Maedhros

by Scribe

Seq to Triumvirate- Frank Miller become involved in an archaelogical project called Maedhros & inadvertently stumbles into a strange new world. As Frank uncovers the secret behind Maedhros, his existence is revealed to enemies he cannot fathom. COMPLETE.

7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

The Children of the Riddermark

Miranda stared at the crimson eyes before her in disbelief.

Logic told her that what she was seeing was impossible but what she had seen with her own eyes left her very little room for doubt.  She had killed him.  She had put two bullets into his head and four more into his body and killed him.  Miranda may have been rusty with a gun but she knew that she had not missed. Every bullet had penetrated his flesh. She was as certain of this as the air in her lungs. Unfortunately, whether or not she had shot him did not seem to matter because at this instant, he was standing before her, large as life and very much alive.

"I have waited a long time for this," he continued to speak, his low voice sending shivers through her skin. "I knew when I saw the hobbit that you would not be far behind.  That you are both here makes the moment far sweeter since I have no need to keep either of you alive."

Miranda did not allow him to continue and promptly raised her gun to fire again, this time at point blank range. She pulled the trigger continuously, allowing the semi-automatic 9mm Lurz to do its worst as it emptied nearly every bullet in its magazine into the creature before her. Miranda made every bullet count, sending him staggering backwards, his head snapping back and forth like a marionette under the ministrations of a clumsy puppeteer. The mask on his face peeled, white rubber shredding under the explosive force of the projectiles. She saw him jerk before her spasmodically and waited for him to fall. 

But he did not.

Instead, after the discharge smoke had cleared and the room was bathed in the silence borne of the shock of those present, Miranda saw him straighten up and face her again. This time there was no mistaking why he had not died, why bullets did not affect him.  The mask clung to his face in shreds of rubber, stripping him of the façade he had worn until moment, revealing his true nature.  His crimson eyes had told her that he was not human but until this moment, had not realized the true horror of what she faced. 

Beneath the mask, where there should have been skin and bone, flesh and muscle, there was nothing.

She could see the mask clinging to the back of his invisible skull. Its texture was just as ruined as it was in the front but there was nothing in between.  Where there should have been a skull there was only emptiness.  It was like looking through glass.

"What are you?" She managed to say, her astonishment making her forget her situation.

"Not so easily killed this time," he hissed and with that, lashed out his fist in a powerful blow.

Frank could only watch in horror as the creature standing before his wife, whatever it was, hit Miranda with such power that she practically flew across the floor and smashed into a desk, collapsing it beneath her with the force of her landing.

"MIR!" He shouted, running forward before the words left his lips. Unfortunately, the enemy was determined to keep him in their presence and immediately closed in on him.  Powerful hands grabbed him, refusing to let him go to Miranda who was still lying amongst the wreckage of the desk, unmoving. They emphasized their menace by the gun barrel that was aimed in his direction leaving no doubt as to what would happen if he gave them any further trouble.  Not that it mattered very much to him, since he resumed struggling almost immediately. Miranda was too important to him to do anything else.

"Let me go you bastards!" He shouted but the impassive masks were as unmovable as their grip upon him. They were determined to keep him restrained and Frank wondered what was so important about him that they were willing to kill all the others but leave him alive. 

Surely this could not just be about Bryan?

Even if his protests fell on the deaf ears of his captors, Frank was by no means unheard. The others not restraining the archaeologist had their weapons trained on the remaining occupants in the room.  Elladan and Elrohir stood side by side, having armed themselves with knives in Miranda's kitchen prior to their arrival here.  The blades were hardly elven blessed and would do little against the Nazgul but at the moment the twins would take any advantage they could acquire.  At a later time when they had escaped, if they escaped that is, they would perform the elven blessing required on more appropriate weapons.

The Nazgul with their weapons trained on the two sons of Elrond were somewhat distracted by what was happening between their leader, whose singular focus on Miranda left no doubt to those who understood what he was. Without doubt, Elladan and Elrohir knew that the Nazgul intent on killing Miranda was once the Witch King of Angmar whom Eowyn, the White Lady of Rohan had slain at the Battle of Pelennor Fields.  Unfortunately for the Nazgul, such distractions were fatal mistakes when dealing with two warriors as seasoned as Elladan and Elrohir. Already, Elrohir's hand was creeping towards the knife concealed in his clothing.  Elladan noted the intent in his brother's eyes and sought a more disabling solution.  He found it an instant later and waited for Elrohir to proceed before taking advantage of it. 

The Witch King was making his way across the floor towards Miranda. Frank was struggling even harder to break free in order to help her but to no avail.  The Nazgul knew his value and were not foolish enough to risk his breaking free.  The other two men in the room were similarly restrained with the Nazgul's weapons and the elves knew they had a narrow window of opportunity in which to act. Both men seemed familiar to Elladan or Elrohir but neither twin could place them at this moment. The thoughts of the elven brothers were still too fixated upon the urgency of their situation and deadly threat to Miranda to be able to think clearly about anything else.

It mattered little who these strangers were, Elrohir thought to himself as he heard one of them shouting at the Nazgul to take something and leave, as long as they knew to act when the opportunity to escape presented itself.

"I said kill them!" The Witch King ordered once more in an effort to silence the distraction caused by the humans.  It was the woman that he wanted to kill, Elrohir thought bitterly, the woman the Nazgul would have unless they did something now.

As the Nazgul before them turned, Elrohir pulled out the blade in his possession and flung it with deadly accuracy. The beast screeched in pain as the butcher's knife buried itself in the center of its skull almost to the hilt.  The wraith reeled in agony, its invulnerability obviously diminished by the absence of Sauron feeding its power. While the weapons of men could not kill them or harm them permanently, it seemed they could be hurt.  Prompted by his brother, Elladan grabbed the metal stool and smashed it into the body of the other wraith, ensuring that the weapon in the creature's grip went flying.

