[Warcraft Total War AAR] My Dread Lady

[Maltacus]

They will have to use every resource, down to the last squirrel...

The story has no real spoiling information like tags or otherwise when posted here. So I can't help but be very curious - having read this far, how do you think this is going to end up for the protagonists?

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXIX. Fencing and Flexing

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

For the fourth time, Cyndia’s squadron turned around to give battle.

Ghouls.

Eight, nine, twelve, thirteen, fourteen of them. A mindlessly bloodthirsty pack that crawled and skittered across the woodland with no concern for tactics or cover. Against a squadron of dark rangers.

It was an insult.

Not because ghouls could never win, for with enough numbers it would at some point only be a question of time, and no matter how good you were there would always be some corner or angle in the field that you were unable to watch.

But they were vermin. Slobbering mockeries of whoever they had once been and not even some sort of twisted mirror of their former selves like the rangers and similar reasonably sentient undead were. They were not even worthy of the black arrows they received.

Why couldn’t they all just leave her the hell alone?

”Wait!” Kalira called out. ”Wait!”

Thirty steps left. They had all nocked their arrows and picked their targets.

Twenty-five steps left. Twenty.

”Now!” Kalira barked and five ghouls fell to a point-blank volley and impeded the ones behind, then five more before the rangers threw their bows aside and drew swords and daggers. The lead ghoul crashed to the side in two pieces after jumping for Kalira and the next threw itself at Cyndia. It was pathetic. Graceless. She cut off one hideous clawed hand as she twisted to the side and let the foul creature lunge at emptiness. She hacked at the rotting head and half severed it before the ghoul turned around and reached for her with tormented and unintelligible gibber on it’s rotting lips. Cyndia kicked it down in pure disgust and finished the job when it tried again to get up.

With the ghoul rush broken, the rangers advanced. A single arrow rarely brought down these creatures but a good hit crippled their movement and made them easy prey for the squadron.

”Nara, Lenara, retrieve arrows!” Kalira did not waste any time. ”Vel’, scout right, Cyndia ahead!”

Cyndia retrieved her bow and took up her position to cover her squadmates looking for their arrows and any still moving ghoul in the gory pile. She could hear the nervous whinnying from behind and hoped that Westley had been able to keep Nick and Vicky out of sight.

It was two days now. Two days of almost constant movement, of too little to drink and nothing to eat. How long could Westley keep this up, or his horses? The previous weeks hadn’t exactly made him fat either.

”We can’t keep this up!” Velonara gave voice to what Cyndia was thinking about. ”There’s gonna be another pack here any moment!”

”Then split if you want to!” Cyndia barked back. She was tired of this conversation and she was tired of this poisonous question hanging in the air between them ever since the first pack caught up. No matter how little they rested, no matter the fact that Westley had tied himself to the saddle and let Cyndia lead both horses when he became too exhausted to safely ride through the broken terrain, they could not match the speed of restless and tireless Scourge and they all knew it.

”Quiet, both of you!” Kalira snapped at them. ”I am not breaking up this squad and I am damn well not losing you again!”

”I won’t give up on Westley!” Kalira had not suggested it but right now Cyndia felt that hanging unspoken in the air whenever they talked.

”I won’t give up you!” Velonara retorted.

”Our orders are to warn the Dark Lady of the approaching Scourge.” Kalira spoke more evenly, not resigned but like someone stating and facing a very uncomfortable fact.

”That’s the idea with this assignment. Our orders are to escort Westley. Are we going to leave another one of us behind now?” Cyndia regretted her biting words the moment they had left her mouth. Kalira bit down hard and her face set in stone, but she didn’t reply. Velonara however, did.

”He is not one of us!”

”He is mine!”

”He rescued you, I’ll give him that. What’s the bloody point of it if you die now because of him?!”

”We are all dead already! What the point of anything?!”

Cyndia didn’t want this. She didn’t want to meet her end arguing with her very own ranging partner and squadron commander and leaving them hurt the last thing she did. Why did all her words turn out so badly? Why had words become so hard, so wrong, lately?

”Scourge!”

And was it too much to ask to be left alone for one miserable ing hour?!

Cyndia turned to watch a new filthy fistful of ghouls, and skeletons this time, emerge from another direction and bear down on her squadron. It was still her squadron. Hers. She refused to be angry with Velonara. She was Cyndia’s ranging partner and she was entitled to want her in one piece no matter the cost. She was also entitled to be a blight-hearted jerk because it was Cyndia who decided that and no one else!

Words were hard enough without being interrupted every damned time you tried to find the right ones!

Cyndia ignored her bow and arrows, instead drawing her sword and taking her dagger in the other hand.

Could they just leave her alone?!

She started to run. She was picking up speed, jumping from step to step like a shadow through the moss and rocks.

Could they just leave her squadron alone?!

She cleaved the first hapless skeleton in her way in two halves, screaming.

Could they just leave her stableboy the bloody hell alone?!

Cyndia’s world flickered in red and darkness pooled and smoked and writhed around her vision. Rage bubbled inside her and demanded to be let out, out, out…

Cyndia shifted into her banshee form and Wailed.

There were no ears to register the horrible sound on those bare skulls, but the sheer physical force of the Wail was enough to make skeletons stagger and ghouls writhe in pain that their primitive understanding of their surroundings could not fully comprehend. Cyndia’s shadowy cloak flowed back inside her and she returned to her own self – that was how she viewed her physical form – with a spiteful snarl replacing her Wail. She waded into the Scourge mob, hacking and kicking apart all within her reach.

There were so many of them.

”HANDS OFF!” Kalira’s furious voice was right behind her, and something flew past Cyndia’s ear. It could actually very well have been a ghoul’s hands. When she glanced to her side Kalira’s look held the promise of the talking-to – no, shouting-to – of all times but her lieutenant had her back. Kalira always had.

This was all so wrong.

Why couldn’t the Scourge leave them alone?!

Arrows swept past as Velonara, Nara and Lenara caught up and the Scourge was pressed back. For the moment. The forest was filling with screams and stampeding feet coming steadily closer.

Velonara walked up to Cyndia’s side. She was looking at Cyndia and the trampled and churned ground around her and the piles of Scourge corpses in almost shock.

Cyndia put her dagger away and reached tentatively for her ranging partner. Velonara grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard.

”To whatever end, big sister.” It was simple, and unimaginative, and it was Velonara’s tenderest term of affection for her. Then Velonara shouted out defiantly. ”Last one to die is a forest troll!”

”To whatever end, little sister.”

Cyndia found that at least, at least she got some few words right.

Run, Westley. Run, stableboy.

A line of dozens of undead emerged from the depths of the forest. Even a couple of towering abominations crashed through, breaking branches and small trees in their way.

”Is that all you have?” Kalira spat with contempt. ”Rangers, loose!”

All three Naras shot as quickly as they ever had. It was truly astonishing. The air seemed to fill with black arrows, dozens of them…

And…fireballs?

Where the Scourge clustered, the flaming orbs shattered their lines and volleys of arrows rained down on everything that still moved. Dozens became scattered groups of several, then few, and then none.

Behind their lone squadron, dark ranger after dark ranger hurried forward with their bows raised. Amora, Vorel and Anya’s squadrons.

”We found them!”

Found… Had they found Westley too?! And in how many pieces? Had any of the Scourge come from another direction and…

Cyndia sprinted through the immeasurably welcome cloaked lines that she would have to relish later. She snatched her bow back up on the way and jumped and climbed and ran across the heavily wooded hill where they had hidden Westley and Nick and Vicky.

He was still there. Slumping against a tree, too tired to stand properly and with both reins in a tight grip even though his eyes were half closed. But around him were Forsaken dreadguards with their swords out and pointed at him.

Cyndia did not slow down. She landed in their midst and kicked the closest heavily armoured guard viciously to the ground.

”Back off!” she snarled at the four of them. ”Finders-keepers!”

”Is there a problem?” A familiar very icily cold voice inquired. The Dark Lady was neither amused nor impressed. ”Because I recall specifically describing how my lost ranger squadron included one living human and two horses. Is that somehow suddenly such a common sight in these parts that you feel justified mistaking these ones for our enemies? Do tell.”

”Dark Lady, he, he is…”

”Close to fainting.” Sylvanas interrupted the dreadguard. ”You are lucky to have escaped with your life.” Her tone was positively corrosive. ”Now get out of my sight and pray that my mage is feeling generous enough not to let the four of you walk home.”

Behind Sylvanas appeared her cute little goldy-locked human girl, Jaina Proudmoore. But in a dark ranger’s uniform and an ornate white staff in her hand, and looking a good deal more confident than when Cyndia had last seen her.

Proudmoore reached for something by her belt and brought out a tin cup while striding swiftly to Westley. She held her hand over it for a moment and something glimmered briefly.

”Master Westley? Here, can you drink?” Proudmoore asked him. Westley nodded weakly and she helped him hold the cup steady.

A small part of Cyndia, that she didn’t really want to acknowledge, felt a small bit of pride when he looked up and silently begged her to hold the reins of Nick and Vicky. He breathed out deeply when she did and rubbed his stiff shoulder.

”Pleased to see you…here and stuff…Lady Jaina…” Westley mumbled. ”I see they let you…out for a walk…”

”Oh, I don’t need to stay in the dungeon or have those cuffs any more.” Proudmoore happily told him. ”After I called down a few hail storms and lightning on the Scourge at the Undercity the Forsaken don’t think I’m so dangerous anymore and let me be a ranger mage.”

”Aaalright…sounds nice…I suppose…”

”It’s really great. Now I can cast spells pretty much freely so long as I don’t cause too much trouble, like when I first arrived and splashed that city guard with cold water.”

”No…’course…not…”

”I have tried to be on my best behaviour, honestly. I only froze Kitala’s feet to the ground once. And then I made just a small ice patch when me and Clea were running. I haven’t tried polymorphing anyone yet though, I’m going to save that for some really special occasion – come on, we have a portal back to the Undercity to catch!”

Cyndia bent down and put her arm under Westley’s shoulders. While he took a moment to regain his balance Cyndia’s eyes fell on Sylvanas. The Dark Lady was leaning against a tree and looking fondly at her happily prattling new ranger mage while a small smile tugged at her lips.



***



Anya rolled to the side and dodged behind a withered bush while she drew upon the shadows of her banshee form. The light grey sky was not making it easy to remain undetected for long even without accounting for the dangers of detection that had previously never been an issue in their training. Whenever you least expected it an errant puff of wind, unseasonal snow, or a cloud of sparkling glittery arcane dust could descend your way and reveal your position. Or worse, like unnatural water splashing out of thin air and nefarious patches of ice suddenly materialising on the ground.

She had never had so much fun training as a dark ranger.

No. More. Bracelets.

Jaina was free.

Jaina was wondrous.

Just being close to her made everything feel better and more comforting. Like you were slowly warming and thawing after a long time of being cold.

It had been special after the long battle, when they had rested against the hard stone and allowed themselves to feel all the things that must be put away until afterwards. For all the ways undeath had changed them, that was one of the few that remained unaltered. They still felt fear, and heaps of it, and for good reason. They still forced it down and did what they were meant to anyway. They still had to let it catch up with them or Anya was sure that they would all go mad.

With Jaina, with Jaina’s hand cradling her, it wasn’t as bad as it should be. Anya let her fear of losing Sylvanas have free reign, her dread of going back to the existence as Scourge, back to…to that, which she dared not let herself think of. How terribly empty everything would be if she lost any of her squadmates, or Velonara, and how Anya knew she would break if she had to actually spend a last arrow for one of her sisters.

And it was alright. Because Sylvanas was not lost to her and she was standing guard and keeping watch over them all and then Anya could feel safe. And Jaina was there and as long as she was, the Scourge would not take Anya or any of them back. With Jaina close, Anya could let herself be afraid. With Jaina close, Anya felt a little less like the broken pieces of the Anya that was.

She was becoming distracted from the exercise at hand. They were practicing stealth and tracking, by hiding in plain daylight and attempting to counter each other’s attempts. It had turned out to be surprisingly even. While the undead elves could remain completely silent on the spot their way of hiding was imperfect in good light. They wrapped darkness and shadows around them rather than turn completely invisible. Jaina however, did just that with her magic but she was not yet as skilled at staying and moving silently and she still had her breathing and her heartbeat that could be heard from close by.

Her very precious heartbeat.

Jaina still slept in the warded dungeon because they had no other room furnished for her, but she had her mage staff next to her bed and no restricting bracelets hanging on the wall. And her tent and bedrolls were now reinforced by blankets and furs from Hearthglen so that Jaina slept in a reassuring nest of warm things.

After the battle, after they had made her dinner and Jaina had eaten, the rest had all remained seated around her as she slowly fell asleep. The day had thankfully made her more exhausted than unsettled. Then Anya had curled up beside her, as close as she dared without disturbing Jaina’s rest, and Lyana followed and lied down to hold Anya from behind like when they were alive and slept together in the field for warmth. On Jaina’s other side, Kitala and Clea had done the same with Clea stroking her ranging partner’s ears as usual. Anya had closed her eyes and listened to Jaina and pretended that she was alive again and was hearing the heartbeat of all of her squadron around her.

Then the next day they had rescued Velonara’s squadron, or maybe they had rescued the pursuing Scourge more like because Cyndia and Kalira seemed to have some sort of competition about who could hack them apart most ferociously. And now they were all here in the Undercity and could go outside when they wanted, and things were as right as they could be.

Stealth exercises had not been something Anya had originally planned for the day, but as a squadron commander she should act responsibly and turn the escalating prank wars into something productive. Now that Jaina was free to cast her magic as she liked, and not compelled to expend all of her mana on oceanic currents or siege defences, she had a lot of dark ranger mischief to catch up with.

Their bows and quivers were spread out at a safe distance together with Jaina’s staff, for when you least expected it an archmage could appear to splash your face with a conjured stream of cold water. Then she was gone in a flash only to appear again and pinch Kitala’s nose (but not too hard) and blow all their ranger cloaks up over their heads with a hastily summoned wind. The rangers had quickly spread out to search for Jaina but it was easier said than done when clouds of glittery dust covered the air at random, and some sort of bright blue arcane raven dove at them while cawing madly and eventually blowing up in a puff of sparks and white smoke.

So now they were playing tag instead, in two teams. At the moment Anya, Clea and Lyana were hiding from Jaina and Kitala who tried to avoid detection while they searched for them. Humans, it had turned out, had such strange expressions in games. Instead of being the lynx when you were chasing someone, you were ”it”. Not ”the many-armed sea monster” or something else that Anya supposed might come after Kul Tirans and other islanders playing tag. Just ”it”. Weird.

And to suddenly disappear without a word or trace from someone was called to ”ghost” them. That made a bit more sense but the typical ghost-story ghost after all announced it’s presence in some spooky manner so it was still a bit odd. Maybe it referred to leaving the person haunted by the memory of your impolite departure? Since Anya was at her best at stealth she was thereby, apparently, ”such a ghoster” when she frustrated the opposing team by vanishing from under their noses. Anya didn’t like the idea of disappearing from someone, but she resolved that she would at least be a nice ghoster who always appeared again if she had to disappear. It was an expression undeniably well suited for the Forsaken in any case.

Speaking of appearing, the last she saw of Jaina had been some bending grass ten steps to her left. Was she still there? Anya couldn’t be quite sure. Jaina was getting slyer every time they trained and her impressive variety of magical mischief could lead anyone to either wonder how she had been able to make time for proper studies, or seriously question the curriculum of Dalaran’s archmages.

Suddenly something touched the ground next to her. A tossed stick. Obviously meant to distract, but where had it come from?

Another stick hit the ground close to Anya and she could see that it had been thrown from behind her, but then it was already too late.

Something hurtled through the air and landed on her, making itself and Anya tumble onto the ground and disrupting her focus on shadowing herself.

”Woof!” Velonara happily greeted her. ”Fetch, Anya!”

Anya crawled out from under the heap of her best friend and noted from the sounds of high-pitched yells and laughter that her teammates had been discovered somewhere ahead of her and been forced to flee before swift ranger feet and archmage teleporting.

Velonara had not been alone, behind her were the rest of her squadron, Areiel and Westley who Cyndia kept referring to as her stableboy, trailing the two horses. They both seemed to have gotten surprisingly used to the presence of dark rangers, for which Anya had to commend them in that case, but it was Cyndia that kept closest to them.

”By all means, don’t let me interrupt!” Areiel called to Anya before she had time to wonder if she should summon her squadron to receive some task. ”You all seem to have so much fun.”

Anya brushed off the worst of dust and dirt from Velonara’s attack and saluted Areiel.

”Hello, Ranger Captain.”

”Hello, Ranger Lieutenant. Pray tell, what exactly is it that your squadron is currently exercising?”

”Stealth…” Anya answered in a small voice, uncomfortably aware of how Velonara had just – very literally – gotten the jump on her in a not so very discreet manner.

”Ah. I see. Stealth.” Areiel said perfectly even in a ’forgive my slowness, of course I see now how obvious it is’ tone. She managed to keep her face expressionless while at the same time being unmistakeably expressive as only Ranger Captain Areiel could.

Anya followed her gaze. Before her was a royal mess on the meadow they had chosen for their practice. Kitala and Lyana were wrestling on the ground, each of them shouting ’tag’ at the other and struggling to physically prevent the other from having the last word. Jaina was chasing Clea around the field using everything from splashing water to randomly appearing luminescent illusions to unbalance her quarry, with a few harmless but very loud fire spells thrown in too now that she was at it.

”Can’t we get a mage too?” Lenara asked out loud. ”It looks fun.”

”Is…this how ranger training is done now, Captain?” Kalira asked and sounded slightly bewildered.

”Yes, apparently it is.” This time, Areiel made no attempt to hide the fondness underneath her words.

”I need to go out more… Or less.”

”Lieutenant Eversong, would you please gather your squadron? We have a bit of a logistical issue to settle.”

Anya nodded and ran down to bring some order to the chaotic field.

Four rather dusty and muddy rangers soon presented themselves before Areiel and Jaina was blushing enough for the rest of them.

”Now, if I may pull you away from your feats of stealth and discretion for a moment, we need to decide some things about our stores.” the ranger captain begun as she looked them over with obvious amusement. ”Thanks to the shortcomings of our Scarlet neighbours we currently find ourselves in possession of bountiful winter stores that our living population will be in need of. Also thanks to said shortcomings our living population has recently quadrupled, with two charming members possessing quite the appetites.” Areiel cast a glance at Westley’s horses. ”Relatively speaking, this increase should make our fair capital one of the fastest growing cities of the living in all of Azeroth.”

Areiel remained Areiel.

”The Undercity was not carved out with granaries in mind. Anya, am I correct in assuming that most of the food is currently in the keep?”

”Yes. Lyana knows best what is where. So far we haven’t seen any rats about.”

”At least something useful out of the blight… How much of it would be to the taste of a horse?”

What did horses eat? Anya wasn’t very good with tame animals and what they needed. Horses simply ate what grew on the ground, right? And nothing grew around the Undercity…

”We have some amount of vegetables but I honestly have no idea how long they would last two horses. No grass or so…” Anya felt like she wasn’t of much help.

”Anya?” Lyana came to her assistance, like she often did with these things. ”There are actually some patches of fresh ground out in the woods here. They aren’t very obvious but if someone led animals there they could graze on it. But more importantly you both seem unaware of the fact that we actually have some bales of straw brought in from Hearthglen. I asked them to store it in the keep in case we would need it for insulation or something like that.”

Lyana always had everything in order and always made sure the rest of them had what they needed. How would Anya ever get by without her quartermaster?

”Then we donate those to our herd too.” Areiel concluded. ”Proudmoore, were you thinking of something?”

That was a bit of a moot question, because Jaina was always thinking about something except when she was sleeping.

”Yes, Ranger Captain. Conjuring food has never been my best field but I’ve been giving it some thought at times even if I haven’t been able to test anything before. The principles are the same no matter what you try to conjure, and so long as you can visualize what you try to create clearly enough a bun made of chopped carrots shouldn’t be much harder to make than a proper mana bun. It’s more of a matter of taste than anything that the majority of conjuration spells focuses on bread and pastries.”

”Hold up now, are you saying that instead of mana buns you could actually summon healthy and proper things to eat?” Lyana asked sternly.

”I haven’t tried it out, as I said.” Jaina answered a little defensively. ”It’s not guaranteed to work…”

”Then how about testing it right now? Captain?” Lyana pressed.

”Do you think you could make it work?” Areiel asked Jaina and sounded a little intrigued. ”It could be a very useful ability for you and us in a crisis.”

Jaina looked a little petulant but then looked like she did when she was thinking deeply of something. The conversation had drawn the attention of Velonaras’ squadron as well and they had come closer to form a half-circle behind Areiel.

Jaina’s eyes shone briefly and a mana bun flashed into being in her hand, or at least it looked like that. Jaina carefully broke it in two, watched it, and took a trying bite of one half that she chewed suspiciously.

”Well…it seems to have worked…” was Jaina’s unwilling verdict. She showed the product to Areiel and Anya. It looked like a mana bun but with something orange inside. ”I imagined a bun with carrot stuffing inside. It’s easier to stick closely to what you know well!” Jaina added as Anya and the rest of her squadron tried to keep themselves from laughing.

Jaina pointedly ignored them and gave one half to Westley.

”Ignoring these uncultured brigands, what do you think Master Westley?”

Very hesitantly, Westley smelled it and took a small bite. He chewed thoughtfully, then took one more.

”It…it tastes like carrots. It’s fresh. Good, I think.” Westley turned around. ”Vicky, what do you think of this?”

Vicky apparently approved of Jaina’s magical baking because she had taken a sniff and then swallowed the carrot bun before anyone had said another word. She sniffed around Westley’s hand for more of the same.

For all her apparent disapproval of the corruption of the mana bun recipe, Jaina looked absolutely delighted.

”Can I give the other half?” she asked eagerly. ”It’s Nicky and Vicky, right?”

”Nick and Vicky.” Westley corrected her but otherwise made no objection to Jaina approaching.

Whether driven by the scent, Westley’s reassurance or envy of Vicky, Nick reached forward to eat the second half out of Jaina’s hand. She smiled happily and stroked the horse down his nose, and looked so very adorable in Anya’s opinion.

”That looked like a success to my eyes.” Areiel concluded. ”Very good, then we’ll move this straw and some of the more mundane food to wherever you’d like to set yourself up, Master Westley, and in an emergency you will have to rely on the pride of Dalaranian cuisine. But hopefully not, as I understand it can quickly become an obsession.”

”It is not an obsession to recognize the merits of good baking.” Jaina retorted and looked dignified as she summoned one of the debated pastries. ”On the house, Master Westley. As a welcoming gift, now that you seem to be staying in the Undercity for some time.”

”Thanks.” He took a trying bite, then another, and then devoured the whole thing appreciatively. ”Really nice.”

”Hear that?!” Jaina almost shouted in triumph. ”Vindication! Mana buns! Are! Awesome! Nothing like icky fish soup, right?”

”I don’t know… I used to like fish soup. But we rarely had it.”

”Blasphemy of the highest order…” Jaina muttered. ”Heresy. Make sure to tell Lyana all about it, you will make her day.”



***



The Undercity’s arena was crowded today. Forsaken morale had truly soared after the Scourge’s siege – Jaina had decided to cheekily call it a siege so that it could be pointed out how it was the shortest and least successful siege in Lordaeron’s history – and the arena was filled to the brim with spectators and fenced off to form ten smaller squares for pairs to spar inside without getting in each other’s way overly much.

Jaina panted from one hour (most likely not, but it felt like that) of futile efforts and clutched the wooden practice sword tighter in her hand. She hadn’t been able to land a single decent blow on the aggravating elf in front of her, and neither had she been able to interrupt his downright infuriatingly civil conversation.

”Not too tight, Ranger Proudmoore, don’t let your arm tense and stiffen.” Irizadan advised in a perfectly pleasant and amicable tone. ”Now, where was I – ah, yes, the style of Hiewin Bloodflower fell out of fashion during a period of time about three centuries after his death, during which it was considered bad economy of movement and excessively dependant on open space. It was in a time when – mind your footwork – small blades dominated elven fencing and not until the…”

If Jaina had had a quill and a book she would have taken enough notes about elven swordfighting throughout the ages to write her own treatise of it, at the very least. Irizadan was armed with only his shield, while Jaina only had a sword, and from the start of their sparring session he had kept up his thorough lecture of the subject with blatant disregard for the fact that Jaina was trying her best to smash him bloody. Neither did he miss an opportunity to offer reminders and encouragement about her efforts, although Jaina noted to her dismay that the former centred on her form and the latter on her spirit.

She took the hilt in both hands and impatiently attempted to batter his shield aside. Irizadan surprised her by catching the blow right on his shield so that it reverberated through Jaina and made her arms shaky, while he finished his analysis of the merits of two-handed blades compared to one-handed.

”A solid blow, but don’t stop like that. Follow through with the movement or step back before your opponent retaliates.” Irizadan pointed out casually. Jaina tried instead to push him back with a kick at his shield but when she followed up with a wild stab at his side the former spellbreaker smoothly moved out of the way and took hold of the wooden weapon to pull Jaina along, and managed to wrest it out of her hands.

”Hey! That…counts as theft…I’m sure…” Jaina huffed and leaned down with her palm against her knees while catching her breath.

”Outrageous, to say the least.” Irizadan agreed. ”What times we live in…” he lamented primly as he gave her the practice sword back.

At that moment Kalira signalled for everyone to switch partners, using someone’s borrowed breastplate as a bell for that purpose.

”Nice work. Don’t forget to drink now just because we don’t.” Irizadan complimented her. ”I’m looking forward to continuing some other time.”

”What will it be about next time, ancient elven spear-fighting?” Jaina half muttered.

”Now actually, the heavy infantry of Quel’thalas made a rather interesting switch from spears to pikes and back again in the fourth century of the reign of king…” Irizadan smirked at her. His smile did however not quite reach the eyes, or rather it did but couldn’t quite chase away the perpetual sadness in them.

When Jaina had stocked up on water and moral support from her squadron, who unanimously agreed that while they all liked Irizadan he was the worst of all infuriatingly untouchable partners to train close combat with, Jaina found Areiel waiting for her with a wooden staff in her hand.

”Ready for another round, I hope?” the ranger captain greeted her cheerfully.

”Sure…er, should I have brought the practice sword, Ranger Captain?”

”No, I reckoned it was time you learned to use your favourite stick a little better now that you are allowed to spell it out for us again.” Areiel tossed the staff over before Jaina had time to even roll her eyes at the typical ranger captain pun.

”What about you?”

”Oh, I guess I’ll be casual for now. Now try to hit me. Think of me as your training dummy.” Areiel grinned.

Striking at someone on her own side who was unarmed was not something that came naturally to Jaina and her first swings were trying and hesitant. Areiel’s cheerful disposition and evident good mood did not exactly help to make you inclined to hit her.

”If you don’t ramp it up I’m gonna give you extra laps, Proudmoore. Stop coddling me! Some of us needs our exercise!” Areiel urged her on and Jaina quickened her swings and advanced on the dodging old elf. Or maybe Areiel counted as middle-aged, for being an elf. Unless being dead sort of disqualified you from counting as aged anything?

She had just driven Areiel into one of the corners when the ranger captain dodged a sweep to the side followed by Jaina trying to follow up with a downward returning strike. Before it had a chance to land, Areiel leapt forward underneath her half-raised arm, grabbed Jaina by the hips and spun around with her and sent her stumbling and staggering across the sand.

”Wooo! And away we gooo!” Areiel cheered. Jaina had the very dismaying association of a veteran elf ranger spinning a little girl around and throwing her into the air.

That did it! As if Irizadan’s insane sense of appropriate timing for academic lectures of elven military history was not enough, Jaina would not let Areiel get away with another round of treating her like a child of two! Decades or years be damned.

Jaina tightened her grip and advanced again with shorter and faster strikes from one direction and the other, hell-bent on connecting with a pale and scarred nose.

It was just that neither nose nor any other parts of Areiel were ever where they should be. Older though she may look and be, the ranger captain dodged every strike as if Jaina tried to hit running water instead. That was not the worst of it. Just like Irizadan, Areiel kept up a stream of pointers and encouragements, and worst of all she countered in the silliest ways possible.

Because it could not rightfully be called a counterattack when your opponent reached out to briefly pull at your ear, or jumped inside your guard to muss up your hair before dancing out of your reach again.

Jaina was becoming more and more convinced that today included some sort of plot by aggravating elves to annoy the newest dark ranger, while she tried to come up with a plan to catch Areiel. She stabbed forward with several jabs and when the elf sidestepped Jaina tracked her and made a sweep and trailed after Areiel’s movement, however at the price of not getting very much force behind that sweep. Areiel suddenly countered by grabbing hold of the staff and raising it, so that Jaina’s arms were pulled up with it before she could react.

”I got a fish on the hook! A Kul Tiran rainbow salmon, I say!”

Jaina dropped her grip of her staff and jumped forward to try and kick Areiel in the stomach, but she swept Jaina’s foot away with her own staff and pushed her just enough with the other end to make Jaina tumble forward onto the sand.

”It got away.” Areiel smiled and gave the staff back to Jaina. ”Try holding more to the middle and strike me with both ends”.

Jaina did that.

”Salmons…are…a sweetwater fish!” she huffed as she came at Areiel again. ”We don’t…have them in Kul Tiras!”

”No?” Areiel leapt out of the way and round Jaina. ”The islands seem to have one or two sweetwater mages at least.” She dodged a swing at her head. ”Sweet they are in any case. Maybe it was they who drank all the salmons’ water?”

”That…makes…no sense!” Jaina gasped while her frantic jabs were starting to get slower and slower. Areiel seized the advantage, and in a blink she was inside Jaina’s guard again.

”Boink!” the ranger captain said gleefully and poked at the tip of Jaina’s nose.

Jaina glared daggers in utter exasperation. Seriously? ’Boink’?

Could this sparring possibly become more embarrassing?

Well, stupid question. Of course it could.

Jaina slumped and let her arms hang down, exhausted as she was. She was looking down at her black ranger pants, then back up at Areiel with big misty eyes and an alarmed expression.

”M-m-miss Areiel…” Jaina stammered as pitifully as she could.

Areiel looked quizzically at her.

”I-I think I…” Jaina looked down again, shame-faced and squeezing her legs together. In the corner of her eye she could see Areiel stepping closer with her brow furrowed.

”What…”

WHAMM!

Jaina rose at once and brought her staff down the fastest and hardest she could on the ranger captain’s head.

”…managed to distract you.” Jaina finished her sentence as Areiel cried out and slowly collapsed in a groaning heap on the sand.

”OW! Belore-Tides-damned salmon-hopping ghoul-ers THAT HURT! OW!”she cursed while clutching the sore spot.

”But Miss Areiel!” Jaina gasped in pretended shock. ”You shouldn't say such nasty things in front of little me, should you?”

From the gathered spectators rose a wave of roaring laughter. Rangers whistled and Sylvanas was nonchalantly leaning against a fence post with her arms crossed and a particularly amused smirk on her face.

”Well, Ranger Captain, I dare say that you walked right into that one…” the Dark Lady commented.

Areiel only groaned in response. Jaina was starting to feel sorry for her. How hard had she hit her ranger captain? She knelt down and held out her hand and let cold air flow from it. When Areiel sighed and leaned into the stream, Jaina gently put her hand on the elf’s head and conjured ice along her palm.

”Does that help?”

”Yes, actually it does. Curious, isn’t it?” She smiled tiredly at Jaina. ”Thank you. Well done, Ranger Proudmoore. I won’t be hearing the end of this for weeks, that’s for sure…”



***



Jaina had thus far been able to familiarize herself with most parts of the Undercity and could find her way reasonably well, even though she never went alone so that it was less of an issue with her ever-present squadmates around her. But she had never been inside any Forsaken home until this day. Now Jaina and her rangers were standing outside a rickety door and she was more nervous than any time since the battle of the south gate. They had actually been invited somewhere. Voluntarily, from someone that had not previously been forced to become accustomed to Jaina’s presence. It was like meeting the family and relatives of a friend you did not know well.

”Courage, Jaina.” Clea whispered to her. ”If you can take on Scourge armies you can take on a Forsaken tea party. Except there isn’t any tea.”

”What if they don’t like me?” Jaina whispered back and both felt like, and imagined that she must sound, like she was an apprentice again and everything in Dalaran was new and unknown.

”Then they are morons.” Kitala determined. ”But I don’t think there’s much of a risk of that. I have a feeling we are going to meet some of the wiser parts of the Forsaken here.” she added cryptically.

Jaina tried her best to decipher what Kitala could have meant until her knock was answered and the door opened to reveal…

”Dark rangers!”

”Dak ranges!”

”Dak janges!”

Behind the wary frame of a Forsaken man in torn and frayed attire, several short shapes looked out with gleaming yellow eyes that peeked out of blankets and pieces of cloth they had wrapped themselves in.

”Hello Kitala.” All of him relaxed with relief when he saw who the visitors were. ”You’re quite expected.” Jaina could hear Kitala quickly whisper something and realised that of course Forsaken all across the city would be likely to expect every knock on the door to herald bad news when only days had passed since the city was stormed.

Kitala made a show of rising up and looking inside over his shoulder.

”I can’t see anything…” she scrounged up her face and looked across the room from side to side. ”This ranger squadron must be experts at camouflage..” she muttered while the seven balls of cloth on the floor giggled.

”Where could they have gone…” the man wondered out loud in a much merrier tone. ”I swear they were here just a moment ago…”

”This is our new ranger mage! She can conjure snowballs in summer and sail ships without any wind! And she’s really nice.” Kitala announced.

Jaina bowed flourishingly.

”Jaina Proudmoore. Ranger Bookworm and High Conjurer of Mana Buns.” she introduced herself.

”Eh, Loras from the West Gate, or something… Whatever is left of it nowadays.” he said a little awkwardly.

”Come on in!” Kitala dragged Jaina inside with her and the seven little rangers scrambled to hide deeper in the small dwelling.

It was a cramped place that Jaina came to understand was shared between what remained of three families who had fallen victim to the plague of undeath and subsequent slavery under the Lich King. They stuck together and tried to maintain or create a semblance of their previous life. It was very…Forsaken.

”When can we go upside again?” the children wanted to know. They had all been forced to stay underground since the Scourge appeared and it was boring, the rangers had to understand.

”When the Dark Lady says you can. We need to check around for Scourgies lying in wait so they can’t get you.” Clea explained. She was sitting with Mia and Gibbs in her lap, with Milly and Molly next to her, then Lyana with Des, then Theodora and Fred, Kitala and…

”Where is Anya?” Jaina asked.

”She…is watching the door.” Lyana answered with unusual hesitation. ”It’s alright. Nothing to worry about.”

But that of course made Jaina worry all the more. How could Anya, who was so kind and caring to others, not be with them now? There had to be something wrong with this.

”Do you want to see a snowfall?” Kitala asked everyone and smoothly managed to distract Jaina from further dwelling on Anya’s absence when seven pairs of yellow and three pairs of red eyes fixed on her. She raised her staff – which she didn’t need but the crystal would glow prettily – and waved her hand needlessly around and formed large starry snowflakes that silently floated down from the ceiling.

The children caught them in their hands and on their tongues, except Theodora who lacked one, and promptly demanded to see more casting from Jaina.

She reminded herself that it might be best to keep frost spells to a minimum. Not everybody were as understanding as dark rangers when it came to water on the floors.

Jaina wasn’t the most imaginative mage when it came to illusions and such, but she made a small star that hovered around the room and trailed many-coloured sparks and then a pretty decent fire-breathing pike that chased a trout through the air. The trout could stick it’s tongue out at the pursuer. Jaina considered it to be within acceptable artistic liberty.

Kitala did not neglect to give a detailed account of how Jaina had tricked Areiel, which her young audience found extremely entertaining. Jaina did not think her re-enacting of the scene and uncannily accurate impersoning of Jaina was completely necessary for the storytelling, though.

”Do you scratch Kitala behind the ears too?” Jaina countered impishly and elicited a handful of confused looks.

”Why would we do that?” asked Mia, who was the oldest.

”Because she likes it.” Jaina answered casually, as if talking about nothing in particular. ”She crawls into my lap all the time and wants her ears scratched, she’s really adorable.”

”What, like a kitty?” Mia asked sceptically.

”Yes, just like a kitty. Actually…” Jaina looked conspiratorially left and right and leaned closer to whisper out loud. ”…I think all these dark rangers are a little bit like cats. Maybe you should try scratching their ears and see if they purr?”

Mia nodded vigorously and the next moment her siblings and friends followed her in pouncing the closest ranger and drag her down to reach the long elven ears.

”Jaina!” Clea and Kitala complained in unison while Jaina looked the picture of innocence.

”That wasn’t much of a purr, though.” Jaina thought out loud. ”I think you need to try harder.” she suggested, and the children happily followed her advice.

”Frankly, you should count as just as much of a cat with how you jump on all the fishes we bring you!” Lyana struggled at the mercy of Des and Milly and Molly on either side.

”I thought you had me dubbed a seal?” Jaina pointed out, with reference to her swimming before they sailed out from Kalimdor.

”That too!”

Now that Jaina thought about it, a certain very high ranking – and very influential when it came to Jaina’s dreams lately – dark ranger seemed to be of the opinion that Jaina would make a rather good mouse too. She decided to exercise a bit of restraint about sharing that particular information with the rest of her squadron. A wise mouse knew not to reveal her position next to three red-eyed cats.



***



Sylvanas sat opposite Proudmoore at a small table in a small room in the barracks of the Undercity. Neither of them uttered a word and they were both concentrating on those that came through the badly fitted door to the adjoining room. The lacking precision of the construction at least made it easy to hear what was being said at a time like this.

”…and then you followed the road west of Andorhal north, is that right?” Sylvanas could hear Areiel asking from the other side. ”How many of you were there at that time?”

”All of us.” another voice answered. ”We all went that way. Wanted to stick together, you see?”

”Of course. And with you were Jorn, Deren, the Gren family of…seven, the Persons – Pearsons, sorry – of four…did I miss anyone?”

”N-no, I think that’s everyone.” There was a pause and Sylvanas wondered if the speaker was counting on her fingers. ”All fifteen of us.”

”Fourteen, surely? Unless I forgot someone?”

”No, fourteen. I’m sorry, I’m not so…”

There was some silence and Sylvanas imagined that Areiel would have waved away the apology. She could hear the slight scraping of chairs.

”Thank you for your time and assistance. Hopefully all your accounts can help us understand and anticipate the Scarlet Crusaders and better counter their attacks.”

Sylvanas remained silent until they heard Areiel and the other person leave.

”Any immediate impressions?”

Proudmoore gave it some thought and Sylvanas did not disturb her.

”She sounded nervous at times but I don’t think that’s indication of anything. Areiel is your ranger captain after all and coming to your military quarters to be questioned by her should be enough to make anyone nervous, if you don’t know her at least. And the thing about the numbers…sure, it was a mistake but everyone isn’t good at counting.”

Even if the way Proudmoore presented the points had a benign tint to it, Sylvanas agreed about her conclusions.

”I am of the same opinion, it is in itself not substantial enough to determine anything.” She browsed through several written notes on their table and handed one to Proudmoore to read through. ”This is the protocol from Areiel’s questioning of one other member of the alleged company, Jorn that you heard her mention.”

Proudmoore skimmed through it quickly without saying anything and then put the paper on the table to read it more thoroughly. Her mage’s hair fell down when she was leaning forward like that and she absently tried to tuck it away behind her small ears.

”It looks like it checks out. They travelled north too after regaining their free will and he mentions the same names…Deren, the Grens…”

Sylvanas remained silent when Proudmoore briefly looked up at her and her mage understood the cue to keep reading.

”They passed by Andorhal on their way where they…split up to avoid detection…” Her mage looked all crestfallen. ”Oh, no…”



***



It was ten days since the attack against the Undercity. Sylvanas’ Council of War was assembled in its entirety and several others had joined them, by far outnumbering the available chairs. She noted dryly that had they all been living, the air of the stacked council chamber would quickly have become very heavy. Now it only had to last one living member.

She was at the head of the table, as it happened with a direct view of the still not completely repaired opposite wall where she had thrown a certain demon not overly long ago. Hopefully no one would be distracted by the less than immaculate state of the walls.

Kalira had just concluded her report and impressions from her squadron’s ill-fated, if technically successful, scouting mission to the west and Sylvanas rose to continue.

”Kalira’s report adds to an overall picture of a broad Scourge offensive with spread out forces sweeping the western and possibly eastern territories around us and a concentrated push against the Undercity. This could be a coordinated movement or several independent ones, and it is also possible that the goals are something else than singularly hunting us down, for example to simply gather and Raise dead bodies all across the kingdom where there are still abundant amounts. The end result is largely the same.”

Since they begun, her mage had hardly taken her eyes off Sylvanas and she was watching with something of that odd glazed look she had exhibited on a few occasions earlier. Sylvanas briefly wondered if she should do something about it, as such naked fascination wasn’t very becoming for a head of state, but the louder part of herself thrived on Proudmoore’s attention and told her to enjoy the moment. If her little mage was so into her generalship she would damn well show her how it was done.

”The Scourge’s command structure is currently unknown. In the wake of Arthas’ departure it may be less coherent but the lich Kel’Thuzad is unaccounted for and could just as likely have remained somewhere in Lordaeron as followed his ruler to Northrend. The necromancy we have encountered so far is not consistent with one single powerful entity but rather covens of lesser ones working together. Until disproven, we will assume it is the latter. This will be vital to our plans.”

Sylvanas threw a quick, discreet glance down. Her own armour was polished to a sheen – courtesy of Anya, who was currently hiding somewhere in the large crowd – and everything was perfectly in place. Obviously, since she had worn ranger armour since before this kingdom existed. But she tightened the grip on her other hand behind her back and took the opportunity to flex her arms a little. It never hurt to project a bit of extra confidence at an important moment such as this. And maybe it would remind her mage not to fall behind on her archery practice.

”As we have all learned from painful lessons the Scourge can not be beaten through attrition in the conventional way. Everything hinges on neutralizing it’s necromantic capabilities to prevent them from replenishing their fallen numbers. Destroying the Scourge’s necromancers must therefore be the ultimate goal of all our field tactics. If that happens in many small encounters or one large battle is unimportant so long as we achieve our goal efficiently.”

Sylvanas maliciously envisioned Proudmoore on a battlefield with dark rangers in a ring around her and eyes glowing brightly.

”Until recently large scale battles were our weakest point. Now we possess both the means to pre-empt and to win them, as well as bypassing most defences of the fortified positions we encounter.”

The means in question blushed slightly.

”I intend to use her to the full.”

Sylvanas could admittedly have worded that differently.

”We will take advantage of our superiority in elite infantry and stealth and grind down the Scourge with one quick and decisive skirmish after the other while our main force keeps the enemy in check from a highly defensible position. In this manner we will sweep the territory closest to the Undercity and those who would hunt us shall become the hunted.”

Sylvanas glanced down at the beautifully drawn and painted maps on the table. It was one of the few fields where human art and culture truly excelled.

”We have among us excellent scouts in the rangers but can not take full advantage of their skills, due to the small stretch of territory under our control which renders an advance warning irrelevant when the enemy is spotted too close to the city for our people to evacuate the surface. Our immediate goal is therefore to retake enough ground for our own forces to delay and harass an approaching army and ensure that the Undercity is not caught unawares.”

She could see those arguments being met with approval from the gathered ranger commanders. The current limitations imposed on their craft were a personal insult to the lot of them.

”The time to strike is now. The Scarlets are reeling from the burning and their loss of Hearthglen, and winter is coming which will consign the majority of them to their strongholds. Our forces have meanwhile been strengthened by that victory and the successful defence of the capital while the Scourge has sustained severe and likely unexpected losses.”

She finally spotted Anya. Her nigh invisible lieutenant watched her from the shadows between Baron Frostfel and Anthis Sunbow. Very intensely. What kind of view did she have from there? Sylvanas shifted her stance slightly. It was Anya who had made sure Sylvanas looked the part for this occasion after all, so she deserved to have a good look at the result if nothing else.

When Sylvanas killed Arthas it would be for her own sake, but when she crushed the last remnants of the Scourge it would be for Anya.

”Once the capital is secured we do not cease. We pursue the Scourge south, hunting down their necromancers above all, and in doing so we secure a corridor of friendly territory through which we and possible allies can travel safely. That will in turn cut off the Scourge holdings to the west and open up for a future campaign to wipe them out completely.”

”Dark Lady?” It was almost like Proudmoore was itching to raise her hand. ”How far south are we going…?”

Sylvanas grinned at her. Of course it would be her ever curious mage taking that bait.

”Dalaran.”

[Alwyn]

I can't tell what the ending will be - I look forward to finding out!

I'm enjoying this, as ever - particularly Jaina's inventive uses of magic, her introduction to Loras, and her thought about what a wise mouse knows.

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXX. Beauty and Bravery

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The Forsaken army was just about readying to march out as Anya entered the Dark Lady’s office. Sylvanas was sitting by her desk and made a good impression of appearing busy and in a much sterner mood than she was.

”Ranger Lieutenant Eversong.” She leaned back in her chair and considered Anya.

”Dark Lady.”

”I am having trouble with one of the rangers in your squadron.” Sylvanas drawled and watched Anya blink in confusion. ”I think I need to report her to her squadron lieutenant.”

”Who…?” Sometimes Anya was nearly as adorable as Proudmoore when you managed to fluster her.

”Ranger Sylvanas Windrunner.” Sylvanas sighed. ”She is part of your squadron so technically you are her squadron commander, Lieutenant Eversong. She has been outrageously distracted lately.”

”Has she?” Anya tilted her head and her confusion gave way to…something soft that Sylvanas could not completely place.

”Indeed. She can barely do her job some days. Or nights.” Sylvanas rose from her chair. ”I can not for my life fathom what could have gotten into her.”

A small smile formed in the corner of Anya’s mouth.

”I may have an idea of what has gotten into her, Dark Lady…” she almost whispered and took a step closer.

”Would you, now?”

”Too litte…” Anya breathed into Sylvanas’ ear, melodic and smooth as silk.

It was very little that could leave the Dark Lady of the Forsaken speechless. Anya Eversong’s cute little fangs shyly peeking out over her lower lip just like that, was evidently one of those things.

”And how do you intend to deal with the situation, Lieutenant?” Sylvanas husked.

”I am sure I will think of something. Excessive acrobatics, perhaps…” Anya was positively grinning now, shameless and mischievous and radiant. ”Otherwise, maybe I should ask my new ranger mage for advice… I have recently learned from reliable sources – that means a dinner party with Amora’s squadron – that half of the city’s proper inhabitants see her as our shared plaything and the other half consider us to be hers. So maybe she would know something about handling dark rangers, wouldn’t you say?”

Sylvanas could not help but smile at the thought, both of her blushing mage if Anya would actually ask such an insane question and of how Proudmoore would genuinely wish for Ranger Windrunner and any other dark ranger to be as happy as they possibly could.

”What do you think she would recommend?” Sylvanas mumbled and allowed her eyes to feast on Anya’s visage.

”A queen-sized bed in dark purple for a start…” Anya held her gaze and slowly snaked a hand around Sylvanas’ neck. ”A night without obligations…”

”That sounds…” Sylvanas grabbed Anya by her hips and effortlessly lifted her up to sit her down on top of the desk. ”…like something that would worsen the situation considerably…”

”Dangerously…” Anya tightened her grip and pulled Sylvanas down closer to her.

”Disastrously…” Sylvanas held Anya tightly with one arm around her back as she bent down and kissed her.

Anya clung to her neck and leaned further back, pulling them both further down. Something clattered, but Sylvanas could not care less. This time, her most precious ranger would not have to struggle to keep her here. This time, Sylvanas kissed her hungrily from the start and Anya matched her. Her legs snapped shut around Sylvanas’ hips and held them both in place. Sylvanas longed to breathe again, so that Anya could leave her out of breath and hear it. She longed for a heartbeat, that Anya could feel quicken.

She had none of those things, but in that case she would just have to kiss Anya twice as deeply instead. Because they did not, after all, have to pause for breathing or other distractions. Sylvanas ran her tongue along Anya’s lips and teeth and caressed her fangs, and Anya’s tongue that was seeking out hers. Sylvanas shifted her balance so she could lean forward even more and hold Anya’s neck with her other hand. The dark ranger moaned longingly – it was almost a whimper – and pulled Sylvanas even harder towards her.

Then Anya was pulling out of the kiss.

”What’s that awful sound?!” she whined angrily.

She was right. There was a growing rumble of heavy feet outside the door.

They were marching out today after all.

Sylvanas sighed and smiled sadly at her frustrated ranger. Belore, Anya looked like she was close to pouting. Just then, they could hear someone knocking on the door.

”In a moment!” Sylvanas shouted and turned back to stroke along Anya’s dark hair. Something caught her eye below and she gently moved har ranger’s arm to see better.

Anya was sitting in a puddle of freshly spilled ink with the overturned bottle next to her left thigh.

”Did you think your dark rangers were not dark enough, Dark Lady?” Anya’s smile was sad, but it was still a smile.

”I thought I should lacquer you a bit so that you all look pretty for this important day.”

”Maybe it could help us disguise ourselves. We would be travelling ink-ognito.”

”I think leaning back like that has made you ink-lined.” She helped Anya get off the desk without smearing herself too much more and shrugged dismissively at the ruined report Anya had been sitting on. ”It was already unreadable. The man writes like a drunk ogre.”

Sylvanas grabbed a rag and wiped up most of the ink and then wiped most of it from Anya. Hopefully it would just add to the black dye of her pants.

”Have you packed everything?” Sylvanas asked teasingly.

”Yes…that is…I’m sure Lyana has.” Anya admitted in a low voice and sounded embarrassed. She and Proudmoore were so much alike sometimes.

”Anya, being able to rely on others is not a weakness for a squadron commander.” Sylvanas reminded her gently.

”We… We’re mostly carrying Jaina’s things honestly. She didn’t want us to have to burden ourselves but she doesn’t grasp how light the load is for us now.” Anya looked thoughtful. ”It feels nice to have someone to carry things for. At least one of us can eat the provisions we pack and be warmed by the bedrolls and tent we bring with us.”

”How is our mage?”

”She’s nervous. But eager too. Kitala has been making up stuff about what rangers do to live in the wilds. It… Jaina makes us feel better.”

”How are you, Anya?” Sylvanas tilted her head up so Anya looked straight at her.

”Scared.” Anya’s whisper was barely audible.

Sylvanas pulled Anya close, inside the protective embrace of her arms.

”Will you be alright?” Sylvanas whispered into her hair.

”I think so. If I have my squadron. And my ranger mage. And my Dark Lady.”

