Chapter LIV: The Bigger They Come, the Harder They Fall
In a colossal, cavernous room built of cold gray stone, a lone figure stood, swathed in black robes with blood-red runes embroidered on the hem of the sleeves. The barren room was void of any decoration or structure save a single circular formation of stones in the exact center, twenty meters long and barely a half-meter high.
With a snap, a glowing red orb formed in the heart of the circle, rapidly expanding until it filled the entire disk with its crimson light. The radiance grew rapidly in intensity until, when the light seemed as though it could grow no brighter, the sphere collapsed on itself. Now, two-dozen Remnant soldiers stood where the globe had once been.
The dark figure began to walk forward, covering the distance to the troops in long strides, spreading his arms wide as he advanced.
"Welcome, brethren!" Mornië cried, his voice echoing off the harsh stone walls.
"Massster!" Vrayon's voice replied as the vampire General exited the circle. How Mornië always seemed to know when the vampire was coming never ceased to amaze the General, but he forced himself to remain composed. "I bring good tidingsss!"
The Drow slowed his progress. "The Noldor are dead?"
A hissing laugh resounded in reply. "I sssaid good, not exsssellent."
Mornië let out a bark of laughter, coming to a halt five meters from the assembly of creatures that had begun to file out of the ring.
Vrayon bowed low, dropping to one knee, then advanced to his Master's side, extending a clawed hand. "My lord."
The Drow let out a cry of joy, reaching eagerly for the faintly glowing gem in the vampire's hand, murmuring excitedly to himself in elvish.
"What isss zat I hear?" Vrayon teased, his black eyes glittering.
Mornië beamed at the General. "I apologize." The Dark Lord held the gem aloft, scrutinizing the liquid surface in the flickering light. His red eyes shot down to lock with Vrayon's. "This had better be genuine."
The vampire General grinned. "Plucked ssstraight from ze heart of Dol Guldur."
Mornië danced in a small circle, holding the Night Crystal high above his head. "Dost thou realize what this means?"
Vrayon shrugged, his grin widening.
"We are but a mere step away from completing our primary objective!" Mornië shouted. "All we must do now is acquire the rings of the Noldor, and the others that they carry, and we are complete!"
He drew up suddenly. "Nay, we need not wait! The Noldor are coming here, where we will slay them and take their rings! Vrayon, in but a few hours, we shall be the uncontested rulers of Middle Earth!"
"It isss a gloriousss night."
The Drow put on arm around the vampire's shoulders and began to head toward the massive door marking the exit from the room. "Well done, brother."
Forty meters behind the pair, Garulf turned slowly to Grishnákh, who let out a low growl.
"I really hate that bastard," the orc snarled.
The Lychen nodded emphatically. "Both of them."
Draylen stumbled back to Celebdraug's side, deflecting the stray axe strikes aimed at his head as he did so. The vampire halted as he reached his friends' side, nodding curtly to Niphredil, who had a slightly dazed look in her green eyes.
"So, who woke up Lynza's mother?" Draylen inquired, pointing toward the scarlet glow and the origin of the guttural growls.
"I think your mom fell down," Mordae replied, "And the earthquake woke up Lynza's."
Draylen grinned and nodded slightly in the elf's direction, surrendering the win, at least for the current round of insults.
"What in Udun is that thing?" Celebdraug growled, absently beating down another dwarf infantry soldier with her blade.
With a triumphant shout, the Remnant/Tvhesta forces broke through the dwarf army at the focal point of the wedge that had been driven into the soldiers. The gap expanded at an incredible speed as more vampires entered the hole, and then began flowing in a river of black from the far end of the army, flanking the dwarf soldiers. The dwarf chant picked up speed, growing in intensity as the momentum increased. Suddenly, the chant ceased, and a deafening cry burst from a distant tunnel.
At the exact same moment, an enormous gate at the far end of the hall where the battle had not yet reached exploded open, revealing a massive dwarf – barely over five feet tall, but exceptionally large for one of the generally diminutive creatures. In his hand, he held the derivation of the red glow; a massive war hammer that glowed with an unearthly color.
The reason for the glow was made evident as the dwarf King began to charge forward, raising the weapon over his shoulder. The head of the enormous weapon appeared to have been made entirely from molten lava, liquid fire that swirled slowly in the darkness as the warrior surged forward. The magma boiled and churned with the rage of the King in a perfect cylindrical shape, held by a forging power unknown even to the elves.
