Four: No Man's Sky
An ungodly scream woke them all at dawn the next morning, but it was not the fearful cry of a Nazgûl. Talion recognized the sound even as its echoes died - would have known it even unconscious on the verge of death - and he nearly flew from the narrow mat he had "slept" on, belting on his cloak and blades and boots over his tunic and trousers but leaving the gambeson, mail, and plate armor. It would take too long to don, and Daerwen was not fond of delays.
He ducked from under the stack of empty crates that passed for his tent, glowing eyes already sweeping the skies for a blur of blood red scales-
Daerwen plunged like an arrow through the thin clouds overhead. The drake's aim was beyond true; she slammed into him and knocked him off his feet with a snarl, sending crates and armor plates flying. She pinned him to the ground with a massive paw-hand and hissed right in his face, burning, sulfurous breath licking over his skin, fire glowing ominously in her throat.
It had only been five years, but she was much bigger than he remembered, enough that even though all the straps of her harness had been let out to the fullest, the leather creaked and strained against the bulge of her muscles, and more than a few straps had worn through or snapped, dangling tattered and frayed. She had a few new spikes and spines as well, and new teeth, gleaming white as she bared them over him.
"Sweetheart…"
He reached for her, but she reared back and hissed again, spiked tail whipping back and forth like an angry cat's. The Orcs kept their distance, watching with trepidation.
"I know. I left you behind - left all of you behind. I'm sorry. I never wanted to - that was the last thing I wanted. I just… I wasn't strong enough to stop Him from taking me down."
Some of the anger seemed to bleed off of her at that, because she covered her fangs again and breathed heavily through her nose, inhaling to scent him and exhaling to mark him with her breath.
"On my life, on my honor, on everything I hold dear, sweetheart: if I could have stayed, I would have. If I could have fought longer, I would have. I didn't want to go any more than you wanted to let me."
She watched him for another long, silent minute, sharp intelligence in her golden eyes. At last she lifted her hand from where she had nearly caved in his ribcage, and she dipped her head to allow him to touch her. He found all the right spots on her head and especially her jaw, and before long she started purring under his hands, opening herself back up in their bond.
There you are, sweetheart. I missed you.
Daerwen purred louder, and pushed an impression of :empty-saddle-fire-within-smothered: through to him. I missed you too, Talion translated, and he pressed a kiss to her nose.
The Ringwraith spent the day preparing for whatever might await them in Sharkhburz, as well as tending to Daerwen. He did genuinely want to spend time with her again, but it was also a useful show of strength, especially for the Feral Tribe; despite her anger, the largest and fiercest of all fire-drakes came easily back to his hands, letting him unbuckle her harness for repairs and extensions and scrub at her scales with water and sand from the Sea to remove scale coatings and mites. When she was clean at last, he settled on the shore with her bulk curled around him, repairing her harness even as he spoke with his warriors about plans to take the fortress in the event Brûz decided to fight him, which was more likely than anything else.
"Ghûra, Ratbag's escape tunnel should still be open, and as far as I know, Brûz knows about it but not where it is. Take a squad and get in behind, but focus on Brûz whenever possible. Sauron has finally been defeated, and this is a new Age; I don't want to start it the same way the old one ended - with senseless slaughter. That goes for the rest of you, as well; if someone drops their weapons, let them, and take them prisoner."
"Understood."
"What about you, Gravewalker? Where are you gonna be in all this?"
"I'll be attacking Brûz from the front, holding his attention. Once he's down, we can worry about the warchiefs, such as they may be. They're probably following him out of desperation, and lack of other options." Talion buckled on the last of his armor pieces and briefly bounced on his feet to make sure the plates were secure. They were, so he pulled his cloak over it all, and then buckled his blades on top of that.
"You gonna talk to him first?" Nákra only half-asked. "Try to get him to stand down?"
"I'll try. Somehow I doubt I'll succeed, but…" He rubbed Daerwen's nose when she butted up against him. "If nothing else, he'll make a nice snack, won't he, sweetheart?"
