Chapter 2- The Four
Far across the sea, a storm-swept island lay in uncharted water. Desolate basalt cliffs reared from raging and foaming waters, and the dark rock stretched out across the smooth flat top of the island, littered with deep, clean, cracks. Not a single blade of grass grew from the cracks in the black rock. Not one strand of sea kelp waved from the glittering black sand around the island's shore. No birds, no fish, no life. A small fire glittered from the obsidian windows of a lone tower at the mouth of a cove. Rain and hail tried forcefully to shatter the carved black glass, but the windows were too strong, too strong for an ordinary storm.
From out across the wind scarred waters, four sleek, flat and narrow black boats speed towards the island from the four corners of the world. The Black sails furled and the thin, sinister masts tipped over and came to rest upon the ebony decks. The crews moved silently and swiftly, water and hail bouncing of their black backs as they hauled the boats into four separate caves. Above each cave was carved a single letter in some strange and unknown text.
From the first boat, with a crew of foxes, came a heavily cloaked and hooded black figure. Its face was unseen and it walked slowly and smoothly, a slight clinking noise emanating from the many glittering black plates of steel that covered its body. The heavy, metal capped boots made an unearthly sound of silence as the creature walked, and the crew shrank back from it as it descended the plank onto the carved rock passageway. Entering the passage, the cloaked figure turned to the boat, paused, and then swung a stone door in place with a light click.
Quickly turning on its heal, the figure walked to another small door in the wall and met with a second black cloaked and hooded figure standing there. A light and hollow wind whistled through the passageway, making the single torch flicker. With a sweep of its paw, the first figure pushed its damp hood from its head. The creature revealed was a black male wildcat, his black, obsidian eyes were dull and emotionless, and his fur glistened in the light of the single sputtering torch. When the wildcat spoke, his voice was a flat rasp.
"Greetings. It looks as if the master has called again."
The second figure removed its hood. It was a female wildcat, black, like her companion, but with deep indigo eyes. The female wildcat was strikingly beautiful, but a sinister air hung about her form, as if the presence of another creature was around her. Shaking out her slightly round black ears she replied with a soft whisper.
"So it seems. It also looks as if you have not grown any different. Stating the obvious will not start pleasant conversations."
She turned sharply and began moving down the hall. Jogging slightly to catch up, the first wildcat fell in step with the other, narrowing his eyes at his fast-moving companion. She kept her eyes straight ahead as he spoke again. His voice was sharper this time.
"Why do you do this, Hyarmana? Your mind is always on the latest directive. Expand a little."
Without stopping or looking over at him, Hyarmana replied with a slight smile.
"And to what purpose? To please you? Formen, you underestimate the master. He hears and sees everything, knows everything, and feels everything. Any emotion that passes through his messengers bodies, he experiences. And there are a few emotions he does not agree with. For instance: Friendship. . ."
"Hyarmana. . ."
"Joy. . ."
"Hyarmana, stop!"
Hyarmana grinned wickedly at her fuming partner. Slowly, she formed the next word, teasing him further.
"Love."
Formen turned his head to the front and growled.
"I feel nothing of the sort towards you."
They walked the final stretch of passage way in silence, finally coming to two large Ebony doors that had been inlayed with glittering black jade. As they waited, Hyarmana narrowed her eyes at him and tossed her head fur from her vision. A slight smile playing about her lips.
"Not at all?"
Formen placed a paw upon a large black circle of jade set in the door, and the Massive timbers slowly swung inward. Both wildcats raised their hoods, and Formen replied, eyes front as they stepped into the gigantic hall.
"N-none whatsoever."
The black marble floor radiated with heat, and strange symbols were etched along the ground in quartz, glowing from the fire in the room beneath. The cavernous ceiling soared above their heads arched with sinister designs of steel. The walls were paneled in hexagons of jet, and they reflected the glowing light from the floor.
Formen and Hyarmana crossed the room to the center where they stood in glowing rings, North in red, Hyarmana, across from him in blue. Another cloaked figure hurried across the hall from the large doble doors on the other side of the hall and stood silently in the yellow circle, leaving the green empty.
With a loud creaking groan, The ceiling split in six parts, and opened like a black flower to the stormy sky. Rain poured in and fell upon the heated floor, dissolving into steam and slowly rising in thick white plumes. From the middle of the three creatures a pedestal rose from the ground. It had been carved from a gem known as fire opal, and on it rested a small, black diamond.
Suddenly a voice echoed around the walls of the cavern, bouncing everywhere and penetrating the minds of the three that stood in the hall. They shut their eyes and knelt in front of the diamond, shivering slightly at the powerful sound that swept over them in waves.
"North."
Formen stood up slowly and removed his hood, bowing his black head to the pedestal. He spoke in an even, measured tone.
"Lord, the Northlands have been conquered. The vermin residing there gave in willingly. Your empire in the north is finished."
"South."
Hyarmana stood as Formen knelt back down. She drew breath quickly, swallowed and spoke steadily and slowly.
"Ruler. The southerners still hold your might at bay. One castle of Floret prevents us from completing your empire to the south."
There was a slight pause, and the three listened to the rain hissing as it hit the scorching floor.
"West has not arrived."
The third figure stood up quickly, her voice was heavy with agitation.
"Mighty one, After Numenor helped me to defeat the invincible army of the east, he sailed west, not wanting to return to you without some information. He said he would arrive as soon as he discovered who protects that shore."
The rain continued to evaporate upon the heated floor, and plumes of white steam billowed about the three cloaked figures. The silence that reigned was unbearable. Formen glanced over at Hyarmana, but she did not acknowledge the glance. They waited as their ruler processed the information he had been given. Suddenly, a roaring hissing sound was heard, as the fire room beneath them was filled with water. The ground reverberated with the building pressure of steam, and three hundred and sixty small rock knobs shot from their places in a circle around the pedestal. The three creatures' robes were whipped around them as a mighty blast of steam exploded from the ground, shooting three hundred and sixty streams of white gas high into the gale swept sky. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped, and all that could be heard was a faint hissing of hot rocks in water. The voice echoed around the room with an almost puzzled edge.
"Numenor does not respond. He has severed the connection."
The three minions could not believe their ears. Numenor? His mind free from masters clutches? Impossible. The Masters' mind linked into all their thoughts and actions, it was impossible to escape his iron grip. And yet, somehow, Numenor had managed.
"Romena, travel west and find Numenor. He must be destroyed. Hyarmana, Formen, travel to Morgai and unleash my . . . new power onto to remaining resistance of the south. I will not tolerate failure."
The voice chuckled evilly, and the three cloaked creatures bowed and left the hall quickly, out through the looming black doors. The laughter grew and grew, echoing demonically through the halls, boring into the minds of his followers. Only one of them did not hear the evil, Numenor.
* * *
Out on top of a rocky mountain, shrouded in mist, a small hut stood. The cool air was hung with foreboding, and a small light glimmered from the single window. A solitary squirrel, older than time itself sat on a battered cushion facing his single guttering candle. His eyes shut tight, head bowed he muttered to himself.
"He has covered the ground with darkness . . . Dried the lakes, and leveled forests . . ."
"Ebony, sign of agony."
"Jade, sign of death."