Hytorax Part 2

[Tessar]

The battle around Elise was over quickly, and the warg riders fell back as the light coming from her and her staff intensified. They had no wish to tamper with a Maiar in anger, or in power.

Slightly to her left and a good twenty feet away, Elise saw Iriana fall backwards as the ground began shaking. Even though she had not been moving herself, Elise was quickly hard put to keep her footing on the uneven forest floor, and she knew she couldn’t maintain the Aura of Power for too much longer without growing weary. It was a shame that in Middle Earth she was forced to put forth effort simply to appear as she could easily in Valinor.

But that was beside the point, and as a blood-chilling howl broke the night air even above the clamor of battle, Elise waded forward into the fight again, headed towards Iriana in the hopes of distracting any orcs from taking a quick stab at the fallen girl.

With only a certain amount of skill, Elise’s staff quickly began clearing a path for her, each blow falling harder than it might have normally, and each resounding crack marking the shattering of bones and armor. Her true strength would have to be saved now, because the earth brought rumor of a great beast; pure evil in the forest. Little as she liked the man, Elise offered a prayer to the Valar for Mal’s safety.

[Arat-Falathion]

The world was passing in slow motion around Iriana, the brute orc towering above her spending ages to get its huge sword above its head. Iriana managed a smile, this was harmony, the true harmony of the universe, the concordant singing of common weal. That song played in Irianas mind now, but she knew it wasn't playing for the orc, and it never would. So blinded by its masters own blindness from the truth. It all came to her then, and finally she understood the nature of the song in her head, the reason of the songs existence.

Easily she rolled aside when the huge sword arched down upon her, slowly. As she was on her back again, she brought her sword in, severing the brute's right hand, forcing the giant orc to step back at the certain unexpected pain, and forgetting the sword that was stuck deep into the ground beside the woman.

Another roar sounded, and Irianas consentration broke, the song abrupting into chaos and fear for a brief second. She jumped to her feet just as the brute slammed into her, burrying her underneath its weight. She couldn't breath, couldn't move. She thought herself doomed.

[Finrod Felagund]

Fimbren's sword severed the orc's head and with his foot he pushed it off of Iriana. He reached down and pulled her up. "Quick little sister, this is a battle where all of our skills are needed." An orc came running towards them, Fimbren's burning brand skewered it and he let it go. He took up a fallen scimitar and spun away again, swords in hand.

[Arat-Falathion]

Iriana couldn't even thank the elf before he had turned away, picking up a scimitar in his second hand, and joining battle once again.

She noticed Elise batter the skull of an orc, her staff quickly reversing into a horizontal arch that got the dead orc out of her way, before it could fall limply where it stood. Elise came to Irianas side then and smiled.

"So it looks like we're getting this under control." Iriana said as she viewed the battle scene. Tarod was dodging mighty swing after mighty swing, tirering the gigantic orc before he finished it off. And Fimbren quickly cut down two orcs, comming in between them before their swords could finish their swing. The two last orcs had already turned their wargs and was fleeing into the forest.

[Arat-Falathion]

"Where is Malagar?" Iriana suddenly questioned. "And what of that beast that roared so heavily?"

"Here!" Fimbren cried from within the woods nearby.

Running over to the location, a sight of battle met the company. Trees lay flattened and remains of blood lay splattered about. Yet no sign of Malagar, nor the beast.

"Footprints!" Tareod stated as he discovered the mans bootprints on the muddy ground. "They lead nowhere, suddenly disapearing into nothing..."

They all looked at Elise, the wisest of them all. Where was Malagar and the beast?

[Finrod Felagund]

"He has fallen in battle with a great evil," She whispered "but he took it with him..."
Fimbren bowed his head "A noble end, but let him not have died in vain, we must infiltrate the Shadowhand fortress."
They ran silently through the trees.

[Lief Erikson]

Wind whistled through the trees, stirring their quaking leaves on the thick, gnarled branches.

