The stone floor in the subterranean chamber of *Zhar-Gij* rumbled softly as the hidden door to the ancient passage slid open.
The pitch-black darkness shrouding the tunnel was instantly dispelled by the warm, silver glow of crystal torches carried by the vanguard.
Arthur led the way.
Behind him, fifty Heavy Shield Knights and fifty archers under the command of Arandhir and Elmir moved without making a sound.
Their footsteps were muffled by muddy earth and the cold air flowing from the depths of the Trollshaws hills.
The underground tunnel was a masterpiece of ancient Khazad stonemasonry.
Its high, vaulted walls were supported by massive granite pillars carved with protective runes.
Though abandoned for centuries, the air inside remained surprisingly fresh—hidden ventilation shafts connected to the cliffside constantly drew in the crisp night air.
“How much further do we need to travel beneath the earth, Boran?” Arandhir whispered, eyeing the ceiling draped in frozen, dead giant cobwebs.
“Three miles north,” Boran answered quietly, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.
“This passage cuts directly beneath Skull Root and ascends into the wine cellar at the lowest foundation of Cameth Brin.”
For nearly two hours, the silent column traversed the belly of the earth.
The ice-blue gleam of Arthur’s sword shone softly, guiding their every step through stone intersections until the path began to slope steeply upward.
Carved spiral stone steps led them toward a thick, double-bolted iron gate.
Above it hung the rusted emblem of the stone crown of Rhudaur.
Arthur raised his hand, signaling the entire force to halt and douse most of the torches.
From beyond the gaps in the iron gate came the raucous, guttural cursing in Black Speech, the clinking of bronze goblets, and the wild howls of Orcs feasting on roasted meat.
“Dozens of drunken Orcs in the storage room,” Elmir whispered, peering through the upper gap.
“But the true danger lies above.
The outer gate is crawling with catapult guards and a bell tower.”
Arthur pressed his palm against the iron gate.
A bitter cold radiated from his fingers, freezing the rusted hinges until they became as brittle as glass.
With a single, effortless push of his shoulder, the frozen hinges shattered without a loud clang.
The secret door swung open slowly, revealing the dim, red glow of wall torches in the lower chambers of Cameth Brin.
“Elmir, take your archers through the hidden gallery toward the bell tower.
Do not let them sound the alarm,” Arthur commanded in a tone of absolute coldness.
“Boran, lead my men to seal the lower stairs and secure the dungeons.
The rest of you, with me to the Great Hall!”
The battle erupted like thunder bursting from the depths of the earth.
Four Orc sentries guarding the cellar died instantly—Elmir’s *Lebethron* arrows pierced their throats before a single scream could escape.
The knights surged up the spiral staircase, sweeping through the levels of Cameth Brin that had once been the pride of Rhudaur.
Rotting grain, Warg heads mounted on walls, and piles of human bones bore witness to the utter savagery of the place under the rule of the Gundabad Orcs.
In the vast Great Hall of the bastion, stained with blood, the Orc Captain of Gundabad—a towering, one-eyed giant named *Gorgol*—was raging before a massive bonfire.
“You cowards!” Gorgol roared, swinging a spiked iron mace that splintered a heavy wooden table to kindling. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
“The Men at Amon Sûl wouldn’t dare scale our northern cliffs!
Anyone who approaches the outer gate will be crushed by our stone-throwers!”
“They do not need to scale your cliffs, foul creature,” a cold, echoing voice interrupted Gorgol’s tirade.
The carved oak doors on the southern side of the hall burst inward.
King Arthur stepped through, his ice sword drawn across his chest.
Behind him, a line of knights formed a wall of steel shields, while the archer drew their bows from the upper gallery.
“How…
how did you get in?!” Gorgol shrieked in wild desperation.
“Tower guards!
Crush them!”
From the balcony above, Elmir appeared, tossing the severed heads of the two stone-thrower guards onto the filthy marble floor.
“Your tower has fallen, Orc,” Elmir declared coldly.
“Slaughter them all!
