Chapter IIX: Reflections of the Future
Grishnákh had nearly reached the other generals when he heard the defenders cry out again and the clash of weapons echoed across the battlefield again.
"Bangrok!"1
He slowed as he reached the command tent, then stopped as he noticed the two dark figures swathed in loose black cloaks leaning against a nearby tree. The taller figure stepped ominously from the shadows, revealing Turdú.
The Drow smiled smugly, then spoke in a sarcastically singsong voice, "So, the great war machine of the orc is stopped by two elves. What a surprise."
Grishnákh roared and clenched the bloody knife in his hand.
"The Noldor may have stopped me, dark elf," he growled, "but you are not one of them!"
The orc cocked his arm back, surprised at the lightness of the knife, then hurled it at his fellow general.
The smaller figure bolted from its position and plucked the blade from the air before it neared Turdú.
The figure, Dilotè, Turdú's captain, inspected the throwing weapon, and then smiled as she flicked the knife to Vrayon, who had just exited the tent. She pushed a strand of her long black hair from her eyes, then held a glittering black sword up to Grishnákh's neck.
Vrayon looked slowly from face to face, then to the knife. He raised one eyebrow, held up the knife, and licked the blood from it. He looked thoughtful, as if considering its taste, then raised his head.
"My comradesss," he hissed, looking coolly into the others' eyes, "could ve pleasssse focussss on ze humansss, not one each ozer?"
His eyes locked with Turdú's, "Order your men to move in."
The Drow raised his chin in defiance.
"Pleassse."
After a moment, Turdú drew his own black sword, then turned to Dilotè, and with a small motion of his hand, ordered her to lower her sword, which she reluctantly did.
The Drow's normally calm voice took on a harsh tone,"Noro'ammen."2
Vrayon smiled, then threw back his head and let out a shriek that chilled Grishnákh's blood, and no doubt the Drow, though they did not show it. With a flutter of wings, a horde of bats swirled to him, and he joined them with a pop. The swarm spun in a dark vortex, then whirled off toward the city.
Shaking his head, Grishnákh entered the command tent, where Garulf's growling bass startled him.
The wolfman stood. "Could you please try to act more civil? They look down on us and say we are naught but beasts. Your actions support their assumption."
Grishnákh growled in begrudging agreement.
Garulf took a step toward the orc, a sinister smile growing on his face. There was a flash of dark energy, and the normally pensive human was replaced with an eight foot tall, black furred wolf-like biped with muscles that rippled even more impressively than the Noldor's.
The creature's red eyes glowed, Let us prove to them that our brains match our brawn. Ready your warg riders.
Garulf dropped to all fours, admitting Grishnákh onto his back, then bolted from the tent, his eerie howl echoing through the forest, taken up by his men.
When Grishnákh added his roar and those of his kin to it, he felt elation beyond any other he had felt leading the countless armies he had.
We're coming.
Celebdraug swept upwards with her sword, blocking the attack of the uruk closest to her. The creature's sword jerked upward as the elf rebounded and twirled, striking off the head of another enemy before driving her sword back into her original assailant. Her eye's met Mordae's, and she grinned. The charge was such a surprise to the attackers that they had driven halfway through the oncoming swarm. The morale of the men and women along with them soared.
A thought entered Mordae's mind, a phrase his commanding officer from so many thousands of years ago had often told him during officers' training.
When the attack is going far too well, it is not luck; it is an ambush.
A staccato of pops split the sky like a roll of thunder as hundreds of vampire soldiers transformed above the defenders and dropped in atop them, blood red blades shimmering in the light of the torches.
As the crimson cloaks swirled to the ground, the screams of the dying men echoed across the battlefield. A man in front of Celebdraug took a dagger from a vampire straight through the top of his head, dropping him to the stony ground. His killer withdrew the blade, licked it, and then began advancing on her.
As it raised the massive sword in its other hand, Celebdraug bolted forward, far faster than the vampire had assumed her capable, and thrust her sword into the creature's chest. She felt a shudder run through the blade, and the vampire dissolved into ashes with an ear-piercing shriek.
Turning to attack another vampire, Celebdraug heard a sword ring behind her, and she whirled around just in time to see a Drow soldier crumpling to the ground, Mordae standing over him in a low defensive stance as the dark elf's comrades advanced.
Celebdraug grabbed a nearby orc and hurled it into the oncoming Drow, then launched herself in the air after it. She felt something slam into her while she was still off the ground, and she hit with a jarring thud as her assailant landed atop her. Celebdraug looked up into the blood red and black streaked eyes of a vampire.
The creature bared its teeth and reached for her throat, but she slid her hand up under him and jammed it into the vampire's ribs. Hissing, the vampire rolled to the side, reaching instinctively for its side. Celebdraug began to reach for her sword, but there was a bright flash, and the creature dissolved into ashes as Mordae's sword drove through its chest.
Celebdraug kicked back up to a standing position and called her sword to her, using the link she held through Illúvatar to her weapon. She began to thank Mordae, but he stopped her with a quick gesture and cried out to her in his mind.
Duck!
She dropped to the ground immediately, and Mordae leaped over her, knocking an orc rider from his perch and driving her sword into him as he fell.
He grabbed a hold of the reins and began attempting to turn the warg back to face its kin, but before he could, it raised itself onto its hind legs, something that wargs never did.
The creature, whatever it was, reached back behind itself and plucked Mordae from its back with what seemed like ease. The Noldor kicked the wolf in the gut as hard as he could, a blow that would kill any man or other elf, but the creature instead, doubled over slightly, and then stood again.
There was a spurt of flame as Celebdraug sliced the creature's arm that held Mordae off, dropping him to the ground. With a roar, the huge wolf raised its good arm and swung. There was a crack of dark energy, and the wolf transformed into a muscular humanoid wielding a massive battle-axe.
Celebdraug leaped backward over Mordae, who rolled toward the creature and swung up with his sword, slicing in half the assailant, which the Noldor now recognized as a lychen.
Mordae stood, sweat beginning to break out on his forehead, and looked at Celebdraug, who met his gaze.
This party just got a lot messier, she said with a grimace.
You said it.
1 An orcish swear word
2 Let's roll
