Alayne's Story: Part II

Chapter Nine: Alayne’s Recovery

Z

erith sighed and rubbed his eyes, tired of staring down at the blank parchment in front of him. “I don’t see how she did it,” he muttered, glancing over at the journal Alayne had kept until her illness rendered her incapable of maintaining it. He’d read through it, trying to get a better understanding of what had been going on. “I wish I had thought do to this long ago,” he whispered, tears springing to his eyes. “Maybe then I could have…but why couldn’t she just tell us? Who is this ‘Tal’ar’s daughter’ she speaks of? Alayne is Tal’ar’s daughter but she spoke as if she were a separate person.”

Tucking his sister’s journal gently away in the desk draw, he turned his focus back to his own. “I have to do this. I have to get it written while it’s still fresh in my mind.” Picking up the pen, dipping it in the ink jar, he held it poised over the blank page, ordering his thoughts, and then began.

From the personal journals of Zerith, a sin’dorei priest “My sister returned to us three days gone. It was a reunion I had longed for but believed impossible. I wish I could say it was a happy reunion. Piecing together what I’ve learned from Lord Lor’themar and what little the other death knights have revealed between their tears and pleas for mercy and forgiveness, I have just enough information to form a theory about what happened to them. Beginning a little over two years ago, all of them were plagued by sleepless nights and dreams. After many months of this, they were easy prey for delusions and madness, much as prisoners who are not allowed to sleep as part of their torture begin to suffer. This sleep deprivation made the victims much more open to suggestion. It made them easy prey for the Lich King’s lies. None of them were told exactly the same thing

by Arthas. Some were told that they were carriers of contagion; that if they did not flee immediately, they would contaminate everyone they loved. Others were told they had been chosen to serve the master of immortality. Still others simply fell ill…those will not speak, other than to scream that they didn’t know and to plead for forgiveness. Some of them seem to believe forgiveness is impossible. Instead, they plead for execution.

I suspect Alayne will fall into that last group though I pray she is one of the first kind.

Still, she never made any move to escape from us and she did not seem to fear contaminating us. She was also never interested in gaining immortality or power. I know that may seem incredible. A warlock not interested in gaining power? Alayne chose her path only because she cannot tap into the arcane energies after the destruction of the Sunwell. Had she been physically stronger and had her mother not been so overbearing and insistent on Alayne being a “proper elf maiden” as my sister recounts in her journal, Alayne might have chosen another path…

At any rate, Alayne returned to us. She wore the armor of a death knight, servant of the Lich King. She carried a blade which lies in pieces in her room. At first, she fought against us until Ger’alin disarmed her and removed her helm. I thought my heart would break and I would die, right then and there, when I saw her face over the blasphemous runes on her breastplate. She scrambled about for her sword and then her whole expression changed.

1

When Ger’alin had disarmed her, she’d looked like a stranger; like someone I didn’t know who just happened to closely resemble my adopted sister. When she took back up her blade…I don’t know what happened but you could see it. Alayne was returning to us. The stranger would struggle to hold on but Alayne was coming back. The stranger would scream about betrayal and abandonment; what did she mean? What lies did the Lich King tell her?

Enough digression! At the end of the battle, to save us, Alayne slew her own father.

Sylvanas thinks Arthas may have used Tal’ar to convince Alayne of whatever lies he wanted her to believe. Alayne practically worshipped her father and, from what those who knew them in days gone have said, her father loved her just as strongly. Mir’el, one of Alayne’s teachers and our land-lord, mentioned that sometimes it seemed as if father and daughter had a kindly conspiracy going to ‘drive Miris – Alayne’s mother – insane.’ He said it was a true tragedy that Tal’ar was forced into the ranks of the Scourge because, when Alayne was little, her father was the only person in the world who she could count on to truly understand her.

I’ve always known that Alayne has very strong emotions but I never realized just how strong they were until now. Perhaps that is why she sleeps still? Is it that you cannot bear the choice you were forced to make? Between your father and your friends? Do you feel torn in half, Alayne? I wish to the Light you would just open your eyes and tell me so I could help you! I am so sorry that you were ever put in that situation. I should never have gone with Callie and Ger’alin that night. If I had done that, we would still be apart, but you wouldn’t be lying there, still, cold, and pale, drifting in a sleep from which I sometimes fear you’ll never waken…”

Zerith angrily threw down the pen, not caring that ink splattered everywhere, and let his head sink into his hands. “She will wake up. She will,” he repeated again and again.

“Zerith, are you well?” Ger’alin asked softly from the door. Zerith quickly wiped his eyes and nodded, keeping his back to the other man. “I have to go,” Ger’alin continued. “I promised to resume my post as a sword instructor and my class begins soon. She’s still asleep,” he sighed, his voice tight. “She’s not moved the whole time.”

“I’ll keep an ear open for her,” Zerith whispered. “Go on to your class. Dar’ja will be back soon and I’ll go speak with Ma’iv then.” Waiting until he heard Ger’alin go down the stairs, Zerith picked up his pen and began again. “…but you will wake up. I will not give into despair. I will be as patient as I tell Ger’alin to be until you open your eyes.” ~*~*~*~ Dar’ja sighed as she finished putting flowers in the vase in Alayne’s room. The woman had been sleeping soundly – in a near-coma – since her return. Sylvanas and Lord Lor’themar had issued an official pardon to the others and had sent the signed and sealed document to Alayne along with their wishes for a speedy recovery. The priests had been by several times to check up on her. Still, she showed no signs of life. Her skin was ashen, grey, and lifeless. Her blood flowed sluggishly. Though she slept, she was not refreshed by it. Dark circles still lurked beneath her eyes.

A crash followed by fluent swearing in Thalassian jerked Dar’ja out of her thoughts.

Irritation flared through her as she walked out of the room and down the stairs to see Ger’alin staggering into the kitchen. Though his back was to her, she knew that his eyes would be bloodshot and his cheeks crimson. She could smell the liquor from where she stood.

“If you drink so much, you shouldn’t be surprised or angry when you can’t walk straight,” she growled.

“I’ve not begun to get drunk,” Ger’alin grimaced, whispering. “And who made you my mother?”

2

“Lady Liadrin would be most upset if she learned that her sword-master was turning into a sodden drunk.”

“Lady Liadrin had damned well better not hear that,” he growled, wincing. “But then, even drunk as a dwarf, I’m still a better fighter than you.”

“Would you like to test that theory?”

“And have your husband shout at me? No thanks, Dar’ja.”

“You’re just afraid I’ll beat you. I can keep it between us.”

Ger’alin stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. “No. I’ll not fight you.

Zerith would throw me out and…”

“And what?”

“Oh, just leave me alone,” he groaned, stumbling up the stairs and into his room.

Dar’ja heard the door slam. She could hear his footlocker opening as he searched for the hip flask she had found and emptied into the sink that morning. She stood still, waiting for him to come after her, ready for a fight. She found that she needed a fight. She needed some way to burn off the anger and frustration she felt every time she looked in on Alayne.

After several minutes, she realized Ger’alin must have passed out. The man could generally hold his drink well enough. Sighing and hoping that maybe Callie could snap him out of it, Dar’ja steeled herself and returned to Alayne’s room to keep the watch in case the woman finally decided to wake up. ~*~*~*~ Zerith sat at the breakfast table with his jaw clenched. He would not get involved in the argument between the two paladins at the table with him. He would not berate one for seeking solace in the bottle or the other for itching for a fight. He would be calm. He would be patient. He would exude the Light’s own compassion and mercy.

“If the two of you don’t shut the hell up,” he said, biting the words off, “I will poison your next meal.”

So much for patience, calm, and mercy.

“You’ll what?” Dar’ja asked as if she had not understood the question.

“Both of you are driving me crazy. Last night, I come home and have to help you clean out your basin because you’ve been drinking too much. Again,” he sighed at Ger’alin.

“And, if that weren’t enough, I have to listen to you have a one-way argument because you’re frustrated that Alayne won’t just wake up,” he added, staring his wife directly in the eyes.

“On top of that, I have to wake up in the morning and come downstairs to listen to you two bickering. Oh, and it’s my day to sit there in silence watching my sister sleep and I know that I’m going to have to put up with some kind of idiocy from the pair of you tonight!”

Ger’alin looked abashed and even Dar’ja seemed to know that she’d pushed her husband too far. “It’s only been a few days,” Zerith continued. “She was shot through the chest with a pile-arrow with Light-only-knows what kind of poison on it. She was also fairly weak to begin with. She’s little more than skin and bones now. Just surviving the healing from that took a lot out of her. It’s only been a few days and it’s much, much, much too soon to start panicking,” he glared at Dar’ja, “or despairing,” he said, looking pointedly at Ger’alin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” he said, rising from his seat, his breakfast uneaten.

He stalked up the stairs, opened the door to her room, and then let it slam behind him. Sitting down in the chair they’d dragged into her room, he pulled it closer to the bed. Lifting the sheets and untying the robe, he examined the bandages and the wound that matched the one he had borne on his own chest. It was healing well. It no longer bled at all. But still, her skin was cold and clammy. Her breath shallow and swift as if she labored to keep drawing air in

3

and letting it back out. He closed her robes and pulled the sheets back over her, tucking them in around her. Then, sighing, he leaned close to her ear.

“Wake up, Alayne,” he whispered to his sister. “I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out.” ~*~*~*~ “I think I found something you misplaced,” Ber’lon grinned when he dragged Ger’alin home a few evenings later.

“Thank you,” Callie sighed, taking the Blood Knight by the other arm and helping him to stagger into the house. “Luckily, Zerith and Dar’ja are both out right now. Could you help me get him up to his room so he can sleep it off?” Ber’lon nodded and helped the Forsaken carry the drunken paladin up the stairs. He paused at the first door and gasped.

“She’s back? Oh, she’s asleep,” he muttered.

“Ish ma fault,” Ger’alin gibbered. “I never shoulda taught her sha shward.”

“It’s not your fault, Gerry,” Callie sighed. “It’s not anyone’s fault but Arthas.”

“If I hadn’ta taught her, she wouldn’ta killed her father and she’d be ‘wake.”

“Ger’alin,” Callie said as they let him drop onto his bed.

“Yesh?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she slammed the door shut. She winced and bit her tongue when she heard him start sobbing and berating himself drunkenly. In all the months they’d been together, she’d never yet figured how to deal with him when he got in one of these black moods. She’d have to make doubly certain she kept her eye on him. It wouldn’t do at all to have a repeat of what happened the one time she gave up and stormed out to hunt raptors in Stranglethorn… “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” she said politely to the death knight.

“I just wish I’d known he was drunk before I bought him a round and asked after his expedition,” Ber’lon sighed. “He can put away an amazing amount of liquor. I think I see why, at least,” he muttered, walking into Alayne’s room. “So, she finally came back.”

“Yes, she did. She came back with the others. Took an arrow right through the chest and killed her father. Long story. Look, I…” “Her father?”

“A Scourge ranger.”

“That was her father? I wondered why she was always with him in Northrend. It’s not like we really talked much, though. None of us really spoke to any of the others unless we absolutely had to. Still, she wouldn’t even answer to her own name the night I decided to leave for good. I tried to speak with her, but she didn’t seem to recognize me. How long has she been asleep?”

“Five days,” Callie sighed. Ber’lon glanced around, his eyes falling on the broken blade. “What?” she asked, seeing the expression on his face change. He ignored her and bent down, gathering the shards up and holding them gingerly, as if it pained him to do so.

“This sword,” he muttered. “She freed herself from it.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“We bound ourselves to our blades, Forsaken. Part of our souls is forever locked into the steel and ice. However, Alayne’s has gone. Whether that is good or bad, I cannot say.”

Standing up, he placed a hand on the woman’s forehead, nodding to himself. “She wrestles with it in her sleep,” he whispered, recalling his own tumultuous dreams as he broke free under the careful watch of the taunka. “Keep an eye on her,” he ordered Callie. “When she awakens, she will need help. It is something we all go through when the fire of passion we banked and smothered returns to the blood. She will need to remember and be reminded of why life is important.”

4

“What are you talking about?” Callie demanded, confused. “Did you just do something? Will she wake up now?”

“I have done nothing,” Ber’lon replied. “But, I have lived through this myself. Tell Zerith what I said. When he sees, he will understand.”

“When he sees what?” Callie said, tiring of the cryptic tone. Ber’lon said nothing but turned and walked away, seeing himself out of the house. “Well, that certainly was weird,” she muttered to the sleeping sin’dorei. “Not that you care, Ysera-in-training. Looks like I’m going to have quite an evening. I get to keep an eye on you, not that that’s any trouble, while making certain Ger’alin doesn’t manage to get into any trouble, which he shouldn’t if he just goes ahead and passes out. The only thing wrong with him is you. I wish I knew what your problem was, though,” she sighed, putting a hand on Alayne’s forehead. She jerked it away when the heat pouring out of the sleeping woman registered. Hurrying back down the hallway, she threw open the door to Ger’alin’s room and spoke quickly in short, choppy sentences. “Sober up. Going to find Zerith or Ma’iv. She’s got a fever. Hot. Watch her!”

Without giving the man a chance to ask questions, Callie dashed out of the house.

Ger’alin rubbed a hand over his face, sober as a bishop giving a sermon, and hurried down to Alayne’s room. Pausing only to wet a cloth and drape it over her reddening forehead, he sat, watching her with haunted, hooded eyes. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the bandages, checking her chest wound for any sign of infection. Yelling at himself silently when he found nothing, he sat down, retied her robes, and took one of her hands into his own.

Her hands were no longer icy and chill. Indeed, they were flushed with the same sudden fever that coursed through her blood. Praying that, one way or another, the end was near, he settled in to watch and wait, not daring to let himself feel hope. ~*~*~*~ “I’m so tired,” the woman sighed, sitting down by the spring. “Why am I so tired?”

“Because you have foresworn your oaths,” a man’s deep voice said sadly. “Because you have killed your father. Because your spirit was broken in the end.”

“Who are…? Arthas?”

“No,” the voice said. “I am not the traitor prince. He sits atop Icecrown, brooding over the loss of his gamble. Still, he reaches out, finding those driven to despair who will serve without the need for insanity. And those of you who were infected, who fell prey to him…one by one, you are breaking free. But there is a price to breaking your bond to him.

There is a cost to letting life’s warmth flow through your veins once more. He is never one to let go of a hold he has gained without a fight.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My child, you have suffered long from an illness that was killing you by inches even as it broke your mind. Did you think that you would be free of it just by willing it so? That is only the first step. Now you must follow the road or die trying.”

“Who are you?”

“One who has an interest in redemption. Sleep now. Dream of a better world than the one to which you will awaken. Gather your strength, child, for you will need it in the days to come.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith and Dar’ja hurried up the stairs when they heard Ma’iv’s voice coming from Alayne’s room. The healer was muttering to himself in irritation as the potion he’d been trying to feed the woman dribbled out of the corner of her mouth. Turning her head to let the 5

rest fall out so she wouldn’t drown herself, Ma’iv renewed the cold cloth on her forehead and told Ger’alin to bring more water and cloths.

“Ma’iv, what’s going on here?” Zerith asked when Ger’alin rushed past him.

“Mostly getting him out of the room before he does himself an injury,” the healer sighed. “It’s nothing serious. She’s running a fever. That’s not surprising. It’s a good sign.”

“How is a fever a good sign? Light, she’s as red as a strawberry!”

“It’s a good sign,” Ma’iv repeated. “The ones that the others dragged back all went through something like this. They spoke of a gentle voice helping them, guiding them, while Arthas made one last attempt to hold on to them or, failing that, to kill them. Don’t you recall treating them? And then there’s that young man who’s been by a few times – Ber’lon. He says this is a normal part of the recovery process.”

“I still haven’t quite grasped the concept that they were telling the truth,” Zerith admitted. “I thought they were insane.”

“I know. I only listened to you say that a few thousand times,” Ma’iv grinned. “You know what to expect now. Keep an eye on her as best you can. Try to get her to drink something but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t. Either she’ll wake up after she’s recovered from the fever or…”

“I know,” Zerith sighed. “We’ll pray. That’s all we can do now.”

“Light send your prayers are granted, my son,” Ma’iv said as he patted Zerith on the shoulder in farewell. “Send word to me if you have need of me later. Oh, and try to calm that other young man down. Between the alcohol and her fever, he’s a tad…distraught.”

“I’ll worry about him, Zerith,” Callie said, startling the pair. They had forgotten her since she sat so quietly at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know whether to let him hope or keep him in the dark,” she sighed to herself as she watched Ger’alin tear apart Dar’ja’s linen closet. Still, watching the paladin’s frantic activity relieved her. This was the first time she’d seen Ger’alin show signs of life and an acceptance of reality since the day he’d been told Alayne was dead. Watching him paw through the linens and towels, muttering beneath his breath and cursing his pounding head while swearing never to touch a drop of liquor again made her remember the times that she had watched him watch the woman upstairs. Settling down to make certain he did himself no injury, Callie added her own prayers to the watchful spirits, hoping that it would work out in the end. ~*~*~*~ “What is going on here?” Alayne demanded as a rush of visions assaulted her.

“You swore to serve me. You will serve either alive or dead.”

“I will not! I am free of you!” she shouted. “I am free of your lies and your tricks!”

“Locked within you forever is my power. You are mine!”

“I am not! I will not be! Your taint will no longer twist me, traitor!”

“Then see what fate awaits you as you struggle against the ties that hold you to me!”

Alayne staggered, clutching her head, as she saw her people tearing themselves apart, brothers turning on sisters, wives against husbands, fighting in the streets of Silvermoon while something dark and foreboding loomed high over the city from the Sunwell Plateau.

She saw the verdant green forests of Eversong burning, even the Scourge fleeing the horror arising in the city. Lying dead, their bodies broken as if they had been stomped on by some titanic being, she saw her friends, their blank eyes accusing her, demanding to know why she had abandoned them to this fate when it had been within her power to save them. Through it all, the Lich King hammered at her, demanding that she return to him, insisting that only by serving him could she avert this fate.

6

“Arthas, I will not!” she screamed. “I cannot save them by serving you! I will not do that any longer!”

Deep inside her heart, she could hear the part of herself that had locked her away in the blade screaming at her. She fought to ignore it, to master it, but the shrieking, the accusations, and the near-mindless fear almost overwhelmed her. Locking the part of herself that called herself ‘Tal’ar’s daughter’ away, Alayne struggled to remain calm and to reason through the visions she had seen. “Even if he speaks the truth,” she muttered, “I will not serve him. I will not be his slave any longer.”

“No, child, you will not,” silvery chimes rang out. “Your fate is your own to decide.”

Alayne sighed in relief as the assault ended and, closing her eyes, felt the last ties holding her to the Lich King fall away as she drifted back off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and placed another cloth on Alayne’s forehead. It lost its coolness almost immediately. Leaving it for the moment, he took another and lathed her face, neck, arms, and hands, listening to her broken mutterings as she raved. The only things he understood were “Arthas” and “will not.” Tears sprang to his eyes when she began whispering for her father. “I wish I could do more to help you,” he sighed as he refreshed the cloth on her forehead and sat down on the stool next to her bed.

By the time Ger’alin poked his head into the room to check on them both around dawn, Zerith was sound asleep and Alayne lay quiet, soaked in sweat. Her face was calm, pale, and cool. Ger’alin tiptoed over to the bed, disbelieving what his eyes saw. Alayne looked almost normal again. All that kept him from shouting with joy and taking her up in his arms was Zerith laying there, sleeping peacefully. Walking quietly back to his own room, the paladin prayed that, with this deadly corner turned, Alayne would be up and about in no time.

He had so much to tell her…so many questions to ask her…especially the one that had haunted him since he’d heard that she was dead.

“Please Light,” he prayed, gazing up at the heavens through his window, “let me be worthy of her.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sighed and tapped his foot against the floor impatiently while he listened to Callie talk to Alayne. Today was the tenth day since she’d returned and the second since her fever broke. Still, she showed no sign of awakening. It was driving him mad to sit there, day after day, watching her sleep. At least the fever had brought a flush of life to her face. Now, she just lay there, wan, pale... “I can’t do this again,” he growled. “Callie, I’m going on to my class. I’ll be back tonight,” he said in a louder tone.

“Don’t be too late,” the Forsaken replied. “I’m not dragging you out of a bar again tonight. Three drinks maximum, Gerry, or I’m going to tell Zerith everything!”

“Fine, fine. Three drinks maximum. I’ll be back in time for supper.”

“That reminds me; bring something back with you. Zerith got called out this morning before dawn to attend a birth and Dar’ja’s going to be worn out from escorting that shipment back to Undercity. Of course, maybe Alayne will wake up this afternoon and she’ll whip up one of her gourmet specialties.”

“Don’t remind me of that! Do you know how much I’ve prayed that…”

“I’m sorry, Gerry,” Callie said sincerely, opening the door. “Just don’t give up hope.

She’s here, she’s alive…she’ll wake up. It just might take time.”

7

“I’ll be back for supper,” he said tightly. Callie raised her hands in surrender and watched him go. Once he was out of the house, she glanced back over at the sleeping woman, holding her breath. Had Alayne’s eyes just fluttered? Sighing when nothing happened after staring long enough that her own eyes burned, Callie walked back down the stairs and settled onto the couch, picking up one of Dar’ja’s books, and losing herself in the pages while she waited for something, anything, to happen. ~*~*~*~ “It is time, child. You’ve rested enough. You’ve overcome him completely, at long last. Wake now, and begin the next chapter of your journey.”

8

Chapter Ten: Awakening

A

layne opened her eyes and immediately closed them again. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for this,” she whispered to herself, opening her eyes just a crack. Deciding that closing them would not help to break this particular delusion, she stared at the ceiling until her vision blurred, unable to figure out how she had returned to her old room in Zerith and Dar’ja’s home. “This is too good to be real.

This has to be a dream,” she whispered, taking hold of the rising joy welling within her.

Squelching it with an iron fist, she flung the sheets away and sat up, letting her legs swing over the side of the bed and her feet hover a few inches above the floor. Sliding forward, she put her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands.

“This is absolute madness,” she muttered, lifting her head and glancing around the room again. “Any moment now it will all change; it will be as it should be. As it must be.”

Something in the corner of her vision caught her attention. Standing up, taking a moment to catch her balance on wobbly legs, she walked across the room. Her breastplate lay against the closet door, a hole from a pile-arrow punched through it. Her runeblade lay in shattered pieces next to the skull-and-rune adorned armor. “So, that wasn’t a dream,” she gasped, her legs giving way. She fell to the floor, shaking. Closing her eyes, she waited, listening for the voice of the man she’d called ‘Master’ for the endless months that she’d spent in Northrend. Hearing nothing, she shuddered with relief. “I am free,” she said quietly, stunned to be alone in her own mind once more. “I’m free.”

Her shock vanished as she recalled that last battle. She had stood against her friends; against the two men she cared about most this side of life. “Light of heaven,” she whispered, “did I…did I actually kill my father?” Rubbing her throbbing temples, she forced herself to remember that hectic fight.

She’d felt Arthas’s control over her waning as her divided loyalties shifted away from him and back towards Zerith, Dar’ja, Callie, “…and Ger’alin,” she whispered, shivering.

Finally, she’d been able to regain control of her mind long enough to protect them from the very attack she’d been part of. But the cost… her mind shied away from the thought of what she had done to save the very people she’d endangered. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to face that relentlessly. Giving herself no excuse to hide behind, no quarter, she faced what she had done.

“I abandoned everyone I cared about,” she told herself, “I threw away all of their love and friendship to chase after madness because I was a coward. I wanted them to always think of me as that sweet little elf maiden that I had been when I first came back to Eversong. I didn’t want them to see the real me; the warlock who could roast an entire city because she was in a bad mood. The woman who could gut a man and cut him into scraps for touching her. I didn’t want them to see that anymore than I wanted them to see the woman who could grit her teeth and smile at the man who had just pinched her rump if it got her a tip so she could pay the rent; I wanted to shield them from part of who I am. I wanted to hide myself from what I am,” she forced herself to admit. “I lied to everyone and to myself and, by doing so, handed myself over to Arthas like a Winter Veil present.

So, what am I to do now?” she asked herself. Lifting her head, she propped her chin on her fist and considered her options. She could stay and try to make up for everything she’d 9

done. “No, that’s just another way of hiding,” she said, discarding the easiest and most desirable option. She could surrender herself to the sin’dorei government and be executed.

“That would be just,” she sighed, “but still too easy.”

And what if he’d been right? What if they really were the cause of her madness?

“No,” she muttered. “He lies and lies and even when he tells the truth, it’s a lie,” she said.

“Even if they did draw strength from me, I would give it to them willingly, without struggle.”

So…what was she to do?

Exile. Self-imposed exile from Zerith, Dar’ja, Callie, and Ger’alin. She would leave tonight, under the cover of darkness. She’d take only a change of clothes. Everything else, she would leave behind with a note explaining that they were to sell it all and keep the money against the debt she had surely incurred. Any money she gained while off, she would arrange to have sent back to them. She could never repay them for all of the pain she had caused, but she would make the gesture nonetheless.

Letting her head drop back into her hands, she tried to ignore the sobs that stuck in her throat. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin settled in behind the bar, waving to the bartender and waiting impatiently for his drink. He’d become something of a fixture at the bar since returning from Undercity. It was the one place – other than working the forms – where he could forget everything for a little while. Forget how still and quietly she lay in the bed, like one waiting patiently for the grim touch of death. Since the fever had broken, she did not respond to anything; not their attempts to heal her, not his shouts and pleas for her to open her eyes. He’d even once thought of kissing her, reminded of the old human fairy story about the sleeping princess.

Grunting, he put it out of his mind. He’d come here to forget – as much as he could – not to pick at a wound that he feared beyond healing.

The bartender set his usual drink in front of him and left. Ger’alin grunted as he slammed it back, feeling the welcome, numbing burn of alcohol as it sent tendrils of warm forgetfulness through his body. When the bartender set a second in front of him, he tossed it back without thought, and began to smile. A sight on the other side of the room took his breath away. Standing up, feeling a joyful, silly grin split his face, the Blood Knight sauntered over to the table. “Well, when did you wake up?” he asked.

“This morning,” the woman who looked almost exactly like Alayne muttered dryly.

Ger’alin blushed in humiliation and turned to walk away. “Fancy meeting you here. It almost reminds me of the first time we met,” she called out after him. “Is this where you pick up your other victims?”

“Oh, Ta’sia,” he groaned, recognizing the voice. She was easily the last person he ever wanted to see again. It would be bad enough were she a decent sort but… “Look, I apologized for overreacting already.”

“Well, if you want to try again, maybe you could get her name right this time,” her friend A’sara giggled. Ger’alin shook his head as if to clear it and continued on his way out of the bar.

“I wish you wouldn’t bring that up,” Ta’sia grimaced after Ger’alin left. “It’s embarrassing.”

“That’s exactly why I bring it up,” A’sara laughed. “You thought you had him wrapped around your finger! You told me that you’d have him following you around like a lost puppy. And, after all, he is rather handsome. Not to mention strong and...nimble. And he couldn’t even remember your name! You say you can get any man you want but that one,” she pointed to Ger’alin, “that one is one you’ll never be able to hold on to.”

10

“I wouldn’t say that so quickly,” the elven woman muttered. “I’ll make you eat your words,” she whispered beneath her breath. “A man I won’t be able to hold on to until I tire of him? He’s not been born yet…” ~*~*~*~ “I’m going up to check on her,” Callie announced as she tossed her napkin onto her plate. “I thought I saw her eyelids moving earlier.” The other three stared at her as they did every evening when she made this announcement. Ger’alin looked slightly glassy-eyed from stopping off at the bar on his way home. He buried his face in his hands, tired of getting his hopes up every evening, only to have them dashed. Zerith just looked worn out; he’d been up all last night and most of the day helping with a difficult birth.

“I’d better come with you,” Dar’ja said as she hastily swallowed the last bit of bread.

“Awake or not, that room needs to be freshened. Zerith, you and Ger’alin take care of the dishes,” she said.

Leaving the two men behind, the women climbed up the stairs and opened the door to Alayne’s room. “Alayne, you’re…” Callie started to say, “why are you crying?” she asked in confusion.

The elven woman lifted her head and quickly dashed away the last tears falling from her eyes. Steeling her face and squaring her shoulders, she stood up, not letting herself see or feel the warming welcome in her former friends’ eyes. “I thank you for your hospitality and your healing,” the warlock said formally, distantly, “and I apologize for any trouble I have caused you throughout the duration of my illness. The armor and sword will fetch a fair price at market; they were constructed of some of the finest – and rarest – components. Indeed, I doubt that the metal making them can be found anywhere but Northrend.”

“Alayne, who cares about any of that?” Dar’ja asked, her hand clutching her throat in horror at the other sin’dorei’s words and tone. “All that matters is that you’re well again.

Zerith will be delighted. Ger’alin might just fly into the sky. Let me run and go get them.”

The warlock stopped her by grabbing her arm firmly. Continuing as if she had not been interrupted, she said, “They will fetch a fair price. I will take only a change of clothes when I leave; you may sell everything else that once was mine. Keep the gold. I know that I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me, but I will make this poor attempt nonetheless. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I will change and be out of your home within the quarter-hour.” The two elven women stood staring at each other for a long moment. Alayne’s gaze was icy and determined. Dar’ja returned it with a heated stare of her own. Callie, uncertain what was wrong with the warlock, turned to leave. Alayne reached out to catch hold of her as well but Dar’ja blocked her, shoving the other elf woman away and kicking the door shut. Slamming the lock down, she shoved Alayne away when the other woman moved to stop her. With an angry grunt, Dar’ja kicked the heavy footlocker in front of the door, preventing it from being opened from the outside.

“Enough of this,” Dar’ja growled.

“Indeed,” Alayne said icily, moving towards the closet. “As I said; I will be out of your house within the quarter-hour.”

“Going to run back to Northrend, to Arthas, are we?” Dar’ja spat.

“No,” Alayne said slowly, hurt that anyone would think she would do that. “Where I go is not anything you need concern yourself with. I’ve been enough of a bother to you; let me leave and you need never deal with me again.”

“A bother? Alayne, the only place you’re going if you’re talking like that is to the sanitarium. What, do you think we believe you joined the Scourge of your own free will?”

“I did what I did, Dar’ja. I make no excuses for it.”

11

“You did it because you were mad as a spring hare. You probably didn’t even know what you were doing. Ber’lon says…”

“He’s here, too?”

“No, but he ran into Ger’alin and Callie and told them about what was really happening. Do you know that Ger’alin was planning to go to Northrend to rescue you?”

“I didn’t need rescuing, Dar’ja. I chose the path I walked; I’ve unchosen it now but that does not excuse anything I did. I surrendered to the Scourge because…no,” she said, more to herself than to Dar’ja, “no excuses! I joined the Scourge; I fought alongside them. I submerged my will to that of the Lich King. I would have done anything at his command.

Anything, Dar’ja, anything. I let him use me; let him twist me. I let him do it!”

“You weren’t in your right mind!” Dar’ja screamed. “You were sick, Alayne. You had forgotten just about everything you ever knew from that Plague!”

“I still did it, Dar’ja!” Alayne shouted back. “I would have killed all of you!”

Ignoring the other woman, Dar’ja walked over and picked up the water pitcher from its basin. Hefting it, she threw it so that it crashed against the wall behind Alayne. “That’s a lie!” she screamed in exasperation. “That’s a lie and you know it, Alayne! If it were true, you’d have killed Ger’alin, and then Zerith, and then me and Callie the night of the attack against Undercity! Instead, you turned on the Scourge and you even killed your own father!

That’s the truth, little sister. You could never willingly hurt any one of us and you damned well know it!” Lifting the basin, she hurled it against the wall, making Alayne start in fright.

“If you won’t start listening to reason, I’ll keep smashing things until you do!”

Alayne resolutely ignored the other woman, calmly and mechanically undressing and redressing in a set of old robes. She grimaced at how loosely they hung on her. Belting the sash about her waist, she reached into the closet to pull out a cloak to throw over her shoulders. Dar’ja blocked her, standing as firmly as a stubborn dwarf.

“Let me pass,” Alayne demanded.

“No,” Dar’ja replied in the same tone.

“Have you forgotten what I’m capable of, Dar’ja?” Alayne asked acerbically, turning her back on the other woman. “Do you not recall what I did at Stromgarde? Or in Desolace? I am quite capable of tearing you to pieces and burning this house – and all its occupants – to a cinder! Now, let me pass!”

“Do it, then,” Dar’ja challenged. “Go ahead. I won’t try to stop you. Kill me, kill Zerith, Callie, and Ger’alin. Come on, Alayne. I’m waiting.”

“Don’t tempt me,” the other woman groaned, forcing the words around the lump forming in her throat. “You’ll all be happier when I’m gone so let me pass.”

“Happier? Alayne, I don’t think you could have called any of the four of us ‘happy’ since we thought you had died. Zerith moped around for months, refusing to leave the house!

Ger’alin and Callie ran off; they couldn’t bear to be around so many memories of you. If you want us to be happy, you’ll have to stay and explain what happened to you!”

“You thought I was dead?” Alayne said calmly. Dar’ja grimaced at the tone, wishing that Alayne would turn around so she could see the warlock’s face. “Why did you think I was dead?”

Dar’ja opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the door being kicked off its hinges. Zerith, Callie, and Ger’alin stood in the hallway, all three trying to cram themselves through the narrow frame at the same time.

“What’s this about you leaving?” Zerith asked quickly.

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Ger’alin said.

“You’re not going anywhere, period,” Zerith added. “Not for a long, long time. We’ve been wishing and praying for this day for too long, never daring to believe it could happen.”

12

Alayne bit her lip and closed her eyes, grateful they could not see her face. Choking back the treasonous tears that burned in her eyes and clogged her throat, she tried desperately to summon back the steel and ice that had surrounded her earlier.

“I,” she said, a sob escaping her throat, “I…oh Light,” she gasped, turning to look at them, “you thought I was dead? I…forgive me!” she said hopelessly, praying for something she didn’t believe she could receive.

There was a mad scramble in the room as everyone tried to embrace everyone else.

After long moments, once everyone had calmed down, Zerith turned to Alayne, hugging her warmly as if a prodigal had returned. “So, what’s this about leaving?” ~*~*~*~ “Why the sudden interest in eating outdoors?” Alayne asked Zerith as the pair of them set out a blanket in the front yard. It had been a week since she’d awoken and the first day she’d felt strong enough to venture out of the house. That morning, Zerith had greeted her downstairs in the kitchen with a simple question: “How much bread do I need to buy for sandwiches? Ger’alin suggested three loaves. He says you can make a lot of sandwiches.”

Settling down on the blanket, Alayne grinned at her brother as he tried to set the glasses on the uneven ground. “Have you really never done this, Zerith?” she teased, reaching over and taking them from him to set them on the flattened rock she’d moved over from the garden. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Ger’alin told me about the picnic the two of you had. I remember you telling me about all the good times you had at picnics with your father. Excuse me if I wouldn’t mind sharing in the fun,” he retorted, laughing. “Besides, I’ve had enough of the house for now.

I’m sure you have as well.”

“Well, let’s make sure to keep our distance so that others won’t mistake this for a romantic picnic,” she quipped. “After all, that is one of the chief pass-times of people our age these days.”

“So what if they get the wrong idea? That’s their problem. Not mine. Besides, you know that Dar’ja lets me keep a harem. After all, why else are you and Callie both sleeping under my roof?”

“Better not let Callie hear you say that,” Alayne laughed. “You’ll just give her ideas.

If you wake up and she and Dar’ja have switched places, I will not be held responsible for it.”

“Note to self: lock the door and the window tonight.”

“So…what is the occasion?” she asked, sitting down and opening the basket he’d prepared.

“Can’t I just want to spend some time with my sister?” he chuckled. “Do I always have to have some ulterior motive?”

“Yes, you do,” she said slyly. “If this is how you tell me that you want me to watch the little one you are inevitably expecting, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble. I can set Azyal, the imp, to mind the wee-one.”

“I swear, you and Ger’alin both…this has nothing to do with any little sin’dorei – who by the way, are not in the picture yet. I missed you,” he said, turning serious. “It’s been so long since it was just you and me. I want to just have the afternoon with just the two of us.

That’s why Dar’ja dragged Ger’alin out of the house and Callie has gone to depopulate the rivers and lakes. It’s been over a year since I had the chance to just sit down with you and just talk. I miss our old conversations, our old jokes.”

“Well…what do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. We could talk about why the sky is blue if you want.”

13

“…Or I could tell you what it is you no doubt want to know but are being too nice to ask me. What I couldn’t tell you before I…went away, why I stayed away, and why I’m back.”

“Or that,” he agreed.

“Look, if you get angry with me at any point, just throw something at me. I’ll understand,” she sighed. Passing him a sandwich from the basket, she pulled her knees up to her chest, rested her chin on them, and began to unravel her tale. “You know I was having bad dreams and nightmares. I was dreaming of Arthas. He was calling for me almost from the minute I came back to Quel’Thalas. I guess my father must have had something to do with it,” she said glumly. “Has anyone ever told you about what I did at Stromgarde?”

“The first or second time you torched the place?” he smiled.

“So, you know,” she said simply. “After you were shot, I just…went berserk. I wanted to kill every last one of them and hurt them as much as they’d hurt you; as much as they’d hurt me. I was so frightened, then. Up to that point, it had been a game, really. A few brave adventurers out to save the world like in the stories my father used to tell me when I was a child. Then, you were hurt and…I saw a side of myself that I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want you to see it either. I thought you would be as scared and horrified by it as I was.

Mother always hated that part of me as well. I figured…it was normal to hate someone who was like that. It…frightened me, the thought of you turning away from me.”

“Have I ever told you about what I did when Valara passed away?” he asked, studying Alayne’s face carefully. “No, I didn’t. I wish to the Light I had before now. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt so alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“About seeing that side of ourselves that none of us like,” he replied. “Our darker side. I suspected you might have gone through that but was too distracted by meeting Dar’ja and then going to Desolace to stop to realize it.”

“Nothing that happened to me or that I did was your fault, Zerith.”

“I’m not saying it was. I’m saying that you shouldn’t have had to face it alone any more than Ger’alin had to or Dar’ja’s had to.”

“Well, let me finish,” Alayne said gently, scooting closer to her brother and leaning her head on his shoulder. He put an arm around her and watched her from the corner of his eyes, waiting for her to continue. “After that, after you were shot, I started hearing voices in my head. Not the normal one that says things like ‘okay, now I’m going downstairs to get something to drink and then I think I’ll go sit in the sun and read for a while.’ But one that argued with me, that terrified me because it was me; another me. She called herself Tal’ar’s daughter and she was. She was the part of me that Mother never liked or understood. The one that was a real tomboy; always in trouble and always getting into rousing fist-fights with the other kids. She was the part of me that wanted to protect and defend everyone from everything, up to and including myself.”

“Why didn’t you…”

“Say something? I tried to. I tried so many times to tell you. I couldn’t; she wouldn’t let me. Or I wouldn’t let me. I don’t know how to explain it, Zerith. It was like having another person living inside of me, able to control my body. Whenever I would try to tell you, she would slam my mouth shut and berate me, calling me weak and sniveling for wanting to bother you with my ‘little’ troubles.”

“I wish to the Light I had known…”

“I wish I could have told you before now. I wanted to. Light, how many times I struggled with her, begging and pleading with her to let me say something. I could see how worried you were; how scared for me you were but I couldn’t overcome her.”

14

“Alayne, stop,” he said, shrugging her off his shoulder and turning so he could look her directly in the eyes. “What you’re describing…I’ve heard of it before. I’m so sorry it ever happened to you.”

“Is it an illness?” she asked, looking confused.

“Not exactly. All I know is that Ma’iv has treated people who describe what you’re describing. He says that only time, introspection, and acceptance of both sides of yourself will bring true healing. Anything else is just a delay. You may be normal for a while but eventually…eventually you’ll split again. And, each time it happens, it’s harder to get back to normal than before. Maybe you should go talk to someone who knows more about this than me. Ma’iv’s got more experience with this than I do.”

“So, I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” she said, looking dejected.

“Yes, you are,” he admitted simply, “but I don’t want you to stop talking to me. I just want you to go and talk to someone who can help you better than I can.”

“Okay…well, to continue, then,” she sighed, keeping her focus on his face and looking for signs that he didn’t want her to go on. His expression was open, honest, and nonjudging. “To continue; the fighting with her just got worse and worse. I couldn’t concentrate well. I couldn’t do much of anything well because she was always there, nagging at me. On top of that, the dreams and visions from Arthas continued. Then, one night, Ber’lon showed up. We’d been called, you see, called to go to him. I had to go. He said he would heal me. I wanted to be healed; I wanted to be well so that you wouldn’t be so frightened of me. I needed it; I needed to feel like I could protect you. Ach, it still confuses me,” she said, lifting a hand and rubbing her forehead. “So many things that made sense that don’t. Well, I answered his call. And, he did heal me. I came back to myself in Northrend. Then…then he told me that you were the cause of my illness. That you and everyone else had been draining my life away to feed your arcane addictions. At first, I didn’t believe him. I told myself that you and the rest would come for me. You had in Desolace. Then, the months passed and no one came. The Lich King kept telling me, over and over again, that the reason you wouldn’t come is because I was of no use to you; that you had gotten what you wanted and thrown me away. Slowly, I came to believe it. I don’t know why. My father would tell me the same things. Everyone said it. They said it so often that, one day, it just became the truth.”

“They told us you were dead,” Zerith said, forcing the words around the lump forming in his throat. “If I had ever suspected they were lying, I’d have been on the first ship to Northrend right along with Ger’alin. You know, he had planned an expedition to go rescue you once he found out that we’d been lied to. I almost didn’t believe him. I thought he was out of his mind, delusional.”

“Ger’alin? That man doesn’t get ‘delusional’ unless you ply him with liquor.”

“Oh, he changed after you vanished. Those were some of the darkest days I’ve ever seen from him. When they said you were dead…I think something in him died that day and only came back when you woke up here.”

“Hmph,” she sighed, shaking her head. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“It was rather out-of-character, but then, I think he cares for you like I do. One of these days, we’ll have to drag out of him if you remind him of a little sister or not,” he teased.

“I’m everyone’s sister,” she grinned, letting the somber mood dispel. “Well, enough from me for now. I want to hear you talk. My voice is getting all scratchy from rambling on.”

“I think I’ll tell you something almost as shocking as what you’ve told me. No, Alayne, she’s not pregnant,” he laughed, seeing the look in his sister’s eyes. “Back to what I was saying earlier about dark sides and dark days; I’ve never told you why I feel the way I do towards you.”

“Because I remind you of Valara,” Alayne prompted. “You’ve told me that several times.”

15

“When I saw you for the first time,” he said, ignoring her interruption, “I thought that the Light had given me Valara back. That I would have the chance to make up for my failures with her and my other sisters. That was why I staring at you. Ber’lon accused me of having a crush on you, one time. No, I didn’t,” he snorted, seeing her start to laugh. “Not that you aren’t attractive and that you lack anything in that sense; you just aren’t my type.”

“I’d better not be. Dar’ja would get really mad and I would rather she not smash the rest of the stuff in my room.”

“Well, I saw in you the chance to set things right for myself. See, before I came back here, I’d lived with other survivors from the villages in what is now Ghostlands. We lived in the Hinterlands, near the Wildhammer dwarves. Well, while we were there, my sisters began to fall ill. Part of it was the loss of the Sunwell and no way to replace it. My sisters were all of the more magical bent. Father and I were priests. So, they took it harder than we did. I tried everything to make them feel better and nothing worked. Over time, they just…gave up.

Valara, my youngest sister, was the last to go. She just stopped. She stopped eating. She stopped getting out of bed. She stopped speaking. I did everything I could to make her well; she was all I had left at that time. But…she died. My mother and father passed on not long after. Father was killed by the trolls and Mother…Mother just gave up. I felt so alone. All of the others just told me that the Light would bring healing and offered their sympathies. I didn’t want it, though. I wanted revenge. You look surprised.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be.”

“Like I said; we all have our darker sides. Mine was that, after Valara died and before Prince Kael’thas sent word of his teachings to us, I…well, the trolls attacked again; raiding our settlement. Valara wasn’t even cold in the ground yet and they attacked. I went out to try to help with healing our fighters but that wasn’t enough for me. That day, instead of reaching out to the Light, I grabbed for the Shadow, for the darkness, and I hurled it at our attackers. I could feel them, feel the blood boiling in their veins. They screamed…agonizing screams and I kept on, flaying them, striking at them… Even after they were dead, I kept on, not stopping until there wasn’t even anything left to drag away. After that, no one would speak to me. I felt like the Light was abandoning me; it had let everyone but me die and it wouldn’t even protect our people. I had just about decided to abandon my calling when Prince Kael’thas messengers arrived. I came back here, thinking that maybe people here would understand.

That they wouldn’t be horrified if I took a darker path. After all, weren’t we allied with the Forsaken? I was thinking of all this and then, I looked up, and there you were. I told myself that if I could just follow you, if I could help you, then the Light hadn’t abandoned me. That it had given me the chance to make up for everything I’d done in the past weeks. And, it did.

That’s why I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me or feel that you have to hide anything from me. I know you have a dark side, Alayne. The thing is, I also know that you have a side that outshines the sun.”

Zerith grunted when he hit the ground. Alayne had tackled him in a bear hug and wasn’t letting go. Smiling, feeling happier than he had in long months, he reached up and squeezed her just as hard as she was squeezing him, overjoyed to finally be reunited with his sister. There would be more to come, he knew, but for now, it was enough. ~*~*~*~ Callie, Dar’ja, and Alayne quickly fell back into their old patterns. Alayne, still too weak and wobbly to heft a sword, sat on the sidelines in the backyard and watched the pair wrestle with each other. After a while, Dar’ja pleaded weariness and sank down on the ground next to Alayne.

16

“You’re getting better,” Callie said, squatting down next to the paladin, “but you still have room for improvement.”

“She’s doing better than I will,” Alayne murmured. “I still can barely make it up the stairs without getting out of breath.”

“Tell me something, Alayne,” Callie asked cautiously. The warlock nodded. “Why you?”

“Why me what?”

“Why did you fall ill? And not, say, most of the Forsaken? I’ve never been able to figure that out.”

“I don’t know,” Alayne admitted. “I’ve just been assuming it was some kind of disease we caught that made us susceptible to his influence.”

“That’s what the healers think as well,” Dar’ja pointed out.

“Then why would any Forsaken catch it? That’s the flaw in that theory,” Callie replied.

“Well, I don’t know why he chose me in particular,” Alayne continued. “Maybe my father had something to do with that.”

“I still can’t believe you killed your own father.”

“It’s not like I wanted to,” Alayne blushed. “But, it was either kill him or let him kill the rest of you. He was completely under the Lich King’s control. I’d thought…for a moment there, it seemed that he might free himself but…”

The trio lapsed into silence. None of them wanted to contemplate the terrible choice Alayne had faced that night.

“So, what’s been bothering Ger’alin lately?” Alayne asked, abruptly changing the subject. “Is he angry with me over something?”

“Angry with you?” Callie asked, baffled. “No, he’s not angry with you.”

“It’s just that he’s always walking out of the room when I walk into it.”

“He’s been busy.”

“He’s been drunk, you mean,” Dar’ja muttered. “He does have a problem, Alayne, but none of us are certain of what it is.”

Callie decided to keep her mouth shut about her personal theories on the subject.

Instead, she shrugged helplessly. “Gerry just has to work things out on his own,” she sighed.

“He’s had a rough year. And, yes, the liquor isn’t helping but he isn’t going to quit drinking no matter how much you nag him, Dar’ja. As a matter of fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you to lay off him. He’s been drinking more lately just because it annoys you. He’s itching for a good brawl and half-hoping you’ll just attack him so he can fight back without having to deal with upsetting Zerith.”

“You know what Ger’alin needs?” Alayne said suddenly. “He needs a girlfriend.”

“A what?” Callie gasped.

“A girlfriend. Someone to keep him in line. Since I seem to be the match-maker here, I’ll have to start looking for someone for him.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dar’ja muttered.

“I think it’s a horrible one,” Callie groaned.

“Well, then, we’ll just have to see what he thinks,” Alayne grinned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Jez’ral and Mir’el said they wanted me to drop by as soon as I could. Apparently, they want to get me back in training. Jez’ral’s been mentioning visiting Outland for his research and Mir’el thinks that a change of scene would be good for me. Not to mention that both are hoping to be the first to learn with Prince Kael’thas will be returning to his kingdom.”

“Outland,” Dar’ja muttered. “Going through the dark portal to the orc’s homeland. No wonder you look flushed. I’d be excited too, were I offered the chance to go.”

17

“If we go, I’m sure you could tag along. I know that none of you like Jez’ral but he’s actually a good man. A strong warlock, too. And, I’m sure he’d see the sense in having some fighters and healers along. But, I’d better get going. I do want to return to my studies. And, maybe I’ll find a girlfriend for Ger’alin.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne grimaced and pulled her feet up, tucking them under her as she tried to finish the chapter she’d been reading. It was difficult with all of the eyes on her. The other warlocks stared at her, their gazes ranging from awe to horror. Only Jez’ral and Mir’el had accepted her back with anything approaching normalcy. Sighing in frustration, she stood up and walked down the corridor to Mir’el’s room. The man had promised her she could study there if the others bothered her too much. She growled when she found the door locked from the inside. Turning to leave, she heard it open and was startled to see a flustered Jez’ral lean out.

“Yes?” he asked, sounding very displeased.

“I was just looking for somewhere to study,” she muttered, raising her hands in surrender.

“Oh. Well, we’re working on something rather delicate in here and can’t have any disturbances,” he replied. “Good luck finding some place to read. Swing back by here tonight; I’ve got something I’ve been meaning to ask you since you returned.” Without another word, the man slammed the door shut. Alayne blinked, wondering what they were up to, but knew better than to ask. Walking up the corridor and taking the spiraling ramp to the street, Alayne left the inn and began walking around the city, looking for a quiet place to read. After making a full circuit of the city, she began to wonder idly if it were possible to wear her teeth down to powder from grinding them so much. She stopped by the house she shared with the others, quickly removing it from the list of possible places when she heard Zerith and Dar’ja getting an early start on celebrating their anniversary. “Light, that’s in a week,” she muttered to herself as she pulled the door closed quietly. “I’d better find a place to stay that night. Okay, every bench in the city is taken over by lovebirds. My house is infested with them. Down by the lake it is,” she said decisively.

Alayne hummed to herself as she walked lightly down the road, letting her irritation abate. Spring was just settling in, bringing the scent of flowers and the songs of birds to the air. Only the chill of the ground left any hint of winter, making one appreciate the warmth of the sun when sitting beneath a tree. Keeping a firm rein on her panic, reminding herself that the guards would not arrest her, she continued out of the city, climbing the path past Farstrider Retreat and picking her way down the slippery path towards Lake Elrendar. She felt her good mood beginning to evaporate and her irritation return when she heard grunts from the lake. Looking up, Alayne nearly swallowed her tongue.

Ger’alin stood near the edge of the lake, his sword dancing and singing as it cut through the air. He’d been there some time, venting his frustrations through sword work.

Alayne stared at him, watching in rapt fascination as he continued his deadly dance. She’d never noticed how broad his shoulders were or how muscular he was. No wonder their spars had left her arms ringing for hours afterwards. The warlock could feel her face heating and wondered if a breeze would blow through; the sun had gotten very warm all of a sudden. She turned away, wrenching her gaze from him to stare at the side of the hill and tried very hard not to think about how nice he looked without his shirt on and his warm brown hair pulled back out of his face. Memories of all the times he had made her laugh, of all the times he had picked her up and wrung sense into her flooded through her as she came to a startling realization. She closed her eyes and began gnawing on her tongue in hopeless frustration.

18

She’d joked a lot lately that he’d needed a girlfriend but this…this was intolerable! Besides, the moment he noticed she was there, he’d probably just leave again.

“Ah, Alayne!” he called out, seeing her when he finished a series of flanking defenses. “Did you come down here for a spar?” he asked. The woman ignored him, staring off into the distance and looking as if she were trying to find the answer to a difficult problem. “Are you all right?” he asked, jogging up the hill to her.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, a touch breathlessly. “I just came out here to get some reading done. Sorry to have interrupted you. Please, go back to what you were doing. Don’t worry about me,” she said in a rush. Ger’alin looked at her sharply, wondering if she were really well. Shrugging, he walked back down to where he had been and began working his forms again. Alayne glanced around and, finding a boulder to lean against, sat down, opened her book, and tried to keep her gaze on the pages in front of her. After a while, Ger’alin felt the familiar burn in tired muscles that told him he needed to take a break. Looking up the hill, he saw that Alayne was still sitting there, lost in her pages. Talking with her would be more relaxing than waving a sword about, he decided. Pulling on a shirt and wiping his face with a towel, he trotted up the hill to her.

Alayne had actually managed to put him out of her mind long enough to become engrossed in the treatise on the use of fel guards. She was chewing her lower lip in concentration as she tried to comprehend the methods of summoning them. “Hm,” she would mutter occasionally, wondering if she would be able to force one out of the Nether at her stage in training.

“Is it interesting?” Ger’alin asked softly, sitting down next to her and trying to catch a glimpse of the pages by leaning over her shoulder. “Hm, fel guards. Are those the ones with wings?” he asked. Alayne gave a start and looked over at him. So involved in her reading had she been, she had not heard him approach or sit down.

“No,” she said slowly, turning back to the book and trying not to think about how close he was sitting to her. “The ones with the wings are doom guards,” she answered.

“So, what are fel guards, then?” he asked. “Are there any pictures of them?” he said as he reached over to try to flip through a few of the pages himself, his hand brushing against hers. Alayne slammed the book shut and jumped to her feet. “Is something wrong?”

“I’ve just remembered that I promised Jez’ral I would be back before now,” she said quickly. “I’ll see you later,” she tossed over her shoulder as she trotted off. “It’s nothing. I’m just being a moron. I’ll get over it. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s nothing!” she muttered to herself in an undertone, berating herself for being such a fool.

“Didn’t mean to run you off or annoy you,” Ger’alin muttered beneath his breath as she vanished over the hill. Sighing, he stood up, dusted himself off, and walked slowly back to the city. ~*~*~*~ “You’re back rather early,” Jez’ral said wryly when he opened the door again. “Come in, come in,” he laughed, gesturing for her to enter. “I can ask you now, I suppose, since you’re back.”

“Ask me what?” Alayne said, still feeling a trifle flustered. She kept rubbing her hand where Ger’alin’s had brushed against it, still able to feel his touch. “It’s nothing. You’re not falling in love with him and even if you were, he thinks of you as a sister, just like Zerith,” she reminded herself silently.

“If you would like to face your final trial and then accompany me to Outland. I have research I’d like to conduct and I’m in need of a good assistant. Frankly, in the few weeks you’ve been back, you’ve shown that you’re one of the best warlocks around here and one of 19

the few I trust,” he smiled. “You’ll find me a generous slave-driver. As well as paying any expenses you incur while traveling with me – within reason, of course – I will offer you wages of ten gold per day on top of a share of any profits coming from the research you help me with.”

“I’m honored,” Alayne said breathlessly, her legs folding beneath her and dropping her on the floor. “I need time to think about it,” she continued, wincing in pain. She’d managed to miss the soft carpets and had landed flat on the stone floor. “What is the final trial?”

“To summon and control a fel guard,” he replied, reaching out a hand and pulling her to her feet. “You may begin the trial whenever you feel ready. Simply come to me and tell me and I will make the necessary arrangements. You should probably take the time to read up on the procedure a bit more, though,” he said, pointing to the book she carried. “That’s a good one. Very thorough. Mir’el has a few other texts you can borrow to prepare yourself.”

“Thank you,” she responded softly. “Do you think he’d mind if I sat here and read for a while? If the two of you are working on anything, I can leave.”

“Oh,” Jez’ral laughed, blushing, “we’re quite finished with our work. Have a seat; stay as long as you’d like. He’ll be back with supper shortly; you’re welcome to join us, if you want. We can discuss some of the hypotheses I have.”

“Thank you,” she repeated politely. “I’ll just sit over here and finish my reading.”

Sitting down on the couch, she flipped back to her place in the text and restarted her reading, still rubbing her hand and smiling to herself as she memorized the components and procedures required for summoning a fel guard. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin stood outside the house, his boots in his hands, trying to knock the mud off of them before he entered. He could smell supper cooking and he briefly considered putting his boots back on and heading for the nearest tavern. The scents wafting through the windows were mouth-watering. Roast chicken coated in a butter-sauce with sharp spices. He could also detect hints of honey-baked bread, potatoes, and greens. The smells make his stomach grumble with anticipatory delight even as his mind recoiled from entering the home. They could mean only one thing.

Alayne was in the kitchen.

He knew he’d been avoiding her lately. She’d tried to go back to their old camaraderie at first. However, he didn’t want to be just another friend or adopted brother. He didn’t want to return to the way things had been between them. And, he didn’t know how to explain that to her without risking driving her away from him entirely. What would she think if he just told her straight out? Would she think he thought of her as just another tavern wench? She could be extremely touchy about that. Would she be disgusted because she really did think of him as just a friend?

Telling her was too risky. If only he could glean some sign that his interest might be welcome…

“Damn this Light-forsaken mess!” Alayne shouted. Ger’alin heard a pot hit the ground with a clatter followed by cursing that made him wince even as he was surprised by the creativity of the phrasings. He felt a wave of magic surging in the house. Wondering what was going on, he opened the door and set his boots down inside. Walking into the kitchen, telling himself to act normal, he tried not to gape at what he saw.

Alayne stood in the kitchen scrubbing at her face, arms, and chest with a dishcloth.

She had splattered some kind of sauce all over herself. Clumps of it matted her hair. “Look you,” she said to a hulking demon in a tone that brooked no argument. “Your job is to stand 20

right here and make sure that none of this burns while I go back to the market and see if I can get any more baker’s chocolate. I want you to… Carefully! Here, just give me the damned thing. Right, you stand here. Every three minutes, you stir this. Every five minutes, you skim some of the basting sauce from this pan and dribble it over the chicken. I should be back in ten minutes. If this kitchen is in less than perfect condition, I’ll send you back to the Nether wearing some of Dar’ja’s lingerie. Understand?” The demon nodded sullenly. It clearly was not used to orders of this nature.

“A voidwalker in lingerie,” Ger’alin said with amusement. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Oh,” Alayne gasped, startled. “I didn’t know anyone was home yet. Would you mind watching over this brute and making certain he doesn’t get it into his head to destroy the work I’ve done here?”

“Certainly,” Ger’alin replied. “What happened?”

Alayne blushed furiously as she realized just how she must look. Ger’alin calmly walked over to her and scooped a bit of the sauce on her cheek away with a finger. Sticking it in his mouth to taste it, his eyes widened in shock.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she growled, staring at the floor. “Rum and chocolate go quite well together…as long as you don’t let the consistency get too thick so that it bubbles out and then explodes when you stir it. I didn’t know you’d be home so soon,” she added plaintively. “I must look ridiculous.”

“You look fine,” he said, trying to reassure her.

“No, I look like an idiot. You don’t have to be so kind. I’ll just…run out and get the chocolate…and some more rum,” she said as she darted out of the kitchen. Her heart pounded violently in her ears and she wanted to burst into tears. Ger’alin must think she was a complete moron. “A lot more rum,” she muttered beneath her breath as she dashed out of the house. A good, solid round after supper tonight would be most welcome.

Meanwhile, Ger’alin stood in the kitchen wondering just how he managed to wind up baby-sitting a voidwalker. Alayne must think he was a complete oaf…and, judging by the dessert she was planning, a drunk to boot. ~*~*~*~ “Alayne, are you feeling well?” Callie asked as she watched the woman pick at her food. “You’ve been moping around for days.” The warlock’s appetite had been diminishing lately. When the five gathered for supper, Alayne could barely eat or talk. And, when it was just a few of them, Alayne seemed oddly distracted and would forget to eat.

“I’m fine,” Alayne muttered defensively. “Just…getting restless, I guess. Spring’s coming; people always start feeling odd as winter comes to a close.”

“You’re not…getting sick again, are you?”

“Light, no,” Alayne said, looking surprised. “I’m sorry if I’ve been worrying you.

I’ve just been feeling the seasonal changes more this year. I guess it’s being back here again and not in Northrend where it’s pretty much winter year-round.” Shoving the plate aside, she stood up and began cleaning up the kitchen. “Don’t worry about me, Callie. It’s nothing.”

“If you say so,” the Forsaken said evenly as she began to eat what Alayne had left.

“Though, you know, you’re never going to get your strength back if you don’t start eating more.”

Alayne said nothing but finished clearing away the dishes and, wiping her hands dry, went out into the hallway to grab her cloak. “Where are you going?” Callie asked.

“Murder Row.” “Ugh. I’ll pass on following you. Maybe I’ll go see what Ger’alin’s up to.”

“Didn’t he say he would be training the new recruits today?”

21

“Yes. I’ll go watch them. It’s always fun to watch him put them in their place. You should come with me some time. You’re better with a sword than most of them.”

“Maybe another time,” Alayne said hurriedly. “I need to get going else I’ll be late.”

Callie finished her and Alayne’s lunch and then, after clearing away the last of the things, walked over to Farstrider Square. She took the long way, avoiding Murder Row and enjoying the warming air. Eversong never grew cold but spring was blowing through on the light, warm breezes from the west. Passing through the vaulting gates, she soon arrived in Farstrider Square. Outside of the Blood Knight’s stronghold she saw Ger’alin admonishing and instructing a group of fledgling sin’dorei paladins. He waved to her when he saw her and then quickly returned to his class. She sat on a nearby bench to watch as the trainees fumbled their way through the beginning forms. Ger’alin moved among them, correcting their stances, demonstrating the correct grip, offering praise where it was merited. Since his return to Silvermoon, he’d quickly become one of the most respected instructors in swordsmanship.

After a while, he dismissed his class and went over to sit and chat with the Forsaken.

“They’re doing well,” Callie complimented him.

“They’re eager to learn. Most of them have been dreaming of going out and earning a name for themselves. Still, it would help if some of them would lose their arrogance. You can never learn anything if you’re convinced you know everything already.”

“Well, I’m sure you can put them in their place,” she teased. Seeing him grin, she laughed. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing that the young fool won’t recover from in a few days. I hurt his pride more than his arm. So, did you manage to get Alayne to tell you what has her so droopy and moping lately?”

“She says it’s just the seasons changing. I think it’s something else, though. Nothing serious. She just reminds me of a friend of mine who had this huge crush on Arthas. Alayne is moping around just like Natalie did until she finally got over it. Oh, don’t you go looking like that, Gerry,” Callie snapped. “I doubt it’s exactly same situation. First of all, Alayne doesn’t seem to remember she’s female most of the time. I seriously doubt she’s dragging around over that. It’s probably just like she says; the seasons changing. Some women can be sensitive to it, I guess. I remember when I was alive, at the dark of the moon, I would…”

“Thank you but could we please find another topic of conversation?” Ger’alin muttered, sounding strangled.

“Don’t tell me you forget that she’s female,” Callie teased. “She may be thin as a rail right now, but she’s still got a figure, if you could get her to wear something other than those oversized, baggy robes of hers.”

“So, how would you like a tour of our sanctuary?” he offered, trying to divert her.

His traitorous blushes gave away the truth of his thoughts.

“Nice try,” she congratulated him, “but I want some pay back for all the times you yelled at me or I had to comfort some weeping sin’dorei whose heart you’d broken with your whole ‘The only woman I ever loved is lost to me’ spiel. Now, as I was saying, she’s still got a figure…” ~*~*~*~ Alayne wished that Ger’alin and Callie would move away soon so she could get up from her cramped and uncomfortable hiding spot. She wondered what they were talking about. Callie was laughing and Ger’alin was turning bright red. She growled when he lowered his head, hiding his face. She liked looking at his face, seeing his bright smile, wishing he were smiling at her. Why was he hiding it?

22

“Light, listen to yourself, woman,” she muttered. “What are they talking about that has him so flustered?” She felt guilty for spying on him like this but she couldn’t help it.

Thinking of him, just wanting to watch him so filled her thoughts that she couldn’t think straight. She’d tried to act normally around him but was afraid she couldn’t mask just how much she enjoyed hearing his voice, feeling his presence near her… “This would be a fine joke if I weren’t the butt of it,” she sighed. “It’s nothing, though. It will go away. He’ll never have to know and I’ll never have to feel as much a fool as I do now,” she muttered, trying to tell herself it was just physical and that she didn’t long to hear his voice, talk to him about anything…just be near him…

Callie’s laughter cut off suddenly when she glanced over her shoulder. Alayne froze, wondering if she’d given herself away. Callie began prodding Ger’alin in the shoulder and pointing towards the Blood Knight’s inner sanctum, as if urging him to go inside. For once, Alayne agreed with her. The warlock’s legs felt like icy lumps of meat from lack of circulation. Ger’alin looked up, glancing around slowly in confusion. Alayne gasped when a blonde elven mage wearing stylish robes that clung to her form and did more than hint at what they hid, waltzed up to the pair on the bench and, without a word, dropped into Ger’alin’s lap, threw her arms around his neck, and began kissing the Blood Knight. Before either of them came up for air, Alayne fled, stumbling through the shadows back through the alley, feeling as if she had been sucker-punched. Her only thought was to hurry back home, to her room, where she could be alone and unseen. Ignoring the concerned or annoyed glances from the others on the streets, she stumbled until the blood returned to her legs and then she ran, not caring who she ran into, until she was safely back in her room. “It’s nothing; it was just a pointless bit of hero-worship. Just nothing at all,” she told herself again and again.

Back in the square, Ger’alin had finally managed to pry Ta’sia’s hands from his hair.

“Light, woman, what is wrong with you?” he demanded breathlessly.

“I just wanted to see if you were as good as I remembered,” she teased. “So, was it good for you?”

“What will be good for me is if you get off me and leave me alone,” he said firmly.

“Don’t you have some other men to go bother?”

Ta’sia chuckled and twined her arms around his neck again. Ger’alin glared at her, wishing for just a moment that he hadn’t learned the lesson about not hitting women. “You’re so tense,” she whispered suggestively, “Why not come back with me? I can help you…relax.

You certainly enjoyed it last time.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Callie muttered, reaching over and grabbing the woman by the scruff of her neck. Hauling her off Ger’alin, the Forsaken dragged her several feet away before gripping the woman’s arm with her other hand and letting go of her neck.

“I thought you were man enough not to need a nursemaid,” Ta’sia laughed.

“Shut up before you need a nursemaid,” Callie suggested. “Why are you bothering us, anyway?” she asked. “I’d have figured that you would never want to see him again after that morning.”

“Oh, I like a challenge,” she said gaily. “And, he came up to me in the bar not even a week ago, so I know he’s back on the streets, prowling around with his heartbreaking story again. I just figured I’d do the rest of my sisters a favor and keep him and his pathetic story out of their lives.”

“Ta’sia, how many times do I have to tell you that I’m sorry for what happened? And it’s not a story. It’s not an act. I really and truly am not interested.” Ger’alin growled. “I know you’re not used to hearing ‘no’ from a man, but it’s nothing personal. I’m sure that, aside from being a complete tramp, you’re a lovely woman. I’m just not interested.”

23

The mage stared at him as if he’d spoken some incomprehensible language.

Shrugging, she tried to wrench her arm out of Callie’s grasp. Anger stained her face when she saw A’sara grinning from the other side of the square. If Ta’sia couldn’t bend Ger’alin to her will, she’d never live it down. Taking a deep breath, feeling the heat leave her face, she sighed and schooled her face to indifference. Glancing at the Forsaken, she whispered that the woman could let go of her arm; she wasn’t going anywhere. “Could I ask you something, then, Ger’alin?” she said, sounding surprisingly calm. He nodded. “Are you happy with her?”

“With who?” he asked, trying not to panic at what he knew was about to come.

“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here. Just tell me who she is.”

“There is no she,” he muttered, trying to sound calm and failing.

“I see,” Ta’sia said evenly. “Well then, I’ll see you around,” she said with a wink.

She had a name and, from the way he jumped, the woman was probably close by. He’d pay for embarrassing her like this, Ta’sia thought to herself as she began making plans for how to exact her revenge.

Ger’alin sighed with relief when she left. Callie sat back down by him, not saying a word. Both of them felt bad about what had happened with Ta’sia but it had been the woman’s own fault. “You ready to head back home?” Callie asked after a while.

“Not really. I’m going to have to tell her straight out before Ta’sia can find her and ruin everything, aren’t I?” “Eventually. Sooner will probably be better than later, though. I know why you’ve kept it to yourself so long but I don’t think this will be as bad as you fear.”

“She’ll be disgusted and Zerith will probably throw me out. I don’t know if I could stand that, Callie, to never see her again, even if seeing her and saying nothing is torture…at least I have that much. I’m terrified to losing it.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin stood uncertainly before the door to Alayne’s room. He lifted his hand to knock on it and let it fall back to his side for the twentieth time. Once again, he rehearsed what he wanted to say, wishing it didn’t sound so stupid. He would trade all his worldly possessions for something to calm the butterflies playing kettle drums in his stomach. Lifting his hand again, he actually made it as far as a few centimeters from the door before chickening out again.

“Looking for Alayne?” Zerith asked as he walked up the stairs. Ger’alin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the man’s voice. Turning sheepishly to face him, the Blood Knight nodded, trying to think of a plausible excuse for why he would be looking for her. “She’s not here,” Zerith continued, oblivious to the other man’s nervousness. “She left a little while ago. Said something about needing to go talk to Jez’ral.”

“Oh,” Ger’alin replied, feeling both crushed and relieved at the same time.

“What were you looking for her for?”

“Um…no reason. Just wanted to see if maybe she wanted some company is all.”

“That sounds like a very unconvincing excuse. Do you need a few minutes to think up a believable lie or do you want to tell me what she’s gotten up to now that has you looking like you’re going to be sick?”

“Option two sounds great to me.”

“Spill it, Ger’alin. The last two times I’ve seen you looking for her with that expression on your face, it meant trouble. What has she done now? Have the Blood Knights decided to round up all of the returning defectors despite the official pardon?”

24

“Oh, no. It’s nothing like that,” he said quickly, confidently. “I just wanted to talk to her a bit. The two of you always have your heads together lately. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with her since she…”

“Okay then, Ger’alin,” Zerith laughed. “Have it your way. Why don’t you come on down and help me get something ready for supper? Dar’ja should be home soon. How did your class go today?”

Ger’alin followed the priest into the kitchen, glad of the diversion and the fact that the man wasn’t going to demand a straight answer. He knew Zerith liked him well enough, but it was one thing to be a man’s friend. It was something else entirely when you announced that you wanted to court his adopted sister who reminded him of his real sister and who happened to sleep just two doors down from you. Pushing the thoughts away, he forced himself to act normally and tried not to flinch when Zerith began cutting the vegetables up for the stew. He could just see the other man cutting him to ribbons if he told him why he’d really been standing outside Alayne’s door. ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral said nothing but let the fel guard carry its mistress into the room. He’d been surprised when the creature appeared and Alayne had it under her control in less than a minute. His respect for his student had risen enormously, even after she’d collapsed in an exhausted heap at the creature’s feet. Motioning to the couch, he let the hulking demon set her down, making no moves towards her. Linked as they were, the demon would take pains to ensure that she remained safe; not out of loyalty, but out of sheer self-preservation.

“She’s amazing,” Mir’el whispered, not wanting to spook the fel guard.

“She is,” Jez’ral agreed, looking around for a blanket to cover her with. Mir’el noticed and, without a word, walked into the bedroom and took one from the closet. Holding it up so the fel guard could see that it posed no threat, Mir’el tiptoed slowly over to the sleeping woman and tucked her in, even convincing the fel guard to move a little so he could stuff a pillow beneath the woman’s head. Alayne slept through it all, not even rousing a bit.

“You’ll look after her in Outland,” Mir’el asked, making it sound like a statement rather than a request.

“I will. And, she’ll look after me. We won’t be gone too long, Mir’el.”

“You’d better not be. Outland is no place for a child like her. I don’t care what the other Master Warlocks and Magisters say; it’s a vile place to have spawned someone like Gul’dan or Ner’zhul.”

“You sound like a mother hen, Mir’el. Alayne and I will be fine.”

“We should have adopted her like I wanted to when you brought her home.”

Jez’ral clucked his tongue in irritation. He did not want to have this discussion again.

“You can’t adopt a seventeen year old,” he pointed out reasonably. “She’s not a doll. Besides, her parents never wrote out a…what are you doing?”

“She’s not a doll but…well, she is a young woman now…” Mir’el muttered as he hurried back into the other room. He returned with a robe that was evidently meant for Alayne. Jez’ral’s eyes bulged when he got a good look at it. Low-cut, it would definitely put an end to the whispers from the other students about whether or not Alayne was a woman.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“I’m sure she will,” he answered, shaking his head. “And, if she doesn’t like it, I can guarantee that most of the boys her age will.”

“You have to tell her, Jez’ral. She wears such baggy robes, especially now that she’s lost so much weight from her…travels. She needs to show off a little or else she’ll never catch any eyes.”

25

“Light, you act like you are her mother. I could see you and Miris cooking up a scheme like this between the pair of you. Tal’ar would have had a fit, though,” Jez’ral sighed.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting me to tell her all kinds of other things,” he said, shooting the man a pointed look. “She likes us well enough, Mir’el, but she’s my student and…”

“If she’s passed her trials, she’s not your student any more. Her name will go on the list of Master Warlocks and she’ll be your equal.”

“In rank, maybe, but…”

“Where am I?” Alayne asked sleepily from the couch. “Oh, hello Mir’el. Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch,” she yawned, starting to push herself up.

“You just stay right where you are,” the man said lightly, but firmly. “You just spent over six hours performing a summoning ritual and subduing a demon. You’re not going anywhere without another few hours of sleep.”

“I should get home,” she protested. “Zerith will be worried sick about me.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Jez’ral said, striding out of the apartment in search of a messenger. “Besides, it will give Mir’el a chance to see what you think of his gift,” the warlock snorted as he closed the door, trying not to laugh at the looks on their faces. ~*~*~*~ “Did you sleep out here in the hall?” Zerith asked when he nearly tripped over Ger’alin the next morning. The Blood Knight glared up at him blearily and shifted as if trying to get more comfortable. “I told you, she’ll be home when she gets home,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re acting oddly lately. Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ger’alin yawned. “I just thought maybe she’d be back before now and was convinced that if I got up and went to my room, she’d sneak back in behind my back.”

“Why do you want to talk to her so badly? Seriously, Ger’alin, if she’s in trouble…”

“She’s not,” he interrupted. “Stop worrying about her. She’s not in trouble.”

“Then what is so urgent?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ger’alin said tiredly, waving the other man off. Pushing himself up, he stumbled to his room to catch a few hours’ more sleep before he had to teach another group of raw recruits how not to cut their feet off. Zerith stood in the hallway, chuckling to himself and shaking his head when he heard the broken snores and incoherent babbling that meant the Blood Knight was asleep. Walking downstairs, he waved to Callie, grabbed a biscuit from the kitchen, and turned to leave. With spring arriving, now was the perfect time for him to go out collecting plants to add to his stock. He opened the door, smiling in anticipation of a lovely day in the forests and nearly walked right over Alayne. His sister jumped back and stared at him, looking concerned, when he threw back his head and began laughing so hard tears streamed down his face and he had trouble breathing.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, looking embarrassed. “It’s these robes, isn’t it?

Well, it was Mir’el’s idea and…”

“Oh Light, no, it’s not that,” he managed to gasp out. “Though…wow. It’s certainly a change. Not quite sure what I think about them right now,” he chuckled, glancing over her and knuckling tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before. Are you trying to catch someone’s eye?”

Alayne smoothed her hands over her hips and glanced down. The robes Mir’el had given her were low-cut and form-fitting in the chest. The long, tapered sleeves hung down to her wrists. The skirt, connected to the top with a thin ribbon of cloth, was snug across her hips but flared out comfortably when she walked. It was the cut-outs on the side that were the worst. Emphasizing her narrow waist and curved figure by displaying it for the world to see, 26

they left little to the imagination. She felt like a fool wearing them but Mir’el’s pleading gaze had convinced her to at least put them on long enough to get home and hide them in the darkest corner of her closet.

“No,” she said, blushing so much so as to scream ‘yes’ to anyone who knew her.

“Who is it?” he teased. He hoped it was someone worthy of her, though. Zerith was not going to let just anyone court his adopted sister.

“No one!” she insisted, stamping her foot in frustration. “Mir’el gave these to me as a gift for becoming a Master Warlock. I’m not quite certain why, but he did,” she sighed, plucking at the skirt and wondering if Dar’ja could help her find something to cover the lowcut neck. She pulled her cloak around her, holding it shut at the throat.

“Maybe he likes you,” Zerith teased.

“If Mir’el liked me, we really would have a problem,” she snapped.

“Sounds like I struck a nerve,” he giggled. “Oh, very well, I’ll leave you alone about it. Ger’alin’s been wanting to talk to you since yesterday afternoon. I guess it’s important – at least it is to him – so you might want to go wake him and see what he wants. You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No. I’d better not be. Jez’ral will be furious with me if I get tossed in a cell and can’t go to Outland with him.”

“You’re going to Outland?”

“Yes, as his assistant for a while. Oh, don’t get so angry. The pay is good, the chances to conduct my own research are invaluable, and it would only be for a few months. Then, I’ll get to come back here and teach my own classes and add to your and Ger’alin’s stories about thick-skulled students.”

“So, just you and Jez’ral, alone, in Outland. I don’t like that idea at all, Alayne. I know he’s your teacher and you respect him, but I don’t trust him one bit.”

“If you want to come, you can. You, Callie, and Dar’ja would be welcome to tag along.”

“Is Ger’alin not welcome?”

“Oh, I imagine he wouldn’t want to leave Silvermoon,” she said lightly, gaily, masking the way the words twisted her guts. “He’s got a girlfriend he’s not telling us about,” she winked. “I’ll bet that’s what he was so desperate to talk to me about. Probably wanted my advice on how to deal with her – as if I’d have the first clue about anything like that. I suppose, like most men, he assumes that since I worked in a tavern, I’m some sort of relationship expert.”

“If I wasn’t going in a hurry to find the best plants, I’d ask you for more details,” Zerith laughed. “As it is, talk to him before he explodes. He stayed in the hallway all night in case you came home, terrified that you would sneak in right after he decided to go to sleep.

And, you have,” the priest said, laughing.

“I don’t have time to wake him, wait for him to actually regain consciousness, and then chat,” she said, forcing herself to laugh. “I just came by to grab a few of my things. I’ll be staying with Jez’ral and Mir’el…shut up, Zerith! You don’t know what I know about Mir’el, so shut up. We’ve got some tests to run before we go to Outland. We’re leaving in two days. If you want to come along, we’ll be in Hellfire Peninsula for a while.”

“I’ll talk to the others. Maybe we’ll catch you up on the road. Meet me for supper tonight at the Keepers; I know Dar’ja will want to hear about Ger’alin’s secret girlfriend as much as I do. See you later, sis,” he said, hugging her and hurrying off, laughing to himself all the while.

Alayne ducked into the house, grateful that Ger’alin was asleep and would not see here dressed like she was. Part of her mind considered going in, waking him up, and seeing what his reaction would be. Maybe she could convince him to…

27

“No, that’s just foolishness,” she muttered to herself as she raced into her room and packed the things she would need to take with her to Outland. “He thinks of me as a younger sister. And, his girlfriend would hate me if I tried anything. Light knows I’ve seen enough of those triangles to know that it would just mean losing him as a friend and never seeing him again. I don’t think I could stand that.” ~*~*~*~ “What are you doing here? This area is restricted,” Jez’ral muttered to the group of mages who were hovering around the ruins of the Sunwell. Alayne glared at his back but said nothing as she set down the rods and crystals and studied the diagram he’d drawn. She had to scale up the silken wall-hangings that overlooked the massive room. The Sunwell had originally been open to the elements. However, after its destruction, the Magisters had built a complex to house and guard it while they worked to try to restore it. Red velvet tapestries, blue silken gauze curtains, lightly gilded marble archways, and dark carpets decorated the vast complex. Rumor had it that Kael’thas had plans to set up the new palace here on the remnants of the Sunwell. Once he returned from Outland, that was.

“We just wanted to look at it,” one of the women muttered. “It’s part of our heritage.

We’ve a right to see it.”

“You’ve a right to leave before I call for the guards who were supposed to keep you out of here,” he growled, irritated. The group turned to leave, passing by Alayne. The woman did a double-take at seeing one of the women and reached out, grabbing her by the arm.

“What do you want?” the sin’dorei woman, a mage by her dress, asked angrily.

“Do you know a Blood Knight named Ger’alin?” Alayne asked, studying the woman’s face. She could have been Alayne’s twin sister so closely did they resemble each other.

“Ger’alin? Yes, I know him quite well,” the woman said, a hint of acid in her tone.

Alayne winced, glad she had not given into the temptation to try even the feeblest attempts at seduction on the paladin. His girlfriend was obviously very possessive. But then, what woman wouldn’t be a bit possessive in that situation?

“I thought you might,” Alayne said, forcing herself to smile warmly and to banish all thoughts of screaming or blasting the other woman into a cinder. “I saw you with him yesterday in Farstrider Square.”

“Oh, well, who are you? Are you one of his…friends?”

“I guess you could say that,” Alayne replied slowly. “My name is Alayne and…”

“So you’re Alayne. I’ve been dying to meet you,” the woman laughed. “My name is Ta’sia.”

“Alayne, we have work to be about,” Jez’ral said in an annoyed sing-song tone.

“Ta’sia, I’m sorry, but I have to work now. Why don’t you meet me and some other friends of Ger’alin’s at the Keepers tonight for supper? We’d love a chance to get to know his girlfriend. We’d also like to know why he’s keeping you a secret. That’s rather mean of him.

Anyone he cares for is sure to be a friend of ours,” she said, surprised at how well she kept her voice warm and welcoming. The mage nodded in acceptance of the invitation, eyeing the warlock speculatively, and then hurried off before Jez’ral had a stroke from impatience.

“You may not be my student anymore, but I expect you to…”

“Yes, Jez’ral,” Alayne sighed as she dashed about, placing the rods and crystals as specified by his chart. Within an hour, the set up was complete. Jez’ral nodded in approval and settled down on one of the broken benches to begin his testing for resonance. Alayne sat on the ground near him, keeping half her mind on the task at hand while the other half fought over whether she should be happy to be meeting Ger’alin’s secret girlfriend or whether she 28

should go home and strangle him right now. Sighing in frustration, she tried to focus on her work; tried to keep the memory of his smile out of her mind. ~*~*~*~ Zerith quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. The resemblance between the two women was absolutely uncanny. True, they could be told apart after that first glance. Ta’sia’s face was slightly fuller. She wore eye shadow that made her eyes seem larger. Her lipstick was impeccably applied. Alayne’s face was thinner – partly a result of her long sickness – and she used no artifice to enhance her features. Still, between the pair, Zerith would have chosen Alayne.

“So, how did you meet Ger’alin?” the priest asked politely. Next to him, he could feel Dar’ja bristling.

“We met in Stranglethorn Vale while he was traveling,” Ta’sia replied.

“Stranglethorn Vale?” Zerith said, hoping she would elaborate.

“I was down there studying the ley-lines around the southern coast. He was there with his friend Callie. We saw each other in the inn and spent most of that night together.

He’s a wonderful dancer,” she said innocently. “I traveled with him for a time but then he said he’d feel better if I came back to Silvermoon where it was safer. He had just rescued me from a pack of ogres in Tanaris,” she added, blushing. “I told him I’d be waiting for him here.

He promised me we could pick right back up where we’d left off, once he returned to Silvermoon. He said he couldn’t go back himself just yet. Something about bad memories…I didn’t press him. It was clear that he’d lost someone he’d cared about.”

“I see,” Alayne blushed. “Well, I’m glad he decided to come back and that you waited for him. He’s a nice man. I just wish he’d told us about you.”

“I wish he’d said something about that as well,” Zerith echoed. Something about the woman’s explanation did not sit right with him. “He never mentioned you at all when he came back to discuss going to Northrend…”

“That was at my insistence,” Ta’sia answered quickly. “He’d told me so much about you. I was…intimidated. I mean, I had not fought alongside you with the Disorder of Azeroth. I had actually spoken out against your little group a few times. But then, you were so successful…I was afraid that if you heard he was seeing me, you’d convince him I wasn’t worthy of him. So, I begged him not to mention my name to you at all.”

“Not everyone was enamored of our idea,” Zerith said, trying to be understanding. “It could have backfired on us completely. We wouldn’t have held it against you that you thought it was a bad idea. Many good people did.”

“I was one of those who thought it was a bad idea at first,” Dar’ja volunteered.

“However, Zerith convinced me otherwise,” she added with a smile.

“Ger’alin managed to convince me to reconsider. And, after hearing him and Callie talk about what you did, I have to say that it was a good idea. I especially look up to you, Alayne,” she added, turning to face the other woman and putting a fond hand on her shoulder.

“You suffered so much and yet, through it all, you continued to fight. The way Ger’alin would speak of you…to be honest, I was the most intimidated by you. I thought that the rest of you would think I was trying to take Alayne’s place. So, I stayed away. I see that was wrong of me, now. I should have introduced myself. I should have shown you just how happy Ger’alin was with me. I shouldn’t have let my foolish fears and insecurities keep us apart. I do hope that we will be friends.”

“There’s no reason we shouldn’t be,” Alayne grinned. “After all, anyone who makes Ger’alin happy makes me happy. He deserves to be happy. But, I hope he makes you happy as well, Ta’sia.”

29

“He does,” she laughed. “I care for him with all my heart. I would never do anything to hurt him. Though, I might play a good prank on him. I wonder, could you help me come up with something? He did say you were quite creative…”

The two women began plotting. Zerith watched on. He wanted to like Ta’sia. Really, he did. But something about her was slightly off-putting. And then, he’d harbored a few forlorn hopes about Ger’alin and Alayne…

With a weighty sigh, he shoved such thoughts away and focused on getting to know the woman Ger’alin had chosen. ~*~*~*~ “I knew it. I knew that the minute I went to my room, she’d come home and leave again,” Ger’alin growled angrily. He’d awoken, barely in time to make his class, with Callie telling him that Alayne had come back and then left immediately on some errand for Jez’ral.

If he hadn’t had to teach, he’d have gone directly to the remains of the Sunwell and talked to her right then, while he still had the courage. As it was, he’d been ready to rush off after the class ended, only to be cornered and forced into an hours’ long discussion over the relative differences between the source of the priests’ and the Blood Knights’ healing powers. By the time he’d finally gotten away, the sun was already beginning to set.

“Ger’alin, why are you so upset about this? So, you didn’t get to pour your heart out to her yet. It’s not like she’s running off anywhere. You’ll get to tell her tonight or tomorrow.

One more day isn’t going to make a huge difference. If you tell her at all. I have money on you wimping out again,” the Forsaken cackled. “Sometimes, the living can be so amusing.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad someone’s entertained by my problems,” he snapped. “Where is everyone?” he asked, opening the door to an empty house.

“Out, apparently,” Callie answered as she strode inside. “Hm, Dar’ja left a note saying she and Zerith were dining out tonight and that Alayne wouldn’t be home either. It says that there’s leftover stew to be warmed up if we want it.”

“Light,” Ger’alin moaned, turning his face to the ceiling, “what have I done to offend you so? I’ve tried to be a good and honorable man.”

“Stop being so melodramatic, Gerry. It’s not the end of the world. Sit down, eat something, and try not to make a bigger fool of yourself than you must.”

“Yes, try not to do that,” Ta’sia laughed, making him nearly hit the ceiling when he jumped and whirled around. The mage stood in the hallway, flanked by a smiling Zerith and Dar’ja. The priest took her cloak and hung it up on the wall, cocking an eyebrow at Ger’alin when the Blood Knight stood there, looking pole axed.

“You thought you could keep her a secret from us?” Dar’ja whispered into Ger’alin’s ear when she hugged him. “She’s nice. We all like her.”

“How…what…why…what’s going on here?” Ger’alin asked, looking extremely confused. Callie stood behind him, wondering the same thing herself.

“Oh, you don’t have to be shy around us,” Dar’ja grinned wickedly. “We know all about it now. Zerith, why don’t you show Ta’sia up to Alayne’s room and then give her the tour?” Waiting until the two were out of earshot, Dar’ja smacked Ger’alin playfully on the arm. “Why didn’t you tell us about her sooner? Alayne was shocked to her toenails that you would hide your girlfriend from us. I’m just glad she happened to see you two when she was getting some air yesterday over in Farstrider Square. Really, Ger’alin, how could you?”

“What do you know about her?” Callie asked slowly.

“What do we need to know?” Dar’ja asked archly. “She’s a good woman and she cares for Ger’alin very much. So much so that she wanted to stay hidden and work hard to

30

‘prove’ she was good enough for him so we wouldn’t object. Ger’alin, how could you let her think that?”

“What has she told you?” Ger’alin pleaded.

“Everything. You know, Alayne really likes her. The two of them were as thick as thieves by the time we ordered dessert. If you hurt Ta’sia, you may have Alayne sending one of her demons after you.” “…and that’s where everything is,” Zerith was saying, finishing up the tour. “If Dar’ja and I wake you up at night, just throw something against the wall. That’s what Alayne always does. She calls it her ‘remote volume control method.’ Not that it’s been very effective, mind you,” he teased.

“Ta’sia, could I talk with you for a few minutes?” Ger’alin asked, trying not to sound as shaken as he felt. The woman smiled at him, a smile that said he was trapped like a bear in a vice, and nodded. Taking her hand, he pulled her up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door shut and glaring at her. “What in the name of Sargeras and the Legion is going on here?” he demanded.

“What?” she asked innocently. “Why, I’m just getting to know your friends, darling,” she laughed, reaching up to stroke the side of his face. He pulled away, hissing as if burned.

“What is going on? They may seem like nice people, Ta’sia, but they will rip you apart when I tell them the truth.”

“No, they won’t. Alayne won’t, at least. If you tell her anything, she’ll knock you over the head and drag us off to be married herself. She told me about the one night you spent in her room and what you said the next day. She thinks you’re just the most honorable, chivalrous, kind-hearted…oh, I run out of descriptions for what she thinks of you! To listen to her talk, you and Zerith hung the moon and stars. She’s such a sweet, sweet little girl.”

Clucking her tongue against her teeth, Ta’sia wagged a finger in Ger’alin’s face. “She’d be absolutely mortified to find out what you really think of her. For a warlock, she’s one of the most innocent and naïve women I know.”

“You can’t be serious,” he growled.

“Oh, but I am. The look on her face when you finally work up the nerve to tell her the truth – the honest-to-Light truth – about us will be more than adequate payback for the humiliation you’ve caused me! I intend to stick around long enough to see it!” she promised.

Softening her features, she moved to the door, favoring him with a nasty grin as she went out.

A few minutes later, Callie knocked on the door and let herself in, settling down on the floor across from him and crooning under her breath, trying to catch his attention without startling him. She’d never seen anyone look so upset in her life or unlife. Sighing, she stood up and sat on the bed, stroking his hair, careful not to tangle her bony fingers in it, while he sat staring off into space, a look of absolute horror and dread on his face.

“Of all the women out there, why did it have to be her?” he asked no one, sounding aghast.

“Because you were three sheets to the wind and didn’t know what was going on.

Because I’d gotten bored with listening to your drunken mutterings and self-accusations and went off to go hunt raptors, leaving you alone and unguarded. And, most likely, because you have the worst luck of any single person I’ve known in my entire existence, up to and including myself,” Callie whispered gently.

“How can she…what do I do now? She’s got me trapped like a snake in a cleft stick!

If I tell everyone the truth, they’ll hate me. If I go along with it, I’ll be miserable.”

“Ssh, now. Calm down. Ger’alin, think about it. If you go along with it, Ta’sia will get bored with you and will eventually reveal her true nature. Then, you’ll be able to explain things without looking like a monster. Just humor her, be polite, avoid her as much as you

31

can without seeming to, and she’ll have her arms twined around some other man before you can blink.”

“I suppose I have no choice right now,” he sighed, standing up. “I’d better get down there and try to put on a convincing act. Wish me luck.”

“Break a leg, Ger’alin,” Callie said simply. “Oh, tell the others not to wait up for me.

I’m going to go visit Alayne and see exactly what she knows. Maybe I can help you get out of this one faster that way,” the Forsaken muttered as she and Ger’alin parted in the hallway outside of the living room. “At the very least, I can try to keep her out of trouble. Light knows she finds it easier than anyone other than you, Gerry,” she sighed to herself as she headed towards Murder Row. ~*~*~*~ “Alayne? May I come in?” Callie asked when the woman opened the door. Alayne glanced over her shoulder, whispering something in Thalassian and then pulled the door the rest of the way open to admit the rogue. Callie’s eyes bulged when she saw who Alayne had been talking to. “Is this some strange sin’dorei custom that I never heard of? Do your men routinely dress as women? Should we get Zerith and Ger’alin a get-up like what he’s wearing?” She asked, trying not to laugh at the man wearing a wig and lipstick.

“Oh, what? No, this is Mir’el seeing how much he can make me blush. I think he and Jez’ral have a wager going on who can make me melt first.”

“We don’t, my dear,” Mir’el laughed merrily. “But you’ve got to learn to entice men if you ever want to catch any and how better to learn than with one who’s perfectly safe?” “‘Perfectly safe?’” Callie asked, confused. Alayne buried her face in her hands in mortification, her shoulders heaving; whether she was crying or laughing was open for debate.

“Now, try again,” Mir’el was saying. “Remember to bat your eyes and pucker your lips a little this time. Like this,” he demonstrated, sending Callie into gales of laughter.

“I am not doing this!” Alayne said, dropping her face on the table and wrapping her arms over her head.

“You are or I will keep you awake bugging you about it until Jez’ral loads you on the wyvern to go to Outland.”

“You’re going to Outland?” Callie said, surprised.

“Yes, she is,” Mir’el replied. “And there are plenty of healthy sin’dorei men out there who are in need of a good woman. After all, our population is not just going to rebuild itself.

You know that you have a duty to the blood to continue...”

“This. Is. Not. Happening,” Alayne growled, banging her head against the table with each word. “Besides, I’ve worked in a tavern, Mir’el! I know how to entice men! You don’t have to do this! Especially since I’m not at all interested!”

“You’re interested in someone, my dear,” Mir’el teased. “I’ve seen your daydreaming blushes. Someone’s captured your eye. You just need to be a little more…convincing and soon enough, I’ll be helping you plan your wedding. So, let’s pretend that you and this young man – who had best be worthy of you, my dear – are sitting together at an inn. He mentions that he’d love to take a walk with you and get to know you better. What do you do?”

“Thank him for the offer and then plead tiredness, go up to my room, and bury myself in a good book because I’m not interested in anyone!”

“No! Wrong!” Mir’el laughed. “Light, Miris was better at this than you are!”

“I’m not interested in finding a husband! And can we please not mention my mother!”

32

“You should be. With those cheekbones…I would kill for cheekbones like you have.

Well, maybe not kill but definitely maim. Now, what’s the right answer?”

“The answer you want is that I invite him up to my room and test his stamina over the course of the next few days! Now, can we please discuss another topic? Anything other than this!”

“You are a shy one. You’re almost as bad as Jez’ral was before the Itchweed Incident.”

“Itchweed Incident?” Callie grinned. Mir’el grinned back at her. Alayne covered her ears and began humming. Loudly. Just then, Jez’ral entered the apartment, nearly turning and leaving again when he saw Callie. “Relax,” the Forsaken laughed. “I’m not here to eat you, I promise.”

“Eat him? So you’re the one who managed to scare him? Good going!” Mir’el laughed. “I wanted to bite him myself when I found out about what happened.”

“You did bite me. Quite hard as a matter of fact. I had to keep my collar pulled up for a month,” Jez’ral muttered, sitting down at the table. “What are you doing that has poor Alayne turning a rather interesting shade of red?”

“Trying to teach her about how to pick up men.”

“Tell her about the itchweed. That worked wonders for you, I seem to recall,” Jez’ral grinned. Alayne stared at him, horrified, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. “You see, it all started when…Alayne, where are you going?” he laughed when she bolted deeper into the apartment, slamming the door behind her. He went after her, dragging her back to the table. “Stop being so shy. You’ll never catch a husband if you don’t learn a few things.”

“So, tell me about this itchweed. It sounds amusing, to say the least…” Callie grinned, grabbing Alayne’s arms before the woman could cover her ears again. ~*~*~*~ “Outland,” he said flatly. “She’s gone to Outland.”

“That’s what it says,” Zerith said, pointing at the note. “I knew she was going to go out there with Jez’ral. I thought they’d wait another day or so before leaving, though.”

“Wait, you knew and you didn’t tell me?” Ger’alin demanded angrily.

“She mentioned it yesterday when she stopped by. It slipped my mind last night with Ta’sia here.” Ger’alin snorted and rolled his eyes, making Zerith stare at him. “She seems like a nice girl, Ger’alin. Not quite what I had hoped for, but nice nonetheless,” the priest said.

“Oh, she’s wonderful,” Ger’alin replied, his voice as warm as new-fallen snow. “So, Outland. If we hurry, we can still catch up to her before she reaches the Dark Portal.”

“What’s the rush?” Zerith asked. “She’s out there with Jez’ral. She can take care of herself. All they’re doing is running some tests or something like that. It’s not like she’s going to be raiding keeps, storming cities, or fighting anything other than boredom. Look, I know you don’t like Jez’ral. I don’t like him either. But he’s not going to get her killed. She’s too valuable to him. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t have hired her to go out there with him.”

“I don’t trust him. What has he got her doing? The last time she went off with him, she got in trouble with the Burning Blade. The man will probably have her trying to sneak up to steal Kil’jaeden’s toenail!”

“Ger’alin…”

“Look, stay here if you want,” the Blood Knight growled, “but I’m going to go request a leave of absence from my teaching duties and head straight for Outland within the hour.”

33

“What about Ta’sia?” Zerith asked, looking confused.

“We’ll bring her along, too,” Ger’alin said, trying to mask his frustration. “Just start packing, Zerith. We’re leaving as soon as I can get it arranged.”

34

Chapter Eleven: On to Outland

“G

ot it!” Alayne shouted in triumph as she hit the portal with a bolt of shade, causing it to lose contact with the Legion’s plane. She and Jez’ral had noticed the demonic portals almost immediately after exiting the Dark Portal into Outland. Callie wiped blood from her hands; they were slick with it from helping Alayne and Jez’ral’s minions hold off the demons guarding the portals while the two warlocks worked to destroy them.

“Same here!” Jez’ral hollered from further up the ridge. “That should slow them for a while. Alayne, get up here and help me catalogue what we’ve found.”

“What do I do?” Callie asked, half-serious, half-rhetorical.

“You can help me collect samples,” Alayne whispered in an undertone as she pulled several vials from her sack. Callie winced and wished she’d kept her mouth shut, but followed the woman up the ridge. Working together, they collected blood, skin, and other samples from the demons they’d slain.

“What do you need this stuff for?” Callie asked Jez’ral as he studied the collections.

“To find out exactly what type they are, what their traits are, and how best to fight or enslave them,” Alayne responded quickly. She knew her teacher could be short with those not initiated into the art of shadow magic. “If we know their traits and weaknesses, we can possibly figure out a way to overcome them or, at the very least, stall them in the event of an invasion.”

“In brief, my dear Forsaken, we need this ‘stuff’ for our research,” Jez’ral said, glaring at Alayne. “Now, we’ve prevented them from getting reinforcements through these gates. Let’s head on to Thrallmar and see if there are any other areas of interest we should visit before we go to check the voidwalker spawning portals.”

The trio walked back down to the road where they had left their mounts and climbed up. Jez’ral heeled his fel steed to a trot, leaving Callie and Alayne in the dust. Alayne made certain her bag of vials was secured before leaping into the saddle. As she was about to ride off, Callie grabbed her by the arm, nearly pulling her off the fiery horse.

“We should have waited for Ger’alin and the others,” the Forsaken muttered.

“I don’t know if they’re coming,” Alayne said irritably. She’d had this conversation with the rogue three times already. “Zerith and Dar’ja may come along later. I know he’s curious about the plant life out here. He wants to visit the Zangarmarsh. Dar’ja will follow him because, well, let’s face it; they’re married and that’s that. I don’t think Ger’alin and Ta’sia will come. She didn’t seem very keen on the idea of visiting Outland or doing research out here when I mentioned it to her last night.”

“What do you think of her, Alayne?”

“She’s nice. I hope she and Ger’alin are happy together,” Alayne said smoothly, ignoring the pangs plucking at her heart.

“She’s not nice,” Callie said flatly. “She’s a…”

“Stop it, Callie,” Alayne said firmly. “She seems like a very nice woman. She told me that you don’t like her. I can remember when you didn’t like me too much at all either.

Just give her a chance and stop being so protective of Ger’alin. He’s a grown man.”

35

“Okay, I’ll give her a chance,” the Forsaken muttered, heeling her horse to a canter.

Alayne followed suit. “Give her a chance to show you exactly what kind of woman she really is,” Callie continued beneath her breath. Within moments, they were pulling their horses to a stop just outside the inn in Thrallmar. Alayne hurried inside and, getting her room key from Jez’ral, went to set the samples away where they would be safe until they were needed.

Hurrying back downstairs, she tossed another key to Callie.

“Second door on the left. I’m the third,” the warlock said quickly as she hurried after Jez’ral. Her former teacher was striding across the small fortified encampment, heading towards the main building.

“Wait out here,” he instructed. “I may be awhile. If you want, there are several pilgrims over there who look like they’d like to speak with you,” he teased in a whisper.

“You should pull the cloak back if you want to catch their attention. Besides, Mir’el would be very upset if you didn’t show off what he got you.”

“I think I felt less awkward before I knew everything,” Alayne said wryly. “I still can’t believe he actually said all of that.”

“Well, he did and he was serious about it too. So, get out there and see what you can do. Otherwise, he’ll start looking for you. Go on, I’ll be taking my sweet time in here,” he grinned, turning away and walking into the compound. Alayne stared after him, shaking her head. She knew that, compared to Ta’sia, she was plain and boring. She didn’t have the other woman’s full lips, perfect face, or confidence. She also wasn’t as feminine and she had worked in a tavern, after all. Still, perhaps if she did follow some of Mir’el’s advice – especially the parts about breathing deeply and pitching her voice lower, she could… A furious blush heated her cheeks. No, he would just think she was even more idiotic than he already did if she tried that. Pulling her cloak tighter around her, she waved to some of the pilgrims who were glancing her way and returned to the inn. Passing by Callie, Alayne muttered something about wanting to get started on a test and hurried up to her room, not giving her friend a chance to offer to help. Closing the door behind her, Alayne slumped against the wall and let the mask she’d been wearing since yesterday morning slip off her face.

“It was nothing,” she tried to convince herself as she sobbed. “It will pass; it must pass! It was nothing at all!” ~*~*~*~ “There it is,” Zerith said, pointing to the fortified town to the north of the huge road.

“If we hurry, we might be able to catch them before they leave. If it is morning yet,” he muttered, glaring up at the crazed sky.

Dar’ja and Ta’sia followed him closely. He’d been surprised that Ta’sia had not been upset at all with Ger’alin for running off like that. He’d been gone from Silvermoon before the others had even had a chance to finish packing. Glancing over at Ta’sia, he thought that the mage must obviously be very much in love with the Blood Knight to not hold his actions against him. “He looks up to her so much,” had been all Ta’sia had said, sounding only slightly wistful. Zerith resolved to talk to the other man as soon as he could. This was no way to treat such a kind-hearted woman. Pulling their mounts to a halt in front of the stables, Zerith saw Ger’alin frantically saddling Lucky and cursing a blue streak.

“Ger’alin!” he called out, making the man jump.

“Trying to catch her can be like trying to trap smoke!” the Blood Knight raged. “I searched all over for her yesterday and never caught a trace! Then, when I came back here, I discovered she, Callie, and Jez’ral were all asleep in the inn! They’d been here the entire time. Now they’re off for Falcon Watch. They left hours ago, apparently. Before first light.”

36

“Ger’alin,” Zerith said in a warning tone. “You and I need to have a talk. But first, maybe you should apologize to Ta’sia for running off like that, without even telling her where you were going.”

“She came with you? Light!” he groaned, clenching his teeth. “I’d hoped she’d have stayed in Silvermoon where she belongs.”

“And miss getting to see Outland?” the mage said indulgently, smiling to herself the whole while. “Besides, I rather like Alayne. She’s such a nice person.”

“Good morning, Ta’sia,” Ger’alin muttered, struggling to remain polite. “I’m sorry about running off like that but…”

“Oh, I understand,” she laughed. “Still…she’s old enough to take care of herself. Did you not stop to think that maybe she and Jez’ral wanted some time to themselves? They seemed to be quite…friendly when I ran across them.” She felt a thrill at the disgusted look on his face while he pondered that. “Of course, they are working together. Perhaps it was just that,” she said, seeing an equally disgusted look on Zerith’s face.

“It had better be just that,” the priest muttered. “I’ll tear that bastard apart with my bare hands if he even thinks about touching her.” Ger’alin winced, just imagining the priest tearing him limb from limb should Zerith find out just how much he wanted to...fire heated his face. He could not let himself be distracted. And, it wasn’t as if Alayne had expressed the slightest interest in him since she’d returned.

Ta’sia sighed in relief. She tucked that information away for later use. Relationships between teachers and students while, discouraged, weren’t unheard of. Especially among the warlocks. Still, it’d been a gamble that paid off. Ger’alin still looked as if he had been suckerpunched. She began to turn her hawkstrider around and caught Dar’ja watching her with a weighing gaze. “Come on,” Ta’sia said lightly, “let’s head for Falcon Watch and see if we can find her for you, Gerry.”

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped as he finished saddling his horse and leapt up. “It’s bad enough when Callie does it but for you to…”

“Ger’alin,” Zerith hissed.

“My apologies again,” the paladin said, sounding truly contrite. “My temper has always gotten the best of me. I thank you for putting up with it.” He forced the bile rising in his throat down when Ta’sia winked at him and smiled tolerantly. Putting up with her until she got bored was going to be almost impossible, he thought to himself as the four of them trotted off to the west towards Falcon Watch. ~*~*~*~ “Any luck?” Jez’ral called out from ahead. The three of them were wading through muck, searching for Arelion or evidence of his demise.

“Ew!” he heard Alayne squeal in disgust. “I think I found him!” Jez’ral waded back to more solid ground and jogged down the path until he was came near to Alayne and Callie.

They were bending over the slime-coated body of a sin’dorei man, wiping the muck and ooze away. “Is this him?” Alayne asked. Her face had taken on a decidedly green tint, either from the slimy swamp water or from nausea, Jez’ral couldn’t tell.

“It looks like him. I wish your brother were here. Is there any chance he could be…”

“No,” Callie muttered sourly. “He’s been dead for several days now.”

“Is that his pack over there in the tree?” Jez’ral asked. He had waded through the muck again and stood over the corpse. Callie trotted to where he pointed and pulled a leather satchel out of the tree. She brought it over to the warlocks. Alayne tore it out of Callie’s hands, desperate to not have to touch the dead man. She began digging through it, her nose

37

wrinkling in disgust when she pulled out a ruined box of chocolates, a slime-covered bouquet of flowers, and then a well-protected journal.

“I think we’ve found his research,” she muttered. “What do you want to do with…him?” she asked, gesturing towards the body.

“We should take him back with us, at least. Callie, grab his feet. Let’s haul him out of here. We’ll load him on your horse. Alayne, go on up ahead and make sure the beast doesn’t get any ideas about bolting.” The warlock and the Forsaken hefted the man’s body and began carrying it as they waded back through the squelching, stinking murk towards Callie’s skeletal horse. Alayne had tethered the animal and, setting the book down on the ground, went around to help them get the corpse loaded behind the saddle. By the time they finished, all three were out of breath and more than eager to be away from the stench. Alayne picked the book back up and sighed as she started to summon her mount.

“Let’s take a little break,” Jez’ral sighed, knuckling his back. “Over there,” he said, waving upwind. The three limped over to the ridge and sat down tiredly. They’d been wading through the thick, viscous muck and were more than ready for a break. “Alayne, let’s see what he learned.” Alayne nodded and opened the book, holding it up on her knees so Jez’ral could read over her shoulder. Callie leaned over the other shoulder, glad to have something to take her mind off the Light-forsaken odor from the swamp.

“That’s not research,” the Forsaken muttered.

“No, but it’s educational nonetheless,” Alayne said, sounding scandalized. “Mir’el could learn a few things from this.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Jez’ral muttered, pointing to a particular passage.

Callie glared at the man and then had to fight a smile when he winked at her, indicating that he was joking. “Hey, don’t turn the pages so fast, speed-reader,” he growled, tapping Alayne lightly on the back of the head.

“Yeah, go back. I wasn’t finished,” Callie tittered. Maybe Alayne’s teacher wasn’t so bad if he had a sense of humor.

“You both need to read faster,” Alayne muttered as she turned the page back.

“Hello over there!” Ger’alin called out from the road. “What are you three doing?”

The trio looked up to see four sin’dorei walking towards them. “What happened to the fellow on your horse, Callie? What are you reading?”

“Research,” Callie said absently, her jaw dropping as she read on.

“What kind of research?” Zerith asked, kneeling down behind Alayne and peering over her head to read. “Oh my,” he laughed. “Dar’ja, come over here and get a look at this.”

Dar’ja walked over and sat between Zerith and Jez’ral, craning her neck over Alayne’s shoulder. “Oh goodness. What kind of research was this person doing and how to you sign up for that job? Oh no, you stay back,” she said, seeing Ger’alin walking up closer.

“Married couples and women only. Ta’sia can come read if she wants.”

“I want to borrow that when you’re done with it,” Zerith whispered to his sister.

“Finders keepers,” Alayne muttered, turning the page.

“Go back!” all of the others shouted at her.

“Read faster!”

“Oh, I want to try that,” Ta’sia giggled.

“So do I. Ger’alin, do you have any rope we could borrow? No reason,” Dar’ja asked.

The other Blood Knight clenched his fist and began grinding his teeth, certain he was the butt of some joke involving his distinct dislike of literary pursuits.

“Light, I’m not sleeping anywhere near any of you tonight,” Alayne grimaced, grinning and winking at her brother’s wife.

“This isn’t funny. What is in there?” Ger’alin demanded, hating the whine in his voice.

38

“Maybe we should let him…” Zerith said, feeling a twinge of pity for the man.

“No. You and Dar’ja are bad enough. Besides, he doesn’t like to read anyway,” Alayne said wryly, closing the book. “We really ought to be getting back to the Magistrix,” she said to Jez’ral. “The woman will probably send a search party out for us if we stay away much longer.” She ignored the protests and the groans from the people crowded around her as she stood up and began to walk far enough away to summon her mount.

“So, Alayne…what’s in that book?” Ger’alin asked, walking over towards her.

“You’ll be nice and tell me, won’t you?”

“Research,” she grinned wickedly, winking over at Ta’sia. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to help you with it.” Climbing on her fel steed’s back, Alayne heeled the horse to a quick canter, desperate to be away before her mask slipped again. She ground her teeth in frustration; it was going to be very difficult to pretend to be happy all the time with both of them out here. ~*~*~*~ “Magistrix Carinda,” Jez’ral said smoothly to the woman who had sent them out looking for sign of her husband or his research. “I’m afraid we have bad news.”

“Oh, Light,” she said breathlessly, seeing her husband’s body being carried up the path by Alayne and Callie. “At least his research won’t die with him; he won’t have died in vain. Let me see his journal,” she said, forcing her features to composure. Alayne blushed but handed the journal over to the woman. “It’s not about research at all!” the Magistrix said, sounding shocked. “I’ve never…oh, how could I have been such a fool?” she moaned. “‘Magical properties of fel-infused slime forms.’ He really had me going there. This journal does not deal with any sort of scholarly studies. It details his escapades with a young female blood elf!” Alayne blinked, looking shocked and disgusted. Callie just shook her head, muttering about the living. Jez’ral looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Unfortunately,” the Magistrix continued, “the floozy’s identity is not revealed in this journal. Aledis, a colleague of Arelion’s, was his best friend and confidant. Go question him and find out who he was having this affair with. I saw Aledis leave Falcon Watch for Zangarmarsh earlier.”

“Of course, Magistrix, of course,” Jez’ral muttered, looking very flustered. “I’m sorry that we were the bearers of such bad news.” Alayne followed after him when he hurried back down the road, looking for Aledis. “That was awkward,” he said. Alayne looked at him as if to say ‘statement of the obvious, genius,’ but said nothing. “I think that’s him,” her former teacher sighed, pointing to a man riding a hawkstrider back towards Falcon Watch. “I’ll just go…”

“No, I’ll take care of it,” Alayne said quickly. “Besides, it will give me a chance to practice.”

“Practice what?” Zerith asked. He grinned when Alayne raised her eyebrows at him, knowing that whatever it was, it would no doubt be entertaining to watch.

“Remember what Mir’el said…” Jez’ral started to say.

“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “Back straight, shoulders up, head high, deep breaths, and husky voice. See? I do pay attention once in a while. Here, hold this for me,” she muttered, taking off her cloak and handing it to Jez’ral. Zerith snickered and Dar’ja began chuckling when Alayne squared her shoulders and began to glide down towards the road, waving to the man on the hawkstrider.

“What is she doing?” Ger’alin asked, trying to sound shocked but more caught up in watching the woman walk. How did she get her hips to sway like that?

“She’s gathering information,” Jez’ral replied dryly. “And she’s doing a good job of it, too, from the expression on Aledis’s face.”

39

“I might need to take a few lessons from her,” Ta’sia murmured. Ger’alin just stared at his alleged girlfriend, muttering beneath his breath. He stiffened when she cuddled up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He suffered her touch knowing that to do otherwise would just get him in more trouble all around. Zerith had already chided him for how he’d been acting. Ger’alin sighed, reminding himself of his resolve to be the perfect gentleman until Ta’sia got bored and lighted on to someone else. Forcing himself to put an arm around her, he kept his gaze focused on Alayne, wondering what she was saying that had the other man smiling like the fox who’d been invited into the hen house. Whatever it was, he would have committed murder to have her speaking with him like that.

“Where did she learn that?” Jez’ral said, sounding stunned when Alayne took Aledis’s hand and, with a twist, threw him over her shoulder and onto the ground.

“Perfectly executed body slam,” Ger’alin breathed. “Light, that was beautiful.”

“Ouch, she’s got him in a headlock now,” Dar’ja winced in sympathy.

“Oh, good one!” Ger’alin cheered when Alayne let the now-unconscious man slump back to the ground. “I thought she’d never learn the trick for that hold,” he explained when the others turned to stare at him. “She never could put me under.”

“She learned that from you?” Jez’ral snorted. “I’m not surprised. Though, I suppose I should offer you thanks or congratulations on such effective teaching. Mir’el will roar when he hears about this. Good work, Alayne!” Jez’ral praised her when she stumped back up to the group. “Very interesting technique.”

“Can I have my cloak back now?” she said, her voice still husky. She even batted her eyelashes before she blushed and broke into laughter.

“I suppose so,” he said wryly, handing it back to her and trying not to laugh when she pulled it back around her shoulders. “You do know that you’ll never catch any eyes if you keep covering up like that.”

“I don’t want to catch any eyes. I want to go figure out who Viera Sunwhisper is and then get on with our research. I’m out here to work, Jez’ral, not to find a mate.”

“Light, woman,” he sighed, “Mir’el will have kittens if he hears you say that. You know how much he wants… All right, you win,” Jez’ral said, raising his hands in surrender at the murderous look the woman was giving him. “Let’s get on with it. The rest of you wait out here. This shouldn’t take long.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral and Alayne returned to the others, giggling and wiping tears from their eyes.

Zerith cocked an eyebrow at them, wondering what was so funny. Jez’ral lifted a hand and then bent over, laughing so hard he couldn’t walk any further. Just as he was winding down and catching his breath, Alayne meowed and he fell to his knees, gasping for air as he laughed so hard the others thought he was losing his mind.

“What happened?” Dar’ja asked, eyeing the pair warily. Alayne grinned but shook her head, saying nothing.

“No more,” Jez’ral begged once he finally calmed his laughter. “You’ll give me a heart attack and then you’ll have to deal with Mir’el without me there to stop him.”

“If there’s a fate worse than death, you’ve just described it,” Alayne snorted, pulling her former teacher to his feet. “So, do you want to continue on, or should I check you into the nearest retirement home?”

“Let’s finish what we had planned for the day. And no more animal sounds.”

“Rawr.”

“Dammit, Alayne!” he said, wheezing as he tried not to laugh.

40

“Warlocks are all insane,” Ta’sia whispered to Ger’alin. For once, the Blood Knight made no comment, beginning to agree with her. Alayne just stood over Jez’ral, hissing and purring, driving the man into ever-increasing fits of laughter.

“Have mercy, woman! I’ll give you a raise if you’ll stop,” he pleaded, rubbing his aching sides.

“Since you asked so nicely,” she said, relenting. Smiling, she summoned her mount and motioned for the others to follow after.

“What was that all about?” Callie asked, trotting alongside Alayne.

“I have been sworn to absolute secrecy about it,” Alayne answered. “Besides, if I tell you, you’ll tell everyone else and poor Jez’ral won’t live long enough to pay me that raise he just promised.”

“You two are strange.”

“We’re warlocks. We’re known for our eccentricities.”

“So, where are you two eccentrics leading us?” Zerith asked, pulling up on Alayne’s other side. Jez’ral hung back, waving off Ger’alin and Dar’ja’s concerned looks whenever he started giggling again.

“Void Ridge. Jez’ral wants to study some of the portals that seem to spontaneously form around there and to the south, near the remnants of the Alliance’s Expedition Armory.

After that, we’re planning to observe the Shattered Hand orcs for a while, if either of us is still conscious,” she sighed.

“What do you mean by that? ‘If either of you is still conscious.’”

“I mean that this is going to be really tiring work. I’m glad you’re here, though. When we thought it would just be the two of us, Jez’ral thought we might have to hire guards to watch our backs while we worked. With all of you here, we won’t have to. You’ll keep the voidwalkers from pounding us into powder while we do our work.”

“Oh, is that all?” Zerith said sarcastically. “How many voidwalkers will we be keeping off you?”

“That’s a good question. You can tell me tomorrow.”

“Alayne…”

“I honestly have no idea, Zerith. They could be attracted by what we’ll be doing or repelled by it. It’s fifty-fifty either way. We’ll either be swarmed or ignored and we won’t know which until it’s too late to do anything about it.”

“Sounds like fun,” Callie said quickly, before Zerith could protest.

“I’m glad you’re so eager to get going,” the warlock muttered. “Because, we’re here.”

Alayne dismounted and waited for the rest to catch up. Jez’ral climbed down and took a deep breath, focusing his concentration and putting the earlier amusement out of his mind. Alayne did likewise and the pair dismissed their mounts. Jez’ral gave a very brief overview of what to expect and then strode off to the south, Alayne following on his heels. Once they were in sight of the shadowy balls of clouds and lightning, Alayne and Jez’ral sat down, leaning against each other’s backs. Summoning fel guards, the pair glanced over at the others. “Let’s begin,” Alayne said simply. Seconds later, she and Jez’ral were staring off into space, oblivious to everything around them.

“Oh, this is not good. Blasted warlocks!” Ta’sia moaned, rolling her eyes nervously and fidgeting.

“Why? What are they doing?” Ger’alin asked her.

“They are messing with things that are best left alone,” she replied sharply. “I don’t know why people tolerate their meddling. Warlocks are nothing but trouble. Ner’zhul, Gul’dan, Medivh…nothing but trouble.”

“Times have changed, Ta’sia,” Zerith said gently, keeping an eye out for approaching demons. “The warlocks of the Horde have foresworn their own selfish lust for power and 41

domination in return for tolerance and protection. I can tell you that Alayne only delves into shadow magic because she hasn’t been able to sense the arcane since the Sunwell was destroyed.”

“While this sounds like a very interesting discussion, sweetheart, I think we might want to pay more attention to those fellows,” Dar’ja said, pointing to four voidwalkers moving north. “They look like the welcoming committee.” ~*~*~*~ Hours later, Dar’ja knelt on the ground, catching her breath. She’d lost count of how many demonic swarms had tried to break through their barrier to attack the warlocks.

Whatever the pair were up to, the shadow beings obviously didn’t like it. Ger’alin stood ahead, poised on the balls of his feet, ready and waiting for another wave. Ta’sia sat behind him, glancing down the ridge every so often but mostly glaring at the oblivious warlocks.

Callie paced a perimeter around the group, keeping an eye to the south. The pair of fel guards flanked Ger’alin, their wicked axes wet with the same mysterious substance that coated her own blade.

“I hope they finish soon,” Zerith sighed, knuckling his back. “That last wave was almost one too many.”

“We’re finished,” Jez’ral said dully, distantly, as if he were not quite back to himself yet. His jet-black hair was slicked to his forehead and his green eyes dull and haggard. He panted and gasped for air as if he had been running a marathon. Leaning against his back, Alayne sighed, lifting her hands to her head and wiping sweat from out of her eyes. The pair were soaked, their sodden robes and hair slicked against them as if someone had up-ended a water bucket over their heads. Shaking, almost unable to move, the pair pushed themselves to their feet and swayed against each other, nearly toppling over several times.

“Still…need…more…” Alayne said, shivering with fatigue.

“I…don’t think…I could…” Jez’ral answered, sounding even more tired than Alayne.

“What…never mind. The only place you two are going is to sleep,” Zerith muttered.

“No!” Alayne protested weakly. Summoning her mount, she stopped, leaning against it for several moments. “We have to, Jez’ral,” she groaned, pulling herself onto the fel steed’s back. “We have to now. If we wait, we’ll lose it.”

“Then let’s go,” he sighed, summoning his own mount. With an effort of will, he managed to climb up on the horse’s back and set out after Alayne at a walk. The others jogged to their own mounts, saddling up and trailing the warlocks closely. Even after all the fighting, none of them looked anywhere near as fatigued as the pair. Alayne and Jez’ral led them back west and south, skirting hostile areas until they came to a place where the landscape was strange even by the unbelievable standards of the rest of Outland.

“Here,” Alayne said, pointing to a spot just a few feet away. Jez’ral nodded tiredly and limped after her. Once again, the pair sat with their backs against each other, quickly lost to the world as they conducted whatever experiment it was that had Ta’sia chewing her knuckle.

“Nothing’s happening,” Ger’alin sighed in relief after a half hour of calm.

“They’re mad, they’re mad, they’re mad,” Ta’sia repeated over and over again. “No one in their right minds would do this…my word…” she said suddenly, brightening. The other sin’dorei felt it as well; something only half-remembered from the earliest days of childhood. The sensation lasted only a few seconds before Alayne broke the calm with the sounds no one wants to hear.

