by C S Marks
Though Gorgon was somewhat dismayed to find that at least some of the Elves’ arrows would indeed penetrate the Ulcas’ armor, he did not waver. If Gaelen had thought to turn him about so easily, she would be disappointed. The Ulcas moved ever closer, and the beleaguered archers now collectively retreated behind the rim of the hill. The Ulcas gave a lusty yell and charged after them. At least a dozen of the archers had been taken, and Gorgon reckoned that his folk would face fewer than one hundred foes on the plateau; in fact, there were about eighty. The attacking force had suffered greater loss in the ascent; in addition to the archers, the rock-slide traps had taken more than a few. But they still numbered nearly four hundred, and the defending force was thus outnumbered five to one. As they approached the rim, Galador winded his horn, sending the warning to the Elves on the plateau, who braced themselves for the assault.
As soon as they crested the rim the Ulcas found themselves amid a storm of arrows. The Black Command surged forward, hoping to overwhelm by sheer numbers, and swords were drawn. But the Elves were well positioned, and ready for them. The Ulcas had not anticipated the skill of their opponents, or the recklessness of Amandir. None who came near him survived his blade for more than a few seconds. He looked around wildly, hoping to see Gorgon among his enemies, but he could not.
Gorgon was overseeing the attack from the rim of the hill, surrounded by a guard made up of his original force of thirty, now reduced to nineteen. Kharsh stood with him. Gorgon was reasonably satisfied; his forces would soon overpower the Elves, and he wondered whether they now doubted the wisdom of holding the council. He had to admit that this hill was defensible, as the intricacy of the rugged terrain made attacking in large groups difficult. The Elves were skilled and had not been taken completely unaware, but they were still outnumbered. Gorgon looked down upon the fray with satisfaction. Things were not going well for them, no indeed! This would take less effort than he had at first predicted.
Without Ri-Aruin, the defenders would surely be overcome. The rain had not been their friend; it threatened to be their undoing, as the signal to Ri-Aruin’s forces could barely be seen. Galador had winded his beautiful horn again and again even as he fought, but the sound would be scattered by the pouring rain, and would no longer serve to alert and summon the King.
Rogond and Fima stood together, back to back, as they engaged the enemy with sword and axe. Rogond had cast his spear into the heart of one of the attackers, and there it remained, for he had yet to retrieve it.
One of Gorgon’s three lieutenants, large and fierce, leaped upon Rogond, who was hard put to defend himself. The Great Ulca wielded a heavy blade, and he struck a glancing blow to the side of Rogond’s head, hard enough that he was knocked to the ground, momentarily dazed.
Fima turned and buried his axe in the Ulca’s belly with a terrible cry, and as he withdrew it, he caught a blur of motion behind him. He turned and swung his axe with deadly force at his perceived attacker, only to miss Gaelen by a hair’s breadth as she leaped back, breathless.
"Ooh! Sorry!" he exclaimed, as she knelt beside Rogond.
He shook his head, and his eyes focused on her. "I’m all right," he said thickly.
"Relieved to hear it, but we have another problem," said Gaelen as she pulled her head back just in time to avoid a shaft that passed close enough to ruffle her hair. "The rain has soaked our brush piles, and they are not burning as brightly as needed. If we cannot raise the signal to Ri-Aruin, all is lost!"
Fima and Rogond looked at each other. "If he’s not already on his way here, I fear we are doomed," said Fima. "But don’t fear, little Wood-elf, you shall have your signal. Rogond, do you still have the gift I gave you in Mountain-home?"
Rogond brightened with sudden understanding. "I do indeed. It is still in my pack, in the council-tent."
"Then let’s make haste," said Fima, and the three of them made their way there with all speed. Rogond entered as Gaelen and Fima remained outside to defend him. He emerged moments later, his light pack slung over his shoulder, carrying the phial of maglos in his hand. "Remember, now, keep it from the rain until you are prepared,"
Fima admonished him. "Where will you ignite it?"
