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Do you believe
that Death has a voice?
A form?
A weapon to take lives?
I believe
that Death has none of them.
He is in all and everyone.
From the dagger
that opens your veins,
to the bread crumb
stuck in your throat.
- Viraïgon,
Dark Elvish Master of Picture and Word
North of Middle-Earth, realm of the Kraggash, End of the Third Age
Cadhalor startled and rose up, his hand reached for the hilt of his sword - and grasped into nothingness.
He wore nothing on his body, as he saw in the faint shine of the lamp, not even undergarments. Next to him cowered Inúr, whom they had given a blanket. There were lines drawn on his slender, but muscular body. Cutting lines. The Obbôna seemed to intend to decorate herself with his skin.
He did not understand yet, what had happened.
»Milord«, Inúr called relieved. »Finally you have awoken.«
»What ...« He broke off in the middle of his sentence. She would not be able to tell him what had occurred.
»We were being carried through the forest«, she began her tale. »I do not need to see to perceive what is happening around me. The noises often suffice. The Obbôna and the man spoke in a tongue with one another that I could not understand, but it was obvious that they knew each other. It sounded as if she was giving those men orders.«
Cadhalor looked about the walls around them. They had likely lowered them through the hole in the ceiling. It was the only entry to the dungeon. »Where are we?«
»We marched for a long time, until we reached a settlement«, she reported and spoke clearly as if trying not to leave out any details. »If my ears did not perceive me, I would say that these barbarians conquered a farm and use it as their encampment. They brought us into a barn, judging the smell and then lowered us with ropes into this hole.«
Cadhalor touched the walls. He knocked against them, without seriously hoping to find a hollow room behind them. Cold, massive. »Has the flesh-thief spoken of what she wants?«
»She said I should tell you that her assault on you, her divine lord, she regrets, but she would have seen no other way to protect you from harm.« Inúr spoke with disgust and reluctance. »She will soon visit you and you are supposed to think of a good way of how to thank her.«
»Thank her?«
»That she spared your life, milord.«
Cadhalor laughed up. »I am so grateful to her that I will relieve her of her unworthy life.« He saw the Obbôna before him; in his current situation he would have even been inclined to strangle her with his bare hands. »Do you know what happened to my steed?«
»It did not go with us. It either died in the forest during the fight or fled«, she replied and sighed. »I am desperate, milord. What can we do?«
The Dark Elf had asked himself that exact question five heartbeats earlier and came only to the conclusion: nothing. »We wait. I see no possibility to escape this jail.« He sought the ground, as if there was something that he could use as weapon. More than a finger-long, sharp stone splinter he did not find. But it could be used to tear skin and veins. So he did no longer need to strangle the Obbôna but could kill her in surprise when the chance arose.
He sat down next to the slave, played with the stone. »So she is their leader. Maybe she wanted to storm the fortress with her allies and worked as spy amidst the ranks of the Galran Unuk«, he thought aloud. »During her escape and on the way back to these barbarians she was caught by the trolls. We freed her and she played along as she knew that her servants would sooner or later find her.«
»May I speak, milord?«
He reminded himself that he wanted to be friendlier to her to win her trust. His reason were politics. He still believed to reach his home alive. With her. »Yes. Let me know what your opinion is.«
»It is sound and clear what you say.« Inúr shuddered. »I think there are one hundred and more able men out there. I only know these savage tribes from the north from stories. I never encountered them during the time among my own people and I never saw one of their likes in the city of your folk. They carry weapons and armor, milord?«
»That they do.« Cadhalor looked at the mortal woman. She was desperate, without question, but she did not loose her sharp mind and ability to combine facts.
Without that he wanted it, his eyes were gazing her up and down. Her flesh was covered with dirt but indeed flawless, the bones of fine growth. He could craft something outstanding out of them after her death. Canvas from her skin, the long black hair could be used to tie something, what Enoïla, his wife was very good at. The bones themselves would be more honored; he imagined a small set of figurines or something abstract that he could fit into his garden.
He noticed that he had looked at her for long. Longer than he would usually need to receive inspiration for one of his pieces. He listened to his mind. Was there more than the mere interest of an artist?
Cadhalor had to laugh of disbelief. She was a mortal woman, beautiful and graceful, with elvish features, but far, far away from his kind, not to say able to compare to his wife.
»Milord, why are you laughing?«
»I had an abstruse thought.« What else should have invoked his interest other than the refining of her body into art? He would not lower himself on the level to deal like that with a mortal woman. He had no reason to do so. Cadhalor blamed his confusion on the poison of the Kraggash. Another problem that tired him.
»Then there are seemingly different kinds of savage tribes. Clever and less clever ones. Why do they follow the Obbôna?« It seemed to amuse Inúr to find a solution to those many questions that were intertwined with their captivity. »They were smithing«, she said suddenly, as if she would just remember it.
»What do you mean smithing?« He granted her that. Should she crack her head over these riddles, although he doubted that something of use would be produced. On the other hand, she was not alike to other barbarians.
