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Fate's Winter.
Death in the wind,
sowing lost trust
to bring betrayal.
Slanderous tongues sang,
the song of false charge
and were yet heard,
and it obliged.
Obliging however demands
tribute from everyone
Seen, heard, Loss
of conviction and foothold.
The hardest time is the one,
where one is alone
and not want to be alone.
Solitude becomes recognition.
Recognition becomes action.
And those who act become heroes.
Fate's Winter.
- Viraïgon,
Dark Elvish Master of Picture and Word
North of Middle-Earth, North of the realm of the Kraggash, Late Third Age
With the cover of the night they hurried towards the towers.
Cadhalor noticed that it was completely still about them. No insects, no other animals. The forest had lived, owls and wolves had called out their songs, but as soon as they sat foot unto the plain, the voices were left behind. The towers did not have a good presence.
Kajara walked in front of them knowing that she would receive an arrow or a spear to her neck, if she even tried herself to betrayal. She was heading straight for the mentioned forth tower and almost did not cause any sound. Paling in comparison to the silent Dark Elves, but still more quiet than many other creatures.
Cadhalor cursed the Kraggash. Orc-kind. Nothing in their brains and even letting themselves get robbed. He did not yet feel any signs of the starting effect of the poison that Munugash had dealt to them.
»Here«, Kajara said and stopped in front of a mighty column. »It was here.« She sought with both hands over the smooth stone surface.
Cadhalor observed her, Thangrineth the surrounding. The Obbôna was moving fluently and far too excessive to pass as a woman of the Elves. Simple beasts she could maybe fool, but any somewhat logical thinking being would perceive that she was nothing but a sad distortion, a mere counterfeit of true perfection.
Kajara's hands halted, then opened below her fingers a small flap with an iron ring within. She pulled it and a hatch swung open. It was just broad enough that an Elf or a very slim Man could crawl through. A perfect trap.
But the Obbôna did not hesitate and disappeared in the darkness. »Come, divine lord and lady«, she said luring
»You first«, Thangrineth said with a smile and bowed. »The blessing of the Conclave will ward you from ambushes.«
»You are false in your thinking: The blessing makes me more valuable«, he replied. »Hence nothing should happen to me if the Obbôna is trying to trick us.«
»Following your words, the blessing itself would then be of no worth?«, Thangrineth answered in faked friendliness. »That will sadden the Conclave.«
Cadhalor did no longer regard her, stowed away the bow and made his way to follow Kajara.
He dove into blackness that was cold and smelling of rock, iron and oil. He looked around, listened and wedged his way through the small entrance; doing so he had to be careful not to become stuck. In the end he came upon a upright tunnel. His foot was seemingly levitating over an abyss; warm gusts of air came up from below and played with his hair.
»Careful!«, he heard Kajara above him. The warning came quite late. »In front of you are chains with counterweights, my divine lord. Stretch your arm and grasp them. Caution though, they are slippery and freshly oiled.«
Cadhalor did as she said. The chain links were enormous, half as tall as he was and he wondered in what kind of forge one would craft them. They would surely reach till far below the earth, to the weights with which one could lower and raise the lift. The Galran Unuk had to have either unbelievable abilities or he was a very creative and clever creature.
The ascend began. Step for step upwards, his legs and arms became tired at some point, and Cadhalor concentrated on every single motion, but not on the increasing pain in his muscles. One hundred times, two hundred times, three-hundred times, ever the same motions and grips did not want to end. His finger-tips tingled. He did not know the feeling; Apparently the poison was effecting him, was heralding worse to come with its first appearance. Again he was disdained that the goblins had captured them and forced them to this quest.
The Obbôna stopped. »We are here.« Something clicked again, then another hatch opened in the wall above them through which fell a weak blue light.
»If she closes the hatch now«, Thangrineth said close behind him, »and sounds the alarm ...«
»She could have done so earlier«, Cadhalor interrupted her.
