Sud Sicanna

[Saeren]

Sud Sicanna lay where four great Trade roads of Harad met, its position both defined and perpetuated by its great oasis of clear water, which in the desert, was valued more greatly than gold, flocks , or mens lives.

Thus is had thrived, a long time, as long , in fact, as the first Men who dared to settle this land.
For Harad did have wealth, spices, gold, opals, silver, marble, and trade was the lifeblood of any kingdom.
Of course Haradwaith proper, the name which northerners gave to all the southern lands, was tribal, plagued by intercinine wars, vendettas, fueds, and partly by the fact that if you imprisoned two Haradhrim together they would invariably end up killing each other, for they were a hot blooded people. Their leaders were Emirs, Tribal Sheikhs, Pasha's and warlords, many in a constant state of war with each other.

But the Trade cities thrived, for every-one needed them. And it was here, long ago, Saeren had chosen to make his home.
The rich of Sud Sicanna, the merchant princes, made their palaces around the oaisis, with the old town shut away behind high, guarded walls.
As long ago as the first age, Saeren had dipped his long slender fingers into trade, gold, spice, slavery, mines, ships, and thus he had become indecently rich .
The palace indeed looked like a sybarites paradise, until one saw who owned it. The severity of his black clothes, the frugality of his food, the toned, tanned and muscled body, with its tribal tatoos, the fiercly intelligent amber gold eyes, and felt his sense of a warriors power and the mind which moved behind it.

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[Lebennen]

The tall half-elf entered the room and bowed,
' Aran-nin? How did it go? ' He asked in atone both of respect and easiness.

Matters were different with him of course, his childhood, his youth, his life after it, matured, had never had anything beautiful and glorious in it , Uldors great Easterling encampment had been brutal, dirty, and savage. When he had first seen Saeren, he did not need any-one to tell him this person was unhuman: beautiful, dangerous, urbane, sophisticated, all in black, graceful, deadly, with a mind which seared through ones own like a beam of cutting light, an energy and force and magnetic charm about him that could be so brilliantly cruel. Lebennen had seen the contempt - which Saeren did not bother to hide - in his dealings with Uldor . Morgoth needed Uldor, needed Saeren to general the unruly, unweildy savages, and so he did it, killing far more in training than even Sauron deemed acceptable.

''You are of a different metal, pen-neth'' Had been Saerens first words to him, looking down at him, for then Lebennen had not attained his full growth, with those luminous, analytical eyes, taking his chin in his hand. then he had said, casually, over his wide shoulder, to Uldor, squat, swarthy, brutish, in his skins and furs. ' This one I will take and train. '

Lebennen heard, without resentment, the murmurs of Uldors cheifs and captains. '' He wants your pretty son, lord, to geld him no doubt, turn him into a woman, '' and other remarks, but his face had remained calm, but for the fire that lit his eyes , for little he cared what he was wanted for as long as it would take him from this place, with its mud streets, its dirty tents, open ditches of human waste, the stench of it, and sweat and meat roasting.
The only thing he had seen up til then, that was beautiful, had been his mother, who faded, but not before she told him of the Eldar, - he remembered her night-black hair and white skin and the eyes of a pale striking grey .

And Uldor, because of who Saeren was, could not object, although his flat face empurpled, his small, slanting eyes black with anger, for despite the boys mothering, he was bidding fair to become a mighty warrior, there was more strength and speed there than in the Easterlings, no matter how slim and fair-faced he was.

And Saeren, it seemed, was only amused by the muttered comments, he had turned , in a swirl of the black velvet cloak, which smelled of Orris Root and Sandlewood. ( although then Lebennen did not know that, all he knew was that it smelled rich, opulent, )

' Come, boy, ' he had said, as he strode towards his great black stallion.

And that had been the beginning of his life, Lebennen thought, as he watched his lords face.

