Amelia brought the chiropter around for another flyby high above the large tempest. She did not like this at all, but the strange facility below did not seem to have any areal defences that could penetrate the storm as they had survived the last two sweeps.
"Still nothing?" she asked Storandor, who divided his attention between the instruments and the thunder in the dark clouds below.
"The storm creates far too much interference, I get nothing from below" he answered, clearly vexed. "And it has not diminished since we first came upon it. Maybe it is not natural? Maybe it's the purpose of that tower?"
Amelia just shook her head, that was not for them to theorize about. After a couple of minutes, they had crossed the area again.
"72B," she said, addressing the servitor behind them. "Has the sensor data been delivered to the Arch-Militant?"
"Data package… 1… to… 43… sent to external communications tower 2-WT." the servitor droned out, testing Amelia's and Storandor's patience with its slow sentences. "Confirmation received for data package… 1… to… 43. Arch-Militant not recognized receiver."
"Great" Amelia said to Storandor. "Then we have done what we came here to do."
But before they had time to leave the area their vox caster chimed.
"I bet they want us to fly closer to the clouds and try again. Or maybe into them." Storandor said, half-jokingly as he activated it.
"This is Arch-Militant Yltor Morrvul to recon craft Septima." A deep and steady voice declared from the vox caster. "The analysis of your data states that an aerial drop through the cloud cover would not be advised."
Storandor's wide open eyes met Amelia's and he mouthed 'aerial drop'. The Arch-Militant continued without awaiting answer.
"I want confirmation from you with real eyeballs on the area, what's your take?"
Amelia activated the vox in her helmet before she really knew what to answer. How did you address the actual Arch-Militant of the expedition. She looked at Storandor who just strongly shook his head.
"The storm is unnaturally localised and intense, Arch-Militant." she said after her hesitation. "I would not advise any crossing, due to the mountainous region and the potential electrical damage to your crafts."
She turned her vox off and took forceful breaths, she had just spoken to fragging Morrvul himself. She felt Storandor give her a supportive hand on the shoulder.
"Heard and understood, Septima. Thank you for your service. Stand by for new orders" The Arch-Militant answered after a pause. They waited in tense silence as they left the storm behind and flew over the empty plains to the north. The sun was soon setting in the west, colouring the sky in a way not seen on their metropolised homeworld in their lifetimes. The smog did not let it. After some minutes, the vox caster crackled again.
"Recon craft Septima" they heard the familiar voice of their flight commander say, her accented speech clear in the caster. "Your new orders are to support Tetrarch Tertia for their incursion. They have bearing five-fourteen-four, central relative." She continued, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "They will fly in by the valley with the black wall, beneath the thunderstorm. You'll be their vanguard, identifying potential threats." Everyone was silent till the commander gravely added "the Emperor protects."
"Acknowledged, commander. The Emperor protects." Amelia answered in a daze and deactivated the vox caster. Storandor swore.
"So, we'll be their warning them by blowing up." He added exasperated after holding silent through the transmission. He put a hand over his face. "I hope you're as good a pilot as you think."
"Maybe we don't have the armour, but we have the speed." Amelia tried while giving him a poisonous glare. "I'll get you home yet."
Storandor just looked ahead trough his fingers.
Amelia turned the chiropter towards the sunset and in the direction of the Tetrarch. They were soon over the large river, both looking up into the sky above. It was not hard to spot the heavily armed and armoured Tetrarch lander descend, still with the flames from atmospheric entry around it. They must have already been on the way, before even the day's first package was sent. Powerful thrusters broke the decent slowly and the Tetrarch started accelerating to the valley south east of them. A squadron of Vulture gunships came after the Tetrarch and formed up in a defensive formation around the flying fortress. It was an impressive sight to be sure, the Arch-Militant did not skimp on the resources for the mission.
Amelia circled the formation while dropping down to their altitude. The formation flew low, following the landscape. It felt wrong to be this close to the ground after surveying the continent from kilometers above the surface. Amelia could not help but stare at the many canons and missile tubes jutting out from all over the Tetrarch's armour. The danger the weapon systems posed reminded her of protocol, even if it was overdue. She reactivated the vox, ignoring her indignant sensor operator.
"Tetrarch Tertia, this is recon craft Septima" she said, professionally. "We are coming down on your starboard side. Awaiting orders." The answer did not wait.
"Affirmative Septima, formation Harpoon. You are the tip." A voice ordered, the captain of the Tetrarch Amelia presumed. She acknowledged and accelerated past the formation while her mind raced to remember the Harpoon. What even was that? She hoped the others would adjust to her and flew towards the valley coming up at the horizon.
"You have to be further ahead" Storandor corrected her, watching the radar between their seats. "The tip is meant to… no matter. Quickly now, add 2 kilometers at least to the Tetrarch." Amelia followed his suggestion and saw the gunships forming up in a long, loose formation between her and the flying fortress.