“Uh-oh,” she said, her voice sounding a universe away.

42

“Oh shit,” Jez’ral said in the same tone.

“What…” Ger’alin managed to get out just as a huge voidwalker appeared right over the warlocks. Alayne and Jez’ral scrambled to get out of its way, moving slowly as their minds returned from the Nether. Alayne came back to herself first and turned on her seat, muttering the words that would send the demon back to the Twisting Nether. She grunted when the spell failed, feeling its backwash like a slap to the face that covered her entire body.

Ger’alin ran past her as she took a breath, trying to steady herself enough to cast another spell. Slashing in with his blade, he hacked at the demon, forcing it to expend precious energy just to maintain its shape on this plane. Alayne cast a bolt of dark flame and then began working her hexes, sapping the creature of its strength. She glanced around to see Ta’sia staring at the huge voidwalker in absolute horror. Grimacing, seeing that the other woman wasn’t going to be of much help, Alayne staggered to her feet, moving in closer to cast other spells. Moments later, she lay, staring at the twisted sky, wondering what had happened. Ger’alin lay a few feet away from her, stunned, groping around blindly for his sword.

“It’s behind your head,” Alayne muttered helpfully.

“Did you know they could explode like that?” he asked.

“I do now. Any survivors?” she called out, raising her voice.

“We’re fine back here,” Zerith said, jogging up to the prone pair. “Jez’ral made it out of range as well.”

“I’m sorry, Alayne,” her former teacher sighed. “I tried to banish it before it blew up but…”

“It’s not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. That last probe of mine attracted it and when I tried to pull away, it followed me back here.”

“If I’d been faster, it wouldn’t have blown up,” Ger’alin muttered irritably. “I should have had it down before it destabilized so much. What’s with that look?” he demanded. “Do you think I learned nothing reading over your shoulder so much?”

“It’s not your fault, either.”

“Still I…” “Ger’alin, if you are going to insist on apologizing over something that you didn’t cause, then you can make up for it by carrying Jez’ral back to Thrallmar. Don’t argue with me, either of you. Jez’ral, you couldn’t summon an imp right now and you’d probably pull the others out of their saddles.”

“Like you’re much better,” he muttered sourly.

“I can walk.”

“Only if you want to get back in time to meet Zerith’s grandchildren. You’re exhausted, Alayne. I am, too. I’ll admit it,” Jez’ral sighed.

“Enough of this,” Zerith cut in. “Callie, come over here and see if you can pull Jez’ral up behind you. Ger’alin, you take Alayne. That should get everyone back to Thrallmar without putting too much strain on any of the beasts.”

“I’ll ride with Callie,” Alayne said stubbornly.

“No, you won’t. You would fall off before she’d gone fifteen feet. You don’t have the strength to hold on and ride behind her; Jez’ral, however, can at least stand up so he does have that much strength. Ger’alin, can you stand up?”

“I can. I don’t particularly want to right now, but I can,” the Blood Knight joked as he pulled himself to his feet.

“I’m walking,” Alayne repeated, trying to sit up and falling back down. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be on my feet fine.”

“No you won’t,” Zerith chuckled. “In five minutes, you’ll be asleep.” Bending down, he pulled her up and lifted her off the ground. She was too weak to struggle much, muttering 43

that she could walk or ride with one of the others. “Alayne, be quiet. I made Ger’alin take a bath before we came out here so you’re not going to catch anything from him.”

“Oh, then that’s fine, I guess,” she said, going along with his joke. She even cooperated when he went to pass her up to Ger’alin who had climbed aboard Lucky’s back.

Zerith glanced over to see Jez’ral managing to climb up behind Callie, throwing the Forsaken off balance. With a sigh, he walked over to them, leaving Ger’alin to figure out how to settle Alayne in front of him. Whispering to the Forsaken, the priest traded mounts with her, climbing up and using his weight to keep Jez’ral from pulling him out of the saddle. By the time the two were settled, everyone else had ridden off except Ger’alin.

“I’m afraid to move,” the Blood Knight explained when he saw Zerith’s questioning look. “She’s sound asleep.”

Zerith snorted. “Come on. Easy walk. Just one step at a time.”

“I’ll be along shortly,” Ger’alin grinned. “I want to wait long enough to see if she says anything funny in her sleep.”

“If she does, ask her what she was yammering on about a few nights ago,” Jez’ral muttered. “All we could piece together was something about chocolate and Naxxramas. On second thought, don’t bother,” he chuckled. “It’s more amusing to not know the specifics.”

“Don’t be long,” Zerith said firmly. “She’ll rest better in her room than on the back of a horse. Jez’ral, while I don’t quite hate you as much as I used to, I’d appreciate it if you held on to my shoulders and not my waist. Thank you,” he muttered as he kicked Callie’s skeletal horse to a walk.

“I am so glad you’re out here now,” the warlock said once they were away from the other two. Zerith said nothing, pressing his lips together in irritation. “For her sake.

Something’s been bothering her for days now; something that has her crying herself to sleep every night. She won’t talk to me; I’m her slave-driver. You’re her brother, Zerith. See if you can get to the bottom of this.”

“Any idea what it might be?” the priest asked, setting aside his personal distaste.

“Not a clue. Just that she’ll mutter to herself ‘it’s nothing; it’s really nothing,’ when she starts to lose control of her emotions.”

“Women,” the priest snarled. “It probably is nothing. Dar’ja gets the same way when the days grow shorter. All winter long she has to keep reminding herself that it’s nothing and that spring will be here soon. Sometimes I wonder if being female causes a special kind of insanity; only one that’s guaranteed to drive men up the wall.”

“I wouldn’t know. Just talk to her and see what it is.”

“I will, I will. She’s my sister, after all.”

Back on the ridge, Ger’alin sighed with relief when Zerith rode off. He’d been praying for a chance to be alone with Alayne for days now. Admittedly, he’d hoped she would be awake as well as in his arms. Still, he was content to hold her for now and wish…

He gazed at her sleeping face, and sighed happily. Hugging her to him, he heeled Lucky to a walk, a slow walk, and just let himself enjoy having her close by. “I missed you so much,” he whispered to her. When she shifted and sighed, he clamped his mouth shut, terrified that he had woken her up. Holding his breath until his head swam, he relaxed only when he saw that she had just fallen deeper into sleep. Smiling, he pulled her sweatdampened hair out of her face and nearly giggled with joy when she started babbling incoherently in an undertone. ~*~*~*~ The next morning, Alayne paced in front of the door to her room, debating whether or not she should go down and join the others for breakfast. Her sleep had been filled with 44

dreams and she could still feel herself blushing when she thought about them. She wondered if she had the nerve to go down there and face him or, more importantly, Ta’sia. Snapping her fingers nervously, she stared at the door and resumed pacing. A sudden, rapid knocking on the door startled her out of her anxiety. Jerking it open, she saw Zerith smiled at her.

“Good morning to you, too,” he laughed when she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it. “I see you’re completely recovered from yesterday. I was worried that you might still be tired. Jez’ral’s down there, putting on quite a convincing old-man act.”

“I have got to talk to you before I explode,” she announced. “And if you say anything to anyone except Dar’ja, I will kick you so hard your great-grandchildren will be bruised.”

“I can hardly refuse you when you ask so nicely, Alayne,” he said wryly, pulling a chair out from beneath the room’s desk and sitting down. “So, what is it?”

“I…I…I…” she stuttered, stopping and restarting often enough that Zerith went from amused to concerned.

“It’s not her, is it? Tal’ar’s daughter.”

“Light no! Oh, never mind,” she sighed. “It’s really nothing. If it was, I would tell you about it, Zerith. I just…I’m just being stupid and wishing for things that won’t happen…Oh, but this reminds me,” Alayne sighed, walking over to the closet and throwing it open. Digging into the pocket of her cloak, she pulled out a well-worn journal. “Happy anniversary,” she grinned, handing it over to him. “If you decide to conduct any ‘research’ of your own, please try not to keep everyone awake. Now, let’s go down and see if I need to find Jez’ral a walking stick so we can go get our work done.” ~*~*~*~ “How long are you going to keep this up?” Ger’alin asked the next morning.

“As long as I feel like it,” Ta’sia muttered.

“Look, would apologizing again do anything to convince you to leave me alone?”

“No. I’m not leaving you alone until you’re forced to tell your friends the truth about your vaunted honor, about that night we spent together in Stranglethorn, and have to see the horrified looks on their faces. That, and only that, will be payback for humiliating me!”

“Humiliating you? Wait, Ta’sia, you’re the one who came to me, not the other way around. I’m the one who was drunk and half-asleep. You’re the one who wormed her way into my bed. I didn’t exactly seduce you or even make you think I was interested in you at all!”

“I only did that because of the way you smiled at me that evening.”

“You have to know that I only did that because…”

“I know. And, you know the saying, Ger’alin, about the woman scorned?”

Ger’alin grimaced but said nothing. Ta’sia smiled at the sullen look on the man’s face.

Tormenting him was the most fun she’d had in weeks. Now she could see why A’sara enjoyed tweaking her nose so much. It was fun. She felt a thrill of exhilaration as she imagined the expressions on everyone’s faces once she had forced Ger’alin to tell them what a snake he was. She especially savored the image of Alayne’s face turning to shock and disgust and Ger’alin’s reaction to seeing the woman he loved turn on him. Finding out that Alayne had once been a barmaid and then reminding Ger’alin just how angry the warlock would be to find out that he wanted her the way a man would want a barmaid in his bed was just icing on the cake.

“Good morning, you two,” Alayne said politely, startling Ta’sia out of her reverie.

“How are you feeling, Ger’alin? Not still sore from yesterday, are you?”

45

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I was fine five minutes after I got off the ground,” he laughed.

“Getting knocked down while wearing plate does cushion the blow. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, fine,” Alayne said quickly. “Jez’ral and I are going to go investigate the Outland orcs this morning. After that, we’ll be collecting more samples from the demons to the north of here and in the Pools of Aggonar if our suspicions turn out to be correct.”

“What suspicions?” Ta’sia asked, not liking the way that Alayne’s presence seemed to melt the tension away from Ger’alin.

“We think they’re still tainted by demonic bloodlust,” Alayne explained. “We’ve compared them, from a distance, to Horde orcs and found that the orcs here in Outland are much larger, much more aggressive, and more prone to fits of inexplicable violence than the orcs who follow Thrall. From what we understand, all orcs should have been freed from the blood curse when Mannoroth was slain. Either the orcs in Outland were not, or they’ve been…re-infected…somehow. We’d like to know how and by what agency so we can provide more information on how they could be approached, conquered, or controlled.”

“And what would this information be used for?”

“That is for Lord Lor’themar and Thrall to decide,” Jez’ral cut in. “Come along, Alayne. Callie has volunteered to help us. Let us leave these two alone.”

“Volunteered to help you with what?” Ger’alin asked, starting to rise from the table.

Alayne and Jez’ral each put a hand on his shoulders, forcing him back down.

“Help us spy on the orcs,” Jez’ral said smoothly. “We do not need you today, Blood Knight. Stay here with your girlfriend and keep Zerith and Dar’ja from following us. This is no affair of yours.”

Before Ger’alin could gather himself to protest, the warlocks had swept out of the inn.

He tried to rise again, only to have Ta’sia tangle her hand in his hair, pulling him back down with a strangled grunt.

“If you chase after her all of the time, she’ll begin to think you don’t care for me,” Ta’sia said lightly, her voice thick with false sugar. “And what would that say about you, my noble warrior? What would she think of a man who completely ignored the woman he loves?”

Ger’alin reached up and gently, but firmly, pulled her hand from the nape of his neck.

Glaring at her, knowing she had won this round, he let his weight settle back down on the bench and began wondering just how long it would be before he gave in or went mad. ~*~*~*~ “If you tell us who did this to you, we will let you go free,” Callie growled, pushing her dagger against the orc’s neck far enough to almost draw blood. The orc said nothing, lying still as death.

“If you try to escape again,” Alayne warned, “we will make you beg for death before the end. Tell us what we want to know and no further harm will come to you.”

“I’ll tell you nothing,” the orc grunted, lifting his head, not even wincing when Callie’s dagger drew blood as he pushed against it.

With a sigh, Alayne closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of what she was about to do. Lifting her hands over the orc, she cast a curse upon him. Callie backed away, scooting across the small shack until her back hit the wall. The orc arched his back, twisting and groaning against the chains that bound him. For moments, he writhed, feeling the agony of her curse bite into his flesh. Alayne swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile from rising further in her throat as she forced herself to watch. Sweat beaded on her forehead, running in rivulets down her face, mixing with the tears from her eyes. She hated being forced to do this to any living creature but they had to know: who?

46

“Be…be…betr…,” the orc gasped, his body going flaccid. Quickly, Alayne lifted the curse, gasping when she saw blood spilling from the orc’s mouth.

“Dammit!” Jez’ral growled. “The fool chewed his tongue. This isn’t going to work.

Either they don’t know, or their loyalties are too strong for us to break.”

“What was he trying to say there at the end?” Callie asked.

“I don’t know,” Jez’ral muttered. “Still, I suppose we have enough to draw samples from since that’s all we can get out of them. Remember, Forsaken: speak of this to no one!”

“I’m not in the habit of flapping my tongue,” the undead muttered. Alayne cocked an eyebrow at her, “At least not when it’s important,” she added.

“Alayne, you draw from those two over there. I’ll get the other three. We’ll burn the bodies. Hopefully, no one will be able to figure out anything from the remains.”

Biting back distaste, Alayne did as she was bidden, wishing that they had been able to draw off the blood samples while the orcs still lived. “Will the Warchief be angry should he learn?” she asked.

“I don’t know. He claims lordship over all loyal orcs. However, he hasn’t uttered a word against those who slay traitors to the Horde. Perhaps he would see these orcs that way; perhaps he would see them as wayward brothers. There’s no telling what those green-skins will think from one moment to the next.”

“Jez’ral, we’d better hurry,” Alayne said, glancing out the window. Evening was falling. Night would be coming soon. “Zerith and the others will start looking for us if we’re not back soon.”

“I’m almost finished. You?” “Done.”

“There then. Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, pulling the women along in his wake as he strode out of the abandoned hut. Once they were a safe distance away, he lifted his hands and cast bolts of flames at the interior, continuing until the entire building was ablaze.

“By morning, there won’t be much trace left,” he predicted. “Come along. We’ve still got a few hours left in which to figure out how these fools were tainted.” ~*~*~*~ “Ah, you’re back,” one of the Thrallmar guards muttered when the trio rode back in.

“Nazgrel wants to speak with you.”

“Then let us be on our way,” Jez’ral said dryly, dismounting and walking quickly to the main building. Alayne and Callie followed after him, ignoring Ger’alin and Zerith when they tried to wave the women over to them.

“I want to know what’s going on,” Ger’alin muttered as they passed. Glancing at Zerith, he nodded and the two followed after, careful to keep their distance and seem as if they were just walking around. When the women followed Jez’ral into the main building, the Blood Knight and priest hurried after, careful to stay back just far enough to barely hear what was being said.

“You’ve stirred up quite a hornet’s nest,” an orc was saying, his voice harsh.

“Though you closed down two of the demon gates, there’s a last point left to our north. Our scouts report that demons are pouring through it. They seem to be readying themselves for an assault against Thrallmar. The Warchief will not be pleased with you blood elves if you bring the Legion down on our heads.”

“Then we will go and shut down this gate as well, Nazgrel,” Jez’ral said.

“See that you do. You’ll need help, though. Dozens of powerful monsters have come through already.”

47

Ger’alin stared at Zerith, wondering if the other man was thinking what he was thinking. He didn’t have time to consider it before Alayne and Callie backed right into him, both of them falling to the ground. “Were you…,” Alayne asked, rubbing her knee where she’d landed on it.

“Spying on you? Yes,” Zerith answered, bending down and grabbing them by the arms, hauling them to their feet. “Where have you three been all day?” he demanded when Jez’ral rounded the corner, staring in shock.

“We’ve been working,” Alayne muttered, jerking her arm out of Zerith’s grip. “I told you we would be observing the orcs today. That’s where we were.”

“Dar’ja and I rode out around lunch time to see if we could find you; to see if you needed any help,” Zerith growled. “We rode all the way to Hellfire Citadel and saw no sign of you.”

“We saw you ride past,” Jez’ral lied quickly. “However, we were well hidden and were not going to give ourselves away just to spare you a little boredom.”

“Don’t leave me behind again,” the priest muttered.

“We won’t,” Alayne answered quickly. “Want to come help us shut down a demon gate?”

“I’m coming, too,” Ger’alin snapped.

“Of course you are,” the warlocks both said at the same time. “Alayne,” Jez’ral continued, “go out and see if you can convince the others to come along. The pilgrims. Try what you did with Aledis but leave out the head-lock.”

“Rawr,” Alayne growled, making the other warlock giggle.

“Yes, maybe you should do that,” Zerith said, looking his sister square in the eyes. “It might make you feel a little less…ridiculous,” he continued. Alayne nodded, understanding what he meant. Maybe Zerith was right. Maybe if she could focus her attention on someone else, it wouldn’t hurt her so much to see Ger’alin with Ta’sia all the time. Untying her cloak from around her neck, she handed it to Zerith, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked over to where the sin’dorei pilgrims milled about.

“What is she doing?” Ger’alin asked, sounding strangled.

“Something effective, for once,” Jez’ral replied, clapping the Blood Knight on the shoulder. “Come on; you want to help her fight demons, you get to help her fight demons.

Let’s go see who else we can round up.” ~*~*~*~ “There are two main camps,” Callie reported a short while later. She had snuck up to get a view of the area. “One just has some little demons in it and a few succubi around the exterior. There is one giant monster who keeps a patrol around the camp. He looks like a gnomish engineering experiment gone horribly wrong,” she explained.

“Go on,” Jez’ral prodded. He had a pretty good idea of what they would be facing.

“The other camp, the one to the west, has several large demons in it. They have wings and swords and look like they mean business. There are a couple of six-armed women demons walking about and several dozen infernals. Not to mention those felhound things, as well. They’re all clustered around some gate thing; it looks a little bit like the ones we destroyed when we first got here.”

“Thank you, Callie,” Zerith said. Concentrating on the map she’d drawn, he began to try to formulate a plan. They had only about twenty fighters, mostly magi of one kind or another. He, Dar’ja, and Ger’alin were the only healers available. Ger’alin and Callie were the only ones who could fight in close quarters unless Alayne decided to pick up a sword and change clothes.

48

“The eastern camp is no problem,” Jez’ral said, pointing to the camp Callie had indicated was populated mostly by little demons. “Those little ones are engineers. They maintain the fel cannons on the perimeter. Left to themselves, they’ll run, not fight. If we can take out the succubi and the hulking patroller she described, the others will scatter.”

“And that would tell the others where we were. Not a good idea.”

“Then put most of our force here,” Alayne said, pointing to the area between the two camps. “That keeps them out of sight of the western camp but will create a wall keeping the engineers from running that direction.”

“Okay, so we clear out one camp. How do you propose we clear the other one? The one with the gate?” Zerith asked, not seeing any way to do it without getting a considerable number of them killed.

“We create a diversion,” Alayne answered. “Jez’ral and I will ride into that camp, stir them up, get them to chase us, and the casters will be repositioned here,” she said, pointing to the southern ridge. “We’ll just ride up and down that way, giving the caster groups a chance to pull a few of the demons off our tails while we keep it up.”

“I don’t like that idea at all,” Ger’alin muttered. “It’s too risky.”

“What would you do? Go in waving your sword and bellowing?” Alayne said sarcastically. “That might impress Ta’sia, but it will just get you killed out here.”

“And riding into their midst wouldn’t?”

“Okay, we ride into their midst, get them to chase us, and then set up a decoy down the path. It’s less risky,” Alayne muttered. “They’ll chase after us; we’ll be out of sight long enough to set up the decoys on the horses, and then the heat will be off of us. We’ll go back to the ridge and help you take down the ones guarding the portal.”

“I don’t like it, either, Ger’alin, but it’s better than anything else I can think of,” Zerith sighed. “Just make certain your decoys will work.”

“Oh, they will,” Alayne giggled. Jez’ral stared at her, wondering what she was planning, but said nothing. “Come on, Jez’ral. We need to discuss how to set up the decoys.”

“What do you think she’s planning?” Ger’alin asked after the two warlocks left.

“I have no idea,” Zerith admitted. “But, she’s not a fool, Ger’alin. She may come up with some wild ideas, but she’s no fool. Come on, let’s go see if we can get those idiots out there to understand what they are supposed to do.”

“I doubt that’s possible,” the Blood Knight complained. “Half of them are too dazzled to do anything other than show off.”

“Well, maybe once we explain that getting themselves killed is hardly going to impress her, they’ll listen.”

Just as the sun was setting and night began to fall, the groups lined up in their positions. Ger’alin, Callie, Zerith, Alayne, and Ta’sia strode up the ridge, moving east, keeping their eyes on the huge demon patrolling the borders of the camp. Once he had moved deeper inside, Ger’alin and Callie ran down, attracting the attentions of the succubi and pulling them away from the others. The engineers ignored them; too cowed or too stupid to realize what was going on. Ger’alin shook his head to keep it clear, refusing to let himself be caught in the demonesses’ seductive spell as he slashed in, his blade cutting through their whips and slicing their bodies. The succubi fell easily, if one could ignore their spell long enough to get at them. Jogging back to the others as the hulking demon made his patrol back near them, Ger’alin held his peace as Ta’sia and Alayne hurried past. Alayne was going to attempt to banish the demon; to exile it from this plane long enough for them to scatter the others. If that failed, Ta’sia was to prevent it from reaching either of them long enough for Callie and Ger’alin to take it down.

“And, it failed,” the Forsaken muttered as she saw Alayne jump as if goosed, signaling that her spell had backfired. The huge demon ran after them; the engineers 49

continued their work, only one pair daring to do anything else as they turned the fel cannon they were working on towards the women and opened fire.

“Ta’sia, if you get her killed…,” Ger’alin whispered, seeing the mage start to freeze up. Alayne jogged past the woman, grabbing her by the arm as if to pull her back to the others. Ta’sia wrenched free and, surprising everyone, managed to freeze the giant to the ground long enough for her and Alayne to get clear. “Good work!” Ger’alin shouted as he dashed past, his sword at the ready.

“I did it,” Ta’sia said, feeling triumphant. Alayne nodded at her and took up position just in range of the demon, casting spells to weaken it as Callie and Ger’alin worked it over with dagger and sword. Once the creature was swaying on the verge of falling, Alayne ran back past them, waving her arms wildly and shrieking, scaring the engineers off. The little demons ran wildly, heading north and east, into the hills. “What are they so scared of?”

Ta’sia wondered aloud.

“That is a very effective little trick of hers,” Zerith answered. “She’s used it against me before. If you were close enough to her, all you would be able to sense was a feeling of complete doom that made you want to run as far and as fast as you could.”

“I might like to learn that one,” Ta’sia giggled.

“I’m sure Alayne would be glad to teach you, if you have the talent for it,” the priest said. “And, if we ever see Ger’alin running out of his room in his underwear, screaming in terror, we’ll know it works.”

“Ooh, that sounds positively evil,” the mage laughed.

“It is,” Zerith agreed. “And, from the way he’s been treating you lately, it’d be no more than he deserves. If you want to get him good, just say the word. Alayne and I may not have Callie’s devious mind, but we can be pretty creative when we decide to be. Remind me to tell you about the trick she was planning to pull on the entire Disorder of Azeroth to get back at all of us for harassing Ger’alin back in Desolace.”

“I will,” she promised, grinning. “What are they doing now?”

“Jez’ral and Alayne? Collecting samples, it looks like. You know warlocks; if they come across a demon they haven’t met before, they want to learn everything they can about it. Type, magical affinities, poison properties, history, what kind of food it likes, favorite color…,” “You’re not serious,” Ta’sia laughed. “Favorite color?”

“Fel guards like purple,” Alayne announced as she and Jez’ral drew near.

“Voidwalkers are suckers for honey,” Jez’ral added.

“And succubi love long walks by the beach, chocolates, and men with strong hands,” the two said in unison.

“I see,” the mage giggled. She even spared a genuine smile for Ger’alin.

“Now, let’s get started with the next part,” Alayne said loudly enough for the others on the ridge below to hear her. She watched as they dispersed, re-aligning themselves along the southern ridge to the west. She and Jez’ral summoned their mounts and waited for Ger’alin, Dar’ja, Zerith, Ta’sia, and Callie to move into position before signaling a gallop and riding through the camp.

“Light, let this work as we planned,” Zerith prayed as the pair galloped past.

“It’s working, all right,” Ger’alin growled. Almost all of the demons in the camp began chasing after the pair as they rode back south, making a long loop that would bring them back north in several minutes.

“Then let’s also hope everyone in Thrallmar listened when we said ‘stay inside,’” the priest grinned. “Let’s move.”

The four ran into the now abandoned camp, working their way through the demons guarding the gate. One demon seemed to be in charge of the area, fighting like the fiend he 50

was to prevent them from reaching their objective. Ger’alin and Callie were both knocked flat by the demon’s mighty, sweeping blows. Grinning foully, the creature moved past them, heading towards Zerith and Dar’ja. The woman ran in, her own blade flashing as she pulled it free and slashed through the monster’s guard. Seconds later, she was picking herself up off the ground and running behind the creature, desperate to keep it from reaching her husband and Ta’sia.

Ta’sia gulped when the vile thing continued to creep towards her and Zerith. Pushing the priest behind her, she reached out to the arcane energies that danced in the air and, transforming them into ice, encased the creature’s feet in a block of bone-chilling snow and ice that held it fast, giving the fighters behind it a chance to catch up to it while she readied another spell. Just as she let lose a bolt of frost and began hurling missiles from her fingertips, she saw and felt two bolts of shadow fly over her head, striking the demon on its chest, throwing it to the ground. When she turned around to see who had come to their assistance, all she saw was dust settling from the ridge.

Ger’alin wiped his sword quickly and, checking to see that everyone was uninjured, hurried down the ridge, sliding down and shoving his way through the crowds of casters picking off the remaining demons. “I thought they were going to use decoys!” he shouted, upset when he saw Alayne and Jez’ral being hit by all manner of spells as they continued to ride a circuit in front of the ridge.

“We are using decoys!” Jez’ral shouted, his voice coming from the east. “And, by the Legion, it’s cold out here!”

“Shut up before I warm you with a nice little immolation,” Alayne growled. Ger’alin shook his head and blinked, then dropped his sword and began rubbing his eyes, wondering if he were really seeing what he was seeing.

“Alayne, why are you two standing there in your underwear?” Zerith called down from atop the ridge.

“Decoys! We had to convince the demons we were still on the horses,” she answered, casting another bolt of shadow at one of the infernals a mage had pulled back to the ridge.

“So, well, I summoned my succubus; Jez’ral summoned his fel guard. We tossed our robes over them and jumped off when we went through Thrallmar. It worked, so don’t you dare get angry at me.”

“I won’t,” he laughed, sliding down the ridge and tossing his cloak around her, much to the dismay of most of the sin’dorei males gathered around her, staring at her out of the corners of their eyes.

“I could use something to keep the chill off, too,” Jez’ral muttered jokingly as the last infernal went down. Alayne stifled a laugh when several sin’dorei women flocked around him, eyeing him appreciatively. Jez’ral looked at them, horrified, wishing he had kept his mouth shut.

“I’ll warm you up,” Alayne said suggestively, sidling up to him. He gave her a grateful smile when the others slunk off. “You owe me,” she whispered.

“I know,” he muttered, pulling away. Sending a mental command to his fel steed, he quickly pulled his robe off his fel guard and over his own head. Alayne had done likewise, but was staring at her robe incredulously. “Hm, that looks bad,” he offered.

“Looks like I’ll just have to go back to wearing my old ones,” she said, trying to sound disappointed but unable to hide her relief. “Did you get the gate shut down?” she asked Zerith.

“No. But, the area is cleared so we’ll go do it now,” he replied. Alayne nodded and hurried back up the ridge with him. “I don’t like Jez’ral, Alayne,” her brother muttered in an undertone.

51

“Neither do I; not like that, at least. Mir’el would have both our heads if we even thought about it, though.”

“Wait…Mir’el is a…”

“Yes, he is,” Alayne grinned. “And if you let Jez’ral know I’ve told you his little secret, he’ll skin both of us. Now, let’s get this gate shut down and then get back to the inn.

Jez’ral’s right. It’s cold out here!”

Ger’alin stared at her for a moment, longing warring with jealousy. Her robes were ripped and stretched, revealing more than they should. Sighing gustily and forcing himself to composure, Ger’alin set down his shield and pulled his tabard over his head. Handing it to her, he removed his long cape and draped it over her shoulders, fastening it closed so that she was more decently covered. Then, he let her lead the way up to the gates. As they approached the area, Alayne gasped in shock.

“Stop him!” she shouted, pointing at an orc. The orc was sprinting back towards the massive citadel that dominated most of the area. Ger’alin and the others chased after him but he made it to the wide avenue before they could stop him. Alayne glared after the orc in frustration. They could not move against him without being killed by the watchers on the citadel’s high walls. “We’ll shut down this gate now,” she muttered, “and go after the others before they can muster a force against us.” ~*~*~*~ “Ta’sia, don’t make me ask you to remove your hands again,” Ger’alin sighed. He should have expected this. He should have insisted on separate rooms.

“If you don’t at least kiss me, I’ll explode,” she murmured, grabbing his shoulders and going on the tips of her toes.

“I’m not going to do this,” he repeated, reaching up and pulling her hands away and turning his head. “You’re not yourself right now and I’m not giving you anything else to hang over my head. If you can’t regain a measure of self-control, I’m going back out and sleeping somewhere else.”

“What? Am I that repulsive to you?”

“Honestly? No, you are not. But then, I was only ever attracted to you because I thought you were…”

“Don’t rub it in, Ger’alin,” she muttered sulkily. “But I’ll bet she’s not lacking for company tonight. Did you see the way all of those men were staring at her with their tongues hanging out?”

“That’s not the point,” Ger’alin grimaced, not wanting to recall the scene that had greeted them when they returned. Several of the sin’dorei pilgrims had been hanging about, waiting for the chance to talk to Alayne. The warlock had looked surprised to see the attention she’d garnered. Ta’sia had started pouting then, forcing Ger’alin to drag her over to the inn before she lost her temper, opened her mouth, and got him in hot water.

“Why do you insist on clinging to her? She doesn’t want you, Ger’alin. She has plenty of others trailing after her now,” Ta’sia pouted. The Blood Knight sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. This was such a twisted tangle to be caught in.

“Again, that’s not the point. What she does is up to her. Who she is with is up to her.

Will you please keep your hands to yourself?” he groaned. “Have you honestly never been in a battle to not expect and be able to deal with this reaction?”

“I just want you to…”

“I’m not going to. You try to cool off. I’m going to go take a walk,” he grimaced, turning and putting his hand on the door knob.

“Why won’t you? You’re the only man I know who would pass up this chance.”

52

“Tempting as it may be, I’m not going to,” he said gently. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Ta’sia growled and threw one of the pillows at the door as it closed behind him.

Throwing herself into the padded chair, she kicked irritably at the air. She was not used to this kind of treatment. Always before, where ever she’d gone, she could have had her pick of available men if she wanted them. Now, she had to pretend to be dedicated to one man and he wouldn’t even touch her. Meanwhile, the woman she hated more than anyone else, the woman Ger’alin had confused her with, she had half of the men in Thrallmar wrapped around her finger and the warlock didn’t even seem to notice!

“That’s it!” Ta’sia muttered to herself. “I can’t take this anymore.” Standing up, she opened the door, glanced down the hallway, and, seeing no one, hurried out. Counting from the stairs, she stopped in front of the door to Alayne’s room, scowling when she heard what sounded like the headboard of a bed beating rhythmically against the wall. “Oh, I see,” she growled, raising a fist and beating on the door. “You’d better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there!”

The door jerked open seconds later and Ta’sia’s fist landed on Alayne’s shoulder. The warlock ducked her head into the hallway and, seeing that it was clear, grabbed Ta’sia’s arm and pulled the woman into the room. “What do you think you’re…what were you two doing?” she asked, seeing Jez’ral standing over by the head of the bed. Both warlocks were fully dressed and the sheets on the bed were pulled tight as if it had not been touched since morning.

“We’re even,” Alayne said to Jez’ral. “It’s clear. You can sneak back to your room now.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding relieved. “I apologize for the indignity…”

“Just get off my back about it and tell Mir’el what he wants to hear. I’m serious, Jez’ral. I came out here with you to work, not to find a husband. I don’t care what Mir’el said to you. You just tell him what he wants to hear and leave me in peace.”

“I will.”

“What were you two doing?” Ta’sia repeated after the man had rushed out of the room.

“Pulling ourselves out of the pickling kettle,” Alayne grinned. “When we came up here, there were about ten women hanging around outside the door of his room. I wanted to get rid of the six guys following me, so I grabbed Jez’ral – you should have seen the horrified expression on his face, it was priceless – I grabbed him and hauled him in here, shouting down to the others that I preferred experience and wisdom or something like that, slammed the door, and told him that I would help him scare his admirers off if he helped me get rid of mine. We banged the bed against the wall until we thought we’d heard them leave and then kept it up for another five minutes until you banged on the door. I was afraid you’d go get Zerith and that would have just been awkward,” Alayne laughed. “So, what did you want me for?”

“I was looking for Ger’alin.”

“Why would you be looking for him in here?” Alayne asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“I just thought he might have come to talk to you. We just had a bit of an argument.

Lovers’ spats, you know how it is. Though, I am getting tired of him ignoring me all the time.

There are times when I wonder why I stay with him. Maybe he’s with Zerith or Callie.”

“He’s not in Zerith’s room,” Alayne said slowly. “And knocking on their door would be a bad idea right now. They like to…celebrate…their victories,” the warlock said, blushing.

“Callie said she was going to take a walk and try hunting hell boars. She left just after we got

53

back. Do you want me to talk to Ger’alin for you? If he’s ignoring you, someone should talk to him.”

“The man is incorrigible, Alayne. We’ve fought about this often enough before now.

I’m beginning to see that the other women – what? You didn’t know about that? They told me he was more in love with adventuring than he ever would be with a woman. I guess I was just fooling myself to think I could ever hold his attention. He doesn’t care about me anymore. Sometimes I wonder if he ever did or if, like others, he just wanted…well, never mind,” she sighed, then forced herself to smile warmly, sadly, “Good night, Alayne,” Ta’sia said, turning and leaving the woman’s room. She smiled, savoring the stricken look on the warlock’s face. Just a few more days and Alayne would probably never talk to Ger’alin again. While it wasn’t the exact revenge she wanted, Ta’sia was willing to settle for what she could get. Keeping up the matronly act was wearing thin already. Striding through the inn’s main room, she turned her head at a familiar sight. Ger’alin was seated at the bar, lifting his head only to slam down a drink. She stared at him, wondering if this was his idea of a walk.

Biting her lip, torn between going outside to find some company or watching Ger’alin torment himself, she walked over to the bar. She could always find someone later.

“Leave me alone,” he said when he saw her. “I’m not in the mood for any’shing right now.”

“What has you so upset?” Ta’sia muttered, taking the stool next to his and ordering a cup of wine-punch. Ger’alin looked absolutely miserable and, in spite of her personal feelings, she recoiled from him, wondering what had happened to him in the past few minutes.

“Nothing. Ever’thing’s perfec’,” he slurred. “She’s up there with shomebody and that’s just dandy. Heard them as I walked pasht. Ye were right about dat.”

“Well, you don’t have to be alone,” Ta’sia said, moving closer to him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, his face in his hands. “I’m going to sleep,” he sighed, sliding off his stool and stumping upstairs.

Ta’sia watched him go and sighed. Glancing around the room, she saw several sin’dorei men smiling at her welcomingly. “Well, if Ger’alin doesn’t want to…,” she muttered to herself, “might as well not waste the night for him.”

54

Chapter Twelve: Storming the Citadel

A

layne slunk down the stairs of the inn the next morning feeling exhausted.

She hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, spending the night crying and feeling horribly guilty. When Ta’sia had said that she and Ger’alin had had an argument, Alayne had felt as if she were soaring, hoping that they would fight and the mage would leave. She’d squashed the feeling almost immediately and had spent the long night berating herself for wishing such a thing. “I wish they’d go back to Silvermoon where they could be happy where I don’t have to see it all the time,” she muttered.

“Who could be happy?” Callie asked, sitting next to the warlock.

“Oh, never mind,” Alayne sighed.

“I never do. What’s bothering you, Alayne? Who do you want to be happy?”

“The whole bloody world,” she grumbled. “Go up and get Jez’ral, would you? The sooner we take care of the orcs in the citadel, the better. Nazgrel is not going to be happy if we leave that particular wound festering.”

“What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m tired and cranky. I didn’t sleep well. Zerith and Dar’ja,” she muttered, hating herself for lying but knowing that if she told Callie the truth, she’d dissolve into a heap of tears and melt away.

“Ah. I’ll be right back down with Jez’ral, then. I’m assuming you’re going to take the pilgrims who came with us last night?” Alayne nodded sullenly. “I’ll round up Zerith and Dar’ja and Ger’alin and Ta’sia as well, then.”

“No,” Alayne muttered. “Leave Ger’alin and Ta’sia out of this.Zerith and Dar’ja as well. We’ll have more than enough fighters with the pilgrims.”

Callie opened her mouth to argue but a glare from Alayne cut her off. Shrugging, the rogue decided to let it lie for now. More likely than not, the four would follow after in short order. After all, Alayne was hardly going to be able to keep this a secret. Callie wished that she’d had time to return through the Dark Portal and rally the Disorder of Azeroth. Still, perhaps Alayne was right to keep the others out of it for now. The woman seemed to have something preying on her mind that she needed to work out and Callie had a feeling that it had to do with Ger’alin and Ta’sia. She woke Jez’ral and led him down to the inn’s common room where Alayne was sketching out what she knew of Hellfire Citadel.

“Where is everyone else?” he asked, seeing that the room was virtually empty.

“Asleep,” Alayne answered tiredly. “Battle plus victory equals celebration leading to sleeping in.”

“You sound like you could use some ‘sleeping in,’” Jez’ral said, glancing down at her.

“I’ll sleep later,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

“Without the others? My dear, we may need…” Alayne shot him a disgusted glare that made him take an involuntary step backwards. “Okay, without the others,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “You should leave a note for them, though, so they won’t think we’ve run off to parts unknown.” Alayne grunted and then walked over to the innkeeper’s desk. Scribbling a quick note, she folded it in half and put Zerith’s name on the outside.

55

Dusting her hands and looking expectantly at her patron, she waited to see if he had anymore busywork for her to do before he quit stalling and got on with it. “Maybe you should go say hello to…”

“Jez’ral,” she interrupted, “I still know how to use a sword and I will give you a demonstration by cutting you into tiny pieces which I will then proceed to jump on while wearing those abominable heeled boots Mir’el gave me if you don’t get outside, summon your fel steed, and follow me to the Pools of Aggonar without saying another word in the next fifteen seconds.”

“Zerith and Dar’ja,” Callie explained as the woman stormed out of the inn.

“There’s more to it than that,” Jez’ral whispered. “I could hear her crying all night long.”

“Crying? I wonder what she was crying about. Do you think whoever she was with last evening…,” “She wasn’t with anyone,” he blushed. “That was both of us getting rid of attention neither of us wanted. She’s made it pretty clear to me that she’s not interested in catching any attention regardless of what Mir’el wants.”

“Oh,” Callie grinned.

“Are you two coming or should I just go ahead and do this by myself?” Alayne snapped angrily. “Never mind,” she muttered, heeling her fel steed to a gallop and leaving them coughing in her dust. ~*~*~*~ Alayne studied the citadel from the rear, wondering just how they were going to manage to get inside without having to fight a small war to gain entrance. The pilgrims she’d gathered from Thrallmar and Falcon Watch were content to let her study the problem in silence. For a moment, she wished she had let Callie get Ger’alin or Zerith. Either of the men were better at figuring out how to storm a keep than she was. This was not anywhere near as simple as Shadowfang Keep had been. The citadel had several entrances. All she wanted to do was to keep the orcs inside from being able to move against them for a time. Still, taking control of the citadel would be a strategic gain for the Horde… …only, it seemed virtually impossible without an army.

“This is not going to be easy,” she muttered.

“Alayne!” one of the pilgrims shouted, pulling the warlock from her thoughts. She turned to see what the commotion was. The man gestured to her and she walked over to the hill. Laying there was the corpse of an orc outrunner. Had they been lucky enough to have the one who escaped die before he could report that the demon gates were closed? Studying him, she grimaced. The orc was smaller than the one she had seen. He looked strong but less powerful than his brethren. Wincing as she turned the corpse over, she noted that he bore emblems in keeping with a more shamanistic bent. The orcs she, Jez’ral, and Callie had captured had carried idols of demon worship. Whoever it was, this orc was not one she had seen before.

“Uh-oh,” the pilgrim muttered, jerking Alayne from her thoughts.

The warlock glanced up and groaned. A progression of orcs was making its way down the rocky hillside near the Alliance outpost at the Temple of Tel’hamat. Alayne moved to stand in front of her group, making it clear that if the orcs wanted to speak to anyone, they would have to speak to her. The orcish procession ignored the sin’dorei though a few spat at them. Instead, they seemed interested in the corpse laying on the hillside.

“Did you kill our brother?” the orc in lead of the procession demanded angrily.

“No,” Alayne said. “He was dead when we got here.”

56

“Why are you here? Have your people not done enough?”

“My people have done nothing to yours,” Alayne replied. “We have come to Outland to study it. The Warchief of the Horde…”

“A tainted blood-drinker!” the orc spat angrily.

“Thrall is no such thing!” Alayne roared. “He’s a strong leader for his people and he has offered protection to those who are willing to abide by his ways.”

“Thrall?”

“Thrall, son of Durotan of the Frostwolf Clan. He was a friend to Grommash Hellscream who broke the demon-curse on his people.”

“Then he is one of the untainted,” the orc mused, “and a friend to you, if your defense of him is true. Come with us, then, and tell us why you watch the tainted ones in their twisted citadel.” ~*~*~*~ “We do not know how our brothers were tainted,” the chieftain of the Mag’har said.

“We only know that they were promised great power for drinking the blood of demons once more. Those of us who refused this ‘gift’ were cast out. Our leaders in Nagrand sent us here to watch over the fel orcs and their twisted citadel. We do not want war, but we fear that war will come once again.”

“Who leads the orcs in the citadel?” Alayne asked.

“Kargath Bladefist is the one they have chosen as their Warchief. He makes his home inside the Shattered Halls.”

“And if he were dead?” she pressed.

“If he were dead, then the fel orcs would have only their stronghold in Shadowmoon Valley. They would pose no threat to us. Would you destroy them, then?”

“With your help, I believe we can,” Alayne agreed.

“Then you will have our help. If you prove to be worthy allies, I will send word of you to our leaders in Nagrand.”

Alayne sat back and relaxed a bit. She had not been involved in the negotiations with the centaur in Desolace, but she felt as if she had done well here. Without Ger’alin or Zerith, she had been able to convince the reluctant orcs of Outland to help her clean out Hellfire Citadel. With it firmly in Horde hands, the Alliance could not threaten them. And, by clearing out these fel orcs, Alayne might have the chance to find one who did know the name of the demon used to taint so many. To her side, she could hear Jez’ral muttering skeptically. He obviously thought the idea of heading into battle right away was too risky. But, if they gave the fel orcs time to gather…

“When will you move against the fel orcs?” the Mag’har asked.

“Is an hour too soon?” Alayne replied calmly. The orc stared at her in amazement before laughing.

“An hour will be fine.”

“Alayne,” Jez’ral said in Thalassian, “Zerith and the others…”

“Are probably still asleep,” she replied in the same tongue. “We can handle this.

Besides, you didn’t really want them out here to begin with.”

“That was before…” Jez’ral said to himself. It was clear his student was not going to be budged from her position. Instead of arguing with her, he sighed and decided to try to work with her. Perhaps it was for the best if the others returned to Silvermoon sooner rather than later. “Or perhaps it would be best if we could get to the bottom of whatever it is that’s weighing on your mind,” he grimaced beneath his breath. Alayne stood across the room, giving directions to the pilgrims who had followed them. “At the very least, it might make 57

living with you a trifle easier. But, have it your way, for now. Of course, if they come after me this time,” he promised her silently, “I’m blaming this one all on you.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith wondered at the sounds coming from Ger’alin’s tent. He knew himself that not everyone would do things in the proper order but he’d always thought more of the paladin than that. Still, it wasn’t as if Ger’alin were under his command. Deciding that the other man wasn’t going to be joining them for breakfast, Zerith headed back into the inn, wondering just why the town was so deserted this morning.

“There you are,” Ger’alin said as he came down the stairs. “Where is everyone?”

“Wait,” Zerith said slowly. “You’re here.”

“I am. I got drunk last night and wound up sleeping in Callie’s room. She stayed over with Jez’ral.”

“But if you’re here, then who’s out there?”

“Out where? The town is virtually deserted this morning.”

“There is someone in your tent.”

“Oh Light. I’d forgotten that I’d left it up. Probably just a couple of people who wanted some private time to judge by the blushes on your face.”

“I thought you were out there…”

“Oh. Well, I’m not. Let me go see who has borrowed my tent for their extracurricular activities and then we can be off to figure out where everyone is. The inn is empty.”

Ger’alin walked out to his tent to see who was using it. Zerith followed him. As the men drew near, Ger’alin’s face pulled into an angry scowl as he recognized one of the voices.

Just how was he going to explain his way out of this one? He started to say something to the priest, to get him to go back to the inn so Ger’alin could try to salvage the situation.

The cries from within the tent faded and Ger’alin began wondering if the blush would ever leave his face. Before they could start up again, he tapped on the outside of the tent. “I’d like my tent back now, thank you,” he said loudly. He turned to lead Zerith back to the inn, not wanting to deal with the confusion. However, the priest was staring daggers at the tent.

Obviously Ger’alin wasn’t the only one who had recognized the voice inside.

“What is going on here?” the priest demanded, outraged.

“It’s a complicated situation that I’m sure is entirely my fault,” Ger’alin sighed.

“If she’s in there with someone else, then that’s not your fault.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll find some way to blame it on me,” the paladin muttered bitterly.

“What is going on?” Zerith demanded angrily. “Something about the two of you does not fit right. I want to know the truth and I want to know it now!”

Ger’alin took a deep breath and tried to organize the story in his mind. However, at that moment, Ta’sia poked her head out of the tent and yelped when she saw Zerith and Ger’alin staring down at her. The priest’s outraged expression turned into pure anger and he clenched his fists at his sides, quivering as if he were ready to beat both of them senseless.

“Ta’sia, why don’t you get out here and tell him the truth about us?” Ger’alin suggested mildly.

“I was drunk,” she said lamely. “I was drunk and lonely and I did something stupid and I’m so sorry,” she continued, working up a good sob.

“I don’t care how drunk you got,” Zerith started to say.

“Neither do I,” Ger’alin said calmly. “Especially since I’ve never been involved with her to begin with. She can sleep with whomever she desires. It’s no concern of mine.”

“What?!” Zerith shouted. “Someone had better explain this to me and I mean now!”

58

“She lied to you,” Ger’alin continued. “She and I ran into each other in Stranglethorn Vale – that’s true. I was drunk and I was pretty torn up about Alayne being dead. When I glanced over at her,” he pointed at the mage, “I thought that she was Alayne. I smiled at her – it must have been one hell of a smile – but when I realized it wasn’t Alayne, I was as courteous as I could be considering I was drunk.”

“So, she made up a whole relationship over that?” Zerith asked skeptically. There was clearly more to the story than that.

“She made up the relationship because, even after I courteously turned her down that night, she snuck into my bed while I was sleeping, woke me up, and was upset that I couldn’t remember her name and that, come the next morning, once I sobered up, I expressed no interest in a repeat performance.”

Ta’sia pulled herself out of the tent and glared at Ger’alin. “Tell him what really happened,” she snarled.

“That is what really happened,” he said calmly.

“Tell him what you called me.”

“A tramp.A trollop. A few other choice names that while, not polite, were not inaccurate.”

“Get out,” Zerith said, glaring at Ta’sia. His teeth were clenched like his fists. “I should have known…Callie didn’t like you…and something about the way you acted told me that…get out of here,” he snarled.

Ta’sia stared at the priest in amazement. It wasn’t supposed to go this way! She opened her mouth to tell Zerith what Ger’alin had left out but the priest turned and stormed back into the inn. Ger’alin winced as the door slammed behind Zerith and began to wonder just how much trouble he was going to be in for letting this drag on as long as it had. “Go on back home, Ta’sia,” he said softly. “You’ve caused enough trouble here.” Then, not giving the woman another chance to argue, Ger’alin squared his shoulders and returned to the inn, preparing himself for another confrontation. ~*~*~*~ “I can’t believe we fell for it and that you let it drag on so long,” Zerith muttered angrily once he calmed down. Ger’alin shrugged uncomfortably. “Why did you let us think what we thought?”

“I had already embarrassed her enough,” the paladin muttered. “I was hoping she’d just pretend to break up with me and leave. I was trying to help her save as much of her dignity as I could. Granted, I don’t like the woman at all but…”

“Where is everyone else?” Dar’ja asked, changing the subject.

“That’s what I was wondering,” Ger’alin said, glad of the new topic. “Even the pilgrims are gone.”

“Maybe they went over to Falcon Watch,” Zerith suggested, growing calmer. He tried to think of what Ta’sia had done as just another prank. A very disturbing prank, but a prank nonetheless. “We should probably head that direction to see for ourselves. I wonder why they didn’t wake us to come with them.”

“Alayne and Jez’ral are probably doing some research and couldn’t be bothered to wait on us,” Dar’ja chimed in. “After all, they are out here on official business, not just to take in the scenery.”

“So, let’s get going,” Ger’alin said, rising from the table. “Oh, and please let me explain this to Alayne myself. I know she thinks that Ta’sia is wonderful and will be understandably upset about the whole thing so I’d rather she not know everything.”

59

“I’ll be more than happy to leave that explanation to you,” Zerith offered. “But, we’d better go see what they’re up to before they decide to leave us cooling our heels here in Hellfire Peninsula while they take care of their ‘official business.’”

“By the way,” Ger’alin asked, affecting an air of carelessness, “what is going on with Alayne and the new robes?”

“Oh, those were gifts from Mir’el, apparently. He really wants her to settle down. I think he’s hoping that if she finds a husband, she’ll stay in Silvermoon. He and Jez’ral are both oddly protective of her.”

“I see,” Ger’alin said evenly. “Well, let’s go get caught up to them.”

The three saddled their mounts, packed their gear, and then set out down the road towards Falcon Watch. As they drew near to Hellfire Citadel, Ger’alin signaled a halt and stared at the citadel walls. His ears pricked forward to catch the sound better and he began growling softly. “What is going on?” Zerith asked, concerned.

Before Ger’alin could answer, one of the pilgrims who had helped out with the attacks against the demon camps came running up. “Help us! Help us!” he shouted. “They’ve been captured!”

“Who’s been captured?”

“Alayne, Jez’ral, and Callie. They were trying to draw Kargath Bladefist out of the citadel so we could assassinate him but they were surrounded and captured instead. The Mag’har are doing their best to help us reach them but we need all the assistance we can find!”

“Ride like hell for the Dark Portal,” Ger’alin said calmly. “Once you’re through, head to Undercity and ask after Davril. Tell him that Ger’alin and Zerith said to gather the Disorder of Azeroth and bring them to Hellfire Peninsula as soon as he can.”

The pilgrim nodded dully and ran to obey. “What are we going to do while we wait for the others to get here?” Zerith asked.

“We’re going to go get them out of there. And then, I’m going to wring Alayne’s neck for this.”

“So am I,” Zerith muttered, anger masking the worry, “so am I.” ~*~*~*~ “I agree with you now,” Alayne muttered sullenly. “It was a terrible idea. Zerith’s going to wring my neck for this.”

“I told you we should have waited for them,” Callie replied. “But no, you had to go attack Hellfire Citadel right away.”

“I never thought I’d wish that they had left us gagged,” Jez’ral growled. “If the two of you don’t stop complaining and start helping me figure out how we’re going to get out of here…” he left the threat hanging in the air.

“They’re going to change the guard soon,” Alayne said after a lengthy silence. “That will be our best chance.”

“Best chance for what?” Callie asked.

“Best chance to break out of here. Jez’ral, would you prefer subtle or strong?”

“Judging by the size of our captors, strong is the way to go.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“What are you two talking about?” Callie demanded.

Alayne gestured for silence. She listened intently for the door to open and the next shift of guards to enter. The confusion of the change in shift would be the best chance they had to break free. Mentally, she readied her spell and felt Jez’ral doing the same. Luckily for them, the guards were warriors. Had a single mage or warlock been amongst them, Alayne’s 60

plan would be doomed to failure. The door finally opened, creaking on hinges that had not been oiled in years. Alayne began to cast her spell but stopped as the sounds echoing down the hallway reached her. She placed a hand over Jez’ral’s mouth, silencing him, and groaned when she realized what was happening.

The door to their cell opened and Ger’alin was thrown in. The man looked far worse for wear. Bruises covered his face and his hair was matted with blood. He dragged one of his legs as if it were injured and his arm dangled limply. Before Alayne could act, the door was slammed shut again. She scrambled over to Ger’alin and turned him over. His eyes glared at her, boring through her face and making her flush in anger and sorrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Breaking you out of here,” he muttered sullenly, sitting up and straightening his arm.

“You look terrible,” Callie said, studying him. “What happened?”

“Pitch, clay, and a little play-acting,” he grinned, wiping at his face. He had to scrub hard to remove the bruise. Turning to Alayne, he forced himself to look calm. “The only reason I’m not wringing your neck is because your brother called first shot on that. Why in the name of the eternal sun did you just run off and leave us while you attacked an orc stronghold?”

“Because it was Jez’ral and I who created this mess so it’s up to us to clean it up,” Alayne snapped. “And, while your rescue attempt is welcome, we were just about to get ourselves out of here.”

“How might you be doing that?”

“Watch and learn,” she grimaced. Down the corridor, she could hear Ger’alin’s captors speaking with the other guards. They were preparing to take over the watch. Now was the time. Nodding to Jez’ral, she cast her spell and then grinned as she sensed a massive infernal forming outside their cell. Focusing on forcing her will on the being, she set it to attack the guards. Meanwhile, Jez’ral focused his spells against the cell-door, melting the metal hinges until they weakened enough that he could kick the door down. By the time the four were out in the hallway, only the infernal remained. Alayne renewed her hold on it and then peered the way they had been brought.

“It’s not very far to a window,” Ger’alin said. “Zerith and a few others are watching for us to signal them.”

“No,” Alayne replied. “We came here to do something and we’re not leaving until it’s done.”

“And what is that?” Ger’alin muttered angrily. He reached over and grabbed Alayne by the arms, turning her until she faced him. “What is it that you need to do that’s more important than getting out of here and waiting for the rest of the Disorder of Azeroth to arrive so we can clear this place out and turn it over to the Horde?”

“I need to kill the fel orc Warchief,” she said simply, freeing herself from his grip. “If you want to leave, that’s fine. I’m sure Ta’sia is worried about you. But I’m not leaving until I’m done here. Come on, Jez’ral,” she ordered, walking briskly down the corridor. “Let’s go.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin wanted to argue with Alayne but he had to admit the woman had a point. If they killed the orc who the other tainted orcs followed and then turned the fortress over to the Mag’har, the untainted orcs, then they would gain allies here in Outland and would earn the respect of the Horde on the other side of the Dark Portal. Not only that, they might stop the demonic invasion taking place in Hellfire Peninsula. At the very least, they’d slow it substantially. Even if the plan was insane, it still had its good points.

Callie eyed the man up and down. “Where is Ta’sia?” she whispered.

61

“Gone,” he grinned. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“What did she do?”

“Zerith caught her in my tent with one of the strapping pilgrims she met last night. I told him the whole story and explained why I’d let it go on so long.”

“So, he knows that you…”

“That I’m such a gentleman that I let her make me miserable for a chance to save her dignity,” he replied smugly. “He has no idea about the other and I’m hoping to keep it that way. Especially since it seems that she hates me right now.”

“She doesn’t hate you. She’s angry at herself.”

“Could have fooled me,” he muttered. Up ahead, Alayne and Jez’ral had come to a halt. Down one hallway, they could hear the sounds of combat. Down the other, nothing.

Alayne tapped her chin thoughtfully before turning and heading directly for the fighting.

Ger’alin followed her, trotting to keep up. Alayne kept the pace up, following a twisting stairwell and then stopping so suddenly at the top that Ger’alin ran into her.

“What?” he hissed angrily.

“I am called Bladefist for a reason,” a deep, maniacal voice chuckled. “As you will soon see.”

Reaching behind her and shoving Ger’alin to the side, Alayne ordered her infernal to rush ahead and block the doorway that led into the arena. Jez’ral, seeing what she was doing, commanded his fel guard to join the infernal while the warlocks hurried to join the demons, sending their spells through the gaps. Jez’ral shouted something that Alayne seemed to understand and then the woman stopped casting her own spells at the scythe-fisted Warchief and instead focused on the demons. Ger’alin craned his neck, wishing he could see what was going on. He could tell that the Warchief was trying to fight his way past the demons and that dozens of warriors were lining up to join him. The two warlocks were doing well, preventing the orcs from reaching them. Ger’alin wondered just how they were keeping the demons under control and shielded. Then, he noticed what the effort of doing just that was doing to Alayne. The woman’s face had grown haggard and she looked as if she had not slept in weeks. Sweat poured down her face and she panted, trying to draw in enough air to keep going. She swayed unsteadily on her feet. Ger’alin knew that warlocks could use their demons as a linked shield of sorts, redirecting any injury inflicted on them onto the stronger demon. It seemed as if Alayne had reversed that and was instead taking the injuries so that the demons could keep blocking the path.

“Almost done,” Jez’ral shouted hoarsely. “Just Kargath left!”

Alayne’s knees buckled and the infernal vanished. The fel guard did not last much longer under the fel orc’s onslaught. Before the crazed Warchief could turn on Jez’ral, Callie and Ger’alin rushed him, shoving him over the pile of bodies that had stacked up at the mouth of the arena. Swinging and slashing, they cornered Kargath and, within minutes, slew him.

Leaving the axe and shield with the fallen fel orc, Ger’alin walked over to see how Alayne and Jez’ral had fared.

Jez’ral sat, his back against the wall and his head thrown back sucking in air as if he had been strangled. His eyes were closed and sweat beaded on his forehead. Alayne lay where she had fallen. She had not moved. “Alayne?” he asked softly. “Alayne?”

“She’s out cold,” Jez’ral panted. His voice was hoarse as if he had been shouting.

“She drained herself to keep the demon guards alive and functioning for as long as she did.

She’ll need to sleep for a while and then eat something instead of moving it around on her plate and she’ll be all right.”

“I see,” Ger’alin said blankly. “Do you think you could make it back to the others with Callie? I think the fortress is cleared.”

62

“I can manage that much,” the warlock muttered. “Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath.”

“Then let’s get going,” Ger’alin said, pulling Alayne into his arms and carrying her out of the fortress. ~*~*~*~ “I’ll let you off this time,” Zerith said severely though his smile betrayed his true thoughts. “But, only because you actually pulled it off.”

“Thank you,” Alayne said tiredly. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. “He’s afraid I’m going to run off again, isn’t he?” she muttered, pointing at Ger’alin. The paladin was leaning against the wall, snoring softly and occasionally babbling in his sleep.

“He’s been worried about you,” Zerith said slowly. “I’m not sure why. After all, you’re such a rational and level-headed woman.”

Alayne rolled her eyes at the obvious sarcasm. “I need to move around a bit. I’m stiff as a board.”

“I suppose you can take a walk around Thrallmar,” Zerith said tolerantly. “Just don’t go running off again.”

“I won’t,” she promised. In truth, she needed to get out of the room with Ger’alin before she started sobbing. “Where is Ta’sia? I’m sure she would not be happy to hear that he’s decided to camp out in here with me instead of being with her,” Alayne sighed, pointing at the paladin.

“Ta’sia is…no, I promised I would let Ger’alin explain that to you.”

“Explain what to me?” Alayne asked, feeling her stomach clench and her palms grow clammy.

“Let me put it this way,” Zerith sighed, “Ta’sia is no longer concerned with where Ger’alin sleeps.”

Alayne tried to decipher what her brother might mean. Fearing the worst, she nodded blankly as if she had understood and then walked out of the room. Pulling her cloak tight around her and muttering to herself about where Jez’ral might have found another set of robes that was only slightly better than the ones she’d been forced to discard, she began making a circuit of the Horde settlement.

The town was quiet though the subtle thrum of celebration hung in the air. The Mag’har orcs had spoken with the forces gathered under Nazgrel and were preparing to send an emissary to Thrall in Orgrimmar. The Mag’har were impressed by the short work that the Horde had made of taking Hellfire Citadel. While Alayne and the others had been escaping confinement in the Shattered Halls, the Mag’har and the remaining pilgrims had managed to take control of the ramparts and the Blood Furnace. There was still a basement wing that no one had been able to penetrate yet. A strong warding had been placed over it by the fel orc warlocks. For now, a guard had been put in place to ensure that no one entered or left the basement.

As Alayne made her circuit of the town, she wondered why she didn’t just take Jez’ral and leave. After all, with the fel orcs defeated, it seemed unlikely there would be a need for the Disorder of Azeroth. Ger’alin and the others could return to Silvermoon and their lives while Alayne and her teacher completed their research. Perhaps by the time they returned, Ger’alin and Ta’sia would have left.

As if thinking of the woman had summoned her, Ta’sia stepped out of the shadow of the large building that dominated the town. She had been laying low, waiting for a chance to approach Alayne. She’d heard all about the attack. She wondered what, exactly, Ger’alin 63

might have told Alayne. If he had come clean with the warlock, then Ta’sia’s plan stood little chance of working. However, given how timid the man seemed, she thought that perhaps she still had a chance to ruin this for him. After all, he’d humiliated her several times now. He deserved a bit of pay-back.

“Hello, Ta’sia,” Alayne said politely. She felt awkward. Zerith had told her that Ger’alin wanted to explain something about Ta’sia. Ger’alin, however, had been asleep when she woke up. “Did something happen?” she asked, taking the wolf by the ears.

“You could say that,” Ta’sia said softly. “I can’t compete with you, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Alayne asked, her mouth dry.

“I mean that your little game is over. You win. You keep dragging him into danger.

You keep taking him away from me. Don’t stand there and pretend I’m an idiot, Alayne.

You’re in love with him and you’ll do anything to keep us apart.”

“That’s not true,” Alayne protested. “I wish he would go back to Silvermoon with you and leave me alone.”

“No you don’t,” Ta’sia accused. “You say that but your actions speak louder than your words. You want him to follow you. You want him for yourself. I can understand that part, Alayne. After all, what woman wouldn’t want Ger’alin? But, you…you keep getting him almost killed. Well, I’m done with this. It’s breaking my heart to leave him and I’m praying he’ll come to his senses and come back home with me but I can’t stand watching him risk his neck to try to protect a woman like you. He feels a duty to watch out for you, you know. He feels responsible for you. He thinks of you just as Zerith does and it would hurt him so badly if something happened to you.”

“Ta’sia, wait…” Alayne pleaded. “I’ll talk to him. I’ll get him to go back with you.

Or, I’ll just head off on my own again. I’ll tell Zerith not to follow and to keep Ger’alin back.

I’m sure that…”

“No,” Ta’sia said firmly. “I told Ger’alin myself that either he follows you or he follows me. I’m sure that, in time, he’ll come to see you for what you are. And, he’ll hate you for leading him around as you have. But, until then, I want no part of this charade.”

Not giving the other woman a chance to respond, Ta’sia turned and vanished into the night. Alayne stood staring after her for a long moment, a look of utter agony on the warlock’s face. Then, forcing herself to calm down, schooling her features to stillness, she turned and headed back to the inn. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin was relieved when he awoke and saw Alayne sitting at her desk. The woman was scribbling away in her notebook and had several vials spread out before her. She would lift one up to her face, stare at it, and then take careful notes on its reaction to whatever it was she was doing. The paladin was content to watch her, content to spend this time in silence. He worked over what he wanted to say to her, hoping that he could finally get it off his chest and at least know where he stood.

“I learned about what happened,” Alayne said, not even looking up from her research.

“You have my sincerest apologies for the trouble I’ve caused you.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“You did not have to follow me out here. I can take care of myself.”

“Alayne, I…” “And you do not need to watch over me. I’m not going to do anything rash. Granted, yes, attacking Hellfire Citadel without an adequate number of fighters was foolhardy.

However, it was a risk we had to take to keep the research Jez’ral and I are working on secret.

64

Also, we had no desire to leave Thrallmar with a bigger mess on its hands while we skipped merrily on about our business.”

“Alayne, what did she tell you?” he demanded.

“She told me the truth. And now, I want you to leave. I want you to go back to Silvermoon. I want you to stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself. I’ve got Jez’ral and Zerith who will look after me. You need to live your own life, Ger’alin. Don’t keep following me out of some misplaced sense of loyalty.”

“Alayne, at least look at me and let me explain. I think she must have…”

“There’s nothing more to discuss, Ger’alin,” Alayne said coldly. “Now, excuse me.

Jez’ral and I have some loose ends to tie up before we venture over to Zangarmarsh. I’ll be staying in his room from now on. You can remain here for the next week if you want. The room is paid up that long.”

Alayne swept out of the room before Ger’alin could so much as formulate a reply. She slammed the door behind her. A few minutes later, Zerith stormed into the room, his face dark as an approaching hurricane. “Okay, Ger’alin,” he growled, “I promised to let you explain things to Alayne. Did you or did you not?”

“She didn’t give me the chance to get a word in edgewise,” the paladin said defensively. “I’m not sure what her problem is today other than she’s made it clear she wants me gone.”

“She just told me she spoke with Ta’sia last night.”

“What? I thought she was gone!”

“Apparently not. Now, I can understand why Ta’sia might want to make you suffer a bit but why in the name of the Light would she drag Alayne into it? I know there’s something you’re not telling me and I have a very strong feeling it involves my sister.”

“Ta’sia…Ta’sia is the kind of person who gets a rise out of making others feel sorry for her,” Ger’alin sighed. “No doubt she told Alayne some sob story to make me look bad and to make herself look better. What she told Alayne, I don’t know. I wish I did, but Alayne just told me straight out to go back to Silvermoon and to leave her alone. She said I shouldn’t worry about her and that she can take care of herself.”

“What on earth did that woman tell her to get her so riled up at you?” Zerith muttered.

“And why?”

Ger’alin shrugged helplessly. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Ta’sia had told Alayne. He also had a feeling that there was no way he was ever going to get to explain himself if he kept waiting for the right moment. “I’m going after her,” he announced. “I’m going to get to this once and for all. If she still wants me to leave after that, I’ll leave.”

“I’ll come with you,” Zerith nodded. “I want to know what has her so bothered lately myself.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne gazed out over the Pools of Aggonar. She and Jez’ral had been here several times already. The site of the defeat of a massive demon drew lesser demons to it and created a vortex of power that polluted the land. The stagnant pools bubbled from the heat of fel fires and doomguards wandered around at will. Still, something powerful kept the lesser demons from running amuck. Several times already, the two sin’dorei warlocks had sensed it.

However, whenever they focused on it, the feeling slipped away from them until, finally, they had decided that there was nothing left to do but to check using mundane means.

“I’m going to take a bath that lasts a week when we get done here,” Jez’ral muttered sourly as they made their way deeper into the area. The stench of rot and decay was strong here, freshened constantly by the fetid pools. The two warlocks destroyed the doomguards as 65

a matter of course. The demons were not very powerful and they needed to test to see if the dark vortex they’d both felt would rush to the defense of its minions.

“Nothing,” Alayne said, shaking her head. “Let’s move on.”

Continuing along the path and around the bend, they both came to a stumbling halt.

Up ahead atop a massive darkstone platform stood a man’ari demon. One of the high-ranking members of the Legion, these demons were of the eredar race. This one stood proudly, surveying the area while his many-armed attendants patrolled the demon’s claim. “They’re close to the Mag’har,” Jez’ral muttered. “And that one looks like he could summon a gate on his own.”

“Agreed,” Alayne nodded. “But, we don’t really have the power to take him out on our own.”

“We do if we get those others to cooperate.”

“I don’t think I could handle that many minds at once.”

“We don’t have to handle those minds. Just the one.”

“You’re insane, Jez’ral,” Alayne grinned. “I like it.”

“Mir’el will bite me again if he finds out we did this.”

“I’m not going to tell him.”

“Good girl,” Jez’ral chuckled. “Now, let’s find a likely spot and get ready. This is going to be exhausting.”

“Like the rest of what we’ve been doing out here hasn’t been,” Alayne said ironically.

Jez’ral barked a laugh and nodded in agreement. He’d been more tired more frequently in Outland than he had during the entire campaign at Mount Hyjal during the last invasion. The pair scanned the area and spotted a large rock they could lean against. Alayne unrolled their sleeping mats and set up a small fire-pit. Likely, they would fall asleep after this was done – provided they did not have to make a run for it. Settling in and clearing their minds, the two warlocks let their energies wander and merge together and then, taking the lead, Jez’ral slammed their will onto the massive eredar overseer.

The demon roared in anger as he felt the intrusion into his mind. He tried to fight it off but Jez’ral and Alayne had combined their strengths. Separately, he might have been able to fight them off. Paired together, however, he was soon overcome. The other demons sensed a change in their master as he struggled to keep some sense of his own will. Wandering in closer to him, the demonic gathering was quickly slain when Jez’ral ordered the eredar to summon the fel fire.

Uncertain of what was going on but knowing that their master no longer controlled them, the demons scattered. Over half of them began attacking the eredar, eager to slay him and take his place in the Legion’s hierarchy. The rest scattered. Soon, those who had not fled envied those who had. Jez’ral and Alayne used the eredar’s great strength against his comrades while preventing him from defending himself. The numbers of those attacking grew less and less as demons fell to their master’s enslaved might. Jez’ral groaned as the last demon fell. It was still too soon. The eredar was still relatively strong and unwinded. The warlock wondered just how they were going to manage to hold him off and make a run for it now that no other demons lurked nearby to be used as shields.

“What are you two doing here?” Zerith called out as he and Ger’alin rounded the bend. “What is going on here?”

Jez’ral shot a pleading gaze at them. He dared not speak lest that break his concentration enough to set the demon free. Alayne, knowing his thoughts as well as she knew her own, flung out a hand, pointing at the demon. Ger’alin understood almost immediately and sprinted past Zerith, racing up the ramp while the warlocks struggled to maintain control over the giant demon. Alayne felt a surge of panic as she saw Ger’alin unsheathe his blade and bore in against the demon. Ta’sia’s words from the previous night 66

floated in her mind. Determined not to let Ger’alin put himself in danger, Alayne clamped down with an iron will, paralyzing the demon and forcing her own will to become more tightly enmeshed with that of the eredar. She bit her lip as she felt each slash of the paladin’s blade in her own mind. Next to her, Jez’ral cried out in pain and his own control slipped.

Alayne forced herself to make up the difference, binding herself so tightly with the demon that its anger began to flow into her. She growled softly. Jez’ral, lifting his head and gazing at her, understood what his student was trying to do and the price she was paying for it.

Throwing himself at her and wrapping an arm around her body while clamping his other hand over her mouth, he roared. “Kill it now!”

Ger’alin glanced back to see what the warlock was shouting about just as the eredar broke free of Alayne’s control. The weakened demon raised a fist and aimed a blow at the sin’dorei paladin. Ger’alin managed to lift his shield just in time but the force of the demon’s blow jarred his arm. He screamed, feeling the bone crack and give way. Swinging wildly with his blade, Ger’alin managed to cut the demon’s throat, killing it before it could kill him. He sank to his knees, clutching his battered arm to his chest, and then looked over to see how the warlocks had fared.

Alayne was unconscious once more and Jez’ral was not far behind her. Jealousy and rage surged through Ger’alin when he saw the black-haired man laying across Alayne with his arms wrapped around her. He managed to stagger to his feet, intent on killing Jez’ral, before Zerith reached him. “I know you’re upset with her,” the priest muttered, misunderstanding the look on Ger’alin’s face, “but you should be grateful. She kept the demon from killing you even though it almost took her over. Luckily, Jez’ral broke her hold just before you killed it else you might have been dealing with a seriously possessed and very irritated warlock right now.”

“Belore,” Ger’alin swore, “why can’t she just have a sulking fit like a normal woman?” Zerith opened his mouth to answer but the ground tilted and Ger’alin joined the warlocks in the darkness of consciousness forgotten. ~*~*~*~ Zerith finished setting Ger’alin’s arm and let the healing power of the Light flow through him. The break was bad – the bone had been shattered in several places. However, with time, it would heal cleanly. The priest turned to examine Jez’ral, nodding in satisfaction.

There was nothing wrong with the man that a good bit of rest wouldn’t cure. Leaving the pair in Dar’ja’s care, he left the room and walked down the hallway to where Alayne was under guard. He smiled to himself when Callie rose up from the floor. The rogue was almost as upset as he and Ger’alin had been over Alayne and Jez’ral wandering off on their own again.

She refused to let the woman out of earshot.

Zerith pushed open the door and walked into the room. He started to scold his sister for being out of bed. He had told her to remain there and let the medicine he’d given her take effect. Once she had regained consciousness, she’d had a fierce headache that left her with doubled vision and unable to hold down the tiniest bit of food or water. The room still smelled faintly of the narcotic he’d steamed to get her to relax at all. However, when he saw that she was hunched over weeping, his scolding melted away forgotten. Walking quietly over to her, he squatted down and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“There, there,” he said comfortingly. “It’s all right. No one was hurt too badly.”

“I’m going to get him killed,” she moaned. “Why won’t he just leave me alone? I’m all wrong for him. He should go back to Silvermoon with Ta’sia. Back where he belongs with a woman who cares enough for him to keep him safe!”

“Alayne,” he gasped, “what are you talking about?”

67

“I’m talking about what’s best for Ger’alin,” she sobbed softly. “I’m just going to get him killed out here. And, as much as I try to get him to leave, he won’t. And,” she groaned, whimpering so that she could barely get the words out, “I really want him to stay. I’m being selfish and I’m going to get him killed.”

“Why would wanting one of your friends to stay with you be selfish? And isn’t it his decision what he does and where he goes in life? If he wants to follow you, then that’s up to him, is it not?”

“But I’ve driven off the one person he really cared about. All because I insist on putting him in danger…”

“Alayne, I don’t think he ever really cared about Ta’sia…”

“He did! He does! She told me…”

“She’s a liar and a tramp, Alayne.”

“How can you say that!”

“Because I saw her with another man with my own eyes. She was tormenting Ger’alin because he embarrassed her a while back. I’m not certain of the whole story – only he knows that – but apparently, she…well, actually, I’ll just let him explain the details,” Zerith blushed. “At any rate, the two of them were never involved with each other. But, she couldn’t stand that he didn’t want her. I guess, when she saw him in Silvermoon, she couldn’t resist trying to catch his attention. And then, you saw it and came across her and the next thing poor Ger’alin knows, we’re thinking they are involved because she’s lied to us and he didn’t have a clear way out of it without humiliating her further.”

“But…but…”

“But nothing,” Zerith snorted. “She’s gone now. What did she say to you that has you so upset?”

“I…I don’t want to talk about it,” Alayne muttered, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“But still, he shouldn’t be out here.”

“Why don’t you want him out here? When we were traveling together before, you seemed to like having him around.”

“I…I can’t stand being around him!” she wept. “I can’t stand the way he looks at me as if…as if…”

“As if what, Alayne?” Zerith asked, mystified.

“As if I were his little sister!”

Zerith stared at the top of Alayne’s head for a moment while all the pieces of the puzzle lined up. “Oh Light…” he sighed. “You mean to tell me that Ger’alin is the one you’ve been mooning over the past few weeks?”

“It’s nothing!” she snapped angrily. “I’ll get over it! I’m all wrong for him! I keep almost getting him killed! He deserves better than me!”

“Sis,” Zerith said, dragging the word out, “he’d have to go some to do better than you.”

Alayne’s weeping increased, taking on a near-hysterical tone. Zerith sighed and placed his fingers against the pressure point on her neck just behind her ears. He hated putting someone under like this but if she didn’t calm down, she was going to make herself ill. Alayne trembled, shuddered, and then collapsed under his gentle touch. Muttering to himself and wondering just what he was going to do about this, the priest lifted her back into the bed, laid a cold cloth over her forehead and wiped her face clean. Pulling a chair close to her bed, he leaned back, letting his thoughts wander while she slept.

The door to the room creaked open and Zerith glanced over at it with half a mind.

Callie stood in the doorway looking guilty. He waved for her to come in and she walked over to the chair. “I couldn’t help but overhear some of that…” the rogue muttered slowly. “Did she…did she just say that it’s Ger’alin she’s been pining over?”

68

“Yes,” Zerith said softly. “Light, what a tangle.”

“Actually, it’s perfect,” Callie whispered. “Ger’alin’s been in love with her almost since he first met her. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know her.”

“What?” Zerith replied flatly.

“Did you notice that Ta’sia looks a lot like Alayne? Did you ever stop to think about what it was that would have embarrassed her so much? I’ll tell you what it was if you haven’t guessed yet. Trust me, there’s nothing more humiliating to a woman like her than when the man you’ve just tricked into sleeping with you calls out another woman’s name and then begins weeping in gratitude to the Light for giving him what he’s been dreaming of.

Especially when that happens in a very crowded in and the man is calling out at the top of his lungs.”

Zerith stared at the Forsaken for a long moment, grateful that Alayne was beyond hearing any of this. He wasn’t certain he wanted to hear it himself. However, a grin began tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Go,” he said before he could burst into joyous laughter, “get Dar’ja. We’ve got our work cut out for us with this.” ~*~*~*~ “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jez’ral asked, somewhat uncomfortable at being drawn into this conversation. “I mean, shouldn’t we let them work this out on their own?”

“That never works,” Callie replied. “I mean, just look at you and Mir’el. You two needed some assistance in that area yourselves.”

“Wait what?” Zerith said, startled. Jez’ral waved a hand dismissively and blushed.

“Never mind,” the priest harrumphed. “Now, back to the original point, yes, this is a wonderful idea. We just need to figure out the details.”

“Well then,” Jez’ral said thoughtfully, “I suppose leaving them in the same room without a chaperone is a start. Two young elves who are just in the first surge of physical adulthood…well, that’s one way to let them work it out.”

“That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Zerith growled.

“If she’s anything like her mother, it’ll happen exactly as you fear,” Jez’ral sighed beneath his breath. “All right,” he said aloud, “what do you suggest?”

“We need to keep throwing them together. Remember how they shared that big tent in Desolace and how they were planning to make us think that they were…oh Light, I can’t even say it outright…”

“They were going to make all kinds of noises to make us think they were really enjoying themselves and then when one of us rushed in, they were going to douse us with cold water,” Callie finished for him. “It was all part of their plan to get back at us for teasing Ger’alin like we did.”

“Belore,” Jez’ral whimpered, covering his eyes with his hand. “So, you want us to keep putting them in the same room? What, exactly, is that going to accomplish? I suppose we could get Ger’alin drunk…”

“No,” Callie cut in, “we have to make it seem like it’s fate. They can’t think it’s a prank. They have to think that some extremely odd set of circumstances keeps throwing them together. Eventually, frustrated by that, one or the other will break down and explain why they’re so uncomfortable with the arrangements that fate – aided by the four of us, of course – keeps setting up for them. And then…”

“Then we have a wedding,” Zerith muttered. “Dar’ja, I hope you remember the exact vows we had to take because they’re going to be the same ones those two have to use.”

“So, how do we do this without being obvious?” Dar’ja asked.

69

“Well, we’ll be heading to Zangarmarsh next,” Callie grinned. “We leave them be here for a few days, let them recover and at least get back on friendly terms with each other.

Zerith, I’m sure you can come up with a reason why the two of them have to be in the same room.”

“I can do that quite easily,” the priest nodded. “It does make checking on them easier.

Ger’alin’s arm will need another few days of rest before it’s healed and Alayne has worn herself out. Still, they’ll both be up and about in a couple of days so…”

“Yes, but in a couple of days, the entire Disorder of Azeroth will be here and rooms will be something of a rare commodity.”

“That…that’s brilliant,” Zerith admitted with admiration.

“Good, then keep listening. Once we get to Zangarmarsh, we’ve got to figure out a way to…” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sighed and tried not to move his arm. Zerith had secured it in a sling but the paladin had to fight temptation to untie the ribbon and use his arm. Eating one-handed was annoying.

“Here,” Alayne sighed, turning on the bench and lifting the fork for him. He nodded his thanks and she sighed again. “It’s the least I can do after almost getting you killed.

Again.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “though you could tell me what that was about. And, what was it Ta’sia said to you that had you so upset?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alayne whispered quietly, refusing to look at him.

“You know that she and I were never together, correct? That she lied to you.”

“Zerith explained it to me,” Alayne continued, still not looking at him. “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you. I honestly thought she cared for you.”

“No lasting harm done,” Ger’alin replied awkwardly. Alayne finished feeding him in uncomfortable silence and then left to return to Jez’ral’s room. The warlocks were finishing their analysis of the demon population in Hellfire Peninsula before they continued on to the Zangarmarsh. Their tests in the vortex fields had promising results though they both feared that the instability of the land in Hellfire Peninsula would cause further collapse if they attempted to press further with their research. Jez’ral had high hopes for Zangarmarsh or Nagrand. Alayne herself thought their best chances lay in the Netherstorm. Still, it was Jez’ral’s expedition and she would go where he ordered for now.

Ger’alin stared after the warlock with a woebegone expression. He wondered why Alayne would not speak to him. Casting his mind back over the time since her return, he tried to figure out just when she had quit speaking with him. However, before he had much time to contemplate the possible reasons behind her sudden silence, Zerith plopped down on the bench where Alayne had been sitting.

“How’s the arm?” the priest asked.

“It’s doing better. I think tomorrow I should be able to start practicing the forms again with Tau’re.”

“Good, good. Jez’ral was saying they’ll be going to Zangarmarsh in a few days. I suppose we’ll all follow them. I know I’ve been wanting to study some of the plant life in Outland. I read the most fascinating book on the botanical effects of…”

“Books,” Ger’alin snorted. “They’re rarely useful things.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Zerith chuckled. “Remember the book Alayne found?”

“The one that got her captured by the Burning Blade?”

70

“No, no,” Zerith said, waving his hand and shaking his face. “The one she found out here. The one we’ve not let you read.”

“Oh, that one,” Ger’alin muttered. “What’s useful about that? It was just some magister’s research notes, wasn’t it?”

Zerith glanced around the room guiltily before pulling the book out of his belt pouch.

“Well, it’s not exactly research but it is fairly educational.”

“Let me see that,” Ger’alin grimaced, wondering what the priest was talking about.

Setting the book on the table, he flipped it open and began scanning the pages. His eyes widened in shock. “I see what you mean,” he muttered. “Light, is that even possible? Without being a contortionist, I mean.”

“Well…” Zerith grinned, shaking his head. “I’ll let you figure that out yourself. I was thinking about heading over to the Mag’har Outpost to see how they’re faring. Being so close to the source of demonic energies is having a slight effect on them and their shamans want an outsider’s opinion. Would you like to come along or would you rather stay here and…be educated?”

“Oh, what?” Ger’alin asked absently as he turned another page. “Yes, of course.

Have a good time then.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin tossed and turned uncomfortably in the bed. He had lost that particular argument with Alayne. She slept on the floor across the room. Zerith poked his head in every few hours after supper to make certain that both of the elves were obeying his orders to rest.

Glancing out of the window, Ger’alin figured that Zerith must already be asleep. “Alayne?” he hissed quietly. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” “I want to talk to you.”

“You’re talking now, aren’t you?”

“I mean…well, I want to know why you’re so angry with me. I did offer to trade places with you…”

“You are not sleeping on the floor with a broken arm.”

“It’s not really broken anymore.”

“I’m fine on the floor.”

“So, that’s not why you’re upset with me?”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re hardly speaking to me anymore.”

“What do you think I’m doing now? Knitting?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Ever since you came back…you’ve been avoiding me. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I was just busy with returning to my studies. You were busy teaching. We just never had much time to speak and then there was that whole thing with Ta’sia…”

“Let’s not talk about her,” he shuddered. “I’d like to wring her neck for lying to you like that.”

“Actually, I do want to talk about her,” Alayne said. “Why did you go along with it? I can understand why she lied about being with you…”

“You can?”

“Anyhow,” Alayne continued, glad of the darkness that hid her blushes, “but what I can’t understand is why you went along with it if you dislike her so much. One word from you and she’d have been out of luck.”

71

“I…I didn’t want to embarrass her again. I’d refused her once before and she swore she’d get back at me. I figured letting her have her revenge until she got bored would make us even.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“Then give me five minutes to think up a more believable lie!” he snapped angrily.

Of all the things he wanted to talk about with Alayne, Ta’sia wasn’t even on the list. “Look, it’s complicated and it involves a time that I really don’t want to think about,” he said lamely.

“But, she got very upset when I turned her down. When she saw me again in Silvermoon, she was trying to embarrass me. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t understand why any man wouldn’t want to be with her.”

“Why didn’t you want to be with her?” Alayne asked curiously. “Is there someone else?”

“What kind of question is that?” he demanded. “No, there’s no one else. And please, for the love of the Light, don’t even start thinking about playing match-maker.”

Ger’alin strained to listen for her reply. He heard fabric rustling and then careful steps moving towards the bed. Turning his head, he saw Alayne standing there, her pillow clutched in her hands and a strange look on her face. “Do you honestly think,” she snarled, “that I would set you up with someone? After all of the misery that people playing match-maker with me is causing me?”

“Wait, who’s playing…ow!” he hissed when Alayne’s pillow hit him full in the face.

“I’m not doing it! Why are you hitting me?”

“Because I can’t hit my employer or his lover! And you would think that I would stoop to that level when…”

Ger’alin snaked his good arm out from under the cover and grabbed the pillow from her hands. Throwing it across the room, he grabbed her arm before she could go to get it again. Pulling her down on the bed, he sat up, pulled her into his lap, and held her there so she couldn’t get away from him. “I don’t think you would do that,” he said calmly.

“However, I do think that if you mentioned it within a twenty-mile radius of Callie, I would wake up to find myself in the midst of one of her more elaborate pranks. Now, why is Jez’ral trying to find someone for you? Is there someone you’re interested in?” he teased, praying that the anxiety in his voice would not give him away. “Light, woman, can’t you have a civilized conversation with me?” he groaned as she continued to try to twist away from him.

“Your hair is tickling me!” she giggled nervously. “I didn’t realize how long it was.”

“Oh,” he said as he loosened his hold on her slightly. She started to dart away to get her pillow again but he grabbed her nightgown and pulled her back, Wrestling with her until he had her pinned beside him, he fought not to laugh himself. She seemed to be making a game of it and, while it confused him endlessly, he was happy to have her be so amused by his antics. “Ssh,” he shushed. “You’re going to get Callie or Zerith or both in here if you keep that up.”

“Oh, fine,” she sighed. “Let me get back over there so I can get some sleep.”

“You swear you’re not angry with me and that when we wake up, you’ll still be speaking with me?”

“Yes, Ger’alin. I swear,” she groaned.

“And you swear that you’re not going to give anyone any ideas about throwing women at me?”

“I swear that too.”

“Would you like me to do something to stop Jez’ral from throwing men at you?”

“No. I think I’ve convinced him to stop.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good, I suppose.”

“Why would he want to set you up with someone in the first place?”

72

“I have no idea.”

“No thoughts whatsoever?”

“None. Are you going to let me go so I can get some sleep? We’re supposed to be heading over to Zangarmarsh in the morning.”

“You’re tired?”

“I am,” she admitted. “What are you doing?” she hissed as he pulled her down so that she was laying in the bed next to him. He kicked the blankets over her and then made certain his hair was not tickling her as it had been earlier.

“I will not get any sleep at all knowing that you’re tossing and turning on the floor.

So, you can share this bed with me…”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” she yawned and made a feeble effort to get free.

“Look, we both know that we talk in our sleep and that I snore quite loudly. However, you do have to admit that this is more comfortable than the floor even if I’m in here as well.

Besides, I want to talk to you more and I don’t like talking across a room. So, just get your mind out of the gutter and… Alayne? Alayne?” he smiled softly and settled down next to her when he realized she had fallen sound asleep. “Good night, Alayne,” he whispered, relaxing his hold on her and closing his eyes. Contenting himself with that, he fell into a restful slumber. ~*~*~*~ Alayne blushed and giggled when Ger’alin walked past her. He grinned at her and winked as he took the end of his ponytail and waved it at her as if he were going to tickle her.

She chuckled and nodded at him, pulling herself into the saddle and then walking her felsteed over to where he stood waiting for the rest of the riders to mount up and follow them to Zangarmarsh. Zerith watched the by-play between the two with curiosity. He wondered if they were beginning to work things out on their own. At the very least, the icy wall separating them had begun to melt and they laughed over a shared joke that neither seemed inclined to explain to him.

“Let’s get going,” the priest said loudly once he was settled in the saddle himself.

“Zangarmarsh awaits.”

73

Chapter Thirteen: Secrets in the Swamps

A

layne stared in amazement at the scene that unfolded as they left the red, rocky soil of Hellfire Peninsula and stepped into Zangarmarsh. Enormous mushrooms sprouted from the swampy ground, shading the land with their immense caps. A cobblestone road dotted liberally with rickety wooden bridges formed the path through the marsh. Long-legged swampwalkers wandered through the flowing streams and rivers, seeking food while oversized wasps darted to and fro, lighting on flowers that grew near the giant fungi. Next to her, Jez’ral reached out and gripped her arm in a vice-like hold when her eyes fell on the moonwell at the druid outpost.

“Kaldorei,” Alayne breathed in awe. She’d met precious few of the elder race. Those she had met had been bent on taking control of Quel’Thalas. However, it was said that the druids of the Cenarion Circle were neutral and welcomed all who would respect their ways – even sin’dorei.

“Alayne, let’s not annoy them too much,” Jez’ral muttered in an undertone. While druids might tolerate the sin’dorei, they were not fond of warlocks – even those who followed the ‘fighting fire with fire’ philosophy. Studying the rapt expression on Alayne’s face and knowing some of the half-million questions piling up in her mind, Jez’ral sighed and decided to focus his efforts where they might bear fruit. “You wouldn’t want to get us tossed out before you get a chance to ask them anything so stay out of the moonwell.”

“Be welcome to the Cenarion Refuge,” one of the night elven druids said with a welcoming smile. “Who among you leads this band?”

“I do,” Zerith answered quickly, vaulting off his hawkstrider. “We are just travelers, passing through. We mean you no harm.”

“You are most welcome!” a tauren druid boomed, startling everyone. “We have been praying for just such a deliverance!”

“What do you mean?” Zerith asked, glancing around. “All seems peaceful enough here. Is there something we can help you with?”

“Yes, please let there be something we can help them with,” Alayne whispered beneath her breath, hoping that whatever it was would give her a chance to speak with night elves who would not attack her.

“The naga have taken over the lakes of Zangarmarsh and are draining them with some kind of foul machinery. The Circle would be most grateful if you could lead your band to disperse the naga to the north and south and destroy their infernal devices. They are threatening to cut off our water supply,” the night elven druid explained. “Will you aid us, sin’dorei priest?” he asked, sounding as if he had just bitten into a bitter fruit.

“Yes,” Zerith answered. “We will be glad to be of assistance to the Cenarion Circle.

Ger’alin, Jez’ral, Tau’re, Davril, could the four of you come along with me? Sir, would you be so kind as to show us what you can of your enemies’ positions? The more information we can have now, the sooner we can drive them out. The rest of you,” he said, turning back to the small army following after, “should find places to sleep tonight and try not to annoy the Circle too much,” he said, glaring at his sister just as Jez’ral had. Alayne adopted her most innocent “who, me?” expression, forcing him to hold back a laugh. Motioning for Dar’ja to 74

come over to him, he quickly whispered something in her ear, smiled, and then walked off with the druids to begin learning more about the situation.

“What did he tell you?” Alayne asked Dar’ja as the two of them began moving through the crowd towards the inn.

“To keep an eye on you,” Dar’ja winked. “Come on, we’ll probably have to double up at the inn. Do you mind sharing a room with Callie? Or would you rather share one with Ger’alin as has been your custom?” she teased.

“Callie is fine. It’s not like she sleeps much,” Alayne said, hoping her careless expression masked how she truly felt. She hoped that Zerith had not told Dar’ja the whole story but feared that he had. Sighing to herself, she thought that as long as it stayed between the three of them, she would be able to get over it without risking scaring Ger’alin away. She forced herself not to think about the previous night and how nice it had been to be so close to him. Doing that was not at all conducive to her “get over it and move on” strategy.

“I’ll go make the arrangements, then, while there are still rooms open,” Dar’ja said quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to get Ger’alin and Jez’ral to double up as well. Camping outside in this muck just isn’t a good idea.”

Dar’ja hurried off to get the rooms reserved while Alayne wandered around the small town. The night elves, like the blood elves, favored buildings that were in harmony with their surroundings. The shops, towers, and the inn were all constructed out of wood native to Outland. The low-peaked roofs were tiled, however, and adorned with the symbols of the moon goddess, Elune. Alayne glanced around and then made a line for the moonwell. She knew that the night elves had tried to set one up off the shores of Quel’Thalas but had been driven back before it could be activated. She had very much wanted to see the magic used to ignite the moonwell. Jez’ral said that the kaldorei were not very forth-coming with such information. He himself had sought after it after the destruction of the Sunwell. As she drew nearer to the glowing sapphire well, she could feel a sense of peace flowing over her. Her worries grew less pressing. Even the tension she’d been feeling around Ger’alin faded in the background as the soothing nature of the moonwell embraced her. Without thinking, she reached out, trying to get a sense of the energies that powered the well. “It feels very similar to the Sunwell,” she muttered quietly. “But it is so different at the same time.”

“That would be because the moonwell is blessed by Elune and Cenarius,” a deep voice said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Your Sunwell was sparked by the same magics that came from the Well of Eternity and replenished its power by drawing on the vital forces of the world.”

Alayne turned to see a night elf staring at her. The man looked serene and amused by his young cousin’s interest in the moonwell. “What do you know of the Sunwell?” she asked.

“It was…destroyed before your people set foot into Lordaeron.”

“We have learned much of your people and some of us remember your ancestors,” the druid replied. “Why, I myself recall when young Dath’remar…” he continued, guiding Alayne away from the moonwell and into the inn. Alayne followed eagerly, glad that one of the elder race would speak with her. She’d come to Outland hoping to glean more information concerning the history of the orcs and the Legion. However, the chance to learn more of her own people’s history – especially parts of it that were shrouded in legend – was not something she would pass up lightly.

Dar’ja walked past the pair, pausing them only to hand Alayne the key to the room she would share with Callie and then let them continue on, shaking her head in fond vexation.

The sin’dorei paladin walked over to where the Forsaken stood overseeing the picket lines that several of the Disorder of Azeroth were constructing.

“What is she doing?” Callie asked Dar’ja as the pair of them moved to where they couldn’t be seen in case Alayne suddenly decided to rejoin them.

75

“Indulging herself in her one, true passion,” Dar’ja grinned. “She’s probably getting him to tell her the entire history of Azeroth according to the kaldorei. It’s not enough that I think she’s read every single history book in Silvermoon, oh no, she’s got to hear it from the lips of those who lived it, if she can.”

“You got the rooms, then? Is it on for tonight?”

“Zerith says so.”

The Forsaken giggled. “This is going to be the most amusing thing to happen in the history of amusing things.”

“If it works as we hope it will,” Dar’ja said. “Let’s not count our dragonlings before they’re hatched.”

“Have any of my pranks ever gone awry?”

“According to Ger’alin, yes.”

“Those don’t count, then.”

“Hey, where are you two going?” Dar’ja asked, seeing Alayne dart out of the inn and race over to her felsteed. The warlock quickly pulled down her saddlebags and began rummaging through them.

“I want to write down what he’s telling me,” Alayne said. “Oh, Callie, I don’t know if Dar’ja told you but you’re rooming with me.”

“She did. I’ve got my key right here,” the Forsaken replied. “I’ll probably be popping in late tonight after you’re asleep. I want to do some exploring of my own around here.”

“That’s fine,” Alayne nodded. “I may even still be up then. I have a feeling I’m going to be working on my notes all night. He’s only just begun to tell me about our shared history and I already have learned more than all the books in Silvermoon could tell me! It’s fascinating.”

“Alayne, you really shouldn’t stay up too late,” Callie chided. “You’re still recovering from whatever it was you and Jez’ral did to that demon. And, you’ll want to be rested in case we need to work on something other than studying tomorrow.”

“What are you two talking about anyway?” Dar’ja asked.

“The first battle of MountHyjal,” Alayne answered. “Var’thanos was there. He’s over twelve thousand years old!” she said in an awed whisper. “And, he knew Dath’Remar! He promised he would tell me about it since, according to him, we have most of it wrong. I’m glad I brought all those extra books,” she said. “I may run out of pages to write on. Twelve thousand years…,” she said, sounding stunned beyond belief.

“He must have the patience of a stone,” Dar’ja said, watching Alayne scamper back to the inn.

“I’m going to go up to the room and get things set up,” Callie said after Alayne got out of earshot. “I’ll move the bed over to the darkest corner of the room and rearrange the furniture a bit. I’ll put the basin right at the window so that if Ger’alin does his normal washup-before-sleep routine, he’ll be night-blinded as he stumbles into the bed. You know,” Callie muttered in disbelief, “I can’t believe that Zerith is fine with the chance that those two might…”

“Oh, he’s not exactly fine with it but if that’s what it takes to get them to realize the truth, he’s willing to stomach it. Provided, of course,” she giggled, “that he can get them decently married right away. He has been practicing his outraged speech. Truth be told, I think he’s almost looking forward to it.”

“Well, I will warn you that Ger’alin is completely convinced that Alayne regards him in the same light she holds Zerith so he may not figure it out tonight.”

“And Alayne’s convinced that Ger’alin thinks of her the same way Zerith does so we may have to keep throwing them together until they can’t stand it anymore,” Dar’ja agreed.

76

“Remember, Zerith and Jez’ral are working on a couple of contingency plans that, for some reason, we’re not allowed to be part of.”

“Probably because we’d think they were too tame,” Callie muttered. “Oh well, let’s go get started setting things up for tonight. Remember, this has to look like a complete accident.” ~*~*~*~ “Who’s that over there with Alayne?” Ger’alin asked, hoping he didn’t sound too jealous. The warlock was sitting at a table, her head together with one of the night elves.

“Var’thanos,” Callie answered. “I don’t see how she can put up with his haughty attitude. Apparently, he’s telling her his life story. It spans twelve centuries so they’ve been talking for a while.”

“Alayne and her obsession with history,” Jez’ral muttered. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll catch her summoning something just to ask it questions like in the stories of old. Who would have thought someone so young would be interested in things so far in the past?”

“I see,” Ger’alin said slowly. “Well, I’m just about worn out. I think I’ll go get my room and just go to sleep. Never mind about supper.”

“You’re in with Jez’ral,” Callie said quickly. “I’ve got all of the keys. But, I’m not giving you yours until after you’ve eaten something. Your stomach rumbling will probably keep poor Jez’ral up all night.”

“Fine, fine,” Ger’alin grumbled, glancing over at Alayne. The woman smiled at him and waved, motioning for him and the others to join her. The night elf stood up and, bowing courteously, left. Alayne bent back over her book, scribbling in a few last notes before the others sat down. “What was so interesting about him?” Ger’alin asked, poking the woman in the shoulder.

“He knows so much,” she said, her voice bordering on worshipful. Ger’alin grimaced.

“He was there when the first of our people were exiled. We had to agree to disagree about that subject,” she muttered. “I still can’t believe they…well, it’s been several millennia now, so arguing about it won’t make much difference. I wish there were a way to navigate the Maelstrom,” she whispered, staring off into space.

“Why would you want to do that?” Ger’alin asked.

“Apparently, that’s where the Well of Eternity is. Or where he thinks it wound up. I wish I could find a naga who wouldn’t try to stab me so I could see if they knew. Maybe if we could…no, it probably wouldn’t work,” she sighed. “Though, that one test before the voidwalker spawned on top of us gives me great encouragement that it can be done.”

“I see,” Ger’alin said, not understanding a word but content to listen to her speak.

“Do you know what’s good here? I’m starving,” he announced. “First we spent hours poring over maps and arguing tactics. Then we had to go scout out the positions. Zerith’s got a great plan worked out. And, yes, Alayne, you get to get in on the action. He’s not putting you off in reserve.”

“That’s good,” she answered. “I’ve already eaten so I think I’ll just go see if Zerith will tell me what the plan is and then I’m going to go work on my notes and then get some sleep. As someone reminded me, if we’re going to be fighting, I want to be well-rested for it.

Good night, Ger’alin, Callie, Jez’ral,” she said, smiling sweetly. Ger’alin watched her leave, his heart pounding so loudly he feared that everyone could hear it. He tore his gaze away, terrified she would be able to read his face if she turned back, and stared at the table. Callie rubbed his back in commiseration, keeping her own eagerness and anticipation tamped down firmly. Jez’ral waved at Alayne again when he saw her leaving Zerith and Dar’ja, skipping up the stairs lightly, happy after a day spent scribbling notes that would enrich the archives in 77

Silvermoon and looking forward to a rousing battle. Callie startled him when she walked up beside him and slipped him a key.

“Second floor, second door to the left. I’ll take the floor. I just gave Ger’alin the key to his room. Get soup so he can eat fast. We have to get him up there before she falls asleep deeply enough to start babbling and give herself away.”

“Good, good. Come with me. You can help me carry the bowls back,” the warlock whispered, pocketing the key. “He won’t see her, will he?”

“Ger’alin is blind as a bat at night unless he spends several minutes letting his eyes adjust. Luckily, he’s so tired right now that all he really wants to do is fall asleep. Come on, we can’t mess this up without giving ourselves away entirely,” she giggled, grabbing two bowls of soup from the cook and hurrying back across the room. Zerith and Dar’ja were sitting around the Blood Knight, going over the plans for tomorrow afternoon’s battle. Jez’ral kept quiet while they ate, feeling a thrill of nervous anticipation. He’d not participated in a good prank since he was their age and had forgotten the excitement that heated the blood.

Ger’alin ate with maddening slowness, it seemed. Time seemed to crawl by. Callie and Dar’ja shot each other worried glances behind the man’s back, hoping that Alayne would take her time falling asleep. Zerith chaffed his hands, wishing Ger’alin would hurry in the event that this scheme did work. He’d figured that Ger’alin would be more than ready to go to sleep after the way he’d made the man run all over Zangarmarsh this afternoon and evening. He nearly sighed with relief when Ger’alin pushed his bowl away, and yawning said, “I think I’m going to head on to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Ger’alin,” Callie said smoothly. Zerith didn’t trust himself to speak without bursting into laughter. “Pleasant dreams,” she said, smiling to herself. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin hummed to himself quietly as he walked up the stairs to the second floor of the inn. Counting off the doors, he opened the fifth one to the right and walked in. Stopping for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, he wished idly he knew which room Alayne was in. “I’d put up with listening to her ramble on about the complete course of history since creation just to hear her voice,” he thought to himself as he set his things by the door.

Walking over to the wash basin, he poured some water out and washed his face, wishing that he felt up to waiting for a tub to be filled. Squinting in the bright moonlight, he quickly finished washing off the sweat and dust from running all over the area and turned, taking a second to orient himself. Moving slowly, groping almost blindly, he grunted when his foot hit the side of the bed. Feeling for the covers, he pulled them back and climbed in, rolling on his side and nearly biting his tongue when he saw a woman’s sleeping face on the pillow across from him.

“I am going to kill Callie!” Ger’alin groaned softly, rolling on his back and covering his eyes with his hand.

“Ger’alin, is that you?” Alayne asked, her voice thick with sleep. She pushed herself up and rubbed her eyes. “What are you doing in here? They told me that Callie was going to be my room-mate.”

“Go back to sleep, Alayne. Apparently, there’s been a bit of a mix up.”

“Mix up?”

“I think Callie is playing one of her pranks on us. She must have swapped the keys around.”

“Why would she do that?”

“One word: Desolace.”

“Are they never going to let us live that down?” Alayne muttered.

78

“I don’t think so,” he sighed. “I’ll just go set up camp…”

“No,” Alayne said firmly. “You can sleep in here. I don’t mind. We can take turns sleeping on the floor.”

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor,” he protested. “My arm is completely healed.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to make you sleep on the floor the whole time,” she muttered. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s very chilly here in Zangarmarsh.”

“Then keep your head turned while I go get my shirt and put it back on. I can wrap up in my cloak and I’ll be fine.”

“Look, we can get a cot brought in tomorrow,” she said calmly. “But, you can sleep here with me tonight.”

“No, I don’t…”

“I won’t bite you,” she muttered. “Besides, if we get a good night’s sleep, we’ll be refreshed enough to think of a way to get back at all of them.”

“I like the way you think,” he grinned, relaxing a bit. “Fine, I’ll sleep in here with you tonight and we’ll get the cot tomorrow. However, if your brother comes in here and raises hell, tell him this was your idea.” ~*~*~*~ “Well, they did share the bed,” Callie said helpfully. “Not that anything happened.”

“Ger’alin sent down for a cot this morning,” Zerith sighed. “I think they’re going to keep sharing that room. Still, I saw the glare he gave you, Callie, and I’d watch it if I were you.”

“He’ll get over it,” she grinned. “I’ve done worse.”

“Well, if everything goes according to our plan today, then they should have little choice but to get the hint,” Dar’ja muttered.

“I’m still not certain about this plan of yours,” Zerith sighed. “It’s very risky.”

“Which is why Callie will keep a close eye on Alayne.”

“I will, Zerith,” Callie said seriously. “I’m not going to let her get sick. First of all, her getting sick would ruin our plans. Secondly, it just wouldn’t be funny.”

“Still, I don’t like it.”

“Would you prefer it was Ger’alin who was handling that assignment?”

“No,” Zerith sighed, “we do need him in with the rest of the fighters. And, Alayne does know the spell that will allow her to handle the aspects we need handled. I still just don’t like it.”

“How would you feel about it if there was no prank involved?” Callie asked.

“About the same. It’s risky. She’s not been completely well in a while and she did put herself under tremendous strain recently. But then, she’s going to be one of the best we have for this.”

Just then, Ger’alin and Alayne walked over and sat down at the table with the others.

The pair were silent though neither seemed too angry or upset. “Good morning,” Alayne said calmly as she stirred honey into the porridge she’d gotten.

“Good morning,” Zerith replied. The others echoed him and he winced at the uncertainty of their tone.

“Ger’alin and I had a discussion last night,” the warlock stated. “We decided that if you want us to share a room, that’s fine with us. However, in the future, we ask that you be honest about it so we can get a second bed in there. We did share that tent in Desolace and you seem determined not to let us forget what he said to get me freed sooner. So, we’ll go along with this for now.”

79

“You don’t have to…” Zerith started to say, feeling guilty.

“But we will,” Ger’alin said firmly, not giving anyone a chance to argue. “Better we do it this way where at least we know what to expect than we do it another way and have me climb into bed with her. By the sun, if I want to get into bed with a woman, I’d damn well prefer to have planned it myself.”

Alayne flushed slightly and looked at him speculatively. She said nothing though, but calmly sipped at her tea. Zerith stared at his hands, wanting to blurt out everything.

“So, looking forward to the battle?” Ger’alin asked, glad to change the topic.

“Yes,” Zerith said, sighing in relief. “Unless you’re planning to kill Callie for that nasty prank she pulled. That I would have to say I’m not looking forward to.”

“We’re not going to kill you,” Ger’alin said lightly to the Forsaken. “Oh, you’ll get what’s coming to you, scaring me half to death like that just so you could get a few laughs.”

“Maiming, however, is not out of the question,” Alayne said lightly. “Come on,” she muttered, “let’s go see if everyone’s ready to fight.” ~*~*~*~ “We need a new plan,” Callie said. “One that they’re not likely to figure out in three minutes like the last one. I seriously doubt what we’ve got up our sleeves now is going to work like we hope.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to do other than what we have planned already,” Dar’ja muttered.

“I’m out of ideas as well,” Zerith sighed. “They’re both pretty upset about all of it. I don’t think they’ll be trusting any of us, especially Callie, for a little while. Maybe we should just sit them down and tell them we know everything.”

“That may be the best idea,” Jez’ral agreed. “Light knows they’re not going to figure it out on their own. I swear, sometimes Alayne can be so slow she goes backwards.”

“Ger’alin can be about as bad,” Callie giggled. “Okay, how about this? We get them drunk. Not that there’s anything to drink around here other than all this water,” she muttered, gesturing to the lake.

“How about we leave them alone, instead, as Jez’ral suggests? We’ll go ahead with what we worked out and if that doesn’t get them started, then we just back off for a while.

Either they’ll figure it out themselves or they won’t.” Zerith suggested “Dar’ja, could you go tell Alayne that I want her to head up the groups searching the corpses after the battle? We will need to see if we can find out who is really in control of the naga,” Dar’ja nodded and clucked her horse to a faster walk, catching up to the other two and passing along the request.

“Do you think we could just leave them alone?” Callie grinned. “You’re talking about us, Zerith. Leaving them alone just isn’t going to happen. I wonder what they’re talking about up there, their heads together like that.”

“No idea. Probably figuring out how to get back at us,” Zerith huffed.

Near the head of the column, Alayne and Ger’alin rode so close together that their knees nearly touched. “I saw some itchweed,” Alayne whispered. “Just a little of it in their clothes and they’ll be scratching for a week.”

“That’s pretty good. I saw a blackcap or three. Just a little of that sprinkled into their food or drink and they’ll be running to the privy faster than you would believe.”

“I like the way you think.”

“Probably because it’s the same way you think.”

“I still can’t believe…”

“Don’t think about it,” he advised. “Best not to go into a battle upset or angry at anyone other than those you’re about to kill.”

80

“Still, the very idea…”

“Alayne, could we rehash this later, please? Battle,” he pleaded.

“Sure,” she said, staring at him uncomfortably. “Later. I’ll just go…join my squad now.”

“Try to remember the location of that itchweed,” he grinned. “We’ll get them back tomorrow. She couldn’t have been alone in that one. Zerith would have killed her otherwise.”

Alayne smiled and Ger’alin smiled back, forcing himself to look away after a few seconds, steeling himself for the fight to come. As they drew close to the naga-infested lake, he took several deep, calming breaths to quiet his mind and spirit. He hoped that he would be so tired from fighting today, on top of not having slept much at all last night, that he would drop off before he realized who else was in the room tonight. He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. “Battle,” he told himself firmly, trying to forget how much he wanted to just tell her everything and beg her not to leave and plead with Zerith not to kill him then and there. “Battle,” he growled.

“They’re moving into position now,” Zerith observed, pulling up alongside Ger’alin.

Callie stopped on the Blood Knight’s other side, carefully not looking at him. “Dismount,” the priest ordered, watching his command trickle through the crowd. “I’m really, really sorry,” he said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t know what Callie was thinking.”

“Well, I want to talk to you about that as well. Hopefully you can put a stop to this foolishness,” Ger’alin snorted. “But not right now. Someplace quieter, with less naga and no weapons laying about. Light, what did they do? Gallop all the way down the lake?” he said, seeing the runner from the caster group approach and wave that they were ready to begin.

“Alayne probably did. She loves to swim. She told me once that I would never understand just how confining female robes and undergarments are until I swam while wearing them. Dar’ja has said the same thing. And, to be completely honest, I’m not too interested in seeing if they’re exaggerating or not. Especially considering some of the things I’ve seen Dar’ja wear…or not wear, as the case may be,” he joked.

“I don’t want to think about that,” Ger’alin grimaced. “Let’s get into position ourselves and see if we can make this work like we planned.” Moving down the eastern side of the island, Ger’alin waited until the line was formed before charging in, his blade flashing as he let loose a tension-relieving primal shout, startling the naga, making them freeze as the Horde fighters dove in, pushing them back relentlessly towards the water’s edge. The Disorder of Azeroth completely outnumbered the naga, making the fight a short and sure one.

The serpent-men, seeing that they were routed, tried to make an escape by diving into the deep waters of the lake. Ger’alin laughed when he saw the waters begin to bubble as the casters hidden in the depths began their attack. Wild-eyed snake-men surged back out of the lake, throwing themselves on the blades of the fighters. Almost before the battle had been joined, it was over, the casters bobbing to the surface and swimming back for the opposite shore to dry off and redress. Ger’alin forced himself to smile a friendly smile when he saw Alayne’s head break the surface of the water. She scanned the crowds, looking relieved to see everyone well, waved, and began swimming back. Ger’alin watched her go, keeping himself from swimming after her by effort of sheer will.

“One down, one to go,” Zerith muttered as he walked about, looking for injuries to heal. “What’s the matter with you?” the priest asked, seeing a stricken look on Ger’alin’s face.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” the man sighed. “For now, let’s focus on finishing up this battle and moving on to the next,” he said, kicking at the naga corpse at his feet. He’d forgotten about the after-effects of a good, rousing fight. Ger’alin grit his teeth in frustration when he realized he was going to be sharing a room with Alayne tonight. “Let’s round 81

everyone up again and head to the northern pool. The druids must be finishing off the ones to the west even as we speak.” Zerith smiled at the fighter’s back. All was going according to plan. ~*~*~*~ Callie shuddered as they set her arm and leg. She might not feel pain as keenly as the living but having her limbs nearly severed hurt. Zerith hovered over her protectively, checking that the bandages and splints holding her broken arm and leg stable were doing their job. A Forsaken priest squatted on her other side, making suggestions which the sin’dorei followed carefully. More than once, the rogue nearly blacked out from the pain as the bones ground against each other.

“How is Ger’alin?” she asked, her voice tight with pain.

“He’ll be fine,” the priest said absently. “But I am not certain about Alayne.”

“What was it she did?” Callie whispered, closing her eyes. The agony seemed to recede as she let herself slip further into unconsciousness.

“I don’t know,” Zerith answered. “Jez’ral doesn’t, either. Whatever it was, it was effective. Now, let’s get you out of here and back to the inn.”

Zerith watched as the healers finished binding the wounds of the injured and secured them on the litters the druids had sent. The battle had seemed to go so well right up until it all went horribly wrong.

Flushed with the easy victory from the morning, the Disorder of Azeroth had made only minor alterations to their tactics. Alayne and the others who could use magic to enable them to remain underwater for much longer periods of time had gone off and taken up their positions at the far end of the lake. Alayne had been slightly tired and out-of-breath still from investigating the naga corpses from the first battle but her color was high and Zerith detected no signs of hypothermia from her or the others. So, he had let them carry on as planned, rotating out only those who were too likely to fall ill from further submersion in the chill waters of Zangarmarsh.

The rest of the Disorder had lined up near the stagnant, decaying area to the north of Swamprat Post. Making their way in an orderly line, they were able to swarm over the naga from the road while the underwater group picked off those submerged beneath the lake before joining their comrades on dry land and pressing the naga between them. Both sides had rotated their far groups, flanking the naga and encircling them. After that, the slaughter had seemed a done deal.

However, none of them had considered the threshers.

Just as the battle was beginning to wind down, Zerith had heard Callie cry out in pain and shock. A giant lobster-like creature was swimming up the shallows, holding the Forsaken in its vice-like claws and waving her the way a dog would shake a rat. The sea-monster had not lasted long against the Disorder of Azeroth but while Zerith had his hands full with tending to Callie and the others who had been injured by claw or poison, a few of the naga made their way out of the water and launched a desperate attack to avenge their brethren.

Several of them had focused on Alayne as if knowing that she was the leader of the underwater squad. Ger’alin had hurried to defend her and stumbled when the water grew too deep. One of the myrmidons had managed to plant a barbed spear in the paladin’s thigh, wrenching his leg out from under him and staining the crystalline waters with sin’dorei blood.

Then, Alayne had done something that Zerith still did not understand. The naga had suddenly ceased attack altogether. Their scaly sapphire bodies began to darken as crimson and purple sores appeared on them. A few took on a greenish hue. It looked almost as if they 82

were in the final stages of some kind of deadly contagion. Then, the naga had turned their spears on themselves.

“What was it she did?” the priest wondered. He’d never heard of magic that could do that. “I’ll have to get her to tell me about it when I’m done tending the wounded.” Focusing on his task, the priest set to tending those who needed him the most, setting aside concerns of his sister for a later time. ~*~*~*~ Alayne shivered as she finished drying off for the second time that day. Her eyes stung from keeping them open underwater and the chilly late evening air made her skin pebble. She tried to ignore the others around her, most pairing off to celebrate still being alive after such a close battle. She’d never felt the heat of victory in quite this manner before.

Usually, she was too tired to care and more relieved than excited to be alive. “Oh, to be blissfully unaware of everything again! Besides, Zerith would skin me if I even thought about that. All I need is a good book to take my mind off…the fact that this is really, really getting on my nerves,” she muttered to herself as she finished pulling on her robe and redoing the buttons. “I should just tell Ger’alin the truth. I’m sure he’d be forgiving. Then, he’ll understand why I have to ask him to stay away from me for a while. Light, I wish I could make myself believe that.”

“Believe what?” Jez’ral asked. He didn’t understand why Zerith had ordered Alayne to search the corpses for clues this morning. There had not been time to ask for a reason, though, with Zerith having his hands full trying to heal the many wounded. The man must have been crazy; not that his sister was much better. She’d been quite stubborn about completing the task, despite Jez’ral’s demands and pleas that she give over and get out of the water.

“Nothing,” she yipped, her voice going up several octaves. “Make noise from now on. You startled me.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, “My word, Alayne. Your face…you could pass for a night elf right now.”

“I’m freezing,” Alayne whispered, her teeth clicking together.

“I can see,” he said sincerely. “Let’s get you back to the inn. A hot bath, some warm food and you’ll be back to normal in no time. I’d have thought a young woman like you would weather the chill of the water and the night air better than an aged ruin like me,” he teased, chaffing her arms and hiding his concern. The woman felt like a block of ice.

“Light, Jez’ral, you moan like you’re four hundred. You’re not even one hundred and twenty,” she shivered.

“I do not need a woman who’s not even seen the change of two decades to tell me how decrepit I’m allowed to be,” he said mockingly.

“That must have hit a nerve,” she teased back. “Where is everyone?” she asked as they walked back through the crowd seated on the road near the southern side of the lake. “I don’t see Zerith, Dar’ja, or Ger’alin.”

“Zerith and Dar’ja went back to the Refuge after they finished helping with the last bit of healing. They both looked pretty worn out. Ger’alin was sent back with them. Zerith had to threaten to knock him out to get him to stay in the litter; the man couldn’t walk or grip the saddle with his leg… Light, woman, can you walk?” he asked, seeing her nearly topple over with cold and fatigue. Scooping her up, he rubbed his hands over her back, trying to warm her a bit and quickening his steps. She needed to be in bed. She would be lucky if she didn’t take ill from her long immersion in the cold water. “It was close there, right at the end,” he

83

said, desperate to keep her talking so she wouldn’t bite through her tongue the way her jaws were chattering.

“It was,” she shivered, remembering how desperately the casters had had to swim to keep the naga survivors from breaking through and overwhelming them. The melee ranks had caught the worst of it, though, being forced to wade hip-deep into the water and fight the serpents once it became apparent that they had gotten wise to the trick used to herd the others earlier in the afternoon and had forced the final moments of the battle onto ground, or rather, shallow water, where they were more agile. It had been sheer luck that no one had been killed, though several, including Ger’alin, had been seriously injured and almost drowned.

Alayne remembered pulling the sputtering Blood Knight back onto the shore as the battle neared its end. He’d taken a naga spear through the leg and had fallen, unable to find his footing in the slick mud.

“What was it you did to those naga around Ger’alin?” Jez’ral asked, recalling the same scene. The Blood Knight had been splashing, trying to pull himself up onto his good leg but too panicked to find purchase. Jez’ral had been swimming towards him when, suddenly, Alayne was there, grabbing the man by his back plate and hauling him out of the water.

Then…she’d cast a spell he’d not recognized, one that made rotting sores break out all over the serpent men, turning their turquoise scales an ugly, mottled purple and creating a foul stench. As the sores grew worse, the snakes grew more docile and then, without any explanation he could reach, the naga impaled themselves on their own spears.

“Something I learned in Northrend combined with knowing how to dominate lesser minds,” Alayne muttered. “And no, I won’t teach it to you. Light knows I wish I didn’t know how to do those things myself.”

“I don’t want to know,” he said quickly.

“I only did it because they were too close. I tried to terrify them into fleeing but couldn’t focus enough to make it stick,” she explained. “I didn’t have time to do anything else and I didn’t want to risk any of my spells landing on Ger’alin.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ve always wondered why you came back to being a warlock instead of honing the skills you learned…elsewhere. Most of the others who came back didn’t return to their old positions.”

“Because I don’t want to be one of them,” she replied. “I don’t like tapping into that power. I don’t like even knowing that it’s there to tap into. But I can’t get rid of it and I won’t teach it to anyone. Oh, Jez’ral, I’m not hungry,” she said when he started to sit her at a table in the inn. “I just want to go to sleep,” she muttered, her eyelids drooping.

“You should eat something or let me carry you down to the bathing rooms,” he said, concerned. “You’re still blue from being in that cold water so long.”

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbled. “I’ll wrap up in the blankets and won’t even notice I’m cold once I’m asleep. Just help me up to my room.”

“Have it your way, then,” he laughed, picking her up and carrying her again. “After I’m done tucking you in like a good little girl, I’m going down to soak the chill out of my ancient bones.”

“Don’t forget your cane, gramps,” she sighed tiredly. Reaching in her pocket when they were in front of the door, she tried to put the key in the lock, nearly dropping it with her shivering and shuddering as her body tried desperately to recover warmth.

“Let me take care of that,” Jez’ral said, setting her down and steadying her hand with his own. The door opened suddenly, Zerith standing there. His eyes widened when he saw just how chilled Alayne was and he ducked his head out into the hallway, shouting for Dar’ja.

Pulling the two warlocks into the room, he methodically began rubbing Alayne’s hands, shoulders, and arms, cursing beneath his breath.

84

“We’ll get you in bed soon enough,” the priest muttered. Dar’ja came running into the room, carrying a thick woolen nightgown. Zerith used his belt knife to cut through the swollen knots and then grabbed a towel to dry Alayne off while Dar’ja helped toremove the soaked robes and dress Alayne in the woolen nightgown. She tossed the dampened robes into a pile of other clothes, shuddering at the squishing thud they made on the floorboard. Alayne must have been swimming for hours to get them that sodden.

