Chapter Seventeen
Nazgul
FRANCIS E WARREN AIR FORCE BASE
CHEYENNE, WYOMING, USA
He’d left Washington on the first flight available and was in Cheyenne, Wyoming in less than six hours. It would be at least seven hours after his arrival in that city before the Joint Chiefs at the Pentagon realised he would not be attending their scheduled meeting. However, if everything went according to plan, they would notice his absence well before that.
Then his fate would be in the hands of history. Would they call him madman or martyr? Before they decided that what he had done for the good of all, his actions might even be considered sedition. Whatever the lawmakers chose to call him, General Dennis Etherton could not say. He did not expect to survive the day to hear their final conclusions. After he carried out his plan, he intended leaving his life on his own terms. For king and country, he had sacrificed his family and his relationship. For his final act of service to the flag he so revered, Dennis did not intend on being the star attraction at Leavenworth.
The voices that had started speaking to him in the office with the Joint Chiefs had become a constant now. So much so that he no longer questioned his sanity. Sometimes they felt so real, he thought he could feel their breath against the back of his neck when they spoke. At other times, when he thought he was tired or perhaps losing grip with reality in more ways than he knew, he felt that they were in the room with him, as if they were guiding him with voices spoken from unseen lips.
In the end, he put it down to his conscience taking on a life of its own, no longer willing to wait in the recesses of his mind, to be beaten into silence by practicality of the situation or duty to men who did not always have the right answers. And nothing the voices were saying seemed unreasonable. The actions of the moment demanded this level of response. It wasn’t like they were telling him to hijack a plane or dose the water supply with some terrible pathogen for the sake of a God.
Despite how terrible the action he needed to undertake; Dennis knew he was doing the right thing.
Europe was falling to an enemy they had never seen before. It would only be a matter of time before it spread to Asia and then the rest of the world. The continent was on the brink of all out chaos. Armies were succumbing to mysterious powers, cities were being burned and creatures of mythological origin were emerging from every forgotten crevice in the world. Where they appeared, civilian casualties usually followed.
When they arrived on American soil, all Dennis could think was they’d find a population rich and fat for the feasting. It would only take a hop, skip and jump for everyday citizens to start turning on each other.
Thanks to the 2nd Amendment, it would become a blood bath.
And yet when he’d left the Joint Chiefs, they’d reached no decision as to what was to be done. All they did have was platitudes and assurances to each other that it was better to wait and see. After all, the trouble had not reached US soil yet and there was still time to gather more data and come up with an effective plan later. Who knew, perhaps the Europeans would resolve the crises themselves, without their interference?
To Dennis, it was the war cry of the inept.
*****
After leaving Cheyenne Regional Airport, he drove to the base in a rented car, foregoing the option of military chauffeur since he was trying to keep his visit low key. Visit from the brass usually came with paperwork submitted days before the event and Dennis had none of these. As it was, he expected questions form the base commander when he did finally arrive on the premises.
Officially known as the Francis E Warren Air Force Base, the facility had been established in 1867 when the new railroad required a military presence to protect its workers against hostile Indians. From a frontier infantry station, it had evolved over the last century to become one of the most important military centres in the country. In 1967, it had become the first fully operational ICMB launch base and was now home to the 90th Missile Wing and 150 Minuteman III ICBMs.
The base had become the main source of income for Cheyenne’s population of 50’000 people. The town had originally grown up around the facility but as industry and other commercial enterprises developed in response to the increased population. It did not take much before this urban sprawl took with it new neighbourhoods and crawled away to establish a new central hub.
Besides, no one wanted to live near nuclear missiles.
Dennis had little regard for Cheyenne beyond what he needed to do here. To him, it was like so many other cities that had been elevated from Podunk because of a military presence. It didn't look like a city to Dennis, certainly not in the way Washington was a city. The skyline looked bland with very few structures that stood above four storeys high. There was no vast network of roads, overpasses and freeways, just a number of multi-lane roads with lethargic levels of traffic travelling along them. The backdrop was devoid of mountains or hills, none of that purple mountain majesty that America was famed, just a flat plain that seemed to run endless into infinitum.