»I think they make weapons from steel, milord«, she explained and held the head up and directed forward. »It is a unique sound that I know. Long ago when I visited many cities of my people I heard it first. Swords make their own sounds when they are forged.«
Cadhalor was certain that she had imagined that, but did not say anything. He found it logical that these men would need weapons: They were bravely invading the territory of the Kraggash - or should one say: foolishly? A discovery had to be prevented by all costs, for their armor was useless against the poison of the goblins. There was no hauberk that could stop an arrow of the likes that the Kraggash used, as strange as it might sound. So everyone they met had to die. And for that they required arms.
His thoughts reminded Cadhalor in an unkind manner of what was running through his veins and made his life ending. That was what he got now from listening to the words of the slave.
»Rest«, he ordered her to tell her in a friendly manner that she was to be still.
Above them something rumbled, the hole was opened and light fell in. A broad basket came down and the growled »In there!« could not be misunderstood.
Cadhalor decided to play along. He stepped into the basket. »You follow me«, he said to Inúr, there he was already pulled up.
He landed in a barn, as the slave had estimated, surrounded by twenty armed men who hailed him with drawn swords. They brought his slave up as well, then they were led over the yard into the main building. On their way, they passed a small pile of bones that was fitting cattle and goblins. There was no doubt how these savages cared for their provisions.
In the large room sat Kajara on a leather armchair, washed and the grotesque face covered mainly in bandages. She wore a wide black garment and the same rune as the men on the height of her right breast. Ten very tall, dangerous looking exemplars secured her flank and the back. The fireplace was lit, it smelled of fresh baked bread and cooked meat stew.
As Cadhalor - still relieved of all his clothes - entered, she stood up and bowed. »My divine lord!«, she said humble and filled with regret. The insanity in her eyes had not disappeared, to the contrary, as the Dark Elf found. Probably because she no longer had to hide in the presence of her servants. » I am ...«
Cadhalor showed them why the Dark Elves were feared. His powers did not forsake him, they came forth, suffocated the fire and spread terror in the room like a stinging, paralyzing scent. The light died and made the shadows threatening, alive. His eyes now darkened, were lit with wrath. »You are nothing, Obbôna«, he spoke deeply.
The savage men mumbled in shock, some retreated and yet held their ground.
Kajara rose up and withstood the darkness as well as the fear. »You delight us with the powers of your kind«, she purred. »Never before were we allowed to feel such might. My thanks for that, my divine lord.«
Cadhalor did not know what he should reply. The surprise not to cause havoc among the barbarians sat too deep. He formed his hands to fists, felt the sharp rock in his right and decided to wait. He retracted his powers.
»Now hearken into what you slipped, my divine lord.« She sat down. »My plan was since the very beginning to conquer the fortress of the Galran Unuk and to defeat him on his own turf. He killed too many of my servants and stole from us and should be punished for it. I worked for him in his bulwark and was on my way to escape when I got into the hands of the trolls.« Her tale was covering Cadhalor's own assumptions. »I had to put up an act until my people would find me«, she said finally and beamed again in her mindless and at the same time obsessed manner. »Forgive me the strike against your holy body. I had to disable you, my divine lord, as I could not let it happen that you kill my servants and pull their grievance upon you.« She performed a gesture with her arm. »A small gathering of the obedient army that is mine and against which the Galran Unuk would have been without a chance.«
»Give me the parchment and let me and the slave go«, he demanded with stress in his voice. »We have nothing to do with each other.«
»What will you do afterwards, my divine lord?«, she asked prowling. »What will happen once you brought Munugash what he wanted? I heard something about a mission. It is about more than just your life. Can I assist you?«
»The parchment«, he said. »In this instant, flesh-thief!« He let his gaze wander haughtily over the men. »They will not be able to hold me back.« He sounded threatening and self-certain to impress them.
Kajara's eyes acquired a greedy shimmer. »You have seen the lines on your divine body? I have drawn them for what else I could do with you, my divine lord«, she said savoring. She wrapped her arms around herself, rocked her torso forth and back. »I would dress myself with you and would be connected with you forever«, she whispered. »But you would most likely be dead if you no longer had skin. But I want to have you at my side! At day and especially at night!«, it broke out of her in insane desire. »As rulers over the new generations of Man.«
Cadhalor laughed her ringing down.
»I speak the truth!«, she screamed at him and stood up abruptly. »My divine lord, I leave you the choice: Stay with me and conquer the realm of the Kraggash and every other land that you would like. If it has to be, I take the tower of the Conclave for you!«, she was raving before him, as if there was at all a chance that these creatures would reach the first bridge of the Dark Elvish defenses. »Or say nay and you gain neither the parchment, nor the antidote nor your freedom. My servants will follow you as long as it needs for you to die from the poison and then I will take your skin and turn myself into a perfect elvish maiden!« She seated herself and glared at him angrily.
