Chapter Ten

 

London

 

A livid sky on London

And like the iron steeds that rear

A shock of engines halted

And I knew the end was near:

And something said that far away, over the hills and far away

There came a crawling thunder and the end of all things here.

For London Bridge is broken down, broken down, broken down,

As digging lets the daylight on the sunken streets of yore,

The lightning looked on London town, the broken bridge of London town.

The ending of a broken road where men shall go no more.

 

Excerpt from ‘The Old Song’ by GK Chesterton

 

*************

 

The bridge that connected London to Southwark had existed in one fashion or another for more than two thousand years. It had begun its life, as a symbol of Roman conquest, for no other empire was known more for the roads and bridges built during its occupation.  The exact date of its birth was claimed to be in 46 AD since passage was needed across the Thames and the deepwater access to the sea made it ideal for the purpose. It was a construct of timber and nails that would stand in its place for a thousand years, before being burnt down by King Ethelred the Unready to protect London from the Danes.

 

By the time Peter de Colechurch had began construction of London Bridge in 1136, it had been rebuilt twice since its destruction by the unfortunately named Ethelred. In 1209, the bridge was rebuilt with stone instead of wood and stood for the next 600 years, although its history was laced with several deadly fires that caused thousands of deaths. In the 1800’s, city planners on the cusp of the industrial revolution opted to rebuild the bridge and this time a more modern thoroughfare was created to meet the needs of a booming Victorian city. In 1968, the bridge had been disassembled and taken across the Atlantic and a newer version stood in its stead. 

 

By the end of this day, the city planners would need to consider its next guise.

 

*************

 

If there had been anyone to catalogue the entomology of the creatures known as the Watchers, they would have learned much to their surprise that these water dwelling creations of Melkor were amphibious, not completely aquatic as previously believed. Water gave the large, awkwardly shaped beasts the fluidity of movement and speed needed to snare its prey. However, watchers were by no means, trapped to it or helpless in a terrestrial environment.

 

Many of them still remained in Arda, hidden in secret places that would give the race of men much anxiety if it were known. Most remained in the depths of the world, in deep caves or on the ocean floor were the eating was good and anonymous. Many longed for the flesh of man but to do so would be to expose themselves and the race if nothing else was tenacious when under the threat from a predator. Others remained asleep for that too, was a characteristic of the breed that largely unknown.

 

Whatever their course through the ages all that had changed with the call to arms by the former lieutenant of their creator who reeked with his master’s power and provided them with a reason to awake. From the depths they began emerging, the call to chaos bringing them from the bottom of the sea, from watery caves beneath riverbeds and lochs.

 

They were ordered to gather at the mouth of the river known as the ‘Dark One’, the location selected by their new lord for its irony. In language of the ancient Celts, the translation of Dark One was the Tame or in modern speech, the Thames.

 

On the morning that Sauron, Lord of Mordor, now David Saeran arrived in London, the residents of that city would have awakened to a low rumble, not unlike the sound of a tuba reaching crescendo. Another soon followed the first blast of this unseen instrument and although the sounds produced did not mesh together like any composition of music, there was a certain beauty in the unity of the unusual noise.

 

It was perhaps the first time since their creation that the Watchers had assembled like this and in the meeting; the ancient beasts began to sing the songs of their youth, a sound that resembled the earth shuddering. Like other leviathans at play, the dark beast swam around the pylons of London Bridge, forgetting for a moment the purpose of their summons to Angel Isle. It was a brief respite.

 

The Tower Bridge, owing to its bascule design, did not notice the arrival of the Watchers owing to the elevation of its double leaf span to allow the passage of ships beneath it. The creatures swam easily up the Thames and found a more solid object around which they could vent eons of aggression.

 

*************

 

She hated fish.

 

She hated it with a bloody passion.


Day in and day out, that’s all she could smell.  Salmon, trout, hake, bream and cod. Megan swore than no amount of showering could remove the stench. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like fish to start of with but working every day at Billingsgate Fish Market had made her wholly sick of anything that lived under the sea. Trapped in her little Honda with the usual gridlock traffic on London Bridge, Megan looked across the river to the building where the markets were situated with a growing amount of disdain. She knew this level of indifference required her to start thinking about a new job but the money was good and the hours were convenient.

 

The only trouble was the fish.

 

London, like the rest of England was in a state of panic.

 

Although the authorities were still claiming fervently that everything was alright and that the strange reports about the strife in Cornwall, Dorset, Devon, parts of Somerset, Hampshire and Surrey were just rumour, the public was finding it harder and harder to believe it. The communication black out that prevented any sort of television; radio or even Internet connection to these counties did not cease in the days that followed the first incident in Cornwell. The authorities were claiming a terrorist attack, that some sort of mass hallucinogen had been deployed over those areas of England.