Jason leapt for the artefact the instant the two men on the other side of the room acted, admiring them for their speed and their courage.  The creature nearest to Jason saw what he was doing and attempted to stop him. Gunfire exploded past his ear as Jason dove towards the bench and grabbed the artefact that had cost Hans Skogull his life, careful not to handle it by its facet, recalling what had happened to Frank Miller when he had made the attempt. Fortunately, the artefact was still covered by a layer of fossilized stone and as soon as Jason grabbed a hold of it, he rolled off the bench and upended it so that it would take the brunt of the gunfire coming at him.  Wooden splinters flew in all directions as the bullets tore through the surface of the bench but fortunately kept Jason marginally protected.

However, the assassins were not about to let him take refuge behind for long and moved to shove the bench away.  Jason reacted quickly, throwing his foot out and smashing the ball of his heel against the assassin's wrist. The creature recoiled his hand but did not falter.  Instead, the dark suited killer threw out a fist that connected with Jason's jaw and damn near broke it.  Jason felt pain flaring through his skull at the hard strike. He blinked away his pain and saw a hand reaching to grab him and knew that if he were to fall into the bastard's grip, he would be done for.  Out of sheer desperation, Jason scrambled to retrieve the artefact in his knapsack and grabbed it just as a hand was about to wrap its fingers around his arm.

Pressing the facet side of the artefact into the creature's gloved hand, he felt the grip on his arm release immediately.  He did not even know how it was possible for the artefact's heat to be felt through thick leather gloves and chided himself for forgetting this very important point when he had made this desperate bid to defend himself.  Fortunately, how it was possible mattered very little because the effect was undeniable. 

The creature did nothing less than scream in pain.

It was a sound unlike anything that Jason had ever heard, like a shriek one would hear from a banshee in the some dark, stygian tale.  It cut through the ears of everyone present and froze the other dark suited villains in their tracks.  The victim who suffered this agony, retreated, forgetting all about the gun as he clutched his hand in pain, the leather glove he was still unmarked but the reaction was undeniable.   Jason could not understand it but then that was nothing new.  Since coming into contact with the artefact, confusion seemed to be the order of the day.

Jason retrieved the artefact from where it had fallen and as he and as he prepared to put it back in the knapsack, noticed that it appeared somehow darker. The crimson had deepened in colour that it was almost black. He wondered if it was a trick of the light but knew it could not be. Perhaps coming into contact with whatever this creature was had tarnished it in someway, Jason could not be certain. However, he was not debate the matter when they were still need deep in trouble. Right now, he had to find Eric. 

The two men who inspired this melee were making their way across the floor towards Frank.  Jason saw the gun the creature had dropped when he attacked it with the artefact.  It had been some time since he had held a weapon, not since his days in the New Zealand army and back then, he was more accustomed to using the Austrian made Steyr Stg.77 AUG assault rifles that were the staple of both Australian and New Zealand armed forces. He saw the assassins opening fire on the two men as they advanced towards Frank took cover behind the table before opening fire.  His first impulse should have been to run but it appeared that this drama had suddenly widened in its scope and he was not about to leave without the others who probably had vital pieces of the puzzle he was trying to solve about the artefact.

Pulling the trigger, Jason saw the bullets tearing through the bodies of the enemy but like before, they staggered  at the impact of the projectiles but did not fall.  Instead, they turned towards him.

"I should have been listened to my father," Jason muttered.

************

.

When Eric saw the blond woman smashing into the table, sending Frank into a near hysterical frenzy to reach her, he could not longer deny what Jason had been trying to tell him.  He saw the crimson eyes that Jason had seen in Hofskojull and knew  there was no denying that any of it was imagination or hallucination. What he saw was real. Everything that Jason had claimed about these creatures was true and now Eric would have to accept it. His mind could no longer ignore the evidence of his eyes, any more than he could ignore the fact that the woman had damn near emptied an entire clip into the leader of this cadre of killers and was still alive. 

If they wanted to get out of this nightmare, he would have not other choice but to accept it.

When the leader had struck the woman, flinging her aside like she was little more than a rag doll, everything went to completely hell.  Her two companions launched themselves at the enemy in a bold attack and the ensuing melee had ensured the outbreak of further pandemonium throughout the room. Gunfire exploded through the air, deafening their ears with its thunderous sound, shattering instruments and riddling the walls with bullets. Fragments of glass and plaster created a second front of deadly projectiles as the force of gunfire sent pieces everywhere.

Eric crouched low, trying to seek out Jason in all this chaos and sighted the young cameraman with a gun in his hand.  Jason had come to him after serving in the New Zealand army so it did not surprise Eric that the young man knew how to handle the weapon.  Jason was firing at the enemy, trying to give the two men with long dark hair the appropriate cover needed to reach Frank. The archaeologist was still in the grip of his captors, who for some reason felt that he was the greater prize. Eric's mind was filled with questions on that point but suppose that the time for answers would come later, if they survived this.

When he saw the leader of the assassins making its way towards the woman who had yet to get up, Eric was prompted into moving. Perhaps it was his natural inclination to come to the rescue of a lady or something more, he was not certain.  He only knew that he had to help her.  Eric's increased pace saw him reaching her first.  She was still lying amidst the wreckage of the table she had been thrown into, somewhat dazed. She was beginning to stir when he skidded next to her and he felt a swell of admiration at the nerve she had displayed in facing the creature to begin with. 

She had certainly fared better in the face off than poor Petra Tebben.

"Come on luv," he said taking her arm, shifting his gaze anxiously between her and the advancing enemy, "you've got to get on your feet. He's coming."

"What is he?" She managed to ask, shaking the disorientation out of her head. "I put an entire clip into him."

"I don't know," Eric replied offering her the most honest answer he could think of at the moment.  "We've got to get out of here." He insisted.

"Where's Frank?" Miranda demanded, ignoring the stranger's plea for her to move and immediately searched the room for her husband.  She saw him an instant later, still within the grip of these dark suited monsters that could not be killed with bullets. If anything had the ability to chase away the fog in her brain it was the awareness of his life in danger.

Eric did not have a chance to answer because he saw a shadow move over him and Miranda's gaze shifting past his shoulder.

"The children of the Riddermark," the creature hissed. "Your brother cannot save you now, shield bitch. I will kill him just as easily as I am going to kill you!"

