Sometimes, I wonder if Ar-Pharazôn thinks things through before he demands them to be done. For example, he today asked that I be taught how to play a variety of musical instruments to, in his own words "broaden my talents so that I may be of greater use to my people". What greater use, I want to ask? I have a specific job and I must concentrate on it to perform well.
To use a somewhat more serious example, I (and no doubt many others) question his decision to capture Sauron and bring him back. That man is a plague upon this land, corrupting and maiming whatever he gazes upon. I wonder, from time to time, if we should have attempted to kill him when we had the chance. According to the Elves (if they're right about what he is), killing him would be difficult, but possible. Especially with an entire army.
Or with Altordinair. One precaution that Ar-Pharazôn actually took before invading Sauron's lands in Endor was forging a weapon capable of fighting Sauron. Forged out of pure mithril enhanced with a special alloy created by Fëanor himself, the weapon cost more than the cost of the fleet three times over. If anything could kill him, Altordinair could. For those curious, the name is Laxyan for Entity-Slayer.
-From the Abridged Journals of Arnuzîr
Mermacil and the rest of the group awoke before dawn. Quickly, Mermacil organized them into roles. "Okay, here's our plan. Hannish, you keep a perimeter around us. If you come across any lookouts or any loners who spot us, silence them. Lt. Samnon, do the same. Kith'tar, you shall lead the way. Elarë will stay with me."
The two men drifted out, moving slowly and quietly in the early morning. "Where exactly are we head, Mermacil?" asked Kith'tar.
"I want to find out what this army is doing here, and that requires somehow getting into the camp."
Elarë stared at him, shocked. "That's impossible. There's no way to infiltrate this camp!"
Mermacil frowned in puzzlement. "Why is that? We've done it before, and in camps of smaller size.
"Yes," she hissed, "But take a look and you'll notice there is a crucial difference between this army and those ones."
Mermacil peered out in front of him. "I can't see anything now, but earlier when we first say them I didn't notice anything."
Elarë rolled her eyes at him. "There are no Men in this encampment. Anyone that we send in as a spy will stick out like a sore thumb-no, like a sixth finger!"
Mermacil's eyes widened as he realized that what she was saying was only all too true. "Damn!" he swore. Looks like we need a new plan¸ he thought to himself. He began to think aloud. "Okay, then sneaking into the camp is right out. Also, there's unlikely to be any informants from the orcs. It's not likely that they're all dead loyal to whatever force is commanding them, but it's equally unlikely that they will be very willing to talk to us."
"I have a plan," said Kith'tar. Mermacil looked at him with interest.
"Go on," he commanded.
"When you picked me as diplomat, no doubt you imagined that I would be engaging in diplomacy with other Men. Well, I think I know where we can find some."
"Where?" said Elarë.
"In Nurn," he replied. "It's a long walk to the south of here, but it may be worth it. Also, we may want to track down however originally informed Lord Faramir."
Mermacil thought Kith'tar's suggestion over, and then came to a decision. He signaled for Hannish and Lt. Samnon to return. "All right, we have a new plan," he announced. "We are going to try and get past this horde. Not an easy task, I'll grant, but we should be able to accomplish it assuming they are not too worried about people moving through their lands.
"From there, we attempt to reach Lord Faramir's informants. I have their last recorded locations in my mission briefing. After that, we head south to Nurn to see what information can be gained there. Sound good?"
Everyone nodded in agreement. Soon they had resumed their earlier formation and where heading in a southerly direction. Mermacil directed Kith'tar to lead them to a place between the Plateau of Gorgoroth and Nurn known as the "Guard House". This was there the informants had been stationed and where they should be currently.
They traveled all day, stopping only once where they eat a quick lunch. Despite it being winter, it was somehow still burning in Mordor. Mermacil hadn't realized that Orodruin affected the climate so much. Although they had made lots of progress, it would still be a while before they would reach the Guard House, let alone Nurn, at this rate.