The moonlight shone down through the thick forest roof into an open glade. On the edges of the glade, the light reflecting off the top of his dark armor, stood a solitary figure. He stood tall and erect, his muscles taut like wires. His features were shrouded in shadow, but it was clear that he was wearing dark armor and finely wrought chain mail. The sheath of a long sword hung on his left hip, though it was impossible to make out more about the weapon it concealed.

His eyes flickered up as a shadow moved in the trees opposite him.

Slowly, another man was walking out into the open glade. He wore a thick, black cloak with a cowl concealing his face. His movements made only the smallest sound, that of boots pressing down damp blades of grass.

At last, the first man moved. He laid his right hand on the hilt of his sword, his fingers closing around the corded leather covering the steel grip.

The man wrapped in the garments of the night raised his hands to the edges of his cloak, and pulled off the cowl. Then, he pulled the cloak from about him and let it spill down about his feet.

Underneath, he also wore chain mail over powerfully wrought metal armor. The scarlet hue of his tunic was just discernable in the moonlight.

As the light caught upon his face, the first man relaxed visibly, for the first time in hours.

"You are not followed?" he asked, softly.

The second man immediately turned his head, at last identifying the location of the one he had come to meet.

"I was admitted by your sentries," the man answered. "They watch my back, now."

The first man inclined his head, slightly. He released the grip of his sword, and the man opposite him also relaxed.

"It has been a long time since I saw you, Athalt Cranain," he said, striding across the glade to meet him.

"Are there others willing to join you, Hebroi?" Athalt asked, cutting to the point. "If so, how many?"

"Four others," Hebroi said, following Athalt's lead in getting to business. "All generals. Did you send in the elf, griffin and humans on purpose? If so, it was a good move. Many have come to realize the mind powers Dagankor has been using against us."

"Have you already removed your troops from the main army?"

"We did sir, last night," Hebroi answered.

Athalt grimaced, slightly. "Then our enemies have had a full day in which to react to your forces' desertion. A whole day in which we could do nothing. Where are your men camped?"

"The Ecthe Fields."

"They could have been attacked by now," Athalt told him. "While my army and yours are divided, we are weak. If we can unite, we will be a force that can almost equal those the enemy has drawn up against us."

"Our people were not attacked," Hebroi assured him. "At least not yet."

"Perhaps Dagankor is having trouble establishing order within his forces," Athalt muttered to himself. "If so, perhaps we will have a chance. The armies must march to join ours immediately."

"I shall return and order it at once."

"No," Athalt said, shaking his head vigorously. "There is no time. Join my army now. We shall march to join your comrades at Ecthe."

Hebroi bowed his head. "Certainly. It shall be as you command."

Athalt turned and started striding back into the forest, Hebroi following close on his heels.

[Lief Erikson]

Dagankor stood in a darkened tent, surrounded by his generals. Of the Shadowhand wizards that had joined this side, he had been appointed the leader by the council.

"Why have you refused to allow us to attack the enemy armies while they are separate?" one of the Shadowhand generals barked, angrily.

The man held no fear of retribution for his disrespect. Dagankor could ill afford to deal out retribution now, in any case. He needed the unity of his generals. The support of each one was important to the Shadowhand cause. This general could not understand Dagankor's refusal to follow normal battle strategy, yet he would, when the army of their enemy shattered before them.

Dagankor did not answer him. Instead, he turned to another of the generals. "Mashoc, marshal our force and begin a retreat, toward the High Fortress."

"As you command," Mashoc said, also looking a little irritable.

No doubt they had good reason to be angry. Dagankor was not leaving his plan in the hands of even his finest generals. Yet it was not necessary for them to know. They had at least sufficient fear built up within them over time to know not to disobey a direct order. The Shadowhand Council was very strict in maintaining discipline.

Dagankor turned and left the camp. His enemies believed they must unite, in order to survive. Vahatres underestimated him, and would likely never live to understand his mistake.

[Lief Erikson]

The days flew away to Athalt's mind. Unencumbered by fear of enemy agents ahead of him, their now united army plunged forward after Dagankor's. The dark wizard was taking them straight to the High Fortress, the place where their magical power was concentrated. He was choosing a place of battle most advantageous to him, so long as he didn't mind Vahatres destroying his orc breeding areas and other forms of foulness that had been built around the Fortress.

