“This is my war, and my army,” Baelor yelled, “And I will be the one to decide when and where we are to move.”

“Running back to Gun dürin is stupid,” Elardōre snapped back, “We have the humans on the run. Chase them down. Kill them. Bathe in their blood. And then strike Crydon while they are distracted.”

“I did not begin this fight to wipe out or enslave the human race,” Baelor said seriously, “This fight is for equality between the races, and that will not be achieved when all humans are dead.”

“’Course it will,” Elardōre yelled back, “If there ain’t no humans, then you won’t need to beg for equality.”

“We will return to Gun dürin. That is my decision,” Baelor said threateningly.

“You came to me remember,” Elardōre growled, his eyes glowing angrily, “It was my Djarcs that gained you your victory here.”

“Be that as it may,” Baelor replied evenly, “You are not the one leading the army, I am, and you will not usurp my authority.”

Elardōre sneered, his eyes threatening.

“We will let the humans within the city leave when we depart tomorrow,” Baelor said authoritatively, “And your Djarcs will not kill them, understood.”

“What?” Elardōre balked in disbelief, “You think they will thank you Baelor? They will despise you and hate you and your kin for the rest of their lives. This is why we make their lives much shorter.”

Baelor hesitated, but shook his head, “No they will not be killed.”

“Enslave them then,” Elardōre replied with smile, “Cast your dominion over them and make them work for the aid of your army. If your men are tied from manual labours when real battle comes upon you, they will lose and your hopes for equality will die with them.”

Again Baelor was hesitant, and he considered Elardōre’s words. 

Raith had watched the argument in amusement between these two from the beginning, but only now did he feel the air tingle with magicks.

Surprisingly the two of them came to an agreement, which resulted in enslaving some of the humans and letting the others run to Waifald.

After their swift victory at Bregta, Raith and the army of the Elder Races had stayed within the city for many days waiting for the response from Crydon. Word soon came that Crydon was in turmoil and their grand move against the humans had gone largely unnoticed. This realisation had put Baelor in a foul mood and he spent his time brooding in the castle while the rest of the army mulled about the town of Bregta in bordom. Only now had Baelor decided to return to Gun dürin and wait for a time when his attack would not go unnoticed.

Raith had wondered what they were going to do with enslaved huamns, but he could not be bothered to voice his opinion.

Before Lord Haron’s army was even close to the border they left Bregta and made the journey back across the plains of Kalladen to Gun dürin. The slaves were set about working around the camps of the Elder Races, cooking, cleaning, and other menial tasks that were set to them. Many of the Elder Races in the army found the arrangement quite odd and openely opposed such an arrangement, which resulted in the human slaves simply setting up their own camp within the walls of the old city and not working for the army.

As the days drifted by and still no move was made Raith and the Elder Races became restless and they all began to wonder if Baelor was still in control of the situation and whether they would finally see some progress.

To the unease of many, the army of Djarcs continued to camp out the front of the city gates and as the days passed seemed to grow in number. Sick of the waiting Elardōre had commanded many of his Djarcs to wander the land as well as attack the town of Waifald. This move had caused another argument between Baelor and Elardōre, but by the the time it had finished the Djarcs continued to raid the land. This development spurred on the romours that Baelor had lost control and that Elardōre was in fact the reincarnation of Gildon. Many in the army despaired at this thought, even more so as they realised that Baelor could not control him. But they all realised there was little they could do now, the gears were already in motion, and with the Djarcs camped around the city they could not simply leave.

Heavy clouds hung over Gun dürin and had done so for many days now, like the weather was mimicking the mindset within the city.

Raith sighed and shook his head as he considered the thought and looked across the large city.

He was sitting on the top floor of a broken tower at the far wastern section of the city. To his left the land ascended gently to the castle which was built deep into the mountain side. Before his eyes the black city buildings spread out, the many old streets winding haphazodly throughout the broken and crumbling buildings and stretching far away to the city walls in the distance. Bone white trees could be seen throughout the city tiers, their thin fingers clawing at the sky as if trying to hold on to the life that had left them. The light of the day was dim and bleak, the heavy clouds above locking in the smoke of the many camp fires.

