Hytorax Part 2

[Tessar]

"They know we're here,"

The thought flew through Elise's mind as she raised her staff and made a swinging motion. There had been too many distractions and stalling for the enemy to not know.

A wave of energy left Elise's staff, slamming full force against the commander and throwing him back into two of his soldier's. As they tried to disentangle themselves and get up, Elise yelled a command, pointing at one of the other Soldiers. Instantly he drew a dagger and slit his fellow guard’s throat.

"MOVE!" Elise cried to her companions, already stepping forward into the fray herself.

[Arat-Falathion]

"Surrender, and we may spare your life, and that of your friend."

At first the command pleaded her, what seemed to be the only solution. She had really dug a hole so deep that she couldn't get out, and in that, Tareod and Fimbren wouldn't likely survive eather, and where was Elise?

A fire awoke in Iriana... if Elise was alive, and they started a fight here, perhaps she could get into the heart of the complex and snatch the hytorax without much trouble... a nobel death that would be... and with the thought came the song to her once again, the veins on her hand clutching the sword suddenly visible through the skin, her eyes setting aflame.

"MOVE!"

Iriana had heard nothing of Elise entering the room, but she recognized that voice, and suddenly the soldiers were advancing on her. Without any way to explain her movements, Iriana fell to one knee and reversed the sword backward, in the same instant the wind of a passing sword cought her hair, and then the yelp of a dying man. She spun in a circle back to her feet, parried two swords stabbing for her at once, before she reversed the motion and cut down one of them. Even before the dead soldier had hit the ground, two more were beside him. She feinted an attack, putting the three soldiers into a backstep. She knew better than to follow though.

She turned an ran towards Tareod, who was engaged with two soldiers. They would stand a better chance to survive if they stuck together...

[Mathron]

The fury of the companion's assault bought them time to join together and drop a few of their enemies. Fimbren grabbed his blade, though he had no time to garb himself in armor. Iriana dropped an enemy and reached Tareod's side, the two of them easily falling into fighting, back to back. Given another moment of shock, they could almost have won the battle there.

But the soldier's didn't give it to them.

Elise's magic hurled the commander out of the fray and into his comrades, but he somehow managed to twist his body and slip out of the tangle with ease - and then launched himself into the air in an acrobatic display of skill that defied his apparent age.

"Battle of the falling moon, now!" he barked out as he soared over his men toward Elise, and they immediately reacted to some preplanned strategy.

Four men moved to surround Tareod and Iriana, moving in perfect harmony with each other. Their blades were darting and whirling in and out, a spinning wall of steel that gleamed like falling stars. Their strategy was immediately clear - keep Iriana and Tareod pressed and on the defensive, while keeping enough of their own guard up to prevent any killing blows from getting through. In short, keeping the two heroes busy and exhausted until the other warriors could join them.

Fimbren got three enemies himself, but they didn't bother with such tactics. They grinned berserker grins as they charged his armorless form, their blades spearing the air - one towards his chest, the other to his bottom left, the other to his upper right. He tried to parry one blade while dodging backwards, and was shocked at the strength behind the blow. Though he was able to evade the attack through speed alone, his arm was left ringing from the block. The three of them didn't even slow, but immediately spun into whirling slashes aimed at his legs and torso.

As for Elise... well, the rest of the attack was aimed at her. Two soldiers moved to flank her, while the ones she had dropped prone sprung to their fleet and began moving towards her.

And above, the commander came soaring in. As he closed, he flung a small pouch at her. In the air, it unfurled and released its contents - a cloud of diamond dust.

She got her cloak up in time to keep it from her face, but could feel it sting even so. And should she breathe in any of that... she felt a cold chill inside at what a terribly vicious weapon it was.

Behind her, the commander landed, launching into a flurry of motion - numerous attacks, none of them strong enough to kill, all designed to keep her occupied and distracted from spell casting.

His eyes promised death.