"Like bloody hell you will," Eric kicked out his foot and landed it on the assassin's knee.  The enemy staggered but did not fall; further adding further proof to Eric's belief that they were not dealing with a human but something else entirely.  Unfortunately, this realization did him little good because the creature was still standing and Eric had no idea how to hurt it, if it could be hurt at all.

At that moment, he remembered the helmet that accompanied them throughout their journey to Norway.  He had little more than a second to ascertain where it was before the creature locked his arm around his throat and slammed him into the wall. Eric felt his head smash again the hard surface, a wave of pain flaring across his skull, pulling a blanket of disorientation around his senses. He could feel moisture against his scalp and knew that it was blood. Groaning under his breath, he fell to his knees but somehow, this haze of pain, he saw the helm. It was lying on the floor next to Hans Skogull's corpse, having fallen there during the battle.

Miranda saw the stranger who roused her in the grip of the creature. She saw him struggling to break free and knew that if she did not do something; he would be dead in seconds. Elladan and Elrohir had reached Frank and were doing battle with the thing's companions.  Her husband was not exactly freed but his escape was being attended to and she recalled overhearing the monster making it known that they wanted Frank alive.  She looked at the man who had tried to help her and felt a surge of affection for him, not unlike what she felt when Aksel had been tormenting her sons, inspiring in her the same fierce protection.

She ran forward and threw a powerful kick into the creature's side. Miranda had a sense that it would not be enough to hurt him permanently but it still had to adhere to some laws of physics.  The force she was putting into that one kick would move him, no matter what he was. Her foot landed against ribs and under normal circumstances would have shattered the bone and sent fragments through organs.  The training women that received in the SAS were extremely different to what was learnt by men.  Men did not have the physical disadvantage of the weaker sex and since women agents would most likely be dealing with male enemies, their combat training was modified to suit.  Thus Miranda not only knew how to kill but she knew how to ensure that the initial strikes be absolutely disabling because more often than not, her opponent would be stronger than her.

If the creature had been human, he would most likely be spiting blood from internal injuries by now. 

The strike caused him to release the Australian who slumped to the floor when the enemy released his grip. Miranda faced the creature once more, no longer taking into account that he had no features and ignoring the grotesque image that was his shredded mask over invisible flesh. It looked like someone had torn apart a human skull and scooped out all the insides.  The image of him was going to stay with her a long time.

"For so long I have searched for you," it said malevolently, "I knew when I saw the hobbit you would be here.  I have waited for an eternity to kill you, sister daughter of Theoden, I shall savour the moment for just as long."

"You talk too much," Miranda retorted, ignoring his threats since it was more important to her to neutralize him rather than to bandy words about things she did not understand.  "If you're going to kill me, you best do it now. Your prattling is just pissing me off more."

However, the creature showed surprising speed and grabbed her leg, spinning her around in mid air before allowing her to fall hard against the floor. Miranda felt glass and plaster biting into her skin but it was not in her nature to let scrapes slow her down. She flipped onto her feet once more and threw a fist into its face, hoping to affect it in someway but once again, it caught her fist as easily as it had caught her leg.

"You will have to do better than that," he sneered. "You no longer have the advantage of Pelennor."

With that he swung out in a backhanded blow that struck her across the cheek. The force of it sent Miranda sprawling, her jaw burning in pain and she could taste blood in her mouth.  She landed on the floor hard. Her body crying out in protest at the painful landing. She did not linger in that position long because her instincts were awakened despite a decade of being dormant.  While she was probably a little rusty in some aspects of her former training, Miranda was rather surprised by how swiftly it had all come back to her when she needed it.  She scrambled to her feet, preparing to launch another attack when suddenly, she heard the Australian call to her.

"Use this!" He shouted as she turned to him.  He was standing next to Hans' dead body and was carrying in his hands what looked like a helmet. When he had her attention, he flung the object to her and Miranda caught it easily, a look of question in her eyes.

"Hit him with it!" Eric shouted, hoping the doubt her in her eyes would give way to obedience.

Miranda was sceptical about the effectiveness of this tarnished medieval helmet but did not have time to debate the matter as the creature came at her again. Instinctively, Miranda used the helmet to block the blow that would have shattered her nose if it had connected. Its' fist landed against the metal surface and then a most remarkable thing happened before her astonished eyes. His hand sizzled as if his skin had just made contact with the surface of a heated skillet. She saw him retract the limb before screaming in pain, the first real indication she had been given that this thing could be harmed.

Whatever this helmet was, it was capable of hurting him.

The realization had little more than a second to infuse itself into Miranda's consciousness before she exploited it. Clutching the helmet as she would hold a bowling ball or a discus, Miranda swung the helmet at the enemy and struck him across his featureless face with a loud whack. The effect was immediate as the same sickening sizzle was heard. He howled in pain, a bone chilling sound that only made her hit him again in the same place. He reeled in pain and his agony gave her even greater incentive to keep striking. She slammed the helmet into his ribs and this time; the desired effect was produced, causing him to double over in pain.  When he was on his knees, she brought the helm against his skull, sending him flat onto the floor; his face grinding into the debris covered surface. She pressed her knee against the back of his neck and kept the helmet poised above his head as she shouted to the creatures holding Frank.

"LET HIM GO!" She ordered, eyes blazing, showing them that she would smash the helmet into their leader's skull if they did not comply.

Elladan and Elrohir took the opportunity to wrestle Frank away from the Nazgul while they were battling with their decision.  Without Sauron in this world, their powers were greatly diminished. In the days of old, not even an elven-blessed weapon could stop them permanently and the twins had no idea how Miranda was able to capacitate the Witch King. However, they did not waste the opportunity. Picking up another stool, Elladan flung it against the back of the beast determined to keep Frank its prize. While lacking the power of Miranda's unexpected weapon, it did disorientate the enemy enough for Frank who was already fighting hard to break free at last.

Frank saw the other creature lunging at him, to regain their grip but the archaeologist was not about to become captive again. He ducked quickly, scrambling across the floor on his hands and knees as the enemy slammed on the ground.  Like a spitting feline, the dark suited killer was soon on his feet, closing the distance between Frank and himself.  Frank saw him advance a few more steps before a hail of bullets halted him in his tracks.  Frank saw the bullets tearing across his chest and could only offer a nod of gratitude at the young man who had fired them from across the room.

