New Dawn Rising

Ch.2 The Sun on the Horizon

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." Martin Luther Kin.
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Though dawn had long since risen over the battle-scarred earth, the black cloak of night still fell over the sky. As the companies of the West marched on towards the gates of Mordor, the sky erupted in a series of light and rain began to fall onto the dying land. Whilst the armies stayed behind, Aragorn rode his steed, Brego, up to the Black Gate and called out to the Dark Lord to show himself. Unbeknownst to him or his army, the Dark Lord had recently taken physical shape with the acquirement of the One Ring.
Behind the Black Gate, Sauron rallied his troops; legions of orcs, Uruk-hai, mercenaries and the men from the North ready to bring a new order to the lands of Middle Earth. Sauron quickly mounted his horse and using the dark magic that now ran through his veins, opened the Black Gate. As the gates opened, he raised both his hands; on the left was the One Ring and in the other were the tattered remains of the Hobbits’ elven cloaks.
The sight that greeted the coies ies of the West would long be committed to myth and legend. An army of beasts, creatures and murderers, as far as the eye could see, stretched to the very bottom of Mt. Doom. Dragons flew overhead, mounted by Wraiths. Wargs and their Orc riders stood at the front of the battle line, eager to unleash the carnage that burned in their blood. And in front of this army from Hell, stood the very devil himself in full-physical form, the Dark Lord Sauron.
In the distant future, bards and storytellers did not mention in their epic retelling of the Battle of Mordor who drew blood first. All they sung and spoke about was the sounds of the clashing of swords, the symphony of hoof boots as both sides rushed the charge and the horror-stricken screams that left the mouths of those on death’s door. What should have been a fair fight had turned into a slaughter.
The companies of the West and the Black armies quickly engaged one another in battle. The dead earth soon became stained with black and red blood as both sides suffered casualties. After what seemed like an eternity when in reality only minutes had passed, the Black armies had surrounded the remnants of the companies of the West. Sauron rode to the front of his line and sat regally above the King who had brought to his knees. His commanders were held at bay by orcs and Uruk-hai who had their weapons pointed towards them.
“It would seem that Fate has decided who will greet the sun tomorrow. Or in this case, if the sun will ever rise again. As valiantly as you fought, it was ultimately in vain. The One Ring is back in the hands of its master and the infamous King of Men kneels before me. Do you concede,” Sauron offered, but his eyes betrayed his true murderous intentions.
“Never. I will fight till my last breath has left my body,” the proud King cried.
“Then let us test that idea,” Sauron replied as he dismounted and drew his sword.
All of a sudden, the world exploded in a blinding white light. For seconds, none could see past the intense light that had spread across the skies. When the glow dissipated, all heads turned towards the source.
Atop the hills behind the plains of Mordor stood an army of horses and riders as far as the eye could see. All were clad in different, yet strange kinds of armor, the likes which none of the companies of the West had ever seen. Even more amazing were the kinds of riders that stood at the ready; women, men, Dwarves, and Haradirrim. At the front of the line sat twelve riders on twelve black horses, each wearing black cloaks that covered them. A single rider stood out from them, a young woman that sat atop an ivory-colored horse with a black mane. White feathers were woven into the hair of both horse and rider.
At the other side of this mysterious army were two horses. One was as white as the moon, bearing a rider that wore the royal armor of the Haradirrim. In front of him were a horse and rider who appeared to be the commander of this peculiar army. Another young woman sat atop a fierce-looking, black warhorse. She was clad in the armor of Gondor and in one hand held a sword that looked eerily familiar to the companies of the West. In the other hand, she held a long staff with an onyx stone at the top.
The twelve riders at the front of the line began to murmur a spell in Elvish. windwind picked up and a howling sound came crashing down from the heavens. It appeared as if the riders had summoned a Balrog. As the frightening beast moved towards the dragons in the sky, a war cry was heard and a rumbling began down the hills. To the companies of the West, it looked like a moving sea of black, white and gray across the fields of Mordor towards the Black Force.
Aragorn used the element of surprise this mysterious army had given and broke free of the orcs that held his prisoner. His commanders fwed wed suit and soon utter chaos had broken out amongst the two armies. The clashes of their swords were accompanied by swords and arrows that were shot from the unexplained army that now rallied to their side.
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When Phoenix had finally regained her senses after the spell was performed, she at first thought the Order had failed and they were still in the future. But when she saw Sauron about to deliver the death blow to the man she assumed was her father, something inside of her snapped. A pulsing sound began in her ears and she saw red before her black eyes. With a curt nod to Raven to summon the Balrog and a wink to Halden to lead the charge, Phoenix took off down the hill. She had only one goal in mind and that was to drive her sword through her former mentor.
