Black.
What little of Amdir's world was not black was gray, perhaps what could be called red, or so blurred as to make it impossible to tell. The moment he had realized what was out there, so near, so close, it was as if all the color had been sucked out. There was red, yes, but it was the sickly red that marked a Car—their robes and gave them their names.
Don't think of their names, Amdir, don't, he ordered himself.
He'd kept a hold on the real world, both by reminding himself that it existed and because a member of said real world was latched on to his arm and dragging him through it. He focused on him—Dale, his name was Dale. He'd been there before, had stood tall, he could be counted on, same as his brother.
Toradan.
Where was he?
He heard shouts and screams—the screams were mostly female…the women and children who'd been hiding, he remembered. Toradan had sent them away, to Cal Sprigley's farm. Yes. And Amdir was going—where was he going?
Where was he?
The world was blurred but he and Dale had exited the Mad Badger and went down the steps. They'd turned right…or was it left?
Come on, think!
Right. South. Away from the town center and his brother.
Amdir struggled against Dale. "Toradan!" he tried to say, but his mouth wouldn't work.
"Your brother will meet with us later," Dale said calmly. "Right now we need to get out of his way."
Dale was exuding such serentity it muted the pounding in his head and leached off a bit of the black, sharpening his vision. Just a little, but he noticed.
Then someone shouted.
"Father, no!"
He knew that voice—Jon Brackenbrook—and as Dale started in surprise they both turned instinctively towards it. Everything seemed to slow down. The world spun as he sought the direction the voice had came from. A flash of red stopped his search. He started to draw back but he'd already found the unmistakable sight of the Cargul. As he named them in his mind and looked at them they sharpened, leaving the rest of the world blurred.
One blur—Man shaped—dashed in front of the Cargul, distracting him from them just a bit.
They must have been distracted, possibly by whoever it was in front of them, for their previously unbroken chants in his head stopped.
The world cleared just a bit more.
He recognized the Man.
"Captain?" he mumbled.
Captain Brackenbrook was wildly swinging a sword at the two Cargul. "Go, Jon, go!" he ordered. "I'll hold them off!"
"You can't!" Jon shouted back. His voice was coming from Amdir's left, and he turned to see Toradan holding him back, trying to drag him away.
"We must go; he'll be fine!"
"I will not leave him!"
"Honor your father!" a new voice shouted, rough and deep. A stocky figure ran into view, wielding an axe. "Look after the townspeople, Jon!" A dwarf. Amdir struggled to remember his name. Atli, wasn't it?
As he charged the Cargul, they faltered in their attention to the Captain and he flicked one of their knives out of their unseen hands. It shrieked and swung at him with its sword.
He gasped and fell to his knees.
"Father!" Jon screamed. No one, not even Toradan, could have held him back. He drew his sword and it rang against the Cargul's.
Toradan hesitated for a moment and then nodded to himself. "Dale, you must get Amdir out!" he shouted loudly, running towards the Cargul.
Dale inhaled and turned. "No," Amdir mumbled, "must stay with Toradan—"
But the Cargul had heard and in the instant before Jon reached them one circled around Atli while he was busy with the other. It reached a hand towards Amdir and focused on him.
Come, Dunadan. You are ours. Cease this resisting. Come to us. You are alone. You are weak. You cannot—
The voice broke off with a ear-piercing shriek and as Amdir tried to compose himself he saw Toradan stumble back and a knife—a Morgul knife?—sticking out of the Cargul's chest.
"Atli, Jon, get the other knife!" Toradan shouted.
The Cargul screeched, staggering back. It began to fade, the invisible body becoming opaque.
The remaining Cargul screamed and attacked Atli, heading for Amdir.
Dale began pulling him back. "Come on," he whispered. "Toradan's using you as a distraction but it doesn't work if you're caught."
"Oh," Amdir muttered and worked on making his legs take him away from the Cargul and not toward them as they tried to follow the wraiths' will.
It was faltering, which made resisting it easier.
The Cargul with the knife in its chest fell to its knees and a face was visible for a brief moment before a burst of wind flew outwards, knocking everyone down.
Amdir heard words, or almost-words, in his head as the wind passed through him, chilling him. It was like he could feel what the now-dead Cargul felt. Death pain black gray white bliss.
Once the wind had passed everyone could breathe easier. They felt lighter and the world seemed fairer.
But not entirely, for the danger was not over yet.
The remaining Cargul, in the moment when everyone was stunned , stabbed Atli in the thigh and kicked him out of the way. Now only Jon was in its way and it raised its sword—
And shrieked as a firebrand embedded itself in its face, setting its robes on fire. It screamed and began running—aimlessly, it appeared.
Jon flicked the Morgul-knife out of its hand and caught it. He flicked it in the air, catching it by the other end and threw it. It landed in the Cargul's back and it fell forwards. Again there was an outburst of wind.
Then, for several seconds, there was nothing.
A/N: So? What do you think? I was going to fully relate Amdir's story as it appeared in the game (with him falling and all that) but I just couldn't make myself do it. But. His tale isn't over by a long shot and he is still wounded. I do have an idea where he can find a cure, however...