 

Refugees pouring out of those areas arrived with implausible stories of dragons and giant spiders were immediately ordered to bed with advice to drink milk to break down the chemical in their systems, by those who received them. The government, unable to reduce public hysteria by any other means had concocted the story of a mass hallucinogenic gas and were had produced measures to ensure the effects wore off in good time. In the meantime the communication silence continued and the roads to southwest were blockaded by men with guns and a great deal of conviction.

 

Thus the roads were jammed with people who had heard nothing from relatives and friends in those counties, as they travelled to the scene of the blockade and waited on the other side of the barriers for the appearance of loved ones.  The media continued to scream cover-up as the press were similarly barred from crossing the blockade to report the news from those affected areas.  There were disturbing reports of some journalists that had been shot and across the planet, the world watched with held breath at what was taking place in Wessex.

 

Setting down the bottle of water she had just taken a sip from onto the dashboard, Megan looked ahead and saw the shimmer of heated air, thanks to the exhaust pipe of the mini in front of her. Once again London Bridge was filled with people either traveling to the barricade or coming from it. If she were smart, it would be a motorcycle she was driving not a car whose purpose in life was to make her pay ludicrous amounts of money in petrol and not be able to weave through traffic effortless like God intended. 

 

Suddenly she noted the water within the bottle resting on the dash shimmer from the rumble of the car. Even though the engine was idling, Megan hadn’t thought the drone from the engine was all that noticeable. Just to be safe, she reached for the bottle and tightened the cap to ensure that nothing escaped if it should vibrate off the dashboard. That’s the last thing she needed this morning on top of everything else.

 

She hadn’t given the whole thing a second thought when suddenly the sound like a thousand great horns boomed through the air with such force; she dropped the bottle on her lap and let out a cry that was drowned in the blare of the noise.  It did not stop and seem to increase until her windscreen shattered and as she raised her hand to shield her eyes, saw other cars experiencing the same troubles. Thanking her brother for convincing her to pay for the shatterproof glass. The windscreen had managed to hold its shape despite shattering. Breaks like the webbing of a spider spread across the glass.

 

Reaching for the door handle, she staggered out of the car and saw other cars experiencing the same phenomena. Outside, the sound seemed louder and Megan covered her ears trying to block out the powerful blare. People were clambering out their vehicles, trying to escape the explosion of sound and glass. Some were shouting but their cries could not be heard over the noise. It seemed to be all around them and in a confused state; she wondered what she was causing it.

 

Something slammed hard against the wall and though Megan couldn’t see it, she certainly felt it. Like a ship ramming into the concrete. The vibration travelled past the soles of her feet into her bones. The impact was hard enough to make her stumble and she saw her char actually shudder.

 

“DID YOU FEEL THAT?” She shouted to a man near her. He was bleeding over the left eye while trying to shake glass off his clothes.

 

He saw her mouth move and try to answer when the impact was felt again, this time stronger and she was not alone in feeling it. Others had begun to look around them, trying to discern from when this shudder had come. Was the bridge going to collapse? Megan thought frantically for a moment, a flurry of panicked thoughts racing through her mind as she tried to decide how far it was to the other end. The other motorists who were on the bridge with her had similar thoughts and while some clung to the disbelief that this would turn out well, others did not.

 

Reaching through the open door of her car, Megan grabbed her handbag and decided that she wasn’t’ staying. Slinging the leather strap around the shoulder, her footing was awkward because of the continued shuddering of the bridgework. Convinced now that the terrorists had bombed the bridge like they had to the Tube not long ago, she had come to the decision that the safest place was on solid ground.  Joining the exodus of motorists, she began running.

 

Suddenly the sound stopped.

 

The stillness that followed was even more chilling than the trembling bridge. People paused and looked at each other, with only a small rise of chattering breaking the quiet as questions were asked as to what was happening. Megan thought it was like the calm before a storm and began to move once again, absolute in her certainty that the silence was not a good sign. She had not made more than a few steps when a scream tore through the air.

 

It was a woman with flailing arms, shrieking pure unadulterated terror as she was hoisted into the air by what could only be described as tentacle belonging to some family of octopi.  The size of it was beyond any she had seen before, almost a foot in width, coiling around its victim with almost effortless strength. Her shriek followed her across the air as she was borne away to the side of the bridge.

 

Her cry of terror was but the first.

 

Soon, there were other screams not just women but men, children and following that hitch pitched scream of fear, there followed an even more terrifying sound; the shriek of agony that followed the stomach turning crunch of flesh and bone. Near paralyzed with terror, Megan remained rooted to the spot, watching people being picked off like flies by tentacles belong to creatures that were crawling up the side of the bridge.

 

A man had dove into his car but could not escape, the tentacle wrapped around the vehicle and lifted him up in the air. She saw him pounding against the glass, his eyes wide with horror before disappearing beyond the railing. Something inside her snapped at that moment and she began running. The screams across the bridge was almost deafening now as multiple tentacles sprouted like the heads of a hydra, spiriting away victims over the railing and into the water. 