[Saeren]

Saeren made a gesture with one hand,a rocking motion of long fingers.
'' Interesting, my Lebennen , '' he indicated to his Lieutenant to serve himself with wine.
" No point in rushing things, is there, '' he stretched out his long , black booted legs and tipped back his hair.
'' You know.. I am still floating on ecstatcy, - Sauron is gone, '' he murmured, smiling like a big cat. '' Ah, Eru, I wish I could have seen his face at the last. ''

[Lebennen]

" Did he not call you there? To Barad Dur " Lebennen had been with the Haradhrim at the Pelennor, recieving a serious wound from a blasted blonde haired elf, which he meant to repay one day, it had rendered his right arm useless for a time, and he had almost been squashed flat by two rampaging Mumakil. Not one of his more succesful campaigns, but then the whole thing had been a debacle at the end. But he had also been delighted at Saurons demise. Despite being chosen by Saeren when he was a youth, not even Saeren could protect him from the whims of Morgoth and Sauron, who kept a close eye on Saeren and all he did.

[Saeren]

" He did, pulled me back to Barad Dur, but not to the Chamber of the Eye, " Saeren replied, " It is good that so much of his mind and attention was fixed on that damned ring, I was a supremely unethusiastic hunter of the wretched thing, " he put his hands behind his head. " In fact I was probably one of the few who honestly would not have wanted it had it come pierced to the navel of Luthien Tinuviel. I know why he created it, I still think it was his most stupid act, - as indeed, it proved, "

[Lebennen]

'' As indeed it proved, '' Lebennen murmured, he had allowed his thoughts to drift for a moment, he had tried to get to Mordor, to Saeren, but with his injury, with trying to keep those men he commanded from hurtling pel-mell into retreat and ignominous defeat, he had been unable to do so. '' I felt him diem, '' he said.

[Saeren]

'' Any-one whom he touched felt him die, '' his voice changed, became charged with the feral hate which he had always felt for his sire. '' I do not think anything has ever afforded me so much pleasure as that moment ''

[Lebennen]

'' Nothing , Aran-nin? No, well perhaps not, '' he agreed, with a small smile. '' And I was not certain of you for a time, either, there was too much confusion, and an utter rout, ''

[Saeren]

'' Considering I have been caught in the destruction of barad Dur twice... I reall did wonder if I was back in the second Age for a moment, '' Saeren murmured, as he recalled it.

