Twenty-One: Event Horizon
Normally, as guests in the home of an Easterling, courtesy demanded that their hosts plan events to keep them occupied, sights for them to see - but this was not that kind of visit. They rested for the remaining two days, undisturbed except for the twins coming to talk and dine with them, all of them sharing stories of their lands and peoples. Then, on the dawn of the fourth day, they accepted the preserved food the Fans gave them and bade them farewell before flying further still to the southern coast.
Legolas looked mournfully out over the water, glittering in the morning sun, as they landed on the sandy shore for one last rest before making the crossing. "The Sea," he sighed. "I have heard the crashing of the waves, the crying of the gulls, and now I will know no rest on the shores of Middle-earth."
The Sea-Longing of the Elves. Talion had never felt it, either on his own or through Celebrimbor, though Maglor had explained it to him, or tried to. The irresistible desire to sail out onto the endless waves and seek the Straight Road and Valinor beyond, but even as it was described to him, all he heard was the echoes of the Doom: And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret…
He said nothing, but removed his greaves and boots, rolled up the legs of his trousers, and walked in the shallows with Horza. The Orc was peering curiously into the water, which was clear and blue like the sky overhead, very unlike the dark waters of the Sea of Núrnen, which were rich but cloudy with sediment from its tributaries. The seas were full of life here, too, schools of brightly-colored fish and other creatures flashing through the surf and weaving through a strange mass of living stone further out, sprawling over the sand just under the waves.
The necromancer was tempted to strip off his armor and swim out to it, just to see what it was (why was his Ring telling him that this lump of oddly-shaped rock was alive? What was it?), but sadly they did not have the time. After one last rest, Daerwen took to the skies and rode the rising winds south and just slightly east over the strait between the Southern Reaches and the Dark Lands.
Through their bond, Talion felt Daerwen's nerves grow tight when the coast dropped out of sight behind them. Truth be told, he was more than a little nervous himself; though he had sailed on boats and ships in the past, neither he nor Daerwen had ever flown out of sight of land before. Even in the center of the Sea of Rhûn, they had always seen the shore if the dragon flew high enough. Now there was only the deep blue waters of the strait below, and all around them.
The necromancer kept a soothing hand pressed to the dragon's scales, ready to call for aid at a moment's notice. If worst came to worst, he was prepared to get down on his knees and beg Tinnaur to return and carry them the rest of the way over the Sea - but in the end, there was no need. After two hours of gliding on the winds and occasional flight, a smudge appeared on the horizon before them and eventually resolved into a great desert, larger than any Talion had ever seen, vast dunes of golden sand rolling straight down to the blue water.
Daerwen landed on the shore, up past where even the highest tide reached, then hissed. "The sun is shining full on it, but the sand is cold," she said, lips curled up off her fangs. "She may not have seized control of this land yet, but Adûnaphel's influence has spread far beyond the borders of Meresankh and Essam's homeland."
When Talion turned his gaze to the Unseen World, he saw that she was right; threads of fell sorcery snaked like vines over the dunes and down into the water. They lay thin here for the moment, only beginning their invasion, but doubtless they would spread far and fast if the Black Númenórean was left unchecked. No doubt they had already swallowed the lands to the south, drawing power from every living thing and twisting it to the other wraith's will wherever they could.
The Nazgûl did not disturb them for now, nor did he dismount to stretch as the others did, in case the spells could sense him if he touched them. Instead, he called silently into the Land beyond the Farthest Shore. Meresankh, we've arrived on the northern coast. Where to from here?
Jingyi was listening also, and whispered to him in translation. Follow the shore south and west, until you reach the Fan of the Setting Sun; there you will find one river split into many, spilling into the sea, like your 'Ethir Anduin' in South Gondor. There is a tall lighthouse on one of the islands at the northernmost mouth, and a city beyond called 'Hut-Waret', "House of the Region", now with few people. Follow the river past two more towns, and the next town you reach is Men-nefer. You will know it when you see it.
The necromancer thanked them, then passed the news to the others. Yet as he pulled away, Meresankh whispered, and Jingyi translated once more. The prince Tjesh, the current Per-Ao's younger brother, is in hiding in Hut-Waret, with trusted friends and advisors and guardsmen. If you will send Meresankh to them, she will warn them to be ready for Adûnaphel's downfall.