It didn’t take him long to get to the base once he’d gotten on the I-25. Fifteen minutes of steady travel and he was ready to take the turn- off onto Missile Drive and then Happy Jack Road. From where he was, he could see the tip of a missile protruding from the facility. A showpiece, he realised, one for the tourists to snap pictures at so they could tell the folks at home they’d seen a real life ICBM. The live missiles were in their bunkers, waiting for the launch codes that would send them on their way.
Launch codes that he had.
As he approached the masonry arch that stood over the road leading to the main sentry gate to the base, he saw the facility ahead and felt a moment of anxiety creep into his thoughts, infecting him with uncertainty that had not been there before. He could feel Walter’s ring against his skin, the smooth metal making him very aware of its presence. It just didn’t feel right, he thought subconsciously but brushed the thought away as being foolish. It was a ring. It wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
Was he doing the right thing? Was he absolutely sure there was no other way? On the surface, it seemed like he was but the more he thought about it, the more it felt…wrong.
Do not fear your destiny, the voice started speaking again. Do not suffer the weakness that your comrades have allowed to infect them. There is no time to hesitate. Do what must be done or watch your nation die.
Dennis shuddered, feeling the chill in the air that had nothing to do with the air-conditioning being raised too high. He felt it on his flesh, until his skin puckered with goose pimples. For a moment, he almost looked over his shoulder but then told himself he was being stupid. It was just nerves. What he was about to do would ensure his name in history, either as a hero or a mass murderer. A little anxiety was normal.
With that reasoning behind him, the moment of indecision passed as the nose of his rented car reached the tall, imposing iron gates that barred the outside world from the premises of the air base. A tall, All-American type with a regulation buzz cut, broad shoulders and squared jaw approach the driver’s side window. His posture was relaxed until Dennis wound down the window and the young man saw the number of stars on the epaulettes of his uniform.
“General Sir!” the young man straightened up immediately and declared with a sharp salute laced with a hint of a good ol’ boy Arkansas accent.
“At ease soldier,” Dennis offered coolly, “I’m here to see Commander Latimer. Please tell him that General Etherton is here from Washington.” He handed the kid his credentials through the window just to keep things in accordance with protocol.
“Yes Sir,” the soldier returned quickly, having studied the General’s identification, including the levels of clearance attached to it, before handing the document back to Dennis. “I’ll let him know you’re coming. His office is through that road over there. We call it the Hub, you can't miss it." He added helpfully.
A few seconds later, Dennis left the young man behind as he drove past the gates into the base. Commander Latimer would be rushing about now, readying his office for the General's arrival. Perhaps even rouse the troops for a snap inspection, there was no telling what an anxious base commander might resort to impress the visiting brass. Dennis knew it would take several minutes for the base personnel to realise that he wasn’t going anywhere a visiting general should be.
By the time they realised what he was here for, it would be too late.
******
The lack of clothing made Dwaw uncomfortable.
The Nazgul had faded into shadow so long ago that by the Third Age, they could not be perceived by anyone save each other and their master. The dark robes they wore were illusions of self that serve a multitude of purposes, not always for their benefit. It reminded them that they still creatures of form even though they sometimes forgot and when confronting their enemies, the sight of them or rather lack of it could strike cold terror into the hearts of the men and elves. Many had been reduced to madness realising beneath the dark robes of the Nazgul was nothing.
The age of shadow.
*********
The flight to Saeran's stronghold was meant to take less than an hour but they saw it well before that.
The structure stood against the backdrop of the ever greying sky. Clouds were being drawn to it like a vortex draining all the light in the world. It emerged from the range of mountains as if someone had reached into the earth and tore out its innards, stretching the dirt flesh as far as it would go. The tall line of obsidian impacted against the mind like a scream given form, clawing at the sky in desperate agony. It stood as an affront to all things good, a shadow cast in the memory of the ancient monument upon whose ruins it stood.
