Chapter 16:
Siraaj stumbled through the halls like a drunkard; he was in no way certain how much time had passed since he'd woken on the stone floor. He also had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but judging by the stiffness of his joints and limbs it had been several minutes at the least.
Of course, the man hadn't taken much time to survey his physical state before all but running out of the dungeons as fast as his nerveless legs would carry him.
He'd known Basaam had been eyeing the girl. He'd suspected the man would try something; he and the other ministers had thought it immensely foolish, of course; Lord Sauron did not take kindly to others coveting what was his, and all had known Basaam would face harsh punishment should his plan be discovered. But this… the girl was a slave, not a singularly crafted blade or finely bred horse. There were thousands like her; she was replaceable. Even so, Basaam wasn't foolish enough to cause noticeable harm. The girl would have been able to continue working with no problem.
Though admittedly Siraaj was uncertain what it was about the girl that had drawn Lord Sauron's attention in the first place; according to rumor it was the Black Captain himself who had first captured her.
The Captain she, according to rumor, spoke with on a regular basis. She spoke with all the Nazgûl, without ever displaying the slightest hint of fear as far as anyone knew.
Siraaj had to brace himself against a wall when the tremors in his legs grew worse, head beginning to spin again. The girl… she spoke with the Nazgûl in ancient Black Speech, the pure dialect that only the Nine and Lord Sauron himself still knew. Which meant Lord Sauron had deemed her important enough to invest his most powerful servants' time in educating her, had perhaps even taught her himself.
Siraaj's legs almost gave way. What else might he have been teaching her? Was he grooming her for something? That might explain what he'd done to Basaam, Lord Sauron certainly did not tolerate anyone meddling in his experiments…
"Lord Halim?"
Siraaj's head jerked upward, meeting his colleague Lord Jasaad Amiri's eyes. The other man's brow was furrowed, almond eyes concerned. "What is the matter, my friend? I have never seen you so…"
Shaken, was likely what the man wanted to say.
Siraaj opened his mouth to speak. He could not even get a word over his lips. He closed his mouth again, then shook his head briefly. He swallowed several times before trying again.
"Lord Sauron…," he said, voice far thinner than he would have liked. "He… he discovered Basaam's… plan."
Jasaad nodded, expression becoming grave. "Yes. I had heard as much. What…," it was Jasaad's turn to pause. After a moment he went on. "What is his punishment? None of us have had word of a sentence being passed down."
Siraaj only realized the tremors had spread throughout his body when he saw his arms shaking.
Blood… all that blood, the smell of burned flesh. The ruined face of the man he had worked with, side by side for decades, mutilated almost beyond recognition. The raw terror in his clouded eye, the other nothing but a gaping, bloody socket.
Glowing eyes. An obsidian knife, blood dripping from the blade… that smile, that horrid, knowing smile…
"Lord Sauron…," Siraaj brought his left shoulder to lean against the wall as his arms gave way. His legs felt as though they'd follow shortly.
"Lord Sauron has taken him… for… for the Nine and… himself," the man finally managed, all but whispering the words. His throat was burning, his vision beginning to swim all over again.
Jasaad went pale, eyes widening in a way that might have been comical had the situation not been what it was. "Lord Sauron took him… in the… is that where he has been for the past day?"
Siraaj didn't answer. Jasaad, if possible, went even paler. "Did… is that where you have just been?"
"I went to report that the scouts have returned. One of the orc generals told me where I could find him. I thought he was interrogating a prisoner at first, I did not realize…," Siraaj trailed off. "I did not recognize him. I did not recognize either of them. He has kept them…they are still alive, Jasaad, and all the Nine were there as well…"
Jasaad looked like he might keel over any moment. "Over a slave girl?" he whispered, incredulous.
"There is something we are not seeing, Lord Amiri," Siraaj said, managing to straighten slightly. "Something we do not know… the girl speaks with the Nazgûl in the ancient tongue, she does not fear them. This… Lord Sauron has likely been teaching her himself, he sees something in the girl that we have missed."
"You believe he is training her for something," Jasaad murmured, half to himself.
Siraaj shook his head, feeling dizziness strike again. "I am… uncertain, but she is… important to him, somehow."
