A deathly laughter was heard from the beach and the man ran towards it as quietly as he could. He was dressed in black, with black hair and an average height, he wore a black cloak and a black hood to conceal himself in the dark. It was still a long distance to the beach and the light of the moon would betray his presence if he’d move further, so he chose to remain where he was, waiting for the right moment to get near or find another way to listen.
In front of him and near the water stood four men, two dressed like the tomb robbers that lurk in the ruins of Evendim. The other two were dressed in burgundy cloaks, red like blood, keeping their features hidden under their hoods. The man narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in an attempt to hear something when a hand grabbed him from behind. It covered his mouth to prevent him from shouting and the other hand grabbed his sword from his back and threw it some paces away. The black cloaked man tried to elbow his attack but without success, the man’s grip was too strong, he pulled him away from the spot and into the trees, always holding him tightly.
Soon the man couldn’t see the others on the beach, but he struggled to get released from his attacker. All he could see was a burgundy cloth around the hand that gagged and now choked him, another hit of the elbow was tried, this time it found its target, yet it wasn’t that strong. The man that held him only tightened his grip around him as his left hand reached for the dagger on his belt and lifted it close to his neck. He only felt it slashing his neck and then he fell back, on the hard ground and his eyes turned up. The only thing he could see now was the grin on his assailant’s face as he looked at him happily, enjoying the kill, he saw his lips moving and heard a voice like a serpent’s “Angmar is rising!” and life escaped him.
In the morning a hawk flew over the lake, after flying along the line of the beach it started circling over a specific spot. Amrath, its owner ran towards the hawk only to find the dead body of his friend. “Tordan!” he shouted when he saw the body, Amrath knelt near him and looked for clues as to what happened. His eyes moved along the red line on Tordan’s neck and he picked up his hands where he saw some red threads, the dead man was holding on to something it seemed to him. He tried to determine how the wound was made, shaking his head at the pool of blood that now dried on the dirt. Eventually he stood up and took his dead friend’s sword and followed the track that he made by being pulled, it lead a little further from the beach. There Amrath found four different tracks, two were the robbers’ tracks and the two he couldn’t determine whose they were, but they were similar to the tracks near Tordan’s body.
He whistled for his horse and lifted his friend’s body on it, to carry it back to the camp; he knew what he had to do now. The tomb robbers had the answers and he had to know…
