The Death-Bringers proved to be excellent additions to our company, for not only were they fierce warriors, but they knew the lands of Near Harad even better than Hadar's men. They saved us from many a dead end and quicksand pit, and before long we were far into the deserts of Harad.

   "The tribes that dwell here are almost certainly loyal to Sauron. And if they aren't, they'll still be hostile," Nadow said as he pulled his steed up beside me.

   "Aye, bloodthirsty savages they are. Just as soon run you through as look at you," Hadar said with a laugh.

   "Doesn't your tribe live in this part of Harad?" I asked skeptically.

   "Yes indeed! Where do you think I got my fierce manner from?" He gave me a roguish grin and flexed his biceps comically.

   "That's precisely the word I'd use to describe you... Fierce," I said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

   After a moment of silence Hadar spoke up again, having regained his pride. "There are seven major tribes in this desert. Mine is the largest, and last I heard six of the seven were unified under the Red Eye, and most of the smaller tribes followed suit."
  
   "Is yours free still?" I asked.

   "No. Mine was the first to join Mordor. We have a long standing feud with the Gondorians, just like your people. My tribe in particular, however, lost many princes to Westerling blades. Every conflict against our age-old foe has seen the Black Scorpion of Ramdah take the field with the Serpent of Harad."

   "Then which one isn't loyal to Sauron?"

   "That would be the Hateri. They're about five mumaki."

   "Five what? What's that mean?" I asked in confusion. Though Haradrim traders and slavers frequented Rhûn, I knew very little of their culture. Despite their close ties with us, they still seemed a foreign and strange people.

   "Ah, sorry. Haradrim speak. I'm so used to being around my people that I forgot you and pointy-ears over there aren't Haradrim," he said as he jerked a thumb back at Caledorn, who looked absolutely miserable at the back of the cavalcade. It was painfully apparent that he didn't like the hot weather, and Hadar's comment made him roll his eyes in annoyance.

   "A tribe's size is measured by the number of Mumakil they possess. The Hateri have five of them. That's a small number as far as the other tribes go," he added. "The Ramdah have a herd of nineteen bulls, and many more cows and calves."

   "It was rare to even see one Mumak in Rhun, I'm sure five would be quite a sight!" I exclaimed.

   Nadow snorted in derision. "Mumakil aren't worth the trouble. We forsook using them many years ago, when we stopped living a nomadic lifestyle."

"Well aren't you just posh and superior," Hadar replied sarcastically, then turned back to me. "If trained well, a full grown Mumak can carry several tons of goods. You can't beat that."

"I'm sure they eat more than their fair share though," I said with a laugh.

"True, but it's worth it whe-" Hadar stopped mid-sentence and glanced around furtively.

"We're being watched," He said, reaching for his spear.

"You're right," Caledorn replied as he reigned his horse in next to us.

"Let me guess... You know exactly who it is," I said with sarcasm.

"No, I don't... But whoever, or whatever it is has been following us for two days now," he replied, not catching my sarcasm.

"They've done an excellent job hiding if my scouts haven't seen them," Hadar said. "Perhaps we should try to catch them."

"They're far too wary for that, I think. They haven't done anything aggressive so far, so at the worst they're spying on us."

I narrowed my eyes. "The whole point of taking this way was so we wouldn't be seen..."

"I'll find out who it is," Caledorn said.

"Very well, but be stealthy about it. We don't want to spook whoever it is into returning word to their master, if they have one." Something about the whole situation gave me an uncomfortable feeling. I couldn't pinpoint it, but something wasn't right.

The dark-clad elf nodded and rode ahead for a ways before disappearing over a distant dune.

I turned to look at Hadar and Nadow. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

Just then a high-pitched screech echoed through the air from the direction Caledorn had went.

"Orcs!" I cried as I spurred my horse into a gallop.

"Men, to arms!" Nadow shouted to his knights. They formed a wedge behind us and we charged up the dune. When we reached the top we saw a battle unfolding.

Caledorn was surrounded by at least thirty orcs, many of which rode large, warglike creatures. A dozen or so orcs already lay dead, their dark blood soaking into the sand beneath them. Caledorn saw us approaching and shouted out to us.

"It was an ambush! Don't let any escape!"

I drew my scimitar and let out a cry as I charged toward the nearest orc. As I rode past him, I swung my weapon, sending his head flying into the air. Behind me Nadow's warriors made contact with the other orcs, and the impact of their charge killed many of the enemy immediately.

"More, over there!" Nadow yelled as he pointed toward a nearby dune. Many more mounted orcs poured over it, too many to count.

