The Dark Mage of Rhudaur by AliceNWonder000137  

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Skirmish

The siege lines are drawn and Ethacali's plan advances.  Ethacali learns more about the Blood-Wights and is awed by how ancient and powerful they are and he tries to unbalance Skrykalian.  She continues to work on the mage, weakening his mind while powering his body.  The Blood-Wights invade the dreams of Marendil and Eanfled again, but the outcome is not what was expected.  Warning for a scene of intimacy.

The Tirthon, Cerveth 17th, 1407

          

It was already midafternoon as Ethacali stood at the edge of the tree line, surveying the field to the north.  He was surrounded by his orc shamans with the troll, Oologg, by his side.  The two Blood-Wights waited a distance behind him as he found them distracting to his ability to focus on the coming battle.

The mage snorted out his frustration.  The construction of the siege engines was already a day behind schedule.  One onager, a small catapult, had been completed and other engines, including the siege tower, were having difficulties.  “There’s no lack of wood,” he said to Urfase, shaking his head as he gestured to the forests around them.  “I don’t understand the problem.”  The goblin engineers from Gundabad were unreliable and constantly fought amongst themselves, squabbling over everything despite their skill in construction.

He really missed the rolling plains of Logath and the warm breeze that blew over the land.  He suddenly thought about how his mind went less and less to his family.  What was going on?  They had always been his rock, and he would return to them, triumphant.  Having done the bidding of the Necromancer, he would finally retire and spend the rest of his days in peace.  It was all that he wanted.

He pointed to a section of the wooden palisade to the east of the gate.  “You see that there?  Have the onager focus their fire on that area.  We will bring it down and then the orc company will penetrate at that point. The Macha Mur will be in reserve, ready to follow or come in through the open gate.”

Urfase was down on all fours like a beast and licked the back of his hand.  “Of course, great mage.  I will tell Yarnaghk to move his goblins forward.  Your will shall be done, great mage.”

The mage nodded and then pointed to Grashur.  “Once the orcs have secured the breach, I want them to get the gate open for Lumban. We then sweep the Vulseggi back to the tower and capture the barns and the pond.  I want to cut them off from their food and water.  We’ve already wasted three days, and they have been moving grain to the Tirthon.”  He hoped that the infected grain would begin to take effect soon.

Grashur tilted his head and then departed, an orc of few words.  The third shaman, Athrug, fidgeted before he spoke.  “And what do you need of me, mage?  Or am I just to sit around with my thumb up your ass like Urfase?”

Ethacali turned sharply on the orc shaman.  “Mind your tongue, Athrug.  We don’t have to like each other but you do have to obey me else the Witch-King will hear of it.”  His trust in the orc was falling by the day.  “You will remain here in reserve to help exploit any openings that I see.”

Athrug snorted, but bowed his head as the ranger captain, Hirgrim, approached.  “Ethacali, we found an escape tunnel beneath Ynarri’s Drift. That’s how the crippled bastard and his pet pig escaped along with his servants.  We scouted it and the Vulseggi collapsed the tunnel further up, but I would suggest getting some of the goblin engineers on it.  We could dig through in a couple of weeks.”

The sheer number of things to attend to was becoming overwhelming.  Ethacali was a powerful mage, but he always wanted to prove himself as a battlefield commander before he retired.  While he had prepared exhaustively, he was unused to the rapidly changing environment and the inevitable delays that came from logistics. He had never before experienced the reality and fog of war.  “I don’t know if I can spare any engineers before we complete the siege engines, but I will certainly keep it in mind and act upon it once we do.”

Hirgrim nodded. “Understandable.  Do keep it in mind if this siege goes on.  We brought down their messenger birds, but it’s only a matter of time before word gets to Vulfredda of our action here and she sends her cavalry.  We best be done before that happens.”  With that, he made a curt bow and departed.

He watched as Yarnaghk and his goblins moved the onager forward, foot by foot, protected by 20 orc troops with 40 Macha Mur on their flank.  He outnumbered the defenders by about 4 to 1, but he still had to worry about the Vulseggi from Thuin Boid.  He had time, but not an unlimited amount.  He had to plan for every contingency and that bothered him. Despite his misgivings, he needed the Blood-Wights to ensure a quick victory.  He turned and motioned to them just as the first stone was thrown from the onager.  It struck the wooden walls of the palisade and deflected off of it, splintering some of the wood.

Skrykalian approached him, brushing her hand across Athrug’s chest.  The orc inhaled deeply, watching her bare body move past him.  She hung onto the mage’s shoulder and leaned her head on his.  “Yes dear. You’ll want us to dream tonight with the people in the tower, yes?”

