Chapter Fifteen:

Unexpected Allies

Although piloting a Lear jet for the purpose of pre-empting the arrival a dark lord to his ancient lair was beyond the scope of what she considered normal; Captain Lori Hill still derived some comfort at being in the air again.

Piloting the jet across the English Channel and into the European continent was something she could do. The simple act of sitting behind the controls and flying the craft from one place to another did much to restore the equilibrium so put out off balance since bailing out of her fighter above Exeter. For someone as practical as she, who lived in a world with strictly defined boundaries, the events of the last few days had shaken the foundations of her dependable existence.

As she flew eastward, Lori knew she hadn’t quite escaped the strange events that were spanning the globe thanks to David Saeran or depending on whom you asked, the dark lord Sauron. It was evident in the silence over the airwaves as she flew towards Romania. Lori had expected being inundated with the outraged cries of air traffic controllers demanding their immediate landing for stealing an aircraft or at the very least; for not lodging a flight plan. However, the further into Europe they traversed, the less likely it seemed that anyone was concerned at their violation of airspace. In a post 9/11 world, it was simply abnormal.

There came a point when she began searching herself, the various radio channels for any kind of chatter from air traffic control but all she received other than the random bursts of static and broken news reports spoken first in French and then later German, was the same disturbing quiet. She was no stranger to radio silence but after England and seeing the broadcasts there, she’d hoped the insanity hadn’t reached this far. She was wrong.

As a pilot, she was always accustomed to facing the vastness of the sky with voices of others chattering in her ear. If it wasn’t ground control, it was the comrades in her squadron and even the chatter of civilian air traffic authorities was welcomed. The silence not only felt eerie but also lonely. She wondered if people knew that pilots and birds had more in common than they knew. Even if the difference was defined by flocks instead of squadrons, each had their own sense of unity in flight. Lori had come to rely on that solidarity and now as she embarked on a mission to destroy a dark lord who was bent on destroying the world (how did that not sound stupid??), that unity was greatly missed.

A professional soldier, she had thought that there was little that could unsettle her. When you dropped bombs over targets that had to produce civilian casualties, you developed a thick skin or be unable to function at all. Yet was happening now, terrified her.

Lori had seen a dragon, an honest to god fucking dragon and it was nothing like television or the movies had envisioned. The creature had been huge, possessing the wing span of a 747. When it hovered over her fighter, it had cast a shadow that blocked the sun. It had peered at her through the canopy of her fighter, with its glowing red eyes almost seemed like it was sneering at her. As it was intelligent enough to know that she was insignificant.

The horror hadn’t ended there either. When she landed in Exeter and saw that ruined town, with its massacred dead, she knew she’d never sleep well again. Her dreams would forever be plagued by the images of swollen black bodies attached to spindly legs and mandibles that could tear flesh. The spiders of course were only the scavengers left behind to feast on the poor souls that hadn’t been killed when Saeran’s army moved through the town like a scourge from hell.

She’d been saved by the very strangers she was now flying to Romania. Even if she did not know them well, she could see that they were shell shocked, every one of them. Lori knew what battle fatigue looked like and recognized it in varying degrees in at least three of them. The Brit with the James Bond cool, giving all the orders, was holding them together but there was ripcord waiting to be pulled on the world of pain hidden behind his eyes. The doctor was in almost as bad shape. He was driving them hard to get to his wife, the terrified pregnant woman Lori had seen swollen with child even though she supposed to be a few weeks along.

Then there was Erik, whom she'd thought was cute because of his pretty eyes and chewable lips that was now just as broken as the others. His best friend hadn't made it back and it seemed like it was yet another tragedy these people been forced to endure since this all began. She felt for him but did not know him enough to offer comfort. She left that to the mom and pop who assured him that his friend’s sacrifice had saved their children’s lives and it was not in vain. It was still cold comfort in Lori’s opinion.

And then of course, there was little Fred.

Fred who looked like a seven year old girl but sounded like Yoda and seemed to know about what was happening than any of the adults around her. More than anything, hearing her speak with portents of doom exuding from every word she said, made Lori want to demand a timeout so she could get off this ride. Without the chatter, Lori decided, these were the thoughts that occupied her mind and she wished it would stop...

“Hello”.

Lori did a double take and turned her head away from the cockpit. She found herself staring at the little moppet who was the youngest of the Miller children. Lori remembered his name was Pip. Cute.