 

She was sobbing in fear, terrified that she would not make it to the end. The pandemonium across the bridge was almost complete in its virulence. People were screaming, running, trying to hide in cars. Some had returned to their vehicles, trying to drive off the bridge, crossing the barrier between driveway and pedestrian walk, hoping to clear the gridlock. Their success in reaching it only brought them closer to the edge of the bridge, where whatever menace was attacking them, had a better view of its prey. Megan gasped as she saw whole cars being lifted off the side railings, splashing into the drink a moment later.

 

A chance glimpse at the direction of the Tower Bridge made Megan freeze in her tracks. For the first time, she was afforded a view of what was attacking them, as it appeared the Tower was under the same assault.  Bodies as black as ebony, with shapes that did not at appear like octopus, the creatures were certainly much, much larger that even the biggest that species had been able to produce. She saw tentacles that moved like whips, dragging screaming victims off that bridge the way they were doing t o this one. She saw them disappearing into something wide and gapping like a mouth.

 

As she continued her desperate flight for freedom, she as man grasping at the bars of the railing, desperate to remain on the bridge as the tentacle around his waist coiled around him, tightening its grip and continuing to tug and tug at him. Megan wanted to stop but she knew she would never be able to free him and may end up in the same perilous state. As their eyes met, she saw his anguish at the dying to come and knowing that she could not help him. She saw his sobs of horror and fear end with a final powerful yank by the beast.

 

 His fingers slackened around the railing.

 

He did not have time to scream and for that she was grateful because his eyes would follow her to the grave, however, soon that moment might soon come upon her. She looked away from him and saw the tentacles waving about in the air, waving his lower body like a prize, sending blood and viscera everywhere. Her own screams were preempted by the complete loss of control of her stomach.

 

Bent over, Megan vomited all over the road. However, she barely had time to wipe her mouth when she was forced into moving, struck cold by the thought if she did not move she would end up the same way. Ignoring everything, ignoring her fear, the crowds trying to make the same desperate bid for freedom, the cars in her way, the grisly remains of those who like the man who had tried to resist and been torn apart, Megan kept her eye on the other side of the bridge.

 

So fixed was her focus, so determined was she to escape the reach of the monsters that were slaughtering people around her so indiscriminately, she did not hear the beating of great wings overhead. Only when she felt the shadow falling upon her did she lift her blue eye so the sky and thought for an absurd moment, she was staring at the great wings of an angel. However, this illusion was quickly shattered when another loud bellow filled the air that made her think of the T-Rex in that Spielberg film.

 

The blast of fire that swept over Megan Stanley, incinerating her where she stood, came so swiftly that she neither had time to scream nor register the pain of flesh being seared off her bones. The fire rolled across her, continuing forward like a juggernaut, making the tar beneath to bubble and cooking alive anyone who had taken refuge within their vehicles. The tentacled beasts moved further down the Thames, towards Southwark Bridge, seeking more ripe fields to plunder.


As their water bound brothers continued onward, the dragons, like
Ethelred the Unready, set London Bridge a blaze yet again.

 

*************

 

“Come on,” Lori cursed as she wiped the sweat from her brow.  “How hard can this fucking be?”

 

She wanted to kick and scream, leaving the wretched thing alone but she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. Lieutenant Lori Hill had to try again or else she was going to die here.

 

Taking a deep breath, she tried again, feeling more and more frustrated at her lack of success. She knew what she was doing, or rather had a rough idea of what she wanted to do but the execution needed finesse and after one day in Exeter, she was all out of it. Electronics had never been a problem for her in the past however, there was a vast difference understanding the avionics of a jet plane and trying to start a car without the benefit of keys.

 

Four wires, she told herself. All she had to do was get these four wires in the ignition chamber to connect properly and she could get the hell out of here.

 

It had been almost a full day since she had ejected from her plane over the skies of the Exeter. That was nearly 24 hours were no rescue had come and she had seen no signs of the other pilots who had taken off with her. Landing in a field outside of town, the wise course would have been to stay there in retrospect, however, she had continued towards it in the belief that she needed to contact her base, tell her what had ambushed them. For the sake of the men and women who had died and the ones who would without any accurate intelligence, she had no choice.

 

Of course, upon arriving at Exeter, Lori had found herself faced with a town that looked like the aftermath of a war zone. Lori, who had spent some time in Afghanistan, discovered this once quaint English town had been gutted the way that country had been ravaged during the war. She saw bodies, torn apart lying in the streets; some didn’t even escape their cars. There was fire burning throughout half the buildings in town and nothing done to stop it. 

 

It appalled her to no end that the stench of flesh burning was something she had become accustomed to in the last 24 hours.

 

Making the attempt to manipulate the collection of wires into place, Lori wiped her brow again in the front seat of the hatchback she had found relatively intact, parked in the garage she had taken refuge in. That night, she had remained huddled in its back seat, keeping still and praying that whatever she had spied roaming the streets of Exeter had not found her. Occasionally, she would hear a scream that chilled her blood to the bone and she knew she would never again get be able to see a spider without wanting to squash the living fuck out of it.

