A human mixed among a group of Orcs. That person's identity was definitely unusual.
This thought flashed through Tarnes's mind as he immediately spurred Torrent toward the deathly pale figure, his Pike aimed with lethal precision. The sharp gleam of the spearpoint caught the torchlight like a star of death.
Black Hand's eyes widened at the approaching threat, but years serving Sauron had honed his reflexes to razor sharpness. He grabbed a nearby Orc by the scruff of its neck and hurled the creature at the charging spirit steed.
Torrent's response exceeded Black Hand's expectations. The ghostly mount dodged left with fluid grace, avoiding the flying Orc while his hooves lashed out with bone-crushing force. Two more Orcs crumpled as iron-hard hooves connected with skulls and ribs, their bodies folding like broken dolls.
The sickening thud of bodies hitting the wasteland echoed across the battlefield as Tarnes closed the distance. He twisted his Pike with practiced expertise, shifting from thrust to a diagonal strike aimed at Black Hand's burning crimson eyes.
Black Hand's longsword sang from its sheath, the blade intercepting Tarnes's spearpoint in a shower of sparks. The clash of metal rang out like a blacksmith's hammer striking an anvil, the sound carrying across the desolate plain.
Tarnes flowed seamlessly into his next movement, twisting his wrist to transform thrust into sweep. The heavy metal spearpoint crashed against Black Hand's defensive blade with tremendous force, the impact reverberating through both weapons. Black Hand grunted in pain as the blow sent him flying dozens of meters across the scorched earth.
Melina deflected several crude arrows with economical movements, her blade creating brief flashes of gold in the darkness. "Don't be careless," she warned, her voice carrying the calm authority of an experienced warrior.
Tarnes didn't turn his head, instead pulling Torrent's reins to pursue the airborne Black Hand. "I know. The impact felt wrong. He's wearing armor under that cloak. He used my attack deliberately to create distance."
Even as he spoke, Black Hand executed a series of rolls across the rough ground, dispersing the force of Tarnes's strike before springing back to his feet. The tattered remains of his cloak fell away like shed skin, revealing the menacing black iron armor beneath. Curved spikes jutted from shoulder plates and gauntlets, and the entire ensemble seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
The surrounding Orcs moved with unnatural coordination, clearly under Black Hand's control. They threw themselves into Torrent's path with suicidal abandon, allowing their heads to be trampled flat or their bodies pierced by Tarnes's Pike. Their sacrifice bought their master precious seconds to recover.
Black Hand raised his longsword in a mocking salute, his voice maintaining its coldly calm timber despite the violence he'd just endured. "To think there are warriors like you among those pathetic rangers. Exposing traitors and charging single-handedly into battle. With such strength, why waste yourself at the Black Gate as a mere sentinel? Join my master's forces instead. Embrace darkness and eternity."
Torrent's charge slowed as more Orcs threw themselves beneath his hooves, their bodies creating obstacles of flesh and bone. Tarnes narrowed his eyes, studying Black Hand while his mind calculated the most efficient way to end this confrontation. He didn't waste breath on a response.
Black Hand wasn't genuinely attempting to recruit an enemy. He was buying time, waiting for reinforcements he knew were coming. The commotion of their battle would surely attract his subordinates, [The Tower] and [The Hammer], who were positioned at other ambush sites. Soon they would arrive to tip the odds in his favor.
Originally, Black Hand had planned to use Talion as a sacrifice for the dark ritual that would summon and bind an Elven lord's soul. Now this mysterious warrior seemed like a far more suitable offering for such purposes.
While Black Hand plotted Tarnes's death, the wizard had already switched weapons. His Pike vanished, replaced by a blade even more suited for clearing large numbers of enemies than Mohgwyn's Sacred Spear.
The [Sacred Relic Sword] materialized in his grip.
Unlike Mohgwyn's Sacred Spear, which required prayers to the Formless Mother before activation, the Sacred Relic Sword needed only magical energy. While the spear excelled at surprise attacks against unaware enemies, this golden blade was perfect for situations with too many foes pressing from all sides.
The dual-helix golden greatsword that had once been part of the Elden Beast felt familiar in Tarnes's hands. He channeled magical power into the weapon's core, watching as golden radiance began to build along its edges like captured sunlight.
Black Hand squinted at the sword blazing with otherworldly light. Fear, an emotion he hadn't experienced since pledging himself to Sauron, suddenly crawled up his spine like ice-cold fingers. His dead heart seemed to constrict as if gripped by an invisible fist.
The next moment, Black Hand's vision filled with blinding radiance. Even the dark aura constantly emanating from his cursed armor dissipated like smoke before a hurricane.
Night became day as brilliant golden flame waves erupted across the battlefield. The conflagration was so intense that even the rangers standing watch on the Black Gate's distant walls could see the wasteland illuminated as bright as noon.
The Sacred Relic Sword housed the concentrated gold of ages past. When its wielder activated the [Wave of Gold] Ash of War, golden tsunamis spread forward in a massive fan pattern, sweeping away everything in their path.
The defenders on the fortress walls watched in stunned amazement as wave after wave of Orcs were driven from their hiding places, exposed in the golden radiance before their bodies crumbled to ash. Their screams echoed across the wasteland like the cries of damned souls.
The golden torrent engulfed Black Hand while also freezing [The Tower] and [The Hammer] in their tracks. Both pale servants of darkness felt terror grip their hearts, but seductive whispers seemed to slither through their minds, compelling them to continue leading their Orc armies forward despite their fear.
Tarnes didn't stop after unleashing the first wave. He swung the Sacred Relic Sword left, right, and behind him in quick succession, ensuring no enemies could escape or flank his position.
This was where the Sacred Relic Sword differed from Mohgwyn's Sacred Spear. The [Wave of Gold] could only be directed in one direction per cast, unlike the spear's ability to affect all surrounding enemies simultaneously.
Tarnes patted Torrent's neck, signaling the spirit steed to halt. He drew out his spirit vessel and began absorbing the souls of countless dead Orcs scattered across the now-quiet battlefield, the device humming with accumulated spiritual energy.
As for Black Hand, while Tarnes doubted the servant of darkness could survive such an assault, he walked toward the man's last known position. If by some chance Black Hand still drew breath, a few more strikes would remedy that situation.
However, Torrent had taken only a few steps when the mount suddenly stopped, snorting uneasily. At the same moment, Melina's hand settled on Tarnes's shoulder armor, her voice carrying worry like morning mist.
"There's something much more powerful than that human ahead."
Tarnes gently patted the hand resting on his shoulder. "Mm, I see her."
Though the golden radiance of [Wave of Gold] had faded, Tarnes's [Starlight] spell continued to cast azure illumination across their surroundings. In that ethereal light, he could see the black-haired female who had materialized ahead of them like a phantom.
She wore gossamer black fabric that barely covered her essential areas and stood taller than even the most statuesque Elf Tarnes had ever encountered. Her otherworldly beauty carried an edge of predatory hunger that made his instincts scream warnings.
Black Hand lay wrapped in circles of white spider silk, his unconscious form deposited to one side like discarded prey.
The female's eyes flashed with wariness before she spoke in a voice like honey mixed with poison. "I know this lackey of Sauron has provoked mighty you, but he still has a mission that must be completed. He cannot die here now. Could you let him finish his task before killing him? I promise to personally deliver him to you intact afterward for whatever fate you choose."
Tarnes raised an eyebrow, his grip tightening slightly on the Sacred Relic Sword's hilt. "Who are you?"
The beautiful and decidedly non-human female smiled with seductive sweetness that somehow made her seem even more dangerous. "You may call me Shelob."