"Sir!" shouted Lt. Samnon. "I just had an idea!"
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"Well, sir, traveling in Mordor is a lot like traveling in the desert or Harondor. Whenever I was stationed there we would travel at night to take advantage of the coolness. Here, the cover of darkness will hopefully help us slip past the orcs."
"Excellent idea, Lt.! Does everyone else agree?"
"Aye."
"No problem."
"It is a wise idea."
"Then it's settled. We'll rest tomorrow and move out tomorrow night!"
It was difficult to get anything done during the day. Having already rested the previous night, none of them wanted to rest now. Sitting around in what little cover they could find from the orcs was leaving them all antsy. Mermacil and Hannish were able to burn a little energy by sparring with each other. Both of them wielded a longsword, but Mermacil was out of practice. More accurately, he was never in practice to begin with.
Mermacil had been much to young when the War was fought to participate, and when he moved out to Minas Ithil he had help what was largely considered a desk job. It was only recently that he had been assigned to field jobs. He did well at them, but he was unused to having to defend himself.
According to Hannish, he was pretty good for a man of over fifty who had only been wielding weapons for around a tenth of his life. However, most of the threats that he would encounter in Mordor were a good sight beyond that. Still, he was improving, and that's what mattered.
"All right," he finally said. "Let's stop. I don't want to be too tired for tonight." He sheathed his sword. Hannish did the same.
"Fair enough, but we will practice again in the nearby future." Hannish grinned wickedly.
Meanwhile, Elarë was being taught the basics of the Nurnian script by Kith'tar.
"It shouldn't be too hard to learn," he said in his usual soft voice. "Centuries of cultural domination by Gondor, Sauron, and Harad have left it so that the script looks a good deal like ours, but with a few differences here or there. This is their "a", for example."
Elarë nodded. "I think I get it. So, "b" would look like…this." She gave a dramatic flourish and wrote on her paper.
"Excellently done, Elarë. You were definitely the right pick for this assignment."
Elarë beamed; glad to have Kith'tar's respect.
Lt. Samnon was doing his best to not be bored, but there wasn't much for him to do. He had already checked his equipment to make sure that it was all in working order, twice. He was currently writing a letter to his girlfriend, though with knew when he would have a chance to send it to her. He also updated a daily log that he kept with him at all times.
Finally, the sun sank below the horizon and they were ready to move out. They were able to travel much faster than they had been before, for the majority of the orcs were sleeping, and they didn't stand out enough against the night for the few sentries to notice them.
"Why do you think they have so few sentries posted?" Elarë inquired.
It was Lt. Samnon who replied first. "They aren't afraid. We certainly weren't expecting this army; we don't even know where it came from. As far as they know, we still have no idea they are here. And, even if we did, what kind of force could we send at them that they wouldn't know about first that would actually hurt them?"
They all realized the truth of his statement and to each of them came the same thought. If we can't defeat them here, how can we hope to at all?
Parthekos kept on moving, trying to go as quickly as possible. He dared not disappoint the Yasugi. The Orocarni Mountains were so massive that they were visible when one was but a few miles past the city wall of Hyarragash. However, Parthekos knew that he still had a long way to go. He was used to long waits, although in another sense.
Ranks in the Azaon churched worked so that there were two ways of being promoted. The first was having someone at least two ranks above you determine that you were worthy of becoming closer to truly serving Azao. When this happened, a new place in the ranks was opened for the promoted member. The other way was if the person above you died. If that happened, the person directly below them would take their spot.
There were many ranks in the Azaon church. There were 13 cardinal ranks, each with a different name. Within these cardinal ranks were 13 ordinal ranks, each with the same name. For example, someone with the cardinal rank of Ossaon and ordinal rank of Issalar would have the rank of Ossaon-Issalar. Yasugi was the most powerful rank; there was only one person with the cardinal rank of Yasugi.