»Does this comment serve your own reassurance or is your vigilance ceasing?«, Thangrineth scoffed. »Perhaps a small army awaits us up there to take us captive and the Blessed One walks straight into them like a ...«
Kajara's face appeared above them. »Divine lord and lady, where are you?«, she whispered agitated. »Be quick!«
Cadhalor would have loved to grant his opponent a kick that would have her fly towards the bottom. He looked down. Thangrineth was smart enough to keep sufficient distance between her and his boots. »Forward!«
One after the other overcame the remaining steps and came to stand in a hall-way next to the Obbôna. The blue glowing light was radiating from a sort of moss that was growing behind glass in certain intervals on the wall. Cadhalor had seen it before, long ago in Beleriand. It served brilliantly to exchange against torches and lamps, the air was unspent and did not burn in one's eyes.
He looked down at himself and noticed that his clothes and the armor were covered by black oil that was coming from the chains. They would have to be aware of preventing any revealing footprints.
The hatch was within in a large room in which the chains continued, were led by a winch to the right and was then disappearing in the wall. Cadhalor estimated that it would lead to one of the lifts.
»You first«, he said to Thangrineth and pointed at the stairs that led upwards. »If I fall through the oil, I do not wish to bring you to fall, as well.«
»Do not worry, I will dodge quick enough and watch how you break your bones«, his adversary replied friendly. »After you, Blessed One.«
The high, broad hall-way branched out to the right, to the left and the staircase rose up ten steps upwards before it ended in front of a door. The light in that part of the forth tower originated from enormous petroleum lamps that hung on long ropes from the ceiling and whose illumination was enhanced by a cap formed mirror. They swung slightly back and forth, as if they would attempt to soothe the visitors into sleep with their steady motions.
Cadhalor could only hear Kajara's breath. At least they were alone and save from being discovered. »Let us look for someone to ask where we can find the Galran Unuk«, he made known and Thangrineth nodded approvingly. »Where do we find a servant?«
The Obbôna bowed and decided for the right path of the hall-way. Of course did her feet leave the same black marks on the floor like those of the Dark Elves. The art of absolute silence was as such of no use them.
Cadhalor moved Kajara to hurry. Annoyed they moved forwards; the men of this fortress would probably expect intruders here.
He was still surprised that there had been no traps in the shaft. It was going by far too simple until now. Surely the Galran Unuk must have taken precautions of escaping prisoners and established defenses against possible betrayal. Something was not right.
Thangrineth and he did perceive the melodic humming and the rhythmic rattling that was closing in on them, at the same time.
»Into the niche with you«, he ordered the flesh-thief and went forwards to see who was coming. Thangrineth watched the Obbôna.
Cadhalor send his powers like a dark veil around the wicks to weaken the light about him and to enfold himself into shadow. Silently he drew his dagger.
A Man was striding into his direction and he hummed a song. He was still young. On his body he wore a frock made of spun flax, a set of keys hung on the girdle around his middle and struck in frequent intervals against the thigh. He saw no weapons.
The young man became slower and gazed irritated at the dark spot of the hall-way that lay before him. Then he looked at the lamps and the petroleum within and frowned. He sensed that there was something wrong.
Cadhalor increased the darkness, let the shadows scurry right and left past the man and brought him into the darkness. Somberness seeped through his skin and the fear struck him wordless and constrained.
Now the Dark Elf came forth from his cover and prowled towards him like a predator. The blackness played around Cadhalor, fell as pearls from him like ink, as he reduced the power to show himself to the man. »Death greets you, mortal«, he whispered. »It is up to you, whether he will stride past you or strike. Did you understand?«
The young servant nodded his head with wide-open eyes.
»We are looking for you master, the Galran Unuk to make him personally known of our presence. Where do we find him?« Cadhalor raised the knife, the tip was aiming for the left eye.
»I allow you to speak. Should you come to the thought of screaming, it will have been the last you ever uttered.« Then he took some of the boundless fear off him.
The man stood still, starred at him. He still suffered of the terrible horror, but suddenly the expression on his face changed. He looked past Cadhalor, where the Obbôna and Thangrineth stood, and out of fear became hate.
»Traitor«, he hissed. The entirety of his teeth were foul, his stinking breath was rolling like a blight against Cadhalor. The Dark Elf would have loved to fill the unwashed maw with boiling silver in order to seal it.
Kajara grinned and crossed the arms before her chest. »I told you that I would return to get my revenge.«
Thangrineth delivered instantly a strike of her fist against the Obbôna's cheek who was forced to kneel on the ground.
