by Wayne Mee
Timin gave a shout for joy and began to dance a little jig around the still silent Thorn. "Did you hear that, cousin?! Lady Zoean and the others are on their way! They'll be here soon!"
Thorn gazed at his life-long companion with cold eyes. "Aye, I hear --- but others come as well, and He is not far behind."
Before Timin could ask what Thorn was muttering about, a horn sounded and Gildar's party crested the next hill to the south. Moments later all were together, smiles and handclaps were warmly exchanged. Mithdar showed Bar Gildar the entrance to the Delgi tunnel while Zoean strode over to Erin.
"Well, 'Raven', I see my people's armour kept you alive once more!"
Erin flashed her his winning smile. "That, darlin' girl, 'n the thought o' you weepin' over my mutilated body. But how came you here so quickly? Faith!, t'was not myself you were frettin' over?"
She snorted and gave her dark tresses a shake. "I tired of the waiting. We were more than half way here when I seemed to hear Mythdarian's voice inside my head. He seemed to stand before me, urging us to come on in haste. Moments later we came upon Diswainal, near death from a wicked wound. He too bid us go forth with all speed --- then --- then he died. Quickly, but in terrible pain." Her voice sank to a whisper. "The wound itself was slight but the blade was poisoned!"
Erin wrapped her in his arms and she did not protest, tears coursing down her fair cheeks. The fiery princess was for the moment only a frightened lass --- but only for a moment. She pushed him away and glared at him. "Keep your groping hands to yourself, manling! We Nim-Loth know well the price of bloody war! And now, where are these foul Karns of yours? I would wet my blade on them, and so send Diswainal to meet Great Lear well avenged!"
Erin was about to explain that those few that had survived the fight had fled when Flynn came rushing into their midst. The Narthrond bowed before Zoean, but it was to Erin that he spoke, his voice clearly shaking. "More Karns are coming! And something else is with them!"
***
They had moved through the door fairly quickly, yet over three score of armed fighters going single file still takes time. The body wedged in the entrance did not help, and it was well past sundown before they were all gathered in a large cavern some ways back from the door. Cynwulf and the Delgii had tried to shut it, but it was no use. Once past the wedged body, whoever was following them would have easy access to the tunnel.
"Now," Mithdar said to Flynn as torches were passed out and lit. "What was this 'something else' you saw?"
Flynn was calmer now, yet it was clear to all that what he had seen had shaken him badly.
"Leading a group of a hundred or more Karns was a man --- at least it was of man size. He wore a kind of shimmering armour that seemed to suck up the very light itself! And his eyes, Mithdar! Even at a distance I could see they burned like the coals of a fire! I felt a wave of fear wash over me at the very sight of him!"
"A 'Nar-Graith'!," Mithdar hissed. "I had hoped against hope that it would not be so, but I fear now that we are indeed in dire straights!"
Erin frowned. "N' just who or what be this terrible 'Nar-whatever'? Be he man or Karn, he be but one more foe, n' sharp Glenrig here cares not if her enemies swim, walk or fly!"
"T'is plain that you know not of what you speak, Erin, or you would not be so quick to draw your sword against a Nar-Graith, for they are terrible indeed! Good Flynnial here is a Nim-Loth brave and true, yet even his stout heart quailed when he beheld one of the Shadow's Spawn!"
Erin checked his temper, but with difficulty. "I repeat, good tinker, what BE these 'Nar-Graiths'?!"
Mithdar glanced about at the group and lowered his voice. "Lucfelian's lieutenants! Servants that followed Him down into the Fiery Pit ages ago when He was first slain!" The mage's voice dropped even lower. "They are the literally the Walking Dead'; but not slow paced shuffling corpses, but swift and deadly, immune to wind, water and iron, whose very presence make most men quiver!"
Erin drew himself up into a haughty pose, though his words were only a cold, fierce whisper. "Quiver or no, the bastard will not get past me while I still draw breath."
"None doubt it, Erin," Mithdar said; "But it is also said that 'when the Nar-Graith come, The Shadow Lord is never far behind'!"
***
The Nar-Graith Skatha was angry. That dung-eating fool Shag had done the impossible; he had botched things again! Despite his ire, the captain of the Nar-Graith allowed a cruel sneer to crease his pale features as he thought of ripping out the miserable Karn's black heart --- but not right away. No, Shag had failed him once too often, and the fool's punishment must be slow and extremely painful, but first there were these 'others' to be dealt with!
