Hytorax Part 2

[Arat-Falathion]

Glimdrell staggered to his feet, his right hand clutching the hilt of his sabre. The elven assassin looked up at Dagankor with profound hatred and sighed.

"Strangely then, it is..." Glimdrell muttered. "That your words drip like poison from thine mouth. I must ask myself, who is the true liar among us?"

Dagankor laughed mockingly and sent another burst of energy at the elf, clapping the feet away under him. Glimdrell fell to the floor again, barely managing to keep the sabre in his hand. Determingly the elf rose to his feet, slowly, his eyes never leaving Dagankor's.

"Stay down..." the elf heard a voice whisper from the side. Hruad was looking upon Glimdrell in sympathy. Glimdrell only returned a shook of his head and returned his glare at Dagankor, backing out was not a solution.

[Lief Erikson]

Hruad seized the elf by the shoulder and struggled to hold him back. "Glimdrell, no!"

Both of them fell back upon the stairs as a third attack flew from Dagankor's fingers. It struck the wall just above their heads, raining them with dust and shattered rock.

"There is a time to fight and a time to run," Hruad exclaimed.

Aralle swept out of the room, carrying Imarwyn. She laid the woman down gently with the others, and then turned back to the council of enemies.

"People of Enedwaith!" she cried. "Remember me! Remember who I am, and what my race stands for! Remember whom we serve!"

The men facing her were incapable of responding, hardly capable of thinking. They were on Dagankor's side, bound to him firmly. Her words entered their minds, but could not yet be heard.

"We have always served the Valar, followed their lead!" Aralle cried. "Here me- here us now! Dagankor is a liar!"

Dagankor did not hesitate, but immediately struck again.

A shimmer of silver light. It flickered through the air, crackling for a moment as though suspended in time.

Then Aralle was stumbling back, blood pouring from both mouth and nostrils.

Two of the generals jerked violently, as though struck. They blinked, looking at the griffin in mild shock.

Aralle was slumping downward, falling . . .

Her body hit the ground, a gentle thump. Lifeless, already cold. Blood spreading on the flagstones.

[Lief Erikson]

Hruad stared for an instant, horrified.

Dagankor pointed his hand again, and Hruad knew there was not time. He yanked Glimdrell backward, into the cavern. Dolais had already seized Imarwyn and was helping her out of the place, back up the stairs.

Shouts to resist, coming from below.

Hruad held Glimdrell with all his strength, struggling to drag the elf back upward. The elf was too strong for him, slipping free, horror and rage mixed on his handsome face.

"What have your centuries of learning taught you?" Hruad shouted. "Give in, or you'll only cause more of us to die!"

[Arat-Falathion]

"And a honorfull death it should be!" Glimdrell cried, his eyes filled with tears. In the back of his head he heard Dagankor chanting for another spell and Hruad screaming his name, but his conscience did not redeem to it, could not. The loss of Aralle, one of the last Griffins, one of the purest race of good, had perished, died by the ruthless hand of a wizard for no appearant reason. Glimdrells conscience couldn't accept that, and thus, could not accept to flee.

He faced Hruad one last time and whispered: "Run!" Then he turned on Dagankor, their eyes meeting yet again. Dagankors chanting rised in a forcefull crescendo, his hands rising above his head, weaving menacingly, crying out the last words of the spell. Glimdrell was about to charge in, but his feet buckled from underneath him. In the same moment Dagankors spell left his fingertips.

A fireball the size of the doorway itself flew through the air, setting the walls on fire. The elven assassin felt the warmth streek over his back, and heard it blast into the stairs behind him.
"You will not die here!" Hruad screamed, laying half over the elf, his hands firmly holding around Glimdrells feet. "If we die, then Aralle has perished in vain. Give atleast the griffin a honorful death! Now, we must flee!"

[Earniel]

Imarwyn's head cleared again and she shook off Dolais' helping hand. "I'm alright," she said with gritted teeth, "I can walk on my own."

She took her knife that had been left on the staircase after her fight with the wizard-doorkeeper. Its twin lay now beyond her reach, behind Dagankor in the empty council chamber, below the staircase where Aralle lay. Imarwyn's heart grew cold at the thought of the griffin. She gripped her one remaining knife with such force that her knuckles became white. Aralle, friend and travel companion. Aralle was gone now...

A fireball crashing into stairway behind her and Dolais and they heard Hruad's plea for Glimdrell to flee.

"Oh, the stubborn Elf!" Imarwyn cursed.

Dolais turned to go back. "I have to help Hruad. He won't be able to get Glimdrell out. We don't have much time."

