BW XXV - Milai
Milai saw the face of a high elf – long, distinguished, slightly effeminate yet with intensity uncommon in normal folk. His green eyes burned with passion whilst, brow furrowed, his mouth’s tight lips were drawn in speech, revealing neat rows of sharp teeth, “No we will not withdraw! Where will we go? Our ranks are swelled by those once subservient to the dead oriental and Sutur is, once again, ripe for the taking. Our supposed enemy is doing the job for us! We must seize upon these opportunities. Bring Okashi Hatamoru before me; we need to discuss tactics.”
A young elf bowed and left his master’s presence, leaving the burning eyes to turn their attention to the orb that was placed on a tree stump in the centre of the small clearing in which the elves had stood. As Milai watched, the orb briefly glowed purple before turning very dark.
A female’s voice came from within, “Yes, Dronan? Feeling isolated? Backed the wrong side? Do you now turn to me in your hour of need? Well, my price has increased. I no longer require you to merely deliver Elerienne to me, I need you to find and destroy this new White Counsel. Those that managed to return Guerin to his resting place.”
Milai’s eyes were drawn into the orb, where she saw a very different-looking Drow Queen. Gone was her obvious darkness, instead there was a more recognisable beauty and innocence, clearly designed to appeal to one susceptible to her very persuasive charms.
“Yes my Lady, but to accomplish this task, I will need your help. I need sufficient Drow to take and hold Sutur and crush those of my folk ignorant enough not to heed my counsel. I understand Elerienne moves East into your waiting arms no doubt…”
“You may have those that remained after Helfellion. They are determined enough to take revenge. But one of my own will accompany you – she has her own reasons to destroy these upstarts.” The voice of Inwe was strong and deliberate but Milai was struck by the fact that the commands she issued were reactive, not premeditated. Clearly Guerin’s removal from the Prime had unbalanced the enemy. Who was this female that Inwe would throw into Sutur and what would she do? Monitor Dronan no doubt, but what else?
Second Dream
Milai’s dreams were troubled by storms and tempest. Stood behind a beast, twelve feet in height and nearly as broad, whose dark grey skin was partly clad in tough leather britches and a hauberk of chain, pierced by great evil-looking spikes, Milai kept her balance on the lurching deck of a warship. The creature’s hideous face turned from side to side as it sniffed the wind expecting the air to reveal its secret movements; broad nostrils were set over a wide, drooling gape from which emerged huge, discoloured tusks and a black tongue. Covering its head was a huge helm, adorned with all manner of spikes and horns, and from which a guard descended, covering what could be seen of the bridge of the creature’s nose. To the Beast’s right, also examining the wind, was a Drow that Milai had seen before: her captor, Magreb. Stocky, though a little shorter than the average Drow, he exudes masculinity despite his relative youth. He smells of the sea and has the darker skin of those Drow that are used to long voyages. His hair is long, wavy and deep navy blue. Armed with the usual long and short swords, Magreb’s are curved at the end. He wears Brigandine of deep blue and green, weaved in a fluid pattern and studded with emeralds, sapphires, tourmaline and diamonds. The only lamé (strip of metal) visible is his Gorget which extends to protect his sternum, his clavicle and the front and back of his neck. The Gorget is rolled and patterned to represent a wave just before it breaks. He carries a Bassinet under his left arm, open at the face and bedecked with long flight-feathers of rare sea birds.
“There!”, Magreb called above the noise of the waves smashing against the ship and the wind renting at the sails, “Three points to starboard!” he pointed with his sword arm.
“Urg,” the beast acknowledged and turned the heavy wheel in front of him effortlessly before continuing, “Care is needed, Lord, Hatori’s kind are…difficult.”
“I know,” Magreb’s response was dismissive, “just don’t ram it, otherwise we will all be spending much more time in their company than either of us would relish.”
The ship veered slightly into wind and the bow dropped as it crested a gigantic wave. Milai heard the shouts of the crew who struggled to keep the vessel upright, let along pointing in the right direction. Anchors were thrown, sails were roped in and the vessel again lurched, caught between the competing efforts of the sea and the wind – neither quite managing to drive her under. Briefly raised high by an enormous swell, Milai could see the great creature that rose from the depths. With the head, neck and carapace of an enormous snapping turtle, it’s huge fore-limbs were partly crab and partly humanoid. Its torso was a writhing maelstrom from which emerged flailing tentacles, longer than the ship itself. As it raised itself from the water, towering above the vessel, it pulled itself through the water and alarming speed.
“Hail, Cetus, what news of your Lord’s will?” Magreb shouted in the ancient language of the sea, which Milai had not heard for a very long time, whilst leaning over the side and holding tightly to the rigging.
The booming reply was a mixture of a howling gale and a thunderous ocean hell-bent on destruction, “He has agreed to the terms! Fail him at your peril!”
“I will not fail Cetus! It will not be long now before the mighty Hatori has the Sea Witch in his grasp.” Magreb’s voice was confident enough, even if he looked anything but.
“You promised this once before, and even the great Tun Mi Lung could not hold her! Enter this bargain at your peril, Magreb, he will not suffer your failings a second time!”
Third dream
A young man Milai recognized as Perion crept along thick ice, bent low to protect himself from the wind and snow, which smashed into his handsome face and tugged at his tightly drawn ermine cloak, exposing the studded leather armour beneath. His normally unkempt, thick blonde hair was constrained by his hood, which he held over his head with his left hand. Leaning heavily on a staff with his right, Perion’s progress across the burning white abyss was slow. With him were a handful of similarly clad men, all bent against the blizzard.
“We have not seen her minions for five days now Lord,” screamed one of them closest to their King struggling to be heard above the howling maelstrom.
“I know, but the serpent has come this way, look!” Perion shouted, briefly raising his staff to point at rift in the ice to his right that ran away in front of him into the white-grey soup that was the air that surrounded them.
The man stopped, dumbfounded at his leader’s lack of sense, “All the more reason to go back: if it catches us here, we will all be in its belly quick enough.”
“Do not fear Brayfing, it will not be looking for us and even a great wyrm has need of a home in which to keep warm and rest. No, we are close to Morgrad – I can sense it.” Perion began to move again and, summoning up what was left of his strength, called to his party to follow him.
Suddenly, as Milai watched, Perion and his closest followers disappeared through the ice, which let out a huge crack as it swallowed them up.
From the Palantir…(If it is used)
“The outer gate will be open as soon as your forces disembark. The Harbour is barely defended and the streets are wide enough for the largest of engines. My men will occupy the Barbican once we have taken care of the infiltrators within our midst. You would wish to be aware that it is possible many escaped the Demon in Efforendil and now threaten your land forces from the North. We also witnessed the arrival of some strange ships on which were embarked leaders of those who would not welcome your intervention. At their head was Milai, who was accompanied by the Ring bearer and the self-proclaimed new Lastar. Rumours also abound that the Norse Gods show support to those foolish enough to oppose you, summoned no doubt by their High Priest.”
“Do not worry my child, for their love of one they hold dear has ensured that they have become embroiled on a fool’s errand. Are their ships still at anchor?”
“No my Queen, they left not long after Milai, although I would not expect them to be far away. The three vessels that the elves built have also slipped anchor, though my sources have yet to report their position.”