Chapter V: Darkness Falls
The two elves made their way down the corridors of the Venyarohirrim palace, following the directions that Deorwine had given them to the Great Hall. Just before they entered the Hall, a well-dressed man stopped them with a small gesture of his hand. He turned and bellowed into the hall.
"Their royal majesties and saviors of our people, Celebdraug Nauraumo and Mordae Conanoren!"
"Cool," Mordae whispered, "Announcer guy."
"Yeah," Celebdraug answered as another man began to move toward them and gestured toward the table at which Lèofa sat, "We're all special now."
The elves followed the man toward the table, and Lèofa greeted them with a smile.
"Welcome, my friends! I hope you brought your appetites, for you shall soon see the hospitality of the Venyarohirrim!"
"Indeed," Celebdraug said as she took a seat beside him.
He smiled, stood, and raised his hands toward the crowd. The clear sound of trumpets split the chatter, and the room fell silent.
"My good people! We gather tonight to celebrate my freedom and to honor these two brave warriors who have saved us! Without them, many of our kindred, including myself, would be rotting in a Fellowship prison as we speak! In addition, they have not only saved us this once, but have pledged to stay in our great city and help us battle the scourge of Belgor!"
Thunderous applause rang through the chamber.
Mordae leaned toward Celebdraug, I didn't agree, did you?
Not to my knowledge, she responded.
Mordae shrugged and began to turn back to Lèofa, but he stopped as Celebdraug's eyes widened.
He followed her gaze to one of the large windows high above the floor of the Hall, where a dark figure crouched, black bow in hand.
"Rac1," Mordae hissed.
A whining buzz sounded over the applause, immediately silencing the assembly. Lèofa was hurled to the side, where his body crashed into a table, splintering it. Mordae hurried over and began to reach down to help the king up. He stopped as he noticed the long, crimson arrow protruding from Lèofa's neck.
"Rac."
Celebdraug was out of her chair and sprinting toward the window before Lèofa's body even hit the ground. The elf snatched the sword from a nearby guard's sheath as she flew past, causing him to cry out and stumble backward. Celebdraug was not sure where Mordae was, but on she charged, surging onward like a bolt of her cousin's lightning.
Reaching the window, Celebdraug leaped the ten meters up to the sill as though hopping over a small rock. The warrior rolled to the side and crouched, scanning the blackness of the night. Seeing nothing, Celebdraug began to crawl swiftly toward where she had seen the assassin flee. As the elf passed the last window of the Hall, she heard the flutter of a cloak behind her and whirled, sword flashing.
The sound of metal on metal rang through the night, followed by a hiss, "Celebdraug, you dwarf-lover, it's me!"
Celebdraug paused, then swung again.
"What was that for?" Mordae hissed.
"Calling me names."
Mordae sighed and pushed her sword back with his dagger that he had grabbed from another guard. "Where did he go?"
Celebdraug pointed with her sword, and the two elves raced to follow the fleeing figure.
Cuthalion, hired mercenary of the Drow, pressed himself up against the backside of a tower as he ran. He paused and caught his breath, then peered around the corner. Three guards ran his direction, heading for the Great Hall, as he had hoped. The Drow smiled, and then nocked three arrows on his bow. He stepped out from his cover, in a crouch, and fired all three arrows, one at a time. The guards' bodies rolled, and then lay still. Cuthalion smiled again. Infidels.
He reslung his bow and continued his run. Hearing a noise below him on a second wall, the assassin stopped. Making a quick calculation, Cuthalion leaped silently from the ledge, landing perfectly atop another guard. With a quick jerk of his legs, he snapped the guard's neck, and then let the body sink to the ground. He began to smile again, but his smile dissipated as two cloaked figures dropped beside him from above, weapons flashing.
Mordae attacked furiously, his daggers hissing through the air. The Drow's reflexes saved him from a bloody fate, but he still received many slashes across his chest from the Noldor's blades. Cuthalion drew his own daggers and counterattacked, his elven daggers shattering one, then the other, of Mordae's weapons.
Celebdraug lunged forward and stabbed at the dark elf's back, but Cuthalion whirled around and cut the blade from her stolen sword. She swore; the drow's weapons were far superior to the humans', and the elves were at a loss for their own. Celebdraug watched helplessly as the assassin turned back to her cousin and began to advance menacingly toward him.
Mordae stepped back into his fighting stance, bending his knees and raising his hands. He glared into his opponent's eyes as Cuthalion advanced, then attacked. Spinning to the side, Mordae grabbed the Drow's wrist and drove his elbow into him. There was a crunching sound as Cuthalion's wrist shattered, and the assassin hissed in pain
Mordae spun in a half circle and kicked at the dark elf's head, but Cuthalion ducked and thrust his good hand's knife into Mordae's calf. The elf gritted his teeth as his legs gave out, and he dropped to his knees. Cuthalion stabbed his dagger into Mordae's side, then pulled it out and prepared to slit his throat. Just before the knife sliced, however, he was driven back as Celebdraug tackled him, leaving Mordae to collapse, struggling to draw breath, his vision swimming.
Cuthalion struggled against her, reaching desperately into his cloak. His hand found the small, glowing orb he carried, and he pulled it out, just as Celebdraug wrapped her hands around his neck. As spots began to fill his vision, he hurled it into the air, where it exploded with a flash and a loud crack. He reached for his dagger that lay beside him, then swung it at Celebdraug's arms. She leaned back, letting the blades skim past her, then twisted the drow's arm back, driving the dagger into his chest.
Cuthalion let out a gasp as light flashed in his vision, quickly covered by the returning spots as the Noldorian girl lifted him by his throat. With a grunt, she hurled him the three meters over the edge of the wall. Mercifully, the Drow blacked out as he plummeted. Celebdraug stood silently for a moment as she listened, then set her jaw as the thud of the assassin's body sounded over the plain.
She whirled and bent to help Mordae, who was struggling to his feet. The wounded elf put his arm around Celebdraug's shoulder, and she lifted him, quickly moving toward a nearby door. Finding it locked, Celebdraug kicked it in and hurried inside. Glancing quickly around, the elf maiden realized that they were standing exactly where they wanted to be, the armory.
"How's your side?"
Mordae looked up at her from his kneeling position on the floor and laughed weakly. "Been better, thanks," he whispered, then he sighed. "Get down."
"What?"
He yelled this time, "Get down!"
Celebdraug nearly cried out as an arrow struck her back, hurling her into her cousin.
"Damn it," she hissed, rolling to the side and grasping at the arrow.
"Hold still, it's not in too deeply," Mordae attempted to console her, placing his hand on the shaft. "Mi... met... neled!2."
He pulled swiftly, and then covered the wound with a piece of cloth from his shirt. The elf looked up and gritted his teeth as a faint whistling sound began to grow. He lunged for the door, slamming it shut just in time; a moment later, the thud of several more arrows slamming into the wood echoed through the armory.
The panicked assembly that was fleeing the Great Hall stopped in horror as a shrill hiss filled the air. Those who regained their wits scattered, sprinting for cover. The others, who were still frozen, were not as lucky.
Mordae inspected the arrow he had pulled from Celebdraug's back. He looked up slowly into her eyes, and said the one word that confirmed their worst fears.
"Drow."
The screams of the dying men echoed in the elves' ears as death rained down from above.
1 An elvish curse
2 One, two, three