Ethacali immediately knew that this was a bad idea, but he had no choice.  “Yes, exactly that,” he tried to say authoritatively, but his voice cracked. He felt her move behind him and massage his shoulders.  It felt wonderful, given all of the stress that he felt.

“You will have to feed us first, you know.  Our power is not unlimited.  We wouldn’t mind an orc or two.  We should make up a sign that I have seen in your human cities full of poverty…what did it say?  Ah yes, will work for food.”  Ethacali had to admit that she had a wry sense of humor for a monster.  If she were not a blood-sucking vampire, they might even enjoy jokes over a cup of coffee and some pastries.  Surely a couple of orcs from his company wouldn’t be missed to keep them fed if they couldn’t secure prisoners.

He saw one large stone shatter a wooden post in the palisade.  It was just a matter of time before that part of the wall was breached. He could see Vulseggi soldiers moving about to prepare for that, but there was nothing that they could do short of a charge to stop it and he had over 70 troops in the way.  One tall knight in gray plate armor directed the defense. Was that the Lord Commander?  He couldn’t tell from this distance. Skrykalian had weakened that man’s mind for a while now and she would do so again tonight.

“So, this attack is only a probe, I see,” Skrykalian said as she burrowed into his mind.  “If it does what you want, great, but you’re not counting on it to take the tower.  Hmmm. Interesting.”  She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and he winced for a moment, but then felt amazing.  “Oh, you have a knot right there.  I’m going to work on it,” she added as she pushed her elbow into his back while pulling with her other hand.  “I can’t wait for darkness so I can get to work.”  It was originally disconcerting as to how she could pull his thoughts and memories out, but he was becoming used to it.

A gap was now open in the wooden wall and orcs charged into the opening, brandishing scimitars and crude pole weapons as the onager switched to another part of the palisade. The orcs were the fodder for his force. Several Vulseggi foot soldiers met them at the breach, lowering spears in a wall.  A vicious melee developed as one orc was speared and other orcs ran for the gate.  An archer popped up over the wall and launched an arrow into another orc and several attackers swarmed a spearman, scimitars rising and falling as blood flew. “That’s it,” the mage said.  “Get that gate open.”

He could see the knight pointing at the gate and a few of the footmen peeled off from the formation and tried to intercept them.  A second fight erupted near the gate as the orcs pushed the wooden bar away.  Two orcs slashed a guard, and he fell backwards, wounded, but a spearman drove the tip of his weapon through one of those orc’s neck.  The gate was now open.  On cue, Lumban led his 40 Macha Mur forward at a run.  With any luck, this would be over today.  Now heavily outnumbered, the Vulseggi retreated in good order, spears outward as the wounded guard scrambled back to the tower.  An orc fired an arrow into the face of a spearman, and he fell over, holding his eye.  His comrades tried to drag him behind the line, but he was dead.

Ethacali felt that it was going well until they could see horsemen forming up.  About a dozen Northron cavalry were assembling in a line, lances held high.  A squire handed the knight his lance and the cavalry began to move ahead.  The mage felt a lump in his throat.  He felt a tug on his shoulder.

“We could stop this for you,” Skrykalian said.  “You just have to say the word.”

He was conflicted but shook his head.  “No, let it play out.  I don’t want to reveal you two just yet.  I want you to keep undermining their leadership.”

“Oh, how boring,” she cooed, working on his neck now.  “When will you trust us?”

“When this is done, and the north is ours.”  As he feared, the cavalry smashed into the horde of orcs and the Macha Mur at the gate. Lances tore through orc and tribesmen’s bodies and horses smashed into their now panicked ranks.  The knight drew a slender longsword that glowed blue, and he slashed down at an orc, splitting its head.  One horseman was pulled down and gutted, but the attack had failed.  Orcs and tribesmen began streaming back, some throwing down weapons as they ran, some limping with injuries.

“Hmmm,” Skrykalian murmured. “It might take a little longer than you think.  Are you sure you have enough time left as a human?”

He did not want to appear weak to her and somehow, her opinions began to matter to him.  “It’s all part of the plan.  We weakened them some and my secret attacks will begin to manifest soon.  We must be patient in these things.”

She pointed to the gap in the palisade that was now being barricaded with wood and rocks.  “I get the feeling that they’ve done this before. And, how adorable of you to tell me that I need to be patient.  I mean, I’ve only been around about Fifty-Two-Hundred years…give or take.”