He lashed out at the sweating Karns around him as he urged them on to the place where the dying messenger had indicated. The Karns leapt out of his way, trampling over themselves as they hastened to obey.
'Stoners' the witless messenger had said. 'Stoners and some hated 'Nim'. 'Manlings' too, along with two beardless runts that looked like Stoners but weren't. No more than two fists in all, but good killers!' Skatha had demanded more, but the imbecile had died too quickly.
Dwill, one of two other Nar-Graith, caught up with Skatha and saluted, his red eyes glowing like burning coals through the slits of his helmet. Dwill's breath had the familiar stench of rotten meat to it.
"Thy will, Lord Skatha?"
Skatha adjusted his long, purple cape before pointing ahead. "See you yonder hill? There is a door to a cave half way up. The doorway is blocked Take half of these carrion and get thee thither and clear the passage!" "Kill all, m'lord?"
"All that ye find, but mark this well --- save for the two small beardless ones."
"Beardless Stoners, Great Lord?"
Skatha rounded on his Second with such speed that Dwill saw not the hand move, but the pain was there just the same. Skatha lowered his hand and the pain vanished. The memory however, lingered.
"'Wee'ns', Dwill. Creatures from the long ago past --- but I forget, that was before you came to us." Skatha's glowing eyes paled somewhat; his voice was almost a caress. "Thow hast risen quickly through the ranks, Dwill. You hold promise. I asked The Master Himself to appoint thee as my Second. Kar'im was greatly angered."
"Kar'im is a great slayer, m'lord!"
"True, yet Kar'im lacks one important trait, Dwill --- cunning. See that you do not!"
The Nar-Graith saluted and strode off, calling orders as he went. Skatha motioned for his servant to bring him his shield and helm. As he waited his thin lips formed a single word.
The word was 'Shard'.
***
Bar Gildar was more than a little angry. He disliked these 'Delgii holes' and the fact that he and his Lake Warders were forced to flee from the enemy galled him all the more! He had wanted to return and give battle to the fast approaching Karns but both Cynwulf and Mithdar had been adamant that they press on. Zoean had agreed with the Rif-Dag and the mage and so the Lake Warden now found himself plodding along with the others through a series of shadow filled caverns. The flickering torches reflected off grotesque rock forms as the party followed a worn path beside an underground river, yet even over the rushing water the sounds of pursuit could be heard behind them.
"They gain on us, Bar Gildar." Dinn Orthral's voice was calm and steady, and though his wound hurt him, the aging Nim-Loth refused to let it show. Gildar frowned at his first officer and continued on. Up ahead Cynwulf called for a halt.
"What now?!", Gildar demanded, pushing his way to the front of the line. Cynwulf ignored him and spoke to the two Delgii in their own tongue. The path split and their seemed some confusion as to which one to take.
"How like a bearded Delgi to lead us down into a dark hole and then get us all lost in the process!"
Erin leaned close to the haughty Lake Warden. "If asses could talk instead o' bray, they'd still be asses!"
Before Gildar could reply, Cynwulf held up his hand. "My thanks, Longshanks, but I need no help eith
er from yon Nim-Loth nor you! Long have my people forsaken the ancient ways of delving deep in the Earth Mother, preferring rather to dwell under the open sky and live off the bounty of Her fields, forests and streams. I 'knew' of this tunnel but I have never 'been' here before, nor have my two companions."
"Then were ARE lost?!", Gildar barked.
"Not 'lost', for, given time to explore, we shall find the way."
"Tell that to the Karns that even now follow on our tail!"
All listened as Gildar's words faded into the dancing shadows. Behind them the yells and shouts of the enemy grew louder. Cynwulf reached behind him and took his great axe out of his back harness. "So I shall, Nim-Loth, for it seems you shall have your battle after all."
***
Moments later the Karns rushed into the large cavern, only to see two score of their pray on the far side in a semi circle with their backs against a wall. Torches had been thrust into the ground both at the entrance and in the center of the large, underground hall. The dancing flames lit up the Karn's side while obscuring the Nim-Loth's. Then a tall figure all in shimmering armour stepped forth, both his eyes glowed a dull red. Seeing his enemy on the far side and believing them cornered, the Nar-Graith drew his log, shimmering blade and screamed out a blood-curdling cry in a tongue that had not been heard by Delgi or Nim-Loth in over two millennium:
'Cirimoth nui sith!' --- 'Death to all!'