"Frank we must leave!" Elrohir's voice suddenly exploded in his ears. "These creatures cannot be killed!"

"What?" Frank looked up at him as Elrohir pulled him to his feet. He was right of course. Frank had seen his wife empty an entire magazine bullets into one of their chests and the bastard had still stood up.  Questions filled his mind but the urgency in Elrohir's eyes told him that he would have to wait for those answers until they were safely away..

"Yes, alright," Frank nodded dumbfounded.

"Miranda!" Elladan was shouting at his wife. "Leave him! We must go!"

Miranda saw Frank in Elrohir's care and felt a flood of relief.  Even though she had no idea what they were, the strategist that she was trained to be could see that the enemy was momentarily disorientated. Perhaps they did not expect such a ferocious defence from those in the room. Whatever the reason, she assessed immediately that what advantage she and the others had, was only temporary. It was wise to leave while they still could. As it was, the commotion being caused by gunfire was going to bring the authorities and Miranda's mind was already wondering how they were going to explain all this. 

The creature beneath her was gaining strength; she could feel the swell beneath her knees, the growing climax of rage and power that was even now bursting its banks. Elladan was right, they had to go and now. She brought the helmet down against the back of the creature's skill once more, certain that she would do little more than keep it disorientated.  He uttered a grunt of pain as Miranda climbed off him and started to run towards Frank who was being ushered out of the room by Elrohir.

Suddenly his hand lunged out and wrapped a fist around her ankle, pulling back hard enough to bring Miranda down against the floor. Miranda felt the side of her head slamming against the surface but this time she was running on adrenaline and recovered a good deal faster.  She saw him rising to his feet and looked around for a weapon.  Seeing her gun, Miranda lunged for it.  She would have shot him if she had not remembered that her previous attempt did not even slow him down in the slightest. Checking her gun, Miranda found only one bullet left in the breach and knew that it would do little good if a dozen had been unable to harm him. 

However, her eyes caught a glimpse of something else that changed the odds considerably.

"You, get the hell out of here!" She shouted at the Australian who was waiting for her. "Take your friend with you!"

"Not without you!" He answered back, his eyes widened with anxiety because he could see the enemy was not going to let them go so easily.

"DO IT!" Miranda fairly snarled.

He swore angrily but complied nevertheless, retrieving the helmet  first. Once she was certain he would obey,  Miranda turned to face the assassins who were now converging upon her since she was the one giving the orders. She returned her attention to what she had sighted a few seconds earlier and needed to acquire if any of them were to leave this room alive.  She hardly noticed the Australian grabbing the young man who had been providing Elladan and Elrohir with cover, nor was she concerned with Frank because her husband was already out of the room and as far as she was concerned, better off than the rest of them.

"Miranda!" Elladan was shouting at her, urging her to the door.

"GO!" Miranda ordered. "I'll be right behind you."

"I think not," the enemy hissed behind her. She did not have to look over her shoulder to know that he was there.  Although Miranda did not understand it, there was something altogether personal about his hatred for her. Unfortunately, it would have to be a question for another time.  She picked up the object she had seen partially concealed beneath a workbench. It was a perfectly routine piece of equipment in a laboratory environment but at this moment, it was their only means of escape. 

Without saying a word, she smashed the gas cylinder into his body, not caring whether or not it would harm him as the helmet had done. The weight of the cylinder used to give flame to the Bunsen burner on the bench, caused the enemy to stagger backward. The others were closing in on her and Miranda knew that if she did not make for the door now, she would never reach it.  Running towards the exit, she was almost to the doorway when she stopped suddenly and turned around.

"Hey!" She shouted at the being who wanted her dead so badly. "Catch!"

Miranda did not wait for him to catch it before she fired the last bullet in her gun. No sooner than she had pulled the trigger, she spun on her heels and launched herself through the open doorway, not waiting to see what would happen when the projectile struck the hard metal shell of the cylinder.

The explosion that followed sent a blast of heat washing across her back and the shockwave aided her flight through the door.  She slammed into the wall of the outside corridor and fell on her hands knees just in time to see a ball of fire coming towards her. Hardly pausing to take breath, Miranda was on her feet and rushing forward to avoid the gust of flames.  She could see Frank and the others along corridor, her husband was not about to go anywhere without her and was running back to ensure that she had made her escape.

Miranda looked over her shoulder and saw the burst of flames escaping the lab and wondered if fire alone was enough to kill those creatures.  She rather doubted it but hoped that the explosion would give them the time to put some distance between themselves and those things, whatever they were.  She took a moment to catch her breath but suspected that time was against them. Miranda knew now without any doubt that this was the enemy Bryan was trying to protect them from and now that they had been discovered, Miranda knew they could not stay here.

"Mir!" Frank ran to his wife, grateful to see her.  If it was not for Elladan making certain that he was ushered out the door, Frank would never have left her alone in that room to face those things alone.  As it was, he had been quite astonished by how she had managed to save them all, considering how close everyone in the room had come to meeting a premature end.  He tried not to think about Hans, certain he would never be able to get rid of the image of seeing the old man's neck snapped like kindling.  The shock of everything that had happened had kept the full vent of his grief from overcoming him but Frank knew that when he had a moment to catch his breath, the sorrow would come.

"Frank!" Miranda exclaimed as they met in a tight embrace.  For a moment, the peril their lives had suddenly been plunged into was forgotten. There was only the gratitude that both of them had emerged from the incident unscathed. "Are you alright?"

"I was going to ask the same of you!" He replied, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the mother of his children had managed to defeat those creatures with almost effortless skill.  It was a side of her he had never seen before and Frank was trapped between anxiety and amazement at what she had been capable of.

"I'm fine," she said and noted that his face was frowning in concern at the bruises across her jaw and the side of her face. "Its nothing that won't heal. Frank we can't stay here. I don't know what those things were but I don't think I was able to stop them permanently."