It was odd to Raith that none had ever thought to hack down the dead trees and burn them. But all the Elder Races had refused to do it for a reason that was beyond him, and they had also told the humans who were now camping within Gun dürin not to do so either.

That was another odd development in Raith’s mind, and quite amusing when he looked at it. Although they had been brought here as slaves, none of the Elder Races wanted them to be such and let the humans set up their own campsite. Raith looked absently to his right and down at the southern end of the city where the humans had set their camp beside many groups of the Elder Races.

It had come as a surprise to Raith that such a situation had developed and for all their spruiking for equality and death to humans, the Elder Races were quite accepting of the humans within the ranks. But maybe that was just because they knew they had the upper hand over the humans.

Raith sighed and rubbed the tension from his brow, all this waiting around was frustrating him no end, and still he had no word from Kreha as to what he should be doing.

“De’im Kreha, what am I doing here?” Raith mumbled and kicked a loose pebble off the edge of the high tower.

“Grumbling and kicking rocks it seems to us,” a light voice replied behind him.

Raith did not need to turn around for he recognised the voice as Kreha’s.

The young woman with straight black hair and wearing a short white dress, which resembled more of a nighty, stood beside Raith and also looked across the city.

Raith sighed heavily and shook his head, “What brings you here now and not before?”

“Do we hear a bit of anger in its voice? I think we do,” Kreha laughed, “Its does not know what anger is. But we do, yes indeed we do.”

“I have been lingering in this ruined city for days,” Raith said in exasperation, “It is the new year already, the Elder Races had a subdued celebration the other night. Why am I sitting around and doing nothing? You said to help Baelor, and I have done so, but what’s next?”

Kreha looked indignant and waved her finger at him, “You should not be so rude to us. I am here now to tell you what to do next.”

“And you could not have come earlier?” Raith asked, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“No, I could not,” Kreha snapped, anger coming to her face, “The time was not right. But now it is. We know, yes we do.”

“Alright,” Raith sighed, “Then tell me, Kreha, what do you want me to do?”

Kreha giggled and a wide smile came to her face.

“First it is time you know things,” Kreha said, “Things about The Five and Elardōre in particular. You see, each of The Five created demi-gods to serve them, all except Azarě though, he did not like the idea for some reasons, we knows.”

“I know the story,” Raith nodded, “My brothers and I were lectured on much of Essinendüers lore and beliefs before we came here.”

Kreha smiled evily, “Then it should be no surprise to learn that Elardōre, who is also Gildon, is one of those demi-gods.”

Raith narrowed his eyes, “Which one? Gothōr, the demi-god of Agnōr? He was the embodiment of darkness and death.”

“Wrong,” Kreha said loudly and cut Raith off. “He is Brarga, the first minion of Anduěr. He is the manifestation of mischief, domination, and destruction. Do you see it?”

Raith slowly nodded his head.

“And you will kill him,” Kreha said simply, and Raith looked surorised.

“Alright,” Raith said with a shrug, “Now?”

“No no no,” Kreha shook her head emphatically, “You will know when the time is right. Which is not now.”

“But he is a demi-god,” Raith remarked, “How exactly do you expect me to do it?”

A sly smile came to Kreha’s face, “The minions of The Five are physical manisfestations of Fog. They were moulded from the Fog and it makes up their being. They are ageless, but not immortal.”

Raith nodded, “And how do you expect to kill The Five, when you could not before?”

A dark cloud came across Kreha’s face and her childish demeanour changed suddenly, “They were prepared for me the first time, this time they will not be.”

Raith looked away from Kreha and back across the city, nothing more was said for many minutes and Raith soon realised that Kreha had disappeared again.

With a sigh Raith moved down the stairs of the broken tower and back into Gun dürin. It was past midday by the time he arrived back at his campsite where Bārdin moving about like a trapped lion, ordering things be done that did not really need doing at all.

“Raith,” Bārdin shouted, “Come here an’ give us a hand with these rocks.”

“Why? What are you doing?” Raith asked as he moved to help.