He had his suspicions as to how old she was, but hearing it was staggering.  It was an age unimaginable to a human.  He was about to answer when the some of the wounded began to stream into the camp while the orcs and men that were still hale reformed a line.  It was not a complete disaster.  Six orcs were dead and seven Macha Mur with a few injured that were led back to an infirmary. Urfase and Grashur had returned as well. “We’ve taken some losses, great mage,” Urfase said, licking his hand.  Skrykalian mimicked this behavior, taking long strokes with her tongue in a clearly sensual way.

Ethacali tried to look away, but he found it very difficult until he heard Grashur.  “Your orders, mage?”

He shook his head and cleared his throat.  “Umm, have the troops continue to dig trenches and tell Yarnaghk to hurry up with the siege equipment.  We need that soon.  I’ll be in my tent reading the tome.”  He walked away, Oologg behind him.  In another moment, the Blood-Wight was beside him, skipping like a schoolgirl in Logath. He glanced back to see Athrug’s eyes upon her the whole time with a look on his face that he knew would be trouble. “I don’t need your assistance at this time, Skrykalian…or should I say, Alquanessë,” he said, trying to throw her off guard.  He wanted her to be the one who was uncomfortable for once.

She clapped and bounced on her toes.  “Well done, Ethacali,” she said excitedly.  “You’ve found our secret.  What else do you know?”  She seemed entirely unfazed by the probe.  Disappointed, he continued walking and she resumed skipping along.

“You were a lady of the High Elves, among the nobility.  Thuringwethil turned you and your siblings.  You became devoted followers of Morgoth and then Sauron and advanced the cause of darkness.”  He kept hoping to see some level of discomfort in her.

She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes and raised one side of her mouth.  “Umm, mostly true, but not entirely.  You kind of had to be there.  But then again, you humans pass in the blink of an eye to me.  And a lot of history gets lost or muddled after time so I can’t fault you for your ignorance.”  They reached the entrance to the tent and the Blood-Wight stared at Oologg. “Go wait over there,” she said with a tilt of her head, and the troll moved away.  “He’s very obedient.  You taught him well.”

The mage was perturbed that his bodyguard followed her orders, but he knew that the troll was deathly afraid of her.  She held open the tent flap for him and he walked in, then turning to stop her from following.  He had to gain control.  “Thank you, Skrykalian, but you may return to your brother to await the darkness.  Then, continue to make them dream.”

She put her hands on her hips. “What if I refuse?”  The question shocked him.  She had been evasive and manipulative, but never outright disobedient.

He held up his hand and his face became stern, eyes narrowed and jaw taut.  “Then I invoke the rune of binding.  You cannot escape and you are bound by the Necromancer to obey me.”  He pointed his finger at her and then outside the tent.  “Now, do as I say and go.”  She took his hand gently and began sucking on his finger.  His heart skipped a beat.

“I know you look at me,” she said seductively, her voice soft and melodic.  “And you’re jealous of Marendil and Athrug.  We wouldn’t be hurting anyone, and you’ll show that orc who’s boss…who I belong to.”  She guided him inside of the tent and onto a chair.  She sat in his lap, and he couldn’t look away.

“Yes…I need to show him who’s boss.  Yes.” It felt as if he were on a narcotic, his head light and his tongue thick.  She lowered her head, and he could smell her hair, a sweet scent of rose and honeysuckle. “No, no, please Skrykalian…my wife…Ethanya…no, stop.”

She hiked one leg up and he could see all of her.  “Shall I stop?”

He began to tremble. “I…I…please.”  The intoxication was like a tidal wave.  Her cheek brushed his and he could smell her skin and feel that she was a little chill.  “You…you’re cold.”

“I haven’t fed in three days. It would be nice if you treated a lady to dinner.”  She was breathing quickly now, her voice husky.  She guided his hand lower.  She inhaled sharply and let out a soft moan.

He could no longer stand it. He lifted her up with a grunt and set her down on the bed.  She smiled up at him, a sweet, innocent smile, which he knew was anything but.  Part of the tome flashed through his mind as he removed his robes.  The men of the region called her a succubus, a corrupter of men and a demon of the night. But he was beyond caring.  He felt like he was 18 again, full of energy and vigor. In his mind, he now saw things no living human had seen: the wonders Beleriand, the halls of Nargothrond, the War of Wrath, the marble walls of Ost-in-Edhil and the smiths of the Mírdaithrond.  He felt enveloped by her memories as if he would drown but he wanted to drown.