Rogond looked around as Gaelen sent two more arrows into an Ulca that was running toward them, waving its blade and yelling some incoherent battle-cry. It fell instantly. Rogond pointed to the northern edge of the rim, which would be highly visible to Ri-Aruin’s army.
Fima frowned and shook his head. "Let’s get as much use from this as possible, my friend. Set it off right in the middle of the plateau. I’ll wager these Ulcas have never seen anything like it, and will fall back before it. Don’t fear—Ri-Aruin will see it! Use only about half for this, I think."
Rogond took the maglos from the phial, leaving only about a third of it behind. He considered his course of action for a moment. Then, with Gaelen and Fima defending him, he made his way close enough to the large crowd of Ulcas battling in the center of the plateau that he could toss the very large and lethal chunk of maglos onto the wet ground at their feet. He yelled to the defenders to retreat, running as fast as he could away from the group of startled Ulcas.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the water worked through the thin film of oil that covered the soft, white metal, and the very ground seemed to explode with light. The Ulcas standing nearest were literally set aflame. The others ran shrieking, except for those that were unfortunate enough to turn and stare at the light when it first flared into brilliance. They wandered blind, heads bursting with pain and eyes streaming. They soon fell, pierced by the arrows of the Elves.
Had Gaelen known it, Ri-Aruin’s forces were even now surrounding the hill. They had divided into two groups, one of about two hundred that would storm the hill and assist the defenders, and another much larger group that would surround the entire perimeter, cutting off any chance of escape. They had arrived in their encampment the night before and had remained silent and secret, as only Wood-elves at home in the Greatwood can be, awaiting the signal to attack. Ri-Aruin had used Thorndil’s glass, the gift of Arialde, and it had proved invaluable in spotting the weak light of the smoldering signal-fires. As he drew near to the hill, Ri-Aruin hoped that the small attack force he was fielding would be able to get to the defenders quickly; the larger force would require time to surround the enemy and close all gaps such that none would escape.
When the maglos was ignited, Ri-Aruin and his folk were amazed, for they had not known of it. Surely, this was yet another signal from their folk that the battle was underway. The King hoped that it was no dark device or devilry, as he rushed now to the aid of his eldest son.
Unfortunately for the Ulcas, this weapon was not of their making, nor had they ever seen the like of it. They reeled back in pain and confusion, blinded by the incredible brilliance of the light, several still bellowing from the burns they had received from being too close. Gorgon had also looked at the light, but only for a moment. It was enough to sear his senses with pain and cast his black heart into a pit of fear. He had not expected this! He could see nothing for a few moments, then only points of light and spots of color and darkness, before his vision finally returned. By then, the flaring maglos had died down, but where it had been there was a blackened crater in the rocky, wet ground that no one would go near. He saw the flaming Ulcas, and the blinded ones falling to the arrows of the Elves, and he was afraid, for he had no force to answer this weapon.
The balance had shifted. At first the Ulcas had greatly outnumbered the Elves, who fought well and with valor but were slowly being overcome. Only about thirty of the defenders still fought; the rest had been wounded or slain. Nearly two hundred Ulcas had remained until the lighting of the maglos, but now the dark host was reduced by nearly one quarter, and Gorgon despaired as he knew that his chief hope of victory lay in superior numbers, for the Elves held the superior skill.
But then, Kharsh appeared at Gorgon’s side, and his ancient yellow eyes were filled with dr
ead. "We have spotted a force of Elves making their way up the hill, my lord, and they are dressed for battle. They will be here in a few moments. I fear it may be time to consider retreating, before they can cut off our escape."
Gorgon took Kharsh by the neck and shook him. "We cannot retreat without our prize! You know it. Now, get to work! I will go for Magra. You and your band take the King. Then, when they are dead, we shall withdraw."
