Gwyndolith struggled to turn her gaze to her daughter "I might have failed to rescue you... But I never sold you... By... The time I escaped... I hadn't seen either... Of you... For more than half a year."
The woman snorted. "Even now, you can do nothing but lie to yourself. You are truly pathetic." From somewhere close at hand, a long, angry howl echoes through the tend and the woman smiles. "Oh how lovely, my brother heard my offer of fresh meat...your son comes to devour your lover. It will be such a touching reunion.....MOTHER."
The scorn and hatred Lominzil poured into the word Mother made Gwyn’s heart feel as if it would stop again.
Lominzil moved the burning brand away from Dar, taking a moment to admire the charred burn it left on his skin. "He is regaining his strength, Mother...perhaps he will not let us down after all, I wish this to last a lonnnggg time.'
Gwyndolith curled up slowly. "I can't atone for a sin... I did not commit... Put the brand down child..."
Lominzil smiled again and snorted softly. "I have not been your child for many years, hag…but do not mistake me Mother. You cannot atone at all. This is not to grant you atonement, this is to punish you...and to amuse myself. I have paid dearly for this opportunity, and I shall not waste it.'
The robed woman turned her attention to Dar again, her silver eye flashing in the half-light. She replaced the brand in the coals so it would reheat. "Perhaps we shall force you into your proper form...and then skin you alive. I have always wished such a rug as that...perhaps I will bury Mother in it.'
Gwyndolith remained quiet, not having the strength for much, though her expression was one of cold anger as the flap of the tent was drawn aside by one of the guards. A wizened old woman stepped inside. She looked around in surprise and seemed a bit cross. "Lominzil...I had expected you to be further along than this by now...why do you linger?"
Lominzil bowed low. "I beg your forgiveness High Priestess, but as the Master expected, the bitch is resistant and stubborn and most of all, deeply self-deluded.'
The old woman nodded. "Then cease being gentle, my child. Make her understand this is the end.'
Dartanius turned his attention to the old woman but just as with his other captors he showed this new person no sign of his pain nor gave any satisfaction that they might be looking for. Other than occasionally struggling against the ropes that bound him he remained rather still.
Gwyndolith locked her eyes on the older woman as if marking a target "Huh... You'll actually let me die this time?" she asked with dark amusement.
The old woman turned and looked at Gwyn. "My, you really are quite unfathomably stupid, I am amazed you actually squeezed my Lominzil out of your worthless carcass. After all the lessons you have been given, do you still imagine that death is the end..of ANYTHING? Death will be your beginning....'
Lominzil bit her lip, finally saying quietly. "The Master says they cannot die yet. That I could do whatever I wished save that....'
Dartanius stopped struggling against his bonds, his gaze sweeping around the area as if feeling something else around them.
Gwyndolith glared daggers into the old woman "Go on then... Bring me back as a shade... Would've saved your people a lot of trouble if you had done it before."
The old woman shook her head. "That is not to be your fate, slattern...you are required as....'
Suddenly the tent flap is pulled aside roughly aside, the guards having been hurled back and a man strides in, bald and red robed and clearly enraged. "What goes on here...what game is Desad playing now?'
The old woman bowed her head and dropped to one knee, her tone suddenly aged and feeble. "Hail my lord Erach...you would have to ask the Deacon of the Last Breathe...the child only obeys his will.'
Erach scowled. "The Deacons orders were clean Drasia....the risk he is running is stupidly extreme and not sanctioned by the Lady Aganalu nor the Infernus. He thinks much too highly of himself...and his creatures.' It was clear from the dangerous look in his eye he considered Drasia ALSO one of Desad’s creatures.
The tent opened again, the guards having fled soon after Erach had entered…and standing there looking smug was Desad himself. He stood some few inches taller than his superior Erach, and had the robust appearance of a veteren warrior, unlike Erach’s necromancer’s pall. "Hail my lord Erach, High Priest of the Unsealed and Lord of the Dark River....so kind of you to call upon me in the middle of my work day. If you had told me of your plans I could have arranged luncheon.'
