The Great Quest

Mal isn't actually at the battle yet. He is watching Vardor through a portal, that he hasn't yet gone through. Sorry.

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Harnauro held up his hand, halting the archer next to him. "This one... this one, he may be our ally."

Harnauro's face seemed carved from stone as he looked over Arnon, and he said, "You are welcome among us, for you have brought much needed aid. But more will be needed, I think, before this is over."

*Simply edit the end of your post and make him go through.*

Iavan lowered his bow, but slowly. He didn't know how far either this man or any of the others were to be trusted.

And the wolfman had helped them back there, but the enemy had proved in the past that they considered the loss of a few orcs a small price to pay in exchange for the trust of a spy. And he had never known any good to come from the wolves. But for now, it was best to accept them all. Because if the wolfman and these others were indeed enemies, then the rest of his watchers would most likely perish very quickly indeed. They had to trust them.

Arnon took a step closer. His back was ramrod straight and his face cold, but it was easy to see a hidden strength that made him dangerous. "In that case you must tell me at least what all of this," he motioned his hand at the castle and the attackers that swarmed around it, "Is about."

*Mal isn't actually going through just yet, though.*

Blac Luitenant - feel free to join the story! It is very close to ending, though, so you likely will not get much to do.

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Harnauro said softly, in a low rumble, "I know only a little of this situation. But there is one above trying to break free the darkness that once scoured this world. If you come with me, for a moment, while the battle lulls, I can take you to one who can explain more."

With that, Harnauro turns, and heads back to the others, to both have all explained to Arnon, and to have all there confer on strategies.

"We can't take him to Ayna now," Slythre said as she walked alongside Harnauro. "She's gone from this place, along with the other villagers. They will probably return when the battle is over, but until then . . ."

"Then you could explain it to him."

"I think I already know enough," Arnon said as he took a step closer. He then pointed his finger upwards. "Is it your desire to get into that castle?"

They looked at each other for a moment before turning back to him. "That would help," Slythre admitted.

"I think we can help you there. These eagles are perfectly capable of carrying you as well as us up and dropping us off within the building."

"It'll have to be planned carefully," Faradin said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that the inhabitants of the castle won't take us also for enemies and kill us."

"It can be arranged. We could drop you off deeper into the city. I think that at this point most of their fighters will be at the walls."

"That'll be fine," Slythre said after a moment's thought. "In that case we'd best get started."

*If you're still at the remains of the village, you're not far. I'm sure you can get off in time to get to the others before the battle is entirely over, but it'll most likely be coming to a close.

By the way, I suggest that you don't kill off your character. It just seems like it would be rather like a Darth Maul appearance and disappearance, if you know what I mean. If your character had been added in further back, this would probably be the perfect time to do as you thought. But adding him in and then taking him out again in such a short space of time doesn't exactly strike me as especially cool.*

Harnauro grudingly nods agreement to Arnon's proposal, and says, "We have little time left, so let us be off as soon as we can."

---

Sorry for short post, again. But, soon, should be more active again.

*Okay, although now that we are approaching the climax, I would appreciate it if you posted more frequently.*

Arnon turned around swiftly and walked over to the eagles. After talking to them for a little while, he returned, the eagle looking slightly disgruntled, but still willing enough.

"They are ready to take us up now."

Soon, the watchers and members of the company had mounted the eagles. Swiftly, they launched into the air, white specks moving swiftly towards the awesome structure of the castle.





Vardor unfurled the shadows and they swiftly dissapated.

There were too few shadows here, in this bright castle, for his magic in that area to be of much use. But he still had other things. The Nightriders' powers were also probably effected somewhat by this.

Walking along the bright halls, it was some time before they actually found an inhabitant. But when Vardor did, he seized the elf girl by the hair and dragged her to himself. It did not take much convincing before she told them the directions they needed. After that she was useless, and he did not bother to use magic when he snapped her neck. Better to save up everything he had for the upcoming battle. He doubted that they would leave the link itself completely unguarded.

Harnauro looked about as the air whirled past him, the eagle he was on hurtling up into the sky. Near him, most of his companions rode upon other grand masters of the sky. The castle in the sky, that had before seemed merely a small, dark cloud, now grew as they drew closer, revealing soaring towers and dark walls of stone.