The drake let out a rumbling growl, spines flaring and steaming saliva dripping from her bared fangs, and he scratched her brow-ridge. "Have a company or so ready to move by the time I return. Fight or no, we're taking that fortress."
Talion strapped Daerwen's harness back on, and she shook herself fiercely to make sure everything was tight. When the harness stayed in place and the new straps remained strong, the drake lowered herself and allowed him to swing up into the saddle onto her back. She took flight amidst the cheers of the Orcs and winged up and away over the Forest of Carnán, the trees swaying below.
Talion considered the forest. The Avari lived somewhere in those vast woods, he knew, somewhere close to Carnán herself. He had been taken to their home once - and only once, blindfolded and bound and disoriented by their magic so he could never find his way back on his own. He still found himself surprised that Sauron had tolerated the other Maia's presence - but perhaps he had witnessed her first battle against Tar Goroth and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. Perhaps he had been taking advantage of her presence, using it to relentlessly till the fields that fed his armies while they were renewed by her power. Or perhaps he had simply been lying in wait, hoping to conquer the rest of the world and hold it in thrall before descending on the last stretch of green land.
Now there was no way to know for sure. The necromancer supposed he would simply be grateful for the spirit's unchanging presence and her tolerance for his unnatural existence, letting him shelter under her branches and sleep in the quiet of her trees when the voice of Isildur's Ring grew too loud.
...said Ring had been very quiet of late. He turned his gaze from the forest to his finger and mentally prodded at it.
It remained silent. A more thorough examination had Talion breathing a sigh of relief, though his brow still furrowed in confusion. Whatever evil awareness it once had seemed to have died with Sauron, leaving only the actual Ring and its power, drawing strength from the New Ring (wherever that was). Suladân's Ring was similarly inert, so that was something.
Carnán's Forest thinned and fell away under Daerwen's wings, and the wraith stroked her shoulders. What do you think, sweetheart?
:Hungry:.
I know you want food; one way or another, we'll find you some soon. But I meant Brûz.
Her head distinctly swung up a little, her wings following, angling them higher, and a memory played behind his eyes, shown through their bond.
Drake sight was very different from human sight, so as ever, it took him a minute to adapt. Daerwen saw in strange colors - ones that Talion knew were often more vivid than he ever thought possible or so washed out as to be grey and lifeless, to say nothing of the ones no one else could see - but eventually he understood what she was showing him.
Brûz and his band were celebrating. They had thrown a party when he had finally fallen into darkness, washed off their marks - the red drake that was their standard, together with the hammer and sword of his own heraldry - and broken open cask after cask of grog, drinking it all down as they tried to come up with increasingly creative insults for the lost Ringwraith.
Then the memory changed. The Dark Tower came down, and Daerwen had grieved for him, so sure that he had died with Sauron. She had flown out to where she had first seen him - the copse of trees on the edge of the Forest of Carnán where she had broken the shell in his arms - so she could say her own goodbye.
Brûz had found her.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the little missy. What'sa matter? You missin' the Bright Lord?"
Very few people actually understood how strong the drakes' senses were. Talion was one of them. Brûz was not. So the wraith was not surprised that Daerwen had smelled the old Olog's band coming, heard the rustle in the undergrowth that was more than just the wind. Their footsteps, their breath, their weapons, the warmth of their bodies - every tiny disturbance had let her map their movements in her mind.
They had been carrying one of the heavy braided-wire nets Sauron used to catch her kin for "taming" - or slaughter.
She had gathered her fire in her chest but held position as Talion had taught her, reining in her temper until the opportune moment. The only outward sign of her displeasure had been the flattening of all her spines.
"Oh, did I strike a nerve? Well too damned bad." Brûz had yanked his club from its holster and bared his jagged teeth. "Bright Lord's gone, and I'm gonna send you to join him, you damned bitch."
Daerwen had leaped skyward at the last possible second, missing being caught in the net by the breadth of a scale, and emptied her fire reservoir in a furious torrent into the branches below. The woods were green with wet and new growth, but they still went up at once, blazing red-orange and belching black smoke into the sky. She had heard the shrieks of Orcs in flight, some of them wounded and dying in the flames if the smell of cooking flesh was anything to go by, but there had been no way to know if Brûz had been among them without lingering unwisely.