[Lief Erikson]

Athalt's men stormed ahead, smashing aside the forces before them. The fleeing soldiers before them were scattered, all order broken. The flying colors of Enedwaith soared over Athalt's head, a brilliant spectrum in the breeze revealing a blaze of light and color to grant spirit to the men. The soldiers of the army were running forward. Power flowed in their limbs. The enemy could not stand before them. Though they had won, now they were all collapsing. The enemy forces of the Shadowhand had been beaten.

Or so it seemed.

"READY POSITIONS!"

The voice barked out the order from the far end of the battlefield, a place as yet untouched by combat. Athalt shook his head, slightly, his heart again feeling a glimmer of forboding. There was a solid wall of mighty orcs there. They were the Great Orcs, armed from head to foot in black armor, black towers of muscle and speed. They were giant killing machines, well disciplined and ferocious.

Blades arched forward, swishing from the black leather sheaths and belt loops. The black jagged edges were in ready positions, their masters' yellow eyes blazing in hot expectation as they looked upon the charging ranks of bold Enedwaith soldiers.

"We cannot give up the charge," Athalt told himself, softly. "If we give up our momentum now, they'll break us in an instant. Already they outnumber us, and they are fresh. We need this advantage. This charge is here, now. This charge is for Enedwaith, our final hope.

"ON!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. He raised the flag pole like a spear, aiming its sharpened point into the jaws of the organized killing machine before them. "ON, NOW! ON, FOR ENEDWAITH!"

[Lief Erikson]

"Outside," the wizard said, softly. "In the corridor immediately to the left of this room."

The Council Leader nodded, slowly. His dark eyes flickered with a soft light as he looked at the simple white page of light before them, the magical Essence, the power to seize magical power throughout Enedwaith and much of the rest of the world. All would fall before them with it. Yet the enemies outside were striking at them, trying to steal all they had worked for for all these years.

"What you worked for has never been yours."

The Council Leader blinked. He glanced to his left at the Essence, confused. There was no time to think on this now, however. He looked at his Shadowhand wizards and raised his hand. "You six. Go into the hall and help Captain Gravbac."





The captain dove forward, his blade scything through the air in diagnol down strokes, up, down, left, up, cutting regularly and cleanly. The blade was barely blocked by Elise's staff as she kept up with his movements. Power radiated from the staff, keeping most of her other opponents at bay. The soldiers tried to dive in but found themselves repelled. The staff's head hurtled through the air, seeking faces, hands or arms. The haft dove downward to dig the captain's legs out from under him, but he sidestepped and kicked Elise in the side, throwing her off balance. She fell back, stumbling to one knee, gasping for breath.

The soldiers rushed forward, blades extended and eager expressions filling their faces.

Then the staff moved again.

The staff blazed about Elise with the speed of an arrow and the force of a hammer, in a windmill's arch.

Light splintered up in fragments, little darts of it exploding from the places where the haft's head struck. Three soldiers lost their arms in that moment, and another was split in half. Swords and armor shattered to fragments, tiny pieces of charred, molten metal flying in all directions.

The captain raised his hands to cover his eyes and took a step back and to the side, cursing under his breath. He looked forward again, lowering his sword again to the on guard position as the light around Elise faded. She continued to stay in her half crouch for a moment. She then lowered the staff's lower end to the floor and pulled herself upright, leaning on the staff. The captain looked at her, gaging her readiness for another attack. Then a slight pleasure touched his heart.

Elise was leaned over, her face slightly gray. No weapon had touched her. However, upon his kick and her half feigned fall, she had gasped for breath. Already, the poison was working its will in her. She would slowly weaken, and then she would die. It was inevitable.

The captain backed away from her and glanced to the sides. His other companions were harrying their enemies, holding them pinned successfully, though none yet had fallen on either side. The captain glanced back at Elise again. She was not dead yet, and she was looking at his face. Her face was hard as iron, determination etched in her features. He could see her bracing herself for a charge, an attack determined to take him with her.