”One day, I will give you a world without Lich Kings.” Sylvanas kissed her forehead. ”A world without the Scourge. And I won’t let any of them touch you.”

”I know someone else I would rather like to be touched by…” Anya whispered against Sylvanas’ chest.



***



Anya looked across the boulder-strewn slope ahead of them and into the teeming mass of Scourge that was bearing down on the Forsaken squares. She could hear the Lich King calling to her and knew it was her imagination. She could hear his call anyway.

”Baron! Move 4:th and 7:th guard companies to your left side and assume command of our wing! Hold position and guard our flank, advance only upon my or Areiel’s orders! Deploy your rangers and mages to support your own position as you see fit!”

Sylvanas’ voice chased that call away.

”Zey shall break upon my shieldwalls like sticks against a castle wall, My Queen!”

To be honest, Baron Frostfel made a good effort too. Anya wished she could be so encouraging herself. The boasting, but very skilled, knight would have the hardest task today. The Forsaken army was divided into three massive hollow squares with the left one overstrength and made up primarily of the deathguard. Ahead of it was the flattest and most open patch of ground and it would entice any enemy to put in a lot of effort at that place to encircle and break their left wing. Baron Frostfel would have to prevent that and hold his position at almost any cost to let the two other squares move back and forth. He had the Forsaken spellcasters and some rangers for support but not nearly enough to keep a lot of Scourge from reaching his lines. They would have to concentrate on key targets like abominations and above all the Scourge necromancers.

”Kalira, you have the right wing! Follow mine or Areiel’s lead!”

Velonara waved briefly when her squadron sprinted after Kalira towards the Forsaken right. Ahead of the centre and right squares was rugged ground filled with rocks and sparse trees. Kalira would hold the right but with the least heavy infantry and most rangers she would work in the opposite way and skirmish back and forth and make the Scourge trip and tangle in the harsh terrain while ranger squadrons shot them down. She would advance or retreat as needed.

”Areiel, you have the centre and overall command. You know the plan.”

Anya’s squadron was positioned in the middle. The Forsaken centre was one square length ahead of the other two, an obvious bait and in a position to support the wings on either side if the Scourge ignored it. Deathguard lines made up it’s front with dreadguards on the sides and rear. Ahead was a massive slope of rugged terrain leading up to the mountains and coming down it right now was the Scourge.

”Understood.” Areiel was as calm as if they were chatting by the archery range. ”And may I ask where you will be, Dark Lady?”

”Wherever my squadron lieutenant wants me.”

”Best report to her quickly then, Ranger Windrunner!” Areiel was still businesslike, but she wasn’t able to hide the trace of amusement or affection beneath.

Anya’s mood soared immediately. Sylvanas would be next to her and Jaina, and Anya would not have to choose between which one to guard.

”Lieutenant Eversong!” Areiel sounded demanding.

”Yes, Ranger-Captain!”

”Deploy your squadron at the front and find some good spot. Break every dense formation coming close and watch for artillery and enemy casters.”

Anya saluted her and looked over her squadron. Her full squadron. All six rangers.

”Ranger Windrunner, pair with Ranger Proudmoore.” Anya commanded. ”Let no Scourge get close to her.”

Sylvanas grinned ferally and saluted Anya with impeccable form. Anya was not staring at her pearly teeth. Especially not the long ones at the corners.

”Clea and Kitala, watch our right and tell me if you spot something of interest and if Kalira needs assistance. Lyana and I will watch the left.”

All eyes were on Anya. They listened to her, even Sylvanas did without showing the slightest sign of not taking this seriously. In life, Anya knew that Sylvanas had served under Areiel and Lireesa Windrunner. But as dark rangers, none but Anya Eversong had ever had the Dark Lady in her squadron.

And no known ranger lieutenant had an archmage.

”Ranger Proudmoore!”

”Lieutenant Eversong.” Jaina didn’t smile but all of her beamed at Anya.

”Wouldn’t it be such a shame for the Lich King if all the rocks were suddenly covered in ice and made all his stupid lackeys trip?” Anya said vengefully. The Lich King himself should trip and fall down into some deep hole somewhere and never come for Anya or her sisters again.

Now Jaina smiled, wide and with sparkling eyes lighting up with arcane white. She gestured with her staff and arcane runes blinked in the air before her.

”Like this, maybe?”

The Scourge masses passed an invisible line and tumbled. Not every one of them, but well beyond half lost their footing or took a wrong step and staggered, and the sloping ground did the rest. Here and there a boulder or patch of bare rock glimmered, coated in slick ice.

”Just like that. Good work!” Now Anya was smiling too. A little bit. ”Continue to mess upp their ranks. Everyone else look for siege weaponry!”

Like with every defensive position, enemy artillery and casters were the most dangerous things. This particular field was very good for the Forsaken though, because the rugged terrain made transporting anything resembling the meat wagons of the Scourge a challenge, and the ridgeline was so far away that Anya was sure they would be out of range if something was hidden beyond it. It might look like the Forsaken were in a very exposed position on the low ground, but the elevation meant that their rangers could shoot from behind the infantry ranks without anything impeding their sights.

Anya recognized the gusts of wind that Jaina had summoned before. Now they were more brief and random instead of one single howling gale. They caused confusion in the Scourge ranks, which were more uniform than other times. Skeleton warriors, mindless heaps of reanimated bones and a bare spark of necromancy to sustain them.

Sylvanas had seen it too.

”Lieutenant, it would appear we are up against a first wave of classic arrow fodder. To me this smells of attrition tactics.”

She didn’t follow up with an order or even a suggestion of what to do. Sylvanas would, for real, let Anya work out for herself how to respond to the situation and follow her lead. Anya desperately wanted to pass that test. The Dark Lady – no, Sylvanas – had let her lead and she couldn’t disappoint her.

”Jaina…” Anya asked slowly before she really had her question finished. ”Would you be able to pretend to have spent your mana on these skeletons even though you had a lot left?”

”That always depends on who is watching and how much they know of me and of magic in general. But if we assume that the other side doesn’t know me very well I could always cast a stream of gradually weakening spells – fireballs for example – to give the impression that I was tiring.”

”Then do that. Do as much damage as you can and make it look panicked and like you soon tired yourself out.”

”On it, Lieutenant! One frantic flurry on it’s way!”

Jaina begun to cast shortly after when the first enemy ranks were coming in range. The rangers in the Forsaken lines conserved their arrows, which were ineffective against mere skeletons and better spent later. The square formations meant that the dark rangers could sneak out and fall back into safety in any direction and also have many places to lay in wait behind the burly forms of the heavy infantry in order to mask their numbers for whoever on the other side that was watching.

Sylvanas glanced at Anya. She didn’t say anything, neither praising nor criticising her. But she winked.

The sound when both lines clashed was one of creaking and snapping bone and clatter against metal as the disordered masses of skeletons hit tightly packed deathguards bracing against their onslaught. Once more, Forsaken infantry proved tougher than living simply by virtue of not needing to breathe or tiring. They stopped the tide of Scourge and begun cutting them apart methodically and conservatively, never breaking formation or exposing themselves needlessly. Anya had heard that Baron Frostfel had drilled the guard to near mutiny with remarks that rest was for the living, whereupon someone had pointed out that in life, the Baron had told his soldiers that they could rest when they were dead, and asked him to make his mind up.

”Second wave in the trees.” As chaotic and teasing as Kitala was off duty and during training, as considerate as she became whenever someone needed her, so was she disciplined and steady when she had to. She had to speak for them both. Clea’s whisper did not carry over the noise of a battlefield.

Ghouls crawled and leapt and abomination lumbered among them down the slope, using their claws and hooks and cleavers respectively to steady themselves among the ice patches. In the rear ranks crawled many-legged spidery creatures who showed no sign of being troubled by the ice or uneven terrain.

”Crypt fiends.” Sylvanas noted calmly. ”Rare thing to see those around these days.”

Anya’s eyes darted left and right. Everywhere was Scourge. Everywhere were the Lich King’s monstrosities. Everywhere were hands and claws and hooked mandibles that came to tear her from Sylvanas and from Lyana and Clea and Kitala and Velonara and Jaina and take her back to the darkness without end…

NO.

”Dark rangers, ready! Nock arrows!”

Five elven bows creaked simultaneously.

Jaina was looking at her attentively. She was so pretty in her dark ranger cloak with the ear slits sewn shut by Lyana, and her eyes glowed white from the mana she held ready, matching the eyes of any Forsaken.

The Lich King would take her away from Anya and hurt her, and kill her and Raise her and make Jaina do what Anya had done.

”Ranger Proudmoore! Target those crypt fiends, they are too close to the ground for us.”

They would not have Jaina. Not in a million years. Not ever.

Anya would tear them apart if they so much as poked her ranger mage.

”Rangers! Abominations first, crypt fiends and ghouls second! Loose!”

The sky did not darken this time. Not like it had outside the Undercity. The ice came from nowhere and everywhere, hundreds of sharp hails that struck down like a volley of arrows, then of javelins. Crypt fiends had tough skin, chitinous Nerubian shells and natural plates.

Abominations did not, but the bloated masses of dead flesh on them would simply soak up a great deal of damage and such a small object as an arrow needed to either be enchanted or hit a vulnerable spot like their eyes and skulls. A ranger squadron needed to work together to bring down one before it came close enough to barrel into the deathguards and break up their formation by sheer mass and weight if nothing else. It was much more valuable to stop one completely than let two wounded reach the Forsaken lines.

The Scourge second wave washed over their first that were engaging the Forsaken squares. The skeletons were not imaginative enough to surround but ghouls leapt through the gaps between the central and adjoining squares in their search for new flesh to carve up, undead or not. The dreadguard welcomed them with raised shields and chanted something Anya did not quite catch.

To the right of Anya’s was Amora’s squadron. She kept close to Alina with the Mirrahs further out.

”Anya, watch out for our right!” Amora shouted. ”Kalira’s falling back and Marrah saw a flash that could be casting!”

”Understood!”

Hunting the Scourge necromancers was the primary goal of all ranger squadrons on the field. Anya’s in particular because they had Jaina who could strike from the sky behind the Scourge minions.

The right wing had soaked up the wave of skeletons with it’s front and the dark rangers had spread out to flank their square, especially on the open far right side, and worked their way in. When the second wave fell over them they had retreated around and taken up a position behind the square, while the impatient and aggravated enemy rushed right for them and exposed themselves to the swords of the heavy infantry whose square they were passing too close. It soon had the full attention of the Scourge’s left – if they could be said to even have a left or right wing at all – and Kalira’s rangers were starting to withdraw into the square.

”Anya! Amora! Keep shooting, but listen!” Areiel ordered. ”Change of plans. We will push from the centre towards the right to free up Kalira. I want your squadrons to move to our rear and attack the Scourge there. We need to make some space for Kalira’s rangers to move around again.”

It was not the first thing Anya would have thought of doing. The large mass of Scourge was in front of them and she assumed that was the place to focus their shooting on. But Areiel had said so and Areiel usually knew what she was doing. Or, more than usually.

Normally, now would have been the time to tell her squadron to leg it and cross the inside of their square and squeeze between infantry ranks.

Normally. Anya smirked. The Scourge would be in for a surprise.

”Squadron, cease shooting! Amora, come close to us!”

Both Anya’s squadron and Amora’s did as she had said but Amora looked questioning and in a hurry, and not like she had much patience to spare.

”Jaina, Areiel wants us to move behind our lines and relieve Kalira’s square. Can you get us all there?”

”In a blink, Lieutenant.” Jaina smirked at her. It was just a little strange with her glowing eyes. ”How about the small hill with the broken tree?” she asked and pointed.

”That looks like a nice spot. Good thinking, Ranger Proudmoore.” Anya said briskly and felt proud. ”Take us there.”

The world flashed white and while they had been warned about the possibility, Amora’s rangers took a moment to orientate themselves.

The rookies. Anya smiled a little to herself. She had done it five times now. Two times in battle and three times when Jaina was playing with them.

Now the dark rangers were back in their right element, an irregular fight in the wilderness. The squadrons spread out without having to be told so and stalked forward to hunt the Scourge.

One by one, two by two, ghouls and zombies and skeletons broke away from hacking against the rear ranks of Kalira’s square. They rushed against the dark rangers and met their end when black arrows sent them crashing into the ground. It was a trickle, but a rapid trickle, of enemies away from Kalira and more importantly Anya’s squadron was now with the Forsaken rightmost side in view.

”Jaina, what was the name again, is it raiding shots?”

”Raking shots.” Jaina had been keeping pace with them and throwing out small ice lances against individual ghouls. She looked every bit the part of a ranger mage. ”But the ground is broken here and I honestly think a few normal fireballs would be mana better spent, Lieutenant.”

”Alright. Amora, I suggest we focus our arrows on the Scourge to the rear while Jaina sets them on fire to the right.”

Amora grinned at Anya and nodded, but just then a half dozen ghouls became visible among the rocks to their right.

”Mine.” Sylvanas said casually and nocked and loosed an arrow so fast that Anya only caught a blur. ”Heed your Lieutenants order, Ranger Proudmoore. I will deal with these.”

That reminder hit home with Anya too. She hurriedly picked a ghoul out of the throngs clawing at the nearby heavy infantry, less elite and not as heavily armoured Forsaken soldiers that made up the rear of the square. It was so many things to keep track of in a field battle. So many things to worry about when comrades and allies were dying everywhere around every minute. How did Sylvanas and Areiel do it?

Anya could spare a quick look at Sylvanas at least. She danced among the ghouls and left collapsing piles of rotting flesh in her wake. They had nothing on Anya’s Dark Lady.

Ahead of her, Jaina’s fireballs had begun to rain and left smouldering holes in the Scourge ranks. Maybe Anya imagined it, but it sounded very much like the dreadguards on the side cheered or chanted louder when seeing it. They knew what Jaina’s presence counted for.

Black shapes darted and slunk between the rear ranks and Kalira’s ranger squadrons joined the fight outside the square.

”Amora!” Anya could hear Anthis Sunbow calling out. ”Kalira is advancing, move up along the right side with us and keep pace! We’re going to send this filth running!”

”Necromancers!” Anya flinched when she heard Alina. Far up the slope, the sickly green lights and the motley red and purple robes of the senior members of the Cult of the Damned were visible for all. Before them, skeletons rose from the ground where they had lain still.

Anya did not know what to do. They were not done with Areiel’s task. But the Scourge spellcasters were the whole point. Nothing mattered in the long run if they escaped to raise new Scourge armies somewhere else. And their magics could still tip the scales if there were sufficient numbers of them present.

Sylvanas were back at Jaina’s side. She stepped up to Anya, still with a thoroughly casual demeanour.

”Kalira’s wing has been relieved enough for her to manoeuvre. If you want to go for a hunt, we are ready, Lieutenant.”

Well, when Ranger Windrunner put it in that way.

”Squadron, to me!” Anya would be much more comfortable up there in the wilderness than down here in this confused mess anyway. ”We are going to pay a visit to that handful of necromancers up on the slope. I want us all spread out in front of Jaina when we appear and engaging our opposite number of those goat-heads.”

The rangers formed a half circle around their mage and Jaina took note of their positions.

”Ready? Two, one…”

Stony field turned into to rugged sparse woodland. Anya raised her bow, drew, and put a black arrow through the neck of a gnarly man with greasy hair and one of the stupid skull hats his kind adorned themselves with.

Alarmed shouts cut through the air and heaps of bones rose and formed into a kind of wall in front of four remaining necromancers. Five lay dead after the rangers’ first shots.

”Back, mindless creatures!”

Anya clenched her jaws tightly. That was what they were to the necromancers and liches and death knights of the Scourge. Failed minions. Broken puppets. Beasts to reassert control over.

Then a huge fireball blew the bone wall apart. Smoking and blackened pieces flew high and wide.

”Who are you calling mindless, you foul, evil -” Jaina’s angry outburst was cut short by a deafening roar from the side. The largest abomination Anya had ever seen barrelled through the trees, felling smaller ones and breaking branches as it bore down on the dark rangers.

On Jaina.

Anya leapt past her into position with her daggers pulled out and ready when she landed. She had no idea of how to fight such a mountain of meat but she had to keep it’s attention if nothing else. Then she stumbled, her limbs shaking and unsteady, and nearly dropped her daggers. What was happening to her? How could she hold off that thing when she could barely move a…

Jaina…

Jaina!

Anya walked – it was pathetic, but it was all she could do – defiantly forward. The monstrosity peered at her with small, bloodshot eyes and made a grimace that was like some greasy parody of a grin.

”HHHRRREND AND TEARRR!!!”

Biting cold suddenly emanated in front of Anya and the gigantic abomination slowed, and slowed even more, and frost coated it’s rotting and bleeding skin. Waves of ever deeper cold pulsed about the thing, driven deeper into it until there was more icy blue than anything else.

With black fumes waving off her shoulders Sylvanas walked with furiously lowered brows past Anya. Darkness enveloped her and she rose above the ground in banshee form and Wailed.

The deep frozen abomination disintegrated and exploded into hundreds of pieces of foul-looking ice.

Sylvanas resumed her elven form again and turned around towards Anya.

”Crippling curse.”

Only then did Anya notice that she could move as usual again. It was eerie.

”What about…”

Sylvanas nodded at Lyana, Clea and Kitala who had appeared with drawn bows, back after having finished off the remaining necromancers. Had so little time really passed?

”Your orders, Lieutenant Eversong?”

Anya looked around, noticing the carnage but also the apparent lack of anything like a command post. This was not the head of the Scourge army, it was more like a hand they had cut off.

”We continue our hunt. This can’t be the only necromancers on the field, can it?”

Sylvanas shook her head.

”From what we have seen so far there is likely to be at least one more group, controlling their right side of the field and focusing their attention on Baron Frostfel. The attacks against our centre and right were simultaneous and the view from here covers both.”

Anya gave it some thought.

”We should not risk running blindly into something. I think it’s best if we continue on foot to the top of this ridge to scout.”

”As you command, Lieutenant.”

Then, Sylvanas winked at her again.

Anya waved for her squadron to follow her. Jaina and Sylvanas remained a little behind since Jaina was not as silent as the rest. It took them about two hundred steps to reach the edge from where they could look down on the left side of the field, with a good view of it too.

It was quite a sight.

Anya had to admit that she had never been very good at understanding large scale infantry tactics. She was well trained in how to fight as part of a small group like a ranger squadron and their irregular methods and tricks but pitched battles with heavy troops had always seemed like a mass of slow, immobile mobs of soldiers to her.

But when viewed from above, well, she had to give Areiel and the Baron all credit for how they could keep everything together like they did.

When viewed from above and afar, the small bricks that made up the squares and lines and columns became visible, even in the chaos of close combat. The companies that moved about independently but acted together as part of the bigger whole.

Kalira’s square was gone and her infantry advanced in small spread out units with rangers circling them, over the broken ground before and around Areiel’s central square towards the left. Areiel had shifted it’s front halfway left as well and the entire Forsaken right was turning to fall upon the Scourge that besieged Baron Frostfel's fortress of iron and deathguards. The amount of soldiers spread out in it’s middle was an indication of the toll that defence had taken, Anya could only hope that as many as possible were only wounded.

”Mostly according to plan.” Sylvanas commented quietly beside her. ”We expected to break them in the centre rather than the right.”

”Can you see who is leading the Scourge?”

”No, but Kitala pointed out something interesting. Look there.” Sylvanas pointed and Anya could see some sort of tower or obelisk-like thing. It seemed to have some sort of statue on it and vaguely resembled both the Scourge’s buildings and their stone gargoyles.

”There are some people on it, or next to it at least.” Anya couldn’t quite make out what they looked like at this distance.

”Elevated position, Scourge iconography and most likely some sort of magical benefits about it too. I say we have found our command post, Lieutenant.”

”Can we take it?”

”I think that is dependant on what our ranger mage feels up to.”

Anya turned towards Jaina and waved her over. Jaina really did her best at staying quiet but she still stepped on too many dry twigs when she walked.

”Nice view.” Jaina commented flippantly but her face was very serious. She too had seen the predicament of their left square. ”Do you want us to shoot from up here?”

”No, something much more risky. See that tower in the Scourge lines? We think it is where their other necromancers will be.”

”And you want to pay them a visit?”

”As quick as possible.”

”Of course, Lieutenant. We wouldn’t want to impose. Tell me when you’re ready.” Jaina smiled and Anya’s confidence rose with it.

When her squadron had assembled just beneath the ridge Anya had a plan.

”Jaina will teleport us in front of that statue thing. It is most probable that the Scourge commanders are there rather than hiding behind it, they will want to see what happens and where to cast their spells. We stay close to her in a ring and when we appear Jaina casts a shield while the rest of us look for targets. Bows out for everyone. Hopefully Jaina’s magic can destroy any cover they seek to hide behind. What do you think?”

”Let’s go.” Kitala grinned.

”If we need to hold our ground, what’s our division?” Clea pointed out.

”Sylvanas and Jaina on necromancers, me and Lyana left and you and Kitala right.”

”Sounds good. Are we off?”

Anya almost waited for someone to point out what she had forgotten.

”Seems like you have everything in hand, Lieutenant…” Sylvanas whispered into her ear.

”A-alright then.” Anya said just a little shakily. ”Take your positions.”

The ground they landed on was already showing signs of blight. It was almost muddy after countless undead feet had trampled though it. The towering statue seemed a lot larger from beneath it, dark and foreboding with a leering skull set in it.

And the necromancers, were where they were supposed to be.

”Loose at will! Anya shouted and aimed for one acolyte in the dark and purple robes of their cult. Something burned her arm and she turned to face a chanting human, man or woman she could honestly not tell underneath the skull mask and years’ worth of grime. As Anya loosed her arrow the world around her turned red and a wave, no, a sea of rage coursed through her and she could all but stop herself from Wailing then and there. She had to hit something, and now! She loosed her next few arrows frantically but the targets were gone! Who had had the gall to steal her kills?! It burned inside her, it thrashed, it shook! The rage was destroying her and she needed to focus it…

The red world flashed white.

She landed back at the hill with the broken tree where Jaina had first teleported them to. The place was empty! It was intolerable!

”Get away from me!” Anya forced out desperately.

She bit down on the fury inside her. Why should she have to do that, why couldn’t she just strike something instead?! Why couldn’t she just…just..

A discernible force of nothing at all hit her. A wave of emptiness and calm. Such calm.

”Anya?” Jaina sounded so worried. Had…had she been hurt?

”I…I couldn’t…I didn’t…” Anya didn’t know what to say.

”That wasn’t you.” Jaina didn’t recoil from her. Jaina wasn’t afraid of her. ”But there is no curse they can conjure that I can not dispel. Come on, let’s go and inform the Scourge that they have lost this battle. I bet Areiel is wondering where we are too.”

Anya stared into her eyes, bright white and wonderful like the Sunwell itself.

Maybe it was a little bit alright to stare sometimes.



***



Dear Pained,

Forgive me for not writing more and sooner, I must have worried you terribly. I am fine and doing well along with the Forsaken. There is a great deal to tell so I will try to keep to what is most important.

I am allowed to cast again and help in the fight against the Scourge. We have repelled a large attack against the capital city and the queen has begun a counter-attack to take back territory west of Lordamere Lake.

I have been appointed Honorary Ranger Mage! I am the first and only of my kind in the corps of dark rangers and they are being really kind to me. Especially my squadron and the ranger captain, Areiel, who I think you have one or two things in common with. The queen is actually very kind too even though she can be very frightening. They are all united in an unholy pact to bug me about eating regularly – as mentioned, you could probably find common ground.

I do not know how long this campaign will take or what will happen next but I hope we will be able to reach Dalaran. Then the Forsaken could make contact with the Kirin Tor and perhaps from some sort of alliance. It would mean so much, for they have been rejected time after time and it hurts to see how it has affected them.

I realise as I write that I will have to split all I have to tell you into several letters lest I overwhelm you or my portal. In my next I will tell you about Anya Eversong, my squadron lieutenant. She is the sweetest thing you could imagine.

Jaina”

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXI. Charge and Chivalry

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

A long row of large pyres spread out before Jaina’s eyes. The dead and drying woods had offered plenty of firewood for them.

Just about the entire Forsaken field army was assembled. Jaina was with her squadron close to Sylvanas. She wasn’t feeling very well, but then who really did during funerals?

Forsaken with torches were having them lit by their mages and slowly setting the pyres alight. The Forsaken casters helped here and there as well but Sylvanas had insisted on performing the ceremony as simple and down-to-earth as possible. For that reason Jaina did not take part in lighting the pyres with her own magic. She had done a lot to earn the gratitude of the Forsaken but the sight of a living archmage burning the bodies of slain undead may still be provocative to some. It was at least not something worth the risk to find out.

The casualties were small compared to the Scourge, the plan had been a success in general. But the numbers of the Scourge were still likely to be vastly superior to those of the Forsaken. The Scourge could afford to lose armies to whittle down Forsaken companies.

”Brothers and sisters! In life and in death, your free will iz your due. May ze Scourge never touch you again!”

Even Baron Frostfel sounded sad and nothing like his usual self. When he spoke the last sentence Jaina thought unbidden of abuse associated with touching someone against their will. She grimaced. Maybe that metaphor wasn’t too far off. Instead of violating someone’s body through torture or rape the Lich King had violated their souls.

What would it be like to have had something like that done to you? It was impossible to imagine, of course.

The grimmest of deathguards had once been men who knew how to laugh and cheer. The woods had resounded with the elven rangers’ songs.

”Courage, Jaina.” Clea whispered to her from behind.

”I hate funerals.” Jaina muttered miserably.

”Come here.” Clea held up her cloak and pulled Jaina close so it hung down over Jaina too. She didn’t need it for keeping herself warm but it was very comforting.

All around there was a low murmur or chanting amongst the Forsaken that Jaina had trouble making sense of.

”What are they saying?” she whispered to Clea.

”Their own eulogies. As a people, you could say that we strongly dislike having anyone else speak for us so official speeches tend to be sparse.”

Jaina could easily imagine that. The words and deeds of the Forsaken had not been their own previously. She pressed closer to Clea and longed most of all to be back in her tent together with her squadron.

Once they had caught fire properly, the pyres burned quickly enough but it still took enough time for Jaina to start feeling stiff until the participants started to disperse. Some would stay to see to it that the fires burned out as they should and bury the ashes later.

Anya approached and took in the sight of Jaina wrapped in Clea’s arms and cloak.

”Are you cold, Jaina?”

”No, just a little stiff.”

”Sylvanas wants to see us in her command tent.”

”Right now?”

”We can’t afford to take time for long funerals. We ensure our lost ones can not be Raised again and say our farewells but that is all.”

It had been the same for the Alliance’s expeditionary army in Kalimdor.

Jaina fell in behind Lyana with Anya keeping close to her.

Sylvanas’ tent was not furnished for living in but dedicated to planning and keeping the army operational. Whatever small space was left was being used for storing fragile supplies. It had a main room with a long foldable table for maps and drawings. Sylvanas was at the head of it together with Baron Frostfel and some other commanders.

”Hello Anya.” Sylvanas indicated a free spot where the squadron could sit down on a couple of thick logs on the tent floor, chairs being a luxuary they would have to forego. Unfortunately the same went for braziers and fire pits, which made Sylvanas’ tent rather cold with only lanterns to illuminate it. If the number of people usually present in it had been living Jaina reckoned it would have gotten warm enough, maybe even stifling after a while, but…well, things were what they were.

Anya spread out her cloak next to her and stifled any potential protests from Jaina before she could make them. Jaina huddled close to her with Clea on the other side. She felt cold inside rather than from the raw autumn air.

”We are assembled. I will keep this brief as the day has not been pleasant for any of us.” Sylvanas begun curtly but the look she gave Jaina was not hard. ”You all saw the results of the latest battle outside. We have fought the Scourge successfully in the field and managed to hold our ground and decisively defeat a numerically superior foe with notably few casualties. They are still too many and they hurt us deeply since they bleed us of crack troops.”

Sylvanas made a pause.

”This is not sustainable. In the long run even victorious field battles of this magnitude will drain us more than they will drain our enemy. We must do even better.”

”Dark Lady, we picked the ground, we were prepared, we had the terrain.” Anthis Sunbow commented. ”I do not refute the conclusion but how much more can we ask for?”

Sylvanas nodded at her. Jaina admired this side of the Dark Lady greatly. No matter how commanding and domineering she was, she never reprimanded you for voicing concerns or questioning something.

”We fortify our encampment. We try to actually dissuade the enemy from attacking it. Now, as most of you are well aware our strategy has been to fight the Scourge in the open with the help of our magical assets –” She flashed a wicked smile in Jaina’s direction. ”– or in many smaller encounters where our elite forces can triumph with little effort. Our last engagement shows that the former option must be avoided. On the upside, we have now claimed enough territory to let our rangers torment any force that advances over a long time. But we can and must do even better than that I think.”

”Ze Scourge triumphs by its numbers and necromantic powers, in short.” Baron Frostfel continued after a nod from Sylvanas. ”Zere is little in ze form of professional military leadership and aptitude in its ranks of necromancers. While I suspect zat we will sooner or later encounter a general who knows his trade, zat still leaves smaller units without very competent commanders and without ze experience of irregular tactics. Zeir discount of ze merits of personal initiative can be turned against zem if we lure out detachments and lead zem into a waiting ambush.”

Jaina was getting caught up in the briefing now and didn’t think so much on how low she had been feeling. Seeing Sylvanas in her element was always encouraging, and rather captivating, and when she and the baron were in agreement about something military Jaina had grown used to consider it just short of an irrefutable fact.

”A raiding party of guards mixed with rangers should be able to best most of ze Scourge patrols and hunting packs we have seen so far. A swift force of rangers can move between zem and ambush pursuers or lend support against larger enemy contingents. Zanks to our archmage, we need not be overly bound by conventional logistics either…”

”So, Ranger Mage Proudmoore, how many of us could you actually bring with you when teleporting?” Sylvanas drawled.

”Well, the five of you were not too heavy to lug around last time, so I could probably take on a few more…” Jaina said irreverently. When Sylvanas spoke in that tone there was a little part of Jaina that wanted to, well, act her disobedient pet again just for the fun of it. Or her disobedient ranger mage, because Jaina had seen firsthand how dark rangers could be and she was one of them now after all.

”One single ranger squadron were not too much of a challenge for you?” Sylvanas had slipped from a drawl into an outright purring. ”Shall I give you another one to…stretch your limits?”

To be honest, Sylvanas already knew from the field battle that Jaina could teleport hers and Amora’s squadrons at once.

”Make that three and we’ll see how it goes from there.” Jaina said cockily, already in much better mood and looking forward to testing her abilities in that way. ”It might turn out to be something of a wild ride. I make no promises.”

”I will keep the reins in a firm grip, then…” Sylvanas had already won the staring game. Jaina was blushing something fierce. ”Now! Baron, what is your assessment of the mages your deathguards were assigned?”

”Hm? Ah, zey are…” The distinguished baron appeared a little bewildered. ”…perhaps not quite as eager and experienced as yours, but zey are good lads and lasses all of zem. Zey made a good account of zemselves.”

”Very good. Ranger Proudmoore, how do you feel about teaching them some new tricks?”



***



Jaina was kept very busy instructing the Forsaken mages during a long day. Their task was not to learn more destructive battle spells but to cast magical signals that other groups and scouts could spot. Jaina thrived because first, she got to teach magic and second, the system of magical signal flares rested on the same solid principles as the naval flag signals the Kul Tiran captains used to relay orders. The dark rangers and other Forsaken present did not quite grasp the brilliance of that however, they would only smile and express how they trusted Jaina’s competence whether it drew on maritime inspiration or not. She should have had Captain Bones and his crew with her to hammer the point in with these greenhorns and landlubbers, Jaina thought.

Her cadre of young mages, nine in total, would be partnered with either rangers or deathguards, with whom they seemed to have formed a bond despite their dour and grim disposition. They would then act as the group’s messengers by signalling with simple colourful flares in the sky. One red light would mean enemy in sight, two was a request for aid and three or several after each other was a distress call. Blue flares meant safe or defensible locations. Jaina had many more ideas that she was itching to share but Sylvanas had ordered them to practice and learn the most vital ones thoroughly before moving on to anything else. Which was probably wise, if a little boring in Jaina’s opinion.

Practicing and making everything work together was no picnic though. The rangers were masters of stealth but the same could not be said for the fully armoured infantry that would be integrated with them, and it led to a good deal of bickering inside the raiding parties. Nor were anyone involved used to working with magical signals and even if their meanings were clear and simple it took some thinking to determine how to respond and making sure everyone was onboard with it. Areiel, Kalira and Anthis were at one time engaged in a shouting match with each other and deathguard lieutenants Charles, Harry and Van Hed that made Jaina clutch her ears.

After another day of training and laying down plans they had finally come up with what seemed to be workable ways to respond to the signals. And currently it was literally a picnic, since Jaina was sitting on a stone eating.

The rest of the army had been equally busy constructing a fortified camp on high ground. Again the Forsaken managed to defy the military conventions of the living in that they had no need to bother with access to drinking water when picking their spot. The few living inhabitants could easily be supplied by conjuration spells. Now a small castle of rock and timber rose on top of a sharp ridge and on all accessible sides the path was littered with impediments, traps and hidden turns that only the defenders were aware of. The rocky sides of the Northern Silverpine Hills, bordering the vast Silverpine Forest below, also provided ample materials to defend an elevated position. Rocks and boulders abounded and had been piled to be rolled or thrown down on any approaching Scourge.

It would be a hard position to break which meant all the more time for the Forsaken to locate and hunt down the enemy necromancers and commanders. And the Silverpine Forest was ideal dark ranger hunting grounds, so long as the new participants could keep their clanking to a minimum.

Jaina thought their castle – she liked that term even if it was nowhere near a proper stone castle – was quite impressive and hoped it would keep it’s defenders as safe as they could be while Jaina was out with the rangers. For her own part, she could think of no safer place than where they were.

Yesterday, she had gotten a very unexpected request from the Mirrahs who wondered if Jaina was able to conjure pumpkins. Which happened to be something Jaina had never actually tried. But the idea had stuck in her head and after an evening of practicing she had in fact managed to conjure a small one, to the delight of the Mirrahs. Jaina had then realised that tomorrow would in fact be nothing less than Hallows Eve.

Two months. She had been with the Forsaken for two whole months. It was hard to grasp. On the one hand it felt like only a couple of weeks since she had disembarked the Banshee’s Wail. On the other Jaina might as well have known her ranger squadron for two years rather than months.

Jaina knew that there was a significant chance that she was exaggerating. The last weeks had been so intense, both horrible and fascinating, and she had rarely had time to catch up emotionally and think it all through. Things just happened all the time.

Perhaps she would one day see her adventures here in a different light. But she vowed that no change of perspective would intrude on the place in her heart that was forever reserved for the dark rangers. They would always be so very dear to her.

They would also always be completely priceless.

”Jaina, come and see this!” Kitala was calling to her and sounded like she had been laughing hard.

”Aren’t we training?”

”It will only take a moment!” Clea and Kitala were hurrying towards her with Anya and Lyana after them. ”Teleport us into camp now.”

Jaina raised her staff and in a flash they were in front of the encampment’s main entrance. Kitala urged Jaina inside and led the way to the central open space, perhaps a sort of a square, where an obelisk not quite matching those of the Scourge had been constructed. On its top was mounted…a merrily grinning carved pumpkin with a flickering light inside. Not only that, but a hood made of some old piece of cloth had been draped over it in resemblance to the hoods on the rangers’ cloaks. Carved into the wood of the structure, Jaina read with rising astonishment:

All hail the Pumpkin Queen

Dark Pumpkin watch over you

The example of Forsaken art had attracted quite a crowd and drawn its fair share of chuckles and appreciative exclamations. Standing in the middle of the crowd, with her arms crossed and with a pointed look at the obelisk, was Sylvanas.

”Lieutenant Eversong.” Sylvanas said evenly. ”Your squadron wouldn’t happen to know anything about this recent outlet of creative energy in our camp, would you?”

Jaina was biting her lips together and tried not to giggle. It was proving very hard.

”Perhaps Ranger Mage Proudmoore would be able to enlighten us about how that pumpkin mysteriously appeared in camp and ended up in its present position?” Sylvanas’ piercing gaze bored into Jaina.

”Uhm…I may have succeeded in conjuring a pumpkin for the Mirrahs last evening or so…” Jaina said innocently. ”…but I promise I have no idea of what became of it afterwards.”

”That is indeed a mystery, is it not, hmm? Because it is of course not like Mira and Marrah could be expected to come up with something like this.” Sylvanas said dryly.

Sylvanas didn’t seem dissatisfied for real, Jaina had learned to distinguish that much about her by now. The Dark Lady was usually frightening enough by herself so that it was easy to overlook the ways her mood could shift beneath the stern veneer of her offices. Right now it was a precious sight to see her be so relaxed about her rangers’ public unruliness. It made Jaina happy, and a little giddy, and mayyybe wanting to mess a bit with the Dark Lady.

”I think it is a very pretty pumpkin queen. The resemblance is remarkable.”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes and gave Jaina a long glare.

”The Mirrahs forgot the ears, though.” Anya chimed in. ”Maybe next year we can stick a couple of large carrots in it?”

The assembled crowd parted before Sylvanas when she deliberately started to walk towards Jaina and Anya, dark and looming and…extremely graceful. Jaina was completely forgetting what she had been thinking of saying next. Anya however managed to keep her head.

”If we cut the carrots in half and hollowed them out I think they could serve as pretty decent elven ears.” she suggested, and reached up to stroke quickly along Sylvanas’ ear when the Dark Lady towered over them, or at least made Jaina feel like she did.

”Carrots, Anya?” Sylvanas asked threateningly. The kind of threateningly that sent shivers down your spine and left you frozen on the spot. She reached out to take hold of Anya’s chin and tilt her head up just a little. ”Watch your mouth, my little pumpkin…”

”I’d rather watch yours, my Pumpkin Queen.” Jaina had to blink twice. Anya had a small little cheeky smile on her and was teasing her Dark Lady in broad twilight in front of everyone around them, while she clearly had eyes only for Sylvanas. ”The Mirrahs’ sculpting fail hopelessly to do your fangs justice.”

In response Sylvanas bared her teeth more, and her fangs were certainly very prominent this close.

”So you prefer them up close?”

”Not close enough…”

Barely had the words left Anya before Sylvanas lowered her mouth further and captured Anya’s lips in a kiss.

Jaina’s mage staff clattered to the ground, but she barely registered it. The tiny mental presence that was Jaina’s decency and manners was telling her that she should look away, or at least not stare like an idiot. But that presence managed just a tiny whisper now.

It was so…right. Jaina couldn’t find a better word for it. For all the domineering presence Sylvanas projected she was holding Anya’s chin with so much care. And shy, brave and frightened Anya was kissing her back like she had not a care in the world, like Sylvanas’ grip was the safest place in all of Azeroth for her.

When Anya had kissed Sylvanas on the cheek after receiving her Scarlet Sash that had been sweet. Seeing Anya and Sylvanas kissing like they did now, that was more than sweet. Mesmerising. Beautiful. How the world should rightly be.

Only the sudden coldness of Sylvanas’ other hand turning Jaina’s chin towards her pulled Jaina out of her transfixed moment.

”And you, Lady Pumpkinmoore, had best take care lest I decide to mount a cabbage head with cloak and staff for all to see.”

A snort of laughter escaped Kitala behind her and Clea and Lyana huffed with quiet chuckles. One of them had picked up Jaina’s staff and put it back in her hand.

”Y-yes Dark Lady…” Jaina breathed unsteadily. By now the other dark rangers and the bolder and merrier of the other Forsaken were letting their amusement show too.

”Let it be known!” Sylvanas shouted to the assembled crowd, proud and fierce and still with Anya and Jaina held steadily in her hands like two melting candles. ”That Hallows Eve shall belong to the Forsaken! Tonight we celebrate that in spite of everything done to us, WE ARE FREE! We are NOT monsters! We are not slaves, or tools, or minions of the Lich King or anyone else!”

The Dark Lady’s lips were glistening in the torchlight. Wet from Anya.



***



It was the day after Hallows Eve and Anya had rarely had such trouble focusing on her watch. Unless you counted some of the times when she had kept watch over Jaina before she could get rid of the stupid bracelets, which Anya had only let off with a warning because they kept Jaina warm.

Not only had Sylvanas kissed her in front of everyone around them, and especially in front of Jaina which had been so priceless, but she had done it so freely, so absent any care for what was proper or what her dreary station required of her. Like she once had been, before she became a ranger captain. Except of course that the Dark Lady kissed like no living ranger ever could, Anya was sure.

She hadn’t really dared to keep teasing Sylvanas like that in front of everybody. But she had done it anyway. And she longed to cause more mischief for her Dark Lady. Just enough to convince her to take a break from being a troubled Banshee Queen and to be Dark Lady-like with Anya instead.

Today was a busy day. Their newly formed raiding parties were sent out and Anya and her squadron were standing by to teleport in and assist wherever they were needed. It was a trial run of sorts, clearing out a sector around the Pumpkin Castle (the name had stuck after yesterday and the pumpkin totem was still on proud display) to assert control over the surrounding land. Jaina had not been content to wait idly and wanted to investigate the nearby battlefield where they had hunted the necromancers. She could teleport from there as easily as anywhere else and there was apparently something about the Scourge obelisk they had encountered that disturbed her.

They were right in front of it, Jaina investigating and the rangers spread out and keeping watch. Anya was actually not too worried, they had passed through the area recently and the Scourge had so far been anything but subtle.

More worrying was that Jaina looked displeased with something. Or perhaps not displeased, but concerned. She was frowning and circling the ruined pillar, and casting some sort of spell that Anya did not recognize.

”Anya, could you come over here for a minute?” Jaina said thoughtfully just then.

Anya climbed up to where Jaina stood in front of the obelisk.

”Did it look like this last time we were here?” the mage asked slowly.

Anya turned her attention to the pillar. It looked quite ruined, a great part of it had collapsed and left a huge gaping hole.

”Wasn’t there a skull at this place?”

”It was, wasn’t it?” Jaina was clearly thinking of something. ”What do you make of this hole?”

”It is rather large and…hollow, isn’t it? It’s like the obelisk has been hollowed out or dug out somehow.” Anya may not be very studied but she was good at reading tracks and this was a strange one. She was beginning to see why Jaina was so preoccupied with this structure.

”And if it has been dug out, who did the digging and where did all the stone go?” Jaina’s serious tone contributed to a rising bad feeling. Anya did not like this block of stone that sat silently in the pale autumn sun. Not one bit. She mistrusted it and found it eerie. ”And where is the skull?” Jaina added.

The more Anya looked, the less did she like it. The obelisk was empty. That was the word. It was hollow and empty. As if something had been inside and now there was just a shell left.

”Red lights!” Lyana called out.

”Assemble!” Anya ordered.

”It’s alright, I’ve…”

The world flashed white and next they knew they were at Sylvanas’ command post on a stony ridge further out.

”…got you.”

”Kalira’s party.” Areiel instructed when she saw them appear. The ranger captain pointed northwest out over the Silverpine woodland and Anya kept her eyes peeled. There would be a second signal a minute after the first so that Jaina would have time to jump them to the command post and then pinpoint where she needed to move them next. ”Take Amora’s squadron with you and assist as needed. Be quick about it.”

”Yes, Ranger Captain.”

Another magical flare rose against the grey cloudy sky. Just one, that was good. They would have a little bit of time to position themselves.

”See it.” Jaina said calmly and the next moment stones and rock had been replaced by mossy woodland. Anya and Amora wordlessly divided the field between them. Anya’s squadron spread out to the right to scout.

They advanced across low ground between two hills with dense and high spruces creating a green twilight under them together with the mossy ground. In life Anya had loved the moss and the fallen boughs that made it so easy to move without making noise. There were dangerous things in forests but the forest itself she had always regarded as something kind to her. It hid and sheltered elven rangers. What i was to dark rangers, Anya could not say for sure.

Sounds reached the two squadrons from behind the next hill, sounds of snarling things crashing through the woods like no ranger ever would. Anya waved them all forward and Amora followed her squadron’s lead. On the other side was a road that winded its way through the forest and on which an unimaginative patrol of Scourge had been marching and found themselves facing Kalira’s rangers and deathguards. Ghouls scurried and jumped over each other followed by a teeming mass of skeletons, but well armoured ones. They kept their ranks and held shields up high to repel the rangers’ arrows.

”Jaina, come.” Anya whispered. They really had to spend more time teaching Jaina their sign language. ”I want you to break up that skeleton formation when…”

”Forwardz, my fine guard! Instruct zat rabble in ze ways of true Lordaeronians!”

Anya and the rest of her squadron watched with astonishment how two dozen deathguards emerged from the trees on the opposite side of the road and formed a tight line as they advanced into the Scourge left flank. The skeletons turned on the spot to meet the new adversary and left their impetuous ghoul comrades on their own.

”Jaina! Set fire to those skeletons, wherever they gather! Rangers, shoot the ghouls!” Anya hurried through her instructions as she nocked an arrow.

”We will assist Jaina and cover the deathguards.” Amora informed. Anya would have liked to be so sure and steady herself.

The air buzzed with arrows flying over the cracking of bones or chiming of metal upon metal when the deathguards and skeleton warriors hacked against each other. Small fireballs left Jaina’s hand in rapid succession and thinned out the rear ranks of the Scourge along with Amora’s squadron.

The ghouls had eyes for nothing else than Kalira’s rangers, to the point where they failed to pay attention to the odd concentration of low pines and bushes that straightened themselves and threw off their improvised covers of tied together branches just as the ghouls were about to run past. Several tumbled through the line of Kalira’s infantry with missing limbs.

”Abomination!” Alina warned.

Another unit of skeletons was running up to reinforce the former one and in front was one of the towering mountains of undead flesh with too many arms and entirely too few stitches holding its rotting form together. It was making for the end of the deathguard line but out of the trees crashed the next Forsaken surprise in the shape of a massive skeletal horse with blazing fires in its eye sockets carrying an equally massive knight with his sword raised.

”For land and lady!” Baron Frostfel made himself heard across the battle without difficulty as he charged. Anya did not enjoy the sight of him with his helmet on. It was too similar to what other, meaner, death knights might look like.

She would very much have wanted to watch the entire contest but had to keep her eyes on her right side. Kalira’s rangers were charging forward too and engaging the ghouls together with their deathguards. Anya kept an eye on Velonara in particular, although Vel’ was hardly at risk with Kalira and Cyndia next to her. Kalira had always been fierce but lately Anya had found herself wondering if some trace of the necromantic frenzy she had been hit by had stuck to Kalira. She was whirling through ghouls with her longsword in both hands and left very little in one piece.

”Everyone focus on the skeletons!” Anya ordered. ”And put some arrows in that sack of lard!”

Kitala giggled gleefully while she obeyed Anya’s order. Well, Anya knew she probably wasn’t very good at thinking up insults.

Baron Frostfel had either dismounted on become unhorsed but the limp of the abomination showed clearly that the loss of mobility had gone both ways. He dodged a wide sweep with a cleaver and somehow managed to project contempt despite having his face hidden.

”Zat zwing would embarrass a page!” Baron Frostfel’s greatsword blurred and the abomination roared as it lower arm hung uselessly from the elbow with a good portion of the tendons cut. ”You stand in ze presence of my fair lady, knave, at least pretend to know what you are doing!” he continued to taunt as he slipped between sword forms without much notable hindrance from the thick plate armour.

Jaina meanwhile had a clear shot at the reinforcing skeletons and smouldering holes was all that remained of the greater part of their formation. The rangers and deathguards could make short work of the rest. They were all beaten to reinforcing the baron by Kalira though. She sprinted through the remnants of the Scourge minions and vaulted over a huge rusty hook to hamstring the abomination with two vicious slashes. It staggered, toppled, and crashed into the ground amid the rising and falling blades of the deathguard.

”We-did-it!” Alina shouted, talking extremely fast as she usually did in times of danger.

”Good work everyone!” Amora praised. Anya was technically of similar rank but she secretly enjoyed hearing that from Amora anyway. ”Anya, we can be lookouts if you’d like to collect our arrows?”

Anya nodded and her squadron spread out to go over the field. Anya and Jaina went in the direction of the Scourge rear. Incidentally the direction with a very interesting conversation to listen to. If you just had to be passing by to collect your assigned arrows, that was. It wasn’t really eavesdropping in that case.

”My Fair Lady, zat was such an example of fine swordsmanship. Truly a delight to bear witness to.”

”Oh, uh, you were certainly…inspiring yourself, Baron Frostfel. Your speed is remarkable for someone wearing plate armour.”

Anya, being the experienced scout she was, noted that Cyndia and all the Naras had remained well within hearing distance. Several deathguards were also busy with something that required their proximity for some reason.

”Hrm, ah, one does ones best to stay in shape…”

Anya felt Jaina nudge her in the side and lowered her voice to assent.

”There are sure to be many arrows here, Ranger Proudmoore.” Anya whispered. ”Make sure we search the ground thoroughly.”

”Aye-aye, Ranger Lieutenant.” Jaina whispered back mischievously.

Preoccupied though she and the baron may have appeared, Kalira retained enough of a grip of her instincts to notice them skulking around. Anya was a little disappointed, but then again Kalira was very good and they weren’t actually spying on her.

”Hello Anya. And, well, thank you for the assistance. It seemed like you arrived to be in an excellent position. And you too, Ranger Proudmoore. Ambushing is certainly a novel experience when you are with us.”

”We had an excellent view of the field. We all saw the baron’s dashing charge.” Anya was sure that Baron Frostfel, who had taken off his helmet, would have been going red if he had been alive. ”And his equally dashing swordsmanship. The blade looked nearly weightless.”

Anya cast an unassuming glance at the not particularly weightless greatsword he carried. Jaina was quick on the uptake.

”I think Fair Lady Kalira is very brave too.” she said to nobody in particular but particularly not to Baron Frostfel. ”She personally saved me from the Scarlet Crusade’s torturer in Hearthglen despite suffering severe damage from the order’s Light magic. And it is obvious how much she cares for all her rangers, and would protect them to the last and then some.”

There were few things that could unsettle Kalira but Jaina’s earnestness had left her completely disarmed and struggling for words. Anya wondered if Jaina realised how perfectly timed her recognition had been when all of Kalira’s rangers were there to hear it too. If any ranger squadron could use an extra bit of encouragement it was right now probably Kalira’s.

Anya and Jaina hurried along to continue their search for arrows while leaving an embarrassed death knight and ranger lieutenant humming and clearing their throats, until Baron Frostfel deflected their awkwardness by asking Kalira of her professional opinions of the longsword versus the bastard or greatsword, if you were going without a shield anyway, which prompted an enthusiastic discussion that only two slightly snowed-in (Jaina had taught her that peculiar human expression) devotees could engage in.