I will.
It took two days to reach Hut-Waret. Daerwen flew by day, but even with no clouds in the sky, Anar's light seemed thin and pale, and offered little warmth. The others slept while she flew, huddled close together and bundled tight in every blanket and cloak they had between them. Then they guarded her at night while she rested on the shore, as close to the water as they dared and as far from the corrupted land as they could.
And there was very much a need for guarding. They, too, heard the howls and roars and screams of beasts in the distance, sometimes even cries very like those of men - and even once a baby wailing somewhere nearby, beyond the light of their fire fed by reeds Meresankh said were called tjufy in the local tongue. Normally the plants were very green and vibrant, and used to make the local equivalent of parchment, but under Adûnaphel's power, they had grown dry and desiccated, better suited to kindling than knowledge-keeping. But they burned brightly, and their light reflected off evil eyes in the greater darkness.
There was no moon in the sky, no stars. Only pure void all around them.
Talion did not rest. The further they went into the Dark Lands, into Adûnaphel's influence, the less he needed it, and the stronger he became; he barely needed to think of the dead to hear their voices clear as a shout, to feel the spirits of his closest friends and allies following the beacon of his Ring to answer his call when it came. The Seen and Unseen Worlds became as one, and he sensed the spirits and energies of the world around him in an ever-widening sphere, on the ground but also high into the sky above and deep into the earth below.
They arrived at Hut-Waret at sundown. The streets were dark and already deserted, every window tightly shuttered and every door locked and barred. Talion called Meresankh and Essam both and let them head out into the city, seeking the prince and his companions, while the rest of them took shelter in an abandoned building near the center of the city, strangely untouched by the vines of fell sorcery snaking over the land. It was larger and grander and built of stone where much of the city was baked mud brick, painted bright colors with strange symbols carved into the tall pillars before the doorway and more covering the walls within. The building looked to have been a temple, but if the statue of the goddess at the back of the main hall still had worshippers, they had not made offerings to her in a long time, or even swept her floors clean of sand. Like the streets, it was completely deserted - no doubt because the main hall had no doors and was open to the elements, with little shelter to be found within.
The necromancer turned his mind to the Farthest Shore and found the lingering soul of an acolyte who had been slain on the temple steps by a horrible beast, a boar grown even larger than a bear with glowing eyes full of malice and tusks as long as a man's arm. Talion's lips went tight at the sight of it in the spirit's memory. Wordlessly he told the spirit that he did not want to summon him back into the world while such horrors yet roamed; he only wanted a broom.
The spirit told him where he could find one. He went and got it, then thanked the spirit and sent him on to the Farthest Shore and the peace that lay beyond. The wraith cleared a section of stone for Daerwen to curl up at the foot of the goddess's statue, then carefully swept the rest of the floor as well. The king found a broom of his own to help, and the others some rags to clean the dust off the statue and her ritual objects, revealing that the stone was polished to a fine luster, the gold and silver beaten clear and smooth, and the jewels finely cut and set. Gimli complimented the craftspeople on their work, Horza humming in agreement as he peered at the carvings, though there was no one else around to hear.
Between them they cleaned up the temple as best they could, sweeping the sand out and shaking the dust onto the streets. By midnight they had done all they could, so they, too, settled down to sleep. Talion had intended to stay awake, to keep watch and guard the others while they rested for the battle ahead, but when he closed his eyes for only a moment to blink, he opened them again on the Farthest Shore.
Where the Dark Lands of Middle-earth were empty and sinister, cold and withering under Adûnaphel's influence, the Farthest Shore was as clear and vibrant as ever, sandy as the Dark Lands were but still lush and green with living tjufy and tall palms, a sweet breeze from the Beyond filling his lungs with the scent of strange plants and waters. He climbed to his feet and stretched with a sigh, then closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight for a moment, letting it warm and refresh him before he turned back.
He had arrived on the Shore without warning, and just as suddenly he knew he was no longer alone. His eyes shot open once more.