"You're right," Frank agreed, brushing aside his reservations about Miranda for the moment because they needed to leave. The hallway was filling with smoke and the others were making their way out of the building. No doubt the commotion of gunfire and the explosion was going to bring others to this place and at the moment, Frank had no wish to answer any questions when he had so many himself that needed answering. "Let's get to the house. We'll figure out what to do there."

"I don't think that's safe," she answered as he took her hand and Miranda noted that Frank tried not to notice the gun she was clutching in the other.

"I agree but it will give us a chance to think about what we're going to do next," Frank replied as they jogged down the corridor, leaving the thickening smoke behind them.  In the distance, they could hear the sirens from fire engines and police cars growing louder. "I really think it was just bad luck that they found me. They were after the others and I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  They acted as if they hadn't expected to find me here and if that's the case, we have a little time, assuming they managed to survive the blast," Frank paused long enough to look down the corridor.

Miranda did the same and like her husband, saw only smoke and fire emanating from the doorway of the destroyed laboratory. The flames were not content to remain content within the confines of the room and were making their way into the corridor. It would not be long before the entire faculty building was consumed in fire.  As it was, the explosion had probably damaged the sprinkler system unleashing the full might of the inferno upon the building.  In a matter of minutes, this place would be crawling with police and fire fighters asking questions and Miranda was reluctant to reveal the story of how this disaster had come to be.

"After what we just saw," she answered meeting his gaze. "I wouldn't count on it."

Unfortunately, she was right.  Something was happening here, something that was beyond what they understood.  Suddenly, it became all so clear why Bryan felt the need to disappear so completely that no one could find him, not even the brother who was his only family in the world.  However, this realisation was shunted aside because he saw Miranda's expression change from that of the self-assured woman who had managed to save all their lives to complete and utter panic.

"Oh my god Frank!" Miranda exclaimed and started running towards the door as if the Furies themselves were pursuing her.

"What is it?" He raced after her, feeling his soul suffuse with alarm at the desperation and fear in her voice.

"The boys!" Miranda shouted. "We have to get to the boys!"

************

When Irina Sadko received the telephone call from one of the Nine informing them that Bryan Miller's brother had been found, she was not surprised to hear that once again the Nazgul had failed in their duty to retrieve the human.  From within the confines of her Paris office, she was seriously beginning to question how David had managed to get anything accomplished with such incompetents as his servants.  The wraiths' connection to each other provided the phantom creatures with a kind of collective consciousness that allowed one to know the thoughts of the other even when they were separated by distance. Thus while five of their number was engaged in the battle to retrieve Frank Miller, the others who had been lying in wait outside the building were being provided with new instructions as Irina ruminated on this new information.

It did not take her long to discover that there was a Frank Miller listed in the University of Oslo's faculty personnel directory. Considering that Miller was a very common name, it had not been possible to find Bryan's brother until a further clue had been provided.  Now that clue had presented itself, Irina had no trouble pinpointing which Miller in Europe shared the same genes with the British agent who had stolen her lover away.  Thanks to the marvels of the Internet and computers in general, Irina was soon able to discern that Frank Miller had family residing with him at the campus that included a wife named Miranda and two sons, Samuel and Philip, aged five and seven respectively.  By the time that she was told that the Nine had not captured the archaeologist and were forced to flee the scene after local authorities were drawn to the gun battle that had taken place during the effort, Irina had already issued her orders for the other Nazgul to act.

Instead of chasing their prey half way across Europe, there was a much simpler way to bring them to her, now that she was aware of all the facts.  While their efforts to date had not impressed Irina very much, she did know that they were relentless and they could move quickly when the need demanded it. For her plan to work now, they would have to exert those abilities with absolutely no margin for error.

This was a race and if the Nine or Irina ever wished to retrieve David Saeran, then they would have to win.

**************

He was dreaming.

It was an old dream, one that he had many times in his life.  He learned long ago not to fear them because mum always said that dreams lived only in your head and they could not exist outside unless you allowed it.  His dreams were in actual truth nightmares but fortunately, it was not in Sam's nature to fear what he did not believe was real.  For a boy his age, he was surprisingly pragmatic about such things. Dad said that he acquired that trait from his Uncle Bryan whom Sam remembered only vaguely because the man never visited that often and when he did, seemed terribly uncomfortable around his young nephews.

Whatever the reason, whenever Sam was visited by these nightmares, he looked upon them with a sense of unreality though at the time, their ability to frighten him was considerable.  Still, he told himself that these were things with had real power over him and when he awoke, they soon faded out of memory. The nightmares left only one vivid image in the waking world that Sam refused to indulge in any shape or form, no matter how much he tried to dispel it. The memory was like a thorn in his mind, a jagged nail that would make him bleed if he looked too closely at it.  The dreams did not plague him often so the image was shunted deep inside the recesses of his psyche, to the place children hid all things that frightened them, even when they were as brave as Sam. 

The image of riders in black.

On this occasion, he dreamed he was walking on an endless road.  On previous occasions, the road stretched across the barren wasteland of a treeless plain, where the soil on the ground felt like ash and he could feel sharp stones digging into his feet. Other times, it was a dark forest with big looming trees and shadows everywhere.   Today, it was the latter and the forest seemed even more pervading if such a thing was possible.  He was filled with a deep sense of urgency to keep moving and although Pip sometimes appeared in the dream with him, today there was no sign of his brother, only the other.

Always the other.

The other, whom Sam could never remember well enough to recall clearly when he was awake, was also here.  He knew nothing about his companion except that every instinct in his bones told him that when they were together, he was exactly where he ought to be.  It was odd, this feeling he felt towards this unknown face that was deeper than friendship, greater than love, a sense that at the other's side was where Sam belonged and where he would always be because that was the cosmic design of his existence. His young mind could not fully understand the enormity of it but of this one thing he had no doubt. 

He dreamed they were running through the darkness. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and the fear rose up from the pit of his stomach with such intensity that he wanted to scream.  Fear was not a feeling that Sam was accustomed to experiencing or admitting to but when he was in this dream, there was no escaping it.  It washed over him in unrelenting waves of terror and the threat that loomed in the back of his mind was no childish fear that one might experience hiding from a bully, this was a different kind of fear.  It was dark and powerful and it reeked of evil as if evil were something real not spoken about in churches or by the superstitious. 