"Hi there," Lori greeted back with an encouraging smile. She didn’t have much experience with children and never knew what to say to them. “What can I do for you?”

In a whisper, Pip replied. “My brother says that you fly army airplanes. Is that true?” His eyes stared at her with the wonder and anticipation that could only come with childhood.

Army airplanes, Lori smiled at the description and answered, “It sure is."'

"Wow," he exclaimed, Pip’s face lighting up with excitement. "Have you been on many missions? Did you shoot down enemy planes, you know...like in...Top Gun?”

“Top Gun?” Lori stared at him incredulously, laughing. “How do you even know that movie? It was around when I was a kid!”

“I saw it on cable telly. It had the Mission Impossible man on it,” he explained as matter of factly, like this was information everyone should have had.

“So have you been on many missions?” He asked again before remembering to keep his voice low. Pip was certain that if mum and dad heard him, they’d call him away thinking he was bothering her.

“A few,” she smiled, wondering what it was about little boys that loved hearing about battles and such. Then again, she was her father’s daughter and she’d been no different herself.

“Did you shoot at the Russians?” Pip asked as he moved furtively into the co-pilot’s seat, awaiting her answer with rapt anticipation.

It astonished Lori that with all the terrible things this child had undoubtedly seen in the last two days, Pip still maintained possessed childhood wonder. Even more so when one remembered that he and his older brother had barely escaped being killed by the same monster that’d killed Eric’s best friend. Children had more resilience than adults, Lori decided and realised that if child could keep it together than so could she.

“No Russians,” she answered, “but I have had a few skirmishes with Iraqis...”

********

An hour after they’d taken off from Bristow airport and were well across the Channel, Bryan noted that everyone had started to relax as much as they could, considering were they going. The trip across Europe would take them five hours due to the speed of smaller aircraft and the fact that their starting point had been Bristol. By the second hour, the day had caught up with some of them and the MI6 agent could hear light snores throughout the cabin.

He noted Aaron had fallen asleep which was a good thing because the doctor had been tense and fearful for most of their trip back to England worrying about Eve. A few hours rest would probably do little to abate his anxieties but it wouldn’t hurt either. Frank had also nodded off, with Sammy draped across his lap. Miranda was sitting next to Eric and though Bryan couldn’t hear what they were saying since they spoke in quiet tones, he imagined Miranda was doing what she could to comfort the man over the loss of Jason.

Fred continued to stare out the window, with thoughts so beyond any of them that Bryan was hesitant to interrupt her. Truth be told, she unnerved him a little.

Standing up from his seat next to her, Fred didn’t notice his departure as Bryan made his way to the galley. Thankfully, the expensive tastes of the original passengers ensured that it was fully stocked for their journey. This included a good supply of alcohol and Bryan was pleasantly surprised by the cans of John Smith’s Extra Smooth properly chilled by now. Twisting the bottle top open, he took a swig and savoured the taste before returning to his seat.

Passing Legolas, he saw the elf looking troubled in his seat. Not because of what they were facing or the fact that the elf was never really comfortable with air travel, Bryan wagered but with the state he had left things with his wife, Ariel. He’d been aware that the elf and his lady had parted company before they’d left Valinor and he’d heard something of the discussion between Legolas and Aaron but had not broached the subject with Legolas himself.

“You alright?” He asked lowering himself into the seat across the elf.

Legolas faced Bryan and answered somewhat sedately, “Do I not seem well?"

“Not really,” Bryan said frankly, in no mood to lie and he suspected neither Legolas was in the same frame of mind.

“I supposed I do not,” Legolas sighed unable to argue with this truth. “I have much on my mind.”

Bryan nodded. "You thinking about your missus?"

Legolas frowned, finding it unseemly to address Ariel as such but then it appeared to be a habit of the Edain in these times to label people and objects with such informality. “Yes, I am considering what she has said about our marriage. I cannot fault her for being angry. As I told Aaron earlier, perhaps it would be the most merciful thing to let her find another.”

Bryan raised a brow, “I thought you elves couldn’t do that.” Bryan hadn’t made it a point to study everything about elven culture the way Frank and Aaron had but that much he knew about their relationships.

"We can't but then it has never been quite that simple with Ariel,” Legolas confessed and then felt immediately guilty because he was the one who had complicated their relationship. “When I first met her, I knew her. I knew her soul. I could not have joined with her otherwise. She had Melia’s spirit in her. Eru always said that the souls of men do not go to the same place as the Eldar so I believe that she was returned to me except....” his voice trailed off.