In the suddenly awkward situation, Dartanius took a moment to struggle against the ropes which he noticeed he had more flexibility due to the heat of the fire he dangled over. He was careful to hide this discovery from his captors waiting for the right moment to take advantage of it.
Erach glared at the new arrival, his bald pate reflecting the torchlight. "Your clever creatures have gone too far now, the will of Aganalu is simple. These games go against the will of the Tribute Infernus and I will put an end to them now...'
Desad smiled. “Creatures? Such a dismissive term my Lord. I prefer to call them my “Children”. If my Lord of the Dark River calls them “creatures” they are likely to feel that you don’t like them, and that could be….hazardous. By the way, have you met Neluben?" Desad stepped to one side as perhaps the largest warg either Gwyn or Dar had ever seen bounded through the tend and went for Erach's throat. “You see, you have made him feel quite unloved…”
With a cry and a snarl Erach avoided the first bite but the creature was swift, drawing him down with its massive paws as he struggled to draw a blade. Erech rolled back and regained his feet, no more than a foot from Gwyn, his back to her as he caught his breath, holding a short blade in front of him defensively as he began to mutter, clearly preparing a spell.
Gwyndolith saw her opportunity and took it, launching herself at the man's legs aiming to bring him down. She slammed into him hard, not sweeping his legs but throwing his balance off just enough to cause him to topple backwards. As he scrambled back in the tight confines of the tent, the warg leaped.
Nebulen’s jaws closed on the archbishop’s throat. A single vicious bite and the beat then stepped back, its human eyes watching its prey with a sense of detached amusement. Erech gripped his throat, blood running down his chest. "Idiot..I shall discard this shell once it bleeds out and return before the day is gone with the full might of the Tribute Infernus and we will....." then his eyes grow wide...and he falls to his knees....the warg's human eyes glowing with a horrifying light.
"No....no......." whispered Erach in horror. “This…cannot be…how can you…?” and then he fell to the ground, stone dead. His body failed to fade, indicating that there would be no rebirth this time for the Necromancer.
In the unearthly silence that followed the death of the Necromancer, Gwyndolith sighed quietly "No escape route..." she paused looking at both the warg and her daughter "They've made monsters of my children... But... They are still mine."
Realizing this may be his only chance, Dartanius flexed quietly, shredding the smoldering ropes and dropping to his feet beside the fire. Despite the agony of his lost eye je focused animal-like on his goal, to protect Gwyn and get her out of here. He moved to her side as best he could, amazed to see that for the moment, the three living Angmarim seemed to have lost all interest in them.
Lominzil dropped to her knees putting her arms around the warg's throat as Drasia remained where she had been kneeling to Erach, now pivoting her attention to Desad, casually wiping steaks of Erach’s blood from her face. “Hail Desad, Deacon of the Last Breath and now Lord of the Dark River...now nothing can stand in your way as you rise to leadership of the Tribute Infernus, standing beside our Lady Aganalu as you rule all of Angmar, the Guilds united once more!"
Gwyn whispered to herself, “This does not sound good…” but a sound behind her distracted her and Dar both from the chilling scene. The soft sound of chewing and cursing and then of heavy cloth tearing.
Gwyndolith glanced behind her in exasperation "So... What new game is this?"
An oddly furry head would push through a newly torn gap in the tent..."Game? Nik no play game, but Stupid and Stupider better run for it before crazy lady turn both of ya into toads or somethin....Run run..move yer fat legs!!!.”
Gwyndolith blinked a little but saw no other options for the moment, so she grabbed Dar's hand and ran out of the tent dragging the wounded man with her. She looked back, obviously struggling with the idea of leaving her children like that again, but then rushed onward.