This was real evil and it had to do with the dark denizens of the night who were almost always pursuing them across the dreamscape.

Wearing dark cloaks and moving through the trees like shadows, Sam could feel their presence encroaching upon him.  The cold icicle that ran up his spine had little to do with the chill of the night air and everything to do with his fear.  He could feel the earth under his bare feet and the sound of hooves beating against the dirt.  Leaves rustled in the branches of trees, shaken by the gust of wind moving across the land.  It seemed to grow stronger as dirt and fallen leaves became caught in the vortex of the gale and the woods ahead grew more sinister and dark.

"Come on Sam," the other said. "We've got to make for the river."

Sam turned to his companion and tried to speak but words left him when he saw the branches of a large shrub part at the sudden appearance of a black horse.  The animal's head reared up upon seeing them, its body raising off the ground as it stood on its hindquarters.  For a moment, the braying sound escaping it did not at all resembled the neighing of a horse but rather the screech of something terrible and vile.  Seated in the saddle, appearing even more fearsome than the steed itself was a figure cloaked in black. The fabric of its garment was blacker that the night and swallowed up all light around it.  There was no face that looked at them from beneath the hood of its cloak and Sam was struck by the irrational fear that if they were to pull it back, there would be horror beyond his ability to describe.

He felt a hand grab him and shout at him to run.  Blinded by terror, Sam ran following the voice as they tore through the woods, not caring about the branches that lashed at them as they race through the darkness.  All they cared about was the sound of horses in pursuit and the screeching that told them that the enemy was near.

"Don't look back Sam!" The voice shouted again. "Don't look back!"

Sam felt his heart about to explode in his chest and tried to obey the command. However, the fear was too much for him and it compelled him to turn. He looked over his shoulder unwisely and was confronted by the image of them, closing the distance.

The Nine, Sam thought unconsciously. They were called the Nine.

"SAM!" He heard the other shouting at him desperately. "Come on! Sam!"

***********

"SAM!"

Sam opened his eyes and found himself the center of attention as all eyes in the classroom were fixed upon him.  For a moment, he had no idea where he was and when his senses returned to him was rather grateful that he was sitting at his desk in school, not running for his life from some fading terror in his dreams.  Sam could feel beads of perspiration running down his forehead and took a deep breath in order to steady his pounding heart.  For a moment, he could do nothing but revel in the sensation of gratitude that he was safe and away from that nightmarish image even if the memory of it was fading fast in the waking world.

"Sam, I asked you a question," the voice demanded once more.

Sam found himself standing up to stare at the rather irate features of Mrs. Edlestein; his arithmetic teacher who had undoubtedly asked him a question while he had dozed off in her class.  Having no idea of what she had inquired of him, Sam could do nothing but look back at her blankly. Swallowing thickly, he tried to gather his composure so that he could offer her a suitable response but found it difficult to do so when the other students were sniggering at his floundering efforts.

"Could you repeat the question Mrs. Edlestein?" He asked after a moment.

The woman in her late forties with blond hair pulled into a severe bun stared at him from behind equally severe glasses and thinned her lips into a frown.  "I asked you Sam," she said with impatience, "what is five times two?"

"Ten?" Sam answered after a moment of thought.  Multiplication was not something he was good at and prayed that he would be spared the humiliation of being wrong.

"That's right," she replied, clearly unhappy that he had managed to answer her question after his unsatisfactory behavior. "Sit down."

Sam sat down on his seat, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment and was rather grateful when the bell rang and it was time to go home. While he did not remember the dream in great detail, it had unsettled him and he suddenly wanted very much to hear his mum's comforting words. Whenever he felt this way, she would wrap her arms around him and give him a little hug and a kiss on the forehead, telling him that nothing could hurt him when he was awake.  She would not allow it and when mum said things like that, Sam could very well believe it.

Gathering his schoolbag, he made the exodus with the rest of the class and entered the hallway.  Pip would be waiting for him in the playground and once he collected his brother, they would go to the front of the school and wait for mum to arrive to take them home. It was a ritual they practiced everyday and had been made a good deal smoother after mum's little talk with Aksel who now ensured that the Miller boys were given a very wide berth.

Emerging from the building, Sam cast his gaze across the manicured lawns of the school grounds and saw his younger brother playing with some other children on the monkey bars.  Pip was dangling off the ground when he caught sight of Sam and immediately waves enthusiastically at his approach. 

Climbing off the contraption, Pip knew that Sam did not like to linger when they had to be picked up mostly because mum worried if they were late and Sam hated seeing mum worrying about anything.   Pip found dad easier to understand even though he loved mum very much.  Their dad knew so many things and these were things he did not keep secret but chose to explain to Pip in detail.  He taught Pip that the world was very, very old and that there were no mysteries, just fact hidden. Pip loved watching his father work. He loved the way Frank would sit at the table with his books and stare endlessly at rocks that had no meaning for him but spoke to his father in a language of their own.  Sometimes his father tried to explain to him this strange conversation and though most of it was beyond his understanding Pip rather liked it that dad had taken the time to try.

As far as Pip Miller was concerned, his father was the smartest man in the world.

"What's the matter?" Pip asked as he grabbed his books and joined his brother beyond the playground area.  He could tell when Sam was upset and the slight shadow over his brother's face indicated to him that there was something amiss.

"I had that dream again," Sam explained because they were brothers and there were no secrets between them, well mostly anyway.

"Was I in it this time?" Pip asked, trying to sound understanding but managed only to appear enthused over his role in the drama.  Sam's dream sounded like an adventure but it was an observation Pip was reluctant to make to his brother who was clearly disturbed by them.

"No," Sam shook his head. "Just me."

There were moments when he could almost remember that he was not alone in the dreamscape but the sensation was too vague for him to articulate clearly.

"Are you okay?" Pip asked with concern.

"I'm fine," Sam lied, wishing very much to see mum so she could make him feel better.