“Except?” Bryan prompted. “Except what?”

“Except she wasn’t Melia.”

Saying it out loud felt almost profane, like it had been this secret he had been holding onto for so very long. Yet at the same time, Legolas felt liberated as well. The admission had sat upon the tip of his tongue for so long that and now that he had spoken it out loud, wondered how he could have kept silent for so long.

"What was she like?" Bryan asked gently, seeing real anguish on Legolas’ face at reaching that conclusion.

Bryan never thought about the soul because men like him couldn’t afford to. A soldier couldn’t think about the other bloke and the life being taken away. However, if he had formed any thoughts about it, his conclusion would have been that the soul was merely essence. Each new iteration or reincarnation as was the case here was an opportunity to be better than what came before. Bryan knew that he shared some of Boromir’s traits from what Legolas and Gandalf had told him. However, the difference between Bryan and Boromir was that he never felt weighted down by his duty to Queen and Country the way Boromir felt weighted by Gondor.

“Human,” Legolas answered softly, his eyes glistening with emotion. Even now, so long after she had died, it hurt him to think of her. “Wonderfully human. We fought all the time and yet it was the conflict that made me adore her so. Melia possessed a temper, was often unreasonable but she was also wise. Every day I spent with her was a surprise to me and I have never understood how to live without her.” His voice cracked a little as he said those last words.

“But you’re not without her Legolas,” Bryan pointed out, wondering how someone so long lived could miss the point entirely. “You married an elf, expecting a human and now you’re disappointed that she’s not exactly the same as Melia?”

“I am not disappointed,” Legolas started to protest but Bryan cut him off.

“She’s here, this woman you loved. Stop living with the idea of who she was and think of her now. She is here as an elf who can share the rest of your life with you.” Bryan declared and then paused a moment, collecting his thoughts and solidifying his composure. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do to have that. Tory is gone and I know I’ll never see her again but your missus is here and she loves you. Don’t turn your back on that because of a memory.”

Legolas swallowed because Bryan was right. He had never been able to get past the loss of Melia, he knew somewhere inside Ariel, his former love was there and he had hoped to draw her out, to experience life with her as he had in the Third Age. However, she was not there in the way he believed she was and the expectation had forced him to ignore everything else about his wife.

He felt ashamed and wondered with the End of Days here, was it at all possible to rectify his error. Whether he had any reason to expect a chance to make amends. Then he recalled what Bryan said about Tory and his oath that he would have done anything to be with his love again.

He had once made a similar statement about Melia and now it appeared, he had utterly failed to keep that promise.

*******

Marie Dumas knew she shouldn't be out on the street this morning.

She'd seen the news and knew that there were strange things happening in France. Last night, she watched horrifying images of carnage on the Chaîne 2 with her room mates Francois and Michel with disbelief. At Sangatte, Calais, terrible creatures that defied modern belief, poured out of the Chunnel from England and began a bloody rampage in the small community that serviced busy travellers coming or going the British Isles from Europe.

The broadcast had been erratic, as if it were fighting to penetrate the fog of static to reach them on the screen. Fuzzy images revealed mutant looking men that was the only way she could think to describe them, attacking innocents with crude and cruel looking weapons. Misshapen, diseased, with dark, greenish skin that seemed slimy, they wore sinister leers that added to their already malevolent features. Some snapped their teeth at the camera, almost amused they were being recorded, happy to show their barbarism and they hacked some poor innocent to pieces in front of a horrified audience.

The military had gone into interfere because France and the world had been somewhat aware of the situation in England. Their appearance provided no comfort, even when the scene became punctuated with burst of artillery fire. While she, Michael and Francois were uncertain what they were seeing on the screen, there was no mistaking the shape that had swooped down on the soldier, astride some kind of flying dinosaur. A dragon, she thought at the time until of course, she saw Paris burning and knew what a dragon really looked like.

The shape, all dressed in black, made her immediately think of the Dementors from Harry Potter. But unlike those floating, fictional spectres, this thing was real. Astride his mount, it dived towards the soldiers and uttered a scream. It was muted by the television broadcast but Marie felt chilled to the core when she saw the soldiers react to the sound violently. They collapsed on the ground, holding their ears and screaming as if their ear drums had been bursts, every one of them, with blood oozing out down their necks.