Imarwyn nodded. "Tell Glimdrell to think of Iriana," she said as she remembered something. "I'll get horses, there's a stable around the corner," she continued quickly.

"With luck..." She didn't dare to finish the sentence but ran through the entrance hall to the door, her knife clenched in her hand.

[Lief Erikson]

Hruad scrambled to his feet, getting off Glimdrell. Dagankor once again was casually building a spell. The next moment he had thrown it, and a huge disk was spinning toward them.

The elf and man leapt aside and the disk splintered to shards against the stair behind them.

Hruad raised his right hand a little, and then stared at his own chest and left arm. A well of blood was beginning to soak his shirt. The elf also was wounded, but hardly seemed to care. He was moving softly toward Dagankor, keeping his curved scimitar moving in a series of flicks. Nearly useless movements, but enough to keep his opponent guessing. Dagankor's spells also were armed, already, but he dared not attack with them. The elf was fluid and quick, and Dagankor could not afford many misses.

Yet time was on his side. Already he could hear the shouts of other warriors from above. Soldiers rushing to the aid of their leaders, as they realized what was happening within.

"Remember Iriana!" Dolais shouted, from atop the smoldering stairs.

"Remember Aralle," Glimdrell rasped back.

Hruad staggered back toward the stairs, and began to mount the smoldering, melted stone. Dolais wrapped his arm around him and quickly began to aid his ascent.

Hruad glanced back, just in time to see Glimdrell's right arm streak forward in a low line attack. The elf lunged, near flattening himself on the stone floor as he brought his sword up for a strike at Dagankor's groin.

The wizard dodged backward, hurtling a spell at Glimdrell's exposed back. The elf pivoted on his left arm, barely dodging, and a couple of the stone tiles were shattered at the spell's impact.

Then Hruad was up the stairs, away from the scene of the fight. The elf had chosen his lot, and could very well end up losing his life, just as Aralle had. Yet now, they had only to continue fleeing.






Dagnakor followed up to rapidly, on Glimdrell's attack. Too quickly, and the next spell caught Glimdrell in the right shoulder, sending the elf spinning.

The elf hit the floor, but rolled and rose to his feet again.

The military commanders were merely watching. Some were staring at him, while a few looked at the fallen griffin.

Glimdrell smiled, suddenly, as he realized what was happening. He had distracted Dagankor. He was drawing the wizard's full attention, forcing him to lose his grip on the military leaders in the room. And they, at the same time, were recognizing the loss of focus the spell's withdrawal was giving them. Dagankor may have outwitted their company, but Glimdrell's prolonged attack alone was winning the battle for the minds of the leaders.

Dagankor's lips twisted into a snarl, as though he too recognized what was going through the elf's mind.

He threw his spells, all that were gathered.

The elf already was only armed weakly, having been injured twice by the wizard's attacks. He dodged, lining his body up so that only his side was facing Dagankor, rather than his full torso.

Then the spells hit their mark.

He felt something brush past his stomach, and it was gone. Something else smashed into his right hand, obliterating it. A third spell smashed into his thigh, driving him backward, howling in pain.

Dagankor whipped his Morgul sword from its sheath, and advanced on the elf.

"Stop!"

Glimdrell hardly could see, hardly could think for the agony. He could feel nothing in his right leg. His right hand was gone. The pain boiled his blood.

People were talking loudly, overhead. The generals had moved over to Dagankor and were talking with him.

Everything faded.

[Finrod Felagund]

Fimbren awoke in a cold sweat. "Malagar" he whispered hoarsely.
Malagar sat up slowly, "Elise" whispered Fimbren.
She sat up as well.
"Come with me for a moment" the elf said. They followed him into a grove of trees.
Fimren surveyed them far a moment with his piercing grey eyes. "I need to know what we are to be doing, we have neither seen nor heard anything for days. I know the others have found the Shadowhand, but I know nothing more of that. But what are WE doing. Can we simply, with a slow pace, go nowhere?"

[Lief Erikson]

Iron gates swung aside, before Bearcore's vision. The metal bars slid back into the recesses at the back of the cave, and Bearcore plunged out into the darkness.

He felt slippery cavern floor under his feet, cool rocks underfoot. Around him, all was night, hollow, hungry.

Bearcore dodged boulders and maneuvered perfectly through the twists and turns of the cavern. He was approaching the top, felt his masters in his head, directing him.

He hated his enemies. Who his enemies were, he now did not know, but soon they would be before his eyes.

