The Great Quest

The men were clad in light green clothing. They were fair haired and had light blue eyes. Already they were bringing up new arrows. In perfect unison, they crouched on one knee and let loose.

He dodged and both arrows struck his shoulder, one of them sliding neatly off of him and the other jabbing to the bone.

The two archers were on their feet again, drawing swords. But suddenly, another arrow sped out from the trees behind Harnauro. A black arrow, and it slammed into the leafy floor just behind the two figures.

Three figures were crouched in the bushes behind Hanauro now, and they were easily recognizable as orcs.

"Look!" one of the two men said as he pointed at them.

Quickly, they slid from tree to tree, neatly avoiding the arrows that the orcs attempted to pin them down with.




Angbald peered out through the bushes. Not long now at all. Already he could hear the sounds of fighting off in the distance, and he knew that everything was probably well underway. But he had to be sure that the enemy was pinned down by his fighters from those sides before he could sweep his men out across the valley and hit both groups from behind.

He could barely distinguish the figures that thrashed and fought in the trees, but they might still be capable of sending out the men it would take to repel him.

Suddenly he glanced to the side in irritation as a young orc tugged at his arm.

"Captain! We're being hit from behind!"

Angbald cursed and swung his arm to point at a commander who was standing nearby. "You, take thirty men and go and destroy whoever is out there. If thirty is not enough, send someone back to ask for more."

"Yes sir."

Angbald turned his face back to the valley in front of him, struggling to discern how the battle went. Nothing was going to spoil his glory today. Nothing.

Realization flashed through Harnauro's mind, and he altered his course, leaping towards a tree beside the two archers instead of at them, and using it to rebound - towards the orcs.

The archers looked at each other in puzzlement as the wolf suddenly changed targets and hit the orcs, quickly savaging them.

"It must be insane," one of them muttered.

"We did attack it," the other pointed out.

"It's a warg, what else could we do? Whoever heard of a friendly warg?"

The other did not laugh, but raised himself up from the brush as the wolf approached. He kept his ready bow in hand, his arrow ready to pierce the wolf's heart.

His companion followed suit, standing up as well. But although he put his bow away, he drew his sword instead.

"Who are you?" the first one asked, taking a wary step forward, his string ready to release. "We understand the tongue of wolves, among other creatures, so you can speak with us."

"That shall.. not be necesarry," growled Harnauro as the pain of transformation quickly flowed through his form, and he rose onto two human feet.

"You seem to be a foe to the orcs, which makes you an ally of mine. Who be you?"

One of them looked at his comrade, a wry expression on his face. "All things change, brother."

Then he turned back to Harnauro. "My name is Iavan and this is Tohaer. We are watchers of the valley Ethrilien, and when we discovered the danger we have proceeded as swiftly sa we could to overcome it. More of us are also approaching, but we were the closest ones, so we decided to come ahead of the others and do what we could."

Tohaer nodded but did not lower his bow by much. "And before this can continue, we need to have some proof that you truly are on our side. And who are you?"

Harnauro replies sparsely and swiftly, "My name is Harnauro. I've been scouting for those of us defending. If you return with me, the others of your kind can vouch for me and mine."

He turns and heads to go, and the archers lift bows, saying, "We shall need more than words before following. It would be all too easy for you to lure us into an ambush if we blindly trusted you."

Harnauro turns, gives a small rumbling sigh, and says, "I can offer no proof for you. I am not even sure how I became involved in all of this, but suffice to say that Vardor, who is the one seeking to break your seal, is my foe. Know, as well, that if I wished you dead, you would be dead. Such weapons as yours would avail you for naught against me. You may trust me, or not, but I return now to the defenders in the village."

Having finished his long speech - whose length would undoubtedly have shocked his companions had they heard it - he turned to go, letting the archers decide their actions for themselves.

"I will go with you," Iavan said after a hurried discussion with his comrade. "But Tohaer will stay to gather any other watchers who arrive into a unified force. Then they will begin an attack at the enemy's flanks and rear once they have more men. You have seen for yourself that us watchers know how to fight better than these orcs, and with greater numbers we could cause havoc among their ranks and sidetrack the attention of their leader from you."

