New Dawn Rising

Chapter 1 - A Break in the Darkness

“My sun sets to rise again.” Robert Browning

An hour later, the rebel forces had broken camp and saddled their horses. The company now stood at the ready about half a mile from the Black Gate. Raven had taken her coven, the Order of Shadows, to the front of the lines. Twelve ladies, each well-versed in the Dark Arts, sat atop their horses, their black cloaks making them seem like the fabled Nazgul of old.
Raven rode to the front of the line to meet Halden and Phoenix. Her horse, a fierce gelding named Wild Rage, tossed her black mane back and forth while Raven dismounted and moved it situate her weapons. She held a black staff with the last palantir on top and placed her silver sword into her sheath. Speaking soothing words to her unpredictable stallion, Raven placed Rage’s saddle over her snowy-white coat. Once she was convinced her horse wouldn’t run away, she started walking to where Halden and Phoenix stood.
“I swear, this horse gets more crazy the closer we get to Mordor,” Raven said as she began to weave white feathers into the horse’s ebony mane, signaling him as the Matriarch’s steed.
“That’s because he knows he coming home,” Phoenix replied as she re-sheathed her twin knives. She then moved to saddle her own steed. Phoenix’s horse was perhaps even more volatile then Rage. horshorse had been a gift her from Sauron during her 500 year apprenticeship with him. It was tall, black, fierce-looking warhorse that used to be the steed of the great Witch King of Angmar. Tempest, as he was so poignantly called, was rumored to be the king of the Maeras. He could only be ridden by Phoenix and had killed many of the enemy with his monstrous hooves. Ironically, the horse only let Raven and Halden touch him. Phoenix thought that might be because he was the sire of Wild Rage and Halden’s mare, Moon Dancer, was his mate.
When she finished tying the saddle, Tempest kneeled before Phoenix, allowing her to mount his eighteen hand frame. She then turned to face Raven and Halden, each who now sat atop their own horses. All were dressed in their “war garb” as Raven so eloquently called the clothes they wore into battle. Raven wore a jagged black skirt with a white tunic. Her black boots ended just below her knee. Over her white tunic, she wore a black breastplate, white feathers intricately designed across the chest. A white feather was woven into her pleated ebony hair, siyingying her status as Matriarch. Halden had his brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his head partially covered by a silver helmet that allowed her to only see his bright green eyes. He was clad in the colors of his people; brown boots, white tunic and tan breeches with a gray breastplate bearing the sign of the Haradirrim. His horse wore a silver armor over her back and upper torso.
Phoenix looked down at her own garments. Her stallion bore a white armor across his front and back. She herself wore a black helmet that covered her chin-length, golden-brown hair. Phoenix wore her usual tan boots, black breeches and white tunic. Over her tunic, she wore a black breastplate with the infamous White Tree of Gondor across the front. Her twin knives were attached tr bar back and she held her long staff in her left hand. Around her neck she wore the only material item that held any value to her; a smooth, pale blue stone surrounded by a five small leaves. One for each century we were held captive she thought, her mind wandering briefly back to the one time in her life she had ever been happy; her month stay with her lover and mate in Harbourtown.
All of a sudden, the all-to-familiar vibrations of the legions of the Black Company resonated on the ground beneath them. Phoenix nodded to Raven, who in turn took off towards her coven. She nodded to Halden and the two rode to the front of their company.
“As I am sure Commander Halden has informed you, there will be a slight change in our battle plans this morning. Last night, Halden and his men found leg legendary shards of Narsil and the Evenstar pendant. Such links to our past have allowed the Matriarch Raven and I the ability to conjure the Evermore spell. For those that are unfamiliar with this magic, the Evermore spell is a form of black magic that allows the caster to send herself and others back to a critical part of history. We have been unable to do so before this because we had no remnants from so long ago. Now, we are able to. The Order of Shadows shall cast the spell and this will send us all back to the very day when the Reign of Night began,” Phoenix explained to her company. A rush of whispers and murmurs went up from her army, the air thick with speculation.
Just as Phoenix moved to assure her company that they need not fear the spell, Halden in front of her and blew his horn. Once he had his army’s attention, he spoke in a solemn voice, “I realize that what we ask of you requires the most basic show of loyalty; trust. But remember that our Queen has never lead us astray before. This magic we use may be dark, but the intent is pure. Trust in yourselves and those around you to break the chains that bind us. Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of overcoming it.”
Once Halden gave his speech, a cry erupted from the army; a collection of voices daring to rally against the perpetual darkness. Phoenix nudged her horse over to Halden andsperspered, “Do you believe those falsehoods you just fed them?”
Halden turned to his superior and his life-long friend. With all the eloquence of his regal upbringing, he replied, “There is no failure except in no longer trying. I will have my army fighting until their last breath, trying until the very end. They do this only because they know you do the same. Will you back out now or die standing?”