Jasaad nodded, eyes serious, thoughtful. "We must tell the others. That Lord Sauron would go this far…"
Siraaj could only manage a strained hum of agreement. If Lord Sauron would do this to one of his best war ministers, for barely touching the slave…
It would be wisest to leave the girl to Lord Sauron and the Nine.
Sauron exhaled heavily, passing a hand over his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He was in his office, having spent the last hour or so going over the scouting parties' written reports after hearing the captains' verbal accounts of their mission.
He was barely resisting the urge to set the papers (and their authors) ablaze. They'd told him essentially nothing he didn't already know; the only pertinent information was a marked increase in the number of Rangers in Ithilien.
Pests. They would be of no ultimate consequence, it would just be a minor issue when he eventually sent for the Haradrim to bolster Mordor's main host.
No new information on Gondor's troop movements, their numbers, plans, their relationship with the Rohirrim, whether or not it was likely the old alliances would be honored…
Sauron had stood before he was conscious of it, moving to the door without much thought. Upon entering the hall, he turned and began walking briskly in the direction of the healing wing.
He had not had the chance to ask Asha about Irideth's condition since his initial visit. He did not believe any of the Nine knew, either, considering they'd been with him most of the time since then.
Sauron barely withheld a snarl when he felt anger burn in his chest again, but he pushed it down quickly. Continued anger toward dead men wouldn't serve him now. Though there was certainly some satisfaction to be had, considering exactly how their demise had come about. He would have liked to draw it out more, preferably for a month or two, but he did not have the luxury of time at present.
The healing wing was virtually abandoned when Sauron entered; he hadn't realized how late it was. The few healers still milling about at this hour quickly bowed and averted their eyes when they noticed him.
The Dark Lord paid them no mind, expanding his awareness to locate Asha. He found her just as she was leaving the main apothecary's lab, where the fortress healers made most of their medicines.
Sauron had wondered more than once if the woman could sense his attention, and he found himself musing on this again when he sensed her moving in the direction of one of the more out-of-the-way storerooms.
The fact that she was facing the door when he entered, not looking at all startled, seem to be a point in favor of the hypothesis.
Asha bowed, tucking a small opaque vial into the pocket of her apron as she did so. "My lord."
Sauron tipped his head in acknowledgement. "How is Irideth faring?"
Asha's lips were pursed as she straightened. "She has recovered from the concussion and her head wound appears to be healing well. I fitted her for a sling this morning; the apprentices will have it finished by tomorrow quite easily. Her right side has developed some bruising, and she does still experience sharp pains if she breathes too deeply or turns too far to that side, which confirms my suspicion of cracked ribs. No complications with the arm thus far. She developed a fever last night that abated little during the day."
Sauron was peripherally aware of himself tensing. "How ill is she?"
"Nothing unusual; sore throat, mild fever, chest congestion, chills and body aches, all common cold symptoms. Considering all the stress she's been under recently, I'm not surprised," Asha said.
Sauron didn't think anything had shown on his face, but Asha must have noticed something; she went on, a bit more quietly, "she's going to be fine. She'll miserable for a few days while the sickness runs its course, but I have seen people far frailer than her recover from much worse."
Irideth shifted slightly; if her throat hadn't been so sore, she might have groaned. One of Asha's apprentices, an orc girl called Raska, had propped pillows on both sides of Irideth's chest. With a broken left arm and cracked ribs on her right side, Irideth could only lie on her back; the pillows were intended to keep her from rolling around in her sleep. It had proven quite effective, but one downside was the fact that Irideth did not sleep well on her back. Raska had helped by stacking several pillows behind her so she lay at an angle; this, aside from being a bit more comfortable, also helped ease the symptoms of her chest congestion.
She'd been in the healing wing for four days, by her estimate; it was difficult to tell with how much she slept. According to Asha, Sauron wanted her to remain here until her fever broke and her temperature stayed down.
Recalling that conversation still made Irideth uneasy; judging by the way Asha had… well, the girl wasn't certain, exactly, but something about the way Asha had spoken told Irideth the healer wasn't telling her everything she knew.
And boy, if that didn't set her nerves on edge. She tried not to think about it.
She had only dared check the bond once. Sauron was still blocking it, and blocking it completely; she may as well have tried to read a rock wall.