Leave none alive!” Gorgol roared hysterically.
More than three hundred Gundabad Orcs inside the fortress complex surged into the Great Hall from every corridor.
A wave of black steel and jagged scimitars crashed against Arthur’s line like a tide of death.
“Shield wall!
Hold!” Arandhir shouted.
*CLANG!*
The initial impact was devastating.
The shield wall shook violently beneath the weight of hundreds of surging Orcs.
From behind the steel barriers, long spears thrust forward with deadly precision, piercing chests and throats.
Simultaneously, the archers on the balcony rained down a relentless volley, decimating the rear ranks attempting to flank the line.
Amidst the chaos, Arthur moved like a spectre of ice.
His blade radiated a surging, freezing aura of blue light.
Every sweep of his sword sliced through black iron armor like paper, leaving frozen wounds that instantly halted the flow of blood and life.
Three veteran Gundabad orc charged Arthur together with double-bitted axes.
Arthur leapt lightly, spinning in mid-air, and swept his blade in a ring of silver-blue light.
*FZZZZT!*
The three Orcs froze in mid-stride.
Their bodies stood rigid in attacking poses before shattering into pieces as they hit the stone floor.
Seeing his forces slaughtered, Gorgol grinned savagely.
The massive weapon swung horizontally, smashing three heavy shields aside.
“I’ll crush your skull, King of Men!” Gorgol screamed, leaping high and bringing his mace down straight toward Arthur’s head.
Arthur did not yield a single step.
Raising his sword vertically, he met the crashing iron mace with a flawless parry.
*BOOM!*
The shockwave of ice and raw iron extinguished the wall torches.
The marble floor cracked beneath Arthur’s boots, yet the ice blade in his hands did not tremble.
Gorgol’s single eye widened in shock as his weapon was halted.
Before the Orc Captain could pull back, Arthur twisted his blade, severing the chain of the iron mace, and thrust the tip of his sword straight through Gorgol’s steel chestplate.
Absolute zero cold surged from the ice blade, freezing Gorgol’s internal organs in seconds.
Frosty air billowed from the monster’s mouth as his heart ceased to beat.
“Cameth Brin is cleansed,” Arthur whispered coldly, withdrawing his blade.
The giant Orc Captain fell to his knees, then collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
Panic seized the remaining Gundabad Orcs.
They fled toward the outer gate—only to be met by Arandhir’s line of spears locking down every exit.
The clash turned into a complete purge.
Within an hour, not a single creature of darkness remained alive inside the fortress.
As the first light of dawn broke over the eastern horizon, silence reclaimed the peak of *Cameth Brin*.
Morning mist drifted low over the massive stone cliffs once feared by travelers in the northern Trollshaws.
The black banner bearing the Gundabad skull was torn down from the main tower and cast into the abyss.
In its place, the silver banner of the Star of Elendil and the Ice Sword was raised high above the tallest tower of Cameth Brin, snapping proudly in the crisp morning breeze.
Boran stood on the outer balcony, gazing at the vast northern valley stretching below, now free from the shadow of darkness.
The Chieftain’s eyes glistened with tears.
“The crown of Rhudaur has returned…” Boran whispered, his voice trembling.
“Our ancestors can finally rest in peace.”
Arthur stepped beside the Chieftain, sheathing his sword as its energy hummed softly into dormancy.
“Cameth Brin is no longer a den of darkness,” Arthur declared firmly, his voice echoing across the northern hills.
“This place now stands as the *Northern Bastion of the Realm*—a stronghold ensuring no shadow from Angmar or Gundabad shall ever touch our people again.”
Arandhir approached and gave a formal salute.
“The underground passages are fully secured, Your Majesty,” Arandhir reported.
“Zhar-Gij in the east and Cameth Brin in the north are now seamlessly connected in secret.
Our supply lines and troop movements across the Trollshaws are impenetrable.”
Arthur looked out toward the distant peaks of the Misty Mountains.
A new dawn had arrived, and the rising Realm of Aetherion now held an unyielding grip over all of eastern Eriador.