The captain lowered his guard slightly to cover the lower quadrants of his torso more effectively. The blade's point was parallel with Elise's head. The steel was straight and covered the captain's outside. He was ready, already planning the attack to stop her rush and praying in his mind that it would succeed.

Then he heard something else move, behind them. New forces had entered the battle. He risked a glance behind him as he retreated a few steps, and he saw the Shadowhand wizards entering. His own men might have been enough to deal with these people. With the wizards, none of them had any chance. They could disable or kill their enemies without ever having touched them.

"Take them alive," a voice said coldly from behind the wizards. "Let them see what they have failed to prevent, before they die."

[Tessar]

It was over.

Elise knew it the second the Shadow Hand conjurers entered the room. Any one of them she could’ve killed with ease- maybe all of them at once- but not now. Her Power was nearly exhausted, and she could feel the poison inside her attempting to eat away at her strength and determination… yes, she would last just long enough for them to gloat over, and then she would die. It wasn’t such an unhappy thought some how, but she pitied her companions the fate they might face.

”This entire mission was a fool’s errand, and a fool’s hope,” Elise thought sadly as one of the men wrestled her staff away from her, roughly shoving her back in fear of what she might try to do to him. Even without her staff, if she was given half a chance Elise thought she might be able to kill one of the wizards. She was mostly unable to wield her power without a staff, but not entirely.

”It’s unlikely I could managed it, they’re too wary of me, even without my staff,” the thought nearly brought a dry chuckle to Elise’s lips, but there was little humor in the situation. No, she would not get her chance. Staff in hand, it would be possible for her to disrupt whatever it was they were doing with the jewel, but they would keep her well away.

[Lief Erikson]

The Council Leader glanced over his shoulder as the companions were brought into the room, each securely bound with new cords. He could see the bravery in their eyes, the desire in some to fight to the end. Given a sword and a chance, many would leap for the Essence and bite it with their steel, before death.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, at last," the Council Leader said, smiling into their eyes. "You, the bold heroes of Enedwaith have made this possible."

The Council Leader opened his hand and raised it in the direction of the Essence. Holy light seemed to glow from the beautiful, deceptive and simple slip of paper.

"Without your efforts for Dagankor, we could never have accomplished this. All our research has shown that we are harnessing the magic of Middle Earth, using the guardian pieces that once secured Valinor. The Hytorax was the last piece in the puzzle. Because of your aiding us, I believed it unfair for us to keep you from seeing the end of your labors. Watch and see, as the puzzle's solution is revealed."

[Tessar]

Elise felt the cords wrapping around her wrists, and winced as they bit into her arms. This truly was the end. She could perhaps command the rope to unwind itself, but she was too weak to do more now. She would be free, and then they would strike her down. The poison was draining her energy more swiftly than she’d realized…

”They don’t deserve to die,” Elise thought bitterly, looking around at her companions and taking in their mixed looks of fear and determination. Valar help them, they probably thought there was still some way they’d all make it out alive.

A plan slowly began to form itself in Elise’s mind. If she truly focused, even as fast as the poison was killing her, she could hang on to enough energy to make the ropes untie from her companions. Possibly, if she were to do it at the right moment, everyone else would be too busy watching the Hytorax to pay any attention to them, and they could escape.

She would die though. There was no Power left in Middle Earth to save her, because she would not be saved. Her mind was made up. She would either destroy the Hytorax, and herself with it, or die attempting to help her companions escape.

”Maybe one or two of them will live though this, if I time it correctly.” Elise thought, grim determination forming within her as she let the guards roughly lead her away.

[Lief Erikson]

The Council Leader opened his hands, turning to face the Essence. "Middle-Earth nature, strength of the Maiar, presence of sun and the moon and the star, guide our hands, be all you with us, the guardians are here, all light of the Valar."

The Hytorax and the gems like it were the heart of the Valar's power to guard the Blessed Realms, items blazing with energy from the heart of the Essence.

