A/Notes: Posted 12-11-12

{Nooooo, I should have waited till tomorrow to post this and it would have been 12-12-12.}

Well, here I am again, shamefaced and penitent... I haven't added a chapter to this story in over six months. Once again my excuse was me fighting with my pen. I used to just sit down and the words would flow. But that was when I was allowing it to do anything it wanted. Now, whenever I try to be in charge, the flow of ideas, words, and fun just evaporates. -_- Not nice.

So... as I am placing my pen to the paper now, I swear to you that I have no idea what will come out, only that I will willingly be the servant to the pen.

Chapter Eleven: The Love of Battle

Something wasn't right... But in his semi-conscious state he couldn't quite put a name to it. His mouth was dry as he groaned, but there was no sound. And the fuzziness in his waking mind almost convinced him he was still dreaming. If it weren't for the accompanying nausea, he might have just turned over and pulled up the cover... the cover...

He blinked, clearing his vision, and noticed the dwarven runes carefully sewn into the quilt. That was when he became mentally alert, clearly recalling the events of the night before; the good natured taunting, the elaborate stories, the ardent challenges, and the abundant drinking... Well, he recalled most of it clearly; as clearly as he was able through the current mead induced pounding in his head.

Taking a deep breath of frosty air roused the rider's body to readiness, though he remained in the sleeping position. He knew that something wasn't right; there were no sounds at all. Utter silence filled the camp, and the unnaturalness of the event raised the hair on his neck with dread; no birds, no crickets, no wind, no horses, no dwarven snores...

Murtagh knew it had to be a silencing spell. Nothing else could account for the complete lack of noise. Remaining as still as possible, he stretched his foot over to nudge Urnok in the side. A finger to his lips and a look of seriousness, told the groggy dwarf all he needed to know, for he was quick to realize that things were amiss. Of course it was unnecessary to caution against sound while the spell was active, but it was the first signal that occurred to him.

A quick mental probe by the disguised rider revealed some rather disturbing facts; the first being the source of the silencing spell. It was originating from somewhere within the traveling caravan. The magicians... Murtagh was almost instantly certain of this. The question was, what was the purpose of casting such a spell... and who all was affected. While Murtagh was pondering this thought, his probing soon made him aware of a second fact. There was a group of nearly fifty renegade imperial soldiers moving quickly in their direction and they were nearly upon them.

Murtagh tried to swear, and was surprised once again when no sound could be heard. That caused him an additional scowl, for it meant that he could not work a counter-spell, nor could he speak the 'Name'.

-The rider had pretty much promised himself not to ever again use 'the Name' again. But he knew there would be exceptions to his resolve. To protect his dragon, or to save Nasuada; for such emergencies he might be tempted to use it.-

But now, without speech, he was prevented from using magic of any kind.

Urnok also realized the situation, and so they silently nudged the other dwarves awake, even as they readied their weapons. Each dwarf in turn woke the fellow on the other side of him, and in no time at all the entire camp had come to their feet.

Murtagh couldn't help but be amazed at the speed with which the dwarves became battle ready. It was mere seconds, as he watched them rise and shake off the previous nights festivities. Some of them had been quite intoxicated, but now, looking at their fiercely alert eyes, he would never had suspected.

Being the tallest of the group, it was easy for Murtagh to use simple gestures to point out the approximate location of the approaching enemy. And only moments later the attacking party emerged from the dark and foggy edges of the campsite.

They were obviously human, and likely a lost garrison of the late king's army. The purpose of the attack was hard to figure, but Murtagh couldn't shake the suspicion that both their arrival and the magician's silencing spell were certainly more than coincidence.

EldMoi, or rather Mutagh, took a deep and cleansing breath. There was a thrill that coursed through him as the attacking figures rushed into the dwarven camp with the intention of a quick and silent ambush. Surprise flashed on their faces as they discovered that their quarry was not only awake, but prepared to fight. A content and satisfied sneer adorned the disguised face of the rider. He hadn't felt this alive since... since when?... But he had little time to dwell on such questions as his sword began slicing down the enemy with methodical ease... and battle sang in his blood...

That was all the dwarves needed to see. They threw back their heads in a soundless battle cry as they joined in the clash, and the rider marveled at the surge of power that washed over him at their combined 'silent' roar. Even with the silencing spell, there was something awe inspiring about the event.

As one, the fearless band of bearded warriors charged against their startled attackers, and the disguised rider fought right along with them. Deep in Murtagh's subconscious he felt an inexplicable déjà vu to his current predicament. He wasn't sure how or why, but there was a rightness to his being here and fighting with these brave warriors, a satisfaction to opposing the king's soldiers, and a gratification at seeing the enemy's fear.

The panic that shone in the enemy's eyes caused Murtagh to wonder whether these soldiers were under oath to complete the attack; for it clearly looked as if they would have preferred to have fled, now that the advantage of surprise was no longer theirs. And yet they did not flee. They were trapped in this fight; a fight they did not desire...

And that was when it occurred to Murtagh just what this feeling was that he was experiencing. He had not felt this surging of life inside him since the battle under Farthen Dur where he had also fought beside dwarves. That had been the last time he had fought freely, and an enemy of his own choosing. That has been the last time that his blood lust hadn't tasted of his own bile, tainted by the irony of being used against his brother. Once more he was free, and suddenly battle was sweet again. A small smile found its place on his lips, and he would have uttered a cry to rival the dwarves, but the spell would not allow for sound of any kind.

And truly it was strange; fighting without the aid of sound. There was no clang as swords were deflected, no cries when men were stabbed, no thuds as bodies fell, and no way to call for help if it was needed.