Asha visited on a regular basis. The healer would check on her every few hours, often to deliver food or medicine, supervise Irideth's exercises or make sure she had water. She would also make certain Irideth actually ate the food she was given; the orc would not leave if Irideth left anything uneaten, no matter how nauseous it made the girl. If Asha thought Irideth had been sleeping too long, she would wake the child, throw on the sling and make her walk around the room a few times.
If Asha was too busy she would send in Raska, who was far friendlier than Irideth would ever have expected of an orc. She would chatter on about anything and everything, with even the slightest (and sometimes no) prompting. And she often wouldn't stop until Irideth drifted off to sleep (and according to Asha sometimes not even then).
This was one of the rare moments Irideth was awake and had some time alone. Which meant it was a chance to give something a try.
With Sauron blocking the bond as he was, and her being left alone and not expected to work, this was a golden opportunity to practice her magic.
Meditation, however, was proving far more difficult than Irideth had expected. At this point she had a decent grasp on feeling her own 'life energy', but she hadn't been able to cast a more focused healing spell. She had been able to strengthen her general healing ability, but when it came to healing specific injuries she hadn't had much luck. Well, on herself, at any rate.
Irideth exhaled slowly, doing her utmost to ignore the pain in her throat and side, and relaxed. She had, through repeated efforts, managed to discern the difference between the normal energy flow and the disruptions, 'twists', that were her injuries. She just couldn't for the life of her figure how to focus the spell on a specific area. She'd tried to remember how it felt with Celephinnel in the forest (Valar, did that feel like a lifetime ago) without much luck. All she could seem to recall was how frightened and desperate she'd been, which would in turn disrupt whatever calm her meditative state had brought.
Now she was going to try something she could recall with a bit more emotional distance and thus, she'd found, with more clarity.
Irideth inhaled, held for a moment. She focused her attention on the disruption caused by her cracked ribs.
She exhaled and, as she remembered doing with Sauron, used her magic to tease at the edges of that snarl, trying to coax it into line with the surrounding energy.
Immediately a feeling of warmth bloomed in her right side, accompanied by a very intense tingling sensation.
Irideth's eyes snapped open in surprise. The sensation vanished as quickly as it had arisen.
The girl pushed herself upright as quickly as her aching muscles allowed, staring at her right side for a moment before carefully pulling up the edge of the oversized gray shirt Asha had given her.
Her skin was completely unmarked; the ugly purple-yellow bruises that had mottled it were gone.
Irideth inhaled deeply, a bit hesitant. No pain.
She moved her hand to the bottom of her ribcage and, after a moment's hesitation, poked at the bottom three ribs. Nothing.
Oh, my gods. I did it.
Irideth felt a grin beginning to creep over her face, a pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with magic filling her chest. I did it! I cast a focused healing spell!
Her grin became a full smile as she tugged her shirt back down, reveling briefly in the lack of pain.
The smile vanished instantly when she felt the familiar brush of another mind against hers.
'Irideth? What are you doing?' Sauron asked.
Irideth could have sworn her heart stopped. 'Um…'
Sauron had been about ready to kill someone (a few dozen someones, really; his hair was more flame than hair, and he'd felt his hands beginning to glow with heat) when he'd felt a strange, warm… something at the front of his skull.
In his rage-addled state it had taken him several moments to realize the source was his bond with Irideth.
He'd calmed himself enough to be confident the girl wouldn't feel his attention when he unblocked it. What he'd sensed had puzzled him enough, however, that his rage was immediately forgotten. Irideth was immensely pleased about something, and what that could be given her current state Sauron could not fathom.
'Irideth? What are you doing?'
The change from happiness to alarm was so quick it nearly had his head spinning. 'Um…'
Sauron blinked when Irideth withdrew slightly; the girl's trepidation was almost palpable. Valar, what can that child have managed to do?
Well, he didn't need her panicking. Taking a moment to gather himself, Sauron projected a feeling of reassurance across the bond. 'I could sense that you were pleased with something. What is it?'
Irideth had apparently calmed down enough to respond. 'I… um… I was… practicing my healing magic.'
Eru, even through a mind link he could barely hear her. Did she think he'd be angry with her about this?
Sauron nearly rolled his eyes. Obviously.
'You were successful, I take it?' he asked, allowing amusement to color the question.
'I… think so? It looks like it… the bruising on my right side is gone, and it doesn't hurt when I breathe anymore,' Irideth answered, still hesitant but feeling much less like she was barely suppressing a wave of terror.