"Then come. Time is short, and any help we have the others will be glad to know of."

---
Sorry for short post - things will get a bit slow, as I now am back on a modem for a while, and my comp is being evil on me.

*The things are prone to error. I sympathize completely.*

Angbald finally motioned his hand forward. "Charge!"

His troops lunged out of the forest, swords being pulled from sheaths strapped either across their backs or buckled to their belts.

Screams and warlike battle cries pierced the air as the orcs lunged into battle, attacking the villagers of Ethrilien with fierce deadliness. The villagers had armed themselves with spikes and knives, anything which could be used as a weapon or shield was called into play as they fought desperately against the onslaught of attackers.

Harnauro and Iavan suddenly broke from the woods. Iavan's first two arrows pierced their targets' hearts. Then, he lowered his bow as they were too close for proper use of it now, and he drew his long sword. Then, he lunged in, dodging in and out as he stabbed his opponents, wounding half a dozen and killing one.

Harnauro on the other hand attacked their center, tearing them apart with his claws, their weapons leaving no lasting damage on his hide.

When he noticed two of the darker figures approaching, he turned to face them. Now was time to discover what they had, and if his guess had been correct.

He dove for the first one's throat and a moment later found himself smacked into the grass by the creature's sword blade. The wound that had slashed his shoulder open closed, and he was up again, moving with incredible speed as he dodged in and out, wary of the creatures. But they owned no magic. They were armed and well trained, but it would take a very well aimed blow indeed to cause Harnauro any harm.

He finally saw the opening he'd been looking for and dove in, his claws ripping the creature to shreds. His companion leapt forward, digging his sword blade into Harnauro's back leg, but the wolf twisted over completely, his jaws fastening onto its throat and digging in.

With a cry, the creature fell back, dropping his sword and struggling in vain to rip Harnauro's teath away from his throat. But Harnauro only let go of the creature's neck in his own time, and by then his adversary had gone limp.

The people of Ethrilien were being pushed into a smaller and smaller circle, pressed into the middle of their own village by at least two hundred orcs and ten of the darker creatures.

But then, out of the trees suddenly swarmed several men in green. The same types of fighters as Iavan, Harnauro realized. And the archers quickly began harrying the back of the enemy force, no arrow missing.

Even as the larger enemy force began to break apart in confusion, the group in the center gave an extra surged outwards. Combined by the double pressure, the orcish fighters broke, fleeing into the woods and running for all they were worth (Which wasn't much) to save their own skins.




Angbald looked up as his defeated army fled in all directions. He felt no pity for the fighters out there that died, only disappointment that he had failed to defeat them all himself. The cornered villagers fought harder when pinned, even if they were untrained. But all would have gone well for him if not for these archers that had destroyed his second force. The one that he had intended to mop the remainder up with. They had even killed his Cyfras. True, they didn't have magic. But they were some of the best hand to hand fighters his master had.

Irritating that his vision was beginning to blur and grow red at the edges. Although perhaps that was not too unexpected.

He glanced down again at the arrow that protruded from his chest. Ah well. Even if he and his entire command had died, Vardor still had many more troops at his disposal, and they were nearby. The second attack would wipe them all out, no matter how they resisted. And that would leave three other attack forces to defeat the Castle in the Clouds.

The image of the battle faded from the misty stone where Mal had watched it. He looked up from the blank stone to the cloaked face of the wizard, or whatever being this warrior served - despite the appearance, he had sensed no magic in the scrying. Perhaps his own lack of magic had left him unable to feel it, but he sensed things were otherwise.

"My companions seem to be doing well for themselves."

"So they do," responded the figure, laying his hands atop each other on the table, "But they have many forces to send. They repelled this one, but we must keep them off balance."

"And that is where I come in?" Mal asked, cautiously, still not trusting this figure.