They lay there senseless until set upon by the enemy, the mutant men, and the wolves the size of bears, so large that they could be ridden and the spiders. The spiders, all sized like large dogs, skittered across the street on the ground or alongside buildings, moving in unison like a black swarm that gave her nightmares for the rest of the night. The spectre thing seemed to be leading the nightmarish invaders and every time they were challenged, it dealt with the enemy in much the same manner.

They seemed unstoppable.

Marie, Michel and Francois debated what to do that night. Francois had packed up immediately and gone to fetch his parents to escape away from the approaching horde. Michel had opted to stay put and advised Marie to do the same. For that evening, she complied.

Today was a different matter.

The enemy had arrived in Paris. She hadn't remained to watch all the details on the television but she'd seen enough. Paris was burning and the city was mobilized in a way it had not been since the Second World War, when its citizens had battled the Nazis at the gate. Marie hoped, this time Paris would fare better. The radio had started the morning off with reports that the army was evacuating people across the city. Michel had asked her to go with him until Marie received a call from her papa who worked at the Louvre.

Papa had said to come to the Louvre. Many people were gathering there and it was one of the most secure places in France, if not Europe. Post World War II and more recently with the rise of terrorism in the modern world, the Louvre had been properly fortified against the worst threats. Marie had ventured out into the streets and confronted by scenes that seemed straight out of the newsreel of the two great wars. In the distance, she could see the Eiffel Tower and her jaw dropped in horror.

Perched on top of it, the way a pigeon might roost, she saw something decidedly reptilian clinging to the metal latticework, its saurian neck reared up as it breathed a wall of flame into the sky. Its wings flapped behind its back and Marie thought she was still in her bed dreaming. A dragon. It was dragon. The creature was not alone. They soared above the cities, bellowing their absolute mastery of the skies in ear piercing roars breathed in flame. Their cries drowned out the jet engines of fighter jets attempting to fight them off; no matter how unmatched the combat might appear.

Smoke was rising into the Parisian sky as she was buildings engulfed in flames Cloud of the stuff billowed into the air, like signal fires across the city. Maries had dressed warmly, wearing boots and a parka, a backpack slung over her shoulders filled with the essentials for someone who expected to live rough for an indefinite time. Hurrying along the walkway that took her past the Tulleries with the Seine on her right flank, she ignored the sounds of gunfire, the screaming and the debris littered streets. The streets that were devoid of people.

So intent was she to avoid the danger on route to the Louvre, Marie forgot about the River.

When it came and snatched her off the ground, she was taken completely by surprise. One minute she was running, the next she was in the air, with something thick and wet clamped around her foot. She uttered a short cry at first, mostly because she'd been startled until whatever had her foot lifted her over the railing and she was dangling by the ankle over the waters of the Seine. When the Watcher made its presence known, emerging from the depths as the waters rushed over its slick body to reveal its full monstrous, that's when Marie understood the real nature of her predicament.

She'd never screamed in her life but as she saw the widening jaws of the beast beneath her, the one about to make a meal of her with its foot long teeth, she screamed with pure terror and did not stop. Her mind overloading at the horror of the death she was about to experiencing, there was no time for rational thought to debate how this beast could exist any more than the thing perched atop the Eiffel Tower. Arms flailing helplessly, Marie struggled to escape frantically, her cries of hysterical screams of desperation.

All of a sudden, something flew through the air. It caught the sunlight as it streaked past her. Thick and silverish in colour, it struck the beast in what passed for its skull. Black ooze that didn't look quite like blood, sputtered from the raw wound as the harpoon dug deep into the slick, dark flesh. The creature bellowed with agony, releasing her ankle in response. Marie's screams were abruptly silenced by the sudden impact against the water. As the dark waters swallowed her, she felt herself sinking towards the depth, dragged down by the weight of her backpack.

She saw the creature in its entirety then, a thing with too many tentacles, swirling about her in reaction to the pain while above the water, it was thrashing. It wasn't alone either.

Mon dieu, there was more than one!

The creatures seemed engaged by what was happening on the surface and Marie had bigger problems as she struggled to unfasten the clasp of her backpack. Her lung were burning as she struggled to make her fingers work despite the cool of the water and her intense fear. Her fingers refused to cooperate and had she been able to cry out with frustration she would have done so. It was becoming harder and harder to concentrate and her disorientation from the lack of oxygen was further hindering her attempts to get free.