“Has she eaten anything?” Dar’ja asked, sounding concerned.

“She wouldn’t. She said she just wanted to go to sleep,” Jez’ral replied.

“Well, she can’t go to sleep just yet. We’ll need her to stay awake long enough to warm up,” Zerith mumbled, picking Alayne up. The woman looked dazed and confused from the sudden activity.

“What are you doing?” Jez’ral heard Ger’alin mumble. “Let me get on the floor,” the fighter started to say.

“No,” Zerith said curtly. “Alayne’s half-frozen. I’m putting her in with you for a few hours until she warms up to something above ‘glacial.’”

“Zerith!” Ger’alin said, sounding scandalized.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, man,” the priest growled, pulling back the covers with one hand and setting his sister in the bed with the other. “How long was she in the water, Jez’ral?”

“Four or five hours, probably, but only because…,” “I know. I’d completely forgotten about what I’d asked her to do this morning. You should probably go take a bath. I’ve had the attendants keeping the tubs filled with hot water.

If I thought Alayne wouldn’t go into shock, I’d have her down there right now. Dar’ja, go bring some extra blankets to pile on her.”

“Zerith,” Alayne shuddered, “I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, you can’t,” he said firmly. “You do that and you’ll wake up dead. You’re not going to sleep now, either. You are going to lay here next to your good friend Ger’alin and the two of you are going to have a friendly little chat to keep you awake. Yes, I know you’re tired and you want to sleep but you can’t. Alayne, stay with me here! You have got to stay awake until I come back in here and say it’s safe for you to go to sleep,” he pleaded. His sister seemed to be drifting further and further out of consciousness.“Ger’alin, you stay where you are!” he shouted when he noticed that Ger’alin was trying to crawl out of the bed.“I didn’t poultice that leg so you could make it worse by sleeping on the wooden floor!Besides, I need your help with her! You stay right where you are and keep that leg propped up!”

Pushing the protesting warlock down and pulling the covers over her, he stood over the bed, looking down worriedly. This was no prank; not anymore. Berating himself for almost killing her with his forgetfulness, he continued to chafe her hands, arms, shoulders, and face, breathing easier when her skin began to lighten. “Alayne!” he said loudly whenever she started to drift off to sleep.

“Zerith, she’s freezing!” Ger’alin said in shock. Alayne stared at the ceiling, not really seeing it, no longer really aware of anything other than her desire to just fall fast asleep. Ger’alin yelped and reached over, slapping her lightly to keep her from drifting off.

He began speaking to her frantically, calling up anything he could interest her in long enough to keep her from drifting into a sleep from which she would not wake.

“No, she’s this lovely shade of light blue because someone painted her skin,” the priest snapped, hiding his relief. Ger’alin seemed more eager to be of assistance than concerned with ‘protecting Alayne’s good name.’ “Look, I’m going to go and mix something for her to help keep her from getting ill. I need you to keep her warm and awake while I do that.”

85

“I think I can manage that,” Ger’alin said, looking concerned. He tried to sit up, groaning and falling back whenever the muscles in his leg moved. Cursing under his breath, he rolled on one side, using his free arm to rub Alayne’s arms and hands, watching as her skin began to lighten back to normal as her temperature rose.

“You get her arms, I’ll take her legs. The potion can wait,” Zerith muttered, reaching under the sheets and pinching her on the calf. “Can you feel that, Alayne?” he asked.

“Ouch!” she cried, returning almost to full wakefulness. She gazed around, confused.

She couldn’t really recall how she had gotten to her room.

“That’s a ‘yes’ if I’ve ever heard one,” Zerith chuckled, giddy with relief. “If you get tired, Ger’alin, just lay close to her. What she needs most is warmth and, frankly, that’s what I need you to give her. Keep her awake, though. I’m not too particular on how, mind you. If you need some privacy, just say the word,” he continued, his voice elaborately nonchalant.

“I would never…,” Ger’alin sputtered angrily.

“Look you,” Zerith sighed, “if you’re going to insist on taking this in the gutter, fine.

Take it in the gutter with my blessing on both of you! I’ll be back in a little bit with something to try to keep her from getting sick.” Zerith ducked out into the hallway before he could burst out laughing at the expression on his friend’s face. “Confusion, embarrassment, and hope,” he grinned to himself, “not a bad mix at all. Too bad she’s half-frozen, though,” he sighed, hurrying down to his own room to mix a potion to ward off infections.

Ger’alin glared at the door after the priest left. “If this is someone’s horrible idea of a prank, I’m going to ground them into powder! No, Alayne,” he sighed, seeing her start to drift off again. Chaffing her arms and face with one hand, he prodded her hard in the side with the other whenever she began to nod off. “I may ground them into powder regardless,” he muttered. “This is torture!” ~*~*~*~ “Where did you say the itchweed was?” Ger’alin asked the next morning. He and Alayne had snuck out of the inn at first light, determined to get back at the others for the recent round of not-very-amusing pranks. First Callie and now Zerith. Alayne wondered what Jez’ral had up his sleeve or if it would be Dar’ja’s turn next.

“Just south of the Refuge,” she muttered tiredly. Ger’alin had not let her fall asleep until an hour before daybreak, once her temperature had risen enough to pull her out of the danger zone. “I’m really sorry for keeping you up all night. After we find the itchweed and powder their clothes with it, you can take a nap.”

“Don’t worry about me so much,” he said gently. “I’m not the one who was blue with cold. I wonder what he was thinking.”

“Who? Zerith? I’ve given up trying to figure that one out. It seems to amuse all of them to keep throwing us together. This has to be Dar’ja’s idea of payback for the centaur wedding in Desolace.”

“We’ll be on our guard from now on. I hope we can leave this swamp soon. I’ll start sleeping in my tent again and that should put an end to this nonsense.”

“Indeed,” Alayne agreed, not looking at him at all. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be able to sleep without having to worry about someone shoving you in with me or me in with you.”

“You must be looking forward to being secure in your own bed,” he replied, also not looking at her. Neither said anything; the silence stretched out into awkwardness. Finally, Alayne sighed and turned to look at Ger’alin, a confession ready on her lips. As she moved, she saw something familiar out of the corner of her eye. Smiling, she nodded.

86

“There it is,” she said, pointing. “I’ll hold the sack while you pluck off the leaves.

Don’t let any touch you. It will give you a rash that will last for days. It would make that nap nigh on impossible.”

“I’ll be careful, then,” he grinned. “How did you learn about this, anyway? Isn’t your brother the tree-hugger?”

“Mir’el and Jez’ral,” she answered, blushing furiously. “It’s a very long, very disturbing, very explicit tale that you should never, under any circumstances, allow them to tell you. I know I was much happier before I heard it.”

“Then why did you…,” “Callie and her big mouth.”

“We’ll put an extra dose in for her, then,” he said, smiling. Alayne smiled back and, for a moment, Ger’alin almost forgot to breathe. Alayne’s expression changed from one of delight to one of slight confusion as he continued to stare at her.

“Ger’alin, what’s…?” she asked.

“Ssh,” he said, his ears twitching as he heard voices from nearby. Alayne listened intently as well, recognizing Zerith, Callie, Dar’ja, and Jez’ral’s voices. “I’ll bet they’re up to something,” he mouthed. “Let’s sneak up on them and see what they’re plotting.” Alayne nodded and set the sack down, following him closely and quietly. The other four were sitting by the lake, skipping stones.

“I can’t believe they snuck out so early,” Jez’ral was saying as Alayne and Ger’alin hid themselves behind one of the looming mushrooms. “He could barely stand last night and she was like a block of ice. Are they both crazy?”

“If the innkeeper has the right of it, they’re both angry,” Zerith sighed. “He said he overheard them vowing to make us regret the constant throwing them together.”

“And we will,” Alayne mouthed, grinning at Ger’alin.

“I wonder why they keep doing it?” he said back silently. Alayne shrugged, somewhat guiltily. She suspected Zerith was trying to “help out” in his own way. The warlock resolved to speak with the priest and explain that he needed to leave poor Ger’alin alone.

“Okay, so trying to trick him into climbing into bed with her didn’t work,” Callie said, lifting a finger. “Zerith’s idiotic plan didn’t work either.”

“Zerith’s idiotic plan?” Ger’alin mouthed, looking confused.

“It wasn’t completely my idea,” he growled defensively. “I seem to remember some of you arguing for it. Besides, in the rush of what happened after that second battle yesterday, I’d completely forgotten about it!” Zerith said defensively. “If you think I haven’t been kicking myself for almost killing my sister, you’re wrong. Why else would I be out here looking for her? She shouldn’t be out of bed and neither should he.”

“Still, it didn’t work,” Callie sighed.

“Under normal circumstances and me not forgetting everything because I was busy keeping people alive, it might have. After all, he had to keep his hands on her all night to get her warmed up enough. I would have figured that that plus the normal thrill you get after surviving a battle would have been enough to put paid to all this nonsense.”

“Zerith!” Callie said, sounding shocked. “You’re a priest!”

Zerith groaned. “I’m a priest, not a monk! I’m also a married man who knows very well the ways that men and women react when put in a situation that would let them get away with it. I seem to recall that being how Dar’ja and I got married! Besides, neither one of them is a priest!” he shouted, angry at himself.

“We should just tell them,” Dar’ja sighed, reaching over to place a calming hand on her husband’s leg. “This constant ‘putting them in the same room or trying to trick them into it’ is just going to get us in trouble and make things worse.”

“What are they trying to trick us into?” Alayne wondered. “And why?”

87

“It is becoming painfully obvious that they aren’t going to actually tell each other, no matter how much we want them to,” Callie sighed.

“I told you, Alayne can be so dense sometimes that she’s going to develop her own gravitational pull,” Jez’ral joked.

“If only Ger’alin would get caught in her orbit,” Callie grinned. “So, we’re agreed, we just sit them down when we find them and tell them.”

“Their reactions will be priceless,” Dar’ja agreed.

“Ger’alin, how I love you!” Jez’ral said, mimicking his assistant’s alto voice. “I’ve been moping around for weeks pining away for you!”

Before they could say another word, Alayne sprinted off, mortified. Ger’alin gaped at what he had just heard and then stared at the woman who was running away from him as quickly as her weary legs would carry her. He followed after her quickly and silently, relief and joy tugging his lips into a near-smirking grin. ~*~*~*~ He caught up to Alayne nearly on the other side of Zangarmarsh. She was leaning against a giant mushroom, one hand clutching her side while she gasped for breath and wiped tears away from her cheeks. He walked up behind her, hoping she wouldn’t bolt again, dragging his leg and wishing he’d thought to swing back by the Refuge to get his horse.

“Alayne?” he said softly, kindly, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Alayne, what’s the matter? What, do you think I’ll be angry or upset with you? Talk to me,” he whispered, hating the way that she was shuddering and sobbing, refusing to even look at him. “I’m not upset at all,” he continued, hoping to calm her. “Actually, I…Alayne, please calm down!” he pleaded, feeling a lump forming in his own throat. “Were they just teasing or were they being serious? Just tell me the truth; I won’t be upset either way.”

“Light, forgive me,” she said, her voice quavering and breaking. “No, they weren’t teasing. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“How long have you…,” “I don’t know…it all started when I couldn’t find a place to read and I saw you down by the lake. You looked so handsome and happy there and all of a sudden I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Then I started thinking about how nice and sweet and kind you were and how you always used to make me laugh and how I could sometimes tell you things I couldn’t even tell Zerith and then the next thing I knew I was fighting myself to keep from throwing myself at you constantly thinking about how I just wanted to be close to you always but whenever I let myself get close to you, all I could think about was how much I just wanted to tell you everything but then I know that you think of me as a sister and I didn’t want to disgust you and I figured I would get over it soon enough…”

“Breathe, woman,” he whispered, feeling protective of her and wishing she would turn around to see the look on his face. He thought his heart might fly out of his chest with joy.

“And then I saw you with Ta’sia and I wanted to kill the both of you but I couldn’t because you would probably be upset with me if I killed your girlfriend because I thought she was even though she wasn’t and I really, really, really wanted to beat the ever-living snot out of her, you know. So, I came out here to get away from you because I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I hated that because you were with her and she seemed nice, I know, it was an act, but she seemed nice and I liked her but I really didn’t want to be around the pair of you so I came out here with Jez’ral…”

“Take another breath, Alayne,” he said, his grin growing broader as his heart continued to pound in eagerness and relief.

88

“Came out here with him and Mir’el was telling me that since I’m practically twenty or will be next winter I should start looking and there were lots of men in Outland but I didn’t want to look because I wanted you but you were with her. And I really wanted to kill her sometimes because I was so jealous but then you came out here following me and she came and the two of you seemed happy sometimes but I kept hoping you would break up and then you did and she blamed it on me and I felt horrible and Zerith and Dar’ja found out and I was terrified that Callie would find out and then tell you about it and I’m really sorry about this whole thing and can we stay friends because I really am sorry and I’ll get over it one day and I’ll try not to be jealous ever again but I can’t stay here another second because this is driving me crazy having you so close! I feel like you’re carrying around a little piece of my soul and you don’t even notice it and...”

“Catch your breath, Alayne. Is that everything?” he grinned, feeling as if his head would float right off of his shoulders.

“Yes. Mostly. I may have forgotten one or two points but I can’t remember them right now but that is the main bit. I’m really sorry,” she said, shivering with a combination of nerves and weariness.

“Is that why you were moping around back home?” he whispered in her ear, keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Yes.” “You think I’m handsome?”

“Yes. And charming and sweet and caring and wise in the ways of common sense which is something I envy and respect you for on top of the fact that you are brave and courageous and fun to be around with a wonderful sense of humor…”

“Do you realize that you babble and ramble when you’re nervous?” he chuckled softly in her ear. He felt her shiver and grinned at her reaction.

“I’ll shut up now.”

“Let me know when you’ve got your breath back.”

“I’m fine,” she said, drawing a ragged and shuddering breath. Ger’alin watched her until it seemed that her breathing was mostly back to normal.“I’m sorry about all this,” she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and turning to face him. “It’s just that…”

“Alayne,” he whispered. She opened one eye cautiously, afraid to look at him. Her expression changed from one of dread to one of absolute bewilderment when she saw the man smiling at her, his face lit up like the sun. She had less than a second to wonder at it before she found her feet dangling off the ground. Ger’alin’s arms wrapped around her, pressing her against him as his lips pressed against hers, first tentatively and then hungrily.

Alayne stared ahead in amazement before closing her eyes and kissing him back just as passionately as he was kissing her. She snaked her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself more tightly against him and burying her fingers in his long hair.

“Light, woman, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that!” he said minutes later while she leaned her cheek on his shoulder and tried to catch her breath. She chuckled; he sounded a touch breathless himself. Whispering softly in her ear, he said, “You know, I have just a little confession to make myself…” ~*~*~*~ “Do you want to go back and try to find that itchweed?” Alayne asked as they began walking back towards the Cenarion Refuge.

“Yes. They deserve it for the constant shoving us in bed together,” he laughed.

“Speaking of that, what do you want to do about telling them?”

89

“Oh, I don’t know,” she grinned. “Half of me wants to keep this between us and let them find out at some point in the future.”

“And the other half?”

“Would like to keep it between us for the rest of the day so that Zerith doesn’t make us stop sharing a room. Light, but I could use a good nap,” she sighed. “I’ll take the floor.

You’re limping,” she noticed. “I’m sorry for running so far. Light, we’re clear on the other side of Zangarmarsh!”

“Don’t be. It was worth the chase,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Though, do you think your fel steed could carry both of us? I didn’t get Lucky.” His face turned crimson when Alayne doubled over laughing so hard that tears streamed from her eyes. “Okay, that was not what I meant,” he sighed, grinning. “That’s right, laugh it up, woman.”

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed. “Yes, he’d probably carry both of us. We’ll take it slow,” she said slyly.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” “I won’t laugh at you anymore, I promise.”

“Don’t promise that,” he chuckled. “I like seeing you laugh. I like seeing you smile, or sleep, or read…okay, I like seeing you, end of statement.” Alayne gave him a smile that lit up her entire face, rivaling the sun for brightness, as she summoned her fel steed. Pulling herself up, she helped Ger’alin climb up behind her, sighing contentedly when he put his arms around her as she clucked the demonic horse to a walk. “So, where do we go from here?”

“We’ll just follow the road back east. It should lead us straight into the Refuge.”

“No,” he laughed, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. You meant about us,” she smiled. “Well, I’m content to take each day as it comes. And I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You need to keep your leg propped up.”

“I will put my sword between us but I do not want to be apart from you anymore than I have to be,” he said. “I like watching you sleep. I like listening to you babble in your sleep.”

“I have to admit, I did miss hearing you snore and ramble when first Jez’ral and I came out to Outland,” she grinned. “What does ‘putting your sword between us’ mean?”

“A legend you don’t know about?” he asked in mock horror.

“It’s not an elven one, I know that much.”

“Old human tale; some man was tasked with escorting his tribal leader’s son’s future wife to their tribal grounds. The man set out on his journey and, when he first laid eyes on the bride-to-be, he was smitten with her, and she with him. He had given his oath, though, to his tribal leader. That night, when they stopped to make camp, they camped in a small cave for safety. To show that he would not touch her, he laid his sword between them and made her swear to stab him with it if he gave into temptation to break his oath.”

“And then what happened?”

“I’ve forgotten,” he said, smiling ruefully. “The simple fact is that if one of us is going to sleep on the floor, it will be me. Actually, Alayne…Light, help me, I know that we’ve been together all of maybe a half hour at this point. I know that you have the same notions of propriety that I have and I know that my father would come back from the dead and kill me if he could for rushing this…but…”

“But?” Alayne asked, feeling her stomach hover up around her shoulders.

“As I was saying, I don’t want us to be apart. The whole year you were gone, I felt as if part of me, the best part, had vanished. All I could do to ease the pain was drink until I could barely stand! I know this is sudden. I’m willing to wait until roses bloom on Icecrown 90

Glacier and Arthas remembers his heart if that’s what you want. Just promise me you won’t ever…or rather…I guess what I’m getting at is…”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who babbles when nervous,” Alayne smiled, looking back over her shoulder. Ger’alin flushed and began stammering. Oddly, that calmed Alayne down further. “I like it,” she laughed, giggling at the look of chagrin on his face.

“How can you put up with an oaf like me?” he sighed.

“Easy,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I put up with you because I love you.”

“You…I love you, too,” he grinned. “Well, what I’m beating around the bush about is this: I want to marry you.” He held his breath, feeling fire and ice course through his veins while she pondered the question. His face burned; he felt like an oaf, saying it out like that, scarcely even an hour after kissing her for the first time.

“You want to marry me?” she said slowly, wondering if she’d just heard that correctly.

“Yes,” he said nervously. “I know it’s sudden but…”

“It’s not,” she grinned. “I think we should go ahead and get married, especially considering that we’ve been engaged for,” she stopped to calculate, “almost two years now.”

Ger’alin worked that out, laughing when he realized she was counting the time he’d promised to marry her after waking up in her room following a night of drinking.

“I was serious then and I’m serious now,” he laughed. “Would you?”

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you,” she laughed happily. Ger’alin turned her to face him and kissed her again, this time even more thoroughly than he had the first time. “I should agree to marry you more often,” she said dizzily when he finally let her catch her breath again.Snuggling up against his chest and clucking to the fel steed to start walking, she sighed, “Now, let’s get back to the Refuge and take a nap. You don’t have to put your sword between us, though. I think the innkeeper –not to mention Zerith –would be upset if we wound up needing stitches because we cut ourselves on it in our sleep. Honestly, that sounds like an absolutely barbaric custom,” she muttered, sounding a trifle annoyed when Ger’alin buried his face in her shoulder and laughed until tears streamed from his eyes. ~*~*~*~ Zerith and the others slunk back to the inn with the noon sun. They’d seen no sign of Alayne or Ger’alin. “We’ll round up the entire Disorder of Azeroth and go out looking for them,” he sighed. The other three nodded wearily. “Tau’re,” he said, seeing the tauren sitting in the hallway outside of Alayne’s room. “I need you to gather up everyone who can sit a saddle. Ger’alin and Alayne are missing.”

“No, they aren’t,” the tauren said, his deep voice sounding amused. “They’re asleep.

They came back around mid-morning.”

“They did?”

“Yes. Alayne was dragging a sack filled with plant samples and helping Ger’alin limp around. I don’t think either of them got much sleep so, after they’d washed up, they said they would be napping and asked me to let you know.”

“I see. They’re both in there, asleep,” he said flatly.

“I suppose they’re asleep. They just ducked in there about a half-hour ago.”

“Thank you, Tau’re,” he said, moving around the tauren to knock on the door.

Without waiting for an invitation, he shoved it open, surprised to find it unlocked. He began backing out of the room silently when he noticed that, just as Tau’re had said, the two were sound asleep. Apparently they had come to some accommodation about sharing the bed.

Ger’alin lay on his back with his leg propped up beneath the covers. His soft snores and occasional speech did not disturb Alayne at all. She lay next to him, shivering in her sleep.

91

On some level, the paladin seemed aware of it because whenever she shuddered, his arm, stretched under and around her, tightened, pulling her in closer to him. Alayne wore the thick woolen nightdress Dar’ja had put on her and had wrapped her hands in the long sleeves.

Zerith studied them from the door, half-expecting some kind of prank on their part. However, their slow, even breaths finally convinced the priest that they really were asleep. Tiptoeing the rest of the way out of the room, he closed the door softly and shook his head.

“What’s going on in there?” Callie asked, craning her neck to try to see over Zerith’s shoulder as he finished pulling the door closed.

“They’re sound asleep,” he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips. “I guess they must have been pretty upset about what we did last night. And, knowing Alayne, she would have wanted to get out to work off the steam. Ger’alin probably went with her to keep her from getting sick and then they came back here and are sound asleep. They look so cute,” he chuckled.

“I want to see,” Callie whined.

“No,” Zerith said, shaking his head. “Let them sleep. Light knows that they probably were awake until dawn. I’ll go in there in a few hours and wake them up to eat and give both of them something to take against illness. Now, we’d better go see plants they gathered. I’ve been wanting to get a close look at several of the species found in these parts.”

The rogue followed Zerith to the room he and Dar’ja were sharing. Jez’ral and she were already in there waiting to hear what the priest had to say. “They’re asleep,” he said, describing the scene he’d witnessed when he’d peaked in on them. “Where’s the bag?” he asked.

“What bag?” Jez’ral muttered, mystified.

“Tau’re said that Alayne came back here dragging a bag full of plant samples. I didn’t see it in their room so I assumed she’d carried it in here.”

“Well, there was an empty satchel over there with the wash,” Dar’ja said slowly. “It looked like it’d been loaded with leaves of various kinds. But, I shook it out the window before I put it in with the wash again. It was empty, though, so I don’t think your samples were in there.”

“I’ll just have to wait until they wake up to ask her where she put them, then,” Zerith nodded. “Now, while we’re all here, I want to know how long you’re planning to stay here in Zangarmarsh before moving on, Jez’ral. And, let’s come up with some more possible avenues for getting those two together. Only, let’s keep these plans out of the “nearly getting one or both of them killed” level of danger.”

Zerith flopped down on the bed and Dar’ja sat down next to him. Callie took the seat she’d just left and Jez’ral furrowed his brow in thought. After several minutes of silence, the warlock glanced up, confused to see Zerith wriggling as if he were trying to scratch an itch in the middle of his back. Dar’ja was rubbing unconsciously at her legs. Jez’ral grinned ruefully when he realized that he was scratching the back of his neck absently. Then, when he glanced over at Callie and saw the Forsaken squirming in her seat, his bemusement turned to anxiety.

“I can’t come up with anything,” the priest muttered irritably as his twitching increased. “And, I’m starting to feel as if I might be coming down with something myself.”

“You could be,” Dar’ja muttered sullenly. “Yesterday was enough to make anyone ill. I know I’m not feeling so great myself right now.”

“I feel as if the back of my neck is on fire,” Jez’ral said carefully.

“I’m just itchy,” Callie added. “I guess it’s just nerves.”

Zerith rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself off the bed. The mattress crinkled oddly, making crackling noises as the priest and his wife shifted on it. Jez’ral’s eyes opened wider in alarm. He shifted on his own seat, hearing a similar noise. Swearing softly, he launched himself out of the chair and pulled the two younger elves off the bed before he 92

tore the sheets off of it. “Oh no!” he shouted. The bed was covered liberally with a plant that looked very much like one he knew. Going over to the chairs, he lifted the cushions off them, seeing the same leaves spread over them. The itching sensation increased as he identified the cause.

“What is it?” Zerith asked.

“Itchweed,” Jez’ral groaned. “I’m going to kill her.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne cautiously opened one eye when she heard the door close. Tiptoeing over to it, she listened intently for Zerith’s footsteps to recede. She stifled a giggle when she overheard what her brother was saying to Callie. Then, the two of them began to walk away. Moving quickly, she shoved the armoire against the door. Ger’alin rolled off the bed and began pulling out the shield weights he had brought into the room from beneath the bed. Sliding them over the floor, he limped to the armoire and helped Alayne heft them inside, giving the large obstruction a bit more weight. Satisfied that it would take Tau’re running at full speed to force open the door, he grinned at Alayne as the pair of them made their way back to the bed.

“They’re going to kill us,” he chuckled.

“They’d have to get in here first,” she grinned, laying down next to him and making certain his leg was propped up comfortably before she pulled the blankets over both of them.

“I wonder if they’ll figure it out before Dar’ja and Zerith pull back the sheets to go to sleep tonight.”

“Probably,” she giggled. “Still, they deserve it. I wonder how long they intended to keep torturing us instead of telling us the truth.”

“Well, I’m just happy we know,” he smiled. “It makes sharing the room much less stressful now that I don’t have to worry about confessing everything while I’m unconscious and then waking up to you staring at me in horror.”

“It does,” she agreed. “It means I no longer have to feel guilty about wanting to do this,” she grinned as she snuggled up against his side and began stroking his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her fingertips.

“It also means I don’t have to feel guilty for wanting to do this,” he said as he tucked a finger under her chin and pulled her face close to his.

Several minutes later, he pulled back and smiled at her. “You know,” he teased, only half-joking, “maybe we should go get your brother and just get it over with so that I don’t have to feel guilty about wanting to do more.”

“I’m sure we can both be patient for a few days…or weeks…until he gets over being angry at us,” she said breathlessly. “Or, if not, I’m sure we could convince one of the druids to marry us.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he agreed, kissing her again.

A sudden banging on the door broke the kiss.

“Alayne Dawnrunner!” Jez’ral shouted angrily. “I am going to skin you and salt your hide for this!”

“Sounds like someone’s upset with you,” Ger’alin teased.

“Ask me if I care,” she retorted, snuggling against him.

“Do you care?”

“Not a whit.”

“Alayne!” Zerith shouted. “Alayne, Ger’alin! Get out here right now!”

“Would you like to go first or should I?” Ger’alin asked.

“Let them wait. I don’t feel like moving just yet. I’m too comfortable where I am.”

93

The door clattered against the weighted-down armoire as someone out in the hall tried to open it. “Some people are trying to sleep here!” Ger’alin shouted.

“Some people are about to be in a lot of trouble if they don’t move whatever is blocking their door!” Zerith threatened direly.

“Those same some people are too damned happy where they are right now doing what they’re doing to be bothered to get up and move a very heavily weighted-down armoire,” Alayne shouted back. “That’s a rather obvious do-not-disturb sign if you ask me!”

“Get out here right. This. Minute!” Jez’ral roared.

“Wait,” Zerith called out hesitantly and suspiciously, “what are you doing in there?”

“We were making out until you came bothering us!” Ger’alin replied loudly.

“That’s not funny!”

“It wasn’t intended to be a joke!”

“That’s still not funny!”

“What, do you want a peep show or something?”

“That’s even less funny!”

“The two of you can’t hide out in there forever, you know!”

“We’ll come out when we’re damned well done making out and have decided to go ahead and get married so we can push things a little further if you catch my drift, Reverend Father,” Ger’alin said loudly. “Now, could you kindly quit trying to break into our room?

We’ve always given you and Dar’ja the privacy you required.”

Zerith swore loudly. “Get your asses out here in this hallway right this minute!”

“I’m sorry,” Alayne shouted back, “but I’m afraid that my gravitational pull is too great to allow that to happen!”

There was dead silence from the corridor.

“I think he may have fainted,” Ger’alin quipped. “Now, where were we?”

“Right here,” she chuckled as she leaned back over him.

“The two of you have exactly ten seconds to get out here in this hallway fully dressed before I have someone set fire to this door and that armoire and come in there after you myself!” Zerith yelled.

“No need to do that,” Ger’alin called out helpfully. “It’s quite hot enough in here already!”

Zerith began laughing, his laughter tinged with an edge of panic. “Please, for the love of all that is holy, get out here now!”

“No,” Alayne called out.

“Come on!”

“No,” she repeated. “You’ll just throw the itchweed at us. I know how your minds work. Now, if the itching is getting to you, go look under your bed. There’s a jar of ointment there. Rub that on and don’t scratch and you should be fine in another couple of days. You will want to have the bed sheets and your clothes thoroughly laundered, though. Tell the druids to use the strongest soap they have. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” she trailed off, grinning at Ger’alin before she kissed him again. This time, neither of them let the continued banging at the door or shouting from the hallway interrupt them. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin and Alayne gingerly made their way down the stairs for supper. They held hands and grinned like fools at each other while keeping an eye out for the rest of the Disorder of Azeroth. The couple knew they were in for some teasing over the events of the day but neither one cared. Only their stomachs growling at them had convinced them to get out of bed and come down to find food.

94

A swell of applause interspersed with crude banter came crashing over the common room as the two left the staircase. Alayne blushed and ducked her head while Ger’alin threw his head back and laughed heartily. Alayne tried to hide behind the paladin, embarrassed at the attention they were drawing. Ger’alin bent down and kissed her, earning another round of applause, and then led her to the table where the others were sitting.

Dar’ja, Zerith, Jez’ral, and Callie were a comic sight covered in ointment. The four glared at the couple but could not restrain the grins and smiles trying to spread across their faces. Tau’re carried over a large plate of meat and set it down in front of Ger’alin with a comment that the man would need his stamina that made Alayne blush even more furiously than she was already. The warlock dashed to the kitchens to fetch her own food, not certain she wanted to trust what the others would bring her.

“So, you two finally figured it out,” Zerith snorted. “I’m still mad at both of you about the itchweed. That was just mean. But, I want to know how you figured it out and why you didn’t say anything if you overheard us plotting this morning.”

“That’s actually how we found out,” Ger’alin said lightly. “Neither one of us got much sleep last night. Between me fighting to keep myself from being less than a perfect gentleman and her being half-frozen, it wasn’t a night for restful slumber. Once she finally did warm up a little, she was angry. So, I convinced her to rest until just a hair after dawn when she insisted on going down and taking a bath. After that, she said she was still too angry to sleep and that she was going to go out and gather some itchweed we’d found yesterday. I decided to go with her and, long story short, we stumbled across the four of you looking for us. We overheard what you were saying and then Alayne bolted clear over to Nagrand before I caught up with her. She and I had a very calm, very mature discussion over what we’d heard and then decided, quite calmly and rationally with no emotion involved whatsoever that our feelings were mutual and that we should get married.”

“What do you mean rationally and without emotion?” Dar’ja scoffed.

“By that I mean that we let our mouths do all the talking.”

“Were vocal cords involved at all?” Callie snorted.

“Not really, no.”

“You want to get married?” Zerith asked, clinging to the only bit he had understood and cared to concentrate on.

“Yes,” Ger’alin said with such simple sincerity that Zerith could no longer be angry with him. The priest grinned and then started laughing. “Would you be willing to do the honors once we get back to Silvermoon? Alayne says that Mir’el would want to be there otherwise we’d be having the wedding right here and right now.”

“You two will have to get separate rooms if you’re going to wait that long,” Zerith chuckled.

“No, we will not,” Alayne said as she sat back down at the table. “We can restrain ourselves and we’d much rather spend the time we have together. Besides,” she added with a chuckle, “it’s nice to have someone who won’t mock you for babbling in your sleep.”

“Very well,” the priest conceded with a smile. “Be good, then, and I’ll marry you both when we get back to Silvermoon. And no centaur vows. I promise.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith groaned and pushed himself up, his ears twitching back and forth wildly. “That had better not be what it sounds like,” he muttered irritably, hearing shouts. Listening for another few seconds, he reached over and shook Dar’ja awake. “Wake up,” he hissed as he leapt out of the bed. “I think we’re under attack.” Her eyes popped open and she sat bolt upright as an inhuman shriek rang through the inn. Following her husband’s example, she 95

quickly dressed and grabbed her sword, running out in the hallway only seconds behind Zerith.

Fighters and magi from the Disorder of Azeroth fought in the hallways, trying to push the naga invaders out of the building. Zerith was pressed against the wall, Ger’alin standing in front of him hacking away at one of the snake-men who had made it up the stairs.

“Where’s Alayne?” Dar’ja asked, pitching her voice so she could be heard over the din of battle. Ger’alin shook his head irritably, nodding towards the stairs. Dar’ja flanked the serpent he fought, helping him to bring it down. Glancing the direction he’d nodded, she ran to keep her sister-by-marriage from being overwhelmed. She could hear Ger’alin limping after her, cursing under his breath as Alayne cast her spells while her fel guard blocked the stairway, preventing naga from coming any further. Jez’ral stood next to her, his own fel guard fighting alongside Alayne’s, all of his concentration centered on keeping the thing enslaved. Ger’alin grabbed the handrail and swung himself over and in front of the fel guards, his leg nearly giving out when he landed. Dar’ja pushed in front of the two warlocks, reaching out and channeling Light-energies into Ger’alin to keep the man on his feet while he and the two demons pressed the naga back down to the main floor of the inn.

“What is going on here?” Zerith wondered aloud as he hurried down the stairs after Ger’alin and Dar’ja had cleared them. Alayne shook her head and shrugged. Jez’ral dismissed his fel guard, freeing himself to cast spells without having to worry about the thing running amuck. Dark circles under the man’s eyes attested to the effort staying in the battle was taking from him.

“Get out of there!” Ger’alin screamed from near the front of the inn. “They’ve set it aflame! No, Alayne, where are you going, get out of there!” he called after the woman.

Alayne was running back to their room, gathering her books and the samples she and Jez’ral had collected in HellfirePeninsula. Out in the hallway, she could hear everyone else running to get out of the inn. Slinging her sack over her shoulder and praying that the samples wouldn’t break open, she hurried after them, coughing as the smoke began to billow in from outside. Ger’alin met her in the hallway, waving his hand in front of his face, his eyes blazing in anger and fear. “Books aren’t worth dying for!” he shouted at her as he grabbed her arm and hauled her down the stairs. She staggered after him, coughing and waving her free hand in front of her eyes, trying to brush away the stinging smoke. Once out in the street, Ger’alin let go of her and collapsed, his leg finally giving way. “Woman, what was going through your mind?”

“That it would be a shame to have to trek all the way back through HellfirePeninsula and redo all the work we’ve already done,” she snapped, glaring down at him. “I didn’t realize the fire was spreading so quickly. I’m sorry.”

“Just don’t ever do anything like that again. If I tell you to get out, you get out and leave the books behind! Better they burn than you.” Alayne gave a guilty start as some of the samples clinked together in the bag behind her. “That fire didn’t spread that quickly. I think the naga must have set it alight before any of us were even awake,” he grumbled, rubbing his leg. The druids were working quickly, the two ancients throwing water from the lake onto the burning buildings. The fires were flickering out and, for a wonder, most of the buildings remained standing. Ger’alin blinked when it looked as if the buildings were growing, the wood and vines moving to cover holes, burns, and damage from the fighting.

“At any rate, we’d better get out of here,” Zerith said as he jogged past. “Callie and Davril managed to turn the mounts loose from the stables. Most of them have bolted, though.

We’ll make for Swamprat Post,” he announced in a carrying tone. “Everyone regroup there.

Try to stay together and keep your weapons ready. Just because the naga have retreated doesn’t mean the battle’s over. Ger’alin,” he said in a softer tone, “if I can spare the energy

96

before we leave, I’ll heal that leg completely. Don’t look so grateful,” he said, cocking his eyebrows at the Blood Knight and the warlock, “we might need you to fight.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith’s jaw dropped as he and the last stragglers from the Cenarion Refuge rode up to Swamprat Post. Only ashes remained of the Horde’s base. Ger’alin strode through the debris, lifting still-smoking pieces of wood up and tossing them aside, digging through the rubble for survivors. Jez’ral snorted when he saw a fel guard walk over and help the Blood Knight lift a heavy beam from the remnants of the settlement’s inn. “I’ll bet Mir’el never envisioned a demon doing that,” he thought to himself.

“What happened here?” Zerith asked, jogging up to Tau’re.

“The naga attacked here as well. They weren’t as lucky as we were. Most were caught asleep. The guards were quickly overrun. Ger’alin sent riders out to Zabra’jin, to see how they fared. He thinks the Alliance was attacked as well; we can see smoke from where Telredor should be.”

“We must have really made them angry,” Zerith sighed softly. “Tell any Forsaken who are able to stand watch to do so. I’ll make it up to them later. Tell all of the others who aren’t currently involved in digging through the debris to get some sleep. Tell Callie to have the watchers wake us at mid-morning,” he ordered the tauren. Tau’re nodded and stomped off to do as directed. The priest hurried over to the smoldering remains of the inn, glancing around to see if any needed healing. Seeing none whom he could help, he stepped gingerly through the rubble to help Ger’alin lift another heavy wooden plank. The Blood Knight glared at him when Zerith nearly dropped the heavy board, nodding when Alayne’s fel guard took up from the priest and helped him heave it out of the way. “This is our fault,” Zerith whispered to Ger’alin when the man stopped to catch his breath.

“No, it’s not,” Ger’alin growled breathlessly.

“But we stirred them up. We’ll have to figure out some way to make amends. Though, how we can make up for getting dozens of innocent people killed is beyond me,” he sighed.

“Zerith, shut up and use your brain for a second,” Ger’alin muttered as he bent to shove more flooring out of the way. “No one here,” he sighed, seeing mud. Climbing over to another section, he and the fel guard began clearing through it, stopping only to give directions to some of the tauren and trolls who were nearby. Zerith stared at him. “Think it over, man. How long would it have taken you to plan and coordinate an attack against three well-guarded positions, possibly five?”

“But I’m not a military…”

“Yes, you are. You’ve got a gift for it. And, you’ve got me and several others who did train in this. I can tell you that it would take me a few weeks to do enough reconnaissance to plan an attack on this scale. Our ‘surrounding an open area and forcing them out of the water’ trick has nothing on this.”

“So, you’re saying our attacks had nothing to do with this?”

“No, I’m saying that our attacks didn’t cause them to do this. They had to have been planning it before we even stepped through the Dark Portal.”

“And you call yourself an oaf,” Zerith mumbled. “Very well, if our attacking them didn’t bring this retaliation, what would have?”

“Control of the water and domination of Zangarmarsh,” came the reply in troll accents. Zerith turned around to see a troll climbing up the rubble to join the others. His armor and insignia marked him as a person of rank. “These damned naga have been dogging our heels ever since we came out here,” the troll continued, bending down beside Ger’alin to help the man lift what appeared to be the wall of a room. “No one here,” he muttered sourly.

97

“I think you can stop now. If there be anyone under all this, they aren’t going to be alive.

Gotta take care of the living, brothers.”

“May I ask your name?” Zerith asked formally, bowing slightly.

“I’m Denjai, the troll appointed by Thrall and Vol’jin to oversee Horde activities in Zangarmarsh. Normally, I stay over in Zabra’jin. However, Zabra’jin is just a big pile of smokin’ rubble. I’d been hoping that Swamprat woulda fared better. Guess not. So, you’re the leader of them that attacked the naga. Pleased to meet you. Good job.”

“Thank you,” Zerith said, looking around uncomfortably. “Though, this whole thing might be our fault.”

“Did you make Zangarmarsh the only place in Outland, other than Nagrand, where you can find reliable sources of pure water?” Denjai asked. Zerith shook his head. “Then, it’s not your fault. I told you; we been fighting the damned naga for months now. It was only a matter of time before that witch Vashj got reinforcements to help her take us all out. And me, I been too focused on the ogres to keep an eye on her like I should have. No, brother, this ain’t your fault. If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine.”

“Did you just say Vashj? As in Lady Vashj?” Zerith asked. Denjai nodded tiredly.

“Why would she attack the Horde?”

“Why would a blasted snake do anything?” Denjai sighed rhetorically. “We thought the same thing when we first got out here. We figured we’d have a leg up on the Alliance, what with your prince being all buddy-buddy with Vashj. We sent emissaries to meet with her. When they didn’t come back, we sent others. One of those managed to make it back and tell us what the snakes were doing. We decided not to send any more diplomats to serpents who think it’s acceptable to skin them alive.”

“But…Vashj…and Prince Kael’thas…”

“Hey man, snakes are crazy bad. Maybe she decided to do her own thing. Maybe Kael don’t want nothing do with her. Maybe there’s something going on we don’t know about. It’s six up, half a dozen down. You come with me,” he grinned, motioning for the priest and the Blood Knight to follow him. “We’ll try to figure out a way to make that bitch pay.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne yawned and stretched out, apologizing when her hand brushed against someone. She grinned when she saw Ger’alin laying across from her, snoring softly.

Glancing on her other side, she saw Zerith curled up in a ball. She stifled a laugh when she sat up and saw that Dar’ja was trying to figure out how to disentangle her hair from Zerith’s fist without tearing a bald spot in her scalp. “He does this whenever he gets stressed out,” Dar’ja hissed in a whisper as she tried to pry his fingers open. “Last time, I had to slip out of my nightgown just so I could get breakfast started. Don’t laugh, Alayne. I’ll bet Ger’alin has some odd habits that you’ll get to learn about,” she grinned.

“Rise and shine, sleepers!” Callie shouted at the top of her lungs, making Dar’ja jump and wince when she felt the tug at the base of her neck. Alayne giggled and stood up, prodding Ger’alin gently with her foot and nearly tripping when he grabbed her ankle. He let go and sat up quickly, apologizing and pushing himself to his feet. “Come on, everybody up!” the Forsaken continued loudly. “It’s mid-morning and it’s time to wake up!” Walking among the sleepers, the Forsaken who had stood guard gently prodded those not already up awake. Dar’ja began chewing her lip and shaking Zerith gently, hoping to wake him so he wouldn’t roll over and rip a plug out of her scalp.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled when he finally woke up, releasing her hair. “I’m under a little stress right now.”

98

“I know,” she muttered to him in an undertone, “you must really be worried because you were kicking last night, too.”

“I am,” he sighed, sitting up. “It looks like we might wind up fighting Lady Vashj.”

Dar’ja gasped and stared at him. “Denjai, the leader of the Horde forces in Zangarmarsh, told me last night that Vashj has been attacking the Horde bases and has killed almost every envoy they’ve sent to try to negotiate with her. She’s been sending forces against the Alliance as well. It seems that she doesn’t want anyone out here but the naga loyal to her.”

“What are we going to do? We can’t fight Lady Vashj! She’s one of our allies.”

“We may have to. I fear that she’s gone mad. At any rate, if we don’t help the Horde out; if we stand aside, it’s going to be a black mark against every sin’dorei. Thrall has accepted us, but he doesn’t really trust us. I could kill the Lady for putting us in this damnable position but we’re trapped between a rock and a hard spot. If we stand aside, we may lose our allies in the Horde. Prince Kael’thas would not be happy about that. Ger’alin and I decided last night that we’re going to fight. Any sin’dorei who feels that he or she can’t is welcome to stay out of the battle. Vashj has made her choice already; she’s going to fight us whether we want to fight her or not. We may as well take the battle to her and be done with it,” he said firmly. “Will you be coming, or will you stand aside? I promise not to be upset with you either way, my dearest.”

“I’ve followed you this far,” Dar’ja sighed. “I’ll fight.”

“Good,” he smiled. “It would be odd not to have you at my side. Oh no,” he groaned, hearing his sister’s high-pitched squeal and looking over to see her collapsing, nearly falling to the ground before Ger’alin could catch her. “Looks like Alayne’s not taking the news well at all.”

“She’ll be fine,” Dar’ja laughed, grabbing hold of the hem of Zerith’s robe when he stood up. “Let Ger’alin handle it. She is his woman, after all,” the sin’dorei grinned wolfishly as she watched the other Blood Knight try to figure out what to do with the unconscious woman in his arms. ~*~*~*~ “And what about after this is all over?” Alayne asked as they regrouped on the shore of the lake. “Do you honestly think we will be able to explain to Lord Lor’themar why we attacked and killed our naga allies?”

“Well, it’s not as if the Lady is giving us much of a choice,” Zerith said slowly. “Did Ger’alin not explain this to you?”

“He did but it’s still insane!”

“Then you can stay here while we fight,” Zerith muttered. “I’m not forcing anyone into this who doesn’t want to go.”

“I’ll go. I just…I don’t want to see us exiled or executed. I definitely don’t want to see us leading any kind of rebellion,” she said quickly.

“Rebellion? Alayne, are you feeling well?” he asked in concern, putting a hand on her forehead and looking to see if the madness was returning.

“It’s just something I saw happening while I was in Northrend…or maybe it was after that. I don’t remember when, but I had a dream that there was a civil war in Quel’Thalas and that we had turned against our Prince.”

“Arthas is a liar, Alayne. You know that. He had you thinking that we were draining your soul from you. He lied to you, tricked you, trapped you, and then brainwashed you into following him. Don’t ever think anything he said or showed to you is real. If you do that, you could fall back under his control.”

“I know,” she sighed. “It’s just that…I keep getting this odd sense of déjà vu. As if I’ve lived through this before.”

99

“Ignore it,” he suggested. “Everyone gets those weird feelings once in a while. They don’t mean anything. Now, come on. If you’re going to join the battle, you need to get in the boat with Dar’ja and Callie. There we go,” he said, helping her in. “Look after my wife, please,” he whispered in his sister’s ear. “She hates boats.”

“It’s not the boat, it’s the rocking,” Dar’ja moaned, leaning over the side and emptying her stomach. “Really, I could have swum out there. It’s not so far.”

“Sea-sick?” Alayne said, her voice sounding sympathetic but her face looking amused. “Well, whatever you do, don’t think about food. Especially not green food like pea soup. Or the way it sloshes around in the bowl. Oh, and definitely do not think about rocking.

Rocking back and forth, back and forth,” she grinned, making the boat sway slightly.

“I’m going to kill you,” Dar’ja groaned. “What did I ever do to you?”

“The zeppelin ride after your wedding. Payback is tough, isn’t it? I think I’ll make nice, slimy boiled spinach for the celebration feast…” her voice trailed off as the boat moved away from the shore. Zerith shook his head and tried not to laugh. He didn’t like seeing his wife so sick but Alayne did deserve to get some payback for recent events. Walking over, he climbed into the boat waiting for him. Ger’alin and Tau’re picked up their oars and shoved off.

“So, Dar’ja doesn’t like boats,” Ger’alin muttered. “That’s useful information for the next time she makes me mad.”

“Leave my wife alone,” Zerith said wryly. “Alayne is allowed to get a little bit of revenge but you aren’t.”

“So, I’ll just wait until Alayne and I are married and then, if Dar’ja makes me mad, I’ll tell Alayne to get her back for me. We’ll be married; she’ll have to do it, then. Why are you laughing, Zerith? I’m not entirely joking. Dar’ja can be nice but she can be a real pain, too.”

“No, it’s not that,” Zerith gasped. “It’s you thinking you’re going to tell Alayne to do anything. It doesn’t work that way. Trust me. No man tells his wife to do anything. It’s never done anything other than get the man sleeping on the couch since the beginning of time. I doubt even the Titans can tell their wives to do anything.”

“I see,” Ger’alin said slowly. “Can I arrange to have a long discussion with you about this at a later date?”

“Certainly,” Zerith nodded, seeing the chance to really wreak a little havoc. Grinning inwardly, he began planning out the plausible – and very humorous when acted upon – advice he would give the other man on how to deal with a wife. ~*~*~*~ Alayne shivered as they watched the last of the slaves go free. The Cenarion druids had accompanied them into the drainage area called Coilfang Reservoir. Once inside, several druid spies emerged from the shadows and spoke of the Broken who were being imprisoned and enslaved in the Slave Pens and the Steam Vaults. Splitting up, the Disorder of Azeroth had fought to free them and to deny the reservoir the manpower it needed to keep functioning and drawing precious water away from Zangarmarsh and to parts unknown.

The Broken were pitiful beings who possessed an oddly dignified demeanor. Even grinding slavery, torment, and death had not sapped their spirits. They had worked at the pumps because their naga slave drivers held them there with whips and chains and threats against those still uncaptured. But, they had done what they could to sabotage the workings of the vast machine and to slow its mysterious production down. Now that the Slave Pens and Steam Vaults were empty, the druids had contacted the Alliance forces to learn more about the purpose and function of the strange device. There was just one last area left to clear out.

100

Serpentshrine Cavern was a large, cavernous place that smelled of oil, old water, and decaying moss. Protected by naga loyal to Lady Vashj, the battles through the cavern had been tense affairs. More than once Alayne had to remind herself that her prince would never ally with those who kept slaves. After all, the sin’dorei had once come close to being slaves themselves under Garithos. Strange that Vashj would have forgotten that and chosen to enslave a race of beings who wanted little to do with the rest of Outland.

Shaking her head to clear it of errant thoughts, Alayne nodded when Ger’alin put a comforting hand on her shoulder. They were standing before the final room of the cavern.

Inside it lay the controls that kept the reservoir operational. Inside it also waited Lady Vashj herself. She seemed unconcerned that her attackers had made it so far into her sanctum.

Indeed, her bell-like laughter echoed throughout the vaulting cavern, twisting and thinning into an eerie howl. Ger’alin walked down the line of the Disorder of Azeroth and spoke a few words to everyone. When they were ready, he nodded and strode quickly into the room.

Vashj waited for them atop the central platform in the room. Surrounding it were gates that let water in or out of the area. Surrounding the platform were four towers.

Electricity sparked and jumped between them. Swarming up the stairs, the Disorder of Azeroth quickly spread themselves out around the edge of the platform, watching the water at the base for signs that Vashj had thrown open the floodgates.

“Water is life. It has become a rare commodity here in Outland. A commodity that we alone shall control. We are the Highborne, and the time has come at last for us to retake our rightful place in the world! Death to the outsiders!” she shouted as she nocked an arrow to her bow and began firing at those closest to her.

“Surround her!” Ger’alin shouted. “Attack from all sides!”

“I did not wish to lower myself by engaging your kind, but you leave me little choice!” she growled at the paladin as she rushed towards him. Ger’alin met her near the center of the platform, swinging his shield wildly to drive her back while he cut in with his sword. Vashj skittered away, slithering quickly on her serpentine tail and began casting her spells. Ger’alin used his shield to absorb them as he made his way back towards her, forcing her to constantly retreat. Meanwhile, from the edge of the platform, all manner of spells flew through the air. Alayne’s shadowbolts, their power enhanced by her anger and her fear, struck Vashj’s scaly body and exploded, weakening her with each attack.

As she grew weaker, Vashj snarled angrily. Reaching out with her four arms, she moved to the center of the platform and shouted words in a tongue that none recognized.

“The time is now! Leave none standing!” she said, pointing at those gathered around the edges.

Giant marshwalkers began surfacing from the waters at the edge of the room. Water elementals joined them, swarming up the stairs and nearly overwhelming the attackers.

Meanwhile, Vashj channeled the energy in the towers, folding it into a shield she wrapped around herself. Ger’alin grunted when his sword bounced off the shield. The reverberations made his arm ache. Gritting his teeth, he looked around for the source of the shield. Spotting the arcing lines dancing from the tips of the towers, he launched himself at them. The other fighters of the Disorder of Azeroth joined him, pausing only to kill marshwalkers who drew too close or elementals who interfered with the attacks on the towers. The towers were not constructed with defense in mind and soon toppled into rubble. With each fallen tower, the shield around Vashj shimmered, growing thinner. When the last one fell, she hissed angrily.

“You may want to take cover,” she growled as maddened sporebats began raining down on the attackers. Zerith called upon the Light, using his faith as a shield for his friends while they concentrated on finishing off Lady Vashj. The naga woman was shocked when her attacks failed. Across the platform, Alayne was channeling her own spells. Mixing shadow magic with necromancy, she hurled curses that carried contagion at the naga, sapping her life 101

away little by little. Hurling her strongest spells and calling upon more and more sporebats, Vashj tried to drive off any who drew near to her. Alayne redoubled her attacks. Sweat poured down her face and her legs trembled beneath her. Finally, she could cast no more.

Collapsing in a heap, she let weariness wash over her as the rest of the Disorder of Azeroth swarmed the serpentine woman. Ger’alin was among the first to reach her. Slashing her across the chest with his blade, he cleaved, sending scales and flesh out in a spray that gushed with each of the naga’s heartbeats. Vashj stared down at the wound in amazement. She lifted trembling hands to it and stared at her own blood staining them. Gaping, she looked up at Ger’alin just as one of Tau’re’s axes buried itself in her skull.

“Lord Illidan, I... I am... sorry,” she moaned as she twisted and fell. Ger’alin waited a beat before crouching down beside her. Reaching out with the powers he had come to know, he sought for signs of life. Finding none, he wiped his blade clean, sheathed it, and sighed.

“She’s dead,” he announced. “And the threat to Zangarmarsh is over.” Seeing that Alayne was laying in a heap, Ger’alin set aside all thoughts of anything else and rushed over to her. Gathering her in his arms, he sighed in relief when he saw that she had just fainted.

“She’s just passed out,” he mouthed to Zerith when the priest came rushing over. “I wish I knew why, though.”

“So do I,” Zerith muttered as he examined his sister. “So do I.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral knuckled his back and sighed with relief after the fight was over. It had seemed to go on for an eternity. Bending down, he pulled Vashj’s disbelieving eyes closed.

Ger’alin was right; the snake must have been mad to think that she could take on an entire army by herself. “You may have been a legend,” he whispered, sounding amused, “but now, you’re just a memory. Hm? What’s this?” he wondered, digging through the pouches the woman wore belted around her many-armed torso. “It’s just water,” he sighed, finding a vial filled with pure, clear liquid. “It feels…one of the Magisters back in Silvermoon will have to look into this,” he muttered, pocketing the vial. “What else do you have in these pockets of yours, I wonder?”

“Zerith says that Alayne will be fine,” Callie reported. Jez’ral nodded absently, pulling parchments from the dead woman’s pouches and glancing over them quickly.

Nothing in the documents made sense to him. There was something about some spy among the Broken, a bit about water shipments to the Netherstorm, and an odd mention to Kael’thas about Illidan not being pleased with certain rumors he had heard. “He wants to know what she did.” Callie repeated for the fourth time, pulling the man from his thoughts.

“I have no clue what she did. Something she learned in Northrend, I think,” Jez’ral replied with half a mind. “Ask her.”

“He said she’d be fine,” Callie said dryly. “He didn’t say she was awake yet. Frankly, I don’t think he’s going to get her away from Ger’alin any time soon. What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the vial of water Jez’ral was holding.

“Just some water.”

“Then why are you staring at it like that?”

“It feels…there’s something about this…I can’t quite place my finger on it,” he mumbled. “It’s as if I should know but I don’t.”

“Well, put it away for now and let’s get out of here,” the Forsaken muttered. Jez’ral pocketed the vial again, wondering why it seemed familiar and yet, completely foreign to him, at the same time. He blinked in surprise when he saw Alayne’s head lolling against Ger’alin’s chest.

“I thought you said she was fine,” he said in an irritated undertone to the Forsaken.

102

“Were you listening to only every other word?” Callie replied in like tone.

“What did she do?”

“Question answered,” the rogue snarled, striding ahead to join the others who were making their way out of the cavern. Jez’ral shook his head and walked over to Ger’alin. The Blood Knight clutched Alayne protectively to his chest, glaring at the warlock who approached them.

“What did she do?” the two men said at the same time, Ger’alin demanding where Jez’ral wondered.

“I was hoping you would know,” Zerith said wryly, making both men start in fright.

“I’m not doing that ever again,” Alayne answered thickly, her tongue sounding as if it were swollen. “He doesn’t know,” she continued, waving an arm towards Jez’ral.

“Northrend.”

“Was it similar to what you did to those naga when they surround Ger’alin a few days ago?” Alayne nodded. “Why did you faint?” Zerith asked.

“Because it’s really tiring to do that, especially when the target was as powerful as Vashj,” she sighed. “I’m also not very good at it. One small slip and my spells drain my own energy away completely.”

“I see,” Zerith sighed. “Well, at least you’ll sleep well tonight. And you had better just sleep,” he growled, glaring at Ger’alin. “Come on. The druids say that the repairs to the Refuge are almost complete. Yes, Ger’alin, they re-grew them; you weren’t seeing things,” Zerith said, sounding just as amazed as the other man had been.

“I’ve got to see that,” Alayne said, turning her head. “Let’s go.” She chewed her bottom lip worriedly as Ger’alin carried her back towards the entrance of the cavern. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen…something she should be able to foresee. ~*~*~*~ Back at the newly re-grown inn at Cenarion Refuge, Ger’alin woke up when he felt Alayne trembling next to him. “Alayne, are you alright?” he asked, realizing that he was trembling too. The whole room seemed to be. Alayne turned around and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest as the room continued to be rocked by a small, but long-lasting, earthquake. Ger’alin winced and felt tears spring to his eyes as she continued to cling to him. “Nails,” he whispered, whimpering as she held on in terror, “you’ve got to trim your fingernails. Oh, Light, what was that?” he groaned, feeling a wave of raw, searing energy pass over him. The scent and feel of it, crackling and electrifying, made his head spin while turning his stomach at the same time.

Through it all, Alayne held on to him as if her life depended on it. For long moments after the wave passed, the earth continued to shake before finally settling back down into stillness. “There, there,” he said, running a hand through Alayne’s hair. “It’s over now, whatever it was. There’s no need to be frightened, now. I’m here; I’m not about to let anything happen to you,” he whispered comfortingly, soothingly. He could feel his ribs creaking as she tightened her grip. He could feel a warm wetness on his chest. Reaching down, he gently, but firmly, pulled her up so that he could peer into her face. “What’s the matter?” he asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“War,” she shuddered. “There’s going to be a war!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…he…Arthas said this would happen!” she sobbed. “When I was in Northrend, whenever I would start to come back to myself, he would be there, showing me things that would happen if I deserted him. One of those things was a night, just like this. An earthquake 103

that wouldn’t stop; a wave of raw energy that threatened to sweep me away…and then a war and all of you were dead and it was my fault! All of you, dead, blood dripping down the streets of Silvermoon, its spires broken and crumbling! All because I…” Ger’alin silenced her by the simple expedient of kissing her. Whenever she seemed to try to launch into her bout of self-blame and fear again, he would cut her off. After a while, her trembling stilled and her sobs subsided. Once he was certain she was calm, he set her gently back down on her side of the bed and turned to look at her. “Arthas is a liar,” he whispered. “You’ve told me what he said to convince you that none of us cared for you; that we had been using you. Surely you’ve learned I would never do anything like that.”

“I know but…”

“But nothing,” he sighed. “Now, explain to me how your leaving him, turning your back on the road you had taken, would somehow lead to Silvermoon being destroyed and all of us being killed.”

“I don’t…”

“It wouldn’t,” he continued, reaching over to stroke her cheek. “While you are the most important person in my life, Alayne, you are hardly the linchpin upon which sin’dorei civilization hangs. None of us could single-handedly cause that kind of destruction.

Especially not you. You only wreak that kind of havoc when it’s truly called for. Of course, you do have a tendency to overdo it but that’s why I’ll always be there; to pin you to the ground and kiss you within an inch of your life if need be,” he teased. She smiled and reached over to pat him on his cheek.

“Have I told you lately that you’re very wise?” she sighed. “You’re right. One person couldn’t cause all that devastation. Not even me when I get really angry.”

“What concerns me is that you would even let him make you begin to think that,” Ger’alin sighed. Alayne turned on her back and placed a hand on her forehead, pulling her hair out of her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“He’s…insidious,” she said after a long pause. “He can worm his way into your thoughts, your hopes, your greatest fears and turn them against you. There’s nothing human left in him other than the fact that he can recall caring enough about those things to see them as weapons to be used. Effective weapons, too. Light, he used my own father against me.

I…oh, Light, my father!” she sighed bitterly, tears streaming down her face again. Ger’alin reached over and lifted her again, letting her cry herself out on his shoulder while he fought to breathe around the lump in his throat.

“Using someone’s own heart against them. If it wouldn’t be complete folly, I’d go give him the death he claims mastery over right now,” he thought to himself. “Not even demons are as vile as that rotten bastard.” Rocking her until she fell asleep in his arms, and then holding her still, he felt the giddy light-headed rush of emotion when she started whispering incoherently. Settling her back down, he smiled and tried to puzzle out what she might be dreaming about. He froze, his eyes shooting towards the door, when he heard it begin to creak open. Zerith and Callie ducked their heads in, grinning at him when he rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘wake her and I’ll chop you into little pieces.’

“Are you alright?” Zerith whispered, tiptoeing into the room. “That earthquake has just about everyone spooked, especially after those late-night attacks.”

“Oh, I’m fine. She was terrified but she’s calmed down and fallen back to sleep,” Ger’alin replied, keeping a careful eye on Alayne to make certain she was still asleep.

“What had her so upset?” Zerith asked, seeing his sister’s face red, her eyes swollen as if she’d been weeping.

“Long story summed up in four words,” Ger’alin growled softly. “Arthas is a bastard.

Apparently, he sent her visions of an earthquake followed by the collapse of all of elvendom, convincing her it would be her fault for leaving him.”

104

“He’s good at that,” Callie muttered, glancing down at Alayne. “He gets inside your mind, makes you believe things you never would otherwise. He can play a person the way a bard plays a lute.”

“You don’t think he’s trying to get her back?” Zerith asked. “She’s been complaining about having a sense of déjà vu since this morning.”

“No,” Ger’alin whispered firmly. “It was something he used to hold her in Northrend.

Using her own love for us as a knife against her throat. How could anyone, even him, be so heartless as to do that to such a beautiful, kind, warm, and loving woman?”

“We’ll just let you get back to sleep,” Zerith said quickly, wrapping an arm around Callie and clapping his hand over her mouth before she could say anything. Ger’alin nodded absently, staring at Alayne’s face with a look Zerith recognized. It was the same way he looked at Dar’ja when he knew she wouldn’t see and ask him what he was staring at.

“Beautiful? Her face was all red, blotchy, and swollen,” Callie laughed when Zerith dragged her out into the hallway and let her go. The priest shook his head at the Forsaken as he walked back to his own room. “He’s got it baaaaaaaaaaad,” she cackled.

“No,” Zerith smiled as he opened the door and saw his own wife sleeping peacefully.

“He’s got it good.” ~*~*~*~ “You two are up earlier than I expected,” Jez’ral said, sounding surprised when he saw Alayne and Ger’alin sitting down, eating breakfast together the next morning. Most of the others still slept, worn out from battle or the celebration the druids had held in honor of Vashj’s demise.

“Callie said we’d be leaving this morning and so, we’re ready,” Alayne answered.

“Besides, I’ll be glad to get this over with. I have plans for when we get finished,” she said, winking at Ger’alin. “And the sooner we can get on to those, the better.”

“What do you two need to do in Nagrand, anyway?” Ger’alin asked, grinning back at her.

“Demon research. It’s driving me up the wall not knowing who tainted the Outland orcs,” Jez’ral sighed. “On top of that, Nagrand is the only area that has flourished, despite the destruction of Draenor. I want to know why. I also want to test the waters there. Something I found on Vashj,” he said, holding up the vial of clear water-that-wasn’t-water.

“So do I,” Alayne muttered, staring at the vial and shrugging. Something about it seemed familiar. “Hellfire Peninsula was a barren, rocky wasteland. Zangarmarsh is…just plain odd. Nagrand is bound to be better. Still…maybe we should head south into Terokkar.

That earthquake last night…”

“Yes,” Jez’ral whispered, pocketing the vial again. “I would like to learn more about whatever caused that. Wild torrents of arcane energy are always worth exploring.”

“So, a little detour before we head on?” Alayne asked. Jez’ral nodded.

“What detour?” Dar’ja asked, sitting down across from Ger’alin and Alayne.

“Congratulations on your amazing self-control, you two. You cost me ten gold,” she said warmly. Zerith settled in next to her, laughing, and Callie plunked down next to Jez’ral. “If you two need any…practical advice, you know Zerith and I…” “Thank you,” they both said at the same time, blushing in unison.

“So, what detour?”

“We’ll be heading south into Terokkar Forest today instead of southwest into Nagrand. Alayne and I are both curious about that burst of energy that washed over us last night.”

105

“The earthquake, you mean? I wondered what that was about myself. As did everyone else,” Zerith said.

“Then let’s eat and round up the others,” Jez’ral said dryly. “Send the rest of your private army on to the ruins of Shattrath. Tell them we’ll send word if we need them.”

106

Chapter Fourteen: Division and Unification

T

he six broke away from the larger gathering as they turned their mounts east.

The Disorder of Azeroth continued on to the rebuilt city of Shattrath, Davril and Tau’re promising to keep the rest of the band out of trouble. The tauren clapped Ger’alin on the back in farewell, before shouting for the rest of the group to follow after him. Ger’alin and Alayne smiled at each other, riding so close their knees touched.

Jez’ral cleared his throat. Alayne blushed and Ger’alin chuckled. Behind them, Zerith and Dar’ja grinned at each other, recalling the early days of their marriage. Riding down the hill, the golden peaks and walls of Shattrath vanishing behind them, Alayne tried to clear her mind and focus on the task at hand.

The dark forest, sprinkled liberally with shards of crystal from the strange crystallinebearing trees looming overhead, gave way to a clearing. A druidic archway stood over the path branching off the main road and a tauren druid sat nearby, pacing and sniffing the air.

He brightened when he saw the six travelers draw rein and dismount. “Greetings, travelers. I am Earthbinder Tavgren. Have the druids from Cenarion Refuge sent you? The druids of the thicket here,” he said, gesturing to the broken buildings atop the hill before him, “have been slain! Only myself and one other have survived, and he's insane. I don't know what happened, but I intend to get to the bottom of it. Whatever it was, it happened quickly and feels unnatural. Will you help me?”

“We will be glad to be of whatever assistance we may,” Jez’ral answered smoothly.

“We have come from Cenarion Refuge but were not sent by the druids, though. Last night, in the late hours of the evening, we felt a disturbance and a small earthquake. Do you know if what happened here would be linked with that?”

“What could have killed all the people in the thicket?” Alayne asked, staring up and mentally calculating how many people the buildings could have held.

“I have no idea what killed all of the druids here. I've been away for a couple of days on a survey of the Bone Wastes to the south. Please, you must help me to uncover what's behind this horrible tragedy. Go into the thicket and look for a clue that might reveal something to us. When I was in there briefly, I could have sworn I saw a dead Broken and a strange object next to him. And don't worry about Treelos - he might have been driven insane by what happened, but I think he's mostly harmless.”

“Zerith, Dar’ja, why don’t you and Callie wait here?” Ger’alin asked, feeling uneasy about the glimmers of energy that even he could feel in the air. “In case something happens.

I’ll look after them,” he added. The three nodded and took up position around the druid, watching. Alayne and Jez’ral were already climbing the path into the thicket, looking around and shivering as they tried to ignore the tingles crawling up their spines.

“Some powerful arcane force was at work here,” Jez’ral whispered, his mouth feeling dry as cotton.

“Alayne, are you all right?” Ger’alin asked as he jogged up to the pair. She trembled like a tightly drawn bowstring.

“I’ll be fine,” she said tightly, trying to ignore the currents swirling around her. “Ugh, it gets worse the deeper into the thicket we go,” she said, her breath coming in short gasps.

107

Sweat beaded on her forehead and her eyes were glazed. Jez’ral’s face grew pinker and pinker as he moved closer to the inn. Even Ger’alin began to feel the effects of the arcane energy that had been loosed in the thicket, his head swimming. He shook his head to clear it.

He felt as if he had been drinking double-distilled brandy.

“There, that must be what the druid was talking about,” Jez’ral groaned, leaning against the entryway to the inn, his legs wobbling on the verge of dropping him on the ground. “Could one of you…,” he said, falling to his knees and shivering. “It’s highly unstable.”

Alayne staggered drunkenly into the inn, Ger’alin following after her, sweat pouring down his face. Next to the body of a devolved draenei lay a broken orb, banded with gold graven with sin’dorei markings. Alayne stared at it. Using her dagger, she tried to roll it out of the inn, shuddering as waves of arcane energy poured out from it whenever she disturbed it. “I’ve never seen…,” she gasped, “anything like it.” Jez’ral crawled closer, studying it as well.

“Who would…this is…I can’t believe…,” he said as he crawled backwards out of the inn, a horrified expression on his face. Ger’alin stared at the man, wondering what could make him blanch like that. Alayne reached out, placing a hand on Ger’alin’s chest to steady herself as she lurched and wobbled out of the inn, Ger’alin following her closely, his hands hovering near her to catch her if she tripped. He maintained a steady tread by effort of will, reaching down to pull Jez’ral to his feet. The three began to walk back towards the road, stopping when a cougar walked in front of them, staggering and swaying as drunkenly as they were.

“Poor thing,” Alayne said softly, her voice filled with pity as she knelt down to try to pet the animal. She jerked back, landing on her seat when the creature shifted into a night elven man. Ger’alin stared at the man in horror; his face was drawn, his smile too bright, and his eyes…his eyes shone as Alayne’s had when she was at her most ill.

“Quick, hide! The eyes of Naphthal'ar are upon you... upon us all!” the night elf said, panic-stricken. His demeanor suddenly changed when the other three began looking around uncomfortably. “I dare not go to the top of the tower to speak with it, but you... you look as if you might know the right words to say. Just be careful, it doesn't like jokes and will not suffer fools easily. If you can, convince it to come down for tea. But, by all means, get it to stop staring at me!” he pleaded, giggling and moaning by turns.

“He’s mad,” Jez’ral said, shocked. Alayne nodded in agreement and let Ger’alin help her back to her feet. All three kept cautious eyes on the insane druid as they backed slowly out of the thicket, running to the road when the druid shifted forms again and began wandering the ruins, growling to himself.

“Are you three all right?” Zerith asked, looking confused when the trio ran pell-mell down the hill, staggering to a halt in front of the others.

“Did I…look and act like that?” Alayne asked Ger’alin.

“Somewhat,” he replied. Zerith looked confused, wondering what they were talking about. Alayne just looked up at Ger’alin, her eyes filled with pity, and rubbed his cheek with her hand. The man smiled at her, his eyes filled with tenderness and love. Zerith looked away, giving them some privacy. He’d never seen an expression like that on the fighter’s face.

“We found it,” Jez’ral cut in, turning to Tavgren. “Next to the body of a devolved draenei, one of those Broken was – Light, who would have made such a thing! – a mana bomb.” Alayne opened her mouth in shock but a gesture from Jez’ral cut her off. Ger’alin and the others looked confused but kept quiet.

“Is it was caused all of this death?” Tavgren asked gravely.

108

“Yes. And it’s the cause of what we felt in Zangarmarsh last night. Tell me, are there any sin’dorei settlements near here?”

“Yes. Your people have built a settlement down beyond Tuurem. Follow the road west. You should see the spires before you would enter ShadowmoonValley. They call it Firewing Point. Be careful when passing through Tuurem. The Broken have made it their home. They are fairly peaceful but if they think you are a threat…”

“Thank you, Earthbinder,” Jez’ral said, climbing aboard his fel steed. “I would advise you to warn others away from this area. If I can, I will arrange for those skilled in dealing with such contamination to come and help clear away what they can. Until such a time as the unstable arcane energies can be dispersed, I would strongly suggest that you keep this area under strict quarantine.”

“Are we in any danger?” Ger’alin asked after they had ridden away a pace.

“No,” Alayne answered, patting his knee. “We would be if we tried to stay there very long, though. So much energy in the air…it can overwhelm if you’re not careful.”

“Enough, you two,” Jez’ral said firmly but not unkindly. “Let’s head on over to this ‘Firewing Point.’” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin’s eyes bulged as they rode into the sin’dorei settlement. Blood Knights, mages, and warlocks hurried about, their activities focused on a large crystalline orb in the central courtyard. It looked like a larger version of the orb he’d seen in the druid’s inn. “What are they doing?” he whispered to Alayne. She shook her head, looking as if she had just seen death coming for her. Several sin’dorei sat around the orb, gazing at it intently. Jez’ral looked as if he might throw up.

“Welcome to Firewing Point. Are you loyal to Kael’thas?” one of the Blood Knights demanded, staring at the travelers as if they smelled bad.

“We are,” Jez’ral said breathlessly, staring at the orb in horror.

“You admire our work?” the Knight said coldly.

“Indeed. It is very…large,” Jez’ral continued in that same, airless tone. “May we inquire as to who has ordered such a thing built?”

“You may,” the Blood Knight said, offering no further information. Jez’ral stared at him; the man returned his gaze evenly, coldly.

“What are you…?” Ger’alin demanded as he saw other Blood Knights move around, surrounding them.

“You may ask,” the first Knight said as if to continue his reply, “we are wary of spies.Has Voren’thal sent you? No doubt he and his fellow traitors are the ones who attacked Lady Vashj and disrupted our supply-lines! Where have you come from? And where are your orders to report here?”

“Wait, we’re not spies. We’re travelers who have come to Outland to…” Zerith tried to cut in, edging back as their would-be captors drew swords. Ger’alin glanced around in desperation, his fingers twitching as he fought against drawing his own sword. Dar’ja looked aghast and Callie confused. Jez’ral was preparing to cast a spell, knowing it would be his last.

Alayne just looked stunned, as if she had seen this all before.

“Arthas…,” she whispered. Her face darkened and her eyes blazed in anger as she glared at the sin’dorei surrounding them. Some of the Blood Knights took a step backwards, seeing her gaze fall on them and flinching. Shoving to the front of the others, Alayne kept a firm hand on Ger’alin and Zerith. Jez’ral, seeing the set of her shoulders, reached out and grabbed Callie and Dar’ja, mentally preparing himself for what was about to come. The sin’dorei surrounding them parted, running and gasping in sheer terror as Alayne seemed to 109

grow where she stood, the shadows around her darkening, thickening, and a sense of impending doom wafting from her. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she glanced back at the others and nodded, heeling her fel steed to a gallop and leading them out of the settlement, west, towards Shattrath. ~*~*~*~ “Yes, it’s a mana bomb,” Khadgar sighed. “They launched one against the Cenarion druids last night. Chances are they are targeting either Allerian Stronghold or Stonebreaker Hold. Maybe both. I’ll have runners sent to both locations to warn them. If only we could get in there and deactivate that misbegotten horror…”

“Why don’t you? We could do it easily ourselves if you lack the resources,” Ger’alin said insistently.

“Do you want to die young, sin’dorei?” Khadgar asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I doubt even A’dal could save you from that were you fool enough to try it. Kael’s elves would cut you to ribbons. Besides, you’d need the code and I doubt it’s up just for the asking. Chances are only that blasted Pathaleon or one of his lackeys has it. Put it out of your mind,” the mage sighed.“Be welcome to our city. You lead the second army to come here and not attack,” the wizened human laughed. “Your Disorder of Azeroth. They arrived earlier. Most of them are on Scryer’s Tier. The rest are down in LowerCity.”

“What are you talking about?” Zerith asked. The other four stood silent, wincing, still not quite over meeting and talking to Khadgar, Medivh’s apprentice, in person. Jez’ral had fainted when the human met them on the bridge to the city and introduced himself. Only having Callie and Dar’ja close by had kept the sin’dorei warlock from cracking his head open on the stone ground. Even then, he’d nearly pulled the women out of their saddles.

“It is not my story to tell,” Khadgar replied, shaking his head.“Go up to Scryer’s Tier.

I imagine that Voren’thal will want to speak with you. You’ll find it by taking the elevator up to the tier with the sin’dorei architecture. For now, I have work to be about with A’dal,” Khadgar said as he turned and left. Ger’alin clenched his fists, frustrated. Alayne put a gentle hand on his back, calming him as she stared ahead, the look on her face saying that she’d seen this all before, somewhere. He put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her for a brief second as if to say “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” before releasing her and, taking her hand, walked down the bridge into the city.

The city of Shattrath rose up out of the valley in the mountains between Nagrand and Terokkar, its golden walls high and sturdy. Draenei soldiers, natives to the planet who had survived its destruction intact, walked about, groups of them practicing formation and drilling. Ger’alin watched with half a mind, noting differences in their preferred tactics and those he had been taught. The group walked into the central structure of the city, a glimmering building, its vaunting, golden walls rising to a spire topped with blue crystalline pylons. A beam of light shone from it, a beacon for those who sought sanctuary. As they entered the building, Ger’alin felt more than heard crystalline chimes in his mind. Glancing away from where he’d been watching the draenei soldiers drilled, his jaw dropped and he stopped in his tracks, nearly tripping Alayne and causing Zerith, who had been walking just behind him, to run right into his back. Dar’ja had stopped as well, her face horror-stricken as she gazed at the sight that had brought Ger’alin to a halt.

Floating in the middle of the open room was a shining white being. It looked as if it were made of pure crystal, parts of its body rotating and dancing as it bobbed in the air, a bright aura exuding peace, tranquility, and acceptance of that which comes flowing from it.

Around the room other beings, in shades of blue and purple, floated about, the inhabitants of the city stopping to speak with them respectfully.

110

“What is that?” Zerith asked. Alayne shook her head. Dar’ja and Ger’alin fell to their knees as the being’s crystalline chimes bid them welcome. “Dar’ja?” he asked, kneeling beside his wife.

“I…I…oh Light forgive me!” she moaned, tears trickling down her face. “I didn’t know! They told us…they said it was a vortex, not a being!” Ger’alin forced himself to look away from the being, shame darkening his face as he thought about the creature’s twin being held prisoner by the Blood Knights in Silvermoon. Alayne and Zerith stared at each other in confusion, not knowing what had the two paladins so upset. Callie and Jez’ral were agog at the floating beings and the way that the different races mixed and mingled freely, no weapons being drawn.

“Do not be troubled, young mortals,” the being sang softly in the Blood Knights’ minds. “For a grander scheme than your prince’s is at work with M’uru. He gives you his powers in service of a greater good than even he realizes. You have no cause for fear or shame. We sent of our own to aid you; what your prince intended for evil will bring about a greater good. Therefore, be welcome to the City of Light.” Dar’ja’s sobs changed, the note of shame turning to one of gratitude. She flung her arms around Zerith, nearly pulling him to the ground as she wept in relief and thankfulness. Ger’alin just kept hold of Alayne’s hand, reaching over to pat it with his other as he released a deep breath and, wiping his eyes with his free arm, stood up.

“What’s wrong, Ger’alin?” Alayne asked softly. He shook his head and placed a gentle finger over her lips when she started to ask again.

“I’ll explain it later,” he whispered. “For now, let’s go see this Voren’thal. A’dal suggests that we speak with him before we make any other decisions.”

The six made their way through the building, climbing the ramp to the second level and taking the bridge that led up to the sin’dorei-dominated area called Scryer’s Tier. Alayne bit her lip and stroked Ger’alin’s back worriedly. Zerith carried Dar’ja in his arms; she was still too overcome to walk. Taking the elevator, Alayne closed her eyes, telling herself she’d be back on solid ground in a moment. She sighed with relief when the platform stopped and let Ger’alin led her off, keeping her hand in his. He turned around and chuckled when he saw her walking with her eyes closed. “We’re off the elevator, Alayne,” he whispered, smiling when she opened her eyes.

Scryer’s Tier spread out before them. Golden flames and red jewels topped spires and blue and crimson drapes hung everywhere, giving privacy without closing the doors to open buildings. Callie muttered that she was going to check the stables before hurrying off towards the inn. The other sin’dorei gazed at the five newcomers warily, as if uncertain what to make of them. Ger’alin and Zerith exchanged glances. Would all sin’dorei in Outland regard them as spies of some sort or another? Dar’ja shifted as if she wanted to be set back on her own feet but Zerith ignored her, tightening his grip a bit, preparing to bolt and carry her with him if need be. Finally, a Magister approached the five, bowing at the waist formally. “Voren’thal will speak with you, now,” the man said calmly, gesturing for them to follow after him. They did, Ger’alin glancing at Alayne over his shoulder and wondering why her face had suddenly become blank.

The Magister led them into one of many large buildings. The other blood elves in the building barely spared them a glance, absorbed in their reading. “In there,” the Magister said, opening the door to a side room. An elder sin’dorei sat on cushions at the far end of the room, his long white hair held back out of his face with a crown marking his station as one of the most powerful of the Magisters. He was the oldest blood elf any of them, other than Jez’ral, could remember seeing since their childhoods.

“Be seated,” the man said, his voice deep and filled with the calm assurance of obedience. “This will not be a short tale.” The others seated themselves on the dark blue and 111

blood red cushioned floor seats scattered about the room, their eyes focused on the man. “I am Voren’thal,” he began simply, “the leader of the Scryers. Tell me, young ones, have you run across the sin’dorei loyal to Kael’thas in your travels?”

“We have,” Zerith said. “They accused of us being your spies.”

The elder closed his eyes and nodded. “I expect as much. Kael will never forgive us for defecting, but it is the only way to save our people from the destruction he is leading them towards. Hold your questions, young warlock,” Voren’thal sighed, seeing Jez’ral preparing to interrupt. “Hear me out. I know, you all think Kael everything wonderful and wise; think him no less than a savior. Perhaps, in a way, he is, but now he cares nothing for the elves. All that matters to him is vengeance and he will kill all of us to have it. My story begins when Kael ordered me to lead forces against this city. Our mission was to take control of Shattrath and to capture the naaru – those floating beings like A’dal,” he explained. “They are beings of great power and wisdom. Kael wanted more of them to study. His true master wanted them destroyed. Let me finish!” he said wearily, seeing the questions in their eyes. “Kael first swore fealty to Illidan, the Betrayer. Illidan, after losing to Arthas at the foot of Icecrown glacier, returned to the BlackTemple in ShadowmoonValley where he has been brooding, driving himself mad, replaying that fight again and again in his mind, trying to convince himself he really won and that Kil’jaeden won’t tear him to shreds. Kael, seeing that his first master was insane, has changed masters accordingly. Forsaking Illidan, Kael has allied himself with the Burning Legion, lusting after a chance to kill Arthas and the rest of us be damned! Kael ordered me to take this city, but, the night before the battle, I had a vision. In this vision, I saw the fate that awaited us if we continued to follow Kael blindly. I was given to know that our people’s only true salvation lay in turning our backs on our prince and allying with the naaru. I told those who followed me of my vision and, the next day, we marched on Shattrath, laid down our weapons, and swore our service to A’dal. Now, the same choice lies before all of you: continue to serve a prince whose followers will never believe your loyalty, whose adherents mix with demons freely, summoning them and letting them roam at will; or join with the rest of us and serve A’dal and the naaru, fighting against the Legion.”

“What proof do you have of your claims?” Zerith demanded.

“Proof? If you want proof,” Voren’thal muttered, “go to the Netherstorm. There, where the Twisting Nether lies like a fog on the land, Kael has constructed great mana forges to harvest the energy. He once claimed to do this in hopes of finding a way to revitalize the Sunwell. Now, he plans to use the energy gathered to summon Kil’jaeden into Azeroth; to allow the Legion access to our world in return for the Lich King’s destruction.”

“We must speak of this amongst ourselves,” Zerith said firmly. “It is no light thing to turn your back on your prince. We’d never be able to return to our homes again.”

“I understand,” the elder said, giving them a gesture of dismissal. “Take all the time you need. However, remember this: unlike Kael’s followers, we will only attack you if you attack us first. We do not kill our own lightly. Kael’s elves do, as you no doubt have learned,” he said, sighing sadly. ~*~*~*~ “What do you make of him?” Zerith asked once they were outside. The five clustered around closely, speaking in low tones as they tried to reach a decision.

“Voren’thal would not lie,” Jez’ral muttered. “As impossible to believe as what he said is, he wouldn’t stoop to lying. Especially not to those who could band together and kill him without breaking a sweat. Looking around, I’ve seen no less than two dozen of the

112

strongest, smartest, and cleverest of the Magisters. Their defection must have really hurt Prince Sunstrider’s cause.”

“I don’t know what to think, myself,” Ger’alin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“First we’re accused of being spies and nearly killed by our own people. Then, we come here to find out that we’ve walk right into the middle of a civil war that no one in Silvermoon seems to know about.”

“Civil war,” Alayne said softly in an inaudible undertone, her gaze turned inward.

“How much did that bastard know? How did he know? Is this all part of his plot?” Ger’alin reached over and placed a comforting hand on Alayne’s back, eyeing her with concern.

“Maybe we should head to the Netherstorm, to see if he’s really telling the truth about sin’dorei mingling with demons freely,” Dar’ja suggested.

“Yes, maybe we should go see for ourselves,” Ger’alin agreed. “For now, we should figure out what to do about that mana bomb we saw. I can’t believe that Khadgar is taking this so calmly,” he said as they began to head back towards the inn.

“Well, he was right,” Jez’ral muttered. “None of us have the skill to disarm it. If we tried, we might set it off ourselves. That’s ignoring, of course, the fact that it’s pretty heavily guarded.”

“Still, I…,” “Ger’alin, what are you doing? Does your father know you’re playing with his sword?” a man shouted, laughing and running towards them to grab Ger’alin’s shoulders and get a good look at his face. “Light, I didn’t know if you’d made it out of Quel’Thalas,” he laughed. “When I heard that Forsaken over there mention your name, I nearly had a heart attack.”

“Havandar, you rascal! What are you doing here?” Ger’alin said, recognizing the man. “Getting everyone into trouble like you used to do me, I bet.”

“I always got you right back out of it, too,” he grinned. “What are you doing out here?

Are you with that small army that showed up earlier today?”

“He’s one of that ‘small army’s’ leaders,” Zerith said wryly. “I’m Zerith, by the way.”

“I’m sorry,” Ger’alin said ruefully. “Everyone, this is Havandar. Havandar, this is Zerith, Dar’ja, Jez’ral, and Alayne. This guy used to get me in the worst trouble.”

“I never made you do anything,” Havandar laughed. “Never had to; you were always up to something yourself. You know, you look very familiar,” he said, turning to Alayne.

“I remember you. You stayed with us for a few days after you fled Lordaeron,” Alayne grinned. “Mother said you were crazy to have stayed as long as you did looking for…oh, Light, was he the one you were looking for?” she asked, pointing to Ger’alin.

“Yes, but I never found him. Looks like he got out all right to me, though. Or did you find him, little miss ‘I’m going out to save the world?’ How did you get away from them, Ger’alin?” he asked, turning serious. “I saw what they did to your mother and…”

“I really don’t want to talk about that. No! Don’t tell me anything more!” the Blood Knight muttered. “Bad times, those.” Now it was Alayne’s turn to place a comforting hand on his back. He smiled at her as if to communicate, without words, his gratitude.

“Where did you wind up? I looked all over for you.”

“I was passed around a good bit by the humans until I finally wound up at the orphanage in Theramore. When I turned eighteen, I joined the guard force there until word came that Silvermoon was being rebuilt. What happened to you?”

“I wound up staying in Ironforge for a few years before joining up with the Argent Dawn. I returned to Silvermoon, briefly, and then joined Kael’s forces out here in Outland. I left when Voren’thal and the rest defected. I still can’t believe I ever went along with Kael’s mad plans!”

113

“Is it really true, then? That he and his followers consort freely with demons?” Jez’ral cut in.

“Oh, yes, it’s true. I almost left on my own when they started tainting the orcs again.

I stayed, much to my regret, because I was too afraid to desert on my own. Desertion means death, for Kael and the Sunfury. There are no second chances and if your opinions differ from theirs…well, they’ll kill you if they’re feeling merciful about it.”

“I see,” Jez’ral muttered. “Why don’t the two of you go and catch up? Alayne, stay here a bit. Don’t worry, Ger’alin, I’m not going to send her out after Kil’jaeden’s toenail.”

“Well, that answers your question,” Alayne sighed after Havandar and Ger’alin had moved off a bit. “Looks like our prince is behind the tainted orcs of Outland.”

“Yes, but to what purpose? Demon-tainted orcs aren’t easily controlled or trusted.

They’re as likely to turn on themselves as they are to attack the enemy you send them after.”

“Maybe he could tell us more,” Zerith sighed, glancing at the hunter with Ger’alin.

“But, it looks like we’re staying with the Scryers. Light, I just hope we don’t get pulled into a battle against our own people. Jez’ral, why don’t you come with me and Dar’ja? I want to talk to you about a way to get rid of that mana bomb without getting everyone killed. Alayne, you go keep Ger’alin out of trouble,” he teased. She paused for a second before nodding and smiling, walking over to the other two.

“Zerith,” she said, stopping and glancing over her shoulder. “Are you going to be busy this afternoon?”

“Probably not,” he said, wondering what she was asking for. She nodded to herself and then walked over to Ger’alin, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder while he put an arm around her. Havandar quirked his eyebrows at the pair and said something that made Ger’alin throw his head back and laugh. Zerith shook his head and walked into the inn with the others, wondering what Alayne wanted him this afternoon about.

“So, what’s going on?” Callie asked, springing up from the cushion she’d been sitting on.

“That’s a long story,” Dar’ja sighed. “Let’s get our rooms. We’ll tell you about it in a more private setting.” ~*~*~*~ “You’re sure about this?” Ger’alin asked when Alayne pulled him into the room they were to share at the inn. “I wasn’t joking about being perfectly willing to wait.”

“I’m sure,” she sighed. “Are you?”

“I told you,” he laughed. “I’ve been ready. You run and go tell your brother. I’ll go ask around about good places to slip away to. Jez’ral’s not going to need you for anything for a few days, is he?”

“I doubt it. He’ll probably be spending time with the Magisters around here, seeing what kind of research they’ve been up to and running his theories past them. He won’t miss me for a few days, I think. I wonder,” she said, tapping a finger against her cheek, “if he realizes that he’ll probably never get to see…”

“Get to see who?”

“Get to see someone he really cares about who is still back in Silvermoon, waiting for the pair of us to return. Light, we can’t ever go home, can we?”

“We’ll find a way to get word to her for him.”

“Him, you mean.”

“And thus much is explained,” Ger’alin laughed. “We’ll find a way to get word to whomever, then. I’ll be back shortly; just send Callie or Havandar after me if I take too long,” 114

he said, kissing her lightly and hurrying off. Alayne sat back down in the chair for a few minutes, her chin on her fist, thinking. She had figured out a way to disarm that bomb but she couldn’t risk letting anyone know about it. Zerith and Ger’alin would insist on following her and while she thought she could get herself out safely, she wasn’t certain at all that she’d be able to help them resist the currents that would be unleashed. She didn’t think she could bear to see either of them wandering, their minds gone as surely as that druid’s had been. No, it would be better if neither of them suspected until after she’d returned. At least now both would be so distracted by the wedding that neither would stop to think that she had other things on her mind as well.

“I hope he won’t suspect, at least,” she prayed, recalling how, ever since that first kiss in Zangarmarsh, Ger’alin had been able to track her thoughts so closely it seemed he was reading her mind. That she seemed to be able to tell what he was feeling and what he needed was only a slight redressing of the balance. “I wonder if it’s like this with everyone who falls in love?” she wondered aloud. With a sigh, she stood up and walked down to Zerith’s room to let him know he had a wedding to perform. ~*~*~*~ “Why are you two going off camping?” Callie asked when she saw Ger’alin and Alayne saddling Lucky and tying the tent down behind the saddle. Alayne’s fel steed stood nearby, looking forlorn as it was being used as a packhorse. “Zerith and Dar’ja didn’t have a problem with keeping everyone awake when they…”

“Because we’re not Zerith and Dar’ja,” Ger’alin said lightly, still feeling as if he were walking on clouds. “And no following us, Callie.”

“I wouldn’t,” the Forsaken protested. “I’ve got plans tonight myself.”

“Oh, what’s his name?” Alayne teased. Callie stuck her tongue out at the woman and laughed.

“Remember when you told Dar’ja about what Zerith said the day you two had your picnic? Well, she mentioned it to me and we both think you had a great idea. I promise, I’ll tell you what the expression on his face looked like when you come back.”

“I think I want to hear this one,” Ger’alin said, chuckling. “From the way my wife is laughing, it sounds fairly amusing.”

“I’ll tell you about it,” Alayne gasped, doubled over with laughter. “Try not to scare him too much.”

“But that’s the best fun!”

“Now I’m really glad we’re sleeping far away tonight,” Alayne giggled. “He’s going to kill me!”

“Just consider it payback for that whole making-you-search-the-naga-corpses-untilyou-were-half-frozen-so-he-could-put-you-in-bed-with-Gerry thing,” the Forsaken grinned.

“We still have to get you back for tricking me into climbing into her bed the first time,” Ger’alin chuckled.

“I’m looking forward to that one myself,” Callie said. “Make it a good one.”

“We will,” Ger’alin promised, climbing up into the saddle and pulling Alayne up in front of him. Callie grinned and looked away when she saw the way they gazed at each other and laughed when she heard Ger’alin heel Lucky to a gallop. The pair rode south, turning west once they reached the Bone Wastes, searching along the border for the area that Havandar had described. “There it is,” Ger’alin whispered. “Just north of the ogres.”

“It’s beautiful,” Alayne sighed. Beyond the shady forests of Terokkar, just past a gap in the mountains, lay Nagrand with its bright sun, emerald grass, and gentle breezes. “Seeing this, I can see why they said that Outland was a promised land.”

115

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiled as they rode through the pass and into Nagrand.

Moving off the path, he was careful to skirt around Kil’sorrow Fortress while looking for a congenial spot to make camp. Alayne leaned against his chest, closing her eyes and savoring the scent of spring on the breeze. After a few more minutes of riding, Ger’alin spotted a place and pulled Lucky to a halt. Alayne opened her eyes and smiled.

“This is perfect,” she said as the pair of them climbed down and began making camp.

“It is. Nice and out of the way, near water, plenty of game around, and no one to worry about disturbing,” he grinned. “You get the fire started; I’ll go see if I can bring back something for dinner.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne fidgeted nervously while she waited for Ger’alin to finish washing up from supper. While she had skinned and roasted the hares he’d brought back, he had set up the new tent he’d bought in Lower City. Large enough for him to stand in comfortably, it was much more spacious than his old one. She’d already unpacked their clothes and folded them neatly in one corner of the tent. A large bedroll and blankets lay on the other side of the tent. She’d even hung the mirror and set the wooden bowl on the tent pole’s platform so that Ger’alin could shave in the morning. She considered slipping her shoes back on and going to the lake to take a bath but just as she had talked herself into it, Ger’alin ducked into the tent.

“I’m glad I let you bring those spices,” he grinned. “When I rough it, I normally go for plain roast and whatever tubers I can find handy.”

“You’ll make yourself sick doing that,” she said quietly, trying to mask her nervousness. “Variety is part of what keeps you healthy.”

“No wonder my commanders were always harping on us in the field,” he laughed. “I thought they just wanted us to justify them bringing along the best chefs they could find.”

Ger’alin sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged his boots off. Glancing around for a place to set them, he noticed Alayne’s shoes sitting by the entrance flap. He lightly tossed his own boots in that direction. Alayne rolled her eyes and walked over to right them and set them neatly next to her own. Ger’alin watched her affectionately as he stretched out on the bed and tucked his hands behind his head. Alayne wandered around the tent, twisting her fingers and shooting worried looks at Ger’alin. For a moment, he grew concerned. Then, he grinned. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I...I was wondering something,” she said slowly.

“Then come over here and tell me about it,” he said, rolling on his side and patting the bed next to him.

“Would you answer a question I’ve been wondering about?”

“Of course,” he promised. “Anything.”

Alayne flopped down on her belly next to him. He raised his eyebrows and let her gather her thoughts. She rolled on her back and stared at the roof of the tent. It was much easier to think clearly when she couldn’t see him. “Anything?” she clarified.

“Anything,” he said calmly.

“I want to know the truth about you and Ta’sia and Stranglethorn Vale. Callie’s made enough muttered comments where she thought I couldn’t hear that I know something happened there. I’d like to know what.”

“Anything but that,” he said evenly.

“It can’t be that bad,” she protested.

“Trust me, it’s worse.”

“Still, I want to know.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

116

“Did you care for her?”

“Care for her?” he snorted.

“Then why did you…”

Ger’alin sighed and rolled on his back. Covering his face with his hands, he drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally, he reached over and pulled his wife into his arms and laid her over his chest so that he could gaze up into her face. “I can still remember the day the criers came out into the streets of Silvermoon reading off the names of those who had been killed and then incinerated to prevent the spread of the plague,” he sighed. “I can remember racing through the streets, shoving people out of my way without a single apology, forcing myself to run faster and faster. Had anyone been foolish enough to try to stop me, I’d have killed them. I can remember feeling as if my heart was going to burst in my chest. And still, I forced myself to run yet faster as if I could somehow run backwards through time and make it be untrue.”

“What does that…”

He raised a finger to her lips, silencing her. “When I burst through the doors of the sanitarium and they told me that you were dead,” he said bleakly, “it was as if the sun had been yanked out of the sky. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. I heard Zerith and the others come on but I couldn’t…,” he took a deep breath. “I couldn’t stay. Callie and I left. But, the world was still without a sun for me. It was like when the Sunwell vanished only this time, instead of a dark cloud obscuring the light, the light itself vanished. I started drinking. I didn’t stop drinking until I ran out of alcohol or money. Then, I stayed sober only long enough to get enough money to buy more alcohol. It was a fire in me. When I was nearly insensible from drinking, I could remember you without hurting so badly.”

“Ger’alin, I…” she started to say contritely.

“Eventually, Callie and I found ourselves in Stranglethorn Vale. She was thinking that perhaps we could hire ourselves out as mercenaries or merchant guards for the goblins there.

I was thinking that the liquor was cheap and easy. We were sitting in the common room of the Salty Sailor and I glanced over to see you sitting there, drinking a glass of wine.”

“But I was…”

“It had been exactly six months, one week, four days since I’d laid eyes on you. I had prayed for you to somehow return to me and I thought that perhaps the Light had wrought a miracle for me. I walked over to you – or rather, the person I thought was you – with the biggest, most foolish, happiest grin on my face. And then Ta’sia broke the drunken illusion with a few words. I apologized, quite politely, and then ordered enough whiskey to intoxicate an army of dwarves, had it sent to my room, and proceeded to get drunk. Then I got sick.

Then I drank more. I wanted to drown myself with it. How could I have ever let myself be that unfaithful to you?”

“Ger’alin, you thought I was dead…”

“That didn’t matter to me then,” he sighed, rubbing a thumb behind her ear. “I passed out. I suppose Callie must have cleaned me up and put me to bed. The next thing I remember is feeling you next to me. And, keep in mind, I thought it was you. I thought that I had died and wound up straight in paradise despite my many shortcomings. It was Ta’sia but she played along with it as if she were you. When I sobered up enough to realized I’d been cheated, I thought about killing myself right then and there.”

Alayne’s eyes filled with tears and she lowered her face to his chest. She’d thought that perhaps he’d had a brief, drunken fling. She hadn’t even suspected the truth. Ger’alin tucked a finger under her chin and forced her head up. “I’d heard enough growing up in the barracks like I did. And, no, Ta’sia wasn’t exactly the first woman I’d bedded. My comradesin-arms saw to that when I was accepted as a raw recruit at sixteen. Still, she was the first since then. Light,” he sighed. “I had been hoping that you would recover from that damned 117

illness and that you would be next and last woman I’d wake up next to for the rest of my life.”

“I’d like to kill her for doing that to you,” Alayne said angrily. “How could she do that?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But, I can think of something better than killing her.”

“Better than killing her? I’ve got to hear this.”

“Yes,” he grinned. Alayne gasped as the tent spun. Ger’alin had rolled them both so that she lay on her back and he lay on top of her. His face hovered inches above hers and his hands ran over her body, sending thrills up and down her spine until she could barely think at all. “I can think of things much, much better than that.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne lay quietly, listening to Ger’alin talk in his sleep. Part of her was tempted to wake him, to stay in his arms the rest of the night. Now she understood why Dar’ja and Zerith had kept everyone up their first night together. With a sigh, she slowly pushed his arm away and quietly snuck out of the tent, thankful it was far enough away that she could dress outside without worrying about anyone seeing her. She blushed when she thought that she was also glad it was far away so that no one would have heard them. Walking far enough away from the camp that the sound of her summoning wouldn’t spook Lucky or wake Ger’alin, she summoned her fel steed and climbed on its back, heeling it to a gallop as she hurried back to TerokkarForest. “Hopefully, it will all go well and I’ll be back before he wakes up,” she sighed. She stopped, dismounting only long enough to enslave a few of the skeletons wandering near the mausoleum of Auchindoun. She’d decided to risk adding them to her plan when she noticed them as she and Ger’alin rode past. Riding at a walk to let them stay with her, she skirted around the inhabited areas of the desert. Once or twice she looked over her shoulder, shivering when she thought someone was following her. Swimming her steed across the small stream north of Stonebreaker Hold, she gasped when she saw a familiar sight galloping out of the orcish stronghold and down the road. Ger’alin wheeled his horse to a halt when he saw Alayne sitting atop her fel steed next to the road, her head hanging and her shoulders slumped.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he asked, sounding irritated.

“To disarm that bomb,” she whispered.

“Do you think I want to be a widower so soon?” he demanded angrily.

“No,” she shot back in the same tone. “I can do this on my own. I see a way, at any rate.”

“So why go off alone?” he asked, softening. “Why sneak off without telling me? Did I not just swear to protect and shield you a few hours ago? Do you have any idea what it does to me to wake up and have no clue where you are?”

“I’m sorry about that. I have to do this alone because it’s dangerous and while I can protect myself, I don’t think I could protect you as well.”

“I’m quite capable of protecting myself, dearest,” he said tenderly, climbing from his saddle to take her in his arms.

“Not against this,” she shuddered. “When I set that thing to implode, arcane currents will pour out. Anyone who doesn’t know how to resist them could be killed or have their mind destroyed like that druid we saw,” she whispered. “I don’t think I could bear to have you look at me and not see me; I don’t know how you were able to deal with it when I…” “It just about killed me, I’ll admit,” he said, “but then, there were times when it would lift and you would see me. I lived for those times. Now, I’m not letting you walk in there alone.”

118

“Ger’alin…”

“You’re not going in there alone and that’s that. It’s bad enough that you’re still feeling as if this entire mess is somehow your fault. I’m going to kill that bastard Arthas for ever sending you the first vision of what has come to pass,” he said firmly but gently. “Once you’re ready to start doing whatever it is, I’ll move off a bit. You do whatever it is and I’ll have Lucky ready to carry us both out of there. I may not know as much as you about arcane currents, but I do know enough about my own addiction to be able to resist it long enough to get you out of there.”

“Just promise me that, if I signal for you to run for it, you’ll go. I’ll only do that if it looks like the whole thing is going to backfire on me.”

“I’ll promise no such thing. If it’s going to backfire on you, it will backfire on me too or else we head back to Nagrand right now. You know, Zerith would probably kill me for even considering letting you do this.”

“You can be really stubborn, you know,” she said, smiling.

“So can you. Now, do we stay out here all night arguing or…?”

“Let’s go,” she sighed, climbing aboard her fel steed. “Oh, and just for future reference,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder, “the skeletons are on our team.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin and Alayne tethered Lucky just out of sight of Firewing Point. Alayne dismissed her fel steed and began giving orders to the skeletons she’d enslaved. Then, the pair of sin’dorei began sneaking into the settlement, relieved to see that most of the others were abed and only a few token guards kept watch over the mana bomb.

“Magi must sleep. Especially magisters working on something like that,” Alayne mouthed when Ger’alin looked surprised. “I’ll explain later.” Sending a mental summons to the skeletons, she quickly overcame the few guards stationed around, killing them before they could raise the alarm. Once she and Ger’alin were certain that the way was clear, they snuck out into the courtyard, and, taking a moment to gather the bodies, propped them up sitting, so that it would look as if they still stood guard. Standing in front of the control panel, Ger’alin kept watch while Alayne fiddled with it. “Got it,” she said. “Oh, this is going to be painful for them. Ger’alin, go get Lucky and have him waiting. Once I set this thing off, the timer will start counting down and then, it’s going to make a very, very big ‘boom.’”

“Can you get out fast enough?”

“If you’ll catch me when I come flying out, yes.”

“Then I’ll go. Don’t start until you see me, though.” Alayne nodded impatiently and began the sequence to start the timer. She kept watch for Ger’alin and for any of Kael’s followers who might take it into their heads to check on the mana bomb. A few did peek out from the buildings, obviously satisfied that the guards still kept watch. Alayne sighed in relief when she saw Ger’alin wave from the forest. Hitting the timer, she quickly began channeling energy into the bomb’s matrix, destabilizing it and setting off a reaction that would make a very pretty explosion if anyone were crazy enough to try to stick around and watch instead of running for dear life. Hiking her skirts, she began running to Ger’alin. He held his hands out, ready to grab and pull her over his saddle. As she ran, one of Kael’s Blood Knights spotted her and, with a shout, gave chase. “Go, get out of here!” she screamed to Ger’alin.

“Not without you!” he shouted back, unsheathing his sword and turning towards her.

“Stay there and cover your ears!” she called, turning and letting loose a howl of sheer terror and rage that sent her chasers running back away from her. It would only hold them for a few seconds, but that was all she needed. Turning back, she ran and leapt up over the horse’s back, her legs dangling down one side. “Just ride!” she snarled, counting down the 119

seconds mentally before the bomb went off. Ger’alin kicked Lucky to a gallop as he grabbed Alayne with one hand, pulling her onto the horse the rest of the way.

“Four…three…two…one…,” she said between gritted teeth. “I’m sorry!”

The explosion rocked the forest, sending out a shockwave of arcane energy that pushed her and Ger’alin off the horse, sending them flying through the air to land in the stream a good distance away. Lucky rolled on his side, lying on the ground, stunned, while the shock wave passed over. When Alayne and Ger’alin managed to pull themselves onto the bank of the stream, they could see the white stone edifices of Firewing Point crumbling and collapsing in upon themselves. The gleaming spire was shattered, its remnants laying scattered about the area behind the settlement.

“Think they felt that in Shattrath?” Ger’alin asked loudly, his ears ringing from the roaring sound.

“Probably,” Alayne replied, only able to figure out what he said by reading his lips.

“I hope we didn’t just lame my horse,” Ger’alin muttered, helping Alayne to her feet and putting an arm around her waist as they limped back to where Lucky lay. Ger’alin knelt before his mount, putting his hands on the horse’s head and smiling. After a few more moments of gathering himself, Lucky managed to stagger to his hooves, nickering and whinnying. “We’ll walk him back part of the way,” Ger’alin said.

“If he’ll promise not to tell on us, I’ll give him a whole orchard of apples,” Alayne grinned. Patting her husband’s mount on the nose, she looped her arm through Ger’alin’s and the trio began to walk, somewhat unsteadily, back to Nagrand.

“I hope Zerith and the others don’t suspect that was us,” Ger’alin whispered when they made it past the golden city. “Because you’re not leaving the tent again for a good long while and I would really hate for us to be interrupted by your brother coming to kill us both for being hot-headed fools. I can just see him lecturing us both now while we’re catching our breath.”

“We’ll put up a sign,” Alayne suggested, grinning wickedly. “If the tent’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.”

Ger’alin had to stop his attempt to climb back into the saddle, leaning his face into Lucky’s front shoulder as he laughed. Alayne just blushed and grinned wider. When Ger’alin finally managed to stop laughing, he climbed up, pulling Alayne up in front of him, and set Lucky to a walk. “Have I told you lately how much fun being married to you is? Daring sneak attacks on our wedding night and sarcasm that Callie would envy,” he whispered in her ear with a sly grin of his own. ~*~*~*~ “I like it out here,” Alayne sighed contentedly on the day before she and Ger’alin were to return to Shattrath. “It’s so pretty.” The pair sat in the shade of a tree, north of Garadar, fishing. Talbuk grazed peacefully nearby, stopping to sniff Lucky as if they had never seen such an oddly-shaped deer before. Alayne and Ger’alin had even pulled up some grass and fed them, reminiscing about the days when nearly tame deer wandered through their homeland’s forests.

“We could stay out here, after it’s all said and done,” he answered. “It would be difficult to return to Silvermoon and stay silent about what we’ve learned. Not that opening our mouths would do much good. I also couldn’t go back to draining that poor naaru, M’uru.”

“What is the story behind that? Dar’ja’s been closed-mouthed about it. Jez’ral and the others suspect that the Blood Knights have access to some kind of potent magical power that they’re hoarding for themselves. Not that I think that at all,” she added quickly. “I know you

120

would never be part of hiding something that could help free us from tapping into fel energies.”

“We were originally told that the thing was just a focus-point for Light-energy. In the beginning, I wasn’t much interested in learning to tap from it,” he sighed, putting an arm around Alayne and keeping half an eye on the fishing line. “I didn’t gain any interest in wresting the power of the Light until you took ill. As I advanced in my studies, I learned that it was actually a living creature that Kael had captured and sent back to Silvermoon for us to drain. I disliked drawing on it after I learned that. I would only do it to try to help you.

Slavery is an ugly word, and so is torture, which is what we were doing to that poor thing.”

“We should go back and free it,” Alayne said. “I hate slavery. Only demons merit that fate.”

“A’dal says that M’uru – that’s the creature’s name – is playing a role he chose for himself. That what Kael intended for evil will be used for good. I’ve been thinking about that out here with you. I think I’m beginning to see what he meant.”

“And that is?”

“Well, it’s complicated and doesn’t make a lot of sense so bear with me,” Ger’alin said, stretching out on his back. Alayne turned and scooted near his shoulder, reaching out to begin plaiting his hair into a braid. “You really like doing that,” he laughed.

“Go on with your theory,” she smiled. “I’d like to hear it.”

“Just remember that I don’t know all the things you do about history and the like. Be merciful.” Alayne quirked an eyebrow at him, grinning when he smiled. “Alright, woman, you’ve dragged it out of me. No fair pulling my hair out if you don’t like the beginning bit.”

“Ger’alin, if you don’t stop with the delaying tactic, I’ll tickle your nose with this braid,” she said, shaking a fistful of his own hair at him in mock threat.

“Right, right. Alayne, you’re a warlock,” he said.

“Yes.” “Warlocks are bad, right?”

“Historically speaking, they have been.”

“And paladins are good, right?”

“Again, historically speaking, yes, though Arthas was a paladin and he’s not what I consider ‘good’ by any stretch of the word. What does this have to do with what A’dal said?”

“Just that, here you are – not just a warlock, but a demonologist, a person who consorts with some of the vilest creatures in existence…and you were using all of that to do good things. I’d been raised on stories of power-hungry magi and warlocks selling their souls to try to destroy those they hated. Then, I met you. You didn’t try to destroy anyone unless they deserved it, like Dar’khan and Arugal. You never seemed interested in gaining more power for yourself. Then, remember, I’d also been raised on stories of Uther the Lightbringer and the Silver Hand. Noble, self-sacrificing paladins, blessed by the Light. Only, in Silvermoon, I see paladins who are only interested in gaining power for themselves and using it to tyrannize those who spoke out against them. From what should have been evil – you – I saw great goodness. From what should have been good – the Blood Knights – I saw evil. I’m getting to the point, Alayne,” he laughed when she sighed in frustration. “A’dal says M’uru came to us and that good will come from the evil Kael intended. What I think is that the naaru knew all along that we’d lost our way with the destruction of the Sunwell and the invasion of the Scourge. And, that just like a warlock could reach into darkness to bring forth light, we can find our path out of the darkness by the willing sacrifice of a being of Light. The more I think about it, the more I come to believe that the naaru have been trying to reach out to us, to help us find something to replace the Sunwell. That the Light didn’t abandon us as so many of my fellows say. It sent us M’uru. So, what do you think?”

121

Alayne sat quietly for a few minutes, her gaze turned inward as she considered what Ger’alin had said. He let her mull over it in silence, turning his gaze to the clouds. “I think,” she said, causing him to turn back and look at her. Her expression was concentrated. “I think that if you ever call yourself an oaf again, I will hit you over the head,” she grinned. “And, I think I know what you’re getting at. You want to study with the naaru and devote yourself to their cause.”

“Okay, that’s not fair. How did you read my mind?” he laughed, sitting up and propping his arms on his knees. “Though, I will not abandon Voren’thal’s cause at all. He is right to rebel against Kael’thas. I just want to learn from the Aldor and the naaru as much as I can and bring their teachings to our people. It’s like I tell my students back in Silvermoon…” “‘You can’t learn anything if you’re convinced you know everything, you Lightblasted fools!’” Alayne quoted, pitching her voice low and gruff. Ger’alin threw his head back, laughing.

“I still want to know how you read my mind,” he teased.

“Honestly? I...I just know you. Ever since that morning in Zangarmarsh…well,” she blushed, “I’ve felt this connection to you, as if some part of you had become part of me and vice versa.” Ger’alin nodded and Alayne smiled, knowing he felt the same thing. “You read my mind all the time, now,” she laughed. “How else would you have known that I was planning to set off that mana bomb? Can you tell what I’m thinking now?” she grinned.

“Yes, and I say we build it right over there,” he laughed, pointing to the clearing where they’d pitched the tent. “Hmph,” he snorted, adopting a tone of mock exasperation, “I should not have drawn your attention to the tent. I suppose the fish will still be biting in a few hours,” he grinned when she leaned over and kissed him. ~*~*~*~ “What did you two do?” Zerith asked mildly when Alayne and Ger’alin rode back into Shattrath a few days later.

“What do you think we did, Zerith? Light, you’re married, too. I could show you a few diagrams but that would not be very gentlemanly of me,” Ger’alin replied flippantly as he helped Alayne down out of the saddle.

“You know what I mean,” the priest said, pointing to the west. “Firewing Point has been destroyed. That mana bomb was set off the night the two of you went to Nagrand.”

“Well, mana bombs are highly unstable,” Alayne said quickly. “Maybe they just lost control of it?”

“And maybe sheep will grow wings and fly,” Zerith retorted. “What did you two do?”

“Why are you so certain we had anything to do with that?” Alayne asked, trying to look innocent. “We’re a staid old married couple now, not a couple of hot-headed fools who decide to make things go ‘boom’ for fun.” “‘Staid?’” Zerith quoted as if tasting the word. “I don’t think ‘staid’ applies to either of you. What did you do?”

“Nothing you need to know about but about half of what was in Arelion’s journal,” Ger’alin replied. “There, you dragged it out of us.”

“You two little brats,” Zerith laughed. “Fine, don’t tell me. A’dal, however, says it was the pair of you and I think I’ll believe him.”

“As you like it,” Alayne grinned. “So, did anything interesting happen while we were gone?” Zerith blushed and started laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. “Callie and Dar’ja switch places?” she asked, eliciting a nod from him. “We’ve got a great plan to get back at her.”

122

“I’d like to hear it,” he said when he managed to get his laughter under control. “For now, we’re hoping you two did more than just find a congenial camping spot and stay there the entire time. Jez’ral, Callie, Dar’ja, and I have spent the past few days establishing our reputations with the Sha’tar here in Terokkar. Jez’ral’s impatient to be heading over to Nagrand himself. He wants to finish his research there and then head to ShadowmoonValley.

It seems that he’s learned more about how, exactly, Kael and Illidan tainted the Outland orcs and he wants to try to cleanse them. I think we should tag along with the two of you,” he said, pointing to Alayne, “because if we can free them from their demonic taint, they might be powerful allies out here. Perhaps it would even help us convince Thrall to start negotiations between the Scryers and the Silvermoon government so we can return home, one day.”

“We actually talked about that ourselves,” Ger’alin said.

“I’ll bet you did. Was this before or after you did nothing to that mana bomb?”

“No, really, we did,” Alayne protested. “Show him what we came up with, Ger’alin.”

Ger’alin grinned and pulled a parchment out of his pack. Unrolling it with a flourish, he held it up for Zerith to see.

“That’s not a house,” Zerith muttered. “That’s an establishment.”

“Well, we need plenty of room. There’s you and Dar’ja,” Ger’alin said, “Alayne and I, Callie, Jez’ral and Mir’el. Not to mention that we need some place for the kids.”

“And just when are you two planning to start building this edifice?”

“We could swing back by Garadar and have the foundation started today. We, um, did a few favors for the Mag’har while we were honeymooning.”

“You two…,” Zerith chuckled. “You never let grass grow on an idea, do you? Well, I’ll be happy to contribute to this project and I’m certain Dar’ja and Callie will as well. You might want to make sure Jez’ral is fine with it…”

“He will be,” Alayne interrupted.” “…before you commit to this. Go ask him, Alayne.”

“I will. Now, are we going to just be sitting around Shattrath or…?”

“That’s up to you and Jez’ral, Alayne. Like I said, he wants to visit Nagrand himself but he also wants to head over to ShadowmoonValley. Go speak with him and then come back to me. If we’re heading to ShadowmoonValley first, then we’ll bring all of the others along. Word is that the Horde is short-handed there and could use every volunteer they can find. If we’re going to Nagrand, then we’ll leave the others here for a while to see what they can do to assist the Sha’tar and the Scryers.”

Alayne nodded and hurried off to the library where Jez’ral and the other magi would most likely be found. Zerith clapped a hand on Ger’alin’s shoulder and smiled. “So,” he said again, “what did you two do?” ~*~*~*~ “Look who’s back!” Jez’ral laughed when Alayne ducked into the library. “I was beginning to wonder if I would have to send out a search party to find you. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “Zerith says you haven’t quite decided between Nagrand and ShadowmoonValley. Perhaps I can help you reach a decision so we can get on with our work?”

“I’ve decided already, actually,” Jez’ral sighed, patting the cushion next to him.

Alayne sat down and stared up at him. Her former teacher’s face was haggard and drawn, his former happy expression just a memory. He looked as if he were staring at a possibility he loathed considering. “We’ll be going to ShadowmoonValley, next,” he sighed. “Nagrand can

123

wait. I’ll have the rest of my life to wander around out there, alone. Mir’el is going to kill me.”

“We’ll figure out some way to get word to him. Maybe Callie could sneak in to Silvermoon? Or maybe we could have a message sent to him?”

“It wouldn’t work. If he came out here, he’d be devastated to learn that I’ve decided to go against Kael’thas. Mir’el has looked up to the prince his whole life long. He’d never forgive me for turning against him, no matter the reason.”

“Mir’el also would be horrified to learn that Kael’thas helped to taint the Outland orcs. He’d be sickened to find out what we’ve learned. Don’t beat yourself up, Jez’ral. He will understand and he’ll come out here, if for no other reason than that Ger’alin and I are going to build an absolutely enormous house and we want to pay him back for letting us have his family’s home.”

“You’re building a house?”

“In Nagrand. We’ve got a room planned for you and Mir’el for your…experiments.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” he said, smiling and patting her on the knee. “For now, we need to read up on the demons of ShadowmoonValley and try to figure out which is most likely the kind Illidan is using to taint the orcs. None of Voren’thal’s followers knows exactly which demon was used.”

“It would have to be powerful,” Alayne muttered. “Otherwise the bloodlust would wear off and he’d have to keep re-tainting them.”

“I suspect that Illidan probably keeps the demon close to him. From what I can learn, he’s holed up in the BlackTemple in ShadowmoonValley. We may have to go in there and rout him out.”

“Just like that?” Alayne laughed. “Waltz right up to one of the most powerful sorcerers in history and punch him in the face? And people say I’m hot-headed.”

“Your brother has a plan.”

“He always does. I hope he’s got a funeral in this plan because we’re going to need several if we’re going up against Illidan Stormrage.”

“Listen to you. When did you become so pessimistic? We all know you and Ger’alin set off that mana bomb. I’m sure you had a wonderful plan for that one,” he mocked.

“Sneaking into a sin’dorei settlement at night and making a bomb go off is one thing,” Alayne huffed. “Walking up to one of the most powerful mortal beings in all of creation is another thing altogether. Tell me, Jez’ral, are you so convinced that you’ll never see Mir’el again that you want to get yourself killed?”

“No but I’d much rather go up against the Betrayer than have to face…have to face what Kael is doing! Perhaps if we take out Illidan, perhaps if we show Kael that there is a power he’s discounting…maybe he’ll stop his mad plot and welcome us back so we can go home!”

“Jez’ral…”

“Enough, Alayne. Go and gather whatever information you can on night elven sorcery. Surely with your obsession with history, you should be able to find something that would help us counter Illidan’s magics.”

Alayne nodded and stood up. Walking along the bookstands, she pulled out any tome that had anything to do with night elven magic, sorcery, the Well of Eternity, or Illidan’s personal history. By the time she was finished, she had a stack of books she couldn’t see over, as well as two more stacks being carried by sin’dorei students. Jez’ral stifled a laugh as he watched the three mince-step out of the library and wondered if Alayne would sleep at all tonight between being newly-wed and her overenthusiastic work-ethic, especially when it came to something that truly captured her attention. Putting his assistant out of his mind, he pulled up his lap desk and the letter he’d been writing before she’d entered. Chewing on the 124

tip of his pen, smiling ruefully when he recalled how Mir’el used to berate him for doing that, he crumbled up the parchment, tossed it aside, and began again. ~*~*~*~ “That’s it,” Ger’alin muttered when he entered his and Alayne’s room. “No one is ever allowed to call either one of us ‘hot-headed’ ‘short-tempered’ ‘impetuous’ or ‘foolish’ again.”

“I take it Zerith told you what Jez’ral has him planning,” she replied absently, still absorbed in her reading, scribbling notes on a parchment she’d set on top of one of the discarded tomes next to her on the bed. “Don’t tip over the ink jar,” she warned when Ger’alin sat down at the foot of the bed. He grinned and lowered himself carefully to lie down next to her, reading over her shoulder and glancing at the notes she was taking.

“I didn’t know there were so many ways to say ‘this is hopeless,’” he teased, reading the notes she’d scribbled in the margin.

“I’ve thought of at least another half-dozen,” she grinned. “This is going to be tough but I’m actually becoming cautiously optimistic that it can be done. Not by us, certainly, but by someone.”

“Such as?”

“Well, if we could just go back in time a few millennia and one,” she said, lifting her hand and jutting out an ink-stained thumb, “ask the night elves under Azshara to prettyplease-with-honey-on-top not summon Sargeras and cause the implosion of the Well of Eternity, two,” she added, ticking off another blue-stained finger, “convince at least fifty of the most skilled magi to come forward in time with us, and then three, convince them to side with us and not Illidan –provided, of course, that our earlier tampering hadn’t rendered this whole exercise a moot point –then maybe we could do it. Frankly, I think a better plan would be to figure out exactly what demon is being used to taint the Outland orcs, find and kill it, free them from the taint, hope they accept us as their saviors, and lead the whole lot of them against Illidan. What we lack in skill, experience, expertise, and sheer raw talent, we could make up for in overwhelming numbers.”