Amandir stood near the northern slope, surrounded by defenders. The wind blew his long, wet hair back from his helmeted face, revealing the fury and frustration in his eyes. He had lived the last years of his life in the hope of accomplishing a single purpose, yet he had been denied. When he finally caught sight of Gorgon standing with his guard on the eastern rim of the hill, he began to work his way toward him, but the Ulcas were too many, and they drove him back. Now the Elves dwindled; if Ri-Aruin did not appear in the next few minutes Gorgon would prevail. Amandir knew that, whatever else befell, he would not leave the field of battle until Gorgon was dead. He had saved enough of his strength for that.
He had taken a small but painful wound to his right shoulder; it burned incessantly as he swung his blade. He caught sight of Gaelen, now wielding her short sword, slashing and ducking as she faced one of the armored Ulcas. The Ulca fell dead with an arrow in its eye, sent from Nelwyn’s bow, just as Gaelen’s short sword dealt another fatal blow beneath the left arm. Gaelen had spent her arrows and had not had time to glean more. One of her long knives was buried in the throat of an Ulca that now lay under several of its fellows, but she still had the other. She looked around, despairing at the number of remaining defenders and enemies, and then briefly made eye contact with Amandir. They held their gaze for only a few seconds, but much passed between them.
You must bring him down. No matter what else happens, we must work together to bring him down.
I will see it done. Look to the defense of your friends. I misjudged you—I regret that I did not know you on a happier time.
Amandir returned to the business of working his way toward Gorgon, as Gaelen then ran to Rogond and Fima. She did not take notice of him again until several minutes later, after the maglos had done its work, when Gorgon finally decided that the Lord Magra would soon breathe his last.
It was Gorgon’s plan to kill Magra and Ri-Aruin, then take his tokens and retreat, leaving the remainder of his army to face the attacking Wood-elves. He must not fail Wrothgar, and he would not. Amandir felt the presence of Gorgon as he worked his way near to where he stood with his few comrades, and as the Elf turned to gaze into the eyes of his mighty foe at last, he knew that the time had come.
Galador, Nelwyn, and Thorndil stood together, a formidable force against the enemy. Once drawn, none evaded Nelwyn’s bow, and if the Ulcas drew close enough to Galador or Thorndil they would be cut down by keen blades, wielded with skill that was far beyond them. Yet now all three were weary, and Thorndil’s blade was notched and growing dull with the constant engagement of his armored foes.
Wellyn battled nearby under the banner of the Greatwood, wearing the crown, robes, and armor of Ri-Aruin. Kharsh made for him, taking two of his most skilled archers, and as they drew closer, they attacked. Two of Wellyn’s defenders were taken as he looked around in alarm. Then one of the dark archers shot a second time, and Wellyn fell. Nelwyn and Gaelen both beheld him as he was thrown back to hit the wet ground hard, a black shaft protruding from the breastplate of Ri-Aruin’s armor. The curved, dark bows of the Ulcas held great power at close range, and the Wood-elves preferred lightweight armor or none at all, for it allowed them to remain swift and agile.
Gaelen and Nelwyn were both at his side in a matter of moments, along with Galador and Thorndil. They dragged Wellyn into the council-tent. He was still aware, but the impact had taken much of his strength. Galador struggled to remove the armor; Wellyn gave a strangled cry of agony as the breastplate came away, for the shaft came with it.
Kharsh was still under orders to return with the head of "Ri- Aruin", and he now stormed the council-tent with a considerable force behind him. Galador threw the large council-table over, using it to shield Wellyn, Nelwyn, and himself. Thorndil followed his example, crouching with Gaelen behind one of the smaller tables.
The Ulcas found the task of storming the tent more difficult than they had expected. Still, there was little the Company could do against such numbers, and they all realized that their lives would end here. Gaelen had thrown her second dagger, felling her foe, but she had no arrows, and the Ulcas were too many to engage with a blade. Nelwyn sent forth her last shaft, as did Galador, and their enemies closed in around them.
Wellyn turned toward Nelwyn, grimacing as he drew the shaft of the black arrow from the breastplate of his father’s armor. He was pale, and his strength was doubtful, but his eyes were clear as he handed it to her. He would heal if tended to, but it would not matter, for Kharsh and his company would be certain to kill them all in a few moments. Wellyn handed the arrow to Nelwyn.