Even from a distance, they could see jagged windows that looked like mouths scowling angrily at them for daring to approach. Balconies protruded like perches for carrion birds to roost in waiting for the battle that would be fought at its door step. Waiting for the bodies their sharpened beaks would soon feast upon. The base of the tower was ringed with levels and levels of battlements so impregnable that only a god could have created it.
The shaft of the tower tapered into a platform from which two forked points pierced heavy clouds, pregnant with fat rain, threatening to rupture them at any time. Among them, only Legolas recognised what the tower for was it was and the sight of it sent a cold chill down his spine. It was a sight he had thought he’d never have to see again. It was enough that in Third Age, he’d stood with the King of Gondor facing the great eye of Sauron, breathed in flame, watching over the land of Mordor from a tower that look very similar to the one they were approaching now.
“Six hundred years it took to build Bara-dur,” Legolas mused bitterly as he stared at the structure in the distance, feeling as if he were viewing a memory now the reality of the moment. “Now he rebuilds it in days.”
“Well he’s definitely making a statement,” Eric remarked, eyes filled with the sight of the thing that made the Empire State Building look positively tiny in comparison. “Was it the same size as before?”
“More or less,” Legolas nodded, choosing not to comment on Eric’s observations of Saeran’s need for theatrics. “These were once the mountains of Ephel Duath and the tower sat in the heart of Gorgoroth, where Sauron’s army were camped. The last time I was at this place, I stood with Aragorn, Eomer and the armies of Gondor and Rohan. “
Legolas had lived through the greatest doom of the Third Age and tragedy had been written into the tapestry of his life but he would have changed none of it because of the people he had shared those days with him. There were too many to name but standing out in those list of faces was Aragon, Gandalf, Boromir and of course Gimli, the irascible dwarf who had been his friend despite all enmity between dwarves and elves at the time. "Now we are here again and only Gimli remains unrepresented,” Legolas said mournfully, eyes misting over with emotion, “he would have relished the chance to resume our old game."
Legolas knew that there were reasons for this. It was said that the souls of dwarves did not go to the place prepared for elves nor were they reborn in the flesh like men. Their fate was bound for the deeper places of the world, were they would sleep until they were needed. When the forces of light and darkness were gathered once more to fight the last battle, they would emerge again. However, this was indeed the End of Days then the dwarves appeared to be late in their arrival. Or perhaps, Legolas thought, they knew that time had passed and saw no reason to emerge.
Iluvutar had promised that the Music of Ainur would be sung a second time so that the world could be remade and that the End of Days or Dagor Dagorath would begin the transformation of Arda in something no one could anticipate. Maybe the dwarves knew better than the elves that their time was done and this was their final end.
If this was their end, then Legolas could think of no fitting way to meet it than to face the old enemy once more, with the friends he loved. Legolas regarded Eric who had been Eomer, the King of Mark, who’d turn his grief at losing his friend Jason, formerly a hobbit of the Shire named Merry, into a fierce determination to defeat Sauron at all costs. Eric was glaring at the dark tower in the distance, his brow knotting in barely concealed fury. Legolas understood his outrage for Jason had been a comrade and a friend who thanks Morgoth’s servant was forced to sacrifice his life to save the children of Miranda.
He looked to the others and saw Fred, who held the soul of a ring bearer, lying against Bryan. He was still alive and Aaron’s attendance of him would ensure that he would continue to fight but Legolas suspected and perhaps Aaron and Bryan did as well, that the former Captain of Gondor would not last much beyond that. The thought filled him with sadness. This moment resembled the manner in which they had found Boromir after the warrior had been felled at Parth Galen. It appears in this life too, Bryan was destined to similarly abrupt fate.
Fred’s small arms were wrapped around Bryan’s neck. The child she was clung to the man who was father and protector, knowing in that way that only children knew, that she was about to lose him. Not even the entity sharing her little body could hold back that fear.
*****
Somehow Frank had always known this was how it was going to end between him and his brother.