Talion withdrew from the memory with a growl. Well, I guess that answers that question. I almost don't want you to eat him; it seems too good of an end for him. And I don't want him to make you sick.
Daerwen let out an ugly snort and bared her teeth on a growl of her own. :HUNGRY:! she projected loudly to him, and followed by, Damned fool troll deserves to become food! One final way to spit on him and his betrayal - to give strength to those who stayed loyal! To take all that was his and make it ours! We will grow and succeed in our goals, and he will die and be forgotten save as a warning- do not cross the Gravewalker and those who follow him!
Talion hummed but said nothing further, directing her to glide out over the Sea of Núrnen and circle around to come at Sharkhburz from behind.
There was no one practicing at the archery range in the back, so it was easy enough for Daerwen to alight on the roof of the vast stone fortress, tail lashing like a cat's. Talion slipped from her back and prowled forward, crouching in the shadow of the tallest pillar. He spared a glance at the ostentatious display that Sauron's previous Overlord had left behind; they must have been with Marauder Tribe, based on all the gold plating. It was nothing significant though, nothing booby-trapped to fall and crush him if he ended up under it, so - after lifting his gaze higher, to the platform where he and Celebrimbor had been betrayed and murdered so many years ago - he turned to survey the fortress itself.
Most of Sharkhburz was empty, only the fortress itself and a few outbuildings occupied, with a few thin-looking Orcs cooking meat nearly to charcoal on the massive brazier before the innermost gate. Even as far away as he was, the stinking char of scorched flesh reached him and made him wrinkle his nose. He had taught a few Orcs what recipes he knew and arranged for others to teach more from Gondor and the East and South, since the Orcs seemed to enjoy having food that was actually edible and not burnt to a crisp. They had spread the skill to others, but clearly Brûz and his followers had ignored the lessons. They had not made even the most cursory attempt at edible food, let alone palatable.
The Ringwraith shifted his sight to the Unseen World and counted the red figures he saw. Forty-six in total supporting Brûz, not including the Olog himself; even with only a single company, this was going to be an embarrassingly quick fight.
Assuming there was a fight. Well, any significant one. Brûz would fight, that was beyond question; it had yet to be seen how many of his soldiers would fight with him. The Olog was getting on in years, too; Talion had no idea what natural Orc lifespans were like, given that they tended to live fast and die young, especially under Sauron. But Daerwen's memory showed that what little hair Brûz had was more grey than black or brown or whatever it had been before, and his face was more wrinkled, especially on his forehead and around his mouth, though his skin was starting to sag all over his body.
Speak of the Enemy.
The great doors slammed open below, and Brûz burst from the fortress, a confident swagger in his steps. When the Olog spoke, Talion heard Daerwen hiss behind him.
"This really all we got for food?" He snatched the spit off the fire and ate the caragor haunch in a few crunchy bites, then waved the spit like a weapon. "Ashgarn! Where are you, you little rat?!"
A nervous-looking hunter with a quiver of spears on his back came skittering out of one of the outbuildings, wringing his hands. He looked thin too, not quite skin and bones but not healthy either. Had Brûz been starving his men to gorge himself, or was food simply that scarce? "Yes, Overlord? What is it?"
"Another hunting trip," the Olog growled. "The fort's ours, but it don't mean anything if we starve to death."
"If all of us go, we could take down a graug, or-"
"Get ourselves killed? Let someone else move in and steal the fortress? No. Take your band out, find us a couple of caragors. 'Sides, a lot of the graugs here are the poison ones. Doesn't do us much good to eat our fill now if it's just gonna kill us later." The Olog shoved another hunk of meat on the spit and dropped it back over the fire.
Talion stayed absolutely still as Brûz turned around and stamped back into the fortress, leaving Ashgarn to gather his fellow hunters and set off to look for caragors and other prey. Once the other Orcs returned to what they had been doing, the wraith backed up and slipped out of the pillar's shadow, turning back to Daerwen. When he was in the saddle again, she tipped them both over the edge, gliding over the sea on silent wings until they were some distance from the fortress and the cliff it sat on. Only then did she angle herself up and actively work to gain height, swinging them around to come at the docks from head on.
