Tarris stood next to Bantu as they watched the goings on of the camp.

Slaves pulled huge trees into the area of clear ground around the pass. There, Urki soldiers hacked them into beams. Flakes of wood filled the air. Soldiers surrounded the area while Urki overseers whipped the slaves into movement. Argles scavenged the mountains looking for strategically advanced positions. Flames from the make-shift forges glowed, burning the floating wood particles.

"It is going well, I think," Bantu said.

Tarris nodded. "Our warriors are indeed numerous and our plans strong. Those foolish leaders will never reach the fortress."

Bantu turned quickly; hurling a ball of fire that slammed into a boulder, melting it. "You should not have mentioned them. How goes the war against them?"

"They still are missing. We suspect that they are hiding somewhere in the Crocis forest."

"So invade! We did it to the elves, why not the forest of Crocis?"

"We do not invade because it is impossible to find the enemies we believe are holding the suspects. They keep their cities hidden and are impossible to find unless they want to be found."

"Rubbish. Alas, I have no time to deal with them now, but they must be slain before Unisus is taken. They are a dangerous enemy that I wish to deal with." He turned back to the mouth of the pass. "Time is important if the Dark Lord is to rise as planned. Everything must be on schedule."

Tarris bowed his head. "It will be as you wish."

The South lord rose from his throne and sat on the now empty North throne. All the other lords shifted relative to their positions, leaving the east throne empty. The South lord addressed Castor.

"Thank you, king Castor. Adja was indeed powerful, though most had more than one....disagreement with him." The other lords nodded. "As for the now empty East throne, we will find a suitable occupier for it. To address your concern for this rising of Morgorath, I am not sure I agree with you accusations. They are indeed quite extreme."

Ilvnag stepped forward. "Oh new North lord, I assure you, I too have felt the powers of magic rising."

The North lord nodded. "And I trust you, General. We too," He said gesturing to the elders, "have felt great disturbances in the forces of magic. For this reason I will give you fifty of my soldiers, including twelve shamans."

Theuses glared. "We care not for your warriors, Night elf."

Castor wanted to scream at him to be quiet, but held his tongue. The North lord seemed to see the reason for the refusal. "Lord Theuses. You are a Forest elf and from the line of Mithrel?"

"I am," He answered through clenched teeth.

The North lord looked grimly down. "Then you have my deepest apologies. My ancestors were rash and foolish to do such a deed as what was done to your bloodline. But, as I can only apologize so much, I must remind you that it was not I, or any of the Night elves that currently dwell, who carried out the deed. You must remember that the Night elves that are currently dwelling in this forest may have made a very different choice."

Theuses's face softened, but still remained rigid. "I understand. We will accept these men, with Castor's approval of course."

"Of course I approve. Thank you, great lord, for your generosity."

"It is nothing. My people have sat idle far too long. We have grown use to letting others fight their own wars. It is time we change." He looked to Theuses. "I know it will never be enough to bind the gap my ancestors created between us, but it is a start."

Theuses looked him in the eye. "Thank you."

L'arch spoke up. "Don't you think, seeing as they are your men, we should discuss what to do next here and now?"

The North lord sat back with a pleased expression. "Indeed. I would greatly appreciate it." He looked to the crowd and they began to disperse. When all the Night elves in the crowd were gone, Castor began.

"We believe the forces of the Empire are trying to hold the Saber Pass long enough to raise Morgorath. Bantu intends to raise the sorcerer because then he will again live as a ruler of much more territory then he does now. He will be given more power and more authority."

"But how does this have to do with the elves?"

"He sent forces of Argles into Valdraermisr to keep the elves at bay and to send them a message: they are not as strong as they once were. They attacked Ilesmatr and killed king Elrin."

The North lord's eyebrows knitted together. "They must be very powerful indeed to deal such a blow."

"They are. Much more powerful than anyone knew. They have been making deals with the Urki and Argles. It is not their forces that are carrying out these attacks, but the races of the mountains. The Urki have not yet been used in battle, but they are preparing for something big. There has been much action at the mouth of the Saber Pass, but no one can figure out what."

"Many of my scouts have been lost trying to breach that pass. We still have no idea what is going on there. I did receive word, however, that there have been huge groups of work forces and slaves brought from nearby cities."

"They are probably building defenses for the attack." Theuses mused.

"It's possible. Still... If you want to take that fortress you will need thousands. My men in the area have said almost ten thousand are stationed there."

"Where did the men from the invasion go?" L'arch asked. "There must have been at least thirty-thousand to occupy all of Valdraermisr. Even with ten-thousand in the pass, twenty-thousand soldiers can't just vanish into thin air."

"They probably have sent some to the imperial cities and some to Ilmara. I imagine they will not let the dwarves sit in peace for long." The North lord commented.

"What of the dwarves? Have you had any contact with them?" Castor asked.

"No. I wish I could, though. They have mighty forces that could be of great use. Their stores of precious metals and jewels would also be of great use. Would it be possible to send a message to them?"