The wall in the onset of the valley was close now and she felt her muscle tense around the controls, adrenaline pumping. Storandor's instrument had his full attention for once. She saw small figures moving at the wall below as they went past it. She quickly put one hand on the lever above her head, ready to release the countermeasures and roll out of the way of anything incoming. But nothing came. They saw the end of the valley and the volcano far away beyond. The sides of the valley were filled with small, primitive forts in stone. Small fires were lit everywhere.
"The ones on the wall weren't humans" Storandor said suddenly from his screens. "They looked like some kind of mutants or something." He looked up at Amelia, clearly perplexed. "The sensors do not identify anything of note from the valley or the buildings in it, not even mechanical vibrations or…"
Storandor was interrupted by a sudden flash and the craft shaking. Then everything went black in the chiropter. The silence of the jet engines deafening.
"We were hit by frigging lighting!" Amelia shouted as she popped open the instrument panel and started generating activation power by the wheel inside, her training overtaking her chock.
"Emergency upload of fault and flight log" 72B droned in the darkness behind them. "Anything verbal to add before crash?"
"Come on come on come on come on!" Storandor urged beside her as the nose of the chiropter slowly dipped as they quickly lost speed.
The emergency system came online and Amelia shut the panel hard, gripped the controls and tried dragging the nose up, mostly with raw willpower. The jet engines coughed and slowly started generating thrust. Beside her Storandor held his harness with white knuckles and prayed silently.
Amelia screamed jubilantly as she felt the G forces as they slowly turned upwards far too close to the ground. Storandor joined the second later.
"The Emperor does protect!" he screamed elated.
Their recovery had taken them around in time to see the two gunships closest behind them crash and another one being hit by a lighting bolt from the clouds above. They both fell silent, looking on as their colleagues fell and died. Their Vultures' wings made for carrying weapons and not generating lift, giving them no chance.
"Tetrarch from Septima!" Storandor shouted into the vox. "Three gunships lost to lightning. Emperor damn this place, four lost to lighting! Do not cross the wall!"
Amelia turned the chiropter back towards the wall, accelerating and going as low as she dared, zig zagging between cliffs and hills.
"We've visual" the professional response came. "All units fall back outside the engagement area."
They passed beneath the slower, retreating Vultures as another was hit and fell. In front of them the Tetrarch had not had time to cross the wall yet and was slowly turning around, the belly guns underneath it purging the black wall of all life in a storm of fire and shrapnel. Amelia followed the valley side up and exited the area in a steep ascent far above the wall. Below them the heavy guns of the Tetrarch had started giving the wall a broadside along its entire length. But no matter the fury, it had little effect on the strange, black wall.
They breathed out, relishing the empty sky after their very short trip into the blackened area.
"To all craft leaving the engagement area" a new, serious voice crackled on the vox. "Land immediately on the flat hilltop to your southwest."
"Who was that?" Amelia asked while she trying to identify the hilltop, "and why should we land so close? Or at all?" This mission just became even stranger, and she did not now how many more surprises she could take.
"My guess is that that was the regimental commissar" Storandor answered gravely.
§ § §
Denethor leaned back and looked sceptically at Krishan and then at Vivian for confirmation.
"So, you mean to say that you have come from old Númenor to reclaim the lost colonies." He begun. "You must know that it has been an age since this was even a consideration. The peoples here know you only as legends or not at all. It is said you sank in the ocean."
Vivian let Krishan continue the discussion, he had gripped the basics of the dialect quite quickly. Of course, not with anything near a correct accent but that did not stop him from trying to control the meeting. They were all three around the table trying to keep it civil, but there was no denying the underlying conflicts of interest that had surfaced over the dinner. She instead hid her face in her wine goblet while examining the white halls they sat in. They seemed to like their white stone in this city, it was not marble, but she guessed they had lots of it.
"Don't think about the years separating us" Krishan tried, his sharp eyes clear with conviction. "Think about how we can benefit each other. You could be the unopposed ruler, lifting Gondor up from this age of decline. Bowing only to the governor."
Denethor answered with a look of contemplation but Vivian had learned to recognise the man's façades. He could probably count the times he had bowed in his life on his fingers. He was too cunning for her taste and a great player of the game. She understood that he had come to power here and was glad they were teaming up on him to compensate. Krishan's calculating mind had clearly been a boon, always trying to turn the possible frictions into possibilities. Not that she would admit that. She lent forwards, going at it again from another angle.
"How do you remember the Emperor here in Gondor?" Vivian asked, knowing religion to be the great unifier. "I've not seen any recognisable iconography." She gestured around the statues and cloth draped walls of the hall.