They walked to the front of the school and sat on the stone bench that faced the street where they usually waited for her to arrive in the jeep.  Although it was late afternoon, it was still bright out and the street was busy.  People were moving up and down the sidewalk on their way to other places and the roads were filled with cars, honking at each other as they traveled to destinations unknown. Sam could hear sirens in the distance though he could not see the fire engines that made them. Like all children, the bright red trucks fascinated him and he craned his neck to catch sight of them as they went on their way to carry out their important jobs.  Unfortunately, the sound seemed to be heading away from them and so any opportunity to see them was lost.

"Look," Pip who was seated next to him on the bench pointed to the road. "It's a James Bond car."

Sam followed the direction of his brother's gaze and saw a sleek, dark vehicle that looked a great deal fancier than the one driven by the superspy, pulling up at the curb, not far from where they were seated.  The windows of the vehicle were tinted black and the chrome of its headlights and fender gleamed under the afternoon sky. It was a very impressive car Sam thought and wondered which one of his classmates was being collected by his parents in such grandeur.  Cars like this had chauffeurs, Sam was sure. On television, a man in a dark suit who said very little and went by the name of James almost always accompanied them.

The doors of the vehicle swung open on either side and curiosity held both the boys' gaze as the occupants emerged. Two pairs of men emerged from the open doors, all clad in dark suits, wearing hats and sunglasses. For a moment, Sam was struck by the memory of the Matrix and those frightening villains that had stalked Keanu Reeves for a good deal of the film. Something about them sent a chill through his bones and when he saw them stepping onto the kerb, the uneasiness he felt in his dream started to take on a more urgent shape.

Sam was trembling even though he did not know why.

"Sam," Pip turned to his brother, feeling the tremors in his skin since he was sitting next to Sam. "What's the matter?"

The mention of his name made one of the men turn sharply and stare at him even though they should have been too far away to be overheard. Yet Sam knew with a certainty he could not explain, that they had heard Pip's words. He felt his breath catch and was gripped with an irrational fear as the others turned to him as well, staring.  Suddenly, they were no longer walking towards the school but heading in Sam and Pip's direction. Sam watched their progress across the curb, watched them close the distance, their expressionless face fixed upon him and his brother.   They walked forward purposefully and Sam found the overwhelming urge to run rising up inside of him like froth spilling out of a champagne bottle.

Something inside him snapped.

"Let's go," he said getting off the bench, his fingers fumbling for the strap of his knapsack.

"Go where?" Pip stared at him, sensing none of the things that he did. "We're not suppose to go anywhere. Mum said we have to wait here for her. She'll be cross."

"PIP!" Sam barked. "We have to go now!"

Pip grabbed his bag, confused by the anxiety in his brother's voice but too accustomed to following Sam's lead to disobey.

Sensing that their quarry was about to run, the men in the dark suit bolted forward and closed the distance between themselves and the children before either could flee.  The Nazgul swept the children up in their arms easily, for they were very small and incapable of providing a formidable struggle though the older of the two certainly fought hard to break free. Although their number was incomplete, the Nine recognized one of the two and if their master had been here, the boy would have made a very nice gift to the dark lord.

Sam stared at the reflection in those dark sunglasses and suddenly, understood why he was so frightened.

Riders in black.

He did the only to be done by a child facing the knowledge that his worst nightmare had become a reality; he screamed.

************

"Faster Frank!" Miranda ordered, her eyes staring frantically out the windscreen, her fingers digging into the dashboard of the car as she leaned forward in her seat, as if that would bring her closer to her children.

"I'm going as fast as I can without getting us killed," Frank retorted promptly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.  He could understand Miranda's fear because the same panic was coursing through his veins as he directed their jeep through the meandering streets of Oslo's city centre. The idea of those creatures anywhere near his boys made Frank jam the accelerator almost to the floor of the vehicle, forcing the jeep to surge through the traffic with speed enough to kill should it collide into anything or anyone in its path.

Miranda did not speak because she was constantly craning her neck out of the window to seek out the roofline of the school that would indicate to her that they were nearing their destination. As the car drove past the tree-lined streets framing the businesses and shops in the area, Miranda could not dispel this feeling of blanket terror that gripped her insides. Those creatures had killed Hans without a second thought and were prepared to do the same to her and everyone else in the room save Frank.  Whatever their agenda was, Miranda was determined that her children did not become part of it.  If that thing had hated her with so much venom, she dreaded to think what it would do to Sam and Pip because she was their mother.

"Stop the car!" She barked when the school came into view and barely waited for Frank to pull the car to a stop before she jumped out of her seat into the sidewalk.  Miranda did not run, she broke into a full sprint and raced down the sidewalk, her blond hair following her like a banner of gold.  She could see the school rushing up to greet her and the bench where her sons usually waited for her to pick them after school coming into sight. She had little time to register the fact that it was empty when she heard Pip's terrified scream across the walk.

"MUMMY!"

Miranda froze in horror as she saw Sam and Pip struggling hard to escape the dark suited villains as they swept both her children into the black jaguar.  Her heart stop beating for a second and the panic that had been fraying the edges of her consciousness had risen up like bile inside her. The fear of seeing her children in the power of those creatures was even more terrifying than the ordeal she had endured at Belfast at the hands at the IRA. It drained the soul of the ability for reason and filled her with blind, paralysing panic.

"PIP!" She screamed as she saw her youngest being ushered kicking and screaming into the car.

Frank halted in his steps as he heard his wife cry out in a voice he had never heard her utter and was even more unbelievable in light of what he had seen her do earlier today. When he reached her side and saw what she did, he could understand her fear but Frank was able to surmount the wall of panic that had hindered her because his sons needed one of their parents to be in their right mind to act. 

"DAD!" He heard Sam shout before his son disappeared into the car and the slamming door muffled any more of his cries.

Running faster than he had ever run in his life, Frank raced towards the car and reached the vehicle just as its engines roared to life. He could hear Sam and Pip screaming from behind the glass, he could hear the pounding on the other side of the tinted window and felt the same black well of despair as Miranda when his efforts to open the door failed. Pulling hard at the handle, he would have torn it off its hinges if he possessed the strength but could not open it as it was locked from the inside. He was still wrestling with it when the car started pulling away from the kerb

"SAM! PIP!" Frank shouted impotently as he saw the dark vehicle speed away from him.  