On their way past a couple of casually lingering deathguards Anya was sure she heard one of them snicker. But she wasn’t quite sure. Did deathguards do that?

Someone who definitely did that and more however was Velonara, who intercepted them quickly.

”Anya, you mustn’t let Jaina say such things. She’ll turn us all into mushy softies before we know it, and how would that look?”

”Who says you’re not already there?” Jaina smirked back. Anya noted proudly that her newest squad member carried herself like a dark ranger in every way. Vel’ made a show of clutching her bleeding heart.

”Did you know they ride out on their private little raids when they think nobody’s noticing?” Vel’ whispered theatrically and pointed at her commander and the baron.

”No way.” Anya was almost sure Vel’ was making things up.

”Yes, they are, on my honour.” Vel’ looked left and right as if to make sure they were not overheard. ”It’s so sweet! Their own little bloody hunting expeditions with Kalira sitting behind him in the saddle, or before him sometimes lately. He’s totally her death knight in shining armour!” Vel’ tried like mad to hide a flood of giggles.

Anya found herself smiling more and more, caught up in Vel’s brighter mood, but Jaina did not look nearly as joyful as Anya would have hoped.

”The baron’s really a death knight? I mean, literally, with all that comes…?”

”The Scourge, well, they didn’t ask for his opinion…” Vel’ said, much less sure of herself. Anya felt the same, seeing Jaina’s preoccupation. She thought she could guess some of what would be going through her head.

But then the mage shook her head determinedly.

”You know, you’re completely right. Baron Frostfel deserves to be judged by his own actions only and not what the Lich King tried to turn him into and that is that. Paladins are hardly infallible either after all.”

”Jaina, do you think it would ease your mind to hear his views on Arthas?” Anya asked seriously. She knew the subject was dangerous ground to tread on but she also knew that Jaina liked the baron and would hate to see his origins, or what you called it, come between them.

”Oh, that is a fine speech.” Vel’ grinned with amusement at Jaina’s questioning look. ”Come on!”

Without waiting for an answer, Velonara hurried them along back to the imposing knight who was in the middle of dragging and throwing still skeleton warriors away from a huge pile of other bones with a mess of saddle and barding over them.

That was all it took for Jaina to drop any brooding over the fact that Baron Frostfel was a death knight in favour of instinctive compassion.

”Oh no, Baron, I’m so sorry…”

”What? No, no, zink nothing of it, he iz fine. But you would zink zat an undead steed of ze finest breeding would have developed just a tiny bit more sophisticated sense of humour zan playing dead, would you not?”

He was irritably addressing the pile of still bones on the ground. Used as she was to the various Forsaken eccentricities, Jaina still appeared a little lost seeing his behaviour.

”Up with you! Pull yourself together, old friend, we do have company.” Baron Frostfel kicked at the pile.

Then it did…just that. Literally, as literally as only a fierce undead war horse could when its bones realigned themselves into an immaculate skeleton inside frayed barding and a tattered saddle and with eerie flames lighting again in its eyes.

”Zat’s more like it!” Baron Frostfel mounted up without a second thought. His skeletal steed hardly reacted to the weight.

Anya had to admit that seen from below, it was sort of a long way up...

”Baron!” Velonara went to it without delay. ”We were having a discussion of our enemy’s death knights, amongst other things… Such as the Lich King’s champion which Ranger Proudmoore had the misfortune of being repeatedly failed by when she was lending aid to Lordaeron during the outbreak of the plague. So I was wondering if you could tell her what you personally think of Arthas Menethil?”

Right then and there, Baron Frostfel did little to prove worthy of his name. He could probably have given the Dark Lady a match when it came to burning gazes.

”What do I zink of zat upstart, spoilt rotten, insufferable brat who should never have been trusted to so much as wipe ze mud off ze greaves of worthier knights! What do I zink of zat double-crossing, cheating traitor who disbanded our order unjustly and unlawfully just because Uther had ze backbone to speak out against his atrocities instead of licking his royal boots! What do I zink of a man who turned his back on all who had offered him aid and friendship and zeir allegiencies! Zere were even talks once about zat Kul Tiran princess, fairest and wisest on land and zea and so on, zat ze moron broke up an engagement to, only to end up as ze lackey of Ner’Zhul and drag us all down with him in ze process…”

Anya glanced cautiously at Jaina. The mage was listening to the baron’s fuming tirade with something that looked like fascination and …relief, maybe. Certainly not with anything resembling fear of their chivalrous deathguard commander.

And she was turning redder than the dark rangers’ eyes.

”Arthas Menethil once had everything a prince could ever dream of and threw it all away.” Anya said meaningfully. ”He must have been extraordinarily dumb.”

”Quite right! And he was an amateurish jouster too, did I mention zat?!”

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXI. Charge and Chivalry

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

A long row of large pyres spread out before Jaina’s eyes. The dead and drying woods had offered plenty of firewood for them.

Just about the entire Forsaken field army was assembled. Jaina was with her squadron close to Sylvanas. She wasn’t feeling very well, but then who really did during funerals?

Forsaken with torches were having them lit by their mages and slowly setting the pyres alight. The Forsaken casters helped here and there as well but Sylvanas had insisted on performing the ceremony as simple and down-to-earth as possible. For that reason Jaina did not take part in lighting the pyres with her own magic. She had done a lot to earn the gratitude of the Forsaken but the sight of a living archmage burning the bodies of slain undead may still be provocative to some. It was at least not something worth the risk to find out.

The casualties were small compared to the Scourge, the plan had been a success in general. But the numbers of the Scourge were still likely to be vastly superior to those of the Forsaken. The Scourge could afford to lose armies to whittle down Forsaken companies.

”Brothers and sisters! In life and in death, your free will iz your due. May ze Scourge never touch you again!”

Even Baron Frostfel sounded sad and nothing like his usual self. When he spoke the last sentence Jaina thought unbidden of abuse associated with touching someone against their will. She grimaced. Maybe that metaphor wasn’t too far off. Instead of violating someone’s body through torture or rape the Lich King had violated their souls.

What would it be like to have had something like that done to you? It was impossible to imagine, of course.

The grimmest of deathguards had once been men who knew how to laugh and cheer. The woods had resounded with the elven rangers’ songs.

”Courage, Jaina.” Clea whispered to her from behind.

”I hate funerals.” Jaina muttered miserably.

”Come here.” Clea held up her cloak and pulled Jaina close so it hung down over Jaina too. She didn’t need it for keeping herself warm but it was very comforting.

All around there was a low murmur or chanting amongst the Forsaken that Jaina had trouble making sense of.

”What are they saying?” she whispered to Clea.

”Their own eulogies. As a people, you could say that we strongly dislike having anyone else speak for us so official speeches tend to be sparse.”

Jaina could easily imagine that. The words and deeds of the Forsaken had not been their own previously. She pressed closer to Clea and longed most of all to be back in her tent together with her squadron.

Once they had caught fire properly, the pyres burned quickly enough but it still took enough time for Jaina to start feeling stiff until the participants started to disperse. Some would stay to see to it that the fires burned out as they should and bury the ashes later.

Anya approached and took in the sight of Jaina wrapped in Clea’s arms and cloak.

”Are you cold, Jaina?”

”No, just a little stiff.”

”Sylvanas wants to see us in her command tent.”

”Right now?”

”We can’t afford to take time for long funerals. We ensure our lost ones can not be Raised again and say our farewells but that is all.”

It had been the same for the Alliance’s expeditionary army in Kalimdor.

Jaina fell in behind Lyana with Anya keeping close to her.

Sylvanas’ tent was not furnished for living in but dedicated to planning and keeping the army operational. Whatever small space was left was being used for storing fragile supplies. It had a main room with a long foldable table for maps and drawings. Sylvanas was at the head of it together with Baron Frostfel and some other commanders.

”Hello Anya.” Sylvanas indicated a free spot where the squadron could sit down on a couple of thick logs on the tent floor, chairs being a luxuary they would have to forego. Unfortunately the same went for braziers and fire pits, which made Sylvanas’ tent rather cold with only lanterns to illuminate it. If the number of people usually present in it had been living Jaina reckoned it would have gotten warm enough, maybe even stifling after a while, but…well, things were what they were.

Anya spread out her cloak next to her and stifled any potential protests from Jaina before she could make them. Jaina huddled close to her with Clea on the other side. She felt cold inside rather than from the raw autumn air.

”We are assembled. I will keep this brief as the day has not been pleasant for any of us.” Sylvanas begun curtly but the look she gave Jaina was not hard. ”You all saw the results of the latest battle outside. We have fought the Scourge successfully in the field and managed to hold our ground and decisively defeat a numerically superior foe with notably few casualties. They are still too many and they hurt us deeply since they bleed us of crack troops.”

Sylvanas made a pause.

”This is not sustainable. In the long run even victorious field battles of this magnitude will drain us more than they will drain our enemy. We must do even better.”

”Dark Lady, we picked the ground, we were prepared, we had the terrain.” Anthis Sunbow commented. ”I do not refute the conclusion but how much more can we ask for?”

Sylvanas nodded at her. Jaina admired this side of the Dark Lady greatly. No matter how commanding and domineering she was, she never reprimanded you for voicing concerns or questioning something.

”We fortify our encampment. We try to actually dissuade the enemy from attacking it. Now, as most of you are well aware our strategy has been to fight the Scourge in the open with the help of our magical assets –” She flashed a wicked smile in Jaina’s direction. ”– or in many smaller encounters where our elite forces can triumph with little effort. Our last engagement shows that the former option must be avoided. On the upside, we have now claimed enough territory to let our rangers torment any force that advances over a long time. But we can and must do even better than that I think.”

”Ze Scourge triumphs by its numbers and necromantic powers, in short.” Baron Frostfel continued after a nod from Sylvanas. ”Zere is little in ze form of professional military leadership and aptitude in its ranks of necromancers. While I suspect zat we will sooner or later encounter a general who knows his trade, zat still leaves smaller units without very competent commanders and without ze experience of irregular tactics. Zeir discount of ze merits of personal initiative can be turned against zem if we lure out detachments and lead zem into a waiting ambush.”

Jaina was getting caught up in the briefing now and didn’t think so much on how low she had been feeling. Seeing Sylvanas in her element was always encouraging, and rather captivating, and when she and the baron were in agreement about something military Jaina had grown used to consider it just short of an irrefutable fact.

”A raiding party of guards mixed with rangers should be able to best most of ze Scourge patrols and hunting packs we have seen so far. A swift force of rangers can move between zem and ambush pursuers or lend support against larger enemy contingents. Zanks to our archmage, we need not be overly bound by conventional logistics either…”

”So, Ranger Mage Proudmoore, how many of us could you actually bring with you when teleporting?” Sylvanas drawled.

”Well, the five of you were not too heavy to lug around last time, so I could probably take on a few more…” Jaina said irreverently. When Sylvanas spoke in that tone there was a little part of Jaina that wanted to, well, act her disobedient pet again just for the fun of it. Or her disobedient ranger mage, because Jaina had seen firsthand how dark rangers could be and she was one of them now after all.

”One single ranger squadron were not too much of a challenge for you?” Sylvanas had slipped from a drawl into an outright purring. ”Shall I give you another one to…stretch your limits?”

To be honest, Sylvanas already knew from the field battle that Jaina could teleport hers and Amora’s squadrons at once.

”Make that three and we’ll see how it goes from there.” Jaina said cockily, already in much better mood and looking forward to testing her abilities in that way. ”It might turn out to be something of a wild ride. I make no promises.”

”I will keep the reins in a firm grip, then…” Sylvanas had already won the staring game. Jaina was blushing something fierce. ”Now! Baron, what is your assessment of the mages your deathguards were assigned?”

”Hm? Ah, zey are…” The distinguished baron appeared a little bewildered. ”…perhaps not quite as eager and experienced as yours, but zey are good lads and lasses all of zem. Zey made a good account of zemselves.”

”Very good. Ranger Proudmoore, how do you feel about teaching them some new tricks?”



***



Jaina was kept very busy instructing the Forsaken mages during a long day. Their task was not to learn more destructive battle spells but to cast magical signals that other groups and scouts could spot. Jaina thrived because first, she got to teach magic and second, the system of magical signal flares rested on the same solid principles as the naval flag signals the Kul Tiran captains used to relay orders. The dark rangers and other Forsaken present did not quite grasp the brilliance of that however, they would only smile and express how they trusted Jaina’s competence whether it drew on maritime inspiration or not. She should have had Captain Bones and his crew with her to hammer the point in with these greenhorns and landlubbers, Jaina thought.

Her cadre of young mages, nine in total, would be partnered with either rangers or deathguards, with whom they seemed to have formed a bond despite their dour and grim disposition. They would then act as the group’s messengers by signalling with simple colourful flares in the sky. One red light would mean enemy in sight, two was a request for aid and three or several after each other was a distress call. Blue flares meant safe or defensible locations. Jaina had many more ideas that she was itching to share but Sylvanas had ordered them to practice and learn the most vital ones thoroughly before moving on to anything else. Which was probably wise, if a little boring in Jaina’s opinion.

Practicing and making everything work together was no picnic though. The rangers were masters of stealth but the same could not be said for the fully armoured infantry that would be integrated with them, and it led to a good deal of bickering inside the raiding parties. Nor were anyone involved used to working with magical signals and even if their meanings were clear and simple it took some thinking to determine how to respond and making sure everyone was onboard with it. Areiel, Kalira and Anthis were at one time engaged in a shouting match with each other and deathguard lieutenants Charles, Harry and Van Hed that made Jaina clutch her ears.

After another day of training and laying down plans they had finally come up with what seemed to be workable ways to respond to the signals. And currently it was literally a picnic, since Jaina was sitting on a stone eating.

The rest of the army had been equally busy constructing a fortified camp on high ground. Again the Forsaken managed to defy the military conventions of the living in that they had no need to bother with access to drinking water when picking their spot. The few living inhabitants could easily be supplied by conjuration spells. Now a small castle of rock and timber rose on top of a sharp ridge and on all accessible sides the path was littered with impediments, traps and hidden turns that only the defenders were aware of. The rocky sides of the Northern Silverpine Hills, bordering the vast Silverpine Forest below, also provided ample materials to defend an elevated position. Rocks and boulders abounded and had been piled to be rolled or thrown down on any approaching Scourge.

It would be a hard position to break which meant all the more time for the Forsaken to locate and hunt down the enemy necromancers and commanders. And the Silverpine Forest was ideal dark ranger hunting grounds, so long as the new participants could keep their clanking to a minimum.

Jaina thought their castle – she liked that term even if it was nowhere near a proper stone castle – was quite impressive and hoped it would keep it’s defenders as safe as they could be while Jaina was out with the rangers. For her own part, she could think of no safer place than where they were.

Yesterday, she had gotten a very unexpected request from the Mirrahs who wondered if Jaina was able to conjure pumpkins. Which happened to be something Jaina had never actually tried. But the idea had stuck in her head and after an evening of practicing she had in fact managed to conjure a small one, to the delight of the Mirrahs. Jaina had then realised that tomorrow would in fact be nothing less than Hallows Eve.

Two months. She had been with the Forsaken for two whole months. It was hard to grasp. On the one hand it felt like only a couple of weeks since she had disembarked the Banshee’s Wail. On the other Jaina might as well have known her ranger squadron for two years rather than months.

Jaina knew that there was a significant chance that she was exaggerating. The last weeks had been so intense, both horrible and fascinating, and she had rarely had time to catch up emotionally and think it all through. Things just happened all the time.

Perhaps she would one day see her adventures here in a different light. But she vowed that no change of perspective would intrude on the place in her heart that was forever reserved for the dark rangers. They would always be so very dear to her.

They would also always be completely priceless.

”Jaina, come and see this!” Kitala was calling to her and sounded like she had been laughing hard.

”Aren’t we training?”

”It will only take a moment!” Clea and Kitala were hurrying towards her with Anya and Lyana after them. ”Teleport us into camp now.”

Jaina raised her staff and in a flash they were in front of the encampment’s main entrance. Kitala urged Jaina inside and led the way to the central open space, perhaps a sort of a square, where an obelisk not quite matching those of the Scourge had been constructed. On its top was mounted…a merrily grinning carved pumpkin with a flickering light inside. Not only that, but a hood made of some old piece of cloth had been draped over it in resemblance to the hoods on the rangers’ cloaks. Carved into the wood of the structure, Jaina read with rising astonishment:

All hail the Pumpkin Queen

Dark Pumpkin watch over you

The example of Forsaken art had attracted quite a crowd and drawn its fair share of chuckles and appreciative exclamations. Standing in the middle of the crowd, with her arms crossed and with a pointed look at the obelisk, was Sylvanas.

”Lieutenant Eversong.” Sylvanas said evenly. ”Your squadron wouldn’t happen to know anything about this recent outlet of creative energy in our camp, would you?”

Jaina was biting her lips together and tried not to giggle. It was proving very hard.

”Perhaps Ranger Mage Proudmoore would be able to enlighten us about how that pumpkin mysteriously appeared in camp and ended up in its present position?” Sylvanas’ piercing gaze bored into Jaina.

”Uhm…I may have succeeded in conjuring a pumpkin for the Mirrahs last evening or so…” Jaina said innocently. ”…but I promise I have no idea of what became of it afterwards.”

”That is indeed a mystery, is it not, hmm? Because it is of course not like Mira and Marrah could be expected to come up with something like this.” Sylvanas said dryly.

Sylvanas didn’t seem dissatisfied for real, Jaina had learned to distinguish that much about her by now. The Dark Lady was usually frightening enough by herself so that it was easy to overlook the ways her mood could shift beneath the stern veneer of her offices. Right now it was a precious sight to see her be so relaxed about her rangers’ public unruliness. It made Jaina happy, and a little giddy, and mayyybe wanting to mess a bit with the Dark Lady.

”I think it is a very pretty pumpkin queen. The resemblance is remarkable.”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes and gave Jaina a long glare.

”The Mirrahs forgot the ears, though.” Anya chimed in. ”Maybe next year we can stick a couple of large carrots in it?”

The assembled crowd parted before Sylvanas when she deliberately started to walk towards Jaina and Anya, dark and looming and…extremely graceful. Jaina was completely forgetting what she had been thinking of saying next. Anya however managed to keep her head.

”If we cut the carrots in half and hollowed them out I think they could serve as pretty decent elven ears.” she suggested, and reached up to stroke quickly along Sylvanas’ ear when the Dark Lady towered over them, or at least made Jaina feel like she did.

”Carrots, Anya?” Sylvanas asked threateningly. The kind of threateningly that sent shivers down your spine and left you frozen on the spot. She reached out to take hold of Anya’s chin and tilt her head up just a little. ”Watch your mouth, my little pumpkin…”

”I’d rather watch yours, my Pumpkin Queen.” Jaina had to blink twice. Anya had a small little cheeky smile on her and was teasing her Dark Lady in broad twilight in front of everyone around them, while she clearly had eyes only for Sylvanas. ”The Mirrahs’ sculpting fail hopelessly to do your fangs justice.”

In response Sylvanas bared her teeth more, and her fangs were certainly very prominent this close.

”So you prefer them up close?”

”Not close enough…”

Barely had the words left Anya before Sylvanas lowered her mouth further and captured Anya’s lips in a kiss.

Jaina’s mage staff clattered to the ground, but she barely registered it. The tiny mental presence that was Jaina’s decency and manners was telling her that she should look away, or at least not stare like an idiot. But that presence managed just a tiny whisper now.

It was so…right. Jaina couldn’t find a better word for it. For all the domineering presence Sylvanas projected she was holding Anya’s chin with so much care. And shy, brave and frightened Anya was kissing her back like she had not a care in the world, like Sylvanas’ grip was the safest place in all of Azeroth for her.

When Anya had kissed Sylvanas on the cheek after receiving her Scarlet Sash that had been sweet. Seeing Anya and Sylvanas kissing like they did now, that was more than sweet. Mesmerising. Beautiful. How the world should rightly be.

Only the sudden coldness of Sylvanas’ other hand turning Jaina’s chin towards her pulled Jaina out of her transfixed moment.

”And you, Lady Pumpkinmoore, had best take care lest I decide to mount a cabbage head with cloak and staff for all to see.”

A snort of laughter escaped Kitala behind her and Clea and Lyana huffed with quiet chuckles. One of them had picked up Jaina’s staff and put it back in her hand.

”Y-yes Dark Lady…” Jaina breathed unsteadily. By now the other dark rangers and the bolder and merrier of the other Forsaken were letting their amusement show too.

”Let it be known!” Sylvanas shouted to the assembled crowd, proud and fierce and still with Anya and Jaina held steadily in her hands like two melting candles. ”That Hallows Eve shall belong to the Forsaken! Tonight we celebrate that in spite of everything done to us, WE ARE FREE! We are NOT monsters! We are not slaves, or tools, or minions of the Lich King or anyone else!”

The Dark Lady’s lips were glistening in the torchlight. Wet from Anya.



***



It was the day after Hallows Eve and Anya had rarely had such trouble focusing on her watch. Unless you counted some of the times when she had kept watch over Jaina before she could get rid of the stupid bracelets, which Anya had only let off with a warning because they kept Jaina warm.

Not only had Sylvanas kissed her in front of everyone around them, and especially in front of Jaina which had been so priceless, but she had done it so freely, so absent any care for what was proper or what her dreary station required of her. Like she once had been, before she became a ranger captain. Except of course that the Dark Lady kissed like no living ranger ever could, Anya was sure.

She hadn’t really dared to keep teasing Sylvanas like that in front of everybody. But she had done it anyway. And she longed to cause more mischief for her Dark Lady. Just enough to convince her to take a break from being a troubled Banshee Queen and to be Dark Lady-like with Anya instead.

Today was a busy day. Their newly formed raiding parties were sent out and Anya and her squadron were standing by to teleport in and assist wherever they were needed. It was a trial run of sorts, clearing out a sector around the Pumpkin Castle (the name had stuck after yesterday and the pumpkin totem was still on proud display) to assert control over the surrounding land. Jaina had not been content to wait idly and wanted to investigate the nearby battlefield where they had hunted the necromancers. She could teleport from there as easily as anywhere else and there was apparently something about the Scourge obelisk they had encountered that disturbed her.

They were right in front of it, Jaina investigating and the rangers spread out and keeping watch. Anya was actually not too worried, they had passed through the area recently and the Scourge had so far been anything but subtle.

More worrying was that Jaina looked displeased with something. Or perhaps not displeased, but concerned. She was frowning and circling the ruined pillar, and casting some sort of spell that Anya did not recognize.

”Anya, could you come over here for a minute?” Jaina said thoughtfully just then.

Anya climbed up to where Jaina stood in front of the obelisk.

”Did it look like this last time we were here?” the mage asked slowly.

Anya turned her attention to the pillar. It looked quite ruined, a great part of it had collapsed and left a huge gaping hole.

”Wasn’t there a skull at this place?”

”It was, wasn’t it?” Jaina was clearly thinking of something. ”What do you make of this hole?”

”It is rather large and…hollow, isn’t it? It’s like the obelisk has been hollowed out or dug out somehow.” Anya may not be very studied but she was good at reading tracks and this was a strange one. She was beginning to see why Jaina was so preoccupied with this structure.

”And if it has been dug out, who did the digging and where did all the stone go?” Jaina’s serious tone contributed to a rising bad feeling. Anya did not like this block of stone that sat silently in the pale autumn sun. Not one bit. She mistrusted it and found it eerie. ”And where is the skull?” Jaina added.

The more Anya looked, the less did she like it. The obelisk was empty. That was the word. It was hollow and empty. As if something had been inside and now there was just a shell left.

”Red lights!” Lyana called out.

”Assemble!” Anya ordered.

”It’s alright, I’ve…”

The world flashed white and next they knew they were at Sylvanas’ command post on a stony ridge further out.

”…got you.”

”Kalira’s party.” Areiel instructed when she saw them appear. The ranger captain pointed northwest out over the Silverpine woodland and Anya kept her eyes peeled. There would be a second signal a minute after the first so that Jaina would have time to jump them to the command post and then pinpoint where she needed to move them next. ”Take Amora’s squadron with you and assist as needed. Be quick about it.”

”Yes, Ranger Captain.”

Another magical flare rose against the grey cloudy sky. Just one, that was good. They would have a little bit of time to position themselves.

”See it.” Jaina said calmly and the next moment stones and rock had been replaced by mossy woodland. Anya and Amora wordlessly divided the field between them. Anya’s squadron spread out to the right to scout.

They advanced across low ground between two hills with dense and high spruces creating a green twilight under them together with the mossy ground. In life Anya had loved the moss and the fallen boughs that made it so easy to move without making noise. There were dangerous things in forests but the forest itself she had always regarded as something kind to her. It hid and sheltered elven rangers. What i was to dark rangers, Anya could not say for sure.

Sounds reached the two squadrons from behind the next hill, sounds of snarling things crashing through the woods like no ranger ever would. Anya waved them all forward and Amora followed her squadron’s lead. On the other side was a road that winded its way through the forest and on which an unimaginative patrol of Scourge had been marching and found themselves facing Kalira’s rangers and deathguards. Ghouls scurried and jumped over each other followed by a teeming mass of skeletons, but well armoured ones. They kept their ranks and held shields up high to repel the rangers’ arrows.

”Jaina, come.” Anya whispered. They really had to spend more time teaching Jaina their sign language. ”I want you to break up that skeleton formation when…”

”Forwardz, my fine guard! Instruct zat rabble in ze ways of true Lordaeronians!”

Anya and the rest of her squadron watched with astonishment how two dozen deathguards emerged from the trees on the opposite side of the road and formed a tight line as they advanced into the Scourge left flank. The skeletons turned on the spot to meet the new adversary and left their impetuous ghoul comrades on their own.

”Jaina! Set fire to those skeletons, wherever they gather! Rangers, shoot the ghouls!” Anya hurried through her instructions as she nocked an arrow.

”We will assist Jaina and cover the deathguards.” Amora informed. Anya would have liked to be so sure and steady herself.

The air buzzed with arrows flying over the cracking of bones or chiming of metal upon metal when the deathguards and skeleton warriors hacked against each other. Small fireballs left Jaina’s hand in rapid succession and thinned out the rear ranks of the Scourge along with Amora’s squadron.

The ghouls had eyes for nothing else than Kalira’s rangers, to the point where they failed to pay attention to the odd concentration of low pines and bushes that straightened themselves and threw off their improvised covers of tied together branches just as the ghouls were about to run past. Several tumbled through the line of Kalira’s infantry with missing limbs.

”Abomination!” Alina warned.

Another unit of skeletons was running up to reinforce the former one and in front was one of the towering mountains of undead flesh with too many arms and entirely too few stitches holding its rotting form together. It was making for the end of the deathguard line but out of the trees crashed the next Forsaken surprise in the shape of a massive skeletal horse with blazing fires in its eye sockets carrying an equally massive knight with his sword raised.

”For land and lady!” Baron Frostfel made himself heard across the battle without difficulty as he charged. Anya did not enjoy the sight of him with his helmet on. It was too similar to what other, meaner, death knights might look like.

She would very much have wanted to watch the entire contest but had to keep her eyes on her right side. Kalira’s rangers were charging forward too and engaging the ghouls together with their deathguards. Anya kept an eye on Velonara in particular, although Vel’ was hardly at risk with Kalira and Cyndia next to her. Kalira had always been fierce but lately Anya had found herself wondering if some trace of the necromantic frenzy she had been hit by had stuck to Kalira. She was whirling through ghouls with her longsword in both hands and left very little in one piece.

”Everyone focus on the skeletons!” Anya ordered. ”And put some arrows in that sack of lard!”

Kitala giggled gleefully while she obeyed Anya’s order. Well, Anya knew she probably wasn’t very good at thinking up insults.

Baron Frostfel had either dismounted on become unhorsed but the limp of the abomination showed clearly that the loss of mobility had gone both ways. He dodged a wide sweep with a cleaver and somehow managed to project contempt despite having his face hidden.

”Zat zwing would embarrass a page!” Baron Frostfel’s greatsword blurred and the abomination roared as it lower arm hung uselessly from the elbow with a good portion of the tendons cut. ”You stand in ze presence of my fair lady, knave, at least pretend to know what you are doing!” he continued to taunt as he slipped between sword forms without much notable hindrance from the thick plate armour.

Jaina meanwhile had a clear shot at the reinforcing skeletons and smouldering holes was all that remained of the greater part of their formation. The rangers and deathguards could make short work of the rest. They were all beaten to reinforcing the baron by Kalira though. She sprinted through the remnants of the Scourge minions and vaulted over a huge rusty hook to hamstring the abomination with two vicious slashes. It staggered, toppled, and crashed into the ground amid the rising and falling blades of the deathguard.

”We-did-it!” Alina shouted, talking extremely fast as she usually did in times of danger.

”Good work everyone!” Amora praised. Anya was technically of similar rank but she secretly enjoyed hearing that from Amora anyway. ”Anya, we can be lookouts if you’d like to collect our arrows?”

Anya nodded and her squadron spread out to go over the field. Anya and Jaina went in the direction of the Scourge rear. Incidentally the direction with a very interesting conversation to listen to. If you just had to be passing by to collect your assigned arrows, that was. It wasn’t really eavesdropping in that case.

”My Fair Lady, zat was such an example of fine swordsmanship. Truly a delight to bear witness to.”

”Oh, uh, you were certainly…inspiring yourself, Baron Frostfel. Your speed is remarkable for someone wearing plate armour.”

Anya, being the experienced scout she was, noted that Cyndia and all the Naras had remained well within hearing distance. Several deathguards were also busy with something that required their proximity for some reason.

”Hrm, ah, one does ones best to stay in shape…”

Anya felt Jaina nudge her in the side and lowered her voice to assent.

”There are sure to be many arrows here, Ranger Proudmoore.” Anya whispered. ”Make sure we search the ground thoroughly.”

”Aye-aye, Ranger Lieutenant.” Jaina whispered back mischievously.

Preoccupied though she and the baron may have appeared, Kalira retained enough of a grip of her instincts to notice them skulking around. Anya was a little disappointed, but then again Kalira was very good and they weren’t actually spying on her.

”Hello Anya. And, well, thank you for the assistance. It seemed like you arrived to be in an excellent position. And you too, Ranger Proudmoore. Ambushing is certainly a novel experience when you are with us.”

”We had an excellent view of the field. We all saw the baron’s dashing charge.” Anya was sure that Baron Frostfel, who had taken off his helmet, would have been going red if he had been alive. ”And his equally dashing swordsmanship. The blade looked nearly weightless.”

Anya cast an unassuming glance at the not particularly weightless greatsword he carried. Jaina was quick on the uptake.

”I think Fair Lady Kalira is very brave too.” she said to nobody in particular but particularly not to Baron Frostfel. ”She personally saved me from the Scarlet Crusade’s torturer in Hearthglen despite suffering severe damage from the order’s Light magic. And it is obvious how much she cares for all her rangers, and would protect them to the last and then some.”

There were few things that could unsettle Kalira but Jaina’s earnestness had left her completely disarmed and struggling for words. Anya wondered if Jaina realised how perfectly timed her recognition had been when all of Kalira’s rangers were there to hear it too. If any ranger squadron could use an extra bit of encouragement it was right now probably Kalira’s.

Anya and Jaina hurried along to continue their search for arrows while leaving an embarrassed death knight and ranger lieutenant humming and clearing their throats, until Baron Frostfel deflected their awkwardness by asking Kalira of her professional opinions of the longsword versus the bastard or greatsword, if you were going without a shield anyway, which prompted an enthusiastic discussion that only two slightly snowed-in (Jaina had taught her that peculiar human expression) devotees could engage in.

On their way past a couple of casually lingering deathguards Anya was sure she heard one of them snicker. But she wasn’t quite sure. Did deathguards do that?

Someone who definitely did that and more however was Velonara, who intercepted them quickly.

”Anya, you mustn’t let Jaina say such things. She’ll turn us all into mushy softies before we know it, and how would that look?”

”Who says you’re not already there?” Jaina smirked back. Anya noted proudly that her newest squad member carried herself like a dark ranger in every way. Vel’ made a show of clutching her bleeding heart.

”Did you know they ride out on their private little raids when they think nobody’s noticing?” Vel’ whispered theatrically and pointed at her commander and the baron.

”No way.” Anya was almost sure Vel’ was making things up.

”Yes, they are, on my honour.” Vel’ looked left and right as if to make sure they were not overheard. ”It’s so sweet! Their own little bloody hunting expeditions with Kalira sitting behind him in the saddle, or before him sometimes lately. He’s totally her death knight in shining armour!” Vel’ tried like mad to hide a flood of giggles.

Anya found herself smiling more and more, caught up in Vel’s brighter mood, but Jaina did not look nearly as joyful as Anya would have hoped.

”The baron’s really a death knight? I mean, literally, with all that comes…?”

”The Scourge, well, they didn’t ask for his opinion…” Vel’ said, much less sure of herself. Anya felt the same, seeing Jaina’s preoccupation. She thought she could guess some of what would be going through her head.

But then the mage shook her head determinedly.

”You know, you’re completely right. Baron Frostfel deserves to be judged by his own actions only and not what the Lich King tried to turn him into and that is that. Paladins are hardly infallible either after all.”

”Jaina, do you think it would ease your mind to hear his views on Arthas?” Anya asked seriously. She knew the subject was dangerous ground to tread on but she also knew that Jaina liked the baron and would hate to see his origins, or what you called it, come between them.

”Oh, that is a fine speech.” Vel’ grinned with amusement at Jaina’s questioning look. ”Come on!”

Without waiting for an answer, Velonara hurried them along back to the imposing knight who was in the middle of dragging and throwing still skeleton warriors away from a huge pile of other bones with a mess of saddle and barding over them.

That was all it took for Jaina to drop any brooding over the fact that Baron Frostfel was a death knight in favour of instinctive compassion.

”Oh no, Baron, I’m so sorry…”

”What? No, no, zink nothing of it, he iz fine. But you would zink zat an undead steed of ze finest breeding would have developed just a tiny bit more sophisticated sense of humour zan playing dead, would you not?”

He was irritably addressing the pile of still bones on the ground. Used as she was to the various Forsaken eccentricities, Jaina still appeared a little lost seeing his behaviour.

”Up with you! Pull yourself together, old friend, we do have company.” Baron Frostfel kicked at the pile.

Then it did…just that. Literally, as literally as only a fierce undead war horse could when its bones realigned themselves into an immaculate skeleton inside frayed barding and a tattered saddle and with eerie flames lighting again in its eyes.

”Zat’s more like it!” Baron Frostfel mounted up without a second thought. His skeletal steed hardly reacted to the weight.

Anya had to admit that seen from below, it was sort of a long way up...

”Baron!” Velonara went to it without delay. ”We were having a discussion of our enemy’s death knights, amongst other things… Such as the Lich King’s champion which Ranger Proudmoore had the misfortune of being repeatedly failed by when she was lending aid to Lordaeron during the outbreak of the plague. So I was wondering if you could tell her what you personally think of Arthas Menethil?”

Right then and there, Baron Frostfel did little to prove worthy of his name. He could probably have given the Dark Lady a match when it came to burning gazes.

”What do I zink of zat upstart, spoilt rotten, insufferable brat who should never have been trusted to so much as wipe ze mud off ze greaves of worthier knights! What do I zink of zat double-crossing, cheating traitor who disbanded our order unjustly and unlawfully just because Uther had ze backbone to speak out against his atrocities instead of licking his royal boots! What do I zink of a man who turned his back on all who had offered him aid and friendship and zeir allegiencies! Zere were even talks once about zat Kul Tiran princess, fairest and wisest on land and zea and so on, zat ze moron broke up an engagement to, only to end up as ze lackey of Ner’Zhul and drag us all down with him in ze process…”

Anya glanced cautiously at Jaina. The mage was listening to the baron’s fuming tirade with something that looked like fascination and …relief, maybe. Certainly not with anything resembling fear of their chivalrous deathguard commander.

And she was turning redder than the dark rangers’ eyes.

”Arthas Menethil once had everything a prince could ever dream of and threw it all away.” Anya said meaningfully. ”He must have been extraordinarily dumb.”

”Quite right! And he was an amateurish jouster too, did I mention zat?!”

[Alwyn]

I'm catching up with your latest updates. The Ranger Mage's magic sounds very useful (as well as the skills of Baron Frostfel)!

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXII. Learning and Listening

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Even out on a campaign everyday governing did not wait for queens, Sylvanas had quickly learnt. Especially when out on campaigning. But she was queen after all and at the very least nobody could force her to work in the campaign tent all the time, at least not if they wanted to remain on the good side of her ranger lieutenant.

Sylvanas kept penning a response to an inept suggestion that she authorize the establishment of a road authority directly under the queen. This slightly unspecified department’s first task would be to see to the roads between the Undercity and Brill, which was not an unreasonable idea in the long run. A few linked outposts outside their capital could serve them well. What was unreasonable was investing the resources right now and creating a secondary administrative organisation outside of the City Council she had established with the express aim of handling all of the civic matters. Sylvanas smelled a career-inclined or politically rivalrous rat here.

Eventually Sylvanas would need some sort of royal oversight of her growing kingdom. Varimathras was probably able, but she was not very keen on that particular candidate because of…certain past idiocies on his part.

The Dark Lady nearly bared her teeth at the very thought but took a hold of herself. It wouldn’t do to lose her calm. Her mage was trying to sleep.

Well.

Her mage should be trying to sleep.

Anya and her squadron had built a reclining seat out of a few logs and a bedroll, obviously with the intention of undermining any argument from Sylvanas that she had to catch up with governing. They had shifted camp twice in the week since Hallows Eve and were now in the southern parts of Silverpine Forest with an advance guard that would be able to retreat quickly to Castle Pumpkin if the Scourge managed to muster another army. While they could only put up wooden walls and staked ditches for protection, Anya had managed to make their living quarters more elaborate in each new campsite. Jaina’s tent now sported outer walls of interlaced braches against the wind, ditches against the rain, and a raised sleeping position for herself to keep the worst of the ground’s chill away. Incidentally the mage’s bed happened to be built right next to this woodland throne.

Sylvanas put down her finished response and allowed herself to lean back. While she didn’t feel the need for rest in the old way, this was comfortable. She hadn’t even frowned at the inane road-bureaucracy initiative.

Sylvanas was going soft with Proudmoore near her.

How could she not? Her mage was curling up with her head against Sylvanas’ outer thigh and her eyes closed, illuminated by the yellow-red light of the fire and smiling contently whenever Sylvanas happened to brush her fingers against her ear or temple, or comb through her hair. That was really becoming a habit. Next thing she knew Sylvanas would be as far gone as Clea in that regard. No piece of internal Undercity affairs deserved to be allowed to ruin this moment.

Proudmoore wasn’t asleep even though her eyes were closed. Sylvanas knew her better than that. No doubt her mage was itching to ask her a thousand questions like she always wanted whenever she had Sylvanas to herself. And the Banshee Queen of Lordaeron found that she had been sorely missing that.

”Hard to sleep?” she asked from the corner of her mouth and glanced at Proudmoore who opened her eyes wide, a little self-conscious. ”It’s alright. The rest of us tend to be restless at night too.”

Proudmoore took the bait and huffed adorably.

”The rest of you happen to be undead so that hardly counts.”

”You don’t say?”

Sylvanas decided to put the remaining pile of papers away. There would be plenty of night left later.

”And here I thought I had worked you thoroughly to exhaustion earlier. Evidently I need to add another round of high jumps next time.” Sylvanas teased.

”Thank you, those were quite enough. No need to ruin such a delight by making it repetitive.” Proudmoore’s pretended indignation could have fooled nobody.

”You’ve improved, my mage. You last longer than just a few weeks ago.”

That was true about more than Proudmoore’s endurance. Sylvanas spared a discreet glance at her mage’s arm. She had gained some muscle tone on her arms and legs and shoulders that showed when Sylvanas entertained herself with putting her squadron through a pass of exercising earlier in the day. But most of all Proudmoore looked so very much healthier now than in the first weeks. Her skin was redder and she stood straighter, and Sylvanas could honestly not spot a trace of the former haunting signs of malnourishment.

She was secretly quite proud of herself and her rangers for that.

”Do undead get stronger from training?”

What an odd question. And a good one. Sylvanas looked into the fire as she pondered it.

”If we do, it is not in the same way as before. That much I can say with certainty. We can learn new skills and improve our old, and if dexterity and reflexes can be improved upon I would hope the same could be true for other aspects of our bodies. The necromantic magic that courses through us bends to our will and lets us move our limbs and register what things we can still sense. Perhaps it can be turned towards other things.”

”So then you can train yourselves to sense and feel more than you do now?”

What a…kind thought.

”Possibly? No one knows for sure.”

”I would like to learn more about it.”

”You would like to become a necromancer?” Sylvanas quirked an eyebrow, amused by the idea. And really, it was not like she should be surprised to hear something like that from someone so insatiably curious as Proudmoore.

”Yes, I think I would. Not like the Scourge’s or anything like that, I would never take someone else’s life for my own benefit or force souls into slavery or something. But what I mean is, you’re here now. You, the Forsaken, exist and are a new addition to the world and someone needs to study necromancy and death magic seriously to understand how we can help you. And maybe it would be possible to understand how the Lich King’s control works too so more could be freed.”

How natural and unquestionable her mage made it sound, that helping the Forsaken through magical means was a noble and necessary task that someone needed to take up. How precious it was to hear.

A part of Sylvanas wanted to make Proudmoore know that. But the stronger part of her fell back to safer territory and teasing her mage.

”So you want to learn all about us, every embarrassing little detail, is that it?”

”Yes of course – or, I mean, not everything literally. Some things are kind of private, even if most things don’t seem to be amongst the dark rangers. And I would probably not want to know what goes into the Undercity’s canals either.”

At that, Sylvanas had to chuckle.

”Actually, I’ve been thinking about one thing about you.” Of course she had. ”Which may be very personal.”

”I am all ears.”

”I have seen you and your rangers fight. You are frighteningly good at it, you are fast and strong and just hopeless to score a hit on. Most of you must have more decades of experience than most human soldiers have years of.”

”Is it not said to be impolite to speak of a lady’s years among you humans?” Sylvanas smirked impishly and Proudmoore waved her comment away.

”What I mean is that when my city guards wanted to arrest you when you arrived in Theramore, I have no doubt you could have overpowered them rather quickly. My soldiers are good but not that good, and you were also much more used to small scale combat while Alliance footmen train to fight in large formations.” Sylvanas nodded appreciatively. She enjoyed hearing Proudmoore reasoning about tactics. Rangers who had paid attention lasted longer. ”But you still Wailed, which wasn’t very discreet because it is, well, a big loud scream.”

”I shall make a note about it for the next botched state visit.” Sylvanas promised dryly. The problem was that Proudmoore had learned to see through such deflections with uncanny ease.

”So why choose to do it?” Proudmoore asked rhetorically. ”I have seen and heard you Wail in battle a few times now and it doesn’t strike me as something you do lightly or eagerly. It strikes me as something you would do when you were very angry or very afraid for someone.”

Why did it feel like her mage could see right into her soul when she wasn’t even looking at Sylvanas? And why did not the prospect bother her like it should?

”You Wailed when the Scarlets had hurt me.” Proudmoore said very seriously and Sylvanas fought down the reflex to clench her fists at the mere mention of that despicable act. ”And when the Scourge came for your city you did it too. And when Anya was cursed and looked like she would be facing that abomination all alone.”

”One day I am most definitely going to have a long talk with her about that.” Sylvanas blurted out before she could stop herself.

”Me too.” Proudmoore said just as vehemently. That nearly made Sylvanas smile. Her squadron’s lieutenant would have a lot coming to her.

”Dark Lady…was that night at the harbour like one of those times?”

”Yes.”

But in a way it had been worse. It had been weeks worths of setbacks and frustration and the crushing weight of failure boiling down to that one moment. That moment when she nearly could have killed Proudmoore or her people.

”I am very sorry for what happened. It must have been terrible for you to have come so far and then be welcomed like that.”

Now, wait, did her mage interpret it as her guards having frightened Sylvanas into Wailing? Of course there had been much fear in the moment but that was hardly all there had been to it.

”As far as first meetings go…there is certainly room for improvement.”

”Banshee diplomacy…” Proudmoore giggled quietly into her blanket, both cheeky and shy at the same time, like she wasn’t sure if it was really acceptable to joke about.

”Theramorian welcomings…” Sylvanas huffed back derisively.

She stood up to put another log on the fire. There was no need to worry about the extra light when Proudmoore was in this mood anyway.

”Do all rangers who are banshees Wail? Because some of you are part banshees and some are not, right?”

”I and those who are banshees possess our necromantically preserved bodies. We are banshees in full, or whatever term you prefer, but having a physical body and one that is our own also, makes our existence a different experience than if we had not.”

”Does that make Wailing an…out-of-body experience then?” Proudmoore asked impishly.

Sylvanas pretended to growl threateningly and took hold of Proudmoore’s ear and tugged at it, but only lightly of course.

”Shapeshifting would be a more accurate analogy when we take our banshee forms. And before you deviate more from your original question the answer is no. Clea can to my knowledge not Wail any more than she can scream physically. Anya has never Wailed since she was freed and I believe she never will. Alina on the other hand does it too easily.”

”What are dark rangers who are not banshees? What do you call that kind of undead?”

”I heard the term ’darkfallen’ being used once or twice I think but to the Scourge we were only minions. Nothing more.”

”Darkfallen. That’s kind of…bland.”

”Undead taxonomy has yet to match the flashiness of arcane magic as an academic field. Thinking of writing a treatise of us one day?”

”Perhaps. Chapter three: Dark Rangers. Subspecies: Banshees and Darkfallen. Or should it be race instead? But that usually refers to looks and size and origin and you’re all distinctly elf-y. Habitation: Lordaeron. Diet: Warm water. If you insist on it.”

Any thoughts of work and the miseries of governance were kept far away by Proudmoore’s incessant talking. Sylvanas smiled at her sleepless mage.

”One day I will take you to meet some of our regular banshees. They tend to dwell around Brill, most of them.”

”What are they like?”

”Let us say that they can be a little dramatic from time to time.”

”Not at all like any of the rest of you, then…” Proudmoore giggled quietly. ”I have another very personal question I think.”

”You are one of us now, Ranger Proudmoore. If dark rangers are not personal with each other I do not know who are.”

”Yes, so I have noticed.” Proudmoore made a pause. ”Your time in the Scourge. I have never heard anyone talk about it except very briefly. Like when we walked from the harbour to the capital. Is that, well, something you never do?”

”If by ’us’ you include every Forsaken, I can not say.” Sylvanas said slowly. ”Among the undead elves and the dark rangers in particular I think the prevailing sentiment is to deny the significance of what the Lich King did to us. We would rather dwell on the memories and traditions of millennia than the atrocities inflicted during two years. Whether out of stubbornness, spite or self-preservation we cling to who and what we were to the best of our ability.”

”You want to be more than what he made you into.” her mage mused. ”I can understand that.”

”But something troubles you very much. What is it?”

”It’s just stupid…”

”Proudmoore…” Sylvanas said warningly.

”It’s just that I was afraid you – none of you – wanted to speak with me about those things because I am living. Which I would respect, but I have been wondering about it and it made me feel…left out at times. And now that you tell me that wasn’t the case I feel like I thought less of the other rangers than they deserve.”

Sylvanas stroked slowly across her mage’s hair.

”Do you really think it strange that you worried about that when so much of your stay has been clouded by judgement faced because you in fact are living?”

”Maybe not.” Proudmoore said in a much smaller voice as Sylvanas carded through her hair. Maybe that was the way to make her mage finally come to rest.

”The way I told you of some of the things we were forced to do was not gentle.” Sylvanas’ aching bad conscience about that resurfaced as she spoke. ”My squadron would have noticed that and how it affected you. Besides that you have been working yourself to exhaustion to aid us for the better part of the time and had more than your fair share of horrors. If your squadmates have withheld anything it is out of concern and not lack of trust, that I can promise.”

She could feel Proudmoore nod slightly against her hand.

”When we walked towards the Undercity I told you how a banshee is made to be a creature of rage and turmoil, that we all to some point struggle to contain. I think we all fear to let that rage loose for that is a path that leads to a Wail. We stay away from the subject of what we have suffered at the hands of the Lich King so that very same rage will not shape us more into his preferred shape.”

”If…if any of you would ever change your mind and want to talk about it I would want to be there to help if you need it. I am not afraid of your Wails. I can shield myself even from yours, Dark Lady.”

”My sweet little mage. If only you could know how much you help us already.”

Proudmoore yawned. She had closed her eyes again.

”Tell me about your rangers.” she mumbled drowsily.

”My rangers?” Sylvanas inquired, amused. ”Surely you know them well enough by know.”

”There are clearly things about them I don’t know everything about yet. And I like hearing you talk about them. Just a little. Please?”

Who could say no to such an adorable request? The Banshee Queen was not among them in any case. Sylvanas shifted to slowly running her nails along Proudmoore’s scalp and heard her mage sighing deeply as she begun telling.

”Clea is the squadron’s big sister. She has been that to Kitala since I partnered them even if it took her some time to admit it, but I dare say she has adopted Lyana and Anya too by now. She is often the steadiest of them, except when at sea as I have recently learned, and generally very sensible. She is considerably trained and her size is a source of both pride and shame to her. Female elves are supposed to be lithe and light and graceful and the prejudice that rangers are neither, and tall and broad-shouldered rangers least of all, has always weighed heavily on her. The antidote is compliments, the more blunt and blatant the better, and for Clea to be needed and protecting those she cares about. For those reasons Kitala is the best ranging partner she could have.”

Proudmoore breathed deeper now.

”Kitala can be as mischievous as Velonara but unlike Velonara she always knows when to stop. She can drop her foolishness in a blink when it is needed. She knows people far better than anyone – least of all herself – will give her credit for but not always how to act on her knowledge. Kitala was abused by someone very close to her as I know you have been told about, and was an unsuccessful ranger for a long time because of it. That has left a mark on her soul as well as her ear, and for good or worse she will rather hold tight to that than acknowledge the new kind of nightmare forced upon her by the Scourge. And I expect you to be well aware of how one makes Kitala feel better.”

Proudmoore shuddered suddenly and then lay still again. She mumbled something unintelligible and soon after small snores sounded from her bed. Sylvanas smiled, pleased with herself.

”Lyana is the quietest of the squad for the most part, unless anyone is sick or injured at which time even Areiel would think twice about getting in her way. She is one of the best field medics I have ever met. She does not have a particular talent for medicine, and it took her more time to learn her trade than many others, but she had the will and the persistence to study harder and longer and I reserve the right to not give a damn about anything other than the end result. Lyana can stitch up clothes as well as she can stitch up people and no one knows which one it was that led to the other. She is well ordered and acts as Anya’s quartermaster who keeps track of everything. I am sure her fascination with spiders can not escape anyone who gets to know her.”