Dartanius allowed Gwyn to hold his hand as he struggled but managed to stay with her. Meanwhile the strange little beast scrambled up a rocky hill in front of them. The rocky landscape all around them seemed haggard and dry, as if all the life had been leeched out of the very soil.
Nik was grumbling to himself as he climbed. "I better get naked dancing hobbit girls for this...don’t even know why I followed...STUPID NIK to help Stupid and Stupider'
Gwyndolith glared at the odd little creature for a moment "Naked hobbit girls? Why do I get the feeling that elf has something to do with you... Lif? Was it?" She paused shaking her head "Alright... If you followed then do you know how we got here?"
The Kobold nodded..."Course I do Stupid....we got HEXED!'
Dar leaned against Gwyn, trying to move his head so that he could see more. "We should try and put some more distance between us and those we left behind."
The kobold nodded again. "Stupider is right...scamper scamper!!'
Dar looked confused. “Did whoever this is just call me Stupid?”
Gwyn shook her head and started after the little beast. “No, I’m Stupid. You’re Stupider. Try to keep up.” And so they continued to climb into the rocky hills.
-
Back in Fornost, or as Fornost had been on the day of its fall, Catalinna, Finchley, Nethrida and Xandilif, supporting the swooning Sableinna, would be struggling to get their bearings. The party of King Arvedui, along with his wife, young son and chief advisers had just arrived to inspect the battlements and bring hope to the people preparing for siege. The crowd along the ramparts seemed split between those shouting praise and those shouting curses at the King. Finchley just stood there and stared, expression hidden by her hood and mask. She made no sound and said nothing as Nethrida frowned a little, listening to the cacophony of sounds. "The mixed reaction is somewhat troubling..." she murmured to the others as best she could.
Catalinna watched the two “foreign” women who were the King’s advisors. The fairer one was clearly the woman they knew as Moyna, while the dark haired one bore a striking resemblance to Finchley. Catalinna stared at Moyna for a moment longer; her expression was calm though the hatred could be seen in her eyes
Xandilif looked around, trying to get her bearings still as the King approached carrying his young son, perhaps 4 or 5 years old. His wife followed close behind. His eye fell upon Xandilif and he raised his voice. "Hail, knight of the first born....have our Elven allies arrived at last?”
Finchley watched Moyna and the other woman's expression and then sort of stepped behind Lif, trying to not be seen. Both Cat and Neth were so focused on other things they would barely note the King spoke. Lif would stare back at the king, eyes wide. "Ummmmmm'
Finchley thought fast and poked Lif lightly in the side through her armor, whispering, "Just... tell 'em that you're an emissary come to say they're on the way still."
Xandilif wracked her brain trying to remember history lessons she had never really paid attention to, finally bowing low. When she spoke in formal tones her friends barely recognized her. "Hail Arvedui, King of Arthedain and son of Anarion...I bear herald of Lord Thadalion, Warleader of Rivendell. He sends tidings that his host has encountered resistance but hurries forth to your aid, despite this unseemly delay.”
A frightened grumbling rose as the people seemed unhappy with talk of delay, but the King however simply nodded. "I thank you herald, and what are you called?'
“I am Xandilif of Imladris, my lord.' Lif would seem almost in physical pain from the simple, courteous statement.
The King continued, apparently unaware of the elf’s discomfort. “By your garb I see you and the maidens in your retinue have just arrived, battered and dusty from a long road, do come and give me counsel of what occurs beyond my walls for the hour of battle comes swiftly.'
Nethrida blinked slowly and looked at Lif but hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Uhm... I suppose we would be honored to do that"
Finchley whispered to Lif, "I knew I should have read more history books than poetry and story ones..." She looked to Neth, hoping she might be able to supply an answer to the king's questions that would be true. Or true-ish at least.
Nethrida pondered for a moment then bowed to the King. "Um... We would require maps... Troop numbers... Information we are not yet privy to, your highness... To corroborate with what we have seen beyond the walls." She bowed again respectively.
