Tarnes lowered his staff, watching the massive spider in the distance spill streams of sickly green ichor as she fled frantically across the wasteland without so much as a backward glance. He shrugged with casual indifference.
You were the one who told me not to use the Sacred Relic Sword. Why are you running away now?
But damn, this giant spider sure can move fast.
Within mere seconds, Shelob had vanished completely into the darkness beyond his magical illumination. Tarnes sighed, patting Torrent's neck as he guided his mount toward the severed spider legs scattered across the scorched earth where Comet Azur had struck.
Though Shelob had managed to escape with her life, she hadn't emerged unscathed from their encounter. If her reflexes hadn't been sharp enough to dodge at the crucial moment, it wouldn't have been just a portion of her left side vaporized by the azure torrent. That ugly, menacing spider head would have disappeared along with it.
After all, Tarnes had aimed to kill from the very beginning. Otherwise, he never would have unleashed a sorcery of Comet Azur's devastating caliber.
Still, he suspected that even with her successful retreat, Shelob's injuries would prevent the giant spider from traveling very far. Once he finished dealing with the Orc forces converging on his position, he'd have plenty of time to hunt her down.
He dismounted and collected Shelob's severed limbs as trophies, storing them carefully within his dimensional storage. Though he couldn't immediately think of any practical applications for giant spider legs, Tarnes reasoned that body parts from an evil deity's offspring must have some inherent value, even if only as unique memorabilia.
Perhaps if he presented these gruesome prizes to Thorin's group of Dwarves, they could forge them into some form of exotic equipment or weapons. The Dwarven smiths were renowned for their ability to work with unusual materials.
After securing the spider legs, Melina's voice carried a note of urgency. "Tarnes, more Orcs are surrounding us."
He nodded grimly and quickly remounted, spurring Torrent toward the charred remains where Black Hand had met his end.
The human servant of Sauron who had worn the menacing black armor now lay completely incinerated by the Sacred Relic Sword's Wave of Gold. Only twisted, blackened metal remained on the barren ground, along with his dulled and shattered blade.
What a waste.
Tarnes gazed at the armor and accessories that had lost all practical value and sighed with disappointment. Though he remained ignorant of whatever mission Shelob had mentioned that Black Hand needed to complete, the man's death had rendered such concerns irrelevant.
If necessary, he could relay the events of this encounter to Gandalf and let the ancient wizard, with his vast knowledge of Middle-earth's secrets, puzzle out the true nature of Black Hand's mysterious "mission."
Despite their ruined condition, he dismounted and collected Black Hand's gauntlets and broken sword, storing them as mementos of his victory over this particularly formidable opponent.
Tarnes then checked his spirit vessel, noting that the first container had absorbed only one-third of its soul capacity. Far from full, but he wasn't concerned about the shortage. As Melina had warned, more enemies were already closing in rapidly.
The thunderous footfalls of running Orcs reached his ears, accompanied by their labored breathing and the metallic scraping of crude armor pieces grinding against each other. Using the azure radiance from his [Starlight] sorcery, Melina studied the shadowy figures approaching from multiple directions and frowned with concern.
"Tarnes, we made too much commotion. The number of enemies coming is excessive."
He brought a Flask of Cerulean Tears to his lips, replenishing the magical energy expended during his use of the Sacred Relic Sword and Comet Azur. "Mm, I know. Let's harvest some more souls before these Orcs can surround us, then retreat to the Black Gate."
As he spoke, Tarnes raised the Sacred Relic Sword toward the charging Orc horde and swung the golden blade with practiced precision.
But this time, the Golden Tree's flame waves encountered resistance. Another source of fire, more sinister and burning with dark orange-red intensity, split his attack down the middle. Through the gap stepped a pale-skinned human clad in black armor identical to Black Hand's, his eyes blazing with the same supernatural flames. If not for his obviously different facial features and the massive single-handed war hammer that radiated dangerous energy, Tarnes might have assumed Black Hand possessed some method of resurrection.
The newcomer swung his war hammer in sweeping arcs, sending waves of orange-red fire both left and right, systematically dismantling the Wave of Gold's effectiveness.
Though the remaining golden flames still affected the charging Orc horde, the killing power was dramatically reduced compared to his earlier assault on Black Hand's forces.
This weapon is no ordinary tool. He must be [The Hammer] that Black Hand mentioned.
Tarnes frowned deeply, studying the double-handed war hammer that emanated such troubling energy. His instincts warned him that even his perfectly enhanced weapons might not prove superior in direct confrontation with that particular armament.
The Sacred Relic Sword in his grip transformed back into a staff while he drained another Flask of Cerulean Tears to restore his magical reserves completely.
Glancing at the nearly empty container, he reflected on his increasingly frequent reliance on sorcery. Next time, he should prepare additional elixirs specifically for high-consumption spellcasting and readjust the balance between healing and mana potions.
During his time in the Lands Between, Tarnes had usually depended on raw physical prowess to overwhelm enemies in direct combat. Sorceries and incantations served primarily as self-enhancement tools, useful but not essential.
Behind him, Melina also fixed her gaze on the approaching figure, or more precisely, on his weapon, before delivering her warning. "That warhammer is extremely dangerous."
Clearly, she shared Tarnes's assessment. The human himself posed minimal threat; only the armament he wielded warranted serious concern.
"Human wizard, my master wishes to see you."
The pale warrior raised his massive hammer and spoke only these words, his voice carrying across the battlefield with supernatural clarity.
Want to see me? Tell it to my sorcery.
Tarnes rolled his eyes internally while maintaining his combat stance, already preparing to unleash Comet Azur against this new threat.
What happened next defied all expectations. Just as the azure magical torrent erupted toward its target, the hammer-wielding human had already drawn a dagger from his belt. Without the slightest hesitation, he drew the blade across his own throat in one swift motion.
"?"
After a moment of shocked confusion, wariness flooded Tarnes's mind. He increased his magical output dramatically, directing the full force of Comet Azur at the freshly created corpse.
He wasn't stupid. When someone declared their master wanted a meeting and immediately committed suicide, only one explanation made sense: summoning that very master to this location.
Sure enough, before the human's body had even struck the ground, a massive eye composed of writhing flames materialized behind the fallen form. A black-armored steel giant approximately four meters in height emerged from the fiery portal, casually grasping the human's war hammer in one massive gauntlet. What had been a double-handed weapon for a mortal man became a single-handed tool in the giant's grip.
The newcomer swung the weapon to intercept Comet Azur's torrent, generating even more vigorous orange-red flames that formed a barrier of fire. Though unable to completely negate the magical assault, the wall of flames prevented Comet Azur from advancing any further.
"..."
Tarnes's expression grew grave as he ceased his wasteful magical expenditure, draining the last drops from his Flask of Cerulean Tears while weapons he favored for close combat materialized in his hands: a greatsword and shield.
He studied the menacing black steel giant and asked the question whose answer he already suspected. "Sauron?"
The towering figure remained silent, but the subsequent roar of winged beasts from above and the sight of Nazgûl respectfully positioning themselves behind their master after dismounting from their fell steeds provided all the confirmation Tarnes needed.
[Dark Lord] Sauron had arrived.