And then from nowhere, a hand clasped around her waist, she tried to scream again thinking that it was one of the creatures coming back for her. She struggled but briefly when she saw it was not a tentacle around her but an arm. The weight on her back suddenly vanished and she saw her backpack tumbling into the depth. No chance to turn around, she was suddenly pulled towards the surface. The sun beckoned her in the sky above and Marie never thought she'd seen anything look so beautiful.

When she broke surface she did so gasping, taking greedy gulps of air like the starving man at a feast. Panting so hard, she started coughing, she felt herself being taken to the edge of the water. Marie hadn't regained her composure enough to note what was happening around her, only that seconds later, she was being hoisted onto the steps leading from the walkway to the water's edge.

"Breathe easy my lady," her rescuer said to her.

Marie stopped coughing long enough to look up and then she saw the most beautiful face she had ever seen in her whole life. Even though she was just as drenched as he, Marie found herself staring in astonishment at this man who was dressed like a warrior from the medieval age with breeches and tunic like those she had seen in museum. His dark hair was tied back and his eyes were a smoky grey and his chiselled features look at her with concern.

"Am I dead?" She asked softly.

When he smiled, her heart near melted in her chest. "You are very much alive my lady, although badly shaken I suspect."

"ELLADAN!" Someone shouted. "Prepare to move into the city, the Orcs are making towards the capital!"

The handsome stranger turned away from her to the river. Marie's gaze followed his and then her jaw dropped once. This time not from the horrible creatures that were swimming in the Seine nor the man that had saved her. No, her breath was taken away by the ships.

The ships that looked like great, gliding birds across the water at dawn. She saw the warriors on the deck doing battle with the monsters, firing harpoons and arrows

The one who had shouted at him was approaching the shore in a smaller version of those boats, accompanied by more of these stranger warriors.

He turned back to Marie, "I would ask that you find a place of safety my lady, there is much evil afoot in your city this day and my brothers and I must attend to it."

Marie could only nod dumbfounded and as he hurried away, cursed herself at not thanking him for saving her life from that terrible creature and from drowning.

And for not giving him her number.

******

Captain Henri Jardin had no idea what to expect.

Like the rest of his comrades who made the 1/7 fighter squadron Provence, he had watched in disbelief and horror as the strange invaders who had devastated the English countryside before turning London into a warzone had crossed the channel tunnel to emerge on French soil. At Calais, the army of fantastic and deadly creatures had decimated Sangatte and when the Armée de Terre moved to intercept, they were rendered defenceless by means no one was able to explain Soldiers carrying heavily artillery were somehow incapacitated and then hacked to pieces by enemy forces.

The invaders made no attempt to identify themselves as they continued eastward, pillaging and sacking, like the relic of an ancient past, where such things were done as a proof of brutal superiority as well as power.

Henri knew that his squadron was not the first to engage the enemy in the air. Others had gone to provide air support to the Armée de Terre but these had not returned. There was talk of great monsters in the air that were capable of tearing fighter jets apart like paper planes but Henri was above listening to such rumours and not about to jeopardize the mission he and his comrades were embarking by listening to talk that would cause undue fear. The silence of those other squadrons spoke volumes already.

The situation was not aided by the lack of accurate intelligence about what they were facing. They'd seen the broadcasts from England, seen the brutish, malformed faces of humanoid creatures that Henri would hesitated to call men as they murdered civilian in the streets, aided with large dogs that tore people apart and huge spiders that set upon victims like a pack of lions on a gazelle in the savannah. However, these were disjointed and only appeared to show the worst excesses of the enemy as they terrorized London.

The pattern continued when they came to France. Radio communication became severely affected, like a solar flare was frying every frequency that was used to broadcast. Nothing worked as it should and as result, the forces in authority had difficulty attempting to coordinate a plan of attack which Henri suspected was the intent all along. When broadcasts were allowed to reach their audience, the mages piercing the shroud of static depicted the slaughter to the terrified masses.

Proof of power, Henri thought to himself.

In an effort to minimize the loss of life, the military divided their resources between evacuating the areas in the path of the enemy and preparing defensive lines to keep from moving any further into France. Throughout the night, the evacuations continued, barely ahead of the enemy but those had been smaller communities, townships and villages. Paris was another matter entirely.

Paris or La Ville-Lumière was a city of millions and evacuation was not possible, not in the amount of time they had. Authorities refused to surrender their city to the invaders. Though decades in the past, the memory of the Nazis matching beneath the Arch de Triomphe was one none were willing to relive. Marshalling all their forces, the Armée de Terre and the Armée de l'Air decided that they would halt the enemy at Paris or die trying.