The King would not actually wait for comment and would continue towards what would seem to be an observation platform. Two guards would gesture that the four of them were to accompany the royal party, leaving little choice.
Xandilif whispered to the others, pointing at the unconscious Sable. “Who wants to carry the idiot?”
Nethrida moved over to Sable "I can carry her, it wont be a problem" She smiled and picked her up. Considering the state of the Fortress, no one thought twice about someone being carried by her comrades.
They all ascended to the platform, where the King seemed to be very informal at the moment...speaking with generals, the two women advisors always close by, his wife and child moved somewhat back, obviously having been brought there to reassure the people.
Finchley looked out at the surrounding and smiled back at Lif. “Ha... he called us your maidens, me included…And I didn't even have to wear frills," she whispers under her breath.
The King looked at Cat, Neth and Sable. "Lady Xandilif, this is a strange grouping of retainers for a first born. Who are they and how did they come to be in your company...and what of the pageboy?' He gestured finally to Finch, who couldn’t help but sigh a bit in disappointment. She did not smack her forehead though every fibre of her being itched to.
Xandilif shrugged, then stopped herself as one should not shrug to kings, 'The page is Fin.......ummm....Finn. A boy of Cardolan that I...umm...won in a game of chance.” Finchley stared at her and rolled her eyes. “As for the others they were....ummm...lost circus performers...and I found them on my travels.'
Finchley did a little bow to the King, just in case, while Catalinna chuckles silently to herself, her grin of amusement hidden behind the mask she was wearing. Nethrida struggled to keep a straight face and ends up smiling a little bit.
The King however seemed satisfied. "Did any of you see any of our foes? If so, how long from the Fortress? Was your wounded friend attacked?'
Finchley inwardly scrambled for an answer that was not 'lots and lots of orcs' but figured speaking aloud would likely blow her cover as a 'pageboy'.
Nethrida frowned a little "Our friend was indeed waylaid by a raiding pack. We know not the exact numbers but they'll be numerous, and will be here before the sun goes down" She attempted to sound as informative as she could.
As Nethrida spoke to the King and his advisors and Finchley tried to look more male, Catalinna looked to Moyna. For a moment, she considers creating a little bit of chaos by selling the woman out. However, she remained silent to see where this went, her eyes now turning to the other woman next to Moyna to study her.
The dark haired woman, bore a clear resemblance to Finchley and seemed tense but hiding it well. She seemed to be a bit impatient...and in the way she looked at the King and stands in proximity to him, there was an intimacy.
Catalinna took note of the woman's subtle body language, filing the knowledge away. Her eyes then flitted to Finch and to the Queen before landing back on that woman again.
Finchley oh so casually stepped behind Lif again, looking every bit the attentive pageboy and blocking the dark haired woman's view of her. She turned her eyes to the queen for a while and noted how profoundly sad and weary the woman seemed to be, unable to keep the slight frown from her own face.
The King was focused on Nethrida, his mind clearly consumed by the coming battle. "You seem to have some knowledge of warfare, from your words and curious armor. Is your husband a knight in our kinsmen's lands to the East?'
Nethrida blinked a few times. Caught slightly offguard by the question she quickly regained her composure and nodded sharply "Was, your highness. He fell three years ago in a skirmish near the burial mounds south of here. I am here to honour his sacrifice"
The King bowed to her, deeply moved. "Your nobility shines through Lady Nethrida...and you are clearly a woman of intelligence with a fine eye for details. I am pleased to have you with us as the moment of truth approaches.” The King unrolled several maps. "Please, look these over and give us what notes you can of the current situation....'
Catalinna glanced toward the King, noting that in her opinion he was a really bad judge of character and very gullible.
The dark haired woman moved closer to the King, speaking to him softly. "My liege...time is of the essence if we are to make use of this brief lull....destiny waits upon your will.”
And for some reasons, those words sent a chill through all of them.
