Rukil let out a deep sigh of satisfaction, pleased to be free for the moment of the troubles of court as his steed flew across the dunes beneath him. They passed like waves in the ocean, each sand-capped crest blocking out the desert sun with their passage.

The horsemen sent up a cloud of dust behind them, the dry desert sand crumbling beneath their horses hooves. It felt familiar, yet distant, like a friend one hadn't seen in many years returning from a long journey.

Since taking the throne, Rukil had been busy, far too busy to ride across the desert. Much of Rhûn at first refused to recognize his rule, leading to rebellions and uprisings throughout the massive desert realm. Orcs and Men loyal to Sauron fomented unrest, ever attempting to undermine his rulership. Although peace finally came to the majority of Rhûn, there was still Mordor. Mordor, which, despite being leaderless, continued to be a land of shadow and darkness for many years after Sauron's fall. Evil things dwelt in the nooks of the mountains, and ancient beings who had dwelt under the earth long before Sauron's arrival woke from their age-old slumber, making war on the men who now slowly began to settle around the sea of Nurnen. Rukil's last taste of battle was there, where he sustained a blade-wound to the back that left many fearing he would be unable to move for the rest of his life. He eventually recovered, though from then on his advisors kept him off the battlefield.

In fact, this was the first time he had left Mistrand in months. Though he once traveled frequently to Gondor, the neighboring realm was now silent, and envoys were turned away at its border. Why this sudden change in diplomacy had occurred was anyones guess, but Rukil wondered if they would find the answers to this mystery here as well.

It was several days of travel before the reddish hues of the Orocarni Mountains graced the horizon. The party's destination lay there.

As the sun began to dip toward the western horizon, they came upon the first arm of the mountains, reaching out into the surrounding desert like a bloody scar.

"What do we seek within the mountains?" Kilic asked, reining his steed in at his father's side. His piercing eyes studied the scarlet-tinted rocks that lie before them, narrowed in concentration.

"There are ancient things within the mountains, my son," Rukil began. "Long hidden from the prying eyes of the world, an obscure cult dwelt in a narrow cleft of the mountains many centuries ago, practicing dark magic and and seeking forbidden knowledge. When our people bent the knee to Sauron, and before him the One too evil to name, this cult emerged from the shadows, leading our people further and further into darkness. Of their number, Khamul is the most well-known, though many of our former leaders' advisors and generals were among their ranks. Hidden under their garments they wore a device that their kin would know them by, a simple crescent moon.

"When I first began to fight for Rhûn's freedom, the Cult moved to stop me at every step of the way. They were a cunning foe, killing those who might aid me and supplanting them with their own foul servants. It wasn't until Morinehtar, the Blue Wizard, came to these very hills that they were finally cast down."

Kilic shifted uneasily in his saddle. "If they were defeated, why are we coming here now?"

"When Morinehtar returned from his battle with the Cult, he told me of their work here. He said that they were seeking to form a connection with the Unseen World... To this end, they had gathered all manner of ancient artifacts and tools of evil, attempting to use their power to somehow open a gate from our reality to theirs. At the time, they had remained unsuccessful, but Morinehtar was convinced that they were close to a breakthrough of sorts.

"When you showed me the fingers hewn from the Dark Lord's gauntlet, I immediately thought of Morinehtar's words to me when he told me of the Cult's task. He said 'should the forces of evil begin to amass dark relics once more, the Cult may be at work.' He cautioned me to preemptively return and completely destroy their outpost, but I was too preoccupied by the threats closer to home to pay him heed. I hope it is but a coincidence, but it has been a hard learned lesson that evil is never truly vanquished."

Hadar nodded. "If nothing else, we may learn of the Cult's true fate."

"How far are we from their outpost?" Kilic asked, squinting at the now-darkening hills before the group.

"I do not know," Rukil replied. "Only that they had need to study the stars, so it must be located at a vantage point from which to gaze upon the sky."

"Perhaps we should split up, we can cover more ground that way," Kilic said.

Hadar shook his head warily. "These hills are home to more than just orcs and cultists. It would be wise to maintain our numbers to discourage unwanted attention."

As they spoke, a loud boom sounded from the hills to their south, followed by a flash of light. Several of the horses reared up in fright, but their riders held control of them.

"Rukil, is that...?" Hadar asked, trailing off as he looked to his friend in concern.

"A drake? No! I think not," Rukil replied, his eyes still fixed on the spot the light had sprung from in the distance. "But it would be wise to keep your weapons at the ready nonetheless. Follow me!"

His horse broke into a full gallop as he broke away from the main body, his scarlet cloak billowing behind him. The others gave chase, yet it was Kilic that first came to his father's side. It seemed then when he looked upon his father that Rukil was young once more, untouched by the years of war and pain that had left him weathered and weary. His eyes held a fire within them, a hunger for adventure that reminded Kilic of his own reflection.

They rode until they came to a fork in the path. One route led east, further into the darkness of the mountains. The other stayed south, hugging the foothills. The east-road was narrow, little more than a footpath, but the south road seemed to be the clear continuation of the main road. Without hesitation, Rukil veered left, quickly disappearing into the shadows. Hadar, who had now caught up to the others, slowed for a brief moment before following suit. When Kilic tried to follow, his horse pulled against the reins, snorting and whinnying with what seemed to be apprehension. When Kilic spurred him onward, the horse suddenly reared up, nearly throwing Kilic from the saddle. His muscled arms rippled as he held tight to the reins, his legs digging into the horse's side to keep his seat. His mens' horses seemed uneasy as well, none of them willing to bear their riders further.