"The last king of Númenor?" Denethor asked, unsure of the subject. "Not at all I would say, why?"
Vivian and Krishan exchanged a quick look.
"No, she means our God" Krishan filled in and with a hand gesture encompassing the three of them. "The uniter and saviour of all humankind?" instinctively he and Vivian did the sign of the Aquila with their hands in front of their chests.
Denethor looked at them perplexed.
"Do you mean Ilúvatar, the creator of the music?"
"No…" Vivian answered, shaking her head slowly. Was this why the colony had fallen? Had they turned from the Emperor? She had not seen anything suspicious here, but she was really not an expert and the Great Enemy was notoriously insidious. She glanced quickly over her shoulder at Tartar and relaxing a little. And then she saw the bald girl, past him. The girl was going around the periphery of the hall, feeling and smelling statues and walls. She clearly unnerved the guards but Denethor had not even glanced her way. Vivian looked at Tartor and nodded in the girl's direction, it was time for her to earn the privilege of accompanying Vivian.
"On another note." Denethor declared, brushing over their silence and looking at Vivian. "You mentioned in passing that there was no islands or continents west of us. And yet you sailed here in three massive ships. So where then is Númenor you just arrived from, and Valinor beyond that?"
"I don't know this Valinor you've mentioned, but I can assure you there's no such place in the ocean, there's only empty water. Which we, by the way, did not cross with our ships, they are not that kind of ships. But regarding Númenor, or the Imperium as we say, you have actually been inside it all along, just isolated." Vivian explained carefully. They were obviously having a language problem, there were too many words she could not find the equivalent of.
"Our ship, the Righteous Flame, is the first ship to cross the storm." Krishan filled in. "And our leader sent us down here, to you, as soon as she recognised that the old colony lived on in Gondor."
"Sent 'down'?" Denethor emphasized but was interrupted by the girl.
"My lady" the girl said with her thin voice, suddenly standing by Vivian's side with her head lowered. "Can I be of service."
Vivian wanted to shy away from the freak but managed to hide it beneath her professional indifference. Her knuckles white but unseen under the table.
"…Girl." Vivian began, realizing she did not know the girl's name. "I just wondered if you had seen anything out of the ordinary since we arrived. You know about… your job?"
Everyone looked intensely at the two of them. The girl looked up, through Vivian, with her unseeing eyes, contemplating before answering.
"No, my lady," she began "even though the tree in the fountain smelled strange. But I haven't concentrated or anything yet." Shyly the girl then continued. "Do you want me to look deeper?"
Ignoring the girl's stare and her own uneasiness, Vivian turned to Denethor.
"Do you mind?" she said simply.
"I know witchery when I see it." Denethor established clearly. "And I won't stand for it under my roof." He added with the voice of one not contradicted, locking eyes with Vivian. She looked back, he seemed offended rather than afraid. But he was one with his cards close to his chest. Vivian was split between the fear of the unknown and her intention of making this relation with Gondor work.
"My lord! Osgiliath!" a soldier that just entered the hall shouted. "Their beacons are lit, the city is under attack."
Denethor sat back in his large chair, slow and thoughtful. Calmly he turned to the stressed soldier.
"Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth is still in the lower city with his Swan Knights." Denethor said. "Tell him that he's needed after all and that he should make haste to the Anduin. Slower reinforcements will come after."
The soldier saluted and rushed off while Denethor turned to his guests.
"I hope your visit is not some ploy to sew confusion and strife in these trying times." He said grimly. "You have not given me answers tonight. Your words just spawn more questions."
"That was clearly not our intention, lord." Krishan tried, holding up his hands placatingly. "Our peoples are just further apart than a simple discussion can remedy."
"But actions speak stronger than words" Vivian chimed in. "We'll go to Osgiliath to show that we are genuine." It felt right when she said it. She could show this Denethor their worth.
"I don't think we have the au…" Krishan started but Vivian just waves his objections away.
"They need us now. Come!" She told the others and stood up and gave Denethor a small bow. "We'll be back when we've proven ourselves."
She led her group out the doors and could feel both Denethor's stare in her back and Krishan's resentment beside her. In a single move she had regained the control and momentum of their mission, she thought satisfied, ignoring them both.
"You don't have the authority to start murdering a faction of the locals" Krishan hissed beside her. "You don't even know anything about the conflict or even where it is."
"Oh, calm down, Seneschal." Vivian answered with confidence. "There should be a beacon somewhere easy to find in the area. And I'm not going to shoot anyone." Krishan looked at her uncomprehendingly as she continued with a bit of smugness. "I'm the ambassador that will bring peace between these two warring factions. They are both part of the Imperium and subjects of the Captain Lerderian after all. They just don't know it yet."