There was the slightest rustle of canvas from the entrance. A less experienced ranger may well have missed it completely. Sylvanas leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed and her content smile still upon her lips.

”Anya is the squadron’s commander and there is no humbler or more caring ranger lieutenant in the corps. She thinks of everybody else first and herself last or not at all. She is the stealthiest ranger imaginable and sometimes so quiet you can forget she is there, which is a shame for her council is very valuable and I would trust her with everything. You could never have a better guardian or one more devoted to your wellbeing, my mage. I do not know what I would do without her and never want to find out. And she is as brave as she is ravishing.”

Sylvanas opened her eyes wide, looking right into Anya’s.

”And I would very much like a kiss from her which you will regrettably miss, Ranger Mage Proudmoore, which I must apologize for since you made the cutest face when she and I kissed on Hallows Eve.”

She beckoned for her ranger lieutenant to come closer and Anya was quick to obey. When Anya leaned over her Sylvanas grabbed her by the collar and resolutely pulled her down to catch her lips. They were smooth and soft and firm. They were alluring and addictive and Sylvanas was truly the worlds slowest dimwit not to have realised that sooner.

”I…wondered…if you needed something, Dark Lady?” Anya whispered into her ear.

”You mean something else?”

Anya looked innocently at nothing in particular while biting absently on her lower lip. She could compete well with Proudmoore regarding cute faces. And her fangs were peeking out again when she did that.

”We really ought to stop kissing only when Jaina is asleep. It’s becoming a bad habit.” Anya remarked.

”You may have a point. You had better apologise to her with a good-night kiss. I find myself quite pinned down at the moment for some reason.” Sylvanas argued when Anya looked like she would object about propriety or something equally meaningless. Then Anya glanced at the sleeping mage and any sign of objections vanished from her features. She climbed out of Sylvanas’ embrace and bent reverently over Proudmoore.

”Good night, Jaina.” Anya whispered and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. Maybe she shouldn’t have, for it made Proudmoore stir and grasp at anything within reach. Which happened to be Anya.

”I am not putting her to bed twice this night.” Sylvanas said with a smirk. ”Lie down and rest a bit, Anya. She has warmth enough for the both of you.” At that, Anya looked almost longingly at the mage who held her hand. ”I will keep watch.”

Smooth and agile and quiet as only Anya was, she took her boots off and unclasped her cloak. Her armour required Sylvanas’ help though when Proudmoore held her one hand. Anya cautiously climbed over the sleeping mage and crawled under the blankets behind her with the arm Proudmoore still held on to wrapped around her. Sylvanas watched how Anya closed her eyes and pulled Jaina closer to her. Her ranger’s nose fit against the dip of her mage’s neck and Anya was inhaling to feel the scent or the warmth of the hair. If a dark ranger could not sleep, this would at least be as close as any of them could get.

Her Anya and her Jaina.

For them Sylvanas would brave any amount of late night governing.



***



Westley would probably at no point in his earlier life have thought his present-day self sane if he had described what a typical day was like these days.

He was no longer fleeing from the undead, or toiling for the Scarlet Crusade to stay safe from the undead. Now he lived among the undead to stay safe from the undead.

Sort of. His earlier self would not have been interested enough to take the difference between Scourge and Forsaken into account. The undead simply had nations like the living did, Westley reckoned. And he was pretty lucky to have ended up in the right one. What if Cyndia had turned out to be one of the Scourge instead? That would most likely have been a short rescue.

She hadn’t though, and that was what counted. For some reason Westley had managed to end up with undead elves that wouldn’t touch him or Nick or Vicky, not even during their escape when Cyndia had been grievously injured had she harmed him. Nor had the other elves in her squadron of rangers, even if they were not exactly friendly either. Their commander Kalira was harsh, but never snide or insulting and fair enough in Westley’s opinion. Nara and Lenara were cautious and distant yet kept watch diligently.

Velonara was the hardest to place. She was the closest to Cyndia and after her the one who stayed nearest Westley and the horses on most occasions, sometimes when Cyndia was not around as well. She almost always seemed angry about something, or dismayed maybe. Once or twice Nick and Vicky had taken an interest and sniffed for strange carrot-filled pastries in her hands and whatever Velonara was angry about was not them at least. Which of course left little doubt about who was at fault in her opinion.

Westley had tried to make up with her, or whatever you should call it, a few days ago and describe how much he appreciated being allowed to stay with them. Which he honestly did. It hadn’t worked out as planned though. He had talked about how relieving it was to not have to worry about being kicked or beaten just because Wroth was in a foul mood, which was often, and being in a place where nobody wanted to eat his horses. Or him for that matter. It was then, when Cyndia had remained eerily silent and expressionless, that Westley had started to tangle himself in his explanation that Cyndia had answered his question about whether the dead ate with that dark rangers could do that but she would not. And she had kept her word and never raised her hand against them or let anyone else do that ever since they had started their ride for the Undercity.

It was just unfair how explaining something very simple became a mess when he was trying to explain it to Cyndia and Velonara. The longer he talked the more out of place did he feel.

Finally Cyndia’s face broke into a grin and she snickered almost maliciously.

”I drained two Scarlets of life during our sortie from the cosy little monastery.” she explained to Velonara. ”One being the scum responsible for the entertainment during my stay. Wroth. It sufficed to heal most of the damage.”

”Most of the damage?” Velonara asked a little suspiciously.

”The rest has pretty much regenerated by now, don’t be a baby Velonara. Our dutiful stableboy raised the relevant question of whether we undead ate, as mentioned, and I believe I answered in the negative unless one counted what he had seen me do earlier. I think my assurance that I felt pretty full at the moment and that he shouldn’t have to worry was a selling point.”

”And I am grateful for that. Really much.” Westley just felt awkward. It was like trying to talk to Amy Diane in his village when she had her crew of judgemental sidekick girls with her. It never worked out well. Why did girls have to stalk the world in packs all the time?

Not that any village girl was anything like Cyndia.

”Then of course, that was then and it has been a while…” Cyndia said as if she had come up with something. ”And all this running back and forth in the countryside does get you a little hungry, wouldn’t you agree Vel’?”

Her displeased ranging partner had slowly started to grin.

”Maybe it would be a good time for a snack.” Cyndia continued and flashed a smile that showed all her pearly teeth, as white as her wavy hair. ”Something filling from the local Lordaeronian cuisine…”

When Velonara started to snort with laughter Westley knew it was high time to leave. Human or elf, villager or dark ranger, girls in packs were the worst to make sense of. He was probably reddening all over too now. It felt like that in any case.

Some time later in the day Westley realised that in spite of everything Velonara had ended up laughing. Maybe not exactly friendly but not angry either. And hadn’t that been the whole point?

If he harboured any illusions of the conversation being forgotten Cyndia quickly dispelled them when the evening grew late.

”Good night, Westley. Good work. I’ll most likely eat you in the morning.”

Westley was very, very convinced that he could recognize more laughs than Velonara’s this time.

And the thing was that Cyndia kept saying that. Every night, always with a smirk.

Good night, Westley. Good work. I’ll most likely eat you in the morning.

It wasn’t quite that he worried about Cyndia making good on her threat. She wouldn’t do that. He was sure about it. Almost, at least. But Cyndia still managed to make him nervous all the time. Which maybe wasn’t so very strange given how hard and stern she usually was.

Today, Cyndia appeared with a new surprise in the shape of Jaina and Velonara in tow. Jaina was maybe a little bit crazy, but she was a lot easier to talk to than the dark rangers and genuinely kind and friendly.

”Hi Westley!”

”Hello. Good morning.”

”Can we feed the horses today? Unless there is a call-up and I have to take these two and jump?

Yes, sometimes Jaina talked really strangely. It was probably a mage thing.

”If you like. You know what they eat.” Westley shrugged, not really prepared for the request. Jaina had become steadily better at conjuring basic foods, having moved on from carrots to trying with apples. Maybe she wanted more practice.

”Great! Me and Velonara could curry them too.”

Westley was about to say that there wasn’t much water at hand yet until he remembered that, again, that thing with magic. To be honest Nick and Vicky were looking quite decent but they liked the company so Westley wouldn’t object to that either.

Velonara looked much more hesitant when she followed Jaina but then Vicky walked over and started to search for carrot buns and other treasures on her, and the dark ranger became busy trying to explain how Jaina was the one to ask and how her own pockets were empty.

”With them handling the grooming it seems we’ll have to do the ranging today, stableboy.” Cyndia remarked.

”I’m sure Kalira would have ordered hard drills all day from dusk to dawn!” Velonara teased.

”Don’t you mean from dawn to dusk?” Jaina asked.

”Whatever.”

”Drills it is.” Cyndia agreed. ”Did the Scarlets teach you anything about fencing, Recruit Westley?”

”Uh…no?” Westley admitted. Why would they? He had been a servant, a peasant. Nobody worth bothering with to teach fencing.

”Idiots, but that has already been established.” Cyndia said dismissively. ”Excuse me a minute.”

She disappeared into the nearby trees and a few sharp cracks later she emerged again with two stout sticks about half as long as Westley.

”Your noble blade, Sir.” Cyndia handed him one of them. There was only one way this could possibly end but Westley decided that he would at least try to make a good effort. He took the stick in his left hand. At least it wasn’t heavy. Nothing like a spit or a shovel.

Cyndia pointed to the flatter piece of ground next to the fence.

”Alright. First thing in fencing is mobility. And second. And third. And that is usually where stuffy instructors starts losing their audience because they think people will listen more if they say the same thing thrice and give the appearance of not knowing how to count or of memory loss.”

Cyndia started to circle around him and Westley assumed he was supposed to do the same.

”Back straight, shoulders relaxed, legs slightly apart.” Cyndia commanded. ”The point is to not tense up and stiffen when the enemy lunges!” she roared and Westley almost lost his balance when she did just that, but without stepping forward so her stick did not quite reach him. Westley quickly moved out of the way.

”Maintain your breathing. And your balance. You can’t keep falling over without being hit, that will take the fun out of it for your opponent and that is unsportsmanlike.” Cyndia kept jabbing at him high and low and gleefully pointing out things to improve, which were most.

”If you feel up to it, try to block my swings now.”

”And what if I don’t feel up to it?”

”Then you had best start running!”

Even Westley could see how slowed and obvious Cyndia’s overhead swing was and he caught it on his stick somewhat awkwardly. Now what?

Now another, it turned out. And another, steadily quickening in pace.

”Footwork, stableboy! Unless you want to remain here and be hacked to pieces.”

Westley did his best but there were uncooperative roots everywhere he needed it to not be and Cyndia and Cyndia’s swings and lunges were already quite a lot to keep track of.

But it was actually a bit fun too.

”I admit that you are better than I am.” Westley panted as he nearly failed to dodge a sweep from the side. He hadn’t gotten a single swing at Cyndia yet.

”Then why are you smiling?” She lashed out and hit his thigh moderately painfully.

”Because I know something you don’t!” Westley cried out triumphantly and quickly moved his stick to the other hand. ”I am not left-handed!”

He made a wild swing against Cyndia who backpedalled with a wide smile. It turned out that although it was easier to wield the stick in his main hand it was not easy to face someone still wielding it in her left.

”I have a confession to make.” Cyndia swatted his stick aside and left a stinging mark on his hand. ”I’m not left-handed either.”

Westley actually knew that just like Cyndia should probably know the same about him, but it was still enough of a distraction for Cyndia to come at him with her stick in both hands, beat his aside and somehow she managed to jump and vault over his shoulder in a black and white blur. The next moment he was pinned by Cyndia holding her stick against his chest and trapping his arms.

”The day is mine. Do I have your surrender, Master Westley?” Cyndia whispered smoothly close to his ear.

While he may be unable to move his upper arms, Westley had carried heavier burdens than Cyndia. He took hold of the stick with his own hands and then bent forward, lifting the elf up on his back like a rucksack.

A howl of laughter sounded from the paddock. Velonara and Jaina were apparently being less than effective grooms and watching the contest eagerly.

”Break in your new steed quickly, Sir Cyndia!” Velonara shouted as Westley tried to shake her off. ”He looks wild!”

Ranger or not, growing up with Amy Diane as your best friend taught you one or two things about keeping clingy people off your back.

Westley sprinted forward, crouched down and held tight to Cyndia’s stick.

”Yaaaaow!” The dark ranger shrieked as she flew forward over Westley’s head and landed in a laughing heap in front of him.

Westley panted and sat down heavily next to her.

Above them, Nick and Vicky were munching thoughtfully on conjured carrots and looking at Westley and Cyndia like they thought them exceptionally stupid.



***



”Dear Pained,

Like I have told you before, the dark rangers are incredibly useful.

Last day I woke up with Anya wrapped around me and I have never ever slept better I think.”



Jaina blushed and quickly removed the second paragraph with an anti-ink spell. She would have to come up with some less private example of the dark rangers’ usefulness, which shouldn’t be too hard. The trouble any ruler or captain would have with them would never be lack of competence or skills but their abundant mischief. It was probably not very surprising that Areiel had one of the whitest shades of hair of them all.

She put the draft away in one of her pockets. It would be time to go in a minute and her correspondence would have to wait until later. Jaina had improved her long range portalling lately and found that she had no particular difficulty transporting a busy queen and her less busy ranger bodyguard to her capital and back when things were looking calm on the Silverpine front.

Being able to go home and check up on things in person did Sylvanas good, Jaina could see very clearly. The Dark Lady had been growing more relaxed and casual as the Silverpine campaign proceeded without further notable setbacks but she was still dissatisfied unless she was sure that everything important was as she had left it or ordered it. As a ruler Jaina thought that Sylvanas was more than anything meticulous. She accepted that she could not control everything and to some extent had to rely on others and hope for the best, but still loathed it. Not because of personal distrust as far as Jaina could see – Sylvanas on the contrary gave subordinate commanders and officials a great deal of leeway so long as they delivered results – but more like a need to be everywhere and keep watch over everything.

It was probably understandable. Even if Sylvanas almost always managed to emit confidence she governed a nation that remained in the most precarious position. The slightest misstep could be the one that led to death or renewed enslavement for them all.

Jaina was more than happy whenever she could make things easier for her Dark Lady. And her squadron. Sylvanas had promised to give them a couple of hours off to drop by Loras’ family (for lack of an identifying surname) while she took care of matters of state. It was endearing how she always tried to make time for her rangers even when there was nearly none to spare.

”Ranger Proudmoore!”

”Coming!” Jaina hurried out of her tent. Sylvanas waited at the head of her small column and Jaina took her place at her side. She begun to cast the intricate portal spell, reaching across Azeroth’s magical lines and conduits and focusing on the keep’s entrance, on the side of it where it was unlikely anyone would be standing.

The glowing and pulsating oval disc of magic snapped into place before them, displaying a hazy view of the capital city.

Sylvanas looked appreciatively at her with a lopsided smile.

”In single file, my rangers, forward march.” Sylvanas commanded. Each looked unusually proper and well brushed. They knew that their Dark Lady could such a show-off.

Unfortunately there was nobody there to see the flashy entrance and they met few on their path down. The Undercity itself was all the busier and there the squadron had to dodge and duck through crowded passages and construction material just about everywhere. Any human ruler Jaina knew of would have made some sort of demand to be let through but Sylvanas led her rangers with effortless agility between the obstacles. For her this was sport. The Dark Lady was not the kind of queen who asserted herself through pomp and demanded subservience, she was a general of her realm who struck fear with her unannounced inspections, Jaina smiled to herself. If they would sometime visit Theramore Jaina would feel the need to run ahead and tidy up her rooms. She would probably not need more than a week.

Loras’ many children were apparently out and after escorting Sylvanas to her office they had to search through a winding track leading through some recently dug out caves. Jaina dearly hoped they were stable. Deeper inside they discovered the awaiting prize – a small underground pool of clean-looking water wherein seven small, but vicious, Greater Dire Murlocs dwelled and emerged to ambush hapless and unknowing dark rangers with splashing water.

While the laughing victims hurriedly put away bows and sidearms and other fragile things Jaina remembered her letter and quickly put it under her cloak to keep it safe from the wet.

The pool was not too deep, not enough to swim in but sufficient for a bath. Kitala demonstrated by throwing Clea in with a huge splash.

”Kitala!” Clea sputtered while the children screamed with laughter. ”I will so get you for this! Just wait!” If there had been the slightest tint of sincerity in her promise of retribution Jaina would maybe have considered being worried.

Clea took her predicament in stride and the murlocs had to hide, for a fearsome crocolisk – a dreadful river-dwelling creature of Kalimdor that Jaina had told about – was on the prowl. The crocolisk was not too successful though, for she repeatedly stood on her hands with her legs in the air looking through the lake’s bottom while the murlocs deftly escaped to another side and then had to resurface and scrounge up her face in confusion.

Jaina had been half asleep already when Sylvanas had told her bedtime story about Clea a few nights ago but she remembered it well enough to think that all the snooty elves who had thought lesser of her protective friend were dim-witted . Just looking at her legs on display made Jaina vow to do that other round of high jumps on her own accord. And damn, ranger pants were not tight when they got soaked, the were clingy.

And you shouldn’t ogle your sisters-in-arms, or maybe it should be sisters-in-cloaks instead, when they were being marvels with kids who deserved to be able to run outside ten times more often.

Hm.

Jaina tried her best to think of something else. Like…where was Anya? Had she disappeared again? Unbelievable. Or had she some business she needed to attend to, maybe that was simply the case. She was a ranger lieutenant after all, however unassuming she was about it, and had a lot of responsibilities.

Anya appeared after an hour or so, after a tense crocolisk hunt followed by a naval battle between Commodore Deathstrider and Kitty Starshadow the Pirate Kitten, directed and narrated by Jaina to add the right naval details and nicknames. Or at least Anya’s voice appeared.

”Jaina! Sylvanas wants to see you.”

”What’s the matter?” Jaina shouted back and wondered if she should be worrying.

”It’s not an emergency. The rest can stay, I’ll escort you. I think she needs your advice about something.”

Jaina grabbed her cloak and staff and curiously made her way out to meet up with Anya.

”Your shirt is all wet.” the dark ranger commented.

”Dire murlocs. We never saw them coming.” Jaina explained and heated the air along her front to dry some of the worst of it off.

It wasn’t too far to get to Sylvanas’ sparse quarters and nobody was out to accost them on the way. Under such circumstances it was quite pleasant to walk through the interesting Undercity, so long as they didn’t have to linger too close to the canals.

Anya knocked on Sylvanas’ door and opened it without waiting for an answer.

”I need to go see to some things. We’ll meet up here when it’s time to go back.”

Sylvanas was seated by her desk when Jaina entered cautiously. Anya had seemed unbothered by the lack of answer but you should wait to be let in into someone’s office and home.

As often, Sylvanas seemed to know what she was thinking about.

”That Lieutenant Eversong.” The Dark Lady pretended to click her tongue in disapproval. ”What are we going to do about her lack of manners?” She indicated for Jaina to sit down in front of her.

”I am sorry for stealing you away from a well deserved break. I need your help with something much more unpleasant.”

”Is it the kind of occasion that calls for a mana bun?” Jaina asked just a little cheekily. Sylvanas sounded so severe that Jaina wanted to lighten her mood just a little if she could. And when Lyana happened to be elsewhere and not in a position to threaten Jaina with fish soup for dinner if she ate too many of them, a cunning mage should not let the opportunity go to waste.

”For two, probably.” Sylvanas didn’t even smile. ”I require your advice, Lady Proudmoore, as a human ruler rather than as my ranger.”

Lady Proudmoore. It had been some time since anyone called her that. It almost felt stiff to hear it now.

”What has happened?” Jaina did conjure herself a mana bun but didn’t relish the taste as much as usual. Now she was concerned and thinking that she had better keep her energy up to be of good help.

”You are aware of the situation with certain Forsaken suspected of collaborating with the Scarlet Crusade and you have seen the greater part of the testimonies.” Sylvanas begun slowly and with palpable discomfort. ”They do not add up.”

”No, they don’t.” Jaina said quietly with a very sinking feeling of where this was going.

”Areiel has completed her investigation, meaning that she believes she has found whatever is to be found. The evidence is disheartening. Eleven of my people are heavily implicated, of which one is a child of thirteen. They are by all accounts guilty of the lowest kind of betrayal imaginable short of selling out their kin to the Scourge instead.”

”Are you…completely sure?”

”No. I am sure enough that it would be foolish of me to hope to discover anything else.”

Jaina nodded. She understood how Sylvanas meant.

”You are human and familiar with Lordaeron as it was before and you rule the remnants of her exiled people. The rest are with me or with the Scourge. In a way, you may know as much about how my people think as I do.” Sylvanas let the words sink in. ”For the moment there a few who know that I hold eleven Forsaken imprisoned and even fewer who know why.”

”What are you going to do with them?” Jaina put down her mana bun. On second thought she wasn’t feeling hungry any more.

”I am not sure what I should do. That is why I want to hear what you think.”

”Let the child go.”

”Let us for the moment assume that my vengeful people will let me get away with that. I take it that Lordaeron did not prosecute children acting on the instructions of adults?”

”IF they did it would have been wrong!”

”On that principle I can agree, even if elves and humans have something of a differing view on what age constitutes childhood.” The little trace of dry amusement was gone as quickly as it had appeared. ”And what would a Lordaeron ruler do with the other ten?”

”Sentence them for treason and...hang them.” Jaina choked slightly on the words.

Sylvanas looked evaluating at her. Calmly.

”You do not want that. And not for the fact that it would have limited effect on those who are dead already.” Sylvanas stated it rather than asked. ”You have seen some of the darker sides of my people, of us. You know what the Scarlets do to us. I think we can guess what expectations will be placed upon me as a queen dealing with traitors.”

”If you execute them you will at best be seen as just another ruler of Lordaeron who is no different from her predecessors.” Sylvanas nodded slowly. ”But if you show yourself to be more merciful you would appear less like the bloodthirsty undead that Scarlets and others like them claim that you are.”

”If those neighbouring rulers took such an interest in Forsaken internal affairs that my decision in this case would move them, yes. But at that point, would I not already have achieved my goal?”

Jaina clenched her teeth together, defiant but finding herself agreeing with Sylvanas’ reasoning. So long as the world still considered Forsaken to be monsters it would hardly care if their queen was lenient towards them or not.

”It could still turn out to be valuable.”

”Were other Alliance rulers like the Archmage of Theramore I have no doubt it would. Are they, though?”

It was almost a rhetorical question, but not spoken with malice. Jaina looked down and shook her head. But the topic of other rulers made her think of something.

”How about this, then? These acts of treason were committed outside Forsaken territory and jurisdiction or at the very least before you had laid claim to the land in question. The rule of the Banshee Queen of Lordaeron did not apply and while you condemn the actions morally you will not presume to judge acts committed outside your own kingdom. Since you are not the Lich King and do not presume to rule over all undead just because they are undead.”

”Clever…” Sylvanas smiled and there was almost an unspoken ’clever girl…’ in her vocal smoothness. Jaina would have longed for more of the same if the occasion had been anything else. ”A Quel’Thalassian court would likely be receptive to the argument and maybe our neighbours could be reassured by my concern for borders. The commoners of the Undercity may be another matter, though – and don’t answer that yet. I can see that you are thinking.”

”The territory where the crimes were committed was not under your rule…” Jaina spoke slowly, thinking out loud while Sylvanas waited for her with encouraging patience. ”…but that does not mean nobody ruled it. Because it was in fact…under the rule of the Scarlet Crusade. And therefore your people did in fact obey the lords of the land where they travelled, and should have been treated better by their former fellow Lordaeronians! And since they were not, since the Scarlets have proven themselves to be torturers and murderers, the traitorous Forsaken were oppressed citizens of the Scarlets more than anything else, who were threatened and tricked into doing bad things. Little wonder that you are now at war, after that.”

Sylvanas shook her head firmly.

”You make a spirited attempt at applying a level of civilization to our existence that is not there, Lady Proudmoore. The Scourge and the Scarlets are monsters to us that have hunted us since we regained our will again. We do not have a ’conflict’ with them, we are prey or we are predator. That is how my people see it.”

”Is it how you see it?”

”It is now. The Scarlets were given a chance to negotiate. They spat in my face and nearly cost me my mage. They will not be given another.” Sylvanas’ eyes blazed hotter as she spoke.

”They seek to kill every last one of you. You do not need to do their job for them.”

”What I need to do is keep this heterogeneous nation of traumatized malcontents from fracturing and leaving an opening for any of the far too many hostile factions of Azeroth to walk in and butcher us all. What I need is a quick and simple solution to keep peace and order in my capital, enough to prevent open infighting at the very least.” She help up a hand to stop Jaina’s imminent retort. ”You were not here to see it when the first envoys we sent out were confirmed dead and we learned that we were being rejected by each and everyone around us. Even Quel’Thalas. You do not know how close we came to fighting amongst ourselves in our anguish. Those who wanted to keep believing in the hope of friendship from the living were set upon by those who wanted us to turn our backs upon everything that breathed and never look back and then the other way around.”

”Do you truly think killing these wretched ten will bring the rest of your people peace?”

”No, I think the best I can hope for is that it would remove a source of internal strife.”

”And what if that backfires and they turn their bitterness on you, the tyrannical queen who killed the Forsaken who flocked to her hoping she would keep them safe?”

”That is not an impossibility and the idea is the least bad, no more than that. Although I suppose I could allow the relatives of the betrayed to take vengeance of their own if they wanted and let the resulting blame spread out. Since I, as has been established, do not claim to rule all undead and decide their own choices for them.”

Jaina made a sound of disdain.

”That will still be under your watch and would only change who you choose as headsman!”

”Then offer an alternative!” Sylvanas bristled and had finally raised her voice for real. She apparently realised that and closed her eyes while drawing a deep breath, most likely out of habit or as a calming technique. ”You do not need to convince me that what I contemplate is vile, Lady Proudmoore. You need to convince me that I can keep my city from rioting in my absence without resorting to vile acts.”

Jaina felt ashamed. Her heart still hammered against her chest but she hadn’t meant to start shouting like that at Sylvanas.

”I… I don’t… I apologise, Dark Lady. I…we shouldn’t be arguing.”

”You really do not want me choosing this course of action.” Sylvanas said, lower and softer now. ”Why is that?”

Jaina had argued strongly and she knew that Sylvanas recognized the points she had made. But she also knew that was not what Sylvanas was really referring to.

”Because…because each of them matters to someone regardless of what they have done…”

”Your father.” Sylvanas acknowledged quietly.

”I d-d-didn’t want it! I didn’t want it to end that way! It was pointless! We should have been able to do better!”

”Sometimes we only manage what we are able. Not what we should have been able…”

”Don’t do it.” Jaina whispered. Sylvanas did not answer.

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXIII. Death and Destruction

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

”Ambermill. Southernmost of Scourge strongholds as far as we can tell.” Anthis Sunbow indicated the infested town far below them.

Infested was the word for it. The ruins of old proper buildings were interspersed with summoned ziggurats and pyramids and everything under a fetid cover of blighted overgrowth.

”There are farmlands and some hilly country beyond.” Jaina reminisced. It was so long since she had last been here. Two long years, an age ago when the world had not known of Lich Kings and the land had been alive and blossoming. ”And Dalaran.”

Even Anthis, who did not know Jaina well, heard her change of tone.

”Your home.” she half asked, half noted.

”For a long time it was, but…the Dalaran where I grew up and studied was destroyed. Theramore is my home now, and it will be even though I would love to see Dalaran rebuilt as much as it ever could be.”

”Your past is not so different from our own.” Anthis said thoughtfully. ”Perhaps that is why you understand my sisters so well, Jaina Proudmoore.”

Jaina had truly never quite thought of it in that way.

Dalaran and Quel’Thalas. Anthis was right of course that they had both lost their homes to the Scourge and deep down Jaina knew that she had not dared to let herself think enough about it. Could it hold any weight though against the monumental fact that Anthis and all the others had also died, while Jaina had lived?

Yes it could, because for good or ill death had not been the end of Anthis Sunbow and her fellow Forsaken. They still walked the earth, beaten and battered by great cruelty but still their own, still themselves. If her stay with them had taught Jaina anything it was that undeath alone did not make a person what they were.

Of greatest and most important weight of all arguments however, was the uncontestable fact that no one with a heart in her chest needed a shared past or any other excuse to grow fond of dark rangers.

When the reports had reached them that the Scourge was finally congregating again it had put every other concerns on hold which also included the Forsaken prisoners that Sylvanas had yet to make a decision about. That, at least, Jaina was glad for. They had not talked any more about it and Jaina racked her mind about how to make Sylvanas change hers. She almost wished the battle would be hard and that she could perform some valuable feat that would make the Dark Lady more amenable.

The Forsaken field army was forming up a mile or so behind them. Jaina was with most of the rangers to scout ahead and skirmish against enemy scouts and advance units. So far they had not been met by any particular activity from the Scourge despite arriving in plain visibility. They wanted to be seen, and provoke the enemy into moving.

Jaina was with her squadron close to Sylvanas but wished that she could feel as close to her on the inside too. She was having an uneasy feeling about this day but bit her teeth tightly together and hoped the Scourge would come so they could get on with it.

”North side.” Anthis said calmly.

”South too.” Sylvanas noted in similar manner.

Jaina squinted a little and could make out vague pale shapes in the distance. Skeletons in rusting armour and cracked shields. They were marching in unison but so scattered that they could hardly form a coherent front. But it also meant that they could not be easily shot down.

”Fall back.” Sylvanas commanded and nearly made Jaina’s jaw drop. They retreated from the sight of a band of motley skeletons?

She was apparently not alone in finding it strange for Anya spoke up and gave voice to the same concern.

”We can take them on, surely, Dark Lady. Shouldn’t we pick off a few skeletons at least?”

”I know you can.” Sylvanas did not stop but invited Anya to keep walking next to her. ”The Scourge marched out on the opposite side out of sight and formed up in loose formation to negate our volleys. So far they have more or less rushed us straight ahead. Whoever is down there knows his business and I believe I will want a bit more preparation before I spring whatever trap he has surely prepared for us.”

After they had returned to the rest of the army Sylvanas set about organizing things quickly. Roughly half of the force was kept on alert and the rest sent out to fell trees. Jaina joined the latter and assisted with chopping through dried, but not rotted, wood with conjured ice blocks while the rangers spread out and kept watch. The dead and dried forests of Lordaeron was in surprisingly intact condition. Jaina realised the blight must have done just as much of a number on the worms and bugs that would otherwise have feasted on the dead wood. For a limited period of time, Lordaeron would actually remain something of a woodcutters gold mine so long as one could operate in its less than hospitable conditions.

When the Forsaken advanced again it was in full force through the woodland that covered their approach. The Scourge had not moved forward but something was happening around Ambermill that indicated that they were gathering or deploying worse things than the skeletons. Two large Forsaken wings held back and were partially hidden by the trees. In the middle emerged deathguards laden with stakes and thick logs strung together. They marched forty steps out in the field and piled and hammered the prepared sections into makeshift walls about chest height. At regular intervals in the palisade were openings and behind the wall sections the ground was littered with stakes of different height and hedgehog-like impediments of thicker logs with stakes protruding along them. The deathguard centre formed up in small units behind the staked ground and larger ones behind the openings.

”Ranger Proudmoore.” Sylvanas finally addressed Jaina in person and it was a relief to hear it. ”It is time to draw them out. Can you bombard the Scourge structures from this range?”

”Yes, Dark Lady. I can not aim as effectively but it will suffice for a show.”

Sylvanas nodded.

”Then start doing that. Once they move, pull back with Anya to the command post and await further orders.”

Jaina saluted her and focused on the task at hand. There were two or three pyramidal buildings she could see clearly, with crystal-like devices on top indicative of the Scourge’s magical armament. Ambermill was more than some insignificant outpost.

Significant or not, Jaina let loose chunks of ice hitting the structures from afar. The sloping sides would take some time to batter down but the defensive contraptions at the top was not so sturdy unless it was magicaly shielded in some way, and that would always require some form of energy being drained somewhere.

”Cease casting.” Sylvanas commanded curtly. Jaina hurried to obey. She had been so focused on her target and her channelling of magic that she had paid little attention to the rest of the field. The spread out lines of skeletons were back and advancing rapidly across the ruined farmland. Jaina sprinted towards the small height in the middle with Anya and the rest around her.

Areiel was there and commanding the centre as usual. She nodded briefly to Anya to wait beside her.

Animated skeleton warriors or their animators – it was not completely known how that control worked – were not quite so unimaginative as to disregard an open spot in favour of a wall of logs and once the first line of Scourge reached the palisade it inevitably resulted in more and more of them gathering and initially pressing forward at the openings where the deathguards awaited in stacked ranks.

”Reluctant, are we?” Jaina heard Areiel mutter to herself. The ranger captain apparently noticed Jaina’s questioning look for she pointed at the groups of skeletons clashing with the guard companies. They were not pushing and pressing forward like they usually did but just…engaged the Forsaken and nothing more than that. ”Anya, watch for skeletal magi.”

The second Scourge wave approached. Ghouls covered the broad field and moved swiftly instead of barrelling into each others’ path like they usually did when massed.

”Not bad.” Areiel complimented their enemy. ”Rangers! Ready!”

Jaina thought it was bad form to shout like that just after speaking in a perfectly civil conversational tone. You had no warning when you needed to clutch your ears.

From their hiding places behind the deathguard formations rose the dark rangers and black arrows criss-crossed through the air into the ghoul ranks, where they could do more damage than against the skeletons’ thin frames. Palisade walls were no match for a ghoul’s climbing abilities but in their bloodthirsty frenzy they thought only of going forward towards the next victim to tear apart with their claws. The stakes hidden behind the walls ensured that most climbs came to an abrupt stop, and those that were more careful and lingered after scaling the logs made themselves easy targets for the massed dark rangers. Few made it through to the heavy infantry waiting for them.

”Cease shooting!” Sylvanas commanded. ”Concentrate on those!” The Dark Lady pointed beyond the ghouls and Jaina actually gaped a little. Abominations, not scattered among lesser minions but in a tightly controlled line. And wide. The ground actually shook when that veritable wall of animated meat begun to pick up speed and barrel towards the Forsaken.

”Proudmoore! Behind them!” Sylvanas shouted again but her intention escaped Jaina. Behind them? Then something rose in the air and fell in an arc, faster and faster until it hit the ground behind the palisade with a sickening crunch.

Meat wagons.

Hidden behind the advance of the fat mountains of rotted lard, as Anya would have called them.

Jaina looked for an opening but found no good line of sight, so she called down ice from above. The late autumn cold made it easier for her. But the abominations were not something you could just put out of your mind at will and now the flung corpses of the meat wagons rained more frequently. They burst into pieces upon impact and a sickly, greenish mist exploded out of them. Jaina coughed and choked. She remembered seeing these blighted fumes at other times but that had been against living armies who needed to breathe. As it turned out however, undead or not the Forsaken needed to see and even their night eyes could not pierce dense fog.

The Scourge knew that well enough and kept throwing this miasmic ammunition right where the dark rangers were positioned.

”Spread out!” Areiel shouted. ”Don’t let them hit all of you!”

”Forward, scatter!” Anya ordered. Which way was forward, exactly? Jaina had been eyeing the opposite side of the field before her vision was blanketed with this stinking thing. She moved a little to what she thought was her side, away from Areiel. She tried to blow the mist off her with conjured wind but it was less effective when more was sucked into its place from other directions. If Jaina was going to make herself useful she had to get out of the worst of this stinking soup.

She navigated her way towards the right side of the centre and to her relief she found a clearer spot. The abominations were reaching the palisade and starting to smash it to pieces while point-blank black arrows sought them out. The dark rangers adapted, but they had been delayed and impeded enough to have lost valuable time. On the brighter side Jaina could now see the Scourge artillery almost clearly and for all its metallic appearance a meat wagon was not much tougher than ordinary catapults.

Especially when you struck the throwing arm from above.

As Jaina struck piece after piece with boulders of ice the projectiles dropped less and less frequently. But what were those things in the sky? Gargoyles?

There were five of them, but if they were gargoyles it was a large breed indeed. No, these were something else entirely. They looked like an undead centaur with a four-legged lower body and human-like torso. Complete with leathery wings that were too thin and torn to bear their weight but fly or gallop through the sky they did anyway. They seemed to carry maces or sceptres and their heads were grinning skulls wherein otherworldly green light shone.

Jaina had seen that sort of skull before.

In an obsidian obelisk where there had later been a hole.

Was this what had crawled out of it?

They made Jaina uneasy but she was an archmage of Dalaran. A ranger mage, the first of her kind, and they were about to learn the meaning of that. A shield snapped into place around her and Jaina gathered a prodigious fireball over her hand. If those stone-heads insisted on flying in such a dense formation…

Her fireball shot straight for them and…fizzled. The spell itself crumpled and went out, like a puny candle snuffed out by the wind. Jaina frowned but wasted no time. If the weather was too chilly for fire she was at heart a frost mage after all.

The thick ice lance that should have slammed into the chest of one of the creatures broke and shattered like the most brittle of icicles. What the hell was going on?

Her shield had disappeared and Jaina recast it irritably. Tides, was nothing working as it should now? She bit back her worry and let loose a storm of ice from above, driving it into the things with strong gales.

They just flew, or rode, through it. It could have been a light breeze and summer rain for all the good it did.

Again, Jaina’s shield disappeared but now she knew it was no oversight. Something had removed it. Five of something.

Five creatures that her spells did not touch and who consumed them at will.

Completely out of ideas Jaina froze on the spot while her mind wrestled with the unfathomable realisation that she no longer had her magic to call on. That was until the first bolt of burning hit her and grazed her shoulder. Jaina cried out and staggered and saw how more bolts rained through the air for her.

Jaina stumbled to the side, frantic and close to panicking. This was a nightmare but real, a nightmare where you could do nothing but run too slowly to escape what was chasing you. Her foot slipped and she fell while ghostly fire fell on her and one bolt left her cloak in singed tatters. As Jaina rolled onto her back she found herself looking right into the grinning skull mask of one of the terrifying creatures as it dove for her with its sceptre raised and brimming with more eerie flames.

Jaina reflexively raised her arms in front of her.

The fire stung and burned and Jaina screamed while she watched how her shirt caught flame and her skin blistered and blackened before her horrified eyes. It hurt so much! Had she even hands left or would there just be smoking pieces of bone left of them? She had to crawl away but she couldn’t crawl because her hands were ruined and –

CLANG!

The ringing impact of something against metal somehow drowned out all other noises.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

Indomitable and unyielding, and not a little unnerving with his high elven helmet obscuring every feature, Irizadan towered over her with his shield raised and shifting to deflect fiery bolts as fast as Jaina could swing her practice sword. The impact was not negligible for she could see how he braced and shook with every hit, but he remained on his feet. He swatted one aside with his blade which made the bolt crackle and fizzle as the energies impacted and spread along its broad side and haft. Whatever Irizadan’s gauntlets were made from they did in any case suffice to leave him seemingly unaffected by it. The elf was a whirlwind and a rock all at once.

Jaina had tears in her eyes from the pain but through their blurring haze she could see the five monstrous shapes descend. They were coming for her, and if they could not break through warded high elven panoply from a distance, they could get beyond it on the ground and simply snatch Jaina away or beat her to death with their sceptres. Perhaps Irizadan too. There were five of them after all.

The green eyes of the closest seemed to leer at Jaina and she found herself unable to look away, until an explosion of light and obsidian pieces blinded her momentarily. Irizadan had hurled his double bladed spellbreaker spear, or sword, like a javelin into the eye socket and the Scourge creature hissed menacingly, but that hiss was drowned out by a storm of far worse screams.

The sky filled with torn and smoking black streaks as dark rangers in their banshee forms fell on the Scourge monsters, each with a darkfallen sister in her arms. Sylvanas threw Areiel with abandon at the back of one creature and dove for the next without a second glance. The air became complete chaos when dark rangers hacked away at the wings and eyes of their enemies and all but literally dragged them down towards the ground. The foremost of the Scourge’s monsters, the one with Irizadan’s blade in its eye, rolled and turned about in the sky with Areiel glued to its neck and severing piece after piece of it with a curved sword.

In the middle of it all Jaina had time for the out-of-place realisation of how extremely easy both Irizadan and Areiel had gone on her in the practice ring. And that the thing they fought was going to crash on her.

Irizadan had noted the same, for he swept backward with his one foot and nearly kicked Jaina out of the way before he planted his soles and bent forward to brace for the impact. The mass of obsidian and leathery carapace tumbled against the ground and –

CLANG!

It hit the elven tower shield with the sound of a town bell ringing. The impact threw up a cloud of dirt and debris from the ground that briefly blinded Jaina. Through the settling dust and lingering mists from the meat wagons’ projectiles she saw the spellbreaker crouching, pushed back a full step when the stony limb had rammed him. Irizadan slowly rose, stretched his neck from side to side, and spat contemptuously at the ruined thing on the ground before him. When he bent down to pull – or tear – his blade back out Jaina saw how his shield was staved in and bent greatly out of shape.

But the skull’s green light had finally gone out.

Dazed, furious, worried and spiteful, the dark rangers emerged and reassembled. Several were wounded, having been badly beaten or had their limbs crushed by the falling Scourge monsters and the bombardment.

Infinitely worse was the heart-wrenching sight of Areiel with a long ranger in her arms wrapped in her black cloak. The ranger captain limped and the cloak’s hood fell aside.

The light had gone out of Anthis Sunbow’s eyes too.

”Send forth both wings! Trample that accursed place to dust!” Sylvanas shouted, smoking and furious. ”Mages to the front, deathguards to shield them!”

Jaina whimpered. Her injuries were catching up to her, and no matter how horrible she felt for Anthis and all the other dead around her, they were hurting. She was a mage too but how could she help in this state, how could she…

”Out of my way!”

Out of the thinning mist rushed Lyana with her cloak billowing like wings after her. She knelt down almost before she had stopped and nearly tackled Jaina when she skidded to a halt right next to her. The dark ranger was frantic when she reached inside her belt for a glass bottle in a protective leather case.

”Not again, not again, not again…” Lyana mumbled almost like a prayer when she took Jaina’s arm in her hand and poured the contents of her healing potion over the devastated skin. ”Not again, not again…”

It burned, it chilled, it warmed and it calmed. Lyana ripped – no other expression did it justice – another potion from her belt and drenched Jaina’s other arm and hand in the balming fluid. Jaina gasped in almost relief, not daring to truly feel yet. Next thing Lyana had pulled her close and down so that Jaina half lay in the dark ranger’s arms while Lyana forced a third healing potion into her mouth.

”Not again, Jaina, not again, not again…” There was almost something pleading in Lyana’s voice. Jaina wanted to tell her that she was starting to feel much better, but she was not among those who possessed the skill to speak coherently with her mouth full of healing potion. The best she could do was to try and pat the dark ranger’s cold arm as reassuringly as possible.

Areiel had sunk down beside them and at any other time Jaina would have groaned inwardly at the ranger captain’s appearance when Lyana insisted on bottle-feeding her like a babe in her arms. But what did it matter now? Anthis Sunbow lay dead less than three steps from them. Jaina tryingly held out a hand towards Areiel while dutifully drinking and swallowing all of Lyana’s no doubt painstakingly well-made potion.

Areiel took her hand and despite everything she was smiling sadly.

”Lyana knows her potions.” She ran her thumb over Jaina’s skin – tender, raw but whole.

Holding Jaina’s bottle with the same arm she kept around her neck, Lyana reached back and handed Areiel a fourth.

”Those don’t work so well on us anymore.”

”Nor are they useless.” Not even Areiel dared argue with Lyana’s tone and obediently uncorked the potion.

From the denser clouds appeared Anya and Clea. They hurried forward until they caught sight of Anthis on the ground and bowed their heads in silent farewell. Both sat down next to Areiel and spread their cloaks around her. It was practically pointless since the cold did not hurt them but Jaina thought it was a very touching gesture.

”Rest well, sister.” Areiel sighed and raised her bottle of healing potion in salute to Anthis.

Jaina wanted to get up. There had to be enough fussing about her now. At least she was still alive, unlike…

”Kitala!” Jaina cried her name out, suddenly conscious of her squadmate’s absence.

”I sent her to stand guard by the palisade with Ire.” Anya reassured her. ”She is alright.”

”I… My magic couldn’t touch them!” Jaina burst out and felt a desperate need to explain herself. Irizadan had had to risk himself because of it. The rangers had been left to fight without her aid. ”All my spells, it was…like water running through your fingers…” she rambled until Areiel shook her head.

”Jaina. You faced a foe you could not have prepared for. These…these mage destroyers are something none of us has seen anything like.”

”Destroyers.” Anya said quietly with her eyes on Anthis. ”They destroy us all. I hate them!” A lone tear trickled down her cheek.

”Let us return the favour…” Areiel snarled.



***



Cyndia Hawkspear leaned back against a tree overlooking the smoking ruins of Ambermill’s Scourge stronghold. Some parts of the original town was probably salvageable, should anyone ever want to live here again. But not much.

She poked distractedly at the fire they had lit for Westley’s sake and enjoyed the sensation of warmth in the air. It was a great spot they had found with a flat cliff face and trees shielding them against the wind from most directions.

Cyndia’s squadron was hunting down Scourge remnants and patrolling the area but those left in one piece after the storming were quickly scurrying off to whatever stinking hole that rabid ghouls belonged in.

They would be approaching Dalaran soon. Hopefully those fancy wizards would deign to hear them out.

Otherwise this whole ordeal would start to seem pretty damn stupid.

Vel’ and Westley were sitting beside her. Nick and Vicky were tied close by, chewing on some very unseasonally fresh apples. Bloody cheating, Cyndia smirked.

She didn’t really get why Vel’ had dragged her over here, and why she wanted to hang out with Westley being in the same forest all of a sudden, but it sure made things a little bit less messed up.

”Westley. You know I kind of don’t like you.” Velonara said with characteristic subtle charm. ”Because you’re a Scarlet bastard and my big sister almost gets herself killed wanting to keep you alive.”

”Yeah, I kind of noticed.” Westley said ironically while Velonara stared ahead and chewed on nothing like she did when she didn’t know how to say something.

”But the ing thing is that you still got me Cyndia back and that is a damn important ing thing and so I kind of think I have to sort of like you a little damn bit. Or so a lot of wise guys like to tell me lately.”

Cyndia couldn’t resist the opportunity.

”Language.”

”You’re one to ing talk!” Velonara punched her lightly in the shoulder while Cyndia smirked.

”Well…thanks, I guess?” Westley suggested questioningly while Velonara struggled with what she clearly wanted to not have to say.

”Yeah, well, so I reckon I should kind of hear your side of the story. Especially since Cyndia won’t talk to me.”

”Hey! I talk to you!” Cyndia protested.

”No you don’t!” Vel’ was just being whiny now in Cyndia’s opinion. ”You never want to talk about what happened to you. And… And that has to be alright. It’s your thing to decide. I can’t push it on you. I know that, alright? But I can’t just go around and imagine things all the time either. I can’t bear it. So…so I’m gonna talk to Westley. And you don’t have to hear it and I’ll…I’ll try not to bring it up if you don’t want to.”

Cyndia wanted to just walk out of this and drag Vel’ with her, honestly. Why couldn’t people just let stuff be? Was it so hard? Was it too damn much to ask for? Cyndia did her chores, she looked out for her squadron and she looked out for Westley. She was bloody…functioning, wasn’t she? And Vel’ just had to insist on clawing and scratching where Cyndia would prefer her to leave the scab untouched.

Vel’ needed it.

Deep down Cyndia guessed she knew that. Vel’ needed to know, for her own personal and selfish reasons because otherwise she would go crazy from doubting and wondering and imagining what it must have been like.

And that was just what Cyndia would have done in her place. And she kind of bloody loved Vel’ for being the way she was.

”Fine, have it your way.” she relented. ”I’ll sit here listening to your wallowing in our shared misery.”

”I’m touched.” Velonara stuck her tongue out at her. Then she turned serious again, dead serious in fact. ”Westley, why did you join the Scarlets? If it is acceptable that I ask?”

Politeness from Velonara? They yet lived in an age of awe and wonders.

Westley shrugged.

”They were the only ones left. Everybody else were dead, or undead. There was just me and Nick and Vicky.”

”And the Scarlets took you in?”

”Took us in…I guess that’s one way to put it…” The way he said it gave Cyndia pause. She knew that kind of detachment and underlying bitterness. And Vel’ did so too but it was very obvious that it wasn’t what she expected to hear. ”Do you think I wanted it?! I only stayed for Nick and Vicky’s sake!”

”No, I… I guess I don’t know what I was – ” Westley had stood up and walked off to calm the horses who were disturbed by his outburst. ” – thinking.”

”Nice start.” Cyndia huffed. ”Congratulations.”

”It’s not like you’re helping.” Velonara sulked.

”Sometimes you’re plain hopeless talking to people, do you know that?”

”Then what would you recommend I say, oh high and wise and mighty one?”

”What are you so bloody interested in knowing?”

”Why he joined the Scarlet ers and then all of a sudden ran off with you! What’s his deal?!”

Cyndia looked meaningfully ahead and Velonara clenched her eyes shut in frustration.

”My deal are those two.” Westley sighed and sat down. ”They’re all I have.”

”How did that make you end up in a cellar with Cyndia?”

”Because Wroth brought me there.”

”The creep who kept her prisoner?”

Westley nodded.

”What for?”

”He wanted me to be like him. To make me be like him.”

”And…what was that like?”

Westley made a disgusted grimace and stared ahead with a dark look on him, like he didn’t know where to begin or perhaps not how to explain something.

”Wroth was a butcher. I mean he actually worked as a butcher. He…hated animals. He hated anyone who was not a human. Town wanted to throw him out because he made the beasts, well…squeal. A lot. Said it disturbed the peace. So you can guess he didn’t really like me.”

Cyndia knew an understatement when it jumped into her face.

”He thought I was a traitor because I cared for a couple of horses and a real man shouldn’t do that, and should show them their place. Meant beating them up. But Nick and Vicky were good enough riding horses that he couldn’t touch them and since I did a good job I was allowed to keep caring for them. But the squires and others who didn’t have their own would just walk in and take them whenever they wanted.”

”What did he do?” Cyndia asked lowly. It was some time since she had said anything.

Westley didn’t answer for some time. He looked into the fire like he was thinking something over. Then, reluctantly, he rolled up his left sleeve and showed a jagged and ugly scar on the forearm.

”Last autumn. I was chopping firewood and told him the axe was blunted. He punched me in the face and put my arm on the block and said we should test how blunt it really was. He didn’t chop my hand off, just threatened to, but then he put the edge against my skin and cut.”

