[The Barrow-Wight]

The murder spent most of the cold late autumn morning flying over the ancient ruins of the elvish city, but no bird could be persuaded to drop down among the broken walls and towers. Even with the sun shining brightly, shadows black as midnight still lurked in gaping windows and doorways and beneath fallen arches. A frosty wind rustled long-dead leaves in a constant whisper that left even the bravest crow wishing to leave the haunted place.

“There is no one here,” a young messenger reported to Akaaw, darting up to where the great bird hovered. “This place is absolutely deserted, so much so that we have not seen any living thing in all of our searches.”

“And what of our missing captain?” asked the creban chief. “Has Pip’kha discerned his wherabouts yet?”

“No sir,” answered the bird nervously.

Akaaw turned and asked his ancient advisor, “How can he have nothing to report on the loss of one of our brightest young leaders? Surely someone has seen him today.”

He turned back to the messenger with the intent of conveying a message his master, but he saw Pip’kha himself winging toward him from the north.

“Akaaw!” he cried. “We have word of the missing bird, and it is not good. A straggler caught up with the murder this morning and stated that he had seen several dozen birds arrowing south earlier today. Brak was at their lead.”

“I would expect him to be flying home now,” Akaaw smiled, “though he will find it is no longer his home once we return.”

Pip’kha cleared his throat and muttered, “Kadwyr was also among them.”

“What?” croaked Akaaw. “Kadwyr with Brak? Is this treachery? And at what purpose?”

Fingot croaked for attention. “There can be only one answer to the riddle of Kadwyr’s current course. He has found what you seek, Akaaw, and has defected to Brak’s group in order to bring the news to the White Hand before you do.”

Akaaw’s face at first grew grim, and for a while he said nothing. But after a while an anger began to build in his eyes, and the crebain around him backed away. Soon he grew livid with rage and began shouting orders to his messengers to gather all of his captains to him. Without waiting for a response, he beat his great wings and turned southwards, gaining speed so quickly that he reached the fringe of the murder that still circled over Ost-in-Edhel, pulling them as he passed like a great magnet into a dark arrow pointing southward.