The elves and vampire leaders locked eyes seeing the thoughts of the others; fear in Niphredil's, confusion in Zalok's, the assured confidence in the Noldor and vampire Generals' eyes.
As one, Lynza, Draylen, Celebdraug, and Mordae lunged forward, sprinting down the gap between them and the gargantuan dwarf.
The King hit the vampire lines like a tidal wave, his flaming hammer beating dozens of the fanged creatures into ashes with massive shockwaves that emanated from each stroke. Attempts to attack him were completely fruitless, the brave only becoming the dead.
Mordae reached the King first, lunging forward with his glimmering yellow blade. The dwarf deftly sidestepped the attack, swinging the molten hammer with all his might. With all his strength, Mordae attempted to correct his attack, which the elf knew immediately had been far too hasty and overdone. The massive head slammed into the Noldor's right hand, splintering the bones and charring the appendage horribly.
Lynza let out a hiss and sprinted harder, racing past Celebdraug – who was next in line – and vaulting off of a fallen boulder, hurling over the head of the dwarf King. Smoothly, the creature pointed the hammer at the flying vampire and barked a single word in Khazdul. A glittering shockwave burst from the head, flinging Lynza another ten meters into the air, where she slammed into one of the enormous pillars and slid to the bottom, lying motionless.
Draylen extended his staff just in front of Celebdraug, slowing her enough for him to overtake her. As he stepped in front of her, attempting to shield her from the attack, he hurled his staff spear-like toward the King, who held up a hand, splintering the weapon with another shockwave that hurled Draylen back into the elf maiden.
Stay here, Celebdraug growled, shoving the vampire backward into Niphredil, who had been hanging back slightly, not really willing to do battle with the creature before them. The Silvan caught Draylen, then hurried to Mordae's side, where she knelt, assisting the dazed elf in his attempt to rise from the ground. Angrily, the vampire complied with the Noldorian girl's order, turning to face the few dwarves that had attempted to flank the small group.
Celebdraug slowed to a walk as she drew within ten meters of the dwarf King, who grinned raggedly at her, revealing disgustingly yellowed teeth hidden behind his scraggly beard and dirt stained face.
The elf knew that the King was no more powerful than any other mage or mighty creature she had battled; the friends had simply underestimated him. It would take more than a swift blade to fell this foe. She prayed that Lynza would recover, knowing that Mordae would more likely have more of a bruised ego than serious physical injury.
Thrain III, the King of Khazad, beckoned for the elf to come to him, ready to strike her down as he had her friends. However, she did not lunge irrationally toward him; rather, she deliberately, ominously, pointed her flaming broadsword at him, the two fiery weapons throwing a red glow over the battlefield.
Extending one hand, Celebdraug hurled a small ball of flame toward her opponent, who batted it away with a medium sized shockwave. The elf nodded sagely, and the dwarf beamed in response, raising his massive hammer. With her free hand, Celebdraug mimicked the beckoning gesture of her foe, which lunged forward with a roar, the molten head arcing down toward the elf.
Celebdraug nimbly sidestepped the blow, then executed a back handspring, taking her safely out of the range of the shockwave that radiated from the strike zone. The dwarf glared at her, then charged again, this time swinging horizontally. With a slight hop, the elf leaped over the attack, swinging down with her blade as she twirled. Thrain held up his free hand, releasing a shielding shockwave that deflected the blow, and Celebdraug herself.
The Noldor hit the ground on her back with a grunt, then kicked onto her feet once more, her eyes flaming. Playtime was over; the game had become tiresome. Narrowing her eyes, Celebdraug charged forward, closing the distance between elf and dwarf almost instantaneously.
The flaming blade sang as it whipped in a single blur of motion in rapid arcs, bouncing wildly off hurriedly thrown shockwave shields. Spitting molten rock, the gigantic hammer whirled in desperate counterattacks, all of which the elf dodged easily. As the head came down toward her, Celebdraug raised her sword to meet the blow, intending to deflect the heavy weapon over the head of the King. Instead, her blade passed through the burning head as if it were water, not slowing the momentum a single iota, forcing Celebdraug to dodge at the last second.