”…the ?” Velonara made a disgusted grimace. ”Why?!”

”What do you mean ’why’, there was no why!” Westley snapped irritably. ”He did it because he could. Get it? I was a…a horse-loving weakling who should be taught better, or whatever.” he said with stinging contempt that Cyndia found did not sit well with her. It sounded too much like contempt for himself.

”Right, I get it.” Velonara said apologetically. ”He did these things often?”

”At first, yeah.” Westley noticed their expressions. ”That means…well. I came to the monastery last autumn. I would have starved in winter if I hadn't. He kept beating me or kicking me or breaking things I worked with throughout that autumn and most of the winter. Kicked my wheelbarrow into a ditch first day I was working under him. I never said anything. I couldn’t. I was afraid they’d take Nick and Vicky from me or Wroth would do something to them.”

Westley coughed. Or choked, maybe.

”Then there was one time when he left me out in the cold and had me cut logs that would have taken days to finish. I would have frozen to death long before that. I walked back inside the walls on my own and the guard captain slapped me in the face and shouted at me, but I guess somehow they got back on Wroth too because he stopped beating me in plain sight after that. He got more…deliberate. I think I was more afraid of him afterwards.”

”And you had to stay to keep yourself fed. And your horses of course.”

”Yeah.” Westley shrugged. ”It would have been worth it. We survived the winter. And the undead didn’t come for us there. The Scourge, I mean…”

Velonara and Cyndia both grinned at him.

”Trust me, you probably wouldn’t have wanted the Dark Lady knocking on the gates either.”

”Then they brought in Cyndia and Wroth…”

”Wroth did what?” Velonara demanded.

”Burned her.” Westley forced out.

Cyndia stared into the fire. She did not want to listen anymore. But neither did she want to leave Westley’s side right now. This was unfair. She couldn’t let Westley give Vel’ the account she should have.

”Heated irons.” Cyndia said quietly. ”And Light magic.”

With a choked scream Velonara flew up and into her. Cyndia groaned but Velonara paid her no heed and irrationally went over her arms and throat and face and every other inch of visible bare skin despite her body having regenerated its wounds long since.

”I guess Wroth would have been satisfied that he managed to make me scream like a good little beastie?”

”I don’t know, honestly.” Westley spoke slowly. ”The times he brought me down it looked more like you resisted.”

Cyndia laughed mirthlessly.

”You were down there and you let him do those things?!” Velonara all but screamed.

”Get a hold of yourself, Vel’!” Cyndia forcibly pulled Velonara back down. ”For all Westley knew I was still Scourge. Actually bloody mad that you even thought of rescuing me.”

”You screamed.” Westley said and choked on the words. ”You weren’t a monster. You were…being hurt…” He swallowed several times. ”You’re not wrong, Velonara. I saw it. Wroth made me watch what he did. More than once. I could smell through the window… I’ll never get that smell out of my head.”

Cyndia kept a firm grip on Vel’s arm.

”And I didn’t do anything to help her until Wroth was going to kill Nick and Vicky. And I can’t say anything against that I would probably had let Cyndia die if he hadn’t decided to. So I damn well understand if you don’t think much of me.”

”But you didn’t let me die.” Cyndia almost whispered it. ”When it came down to it that piece of brought his doom down on himself because he tried to make you torture me and you wouldn’t. I saw that much. You wouldn’t touch his twisted tools.”

Westley shook his head. Cyndia thought he looked sick.

”He punched you so you doubled over. You retched. He called you names and said you were weak. He wanted you to hate me like he did, right?”

”Guess so…”

”Was he going to butcher Nick and Vicky as punishment when you weren’t up to it? He boasted how he was going to torture them when you broke me out.”

”I don’t know…”

”You could have ridden off with them and never looked back, stableboy. Instead you took on a monastery full of Scarlet crusaders to save a ghostly woman you’d never traded a word with.”

As Cyndia spoke, she felt strange. This was one of the rare times something felt so refreshingly ing right to say. Westley sure as hell deserved better than to walk around beating himself up like she was sure he must do. It was a bloody damn wonder he had kept it together the way he had.

And if Vel’ still refused to see it Cyndia would damn well have to talk to her in earnest.

”Westley. You are not a coward. You protected Nick and Vicky all this time. You stood up to Wroth and beat the crap out of him with his own damn poker when he pushed you too far. And if you had not I would have ended in that cellar.”

Cyndia turned to her petulant, grouchy, bad-mouthed and absolutely irreplaceable little ranger sister.

Velonara slowly nodded. Reluctantly, and looking a bit uneasy.

”You got me my big sister back. I will always be grateful for that. And…and Nick and Vicky are kind of really cute.”

The fire was dying down. Kalira would be expecting them in an hour or so for a nights patrol too.

When Velonara put the fire out and Westley was untying the horses, Cyndia just briefly put her hand around his neck and found herself speaking the words with absolute sincerity.

”Good night, Westley. Good work.”

She added with a half-smile.

”I’ll most likely eat you in the morning.”

[Alwyn]

It sounds terrifying for Jaina to encounter foes who could remove her shield and resist her magic. I wonder if her curiosity about the rangers might provide an idea (if she can't use her magic to weaken these enemies, maybe she can use it to strengthen her friends?). Good updates!

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXIV. Presumption and Probability

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

It was two days after the siege of Ambermill. Sylvanas was back in the Undercity and had been hurrying through a great deal of tasks, tasks she did not have the time or inclination to tend to at the current time but even less opportunity to delegate as things stood. It was imperative to deal with them quickly as she had certain far more vital concerns on her schedule today. Not least the funerals for Anthis and the rest of the fallen rangers.

Sylvanas had spent the last half hour briefing Varimathras on the siege and the mysterious destroyers, as her rangers had taken to calling them, deployed by whoever had commanded the enemy. She did not exactly relish it but there were reasons why she kept her chancellor around after all, and his expetise on the Scourge a very compelling one. Sylvanas thoughts on the debacle with the shackles notwithstanding, the dreadlord was anything but stupid. He had an especial knack for grasping the main point of a problem and the overlying large lines in a conflict. That was probably why he excelled at both manipulation as dreadlords did, and administering the Undercity Council.

If only she had been able to trust him without the many reservations she had very good reasons for having.

”…No, this new unit resembles nothing I am familiar with.” Varimathras leaned back with his claw-like nails joined, which was the dreadlord’s way of looking contemplative.

”Which means it is a new addition? Or that the liches kept secrets from you dreadlords?” Sylvanas asked pointedly.

”I would assume they did, and consider it unwise to rely on the opposite. Me and my brothers were tasked with keeping watch over the Lich King and the Scourge as a whole, rather than running it. But of course you know that.”

Being a former Scourge general herself and having been a part of its despicable campaigns. It was immaculate deference and at the same time snide.

”And the Lich King himself? Could he have engineered these things without your knowledge?”

”We failed to anticipate his rebellious actions through the means of his champion and we were also taken by surprise by the Burning Legion’s defeat and that champion’s sudden return. It stands to reason that more things could have escaped our notice, and that a magically immune type of undead could obviously have served the Lich King well in his ultimate confrontation with the Legion.”

”You use the past tense. What would have changed? I would assume the Legion would return at the first opportunity.”

”Naturally. But by then I expect that My Queen will have carried out the task for them since long.”

Which was correct. The Lich King would die next after his loathsome champion. But not because she did any demon’s bidding.

”Who commands the Scourge in the south?” Sylvanas asked directly, although she was aware that Varimathras’ knowledge would be obsolete at best.

”Obviously we can rule out the Lich Kings champion, who would never bear to let it remain a secret if he was arrogant enough to return.” Even her chancellor was reluctant to speak the name. ”The vast majority of the regular liches were employed near Icecrown for necromantic research or the raising or creation of new undead and structures that could be summoned. With my own kind no longer in place the most likely candidate would be another death knight. They were with few exceptions deployed in and around Lordaeron and know the land well.”

”And which ones would have commanded in the south?”

”That is more than I can say.”

”Your lack of usefulness is beginning to disappoint me, dreadlord.”

”My Queen. Until just about the time of your…secession…the Scourge did not operate as a kingdom or an army where rulership or military command was delegated. Certain amounts of independent action was required from different agents, such as yourself, to fulfil their tasks but there was never a command structure in any real sense. All power and control over the undead stemmed from Ner’zhul and even his highest servants remained no more than that. We Nathrezim did not concern ourselves with which minion was sent where so long as our will was obeyed. What petty death knights or otherwise who operated in the north or south was of little importance to us.”

”Perhaps you should have paid better attention. Then things might have worked out quite differently.” Sylvanas gave him a hard smirk but in truth she felt no triumph. Circumstances outside her own control had weakened the Lich King’s grip on her will and other circumstances had allowed her to lead the Forsaken into what counted as freedom for them. It could all have gone in many different ways.

”Perhaps we should. Ner’zhul’s treachery was counted on of course but not the time and scale of it. If we had shown more foresight his champion could have been dealt with.”

Not a single shift of tone or stature betrayed any emotion from Varimathras. Sylvanas allowed herself to show neither in return as the dreadlord salted that wound.

If, with or without demonic aid, she had succeeded in slaying Arthas as she had been so close to.

What would she have done then? Would she be able to lead the Forsaken with as much determination after the deed was accomplished?

”This unknown commander of the Scourge at Ambermill…”Varimathras continued. ”What was his style? Presumably we are dealing with something vastly different from the ordinary necromancer coven with delusions of being generals, so I assume a death knight is the likeliest guess to start with?”

”No, he failed to anticipate my flanking attacks even though it should have been second nature to count on something like that. He threw all his strength in the centre at one time. That is not conventional military tactics, at least not sound ones.”

”I see.” The dreadlord made a pause. ”And how about unconventional tactics, such as eliminating key strategic assets even at the cost of a lost battle? Such as the Scourge can recover from in a matter of time.”

”That is the most easily discernible objective. They deliberately focused their artillery and their heavier units on our centre where my rangers and I fought, along with this new magic devouring creature.”

”A troubling discovery. They are by all accounts the result of very accomplished necromancy.” Varimathras paused before continuing. ”Is it possible though, that they were a contingency rather than an ambush planned beforehand?”

”Possible. But the point is moot in my opinion. Whoever commanded the Scourge still sent them all forward against my ranger mage and considered their use and revelation an acceptable cost to eliminate Jaina Proudmoore.”

”Ah, yes. The human mage has made herself known.”

”She does have a name, Chancellor.”

Varimathras did not acknowledge the mild admonishment and Sylvanas did not press the point. It was something that struck her as instinctively repelling about lingering on the subject of Proudmoore in the demon’s presence. Perhaps because of the harm he had caused her by supplying the loathsome fel-induced shackles.

”I will be meeting with the City Council in full tonight before returning to Ambermill. We will enter Dalaran tomorrow.”

”With her?” So Proudmoore was ’her’ now? An improvement, at least.

”Yes.”

Sylvanas did very much not like how her chancellor leaned back with his claw tips touching and his green gaze utterly inscrutable.

”At which point the Kirin Tor’s archmage will finally be reunited with her own kin…” Varimathras said slowly.

”Meaning?”

”An observation. The balance of power will have shifted dramatically at that point.”

Sylvanas did not like this new angle at all but she signed to him to continue.

”My Queen currently possesses the archmage as a hostage and – dare one say – the goodwill of her?” Sylvanas did neither confirm nor deny that. ”In the middle of Dalaran where the former will no longer be a fact the latter may prove…insufficient. Humans are after all more reliably motivated by fear than affection.”

”Proudmoore is different.”

”Undoubtedly. For now.”

Sylvanas said nothing but inside she boiled with something that was close to anger. Would there be not no damned end to the sickening lack of faith in Proudmoore because she was living? They were winning the bloody campaign thanks to her! How many times would she have to go through this? How many battles and how many scars on her mage’s back would it take for her to earn the trust she deserved?!

“My Queen knows her rangers best, obviously.” Varimathras continued. “It goes without saying that their esprit-de-corps and comradery coupled with their supreme fighting skills would impress anyone inducted into their ranks. Especially if that person had found herself in an alien and unsettling environment where the safety and reassurance provided by belonging would be so much more alluring. But will that person feel the same after black has given way to Krin Tor purple?”

“It will only be for one day. Less than one day.”

“Negotiations have a tendency to be drawn out.” Varimathras commented almost wryly.

Sylvanas had truthfully not counted on that, not really. At least not on her and her mage staying inside the city for any extended time. She was set on saying her thing and leave the wizards to debate at a safe distance and with Proudmoore still with her. That was the most reasonable approach as a Forsaken, given that she had decided to attend in person to add the reassurance her personal involvement would signify.

But Proudmoore was after all not Forsaken. She would not be entering a city filled with what was currently at best only potential living enemies. She was an archmage who had grown up among the now largely ruined spires.

She would be coming home.

“Long or short, these negotiations places the Forsaken Queen in an exposed position.”

“The Kirin Tor would not turn on one of their very own.” Sylvanas scoffed. “Should it come to that, I am not without means to defend myself and my ranger mage would teleport us out at any sign of trouble.”

“Let us assume that we were in the Kirin Tor’s position.” Varimathras leaned back just slightly. “Let us assume also that we for various reasons did not desire an undead nation growing at our doorstep. What would we do?”

“Proudmoore as a Kirin Tor agent in our ranks? Preposterous.” They had just about kidnapped the mage and Sylvanas had been close to killing her with her Wail in the process. Belore!

“I concern myself with facts, My Queen. Facts and probabilities. Deliberate or not, My Queen’s ranger mage has been instrumental in enabling the Forsaken to clear Dalaran’s northern flank from the Scourge. We also know for a fact how instinctively mistrusted – at best – all undead are among the living. Let us consider what the Kirin Tor knows and sees. They see one undead faction crumble before another, if anything. A rising new power, a Banshee Queen instead of a Lich King, but undead all the same. Improbably, but not impossibly, the Kirin Tor knows that it was her envoys they murdered on sight and that it was on her order that Grand Marshal Othmar Garithos was slain.”

“Thank you for outlining our political position, Chancellor, it was news to me.” Sylvanas dripped with sarcasm but in truth Varimathras was by all means factually correct.

“Now, consider the position of the Kirin Tor. They are lacking any sizeable army and their city lies still largely in ruin. They lack the means to openly confront either us or the Scourge in the field without great risk. Then, through a most improbable development, they find one of their best mages in Forsaken custody. Gaining the Forsaken Queen’s trust.” Varimathras paused slightly. “What would be their most probable course of action?”

Sylvanas could not resist. She barked out a loud and hard laugh.

“Proudmoore as a Kirin Tor spy sent to manipulate me into doing the wizards’ bidding, is that it?”

“A far more preferable method for a militarily weakened city, would it not be?”

“Is your memory by some chance escaping you? She nearly got herself killed striving to preserve undead lives.”

And would have stood a far better chance at doing that and escaping unscathed had it not been for Varimathras’ own doing.

“By ensuring that undead Forsaken and living Scarlet Crusaders would cease fighting each other and focus on the greater threat that is the Scourge. Something that would hardly be out of alignment with the Kirin Tor’s interests.”

Sylvanas shook her head. Varimathras had not been there. He had not seen Proudmoore’s compelling agitation and insistence after speaking with her rangers, not seen the naïve but so very moving naked hope she conveyed. And Sylvanas would not be the one to tell him about it.

“It can safely be assumed that the Hearthglen negotiations did not go according to anyone’s plan, no matter what agenda the mage has.” The dreadlord said it almost dryly. “And the Scourge attack on the capital would have been equally inconvenient. But the fact remains that every action taken by her after that has contributed to the weakening of both the Scourge and the Forsaken forces in Lordaeron while costing Dalaran nothing. Two undead nations, balancing each other out and ensuring that neither has resources to devote to crushing the last living stronghold of note in the region. Now, faced with the prospect of one of them rising to – possibly – dominance, what would be the Kirin Tor’s next logical move if its leader presented herself within striking distance?”

“Not gaining another enemy by provoking hostility through regicide could be a fine start.” Sylvanas pointed out but she knew how hollow that argument rang. If you assumed the overlying hostility towards the undead that Varimathras did, and that all experiences so far pointed at, then Dalaran would at worst have a less coherent enemy to contend with. And at best see the Forsaken fracture and fall to infighting like the Scourge previously had. “So? The risks are huge as they have always been, so what else is knew? And even if the Kirin Tor planned something along these lines, how the hell would they have cooked up the plot to let Proudmoore become my prisoner initially? That is madness.”

“On that I agree. A far more easily imagined interpretation of events is that she has chosen to stay, and a far more relevant question is why. How is it that the human, living mage has not yet used her very apparent portalling abilities to leave at the first available opportunity?”

“She sees the greater need to unite against the Scourge.” Which was true and important, but not nearly as important as the way Proudmoore smiled when dark rangers were watching over her, the way her eyes sparkled when she talked with them, the way she wore her ranger cloak like it was woven of diamonds.

Because her heart was large enough to hold a place even for undead.

Or so Sylvanas had told herself. And hoped. And found that the thought of it being otherwise frightened her to the bone.

Like far too many times, she felt as if Varimathras saw exactly what she was thinking, and she wanted to wrap herself in shadow, to escape the inscrutable fel gleam of his unblinking eyes.

“Perhaps. I hope that My Queen is correct in that, for I would not relish letting our fates hang by the thin thread of one fickle human’s affection for the same living dead who devastated her home and murdered her Master.”



***



Jaina had not wanted to stay away from Sylvanas at a hard time and least of all now, but when she noticed how Anya led them to stand at Areiel’s side she agreed completely with the decision.

Didn’t a ranger captain have anyone to stay by her side at a time like this? That was heartbreaking.

The pyres of Anthis Sunbow and the other fallen rangers were crackling and the smell was from them was right now nauseating. It was probably not respectful to think that way but Jaina couldn’t help it. Not when she knew what it was.

Human Forsaken soldiers had made an agreement of sorts to be burned and buried in the field where they fell, at least if they were victorious, as in other cases they could probably not count on having any burial service at all. Lordaeron, all of it, was theirs by right and they would walk wherever they pleased in it, fight the Scourge wherever they pleased for it, and be buried anywhere in their own lands. The battlefields belonged to their fallen who had won them.

The dark rangers were not at home in Lordaeron. Not in that way. And they claimed no fields, and held no ground in the same manner as the regular forces. They patrolled endlessly back and forth, raiding and scouting and harassing their foe. They brought their – mercifully few – dead back with them to mask their numbers and what they were, and because they would rarely be given time to conduct a proper burial in the field. Instead they interred the ashes of their fallen outside the capital city in a secluded copse of trees. If new trees would ever grow there, they would be the only tombstones worthy of an elven ranger.

Jaina despised funerals. She did not know how to act and could not think of what to say that would make anything easier for anybody. But just to watch in silence as the flames consumed the wood and cloaked bodies – the armour and bows were kept but the rangers shrouded their fallen in their cloaks – was stifling.

Something tugged at her sleeve. Anya was silently beckoning her to come closer to Areiel. Anya walked noiselessly as usual and Jaina just about tip-toed the few small steps to match her silence as far as possible.

”You don’t like being here, do you Jaina?” Areiel asked lowly without turning her head.

Jaina wanted to hide her face and disappear through the ground, however unbecoming that kind of metaphor was at a time like this. Was she being that obvious? So that it showed? How…how utterly mean of her in that case. But Areiel made no such allusion.

”Neither do I.” The ranger captain sounded heavy, heavy and tired like she never was otherwise. ”Some things, most things I suppose, gets easier with practice. But not all.”

Sometimes a loved animal would put its head in your lap when it sensed your distress. Westley’s horses would brush their noses against him when he talked to them. It looked the same when Anya glided over to Areiel’s right side and held out her cloak. A silent question, or offer, to just be close to her.

Being unneeded to shield them from the cold, the rangers’ cloaks were no less important to them. Very important. And very significant.

Areiel sighed almost imperceptibly and let herself lean a little on Anya. The rest of the squadron had followed her and circled around Areiel just as silently, like when they covered Jaina against the wind.

Jaina hesitated, teetering on the edge of the tightly clustered ring. It was so touching to see, and she would very much want to comfort Areiel if she could, but she also hadn’t been with the rangers for a long time and nothing like elves who had served together for decades or centuries. This could very well be such a moment where it would be most considerate to allow the others a little bit of distance.

Or so Jaina was thinking when Kitala reached out and pulled her even closer to the rest of them. Pulled her in.

”Before you came to us, Jaina, Anthis led a scouting party on a deep foray to track down some of our missing envoys sent to the human lands. It was a highly dangerous mission and I believe she had desperately wanted to be able to bring some hope back to us. Finding that our envoys had been killed on sight got to her deeply.” Areiel spoke thoughtfully while Anya and Clea huddled close to their captain. ”Seeing you help us like you have, and Cyndia’s rescue, must have meant a lot to her after that. She was growing very fond of you, Jaina. And she admired you greatly, Anya, for how you looked out for your squadron and kept their spirits up.”

”She did?” Jaina felt so bad. Anthis and her squadron had never visited her tent and joked with her like Kalira’s and Amora’s had. But she would have let them. Invited them in, gladly, if only she had known. All night long if they wanted.

”She cared a lot more for a lot of people than she let know.” Areiel said gently. ”And she died defending her sisters and the first living human to show us kindness. She died clearing the path to Dalaran for us. That is a worthy end.”

”I got…lost in that mist. I’m…” Jaina stopped herself before saying that she was sorry. Sylvanas’ lessons about not apologising reflexively for things out of her hands had stuck. ”I’m so sorry that she is dead. That all of them are. It is so cruel. You have already died once!”

Jaina’s voice was starting to shake and she stopped herself, fearing that she had said something she shouldn’t. But to her astonishment the old ranger captain huffed out a sad laugh.

”Sometimes… Yes, I quite agree with you, Jaina. One time should be enough for anybody.” Areiel stretched out her left arm for Jaina. ”Come here. I think I need a little bit of warmth right now.”

Jaina hadn’t realised until then that she was crying. She fell into Areiel’s arms and hugged her as hard as she could.

”Most new rangers are allowed to feel invincible for longer than two mere months...” Areiel mumbled into her ear. ”You are one of us Jaina, and you lost sisters too. And you never got the chance to know them. If that is not cruel I do not know what is.”

”I would have died if it wasn’t for Irizadan.” Jaina said in a small voice and felt just as small. ”When my magic failed I just didn’t know what to do.”

How stupid that sounded when she said it. She hadn’t even thought of just trying to teleport away, or invisibility, or conjuring mists of her own or anything else practical in the surreal situation. She had acted like a panicking first year apprentice and needed to be rescued instead of rescuing. And she could not rid herself of the sickening, nagging thought that if she hadn’t, there would have been less pyres here and outside Ambermill.

”We assigned him to keep track of our junior mages. You can say that he has something of experience in keeping watch over spellcasters. And he apparently decided that you counted as part of the assignment.” Areiel said with palpable affection.

”I think I’ll have to kiss Ire some day. Even if Spite would flay me.” Kitala said.

”Spellbreaker is a bad designation.” Anya said. ”It doesn’t do him justice anymore. It should be spellkeeper.”

”Spellkeeper… I think he would like that. That is another one who cares more than he lets others see, Jaina.” Areiel sounded regretful.

Jaina hugged her harder. At least that she knew how to do.

”Areiel…I mean Captain Areiel…”

”Right now I would want to be just Areiel to anyone, I think.” Areiel whispered.

”Don’t ranger captains get to have a ranging partner? Don’t you get…lonely?”

Areiel stiffened in Jaina’s arms. She did not push her away, and she did not let Jaina attempt to pull herself away either, but she did not answer.

”We think Areiel’s ranging partner could still be alive.” Kitala finally said, very hesitantly.

”It is not…it does not change anything right now.” Areiel sighed as she relaxed a little. ”And you are right, Jaina. I am a bow widow – you know that expression, don’t you? – in every respect, even if I was the one who died. Ranger captains tend to have a partner acting as their adjutant and bodyguard, or quartermaster of the company. Since we don’t need to sleep I managed most of those duties on my own.”

”But…”

”But maybe I should not overlook the fact that it does sometimes get very lonely.”

”You had better not. Otherwise I will go straight to Anthis and tell on you.” Anya sounded both threatening and sad at the same time and Areiel actually smiled at her.

The pyres had nearly burnt down. They stood and watched in silence, and Jaina channelled a little bit of fire magic around her to warm herself and Areiel and the rest of her squadron.

”Anthis Sunbow, how dare you leave me like this?” Areiel whispered, still with one arm around Jaina and the other around Anya while Clea, Kitala and Lyana huddled around them. ”Only half your squadron is left. Tomorrow I have to speak to them and try to determine if they need to be thrown back into work or into someone’s arms. I will do my best, but I am going to wish you were still with us a great many times very soon.”

” Rest well, dear friend. And hug Floria and Blaise from me on the other side. They were so proud of you.”

The ceremony lasted for as long as it took for the pyres to burn down, pretty much. Jaina was relieved that they didn’t have to stay and watch the ashes be collected but could accompany Areiel a little longer.

”Sylvanas asked to see you after the funeral, Anya. I got the impression that she meant your whole squadron.”

”We’ll go there.”

”Will you be alright, Ranger Captain?” Jaina worried.

”Not for some time, no. But as long as there is a single dark ranger left I will be there. Alright or not alright. Don’t keep the Dark Lady waiting now.”



***



How dared he?

How, the hell, dared he?

The anger had been slowly boiling inside Sylvanas during the entire ceremony. More and more, as such things tended to do after a tense situation in which you had to make an effort to maintain your composure and only afterwards could allow yourself to actually feel what you were feeling.

It was not the criticism in itself. Sylvanas wanted to believe herself better than to take offense from that and while she may be quite partial she still remained convinced of her ability to stay above that. She could objectively agree that Varimathras raised valid points. She could see the logic in his reasoning, based on what he knew and what he counted on. She could applaud the boldness required from anyone to raise those concerns. Her chancellor was a valuable critical voice that any leader or ruler needed to listen to in order to stay sharp.

Her chancellor was also a piece of fel-stinking filth!

The concerns about Proudmoore being compromised and her motives unclarified was one thing. The woman was a foreign head of state for Belore’s sake! What Sylvanas could not condone was the ever-present jibes and remarks and reminders about her mage’s humanity. She found herself seething with growing, fuming anger the more she thought about it.

Perhaps it was how it mirrored the treatment she and all other Forsaken had received. Perhaps it stirred the overwhelming feelings of the crushing injustice of their fate. Perhaps it simply felt like such a disrespectful…insult against someone Sylvanas had come to care a great deal about?

She had kept to herself during the funeral, torn between the lingering and rising outrage and the grief for her fallen rangers. It was better that way. Sylvanas did not fully trust herself to be able to act with the dignity that her rangers deserved.

It was hard not to think of this as another failure. It was another hard-won victory. Another dwindling of the Forsaken ranks. Another culling of trusted friends and loyal comrades in the great dark that was their current existence.

She was infinitely relieved to see Anya offering her comfort to Areiel when Sylvanas herself could provide none at this moment. How paltry.

She was back in her rooms now, with facts and implications and probabilities and worries in a tangle inside her mind.

Sylvanas did not trust Varimathras in the sense that she felt confident about his motives. It was unfortunate that the fact did not necessarily invalidate all he said. Sylvanas would still have preferred a critical voice like Areiel or Kalira raising the concerns.

Facts and probabilities? More like facts and implications!

So be it. Sylvanas would go over the damned facts then. She would maintain her calm and her control and conduct a thorough investigation before making judgement. Or at least as thorough as she would be able to, namely questioning her ranger squadron. What they did not know about Proudmoore none other among the Forsaken could be counted on knowing either.

Only after that would she make her final decision about how to proceed with Dalaran. Acting with too little concern was foolish but abstaining from acting because of too much concern was equally foolish. The sweet spot that any commander had to look for was knowing what risks were worth taking and when to trust and when to gamble. There was no more unforgiving task in the world.



…a far more relevant question is why. How is it that the human, living mage has not yet used her very apparent portalling abilities to leave at the first available opportunity?



Proudmoore had not deserted them because she was a bloody faithful ranger mage, that was why!

Sylvanas forced herself to think through their unlikely interactions. Her mage had rarely left her sight, or side for that matter, during the first weeks when they were at sea. If she would have had some sort of contact with the Alliance it should still have been at that time before the deluge of events and Proudmoore’s convalescence after Hearthglen. The other alternative would have been after she had been freed from her cuffs and appointed ranger mage. The latter alternative was the more likely but it left Proudmoore’s behaviour up until then unexplained by the supposed foreign agent theory.

Could she have communicated with home during their journey across the sea? Not impossible, even though it seemed unlikely given how watched and exhausted she had been. But if she had managed some sort of portal spell, why had she stayed put at that time at all and not gone home?

If Sylvanas followed Varimathras’ line of thought it would have been because Proudmoore had already then decided, or had it decided for her, that she should stay to find out more and possibly undermine this new potential undead faction.

Sylvanas had left her unsupervised a handful of times when she was sure the mage was sleeping soundly from channelling the magical current throughout the day. To her knowledge they had not let Proudmoore out of their sights at any other time.

But.

Her mage had been carrying this small bag of belongings with her during the later part of the journey. Not only the night shift they had captured her in. It was such a small and paltry thing that Sylvanas had not wanted to delve deeper into, busy as she was with brooding over how to keep Proudmoore subdued once they landed and hating the idea of doing it. And instinctively not wanting to begrudge her mage of that little thing and what, rummage through the woman’s underwear and night clothes? Sylvanas had some damned decency left at least.

How though, had Proudmoore come across her small personal wardrobe? She had explained it away with some flippant remarks about conjuring, but since then she had proven to be a surprisingly inept conjurer when it came to wholesome food at least, though learning quickly. It was not Proudmoore’s strongest field at least. Maybe clothes and food were different and clean clothes were something the mage had been envisioning more than carrots.

Or, she had managed to bring them to her in a very much more simple and at the same time advanced way, by creating a portal home and grabbing what she needed. Because teleportation magics were not Jaina Proudmoore’s weak point.

Sylvanas did not want to believe it. She could by now very well imagine Proudmoore being capable of the quite astounding feat of magic, but the inclination? Her blushing, prattling, impressionable and, at least to Sylvanas’ current knowledge, almost compulsively honest mage managing the emotional strain of playing them all false?

Unless everything was false or Proudmoore was made some form of unknowing tool for someone else. Made to tell a large lie through small truths and half-truths.

That first time they had landed, when Clea had spun her around and Proudmoore had fallen down giggling from her dizziness with her rangers smiling all around her. Sylvanas had been unable to stop herself from doing the same.



”So, Lady Proudmoore, you intend to both curse my rangers and press them into your service?”

”I find myself quite outnumbered, Lady Windrunner, and forced to resort to shameful methods. Divide and conquer, as they say.”

”They do indeed, Lady Proudmoore. Shall I need to worry about how you intend to…conquer us all, perhaps?”

”You never know, maybe all that has happened is part of my master plan to do just that.”



The banter with Proudmoore had been ridiculous, amusing and an absolutely wonderful distraction from everything.

And if that exchange hid truth behind irony and joking, and Belore knew how many other similar conversations? Could it?

How many times had Sylvanas not found herself smiling at the way she could unsettle her mage and watch her shift between flushed speechlessness and adorable pretended huffing at the Dark Lady’s impropriety?

She was walking down a familiar road. She had doubted and misjudged her mage twice and loathed herself for it ever since.

Enough!

Sylvanas rose and forced every miserable speculation out of her head. She could not be trusted with these thoughts on her own. It was high time to call for her rangers.



***



Jaina fretted.

After Anya, Lyana, Clea and Kitala had been summoned to Sylvanas she had done…just that, and little else.

She missed her squadron and she missed Sylvanas and all the death and grief around her this day made Jaina prone to imagining the worst interpretation of things. She knew that she had that tendency, but stopping herself was easier said than done.

Were they talking about Anthis, was that why Sylvanas had called the other rangers in and not Jaina? Was Sylvanas thinking of breaking up the squadron, putting Anya in charge of the remnants of Anthis’ one? What would happen to Jaina and the rest in that case?

Jaina knew that she was probably being childish, and selfish, and not very productive worrying herself useless in this manner. But not having Anya in her squadron…in truth, losing a single one of her friends as a squadmate for any reason terrified her.

Maybe she was working herself up over nothing. Sylvanas was not insensitive towards her rangers, surely she wouldn’t split a squadron in two on a whim. Maybe the Dark Lady was simply describing a very important assignment she needed Anya’s squadron for.

Was that what Sylvanas was doing now, handing out instructions to the rangers? Would she call Jaina in later and give her others, as a mage rather than a dark ranger? There could be any number of things that needed doing, or preparing for. Quite possibly in preparation for the visit to Dalaran tomorrow.

If she talked to Jaina later, would they be able to go over the subject of the Forsaken prisoners?

Could Jaina fin the words needed to make Sylvanas spare them? Send them away maybe, out of sight and out of people’s minds and paint a picture of it as harsh punishment if anyone asked questions. Banishment from the Forsaken lands.

Anything would be better than Sylvanas ordering them killed.

Jaina wished Areiel hadn’t had to go somewhere else. She wished she had anyone to talk things over with right now.

The corridors leading to the Forsaken’s own dungeons – meaning the odd storerooms used as makeshift prison cells as opposed to the proper dungeons upstairs that were used as guest rooms for visiting archmages – were rather close by. Jaina remembered the layout of the not too large complex fairly well after following Sylvanas there to listen in on the testimony delivered to Areiel. A single soldier was standing guard by that entrance, a member of the dreadguards.

And there seemed to be something amiss.

There was a smaller and thinner Forsaken, just a boy in tattered ruins of clothes and with a decrepit look about him that contributed to the poor appearance. Fragments of an insistent conversation kept down reached Jaina’s ears and now she concentrated on discerning what it was about. Just then the voices rose in both strength and intensity.

“You can not go inside and that is final!”

“Please!”

Jaina got up in a blink.

“What’s going on, guardsman?” Jaina asked. She didn’t actually know if that was the term the Forsaken infantry used but it sounded more polite than simply addressing him as ‘dreadguard’.

The dreadguard eyed her suspiciously. He would be well aware of who Jaina was, like the rest of the Undercity by now, but the dark rangers did not outrank deathguards or dreadguards.

“He wants to visit the holding cells.” The dreadguard nodded to the haggard-looking Forsaken boy. “He was in there earlier but let out.”

Things fell into place at once for Jaina.

“You are the child in the group that…was detained.” Jaina spoke out loud. “What’s your name?”

“Tim.” he said hesitantly and his damaged jaw made it a bit mumbled. “I just want to see my mum and dad!”

It was being chained to the Lich King that removed your humanity, not being undead as such, Jaina had come to conclude. The scene was heart-wrenching.

“Look, kid, be thankful you’re out of there.” The dreadguard was gruff but he did not strike Jaina as malicious. The comment did not land well, though.

“Thankful?! She’s gonna kill my parents and you want me to be thankful?!”

“Hold up, here!” Jaina interrupted, suddenly cold inside. “Has the Dark Lady or anyone else forbidden visitors to the prisoners, Sir?”

“Wha…no, but this is supposed to be kept quiet. We can’t have people walking about unsupervised.” The irritation was clear in his voice but he would know as well as Jaina that denying the boy entrance would not make him more cooperative regarding the part of discretion.

“And you can obviously not escort him and keep watch here at the same time. I can assist with that.” Jaina let ice cover her hand momentarily. “Trust me, no one runs away from me unless I allow it.” While the dreadguard nodded somewhat hesitantly Jaina turned to the boy. “Keep in front of me, Tim.”



***



“…and if you take this seriously, Dark Lady, I insist that you reassign Varimathras from chancellor to archery target!” Clea hissed.

When Clea was agitated she no longer shouted or barked at people. She could not. But Belore knew if her voice hadn’t grown just a little during the latest months, and instead of an angry whisper this sounded more like an angry serpent that you would be wise to step away from.

“I do not like his notions one bit either, Clea. But this is more important than what I personally think. I need your help. I need to know if there are any objective facts that support the idea of any sort of compromising of Proudmoore.”

“She is a head of state.” Clea looked like she wanted to throw her hands into the air, almost. “So obviously she can have all sorts of weirdo ideas in her head, as those are known for.”

Sylvanas, despite the seriousness of the situation and the revolting topic, could not stop her mouth from drawing up.

“Quite right, Ranger Deathstrider. And as far as I can imagine Theramorian interests could lie both in our ruin and in an alliance with us, but has she had any contact with her people? Could she have?”

“None of us really knows what a mage like her can do or can not do…” Kitala said unsurely. “I for one wouldn’t be too sure about Jaina being unable to do anything anymore. She just needs to figure it out first. I bet she’ll turn herself into a dragon one day and melt the Frozen Throne for us.”

And barring that, one just needed to look at them now, Sylvanas conceded. Sitting in the Undercity, brought there by Jaina’s portal. The city that had been saved by Jaina’s furious magic, after which that same magic had won them half the Dalaran campaign. No, assuming that Jaina was anything but capable would be utterly wrong.

“There was one time…when I walked into her tent.” Anya started, very hesitantly. “There wasn’t any sort of spell I saw, I just got the feeling that I had disturbed something she really didn’t want me to see. I didn’t think about it afterwards because…because I had something important to show her.”

Sylvanas looked with interest at Anya, who noticed it but apparently misjudged the reason for it.

“I, uhm, had repaired her mirror with Akara’s help and I wanted to show it to her.” Anya explained very lowly.

Clea burst out smiling warmly.

“Anya, you are the kindest. Did she like it?”

“Yes.”

It was extremely out of place but Sylvanas could not help but share in her squadron’s curiosity. It was unfortunate that she had to continue with the present subject instead.

“Are there any other occasions?”

“We lost sight of her at the lake. She just disappeared.”

“At Lordamere Lake?”

“No, in Kalimdor. When we went ashore to gather food for her and Jaina swam in that lake where we had landed.”

That was right. Sylvanas hadn’t counted that time but Anya was indeed right. They had completely lost sight of her mage and Sylvanas had yelled at her rangers for it when Proudmoore reappeared. How it could have any bearing on the issue they discussed was harder to imagine, though. Proudmoore had probably looked quite nervous at the time but who wouldn’t in her situation, with a ghostly Banshee Queen glaring down at you?

“There is one other thing, Dark Lady.” Lyana had not said much yet but now she reached inside one of her many practical pockets. “When we were in the city last time, and we were playing with Loras’ children by that pond…”

“What is it with Kul Tirans and water…” Sylvanas muttered. “Apologies, Lyana, please go on.”

Lyana put a letter on the table. Or a paper with just a couple of lines written on it, strictly speaking.

“I found this on the ground beside. I think it is Jaina’s but I didn’t knowhow to bring it up and then all things happened with Ambermill and…” Lyana looked crestfallen but Sylvanas could not blame her.



”Dear Pained,

Like I have told you before, the dark rangers are incredibly useful.”



Pained. Jaina’s bodyguard and, presumably, vigilant guardian with the ungrateful mission of keeping her from starving and berating herself to an early grave.

The dark rangers are incredibly useful…

They certainly were. But was it a compliment praising her squadron or an assessment of an asset callously made use of?

Useful. Usually you would word heartfelt praise of a person slightly differently. Unless of course you were someone with the occasional bouts of quirky humour like a certain someone Sylvanas knew of.

The wording proved nothing.

The message was another matter.

“So she has sent messages before this one.” Sylvanas concluded with an audible habitual sigh as her rangers passed the paper between themselves.

“Yeah, but…” Kitala begun but apparently did not know how to finish.

“So what?” Clea challenged and all eyes turned on her. “So what if Jaina has written home a few times? Is she our prisoner or our ranger mage? She has an island to run, should we have expected her to keep them in the dark?”

“They must be worried sick.” Anya sounded sad. “And miss her.”

It confirmed the possibility of what Varimathras suggested about Jaina receiving instructions from afar but contrary to what she expected Sylvanas felt lightened. Because Clea was damned right. Jaina Proudmoore was a responsible ruler who could not be blamed for writing home and if Theramore had any collective wits about them they would love their archmage dearly like she deserved.

Opportunity did not make one a culprit.

But Theramore.

Proudmoore was self-sacrificial to a fault and ready to give up seemingly everything for those under her care. Could that trait in some twisted way would be taken advantage of to make her give up her own friendships and sense of honour and decency for the greater good of Theramore? But what would be the plot and goal in such a case, that would persuade Proudmoore to act so against her convictions?

She has so far not fought any living enemies herself, only the Scourge undead. And yes, it could have been that she tried to negotiate peace with Scarlets out of concern for the living just as much as for Cyndia and the Forsaken. It could also be that the difference was not even meaningful to someone like her mage. She despised unnecessary bloodshed and that would by no means be incompatible with a growing fondness for Forsaken undead.



I would not relish letting our fates hang by the thin thread of one fickle human’s affection for the same living dead who devastated her home and murdered her Master.



It was more than affection, it was Proudmoore's sense of duty and decency and loyalty too but Varimathras' point still stood. It was a gamble to approach Dalaran, with or without her mage's company. It was a gamble to approach any foreign faction with her mage beside her.

It would always be a gamble.

So how lucky did the Banshee Queen feel?

Sylvanas had after all seen comparably little of her mage acting reasonably freely, except while they had been fighting the Scourge. The time when she was imprisoned was inaccurate material to judge her character by even if Sylvanas could not really point out a clear difference. Her mage was more serious after being made a ranger, obviously, but for all her early awkwardness she had not exactly been subdued by being kept on the Banshee's Wail or in her dungeon. Proudmoore seemed to like to put up that kind of act at times, but her eyes shone and sparkled so oddly when she did that when Sylvanas was near, that she couldn't believe it was genuine.

People's behaviour could change notably even if their ultimate goals did not, to mentally deal with an extreme situation. Such as finding oneself under the control and in the constant company of a score of charismatic and compelling undead elves, possibly. But in another environment, another context, another company, what then?

Sylvanas would never know. She would ever be sure.

"My rangers. Do each of you trust Jaina Proudmoore?"

"With all we have."

"Yes!"

"Always."

"To our deaths, and beyond it. She is our sister."

So again, how lucky did the Banshee Queen feel?

Too lucky. Because Jaina Proudmoore was too good to be true. But Sylvanas would trust her anyway.

She would. She would throw herself head over heels along this path of catastrophe and disappointment, for such results beckoned along every path and if that would be her fate she would sooner meet it without having misjudged her mage unjustly a third time. For if she could not trust the judgement of her own ranger squadron, what could she trust at all?

"Good. Then I will...talk to her about these letters and let her explain. And tomorrow we will enter Dalaran together."



***



It was a dismal place.

Not that Jaina should have expected anything else. Her own dungeon was a very rare exception to the dreary norm that were dungeons worldwide. Flickering torchlight illuminated criss-crossing bars fencing off a part of a long and narrow room behind which eleven shadowy, ghoulish forms languished in cramped spaces.

They did not need to eat. They did not need to breathe fresh air. They did not need to sleep.

Jaina pitied them right now regardless.

She could see the improvised manner of the whole area. The bars and barred and locked door looked strong enough but there was a hasty, uneven and rough impression of it al, like it had been bolted together with haste. She wanted to believe that Sylvanas and whoever built this cell for her did not intend to stuff it full of so many people at once, or at all.

"Mum!"

"Timmy?"

"Timmy!" A second voice sounded from the deeper shadows. Tim's father, it had to be. "Are you hurt?"

"No. She let me come in."

Jaina didn't quite know how to act but nodded quickly in confirmation at least. She felt her heart pounding, knowing that she shouldn't be here but unwilling to leave all the same. She wanted to know each and every thing about why Tim's fears for his parents' lives echoed her own.

"My boy, you shouldn't be here... She will be angry with you."

Jaina coughed.

"Your son has been allowed to enter. He is not breaking any rule visiting here."

Tim's mother looked up and seemed to study her.

"What will happen to him? After..." Her voice died down.

"After what?" Jaina inquired, tense as a bowstring.

"Don' toy with us." Tim's father shook his head. "She won't forgive what we've done... She doesn't forgive. Timmy, Timmy if she brings us out to do it you mustn't watch, you hear me? You mustn't."

Jaina grew ever colder. Both of hearing him speak that way of Sylvanas with lingering dread like she was the Lich King himself or close enough, and his conviction that she would have nothing but their deaths in store for them.

"I was under the impression that no sentence had been pronounced yet." Jaina said carefully.

The Forsaken man just huffed with disbelief mixed with despair. Someone laughed bitterly from further inside the gloom.

"I've heard them talk about you. The living woman who wears the black cloak." Jaina heard the noise of something she reckoned was spitting. "How can ye?"

"And who might you be, Master...?" Jaina replied as calmly as she could.

"Gren. Whatever."

"I wear the dark rangers' cloak with pride because they have offered me friendship and protection, and I will fight against the Lich King by their side."

"Heh. That'd be a first."

"What do you mean by that, Master Gren?"

He came closer to the light. A skeletal-looking creature, badly withered and wearing his suffering for all the world to see.

"You've no idea, have you? She hunted us down like beasts! She and her accursed black-cloaks! Like we were vermin to her!" Jaina's initial confusion only seemed to fuel his quiet, quivering ire. "We -" Gren indicated the miserable group around him "- did not fall to the plague or the demons or anything for a year. We stayed hidden, sheltering in the darkest, wettest mountains and hills and always moving with one eye over our shoulder. Then she came, with her dark-cloaked elves and hunted us down one by one. What threat did we pose? What could we do?!"

"But...but that was before they broke free from the Lich King's control!" Jaina protested. She knew what he would be referring to. The skeletons and the burned out houses that had met her on the road from the harbour. The terrible things Sylvanas had alluded to that haunted each and every ranger night and day.

"Yeah, sure... Yesterday in the Lich King's name, today in her own, what does it matter... She hates humans, that one. She despises us. We're just her tools at best."

Tim caught Jaina's attention at that time. He was stretching his arms through the bars and holding on with all strength he had to his mother and father as if he could pull them through the narrow gaps. He had no tears but he was shaking all the same.

Jaina opened her mouth to reassure him that they were wrong, that the Dark Lady was deep down not what they imagined. That she was just.

What if she was wrong?

What if Sylvanas was preparing right now to drag them out one by one to take their heads publicly? Making the most of the vile act she would think herself forced to commit, practical as she always was?

She wouldn't. Jaina's Dark Lady, who had let her send the Scarlet prisoners away and who had held Jaina in her arms afterwards would not do such a thing.

Yet what if she did?

Jaina could not bear to think about it. That would not be her Sylvanas standing cold and cruel to watch these wretched Forsaken be beheaded before her eyes. That would be a twisted mirror image of her, the Sylvanas that the Lich King had forced her to be. That Arthas had forced her to be.

Jaina trembled. Her pulse was pounding like hammer strokes inside her and her heart was the hammer. It was as if it would strike her ribs so they broke.

She had to sit down, to take hold of something. The wall. Where was the wall? Where...?

Jaina swayed and up was down and down was up but somehow she remained on her feet while the dizziness passed over her and left her light-headed and blinking. How could she have breathed so rapidly and still be out of breath?

She cursed the presence of these Forsaken traitors, or whatever they were that she presently didn't care about. She cursed every link in the chain of events that had brought them here to drag Sylvanas down and destroy her. She cursed the Scarlets who had set it all in motion. She cursed the Scourge whose fault everything was in the end.

Her hearing returned to normal gradually as the relentless pounding quieted.

"...my boy, go, you have to go...be brave for us. You are all we have. Tim, please, go..." It physically hurt to hear the words.

"You still sure of yourself, black-cloak?" Gren mocked her but it was a hollow sort of defiance. "They ever tell you of Marshal Garithos, eh?" He spat another time. "She had him killed in cold blood, by that pet demon of hers they say, when he stopped being useful. Even after he'd lent her aid against those other demons and undead here. That's the queen's loyalty for you."

Jaina wanted to shut him out. She wanted to shut everything out, she wasn't up to this, she couldn't do this. She wanted to shut out the sight of Tim who wouldn't let go of his parents, who had not the heart to force him to despite their insistence that he must.

Those poor people who had been lured to the cellars of vile beings like Sister Grete would never come back. Taking Tim's parents from him would never bring anyone back.

Would Sylvanas do it?

Was Jaina prepared to find out? To give her trust?

What if she was wrong?

Then it would be to late.

When Jaina raised her hand it felt like some else's. Was it her hand she was watching? Had she become a spectre herself now, a banshee hovering above her own body and sensing what it did from a distance?

The whole...everything...felt surreal. Like a dream. A dream where she spoke some kind of words she did not remember to Tim. A dream where she drank from her sweet and storming mana, unsteady and flickering in her grasp as she wove the intricate pattern of an arcane portal and stretched across Azeroth's mesmerising webs of magical energies. West. West where they had intended for Westley to be safe. Further west. Far from the Undercity, far from Sylvanas so they could not cause her to do harm to herself. Far from the screaming mobs crying out for ever more death despite it being everywhere around them. Far, far, until she reached the sea.

When the shining portal snapped into place eleven hoarse throats gasped. Light from it illuminated them, shining on ghoulish features and haggard forms all over them.

"Go." Jaina whispered.

The hesitation was palpable, but even it did not last forever. The first step through the light was followed by another and then the first one disappeared. Then the next. And the next. And next.

Until only Tim's mother and father were left.

"Tim. You must let go. You will be safe here. And we...we will be safe there. Wherever this will lead us."

"Take me with you!" Tim screamed. "I want to go with you!"

"You could never return." Jaina heard herself speaking, but her voice was so calm. How could it be? "You could not go back to the Undercity, not to any place ruled by the Dark Lady. Do you understand that?"

"I don't care!"

"Then you must do as your father says and I will let you go with them."

Jaina took two steps forward, took him by the arm and pried it from his father's. On the other side Tim's mother did the same and with a flash of white Jaina had brought them both inside the bars.

"Never lend aid to the Lich King or the enemies of the Forsaken. Go."

Together, in a huddling mass of bony limbs, the last three Forsaken walked through.

Jaina collapsed against the wall and let the portal fade away. All was quiet. So quiet.

She breathed small, quiet breaths, like she would break apart if she tried anything more. The enormity of what she had just done loomed just over the horizon of Jaina’s mind. She could hardly believe it herself. Had she saved them all from themselves, or had she thrown everything away now?

Maybe she should stay here, inside the bars, as a trade for those she had let out? Jaina felt like laughing hysterically at the entire situation.

No. What would Anya think if she wasn’t there? And Sylvanas. Jaina would have a lot to explain to her. Not only for her own sake but in order to give Sylvanas the opportunity to slavage what she could and turn this into something she could make use of to satisfy her discontent subjects.