A eery cry was the only warning before a dozen bat-winged beasts burst out of the clouds about them, charging screaming towards the eagles. Harnauro snarled, and clutched to the eagle with his legs as he drew out his massive bow, and loosed a shot that impaled one of the beasts. Meanwhile, the others were engaged by rider-less eagles, serving as 'escort' for the party and Arnon's best warriors.

Harnauro managed to loose another arrow, when his eagle twisted about beneath him, evading a foe, and Harnauro cursed as his bow fell from his grip, and soon dropped into no more than a speck dropping towards the ground. The beast chased after them for a moment, then was torn aside by two eagles. Harnauro glanced about, but the rest of the batwings were falling lifeless to the earth.

Looking back up, he saw the castle approaching - they would be upon it in only moments.

The eagles swept over the buildings and the interior of the castle, finally gliding down near the heart of the city and dismounting their riders. Getting past the arrows and flaming darts that had protected this section of the city from attack had been difficult, but now they were through.

Arnon quickly motioned them to follow him. "I've seen a castle rather similar to this before, and I think I roughly know which direction we should pursue."

He drew his sword from its sheath and led them at a quick pace down into the maze of passageways and halls.

Mal watched through the transparent wall, following the path of Vardor and his Nightriders. The blade in his hands seemed to pulse, eager to fight - but Mal realized it was his own feelings, and nothing belonging to the blade.

He turned to his side, where the black armored figure stood, also watching. "Why do we not go through - I thought your plan was to stop him?"

From behind the man, the cloaked man said, "You would stand little chance against Vardor, in your state. He shall no doubts send his Nightriders off to deal with your companions at some point, and we shall send you then to aid him, while we ... deal with Vardor ourself, shall we say."

Mal sighed, and turned back to watch.

Vardor glanced over his shoulder for the third time, certain he felt someone watching him. But just as before, there was no one. Too many strange things in this strange place. But it was only a short time before his master was free, and then this castle and this battle would no longer trouble him. Everything was drawn to a point, and the end of all this was just beyond his sight. Although perhaps it should not be called the end, more like the beginning. Sauron would have to be forced to acknowledge his former master, and so would all the others of his scattered followers. Then they would summon the Balrogs back from hiding, and have to deal with the humans, dwarves and elves that populated Middle Earth . . .

But that was all for his master to do. All he himself had to do was rescue him, and give him the chance.

Just a little further to go.

Vardor felt outwards with his magical senses, feeling the halls ahead and searching for some other protection he might not have thought of. But there was none. Only a couple well sealed doors.

The Nightrider leaped forward at his command and the door was splintered to shreds.

Vardor looked up at the nearest Nightrider. "Watch our backs. This is the only way in or out, I think, so if anyone pursues us, they'll come this way. Don't spare any that do."

The Nightrider took up its position by the door, feeling already the building energy in the place. Sounds of fighting drifted down the corridor, and it waited, impassive, neither eager nor fearful of any fights. Simply... emotionless.

A sound formed behind it, and it spun about with the speed of a striking adder, and found itself facing a man. Despite the oddity - that a being had sprung forth where none should be - it felt no surprise, and simply sent a dark flame spinning towards the foe. The man raised a sword, which seemed to radiate of... wrongness, unnaturalness, strangeness... and the flame hit the sword and simply vanished.

If the Nightrider could have felt emotion, a flicker of fear would have crossed its void of thought. Yet it didn't, and simply raised its own dark blade to fight.

The Nightrider dodged backward, avoiding a well aimed sweep of his opponent's sword and then meeting steel with steel. His own blade scythed sideways at his opponent, striking sparks against the deadly metal his opponent weilded. A blade that he sensed was even more dangerous than the one that had once devoured his companion.

He met steel with steel again, and the blades flickered, darting in and out as the Nightrider's superior speed forced Mal back across the hall.

Blue mist surrounded them, blinding all sight inside the hall.

Swiftly twirling the sword, Mal quickly began to make it dissapate. But suddenly, out of the darkness stretched a shape, yawning out to greet him in its wide embrace. His steel was knocked aside, but he managed to compress and heave his opponent away from him.

Suddenly pain stabbed downwards from his shoulder into the rest of his body. An icy cold, where the Nightrider's fingers had stabbed into his shoulder.

It was possible to keep on the fight in spite of the wound, but now Mal sensed that death was a certainty, unless the Nightrider became overconfident and made some mistake. But overconfidence he doubted the Nightrider would feel. Or even could feel.

The Nightrider moved forward, blade slicing inwards, cutting apart defenses and slashing for the kill.

Suddenly it jerked back from its opponent, staring over Mal's shoulder.

An arrow hissed out from behind him, striking the Nightrider and disintegrating harmlessly. Then Faradin leapt past him, sword flashing, and the other members of the company attacked.

Harnauro soured over Mal's head, his form grey and vicious, and put aside thoughts and questions - why was Mal here, and how - and instead focused on the foe.
He slammed into the side of the foe as it parried Faradin's attack, and spun it about, though it sent him flying, and sent icy cold racing through his form.
Spinning around, he saw Mal staggering back up - another question to ask later, for the Mal he had known would have hardly been taken down by such a blow, even from such as being as this - and Harnauro surged at the Nightrider's back.
The enemy struck Faradin's blade aside, and prepared to strike, but had to put its attention to Harnauro, as he sank teeth into the darkness of its body. It, again, knocked him aside, and raised its blade, but two arrows and a dagger soared into its chest, knocking it back - at least one of the barbs had been enchanted. Faradin struck again, and it blocked it, only to be forced to turn aside an attack from Mal, who was back in the fight. It sent blue fire staggering them back, but another blow struck its back from the wolf, and as it spun about, more arrows struck it. It could have easily handled any one of them, or held off two, but pressed as it was, and alone...
Even as the thought crossed its mind, Faradin sunk his blade past its guard, and into its chest. The blade glowed green, and the Nightrider let out a whispered breath in pain, before striking back, ignoring the wolf clawing its back, and sliced Faradin along the arm.
But even as he staggered back, another blade sank in - Mal's pulsing weapon. The Nightrider lifted his blade to strike him down - and then, simply Ceased.

The companions stared at the empty space where the Nightrider had been, and at the faint afterimage that seemed to be all that was left of it. They then turned to look at Mal, who smiled faintly, and then leaned against a wall, rubbing his injured side.

He spoke first. "Well, then, glad to see you all here. As to the questions I see you asking... well, it is a rather long tale. Let us say that I am now here aiding you... though 'gainst what, I know not. Could someone inform me as to what Vardor is seeking here?"

"Morgoth," Slythre said as she picked up her dagger from the floor. "He is seeking his dark master, who is imprisoned in the void. The link to that void appears to be here, and we have to find a way to stop him.

"But where did you get this blade? With it, combined with the other powers you possess, we can surely defeat him."

Mal frowned, and mutters to himself, "Ah, that explains some things..."

Looking back up at the rest, he says, "Well, I have bad news, good news, and bad news. The first bad news - my 'other powers', aren't. So aside from this blade, and my wits, I can't offer much else. The good news is that, from what I've heard, Vardor might not even be able to release his Master, which matches what I know, myself, of his imprisonment. Even if he is able to, I doubt he will get the chance unhindered. The bad news is, all the power he focuses into releasing it might well be taken by another foe, and for all I know, he could use that power to make himself even greater than Morgoth was."

"Who would do such a thing?" Gungar muttered in astonishment. "And how?"

"That is entirely theory," Slythre said, brushing the matter aside. "And I do not believe Vardor would have enough magic to bring such a thing about, anyway. Now come, we have bloody work yet ahead of us. Vardor must be stopped, and we must use every resource available to us to do this."




Vardor continued to hurry down a marble hallway and splintered the next door to shards in front of him. He was nearly there. He could feel it. The Nightrider beside him also moved at a steady, quick pace. But he showed none of the agitation that he himself felt. The Nightrider probably completely calm.

"Ready yourself for what lies ahead. Whoever guards the door, if there is someone, will likely be powerful.
You must hold that person off long enough for me to get to the door itself."

"I am to be a sacrifice, in other words?"

Vardor was silent.

"I will do as you command."

"Thank-you. I thought you would." Vardor peered more closely at what lay ahead. They passed out of the corridor into a large hall. It was lit as if by some inner source, filled with golden light. At the other end of the hall was a great door. It was made of neither wood nor iron, but of a material as straight and smooth as the walls of Orthanc.

Hurriedly, he moved across the floor and to the great doors.

Pulling the jewel from within his robes, he pressed it into the lock on the door. It fitted exactly.

There was a blinding flash of light and the door was illuminated in brilliance, bedazzling his eyes.

"Stop!"

He dimmly heard the shout from across the hall, and he felt the Nightrider slip away from beside him.

His hand closed around the door handle, and he tugged it open.

The blackness beyond it was overwhelming, similar to the Nightriders and yet so much more. Its ferocity and sucking emptiness was straining to devour him. And deep within the darkness, he heard his master, and knew he was there.




An opening pierced the dismal, unending dark. A flicker of light, and the voice of a loyal servant. One of the few who remained so, but he did not know if he could reach him.

He strained muscles which were long unused. His density and being had become separate as time passed, and it was only with great effort that he began to pull himself together and press at the opening in the barrier of empty night.

A star swept across the sea of darkness towards him, and he inwardly groaned. But the tormenter would not stop him now. He was together enough to resist, at last, and release some of the biting hatred that had long filled him. There was a chance yet, even if it only was a small one.

He struck at the star, but it grew to a brilliance, the white ship filled with a light emenating from itself. On its deck, a man stood, clothed in white and silver. He stepped down from the steering wheel and struck downwards, his whip a white lash that tore at his being, pushing him back into the darkness, replacing bitter anger with fear and pain.

But he had been wrapped up too long, and this was the closest he had ever gotten. So long as that light remained, that opening, all was not lost.

Pulling himself together, he plunged from his lair, attacking the ship. His attack was weak, slothful, and laughing, Earendil drove him back.

But Morgoth's next attack was even feircer, and Earendil's smile faded. His ship backed, and for the first time he began to pay attention to the white light in the distance that filled Morgoth with hope.

He must keep him from paying attention to that! Distracting him was the only chance to keep him from realizing what was giving Morgoth the ability to pull back together his old strength.

He was not yet strong enough to reach the doorway.

Earendil was thrust back from the side of his ship, into the center of it as his next attack struck with even greater vigor.

But Earendil had had enough. He ceased his defense along the rim of the void, his ship turning and moving towards the opening.




Vardor's eyes widened at the sight of the approaching star. He flailed with magic, attempting to obliterate it, but the magic faded as it struck a stronger one.

Harnauro, still in the form of a wolf, gave a snarl, and hurried down the corridor. Mal nodded, and said, "We have little time, and whatever may be befalling will be ill no matter the outcome, if we do not get there to halt it."

The others exchanged grim glances, and hurried down the corridor, weapons at the ready as they went onward.

As Vardor opened the gateway into the Void, another watched him. Through a shining portal upon an obsidian wall, the man watched, standing alone. Malagar had gone through, and his son had left his side.

As he watched Vardor's work, he was struck by how very old he had become. He had once had a name, had he not? His thoughts were jumbled and scattered, and, for a moment, his name drifted on the brink of his mind... Alatar? The thought immediately was gone again, and his head became filled with so many things...

He sighed, and put all aside, focusing on the scene he watched. Even then, he could see the portal widen to completeness, and he began his own preperations. Reaching down to the ground, he lifted up an object that had lain at his feet - a crystal matrix with numerous gleaming stones placed in various of its intersections.

A sound rustled behind him, and he knew it was his child returned. "They are ready?" he asked softly.

"Yes, father."

The old man bowed his head, and then lifted up the crystal matrix - his masterwork, aside from his children, but something that, if one knew the keys, could tap into the Song directly.

As he looked through the portal, he sighed softly, and then began to move the stone upon the matrix - and as he did, it began to hum, softly at first, and then with resounding power.

The company again was involved in battle with a Nightrider, but this time the battle seemed less important. It was shoved to the side, irrelevant to the outcome of the climactic conflict of the powers.




Morgoth strained from the void, squeezing from the emptiness now that his tormenter was no longer there to stop him.

Pulling himself most of the way out of it, he seized the back of the ship, shaking it wildly.

The whip lashed his fingers and he screamed, but he held on and pulled. The ship sank closer towards the void.

Earendil lashed fiercely, but Morgoth continued to pull, his strength growing still.