A sliver of light appeared before his eyes, and then he was out. Racing in the open sunlight. He snatched and consumed a couple Great Orcs, casually, on his way. The creatures and monstrous wargs were scattering in his path.

The trees of a forest were ahead of him. Then Bearcore had plunged inside, ever running, closing on his prey.

[Arat-Falathion]

Iriana's eyes popped open suddenly, feeling a surge of adrenalin through her vains. The song had come to her mind in a dream, stronger than she had ever heard it before. She was standing before she even noticed her movements, and searched the camp. Quickly she found Elise, Malagar and Fimbren missing, Tareod was the only one still sleeping. The song built up stronger, its forte rising into a powerfull crescendo. But the song wasn't tormenting her mind, it was honing it, bringing it forth to its full consentration. She produced her sword, not taking her eyes away from the glooming boarders of the camp. She could not yell for the lost comrades, who knew what was out there...

[Lief Erikson]

"You might well say it is nowhere," Mal said, softly. "The Shadowhand Castle is nearby, but we are tracked. Our enemies may have guessed our destination, already."

Fimbren nodded, and continued to look at Mal. "Then what shall we do?"

Mal did not answer, immediately. A few seconds later, he glanced at the trees ahead and answered. "You shall not find yourselves pursued. Soon, I shall leave this fellowship."

Elise didn't respond to this, but Fimbren was surprised. "You are our leader."

"The time is swift coming when our enemies will decide to take action against us," Mal told him. "I am your leader, as you say, and believe this is the best course of action."

Fimbren did not answer, but turned his head up, toward the wood. "Iriana feels it too," he said, softly.

The other two did not speak.

He looked back at them, his eyes fierce. "Orcs!"

"Do not fight them," Mal said, immediately. "Come with me."

"What of Tareod and Iriana?" Elise asked.

Mal glanced back at her, the darkness hiding his face in shadow. "Leave them."






Iriana quickly perceived that she and Tareod were the only two inside the glade. Stars sang above the glade, heightening her senses. Normally they filled her with joy, but now they warned her of what was to come.

She touched Tareod's shoulder, softly. "Our enemies are upon us."

He rose immediately, loosening his sword in its scabbard.

Iriana flashed through a couple drills, her sword slicing the still air. Then, she focused inward, preparing herself.

Mal

He was not here. Neither were the others. She and the Rohirrim were abandoned.

Tareod laid his hand on his sword hilt and gently eased it from its scabbard. Almost casually, and then they waited together, in silence.

The trees opposite them were dense with shadow. Implacable tree trunks, covered with rough bark. Wind gently stirred the leaves of bushes that surrounded the glade. Then the starlight playing on the grass faded, and involuntarily, Iriana glanced up at the sky overhead.

Clouds were crossing the sky, enveloping them in the thickening night.

A footstep sounded, ahead, in the undergrowth. Another, and then more. Softly moving. Shapes of deeper shadow emerging from the dark.

Then a light touched Iriana's eyes, a red light gradually flowing into the glade from the attackers.

It lit the glade, revealing twenty of the monstrous Great Orcs. Mounted upon their elephantine wargs, they were each about thirty feet high. Moving forward, raising their drawn swords.

Steam hissed from their mouths, vapor flowing into the night.

A voice broke the silence, one of the orcs speaking in its guttural tongue. "Kill them."


Monsters were leaping from the red light, massive shapes of bound muscle and sinew. Stretched full length, the beasts heaved forward.

Iriana leapt high into the air, seizing hold of fur and snapping off her first blow. White sparks splintered through the air. Her blade was behind her, before her, every side, her body slithering over and off the warg's back, her feet touching the ground . . . she was running and had mounted the next warg, dodging, ever one step ahead of her enemies, leaping from creature to creature, her blade a flurry in the night. The might of her enemies was invincible, and as yet she had gained no hits. A single blow would snap her slender elven blade and bring her down, but she could not let that happen.

A moment later, she got a glimpse of Tareod, who had managed to bring his blade up under the jaw of one warg. Luckily, the weapon seemed to have hit something vital, and the creature was stumbling. Tareod disappeared under a mountain of fur and muscled flesh.

Iriana swept her sword upward in an overhead parry 5, but then dodged out of the way, allowing her enemy to cleave into another warg.

The titans bellowed and hit the earth, a mound of armor and scrambling claws and legs.

Three wargs down for the moment, but there were seventeen left.

The blade devoured the air where her neck had been an instant before, and she brought her blade up in a quick change of line, the tip piercing the warg's armor and torso.

It kicked and swung with its fist, lightly clipping the side of her head.