§ § §
Faramir flew through the air and hit one of the stone walls lining the street. Next, he lay on the ground, grasping after his sword and breath. The taste of blood and dirt in his mouth. He was dragged to his feet by the closest men, one of them giving him his sword back. His ears were still ringing as he looked around taking in the situation and his bearing. The moon was their only light and they fought in the shadows of the buildings. He saw the warg rider dead behind them, the one that had crashed through the shield wall and then into him. Killed by the rangers in the windows above the narrow street. He also saw that the disciplined soldiers had reformed and held the line. Much due to the arrows flying over them, destroying the orcs momentum as they came.
"Captain!" one of his rangers above shouted and pointed over their lines. "Their commander!"
Faramir stretched but could not see over the throng of battle, he could see the possibility though. He shouldered further back. He quickly changed to his bow as he ran up the stairs of one of the ruined buildings.
"Hold the line! Hold the line for Gondor!" he screamed to encourage his men on his way to the roof. "Leonid and Gretemer, you two with me." He added on the move. The two rangers following him without a word. The plan was risky but if he could demoralise the enemy in this part of the city it could be worth him leaving the front. He and his rangers had done it before countless times in the battles through Ithilien... just not on this scale.
They climbed the last bit through the ruined roof and started running along the half-collapsed roof tops as quickly as they dared. Fires raged through the eastern city and behind them he recognized the conflagration that was the beacon of Osgiliath, lit above the city. He was glad there were no civilians in the ruined city. He tried determining by the fires if they could hold the bridgehead until reinforcements arrived, but it was a fool's errand. The whole situation was just turmoil and anarchy.
They reached the end of the row of houses and peered over the edge, invisible against the night sky in their dark hoods. Faramir scanned the marketplace below. Leonid spotted him first and pointed with a small movement. The orc commander walked around the other side of the open space, shouting and directing new troops down through the different streets. Too far away for a sure shot.
They looked at each other, both the rangers nodded to Faramir. Together they started climbing down the house wall, silent as a breeze. The stalked between wagons and supplies they themselves had abandoned not an hour ago. The groups of orcs running past them never looking into the deeper shadows.
Faramir glanced around a wagon in the middle of the marketplace, seeing the commander a stone throw away. He was raising his bow when he felt a coldness spread in his heart. He hid back unseen behind the wagon again, his compatriots staring at him with wide eyes. No wonder the walls had fallen before he even reached them if those things lead the army. The trio heard it ride out to the commander and saying something. A cold wind blew from nowhere.
"Faramir, the forgotten son of Denethor…" the Nazgûl's whispered words reached them, partly in the wind and partly in their heads. "...I can taste your destiny…" the whispers of the Nazgûl keeping them pinned, paralysed by the same instincts that pins the rodent in front of the hunter. "Your weakness will bring forth the end of your dynasty and…"
The whispers were disrupted by the sound of a far away horn. The unmistakable sound of the horn of Gondor that echoed undiminished along the avenues of the city. Their wits returned, they all raised from their hiding with their weapons ready. But the Nazgûl swept in among them, arrows glancing of its black armour.
"Run!" Faramir shouted and shoved Leonid back towards the house. Faramir turned to Gretemer as the man was hacked down by the wraith. He turned and ran. The Nazgûl screams turned their blood to ice while it hunted from its horse, trying to cut them of as they ran among the supplies. No orcs barred their way as no one stands between the Nazgûl and its prey.
They reached the wall and their horror gave them speed. Dropping weapons and throwing themselves up the wall. They climbed without a thought of safe handholds and conserving their energy. The Nazgûl were beneath them, screaming as the horn of Gondor reached them again. They crawled over the edge and started running back over the roofs.
"Boromir must be calling everyone to the bridgehead." Faramir said out of breath while they ran. Focusing on the sound of the horn, not yet ready to deal with what had just happened. "We have no time to lose." Below he saw that their position was in full retreat. Because of his weakness? Should he have stayed? Held together an ordered retreat? He bit his tongue to gain clarity, his brother needed him.
To avoid the charging hordes of orcs they held to the roofs, sometimes jumping to get over alleys. Faramir did not let them slow down one second until they at last reached the bridgehead. Exhausted they came upon the last strongpoint of eastern Osgiliath.
The withered gardens in front of the bridge were packed. Hundreds of soldiers in tight formations closed of all streets leading up to the bridge and still more fleeing came, joining the ranks. The ones routed by the retreat found new courage when seeing the Captain-General, Boromir of the White Tower, standing on a ruined monument with the banner of Gondor held high, sounding the horn of Gondor between shouting orders.
"Who is that?" Leonid panted while laying a hand on Faramir's shoulder and pointing towards the long bridge beyond the gardens. The people crossing the bridge was almost exclusively wounded being evacuated to the western city. But one lady in strange white uniform come walking purposefully towards them from the far side, her white cloak flowing in the river winds.