Thus was the reason that Henri and the pilots under his command flew their twin-engined, canard delta-wing, multirole Dassault Rafale fighters towards the city, crossing over the edge of Paris and heading towards the city centre. Beneath them, the Armée de Terre were spreading across the nineteen arrondissements of Paris, setting up blockades to hold back the invader.

"*Remember," Henri spoke into his headset to the pilots under his command. "Hold position. We do not know what took down the others and I don't want us getting twitchy until we know what that is."

Answers to the affirmative return and Henri frowned because usually there was a sense of confidence in the voices he was hearing. Not today, the images on the screen had done its work, it had scared them.

"My God!" Someone gasped and Henri identified it as belonging to Philippe.

It didn't take him but a split second to see what had caused the man's exclamation. Beneath them, the city was in flames. From Montparnasse to Parc de Belleville, it seemed as if God had smitten the city in punishment for its excesses. The air was thick with smoke, making visibility with the ground poor. Henri thought he could see the Sapeurs-pompiers in their red fire trucks speeding along roads choked with the traffic of people still trying to escape, the ones who had left it too late to evacuate.

“Hold it together!” Henri snapped, not wanting the scenes of chaos below to distract them. While terrible, his mind was occupied by what had caused the flames. He could recognize the burn pattern on the roof tops and had been in enough combat missions to recognize that the point of origin had not been from the ground but rather the air. Something was up here, the same something that had defeated the English and set London burning.

It did not take long for that something to make its appearance.

It was morning and yet a shadow fell over the fighter group heading towards the centre of Paris. At first Henri thought the sun had merely disappeared behind the clouds but when he looked up, what he saw told him it was nothing that benign.

“Mère de Dieu!” He gasped as he saw them breaking through the clouds, dispersing the crystal white particles of cold air in all directions.

There were at least five of them and with their wings expanded, the creatures were large enough to block out the sun without the assistance of the clouds. Varying in size from DC-10s to 747s. Henri recalled thinking absurdly that even now, he could only think of dimensions in terms of how closely they matched planes. Their reptilian hides were made up of a mixture of dark emerald or deep, amber scales. Prominent ridges ran from the top of their elongated skulls along their bridge of their saurian necks before disappearing into the spokes of their spinal ridge.

Dragons, Henri thought. These were dragons.

If it wasn't for the fact that the creatures had moved into a formation of their own, one which looked distinctly like a pattern of attack, Henri would have basked in the sight of them, indulging the little boy in him who believed in such things. However, he was an adult and a soldier who remembered the burning city beneath him and the pilots who had not returned from Calais.

"Break formation!! He barked as the largest of the dragons swooped towards him. He had only a second to see it overshadow his canopy when he fired his rear thrusters and the fighter pulled back sharply. The airspace in front of him was immediately filled with the bulk of the dragon that would have undoubtedly landed on his plane and sent it plummeting to the ground by its weight alone. Ignoring his incredulity at what was transpiring, Henri wasted no time opening fire, sending a barrage of bullets at beast. The creature reared its head back, momentarily surprised by the noise but other than that, remained unaffected.

Henri thought it might have leered at him, a crocodile smile full of teeth. Its nostrils snorted and in a split second of insight, Henri pulled hard on the throttle, causing the fighter to go into a barrel roll, just as the dragon expelled a blast of at him. Hot jets of flame, almost napalm induced in its intensity came rushing at him. Its a fire breathing dragon, he thought to himself. By now, he had abandoned any attempt to comprehend how any of this could be.

Struggling to regain control of his aircraft, he heard the scream of one of his men and caught a brief glimpse of a fighter caught in a deadly tail spin before it smashed against a skyscraper, the Concorde La Fayette, before exploding in a fireball of heat, flame and fused glass.

Gaston! Henri's jaw clenched in righteous fury and he drove his craft into a neat arc and surge forward again, fifty calibre shells exploding from his gun turrets as he went after the nearest dragon. When it reached his crosshairs, he disengaged from normal artillery and fired one of his missile instead The Storm Shadow aircraft missile exploded from the underside of Rafale’s wing and moved soared through the air, a trail of white smoke chasing it burner until it struck the beast on the belly.