Iriana spun in the air and hit the ground in a roll, getting up. A massive bruise was rising on her head, but she knew she was lucky to have come out of this with only that, so far. This was a battle she doubted they could win.

[Lief Erikson]

Bearcore leapt forward through the night, hatred boiling in his heart. He hated all that lived, all that had caused him such pain. Every living creature was his prey, his food.

Trees flashed past his face. He smelled blood, ahead.

[Earniel]

Tareod crawled from under the dead weight of the giant warg. He was smeared with wargblood. With a grimace he wrenched his sword free from the monster's throat.

The Rohirrim looked up to the giant carcass of the warg. How had they gotten so unnaturely large? And there were still over a dozen of these creatures, not to forget their orc-riders. It would be a miracle if he managed to survive this night.

The horses had fled and only Iriana had been with him when the wargs attacked. He could hear the sounds of fighting a little off that told him she was still fighting somewhere in the darkness. But where were the others?

The corpse and the smell of wargblood hid Tareod momentarily from being discovered by the wargs. But it wouldn't last long. He pulled a small bundle from his belt and opened it. It contained some kindling material he usually kept for emergencies. With grim determination he managed to light a small flame with it in the dark warg-fur.

Malagar had forbidden lighting fires to prevent discovery but with the wargs already here, Tareod deemed that discovery was the least of his problems now.

The smell of burning hair and flesh was aweful but the flames crackled in the fur and sprung up higher. Tareod watched with satisfaction as the fire spread over the carcass. For being unnaturally big, they burned incredibly well.

Now that the flames leapt up in the night, Tareod left the now useless cover of the dead warg's body. He had to find Iriana. With luck the fire caused enough distraction for the wargs for them to escape.

[Finrod Felagund]

Fimbren looked at Mal again, as they walked through the night. "So you are to leave us...and Iriana and Taroed may be dead. Are Elise and I to defeat the Shadowhand alone? I have fough many battles, I have seen almost as many as this sword," he fingered Ringil, "And she...well she is another matter." He glanced at her but she gave no response. "But, even with Elise's and my power combined, we cannot hope to defeat the entire castle!"

[Lief Erikson]

"Use what powers you have to enter by stealth," Mal answered, immediately.

Fimbren raised his head, suddenly. Something was approaching, coming fast.

"Do what you can for the others," Mal continued, beginning to speak much faster, now. "Enter the castle by whatever stealth you can manage. From henceforth, you shall have none watching you. No surprise arrows hissing from the shadows, so long as you are careful. Fimbren, Elise, I am depending upon both of you. Help Tareod and Iriana."

"That is an evil approaching," the elf said, laying his hand upon his sword hilt. "It will be here soon."

Mal had drawn a small dagger, an instant later. "Go, now."

Elise nodded, the light of understanding appearing in her eyes. "We will not fail you."

Mal disappeared in the shadows.






Flame worried the wargs, and they held at bay from Tareod. Their riders felt no such fear, but their monstrous charges were none too anxious to approach the burning carcass of their fellow.

Iriana fought desperately, a blur of light and steel. Flashes of fire sheared the darkness of the night, where her sword met enemy steel.

Orcs pounced, their thick hands each large enough to easily crush her slim body with a single punch.

Iriana felt her shirt open at the side, a blade hissing past, narrowly missing her skin. Another narrowly missed her head, and her blade caught an opposing point, curving to throw it away from her thigh.

Iriana's steel struck against the armor of an orc's chest, returning the blow and sending sparks off the breastplate.

She was near flat on the ground the next moment, avoiding the cleaving motions of two more blades. A huge dark figure loomed up above her, hacking down with all his might with his sword.

He veered sideways abruptly as Tareod's sword savaged his right hand, and bellowed with rage and pain. His sword thunked a foot deep into the earth near Iriana, and she cut deep into the tendons of his leg as she passed.

The Great Orc started to topple, and Tareod stabbed once through the ribs, finishing the creature.

Iriana's sword became a blur in her hands as she fended off the orcs and bloodied the noses of their huge wargs, but they pushed the pair steadily back toward the fire.

[Lief Erikson]

Mal stood alone in the darkness of the woods, feeling the incoming presence. A vicious mass of hate and lust for revenge, unleashed from the holds of the Shadowhand. Yet it would not gain success.

Mal drew his dagger and plunged suddenly inward.

Savage pain erupted in his side and he suppressed a scream, harshly. His own blood stained his clothes, dripping down his legs from his chest. Not deep, but it would lose him blood fast.

Mal could only hope that in this weakened state, he could manage to survive the proceedings.