 

The entire town was like a scene from some B grade horror movie starring Peter Cushing or Wings Hauser. It wasn’t the scenes of destruction and corpses that unnerved her so, it was the big black bodies of large spiders scurrying along the walls of buildings, spinning webs between lamp posts, capturing birds and people who wandered unwittingly into it. She saw what she thought were dogs, looking like bears, patrolling the town with malevolent yellow eyes.

 

And then there were the guys in the dark cloaks.

 

Dementors, that’s what she called them, Dementors.


It was the closest she could come describing the tall dark men in their flowing black cloaks, whose faces were hidden beneath hoods and whose eyes looked glowing embers of fire. When she saw them, he breath had caught and perhaps it was the chill of the English weather but Lori felt a shiver run down her back and wrap itself around her spine in tendrils of cold. For seconds after they had gone, she could feel only the fear lingering inside her bones, like an unpleasant after taste she could not get out of her mouth.

 

A good hour had passed before she dared to move again and even then the sense of dread they had left behind in their wake was hard to dispel. She spent the rest of the night, clutching her service revolver to her chest, listening to every sound. From the moment the sun had set, she saw them moving through Exeter, a menagerie of nightmarish creatures, she still had trouble believing was real. Yet she knew they were, the bodies and the blood gave her no illusions about what she was seeing.

 

The strange procession of creatures moved down the street, led by the ‘Dementors’ before they mounted what looked like a dragon only smaller and less formidable. The winged creatures allowed themselves to be mounted like horses before carrying its riders aloft. Lori was trapped between her fear and her fascination at what these things were. Forgetting their destructive might, seeing the dragons take flight across the sky was one of the most incredible scenes she had ever seen.  Majestic, powerful, it was difficult to deny that they were in their own way beautiful.

 

The other thing that stood out in her memory during her viewing of this midnight exodus was the man.

 

She didn’t recognize him but the fact that he was their leader was undeniable.

 

The man and his companion, a human female with just enough swell to her belly to indicate pregnancy emerged from the town cathedral before joining the creatures on the street. Climbing on the backs of the winged animals that also carried the ‘Dementors’, both were borne away into the night sky, amidst the flapping of great wings. While the man seemed totally confident and master of all before him, the mask of fear on the woman’s face struck Lori. However she had come to be in this situation, it was not by choice. If Lori weren’t utterly certain that it would get her killed and avail the woman nothing, she would have tried to help her.

 

As it was, once both riders were on the backs of the winged beasts, the creatures gained altitude with the grace of a bird, belying its cruel serpentine visage. She watched them ascend, along with the ‘Dementors’ and as if some silent order had been issued, the rest of the bestiary began their journey out of Exeter. As they departed down the road, Lori was able to see for the first time, the complete menagerie of creatures that had laid waste to this small English town.

 

Watching them made her skin crawl and renewed her determination to get to authorities and warn them what was coming their way. In the air, the dragons flew like flocks of birds, the power of their great wings, making the trees rustle as they passed. On the ground, there were the wolves or bears, she couldn’t tell what they were exactly; only that they were bigger than the largest tiger she had ever seen and muscles rippled powerfully under glossy russet pelts. The spiders were larger than dogs and they were so many that no matter how much Lori told herself that she was an air force pilot who had seen worse things, she still came down with a severe case of the heebie-jeebies at the sight of the things.

 

Marching along with the wolf/bears and the spiders, were what she could only call giants. Of course these weren’t anything like the Robbie Coltrane version. These ones didn’t look remotely human. They were big and hairless, their features seemed melted and though biped, they were hunched forward, carrying huge clubs and maces. There were so many that Lori knew the two magazines of .357 caliber shells for her Smith-Wesson semi-automatic was just not going to keep her alive for very long if they became aware of her presence.

 

 

She had watched long enough to know she needed to hide and hide well. They were leaving and the sensible course was to keep out of sight until they had gone. She returned to her hiding place and squirreled in for the night, wondering what Stygian nightmare she had found herself. This was the 21st century and yet her plane had gone down because of an ambush by a fire-breathing dragon.

 

It didn’t get much weirder than that.

 

The next morning, Lori awoke to find herself thankfully alone in the town.

 

Her brief exploration what she had surmised the night before; everyone was dead and if they weren’t dead, they had wisely left before they met the grisly demise of those who had not.  Each house she entered was the scene of some violence with grisly discoveries waiting to be found. When she did not find blood, she instead noted evidence of yet another hasty departure. After trying to use a dozen phones, Lori gathered the tools she needed to start the car she had found.

 

Sparks bit into her hand as she connected the exposed wires, with Lori holding her breath in anticipation that her attempts to start the vehicle would succeed this time. After a dozen attempts, her frustration was growing and her desire to escape this ghost town was making her more than a little impatient. No one in the outside world knew what was going on and what was worse yet; the government’s attempt to maintain the information blackout was worsening the situation. No one had any idea what was coming their way and by the time they did, it would be too late.