Kneeling next to Bryan, ignoring Aaron’s ongoing treatment to his injuries; Frank took the sight of his wounded brother and felt himself struck with a sense of déjà vu. There was a sense of inevitability dogging him all his life that Bryan would go first. Frank had expected it a dozen times over the years when Bryan had gone to fight in the various wars during his military career and then after when he’d join MI6. So many times, Frank had expected the worst, expected to get that nondescript telegram that would tell him that Bryan had been killed in action. He’d always thought that would be the worst thing, to not be there when it happened. Now he was here, he realised he was wrong.
“Stop looking at me that way you git,” Bryan retorted, hissing a bit when Aaron tightened a bit of bandaging across his torso. The doctor rolled his eyes but continued working, leaving the two brothers to talk. “I’m not dead yet.”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Frank insisted, shooting an accusing glare at Aaron for enabling Bryan’s desire to remain with them. “You should be in hospital somewhere, getting fixed up properly.”
Bryan was shaking his head before Frank even finished the sentence. “Saeran and I have business with each other. I’m not going anywhere until that’s done.” Bryan’s eyes turned dark. “You understand that don’t you Miranda?”
Miranda was hovering behind Frank, not wanting to intrude but now that she’d been drawn in, she offered Frank an apologetic glance as she slipped her fingers in his and nodded at Bryan. “Yeah Tyke, I got it.”
“Will you do me a favour in case this doesn’t end well,” Bryan asked, grateful for her presence because she was strong enough to be there for Frank if it did go the way he guessed it would. Helping them find each other was perhaps the highlight of his life. He had helped wounded two broken people with that one introduction, Miranda and himself. Bryan had hoped that Miranda after the ordeal of that terrible mission in Ireland, that she might find some comfort in his brother who was always a gentler soul than he but he never imagined how well it would turn out.
“Go on then,” Miranda returned, never one to become mired in sentimentality, “don’t keep me in suspense.”
Bryan cracked a wry grin, grateful for that. Being a mum hadn’t dulled her edge one bit. “Fred needs a home. With a mum who can take care of her. If I’m still about, I’ll look after her but if I’m not, I need to know she'll be alright.”
Fred’s face scrunched up into an expression of sorrow, burying her face in Bryan’s shoulder because she didn’t want to hear any of this. As if reacting to her emotional state, Sam broke away from Pip and crawled alongside of her. When she noted he was there, she turned around and hugged him hard.
“Ring Bearers," Bryan smiled faintly, grateful that no matter what, Fred would never be alone. There were people around her that would look after her even if he was gone.
“She’s family, Bryan, you know that,” Miranda whispered as if there were any question of it, gazing at her son and Fred who were bound together by more than just the past. Their friendship had survived Mordor and then time. Sam would never be happy if Fred wasn't nearby. “I’ll fight for her Tyke, like she was my own. She’ll be safe and when this is done, she’ll be happy again. I promise you.”
“You’re going to be fine,” Frank returned, unable to write his brother off just yet despite all evidence to the contrary. This seemed all too much like a farewell but Frank suspected Bryan was saying this now because it may not be possible later. “You’re always fine.”
He was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.
“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Aaron finally interrupted, unable to tolerate this much longer. “Let’s not write the guy off yet and you,” he looked at Bryan pointedly, “are not dead yet so stop acting like it. We’ve got enough crap to deal with without you going all Alamo on our asses. Lord Voldermort and the Dementors are still out there, he’s still planning to nuke us and somewhere in the Dark Tower is Eve and we need you to get to her! So let’s keep a little optimism here. We've got a lot of work to do”
"Lovely talk," Bryan commented dryly. "Do you think you made enough pop culture references or do you need to mention the Force and Obi-Wan as well?"
"Bite me," Aaron retorted sweetly.
“So I guess that means the Pom will live,” Eric added, smiling a little as he looked the Pom he called friend, who only days ago was a co-conspirator in a beer making scheme, before everything had gone to hell. Like Aaron, he not like the fatalistic direction everyone seemed headed towards and was happy to help diffuse the situation with some levity.
“Yeah, yeah,” Aaron answered before turning his attention back to Bryan and addressing the secret agent directly. “I’ve slowed down the bleeding and loaded you up with all the drugs you can handle including adrenaline and coagulants. It should keep you on your feet but like your brother said, when this is done you still need to get to a hospital. Just try not to overdo it," Aaron warned.