Murtagh caught sight of Urnok battling two of the soldiers, and he moved next to him to even the odds. The dwarf threw him a meaningful grin, and trusting his new acquaintance to cover his back, he turned his full focus on vanquishing the soldier before him. This strategy worked so well that other dwarves noticed and started to emulate the pair, leading to a very successful resolution to the skirmish.

And the battle was over in just a few minutes, almost as quickly as it started. Somewhere during the brief but fierce combat, the sky had gone from the darkest night to a dim predawn, revealing the bodies of the enemy soldiers strewn all about the encampment. They had all been killed, for none had even attempted to run. And though there were a number of injuries to the dwarves, not one death was counted among them.

Suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, the sound of heavy breathing could be heard... and stumbling feet... and weapons being reclaimed and cleaned... and dwarven victory cries. Their company included a handful of healers, and now that the silencing spell had been removed, these dwarves began to move through the grounds treating the wounded.

Shouts could also be heard coming from the other sections of the caravan, for a good number of them were running up to the dwarven camp to assist. Judging by their faces, they were astounded to see the bloody bodies of the fallen enemy. It seemed that none of the other groups had been attacked.

Murtagh stood back leaving the dwarves to explain what had happened. He could add very little without exposing his own knowledge of magic, and that might endanger the mission or expose his identity. So he listened to the exchange from a distance, and reveled in the surge of power still flowing through his blood.

Unexpectedly a solid hand slapped him on the back, followed by a dwarvish laugh.

"So EldMoi, you be a trader, a storyteller, and a warrior too," Urnok accused teasingly. "You have certainly been well named, changer... If only you were able to hold your drink, you might make a very fine dwarf."

"Ha!" Murtagh responded in defense of his limitations. "I held enough drink considering my weight. You must have twice my girth..."

"And you twice my height," growled the dwarf right back. And they both laughed together, but it was short-lived, and a seriousness seemed to swallow up the moment.

"The attack targeted the dwarves."

"It was well planned, and might have worked but for you people's fast reactions."

"And you alerting us... But none of the dead appear to be magicians, so where did they go?"

The gaze of the changer met and held that of the dwarf, and it became clear that there was more to this attack than anyone realized.

"What I say now must not go beyond you and me. I tell you this so that you may urge your comrades to be cautious. Though I am still uncertain of the purpose of the attack, I do know that the magicians who cast the silencing spell are travelers among this caravan. I also know that they are part of a plot against the new queen and the new peace... I have been following them. And if they have discovered my purposes, it is possible that I was the target of the attack."

The dwarf looked amazed at this unexpected turn, and then perplexed.

"But why send fifty men after just one?... and why wait until you are camped in the middle of a group of dwarven warriors to attack? It would have been easier to destroy you back at your own camp, especially with you on the far edge of things."

"True... That thought has puzzled me as well. But why would they attack retreating troops? You would think that they would welcome the diminishing of the queen's support..."

EldMoi's words hit him even as they fell from his lips, and the dwarf caught on just as fast.

"Aye... a lost garrison of dwarves would spark suspicion between the races. And even more support for her cause would be lost."

"That has to be it," the changer nodded agreement. "It's the only thing that makes sense. But that means that your group must remain very wary."

"Aye, and it means that I'll be helping you with your mission."

Murtagh's surprise shined through his disguise. He hadn't expected this, but once he gave the thought a moment to sink in, it seemed to be a satisfactory development. He couldn't help smiling as nodded in acceptance of the offer. As if on queue, the sound of the mustering horn resonated in the air. It was the greeting of a new day, and a call to rouse the rest of the camp -those who were not already up- to rise, and eat, and ready to break camp.

"We can talk more at the midday meal," the changer suggested, indicating the conversation was now at a close.

"Aye," the dwarf added. "You bring the leaf, and I'll bring the ale."

And EldMoi grinned at his friend's suggestion, but as the other turned to join his brothers in the restoration of their campsite, the smile faded. What would the good hearted dwarf think if he knew who it was he was offering his aid and ale to. What would he think about EldMoi's deception?

How was the rider ever going to make true friends if he had to hide his identity in order to do so? And then once befriended, how could he bear to continue the deception? A wave of despair washed over him, and he wrestled it into that dark place locked within. But this time there was a difference. This time, even though he did not have the answer to his dilemma, he felt sure that somewhere an answer did indeed exist, if only he could find it...

'One step at a time,' he told himself firmly. 'First see to the queen's safety, and then worry about the conundrums of life and the acquisitions of friends.'

Now that all the danger had passed, and his desire for battle was dwindling, Murtagh turned quietly, and headed back to his lonely campsite. He needed time and space to get used to the new feelings of elation that were still coursing through his veins. He had almost forgotten how good it could feel, how much he loved to battle, and he was determined to relish every moment of it. The rider planned to share it all with his dragon.

Many were the times that the dragon had enthusiastically burst into his thoughts to show him some new aerobatic capability, or the outcome of an exciting hunt. Thorn loved to share his experiences with his rider, and now Murtagh had something worthy of sharing with him; the love of battle.

The rider smiled at the thought, as he arrived at his camp and began to change out of his blood and dirt covered clothing. But he didn't get far. Suddenly he became aware of someone trying to scry him...

A/Notes: Posted 12-11-12

Oh I have to say that I have not quite done as I intended... I said I would give my writing equal attention as the RP I am involved with. I have not succeeded, but I am getting better. XD

Many many many thanks to all my reviewers. And to anyone who has looked at my profile and seen my top Favorite Stories, you might want to note that there have been a couple additions to the list. Very good stuff, so feel free to check them out and enjoy.

I thank you for reading. And if you like what you have read, I'd love to hear from you... And if you don't like what you've read, I'd still love to hear from you... Ah heck! Just review and I'll be happy. XDD