• Prologue

    Black. Darkness crept its icy fingers into all corners of the Far North. The sunlight only showed itself in the frozen summers; the moon was the only light here.
    The dark was only a minor detail to the messenger. Advanced vision allowed the black, birdlike creature to see farther into the darkness. Coal-black eyes darted from the horizon, to the ground, to the swatch of bloodstained cloth in its long beak. Leathery wings caught the air, flapping wildly then coasting.
    Farther, over the horizon, even farther than the creature could see, stood a black fortress. Spires clawed the sky like frozen, demonic hands. No lights shone from the arrow slits that were evenly spaced along the walls, serving as windows. Massive, black-clad Morgul guards trooped across a causeway atop walls of black stone and iron. Turrets pierced the clouds above forbidding steel gates. The long-dead sun never penetrated the gloomy blanket of clouds.
    Thus was the messenger’s destination.
    Its powerful wings stroked, up and down, bringing it through one of the arrow slits and into a long, dimly-lit hall. Its wings backpedaled, and it alighted on the high back of an onyx throne. It dropped the swatch and screeched. The piece of fabric floated into an open palm, which snapped closed like an animal trap.
    A hard, female voice broke the silence.
    “Very good, Argonath,” the figure the hand belonged to said. “they have been eliminated then.”
    The creature, Argonath, shrieked its reply.
    “Good. Operations will continue, as planned.” As the figure shifted, a shaft of moonlight pierced through an opening in the clouds, illuminating the person’s face. Wispy black hair drifted down her back and shoulders, interlaced with shards of unmelting ice. Robes of deep greens, blues, and purples rippled like mercury as she turned her crowned head to the shadows alongside her throne. A heavy black stone hung on a silver chain around her neck, pulsing darker and lighter like a silent heartbeat.
    “Soren,” the woman called. A darkly-clad man with snowy hair emerged from the darkness like a shadow come to life.
    “Yes, my lady?”
    The woman’s eyes glinted darkly.
    “We have work to do.”
    “Yes, my lady.” He signaled to two roughly-clad guards at the opposite end of the hall. They grunted in response, then threw their weight against the double doors. The marble doors ground open, revealing two more guards, this time human. One carried rolled-up maps and field reports. The other held a general’s plumed helm under one arm and a leather-bound book in the other. The general stalked down the hall, his assistant trailing behind, his leather boots clicking smartly on the black marble floor.
    As he approached the end of the hall, he knelt on one knee before the stone dais, bowed his head, and tapped his right fist over his heart.
    “You summoned me, Highness?”
    “Ah, general,” the woman on the throne began, as if noticing him for the first time. “what do you make of this?” She presented the bloody piece of cloth, and the general plucked it gingerly from her hand.
    He examined the swatch, buying time to choose his words carefully before speaking them. “It looks as if the rebel troops have fallen to your army on the Plains, Lady Ajhin.” He looked up at her in the dim light, and, seeing as her face held no emotion, went on. “Be there a problem, Lady?”
    “Yes, there is a problem, General Bard.” Her eyes turned suddenly stony, as did her voice. “I need prisoners for interrogation, which tends to work best when their mouths work, and thus their heads must be connected to their bodies!”
    The general twitched imperceptibly, but refused to give her the chance to reveal his obvious fear. “Ah yes, a minor setback, one which is easily corrected.” He cleared his throat, then motioned to his assistant. “Lieutenant.”
    The young man stepped forward nervously; he could feel his palms sweating. As of yet, his first encounter with the empress was not going very well.
    “Y… yes, sir. Our source has informed us, your majesty, of a possible attack on the barracks in Hatholas. We have sent reinforcements, in case of an attack, and enlisted workers to shore up the barracks and the fortress nearby.”
    The empress sat back in her chair, stroking the Argonath’s sleek black feathers.
    “That doesn’t make sense,” she frowned. “Why attack the barracks when you could just as easily get to the fortress? General Andin is not stupid; why make such a bold move?”
    “The rebels are short on just about everything. Food, supplies, troops. They could just be raiding the barracks, not actually attacking them.”
    “But the food is stored in the fortress, is it not? They might also just be trying to weaken my defenses, so they can get to the fortress without being attacked from behind by reinforcements from the barracks.”
    “After all, Lady Empress, the barracks are well-supplied. After their defeat on the Plains,” the General smiled smugly, “the rebels are out a few thousand foot soldiers. And Morguls are out and about this time of year, more than ever before, destroying villages and encampments, and killing soldiers and men who might have enlisted in their pathetic army.” The general puffed out his chest. “Your Highness has no need to fear; the rebels are like a beetle she can crush beneath her heel.” He smiled again, thinking of how he had crushed the feeble resistance in his latest victory.
    After an unsettling pause and a few fierce glances from Empress Ajhin, she spoke. “Send men if you feel it is necessary, General, but alert men at other vulnerable posts of a possible attack. It could happen anywhere. They could just be trying to draw the forces away so they can attack when and where we are weakest. Dismissed, men.”
    General Bard and his Lieutenant strode back down the hall.
    “And General,” The general turned. “this is your last warning. Fail me again, and… well, use your imagination.”
    The two men saluted and exited the hall.
    “Humph! ‘Send men if you think it necessary, General, but don’t fail me again!’ Well, of coure it’s necessary! I’m not a complete idiot you know! The rebellion will be crushed within the month!” Bard spat after the door was safely shut behind them.
    The lieutenant was too distraught to speak. All he could say was, “Yes, sir,” though he was really thinking, I hope you know what you’re doing. He stalked down the hall and out of the castle, into the icy winter night, and back to his bunk to curl up under the covers and dream of the lovely young wife he left back home.