“Good luck with that,” Frank grumbled, knowing full well that Bryan was never one to heed doctor’s orders.
“He’ll leave the heavy lifting to us,” Miranda said assuring him. “Right?” She stared at Bryan with the same look she used to make her children cower with obedience.
“Right,” Bryan rolled his eyes in sarcasm, “the archaeologist, the journalist and the psychiatrist is going to do the heavy lifting." He was teasing of course but there a sliver of concern that his injury would prevent him from keeping them safe. While he trusted everyone present, only Miranda, Legolas and possibly Lori had any real combat experience. Frank, Aaron and Eric had survived because they’d had too and Bryan worried that with whole army of monsters between them and Saeran, they’d would not be as lucky as they had been before.
“Thanks, I’ll try not to take that personal….” He started to say when suddenly, the helicopter banked sharply they were tossed through the cabin like the beads inside a rattle.
“What the fucking hell!” Eric cursed angrily and grabbed onto to when suddenly Lori’s voice was heard shouting from the cockpit.
“Heads up! We’ve got incoming!”
Before any of them could even scramble to the windows to see what it was she was warning them against, they heard it.
The shriek that penetrated the walls of the chopper and cut through their ears sharply, could be heard over the whumping of rotor blades and the loud rumble of engines. Like the wail of some unholy thing being born, the shrill noise forced them to cover their ears in a futile attempt to escape its deafening power. It felt like coals burning hot inside their minds. Its intensity was unlike anything any of them had experience and captured them all in its agonising grip.
The pain had them writhing across the floor of the craft, driven to near madness. Even Sam and Pip were not spared the assault and the two children were forced to endure the same torture as their adult companions. The craft was flying lopsided with some of them sliding across the floor at the steep angle. Lori who was at the controls was in the same state as the others, disrupting her ability to fly the helicopter properly.
Only Fred remained unaffected.
As soon as the others were incapacitated, the little girl left Bryan’s side and climbed unto one of the folded chairs against the wall of the craft. Peering out the window, she saw the helicopter was veering treacherously towards the tops of the craggy mountain range. Her eyes searched the skies until finally she sighted their enemy.
A fraction of a second later, the shrieking ceased abruptly. Only the sounds of the distressed helicopter could be heard as Fred turned to her companions to ensure that they were free of their agony. Satisfied when she saw that they had stopped screaming, she knew they would recover soon enough.
Another sharp jolt from the uncontrolled flight of the helicopter had sent Eric rolling across the floor and hitting the door. The shock of impact shook him out of his disorientation and he shook his head clear to meet her gaze before turning to the cockpit.
"Christ!" Eric exclaimed and stumbled forward, trying to stay on his feet despite the chopper being angled steeply to the left. If Lori was out of it, he’d have to try and fly this thing.
In the meantime, Fred had climbed off her seat after seeing Pip nearby, curled up in a ball, still covering his ears with his hands, crying. She got onto her hands and knees and crawled up to him, tugging at his sleeve when she reached him.
“It’s okay Pip,” she spoke trying to get his attention. “The noise is gone now.” Though secretly, she knew what had caused it had not but she would leave that to Bryan and the others to deal with.
At the sound of Fred’s voice, Sam, who was lying not far away, raised his head to see where she was. Her attempts to speak to his brother provoked Sam’s own brotherly instincts and soon he was crawling towards Pip too. When they found each other, the three children huddled together waiting for the adults to recover themselves. It was not a long wait.
"You three alright?" Frank asked as he scrambled towards his kids and yes, at this moment, he considered Fred his too. Giving Pip a little kiss on the forehead because his youngest was the most frightened, he pulled back and said to Pip, "You have to be brave for me and mum okay?” He said lifting the child onto the seat and fastening the safety belt around him. Something he should have done earlier, Frank chided himself. Determined not to make the same mistake twice, he gestured at Sam and Fred to take their seats so he could repeat the same for them.