 

A rumble of the engine after another burst of electricity brought the car to life and Lori let out a cry of triumph. Unfortunately, upon sitting up and taking a look at the gauges, it seemed her luck was only half good. The gauge on the gas tank indicated that it was almost empty. With another curse, Lori powered down the engine and went in search of gas. Considering what she had seen, she wanted to have fuel enough to get her to the nearest military base, which in this case was at Barnstaple at Chivenor. Military bases had their own means of communication and she was certain that they’d have some way around this blackout, possibly even escaped the range of it

 

She walked to the local gas station and found that the pumps were not working. No big surprise, Lori thought to herself, power lines were undoubtedly damaged in the fires. Hoping to find a jerry can at least, she walked to the closed garage and pulled open the sliding door. It was heavy and creaked as it moved along its rails. Entering the darkness, she pushed the door further along, intending to let in more light so she could see.

 

The first thing that hit her was the stench.

 

Its stink was so potent and ripe that Lori’s stomach hollowed immediately. She nearly gagged and wondered, against her better judgment, what could possibly be in here, in a garage to cause this rancid stench. Widening the door did not help and Lori reached into her flight jacket to pull out her trusty Zippo lighter to provide some illumination on the subject. A second later, she wished she hadn’t. As if the night before hadn’t been some twisted chamber of horrors, what she saw now destroyed any attempt at bravado that Lori tended to wear around herself when she was hiding her fear.

 

The bodies were wrapped in silk, dangling from the ceiling.

 

Not all of them of them were dead and although there was nothing to be done for them. The eggs sacs had been fastened around their flesh and during the course of formation, the tiny hatchling inside them had begun to feed. If these people were still alive than she couldn’t begin to imagine what they agony they were enduring. What parts of them she could see resembled dry husks like cordwood and some were missing limbs as they were slowly eaten alive by hungry hatchlings. She counted a dozen easily and knew she couldn’t leave them like this.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered and pulled out her gun, taking aim at them.

 

If they heard her, they certainly did not answer.

 

The first bullet cracked its victim skull with a wet splatter but it was to Lori’s horror that there wasn’t blood enough in the body to cause any crimson spray. Spiders fed by desiccating their meals, she reminded herself, there wouldn’t be much blood.

 

Suddenly a flurry of movement caught her eye and she heard a sound like something wet tearing. Holding up her lighter, trying to see what this might be, she began to retreat out the door when she was stopped by the sound of something scratching against the wood. First it was singular and then it became many, until she decided that it was time to leave. She turned to the door and saw them, like a black swarm barring her way, daring her to cross the threshold.

 

“Screw this,” Lori thought, bracing herself before leaping through the entry.

 

One of them landed on her back and the size of it was like a cat. Ignoring her revulsion, she grabbed one of its legs and ripped if off her flight suit, flinging it aside. Not allowing herself time to think of twice, Lori took aim and fired. The infant spider had just enough time to roll onto its spindly legs and skitter towards her when the .357 shells tore it apart with sickly squelch. However, it appeared she was nowhere out of trouble. The swarm began to run down the doorway and spilled out into concrete, coming towards her.

 

No way was she going to be dealing with these things while trying to find an escape out of town. Looking at the abandoned shop front of the gas station, Lori ran into the establishment and scanned the aisle for what she needed. She didn’t have much time, they were starting to spread out, some after her, some not. In either case, she wasn’t letting them get past this point. The soldier in her refused to let it happen. Picking up what she needed, a handful of them, she hurled the bottle into the thickest part of the swarm.

 

The glass bottle shattered, spraying the creatures with its yellowish fluid. Wasting no time, she let out a round and stood back as the turpentine ignited thanks to the effect a full metal jacket bullet had on concrete. They screamed in agony as the flames lit them up and she saw others retreating before she flung another bottle in that direction and set that alight to. She continued to do so until they had retreated into the garage. Then she threw the remaining bottles into it and set that alight too.  

 

*************

 

Astonishing as it might seem, the thoughts of Legolas Greenleaf were not fixed upon the rampage of Sauron through Arda but rather on the wife that was sailing not only to London with Cirdan but further away from him.

 

He knew that he was to blame for much of what had transpired between them and shocked as he might have been for her desire to dissolve their union, if not their bonding, Legolas could not find it in himself to deny her. In fact, as he assessed his conduct over the years, he realized a good deal of what she said was truthful. He was drawn to her because she was Melia in another life. His whole impetus for becoming her husband was because of his love for the Ranger he had wedded in Arda.

 

The Ranger he had never been able to let go.

 

He had clung to the memory of her and forgotten all about Ariel. His regret was profound but he did not know how to change, did not know how to alter the course he had unwisely set. Legolas longed for his wife but only because she radiated the spirit of his old love. He wondered if he had ever bothered to even know his wife, the woman not the soul. To his shame, he knew the answer was no.