"Make them come to us!" I replied as I beheaded another orc. Nadow rode past and skewered one with his spear before turning his horse around to face me.

"There are too many! They outnumber us two to one! And the creatures they ride are fierce, our horses are afraid of them!"

"They're caragors, I've seen them before!" I shouted back over the din of the battle. They were covered from head to toe in thick, leathery skin, and their powerful jaws were able to bite through thick bone with ease. I had seen them in arenas before. Often, one would hold its ground against a dozen trained warriors. "Retreat to the top of that dune, they won't be able to gain momentum for a charge!"

I spurred my horse away as Nadow yelled out the retreat orders. More caragor riders continued to appear over the dune in a seemingly endless stream. Caledorn was still in the midst of them all, cutting them down in swaths. I rode to his side and began to help him, but soon it became clear that even he was getting exhausted from the fighting.

"Fall back, I'll cover your retreat!" I yelled to him. He nodded and after fighting through several more orcs, we broke free from them. Caledorn urged his horse into a gallop and rode up the dune toward the rest of our forces, but as I tried to follow I was cut off by a massive orc on a white caragor.

"Looks like you're all alone, Princeling," the orc growled, practically spitting the last word. His caragor growled menacingly in anticipation.

"So you know who I am! Good! I haven't had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before..." I replied with as much nerve as I could muster.

"Well know that it's Warchief Urgz that's gonna kill ya!" The orc roared as he swung his crooked sword at me. I deflected the blow, and countered with a slash that made the caragor he rode jump back. It gave me the opening I needed to ride forward up the dune. I made my way toward our group, but I heard the Warchief howl out in anger behind me and give pursuit. My horse, being of elvish stock, wasn't used to the sand, whereas it quickly became evident that the caragors were. The orc was gaining on me quickly, and there was little I could do to make my horse go faster. I could see that the rest of my men were surrounded at the top of the dune and were fighting for their lives. Even if I did make it up there wasn't much of a chance of survival...

With this thought in mind, I spun my horse around to face the Warchief, which visibly surprised him. His mount stopped abrubtly, and he let out a raspy laugh.

"Yer a brave one! But also foolish!" He said with an evil grin. Those turned out to be his last words.

Suddenly out of nowhere a silver arrow pierced his skull, and his smirk faded as he fell from his Caragor with a thump. The beast had no time to react either, for two more silver arrows silenced it as well. I spun around to look in the direction the arrows had come from.

To my surprise there were at least seventy warriors coming over a nearby dune, wearing strange armor and riding large beasts the like of which I had never seen before. Upon each of these strange warriors was a mask forged in the likeness of a face, and these were either wrapped by a turban covering the remainder of their heads or attached to tall conical helms. A deep, booming horn echoed through the air as they charged recklessly into the Orc ranks. I made eye contact with Nadow, who looked equally as confused but he responded quickly, ordering his and Hadar's warriors to ride to the strange new army's aid. This proved to be unnecessary however, for the orcs seemed terrified of the strangers and their massive mounts, and they began to flee with cries of despair. The strangers didn't let them go, giving chase and cutting them down as they fled. Our men cheered at the sight, but I was more reserved. Just because these newcomers were enemies of the orcs didn't mean they were friends of ours by any means.

Nadow and Caledorn rode quickly to my side, followed by the rest of the surviving warriors.

"Who are they?" I asked, hoping one of them would know.

"I don't know," Caledorn and Nadow said in unison.

"They're wraiths!" One of Nadow's Knights shouted as he made his way to the front of the ranks. "Omens of evil they are. There are legends in Harad about them." Murmurs of agreement came from the other knights.

Nadow seemed to remember something also. "Among our people, we speak of beings called Bleak Riders. They are rarely seen, only in times of hardship and danger. And when they are, death and suffering follows in their wake."

I looked out into the desert, where any sign of the orcs or the strange riders had disappeared. I then surveyed the dead orcs and caragors on the ground. "If this is the death they leave behind, I'm not completely objecting to it," I said skeptically. "These Bleak Riders, are they Men?"

"No m'lord," the knight who had first mentioned them said. "They are beings from another world. They cannot be killed."

"So the legends say," Nadow said doubtfully. "They can't exist, it's impossible. And if they did, they'd have killed us too. They're no friends of the Haradrim. Our mothers use them to scare children into obeying."

"It's a load of rubbish," Hadar scoffed. "I don't believe in spectral riders."

"Well I think we shall have our questions answered soon," Caledorn said as he pointed a black gloved finger off into the desert.

The riders were coming back.