What concerned Athalt most was the magical intensity of the High Fortress. It was a castle built around black research and delving into magical understanding. Dagankor's army alone was strong enough to very likely destroy Vahatres' assembled force, and combined with the power of the castle, its might would be invincible.

Athalt still knew nothing of what had become of the mission he had released. Mal had been in charge, and with him had gone Vahatres' most powerful warriors. Iriana, Elise, and Fimbren were among the most skilled fighters Athalt had ever seen in action, and Tareod also had looked as though he would befit himself well, in a fight. If they could not succeed, it seemed likely that no one would.

Yet in a military endeavor, Athalt hated to rely upon faith alone.

Turning the reins of his horse in his hand, he guided the steed up to where Vahatres was riding.

"Sire, if they are planning to retreat, until we get the aid of Eomer, let us allow them to retreat. They have given our land back to us. If we try to fight them at the castle, we shall all be broken."

Vahatres already was shaking his head. "If the Shadowhand completes the purpose for which it took the Hytorax, all is lost. Dagankor can afford to buy time. We cannot afford to give it to him."

Athalt rode alongside his king for several seconds, and then increased his speed to a canter, quickly ascending a dry brown hill.

The army sprawled out about him, ever advancing. In the distance he could see the High Fortress, its towers and walls rising into the sky. It was blackened, and through the land around it ran a foul river from which a putrid steam was rising. The earth was charred black and trampled on by thousands of feet.

A mere two miles ahead of them, he could see Dagankor's armor lined up. Its front lines bristled with pikes and heavy black armor.

Smoke was rising from somewhere between the Great Orcs in the back and the walls of the castle.

The front lines were made up of principally of human soldiers, but scattered in small units among them were small bands of normal sized goblins.

Behind this force stood a larger army made up of Great Orcs. The eighth of these on the flanks were all mounted on wargs.

"We must be prepared for circling attacks," Athalt said, pointing out the two forces of warg riders. "They'll want to come around and hit our flanks."

Vahatres was wearing full war armor, gilded with gold rims over the steel. His hand in a heavy scarlet glove was clenched now upon the hilt of his sword.

"Send my pikes to those flanks."

"It'll leave our middle force incapable of matching their center pikes," Athalt reminded Vahatres.

"We won't attempt to match them," Vahatres said, smiling slightly. "We'll do what's best for our outnumbered army. During our defense preparations at Néred we had to principally rely upon bolstering our archery. I believe our archers will at least match their own, by now. Let us take them through archery fire, and make them be the first attackers.

"We'll draw them into our middle infintry, and then close the pike flanks on them."

Athalt nodded, slowly. "Yes sire. Yes. That is a good plan."

[Lief Erikson]

Hruad and Imarwyn had not had to travel far before they met units of Vahatres' army. They had merged with them then, several days ago, and after having been thanked, they were told to wait in the baggage lines or fight at their own choice.

Hruad was sitting upon the edge of a wagon in the sunshine, waiting. He did not know what Imarwyn would do, but this kind of battle was not for him. He had never been good in military engagement, and would likely be a hinderance more to his cause than to the enemy. He knew that in a situation such as this, it was better to wait outside the battle lines.

[Lief Erikson]

Mal's face was white and his clothes drenched with persperation. His blood matted the earth behind him, in his flight.

Never had he been so weary. He knew still his destination, the place where he was seeking to draw this monster.

Its speed was incredible. Mal doubted that any single warrior alive could slay the beast. The Shadowhand's own madness drove its brain wild.

The two of them had been in chase throughout the night, Mal using his magic to vaporize into the shadows and materialize elsewhere. The beast had taken in his scent immediately and followed him wherever he ran.

Mal had begun a pattern, quickly. He dove into the shadows and reappeared. He waited just long enough for the creature to catch his scent and start in the right direction, and then he would take off again.

With the speed of this creature, that was all the time he could afford.

