I stood in camp of Easterlings north of Mordor, where night was falling. The march here from Dol Gulder was not exactly pleasant, but now I had a chance to look upon plains again, the first thing that reminded me of home since I joined this army. Khâl explained to me on the way what the people of Mordor believed.
The Dark Lord Sauron was not only the leader of Mordor, Khâl told me in whispers, but their god, a mighty and terrible power that none could contest with. However unbelievable it was at first, their religion became more and more real as we approached Mordor. Through the mountains, I could see the top of some gigantic tower. Atop it, the Eye of Sauron, a blazing red phantasm, loomed over the Black Land. That Eye was a strange thing, a thing that both called me toward it and repelled me.
The march took us to the camp of the Easterlings. We arrived at sunset, when the Sauron worship took place. The gods I had known were Daemon gods and no longer mine, so I had no reason not to go. I persuaded Kazuo to come with me to the tent of worship, though he was open distrustful of the Sauron worship. "This reminds me of the god the Dwarves worship. They refuse to reveal anything about him to outsiders. There's no reason for secrecy and whispers unless they have something to hide"
I ducked into the large tent, a simple construction of poles and leather. Even as Kazuo was mumbling about the waste of time, I was thankful to be removed from that horrible Eye. Several more people, seemingly normal Easterlings like myself, slowly filtered into the tent and began standing around. I recognized the captain and Khâl elsewhere in the crowd. When the crowd stopped flowing in, three Men carried a platform to the side of the tent opposite the entrance.
Onto the platform walked someone I recognized: the archer Azire, one of the survivors of my last mission. However, she had removed the cumbersome metal armor and stood wearing a long black dress. She held up her hands and stood before the crowd.
"We gather together in the name of our Dark Lord, whose name is terrible." She picked up a small statue or Zarinde, or Varda to the Daemons. "Who are these gods? What have they ever done for you? You've prayed to them. How many times have your prayers been answered? You ask them for favors in exchange for sacrifices, but when have you ever gotten something in return for what you gave up?"
Her voice deepened as she continued. "Sauron is not a false god. You've all heard the children's stories about how the dead are judged by Manamo. Who has ever died and came back to tell this? Who knows what lies beyond the veil of death?"
"None but our Lord the Necromancer, who is the god of death. Unlike false gods, he rewards his servants. Surely you have heard of the Nazgûl. They were his first and most loyal servants, and they were given eternal life. For three thousand years they have lived, having mastery over death."
I stood listening, transfixed. Mastery over death? The very thought amazed me. Immortality was the Daemon's gift, the one thing they possessed that we never could. If we ceased to be subject to death...
"Behold, Sauron rewards his followers. Watch, and tremble at his might!" The room seemed to darken. Azire pointed a hand at the statue of Zarinde. She closed her eyes. "My Lord Sauron!" A harsh light flared up in the room with a sound like the crack of a whip, and the when the light died I was in the same tent, except gray smoke and a strange burnt smell hung in the air, and the statue of the goddess was blasted into several pieces.
Azire raised her arms once again and gestured around the crowd. "Who doubts the power of the Necromancer? Are there any who would rather follow a statue," she kicked one of the pieces, "than a god with real power?"
This power frightened me. Never in my life have a I saw anything so otherworldly. If Sauron could do this, what could he be but a god?
The Dark Lord Sauron was not only the leader of Mordor, Khâl told me in whispers, but their god, a mighty and terrible power that none could contest with. However unbelievable it was at first, their religion became more and more real as we approached Mordor. Through the mountains, I could see the top of some gigantic tower. Atop it, the Eye of Sauron, a blazing red phantasm, loomed over the Black Land. That Eye was a strange thing, a thing that both called me toward it and repelled me.
The march took us to the camp of the Easterlings. We arrived at sunset, when the Sauron worship took place. The gods I had known were Daemon gods and no longer mine, so I had no reason not to go. I persuaded Kazuo to come with me to the tent of worship, though he was open distrustful of the Sauron worship. "This reminds me of the god the Dwarves worship. They refuse to reveal anything about him to outsiders. There's no reason for secrecy and whispers unless they have something to hide"
I ducked into the large tent, a simple construction of poles and leather. Even as Kazuo was mumbling about the waste of time, I was thankful to be removed from that horrible Eye. Several more people, seemingly normal Easterlings like myself, slowly filtered into the tent and began standing around. I recognized the captain and Khâl elsewhere in the crowd. When the crowd stopped flowing in, three Men carried a platform to the side of the tent opposite the entrance.
Onto the platform walked someone I recognized: the archer Azire, one of the survivors of my last mission. However, she had removed the cumbersome metal armor and stood wearing a long black dress. She held up her hands and stood before the crowd.
"We gather together in the name of our Dark Lord, whose name is terrible." She picked up a small statue or Zarinde, or Varda to the Daemons. "Who are these gods? What have they ever done for you? You've prayed to them. How many times have your prayers been answered? You ask them for favors in exchange for sacrifices, but when have you ever gotten something in return for what you gave up?"
Her voice deepened as she continued. "Sauron is not a false god. You've all heard the children's stories about how the dead are judged by Manamo. Who has ever died and came back to tell this? Who knows what lies beyond the veil of death?"
"None but our Lord the Necromancer, who is the god of death. Unlike false gods, he rewards his servants. Surely you have heard of the Nazgûl. They were his first and most loyal servants, and they were given eternal life. For three thousand years they have lived, having mastery over death."
I stood listening, transfixed. Mastery over death? The very thought amazed me. Immortality was the Daemon's gift, the one thing they possessed that we never could. If we ceased to be subject to death...
"Behold, Sauron rewards his followers. Watch, and tremble at his might!" The room seemed to darken. Azire pointed a hand at the statue of Zarinde. She closed her eyes. "My Lord Sauron!" A harsh light flared up in the room with a sound like the crack of a whip, and the when the light died I was in the same tent, except gray smoke and a strange burnt smell hung in the air, and the statue of the goddess was blasted into several pieces.
Azire raised her arms once again and gestured around the crowd. "Who doubts the power of the Necromancer? Are there any who would rather follow a statue," she kicked one of the pieces, "than a god with real power?"
This power frightened me. Never in my life have a I saw anything so otherworldly. If Sauron could do this, what could he be but a god?