“Making a proper firepit,” Bārdin replied as he spat on his palms before lifting a large piece of a broken building.

Slowly Raith moved to help and with the aid of several other dwarves the firepit was built at the centre of the small cal-de-sac and below the white tree. As they finished Bārdin called Raith to join him for a drink off to the side of the street.

“Can you believe this Raith?” Bārdin huffed after he took a long drink of water.

“What do you mean?” Raith asked back in confusion.

“What has happened to us all?” Bārdin replied, “Us Elder Races? Look at us all cooped up in this city waiting for something to happen. I’m going stricrazy I tell ya, and I’m not the only one. And Baelors doing nothing, he’s lost it to Elardōre I reckon.”

“Do you want to know the truth,” Raith said after a few moments, “I was surprised to see you here, with this army. After, of course, I remembered who you are.”

“What are you on about?” Bārdin looked at him curiously.

“I can tell you do not share the ideals of Baelor,” Raith continued, “You want equal rights like all others here, but I can tell that you realise that making war, killing innocents, and allying with Elardōre, is the hard way of achieve it. So, why are you here Bārdin?”

“I told you why,” Bārdin snapped angrily, “Most of my kin are dead, where else have I got to go. No use living with humans, they will cheat you and turn on you eventually.”

 “But some of your kin remain,” Raith replied, “And see how the human and Elder Races get along within these walls.”

“They behave out of fear,” Bārdin was quick to say.

“So make sure they all fear you,” Raith shrugged, “Take your clan members, the new and the old, and find a place to your liking. Make sure the locals respect you and fear your anger and stop wellowing in depression here in Gun dürin. This place is depressing enough without you adding to it, and more so recently.”

“What do you know of it?” Bārdin huffed, and moved to head off but Raith grabbed his shoulder.

“I know you don’t belong with this army,” Raith replied quietly, “And I know you can see that too.”

Bārdin pulled away from Raith and stomped off into the city.

Raith took another sip of water and leaned against the side of a broken building, wondering how he would accomplish killing Elardōre.

The afternoon drifted into night and still Bārdin was gone, and still Raith was lost in his thoughts. Fluna invited him to share her bed again, but he did not go to her that night for Raith had more important thing to consider.

Most of the night he spent thinking about how he would kill Elardōre, but as the hours drifted by his mind went to other things. Chief of which was the blonde haired woman who had no name and still he did not know who she was. The image of the beautiful woman smiling at him in his mind’s eye strengthened his resolve to find a way to destroy Elardōre, the demi-god Brarga.

When the next day grew light and all were beginning to rise from their slumber, Bārdin returned in the same fashion he had departed last night, his heavy boots sounding loudly on the stone pathways.

“On ya feet all,” Bārdin yelled and his clan moved as quick as they could to obey their King. “I have had enough of Baelor’s war. We are moving out today. Before the afternoon if at all possible.”

“But me King,” Dwilt said as the other dwarves moved to pack up.

“Don’t worry Dwilt,” Bārdin cut in, “I know what you’re thinking, and if you and your kin want to stay I won’t think less of ye. You’re a good dwarf and I am proud to know you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dwilt replied, “After what happened on the road from Valier, me mind was in a bad place. But meeting you, I see things not as bleakly as I did, me kin feel the same, even Fluna says so. Me and my kin would be proud to follow you Bārdin, son of Bain. But my concern is the Djarcs that block the exit.”

“I’ll sort that when I tell Baelor my plans,” Bārdin said and slapped Dwilt on the shoulder, “Which I’m about to do now.”

With a couple more words with his clan members Bārdin left the cul-de-sac and headed for the castle, with Raith following.

“Not a word from you,” Bārdin huffed to Raith as they walked along, and Raith smiled.

“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” Raith replied quietly and continue to follow.

It was still early morning by the time the reached the open courtyard in front of the castle. There Baelor was standing, looking out over the city, his pale green eyes looking bloodshot and dull.

“You need to sleep more Baelor,” Bārdin remarked curiously as he walked up to the Blood Elf. “You’re looking tied.”

“Tied of your company perhaps,” Baelor replied dully, “You are ruining my morning.”

