Blood flowed along the road paved with sandstone blocks, quickly washed into the cracks by the rain.
"Cursed foreigners!"
The last remaining soldier picked up his weapon and charged. With a metallic clang, his wrist went numb, a sharp pain jolted through his entire body, and he staggered before collapsing to the ground.
Thorns III, it inflicts rebound damage to anyone who makes a melee attack.
Soon, the final charging soldier also lay still.
"I don't harm civilians," the man said.
Just as he claimed, when only civilians remained at the scene, he sheathed his sword.
Those words alone deterred several nearby people who had been about to grab weapons, including the fruit stall owner behind him, who had picked up a cleaver and seemed to be planning a sneak attack.
For now, everyone present was indeed a civilian, but if the weapons in their hands were to strike... That would be another matter entirely.
No one moved.
Fear spread outward, and silence was soon followed by screams and chaos.
"Ahh!!"
The crowd gathered in the market scattered instantly, each person fleeing in different directions without regard for the heavy rain.
The fruit stall owner lost his footing and fell to the ground with a thud, trembling as he crawled backward. He didn't care about the mud coating his hands or the dirty water soaking his clothes; after scrambling to his feet, he let out a loud cry and ran off. But after only two steps, he tripped again and fell headfirst into his own fruit display.
Silver coins spilled across the ground.
Shaking his head, Garrett walked to the prison cage. With a few swift strikes, he broke the bars, pulled out a bottle of his last regeneration potion, and poured it down the captured commander's throat.
The man's health began to slowly recover.
This was the last regeneration potion in his inventory.
Regeneration potions were truly scarce, brewing them required ghast tears, which could only be obtained from a rare creature, the ghast, found in the Nether.
This meant that whenever he ran out of regeneration potions, he had to spend long periods in the Nether, and even then there was no guarantee of finding one.
In comparison, instant healing potions were much easier to craft, only needing a glistering melon made from a melon and gold nuggets.
Although their overall effect and healing amount were inferior to regeneration potions, they worked instantly and were inexpensive to produce.
Now that he had melons, he could have instant healing potions whenever he needed them.
Hoisting the slowly recovering Gondorian commander onto his back, Garrett casually picked up a blanket from the market and wrapped it around him. Then, following the same path he had taken, he began walking back.
A faint, almost imperceptible scent of blood lingered in the air.
Splash, splash...
The sound of hurried footsteps mixed with the patter of rain, forming a deep, rhythmic drumbeat.
"Where is he?"
The commander of the troops stationed in the Harnen River region finally arrived, far too late.
Seeing the chaotic market and the damaged prison wagon, the fury on his face was barely contained.
"What happened here this time..."
Just then, a faint sound came from within the market. The commander turned his head to see someone crawling out from beneath a fruit stall.
"Halt!" he barked, and the man froze instantly, too terrified to move.
Moments later, two soldiers dragged the fruit stall owner before the commander.
"What happened here?"
Under the crushing pressure radiating from the commander, the fruit seller couldn't hide anything. Shaking like a leaf and clutching his chest, he forced himself to speak, "T-There was... there was a terrifying man in a robe. He took away the body of that Gondorian prisoner. I... I heard he was from the East."
"And?" the commander demanded, gripping the fruit seller's head.
"A-And... what else..." The shopkeeper racked his brains under the suffocating pressure. "Yes! A soldier tried to cut him with a sword, but it was like he cut himself instead! He can use sorcery, sorcery! Yes, he used magic to reflect attacks! That's... that's all I know, truly—"
Thud.
The fruit stall owner was tossed to the ground, and the commander clenched his fists tightly.
From the East, uses magic, abducts people.
"It's that wizard again!"
"A bunch of fools, the whole town is covered with wanted posters for him, and not one of you recognized him!?"
"That blue-robed archer who kidnapped our court mage..."
Suppressing his anger for the moment, the commander waved over his lieutenant.
"Gather every fighting man we can muster in the town. Contact the guards at the crossing. Don't let any suspicious person pass."
"We're going to capture that wizard."
"Commander, isn't that rather dangerous?" the lieutenant asked.
"I heard that wizard has all kinds of strange abilities, even our court mage was no match for him."
"You make a fair point." The commander thought for a moment, then said,
"Have the soldiers all carry shields, to guard against his magic and arrows."
"Can shields alone truly stop him?" the lieutenant pressed.
"I know you're always cautious, and that serves us well on the battlefield, but this time you can set aside some of your doubts," the commander said.
"Do you really think the sturdy shields of our warriors cannot stop ice shards no bigger than pebbles? Just some laughable conjurer's tricks."
"I understand."
The lieutenant accepted the order and immediately went to carry it out.
"Black serpents will strangle the white tree."
The commander turned toward the direction of the crossing, murmuring words like an incantation.
The black serpent was the shared emblem of the Haradrim and the Corsairs of Umbar, a symbol of the faith that bound them together.
Umbar's emblem was two golden serpents coiling around a scepter; Harad's was an ouroboros, a snake devouring its own tail; Near Harad's was a thick black serpent.
No matter the variation, there was always a serpent.
That was why the Easterlings thought them strange, always obsessed with their snake worship.
As for the white tree, that, of course, was the emblem of Gondor, originating from the single white tree planted in the Citadel of Minas Tirith, itself descended from the sacred trees of Númenor, much like the mallorn trees of Lothlórien.
The last of its kind in all of Middle-earth.
"And what difference can taking away a corpse possibly make?"
---
At the Harnen river crossing, the riverbank here was always heavily guarded to prevent enemy spies from slipping across from the opposite shore.
Today was no different, except this time, many soldiers had come with specific orders.
"Wanted: the blue-robed wizard who abducted the court mage and the body of a Gondorian prisoner. Be advised, he is skilled with the bow, and hurls ice shards the size of pebbles to harass his enemies."
Garrett listened to the rumors in this Haradrim settlement and felt at a loss for words.
They weren't talking about him, they were describing Alatar. He'd kidnapped a prisoner too?
What a coincidence.
And what was this about a court mage? Surely they didn't mean the other Blue Wizard, Pallando?
Those two... one had become an adviser to the Khan of Rhûn, the other a court mage in Harad, both doing quite well for themselves, it seemed.
Still, from the sound of it, the Harad court mage's situation might not be entirely voluntary. Otherwise, how could he have been "abducted"?
Garrett strolled casually away from the heavily guarded ferry crossing, the only place people could cross directly, carrying the Gondorian commander on his back.
Reaching another spot along the riverbank, he quickly crafted a small wooden boat on the spot, settled the still-unconscious commander in the stern, and took his place at the oars to begin rowing north.
As he rowed leisurely across the water, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude.
Alatar was proving quite helpful. By drawing away most of the attention, he had made Garrett's crossing considerably smoother.
Perhaps this was the foresight of a true Istari.