But of course! Cadhalor estimated that the power of the mindless Obbôna was resting on the fact that these men have held her so far for an Elf. The burns and bandages had saved her from being discovered as imposter. A real Elf on her side would make these men more obedient than ever before. At the same time the certainty grew in him that Kajara would make her threats become true. Again he felt the pressure in his chest that reminded him of the poison and also his right arm felt powerless. It was once more time for a lie to evade this situation, although he would liked to strike death and havoc among these men.
Cadhalor acted as if his anger would vanish. »You would heave me on the spot of the Conclave?«, he asked luring and feigned interest. It did cost him some effort to masquerade his wrath.
»Yes, I would«, she answered in an instant.
»You have guessed my most secret wish! You would raise me to true divinity«, he said and sounded intentionally impressed. »But the walls and the army - how would you defeat all this?«
»My love to you, my divine lord would lead me and grant me the knowledge«, she answered in obvious delight. »There is nothing I would not do for you.«
»Then I will give you the promise«, he said in a ceremonious tone to not let any doubt erupt, »that after I finished my mission I will return to you and stand at your side. By all that I love and value, I swear it. Our realm will be immense and many of my friends will follow me.«
»Yes!«, Kajara whispered in joy. »Yes, that it will be.« Her sick delusion let her believe his words.
»And together we stand on the tower, up on the highest point and show our children what we will grant them one day when we are too weary to reign.«
»Children«, she said smiling.
»Imagine how they would look. Flawless. Beautiful. Living eternally.« His voice became softer, seducing like that of a lover.
The eyes of the Obbôna rested on him, she hung on his lips and hearkened to the next picture of the coming time. »I see them«, she sighed. »Will you love me?«
»Also that I swear.« He had planted the image of a splendid future together into her mind and won her with his words. Now Cadhalor had to do a little more to be allowed to move about without that she would want to follow. »But understand that I can neither speak to you or your men of the mission nor that I can take you with me. Munugash would see us coming and he would flee and I would die from the poison. Or he would instantly defeat your army with his trickery. We require the strength of the mind against him and not that of steel.«
Inúr inhaled loudly but did not utter a word.
The Obbôna drew a grimace, sat down, leaned back into her chair and thought about his words. He saw that she was torn in her inner. A complete victory - namely his unrestricted commitment - she could not achieve, but neither had he denied her what she longed for, but merely postponed it into the coming future. »I understand. But your word, my divine lord? What is it worth?«
»It is the word of a divine being!«, Inúr hurled against her resentfully. »You should honor him instead of denouncing him as if he would be lesser creature.«
Cadhalor ordered her to be silent.
Kajara nodded at her. »The brave little slave who is protecting her master. How cute.« She laughed and became instantly serious. »But you are right, slave. I have committed an iniquity.« She stood up. »You gave your word and your oath, my divine lord, and so I will let you go. Return quickly and I will soon lay down the heads of the Conclave to your feet. But know that I will find you anywhere in case that you cannot take the way that leads to me.« She pointed with her right hand at him. »And if I realize that you betrayed me then my revenge will be terrible. I will not even spare a divine being.«
»So it shall be«, he inclined lightly and relieved. »I return once I have completed my task.«
She clapped her hands and a man stepped forward. He held the dried clothes, the armor and all weapons on his arms and laid them down before the Dark Elf; another brought simple clothes for Inúr.
Kajara walked over to the fireplace and held the poker into the flames, pressed it down into the coals. »One more thing I would like to give you on your way, my divine lord. We will reign as equally strong over the lands. Equal of beauty and equal of wounds.« She pulled the glowing end out and came up towards Cadhalor. The Dark Elf was grabbed by two men and held in place. »You granted me a burn mark with the hoof of your steed and so I will return it. Take this as reminder of your oath.« She burned her rune on his skin.
He pressed the teeth together and withstood the pain. The smoke of burned flesh rose to his nose.
Satisfied she looked at her work. »Now you can dress and hurry, my divine lord.«
Cadhalor felt the finger-long, sharp rock in his hand. A part of him - his pride - demanded of him to throw himself on the Obbôna to slit her throat open. She had marked him like cattle, like a slave, like a criminal! The insane words about him as divine lord were nonsense. It was all about her and her mad thoughts. He would certainly return to her, when the time came, and he would let her die painfully. Ultimately. Your death is Cadhalor. He swore this by his spirit.
Then he began to dress. Before their eyes he put on his armor, pulled the girdles tight. In the meanwhile, did Kajara call for the parchment and finished the work on it. »What happened to my steed?«
»It most likely strides around the woods and looks for you, my divine lord. I will order that horses be brought to you. These men are no good riders but rather well on foot.« She bowed deeply before him, a servant handed him the parchment. »I bless the day on which you return.«
Cadhalor simply turned around, laid a slave band around Inúr's neck and marched out the door.
His hate upon the Obbôna was so tremendous that his eyes darkened like a starless night and his face seemed nigh to splinter like a mirror. Even after several miles his wrath had not worn off.