When Sauron became aware that the Ring was in Orodruin, his mental call had ripped into his sons mind, he had turned to vanish to Orodruin, and been caught in the titanic blast of destruction. Hurled far away, every bone broken but knitting into health, stunned by the destruction of his father, he had started walking into the East.
On the second night he had heard the raucous sound of orc voices and followed them to a scene of flaming wagons and dead bodies, only one wagon remaining and one grizzled old wagoneer weilding a sword. The Orcs were scattered and badly armed, with wounds themsleves, and Saeren , weaponless, had scooped up a fallen blade and charged into them. It was over in a very short time. he checked the bodies and turned to the man.
' Supply train? ' he asked, in the tongue of Rhun, for the man had the deep set uptilted eyes of that race.
Yes , the man had replied, they were for the army, but he had seen only racing stragglers, and the sky roared with blackness to the south west. Then the Orcs had fallen upon them.
The man had a waggon of wine barrels, undoubtedly, this was why his wagon had not been set afire.
' The Dark Lord is vanquished, you may as well turn back, ' Saeren climbed into the wagon.
' yes, lord, ' the man said hoarsly, ' there is a flagon of wine under the seat . '
Saeren pictured the mans face as a blade sliced his throat, but he surpressed it, he was feeling, for the first time in his life, the taste of freedom. Of possibilities....
He reached down for the wine, and saw a pair of dark eyes looking at him from the rear of the waggon,
' My grandaughter, lord, ' the driver said, as he started the oxen off.
' Your eyes are red with fire, ' She informed Saeren.
' Annoy me child and I shall tear off your head, '
' That's a bad thing to say, ' she said, with complete disbelief in her voice. She had , after all seen him kill the orcs, which even Saurons mortal allies loathed.
' there are copper goblets beside the seat, lord, ' the old man said.
tar found one, broke the wax seal on the flagon and tried the wine, he thought army ration wine would be thin and sour, and was pleasantly surprised. The taste was rich and mellow.
' Why are your eyes red? Are you a God? ' The girl asked.
' I am not feeling Godlike right now, ' he muttered.
' can you do miracles? can you make the blind see? Can you bring the dead to life? Do you know why the ox dosn't need to clean it's bottom? '
Saeren drained the goblet and refilled it. the man scrambled up to the driving seat and hushed her.
' Shh child, '
' if he's a god why dosn't he know about ox's bottoms? '
' I give up, ' Saeren said, ' why does an ox not need to clean it's bottom? '
' It has two bowels, one inner, one outer, the inner one pushes out and.... and '
' Deposits, ' said her grandfather.
' yes, deposits the droppings. Then it draws back inside, so there is no mess. '
' A fact I shall carry with me for eternity, ' Said Saeren.
' So,' continued the child, ' can you bring the dead to life? '
My talent is reather the reverse, ' he said, sipping the wine and savouring the taste on his tongue. He knew he was lucky to be alive.
' What is reverse, grandfather? ' The child asked.
' Hush Shori, this Lord is a great warrior, he protected us from the orc scum, climb back into the waggon, and play with your toys, ' He said apologetically, to Saeren. ' She is chattering because she was terrified, lord, ' he did not know who Saeren was, but he had also seen the red fire in his eyes.
' They do that, ' Saeren agreed, the child was shivering, he picked up a folded wool blanket.
' No-one will attack you when I am here, ' he said, and sat down with his legs over the tail flap, to watch the rear.
The girl clutched at his boot, once shiny, now scarred and filthy with mud and ash and dust. Tears streaked her face. ' Go to sleep, ' he said, and touched her mind with power, and she leaned against him, her eyes closed. he pulled the wool blanket over her, and looked out, eyes and ears alert.
Slowly, the moon rose into ragged clouds.

Children liked him. they always had. Which was strange, considering he loathed them.

[Lebennen]

When Lebennen had heard the familiar touch of his lords mind in his, he had felt relief. He felt no niggling disappointment that Saeren had survived , he was absolutely Saerens and had been for a long time. They had decided, while things developed, in the north of Middle Earth, to come south, to these cities of spices and gold, to these deserts and oases.
'' you were extremely fortunate, aran-nin '' he nodded.

[Saeren]

'' Yes, the valar must have been watching out for me, '' he said, dust-dry. '' Call in the dancing girls, Lebennen, I could use a little entertainment, '' he lounged back in the silk pillows.

[Lebennen]

Lebennen went and spoke to the Chief Eunuch, and within minutes four young women in the almost transparent attire and jingling jewelry of dancers entered, with musicians playing pipes , tambours and drums, as sinuous as snakes , they danced, as the men lay back and watched.

[Saeren]

Saeren held up a hand to stop the dance and selected two of them, Lebennen might have the others if he chose, allowing them to trail him like puppies, he left the room.

[Saeren]

The man was buried up to his neck, the sand packed tightly around him. Ants crawled on his face and the sun beat down on his head. He heard the sound of an approaching horse, but could not turn.
' A pox on you and all your tribe! ' he shouted.
Then he heard some-one dismount and a merciful shadow fell across him. Glancing up he saw standing before him a tall figure in black leather vest, breeches and riding boots. He could not see the face, the sun haloed his head like an aura.