Unsurprisingly, Mozû was the one waiting to go when Daerwen landed on the massive struts looming on thick pillars over what passed for a loading zone. "What's the word, Gravewalker?"
"One of the warchiefs and his warriors are leaving the fortress on a hunt," Talion answered. "We should reclaim it before they return; it will be an easier fight if we don't have to worry about them arriving in the middle of it. But only the main fortress itself and a few outbuildings are inhabited."
"So no need for shock and awe, then? Break the gates, get inside, get everything wrapped up before they have a chance to respond? We'll be right behind you," the Savage confirmed when the wraith nodded, before turning and bellowing for his warriors.
"Mind how much damage you do! We still need to defend the fort after we take it! Ghûra, you might not be needed at all, but come anyway. The fewer casualties we have, the better."
She nodded and headed off with a squad, already making her way towards Ratbag's escape tunnel.
Once he saw that Mozû's warriors were moving, Talion nudged Daerwen back into the skies. They flew around Sharkhburz again, following the same path they had before, swinging out over the Sea to come at it from behind. It was not long before they were perched atop the fortress once more, Daerwen's head snaking over the rooftop battlements, but this time Talion did not leave her saddle, waiting until Mozû's company breached the gates.
They were quick about it. Once the gates were down, the Orcs raced through the streets, battle cries on their lips that sent Brûz's warriors into a panicked frenzy. Half of them were captured before the Olog even emerged from the fortress, and Talion spotted Ghûra and her squad moving into position. Brûz was too wary and aware for anyone to sneak up on him, but he could still be hurt by attacks from behind.
The doors banged open below. Brûz charged out with a snarl on his lips, which turned to a laugh as he saw Mozû. "Well, well, well! If it isn't one of the Bright Lord's pets, finally come out to play."
"If it isn't one of the traitors," Mozû sneered back, whipping out his dual hand-axes and gripping the handles tight. "I never liked you, Brûz; I'm gonna enjoy watchin' you get thrashed one last time."
"Oh, you think you can? Gonna set yourself up as Bright Lord's successor, conquer Mordor in a dead man's name?"
"I won't argue with 'dead' or 'man', but I'm hardly in need of a successor."
Even from behind and a few hundred feet off the ground, Talion saw Brûz's skin drain of color. The Olog whipped around, face almost white, before he flushed with fury. "You! You're supposed to be dead!"
Talion smiled tightly. "Oh, but I am dead - just not gone." He leaned forward and smoothed an armored hand over his drake's scaled neck. "Daerwen tells me you tried to kill her just after the Dark Tower fell."
The drake snarled, loud and vicious, the sound of her fury echoing off the buildings, and some of Brûz's warriors cringed. Mozû and several Feral Tribe echoed her, readying their weapons.
"Almost succeeded too!" the Olog shouted, nearly frothing at the mouth now, practically ripping his bladed club from its holster. "And this time when I kill you, it's gonna stick! I ain't bein' your slave again!"
"I have no intention of taking you back, Brûz," Talion said coldly. "The only one dying here is you."
Then the wraith Shadow-Struck him, lancing like lightning through the space between them to slam against the Olog and knock him off balance. Then he whipped Urfael's edge across his bare stomach before darting back out of range. The Olog's hide was too thick for that one shallow strike to do any real damage - but that was also a disadvantage for Brûz. Instead of slicing cleanly apart the way most Orcs' did, it acted like one massive papercut; his skin ripped and tore, and with very little blood spilled, it left all the nerve endings exposed to the air, making for one painful wound with little hope of reprieve.
Talion did not like thinking about how he had come into that knowledge, but he was quietly relieved that he was finally putting it to his own uses instead of Sauron's.
Brûz roared in agony and swung his club down hard - hard enough to splinter the paving stones where Talion had been. The wraith lunged away and opened up another rent along the Olog's side, this one deep enough to draw blood, black spilling out over the stones like liquid shadow.