The man laughed with glee. »It doesn't seem as if these would be your friends, Kajara. Where might be that army with which you wanted to return?«
Cadhalor let him taste fear again. The tip of the dagger danced in front of the face of the servant and left four flat, slim cuts around the eyes. »Beware!«, he said threatening without getting louder. »If I hear no answer on my question, so will your tallowy skin hang from your skull. With such, I will let the Obbôna strangle you. Is that the kind of death you wish for?«
The man became immediately submissive of fear. »The Galran Unuk is resting. But you will never reach him. His guards ...«
»Where is the vault?«, Thangrineth interrupted him and earned an evil glare from Cadhalor. »We are seeking the crown of the Kraggash and a parchment that he stole from them.«
Now their captive looked very startled. »You are in service to the poison-brewers?«
Thangrineth lowered her eyes to the floor and send out fear now as well, though not as finely dosed, but as brutal as a wave that strikes against a tower of strength and shatters roaring on it. The effect on the man was tremendous: He pressed his hand against his forehead, the other against the chest, then he sunk unto his knees, gasped for breath and whimpered.
Cadhalor foresaw that the barbarian would not make it very long.
»So you know what we seek and where we find it«, Thangrineth breathed, and the whispering made her more dangerous than if she would have shouted. »I hold your coward heart and your preposterous mind in my hands, scum. Show me, where we will find the crown and the parchment. And remember: One thought of me brings death.«
»To the left!«, the man called horrified. »You must enter the sixth tower. Quick!«
Cadhalor had intended to reprimand his companion, but her move had been cunning enough to save her from the correction. Now they had a barbarian who would bring them surely to their target. He looked at Kajara and waved her over. »Make sure, that he does not fool us.«
The Obbôna bowed and he could see that she was disappointed. The distrust towards her struck her. He however was finding it ridiculous that this creature truly believed that someone would turn his back on her.
Now it went quite swiftly through the hall-ways, tunnels and passages of the towers. Their captive led them swiftly, without hesitating a moment, and Kajara kept nodding in silent approval of the direction. They only had to dodge a few times to avoid running into other inhabitants.
Cadhalor asked suddenly: »You called her traitor. Was she not a slave of the Galran Unuk, or was she charged with higher tasks?«
The man spit unto the floor. »She was overseeing the work of the servants the Galran Unuk employs, before she stole from our master and should have been executed for doing so. She ran away and we thought she would have fallen to her death with a coward jump from the tower.«
»You should have looked for the corpse«, Cadhalor said. Barbarians!
Their prisoner pointed at a path that was branching out and was a lot slimmer than the others. »Down there.« It led into a chamber where the most important treasures were kept.
Thangrineth gave him a push that hurled him into the tunnel, then she nodded at the Obbôna. »Cadhalor goes first, I will keep watch on these two.« She grinned. »The Blessed One grants us luck when he walks head on.«
Cadhalor did her the favor, took arrow and bow into his hands and scurried along the walls of the tunnel. Around him, he weakened the flames of the lamps hanging from the ceiling, so that he would remain unseen in the garment of the shadows.
After twenty-eight steps, the hall-way described a curve, and he perceived dark voices of six or seven creatures: Barbarians and something else certainly despicable.
He refrained from dousing the lamps for now and spied around the corner. His sense of hearing had not tricked him. Five members of the race of Man and two beings that seemed to be distant relatives of Orcs had taken their posts in front an three steps high, iron door. Half-Orcs? They stood in an arrow formation, the tip formed by the thinnest of the men, who carried a quite similar device to that Cadhalor had seen the Kraggash use.
Cadhalor estimated that this group made up the vault's defenders. The wardens were garbed in studded leather armor, wore helmets, arm- and leg protection as well as heavy chain-mail gloves. Swords, two heavy maces and axes were their weapons. They talked quietly with one another, it was about the planned construction of a seventh tower.
Cadhalor calculated roughly whether he could take on all of them by himself. They stood angular behind each other and were hence well aligned for an archer. If he shot them through the thin visors, he could kill two enemies with just one arrow. But by no later than the second shot they would move and become multiple targets.