“Sam, Fred, you stay with Pip," Frank instructed hastily as he strapped them in, aware that the danger was not yet over. “And don’t look out of the window."
No sooner than he had given them that warning, the helicopter even out his tilted angle, allowing him to regain a steadier footing. Eric must have taken charge of the piloting or Lori had recovered enough to regain control of the craft.
"Remember, stay put,” he gave them a final reminder.
"We will dad," Sam answered, nodding obediently, with Fred and Pip doing the same.
Another sound filled the air at that instant. Unlike the terrible shriek earlier, this one did not paralyse them or render them senseless. However it was no less chilling even if Frank could not immediately discern its origin.
There was no mystery for Legolas. He recognised the flapping of large, powerful wings.
As he moved to the window, he did not know which one of Sauron’s servants was in the sky with them but there was no doubt in his mind that it was indeed Nazgul that had attacked them. What they had experienced earlier could only be one thing; the dreaded Black Breath of the Nazgul. During the battle of Pelennor Fields, Legolas had seen many of the soldiers of Gondor felled in the same manner before the onslaught of orcs cut them to pieces.
The only thing that was a mystery to the elf now was what had driven the Black Breathe away before he and the others could share a similarly grisly fate?
Whatever the reason, Legolas did not question it, grateful only that it had happened. Peering out the window, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the familiar black robes worn by the most loyal of Sauron’s most creatures, the Nazgul. The robes swirled around its wearer like a dark, sinister mist. The Nazgul was being borne aloft by their own servants, the winged beasts of Mordor. It was the wings of this creature that they were hearing around them.
“Nazgul!” Legolas warned the others and almost as if the foul creature knew he had spoken, the Nazgul turned its head towards the elf. Even without a face, Legolas knew that the Nazgul was sneering at him in hatred.
The Nazgul was not about to let them escape yet another attack after the failure of the first. Legolas saw him pull on the reins of his mount with gauntleted hand, forcing the creature’s saurian neck to rear up before driving the beast towards them. Its large body slammed against helicopter, sending the craft jolting violently to its side. Anything that wasn't bolted down on strapped in was sent flying through the air. Himself included.
Flung across the breadth of the helicopter, Legolas crashed into Aaron and they both tumbled haphazardly into Bryan. For a few seconds, all three men were an unruly tangle of limbs but there was a little time to salvage their wounded dignity. The same jolt had flung Miranda against the door and the sudden impact strained the lock to breaking point causing it to snap and swing open.
Latching onto the edge of the open doorway, Miranda was barely able to keep herself from falling through. She was just beginning to pull herself back to safety when the Nazgul attacked again, ramming the chopper in mid-air once. This time, the impact send Miranda tumbling through the doorway.
"MUMMY!" Pip screamed frantically as Miranda fell out.
Arms flailing, Miranda avoided plunging to her death by catching hold of a strut beneath the wing of the chopper.
“Frank! She screamed out as she dangled precariously in mid-air. Her fingers were struggling to maintain her grip as the chopper weaved and swayed, trying to avoid the attack by the winged beasts. Trying not to look down, she still got glimpses of jagged peaks running along the spine of the mountain beneath her. Trying to restrain her horror, she knew if she fell there would be no surviving it.
In answer to his wife's terrified cry of help, Frank practically dove across the floor, skidding to the open doorway, his head sticking out over the edge, searching frantically for Miranda.
“Hold on Mira!” Frank shouted when he saw her, sparing no thought to his own safety as he leaned out, his body half hanging out of the chopper as he struggled to reach her. Gripping the doorway’s edge with one hand as tightly as he could, he extended the other hand as far as it would go. Legolas moved into help, keeping a secure grip of Frank to keep him from tumbling out and when necessary, to add his strength in pulling Miranda back.
Giving Legolas a grateful nod of thanks, Frank slid out even further now that he had the elf's help, his leg dangling over the edge. “Come on luv,” he pleaded Miranda ignoring the screaming protest of pain in his arm. "You can do to it!"
She made an attempt to swing forward and groaned in frustration when their fingers grazed each other for an all too brief second but did not connect.