Kar'im, the third Nar-Graith, led the charge across the well lit cavern. They had almost reached the center torches when Dinn Orthal gave the command for the archers crouching in the shadows to fire. From both sides arrows thudded deep into the leather armour of the onrushing Karns. Volley after volley brought them down in scores. Those that somehow survived fell back in a panic, only to be set upon by the rest of the party as they leapt out of the shadows on either side of the entrance.
Kar'im, realizing his folly too late, tried to flee. Even though a dozen arrows pierced him, he bled not, for such was the power of the Nar-Graith, the 'Walking Dead'. Still, even Kar'im's unnatural powers could not save him from Cynwulf's terrible axe. With one tremendous blow the Rif-Dag severed the head of the Third Nar-Graith, leaving the body a twitching, swiftly decaying mass.
The slaughter was great and swift, and in moments only a handful of Karns remained to bolt back up the way they had come. Two Nar-Graith lingered by the entrance. The taller one in the purple cloak shook off the hand of the other, then turned to look back into the cave. For several heartbeats there was silence, then an eerie laughter filled the interior. Skatha's armour seemed to shimmer, while at the same time sucked up the light from the flickering torches.
"Well done, fools! I did not think thow had the courage to face me, but I see I was wrong." Skatha's use of the Common Tongue was like rocks banging around in a barrel. "Be the old dotard Mythdarian with thee?"
Mithdar stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Dinn Orthal. "I am hear, foul Mouth of Darkness! Get ye hence to thy Master and trouble the Delgii of Tyree no longer!"
Skatha sneered. "Long has it been since last we met, Greybeard! You seem even more feeble now than ever."
"Feeble or no, we have withstood you and your filthy carrion this day, and we shall do so again if need be!"
Skatha spit on the ground. Where it landed the grass shriveled. "Simpering old fool! Think thee that I care for a few miserable Karns! They are like leaves upon the trees to me! But Kar'im is another matter! Ye shall pay dearly for him --- dearly indeed!"
Erin made to move toward the tall form but Zoean held him back. Skatha's burning eyes turned in their direction. He raised his thin hand and pointed. "And what's this? A Nim-bitch and her manling familiar?! Move not, 'little man', for though the day be thine, thy hour is near!"
Erin broke away, Glenrig raised --- and Skatha closed his hand into a fist. Though pain unlike anything he had felt before coursed through his body, still Erin kept on.
Skatha's smug look turned first to one of surprise and then something rarer --- fear. As Erin closed the distance between them Skatha screamed something in an ancient tongue and bolted back up the tunnel. Skatha's second, Dwill, bared his teeth, hissed, then ran after Skatha. Erin, sweat pouring from him, went down on one knee and would have fallen if Zoean and Kel had not caught him.
"Idiot!", Zoean cried. "He could have killed you!"
The tall weapons-man looked into the wide eyes of the Nim-Lothian princess. "Nay, darlin' girl! That shimmering quiffer was scared shitless!"
Dinn Orthal turned to Mithdar. "Lord Mythdarian, what did the Nar-Graith just say?"
Mithdar's voice was barely a whisper. "'May The Shadow claim ye all!'"
By mid-morning of the next day they had made their way into the stronghold of the Delgii of Tyree.
***
Chapter 32:'THE CAUSEWAY'
The Hooded Man felt a sudden jolt pass through the body he now inhabited. It was a better body than most of the scrawny wretches Skatha found for him; taller, younger, more muscular. Most of them couldn't last a fortnight before the 'fevers' began. His restless, fiery spirit always burned them out from within, causing a trembling of the limbs and a sluggishness of the lungs and heart. This new 'host', however, was different. It should last a full moon or more before the need for a new human shell arose; certainly time enough to see the stiff-necked Stoners grovel at his feet!