 

Perhaps it was for the best that they went their separate ways…

 

The thought was not allowed to complete itself as it was interrupted by the sudden crack of gunfire.


Legolas straightened up immediately, the keen senses of his elven hearing allowing him to hear before anyone else in the SUV vehicle that Bryan was driving. Since their departure from Mithlond, they had been traveling east to London, one of Sauron’s places of power. The journey there had been harrowing to say the least since it was a path littered by scenes of terrible carnage. The devastation caused by Sauron’s army of fell beasts shocked even the most jaded of them and after awhile, there was an unspoken decision to forge on ahead and not pause unless there was real need to.

 

It would serve no purpose to fill their heads with so much destruction for the more they saw it, the greater the risk that their belief in Sauron’s defeat would be diminished.

 

“We have to stop,” Fred declared from her place in between Miranda and Frank.

 

”What?” Bryan demanded, shooting a look to the back seats.

 

“Fred, are you sure?” Miranda asked although she was fairly certain that if the girl said they needed to stop, then they needed to stop.

 

“She speaks true Bryan,” Legolas spoke up before the girl could answer. “I heard the fire of guns.”

 

“What direction?” the former MI6 man asked automatically.

 

“Over there,” Legolas pointed to a stretch of road. 

 

Exeter is in that direction,” Eric commented. “It’s the only large town around here.”

 

“That’s where we have to go.” Fred reaffirmed, glancing at both Frank and Miranda as she spoke.

 

“Then that’s where we’ll go luv,” Frank retorted, still going through the motions that it was a child seated between himself and his wife even though everything that Fred had said and done since they left Valinor said otherwise. Nevertheless, the occupant of Fred’s body had been wrong about nothing since they had arrived here.  While Elrond and Galadriel knew who it was inside her, neither was about to reveal it and the girl herself, remained damnably evasive.

 

Bryan wasted no time, turning off the A30 highway on to the stretch of road that led to Exeter. From the highway, they could see the steady column of billowing smoke rising from the ground. It wasn’t the first sign of fire they had seen since they had returned home. Sauron’s dragons had turned much of the English countryside into a flaming pyre. The former lord of Mordor was ensuring that anyone who escaped the destruction would have nothing to return back to.


Alpington Road took them straight into Exeter and as soon as the township began to surround them on either side of the SUV, the evidence of Sauron’s presence began to show rather prolifically. The scene was no different than any they had seen since leaving Mithlond as they passed burnt out buildings, damaged shop fronts and cars that had crashed into lamp posts and halted owing to some similar violence. Deep gouges that ran across the smooth finish, parallel to one another, added further evidence to the fates of those who had resided in this community but likely lived no more.


”Jesus,” Aaron uttered bitterly, “I don’t think it’s going to stop making me sick no matter how many times I see the same thing.”

 

The sound of gunfire was audible to all of them now and Bryan put his foot on the gas, being an old hat at this long enough to know how which direction it came from to get there quickly. The gunfire was coming from the same place as the column of smoke that was steadily increasing its volume as it emptied dark ash into the air.

 

 

*************

 

In retrospect, Lori realized that burning down the spider hatchery was probably not such a good idea.

 

Mostly because upon discovering the eminent danger, the hatchlings had erupted from their sacs, found the quickest way out of the burning building before joining the remainder of their rather irate that had not been trapped with fire.

 

And like all new predators, the first thing on their mind was food.

 

Unfortunately as Lori was responsible for burning down their nest where their parents had left them provisions that left her as their best source of nourishment since she was the only living thing left in Exeter. Chased by a swarm of the damn things, Lori’s attempt to disperse them with stray rounds had done little to halt their pursuit. She considered taking refuge in a building but knew that was no answer. She had seen what had happened to the citizens of Exeter who had tried that strategy. She had no desire to end up cocooned and hanging off a web like some bug.

 

The best plan she had was the car she had been working on. It didn’t have much gas but at least it would get her far enough away from here to come up with another plan or better, yet, not be eaten for awhile. Not being eaten for a while was really the foremost thought on her mind as she tore down the road, emptying rounds into the sea of black bodies behind her. After this day, no spider of any size was going to survive long near her person.

 

The Air Force lieutenant focused on getting away and did not think about how close or persistent the creatures were. If she began to think on that, she might as well let the things kill her now because she’d be no good to anyone let her alone herself.  She maintained this line of reasoning when the last bullet impacted against the round body of a spider, splattering noisome material over the others around it. Lori felt her stomach hollow when she saw a group of them close in on their dead sibling and feeding, giving her a clear indication of just how ravenous they were.

 

Suddenly, amidst all this, she heard what sounded awfully like the drone of a car engine.

 

Her heart swelling with hope, Lori hoped this wasn’t the product of wishful thinking as she put more power into her strides, determined to gain a few more precious feet so that she could stay alive long enough to find the vehicle in question. She had been a runner in high school but even her reserves were being stretched to the limit. If she didn’t rest soon, her legs were going to give out.