She never knew how she made it to Sauron’s side with barely a scratch. Perhaps her army had finally remembered their drills and were hitting the enemy. Perhaps Raven had trained her coven better than she thought and their summoning powers had grown. It was mystery that she would gladly chalk up to Fate.
Before Phoenix knew it, she and Tempest stood behind where Sauron was clashing swords with Aragorn. As quietly as that had raised her, she dismounted Tempest and sent him into the heart of the battle. She drew her sword from its sheath and turned around just in time to see Sauron drive his sword into Aragorn’s unprotected side. A cry, like that of a wounded animal, escaped her lips as she watched her father fall.
I did not come back to watch history repeat itself. I came back to write the book was this last thing that ran through her head as Sauron turned to stare at her. He withdrew his sword for Aragorn’s side, causing him to fall to the ground with labor breath.
“Ahh…I see Gandalf has summoned a newy toy to give my army challenge. Tell me, young one, what do you hope to do here? Win? That prospect fell with its king,” Sauron said and for good measure, kicked the fallen man in his injured side.
“My, even in this time and place you resort to useless banter before we engage in battle. Do you just like to here yourself speak,” Phoenix retorted with barely concealed anger dripping in her voice. She thrust her sword up and was met with Sauron’s own. They immediately engaged in a timeless dance; one of calculated steps, timed thrusts and animalistic rage.
Finally, Phoenix gained the upper hand and forced Sauron to the ground. In a quick attempt to even the score, he swept his right leg under her and watched her fall to her knees. Both drew their swords on the other and held their own to the other’s neck.
“Who…are…you,” Sauron asked with heavy breathing.
“I am your past, your present and your future. I am your past apprentice, your present equal and your future executioner,” Phoenix whispered as she called her sword to her, “I am the daughter of kings, the descendant of a line of warriors, fighters and heroes. I am a soul that has seen too much destruction and bears the blood of too many on her conscience. I wear the face of one young with time, but carry the experience of two millennia in my memory. I am the light in the darkness; she who was reborn. I am Queen Aurora Darkstar, heir to the throne of Gondor and last of the Numenor line.”
With her speech finished, Phoenix stood up and drew her sword high above her head. It almost didn’t register in her mind when Sauron thrust his sword deep into her stomach. He looked at her and then said sarcastically , “You are another notch on my sword, your highness.”
Suddenly, a hallow sound flowed from Phoenix’s mouth. It was a laugh, but one that bore no cheer or happiness. Instead, it was filled with regret and despair. She slowly withdrew the sword from her stomach and threw it to the ground.
Phoenix raised her eyes to Sauron’s surprised face. She then said hollowly, “I cannot die, your majesty. Not until you no longer grace this time and place. You are my curse and my bane. I would gladly by rid of you.”
As silent as a panther on the prowl, Phoenix held her sword high above her head, then delivered the killing blow to Sauron; she drove her sword him into his chest. Suddenly, a great pain began to spread throughout her body. It felt as if a thousand knives were driving into her skin. A loud cry of pain left her mouth as she fell to her knees with Sauron.
“It would seem your end is near, m’Lady,” Sauron said through labored breath.
“It is an end I welcome with open arms,” Phoenix replied as the pain intensified. She held up her trembling left hand and looked at the silver ring on her middle finger. Time to seal the deal, she thought.
With the speed of a viper, she grabbed Sauron’s right hand; the one that bore the One Ring. As her ring touched his own, a black glow began to grow around the two enemies. As quickly as it came, it was gone. When Phoenix looked back down at her hand, she saw that both rings had vanished.
“What…what is this magic,” Sauron wheezed before he fell dead to the earth.
“It’s not magic; it’s justice,” Phoenix whispered as the world around her began to grow dark. She heard voices and was able to make out those of Raven and Halden. She heard the retreating steps of the Dark Army at the fall of their leader.
As Phoenix fell to the ground, she looked to the sky. The dark sky had begun to give way to the colors of sunset; pink, green, purple and blue. At least I got to watch the sun again before I die, Phoenix thought morbidly.
As she prepared to shut her eyes one final time, a figure came into her blurry line of vision. It was the face of one she had not seen in over a millennia. Blonde haill ill in disarray around a face she should have forgotten centuries ago, yet it was one she knew as well as her own. Blue eyes, the color of the returning sky, stared at her questioning. The blurred figure reached to finger the strange, yet familiar blue stone around her neck.
As Phoenix shut her eyes for what might be the last time, her last thought was At last I find my peace; in the arms of my angel.

 
A/N I know that the beginning has been a bit depressing, but I promise it will get cheerier in the next few chapters. Kudos and a spot in the story to whoever can tell me is the blurred figure Phoenix saw before she passed out…HINT: He is her lover!