The ranks, in order from least to greatest, are as follows: Issalar, Julurrt, Kirrgan, Laosson, Matrruva, Nyatti, Ossaon, Pirraga, Russagi, Sesisse, Talak, Ugarus, and Yasugi. Parthekos was an Ossaon-Kirrgan, which was a relatively high rank in the church.
Rising high in the ranks of the church was not nearly as hard as many believed it to be. All that was required was that the priests stick to their rhythms, and if they were doing well a superior priest would promote them. There were always new recruits, so there were never any vacancies (although it was beginning to get difficult to house everyone). The priests of Azao naturally believed in styling their lives after the Sun. Therefore, because the Sun kept to a specific rhythm throughout the day, the priests of Azao did so as well. However, because the Sun altered this rhythm day by day, the priests did so as well.
Parthekos excelled as a priest because he quickly hit on what the right amount of change was. Some priests saw the Sun as a chaotic, flaming, incinerating orb and reflected this in their routines, changing them wildly from day to day. This sect was called the "Daizumi-Jao", which translates roughly to "Flaming Robes".
Other priests saw the Sun's constant rise and fall as the ultimate symbol of order and consistency, and kept the core of their routines the same, changing them only on the outside. These priests named themselves the "Kwoharr-Jao", which translates to "Steady Robes".
The last major sect diverged a little further from orthodox teaching. The other two sects derive their principles from a set of teachings commonly called the Gwaharradh. However, the last group did not looked directly at the Sun balanced out the Moon. They are called by many names, but the most frequent is "Kathalar-Jao", which means "Shadow Robes". These priests usually act chaotic for some period of time, then orderly for another. However, they occasionally mix things up by not varying in routine whatsoever.
Parthekos did well because he did not follow a particular sect. Unlike the Daizumi-Jao, he did not vary wildly. However, he also changed the core of his routine, unlike the Kwoharr-Jao, and he always kept to this pattern. The Yasugi valued this approach, and promoted him often.
Parthekos felt truly at home with the Azaon priests. He enjoyed the structure of their life, the comradeship he had with the other priests, the sense of growth and improvement he felt with each promotion. Most importantly, however, he could feel Azao, and he wanted nothing more than to please him and bring him greatness.
Parthekos wiped some of the sweat from his shaved scalp. Although the priests were not required to shave their heads, many did. The reasons for this practice were lost in the depths of time, for this was a practice that was millennia old.
In each village he passed through, Parthekos noticed how eager everyone was to help him. This puzzled him. At first it made sense, since it was logical that the villages close to Hyarragash would respect the much-loved priests of Azao. However, several weeks away from Hyarragash, it was strange that they would be so helpful to him.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. He remembered one of his friends talking about something like this before he left.
"Often, when people agree to help you, they aren't doing out of love or devotion. They are doing it out of fear."
Parthekos still wasn't quite sure why they would fear him, though. He thought on the topic some more, until he recalled a lecture from his early days as a priest.
"Amongst the common folk, much of what they "know" is little more than superstition and folk lore. For example, many of them believe that the routines that we practice allow us to harness the power of the Sun. We cannot do this, of course, but there are other gods who grant a similar power to their followers, so it makes sense that this belief would persist. Also, many priests find it makes things easier to encourage this belief."
Well, that explains things, thought Parthekos. I suppose it is fairly handy. Parthekos brought his thoughts back to his reason for leaving and stepped up the pace. He wanted to reach the mountains soon. His mind suddenly drifted, drifted over to the memory that he was trying so hard to forget. He struggled in vain to ignore his persistent want to revisit that memory, but failed. Dropping to the ground, he experienced a sudden flashback.
Parthekos is standing outside of the Yasugi's quarters. He has been summoned there for a special mission. A very special mission. The Yasugi is busy when he arrives, but this doesn't bother Parthekos. He knows that the Yasugi's job is nothing but constant work, day and night. He can be patient for a several minutes.