The shockwave hurled the elf high into the air, sending bright red flashes into Celebdraug's vision. Maintaining control despite the pain, the Noldor tucked into a tight ball, then released a sheet of flame that enclosed Thrain in a burning cage. Rolling to absorb the impact, Celebdraug hit the ground, rose and lunged into the center of the inferno. Her eyes met the fear-filled black globes of the dwarf just as the burning blade blasted through his plate armor with a hiss. The elf's gaze did not waver as she deftly retracted her jab, swept her sword in a massive arc, and decapitated her foe.
With a groan, the ground beneath the battling armies began to shake, throwing many of the combatants to the ground. A deep, bone-shaking roar grew as if from the bowels of the earth, felling rocks from the roof and collapsing whole sections of the walls. There was a loud explosion, and then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the earthquake ceased, leaving a pile of glowing embers at Celebdraug's feet.
Exhaling deeply, Celebdraug closed her eyes. "Sina tyele vell tellae harana nogathrim; ie'vell cam a dae aloril.1"
Mordae struggled to his feet, his gaze riveted on his cousin as she slew the creature before him. The elf placed a giant hand on Niphredil's shoulder.
"I'm fine."
"But your hand..." the Silvan began to protest.
"I've had worse."
Celebdraug sheathed her weapon in a single maneuver, then tossed her hair over her shoulders in mockery of Mordae's new move. Her cousin grinned brightly at her friendly scorn, then raced to Lynza's side at the base of a half broken pillar.
Kneeling beside the vampire, the elf reached out with his left hand – though he had dismissed the injury in front of Niphredil, Mordae could not feel his right hand, much less bear to observe the damage done – and touched Lynza's forehead lightly.
The vampire girl's dark eyes flickered open, gazing blearily at the elf's face.
"Blood of the ancients..." Lynza groaned, rising to her elbows where she lay.
"I know, what a face to wake up to," Mordae quipped. "I apologize. Are you alright?"
"I feel like Draylen just sat on me."
The elf shook his head with a muted smile. "You look like it, too."
"Thanks." Lynza began to sit up, wincing at the pain in her stomach and chest. She let out a gasp as her eyes fell on Mordae's charred hand.
"What happened?" she cried, reaching for the wounded arm.
"Celebdraug spit on me," Mordae explained, using his good arm to pull Lynza gently to her feet.
"Only because that poor dwarf looked at your face," Celebdraug countered, coming to a halt beside the pair. The elf gestured to the smoking ashes. "See what happened to him?"
Draylen trotted happily to the others' side, placing one hand gingerly on Celebdraug's shoulder. "Nice job."
The girl grinned. "Thank you. I couldn't have done it without your backup, though."
"Oh, you're just trying to make me feel better."
"Pretty much."
Niphredil bounded to the remains of the dwarf, searched through the ashes, and then rose triumphantly, the ring glowing in her hand. The Silvan raced to the others, passing Zalok as she ran.
The vampire glared first at the Noldorian girl, then the glowing ring, and then back at the elf that had perfectly evaded the entire plan. With a hiss of rage, the Lieutenant began to charge.
One by one, the dwarves began to lay down their axes, tears in the eyes of some warriors. It was over; their empire had let out its final gasp, and had been smothered by the others. The Remnant/Tvhesta soldiers hurriedly began to box in the survivors, staves herding them together.
Ravnor cursed to himself. He had known the plan would never succeed; you could trust no race but the pure, the vampires and the Drow.
As he passed his second in command, he hissed orders. "Come vith me. Bring ozersss, bowmen. Have ze dwarvesss exsssecuted."
The Lieutenant saluted and rushed to carry out the orders of his superior.
"Congratualtionsss," Ravnor hissed as he approached the cluster of elves and Tvhestan vampires. "I have never ssseen sssuch disssplay of ssskill with a blade or commanding an army."
"Thank you," Lynza replied warily, noting that Ravnor's attention seemed oddly diverted. "Perhapsss ve shall vork togezer again sssome day."
The other vampire grinned. "Unfortunately, I do not zink zat vill be posssible."
Niphredil's shriek echoed through the now calmed battle hall.
"What in Udun?" Mordae roared as Zalok wrapped one muscular arm around the Silvan girl's neck and placed the other, in which shone a vicious looking dagger, over her heart.
"Do not move, elf, or your friend dies," the Tvhestan General warned.
In a blur of chaotic motion, dozens more vampires rose from hiding around the pillar, bows and vrylna aiming steadily at the group. Ravnor swept behind Celebdraug and placed a dagger across her throat, hissing, "Move and die."