 

Its game over then Lorelei.  Thank you for playing. Nope, sorry not going to go out as a bug smorgasbord. Air force people didn’t die as insect food. They died surrounded by twisted metal and glass, the way God intended.

 

 

When the SUV skidded around the corner, Lori came to an abrupt halt.

 

Behind her, the spiders were gaining and she resumed running, putting the last of her reserves to close the distance between her and the vehicle. Discarding her useless gun, she saw the driver swing the wheel hard, turning the vehicle around so that the back of the vehicle faced her. For a moment, she almost thought that they were going to leave but then the SUV came to a screeching halt. The hatch door lifted open and a blond woman was shouting at her.

 

“Get in! Get in!”

 

Don’t have to tell me twice sister, Lori thought to herself as she put everything she had into reaching the vehicle. The spiders sensing that their prey was close to escape had begun launching themselves at her in a desperate attempt to stop Lori from reaching safe harbor. The distance she had gained was narrowing and when she looked behind her to see the ferocity of the pursuit, Lori knew if she didn’t reach that SUV in the next few seconds, she’d never leave Exeter alive.

 

“HURRY!” A male voice shouted.

 

Deciding to make or break, Lori jumped the last few feet, her knees making contact with the carpeted floor of the vehicle when she landed. Her kneecaps flared with pain and she felt hands pulling her the rest of the way in. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the spiders jumping forward too.

 

“GO! GO! GO!” She demanded.

 

The spiders began jumping off the paved road towards the open door.

 

BRYAN GO!” Miranda shouted as one of the filthy beasts landed inches away from the new arrival's feet.  The woman's reacting was swift as she brought down a heavy combat boot down on its mid section before a powerful kick sent it hurtling out of the car back onto the road.

 

Bryan hit the accelerator and sent the car lurching forward, causing his passengers to jerk back and forth unceremoniously as the vehicle escaped its stationary position. The woman they had rescued was scrambling toward the hatch door, slamming it shut on what appeared to be a dark spindly leg attempting to climb into the main body of the car. With a sickening squelch, the door shut heavily and they were off, leaving behind the swarm on insects on the road.

 

"Hey you alright?" Aaron asked the dark haired woman who was breathing hard and regaining her composure from the front of the SUV. "You hurt?"

 

"Oh I'm just goddamn peachy!" Lori cursed, letting her nerves settle after that rather nerve-wracking night but grateful to hear a familiar accent.

 

"Ah you Yanks turn such a lovely phrase," Eric smirked in Aaron's direction.

 

"Yeah right," Lori retorted looking over her rescuers, "because Russell Crowe is such a class act."

 

Eric opened his mouth to respond but was given a look of sisterly warning from Miranda.

 

"Behave," she ordered before turning back to Lori. "Are you alright?" She asked the question and this time, she wanted a proper answer.

 

"I'm fine," Lori said recognizing the woman as someone who was accustomed to being in charge.  She had no problems with that, especially when these people had saved her from what would have a pretty awful death. "Thanks for coming by when you did. I don't think I was going to keep ahead of those things much longer."

 

Legolas was staring at the woman, thinking that this was indeed a perfect example of Aaron's more description of their past selves finding each other again, cosmic turntables indeed.

 

Lori caught the blond man staring and furrowed her brow when she noticed something strange about him.

 

"Hey," she declared to no one in particular. "What's with the ears?"

 

*************

 

 

London Bridge had fallen down.

 

It had taken less than an hour after the first watcher had collided against the underwater pylons for a good portion of the bridge to crumble and disappear beneath the waters of the Thames. Normally a catastrophe of this magnitude would draw attention of September 11 proportions but hardly anyone had time to react to the destruction of one of London's most enduring landmarks. Everyone was too busy dealing with the more immediate threat that was facing the Southwark and Tower bridge motorists. Having devastated London Bridge, the terrible creatures were now concentrating on these instead and causing motorists to endure the same nightmare that Megan Stanley had found herself facing before her untimely demise.

 

Emergency services and police were galvanized into action but their rescue efforts were hampered by a number of factors; firstly they had no idea what it was they were dealing with and secondly, an even greater peril had shown itself in the form of the great dragons who were now bathing south London in flames.  From Fenchurch to St Paul’s Cathedral, the beasts flew above roof tops on houses and buildings alike, setting anything that was within reach ablaze.  London was in a state of chaos that no amount of terrorist response preparation had been able to predict.

 

This time however, David Saeran did nothing to disrupt the communication blackout that had kept the southwest in the dark. This time, he let the news crews with their cameras capable of invading every home, every computer on the planet; see what he wanted them to see. They took in the grisly images of the bridges and the humans on it who were torn apart by the watchers. He allowed the world to see his dragons swooping down on London and laying the city to waste, unstoppable and relentless. 