"All ours to wield," the Council Leader breathed. "All ours to control."

Something behind him moved. He didn't pay attention as he heard a rough woman's voice beginning to speak. He was absorbed in the Essence, feeling its heart beating. It was alive.

Light blazed out of the page like small stars, shining in unparalleled glory. The stars seemed to separate from the page and fly out, shining globes of light, full of inexpressible beauty.

"See what we have made," the Council Leader cried, nearly ready to weep with joy.

Someone slumped to the ground.

The Council Leader glanced back at last, and his eyes bulged. The members of the company were free. Unarmed, they were smiting down their guardians with bare fists.

The Shadowhand wizards sent spells ripping into them. Fimbren took an energy blast in the shoulder and another in the hip. He didn't fall, instead enduring and continuing to fight.

Tareod took a bone smashing blow in the ribs and stumbled, blood spattering from his mouth to the floor. Iriana came forward, hands and feet flashing in patterns of combat, body twisting to dodge blasting lines of energy coming from wizards' fingers. Two kicks, and one wizard was toppling. A blow of the hand smashed someone's wrist away from her and then another blow took him in the center of the forehead, throwing him back onto the floor. The Council Leader watched, his eyebrows rising as the companions fought.

Then he raised his hands. The power of the Essence blazed first, light so great that it blinded everyone. There was no shadow left in the room. Everything was lit up in stark brilliance, people becoming nearly invisible in the pure radiance.

"Hallelujah!" the Council Leader cried out in elvish. The power blazed in him like a torch, lighting up his being so it was like a holy substance from another world.

Then something went wrong. The Council Leader's world spun, twisting in circles. Something was twisting.

"Let me go!"

It was a voice crying out in his mind. He could suppress the voice, control the power. But something was inside him, fighting feebly against him.

"I control you," he snarled, suddenly fierce. "Be silent. Disappear."

The voice let out a long, feeble wail.

"Elbereth Gilthoniel!"

The Council Leader twisted his head about, looking back toward the Essence, the page. Elise's feeble body was right next to it. Her hands reached up, and she seized the edges of the parchment.

The world was obliterated in the Council Leader.




A red-hot inferno was blazing about the Council Leader. What had once shone within him under his control ripped at his body. He had control, but someone else was in this strange world with him.

The Council Leader was standing on a dark plain, on the edges of the netherworld. He could see Elise nearby, standing tall and strong. Her physical body was far from here, but here at the end they would fight.

Nearby them sat a little elven girl in a white blouse, on the dark, charcoal earth. Black dust was about them, lying all around.

Elise looked into the Council Leader's eyes.

"You seek to control me," the girl said to the Council Leader, reaching up to wipe a tear from her eye. "You brought me out of the house I was living and try to make me put chains on others. It's wrong!"

"Shut-up, curse you," the Council Leader snarled back at her. She was the nature of the item he'd created. The Essence was alive, was a thing of purity that held the reins to.

Elise was advancing toward the Council Leader. Something caught the Council Leader's eye and he turned his head slightly, looking at something nearby him. It was a vague figure like a shadow standing behind Elise. A man with wizened features, a broad brimmed pointed hat on his head.

"Gandalf . . ." the Council Leader breathed.

Other shades were rising, creatures coming up from behind the Council Leader to aid him. He felt a cold hand on his shoulder and looked back, starting as he recognized Saruman, staring coldly across the ground between him and Elise. Lights rose behind Elise, murmering words in her ears.

"For Middle Earth," Elise said, softly. "For the freedom of this child."

"For the Shadowhand," the Council Leader answered. "For all we will do next."

A broad circle of ground stood before the two. They stepped toward one another into the circle, eyes locked. Flames and heat began to grow, energy crackling behind the two, each braced to destroy the other. Red hot light gleamed in the Council Leader's eyes, meeting brilliant white light from Elise.

With a cry, Elise flung herself forward. The Council Leader met her, planting a foot solidly in the middle of her stomach and throwing her back. Blazing heat rocked through him at the touch. She was tossed to the ground and he sprang on top of her, seeking to grasp her neck with his hands.