The fireball that resulted made him turn away from the brilliance of the eruption. The shockwave, the air turbulence and the glare made him momentarily disoriented but through the brief fog, he thought he heard the outrage screeching of not just one dragon but all of them. Their bellows ignited the sky with orange tongues of flame and eclipsed the powerful roar of his plane’s engines. Only when he regained his equilibrium somewhat, did Henri realise what had caused their rage.

The dragon he had fired the missile at was hurtling towards the ground, its belly smoking. While the rest of it seemed intact, Henri glimpsed its underbelly and it to be a ruin of charred flesh.

Suddenly, Henri understood.

Without missing a beat, he shouted into his headset at anyone left in his comrades to hear. “GO FOR THE UNDERSIDE!!!!" He knew his squadron was fighting for their lives and the evidence of two thick columns of smoke rising from the ground was indication that at least two of them had lost that battle.

There was no time to feel remorse or anger at their deaths, not when the dragon whom he had first eluded was determined to end him. It lowered itself into his flight path, head bowed in readiness to attack. There was no mistaking the hatred in its yellowed eyes filled with rage or the malice in the bared foot long teeth. Henri braced himself for the worst, determined to fight but bearing no illusions that his plane was no match for the dragon’s mastery of the air.

Drawing in a deep breath, Captain Henri Renard decided he would not give it the pleasure of taking him easily. He would fight to the last. Pressing his thumb against the fire button, he took and was about to shoot...

....when suddenly something down from above and slammed the dragon hard in midair.

The force of the impact send the beast tumbling sideways through the air, its wing flapping about it in an unruly mess. Its long neck whipped from side to side, lashing about like live cable. Attached to its side, with talons so long and sharp that he could hardly process it, was an eagle. An eagle that matched the dragon in size and was attacking it with a powerful beak.

Henri blinked.

For a moment, he thought he was experiencing a dying induced illusion of rescue but then he saw the sky grow dark again and this time, instead of dragons, it was a flock of majestic eagles coming towards him. The birds were, larger than houses, easily matching the dragons in size. They engage the flying reptiles in a savage struggle of beak and claw.

Henri would have continued to stare if not for the frantic scream of one of his men. He looked about frantically and caught sight one of his men or in this case, woman, being flung from the cockpit of her plane. Karine! He thought as his heart clenched in his chest. The dragon had ripped her from her seat as easily as it had torn off the canopy of her plane and tossed her aside like rubbish. Karine continued to plummet in free fall, her screams following her down as the ground waited to claim her.

She had fallen a few more meters when an eagle dove down, its mighty expanded to its full span. It swooped down and placed itself beneath the terrified pilot. Karine landed in the soft space between its wings, behind the bird’s neck.

She is safe, Edain.

He was going mad, he had to be, Henri thought. He saw the biggest of the birds fly alongside his jet, easily keeping pace with him. Henri stared at it in awe and swore the bird was looking directly at him.

I am Grinmir, Lord of the Eagles. We have come to help.

This time, Henri was convinced that the eagle was speaking to him and tentatively responded.

From where?

From the Undying Land across the sea, Edain. The dragons cannot be harmed save their bellies. We will distract the for you, do not waste the opportunity.

His breath caught and he had his answer. If there were dragons in the air, then there were eagles that could speak. It was astonishing how quickly he reconciled with this fact and the certainty that the eagles were allies.

With that thought in mind, he issued new orders to his men. He didn’t know how many of his squadron was still in the air to listen but he would make them hear. “All fighters, do not fire at the eagles!. Do you copy, do NOT FIRE at the eagles. They are not hostiles!”

Very good Edain, Grimnir’s strange voice spoke in his mind. Now let us show you how it was done in the War of the Wrath.

*******

Saeran stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the ruin of what had been his fortress only a short two years before.

He’d expended a century building a domain worthy of him, a monument to his former stronghold of Bara-dur. Eru’s final reconfiguration of Arda had crushed Ephel Duath and Mount Doom upon each other, whilst folding the Plateau of Gorgoroth and the ruins of Bara-dur between them. The land of Mordor was heaved and torn apart, shaped into what was now the Carpathian Mountains and the regions of Transylvania. Yet neither difference of name or time could alter what this place had been, what power he had over it. His evil had lingered and he tyrants who came after him was a testament to his legacy upon the world.

For a hundred years, it had required workmen and artisans to resurrect his fortress again. For the first half of those hundred years, much of the work had been done by hand and in the latter half, machinery had been used to finalise the construction. Now that he stood here, with the world quaking at his touch, his Nazgul fully restored, leading his armies and agents to the end of all things, he knew he would need no assistance in rebuilding Bara-dur.