Castor shook his head. "We are short on time as it is. A detour to Ilmara would take far too long."

"Castor's right," Theuses said in agreement. "We must go straight to the pass. Every second we spend elsewhere, our enemies grow stronger."

The North lord stood from his throne. "Then I am sorry to say, grave word reached this place only shortly after you were brought here. The great king of the Argles, Tarnagh, is almost free. His minions and minions of the Empire have been working day and night trying to destroy his bonds. Fearior is also being freed. His chains are stronger, but I would say that by a week's time they will be free. From there, I assume they will go straight to the pass and assist with their master's awakening."

"I keep hearing of them being freed from their bonds, but where are they imprisoned?" Castor asked.

Theuses turned to him. "The great Pyromancer is locked beneath one of the major peaks in Ilmara. There is no way we can prevent both his raising and that of Morgorath. Tarnagh, on the other hand, is locked in the great peak that stands on the outskirts of the city Argonil. If we get there in time, we may be able to stop him."

"Just keep in mind," The North lord warned, "that both Tarnagh and Fearior are immortal. They cannot be killed."

Castor stepped back in disbelief. "Immortal? That's possible?"

"Oh yes. But it takes the strongest of magicians and the most daring gambler to do it. To become immortal you must be willing to give up a part of yourself; literally kill part of you to become immortal. This part of you will hold the others to life even when dealt fatal wounds. But the magic to cast such a spell is not only forbidden, but is deathly dangerous. If cast wrong or even making such a mistake as to stumble with the wording....Well, there are things worse than death."

A trickle of ice ran down Castor's back. To kill himself - even a part of him - to make himself immortal was a great sacrifice he did not think he could ever make. "So they've done this? Made themselves immortal?"

"No, at least, not by their power. When they swore themselves to Morgorath, he recognized their strength. He made them his generals and gave them immortality."

"So if Morgorath has the power to make others immortal, he too is immortal?"

"We do not know for sure. Once in combat, the dwarf lord, Gaunther, dealt him a horrible blow with a dwarf war hammer named Narium. Morgorath fled; giving the appearance he was afraid of death or at least pain. Later, however, he was seen without any sign of wounds. A wound as bad as an exact strike with a dwarf war hammer should have killed him on the spot. On the other hand, it is possible he is simply difficult to kill or he has made himself immortal."

"Where is this lord Gaunther now?"

"Though dwarves do not live as long as elves, he is currently the king of the dwarf realm. You will find him in Voelnguard, the dwarf capital."

"He must be hundreds of years old!"

"Yes. I believe his years number more than two-hundred. Regardless of his age, he is a fierce king and not one to be toyed with."

"Wait. If Morgorath isn't necessarily immortal, why didn't you kill him when you invaded his fortress?"

"The Urki were breaking into the throne room," Theuses explained. "We had only seconds. If we tried to kill him, but he was immortal, we would have been overrun. If we imprisoned him, we could take care of him later and deal with the threat that opposed us in the immediate future."

Castor nodded, seeing the wisdom in this. If they had tried to take care of the Urki instead, they easily could have been killed before they could do anything about Morgorath. "Still. What if we go through all this trouble and when we try to kill him, it turns out we can't?"

"Where in the plan does it say we have to kill him?" L'arch asked. "All we have to do is keep him from rising and maybe strengthen his prison's spells. That alone will be difficult enough to keep us busy."

A warrior ran into the area of the thrones. He barely stopped for a minute to note the empty eastern chair. "My lord! A scout that you sent to the Saber Pass has returned."

The North lord stood. "Have him come to us immediately. I must speak to him."

The warrior hesitated. "That will be difficult my lord."

The North lord's eyebrow rose. "And why is that?"

"I think you should see this."

The warrior led the way through the city toward the place where the two trees marked the entrance to the city. At its base, two shamans stood over a Night elf.

The Night elf that lie on the ground was similarly painted, though in more of a camouflage patter. A broken spear lie next to him and the grass surrounding him was stained scarlet. Three arrows stuck out from his chest and a long, thin gash went from his left arm down to his wrist. HIs paint was stained with dried blood. The North lord pushed away the chanting shamans. The elf's breath came in short, ragged breaths.

His face was gaunt with pain. "Sir..."

"What happened? Who did this to you?"

"I... I... I was sent out to the Saber Pass like you said... They-," He coughed vigorously; spewing blood. "It's huge sir. It's huge. They have impossible numbers that grows daily. They are building something.... It's huge."

"What is? What's huge? Speak!" The North lord shouted.

"The dam. They plan to kill.... Kill us all.... Thousands of soldiers. " He looked at the North lord with fear-filled eyes. "You will never beat them sir. I-," He gasped for breath again. "I am sorry." The scout's eyes glazed over and he stopped breathing. The North lord stood up wearily. "Take this man to away. He will be given a hero's burial." The two shamans nodded quickly and picked up the body. Moments later they were gone.

//assetBԟ