Jaina rose on slightly wobbly legs and teleported back out in the corridor again.

People just shouldn’t put up unwarded dungeons like this if they didn’t want other people to come and go at their convenience, should they? Then she imagined what Sylvanas would look like if she heard her say that and hurried her steps back out.

Yes, she would have a lot to explain to her Dark Lady…

“Hey, where did that kid go?”

In her unhinged state she had forgotten the dreadguard on post.

“I-I saw him out of there. He was much calmer after I brought him to his parents.” Jaina lied truthfully.

The dreadguard nodded curtly and Jaina though she detected approval. She felt doubly bad for deceiving him. She would tell Sylvanas at the first opportunity and underline that she was solely responsible.

Yes. She would tell the Dark Lady that and explain her reasons and beg for her understanding.

The Dark Lady, who was in fact striding purposefully towards her right there.

Sylvanas did not look disapproving but she looked very determined, like she had something she was about to do or there was something important she had decided.

“Ranger Proudmoore. We will return to the encampment shortly. I want to speak with you in private as soon as we get back. Wait for me in your tent after you have portalled us there.”

“Y-Y-Yes, Dark Lady”



***



Sylvanas stepped onto the hard ground in the middle of the Forsaken field camp filled with purpose. She would just alert Kalira of her return and inform her that she did not want to be disturbed for the next couple of hours. And afterwards she would ask Areiel about the state of Anthis’ rangers and of Areiel herself. Then she could hopefully share the good news that she and Proudmoore had cleared the air about these letters and explain her own distancing during the funerary service. Sylvanas was well aware of the fact that her old mentor enjoyed the company of others during hard times but was not as good at asking for it.

Like tutor like pupil, Anya would say.

Apart from most of the dark rangers there had been a handful of other people joining them on this trip and they now passed in single file through the portal held open by Proudmoore who crossed last and let it close and fade behind her.

The rangers were splitting apart and Sylvanas noted that someone seemed to be talking to Areiel and that the ranger captain stiffened visibly. Was it something she needed to look into? Yes, Sylvanas knew her captain well enough to see when something was out of place and when Areiel caught her eye and nodded her over it was just confirmation.

Areiel cast a quick glance around them when Sylvanas neared her.

“Dark Lady, there has been a…development regarding the prisoners.”

[Alwyn]

Good update! I'll be interested to see what effect Jaina's decision about the prisoner will have on Sylvanas, especially after Sylvanas has been wondering about whether Jaina is as trustworthy as she seems.

[Dismounted Feudal Knight]

Oh that's not going to blow over at all...

Excellent stuff as usual, Maltacus ^^

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXV: Poison and Perfidy

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Anya hurried towards their tent. Sylvanas had a head start already when she had convinced herself that something was not right and that despite what she had said about wanting to speak alone with Jaina it merited a second look.

Sylvanas wasn’t the same as she had been half an hour ago.

That was it, Anya realised. Something was off with Sylvanas. She had been determined to clear things up with Jaina when they left her rooms to return to the field. Determined and almost…content.

The Sylvanas she had seen storming off was anything but that. That was what was out of place.

The other rangers followed her without question but Anya knew they would be wondering what was the matter. She wondered the same until she heard a sharp cry, a frightened one, and recognized Jaina’s voice.

That settled it.

The sight that met Anya was heart-breaking. Sylvanas was standing almost over Jaina, towering over her as it were, while their mage sat on the floor and nearly recoiled from her with a frightened look on her face. At first Anya almost wondered if Sylvanas had struck her but more likely Jaina had never gotten the chance to stand up before Sylvanas had barged inside and overwhelmed her with her presence and…anger.

Sylvanas was angry. Dark tendrils of smoke writhed about her and all of her was taut like a drawn bow. What had happened?

Sylvanas cast a quick look at Anya and the rest of the squadron entering. She looked furious when she did it but Anya understood that she already was. With Jaina.

With an expression of disgust, Sylvanas threw down a heap of something on the floor in front of Jaina. Something silvery and metallic and clattering that Anya had grown to loathe.

Jaina yelped and cast a quick look down to see what it was. Then all of her slumped and sank into itself somehow, like all strength had left her, and she bowed her head and stiffly begun to put on her magically warded bracelets once more.

“Lock them.” Sylvanas snarled at Anya.

This was a nightmare come true. Anya dared not disobey no matter how wrong it all felt and how it repelled her. Whatever was going on it was something terrible.

Jaina did not resist when Anya put the blue gemstone on her necklace against its twins on the bracelets and secured them around Jaina’s forearms. She seemed overcome by something too great and distressing to have much awareness left for her immediate surroundings.

Anya spared a quick look around. Clea, Kitala and Lyana loked back at her and their expressions of distress, worry and confusion mirrored her own.

“How could you?!”

Sylvanas’ own voice was almost drowned in her banshee echo, crackling with rage and power so that Anya truly feared for Jaina’s sake. If Sylvanas Wailed now, what would she do? Should she attempt to drag Sylvanas out, or Jaina?

“Dark Lady, what has happe –“

Sylvanas held up a hand and Anya quieted immediately.

“Tell them.” she just about snarled at Jaina.

“I let them out.” Jaina croaked, hoarse and dry. She coughed. “I let them all out, all twelve of them.” Something begun to fall into place for Anya. “The Forsaken traitors. That helped the Scarlets.”

“Who are now gone without a trace.”

“I teleported them away. I-It was the only way to save you from having to execute them! You said...you said your people wouldn’t put up with anything else! They were all convinced you would spare none of them.”

Oh, no, this couldn’t be happening…

“That was not your decision to make!”

“I would not let you make it either! I won’t let you go down that path! I won’t let you become another –“ Jaina stopped herself with a terrified look on her face.

“Another what?!”

“Another Lich King. Another Lordaeron ruler for whom lives ceases to hold value.” Jaina whispered.

Anya almost decided to pull Sylvanas out forcefully then and there.

“How dare you?!”

“That is how it starts.” Jaina quivered in her spot. “That was how it started with…with him… I will not let you become the same! I will not!”

“I have murdered hundreds already. Hundreds.”

“Not by choice. What the Lich King made you do is not your responsibility to bear. You told me the same.”

“Choice? The same CHOICE you have now removed from my very hand!”

That seemed like an argument Jaina could not refute. She stared hollowly in front of her, like she only now understood the full implication of what she had done.

“I didn’t know what else to do… I didn’t know… I didn’t…”

“Where are they?”

No, that had to be enough of teetering on the brink of her banshee form. Anya put her hand firmly on Sylvanas’ arm. She could not let this get more out of hand.

Sylvanas turned sharply to her with her teeth clenched but Anya only answered by stepping closer to her. She pulled Sylvanas’ arm closer towards herself. She would be a steadying thing in a world of swirling darkness if that was what Sylvanas needed her to be. She would be there.

Sylvanas just about tried to shrug her off but thought better of it and gave her a disintegrating look which Anya ignored. With obvious mounting frustration the Dark Lady closed her eyes briefly and her form became more steady, more solid. The banshee echo faded from her voice.

“Where. Are. They?”

“I will tell you if you promise not to pursue them. If you give your word I’ll…I’ll trust the word of the Dark Lady. Or…or should I say Lady Windrunner now?” That prospect sounded like it frightened Jaina as much as anything else.

“Where are they?!”

“Promise me.”

“Where?!” Jaina only shied away, and she looked genuinely frightened, but she wouldn’t budge. Sylvanas made a sound that sounded like a choked roar through her teeth. Then, with visible effort that looked nearly overwhelming, she forced some more control over her voice. “If they are beyond my reach I promise I will not pursue them. You know that I can not spare the resources. Or you should know that at least.”

“Tirisfal Glades. As close to the sea as I could bring them. They won’t cause you any trouble from there, Dark Lady.”

“Oh, is that so? How well you know them after minutes of conversation.”

“I don’t.” Jaina mumbled with her head down.

“No, perhaps that is not such an important detail. Because it would not stop you from dictating Forsaken policy all by yourself in any case, would it? Whenever the wise and all-knowing Lady Proudmoore concluded that we did not know better and deemed herself entitled to intervene.”

“Please. Stop.”

“What was that?”

“Please, Dark Lady. Yell at me as much as you like, I understand that you are angry with me with good reason. But please don’t be sarcastic. Then you will end up being sarcastic towards yourself and you are not to blame here. Only I am.”

Anya flinched. Jaina knew Sylvanas inside and out, that was for sure. Anya had not given her enough credit when it came to that. Sylvanas seemed to stiffen even more at Jaina’s impertinence but she at least dropped the bitingly ironic tone. Instead her anger seemed to mount but if nothing else it was a purer and more honest anger.

“I trusted you! I choose to trust you!”

“I know.”

“No, you do not! You don’t know anything at all, little mage!”

“Stop it! Stop!” Anya stepped forward and put herself between them. “How many people know about this? Can’t we…can’t we track them down and bring them back for you, Dark Lady?”

It was probably not a very bright idea and Sylvanas had also just turned the notion down moments ago, but it was all Anya could think of suggesting. She could not stand hearing Sylvanas calling Jaina ‘little mage’ as an insult. Anything but that. Anything.

“The damage is done already. We will not be able to contain it.” Sylvanas was averting her gaze, like she wanted to spare Anya from it.

“Then…then endorse it afterwards! Say they have been banished on your orders ! Or don’t even say anything about on whose orders it was and let everyone assume you sanctioned all of it! Because traitors are not welcome in the Undercity and they have been sent far away where they can’t do more harm to any Forsaken or aid our enemies.”

Anya stopped herself before it would start to sound too much like she advocated for Jaina’s solution herself.

“Yes, I will have to do that later, now that our honoured guest have done us the great service of deciding our course of action for us. And pray it is enough to mitigate the worst outbursts of unsatisfied and unbridled lust for revenge amongst our people.” Sylvanas snarled between clenched teeth, directed at Jaina.

“It will, once we bring back the good news from Dalaran!” Anya almost shrunk when Sylvanas turned to face her. “Then no one back home will have time to think very much about some prisoners let loose, when you spread the word that we have finally made contact with a living nation who doesn’t want to eradicate us for being undead…” Anya continued unsurely.

Sylvanas looked away, still fuming.

“We…we are going to Dalaran, aren’t we? You…and Jaina…?”

“That was the plan.”

“No, please, Dark Lady!” Jaina insisted. “Please let me come with you! It won’t be safe for you otherwise!”

“You will excuse me if I find your reassurances unconvincing, Lady Proudmoore.”

“Please, don’t throw away all of this because you are angry with me. You have every right to be. But please let me accompany you to Dalaran. So that…so that all the fighting and all the deaths and grief and pain to get us here can mean something. For…for Anthis –“

“Don’t you dare speak her name!”

Jaina obediently quieted. Anya could see how hurt she was by Sylvanas’ words.

There was painful silence. Every moment stretched out into infinity. Anya’s entire body, undead or not, wanted her to anywhere else and take Jaina or Sylvanas with her. Anything to get out of this stifling, choking tent that suddenly had grown too small for two despite usually accommodating more than the six of them.

“I’ll obey your every command.” Jaina begged pitifully, nearly whispering now. “Whatever it would take for you to trust me to accompany you, name it. Take my mage staff if you like. Have me wear these.” She rattled the chain between the bracelets a little. “I will go as your ranger mage and nothing else if you ask it, and defer to you in everything. Please.”

“Ranger mage.” Sylvanas echoed, and it was contempt lacing her words and it was outright vile to hear. “Rangers do not go behind each other’s backs! At least not true rangers!”

No measure of rage, none of the things Sylvanas had said so far, had broken Jaina but this did. She hiccoughed pathetically when she tried to stifle her sobs and two large tears trickled down her flushed face. Anya wanted nothing more than to kneel down and take her in her arms. She didn’t care what Jaina had done or not. She was her ranger mage. She was her Jaina.

“F-f-f-forgiv-ve me…” Jaina cried as she clumsily undid the clasp on her dark ranger cloak.

No.

No way was Anya going to watch this happen.

“Ranger Proudmoore! You will keep your cloak on until I say so!” Anya commanded. She wanted to scream, se was so frustrated with this, and deep, deep inside boiled the dark and terrible and wrong kind of scream. “I am squadron commander here! Ranger Windrunner! We need to talk outside.”

Jaina sobbed even louder from the floor and Sylvanas had turned her full attention to Anya. Those wildly burning eyes. Anya did not fear them. She looked right into them and let Sylvanas look right into her.

“Sylvanas, please.” Anya whispered.

Sylvanas held her gaze. Far from anyone would have stood to endure it and even fewer would have wanted to remain anywhere in the vicinity. But Anya was not anyone.

“Watch her. If there are still rangers here who take orders from me.” Sylvanas added with acidic sarcasm.



***



It was a grand-looking morning with sunlight breaking through the blanket of late autumnal clouds. Ranger Captain Areiel nodded to Westley as he pocketed the Forsaken’s letter of introduction, informing the Kirin Tor of the impeding visit of the Queen of Lordaeron.

“You have our most sincere gratitude for bringing this along with you, Master Westley. We are not overly blessed with couriers that could approach Dalaran without risking a fireball to the head before they had a chance to speak.”

“It is the least I could do in return, Ranger Captain Areiel.”

Areiel shrugged.

“It’s been…no trouble to speak of. About that letter, it’s just tied together with string but I assure you it contains nothing more interesting that long and overly courteous greetings. I’m just mentioning that, wise from some centuries watching over this curious lot.” She nodded towards Cyndia and her squadron next to her. Cyndia noted that Velonara looked suspiciously innocent at the moment.

“I, uh, I don’t know how to read. I just know some words from memory. So I couldn’t spy the information within even if I wanted to.” Westley said, and had turned to Cyndia for some reason.

“Jaina should teach you some time. I mean, since everybody says she is so into books and all.” Cyndia tried to manage a flippant grin but it just wouldn’t form. Her facial muscles didn’t obey the order to align themselves in that manner right now.

“Some other time.” Westley shrugged, almost apologetically.

“Fear not, for I will read out loud.” Areiel interrupted them both and made a great show of producing a list and clearing her throat overly loudly. “Because before we part ways there was this matter of expenses to be settled…” She wrinkled her brow in a very troubled manner but Cyndia saw through it. She wondered it Westley did, though.

Cyndia’s squadron had gathered around with expectant expressions, even Kalira had a wry look of amusement on her face. Around them were some rangers from other squadrons and curious Forsaken guards.

“First… Provisions for approximately one month and one week for one human man. Fodder for approximately one month for two horses – painstakingly cared for too, so no small eaters any of them.” Westley mumbled something. He appeared to be getting rather red. Humans were so funny when they did that.

“Usage of one ranger mage’s mana during the aforementioned time which detracted from defensive capabilities…” Areiel continued. “…and lodgings of various kind and state.” She made a deliberate pause to let the gravity of the tally sink in.

Westley was clearly not yet sure if he was supposed to take this seriously. He was looking questioningly at Areiel and all the other rangers as if searching for confirmation but of course none would oblige him. Any tiny bits of fun that could brighten their ranger captain’s day were right now worth their weight in gold for every dark ranger.

“Oh! And then there were one or two rewards to note down too if I remember correctly…let me see…” The ranger captain looked up and down her paper as if it contained a word puzzle and riddle instead of a list while Velonara snorted while trying to hold herself serious.

Areiel cleared her throat needlessly once again to stifle the stifled giggles.

“First, one finders fee for rescued dark rangers...” Areiel pretended to check off an item on her paper. “One posthumously instated bounty on Scarlet torturers. Prize money for rendering, hehe, out of order…” Kalira rubbed her forehead and the gathered audience let out a variety of groans and deep sighs. “…one monastery of the Scarlet order, split in half with Ranger Hawkspear.”

Westley’s face fell. He looked between Areiel and Cyndia with his mouth gaping. Cyndia grinned mischievously and winked at him while Areiel continued.

“Encouragement of ranger mage’s conjuring of nutritious food which improved defensive capabilities - vastly, most probably.” It was such a shame that Anya’s squadron were not there. Cyndia would really have liked to see Jaina’s face. She was such fun to watch at times. “Advance payment for delivery of insanely important letter to Krin Tor Council.”

Areiel’s voice shifted as she came to the last lines, in fact it sounded close to breaking when she read on.

“Collected monthly pay of Kalira’s squadron as bonus for bringing back their Cyndia.”

“Collected monthly pay of Anya’s squadron as bonus for the same.”

“Collected monthly pay of Ranger Captain Areiel as bonus for the same.”

Damn it, had they needed to make such a big affair of it? Cyndia muttered inwardly while the rangers applauded and the guards slammed their fists against their chest plates in salute and approval.

“Amounting to, in total, four purses of gold and silvers and a few coppers for convenience, so that they can be hung on both sides of two saddles for balance.”

Areiel put her list away and walked over in two large strides and embraced Westley before his ribs had time to know what hit them. Cyndia prayed some would make it out in one piece. Next she had to blink twice though, when Velonara followed their captain’s example only a little awkwardly.

“I have my big sister back. There was nothing I wished for more when she was gone.” Velonara said so low that only Cyndia and Westley could hear it. “Thank you.”

Which just left Cyndia.

Damn it, what did you say at a time like this?

“Looks like I won’t be eating you after all.” She tried to smile but just felt awkward, probably even more than Vel’ had. This was really goodbye. She allowed herself to take one last good look at Westley. His eyes…they weren’t haunted any more. At least not like earlier. His eyes…

“Pity the poor fool to come between you and Nick and Vicky.” she blurted out. “I…I hope you will find a rider for Vicky some day. And that the girl realises how fortunate she is.” Cyndia nearly whispered and hugged him hard and turned away before her stableboy had the chance to say anything.

“Rangers!” Kalira commanded and Cyndia jumped back into her place in the ranks. “Present arms!”

Westley hung the purses over the saddles and patted Nick and Vicky on the nose. He turned to wave, and looked sad as he did it, before taking the reins of his horses in either hand.

Nick and Vicky wouldn’t budge. They looked between Westley and the dark rangers and around and neighed and snorted in protest. Westley pulled them closer to himself, ever slow and careful, until he could whisper into their ears, whatever it could be he said to them. Finally they calmed and Westley sat up on Nick and slowly begun the last leg of his strange long journey that had turned out to lead the three to Dalaran.

He was so gentle. So brave for them.

Cyndia wished they would be safe now.

No Wroth to hurt them.

No Scourge to come for them in the dark of the night.

She wanted to watch over these lands and that strange city ahead that gave rise to strange people like Jaina. If the rest of the city was anything like her it would be the right place.

It would keep Westley safe.

For that, Cyndia would keep Dalaran safe.



***



Jaina spent a sleepless night, or almost sleepless for she wasn’t sure she counted the uneasy drifting off, and waking to a reality she would rather wish was just another dream and everything could be good again. It was the worst night ever since she had met the Forsaken, even worse than when she had been sick right after being rescued from Hearthglen for at least Sylvanas had been there to hold her and watch over her. Right now Jaina would gladly suffer any fever in the world if she would do that again.

The morning offered little else, except that her squadron came with breakfast for her. Jaina barely dared to glance at them. What would they be thinking of her now? It was best to not try to find out lest she would get them in trouble with Sylvanas. If Jaina still knew anything for sure about them she thought they appeared unsure. Shocked and unsure, like they still knew not what to believe or how to act.

That made two of them. Or four, more like. Anya was nowhere to be seen.

When the morning was turning to noon Jaina was only more tired and her mind was in an uproar from turning all the events over and over inside her. Had she ruined it all? With one moment of horribly foolish and rash actions, had Jaina kicked out the legs beneath the entire Dalaran campaign and turned the sacrifices of every fallen Forsaken to nothing? She couldn’t believe it could be that way. The had to be something that could somehow be done. There had to.

What was Sylvanas doing? What was she thinking about? Her words still echoed in Jaina’s ears and tears nearly welled up at the mere thought of it. Sure, Sylvanas had been angry with her at times before but never like this. Never even close.

Sylvanas had been hurt. Jaina had hurt her.

If only yesterday could have never happened. If only she could…could…

Could have trusted Sylvanas to do the right thing? Did not the Dark Lady deserve that? Of course she did, that and more. Jaina admired her to no end. But it wasn’t the same. Not quite. She would not want Sylvanas to have to sneak through a fortress filled with liches and have to trust her to choose the right door. Not if Jaina could do it for her. No matter how much she trusted in Sylvanas’ skills in stealth.

Was she wrong to do that? Was she a good – or well-meaning at least – friend or just a bumbling idiot who had made everything ten times worse?

It was impossible to think clearly.

Jaina could see the sun starting to sink down again through the gap in the tent canvas. She was cold from sitting too still too long and with too few logs on the fire and too few blankets wrapped around her. It would be well after noon when Lyana finally held the canvas open.

“Sylvanas calls for you.”

Jaina hurriedly rose, stiff and tired but eager to do anything else than just sit any longer in her lonely and empty tent.

Clea and Kitala were there too and fell in with Lyana around Jaina. It should have been comforting, and nothing in their demeanour suggested they seriously considered Jaina as someone who needed to be guarded, but there was a distance between them now. A caution and a lack of assurance that had not been there before. And it was Jaina’s fault.

They walked a short distance towards the gates of the encampment where – what a relief it was – Sylvanas and Anya waited outside another group of tents where they stored equipment and the kind of supplies the Forsaken had need of. A table had been set up outside, for repairing or handing in or out broken or mended items.

Sylvanas was looking her over. Jaina reckoned she must on second thought look rather terrible.

"Leave us." Sylvanas told Jaina's escort. "Inform Kalira that we will set out within minutes and then report to Anya."

Jaina felt lonelier with half her squadron gone. But maybe it was a good sign. Maybe Sylvanas would want to talk more freely with her with just Anya present.

"Dalaran awaits." Sylvanas said curtly. "And as you stated yesterday all of this is of far greater importance to be allowed to be jeopardized by any personal feelings. Yet the fact remains that you and I have a serious crisis of faith and I am unconvinced whether I can rely on you."

Unconvinced. Jaina's desperate mind clung to that way of putting it. Someone that was currently unconvinced could still yet be convinced.

"What can I do?" The question came out hoarse from the lack of speaking during the day and the dryness of her mouth.

“You claimed that you would obey my every command. Asked me to name whatever would take for me to trust you to accompany me.”

Jaina nodded.

“Then this is my price.” Sylvanas held out a cup. It looked like it was water inside it. “Drink it or remain in camp.”

Jaina’s mind screamed to her that this was wrong. This was so very, very wrong, but what choice did she have if she wanted anything good to come out of this day? If she would ever be able to mend things with Sylvanas, or even be allowed to cast freely again?

Jaina was not convinced that Sylvanas would keep her shackled like this indefinitely. What would she do, with her realm that depended on portals for their rapid communication and her forces stretched so thin? Maybe in time Jaina would be on speaking terms with the Dark Lady and allowed to be her mage again.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

But this was not about Jaina. The Forsaken needed allies and they all needed to stand united against the tyranny of the Scourge and the savagery of people like the Scarlet Crusade. And Jaina had blown their chances to pieces with her untimely meddling and this was her mess to fix, lest she would be the one to dishonour Anthis and all other rangers and deathguards who had given their lives to bring this day closer.

How many Forsaken lives would it cost if Jaina did not live up to her promise to obey her Dark Lady?

How many lives were her bad feeling worth?

“Drink.”

“What is it?”

“It is what I demand of you in exchange for trusting you to accompany me into Dalaran.”

Jaina’s hand trembled when she took the cup and put it to her lips. If Sylvanas intended to harm her she would already have done so, wouldn’t she?

Wouldn’t she?

It tasted like…water. Jaina frowned. There was nothing particularly strange with this cup of water. There was…

Jaina screamed.

Her very blood seemed to be on fire, every muscle screamed in agony as if she had woken with a cramp during a too cold night. She stumbled, it hurt so much! It burned and froze her at the same time and it was only after blinking several times that she noticed that Anya was supporting her and had prevented her from falling to the ground.

Gradually, unbearably slowly, the pain dulled and faded and Jaina could stand upright on her own accord, coughing and gasping for breath.

“What you just drank is the same poison that I last used against Arthas Menethil. It has no name in Common and the most verbatim translation from the tongue of the Amani is ‘Bloodfire’ which as you must have felt is accurate enough. The Kirin Tor will not even know the herbs involved in its making and would not be able to produce an antidote if they had a week in which to work. As I am sure you realise, the poison works far faster than that.”

The world spun around Jaina as the full weight of what Sylvanas said impacted and struck her numb. She had really done it. She had really, truly, poisoned Jaina!

“I have the antidote for this poison. It will remain in my camp and be yours once both of us return. Deviating from my commands would be…inadvisable.” Sylvanas said coldly.

“Just keep calm. It will work out alright.” Anya whispered, and probably gently, but Jaina wanted to laugh out hysterically. ‘Keep calm’?

Anya was not out of her mind. Jaina was far from a herbalist but she knew that moving around and exerting yourself was not a good thing to do when it came to any kind of poison or infection. So keeping as calm as possible would be a good thing. But who in all of Azeroth managed doing it?

“We will walk into Dalaran. We will present the situation before the Kirin Tor Council as previously discussed. We will leave as soon as we are done. Is that understood, Lady Proudmoore?”

Sylvanas’ orders were spoken as evenly as they were stern and Jaina only nodded. She hadn’t any thoughts of running away anywhere. What good would it do?

“Good.” Sylvanas held out her hand. “Your arm, if you please?”

Jaina raised hers and to her surprise Sylvanas unlocked the bracelet on it and then the opposite one. She gave the clattering metal to Anya.

Oh. Of course. It would hardly be proper for Jaina to arrive fettered to magically warded cuffs.

“The antidote will be in your hands the moment you don these again. You have my word on that.”

“If I do as you say, will I still be your ranger mage?”

Jaina didn’t know why she asked that. It wasn’t exactly the most acute issue right now, one could argue, and it came out more meekly than she would have wished. The question seemed to take Sylvanas with surprise too, despite her indifferent demeanour.

“I never discharged you.” The Dark Lady finally said.

“Oh.”

It was a technicality, maybe. Sylvanas had shouted at her and berated her in terms that left no room for interpretation. But maybe there was still a glimmer of hope that Jaina could set things right.

“Westley rode towards the city a couple of hours before noon. He was bringing with him the letter informing the Kirin Tor Council of our arrival.”

Westley. Jaina would have so wanted to say goodbye to him and Nicky and Vicky. But with how everything had turned out it was probably just as well she hadn’t. The fewer people she dragged down with her the better it would be.

“I suggest that we use a portal to whatever location closer to the walls that you think is best.” Sylvanas continued. “It is not in our interest to waste time needlessly.”

Jaina swallowed.

No, it was not.

How would this poison work? What would she…feel?

Keep calm.

Breathe deeply.

She braced herself to focus on one meagre portal spell over a short distance in a familiar location. It snapped unsteadily into place.

Jaina was already feeling sick.

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXVI: Concessions and Confessions

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Dalaran.

After everything gambled, risked and sacrificed, they were finally here.

And Sylvanas was walking through the city gates unhindered and unmolested with her head held high as if she was, for real, an honoured visitor and not only a dread-inducing undead queen.

Proudmoore's way of waking up the sloppy city guards had been brutally effective. After gauging their questionable attentiveness upon hers and Sylvanas' arrival in a field close to the walls the mage had simply unleashed a vast explosion of frost above them, both noisy and captivating. Sylvanas had almost been about to smirk when she saw the panicked scurrying of the sentries.

Sylvanas was going as she was but she had her hood pulled down as deep as possible and her cloak wrapped tightly around herself. The ears would still be visible but an unexpected hue to the skin would at least not be as shocking to the onlooker as the entirety of her undead appearance. Jaina wore her shirt and cloak but no armour. It was probably for the best. Ranger armour would not protect against arcane attacks of the level the Kirin Tor were capable of, and she appeared decidedly more like a peaceful envoy this way which had to be a good thing.

On the far side of the long gatehouse waited a quartet of footmen, the seemingly limitless rank-and-file of human armies.

Would this be it? If Varimathras despite everything had gotten it right, would this be the opportunity where Proudmoore would spring some form of trap?

Or would have, without the threat that hung over her?

“Is it really… Lady Jaina! It is her!”

Proudmoore had pulled her hood back and there could be no mistaking her. Even in her dishevelled state, she was somehow radiant.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant.” She sounded like she smiled. “It is good to be back.”

“Ahem, Sergeant, My Lady…”

“Oh! My bad, sorry. Must be a habit I picked up lately… I must unfortunately hurry along. I am escorting a very prominent guest and we need to see the Council of Six without delay. I trust they convene in the Hall as usual?”

“Yes, My Lady. The Hall was largely destroyed during the demon invasion however but they convene in what is left of it…I’m not sure how much you have been informed…”

“That was news to me. I hope that my arrival is expected, though?”

“We were told to expect someone of great importance but…not that it would be you, Lady Jaina. It is an honour to welcome you back and, ah…your companion.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

And with that, they were inside the city.

Proudmoore’s city but more than that – Proudmoore’s home. Theramore she lived in and ruled, and most likely relished doing so, but Dalaran must be to her mage what Windrunner Spire had been to Sylvanas and her family. There was something about a place where your feet knew the shape of every stone in the floor, the quirks of every step in every stair, where you could name all the cracks in the ceiling.

There were many cracks in Dalaran’s ceilings. The fabled spires dotted the view everywhere but they were stumps more often than not, or snapped apart by the middle like broken twigs. From what Proudmoore had retold of the sparse things she had learned by letter, the wrath of Archimonde had not been enough for the ravaged city but the violent infighting amongst the remnants of the Lordaeron army, under a certain Marshal Garithos, had all but wiped away the no doubt desperate efforts of the remaining population to restore their home.

The sight…got to Proudmoore. Her mage wore her emotions like a second skin some times and now was one of those times.

“I never understood how much…” She was looking around nearly frantically while still leading them with good speed towards the Council Hall, or what Sylvanas hoped would be it, as if she wanted to lay eyes on something, anything, that was not torn and broken. It was not easy.

Her mage. Sylvanas had been thinking of her with that term. It was a habit hard to discard just like that, she supposed. Or perhaps there was some truth to it. The first time when it had stuck in her mind Sylvanas had decided that Proudmoore was hers to keep watch over, her mage and her responsibility, for good or worse.

If today was not for worse she did not know what would be. What a loathsome way to finally step into this city, as tense and ready for battle as if it was Hearthglen. What an insult to spite all their hopes that had rested on this day.

All their hopes that rested on this day. It was not over. The day had not been decided and Sylvanas and the Forsaken may still carry it and spit on the cruel fate that ever conspired against them. But why did she feel like she had already lost?

“Rhonin and some of the others wrote to me but I never…I guess he wanted to spare me the details.”

“If their northern flank is protected perhaps the wizards can devote more resources to rebuilding the city.” Sylvanas could always take the opportunity to drop a hint, unsubtle though it may be.

But Jaina did not seem to take it as a hint. More precisely she did not seem like one who had need of hints.

“They have to. Dalaran is supposed to be an academy but it will become nothing but an arsenal and a barracks for battle mages if the Kirin Tor do not accept help! Distancing ourselves from the outside world has always led to the biggest and worst of all the mistakes made by us.” Jaina said vehemently.

Us. The Kirin Tor.

Yes of course she would be thinking of herself in her archmage capacity when walking through Dalaran! Sylvanas squashed the irritating thought. It proved nothing and for that matter Proudmoore was putting her role as Theramore’s ruler aside just as well and that did not mean a thing about her feelings for her island nation.

Frankly Proudmoore had yet to give off the impression of someone out to manipulate or lure anyone anywhere. Just like she never had. But that did not exclude the possibility of her being used as a tool by someone else, wielding the mage’s sincere emotions to further another’s goal.

“If…things would progress, there are masons and craftsmen among the Forsaken who could be of more use here than in the Undercity, where the skills required are more those of the miner as you have seen. The Undercity is overcrowded in any case and perhaps some would prefer another home, provided they could trust the living inhabitants.” Sylvanas elaborated.

Why had she said that? It was way too early to make any such promises. The general idea was to let contacts between the Kirin Tor and the Forsaken develop at their own pace and only focus on the barest military cooperation against the Scourge.

“You would let them?” Proudmoore asked and sounded hopeful more than anything, however she could manage that at a time like this.

“They are my subjects, not my prisoners.” Sylvanas scoffed, but the words tasted foul on her tongue. She’d sure made a great show of that kind of sentiment lately... “They would have their work cut out for them restoring all this.” she added with a quick glance around them.

“I would want to make it better than it was. Some of the towers were very stuffy inside, and badly ventilated. Made you want to conjure a snowstorm just to have some fresh air. And there were too many of them in some parts of the city, it got cramped. I’d like it to be more light, with larger windows and balconies. More elven.”

Sylvanas honestly did not know what to say to that.

“There were too few trees too.” Proudmoore continued. “I think we should have more of them, a little forest.”

“There is one outside.” Sylvanas commented somewhat dryly.

“But there could be one inside the city walls as well. A safe one.”

Safe for whom exactly? Proudmoore’s elven rangers? Sylvanas couldn’t stop herself from thinking it.

“One for your personal rangers maybe?”

The suggestion would have been ironic if Proudmoore had known the full extent of the thoughts that had gone around and around inside Sylvanas’ mind ever since her conversation with Varimathras. But now that her mage didn’t, it only served as a reminder of how bad Proudmore’s current standing with the dark rangers was, and it clearly affected her.

“If anyone would come I would love it. I would have welcomed them here if I could. And to Theramore.” She sounded heartbroken when she said it.

There had been a time, closely before their landing in Lordaeron, when Sylvanas had had nearly the exact same thought. And had she ceased believing it? Damn it.

“Because we are useful?” It came out sarcastic, more so than she had realised it would. Bitter.

“What? I mean, of course you are, but what do you mean by that?”

Sylvanas still carried the confiscated letter, she recalled just now. She had been about to confront Proudmoore about it yesterday. Before….everything fell apart.

On a whim she took it out and handed it to the mage. Now was absolutely not the right time but she did it anyway.

Proudmoore had stopped, utterly perplexed. She opened the folded paper and eyed it. She reddened, but her blushing gave way to confusion.

“Is this what you think…” Proudmoore was shaking her head slowly, but she was visibly upset. “I was about to compliment you! Yes, I wrote home! I have been gone for months and I happen to have a city to consider! And Pained. And if you necessarily must know, I had written about how I had woken up with Anya wrapped around me the other day and never slept better. I then immediately erased it because I was ashamed of having written something like that in a letter to Pained. There you have it!”

Sylvanas recalled the night very well. Her mage who would take up necromancy for their sake and had finally fallen asleep before Anya came in to be caught when kissing her good night, and had come to spend the entire night burrowed into Proudmoore’s neck and hugging her probably too tightly from behind. In all the time since the Scourge came to Quel’thalas, that may well have been the closest Sylvanas had been to happiness.

“We…we should continue.”



***



Even in this state it was a sight.

The Kirin Tor Council Hall.

The headquarters, the innermost sanctum of the wizards. If there would ever be a place to strike at her it would likely be here. The once palatial building was more repaired than most but still an obvious shadow of what it once was.

As it came into view Sylvanas wrestled all the more with her thoughts. Would this turn out to be a grave miscalculation on her part? Why would a potential someone behind Proudmoore be callous enough to use her in such a detestable way, and at the same time not consider her expendable if the goal was to cut the head off the Forsaken now that they had played their part?

Was Proudmoore’s forced cooperation a guarantee against anything? It was not. But her magical prowess was another thing. That however depended on her mage being determined and focused, as she was when she had the other rangers around and Sylvanas commanded her. She had been unstoppable. They had been unstoppable.

Together.

Could it really, actually, have been a part of some plan as hinted by Varimathras, pitting Forsaken against the Scourge as arrow fodder for the humans?

Ironic then, as it was in practice not far from what Sylvanas would be about to propose either.

But Proudmoore had always done her best to protect them. Always. She was…she was just too good to be true, and that must mean that she was false.

Mustn’t it?

She had undermined Sylvanas. She had interfered unacceptably into the Forsaken affairs by letting those wretched prisoners run. She had spared the Dark Lady a repulsive decision and a political headache and given her two new ones in exchange.

Because she had not wanted Sylvanas to turn into another Arthas? Because she had not wanted Sylvanas to turn into another average Lordaeronian ruler either for that matter, probably. With the blinding rage and disappointment from yesterday slowly fading, could Sylvanas believe that? She had been too…too furious to truly consider her mage’s words at the time. Too insulted by the betrayal. Too humiliated. Too hurt.

And now they were here, walking side by side into Dalaran just like when they had walked into the capital of Lordaeron. When she had broken down Proudmoore. Just like she had done yesterday.

She was growing so tired of this. Could they bring forth their waiting ambushers some time, spring their arcane traps, get it ing done with already?!

Proudmoore saw her agitated state. Of course she did, there was little that escaped her mage’s notice and until yesterday it had been a long time since Sylvanas had ceased to be bothered by it.

Control. She had to maintain control or things fell apart and people got hurt. That was what she had told herself in the lonely long bouts of work after they had returned from Hearthglen. That was what queens did, after all.

“You are doing well.” Sylvanas half whispered. “Let us do what is necessary to make this day count and then take leave as soon as possible.” she assured her mage as well as she could. Proudmoore was if nothing else her ally here, forced maybe, and Sylvanas needed her clear-headed and focused enough to be useful. Oh, how sickened she was of having to step onto that trudged-down road again! Damn it all!

Just like that, Sylvanas whirled around on the spot and caught her mage’s arm.

“Proudmoore. Please tell me. Is there a plot against me?” Sylvanas asked her sincerely.

“What plot?” Proudmoore asked, incredulously. “What plot, Sylvanas?!” her mage asked again, despairing and with wild eyes. “What do you think of me? Is this what you think of me?”

Great. As if her mage was not broken enough. Now she was crushed.

Just like last time. Sylvanas so wanted to be done with this, she wished it. She wished she could just…just trust Proudmoore again.

She longed for it.

“No. I do not believe it is. I do not believe you would have any part in something like it.”

And Sylvanas found that she didn’t.

“We will talk more afterwards.” The desperate hope that simple sentence lit up in her mage’s eyes. “After you have had your potion.”

Proudmoore nodded. Sylvanas could see that she was on the verge of tears. She looked just like Anya when she did that. How it hurt to see.

“We…we should go inside then…” Her mage took a deep and unsteady breath and straightened herself.

“Please lead the way, Lady Proudmoore.”

They crossed a town square outside that was only mostly free of debris and as they were halfway across the doors of the hall opened and two familiar figures stepped outside.

That is, only one of them was familiar to Sylvanas. Rhonin Redhair was every bit the same but anyone could see how the recent years’ calamities had taken their toll on him. Gone was the peculiar carefree charm that always made Vereesa smile, that Sylvanas thought was so alike their own father but wouldn’t have dared to point out. Gone was also the curiosity and adventurous spirit that she realised with a start that her own mage mirrored, despite her insistence that she most of all would have wanted to study. Rhonin had finally had to shoulder the same sort of weight as Sylvanas when she became ranger-general and she realised that she felt sorry for him.

The other mage was an elegant human woman in her middle ages and if the way her wary expression broke into a warm smile upon seeing Proudmoore was any indication, she handled the Kirin Tor’s current predicament with either more ease or more experience than Rhonin.

“Jaina!”

Of all the things Sylvanas had expected to be greeted by, it was not a family reunion among wizards. But there was clearly no other accurate term. Proudmoore was hurrying blindly forward and ran into the older mage with such a force that she nearly toppled them both and then hugged Rhonin equally fiercely. Sylvanas was left awkwardly standing behind.

The older mage would presumably be Archmage Modera that Proudmoore had described in detail and referred to on more than one occasion. If her Master Antonidas had been her mentor when she was an apprentice, then Archmage Modera appeared to have been her tutor when she was even younger. Maybe there was some little bit of Ranger Captain Areiel over that one.

Areiel. What would she have to say if she saw her now? Sylvanas would have to leave that unpleasant thought for later.

“I’m so glad to see you again alive and well, Jaina.” Sylvanas cringed inwardly when she heard the words. “Are you going to introduce us to your mysterious companion now?”

Proudmoore disentangled herself form the arms of both other mages and turned halfway around.

“This is Archmage Modera, my teacher, and Archmage Rhonin as you know, scoundrel and wooer of elves.” Proudmoore declared proudly.

“Councillor-Scoundrel if you please, Archmage Proudmoore.” Rhonin pretended to sound pompous.

“Archmage Modera, may I present Sylvanas Windrunner, queen of Lordaeron and of the Forsaken?”

Modera took two steps forward so that she descended form the stairs and came level with Sylvanas. Her bow would have been elegant enough for the court of Silvermoon.

“Welcome to Dalaran, Your Majesty. I dare say that your impending arrival has sparked much curiosity among us.”

Sylvanas bowed her head in return.

“Archmage Modera. Lady Proudmoore has told the most interesting things about you.”

Modera turned to look at Jaina with a faintly amused expression.

“Has she now, hm? And is it going to be ‘Lady Proudmoore’ for the rest of the day?”

“I…I guess so.” Her mage sounded regretful. “I am here in official capacity too, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pleased to see both of you or – “

“It is fine, Jaina, it is fine.” Modera interrupted her. “Some variety won’t hurt amongst all the ‘Archmage’ this and that which will soon batter upon our ears. Let us go inside before we attract more curious eyes and sour our day with politics, shall we?”

There was definitely a grain or two of Areiel in Archmage Modera.

“For the sake of convenience I tend to go by ‘Lady Windrunner’ as well on official occasions.” Sylvanas said.

Official occasions such as hammock-side introductions to foreign heads of state, yes.

Sylvanas would have attributed Archmage Modera’s lack of visible reaction more to the woman’s personal discipline and sense of courtesy rather than the limited concealment of her hood. When she came face to face with Rhonin however…

“Sister-in-law…” He said it half awkwardly, half in wonder. Sylvanas could hardly blame him.

“Brother-in-law.”

They kept looking at each other, or in Rhonin’s case at what was visible of the other.

“Vereesa is alive.” Rhonin nearly whispered. “She is hale but exhausted from magic deprivation.”

Sylvanas knew about that from what Proudmoore had told her but Rhonin was of course not up to date with her conversations with her mage.

“I got your letter. Your earlier one.” Rhonin then surprised her. Sylvanas had almost – no, completely – forgotten to take that into account. Then likely everything the dwarves had written in their report to her might as well be true too. And they were somewhere out there, presumably following some plan she had no idea of to keep aiding the Forsaken? “I had lunch with your emissaries actually. Very interesting fellows.”

“What became of them?”

“Last I know was that they mounted up on a pair of gryphons on route to Khaz Modan.”

“I see.” There were more pressing subjects than describing how the last thing she had heard form then had been a shipment of scarves that moved her rangers nearly to the tears that most of them lacked.

They were about to go inside when Rhonin halted.

“Sylvanas. Are you really…”

Slowly and deliberately, Sylvanas lowered her hood.

Her brother-in-law had nearly as large eyes as her mage when he stared like this.

“If you so much as think of saying that I look well, Rhonin Redhair, you have better have a teleport spell at hand.”



***



Sylvanas had seen more welcoming furnishing of a meeting room.

She and Proudmoore had been allotted one desk and a chair each in front of a row where the Kirin Tor’s Council of Six presided like some critically examining jury. At least Rhonin had the decency to grimace self-consciously once they took their seats.

Tenn Flamecaster, Nilas Arcanister, Aran Spellweaver, Dalar Dawnweaver, Archmage Modera and Rhonin Redhair. Would they listen?

They would be used to somewhat critically evaluating the facts and proof laid before them, at least they should be if they had managed ot train Proudmoore, but they would also be used to being right and not be too much questioned.

But they should also be used to trusting Proudmoore to know what she was talking about.

Sylvanas spared a glance to her left, and found herself looking right at her mage glancing back.

“How do you feel?” Sylvanas whispered without moving her mouth. “Besides the obvious of course.”

“I feel sick.” Proudmoore whispered back. “Like I would like to throw up. And sweating.”

“You are doing good. Very good. You will be fine. We will say our piece and get you back outside as soon as we’re done.” Sylvanas tried to sound reassuring. Belore knew how it came across.

“You start.” Proudmoore hissed. She was rubbing her neck, like she had a stiffness or a headache spilling over down on her shoulders.

“Alright.”

Sylvanas rose. She wasn’t going to address any assembly seated by a desk in any case. With her mage being just that she looked a little like Sylvanas’ advisor or clerk. They should have brought some kind of papers with them to fit the picture. The wizards always seemed to enjoy written things and Sylvanas could have spared a tall pile of old Scourge reports if she had thought about it.

“Honoured councillors of the Kirin Tor, thank you for meeting with us and doing so on a short notice.” Sylvanas begun, strict and business-like. “We have many things that merit discussion but I would like to first address the core of everything.”

Sylvanas had raised her hood once more before entering but now she pulled it back and revealed every part of her visibly undead countenance.

“Let me first dispel any possible lingering doubts as to our nature. We are the Forsaken, free-willed undead who are no longer under the Lich King’s control or part of the Scourge. We are different creatures hailing from different races, peoples and nations with as many differing views of the world we no longer live in.”

One could have heard the fall of dust from the ceiling in the silence.

“I understand that you hate what we have become. I assure you that so do we.”

Sylvans let her gaze linger on each of them. They would not dare to disappoint her, not after what she had done to make this event a reality.

“The Scourge has turned us into the monstrosities we are today and forced an existence upon us that none asked for or could have possibly imagined. Until not very long ago everything we were was in the hands of the Lich King. Everything we did was at the orders of the Lich King. He has used us as his tools and through that stolen our honour, our decency and our selves from us.”

For a moment Rhonin looked like he wanted to ague but Sylvanas squashed any such ideas with a sharp look at her brother-in-law.

“We ask no understanding of you. We demand no acceptance or inclusion. The only thing that we ask of you is that we stand together against the Scourge that seeks to consume and enslave us all and cease to do the Lich King the favour of fighting amongst each other. Only that.”

Sylvanas let the weight of her speech be felt. A swallowing here, a too deep breath there, betrayed the collective discomfort of the wizards in front of her.

“When did – for how long have you been…your own?” Tenn Flamecaster asked, reaching for tangible concrete details rather than to wrestle directly with the overlaying greater matter. Sylvanas might have wanted to do the same.

“This spring. I and some of my people broke free shortly after Arthas Menethil returned from Kalimdor. Some manner of event weakened the Lich Kings control and we rose up against him and the dreadlords that would seek to take his place. He escaped me and sailed for Northrend and the seat of his master while I rallied those others I could find who had broken free.”

She could go into detail about the infighting and the fates of the dreadlords, and a certain Lordaeronian marshal, and his army at another time.

“We have since then been hounded by the Scourge and rejected by every living nation we attempted to make contact with. From the reports made by my rangers sent to investigate we have been forced to conclude that all our envoys were killed on sight.”

If she had thought the assembly uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to now.

“Oh, no…” Archmage Modera mumbled.

“It is unfortunately very likely.” Rhonin said lowly. “The city guards and mages posted have instructions to shoot at every undead, whether armed or not. Even an single individual could have carried the plague or something similarly sinister, or so we reasoned.”

“My reasoning would have been the same in your position.” Sylvanas’ voice was like steel. “And that knowledge makes our fate all the more bitter to all of us.”

Aran Spellweaver straightened in his chair and cleared his throat.

“This news is most appalling. However, in a crisis all sides of the issue must be examined with a level head. Your…ah, Lady Windrunner, given the critically dangerous circumstances and the Scourge’s ceaseless attempts to destabilize its enemies, I hope you will understand if we retain a measure of caution.”

“Do go on, Archmage Spellweaver.”

“Is there, ah, any way that we may confirm what you have just told us, Lady Windrunner?”

Sylvanas had expected something of the sort, and far, far worse. But before she could answer Proudmoore stood straight up.

“You can confirm it by counting the pyres of Scourge minions on each battlefield between here and Lordaeron! The Forsaken soldiers have waded through the Lich King’s armies to make this very day a reality!”

“That is all well and…”

“I was present personally! I have witnessed the bravery of the free undead firsthand. Lady Windrunner is the last person in the world who would do the Lich King’s bidding.”

Aran Spellweaver did not answer. His gaze lingered on Proudmoore.

“And you may cast your best dispelling on me, Archmage Spellweaver.” Proudmoore said almost dryly.

“That – that was not what I…”

“No? But we all know what you may or may not have been thinking anyway. Banshees possess people and one of them may have decided to take up residence in my head and make me trot inside Dalaran and spout fairy tales. Correct? But a sufficiently strong dispelling spell should detect the necromantic signature if nothing else, even if it may not banish the interloper. Let me just move away from potential other sources of necromantic energy.”

Proudmoore rose and walked five steps away to the left. Sylvanas was stunned. How had she missed this danger? She had even discussed the possibility of using possessed living as spies or envoys with her advisors before she left for Theramore.

To her surprise, Archmage Modera started to laugh.

“There is no arguing with you when you are set upon investigating something, is there Jai – Lady Proudmoore.” She smiled and raised her hand. “Brace yourself then, now…”

Proudmoore glimmered, briefly illuminated by something that resembled the flash of light of teleporting. She shuddered a little, like she had gotten a bucket of cold water poured over her head.

“Not a trace of interference from anyone.” Archmage Modera said blithely. “I trust this will suffice for everyone assembled?” she added much less so.

“Banshee Queens do not go around possessing people. They may be possessive enough but that is another matter…” Proudmoore coughed and Sylvanas thought that she was blushing.

“Now that this trifling detail is out of the way, perhaps we can get back on track?” Dalar Dawnweaver huffed with a withering glare at Aran Spellweaver. Sylvanas definitely thought she saw a glimpse of the academic rivalry that Proudmoore had sometimes alluded to. “Lady Windrunner, absurdities aside, you mentioned how your outreaches were rejected at every turn. Yet you obviously managed to establish contact with Archm – Lady Proudmoore? And, presumably, Theramore?”

Establish contact…also known as Wailing her half to death. But once again Proudmoore was the quicker one to answer.

“That is correct. Lady Windrunner came in person after crossing the sea with only a single ship and a bare minimum, a skeleton crew –“ Archmage Modera snorted and waved apologetically at Proudmoore to continue. Yes, she and Areiel should meet some day. “ – but unfortunately my city did little better in the field of courtesy. My city guards attempted to arrest the delegation and I only arrived in the nick of time to prevent a complete diplomatic disaster.”

Sylvanas had to summon all her focus to remain impassive. Her mage certainly had a way with words sometimes. Indeed, a complete diplomatic disaster had been prevented.

She suddenly wondered what the dwarves would say if they ever learned of how things had continued since they left the Forsaken. She would probably never know.