"You are a thief, an assassin, a figure of the night. Even without your birthright, you have walked the darkness under the stars unseen for far longer than any mortal. These armies seem to place much in their commanders. When the next force arrives, I shall send you there - albeit still only as a mortal - and leave it to you to remove the head of that force and leave confusion when they least expect it."

Mal nodded, for he had played the role of assassin before. Ironically, his last assignment had been serving the being these new foes sought to release. His lips twisted into a slight smile, but then faded, as he asked, "And what of the other forces, surely they will be prepared."

"Aye. And we will have other surprises."

Iavan limped up to where the other people of Ethrilien were. "If the watchers had not arrived right when they did, things would have gone poorly indeed. Listen, I know you all might hate to hear this, but the enemy surely have more attack forces to send. I fear that we will be incapable of repelling the second attack. The women and children must all leave the valley, along with all of the wounded. And I think that all of the men should too, except for the ones who are absolutely determined to stay."

Low murmers arose among the people at this, but they eventually saw the wisdom of this. The people of Ethrilien were peaceful in general, and few desired to stay and fight. Finally, only five of them were left in the place where the village had once stood, and they picked up weapons left on the field by dead enemies.

Slythre glanced over their small fighting force. "All right, we've got these and a handful of watchers, along with the company. Minus Ayna, who went with the other wounded. So what do we do? Stand a rear guard action for the villagers or wait here and fight whatever they send?"

Harnauro looked about - few others seemed to be voluntering any words. Finally, he growled out, "Well then, let us find a place to fortify, such as deep woods. If we can prevent them from fighting us more than one or two at a time, we can keep their forces back longer. You people know this area - are their any good defensive places near here?"

Iavan nodded. "Two places which are defensible enough." He motioned with his fingers. "There and there. One a hill, and the other a nest of brambles and broken logs that it would be a tremendous effort to break through. A natural defense for those lucky enough to be inside it."

"We'll take the hill," Slythre said after looking it over. "There are several bushes we could be positioned in there, too. And we could also have a far better view of everything else that is happening."

Quickly, the company climbed the hill and did their best in the short time they had to make it defensible.




The Nightrider looked at them, amusement fluttering along the edges of the void. The fools really had no inkling of his master's plan. He did not care whether they lived or died, he simply wanted them out of the way so that they would not hinder him. And they were getting out of the way right now. How convenient. They seemed to think that in the vast scheme of things, they really were important. Already he could see in the distance the winged bats swooping out of the sky, a cloud of mounted steeds ready for the assault on the Castle in the Clouds.




In the distance, the sky filled with great bats and other creatures, a large force of mounted sky warriors.

Slythre's jaw dropped as they swooped out of the evening sky. "We cannot face them."

A lone figure materialized in the darkening valley and walked across the green meadow. He was robed in black, and his hand was pressed tight around something.

Gungar pointed. "Vardor."

The figure raised both hands and clasped the object in them both. A beam of golden light swept up from it and the sky shimmered. Then with a brilliant flash of golden light, a white castle appeared in the sky, outlined in gold. Up and around it the creatures swirled, dropping their riders into the castle to begin the fierce surprise attack and then swooping down into the valley for more riders. The hosts of evil were coming out of the woods in droves, and Vardor had disappeared.

Flashes of magic irrupted around the castle and explosions lit up the air. The battle had begun.

Vardor let the shadows unfold around himself, and he stood alone on a blank stone platform, nearby all else. His senses were built up to their maximum, and he smelled the magic around himself. Behind him, two Nightriders emerged from the shadows, one on each side of him. They were reunited as he had deemed it worthwhile to expend the power it had taken to bring back its companion from the darkness of the empty void on the verge of reality.

He let the shadows enfold him into their embrace again, and the Nightriders with him. The cold emptiness of complete dark surrounded him, and he floated with them above the castle, watching the battle and considering when best to make their move.

Arnon stared in amazement at the scene that faced him. It seemed a new star had been born in the sky. A glowing castle, surrounded by flying warriors of darkness. It was unbelievable.