Sometimes Mal went further than he had to in order to catch a few hours' rest. He was losing blood fast, and he knew he could not maintain this for long.

At last he saw his destination ahead. A tall white building, surrounded by lush trees.

"Harnauro!"

He entered the building the next moment, and fell to the ground.

The wolf was leaping past him, having already scented what Mal had brought with him.

The wolf was gone out the open window, clearing the tall grass with incredible speed.

It needed all the speed it possessed when Mal's pursuer entered the garden, a single second after the wolf emerged from the building.

The creature looked the wolf in the eye. Its hideous scaled form with its packed, rolling muscles were filled with energy. It sensed the weakness of its quarry ahead, yet knew it could not afford to leave an enemy alive at its back.

Its mouth opened wide and it gave a roar that shook the white, pearly building.

The bushes quivered, several leaves falling away and fluttering away in the soft morning breeze.

Harnauro looked into its eyes, staring at it hard.

"I know you, Bearcore," the wolf said.

"I will kill you, Harnauro."

They never had laid eyes upon one another before, yet their spirits touched and conversed. One spirit writhed with hatred, while the other sought to bring life.

"The same as I, you are bound by a curse. A curse of the Shadowhand, binding your energies to their service. You hate them more than you hate me."

"I can do nothing against them. What I can do something against, I will. I will kill you all and rend your house to the ground."

"I have suffered from such a curse too. Let me help you."

Bearcore blinked. "What?"

"I can help you, Bearcore. It may take time, but I can help you. Allow me to reach to your spirit."

For several long seconds, Bearcore stood still. Its muscles were taut, filled with pent in fury. It longed to rend the wolf, to tear it to shreds and devour it. It knew it had the strength to do so.

Finally, its spirit responded to his again. "How long will it take?"

[Earniel]

Imarwyn groomed Merrah in the camp of the King's army but her mind wandered. Unrest held her ever since she and the others had joined the army. The battle was at hand and she knew she would not be able to participate in it, she lacked the required skill.

She was glad that her mission had not been in vain, that some had deserted Dagankor's army to join Vahatres' cause. But it seemed but a small number compared to the forces, natural or magical, Dagankor still held.

She pressed her lips together angrily when she thought of Dagankor. He had killed Aralle and Glimdrell. And Imarwyn's blood sang of revenge. Her hand wandered to hilt of her one remaining knife. She had had to leave the other one on the floor of the council room, not far from where Aralle had fallen. In a way it seemed the proper way, in old days the rohirrim had given the dead weapons to accompany them beyond the world of the living...

Imarwyn pulled her knife from the sheath and looked at the blade. Honest, normal steel she had called, she now recalled with a wry smile.

"It missed you last time we met, Dagankor," she whispered, "May the Valar grant it won't miss you next time."

Merrah who noticed Imarwyn had stopped grooming her, made her displeasure known with a soft whinney. With a sigh Imarwyn sheathed her knife and resumed the grooming.