“Don’t ye worry, I’ll be gone soon,” Bārdin snapped, “Gone for good. Me and my kin are leaving today. We have had enough of your war and all this pointless sitting around.”

Baelor slowly looked from the city and to Bārdin and Raith, his blood shot eyes narrowing.

“I don’t think Elardōre will approve of that,” the Blood Elf said softly.

“Who cares what that crack pot thinks,” Bārdin replied, “I thought you were running this army Baelor. I thought it was our choice whether we stay or go, and I’m going. Got it?”
Baelor blinked a couple of times and stretched his neck, a look of confusion coming to his features as he seemed to suddenly realise that Bārdin and Raith were in front of him.

“Yes,” Baelor said commandingly, “I am in control of this army. But I ask that you remain a while longer. If you leave openly and suddenly the rest will start considering it as well, and I do not want that.”

“You need to lead your army Baelor, thats what,” Bārdin said suddenly, “Everyone’s thinking Elardōre is controlling you. Get rid of him and his Djarcs, or I’m telling you that your army will leave you regardless of what I do.”

“But he can’t get rid of me,” Elardōre laughed as his trotted from the castle and past the dead trees that stood in the courtyard, a manic look in his eye. “No one can get rid of me. I am the force of this army. I am the blood of this army and its will. I hold dominion over the Djarcs, and soon the realms. Without me you will fail utterly and the Elder Races will be lynched wherever they go. Do you want that Baelor? Well? Do you want to see that happen to your people? Do you?”

The glassy look once again came to Baelor’s eye and he shook his head, “No, I do not want that.”

“But you are welcome to leave little dwarfy,” Elardōre said, looking to Bārdin and Raith.

“Then tell your Djarcs to make a path for me and my kin,” Bārdin demanded.

“No no, I don’t think so,” Elardōre shook his head, “But perhaps I will let them kill you and then I shall turn you into a Djarc as well. Or better yet, make you watch while I turn each of your companions into Djarcs and let them try and eat each other. How does that sound? Good? Yes it does.”

Bārdin did not reply and narrowed his eyes angrily.

“Off you two go, run along and don’t bother me. Ever again,” Elardōre growled and waved them away before turning his back on them.

Raith saw his chance to strike the insufferable man, but the sound of a clear and loud horn drew his eyes to the east.

The dull look in Baelor’s eyes seemed to disappear and he strode excitedly past Raith, looking too to the eastern horizon.

“King Lienthor has finally come,” Baelor smiled, “We need wait no longer Bārdin. Come we will meet the King on the fields and see what he will offer us.”

“Stop, curses to the Abyss,” Elardōre yelled, “Attack him, don’t meet with him. What do think he will do? Pardon you war crimes? You are deluded Baelor, he will look to punish you and all the Elder Races.”

Another loud and clear horn sounded and the light from Inüer seemed to grow bright in the east.

“No, Elardōre, he won’t,” Baelor shook his head, his green eyes bright, “Remember that I control this army. You had your chance long ago Gildon, and failed. Lienthor will hear my proposal and a deal will be made. Come with me and see for yourself. You too, Bārdin.”

A slight smile came to Baelor’s face and he headed for the stairs leading down into the city.

“Go with them,” Raith heard the voice of Kreha in his head and moved to join.

Elardōre suddenly wheeled on Raith, his eyes narrowed.

“Did you say something?” the bald man asked suspiciously.

“No,” Raith replied simply, “It must have been the voice in your head.”

Elardōre sneered, “I don’t like you.”

“The feeling is mutual, Gildon,” Raith replied coldly.

An ugly smile crept to Elardōre’s face, “Things do not bode well for people I don’t like.”

“That’s strange. I was about to say the same thing,” Raith replied evenly, and stared menacingly at Elardōre.

“Are you two coming?” Baelor shouted from down the stairs, breaking their eye contact.

Raith glared dangerous at Elardōre as he moved past the man headed down the stairs. Soon he was at the gates with Baelor, Elardōre and Bārdin, and the four of them headed off on horseback to meet King Lienthor in the plains of Kalladen.