"Send it back to them. Send it from me," he whispered, and closed his eyes.
Gaelen did not know the extent of Wellyn’s hurt, and she despaired, for they had been fast friends for nearly all of his life and for much of hers. She knew that she could escape the tent by simply rolling beneath the silken wall, but she could not leave her friends. She would not be able to aid in bringing down Gorgon; she would have to rely on Amandir, Rogond, and Fima. She smiled for a brief moment as she prepared to make her stand, for she had noticed that she could now be at least partly aware of Gorgon’s mood whether he held the mirror or not, and she was now sensing his desperation.
She turned to Thorndil. "I will not fall like a cornered animal, Aridan. Will you stand with me?"
Thorndil looked into her bright eyes and nodded. Gaelen gave a cry and charged from her concealment with Thorndil beside her. They rallied around Wellyn, defending him to the last, Nelwyn releasing the black arrow still stained with his blood. Then, as all seemed hopeless, the Ulcas began to fall forward, taken by the sword of Rogond, the axe of Fima, and the bow of Oriana of Eádros.
Oriana had observed the wounding of Wellyn from her place among the rocks, fighting alongside the Elves of Tal-sithian, who had rallied to Oryan. She saw Galador and Nelwyn drag Wellyn into the tent, along with Thorndil and Gaelen, pursued by an impossibly large host of Ulcas led by Kharsh. She knew they would never survive without help, and she despaired, for her comrades were otherwise engaged and could not aid the Company. Then she heard the voice of Rogond through the melee:
"Gaelen! Gaelen! To me! To me!"
Oriana knew then that Rogond and Fima would serve, and she left her place of relative safety, making for the Aridan and the dwarf. Fima was holding up admirably for one of his age, considering he had spent the last fifty years in Mountain-home and had seen little of battle. He was hard as iron, but he was growing weary. Rogond was near panic, for he could not see Gaelen and feared that she had fallen.
Oriana ran up to them, breathless. "I know where your Gaelen is, and she is in dire need, as is your friend Galador. Follow me, and bring all the skills you have!"
As they drew nigh the tent, Rogond and Fima looked with dismay upon the large crowd of Ulcas besieging it. They prayed that their friends were not yet slain as they charged forward.
Amandir stood at last before Gorgon, alone upon the rim of the hill. He had led the creature away from the battle, for he knew that Gorgon sought to kill him, in the belief that he was Lord Magra of Mountain-home. His companions had remained behind at his order—this was between Gorgon and himself. Gorgon knew that Magra was a mighty foe. Wrothgar had warned him of it, yet he had seen little evidence of power beyond that of a skilled Elven warrior. That, he could deal with. He faced Amandir with confidence, for he was yet strong, and he perceived that his foe, having spent much of his strength already in the conflict, was flagging and would fall quickly. "So, the Mighty Lord Magra stands before me, preparing his defense. I had expec
ted more from you, Èolo. Yet it has been so with all your folk that have fallen before me. Only too easy," he taunted. "Prepare yourself, for I will have your head as tribute to the Dark Power. You are vanquished. Why not make your passing easier?"
Amandir then removed the helmet he had been wearing, fully revealing his face to his enemy. "I have been prepared, mis-begotten monstrosity, since the loss of my beloved gave life to your ill- conceived existence. For I am the one whose heart was bound to Brinneal, your mother."
The storm had risen to its full power, and the rain ran down Gorgon’s dark armor in gleaming rivulets. He winced as a bright fork of lightning stung his sensitive eyes, then glared down at Amandir, snarling.
"You are not Magra?"
"Most assuredly not. I am Amandir, the one who will end your miserable life this night. You have been deceived."
Gorgon froze, his confidence draining from him. Though he had been somewhat suspicious of a trap, he had genuinely believed that Magra and Ri-Aruin were present. Now he was momentarily stunned by the news that he had been taken in completely and that Wrothgar would not receive his expected prize. Gorgon then knew that he was probably doomed, despite the outcome of the conflict.