“So, suggest that to Zerith.”

“I did. He’s selling Jez’ral on the idea. The problem is that the demon in question might be sitting right next to Illidan’s chair for all we know.”

“There has to be a way to figure out which demon is being used and where it is,” he sighed, “what do you know about it?”

“That it’s powerful, that the taint doesn’t wear off the way it would were the demon a lesser entity such as fel guard or doom guard.”

“Powerful demon…in Outland…would Illidan summon one for that purpose?”

“I doubt it. You don’t just summon demons that powerful. It’s not as if they’re easily controlled, even by Illidan.”

“So, it probably would have been one that was already here in Outland before Illidan ran out here.”

“You may be right…”

“Let’s see, that would make it either that monster Kazzak or Magtheridon.”

“I doubt very much it’s Kazzak. He still roams free. But wasn’t Magtheridon killed?”

“I spoke with the Aldor a bit and they say that Illidan defeated Magtheridon and claimed the BlackTemple for his own. Defeat doesn’t have to mean death; not if someone as powerful as Illidan is after you. Death would be something of a relief, then.”

125

“Ger’alin,” Alayne said, slamming her book shut and grinning at him, “You’re a genius. I’ve got to go tell Jez’ral about this! If it’s Magtheridon, we just find out where he is and go after him! We might not even have to face Illidan at all.”

“You run and go tell Jez’ral, then, and see if he can figure out where old Maggy’s being held. I’ll just straighten up in here, make it look a little less like a library exploded.

Oh,” he said, feigning casualness, “bring back something to eat when you return. We’ve been apart a whole three hours and I intend to do my best to get them back.” ~*~*~*~ “That still doesn’t erase the fact that we don’t know where Magtheridon is,” Zerith sighed the next morning as the six sat in his and Dar’ja’s room, discussing various strategies and plans.

“Maybe one of the Scryers knows?” Ger’alin suggested.

“I doubt it. None of them have said anything about it. Not that we’ve really been asking,” the priest admitted ruefully. “We were so focused on Illidan.”

“So, we’ll ask around. Admit it, Zerith,” Alayne smiled, “this is a much better idea than trying to storm the BlackTemple.”

“It is, but it all hinges on the orcs deciding to join us after they’re freed,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “We’re still not sure they weren’t loyal to Illidan in the first place and he’s just tainted them to make them stronger.”

“I have to admit, it’s unlikely that they follow Illidan willingly. At least, not all of them. Some of their leaders might follow him for reasons of their own but most orcs hate and abhor demons as much as everyone else,” Jez’ral mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. A sudden rapping at the door pulled him out of his reverie and made the others jump at the unexpected noise. Dar’ja reached over and pulled open the door, her eyes widening in shock when one of the Aldor Vindicators entered.

“A’dal has requested that you speak with him when your duties permit,” the draenei said. The sin’dorei and Forsaken stared at him while they puzzled out his strange accent.

“We’re on our way,” Zerith said quickly, rising and striding out of the room. The others followed on his heels, stopping when they saw a group of Magisters helping Voren’thal out of the library.

“A’dal called for you?” the elder asked, beckoning them over.

“Yes,” Zerith answered for the group.

“He’s called for all of us, then. Perhaps it has something to do with your mad plan.”

“Perhaps,” Zerith grinned.

“It’s suicide, you know, going up against Illidan. He’s mad, but he’s lost none of his power.”

“Actually, we’re working on a variation on that plan,” Alayne cut in. “But we need some information about powerful demons which were already in Outland before Illidan fled out here.”

“Then it’s Magtheridon you’re after now,” Voren’thal said, shaking his head. “Are all young sin’dorei this eager to rush off into battle and get themselves killed?”

“We are,” Ger’alin said simply. “It beats sitting around and waiting for someone to summon the whole Legion into Silvermoon and finish what Arthas started.”

“You have a point, young Blood Knight,” Voren’thal laughed. “You wield it with the grace of an axe-thrower, but you have a point. Very well, we will lend you what assistance we can. Illidan, Kael, Vashj, and Akama defeated Magtheridon and his lieutenants, casting them out of the BlackTemple. However, I know he is not in the Templeany longer. Illidan feared that –should Magtheridon ever break free of his or Kael’s control –keeping him in the 126

BlackTemple would make it too easy for the demon to take his revenge against his captors. I don’t know where Illidan banished the monster off to. It could be anywhere; HellfirePeninsula, guarded by the Outland orcs; Vashj’s cavern in the waters beneath SerpentLake; with Kael in the remnants of Tempest Keep; or even beneath Auchindoun, the catacombs of Terokkar.”

“You’re certain the demon is not with Illidan?” Zerith asked. Jez’ral shot him a look filled with daggers which the priest ignored.

“Having been in the BlackTemple myself, having walked its halls, I can say with certainty that Magtheridon is not there. That’s not much help to you, I know, but perhaps one of the naaru knows.”

Ger’alin nodded. The naaru knew many things. Perhaps the location of Magtheridon and the means by which he could be defeated where among them. He reached out and put an arm around Alayne when he heard her breath catch as they reached the elevator, he and the others descended. “It’s safe now,” he whispered. Zerith chuckled. Together, the group walked into the golden building where A’dal and the other naaru hovered about. Ger’alin closed his eyes and let the presence of the beings wash over him. Now Alayne led him. Zerith sighed and picked Dar’ja up in his arms. Brother and sister grinned at each other; while they could feel the calming presence and hear the chiming tones of the naaru in their spirits, neither priest nor warlock was as overwhelmed by the nearness as the two paladins.

“You are here,” A’dal said warmly as the group reached him.

“As you have asked, so have we come,” Voren’thal replied formally, going down on one knee and pressing a fist to the floor. The others mimicked his posture, save for Ger’alin who remained on his feet, staring up at the being of Light.

“Word of your plans has reached me, young ones,” the naaru chimed, singling out the Disorder of Azeroth. “Illidan is but a distraction – albeit one that must be dealt with sooner rather than later.The Legion is the true threat. You must face it and leave the brooding ‘Lord of Outland’ to his dark thoughts. None of you could stand against his might, his madness.”

“We’ve made a small change in our plans,” Zerith began, trailing off as the naaru’s full attention fell on him, nearly sweeping him off his feet.

“Instead of going after Illidan, we wish to free the Outland orcs from their demonic taint,” Ger’alin said. “To do that, we will hunt down and destroy Magtheridon, the demon Illidan has used to taint the orcs. Any information you could give us concerning his whereabouts would be most useful.”

“The demon Magtheridon is held captive beneath the orcish stronghold of Hellfire Citadel. Yes, in the basement that was shielded and you were unable to enter. So closely confined and watched by their untainted brethren, the fel orc captors will no doubt be weak enough to pose little threat to you,” A’dal responded. “I see the shape of the plan in your mind, young sin’dorei. It is a good one. The orcs of Outland may yet be redeemed to serve the Light instead of the Legion.”

“That is my goal,” Ger’alin said simply. “As you have worked to redeem us, so I would work to redeem others.” Zerith and Dar’ja stared at the man, their jaws dropping in shock. Alayne grinned, her pride in her husband soaring over the crystal spires of the city.

Callie just shook her head knowingly. She caught Alayne’s eye, laughing silently when the woman winked at her and rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at Dar’ja and Zerith. “Thank you for your assistance, A’dal,” he continued, bowing formally. “Might I…,” he started, a bit uncertainly. “Might I return to you later – at your convenience, of course – for instruction?”

“With our blessing, young seeker,” A’dal chimed, sounding amused. Ger’alin blushed and bowed again. The others rose to their feet, pausing to help Voren’thal up, made their courtesies, and then left the leader of the Scryers to converse with A’dal. Once outside, Zerith sighed and chuckled, reaching over to give Ger’alin a nudge on the shoulder.

127

“What was that all about?” the priest asked, sounding amused and somewhat surprised. “Redemption, instruction?”

“Ger’alin’s found a cause to believe in,” Callie responded. “Don’t give me that disbelieving look; I spent almost a year with him. Gerry’s more than just a sword-slinging hot-head who can out-drink, out-fight, and just generally out-last any taker. He got the same way after running into Ber’lon.”

“Alayne, he’s your husband,” Zerith laughed. “Does this surprise you at all?”

“Not a bit,” she replied. “You forget, even before I took ill, he and I spent a lot of time together. I’ve always known this side of him existed. It’s just a matter of his deciding to let it show through his normal ‘hi, here I am, can I bash something for you’ demeanor. He’s a good listener, a clear thinker, and frequently able to get right to the heart of the problem. I remember how dedicated he was to looking after me while I was looking after you in Tarren Mill, Zerith.”

“Thank you for speaking as if I’m not here,” Ger’alin grinned. Alayne wagged her head, laughing silently. Callie shrugged.

“Where are you two going now?” Zerith asked when his sister and Ger’alin peeled off and began walking towards the other tier.

“The Aldor,” they said in unison. “The draenei priests and vindicators hold information that could help our people truly turn their backs on Kael’s dark path,” Alayne explained.

“And, in addition to that, they may have information on Hellfire Citadel and Magtheridon. The draenei are native to Draenor, after all. The more information we can gather, the more likely we are to have a plan that involves most of us surviving. Besides, rumor has it they are a long-lived race. There is much they know that could be of use to us,” Ger’alin continued.

“Lastly,” they both said together, “it never hurts to have more allies.” Waving, they continued on their way, leaving Zerith and the others staring after them.

“Am I the only one who is getting a little concerned about how closely they echo each other?” Jez’ral wondered aloud. “I’ve heard of couples who can complete each other’s sentences but they’ve barely been married a week!” ~*~*~*~ “What’s this?” Zerith asked when Alayne and Ger’alin dropped a set of maps in front of him that afternoon.

“The layout of Hellfire Citadel. As you’ll recall, there are several wings.The part we’re interested in is here,” Alayne said, pointing to one of the subterranean areas. “If we post a few guards along this path, we should be able to push through to where Magtheridon is being held without having to worry about an attack from the rear.”

“How are they holding him?” Zerith wondered aloud.

“Some of the more powerful warlocks from the tainted orcs keep him in a state of semi-banishment; holding him captive between this plane and the Nether,” Alayne explained.

“The Aldor spies were able to penetrate that far using their contacts among the Broken,” she added when Zerith stared at her.

“Why haven’t they told the Scryers? Aren’t we all on the same side here?” he muttered.

“They don’t trust us yet,” Ger’alin sighed. “It took quite a bit of convincing to get them to even talk to us. They nearly threw us off their tier. Only A’dal telling them to get over it stayed their hands.”

128

“At any rate, we should be able to break in there,” Alayne said. “The shield shouldn’t present too much of a problem now. A’dal and the Aldor both think that with the virtual siege we’ve laid on the area, the fel orcs will not be able to sustain the shield under an assault.”

“Sounds like you two have this all worked out already,” Zerith said, sounding bemused. “Is there anything left you need me to work on?”

“Assigning the groups,” Ger’alin grinned. “We had a small disagreement about that.”

“Disagreement?” Alayne snorted. “Try our first real argument.”

“Tried to put her in reserve?” her brother observed mildly. Ger’alin nodded. “She make you change your mind?”

“She and those claws she calls ‘fingernails’ were quite convincing. I wish I’d never taught her how to fight dirty,” he sighed, laughing. “Still, it’s…” “…your own fault for thinking that just because I love you I’ll perch on your wrist,” she grinned. He shook his head, smiling ruefully, and shrugged. “It was worth a try,” she added, speaking his thoughts.

“I won’t promise not to try it again, woman,” he laughed, responding to her unspoken thoughts. “Women and children first and all that.”

“You should…,” she started to say.

“I fully intend to. I need to run a few things past Zerith here before…”

“Yes, he would know more about that than I would,” she murmured. “I’ll just go…”

“Don’t stay with him too long. We’ll probably finish up here and…”

“Could the two of you stop doing that?” Zerith laughed. “Light, it’s like listening in to half a conversation. Now, what is it you want to talk to me about?” he asked, turning to Ger’alin. Alayne ruffled her husband’s hair fondly before leaving to go speak with the other casters about the plans she and Ger’alin had made. She paused just outside the doorway, glad that she’d managed to keep her hands from shaking since the Aldor handed them the map and Ger’alin had begun making his plans. She feared something was coming…something that she should be able to see and stop…if only she knew what. ~*~*~*~ Callie hung back that evening, keeping to the shadows, a ledger perched on her knee and an ink jar on the table in front of her. She shook her head, grinning and laughing, as she observed her subjects at dinner, noting possibilities for future pranks.

“What are you doing over here in the dark?” Jez’ral asked, sitting down next to her.

“I’ve been watching you watch them for a solid half-hour. Feeling like a fifth wheel, my dear Forsaken?”

“Nope,” she grinned, jotting down another observation. “Just working on my treatise.”

“Hm. Dinner: the priest and the female paladin manage to pass courses and side items around without the need for verbal communication. The other paladin and the warlock (the odd couple) carry on a conversation consisting of gestures and glances. Conjecture: marriage among sin’dorei grants telepathic powers?” he read over her shoulder. “Further observation needed to confirm findings. Possible avenues for exploitation: joining in with further nonverbal communication and then announcing that parties have agreed to…they’d never agree to that one!” Jez’ral laughed.

“No, but standing up and announcing that they have agreed to accept me as their Imperial Majesty would be highly amusing,” the undead laughed. “So, have you heard about the plan?”

“Which plan?”

129

“The one Mir’el is going to give you fits over. Alayne doesn’t understand why you won’t send for him. Neither do I. He’s got the knowledge, the experience, the skill, and the talent that we could use to gain an edge in the coming fight,” she said pointedly, putting her notes away.

“We are not dragging Mir’el out here into a battle. We are going to leave him in peace, in Silvermoon, blissfully unaware of anything going on out here.”

“And if one of us has to deal with the unfortunate task of sending word to him of your demise?” Callie asked, raising her eyebrows. “Light, you’re as bad as Alayne.”

“No, I’m not. I have entrusted a letter explaining everything to one of the Magisters.

In the unfortunate circumstance that I get killed, Mir’el will know what he needs to know.

Now, we are not going to send for him or otherwise disturb him. I know enough from him to be able to help Alayne keep Magtheridon from running amuck.”

“Yes, but neither of you is really that good at controlling larger demons,” Callie argued. “Fel guards are about as large as you go. Ger’alin told me about the problems you had controlling that one demon at the Pools of Aggonar. The pair of you had to team up to do it and even then, he slipped out of your control pretty quickly. Send for Mir’el. Alayne’s told me about how he managed to make Varimathras dance! The Dark Lady’s right-hand-demon, waltzing and trotting about as if he were at a ball. I’d give one of my internal organs to have seen that.”

“We’re not sending for him and that’s the end of it,” Jez’ral muttered as he stood up and turned to leave.

“You know, you’re a strange one,” Callie sighed. “At first, I thought you were a real jerk because you dragged Alayne into Desolace, let her go off and get into trouble, gave me lip about it when I came to get you, acted all snooty about working with us to rescue her, and then just generally annoyed me with your refusal to answer any questions when she fell ill. I know, I know,” the Forsaken said, waving his mouth shut, “you were a Master Warlock.

Those of us who had not risen to your exalted status were not to question you; especially not about one of your students. Mir’el managed to make you see reason on that, it seems. You come out here with her as your assistant. You let the rest of us tag along. You go along with our pranks. You join in our battles without a complaint. Now, all of a sudden, you’re trying to pull rank again and tell us we can’t go and collect a man whose whole family has spent thousands of years and tens of generations studying powerful demons and methods of taming or controlling them. Why not?”

“Because Mir’el has only ever faced battle once and he did not handle it well,” Jez’ral sighed, sitting back down. “He’s my senior by twenty years. During the last war, he and I were together with the humans under Jaina Proudmoore at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. Mir’el had been sent specifically because of his family’s tradition of studying demons. He was able to offer advice on how to fight them, how to hold them off while Malfurion prepared to launch his counterattack. I went with him to that battle as his assistant, much as Alayne now is mine. Oh, we were more than that, yes,” he said, blushing. “Had been for many years. But during that battle…he saw and did things that haunted him for years. Sometimes he still wakes up screaming, seeing Archimonde march on our position and remembering how, when faced with fulfilling his family’s dream, he looked up, saw that monstrous being, and fainted.

I will not have a hand in putting him through that again. I would die first.”

“He will probably kill you when he finds out you let Alayne do it, though,” Callie said gently. “Why does he dote on her so much? Even to the point of calling himself her long-lost uncle.”

“Oh, that?” Jez’ral said, blinking away the memories. Smiling, he stifled a laugh.

“Because he was to have married Alayne’s mother.”

“Say that again?”

130

“It’s a long story, Forsaken,” he grinned, remembering. “And, if Alayne doesn’t know it, I’d rather she heard it first before I tell you and you run and blab it all over creation.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Callie protested. “So, if he was going to marry her mother, won’t he be even angrier at you for letting Alayne go up against Magtheridon?”

“We’re not bringing him out here,” Jez’ral said firmly. “Now, I’ll let you return to chronicling the habits of newlywed sin’dorei. I have my own studies to be about,” he muttered, returning to his room. “Forgive me, Mir’el,” he whispered, “but I will not let you suffer all those sleepless nights, all those years of nightmares and waking terrors again. Not even for Miris’s daughter,” he sighed as he began poring over texts, some written by Mir’el himself, concerning control of higher demonic entities. “I will risk anything to save you that suffering again.” ~*~*~*~ The sun had long since set when the group gathered at Falcon Watch set out for Hellfire Citadel. They had ridden from TerokkarForest that morning, practically taking over the sin’dorei settlement. The blood elves from the Disorder of Azeroth were careful to keep their mouths shut and their reactions to hearing Kael’thas praised muted. The pilgrims would learn in their own time.

Zerith eyed the path leading down into the lower regions of the fortress warily.

Alayne and the other warlocks were in position already. Jez’ral stood to the side studying their work. As the man who knew the most about controlling demons, Jez’ral had been deliberately kept out of this part of the operation. He would need all of his focus and energy to accomplish his own task later on. Provided, of course, that the orcs maintaining the shield had weakened enough.

After a brief time, Jez’ral nodded and strode up the path to where the others were gathered. Ger’alin and Tau’re stood waiting for the signal to advance. The rest of the Disorder of Azeroth was hidden around the bend in case the orcs inside the basement had been watching over them. It was always better to hide your true numbers until battle itself forced you to reveal them. Ger’alin tried not to wince as he recalled the argument he’d had with Alayne over allowing her to be among the first into the area they were calling Magtheridon’s Lair. “It’s no place for a woman!” he’d tried to protest, only to earn himself another chase up a tree when all of the women in the Disorder of Azeroth decided to prove that they were just as valiant as the men. “Well, it isn’t,” he muttered to himself.

Next to him, Zerith snorted and stifled a laugh.A year of marriage under his own belt had taught him, oftentimes the hard way, that silence was frequently the better part of valor when it came to arguing with your wife. Ger’alin glared hard at Jez’ral as he passed; only Alayne and Callie seemed to accept the warlock’s insistence that Mir’el be left alone entirely.

“They’re in,” Dar’ja whispered as the warlocks disappeared into the doorway.

Waiting for a silent count of twenty, Zerith watched as the next two groups rushed in.

Waiting for another count of twenty, he led the main healer groups in, motioning for the reserve to wait and take up position once they were well on their way. Ducking into the entrance, his breath caught as he heard the muffled sounds of fighting from further down the ramp. Signaling for his group to hurry on, he sighed with relief when he reached the bottom of the descending corridor. Only a few half-starved orc guards and warlocks had been in the room. They had been quickly overwhelmed by the numbers of the Disorder of Azeroth.

“Ready?” Alayne asked, looking over the gathering. Zerith nodded and she and Jez’ral led the warlocks further down the corridor, treading as silently as rogues would.

Ger’alin led his group of fighters alongside them, leaving Zerith to hold the others back, giving the group of warlocks and fighters a chance to get into position without distractions.

131

“Now!” the priest shouted, signaling the rest to run down the corridor as the first sounds of conflict drifted up. Seconds later, he stood in the doorway to the large circular room, watching as the warlocks channeled into the hulking pit lord, keeping him in his state of semi-banishment while the fighters and magi took down the orc channelers. The orc warlocks put up a good fight, summoning lesser demons to their aid. However, the Disorder of Azeroth had planned for this and was not surprised. Once the orcs were down and Magtheridon alone remained, the Forsaken and sin’dorei warlocks gathered around Jez’ral began focusing their concentration, letting the demon draw nearer to this plane slowly, giving the others a chance to get in position to keep the pit lord from being able to do anything other than defend.

As the demon materialized and the fighters bore in, the warlocks, lending their energies to Jez’ral, struggled to force the pit lord into docility. The effort of trying to force their combined wills on the demon showed in the way Jez’ral’s eyes bulged and sweat rolled down his face. Only Alayne standing next to him, letting him bear down on her shoulder as she concentrated on helping him maintain control, kept him from toppling to the floor. With every bite of the blade or spark of the spell, the group trying to control Magtheridon shuddered as if they had been struck.

“It’s working,” Callie sighed in relief as the battle roared on. The pit lord could not deflect their blows; the warlocks had him completely cowed. She bit her lip, wishing she’d said nothing, when she heard Jez’ral begin screaming, clutching his head and collapsing on the floor. Alayne attempted to maintain control but was quickly repelled as the demon lord regained control of his mind and body and began flailing about with his claws and tails, sweeping the Disorder of Azeroth’s fighters off their feet.

Alayne and another warlock grabbed Jez’ral’s shoulders, dragging the now unconscious man out of the fight and back to the healers. “This just got ugly,” she heard Dar’ja mutter as the sounds of fighting began drifting down the corridor. “Looks like we’ve got company coming.”

The warlock nodded and raced back to the battle against the pit lord. Rallying those with her, she began launching spells as quickly as she could, not stopping to let herself realize how exhausted she was from the effort of keeping the demon docile. The fighters had regrouped as well, keeping Magtheridon busy as they attacked from multiple angles, never giving him a moment’s peace to recover his energy or regain the initiative. Alayne winced and bit her tongue to keep from screaming out when she saw Ger’alin move in, flinging his shield aside, and grab for the pit lord’s armor. He and several other fighters, including Tau’re, began clambering up, their blades stabbing deep into the demon’s hide. Magtheridon reached for them, grabbing at them with his claws and throwing them across the room. Still, there were too many for him to fend off and, before long, one of them, a Forsaken fighter, had managed to get up onto the pit lord’s shoulder and bury his blade in the creature’s throat.

The room lurched and shook as the enormous demon collapsed, his death throes threatening to bring others with him as the fighters began scrambling to get out of the way.

Redoubling their efforts, the casters threw their spells, desperately keeping to their feet and leaping away to avoid the debris raining down on them from above. Finally, after long moments, the demon shuddered and lay still. Alayne waited, making a swift count of ten, before running to where she’d seen Ger’alin fall. She drew a deep breath of relief when he opened his eyes and rubbed the back of his head. “Stay still, woman,” he laughed shakily.

“There are three of you. If my head wasn’t ringing, I’d be thankful for that.”

“Oh hush,” she whispered worriedly.

“Check on the others,” he said, rubbing his eyes and waiting for the room to stop spinning. “I’ll be fine. I just took a good slam on the back of the head when I hit the wall.”

Alayne didn’t move. “I’m fine, woman,” he moaned.

132

“No, you’re not,” Dar’ja said, startling them both. “But, you will be in a few minutes.” Reaching down to cup the man’s head in her hands, she let the Light flow through her, easing his pain and clearing his head. Ger’alin shook his head, thankful that it no longer rang, and whispered his gratitude. Letting the pair pull him to his feet, he glanced around the room.

Groans and moans wafted through the room as the healers pulled the injured out from under piles of rocks and worked to set broken bones or mend mortal hurts. A few of their number lay still, cloaks covering them. Even more surprising, orcs, their dusky skin proclaiming their Outland origin, sat quietly, some under close guard, some being tended by the priests and shamans under Zerith’s command. Ger’alin nodded to himself, looking for their commander. Seeing the orc who fit the bill, the sin’dorei Blood Knight excused himself and walked over to him, rehearsing what he wanted to say. ~*~*~*~ The orc sat, staring off into space. His eyes were slowly changing color from the red, demonic glow back to the more usual blue. Ger’alin squatted down in front of him, green eyes meeting clearing eyes calmly. “What…what is happening?” the orc grunted, looking confused.

“The demonic haze is lifting from you,” the sin’dorei answered evenly. “Magtheridon is dead.”

“Then you have doomed us all!” the orc said, trying to interject some anger into his words but too overcome with lethargy to do so.

“Why would you think that?”

“How can we serve Lord Illidan, how can we hope to stand against the might of the Burning Legion, without the blood of demons to aid us?”

“There are other avenues you may follow.”

“Lord Illidan will kill us. Weaklings are of no use to the Lord of the BlackTemple!

We must be strong! You have sapped us of our strength! Why? Kael’thas would never…”

“We no longer bend knee to one who would inflict demonic bloodlust on your people.

We have fought to free you from that, to restore you to your places as honorable warriors in the fight against the Legion.”

“Honor?” the orc spat. “You speak of honor against the Legion? What good will our honor do when the demons rip our women and children to shreds? What good is our honor in fighting creatures that have none?”

“Your honor is the most important weapon in the fight against them,” Ger’alin said softly. “It is a pity that you have let yourself be convinced it is of no importance. Come with us and you will see how you can fight against the Legion without sacrificing yourselves and your children into slavery to demon-blood.”

“You make fine words, elf,” the orc sighed after a long pause. “We are your prisoners, it seems,” he said, glancing around.

“You are not our prisoners,” Ger’alin said, rising to his feet and holding his hand out to pull the orc to his own. “You can be our allies.” The orc looked at the sin’dorei in surprise before grinning, taking the man’s hand, and listening to Ger’alin’s words once again. ~*~*~*~ Seeing Ger’alin speaking civilly, even friendly, with the orc commander, Alayne smiled in relief and began looking around for Callie and Jez’ral. Zerith and Dar’ja still moved among the wounded, healing and offering comfort to the friends of those who had been 133

crushed by the demon or by falling debris. Alayne sighed with relief when she saw Callie sitting next to Jez’ral, speaking to the man. Walking over to them, her brow knotted in confusion when she realized that Jez’ral was not responding. His eyes stared at the ceiling, not seeing it. Only the rise and fall of his chest said he still lived. The sense of impending peril she’d felt for days now returned. “Zerith doesn’t know what’s wrong with him,” Callie explained when Alayne looked a question at her.

“Jez’ral? Are you awake?”

The man did not respond.

“Jez’ral Cloudslasher, are you awake?” she demanded, waving her hand in front of his eyes.

The man did not respond.

“Did he hit his head or something? I didn’t see him take any injury after I dragged him out of the fight.”

“No. Zerith just muttered something in Thalassian that sounded like a phrase I’d like to learn before telling me to keep an eye on him while they took care of the wounded.

Ger’alin, are you well?” the Forsaken asked, seeing the fighter walking slowly over towards them. The orc commander returned to his own men and began speaking with them. Callie watched as their blank faces turned incredulous and then grateful. It seemed Ger’alin had managed to find a way with his words.

“Not as well as I was when I thought I might have three wives to celebrate with,” he joked. Alayne glared at him. “Belore, what’s the matter with him?” he asked, pointed to the staring Jez’ral.

“I was hoping you could tell us,” Callie replied. Alayne was still waving her hand in front of Jez’ral’s face, muttering beneath her breath, and reaching over to pinch him. Ger’alin glanced at the Forsaken who shrugged. Squatting down, Ger’alin placed a hand on the man’s forehead.

“Nothing,” he sighed after a moment.

“You mean there’s nothing wrong with him?” Alayne said quickly, moving her hand over her employer’s face. “Jez’ral, this isn’t funny. Mir’el will have your hide for scaring me like this.”

“No, I mean I don’t know what’s wrong but there’s something damned funny going on here. Come on,” he sighed, rising to his feet and pulling his wife to hers. “Let’s get him and the others out of here. The battle is over and I, for one, am thankful to be alive. Alayne, you go on ahead to Shattrath and warn them that our new allies will be joining us,” he said, gesturing to the orcs. Alayne grinned, then sighed, and glanced at Jez’ral worriedly. “I’ll look after him,” Ger’alin promised. “Now, go on. Don’t fall asleep, though,” he winked.

134

Chapter Fifteen: The Mag’har

“A

layne, I think you should come with me,” Callie whispered the next morning as she gently shook the elf woman awake. “Jez’ral’s awake.”

“I’ll be right there,” Alayne yawned as she pulled back the covers and slipped out of the bed, careful not to wake Ger’alin.

“I would have let you sleep, but he’s panicking and it’s really frightening. I don’t know what he’s saying; he’s babbling in Thalassian.”

“I’ll take a nap later today,” Alayne muttered as she padded down the hallway after the Forsaken. “Oh my,” she said as she opened the door to Jez’ral’s room.

“What is that that he keeps saying?”

“Green,” Alayne whispered to Callie. “Jez’ral, what’s green?” she asked, switching to Thalassian.

“Green, green, green, green, green,” the man moaned over and over again, rocking back and forth and chewing on his thumb.

“Jez’ral?” she said softly, sitting on the bed next to him and reaching up to stroke the side of his head. “Jez’ral?”

“Eyes of fire…green…pain…burning, searing in my mind!” he shrieked, his teeth breaking the skin of his hand as he began trembling. “White pain!”

“Get. Ger’alin. Now!” Alayne said to Callie. She reached up and took Jez’ral’s hand from his mouth, holding it gingerly in her own hand. “Jez’ral, calm down.”

“Green! Gigantic green!” he screamed. Alayne recoiled in fright, her eyes widening in horror when Jez’ral stared at her but did not seem to recognize her.

“What’s green? Jez’ral? Calm down, please?” she begged.

“What’s going on here?” Ger’alin asked as he strode into the room. “Get Zerith,” he muttered to Callie over his shoulder.

“Green eyes of fire, burning, burning!”

“What is he yelling about?”

“I have no idea. Jez’ral? Calm down, please. You’re safe now. There are no green things or fire here to burn you. You’re safe. I swear it.” Jez’ral lifted his hands back to his head, shaking and pulling at his long black hair as if he wanted to tear it out. “Jez’ral, calm down. Everything will be well,” Alayne murmured, disentangling his hands from his hair and holding them. The man stared blankly down at the bed, blinking and frowning.

“Where…where am I?” he panted, looking around in confusion. “Who am I? Who are you?”

“We’re friends,” Ger’alin said slowly, motioning for Alayne to stand up and let him sit down. “We’re not going to harm you. We’re going to help you. Now, I need you to just relax,” he continued, lifting his hands and placing them on either side of the warlock’s head.

Letting the Light flow through him as the Aldor instructed, reaching out and directing the energy gently, the way a bank directed a river, he channeled the healing energies into the man. “Do you feel any better?” he asked, standing back up and putting an arm around Alayne’s shoulders.

“Who…are you?”

135

“We’re friends,” Ger’alin replied evenly, reaching over and placing a firm hand over his wife’s mouth. “What is the last thing you recall?”

“Eyes of fire, burning…” Jez’ral shuddered.

“I see. Go back to our room,” he whispered to Alayne, careful not to use her name.

“Zerith and I will need to ask you some questions when we’re finished in here.” Alayne stared at him dumbly but nodded and left, staring worriedly at her former teacher as she exited the room. “Do you know where you are? Does anything here look familiar to you?”

“No…no…who are you? Who am I?” he demanded, turning to put his feet on the ground. He stood and collapsed to his knees, hands splaying to keep him from pitching forward on his face. His eyes widened as his gaze fell on a book shoved half under his bed.

Scrambling for it, he pulled it into his lap, his fingers tracing the author’s name reverently.

“Mir’el,” he whispered, looking up in confusion at the brawny man hovering over him.

“Do you remember who Mir’el is?”

Jez’ral’s brow furrowed as he concentrated. The name was important to him. Was it his name? He shook his head. His name was Jez’ral. Mir’el was a blank to him. An important blank, but a blank nonetheless. “I…don’t remember,” he muttered sadly, feeling a pang in his chest. Ger’alin nodded, saying nothing, and reached down to pull the warlock up to his feet.

Jez’ral’s legs gave out almost immediately, depositing him back on the bed.

“I was informed you needed me?” Zerith asked as he ducked into the room. Ger’alin nodded and held up a hand, signaling the priest to silence. Walking over to him, the Blood Knight pulled him out into the hallway for a quick conference.

“His memory is completely gone. He doesn’t know who he is; he doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t remember who Mir’el is though, from the look on his face when he saw the name, it is at least familiar to him on a visceral level.”

“Is there something in shadow magic that predisposes a person to mental issues?”

Zerith sighed.

“Well, there’s the whole fel corruption thing but I don’t think that’s what we’re looking at here,” Ger’alin said, exhaling. “No sin’dorei has been a warlock long enough for the corruption to really take hold of them. Besides, Alayne’s told me how they plan to hold off the corruption and that they do constantly monitor each other for signs. Most of them would go back to being mages in a heartbeat if they could.”

“What have you told him?”

“Nothing. I heard the same lectures from Ma’iv as you. When dealing with amnesia, give only vital information and try to surround the person with people and things from their past. Well, Alayne is really the only person out here he’d be familiar with. We can’t exactly risk sneaking him back into Silvermoon; who knows what he would say?”

“What is the last thing he remembers?”

“He said ‘eyes of fire, burning.’ I’m guessing he’s referring to Magtheridon.”

“Probably. I’ll give him something to make him sleep. You have Alayne dig through his room and find any books she thinks might contain information on what to do in cases of memories being erased after or because of attempts to enslave demons.”

“I’ll do that,” Ger’alin agreed, striding off in the opposite direction. Zerith stared at the door to Jez’ral’s room, wondering if they would ever manage to make it through a battle without someone getting themselves hurt. ~*~*~*~ “How are you feeling?” Alayne asked later that afternoon when Jez’ral began to wake up again. She and Callie were sitting in his room, both of them poring over the many books on demonic control the man had stashed away.

136

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “Hungry, I think.”

“Callie, go get some lunch. We could all use something to munch on,” Alayne suggested.

“Light of heaven, what’s wrong with you?” Jez’ral demanded when he saw Callie.

“Is it contagious?”

“No,” Callie said slowly. “Poison. Don’t worry, I’m fine and you can’t catch it. I’ll be right back,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. The man really had forgotten everything if the sight of a Forsaken had him turning that pale.

“What are you doing? Do you live here, too?” Jez’ral asked.

“Just reading some of your books,” Alayne answered. “We’re trying to figure out what happened to you so we can help you.”

“What did happen? Who are you?”

“I’m afraid that I can’t say anything,” Alayne sighed. “It’s best if you remember on your own instead of us telling you things. See if you can remember who I am.”

Jez’ral stared at her, his forehead wrinkling as he concentrated. “You’re…I know you.

I swear I do. I just can’t recall your name, young lady.” Alayne sighed and nodded, turning her gaze back to the book on her lap. “What are you reading?”

“A treatise on demonic control,” she muttered absently. “A very thorough one, at that.”

“Demonic control? Who would want to control demons? Those things should be left in the Nether to rot.”

“We control them. They’re tools. Disgusting, vile, filthy tools but useful nonetheless,” Alayne continued, never taking her focus from the pages.

“We control demons?”

“Yes.” “We do, don’t we?” he said, feeling something familiar about what she was saying.

He felt as if he could recall controlling demons himself. It was vague and fuzzy and the more he tried to remember it, the less clear the picture grew.

“Indeed.”

“Only, I’m not very good at it, am I? I do better with Nether channeling.”

“Wait…what?” Alayne gaped. “Do you remember that?”

“Sort of,” he sighed, putting a hand on his forehead. “I wish that sickly woman would hurry up with the food. I feel faint.”

“Then lay back down.” Jez’ral nodded and did as she suggested. “Could you please quit smacking your lips? She’ll be back with lunch in a few minutes, I promise,” Alayne said flatly.

“I can’t help it. I’ve got this odd taste in my mouth and my tongue has gone dry as wool. It’s also getting rather hot in here,” he sighed, throwing back the covers and sitting back up. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and his skin had turned doughy-white. He lifted his hands to wipe the stinging sweat from his eyes and blanched. His hands and arms were trembling. “Young woman, I think there’s something wrong with me.” Alayne looked up from her reading and gasped. Slamming the book shut, she stood up and hurried over to Jez’ral, cupping his chin in her hand and looking into his eyes. They were beginning to glaze over and his trembling was growing worse.

“Withdrawal,” she groaned. “We would have to be the worst of the lot. Not even three days. Jez’ral, listen to me very carefully. Close your eyes and let your mind drift.” The man did as directed. “Reach out to the nearest point of arcane energy you can sense. It will feel warm and vibrant.”

“Yes, I sense something like that,” he whispered.

137

“Now, reach out and pull it to you. Grasp it and pull it to you. Ouch!” she yipped as the man relaxed, his color turning more normal. “I guess I should have specified that you not wrest it from me or anyone else you wouldn’t want to be angry with you,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she lied. “Ah, here’s lunch,” Alayne grinned, seeing Callie open the door with her foot as she balanced plates of food on her hands and arms. “Get him to eat,” she whispered to the Forsaken. “I need to go lay down again.”

“But you just woke up a few hours ago,” Callie protested. “You’re not wearing yourself out taking care of him, are you? Ger’alin and Zerith both said that…”

“No, it’s not that. I just feel like someone’s removed my skin whole and it’s a rather uncomfortable sensation. I’ll explain later,” Alayne sighed, seeing the confused look on the woman’s face. “It’s a sin’dorei thing.”

“I see,” Callie grinned. “Here, take your plate, at least. Your husband will have my hide if you skip meals.”

“Thanks,” the sin’dorei whispered. “I’ll just take this back with me to finish reading it.”

“No!” Jez’ral shouted, seeing the book she was carrying off. “Leave me that!”

“But I need to…”

“Just leave it here! You can take any book but that one.”

“Jez’ral, I need to finish reading so I can…”

“Just leave it here!” he snarled angrily, his eyes blazing.

“Right, I’ll just leave it here,” she said quickly, handing it to Callie and hurrying out of the room. “I wonder what set him off like that about that book. It’s just one of Mir’el’s old texts about demonic properties.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne rubbed her eyes as the words began to blur again. Next to her, she could hear Ger’alin sigh in frustration. “Just one more chapter,” she promised with half a mind. “Just let me finish this one and I’ll put the candle out.”

“You said that five chapters ago,” he muttered, turning back to face her. “I wonder if that bit about ‘forsaking all others’ includes books,” he teased. Alayne reached over and patted him absently, rubbing her eyes and blinking to clear her vision.

“I had to wait until he fell asleep again to sneak this one out of his room,” she sighed.

“As it was, I was afraid I would wake him. He was holding the thing against his chest the way a toddler would hold a doll. Callie says that this book is the only thing he remembers. No wonder he’s clinging to it so.”

“What book is that?”

“Hm?” “Which book is it?”

“Oh, it’s one of Mir’el’s early texts on demonic properties and summoning controls.”

“Ah,” Ger’alin grinned, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up to read over her shoulder. “Stop turning the pages so quickly,” he teased, hoping to elicit at least a grin from her. “Alayne, I was just kidding. I’ll leave you alone about your reading, I promise,” he whispered, seeing her face harden and her eyes begin to spark and burn in anger.

“Sweetheart, I was just teasing you…where are you going? Whatever it was, I’m sorry!” he shouted after her retreating form. “Pa never told me the parts about having to chase your wife down when you open your mouth and shove your whole leg in it,” he groaned, climbing out of the bed and grabbing one of the robes tossed over the chair. Tying it on, he hurried out in

138

the hall, glancing up and down the dark corridor for sign of Alayne. His ears twitched as he heard her voice from deeper down the hall.

“She sounds mad,” Callie giggled from outside of Jez’ral’s room.

“That she does,” Ger’alin agreed, stopping next to the Forsaken.

“You need to teach me what those phrases mean. They sound like what you used to use whenever you got really ticked off.”

“I might have to wash her mouth out,” he muttered flatly. “She’s worse than I am.

More creative, too.”

“What is going on here?” Zerith demanded, belting the sash of his robe around his waist. Dar’ja followed behind him, looking amused and bewildered at the same time. “What did you do to my sister? Why are you grinning like that?”

“Oh, wow, she’s good,” Dar’ja laughed. “Sailors and stable hands would stand in awe at her facility with profanity.”

“Ssh,” Ger’alin waved them to silence. “Yes!” he hooted, pumping his arm in triumph.

“What? What is she so angry about?” Zerith asked, tapping his foot impatiently. “A woman storming out of her room at this hour and yelling like that generally means her husband did something wrong. What did you do and why are you smiling about it?”

“I’m smiling because it’s not me she’s angry at,” Ger’alin explained. “Listen.” Zerith leaned closer to the door, listening intently. After a few minutes he nodded.

“You’re off the hook. I wonder what she’s so mad at him for?” the priest sighed, jerking his thumb at the door. “We’d better get in there before she kills him.”

“What’s she saying?” Callie asked. “I want to learn those phrases!”

“The cleaned-up version is that she’s calling Jez’ral a fool,” Dar’ja explained. “Why she’s saying that is beyond me,” the woman continued as Zerith and Ger’alin pushed open the door. Alayne was sitting on Jez’ral’s bed, the man’s shoulders in her hands as she lifted him and slammed his head against the pillow, pausing only to slap him across the face. She screamed at him the entire time, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jez’ral was staring at her in fear, completely baffled by her actions. The smile vanished from Ger’alin’s face the moment he saw how upset Alayne was. Crossing the room with nearly leaping strides, he pulled the woman away from Jez’ral and held her against his chest. Zerith spared them a glance before walking over to check on Jez’ral.

“She’s trying to kill me,” the warlock said, sounding surprised. “She says I’m a bast…,” “Yes, we heard,” Zerith interrupted. “Are you well?”

“A little dizzy and my face hurts,” he muttered, rubbing his jaws. “I’m sorry if I did something to upset her. She kept calling me a fool and asking me why I took that risk.”

“I know. We heard. You go on back to sleep, now. She’ll be in here in the morning to apologize to you for this whole thing, no doubt. Ger’alin?” the priest said, quirking his eyebrow at the pair. Alayne was leaning against the Blood Knight, weeping and sobbing brokenly. Ger’alin nodded and reached down, picking her up and carrying her out of the room. Dar’ja, Callie, and Zerith followed him, closing the door to the room behind them while Ger’alin sat Alayne down and tried to calm her. “What was that all about, Alayne?”

Zerith asked gently, leaning against the wall.

“That fool knew, he had to have known, and he still tried it!” she sobbed, knuckling tears from her eyes.

“He knew what and still did what?” Zerith asked, sounding a little exasperated.

“Here,” Alayne muttered, reaching for the book she’d been reading earlier. Flipping through the pages, she found the passage that had sparked her ire and lifted the book up.

Zerith walked over and took it, reading the paragraph she pointed to.

139

“Could you translate that from warlock into non-warlock?” he asked.

“Basically, it says that there is a risk in attempting to control demons who are wandering free on this plane. Normally, when a warlock forces a demon out of the Nether, he enslaves its will at the same time with the summoning spell. That’s why summoning requires a piece of a pre-existing soul. I’ve always trapped the souls of freely wandering demons. If you have to do it, you might as well do it to something that deserves it,” she explained. “At any rate, if a warlock tries to take control of a free demon, there’s a risk that the demon could gain control of the warlock or, in the struggle for control, either demon or warlock could have their mind obliterated. I always wondered why Mir’el told us never to try to enslave a free demon unless we were much more powerful than it. Now I know.”

“But you and Jez’ral combined your powers to enslave that demon in the Pools of Aggonar and you both came out fine,” Ger’alin whispered.

“Yes, we did because that demon was, in the grander scheme of things, fairly lowranking. I mean, it was more powerful than any I can force out of the Nether or could control on my own. Same for Jez’ral; that’s why we had to join our wills. Even then, one good whack and we lost control of it. Magtheridon was a pit lord. A very, very powerful demon.

Enslaving his will, even the attempt to, was foolish and Jez’ral must have known that! I mean, come on, he and Mir’el have been together since before any of us were born. Surely that came up in a conversation at least once!”

“I see,” Zerith sighed. “So, now we know what’s wrong with him and why. Does anything special happen to a person’s will when a demon destroys it?”

“No,” Alayne answered. “Warlocks don’t become demons. I doubt there’s any little shard of Jez’ral floating around in the Nether that could cure him. Demons don’t work that way; they don’t need to capture our souls to enslave us. There are plenty of fools willing to do their bidding voluntarily on this plane to make trying to enslave the rest of us a pointless waste of energy,” she sighed. The sin’dorei and Forsaken stood or sat in glum silence for several minutes as they digested what Alayne had just revealed.

“Then we’ll just have to wait and see if his memories come back on their own,” Dar’ja said, breaking the quiet. “Has there been any sign of that happening so far?” Alayne shook her head but Ger’alin nodded. “Which is it? Yes or no?”

“Well, the book was familiar to him,” Alayne volunteered.

“Oh, bother the book,” Ger’alin grinned. “The author’s name was familiar to him. He didn’t recall exactly who Mir’el was but putting his reaction to your trying to take that book earlier together with the way he was practically caressing the engraved name this morning, I think it’s a good sign.” Alayne stared up at him, a slow smile spreading across her face.

Zerith turned and began hustling Dar’ja and Callie out of the room, closing the door behind them. Laughing, he ran a hand over his face.

“How he can make her go from sad to not-sad so quickly must be a gift from the Light,” he grinned.

“I still want to learn those phrases,” Callie muttered. “None of you will teach me the interesting Thalassian words.”

“Is everything all right?” Tau’re whispered as he and Davril crept down the hallway.

“We heard shouting a few minutes ago.”

“Everything’s fine,” Zerith replied, waving the tauren off. “Is everyone awake?”

“Yes,” the Forsaken muttered. “At least, those who normally sleep are now awake,” he amended, sharing a wink with Callie.

“Oh, that’s good,” Zerith said, sounding relieved.

“Good?” Dar’ja muttered, creases appearing in her forehead. “Why would everyone being awake be good?”

140

“Because that means that we’re not going to wake them up,” he said lightly. “Come on, we can’t let those two beat our record, can we?” Dar’ja shook her head, her eyes filled with laughter as she followed him back to their room.

“But I wanted to learn those phrases…” Callie sighed. “Okay, fine. Revenge Plan Number Fifty-Six: I will listen in to what they say now and will ask for a translation tomorrow over breakfast. At the top of my voice. Twenty gold I can make Ger’alin squirt tea out of his nose,” she said, staring a challenge at Tau’re.

“You’re on,” the tauren grinned, striding back to his room as the rogue settled down in the hallway and began listening, muttering to herself about the living and their strange habits all the while. ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and tried to look at things from the orcs’ point of view. He could understand – even sympathize – with their own unwillingness to lead themselves into battle against Illidan. Most of their clan was in Shadowmoon Valley, holing up within Dragonmaw Fortress or living out on the Netherwing Ledge. The few dozen orcs who had survived the fight against Magtheridon were willing to join with the Disorder of Azeroth but were uncertain if they themselves could be trusted. Still, they both wanted to fight and wanted one of their own to lead them…though not one of their tainted clan.

“The chieftain of the Mag’har should lead us,” the orc speaking for the Dragonmaw said. “Failing that, then the Warchief himself would be worthy. We are most unworthy. We need a strong leader to show us the way back to our ancestral path. Our own weakness brought us to this fate where we have drunk demon’s blood. We cannot be trusted to lead ourselves to water, let alone in battle.”

“We have sent envoys to the Mag’har to see if they will accept you under their leadership,” Zerith replied. “However, even if they do not, you can redeem yourselves and reclaim your ancestral honor on your own feet. Fight alongside us against the monster who enslaved you and holds your people hostage and…”

“The ancestors have turned from us for our blasphemy of their sacred soil.”

“They will turn back to you if you find the strength to fight for what is right and just,” Ger’alin said, displaying a hint of impatient temper. No matter how many times they had this discussion, the Dragonmaw refused to let go of their self-doubt. That stubborn refusal, coupled with Hellscream’s reluctance, might spell the end of their plans to ensure the freedom of the orcs in Outland. And, if they were unable to ensure that, then moving against their own treacherous prince was nearly impossible.

“Surely you can see…” Zerith started, trying to argue the same point from yet another angle.

“Our messenger has returned,” Ger’alin whispered, bending down to speak in Zerith’s ear. He’d been watching out the window of the Scryer’s inn and had seen Alayne walk up the path. She’d dismissed her own fel steed at the elevator, doing her best to assuage the orc’s fears of further contamination. “Let us go see what she has learned.”

Bowing politely to the Dragonmaw, the two men left the room. Each prayed that Alayne would be the bearer of better tidings. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin growled and punched his fist into the side of the building. Zerith winced, wondering how many bones the paladin had just pulverized. “That is not an acceptable

141

answer!” He shouted, shaking his swelling hand. “I don’t care if the omens are favorable or the spirits are happy or the wind is blowing out of the east!”

The orc shrugged uncomfortably. “That is the only answer he’ll give.”

“Thank you,” Zerith said calmly. “Please tell Garrosh that we would like to speak with him in person.” The orc nodded and walked off, leaving the two sin’dorei in the shade of the building. “There’s nothing for it but to go to Nagrand and try to convince him ourselves.”

“Does he sound like someone who can be convinced?” Ger’alin groaned.

“He’s bound to be more reasonable in person.”

“He sounds like a whiny child. ‘Oh, I can’t meet with the leaders of the Dragonmaw because I saw a ghost and because my dad drank demon blood too.’ Bah! The sins of the father do not pass to the son. If they did, I’d be in much more trouble than I am. Long story,” he grinned ruefully, blowing on his knuckles.

“I want to hear it one day,” Zerith laughed. “Here, let me see your hand.” Ger’alin held his hand out to the priest. “Try not to hit stone walls anymore,” he murmured as he healed the broken bones.

“I don’t make a practice of doing that.”

“I know, I know. Still, you can’t let things like this get to you.”

“I won’t,” Ger’alin sighed. “Every day, the Aldor Vindicators tell me that I must learn patience. It’s just hard to be patient when it seems like everything is coming to a head.”

“Then pray for it.”

“That’s what Alayne says.”

“Listen to her. She occasionally has a good idea,” Zerith smiled. “She married you, after all.” Ger’alin grinned and shook his head. “Oh, so that wasn’t a good idea?”

“Stop it,” he blushed. “So, we’re going to Nagrand. I hope she won’t want to drag Jez’ral with us.”

“She might not want to go,” Zerith pointed out.

“Good point,” he sighed. “She is still chewing her nails with worry about Jez’ral.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?”

“No. She’s my wife. I’ll talk to her about going over to Nagrand again. Not that she had much luck last time.”

“Talk to who about going to Nagrand?” Alayne asked, walking up to the pair.

“You, actually,” Ger’alin said quickly. “We need to make yet another trip to Nagrand and talk some sense into Garrosh Hellscream. You’ve been wearing yourself out taking care of Jez’ral while you’re here, so I thought it might be time for me to toss you over my shoulder and carry you away kicking and screaming.”

“You wouldn’t have to do that,” she said wryly. “He’s up and about now, so I don’t have to keep an eye on him all the time. Still, I don’t want to leave him here alone right now.”

“We’ll leave Callie to watch him.”

“You should really take her with you. She’s going stir crazy being left behind all the time,” Alayne pointed out. Ger’alin sighed and nodded, conceding her point.

“Don’t even think about it,” Zerith said flatly. “Dar’ja doesn’t like Jez’ral that much anyway.”

“Maybe I should stay here,” Ger’alin sighed.

“No, you should go,” Alayne replied, patting him on the cheek. “It’s not like it’s that far. You’ll probably only be gone a few hours. Besides, I doubt I’d be able to make Garrosh see reason. He’s a trifle annoyed with me though he won’t do anything about it,” she sighed.

“Besides, Grandmother mentioned that she’d like to see you again, Ger’alin.”

“Grandmother?” Zerith asked, quirking an eyebrow.

142

“Everyone calls her Grandmother,” Alayne muttered. “Her real name is Geyah but she said to call her ‘Grandmother.’ She likes my talbuk recipe. That made Garrosh less annoyed with me.”

“Which, of course, is why you should come with us,” Ger’alin grinned. “You can whip up one of your genuine gourmet dishes and kill two birds with one stone.”

“But then who would stay and watch Jez’ral? Ger’alin, I don’t like the idea of us being apart either, but there’s nothing to do about it but accept it and try to make it as short a time as possible. I’ll stew some up this evening, though, for you to take to her. Maybe a little bribery will help our cause and get you back here the quicker,” she grinned. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin waved down at Alayne as the four made their way through the Aldor’s tier.

He sighed and stretched in his saddle, taking a moment to rein Lucky in. The horse was definitely eager to be out of the stables after several days of inactivity. He clenched his jaw when he heard the other three giggle behind him. Perhaps staying up all night had not been the wisest idea. Alayne had told him several times that he should get some sleep if he was going to be anything approaching diplomatic with the depressed chieftain of the Mag’har.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he resolved to listen to her more often in the future. He gave a start when Zerith came abreast of him and patted him on the shoulder in commiseration. “Just ignore us,” the priest said. “I remember how bad Dar’ja and I were the first few months we were married. Still, what was all the banging?”

“My armor,” Ger’alin replied curtly. “No, I’m not telling you about it.”

“She’s my sister. I really don’t want to know. At any rate, I’ll take care of the conversation. You just stand back and look impressive. Like you were supposed to for the centaurs after you’d finished bragging to them about our battle prowess.”

“I’ll do that,” Ger’alin nodded. “Now, you might want to get back there to Dar’ja.

We’re about to enter Nagrand.”

“Why would…”

“Just trust me. It’s too bad you’re not riding double.” Ger’alin stifled a laugh a moment later when he heard Dar’ja gasp and begin whispering to Zerith as they entered Nagrand. She was having the exact same reaction Alayne had when he brought her out here.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed a bit. It was nice to be in an area where the air was clear and the sun shone down through an unfiltered sky. Only a few bands of Nether hung in the atmosphere, attesting that they were in Outland. For the rest, Ger’alin could see why Kael had spread rumors of Outland being a promised land. Nagrand most certainly fit the description.

“It’s really pretty,” Callie muttered politely. “Smells nice, too.”

“It is,” Ger’alin agreed, glancing back over his shoulder and looking forward quickly, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing at the way Dar’ja was staring at the landscape.

“Will we get to see the house?” the Forsaken asked.

“I can take us by there after we finish up in Garadar. I don’t think it’ll be finished, though. They had just started the foundation after Alayne and I left.”

“It will be fun to live out here. I’ve seen at least five bushes of itchweed so far.”

“I’m going to have to keep a constant supply of that treatment around, aren’t I?” “You know me.”

“Yes, I do.”

“So, how’s married life?”

“It’s…oh, it amuses the hell out of you, I know,” he grinned. “Why else would you make me snort tea out of my nostrils?” The Forsaken gave a guilty grin.

143

“I had twenty gold riding on that. Besides, I was ticked off that no one would tell me what, exactly, she was saying.”

“Next time, cut me in on the deal and I’ll teach you all of the Thalassian profanity you could ever want to know. Light,for ten gold, I’ll squirt tea out of my nose on command.”

“Sure thing. I didn’t embarrass Alayne too much, did I?” “She’s getting used to it, actually. Light, since we married, it’s been like Desolace only about a hundred times worse. She has mentioned that the next person to ask after the state of her reproductive system is going to have to deal with a very pissed off demon and a very irate warlock. Not to mention, I think she’ll pull Dar’ja in to it so they’ll have to deal with a very upset demon and warlock who have a healer in their back pocket. Actually, when I put it that way, I’m looking forward to seeing it. Callie, when we get back to Shattrath…”

“No. Besides, I think it’s time we put our game faces on,” she sighed. “It looks like we’re here.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith gritted his teeth and prayed for patience. He was thankful that Ger’alin was too tired to grow truly irritated. Glancing back, he sighed in relief to see that the Blood Knight was still awake. Since the man was so silent, the priest was afraid he’d fallen asleep standing up.

“Chieftain, perhaps you are misreading the signs,” Dar’ja tried again. The orc waved her to silence. “Please, hear us out,” she sighed.

“I will not be the second Hellscream to damn the orcs,” the chieftain sighed. “Leave me in peace.”

“Chieftain, this is your chance to…” Zerith sighed.

“I said no! Now that the time approaches when I might be forced to take command, the very spirits of our ancestors have risen up and turned against me! No! I will do no further damage to my people!”

The priest glanced back at the Blood Knight and rogue standing near the doorway.

Callie looked horrified. Ger’alin just looked a trifle frustrated. Both shrugged at the priest as if to say they had no idea how to convince the chieftain to change his mind. Bowing politely, Zerith motioned for Dar’ja to follow him out. Once outside, he let out the breath he had been holding and groaned. “Damned lethargy!”

“That’s not lethargy,” Ger’alin muttered. “That’s stubbornness.”

“Well, what are we going to do about it? The Dragonmaw will not follow us directly.

They made that clear as good glass. They want one of their own to lead them into battle but they feel as if none of their clan is qualified…”

“Yes, I know,” Ger’alin sighed. “I spent a considerable amount of time speaking with them in Shattrath. They still feel the guilt of having willingly partaken of demon blood and following Illidan. The only other chieftain they might follow is Thrall and he’s got his hands full with the Horde back home. I doubt very seriously he’d like it if we just jaunted back there and said ‘By the way, Warchief, I know you’re busy and all, but we’d like you to drop everything and come to Outland and lead a tribe of renegade orcs whom we freed from demonic bloodlust into battle against both Illidan and Kael’thas. Oh, and by the way, you’re looking very green today. Please put down the Doomhammer.’”

Zerith glared at Ger’alin. The Blood Knight met his gaze evenly. “Being married to Alayne has certainly heightened your sense of sarcasm,” Zerith muttered. “But, you’re right.

We can hardly go and ask Thrall to drop everything and come out here. There has got to be some way to convince Garrosh to stand up and take his rightful place as a leader.”

144

“Excuse me,” an orc woman said softly from behind the priest, making Zerith start in fright. “Has Garrosh changed his mind?”

“He has not, my lady Drakia,” Ger’alin said politely. “How is Grandmother?”

“Come and see for yourself,” the woman said, her voice barely louder than the gentle breeze. “She has asked for you and for your wife.” Ger’alin gestured for the others to follow him as he strode up the path, adjusting his steps to keep behind Drakia. “Where is your wife?”

“She had to remain in Shattrath and look after a friend who has fallen ill,” Ger’alin replied. “However, she did send some of that talbuk stew that Grandmother enjoyed so much the last time we were here. It will need to be warmed up, though.” Stopping to pull a tightlysealed pot from his horse’s saddlebags, Ger’alin led the others into the largest structure in the orcish village. Seated near the hearth in the center of the building was an ancient orc matron, warming her hands over the glowing coals. She turned when Ger’alin entered and smiled at him. Patting the rug in front of her, she motioned for him and the others to sit down. Ger’alin squatted down easily in front of her, reaching over and setting the pot near the hearth. “Good day, Grandmother,” he said warmly.

“Good day, young warrior,” she smiled fondly. “Introduce me to your friends.”

Ger’alin quickly made the introductions, wincing when he had to explain Callie’s condition.

He feared that the orcish matron might take offense to something as un-natural as the Plague of Undeath that had afflicted his friend. His fears were groundless as she merely smiled compassionately at the undead. “I hear you have come to speak with Garrosh about leading the Dragonmaw and Mag’har into battle.”

“We did, madam,” Zerith answered politely.

“Please, call me ‘grandmother.’ Everyone else does,” she laughed, a twinkle in her ancient eyes. “I’m probably old enough to be your grandmother.” Zerith bit his tongue, wishing he knew how long orcs lived and deciding to say nothing. If this elder wanted him to call her ‘grandmother,’ he’d call her ‘grandmother’ even if she were barely old enough to be his mother. “How did it go with Garrosh?”

“Not well,” Dar’ja said curtly. The old woman nodded slowly, as if she had expected that answer.

“Garrosh binds himself tightly with the chains of guilt and shame over the sins of his ancestors,” the matron explained. “As if that were not enough to test him, the spirits have grown restless of late. He believes it is because he is unworthy to lead the Mag’har and that the spirits will abandon the clan if he takes control. He believes that it is only because of me that they remain with us at all; that it is only because of me that he has resisted the bloodlust.

I am an old, old woman,” she sighed. “The time when I must walk the world of spirits is fast approaching. Garrosh has lost his heart; if he does not find it by winter, the Mag’har will not survive to see another spring.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Callie asked. “Maybe if we try hitting him over the head?”

“No,” the matron chuckled. “His skull is too thick to crack. He won’t listen to me; he hasn’t listened to you. We must ask Mother Kashur for help.”

“Well, where is she?” Ger’alin asked. “We’ll go straight to her. Maybe she can talk some sense into Garrosh.”

The orcish crone threw back her head, laughing until tears trickled down the wrinkles in her face. Ger’alin looked chagrinned, wondering what he had said that was so humorous.

“Young elf, Mother Kashur walks the next world now. Do not despair,” she murmured kindly, seeing his face fall. “I am too old to attempt the spirit journey; my soul is too ready to leave this life behind and journey on. However, you are young and strong. Perhaps you can succeed where I would fail.”

145

“How would I journey into the afterlife without dying?” Ger’alin muttered sullenly.

“If I die, Alayne’s going to kill me.”

“Do your people know so little of the spirits?” she asked, sounding surprised. All four shrugged uncomfortably. “There is a potion which you can drink; it will allow your soul to pass beyond without dying. Our shamans used it to consult with the elder spirits in days long past. Now, only I and my successors know the means of brewing this potion. I will give it to you if you will promise to uncover the reason for the spirits’ restlessness. With that information, perhaps Garrosh will find his heart again.”

“I will,” Ger’alin answered immediately. Zerith began grinding his teeth, wondering just how he was going to explain this one to Alayne. Next to him, he could hear Dar’ja begin praying fervently in Thalassian that Ger’alin would either survive or come to his senses before he downed whatever brew the orc crone had in mind. Callie simply began an intense study of the ground.

“Then come with me,” she said, stretching out a hand for the Blood Knight to help her to her feet. “Your friends may come as well.” ~*~*~*~ “Ger’alin, please take a moment to reconsider this,” Zerith pleaded as the other man reached up to unfasten the straps holding his armor in place. “Alayne will have a fit if I let you do this. There has got to be another way.”

“No. Grandmother Geyah is right. If Garrosh won’t listen to her, and he won’t listen to us, then the only thing left to do is try to find out what’s causing the problems that are bothering him and try to fix them so he’ll be the person he was born to be.”

“But drinking some brew that will do Light-knows-what? Some strange shamanistic ritual drink? Do you have any idea what is in those things?”

“No and neither do you. I doubt it’s poisonous. If the orcs drink it and survive, then I’ll be fine. Quit worrying so much. I know that I can be impetuous, but there’s really no other way. Unless, of course, one of you wants to do this.” The other three shook their heads, having no desire to imbibe some strange, mind-altering, potentially deadly drink and go on some strange vision quest in the land of the dead. “Catch the back-plate would you, Callie?

This is much more fun when Alayne does it,” he muttered, making Callie laugh. Turning around and taking the last bit of armor from the Forsaken, he stowed it away carefully. Then, straightening his long undershirt, he sat down on the pallet and waited.

“Ger’alin, please,” Zerith started again, cut off by the door opening. The ancient orc woman walked carefully across the room, a steaming mug in her hands. Handing it to the seated sin’dorei, she watched as he drank it down and handed the mug back to her. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth and scraped his tongue against his teeth, wishing he had something at hand to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth. Several moments passed before he began to feel the effects of the potion. “Ger’alin?” Zerith whispered, seeing the man blanch and begin to sweat. “Ger’alin?” he repeated, waving his hand in front of the paladin’s glazed eyes. The orc matron nodded to herself and, kneeling down, pushed the man onto his back and covered him with a quilt. “What is happening to him?” the priest demanded.

“He is passing beyond,” she answered gently. “He is going to where he can find the answers to how to make Garrosh assume his rightful place in this life.”

“Grandmother, I don’t mean to be rude, but is this safe? I know you reverence the spirits and nature, but…”

“It is. For those who are strong, at least,” she added. “And he is one such. Do not fret, young elf. He will return to us with the answers we need. He has strong ties to hold him; to keep him from wandering in the grey realms.”

146

“What do you mean?”

“You three, for one,” she muttered, walking over to a brazier and dropping some dried plant onto the fire. The scented smoke stung the eyes of the four who were awake. “His wife, for another. Seeing the two of them together put me in mind of seeing my own son and his wife before they ventured through the Dark Portal. He will return. For now, all we can do is wait while he makes this journey.”

“But why him?” Zerith pressed. “Why not one of the orcs?”

“Do you think I haven’t tried to convince one to do this? They all fear to incur the wrath of the ancestors. Too many are like Garrosh; convinced that they are unworthy or weak. Others believe that redemption for the sins of the past can only be found through death in glory. Very few among my people understand, like this one,” she said, pointing to Ger’alin, “that redemption comes freely. That there is no need to undertake a perilous journey to prove oneself worthy of it. Ger’alin knows redemption is a gift. By doing this, by getting to the bottom of the real cause for the spirits’ agitation, Ger’alin will rise in esteem so high that Garrosh may finally believe he can be redeemed just by this young one telling him he is.”

“I see,” Zerith exhaled slowly. “Then, we will wait patiently for him to return.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin stared groggily at the scene before him. He rubbed his eyes, wondering where all of the color had gone. Grey light trickled out from everywhere and the landscape looked as if some power had removed life, leaving only shadow and light behind. “Where am I?” he wondered. “Excuse me!” he said, spying a figure in the distance. “Excuse me!” he called out after it again, running to try to catch up to it. The figure faded into mist, leaving him alone in the colorless landscape once again. “I’m supposed to find Mother Kashur,” he muttered to himself. “Oh, Light, what was that?” he cried out, feeling himself being moved.

The land blurred around him, twisting and speeding away as he felt himself being pulled towards the south. “Oh no,” he groaned, feeling the ground lurch away from him as he began to hover just above the tree-line. “What is this place?”

“It is the realm between,” a woman’s amused voice answered. “You are not who I expected. Who are you? What are you?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Ger’alin growled, twisting around and looking for the source of the voice. Hearing nothing, he sighed and replied, “I am called Ger’alin. I am a sin’dorei – blood elf. I have come here to speak with Mother Kashur.”

“And why would a blood elf,” the voice said, stumbling awkwardly over the unfamiliar terms, “travel here, to the sacred realm of the orc ancestors?”

“Because I must know what agitates the spirits of the Mag’har tribe. I must learn this in order to help Garrosh Hellscream assume his rightful place in this world. Could you help me find Mother Kashur, spirit?”

“You have found her. Tell me, what troubles the young Garrosh?”

“He believes that the spirits’ agitation is because his time to lead draws near. He thinks that his line is cursed with the sins of his father, Grom Hellscream. I know, I know, it’s ridiculous,” Ger’alin sighed, feeling silly speaking to someone he couldn’t even see. “But he believes it. If you know why the spirits are upset, perhaps we can figure out how to help so that Garrosh will assume leadership of the Mag’har. Oh no, not again,” he moaned. “Now I see why Alayne hates heights.” Higher and higher into the air he soared until he floated above a white, shining mountain. “What is this place?” he wondered aloud.

“Oshu’gun,” Mother Kashur answered. “The diamond mountain. It was once sacred to my people.It was there that the clans would gather every year to celebrate the springtime festival. It was there that our shaman communed with the honored ancestors. It was the center 147

of our culture - until the shadows overtook us. When the clans became a horde, the spirits of Oshu'gun fell silent. The ancestors turned their backs on us. Yet, as you know, something now draws them from their rest. Venture to Oshu'gun and discover what could trouble the spirits so. Perhaps there you will learn the answers that will help you put Garrosh back on his proper path.”

Ger’alin nodded and swallowed hard as the ground rushed up to meet him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wondered if he could feel pain on this plane. After several moments of waiting in the darkness behind his eyelids, he opened one eye experimentally. Before him, the white mountain loomed. Looking down, he saw that his feet hovered mere inches above the ground. Grinning in relief, he told himself to step down and nearly collapsed when solid ground met his foot. Adopting a serious mien, he strode down the washed-out landscape and into the white mountain. He felt himself being pulled away, as if some gigantic maw were drawing him in. The closer he came to the washed-out white mountain, the stronger the tug.

Within moments, it was all he could do to place one foot in front of the other and stay upright instead of being sucked into whatever lay beyond the unprepossessing entrance that stood darkly in front of him.

His shade touched the shadow of the mountain and he lost his footing. Clawing at the ethereal ground, he tried to slow his descent into the cavern. “Mother Kashur?” he called out in panic. “Alayne!” he screamed as he felt himself being ripped away… ~*~*~*~ “You’re awake!” Zerith cheered, laughing in relief. “Did you speak with Mother Kashur? Did she tell you what we need to know to help Garrosh?”

“Not exactly,” Ger’alin muttered, covering his eyes with one hand. “I mean, I did speak with her and she did say that the cause of the spirits’ distress is in Oshu’gun.”

“Oshu’gun?” Geyah said in surprise. “The sacred mountain?”

“Yes, that one,” Ger’alin replied. “I was just going to step in there and see if I could get to the bottom of this and suddenly, I was back here.”

“It is well that you returned before you could enter the sacred mountain,” Geyah sighed, putting a hand over her chest and catching her breath. “Had you walked in there in the spirit realm, you would have been lost to us. Oshu’gun is where the spirits of our ancestors travel when their time in this life is over. It is the gateway to the eternal realm.”

“Oh,” Ger’alin sighed. “I guess maybe I should have asked a few more questions before blundering off. Well, there’s nothing for it but to try to find a way into Oshu’gun.”

“But if we would all die…” Dar’ja started.

“Do your people truly know so little of the spirits?” Geyah muttered, her voice a mixture of irritation and shock. “Had he entered the sacred mountain in the spirit realm, his spirit would have been taken to the eternal realm. However, Oshu’gun may be safely entered in this realm. It lies far to the south, near the edge of the world.”

“So, all we have to do is go down there, walk inside, and see what’s going on?” Callie summarized, sounding disappointed. “That doesn’t sound like much.”

“Perhaps I misspoke when I said it may be safely entered. There are strange creatures that have taken over the outside of the sacred mountain, profaning it. In addition, the oncepeaceful elekks and clefthoofs who graze the plains near Oshu’gun have become savage, feral. Should you manage to work your way past those dangers, whatever lies inside Oshu’gun may prove fatal. My people never penetrated deeply into the sacred mountain,” she explained. “We left the spirits in peace. But, if the spirits are agitated because of something wrong inside the gateway to the eternal…then perhaps something dangerous awaits you inside the sacred mountain,” she concluded.

148

Ger’alin sighed. “Regardless, we must be on our way. The sooner we can uncover what is wrong inside the sacred mountain, the sooner we can convince Garrosh that whatever-it-is is not his fault.”

“You should stay…” the crone began to say as Ger’alin pulled himself up. The elf’s face drained of color and she had to move quickly to have the nightjar in place while his stomach emptied itself. “You should rest,” she said gently, slightly amused. “Walking the spirit world tires the body, mind, and soul.” The man lay back down shakily, looking distinctly unsteady and definitely unwilling to try sitting up again. “Rest. I will bring your wife’s soup.” Standing up, she turned and left the room.

“You look rough,” Zerith muttered. “I’m glad Alayne’s not here to see you like this.

Given how she worried and fussed over me and how she worries and fusses over Jez’ral, she’d probably be a few thousand times worse with you.”

“I’ll be fine in a few hours,” Ger’alin sighed sullenly. “Just a short nap and we’ll be on our way before early evening. Just a short…nap…,” he muttered, his eyes drifting shut and his breathing growing deep and even.

“So, who wants to be the one to tell him that it’s well after midnight?” Callie asked when Ger’alin started snoring. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin tried not to grind his teeth anymore as he finished fastening his armor back on the next morning. He couldn’t believe he’d been under the effects of that drink for the entire day. When he’d woken near dawn and Callie had gotten him up-to-date, he’d wanted to scream in frustration. They should have been back in Shattrath by now. He should be sitting next to Alayne, reading some arcane tome or treatise over her shoulder; not getting ready to ride off and face down some orcish ghosts haunting a huge hunk of rock. “Now, now,” he muttered to himself. “Patience. The orcs reverence the spirits of their ancestors and the spirits of the natural world. Disturbances to one or the other are cause for much worry to them. Just because I don’t particularly believe in it myself and just because it seems incredibly silly to me is no excuse for belittlement. I must be patient and compassionate. Light, help me,” he prayed as he belted on his sword. “Still, it would be easier if she were here. She distracts me even more when we’re apart than she ever does when we’re together.” Drawing a deep breath and forcing thoughts of his wife to the back of his mind, he strode out of the room and out of the hut to where the others were waiting.

Zerith nodded curtly to Ger’alin, hiding his relief at seeing the man up and about. The priest had been worried that the Blood Knight might not be up to traveling this morning. Only Callie’s insistence that Ger’alin’s color was much improved and that his appetite was back had begun to calm the priest. Zerith watched carefully as Ger’alin climbed into Lucky’s saddle, looking for signs of weakness. Ger’alin caught him staring and glared back at him.

“I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix,” the elf muttered irritably. “Let’s be on our way,” he continued, clucking to his horse and leading the way out of Garadar. The others fell in behind him, bowing politely in their saddles when they saw Garrosh watching them leave. Grandmother had gone up to her customary seat in the hospice after breakfast, a crowd of children running about attesting to her presence there still. Once the group was outside of Garadar, Ger’alin kicked his horse to a canter, eager to be finished with this messing about the spirit world. Taking the road south through Halaa, he sawed on the reins, causing Lucky to rear. “My apologies, good sir,” he said politely to the orc walking down the middle of the road. “I did not see you.”

“Ger’alin, who are you talking to?” Callie asked, pulling up alongside him.

149

“That gentleman right there,” he replied, gesturing to the orc. “I think he’s angry with me. I nearly ran him over.”

“I don’t see anyone.”

“He’s right there.”

“There’s no one there.”

“Callie, I swear, he is right…where did he go?”

“Ger’alin, maybe we should go back…”

“No. I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with,” he growled, heeling his horse to a quick walk and keeping his eyes peeled.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dar’ja whispered to Callie when the Forsaken fell back, staring at Ger’alin worriedly.

“He’s seeing people that aren’t there,” Callie muttered. “I wonder if he’s caught some kind of sickness like Alayne did.”

“I’ll check him later,” Zerith sighed. “He seemed perfectly fine this morning, though.”

“You do that.”

“He’s stopping again. Looks like he’s talking to someone,” Dar’ja muttered.

“This might be a long trip,” Callie sighed. “If we’ve gotten her husband ill, Alayne’s going to skin all of us.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin tried to ignore the worried stares from his friends and tried to ignore the wandering spirits, all intent on Oshu’gun. After the fourth orc had ignored his apologies, he’d started to realize that he wasn’t seeing orcs; he was seeing orc spirits. The same orc spirits that Garrosh had seen. The thought made Ger’alin’s skin crawl and made him wish Alayne were here. Her experiences with the dead and undead in Northrend would have done much to calm him; to reassure him that he was not losing his mind. Not to mention that her simple presence would have acted as a balm on his troubled soul. “I am never leaving her side again,” he vowed silently. “I just get in trouble when I do.”

“This looks like the place,” Dar’ja said evenly, a slight edge of concern in her voice whenever she glanced at Ger’alin. “It’s a big, white rock.”

“This is Oshu’gun,” he replied. “We should find the entrance over there,” he gestured towards the north facing, towards a point where all of the spirits seemed to be headed. The other three stared at him; there was nothing in the mountain to indicate any entrance point.

Ger’alin stifled a groan and strode off, blinking and praying that he would not be cursed to see the orcish dead for the rest of his life. His ears twitched in agitation when he heard the others whispering about him. Ignoring them and trying to ignore the ghosts, he continued on, unsheathing his sword and bringing his shield down when he saw the strange creatures Grandmother had mentioned.

“What are those?” Zerith asked, pointing to the glowing beings.

“Oh, good, you see them too,” Ger’alin sighed before he could clamp his mouth shut.

“I don’t know,” he continued, irritated at himself and at the others. “They seem to be ignoring us for now, though. Maybe if we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone.” Walking onward, he groaned when several of the creatures turned to stare at the four. “We come in…peace,” he sighed, pulling his shield up and slashing in with his blade as the creatures began running towards them.

“What in the name of…?” Callie exclaimed when several of them vanished, only to reappear much closer to the four. Whipping her daggers out from her sleeves, she rushed up to stand behind Ger’alin while Dar’ja and Zerith hung back, preparing their spells and watching to make certain the creatures couldn’t flank them. Ger’alin let loose with a roar and 150

rushed to meet them, his shield blocking the blows from one while he slashed at a second.

Callie followed on his heels, her daggers moving nearly as quickly as the ethereal creatures.

She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the way her blows made shocks and sparks dance up her arms. Within moments, they had the first four down, but more were coming to replace them.

Long moments passed while Ger’alin and Callie fought on, swords and daggers working to destroy the beings. Pressing onward through the fighting, they drew near the entrance to Oshu’gun. “Hurry, inside!” Ger’alin ordered, waiting for Zerith and Dar’ja to run in before he began backing his way into the mountain cavern. Using the narrow entrance to his advantage, he forced the creatures to take him one at a time, careful not to actually touch them or let them touch him. He feared that another jolting shock to his sword arm would put him out of the fight. Callie scrambled to his side, hiding behind his shield, ducking out only to throw the occasional dagger at one of the creatures. By the time the glowing humanoids decided that keeping the four out of the mountain was more trouble than it was worth, a pile of their wrappings littered the entrance way nearly ankle-deep. “Some kind of demon?”

Callie suggested as the last six broke off their attack and retreated.

“Could be. Grab a few of those remains if you can. Alayne will want to study them,” Ger’alin muttered, slamming his sword into its sheath and shaking his nearly numb hand. “To be honest, though, I thought they would be spell casters.”

“Why would you think that?” the Forsaken asked as she gathered a few of the strange wrappings. “Light, that stings!”

“There is a definite sense of arcane energy in those things,” Zerith muttered, confirming Ger’alin’s suspicions. “Maybe we can find someone around here who knows more about them. Come on, let’s move deeper into this cave,” he suggested. “Who knows but that they ran to get reinforcements?” Ger’alin nodded and took a calming breath before heading after the priest and the other Blood Knight.

The cavern opened up into a soothingly lit room. Cool, marble railings lined the walls and banners, faded and tattered with age, hung at regular intervals. Lines gouged into the smooth floor glowed faintly, evenly, with soft light. A ramp wound its way deeper down into the mountain. Ger’alin stared at the room and then turned and looked over his shoulder, startled by the contrast. From outside, it seemed as if this were just another rocky mountain cave. From inside… Shaking his head, he marched ahead of the others, praying that he wasn’t leading them into danger by following the dead orcs. He stopped and motioned for the others to halt, cupping his ear and straining to hear. “Uh oh,” he breathed, reaching for his weapon.

“Uh oh what?” Zerith groaned, stepping back and letting the others move in front.

“Uh oh that,” Ger’alin nearly screamed, his jaws clenched, as a doom guard rushed up the spiraling ramp at the far end of the room to meet them.

“You know, I really wish Alayne was here,” Dar’ja sighed as she unsheathed her own sword.

“I wish that too,” Ger’alin muttered. ~*~*~*~ “How many demons have we killed?” Zerith asked as they moved deeper into the mountain.

“I lost count around twenty,” Callie grinned.

“Twenty-four,” Ger’alin answered. “That’s twenty-three too many in my book.”

“Well, I don’t think we’re going to see any more, other than the one I found earlier,” Dar’ja offered helpfully. “Because that way leads to a blank wall,” she continued, pointing

151

down the corridor she’d just come back from exploring. “And, as I said earlier, that way has a room leading off of it. I think that’s where we have to go.”

“What? We can’t be at the end of this thing already,” Ger’alin growled. “We haven’t found the cause of the spirits’ distress!”

“Maybe it’s in that room I mentioned?” Dar’ja sighed.

“All you said was that there were demons in there,” Ger’alin spat.

“Yes, and they seem to be doing something. They’re not just standing around. That six-armed swordswoman is hovering over something and shouting at the warlocks around her. Maybe that’s what it is,” she said, brightening. “Those warlocks must be causing the problem! If we get rid of them, we get rid of the problem and Garrosh will lead the orcs!”

“I don’t know,” Ger’alin said slowly. “I think there’s got to be more to it than just a bunch of warlocks mucking things up. But, let’s go on and assume you’re right, Dar’ja,” he said calmly, hoping that the woman wouldn’t snap at him like she used to. “You very well could be. Let’s try to sneak up on them and see if we can learn more.”

Not waiting for the others, he began to tiptoe down the hallway, moving slowly to keep his armor from giving him away. He winced when he heard the silvery ringing of Dar’ja’s armor chiming from behind him. Motioning for her to stay put, he gestured for Callie to go ahead of all of them. The rogue grinned and snuck down to the door, glancing in quickly. Her eyes widened in shock and her expression changed from one of humor to one of anger. Without waiting for the others, she dove into the room. “So much for stealth,” Dar’ja muttered as she ran ahead and into the room. Ger’alin and Zerith followed on her heels, both wondering what had set the rogue off. Entering the room, they saw that the warlocks were ignoring the two women completely, their concentration focused on some object behind the demoness. Callie and Dar’ja fought the six-armed demon; the rogue ducking behind her while Dar’ja attacked from the front. Ger’alin rushed in, shoving the elf woman aside and taking one of the blows from the many-armed monstrosity on his shield. Dodging and weaving, he bore on, keeping the demon’s attention while the women worked it from rear and side, all three fighting until the vile creature was defeated. Ger’alin tensed, preparing for the warlocks to begin unleashing their spells, agog when, after a moment, nothing happened.

“Ger’alin, look,” Dar’ja said, pointing to the platform in front of the demonic corpse.

He glanced up to see a shining being, a naaru, hovering over the platform. His eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave way beneath him, dropping him in a heap on the ground just as the warlocks ceased their channeling and turned on the other three. “I didn’t mean for you to faint,” Dar’ja muttered, her voice a mixture of concern and irritation as the three rushed the warlocks, trying to keep them from trampling the fallen sin’dorei. ~*~*~*~ The place looked familiar to him. It seemed as if he had been here once before. He could see the shades of orcs gathering around him, their essences merging, mingling with something behind him. Turning, Ger’alin gasped. A darkly glowing naaru hung before him, a sinister feel emanating from it. Wrenching his gaze away, he had to remind himself to breathe as he watched the orc spirits darken and twist, their form giving way to shadow until all that was left of them was a forbidding, black void. Once the transformation was complete, the former orc spirits glided from the room. “What…where am I?” “You should not be here,” familiar chimes sang in his mind. “This is not your place; this is not your time.”

“Who are you?”

“I am K’ure of the naaru,” the chimes rang in reply, “and you stand in the heart of Oshu’gun, my vessel, the one which first brought the draenei to Draenor.”

152

“What is going on here? Do you know what is turning the orcish spirits into…demons?” he asked, bracing for the blow.

“I am,” the being replied sadly. “Many hundreds of years ago, this vessel crashed into the world that became known as Draenor. My weakened energies have remained trapped within the vessel which the orcs know as Oshu’gun or the Diamond Mountain. As my energies bled away over the centuries, a void slowly grew in my place - devouring the souls of those nearby. Helplessly, I watched as generations of orc souls were drawn into the vortex.

Recently, my enemies harnessed the vortex and used it to draw countless void minions into their Burning Legion.”

“You’re the cause of the spirits’ distress.”

“I am.”

“What must be done to end it?”

“I fear that only time will end it. This is a natural regeneration cycle among my people. You have done much to end the manipulation of the orc dead, young mortal, by freeing me from the demons’ control.”

“That’s impossible! The naaru are beings of Light! You’re some of the most powerful creatures in the universe!”

“We are also beings of shadow, young mortal. Without one, the other could not exist.

And we weaken in time; our energies fading into void. So it has ever been; so shall it ever be.

However, you have, at least, freed the orcs from falling into the void. There is one who can ensure my peace and solitude until the cycle turns back; speak with A’dal. He can explain further. You must return now. Leave this place before you become trapped in the void.”

“I’d like to but I have…” “…no idea how to get out of here,” Ger’alin muttered, opening his eyes.

“Look, Ger’alin, a naaru,” Dar’ja said, pointing to something on a platform above him. “The warlocks must have been holding it prisoner.”

“They weren’t. This is K’ure’s home. Some kind of ship, not that it looks like any boat I’ve ever seen,” Ger’alin groaned, rubbing his head. “There was something about draenei, crashing, shadow and Light, and that the Legion is using K’ure in his current state to twist the orc spirits into creatures of the void and bleeding his energies to summon demons.

No wonder there were so many in here. K’ure is the reason the orc spirits are wandering but since the demons controlling him are dead, the orc spirits should make their way on. He said that the only way to prevent it from happening again would be to have someone come who can ensure his rest and tranquility until this centuries’ long cycle plays itself out. Why are you three staring at me like that?”

“Did you hit your head when you fell, Gerry?” Callie asked, squatting down beside him and turning his face to look into his eyes.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Are you feeling light-headed or dizzy?” Zerith asked.

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you hearing voices?” Dar’ja added.

“No, I’ve not lost my mind! I passed out and went into the spirit realm right here in this room and talked to K’ure, the naaru hovering up there, and he told me all of this.”

“Zerith?” Dar’ja asked.

“Seems fine to me,” the priest sighed, his hand pressed to Ger’alin’s forehead.

“Nothing wrong that I can tell. He just sounds crazy is all.”

“I am not crazy.”

“Maybe it’s because of that thing he drank last night?” Dar’ja whispered.

“I’m right here. Could someone try talking to me?”

153

“Regardless, we should get him out of here. Ger’alin, you just stay right where you are. Callie, grab his feet.”

“I can walk! You three are the ones who are crazy!” Ger’alin shouted angrily as he sat up and, giving the room time to settle back down, pulled himself to his feet. “I wish I’d never drank that stupid potion now,” he said woozily as he staggered out of the room. “I wish Garrosh wasn’t so stubborn. I wish that this place would settle back down again because I do believe I’m about to be sick.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and craned his neck to try to see around Ger’alin. He was tempted to let Dar’ja lead the horse from her own mount the way Callie was leading El’a. The Blood Knight had done well, walking unsteadily up the passageways beneath Oshu’gun. Once he’d left the shadows of the cavern and stepped into the sunlight, he’d collapsed again, shaking and covering his eyes. Now he gibbered incoherently while Zerith tried to keep him from falling off Lucky’s back. The only things the priest could make out were “void” “K’ure” “A’dal” and “Garrosh.” “I never should have let him drink whatever it was that orc hag mixed up for him,” Zerith sighed as he reached up and pushed Ger’alin back straight.

“Stop!” Ger’alin groaned. “You’ll run her over.”

“There’s no one there,” Zerith said soothingly. “Just go back to sleep.” This was worse than when Alayne would wake up in mid-flight. At least she would stop fighting after a second. Ger’alin grew more combative, trying to grab the reins from the priest. “Ger’alin, stop it,” Zerith said warningly. “I will let you fall if you don’t stop that.”

“You’re trampling them!”

“There is no one on the road other than us,” Zerith continued. “Just close your eyes.

We’ll be back in Garadar shortly and you can sleep off the rest of the effects of that Lightforsaken mixture.”

“I must speak with Garrosh. He has to know it’s not his fault.”

“You can speak with him when you’re feeling better.”

“No! I must speak with him right away! And look out, there’s another one!”

“Light, grant me patience, wisdom, and understanding,” Zerith prayed beneath his breath and he tried to keep the other man on the horse. “Also, a little more strength would not be amiss right now.” He heaved a sigh of relief when Ger’alin settled back down, his head hanging and his voice dropping back to incoherent whispering. “Thank you, Light,” he whispered when he saw Garadar coming into view. Wishing that he could spur Lucky to a trot, he prayed that Ger’alin would stay calm until they could get him off the horse. “Thank you, Light,” he whispered again in gratitude. Callie and Dar’ja dismounted and hurried over to catch Ger’alin as Zerith let the man fall out of the saddle. “He’s heavy.”

“Thanks for the warning, dearest,” Dar’ja said, her arms straining and her eyes bulging as she tried to hold the other paladin up.

“Not at all,” the priest replied as he leapt out of the saddle and let his shaking arms hang down. “I never realized just how strong he is until I had to wrestle with him. How Alayne managed to best him at all will remain a mystery to me.”

“Zerith, that sounds fascinating but maybe you could help me?” she groaned, staggering under Ger’alin’s deadweight. Callie sighed and reached over, grabbing the unconscious man by an arm and pulling him up to his feet. Draping his arm over her shoulders and wrapping an arm around his waist, the Forsaken began to try to drag him some place where he could finish sleeping. Garrosh noticed the activity and motioned for two of his grunts to stop what they were doing and help the Forsaken out.

154

“I heard you traveled to the sacred mountain,” Garrosh said to Zerith and Dar’ja without prologue. “What did the spirits say?”

Zerith held his tongue and squeezed his wife’s hand, requesting her silence as well while he tried to think of an answer that would not cause further problems. Telling the orc chieftain that the sacred mountain was infested with demons might work in their favor. Of course, it might also work against them. The priest wished Ger’alin were coherent; the Blood Knight at least had some basis for understanding the inexplicable system of honor, ordeal, and pride that made up most of orc civilization. “What did the spirits say?” Garrosh pressed, his expression growing more and more glum with the passing seconds.

“We ventured deep into the sacred mountain,” the priest said quickly. “But, we do not understand what we saw. We would like to speak with your shaman about it before…”

“Shaman? The shamans who refused to serve the Legion were all killed by my father and the other blood-drinkers! Those who try to practice shamanism now find themselves at odds with the spirits. I know what you must have seen; you must have seen that I am unworthy to lead my people. I…will send Grandmother to you. Your friend will be taken to her home. What happened to him?”

“That’s what we need to talk to a shaman about,” Dar’ja said quickly. “While we were inside the sacred mountain, he collapsed and when he came back around, he wasn’t making much sense. Perhaps the spirits revealed something to him that we simply don’t have the knowledge to understand.”

“Then Grandmother will help you. She is the wisest of us. The spirits still listen to her and speak where she can hear.” ~*~*~*~ Geyah stepped out of the room where the young elf lay resting. The other three stared up at her. “He will be well,” she said softly. “He possesses an unusual attunement to the spirit world.”

“Did you understand any of what he was raving about?” Zerith asked.

“Yes,” she sighed sadly.

“Has Garrosh changed his mind?” Zerith started to say, biting his tongue when he saw the orc storm out of the other room. “I take it he’s still the same.” Geyah nodded.

“He refuses to accept that it is not his fault. He will not see it. If anything, Ger’alin has made things worse. Garrosh says that Ger’alin should lead the Mag’har – that the spirits accept the elf while they only haunt him.”

“That’s insane!” Zerith growled before he could stop himself. “No offense intended, Grandmother. The spirits don’t accept Ger’alin. He’s just having a reaction to whatever was in that concoction he drank yesterday.” Geyah said nothing but glanced back at the doorway.

“I apologize,” Zerith began again, feeling as if he had just put his foot in his mouth.

“It’s not that,” the ancient orc matron said. “He would make a fine chieftain. He reminds me of my son. My son was just as determined, strong, honorable as that young man in there. He would stop at nothing to aid our people. He sacrificed himself to give future generations a chance to grow up in a world that did not know the demonic bloodlust…How I wish he were here now. Durotan, your people need you…”

“Durotan was your son?” Callie said, shocked to her toenails. Geyah nodded sadly.

“Everyone calls me ‘Grandmother.’ I insist on that for, in a way, I am everyone’s grandmother. I saved many of the orcs here when Blackhand abandoned them, saying that they were too weak to worry about, that only the strong should survive. But, I never had the chance to see or know my own grandchild. Durotan’s wife told me she hoped to have a child before they went through the Dark Portal. She wanted her child to be raised in a world 155

without Gul’dan’s dark Horde; that’s why they left. I…never heard from them again. I begged the spirits to be with them, to protect them. They must be dead, and their child, too.

Did you know my son?”

“We never had the honor,” Zerith answered. “Back in our world, however, he is remembered as a great hero. The orcs of Azeroth named their new homeland ‘Durotar’ in honor of Durotan. And…” he said, taking a deep breath and wondering if the elder matron would survive the shock of what he was about to reveal. She met his gaze evenly, expectantly, her dark eyes calm. “The Warchief of the Horde in Azeroth, our leader, is the son of Durotan.”

“My grandson, the son of my son, lives? I want to see him! I must see him. Please, young elf, ask him to come to me. I am too old to travel to him. Tell him that his blood lives on here, in his shattered homeland. Tell him of the troubles with the spirits. Tell him everything. I will take care of him,” she said, seeing the priest’s troubled glance towards the doorway to the inner room. “He is a hero to our people. As, it seems, my son is a hero to yours.”

156

Chapter Sixteen: Redemption of the Orcs

A

layne watched as the others rode off. She grinned and blushed, wondering how diplomatic Ger’alin would manage to be considering he’d gotten no sleep at all. “I tried to tell him,” she muttered to herself, “but he wouldn’t listen. Not that I really wanted to listen to me either.” Turning away, she saw Jez’ral wandering aimlessly around the tier. With a sigh, she walked over to him. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better. I remember my name, now. I’m Jez’ral Cloudslasher.”

“That’s good,” she cooed, speaking as she would to a child.

“Young woman, I lost my memory. I didn’t become an idiot. Please don’t use that tone of voice with me.”

“That’s even better,” she sighed in relief. “You still can’t remember who I am, can you?”

“You’re not Mir’el by any chance, are you?”

“No, I am not,” she said blushing.

“Actually…you look exactly like a woman I think remember. She was called Miris.”

“I know. I’m told I favor her greatly,” Alayne sighed. “You don’t remember me at all do you?”

“Not really, no,” he muttered, looking dejected. “I know that I should, though.”

“It’s all right, Jez’ral,” she said softly. “Why don’t we go have a picnic, just the two of us, and you can tell me anything you do remember.”

“That sounds…do I like picnics?”

“If you don’t, you’ll learn to because I do. Come on,” she said, gesturing for him to fall in behind her. ~*~*~*~ “You’re a good cook,” Jez’ral complimented the young woman after he swallowed another spoonful of stew. “This stew is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Alayne sighed.

“You aren’t eating any.”

“I’m not really hungry,” she muttered, setting her bowl aside. “I’ve got too much on my mind of late.”

“Perhaps you would prefer to spend time with the others?” he asked. “You seem to spend a lot of time with me.”

“Oh, they’ve all gone someplace else for a while to take care of some business,” Alayne replied. “So, is there anything you recall?”

“Well, I told you about my name. I can kind of remember being in a battle with you and some others and there was this gigantic green monster. He…I think he hit me and that’s when I lost my memory. Other than that, I don’t remember much of anything when I’m awake. I can recall things in dreams but, when I wake up, it all slips away except for the memory that there was something there.”

157

“What about that book?” she asked, pointing to the treatise he carried with him everywhere. “Do you remember it?”

“No, but it is filled with interesting information about demons.”

“What about the name of the person who wrote it? Mir’el? Do you remember who that is?”

“I know that I should,” he answered slowly, feeling the panic begin to well within him. “But I can’t recall who he or she is. Just that…whenever I see or hear that name, my heart turns over and I want to scream because I should know who Mir’el is! Young woman, would you please tell me?”

“I’m very sorry, Jez’ral,” Alayne said gently, “but I can’t. The healers…” “…You mean your husband Ger’alin and your brother Zerith, neither of whom is old enough to be let outside without supervision…” he snorted derisively. Alayne stared at him, her jaw hanging open. “I think that I remember not liking them,” he said, sounding delighted.

“Yes, yes, I remember distinctly not liking them at all and wishing you would stop associating with them because…because they were disrespectful to me, once. I guess I like them now,” he sighed. “What would I be doing living alongside them if I disliked them?”

Alayne nodded slowly, uncertain of how to respond. “If you’re not going to finish your bowl, may I have it?” he asked.

“Between you and Ger’alin…” she sighed, handing the bowl over. “Jez’ral, I’m going to have to leave you alone for a while. I’m going down to Lower City for a bit to try to clear my mind. Will you promise me that you’ll stay here and won’t go wandering around? I don’t want a repeat of what happened yesterday when you saw the Aldorites.”

“Excuse me for screaming when I saw blue devils walking around,” he muttered sullenly as he slurped down the last bit of stew. “I’ll be fine, young woman. You really will have to tell me your name.”

“Are you certain you can’t remember it?” she asked quietly. Jez’ral stared at her for a long minute before shaking his head. “I’ll be back shortly,” she whispered sadly. “Stay out of trouble.”

The man watched her leave, his heart sinking in his chest. He knew that he should know her. Was she his daughter? A younger sister? Who was she? Was she Mir’el? “No, she’s not Mir’el,” he muttered to himself. “If she were, she wouldn’t need to read those books. She’d know what they said. Maybe Mir’el is her father, if I’m not. Light, why can’t I remember who she is?” Standing up, he began walking around the Tier, idly considering taking the elevator again to go down and look at those blue devils the others called ‘draenei.’

Something about them tickled the back of his mind; they were related to something… “Bah! I’ll never remember anything!” he moaned. “I’m going to go take a nap,” he said to no one, patting his stomach and feeling the comfortable lassitude that came after eating more than he should have. “At least when I’m asleep, things seem to make sense.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne kicked irritably at loose stones in the pavement, keeping her hands at her sides and a careful grip on her money pouch. Callie had warned her about the pickpockets who watched for the unwary on the underside of Shattrath. The naaru and the draenei boasted that anyone was welcome in the sanctuary of the City of Light. Alayne snorted and wished that their welcome didn’t have to extend to criminals. “Or that they’d at least send some guards down here. Light, this place is filthy,” she muttered, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “I should have gone to Nagrand,” she sighed. “Jez’ral is fine by himself and, frankly, I’m getting tired of his not knowing who I am and my not being allowed to tell him anything. I should have gone. I hope they’ll be back by this evening,” she whispered, wiping tears of self-pity from 158

her cheeks. “I had no idea just how alone I would feel with all of them gone. Light, woman,” she growled to herself, “it’s barely been two hours. Get a hold of yourself.”

Walking through the bazaar, she stopped to finger some of the thick carpets the weavers had, showing their skill and artistry. “This would go great in the living room,” she muttered beneath her breath, sighing as she let it go and continued her stroll. For long moments, she wandered, her gaze turned inward as she lost herself in a daydream about all of them moving into the house in Nagrand. She grinned and laughed to herself, seeing Jez’ral, his memory completely restored, getting upset and flustered because one of Zerith’s daughters had smeared jam all over some text he was working on. Mir’el would be there, too, laughing at whatever they were up to, happily buried in adopted grandchildren. She, Dar’ja, and Callie would be plotting some elaborate prank that would completely backfire on them, and Ger’alin and Zerith would be working with the Scryers and the Aldor to establish better relations once Prince Kael’thas came to his senses and gave up his delusional plan to summon the Burning Legion into Azeroth. They’d be free to come and go from Quel’Thalas, retiring out to Nagrand only because it was such a pleasant place to get away from it all – especially after the research she and Jez’ral were working on led to a way to re-ignite the Sunwell. She’d spend her days teaching arcane techniques to the kids, able to feel the warm glow from the distant font of sin’dorei magic…

Stumbling, she threw out her hands to regain her balance, catching herself just before she landed on her face. Feeling something moving beneath her legs, she rolled over, surprised to see an elven girl, no older than five or six, staring up at her in terror. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry, Miss!” the little girl cried. “I was just trying to get the ball that they kicked over there! The Matron says we should look both ways before we cross the street and I always forget. Please don’t tell her; I’ll get in so much trouble!”

“Whoa, calm down,” Alayne said. “I won’t tell anyone anything. I should have been watching where I was going. Are you alright?” she asked again, examining the girl closely.

Her light blonde hair floated around her face, the fine strands slipping out of the braids her mother must have plaited to try to keep it from getting dirty. That attempt had failed; the girl’s clothes were dusty and torn, as if she’d been playing rough. Sweat and tears trapped the dirt to her face; her futile attempts to wipe it away just smearing mud across her cheeks. The girl’s hands and knees were red and bleeding where she’d skinned them when Alayne had tripped over her. Alayne glanced at her own palms, smiling ruefully at the asphalt burns stinging the skin of her hands. Standing up, she bent over to dust her knees off and reached out a hand to pull the girl to her own feet. “Where are your parents?” she asked.

“I…I don’t have any,” the girl muttered. “I live with the Matron at the orphanage.

Please don’t tell her I didn’t look both ways; she’ll get very mad at me.”

“No, she won’t,” Alayne muttered, wondering where this orphanage was. “Show me where you live; I’ll take you home so you can get those cuts cleaned up.” The girl stared at her for a moment before glancing down at her own palms and knees. She lifted her ripped and ragged skirts and stared at them in horror.

“Oh no,” she breathed. “Matron will be so upset with me! I can’t go back now!” she cried as she started to run away. A nearby group of children started laughing and taunting the little girl.

“Sar’la, you’re really going to get it this time!” a draenei boy laughed, pointing at the panicking girl.

“Girls don’t play with boys!” an elven boy shouted. “See, you just get hurt whenever you try!” Alayne glared at them, her gaze rolling off of them like water off the back of a duck. Reaching down before the girl could bolt, she grabbed hold of her collar, nearly strangling the child before the warlock could get her to stay put.

159

“Is your name Sar’la?” she asked, squatting down to look the girl in the eye. The girl nodded, casting her glance back towards the other children and chewing her lip worriedly.

“Well, Sar’la, I’m Alayne. Do you live around here?” The girl nodded, looking confused.

“Good. I’m not from around here,” Alayne continued, “and, if you could just show me where everything is and tell me about this place, I’d really appreciate it. I keep getting lost,” she grinned. Sar’la nodded and smiled gratefully. Alayne closed her eyes and whispered the incantation to summon her fel steed, stifling a laugh when she heard the girl gasp and the other children begin whispering in awe. Reaching down, she plunked the girl on the fel steed’s back and leapt up behind her. “Now,” she said to Sar’la, “this is a magical horse. You just tell him where to go and he goes there. I’ll bet none of the other kids have gotten to ride a horse that can do that,” she grinned, swallowing her laughter with an effort of will when the girl began talking to the horse. Using her legs, careful not to spoil the illusion, Alayne let the orphaned child lead her on a tour of the City of Light. ~*~*~*~ “Mir’el, please, come down from there!” Jez’ral shouted up the steep hill. “Please don’t make me climb up there after you,” he moaned, eyeing the embankment warily. He waited for several minutes, hearing nothing but silence, before tucking his shoulder-length black hair behind his ears and walking up to the hill. Digging his fingers into the soft dirt, he began pulling himself up the way the other man had gone, his eyes clenched shut so hard that his ears rang. “Mir’el, for the love of all that is holy, say something!”

“I think,” the other man called down, “that we’re lost.”

“Something useful!”

“Okay then, we’re most definitely lost. Wait where you are. I’m coming down.”

“Mir’el, get me off of this Light-forsaken cliff!” Jez’ral shouted, wincing when his words echoed back to him. There was no telling what was waiting out there, listening to potential prey panic.

“Jez’ral, it’s not even twenty feet,” Mir’el sighed, jumping lightly out of the tree he’d climbed to get a better look at the surrounding area. “I know, I know. You’re afraid of heights. You really should get over that. It’s been ten years now and Tal’ar has apologized for it repeatedly.”

“ShutupandgetmeoffthiscliffbeforeIfallanddie!” he shrieked, trembling because he’d made the mistake of opening his eyes and looking down. The ground seemed very far away.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Mir’el muttered, laying down at the top of the hill and reaching down as far as he could. “Give me one of your hands.” Jez’ral freed one from the dirt and slowly inched it up as far as he could, ready to dig back into the cliff if he felt the slightest disturbance. “That’s my skin, not the hill!” Mir’el shouted. Grunting with the effort involved, he heaved the other man up over the edge of the hill and sat back to catch his breath. “You can open your eyes now. You’re up.”

“Thank you. Now, did you say we were lost?” Jez’ral asked shakily.

“I did.”

“May I remind you that I said eight times that this short cut through Zul’Aman was a stupid idea? Master Bor’in is going to kill both of us if we ever get out of here. Miris is going to have a fit, too!”

“I’ll handle Miris,” Mir’el replied. “And, I’d like to remind you that I told you nine times not to follow me.”

“As if I’m going to let my best friend go wandering into troll territory alone. Light, why did we come out here to begin with? I’ve forgotten what with the worrying about whether or not a troll is going to jump out and eat both of us.”

160

“Fireberries,” Mir’el said absently. “I came out here to get fireberries for Father. He said we were running low.”

“Mir’el, I swear, as soon as we’re safe, I’m going to kill you. That is, if your fiancée doesn’t kill you first. Fireberries! In Zul’Aman?!”

“Well, the wild ones are the most potent,” Mir’el replied defensively. “And I told you…”

“I know, nine times not to follow you. I’m starting to wish I’d listened.”

“You should try backtracking,” Mir’el said suddenly. “I swear, Jez’ral, you know every tree personally. I get lost going into the garden. You backtrack, figure the way out of here, and then come back here for me.”

“And leave you alone while I wander, alone, in ZUL-LIGHT-FORSAKENAMAN?!” Jez’ral roared.

“Ach, you’ll do better on your own anyway,” Mir’el muttered sullenly. “All I ever do is get you in trouble.”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless it’s an incantation to zip us straight back to Quel’Thalas where we belong.” Mir’el snapped his mouth shut and began staring at his fingernails, sighing in frustration. “Now, what is going on with you lately? Ever since Master Bor’in announced your engagement to Miris, you’ve been acting oddly – even by your incredible standards of ‘odd.’” Mir’el continued to study his nails, picking dirt out from under them. “Okay, moron,” Jez’ral snorted. “You can talk.”

“Nothing has been going on with me,” Mir’el answered. “I’m still rather upset that Father didn’t bother to even warn me, though. I know our family has done the arrangedmarriage thing since…since…since forever but I’d still have liked a little warning.”

“Why? Because Miris is a commoner? Don’t you start with that, too.”

“That doesn’t bother me at all, actually,” Mir’el sighed. “I mean, look at you. You’re my best friend and you’re not completely… I mean… Your mother wasn’t exactly…no offense intended, old friend, but…”

“I know. She was the cook. I think having that held over my head by all of those other little hellions would be enough to let you know that I remember that!”

“Don’t let them bother you. At least she was married to your father before you came along. Most of those other brats couldn’t make the same claim,” Mir’el giggled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, it made them so mad when I would tell them that. That was fun.”

“As pleasant as remembering seeing you put those brutes in their places is, do you think you could tell me just how we’re getting home?”

“You are going to climb down from here and backtrack. I will stay up here and wait for you.”

“I already told you; that plan is stupid. Come up with another one.”

“Well, then I suppose we could wait for the trolls to get us. That’s the only other way out of here I see.”

“Or we could climb down together and find our way out.”

“I’d just get us more lost. Face it, Jez’ral. Father’s right. I’m a complete failure at everything.”

“You are not! Master Bor’in…well, he’s wrong. Just look at how quickly you picked up those…those…what were they called? The demons you enslaved and made paint the living room?”

“Voidwalkers. And, being good at demonic control is hardly something to be proud of. The only reason it’s tolerated at all is because my family has been studying it since the Sundering. It’s our tradition. That’s why I have to marry Miris,” Mir’el said, as if by rote.

“She’s got so much raw talent for arcane workings. Our blood is getting a little thin. I have to 161

do my duty and carry on the lineage of the Darkweavers. I am the last of the line right now.”

After a lengthy silence, Mir’el said suddenly, “Does all of that sound as stupid and pompous to you as it does to me?”

“I’m just glad I won’t have to listen to those lectures for at least another ten years,” Jez’ral laughed dryly. “I’m also glad I’m not my father’s only son. Hearing that nonsense second-hand from you is bad enough.”

“Just pray that you don’t come home one evening to be told to dress up, be taken to a feast, and learn that you’re going to marry someone you stumbled across at the Runestones when she was barely old enough to have mastered walking.”

“Good times, those,” Jez’ral giggled.

“Oh, be quiet. You weren’t much better at walking either.”

“I was so! I was six when that happened. She was only three.”

“And I was twenty-five. You both were little klutzes. I felt like such a buffoon that day; two kids clinging to my legs while I tried to understand the arcane wardings laid on the stones to shield us from demonic attention. And, the whole time, I had either you or her constantly asking, ‘Miwel, whatcha doin?’”

“And ‘why?’ Don’t forget ‘why.’”

“She preferred ‘how come’ and ‘what’s that?’”

“Her father nearly passed out when he saw her riding on your shoulders,” Jez’ral laughed. “A noble, bringing his little runaway home.”

“It was even worse a few days later when my father rode out to their farm to announce that he was going to sponsor Miris’s entry into the Academy. I thought the man was going to die of a heart attack. I wonder, how far back was Father planning this whole thing? Ah well,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and knocking the beaded band he wore around his forehead askew. “If all goes well, it will be over, soon,” he whispered, too softly for Jez’ral to hear. “Let’s get going,” he said aloud. “I’ll climb down first, to catch you if you fall.” Suiting actions to his words, Mir’el scaled back down the hill and stood at the bottom. Jez’ral peeked over the edge, his face going white. “Come on!”

“It’s…really high.”

“You’re the one who wanted to get out of here.”

“I know but…it’s so high.”

“Jez’ral…,” Mir’el glared, tapping his foot angrily.

“Just give me a few minutes. I’ll be down. Just a few minutes.”

“Actually,” Mir’el said, glancing off to the south, “you stay where you are. Don’t follow me anymore, Jez’ral. I want you to go home. Tell Father I died fighting,” he shouted over his shoulder, running into the woods before Jez’ral could work up the nerve to climb down.

“Mir’el, where are you going? What are you doing? Mir’el?!” Jez’ral called after him. “Oh, don’t leave me up here alone,” he moaned, burying his face in the grass at the edge of the cliff. “Mir’el? Mir’el! Come back here! Oh, Light,” he sighed, turning and beginning to climb back down slowly, clinging to the side of the cliff with all his might. “Mir’el, get back here! Mir’el!” he shouted, his foot slipping. “Oh no,” he groaned as he felt himself beginning to fall… ~*~*~*~ “Ouch!” Jez’ral cried out as he landed on the floor. Blinking, he stared at the ground for a moment before recalling that he was in Shattrath, in his room. “Zul’Aman,” he muttered as he twisted around and tried to untangle the sheets from his legs and robes. “I…I remember!” he brightened. “I remember who Mir’el is! He’s my best friend. And…that 162

young woman I’m out here with must be Miris…no, she couldn’t be,” he said, his brow furrowing as he reasoned it out. “She’s far too young and…she’s married to that big man, Ger’alin. All right, I don’t remember. Not everything, at least,” he sighed, rubbing his nose.

“Now, when did that happen? We couldn’t have been very old. My hair was just barely clearing my shoulders, back then,” he said, staring down at his waist-length tresses. “And, if the bad feeling I get from just thinking of Zul’Aman is any indication, we would have had to be in that ‘young and immortal’ phase of life to even think about going in there.”

Pushing himself up to his feet and catching himself before he could trip when the sheets tangled around his ankles, Jez’ral stood up and began rummaging through his things, looking for anything that would help him remember more. Books and vials of reddish liquid – blood, he thought it was – did nothing to jog his recollection. A vial of clear liquid that gave off a warm glow tickled the back of his mind. He shoved it in a pocket, intending to ask the young woman who he wanted to call Miris what it was. Sighing, he left his room in shambles, striding out into the hallway, his hands behind his back and his expression severe while he tried to force memories to return.

Outside the inn, he heard laughter. Glancing up, he threw back his head and roared when he saw the young woman being overrun by children. One child, an elven girl, seemed to have adopted her and was tugging at her skirts, pointing and babbling on. The others; elven, draenei, orc, and tauren, surrounded the pair, clamoring for the woman’s attention and asking something about a magical horse. “Having trouble there?” he asked amicably.

“Jez’ral,” she said slyly, “just the person I wanted to see. Hey, kids,” she called out, “he’s got a magic horse too. Let’s see if he’ll take you for a ride.” Jez’ral blinked and stared at her, his eyes turning cold. She grinned, winked, and walked over to him, going onto her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “It’s easy. Clear your mind, reach out into the Nether as if you were reaching out for arcane energy, and use the following command,” she explained, telling him an incantation to use. His eyes widened in shock; he knew this spell. Stepping back, he summoned the fel steed and smiled, tears springing to his eyes as he stroked its nose.

“I remember,” he sighed. “I remember when I learned this. Mir’el…he thought I would never be able to make it work. I spent days trying and the creature would slip right out of my grasp.”

“You remember?” Alayne asked, patting him on the shoulder fondly. “What else do you remember?”

“Getting lost in Zul’Aman looking for wild fireberries,” he muttered warmly. “It had to have been well before you were born.”

“You remember when I was born?”

“No. I don’t even remember your name. I think…though, no,” he sighed. “I don’t know enough. Now, why did you want me to do this?” he asked, gesturing to the horse.

Alayne bit her lip and twisted her fingers as if a tad worried about the wisdom of this idea.

“What is it? For helping me remember this, I’ll do whatever you want – within reason,” he added quickly.

“Well, I’ve kind of bitten off more than I can chew with these kids,” she said in an undertone, pointing behind her. “It started with me letting Sar’la guide my fel steed; the other kids were picking on her and she was so afraid she was going to get in trouble…I felt sorry for her.” Jez’ral nodded impatiently. “After I’d let her ride with me all over Shattrath, she wanted me to let some of her friends come up here and ride around. If you could just let a couple ride up with you and just direct the fel steed where ever they tell it to go, that would really help me get out of this mess.”

“Sounds simple enough,” he laughed as he climbed onto the fel steed’s back. Alayne grinned in relief and, placing a firm, experienced hand beneath the horse’s jaw, led the beast over to the crowd of orphans.

163

“Jez’ral here is going to let some of you ride his magic horse,” she announced to applause and cheers. “Remember what I said earlier, though. We take turns; only one trip around the Terrace of Light and Lower City and then it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I got to ride more,” Sar’la bragged importantly. “And she told me all about her adventures, too. She’s my best friend.” The other children stared at their comrade, expressions ranging from awe to envy. Alayne clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, wondering if she was setting the best example for them. Shaking her head, she picked up one of the other children, set him on her fel steed’s back, and climbed up behind him.

“Remember,” she said again, “stay here. Anyone who wanders off will not be having that dessert I promised to make for all of you.” The children nodded in agreement and she smiled to herself, whispering to the tauren boy in front of her that he needed to tell the horse to go.

“Horse, go to the Terrace,” the orc girl seated in front of Jez’ral said imperiously.

“Does he have a name?” she whispered to the warlock, sounding worried.

“Hm, I don’t remember,” he admitted.

“You don’t remember your horse’s name?” she said, shocked.

“I don’t remember a lot of things, little girl,” he answered.

“Did you fall down and hit your head? Do you have ham-knee-see-ah?” she wondered, sounding the word out and proud of herself for remembering the term. Jez’ral barked a quick laugh and nodded.

“Something like that,” he grinned ruefully.

“Well, okay,” she muttered, thinking furiously. “Then, we’ll pretend that your horse’s name is Durotan. He’s a hero, not like that bad old Hellscream,” she confided. “And I’m his daughter. I’m a princess and, one day, he’ll come back for me and we’ll kill all the evil demons and I’ll make the world whole again and everyone will want to be my best friend.”

“My horse is your father?” he asked, putting on his best befuddled expression.

“No, silly. Durotan the Hero is,” she giggled. “You named your horse after him because he’s so brave and strong and wise and powerful.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, mock-seriously.

“Durotan, go down the ramp,” she ordered the horse. Jez’ral listened to her with half a mind, his thoughts turning inward. The names ‘Durotan’ and ‘Hellscream’ tickled something in the back of his mind. He gritted his teeth in frustration when he couldn’t force the memories to come up. The knowing that he knew but not knowing was driving him mad. Just as he was about to give up, something moving in the shadow of the structure dominating the Terrace of Light caught his eye. He gasped when he saw a hulking troll, spear-points over his shoulder, strolling towards them. He remembered… ~*~*~*~ “Where I am?” he asked thickly, rubbing his head.

“You are staying in the best accommodations that Zul’Aman has to offer to the quel’dorei,” Mir’el joked. “I must say, this is the nicest cage I’ve ever been put in. Very roomy with a great view of the bonfire and spit we’re going to be roasted on.”

“Please be joking, please be joking, please be joking!” Jez’ral moaned as he opened his eyes. “You’re not joking,” he sighed.

“I told you not to follow me.”

“I didn’t! I fell off that cliff. That’s the last thing I remember.”

“That explains why your nose is broken,” Mir’el sighed. “I thought they had beaten you up. Lay still,” he muttered.

“We have got to get out of here.”

164

“I’m working on that,” Mir’el growled. “At least, I think I can get you out of here.”

“We’re both getting out of here.”

“Jez’ral, I’m not going to fit under the cage,” Mir’el muttered, pulling the other man up so he could see the hole. “I started digging that a few hours ago when they dragged you in here. This is going to be a long shot anyway, but here’s the plan. I’ll summon a demon when the guards change out in about fifteen minutes. I’ll let the thing run amuck; that should pull everyone away from here.”

“Unless, of course, the demon decides to come this way.”

“Try not to be a total pessimist. Anyway, I’ll do that to distract them. You squeeze through there and run out of here. With luck, they won’t be able to find you in the forest.”

“I’m not leaving you here to die.”

“You don’t really have a choice. I want you to get out of here and go back and tell Father something that will assuage his pride. Tell him to adopt Miris; her father will be honored beyond reckoning.”

“Mir’el, what is wrong with you? Are you saying that you want to die?”

“No, I’m saying that I’m just too tired to try to make that hole wide enough for me to fit through and I’ve accepted that this is how I’m going to meet my end.”

“And running off into the forest, leaving me up there on that cliff alone…what was that? Mir’el, stop lying to me! I know you better than anyone in this world. I’ve been following you around since I could crawl. I’m not leaving you out here to die.”

“Jez’ral, for once in your life, just do what I ask and leave.”

“Oh, da pretty elfie be awake,” one of the guards sneered. “I wonder if da pretty elfie scream pretty when we stick him,” he said, reaching over his shoulder for a spear. “He cry like a baby when we find him.”

“Sorry for getting you into this, old friend,” Mir’el sighed. “Hey, broken tusk! Yeah, you, the ugly one,” he shouted at the troll. “Why don’t you come in here and say that to my face?”

“Oh, da other elfie be protectin’ his baby,” the second guard snorted. “You protect little elfie from da mean troll?”

“Can it, big nose. Did anyone ever tell you that you smell like a human?”

“What you say?”

“I said you smell like a human! And look at you, so short there! Was your mother a dwarf?”

“Mir’el, what are you doing?” Jez’ral asked worriedly.

“Getting you out of here,” he said in a hushed whisper. “Yeah, that’s right. I said your mother was a dwarf and your father stank like a human! I’ll bet they conceived you in a pig-pen! That’s why you’re so flabby and too scared to come in here and face us like true warriors!” The troll guards stormed into the hut and ripped open the cage, crowding in, their spears pointed at Mir’el. Jez’ral stared at them in horror, seeing the points of their weapons pressing against Mir’el’s throat on the verge of drawing blood. The other quel’dorei stared them down defiantly, his eyes filled with bitter humor as he continued his barrage of insults.

“Little elfie gonna die,” the troll muttered darkly, throwing his spear to the ground and cracking his knuckles. Mir’el changed his stance, raising his hands as if he was going to wrestle with the big beast. The man closed his eyes and quickly muttered an incantation.

“Little elfie say his prayers?” the troll taunted. His feral eyes went wide when he smelt the scent of a demon behind him. Turning, the trolls gasped in horror at the voidwalker and began backing away from it, backing into the cage and into Mir’el.

“Run now, Jez’ral!”

“Not without you!”

165

“Before they get over their…fear,” Mir’el sighed as the trolls let loose their battle cries and ran at the demon. “Great plan, Mir’el-you-idiot,” he muttered to himself.

“Let’s get out of here before they realize they’ve left the cage open! Come on, Mir’el, we can make it easily!”

“You go. Go now!”

“Very well, old friend,” Jez’ral sighed, standing up. He walked over and stood in front of his friend, putting his hands on Mir’el’s shoulders as if to say good-bye.

“Tell Father I…Jez’ral, what are you doing?” he gasped, choking.

“Like I’d leave you here,” Jez’ral muttered, tightening his grip on Mir’el’s neck, wanting to wring it. When the other man’s eyes rolled back in his head, Jez’ral lifted him over his shoulder and made his way out of the hut. The entire troll village had been called out to fight the voidwalker; none of the trolls so much as glanced in his direction. Whispering a quick prayer of thanksgiving, Jez’ral crept through the shadows to the forest where he began running north, hoping to avoid any humanoids until he’d crossed the border into Quel’Thalas. ~*~*~*~ “Mister, are you okay?” the orc girl asked as they rode the elevator back up to the Scryer’s Tier.

“Oh, what?” Jez’ral asked absently, “I’m fine. Quite well.”

“Whatcha been thinkin’ about?”

“Oh, just remembering something that happened when I was a lad.”

“I thought you had ham-knee-see-ah,” she said reproachfully.

“I do…I did…You know, little girl, I’m not quite sure anymore,” he sighed.

“You took your time,” Alayne muttered as she strode over and lifted the orc child down from the fel steed. “I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost. What’s the matter, Jez’ral? Look, just three more and you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing earlier,” she grimaced, hoping the man wasn’t going to back out of his agreement now.

“Young woman, I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to answer it and Legion take whatever the others said,” he snapped briskly, leaving no room for argument.

Alayne stared up at him; he sounded more like his old self than he had in days. “Why would two elves go into Zul’Aman?”

“A death wish?” she murmured, shrugging. “No one goes there anymore. The Amani shut themselves away after the last war. They don’t like trespassers. Why do you ask?”

“Personal reasons,” he grimaced, trying to recall the rest of the story. “How many more did you say? Three? I’ll hold you to it.” She grinned up at him, a self-satisfied grin that made him do a double-take. He’d seen that expression before. Mulling it over while she sat a draenei boy-child in front of him, he directed the horse with half a mind while glancing over his shoulder at her, trying to remember where he’d seen her smile at him like that before… ~*~*~*~ “They came back last night,” Mir’el rejoiced, his hands on his hips and looking exceptionally proud of himself. Jez’ral glanced up at the other man absently and then turned his attention back to the ledger. “I’ve sent her a note inviting them for supper tonight. We’ll have to clean out the dining room. I’ll go see if the enchantment on the broom is still holding; the dust bunnies have probably developed intelligence since the last time we used it was during Father’s funeral.”