Talion started gathering power even as Ghûra hit Brûz from behind, the assassin leaping onto him and burying her daggers in his back, ripping the blades down and tearing open huge gashes on either side of the Olog's spine. Brûz roared again and groped over his shoulders, trying to grab her - leaving him open to a fresh attack from Talion.
Urfael began to glow with necrotic energy, not at full strength yet but enough to start showing - and enough to slow the Olog further. When the wicked edge sliced across his unguarded chest, it sapped his life force and replenished the wraith's own, making him stagger. Ghûra fell back and darted out of range, her task done, and Talion lifted his sword as Brûz swung his club wildly in a wide arc, trying to add the power of the spin to the strength of the attack.
The necromancer blocked the blow by cutting the Olog's hand off at the wrist. Brûz overbalanced from the sudden change, going down hard to one knee and blinking in surprise at the stump of his hand. That brought him close enough for Talion to whip back around and drive the point of Urfael up through his throat.
The Olog collapsed in the blink of an eye, sliding off the sword in the process. The wraith had severed his spine as well, killing him instantly: a quicker and cleaner death than he probably deserved. Daerwen slammed down on the corpse's back a moment later, bones crunching under her weight, and buried her maw in the flesh, ripping off a hunk and tossing it back.
Talion left her to it and turned to Mozû. "Your fortress, Overlord," he said, sweeping an arm out.
The Savage grinned sharply and called for his warriors to start going through the buildings, seeing what they had to work with, while a courier ran to get some of the others down by the docks. One of his Warchiefs would be staying there with his underlings to fish the waters of the Sea while they waited for crops to ripen.
The once-slaves that tended the fields had long fled and the livestock had scattered or been slaughtered, but the fields had, in fact, been planted, much to Talion's surprise. He had half-expected Sauron to say 'screw those Orcs' and leave them to fend for themselves once Gondor had fallen. But of course, the Maia had meant to conquer and lay waste to all of Middle-earth, and the rest of the world after. Even if the army had pillaged as it went, it still would have needed supplies to feed it and all the slaves if anyone took to burning their fields and slaughtering their livestock behind them.
"We should set up a rotation again," Talion said, calling up a platoon of specters to scare off the birds pecking at the new shoots. "Regardless of what we plant in them, the fields will need to be minded, and guarded from all manner of things. And Brûz had the right idea about sending Ashgarn to hunt - at least until we can trade for more livestock from further afield."
"Same deal as before?" Mozû asked, crouching to poke at a sad-looking sprout in a bone-dry patch of soil. "Double ration of grog for taking good care of a field?"
"It worked before, and 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it.' I'm going to see about the irrigation; hopefully Sauron didn't dismantle the system we built."
The Maia had not ripped up everything they had made to manage the crop fields, to Talion's further surprise. Even so, once Nákra arrived, the Ringwraith had the Machine Overlord and his followers inspect the iron machines and all their clever little mechanisms to make sure they would not fall to pieces.
"Looks like some bits broke and got replaced," Nákra said, standing and swiping a hand across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "They're poorly made and we'll need to replace them again, but otherwise nothing's changed with the pumps. Should be good to go for now - once we get it runnin', of course."
"Thank Eru for small mercies. Start it up."
That last he directed at a pair of specters, which did as instructed, taking up the detachable handles and slotting them into holes for just such a purpose on a secondary gear. In moments, the wheels began to turn, first by the efforts of the shades, starting the flow, but before long the power of the waves took over, the relentless surge both on the shore and upriver nearby providing all the power it needed. Water from the Sea of Núrnen poured through long tubes and funnels made with rubber from the south and into trenches in the fields, soaking into the parched earth. When he shifted to view the Unseen World, Talion saw the faint life-light of the seedlings brighten with the influx, drinking deep and growing stronger even as he watched. "There are a few dead patches that will need to be replaced as quickly as we can, but it looks like we got here in time. It's not a total loss."
"Good. It's been a while since I've had decent bread; hopefully Ishmoz can whip something up out of whatever we've got growing here."
"You do know that making bread doesn't require magic, right? Right?"