"Come on Miranda, try again!" He barked, using his brother's tone to urge her to try again. "You're the bloody strongest person I know! Get your arse moving and SHOW those bastards that it will take more than this to do you in! NOW!"
Half assed psychology, Aaron thought as he stood next to Frank, ready to help him pull Miranda in when she was within reach. However, as the psychiatrist saw the determined set of Miranda's jaw and her face frowning with concentration, he knew it would work. Frank Miller knew his wife very well.
Miranda sucked in her breath, Frank's words reminding her that she wasn't this frightened thing waiting rescue, and she could take care of herself. Crushing her fear into submission, she put everything into swinging her body out as far as she could, her arm extended until she could feel the joints in her elbow pushing muscle against bone, reaching for Frank's outstretched hand.
She even ignored the shrill screech of the winged beast that was coming in for another pass and would most likely see her as easy prey. Gritting her teeth, she stretched out as far as she could until she felt his palm slapping against the middle of her forearm.
No sooner than that contact had been made, Frank clenched his hand around her slender arm until it was almost a fist for how tightly he was holding on. “I got you luv!” He exclaimed triumphantly and then yelled, “PULL LEGOLAS!”
Legolas yanked him backwards, his elven strength serving him well as he drew not only Frank backwards, but was now the last link in the chain to return Miranda to safety of the craft. Frank's face turn red with exertion as he held Miranda's weight with one hand, his joints screaming in protest but he would not let go. For the love of his life and the mother of his children, he'd hold until he was torn apart if necessary.
Aaron was standing next to him, poised to grab Miranda as soon as she was near enough. Once she was within reach, he grabbed her other arm and help to pull her the rest of the way into the helicopter. Miranda clambered back into the craft breathlessly, her blond hair tousled wildly across her face, her cheeks stained with tears of relief. No sooner than she had caught her breath, she was in her husband's embrace and for a few seconds, the world was devoid of everything but their exchange of fevered kisses.
“I’ll never let you go,” Frank whispered in her ear as he held her in his arms.
Unfortunately, the tender moment did not last as the Nazgul chose this moment to attack. The winged beast, carrying its master upon its back, flew straight at the open door, determined to pluck its occupants out of the craft if necessary. Legolas wasted no time, drawing out one of his arrows from behind the case slung across his back. Reaching for his bow, he took aim, preparing to shoot the elven blessed arrow into the dark heart of the Nazgul.
Suddenly another screech tore through this air and this one did not come from the creature flying towards him. This one came from behind.
“There’s another
one!”
He heard Aaron yell.
The psychiatrist
had moved to the opposite side of the craft and was peering through the
window. Legolas had only to glance over
his shoulder to see the same ominous shape through the glass.
“They’re trying
flank us so they can drive us into the mountains!” Bryan exclaimed. The MI6 agent was getting to his feet, unable
to endure the inactivity that injury had placed upon him while they people he
cared for were in danger. Wincing visibly, he tried to get to his feet.
“Stay put!” Aaron
ordered and searched the floor of the chopper for their weapons. When the
Nazgul had collided with them, their belongings had been thrown in all
directions and it took him a few seconds to locate one of Bryan’s automatic
machine guns.
“Do not shoot the
Nazgul!” Legolas warned, once he saw Aaron pulling open the door on the other
side of the helicopter. “Your bullets will do little harm. Aim for the beast!”
“Right,” Aaron
nodded and wrapped a bit of cargo netting fastened to the wall around his arm,
so that he could lean out a bit with some measure of protection.
“Make sure you’re
on rapid fire!” Bryan called out as Aaron prepared to take aim. “Even if you
can’t aim, you’ll hit something.”
“OH THANKS A
LOT!” Aaron shouted back and pulled the trigger as the Nazgul and his mount
came at him. The gunfire ripped through
the air, eclipsing the noise of the engines and screeching of the winged
beasts.