Yes, I remember. This was years later. Master Bor’in had died and Mir’el had sold off most of his family’s estates. He hired me to run the arcanist shop he’d kept. It’d been his way 166

of telling me he forgave me for not letting him die all those years ago. That had been between us for a long time even though he’d never mentioned it…even though…

“We’re low on arcane dust,” Jez’ral muttered as he marked a tally on the page in front of him. “We need to order more from Dalaran. We also need to put out a notice for silverleaf, firebloom, and mageroyal.”

“Did you hear me?”

“You want the dining room cleaned. Why?” he asked, looking up. Mir’el grinned at him, bemused, rolled his eyes and walked away wagging his head. “Whatever,” Jez’ral sighed as he turned back to the inventory.

“They’ll be bringing their little girl. Do we have any toys that a fourteen-month-old could play with?”

“We have a crate of miniature golems that never sold. There may be a few dollies left over from Winter Veil as well. That reminds me,” he said, making a note in the margin of the ledger. “We should definitely order more of those and see if they have different kinds. I couldn’t keep them on the shelves after Hallow’s End.” “Appropriate for a fourteen-month-old, Jez’ral!”

“Well, how the devil should I know?” he snapped. “Shouldn’t the mother know what’s safe for her child? Do not make me stop doing this inventory to come up there and straighten out a mess, Mir’el. We’re already a week late on this because you can’t be serious.

What?”

“I’m going to clean your ears out for you,” Mir’el laughed. “You’ve not been listening to a word I’ve said!” Marching back into the stockroom, he grabbed Jez’ral’s head in his hands and bit his ear affectionately.

“Not in the store, Mir’el! And not while I’m trying to take inventory!”

“I presume I have your attention now,” Mir’el grinned. “Listen closely to the words that are coming out of my mouth,” he droned. “They are coming over for supper. Clean the dining room. Find something to entertain their toddler. She’s fourteen months old.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Jez’ral mumbled, stepping away from the other man.

“Fine, fine. Finish the inventory. I’ll take care of the rest,” Mir’el sighed, striding up to the front of the store. Jez’ral watched him go, laughing silently before turning back to his ledger. Mir’el didn’t care if the store turned a profit or not; he just wanted an excuse to be eccentric. It was up to Jez’ral to see that they actually had things to sell when customers came in. Tiptoeing down to the end of the aisle, he pushed open a chest filled with children’s toys.

Pocketing a miniature golem, one of the human dolls, and an enchanted story-book with talking pictures, he let the chest close silently and wondered what Mir’el would come up with.

“Mir’el? Are you here?” a familiar voice called out from the front of the store.

Jez’ral’s ears twitched as he recognized tones he hadn’t heard in years. “Mir’el? I got your note, Mir’el?”

“Mir’el, customer!” Jez’ral shouted loudly enough to be heard in the apartment above the shop. He giggled when he heard hurried footsteps running down the stairs and out into the store front. Glancing out the curtained door, he watched as Mir’el ran and grabbed Miris up in a fond embrace, twirling the woman around in delight.

“Miris, my dear, you have been missed!” Mir’el laughed. “Where is that husband of yours?”

“Oh, Tal’ar is reporting to the guards this morning. He’s got a meeting with his old Captain about getting his commission back.”

“Captain Remar? I shall speak with him as well. Tal’ar deserves to be restored to his place in the guard force.”

“You’ve already done so much for us, Mir’el.”

167

“Oh, please, Miris. It’s my fault you were banished to begin with. I practically shoved you into Tal’ar’s arms when I saw the way you two looked at each other. I was delighted to hear that the pair of you had run off to Lordaeron and gotten married. I couldn’t believe it when Father had the Council of Silvermoon exile both of you for breach of contract.”

“How is Master Bor’in? Did you ever tell him the truth about why you didn’t want to marry me? Light’s honor, Mir’el, I was stunned when it hit me that he might not have known.”

“Father died earlier this year,” Mir’el said softly. “And, he knew. I think everyone knew. Even Jez’ral knew and he’s a complete dunce!”

“That reminds me,” Jez’ral shouted from the back, “we’re low on enchanting rods as well!”

“Still following him around like a shadow, Jez’ral?” Miris called out fondly.

“Someone’s got to keep him out of trouble! Might as well be me.”

“Jez’ral, I do not get into trouble…” Mir’el protested, setting the man up for their favorite joke.

“Zul’Aman?”

“I got lost. Trees all look the same!”

“Uh-huh. What about sinking the boat in Lake Elrendar?”

“That was not my fault! I was trying to get dry!”

“Wood and fire, idiot! Do you want me to bring up the time we were visiting Dalaran and you…”

“No!” “And let’s not forget when you dragged home a sack of itchweed thinking it was holly! Neither of us could don robes for a week after that!”

“Ah, but that was when we…”

“NOT IN THE STORE, MIR’EL!” Jez’ral yelled, hiding a smile.

“The two of you?” Miris asked Mir’el, gesturing. He smiled and nodded, making her double over with laughter. “I should have expected that one. You’ve been inseparable all the long years I’ve known you. Still, if your father knew, why did he arrange a marriage for you?”

“Because I’m the last of the line,” Mir’el replied. “Unless, of course, I kidnap and adopt that little girl of yours. Where is she? Did you leave her at home?”

“Oh no, she’s right over…Alayne, where are you?” Miris said, her voice rising an octave with worry. “I swear, ever since she started walking, if I set her down for a moment and turn my back… Alayne!”

“I’ll go lock the door,” Mir’el whispered worriedly, hurrying to the entrance and looking to see if the little girl had run outside. Jez’ral turned his attention back to the shelves, shaking his head in irritation when he reached the disordered robe rack. Human sizes were mixed in with elven and dwarven sizes. Setting the ledger on the floor, he rolled his sleeves up and began arranging the rack in its proper order. He frowned when one of the smaller human robes hung up when he tried to lift it. Tugging, he felt a gentle resistance, as if something were holding on to the hem. Shoving the other robes aside, he jumped in fright when he saw a tiny fist gripping the hem of the robes. Shaking his head, he bent down to see a toddler hiding among the fabric, staring at him with large blue eyes.

“Hewwo,” she said gravely.

“Hello,” he replied. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”

She blinked at him, looking confused. “I walk,” she said proudly, standing up and demonstrating.

168

“Very nice,” he muttered, hanging the robes where they belonged and quickly rearranging the rest of the rack. Bending down to scoop up his ledger, he saw that she was sitting in the middle of the aisle, one of her shoes pulled off in her hand as she waved it around. “You should go to your mother.”

“Up?” she asked, lifting her hands over her head.

“I suppose I’ll have to unless I want to trip over you. I’m Jez’ral,” he winked, picking her up and balancing her on his hip.

“Jesthal?”

“Close enough. Miris, I think I found something of yours back here,” he laughed as he set the ledger on a lower shelf and reached up to shove the jars of wintersbite aside as he counted them, noting that they would probably need more as soon as the plant came back into season.

“Jesthal, what that?” she asked, pointing.

“Wintersbite.”

“Winnersithe,” she repeated, making his lips quirk in an amused smile.

“Jez’ral, have you seen…Miris, I think I found her,” Mir’el said, heaving a sigh of relief. The woman came running, crashing into Mir’el in her haste and putting a trembling hand over her chest when she saw her daughter clinging to Jez’ral.

“Alayne, what have I told you about running off?” Miris said breathlessly.

“Mama,” Alayne grinned, pointing at the jars on the shelf, “winnersithe.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral shook his head as if to clear it, wondering if his suspicions were correct. “That can’t be Alayne,” he muttered beneath his breath. “Can it? The little girl who used to come in and make a mess of Mir’el’s shop all the time? The one who chased a miniature golem all over his house that evening and scared us all to death when we couldn’t find her? Then made us laugh when her father did find her curled up, sucking her thumb, asleep beneath Master Bor’in’s old desk?”

He reached down into his pocket, feeling a sudden surge of heat burning the side of his leg. The vial of clear water glowed, pulsating, emitting a strange sense of power and tranquility. “Are you the one making me remember?” he asked the vial, causing the draenei child in front of him to look up in confusion. “Whatever you are, bless you,” he whispered, pocketing it again, wincing and wishing his robes were thicker as the heat from the vial burned his leg. ~*~*~*~ Alayne sighed as she brushed her hair and glanced at the window. The sun had long since set. Ger’alin and the others still had not returned. She’d lingered over supper, picking at her food until Tau’re threatened to tell Ger’alin she’d not been eating. Pulling the window closed, she sighed and sat down on the bed, her arms crossed over her stomach and one finger tapping idly against her other arm. “I guess they had to stay in Nagrand,” she sighed finally, letting her head lean back against the wall. “I…hope they’re all well. I have the strangest feeling that…”

“Alayne!”

“Ger’alin?” she said, sitting up and looking around quickly. “Where are you?”

Striding over to the door, she pulled it open and ducked her head out, glancing up and down the hallway. “Jez’ral,” she asked, seeing the man heading to his room, “did you hear anything just now?”

169

“No, Alayne, I didn’t,” he said, grinning at her.

“I must be hearing things,” she muttered to herself.

“Yes, Alayne, you must be,” he agreed.

“Good night, Jez’ral,” she sighed, turning back towards her room.

“Good night, Alayne,” he said, placing emphasis on her name. He blinked in confusion when she closed the door behind her. He’d been so certain she was that little girl whom he’d begun to recall. There was so much he wanted to tell her, to see if he was remembering correctly; some he prayed he was remembering wrongly. Breathing out through his nostrils in frustration, he stumped down the hallway, turning when he heard a door creak open behind him.

“Um, Jez’ral?” she asked, looking a little embarrassed. “Did you just call me ‘Alayne?’”

“I did.”

“So, you remember me?”

“I do!” he laughed. “I remember so much about you now!”

“Like what?” she asked, a broad grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“That you hate flying, for one thing. Oh, and that you could crunch away rock candies like no other child I’d ever known. You were a real biter when you were little,” he said, laughing when she blushed. “Your poor mother and father didn’t know what to do when you started gnawing the furniture! Mir’el used to keep a whole jar of wintersbite and earthroot set aside for you when you were teething. I remember when you used to come in our store…”

“Wait, that was you? You’re Jesthal?”

“Yes! And Mir’el is Murl!”

“Oh Light! I never thought…I had wondered what happened to you! Mother used to take me into your store all the time if I was good. Then, one day, I noticed we hadn’t been there in a while even though I’d been really good and she said that you two had had to go away to fight the orcs and demons. Why didn’t you say anything when you found me in Menethil?” she demanded gleefully, walking over and pinching the man on the arm.

“I…I don’t remember that,” he admitted, putting a momentary damper on the conversation. “I do remember you chasing a miniature golem all over Mir’el’s house, though.

I set it on the floor in front of you and you poked at it, not quite certain what to make of it, getting bored with it quite quickly when it didn’t do anything. Then, Mir’el muttered the word to make it start and it stood up and poked you back. You and it traded pokes for a while until you stood up and waddled off a bit, trying to climb on your father’s leg. The golem followed you so you started jogging; it chased you. You chortled and squealed and ran circles around the room, trying to get away from it but always stopping to see if it was still following you. Then I whispered the word that made it lurch off on its own and you chased it all over the house shouting ‘Hey sop, you!’”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember that at all,” Alayne giggled.

“Not surprising. You weren’t even a year and a half old.”

“I wonder why your memories are coming back now?” she mused, tapping a finger against her nose as she stared at her former teacher.

“I don’t know, but I suspect this is helping,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the vial of clear liquid. Alayne plucked it from his hand, juggling it until she could work her sleeve over her palm. “It’s warm, I know.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you would.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said. “It looks like water but it feels like…it feels like some form of arcane energy. Not the usual kind that you find in the wild; something more potent, more pure. Or, at least it did,” she muttered, staring at the vial in consternation.

170

It had gone cool again and the power emanating from it seemed to have evaporated. She knew she had seen it before but could not recall where or in what context. “I suppose you should keep this with you. We’ll take it to one of the Magisters tomorrow. Perhaps they’ll know more about it.”

“I hope so,” he nodded, pocketing the vial once more. “Good night, Alayne,” he grinned.

“Good night, Jesthal.” ~*~*~*~ “Sweetheart, it’s just a dream,” Alayne groaned, reaching over to pat Ger’alin on the back. She jerked up quickly when her hand landed on the mattress. “But…I could have sworn…that’s it,” she said resolutely. “It’s finally happened. I’ve gone completely crazy.”

“Alayne?” Jez’ral asked, poking his head into the room. “Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “I just couldn’t get any sleep at all last night with him gone. Every time I’d nod off, I swear, I would hear him call my name or moan and I’d be wide awake again.”

“That’s good,” he said, sounding troubled, “because I may have just inadvertently started a small war just a few moments ago.”

“What?” she said flatly, sitting up and throwing her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes bored into his relentlessly, demanding an explanation.

“You remember that vial of water I showed you last night? Well, I took it to…Voren’thal? Yes, Voren’thal. He said it seemed to have some kind of very special arcane energy and suggested I show it to A’dal, that big glowing thing,” Alayne nodded impatiently, standing up and walking over in front of him, her arms crossed and her expression carefully and obviously too patient. “A’dal said that it had – he had? – heard of such a thing before but it was a long time ago and back on our world, not here in Outland.”

“Get to the part about the war,” Alayne grimaced.

“I’m getting to it,” he sighed defensively. “Well, while I was standing there, talking…er…thinking? I don’t know how to describe it! Communicating with A’dal, this strange blue elf with ears that give me a headache just thinking about them came up and tried to snatch it out of my hand. He started yelling at me, accusing me of being in league with Illidan, which, I guess is a bad thing? He said that I was carrying around water from some eternal well or something that destroyed the world. Anyway, A’dal managed to convince everyone who had gathered around at this point that I wasn’t in league with Illidan and I decided to make good my escape. They chased me all the way back up here, shouting things I don’t understand at all. Only the golems and the guards managed to keep them from following me further and, there’s still quite a riot going on outside.”

“Eternal well? LIGHT OF HEAVEN AND BLESSED ANCESTORS!” Alayne roared.

“Jez’ral, where is it? Is it safe? Do you still have it?”

“I gave it to Voren’thal’s assistant. When I told the old man what A’dal had said, I think he had some kind of fit.”

“Jez’ral, right now, I don’t know whether to be glad that you have no idea what you were carrying around or to kill you for not knowing what it was,” she snarled, her tone at complete odds with the delighted look on her face. “Water from the Well of Eternity,” she breathed. “With that…we could re-ignite the Sunwell! There’d be no need for Kael to continue down the mad path he’s taken. This could all be over and we could go home, where we belong. Oh, I know, I know,” she sighed fondly, reaching up to pat him on the cheek and smiling through her tears at his bewildered expression, “you don’t remember any of that.

171

None of it makes sense to you. Don’t worry, Jez’ral. You’ll stay here and be safe from all the trouble. I’m going to go out and see…see what can be done now.”

Alayne glided down the hallway and out of the inn into a scene of chaos. She stared, appalled at the fighting washing over the normally tranquil Tier. “Var’thanos!” she shouted, seeing the night elf who had been so amused to ‘correct her erring ways’ in Zangarmarsh.

“What are you doing?”

“You blood-borne…we should have executed all of you instead of letting you set sail to further destruction and the damnation of us all!” he shrieked, trying to push his way past the arcane guardians. Alayne gasped in horror as she watched her people battle against their attackers. Wading into the fight, she began flinging her spells, using them to sap the fight from the others regardless of side, wincing when one landed on someone she considered a friend.

“Stop this now!” she shouted as much to her own comrades as to those who had invaded the Tier. “Shattrath is a sanctuary! Stop fighting!” Drawing on her reserve, she wrenched her succubus out of the Nether and ordered the demon to pacify the enraged night elf without harming him.

“You!” the night elf screamed, shaking his head and trying to ignore the demoness’s seductive snares, “I had thought you were one of the wiser ones! You are as corrupt as your ancestors!”

“And you are as foolish and cowardly as yours!” a young sin’dorei yelled, a ball of fire erupting from his hands. Alayne jumped in front of it in time to take the heat in the back instead of it exploding in the night elf’s face. She rolled across the ground, too stunned from the blow to try to catch herself before she fell. Coming to a stop on her stomach, her body twitching and her back a mass of burns, she prayed that the arcane guardians wouldn’t crush her underfoot.

“Please, for the love of the Light, stop,” she croaked hoarsely while all around her the riot continued. “Please, no, stop,” she moaned, feeling strong hands grabbing her arms and dragging her across the pavement, away from the front lines. She tried to scramble to her feet and fell back to her knees, shivering as if the cool evening air were the heart of a frozen winter. Glancing up at her rescuer, she sighed. “Tau’re, you’ve got to…”

“I’m trying,” he muttered. “I’ve been trying to calm everyone down since the riot started an hour ago. We almost had it in hand until some hot-headed rogue tried to break in to the library and steal back the Vial.”

“Why didn’t you come and wake me when it started?” she demanded wearily.

“Because, though he may be shorter and smaller than me, your husband has a mean left-hook and he told me that if I didn’t take care of you while he was gone, he would use my hide as a rug in that house you’re building. Now, quit struggling and let me look at these burns.”

“They’re arcane burns,” Alayne mumbled. “You’d need Zerith or Dar’ja to heal them in a reasonable amount of time. I’ll be fine,” she continued, making it to her feet, albeit unsteadily, and pushing away from the tauren. He followed her closely, wishing he could just grab hold of her but fearing touching her burnt back until one of the healers was available.

Alayne ignored the fighting, walking over to one of the slender trees. Gathering herself, she leapt up, grasped one of the smaller, thinner branches, and jerked down, breaking it away.

Nodding in satisfaction, she waded back into the fray, foregoing her magic in favor of clubbing anyone fighting over the head with her new staff. Anyone foolish enough to touch her back got a double-helping of the club. Tau’re hovered behind her, not too near, and shook his head with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Stop fighting, everyone!” she screamed.

Before long, she was the only one still fighting. Lowering her makeshift staff, she saw that

172

the Aldor Vindicators and the Shattrath city guard had finally arrived, cordoning off the rioters and quelling them with fists or threats – whichever worked to the greatest effect.

“What is going on here, blood elf?” one of the Vindicators demanded roughly, grabbing Alayne by the bicep and wrenching her arm behind her back. He relaxed his grip when he saw her burns but the impatient anger in his tone did not slacken by a hair. “I said what is going on? Who started this?”

“They’re harboring a power that could destroy us all!” Var’thanos shouted. “Make them turn it over to us; we can dispose of it safely.”

“We’re not harboring anything!” Alayne protested. “We found it and we have as much right to it as you!”

“What are you two talking about?” the Vindicator demanded, his blue face purpling with anger.

“A vial of water from a source called the Well of Eternity,” Alayne answered quickly. “Once, it was a great source of pure arcane energies back in our world. One of our common ancestors, Azshara…”

“That witch is no ancestor of mine! I fought her alongside Cenarius, Malfurion, and Tyrande!”

“One of our common ancestors and her followers,” Alayne continued as if she had not been interrupted, “abused the Well’s power and were lured into summoning minions of the Burning Legion into our world. They attempted to summon Sargeras as well.”

“Don’t leave out the satyrs and Xavius, foul demon-monger! Don’t look so innocent, witch! You know of what I speak!”

“I have no clue what he’s talking about now,” she muttered in an aside to the Vindicator. “Satyrs are demons. My father and mother used to tell me tales of disobedient children being kidnapped and turned into demons by satyrs. I didn’t even believe they were real until I saw them with my own eyes.”

“So, you admit to harboring a source of arcane power that, from the way this riot has leapt up, sounds very deadly,” the Vindicator said, cutting to the chase. Alayne nodded wearily. “What do you plan to do with this thing?”

“Keep it safe; let it stay with those of my people who are older and wiser. We would not use it to cause harm to this city or its people, that I swear under the Light!”

“It cannot be trusted with these arcane addicts! It belongs rightfully to our people,” Var’thanos shouted, shoving his way through the cordon. The Vindicator holding Alayne nodded, ordering the others to let the man pass through. “It is our curse; turn it over to us and we will destroy it.”

“No!” Alayne shouted. “Are you mad? Can it even be destroyed? We discussed this before, you and I…” “Shut your mouth, child-witch!”

“You can’t destroy it! Your people haven’t practiced the arcane arts for millennia.

You could wind up unleashing destruction by meddling with it.”

“I will not speak with you anymore,” he spat, turning his attention to the Vindicator.

“These blood elves have caused nothing but problems throughout their entire history. They cannot – must not – be allowed to keep this Vial,” he began, outlining the sin’dorei’s history from his perspective. Alayne twisted futilely in the Vindicator’s grasp, struggling not to reach up and smack the night elf across his arrogant face.

“I see,” the Vindicator said once the kaldorei finished his tale. “We’ve walked into the midst of a millennia-old family feud,” he sighed, irritating both kaldorei and sin’dorei with his words. “Since this Vial has disturbed the peace of our city, I am ordering it turned over to the naaru. Certainly no one would consider them to be unwise stewards. You may put

173

your case to A’dal. He will decide what to do about it and you will accept his decision.

Where is it?” he asked, shaking Alayne.

“I…you can’t do this! It is ours by right!”

“It’s safe,” came a thin, reedy reply. Alayne looked up to see Voren’thal descending the stairs of the library, leaning heavily on one of the Magisters. “It is everything that man says it is and more,” he continued. “I will give it to A’dal myself after I have consulted with him. In return, I ask only this; that any other Vials containing such water be turned over to the naaru as well. Not destroyed or hidden away,” he said, glaring at Var’thanos. “Your people survived by hiding themselves away and refusing to wield their power. That worked only so long as the Legion did not come for you. It was doomed to fail the moment that humans became sensitive to the arcane…”

“Which was your fault…”

“They were sensitive to it before we taught them. Had we left them alone, they would have developed spellcraft and arcane studies on their own. Yes, it would have taken them much longer, but it still would have happened. Look at the gnomes, the trolls…we passed nothing on to them, yet they wield arcane currents as deftly as any human.” The night elf’s face darkened when he could not speak out against that truth. “Had your people bothered to listen to our ancestors, you would have known that we learned our lesson from the Sundering.

We erected great warding stones to hide our existence from demons. For generations, they worked. And now, here we are again, toe to toe against the Legion. How will you defeat them? How can you withstand their magics, their powers? Druidism can only protect you so far when nature itself has been devastated.”

“It is agreed, then,” Var’thanos spat. “I will speak with the others but any of ours who stumbles across these cursed Vials will turn them over to the naaru. I pray to Elune that she will guide them to a wise and just decision.”

Slowly, the rioters began to drift away. Alayne chewed her lower lip worriedly, giving the elder sin’dorei sidelong looks from the corner of her eye. When the last of the brawlers melted away, Voren’thal turned back and began to climb up the stairs. Pausing for a moment, he turned and looked at her. “A’dal will know what is best. Too many here would see such a thing as a tool in their plans. Better to turn it over – even temporarily – until things are more settled. Still,” he sighed, “were I a young sin’dorei like yourself, I might consider finding someone to help me lead that small army that came with me. Someone to whom the orcs will listen. Who knows how long this peace will hold if the naaru decide they do not wish to guard our problem?”

Alayne waited until the elder was at the top of the stairs before turning and jogging back to the inn. Jez’ral sat in the main room, looking troubled. She stopped and spoke with him quickly, explaining what she must do and that she would be returning shortly.

Exchanging brief words with Tau’re, she let the tauren follow her to her room and smear a cooling, soothing salve on her burnt back. Changing her robes after he left, she wished that the bodice were looser. Moments later, she was aboard her fel steed, galloping south to the Bone Wastes and wondering how she could convince her brother and husband to give up on Garrosh for now and return to Shattrath before the riots broke out again. ~*~*~*~ “Alayne!” Ger’alin groaned, twisting and writhing on the pallet, sweat beading on his forehead and his eyes glazed with fever.

“Calm down, Ger’alin,” Dar’ja whispered, her voice pitched low. Even that seemed to be too loud for the other sin’dorei; he moaned and covered his ears with his hands,

174

shuddering as if in great pain. “Try to go back to sleep,” she murmured even more softly.

“Zerith and Callie will be back as soon as they can and then we’ll all return to Shattrath.”

“They’re everywhere!” he shrieked. “I can feel them, see them, even with my eyes closed! They whisper…it’s driving me mad!”

“You’re just having a reaction to…”

“Make them stop, Dar’ja! Please, for the love of the Light!” he sobbed. The woman pursed her lips, biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from weeping herself. The sight of the normally strong, healthy, confident-to-the-point-of-arrogance man in front of her brought so low that he wept like a child at things that were not real wrung her heart. Reaching out, she gently brushed his hair away from his forehead and tried healing him once again. Sighing in defeat when nothing happened, she wished, for once, that Zerith was not the leader of their band. He was so much more gifted than she with healing; perhaps he could have eased Ger’alin’s pain enough to let poor man sleep. “Dar’ja, I’ll do anything, just make it stop!”

“I’m sorry, Ger’alin. I’ve done everything I can,” she said, her voice no louder than a gentle gust of air. “Try drinking some of this potion that Zerith left for you. He said it would help you sleep.” She rolled her eyes in anger at her own forgetfulness when the man began heaving. Mention of eating or drinking was enough to set him off. Thankfully, the fit was over in seconds; he didn’t have much left in his stomach.

“Alayne!” he moaned fretfully once he’d collapsed back on the pallet.

“She’s still in Shattrath. We’ll be going back there as soon as you’re well.”

“Go away, go away, go away!” he wailed in frustration, closing his eyes as tightly as he could bear to. “Alayne? Alayne!”

“I’m here,” came a very quiet, very still voice from the door of the room.

“Alayne, what are you doing here?” Dar’ja whispered. “Please tell me you didn’t bring Jez’ral with you.”

“He’s still in Shattrath. Tau’re and the others will look after him. Grandmother told me what happened here. Ger’alin?” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she knelt down by the pallet and took his hand in her own.

“I…I can…all around you…I see…,” he shivered.

“He’s having a reaction to…,” Dar’ja started to say, cutting off when Alayne raised one of her hands for silence.

“And the ghosts?” she continued in the same tone, her expression unreadable.

Ger’alin nodded wearily. “Around her?” she asked, pointing at Dar’ja. He glanced and winced, covering his eyes with his free hand and squeezing Alayne’s until the bones in her fingers creaked. “Dar’ja, will you leave the room, please?” she requested mildly. “I can help him, I think, but I don’t want you to hear this. Light’s honor and truth, I don’t want him to hear it either.”

“What are you talking about? The effects of the potion he drank will wear off eventually,” the other woman muttered in confusion.

“Not for a while, I think,” Alayne said flatly. “Months, if not years before his heightened sensitivity fades completely. He’ll have to learn to live with it. If it is, as I suspect, something akin to certain things I’ve learned in my travels, then I can help him with that. If not…at least I can be here with him.”

“Alayne, I’d really like an explanation,” Dar’ja whispered. “And, why are you here?

Couldn’t stand being away from him another day?” she teased. The warlock shot the paladin a withering look and pointed to the door. The other woman sighed, raised her hands in surrender, and left the room. She closed the door behind her and stood staring at it, wishing she could decipher the hushed murmurings she could hear through the wooden frame.

Whatever Alayne was saying to him seemed to be calming him down. Ger’alin no longer groaned or shrieked in terror. When the whispers died out into silence, Dar’ja began 175

wondering if she was wasting her time waiting outside. Just as she was about to push open the door to see if they slept, it sprang open, a waxen-faced Alayne staring off into the distance as if something had been torn away from her and she was powerless to do anything about it. “Alayne, what…”

“I will not tell you,” she said firmly, still staring. “It is not something you or anyone else should ever know. At least it worked for him.”

“Fine then,” Dar’ja sighed irritably. “If you won’t tell me about whatever is going on with him, at least tell me why you’ve come out here. Were you worried about us?”

“No. When we defeated Vashj, Jez’ral found something on her: a vial of water. Only, this is no ordinary vial of ordinary water. This is a vial of water from the Well of Eternity.

How she came to possess it I have no idea. Perhaps it is a naga matter. But, once it was discovered, riots broke out all over Shattrath. The night elves demanded that it be handed over to them for disposal. Our people want to keep it because it could help us with our addiction. Frankly, I think we have the right to it,” she said bitterly, “but Voren’thal is planning to hand it over to the naaru, to A’dal.”

“And this couldn’t have waited until we got back because?”

“Because the naaru are not going to accept it. I know they won’t, Dar’ja,” she shivered, glancing back at the doorway, “Or, even if they do, there could still be riots. When I left, things were calmer but the fighting could spring up any moment now. I didn’t want to drag the whole Disorder of Azeroth out here and I can hardly make them see reason and not red whenever they look at the night elves or their allies. I…had hoped that Ger’alin or Zerith would return to Shattrath with me to help me keep things calm.” Light, I was hoping one of them could make me think this whole sense of déjà vu is nothing serious, she thought to herself. Aloud, she continued, “And…I’ve been thinking. What if Kael finds out we have this Vial? What if he comes for it? Could we stand against him or would we all die?”

“Alayne, get a grip on yourself,” Dar’ja said, grabbing the other woman lightly by the arms and forcing her to look her in the eyes. “Zerith and Callie had to return to Orgrimmar to speak with Thrall. Ger’alin’s…not well. That leaves you and me to try to lead a small army.

Would they listen to you?”

“Barely. I managed to send the worst of the hot-heads back to Zangarmarsh. I lied and told them I thought there might be other vials in the caverns where we fought Vashj. Those who remained…well, they seemed to hear me out but most wanted to come here, get Zerith and Ger’alin, and start planning a battle the likes of which Shattrath hasn’t seen since before the destruction of Draenor,” Alayne sighed, clenching her fists in frustration. “And, the worst part of it is, I want to let them! It’s ours, Dar’ja! Ours by right! We fought Vashj, we took it from her – or, at least, Jez’ral did. Its magic was restoring his memory! Its power could reignite the Sunwell! We have lost so much...I…they can’t take this last hope from us!” she sobbed, collapsing in a heap on the floor. “Oh, Light, why can’t someone tell me what to do or how I’m supposed to feel?” she cried bitterly. “I can’t do this on my own! What I want and what must be done are tearing me in two directions!”

“Alayne,” Dar’ja said firmly, softly. “I…wish I knew what to say to help you, sister, but I don’t.” Kneeling down and holding the woman by the shoulders, Dar’ja continued in the same tone, “All of us pray that the Sunwell will shine once again. You’re telling me that we are on the verge of that actually happening and that the chance might be lost…that makes me angry. It makes me want to go back to Shattrath and take that Vial and Legion take the consequences! But…we can’t. We must trust the naaru. They are wise and puissant. They will know what to do.”

Alayne nodded dumbly, tears still trickling down her cheeks. “Go in there with him,” Dar’ja suggested. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, take him back to Shattrath with you. He can help you keep things from boiling over until Zerith gets back.”

176

“You’re right,” Alayne sighed. Dar’ja smiled sadly and wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law, her eyes widening when Alayne stiffened and gasped in her embrace. The warlock pulled away and grinned sheepishly as she undid the buttons of her robe, letting the bodice fall open in the back to expose her burns. Sucking in a breath through her teeth as the chilly evening air touched them, Alayne whispered, “I told you, there was fighting before I left Shattrath.” Dar’ja nodded, her eyes bulging, and gently laid her hands on Alayne’s back.

Letting the Light flow through her, she smiled as the burns faded and vanished beneath her ministrations. Alayne sighed with relief and stood to go back into the room. Pausing in the doorway, she turned and looked at Dar’ja, chewing her bottom lip in thought. “Don’t say anything to…about the burns, please. I don’t want him to feel guilty that he couldn’t help me this time.” ~*~*~*~ Dar’ja sighed and stretched, blinking when her hand brushed against something warm and solid. Turning her head, she grinned when she saw her husband’s back facing her and heard his gentle snoring. Sitting up and grabbing his shoulder, she rolled him on his back and shook him awake. “When did you get back?” she laughed.

“Just before dawn,” he muttered tiredly. “What is Alayne doing here?”

“She came looking for you and Ger’alin.”

“Why’d she do that?” he yawned, blinking his eyes and nearly nodding off back to sleep. Dar’ja laid back down on her side, facing him, rubbing his cheek and feeling the stubble of a day’s growth on his jaw. “Dar’ja, why?” he asked again.

“It’s a long story, sweetheart. Why didn’t you wake me when you got back?”

“I couldn’t. You were out cold. You didn’t even wake up when Callie came in here screeching that Alayne was here. Are you feeling well? You normally don’t sleep so soundly unless you’re under a lot of pressure. Did something happen that Alayne told you about that has you upset?”

“I’ll tell you about it when you’ve gotten more sleep,” she sighed.

“No, you’ll tell me about it now,” he growled, reaching over and pinning her down.

“You’re the one who woke me up. Tell me while I’m awake so I can go back to sleep or you are going to be my new mattress.”

“Alayne’s here because she wanted you and Ger’alin to come back to Shattrath with her and try to keep a war from breaking out since it seems that Jez’ral found a vial of water from the Well of Eternity and everyone wants it turned over to them,” Dar’ja said quickly, well aware that Zerith really would lay across her and go to sleep. While she normally didn’t mind this, her nose wrinkled a bit as she realized her husband needed a bath.

“Right. I’m still asleep,” he muttered, dropping back down and pulling the pillow over his head. “This is the strangest dream I’ve ever had.”

“How did it go in Orgrimmar?” Dar’ja asked, laying down flat and lifting the edge of the pillow up so he could look her in the eye. He gave her a cantankerous glance before sighing.

“Thrall is on his way out here. I thought it was going to throttle Callie when she told him about his grandmother. He’s also looking forward to meeting Hellscream’s son. I think the plan is for him to come here tonight. The Darkspear magi were working on setting up a temporary portal when we left. When I told him about Garrosh refusing to assume leadership of the Mag’har, Thrall said he would take care of it. He’s very pleased to hear that the orcs of Outland no longer suffer from demonic bloodlust and has promised all sin’dorei who will take an oath of fealty to the Horde his protection. He seemed pleased to learn about Voren’thal and the Scryers and wants to speak with the naaru personally. So, I suppose you 177

could say it went well, except for the bit where he picked Callie up by the throat and growled that he wanted no part of Sylvanas’s games – whatever that means. Not, of course, that any of that holds a candle to your ‘Jez’ral found water from the Well of Eternity’ story. Really, that one’s a doozy.”

“Do you think Alayne would make something like that up?” Dar’ja asked worriedly.

“No. I just think that my life got a lot more complicated than it ever needed to be. All I wanted was to come out here and keep her out of trouble, have a little fun, make a few memories, and then sink back into Silvermoon and work on starting our family. I know, I know; you’re not going to hit your fertile cycle for another few years at least. Still, it’s fun trying. It’s all right, dearest,” he sighed, smiling when she reached under the pillow to stroke the side of his face. “I had a feeling, back when I first saw her on Sunstrider Isle, that she would make my life interesting. She certainly has. How’s Ger’alin?”

“Where is she? Where is that wonderful woman who knows everything? Alayne, I want you to have my children right now!” came Ger’alin’s booming voice as he ran through the hut looking for her.

“Right,” Zerith sighed. “Wake me when the world regains its sanity, would you?” ~*~*~*~ Alayne twisted her fingers nervously, wondering how things were back in Shattrath.

She and Ger’alin had ridden back that morning and gathered in the Disorder of Azeroth and Jez’ral. The riots had reignited once the naaru had named Voren’thal as the one they wished to vouchsafe the Vial. The Scryers and the Aldor, working together for once, had the Vial secured, for the time. The two sin’dorei hoped that by removing the Disorder of Azeroth from the city, the fighting would die out. It turned out to be a good thing that they had. As afternoon faded into evening, the magi and warlocks had begun to sense a tingle of energy outside of Garadar. Watching the goings-on intently, Alayne worried her lower lip, wishing she could still weave the arcane currents that were shimmering around as the portal from Orgrimmar opened. Zerith and Ger’alin stood on either side of the opening gateway, both dressed in their finest. Dar’ja had spent long moments tugging on Zerith’s stole to make it hang exactly as she wanted it. Alayne grinned and looked at her hands; she and Ger’alin had spent hours polishing his armor until it gleamed. She sighed as she glanced down, wishing that the “gift” Jez’ral had given her had been from anyone other than Mir’el.

“Be welcome to Nagrand, Warchief,” Zerith said formally as Thrall stepped through the portal. “Garrosh has provided an escort befitting your rank,” he continued, gesturing to the wolf-riders lined up along the road. Thrall gave them a brief nod and a quick salute before signaling for the sin’dorei to get on with it. “Follow me and I will take you to Madam Geyah,” Zerith sighed. Ger’alin turned on his heels and signaled for the others to fall in behind Thrall. Alayne, Callie, and Dar’ja exchanged quick grins as they fell in with the others. Ger’alin had drilled them all afternoon. The orcs seemed impressed by how orderly the normally chaotic group could be. Alayne sighed again, recalling how Ger’alin’s ability to whip the Disorder of Azeroth into formation had been yet another nail in the coffin of Garrosh’s leadership. The orc chieftain seemed even more firmly convinced that the elf was better suited to lead than he. Marching into the village, Alayne tried to glance around those ahead of her to see what Thrall was doing.

The Mag’har orcs were lining up and saluting the Warchief of the Horde as he passed by, many of the younger ones staring after him in barely concealed awe. According to Geyah, her son, Durotan, was something of a legend to the Mag’har. Rumors had been flying about Garadar ever since Zerith and Callie had returned. As the orderly lines snaked around the central bonfire, Alayne saw Garrosh go down on his knees, his fist pressed to the ground, in 178

front of Thrall. “Warchief,” he said gruffly, “on behalf of the Mag’har, the unworthy son of the cursed Hellscream welcomes you.”

“Unworthy? Cursed?” Thrall said, taken completely aback. “On your feet, young man.” Garrosh stood, meeting Thrall’s eyes reluctantly. The Horde chieftain sucked in a breath, his shock audible to those in the back of the line. “You are the mirror image of your father. There is much I have to tell you of him and his legacy after I speak with my grandmother. Where is she?”

“She awaits you in her home, over there,” Garrosh said glumly, turning to point to the small hut. “I will remain here and await your judgment.” Thrall stared at the young orc in confusion but said nothing. Disdaining Zerith and Ger’alin’s escort, he strode over to Geyah’s hut.

“Ranks dismissed,” Ger’alin said firmly in a carrying tone. “That could have gone better,” he muttered, glancing back and forth between Garrosh and Geyah’s hut.

“Garrosh, what…,” Zerith began, stopping when the orc waved him off. Ger’alin placed a hand on the priest’s shoulder, gripping it firmly in commiseration before he turned to look for Alayne. His wife stood over by the fire, warming her hands and pulling her cloak about her more tightly. Jez’ral hovered near her, looking as if he wanted to ask her something but afraid of getting his nose snapped off. As Ger’alin began walking towards the pair, Callie rushed up to him.

“I just finished speaking with some soldiers from Shadowmoon Valley,” she began without prologue. “Illidan has increased his attacks against everyone tenfold. The Dragonmaw are barely holding on; their fortress is under constant bombardment.”

“All the more reason to hope that something good comes of this family reunion,” Ger’alin sighed. “Do you ever find yourself missing your family, Callie?”

“Yes,” she said simply. “I often hope that they’ll break free of the necromancers and regain their independence. That is…if they’re still in existence. Even we die, eventually, Ger’alin. What about you?”

“Some but not as much as I used to,” he admitted. “I have a new family, now,” he said, gesturing to include Callie, Alayne, Zerith, and Dar’ja.

“That’s got to be the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in a while,” Callie grinned.

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch,” he laughed. “I meant it.”

“What are you two talking about over here?” Alayne asked lightly, siding up to Ger’alin and straightening his cape. Ger’alin picked her up in a bear hug, grinning and winking at Callie when Alayne started kicking and pushing away. “Ger’alin,” she said primly, smiling, “plate is cold.”

“I’ll fix that later,” he muttered, setting her back down. “We were just talking about family and…what was that for?” he asked, bending down to rub his ankle. Callie threw back her head and laughed at Alayne as she hopped about on one foot, cursing beneath her breath about needing to remember that plate was also not something she wanted to kick.

“Please don’t make me repeat the conversation we had to have about the difference between elven women and human women. It was embarrassing enough the first time,” Alayne said, her cheeks heating.

“Oh, Light, we weren’t talking about having a family. We were talking about family in general. It’s a natural enough subject what with Thrall being reunited with his grandmother. Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. My toes are a little angry with me right now. I just hope that something good comes of this family reunion,” she said, exhaling.

“Will you two…,” Callie said, rolling her eyes.

179

“It’s not on purpose!” they said in unison. Alayne’s face turned a darker shade of red and her lips quivered as she fought to hold back her laughter. Ger’alin just stared at her for a moment before throwing back his head and letting his own laughter echo through the still late-evening air.

“You two were strange before you got married,” Callie said with elaborate and amused disdain. “Now, you’re just down-right weird.”

Ger’alin managed to get his laughter under control and was about to respond when a loud cry from Geyah’s hut cut him off. Whirling around, he started striding over, Alayne and Callie on his heels and Zerith and Dar’ja heading the same direction. The door of the hut flew open with a bang and a grief-stricken Thrall stood in the doorway, his anguished gaze focused on Garrosh. Ger’alin glanced around the Warchief, sighing with relief to see Geyah kneeling next to her hearth, watching Thrall with tears in her eyes. “You never knew?” he asked. Garrosh looked at him in confusion. “You never knew that your father was one of our greatest heroes?”

“Hero? Hero?! He was responsible for the destruction of everything we hold dear! My cursed father drank…”

“He did. Grom did many things that were wrong. But, in the end, he freed us all from the bloodlust. Here,” Thrall said, sounding pained, “I will show you…” ~*~*~*~ Alayne blinked as she found herself hovering over a dusty, desolate plain. The stench of sour wood-smoke and sulfur assaulted her nostrils, making her gag. A breeze stirred the ash on the ground, sending tendrils of it swirling through the air. Turning her gaze further down the plain, she could see two orc warriors approaching. The eyes of the elder were tinged with red, a sign of the curse that came from drinking demon blood. The younger looked around uncertainly, gripping his enormous hammer and sniffing the wind for the scent of his prey. Alayne gasped when she heard a foul, evil laugh and saw the warriors turn to face their enemy.

A hulking pit lord rose out of the dust of the plain. He laughed, a twisted, amused laugh, and pointed at the pair. “So predictable,” he chuckled, his voice echoing through the empty canyon. “I knew you would come. And I see you’ve brought the mighty Hellscream.

His blood is mine,” the demon said savagely, “as is your whole misbegotten race!”

The younger orc could take it no longer. Alayne could practically feel his outrage, his anger. Sprinting as quickly as his legs would carry him, the warrior threw himself at the demon, hefting his mighty hammer as he aimed a blow at the pit lord’s midsection. The demon flicked the warrior away with a lazy swipe, chuckling in true amusement as the orc rolled across the rocky floor of the canyon, coming to a halt in front of his companion. The older orc’s eyes widened in horror and tears of grief and rage began to trickle down his craggy green cheeks. “The boy believed you could be saved, but he didn't know what burns within your soul when in your heart, you know we are the same!” the demon roared.

The older warrior stood up, stepping over his comrade, and began running towards the demon faster than Alayne believed possible. The orc’s eyes blazed red, shining almost as fiercely as did those of the elves. She gasped in horror when she saw the warrior struck down, then again in astonishment when she saw his axe planted firmly in the demon’s chest. The demon stared down at his wound in amazement, letting loose a roar of defiance and disbelief as his corporeal form began to waver and disintegrate. An explosion rocked the canyon, throwing the older warrior back, flinging him down the canyon like a rag doll. Alayne felt the rush of the wind and the surge of power that came from the uncontrolled destruction of a mighty demon. She glanced down at the older orc’s prone body in awe; it had taken dozens 180

and dozens of fighters, magi, and healers to bring down Magtheridon. This lone orc brought down a demon of comparable power by himself! She wracked her brain fiercely, trying to recall what little she knew of orcish history. Truly, this warrior must be a legend among the green-skinned orcs of the Horde. Was he Durotan? Drek’Thar? And who was the young orc with him? He looked familiar to her. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the younger warrior dragging himself up and over to his comrade.

“Thrall... The blood haze has lifted,” the older warrior gasped, his breath rattling in his throat. “The demon's fire has burnt out in my veins. I have... freed myself,” he sighed contentedly, drawing breath no more.

The younger warrior, Thrall, reached down and gently pulled his friend’s eyes closed.

“No, old friend,” he sighed sadly, proudly. “You’ve freed us all.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne blinked and swayed on her feet as the vision left her. All around her, she could see others doing the same. The Mag’har orcs were staring at Thrall in shock, their shoulders lifting in pride that they had never before allowed themselves to feel before. Garrosh stared at the Warchief, tears of joy and relief shining in his eyes. “For my entire life I have thought my bloodline cursed. I have lived beneath the shadow of my father's greatest failure. I hated him for what he had done. I hated him for the burden he left me,” he said, tears trickling heedlessly down his face as he walked over to Thrall, lifting a hand to grasp the other orc as if afraid he would vanish as the vision had. “But now...you have shown me truths that I would have never known. You and your allies have gifted me with something that cannot bear a price. Redemption. Thrall, redeemer of the Mag'har, you honor me as none ever have...” Thrall grasped Garrosh by the shoulders, forcing his head up proudly. Garrosh smiled and lifted his gaze to the sky, “On this day, a great burden has been lifted from my chest. My heart swells with pride. And for the first time, I can proudly proclaim who I am. I can finally unleash the fury in my heart. I am Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grom, chieftain of the Mag'har! Let the battle call of Hellscream give you courage and strength! Be lifted by my rallying cry. Thank you, Son of Durotan.”

“You need not thank me, Garrosh. Your father was a brother to me. I would do anything for you and the Mag'har. I must now return to the Greatmother,” Thrall said awkwardly, glancing around and realizing that the entire camp was staring at the two of them.

Alayne averted her gaze quickly, giving them the privacy the two chieftains seemed to crave.

Thrall quickly stomped back into the house, slamming the door behind him. Garrosh stared after the other orc thoughtfully. Giving himself a shake after a long moment, he blinked and looked around, his eyebrows lifting as if surprised to see the gathering.

“You there, Ger’alin,” he said gruffly, pointing to the Blood Knight. “I want to speak with you.” Ger’alin nodded and waved Alayne and Callie away as he stepped up to the orc chieftain. “I owe you much, sin’dorei. By your efforts, I…no, I will not speak of it. I owe you a debt. For days now, you have spoken about allying the Mag’har and the other clans in this broken world. Ever since you and your fellows broke the chains binding the others to the demon blood, you have spoken of uniting us and facing down the ones responsible for such an offer. I will not presume to speak for the others – even if they have offered me such a voice – but I will tell you now that the Mag’har will march with you against the Black Temple even if the others do not.”

“There is no debt between us,” Ger’alin insisted. Garrosh waved a meaty hand, cutting him off.

181

“If it were not for you trying to convince me to cease worrying about my father’s legacy, Thrall would never have come out here to show me the truth. Tell me, sin’dorei, why did you not reveal this to me?”

“Honestly?” Ger’alin said before he had a chance to consider the wisdom of his words, “because I didn’t know that Grommash Hellscream slew Mannoroc. When that battle took place, my people were struggling to survive against the undead Scourge. We were scattered to the four corners of the world. Only recently have we come together again and now…,” he sighed, stopping. “Our worries are none of yours, chieftain of the Mag’har. And, there is no debt between us. I did only what honor demanded. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And you have paid a price that many a warrior would dread,” Garrosh said firmly.

“None walk the world of spirits lightly, sin’dorei. In remembrance of the debt I owe you for all that you have done for my people, I declare that you are my brother and that your enemies are my enemies,” he grunted, placing a hand on one of Ger’alin’s shoulders. The Blood Knight stared at the chieftain, uncertain what to do next. Green eyes meet blue in confusion, then acceptance as Ger’alin reached over to grip the orc’s shoulder.

“I declare that you are my brother, Garrosh of the Mag’har, and that your enemies are my enemies.”

“May we go down in song as will the mighty Thrall of the Horde and Grommash Hellscream,” Garrosh grinned, clapping the Blood Knight on the back. “Come now, brother.

Let us celebrate the home-coming of the Son of Durotan by feasting, drinking, and plotting Illidan’s downfall.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne watched as Ger’alin, somewhat bewildered, and Garrosh walked over to roasting pits. Her husband grew more relaxed and animated as the two talked and joked. She grinned to herself, relieved to see that Garrosh had overcome the pain he had masked with his lethargy for so long. She’d overheard enough to puzzle out that they would be going against the Black Temple soon.

“What are you doing over here smiling to yourself?” Zerith whispered in her ear.

Alayne gave a start and grinned at him. “I think Garrosh and Ger’alin are going to be good friends,” he said, nodding towards the pair.

“I think they’re brothers now,” Alayne murmured. She rubbed the scar on her palm, recalling the day she’d found her own brother. Zerith lifted his own scarred hand to take hers.

“Our little family is growing,” he said softly. “It started out with just the pair of us.

Then came Callie and Dar’ja. You’ve finally married him, bringing him into the fold,” he laughed gently. “Now, we have an orc. Whom are we going to adopt next? Oh no,” he chuckled. “What does that look mean?”

“I met the orphans living in Shattrath,” Alayne said, her eyes locking onto Ger’alin.

He and Garrosh were engaged in some kind of eating contest. Several members of the Disorder of Azeroth and Garadar guards formed a semi-circle around them, clapping and laughing encouragement to the pair. Alayne grinned when she saw Callie shaking her head as she handed Ger’alin another windroc leg. “They are so…eager and so lonely at the same time, Zerith. Jez’ral and I took them riding through the city for a few hours the first day you were gone. All of them talked about growing up and…” “…making the world a safe place where there were no orphans and all of the kids who didn’t have parents would come and live with them?” he finished for her.

“I thought only Ger’alin could…”

“Oh please,” Zerith snorted. “I can read you almost as well as I read Dar’ja. So, what? You want to start an orphanage?”

182

“I was thinking more along the lines of working at the one in Shattrath. Still, do you think he would be bothered by it?” she asked, gesturing towards the crowd around her husband.

“I think he’d be delighted, actually. I know that if I had grown up with no family around me, no one of my own people to teach me… and then, years later, the love of my life wanted to spend time with children who were growing up as I had? I would be thrilled beyond reckoning. Besides,” he added mischievously, “it would give Callie a different target for her pranks and we could always make them do chores for us. My father used to say the sole reason he and Mother had five children was to have some help around the house.”

“I still haven’t figured out how your mother had so many children,” Alayne muttered.

“While I’m eager to be an aunt, I don’t think I need to be one five times over.”

“Human ancestry. My mother’s great-grandmother was a half-elf,” he replied, somewhat embarrassed. Alayne’s eyes widened but she said nothing. “Nowadays, such…um…help me out here, sis…”

“Fecundity?”

“Yes,” he said, dragging the word out, “would probably be considered a good thing.

Mother just got a hefty dose of ostracism over it until people got used to the idea. Father said that the entire village was agog when, not even two years after I was born, Mother was pregnant again.”

“Zerith, as interesting as it is to hear you talk about your family, could we change the subject?” Alayne blushed.

“Yes, new topic,” he blushed. “Have you worked out a plan for going against Illidan?

Thrall said that if Garrosh would not lead the orcs against the Black Temple, he would do it himself. He also wants us to ‘take care of Kael’thas’ but thinks we’d be better doing it on our own. Before we left, Thrall was sending messengers to Sylvanas and Lord Lor’themar concerning what we told him.”

“Remind me never to let you choose the topic again,” Alayne growled. “From what I can put together, our best bet in the fight against Illidan Stormrage would be for us to learn how to tap into the energies from the Vial…”

“No way,” he interrupted. “Dar’ja told me about the riots and about your back. We are not going to wade into that mess again. Leave it with Voren’thal.”

“Then the only other way is to just overwhelm him and hope we can kill him before he kills all of us,” she sighed. “I’m sorry, Zerith, but he’s very powerful. Very powerful.”

“Perhaps the Dragonmaw will know a weakness,” the priest sighed. “We’ll be riding out to meet with them tomorrow. I’m hoping that Garrosh, with his new-found leadership, will be willing to come with us.”

“Have you thought about what we’ll do after?”

“I don’t want to think about it, Alayne. But, yes, I have. We have to stop Kael. We allied ourselves with the Scryers to do that. Once Illidan is done for, if Kael won’t relent…we’ll have no choice but to take the fight to him before he can summon the Legion on top of us. I’m sorry, Alayne,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and patting her on the back fondly. “He’s made our choice treason or certain destruction.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I know.”

183

Chapter Seventeen: The Battle of the Black Temple

A

layne chewed her lower lip nervously as she rode near the head of the column. In front of her, Zerith, Ger’alin, and Garrosh rode with their heads together. The leader of the Dragonmaw clan, an orc named Mor’ghor, had been waiting for them on the road south of Firewing Point. He and Garrosh had exchanged brief words before he galloped off to return to his embattled keep. From what little Ger’alin had told her, Alayne knew that Illidan was enraged at the Dragonmaw’s mass defection.

Their redemption from the blood lust had cost the Illidari enormous resources and manpower.

Only demons and sin’dorei operating under orders from Kael’thas were left of Illidan’s forces. “There has to be a way around him,” she whispered beneath her breath.

“Not talking to yourself again, are you?” Callie asked, poking the warlock in the knee.

“You need to stop worrying so much.”

“I’m not worried,” Alayne lied. “I’m just thinking.”

“Well, quit thinking. Zerith and Ger’alin have worked out a pretty good plan. Actually sneaking into the Black Temple is brilliant. Still, it’s going to be hard to kill the attackers without damaging their clothes,” the rogue mused. “But, hey, the Disorder of Azeroth is always up for a challenge. Quit looking so glum,” she sighed.

“I’m not glum,” Alayne said irritably. Craning her neck, she tried to read the others’ lips, desperate to figure out what they were talking about now. From what she could make out, they were just discussing possible avenues of attack to help break the siege at Dragonmaw Hold. She felt the now-familiar tingle that told her that something – she had no idea what – momentous was upon them.

“Yes, you are,” Callie interjected, trying to divert the woman’s attention.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Alayne growled. The men had finished their conversation and Ger’alin was reining in Lucky, letting the horse fall back until he was abreast of his wife and the Forsaken. “So?” she asked.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate sieges?” he sighed. “They’re nasty things.

Luckily, this one has only been in place a short while. It shouldn’t be too hard to rout them out.”

“I seem to recall you mentioning something about sieges being nasty things,” Alayne muttered. “What is the plan?”

Ger’alin sighed and scrubbed a hand through his long brown hair. Alayne reached over and tucked the stray lock that always fell in his face back behind his ear. Patting the side of his head fondly, she repeated her question.

“We’re going to crush them,” Ger’alin answered simply. “Zerith is up there now doing the sums in his mind. He sent us back so we’d quit bothering him. The Disorder of Azeroth will split in half. One half will circle around from the Sanctum of the Stars and hit the besiegers from the side flanking the mountains. The other half will continue towards the Black Temple and flank them from the other side. Garrosh’s forces will wait in reserve and strike in the center once we’ve pushed them back a good bit. Together, we should be able to crush them against the Dragonmaw’s wall.”

184

“That doesn’t sound so hard,” Callie muttered.

“Oh, you want hard?” Ger’alin replied in mock exasperation. “Well, I suppose the fact that we don’t dare get close to the rear of the lines because the Dragonmaw are going to be letting loose with their catapults would be ‘hard.’ Oh, and all of the sin’dorei with us are going to have to watch out for the orc archers on the wall. According to Mor’ghor, we all look alike. There, is that ‘hard’ enough for you, Callie?”

“I like a challenge,” she grinned.

“What kind of demons are with the Illidari?” Alayne cut in.

“I think Mor’ghor said that there are mostly fel guards. Nothing terribly strong; Illidan apparently doesn’t trust demons any more than the rest of us. He only used Magtheridon because he needed a way to force the orcs to remain loyal to him. The more I think about the fact that Stormrage enslaved an entire people and foisted an addiction on them, the more I…” “Calm down,” Alayne said, patting his knee absently while she sorted through various methods of defeating fel guard class demons. “Are there any other kinds of demons there?

Besides the fel guards?”

“No. At least, he didn’t say when we asked.”

“Tell Zerith to put all of the warlocks together,” she sighed. “We’ll work better with bringing them to heel if we can meld our magics. No, Ger’alin, we’re not going to try to enslave them,” she answered the irritated question she saw flash in his eyes. “Though, if none are very powerful, enslaving them would be fairly low-risk. But, I’m not,” she sighed. “I’m not going to put myself in the position Jez’ral is in now.” Ger’alin stared at her flatly, his green eyes bland and demanding at the same time. “What?” she asked.

“What is bothering you?” he asked, his tone matching his expression.

“Nothing!” Alayne snapped.

“That’s exactly what she told me, too,” Callie added, rolling her eyes.

“Spill it, Alayne,” he said, staring at her relentlessly. “You can’t hide anything from me and you know it.”

Alayne glared at her husband and flapped the loose ends of her reins in irritation.

Opening her mouth several times, she closed it, uncertain of how to begin. “What are you doing?” she demanded angrily when Ger’alin pulled her off her fel steed and in front of him.

He ignored her, shaking his head at Zerith when the priest glanced back and raised his eyebrows in askance. Letting healing energies flow through his hands, Ger’alin looked for the cracks that had marred Alayne’s spirit during her illness. Finding no trace of them, he let her straighten her skirts and look daggers at him over her shoulder. “What was that for?”

“What is bothering you?” he asked, his tone growing milder. “You were crying in your sleep last night. You’ve been distant all morning. I know you, Alayne. I know every expression you have and you’ve been wearing your ‘something is bothering me but I’m not going to tell anyone because either a) it’s something silly or b) I’ll handle it myself or c) both’ expression since breakfast.” Alayne squirmed, trying to find a way to sit comfortably in front of his saddle while giving her husband her frostiest glare. “I can drag it out of you,” he threatened, his eyes lighting up. He lifted his hands slightly and she froze, staring at him in dread.

“I’ve just got the feeling that something horrible is about to happen,” she said quickly. “I…I keep seeing things…and I don’t know if they are true things are not.

I…nothing good will come of confronting Illidan,” she explained. “The orcs are going to turn against us. I don’t know if they’ll become our enemies or if they’ll just refuse to help us, but…something is going to happen if we go up against Illidan and it’s going to turn them against us.”

“Why would the orcs turn against us?” he asked.

185

“I don’t know,” she shrugged helplessly. “I just…”

“What are you two doing?” Zerith asked, reining E’la in near them. He had signaled a halt to the advance just before the hill leading up towards Dragonmaw Hold.

“Alayne thinks that something is going to happen to cause the orcs to turn against us if we continue against Illidan,” Ger’alin said, not giving Zerith’s sister a chance to open her mouth. “She’s having those visions and that sense of déjà vu again.”

Zerith squinted at Alayne. “If we don’t help break the siege,” he pointed out reasonably, “they will turn against us. No, Alayne, I know that you’re afraid of something and it’s got you very worried. We’ll talk about it after this fight. For now, let’s just take this one step at a time. We’ll cross the bridge to the Black Temple when we come to it.” ~*~*~*~ “I hate sieges,” Ger’alin muttered as he and Garrosh crawled up the hill on their bellies.

“All warriors hate them,” Garrosh replied, pulling himself up over the crest of the hill carefully. “They are nasty things,” the two said at the same time. Glancing at each other, both grinned and shook their heads ruefully before turning their attention back to the scene further down the valley.

“This may be tricky,” Ger’alin whispered. Arrayed in heavy lines from nearly the middle of the valley all the way to the walls of the fortress, demons and elves bearing the Illidari crest threw spells and missiles at the fortress’s palisade, concentrating fire on the gates in hopes of forcing them open. From atop the high walls, orc archers and warlocks returned fire. Every few moments, the ground would shake and the canyon echo with a resounding “thud” as the Dragonmaw let loose with one of their catapults. Blood and gore staining the dusty floor of the canyon attested to the fact that the Illidari forces had learned, through trial and error, to stay pressed close to the walls and out of the catapults’ range. The two watched for several moments more before conferring amongst themselves and crawling back down the hill. Once they were far enough down, they stood, dusted themselves off, and jogged up to Zerith.

“Well?” the priest asked. He’d seen the pair of them put their heads together.

“The plan will work fine,” Ger’alin replied. “I just wish we had drilled more with the casters mixed in with the front lines. It’s going to be really chaotic out there.”

“We’ll do fine,” Zerith said, faking a confidence he did not feel. “After all, once we push them back, the Mag’har will pin them and we’ll have them caught like a snake in a cleft stick.” Ger’alin and Garrosh nodded and, at a signal from Zerith, hurried back to gather their groups. The priest watched anxiously as his forces divided themselves in half. One half began to funnel itself down the far side of the canyon wall, keeping a careful eye for the wandering creatures who fed off the crystals dotting the canyon floor. The other half galloped down the road, keeping pace with their counterparts. A few Illidari moved to try to intercept them but were cut off when, seeing rescue at hand, the Dragonmaw directed their catapults towards the road, forcing the Illidari to remain near the gates.

A flash of light off a sword blade caught Zerith’s eye. He watched as Ger’alin led his group into the midst of the Illidari demons and elves. The priest muttered a brief prayer, hoping his healers and sister would be well with Ger’alin. Letting Alayne so close to the front lines made the man nervous. Her temper had ever been uncertain unless she had someone standing over her. Letting her stay with Ger’alin during a battle might not have been the best idea. “It’s not as if I could have stopped her,” he muttered to himself. Seeing both sides engaged, Zerith directed his attention back to Garrosh. He would ride with the Mag’har, healing their forces as they tried to avoid the missiles from the Dragonmaw and pin the 186

Illidari to the wall. The sin’dorei priest kept his focus on the orc chieftain, refusing to let himself watch the progress of the battle. He would not trample Garrosh’s newly-found leadership by questioning the man’s decisions in front of his own troops. Time seemed to move with infinite slowness as the priest watched the chieftain watch the battle. Zerith heaved a sigh of relief with he saw Garrosh’s arm fall forward, signaling the advance.

Glancing up at the sun, the priest was shocked to see that it had risen to nearly its noon-day peak. Letting the orcs ride in front of him, Zerith hung back with the shaman, looking with mild interest at the primitive idols and totems they carried to help in healing their brethren.

He uttered a brief prayer to the Light as he heeled E’la to a trot, one eye on the sky and one on the battle before him.

The Disorder of Azeroth had done well, forcing the Illidari lines back upon themselves, putting significant numbers out of the fight by giving them no room to maneuver.

Relief trilled through him when he saw Ger’alin and Dar’ja in the fore on either side, their blades dripping with blood. Telling himself it was demon blood, refusing to let himself consider that they had had to kill any of their own, he looked around for Alayne and Callie.

The Forsaken was near Dar’ja, her daggers making quick work of any demon or elf who tried to get through the lines. Alayne stood back, hunched over and catching her breath. Around her, the other casters stood in similar states of exhaustion. He grimaced when he saw her reach out and, with a deft grasp, pull part of the life-force from one of the remaining demons.

“I hate it when she does that,” he thought to himself. With renewed vigor, his sister began hurling her spells. Bolts of shadow exploded against Illidari chests, sending the targets reeling and giving them no chance to try to deflect the hexes and curses she wrought on them.

One by one, the other casters regained their strength, adding their power to hers. Bolts of ice and fire joined her shadow bolts. Lightning sprang from the hands of the shaman and, overhead, thundering clouds appeared, forks of electricity shooting from them and decimating the Illidari ranks in the rear. Rain slicked the ground, turning the dirt into bloody mud. Zerith could imagine Ger’alin’s thoughts when he saw the Blood Knight grimace as the sucking mire tried to hold him fast.

On the battle raged, steel ringing against steel, screams of agony mixing with shouts of triumph. By the time the sun had begun to descend from its zenith, the last of the Illidari demons was slain and only a handful of elves, throwing their weapons down and lifting their arms to beg for quarter, remained. Zerith held himself back, letting Garrosh take command of the prisoners. He told himself that they would be treated more honorably by the orcs than they would treat any prisoners Illidan held. Looking around, he began to tread through the crowd, offering healing to the wounded and comfort to the distraught. Out of the corner of one eye, he could see his friends – his family – gathering together near the gate. Alayne was wiping sweat from her forehead and waving away Ger’alin’s offer of support when she staggered. Dar’ja had slumped to the ground, her sides heaving, trying to catch her breath.

Only Callie seemed her normal, energetic self and Zerith would not pay the price she had for such endurance. He grinned to himself as he began to walk towards them, trying to frame the best way to tease Dar’ja about her fatigue while not giving Ger’alin ammunition to use against him. The gates of the fortress creaked open and Alayne turned to look. Her face went dead white and her eyes bulged. Her mouth opened to emit a wordless, high-pitched shriek.

Zerith began running, glad that Ger’alin was there to catch her before she could hit the ground. Garrosh looked away from the prisoners to stare daggers at the fainting elven woman. Jogging over to the gate, he grinned when he saw Mor’ghor and an orcish magician of great power walk through. “The Dragonmaw owes the Mag’har a debt of blood,” Mor’ghor said gruffly.

187

“There is no debt between brothers,” Garrosh replied. “Let the past go, Mor’ghor.

Your clan did dark things – that is true. All the clans did in those days. Let us focus now on the future.”

“That is what he says,” Mor’ghor grinned, pointing to the sin’dorei Blood Knight trying to revive his wife.

“He says many things worth considering,” the magician muttered, staring at the strange tableau. “I have heard his words from Mor’ghor. Because of them, we sent Zuluhed’s head to Illidan as a sign that we will no longer allow him to destroy us. The dragons have decided to ally with us as well, now that we no longer enslave them.”

“That is good news,” Garrosh said. “Good news indeed. Come; let us discuss the next stage of our battle.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin rubbed Alayne’s temples, praying that the next time the woman opened her eyes, she would not faint again. After the third time, it had ceased to be funny. Neither he nor Zerith could hide their worry that something was terribly wrong with the woman. Both recalled her explanations as to why she had been unable to confide in them in the run up to her insanity. Both fervently prayed that such would not become the case again. “She seems fine,” Ger’alin said for the tenth time. “I don’t know why she keeps fainting.”

“If she does it again, I’m going to throw a bucket of ice water on her,” Callie muttered. “This really isn’t funny anymore.”

“Shush,” Dar’ja said, waving the others to silence. “I think she’s coming around again.” Ger’alin continued to massage her scalp, watching her face worriedly as his wife made quiet moans and twitched, regaining consciousness for the sixth time. “Alayne?” Dar’ja asked softly.

“Light my head hurts,” Alayne whispered, reaching up and putting her hands over Ger’alin’s. “Thanks, sweetheart, but it’s not working.”

“Are you feeling well?” Zerith asked. Alayne still had not opened her eyes. “Look at us.”

“I…I don’t know,” she answered, sounding confused. “When the gate opened and I saw Mor’ghor and the other orc with him…for a moment, I thought…”

“You thought what?” Zerith pressed, squatting down beside her.

“I just…we can’t attack the Black Temple. If we do, something terrible is going to happen.”

“If we don’t attack, we’ll lose the Mag’har and the Dragonmaw as allies,” Zerith pointed out reasonably. “Why shouldn’t we attack? What do you fear will happen?”

“I don’t know,” she muttered fretfully. “We should be going after Kael.”

“He’s next on the list,” Ger’alin said gently. “But, if we pull Illidan down, we may be able to convince him to stop this madness.”

“You don’t understand,” Alayne said, sitting up. Her face paled again but she took a firm hold of herself. “Ever since I heard we were going to fight Lady Vashj, I’ve been having…not visions, but memories. I can see that something bad is going to happen if we continue down this path.”

“Alayne, those ‘visions’ are from Arthas,” Ger’alin whispered. “We’ve discussed this. You can’t put any faith in them. After all, you told me that you feared going up against Vashj because you thought she would kill Dar’ja. Dar’ja is alive and well and glaring at us like we’ve lost our minds,” he teased softly. Alayne glared at him. “Going up against Magtheridon would have made anyone nervous; that’s why you were afraid that something was going to happen. It doesn’t mean you knew, beforehand, that Jez’ral was going to have 188

his mind destroyed. Whatever you fear now is probably akin to that. You can’t let it control you.”

“But…” “But nothing,” Zerith cut in. “He’s right. If you’re having visions from Arthas or remembering things you saw in Northrend, you can’t trust them. The Lich King would love nothing more than to see all of us dead and in his service.”

“He’s a cold, heartless bastard without even the barest recollection of human feeling,” Callie added. “I’d say, if he’s telling you not to do something, then it’s probably the very thing you should be doing.”

“I agree with her,” Ger’alin nodded.

“Just hear me out,” Alayne pleaded. “If you do this…something terrible is going to happen! I don’t know what but I know that I can’t stop it if you do this!”

“Alayne,” Ger’alin said firmly but softly, “if anything terrible happens, we will deal with it when it happens. Now, I want you to rest. Zerith and I are going to speak with Mor’ghor and Garrosh to finalize our plans for infiltrating the Black Temple. No,” he said, putting a finger across her lips, “we are not going to back out of this now. We have given our word that we would help see the orcs of Outland free of Illidan’s control forever. If we break our word, they’ll never help us with our own problems. Thrall would probably rescind his offer of protection to the sin’dorei and then we’d be left to face the Scourge, the Horde, and the Alliance alone. No doubt that is what Arthas hopes for; that’s why he’s trying so hard to scare you into scaring us…” he sighed in frustration, tears springing to his eyes when Alayne’s rolled back in her head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“One day, I’m going to plan an expedition to Northrend just to kill that son of a bitch,” Zerith swore.

“I’ll be more than happy to supply whatever information I can to see that happen,” Callie promised. “But, for now, maybe you two better go confer with Garrosh and Mor’ghor.

Dar’ja and I will keep an eye on Alayne and try to get her to understand. Who knows, maybe we’ll be able to convince her to stop worrying so much,” the Forsaken continued, sounding doubtful. Zerith sighed and nodded, conceding the point. Ger’alin stood up, glancing at the door and back at his wife indecisively. Giving himself a shake, he stormed from the room, muttering imprecations and threats beneath his breath. Zerith followed after him, hoping that the four of them would be able to come up with a plan that would calm his sister’s fears.

Meanwhile, Alayne began to moan brokenly and thrash in her sleep. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin slumped against the wall just outside of the room where Mor’ghor and Garrosh were waiting for him and Zerith. He lifted a shaking hand to his eyes to wipe them and try to collect himself before he entered the room. “Hey, man,” Zerith said softly, gripping the Blood Knight’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right. Likely, she’s just worried about us going up against Illidan. How many times did she say it was hopeless?”

“I know, I know,” Ger’alin said, waving the other man off. “I just can’t help but remember how she used to clam up because her personality was splitting in half. She kept trying to protect us… And he used that against her! Is he doing it again?”

“That’s a question I dearly wish I knew the answer to,” Zerith sighed. “At least now, she doesn’t hide everything from us like she used to. I think, if she’s fainting, it’s from sheer terror, not because her mind is fighting against her will.”

“I wish I’d spent more time listening to Ma’iv,” Ger’alin muttered sullenly. “Maybe then I wouldn’t feel like I’m treading on thin ice.”

189

“Oh, believe me,” Zerith said, shaking his head, “having spoken with Ma’iv quite a bit, it does no good. I still feel worse than useless when it comes to maladies of the mind.

Let’s try not to think about this right now,” he continued, “difficult as that is, I know.” The other man nodded his head and, taking a deep breath, gathered himself. Gesturing, he motioned for Zerith to go ahead of him into the room.

Garrosh and Mor’ghor looked up at the new comers before bending their heads back over the maps. Zerith and Ger’alin strode over and took their places on the opposite sides of the table. Looking down, both sin’dorei examined the maps laying out the inside of the Black Temple. “When I visited the Temple a week ago,” Mor’ghor said, pointing to one of the outer hallways, “Illidan had demons and Akama’s Broken patrolling these corridors. The only entrance to the Temple, unless you sprout wings and can turn completely invisible, is here,” he continued, indicating a pair of enormous doors. “This hallway leads – or perhaps led – to the Illidari Council chamber. If you’re still planning to go along with the scheme you cooked up, your best bet is to collect what armor, tabards, weapons, and insignias you can from the dead and the prisoners. I can supply you with a few names that might ease your passage into the Temple. However, be wary of approaching the Illidari Council members or Illidan himself. Those blood elves are clever and Illidan has a way of seeing right through to the truth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ger’alin said calmly. “I wouldn’t mind testing my bluffing skills against Stormrage. I earned more than enough gold to buy a patent of nobility cutting cards,” he grinned. The orcs stared at him, their eyes flat, in no mood for jokes or attempts to lighten the atmosphere. “I’ll be careful.”

“You’ll be careful?” Zerith asked under his breath. Ger’alin raised a hand, silencing the priest for the moment. Zerith gave him a glare that demanded an answer later before letting himself be diverted.

“Brother,” Garrosh said, under no such compunction to hold his tongue, “your bravery is unquestioned but you would better serve us by staying here to design a battle plan.

By the ancestors, you have one of the finest minds I’ve seen.”

“All the more reason for me to go,” Ger’alin replied, grateful that he was able to hold back the blushes that the chieftain’s compliments brought. “If I can see the disposition of Illidan’s forces first-hand; if I can see what defenses he’s mounted, then I can plan an even better attack. Besides, I’m not in the habit of asking others to do something I’m unwilling to do myself. I will lead the group infiltrating the Temple myself.”

“Very well,” Mor’ghor said, effectively ending discussion of the issue. “Have you given any thought to the story you’ll tell?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Ger’alin said confidently. “If we can find a set of sergeant’s armor – nothing too high-ranking, I plan to pass myself off as a low-level field commander. I’ll bring news of ‘our’ armies’ defeat by the Dragonmaw and a request for reinforcements. I’m afraid I’ll have to provide enough information about the gates and the troops you have on them,” he continued, explanatory but not apologetic. “Otherwise, when they double-check my report, we’ll be found out. We’ll decide exactly what I’m going to tell them, though, and how we’re going to make it look as if you’re trickier than one of my friends can be when she gets up to no-good. I was thinking that…”

Zerith stood quietly, letting the others make their plans. Only a few times did the priest volunteer a suggestion or argue against a course of action. He was still upset that Ger’alin wanted to lead the spies into the Temple but knew that he had few arguments to raise against it. Once Mor’ghor and Ger’alin had settled on a tale, they drilled at it until Ger’alin could have recited it in his sleep. Zerith was forced to admit that his friend was cool liar. Had he not known better himself, he might have thought the Blood Knight really had been a member of Illidan’s vast army of sin’dorei. By the time the sun had sunk below the 190

mountains, painting the sky an ominous shade of bright red, Ger’alin had thoroughly impressed the leader of the Dragonmaw with his ability to play-act. He’d impressed his brother-by-marriage as well. With wishes for a peaceful night’s rest, the four left the room, each pair heading in separate directions. “I’m starving,” Ger’alin sighed, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

“I don’t think Alayne’s going to like the idea of you…,” Zerith began.

“We’re not going to tell her until after I’m back,” Ger’alin interrupted. “I know how she’ll worry; I would probably do the same if she told me she wanted to infiltrate the Black Temple. Still, once I’m back, she’ll be more at ease with the fact that I’ll have gone. She won’t be so worried that whoever went may have overlooked something. Just do me a favor, Zerith,” he said, stopping and glancing up and down the empty hallway. “Once I leave, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her out of your sight; not even for a moment. Tie her to your arm if you have to. Promise me.”

“I’ll keep my eye on her, of course.”

“No, I literally mean do not let her out of your sight,” Ger’alin growled in a hushed whisper. “Light, if I come back and she’s vanished…”

“You still worry that she might disappear again?” Zerith asked, sounding surprised.

“Ger’alin, she’s free of Arthas. Granted, she’s having some kind of visions or something that may or may not be of his doing. He may be making a last ditch effort to stymie our plans, but she’s not going to follow him again or be swayed by him. Light, she hates the power she learned from him even more than she hates controlling demons.”

“You don’t understand,” Ger’alin said, shaking his head. “Zerith, sometimes I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and I won’t see her. Maybe she’s buried herself under the covers and out of my immediate line of sight. Maybe I’ve rolled over on my other side.

Regardless, I’ll wake up and she’s not there. For a moment, my heart will stop and I’ll start to sweat, thinking that everything up to now has just been a pleasant dream – like the ones I used to have when she really was gone. I’ll think that I’m back in that hell where she’s dead and… Oh Light, it was torment, those long, lonely nights. Not even the strongest dwarven ale could quench the pain I felt!” he gasped, shuddering.

“I’ll tie her to my belt,” Zerith promised quickly. “Literally.” Ger’alin watched his face for a long moment before calming himself and striding back down the corridor. “So, do you want to go out and see what’s making those wonderful smells?” the priest asked, trying to change the topic.

“Oddly enough, I’m not hungry anymore,” Ger’alin muttered, turning up another corridor. “I’m going to go see if she’s still lying down. We might be down later,” he added, smiling as he stared off into the distance.

“Actually, I want to check on her myself,” Zerith replied. “If her head is still hurting…,” “Please,” Ger’alin huffed, rolling his eyes. “If you think I haven’t started carrying that tea you make for her, you’re crazy. As I said, we might be down later,” he repeated, putting a slight emphasis on the words ‘might’ and ‘later.’ “Go on without us.” ~*~*~*~ “I still think this is a bad idea. Something terrible is going to happen,” Alayne insisted. Ger’alin held his tongue, realizing by now that she just wanted to get the words out, not engage in a discussion of the issue. He listened with half a mind, enjoying having her curled up against him, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. He contented himself with listening to the sound of her voice and running a thumb along her ear. She pushed herself up and glared at him. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” she accused.

191

“Not really, no,” he admitted, grinning. “I stopped listening after the twentieth ‘this is a bad idea.’ I get the point, Alayne. You are convinced that something terrible is going to happen if we attack the Black Temple. I want you to stop and think about what will happen if we don’t attack it, though. The orcs will never trust us again; the Dragonmaw may very well decide to try to throw themselves on the demon’s mercy. Thrall would be most displeased to hear that; he might very well take back his offer to protect the sin’dorei who disavow allegiance to Kael’thas. On top of that, we’d be leaving a very powerful, very unpredictable power to take us in the back when we finally do go against our prince. Going against the master of Outland is not something we’re doing lightly, Alayne, but it is something we cannot back out of at this point.”

“It’s still a…,” “Hush,” he sighed, putting a finger over her lips. “I don’t want to hear it again.” She glared at him in irritation. He moved his finger before she could nip at it.

“You have to promise me that…”

“Enough,” he said firmly, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her up so that her face hovered over his. “We are not going to back out and that’s final. We will proceed with all reasonable caution. If you can’t accept that, I will escort you back to Shattrath until this is over. Oh no,” he growled, trying to interject heat into his voice when tears welled in her eyes.

“Don’t you dare start the waterworks, Alayne Sunrage!”

“I can’t help it,” she sniffled, trying to swallow them and failing. “You won’t listen to me,” she bawled. “Something terrible is going to happen and you won’t listen to me!”

Ger’alin sighed and let her settle down against him, burying her face against his neck and weeping with frustration. He felt close to tears of irritation himself. He understood her fear of some unknown, perhaps unknowable, catastrophe. He wished with every fiber of his being that she could understand the consequences of what she was proposing. “We’re caught between a rock and a hard place,” he muttered, his voice cracking. “Alayne, we can’t back out now!” he said, pounding a fist against the mattress on his other side. “We can’t!”

“I know,” she hiccoughed. “I’m sorry that I keep insisting we do just that but…”

“Let’s not think about it?” he suggested. “Let’s have a complete moratorium on discussing any kind of battle plans for the next month.” She murmured her assent and, after a few moments, managed to halt her tears. “You okay?” he asked shakily once her breathing returned to normal. He felt her nod. “You know what?” he said suddenly. “I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” she laughed, her voice shaky as well.

“If you weren’t such a good cook, I wouldn’t always want to eat.”

“You can stop hinting,” she said, sounding amused. Her voice still trembled but she managed to keep it under control. “I’ll go get dressed and see if there’s anything left on the cook fires.”

“And I will lay right here under the covers and keep the bed warm,” he grinned.

“Don’t be gone long. I might die of starvation,” he laughed as his stomach rumbled loudly.

Alayne shook her head, letting the last of the somber mood dispel. Pulling her discarded robe back over her head, she slipped her feet into her slippers and twisted her hands behind her back to do up the buttons. “Come over here and I’ll do that,” Ger’alin said. “Though, it’s more fun undoing them if you ask me.”

“Oh hush up or you’ll die of starvation,” she teased.

“Right, right,” he muttered, finishing the last of them. Pulling her cloak off the door hook, she tossed it over her shoulders and padded out of the room. The late evening sun made long, thick shadows through the keep’s few windows and arrow slits. She nodded and shared a knowing grin with Dar’ja when she passed the other woman in the hallway. Her sister-bymarriage balanced two plates on her hands, nearly dropping them when Alayne winked at her conspiratorially.

192

“As different as they are, some things are always the same,” Dar’ja giggled. “Are you feeling better? You couldn’t have slept well; you were thrashing and moaning until Ger’alin came in and woke you up.”

“Need help with that?” Alayne asked, pointing to one of the plates. Dar’ja shook her head. “I’m feeling a little better. I’d rather not think about it, though.”

“Fair enough. What were you dreaming about, though?”

“It was one of those dreams where I’ll probably remember it five seconds after whatever it was happened,” she said cryptically. “Go, take Zerith some food. You two will need it if you’re going to try to keep up with us. We have youth and vigor on our side.”

“Oh, bah. Zerith’s only twenty-nine and I’m barely twenty- four. We’re hardly fossils.”

“I’m nineteen and he’s twenty-five; my point stands.”

“Well, I’d better get in there before he crumbles into dust, then?” Dar’ja muttered with rhetorical sarcasm. Alayne grinned at her back and continued on her way out of the fortress. Once outside, she waved to Callie and Tau’re, wondering what devilry those two would get up to left unattended. Gesturing back towards the keep to explain why she wouldn’t come over to chat with them, she hurried over to the cook fires. Only a few of the felboars were left roasting on spits over the fires. The smell of stewed vegetables wafted over from the kettles nearby. Grabbing a pair of bowls, Alayne scooped out a generous helping of the vegetables and then cut some meat off of one of the roasting spits. Letting it fall into the stew, she stirred the bowls and glanced around, looking for where the orcs had set out the seasonings. Spying the table, she hurried over to it and set the now-warm bowls down quickly, blowing on her fingertips. “What goes well with felboar?” she wondered aloud.

“Some of those lotus leaves, I think,” a deep voice replied in oddly accented Thalassian. Alayne turned around to see who had spoken to her. Her eyes widened when she saw a man, elven to all appearances, met her gaze evenly. His eyes were deep blue and his hair silver-blond, pulled up in a top-knot on top of his head. It flowed down his back and shoulders, over his blue-scale armor, ending just above the quiver belted at his waist. His eyes crinkled as she continued to stare at him. “What?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“You’re a…you…a…a…,” she stammered, a rush of visions slamming her mind.

“There’s no cure,” she heard him saying to her as they stood in front of a desolate landscape filled with broken rocks and purple haze. A vision of Ger’alin, withered and twisted appeared in her eyes. Ger’alin, snarling at her, screaming and raving as he struck her. “No cure once it’s reached this stage,” she heard the stranger’s voice ring in her ears.

“I am called Mordenai,” the man introduced himself. “You are?” “…a dragon,” she sighed, fainting dead away.

“I hate it when they do that,” Mordenai sighed. ~*~*~*~ Alayne opened her eyes and wished she were still asleep. Heat stained her cheeks crimson as the man who had named himself Mordenai stood over her. “Are you well?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, pushing herself up. “I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

“It’s quite alright,” he laughed softly. “Still, it is strange to see someone who has ventured into Northrend here. Or, did you come across it by another path? I can smell the scent of necromancy about you. Very faint and weak, but still there.”

“That’s a long story,” she replied, holding out her hands so he could help pull her to her feet. “I was one of those who…”

193

“Ah, yes,” Mordenai said, brightening. “We heard about your plight. Our watch over the Lich King has increased since then. He will not spread his madness among the living races while we keep our guard. That explains much, then. But not why you fainted.”

“I…I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” she said lamely. “Seeing you shocked me.

What is a member-by-proxy of the blue dragonflight doing wandering about Outland?”

“I was born out here,” he replied, “Not very long ago as you consider things. I had come here to try to free one of our own from the orcs. However, since the orcs were freed of their demonic taint, they have freed all of my kind they held prisoner. Now, we work with them and with the newlings to help thwart Illidan. Here, let me help you,” he offered.

Quickly, he prepared two more bowls for her. He insisted on escorting her back to her room, saying he would feel guilty if she fainted again and came to harm. At the door to her room, she managed to convince him not to follow her in, hinting that her husband was waiting for her. Mordenai grinned knowingly and trotted off after promising to speak with her the next day concerning ancient night elven magic. Ducking into the room, carrying both bowls carefully, she smiled to herself.

“What happened to you?” Ger’alin asked when he looked over to see Alayne entering the room. He stared at the front of her robes, soiled and stained with stew from where she had dropped the bowls when she passed out. Dirt and dust still clung to her back. “Did you fall or something?”

“Or something,” she said lightly, handing him a bowl. She bit her lip and lowered her face, not looking at him, not wanting him to see the tears welling back up in her eyes.

“Ger’alin, please, hear me out,” she begged. He snorted angrily and looked away, his jaw clenched to keep from reminding her that they had an agreement. “If you go against Illidan…you’re going to die because of it.”

“He’s going to kill me?” he asked.

“No. But…you’re going to fall ill with something and it will kill you.”

“Then I’ll have to be careful not to take any poison,” Ger’alin sighed. “I cannot back out, Alayne. I’m one of the strongest fighters we have. If I hide from some fate you fear, what will the others think?”

“When I was down getting our dinner, I saw…”

“All the more reason for me to go,” he muttered. “If the Lich King wants me to stay out of the fight, then the fore of the battle is where I belong. No, Alayne, end of discussion. I couldn’t convince you to stay out of the fight against Magtheridon. You were right; you were needed, there. I’ll be needed in the battle to take the Black Temple. I will not hide away because you’re afraid something will happen to me. I’ll take every reasonable precaution I can but I will – not – hide – from fate!”

“Very well,” she sighed, dashing a few stray tears from her cheeks. “I will go with you. No, don’t you start arguing now,” she said, glaring at him. “I can still swing a sword.

Surely one of those Illidari we captured today had some armor that would fit me.”

“I have no objections to you joining in battle,” he growled. “However, it has been months since you’ve so much as held a sword, let alone sparred or participated in a melee.

Besides, you’re the only real expert we have on night elven magic. You will be needed with the casters, Alayne.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face before gulping down the last of his stew. “Finish eating, at any rate. And stop getting dirt all over the bed,” he grinned slyly.

“You’re really convinced that I’m going to die,” he said tonelessly. “You really and truly believe it.” She nodded and tried to swallow the tears. “I had not intended to tell you this,” he sighed, “but I’m planning to lead the spies into the Temple tomorrow evening. I will still do that and, if there is any way I can see, I will plan an attack that involves me staying out of the fight. Will that satisfy you?” She nodded, her tears vanishing in relief. “Now, finish eating,”

194

he smiled, heat sparkling in his eyes. “I’ve got a hankering for dessert,” he said, grinning wolfishly. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sighed and watched Alayne sleep. Once he had convinced her that, if at all possible, he would stand aside from the battle, she had begun to set her fears aside. He hated feeling as if, by comforting his wife, he were aiding the Lich King. Once again, he vowed to hunt the leader of the Scourge down and make him pay in blood for all the pain he had caused. “You know he can’t be trusted,” he whispered to his wife’s sleeping face. “You know how he used your own love for your father against you, twisting it, twisting you into something you never wanted to be. He’s doing it again, Alayne. Why can’t you see that? He’s using your love for me, your fear of losing me, to his own ends. Why can’t you see it? Why do you let him do it? Because you can’t help it,” he sighed, answering his own question.

“Because, to you, it’s more real than any argument Zerith or I could present. I just hope that nothing bad comes of letting you convince me to do this.” He clammed up and jerked his head up when he heard the door begin to creak open. Callie poked her head through the crack and gestured for him to come out in the hallway. “What now?” he mouthed silently. She gestured again, with more emphasis, and he sighed. Waiting until she closed the door, he crawled out of the bed, careful not to wake Alayne, and dressed quickly. Leaning down until his face hovered inches over hers, Ger’alin made certain that his wife still slept soundly before padding out into the hallway, his boots in his hands.

“Took long enough,” Callie muttered. “There’s been a change in plans. Some Broken came in not an hour ago. He says that he’s been watching us. If we want to sneak in to the Temple, we’re going to have to do it tonight. Don’t ask me; ask him,” she snapped, leading Ger’alin down the corridor towards the room where the others waited. “Zerith isn’t happy about the sudden change either. He wasn’t happy about my forgetting to knock as well,” she cackled softly. “Poor Dar’ja.”

Ger’alin ignored her wisecracks and continued down the corridor, pausing outside of the large meeting room to stamp his feet in his boots. Running his fingers through his hair, he wished he’d taken a moment to untangle it. Clearing his throat and his mind, he pushed open the door and walked in. Zerith glanced up and frowned at the Blood Knight, wishing that he’d been sound asleep when Callie had peeked in on him. “Ger’alin, this is Akama,” the priest said, making quick introductions. “He leads a group that calls themselves the ‘Ashtongue Deathsworn.’ Illidan thinks they’re loyal to him but Akama has assured me that they are not.”

“Forgive me for speaking so,” Ger’alin said, not taking the time to consider the wisdom of his words, “but sudden allies appearing out of thin air seems a little too…convenient. What proof do you…”

“I will overlook your suspicions, blood elf,” Akama rasped, his voice sounding like gravel scratching over broken pavement. “You’ve done me a good turn, whether you know it or not. When you killed the naga following Vashj and freed my people, you also freed a friend of mine who was being tortured because that serpentine bitch was on to us. Olum asked me to ask after your wife, the warlock. How is she?” Ger’alin glared daggers at the Broken but Akama met his gaze evenly. “If that’s not enough to convince you, perhaps she will,” he said, pointing to a cloaked and hooded figure standing in the shadows of the room.

The woman strode into the light from the fire and, lifting a pair of slender but well-muscled hands, pulled back the hood of her cloak to reveal cold, pitiless night elven features. “Maiev Shadowsong has waited long years for her chance to re-capture Illidan.”

“Maiev, the warden?” Zerith asked, sounding stunned. His legs gave out and he plopped into the chair behind him, his muscles gone to water. “Why would 195

you…how…what…?” he asked, glancing back and forth between the Broken and the night elf.

“It is a long tale,” Maiev said, her deep voice filled with intensity. “For years, I have sat in the aptly-named ‘Warden’s Cage.’ For years, I have waited for Akama’s schemes to play themselves out, for the chance to undo what Tyrande did. Now, it is upon us.”

“Why tonight? Why right this moment?” Ger’alin asked, sounding unconvinced.

“Your prince has sent an envoy to the Black Temple,” Akama answered. “We have…diverted them. However, Illidan knows they are coming. He expects them this night. If you wish to enter the Black Temple, to see for yourselves what awaits you, you must take their place. With luck, Illidan will be so pre-occupied with the Dragonmaw and his plans for them that he will not look too closely at Kael’s envoy.”

“Why would Kael’thas send an envoy to Illidan? I thought he was going his own way with the Legion,” Ger’alin mused.

“Your prince is a tricky one. Yes, we know he’s gone over to the Legion, swearing allegiance to Kil’jaeden. However, we’ve managed to keep that bit of information from reaching Illidan. The Lord of Outland thinks that Kael is merely…over-ambitious. He does not realize that the Lord of the Sin’dorei has his own plan in motion,” Akama replied, grinning in amusement. “So many stones cast into destiny’s river… so many ripples reaching out, moving us forward.”

“How do you know so much about us?” Ger’alin demanded.

“My spies are everywhere,” Akama muttered. “The wind, the rocks…they speak with my followers. When we heard from Olum that a group calling itself the ‘Disorder of Azeroth’ had cast Vashj and her damnable naga down, we began to pay closer attention to you. We know of your disarming the mana bomb at Firewing Point. We know that you’ve allied with the Scryers. We know that you brought down Magtheridon and convinced the Dragonmaw to redeem their honor. Your actions have rippled through Outland, setting my own plans in motion before I even realized the time was nigh. Now, you will need my help in order to fulfill those plans. I offer it to you.”

“Why?” “I was once a priest, like him,” Akama said, pointing to Zerith. “The Temple was my home, my life. When the orcs came, twisted and tainted by the Legion, I was forced to flee my home, to leave my life behind. Then, Illidan came and I saw the chance to regain what I had lost… I will bear the price of that misjudgment until the day I die, sin’dorei. Now, I have the chance to make it right; to free the sacred Temple of evil. Have you ever loved something so much, Blood Knight, that you would kill or die to defend it?” Ger’alin nodded, thinking of the warlock who had captivated him from almost the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.

“Then you know how I feel. The Temple is all I have left of the time before the Light departed from me. For the chance to restore it to its former glory and tranquility, I would ally with just about anyone.”

“We will go with you,” Ger’alin said after a long pause. Zerith did a double-take and stared, goggle-eyed, at his friend. Ger’alin waved him to silence, never looking away from Akama. “How many spies can you sneak in?” ~*~*~*~ “Alayne is going to freak out and I don’t think that anything I or anyone else says will calm her down,” Zerith muttered direly as he helped Ger’alin fasten the straps holding the Sunfury captain’s armor together.

“She’ll sleep until mid-morning, hopefully,” Ger’alin grunted. “I hate ceremonial armor. It’s useless.”

196

“How does this hook on there?” Zerith asked, holding up a pair of ornate shoulder guards.

“That belt slides under this fastener and hooks around here,” Ger’alin answered, demonstrating. He sat down in a chair to give the other man a chance to finish strapping on the shoulder plates while he fastened the gauntlets and arm plates. “Just do me a favor and keep an eye on her while I’m gone.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Zerith. Don’t let her out of your sight unless she’s with someone you trust absolutely.”

“I promise.”

“Zerith, if she vanishes again so help me Light, I will… If I come back and she’s run off on some mad scheme to try to ‘save’ us all…”

“I’ll take care of her,” Zerith promised. “Now, you’d better get going. I’d hate for your cover to be blown because you arrived too late.” Ger’alin nodded and stood up. Slipping the Sunfury tabard over his head, he belted the captain’s sword around his waist and tucked the helm under his arm. Presenting himself for inspection, he tried not to laugh when Zerith scrutinized him, tugging the tabard straight and stepping back to inspect him with a careful eye. “You’ll do. Get going.”

Ger’alin gave a mocking salute and ducked out the door. Out in the courtyard before the gates, the others were waiting. He waved to Callie before joining them. “You’re late,” Akama said accusingly. “We should have been gone five minutes ago. You’ll have to jog to make up the time.”

“I love a good run,” Ger’alin grinned, settling the helm on his head. “Everyone knows who they are supposed to be, right?”

“Indeed we do, Captain Pa’lar,” Bara’la giggled. “I am Kael’s envoy to Illidan. My mission is to offer the Sunfury’s forces to retake our mutual holdings in Zangarmarsh. My prince has…impressed upon me the law handed down by Lord Stormrage: ‘who controls the waters, controls Outland.’ You,” she laughed, pointing to Ger’alin and the other men decked out in Sunfury armor, “are my guard, hand-picked for the task by Lord Sanguinar himself.”

“If you play your part well,” Akama sighed, “and if the others will hold their tongues, you may slip past Illidan. At the very worst, Bara’la, you would be imprisoned. If you can bluff your way with the Illidari elves, more likely than not they’ll help you to escape. Kael’s elves have little love for the ‘half-demon mongrel.’”

“And if the worst happens,” Ger’alin said quietly, “she’s got enough dreamfoil to ease her into the next life. Let’s look sharp,” he continued, firming his voice. “We’ve got a job to do.” Taking off at a trot, he led his spies towards the Black Temple, glancing over his shoulder only once to gaze back at the window to the room where his wife slept. ~*~*~*~ The Black Temple loomed in front of the six sin’dorei as they made their way down the broken pathway leading to the imposing doors. Nestled among the mountains, the Temple had once looked like a true sanctuary. Beneath the blood and dust still staining the oncegolden walls, Ger’alin could see the hidden beauty that had made the Temple of Karabor a refuge from the small troubles of ancient Draenor. Now it dominated where once it had melded, rivaling only the twisted Hand of Gul’dan for the tingling terror it caused in an onlooker. Striding up to the doors, he lifted a gauntleted fist and pounded against them.

“Who comes?” came the customary challenge.

“Envoy Anar’la,” Bara’la said in lofty tones. “King Sunstrider wishes to offer his assistance to the Lord of Outland and Master of the Black Temple.”

197

“Lord Stormrage has been expecting you,” the reply came as the enormous doors swung silently open. The sin’dorei who gestured them in ignored the guards completely, to Ger’alin’s relief. “Did the rebels give you any trouble?”

“None at all,” Bara’la laughed. “They rarely venture out of their little hiding places.

No doubt the naaru fear a repeat of Tempest Keep if they send their mewling worshippers after us.”

“Do not speak so of Voren’thal,” a deep voice said. The Illidari elves froze, their fear evident in their eyes. The speaker strode forward. Ger’alin gasped and was relieved to see that he was not the only one so affected. Walking out of the shadows of the entrance was Illidan Stormrage. His face could have been carved from the rocky mountains surrounding his domain so hard and expressionless it was. Green flames, akin to the fel green glow in sin’dorei eyes, danced from behind the dark cloth band bound around his head. Twin horns curved from his forehead, turning back until the points almost buried themselves in his long jet-black hair. Illidan gazed down upon the Sunfury, his face impassive and his muscular arms crossed over his bare chest, partially obscuring the green tattoos that Alayne had said were a gift from Sargeras. The half night elf’s ears twitched as he lifted a hand and tapped a thick finger against his cheek. “Kael was a fool not to kill Voren’thal when he had the chance. Now that traitor’s movement has grown from pebble in the shoe to a full-fledged problem. When your prince…”

“King,” one of the Illidari elves near Ger’alin muttered beneath his breath. “…does something as foolish as what he has done with the so-called Scryers, it makes me wonder if he is truly loyal to me. Now, what of control of Zangarmarsh? Your prince permitted another group of rebels to murder Lady Vashj! What is he doing to retake what he lost for me?”

“King Sunstrider is organizing a force at this moment to regain control of the waters of Zangarmarsh,” Bara’la ad-libbed quickly. “Why, we have orders to rendezvous with them on our return.”

“Do you?” Illidan asked, sounding amused. “Then we shall see how your ‘king’s’ plans fare. “Come with me,” he said, turning quickly. “Naj’entus will be most eager to hear your ‘king’s’ plan. What are you waiting for?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Ger’alin. “Certainly you, Captain, are the one who will know the most of military matters.

This lady,” he grinned mockingly, “is merely a messenger. Come along. I want to hear what your ‘king’ has up his sleeve.”

Ger’alin sighed and hurried after the pair, exchanging wide-eyed glances with Bara’la. He hoped that his skill at bluffing would be equal to the challenge. The other guards dispersed quickly, shaking hands with the Illidari sin’dorei and praying that their spy-work would not be noticed. Ger’alin caught some of the Broken watching them, desperation painted plainly on their twisted faces. “Light, be with us,” he prayed, feeling acid rising in the pit of his stomach.

Illidan led them deeper into the Temple. Massive doors flew open when the demon raised his hand. Ger’alin gaped at Stormrage’s raw power. No wonder Alayne feared the very thought of confronting him. The man wielded arcane energies with a flourish and a strength that most sin’dorei could only dream of attaining. Had he been this powerful before his dreadful transformation – or had becoming the very demon he despised granted him more power? Through the Temple he led them, elves giving the trio wide berth and demons, wrenched to this plane and enslaved by a half-demon, glared at them. Ger’alin could feel the un-natural creatures’ hatred pummeling him. If ever they broke loose… He shuddered. Likely killing Illidan – or even hurting the man, were such a thing possible – would set them free.

He would need to keep that in mind when making his report. Hopefully, some of the

198

Dragonmaw warlocks would be able to join in and help the warlocks under Alayne’s command keep the fel creatures from wreaking havoc.

Once or twice as Ger’alin took his mental notes, Illidan glanced back over his shoulder at the man, his face carefully neutral. It was obvious to anyone who remained in the Temple long that the former night elf did not trust Kael’s followers any further than he could have thrown the very Temple itself. Still, something about the strange captain demanded his attention. This sin’dorei was unlike any other ‘blood knights’ Illidan had encountered.

Something oddly familiar, oddly comforting, lurked in the air around him. Unbidden thoughts of a woman, her long silver hair framing delicate features, flooded the demon’s mind. Anger burned through him at the thoughts – that had been long ago; he had been a different being altogether. Shaking his head in irritation, Illidan stumped down the corridors of his dominion, the two sin’dorei in tow. Finally, they stopped before a pair of doors carved with ancient emblems that proclaimed the rooms behind belonged to one of the Highborne. Illidan grinned mirthlessly as he threw them open. A serpentine hiss greeted them. “Lord Illidan,” Naj’entus said, his words less sounds than growls. Ger’alin strained to understand him. “Why am I being kept here when my place is in Zangarmarsh?”

“Enough, Naj’entus. You served the Lady well. You will serve her by serving me.

Kael’thas has sent word that he intends to make good on his failure to keep his rebellious subjects out of our hair. These two,” he said, turning and pointing at Bara’la and Ger’alin, “will tell us everything we wish to know about the rebels, their forces, and their dispositions.

If they don’t,” Illidan grinned, “they’ll have the distinct pleasure of watching their friends die. Now,” the demon said firmly, gesturing. The doors slammed shut and several pair of naga guards surrounded Ger’alin and Bara’la. “Let’s start with who you really are.”

Ger’alin reached for his sword, praying that he would at least give a good account of himself. He regretted not listening to Alayne; whether from Arthas or not, her visions had been right. He was going to die here. “No need for that,” Illidan laughed, reaching into one of his pouches. Ger’alin’s arm went limp, his hand falling away from the hilt of his sword.

“You’ll answer my questions beginning with what young Kael is really planning in that naaru vessel he fancies his palace. You will answer me truthfully or…” Ger’alin felt every muscle in his body clench. The floor rushed up to meet him as he collapsed, liquid agony coursing through his veins. The air seemed to turn to fire in his throat as he screamed, howling in pain unlike any he had ever known before. His skin felt as if every inch of his body were being beaten with white-hot whips. For long moments, all he could do was twist and writhe in torment, inhuman screams being ripped from his throat. Distantly, he could hear Bara’la howling in similar torment. He hoped she would be able to find ease; they’d given her the only means of certain escape when they thought she’d have been the only one to face Stormrage. Finally, the pain began to subside. Shuddering sobs shivered through Ger’alin’s raw throat as he gasped for air. Once he was able to think of anything other than the tearing pain, he noticed that the naga were hovering over Bara’la, hissing in their strange, snakish language. Had they killed her? Had she chewed the leaves already? How had she been able to do that if she’d been in anywhere near as much pain as he? “Take her to the cells. Tell her that if this nut doesn’t crack,” he said, jerking a thumb at Ger’alin, “she’ll think what she just experienced was a lover’s fond caress. Now you, Blood Knight,” he growled, coming to stand over Ger’alin, “you will tell me everything.” ~*~*~*~ Akama growled, his snarl sounding like that of an enraged feral beast. “How did they get captured?” he demanded of the Broken who still gasped, trying to capture his breath.

“Fal’na!”

199

“I am not sure, Akama,” Fal’na said, gulping in air. “Illidan must have seen through their story. Either that, or he trusts Kael even less than we had imagined.”

“Where are they being held?” Akama snarled, sweat beading on his forehead. It could not go wrong now; he was so close to attaining his revenge on that demon!

“Most of the guards have been taken in by their sin’dorei brethren. Not that the elves are treating them gently. The Illidari are enraged; they fear that their cover might soon be blown. I believe that the elven council is planning to take control of questioning them. If that happens, they may very well learn that we’ve allied with the Horde and Dragonmaw. Still, if the spies can hold through, if they are strong enough, they may be able to convince the Illidari they do serve Kael. That would ease their torment a little; give us a chance to break them free. I’ve set Gal’in and Dav’ri to keep an eye on the prisoners there. Under the guise of bringing them food, they’ll instruct them on how to hold out and what to say.”

“Most of the guards? What of the others?”

“Bara’la, the woman pretending to be the envoy, is under our care. She nearly chewed her tongue in half when Illidan first confronted her. Olum was able to convince the naga and the demon to let us look after her. After all, Illidan knows that our healing is a rough kind; less likely to bring comfort than merely ease pain. We should be able to stage a break out that would be convincing.”

“Is that all?” Akama sighed, feeling relieved.

“No,” Fal’na sighed, his face falling. “The one called Ger’alin is being held by Illidan himself. The only guards he’ll allow to watch the ‘captain’ are the naga loyal to him. We’ve not yet been able to learn how much Ger’alin may have told them.”

Akama nodded and waved the other man away. Fal’na stumped off, feeling wrung out like a wet cloth. The leader of the Ashtongue Deathsworn settled himself on one of the many stones scattered about his broken lair, resting an elbow on one knee and his chin on his fist.

Thinking furiously, he tried to devise a scheme that would allow the spies to go free without giving him – or that bastard Kael – completely away. The Broken had seen how effective Illidan’s torture was; many of the Illidari demons served out of fear of facing that again. With the defection of the Dragonmaw warlocks, that fear was probably the only thing keeping the demons from running amuck. Letting his mind sort through the possibilities, Akama moaned when he realized that, short of committing suicide and giving everything away, there was no way to free Ger’alin. The Broken pushed himself off of his seat and cast about for his walking stick. The Blood Knight and the priest leading the Disorder of Azeroth had mentioned – in hushed mutters where they thought no one else could hear – that a friend of theirs had somehow foreseen a catastrophe. The black-robed leader of the Ashtongue Deathsworn wanted to speak with this prophet of theirs, praying that whoever it was would be able to foresee a way out of this mess. ~*~*~*~ “So, night elven sorcery relies mostly on channeling energies from a fixed point?”

Alayne asked Mordenai. She knew the answer already but needed an excuse to discuss the issue. Anything to keep her mind off the fact that she’d awakened to find Ger’alin gone. “In that regard, they are not so dissimilar to our magi,” she mused, pushing away the fear she felt trying to close her throat and darken her consciousness. “We, too, relied on the Sunwell to infuse us with its energy.”

“And that is why, unlike humans, gnomes, and trolls, you elves have a tendency to become highly addicted to the arcane,” Mordenai pointed out. “My kind have watched your people long; while you learned the lessons from the Sundering and did well in hiding your use of the arcane from the Legion, your people are still dependent on such energies.”

200

“The Sunwell…,” she said, sighing, “I was only a child when it was destroyed but I can still recall how its existence made mine brighter. When we lost it…,” “I know,” Mordenai said softly. “You went into withdrawal. Those too old, too young, or too weak to find a way to stave off the addiction died or succumbed to it. I’ve seen…are you well?” he asked, sounding concerned. Alayne had glanced over towards the gate, her face turning an ugly white and her jaw falling open. Mordenai looked over, surprised to see the Broken leader, Akama, stumping through.

“Light no,” Alayne whispered, her lips taking on a bluish-green tint. “No, no, no.

They promised me he’d never…not even in the same room, they said!” Zerith saw Akama and, leaving Maiev to continue her demonstration to the fighters of how to counter Illidan’s attacks, hurried over. He shot a look filled with fear and concern at his sister, seeing that she was rooted to the spot. Mordenai, still having no idea what was going on, shook the woman gently. Alayne watched, the fear she’d fought to keep at bay gnawing its way through her guts, up her throat, and searing her mind. The two men put their heads together. Akama gestured forcefully. The snatches of conversation she caught told her that the Broken was angry and upset. Zerith put a hand over his heart as if he’d been struck in the chest by a heavy weight. His other hand shot out to keep him from falling face-first into the wall of the building next to them. Akama made soothing gestures, forcing his face to calmness, trying to reassure the priest. Alayne watched as her brother shook his head slowly and, regaining control of himself, straightened. Sheer panic seized her as the pair began walking towards her and Mordenai. She wanted to scream; she knew what they would tell her. She’d suspected since waking but she knew, the moment Akama had walked through the gates…

“Illidan has captured my husband,” she whispered when Zerith and Akama drew near.

She thought she heard someone gasp in horror before the world went dark. ~*~*~*~ “How did she know?” Akama asked, sounding as if he did not quite believe it himself.

Zerith and Mordenai had carried the unconscious woman back to her room and were still trying to revive her. “How?” “That’s a good question,” Zerith growled as he lifted his sister’s eyelids and peered at her pupils. “Ger’alin and I think that it’s a leftover from her time as a death knight in the service of the Lich King. We think it may be the Lich King trying to throw us off the path we should take. But now…now I’m not so certain. The last few times she’s seen something, according to Ger’alin, either she didn’t know what it was exactly or whatever it was did not come to pass. That’s why we doubted it. Next time, we’re listening to her.”

“She was a death knight? Like Teron Gorefiend?” Akama asked, backing away and staring at the woman in horror. Zerith gaped at the man, his mind working quickly to try to recall what little he knew of Gorefiend. Mordenai stepped in, saving the priest the trouble.

“No,” he replied. “Not like Gorefiend. More like Arthas Menethil, if you have heard of him?”

“I have heard of Arthas,” Akama nodded slowly. “A living man who gave his soul to death. A dark paladin. I have served Illidan for long years since his defeat at Arthas’s hands. I know well that story. But, if she is a death knight…”

“She was a death knight. She isn’t anymore,” Zerith snapped. “She was tricked and seduced into serving the Scourge. She broke free of them and returned to us. Do not speak of her so again. Alayne?” he said softly, seeing her rouse.

“Please tell me this is a dream!” she pleaded. “Tell me that Akama is not here.”

“I wish I could,” Zerith sighed. “Ger’alin has been captured. So have the others.

Apparently, your foresight saw clearly that going up against Illidan would be a bad idea,” he 201

said euphemistically, not wanting to refer to the fact that she believed Ger’alin would die because of this. “We need to know if you’ve seen any more. Is there any way we could break him out?”

“I don’t know,” she said, tears trickling down the corners of her closed eyes. “All I know is that…he’s going to die,” she finished, her voice a faint whisper.

“Illidan is going to kill him? If so, maybe if we attack now…”

“Illidan would not kill him,” Akama said flatly. “Not until he’s drained Ger’alin of everything the man knows. And, from what little I’ve seen of your friend, Stormrage would be a long, long time breaking him down.”

“I don’t know,” Zerith muttered, looking back and forth from his sister to Akama.

“We discounted her visions before. If we listen to you, are we making the same mistake again? Alayne,” he asked, raising his voice slightly, “did you see that Illidan would kill Ger’alin?”

“No,” she moaned. “Just that, because of his capture, something is going to happen and he’s going to die. Light, we’ve killed him,” she sobbed, stuffing a fist in her mouth. “I couldn’t convince him…and now he’s going to die!”

“Mordenai, would you stay with her? Make certain she…doesn’t do anything rash,” Zerith whispered to the strange elf who seemed to have taken Alayne under his wing. “I need to speak with Garrosh and Mor’ghor. We should hasten our plans. The less time Ger’alin and the others are prisoners, the less time Illidan has to do whatever it is she thinks he’s going to do.” The silver-haired man nodded and took a chair at the foot of the bed. His gaze strayed to the door and back to the weeping woman, discomfort clear on his face. Zerith told himself firmly that the best way to help his sister was to get her husband out of Illidan’s clutches as soon as he could. Striding out of the room, he motioned for Akama to follow him. Giving orders to a pair of orc guards, he all but ran to the room where they made their plans, the Broken hurrying along in his wake. After a few minutes, the orc chieftains hurried in.

“We were told that there is dire news,” Garrosh said, glancing at Akama uncertainly.

He held himself stiffly as if bracing for a blow.

“Our spies were found out,” Zerith said baldly. “We must step up preparations for our attack.” ~*~*~*~ A faint light trickled in through Ger’alin’s eyelids. He squeezed them shut more tightly, bearing down so hard that his ears rang with the effort. While he slept, he did not feel the pain that had become his constant companion in the last day and a half. Not that he had much chance to sleep. Illidan and his demons kept the sin’dorei up long hours with their torture. He tried to lift his head, groaning when it fell back against the floor. He felt as if a goblin had set off some explosive device inside his skull while a battalion of dwarves pounded at his temples with massive hammers. His neck felt like a mass of jelly from the mere effort of trying to lift his head. He kept his eyes shut; the faint light burned his retinas as if he were staring directly into the sun.

“Ah, awake, are we?” Illidan asked mockingly. “Are you ready to answer my questions yet? Or do you need more convincing?” Lifting a hand idly, Illidan grinned as the sin’dorei arched his back, his jaws clenched to try to hold back screams. Ger’alin heaved great gasping breaths between his teeth as he felt every muscle in his body tighten. He continued to arch upwards, only his head and feet remaining on the floor. He could feel his spine starting to give way. The pain was excruciating. Time and time again during the long hours of his confinement, Illidan had twisted the sin’dorei up, manipulating the man’s body

202

against his will, weakening him. Ger’alin wondered, through a haze of agony, if he would ever be able to move on his own again – provided Illidan didn’t kill him, of course.

As Ger’alin arched further, his head nearly touching his feet, he let the cries come.

Tears trickled down his forehead, dripping on the floor. Agonized shouts were ripped from a throat already hoarse from screaming most of the night. And still, he continued to twist back upon himself, feeling the muscles and the bones of his back, hips, and legs start to crack under the strain.

He groaned with relief when Illidan let him drop, collapsing back onto the floor in a heap of pain. Ger’alin wiggled his toes, not caring that the effort burned fires through his legs. He could still feel his body, pain-filled as it was. That counted for something. He gasped, gulping for air through a raw and torn throat, sucking it into his lungs gratefully, knowing that each breath could be his last. In the long hours of the previous day, Ger’alin had given up any real hope of surviving his imprisonment. The others had managed to escape; perhaps Akama had devised a means to smuggle them out. He didn’t know and, at this point, he no longer cared. With every pulse that shot white-hot acid through his veins, he prayed that darkness would close over him. A momentary pang at the thought of leaving Alayne tugged at his heart, threatening to break it – to break him. He quashed it relentlessly. He’d held out so long…he couldn’t give in to the demon now.

“You’re a tough one,” Illidan mused, grudging respect in his voice. “Still, you will break, eventually. You will tell me what it is your prince wishes to hide from me. I know his ruse, you see. He is over-ambitious to the point of insanity! No doubt those ‘rebels’ who killed Vashj are his secret forces. You will tell me what I want to know, sin’dorei! The others may be gone – you are the only elf left in the Black Temple – but you will tell me!”

Ger’alin said nothing. He merely continued to gasp for air and prayed that the Light would shine its mercy on him soon and grant him release. He tensed, preparing for the pain, preparing to fight it, to struggle against it, to keep up the fight until Illidan was forced to go too far. When, after long moments, he felt nothing but the ease of tired muscles and soreness, he ventured to open one eye. Slamming it shut almost immediately, he groaned. Seared into his mind was the after-image of Illidan hoisting something in one of his hands – staring at it as if weighing options he had never believed he’d have to consider. “There are ways… All of you fools suffer, as I did, from arcane addiction. That was what led your prince to follow me.

He was desperate to find a way to feed that hunger. I gave him the methods to save your people.” Ger’alin’s brows lifted slightly in surprise. He’d always thought that Kael himself had discovered the method to feed off of the magic energy of other beings. That was certainly what the leaders among the sin’dorei had told all the recruits. “Your prince has ever been ambitious. He lusts for more and more power. He has not learned, as I have,” the demon muttered softly, so softly Ger’alin had to strain to hear, “that power comes with a price.”

Illidan flapped his wings irritably, closing his fingers around the vial of water. He could remember still the day he’d been caught with the vials. He’d saved the night elves from certain death and destruction by creating a second Well of Eternity. His brother had repaid him with ten millennia of imprisonment beneath the earth. He’d given up part of his mortality, part of his very self, in order to acquire the power needed to help his people again.

He’d consumed the Skull of Gul’dan only because it was necessary – necessary! – to fight the Legion’s fire with fire! For that, he’d earned exile from his homeland. “Why has Kael turned against me? What does he seek now? Tell me these things and I will protect you from his wrath. Tell me and I will teach you the one thing I never taught him: how to actually tap into the water from the Well. Your kind craves power above all else,” he mused, as if speaking to himself instead of Ger’alin. “I will show you true power!” he hissed softly. Ger’alin braced himself, waiting for the pain to begin.

203

A golden glow surrounded him, permeating his very being. Ger’alin gasped, shivering in shocked delight as the pain he’d begun to accept as part of himself vanished. He could feel his bones and muscles mending themselves; stretched and torn ligaments easing, returning to their normal size and place. He opened an eye experimentally, surprised to see that the light surrounding him caused him no pain. He felt a tingling thrill of exhilaration. The pain was gone!

Illidan watched the elf push himself up and test his returning strength, husbanding it as if afraid that it would vanish as quickly as it had come back. The demon grinned and continued to channel. Exhilaration became ecstasy. Ger’alin shook, sweat pouring out of every pore of his body as he felt a rising bliss more intense than any he had experienced before in his life. A memory from childhood, from the days before the Sunwell’s destruction, niggled at the back of his mind. The sensation was akin to that but more…more pure, more real. Not even his most tender, passionate moments with Alayne came close to matching the pure joy he felt surging through him. He tried to stand and collapsed to his hands and knees, shaking, overcome with the rush flooding through him. Illidan watched, gauging the sin’dorei’s reaction, beginning to taper off the flow of power when the man seemed on the verge of passing out from pure bliss. An hour passed before Ger’alin was able to regain control of himself, of his thoughts. True clarity eluded him even after the effects of Illidan’s magic departed. All he knew was that he wanted to experience that warmth, that wholeness, again. “Answer my questions,” Illidan repeated, “and not only will you experience it again,” he said, answering the unasked question. “I will gift you with the ability to feed that desire yourself. Now, who are you really? What is your prince doing?”

Ger’alin tried to gather his thoughts; part of him wanted to confess to everything. All that held his tongue was fear that Illidan would be angered to learn that he was involved in Vashj’s downfall. Casting about through the haze the ecstasy had left in his mind, he searched for enough information to please the demon but not enough to damn him to the bland reality he existed in now. “I…I’m a spy, sent by Kael’thas. My mission was to alert the other sin’dorei that the time to strike is drawing near. Kael plans to move against you in order to prove his worth to the Legion; he’s sworn fealty to Kil’jaeden. Kael’thas hired a band of assassins to attack and kill Lady Vashj. They are currently mixing with the Scryers and are behind the death of Magtheridon as well. Forgive me, my Lord!” he begged, pleased at coming up with such a neat story so quickly and galled at the same time for lying to his savior who could wield delight and destruction with equal deftness.

“Tell me about these assassins,” Illidan ordered, the flames in his eye sockets boring into Ger’alin’s head relentlessly, demanding utter truth. “Tell me the truth and life will become very, very pleasant for you. Lie to me…,” he left the threat hanging in the air.

Part of Ger’alin’s mind watched in rising horror as he gibbered out everything he knew about the Disorder of Azeroth. Tears of remorse flowed down his cheeks and the flow of information was broken as he bawled like a baby. Still, he could not stop himself. The thought of Illidan leaving him bereft of that wonder, of the demon letting him suffer the rest of his life from the gnawing hunger he could feel eating at his soul…where pain had not broken him, pleasure had. Tears of bitterness mixed with those of remorse as he continued to pour information out. When he was finally finished, he stared at the ground, blinking tears and sweat out of his eyes. He knelt, hands splayed to keep him from pitching over on his face. He felt as if he’d been rung out – like an old towel left too long in the water. His heart writhed in his chest, breaking as he realized he had just handed his friends, his companions, his wife over to the mongrel Lord of the Black Temple.

“It is well that you told me the truth,” Illidan said. The Blood Knight felt a strong hand reach for his chin and force his face up. Closing his eyes, he prayed that the demon would strangle him, would tear his throat out. He deserved no less for his betrayal. “You will 204

serve me better than you have served Kael,” he said simply, as if stating a fact. “Now for your reward…,” he grinned maniacally. Ger’alin groaned through clenched teeth as a golden wave of pure energy shot through him. All thought, all fear, all anguish vanished. His last coherent thought was that he wished one day to share this with Alayne.

Illidan watched impassively as the sin’dorei writhed, moaning and shivering with pure delight. The demon could remember his first taste of such power and the way it had filled him, warming him, thrilling him in a manner nothing else had since. He let the other man enjoy this little gift, grinning inwardly. Before long, this Ger’alin would be a willing slave. If fed to him in drips and drabs, soon this Blood Knight would do anything Illidan asked of him, including stand against his own people.

“M-m-master?” one of the Broken stuttered. Illidan. The demon let one of his ears twitch back, signaling that he was listening without turning his attention away from the sin’dorei. “Y-your orders?” Illidan nodded, lost in thought, making plans for this sin’dorei.

He would break the man completely, send him back to Kael as a shattered vessel renewed, filled with Stormrage’s own plans. What a pity it would be to lose both of them. Still, Kael and his followers had to be taught a lesson and the man himself had said he was expendable.

Illidan let the power flow a few moments longer, ceasing when Ger’alin blacked out.

“You,” Illidan said, pointing at the Broken. “Come with me. Naj’entus will prepare an escort for you. I want you to report to the Dragonmaw. Those noble savages should honor the request for a parlay. You will arrange one, set for three days from now.”

“A p-p-parley. T-t-three days from now,” the Broken stammered, nodding. Illidan returned his nod. “W-w-what terms will you offer them?”

“That is for me to know,” Illidan snapped. “Now go.” As the Broken hurried off, Illidan glanced back over at the unconscious man. His blind eyes could see the shimmer of arcane energies that outlined the sin’dorei. He grinned mirthlessly. Kael had come to him for a cure for that addiction. How surprised the so-called ‘sun king’ would be when he learned just how easily that weakness could undo him, and all his damnable race. In three days, that Blood Knight would be willing to do almost anything Illidan asked of him for just a taste of power. Still, something about the man tugged at a corner of his mind, bringing memories he’d buried long ago. Something was different about this sin’dorei, if only Illidan could put his finger on what… ~*~*~*~ “What did you see?” Zerith demanded when the Broken made his report to Akama and the others. “Did you see him?”