On the other side of the stream stood a woman like none he had ever seen before. She was of a height with him, barefoot, and clothed like Meresankh in a long dress of linen as white as new snow. But she also wore rings and bracelets and armbands and a wide banded collar of silver - perhaps even mithril - all inlaid with a rainbow of bright jewels, and precious stones as big as his thumbs dangled from her ears. She wore a crown of sorts as well, a band of gold on her forehead with a serpent rearing up, with a headdress of cloth striped gold and blue that spilled down over her shoulders.
What was most unusual about her was that she had the head of a great cat.
Her fur was dark and luxurious, silken and well-kept, her whiskers long and her nose warm pink, her pointed ears pricked towards him. Her eyes were azure like the sky, shading dark to light from the rim to the center.
Talion swallowed thickly. He knew not how he knew, but know he did: he stood in the presence of an Ainu of great power, not one who had come down into the world like the Valar but who still made their presence felt within the walls of Arda.
He bowed to her, deeper than he had to anyone before her - would have kowtowed as the Easterlings did to the Son of Heaven on his throne if it would spare his people her wrath - and when he straightened again, she smiled.
TALION THE GRAVEWALKER - LAST OF THE NINE - LORD OF MORDOR
"Talion?"
The wraith jerked awake, shooting upright before blinking and looking around.
The sun had just risen in the east, shining weak, watery light directly into the temple. The others were all still asleep, bundled together under the fan of Daerwen's wing.
Meresankh and Jingyi were crouched next to him, Essam standing further back, and all were looking at him in concern. "Are you well, Talion?" the Easterling general asked. "You didn't seem to hear us when we called for you, and I couldn't reach you on the Farthest Shore."
"…yes," he said warily. "Yes, I'm all right. I was just…"
He shot a glance back at the statue of the goddess. It was the very image of the Ainu he had seen on the Shore.
"…dreaming very deeply indeed," he finished. Nothing had attacked them in the night, so he let it lie and turned back to the shades. "Were you able to find the prince?"
Meresankh nodded and smiled in relief, shoulders sagging as if a great weight had been lifted off her. "He is in good health," said Jingyi, "and relieved beyond words that we have come to slay Adûnaphel. He asks that you protect his people when fighting her, if there are any left in Men-nefer to protect, but do not worry about the palace and the city itself; he will level it and move elsewhere when she is gone, for the land is sure to be tainted by her presence."
"A pity. If it's anything like this temple, I'm sure it's beautiful." He stood, and the shades did so as well. "Is he coming with us now, or following behind?"
Jingyi and Meresankh went back and forth before the Easterling general said, "Following behind."
"Then we will keep the peace until he arrives and takes command - if indeed there is anyone there still alive and not yet twisted into a monster. But that will give me time to undo her spells, at least, though I cannot say if the people will turn back into people."
Jingyi grimaced. "It will be a long time before the Dark Lands recover from this."
"Yes," Talion agreed sadly, "it will, and we are all too far away to send much in the way of aid. But we will do what we can while we are here.
"Essam, did you want to fight Adûnaphel directly alongside me?"
The warrior nodded fiercely. "I cannot change what has happened, but I can stop Per-Ao Tiu from hurting anyone else - including himself."
Talion nodded in reply, then became aware of movement before the temple steps. A child, filthy from head to toe and dressed in a similarly dirty tunic that fell to their knees, staggered up to the bottom step and stopped there, staring up at them with dark eyes. There was no one else on the street.
The proportions of its body were slightly off, just enough to make a chill run up the wraith's spine.
Meresankh spoke to it, in that tone parents used with children to reassure them, but before she could take a step toward it, the necromancer caught her arm, holding her in place, though he did not take his eyes off the child. It tilted its head and stared at him - and then its lips parted in a grin that revealed teeth like a forest of needles in its mouth.
The shades all recoiled as one even as Talion whipped Urfael from its sheath, the blade already blazing with necrotic power. The thing opened its mouth, and its tongue shot at them like a snake - no, not like a snake; it was a snake, blood-red and sinister with its own mouth full of needle-fangs. Its wicked jaws snapped shut around Urfael's edge, trying to wrest the blade from his hands - but then it withdrew just as fast, blackened by the death-energy of Isildur's Ring. Jingyi and Essam had the same idea and moved together as one, severing the head of the snake with their own ghostly blades.