 

With amusement, he watched from the backs of the winged beasts, the army being mobilized to deal with the Watchers. Soldiers were rallied from Wellington barracks and by the look of them, not the usual infantry. These were SAS men, the former Lord of Mordor noted and upon realizing this felt a sliver of hatred run through him recalling that Bryan Miller was one of these. With their guns and their missile launchers, they approached the bridges, attempting to deal with the beasts.

 

A large group of these so called ‘special forces’ types approached Southwark bridge in an attempt to rescue the slowly dwindling number of people who were still left alive that hadn’t been taken by the Watchers and had yet to reach safety. Saeran watched as Morgul’s beast descended upon them. From his vantage point on top of Mansion House, he watched his most powerful lieutenant stepped fearlessly into the fray, with Khamul and Ren at his side. The humans had no idea what to make of these dark robed figures and reacted in almost predictable fashion.

 

The hail of bullets from their Bren machines guns did little to halt the Nazgul whom Saeran had ensured would never be hurt by the weapons of man and this occasion was no different. Morgul seemed to move through the bullets as if they were hardly there and as the soldiers recovered from this, the Nazul paused before them. His abrupt stop confused them and Saeran smile when he saw them reloading their weapons, desperately seeking another avenue of attack.

 

It never came.

 

The Black Breath escaped the trio of wraiths and struck down anyone in its path, soldier and civilian alike. In the surrounding buildings, all who heard it immediately felt into a dark malaise of despair, frozen in place unable to do anything.  The soldiers crumbled to their knees, unable to fight the dark magic as their weapons clattered uselessly to the ground.

 

Suddenly the sound erupted with the sound of powerful engines as Saeran looked up to see even more planes approaching the dragons in the distance. Probably from Tidwoth or even Plymouth. Really it only took 30 minutes for any plane to reach London, Saeran thought. The dragons had been enjoying themselves immensely with the fighter planes, having torn most of them apart like delightful new toys. This time was no different as he saw them break off their efforts in razing London to the ground and flew to greet the approaching planes.

 

After all, even dragons knew how to play.

 

*************

 

If Elrond had been sequestered away during the voyage to London, it had been with good reason.  His gift of foresight was allowing him a far clearer view of what was taking place in the city of London than he would have preferred.  Each death struck at him like the lash and though he knew that it was not his fault, being able to visualize the destruction and horror of these unsuspecting mortals took their toll upon him.  However, as always, the Lord of Imladris rose above such evil to be strong for those who needed courage.

 

Emerging into the deck, he saw in the distance the pillars of smoke rising into the sky from the land in the distance. They had sailed with the shore within sight, navigating the coast of the islands that had once been the Shire. While its present residents did not recall its history, Elrond could sense that the land itself remembered quite clearly.

As he stepped onto the deck, he saw his fellow elves hard at work. Indeed, many had been engaged in such duty since they had departed Valinor and continued this labour through the voyage. Ahead of the fleet they could see the ripples in the water that indicated the passage of Captain Hill’s own undersea vehicle. Elrond like Cirdan, could not imagine a more indifferent way of traveling in Ulmo’s realm. How could one travel so deep in the ocean and be so far removed away from all its beauty and power at the same time?

 

The ways of the Edain could be very strange at times.

 

“Can you feel it?” Elrond asked as he approached Cirdan who stood at the bow of his ship, watching the smoke rising in the distance, a beacon of darkness calling out to all who saw it.

 

“Yes,” Cirdan nodded, his voice hushed and disturbed.  “He is far stronger than he has ever been. The girl was right; he has taken Morgoth’s power for his own. I do not know if we have strength enough to stop him.”

 

“It is the End of Days my friend,” Elrond patted him on the back. “It may not be fate that this be stopped at all. It may be that our only role is to fight.”


”Even if it means our deaths?” Cirdan looked at the younger lord in question.

 

“We’ve lived long Cirdan,” Elrond met the sea master’s gaze with a raised brow. “We have seen gods walk among us, we have paid court to kings and wizards. We have lived well. There is no shame in its end.”

 

Cirdan nodded ruefully, “I suppose that is true.”

 

“If it must end,” Elrond looked ahead to the horizon. “Can you think not of a better way to enter Mandos than in fighting for a cause that is as great as the one we now face?”

 

“You always knew how to keep things in perspective,” Cirdan broke into a grin.  “No, I cannot think of a better way to leave this world.”

 

“Neither can I,” Elrond shared his smile and then added. “Still, we are not defeated, not yet at least. How many of harpoons do we have?”

 

With a determined set to his jaw, Cirdan answered firmly and with no small measure of pride. “Enough to give Sauron the war he craves.”

 

Elrond nodded and continued to stare at the smoke filled sky, growing nearer and nearer as the elven fleet left the English Channel and began up the length of the great River Thames.

 

“Well then Cirdan,” he said with his head held high and his eyes fixed on the road head, whatever the outcome, “in the words of the Edain, let us cry havoc and slip the dogs of war.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED