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A fire
I bring to extinguishment.
A heart
I bring to stand still.
But a sense
robs me of my calm.
Who possesses the greater power?
-Dark Elvish Wisdom
North of Middle-Earth, North of the realm of the Kraggash, Late Third Age
Cadhalor observed the devastated plains around the fortress and what was happening there from a save distance.
The continuous rain had quenched the flames and turned the ground into black mud; the ardent earth was still steaming. Through the mire the men of the Galran Unuk were stomping and moved every dead tree that had not fully burned to ashes, to the side to see what lay beneath. It had to be a hundred armed people who searched the by fire cleared landscape for remains, tracks or hints of the whereabouts of the murderers and robbers. Additionally, groups of eight warriors had gathered that were covered by two archers who observed the surroundings.
One of these troops who led white dogs on long leashes hurried straight towards the cave in which Cadhalor and Thangrineth had found shelter with their companions. They seemed to know where the best hide-outs were.
He, Inúr and the Obbôna had left right after Thangrineth had disappeared. He did not want to get involved into a fight again. Munugash and the antidote were waiting.
As soon as he thought of the poison, he thought to feel that his ability to see lessened several breaths long and that he would loose the sense in his hands. Quickly he moved the fingers and rubbed his eyes. Everything was like before. »They will not catch up to us. They have no mounts and are at least a mile behind us.« Cadhalor turned the steed and let it trod on.
The slave he led with a cord behind him. He definitely thought Inúr capable of following her old owner out of desperation. That was the cord for. He still viewed her as too valuable to have her die in the gruesome north of the world. She had a few scratches on arms and shoulders that had originated from falling rocks in the cave. And she was coughing a lot, a late effect of the smoke.
The flesh-thief limped groaning and wailing behind, for there was nothing she could have been riding on. The four-legged ugly creature with the unspeakable name that Thangrineth had acquired from the Kraggash had not survived the inferno.
Even now were drops of water falling from the grey clouds. They washed down the burned skin from Kajara and cooled her wounds that she had suffered from the jump through the flames. Cadhalor could not yet kill her, as much as he liked to have done so already. First, she had to complete the parchment.
He thought about the welcome of the goblins. Thangrineth's words held a truth: The given task had not been fulfilled. But the king received at least his prized tokens back. That should be worth the antidote.
But Cadhalor intended to make preparations. He would cut off a part of the parchment and claim to have hidden it. As soon as he had left the land of the Kraggash, he would yield it to one of the goblins and no moment earlier.
Again he felt a tearing in his chest, followed by a pressure that let him believe to suffocate. He forced himself to a freeing cough and the air flowed again into him. The poison notified its presence more often than he was comfortable with.
He urged Sardaï to walk faster and did not regard the protests of the two women.
Cadhalor thought about what he would or could do if the king would not be inclined to hand out the antidote. Munugash would surely let himself be lured with something.
The Obbôna could serve as object of trade. Or he would craft him an instrument, a bone or skull flute, maybe from the bones of the flesh-thief. Fresh remains were usually not used for the making of instruments, because they did not sound well and were not aged, but for Munugash they were good enough.
Kraggash were goblins and this ridiculous race could be lured best by targeting their curiosity. Cadhalor would think of a silly story around the flute and Munugash could not do else but to yield the antidote to him.
It got to him that he could not simply slay the goblins. He did not want to exclude that possibility however, depending on his own condition and the options that would come up. That solution he liked best however: Munugash and his followers dead to his feet and he in possession of the antidote.
Cadhalor wiped water from his eyes. He thought of Thangrineth, who had proven with her solo action what she really was: ruthless and considering her personal advantage alone. Not for a single second he had believed that the Dark Elvish maiden would have began the journey with noble aims. The own benefit had driven her out of the cave and hopefully directly into the arms of death.
He looked back, where the two women were walking and he saw that they would not be able to keep up for much longer. The stride through the mire robbed them quickly of their powers. But they were simply progressing too slowly. In the end, they would have the men of the Galran Unuk with their hounds at their necks, after all.
As they met a barbarian on the way, who was driving a carriage with two ponies did Cadhalor not hesitate for long. He forced him with a well-dosed amount of fear to let the two women jump up on his cart and to bow to his will.
From now on the journey back to Munugash's hall was coming by a little quicker. By the evening, they had to make a rest. Even Cadhalor felt strangely tired. Offside the road they stopped and used the tarpaulin to raise up a tent next to the cart against the rain and kindled a fire. The barbarian was taking care of the ponies.
Kajara used the time of rest to work on the parchment.
Cadhalor saw that she let several gaps intact. »What are you doing?«
She tried to conjure a smile on the maltreated face. »My divine lord, I worship you and do what you ask of me. But do understand that I seek to secure myself«, she spoke and her burned lips sprung open. Blood ran over the black discolored skin. »As soon as we have reached the goblins' halls I will close the open spots and you will let me go as reward.«
He looked at her and then he laughed loudly. »Certainly, Obbôna«, he said amused. »Today you decide what I do.« In an instant he became serious and in his voice swung death. With his right hand he grasped for the loose end of the cord, with which the tarpaulin was held in place and flailed it across her disfigured face. A bashing sound, the skin tore open and even more blood emerged.
»Dare one more time to speak in this manner to me and I will kill you«, he promised. »Complete the parchment. Now! If I see only a drop of your impure blood on the writing, I will open your veins and let you run dry.«
She nodded hastily and wiped the blood away with her arm.
Cadhalor saw that Inúr's expression had darkened. She was doing her best to bring a greater distance between herself and the flesh-thief, what was not really easy under the tarpaulin. »What is the meaning of this?«
»Forgive me, milord«, she answered and turned her head into his direction. Black strands of hair hung over her forehead, the rain had entirely seeped through her. »I do not want to come into touch with the Obbôna. T me, she belongs to the most disgusting creatures that I could ever think of.«
Kajara laughed spitefully.
»By now I am quite glad to have lost my sight«, she called almost enraged. »Something like you I do not want to see! Your shameful deeds against the people of the Elves have damned you to a hundred deaths. And if I would still have my ability to see, I would get my hands on a weapon and strike you down myself!«
Her burning speech brought the Obbôna to only laugh more, through which more spots on her skin were torn. Inúr however formed her hands to fists.
Cadhalor found it astounding how honest the woman was sounding as she sided with the Dark Elves. Surely, she would rather like to be at Thangrineth's side, but she was submitting to the wish of her prior mistress, who had given her away. Dark Elvish law.
»Be silent!«, he ordered and left it open whom of the women he had meant.
By the sight of Inúr, Cadhalor got an idea. He walked up to the Obbôna, who looked up scared, made herself small and looked down on the parchment, whether or not some blood had seeped on it.
»My divine lord, it isn't easy to complete the missing symbols«, she spoke in her defense.
Wordless he took the piece of writing away from her, walked up to Inúr and laid it down before her. Then he went to crouch infront of her. »Touch the parchment that lies before you«, he ordered. »Do you feel any rills that have come from a quill with which the writer banned the formula onto the parchment?«
»No, my divine lord!«, the Obbôna was screaming aghast. »She cannot do it! She is only a stupid slave! I, I am the only one who can save you from death! I ...«
Cadhalor ignored her and watched Inúr, who with a smile that would have rivaled that of a Dark Elf, was touching carefully over the sheet.
»I can make them out«, she proclaimed after a while. »It is not easy, but I feel the rills under my fingertips.«
As a token flew past Cadhalor, he reached out his hand and caught it before it could hit Inúr. It was a hammer that had come from the tool box of the cart. Coldly he looked over his shoulder.
The Obbôna had gotten up. »No, she mustn't do that! She shall die«, she nagged. »I will save you, my divine lord! You must be indebted to me and you will be mine!« She starred at him from far opened eyes. »I want that you are mine!«
As answer did Cadhalor hurl the hammer after her and struck her before the chest. Groaning she fell on her back.
»Milord?«, Inúr asked nervously. »What has happened?«
»The flesh-thief and I have realized to the same time that she has become expendable.« He stood up and walked up to Kajara, who crawled away from him and faded into the undergrowth. »I wished I would have come to that recognition earlier.« Cadhalor jumped into Sardaï's saddle and pursued her through the falling rain.
The steed rampaged through the fire, reached Kajara and and huffed dangerously. Glowing ashes and sparks rose from its hooves, fell unto the Obbôna and struck her at several spots.
She gave a sound of pain, rolled up and covered herself entirely in mud.
»Please«, she whimpered. »My divine lord, I did it only because ...«
Cadhalor looked down on her. Rage and disgust overcame him and he let Sardaï move a glowing hoof on her back. The scent of incinerated flesh rose up, she screamed like an animal, while the form of the horse-shoe was eating away at her anyway burned skin. »You will die, Obbôna. but not through me or my steed. That privilege would be too high for you«, he proclaimed and enjoyed her suffering that she had more than deserved. »The scum of the Kraggash will put you down as they desire. And it will be painful.«
Sardaï removed the hoof and neighed loudly, the ears stood up and he raised the head. Something made the steed uneasy.
Cadhalor took the bow from the protective bag, opened the quiver on the saddle and laid an arrow on the string. He had let himself become distraction by the joy about the impending death of the Obbôna.
The Dark Elf saw the encampment no three steps away, the barbarian stood next to the cart and looked questioningly at him. Inúr sat silently there and waited. The Obbôna lay still, her wound on her back was steaming.
Then twigs and branches broke, something rumbled as a heavy creature began to move. From the undergrowth flew a thick branch straight for Cadhalor.
The Dark Elf did not even require a sign to his steed to lead it to the side; the attentive stallion dodged by himself. The projectile hit instead the barbarian man, shattered his chest and head. The power of the impact pressed the man back, the side-wall of the cart broke, deadly wounded he landed on the load area.
Cadhalor shot into the thicket.
A heartbeat after did a grey, furred troll appear, clothed in dirty, wet skins of bears and swung two long, young trees that he had torn from the ground and used as clubs. He appeared slimmed down and determined to do anything to finally get something to eat. The arrow had hit his shoulder what only made him more angry. He opened the jaws to a thundering roar and displayed the strong, yellow teeth.
The Dark Elf remained calm, called his powers and concentrated for the next shot. Another chance he would not get, for that the troll was too close already. He dealt the monster a second arrow to the right eye. The movements of the assailant slowed down and he began to sway. Groaning, he fell into the mire.
Loud screams became loud about them. The troll had not been alone.
The ponies that were pulling the cart suddenly rushed ahead under a scared neigh and tried to get away from the beasts. One of the ropes was caught around Inúr's leg and was suddenly torn from her feet and dragged along. Cracking some of the cords snapped, the tarpaulin was ripped to pieces.
Haggard trolls broke now from all sides through the thicket and began to their pursuit. It was impossible to Cadhalor to estimate the exact number of foes, everything was drowning in chaos. The gnawing hunger in their inner made them even more aggressive and unpredictable. A dangerous fight was ahead of him. He felt the tingle along his spine, his powers showed him that they were there to aid him - and disappeared. Before his eyes circled black stars and the arm in which he held the bow lost its power. The poison was making its appearance again.
Three trolls engaged Cadhalor, as if they would smell that he suffered weakness.
He led the nightmarish steed against the first foe and let it snap its jaws. The incredible sharp teeth tore great pieces of flesh from the body, struck veins so that black blood was splattering. Roaring, the monster fell and tried to clutch the wound with its hands.
Cadhalor concentrated, suppressed the stars before his eyes and gave the arm its old power back. The next troll he shot straight through the maw and killed it instantly. The third foe made an unexpected, long jump and struck after him with a long chain.
The Dark Elf ducked beneath the heavy links, but the stallion was hit at the neck and slipped on the slippery mud.
Cadhalor hurled the bow away. He leaped away from the saddle so that he would not become buried beneath his own steed, rolled once over the ground, came to stand on his feet and hurried in the same movement to the side.
There, where he had just stood did the chain hit. Mire splashed about.
The Dark Elf drew his short swords, which reverse side was slightly toothed. Then he took a run-up and slid towards the monster, that used the chain like a metal whip and tried to hit and enfold him with it. While the troll missed him, did Cadhalor close in and prepared himself for a jump. He would rip open the throat of his foe that was shown to him openly whenever the troll reached out for another attack.
Again the thicket bore another enemy. But it was no troll, that came forth in a ducked position and came very quickly towards Cadhalor. A little taller than the usual men, strong muscled and with wild hair he raised a spear.
Cadhalor had not expected to see one of the hillmen alone to charge at a troll or him. And it was strange to see one here. The Kraggash had eradicated anything with their poison that they did not like - except for the Galran Unuk.
Infront of his eyes did the hillman strike his spear into the flank of the spear and broke off the tip. He thought to be able to hear slight crack as the metal loosened itself from the wooden shaft. The man jumped back and called something in his tongue, took a new spear-tip from his pouch and set it on the wooden lance. The troll howled in pain and tried to pull the tip out that was showing in his side.
The Dark Elf saw how the splintered metal cut the fingers of the troll and was only pushed deeper through the pressure. It howled even more and sank down, forgetting about the hillman or Cadhalor.
»Milord!«, he perceived Inúr's scream and turned around.
The small cart had been spotted by five trolls. Two had already torn the ponies apart and were now feasting on the warm flesh; another stuffed the remains of the barbarian into its maw and again another had grabbed the slave and raised her over his head to let her drop between his teeth. The fifth troll waited.
The hillman had also heard Inúr's scream and gave a row of sounds towards the forest.
Winds of the East, of blessed Cuivienen, where are you? I require your assistance!
Cadhalor hurried past the hillman, took his bow from the ground and ran up to Inúr. He fired four arrows during his sprint. She was too important for him and the realm of the Dark Elves to have her end as food for trolls.
The rain had already softened the string of the bow and the power with which the arrows impacted had lessened. So they only brought three trolls death, the other was only wounded. The shot troll turned around and ran against the Dark Elves, who let the bow fall again and drew his swords.
»Wind of the East!«, he called loudly against the sky. »Grant me the power that I require to overcome this despicable scum!« He engaged the assailant.
It was an easy thing to Cadhalor to evade the deadly, but slow attacks of his foe and to slit open the thighs of the trolls with quick, long swipes.Roaring the beast fell down and Cadhalor turned to his last enemy who still held Inúr in his grasp and made no move to let her down.
»Be ready, my divine lord!«, Kajara suddenly called and jumped death-defying at the back of the troll. She held the sword that had belonged to the barbarian and aimed for the broad neck.
But the monster had heard her, threw Inúr to the ground and caught the attacker in her flight. Right infront of him, he tossed her into the mire.
That deed will not save you from death, flesh-thief. Cadhalor had taken his chance and circled around the troll. First this beast, then you. He cut the sinews of the knees, so that it fell down and then stung into both kidneys of the monster. With a growl it rose up, fell unto its back and lay still. Quickly, Cadhalor had evaded the enemy and jumped unto the corpse to gain a better sight on the surroundings.
»Milord?«, Inúr called helpless and felt around her in the mire. Her clothes were left tattered and torn, everywhere she was covered in tough dirt, also in the face. »What has occurred? Are those trolls?«
»Quiet«, he said shortly and turned steadily to keep the thicket in his sight. »Be still, Inúr. It could be ...«
Five hillmen stormed out of the forest, covered the animal pelts. They encircled Cadhalor, Inúr and Kajara, who got up groaning and took the sword into her hand. She spewed out mire and looked about.
Another half a dozen hillmen appeared, clad in armor and armed with curved sword and spears. One of them, a strongly built exemplar wore a red sash around his middle with a rune on its. The leader! It could be enough if Cadhalor was eliminating him.
Cadhalor's knees got soft for a short, terrible moment. The poison showed him what it was capable of. Not the best setting for another fight against multiple enemies.
Inúr was crawling back, against the corpse of the troll. »Milord, give me a weapon so that I can defend myself.«
»Be quiet!« He saw that the Obbôna was slowly heading for his back and attempted to climb on the troll pedestal. Cadhalor was more or less forced to accept her aid in the upcoming battle. »I have decided that I have forgiven you and will grant you a second chance to gain my trust«, he lied and sounded convincing. »Come here, Obbôna«, he ordered. »Next to me.«
»Yes, my divine lord«, she said frivolous and climbed up the corpse. She was a despicable sight with her burned skin, from the tearing wounds flew dim liquid and blood.
»What is the meaning of these strange hillmen? They seem different.« Cadhalor pointed at the red, embroidered sash and estimated their numbers to have grown to nigh seventy men. They all wore armor, head protection and different sorts of weapons. »The rune looks like as if they tried to imitate my people.«
The Obbôna was about to answer, as the hillman with the red sash gave a barking order. Instantly, all men around them sank to their knees and bowed their heads. »Finally we have found you, half-god«, the leader croaked and looked proudly at him.
Cadhalor repressed the upcoming relief that came with a great amount of perplexion that they could speak the common tongue. Apparently, the Dark Elves were worshipped by this tribe of Man.
The quick motion next to him he did make out from the corner of his sight, but the fist was already too close. He pulled back the head, the strike hit his chin.
Wheels of fire appeared before his eyes, at the same time a dark curtain fell down on him; his limbs became heavy as steel. Still in his evasive step, he got a kick to the stomach that robbed him of all air in his lungs. He managed to dive beneath the next strike, but against the last to his neck, he was powerless.
Before the boots of the Obbôna he fell down. His consciousness began to fade away.
Cadhalor saw Kajara coming towards him, she smiled and seemed to apologize. Exactly he did not hear her words. Inúr called his name from a far distance and he wondered how she would dare after his rebuke. He was her master!
The Obbôna became lost to the dark that slowly overwhelmed him. His last deed was to stab after her as she dared to come closer. He perceived her scream and drifted out.