' I am seeking the tents on the Tendjin nomads, ' He said.
The buried man spat an ant from his mouth. ' Good for you! ' He said, ' Why tell me? You think I have been left here as a signpost? '
' I was contemplating digging you out, '
' I shouldn't bother, the dunes behind us are alive with those bastard nomads. They would not take too kindly to your intrusion.. '
' How many are they? ' Asked the black clad man, crouching down.
' Thousands of the cursed camel-lovers, who knows? they all look the same to me! '
The man lifted a leather canteen and the buried one drank greedily.
' Which tribe are you? '
' I am Oban of the Desert Hawk, '

The other nodded, he knew all about the tribal fighting in Harad, which was one reason why Sauron could never wield them all together, or at least had not tried too, which his son had always considered an error. The Tendjin nomads were wild, vicious and hated every other tribe, they worshiped, it was said, only Shalli, the Spirit of Death.
' So how did you fall victim? '
' Horse broke a leg, shame, a good beast with a lions heart, then they jumped me '
' I think I will dig you free, '
' Not a wise move! I may be forced to kill you, '

The man gave a low laugh and sat down , cross-legged. Now he could be seen clearly, arms bare to the shoulders, head uncovered against the merciless sun. He had a face out of legend, not tribal, not Haradhrim. Oban never used the word beautiful with regard to men, only horses, swords and women, but this face was beautiful. It was not gentle though, and not soft, it was, he thought, suddenly wanting to bury deeper in the ant-infested sand, not even human. The eyes glowed a luminous coin gold, allied to the wide shoulders, long legs, narrow hips, the aura intensified to something very dangerous.
Saeren rose and came back to him. He walked with all the killing grace of a warrior born.
' Tell me where the nearest Tendjin tents lie, ' he murmured, and began digging the man out. Tattoos swirled down his arms, and vanished under the leather tunic, taut muscles stretched and bunched and then he caught Oban under the armpits and dragged him out.

Oban brushed sand off his clothes. ' I .. have decided not to kill you, ' he said.
' You show great wisdom, ' Saeren said gravely .' Now, lead me. '
' I owe you my life , stranger, but Oban is not a fool! If you walk into the Tendjins it is they who will kill you, not I ! '
' Nevertheless, ' The eyes darkened changed, blue black, then into black, the pupils becoming fire in unfathomable ebony. ' You will lead me. I seek warriors. '

Oban stumbled back, ' Desert demon! ' he howled, he was weaponless, but still reached for where his swords would be
' You cannot take my soul! My ancestors will guard it! '

' Fool indeed, I do not want your soul. What the hell would I do with it? I am Saeren, called the Dark Prince, ruler of Sud Sicanna and Boshiva Dar. And I seek the Tendjins, ' he went to his horse, and mounted fluidly. ' Now come! ' His eyes were gold again, his voice compelling, a command in it which made Oban begin walking before he could stop himself.

' You are the Dark Lords son? The one who has taken control of Dar? ' Oban had already heard tales of this one, and suddenly , the desire for revenge against the Tendjin strong in him, he desired to go with the Dark Prince, into their encampment, - and see what he would do to them.

' I am. Now lead on, '


Oban yelled. He lost his footing and rolled down the steep lee of a dune, then came to his feet, howling, slapping at his head as if attacked by a swarm of bees, running in circles and cursing.

Saeren skidded down the sand and backhanded him across the face. ' Stop it you fool, you are not on fire. '

' I'm burning! ' Screamed Oban.

' Touch your hair, your beard, you idiot, the fire is not touching you, it is protecting you, or the Tendjin will stick us as full of arrows as a porcupine, '

Gingerly, Oban with his face screwed up, pawed at his small beard, patted his head. Fire limned him, like a torch, but then he opened his eyes wide.

' Ai! Why is it not burning me, Dark One? '

' Because I am not letting it, and I wish to give the Tendjin something to think about, now come on, ' he hauled Oban back up the sand-dune effortlessly.
Before them the Dune Sea stretched like motionless waves under a blasting son, yet it was in this region, Oban said, the Tendjin were encamped, indeed Saeren could feel them watching.

Oban walked silently, like a deep desert man, his footing good on the sand, but he cursed and mumbled, he believed Saeren was who he said he was and had ample proof, but also believed him as mad as a sun struck beetle. Where were his armies, his dark servants, the Black Riders who came with waves of fear, why was there just one man, casually riding, unbothered by the searing sun?