The child-creature howled in rage, skittering back and away from them, and Talion heard the others wake with a start behind him even as he lunged after the thing. Its hands transformed into snakes as well and struck at him as well - he severed them at the wrist. Its flesh resisted his swing, but not enough to prevent the wounds. The thing screamed, very like a Nazgûl, high and fearful, and started to unfurl, its dirty tunic bursting at the seams - but what fell shape it would have taken, he never learned. The wraith cleaved its head from its shoulders, then brought his blade back around and plunged it through what he assumed was its heart, bearing it to the ground and pinning it there with his full weight.
Even without its head, the body thrashed and tried to bind him in its coils, though it was already shivering and slackening in its death throes. But at last the thing went still, and crumbled into white sand before his eyes, releasing the spirit of the child it must have been once: an orphan most likely, just as dirty and downtrodden, perhaps even orphaned when his parents were slain by the monster that took his skin for its own.
"Meresankh," Talion said quietly. He called the child's spirit into visibility with barely a thought, and this time let her approach to speak with him. "Ask him for the names of his parents, so I can call them to go with him to the other side. Even though what lays beyond is joy and peace, no one so young should have to walk the path alone."
He was too young to know them, but a few soft questions from the advisor narrowed it down to a handful of the local people. The necromancer reached for them, then let the parents through and witnessed their joyful reunion, the mother weeping as she swept her son up in her arms, the boy crying as well and clinging to her, and the father wrapping them all in a fierce embrace, silent tears pouring down his face. There was a brother as well, and a sister, also slain, and they, too, came through to be reunited with their young brother, hugging him tight.
Then they all bowed to the wraith, thanking him without words for setting their family's smallest member free at last. "Go in peace," he said quietly, and released them to seek the Farthest Shore.
Horza came down the steps to stand next to him as the family vanished. "That was nice and all," he said, "but did the other Shrieker sense you?"
"I don't know," the Nazgûl replied, turning to head back up the steps, "but whether she did or didn't, we need to get moving." He shot one last glance at the statue of the cat-headed Ainu at the back of the hall, then looked to the others. "Eat fast; we leave as soon as I finish checking our gear."
While he did exactly that, he also called up the other spirits of the restless dead that he felt wandering the streets of Hut-Waret, cutting them loose from the pain and grief that bound them within the walls of Arda and sending them on to the Farthest Shore where they would be at peace at last. He very carefully did not look through the veil to see if the cat goddess was greeting her worshippers as they stepped over - or if there were other Ainur there instead. Then he knelt at Daerwen's side. Are you all right to keep going, sweetheart? I know you haven't eaten in several days, but I don't think there's anything here that's safe for you to eat unless we buy or steal from the locals.
She nuzzled him.Thank you, Adar, but I'll be alright until after we kill Adûnaphel. Perhaps the prince will vouch for us, provide something - even if only to see us away from his lands as fast as possible. You are one of the Nine as she is, and I doubt the Dark Lands even know dragons exist; I do not think they will want us to linger.
Very true. Very true.
The Three Hunters and Horza each ate a large piece of lembas to hearten them for the battle ahead, and offered some to Talion and Daerwen as well. The dragon swallowed a whole loaf in a single bite, then wrinkled her nose. "That tasted… odd. Not bad, just… odd."
"You've had bread before, sweetheart."
"Yes, but nothing quite like that." She smacked her lips and scraped her tongue over her fangs to catch the lingering crumbs. "It's… interesting. If you can make it yourself, Adar, I would like to try it again."
"If we survive this battle, I will gladly make the attempt, even if only for you. Let's move out."
AN: Just in case it wasn't clear, the "living rock" that Talion encounters is coral. Also, according to extensive googling, "tjufy" is what the ancient Egyptians called the papyrus plant, and Per-Ao is a rough transliteration of the hieroglyphics for "pharaoh". Also also I know technically "Egypt" should be in the Hither Lands instead of the Dark Lands in Middle-earth, but fuck it we ball.