“He…he was not injured,” the Broken sighed. “I’m not certain what Stormrage was doing to him but I don’t trust it.”

“Do you think he’s revealed anything of our plans?” Akama broke in. While he understood the priest’s concern for his friend, they needed to know how to adapt their plans.

The scout shrugged and glanced around uncertainly.

“We’d best operate on the assumption that Ger’alin has told them everything,” Zerith sighed. “‘Hope for the best but prepare for the worst; then surprises are always pleasant,’” the priest quoted his friend beneath his breath. “You may leave,” he said, dismissing the Broken.

Akama glared at the sin’dorei. Zerith met his eyes evenly. The scout backed out of the room, bowing to the battle leaders. “We will revise our plan,” Zerith said finally. “Are there any other entrances? Besides the ones that you mentioned when Ger’alin was here, I mean.”

“There is the old sewer entrance,” Akama sighed. “Illidan sealed it up, though. It would take a day, maybe two, to break through the seal. I didn’t mention it before because it’s very narrow and the way there is treacherous. You’ll have to go through single file, 205

making you an easy target should Illidan catch wind of it. Beyond that, the naga claim the area as their own.” Zerith nodded and pulled up a rolled parchment. Flattening it, he jabbed a finger into the center of the diagram.

“Show me where the sewer entrance opens out to,” he said. Akama moved to show him but was brushed out of the way by Mor’ghor. The Broken glared at the orc chieftain; though they were allies now, there was little love lost between the former enemies.

“They are here,” Mor’ghor said, pointing to a point on the Temple’s southern side.

They empty out into the void behind the Temple now. Getting into the pipes will be tricky; the rocks are slick with refuse. One false step would mean falling off the world, forever.”

“Who speaks of false steps?” Akama harrumphed loudly. “Will the dragons not help us? The entry is large enough for the young ones to fit in. Two or three people could ride in on one dragon, have him land inside the pipe, climb off, and then let him return to ferry more in.”

“Perhaps they could be used as such. However, we would need to ask them. Already, they plan to assault the Temple from the air; force Illidan to expend his energy defending against their bombardment. But, perhaps, Broken one, they could help. Perhaps,” Mor’ghor mused grumpily. Zerith tried not to glare at the pair; he wanted to hit both of them. Ger’alin was no doubt being tortured while they argued and tried to settle scores decades in the making. The sin’dorei priest didn’t know who annoyed him more: Mor’ghor and Garrosh with his constant insistence on the Dragonmaw leading the foray, or Akama, who maintained his arguments about doing things just so, determined to play out a scheme he’d spent years dreaming up. And, meanwhile, Ger’alin suffered some unknowable torment… Alayne went so long without sleeping that she would fall face-first into her food when someone managed to drag her away from her books for a meal… Callie had sharpened her daggers until the edge began inches from the visible blade… Zerith lifted his hands and rubbed them across his eyes, forcing his worries to the back of his mind. For now, he had to concentrate on devising a battle plan that not even Ger’alin would be able to predict. He threw himself in one of the chairs and, covering his eyes with a hand, focused his thoughts. The orcs and Akama fell silent, staring at the sin’dorei. For long moments, he sat, unmoving, drafting plans and discarding them. Ger’alin knew him too well; knew the tactics he favored. Whatever he did, it had to be something Ger’alin would never dream he would do. A soft rap on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he growled irritably. For a moment, he’d been close to something that might have worked. His irritation deepened when his sister stepped into the room. The last thing he needed right now was to have to worry about her. His irritation melted as he looked her over. The sleepless nights – only two, so far – were graven on her ashen face. She’d been thin – too thin – since her return from Northrend. Now, her face appeared gaunt and haunted.

“What is it, Alayne?” he asked, trying to sound gentle.

“I spoke with the Broken scout,” she mumbled. “I think… I’d like to offer my services in battle.”

“Alayne, I am already planning to have you head up your caster squad.”

“Let me rephrase the statement,” she sighed. “I would like to offer you my services as…”

“As…?” he asked.

“As a death knight,” she said in a hushed rush. “I’ve been thinking it over,” she continued quickly, seeing her brother’s brow darken. “Illidan has only ever been beaten by one power: the Lich King’s. The only way I can see to overcome him is to use that power.

The others who returned have been able to wield it without succumbing to his control,” she explained to the priest while he shook his head. “I can do likewise. Let me take up the blade again and I can…”

206

“Ger’alin would have my hide tanned, salted, and stretched for a rug if I let you do that, Alayne,” Zerith said flatly. “And, frankly, I’d help him skin me if I were fool enough to even consider it. I know you want him rescued; I know you’re terrified of what he may be going through. But, I cannot let you use that un-natural corruption to help us.” Akama, Garrosh, and Mor’ghor all nodded their agreement. “Besides, you’re a very talented caster.

Your spells have more power than your physical attacks, no matter what source you draw strength from.” Alayne wilted under their gazes, nodding glumly, wiping a tear from her cheek. “You will be in the fore of the fight, my sister. You’ll get your chance to unleash hell on that demon who’s holding your husband. Now, leave us. We still have plans to make.”

Alayne nodded, her face still to the floor, and left the room.

“I’ve decided,” Zerith said suddenly, a few seconds after the door closed behind her.

Her offer, mad as it had been, had given him the final piece of the plan. “Here is what we are going to do and how we are going to do it.” Returning to the table, he began describing an elaborate, desperate, and daring plan. One that Ger’alin would never dream that Zerith would use. The priest silenced the nagging voice in his mind that said the reason Ger’alin wouldn’t consider it was because the plan bordered on insanity. “It’s risky, I know,” Zerith concluded.

“But, as far as I can see, it’s our only option.”

The others stared at him, dumbfounded. He braced himself, preparing mentally to combat their arguments. One by one, each broke into a broad grin and began laughing. “They will never see this coming!” Mor’ghor roared, wiping tears from his eyes. “A good plan, priest. A good plan.”

“Good?” Garrosh grinned. “This will go down in song as either the greatest battle of all time or as a warning of what never to attempt!” ~*~*~*~ Alayne paced restlessly around the inside of the fortress. She had paced the outer wall of the Keep four times since she’d made her offer to Zerith. Mordenai walked beside her, looking concerned. The woman had said nothing to him since stalking out of the room. He prayed her brother had put her off her mad scheme to use the dead. “What did he say?” the nether dragon disguised as a sin’dorei asked at last.

“Exactly what you said he’d say,” she muttered.

“Oh,” he replied. Alayne began her fifth circuit of the fortress, staring at the gate, grinding her teeth. Zerith was right; Ger’alin would rather die than have her use that unholy power to free him. Still, Arthas was the only person who had ever defeated Illidan. Perhaps there was something to the power of death that gave one an edge against the arcane. Alayne turned that thought over in her mind, wishing she knew more. Ger’alin and Zerith thought she knew so much when it came to magic of the major schools. They would be shocked to realize just how little she knew beyond the theory. “Did he tell you what he was planning?”

“No. He usually waits until he’s ready to tell everyone before revealing it to me. I wish I could have sat in on that meeting, though,” she sighed. “I don’t have Ger’alin’s mind when it comes to such matters but at least then…”

“You wouldn’t be feeling so useless and helpless,” Mordenai finished for her. “Well, there’s really nothing left to do but wait. I’ve explained to you possible ways to counter Stormrage’s magical attacks. Maiev has told all of you his preferred tactics. Akama and the Dragonmaw explained about the types of demons in the Temple. I’m sure that whatever your brother comes up with, it will be good. Everyone here seems to respect him immensely…

What’s the matter?” he asked, seeing that Alayne had begun to weep.

“That’s part of the problem,” she shuddered. “Any plan Zerith devises would be something Ger’alin could guess easily enough. We’re walking into a trap because, if 207

Stormrage has broken him… The only way I can see to beat him is to use that power.

Ger’alin would never suspect I’d do it unless he thought I might try to rescue him on my own. He knows Zerith would never let me do that so…”

“Zerith would never let you do what?” her brother asked, jogging up to her. He nodded at Mordenai, glad that the man had kept an eye on her. He feared that, if someone wasn’t watching her, she would slip off and try to rescue Ger’alin on her own. He grinned and wagged his head when Mordenai told him. “Alayne, I have devised a plan that will let us get in, rescue your husband, and put an end to Illidan. The demon’s mad request for a parlay along with your bringing Arthas to mind gave me the final pieces I needed to come up with this idea. Hear me out; I think this will work and would be something Ger’alin would never suspect I’d try.” He quickly outlined the plan he’d developed. Alayne seemed stunned by it.

He emphasized the role he needed her to play in the battle. Her brow knit together as she considered it.

“He’ll never see it coming, that’s for sure,” she muttered after a long pause. “Of course, that’s because it’s completely insane!”

“Sometimes insanity is the only option,” Zerith grinned. Alayne sputtered angrily, bristling like a wet cat. “And, it’s not insane. Just not something that seems logical or predictable. Will you be able to do your part without assistance? Or should I put two warlocks together for what I want?”

“I can do it,” she sighed. “If I have to do it for more than an hour, though, you’ll be carrying me back here. Only the Forsaken have that kind of stamina. How this is any better than my idea of overwhelming the demon with the dead, I’m not certain I’ll ever understand, but…”

“But you’re not going to do that. If you feel the need to unleash some anger during the battle, stick to flinging fire about. Frankly, I almost wish there were a way to trigger one of your blind rages,” he said flatly. “The power you can let loose when you get really angry is a thing to behold.” Mordenai lifted his brows in interest, giving the young woman a weighing look. Alayne flushed. She’d worked very hard to keep her temper in tight rein; to remind herself that death was a part of life. Her long talks with Zerith in the early days of her convalescence had done much to help her keep the over-protective, fiery, fiercely loving part of her personality from interfering with her life and relationships. She had come to learn that she could love and protect without clinging so tightly. She could worry without it controlling her life to the extent it had earlier. Still, that part of her worked hard, especially now, to try to regain control. She found herself becoming more and more convinced that her plan was the only way to achieve victory. “Alayne, no,” Zerith said firmly, glaring at her. He had gotten better at reading her expressions though, often, Ger’alin seemed practically psychic in his ability to know what Alayne was thinking. “I want an oath from you that you will not…”

“By the Light and by my hope of a restored Sunwell, I vow that I will not use the powers I learned in Northrend inasmuch as it is within my conscious control,” she said quickly. “I cannot promise, Zerith, that if I flew into one of my ‘blind rages’ that I won’t do something monumentally stupid.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” he sighed. “Come on. I’d better see that you eat something. I’ll mix you a potion to help you sleep. I don’t think you’ve done much of either since Ger’alin was captured.” He waved Mordenai away, desiring some time alone with his adopted sister. He rather liked the strange man; he knew that Alayne had been picking the hunter’s brain about history. Idly, as he escorted her to the mess hall, he wondered how old the other sin’dorei was.

“I’m not hungry,” Alayne announced quietly when the smells of cooking food hit her nose. She could feel her stomach clenching and twisting in her middle. How could she even think of eating, of sitting down and enjoying a pleasant meal, when Ger’alin was…

208

“You’ll eat if I have to sit on you, pry your jaws open, and force it down your throat,” Zerith said reasonably. “Really, Alayne, going without food or sleep will not help Ger’alin at all. He’d be angry if he knew you were doing it. You wouldn’t want to make him angry, would you?”

“If only I had been able to convince him, this wouldn’t have happened!” she whispered, her tone scathing and self-accusatory.

“Don’t start on that, sis,” Zerith muttered. “If you’re going to blame yourself, you need to remember to save some blame for me and for Ger’alin. Neither of us would listen to you because we thought we’d be playing into the Lich King’s hands. From now on, I will hear you out and consider what you say when you have one of those premonitions.”

“But…” Zerith put a finger over her lips, forcing her to silence. “We all make mistakes.

Remember when you were captured? Ger’alin wanted to rush right off and grab you back.

You want to do the same thing now that he’s in danger. Alayne, I’d love nothing more than for you, or me, to be able to just waltz right in and rescue him. However, in both cases, we were going up against an entrenched enemy in his home base. That requires planning and coordination. Yes, I should have listened to you,” he repeated. “But hindsight is always perfect. All we can do now is focus on what we will do. And eat,” he grinned, hearing her stomach rumble loudly. “You’ve got to keep your strength up,” he continued gently. “He would want you to.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin grinned and laughed in delight at the flow of power surging through him.

Though he’d been allowed access to this ecstasy several times, he never tired of it, nor lost the thrill of wonder that came at feeling the power of the ancient Well that was every elf’s birthright. A hunger he had learned to tame, that he had forced into submission, was being fed at long last. He wondered at the suffering he’d endured – wondered that he’d never realized he’d suffered until now.

The flow cut off and Ger’alin struggled not to weep for the loss. The world seemed so drab now, compared to when the demon allowed him to tap into the Vial. “That’s enough for now,” Illidan muttered. “I have other matters to attend to.” Pocketing the Vial, the demon stomped out of the room.

Ger’alin slumped to the floor, his legs pulled up, his chin on his knees and his arms wrapped around them. It was always so, when Illidan replaced the wards on the Vial. Though the Blood Knight knew he should be able to draw from its energies no matter where it was – his own studies under Lady Liadrin had taught him that – he could not tap into the blessed waters unless he could see them. As if that were not enough, Stormrage had placed some kind of enchantment around the Vial, preventing anyone from tapping it unless he lifted the warding. The demon guarded the source of his own powers and ecstasy with a zealousness that made the most dedicated Vindicator seem a shirker. Trembling violently, he tried to think of anything other than the emptiness growing inside of him or the exhilaration that he was cut off from.

“How are you, Ger’alin?” he heard a Broken whisper to him.

“Ger’alin?” he asked, desperate to maintain his ruse. Guilt tore at him as he realized, not for the first time, that he wanted to maintain the ruse so Stormrage would not cut him completely off more than to protect his wife and friends.

“Akama asked me to check on you if Illidan left you alone. Today is the first day he’s done that. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Ger’alin lied, his shaking giving him away.

209

“Are you ill? Akama says that help will come soon. I cannot tell you more than that, though. Has Illidan poisoned you? Is that why you are shivering?”

“No, I’m just cold,” Ger’alin scowled, feeling sweat begin to trickle down his forehead and neck. He did feel cold and clammy. He felt only half-alive. “How long have I been here? I’ve lost track of the time in this room.”

“Three days. Don’t worry. Help will…” “…come soon. Yes, I heard that. What kind of help?”

“I cannot tell you more. I need to be going, Blood Knight. Hold to your courage no matter what the demon does. I’m surprised you’ve lasted three days under his merciless ministrations. I will see if we can slip something into the food the naga bring to you that will help you feel better,” the Broken offered, waiting only a second for Ger’alin to wave him off before loping back out of the room. Ger’alin managed to hold himself together long enough for the Broken to close the doors before he toppled over on his side, his muscles stiff and locked, heaving and sobbing as he thought about how he wanted nothing less than to be rescued. He wanted Alayne and Zerith to leave him here to experience the bliss that Stormrage allowed him access to! How had he come to this in only three short days? He’d thought it’d been longer – months, certainly; not a mere three days!

“What’s happening to me?” he wondered aloud. “Why can’t I think of anything other than that power? Why can’t I even think of Alayne – just her? Every thought turns to that power; even when I wish I could think of something else!”

Waiting for Stormrage to return, torn between what he knew he should want and what he actually wanted, Ger’alin lay on the floor, weeping like a lost child. ~*~*~*~ The naga slithered about the courtyard leading into the Temple, their irritation evident in the way they spat and hissed at every being that came near them. Naj’entus himself stood stationed just behind his master, a pair of elite serpentine guards flanking the Lord of the Black Temple. Illidan lifted a hand and fingered the blindfold he wore absently. He shifted his weight, feeling reassured when his pouch thudded against his hip. The skull of Gul’dan and the Vial of water he’d gathered an eon ago made a tinkling sound that brought comfort.

Something still bothered him about the Blood Knight he’d captured, something beyond mere unease at having one of Kael’s agents in his domain. The mongrel night-elf told himself firmly that the knight was under his complete control; a few more days of feeding the man’s latent addiction and he would do whatever Illidan asked. The sin’dorei were fools – they never stopped to think about the way the fel energies they feasted upon left them wide open to manipulation by one who had access to a purer arcane source.

“I don’t trust these spies,” Naj’entus hissed softly, pitching his voice for Illidan’s ears alone. “They say they’ll parlay; that the Dragonmaw will reconsider their defection and will bring the Mag’har with them. Could this be one of Kael’s plots to draw us out?” The naga lord, Vashj’s devoted follower from the fins of his forehead to the scales of his tail, lusted for a chance to wreak vengeance on those who had slain his Lady.

“Be at ease, Naj’entus,” Illidan said calmly, soothingly. “You will get your chance for revenge. Do you think I would let Vashj’s death go unpunished?” he grinned.

“Then why the parlay?” Naj’entus hissed.

“Is that what I said it was?” Illidan asked, his brows lifting and his face twisting into an expression of mock innocence. “I must have misspoken. How dreadful.”

“If you’re planning something, my Lord, I need to know about it. How else will I and my people defend you if we do not know what you are planning?”

210

“What I am planning,” Illidan spat, “is to send the heads of these spies back to their friends as a warning of what happens when you dare cross the Lord of Outland. Now, take your place,” he ordered. “They are coming.”

Zerith, Mor’ghor, and Garrosh strode up the broken stairs and pathways leading to the Temple’s entrance. Zerith stared around in fascinated horror. He could see clearly the latent beauty hidden beneath the twisted rubble. That such a holy place had been perverted so deeply offended him. Seeing it himself, he understood why Akama felt so strongly about restoring the Temple. With a firm shake, Zerith forced his mind back to the matter at hand.

Up ahead, he could see the demon leering down at them. “Do you think he’s going to attack us?” he asked quietly.

“Without a doubt,” Mor’ghor replied in the same tone. He rolled his eyes to the sky, feeling reassured at the shadows passing over the high clouds. “All will go well.”

“All will go well,” Garrosh echoed numbly. He’d fought demons before; every Mag’har warrior had gone toe-to-toe with the Legion’s foul creatures. Still, seeing Stormrage with his own eyes, sensing the once mortal’s vast power himself, Garrosh began to wonder if the sin’dorei’s plan was actually crazy enough to work. “Ancestors be with us,” he muttered quietly as the trio continued their slow, stately tread up to the demon’s waiting place. ~*~*~*~ Alayne kept her eyes firmly on the dragon’s back. She tried to ignore the looming, impossibly vast, open pit they flew over. Callie sat behind her, the Forsaken uncharacteristically silent, not teasing her at all as they flew the short distance to the sewage pipe that was their entry into the Temple. “How long before Zerith and the others start out for this ‘parlay’?” the rogue asked when the dragon landed inside of the pipe.

“They said they would give us an hour,” Alayne replied. “We’ll have to move quickly.”

“That could be difficult,” Callie muttered, eyeing the slick ooze and moss coating the pipe. “One false step, one person falling and knocking another down in this mess and we could lose half our forces before we even get in.”

“Don’t remind me,” Alayne said, her face ashen and her lips green. “Come on, we’re the first. We need to move on ahead.” The pair walked quickly up the pipe, following the sounds of pickaxes ringing against stone until they drew near the entrance. “How much longer?” Alayne asked the men working through the seal.

“Another three minutes. We could probably force our way through it now. The magic is the only thing holding the stone in place.”

“Wait for the others to get here and then remove the holding,” she said firmly. “We have to be in position in a little over an hour.” Slipping more than stepping back, she kept an eye on the groups moving up the pipe.

“Do you think he’ll be all right?” Callie asked suddenly, after a long pause.

“He’ll be fine,” Alayne said firmly. “Light, he has to be.”

“I’ll help you with him, if you need,” the rogue offered. “I had to learn how to handle him when he gets wild.” Alayne nodded absently. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Callie finished lamely. “He’s a tough nut to crack.”

Alayne clenched her jaw, knowing that her friend meant well. She blinked tears out of her eyes, praying that she could find the numbness she would need to keep her mind focused on her task. Zerith had set her and the other warlocks from the Disorder of Azeroth and the Dragonmaw to enslave the demons and turn them against each other and against the naga. He had also given her “permission” to compel the naga if she felt she could do so without tiring herself too much. This would be a wearing battle; they would probably have to fight their 211

way through the Temple’s sub-basements up to the main floor. However, according to the Broken spies under Akama, they would not need to worry about facing other sin’dorei; all of the elves had fled the Temple, returning to Kael’s base in the far north of the broken land.

Only naga, demons, and whatever else Illidan had managed to force into serving him. She stared at the gathering crowd behind her, willing them to hurry, and trying not to think about what Ger’alin might have suffered at Stormrage’s hands. She had woken in a cold sweat, remembering her time under the Burning Blade’s imprisonment. In the days that had followed, she’d fallen further into madness and despair. Her heart pounded and her skin felt clammy from the mere thought that Ger’alin might be affected in the same manner.

“He’ll be fine,” Callie whispered when she passed Alayne a few moments later. The elf woman looked as if she was going to be ill. “Now, it’s time to get him out of there. Let’s go.” Alayne nodded and motioned, gesturing for the other warlocks to fall in around her. The orcs and Forsaken eyed her warily, knowing what they had to do and not looking forward to it.

“We go first,” she said calmly, forcing the gibbering voice that flogged her for haste, the voice that screamed at her for leaving her husband to suffer to a muted buzz. “Remember, this time, we’re in the front. It will be up to us to look after ourselves. We can’t rely on the fighters this time around; they have their own battle to fight.”

“We’re ready,” the lone Forsaken warlock hissed. “We know what to do.” The orcs nodded in agreement. Alayne had gone over the plan with them dozens of times. She took hold of herself, consciously stopping herself from chewing her lower lip in worry or from apologizing; she’d bored the plan into their skulls because, when she was doing that, she wasn’t weeping or making herself sick with dread over thoughts of her husband.

“Then let’s go,” she said firmly, projecting an aura of calm collectedness that she did not feel at all. Striding forward purposefully, she nodded to the magi holding the magics of the barrier in place. The ward collapsed and, with a rush of fel energy, Alayne blasted the thin, rock barrier away. A rush of chill air blew in, thinning the stench of waste for a second as Alayne and the warlocks leapt through the hole, ready for battle.

The handful of demons glanced at the explosion and the forces rushing through the wall in surprise. Their gaping did not last long as they rushed to meet the attackers. Alayne and the rest of the warlocks quickly reached out and began the battle for control of the demons’ minds. The sin’dorei grunted with the effort but, after a few seconds, was able to relax, the demon as firmly under her control as those she could pull from the Twisting Nether. Looking around her, she saw that the other warlocks were also ready. Issuing commands mentally, Alayne hurried to the ramp leading up to the next sub-basement. She heard the other warlocks, their demons in tow, padding after her. The magi and rogues followed behind, some grinning and joking softly about bringing up the rear. Whirling around, she pressed a finger over her lips, demanding absolute silence. If the plan was to work, they needed to get as far into the Temple as they could as quickly as possible without being detected. The Ashtongue Deathsworn said that Illidan tended to favor frontal assaults and, from that, tended to expect his enemies to do the same. Alayne nodded, seeing that the information seemed to be correct. Illidan had pulled almost all of the demons and the naga under his command out to man the walkways and battlements, obviously expecting that the main strike force would come from the Dragonmaw against the Temple’s doors. Ger’alin would have expected as much as well; hence why Alayne herself was leading the strike force through the basements, taking the Temple from the bottom and rear, as it were.

Running up the ramp, she threw herself to the side and compelled her demon to attack the naga guards standing in front of the doorway leading to the stairs. The serpentine guards were powerful and she felt the recoil of their killing strokes as her demon collapsed. Hissing

212

in frustration, she began hurling her spells while the other warlocks set their own demons against the creatures. She reached out, trying to compel the snakes’ minds…

The blow from the serpent mage who slithered into the room struck Alayne across the very core of her being. Her head began pounding, her temples throbbing wildly from the backlash of her spell striking her. For a moment, she gaped in complete confusion, wondering where she was, who she was, and what was going on. The confusion cleared quickly, though, as she regained a sense of self and pressed on, forgoing her attempts at control in favor of her spells. Her anger, her fear at what had almost happened, and her desperation to have her forces in place in time for what Zerith planned lent strength to her magic. Focusing her attacks on the magi, ignoring the guards pummeling the demons for the moment, she gestured and screamed, “Take down the magic user!” Bolts of ice and fire flew past her and she saw the rogues jog quickly across the room, some peeling off to aid the enslaved demons while others tried to cut the caster to ribbons. Alayne winced when the naga guards let loose a loud roar, wondering if they had just alerted others to the invaders. She cringed again when the massive corpses fell to the ground, throwing dust into the air.

“Well, so much for a quiet entrance,” Callie said, her tone loud enough to carry across the room but soft enough not to be heard outside. She pressed herself against the wall and moved slowly up the stairs, going only high enough to see that the basement above was empty, save for a few scattered bands of small demons. Loping back down, she gently closed the doors behind her and strode over to Alayne. Giving a report of what she’d seen in as few words as possible, she wondered aloud why the demons had not come to the nagas’ aid.

Alayne shrugged and, not giving the others time to even catch their breath, hurried out of the doors and up the stairs. She grinned when she saw that the demons there were engineers.

“What are you smiling at?” Callie asked.

“Something Zerith never dreamed of,” Alayne replied cryptically as she reached out and wrestled for control of a pack of the minor fel beings. She could hear the other warlocks dragging their demons behind them, grunting as they had to command the creatures to mount the stairs. Once gained, control over a demon came easily. Still, it was tiring. Alayne herself could feel the energy seeping out of her as she maintained control over four minor entities, forced them to continue in their current tasks so as to not alert the others that anything was amiss. Gesturing, she told the other warlocks to set their demons loose in the room, scattering the packs of tinkering Nether-spawned engineers, herding them closer to the pack she had enslaved. “Pull yours back,” she said between gritted teeth. Once the other demons were out of range, Alayne commanded all four of the ones she’d enslaved to use the explosives they carried, crippling her own demons as well as the rest of the ones crammed against the side of the room. “Now,” she ordered, giving the magi permission to unleash their spells. Once the last of the demons had fallen, Alayne knuckled her back, took a moment to wipe sweat from her forehead, and strode over to pull the doorway leading to the next sub-basement open. She was greeted by a grinning serpentine warrior, his spear point hovering mere inches from her heart.

“Did you really think Lord Illidan wouldn’t foresee this?” the snake hissed. Alayne leapt back, rolling across the floor to come to a crouch several feet away. As the rogues rushed to engage the snakes pouring into the room, Alayne prayed that Zerith’s fall back plan would work in case she couldn’t get to where she needed to be. ~*~*~*~ “That was what I like to call way too close for comfort,” Callie muttered as she pulled an arrow out of her shoulder. “At least we got rid of them,” she growled, glancing at the piled corpses of naga.

213

“At a high price,” Alayne muttered. The last fight had cost them half of their forces.

Their few remaining healers concentrated only on the most grievously injured; the rest were making do with crude bandages or splints made from the clothing or weapons of the dead.

“Light, I knew this was a…” “…bad idea,” Callie said. “I know. You were right.”

“Still, nothing to do about it now but press on. Light, I hope that the rest of the naga are either patrolling far from us, or are lazy, or are out on the Temple’s facings trying to look impressive. We will not survive another battle like that one.” Giving her flagging forces another moment to catch their breaths and tend their wounds, Alayne signaled for them to stand and prepare to follow her. Reaching up, she readjusted the bandage wrapped around her head, checked the one stuck, held on with her own blood, to her shoulder, and tried to ignore the way her ear folded in on itself. Her face was a mass of bruises and claw marks marred the skin of her neck. She hefted the long dagger she’d taken from one of the naga warriors; to her, it was a sword. She might not be able to use it as well as she had been trained, but at least she had a last line of defense for when she was too weary to cast. At least now she could make a quicker end to her enemies instead of letting them decimate her ranks. Her cheeks flamed beneath her bruises as she thought about how ashamed Ger’alin and Zerith were going to be when they found out that her blundering had cost them many of their best casters.

“Don’t blame yourself, Alayne. You can’t mute serpents. You did the best you could,” Callie said, lifting a hand to place it, gently and gingerly, on the woman’s arm.

“Come on, we’ve only got a few minutes before we’re supposed to be in place in the rearmost sanctum. Let’s get moving.” Suiting words to action, Callie began loping forward, her strides taking her up the ramp and onto the Temple’s main floor. She started to grin in triumph as the rest of the survivors followed her up. The hallways were empty. Straining her ears, the rogue could hear no tell-tale slithering or stomping that would indicate naga or demonic patrols.

Still, the others were silent, cautious, glancing around themselves in a mixture of surprise and relief. They found it hard to credit that the sounds of their clash with the naga had not brought hundreds of guards down searching for the invaders. “Back this way,” Callie whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. Dashing off, she hurried to make it to the room Akama had indicated as the position they were to hold.

Alayne hastened after her friend, the relieved delight of finding the corridors empty giving her – along with everyone else – a second wind. Soft footfalls and the susurration of robes filled the sin’dorei’s ears, sounding like thunder. Each time she looked over her shoulder or strained to hear sounds that meant battle and death, she heaved a sigh of relief when she heard nothing more than their passage. As they drew near their target, Alayne stopped, hearing muffled weeping. Her halt brought the others to a standstill as they looked to her for direction. Cocking her head, she tried to determine where the sound was coming from.

Her eyes widened in anger, her face and neck reddening with rage as she recognized the agonized weeping. Without stopping to consider the wisdom of her action, she ran to the doors that Akama had indicated marked the way to Illidan’s chambers and flung them open.

A pair of serpentine guards looked at the lone elf woman in surprise but she ignored them, her attention focused on the curled up ball of misery that she knew as her husband.

“Oh no,” Callie said, jogging up behind Alayne. The serpents were rushing towards the warlock, their spears pointed straight for her heart. Callie turned to shout for the others to join them, hoping to make quick work of the guards. Before she had a chance to voice her shout, her jaw went slack as she watched the naga’s skeletons erupt through their scaly hides, gore spraying everywhere. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?” she muttered irritably to the sin’dorei. “It would have saved us a lot of trouble and several lives.” Alayne didn’t hear the Forsaken and, glancing at the warlock’s face, Callie took a few steps backwards. Alayne was

214

about to let loose with one of her legendary fits of temper and the rogue wanted to warn the others to stay out of the woman’s path.

For her part, the warlock seemed unaware of the blood and scales splattered on her robes, in her hair, and staining her face. She had eyes only for the weeping form prostrate on the ground. Walking over to him, she knelt down and placed a gentle hand on his head, stroking his hair. “Ger’alin?” she whispered, her voice sounding impossibly distant to her own ears. “Ger’alin, what…someone heal him!” she barked, fearing the worst when she saw him shivering and convulsing. One of the few healers ran into the room, keeping a watchful eye on the elven woman as he set down the totem that would allow him to focus his power and heal the Blood Knight. “I said heal him!” Alayne screamed moments later when Ger’alin continued to shake.

“I have,” the tauren shaman muttered. “There is nothing to heal; he is as healthy as a bull.”

“Then why is he… Illidan must have… something… Some poison or torture…”

“Get back here!” Callie hissed to the shaman. The tauren obeyed with alacrity, well aware of Alayne’s inability to distinguish friend and foe when enraged.

“You rest, my love,” Alayne whispered tenderly to Ger’alin, her tone at complete odds with the implacable hatred etched on her face. “I will take care of…the rest,” she finished, striding from the room. Ignoring the survivors, ignoring everything, Alayne began stalking towards the doors of the Temple, her mind set on one thing and one thing only: to destroy the demon who had hurt her husband. ~*~*~*~ Zerith glanced around uneasily. From Mor’ghor’s cryptic comment, he knew that the aerial assault was in place and merely awaited his signal. Still, he felt a tingle of nervousness as he and the two orc chieftains drew close to the self-proclaimed Lord of Outland.

“Everything should be in place. With luck, Alayne will have found Ger’alin and he’ll be healed, maybe even ready to take part in the next phase of battle. If not, she’s to order him to stand aside. In the worst case scenario, one of the shamans will be carrying him back to Dragonmaw Hold,” he thought to himself, rehearsing the various plans he had made. “We knew, before we set out, that this was a trap; that Illidan will probably attack us or order us held captive. When he moves to do that, then I will give the signal the dragon-riders are waiting for. Hopefully, this will not be long and everyone will be in place.” Settling himself beneath the tent, glad of the shade that obscured the crazed sky but wary of the hulking demon staring down at him, Zerith let the orc chieftains move in front of him, flanking him, and waited for the ‘negotiations’ to begin.

“I see you have come crawling back, Mor’ghor,” Illidan sneered. “Your pathetic little ‘defection’ has cost me a week’s worth of resources! And you, little elf, what business did you play in this farce? Did your prince order you to disrupt my plans? He’ll be very disappointed to lose one of his best ‘renegades,’” the demon spat.

“You wanted a parlay, demon,” Garrosh answered gruffly. “If you arranged this just to boast and waste wind, then let us be done with it now.”

“Name your terms, my Lord. Surely you know by now that we have defeated the force sent against us,” Mor’ghor said, trying to steer the conversation back to the supposed topic. “However, you are right. If we remain divided, we will be easy prey for the Legion. All we ask is that we no longer be subjected to fel blood or demonic corruption. Let us serve you of our own volition, without compulsion, and using our own strength.”

“My terms?” Illidan murmured softly, absently. Lifting a hand elaborately, he stroked his chin as if deep in thought. “Yes, my terms. My terms are that your heads will decorate the 215

gates of the Black Temple, soon to be joined by the heads of the rest of your fellows and your misbegotten prince! Naj’entus!”

Zerith danced back nimbly, lifting his hand and calling upon the Light. A cascade of holy energy erupted from him, flying high into the sky and signaling the launch of the attack.

He barely had time to throw himself out of the way of the demon’s attack before the first wave of dragon’s breath and boulders began to rain down upon the Temple. Illidan stared up at the sky, his jaw going slack in surprise when he saw the dragons coming to the aid of the very orcs who had once enslaved them. Garrosh and Mor’ghor both ran, their short, stocky legs carrying them quickly to the place where one of their fellows and dropped their war axes. Zerith kept an eye on the shocked demon, wondering how much longer it would be before…

The rest of the Disorder of Azeroth and the Mag’har forces from Nagrand and Hellfire Peninsula came surging up the Temple’s walkway, their charge a roar that deafened the ears.

Illidan’s shock at the aerial assault vanished in his consternation at the sudden attack from the ground. Overhead, the dragon riders kept their aim confined to the Temple itself, careful not to accidentally fire upon their own. Illidan’s naga began trying to rush down from the walls to meet the attackers head on. Now, if everything had gone as he hoped…

The sin’dorei priest groaned, his teeth grinding together and his face blazing with anger when he saw the night elven huntress pick her way through the fight, her eyes filled with the sight of her elusive prey. Maiev was supposed to have waited, supposed to have held herself back until they had forced Illidan back into the Temple, inside, where he couldn’t use his wings. Had the lust for vengeance held too long in abeyance caused the warden to forget everything Zerith and the others had told her?

Illidan roared when his gaze fell on his former jailer. Shouting coarse oaths, the demon leapt up into the air, his wings beating to give him altitude. Green fire sprung from his hands, the blazes transforming into the Twin Blades of Azzinoth. Twirling them in his hands as if to get the feel for them again, the demon Lord of Outland completed his ascent and rolled, plunging downward, his blades speeding, seeking the Warden’s blood. Zerith cringed, certain he was about to see the legendary huntress’s death. At the last minute, Maiev swept aside, Illidan crashing to the ground. The demon quickly regained his feet, his blades an impossible green whirlwind of ferocity as he bored in, slashing at his enemy. Maiev wielded her spear deftly, deflecting the demon’s blows. Still, with each attack, she gave ground, yielding to her stronger, desperate prey. Zerith was riveted, watching avidly as the millenniaold duel played itself out before his eyes. Not even the battle waged by his friends, his comrades, could draw his attention away from the display of deadly skill before him.

Illidan’s head jerked up and he sniffed as if testing the wind, his purple face paling. A horror-stricken expression of absolute dread flitted across his face, as if he had seen something he feared more than death itself – something he had hoped to never see again.

Zerith glanced in the direction the demonic lord of the Black Temple stared. Even Maiev glanced back uneasily. A chill breeze blew through, freezing the priest’s blood. Dar’ja pressed against him as if feeling the same sense of foreboding unease. The massive twin doors of the Black Temple blew open, some force flinging them open with such strength that they blasted off their hinges, splintering and crashing to the ground with a deafening rush.

Zerith began praying desperately, wondering what minion of the Temple had come to its master’s aid.

“What is she doing?” Dar’ja gasped, aghast. Zerith turned his gaze the direction his wife pointed and felt his jaw dropping open when he saw Alayne, her face a mask, her eyes twin fires to dwarf the blaze from Illidan’s blades, walking calmly out of the Temple. “Isn’t she supposed to wait for us to push the naga and Illidan back…”

216

“I guess she, like Maiev, forgot the plan,” Zerith grumbled in irritation, trying to mask his concern. He’d heard tell of Alayne’s legendary battle rages from Ger’alin and Callie but he’d, blessedly, never witnessed one himself. Alayne continued her strangely detached and dignified pace down the stairs, coming to a stop a few yards from the master of the Black Temple.

“Is this one of your puppies, huntress?” he asked, his tone a mocking mask to hide his discomfort. “Am I going to have to kick her out of my way?”

“You hurt him,” Alayne said, her voice distant to her own ears. “You hurt him.”

“One of your little litter mates?” he sneered. “Did your master send you because he fears to face me, little girl?” the Betrayer prodded, betraying his unease. Alayne’s eyes flashed, an expression of absolute hatred blaring through so swiftly Zerith wondered if he’d really seen it. Maiev Shadowsong, the Warden, a woman who had faced demons and dead and countless other horrors in her centuries’ long life, took a step backwards, staring at the sin’dorei as if the woman carried the deadliest of contagions. “Does the so-called Lich King want a rematch, little girl? I think I will send you back to him in pieces, one part at a time, as a warning of what I’ll do to him when I come to tear him off his throne.”

Alayne said nothing. Lifting a hand idly, as if bored, she pointed at the monstrous demon. The chill wind returned, whipping Zerith’s robes, slapping them against his legs and plastering them to his back. His long hair flew in his face. He reached up, clawing it out of his eyes. Next to him, Dar’ja did the same. At the top of the Temple’s stairs, Callie stared down in stupefied shock as the wind continued to pick up, swirling around the sin’dorei and her target. The Forsaken felt a flutter in her stomach; a sensation she vaguely remembered from the first days of her freedom. The wind continued to howl, its shrieking horrible to hear.

Dust and smoke whirled on it, riding it, nearly obscuring the warlock. Zerith wondered why he didn’t feel the grit of sand rasping against his skin as he watched the wind coalesce. After a moment, he felt the same terror that turned Callie’s bowels to water. The wind had not brought smoke or sand.

It had brought the dead.

Moments stretched into hours; time crawling as the restless spirits of murdered draenei swarmed over the demon. Illidan threw his head back, roaring in rage, feeling his power being drained from him, sapped by the vampiric touch of the vengeful dead. He beat his wings, hoping to dislodge them. Incorporeal, they ignored the mighty gusts of wind, compelled only by the necromantic magic wielded by the former death knight. Tapping into both the Vial and the Skull of Gul’dan, Illidan tried to blast them off of him, tried to destroy the dead. Alayne grunted, feeling the recoil of her death magic failing. Opening her mouth, she uttered words that made Callie and every other Forsaken want to claw their ears off their heads. Though the sin’dorei barely whispered them, the undead heard her compelling command as if she shrieked inside their heads. Naga corpses stirred, regaining their standing position, chill hands gripping the weapons they had borne in service of the Betrayer as they turned on him, their dead eyes shining with un-natural and unholy life.

“Alayne, stop it! Stop this at once! Let the dead rest, sister! Let them rest!”

Illidan let his blades whirl through his hands and licked his lips nervously as the dead drew near. “Is this the best you can do, little girl? A few shambling corpses and ghosts?” he smirked. Maiev glanced between her prey and the now undead naga, uncertain of which enemy she should be facing.

“Alayne, for the love of the Light!” Dar’ja screamed. Zerith added his hoarse yells to hers, praying that Alayne would snap out of it, would realize what perversion she was performing. To enslave demons was one thing…to manipulate the helpless dead?

“She can’t hear you,” Zerith heard Ger’alin’s warning. The two had been discussing how best to use Alayne in the battle for control of Zangarmarsh. “You let her get enraged and 217

she goes deaf. She goes blind. She knows nothing but the need to kill – to eradicate from existence – whatever it was that enraged her. She can’t tell friend from foe. The only way to get her to stop is to force her out of the fight. Light’s truth, Zerith, I hope you never face that choice. Hurting her is…I still have nightmares about it.”

“She can’t hear you,” he repeated to his wife. “She can’t hear either of us. Light, Illidan must have done something dreadful to Ger’alin. Go. Go now, while he’s distracted with her. See if you can help him. I’ll stay here and…do what I must.” Dar’ja opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with a stern, “Go!” Jogging across the courtyard, glancing over her shoulder to see that the demon was still engrossed with the sin’dorei warlock, she hurried up the stairs, wondering what had the Forsaken clutching their heads as if in pain.

Illidan had managed to overcome his fear of the death knight in the meantime. He danced near her, his blades a blur. Zerith lifted his own hands and, with a hurling gesture, blasted the demon with pure Light energy. Illidan shrieked in outrage as the holy power seared through him. His glare of pure hatred made Zerith jump back. The demon’s shift in attention seemed to snap Alayne back to reality, though. The naga fell back to the ground and, behind the mammoth mongrel, her fel guard appeared, its axe cutting across the back of his knees. Once again, the Lord of Outland screamed, crashing to the ground, his legs useless.

Alayne walked up to him, standing over him, staring down, her whole body trembling and tears streaming down her face as she repeated “you hurt him” again and again, her voice so filled with despair that it tore her brother’s heart.

“Come on, Alayne,” he said, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders. “Let’s leave the huntress to her prey,” he whispered, still not quite certain he could believe that Illidan was as helpless as he seemed. Glancing down to the road in front of the Temple, Zerith could see his forces and those of the orcs standing, cleaning their weapons, the naga threat finished. Of the defenders of the Black Temple, only its master remained alive and, to judge from the implacable look on Maiev’s face, she was going to take that matter into her hands momentarily. “Come on, let’s go see to that husband of yours.”

“He hurt him,” she shuddered, leaning against Zerith as he led her away from the field of battle. “He hurt him,” she sobbed.

As the two sin’dorei siblings mounted the stairs of the Temple, Mor’ghor and Garrosh exchanged significant glances before making gestures to ward off evil and ask forgiveness of the ancestors. “She must have had a good reason,” Garrosh muttered. “She must have.”

“We have done enough evil, brother-in-battle,” Mor’ghor grunted. “Let us be done with it. Let us be done with them and their abuse of our dead.”

Maiev stared down at her prey, hefting her spear. Illidan cringed, his useless legs scrambling against the ground in a futile effort to lift him. His wings, trapped beneath the weight of his body, twitched painfully. “It is over,” she said, disbelieving. “You are beaten.”

“You have won... Maiev. But the huntress...,” he gasped, “is nothing without the hunt.

You... are nothing... without me.” For a moment, Maiev wavered. For long millennia, she had guarded the man he had been. For years, she had hunted him, chasing him across lands – across worlds. What would she do now, that it was ending? Visions of Illidan betraying her people long ago, allying with Sargeras, of him standing next to the new Well of Eternity he’d created, defiant, of the deep, dark prison she’d been forced to call home for long years…visions of Naisha’s face filled her eyes and her doubts evaporated in the blaze of her rage. With a quick thrust, she buried the point of her spear in the demon’s chest. Illidan gasped, groaned, and went limp. Great gusts of air snorted out of Maiev’s nostrils and sweat dripped down her ashen face. Pulling her spear free, she wiped the point against the demon’s own trousers and turned on her heel.

“He's right. I feel nothing. I am nothing,” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder to see the two sin’dorei vanish into the Temple. “Farewell, champions. Our paths 218

will not cross again.” Striding past the gathered orcs, tauren, trolls, Forsaken, and elves, the Warden was blind to their outstretched hands, deaf to their questions and demands. Blinded by the sudden tears springing to her eyes, she ran, soon lost to their sight, lost, wandering only where legends still lurk. ~*~*~*~ Dar’ja glanced up, relieved to see Zerith entering the room escorting his sister. The Forsaken still glared at the sin’dorei warlock, their eyes flashing with pure outrage. Only Callie seemed to have any sympathy for her friend but even the rogue watched the woman warily, her hands twitching involuntarily towards her daggers. Dar’ja spread her hands helplessly when Zerith raised his eyebrows at her, asking silently what ailed the normally hale and hearty Blood Knight. “Let’s see what we have here,” the priest muttered, kneeling down beside Ger’alin. The strong man was still curled up, his arms wrapped around his legs, his knees tucked up and his face buried in his legs. He shook violently, as if with some foul poison or fear beyond reasoning.

“You’re among friends, Ger’alin. We’ve come to rescue you. Illidan has fallen; he will harm you no longer.”

“NO!” Ger’alin screamed, his voice muffled by his legs. “NO!” “There’s no need to be afraid,” Zerith continued, wondering why the man was screaming and why his tremors seemed to have increased. “Light, Ger’alin, what did he do to you?” Zerith jerked back, feeling himself choking when Ger’alin…exploded outward, his limps flying out and the man springing to a crouch. One hand snaked out to grip the priest’s collar in a vice-like hold. For a moment, Zerith did not recognize the face snarling at him; it was far too thin for one thing. The eyes, no longer pure emerald green, blazed a milky aquamarine. Still, his friend’s strength seemed to have remained with him. “You are free, Ger’alin.”

Zerith threw his hands in front of himself to keep from pitching forward on his face when Ger’alin flung him away and began sprinting from the room. Glancing up, he saw that several of the group who had been assigned to Alayne were picking themselves off the floor where the sin’dorei Blood Knight had bowled them over in his hasty exit. Alayne just stared at the path he’d taken, her jaw hanging open and her throat emitting a wordless, keening wail.

Dar’ja walked over to her, wondering what was going on. “Alayne?” she whispered. The warlock’s eyes rolled back in her head and her legs folded. Her head hit the floor with an echoing ‘bang!’ The Forsaken in her group spat on the ground and began stalking in the direction her husband had run. Dar’ja stared at them; Callie shrugged at her, giving a look that promised an explanation later before she loped after them. Zerith managed to regain his feet and, walking over, picked Alayne up in his arms and sighed. “Sometimes I wonder; do I really want to know what’s going on?” he asked as he carried her out of the Temple, his wife walking alongside him. On their way out, they passed Mor’ghor and Garrosh. Zerith smiled at them, relieved to see them well and eager to discuss the next phase of the battle for Outland. Anything to take his mind off of the complete catastrophe that his battle plan for the Black Temple had turned out to be. The orcs nodded to him respectfully but glared at the unconscious woman in his arms, their eyes cold as the depths of winter. Deciding, once again, that he really didn’t want to know at the moment, the priest continued his tread out of the Temple. Passing Akama, he and Alayne received the same treatment as from the orc chieftains. Grinding his teeth, he told himself he was just being paranoid. Heightened senses from battle and whatnot, he told himself over and over again. He only thought they were angry about something.

219

Zerith and Dar’ja heaved twin sighs of relief when they stepped into the fading sunlight outside of the Temple. Callie and the Forsaken were mixing with the rest of the Disorder of Azeroth again, the rogue laughing and pointing at the road, clearly amused by something. The strange elven man, Mordenai, glanced over at them, his smile wiped clean from his face when he saw Alayne. He ran up and, exchanging quick whispers with her brother, soon had her tossed over his shoulder and was loping back towards Dragonmaw Hold as quickly as his long legs would carry him. “What’s so funny?” Zerith asked Callie, wondering if he wanted to know anything.

“Ger’alin. When we got out here, he was whooping for joy like a kid who had finally found his lost treasure and jumping around like an idiot. I guess seeing that Stormrage really is dead was what he needed to put him in a better mood. Then, he started running towards Dragonmaw Hold faster than I thought possible. We’re guessing that he’s going to get things ready for Alayne’s arrival. Care to make a wager on how long it will be before either of them gets a wink of sleep?”

“No. I don’t like losing my money,” Zerith said dryly. “Speaking of my sister…”

“Not here,” Callie said, raising a hand. “Not now. It’s too soon. I promise, I will explain why every one of us is put out with her. Give me time to calm down, though. I have to keep reminding myself that she didn’t know. She was…not in control of herself. Even then, even though I know that…I want to kill her for what she did!”

“Callie, when she gets enraged, she can’t tell friend from foe. She didn’t…hurt anyone, did she?”

“Not physically, no. It’s too soon, Zerith. I’ll tell you tomorrow or the day after. Let’s just…well, let’s burn this carcass,” she said, prodding Stormrage’s body with her toe. “It’s hard to believe…a legend is dead.”

220

Chapter Eighteen: The Violence Within

M

ordenai tapped lightly on the door, wondering if the Blood Knight were inside. Only a few orcs remained in the fortress; the rest were all still at the Black Temple, catching their breath on the field of victory. He wondered why the man had been in such a hurry to get out of there, had been so rushed that he had left all of his friends, his wife, behind. The dragon, still in his disguise as a fellow blood elf, furrowed his brow while he mulled that over. Ger’alin had thrown himself on Illidan’s corpse, gibbering like one distraught beyond words. He’d dug through the demon’s pockets frantically, discarding the powerful Skull of Gul’dan and, finding something else, had lit up brighter than the noon-day sun on midsummer’s day. Then he’d run off. “What did he find and why does thinking about it make my skin crawl?” Mordenai wondered quietly.

He tapped again at the door, shifting the woman he carried into a more manageable position.

He was almost ready to give up and kick the door down when it sprang open, a wild-eyed sin’dorei fighter staring at him.

“What do you want?” Ger’alin snarled angrily.

“To get her off my shoulder,” Mordenai said reasonably, reminding himself that the man had no doubt been through torments that he would never be able to imagine.

“What’s the matter with her?” Ger’alin asked, only a light coating of concern in his distracted voice. He sounded as if he knew he should be concerned but had something far more pressing on his mind. Mordenai shrugged and, lifting his eyebrows in askance, stepped into the room. Settling the unconscious woman on the bed, he turned and left, closing the door behind him and hoping that, once she awoke, Alayne was able to do something to help Ger’alin cope with whatever horrors he had faced.

Once the door pulled closed, Ger’alin cast a glance at his wife. She lay still, her face pale. Not a whisper so much as passed her lips; a sign that something was very wrong with her. He watched her for several minutes before turning back to the room’s small table.

Opening the drawer, he pulled out the Vial he’d taken from Illidan’s corpse. The warding was still firmly in place around it, preventing him from tapping into the energies within. He’d been hammering at it frantically, trying to find a weakness, something that would let him get past it to the pure joy within. Sweat rolled down his face, splattering droplets on the desk as he continued to try, continued to fail, and continued to despair of ever knowing what it was he had known for such a brief time.

A soft rustling sound perked his ears and he quickly returned the Vial to its drawer.

As much as he wanted to beg Alayne to help him tap into its secrets, he feared she would turn it over to the Scryers or the naaru as she said she had the other one. He turned around to face her, torn between gladness and anger that she had finally woken. Her legs hung off the edge of the bed, her feet pressed to the floor. Her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, she sat, her back to him, shivering and rubbing her temples. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice falling flat. Alayne nodded, not lifting her head. “I’m glad,” he grinned, trying to recall how he used to feel and act. The Vial and the ecstasy it promised clouded his thoughts, making it difficult to think of anything else. Something about the way she sat, refusing to 221

look up at him, tugged at him. He huffed in irritation, wishing she would either leave or do something to help him take his mind off the bliss he wasn’t feeling. Sitting down next to her, he looked at her. “What?” he said flatly.

Alayne hunched further in on herself, cringing and shaking. For a moment, Ger’alin was so moved by her obvious fear that he almost forgot about the Vial. “Alayne?” he whispered softly. Her shuddering increased and gut-wrenching sobs were ripped from her throat. Reaching over, he cupped her chin in his hands and forced her to look up at him. He sucked in a horrified breath at what he saw in her eyes. Not just fear for him; but, for some reason, fear of him. The longer he held her gaze on his face, the more the fear grew. He kept his touch gentle and light. “I’m fine,” he murmured, hoping to reassure her. “He didn’t hurt me so much; I just…”

He hit the ground with a thud, the wind knocked out of him. For a moment, he just lay there, stunned, letting her rain a frantic frenzy of kisses on his face, lips, and neck. Her hands tangled painfully in his hair and, whenever she opened her eyes and met his, he wondered anew at the fear he saw hidden in their emerald depths. The greater her fear, the more frenzied she grew, as if to deny the one with the other. He closed his eyes and groaned when he heard the sound of fabric ripping, not certain if it had been him or her who had lost patience with the buttons. Then came a warmth, a glowing bliss that momentarily lessened his hunger for the power trapped behind Illidan’s ward. Only a lessening, he thought, the truth a pain-filled realization. Only a lessening, he shivered as his eyes gazed back towards the drawer. ~*~*~*~ “Will you go out today?” Alayne asked, bracing herself. Sometimes when she asked him this, his ire swept over her, a tidal tirade of proportions she’d never dreamed he was capable of. This morning, he merely grunted and turned back on his side, pulling the covers over his head. “Ger’alin, it’s been almost a week…”

“I rather like it in here,” he said sardonically, his voice muffled by the blankets.

“Good memories here.”

“Garrosh wants to see you. He’s worried. Same with Callie and Zerith and Dar’ja and Tau’re…everyone’s worried. I’m worried,” she sighed.

“You’re afraid of me,” he accused.

“I’m afraid for you,” she corrected. “I’m afraid of something I saw…but I know that it won’t happen now. I just…wish you’d come outside for a bit. The fresh air would do you good.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he muttered. “Go on, take a walk or something.”

“Maybe I should stay…,” she offered, cringing when she saw him stiffen beneath the covers. When asking him if he’d go out didn’t set off an argument, her offer to remain with him almost always did. Still, she made the offer daily nonetheless. She had to. She had to convince herself that the visions were false; that he would never hurt her, no matter how irritable he became.

“Get out!” he shouted. Alayne quickly ducked out into the hallway. She hated herself for doubting him at all, yet at the same time…

“He’s been in there for the past six days. Is he coming out any time soon?” Zerith asked flatly. Alayne gave a start. The hallway was lined with people, their eyes all on her.

Zerith folded his arms over his chest and kept his face carefully expressionless. “This is more than just mere trauma over torment, isn’t it?”

“He’s fine, he says,” she replied uneasily. “He says we’re all worrying over nothing.

He just wants to be left alone, he says.”

222

“And what do you think? Light, Alayne, you’re the only one of us who would have any clue what he’s been through or what he’s going through now.”

“I…I think we should leave him alone. He’ll come out when he’s ready to come out.”

“Two days,” Zerith said after a long pause. “If he doesn’t come out on his own in two days, I’m dragging him out myself. Now, what does he look like?”

“He looks fine,” Alayne lied quickly. “Healthy as a horse. A little pale from being cooped up but nothing a few hours in the sun won’t fix.” Zerith narrowed his eyes to slits, examining her. “Okay, he’s a little thin, too,” she admitted. “A little? He’s lost more weight than I have on my frame! In the space of days, he’s wasted away and he told me if I said another word about it, he…he’d…but he didn’t mean it!” the words tumbled out of her.

Zerith’s expression went from guarded and suspicious to concerned. “And his eyes,” she sobbed. “His eyes…”

“Dar’ja, take her outside. See if Mordenai will keep her company,” he whispered.

“I’ll stay,” Alayne said firmly. “He listens to me…sometimes,” she sighed.

“You’re going outside.”

“I’m his wife, Zerith!”

“You’re going outside,” her brother repeated. “Dar’ja, haul her out of here and tell Mordenai to sit on her to keep her away if he has to. Garrosh, Tau’re, I want you two to be ready to help me. Callie, stay out here and, if I tell you to go fetch something, you go get it right then and there.” The others nodded and Dar’ja began dragging a struggling, protesting Alayne down the corridor.

“Let me stay, please!” Alayne pleaded, her voice growing fainter as her sister-bymarriage carried her off. “He’s my husband! My husband!”

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t see or hear any of this,” Zerith muttered beneath his breath. “If any of you tell her a word of it…,” he threatened his assistants. Satisfied that they would guard their tongues, he stood in front of the door, hitched his robes up over his knees, and kicked as hard as he could. His foot landed flush against the lock and the door flew open, splinters of wood scattering everywhere. Zerith winced when he took a step into the room, then froze in horror.

Ger’alin stood hunched over the desk. Alayne had not exaggerated; the woolen robe he wore hung on his wasted frame where once it would have burst at the seams had the Blood Knight tried to wear it. His long brown hair was lank and tangled as if he had not brushed it in days. The sour smell of sweat and desperation permeated the chamber, assaulting everyone like a slap to the face. Everything the priest had planned to say and do vanished from his tongue as he took in the sight. He heard Garrosh and Tau’re gasp in shock when they followed.

“What do you want?” Ger’alin demanded angrily, his back to the door. “Leave me in peace! Haven’t I been through enough lately?” The whining tone sounded completely out of character for the normally stoic fighter. “Did Alayne send you in here after me?”

“No, she didn’t,” Zerith said flatly. “What is wrong with you?”

“I’m fine!”

“And I’m the king of Stormwind! What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing! Leave me be in peace!”

“Ger’alin, let me look at you,” Zerith demanded, striding over and wrestling the man around. A week ago, Ger’alin would have been able to throw the priest across the room had he tried that. Now, Zerith forced him to turn and face the door easily. Letting the Light flow through his hands, he wove healing energies into his friend, stunned when nothing happened.

“I told you, I’m fine,” Ger’alin snarled. “I just want to be left alone.”

“There may be no illness or injury,” Zerith said doubtfully, frowning as he tried to puzzle out the problem, “but you are not fine.”

223

“There is nothing wrong with me.”

“Ger’alin, have you looked in a mirror lately?” Tau’re asked quietly. “You’re almost as thin as that rail of a wife of yours!”

“If I wanted your opinions, cow, I’d ask for them.”

“Ger’alin, what is wrong with you?” Zerith gasped. “You are not yourself! You shout at Alayne, you snap at Tau’re, you won’t go outside…all you do is sleep, eat, and scare the living daylights out of everyone around you!”

“You forgot ‘occasionally make love to my wife’ in that list. I may be thin but I still have it where it counts!”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about; you are not acting like yourself, Ger’alin. What is bothering you? Are you having trouble sleeping restfully? Bad dreams? I know that I have no idea what you went through; none of us do because you won’t talk about it and Alayne’s so terrified of asking you that she gets ill at the mere thought…What is that in your hand?”

“Oh this?” the Blood Knight said nonchalantly, setting the Vial down on the desk as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “It’s just a little something I’ve mixed up that helps me sleep a little better,” he lied easily. “I’m sorry,” he added, sounding contrite. “I have been having trouble sleeping. It’s made me short-tempered. I apologize for everything I’ve said this morning. Every time I close my eyes, I see…” he shivered.

“What’s in it?” Zerith asked gently. “Perhaps I could mix something better.”

“Oh, just a weak mix of dreamfoil and sungrass.”

“Hmph. I’ve heard that the oil from the olemba roots in Terokkar could be…we’ll leave you to rest,” the priest sighed, seeing irritation sparkle in Ger’alin’s eyes again. “But, please stop shouting at and scaring your wife so much.” Ger’alin made a rueful gesture and ducked his head. Zerith turned and led the others out of the room, glad that he had not needed them to help him hold the other man down for an examination. “What do you think of that?” he asked once they had walked a short distance down the hallway.

“I think that if he were any other man, I would have his head,” Tau’re muttered, shaking his shaggy shoulders. “He’s lying, that’s clear enough.”

“But why would he lie?” Garrosh wondered.

“He’s not himself,” Zerith answered simply. “He’s not going insane, the way Alayne did…now what is that look for?” he demanded, his patience worn thin. Every time he mentioned his sister around Garrosh or Callie, they grimaced in distaste. Worse, they no longer seemed to notice it. Alayne had taken to sneaking around the fortress like a thief; whenever one of the orcs or Forsaken saw her, they glared daggers at her. “Callie, you promised me after the battle that you would tell me what was going on. Now, I want to know why everyone keeps looking at her like she fed a newborn to a demon.”

Callie opened her mouth to answer, not really wanting to. Garrosh saved her by stepping in. “Your sister did something that only one among our people has ever done and that one…he is held to be the most vile, evil, twisted of our kind. Your sister abused our dead, she twisted them, compelled them to obey her commands and fight her fight. The dead should not be treated so.”

“Garrosh, she can’t control herself when she gets enraged,” Zerith explained patiently.

“I hate what she did, too. It makes me sick to even think she knows how to do that but…she would never do it voluntarily. She only uses that power, she only…” “…abuses the dead, enslaving them to her will…”

“Her husband had been tortured! She wanted to avenge his pain on his tormentor! Had you been in her shoes, would you have done differently?” the priest demanded angrily. “What she did was wrong; I will never say otherwise. She knows it and she is stricken with guilt that she did it and that, if she were in that situation again, she’d do it again. Until you know that you wouldn’t do the same, don’t you dare judge her!”

224

“Thing is, Zerith, he has a point,” Callie said softly. “When she did…what she did, we felt it. All of the Forsaken. For a moment, we felt the compulsion to return to slavery.

Alayne knows that the goal of the Lich King’s power is to enslave all life and unlife to his will; why would she use that power around us? I know she was enraged, Zerith, but it hurt. It hurt me deeply and I’m not certain I’ll ever be able to look at her and not see the chains of necromancy. I’m sorry, but all of the Forsaken feel the same. We know in our heads…but in our dead hearts, we can’t know.”

“I know that your sister did what she did out of love,” Garrosh grunted, unaccustomed to such displays of emotion. “But, no command I issue, no explanation I give will make my people see her as anything other than a perversion of nature. She stays in this fortress by sufferance only. Mor’ghor and the rest of the Dragonmaw want her out of here. I have prevailed upon them to allow her to remain until her husband is well. Still, what she did angered the spirits and, if I do not keep my distance, if my people do not keep their distance, the spirits may flee us again and who knows when we’d convince them to return?”

“So, you’re saying that, essentially, all of the good she’s done, all of the struggles she’s put herself through to help you and your people has been erased by a moment of insanity?” Zerith fumed. “Scarcely more than five years ago, Callie, your kind would have been hunted to the ends of the world, would have been eradicated by the Horde and the Alliance. But then, the tauren took pity on you, saw that you were not evil, only conflicted.

They argued for you and because of that, the Forsaken have enjoyed the protection of the Horde. But back when you were slaves, back when you had no control over yourselves, you sacked my homeland, you destroyed my people’s source of magic, you murdered and raised to a mockery of life those of my kind that you slaughtered. Yet, I hold nothing against you,” he explained. “I know that you weren’t in control of yourselves and, that had you been, you would not have done as you did. I can find it in my heart to forgive you even though, Callie, even though the Scourge and Arthas were responsible for the destruction of just about everything I held dear! And you, Garrosh,” he said, rounding on the chieftain, “your kind killed many of my people in various wars. You invaded our world. You destroyed your own through reckless sorcery. But, you were not in control, then. Your leaders had been duped and then turned around and duped you into following the Legion. Yet, I can rise above that. I can forgive you for that insanity. Are you honestly going to stand here and tell me that neither of you nor your people can return the favor? For a woman who will give her life to help you?” Garrosh turned the thought over in his mind. Callie stared at the floor glumly; she’d never considered it from this angle before. “I’d better leave,” Zerith muttered, “before I really lose my temper.” Storming out of the keep, he blinked against the bright sunlight.

“Is he coming out?” Alayne asked, rushing up to her brother. He winced when he glanced over to see his wife holding the remnants of Alayne’s sleeve in her hand. Bleeding furrows marred his sister’s arm where his wife had been restraining her. “He’s not, is he?”

Alayne sighed, her lips quivering. “I…hoped that you would be able to…he hasn’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”

“What is that vial of liquid he’s been drinking from?” Zerith asked. Alayne’s head jerked up and she stared at him. “When we burst in there, he was holding some kind of vial. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the etchings on it. He says he’s been using whatever is in it to help him sleep. I think he was lying. No, belay that,” Zerith growled, “I know he was lying.”

“A vial?” Alayne muttered uncertainly. Fear began worming its way through her stomach, a constricting snake that threatened to squeeze her heart until it burst. “I…I don’t know. If he says it helps him sleep…”

“It doesn’t. He was lying plain as day about that. How has he been sleeping?”

225

“Poorly,” she admitted. “He only sleeps when exhausted and, even then, he tosses and turns most of the night. I’ve taken to sleeping on the floor just to get any rest at all. He…he doesn’t like that. He says I’m afraid of him.”

“You are,” Zerith gasped. Alayne was shivering. “You’re scared spitless of him.”

“I am not!” she protested. “I’m afraid for him.”

“I believe that,” he replied, “but, he’s right. You are scared of him. I can see it written all over your face. You’re terrified of what’s happening to him, of the person he’s turning into.”

“I am not!”

“Deny what’s plain as the nose on your face again and, warlock or no, I will pull you over my knee and do to you what my father used to do to me when I lied.”

“I am not afraid of Ger’alin,” she said, a slight emphasis on her husband’s name.

“Ger’alin would never hurt me unless it was to save me from a greater danger. Ger’alin loves me. I love him. But…” “But the person in your room right now is not the man you married,” Zerith finished for her. “Has he told you at all what he went through?”

“No,” she sighed, shaking her head. “He says he doesn’t want to talk about it. He wants to be left alone. The first two days, I refused to do that. I stayed in there with him until…”

“Until what, Alayne?”

“Until he…,” she shuddered, making a wrenching gesture. Zerith nodded; he remembered well the signal they used to use to discuss what they did to stave off the worst effects of their arcane addiction. “I had to leave him, then. Light, Zerith, it hurt! Jez’ral did that once by accident but he…he didn’t care. He said…I…I wanted to slap him for it! I did, almost. Then he started crying, Zerith. Weeping. He said he was sorry; he hadn’t meant it. He begged me not to leave him then and I wanted to stay, more than anything. But, before I could tell him I forgave him, he turned on me, snarling, yelling at me to get out, to leave him alone.”

“I want to you go back in there and see if you can get him to talk. Carry up some food; has he been eating?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “He eats enough to put a tauren to shame but I don’t know where it goes. He’s so thin and pale…”

“That’s not the important thing. See if you can get him to talk. About anything. Work in a way to ask him what’s really in that vial. Maybe whatever he’s been drinking has been contributing to the problem. You know he almost turned into a drunk when you were…well, maybe that’s all that’s happening here. Severe trauma, some kind of strong alcohol; that could be all there is to it. If so, well,” Zerith sighed, shaking his head in frustration. “There are ways to help him cope with it.” Alayne nodded again and walked back into the fortress.

She brushed past Callie and Garrosh, careful not to look at or touch either of them. Callie winced when Alayne walked by, guilt panging her for how she’d been acting, especially with Alayne needing all the help she could get to deal with Ger’alin. The Forsaken opened her mouth to call out after the woman but Alayne quickly vanished down the corridor. Garrosh shrugged and stumped the opposite direction, putting the thoughts the priest had given him out of his mind for the moment and praying that the ancestors would help his brother Ger’alin.

Ger’alin glanced over when he heard the door creak open. “I thought I told you to take a walk,” he growled at his wife. “I’m fine. Tell that brother of yours to lay off me from now on. And would you look at me occasionally, woman? Or am I so scary now you can’t stand the sight of me?” Alayne threw herself down on the bed, facing him, staring out of blank eyes. She held herself rigid, stiff, simply staring off in his direction like one who could 226

no longer see. “Have it your way,” he muttered, turning his back to her. If he ignored her long enough, she’d probably leave again and he could return to what he’d been working on.

“What’s in the vial?” she asked suddenly.

“What vial?”

“The one you told Zerith you’ve been using to help you sleep.”

“Oh, just an herbal concoction.”

“Ger’a…don’t lie to me,” she said flatly, her voice as dull as her eyes. “It’s a vial you found on Illidan’s body or in his belongings, isn’t it? Another Vial of water from the Well of Eternity.”

“So what if it is?” he spat, whirling around and flinging the vial at her. “What do you want to do? Take it and give it to the naaru?” he snorted elaborately, making his thoughts on that issue clear.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you gave up the other one! If I had known what it could do, I’d have never let you turn it over!”

“What can it do?” she asked slowly, the fear threatening to close her throat. As he began to describe the torment and the ecstasy, slow tears trickled down her face, dampening the pillow. She watched as he was transformed, his face glowing, his eyes brightening that damnable blue she had come to loathe. He was lost in the rapture of memory, his every thought centered on the magic the Vial contained. After a while, Alayne closed her ears to his words, listening only to the rise and fall of his voice, trying to remember when he spoke gently, tenderly, the passion in his voice warming instead of frightening. As he continued to ramble on and on, she fought to keep from weeping wildly. Visions of the Wretched filled her eyes. She knew now what it was she had seen before Ger’alin had ever set foot in the Black Temple. Her heart writhed as he continued. Finally, she sat up, wiped her cheeks, and, feeling oddly calm, looked at him without seeing him. “And you can’t tap into it because of the warding?” she said flatly, surprised at how cool and distant her voice sounded. She felt as if part of her had just died.

“I’ll figure it out soon enough,” he grinned, sounding painfully like his old self. Her heart spasmed in her chest, each beat gushing anguish anew. “And then, Alayne, then we’ll…”

“Illidan must have left information about his enchantments,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear about the joy they’d share when he attained the power he hungered for. “I will go back to the Temple and research anything and everything he wrote.”

“You’re afraid of me,” he said accusingly.

“No, I’m not,” she said firmly. She was not afraid of him; she was terrified of him.

She prayed he could return to himself one day. “Don’t tell the others. They’ll try to take it from you.” A plan began to form in her mind; a plan to save him. There had to be a way to reverse the transformation she feared he was undergoing. “I’ll be back tomorrow or the day after.”

“Maybe I should come with you…” he offered, a nagging suspicion lurking in his mind. Vaguely, he recalled that Alayne could be tricky. He felt the anger and irritation rising within him, burning through him. By the Light, she was his wife; he should be able to recall more about her without the Vial twisting his every thought! But then…she was going to help him. Once he could draw from it, he’d be able to think clearly again. He’d be able to be the man she loved again. “Or maybe I’ll stay here,” he sighed.

Alayne stood up from the bed and walked over to him. The closer she drew to him, the further away she felt herself going. Embracing him warmly, even giving him a fond smile and a light kiss on the forehead, she murmured useless words of encouragement and turned, leaving the room. Once outside, she froze the mask on her face, shoving away every emotion.

227

If this were going to work, she couldn’t afford distractions. Recalling the techniques her father had taught her to distance her mind and spirit from reality, to keep the pain of battle from reaching the core of who she was, Alayne strode out of the fortress, ignoring the icy stares that she left in her wake. Cold as they were, nothing could be more chill than the desperate fear she ignored as it clawed at her thundering heart. ~*~*~*~ Mordenai saw the woman leave the fortress and, excusing himself to his companions, crept after her. The set of her shoulders and the way she refused to acknowledge anyone spoke of trouble coming soon. He’d listened carefully to her comrades talking about her. She was a force to be reckoned with, even at barely twenty years of age. Something about the way she walked told him that she was struggling against a mortal blow. He sniffed the wind; his kind were sensitive to more than just the subtle flows of magic. Dragons had ever been able to detect strong emotions; indeed, he had often wondered if emotions themselves were their own form of magic. Following after her, careful not to be seen by the others, he caught up to her just as she cleared the corner leading towards the Black Temple. “So, was your brother able to determine what ails your husband?” he asked casually.

“No, but I think I know,” she muttered. “There’s an affliction that has wracked my people. They…succumb to the arcane addiction, sometimes. Those so afflicted devolve.”

“And what makes you think that is what ails him? You may be advanced beyond your youth, Alayne, but you are hardly a healer.”

“He found a Vial,” she said, the capital plain in her tone. “Illidan used it on him; used its power to torment him and then to…bathe him in the glow of pure arcane energy. Ger’alin was never much of a mage. He drew only enough to keep from weakening but felt no real pangs when he had to do without,” she explained. “Some meditation techniques he’d picked up among the humans helped him become…less addicted, I suppose, than some of the rest of us. However, now that’s reversed. He’s had a taste of raw power and he is starving for it. It’s killing him,” she said simply, trying not to hear the words. “It’s killed many of our kind.”

“And so you’re just going to leave him?” Mordenai asked, glancing back towards the fortress.

“No. I’m going to return to Illidan’s chambers and dig through anything he may have written about the Vial, the Well, or wardings. The demon laid an enchantment on the Vial Ger’alin has; none can sense it, none can tap into it, until the ward is lowered.”

“So, you’ll break the enchantment and then…?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“It is,” he sighed, more in exasperation than irritation. “Ever have my kind guarded such powerful magics. Mad Malygos himself would have my scaly hide if I didn’t do my duty here. If you manage to break the ward, what will you do?”

“It’s too powerful,” she said absently. “Breaking the warding, especially if I left it in Ger’alin’s hands afterwards, would touch off a war. There were riots in Shattrath when it became known that we had found a single Vial after defeating Lady Vashj. The night elves demanded we hand it over to them for ‘disposal.’ The sin’dorei wanted to keep it. The same thing will happen again here once word gets out. The night elves and their allies will want the Vial turned over to them or to the naaru. Ger’alin would kill anyone who tried to take it from him. The sin’dorei will want it – we have a right to it! – because it contains the very seeds of hope for our people.”

“You speak fine words but you have not answered my question.”

“I’m getting to it. As I said, it contains the seeds of hope for our people and a way to end the threat of the Legion once and for all. Therefore, I will…” she outlined the rough plan 228

she had in mind, wincing and praying that Mordenai would not turn her over. He stood impassively as she explained what she planned, described what she hoped would happen and what she would do if a particular part of her plan backfired. “All I ask is that you hold your peace until after I’ve gone.”

“You realize you could die, don’t you?”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. You’re not going to give me away, are you? Zerith will tie me up and chain me to the floor.”

“It’s too dangerous for you to attempt this alone.”

“I’m not going to take anyone else with me. I’ll take the risks; I will not ask another to take them for me.”

“Well, too bad,” he grinned. “Because the one way to make certain that the first part of your plan works is to impress the Magisters with your power. The child who enslaved a dragon,” he laughed. “I’m coming along with you. Now, let’s go see what we can find in the Black Temple. If there’s nothing, I can always try shattering the warding. After all,” he said ruefully, “I am a nether dragon.”

Alayne shook her head in refusal. “I will do this alone,” she said firmly. “You need not risk yourself in my mad plans. I’m not even certain I’ll be able to sneak away with either of them.”

“I’m coming with you whether you want me to or not,” he said reasonably. “Pray tell me how you’d actually reach his inner sanctum? Sprout wings and fly? Shout and wave your arms and hope one of his followers takes you in? No. I’m coming with you. Besides, from what little I saw of that husband of yours, I rather like him. I just hope that your plan will work and will help him,” he said, cutting off suddenly. No need to frighten the woman more than she already was. “Come along, Alayne. Let’s see what we can find.” ~*~*~*~ “Nothing,” Mordenai sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He wished he had actually seen the Vial and held it. Perhaps then he would have a better idea of what he should be looking for. “Nothing but the ramblings of a megalomaniac. Any luck on your end, Alayne?” he asked. The two of them had not left the Temple in days. Between them both, he thought they may have read every book related to magic and history housed within the massive structure.

“Alayne?” he asked again, more loudly, when the woman did not respond.

“Purple horses dancing,” he heard her mutter softly. “Ger’alin, look at the snowmen.”

Mordenai shook his head. Walking over to where the warlock had fallen asleep, her legs tucked up beneath her, her head resting against one of the wings of the massive chair, he tucked her cloak around her and slipped the book out of her hands.

“Sleep well,” he whispered, squatting down in front of the chair and studying the tome she’d been holding. “Hmph. A primer on kaldorei sorcery. I wonder if there is anything in here I wouldn’t already know. Flipping through the book, he noticed that some of the pages seemed to have come loose. Holding the tome so that its spine faced the ceiling, he shook it, letting them fall into his lap. “These aren’t pages of the book at all,” he muttered.

“Some kind of notes, instead.” Glancing over them, his eyes widened. It wasn’t the exact information on the warding Illidan had laid over the Vial, but it gave Mordenai enough insight into how the man constructed his magical shields to begin to puzzle out what he might have done. Flipping back through the book, he scanned the pages that Illidan’s notes referred to, wishing he could wake the sleeping warlock and ask her thoughts on the matter. Without the Vial in front of him, he could not be certain what he surmised was correct. Alayne had actually seen it; touched it. She would know better than he whether his suppositions were accurate. Glancing up again at her sleeping face, her lips moving soundlessly, he decided to 229

let her sleep on. He had already woken her several times when she nodded off. It had been at her insistence, true, but he knew that mortals required more sleep than the sin’dorei had been allowing herself. “I could do with some sleep myself,” he grinned, stretching out on the carpets. This frame did have some similar weaknesses to those shared by the sleeping woman. He leaned his cheek against the rough, grainy carpet and closed his eyes, intending to catch a few hours’ rest before he woke Alayne and sent her back to Dragonmaw Hold in search of something to fill her belly and, perhaps, to try to convince Ger’alin to “loan” the Vial to her so he could test his theories. The door creaking open made him open his eyes and glare up, albeit his gaze a bit watery as he yawned, at Akama.

“Forgive me, Mordenai,” Akama said. “I was just showing some of the Aldorites…what is she doing here?”

“Resting,” the dragon yawned. “Why? Is she not supposed to be here?”

“She profaned the holy ground of the Temple with her necromancy!” Akama hissed.

The Aldorite priests behind him gasped.

“A sin I intend to make up for,” Alayne muttered sleepily. Akama muttered angrily. “I know what I did was wrong. I could say I was out of my mind with rage. I could point out that my husband had been tortured. I could offer any number of excuses or explanations but I won’t. I was wrong to abuse the dead so. I was wrong to profane a holy place with a blasphemous and un-natural power. However, I will redeem my evil. Or do you believe I am beyond repentance? You, a one-time priest of the Light?”

“What do you intend to do to ‘redeem your evil?’” Akama asked.

“Send the others away and I will take you as my confessor,” she said bluntly.

“Perhaps it is not your custom…”

“Indeed it is not,” he muttered dryly. “I will do as you ask this once,” he said, gesturing for the others to continue on. The Aldorites were as familiar with the Temple as he was; many had lived within its walls before the wars that wracked their world and tore it apart. Stepping into the room Illidan had made his own, glancing around and wishing he could have continued to explain his plans to refurbish this room and dedicate it to the souls of those killed in battle, Akama folded his hands and waited for the woman to begin. Once Alayne was satisfied that, save for Mordenai, they were alone, she told Akama exactly what she had worked out with the nether dragon days ago. The fact that they had not yet found the key was all that kept her from acting. As she explained her plan, Akama’s jaw dropped and his brows nearly lifted off his face. He’d heard of such undertakings in the past to attempt to right a grave wrong, but he’d never dreamed of setting such a task to anyone; not even a death knight who had abused the helpless dead. “I…am at a loss,” he sighed when she finished. “It is a bold plan. However, you may never…”

“If you hear that I have fallen,” she said quietly, “whether to the grave or corruption, shed no tear. Instead, watch after my husband. He has sacrificed everything that made him the man I loved in order to help your people and the orcs.”

“When first war came to Draenor,” Akama began, his voice a soft whisper, “we would pray that the Light would follow those who walked into darkness. Such do I pray again for you, young sin’dorei. I will say nothing of this to anyone. You are right; best to let them steel themselves with anger at what they’ll perceive than to risk giving you away. Please, consider the Temple your home until you find the key you seek.” Bowing deeply, he left them to their study.

“Alayne,” Mordenai said when the woman began casting about for the book she’d fallen asleep reading.

“No,” she muttered. “I could have sworn…there was something in his notes stuffed in this primer I had. I wanted to show it to you. Maybe you could…”

230

“I read it already,” he grinned tiredly. “I was hoping you’d wake up and be able to tell me more about the enchantment on the Vial. From what I could glean of Illidan’s notes, he would have…” the nether dragon droned on, explaining his theories to Alayne. Several times, the woman’s leaden eyelids threatened to cut short the conversation but she was able to fight off sleep and offer suggestions or comments that cemented his belief. “I could do it easily, then, if that’s how he set the warding.”

“The problem is that Ger’alin might not let you near it,” she muttered. “I read Illidan’s journal…where did I put the thing?”

“Oh, I took it from the pile. This one?” he asked, holding up the book he’d termed “ramblings of a megalomaniac.” Alayne nodded. The journal was large and heavy. Illidan had kept it only sporadically over the course of his imprisonment. She wished she had access to his earlier journals; he made references to several entries not in that particular book.

“If you read back, the earlier entries,” she yawned, stuffing a fist in her mouth. “The ones right after he was imprisoned, he rants about the kaldorei’s short-sightedness concerning his second Well. He seems fairly lucid there, recounting that they’d exiled the others who refused to give up arcane magic out of fear of bringing the Legion back down on everyone’s heads. But then, skip forward to the middle…he grows more and more obsessed with the Vials. He wanted them back very badly. He went from being convinced that the kaldorei held them apart out of fear of the Legion to being convinced that they were doing it to spite and torment him personally.”

“I see. Paranoia? Some of my own have been afflicted with it as well,” he muttered quietly.

“You know as well as I do how addictive arcane power is. It’s also corrupting.

Normally, the corruption is slow to take place because magi do not weave massive spells every day. You start out with small magics, small feedings, small bits of pure energetic joy,” she recalled, thinking back to the first days she’d begun to learn how to weave arcane spells from her mother. “Over time, your endurance and ability increase. However, you always have to be cautious. It’s addicting, I know. If you begin to draw too much, too frequently, it can have adverse affects on your mind. That’s why our teachers are so methodical, so rigid, so slow in their teaching. They don’t want us to become so completely addicted that we lose control of the spellcraft. With fel magic,” she sighed, “it’s even worse. But, I’m rambling.

Ger’alin seems to have been exposed to more arcane energy in one hour than I ever had access to in my entire life. He may have been fed more – force fed more – than some of the Magisters have handled. He’s grown so paranoid, so…terrifying and different from what he was just a week ago! I’m no longer certain he’ll even let me handle the Vial.”

“Giving up on your plan already?” Mordenai asked softly, sadly.

“No. I may just have to steal the blasted thing from him. Come on,” she sighed, standing up and swaying unsteadily on her feet. “Let’s see if they’ll still let me back in the fortress. I’ll need one day’s rest before we begin. Let’s meet this evening for a late supper.

I’ll let you know what adaptations we need to make to the plan then.”

“As you command, Mistress,” he teased, bowing formally and falling in behind her.

“Don’t start that yet,” she grimaced. “Not until I give the order. Let’s go.”

As the pair walked slowly, tiredly out of the Temple, Akama watched them go. He had mistrusted the sin’dorei woman, had forgotten what he had learned of her, after seeing her enslave the spirits of his friends and family. Now, as he watched her shuffle down the road, her tired steps taking her into almost certain death to atone for her insanity and to bring a peace he’d never dared dream possible to his shattered world, he prayed that she – and he – would be forgiven before it was all done. “Now,” he said, turning back to the Aldorites, “we will need to request shipments of Khorium and Adamantite from the Mag’har orc clan. We can salvage some by melting down these great statues but we’ll need more to restore…” he 231

continued, his feet firmly on the path to atone for his own misjudgments as the warlock’s were upon hers. ~*~*~*~ “Ger’alin, be reasonable,” Callie groaned. “She doesn’t hate you. I don’t know why she’s been gone four days but it’s not because she hates you. She loves you and you know it!”

“She said she would help me but she’s run off with that Mordenai! I just know it!”

“She has not. I spoke with Tau’re yesterday. She’s locked up in Illidan’s chambers in the Black Temple reading like a madwoman. I guess she’s trying to figure out what he did to you that has made you so ill so she can help cure you. That proves she loves you,” the Forsaken muttered irritably. “If you don’t want to listen to reason, I’m going to stop breaking in here to talk to you. Also, Gerry, you stink pretty badly. Maybe she’s staying away because she can smell that you’ve not bathed in almost two weeks!” she teased, hoping to pull him out of his wallowing.

“Bring me something to drink, would you? Something with a good kick so I can forget that faithless whore!”

“Ger’alin Sunrage,” Callie said, jumping up onto the bed and standing over him, “if you call her that again…”

“Oh please,” he spat, “you damned Forsaken have called her worse!”

“And we were wrong!”

“No, you weren’t!”

“Yes, we were!”

“No, you weren’t!”

“Yes, we…good morning, milady Sunrage,” Callie grinned, seeing Alayne step through the door. “We were just talking about you.” Alayne quirked an eyebrow at them; she’d heard them shouting, calling her a whore, calling her faithless, among other things, since she’d turned down the corridor. Then the stench of the room hit her, making her nose wrinkle in disgust and her stomach turn.

“Bring soap and water,” she muttered to Callie, keeping her eyes down. “He does need a bath. Ger’alin,” she said, forcing herself to call the strange man by her husband’s name, “let me take a look at you.” The rogue loped off quickly, springing lightly from the bed, glad to leave the couple alone. Ger’alin had been inconsolable the past two days since he’d convinced himself that Alayne had run off again.

Ger’alin pushed the covers down and glared at his wife, overjoyed and outraged that she’d returned. Alayne blinked and had to fight to stay calm as she stared at him. In four days, he’d lost almost as much weight as he had in the first week. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken back in his head and a milky, translucent blue. She could see where he’d torn plugs of his hair out of his scalp. Her heart turned over in her chest; he was suffering so much already. How dare she consider making him suffer more? “But it will help him,” she reminded herself firmly. “It will cure him and all of the others like him. The pain will be only temporary and then he will bless your name forever. So will everyone who had turned cold to you; it is the only option you have left, Alayne.”

“I look like hell, I know,” he said flatly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did decide to run off with that hunter.”

“Mordenai?” she choked. “Light of heaven, Ger’alin, he’s not my type. He’s far too old for me, for one thing,” she muttered, tugging the sheets back to the foot of the bed, trying not to notice his wasted and emaciated frame. She fought back tears, remembering how strong he’d been, how safe and secure she’d felt in his arms. “For another, I’ve got you.”

232

“Were you able to figure out how to break the seal?” he asked, desperation in his voice. “I’m no fool, Alayne. I know what’s happening to me! If I don’t get that power soon, I’ll…”

“I’m not certain,” she sighed. “There are a few things I can try but first,” she muttered, “let’s get you cleaned up and then I need some rest. I’ve scarcely slept since I left you. I’ve lost track of the days.”

“Four days,” he groaned. “I can remember when the mere thought of being away from you for four days would have been agony enough to fell me. Now, though, now all I can think about is whether or not you’ve figured out a way to let me tap that Vial in these four days! Light of heaven, what has happened to me?” he asked, his tone despairingly rhetorical.

Alayne said nothing but continued tugging the sheets into a semblance of neatness.

“Alayne?”

“Ger’alin, if I tried it now, I’d fumble it for certain,” she muttered.

“Please,” he pleaded, “please try it. I’ll do anything! Just try it so I can be the man I used to be!” Alayne sighed and nodded. “In the desk drawer. It’s shoved to the back. Thank you, dearest, thank you!” he sobbed gratefully as she took out the Vial. She glanced back at the door, wondering how long Callie would be getting the water, soap, and towels, and, deciding on caution, slipped the Vial into her belt pouch. Sitting down on the foot of the bed, she began concentrating, letting her mind slip around the seemingly solid warding surrounding the Vial. She could sense the miniscule threads of magic, woven together so tightly they seemed one continuous strand extending infinitely in all directions yet finite in their boundaries. For long moments she sat, going through various methods to try to force the strands of magic apart just a hairsbreadth, just wide enough for her to slip around them and crack the warding from the inside, using the Vial’s own power to aid her. Sweat began gushing down her face. She let herself fall more than lay back, collapsing with the effort of trying to penetrate the demon’s magic and the long, sleepless nights and days catching up to her. Just when she thought she felt a shiver in the warding, a sign that her efforts were paying off, the door banged open. She leapt to her feet, startled to see Callie, Zerith, and Dar’ja all carrying buckets of water, soap for washing and for cleaning the room, and fresh linen.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Zerith said evenly. “The next time you decide to slip off for four days, leave a note. If someone hadn’t mentioned seeing Mordenai go off with you, I would have been tearing Outland apart hunting you.”

“I didn’t intend to be gone so long. I just happened across some interesting books and…” she shrugged, grinning ruefully. Zerith stared at her flatly, wiping the grin off her face.

“Now that you’re back, you and I need to talk,” he said in the same even tone. “I will be waiting for you in my room once you’ve finished cleaning up in here.” Setting the bucket down, he motioned for the others to follow him out, leaving her alone with her husband.

“Ger’alin, do you want to tell me what Zerith is going to yell at me about before I go and get my head taken off?” she asked quietly. Putting her hands on her hips, she began planning how to go about making the room habitable again without requiring too much effort from the gaunt figure of her husband. Nodding, she walked over to the side of the bed, reached down and helped him to his feet, and half-carried, half-dragged him to a chair.

Letting him drop in it, she began tugging the sheets off the bed, wondering if the stench could ever be washed out of them.

“Me, probably,” Ger’alin gasped, out of breath from just that short exertion. “He’s been in here every day, whether I wanted him here or not. He knows what’s wrong with me and I think he’s hoping to be the one to break the news to you if you haven’t already figured it out. Alayne, you’ve got to find a way to break that warding!” he moaned. “I don’t want to leave you a widow or the next thing to it!”

233

“I’ll try again in a bit,” she muttered, wrestling the clean sheets onto the padding.

Letting the task of cleaning fill her mind, she felt calmed and soothed by doing something so mundane, so ordinary. Pausing before she picked up the broom lying propped in the corner, she prayed that one day – a day she hoped would come soon – her greatest worry would be whether or not she felt like mopping. Attacking the floor with a vengeance, she quickly swept the dirt and dust under the window and, using a slip of paper, tossed it out of the room. By the time she finished mopping the floor, glad that the smell of strong lye soap had replaced the stink of sweat and sickness, her arms shook with weariness and she could barely lift Ger’alin out of the chair to help him back to the bed. Knuckling her back, she picked up the basin of cooling water and began washing him off, careful not to get the sheets wet. “You will not be leaving me,” she whispered as she gently lifted his shoulders and let his hair fall into the water. “I can promise you that. You will not turn into one of the Wretched. I will do whatever it takes to prevent that.” He smiled at her, a smile so filled with hope and gratitude that her heart skipped a beat and she wanted to throw herself out of the window. Did he have no idea what she was thinking? What she planned and how much it would hurt him? Staring down at his impossibly hopeful face, she saw that he had become so focused on the Vial and its arcane energies, he had forgotten – or lost – the connection they shared. She could still feel his thoughts, could still track the path his mind wandered down. But, no longer could he do the same to her. Part of her was grateful. The other part of her wanted to wail in frustration like a lost child that he would never guess or try to stop her from doing what must be done.

“You should go speak with Zerith,” Ger’alin said as she toweled his hair dry and began brushing it. “I haven’t told him about the Vial. Maybe you should, now that you seem to be close to finding a way to help me. But…maybe…no, he’d try to take it, wouldn’t he?

It’s so powerful, so…he’d want to take it. You’re the only one I can trust with it, sweetheart, because I know that you understand.” Alayne nodded dumbly and, feeling the blissful numbness of exhaustion, staggered down the hallway to speak with her brother. Ger’alin watched her go, something about the way she’d been acting tugging at his mind, telling him that something was extremely wrong. “I’ll be able to recall it later,” he thought, licking his lips in anticipation. “Once she breaks that warding…I’ll be able to recall what it is that has me worried now.”

Alayne knocked softly on the door to Zerith and Dar’ja’s room, hoping it was too soft for them to hear so she could honestly say she’d come down to see what they wanted, assumed they were out, and had decided to take a nap. Her eyelids felt as if the weight of the world hung on them and her whole body craved sleep the way Ger’alin craved the Vial. She tried to put the thought of just how nice it would be to curl up against him and nap out of her mind. Sighing fretfully when she heard her brother’s imperative “Come in!” in response to her knocking, she pushed open the door. She grunted, the wind knocked out of her, when Zerith flung his arms around her and squeezed her tightly. Her knees buckled and only his embrace kept her from falling. It took all of her willpower not to bury her face in his long reddish hair and sob. Taking firm hold of his arms, she forced her legs to support her and stepped back from his embrace, eyeing him coldly, distantly. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered, tears trickling down his cheeks.

“I cannot speak about this,” she said, wishing she could confess to Zerith as she had to Akama. “Is that what you wanted to speak to me about? Ger’alin’s…illness?” Zerith nodded.

“I can’t talk about it,” she repeated, her voice catching. “Not now.”

“I can’t say I understand,” he said softly, the love and concern in his voice nearly melting her resolve. “I can barely begin to imagine what you must…all I can say, little sister, is that I am here. If you need me for anything, at any time, please know that I’m here for you.”

234

“I’ll remember that,” she said faintly, her heart racing as she fought against breaking down and telling him everything. She knew he would stop her; he would talk her out of it.

She couldn’t let him. It was the only way, the only hope left for Ger’alin and for all of their people. Turning on her heel, she walked slowly, wearily, back to her own room. Zerith’s eyes followed her, wondering why his old instincts were shouting at him that Alayne was about to do something foolish. Shaking his head, he opened the window and, sitting in the streaming sunlight, began to pray, hoping that some miracle would heal the Blood Knight or, at the very least, give Alayne the strength and peace she would need once Ger’alin’s transformation was complete.

Back in her room, Alayne sat down on the bed, wishing she had the energy to change clothes. Pulling her feet up, she sighed when she felt more than heard Ger’alin shift and stare at her expectantly. She nodded wearily and, forcing her exhausted mind to slip around the warding, began hammering away at the weak point she’d created earlier. Just as she felt it beginning to give, darkness closed in on her, dragging her eyelids shut with leaden fatigue. ~*~*~*~ Alayne woke hours later, feeling exhausted and lethargic. She wanted to close her eyes again and return to sleep but forced herself to sit up, wincing when the room spun before her eyes and her head began throbbing. Ger’alin sighed, huffing with relief, when she looked at him. “You’re awake,” he grinned, his teeth seeming too large for his mouth. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up.”

Alayne nodded and immediately regretted it. Her vision swam and a wave of nausea gripped her in its sickly fist. She’d been hoping he would have fallen asleep, making it easier for her to simply slip out without having to face him. Without having to figure out a way to trick him. The moment she’d seen the Vial in his hand, she’d known what she’d have to do.

The final details of her plan had unfolded before her like a well-crafted map. The days spent in the Black Temple had confirmed her decision. Still, her heart hurt at the thought of having to deceive him. Firmly, she reminded herself that he was no longer truly Ger’alin. “Give me a few minutes,” she said breathlessly. “A few minutes and I’ll try it again.” Ger’alin smacked his lips in anticipation, crowding close to her and letting his bony chin dig into her shoulder.

Alayne wished he would move back a little; she did not know if she would be able to lie to him with him hovering over her so closely. She was glad she’d fallen asleep before she’d broken the ward completely earlier. There was no telling what kind of reaction Ger’alin was going to have if she lowered the warding while he was nearby. She did need to test to see if she could do it or all would be for naught. Closing her eyes, she focused her concentration once more and felt the warding begin to shiver. Ger’alin’s breathing grew shallow and fast as he felt the thrill of anticipation; he could sense the shield growing thinner. He whispered incoherent praise into his wife’s ear, kissing her neck and shoulder and shivering with a hunger that would soon be satiated. Just as he sensed the thinness growing to insubstantiality, Alayne withdrew her efforts and sighed.

“Come on, dearest,” he said, his lips brushing against her ear. “You almost had it. Just a little more and…”

“It’s not going to work,” she sighed leadenly. “I…there’s a second enchantment hidden beneath the warding. I’d need to study it more thoroughly but I think, unless the warding is lowered in just the right manner, the second spell will cause the Vial to teleport away.”

“You’re not serious?” he whispered incredulously. “Well, you’ll just have to figure out a way to stop that from happening,” he muttered flatly. “I need that power!”

“Ger’alin, it could take me months to…”

235

“You don’t have months! I don’t have months! I don’t care what you have to do; find a way to break that enchantment now!” he howled.

“Ger’alin, I can’t,” she sighed, feeling the acid churn in her stomach as she lied to him. There was no second enchantment. She could break through the warding easily now that she knew what it was. She just did not trust him to let the Vial out of his sight once he was able to tap into it. “I’m sorry,” she said, tears falling from her lashes. Truly, she was.

“You’re sorry?” he snarled. “You’re sorry? I don’t believe you! You just want it for yourself!” he yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently. His fingers closed around her throat, choking the breath out of her. She gasped, black flecks floating in her vision as her lungs screamed out for the air he was holding from her. “You’re a warlock, after all. No doubt you want it all to yourself! I would have shared it with you, you stupid woman!” he screamed, pulling a hand away from his stranglehold to backhand her. She crashed to the floor, his blow wrenching her from his iron grip. She drank in breaths gratefully, shivering, feeling her first true fear of him. As he raged at her, she wept, considering giving in, letting him have the energies of the Vial even though it would, at best, a temporary solution. “Why did I ever give up someone like Ta’sia to chase after you, you faithless whore! She could have broken the enchantment, I’m sure. She would have shared it with me instead of trying to keep it all for herself!” he shouted. Alayne shuddered, trying to remind herself that this person was not really Ger’alin; this was some hideous, dark reflection of the man she loved. Staring at his face helplessly, she looked past the anger, past the gauntness, seeking and finding the remnants of the man she’d married. Her fingers closed around the Vial and she prayed to the Light that he would be so enraged he would forget she had it. “I could be back in Silvermoon now, enjoying life as it came to me instead of out here in this Light-forsaken hell with a worthless warlock who can’t even break a simple warding!

Damn you, woman! Damn you!” he roared, his anger giving him strength. Standing, he walked over and pulled back his foot, preparing to kick her in the ribs, to make her feel just a smidgen of the torment he was going through.

Ger’alin crashed backwards, a sudden force of fury pinning him to the ground. Zerith glared at him, anger contorting the priest’s normally calm features and sheer discipline keeping him from throttling the other man. “I am trying to remember that you are very ill,” Zerith growled between gritted teeth, “but if you ever say anything like that to my sister, if you ever so much as even think about raising a hand to her, illness or no, husband or no, I. Will. Kill. You. Now, what is going on here?” he demanded, shoving himself off of Ger’alin and glancing back to see Dar’ja gathering Alayne into her arms. “What are you screaming about? Someone answer me!” he hissed in frustration. Alayne had buried her bruised face on Dar’ja’s shoulder and was weeping with remorse and sorrow. She held the Vial clutched in her fingers, hidden by the sleeve of her robe. Zerith turned back to glare at the Blood Knight, grabbing the man’s chin fingers that pinched like a vice and tugging him upright. “What were you screaming at her about?” he snarled, his jaws clamped together. “What is it you were going to share with her?”

“Nothing,” Ger’alin said flatly, trying to ignore the way the priest’s fingers dug into his jaw. “I’m not sharing a damned thing with her!”

“Dar’ja, take her back to our room. See if you can take care of those…,” he shuddered, waves of pure anger washing over him, the desire to throttle the paladin whose jaw he held painting his vision red as he saw the finger marks marring the skin of his sister’s neck. Had he been another minute slower… Dar’ja quickly pulled Alayne out of the room, working her healing magic on the woman. “Now, you’d better not ever even think about doing anything like that again, Ger’alin. When I married you two, you swore that you would die before you let any harm come to her. You swore to shield her with your own body, to lay down your life to save hers if need be. The only reason, Ger’alin, that I have not killed you 236

already is because I know you are not yourself. I know that a fate far worse than death awaits you and, at this moment, I’m glad! Do you hear me?” he shouted, shaking the other man as Ger’alin had shaken Alayne, “I’m glad!” Zerith forced his hands away, shaking with rage. He blinked, his vision growing dark, nearly blinding him. “I have heard everything you’ve said since she went off with Mordenai to do Light-alone-knows-what to try to help you! If you think Callie hasn’t been reporting to me, you’re dumber than I ever thought you were. I closed my ears to it, telling myself that you were only upset because Alayne had been gone so long. I told myself that your anger was a mask for your fear of losing her again. I was wrong,” Zerith said, tears of hatred stinging his eyes. “I was wrong and I will never, never let you close to her again! I am going to tell Garrosh and Mor’ghor to haul you out of here so I never have to look at you again! Go and wander with the rest of the Wretched, Ger’alin! You will hurt my sister no more!”

Ger’alin gaped at Zerith, his face turning white. Zerith whirled around, his robes flying out behind him as he stormed down the hallway. Pausing to clutch the wall, his knees buckling and his muscles turning to water from the release of rage, Zerith buried his face against an arm and wept, hammering the wall with his other fist. “Light, why?” he demanded.

“Why let him fall ill? Why let him suffer? Why let him hurt Alayne and why do you let her suffer? Have we not been hurt enough? Why?!” he sobbed, hating the entire situation and hating that there seemed to be nothing he could do to heal it.

Back in his room, Ger’alin stared down at his hands in horror, realizing what he had just done. For a moment, the Vial was the most distant thing from his thoughts as the priest’s words sunk in. The Blood Knight lifted his shaking hands to his face, his fingers becoming talons that tried to claw the sight, the memory, of what had just happened away. Sobs tore his throat, pulling him to the ground as he wept. “Did I hurt her?” he repeated again and again to the empty air where Zerith had stood. “Oh, Light, what has happened to me? How could I?! I deserve this! Light forgive me,” he begged, praying for what he did not believe he could receive. “Alayne, I…,” he gasped breathlessly, recalling the first time he’d realized he was falling for her, the first time he’d sworn to protect her, the memory flaying his soul when he realized that now he was the one she needed protection from… ~*~*~*~ “How are you feeling today?” Ger’alin asked cautiously, standing in the doorway leading to Alayne’s room. The woman was lying on her bed, rolled on her side, staring sightlessly at him. “Better, I hope,” he continued awkwardly, uncertain of whether or not he should enter the room. Zerith and Dar’ja had left the day before, the priest muttering something about gleaning before fall truly set in – whatever that meant. “You’re not going to talk today, are you?” he sighed. “You’re not going to tell me anything. I guess…I’ll have to see for myself,” he whispered, striding across her small room. He stood in front of her bed, completely ignorant of how to proceed. Zerith might push her over and sit down next to her as naturally as he would his true sisters but Ger’alin had never had any experience on how to deal with a woman lying abed. Alayne could be very understanding; she could also be very prudish. He still felt uncertain as to which she would be should she rouse while he checked her. Gritting his teeth and glancing over his shoulder, feeling the ghost of his mother glaring at him for being alone, un-chaperoned, in a woman’s bedroom, he reminded himself that he was only there to see if he could help her. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Ger’alin,” he growled to himself. “She’d flay you if you even thought about it.” He gingerly gripped her shoulder, his touch feather-light, and gently shoved her back so he could sit at the edge of the bed. Taking her head in his hands, he let the healing energies of the Light, the blissful power he drew from the strange creature held captive beneath the city flowing through him, bringing 237

tranquility and hope to his bleak heart. “No change,” he whispered softly, sensing the cracks that had been widening for weeks now. “You’re not…going to get better again, are you?”

He sat there, staring down at her blank face, wishing she would blink, move, or sigh.

He stared for so long that his eyes began to water. “You know what?” he asked suddenly, not expecting an answer. “Those fools can wait on me to teach them how to hold a sword another day. You shouldn’t be left here alone. We are going to sit here and talk, joke, and make fun of each other just like we used to back in Desolace. You remember those times, don’t you?

Running your brother and me up a tree. Chasing me while waving a spear I’m still surprised you were able to heft at all. Reminding me a million times to pick something up off the ground because you were my friend, not my woman,” he grinned, settling down on his side to face her, his eyes even with hers. “We had some great times, didn’t we? Even before that, we had good times. Remember when we attacked Arugal? You didn’t even wait for Zerith to wake up for that one. I remember thinking you were the bravest woman alive as I followed you through that labyrinth of a keep. You never once flinched at those worgen-things. And they certainly couldn’t stand your fire and shadow. Hey, Alayne,” he whispered, reaching over to stroke her cheek. “Do you remember when you and Zerith first started getting people together to go attack Deatholme? I remember it. I was sitting around in Silvermoon, wondering when someone would put me to work doing something other than polishing my armor. I was wandering through the Bazaar, patrolling with Dar’ja, and I heard you crying out ‘We’re looking for brave souls to lead a strike against Deatholme! It is time we reclaimed the Ghostlands for the glory of Quel’Thalas!’ I thought you were an angel made flesh when I turned to see you and heard what you were planning. Do you remember any of this?” his fingers gently brushed through her hair. He moved in closer, so close to her that their noses almost touched. “Why won’t you speak to me now? What are you staring at? Are you going to…forget everything? I’ve never known anyone who went mad,” he sighed, “but, I want you to know that I will do whatever I can to protect you from that. I know you have Zerith to help you but I want you to know that I’ll always be here to protect you from anything. No matter what it is. So…you don’t have to be afraid, you know,” he babbled, closing his eyes to block out the sight of her staring, “I’ll always look after you and keep you safe. So…you can tell me about whatever it is that is wrong with you…just…don’t go away. I’ve lost my parents, I lost everyone I knew growing up. I don’t want to lose you…” ~*~*~*~ “What have I done?” Ger’alin wailed, the rest of the memory searing him. How far had he fallen that he would cause even the slightest harm to her? “Light, what has happened to me? Zerith’s right. I deserve this fate. Do you hear me, Light? I deserve this!” Pounding his fists on the floor, he cried himself to sleep. As he drifted off, he thought he heard faint chimes singing across his mind. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin woke hours later, feeling drained. He opened his eyes, wondering if he were still where he had been or if Zerith had made good on his promise to have the man hauled off.

The carpet beneath his eyes was the same; lifting his head, he saw his wife hunched over the desk, her quill scratching across parchment. “Alayne?” he whispered softly. She stiffened and continued writing. “I can’t ask you to forgive me; all I can say is that I am so horrified at… you should leave now. Find a man who will never hurt you.” The warlock continued to ignore him but, from the way her shoulders shook, he knew she’d heard him. “I’ll leave as soon as I

238

regain enough strength to make it back to Quel’Thalas. Though, from what I know of this malady…”

“Drink this,” she said coldly, shoving a flask at him, her back still to him.

“What is it?”

“Drink it. Zerith said to. He said it would be wise for you to drink it.”

Ger’alin tipped it back and drained the flask. After a few moments, he could feel an overpowering drowsiness threatening to drag him back to sleep. “A sleeping potion?” he yawned. “I just slept the day away. Zerith will no doubt be expecting me to be gone by now.

I’m surprised Garrosh hasn’t dragged me out of here.” Alayne continued to ignore him, her quill moving fluidly across the parchment. When he began snoring, she wiped the stub, dusted the letter, and folded it. Dipping the quill once more, she scribbled Ger’alin and Zerith’s names on the outside and set it, standing so the names were prominent, on the desk.

Lifting shaking hands to her eyes, she wiped away the tears she had dared not let Ger’alin see. She thanked the Light that the man had simply drunk down the dram; she’d been afraid she would have to find some way to trick him into it as she had the others. Ger’alin had been fast asleep, lost in dreams, when she finally convinced her brother to let her return to her room. It was only because Ger’alin had been out cold that Zerith had let her leave his and Dar’ja’s room at all.

“Shall we be on our way?” Mordenai asked quietly. “I think even the Forsaken are asleep. What did you slip in the soup?”

“A strong mix of dreamfoil and lotus,” she muttered. “Zerith says that the healers use that mix when they have to cut someone open to remove an arrowhead or the like. It makes the person fall into a profoundly deep sleep for the better part of a day. That gives us time to do what we have to do.”

“You can always turn back, Alayne. Enjoy what little time you have left with your husband. I…I’ve never seen anyone return from a case this advanced. There’s simply no cure once the withering goes so far.”

“I will not give him up as lost. He never gave up on me until he thought I was dead.”

“Then let us be on our way. We can be in Shattrath before the moon rises. Such dark deeds are best done in darkness.”

“You can always turn back, Mordenai,” she muttered as they walked out of the fortress, the sonorous snores of the sleepers growing quiet as they crept through the shadows and into the night. “I can do this on my own. Why risk yourself for something that you say is a long shot anyway?”

“My kind feel a kindred for your people. We share much – including an allconsuming passion for magic. It comes to us as naturally as breathing. To hear of your suffering, to see the way it is destroying some of your strongest… I like to think that, were the roles reversed, you’d do the same for me. Besides,” he sighed, “you seem to have a gift for inspiring people, for calling them to you, even when it seems hopeless. Perhaps you’ll pull this off. If not, it is a worthy cause to die for – giving one’s life for love.”

Alayne sighed and nodded. The dragon had said as much before when she asked him why he wanted to get involved. “Do you think…if by some miracle I survive…they’ll ever forgive me?”

“They will. They love you just as much as you love them. I don’t think anything you do will ever change that. Now, would you mind turning around?” he asked sheepishly. “I prefer to do this without an audience.” Alayne turned her back on the man and stared at the rocks of the hill in front of her. She forced herself to keep her back turned even when she felt the rush of magic accompanying the incantation that shifted Mordenai to his true form.

“Another five minutes,” his voice whispered across her mind, “I’ve been in elven shape far too long.”

239

While she waited, she let herself think about the absolute disaster the day had been.

After Ger’alin had… her hand crept to her throat, remembering the iron grasp of his fingers.

After that, she had been dragged down the hallway by Dar’ja, the woman desperate to keep her from further harm. Alayne had flinched as if struck when she heard what Zerith was yelling at Ger’alin. The whole thing had been her fault anyway; if she’d been able to think up a better lie, he might not have grown so angry. If she had been able to convince them to stay away from Illidan, he would never have been exposed to such power and begun this terrible transformation. When Zerith had finally stormed back into his own room, shaking and sobbing with a mix of fear, anger, and relief, she had considered just lifting the warding entirely; maybe if Ger’alin could tap into such pure energy, he would learn to control it better, learn to live without having to gorge himself on it to the extent that it damaged his mind, possessing and obsessing him as it had. Once Zerith calmed down, she opened her mouth to pour out the truth, the words freezing on her tongue when her brother signaled for silence and told her that he was going to send Ger’alin back to Quel’Thalas that night. “I couldn’t let that happen. If you send him back…there’s no telling what will happen to him,” she whispered to the darkness, praying her brother would understand. She’d explained as much as she dared in the note she’d left.

“That feels so much better,” Mordenai growled, his voice as low as he could make it in his current form. “I’d forgotten how cramped that shape could be.” Giving himself a shake, he grinned toothily when Alayne turned around and blanched. “Don’t worry,” he joked, “I’m not going to eat you.”

“It’s not that,” she whispered breathlessly, staring at his wings in horror. “Don’t let me fall off,” she said, her voice strained. He nodded and, lowering himself to his belly, did his best to help her clamber onto his back. Once she was settled, her hands holding onto the loose skin and scales at the base of his neck, Mordenai gave himself a mighty push with his hind legs and leapt into the night.

Alayne glanced behind her once, tears stinging her eyes as the fortress grew distant. “I do what I must,” she whispered to those she was leaving behind, “remember that, always.” ~*~*~*~ Sar’la watched the night sky, looking for the first star to appear so she could make her nightly wish. The matrons of the orphanage had told everyone to get in bed and go to sleep but Sar’la could never fall asleep unless she got to make her wish. “What will I wish for tonight?” she wondered. “I think I’ll wish that I’ll get to see Miss Alayne again soon and she and I will go off and have adventures. I haven’t wished for that in a whole week, after all.”

Spying the first star, Sar’la closed her eyes tightly and made her wish. Giggling, she started to return to her bed, the stone floor cool against her bare feet, when she saw a shadow cross the sky. It seemed very far away and very strange; not like any bird or bat the little girl had seen in her life. Watching it, she saw it circle the city a few times before flying back off towards the east. “Whoa, I wonder what that was?” she whispered. Glancing around the room, she satisfied herself that all of the other children were asleep before pulling herself up on the table in front of the window and dropping out. Her mind wove all kinds of possible stories and adventures to explain the strange shape and keep her from seeing the seedy characters who gave Lower City its true name and nature. Keeping to the shadows, she snuck past most of them without notice. The few who did notice her paid a child no mind; a little girl would not carry much gold on her person, after all. Sar’la held her breath as she climbed the ramp leading to the forest. She hoped that the Vindicators wouldn’t find her and take her back to the orphanage. She’d been in a lot of trouble the last time she’d sneaked out after dark. Still, it was fun to sneak out into the night and see what the grown-ups did while kids slept. As she 240

reached the end of the ramp, she stopped, seeing a familiar shape emerge from the shadows of the forest.

Alayne took firm hold of her stomach, reminding herself that she was back on the ground and there was no need to be sick. She reviewed her plan silently to calm herself.

Sneak in through Lower City, take the elevator to the Aldorite’s tier. If questioned, she would say she was seeking a cure for her husband’s sudden illness. “That’s not a complete lie,” she reminded herself. If she could make it to the elevator that lowered to the Scryer’s tier from the Aldor’s, she thought she could probably sneak in the Library through the back. Voren’thal would have put the Vial in the room where all of the other objects of extreme arcane power were stored. Normally – unless her memory failed her or times had changed – it would be guarded only by a pair of Magisters at this hour. They would be relying on the warding to keep intruders out. “Mordenai should fly over and scare the wits out of everyone about the time I make it into the Library. That will pull everyone out onto the tier, giving me a chance to blast through the wall. Why they never think to ward the entire room instead of just the windows and doors is something they’ll reconsider after this,” she grinned. The sewage passage into the Black Temple had given her the idea. “This will work. I can do it,” she said to herself. “Come on, Alayne. Time’s ticking away while you stand here like a rock.”

Straightening, she strode down the ramp, her heart nearly stopping when she heard footsteps running after her.

“Miss Alayne! Miss Alayne!” Sar’la shouted, overjoyed. “I wished you would come and my lucky star brought you!”

“Sar’la, what are you doing out at this hour?” Alayne said, nearly swallowing her tongue. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I snuck out because I saw a big monster in the sky,” the little girl gibbered excitedly.

Adrenaline surged in Alayne, sweat beading on her forehead and heating her underarms. Her palms grew clammy. “Then, I saw you,” the girl continued. “Have you come back to take me with you?”

“Take you with me?” Alayne gasped, her mind racing. “Actually, no,” she said, not wanting the little girl or any of her friends to be hurt. “I’ve come to warn you that an evil dragon is going to attack the city. I have to go up and warn everyone else now. Get back to the orphanage. I will come for you when it’s all over. Oh, do me a big favor?” she asked, forcing her voice to sound light and her eyes to grow wide and bright. “Soon – maybe even tomorrow – some people might come back from a place called Shadowmoon Valley.” Sar’la nodded impatiently, eager to be off and warn her friends so they could find some place safe to hide and watch Alayne battle the evil dragon. “There are two of them I want you to make friends with. They’re both boys. Their names are Zerith and Ger’alin. Ger’alin has been very sick lately so he’ll need lots of attention and lots of you guys to make him laugh. Can you do that for me, Sar’la?”

“Yeah, sure!” the girl nodded as she ran off to warn her friends. Once Sar’la had vanished, Alayne hiked her skirts and ran up towards the Terrace of Light, praying that she would be able to work her way to the Library before Sar’la roused the whole of Lower City.

“Adapting the plan?” she felt Mordenai’s mental link with her.

“If you had listened to me and landed by the ruined thicket instead of insisting on overflying the city ‘looking for a better landing spot,’ this wouldn’t be happening,” she growled through the link. “And, stop eavesdropping on me.”

“As long as you have that scale, I’m going to hear everything you hear. I’ll try to be as menacing as I can,” he sighed. “Let me know when you’re on the Aldorite’s tier.”

Alayne nodded before she could stop herself and sent her thoughts along the link. She could have sworn she felt Mordenai grin ruefully. She kept close to the wall, doing her best to ignore the Vindicators who stood guard on the elevator. The draenei eyed her suspiciously; 241

few sin’dorei allied themselves with the Aldor, but let her pass without incident. “I’m on the tier. Give me two minutes to get to where I need to…I said to give me two minutes, Mordenai! Not two seconds!” she thought angrily as she heard the first screams and saw the other Vindicators begin rushing out of their temple. Hoping she looked like any other terrified civilian, Alayne ran for the rear elevator, heaving a sigh of relief at finding it unguarded. The Scryer guards at the bottom where gone as well. “No doubt they’re looking for a way to have your hide,” she said smarmily. “Good going there, Mordenai.”

“Quit complaining like a she-dragon in season and get about your business,” the dragon snapped, his irritation hitting her mind like a slap. “Women, I swear…” she heard him finish. “Incoming!” he warned just before she heard a fierce roar that nearly deafened her.

“Do all dragons have such a poor sense of timing?” she grumped. “Does this come with living as long as you do, or are you just careless?”

“I’m considered young and hot-headed. Oh no. Try to stay out of that big structure with the golems in front.”

“Why?” she asked. “That’s where I need to…”

A blast of magic hit the top of the Library, blowing the crystalline pylons on the roof off and flinging them away into Nagrand. Another deafening roar followed, this one strangely muted compared to the last. Alayne could sense the currents of magic being woven by the Scryers as they tried to fend off the maddened dragon attacking them. “Don’t get yourself hurt, you big blue lummox,” she sent fondly. “I’m going in. Looks like everyone is out trying to keep you away.”

“All according to plan,” Mordenai gloated. “I’ll circle around a few times, keep their attention. Get in, get it, get out and let me know when you’re back down to Lower City. I’ll meet you at the cave leading to Blade’s Edge Mountains.” Alayne sent her agreement and hurried on through the Library. Books, shelves, and tools of magic lay scattered on the floor where they had fallen when Magisters dropped them or when Mordenai’s attack had toppled them from their places. Alayne heaved a sigh of relief at finding the Library empty. Working her way to the room where the most powerful arcane artifacts were stored, she nodded to herself in delight when she sensed that the warding ended at the door’s edge. Glancing up and down the corridors, ascertaining that no one would see her until it was too late, she lifted her hands and hurled a bolt of shadow at the wall next to the door. Feeling the wall shake, she hurled a second, and a third. The fourth one punched a hole in the wall large enough for her to scramble through. Now if she could just find the Vial she could be on her way.

“What are you doing here?” Jez’ral demanded, a flame springing into existence over his upheld palm. “Alayne?”

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing around the room.

“I’m on guard duty tonight,” he muttered. “Why did you blast in here? What is going on?”

“A dragon is attacking the city,” she said quickly. “I was just looking for a safe place to hide.”

“Safe place to hide? Safe place to hide,” he murmured, finding the words strange coming from her. The more he recalled about her, the less he thought she knew what ‘safe’ meant or would put herself in a ‘safe place’ if she could throw herself in the thick of battle.

“You’re lying.”

“Jez’ral, is the Vial still here?” she asked, her frustration boiling over. She did not have time for this!

“Why do you need to know that?”

“Because Ger’alin has fallen deathly ill and we need the Vial to cure him,” she said quickly and truthfully.

242

“Then he can return to Shattrath. A’dal has given orders that the Vial is not to leave the tier.”

“He can’t come,” she lied, desperation making her sweat. “It must be brought to him.”

“Then you’ll have to go plead your case to the naaru,” Jez’ral said firmly. His eyes were gentle, though, in stark contrast to his tone. “I’m sure that they’ll agree to help you.

They seem to like your husband. Now, come here,” he said, turning his back on her and glancing around for the book he’d been reading. “I found this fascinating text on…what are you doing?” he demanded, feeling her arms slip around his neck. Alayne threw her weight back, pulling the man down and locking her arms in the sleeper hold her husband had taught her.

“Forgive me, Jesthal,” she whispered as her former teacher lost consciousness. “I have no choice.” Reaching in her pocket, she pulled out one of the parchments she’d prepared earlier and stuffed it in the man’s hand, positioning it where it would not be overlooked.

Then, she tore through the room, blasting apart wardings, breaking open drawers, blowing apart lockboxes until she came across the Vial. Stuffing it in her belt pouch with its twin, she quickly wove the shadow magic that kept their presences hidden and climbed out of the hole in the wall. She ran out of the rear of the Library just as the Magisters began returning to it to investigate. They would have felt her frantic search and known that the dragon’s attack was a feint. Creeping quickly through the shadows, she prayed that, one day, they would all understand just why this had to happen. “I don’t like it any more than any of you will,” she muttered to the distant shades of her friends, “but it must be. This is the only way I can see; the only way! Forgive me,” she whispered to the darkness. Firming her resolve, she hurried on to the place where she was to meet with Mordenai to begin the next phase of her desperate, reckless plan. ~*~*~*~ Mordenai shook his head, glad that he had finally lost the Vindicators trailing him. He could feel Alayne’s impatience as she sat, shivering, in the damp swampy marshes waiting for him to get there. “This may take a while. I’m going to have to run instead of fly,” he warned her.

“Why did you go south instead of just coming up here to begin with?” she asked, her irritation grating on the dragon. She was right; he could have easily eluded his pursuers and taken her to their final destination. He didn’t want to admit that now that it was upon him, he was no longer certain this was such a good idea. “Well, why did you?” she demanded insistently.

“To throw them completely off. Had I just headed north, they’d have figured out where we were going quickly enough. By going south until they lost sight of me, I was able to loop back around through Nagrand. I’ll keep to the forests in case any Vindicators or Magisters from Shattrath are out patrolling, looking for a young nether dragon. You mortals can be so persistent.” He snorted at the thought that hit him from the link and began loping through the forests, pausing every so often to get his bearings from the night sky before dashing back off again. Once or twice he froze, hearing the pounding hooves of elekks and the high-pitched caws of hawkstriders. The entire city of Shattrath must have turned out for the dragon hunt.

“I just hope someone finds Jez’ral and my note by morning,” Alayne thought quietly.

“Anything to keep them from guessing where we might really be heading.”

“I have to admit, it’s a good plan. You’re going to have everyone’s head twisted around backwards trying to figure out who did what and why. That will be sufficient to keep

243

them off our trails long enough. Not to mention that the way you’re going to ‘prove’ yourself is, frankly, either insanely courageous or just plain insane.”

“Zerith and Ger’alin would say ‘insane.’”

“They’re more than likely right. They’re quite wise for fellows as young as they are.”

Alayne nodded absently, standing up carefully to glance up and down the road. The few draenei and troll patrols she had seen pass by had not been agitated. “I guess word hasn’t gotten here from…oh no. Mordenai, where are you?”