Though she had no doubt that she could kill her attacker, Celebdraug did not move, for Niphredil's sake. The Silvan elf's face had drained completely of color, her green eyes pleading and filled with fear.
Mordae had drawn his broadsword with his left hand, and he waved it back and forth between Draylen, Ravnor, and Zalok.
The elf's yellow eyes, cold once more, locked with Lynza's. He could scarcely comprehend that after all she had said and done, it was still a lie. Mordae had not trusted her at the beginning, and now, he knew that his instincts had been correct.
Yet, something in Lynza's eyes spoke to him. They appeared cold and hard on the outside, but deeper, he could see pain and confusion.
Mordae, listen to me, her voice echoed in his head alone.
Why? the elf growled in response.
I have even less of an idea of what is happening here than you do. Just play along with it.
Illúvatar, guide my choice.
"You filthy, rotten, sun-worshiping demon!" the giant elf screamed at Draylen stepping angrily forward. "After all we've done together, this?!"
The other vampires tensed, ready to fire, but fear shone in all of their gazes.
What in Udun are you doing? Draylen hissed at Mordae.
I wish I knew, came the reply.
"The whole thing was a trap, then?" the elf wondered aloud.
Ravnor nodded smugly. "Zisss entire battle wasss desssigned to kill you and your cousssin. Unfortunately, you two have a knack for sssurviving. I did not know zat it vent asss high in ze Tvhesssta as Lynsssa and Draylen, but Vrayon isss a very coersssive man. He can accomplish great thingsss if he sssetsss hisss mind to it."
Mordae locked eyes with Zalok. No confusion was reflected in the dark pools, only hatred and anger. "Evidently."
"And now," Zalok coaxed into Niphredil's ear, "If you vould give usss ze ring, my dear."
As if in a trance, the Silvan released her grip on the precious item, dropping it into the vampire's hand.
"Very good," Zalok hissed. "Lynza, if you and Draylen could pleassse ssstep out of ze sssircle now, I vill order ze men to fire."
"My pleasssure," Lynza replied, walking calmly to Ravnor's side, flanked by Draylen, who clearly was somewhat lost.
Ravnor shoved Celebdraug forward, then stepped back, allowing another vrylna soldier to fill in the link of the circle where he had stood.
With a flash of black robes, Lynza whipped her staff in a massive arc, slicing through four of the archers in front of her. Catching on, Draylen vaulted over his cousin, snatched Ravnor's daggers from his hands, and then plunged them into two more of the Remnant soldiers.
Mordae moved with the speed of a bolt of lightning, thrusting his blade through Niphredil's shoulder and into Zalok's heart. With a shriek, the vampire exploded in a cloud of ash that rained over the Silvan, who stood frozen with fear.
Celebdraug leaped into the air and slashed hard with her weapon, brutally felling another half dozen of the vampire archers. Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine, and she turned slowly as Ravnor's voice echoed over the din.
"Freessse."
Eight meters from the elf – out of blade range, but not lizcan – the Remnant Captain held a vrylna pointing straight at Celebdraug, a smug grin on his face.
The other combatants ceased their struggling instantly, save Mordae, who snapped the neck of the vampire he held in a headlock, and then froze.
Ravnor glanced coolly from the elf to Lynza, who shrugged innocently.
"I have no idea vhat isss going on here," the Captain hissed, "But I am sssure zat Vrayon vill sssort it out after I bury your bodiesss."
The sound of thin metal slicing through the air rang over the silence, followed by the clatter of a weapon hitting the ground.
As Ravnor's ashes piled at her feet, Niphredil gazed in wonder at the trembling blade in her hand.
The Silvan glanced up in awe at Mordae and Celebdraug. "I did it."
"Better late than never," Celebdraug replied sarcastically.
Gathering his thoughts, Mordae reached down, snatched the lava-headed hammer from its resting place, then rolled to Lynza's side.
"Get us out of here."
Niphredil tossed the dwarf ring to Celebdraug – who dove into the rapidly expanding crimson globe – and then, with a crack, the Generals – and Niphredil – disappeared, leaving the Remnant, Tvhesta, and Khazad armies to gradually disengage and embark back to their homes, broken and battered.
In the darkness of the torture chamber, Mornië's red eyes lit up suddenly.
"They are here."
1 Thus ended the last king of the Dwarves; at the hand of an elf maiden.
