Chapter Fifty-two
The Stone Circle. Kazushe.
They had followed Anduin, crossing it into South Ithilien and making for the Harad Road, which they would follow around the Emyn Arnen to Minas Tirith. From there, to Osgiliath, and Cirith Ungol. Syntoc grew dour as they drew nearer to Mordor, eating sparingly, talking little. Draco and Marigold came to rely on each other than ever. Draco was deeply worried about Syntoc, and was unable to draw the Wizard out of himself for more than a few moments at a time.
This was rough, beautiful country, symbolic of the last stand against the ugly borders of Mordor, as if the land showed it's inner beauty to warn the traveler to take in the sight, a living symbol of all that could be, in spite of the darkness.
They came to a ring of standing stones, centuries old, and the summer wind blew eerily between them.
There was a deep comraderie between them all now, a bond that was unshakeable, and they trusted each other.
Draco wondered at the meaning of these old monoliths of stone, which cast ominous shadows in the late afternoon, like the spirits of giants.
Mari was dwarfed by the huge presence of the stones, set as they were in a circle in the middle of a lonely plane. The tall grasses waved and rattled in the wind around them, and Marigold pulled the ivy away from one of the stones with a sense of foreboding.
"There are runes here!" she exclaimed. "Draco! Syntoc! What do they say? I can't read."
Draco began to read.
"Here among the giants with no voice,
The Mage of Silence must make his choice,
For light or darkness, good or ill,
For much depends of the strength of his will,
To summon the one of whom we speak,
The Circle must form, no heart within weak,
For if one should die before the quiet one chooses,
Much will be lost and the Circle the losers,
To summon them hither, the moon must make haste
The silent must choose, or the land be laid waste
Look for the moon in the house of the morn
And within for the Mage who is never reborn."
"Well," said Syntoc slowly. "We're in for a bit of a think over this one. Sit down, my boy." Syntoc took out his pipe.
"What is all that supposed to mean?" said Marigold to herself. "And who's this Mage of Silence everyone is one about?" Her hands on her hips, she looked again at the runes, which were meaningless symbols to her.
She felt a great distance from Draco sometimes, not only because of his secret, but because he was learned and on the way to wisdom and she was only a scared country Hobbit on her way to burgle the Dark Lord.
"The Mage of Silence is Kazushe," tittered Lunea in her left ear.
Marigold grinned. "Oh, Draco my dear, would you like to know the name of this silent Mage everyone's so interested in?"
Draco jumped up. Marigold was screaming with laughter. "And how in the world did you happen to know his name?"
"I didn't. I asked Lunea."
Lunea fluttered over, and Draco ducked, covering his head. "Oh, no, you don't! I won't be clouted by you again." He stood up slowly and Lunea knocked him in the back of the head anyhow.
"I'm going to be brainless by the time we reach Mordor. And I don't understand all this bit about the moon's house and all, and I don't think we should hang around here, it's too . . . exposed." His eyes traveled over the expanse of the plains.
"He is right," said Syntoc. "I sense an unfamiliar evil. We will have to return here another time. We will discuss what you know about Kazushe along the way."
Sil watched and listened as Draco and Syntoc read the runes. When they left, she approached it and ran her hand over the runes, then turned. She closed her eyes and used her other senses to assess the area. An Orc, or something of the like, was lurking nearby. She pulled out Aglar and walked back into the shadows, waiting for it. Soon she heard it approach and raised Aglar high over her head. When it was right near her she made a soft noise and it turned and faced her. She brought Aglar down over its head hard, killing it. She dragged the body into the light and called the others. "It isn't an Orc, but it is very near to one." She looked to the Wizard questioningly.
"That isn't like any Orc I've ever seen," said Draco grimly. The dead beast was Orcish in appearance but taller and far more muscled than even the Uruk-hai.
"There will be more," Syntoc intoned. "Let us move on with haste."