He can't help but over here the conversation going on inside, however. He may be patient, but that doesn't mean that he is deaf. Strangely, neither the Yasugi nor his visitor seem to be trying to bring down their voices. Perhaps they are unaware that the Yasugi had asked him to arrive at this time.
The Yasugi is talking. "Is everything in place for the Solstice?"
"Yes, Lord," says another voice, this one much deeper.
"Good. The soldiers are in place?"
"Not quite yet, but they will be soon."
The Yasugi's voice hardens. "They had better be. When the attack happens, I do not want any of the priests living."
Parthekos frowns in shock, and only barely keeps himself from gasping aloud. Does the Yasugi plan on attacking another temple?
The other voice speaks up again. "Of course, My Lord. There must be no witnesses, or else the Xaniq's plan shall be ruined."
Xaniq? thinks Parthekos. That is the name of the leader of the priests of Latao. Before he can think on this any further, the Yasugi speaks again. "Good. We shall finally be rid of Azao's wretched servants forever".
With an effort, Parthekos ended the flashback. He wiped tears he hadn't even realized he was sheding from his eyes. He had tried to use his training to keep it from his conscious mind, but it was no good. He had to face it; the Yasugi was a traitor. He had been working for Latao, the Moon God, this whole time.
In truth, the Yasugi's task for him had simply been to go to a village but a week from Hyarragash and convert there. However, Parthekos had been so good at hiding that memory that he managed to convince himself that he had been sent to the Orocarni Mountains. What he was really doing was escaping. However, since it looked like the priests of Azao were to soon be gone, he might as well begin to recruit some new ones.
The bad weather, thankfully, seemed willing to content itself with a light drizzle and ominous clouds to the South. The military stood nearby. Although the soldiers appeared relaxed, Liriel knew that they were ready to destroy any part of The Swarm at a moment's notice. Pazij stood among them, talking with their commander. They had over ten thousand men with them at the moment. Emperor Zushwah, Emperor of the Barish Empire, was willing to do anything to halt the advance of The Swarm, including send an entire regiment of soldiers on what could be a false lead.
Meanwhile, under Guband's careful leadership the excavators were beginning to dig on top of the patch of soil that Liriel had discovered. With any luck, they would be digging into one of the Swazverai and inside of that temple they would discover the cause of The Swarm.
Suddenly, Guband was at her side. "We may have a slight problem that requires your attention."
"What is it?" Liriel asked worriedly.
"You should probably come see," she said. They both walked over to the hardly begun excavation site. Guband gestured to the bottom of the shallow hole they had dug. There was a glistening metal at the bottom.
Liriel was stunned. "Is that mithril?"
Guband shook her head. "Sadly, no, or we would be the richest people in the history of the world. This is karthal."
Liriel stared at Guband. "What?"
"Think of it as mithril's ugly twin. It's nearly as thick and tough. If you could somehow make armor out of this it would be as unbreakable or scratchable as actual mithril. However, something about the metal makes it ridiculously tough to work with, even for dwarves, and it is far denser."
"So, you're telling me we can't even drill through it."
"Pretty much, unless you fancy spending the next few decades of your life watching a drill break over and over again. We need you, Liri."
Liriel sighed. Normally, even a desperate man wouldn't hire a complete foreigner to work on a task of utmost importance, especially one with limited experience in this task. However, Liriel had a trick up her sleeve.
She hoped down into the hole and pressed her hands against the karthal. She closed her eyes and tried to sense it with her innate talent. She examined the karthal, sensing any weaknesses that would make her task easier. However, she found none. Truly, this was mithril's ugly twin.
She focused all her energy to where her hands met metal; draining her utterly and making her feel exhausted and light-headed. However, she was rewarded by a satisfying cracking noise from the karthal, as it split into thousands of tiny, easily excavated pieces. The excavators all were staring at her in shock as she pulled herself out of the whole and brushed the dirt off her hands. A few tricks indeed.