Blood splattered on the earth from newly opened wounds as the two rolled on the earth, drenched in black soot and sweat. They had each struck one another a hundred times. Hours had passed. Their comrades from ages past watched in silence from outside the circle, calmly looking inside at the two combatants. The girl was watching avidly, the only one showing clear expression, wincing in fear and grief at seeing Elise struck, light and hope gathering in her face again as the Shadowhand's Council Leader fell back.

Blows struck deep into spirit and magic, crackling power burning between the two.

The hours continued to pass, but the netherworld knew neither day nor night. Elise's skill and power did not stop. The Council Leader watched as slowly she seemed to gain ability, slowly she seemed to become more unresistable. She did not seem to tire. She was not perishing. It began to seem to the Council Leader that it would be impossible she could be defeated.

Finally with a cry he hurtled himself off the earth, smashing into her with the last of his strength. His hands went around her neck, trying to smash her throat. Then her hands came up, one from either side of her body, and they smashed his skull.

[Lief Erikson]

The army of Enedwaith was collapsing. Athalt had led them into murder, a bloody hell of ripping blades and cleaving weapons, weilded by beasts near as great as trolls, mounted upon wargs as great as hills. If Athalt had twenty men for each enemy, he could win this battle. But there seemed to be twenty of these warg riders for each of his men.

Athalt's sword bit into a nearby warg as he passed, but the creature didn't even slow as it stormed on, trampling three of Athalt's riders. Athalt saw a mighty Great Orc bring down his vast sword, reaching down. Then the beast sliced in half a horse and rider with a single blow.

A warg fell down, two arrows in each of its eyes. Its rider fell to the earth, pulled himself upright, and slashed sideways, cleaving off a horse's head and opening its rider's side.

Athalt looked about him hopelessly. It all was over, all lost. There was no choice now but to call the retreat.

Then he heard a strange roar coming from his left. It was a roar unlike any he'd heard before, a guttural, deep sound. Athalt turned in that direction, raising his sword slightly. A terrifying orange and red light was opening in the sky.

Then the light blazed inward with the force of a hurricane. Wargs and Great Orcs screamed and howled as it came upon them, and as a creature leapt out of it.

The blaze of light was like fire, burning all it touched upon. The creature springing from its depths was a monster, a beast like to the wargs yet far too fast and strong to be real. It was a dragon, one of the land brood that had been placed in the world by Morgoth. Sitting on its back was a man, both of his hands raised over his head.

"Malagar!" Athalt cried, laughing. He raised his sword over his head and watched as the beasts about his men were sliced to shreds. The massive creatures were no match for the beast Mal was riding, a creature that hurtled about, filled with bloodlust, its claws shredding everything in its path. It targetted the wargs and the Great Orcs, at Malagar's order ignoring the humans.

"They are not of the Shadowhand," Mal told the thing.

"I will kill the Shadowhand only," the creature responded. It looked up, turning its eyes toward the land behind the army. "What is there?"

"The enemy leaders, the Great Orc generals and Dagankor, the dark wizard."

"Woe to them," the fiend snarled, its lips twisting upward into a smile. "Woe to them."

Then it wasted no more time with words. It hurtled forward, leaping and slipping between man and beast, slicing apart Great Orcs and their wargs as it went.

Shadowhand wizards were rushing out of the castle. "Come, everyone!" Dagankor cried from the front. He was a small, dark robed figure in the background. Ten, then twenty, then thirty other wizards were rushing forward, all the Shadowhand wizards living rushing to the offensive. These thirty were all the Shadowhand wizardry, the power of their order.

"We can destroy that which we made!" Dagankor shouted.

"Go to Utumno's belly," the beast snarled back at them, upon hearing his words.

Mal crouched down on the beast's back, summoning the shadow magic.