Thoughts of revenge were all very well, she thought. But unless Tareod and the others succeeded in their mission, Dagankor and the Shadowhand were likely to win again. She wondered how the others under Mal's command fared, she wished them luck.

~~~~~

The darkness under the trees hid their approach and soon Tareod and the others were in reach of the Shadownhand Fortress, so far unchallenged.

"With luck they still think we're hiding further off in the wood. But we don't have much time. How will we enter?" asked Tareod in hushed tones. "We must do so quickly before they notice us."

[Lief Erikson]

The archers went down on one knee, a long row of them behind the front rank of pikes. Quickly, they strung their bows and pulled their arrows from the quiver. Each jammed ten arrows into the earth in front of him, and nocked another on the bowstring.

Captain Athalt just behind this front line, his shield now firmly held in place, on his left arm. His helmet was close on his head, and he wore a tight neckplate over his chain mail, around his throat.




Hruad stood up, nervously, as he saw the soldiers ahead lining up. Perhaps 3,000 men were on their side, against their enemies' 5,000. Athalt Cranain and Vahatres were near the front of the line, with General Hebroi.

For the first time in memory a truly insane thought entered his head, a wish that he had a sword. He could not fight in this battle, of course, his reason told him. Yet his heart begged otherwise.

He glanced sideways and saw that six wagons were being drawn forward by horses from the baggage lines. They were being pulled forward toward the front by a half dozen men on foot. The horses that drawing the wagons were whickering nervously. Probably as they were pack animals, they would be frightened of the monsters near the front.

"What surprises have they in store for us?" Hruad muttered, as he exchanged a glance with Imarwyn, who was still standing nearby.

He hopped off the wagon's edge and walked over to her, anxiously. The battle was not yet joined. Any moment, now.

The forces ahead of them were a writhing mass of darkness.

[Arat-Falathion]

"Remember there were orcs who fled the battle, Tareod. The Shadowhand may already know we are here..." Iriana scanned the fortress from their position, trying to find an opening in their defence, a single fault of protection that would lead into the fortress. The walls were set with human archers, and the gate protected by two Great orcs. Iriana could only sigh helplessly and look to the others for suggestions...

[Lief Erikson]

Elise glanced sideways, across from them, along the thick walls of the fortress. "The king said that there was a secret passage among the rocks. I believe it is this way."

[Arat-Falathion]

"Vahatres knows much about this enemy," Iriana said approvingly and followed Fimbrens lead. The elf sprang silently among the rocks, always staying in the shadows. The rest followed as best they could. Fimbren dissapeared now and then, searching areas, then coming back and taking up the lead again.

Finally Fimbren appeared with a smile on his face, winking excitedly.

In a crater of bushes, a small, heavy stonedoor was set into the rocks, thoroughly covered by old moss and bushes. "So we found the entrance." Fimbren whispered. "Too bad I lack the strength to open it..." They all looked to Tareod, and made room for the rohirrim to stride forth and test his muscles against the door.

[Arat-Falathion]

After a lot of effort Taroed managed to get the stonedoor moving, an inch every time he janked it. As it finally slid open, mice ran out and disapeared among the rocks. Bending down to look in, Iriana had to grimace. Filled with spiderwebs and mice, a small corridor disapeared into the dusty darkness.

"Guess this hasn't been used in a while," Iriana said with a sigh, and they entered...

[Earniel]

"I deem that would be to our advantage," said Tareod while wiping a cobweb out of the way. "If this corridor is as unused as it looks, we'll have less chance of running into guards. The door we just opened hadn't been opened for a long while in any case."

They walked further in silence, weapons still in hand. After a while they reached another door, wooden this time. The door looked as unused as the corridor they were standing in. A faint light crept from under the door, indicating a lighted corridor on the side. Here they waited for a while, listening. But they heard nothing and the coast seemed clear to enter the halls of the fortress at last.

[Lief Erikson]

The orcs and men across from the host were roaring, loudly. Thunderous cries.

"SHADOWHAND! ENEDWAITH! FREEDOM FROM WITCHCRAFT!"

"Ready your arrows!" Athalt cried.






Hruad frowned in surprise as Merrah snorted suddenly. The horse tossed her head, beginning to shy away. Not avoiding the battlefield, however. He glanced around, unsure as to what was wrong.

[Tessar]

"I'll go first." Elise said quietly, her voice soft but commanding. There didn't seem to be anyone behind the door, but if there was she could deal with them easily enough. At the very least she didn't sense anyone or thing of great Power nearby.

Holding her staff ready, Elise gave the door a push and burst out into the room, ready to lash out at anything in sight. The doorway from the passage lead to another hallway, but this one seemed to have had traffic through it more recently.

Torches flickered in their sconces on the walls, smoking darkly from their poor quality and make. The ceiling was smoggy, but high enough that only a little of the smoke had drifted down to head level, a burnt smell choking any fresh air out.

Grimacing with distaste, Elise set off quickly as soon as the others were out of the passageway and she'd shut the door. Speed was of the essence now, because if anyone was waiting for her, they would know she was here.

If her presence was unexpected though, they might still have time. A little time.