Pushing her black cloak back from her head, Phoenix kicked Tempest on the sides and the large warhorse reared up with a whine. Phoenix then drew her sword out from its sheath, its glow blinding, and cried, “Behold, the sword of my ancestors. That which was broken is now restored. We ride for glory and for the new dawn. Should you fall this morn, know you die with the honor of your people and that you stayed not in shadows.” Phoenix then took off down the field towards the opening Black Gate. She and Tempest were a flash of black against the darkened dawn. The only light that showed where they rode was the flash from the re-forged sword, glistening high above her head. Halden thought she looked like one of the mythical female warriors, the Amazon; her sword drawn, her eyes gleaming with battle lust as she plunged head-on into battle. He had never been more proud to serve under anyone.
Halden quickly drew his own sword, signaling Raven and her coven to take off down the plain after Phoenix. They looked like the legendary Wraiths; shadows racing across the backdrop of the black sky, the need for battle singing in their blood. He then turned to his company, blew the horn of the Haradirrim and a symphony of hoof beats and war cries heralded his army’s charge. As Halden road down with them, he thought back to poem his father used to read to him: Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves, and Immortality.
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By the time Phoenix had made it down the plain, Sauron and his legions of orcs, Uruk-hai and mercenaries stood within the opened Black Gate. Her army and Raven’s coven stopped about thirty feet behind her. Phoenix rode to the middle of the ground bordered by both armies; her old mentor rode out to meet her.
“I see this is our battle for the decade, my Darkstar. I wonder if this one will be as victorious as the one before,” Sauron said sarcastically as he circled Phoenix on his black steed. Even though his physical body had been gained with the acquiring of the One Ring, Sauron refused to take off his impenetrable army. It was customary before each battle led by Phoenix and Sauron that each rode out to bait and annoy the other. And each time, the conversation always took the same turn.
“I will offer the same olive branch that I give to you each time we play this game of cat-and-mouse, my daughter. Come and rejoin me and I will spare the lives of those close to you. Defy me again and I will not be so kind as when I took the life of your lover,” Sauron said, all sarcasm gone from his voice.
“You were never kind when you killed my lover. By the time I saw him, he wasn’t even recognizable,” Phoenix retorted, anger flashing in her black eyes as she rode right up to the side of her old mentor, “and you may never call me daughter. That is not a right of the very beast that bares the blood of my parents and family on his hands. And I will give you the same answer I give you each time we engage in this tiresome conversation; I would rather walk this earth for an eternity with no hope of death then serve under you again.”
“I think that can be arranged, daughter of mine,” Sauron cried, his black sword drawn in the blink of an eye.
“Not while you’re still breathing, dearest father. The curse binds me to you till your death. My immortality for your longevity,” Phoenix said morbidly as she backed Tempest away from Sauron, “and today looks like a good day to die.”
Before it could register with Sauron, Phoenix had drawn the sword of her father; the sword of her ancestors. While it finally dawned on Sauron what sword Phoenix held in her hand, the young queen yelled into the blackened dawn, “Rae, now.”
Sauron turned to the direction of Phoenix’s voice and unconsciously trembled at the sight before him. The Order of Shadows, led by Raven, stood lined at the front of the rebel company. Raven had dismounted from Wild Rage and raised her scepter towards the black sky. He could make out snippets of words she and her coven were chanting, but the meaning was lost to him. They were the words of long-day language; one lost to the sands of time. But the gathering force of the wind and the dark clouds swirling above the witches told him it could only spell trouble for him and his army.
He turned to Phoenix and saw she too was chanting the words. Her helmet had fallen to the ground and her long staff was drawn in one hand, the sword in the other. If it was one thing that Sauron regretted most during his reign, it was teaching Phoenix all he knew about the dark arts. It had soon become evident that she not only was adept at magic, but born to wield it.
Realizing the possible danger he might be in, Sauron called for his company to attack. But his call came too late. Before Sauron and his company knew what happened, a silver light began to grow around the rebel forces. Sauron looked to the source and found that the shining light was coming from Phoenix. An eerie light as coming from her weapons while a black glow began to shine in her dark eyes. The winds picked up as the chanting from the witches began to grow in pace. A cacophony of voices suddenly assaulted Sauron’s ears and those of his company. He flinched and turned his head away from Phoenix. But he could still see her soulless eyes in his head. They were swirling pools of darkness, empty and devoid of any emotion save one; pure, unadulterated hate.
Suddenly, the dissonance of voices rising on the wind reached its crescendo and the world around Sauron erupted in a blinding light. Its luminosity caused him to involuntarily shut his eyes to its brightness. Before the light and voices faded around him, Sauron and his company heard a voice thick with emotion whisper a single phrase in their heads; Never contend with someone who has nothing to lose. Then the world went black.

1 quote by Helen Keller.
2 quote by Elbert Hubbard.
3 from a poem by Emily Dickinson.