Yet there had been a jolt, an odd tingling sensation. Hazy, unpleasant emotions not felt for a millennium bubbled their way to the surface of his consciousness, intruding on the pleasures of the present. He had been enjoying the physical responses of both his new 'shell' and that of a female creature Skatha had procured for him. The bitch's screams had brought him to the very brink of ecstasy when the sudden sensation swept over him, washing the sweet lust from his mind and replacing it with an even older emotion --- rage. There was another emotion there as well, the sister of Rage, but he pushed it away with a flexing of his will, for 'Fear' was utterly foreign to the Hooded Man ---yet a part of him knew it was there just the same.
He stood erect, allowing the cringing female to skitter away like the frightened animal she was. It mattered not, for Lucfelian now knew what had happened, knew the reason for the tingling 'jolt'.
One of his Nar-Graith was no longer. It had returned to the abyss from which he had conjured it, but by another hand than his own!
"Skatha?!", he hissed.
Only the night wind answered. Two other Nar-Graith stood guard outside his tent, but neither would dare lift the flap and intrude upon their liege lord unto whom they had sworn themselves body and soul --- most especially the soul!
Another ripple of fear surfaced, one that, if left unchecked, might well rip apart the thin lifeline by which he clung to the solid reality of this world. The fear was an old one, a 'bosom companion' through the long, empty, hate-filled years of his exile. Countless decades in which he struggled to keep his spirit intact while he searched for the one thing that would allow him to once again stride the green fields of Oma-Var as a living, breathing god!
Shard!
And he was close now! Something deep within his being told him, called to him, almost as though the treasured black blade had a life of its own --- for indeed, in a way it did. After Lucfelian's physical defeat on the Plains of Fangor over two millennium ago, the greater part of what remained of his essence he passed into Shard, made from the broken pieces of his longsword, Arack. The power that flowed from the Black Blade gave shape and substance to the 'shadow' that he had been reduced to. Strength returned. He gathered the Nar-Graith to him. Dominion over the creatures of Oma-Var once again was within his grasp --- then the thrice-cursed Ween's had revolted and escaped into the wilds, taking Shard with them!
Centuries past while he sought out the thieves, but they had seemingly vanished off the face of the earth. No word of them came until, by chance, one of his minions brought to him a black shortsword taken from a dead Stoner.
Though it was not Shard, the very fact
that something like it existed made him cast his gaze toward the distant Tol Eldars and the Stoner settlement of Tyree in particular.
And so he had conceived of a plan. As the 'Hooded Man', he would renter the world of the living, find Shard, and use it's power to once again walk the world as a living god. He started by conjuring up the Nar-Graith. Skatha first, then the others. His 'immortal dozen' Then, using living bodies that Skatha brought him as temporary 'hosts', he subjugated the dim-witted, superstitious but fierce Karns and forged them into his army --- an army that he used that he used to search for Shard. Like a hound sniffing out a hare, that search eventually led him to the Highland Delgii of Tyree. And now, when the grubbing Stoners were almost within his grasp, someone or something had killed one of his unkillable Nar-Graith!
As his blood cooled, he knew that Skatha still walked the land. He would have felt much more than a ripple in the fabric of space and time if his chief lieutenant had been taken from him. Over the long years of waiting, Skatha had become very close to him. Now that the waiting was all but over, the First Nar-Graith, long ago King of the fierce Balikie, was an important cog on the wheel of his grand ambitions.
No, it was not Skatha. Nor was it the younger one, Skatha's 'pet', Dwill. That left Kar'im! Wild, impetuous Kar'im! Always first to the kill, always last to leave! Long ago warrior-chief of the bloody clans of Jarlish-Xyx! Third Captain of the 'Deathless' --- now somehow dead!
Rage filled him once more. The spirit that had in ages past been Lucfelian the Fair-Foul, outcast son of Blessed Oma, known to his minions as Gorgoroth, The Shadow, The Hooded Man, lifted up his borrowed body's head and howled like the beast whose shape he sometimes took on, a black wolf of the high mountains.
"Cirimoth nui sith!!", the distorted voice screamed; 'Death to them all!'
***
Tem-Riflin Dingle greeted them with open arms, his deep voice booming out a colorful welcome. The rest of the battle-weary Delgii also let slip their usually stoic manner and gathered round the returned Rif-Dag. All wanted to hear just how they had managed to slip through the blockade, the number of Lake Warders they had brought with them and, most important of all, how long before the rest of the Nim-Loth from Gareth Withrin would arrive.