He sensed unfriendly eyes. The shadows, the spirits of the enemy nearby. He raised his own senses, attuning them, focusing them.

He struck suddenly, a power emanating from his wounded figure. He blinded and blasted the spirits about him, threw them aside with the sudden unleashed power of a Maiar.

Dark gray clouds swirled about his fingers and beams of darkness shot from his eyes.

With howls of pain, he saw the startled spirits fly in retreat, pain coursing through all that were near him and his company.

He was exhausted, weakening ever more rapidly. He had won that round, the first part of his battle.

Blood drenched the grass under his feet, and the pain made it nigh impossible to breath.

Mal wiped the dagger on the ground, and then stood silent, waiting.






Bearcore hurtled onward, scenting the blood so close now, suddenly. He sensed his enemy, felt his mountains of muscle longing for the kill, the first taste of flesh and blood, the first of his revenge. He would kill these creatures, all of them. Vengeance, vengeance.

He moved like an arrow through the night, avoiding trees except to use them as leverage, occasionally. He sped toward his new target, so close, seconds now away.

He saw the vague figure of a man standing in a pool of his own blood, ahead of him. He saw, and lunged.

[Finrod Felagund]

"Elise" whispered Fimbren "We must help Iriana and Taroed."
She nodded and they ran silently towards the sounds of battle.

[Tessar]

“This is it you fool.” Elise muttered to herself as she moved with a speed that belayed her age, moving lightly as possible and gripping her staff with purpose. “If my time in this Middle Earth is almost over, then it will end through the grace of Eru.”

A flicker, a faint shimmering of pale white light, and then a sudden burst of raw power, the pure light of a shining star seemed to fly from Elise’s staff, and the woods moved out of her way as she stepped forward and into battle, the power of a Miar banishing night from the surrounding forest.

Like a thunderbolt her staff fell, smiting down the first warg that came near her and rendering him dead in an instant, his rider suffering the same fate with surprising speed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw another coming at her fast; too fast. It would’ve been over in an instant except that Fimbren threw himself in its path, buying her a precious second to turn and face it.

Lancing from the head of her staff, the white light drew together for a second and then flew straight, burning through the warg and setting a fire within it that smoldered even as the beast gurgled its last and fell, steaming and sparking like the ashes of a great log.

Nodding quickly to Fimbren, she turned again; ready to face the next foe that was foolish enough to approach.

[Finrod Felagund]

Fimbren drew out Ringil, it flashed with a blue light as it shattered the first orc's skull. "For the Noldor and for Middle-Earth!!!" shouted Fimbren. And for a moment, Elise saw a flicker of the light of Valinor in the elf's filthy face. Fimbren moved, as if in a strange dance, weaving and spinning to and fro like a madman, and the orcs could not come near him. He lifted up a burning branch from Taroed's fire and flew back and forth, a blur of shining steel and flame.

[Arat-Falathion]

Sword clenched with both hands, Iriana backed slowly, her back to the fire, trying to keep snarling wargs and towering orcs at bay. Tareod stood likewise beside her, with equal intention and determination. She felt her back getting warmer, perhaps getting too close to the burning corpse, then, suddenly it happened.

The darkness of the night was pierced by a strong white light, diminishing whatever darkness that trembled in its presence, and from the boarders of the wooden camp, Elise and Fimbren charged, causing chaos and havoc among the ranks of the evil minions. The tide turned quickly, Iriana and Tareod suddenly found themselves advancing ground, instead of giving it up. Again her swings with the sword became a blur.

She wavered in and out, ducking mighty swings of heavy swords, and jumping in after, scoring hit after hit. She was just evading such an incoming sword when the very ground started to vibrate in terror. She fell to the ground, unable to hold her balance as she was landing the backstep. A deep guttural roar sounded through the forrest, freezing Iriana's spine, filling her with terror... and the song came to her.

[Lief Erikson]

Dolais kept his arm clasped tightly around Hruad as he helped the man up the stairs. "There we are," he said, as they reached the top. "Imarwyn has the horses."

The woman was already mounted. "Come on!" she called, guesturing anxiously.

Dolais heard no sound of pursuit behind them, but guessed that it was a mere temporary reprieve. A moment of time Glimdrell was buying them, that they all might survive.

He felt a lump form in his throat, but grimly he ignored his feelings. Rushing across the dirt street, he seized the reins of the horse Imarwyn was offering him. Hruad mounted another, and pressed his boots against the animal's haunches.

Their horses began to move off at a canter, heading rapidly for the edge of the military camp.