Chapter Four: John Black Jack

Barrazzev, astirde his black steed, bolted down the Great East Road. He cradled his lame arm gingerly as the hooves of his horse pounded on the stony ground. Wincing violently in his saddle, he recalled the words spoken by the interloper. They aroused a deadly cold that crawled through his flesh and sunk into his bones. And even more deadly to him the voice that spoke them. It was clear, full of power, and bereft of fear. His chief purpose was to waylay and test the strength of the fool. And he found him easily mastered and no real threat to his master's plans. He did not wish to stay and stand against the newcomer after he had uttered the name of Varda. It was like poison to him.

The merciless assassin urged his horse faster until the animal was frothing violently. Little compassion did he have for the creature. His cold heart was bare of charity and mercy… a trait that can only be conceived by spending years in the vile pits of the Necromancer. The warrior was met with a thrill of fear as he was assailed by the unwanted memories of those dark days.

Then there was good news.

The good news was there was a familiar black streak at the edge of his vision that successfully distracted him from his unpleasant thoughts.

The bad news was… there was a familiar black streak at the edge of his vision.

He pulled on the reins with such brutal ferocity that crimson blood poured from the gums of the lathered animal. He dismounted and left the poor animal there, heaving violently as it labored to breathe.

A large, wolf-like dog stood in the middle of the road, snarling as the dust settled. Barrazzev sneered distastefully at the animal and called into the eaves of the forest:

"Hail Jojikaz, or, as he prefers, John Black Jack, the Greatest Highwayman Middle-earth."

"Oh Barrazzev, how you flatter me, laughed a voice as a handsome man walked out from the woods. He wore all black, melting into the shadows as one. A smug smirk was on his beautifully carved face and he patted the dog on her head. "Hound couldn't resist the urge to-"

"I should kill you where you stand you filthy traitor," Barrazzev spat, starting toward him, but the good-looking highwayman held up a dagger between two fingers.

"It's so funny that you should say this to me… now when you are unarmed, wounded, tired and I am surrounded by five able men and a hound. Do not make unfriendly and empty threats now, dear friend."

"When the Dark Lord rises again, he will find you and you will beg for death… tongue-less, blind and deaf and-"

Black Jack rolled his eyes and tossed the dagger in his hand carelessly. It embedded itself in Barrazzev's bad shoulder. "You know I never miss Barry. Besides, for all you know, I am running errands for our lord up here in the North. Be on your way and leave me to mine."

"Well if you had allowed me to continue riding," growled Barrazzev reproachfully He looked into the eaves of the tress to see some archers and blades men smiling eerily at him. "What say you Jojikaz… an honest one on one duel to the death. I am already wounded…"

"Since when have I played fair?" asked Black Jack, smiling wickedly, and looking at his nails.

"You never had because you know you can't fend for yourself against me…"

"Then why should I play fair?"

Barrazzev sneered and sneered some more… but it did him no good.

"What is it you want?"

"Your stuff," he said simply. "But we'll leave you your horse so you can get to wherever it is you plan on getting so fast and be grateful. Titan over there is practically eating a branch he's so hunger. Hound's been getting his food lately."

"I know perfectly well what that dog means to you,'' Barrazzev said, smiling wickedly. "If anything happens to her…"

But Black Jack held up his dagger threatening.

"Leave a man his secrets."

"You are not a man."

"Yet still more so than you."

Much later that night, Barrazzev reached the eaves of the Trollshaws. They towered ominously over him the stars winked at him between clouds. It had been a day since he encountered his quarry and before he returned to his lord, he would pull one last trick. In the depths of the sunless woods there were camped servants that would do Barrazzev's bidding. Barrazzev smirked maliciously at their unwavering obedience, fearing the dark sorcery he possessed.

"There is a traveler heading East. Kill him,'' he ordered and after a brief description of Nalilothon, they were off to their post. He smiled grimly.

Let's hope Jojikaz isn't traveling east.