This time, Melkor’s power serve well enough.

Eve had never wanted to come back to this place again. Two years ago, they had fought David Saeran here and believed him defeated. However, victory like all things, was fleeting and now she stood by him on the ragged edge of the cliff, looking down into the crevasse where his fortress had crumbled after she and Bryan Miller had blown the place apart. Behind her, the dragon Anacalgon and Morgul, waited patiently for their master to act.

She had listened to Morgul explain that Dwaw and Khamul, the other Nazgul had crossed the Pacific and were now in the United States. The possibilities for destruction they could cause there, terrified Eve.

For now, she had to remain silent. She had to play the part of the broken victim because she knew Aaron and the others were coming. She had to stall Saeran and not give him an excuse to harm her or the baby any more than he had. As she thought of the child whose presence she could feel even more acutely now, her arm itself wrapped around her swollen body. The effect of the baby’s accelerated growth now meant that Eve was in constant discomfort and she did her best to endure it silently. She could feel cramps in her lower abdomen and feel the muscles of her belly tightened involuntarily but none of these, she showed Saeran.

Eve had no intention of showing the bastard any weakness.

At present, Saeran was more interested in what lay in the bottom of the crevasse. He looked thoughtful as if he could seen the ruins of his fortress in the darkness below. However, it was not the most recent incarnation of his domain that he envisaged. No, he had a grander design in mind. Closing his eyes, he spread out his arms, like a dark god gesturing his minions to come forward. As he did so, the ground beneath them began to rumble, though no one except Eve appeared to be surprised by this.

A cloud of dust rose from the fissure as if the earth had held a breath and was now expelling into the air. Eve dropped to her hands and knees, unable to maintain her balance as the tremors grew more and more violent. Heart pounding, she felt the tightening in her muscles and knew the baby must be feeling her fear. Forcing herself to regain her composure, Eve could only gape when she a jagged tip of obsidian appeared over the edge of the cliff and then continued its ascent towards the sky.

As it emerged, smaller pieces began to fall away from the larger formation, creating more clouds of dust that her coughing harder and causing the pain in her body to become even sharper. The intensity of her pain increased proportionately with the forces Saeran was manipulating as he continued to sculpt his latest creation. The obsidian rock began to take shape and Eve’s breath caught when she realised what it was he was building. She had seen the pictures of this forming structure once before. In the libraries of Tirion, where those who remembered it, had put to paper the images of Mordor.

Terraced around the base of the structure in several ascending tiers, the structured tapered into a tower that stood so high, Eve was certain it would have dwarfed anything in the modern world. The top of the spire split into two prongs, not unlike the forked tongue of a serpent. When it was done and capturing the sunlight against its dull surface, the black against the blue sky looked like a tear in the fabric of the world.

Once again, the dark tower of Bara-dur was in the world of men.

“Home,” Eve heard Morgul hiss with the closest the wraith come to emotion.

Once Sauron had torn this former king who had been blinded by greed, away form his kingdom, Eve supposed that Bara-dur was indeed home to him and the rest of Nine. However, she made no comment because she was overcome with shaper and sharper pains in her lower abdomen. She could not even stand now that the spectacle was done, forced to remain on her hands and needs, like a dog at her master’s feet.

“Can you smell it?” Saeran turned around and faced them gleefully, oblivious at this point to her pain. “Obsidian made from the solidified lava of Mount Doom,” he announced to them. “Now we are truly home!”

“The female has soiled herself,” Morgul retorted dryly, his words dripping with contempt and disgust.

Had she? Eve thought to herself, aware of moisture running down her legs, humiliated by her weakness not only in front of Saeran but also the Witch King who had made no attempts to hide his confusion at why Saeran was keeping her alive. Eve looked down and saw the fluid puddling on the rocky ground beneath her feet, her thighs slick with damp. It didn’t feel like she had lost control of her bodily functions and yet when she tried to stand upright, a gasp of pain escaped her.

“Really Morgul,” Saeran stared at Eve with a curious expression on his face, “you conquered Angmar, laid waste to Arnor and reigned in darkness at my side for thousands of years. In all that time, did you never encountered a woman about to give birth?”

Eve’s eyes widened in horror at the realisation that he was right. Oh God, her water had just broke.

Her baby was coming now.

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