Unaccustomed as
he was to handling guns, Aaron knew enough to do as Bryan advised and he
sprayed the air between himself and the Nazgul with bullets. Heeding the advice
of both Bryan and Legolas, he aimed not for the ring wraith but for the
creature carrying it through the air. The creature turned at the sound of the
unfamiliar noise, exposing its side flank. Aaron saw the tears through its
greying mottled hide as the bullets tore through its flesh, spilling black
blood that was swept away by the high velocity winds. The beasts reared its
head and uttered a scream of pain. In fury, it flicked out its tail like a
whip, striking the doorway and driving Aaron backwards.
Meanwhile Legolas
was firing arrow upon arrow at the winged beast on his side of the craft. The
Nazgul which commanded it was one that was expertly capable of avoiding his
arrows and it concerned the elf that the beast did not seem to flying in the
manner that Bryan had thought. While it attempt to collide with them, the
effort seemed like a half measure. The Nazgul had other tools at his disposal
and Legolas found it odd that the wraith had not tried to use the Black Breathe
again. It was not like them to simply yield after one attempt.
Bryan stumbled to
the front of the helicopter, emerging to see that Eric was helping Lori pilot.
These particular Soviet choppers were designed for a crew of three, two pilots
and an engineer. Lori had managed to fly it on her own when it was a straight
trip to Saeran’s fortress but now there were in combat conditions, the presence
of a co-pilot would keep them from crashing.
As he reached
them, he heard her barking orders at him because Eric’s skills were mostly for
flying smaller planes. This was an entirely different kind of piloting.
“When can we
land?” Bryan demanded.
“We’re still
twenty minutes out!” Lori looked over her shoulder. “We can land but it’s going
to be tough on the kids moving through the terrain below. We’ve got nightfall
in a few hours, it will be under ten degrees!”
“We’ve got no
choice!” Bryan retorted, “at least in the ground we can take cover from those
bloody things.”
“That other one,”
Eric noted the Nazgul on their right through the window, swaying back and forth
next to the chopper, trying to keep up with them but not really driving them
like the other one that Aaron was shooting at was doing. “He’s not attacking.
What’s he waiting for?”
******
Having recovered from her ordeal, Miranda had retrieved her gun and hurried
next to the open window where Aaron was. The doctor was doing his best to keep
the winged beast from sticking its long neck through the window with the
barrage of bullets he was firing in its direction but he needed help. Leaving Frank
to ensure the kids were safe, she took up position against opposite him on the
other side of the doorway.
“Thank Christ
you’re here!” Aaron declared. “I keep hitting it but I can’t seem to bring the
goddamn thing down!”
“Keep shooting!”
She ordered and pulled the trigger, adding her fire to his. The barrage of
artillery was deafening, overwhelming all other sounds. Empty shell casing were
swept away by the wind and Miranda heard the click of an empty cartridge from
Aaron’s gun.
“I’ll cover you!”
She shouted over the sound of gunfire and the doctor nodded, retreating back
into the helicopter to find fresh magazines of ammunition. Miranda turned back to the Nazgul who was
unhurt by their weapons but was keeping his creature weaving constantly to avoid
being hurt any more than it was.
Suddenly, she saw
his gauntleted hand tug sharply at the reins. The winged beast, bleeding from
multiple wounds, reared its long neck and then started to flap away from the
chopper, retreating. Miranda’s brow furrowed until she saw the sky around her
become overcast. For a moment, she
thought the clouds had moved in but then there was the sound of beating wings
again and she thought that the Nazgul was approaching from above.
Gazing upwards, that
thought was wiped away by instant terror. Her jaw dropped open and her fingers
froze. She’d seen the images of dragons on the telly attacking London and Paris
but until now, she hadn’t seen one with her own eyes and even if she had, the
one descending upon them was nothing
like those. She knew they were huge but
this was seemed to fill the entire sky with its wings extended outward. Jet
black, it felt as if night had fallen upon the world in an instant. Beneath its immense size, the chopper seemed
insignificant.
She heard its
voice in her head and it’s sounded like the low rumble of thunder. Miranda wondered if the others could hear it
too.
I, Ancalagon the Black, bring you a message. Lord Sauron, welcomes you to Mordor.