    ~

    “General!” The sergeant snapped to attention, saluting his superior.
    “At ease, Sergeant.”
    “Sir, there’s a man outside wishing to speak with you. He claims to be an infantry soldier, but has no identification, save for a dagger that appears to belong to General Anthros.”
    The general nodded. “Send him into my chambers immediately.” He then thrust open the doors to his meeting chambers, strode inside, and took his usual place at the small table that held his maps and compass. Suddenly, a tall man with long white-blond hair strode regally into the room.
    “Handin! My old friend!” the general exclaimed.
    “General Andur, my friend.” Handin’s hair shifted as he gripped his friend’s forearm, revealing pointed ears. “I’m afraid I have grave news.”
    Before he could finish, another man, ragged, and wearing a tattered messenger’s uniform, burst into the room. His sheath was scratched, and the once shiny leather was now scuffed and dull, as if worn in heavy combat. He carried no sword, only a broken hilt, and walked with a pronounced limp in his right leg. The quiver opposite his empty scabbard held a few broken shafts of elven make, but had no bow about his person.
    “General.” The soldier attempted to snap to attention, but Andur waved it off, ordering a servant to bring food and water for the man instead.
    “We are… defeated on the Plains… too many… crushed…” The man collapsed, a servant catching him just in time. His feverish eyes flicked about beneath their lids.
    “Carry him to the medical ward. See to it that this man has the best care we can provide. Dismissed.” The servant bowed awkwardly with his load, then carted the unconscious man away with the help of another servant.
    General Andur shook his head, sinking into a chair. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, and with the other clawed the wood of the armrest. “Almost two thousand good soldiers, good men, slain in battle, against almost three times as many troops! How could I have deployed such a number?” The general straightened. “What ill tidings do you carry, my old friend?” he asked wearily.
    Handin spoke softly. “More villages were attacked today. Several hundred casualties. Even more injured. I have sent scouts and trackers to search for the rogue Morgul bands. When they have learned a band’s location, I will send soldiers and some Paladin to go after them.”
    “Very good, General. Now, have the Rangers reported to you of their excursions in the west?”
    “Little word as of yet. More and more Rangers disappear every day. We’ve lost almost two dozen in the west, and several more in the north. Several have been reported dead, their throats slashed. Oh, and Leanback is missing. Again.”
    Andur sighed. Captain Leanback had disappeared twice already, only to be found a few days later, perfectly unharmed. His allegiances had been dicey as of late. He had taken advantage of his superiors, and had only kept his position because of his skills in tracking, hunting, and combat, which surpassed any Paladin or superior officer. He avoided questions about his shadowy past.
    “He’s a good soldier; ha can get out of it again. But until he does, we had better keep it discreet. I don’t want anyone to get any ideas that they can take over his position.” Andur stood, leaning over the table. “What of Ajhin’s troops, in the east? Any word on their movement?” He pointed to a section of the map, one that was covered in forest and dotted with small lakes. The old parchment crinkled under the general’s finger.
    “None. Our scouts haven’t reported back yet. There has been little word in the east and north lately. Actually,” Handin frowned, “there’s been little word anywhere lately.” Handin frowned again, leaning over the map.
    “Send out runners to the camps of these scouts. We’ll find out what’s going on.” Andin murmured, “One way or another.”