Sil nodded to Draco. "Aye, it is not a full blood." She leaned down and examined the body. "Orcs of Mordor, Orcs of the mountains," she muttered. Then she stood up. "He has been bred selectively. There are more and when they learn of this, they will be upon us. He was not scared of the light. They will be harder to fight than the other kinds."
Draco's anger flared. The Orc had obviously been following them. And no one had heard or seen it.
The way ahead was looking harder all the time.
Draco caught Lunea's eye warily. "Can Kazushe be summoned, Lunea?"
"Yes. Though I cannot say whether he will heed your summons or not. Kazushe is many things, not the least of which is mysterious. Do you seek to influence his choice?"
"Damn right I do. If it's so bloody important, I want him on our side."
"It is, very important."
"Especially now that the Council is fragmented."
As they rode on, and darkness came, Draco split his thoughts between Kazushe and keeping a sharp eye on the road behind them. Marigold was safe in front of him.
Draco was grateful to Sil for having killed the creature and told her so. Sil and Marigold found themselves in conversation about the Shire, and Draco grew sleepy.
"Take the reins for a while," he murmured in Mari's ear, and drifted off, leaning against her.
It wasn't long before he was swept into the field of dreams.
An Elf stood before him, his eyes a translucent blue, almost colorless, his hair nearly shadeless, so pale it was. Draco felt himself transform, longing to fly, and burn across the night.
"Dragon. I have heard your call."
"Kazushe?"
The Elf nodded slowly. "I require the blood of both the innocent and the guilty before rendering my decision," drawled Kazushe. "Until then . . ."
The image of the Elf began to erode, shimmering, and Draco's dream went down other twisted paths.
He forced himself to wake lest he forget what Kazushe had said to him.
The blood of the innocent and the guilty? Draco pondered long on those words silent.
Sil listened to the Hobbit until she noticed Draco had woken up and looked worried. "Draco," she spoke softly, "what ails you?"
"Kazushe," he replied. "He wants the blood of an innocent and guilty."
"Does he want death or just some blood?" Sil asked, hoping her guess was not the right answer.
"I . . . I am not sure," Draco said.
Sil swallowed hard. "You may have mine."
"You misunderstand," said Lunea. "You can't just go to him and say, 'here is the blood of an innocent and guilty.' That . . . is what the testing is for. Our blood, those of the light, mingled with the people of Middle Earth. When we are dead, those of us are or were innocent and guilty will be shown to him fully, and then he will choose."
"But why?" asked Draco. "Why such a heavy burden, to give your lives for us?"
"We believe in goodness," said Ierik simply.
"Do not think about it now," said John. "When Kazushe wishes to test us, he shall."
Sil listened to the Mages. They were all so complicated. But she knew that she had only been looking for an excuse to die. All her life she had endured pain and hardship and knew it wouldn't end anytime soon. Such was the Alatamir's life.
She softly clucked to Glam and said to Mir, "Go back to Lorien and tell my mother to guard it well."
Naiads loved to tell secrets to those they trusted, and her mother had told her of the many treasures of the Mystic Lake. Sil was not talking about the Silmaril but a treasure of her own, the crown of flowers made for her by LeafRunner. It had powers that would be useful later . . .
As Mir flew off, Sil looked into the sky and to Elbereth. "Give me hope, Valar," she said. Suddenly she saw a light flash across the sky from the West. She was not forgotten.
~*~
Kazushe sat back against his throne.
"It does not get any easier as time goes by . . ." he whispered.
~*~
Grool was watching as Sil killed the Burz-hai. "NO!" he screamed, slamming his fist into the table.
He climbed down the ladder and went into the open air. He had the Burz-hai double and redouble their training. By now, some of them were taller than Grool himself.
He went to visit Pansy. He saw Vark, asleep against a chair. "VARK! I want you to cook me something. If you can't, Pansy will cook you. So get cooking." Grool went back to his chamber to rest and plot . . .