His mind advised him to get Thangrineth just in case. But his pride demanded to do the deed without help. He wanted to prove his arrogant companion that she was not the only one who knew how to fight. He was the blessed one and that by all rights! If he was quick enough, he could even get into the vault alone and take the stolen items into his possession. The first quest he would have hence mastered all by himself. And he would have delivered Thangrineth another of many more humiliations.
Cadhalor adjusted the quiver, drew three arrows. One he laid upon the string, the other two he held with his mouth. Such he could pull the thin string only to the height of the shoulder of the arm that held the bow, but the force was sufficient on this short distance. In exchange he could fire much quicker.
He stepped around the corner, fired the first arrow, took the second from his mouth and pulled back the string, fired again and saw satisfied how the four men to his left fell deadly struck. With the third arrow he would be able to undo the frontmost two enemies, but then the other remaining guards would awake from their stasis.
The thin man grasped after a whistle, and the two Half-Orcs raised their axes and charged against him. The distance to him was not more than seven steps.
They could not have done something more stupid.
That gave Cadhalor the opportunity to send the next arrow against the whistle-holder, before he could summon a single tone. Just as he squeezed the mouthpiece between his lips and took in deeply breath, the arrow struck him. The tip punched through tin, pushed it out of the finger's grasp, shattered the teeth and disappeared in the maw. The man sunk gargling backwards to the floor.
Shortly before the Half-Orcs had reached him, Cadhalor spread darkness to all sides and extinguished the lamps. Swiftly he duck below the attacks.
He felt the air being cut by the axes, heard the rushing as they hit void instead of him.
Cadhalor let go off the bow, drew an arrow, hearkened for the duration of an eye blink for the noises of his enemies and orientated himself. He did not need to see them. Then he leapt up and stung several times in quick succession. He met soft tissue and the gargling that followed proved that he had hit the unprotected throat. Warm liquid splashed against him. Gargling and gasping the first foe went down.
The other Half-Orc swung his weapon based on pure luck only and drove it deep into the body of his comrade. The Dark Elf drew with the other hand the dagger, at the same time he kicked, struck the helmet, judging the clashing and heard his enemy groan.
The sound led him to his victim.
Cadhalor performed a scythe-like strike. With a tearing noise did the blade sever enemy flesh. He instantly continued his assault, struck several times, right and left through the armor and even made the Half-Orc trip.
The falling one caught him by the arm, but was not to be held so easily! Cadhalor performed a quick turn along his shoulder and the crude fingers were gliding off of him. Finally, he drove the dagger's blade through the guard's neck.
After the muffled impact, everything was still.
Cadhalor breathed deeply in, exhaled and permitted the lights to become brighter. The black wisps retreated, some even dissolved. The shadows were leaving.
»I knew it«, he heard Thangrineth's voice in the same moment and saw her coming around the corner. »The extinguished lamps revealed to me what you were doing. The Blessed One just had to attack.«
He saved himself the answer and felt slight anger, that his intention to infiltrate the vault alone had failed. The bewildered amazement on the face of their prisoner and the delight of the Obbôna he took as compliment, even though he did not require it from them. »Open the door«, he said to the man and raised the blood-smeared hand with the knife, brought it to the height of his face. »One of your keys will do, I hope for you?«
The prisoner paled. »No, they don't. It is a mechanism, there is no key. Alone the Galran Unuk understands to open the door.« He licked over his dried lips and gazed at Cadhalor. »Please! I can surely be of help differently!«
Thangrineth shook her head. »You are telling us this now? You have intended to trick and delay us, to save your life.«
The barbarian fell to his knees. »Mercy!«
»Mercy shall be granted.« Despise stood written on Thangrineth's face. Cadhalor knew what would happen next. The slender spear-tip dove alike to a struck of lightning through the back of the man, touched with a faint chink the floor and retreated swiftly. »You die under little agony.«
Without a loud, the prisoner went limp. Quickly did Cadhalor turn him unto his back.
He and Thangrineth observed in fascination how the eyes changed, how the life was fleeing them and a blur laid itself upon them. The veil that death brought.
Cadhalor had heard many theories, why this veil was to be perceived by high and nether creatures. The exodus of the spirit, as the Race of Man said it would happen to them, it could not be. Orcs, Man and other monstrosities had no such thing as a soul or spirit. Did death make them all equal in the end? He wondered, whether his eyes would gain the same blur.