“I see…” Dalar Dawnweaver mused thoughtfully but Sylvanas would bet that he did not. “Well, we are all fortunate to be spared any similar such debacle today at least.”

Sylvanas could only nod, rather meekly.

“Lady Windrunner, you have presented us with information that is certainly quite astounding.” Nilas Arcanister had so far remained silent but watching with piercing blue eyes that reminded a bit of Proudmoore. Was that some mage trade secret? “At the risk of inviting some manner of cataclysmically overwhelming demand that common politeness would force us to honour, may I ask what you and the nation of the Forsaken would most wish to see as an outcome from todays meeting? What can the Kirin Tor more concretely do for you?”

“Cease fighting us.” Sylvanas answered directly and perhaps bluntly. “Or more precisely start distinguishing between Scourge and Forsaken.”

This was obvious enough but also what the entire visit was about. This was it.

“A pact of mutual non-aggression, if you like. Forsaken forces currently hold the western shores of Lordamere Lake and with it a path between the Undercity – our capital – and Dalaran. If that line of communication could be maintained and the Scourge forces to the west surrounded and destroyed it would give us both a secure flank.”

“That is a tall order.” Rhonin blurted out. “But I would like to see it made possible, no argument there.”

“There is another suggestion too that I would like to formally put forth later as member of the Kirin Tor.” Proudmoore added. “Dalaran and Lordaeron and potentially also Theramore can be linked through permanent portals or at least a portal anchor to facilitate their creation. It would open up for regular and rapid communications between us and exchange of information concerning the Scourge. Also, there are some Forsaken mages who could use a bit of instruction…”

Proudmoore cut herself off with a nervous glance at Sylvanas.

“If they would be interested and it was possible to arrange.” she nodded at her mage. “There are also artisans and craftsmen amongst my people. Undeath claimed us all indiscriminately. I would not be opposed to trade or exchange of services outside military cooperation but all such things are things for later. Our first priority right now is that we cooperate and preferably coordinate our efforts against the Lich King’s armies.”

“What of the Scarlet Crusade?” Dalar Dawnweaver suddenly asked out loud.

“The Scarlet Crusade is a conglomeration of misguided fools and fanatics who has let themselves take leave of the feeble remains of their senses. They have proven to be a danger to anyone, living or undead, that crosses their path and my recommendation would obviously be to avoid them if possible.”

“I take it that you have…encountered them?”

“We have encountered them!” Proudmoore spoke high and loud beside her with her head raised defiantly. “Lady Windrunner, if you would please hold my staff?” her mage asked with an almost icy tone and Sylvanas slowly received her mage staff. Proudmoore was actually handing it over without hesitation, the thing that was every bit as close to her as the bow to a ranger, and was she really going to…?

She was. In front of the entire council of distinguished colleagues, her mage turned around and took hold of her shirt and pulled it and the tunic beneath it up to reveal her still poignant scars underneath the ranger wrapping around her chest.

A collective gasp went over the assembly and chairs scraped when wizards rose to get a closer look. Archmage Modera cursed under her breath and Rhonin had gripped the edge of the table in front of him.

“How the hell did they –“

“With a whip.” Proudmoore cut him off as she pulled down her shirt again. “In a cellar in which I would have died had it not been for Sylvanas and her rangers and deathguards.” She straightened out her clothes as she turned around to face them all again. “This is mild compared to what they have done to the Forsaken, and still do. Mild!”

Sylvanas could see clearly that the explanation did not satisfy Rhonin but he only nodded, clearly taken by Proudmoore’s revelation and the manner of it.

“Lady Windrunner and Ranger Lieutenant Kalira rescued me personally and were both wounded doing it. Lady Windrunner and her personal ranger squadron tended to my wounds and escorted me back to the Undercity immediately after to be able to better treat me. They spared no effort nursing me back to health after my wounds had made me catch fever. No one could ask for more loyal allies.” Proudmoore declaimed solemnly in a way that allowed no refutation.

Shame gnawed and tore at Sylvanas from inside. Here her mage stood, tall and prud, and defended her and all the Forsaken against suspicion and accusation that they both knew lurked just beneath the surface. Her mage, whose eyes had turned wide with fear not an hour ago from what Sylvanas had done to her.

Her Jaina, who Sylvanas had been wrong to doubt time and time again, too cowardly to offer the trust that she deserved.

Her Jaina.

“Are we to understand that Theramore and the…the Forsaken are now allied, Jaina?” Archmage Modera asked. It was funny how Sylvanas had come to mirror her mage’s habit of thinking of Modera with her title.

“We have….discussed the matter.” Jaina said slowly. “We still have things that we need to work out between us.”

Sylvanas did not move a muscle but the too kind words made her want to hang her head in shame, no, mortification. Things to work out, that was to say the least.

“Lady Proudmoore has lent her personal aid in our war against the Scourge. She has been instrumental in saving our capital city and granted an honorary position in my dark ranger corps, wherein…wherein she has conducted herself with exceptional bravery.”

Jaina swallowed and for the briefest moment her features softened but she blinked the expression away.

“My presence has been noted by our enemy.” Her mage spoke very seriously. “The Scourge has employed a new kind of creature, a four-legged winged flying construct that is seemingly untouchable by magic and can cancel out spells. It is as you can understand extremely dangerous to face alone for one of us. Several dark rangers died defending me from five such creatures outside Ambermill.”

Rhonin cursed.

“Just after the good Marshal Garithos had managed to send our sharpshooters packing back to Ironforge… Alright, we will have to find another non-magic counter to flyers.”

“Enchanted weapons may yet work even if spells do not.” Sylvanas pointed out. “They are not invulnerable, but very tough.”

“We have emplacements for ballistae on some towers. I will have to ask if they could be put back in shape. Along with whatever else – a city wall without holes and other small things.” Rhonin ran his hand through his hair as he used to do when he had too much to think about.

His colleagues exhibited various signs of being deep in thought. A few looked through a paper or another in front, or made a note or two. But it was as if the meeting had taken on another tone. Nothing was agreed upon, or decided upon, yet the tension that had initially been there was evaporating. They may well bicker and disagree on details but on the whole, on the main question of accepting the fact that there was Scourge and there was Forsaken, Sylvanas just found it more and more unthinkable that one of the wizards would stand up raise objections.

They may just be winning this day.



***



“That was one council session I will not soon forget.” Rhonin stretched his back when he, Jaina and Sylvanas stepped outside again. Modera and the rest of the council had offered their goodbyes inside, Modera with a knowing glimpse in her eye when Rhonin insisted on accompanying their guests to the city gates to avoid any embarrassing incidents with the rest of Dalaran’s citizens. She was inconveniently observant some times.

Sylvanas and Jaina. What an odd pair of negotiators.

And Sylvanas. She was really, undoubtedly, undead. Which meant she had died. He may have expected that but expecting was not the same as being prepared for it. It was heart-breaking enough that holding a council session felt outright sacrilegious and inside he just wanted to go home and hold Vereesa instead.

Sylvanas must have had a terribly straining day as well, if there was anything that was the same inside her. Rhonin decided that he would believe that it was. Sylvanas deserved that much. She had always been fair to him, even if they had rarely had time to meet much, and even if she wasn’t the most fun at gatherings she conveyed a sincere feeling of confidence in him. She trusted that Rhonin was good for her little sister, and no matter how busy she was she would always be ready to help.

If Sylvanas was still Sylvanas inside, or as much as she could be considering the horrible things that had been done to her, she was deeply troubled by something. Which she of course had every reason to be, it was practically her current job to be deeply troubled, being both the Forsaken’s general and queen of all things!

Rhonin had so many questions. There was only one that mattered right now though, the rest could wait.

“Sylvanas…I assume you know what I am going to ask.”

Sylvanas drew up.

“Yes, Rhonin.”

“It would mean the world to her. I only persuaded her to stay at home by promising that I would bring you there. Jaina too, of course. I would grovel if I thought it would do any good but you’ve never struck me as an appreciator of sycophancy and would probably only find it whiny.”

Sylvanas clenched her jaw tight and there was something about her that spoke of inner debating of the worst kind. She looked at Jaina, looking both evaluating and very ill at ease.

“Could we? Would it be…I mean, is it…?” Jaina asked in a small voice. What was going on? Why was visiting Vereesa something that should stir such gloom? And since when did Jaina Proudmoore sound subservient to anybody?

Since she had her city occupied by her very own father and saw herself forced to side with the persecuted orcs against him, most likely. Jaina’s letters describing the events had been to the point but official. There was no mention of what that nightmare must have done to her personally. Yet it still did not add up. Jaina had spoken with such conviction and bravado to the Kirin Tor – Rhonin was kind of proud of her, I you were allowed to be proud if you were just friends with someone – and now she was deflated and unsure as if all that conviction had dried up.

“We do have time.” Sylvanas replied hesitantly, and then added to Rhonin as if she remembered that she should explain herself. “It is not safe for us to linger too long in Dalaran as of now.”

“Of course. Teleporting is currently unrestricted throughout the city, the demons wrecked every sort of ward we ever had. Walking to knock on someone’s door is still considered polite though. Yet in this special case…”

Rhonin channelled his mana and wrapped Jaina and Sylvanas inside the spell’s pattern. In the next blink they were right inside the door of his home.

“Vereesa? Are you awake, darling?” Rhonin called moderately loudly inside. There was no answer, but that did not always determine if she was awake.

“Come inside. After leaving your boots in the hall, if you please.” Rhonin had to add. Sylvanas he could understand, being Ranger-General and all, but surely Jaina had had a veneer of civilisation earlier. Dark rangers, was it? They had apparently made an impression.

Rhonin quietly walked through their apartment towards the bedroom with his guests tip-toeing behind.

“Jaina first, I think. That should be easiest.” Rhonin took a deep breath and opened the unhelpfully creaking door slightly.

Vereesa was awake and squinted in the low light when she looked up at him.

“Hey love…” she whispered.

“Jaina is here.” Rhonin waved her inside.

“Jaina?”

“Hello Vereesa.” Jaina sounded both happy and sad when she bent down over her. Vereesa feebly returned the careful hug.

“I’m not in much of a shape, am I? I’m sorry you have to see me like this, Jaina, really.”

“Don’t be like that. It has been more or less the same for all the elves in Theramore too. And it’s absolutely wonderful to see you alive.”

“Rhonin has been taking care of me. And my rangers. And this city. And most of everything else I think.”

“Rhonin has his uses sometimes.” Jaina smirked.

Well, always such a source of heart-warming recognition, your fellow mage colleagues…

“How…have you been, Jaina?”

“That is, kind of, a long story. Maybe when you are a bit more rested?” Jaina looked like she grimaced.

“I get you.”

“Vereesa, there’s someone else here to see you too.” Jaina had taken her hand very gently.

“She is here…?” Vereesa turned at once to Rhonin. Now she was fully awake, wide-eyed and desperate so it hurt to see.

While Rhonin wanted nothing more than to pick her up he instead stepped aside.

“Dear sister, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Sylvanas said.



***



Rhonin and Jaina had retreated to the kitchen. More precisely Rhonin had dragged her there to let the lunatics talk in peace.

“Lunatics?” Jaina asked, bemused.

“Vereesa is called Little Moon and Sylvanas’ nickname used to be Lady Moon. So, lunatics both of them.”

Then, finally, Jaina huffed and giggled and was at least a little bit the right and proper Jaina that she should be.

“That is…very fitting… Lunatics, the whole bunch of them!” But just as fast as it had come, her mirth faded again. She was not herself today.

“Jaina, do you need something to drink? Or eat? You don’t seem too well.”

“I don’t?” She sounded extremely concerned. “What – how does it show?”

“I…nothing serious, I just thought…” Rhonin cleared his throat. He hadn’t intended to accuse Jaina of looking tired in a prohibited way or something. Did everything have to be so blasted weird today? “You just seem worried. Not like you use to be. Which I suppose is perfectly understandable but it has me concerned. Us genius mages have to look out for each other.”

“I haven’t been much of a genius lately…”

That settled it. If Jaina was in that kind of mood something was severely out of place.

“Quit being an ogre towards yourself and tell me what you would like. I am the host here and at least half my guests need to eat and drink unless I am much mistaken.”

“Well, some water couldn’t hurt I think.” But she didn’t seem to sure about what she had just said.

Rhonin brought her a glass and filled it. He added a piece of ice for the sake of it.

“Are you ill in some way? Sylvanas said you had a fever earlier?”

“No, that was long ago, I’m…” Jaina stopped, and she coughed. If she was going to say ‘fine’ Rhonin had half decided to teleport them both to the nearest priest immediately. “I did something very bad to Sylvanas and she has…we argued. I feel sick. I just want it the day to be over with. I don’t mean seeing Vereesa or you, I just…”

There were tears welling up in her misty blue eyes. Rhonin cautiously moved closer.

“You argued?” he asked as gently as he could manage.

“It was terrible! It is terrible! Everything is – “ Jaina’s third ‘terrible’ was interrupted when Rhonin caught her in a hug.

Jaina gasped, and then dug her face deeper into his mage robes. She trembled and shook like Rhonin had never seen her do.

“Uhm, Jaina… Can I ask, what are you and Sylvanas to each other? You cooperated so well by all accounts when you held your speeches and you have evidently fought together very successfully… But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so miserable.”

Jaina slowly stilled in his arms.

“What we…are?”

“Apart from being on less than great terms with each other right now.”

“I don’t know… Sylvanas is…she is the Dark Lady. And I’m her mage. I mean, I was…I…”

Rhonin hugged her tighter. They could delve into how Jaina regarded his sister-in-law another time. Sometime when, say, that relationship was not in tatters like it seemed to be now.

“Jaina, if you’d like, if it would be easier, you know you can always stay here for a while?”

“No!” She looked, no, felt, frightened by the thought. “I’ve got to go back. To…fix things.”

“Alright. You do what you think is best.”

“Rhonin… Are they really going to go with it? I mean you. The Council.”

“With what?”

“The Forsaken. T-trusting them not to be like the Scourge. Not wanting to destroy them anymore.”

“In the eventuality that my colleagues would prove to have the wits of a fruit fly I will turn them into the sheep they are. Then their wool could contribute to the city’s supply of scarves for the winter.” Jaina’s attention seemed to peak when he mentioned scarves, for some reason. “But Jaina. Can you really imagine Modera voting on destroying the Forsaken? After they have protected you, and cared for you? And Spellweaver and Dawnweaver always vote against one another so that is one more vote and half the council already.”

“It has to work.” Jaina coughed, huddling against his chest. She half sounded like she was sobbing, half like she was going to be sick. What was going on here? “It has to be worth it.”

Before Rhonin had time to wonder more, Sylvanas appeared with Vereesa in tow, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and somehow mirroring Jaina a little bit. Sylvanas however, looked like she felt exactly like Jaina had just described, and then worse.

“We need to return.” she only said.

“Sylvanas, please.” Vereesa pleaded. “Please stay. At least…at least promise you will come back soon…”

“You may be better off alone. Safer. I am the Forsaken Queen.”

Not the Queen of the Forsaken? Did she mean something putting it that way?

“Why are you being like this?!”

“I am undead, sister. I am sure you have noticed.”

“That is not what I mean! You can still be yourself! You can still be…kind…good!”

Sylvanas looked right at Jaina and something woeful and utterly crushing was written on her features and the red in her eyes had dimmed.

“No, sister, it would seem that I no longer know how.”



***



Anya and the rest of the ranger squadron met them under the shade of the first copse of trees. Jaina had hurried along more and more with almost every step. Her pulse had risen no matter how much she tried to calm herself to keep it down, and without a tense but still beneath it all satisfying council meeting, and an awkward reunion with Rhonin and Vereesa, there was nothing left to take her mind off the frightening reality that she had been poisoned with something terrible and she needed its antidote and sooner rather than later. Sylvanas kept pace with her but if anything the Dark Lady appeared distracted and deep in her own thoughts rather than showing her usual determination and haste. Was Sylvanas not taking the danger seriously? Or was the poison one that acted more slowly than she had hinted about? But even if you survived and were healed, exposure to some vile liquids could leave you permanently harmed. Was she so angry with Jaina that she was indifferent to the effects? Were they intended, as some even crueller form of punishment?

Sylvanas acknowledged Anya with a glance and small nod ahead. The four dark rangers fell in beside the Dark Lady and they kept their pace towards a hilly part of the ground on the western side of the Lordamere Lake, where the path quickly disappeared into coniferous woods. She wanted them out of sight from the city walls, Jaina guessed. That was good. That made sense. And then, soon, Sylvanas could present her with the antidote and she could drink it and stop feeling like she had trouble breathing properly and wondering what that hideous poison was doing to her body and how long she would last before…

With something that resembled a sigh Sylvanas held up a hand to stop her squadron. She turned around and Anya approached her with her backpack, from which she removed the warded and enchanted bracelets with notable lack of enthusiasm. Sylvanas took them without comment.

Did nobody even bother caring about whether she lived or died anymore?

Jaina held out her arms without delay and Sylvanas mechanically fastened the bracelets and pulled out her necklace to touch the jewels and lock them into place. She did it with uncharacteristic slowness, like she had suddenly lost faith in her own dexterity or was afraid to touch the bare skin of Jaina’s hands.

“So. Can I please have that bloody antidote now?” Jaina asked testily.

Sylvanas waved for Lyana, who was quick to pick out and hand the Dark Lady a glass vial in a protective leather casing, sealed with a sturdy cork and what looked like wax.

“You will not need it.” was Sylvanas’ perplexing answer.

“Come again?” A myriad of unwelcome ideas of utter betrayal, attempting to murder her or raise her as undead or whatever else fluttered across Jaina’s mind but she waved them away. Now she was losing her patience.

“The poison will have long since gone out of your body. It is quick and works almost instantaneously but burns out quickly too. Its effects do not last particularly long, not with this limited dosage.” Sylvanas finally looked Jaina in the eyes. “Apart from the crippling pain it causes the poison is not very potent or effective. Other than the shock coming from being subjected to that it is very unlikely to leave a healthy person with any adverse effects. You have my word that you are not in any danger from it…Lady Proudmoore.”

“But…the sweating…I’ve had trouble breathing properly! I felt sick, nauseous almost, the whole day!”

The whole afternoon, more precisely, but it had been more than enough.

“And presumably you have been fighting off a serious headache in order to be able to function as well as you could, along with strains to your neck and something of a stomach ache as well?”

“…yes?...How…how did…” Sylvanas’ resigned calmness was unsettling.

“They are all common and well known symptoms of a great deal of poisons. And of intense anxiety.”

“There…”

“There was never any poisoning of you, not any more than what you felt briefly just after drinking it. But once you had been convinced that there were, your mind and body kept affirming that notion and you kept convincing yourself that you were growing more and more ill –”

“SMACK!”

Jaina hit her. She slapped the smooth blue-grey cheek as hard as she was able, so that Sylvanas reflexively turned her head away from the impact of Jaina’s palm. It stung awfully.

“…I suppose that makes us even…” Sylvanas only said.

“LIAR!” Jaina was so angry that she could barely form words. All of her trembled. “How the could you?!”

“Technically, nothing I said was a lie. This is the same poison that I nearly killed Arthas with, but the arrow was coated fully in it rather than a pin’s drop diluted in water, and I had added another liquid that paralyzes its victim…”

“That is not what counts!” Jaina screamed at her at her lungs’ full capacity, almost to the point where her voice would break. “Either you’re being honest or you say that something is a secret or is private and you don’t want to discuss it! How is anyone supposed to trust you when you do things like this?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say now?!”

To that, Sylvanas had no answer. It only infuriated Jaina further.

“What if you were wrong and that blight would have killed me?!”

“The antidote is real. It would have cleansed the poison from you if the symptoms had lingered.”

“Best not take any chances, then!” Jaina snapped and snatched the vial out of Sylvanas’ hand.

“No, wait…”

“What? Is this also poisoned, or some other filthy lie?”

“It isn’t, I promise…” Sylvanas begun and stopped on her own accord when coming to that word. She had no spirit left in her voice and only sounded subdued. Remorseful, Jaina would have thought on another day but right now she did not give a damn. “It’s just…”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jaina removed the cork and gulped down the entire content, grimacing. “Disgusting. True Forsaken vintage.”

“The antidote works in the same way as many of its kind, by making the body purge itself of the substance. The vial’s contents were ten times that of a necessary dose, just in case...”

Sylvanas sounded hesitant, of all things. But that had to be Jaina imagining. Just as the meaning of those words sank in Jaina felt herself heating up and sweating profusely, even more than from nervosity earlier in the day. And she was also starting to feel as if she had drunk an entire barrel of water.

“We’ll make camp here for a while, there…there is a stream a bit further up on your left side you can make use of.”

Jaina stormed away, hurt and now humiliated. She barged through the undergrowth, fuming and kicking at whatever unfortunate growing thing in her way.

The stream was in fact beautiful, she found, dug out deeply with smooth rocks next to it and high firs around it even though the autumn weather made it gloomier than it should have been. There was a place where it was reasonably deep and Jaina reckoned she could dip most of herself into the water. She swore viciously when she was caught up by the fact that for one her bracelets did now once again prevent her from undressing properly, and second that without her magic to access this would be a very unpleasant ordeal.

Still, there was no point in drawing it out. Jaina pulled off her fine boots, that had grown comfortable and shaped after her feet, her tough and durable pants that all dark rangers wore with good reason. Then her less durable socks and panties. She really could have used some arcanely hot water after sweating like she had right now. Her shirt and tunic she would have to just pull up as much as she could and hope she could still climb down without looking like a complete idiot.

It was not cold. It was icy. But Jaina almost welcomed the shock. Anything that took her mind off this, this insulting Tides-damned –

Anya was there.

She was standing quietly by the edge of the small clearing created by the bare rock and the water. Jaina vehemently wanted to think how the dark rangers would not even grant her the basic decency to bathe alone, and smother the small voice inside her that insisted that they would never think of it like that, and that Anya would only ever have wanted to keep watch over her.

Jaina wasn’t looking at her. She wouldn’t. She was bloody ing furious.

She turned her head stubbornly away, hanging over the smoothened rock and with a firm grip on a nearby root and her lower body dangling into the numbing cold. It was primitive, and irritating to be so hindered and clumsy, and on top of it when Anya could see her, and Jaina was all but getting even angrier.

“I may be a worthless ranger but I can still see you bloody standing there!” Jaina shouted at her.

Anya didn’t answer. She just approached unsurely, with her eyes lowered.

Only now did Jaina notice that the dark ranger was carrying her mage staff, much good it would do her now.

“You…you would be cold.”

Anya carefully put the staff down beside her against a low branch. She unclasped her black cloak and offered it forward for Jaina to dry herself, still looking down.

“What an impressive deduction!” Jaina sneered but even in her current state of mind she was immediately ashamed of it. She breathed out a long and ragged sigh and tiredly held out her free arm to take the cloak, still stubbornly staring in the opposite direction.

The wise and sensible thing right now would be to get out of the water. It was…definitely high time for it.

Jaina was not inclined to be wise. She was not inclined to be anything right now so long as Anya was there. Jaina may be chilled to the bone but inside she was hot with anger. Ugly, resentful anger that she was still reluctant to just let out.

Anya’s small voice broke through any barriers of resentment that Jaina’s mind could possibly put up.

“Sylvanas and I drank the same dosage of the poison the night before. To test it. Even if we may be more resilient to its effects than you are after becoming undead.”

Jaina said nothing.

“Sylvanas wanted to drink a greater dosage to counteract that but I did not allow it.”

Jaina angrily scrubbed her leg, futilely without sponge or soap or so much as a washcloth. Anything to get this stink of twisted undead…creepiness off her!

“I tried to argue against…I did argue against doing this after tasting the poison and feeling the pain it would cause you. I said we couldn’t do it!” Jaina would have betted that Anya was just about wringing her hands. “That we would drive you away from us forever…”

“Whatever could have given you that idea?” Jaina sneered, dripping with sarcasm as venomously as she had ever begged Sylvanas not to be.

“We are scared!” Anya cried. “We are scared, broken things and none more than Sylvanas! You are the best thing that happened to us! You are our warmth and our light in a world that is only cold and darkness and to go back to an existence without you is a thought we can not bear! It would be like dying all over again. Trust me on that, I am an expert.”

Jaina could not help but laugh, mirthlessly.

“Please don’t g-go.” Anya whimpered. She knelt down before Jaina who was supporting herself on the bare rock and beginning to shiver and stiffen from the cold. She should have thought twice about attempting something like this without her magic at hand.

Anya reached inside her chest armour and the silvery necklace glittered when she put its blue gem against the matching ones by Jaina’s forearms. The bracelets clattered against the ground.

“Please don’t go.” Anya whispered as she offered Jaina her staff.

Jaina was stunned. For several counts she only managed to blink.

Anya had set her loose. She could leave and be done with this stupid…something… She could teleport straight into Dalaran and never have to bother with insane persons who...damn it! Jaina raised her hand to cast the spell. Even if she would land naked in the middle of the Council Hall it would beat having to put up with this…this…

Anya was crying. She looked at Jaina with such terror and despair about her that it was more as if Jaina was about to run her through with an ice lance than teleport away.

So lost.

Her hair was tangled. A small twig and a bough or two had gotten stuck in it. That would never have happened normally. Never. Anya Eversong slid like wind and water around every obstacle. Jaina would have wanted to pluck them out and comb her hair in order again.

Her cheeks showed the tell-tale dark streaks. They begged for someone to wipe the tears away.

So sad.

Could anyone have thought this was Ranger Lieutenant Eversong, who would take on a fortress of Scarlets and an army of Scourge no matter how frightened she was, and wade into the thickest of fighting without a thought for herself and every thought for her friends? This terrified, lonely little pale elf…

So small.

Jaina felt a pang of pain. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. However angry she was she couldn’t leave Anya in a broken heap on the ground like this. And as she decided that Jaina’s anger trickled out of her, and even if she didn’t want to let Anya off that easily it felt good.

She let the spell fade and lowered her hand. Anya stared at her, in glassy-eyed shock at first and then with what Jaina assumed was disbelief, like she didn’t dare to trust her own eyes.

Jaina sighed deeply and the cold made itself known. She stiffly crawled back up onto the rock and shook her crumpled shirt and tunic off her arms before picking up Anya’s cloak to wrap herself in. It was cold, but lovely all the same. A touch of fire magic made it not lovely, but wondrous.

A fir clung to the bank of the stream next to her, its roots grasping at every point for purchase as firs did. Jaina sat herself down against the coarse bark of its trunk with the ranger cloak wrapped tightly around most of her.

“Anya...come…” Jaina sighed deeply and held out her arms.

Anya flew into them like a dark blur.

She curled up like a ball with her arms wrapped around Jaina’s neck and cried without end, shivering and shaking while Jaina wrapped the ranger cloak about them both and warmed them both with arcane heat.

“I’m sorry for that thing I said about a Forsaken vintage.” Jaina whispered into the delicate long ear.

Anya shook even more in her arms and Jaina realised that she was laughing, laughing and sobbing all the same.

“You are right about that. We have been twisted into e-e-evil, ugly things. We fear to lose you to plots and schemes and imagined threats while instead we make us lose you through nothing but our own horrid actions!” Anyas voice rose in distress but Jaina hushed her down.

“You are not evil, Anya… You are good…” She stroked across the dark hair, that was not the shiny black sheen of Lyana’s but simply just dark. Just Anya. “And beautiful.” Jaina placed the smallest kiss on the elven ear and felt Anya jolt.

They sat like that for a long time. Had it been any other time Jaina would have caught fire from the embarrassment of sitting with a dark ranger in her lap stark naked. But right now it just felt less important.

“Will you stay with us?” Anya asked in a small voice. All of her became so small somehow when Jaina held her, like she had shrunk to the size of a child in her arms.

Jaina sighed long and deep and nodded.

“I can not promise you to stay forever. And you must respect that, all of you. Either you trust me or this is over.”

Anya nodded against her.

“I will talk to Sylvanas.” she whispered. “Should…should I wear the bracelets? They limit banshee powers to an extent and you could put them on me in case things would…would turn hostile, since I did promise to kill you if I had to once before…I mean, if you think it would…”

“Tides, you are all a mess…” Jaina pinched her nose. She held up a hand as sign that she wanted to think for a while.

Beyond the trees the autumn sun was setting. It was high time to return to a warm tent for anyone who was fortunate enough to have it.

“I want to talk to Sylvanas when we can both be undisturbed and somewhat reasonable, and have the time to talk like adults again. ” Jaina finally said. Until then I guess I’d better wear these stupid things.” When she said that, Anya froze. “I will do that if you swear to me that you will remove them wherever and whenever I command you to, no matter what.”

“I swear it.” Anya said earnestly.

“You all seem to have such a thing for chaining me up…”

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXVII. Fear and Forgiveness

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Night had just fallen when the uncomfortable squadron stepped back through the encampment’s gates. Uncomfortable being the mildest you could say.

Areiel was leaning against one of the posts with obvious nonchalance that had nobody fooled. Anya swallowed out of reflex, or old habit perhaps. This would neither be brief nor pretty.

”Good evening, Dark Lady.” the ranger captain greeted them flatly.

”Ranger Captain.” There was an unspoken sigh in Sylvanas’ answer. She also knew what was coming.

”Is there mayhap something you would like to tell me?”

”Nothing you will want to hear.”

”Is that so? Because I would be very interested in knowing why I find my commander avoiding me like the plague for the entire day, and then suddenly she is gone without any other trace than four rangers of her squadron looking guilty of every conceivable offense and trying pitifully to be honest with me while at the same time covering for you.”

Sylvanas said nothing, waiting for the rest.

”Even more is my interest piqued by the fact that Lyana has been entrusted some manner of vial that someone important desperately needs to receive later in the day – and if something like that should be the case I very much hope she has – for some unspeakable reason or other.”

”It has been dealt with. The pers – she – has received it.” Sylvanas mumbled more to the ground than to Areiel.

”RANGER WINDRUNNER! You will bloody well explain yourself or you will bloody well not but you will bloody do it to my face and not the bloody ground! SQUADRON! ATTEND!”

Ranger-General, Dark Lady, Queen. No titles in the world would ever stop Sylvanas Windrunner from snapping to attention when Areiel used that tone. Nor anyone else, Anya thought as she held herself stiff as a post and would not have dared to breathe even if she had needed to.

”I do not know if it is my place to question in what way you have jeopardized the negotiations that better men and women than I have bled and died for. I do not know if it is my place to wonder what in all flaming hells you have been thinking when you did whatever it is you have done today.” Areiel’s words grated like rocks scraping against each other. ”But I will damn well have an answer to what you call this sun-forsaken pathetic display of how rangers act towards one another!”

When Ranger-Captain Areiel walked up and down the ranks like a lynx with a tooth-ache , it was not companies but regiments that feared to make the slightest noise without being ordered to.

”You, Ranger Proudmoore, have a great deal to explain about your perplexing way of showing how much you trust and respect your fellow rangers and a commander who personally went in to save your life from Scarlet Crusaders.”

”Yes Ranger-Captain!”

”Has Anya taught you nothing?! Is not the first bloody thing we teach that rangers rely on one another?! And even excepting that you have witnessed firsthand the capacity for rioting in the Undercity and are supposed to rule a city yourself! I can not possibly imagine what went through your mind, for you to come up with something so mad as letting traitors out behind the Dark Lady’s back! How can someone who is otherwise so bright display such a complete lack of judgement?!”

Jaina swallowed and weathered the storm.

”Perhaps the fault lies with us for placing expectations in a ranger with not two months of training and just a little over twenty years behind her. This situation is without precedent.”

That, Anya could tell, bit deeper than any shouting.

”No! No, it does not. I should have done better. I acted without thinking.”

”That, on the other hand, is not without precedent.” Areiel sighed. ”You still have a lot left to learn, Ranger Proudmoore.”

”Yes Ranger-Captain!”

”And you.” When Areiel returned to Sylvanas it was with the gravest seriousness. ”I once thought that I had trained one of the best elven rangers. I once thought that she had earned the title of ranger-general when it was offered her.”

”That is long gone now.” Sylvanas said tonelessly.

”And I once thought that at least some small part of the Sylvanas I knew lived on inside the Dark Lady that I witnessed learning what it was like to smile again.”

Anya wanted to cry.

”Now, I am not so sure.”

Anything. Anything, but to hear that disappointment in Areiel’s voice. It was crushing, infinitely more than the worst shouting match Anya could imagine.

”Or is it me you lack confidence in?”

”No.”

”Are you sure about that? Since you apparently decided to chain up the one ranger mage we have and who we are dependent on to communicate with the Undercity and the rest of our army, that would otherwise be very unfavourably deployed the way they have been spread out. I would have liked to believe that I would at the very least be notified before you decided to rob us of these advantages.”

”Of course.”

”Why is she in chains, Sylvanas?!” Areiel barked. ”Don’t tell me you actually strolled into Dalaran with her in that state?!”

”No.”

It was painfully evident how frustrated their captain was growing with Sylvanas’ lack of engagement, of presence.

”If there is truly nothing else left between you two – if it could honestly have gone so far – then Jaina Proudmoore is at the very least still an asset that we all can not afford to waste. You do not get to do that to us, Dark Lady.”

It almost seemed like Sylvanas would shrug. Almost.

”Anya. Release her.” Sylvanas was completely resigned. Hopeless.

Inside, Anya’s heart still soared despite everything.

”No. You do it. Clean up your own mess, Ranger Windrunner.” Areiel spat.

The short pause before Sylvanas turned to fish out her pendant and press it against Jaina’s bracelets felt like they could have been years.

Jaina glared back at Sylvanas’ downturned eyes with both dismay and defiance.

So hurt. They both looked – felt – so very hurt to Anya.

”We will speak more once I have reclaimed my civility. Ranger Lieutenant Eversong, you have a serious crisis of morale to deal with in your ranks. I suggest you get to it promptly. Squadron dismissed.”



***



Jaina’s squadron followed her to her tent, each looking more down than the other.

Well, not the whole squadron. Sylvanas was not with them. Nor would she be coming by later to at least look in on them when her other duties allowed. That time was past.

”Jaina? Would you…do you…that is…” Anya hesitated and searched for the words.

”You are allowed in, if that’s what you were wondering.”

”You…knew I was going to say that?” If Jaina had not been so tired and weary she would have found Anya’s consternation adorable.

”Yes Anya, I kind of did. But that is assuming…well, that any of you would want to remain in my presence, or what you should call it…”

”Jaina! Stop.” Clea interrupted her. ”We – we have had a terrible last two days and done things that don’t sit easy with any of us I think. But you’re one of us…? Aren’t you?”

Clea had never been this insecure since they were at sea.

”Yes she is.” For once it was Kitala who was the surer of the two. ”Jaina is our ranger sister and we are going to stand by her for good or worse. Tomorrow. We should talk tomorrow. For real, not like…” She made a vague gesture in the general direction of the gate. ”…that.”

”Y-yes. That would be good.” Jaina held on to that thought. They would talk, and she would try to explain as best she could, and she would at least have a chance of making them understand and not detest her. The thought of losing the affection of any of them terrified her, Jaina found.

”Maybe we should all try to rest.” Lyana suggested. ”I don’t think anyone of us should be on our own tonight. A pity I don’t have Kitthix with me. Then you could have slept with him for company. He’d be impartial to everything.”

Jaina nodded weakly. Lyana’s spider was in fact sort of cute when he sat on the dark ranger’s head or played with her. When it came down to it, he was in fact a splendidly nice spider.

”Alright, but remember, Jaina must be allowed to say all she has to say. We are not going to judge her beforehand.” Anya reminded the rest.

Despite everything terrible that had been, Jaina quickly fell asleep that night and she spent it without any dreams she could remember.

The next day Jaina had a gruelling headache.

She was not altogether surprised. Days like yesterday were bound to leave some kind of impression.

It appeared that no orders had come through during the night and Anya could order them about as she willed. The day was cold and clear with frost covering the ground and heralding the coming winter.

The dark rangers had packed blankets and a breakfast for Jaina during the night. It was Lyana’s idea, and Jaina quickly found that she approved of it despite the chilly weather. After checking another time that nothing was about that required their presence, and Anya notifying the sentries of where they would be going, the squadron set out for a nearby hill. From the top some of Dalaran was visible further away and over Lordamere Lake there were great swathes of mist drifting slowly about.

They found a sheltered spot where Jaina lighted a fire and then wrapped herself like the rest inside the blankets they had brought and started on her breakfast, and talked.

She did her very best to tell them everything. From how she had felt in their absence the day before yesterday, to the panic leading up to her rash decision to let the Forsaken prisoners go. The terrible time she had in her tent during the last day and Sylvanas’ condition on entering Dalaran. How the visit had turned out and how the fear of the poison – that later had turned out to already have been out of her body by that time – had clouded every minute. How the previous day had ended Jaina decided to gloss over. There was no real need to go into details about the fact that Anya had been sitting in her lap while she was naked with her cloak held around them both.

The rangers listened like the keenest mage apprentices.

”I don’t know what to say. Damn…” Kitala was the first one to break the silence when Jaina had finished.

”Am I right in assuming that Sylvanas hasn’t told you of what we were talking about while you were left alone in the Undercity?” Clea asked.

”Yes. Or no, she hasn’t. I thought – well honestly I thought a lot of things and most of them were really bad. I was afraid she would break up the squadron and I wouldn’t get to stay with you.”

”What? Why would she do that?” Kitala scrounged up her face.

”To replace the rangers in Anthis’ squadron?”

”Oh. Ah, damn it…Jaina, you don’t do things like that. There are times when squadrons are reformed but you don’t break up one that is working. Not, like, ever. And putting you somewhere else to be a mage without a guard – would that be a sane thing to do after what happened in the last battle?”

”No…but I didn’t know that.”

”I can see you being afraid of something like that happening. We would be.” Clea sighed. ”Sylvanas wanted to speak to us about you. But not in a bad way. She had had some talk with Varimathras and he had frankly just been trying to make up dirt about you – he is a slimy git – and Sylvanas asked if we would vouch for you now that we would be going into Dalaran. We all said yes, of course. I got the impression that she was content with that.”

”She was more than that.” Lyana spoke quietly but some time during their conversation they had all gathered closer around Jaina so it didn’t matter too much. ”She was satisfied. She wanted to hear it.”

”And then, exactly when we were having that conversation, you went and let her prisoners out and spirited them away.” Clea continued. ”And you didn’t tell her straight up but she got to know it when someone reported to Areiel that they had escaped.”

Jaina nodded into her drawn up knees. She was sitting with her arms tightly wrapped around her legs like she was cold, and in a sense she was. Cold inside.

”I think that Sylvanas had made her mind up to keep trusting you and dismiss Varimathras’ dirt about letters and portals and secret plans and whatever. Or at the very least hear you out properly before she made her decision. And then…” Clea shrugged. ”You could hardly have picked a worse time to go behind her back, could you?”

Clea was right. No matter how angry Jaina still was over what Sylvanas had done in retaliation Clea was still right about that.

Maybe retaliation was not the expressly accurate word here but – Tides!

Lyana’s next question broke her out of her introspection.

”You knew about this situation for some time, a few days, right? What I don’t understand is, why didn’t you talk to Sylvanas again about it? And explained how much it meant to you personally and – I don’t know – threatened to resign as ranger mage and not ally Theramore if she would go through with killing them like you feared?”

”I couldn’t do that?! I mean, that would be a matter of what is best for Theramore, not what I personally think –”

”You thought that Sylvanas would become like Arthas if she kept doing things like that. Turn the Forsaken into another Scourge. That is not someone you want as your ally, is it?”

”No…I guess not. I wanted to wait until after the battle of Ambermill and I thought that if I could do something really impressive there she would listen to me and people would be so happy about how the battle went that they would not care too much about other things and let her exile them instead. Or something.”

”Jaina…” Clea groaned. ”You idiot! You have saved her city, for goodness’ sake! You have let us outmanoeuvre the Scourge at almost every turn! You don’t need to impress any of us! Do you think Sylvanas likes you the way she does because you are useful to her?”

Did she, honestly? Was that how Jaina had viewed Sylvanas?

No, it couldn’t be. Sylvanas sought her help and advice and Jaina was happy to help – had been happy to help – but that was not all there was to it. Not even a larger part of all there was to it.

When Jaina fell asleep when Sylvanas was near her she was smiling. When she trained and learned the skills of a dark ranger Sylvanas looked on with pride even if they both knew it would be Jaina’s magic that would count. And when they teased and bantered the Dark Lady seemed like her freest self.

Or, correction: had been, had looked and had seemed.

”And the battle for Ambermill was a great victory for us.” Clea added sadly. ”We succeeded and we caused the Scourge a lot of losses. It just doesn’t feel that way when you have losses of your own. But we won, Jaina. And you did well.”

”And you are one of us.” Lyana insisted. ”Like Areiel said. That aren’t just empty words. You could have talked to us about it and we could have gone to Sylvanas together.”

”I didn’t think I’d be allowed.”

”Honestly it would have been better to break that rule than what we ended up with. But I think it would have been alright if you had asked Sylvanas to share because you felt badly about the situation. Or you could have at least asked to speak with Areiel about your concerns because she was privy to the knowledge.”

Jaina felt how her mouth pointed down. All of her face felt like it pointed down somewhow.

Lyana made it sound like it would have been so easy.

But it had been so hard.

”I was afraid she would say no.” Jaina whispered. ”I think I would have been afraid that you would all say no. And what then?”

”We – I shan’t speak for anyone but myself in this. I would have followed Sylvanas’ lead I think, even though I don’t much care for the opinions of the malcontents of the Undercity for the mob has never shown us kindness.” Lyana offered a half-hearted shrug.

Kitala was next. She spoke uncharacteristically solemnly.

”I would have gone with you, Jaina. I was given a second chance once, I should extend the same offer to others of my kind. Which is now the Forsaken.”

”I suppose I could hardly leave you to do it alone, then.” Clea concluded. ”Killing Forsaken would be a waste. Possibly excepting dreadlords. But in any case it’s got to be better to at least let them face the Scarlets in battle and do some damage before they die.”

”Anya?” Lyana asked their lieutenant who had been silent for a long time.

”I… If anything mattered a lot to you I would go with you and ask Sylvanas for it, Jaina.” Anya mumbled. ”But I think my opinion in this matter would not be helpful.”

”Would she…would Sylvanas have listened to you? Would…she have listened to me?”

Only silence.

”We can not know. Because we never did ask.”

That was what it came down to. Wasn’t it?

”I was afraid to hear her answer.” Jaina whispered.

”We are all afraid, Jaina.” Clea sighed as she pulled her closer. ”We are all afraid.”



***



The day passed without much happening until the early afternoon.

Sylvanas, Areiel and a retinue of deathguards and rangers came by Jaina’s tent and Sylvanas cordially – very cordially – requested a portal to be made to the Undercity.

”We can handle that, Dark Lady.” Anya answered her before anyone else could say anything. She was very obviously adamant on raising the bar for interactions between them back up to a respectable level. ”Right, Ranger Mage Proudmoore?”

”Of course, Lieutenant.” Jaina answered with model politeness. If nothing else she would behave exemplary to Anya and especially when Areiel was looking at them. Perhaps that would be how she and Sylvanas would communicate now, with forced politeness and through the medium of intermediaries and an adherence to military protocol that neither they nor any other rangers had ever bothered with.

The thought of it.

Jaina was still angry over yesterday, deeply angry and deeply insulted, but over it all she also felt monumentally bad for her own way of acting and the way her actions must have hurt Sylvanas, and disappointed Areiel and her squadron as well.

Tides, she was angry at herself and Sylvanas both. They were leaders of a nation each, of people who depended on them to act with infinitely better judgement than they had. They had to be able to do better than speaking to each other through Anya!

”Would you like it cast to the military quarters as the other times or to another location, Dark Lady?” Jaina did her best to be perfectly neutral. She would follow Anya’s lead and do her part to set a better example for how rangers should conduct themselves.

She could still not help to dwell on how far her neutral tone was from how she and Sylvanas had used to talk, and that cordiality almost sounded hostile when compared.

”Actually, make it to the throne room in the keep this time. Thank you for asking, Ranger Mage.” Sylvanas said slowly as if she really was thinking it over sincerely. She was keeping as tight a grip on her voice as Jaina, that was evident. Painfully evident. ”Lieutenant Eversong, you and your squadron may as well pack up your personal gear promptly. We will be relocating to the capital for some time. Leave the tent, it will be of more use out here.”

Anya saluted impeccably and led Jaina and the others to stow their things, which took a negligible amount of time with the meagre luggage they carried with them for five people.

When they formed up with the rest of the group Jaina saw that Kalira and her squadron had joined them. Velonara was waving at them while no one was watching. It made Jaina a little happier. Whatever else had happened Vel’ had gotten Cyndia back and they had all managed to get Westley and his horses safely to Dalaran. Those were valuable things.

”Anya, good –” Sylvanas stopped herself, like she suddenly was unsure if she was still supposed to exercise the same familiarity. ”Kalira will have the overall command of Ambermill and the surrounding areas while I am gone. If Dalaran answers then at least they will know her squadron from Westley’s account if they have any wits about them. Kalira, there was something you wanted to ask?”

”Yes. Ranger Mage Proudmoore.” Kalira turned towards Jaina and looked unusually thoughtful. ”In case we are approached by the Kirin Tor while you are in the Undercity, do you have any advice about how I should deal with your fellow archmages?”

Oh.

”Be your usual self.” Jaina said as earnestly as she possibly could. ”Be rational, collected, stick to the facts. Kirin Tor mages love facts because it gives them something to analyze and feel important about. Be everything that the Scourge’s slobbering ghouls are not.” She could see Cyndia grin amusedly. ”And there is a high probability that they will send Rhonin or someone who knows him well, like Archmage Modera. You can ask whoever they send to relay to him how Velonara’s first instinct when she got to hold my mage staff was to try and polymorph the next person into a sheep. That ought to break the ice.”

Cyndia and the other Nara’s tried futilely to cover their snickering while Velonara stuck her tongue out at Jaina. But she grinned widely so it was very obviously not sincerely meant and she ended up just doing a ridiculous ugly grimace.

Kalira’s squadron didn’t know what had happened. They thought everything was like it had been.

Like it should be.

”Really, Velonara?” Kalira said dryly with a knowing look at her. ”On second thought, why should I be surprised… Perhaps I should volunteer her for testing new polymorphing spells as a show of our good faith instead. Dark Lady.” Kalira nodded to Sylvanas and led her teasing squadron away.

Kalira was still sort of intimidating, but Tides knew if she wasn’t growing a sense of humour.

Sylvanas on the other hand looked stiff as a post.

”When we return to the capital…” she addressed both Jaina’s squadron and the rest of the retinue. ”…we will get to work immediately with proclaiming the news about negotiations having begun with Dalaran thanks to our hard-won victory at Ambermill. We state the facts as clearly as possible that we have spoken to them and extended the offer of a military alliance against the Scourge and are awaiting their answer. No more and no less. As an addendum, I want the word spread that eleven Forsaken have been exposed as traitors and former collaborators with the Scarlet Crusade. They have all been exiled for their acts and left to fend for themselves against the Scourge, since Lordaeron does not shelter those who would lend aid to its enemies. I will be by the stairs of the keep within the hour and anyone who so wishes is free to attend where I will address these developments.”

”Understood.” One of the deathguard commanders saluted.

”Lieutenant…” Sylvanas now addressed Anya directly. ”I want you to remain out of public sight during the rest of the day but keep watch over the keep. If you are signalled for or if you detect signs of a riot you will move in by the throne to lend assistance. We will use the throne room as a strong point in that case until we can retreat or gather reinforcements. Hopefully I will be able to call up enough guards to stifle any such tendencies long before they become an issue.”

”We’ll keep to the edge of the forest then. The west side offers a good view of the keep.” Anya answered without hesitation and earned a confirming nod from Sylvanas.

”Very well. Ranger Mage, we are ready.”

Jaina stepped forward and opened a portal into the Lordaeron Keep. A little bit of normalcy.

Normalcy…routine arcane travel between opposite ends of your kingdom. Everything was relative.

Jaina found herself grateful for Anya’s suggestion of keeping outside the city. The Undercity was not a place she longed for at the moment, for all its quirky charms.

Winter was coming soon. The weather had stayed cold and clear for days and the frost in the morning lingered longer each day. The sun shone with pale light like late autumn suns did. It was still a little bit of warmth to be had. Jaina found it suited the day well.

Anya posted Clea and Kitala as lookouts, Lyana as messenger that kept track of where everyone was, and herself and Jaina in the near forest.

”Jaina. Can we go for a walk? So you keep your warmth up.”

”Sure.”

They both knew that Jaina could easily warm herself with her fire magic if she had to.

The grey and leafless oaks looked more in place now when they were supposed to be bare anyway. Autumn and winter appeared to Jaina like…like merciful seasons to the undead. The living world did not flaunt its liveliness so much.

Anya did not hurry along, neither with walking nor conversation.

”Jaina… Are you angry with me?” she eventually asked.

”I don’t think I am.” They walked a few steps more. ”I was, earlier.”

”I hate myself for going through with it.”

”I can imagine that. You are very good at feeling bad about yourself. You all are.”

”And you.”

”And me. I guess we all are that, aren’t we?”

Anya stared ahead at the ground in front of them. Her hand happened to brush against Jaina’s, but Jaina saw through the pretence at coincidence and took Anya’s hand in her own. At least one thing more could be back to what it should be.

”I…” Anya suddenly stopped and turned around so Jaina could see the front of her when the dark ranger fished out two glimmering chains hanging around her neck. ”I have both keys now.”

Jaina tilted her head a little, waiting for Anya to elaborate.

”Sylvanas came to me in the night. She was distraught. She threw her necklace down on the ground and said she could clearly not be trusted to carry it anymore.”

”Oh.” Jaina didn’t quite know what more to say. She was thinking many things, there was no denying that.

”I’m going to bury the bracelets. Somewhere only I know where no one can ever find them, and then I will forget where!”

”I believe you, Anya. I think none have liked them less than you have.” Jaina squeezed her hand.

Nothing more was said for a while. They turned so they kept walking in a circle and not straying too far from Lyana’s eyes.

”I saw Sylvanas shortly after she had been killed and raised a banshee. The Scourge showed her off when they breached the gate of Silvermoon to break the spirits of all who were left to fight. I was with the last group of defenders who tried to hold the gate as long as possible. And I saw her, and in the terrifying undead creature she was I still saw Sylvanas and how she was in pain and torment she could not escape. It worked pretty well. I died shortly afterwards and was raised as another banshee.”

”Poor, poor Anya…” Jaina made a notion of pulling her closer but Anya resisted it with one hand firmly on Jaina’s arm. She did not want to turn her away, she had more she wanted to tell, Jaina concluded.