"It's the dark sorcery of the mountains!" One knight said fearfully. "The witches of these hills are said to hold sway over bird and beast."

"There are no witches," said Kilic. "They are but a tale to keep the foolish away from these mountains."

"We must follow our king!" Another knight replied, though fear also seeped into his voice.

"Then it seems we will have to do so on foot," Kilic said with a sigh of resignation, leaping from his mount and tying him to a nearby shrub. "Our horses will go no further."

========================

Rukil could barely see, so dark was the canyon he now found himself in. His steed, however, remained surefooted, a gift from the elves many years earlier. Most horses would have passed on by now, but Rukil's seemed to follow in the footsteps of her previous masters, showing little signs of age.

He could hear Hadar close behind, though the others must have fallen back. Still, he pressed on, intent on discovering the source of the blast of light.

The canyon soon opened up into a series of sloped hills, climbing ever upward until they were lost in the darkness beyond. Nothing could be discerned, save a dim light further up the slope. Rukil redirected his mount towards it, but a cry from Hadar stopped him from continuing on.

"Hold!" Hadar exclaimed, coming to his side. "Should we not wait for the others?"

"And risk letting a foe escape?" Rukil shook his head. "Come, let us hurry!"

The light grew brighter as they drew closer, forming itself into a small doorway carved into the rock. Rukil immediately leapt from his horse, drawing his scimitar as he hurried inside. Hadar, no longer the lithe young man he once was, took a second to gather his breath before following his king.

The doorway led into a tunnel that stayed mostly straight, though it gradually went deeper and deeper into the mountain. Torches lined both sides, illuminating their passage further. The air, stuffy with the smell of burning oil, carried on it distant voices, though what they said could not be deciphered.

It seemed like an eternity before they reached anything different than the blank stone walls of the tunnel. When they did, they both gasped. A large chamber had been carved out of the rock before them, its ceiling reaching higher than the back of a Mumak. White-cloaked figures gathered around what appeared to be a forge of some sort, their pale arms raised up into the air as they chanted in a dark tongue.

Rukil quickly ducked behind a stone column, pulling Hadar with him. "Black Speech," he murmured, "though I know not what they speak."

"What are they doing?" Hadar asked, peering around the corner of the column.

"I do not know that either," Rukil replied. "But we must stop them before they finish whatever it is they're doing."

Hadar let out a sigh. He was getting too old for this.

He stepped out then from behind the column. "In the name of the Khan of Rhûn, I bid you halt!"

The figures leapt up in surprise, turning to face the newcomers. Most of them wore golden masks fashioned in the design of emotionless faces, but one, who Hadar quickly deemed was their leader, wore a mask of silver. It was she that answered first.

"No king holds sway here," she hissed. "This is sacred ground."

"All lands within the kingdom of Rhûn belong him the Khan Rukil vas Dorgeshi," Hadar replied, a commanding air in his voice. "And all people within are his subjects."

Rukil then took his place beside Hadar. "I am Rukil vas Dorgeshi, and as Khan I demand you explain yourselves."

The white-cloaked woman walked, or rather practically slithered, closer, her body hunching and unhunching unnaturally with each movement. "You are owed no explanation, Lord of Betrayal. You forsook our lord and took up arms against him."

"You have no choice," Rukil replied fearlessly. "Either you answer to your King, or you die."

At this, the other white-clad figures all drew knives and rushed forward. Rukil moved with the speed of a cat, striking two foes simultaneously with his scimitar and dagger. Hadar executed a powerful diagonal slice that cut another nearly in half. They attacked the two warriors all at once, hoping to overwhelm them with numbers alone. However, it quickly became apparent that they were not trained fighters, as Rukil and Hadar quickly cut a swathe through them, littering the ground with bodies and bloodied white robes.

Their leader, however, held back, running to the forge and pulling an ornate staff from it. She shouted a few words in Black Speech and the end of it ignited, bathing the chamber in flame.

Hadar yanked his sword from the body of one of the cultists, letting him fall to the ground as he sought out his next foe. None stood between him and the leader, so without hesitation he sprinted forward with a cry. The leader thrust the staff forward, and a beam of fire hit Hadar, knocking him off his feet and flat onto his back. 

"You know not what you're dealing with!" The leader exclaimed, running back to the forge. She reached for a small bag that sat upon it, but a blade descended swiftly upon her hand as she did, severing it at the wrist. She screamed in pain and recoiled away instinctively, falling to her hands and knees. She swung the staff blindly behind her, shooting an arc of flame out from it. Rukil barely managed to escape the fire, his cloak singed as the flame rushed past.

The leader took the opportunity that the momentary distraction caused to make her escape, fleeing down a dark side passage. Rukil rose to make chase but Hadar stopped him. "It's almost certainly a trap!"

Rukil opened his mouth to argue, but his eyes landed on the pouch that sat intact next to the cultist's severed hand. "Perhaps she left behind all we need."

===============

Kilic and his men reached the tunnel entrance just in time to see Rukil and Hadar emerge out of it, both men drenched in blood and sweat.

"Where did they go, father???" Kilic exclaimed, rushing to his father's side with spear in hand. "I'll gut them!"

Rukil laughed, patting his son on the shoulder. "I'm uninjured, my son," he replied. "And all save one of our foes lie dead down that passage."

Kilic relaxed at this, looking both his father and Hadar up and down before he was satisfied that neither had been hurt. "What did you find?"

Rukil grew suddenly grim then, his eyes locking with his son's. "I need you to hasten to Gondor. Let no-one stop you." He produced a small pouch from his belt, putting it in Kilic's hand. "This... changes everything."