Thangrineth turned to Kajara, the tip of her weapon pointed at her middle. »You too knew of the mechanism to seal the vault, flesh-thief. Another time you will not deceive us.«
She threw herself down before them. »Divine lord and lady, I know how to open the door!«, she called out submissively.
Cadhalor, who wiped the blood off with the clothes of the dead barbarian, found it by now arduous to still be dealing with the Obbôna. »Do so, then!«, he barked at her. »We have no time left.«
She went over to the door, the Dark Elves followed and remained standing in a save distance.
Kajara touched seemingly carvings and gems and re-aligned them; at the same time something clicked, sometimes loud, sometimes quietly, then deep and then brightly. Her movements did not follow a pattern and yet the door swung back. Cadhalor estimated the thickness of the steel as broad as three hands were wide.
So her task was done and Thangrineth raised her spear to kill her.
»Wait«, Cadhalor whispered. »Who knows for what we might still need her.«
»Who knows when she will betray us«, she gave back as answer, but lowered the weapon.
»For you, divine lord and lady«, Kajara said and made space for them.
»Go ahead«, Thangrineth hissed and followed her. Cadhalor had been banished to the back. »Secure our back with your marksman's finesse, Blessed One«, she scoffed.
The room that lay behind the door was filled with shelves, on which stood unnumbered chests, crates and lockets. Each was equipped with a shield that displayed a rune of unknown origin to the Dark Elves. The smell of old leather and wood hung in the air, much like in a saddle chamber.
»He has listed everything in perfect order«, Kajara explained to them and turned in a circle; her eyes were sparkling. »Sadly, I do not understand his language.« She pointed at a corner. »But that chest was not where it is now, last I have been here.«
Cadhalor was certain that she must have tried to steal a lot. From the vault of these tremendous towers. He was warning himself not to underestimate the Obbôna until her death. Until her more than certain death, that he and Thangrineth would give her.
They went over to the chest, Kajara opened it after being ordered.
Within lay a crown whose lower inside width was very small and would fit perfectly unto the head of a goblin. It was made of gold, painted badly with thick color and on top, on the seven tips sat silver orbs that had been engraved. They seemed as if added after the making of the actual crown.
Cadhalor felt the aura of the token. He was not learned in the fabled arts of spell and song, not like the Conclave or the Light-Elves in the Uttermost West, but all Elves could feel such presence. It was similar to a tingle, like when a thunderstorm approached. Next to the crown lay a rolled up parchment with a broken seal.
Thangrineth took it, opened it. »Foolish goblin rubbish«, she said after a short look. »It reads to me like a receipt, only the amount of components make no sense.« She smiled and turned around to the Obbôna.
»They will have encrypted it.« Cadhalor looked over to the entrance of the vault. »Let us disappear. Our task is as good as done.«
Thangrineth granted Kajara a velvety and dangerous smile. »It is time that we finally thank you, flesh-thief. It may not be granted to me as I had wished it to be, but I promise that it will be very much out of the ordinary.« The tip of the spear was suddenly aimed at the height of her heart. She retreated one step, the horror made her face look even more disgusting.
Cadhalor, however, had discovered something: In the lower part of the parchment the ink had begun to disperse. It could not be read. It even looked as if someone had done so with full intention! »Look at that!«
Thangrineth clicked impatiently with her tongue. One could sense the joy of looking forward to be allowed to kill the Obbôna. Now. »What does it matter to us? Munugash demanded the parchment, he did mention its condition.«
»We need the antidote. Do you think he will yield it, if he sees the damage? He will accuse us to have turn it useless!« With that he seemed to have gotten his companion to think.
»I«, Kajara said unasked and pointed shyly at the lower lines of handwriting. »can decipher it.«
»You?« Cadhalor laughed at her. »You would say anything to escape. That we know.«
»No, my divine lord!«, she called and as well when she was addressing him, her voice acquired another sound to it. Pleading, desiring, begging. »I can make out the fine rills that the feather has left through its pressure on the parchment. I am renowned for my sharp eyes. I plead to you: Let me my life!«
Thangrineth sighed loudly. »I say: Away with her.«
»No. It is no harm to us, if we test her on her words on the next occasion.« Cadhalor looked down on the lying Kajara. He would have loved nothing better than to kill this creature, but she likely held his life and hence also the mission in her hands.