Sauron felt his irritation threatening to spike again and took a quiet breath to quell it; if Irideth sensed it now, that would set things back quite a bit.
'You would know better than I would,' he said. 'Have you tried healing your arm?'
'I… don't know if I could do it again,' Irideth answered.
Sauron felt the muscles in his jaw tighten when she withdrew further; he could practically see her shrinking in on herself. Why was she being so reticent? She didn't normally shut down like this.
'Alright, little one. Get some rest. I will see you later this evening.'
After I speak with Asha, he added to himself.
"From what you've said, though, she's recovering fairly well. If her temperature stayed down for most of the day…,"
"Her temperature was never too high to begin with; it's been a prolonged, low-grade fever that…,"
At least I can no longer get headaches, Murazor mused as he listened to Asha and Akorahil's back-and-forth. He had been pleased to hear Irideth would make a full recovery, and likely a quick one; he couldn't imagine she was finding bed rest all that thrilling. He turned his attention from the two bickering healers to the room just down the hall, feeling some amusement as he listened to Raska talking animatedly about one of her fellow apprentice's unrequited affections for a third apprentice, neither of whose names Murazor recognized. Irideth for her part was barely able to get a word in, much less a full sentence, but she would ask questions here and there that would send Raska off onto the strangest tangents; judging by Irideth's tone she found her companion's chatter quite entertaining.
Hoarmurath laughed quietly next to him. 'It's good to see Irideth friendly with someone close to her own age.'
Murazor nodded his agreement absently. 'That was likely Asha's intention in assigning Raska to her; if Irideth has developed melancholy, it will be good for her to have a companion to take her mind off things.'
A familiar feeling, slight though it was, had Murazor turning around to face the end of the hall. He was met with the sight of Sauron turning the corner, moving with barely a sound.
Murazor immediately went to meet him, Hoarmurath stepping to take his captain's place to provide a little bit of cover. Murazor directed a brief flare of appreciation to his subordinate.
Sauron had stopped about halfway to the gathered crowd, waiting for Murazor to come to him. The wraith bowed his head briefly as he came to stand in front of his Master.
"My lord," he greeted quietly. "What troubles you?"
Sauron blinked; Murazor felt his question, though nothing showed on his face.
"You have been an essential embodiment of rage for the past several days. You are still quite agitated, yet you are moving very quietly, making yourself unobtrusive. Ordinarily when you are this displeased you make sure everyone in the vicinity knows it," Murazor said, allowing his amusement and the barest hint of concern to creep through the bond created by his ring.
"The last thing I want is a mess in the healing wing," Sauron answered tersely.
Yes, definitely still agitated, and apparently the cause was something he was either not willing to discuss or not willing acknowledge.
Murazor decided not to pry; going by what he could discern from the bond, it was almost certainly the latter, and pressing would only make things worse. "If I may make a suggestion, my lord?"
The sour look the Maia gave him was more than enough indication he wasn't in the mood, but the Dark Lord gestured for him to continue nonetheless.
Hopefully he has a decent control of his temper…
"However frustrated or angry you may be, my lord, you cannot take it out on Irideth, especially not now.""
Sauron's exasperated expression made his thoughts clear enough without the bond; how stupid do you think I am?
"I know," Murazor said as he raised his hands, half placating, half amused. "You just tend to have a much shorter chain when your servants are being… foolish."
"Are you currently counting yourself among that number, my Black Captain?" Sauron asked; judging by his tone he'd been going for menacing, but the upward quirk of his lips betrayed him.
"Which answer is least likely to make you assign me to arms training with the generals for the next month?"
A genuine grin spread across his Master's face as he laughed softly. "There's no need to worry about that, my friend," he said, laying a hand on the wraith's shoulder. "I have far more important work for you."
"Please say it doesn't involve Khamul and paperwork in the same sentence."
"I wouldn't push your luck, Murazor."
Whew! Back in school, got homework and tests and no time to write (it's been two months! Aack!) Kind of a filler chapter here since I'm working things out so they get me sort of in the direction I want to go and actually make sense. Sauron's still got some unresolved emotional issues, a few of which I'm planning to unravel in the next chapter or two. Irideth is a bit of a nervous wreck, for obvious reasons.