“Hiding beneath a rickety bridge. A patrol just passed over. There’s a village housing some Broken just south of me.”

“Head north and see if you can swim across the lake. I can meet you in the shadow of the mountains. No way we’re getting through that cavern,” she sighed fretfully. “I can see the mouth from here and there’s a sizeable number of guards grouping up. My guess is that they figured we’re either in Nagrand, Terokkar, Shadowmoon, or Zangarmarsh.”

“Any suggestions?”

“When did I become the leader here?” she huffed. “I suppose we wait them out. If we can just stay calm and hidden, we should be able to elude them until daybreak when, if all goes well, they’ll have found that note I left and will be heading to the Black Temple.”

Several moments of silence passed. Finally, “This water is cold.”

“No kidding,” Alayne muttered, her face heating as she recalled the first night she’d spent in Ger’alin’s arms. True, nothing had come of it, but the memory made her ache to be with him again.

“You’ll see him again. You’ll survive this,” Mordenai thought reassuringly. “He’ll survive, too. He’s a strong one.”

“I wish I could believe that as easily as you do,” Alayne sent.

“It’s simple. Just believe it. If you doubt yourself now, Alayne, you may as well plunge a dagger into your heart and be done with it. It’s a bold plan; it’s a long shot. But it will work. Bah! Water is for naga,” he grumped, bringing a smile to his companion’s face.

“Dragons were meant to soar, not swim.”

“Hurry up and get over here. I can hear you splashing around. Wait, be quiet!” she warned, straining her ears. Slipping into the underbrush near the road, she strained her ears to hear what the guards at the cavern mouth were saying. A sin’dorei Magister, his long cloak emblazoned with Voren’thal’s crest, and a draenei priestess had just ridden up to the guards.

She listened in to their hushed conference, forcing herself not to squeal for joy at what she heard. “It’s working!” she sent triumphantly. “They’re going to pull back to Shattrath and regroup to march on Shadowmoon!”

“So, they found your note?”

“It seems so. From what I could hear, Jez’ral must be fine. He may be a little upset with me, though.”

“A little? You knocked him out!”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“I know. I’m teasing you a bit. Clear your mind and let me hear them as well.” “…knew we never should have trusted them. Such a band of vagabonds, low-lives, and undead,” the sin’dorei was saying. “We should have known they would try to take it back.”

“What does A’dal say of this? If the Disorder of Azeroth has decided to go its own way, that is yet another threat we must contain while trying to juggle your prince and Illidan Stormrage. And, what if they decide to taint the Mag’har and the Dragonmaw to control them?” one of the Vindicators asked. “Would you stand against your own younglings, even at that?”

244

“As soon as we can capture them, rest assured that what we’re going to do to our ‘younglings’ would make anything you had in mind look like a day in the park! Such betrayal will not be tolerated! Now, call what you can spare of your forces out to Shattrath. We leave at first light to confront this Disorder of Azeroth and ground these overambitious children.

Thus has A’dal ordered.”

“That is not exactly what the naaru said,” the priestess murmured. “He said that it is our destiny to confront those children. Not that we would be successful. It is ill-luck to boast of a battle yet unfought.”

Alayne shook her head, hoping that they would leave quickly on their way. First light would be in a few hours; it would probably take that long just to finish assembling their forces. By the time they reached Dragonmaw Hold, Zerith and the others should be awake. If not, then the forces from Shattrath would be most surprised to find a fortress filled to the brim with snoring sleepers. She stifled a giggle and watched intently, waiting for them to move on.

When they finally did, pulling all but two of the draenei guards away from the mouth of the cavern, she heaved a small sigh of relief. “Think we can take them?”

“Easily,” Mordenai whispered, making Alayne shiver in fright. She had not heard him creep up behind her. “As a matter of fact, this will involve no fighting. Just give me a moment,” he winked, staring in the direction of the guards and concentrating. Alayne felt the rush of arcane power surge through him as he muttered in his native tongue, the words sounding flat and lifeless on his elven lips. He grinned in satisfaction when the guards toppled over, snoring brokenly. “Almost as effective as your herbs,” he joked. Holding a hand down for her, he pulled the warlock to her feet. “By the time they are found or wake on their own, the cards should all be out on the table.”

“I know,” Alayne said, taking his hand. “Come on. We’ve still got a ways to go before this is over.” Glancing back south, praying that all would be well, Alayne and Mordenai jogged into the tunnel, leaving Zangarmarsh behind. ~*~*~*~ “This is it,” Mordenai sighed as they reached the border into Netherstorm. “Once we start, there is no turning back. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. You might as well shift now,” Alayne said tiredly. “Light, I’ll be so glad if this goes off without a hitch.”

“Before we take off,” he grimaced, “have you considered what might happen to you?

I’m well aware of the dangers I run but, Alayne, they are not going to kill or harm me too greatly. An arcane-wielding dragon is too valuable. A young warlock, however…”

“We’re not exactly a dime a dozen ourselves, you know,” she muttered defensively.

“The worst I fear, besides outright execution, is torment. Still, the story I’ve concocted has enough truth in it to convince any but the most paranoid. I just hope I’m able to speak with Kael soon. Even in the best of times, royalty can drag things out for years with their blasted ‘prerogatives.’”

“Remember that it’s King Sunstrider, not ‘Kael.’ One slip of the tongue like that and your head will go on a pike.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered dryly, turning her back on the dragon.

Mordenai uttered a quick prayer that the Light would keep them safe in this desperate course of action and then sloughed off his elven form, spreading his wings and sighing luxuriously in his true shape. Letting his belly lower to the ground again, he helped Alayne climb aboard his back once more. “Fly low,” she requested, feeling her stomach begin to churn.

245

“Calm down. I’m not going to drop you,” he promised, hearing her heart race.

Shoving off the ground with his hind legs, Mordenai turned, dipping his wing, and began to fly towards their final destination: the floating fortress called Tempest Keep.

As they drew near, Alayne assumed her frostiest demeanor and forced the panic she felt at being so high off the ground down into the soles of her feet. Wrapping herself in arrogance, she sent mental commands to the dragon. Mordenai obeyed them immediately, aware of the change in demeanor and knowing that, from this point forward, he must play the role of a trapped minion perfectly or he’d give them both away. He hovered for a moment on the verge of landing on the crystalline dock, the sin’dorei guards standing stock-still and hiding their shock and awe quite well. “Land, beast,” Alayne said peremptorily, her voice carrying down to the guards below. Mordenai forced the area clear, his wings flapping, stirring up mighty gusts of air before he landed, surprised that the delicate crystal did not shiver under his weight.

“Who goes there?” one of the guards demanded when Alayne leapt lightly off her mount’s back.

“One who brings the keys of victory,” Alayne said airily. “I have come from Shattrath. I bring information about those who oppose our king as well as a gift of great power. I beg an audience with King Sunstrider at his earliest convenience.”

“No one just shows up and gets an audience with our king,” the guard said coldly. “If you are what you claim, you will not object to our…requirements before you are permitted within our king’s presence. First, your name?”

“Alayne Dawnrunner, daughter of the late Sergeant Tal’ar Dawnrunner and his late wife Miris of Fairbreeze Village.”

“Miris and Tal’ar’s daughter?” the other guard said wryly. “I’ve heard about your mother. Quite a scandal she caused before you were born.” Striding over to eye Alayne, giving her a weighing look, he nodded. “You are your mother reborn. You will come with us.

Ted’roni, Narla! See that this beast does no harm.”

“This creature is under my complete control,” Alayne said smoothly. “I found him in Shadowmoon in the guise of one of our kindred. I believe our king will find his services quite…useful. Dragon,” she said contemptuously, “assume your elven form.” Mordenai shifted, the magic flowing around him as he transformed into the hunter guise he favored among mortals. As he changed shape, Alayne muttered an incantation that made the guards stare at her in awe. The words of draconic magic tumbled from her lips. By the time the transformation was complete, Mordenai stared blankly, sightlessly ahead, his will overpowered by the warlock’s magic.

“Do whatever they ask of you. Fight only if they try to kill you,” Alayne sent, worry gnawing along the link. “Remember, you are supposed to be my slave.”

“Blindfold them both,” the guard said, unable to suppress the shock he felt. “We will take you to where you will stay until our king is satisfied of your loyalty to his cause.”

Alayne tried not to panic when the scrap of cloth blinded her. Keeping her head held high, she tried to maintain an unworried, even glide as the guards led her into the shining crystalline vessel. A faint tingling sound from her belt pouch reassured her; Kael’Thas would not doubt her loyalty at all once she handed him the remaining two Vials. “I do only what I must,” she thought silently, hoping and praying that one day Zerith and Ger’alin would understand.

246

Chapter Nineteen: A New Twist

G

er’alin’s head rang and his mouth tasted as if something foul had crawled onto his tongue, vomited, suffered from diarrhea, and then died. Grimacing, still half-asleep, he scraped his tongue against his teeth, hoping to scrape away the rancid taste. “Alayne, I had the strangest dream,” he whispered. The door to the room banged open and he blinked, trying to wake up enough to see what was going on.

“Outside. Army. Aldor and Scryers. Huge. Siege!” Zerith yelped. “Where’s Alayne?” he said, noticing his sister was not where she said she would be. He had not been happy at all with the idea of her returning to her own room but she had insisted. After all, she’d pointed out, Ger’alin would be leaving soon on Zerith’s own orders. That the Blood Knight was still there made the priest’s anger begin to surge again. Light blind him; Ger’alin was supposed to be gone by now!

“I don’t know,” Ger’alin muttered carefully. “She gave me that potion you mixed to help me and then I fell right back asleep. She was sitting at that desk; she wouldn’t even look at me. Not that I blame her.”

“Sitting here?” Zerith asked, seeing a note with his and Ger’alin’s names on it.

Ger’alin tried to nod but couldn’t. Panic gripped him as he discovered he was paralyzed.

“What did you give me? Is it not enough that I’m going to die? Light, Zerith, I’d have left as soon as I woke up yesterday afternoon if you hadn’t mixed whatever it was that put me right back under. I swear, priest, I did not lay another hand on your sister and I never will again for as long as I live! I am horrified at what I…no, I have no right to say it anymore. I will leave, Zerith, I swear, and I want you to see that Alayne’s next husband is someone who would never dream of doing what I…” he trailed off, seeing Zerith’s face turn white and his brow furrow as he began to puzzle things out.

“I didn’t mix anything for you,” Zerith muttered, his anger beginning to dissipate.

“However, the mysterious depletion of the dreamfoil I’d been collecting is now suddenly explained. As are my wife’s stomach cramps and the reason that even the Forsaken look dazed! To Zerith and Ger’alin,” he read the note standing on the desk. “Dammit, Alayne, what did you do and why?”

“What’s going on? Where is Ala…,” Ger’alin started to demand, “why can’t I move?”

“What did she give you?”

“I don’t know,” he swore. “It was in that flask there on the floor.”

Zerith picked up the flask and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled in distaste. “Lotus mixed with dreamfoil. Surgeons use it. She really wanted you out. Now the question is why.”

“What are you babbling about? You ran in here saying something about a siege and now you’re babbling about Al…,” he hesitated, uncertain if he still had the right to say her name.

“Listen to this,” Zerith growled, still perusing the note in Alayne’s flowing script.

“Zerith and Ger’alin,” it began, “I do not ask forgiveness or understanding. I do what I must.

Zerith, Ger’alin found a Vial of Water from the Well of Eternity. That is the cause of his 247

current malady. It is clear he is devolving into a Wretched; Illidan no doubt used the Vial on him in sufficient concentrations to cause his latent addiction – the addiction we all share – to grow beyond all bounds. His mind may have been damaged. Look after him until such a time as he is able to look after himself. Ger’alin: I do what I must. Know that. I have taken the Vial…”

“She took it? Where? Where is she? She can’t take that from me! It’s all I have left!

It’s my only hope!” Ger’alin wailed, gnashing his teeth and wishing he could move. “Damn her! She drugged me and stole it! How could she?”

“We’ll discuss your finding an artifact of rare power and not bothering to tell any of us later,” Zerith said mildly, forcing his temper down. This made sense of everything. He’d been completely mystified by Ger’alin’s transformation. “Yes, she took it. To continue, ‘I have taken the Vial to where I may study it at my leisure. Do not attempt to track me down; you will not find me until I am ready to be found. I do what I must; nothing more and nothing less. Alayne.”

“I’ll…I’ll…How could she do this to me? She knows, damn it, she knows I need that Vial!” Tears of helpless rage leaked out of Ger’alin’s eyes. He had not felt this betrayed since waking up to find Ta’sia lying next to him. “Damn her!”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?” Zerith asked quietly. “Another Vial. That explains a lot about what is wrong with you. I’d been trying to figure out why you were suddenly succumbing to your addiction since I realized that was what was happening.”

“Because you would have taken it from me and handed it over to the naaru. You would have said it was too powerful. You wouldn’t have let Alayne try to break the warding on it so I could use it and be the man I know I still am!”

“Ger’alin, we’ll discuss this later. For now, I’m going outside to talk with our besiegers and find out just what is going on. I have a bad, bad feeling about all of this,” he said, clutching Alayne’s note in his hand and wondering if she had done something to bring the defenders of Shattrath down on their heads. He paused just before leaving the confines of the fortress, glancing back the direction he’d come. Ger’alin had been less than incoherent since Alayne left to go to the Black Temple. The priest had put it down to the man’s being worried and having just suffered through an unbelievable trauma. “However,” he said, tapping his lips thoughtfully, “just now, he sounded saner than he has since before we hatched that mad scheme to sneak him into the Temple. Maybe her taking that Vial away is a good thing.” Shrugging and giving his long hair a tug, he put his speculations aside and hurried out to meet his ‘enemies.’

In the meantime, Ger’alin lay on his back, wondering when he would be able to move again. ~*~*~*~ “You there! Priest! Lift your hands to the sky and keep your mouth shut! One word that sounds like an incantation and you’re dead!” a Magister screamed at Zerith as the man stepped out of the gates of the fortress. Zerith did as directed, fuming silently. What had happened to turn the Scryers and, from what he could see, the Aldor, against them? “Have you come to surrender?” the Magister asked after he finished searching the priest’s pockets, satisfied that the man carried no weapon beyond his hands and his faith.

“Surrender? I came to ask why there is even a battle. Not that there seems to have been much of one,” he muttered sullenly, glancing back to see the few scorch marks marring the top of the wall. “Most of those on the inside are still asleep. Some are still paralyzed, it seems.”

“Asleep? Paralyzed?” the Magister said disbelievingly.

248

“By all means, go in and see for yourselves. None will harm you unless you threaten them,” Zerith replied graciously. “I think only ten have woken from their drug-induced sleep and only nine of them are mobile.”

The Magister gestured for the man to remain where he was and hurried off. A quick conference between the Scryers and the Aldor ensued, the result of which was a handful of Aldorite priests and Scryer magi entered the fortress, spells on their lips and wands in their hands. “May I ask why Shattrath sends forces against their allies?” Zerith asked. His words were perfectly polite, his tone, utterly sarcastic.

“Shattrath does not attack its allies. You…we have reason to believe your group has betrayed us,” the Magister said, glancing around uneasily. “The City of Light was attacked last night.”

“I assure you, no one here was in any position to attack anything other than a pillow last night.”

“So you say, priest, so you say. It was a nether dragon that attacked us. However, while we defended our homes against the rampaging beast, someone else, someone claiming to represent the Disorder of Azeroth, broke into the Library and stole an artifact. The lone guard who remained at his post has not yet woken; he was assaulted and left unconscious by the intruder. Whoever it was left this,” he continued, thrusting a note at the priest. Zerith sighed and took it. He recognized the handwriting; it matched the one he had stuffed in his pouch.

“I have come to claim what is mine by right. For too long have I simpered, ducking my head in obedience to those who are too fearful to reach out and grasp destiny with both hands. Know that the Disorder of Azeroth and our allies, the Mag’har and the Dragonmaw, will tolerate the naarus’ interference no longer. We have toppled Stormrage from his throne and taken control of the Black Temple. Should Shattrath wish to deal with us, it will do so on bended knee. Witness our strength; even the lowliest of us can shatter your sanctuary and take back what should never have been surrendered. Signed, The Disorder of Azeroth,” Zerith sighed and handed the note back to the Magister. “I want to show you something. It is in my belt pouch. It’s another note. Reach in and take it,” he offered, showing his good will by trying to allay the man’s suspicions. The Magister accepted his offer and, after squeezing the pouch in his hand to assure himself there were no traps for his hand, he opened it and removed the crinkled-up note.

“The handwriting is the same,” he muttered. Zerith nodded. “Who is ‘Alayne?’”

“She’s my sister. I don’t know what has come over her,” he said quickly, “she did not have my authorization to do anything, especially not lead an attack against Shattrath. I believe she may be…perhaps…over a week ago, we killed Illidan Stormrage,” he sighed.

“After he was dead, one of my followers found a Vial of water from the Well of Eternity on the demon’s body. He took it and brought it back here, unknown to any of us. As you no doubt have heard, we were the ones who found the first one, the one that is stored in Shattrath. Had I known at the time my friend had such a thing, I would have arranged for it to be transported to Shattrath immediately. I did not learn until this morning that he had it.”

“It was the Vial that your sister stole from our Library.”

“I had guessed as much. The man who found the one from Illidan is my sister’s husband. According to her note, you can see that she believes Illidan may have imbued her husband with so much arcane energy that his addiction has…flared up, for lack of a better way to describe it. At this moment, he lies in bed, unable to move, devolving and diminishing before our very eyes.”

“Turning into a Wretched,” the Magister muttered as he finished reading the note.

“That’s a fate that I would not wish on anyone. But why would she attack Shattrath and steal

249

back the Vial? I recall that someone with your group found it and it was turned over to our control peacefully enough.”

“That is a question I would very much like to know the answer to myself,” Zerith said sorrowfully. “I don’t know why she would. But, knowing my sister as I do, I think she may be desperate to help her husband. When it comes to those she loves, Alayne can quickly become irrational and unreasonable. She may have stolen the Vial, intending to find a way to use both of them to heal Ger’alin. I think she may be hiding in Nagrand or Zangarmarsh, maybe even Hellfire Peninsula, trying to figure out a way to…I have no idea what she would be trying to figure out what to do, honestly. Or why she would feel the need to steal both Vials.”

“Ger’alin? Ger’alin Sunrage? He is the one who has fallen ill?” the Magister asked, sounding stunned. Zerith nodded. “We will escort all of you back to Shattrath. A’dal and the Aldor speak highly of young Ger’alin. The naaru said he was well on his way to becoming a true paladin and not just a Blood Knight. Shaina, what of those inside?” he asked the Aldorite priestess who approached them.

“The sin’dorei spoke truly. Only a few are awake. Almost everyone lies asleep, heavily drugged. We found dreamfoil and lotus blossoms mixed in with the food left on the cook fires. Whoever did this wanted to make certain that no one would wake up before this evening.” Zerith shook his head, wondering why Alayne would have drugged everyone so strongly and why he and Dar’ja had escaped the worst of it; he’d examined the wine cups she’d brought them, finding traces only of dreamfoil. Clearly she’d wanted him awake.

“What are you up to, sister?” he muttered beneath his breath. “Come with me,” he said to the Magister and the priestess. “Let us try to find enough carts and rig up enough litters to see the lot of us back to Shattrath. Perhaps there we can figure out where my sister is hiding and what she intends to do with two Vials.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and shook his head. “This is too convenient,” he muttered sullenly. He and Har’lon, the Magister who had confronted him at the gate, stood in the library of the Black Temple, poring over tomes Alayne had left behind, hoping to discern the woman’s mad plan. “Books on the nature of the Well of Eternity, arcane addiction, possible methods of treatment, kaldorei culture after the Sundering… All I can puzzle out is that she was trying to figure out how to help Ger’alin or why we devolve when our addiction takes hold. Nothing on where she might have been going or what she might be planning.”

“Still, these books would be most useful to our cause in Shattrath,” Har’lon murmured absently, thumbing through a tome on kaldorei wardings. “Most useful indeed.”

“We will have to ask the rightful keepers of the Temple for permission to remove them,” Zerith replied diplomatically. “I don’t think they would prevent us from having access to them, though.”

“Indeed, indeed. Your sister…she is a warlock, is she not?” Zerith nodded. “I remember the early days, just after we had come through the Dark Portal. Some of our magi took the fel path, becoming warlocks, hoping to figure out a method to siphon pure arcane energy out of demons. The results of their studies created the mana crystals that hover all over Quel’Thalas, powering many of our magics. Do you think your sister may have taken the Vials to try to use them to distill demonic energies? Perhaps to create a Well here in Outland?”

“There is no telling,” Zerith admitted frankly. “While I suffer as much as any other sin’dorei, I put my faith in the Light. I know little of arcane dealings or fel powers. In truth,

250

among our group, it is Alayne who is the expert in both. Why do you ask? Do you have any glimmer of where she may have gone?”

“I have been puzzling over it all afternoon,” Har’lon sighed. “I admit, I paid little heed to you children – don’t grimace, I’m almost ten times your age, young man – but, I have been considering what I or another Magister might do in her situation. The best place to conduct such studies is in the Netherstorm…”

“Alayne wouldn’t know that. She’s never been there. Something tells me that she knew where she was going, though. That she had a location chosen and knew how to get there.”

“We lost sight of the beast when he flew beyond the broken edge of the world. Only the guard on duty would have caught sight of your sister. Perhaps when we return to Shattrath, he will have awoken. Perhaps he’ll remember something. Not that his memory is at its best,” Har’lon sighed. “For now, we’ve done all we can here. I believe everyone should be awake back at the fortress and the effects of the drug should have worn off enough for them to sit their saddles. Let us be on our way, priest.” Gathering up a few of the thicker books, the pair began to make their way to the exit of the Temple. Its great doors still lay in shattered pieces on the ground, a gentle, persistent breeze blowing through the entrance, cooling the sanctuary even while bringing in dust from outside. Coughing and blinking the sandy grit out of their eyes, the two sin’dorei stopped short at a peremptory shout from the far side of the balcony.

“Halt!” a gravelly voice called out to them, bringing them to a standstill. “Where do you think you’re going with those books? Who said you could take them?”

“Akama,” Zerith sighed, unable to think of anyone he’d rather see less at the moment.

“We are merely going to borrow them. Perhaps some of the scribes in Shattrath can make copies and we will return the originals as quickly as we can. However, these are the books that…” he paused, uncertain of whether to mention his sister’s name around the former draenei priest. “They have information we believe may help us heal Ger’alin,” he said finally.

“Heal Ger’alin? Has he fallen ill?” Akama asked, hating having to deceive his brother priest. Though the Light had long since forsaken the Broken, Akama still felt a kinship with his fellow devotees of the Light – even more so now that the Temple of Karabor was being restored.

“He has been stricken with a malady that sometimes afflicts my people,” Zerith said truthfully. “Someone was here, looking through these books, looking for answers. Perhaps that person found some. However, whatever he or she found was not passed on to the rest of us. We must begin the research again.”

“It’s that death knight, that perversion, you’re referring to,” Akama spat. “She was here, yes. Tearing through Illidan’s library like a thing possessed. Only our disgust at her profanation stayed us from killing her for her presumption. Tell that woman she is never to set foot on our holy ground again! The next time, the penalty will be more than merely being tossed out on her rump.” Zerith’s eyes narrowed and he began breathing heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring out in anger. “Take the books. Perhaps you’ll find whatever she found before she ran off and left her husband to die.”

“Now you listen here,” Zerith growled, reaching for Akama. The Broken eluded the sin’dorei easily and began stumping off quickly away. Har’lon raised his eyebrows at Zerith.

“Alayne was one of those who fell ill and went to Northrend,” the priest muttered, straightening his stole.

“Light of heaven preserve us!” Har’lon gasped. “She wouldn’t have taken the Vials to…”

“No!” Zerith shouted. “Never! She fell ill; she was insane! She returned to us and foreswore him forever! She would never, never turn such power over to the Lich King. She’d 251

sooner turn it over to the Legion!” Har’lon studied the priest. “Yes, I’m prejudiced. She’s my sister. But she would never return to Arthas. Never.”

“As you say. Come, let us gather in the rest of your friends and see ourselves back to Shattrath. From there, we can begin sending out search parties to see if we can find your sister before she does something even more foolish than what she’s already done.”

“Is she…how much trouble will she be in when she finally returns?” Zerith asked hesitantly, not certain he wanted to know.

“For leading an attack against the City of Light,” Har’lon said, ticking off her crimes on his fingers, “not to mention theft, assault, attempted murder on a scale I don’t believe you could begin to contemplate…she’ll be handed over to the Vindicators and the naaru to face whatever justice they decide to mete out. That is, if the night elves don’t find her first.

Var’thanos has riled the entire Cenarion Circle up against her. If the kaldorei get their claws on her, she may not live to face A’dal.” Zerith sighed and wiped his hand over his face. For a moment, he prayed that Alayne would never be found. “The naaru are wise and just. Surely A’dal knew what was in your sister’s heart. Twice before when Kael has sent demons to attack our outposts in the Netherstorm, the naaru with us have utterly decimated them with but a single pulse of pure Light. I believe, if A’dal had felt we were truly threatened, your sister and her dragon would already be dead. Still, the ways of the naaru are not for us to understand,” he admitted uncomfortably.

“Alayne, why do you always seem to leap in without checking to see if there is water below?” Zerith whispered beneath his breath. “Be safe, where ever you are. Stay there until I can figure out a way to keep your head on your shoulders. Light, look after her until we can bring her safely home.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne shivered, the blindfold still wrapped tightly around her eyes. She was wellguarded. Her small cell felt cramped; even blindfolded, she could tell that it was barely four paces across. She tried to hold on to her icy, arrogant demeanor, reminding herself that, while she should occasionally demand to see her king and ask if she was under arrest, she shouldn’t do it too often, lest she provoke her captors. She lifted her head, her nose to the ceiling, when she heard the door creak open. “Have you finally come to conduct me to King Sunstrider?” she demanded. “I cannot believe he would order such confinement to one who brings the keys of victory.”

“Our king will see you,” her guard muttered sullenly. “However, if you take so much as one breath that displeases our king, it will be your last.”

“Nothing I do will displease King Sunstrider,” she said wryly. “Have I not brought him a mount worthy of his exalted station? Have I not given him information vital to crushing the rebellion? I am loyal to House Sunstrider and King Kael’thas or may the sun abandon me and I walk in the darkness of night for the rest of my days,” she said formally.

“Come on,” the guard growled, grabbing her by the arm and hauling her out of the cell. “Enough words. Let us see some action or let us see you dead.” Alayne fought to keep her head held high as she was escorted – dragged, in truth – to see her ruler. She tried to keep track of the twists and turns, tried to count the stairs she ascended and descended, tried to get a feel for the floating fortress but, her efforts were in vain. With the blindfold covering her eyes, she could no more discern the layout of Tempest Keep than an infant could expound upon metaphysics. Soon, she tripped, falling to her knees when her guard halted suddenly.

“You are in the presence of his illustrious majesty, King Sunstrider, lord of Quel’Thalas, ruler of the sin’dorei, defender of the Sunwell,” her guard intoned, his sonorous voice ringing throughout the spacious chamber.

252

Alayne felt the blindfold being wrenched off her face. She groveled on the floor, her nose pressed against the tiles, prostrate before her rightful king and ruler. She could feel his presence without even seeing him; the aura of power and majestic magic emanated from him as light from the sun. For a moment, she shivered, wondering how she had ever dared even consider rebelling against such a wise, noble, and puissant being. “There is no need for all that,” Kael’thas said, sounding humbled and amused. Alayne blushed, pressing her face harder against the floor. Her heart thundered in her chest. “Come, rise. Let us see your face; let us see your eyes, my child.” Pushing herself to her feet, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his. She gaped, overcome with awe. Kael’thas’s eyes glowed green, amusement making them dance and sparkle. His face could have been carved from the finest marble, each feature carefully chiseled and sanded into a fel, fey beauty that made her think the statues of him back in Silvermoon did not come close to doing him justice. His long blond hair flowed down his back and framed his nearly perfect face; its only flaw a slight tint of desperation in the set of his mouth. “You claim to have come from the rebels, child, with information that will lead us to victory. Speak; tell your king what he wishes to know.”

“My lord,” she said, falling to her knees once more, “I have. I have come from a group calling itself the Disorder of Azeroth. This group consists of many seasoned fighters, veterans of campaigns both in our world and here in Outland. Lately, they have vanquished the mongrel Illidan. Before that, they slew the Lady Vashj.”

“That much we know, child,” he said patiently. “Tell us something more. Tell us of who leads this group and how they may be defeated.”

“Their leader is…Zerith Lightbinder, a priest of the Light and a man with an uncanny knack for military planning. He is assisted in that role by Ger’alin Sunrage, a Blood Knight, who learned much of campaigning and strategy in his adolescence among the humans of Stormwind and later Theramore, where he served as a guard in Lady Proudmoore’s forces.

Between the two of them, they possess creativity, ingenuity, and intelligence to quickly put together viable battle plans and adapt them as needed.”

“What tactics do they favor?”

“They favor overwhelming the enemy with numbers and strength where possible.

However, subtlety is not beneath them. In their conquest of the Black Temple, Lightbinder devised a cunning plan.” Alayne quickly described the multi-pronged attack and the coordination required to pull it off. By the time she finished, Kael’thas was obviously impressed. “As you can see, my lord, they are no mere rabble.”

“Indeed they are not,” he mused thoughtfully. “You come from them; you know them well?” Alayne nodded. “What of the chance they could be convinced, as you, to foreswear their rebellion against us? We would rather not kill such excellent tacticians as you describe.”

“I…I do not believe they will put down their rebellion, my liege. They have thrown their lot in with Voren’thal and his Scryers.”

“And you, child? You come here from them, claiming to have foresworn your rebellion against us. We have granted this audience because we once promised that if any of Voren’thal’s followers came to their senses, we would be a gracious and forgiving ruler. Why do you come to us? And, this information, while useful, is hardly what we would call the ‘keys to victory.’”

“I…I realized that you were right, my King,” she groveled. “The Sunwell must be restored. The light of its rays must shine once again. I was wrong to persist in my rebellion against you, against that. I have come to offer whatever poor assistance I may in reigniting the heart of our power. To this end, my liege,” she said, slipping her hand into her pouch and pulling out the two Vials, “I give you these Vials. They contain water from the Well of Eternity. One was taken from the corpse of Lady Vashj. The other, from Illidan. With these, you may be able to return us to our former glory.”

253

“You would offer me this power freely?” Kael’thas said, stunned out of his normal formality. “You would give me the last two Vials? Child, Illidan himself had given me a Vial when I pledged to aid him. And now, you give me the other two; the two I have hungered for.”

“I do this as a sign of my obedience to you, my King,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Only you are wise and powerful enough to be able to use them. I give them to you to prove myself your humble servant.”

“You are a good child. We are…pleased with your offer. Now, look me in my eyes, child,” Alayne forced herself to meet his gaze. Her heart began to slam against her ribcage as she felt the magic washing over her. “So many have betrayed me; I trust so few. Swear your absolute allegiance to me and you may go free. Refuse, and you will be granted a swift, merciful death for your gift.”

The words of the ancient pledge of fealty rolled off Alayne’s tongue before she could think to recall them, “I hereby swear fealty to my lord, Kael’thas of House Sunstrider. May my every action please my lord and may I strive to reflect only his glory. My life, as well as my death, is pledged to the service of my king.” She could feel the sting of tears in the back of her eyes as the magic bore the oath down on her. She should have known Kael would demand such utter obedience. At least, she could maintain her true loyalties in her mind. She felt a calm brush of reassurance from Mordenai, giving her the strength to go on.

“I accept your pledge and vow that I will protect you against winter’s chill and night’s darkness,” the lord of the sin’dorei said magnanimously. “Your name, child?”

“Alayne Dawnrunner,” she whispered.

“Dawnrunner. Dawnrunner,” he said absently, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I recall something about a Dawnrunner once. It was years ago; before you were born. Vangri,” he said, more loudly, gesturing back towards the guard. “Escort my vassal to her new quarters in Manaforge Duro. See that her talents are put to good use. Obey those set over you, Alayne Dawnrunner, and you may rise high, like the sun.”

Alayne shivered as she left Kael’thas’s presence. The memory of the overpowering awe she’d felt still gripped her. “Light help me,” she prayed, “I do what I must.” It had become so clear to her when she saw Ger’alin holding the Vial, saw him twisted into a mockery of the man he was. “The Sunwell must be restored,” she said, uncertain of whether she was trying to convince herself or the Light. “Whatever the cost; the Sunwell must be restored.” ~*~*~*~ Empty. Hollow. Abandoned. That was how Ger’alin felt as he watched the sky pass overhead through unblinking eyes. She had run off with Mordenai and had taken the Vial.

Part of him gibbered in fear; knowing that she had no doubt gone off on some mad plot to save them all. The rest of him screamed in rage, warring against his fear and worry, shrieking that she had stolen it – that she had taken it – that she had betrayed him. Torn apart, his soul bleeding and weeping, Ger’alin lay on his back and watched the sky pass overhead, wishing he were dead. His brow furrowed in irritation when Callie draped a cloth over his eyes. He wanted the sun to blind him. Maybe then he wouldn’t be able to see himself strangling his wife, her face turning red then white as his fingers closed over her throat. He could still feel the skin of her neck rubbing against the palms of his hands. He shuddered, wishing he could find the strength to tear the cloth away; now he could see himself standing over her, his foot drawn back, ready to kick her the way he used to kick his toy ball when he was a child. He thanked the Light that Zerith had come in when he had. He wished the man had been earlier; he wished the man had never married them. He growled in his throat and tried to shut his ears 254

so he wouldn’t hear Callie and the priest speaking about one he no longer had any right to worry over.

“The last time he got like this, I had to dribble water between his lips. He went a week and a half with only water and soup to sustain him,” the Forsaken was saying. “I’ll tell you, no one can get in a funk like Gerry. It was back when he thought Alayne was dead. The whole first six months, whenever the month anniversary would roll around, he’d stay in his blankets and refuse to get up, refuse to move.”

“He can’t go so long without nourishment now,” Zerith muttered distractedly, his mind centered on trying to figure out what his sister might be up to.

“I know,” Callie sighed fretfully, “he’s practically skin and bones now. Cheer up, Gerry; I’m sure Alayne’s fine. She must have just gone to the naaru ahead of us. Though, how that junk got mixed in with everyone’s food is beyond me. I haven’t slept like that in over a decade.”

“You didn’t tell her,” Ger’alin said flatly. Taking a deep breath, he blew hard, dislodging the cloth so he could stare at the sky until the Light seared his eyes out for what he had done.

“I told her what I told everyone,” Zerith said pleasantly, “somehow some herbs usually reserved for sedating people got mixed in with the herbs used to spice the stew. It’s not so unusual when you think about how much lotus the orcs like to use. Dreamfoil looks a lot like it, after all. Why, Ger’alin, do you know something about it?”

“You didn’t tell her the truth,” he returned, his voice still flat and lifeless.

“Gerry, you’re sick,” Callie said kindly, reaching down and placing the cloth back over his eyes. “Zerith told me that the mix-up has you paralyzed for a while so I’ll thank you to stop trying to blind yourself. Alayne’s not dead. She just went off to Shattrath ahead of us.”

“Zerith, it is not nice to lie to your friends.”

“Who’s lying?” the priest said, beginning to sound annoyed.

“What is going on here?” the Forsaken muttered, suspicious. She began eyeing Zerith thoughtfully, suddenly wondering if his story about Alayne going off to Shattrath ahead of everyone was true. She found it hard to believe that Zerith would lie to her. She also found it hard to believe Ger’alin would lie either.

“Nothing,” Zerith said. “Callie, let me have a little man-to-man chat with my brotherby-marriage, would you?”

“Oh no you don’t, priest,” Ger’alin muttered, blowing the cloth away again. “Quit putting that back, damn you!” he growled at Callie, baring his teeth when she moved to replace it again, “Let me go blind! Maybe then I won’t see…won’t see…”

“Callie, go to Dar’ja,” Zerith said quietly.

“Won’t see what?” Callie asked, ignoring the priest.

“My hands on her throat; my foot going back to kick her in the ribs; my fist smashing across her face! I’ve become a monster; that’s why she’s left!”

“Gerry, you have obviously had a bad dream or something,” Callie muttered breathlessly. “You’ve been ill, I know. You haven’t been yourself since Illidan…well, I know you’d never hurt Alayne. You’d cut off your foot before you’d do anything like that. What you are doing is sulking because she ran off without you for a few hours and she didn’t tell you exactly where she was going.”

“Zerith, what nonsense have you filled Callie’s head with?”

“He’s not filled my head with anything. I know you, Gerry. You’d never do anything like what you said you did. You’re just…confused like Alayne used to get, remember?”

“Stop mentioning her name! I did what I did, Callie! If Zerith hadn’t run in when he had, I’d have killed her! All because she wouldn’t do what I wanted her to. All because she 255

was keeping that power, that joy from me, damn her! And damn me for damning her!” he raved, tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “I hate her! And I love her! Light blind me and send me to the Nether to rot! As much as I love her, that much do I hate her!” he screamed in Thalassian. “How could she? How could I?” Zerith reached out and, muttering one of the few arcane spells he knew, covered the man’s staring eyes with his hand. He had to strain, concentrating hard enough to make beads of sweat pop out on his forehead, to force the magic on the elf. After a few moments, though, Ger’alin dropped into a deep sleep, his face still ravaged with grief, anger, and gnawing guilt.

“He didn’t, did he?” Callie asked, seeking reassurance that the normally gentle and genteel giant she called her best friend was just confused.

“Light help me,” Zerith sighed, wiping the sweat away, “he did. I didn’t want you to find out, Callie, because he’s…ill. Otherwise, he’d never have dreamed of so much as raising his voice to Alayne, let alone his hand.”

“He…she’s not going to be waiting for us in Shattrath, then,” Callie said, shying away from the thought of her friend hurting his wife.

“No. Actually, she attacked Shattrath and stole the Vial that was stored there. I honestly don’t know what she’s up to. Her notes – she left one for he and I,” he sighed, gesturing towards the sleeping Ger’alin, “and another in Shattrath – don’t give much in the way of clues. All I can think is she’s hiding somewhere, desperately trying to use one Vial to lift the enchantment on the other or find a way to use both to reverse his transformation. Not that there is much hope of that…I’ve never seen a case this far advanced turn back.”

“A case of what?” Callie said, bracing herself.

Zerith clucked his tongue in irritation. He hadn’t meant to say that bit out loud. Seeing the look on the Forsaken’s face, he decided to tell her the truth, as difficult as it was even for him. “We’re…you’ve heard that elves are addicted to magic, haven’t you?” She nodded. “Do you know what that means?” Callie shook her head. Zerith sighed and tried to find a way to explain it. “For all of my childhood and youth, the Sunwell was there. It was like a bright sun shining out of the corner of my eye. I could feel it no matter where I was. It warmed me, spiritually. It did that for all of us. Some of us more than others,” he said sadly, thinking of his sisters and of Alayne. “At any rate, every sin’dorei was dependent on it as a source of strength, of power. That…dependency became apparent only after the Sunwell was destroyed. Many died; they couldn’t survive without that glow there.”

“What does that have to do with Ger’alin? He’s no magi,” Callie interrupted.

“I’m getting to that,” Zerith said gently. “He may not be a magi like Alayne was or like my sisters, Light bless their memories, were. Still, all of us are addicted. All of us suffered from the loss. All of us now have to…feed on certain free-floating energies that, while not being as pure as what we grew up on, are enough to sustain us, to keep us from…devolving.”

“Devolving? Well, never mind about that,” Callie muttered, confused. “What does that have to do with Gerry?”

“Ger’alin’s addiction has reared its head. He told me, finally, that Illidan had suffused him with enough arcane energy from the Vial to power our civilization for a few millennia. To take in so much energy in so short a timeframe…well, it’s made him hunger for more. He can’t get enough of what he craves, so he pulls from sources that are…less than ideal. Alayne could give you a better explanation – provided you could convince her to talk about it at all – understand, it’s not something we discuss often, especially not with…those who don’t share our weakness. At any rate, his addiction, his hunger, is slowly starving him to death. Unless he finds a way to control it or satisfy it, he’ll continue to regress until all that’s left of him is a shell of the man he was and the gnawing, mindless need to feed.”

256

Callie lowered her head, her heart heavy, “Do you think Alayne will come back before…before it’s over? I know you said he hurt her but, Zerith, he loves her beyond all reason! I remember the days after she vanished the first time,” she shuddered, recalling how Ger’alin had drunk himself near the point of death to try to drown the pain in his heart.

“As much as he loves her, that’s how much he hates her right now,” Zerith quoted the man’s earlier words. “It’s taking control of him. The fact that she spirited away what he believes is his only hope of survival is tearing him apart – as if the mere fact of what he did to her wouldn’t be enough guilt to drive him mad. Still,” Zerith sighed, wondering how he could dare feel this desperate hope, “either she’ll find an answer and return or she won’t and he’ll fade away until he can’t recall his guilt. It’s a small mercy but…we sin’dorei have had few mercies granted us since Medivh made the Dark Portal. Though…since she left with the Vials last night, he’s been speaking more clearly and making more sense than he had the four days she was gone to the Black Temple. Maybe we’re being granted more than a small mercy.”

“Or maybe it’s just the calm before the storm,” Callie said mournfully. “Sometimes when I think about what has happened to us – all the inhabitants of Lordaeron – I wonder if the Light shines at all.”

“It shines,” Zerith said firmly. “Without it, we could not see the shadow. Come on,” he gestured, seeing the spires of Shattrath rising above the hill in the distance. “Let us hope that the Light will provide peace in the City of Light.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral craned his neck and tried to see if he could find the woman mixed in the crowd. The Vindicators stood, blocking off the road into the city, prepared to bludgeon to death any of the Disorder of Azeroth who drew so much as a displeasing breath. Tensions were running high in the city and tempers had flared more than once since word got out that Alayne had stolen the Vial. He’d already had to punch some night elf in the jaw just to get the man to stop screaming in his face. “Zerith!” he called out, seeing the priest. A pair of Vindicators glared at him but the warlock ignored them, trying to find a way through their barricade and to the others. “Zerith, is she with you?”

“No, Jez’ral, she’s not,” Zerith called back to the warlock. “I don’t know where she is.”

“He’s lying,” Jez’ral heard a human mutter. “I heard that she’s working for that group and they’re trying to out-do old Kael. Blasted elves.”

“Garithos should have killed the lot of them,” another human said, his voice intended to reach Jez’ral’s pointed ears. “They’re traitors, every last one of them!” Jez’ral forced himself to ignore them, they’d been trying to goad every last sin’dorei into starting a fight since before he’d woken up. Shoving his way through the barricade, offering apologies to the draenei he’d nearly knocked over, he hurried over to see why the Disorder of Azeroth was entering Shattrath largely by cart and litter.

“What happened?” he whispered to the Forsaken he remembered as being one of Alayne’s close friends.

“She drugged us. The whole lot of us,” the Forsaken sighed. Then, her face split in a sudden grin. “I’ll admit, that was the best prank ever. Too bad it was done out of desperation and not for humor.”

“Any clue where she might have gone?” he whispered.

The woman shook her head. “Zerith thinks maybe she may have let something slip while she was here. He wants to talk with whoever it was guarding the room; apparently she knocked him out.”

257

“That would be me,” Jez’ral muttered wryly, “and, aside from knocking me out, she said nothing about where she might be going or what she might be doing. Do you know why she…did what she did?” Callie gave a guilty start and shot the man a side-long glance.

Finally, with much huffing and indecision, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the cart where Ger’alin lay. Zerith had covered the man’s face with his blanket, tucking the ends behind his head so he couldn’t blow it away should the sleep spell fail. Jez’ral’s eyes widened, fearing the worst. “Oh no,” he groaned, “Alayne must be out of her mind with grief over his death.”

“Death?” Callie said, taken aback. “He’s not dead! He’s sleeping. Zerith had to cover his head so that he wouldn’t blind himself looking at the sun should he wake up. It’s a long story that begins with ‘Ger’alin can throw one hell of a sulk.’” Reaching down, she pulled the blanket back to reveal the Blood Knight’s gaunt, emaciated features. Jez’ral recoiled in horror. “It’s some sickness Zerith says happens to your people.”

“I’m not aware of any illness like that,” Jez’ral muttered, “but then, the things I don’t remember could fill a library. How long until he’s well? Or did Alayne go off to find a cure?

Is that why she attacked? I remember that she can get…well, reckless is putting it mildly…when someone she cares about is in danger.” For a moment, he grinned, lost in thought, “Mir’el said he’d have to find her a husband strong enough to keep her from worrying. Said she was so much like Tal’ar in being overprotective that it wasn’t funny. He nearly soiled himself when he found out I’d let her take the first trials alone. Never mind that our Order’s rules are quite clear on that; he bit me over it,” he muttered, lifting a hand to rub his neck.

“As interesting as hearing that story was the first time,” Callie said slowly, “what Zerith is going to want to know is if anyone has seen sign of her. How did she manage to break in to the vault or whatever it was to begin with?” the rogue wondered aloud. “Magic locks stop just about everyone,” with a sigh, Callie tucked the blanket back around Ger’alin’s head and nodded for the cart driver to continue on into the structure housing the naaru. Zerith had vanished into its looming shade, desperate to try to plead his case to the naaru as well as praying that one of the beings would have some inkling what Alayne might be up to.

“Oh, that? She blasted right through the wall on the side of the warding. A situation we have since remedied. Still…why would she attack…? Ach. So much I don’t remember that I wish I could because maybe then I could help you find that little girl if she’s run off.”

“You’re really worried about her.”

“Of course I am!” he snapped. “I remember when she was still a toddler. She makes me think of the times before the wars, of the times when my only concern was keeping stock on the shelves and making certain Mir’el didn’t do anything too stupid. She reminds me of my own youth. Besides, I’ve had those blasted children she met begging me to tell them when she’ll be back. I told them ‘soon’ but I don’t know how happy they’ll be to find out ‘soon’ may mean ‘never.’ Speaking of children, what are you doing here?” he growled at a little girl who was wriggling through the crowd, the adults’ legs making a forest for her to hide in.

“Hi Mister Jez’ral. Miss Alayne said her friends might be back today. Are those them?” she asked, pointing to the crowds still being carted in. “They’re all sleeping! I wonder why.”

“You spoke with Alayne?” Jez’ral muttered, sounding doubtful. “Little girl, when?”

“Last night, before the dragon attacked,” Sar’la said, standing on her tiptoes and trying to see if she could spot her idol. “I saw her in Lower City. She told me she’d come to warn everyone and fight that dragon off. She asked me to look after two of her friends, Zerith and Ger’alin. She said she would come for me when it was over but she never did. She’s not hurt, is she?”

258

“You spoke with her last night?” Jez’ral repeated, sounding as if he were choking.

“Yes. What’s the matter with you?” Sar’la said, spotting Callie and speaking with the forthright innocence of childhood. “Are you sick, too? She said one of her friends had been really sick but that he was a boy.”

“I’m sick but it’s not catching,” Callie laughed. “And, I suppose she was talking about Ger’alin being sick?” the orphan nodded. “He is very sick. Did Alayne sound worried about him? Did she say where she was going or if she would be coming from some place to get you?”

“No. She just told me to get someplace safe and stay there until the dragon was gone.

Me and my friends hid in the attic of our orphanage. I could see the fighting. I’ll bet Alayne was the one who hit that dragon a good one with a firebolt! After that, the dragon flew away and all of the soldiers got on their horses and hawks and elekks and chased it to the end of the world. I’ll bet that’s where she is! She’s probably down there making sure that old dragon doesn’t come back ever.”

Callie and Jez’ral exchanged glances over the girl’s head. Sar’la continued to crane her neck, going on tiptoe, trying to see if she could find Alayne. Standing on either side of the orphan, the adults grabbed hold of her arms and, nodding to each other, began half-escorting, half-dragging the child into the main structure. Zerith had already ducked inside and was making his report to A’dal. As the warlock and the rogue dragged the protesting and awestruck girl over to him, he glanced up at them in irritation, wondering just what was going on now and why it couldn’t wait until he’d at least had time to take in all that had already come to pass. “I’ve no time for games, Callie,” he growled.

“Zerith, this girl talked with Alayne the night she attacked Shattrath,” Callie interrupted quickly.

“Miss Alayne didn’t attack us! She fought off the dragon!” Sar’la shouted angrily, twisting and trying to pull her arms out of the adults’ grips. “She’s brave and powerful and pretty and I want to be just like her when I grow up! Tell them, A’dal! Tell them that she didn’t do what they just said and that it’s not nice to say untrue things!” Hovering above their heads, the being of light sent down crystalline chimes that calmed and soothed, but said nothing. “She wouldn’t!” Sar’la protested, her defiance fading. “She wouldn’t. She’s not a bad person!”

“No one said she was, child,” Zerith said calmly. “We’re trying to figure out why she did what she did. Callie here says that you talked with Alayne that night.” Sar’la nodded her head. Zerith knelt down so he was on eye-level with the girl and then glanced up, requesting with a gaze that they let go of her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he tried to make his face warm and friendly. “Tell us about that night. It’s important,” he added. “If you have any idea where Alayne might have gone; if she told you anything at all, we need to know. She could be in danger.” Callie’s head jerked up at that and she glanced over her shoulder at the naaru.

“She…she was upset about something,” Sar’la said, the words spilling out of her. “I could see from the way she jumped at everything that she was scared. That made me a little scared too but I thought maybe it was just the dark? Then I ran up to her and she told me the dragon was going to attack and I needed to get somewhere safe and hide until it was over.

She asked me to look after two of her friends, Zerith and Ger’alin. Then, she sent me back to the orphanage while she went up to fight the dragon.”

“She asked you to look after us?” Zerith said, surprised. Sar’la nodded, her lower lip quavering and a tear trickling past her nose.

“She said Ger’alin had been very sick and needed us to make him laugh a lot. Then she was gone. She didn’t attack our city! She couldn’t! She let me ride her magic horse! She told me she’d teach me about magic when I got older! She couldn’t have done anything bad!

Not Miss Alayne!” Sar’la sobbed. “Not her! She’s my friend!”

259

Callie bit her own lip to keep from crying and Jez’ral looked stricken. He’d known that the orphans had taken a shine to his former student but he’d had no idea just how much they’d come to idolize her. Zerith had covered his own eyes with his hand, trying to sort out what he had heard, trying to make sense of it, trying to find some secret, hidden message his sister might have left. With a sigh, he stood up. There was nothing. She had taken the Vial and vanished. “A’dal,” he said, having to pause to clear his throat, his voice breaking, “A’dal, one of our own lies stricken with an illness that we cannot hope to cure. After what my sister did here, I know I have no right to ask this, but could you give him ease?”

“Your sister did nothing that would rebound on you or those who follow you,” A’dal’s gentle chimes rang across Zerith’s mind. “She did only what she believed she had to do. Right or wrong, for good or for ill – that has not yet played out. Only time and the Light will tell. Bring Ger’alin to me. If the Light wills, he will be restored. If the Light does not will…I can give him peace.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith lifted a hand and wiped the tears from his eyes before the others could see them. He could sense the healing energies from A’dal cease their flow and could tell that, whatever the naaru had done, it had not been enough. Ger’alin still lay, staring blindly at the ceiling, his entire body clenched. He responded to nothing. Callie had given over trying to pull him out of his sulk the day before. “Damn them for telling him,” the priest muttered. “If only he thought she was just hiding still.” The Blood Knight had grown more despondent and less responsive since learning that, not only had Alayne attacked Shattrath and not only did she stand a good chance of being executed should she show back up, she also had a price on her head from the Ashtongue Deathsworn, the Aldor, the Scryers, and the Mag’har – in spite of Garrosh’s best efforts to explain her momentary insanity. The priest himself still found it hard to believe just how quickly everyone had turned on his sister. Only the Forsaken seemed to have relented, and even then, some of them seemed more than happy that she was not numbered among the Disorder of Azeroth any longer.

“He resists it still,” A’dal chimed sadly. “His body has been healed. It is his spirit, his mind, his will that resists the peace we offer. Unless he accepts of his own free will, he will continue to wither, continue to suffer from his addiction, until it kills him.”

Zerith slammed a fist against the wall, feeling a moment of satisfaction when he felt the wall shiver and saw a crack form in the plaster. He stared at his bloody knuckles and swelling fingers in fascination; he was so angry, he felt no pain. “There’s nothing left for it but to go out and find her, is there?” he asked rhetorically.

“Alayne alone is not the only reason he holds back,” A’dal rang. “Though, his love for her, his fear for her, his repulsion at what he did – all those do have their part. The decision to search her out, to bring her here, is yours to make, mortal priest. Know that, should you seek to do this, you may find answers you do not want.”

“And you have no idea where she might be hiding?” Zerith asked dryly. “That’s one answer I know I would want.” The naaru remained depressingly silent. Zerith sighed. He was beginning to believe that A’dal knew far more than the naaru would reveal. He just wondered why the being, if he were so powerful and so wise, was leaving the elf to flounder about, lost in confusion over what to do next.

“Why won’t you just tell us out straight?” Jez’ral pleaded. “He’s dying, A’dal! She could be dying too, for all we know! And you hover there, knowing something that could help us, refusing to tell us! Why?”

260

“If the naaru told us everything they knew,” Callie said, her voice sounding loud in the silence, “if they made all of the decisions for us, they’d be no better than the Legion they oppose.”

“That’s foolish,” Dar’ja muttered irritably. Callie opened her mouth to reply in kind but soothing chimes from A’dal halted her sarcastic words.

“The undead speaks wisely, as one who knows from experience what it is to have your decisions made for you,” the naaru answered. “But, we do not know exactly where Alayne may be hiding. We have our suspicions, but that is all they are – idle speculation.

Sharing them would serve no purpose and would, perhaps, cause great harm.”

“Can you at least tell us if going out and looking for her would do any good?” Zerith asked. He shook his hand, drops of blood sprinkling the wall and his robes. Dar’ja took his broken and bleeding hand in her own hands and wove the healing energies through it. Zerith thanked her with a loving look, waiting for A’dal to reply.

“Tell us where she is!” Jez’ral demanded, his eyes bright with tears of begging. “The shades of her parents will never forgive me if anything happens to that child! Mir’el will kill me! I would never be able to look myself in the mirror again! I still have nightmares about what might have happened to her the night of her Trials!”

“She remains in Outland,” A’dal answered. “But the journey to find her is yours to make. The answers to her questions are yours to find. It is your destiny to find her, to confront her, and to return to her again.”

“What under the Light does that mean?” Zerith asked. He ground his teeth when the naaru remained silent. “We’ll go,” he said at last. “Will you look after Ger’alin while we try to find his wife? Try to figure out a way to sneak her back to him that won’t get her killed?”

Silver chimes tinkled across their minds, giving affirmation and a measure of peace in the decision made. “Let’s get back to the others,” the priest said to his friends. “I need to make arrangements for our failure – and for our success.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith watched as the other two peeled off, leading their horses towards Hellfire Peninsula. Having no clear idea of where Alayne might have headed, they had decided to go over ground they knew to see if they could find her there. Zerith felt that was the most likely way to find her. “After all,” he said to himself, “she sounded as if she knew exactly where she was going to ‘study the Vials at her leisure.’”

“You’ve said that so often,” Dar’ja chimed in, “that I’m beginning to wonder if you really believe it, or if you’re just trying to convince yourself that it’s true.”

“Either it’s true or it’s not,” he said, smiling sadly. “I estimate three days to explore both Hellfire Peninsula and Zangarmarsh. Hopefully, within three days, we’ll be sneaking her into Shattrath. If not, we’ll need another two days to explore Nagrand. The Aldor and Scryers are watching every inch of Terokkar so, if she’s hiding there, they will flush her out. Same for Shadowmoon Valley. The naaru have sent agents to Akama. Between the forces of Shattrath and the Ashtongue Deathsworn, if she’s in Shadowmoon, someone will find her.”

“Honestly, I think we’ll find her in the caves where we slew Vashj,” Dar’ja muttered.

“If I were doing what we think she might be doing, that’s where I’d go.”

“I agree,” her husband grinned. “Which is why we’ll be checking there first. After that, well, there’s a lot of Zangarmarsh we missed the first time around what with the naga.

Alayne had a chance to see some of it when she was running from Ger’alin that morning,” he continued, his voice catching. Had it really been less than a month ago that she and Ger’alin had turned the tricks around on everyone? “It seems like it’s been a lifetime,” he sighed.

261

Dar’ja reached over and patted his knee fondly, knowing he was thinking about the day Alayne and Ger’alin had discovered what the rest of them had known for some time.

“Once it’s all over,” she said, “we’ll bring them back here. Then, at night, when they are not sleeping, we’ll toss itchweed into their blankets and then head for the hills.”

“Have I told you I love you today?” he laughed. “Because I do. We’ll do that. Now, come on,” he sighed, turning serious. “We’re going to have to get out to the middle of the lake and swim down that pipe to see if she’s hiding there. Don’t worry,” he added softly. “I won’t rock the boat or mention food.” ~*~*~*~ “I hate caves,” Dar’ja whispered, wincing when even her softest words seemed to echo back to her loudly in the vast emptiness.

“Considering you’ve said that at least forty-seven times in the past hour,” Zerith said absently, “I think you can assume I know that.”

“I just feel like someone’s watching us. Like we’re trapped and we’re never going to get out of here,” she muttered, reaching out and taking his hand, seeking comfort. Zerith continued to study the cavern, twitching an ear whenever he though he heard voices or footfalls. He reached back to his wife, putting an arm around her and patting her on the shoulder, knowing that she disliked being underground. “We’ll be out of here in a bit,” he promised. The pair crept quietly over the bridges, headed first towards Vashj’s chambers. As they neared the final bridge, Zerith stopped and cupped a hand over his ear. “I swear I hear pick-axes against stone,” he muttered. “This cave is getting to me, too.”

“It’s getting to both of us because I hear it as well,” Dar’ja whispered. “Down that way, where we freed the Broken the first time we were here.”

“We’ll check it out in a bit,” he promised. “For now, I want to see if she’s been here,” he said, pointing to the room ahead. “Because it’s obvious that someone has been.”

Vashj’s corpse had been dragged away from where they had left it. Zerith wondered if the druids had set it to pyre in spite of their hatred for the woman she once had been. The room itself had been stripped bare; all of the books, scrolls, and personal effects removed.

“The druids mentioned nothing of this,” he said to Dar’ja, gesturing around the empty room.

Even the tapestries had been torn down and taken away.

“They were closed-mouthed when we passed through the Refuge. I wonder what is going on.”

“We’re obviously not going to find anything here,” the priest sighed. “Let’s go see what that noise was.”

Creeping back out of the room, keeping to the shadows and being careful not to make any sound, Zerith and Dar’ja picked their way back across the cave and down into the water.

Swimming, keeping their arms and legs beneath the water and pulling themselves across the pool silently, they scrambled up the rocky ledge and took the path that would lead them into the former slaves’ pens. A little over an hour later, the couple was catching their breath and staring, wide-eyed, as sin’dorei and demons lashed out at new slaves. Numbered among the slaves were mostly Broken and ogres. The odd sin’dorei or troll stood out starkly against the rest, their backs no more or less lacerated than the other slaves’. Zerith’s stomach clenched and he felt as if he might be sick as he watched free-roaming demons lash out, their whips cracking against the backs of the workers.

“Keep up the pace, you rats!” one of the slave-drivers shouted, her voice clear and bell-like. “King Sunstrider’s plans will not be delayed for your slacking!” Dar’ja and Zerith exchanged glances, wondering just what their ‘king’ was plotting. Scooting closer to the edge, careful to keep low and quiet, they strained their ears to try to hear more.

262

“I hate these squalid caves,” one of the sin’dorei whip-handlers muttered to his partner, the shouter. “They’re so dank and dreary. It’s even worse now that we had to send all of that overgrown snake’s possessions back to Tempest Keep. Why couldn’t that newling keep her trap shut?”

“If you hadn’t been so eager, we wouldn’t have lost our posting at Duro to her. Now, try not to get us in trouble here. If we get sent any further away from the action, we’ll be standing back in Quel’Thalas twiddling our thumbs.”

“Rumor has it we’ll all be going back soon enough,” the man muttered. “Today couldn’t be too soon for me.”

“Listening to rumor is what got you sent out here. Listening to you is what got me out here,” the woman said wryly. “Come on. Ran’ma and Je’ila should be coming up for their shift shortly. I know I could use a warm cup of spiced wine and a few hours off my feet.

Getting these brutes to work takes a lot out of me.”

“Aye, I know,” he laughed. “You there, that axe is for working with, not lounging about! Do you want to feel the heat of my wrath again, scum? Good! Put your back into it!

Please our king and you’ll find a merciful end to your sufferings!” he shouted. Pitching his voice back to normal, he continued, “They grow more sullen with each day. I swear, sometimes I wonder if it was worth rooting the druids out of here. Surely King Sunstrider could find a better way than relying on these infernal gnomish devices.”

“Don’t speak so of our king,” the woman hissed. “He knows well enough that the mongrel was right. Whosoever controls the waters, controls Outland. Besides, the sooner we finish here, the sooner we can all go home and return our lands to their rightful glory.”

Zerith and Dar’ja listened for a few moments more before carefully pushing themselves away. Thinking over what they had heard, Zerith began wondering if searching for his sister was the best use of his time right now. He knew it was selfish that he should be so concerned with Ger’alin and Alayne – to the point of almost no longer caring what Kael did – but he couldn’t help how he felt. Still, duty tugged at him. As he helped Dar’ja off the rocky wall and stood, his back to the water they would have to swim across, he sighed. “What do you think?” he asked, pointing back the way they had come.

“I think that we’d better consider sending the Disorder of Azeroth to help the druids clean out these caves again. Though how the Horde, Alliance, and the Circle lost control of them once – after we handed them over to them! – is beyond me.”

“Overstretch, no doubt,” Zerith muttered. “Their forces were already spread thin before we got here. Perhaps our antics have not been as great a help as they should have been.

After all, we’ve kept the Mag’har and the Dragonmaw to ourselves.”

“Oh, don’t start blaming yourself,” she sighed, turning to glance back up the same direction as her husband.

Zerith started to nod in agreement when he felt strong arms reach around him and a firm hand clap over his mouth. Next to him, he could see Dar’ja struggling against her own captor, squirming silently in a strong grasp. The priest tried to free himself, fearing the same kind of torment that had broken the Blood Knight. Careful of the sound, fearful of capture, wondering what was going on, Zerith and Dar’ja struggled to free themselves. Still, the clutches of their captors held fast, preventing them from fleeing or fighting. Zerith felt himself being dragged back towards the water. Careless now of the noise, he kicked and made strangled groans against the hand pressed firm against his mouth. His eyes widened in shock as he felt the water rushing over him. He wondered if there would be anything left for the druids to find and show to his sister, should she still be alive. ~*~*~*~

263

“He’s coming around,” a harsh voice muttered. Zerith coughed and felt salt water dripping out of his mouth and nose. He sucked in great gulps of air, thankful to be alive.

“Dar’ja!” he demanded.

“She’s fine, priest,” a familiar voice said flatly. “What were you two doing here?”

“Dar’ja!” he said again, his voice a feral growl. Struggling against the bonds that held his hands behind his back, Zerith pushed himself onto his stomach, sighing with relief when he saw Dar’ja, tied up as he was, sleeping. “Who are you?” he demanded of his captors.

“What were you doing in the cavern?” the other demanded back.

“That’s none of your concern,” Zerith snapped, twisting himself around and looking for the speaker. At first, he saw nothing. Then, squinting, he could see a shape squatting in the shadows of the room. Golden eyes glowered at him. “You’re a druid,” he muttered. “Why are you holding us like this? We’re friends with the Cenarion Circle.”

“I don’t trust you blood-borne fools,” the night elf spat. “I trust you and that so-called sister of yours even less.”

“Var’thanos,” another night elven voice said warningly.

“What were you doing in that cavern?” he demanded again, ignoring his companion.

“We were trying to see what was going on,” Zerith said angrily.

“I find it hard to believe you wouldn’t know what your own people have done in the past week.”

“I follow Kael’thas no longer! I have sworn my allegiance to the naaru and to the Light! I will have nothing to do with one who has allied himself with the Legion!” Zerith shouted, forgetting for a moment where he was. When his words echoed back to him, he winced, praying they had been dragged far away from where he had seen and heard the sin’dorei slave drivers.

“Why then did you steal the Vial from those the naaru had entrusted it to?”

“We didn’t have anything to do with that,” Dar’ja said sleepily. Zerith turned, overjoyed to see that his wife was well. “Alayne went off on her own hook. We’re out here looking for her.”

“That witch is not in these caverns, more’s the pity,” Var’thanos muttered. “I have been watching for her ever since we heard that she was behind the attack on Shattrath. Why the naaru did not kill her for her transgression of the peace is beyond me.”

“What do you know of your prince’s plans?” his companion asked, stepping out of the shadows. Squatting down, she hovered over Zerith, her presence formidable but not threatening. “You claim to have come here seeking the one who stole the Vial; why here? It seems rather convenient.”

“I believed she might have come looking for information from Lady Vashj’s personal texts. When we searched the Black Temple, we found much information about the nature of the magic in the Vials. When we saw that Vashj’s chamber had been stripped…”

“Kael’s forces looted it.”

“When we saw that,” he continued, ignoring the interruption, “we figured that, if she had been here, she wasn’t any longer. It looks as if we’ll have to search the rest of the blasted swamp for signs of her,” he sighed. “I wish I knew where she was and what she was doing!

At any rate, after we saw that Vashj’s chamber was bare, we decided to see who was here; that’s why we were spying on Kael’s forces. Tell me, if you have been watching for my sister for days, why have you allowed Kael’s forces to retake these caverns? We cleared the naga out of them for you; we handed them over to the joint forces of the Horde, Alliance, and the Circle. Why have you let the hard work we did – the sacrifices we made – go for naught?” he demanded, his voice hot with anger.

“We did not just let them walk in and take these caverns on a whim,” Var’thanos argued. “The Circle set guardians and warders to keep out all intruders. Our allies, the 264

gnomes, were setting up a settlement for their kind among the machines; they had agreed to oversee the division of water and maintain those devices that provide this ‘steam power’ they mentioned being used to control ‘dams’ and ‘levies.’ I don’t pretend to understand,” he sighed. “But, a little over a week ago, we noticed that the amount of water we’d been getting had been dwindling. Consulting with Zabra’jin and Telredor, we learned they also were suffering from shortages. Our first forays back into these caverns were unsuccessful; Kael’s forces must have captured them. I believe they may be numbered among the slaves.”

“Why would Kael’s forces want control of the waters of Zangarmarsh?” Dar’ja wondered aloud.

“The gnomes believe…” Var’thanos began, eyeing the sin’dorei warily. His companion sighed and took over.

“The gnomes believe that some of the pipes carry water to some operation in Netherstorm. They mentioned that some kind of energy had increased the last time we heard from them. Perhaps Kael is working on something and requires water. That is speculation, but it is all we have to go on until we can learn more.”

“The naaru should order an attack on Tempest Keep immediately,” Var’thanos muttered. His companion rolled her eyes. “He’s planning to summon the Legion!”

“The naaru will do as they will,” his companion said evenly. “They have stepped up plans for their outposts in the Netherstorm. Be patient, Var’thanos. Your balance is disrupted.” The man flushed an angry purple and stormed out of the cell. “He mistrusts all of your people,” she explained. “Try as we might to convince him that not all of you are evil, he harbors a hatred towards magi. When first I spotted you, I believed that, perhaps, you were merely agents of the Horde seeking to find a way to free the prisoners.”

“Had I the time and the means, I would,” Zerith said sincerely.

“The Circle has made its own plans to retake the caves. We will not ask you to risk yourselves to reclaim what we lost,” she sighed sadly. With a flick of her wrist, the night elf produced a knife. Pulling Zerith upright, she cut loose his bonds and then performed the same task for Dar’ja. “I will see you both out. Know that none who have the Vials have entered these caves. Of all people, Var’thanos and I would know if that Water had entered here.”

Zerith quirked his eyebrows in interest. “It is a long story,” she smiled. “Perhaps one day, when we have the time to discuss such things…but for now, I will see you to the surface.

Your prayers for the Circle’s success would be most welcome.”

“Should the Circle need assistance,” he offered. Dar’ja nodded, adding her offer. The druid shook her head.

“It is not necessary. You have proven yourselves to us already – regardless of how Var’thanos acts of late.”

“It may not be necessary,” Zerith agreed dryly, rubbing his wrists where the ropes had cut into them, “but we make the gesture all the same.”

“It is not me you need to convince, sin’dorei,” the woman replied. “Those who need it, will never be convinced,” she added softly, looking off the direction her companion had gone. “Come now. Let me lead you to the sunlight again. May Elune light your path, priest of the Light, and guide you to the one you seek.”

“May she guide us all to the answers, the wisdom, and the peace we pray for daily,” Dar’ja whispered as she and Zerith followed the woman out of the cell and up towards the light of day. ~*~*~*~ “Look, Zerith, there’s more of them,” Dar’ja whispered, pointing. “It is a path; I told you!”

265

“It looked like rock to me,” he sighed. “So, more of them. What do you want to do about it?” he muttered, gesturing towards the sin’dorei creeping along the mountain path out of Zangarmarsh.

“Follow them,” she replied. “Zerith, we’ve searched every inch of this swamp and found no sign of your sister. I’m beginning to doubt we’ll find her in Hellfire Peninsula or Nagrand. I know, I know, we’re supposed to be meeting Jez’ral and Callie at the Refuge later this afternoon to see how their search has gone. Still, we could follow this group into the mountains just to see what they are up to. Perhaps we’d learn something that would be useful to the druids.”

“Admit it, dearest,” he teased, “you just want to get out of this lovely dank, chill, creepy, humid swamp.”

“That too,” she grinned. “That too. Come on. We’ll keep far enough behind them to avoid being seen but close enough to keep track. It’s rock, Zerith; we’re not going to make a lot of noise sneaking over it and we can hide behind these dagger-like outcroppings if we need to.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, watching as the other elves rounded a bend in the path.

“We’ll follow them but only to the border. We are not going to leave Callie and Jez’ral to wonder what happened to us.”

Creeping behind the elves, they both tried to calm their irritation when all they overheard was banal, common bragging and swaggering. Dar’ja clasped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling. Zerith just shook his head and wondered if he had ever been so coarse and vulgar. When the conversation moved from women to weapons, the priest felt a pang, wishing Ger’alin were well and able to be there. The Blood Knight would have been amused – if not mortified; for all his talk, he could be more prudish than Alayne – and would have understood more about the arcane weaponry and tactics the soldiers were discussing.

Just when the priest was ready to signal his wife that they had heard enough of nothing, a runner burst onto the scene, staggering into the elves ahead of them, blinded by sweat and completely out of breath. The priest and the paladin hid themselves more deeply in the shadows of the spiky spines and listened to the runner’s report.

“Whoa there,” one of the soldiers muttered, catching the runner just before he fell to the ground. The other quickly unstopped his canteen and offered it to the shaking messenger.

The weary elf gulped down the water gratefully between gasps for breath and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What has you running like it’s the end of the world, Tosmi?”

“Disaster! Ultris! Completely overrun. All the forge-workers dead,” Tosmi said as he fought to catch his breath. “Production completely shut down. Duro is seeing the same problems. Nether beasts, mana eaters… Athanel’s dead. His assistant, Dawnrunner has done what she can but our prince needs every hand he can get.”

“We’ll run the rest of the way there,” the soldiers muttered. “Keep the water. The access tunnel is a quarter-mile southwest of the end of the pass. You know today’s passphrase?” The runner nodded and, taking a last swig of water, began loping back down the path. Zerith and Dar’ja kept themselves hidden, not daring to follow the soldiers now that they ran as fast as their legs would carry them north. Waiting until the runner must have been off the path, they sat silently, pondering what they had just overheard. When he was certain it was safe, Zerith stood up from the shadows and helped Dar’ja to her feet.

“What do you think of that?” he asked. “Sounds as if Kael has suffered a setback.”

“It does sound that way. I wonder if that means he’ll be increasing his attacks or decreasing them. And what was that ‘Ultris’ and ‘Duro’ they spoke of?”

“I don’t know,” Zerith said, shrugging and spreading his hands. “I remember hearing some of the Scryers mention the manaforges in Netherstorm. The only one whose name I can 266

recall is Ara. I wonder who that Dawnrunner they mentioned is. Alayne’s father was a Dawnrunner. She’s never mentioned having any cousins to me.”

“Zerith, when I was a child, you couldn’t range very far north or east of Suncrown Village without running into a Dawnrunner or Dawnstar. It’s not exactly an uncommon last name,” she chided. “I know you’re worried about Alayne, but she wouldn’t be mixed up in something involving Kael’thas. Come on,” she said more gently, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Her husband stared off towards the north, wishing he’d listened to the Magisters more and wishing he could cut himself in half and go both north and south. With a shake of his head, he glanced down at Dar’ja, kissed her palm, and nodded.

“We shouldn’t keep the others waiting,” he finished for her. Taking her arm in his, the pair began to walk quickly back to the Refuge, each pondering over what they had learned. ~*~*~*~ “Why will he not accept that which is freely offered?” the Aldorite priestess wondered to herself as she took her turn at caring for the sickly sin’dorei warrior. “And why does A’dal insist on us wasting so much of our time and energy on one who seems to have given up hope?”

“The naaru see far more than we ever will, Aliria,” a deep voice replied to her musings. “It is not for us to question them; merely to accept that they have divined a plan and our parts in healing this fighter are part of it.”

Sar’la listened to the adults speak from her hiding spot, not understanding all of the discussion and wishing they would talk about something interesting. Miss Alayne had asked her to look after that boy…well, man, really, she thought to herself…and the other one who was a priest. But the priest had gone off to look for Miss Alayne while the other man, Ger’alin, just lay in bed, sleeping. Waiting a while longer, the healers left the room, leaving Sar’la alone with the muttering man.

“Alayne, no,” he moaned in his sleep. “Don’t go there. Stay. Wait! Stop, please!” he groaned.

“Hey, Mister Ger’alin,” Sar’la muttered, reaching over and shaking the man gently.

He barely moved though she tugged and pushed with all her might. “Wake up. Miss Alayne’s not here. You’re having a bad dream.”

“No! NO!” he shouted, sitting bolt upright in the bed. Sar’la had a firm grip on his shoulder when he jerked upright, pulling her off the ground and making her tumble onto his cot. “Who the devil…?” he asked, blinking.

“Miss Alayne asked me to watch you,” Sar’la said quickly. Ger’alin scowled. “She said you were sick and needed someone to make you laugh.”

“Little girl, get out of here before I hurt you,” he growled. “I’ll do it. I’m a monster!”

“No, you aren’t,” she giggled. “You’re an elf.”

“Just go away!” he groaned, tugging the sheets back over his head and slamming back into the cot. His violent jerking pulled the sheets taut, making Sar’la bounce and tumble from the cot.

“Ouch!” she said when she hit the floor. Ger’alin threw the sheets aside and tried to clamber out to help her up, guilt-stricken that he had hurt a child. “That was fun!” she laughed. “Can we do it again?”

“You’d better get out of here,” he sighed, collapsing on the floor at her feet, unable and unwilling to move. “I might hurt you for real next time.”

“No, you won’t. Besides, that was a fun game. Want me to try to bounce you off the bed this time? It was fun.”

267

“I don’t think you could do that if you wanted to, little girl,” he said wryly. “What are you doing in here?”

“I told you. Miss Alayne asked me to look after you. She’s my friend and I want to be just like her when I grow up so I’m going to do what she asked me to. Want to get up here and let me try to throw you off this bed? It’s fun!”

“I’m…not certain that’s a good idea, little girl. You should get out of here…”

“Sar’la,” she said simply.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s my name. Sar’la. Not ‘little girl.’ And, besides, you’re awake and talking now. You’ve been asleep and talking since you got here. Maybe that’s why Mr. Zerith went to Hellfire Peninsula. To get you something to make you wake up.”

“He left me here to die,” Ger’alin said bleakly.

“You’re not dying. You’re just sick is all,” Sar’la told him. “You’ll get better. I was sick once and I got better.”

“I’m not…”

“Sar’la, what are you doing here?” a woman’s scandalized voice called out from the doorway. “You know you’re not allowed out of Lower City without permission.”

“I made a promise to a friend to look after her friend,” the girl explained, gesturing to a confused-looking Ger’alin. “You said it’s important to keep our promises.”

“It’s also important for children to obey the adults who take care of them and to follow the rules,” the woman said sternly. “I apologize if she has disturbed your rest, sir.

Sar’la, come with me. We must let this man rest and recover from his illness.”

“I’ll come back to visit you again. Next time, I’ll bring my kitten. He can make you laugh,” she whispered confidently as she climbed off the cot. Ger’alin watched her go, feeling strangely comforted and sad. “Miss Alayne asked me to look over you,” she’d said.

Perhaps…despite everything…perhaps he could…

“No!” he told himself harshly, refusing to consider hope an option. “You are a monster! Die like the other Wretched, you miserable creature!” he growled to himself as he pulled the blankets back over his head and closed his eyes, praying for the final darkness to wash over him. “Next time, I’ll bring my kitten. He can make you smile,” he heard as he drifted back off to sleep and its dreams. ~*~*~*~ “Any sign of her?” Callie asked, shouting across the inn the minute she saw Zerith and Dar’ja duck in. Her heart pounded with hope; she’d risked a trip back to Shattrath and seen that, if anything, Ger’alin had grown worse in the few days they’d been gone.

“Anything?” she asked more quietly when the priest and his wife sat down at the table.

“No sign of Alayne,” Zerith muttered. “But Kael’s forces have retaken the caves where we fought the naga and killed Vashj. Also, we overheard something about a disaster at Ultris and problems at Duro. I have no idea what that means,” he added quickly, seeing the question in the Forsaken’s eyes. “But I’ve let the druids know that something is going on.”

“They lost the caves to Kael?” Callie said, her ire rising and her hand twitching towards one of her daggers. “After everything we did, they just…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zerith sighed. “They have a plan to take them back again.

One that, thankfully, doesn’t involve us. As much as I would love to lend our assistance, we have other priorities at the moment. Did you two find any sign of her?”

“No,” Callie replied, her face turning paler than normal. She licked her lips nervously.

“I don’t want to talk about what we did see.” Jez’ral shuddered and rose quickly from the

268

table, running out of the inn. Zerith could hear gagging noises and felt his own stomach turn in sympathy as the other man threw up. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“Pretty or not, it sounds important. What did you find that has both of you green around the gills?” Dar’ja demanded, steeling herself for bad news. Jez’ral staggered back to the table and collapsed, his legs turned to water.

“After speaking with Nazgrel, we were able to fan out and cover most of Hellfire Peninsula the first day,” Callie began. “Jez’ral and I searched the entire area around the Dark Portal and stopped to ask if Alayne had passed through. She hasn’t. A’dal was right about that. After we finished exploring the caves over by Zeth’gor and spoke with the orcs there, we headed back to Thrallmar to get some sleep. The next morning, we spoke with the Thrallmar forces that had ranged out on our behalf. Aside from ghosts and the odd hell boar, they found nothing. So…well…we know that demons would be attracted to the power she’s carrying around, right?” Callie asked, stalling, not wanting to discuss what came next.

“So…we borrowed a couple of wyverns from the roost and flew up to where Kazzak is. That demon is enormous,” she said, spreading her hands as far apart as they would go. “And, when you’re on that ledge with him, his roars are deafening. We could scarcely hear ourselves think.” She cut off when Jez’ral leapt back to his feet and raced back out of the inn, gagging and choking. “It was there that we saw….we saw…oh Light, excuse me,” she murmured, running outside to join the sin’dorei warlock. Zerith and Dar’ja exchanged glances, their eyes widening and their hearts pounding as they began to fear the worst. When the Forsaken stumbled back to the table moments later, both sin’dorei braced themselves to hear about Alayne’s death. What the rogue told them made both of their stomachs clench and begin roiling as fiercely as tempests.

“Up on the high ridge, where the Doom Lord Kazzak roams, we saw elves mingling with demons,” the Forsaken grimaced, scrubbing her mouth with her hand as it to remove a foul taste. “The elves were…welcomed. Tolerated, at least. The demons did not attack them.

We saw them…the elves…they…some of the demons opened their arms, dripping their blood into chalices. The elves…they drank it and…” Zerith held up a hand for silence. He clenched his fists, pressing them against the table as he tried to hold down his breakfast.

Dar’ja rushed outside to join Jez’ral. After long moments, Zerith slowed bitter bile and, taking a deep breath, stared up at the Forsaken, dumbfounded.

“Kael has his followers…,” he whispered, unable to continue. Callie nodded, knowing how he felt.

“That’s not the worst bit either,” the Forsaken said, tears springing to her eyes. “I think…I think Alayne may have run afoul of them. One or two mentioned something about a Vial from Illidan. Now, I know; Kael’thas was one of Illidan’s trusted lieutenants. So was Vashj. Maybe Kael had a Vial just like the snake-lady did. Or maybe…maybe when she ran off, Alayne was found out by some of Kael’s followers and they captured or killed her…”

“Light, I don’t want to think about it,” Zerith whispered, pressing fingers to his lips and closing his eyes. “She can’t be dead; she has to be captured or still wandering free. We can’t keep thinking the worst. We just can’t!”

“A saying among my people,” Callie muttered softly, quoting, “‘Hope for the best, prepare for the worst; that way, surprises are pleasant.’ At any rate,” she finished, “we need to return to Shattrath and pass this news on to the others. Maybe one of the Scryers can tell us if Kael already had a Vial. If so, we go over to Nagrand and then up to Blade’s Edge Mountains to find Alayne. If not…”

“If not, we head straight to Tempest Keep and make an end of it once and for all. For Alayne and for Ger’alin, the two latest casualties of my mad plan to assault the Black Temple,” Zerith growled, his voice thick with self-loathing.

269

~*~*~*~ Voren’thal settled himself on the stone bench outside of the Terrace of Light. Midday was well past; he could sit out in the sun, now, without having to worry about it searing instead of warming his bones. He leaned his head back, letting the warm, but still cool, stone of the building support it while he closed his eyes. Hopefully passers-by would think the old man was just taking one of the short naps common to those who had reached his advanced age. As he sought the peace that he’d found in serving the naaru, his thoughts turned to the young man lying in the sickroom. The naaru were no longer confident that the man would recover. Too much of his strength had been spent – thrown away – resisting their efforts.

Instead of staring sightlessly at the ceiling, Ger’alin slept. His sleep was deep but restless, no doubt plagued by the nightmares and terrors only a mind succumbing to despair could create.

He had not woken, had not moved, since the morning after his friends had departed to search out his wife. “Light, let her return before the end,” he muttered, setting aside his anger at the warlock who had violated the sanctuary of the city he’d come to call home. Settling back down, crossing his arms over his chest, Voren’thal sought the inner peace he’d learned to cherish after foreswearing his vows to Kael’thas and pledging allegiance to the naaru.

“The Light can hear you where ever you are, Voren’thal,” A’dal chided gently, his chimes sounding amused. “There is no need to go outside, into the sunlight, and make your prayers facing the star of the day.”

“I’m an old man, A’dal. Set in my ways. I’ll pray how I want,” he grumped. He and the naaru had had this discussion many times. “Still the same?”

“He sleeps still. We all pray he will awaken well in his body and mind. The choice is his.”

“And you still think we should let that wife of his just walk back in here if she wants to?” he asked. “That’s what I came out here to ponder over. Whether or not I should – or even could – keep the Vindicators, the druids, and my Magisters from killing her should she show her face back here again. Right now, that’s the only thing we and those blue brutes can agree on – that she ought to be punished and punished soundly.”

“She did as she was destined to do,” A’dal said, his chimes irritatingly reasonable.

“Now it is up to you and the others to do as you are called to do by the hand of fate.”

Voren’thal snorted elaborately.

“Would that you would speak more clearly,” he sighed. “I’m too old to waste time figuring out riddles and enigmas, A’dal.”

“We only ever…”

“Guide, you never command, direct, or dictate,” Voren’thal finished wryly. “I’ve heard that answer every single time I’ve complained. I’m sorry, old friend. I should be more patient like the Aldor but I burn for the chance to…”

“Your day is quickly approaching,” A’dal whispered softly. “Defend the bridge, Voren’thal.” The elder man scrambled off his bench, his heart pounding as he raced to the bridge, the words of spells to sear the attackers ready on his lips. Embarrassment flooded his face, heating his cheeks and making his eyes bulge when he saw only the denizens of Shattrath and its allies crossing the bridge. The elder gave himself a shake, ready to flay the naaru for this latest joke, when his eyes fell on a trio of sin’dorei and a Forsaken making their slow way over the path. The four looked as if they had been told the hour and the manner of their deaths and saw that day swiftly approaching.

“What news?” he demanded, striding up to the priest who led the Disorder of Azeroth. “Did you find your sister?”

Zerith blinked, taken aback. “How did you…”

270

“You live a few more centuries and then you can tell me how insulting it is to have a youngling try to pull a stunt like that right under your nose,” Voren’thal growled. “Your sister will never set foot back in the city she attacked and no order I give can make it otherwise. Now, did you find her? Or her corpse?”

“We found no sign of her,” Zerith replied, “and had we, I would not tell you, ally or no, liege lord or no. Instead, we learned that Kael has finally descended completely into madness. He has taken control of the underwater caverns of Zangarmarsh, staffing them with slaves again, draining water for some plot he has on-going in the Netherstorm. Dar’ja and I followed two of his soldiers and overheard them speak with a messenger sent to recall troops back to the Netherstorm. Something about a disaster at Ultris and problems at Duro. Do those names mean anything to you?”

“Ultris, Duro, Coruu, B’naar, Ara: they are manaforges Kael has constructed in the Netherstorm,” Voren’thal replied. “You would know that had you paid attention and remained in Shattrath more than a few days, young man. I would surmise that Kael needs vast quantities of water to keep them running. If he’s stepped up production, he could be planning an attack. I’ll warn A’dal. Is that all that you learned? That hardly constitutes ‘madness.’ We are at war.”

“No,” Zerith said, his lips quivering and his stomach churning. “Some of Kael’s followers have…” leaning over on the other side of E’la, Zerith let his stomach empty itself.

The other three grinned at him, their grins closer to frowns, in commiseration. Voren’thal raised an eyebrow, wondering what news could be so ill that it would make one physically ill.

“Demon blood,” was all the priest managed to gasp out after he finished spewing the contents of his stomach. Voren’thal clenched his jaw tightly, fighting down his own illness at the words. Zerith, pale and green around the lips, opened his mouth to try to explain but the elder cut him off with a gesture.

“That’s…faugh! That even Kael would do that makes me sick!” Voren’thal spat. “No, say no more, priest. That is dire news indeed. To fight our own is bad enough. To fight our own when they are twisted into mockeries of their former selves…well, we will soon learn how the orcs must have felt. Did you see your sister among those? Is that what has you spewing?”

“We did not see her among them, no,” Jez’ral said coldly, his frost taking the heat from the elder man’s face. “She would never betray us to them. Still, we have a question and you will answer it.”

“Oh, I will, will I?” Voren’thal muttered.

“You will or I will make you wish you had,” Jez’ral said, the chill leaving his voice, making his tone bland and banal. Zerith, Dar’ja, and Callie stared at the warlock. His placid tone made his threat even more horrifying. “We overheard some of Kael’s followers mention a Vial. Did Kael have one already or does this mean that we can end our search for that young woman and begin preparations for her funeral rites? She will have them, Voren’thal!

She’ll have them if I have to kill every being in this city to make it so!”

“She’ll have them, warlock,” A’dal’s chimes rang across all of their minds. “She’ll have them when her time comes. Voren’thal, tell them what they wish to know. The information they have gleaned is worth that much, at least.”

“Illidan gave Kael a Vial when Kael swore allegiance to him. It was a way of…binding Kael to him. That Vial was both a blessing and a curse. By itself, it’s not enough to re-ignite the Sunwell. Oh, believe me, we tried,” Voren’thal sighed sadly, remembering the desperate hopes of those days when they dared to believe they might be able to free themselves of their oaths to the mongrel Lord of Outland, the hope that they might be able to reverse the withering trend and cure all of the Wretched. “If Kael knew that the other two Vials were out there, freed from their powerful masters, in the hands of a little girl…he’d 271

have his scouts scouring every inch of this broken world. What one cannot do alone, all three together might have enough power to accomplish. It was a scheme Kael raved over, sometimes. As much as he wanted the other two Vials, neither Vashj nor Illidan trusted him enough to give him that power. At first, we all thought it was just a ploy to keep us dependent on them. Now, however…dark as they were, they were right not to trust Kael!”

Jez’ral’s face fell. “So, he had a Vial already.” Brightening, the warlock grinned, “Well, that means that we still have a chance. She may still be alive and well. We’ll search Nagrand and then Blade’s Edge. She’s got to be in one of those areas.”

“Then we search still,” Zerith sighed. Glaring down at Voren’thal, he heeled his hawkstrider on, leading the others through the shortcut on the Aldor’s tier. The elder watched the four ride on, his heart heavy, wondering if the young woman hadn’t betrayed them all.

“Have Thalodien report to my office at once,” Voren’thal whispered to a young elven hunter. “Send Larynna as well. I have a task for the pair of them and they need to get started on it as soon as they can.”

“As you wish, commander,” the hunter said, bowing and striding off.

“This isn’t what I wish at all, young man,” Voren’thal muttered to the hunter’s back.

“If I had my way, we’d all of us be back home, basking in the sunlight, taking our ease. No,” he said, shaking his head and feeling the gnawing, mindless worm of dread begin to twist his guts as he thought about what Kael was doing and what that young woman might have just handed to him, “this isn’t what I wish at all.” Giving his head a firm shake, praying Thalodien would not find what he feared the man would, Voren’thal began walking as quickly as he could back to his library and office, hoping they would be able to put an end to their insane prince’s schemes before disaster fell on them all. ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin tried to stifle his anger, to keep from unleashing it upon the child who persisted in pestering him almost daily. All he wanted was to sleep. Even if sleep brought nightmares and terrors, it still was better than laying awake knowing that Alayne was going to be killed and it was his fault.

“This is Equina,” Sar’la said, holding up a pony doll. “She’s my favorite. One day, when I get a magic horse like Miss Alayne has, I’ll name her Equina too. Do you like horses, Mister Ger’alin?”

“I like horses,” he muttered sullenly. “I have one named Lucky.”

“Is he magic?”

“No. He’s stubborn.”

“Oh. Well, maybe you’re not nice enough to him. I’ll bet he just wants to be friends and you probably don’t give him any apples or sugar.”

“If he’ll promise not to tell on us, I’ll give him a whole orchard of apples,” she had said, he recalled. Closing his eyes, he could see the sly, self-satisfied grin on her face. She’d been proud of herself for that plan. He’d been proud of her for pulling it off, even if she had scared the life out of him by sneaking away to try it on her own. With a sigh, he lifted his hand to gently pet the kitten curled up on his chest. The warmth and the weight reminded him of how Alayne used to curl up next to him, her head on his chest, sleeping peacefully and trusting that he would not let anything happen to her while she left herself open to attack from any side. Fighting back the anger, depression, and frustration that made him want to grab the kitten by the scruff of its neck and fling it off of him, to fling away the painful memories it awoke, he continued to rub between its ears. In its sleep, the kitten purred and flicked its ears.

272

“He likes you,” Sar’la laughed, clapping her hands. Ger’alin had been listening to her babbling with half an ear. “I want you to have him. He can keep you company when I can’t sneak in here.”

“Take him back with you,” Ger’alin said, forcing himself to adopt a pleasant tone. As irritating as the orphan was, he knew he would feel worse without her daily visits even if he did want to sleep. “You should go now. I’m really tired.”

“Okay,” she said pleasantly enough, gathering up the few toys she had brought to try to tempt him out of bed. Gathering the kitten in her arms, she smiled at Ger’alin. “I’ll bring a game tomorrow. Are you any good at jacks?”

“I was an expert at it when I was your age,” he muttered. “Marbles, too.”

“Oh wow,” she said in awe. “What about war?”

“Sar’la, by the time I was your age, I had killed at least a million dragons, skeletons, and ogres. But war isn’t a game. It’s a horrible thing. I hope you never experience it as anything other than a game.”

“If it’s so bad, then why do people do it?” she asked curiously. The wars that had wracked her world and had taken her parents had been old when she was born. A world filled with war was the only kind the orphan girl knew. Ger’alin looked at her, seeing so much of himself as an orphan. Only, he had grown up and had his childhood in a world where war was a far off concept. Something the humans did and the elves only got involved in because of ancient ties and promises made centuries before Ger’alin’s own parents, let alone Ger’alin himself, had been born. The girl deserved an answer of some kind. She had been faithful to her promise to ‘Miss Alayne’ even if it tore Ger’alin apart trying to be kind to her when all he wanted to do was wallow in self-pity and recrimination.

“I don’t know, Sar’la,” he said honestly. “We fight because there are others who force us to. If we had our way, we’d have peace. But, as long as one side wants to fight or wants to force the other side to be its slaves, there will be war.” The girl watched the Blood Knight solemnly. He continued, trying to make sense of something that still confused him.

“Frankly, if the alternative weren’t so bad, I would say we should stop fighting. But, the alternative is to be enslaved. To never be able to choose for ourselves what we want to do or who we want to be. In some cases, not even dying would free us,” he shivered, recalling the horrors of the Scourge advance from his youth. “We’re fighting because we have no choice.

There are bad people out there who…”

“Is Miss Alayne a bad person now?” the girl asked, her tone quavering. Ger’alin stared at her in shock.

“I…ye…not…I don’t want to believe she is,” he answered lamely. “I believe that everything she’s done is my fault. I…I did something to her that may have set her on the path to attacking this city. Really, it is my fault,” he said harshly. “If anyone is a ‘bad person,’ it’s me.”

“But you’re not a…”

“Evil can wear many faces, you know,” he said quietly, staring at the ceiling.

“Someone you trust, someone you think would never hurt you…they can turn on you in a second. Someone you put all of your faith in can betray you. I did it. I forced her down this path and, Light help me, if they find her, if they kill her…her blood will forever stain my hands!” he shouted, clawing at his eyes. Sar’la backed out of the room, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open, and her heart pounding. Ger’alin continued to wail and shriek that he was one of the most vile, evil, black-hearted creatures the Light had created. Aldorite priests and Scryer retainers came running to the room, carrying vials of sedatives and cords to bind him. None of the adults noticed a little girl, terrified and confused by the drastic, quick-silver changes in someone she’d been asked to look after, backing away, her kitten clutched to her chest.

273

“You’re not bad, Mister Ger’alin,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against her kitten’s head, seeking comfort. “If you were bad, you wouldn’t feel so guilty all the time. At least, that’s what Matron says. That if we feel guilty for doing wrong, then that means that we’re good children and, as long as we don’t keep doing wrong, we will continue to be good and the Light will continue to protect us.”

Turning on her heels, Sar’la shuffled back to Lower City, pondering over what Ger’alin had said before he started screaming. ~*~*~*~ “No, no,” Ger’alin moaned over and over again as he saw Alayne riding on the back of a nether drake, casting bolts of flame and shadow upon the inhabitants of Shattrath. Bodies burned and flew apart as her spells landed. He winced as he watched her tear through those who should have been her allies, her face blank and expressionless as she watched friend after friend die. “No, please, stop,” he pleaded.

The scene shifted suddenly, causing Ger’alin to lose his balance. Landing heavily on his seat, he watched as Alayne cast some spell over the Vials. A golden light began to shine forth from them, lighting her face up like the sun at high noon. He threw a hand up in front of his eyes as the glow grew, enveloping both of them, blinding him and deafening him as it roared past. He felt as if he were being torn apart by the power she had unleashed. Howling winds lashed at him, pushing him back until he felt himself smack into a wall. Covering his eyes with his hands to protect them from the grit being flung against him by the wild winds, Ger’alin prayed that they would subside and that he could ask Alayne what had happened.

When the howling air finally grew calm again, he slowly lowered his hands from his face, bracing himself for it to start up again. He screamed when his eyes fell on the form of his wife laying on her side near where he had been sitting earlier. Scrambling over to her on his hands and knees, Ger’alin turned her gently, praying that she was merely unconscious. Her staring eyes spoke the truth. “No, Alayne,” he begged. “Don’t be dead. Don’t have killed yourself trying to help me. I’m not worth it!” The bodies of those she had slain to steal back the other Vial appeared around him, their sightless gazes accusing him, damning him. “I wasn’t worth it!” he screamed. “You didn’t have to do this! You never had to walk this path for me!”

“Is Miss Alayne a bad person now?”

The bloody corpses shivered as if she were casting her spells anew. Once again, he could see her flying over Shattrath, raining down death and destruction to try to help him. He knew that had to be the reason she’d done it. No matter that the Scryers and Aldor all thought that, as a warlock, she lusted after power. She would do anything to aid those she loved.

Anything.

“Is Miss Alayne a bad person now?”

“No!” he yelled. “No, it’s my fault! Mine!” Alayne dismounted and rushed into the library. A pair of Vindicators grabbed her, pulling her back, dragging her towards a block stained with wet blood. Tying her down, one of them hefted a sword over her neck. “No! She did it for me! Me! Kill me and not her!” Again, the scene shifted. Alayne remained strapped to the chopping block, the Vindicator holding his sword over her head but the bruises on her neck and face, the bruises he had put there in his anger and frustration, appeared again. He could see himself standing beside her, his foot reared back to slam into her ribs. Fear twisted her features as she stared at him blankly.

“Is Miss Alayne a bad person now?”

274

“No, she is not!” he screamed. “No matter what she’s done; she did it for me! Blame me for it! Don’t hold her to account for whatever insanity she wrought because I pushed her to it! It’s my fault! Mine!”

“I make my own choices,” he heard her whisper, staring up at him from the block.

The sword hovered inches above her neck. “I have wrought my own destiny. Do not blame yourself for my actions. Had I it to do all over again, I would do no differently. This is the fate I have earned.”

“Alayne, no!” he cried, collapsing to his knees as he watched her be executed for her crimes. “I pushed you to this no matter what you say… It’s my fault…”

“Is Miss Alayne a bad person now?”

Ger’alin could feel hot, bitter tears of remorse and recrimination trickling down his face as he slept. ~*~*~*~ “Hey now,” Ger’alin heard a gentle voice whisper. “Don’t cry. It will be okay. Look, you’re upsetting my kitten.”

“Sar’la, what are you doing here?” he groaned as he opened his eyes. She was sitting up on the cot next to him, her little kitten curled up next to his ear, licking his temple as if to comfort him. “It’s well past your bed-time,” he muttered, noting that the room was dark and the only sounds, apart from their voices, were the soft chirps of crickets and other nocturnal creatures scampering about while the sentient slept.

“Beli came up here. He was worried about you,” she replied primly, pointing to the kitten. Ger’alin reached back and, taking grip of the girl’s pet gently, lifted him and set the kitten on his chest as he normally did. The little cat pawed the elven man’s chin softly in greeting before settling himself down in his accustomed spot. “I told you he likes you.”

“You still should not have sneaked out of the orphanage and up here. You shouldn’t be visiting me so much no matter what promise you made to Alayne. She wouldn’t want you to be upsetting yourself and worrying about me. I’m a grown man, Sar’la. I can take care of myself.”

“If you can take care of yourself, why are you in here still? Even Dar’lio wasn’t sick as long as you have been and he was really bad sick with lung fever last winter. What’s happening to you? After the priests leave, you look fine. But then, by the next morning before they come to look at you, you’re all bony and pale again.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he said stoutly.

“But it scares me to see you get like that. What did you do to make it happen? I don’t ever want it to happen to me.”

“It won’t. It only happens to people who deserve it.”

The girl paused for a long while before exhaling slowly. “It only happens to bad people?” she asked at long last. He nodded slowly and she drew a shivering breath. “Then will it happen to Miss Alayne, too?” she asked, her voice quavering. Ger’alin’s eyes flew open in shock.

“No, no it won’t,” he said quickly. “But, you shouldn’t be around me so much. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.”

“But we’re friends…”

“Sar’la…”

“No, we’re friends now,” she said firmly.

“Yes, we are,” he said quickly, “which is why, as your friend, I want you to go back to the orphanage and get some sleep. You need to rest. And, I want you to stay outside all day tomorrow and play in the sunshine. You’re going to be as pale as I am if you keep staying 275

inside with me all the time like you have been,” he added, congratulating himself on a way of getting the child out of his hair for a day or two. He liked the little girl but the constant attention had been wearing the last few days when all he wanted was to be left alone. The girl said something so softly Ger’alin couldn’t hear her. “What was that?” he asked.

“I can’t sleep. I keep having bad dreams about Miss Alayne getting hurt and about you getting sicker.” Ger’alin’s face softened while part of his mind began shouting at the other part for letting the little girl get this involved. Children should be protected from, not exposed to, the failings of their elders. “Tell me about how you made the orcs be our friends?” she asked. “I heard it was you and Miss Alayne and Mister Zerith who did it.”

“We learned that the orcs had drunk demon blood,” he began, grinning when Sar’la winced elaborately in disgust. “Well, they had a good reason for doing it at the time. They were afraid of the Legion. Illidan Stormrage offered them his protection and convinced them to drink the blood so they would be stronger.”

“Drinking demon blood makes you strong?”

“Yes, but at a very high price. It makes you easy to control by those who know how.

Like, Alayne, she could use her magic to force the orcs to do what she wanted. But, she wouldn’t ever do anything like that unless she believed they were beyond saving and were completely evil. Alayne hates slavery,” he muttered to himself, recalling her reaction to seeing the Broken slaves in Zangarmarsh. “Well, the orcs drank it because they believed they needed to be stronger in order to fight the Legion. Illidan started using them to make weapons and enslave dragons so he could take over all of Outland. We found out which demon Illidan had used…”

“It was Magtheridon,” Sar’la interrupted.

“Yes, it was,” he agreed. “When we figured that out, we killed that demon. Doing that freed the orcs from the effects of drinking his blood and I was able to get them to listen to me about serving the naaru and fighting the Legion without having to corrupt their own people.

After that, they decided to join with us if we would help them kill Illidan so that he couldn’t threaten to hurt them again.”

“So, the orcs did something bad but they are making up for it?” she asked, summarizing. Ger’alin nodded. “So, Miss Alayne can make up for the bad thing she did later on because, like the orcs, she probably had a really good reason for doing it. You should go find her and ask her why and then tell the Aldor and Scryers so that she won’t be in trouble.”

“It’s not that simple, Sar’la,” he sighed sadly.

“Why not? If we can forgive the orcs and be friends with them after they all drank demon blood,” she grimaced, sticking her tongue out, “then we can forgive Miss Alayne. The orcs did a lot worse than just blow up a building. They tried to kill people. Kids, even.”

Ger’alin stared at the girl in shock. “Miss Alayne didn’t kill anyone. She just knocked out Mister Jez’ral. Everyone was talking about it the morning after it happened. The worst hurts were bruises and broken bones from where big rocks fell off buildings when the dragon breathed on them. They can’t blame all of that on her. That was the dragon’s fault.”

“She didn’t kill anyone?” he asked uncertainly.

“Nope. She just took something important and ran off from what I hear. I asked Matron what it was that got taken and she told me it was none of my business. Do you know what it was?”

“Sar’la, it’s time for you to go to sleep now,” he said suddenly, feeling a rising hope.

Alayne had not killed anyone. She hadn’t even seriously injured anyone. All she’d done was…attack the sanctuary city of Light to steal an immensely powerful object and run off to the Light-alone-knows-where with it to do the Light-alone-knows-what with it, he reminded himself bleakly. “Go on, Sar’la. And, thank you.”

276

“Thank you for what?” she asked as she scooped up her kitten and climbed down from the cot.

“I’ll explain it when you’re older,” he grinned as she rolled her eyes and snuck out of the room. Settling back into his bed more comfortably, Ger’alin tried to close his eyes and find a moment’s peace from the long battle he felt beginning within him. Hope and despair pulled him in opposite directions as he prayed for the peaceful darkness of undisturbed – and possibly unending – sleep.

277

Chapter Twenty: Alayne’s Plan

“N

o way she would go up there. She’d have to fly and you know how much she hates that,” Dar’ja grinned, trying to make light of the situation.

“Besides, she’d have had to wade through those demons and, if what you say is true, they’d be attracted to the power of the Vials.”

“We cannot afford to leave any stone unturned,” Zerith sighed, staring up at the cliffs. “I wish Ger’alin were here. I wish he were well. He’s the only one who could or would scale that mountain. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he thought Alayne might be up there.”

“Do you really think she might be up there, though?” Dar’ja said absently, staring up at the heights.

“She ran off with a nether dragon, it seems,” Zerith replied. “And she said she didn’t want to be followed and she was going somewhere to study the Vials ‘at her leisure.’ I think that, if she were convinced it was to help Ger’alin, she could quite easily steel herself to hide in the high passes. Now, the question is this: how do we get up there? I’m not strong enough to climb that myself,” Zerith admitted, feeling a pang at the admission.

“No way,” Jez’ral muttered. “Not even for Miris and Tal’ar’s daughter.”

“I could give it a try,” Callie offered.

“Would you like your remains buried or burned?” Dar’ja teased. “No, Zerith’s right, the only one of us who could scale that with any hope of surviving is Ger’alin…were he in his normal good health. Ugh! The more I think on it, the more I’m convinced that you’re right and she’s up there. That would be the perfect spot to hide, knowing that only Ger’alin could get up there and he’s in no condition to make the attempt. What?” she asked, startled when Zerith suddenly snapped his fingers as if he had had an idea.

“Ger’alin’s the only one who could climb up there,” he said brightly.

“I know,” Dar’ja replied.

“Ger’alin’s the only one who could climb up there,” he repeated, his voice picking up excited heat.

“Yes, Zerith, we know that,” Callie muttered.

“Ger’alin’s the only one who could climb up there,” he said for the third time, a broad grin on his face as he stared up the cliff. “Ger’alin is the only one who could climb…”

“Up there! We heard you the first time,” Jez’ral snapped. “Ger’alin is lying on his deathbed in Shattrath. He’s not going to climb up there in this lifetime,” the warlock said testily. “I’ll give it a try. Light, how I hate heights,” he whimpered, stepping up and beginning to try to pull himself up the stone wall. Zerith ran over and grabbed the warlock around the waist, pulling him off the cliff and back onto the ground before he could get more than a few feet up. “What was that for? I said I’d do it!”

“Ger’alin’s the only one who could climb up there,” Zerith said, glaring at the warlock. “And I just thought of a way to pull him out of his despondency, reunite him with his wife, and stop Alayne from doing whatever crazy thing she’s planning on doing up there.

Hear me out,” he continued, seeing the irritated looks on their faces at his constant repetitions. “We’re ninety percent certain she’s hiding up there, right?” The others nodded 278

doubtfully. “We go back to Shattrath. We tell Ger’alin that we’re one hundred percent certain she’s up there. Tell him we saw a blue-tinted dragon flying around.”

“That’s a lie, Zerith,” Dar’ja said caustically. “If we lie to him and he goes up there, by some miracle of the Light, and she’s not there? Then what?”

“We’ll cross that canyon when we get to it. She’s got to be up there. If she’s not there, where would she be? Blade’s Edge Mountains or the Netherstorm. We’d still need him to climb in the mountains, right? So, this is a warm up.”

“It’s still lying to him,” his wife pointed out.

“It’s a lie for a good cause,” Zerith snapped. “It may give him the kick in the rear he needs to get over this sulking fit he’s having that is killing him! Do you have any better ideas, dearest wife?” he said, his tone biting.

“No, I don’t,” she said sharply, “I just don’t like the idea of going and lying to a sick man, getting his hopes up, getting him to climb up a huge mountain, and then not being able to do anything about it if he gets up there, doesn’t find her, and decides to have another pouting session. At least in Shattrath there are people around who can force feed him and take care of him. And, Shattrath isn’t the edge of a mountain he can throw himself off.”

“Look, if he goes up there and doesn’t come down after, say, a day, we ride over to Shadowmoon Valley and see if we can convince Mor’ghor to talk one of the drakes into lifting one of us up there. They think highly of Ger’alin, after all.”

“And why don’t we just go and ask them for a lift now?” Callie wondered. “We go up there, find her if she’s there, and bring her back down here. Problem solved as far as I’m concerned.”

“Only that leaves us still having to find a way to sneak her into Shattrath or get him out of there. No, I think making him believe that he’s her only hope will be the best way of solving this whole mess,” Zerith said. “And, I’m going to do this whether or not any of you agree with me. If you are dead set against my idea, then just stay in Garadar and keep quiet until it’s over.” The others stared at the ground. Dar’ja lifted a hand to wipe her eye; she hated it when she and her husband were at odds but she could not condone lying to a dying man. “Look, it’s a desperate plan, I know,” he sighed, walking over to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “It’s the only thing I can think of, though. Were I in his situation, hearing that you were in danger and only I could reach you would be a sure-fire way to get me up and about and focused on helping you instead of feeling sorry for myself.”

“Alright, alright,” Dar’ja said at last, reaching up and embracing her husband. “I’ll go along with it. But, the minute he heads up those rocks, I’m riding hell for leather for the Dragonmaw to make certain your rescue plan will be in place. Knowing you, you’d leave it until the last minute,” she teased, her eyes still sparkling with unshed tears. The other two looked away, giving the couple a moment’s privacy.

“And, if she is up there and we fly up to find them…um…celebrating,” Callie whispered to Jez’ral, “we make certain we’ve got some itchweed with us, just to make things interesting.” ~*~*~*~ Tau’re stood outside the door to Ger’alin’s sickroom, waiting to hear the day’s report on the man’s status. He’d been down to the pre-arranged meeting place already, looking for a sign that said Alayne had been found. Sighing, he tried not to think about the disappointment he’d felt at seeing nothing. “Any change?” he asked, his normally booming voice quiet. The Aldorite priestess who was leaving the room jumped as if he had shouted.

“I…cannot say,” she answered finally, wringing her hands as if she wanted to say more but were afraid of getting the big bull’s hopes up and having him crush her when he 279

was disappointed. “He seems to be resting more peacefully now. He cries out less and, when he does speak, he seems to be pleading with someone. A’dal seems oddly hopeful, telling us to redouble our efforts.”

Tau’re nodded slowly. “That is good, then.”

“He still is very weak and still refuses to accept complete healing. His spirit seems…torn.”

“If only Callie were here,” Tau’re murmured. “She could probably tell you more about how he thinks. Aside from his wife, his Forsaken friend knows him better than any person in existence.”

“I see,” the priestess said, her distaste at the mention of the undead clear. “You may go in, if you wish. If you see a little girl sneak in there, try to keep her out. He’s got an orphan who seems to have adopted him and we’ve run her out of there almost every day now.”

“Ger’alin was an orphan himself,” Tau’re said. “Perhaps she has helped him in some way. Don’t worry; I will send her out to play. A sickroom is no place for a child. I agree with you there, priestess,” he finished politely. The draenei nodded uncertainly and swept off, bustling about on some errand understandable only by other healers. Tau’re watched her leave and then ducked into the room, pulling up a small stool to the side of Ger’alin’s cot and watching his friend sleep. “I hope you find answers or peace where ever you may,” he whispered to the slumbering sin’dorei. “Whether from an orphaned child or dreams, find whatever it is you need to be well. Your wife will sear all of us to the bone if we let you die. I wonder what she’s up to. What is her plan? Why did she do what she did? No worries, my friend,” he muttered in his native tongue. “Whatever she’s done, where ever she is, the Earth Mother will watch over her and welcome her home. You rest, now. I’ll just sit here and guard your rest until you awaken.” ~*~*~*~ The room was warm and bright. The smell of baking bread hung in the air, making Ger’alin’s mouth water. “Honey bread,” he said, drool on his lips. “Honey bread and roast beef with ground-up sansem leaves. What’s the occasion?” he asked as he sniffed the air, catching a faint whiff of his wife’s herbal soap.

“Your promotion, my fine Ranger-General,” Alayne laughed.

“I’m only a Captain of the Guard,” he laughed modestly, glancing down to see that he bore the uniform and insignia of the third-highest rank in the Silvermoon army. “RangerGeneral Brightwing would be most displeased if I started claiming his rank.”

“You’ll get there one day. After all, you are one of Silvermoon’s finest.”

“And you are incredibly biased,” he grinned, walking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled deeply. “But I was promoted a month ago and you whipped up a feast that still has my stomach bursting. What’s the occasion this time?”

“You know me too well,” she laughed, her laughter like the golden peal of a bell. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I?” He smiled and stepped back just enough to let her turn around in his arms. His grin slid from his lips when he saw her face. Hovering over her smiling countenance was a mask of sheer terror.

“Alayne, what’s the matter?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. The mask over her face began screaming silently. Ghostly arms reached for him, fingers curled like talons, reaching for him. Ger’alin recoiled, staring at his wife in shock and fear. From behind the apparition of horror, Alayne regarded him with confusion. “Ger’alin?”

280

“What’s happening?” he demanded.

“What’s the matter, Ger’alin?” she asked worriedly. “It’s not that…that…what happened in Shadowmoon all those years ago, is it?”

“Alayne, for the love of all that is holy, tell me what’s going on here!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and trying to focus on her true face. The mask continued to obscure his view. “Please, sweetheart, please!”

“Ger’alin, you’re hurting me,” she whimpered. He pulled his hands away, running them over his eyes and peering at her between his fingers. Suddenly, her back was facing him and her arms were raised above her head as if she were channeling magical energies. A bright light in front of her made her appear as just a silhouette and blurred the figures standing near her.

“What the…Alayne? Alayne!”

She whirled around to face him, her face painted with terror as the mask had been earlier. Stumbling, she tripped, falling backwards, her hands clawing at the air in front of her as if to find something to cling to. Ger’alin rushed towards her but she fell, vanishing through the floor. He stumbled over to where she had fallen, startled to see a pool of golden water.

But that was all he saw. No trace remained of his wife. Then, a shadow covered him and he heard dark laughter ringing through the air. Looking up, he saw… ~*~*~*~ Oh no, not again, Ger’alin thought as he tossed in his sleep. Not these dreams again!

Light forgive me! Alayne, forgive me! he prayed, seeking that which he only now dared believe he could receive. ~*~*~*~ “Alayne, get back from there,” Ger’alin called out. “You know you have no head for heights.”

“But it’s such a nice view,” she muttered, craning her head to gaze down into the canyon gorge. “I’m glad you brought me out here. It’s very pretty. Albeit in a very arid, desert kind of manner.”

“I’m glad you like it but could you just come away from the edge, please? You’re making me nervous.”

“I’ll come away when I’m ready,” she replied. “I just want to enjoy the view. There’s something about it…it’s important to me. It’s important to you, too.”

“Please just come back!” he begged, his stomach clenching. “Alayne!”

“But it’s important!”

“Nothing is more important than your life!”

“Oh really?” she asked, sounding amused. “Then why don’t you come over here to me? It’s important.”

“Maybe I will,” he growled back, staring to move towards her. He glanced down at the ground in irritation and confusion when his feet were held fast. “Alayne, get back from there!” She had inched closer to the edge of the cliff, her toes hanging over the open air as she leaned forward… “Get back!”

“You’ll have to come to me,” she laughed. “I’m where I need to be. I’m where I must be.”

“You’re not making any sense. Get back over here, woman!”

“If I could just see a little further,” she said, stretching out on the balls of her feet, “I bet I could figure out…”

281

“Alayne, no!” he screamed, seeing the edge of the cliff crumble away beneath her weight. She fell, twisting and gripping the edge with her hands, hanging on for dear life. “I’m coming for you!” he shouted. “Just hang on!” Tugging at his legs, he tried to force his feet up, tried to walk forward, tried to reach her to help her. He managed to stagger a few inches before he collapsed, surprised at how much effort it took to lift his feet; the ground seemed to hold him like quickly drying cement. He groaned as he pulled himself near to the edge of the cliff, sweat trickling down his face.

“Ger’alin, forgive me,” he heard her whisper as he saw her fingers begin to slip, “I was only trying to help…”

“Light, why couldn’t I reach her?” he shouted, tears streaming down his face. “Why did this happen? What was she trying to do?” Staring over the edge of the cliff, he could see her still falling into an infinite, foreboding darkness. ~*~*~*~ Whatever it was, he whispered to his wife across whatever distance lay between them, you did not have to do it. You are more important to me than anything else. Please, Alayne, please don’t risk yourself for me! ~*~*~*~ “What do you mean I need to be prepared to handle a starving man?” the Scryer priest muttered when Voren’thal passed along the message he had received from A’dal. “Honeyed roast? Who could possibly like something so vile?”

“I’m simply telling you what A’dal had relayed to me,” Voren’thal groused. “If you think I like being kept in the dark about whatever this is, you’d better think again. All I know is that an Aldor archbishop just came in here telling me that A’dal was going to try something else to help heal that young Blood Knight. He said that we’d best be prepared to shove that man full of food because, once he’s well, he’s going to need his strength for ‘the fight of his life.’ Bah! While I reverence the naaru and serve the Light, sometimes their insistence on mystery gets even me riled up.”

“I certainly hope that young man gets well,” the priest muttered as he turned to walk off. “Right now, he’s our best hope for finding that heretic thief. Perhaps with his attachment to the Vial, we could…”

“If it didn’t work for the ones who actually tapped into it, it’s not going to work on him,” Voren’thal said flatly. “You will not try that again. Light only knows how the others managed to survive that handling in their condition. We’ll have to find her the old-fashioned way. Thalodien is already working on tracking her. He believes he may have found his first solid lead. Now, go and prepare what it is the naaru have asked of us. It’s infrequent enough that we’re allowed to assist them. We will not turn our noses up at the opportunity now, even if it does involve whipping up a human feast.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin groaned when he opened his eyes. The room he lay in was cool and dark. He could hear the crystalline chimes of the naaru outside the room and could sense their presence. Relentlessly, he shut that path off, feeling overcome with shame at what he had become in the past weeks. “I’m a monster. No matter what Sar’la says; no matter what I want to believe. I don’t deserve mercy; I don’t deserve anything except to wither and die. I can’t even save her in my dreams!” he muttered sullenly. “Light, part of me still craves the power 282

she took away while the rest of me wants nothing to do with it again if only it would bring her back to me!” he raved. “Oh, Alayne, Alayne! Please be safe, where ever you are! Even if I never lay eyes on you again…”

“You may get your wish,” he heard a deep voice, filled with bitterness and regret, say.

Turning his head, he blinked. There had been a wall there, before. There had been a room there, before. He reached behind him, wondering where the bed had gone. “You’re asleep, young man. This is a dream. Like the others you’ve been having where you kill her, or she dies and you can’t save her,” he heard a strangely familiar voice mutter irritably.

“I thought you woke up the minute you realized you were dreaming,” Ger’alin muttered.

“You think a lot of things that aren’t necessarily true,” the man laughed ruefully.

Ger’alin blinked, looking around for the speaker. The mists of the dreamscape parted, revealing a man standing before a monument. The man was old and worn. His long brown hair was streaked with silver and white. He wore simple leather pants and a plain woolen tunic with a tabard bearing some strange emblem hanging from his shoulders. Ger’alin stared at it, trying to make out what it was. The image was obscured by the other elf’s long hair spilling down his back. A blue hammer hung from the man’s belt, adorned with a sword Ger’alin remembered from childhood. Ger’alin walked up beside the man and glanced at him, giving him a sidelong examination. His face was lined and creased, the set of his mouth speaking of a long period of bitterness and anger. His blue eyes stared at the monument as if, by sheer will, he could make it speak to him. “She was a brave one. Her brother was too. It is an infinite pity that they stood on opposite sides that day. Maybe if they’d stood together, they’d still...no use wondering. What’s done is done. Neither of them had seen the dawn of thirty years that day. So young…they…we were so young!” he growled, his fists clenching, his right hand straying to the sword as if he wanted to hurl it at the monument. “And I just lay there. Gibbering like a babe! While they fought a useless war! A useless war I started!”

“What are you talking about, old man?” Ger’alin asked slowly.

“Look at it!” the man snapped at him, turning and grabbing Ger’alin by his chin.

Forcing his face up, he set the younger man’s gaze on the monument. Ger’alin blinked, his eyes momentarily dazzled by the sun. When the image resolved itself, he collapsed to his knees, his jaw dropping open in terror.

The monument before him bore an inscription, dedicating it to the memory of all who had fallen in the Brotherblood War. “Folly kept us apart,” he read aloud, his voice leaden.

“Desperation heated our blood. To the young we sacrificed in our madness, to the first-fallen of our war. May we remember the love they shared and may it light our way back to reunion.”

“Look closely,” the older man growled. “Look closely and tell me who they are!”

“I know who they are,” Ger’alin said, shocked. “That’s Zerith and Alayne. What are they doing on a statue? Callie will laugh fit to burst when she finds out I dreamed they became famous enough for someone to make a statue of them. So, Alayne’s right. There’s going to be a civil war. Looks like she and Zerith put an end to it, though.”

“Have you always been this stupid or are you just doing this to annoy me?” the man said, forcing the words between gritted teeth. “Read that inscription again and take a damned good look at those two up there.” Ger’alin rolled his eyes but did as directed, thinking that this was the strangest dream he’d ever had. “To the young we sacrificed in our madness; to the first-fallen of our war. May we remember the love they shared…shared? Oh no, they’re not dead, are they?”

“Is Undercity under a city? Yes, young man, they’re dead. They’ve both been dead five hundred years or more now. Five hundred twelve years, three months, one week, and two

283

days, to be exact,” he sighed. “Dar’ja’s never forgiven me,” he whispered almost too softly for Ger’alin to hear.

Ger’alin stared up at the statue. Alayne and Zerith appeared no older than he knew them to be now. Zerith was reaching out with one hand towards his sister, a look of infinite sorrow but firm acceptance on his face. The other hand was raised over his head, one finger pointing up, as if calling on the Light to be his witness. A short space away, Alayne stood, one of her hands stretched out towards her brother, her delicate ears laid back, her face graven with desperation and sadness. In her other hand, held out and away from her brother, she held three Vials. Inscribed on the platform just beneath the pair but above the listing of names was the emblem stitched on the man’s tabard: a noon-day sun split in twain by a lightning bolt. “What…what happened to them?”