Thangrineth starred at him, then she said: »We will come to regret that. I feel it.« She looked around and found a leather bag in which she stored away crown and parchment.
A vial, embossed by silver and only as large as a finger that was protruding out of a small locket caught her attention. Within a white substance was quivering, like water against the glass. The inscription on the shield had been damaged, as if it had suffered a strike. One of the Tengwar symbols stood for »Power«. She felt the eerie aura that did not come from the crown.
Quickly, Thangrineth looked over to her companion. Unnoticed by Cadhalor, she grasped the vial and pushed it into a pocket on the inside of her garments. Possible that it could be of use. And it would remain her secret.
»Let us go«, Cadhalor ordered and walked up to the exit. »Now we only need ...«
A dwarf came striding into the room, the hands pleasantly crossed behind his back. A magnificent hauberk made of radiating white steel enfolded his muscular body, beneath he wore a padded, black surcoat. Around his forehead lay a broad, polished circlet made from the same precious metal, adorned with diamonds and rubies that were shimmering slightly in the light. What alone of jewelry and armor he wore had to cost a fortune. The hair was deeply black and trimmed short, long chops reached down to his chest, his furrowed face seemed almost friendly, at least curious, as he entered and regarded them.
»Galran Unuk«, Kajara whispered and fled between the shelves.
Thangrineth raised the spear. »He has good manners. To get his head, we need not seek him. And do not dare ...«
Cadhalor raised the bow and fired in quick succession two arrows after the Dwarf who was no usual member of his race at all. It was of no interest to him, whether Thangrineth wanted to battle the master of these towers. The openness with which the Galran Unuk met them, foretold of nothing good.
Their new adversary moved the arms from the back. In his hands he was wielding two short handled war hammers, whose heads had been adorned with silver and gold; Gems broke the light. He used the broad side of the hammers to raise them as protection in front of his face. He made perhaps two steps backwards as the projectiles hit the their hard surface and shattered, but he remained unharmed.
»Too slow«, he commented scoffing with a deep voice. »For an Elf.« At the same time, the door gave a rattling sound and swung shut.
Cadhalor aimed once more, but Thangrineth pushed herself into his field of fire. »You had your chance, lethargic blessed one, now let me mine«, she called and attacked the Galran Unuk, who crossed the handles before his chest and awaited the assault.
Cadhalor wondered. Either he did not know of the combat skills of the Dark Elves or he thought himself superior. »Obbôna! Open the door«, he ordered and send past Thangrineth's right hip another arrow that was again deflected. »By the winds!«, he cursed, let go off the bow, drew his short sword and dagger.
Kajara came out of the shadows and pressed herself in the near of the door against the shelves. She made over signs clear to Cadhalor that she was too afraid to slip past the Galran Unuk.
Thangrineth attacked the dwarven being with swift thrusts and strikes of the blunt end of the spear, which the Galran Unuk either evaded and parried under growling.
Cadhalor saw that she enjoyed the fight. She appeared in arduousness and concentrated, but she did not make the impression as if she was feeling insecure.
»Let me see how you will answer this!« Thangrineth laughed grimly and increased her fighting's aggression, combined spear attacks with kicks and attempted to unbalance her enemy with hits of her elbow. Three times did the white shining armor rescue the life of the Galran Unuk, the tip scratched several times over the engraved surface, without being able to penetrate it.
»Not as good as you thought of yourself, short-leg«, the Dark Elf maiden scoffed and pushed Cadhalor who had hurried to her aid, careless aside. »Away! That one is mine!«
There Thangrineth was struck by the hammer at the left upper leg.
The gems glowed up, a red haze radiated around the hammer's head and a flash temporarily blinded the Elves.
Thangrineth was hurled backwards and suffered a black, burned imprint on the leg protection of her armor.
The Galran Unuk laughed loudly with a well-deep voice. »Where is it you want to go, Dark Knife-ear? I just started.« He threw up a hammer, let it rotate once, caught it and brought it to swing forth and back. »Kajara! Where are you? I would have thought you to be smarter.« He winked amused at Cadhalor. »And you two, as well.«
Without hesitation he attacked the Dark Elf.