"Look!" said one of his followers, pointing down at the small fortifications which protected a small hill, far below. "They are not under attack, but I know that they are the people who we granted shelter to."

"They will have a lot of explaining to do, as well," Arnon said. Then, glancing up at the castle, "Although by the looks of that, I doubt that they'll be in any mood to give it at present."

He leaned forward and whispered something into the eagle's ear. It nodded sharply and dove downwards towards the hill, the other riders close behind him.

Mal stared through the air at Vardor and his Nightriders. Before him, a wall of what he had thought was stone shimmered and flickered. Like before, it showed the battlefield, but this one, according to his host, would also let one go there. When he saw the time to strike...
He looked down at the blade in his hand. Of black obsidian, it supposedly would be a bane to any being with the touch of magic - the more powerful the magic, the greater the damage from the blade. If he had not had his own power gone, its very touch would likely have killed him.

He sighed, and looked at Vardor again. The maia sat cloaked in shadows, surveying the area with a grim smile. But the shadow magic was no bar to the sight of its creator.

Flowing with the wind, the bat dropped its master who landed easily on his feet, sword in hand and ready to do battle. The elves who had so far guarded this castle were well trained and armed, but they had been caught completely off guard. Already other orcs, Cyfras and a couple Nrakes had plunged into the deeper sections of the castle and were fighting in the halls. Everything was indeed going according to plan. Now all they had to do was wait for Vardor and his Nightriders to do their part.

Mal took a step closer and Vardor turned to glance over, seeing him. "Have you accepted my offer, Malagar? You have been long in responding."

One of the Nightriders reached a cold hand down and gripped Vardor's shoulder. He looked up in annoyance, and then back at Mal, who had the Nightrider's complete attention.

"You bear the sister blade of the one that nearly unmade me," the Nightrider intoned in a deep, rasping voice. "He is devoid of the life of magic."

Vardor looked back at Mal, his features hardening. "You have joined the broodlord and his cohorts. Might one ask why?"

"It is not our affair," the Nightrider told Vardor. "His path is set, and there is no point in trying to change his mind or discover what reasons he has."

"But we shall at least deprive him of that," Vardor said, pointing at the sword.

A shadow leapt from the darkness. Mal twisted the sword blade and blocked it just in time. Another hurtled out. And another. They swarmed around him and the sword grew to a flaring beam of light in his hand. All of the shadows that curved around his body disintegrated into nothingness.

But when the attack stopped, Vardor and the Nightriders were gone.

Ayna looked down in amazement as the battle unfolded below. Squadrons of troops still covered the ground, but their numbers were thinning as more and more of them were picked up and thrown into the castle. On the hill where her friends were positioned, she saw one or two figures in sight, watching in amazement as the battle proceeded. But then, out of the night sky appeared several white specks. They hovered above for a moment before soaring down, landing on the edge of the hill. A couple figures dismounted from the white animals and walked forward, soon entering into conversation with the people from the hill.

They were fairly obviously not sent by Vardor, and they were very possibly friends. What was happening down there, she dearly wanted to know.

She winced slightly as the woman who was working to heal her wounds dabbed in a more painful spot. Whatever was going on down there, they were certainly better off without her being there to hinder them any further. But she would be here to welcome them when they returned, having defeated their enemies. And knowing them, she had no doubt that they would.

Arnon landed his eagle gently on the edge of the hill and dismounted.

Two figures materialized out of the darkness on the hill, each of them aiming a bow at him and his comrades. One he quickly recognized as Harnauro, and the other he did not recognize. Probably a native of this land.

"I come in peace," Arnon said, raising a hand and stepping closer.

"None who are here now come in peace," the man beside Harnauro answered as he raised his bow a little further, pointing it at Arnon's head.

"I will ammend my statement," Arnon said, but his look at the other man was ice. Although in this light, the man probably didn't notice. "I am coming here in peace for the time being, but we are ready to fight these orcs and help you purge them from the face of the earth."