Afterwards, she lay in his arms, intertwined as he inhaled the musky scent of her sweaty skin and the sweet aroma of her hair.  She breathed quietly as if asleep.  Did Blood-Wights truly sleep?  Right now, to him, she was a beautiful woman, resting peacefully.  He felt a pang of guilt, but was it so bad?  Ethanya would never know, and this would just be a one-time thing.  He could tell that it was night now and crickets were chirping outside as the air grew colder.  He knew that the Witch-King’s sorcery would take full effect soon.  He gently extricated his arm from beneath her neck and reached over to pick up the tome.  She rolled over with a sigh and he saw that her eyes were open, silver with slits like a cat’s.  He gasped in surprise at first but realized that she was dreaming.  Soon, she would be in Marendil’s head, driving him to madness.

Under the light of a lantern, he delved further into the tome.  It spoke more about the wars of Beleriand.  It was both a wonderous and terrifying time with vampires, werewolves, balrogs and dragons, things he could scarcely imagine.  One by one, the ancient elven kingdoms fell and yet they fought on.  He had to admit admiration for their struggle, ill fated though it was.  The tome mentioned something about Alquanessë being an extraordinary singer and dancer, gifted even among the High Elves.  It was something that he truly desired to see.  But he wanted more about Blogath.  He had a bad feeling that he would need her before this was over.  Her birth name was Sercë, a fierce leader under the Prince of the Noldor, Fingon, and all of the siblings followed her command.  If he could just get her on his side, his problems with Skrykalian would be solved.

The woman next to him stirred and yawned, something that he did not expect from a Blood-Wight.  Her eyes focused and she smiled.  “There, Naranantur and I did as you commanded.  Now, Ethacali…now that we are bonded and we have carried out your orders to the letter, I would ask a favor of you.”

He was cautious, not knowing what she would ask.  “I’ll consider it.”

“When this is done, I would ask for freedom for my brother and I.”

He thought for a moment. It would be a bad idea, and the Witch-King specifically instructed him to turn them into weapons against the Dúnedain kingdoms.  Even curing them would defy his orders.  As intoxicated as he was by her, he could not agree.  “The Lord of Angmar has ordered me to make you into weapons for the wars to come.  I’m sorry, but I cannot.”

Her smile faded and her eyes flashed for a moment before her face softened again.  “No matter.  Freedom was just a dream.”  She pursed her lips and then smiled, but he could tell that it was fake.  She put her finger to her ear.  “The results of my dream should be apparent just…about…now.”

The pounding of hooves could be heard along with the screams of orcs and goblins.  As Ethacali leapt out of bed and pulled on his pants, he could hear a man yelling, “Burn the onager!  Burn it!  That’s it! Fall back!  Fall back!”

The mage ran out, shirtless and could see the onager in flames with several dead orcs and goblins lying next to it, some with lances driven clean through.  He could just make out the Vulseggi cavalry reaching the palisade gate.  He kicked the ground in anger and grunted.  Looking back at his tent, he saw Skrykalian shrug.  “Sorry, the dream had a different effect tonight.  Try again tomorrow?” she said in an almost singsong voice.

He moved her aside and walked into his tent.  She tried to follow, but this time, he found the strength to stop her.  “I’m not in the mood.  We will speak more tomorrow.”  Just then, the snow began to fall in thick sheets.  He sat down again and put his face in his hands and began to shake.  He tried to picture his wife’s face, but the image was blurry and distorted in his mind.  He pulled out the cameo of Ethanya and willed himself to look at it.  Tears began to roll down his cheek.  “What have I done?  What have I done?”

He wiped his nose and put the cameo away.  Beyond his personal agony, there was the matter of the destroyed onager, and the casualties that his force were taking.  If he were to fail here, any personal angst would pale in comparison to the what he would face in Carn Dȗm.  Getting home in one piece might not even be an option.  He took long, steady breaths to regain control, just like when he was learning to be a mage.  Control was paramount when casting powerful spells and focus had always been his forté. His heartbeat returned to normal, and he exhaled a sigh of relief.  It was just a one-time thing, he told himself again, a foolish mistake in a weak moment and it was something that he would take to his grave.  Right now though, he needed rest and would focus on the siege again tomorrow.   

Chapter End Notes

I wanted to portray the relationship between Ethacali and Skrykalian as a cat and mouse and have the mage know that he is playing with things beyond his control or imagining.  I always wanted to write a succubus and show the raw, seductive power of one over her victims, but Skrykalian is also a victim.  I did a fair amount of research about siege warfare to make it more realistic.

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