”Sylvanas wasn’t the one who killed me.” Anya pointed out as if she had read Jaina’s thoughts. ”Some undistinguished skeleton warrior or similar finished me off. But I know that she saw it happen. And that she felt it, that she was given enough awareness of herself and her surroundings to suffer interminably. They made her into a tool denied her own will, but conscious of it. I am not sure if it was the same for the rest of us. I…I do not fully trust my memories from that time to be reliable.”

”Sylvanas thinks so.” Jaina said lowly. She wanted to weep for Anya and all the others, for every single soul chained to the Lich King. ”She described some of that time to me.”

”It is…hard to imagine that anyone could ever like you after you have done such things.” Anya swallowed. Now she allowed Jaina to draw her closer. ”We try, we try so hard to keep such thoughts down but they are never gone. It is the same for all Forsaken.”

And it was very much so for their Dark Lady.

”It doesn’t excuse anything. I don’t mean it like that.” Anya said in a small voice. ”I don’t know what I mean. I’m never any good with words, I-”

Jaina silenced her with a finger placed over the dark ranger’s lips. She couldn’t say why, maybe she just knew that no amount of words alone would suffice when Anya was like this.

”Do not ever say that you are no good with words, Anya Eversong. If I had left last night like I had in mind it would have been a disaster for everybody. And remind me who it was that persuaded me not to.”

”You were right about us yesterday, Jaina. We are a m-mess.” Anya shook against her chest. ”Death is behind us and the shadow it casts is great enough to blot out anything we were when we were alive. Death is all there is ahead of us, our true deaths, at some unknown point that for all we know does not seem like it could be that far in the future. Death surrounds us, wherever we go. Whatever we do.”

”Shhh…”

”When you asked what we would have done if you had asked our advice about the Forsaken prisoners I didn’t say much. Because I fear that I would have rather m-murdered each of them myself than have Sylvanas blaming herself for whatever decision she made and its consequences. I would take that blame all on myself instead.”

”Anya, how can you possibly think Sylvanas would rather want that?”

”She wouldn’t! But that is all I can give her. That is all I can do for her. That is all I am.”

”That is not all you are! That is not even what you are!”

Jaina did not even know if she spoke of Anya or all the dark rangers together, and in the end it did not matter for she knew it was the same.

”It is easy to think so.” Anya disentangled herself from Jaina’s arms so she could look her in the eyes. The red candles that were Anya’s own had dimmed terribly. ”It is easy to think there are no other options granted to you and never will be. It is easy to make a wrong decision when any outcome but more death looks precious to you.”

Jaina thought she was finally seeing what Anya was trying to tell her.

”And it is easy to overlook that we are not alone in being affected so.” Anya closed her eyes. ”And that time when you were in the dungeons and let those prisoners out, I think that was your Wail.”

”You are the wisest banshee that ever haunted Azeroth, do you know that?”

”Clea is the wise one of us…” Anya mumbled.

We are all afraid, Jaina. We are all afraid.

Clea and Anya had spoken different words. But they had meant the same thing.

”How could I ever stay angry with you?” Jaina pulled her close again. That was where Anya belonged. ”Do you think the rest of the squadron can forgive me? I caused such a lot of trouble for you all and I hurt your Dark Lady.”

”Jaina, they already have.” Anya almost sounded a little exasperated and in the middle of everything it nearly made Jaina smile. ”It is just you and Sylvanas left.”

”We made such a mess of everything.” Jaina sighed. ”I am still angry with her, I can’t deny that. I am angry over what she did and that she could bring herself to do it at all. And she is angry with me and she has every right to be that. The things we did – they don’t excuse each other. We both should have acted better.”

”If Sylvanas lost you she would never recover...” Anya said in a small voice.

They kept walking and Jaina kept thinking. She had told Anya earlier that she wanted to talk to Sylvanas when they had both calmed down and could talk things through in a sensible way. She needed to do that, they could not afford to be at odds with each other, and for the sake of all others who depended on them if nothing else, they both had to try to find their way to being civil and cooperate.

Jaina already knew that.

But what did she want to do?

From a stately viewpoint she did not feel obligated to stay. Whatever diplomatic blunder and discourtesy the failed landing in Theramore had signified was water under the ship since long. The help Jaina had offered would have far outweighed any that Sylvanas could have hoped to gain from an official audience and negotiations with her, and the way the Forsaken had fought the Scourge, to the betterment of every living thing on the face of Azeroth, was nothing short of heroic.

As heads of state, she and Sylvanas were long since even.

Jaina was actually in a similar position as that time when she had first chosen to stay with Sylvanas and the crew of the Banshee’s Wail, except that at that previous time she had given her word not to run away. The choice was only hers. She could bring up a portal to Dalaran in a blink and get out the moment she wanted to.

She hadn’t then, and she hadn’t now.

Not for some stupid bracelets, but of her own personal choice.

So what did that say about her?

”I want to give Sylvanas a second chance. I want to give us both a second chance. Because we have to be able to do better than this.”

Anya squeezed her hand at that.

”Sylvanas is ashamed.” the dark ranger said. ”Don’t ever think otherwise. Even pitted against such formidable opponents as us two Sylvanas is the unchallenged master of blaming herself.”

”And she dares to lecture me about not speaking ill of myself?” Jaina huffed and realised that it was the first happier thing she had said about the Dark Lady for some time.

In her commanding way Sylvanas had been supportive, kind and attentive. She had comforted Jaina like not even Anya could when the mirror had broken and methodically crushed one after the other of Jaina’s insecurities. And…and they had had such fun together even when things were grim and dire all around them.

”I want to shout at her.” Jaina continued. ”And I want to apologise to her. I…I would like to give her something nice. I’ve never had the opportunity to buy something for any of you, actually. What does she like? What does she care much for?”

Anya thought for a while.

”I’m not sure, really. She wasn’t much for personal wealth and showing off with it, although her family was rather rich. She was too practical to care, like her mother Lireesa who was Ranger-General before her. Almost all things that were personally important to her would probably have been in her home in Windrunner Spire. But the estate lies far away inside the borders of Quel’thalas where we…are not allowed. And there is a possibility there could be Scourge there too. We know very little of how things stand beyond our own borders.”

”You wouldn’t happen to know the location?” Jaina asked thoughtfully.



***



Two days had passed since their return to the Undercity.

Sylvanas had spent every free minute of her time checking and double-checking in on the extra patrol shifts she had assigned the city guard, the deathguard detachment and the dark rangers deployed to assist them.

She was everywhere. She left no post uninspected, no guardsman unbothered, no one at all at ease.

The speech she had held had gone surprisingly smoothly. Sylvanas could not pinpoint any specific reason for it. She had lost touch with the Undercity during the Silverpine campaign and that was inevitable even when you were blessed with the ability to portal back when there was time and mana to spare. Sylvanas allowed herself no illusions though. She would not let her guard down. She would not let her mage come to more harm than she already had, nor Anya and her squadron.

At least that she could do.

Or so Sylvanas had reasoned until Areiel had pulled her out of her ceaseless shifts almost literally.

"Dark Lady. A word?"

"Ranger Captain." Sylvanas acknowledged her title like she was speaking to a superior officer. Areiel did not miss it, of course.

"I won't bite." Then she shook her head slightly, like it was at herself. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I should not be making jokes about a serious matter. Not this one in any case. Can we speak privately for a minute?"

Sylvanas nodded and they found a side street, or side passage strictly speaking, where fewer eyes and ears would be encountered.

"I don't intend to look like I'm going to yell at you again. I think I can behave like a civilised person this time." Areiel almost sighed. "I am still -"

"You are still angry with me."

"I am still angry with you." There was a short pause. "But I am not so blind I don't recognize when someone wants to do better."

"So?"

"You are keeping watch over her, Sylvanas."

"She is at risk and it is partly my doing. Ultimately it was I who brought her here and exposed her to everything vile that Lordaeron has to offer."

Unfortunately, deflection was useless against ranger captains of certain age and experience, and who knew you better than was convenient.

"You are keeping watch over her, and it is endearing, Sylvanas." Areiel said almost gently. "However, there has been two days since you spread the official news about the traitors' banishment. I have honestly not observed anything noteworthy that would indicate any brewing unrest since then. Have you?"

"No. I would have told you, and the captains -"

"I know that." Areiel interrupted her. "I know you would. As would I, of course. But since neither we nor anyone else is seeing signs of any immediate danger, don't you think it could be about time to ease up on the vigil, Dark Lady?"

Sylvanas stared straight ahead. It was not that she had not been thinking the same thing. Whatever immediate reaction the announcement could have sparked should have shown by now. Public feelings cooled quickly. But to let her guard down, to allow herself to in any way slack off, it was undeserved. If she allowed herself to do that, something would happen to her mage.

“The reinforced city guard can return to normal duties. No more double shifts.”

“And does that include their Dark Lady too?”

“I will make time for regular tasks.”

“Sylvanas…” Areiel said tiredly.

“What?”

“For goodness’ sake, talk to her.”

“I will. I intend to. I’m…going to.”

“Uh-huh…” The palpable skepticism was positively cloying.

“What if they are better off left alone?” With as little of her own bad influence poisoning everything around her. Well, literally actually.

“Your own squadron? Are you intentionally trying to make me angry? Do they look like they would be better off without you? Have Anya, ever, looked like she would?”

No. She had not. And that fundamental fact was something no amount of self-loathing could alter.

Anya and her squadron had made a room in the surface level library wing the new temporary home of Proudmoore, and by extension themselves. While it remained the most intact surface level part of the keep it was still a relative condition, and moreover the space was not intended for living in and not altogether easy to make inhabitable. Objectively the dungeons were actually superior, ever since Anya had had her way in them, apart from the fact that a mage was cut off from her own magic and its conveniences.

Subjectively, no person with a shred of decency would have the stomach to insist that Proudmoore remained quartered in a warded dungeon as things now stood.

Watching Clea and Kitala hauling furniture while Anya and Lyana made makeshift repairs to the walls and roof together with Proudmoore, had also given Sylvanas an idea. An impulsive idea, and impulsive was evidently not when she was at her best, but one she could possibly enlist the help of potentially sounder minds with.

“I am afraid to make everything worse when speaking to Proudmoore. I do not wish to cause more damage to what remains of our relations.”

“’Relations’? You normally use the singular form between persons, you know. Sylvanas, who would not fear to mess it up in such a situation? But prolonging it will only make it harder. And weirder.”

“There is something I’ve thought of. That I want to give her.”

“A peace offering? You would be hard pressed to find any flowers around these parts…”

“Flowers? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, that’s how humans tend to do it, was my impression?”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes very demonstratively.

“Not in these circumstances. That would be in…in another kind of relation.”

“Of course.” Areiel looked deceptively expressionless. Sylvanas wanted to reward her with a particularly icy glare but their current topic was in fact too important for that.

“I would like to offer her a surprise that will be welcome to her. But I can’t do it alone in any reasonable amount of time. So I would actually ask for your help. Not as your Dark Lady, or your former ranger-general, or anything else. Just…as Sylvanas, I suppose.”

“Colour me intrigued, Sylvanas.”

“It concerns part of the keep…”

Areiel cleared her throat.

“I feel obliged to remind you of a certain long-forgotten instance where I helped my brother-in-law repair a certain barn of his…”

“Yes, it gave out and slowly tipped over to collapse nearly on top of him in front of the neighbours gathered to celebrate its construction. He barely escaped with his skull in one piece.” Sylvanas smirked. “Your reputation as a sapper should be legendary. But I will take my chances anyway. I would…appreciate your help in this. It would mean a lot if…you would want to.”

“Any time, Sylvanas. Any time. Belore have mercy on Lordaeron Keep…”



***



”This is, I think, fairly revolutionary. Or just very dumb.” Jaina noted absently when she later took a firm hold of her mage staff in one hand and Anya in the other.

”You have not said any mean things about yourself and those are the only times you are dumb. So it must be revolutionary.”

”Anya, sometimes you’re so sweet you could flavour mana buns. Here we go, then. Azeroth’s first known map-based teleportation expedition.”

”Raid.”

”Yes, Lieutenant. Raid it is.”

Jaina drew in all the mana she could muster and searched with her mind along the arcane currents and lines that flowed north like a spider’s web. It was nearly, but not quite, like focusing with your eyes on something so that the surroundings blurred. Perhaps that mixed with an all-consuming sensation that blotted everything else out. Anya caressing your toes with soapy hands came to mind, but that was something Jaina was inclined to keep out of magical theory.

Across, over, under – leylines and flowing magic knew not necessarily physical bounds – Jaina’s consciousness fixed upon a point where land and sea looked in a way she had memorized next to land and sea she knew would be next to this location.

There.

She wove her spell complete.

They were away.

The sunset made the skeletal crowns of the trees glow with yellow-red light that streamed through. It would soon become completely dark.

All was quiet. Not a bird sang, no wind made any leaves tremble. The land was dead around them.

”Shhh…” Anya whispered to her while she crouched under the shade of a willow tree. ”I think we could be at the right place, but let me look around.”

”Do you recognize anything?” Jaina whispered back. Even the dried forests of Lordaeron were in a way less unsettling than this place. Lordaeron was blighted and dead, this forest was haunted. Or felt so anyway.

”Not exactly. When I came here everything was alive around me.” Anya peered into the grey patchwork of light and dark and shadow ahead. ”There looks to be open ground in that direction, we start with that.”

Jaina followed her. Anya tip-toed between twigs and branches like a noiseless shadow while Jaina thought herself barrelling forward like a herd of cattle in comparison.

The opening ahead turned out to be a road, or a wide path through the wood.

”I think we could be on the right track…” Anya pulled at her cloak and pointed ahead. ”That way.”

The dirt road lead upward in a wide turn and now when the last rays of sunlight had disappeared Jaina had to struggle to make out anything in detail, yet there were patches of open sky here and there and they found themselves coming out on a hill or ridge with a wide view ahead out over a shadowy landscape. But immediately in front of them were three tall towers, round and narrow like tree trunks as the elves favoured, dark and black and foreboding.

”Hide!” Anya hissed and pulled Jaina with her under a tree. ”Make yourself invisible.”

Jaina obeyed without question. She wove the spell so that Anya could detect her.

Anya peeked out and then pulled at Jaina’s cloak, and step by careful step they made their way back out on the road.

”Watch.” Anya whispered into her ear and probably pointed ahead but she was wrapped in shadow and Jaina could not discern her arm.

There was only darkness in various forms and shapes ahead, but then…

Silvery dots in the sky. Pale, wavy things that shone like moonlight.

”What are they?”

”Banshees.”

”Like you?”

”Not exactly. They are full banshees, or what you want to call it, without a body of their own to possess.” Anya explained in the ever-present whisper.

”They’re…they’re beautiful in a way. Is that what the rest of you look like if you shift?”

”Pretty much. Some are more blue or grey than silvery, and we think most of us dark rangers are darker in our banshee form than most. Like Sylvanas and the black flames you see at times.”

”What do you look like, Anya?”

”I don’t know, really. I haven’t…very clear memories about that from…earlier.”

”You’ve never…?”

”I only took my banshee form twice voluntarily and I was too preoccupied to spare a thought for what I looked like at the time.”

Anya was still looking for something, or simply scouting the surroundings ahead, so after a count of ten Jaina decided that she just had to ask.

”When was that?”

”When we brought you aboard the Banshee’s Wail. And then when I scaled the walls of Hearthglen.”

Jaina hugged her so hard they both nearly toppled into the grass.

”Jaina, quiet!” Anya hissed, very worried.

”You took your banshee form to rescue me.” Jaina whispered back affectionately. ”It is something you absolutely don’t like doing, that much is plain obvious and will not press you about why, but you did it anyway. My brave, sweet little ghost.”

”I think there is a technical difference between ghosts and banshees…” Anya mumbled shyly. ”I don’t think my cousins up ahead have spotted us. So long as we are quiet about it our best bet is to hurry straight ahead for the leftmost tower, that used to be Sylvanas’ home.”

”Alright. After you.”

”One, two…forward.”

Hiding in plain sight – plain darkness as it were – rarely felt so exposing as it did now. Jaina concentrated on keeping up with Anya and making as little noise as possible and to not look up where eerie creatures of silvery mist may appear at any time.

”Looks clear so far.” Anya breathed into her ear in the shadows under the doorway. ”Nicely done, Jaina. Welcome to Windrunner Spire.”

It was like another world inside. A past, a lingering all-encompassing memory of a time that had finally gone to rest, that Jaina stepped into. She nearly felt like turning back at the threshold like the uninvited guest she was.

Here the living Sylvanas had lived, grown, laughed and cried and felt safe long, long ago. She had had a family and a home.

A beautiful home too it was. The view must have been spectacular in daylight when the land was still alive around and the oval, leaf-shaped doorways and windows made the small floors seem airy and larger than they really were. Jaina would bet the windowsills here had made excellent reading spots.

”It is a bit of a time since I was last here but I think the best bet is to start from the top. See if you can find a room that looks like it could be hers. You know, full of ranger regalia and such…”

Anya climbed a stair higher than Jaina, who went to work one floor above what looked like a common room. Upstairs things were more broken, mostly because there were more items about she realised. These had been bedrooms and they had been filled with both furniture and precious personal effects. The Scourge minions that had come had turned it upside down.

There was no method behind the destruction and randomly one whole object would be lying in a pile of broken ones and underline the stark contrast between them. It saddened Jaina to see it.

For whatever wrongs Sylvanas had done she did not deserve to have her home desecrated like this. It may be far from the worst the Scourge had done – in the end it was all just objects – but Jaina mourned it all the same. Areiel’s student, Anya’s lieutenant and Vereesa’s big sister had lived here, for Tides’ sake! And that Sylvanas had been a good person.

Maybe she could still be.

Was that not the whole point?

Was that not what Jaina wanted so badly that she had even dared to cross Sylvanas for it?

She couldn’t give up on it now. Even if a part inside her was still furious with Her Intolerable Dark Ladyness.

But what should they bring back from all this mess? And how could they tell what was Sylvanas’ and what was her sisters’? Perhaps Anya had better luck.

Something clattered.

That was not like Anya. Jaina frowned and tightened the grip of her staff. And it had come from below. Had she become so absorbed in thinking of Sylvanas’ home and past that she had missed Anya going down?

On the other hand, since when did you need to be distracted to miss Anya Eversong’s gait?

Jaina tip-toed down the stairs into the common room. No Anya. She snuck closer to one of the windows to look out from behind the wall but only saw the night sky. This was odd, and for all the magics at her disposal it was unsettling. Jaina found that she was sweating despite the cold weather.

Anya would either still be upstairs or one floor further below, but she shouldn’t have gone down so far without telling, Jaina decided. That was when she heard another small noise. Definitely from below. She approached the stair carefully. If Anya was staying hidden, was there a chance she could not call out lest she alert one of the banshees? Was she trying to signal with sounds of falling items, which might be ignored in a derelict building?

Jaina breathed out in relief when she quickly peeked out and caught sight of a dark cloak below. Whatever it was that was about they would deal with it together. She hurried quietly down the stair, and the next moment found herself face to face with a dark ranger with her bow drawn.

It was not Anya.

[Maltacus]

Unless my eyes, or internet bots, deceive me there has been a bit of a growing interest as this tale stretches on. Which is very nice.

A great deal of you are presumably guests and lurkers on TWC because that is just about always the case for very understandable reasons. Now, I would be very interested in hearing your views on any of the chapters really if you feel up to it. And if you lack a TWC account or don't wish to comment here you can do so on fanfiction.net or Archive Of Our Own where this story is also posted (also by Maltacus) because guest comments are possible to write without being a registered user.

[Maltacus]

Chapter XXXVIII. The Lady's Necklace

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

”Loralen.”

Jaina twitched. She had been transfixed by the sight of the dark ranger, the other dark ranger, and had attention left neither for hearing Anya approach nor being relieved that she was with her.

”Anya.” Loralen offered a smile, but it was a false smile laced with cold. ”How generous of you to grace us with your presence, sister.”

Jaina felt rather than saw how Anya had her bow drawn behind her.

”I am touched by your welcoming too, Loralen. Can we lower our bows?”

”But of course.” Loralen smiled even wider yet it only gave Jaina shivers. She was desperately sure that she needed to be ready, but for what she could not quite say.

Could she fight against a dark ranger?

Loralen flippantly put both bow and arrow away though, and apparently Anya was doing the same.

”Happier now? We would so hate to make our delicate living guests uncomfortable.” Loralen whispered with mocking sweetness. ”Oh, that is right…you are not alive any more, are you, Anya?”

Loralen had tilted her head, and on another day and on another person her expression may have looked cute instead of terrifying.

”You are dead, Anya.” she hissed malevolently.

”Thank you, it must have eluded me.” Anya answered with a little grain of defiance that Jaina was instantly proud of. It made Loralen’s gaze harden.

”Poor you, safe back in Silvermoon and yet still you were just as unable as the rest of us to escape your fate, hm? How ironic, would you not say?”

Anya had stepped up to Jaina’s side now, and Jaina could see the minute traces of tension on her features that told her that the words hit something deep.

”I would gladly have joined you. And traded places with you, or Lyana, or Denyelle, or anyone else at the Outer Gate.”

”Yet you didn’t, did you? You left us all to die under Lyana’s command instead while you were singing lullabies.”

”You never needed me to tell you what to do before. And she told me Areiel commanded until the end anyway.”

”Oh, you have met her, have you? Has she also made herself a pawn of the living?”

”Lyana serves Sylvanas, like I do! And we are free!”

Loralen cast a telling and venomous look at Jaina, as if to point out who it looked like Anya was serving at the moment.

”She is neither elf nor dead. By what right does she trespass in this place?”

”Jaina is here on my invitation. She is our ally and our sister-in-arms. She is one of my rangers.” When Anya said the last thing her voice trembled with pride.

”Ally? The living haunts us, Anya. They will never suffer our kind to remain in their world.”

”SHUT UP! I grow SICK of hearing such things! If you can not tell friend from foe then that is your curse, Loralen, not mine. And I will not waste time defending myself before someone who will not even listen to me.”

”Friend? The dead do not make friends with the living. The dead are used, used and discarded and buried.” Loralen’s face had drawn into a spiteful grimace as contempt overtook her. ”We are dead, and you would be wiser to accept it. Oh, I have heard the whispers. You would call yourselves Forsaken, yet I think it is you who have forsaken the rest of us the way you so eagerly fight the battles of your living masters.”

”That is not the case!” Anya replied in shock.

”No? Prove me wrong then, and tell me exactly how many living who have died to preserve one of you.” Loralen gestured at Jaina.

Anya remained silent.

”I thought so. And how many of you have fallen to preserve the lives of the living?”

”Far too many.” Jaina interrupted. Her throat felt hoarse and dry from her long and tense silence. ”And I will keep and honour their memory for the rest of my days.”

”I am sure it is of great comfort to them.” Loralen snarled at her.

”I am done listening to you.” Anya said, and her defiance could not hide her sadness. ”Step out of the way. We are leaving, and I have no desire to hurt you”

”A little late for such considerations… If you will not speak to me, then how about them?” Loralen hissed it between her tightly clenched lips.

Jaina had not noticed it until now. An eerie, otherwordly light that did not have a source to emanate from. Not the way a lamp or torch looked in any case. Silvery, pale light that flickered through the windows and doorways to other rooms.

Silvery, pale shapes.

Jaina’s breath hitched.

She had never seen a banshee up close in this manner. Let alone so many of them. Sylvanas, when Jaina had watched her Wail in battle, had been more like a dark cloak of mist when seen from behind.

These were something else. Full banshees, indeed. Stauesque and elegant in a way, and broken and torn in their appearance like many ghostly tatters and threads that swirled around them like a torn dress, almost. Mesmerising, and frightening. Alluring, and repelling.

The air was filling with whispers and echoes, like the way Sylvanas echoed when she raised her voice, but lower and more drawn out. Whispers in the wind, Jaina thought she would describe it as. Both musical and threatening.

”Sisters, do not fight each other…”

”…one of us is back…”

”…she is lost…”

”…mislead…”

”…what has brought you here, living one?”

The whispers had sharpened into a hiss. The kind of hiss you could expect to hear when a serpent rose from its coils to scare off whoever had disturbed it.

”G-greetings? My n-name is Jaina Proudmoore –” Jaina stammered. She at once felt unnaturally cold, in palpable danger and like she had just trackled mud across a distinguished lady’s pristine floors.

”She is my ranger and my friend.” Anya cut her off.

”…does not belong here…”

”You belong with us, Anya Eversong…”

”…come to us…”

”…one of us…”

”Leave, if you have nothing kinder to say.”

”…not like us…”

”…treacherous…”

”She will betray you…”

”…she is living…”

”Leave us alone!”

The whispers only grew louder and more insistent.

”…where do you truly have to go…”

”…where do you belong if not with your sisters, Anya?”

”What are you if not one of us?”

”…what are you…”

”…what are you…”

”HEEEEEERS!” Anya screamed and her scream grew and grew into something more and something worse as she jumped upon Jaina and clutched her ears so that Jaina felt like her skull would crack at any moment from the pressure and the horrible sound that split bone and mind and soul alike apart.

Time seemed to slow when every impossibly shrill tone, or simply every discernible part of the same sound, stabbed against her eardrums and against her innermost self. Only black writhing smoke in the vague shape of Anya was around her but something solid, something relentless, still clamped down upon Jaina’s ears and turned her head away form the sight and the sound. Jaina knew instinctively that the Wail was directed and that she was not in its intended path. Anya was keeping her down and turned as far away from it as possible in the same manner she might keep an infant Jaina shielded from a nightmarish sight.

Awareness of the flow of things returned one or three small steps at a time.

The pounding hammer-strokes upon her hearing lessened and lessened as the echoes of the Wail died down. A monotone, thin sound replaced them and would not stop.

The pressure on her ears disappeared and dull physical pain started to spread as Jaina’s senses allowed themselves to reawaken.

The other banshees and Loralen were gone. In front of her Jaina saw Anya kneeling and moving her mouth. She made no sound at all that altered the constantly echoing tone in Jaina’s ears. She had never been good at reading people’s lips and only looked confused when Anya probably repeated herself. The dark ranger reached down to pick a healing potion from her belt and insistently handed it over to Jaina. That sort of sign language was at least universally understandable and as Jaina gulped it down the pain in her head receded and the monotone sound abated.

”…hear me?”

”Yes, it’s better now. Thank you, Anya.”

”We need to go. Quickly. They will come back. Do you have the strength to make us a portal from here?”

”I…” Jaina blinked and tried to shake herself back to the present. ”Yes, I think so. I haven’t used up all that much of my mana at all actually. Tides, I didn’t know what to do at all –”

”Let’s go home first. We’ll talk later.”

Finding your way back to well-known locations was never nearly as hard as feeling your way to a foreign one. Within a minute Jaina and Anya stepped back through her portal onto Lordaeronian ground, wild-eyed and shocked but at least in one piece.



***



A queen could command anyone and anything under her. That was as much true among the Forsaken as in most other realms. Rarer was the sight of a queen who genuinely asked for help.

Sylvanas had been a rare queen this day.

She had asked Areiel, as a friend and not a Banshee Queen, for help. Then she had asked Clea and Kitala, also as a friend. Then another. And another.

Sylvanas was not used to the idea of having friends like this on a personal level. Or no, that was not quite right. She had forgotten – or nearly forgotten – how to be just friends, on a personal level without the ever-present shadow of her own position and duty hanging over herself and everyone else. To be Sylvanas, without an unspoken prefix in front.

Being the way she could allow herself to be during short, stolen moments with Anya and short, undeserved moments with her mage.

Being free.

Today at least Sylvanas gave it a damn good try. Which meant that she was working as hard as she could.

For royal libraries did not renovate themselves.

Being the least damaged part of the keep did not equate undamaged and if they would want the majority of the books to be anything but rotting mush of smeared papers when the next summer came it was high time to do something about it. Also, if an archmage was ever to be able to read in peace without having to call upon a fire spell for her own warmth every other minute, then these broken windows and holes in the roof were unacceptable. A mage like Proudmoore could not be treated to that. A mage like Proudmoore deserved a hundred times better.

Sylvanas and Areiel were hauling stones and broken masonry from the ruins outside, since they were the strongest along with Clea and since Areiel insisted that it was safest for all future occupants if she kept her distance from the actual construction.

They were not out of able hands to make use of the raw materials. Kitala had run off to fetch the Loras family, and when she leaked that they were building a warm lair for the funny living ranger mage – and that the work was taking place outside – the children had apparently vanished in the blink of an eye to fetch half a neighbourhood’s worth of families.

Families who were not rangers or soldiers, but craftsmen.

Sylvanas knew professional pride when she saw it. The gruelling, thankless and graceless digging and hacking of tunnels they had consigned themselves to, out of the sheer necessity of making room for everyone within the safety of the Undercity, was not where their talents lay. The mason’s ingenuity may be put to test to make the most out of what they had below, but the art of his craft did not blossom into what it could be in such conditions.

Rebuilding a castle just because they could, that was more like it.

Sylvanas’ very humble idea had grown out of all proportions into a gathering, into a fair or a festival of the oddest sort. Forsaken stood taller than in a long time in broad daylight absent the stifling worry of Scourge or Scarlet invaders, and even allowing themselves to bicker and disagree about the optimal way of solving an architectural problem, the way engaged professionals in every field do from time to time.

Kitala had even braved the chimney to clear out the soot and inspect the masonry, but after she got stuck and had to be dragged out by Clea the latter had taken over the task and haunted the chimney in her banshee form. Areiel was quick to make a suitably annoying comment about the various kinds of dark smoke and a quickly gathered part of the smaller children kept watch expectantly, if someone would appear out of the fireplace to bring them something interesting.

Sylvanas could not care less. So long as she got her library made for her mage she would put up with any amount of inane…with any amount of dark ranger-like playfulness that she would not begrudge anyone.

Late in the day, the castle actually had a library worthy of being called so. A little haphazard, a little odd, but when the first fire in nearly two years was lit in the fireplace it was warm. The floor was swept reasonably clean and there were frayed and tattered rugs to cover most of it. And Proudmoore would think it was enough.

Sylvanas had not had a very clear idea of how she should present the gift to her mage. For a fleeting moment she had contemplated asking everyone to leave but a look at the content mass of people for once able to gather together and be warm in front of a hearth made her reconsider. It was their keep too and there would be time to speak alone with her mage later. Proudmoore was the last kind of person who would want Sylvanas to expel them.

“Well done.” Areiel whispered next to her. “Should we go and find our ranger mage?”

“Yes…” Sylvanas suddenly realised that she didn’t know where Proudmoore were. Nor Anya. It was a very likely guess that they would be in the same place but for once Sylvanas had no idea where. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she could be?”

Having to ask like that, it shamed her. How unthinkable it would have been just a week ago.

“I sent Lyana to look for them a while ago.” Now Areiel was frowning. “That is actually odd of Anya not to notify anyone.”

Sylvanas signed to Areiel to come with her. They went out into the corridor outside, through the adjoining archives and the rooms that Anya’s squadron had furnished into living quarters for their mage. There was no sign of anyone.

“Go and ask Clea and Kitala if they know something.” Sylvanas said and kept walking through the keep towards the general direction of the throne room. The floors above were too broken to be of much use, unless Anya had been at them of course. Sylvanas sprinted and climbed up the remains of the stairs and walked briskly across deserted halls and torn walls. It was more nothing than something in these parts of the keep. Still Anya had found a secluded spot for them to draw Sylvanas a bath that one time.

She stepped inside that room too, in fact one of the more intact, but it was deserted.

The bathtub was left where she had last seen it. Except that it was broken. Like if something had hit it, like a stone or a huge club.

Or a very hard foot for that matter.

Poor Anya, how you must have toiled just to make me feel better. You had every right to be angry.

She had to find something she could do for Anya too.

She had to find both of them.

Now.

Because something was not right.

Sylvanas could feel it.

She hurried out of the room, taking the path down in longer and longer strides and nearly jumping down back to the main floor where she was coming almost face to face with Lyana.

“Dark Lady! Anya and Jaina are gone.”



***



Anya and Jaina had just sunk down on a piece of rubble in a hidden nook in the Undercity. Anya had an excellent sense for nooks.

Jaina felt slightly wobbly, now that the rush of excitement and danger was fading. She was not physically exhausted but mentally she felt overwhelmed. There was so much she was going to wonder about but for now the best possible thing was to sit leaning against Anya and think of as little as possible.

“In retrospect this wasn’t maybe the best idea…” Jaina mumbled. “I put you in terrible danger for my sake. I’m so sorry for that.”

“I put myself in danger! I choose to come with you.” Anya did not snap but she said it uncommonly sternly, which sounded almost harsh coming from her.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that! Not like Loralen…just… You could have been killed! Coming there for me. That’s all…”

“You would not have let me. And I will not let you come to harm.” Anya said sullenly. “Not ever.”

“I know. I know. You kept me safe when I couldn’t think of what to do. I don’t quite know what came over me, I guess…I just find it hard to imagine myself fighting a banshee nowadays… Wasn’t much of an archmage out there.”

”You did cast something. I could feel it. Around you, and us.”

”It…it was improvised. I couldn’t make a shield without pushing you away or possibly harming you so I must have formed the magic into a…buffer? Maybe? I don’t quite know what to call it.”

They sat in silence for a while. It would be completely dark outside by now, late in the day. Late in the evening, perhaps.

They should probably go find Sylvanas any minute, yet Jaina knew enough of her dark ranger to recognize that something bothered Anya tremendously, and she had a pretty good idea of what.

“I…I said a bad word when we were in the spire…” Anya whispered. It was like she was afraid of even talking about it.

Jaina could ask one of the hundred of questions she wanted to some time ask about banshees and their Wails. She could burst out into the spirited tirade in Anya’s defence against every possible depreciative thought that was never far under the surface in her mind.

And she could let those things wait because the only proper thing to do right now was to cup Anya’s face in her hands and press her lips tenderly against the cheekbone just beneath those frightened eyes that threatened to break into tears.

“I have learned that sometimes, when a banshee gets really, really angry, she can do that. Or when she gets really, really afraid.”

“Not…not all of it… That’s not all of it… I…choose to…” The choked way the dark ranger forced out the words was akin to a confession of a heinous crime that Jaina was refusing to understand the magnitude of.

“Sometimes you just need to say a bad word.” Jaina had removed her lips just enough to speak. “When other people are being mean.”

Anya nodded hesitantly.

“The other dark ranger, who was that?”

“Loralen and Denyelle were part of my old squadron. So was Lyana. They perished early during the Scourge invasion when the Outer Gate fell.” This was news to Jaina. She had just always assumed that Clea and Kitala had been with Anya even when they had been alive, but perhaps that was not the case. “I was not there, as she said. But I never…no one thought…”

“Anya… No sane person would think you would ever have left your squadron to face something like the Scourge without you. No one. Loralen was talking crap.”

“You are kind to say so.” Anya was looking down. There was a lot of fight that had gone out of her.

“You were so brave.” Jaina touched her chin. She wanted Anya to look up at her. “And I understand that you did something very hard for you out there for my sake. Thank you, Anya. For saving me.”

“Always.”

How big her red eyes looked right now. You could lose yourself in them if you weren’t careful.

“I…hrm…” Jaina struggled to find the right words, or any words in fact. “I did not find any suitable item when I searched. It seems our adventure left us with empty hands.”

A slow and content smile spread across Anya’s face. Her fangs peeked out over her lower lip in a way that made her look very mischievous. It was completely adorable, Jaina realised. Did only Anya do that or had she missed the trait completely with every other elf she had met?

“I think not…” Anya slowly and carefully fished out a thin golden chain from inside her chest armour.

It was a necklace. It shimmered, a remarkable piece of jewellery that didn’t seem to succumb to the gloom that permeated these parts of the Undercity.

To Sylvanas from Alleria.

The inscription read clearly, in thin, elegant Thalassian engraving. Given the inscription, and where they had found it, it certainly had to be a lost property of Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner herself.

“Anya, that’s extraordinary! A gift to Sylvanas from her big sister?!”

“Sylvanas, she…always looked up to Alleria. She was someone she could turn to no matter what, even when they were at odds and when Alleria refused to follow tradition and such. Maybe – hopefully – it could be a reminder of those who cared for Sylvanas. They wouldn’t want her to be miserable.” Anya mumbled.

Jaina swallowed. It was a thing of gravity she held in her hand. Who among the Forsaken had at all experienced the blessing of the smallest touch of home, of something so unbroken from the lives they had lived?

A lot hinged on this conversation.

“I need to report these news to Areiel, about Loralen and those others. Good luck now.” Before Jaina had time to react, Anya had kissed her on the cheek, and was gone.



***



Sylvanas watched herself go mad.

There was no other way to put it. No less drastic expression did justice to the feeling of nearly being able to watch, as the threads keeping her soul and sanity together unravelled and how the coherence of her thoughts slipped by her the way water slipped through spread out fingers.

She had roused – by angry shouting – every ranger at hand above the surface and sent them running in each and all directions on the off chance that Anya and Jaina were simply by themselves in the vicinity. She had ran along herself, unthinking and in truth randomly, until the thought had struck her that they may just as well have gotten themselves lost somewhere below if that was what they would have been feeling up to.

The Undercity was not a safe place at the best of times.

Dreadful images of collapsed shafts leapt at her one after the other, ramshackle beams giving way and shoddy supports caving in under the pressure of innumerable tons of rock and earth above. Weight that could crush even such resilient creatures as the strongest undead into pieces. What happened when a banshee was trapped in her own body? Was it possible for her to cease possessing it at will and save herself in her spiritual form? It was an incorporeal form, not invincible.

And the living. Who needed to breathe air, who bled and suffocated and were so terribly, terribly fragile in the end and who – in the worst case – would only need a single hard hit to be rendered unconscious and helpless in the face of sliding rocks or just plain dirty water.

How sure was she about Jaina’s standing with her people, again? It had taken ludicrously little to tip her own scales against her mage and if Sylvanas’ mistakes had resulted in her shameful actions, then what might be expected from a wholly malicious mind? What was there to say the danger was over and none had – right or wrong – decided to blame the Dark Lady’s mage for the leniency towards alleged traitors after all, just like they had feared?

Damned be what she felt, damned be what had befallen them.

How could she have been such a colossal fool to let Jaina out of her sight?

How could she let her anywhere near someone like Varimathras?

At that point Sylvanas had broken off and rushed heedlessly for the closest entrance, half in banshee form and more than halfway to drawing her daggers. If that wretched demon had so much as thought about…

He had not. Or in the case he had masked every sign of foul play when Sylvanas charged inside to turn her chancellor’s and indeed the entire City Council’s quarters inside out, followed by whatever city guards she had collected in her frantic rampage through the streets to get there.

Sylvanas then turned her attention to the canals. She hated them right then and there. What good were they, when they brought neither clean water for living allies nor kept Scourge at bay? They should dam up the entire sewer system properly and make use of the reclaimed space instead! She would scour the entire length and breadth of this stinking capital of hers until it spat her best mage and ranger back up and no one and nothing would so much as whisper a word in refusal right now!

If not the canals, then the mines. The volatile new caverns and winding passages dug out with improvised tools and methods by eager and fanatically hard-working laymen – they were practically begging for something to go dreadfully wrong – under the constant pressure of time before who knew which enemy would attack again. Why would Anya and Jaina have gone there?

Why would they not?

Why would they not have come up with a brilliant and absurdly dangerous idea to improve the lot of the Forsaken in some completely reckless and irresponsible manner that put themselves at stupefying risks?

The Banshee Queen haunted those mines. She ran, jumped, glided through pitch black darkness and dim light alike, the latter after she had snatched up a lantern. Tracking skills sufficed little against bare rock and gravel upon which one shoddy boot’s imprint was as good as the next. Darkness was everywhere. The physical mirror of the visions she would see, or imagine herself seeing, when black nothingness opened up to swallow her, a maw of endless void and insatiable hunger. An abyss she could not stop herself from falling into, only watch from a corner of her own mind.

It had been…some time since these waking nightmares had come. Months to be precise.

Ever since she brought a human mage onboard the Banshee’s Wail, a mage that now every pile of earth and every stack of stone and rubble took the appearance of.

Sylvanas must not Wail. She could not afford it. Not now.

My little mage, where have you gone? Anya, where are you?

It would be too late. Of course it would be too late. Too late for the likes of Sylvanas Windrunner for whom only a true death and the Lich King’s laughter were what the future held in store. Fate, circumstance, misfortune – called whatever name that elf or human could think of but it would not allow her more than a cruel glimpse of what could have been, not for real. Twist and turn herself she may but at the end of the day, or night as would be more apt, she was still a banshee whose soul blackened by the blood of hundreds could expect no lenience.

She walked without noticing anything in particular back to her dreary lair in the depths of this…this tomb of a city.

Her walls closed around her until she blinked and they were plain grey stone again. They rose into towering mountainsides as Sylvanas sank down into her chair by her desk.

Then the door opened and Jaina stepped inside.

If Sylvanas had held anything in her hands she would have dropped it. She stared.

Are you a phantom image come to mock me? Jaina?

“Sylvanas? May I…speak to you for a while? Please?”

Speak to me? After…after all you have – where have you had the gall to have been?! Speaking is the least you will do, you – my – unthinking, careless, foolhardy, insane mage!

Sylvanas gestured mutely at the chair in front of her while she struggled to keep herself from exploding.

“I – that is, me and Anya – we have a gift for you. That we brought. Or more correctly returned to its owner.”

Something golden shimmered in Jaina’s hand. It was so unexpected, so completely out of place here and now, that to Sylvanas it was just another nuisance when all she wanted was to somehow make sure that Jaina was indeed Jaina somehow sitting right in front of her, with her hair in tangles that begged to be combed out and her ranger cloak hanging down too much on the left.

"What's that you have there? That necklace looks somehow familiar. Give it here!"

The harsh words came out so wrong but Sylvanas could not stop them. She knew it was the last thing she wanted to say, should say, needed to say, but she no longer had the strength to steer the maelstrom of emotion inside, only to keep it from erupting into something even worse. She could only watch her thoughts running rampant.

Jaina was putting the necklace down on the table. She was being so careful with it.

“We visited Windrunner Spire and came across this.”

I know this jewellery down to the smallest dent in the third link. I know the difference between the light cast when the sun shines on the stone from the right and from the left. I know how it feels against every inch of my throat. And I know that I left it in a box for years and has not thought of ever seeing it again. And now you have it here right before my eyes and –

"It can't be! After all this time, I thought it was lost forever."

“Not any more.” Jaina’s eyes twinkled. Of all things. Now.

Is this a game to you?! Do you have any idea what you caused by disappearing without a single trace, let alone telling anyone what you were going to do and where? I am inches from screaming at you for it! Have you the slightest idea of what was going on here in the meantime, or what could have happened? What if we had been attacked? Have you completely forgotten how we are at war and how many people that have come to depend on your presence? And you sit before like nothing has happened and –

“You thought this would amuse me?”

“We wanted to give you a gift. And a gift that would be something important, so that was why we visited your old home. It wasn’t supposed to take so long but the thing is, we encountered a lot of banshees there…”

Banshees. Scourge banshees, presumably? You rush headlong into the deepest of the blighted parts of Quel’thalas where if not the Scourge would get you then an elven patrol could have, and they do not stop to ask questions any more I can tell you! Were you TRYING to get yourselves killed?! How can you even think of something like this?! Is it not enough that I have hurt you so deeply already but must you and Anya court your true deaths in this manner on top of everything? For a…gilded TRINKET! What do I care for relics of the past when put against your life?!

“Do you think I long for a time before I was the queen of the Forsaken?”

That I long for it so much that I would not be bothered sending mine to their deaths to retrieve mementos on a whim? Is that what you think of me?

“Uh, no – yes – I – we – we just thought it would be something you would like to have. That it would mean something, hopefully mean a lot…”

Jaina looked so unsure of herself. Belore, this wasn’t what Sylvanas wanted! But this, all of this, it was so overwhelmingly insane, that she could just keep herself from bursting apart in a Wail. Her thoughts spun so fast that it was only with the greatest difficulty she could catch one of them and put it into words and even so a dozen more passed her by as she spoke, faster and faster and faster.

Jaina, how could you ever think that anyone could care more for a piece of metal than for you? How can you risk yourself for dead gold that is nothing more than dirt next to that in your locks? What gems can compare to those two that look upon me? Have I done this to you? Did I drive you to this reckless thing? It is not the gifts of those closest to me that hold meaning, it is they themselves.

“Like you…” Sylvanas whispered.

“Like…me?”

Like you. My little mage. I would take it all back if I could. I would rather have it that I was taken unawares when someone proved false for real than to have hurt you like I did over falseness imagined. Damn any traitorous prisoners! Damn any malcontents I could not care less about! Damn this entire rotten city!

“It means nothing to me.” Sylvanas vaguely gestured around them. “And Alleria Windrunner is a long dead memory!”

She is nothing in comparison for she is gone, and you are not! And Alleria would personally GUT me if she saw me putting her memory ahead of my ranger sisters who were still with me! She would be ashamed to call herself Windrunner if she saw me do that!

Jaina’s face fell. She blinked, crestfallen and unbelieving and her eyes were turning misty.

“How can you…say that…? How can…” The mage sniffed, and she became hard and rigid and brittle, so very brittle that it was like shards sharp enough to cut yourself upon. “Well then! If – if that is all there is to it then I shall not take up more of the Dark Lady’s valuable time! I hope it is acceptable that I now remove myself from her distinguished presence!”

What have I said? Something dreadfully wrong that I can not even grasp. Even a civil conversation is a feat beyond me as of now. All I attempt today fail before it can even begin. Go, Jaina. Before you are hurt even more by this poison that I am. I do not even know how to say that in a way you will not misunderstand.

Instead Sylvanas just echoed the words Jaina had spoken.

“You may now remove yourself from my presence, Ranger Mage.”

Her mage slammed the door shut after her so that dust trickled from the ceiling.

Sylvanas sank with her head into her palms. What had she really done and said? Why would her wild thoughts not quiet? Begone! All of them!

She beat at her own forehead in frustration. What had she really said? Words, thoughts, sentences, there was no telling one from the other!

Start from the beginning.

Follow your thoughts. Retrace and observe them without forcing anything. Like she had once instructed Jaina to on the road back from Hearthglen.

How easy it was to tell someone else to do it.

What of that she had thought had she managed to put into actual words for Jaina?

Oh, no…

What have I really said to her?

Sylvanas leapt for the door.

“Jaina… Jaina, wait… Please…”



***



Jaina stumbled forward. She was blind to where she went.

How could she?

How could she?

After all she had tried, after all she had done, after she had torn her heart out and laid it bare before her rangers and...

Did Jaina even know the Banshee Queen anymore?

Why are you like this, why, why, why? I look upon you and I don’t recognize you anymore.

Had she ever?

Had it all been a lie, or a pastime for Sylvanas, a faint facade of something else than what Sylvanas Windrunner truly was?

Jaina couldn’t do this anymore. She had nothing left to give. She could not bear this crushing existence of death and horror and despair everywhere around her. She was physically suffocating, she needed air, and now! She couldn’t stand the weight of this endless agony where every smile hid a boiling scream of terror and no laugh could be laughed without its twisted twin of torment being ever so close at hand.

She could no longer help Sylvanas.

The realisation hit Jaina with crushing finality.

I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home to Theramore. To Dalaran.

To Pained.

Pained!

Tears flowed like rivers and covered the world in their mist. Jaina looked past them, past, past everything and everything, into the depths of Azeroth’s flowing magic, into the leylines and arcane currents that would rip a careless soul to shreds if she did not know exactly what she was doing, past, past it all, unto the glimmering spark on the other side of the world that Jaina knew was home.

She trembled when her portal took shape, a portal stretching beyond all sense and reason, and it flickered and flashed in and out of existence – and it was gone and Jaina with it, and she fell forward on the hard tiles of her own wooden floor in the cramped little bedroom and study in the tower that was home.

Jaina whimpered as she struggled to her feet, in sorrow or in hurt or in both. The staff had fallen out of her hands. She almost did not catch the footsteps nearing her.

“My… Lady Jaina?!”

The last vestiges of Jaina’s composure broke down and she fell into Pained’s arms and cried without end.



***



Anya had finally finished her report to Areiel and hurried through the streets back towards Sylvanas’ quarters. Areiel had been hard to find and apparently half the city was in some kind of ruckus because the Dark Lady had been turning it upside down in search of something she refused to divulge, but Anya had a very distinct idea of what that might be even before Areiel had begun to shout her ears off.

The news that Jaina had already gone to see Sylvanas and that they had met Loralen put a quick stop to the ranger captain’s talking-to though, and she had listened intently to Anya’s hurried report of what they had discovered at Windrunner Spire even if it did not stop her form shaking her head at the idea of leaving for so long without notice. Intended surprise or not.

They would have to talk more about the issue, and plan. Was Loralen and those other banshees still part of the Scourge but able to act independently? Were they their own but actively choosing to avoid the Forsaken? And could they be set free, or become allies, in those cases?

But all that would be for later. Jaina and Sylvanas would have talked quite a deal by now and with just a little luck they would still be talking, and on their way to be friends with each other again.

And if they weren’t, then Anya would tie them together with a rope until they hugged and made up. Because there had to be an end to this now.

She didn’t really dare to. But she’d do it anyway. If that was what it took.

The first thing that she noticed when she silently approached Sylvanas’ part of the military quarters was that it was deserted. Why was it so? Shouldn’t there be at least some grouchy deathguard here or there?

No door was shut. As if no one cared whether they were.

Anya hurried inside.

Sylvanas was sitting slumped against the wall with the golden necklace lying in the dust on the floor in front of her. The way she stared hollowly ahead into nothing told more than enough.

No.

No.

She couldn’t. They couldn’t.

No!

Anya strode ahead and jerked Sylvanas to her feet with a tight grip of the shoulder straps of her armour.

“Where is Jaina?”

It did not take a beating heart to make your voice tremble at a time like this.

“She is gone.”

Anya slammed the Dark Lady into the wall while icy cold dread rose to grasp her still heart in its clutch.

“Gone? Gone? What…” Anya started to shake her head unconsciously in denial, defiance, warning, anything. “No, Sylvanas… No…no… What have you… WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

There was no answer. There was no need for an answer.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Anya screamed and screamed and she hammered viciously and then futilely against Sylvanas’ chest as the undeniable and inevitable fact washed away all other thoughts.

Jaina was, finally and truly, gone.

[Alwyn]

Sylvanas as fearsome when she's angry, and yet I thought I heard an echo of Lord Denethor's despair when she said "If there are still rangers here who take orders from me" - and now I'm worried about whether Jaina will survive, after what happened with Sylvanas (I'm a couple of chapters behind the latest updates).

[Dismounted Feudal Knight]

Oh the wheels come right off, you won't want to miss the later updates.