Light fire was still pouring down upon the orcs, and now Athalt could see its source. It was coming from the tower high above, magical power being used. It could only be the Essence, controlled by someone that was good. The magic had not been destroyed! It had been seized, seized by Athalt's companions!

"YES!" he shouted, laughing at the heavens above. "Ilúvatar, to you be the thanks of us your warriors!"

Light fire decimated the enemies nearby, but the beast hurtled on toward the wizards themselves. His claws were extended, and then his maw was opened.

Sixty spells came to meet him. He dodged spells, shards of fire flying off his face, breast and arms as he came forward. He was impossibly fast, but it was not fast enough. Flame ripped apart his mighty sinews. His tongue lolled in his mouth, some of his teeth were ripped out when a huge chunk of his face's front was blasted aside. His eyes were incensed to madness.

Jaws clamped down upon wizards, claws raked out to kill foes. Wizards fell about him, engulfed in the beast's power in a moment. Magical power rent the creature, blood sprayed from him in all directions, but it was not enough to stop him. Mal watched the destruction the monster was causing, directing the creature so its madness would not overcome it. Mal gave the beast purpose and focus, keeping it from turning on those that should be its friends.






Dagankor watched in horror. Twenty wizards were now down, the pride of the Shadowhand destroyed. The beast was killing them all in seconds. He was a ball of fire, clamped down upon by over a hundred destructive spells that all rent into him. His bones were visible, but he was hacking still with his claws, laying everyone low.

Then Dagankor realized it was over. There was no chance left- none.

Dagankor turned in that moment and he ran, fleeing back for the castle. The only chance of survival that was left to him was at the Essence. Seizing control of it again, wresting it from these invaders, was truly his only hope.

[Lief Erikson]

The beast stood on the earth, its heart thumping slowly, heavily. Mal looked into its eyes with real compassion. The orc army was crumbling about them, dying in light fire. The beast had killed all of the wizards where they stood, except one. Dagankor the dark wizard had escaped again, fleeing this time back toward his castle.

The beast lowered its face toward the ground, which was littered with its own entrails. Then the creature shot its eyes back once more to Mal. "I have taken my revenge."

Mal nodded once and touched the creature's jaw, lightly, with his right hand.

"It is better that I die," the creature said to him. "Tomorrow, the day after, or a week hence perhaps it might take. In the end I would have attacked and killed you all."

"You will rest in peace," Mal told the creature, gently. "Unlike the rest of your kind, you have found redemption."

The dragon's eyes widened at these words. It looked at Mal for several seconds in mild astonishment and disbelief. Then peace entered its face, the first time peace had come to this monster, this beast created by the Shadowhand.

The dragon lay down on its side, as though of its own choice, and it closed its eyes. Mal looked away, and he vanished.





Dagankor ran into the upper story room, past the dead guards outside and into the chamber itself. He stopped where he stood then, and he stared in amazement at what lay before his eyes.

The wizards of the Shadowhand lay dead about the room, as did all the remaining soldiers. Somehow, impossibly, incredibly, the companions had killed all of them. The companions themselves lay on the floor nearby those they'd slain. Tareod near the door, his fist clasped on a dagger that was still in the heart of a slain Shadowhand wizard. Another dead wizard lay behind him, his throat cut. Iriana a good deal further forward, four dead wizards lying about her. The captain lay slain near Fimbren, with his soldiers. All killed in the brilliant elf's final battle, his last engagement. Around the Essence itself lay the other four wizards, killed in stabs of power Elise had managed to wield through it as they attacked her. Elise herself lay near them, one hand underneath the hovering page. She was slumped on the floor, also dead. Nearby her the Council Leader lay dead on the ground, his body unmarked but his face twisted in death, full of concentration and pain.

Dagankor looked at the scene before him for several seconds. The power that had flowed from the Essence to kill the orc army had ceased, clearly indicating that the orcs were already all slain.

Dagankor looked again over the bodies. All had given up their lives for this country, for this world of Middle Earth. How could they have believed this cause worth their lives? What was it that inspired people to do such things, in passing?