It occurred to him to wonder if there was only one man because that was all Saeren needed.

' that cut, ' Saeren looked down from the saddle, looking at the deep scar on the mans bicep. ' Made by a straight blade. You have fought the Men of the North? ''
Oban made the sign against evil. '' Aye, Dark One, and my grand-sire was at the cursed battle of the Pelennor, long ago. ' He cursed the northmen and the terrible King who had lead the armies of the dead, the fair horsemen who had smashed the lines of the leaguer of Minas Tirith.
'' Sauron would have given your people nothing, ' Saeren said flatly. ' But I am not Sauron, there is a land here to conquer, richer in gold and gems than Gondor, I will take it, and men will prosper, ''

'' Not the Tendjin, lord, they drink the blood of their enemies, they live only for war and death ''

' So do I, sometimes, ' the calm words were accompanied by a dazzling smile. '' I am making a race of warriors more skilled, more lethal than the world has ever seen, and with them I will do more than Sauron ever did, ''

Oban made the sign again. he felt whatever happened, he was going to die.

[Saeren]

******

'' he is coming, '' The old Shamen opened his eyes, the pupils were huge, black, from the drug fumes.
His Lord , a young, slim man with a haughty, fine boned face, leaned forward, the ceaseless wind ruffled the tent overhead.
'' Who is coming? ''
'' The Dark Light, Son of the the Dark , the one you cannot fight, and the one who will lead his armies across the south and east of the world. ''

Harib Kha leaned back. '' The Dark Prince. Who took Boshiva Dar? '' He rose. '' The one we cannot fight? Pha! The Tendjin will fight any-one! I do not fear him! Shalli is with us ''

The Shamen muttered. '' If you follow him you will have great riches, if you do not, death will be swift, for you, your sons, your wives. That I have seen '

' Shalli's Tits, Shamen I will not have this! Scouts have reported seeing one man on a horse heading this way, he was with another but he left him, One man! '' he clenched his fist around his tulwar. '' I do not care who he is, I believe I can handle one man! Tell me how to best him, to kill him! ''

' I have looked into the Paths of the Mist and seen the futures, in only one do you survive, Lord of the Sands, '' the Shamen said, '' If you join him. ''

The Prince cursed viley. '' I follow no perfumed bum-boy spewed from the loins of Mordor, Shamen! ''

'' No-one would ask you to, ' Saeren said behind him, the flame that accompanied his arrival whipping the Princes white robes. '' But you will follow me. Or I will make of your bones drinking cups, and the Tendjin will be no more, ''

Harib Kha's tulwars hissed forth, to meet in a glimmer, two curved swords, they were everywhere, stopping each stroke, each riposte and cut and parry. Over them, luminous gold eyes met his, smiling.
'' I will lead the Tendjin to wealth and to glory, '' The melodious voice said, '' To cities of gold and spices, or I will destroy you. One by one! A nice easy choice for you, Lord of the Sands ''
Darkness dropped over the tent like a hand, the silver swords shone, the gilt eyes blazed.
Harib Kha, cursing, fell back. '' I do not fear death! We worship death! '' he hissed, but his eyes took in everything about this one. His Shamen was old, and very wise, he had taught Harib much, since he had killed his father and elder brother to lead the tribe, and for years before that.
The shamen told him that when a man sees another, they instinctively judge him as either threat or prey. because a man is a hunting animal, a killing animal. Carnivores. A deadly breed. When men looked at Saeren they saw , as Harib did, the ultimate threat - a man who did not understand compromise. He broke all rules, or rather, for him, there were no rules at all, or only his own. He had come here alone with an absolute certainty that he needed no-one else.

' Then let us talk about worshiping death. And glory, ' Saeren said. '' And tell me about this '' Shalli '' - I think I may have heard of him. '' He thought, suddenly, of the cold north, of Angmar, and its ruler, Morsereg - he seemed to fit the notion of Shalli, rather well....