Turning on his heels, Frank was not ready to give up, not yet.  He saw Miranda weeping and wished he could console her but there was no time for that, not if they wanted to help Pip and Sam.

"Mir!" He grabbed her hand and began dragging her towards the jeep. "We don't have time for this.  We need to follow that car if we're going to get them back."

"Oh Frank," she stammered, "they're gone!"

"They'll stay gone if you don't help me!" He said harshly, hating to be so brutal with her but their sons were in danger and this emotional display would not help them.

Frank's tone snapped Miranda out of her panic and she met his eyes as they reached the jeep. For a split second, she saw his fear, saw his own terrible panic at the possibility of losing their sons and knew that if he could contain it to do what was necessary, then she had damn well better do the same and help him.  He was right; recriminations and grief could come later. While there was still a chance to get them back, she had to pull herself together.

"You drive," she said as she climbed into the car.

Frank gave her a little smile and slid into the driver's seat.  Miranda pulled out the gun that was tucked in the waistband of her jeans and reached into her pocket to retrieve the spare shells she had put there when she left the house.  Loading the gun as he took the jeep away from the kerb, she wound the window all the way down and leaned out of the window to catch side of the dark Jaguar that had stolen away half their family.

"Can you see them?" Frank asked as he alternated glances between her and the road ahead.

"Yes!" Miranda exclaimed excitedly as she saw the Jaguar reaching the end of the street. "They're turning into the highway."

"Hold on!" He ordered as he jammed his foot on the accelerator and caused the engines beneath them to roar loudly.  Shifting the gearstick, the jeep surged forward through the maze of cars on the road, weaving in and out of the traffic with no thought of safety or rules for that matter.  Horns honked angrily at them while Miranda shouted at people to get clear.  When an obstruction on the road threatened to bring the car to a halt, Frank directed the jeep onto the sidewalk and continued driving. .

Miranda could still see the Jaguar and knew that they were closing the distance between the two vehicles. Frank's impressive if wholly illegal driving abilities was narrowing the gap between them and she knew that he was driven by the same instinct that she was.  She was retreated into the car when the jeep was forced back onto the road, slamming into a small Fiat as it crossed onto the tar. The other car veered off the road, ploughing into a newsstand on the sidewalk.  She hoped no one was hurt as newspapers went flying through the air and the entire structure collapse around the vehicle.  Frank hardly seemed to notice the commotion he was causing, intent only on reaching the black Jaguar.

He ploughed into a Mercedes and sent it skidding across the road to smash against another parked car, allowing the jeep to finally manoeuvre into position directly behind the Jaguar.  Frank could see the tinted glass and even though it was impossible to hear anything but the roar of engines and wind rushing past his ears, he swore he could hear Sam and Pip's small fists beating against the windows.  That sound was almost as paralysing to him as Miranda seeing her children in the hands of those monsters.

"Can you get a clear shot?" He demanded not at all thinking twice about making the request.

"I'll try!" She said taking a careful aim with the gun. 

Miranda was unafraid of whether or not she could hit the target. She had was more than capable of riddling the car with bullets but her hesitation was borne out of the fear that those bullets might hurt Sam or Pip. Aiming carefully, she trained her sights on the Jaguar's tires and pulled the trigger, hoping that at least one of the projectiles fired would halt the vehicles advance. Contrary to popular belief, it was an extremely difficult shot to make and as gunfire erupted, she saw the bullets creating sparks across the lower edge of the car.  Bullet holes appeared in the body and she heard the sound of ricocheting bullets impacting on the hubcaps.  However, none of this reached the tyres and the Jaguar was speeding up, being more than capable of outdistancing the jeep. 

Miranda kept firing, shredding the back of the car with more bullets, causing the boot to fly up like an open flap swaying against the wind.  The Jaguar was starting to pull away and Miranda felt her heart sink knowing that it had more than enough speed to escape.

"FASTER FRANK!" She shouted, continuing to fire, sending bystanders on the road fleeing to escape the deadly barrage while other cars on the road veered away from them causing more accidents behind them.

The Jaguar sped across an intersection and Frank revved the engines even further, sending the jeep across the juncture in close pursuit.  All he could see on the road was the car that was stealing his children away, nothing else registered, not until he heard Miranda screaming and the bellowing horn of a large truck about to slam into them. Frank tried to avoid the collision, spinning the steering wheel hard so that the jeep would be moving parallel to the truck instead of crashing into its side. He saw Miranda fall back into the seat next to him as the side of the jeep smashed into the truck and flipped over. 

There was a moment of confusion when the world seemed to spin and he recalled shouting at Miranda to hold on.  His head slammed into the back of his seat and the sound of glass shattering filled his ears.  The jeep rolled only twice but it was enough to cause significant buckling on the entire framework. Airbags immediately swelled to life within the car, protecting them from both serious injury in the violent tumbling. The jeep landed on its wheels once more with the horn blaring and the smell of oil and gasoline heavy in the air. They could hear no trickle of escaping fuel which was one consolation at least  Time seemed to slow as the car came to a standstill and for a few minutes there was only deathly silence within the ruined compartment where they were still trapped.

"Miranda," Frank croaked as he turned to his wife who appeared somewhat dazed. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she answered sedately and as Frank's vision cleared, he saw that she was not looking at him but rather past the shattered glass of the windscreen to the road ahead.  He did not have to ask what she was staring at because he could see for himself.  The widening gap between the wreckage of the jeep and the Jaguar was more than simple distance.  He felt his stomach hollow with the same agony that was reflected in her eyes when he saw the Jaguar was beyond their reach.

"Oh Frank," she started to sob and it was a very disconcerting sound coming from her. He had never known her lose control like this and the tears that washed her cheeks was almost as painful for him as knowing that he had been unable to stop those monsters from taking his children.

"We lost them," she wept, "we lost our babies."

Frank's jaw clenched as he wrestled with his own emotions, reaching towards her to offer what comfort he could from their terrible failure and hoping that she could offer him the same as well.

"We'll get them back Mir," he said hoarsely, his eyes glistening with moisture as he saw the Jaguar disappearing in the distance. "I promise you, we'll get them back."

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