Dagankor stepped into the room, stepping over bodies as he advanced. Soon he hastened his pace, beginning to half run up toward the Essence. He stopped directly beside it and glanced about himself hurriedly. No one could stop him from doing this.

Reaching down, he grasped the page with one hand. He looked down at the page, feeling the almighty power throbbing under his fingertips. Throbbing under them, but not rising up.

Dagankor looked up and his mouth dropped open. The side of the room immediately in front of him seemed to have fallen away. In its place Dagankor looked out upon an open beach, a sandy seashore. He saw Elise standing there in glorious white robes, free of any wound. She didn't seem to see him. She looked back and smiled.

Fimbren stepped forward into view, walking up toward the Maiar. He also was at peace, clad in comfortable, loose linen.

Iriana and Tareod then approached. They talked a little, but their voices were impossible for Dagankor to understand. They were near a small craft with a white sail, floating gently on the sea.

Elise and her companions splashed into the fair waters and climbed into the boat, helping each other as they did. They were talking more animatedly now, laughing aloud with pleasure. The craft they were on seemed to grow larger and the land fly farther away from them. Dagankor saw their ship hurtling away on the sea, flying away from land.

"Wait!" Dagankor cried, tears entering his eyes. "Wait for me!"

No one even looked back at him. They sailed hence, contentment and joy going with them.

"Wait!" Dagankor cried again, raising one hand as though bidding the vision to stop.

The ship slowly dwindled away, travelling further away into the sunlight. The light grew as the ship did, the sunlight growing in blinding energy, the people within the craft becoming more and more joyful. Other figures were standing on a far bank, laughing and cheering, raising hands to welcome more of their number home.





The vision was gone. In its place was the barren, dank stone wall of the chamber. Dagankor was standing beside a shining white paper, his hands at his sides. He looked forward, hopeless, pained. What was this mood that had settled upon his shoulders? How could he mourn and weep to possess what he had fought all his life to destroy?

A footstep sounded behind him and Dagankor looked over his shoulder, over the bodies of the slain. A man walked inside and Dagankor turned the rest of the way around, so as to face him.

"Who are you?" Dagankor asked, softly.

"Malagar," the man answered.

"Why have you come?"

For a moment the man was silent. Then he turned his head slightly, looking intently into Dagankor's eyes. "To kill you."

Dagankor's heart was pounding vigorously. He saw the shadow magic wrapping about the man, the shadows of the room allying with him, prepared to do his bidding.

"Do it," Dagankor said. He lowered his head in submission, extending his hands slightly to either side of his body.

Malagar raised his hands and shadows sprang forth. They swept about Dagankor and then sliced into him, razors cutting his body to pieces and throwing the scraps aside. Malagar then stepped forward, glancing once at the bloody body as he passed. Then he reached the hovering page, and he smiled.

"Have you come for me, now?" a small voice asked.

"Elise completed her purpose in this world," Mal answered. "Mine is yet to be fulfilled. Will you walk with me?"

"I will," the girl's voice answered, laughingly.

Pleasure filled her voice, and it touched Malagar as well. He smiled softly. Then he reached down, taking the page in both hands. He picked it up, and gently he folded it once over. Then he folded it a second time, now into fourths.

Gently, he slipped it into a pouch at his waist. Glancing behind him, he sighed and looked at the doorway. He stepped past the slain, moving on. He walked out of the door, reentering the corridors of the black castle. He walked on, on toward a new future. Towards a better place. Toward the finding of his own purpose and its fulfillment.

Mal raised his hands as he left the castle, walking into the sunlight. He raised his hands up toward the quick morning sun, and let out peals of laugher, shouts of joy.

[Lief Erikson]

*Here ends "The Hytorax". The adventure is over, the quest fulfilled. Let us go on and find our own purposes, reaching out to our own futures.

May all here have good fortune in their lives- the blessings of the Valar go with ye!*