“No one is certain,” the man said quietly. “She had…run off. Vanished into the night with two Vials from the Well of Eternity. The next she was heard from, she was back here, on the Isle of Quel’Danas, trying to revive the Sunwell. Demons and undead were attracted to the power of the Vials; somehow, she’d gotten her hands on a third one. She was out here, alone, hunted by every creature from Kael’thas to Arthas to A’dal. Alone, and far too young and ignorant for what she attempted. Her brother rushed out here the moment he heard she was here; he’d spent weeks searching for her, growing more and more frantic after the naaru said she’d departed Outland. Some of his followers came with him but he made his wife stay behind in Shattrath to look after someone Alayne cared about. Someone who wouldn’t so much as turn his head for her!” the man spat angrily. “Kael had sent his own forces; Alayne had locked herself up inside the Magister’s Terrace. She’d set all kinds of traps, summoned and enslaved demons and undead to keep any from disturbing her. Zerith was able to fight his way through her barriers, and that’s where the story ends. The pair were found dead; her skull smashed in, his mace wet with blood. Her dagger was planted in his chest, shoved in almost all the way through. And there were the Vials. Those cursed Vials! The ones who found them fell to fighting over them immediately. On the ground where the two died – where they killed each other, it’s said – the Brotherblood War began. It lasted four hundred and seventy-three years,” he grimaced. “Quel’Thalas was completely destroyed, just as she said it would be.

Only a few hundred of us still live. The last battle…fought not even a mile from where we stand…,” he shivered. “And it was all for nothing! For nothing! They died for nothing! I should have been there; I should have put a stop to it. Instead, I was back in Shattrath feeling sorry for myself!”

“Who are you?” Ger’alin asked, feeling a squirming dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m an old fool who left his wife to die because I was too afraid to get up and follow her. Go back, young Ger’alin. Go back now and find her. Where ever she is, you follow her.

There’s a chance this can be averted; there’s a chance she can be saved. Take it!”

“But I have no right to her any longer,” Ger’alin stammered. “I tried to kill her! All because I wanted…”

“Oh, yes, the addiction,” the man said, his voice acid that seared Ger’alin’s ears.

“Poor Ger’alin. Addicted, craving arcane energy so much he went mad for a moment. Listen to me, young man. Do nothing and you will kill her,” the man growled. “Lay in your bed, gibbering over your addiction and your actions and she’ll die as certain as the sun sets in the west. Get up, follow her, stay with her, and she might survive. At the very least, you’ll die with her instead of spending the next five hundred and twelve years, three months, one week, and two days filled with remorse and regret that you never got the chance to tell her you were sorry. That you loved her; that you were going to get over your addiction and its cravings and you were going to be the husband she deserved! You will, young Ger’alin. You’ve got the strength of will and body to do it; you just need to decide to do so! Quit feeling sorry for

284

yourself and wasting everyone’s time. Your wife needs you. Go find her,” he pleaded, “go find her before it’s too late!”

Ger’alin stood up and brushed himself off, nodding vigorously. Turning on his heel, he began running back the direction he’d come. The older man watched him run off, a sad, but oddly peaceful smile on his face. Glancing back up at the statue, gazing tranquilly on the face of the warlock, he lifted a hand as if to reach out and stroke her cheek and whispered, “I’m coming for you, sweetheart. Just wait for me a little longer.”

Reaching the bottom of the hill, Ger’alin turned, lost. Glancing back over his shoulder, he looked for the strange man he felt he should know. The statue and man had vanished, the green hill top replaced with a misty dreamscape once more. “I always thought that the minute you knew you were dreaming, you’d…” “…wake up,” he finished, his eyes popping open. Lifting a trembling hand, he was surprised to find traces of tears down his cheeks. “I’ve got to get up,” he whispered to himself. “No more wasting time on what I’ve done wrong; it’s enough to regret it and wish to pay the price of my sins. I’ve got to find her,” he said, the words a talisman. “If I don’t, she’ll be right. And she’ll never let me live that one down.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral and Sar’la stopped, wondering what the crowds around the door to Ger’alin’s room meant. Aldorite priests ran in and out, ignoring the sin’dorei, looks of concern and puzzlement clear on their alien faces. “Oh, Light,” the man prayed silently as he tried to figure out what he would say to distract the girl, “please don’t let him have…”

“He will see you soon,” A’dal’s chimes rang across their minds. “He is much better.

The Light has shone upon him and, today, he has woken, spoken rationally, and is working to regain his strength as quickly as he can.”

“When did this happen?” Jez’ral wondered.

“Since early this morning. The only answer he has given me,” A’dal sighed, sounding somewhat frustrated, “is that he ‘must find her before it is too late.’ I fear he may be setting out on a dark path to try to save one who has surrendered herself to fate. I hope the Light will continue to shine upon him.”

The warlock opened his mouth to demand a further explanation but was cut off by a struggle at the door, several scandalized shouts from women, and a barrage of Thalassian curses which brought Ger’alin, wearing only his undergarments, into the main room. “I’m going to find her!” he was shouting. “I don’t care what you think, I’m going. You may think she’s a criminal, a traitor, or worse, but she’s still my wife! My wife! Give me my clothes and armor back or I’ll go in what I’m wearing right now! I know what it means now. She needs me. She’s calling out to me. I’m going to her whether you think I should or not!”

“Be at peace, young sin’dorei,” A’dal chimed, his tones halting the man where the strong hands of the Vindicators had failed. “You are free to leave whenever you wish.

However, would it not be wise to spend a day recuperating from your recent travails? You could discuss your visions with me or my brethren. Perhaps we could aid you in understanding the true meaning, if such foresight has come to you from the Light.”

“The Light?” Ger’alin asked, sounding confused. “I…A’dal, forgive me, but I have no right to call upon the Light any longer.” Jez’ral sucked in a breath in horror at himself as he listened to Ger’alin speak. “No, hear me,” the man said, speaking more clearly than he had in some time, “I turned my back on the Light, craving another power. Craving something that gave me ecstasy instead of peace, exhilaration instead of joy, excitement instead of contentment. Even now, I want that other power more than anything – up to and including seeing my wife again. I burn for it, A’dal. But…I cannot let her die! I heard what she did; I 285

know what her crimes are. I know she faces execution several times over but I can’t let her face this for me. I’m going to find her and let her know that and then I’ll take myself off to die as I should. Some will be glad to see that happen,” he muttered. “Now you know. I am going to follow after the one who attacked this city. I am going to join her and take back the fate I never should have cast aside…no matter how weak I was. It was supposed to be me who died from the Vials, not her!”

“Events have played out as they were intended,” A’dal murmured, his words for Ger’alin alone. “Trust in the Light that it is sovereign over all life. And, young mortal, the Light will ever seek you out, no matter how dark the path you walk. You are facing a trial now, one that will test you for the rest of your life. But it will teach you mercy, compassion, and gentleness. Already, I can see that it has humbled your former arrogance, bringing you low where you once believed yourself mighty with your strength of body and your skill at arms. Turn back to the Light, and know a joy beyond any that the Vials can bring. You who helped free the Dragonmaw from the Legion’s taint can likewise be free.”

A warm, gentle glow suffused Ger’alin. He gave himself over to it, letting it melt the chill he’d felt surrounding his heart since learning from guarded whispers that his wife had made a desperate stand against the city of the naaru, the city of the Light. Where the glow from Illidan had twisted him, sharpening his hunger even as it fed him, this glow brought only a sense of peace and fulfillment. Looking back, he could see a time when this had been what he lived for. Looking ahead, he could see a time when it would be once again. Sighing, tears of joy and hope flowing down his cheeks, he let the Light shine on him, bringing the one gift he’d forgotten: forgiveness.

Watching the man she’d promised to look after, Sar’la grinned. “Now we’ll get to go on an adventure and find Miss Alayne,” she whispered softly as the attendants carried Ger’alin back to his bed and to restful slumber.

“Come on,” the warlock whispered to the girl. “Let’s go find the others and tell them the good news about Mister Ger’alin.”

“Will we get to go on an adventure together next?” she asked as the pair set their steps back towards Lower City where most of the Disorder of Azeroth were gathered.

“Perhaps,” Jez’ral smiled to himself, grateful to the powers of the naaru that Ger’alin was well and praying that his own student would be found in good health also. “Perhaps.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sighed and turned his head towards the door. He wished he had the strength to stand up and walk out of the room. He’d thrown away what little energy he’d managed to hoard when he wrestled his way past the healers earlier. After A’dal’s restoration, he’d been drained and had collapsed in a heap. “I’ve got to find her,” he growled to himself, “I’ve got to be with her and to save her! Come on, Ger’alin,” he berated himself as he felt his consciousness slipping away under exhaustion again, “rise! Move!”

Meanwhile, outside, Zerith chewed his lip nervously as he and the others strode up to the building housing the naaru and Ger’alin. He wondered idly where Jez’ral was. The warlock had gone to Lower City to visit the orphan who had adopted Alayne. Zerith wished he where here; the priest could use the man’s biting sarcasm to help him convince Ger’alin to get out of the bed. The closer he drew to the structure, the less certain he grew about his plan to deceive the Blood Knight. “But we’ve got to get him out of that bed, at least,” the priest argued to himself. “We’ve got to do something. Light, how I wish Alayne were here.”

Pausing when he thought he saw his sister's teacher striding off, Sar'la in tow, he continued his on-going argument with himself, trying to convince himself as he had been when he first hatched this mad scheme.

286

“It will go well,” Dar’ja whispered in his ear, taking a moment to embrace him and give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You’re right. We’ve got to do something. Even if it’s the wrong thing, it’s better than nothing.”

Sighing, he leaned down to return her kiss with one of his own. Then, with a shake, he straightened and gestured for the others to fall in behind him. Marching straight into the main building, ignoring the guards stationed near the door to Ger’alin’s room, he paused only when he saw Tau’re stepping out of the doorway. The tauren grinned when his eyes fell on the priest. “Have you found…?”

“Perhaps,” Zerith said carefully. “How is he?”

“Better. Much better,” Tau’re laughed. “This morning I checked on him. He was worse. His dreams were…well, he kept shouting her name and saying something that sounded like ‘shindo fallen hah,’” he hesitated, hoping the priest would translate the words.

Zerith nodded, motioning for the tauren to continue. “I couldn’t remain for that. I left for an hour and returned. I don’t know what happened in the time I was gone, but his sleep had become more peaceful. He still cried out from time to time. He would call out to her but, after a time…well…he started speaking to A’dal in his sleep. Now he’s resting. He woke briefly and knew me, asked after her, and said he wanted to see you – just you, Zerith – when you returned. Something about he needed to give you a message he’d received.”

Zerith nodded and, hiding his shock, strode into the room. Ger’alin lay curled up on his side, the blankets bunched around him, sleeping. His face, while still gaunt, was no longer haggard. The dark circles had vanished from under his eyes though the orbs were still sunken too far back in his thin face. His chin remained a bony knob instead of the square, strong line it had been before his illness. Pulling a chair to the side of the bed, Zerith sat down and folded his arms over his chest, waiting for the man to wake up again. He did not have to wait long.

“Tau’re?” Ger’alin asked, not even opening his eyes.

“No, it’s Zerith,” the priest said softly.

“Oh, Zerith,” Ger’alin yawned. “I wanted to speak with you. She’s in grave danger. I have to find her.”

“Alayne hasn’t been out of danger since the moment I first laid eyes on her,” her brother muttered wryly. “We’re looking for her. She may be hiding over…”

“No, you have to stop looking for her.”

“Ger’alin, I’m not just going to leave my sister out there to face the dangers she’s pulled down on her head alone,” he said firmly.

“No, don’t stop looking for her entirely but you, Zerith, you have to stop. Otherwise you two might kill each other.”

“Ger’alin, sometimes dreams are just that: dreams. They don’t always mean something. I would never harm my sister. I love her as much as if she were truly my own.

She is not Valara remade but she’s precious to me nonetheless.”

“Just stop. Stay in Shattrath. Or, if you do find her, don’t go after her! Leave that to me,” he muttered, pulling open his eyes and staring earnestly at his comrade and commander.

“I’m her husband, after all.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling so much better,” Zerith grinned, changing the subject, quashing the irritation he felt that Ger’alin would ever begin to believe he would harm Alayne. Dreamstruck the pair of them were, he thought. “Because we’ve found our first hopeful sign of her and we need your strength.”

“My strength? Zerith, I’m not the man I was a month ago.”

“No, you’re not. But we can’t reach her where she is. If you’re feeling so much better, perhaps you will allow A’dal to heal you, restore you fully, so that you can go out with us and bring her out of danger.”

287

“I don’t deserve it,” Ger’alin whispered hesitantly, not wanting to ask for more than he’d been given already, “but…I’ll accept it. To help her. May I prove worthy of this gift.

A’dal,” he said, knowing that the naaru had heard every word, “if you could spare the energy to restore me enough that I could help my friends and loved ones…”

“May the Light give you the strength to fulfill your destiny, Ger’alin,” A’dal’s chimes sang throughout the room. “May it restore to you what you had before and give you the patience and discipline needed to regain what you have lost. May its mercy shine on you forever, and give you peace.”

A soothing warmth filled Ger’alin’s heart and spirit and, closing his eyes, he could feel the strength returning to his limbs. With a sigh, he tossed the blankets aside and let his legs fall over the edge of the cot. Standing up, he staggered, on the verge of falling, before he caught his balance. Zerith masked his concern, letting the other man stumble and find his footing. The Blood Knight was better but…he was still so thin! The next words out of Ger’alin’s mouth put an end to that worry, “You know, Zerith,” he said softly, timidly, as if he felt he had no right to voice the words, “I wish Alayne were here. I’m starving.”

“You have got to tell me what has happened to you,” Zerith smiled, his eyes shining with tears of joy and thanksgiving. “But first, let’s find you some clothes to wear and some food to eat. You can’t scale that mountain in your undergarments and with an empty belly.”

Both men gave a start when the door banged open to admit a string of servants carrying platters of food. “How in the Light…”

“A’dal,” Ger’alin thought suspiciously, “do you know something I don’t?”

“I know many things you don’t, sin’dorei. But, for now, I know you need to eat and find your wife. Take your path, warrior of the Light, and follow it to your destiny.” ~*~*~*~ Dar’ja stared at Ger’alin, almost as stunned at the changes in the man as she had been at the ones before, from his earlier torment. She watched, from a distance, as Callie dashed back and forth, bringing him food and practically dancing with delight to see her friend restored. The rogue had done cartwheels through the main building of the Terrace of Light when Zerith and Ger’alin had walked, the Blood Knight mince-stepping and relying on the priest for support and balance, out of the sickroom. She’d been hard-pressed to restrain her joy and keep her mouth from mentioning the one name that would get them the cold shoulder faster than anything else. “Not that I can blame Callie for celebrating,” Dar’ja thought to herself. “Seeing him walking and speaking clearly, not raving or blaming himself, made me wish she were here as well. She ran off for nothing! Why does she always do this?”

“I’m glad he’s better,” Jez’ral muttered behind her, “but I hope Zerith can snap him out of that melancholy he’s getting into. By the sun, that man has more passions than a human romance novel!” Dar’ja gave a start and turned and stared at the warlock with interest.

“You’re very…observant. I don’t think Zerith or Callie has even noticed that he’s brooding. All they see is him eating.”

“Young woman, do not start with me,” Jez’ral said, his tone distinctly annoyed.

Dar’ja grinned despite herself. “I have lived with a man who can go from glacial to boiling with odd stops between in less than a minute! You would think that a half-century of experience would give one a little insight so don’t condescend to me again!”

“You have no idea how nice it is to have you snapping at me again,” she chuckled.

“Your memories are returning. She’ll be thrilled.”

“When she gets back or we find her,” he growled, placing an emphasis on the pronouns that spoke the name unspoken, “I am going to tie her up in a bundle, cart her back to Mir’el, and tell him to make certain she doesn’t go anywhere without supervision until 288

she’s my age! I suppose we’ll have to consider her…husband…as supervision. It still surprises me that she’s married so young. That you’re married so young. That children are marrying so young!”

“Do you remember the lectures you may have heard when the call came out to return to our homeland?” Dar’ja asked, her cheeks heating with a furious blush as she remembered the disconcertingly frank discussions some of the older women had given the younger ones.

“No, I had to hear enough of that garbage when I left childhood,” he said, sounding a touch chagrined. “The duty to the blood?” he asked. She nodded. Both turned red. “So,” he said after a heavy pause, “Ger’alin sure can eat.”

“Yes, yes he can,” Dar’ja grinned, relieved at the clumsy change of subject. “He eats each meal like it’s either his first or his last, especially when Al…,” she trailed off. “If you had the Vials, what would you do with them?” she blurted out.

“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “The higher theories of the arcane are mixed in with the memories I know I should have but don’t,” he admitted. “But, I’ve been listening to gossip from the Magisters; they speak more freely around an adult than they do around you ‘children,’” he explained apologetically. “Let’s assume she was merely trying to study their properties. With an artifact of that magnitude, the best place to do that would be on the Isle of Quel’Danas. I can remember being there vaguely; the ley-lines are strong. She’d be able to use the sympathetic resonance to create a stable arcane frequency…you don’t understand a word I’m saying.”

“You lost me at ‘ley-lines,” she confessed ruefully. “Oh, I know what they are.

That’s it,” she explained at his irritated grimace, “I’m no magi. I wanted to be a priest or a ranger when I was a little girl. When I heard about Lady Liadrin’s studies and the creature Kael had given us, I devoted myself to studying that, to learning to wrest Light-energies from it. I believed, as many of the recruits did and do still, that the Light had abandoned us,” she explained. “So, I had no issues with learning to wrest its power from what I believed was just an energy vortex. I admit, I could sometimes feel the naaru’s pain and sorrow. I steeled myself against it, though. It’s funny,” she sighed, “I hated priests. Hated them with a passion.

I thought they were doing exactly what we were doing but were lying and telling everyone they still had faith and access to the Light. Then I met Zerith… My studies have taken me into healing and the Light since then. Not into magic and arcana as Alayne’s have.”

“At any rate, the best place to do what she might be attempting would be on the Isle of Quel’Danas and in the heart of the remnants of the Sunwell. A’dal has said that she’s still in Outland. The only places out here where the kind of experimentation of that kind would be feasible would be in Nagrand or in Netherstorm. It has to do with the amount of power she’d be unleashing. Objects of that magnitude are best handled where there is a high amount of sympathetic resonance. It makes controlling the output of the energies easier. Now, if she’s not attempting to study them; if something she read taught her how to use them safely…,” he sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with fatigue at the thought, “if she were to try to actually use them; she’d want to be some place safe. Well fortified. With an army at her back.

She’s obviously not in Shattrath so…”

“So…?”

“Nothing. She’d never do that. She’d never go there. She’s probably hiding and trying to figure out how to use the Vials, not aware of just how deadly they can be in the hands of a novice. And, while Alayne was one of my best pupils and is my pride and joy…she’s a novice. She will need another fifty years of study before she could begin to take the first level of tests to become a Magister and she still cannot channel arcane energies herself. She’ll wind up being like Mir’el and I, I’m afraid. And he and I will have to retire and give up our studies in twenty or thirty years. Fel magic is just too…addicting. The allure…the rush…,” he trailed of, his eyes misty as if he spoke of an old friend. “Still, it’s harsh and galling compared to the 289

gentle glow of pure arcane magic,” his tone changed. No longer did he speak of an old friend; now he spoke of a former lover, one long missed and still greatly desired. “If you did not study it before the Sunwell’s destruction, you cannot know what it was like, Dar’ja. Alayne, Light bless her, knows. She remembers. Her mother probably would have too, had Miris not died of heartbreak over Tal’ar. Nothing in this life; not even the warmest, fondest, most tender and ardent caress from the love of your life can compare to the joy that comes from channeling – or perhaps, being channeled by would be a better description – the arcane. It’s no wonder that Ger’alin fell so ill and became so desperate. As a non-magi, he would never have learned how to control that hunger, how to deny it and refuse to let it control him. Still, I envy him, in a way. To have experienced that bliss…,” his lips were parted and his breathing shallow and swift. Dar’ja moved to interrupt him, to bring Alayne’s employer and former teacher back to reality. “Only the glow of the Sunwell could begin to compare, and only just.”

Staring at Jez’ral, Dar’ja began to feel a burning sensation in her middle as worry and suspicion gnawed at her. “The glow of the Sunwell,” she thought to herself, “Light no…” ~*~*~*~ “So, Nagrand?” Ger’alin said, forcing his voice to be light and his tone reasonable.

Part of him still wanted to sob for thankfulness for the gift he had received. Part of him still wanted to seek out the nearest source of arcane energy and drain it dry. Instead, he focused on chewing the warpstalker meat Callie had brought him. Skewered on a stick and oddly spiced, it was sweet and sour at the same time. Sweet…like the thrill of… Relentlessly, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind. “Up the mountains in the west of Nagrand, you say?”

“She could be up there. We’re reasonably certain she is,” Zerith said, feeling uneasy about the lie.

“I scaled about halfway up that cliff when we were there the first time,” he sighed. “It looks more difficult than it is. A firm grip, a steady pace…you could climb it yourself, Zerith.

She could climb it, if she wasn’t terrified of heights,” he said, grinning and remembering the beginning of the evening that ended with him waking up on the floor of Alayne’s room, desperately wondering what kind of mischief he’d gotten up to in his cups. The thought of not lying next to her, of not seeing her and speaking with her – or even just being in her presence – seared him. “You’re certain she’d have flown up there with that dragon she teamed up with? Alayne, my wife. Your sister. The one who has to be dragged onto a zeppelin? The one who left claw marks in the tower outside Undercity?”

“You’d be surprised what she can force herself to do when she thinks she has no choice,” Zerith said mildly. “Remember the night of her trial? She forced herself onto the zeppelin then.”

“You’re right,” he grinned, the warmth barely lighting in his still-blue eyes. “When she gets her mind set on something, she can be rather…persistent about it. Even to the point of flying. You might have someone set a watch, though, to see if they see anyone scaling down it or if they see that dragon. One or both will have to leave there to eat, eventually. If you can find sign of that, we know for certain she’s up there. Have you seen anything like that?”

“No,” Zerith said, dragging the word out, “but then, we didn’t have much time to look. We’ve ruled out Hellfire Peninsula, Shadowmoon Valley, Terokkar Forest, Zangarmarsh, and almost all of Nagrand except those mountains. Where else would she have gone?” he asked, congratulating himself on his quick-thinking even while berating himself

290

for his dishonesty. Ger’alin gave him a measuring look. Finally, the man sighed and set his food aside. Staring down at the ground, he replied.

“She could have gone to Blade’s Edge Mountains. Light help me, though, I hope not.

From what I heard from Garrosh, those hills are infested with ogres. Alayne wouldn’t last a minute against those brutes,” he growled, “and if she was foolish enough to go there and one of those barbaric beasts has so much as laid a hand on her…,” he lifted his eyes, the crackling lightning in his eyes making the hair on the back of Zerith’s neck stand up. “There are few things in the life that I hate. The way I have acted recently for one. The Scourge and the Legion for second and third. And ogres. I hate ogres.”

“Well, I’m sure she wouldn’t have gotten mixed in with them. She wanted to get away from everyone, remember? Far away to study those Vials. The top of the mountains in Nagrand seems about as far away as you can get…”

“Baring, of course, the Netherstorm. She heard enough about that place to be very intrigued by it.”

“But Kael’s in the Netherstorm,” Zerith pointed out. “She would not want to risk being captured by him. He’d take the Vials away from her in a heartbeat.”

“True, true,” Ger’alin said beneath his breath. “Well then, let us be on our way. I want to stop by Garadar as we pass and speak with Garrosh. There are words I need to speak to him concerning his sister-by-marriage,” Ger’alin said bleakly. “Things he must understand…or, she’ll be right.” With a shake, Ger’alin resumed eating, chomping down the food so quickly Zerith knew he couldn’t even taste it. The priest watched in silence, wondering just what was going on between his sister and her husband and whether they’d both be donning sackcloth and scrying prophecies in the near future.

“Dreams,” the priest thought as he watched Ger’alin eat, “why can’t they just be pleasant things for all of us?” ~*~*~*~ “Twenty gold he takes all day to scale that,” Tau’re whispered to Callie as they watched Ger’alin prepare to climb the cliff.

“Deal,” she laughed. “With him believing Alayne might be up there, I’d be surprised if he took an hour.”

“Is she up there?” the troll asked. Callie spread her hands and shrugged. “So, he could be expending precious energy he needs to fully recover from his ordeal on a wild kodo chase?”

“She’s up there. She has to be. It’s the only place she’d know that was remote, accessible, but difficult to get to. It’s the best hiding spot in all of Outland.”

“How much of my gold are you going to lose for me if I fall?” Ger’alin called out loudly, making everyone laugh.

“None of your gold,” Callie quipped. “Losing that is someone else’s job now.”

“Well, if that someone else is up there,” he hollered, pointing, “you may not see either of us for quite some time. I hate arguing with her but…making up should be fun.”

“Making up?” one of the shaman shouted, “try making out!”

The entire Disorder of Azeroth roared with laughter when the Blood Knight blushed furiously and nodded. “Good one, Fam’iv,” Callie heard someone hoot. “Good one!”

“I guess I’d better get started, then,” Ger’alin muttered to Zerith. Squatting down, the man rubbed dirt into his palms, clapping them together to remove the excess and then leapt up, grabbing onto the rocky holds and pulling himself up the cliffside. Cheers broke out as the entire gathering watched him ascend. Ger’alin let it warm him and give him strength; he’d said this would be easy. He had thought it would be until he attempted it. After a half hour, he 291

realized he may be in a bit of a sticky situation. Stopping to sit on an outcropping, he glanced down, his stomach fluttering. The crowd below was an indistinct mass. He could have counted them all but could not tell who was whom. His arms shook with the effort that climbing the few hundred feet had cost him. Looking up, he saw he had at least two-thirds more of the way to go. He let his head fall back against the wall of the cliff and let the cool breeze dry the sweat dripping down his face, arms, and chest. Had the others been gone, he might have doffed his shirt. He considered it now, deciding not to. “I may need it to keep those rocks from scratching me bloody,” he told himself. “But, I just need a little break. Just a little one, mind,” he whispered, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the cool, gentle breeze. “I still have no idea what I’m going to say to her to convince her to give up whatever mad scheme she’s on. This whole thing is my fault to begin with. Had I never given in to my addiction, had I been stronger, had I fought it, she never would have felt like she had to run away and figure out how to use those blasted Vials!”

“Enough of that,” another part of his mind said, stemming the tide of selfrecrimination. “Beating yourself up does nothing to find her and put a stop to the danger she’s in. You heard the rumors around Shattrath about what happened to those who did try to tap into it. They were destroyed. The sooner you pull yourself up this cliff, the sooner you can stop her from obliterating her mind or bringing a horde of demons down on her head.

And,” the voice sighed sadly, “if she’s already done one or the other or both, you can at least be there to help her. Stop worrying about yourself and start worrying about her.”

“Light, I am,” he told himself. Standing up, he gave a small jump and resumed his climb. Losing himself in the steady motion of reaching, pulling, pushing, and pausing to look for his next step up, he never noticed how tired he was or how late it had grown until he pulled himself over the top and onto soft green grass. “I don’t think I can move,” he said aloud, his face pressed to the ground. His arms quivered and his legs burned. Turning his head, he saw that night had long since fallen. Stars dotted the inky sky, twinkling down through the oddly beautiful nether clouds. Rolling over on his back, he watched the sky for a while, dozing, his body needing to recover the energy he’d spent climbing. “I need to find her,” he would mutter to himself whenever he woke from his light napping. “She needs me. I have to stop what we both foresaw.”

He glanced over and saw a misty form in the distance. Rolling back on his stomach with a grunt, feeling the weight of his body press against his bruised chest, he laboriously pushed himself to his feet, surprised at how painful and difficult it was. A glance at his hands told the tale; they were raw and bleeding. Wiping them on his pants, careless of the stains he would leave, he hobbled over on bruised feet, searching out the form.

The clouds lay thick on the mountain this high up and he wandered through their fog, praying he wouldn’t step over the edge of the cliff to his death. Ahead of him, he saw the figure once more. His heart leapt to his throat and he sprang, running after it. “Alayne!” he called out to her, “Alayne! My dear, my love, forgive me!” he cried out, tears of joy spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry! You don’t need to do this! I can get over my addiction.

Sweetheart, please!” he pleaded as the figure ahead of him continued to walk away.

“Don’t follow me,” he heard her voice ring in his ears. “Stay away from me. You cannot help.”

“That’s ridiculous!” he shouted to her. “Whatever it is you think you must do to help me, you can stop it! You can come back to me; to us! I know you attacked Shattrath and stole the other Vial. I know you’re wanted by just about every organization in Outland. Still, come back with me, dearest. Come back and we’ll find a way to make it right, together! I am so sorry for all that has happened in the past weeks. It’s my fault. Come back with me, Alayne.”

292

“You cannot help me. I must accept my fate. Even this. Even this to bring back the light of our hope,” he heard her say, her voice sounding empty and hollow. “I cannot allow you to interfere. Stay away or our lives will be forfeit.”

“Alayne, what are you talking about? What must you accept? Come over here, woman! At least look at me! Alayne?” he called out, seeing her misty form vanish in the fog.

“Alayne!”

With a roar, he ran after her, losing himself in the mists. ~*~*~*~ Light trickled in from gaps in the leather hut’s roof, tickling Ger’alin’s eyes. With a moan, he opened them, his head throbbing and his mouth dry. Running a tongue that felt like sandpaper over lips that felt like parched and cracked ground, he opened his eyes. “Alayne?” he asked, wondering if he’d found her and she’d brought him back here to rest.

“Sweetheart?” He gagged, his mouth tasting as if he had been eating arcane dust. Lifting his head, he let it drop immediately, overcome by a sense of drunkenness. “Blech! Dearest, what is going on?”

“I’ve been called that before but I prefer my men a little hairier, no offense,” he heard a woman laugh. Turning his head, he saw a tauren carrying a water skin. “Would you like something to drink? You look dehydrated. You look as if you should be in a sickbed, actually, not scaling the mountains of Nagrand,” she admonished lightly. “Whatever were you doing out there in the dell?”

“I’ve got to find her!” he said quickly, tossing the thin blanket away. The tauren woman chuckled and reached beside her, tossing him his clothes. He flushed in mortification and dressed quickly. “I’ve got to find her. She’s in danger.”

“Find who, young sin’dorei? The only ones up here other than you and I are demons.”

“No, she’s up here. I saw her last night, wandering in the fog. She told me not to follow her but Light blind me and sear my soul if I’ll listen to that!” he spat as he fumbled with his belt. Thick bandages swathe his hands, making it difficult for him to fasten the buckle. And still, he felt thirsty. And hungry. A hunger for more than just food gnawed at him. With an effort, he refused to let it control him, refused to reach out and search for a source of energy to slake it. He shook with the effort of denying himself but busied his mind with focusing on finding his wife.

“Here,” the tauren said, hefting the water skin. “Take a drink. I was just coming to check your hands and feet,” she explained, glancing at his limbs. “I found you this morning, wandering in the dell, raving. When I took hold of you to keep you from walking straight into a tree, you collapsed in my arms, shouting at me in your native tongue. Let me see how your wounds are and then I’ll help you find whoever it is you followed up here.” Ger’alin clamped down his impatience and let the tauren check his hands and feet. She tossed the bloody cloths away with a grimace and poured a soothing balm on his hands. Rubbing it in gently, she rewrapped his hands with clean cloths and then inspected his feet. “I never know what to do about fleshy feet,” she apologized. “I’d say you bruised your hooves good, were you a tauren.

As it is, you probably shouldn’t climb any mountains today,” she teased. “If you can bear the pain, it’s not serious. Come on,” she said, helping him stand. “Drink some of that water and we’ll go.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin hobbled along after the tauren, hoping they would find sign of Alayne soon.

His heart pounded in his ears and a mixture of joy and rage rushed through him; joy that he 293

had found her. Rage that he had lost her again. “I see no sign of anyone, Ger’alin,” the tauren woman muttered. “I’ve not seen any indication of another being up here – barring the demons, of course – since I arrived myself. I don’t think this person you’re looking for is up here. You were delusional from exhaustion, no doubt.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I saw her. I heard her speak to me. She’s up here. Maybe she’s over near these demons. If they’re nothing too powerful, she may be using their presence as a cover for the energies she’s testing.”

“These Vials sound dangerous to me.”

“They are, Elaira,” he agreed. “That’s why I climbed up here to find her.”

“I see,” the tauren sighed. “Well, I wish you luck with your search, Ger’alin, but I must return to my sparrowhawks. They’re skittish enough as it is. If I deviate from my routine, they’ll never become accustomed enough to me to allow me to commune with them.

If you need my aid, seek me out again,” she offered. “The sparrowhawks go to sleep with the setting sun. Perhaps, if you’ve not found her or found that she’s not here by then, we’ll find her together, tonight.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, wishing the druid well as she loped back down the slope to her camp. He sighed and glanced over at the twisting path that led to the pass to the demon camp Elaira had mentioned earlier. He didn’t think Alayne would risk hiding among demons but…

“There’s no telling what she’s doing,” he admitted. “I might as well check it out. If she’s not there, I’ll…well, where else would she be?” he asked himself. “I saw her, didn’t I?” Wishing desperately he had brought his sword with him, Ger’alin set his feet on the path leading to the demons’ camp. Following the twists and turns of the path, he paused when he smelled smoke and sensed the tingle of raw magical energy. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind, forcing his hunger back once more. “Light be with me,” he prayed. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know I have asked more of you than I have a right to. But, I need your aid in finding my wife. She has put herself at a grave risk,” he explained, “at a risk that…there are fates worse than death.

If the Vials she carries fall into the wrong hands, the Legion or the Scourge might triumph over all life. You cannot want that,” he pleaded with his unseen benefactor. “It must not be allowed to happen. Therefore, I ask that you be with me now and allow me to see if she is in this camp. Should I be found out, I ask your aid in vanquishing those who would serve the Legion and its blasphemy against your gift of life and creation. As the Light wills,” he concluded, “so let it be.” Feeling a gentle peace he had not felt since before his time in the Black Temple, Ger’alin crept down the path, keeping himself hidden in the rocks, while he scouted the camp.

The camp was large and dominated by fel orcs. He felt his stomach clench and writhe when he saw a group of warlocks summon several demons and begin channeling, broadcasting their fel energies throughout the camp. Part of him wanted to reach out and partake of the energies. Firmly, he held the desire in check. “I’d give myself away,” he told himself. “It’s not worth the risk.” Slithering on his belly, Ger’alin listened in on several conversations, praying that someone would mention an elf woman. Finally, just when he had given up hope, a stray bit of discussion came to his ears.

“That elf prince isn’t half so bad,” an orc grunted. “He’s got himself set up in that fancy naaru vessel like it’s a palace. And those forges he’s got. Not bad at all.”

“It’s good that we’re all on the same side now,” his comrade snorted. “But I don’t trust those pasty-faced elves. With their pointed ears and their looking down their noses at everyone, they can’t be half as good as they think they are. The Master cannot seriously consider placing them in command of our legions.”

“The Master’s plans,” a booming voice rang throughout the camp. Ger’alin gave a start and nearly ran gibbering from his hiding spot when he saw an enormous red-skinned demon stomping over towards the pair. “The Master’s plans are none of your concern, dogs.

294

Your concern is to harness the energies on this ridge. If our plans are to succeed, the portal must be opened quickly! We lost control of Azeroth once before because we were not swift enough. This time, the portal will be open almost at once. Now that we have the,” the demon paused, an ironic grin on its face, “the ‘keys to victory’ as he likes to call them, we will be able to open the portal faster than anyone would dare believe.”

Ger’alin’s breath caught in his throat at the demon’s next words. He feared that he pounding of his heart would give him away. Black specks floated in his vision before he remembered to breathe. “Kil’jaeden will be in Silvermoon within two month’s time. Already, the beginning of the attack is underway. Just a little more energy sucked out of the Netherstorm and the first phase of the battle will begin. That elf prince assures us his followers will allow our armies ‘safe passage’ through their lands and city as long as we do not ‘despoil’ them too much.” The orcs hooted with laughter, slapping their thighs. “Now, get back to work. If you maggots want to serve the Legion, you’ll do it with no slacking!”

Ger’alin heard and felt the demon storm off and, flitting his ears forward to better catch the sound, knew that the pair of orcs were gone as well. Scrambling back the way he came, he prayed he would be able to get back down the cliff without falling. “Light,” he thought, speaking as if to an old friend, “thank you for letting me hear that but why oh why couldn’t it be ‘by the way, that elf lady, Alayne Sunrage, is alive and well and just the next mountain over?’” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin stared at the ground in front of him, wishing he could find the energy to drag himself back to Elaira’s camp. The fire he’d laid crackled in front of him, giving off warmth and light. Idly, he plucked a blade of grass and, pulling it apart with his fingers, tossed it into the flames. “No sign of her,” he muttered. “I should have known this was a wild kodo chase.

But why would he have suggested it at all?” Laying back, he tucked his hands beneath his head and stared up at the sky. “Where would she be, then? They said they searched Terokkar, Hellfire, and Zangarmarsh. She’s not in Nagrand. Ogres,” he spat, thinking of what Garrosh had told him of the brutes in Blade’s Edge Mountains. “If they’ve harmed a hair on her head…or worse,” he said, thinking of the elves loyal to Kael in Netherstorm. “I’ll raze Netherstorm from north to south, east to west, and top to bottom if they’ve harmed her.”

“Ger’alin, is that you?” he heard Dar’ja ask, her voice filled with fright.

“Yes, it’s me,” he sighed. “I was going to have a night’s rest before trying to climb back down. There was no need for you to climb up here after me.”

“We grew worried after the first night,” she said quickly, the terror in her tone flogging her for haste. “We went to Garrosh. Mor’ghor sent drakes to fly us up here to find you. You’ve got to come back with me,” she pleaded. “It’s Zerith. I think he’s suffered the same thing you did when you drank that…whatever it was that Geyah mixed up for you. He’s been pacing a hole in the ground all day, talking to himself and talking to…”

“To who? Alayne? She’s not…” Ger’alin asked, tears springing to his eyes and his voice catching. “I mean, she can’t be…”

“No, not her,” Dar’ja said. Ger’alin heaved a sigh of relief. “Her father. And his own.

It’s like he’s gone mad; everyone is keeping their distance, afraid of him.”

“I’m coming,” Ger’alin said, standing up and kicking the fire out. Stomping the ashes out completely, he strode after Dar’ja. Within minutes, they were aboard the back of a nether drake and were circling down to the fields beneath the mountains.

The camp that the Disorder of Azeroth had set up was a hodge-podge affair. Leather and cloth tents stood in haphazard lines. The mounts were stabled, each one outside its owner’s tent. The soldier in Ger’alin wrinkled his nose in distaste at such disorganization.

295

“Picket lines,” he thought to himself. “And straight rows. Makes for easier guarding and easier defending.” Shoving the military thoughts to the side, he followed Dar’ja into a spacious silk tent. It had been his gift to the couple for their wedding…once they’d calmed down, of course. The priest sat inside, his ankles crossed, elbows on his knees, and his chin in a hand. “She’s not up there,” Ger’alin said flatly. “But I did hear something of inter…”

“But why? Why? Just tell me where she is and if there’s a good reason, I’ll give over,” he muttered angrily to someone who wasn’t there. “No, no. Now you know I wouldn’t do that anymore than I would if she were truly Valara. Stop it. Make sense, Father! No,” he growled, swinging his head as if to glare at another person, “you are her father. Light, according to Jez’ral, you cared for her and her mother more than life itself. Why would you try to stop me from rescuing her from danger? Stop this, both of you! Leave me!”

“Zerith, who are you talking to?” Ger’alin asked, giving a confused look to the man’s wife. Worry tinged with stupefaction painted his words. Zerith glanced up at him irritably and gestured in front of him.

“My father and Tal’ar Dawnrunner, Alayne’s father,” he said. “They say they’ve come back from beyond with a message for me but it does not make sense. They say we are to return to Shattrath and live out our lives in peace. That we are not to search for Alayne any longer. Some business about ‘disaster coming assuredly if we find her or try to stop her.’”

“Could it be the same thing that happened to you?” Dar’ja whispered in Ger’alin’s ear. Ger’alin shrugged and, recalling the lessons in handling the dead Alayne had passed on to him, he opened himself, allowing himself to see any restless spirits nearby. The tent, save for the three living elves, stood empty. He shook his head.

“There’s nothing there,” he said flatly.

“I swear to you,” Zerith said, “they are standing right here. My father, dressed in the priestly robes he wore in life; the ones I put on him with my own hands when he died. Her father, looking years younger and more vital than he did when we saw his mistreated corpse shambling about that citadel. They are both there! It’s just that this message from beyond makes no sense!”

“When was the last time you slept?” Ger’alin asked gently. Zerith shot a frosty look filled with daggers at the Blood Knight.

“I’m not the one who’s crazy,” he said, his tone as flat as a becalmed ocean. “I’m not the one who was struggling with my arcane addiction and then refusing to accept the Light’s healing. They are right there; they just won’t tell me anything that makes sense.”

“Zerith, there are no spirits in this tent,” Ger’alin said calmly, refusing to let himself react to the goading. “This is a prank of some kind. Take a deep breath; you can practically smell the magic in the air.”

Dar’ja and Zerith both sniffed deeply. They turned twin glares on Ger’alin. “I sense nothing out of the ordinary,” the priest muttered. “Perhaps they have simply chosen not to reveal themselves to you?”

“I doubt it,” Ger’alin said. “You say they say we should give up the search for Alayne?” Zerith nodded. “Do they seem aware of my presence at all?” The priest shook his head. “Tell them what they want to hear.” Zerith’s jaw dropped in shocked outrage. “Just do it. I want to test something.”

The priest nodded and sighed. “I still don’t understand,” he said to the spirits Ger’alin could not see, “but if it’s that important, we will return to Shattrath for the time being. Still, if I hear word of her and she’s in danger, I’m going after her.” That seemed to satisfy the spirits because, seconds later, Zerith blinked and sighed with relief. “They’re gone.”

“Right. So, we head to Blade’s Edge Mountains next,” Ger’alin said flatly. “But first, I want someone to return to Shattrath and bring back a Magister. The air in this tent reeks of arcane currents,” he explained. “I don’t think you were visited by spirits at all.”

296

“Why would someone go to the trouble of creating such a powerful and accurate illusion? Is it even possible?” Zerith demanded. “That was my father! Down to the way his hair fell in his face all the time and he had to pull it back with a braided cord. And her father; he looked exactly as she’s described him.”

“What did their voices sound like? The same as you recall?” Ger’alin pressed.

“They didn’t speak with voices,” Zerith whispered. “It was more like…thoughts forming in my head. It took me a while to figure out what they wanted.”

“Still, we report this to the Magisters and let them investigate it,” Ger’alin said firmly.

“And then we strike camp and head to Blade’s Edge Mountains tomorrow. If Mor’ghor will continue to loan us the drakes, we should be able to find her there quickly.”

“I just told my father…,” Zerith began angrily. Ger’alin cut him off with a gesture.

“That wasn’t your father. Something damned odd is going on here. While I was up on the ridge, I dreamt I saw Alayne and that she ordered me not to follow after her. When I woke up, my mouth tasted as if I’d been eating magic dust. I still felt woozy; as if I had been standing too close to the Sunwell,” he said, recalling his one childhood visit to the elven shrine. “Just now, when Zerith was babbling on about ghosts, I felt more arcane power being channeled into this tent. Someone is trying to trick us into halting our search for her and I’d love to know who and why.”

“You’ve suddenly become knowledgeable about arcane matters,” Dar’ja muttered dryly. Ger’alin glared at her.

“Perhaps it escaped your attention,” he said, his tone coated with sugar, “but my wife is one of the most skilled and able students of such matters. I did spend a not-so-insignificant amount of time reading over her shoulder while breathing in the scent of her perfume and soap. I learned a few things. Also, it seems that what has happened to me on this side of the Dark Portal has…changed me in many ways. Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to sense the arcane currents in the tent just now. Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have cared enough to try. But now…now I want to learn more about them so that I can learn how to control my hunger and turn it to service of the Light and naaru. I have to, Dar’ja,” he said bleakly, his change in tone wringing her heart. “What I did while under the influence of my addiction was something I never dreamed I’d be capable of doing. I have to make it right; I have to pay for the gift of forgiveness I’ve been granted. And,” he said, staring off into the distance, “I have to follow my wife where ever she goes. I can’t let what I foresaw become reality. I just can’t!”

“Calm yourself, Ger’alin,” Dar’ja said softly, soothingly. Reaching out, she patted the other paladin on the back, rubbing his shoulder as if to smooth his feathers. Zerith stared at the man in rapt fascination. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation behind all of this. There has to be.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne sighed and knuckled her back. Weariness and long days with little rest and less sleep had augured fatigue into her back. Her steps dragged on leaden feet as she told herself that, in celebration for her success, she would permit herself a few hours of uninterrupted napping. “Tricking them wasn’t very nice,” Mordenai teased.

“Be quiet, you,” she thought irritably, wishing she could summon up some good humor. “It was necessary. You heard what my Lord’s watchers said. They said that there had been parties out searching for Lightbinder’s sister and Sunrage’s wife. Thank the Light none of them have put two and two together yet,” she sighed with relief. “Had they kept up their search, someone would have eventually. Desperate and foolhardy as most of the Sunfury are, they aren’t stupid.”

297

“I know,” Mordenai said quietly. “But you’ve been so…distant and hard lately.

Sometimes I wonder if this was a good idea at all.”

“It wasn’t,” Alayne admitted. “It was a plan borne of complete desperation. I thought that, with the Vials, my Lord would give up his plotting to summon Kil’jaeden into our world. But he hasn’t. He’s handed the Vials over to the eredar. He’s increased production from the manaforges to the point of where I wonder just how much longer reality in the Netherstorm will hold together. But, even in the midst of all that…he’s still the only hope I can foresee for re-igniting the Sunwell and saving Ger’alin and the rest of our people.”

“I know,” Mordenai replied. “I know the plan forming in your mind. As long as we’re connected like this, I almost know what you think before you think it. It is…can you be certain he’d want you to? That he’d be willing to go on like that?”

“He’s not going to have much of a choice,” she replied wryly. “If you can see the end, then you know my mind’s already set. Two sparrows with one stone.”

“Still, why the tricks on them?”

“To keep them in Shattrath. To keep them far away from me. According to Zerith, they’ve not even heard a whisper of where I am or what I’m doing. From what little I could glean from his mutterings, they were in Nagrand. If I can keep them off my trail long enough, my Lord will order me to Quel’Danas. Once there, hopefully I’ll be so immured in work that no one will know I’m there until…”

“Until we leave,” he finished for her. “Just don’t play any more tricks on them. You know that what you were doing had to leave some trace. You can’t count on them not to ever have a Magister handy.”

“They’re returning to Shattrath,” she said. “Zerith would sooner lie needlessly to me than to his father. I think that doing that again won’t be necessary. I will have to keep an ear open for word that they’re still on the trail, though. Light, I hate what I’m doing but I have no choice! Zerith would never understand the price that has to be paid to bring our people back!

He’d never understand it. Neither would Dar’ja or Ger’alin.” She grimaced, her mouth twisting with distaste. “Only Ta’sia would and likely she’d let Ger’alin die of his illness before she’d lift a finger to help either of us. Mir’el…Mir’el is too much like Voren’thal.

He’s conservative. Takes his time. Doesn’t like to be rushed. But we can’t wait! Ger’alin will die if we wait!”

“I know, Alayne, I know,” Mordenai said gently. “You don’t need to convince me. I knew before we left Shadowmoon that there was always a chance that… but you’re right.

Your people have suffered far too much. Yes, this path is a deadly one but you’ve convinced me you can walk it. Someone has to.”

“And I can’t trust anyone other than myself to do it,” she returned. His silence spoke his agreement. “Besides, most of them are no doubt glad to be rid of that perversion, that death knight. With me gone, Garrosh and Mor’ghor should hold their alliance with the rest of the groups allied against my Lord. That’s my last hope,” she thought forlornly. “That, if I fail, if I falter and fall, that Shattrath can come and do what I’d leave undone.”

“Plots within schemes within stratagems,” the dragon mused fondly. “You really will earn that title he’s trying to thrust on you.”

“I may have no choice but to call him ‘my Lord’ and bow and scrape and leap to do his bidding,” she thought angrily. “I may be bound by a geas until he lifts it or dies, but I do not have to accept ludicrous offerings from him. I can refuse a patent of nobility. He thinks even more highly of me for not leaping at the chance to ‘shed my common name for a higher.’”

“Still, it would make your job easier. Perhaps if your workers had to bow and scrape to you, they wouldn’t argue with you so much and would take better care of you. You are wearing yourself out, Alayne, working two shifts out of three with only a few hours sleep.”

298

“Do you remember the mess that this place was in when I assumed command?” she said acerbically. She felt his sighed acquiescence. “I have no desire to die before my time,” she muttered, “and if I don’t make certain that the rift remains stable, we’ll be swarmed with netherspawn again. You know what happened at Ultris. They lost every man at the forge when that demon swept in. They should never have let the rift grow so wide or so unstable. I will not lose my life or my crew to carelessness!”

“Still, you should sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” she thought, careful to keep the thought to herself. “My bed is so empty without him there. My life is so empty without them here. I never knew just how much I relied on their strength and wisdom until now when it seems that everyone is turning to me.” Her introspection was interrupted when a runner stepped up to her, bowing and ducking his head politely. “Go ahead,” she said, grating her teeth at the formality.

“King Sunstrider wishes you to join him for lunch before you take your rest. He wishes an update on the status of the forges under your command. You are to attend him immediately,” the messenger said, puffed up with his own self-importance.

“Knock it off, Sam’vah,” she muttered. He grinned boyishly in return. “Do I have time to run a brush through my hair or does my Lord intend to count the seconds?”

“While our lord does wish for you to answer his summons with all haste,” he laughed, “I think you have time to change clothes and do something about those bags under your eyes.

Go on, Alayne. I want to hear every word when you’re done. You’ve been called before King Sunstrider quite often of late. I think he’s taken with you.”

“Oh please,” she groaned. “He is not. Not in that manner, at any rate. He’s impressed by my abilities. That is all.”

“Still, to be taught personally by one of the members of the council of Dalaran. That’s something to brag about. But then, you were Darkweaver’s apprentice back in Silvermoon for a time, right? He’s…a strange one but he’s quite skilled nonetheless.”

“Who? Oh, Mir’el,” she said tiredly. “He’s very skilled.”

“You’re asleep on your feet,” Sam’vah giggled, “and I’m keeping you from your meeting with our king. Go on, Alayne. I promise, I will guard the rift with my life while you sup with the great ones and nap.”

“You’d better guard it with your life until my second gets here,” she growled, turning serious. “Do you want a repeat of Ultris?” He shook his head, his long blond hair flying in his face. “Then see that it remains stable. If the slightest instability comes up, you send for me right away. Don’t try to handle it yourself. You’ve seen me force them out of flux; you know that you don’t have what it takes. By the sun, I barely have what it takes,” she sighed. “It’s always just by the skin of my teeth that I get it stabilized. Always just. I’m going, I’m going,” she muttered, striding off.

Outside the massive manaforge, Alayne took a moment to lean against the smooth, cool wall. Constructed of some sort of crystalline material she’d never seen before, the forge, like its twins, rose up high into the Netherstorm, its peak containing the magical apparatus that created a swirling vortex of purple striated clouds above the forge. She could hear the reassuring hum of the turbines and engines as they gathered and processed energy. A gentle spray of mist from one of the conduits spoke of a leak that would need to be fixed while reassuring her that the flow of water from Zangarmarsh continued in spite of whatever her friends and the druids were doing. Pushing herself away from the wall, she strode down the cobbled pathway, nodding formally to the Blood Knights standing guard around the perimeter. Her heart turned over in her chest whenever she saw one of the men in their battleworn armor. With their helms on and their swords and shields held ready, any one of the larger men could have been Ger’alin. Continuing her swift but graceful stride to the edge of the broken isle, she signaled one of the magi on duty near Cosmowrench that she needed to 299

gain access to the Keep. Providing today’s passphrase – “night will fall and day will rise” in old Thalassian – she felt herself being transported through the currents of the arcane corridors and into Tempest Keep. As always when she was transported by an arcane spell, Alayne felt a pang of jealousy. She would sell her soul and count it cheap at the price to be able to wield arcane energy again. Of late, when she channeled fel powers or reached into the Nether to force a demon to her will, she felt the tingling thrill that tempted her to drink in more. “Either I’m beginning to succumb to the corruption Mir’el and the other warlocks warned us over or I’m around too many demons,” she thought to herself, feeling Mordenai’s agreement. “At least I managed to convince my Lord not to let them work in Duro. Letting them have control of Ara was bad enough but our numbers are too few after our losses at Ultris.”

“You’re an excellent commander, Alayne. Really and truly you are,” Mordenai said suddenly, making her blink.

“Thank you,” she sent back to him, feeling a warm glow of pleasure at his praise.

Striding through the corridors to her room, her step a little lighter for all her weariness, she quickly changed her robes and straightened her hair. Wishing she had taken the time – or interest – in purchasing face powders, she prayed that the bags under her eyes would not be too noticeable. Only moments after she’d entered, she left her quarters once more, setting out for King Sunstrider’s personal suite. The guards at the door grinned and announced her quickly, nodding in respect. Her talents in battle had put the Sunfury Blood Knights firmly behind her; they respected nothing so much as combat experience. “You wished to see me, my Liege,” she said, kneeling and pressing a fist to the floor.

“Rise, rise,” he said, his airy voice sounding amused. “I tell you, my dear, that you must not be so formal. You have earned my respect and my confidence many times over.

When the Sunwell is restored and Quel’Thalas shines once more in glory, I will raise you to the station you should have been born to. I would raise you now but…”

“You esteem me too highly, my King,” she said humbly, spreading her skirts as she dipped her head. “I have done little; those above me have done the true work. I stand tall only because I stand on the shoulders of the mighty.”

“Such humility,” he sighed. “So many want power. So many seek it out. But you, young woman, you refuse power and privilege while taking on greater and greater responsibility. That by itself marks you for greatness. Now, come, sit,” he said, gesturing to a lightly laden table. “Refresh yourself and tell me of the progress at Duro. Are we on schedule?”

“Ahead of it, actually,” she said, taking a seat. She murmured her thanks to the servant who brought her spiced wine and sipped at it. Selecting a few pieces of fruit and cheese from the table, she nibbled at them as she gave her report. Kael’thas watched her eat with delight. Something in his gaze reminded her of the way Mir’el and Jez’ral had hovered over her when she was ill. “Since we happened on a way to handle the fluctuations in the vortices, we’ve been able to step up production by one hundred percent. As we no longer have to deal with Netherspawn dropping in on us unexpectedly, we can dedicate our full resources to the harvest. I have written out our procedures to the letter and sent them on to Ara, Coruu, and B’naar. Hopefully, if my calculations and speculations are correct, we will avoid another Ultris altogether and can speed up the harvest greatly.”

“My advisers and magisters have looked over your calculations and find them to be sound,” he whispered absently, his fey gaze studying her features minutely. “They find you to be rather…advanced for one who has not yet seen the change of thirty springs. Tell me, young Dawnrunner, is Darkweaver your father? I know many have said you have Tal’ar Dawnrunner’s spirit and determination, but your raw talent…”

“Tal’ar Dawnrunner was my father,” she said firmly, “he was the only man my mother ever took to her bed. His death…,” she sighed, remembering the day news had come 300

of her father’s death. “His death killed my mother,” she said faintly. For years, she had hated her mother for dying and leaving her alone in the world. She hastily blinked back tears as she realized she understood why her mother had given up. If word reached her of Ger’alin’s death, she would… “Enough about me, my Lord,” she said firmly. “Production will increase at Duro,” she promised. “We will wring every ounce of power out of the Twisting Nether as quickly as we can. The Sunwell must shine once more!”

“It must and it will,” he agreed. “You may withdraw and go to your rest. Would you like me to appoint a second to attach to Duro? Rumor has reached my ears that you work two out of three shifts.”

“I do only what I must, my Lord. And, there are no others to send. The butcher’s bill at Ultris ran too high,” she whispered, making her courtesies once more. Kael’thas nodded to her and made a gesture of dismissal. Alayne quickly strode out of his chambers and all but ran to her own. “Light help me,” she thought as tears streamed down her cheeks once she reached the privacy of her own rooms. “Ger’alin…,” she croaked, wracked with sobs, “I have to speed up production! I have to! The Sunwell must be restored before he… It must be,” she said, forcing a halt to her weeping. Tossing a cloak around her shoulders, she glanced at the bed and shook her head. Striding back out into the hallway, she headed back towards Manaforge Duro, determined to see more increases in productivity if she had to fight back half of the denizens of the Twisting Nether alone. ~*~*~*~ “A remarkable child,” Kael’thas said to himself as he watched the young Dawnrunner trot out of his quarters.

“A rare child of many talents,” Capernian agreed as she ducked in from the study.

“Telonicus has never been so overjoyed. Few of our people are able to see how to combine technology and magic as she is. I think he’d adopt her himself were she not past her majority.”

“Yes,” Kael’thas murmured slowly. “She is a woman of many talents. Still, why does she claim to be a Dawnrunner? With such talent in shadow magic, certainly she is Darkweaver’s daughter. I never bought the story that Miris Daystar fell for Tal’ar Dawnrunner and ran off with him because Mir’el was…eccentric.”

“The Darkweaver line is noted for its eccentricity and insanity,” the High Astromancer replied as she poured out a glass of wine for herself and her king. “Perhaps she feared you would believe her tainted with her father’s touch of madness. Nether knows that Baron Bor’in was not the most stable of all people. Besides, I think I remember hearing something about that young woman falling ill with a plague of insanity or some such not terribly long ago.” Kael’thas quirked his eyebrows in interest. “It was only a rumor that came along with some of the pilgrims a year ago. Some wild tale about a plague of madness afflicting some of our people in Quel’Thalas. I remember hearing that an Alayne Dawnrunner was numbered among them.”

“Then she has recovered remarkably well,” the lord of the sin’dorei muttered, pressing his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. “How old do you believe she is? Past her first sunchange?”

“Nearing it, more likely than not,” Capernian said, blushing slightly. Some things she still found difficult to discuss in mixed company, even when it was her king.

“Telonicus has a nephew, I believe,” Kael continued thoughtfully. “He is currently working with our allies in Hellfire Peninsula, helping to learn how to better control our new powers. I believe I will arrange a marriage between the pair. With her raw potential and his native talents – not to mention his enhancements, of late – their children will be our future.

301

Inform Telonicus,” he said, his tone direct. “Afterwards, meet me on the Bridge. If young Dawnrunner’s calculations prove correct, we will be ready to begin the next phase of our plan well before I had ever hoped we would. We had best be prepared to move quickly.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne nodded off, barely catching herself from falling face-first onto her desk. She ignored Mordenai’s non-stop orations on how she should get herself to bed. The figures on the page before her danced and wavered before her grainy eyes. “Have to set up a shielding,” she whispered to no one. “Otherwise the polarity of the standing weave here will react with the resonance caused by the channelers’ harmonic frequencies. Whole thing could go splat then,” she said, scribbling down her thoughts. “This will let us increase production another five-fold.” Blinking, she realized what she’d done. “Five-fold! We could be back in Silvermoon within two weeks!” she shouted. “I have to inform my Lord Sunstrider,” she gasped, standing up from the desk. She grabbed at her notes, balling them up in her fists and staggering wearily out of the office. “Sam’vah,” she slurred, surprised to see him still attending his duties at the forge. “Your shift ended hours ago. You should not be wearing yourself out,” she said sternly, drawing herself up into a modicum of command.

“You’re not in your rooms?” he said, sounding stunned. “My Lady Alayne, what have you been doing in there? King Sunstrider ordered that you be allowed to rest undisturbed after your last suggestion increased production by a further fifty-percent. He’s set guards on your room to see that you are not disturbed. We thought you were resting. Light, how long have you been awake?”

“Not long,” she said smoothly. “I’m quite well-rested. I must speak with our King immediately,” she continued, unable to hide her excitement. Waving the papers she held in her fists, she carried on, her voice picking up steam. “I have hit upon a method that will allow us to widen the rifts while maintaining their stability. We’ll see easily a five-fold increase in productivity with this new method. And stop calling me that!”

“That’s wonderful,” Sam’vah laughed, “but you are not going anywhere near our King until you’re less likely to pitch over in his lap and begin babbling about candied trolls dancing. Oh yes, my Lady, we know all about your little idiosyncrasy.”

“Sam’vah,” she growled.

“You are my Lady whether you like it or not,” he said pleasantly. “And you are going to go take a nap. And a wash,” he giggled. “You’ve got ink stains in your hair, my Lady.”

“I give up,” she said, throwing her hands in the air but still clutching the sheets of paper. “I’ll go clean up then I want you to arrange for me to speak with our King. He’ll want to know of this right away.”

“My Lady, all you have to do is walk up to his doors. He said himself that you had no need of such formalities with him any longer. But please rest, Alayne,” he pleaded. “All of us want to see the Sunwell restored but you can’t keep using yourself so hard. You’ll burn yourself out and you’re not even twenty-five. You’re not one of the felbloods who has enhanced endurance and strength,” he shivered. “That honor – if you can call it that – has not been granted those of us working in the manaforges.”

“Because we need perfect clarity of thought,” she explained. “I myself, along with Lord Telonicus, helped convince King Sunstrider of the necessity of leaving us unchanged.”

Not to mention that I’d die before I drank demon blood, she said, keeping the last thought to herself.

“Promise me that you’ll sleep tonight instead of working,” Sam’vah said, taking her shoulders in his hands and forcing her to look up at him. “I know you normally take evening and night shift but you’ve been in there for three days! Three days it’s been since I last 302

escorted you to speak with our king and you spoke of your idea for speeding up production.

You were supposed to be resting this whole time,” he chided. “You’re going to get me in trouble. Besides, there’s some feast in a few hours and I’m sure you’ll be invited.”

“Oh please,” she groaned. “I’m not going to any silly party. I will skip the evening shift but I’ll be here for tonight’s third shift. No, Sam’vah, I’m not going to go to a party while there is work to be done. I’ll celebrate the rest of my days when the Sunwell is restored.

All of us will,” she promised. “I’ll have a huge party and I’ll even cook for it. You’d like that.

My husb…my friends say I’m a great cook,” she grimaced, berating herself for that slip of the tongue. “I do need sleep,” she sighed. “After I’ve spoken with our Lord.” Sam’vah let his hands drop with a roll of his eyes. Nodding firmly, Alayne strode out of the manaforge, ignoring the shocked stares that followed in her wake.

“You should listen to him,” Mordenai said angrily along the bond. “Your weariness is making me tired! Get some rest, Alayne. You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up.”

“Be quiet,” she said, muttering the words aloud as well as thinking them in her exhaustion. A Blood Knight guard, his hair the same color as Ger’alin’s, looked at her in confusion. She gave him a gesture of apology, flushing furiously, as she continued towards the coop where her personal mount – a gift from Telonicus and Kael – nested. Climbing aboard the phoenix’s back, she whispered the incantation that lifted the enchantment and allowed it to fly. Straight as an arrow, it soared through the air, headed towards Tempest Keep. Though the flight lasted only moments, Alayne found herself nearly falling out of her saddle, jerking awake with a start of pure fright until she realized she had landed safely at the entrance to the keep. Handlers hastened over, whispering their own incantations and helping her off the bird’s back. She was forced to let them. Between her weariness and her fright over nearly falling asleep while flying, Alayne’s legs felt like rubber. She sighed as she realized that she was tired. Beyond tired, in fact. “I cannot speak with him like this,” she whispered to herself. “I’d trip over my words and fall asleep the moment I sat down. But…I can’t wait,” she said, torn by indecision. “I’ll wash off and that should perk me up a bit. A cup of tea would help as well. Then, I will sleep; once he’s heard my proposal and once it’s on its way to the others so that we can hasten ourselves along.”

“Please sleep!” Mordenai pleaded.

“I will!” she snapped. Glancing around, she sighed in relief when she saw that no one stood in the corridors to hear her talking to herself. Brushing past the stunned guards before the door to her quarters, she locked the door behind herself and began disrobing and washing mechanically, telling herself over and over again that she would sleep – briefly – after she’d spoken with Kael. Donning fresh robes and feeling slightly more awake after her ablutions, Alayne sat down to change her boots.

A loud banging on the door nearly made her jump out of her skin. “Wha?” she muttered thickly, wondering how she’d wound up on the floor. Pushing herself up and scrambling to her feet, she wiped drool from her chin and cheek and hoped that her hair wasn’t too mussed up from her nap on the floor. Long slanted shadows from the windows told her it was early evening. She had sat down to put on her boots at mid-morning. Opening the door, Alayne prepared to take the head off of whoever had woken her. Now that she’d had a taste of sleep, she wanted to make a meal of it.

“My Lady Dawnrunner,” one of Kael’thas’s personal guards said, his sonorous voice ringing down the hallway. “I have the pleasure of escorting you to a feast held in your honor this evening. It would please King Sunstrider to have you attend to him immediately before the festivities begin.”

“May I have a moment to prepare myself to attend my lord and king?” she asked dumbly, wondering how she would get out of this banquet without getting herself into hot water. The guard nodded and she closed the door, leaning against it and trying to catch her 303

breath. “He really means me to attend tonight,” she said breathlessly, thinking back to the several feasts, dinners, and small parties she’d managed to skip out on or leave early. Since bringing the Vials to him and since proving herself a capable and dedicated commander, Kael’thas had insisted on making certain all his followers knew that one of Voren’thal’s younglings had not only returned to the flock; but that one of his most promising younglings was among those who had “seen the light.” Giving herself a shake, Alayne quickly ran a brush through her sleep-matted hair, washed the traces of sleep away from her face, and straightened her robes. Slipping on her satin slippers instead of the normal boots she wore, she threw a shawl around her shoulders against the chill of the late evening air and opened the door. The guards stood at attention, waiting for her patiently. She locked the door quickly behind her and strode after them, her heart pounding as something in the back of her mind told her that this would be more than just a dinner party.

“Ah, my dear Alayne,” Kael’thas said warmly when she was conducted into the small sitting room that led into his private quarters. “Are you quite rested, child? I heard that you had been back down to Duro even though I had given you permission to take a few days to rest. Sam’vah said you had something you wished to speak with me and Telonicus about. Is it another way to improve efficiency?” he smiled, his eyes twinkling with delight.

“Indeed it is, my Lord,” she said, spreading her skirts and dipping low. “I…I left the diagrams and equations in my chambers but…”

“Hold that thought for a moment, my dear,” he chuckled. “Ran’ar, fetch Telonicus.

Anything the Lady Dawnrunner suggests is something he wants to hear.”

Alayne tried not to fidget while the guards hurried to find and bring Telonicus. She did not have to wait long; the Master Engineer and elf behind most of the great machinery that would help to restore the Sunwell all but ran into the room a few moments later.

“Telonicus,” Kael grinned, “our Lady Dawnrunner may have come up with a way to wring yet more production out of our manaforges. Go ahead, my dear. Let us hear your suggestions.”

Taking a deep breath, Alayne quickly outlined her thoughts and, taking a quill and parchments from Kael’s table, sketched out a few rough diagrams and equations. Telonicus frowned thoughtfully and peered over her shoulder as she scribbled, interrupting her only to point out potential problems or suggest a method with a touch more finesse. By the time she had finished, he was staring at her, his expression a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and awe.

“It will work,” he said finally. “Instead of a month, we can begin transporting our forces now because we’ll be ready in two weeks at the most.”

“Then see that the transport begins first thing tomorrow morning. Tonight, I want these new procedures sent out to the forges and I want them operational by tomorrow evening,” Kael’thas said, his voice carrying the certainty of a command that would be carried out. “For now, let us add this to our many reasons to celebrate this night.”

“My Lord,” Alayne began, dipping deeply and praying she would find the words to get her out of this feast. Her message delivered, she wanted nothing more than to climb into her bed and try to pretend Ger’alin was next to her. “I ask that I be excus…”

“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “This feast is in your honor. You are the sun, the guest of honor, the reason for the celebration. You have managed to head off every one of my attempts to elevate you to your proper stature since shortly after you arrived. You will partake of these festivities tonight, my child,” he sighed. “Your humility is most becoming. But please, my dear, let us honor you this night. Never before has one so young done so much for our people. You have become a symbol of hope and achievement among the others. That is why I have raised you to your proper station. As a noble, it is your duty to show yourself to the people, to set the example they need, and to let them bask in the glow of your accomplishments. Do not hide yourself behind the clouds, my young Dawnrunner. Step out 304

of them and shine down as you were born to. It is your duty now. But first, a small gift from your grateful lord and king,” he grinned, plucking a blood red rosebud from his pocket.

“Wear this tonight. Behind your right ear,” he explained when she took it from him and held it between her thumb and forefinger. Doing as directed, she tucked the long stem behind her ear and wove it beneath her hair. Kael’thas nodded in satisfaction and, offering her his arm, escorted her out of his sitting room and down to the grand hall for the feast. ~*~*~*~ Alayne struggled to stay awake through the waits between courses. She also struggled not to be sick every time she saw Telonicus’s nephew out of the corner of her eye. Ordinarily Van’gri would have been an extraordinarily handsome elf. Normally, his long black hair was pulled up in a top-knot that flowed down his shoulders and back. Normally, his skin was clear with just a hint of red from his time channeling fel magic. Normally, his shoulders and arms were slim but well-muscled, speaking of a wiry strength and agility. Now, however, since his transformation, Alayne tried to ignore the heat she could feel emanating from the man. His smile was stretched into a rictus that was supposed to be a grin, his skin dark and ruddy, red on the verge of purpling. He had let his hair down, binding it out of his eyes with a decorated band. Alayne wished he’d let it fall into his face and obscure his eyes. The burned like emerald fire. His whole body looked swollen to her, engorged by the power that came from drinking demon blood. She shuddered whenever her gaze fell on him. Whenever she shuddered, his grin would deepen. The way he gazed at her possessively was feral, fel, and frightening.

“My honored guests,” King Sunstrider said, rising from his seat at the center of the table. Alayne took a deep breath and concentrated on his words, wishing she could ask for tea in place of wine. “I have called you here tonight to celebrate a very special occasion and to make a few important announcements. Several weeks ago, Lady Dawnrunner saw the error of her ways and joined our cause, bringing with her the two Vials of Eternity which we lacked.

She also brought the gift of a nether dragon mount which I will cherish forever,” he smiled at her. “She is quite young – barely past her majority – and yet, in a few weeks, she and Telonicus have managed to work out new production methods and ratchet up the efficiency of our manaforges several fold. For her hard work and dedication, I created her Lady Dawnrunner, Baroness of Tranquillien. Once we have, with much help from her, restored the Sunwell and our people’s proper glory, she will attain yet a higher rank,” he announced, lifting his hands to request silence from the startled murmurs that had sprung up. “My Lady Dawnrunner, would you please step forward?” he asked politely. Alayne blinked and nodded, folding her napkin and setting it on the table and standing up to walk before him, confusion and uncertainty plain on her face. “My Lord Sunfury?” he asked, gesturing towards Van’gri.

The felblood elf stood up and, smirking, slunk over to her, a knowing grin on his face. “As Telonicus is my cousin – albeit a distant relation – and his nephew Van’gri a member of House Sunstrider, I have conferred with your guardian, Lord Darkweaver, and received his blessing to offer your hand in marriage to a member of my House,” Kael’thas explained to Alayne. “Once the Sunwell is restored and our people returned to their proper glory, you will become Countess Sunfury. Your children will be fifth in line to the throne of Quel’Thalas.

Now, you two may embrace before these witnesses, in symbol of the union that will take place once the Sunwell shines again.”

Alayne stared dumbly at her king, shivering when she cast a wary gaze at Van’gri.

“My Lord,” she said breathlessly, her lungs feeling as if twin iron fists had squeezed all of the air out of them, “you esteem me too highly. I have done only what is necessary and only what I am able to do. You need not dilute the purity of your House and Line with peasant blood. I 305

am…most gratefully aware of the high honor you are bestowing upon this unworthy subject but I cannot…”

“Nonsense,” Van’gri cut in, flashing what he imagined to be a becoming and charming smile. “The blood in our line has grown thin. Your blood will restore it. I am eager to take you to wife, my dear. Do not refuse me this rare privilege,” he said, his eyes roving over her rakishly.

“My Lord,” she protested, her voice so faint the pair struggled to hear it, “forgive me, but I cannot marry…”

“I know, I know,” Kael’thas laughed lightly. “You cannot marry now. There is work to be done. I have heard you say that many times, milady. Your wedding will not occur until after the Sunwell is restored. However, it will occur. Lord Darkweaver has signed the contract of marriage on your behalf. You cannot back out now, my dear.” Pitching his voice low and leaning down to whisper into her ear, he continued, “Van’gri will not be a bad husband. And, though you may not love him now, I’m certain you will come to, eventually.

Now embrace,” he said, his tone carrying throughout the room. “Embrace and then we will finish our feast with rejoicing.”

Alayne glanced awkwardly at the man Kael’thas had arranged for her to marry. He was still grinning at her slyly, hungrily. Stepping up to her, he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. Dimly, she could hear cheers and applause when he pulled her face up and pressed his lips against hers. Kael’thas said something congratulatory but she did not hear it as weariness, hopelessness, and panic washed over her, darkening her vision.

“That must have been some kiss,” he muttered to Van’gri as Alayne collapsed in a heap at the man’s feet. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a woman actually faint like that.”

“Carry on the feast without us, my Lord,” Van’gri chuckled. Kael shook his head, knowing what his cousin was about. “I’ll just go and tuck my wife-to-be in. After all, looking after her is my first duty, now.”

“As you will, Lord Sunfury,” Kael’thas said by way of dismissal. “As you both will.” ~*~*~*~ “Not another word,” Zerith growled between clenched teeth. “I’ve had it up to here with this foolishness,” he muttered, raising his hand over his head.

“We’ll stop, we’ll stop,” Dar’ja giggled. “You have to admit, it is pretty funn…” his glare made her swallow her words. “Very well.”

“You are taking this surprisingly well, though,” Callie commented. “I mean, most men would… Right, shutting up.”

“I don’t know why I let myself get talked into staying here to continue this wild dragonhawk chase,” the priest sighed heavily. “We should have reported to the Scryer spy camp in the Netherstorm yesterday. Maybe she’s out there. Maybe they’ve found her and she’s under arrest. She could be needing us right now.”

“And maybe those lights on the horizon are just really large fireflies, Queen Zerith,” Ger’alin said mildly, making Zerith jump and then stare daggers at the paladin. “I must say, I am looking forward to the coronation. If the Scryers had found her, my Lady Queen, we would have heard about it already.”

“One more word,” Zerith hissed. “Just one more word and I will…”

“Oh don’t get your ermine undies in a bunch, my Queen,” Ger’alin continued. “It was funny and you know it. Find what humor you can while you can. She’s going to laugh until her sides split.”

306

“She is going to owe me a debt for the rest of her life. I’m thinking that she is never going to take a vacation because she’s going to be watching my children all the time. And cleaning the house from top to bottom everyday.”

“And cooking you a seven course meal twice a day,” Ger’alin said, turning to grin over his shoulder at the priest. “Don’t leave out the best part of her punishment, O Lovely Queen Zerith.”

Zerith snorted and started giggling. “I suppose it is amusing. They are rather stupid, aren’t they?”

“And stinky and uncivilized and able to brew up an ale that will put some hair on your chest, Queenie,” Ger’alin agreed. “I cannot believe I am actually going to walk into the midst of ogres and not fight them.”

“I’m starting to wish I’d let you kill that one we found,” Zerith muttered. “This ‘queen Zerith’ business is really getting on my nerves. Sin’dorei cannot be the only ones who let their men grow their hair out long as a sign of adulthood. Humans do it as well. Even among dwarves it’s not uncommon.”

“Orcs tend to be bald,” Ger’alin pointed out. “Ogres too. That’s why he thought you were a woman. Still, I must ask,” he said, sounding earnest, “was that kiss as good for you as it seemed to be for him? Just curious,” he wondered, forcing his expression to remain innocent when Zerith’s face turned red with rage and embarrassment. “It did drag on for quite some time. Dar’ja, you’re not worried, are you?” Dar’ja shook her head, clutching her sides as she laughed without breath.

“I am going to spank Alayne for doing this so that I ever got in that situation to begin with,” Zerith vowed.

“I wouldn’t do that were I you. It does tend to get her rather…warmed up.” Ger’alin said, deadpan. Zerith stared at the paladin, his face turning pale and his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out. “Light of heaven, Zerith, I’m kidding. Mostly. Zerith? Are you okay? Dar’ja, I think I broke your husband,” Ger’alin muttered, turning around and hurrying back to lift the priest off the ground. Zerith was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his cheeks and he was having trouble breathing.

“I just had the best mental picture of you doing that,” he gasped, “and of her sending one of her demons after you – that big fel guard of hers – and then you running all over creation while it was trying to spank you!” he guffawed. “Oh my,” he said long moments later when he finally began to sputter down. “Do that to me again and I’ll have to ask the High King to exile you.”

“How Queen doing?” an ogre asked, plodding up to the four. Zerith and Ger’alin both began laughing again, the paladin throwing his head back and letting his booming baritone chuckles ring throughout the canyon. Dar’ja tried to explain that Zerith was fine; the ogre’s expression was one of weighty concern and he looked as if he might gather the priest into his massive arms and carrying ‘their queen’ to safety. The thought of that set her to giggling so much she could barely make herself understood. Callie just chuckled, knuckling tears from her eyes and shaking her head.

“Dumber than a box of rocks,” she said when the ogre stomped back off, satisfied that his ‘queen’ was in good health and humor. Zerith’s laughter had finally wound down but Ger’alin’s continued. Callie lifted an eyebrow, seeing that the fighter’s face was no longer amused. Instead, it was contorted with near-hysteria. “Ger’alin, calm down,” she said quickly, walking over and grabbing him by a shoulder.

“Ger’alin?” Zerith asked, taking the man by the other shoulder. Ger’alin’s guffaws turned to sobs as he began shaking, the tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks becoming tears of panic and frustration. “Calm down, Ger’alin. What has you bouncing from one mood to the next like this? I thought I was supposed to be the woman here,” Zerith said, making 307

mock of himself. Dar’ja and Callie gave the priest even looks. Ger’alin buried his face on his knees and his hands in his hair, shaking all the while.

“I’ve got to find her,” he finally was able to say. His voice was hoarse as if he had not had a drop of water in years. “I’ve got to stop her from doing whatever it is she’s going to do. I can’t sleep anymore for worrying, for dreaming, that I’ll be too late!”

“Gerry, what are these dreams you’re having?” Callie asked solicitously. Ger’alin waved her off, trying to compose himself. “You’ll feel better if you talk about it,” she insisted.

“Leave him be,” Zerith said firmly. “Dar’ja, you and Callie go on with the others.

Make certain everyone is following the queen’s commands to the letter. We’ll be along in a minute when we’re calm.” Dar’ja and Callie stared at Zerith for a minute before nodding blankly and falling in with his wishes. Zerith made a mental note to remember that tone of voice and expression. Whatever it was, it had gotten them to obey him when they were more inclined to argue. “You okay?” he asked when Ger’alin seemed to have regained control of his emotions. “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” the paladin said flatly. “What I’d like to do is find the nearest source of arcane power and drown myself in it. Failing that, I’d like to get drunker than a sailor on leave.

Neither is possible, I know, I know,” he sighed. “But…I’ve got to find her.”

“We will.”

“No, not we. Me. I’ve got to find her. She’s calling out to me whether she knows it or not and I’ve got to be there or something dreadful will happen. Maybe it already has. Maybe I’m already too late what with the wallowing in my own self-pity. But, I’ve got to try still.”

Pushing himself to his feet, he stuck out a hand for Zerith. “C’mon, my Queen. We’re going to heaven to find an angel…I hope.” ~*~*~*~ “Oh no, not again,” Ger’alin groaned as the painfully familiar dreamscape coalesced around him. He blinked, realizing it was different this time but not quite able to put his finger on what was different about it. Ahead of him, Alayne stood, her figure shrouded in mists and shadows, weaving some kind of currents. The magic she wove made her dark outline glow against the fog. Ger’alin watched, fascinated, as a gentle, soul-warming peace began to flow towards him. A sensation barely remembered from his childhood tugged at him as the floor in front of his wife began to shimmer and shine. “The Sunwell,” he gasped. “Alayne, is that what you’re doing? Reigniting the Sunwell? But how? Alone you don’t have the power…I see,” he sighed, seeing three Vials appear around her. Dark, enigmatic figures held them, the trio channeling their own energies through the Vials and into the Sunwell. “I knew there was a reas… No!” he shrieked as he saw Zerith enter the dreamscape. The priest said something that made his sister turn and stare at him. “No, no, no, no, no!” Ger’alin pleaded. Suddenly, Zerith and Alayne began to move towards each other; the priest fumbling jerkily for his mace while Alayne’s hand twitched towards her dagger. Oddly enough, from the expressions on their faces, it seemed as if their bodies were moving against their wishes. Diabolical laughter rang in Ger’alin’s ears as he watched the pair continue to draw nearer each other, Alayne’s hand with the dagger rearing back, Zerith raising the mace high above his head. Their faces contorted with fear and anger as the laughter continued. Then, a flash of light that burned Ger’alin’s eyes like the heat of a hundred fires.

When he blinked, he saw Zerith face-down on the ground, blood pooling beneath him, his body still. Behind him lay Alayne. Ger’alin scrambled over the priest’s body, reaching for his wife. He shuddered, bile rising in his throat, when he saw the ghastly dent in her skull and her wide, staring eyes. Pulling them shut gently with his fingers, he smoothed her hair back, 308

hiding the horrible wound. Careless of the gore staining his hands, he wiped them on his tabard and gently stroked her face. “Alayne, why? Why does this happen? Tell me, please, someone, anyone!” he pleaded. “Why do you keep tormenting me with visions of their deaths? Of her death?”

Silence was his only response.

“Why? What can be done to prevent this? Light help me, what is it you want of me?”

“Just wake up already,” Zerith growled. “We’re never going to find her if you lay in bed all morning.”

Ger’alin’s eyes popped open and he jerked back from the priest, startled to see the man alive and well. “Just another dream,” the Blood Knight muttered when the priest stared at him, his eyes asking the question. “I’ll be out in a moment. I just need a few minutes.”

Zerith nodded and left the tent. Callie ducked in as the priest ducked out, making Ger’alin dive back under the covers and mutter about needing a few moments’ warning before she entered like that.

“Get over it. You’re not my type,” she grinned roguishly. “Not nearly enough hair on your chest, for one thing. And, you blush like I would have when I was alive. I just wanted to let you know that there’s a runner from the Scryers in the camp. He had an urgent message for Zerith about something going on in the Netherstorm. I just told Dar’ja and she was waiting for Zerith to finish getting you out of bed to tell him.”

“We can’t stop looking for her,” Ger’alin muttered, his voice muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. Pulling his long hair out of the neck of his shirt, he ran his fingers through it to straighten the tangles and then tied it back at the base of his head. “I thought we’d found a good lead last night near those glowing energy creatures. A trail of arcane energies that put me in mind of what I sensed back in Nagrand,” he explained.

“Well, the runner was pretty upset that we haven’t already started towards Netherstorm. He said something about them needing every hand they can find. I think Kael’s up to something big now. We may not have time to continue looking for Alayne,” she said gently, trying to break the news to her friend. “As important as it is we find her, stopping the Legion is more important.”

“I have to find her. That is the one thing I know almost as well as I understand that forgiveness was a gift to me that I will spend the rest of my life repaying. I can’t let what I see happening…”

“Gerry, they’re just dreams,” she sighed. “It’s probably just that you’re worried sick about her. She’s probably safe and sound in some cave somewhere reading Light-knows-how many books and scrolls while staring at those Vials all day. Surely she’d be cautious in using them,” Callie added, seeing the man’s face pale. “She’s a student of magic, right? She’d know to be careful with things like that. They can attract demons and even if she’s a warlock now…”

Ger’alin scowled at Callie. Something she’d said had jogged his memory a tad but then he’d lost it. “All I know is that I have to find her first.” Callie threw her hands up in the air in defeat and ducked out of the tent while Ger’alin stamped his feet into his boots. Settling his chain shirt on over his cotton shirt, he slipped his tabard over his head, belted on his sword, and decided to leave his helm behind for now. He straightened his clothing before he left the tent, recalling all the times in Desolace when Alayne would stop him from leaving until she’d settled everything on him just so. “You may not have been my woman then but you certainly did act the part. The less pleasant parts, that is,” he whispered fondly. With a sigh, he left his tent and glanced around for this runner Callie had mentioned. “Demons,” he muttered, wondering why that seemed to jostle something in his mind. “A student of magic.

We certainly could have used her lately. I wonder what’s behind all the strange things Zerith’s been seeing.”

309

“We can rendezvous with you in a few days,” Zerith was saying to the messenger as Ger’alin walked up. “We still have business here in Blade’s Edge that we cannot abandon just yet.” The messenger snorted but said nothing. “Why the sudden urgency? Has Kael uncovered some of your infiltrators?”

“No,” the messenger said, his lips taut and his jaw clenched. “We just need more numbers. Something is going on over there and we need to be prepared to launch an attack at any moment. We’re working on a way to shut down those forges but that blasted Lady Dawnrunner has procedures set in place to prevent just that. Apparently, no forges are to be halted without her personal insignia and some key she’s been given from Kael himself.”

“If nothing has changed, then our plans will not either,” Zerith said firmly. “We’re your allies, not your attendants. From now on, I’d appreciate a little respect when you come into my camp,” he growled. “And if you tell me you’re old enough to be my father, I will have the High King of the Ogres toss you down that ridge so hard you bounce thrice off of every rock.” Ger’alin blinked; he’d never heard the priest get so annoyed so quickly. The messenger bowed sarcastically and began to stride off, muttering beneath his breath.

“Let’s go,” Zerith said before Ger’alin could open his mouth. “The sooner we can find Alayne and spirit her away, the better. As it is, I’m not entirely certain we shouldn’t be running for the Netherstorm now. Something is brewing,” he sighed, his ears laying flat against his head. Ger’alin nodded slowly. Even he could sense the arcane energies dancing in the air around them. It took all of his willpower not to drink them in. “Let’s go.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin rubbed his eyes wearily and let himself collapse in the shade of a boulder. He wished he could take his boots off and rub his sore feet. Next to him, he heard and felt Zerith topple down to the ground, cursing about his own thin boots. “I’m going to borrow Dar’ja’s leather ones next time,” the priest muttered sullenly.

“Your feet really will hurt then,” Ger’alin quipped. “Dar’ja’s feet are about half the size of yours. You should go on back to the camp, Zerith. I’ll stay out here looking for…Zerith?” he asked, seeing the priest’s face pale and his jaw drop.

“We’ve been looking all over for you!” Zerith shouted, leaping to his feet. He shuddered at the pain shooting up his legs but began running back into the baking heat of the sun. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Mirage,” Ger’alin sighed. “I think we didn’t bring enough water,” he muttered to himself as he hopped up and followed the priest. “Zerith, where are you going?”

“Alayne, wait! Don’t go in there! Those birdmen are mad!”

“Zerith, she’s not there,” Ger’alin said, jogging up to the priest and grabbing him by the shoulders. “She’s not…Alayne?” he asked, agog at seeing the woman in front of him.

“Alayne, please, don’t go!”

The warlock continued to retreat, running through the forest soundlessly. Ger’alin and Zerith jogged after her, calling out for her to stop running, promising that they weren’t angry and would see her to safety. Finally, after an hour of chasing after her and losing her in the trees and undergrowth, the men staggered to a halt, out of breath. “When did she get in such good shape?” Zerith panted. “We should have caught up to her by now.”

Ger’alin nodded wearily, sniffing the air. The odor of arcane magic that he’d sensed in Nagrand struck him like a blow. “She wasn’t here to begin with,” he muttered. “This was another one of those illusions.”

“Why would someone try to trick us into thinking she’s here?” Zerith asked. Ger’alin shrugged. “You keep saying someone’s using illusions on us. Why?”

310

“I don’t know. It may be that someone doesn’t want us to find her. Here’s what I suggest,” he sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead and forcing himself to stand upright.

“We’ll move camp to this forest. If she’s here, we should find her in the next day or two. If not…there’s still plenty of mountains to explore here before we move on.”

“But I promised the Scryers we would…”

“Then take the others and meet with them in Netherstorm,” Ger’alin said flatly. “I can stay here and look for her myself.” Zerith shook his head. “I can do it, Zerith. I’ve recovered much of my strength and stamina since my…illness.”

“Let’s just…let’s just search this forest for now. I’ll have to decide what to do if we don’t find her.” Diving back into the thickness of the forest, the priest began calling out frantically for his sister. Ger’alin sighed and growled in frustration when the sense of the arcane brushed against him again and Zerith began hollering that he’d spotted Alayne.

“What is going on here and why?” the Blood Knight wondered as he and the priest continued their futile search. ~*~*~*~ “I just had the strangest dream, Ger’alin,” Alayne murmured thickly as she rubbed her head. “You’ll never believe it…”

“I must admit,” Vangri grinned, “it is somewhat incredible for a commoner to marry royalty but who is this ‘Ger’alin?’”

Alayne bolted upright, clutching the sheets to her chest. Wide eyes scanned her room.

Blinking to adjust them to the darkness, she finally found Vangri, a massive shadow with burning green eyes sitting in the chair in the corner. “My Lord,” she said breathlessly.

“Oh please,” he sighed, gesturing. “We’re engaged. Vangri will do.”

“My Lord, I cannot marry you.”

“In love with another?” he asked mildly. She nodded. “Well, I must admit that as attractive as you are to me, you aren’t exactly the woman of my dreams either.” Alayne gave a guilty start at the word ‘dreams’ but said nothing. “You’ll find me a most gracious and accommodating husband,” he continued. “You will, of course, lack for nothing. I do expect you to live up to the Sunfury name and uphold my house’s honor. Beyond that, as long as it’s not obvious that you’ve cuckolded me, I’ll consider any children born to your bed my own.

Please don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “If you think I didn’t sow my wild oats before you were even born… I’ll bid you good night, my dear, this once. In the future, I will expect a warmer welcome. Perhaps I can put this Ger’alin fellow out of your mind? It will be…interesting either way,” he smirked before leaving her room. “Commoners,” he thought to himself. “She should be thrilled beyond imagining at the mere thought of bedding me, let alone wedding me.”

Alayne watched him go, proud that she was able to stifle the sobs that wanted to climb from her throat and that she had mastered the shivers. The thought of that demon-blood drinker touching her shriveled her flesh. Actually touching him herself? She shuddered, feeling bile rise in the back of her mouth. Lurching out of the bed, she gripped the chamber pot firmly while her stomach emptied itself. “How am I going to get out of this one?” she wondered.

“The wedding won’t take place until after the Sunwell is restored,” Mordenai reminded her, making her jump with fright. She’d forgotten he could read her thoughts and could hear what transpired around her, even if she was unconscious. “By then, it won’t really be an issue, will it?” he asked softly, sounding sad.

“No, it won’t. But still…I don’t want him thinking that I ever even entertained the thought of…”

311

“He won’t. I’ll make certain of that.”

“No, I will,” she said, lighting a candle and stalking over to her desk. Pulling out her journal, she tore several blank pages from it and let the words pour out of her. Words of pleading, words of forgiveness, words begging for that very thing, words of comfort and consolation. Promises to look after them all from afar. Explanations she was certain they’d never understand but facts they would have to accept. By the time she was finished, dawn was lightening the long shadows in her room. Sealing the letter with her personal insignia, a sun rent in twain by dark lightning – something she’d once seen at Mir’el’s house that had struck her fancy – she wrote Mir’el’s name on the outside. Knowing he would read it and know who it was intended for, she sighed. “I’ve done what I had to do. You must understand that. All of you must! Ger’alin, Zerith, Vangri, Kael… The Sunwell is our only cure. Once that is done, the rest…”

“I’m not so certain of that as I was once,” Mordenai whispered. “Forgive me for adding to your troubles, Alayne, but I’ve been watching these felbloods. I don’t believe there is a cure for fel addiction. Not when it’s reached this stage of advancement. Even if you did restore the Sunwell – and I truly believe you will! Your plan will work! – even if you do, it may not help them the way you hope. Perhaps the price you’re willing to pay is no longer worth…”

“It is,” she said coldly. “Whether it works or not. I’ve known since before I left Shadowmoon that blood would be the price. As long as it flows from my own veins, from my own heart, I am willing to make that sacrifice. Now, Mordenai, please give me some privacy.

I…I need to come up with a schedule that will let me keep Vangri out of my chambers until the end has come.”

“Just remember to sleep once every third day, at least,” Mordenai sighed. “Otherwise, you may not make it to your own grand finale.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and tucked his hands behind his head. A full three days searching the ridge up here in what the ogres called ‘ogre heaven’ and they’d seen no sign of Alayne.

Merely some of those strange creatures they’d found around Oshu’gun so many weeks ago.

“Light, it seems like forever ago when all I had to worry about was whether or not Ger’alin was doing something stupid with that ‘spirit journey’ business.”

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Dar’ja asked softly as she crawled onto the pallet next to him. “My feet are killing me.”

“I’m tired,” he sighed. “I can barely sleep anymore for having strange dreams that warn me to stay off her trail. Ger’alin says it’s magic and I’m starting to believe him. But mostly, I’m tired of forever looking for Alayne. Why does she do this? How’s Ger’alin holding up? He seemed almost crushed that those lights were from those weird creatures and not Alayne conducting some kind of experiment up here. I wish we could find her. Maybe she would know who’s behind all these illusions I keep seeing.”

“He’s asleep,” she replied, rolling over and propping herself up so he could see her face. Idly, he lifted one of his hands and began rubbing his thumb over her cheek. “He’s out cold. Not even babbling. Callie says he only sleeps so soundly when he is really upset about something. Well, she’s not up here. What are we going to do now?”

“The only thing we can do. Head over to the Netherstorm and begin looking there.

Pray to the Light that she’s safe and hidden there and hasn’t been found by Kael’s followers.”

“And if she has and Kael’s got the Vials now?” Dar’ja asked softly.

“Then that’s just another reason to go along with the Scryers and try to get to her before they do,” he said firmly. “I’m so tired I can’t even sleep,” he whined. “I’m going to 312

take a walk.” Dar’ja nodded and rolled on her side, letting him sit up. “I…still have no idea how I’m going to keep her safe when we do find her. She’s stirred up so many people against her with these stunts. How am I going to keep her head on her shoulders or her back unscarred?” Dar’ja shrugged helplessly, wishing she had the answers. “And there’s no place she can run. We can’t return to Silvermoon; if it comes out that we’ve stood against Kael, we’ll all be in prison. Thrall will harbor us but who honestly wants to live in the desert?

Some of the tauren may take pity on us but there’s not many places close to Mulgore and I don’t want to become a hermit.”

“Neither do I. Alayne and Ger’alin might not mind it, though,” Dar’ja sighed.

“I know but I want my family close. Call me selfish but I’ve lost one family already.

I’m not willing to give up this one.” With a huffing sigh of frustration, he pushed himself to his feet. “I need to clear my head. I need to wear myself out so that I’ll sleep. Don’t wait up on me, Dar’ja. I’ll be back when I’m ready for bed.” He grinned when she nodded sleepily, her eyes already dragging shut. She had had a busy day helping him search for sign of his sister without letting those strange glowing creatures know they were being observed. Zerith made a mental note to try to learn more from the ogres about these beings. Perhaps they could also become allies. Perhaps they would need to be watched. Perhaps he was thinking too much. He sighed and tried to clear his mind as he walked. Settling down on a boulder near the outskirts of the camp, he laid back and let the night sky fill his vision. None of the constellations he knew could be found. Instead, to pass the time and force his problems out of his thoughts, he began to invent new ones.

“That looks more like the Weaver than a wheel,” Callie said, startling Zerith out of his trance. The priest hadn’t realized he’d been speaking aloud. “You should go and get some sleep, Zerith. You’re tired and…”

“I’m so tired I can’t sleep,” he said wearily. “My mind just won’t let me fall under these last few nights. I can’t see how Ger’alin sleeps at all…”

“Training. Years of forcing himself to be able to fall asleep when he must rest. It’s a trick that soldiers learn,” she explained. “Otherwise, he’d be out here pacing like a restless tiger and growling like one too. When we finally find your sister, I’m going to have a robe woven out of itchweed and she will have to wear it one week for every day she’s made us worry. Oh, and a month for that attacking Shattrath business. She’d better have a great explanation for that one. Keeping her out of the boiling pot is going to take every last bit of creativity we have.”

Zerith grunted in agreement. He’d been close to falling asleep but Callie’s words had his mind racing again. Part of him wanted to tell her to go away. Part of him wanted to sit there and try to come up with a plan for how to find and keep his sister safe. “I’m going to go check on Ger’alin,” he said suddenly. Callie blinked at him in surprise as he sat up. “Ger’alin has a great mind for… okay, he’s not so great at this but I… I have some things I need to say to him,” Zerith muttered. “Things for his ears alone,” he added when it seemed Callie would follow him. Standing up, he groaned in frustration, pounding a fist against his thigh when he saw a runner, her tabard emblazoned with the Scryer’s crest, jogging into the camp. “Why oh why can’t they accept ‘we’ll be out there the day after tomorrow?’” he growled as he stormed over to her.

“Ah, Lightbinder,” she said coldly. “Just the man I wanted to see. We have…”

“We’ll leave for the Netherstorm tomorrow,” he cut her off. “I’ve told the others we would be just a few more days here taking care of personal affairs.”

“Well then,” she huffed, offended. “Perhaps you already know. Perhaps this is all just an elaborate delaying tactic to keep your dear little sister,” she sneered, “from being brought to justice. Lightbinder, you had best rouse your followers and come with me tonight if you want to keep yourselves from being exiled and considered enemies of Shattrath. No matter 313

what mumblings the naaru make, I don’t trust you. Especially since we found out that your sister is the one in charge of Manaforge Duro!”

“What?” Zerith asked, sounding as if the air had been knocked out of him. Callie grabbed his arm, steadying him. She helped him collapse to the ground in a heap. The priest stared up at the messenger dumbly. “That Lady Dawnrunner could be anyone. It’s not an uncommon name at all and Alayne married Sun…” “It’s her,” the messenger said between clenched teeth. “Our spies have confirmed it.

Several of the guards who saw her during the riots can state that the woman they saw and heard named as Alayne then is the same woman who is running Manaforge Duro.”

“That’s not…that’s not possible,” Zerith gasped. “She wouldn’t… she must have been captured and forced to work for Kael. That’s the only explanation!”

“Had she been captured, she’d have been sent to the Slave Pens or confined to Tempest Keep and tortured for information,” the runner said icily. “She’s in charge of the Manaforge! The guards bow to her. They obey her orders on the moment! She’s developed the methods that have sped up production by unbelievable amounts! She’s thrown her lot in with Kael and she is now at the top of our Most Wanted list, right below Kael’thas and his councilors!”

“But, but…” Zerith said, tears of heartbreak coming to his eyes. “There’s got to be an explanation. She wouldn’t just betray us…”

“She’s a warlock, after all,” the messenger replied pitilessly. “Perhaps she craved more power. That’s why she stole the Vial from Shattrath and ran off. Power. All of us who are addicted to the arcane know the craving for power. Among the shadow weavers, that craving can become an obsession. I’m sorry this hurts you so,” she said calmly, not sounding sorry at all, “but she’s joined the enemy. Rally your forces and join us in Netherstorm now.

That will be a step towards proving to Shattrath and the naaru that you really aren’t traitors like that sister of yours.” Turning on her heel, the messenger began loping back to the east, towards Netherstorm.

“So what now?” Callie asked quietly. Zerith gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. He stared at her for a long time, dumbfounded, his mind reeling from shock. “I…she wouldn’t betray us; not without a good reason. But…until we know what led her to this, we have to… Light, damn her!” Callie growled. “We’re trapped.

We can’t attack Kael while she’s numbered among his forces and we can’t hang back! What are we to do?”

“Ger’alin,” Zerith managed to finally get out. “Need to talk to him.” Callie nodded and helped the priest to his feet. “He should know… maybe… Light… she can’t have… the Vials… the Legion… I don’t believe it!” he shouted at last, drawing stares from across the camp. “Ger’alin will know something. I want to be the one to tell him. Just… leave me alone for a while,” he said at last. “I can’t think.” Callie raised her hands in surrender and jogged off, crouching near the bonfire and watching the priest carefully. She was ready to run and rouse the entire camp at his command. The other Forsaken eyed Zerith warily as well. He looked as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to block out their stares and tried to stifle the words ringing in his ears. “In command of a Manaforge. Light, I should have stayed in bed with Dar’ja. Alayne…what are you doing?” he whispered as he forced himself to his feet and staggered to Ger’alin’s tent. The man had a right to know that his wife had been found…even if it seemed she’d been found serving the enemy. “Especially if she’s been found serving the enemy,” Zerith muttered. “Oh Light, there has to be a reason! There has to be!” ~*~*~*~

314

“I’m coming for you, dearest,” he called out to Alayne. She stood shrouded in the mists of the too-familiar dreamscape. On his pallet, Ger’alin squirmed and thrashed, knowing he was dreaming and powerless to do anything to change the course of the dream or to wake himself up until it had played itself out. “Don’t,” he begged. “Don’t do this! This is… different,” he said, sounding surprised. The surroundings themselves were the same, blurred and indistinct. Only, instead of Alayne channeling, she walked slowly, with dignity, her shoulders square and her jaw set. As she continued her stately tread, elven attendants wearing tabards that proclaimed them servants of Kael’thas appeared along the path, bowing deeply to her. She acknowledged their reverence with a bare nod of her head, continuing on towards a dark doorway outlined in golden light. Ger’alin ran after her, frustrated that no matter how fast his legs pumped, he could never close the distance between them. “Alayne? Please, turn around and look at me!”

The scene shifted and suddenly Ger’alin saw his wife standing at the edge of a vast chasm. Her heels hung over the edge of the cliff; a gust of wind would push her over into the twisted nightmare-scape behind her. Chaos and destruction swirled behind her, demons flying about their native abode and cackling madly. “What…what is this?” he asked. Alayne seemed to see him for the first time, her eyes widening in shock. “Dearest, please, come back to me,” he pleaded. Her green eyes began to shimmer with unshed tears and a look of inexpressible sorrow filled her features. Ger’alin stretched out a hand for her to take, hoping to pull her back from the cliff. “Please, come away from there. Come back to us. Come back to me. Please,” he begged. “No!” he shrieked when, with a sigh, she leaned back, falling into the blackness. He ran to the edge of the cliff, staggering to a halt just short of falling over himself. Gazing down into the abyss, he saw nothing but the primordial darkness that had birthed the universe itself. “Alayne!”

“Only a fool tries to play the double agent against the might of the Legion!” he heard a deep devilish voice laugh. “See in her fate that which awaits all who refuse to flock to our banner!” The scene shifted again and Ger’alin saw a massive demon arising from a pool of pure golden light. Alayne lay on her side, motionless, before the pool, as the demon pulled himself out of it, his red-black wings flapping and his claws scratching and scorching the carpets around him. “Your world is mine!”

Ignoring the demon, Ger’alin ran to Alayne. “Light, please still be with me,” he prayed as he took her in his arms. The ghastly dent he’d hated seeing was not there but her eyes stared into the distance, seeing nothing. She looked as if the very life had been drained from her. Around the golden pool other sin’dorei fell likewise, drained as she was. Hearing a gut-wrenching scream of pain, Ger’alin looked up, surprised to see a human woman floating high above the pool. She shimmered and vanished in a flash of light and the demon pulled a leg out of the pool, planting it firmly on the ground. Ger’alin gaped at him, unable to move as the demon lifted an impossibly enormous fist to smash the paladin into the ground. Clutching his wife’s body to his chest, burying his face in her hair and his lips against her cheek, Ger’alin waited for the blow he would neither feel nor survive…

“Ger’alin, wake up,” he heard Zerith whisper softly, tiredly. Opening his eyes, Ger’alin shivered, recalling the dream. What did it portend? The proud Sunfury elves bending neck to a common-born woman? “Ger’alin, please, you need to hear this before it gets out around the camp.”

“She’s joined Kael’thas,” the Blood Knight said suddenly, the pieces falling into place. “She’s gone over to the ones who would summon the Legion upon all of us.”

“How did you…who told you…will you stop doing that!” Zerith said, sounding strangled. “How can you be so calm? Alayne’s been serving Kael’thas knowing that he is trying to summon Kil’jaeden into our homeland. How could she?”

“I don’t know,” Ger’alin said quietly, calmly. “All I know is I have to follow her.”

315

“Follow her? Into summoning the Legion? Are you mad?” Zerith growled. “No, I don’t care what dreams or omens you’ve had; we are not going to ally with Kael! I will never serve the Legion! We are going to get Alayne out of there and then…then I’m going to have answers from her if I have to pepper her hide hotter than a Midsummer ale!”

“You are going to stay here,” Ger’alin said quietly, firmly. “I will go to the Netherstorm and I will surrender myself to her. All I know, Zerith, is that I must follow her where ever her path may lead! And you should stay far, far away from her. Until I send for you.”

“Why? Right now, part of me wants nothing more than to never see her again.

Serving Kael! Aiding the Legion! But she’s my sister; she’s Valara given back to me. I will have answers from her even if it kills me!”

“It very well might,” Ger’alin whispered. “What is the importance of Valara? You bring her up a lot when you talk about Alayne.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Zerith growled. “What do you mean it might kill me? What do you know?”

“I’ve seen you both kill each other when you meet next. Something will happen and you’re going to cave her skull in and she’s going to plant her dagger in your chest and you’ll both be dead. Then, likely, there will be some sort of civil war among our people that stems from you two killing each other. Now, why do you mention your sister Valara so much?”

“You’re mad. I would never kill Alayne! I want to know what is going on in her head but I want her to tell me; not me try to see with my own eyes!” he whispered, aghast. “And Valara was the baby. I remember riding her on my shoulder when I was barely fourteen. She and I were close – closer than I was to my other sisters. I could talk to her about anything and she could tell me anything. I used to amuse her by telling her stories from my studies and she could snap me out of my blackest moods with one of her made-up faerie tales. Alayne looks just like her and…she’s so much like Valara in so many ways that I know she was repayment for all the suffering I went through losing my family. So, I would never raise a hand to her in anger! I would never harm her! Pull her over my knee and tan her hide: yes! Kill her?

Never!”

Ger’alin remained unconvinced. “I have seen it too many times. It is a warning from the Light that you should not follow after her. Perhaps you’ll be forced to kill her. Perhaps something will happen and she’ll be forced to hurt you to stop a greater wrong from happening. Maybe she’ll just get enraged and lose the ability to tell friend from foe and if you’re there, Zerith, you may not ever live to find out what you want to know. Just let me go alone. I’ll find her. I’ll bring her back. I’ll get the answers you need. And then, when it’s safe, I’ll send word to you where you can find us.”

“I can’t back out of my promise to go to the Netherstorm,” Zerith said dully, plucking at his boot idly, wearily. “I promised the Scryers we would meet them there and help them shut down the manaforges. We have to do that much, at least. We have to stop Kael from summoning the Legion!”

“Then do that,” Ger’alin growled, pushing himself up and beginning to dress again.

“Do whatever you feel you must. But if you cause any harm to come to my wife, regardless of what she’s done, regardless of with whom she’s sided…Light, how can I be angry at you for possibly harming her when I, with my own two hands…” he groaned, collapsing back onto the ground. Heaving sobs wracked him as he wept, wondering if his actions had been what pushed Alayne into running to the Sunfury. Had she been so frightened by his illness and his madness that she’d sought protection from him among those who would destroy the world? Is that what he had forced her to?

316

“Ger’alin, calm down,” Zerith said worriedly. “I won’t harm her. I want to keep her safe as badly as you do. But she’s gone over to Kael…how can we keep her safe when she’s pitted herself against us in the middle of a war for our very survival?”

“I don’t know,” the paladin said shakily, drawing a shuddering breath as he tried to collect himself. “All I know is that I’m leaving for Netherstorm right now. I have to follow her, no matter where she goes.”

317

Chapter Twenty-One: The Lady Dawnrunner

A

layne nodded coolly to the guards at the door to Manaforge Duro. She did not recognize this pair but that was hardly surprising any longer. King Sunstrider had begun rotating among the forges more frequently now as he sent his select elites to Hellfire Peninsula for their “anointing” before they returned to his hidden base in Azeroth, preparing for the strike against Quel’Thalas. “Lord Theron is loyal to Sunstrider,” she reminded herself mentally. “There will be no need to fight in Quel’Thalas.

No one there knows anything,” she thought bitterly, remembering her own shock at learning what Kael’thas planned. “We will simply walk into the city, take back M’uru, and then head on to the Isle of Quel’Danas.” Visions of a long-forgotten dream floated before her eyes; fire engulfing her homeland and demonic laughter ringing across a shattered sky. Her eyes flitted to the banner she’d had made when King Sunstrider had announced her engagement. Vangri had been impressed by it, vowing to make it his personal emblem once they were wed.

“Which will be the day after ‘never,’” she snorted to herself. A broken sun on a field of dark blue – it reminded her of the dream and of the price of her failure.

“You will not fail,” Mordenai reassured her. “You’ll succeed beyond anyone’s wildest aspirations. Truly, I’ve never known a mortal like you.”

“When you have nothing to gain, you have nothing to lose,” she sighed softly. “I want you to escape as soon as you can. Once he takes you through to Azeroth, you are to return to your kindred. This isn’t your fight.”

“Anything that involves the Legion is my fight. I’ll admit, it’s been hard having to stay here and not destroy every demon in sight. But, I’ll stay with you and stand behind you until the bitter end.”

“Enough.”

“My Lady certainly has gotten in the habit of command since her betrothal,” he sniffed before he went silent. Alayne fumed and writhed internally, wishing she could burst into tears but knowing it would do no good. Vangri had left her alone after she’d made it clear she wanted to focus all of her energy on restoring the Sunwell. She was grateful for that though it meant she wound up spending more of her time in his company than she wanted.

She pushed open the door to her office, intending to at least have a few moments to herself before she refocused the forge crystals based on the new frequency Telonicus had suggested.

She was startled to see her ‘fiancé’ seated at her desk, his boots propped up on the table.

“What do you think…”

“Ssh,” he said, gesturing her to silence. “I came here to warn you to be careful. Our scouts have noticed activity in the domes recently. Voren’thal may be planning to stage a raid. He’s attempted it in the past though, since we have been able to divert energy away from production and into shielding our vessel, it’s not really a concern for those of us who stay in Tempest Keep. Still, you’re here too often to suit me…”

“My Lord, I have work to be ab…” “…to suit me,” he continued as if uninterrupted, “and I want you to be careful.”

Standing up, he began to walk over to her to embrace her before he left. As he crossed the small room, he hunched over, shivering and sweating. Dry heaves wracked him and Alayne 318

gagged at the stench. With infinite pity, she knelt beside him, trying to ignore the smell, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Helping him to sit back on his heels when he finished, even taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiping his chin and mouth, she watched him evenly. Since his “anointing,” if he went many days without a “recharge,” he would suffer as she had just seen. She hoped he would go today. Not just so he would be away from her – she truly hated to see him suffering – to see anyone suffering – almost as much as she hated what he fed upon.

“I will be,” she promised, making him grin sadly when he recalled what he had asked of her. “If I don’t know them personally, I won’t trust them an inch. Now go,” she said pleasantly but firmly. “I need to consult my notes and then get to work. King Sunstrider believes we may be ready to return home within the week. If Voren’thal is planning anything, he’d have to be fairly quick about it to prevent us from attaining our goals.”

“You are a marvel,” Vangri grinned. “No wonder my uncle is so taken with you.

Still, if only you were a little older…”

“If only you would stop bringing that up,” she chided. “I’m old enough. I feel older than I am,” she sighed. “And yes, I’m getting enough sleep.”

“I still can’t believe I’m marrying a child,” he grumbled good-naturedly. Alayne groaned and shoved him out the door.

“You won’t be marrying me at all. I’ll make certain of that,” she whispered after she’d slammed the door behind him. Dusting her hands, she sat at her desk, straightened the papers Vangri had knocked askew, and buried her head in her hands. “Ger’alin,” she prayed, “Light be with him through the long years ahead. Let him live out his life in peace. Even if he spends the next seven centuries cursing my name, let him be happy with someone else.”

Parting her fingers and seeing the blank parchments on her desk, she considered leaving a letter explaining everything once again. She had burned the first missive she’d written after reconsidering the dangers of such information falling into the wrong hands. Still, the thought tugged at her mind. A chance to explain it all. A plea for forgiveness for everything. The attack on Shattrath. Spiking the food so that the Disorder of Azeroth was unconscious.

Getting the Aldorites and Scryers to march on Shadowmoon. Siding with Kael’thas. Helping to summon the Legion. She was shocked to find her hand holding a quill and scrawling broken explanations, heart-felt apologies, and entreaties to understand why she’d done as she had. With an effort, she forced herself to stop and took the ink-covered pages in her hand.

“Anger will help them heal. Rage will give them strength. I don’t want a single tear shed over what I’ve done,” she told herself firmly. “Let them think the worst; it’s better than knowing that I did this all cold-bloodedly and with plenty of forethought.” Holding them over a candle, she watched as her pleadings vanished in ash and smoke. Dusting her hands once more, she strode to the door, pulled it open, and began the ascent to the crystals at the top of the forge. “The shield will hold now and we will be returning home soon,” she said, repeating the words of her king. “I’m going home…to my final home… One day we will meet again and you will know. You will understand. I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart, Zerith, Dar’ja, Callie, Ger’alin… but I had no choice. He’ll die without the Sunwell. And I can’t face life without him. I just hope his outrage gives him the strength to face the years without me.” ~*~*~*~ Thalodien tried not to grimace as the girl-child walked past him. Long weeks of service at B’naar and Coruu had not prepared him for the rigorous schedule “Lady Dawnrunner” demanded of her underlings. That the warlock drove herself twice as hard as she drove the others was only a slight redressing of the balance. “How the naaru could have been blind to her evil is beyond me,” he thought to himself. “When her head decorates the 319

entryway to our tier as a warning to all who would turncoat, I will ask A’dal why he didn’t intervene. And I won’t take his shimmers about freedom as a gift of the Light for an answer.”

Beside the spymaster, Har’lon shifted wearily. The priest was unaccustomed to such heavy armor.

“Night shift dismissed,” Vangri Sunfury ordered coldly as he walked through the forge. “Your relief has arrived.” Thalodien and Har’lon joined the others in falling out to make their way to the barracks assigned them in the Mechanar. The pair kept together inconspicuously, making jokes along with the others about how much they were looking forward to their “anointing” in a few days.

“I hear you can make a woman scream all night in that state,” one of the rougher soldiers said slyly. Rubbing his palms together in anticipation, he launched into a lurid description of exactly how he was going to use his new powers.

“Kael’s a fool to let a vain, hot-blooded skirt-chaser like him in his army, let alone in the elite guard force,” Thalodien muttered to Har’lon under his breath.

“Kael’s a fool in many ways,” the priest agreed, his lips green at the thought of that “anointing.” “You realize that is Lightbinder’s sister, do you not? Alayne?”

“I do. It is taking every ounce of restraint I have not to cut her down and take her head back to Shattrath as an offering,” Thalodien growled softly. “To think someone barely old enough to be out without a chaperone is leading a manaforge. And helping to destroy the world. I always thought children were supposed to be innocent.”

“Innocence is lost early in times of war,” Har’lon sighed. “Most of our ‘children’ are orphans. Raised among humans or as fosterlings. Then, they’ve been pushed ahead, encouraged to marry almost as soon as they are capable of becoming parents.” Both men grimaced at that, recalling the scraps they’d overheard the children joking about concerning ‘marrying and helping to replenish our race.’ “Of all the things Kael has done, encouraging children to have children has to be one of the worst.”

“At least they keep it amongst themselves,” Thalodien shivered. “I’m glad we defected before he thought of arranging marriages between any of us and those little girls.

The thought of someone as old as Vangri even being engaged to a woman young enough to be his daughter makes me sick.”

“Aye,” Har’lon agreed breathlessly. “We’re degenerating into humans. It’s disgusting.”

“Are you two going to stand there and whisper all day or are you going to join the rest of the squad for some hot slop and hard sleep?” one of the other soldiers asked. Thalodien blinked, realizing the man was talking to them. All of the others had departed, taking their winged mounts up to the floating structure housing their barracks. Thalodien thought to himself for a moment before he recalled the other man’s name.

“We’re coming, Ben’lir,” he sighed. “Asleep on our feet over here. That Dawnrunner really lives up to her name sometimes.”

“She does,” Ben’lir nodded. “She’s not going to survive the restoration at this rate,” he added quietly. “It’s almost as if she’s trying to kill herself. I wonder how long Ra’lin there will survive if she manages to pull that off,” he sighed, pointing to the phoenix Alayne had been given. “I worked as a handler before,” he explained, seeing Har’lon’s inquisitive look.

“Once they get attached to a rider, they’ll pine after him – or her, in this case – if that rider goes missing. They can live hundreds of years but let one of them get a good case of depression and his fire will go out before it ever should have.”

“We’re hardly privy to the Lady Dawnrunner’s plans,” Thalodien said dryly. “If she pushes herself hard, that’s all to the good. It means we’ll attain our goals just that much sooner.”

320

“Yes, yes,” Ben’lir murmured, looking around to see if anyone close by could hear, “but, is it really worth it? A child like her…she’s a rare kind. To use her so brutally, to let her exhaust herself…is even restoring our birthright worth the sacrifice of one of our rare gifts of the Light? I used to think I’d do anything to get back at the Scourge for taking my family from me but…she puts me in mind of my cousin’s youngest girl. She should be tending her father’s garden and dreaming about the day she’ll be allowed to attend the first feast held in her honor. Not running a manaforge like a demon-driven maniac. Never mind,” he added quickly, “I trust that King Sunstrider feels the same regret I do. It is not his fault that the Light abandoned us and forces us to cannibalize our young just to survive! Once the Sunwell is restored and the Scourge and destroyed, we will be able to make it up to all of them! All of the children whose innocence we had to take away in these dark days. We’ll give it back to them and gift them with a world where they’ll never have to worry about survival again! Our king has foreseen this; we will triumph and we will rise from the ashes more glorious than before.” Hoping into the saddle, Ben’lir squared his shoulders as if trying to force himself to believe what he had just said. His mien indicated he did not want to speak or hear another word as he dug his heels into the gryphon’s sides and spurred it to wing.

“He’s wavering,” Thalodien said calmly, suppressing the triumph rising within him.

“Another few days, he’ll defect for sure. I’m going to keep my eye on him. He’s been my most promising aspect since I came to this Light-forsaken wasteland. And, he’s got a point.

Once we’ve put the threat of the Legion in the past, we’ll undo all the madness that Kael has begun amongst our children. First with this “marriage” business. They should be allowed their youth unfettered with the responsibilities of family and child-rearing. They should and must be allowed their innocence once more.” Climbing aboard the back of his own mount, Thalodien whispered his respectful request to the creature, thanking it when it took flight.

Har’lon was only a moment behind the spymaster, lost in thought.

“I wish it were possible,” he said finally to himself. “However, for all the changes that have been wrought, for all the insanities that have swept through our people and our young, I have come to see that their loss of innocence has been the worst. For, once it is lost, innocence, ignorance, and the ability to lose oneself in the happy dreams of youth…that can never be regained.” ~*~*~*~ Har’lon lay on the thin pallet allocated him in his dimly lit quarters. With his hands tucked behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, wishing he could find some sleep but seeing the twisted perversions of his people after their so-called “anointing” whenever he closed his eyes. “And I’ve got to be back at that forge in three hours to take orders from a girl young enough to be my granddaughter,” he grunted. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sat up and let his arms dangle over his knees. “Light help me with this. I don’t see how Thalodien does it; hiding his true feelings so well, fitting in with the others here, planting the noxious seeds of rebellion in their hearts and watching them bloom ever-so-slowly. Grant me patience and wisdom to see the grander scheme…”

A soft tapping at his door pulled Har’lon from his prayers. Composing his face and reaching over to rumble the sheets so it would look as if he had just woken, he grumbled, “Come in!” The door creaked open to admit the very child he’d been thinking of.

Lightbinder’s adopted sister looked pale, drawn, and tired. Pity warred with disgust in his heart as she quickly and quietly closed the door behind her. “Yes, my Lady?” he asked, feigning respect.

“None of that from you,” she said softly. “I know you are not loyal to Sunstrider.”

321

“If I were disloyal, I’d be scampering for scraps from the traitor Voren’thal’s table, my Lady,” he said smoothly. Alayne gave him a wry, amused look and shook her head.

“Very well, then. Prove yourself to me.”

“How?” “A small thing.” Reaching in her pocket, she withdrew three vials of water. Har’lon’s eyes widened in shock. What was a girl her age doing carrying those about like baubles? “I want you to bless these in the name of the Light or M’uru. Whatever power you follow, as long as it is not fel, ask it to consecrate these vials.”

“Why?” “Because your king requires this service of you,” she snapped. “He would have asked you himself only he does not wish to draw unwanted attention. Now, can you do as I have asked or must I find another amongst you rabble that seems to possess the requisite intelligence and faith to perform what should be a task of no import?” Har’lon bristled at her tone and words. Striding over to her, he snatched the vials out of her hand. “It must be a specific blessing,” she continued. “One that would allow those with evil hearts to handle the Vials but would…punish them most severely at my command.” The priest quirked an eyebrow at her, intrigued by the request. “Our king has his reasons. Not all of our allies can be trusted. Do this so that we may protect ourselves from the demonic tendency to deception.”

“As you wish, my Lady,” he said formally. Setting the Vials on his bed, he knelt before it, wishing he were back in Shattrath and at the Aldorite’s sacred temple. Ishanah would have permitted him access for something like this. Clearing his mind, he sought the Light and besought its will. Long moments passed in silence as he made his complicated request. Feeling a warm, soothing glow well within his heart and soul, he smiled, knowing that the Light had granted his wishes. “The Light has shone upon us this hour,” he said calmly. “May its brilliance lead us to victory.”

“May the eternal sun guide us,” she whispered, taking back the Vials. “Speak of this to no one. Not even our king. He asked me to approach you because you seemed to possess the required…discretion for such a task. Remember this: the fewer who know and the less a thing is discussed, the better. Now, return to your rest. You will be expected to report to your station in just over an hour.” Har’lon’s eyes widened; had he spent that much time in prayer?

Alayne let herself out as he sank to the bed, his mind racing with her last words.

“Has Kael seen the folly of his ways? Is he preparing to turn on the Legion? Do those closest to him know of his plans? Why has he not informed all of us? Why continue to aggravate the conflict with Shattrath if he’s actually playing the Legion for fools? And why risk that at all? Something strange is going on here and I just wish I could risk forcing that girl to tell me what.” ~*~*~*~ “Ah, my dear Lady Dawnrunner,” Kael’thas said warmly when Alayne entered his private quarters. “You look tired, child. You should rest more. You will do your king no good if you exhaust yourself before the time comes for you to aid in restoring our birthright,” he chided gently.

“I will rest more, my Lord,” she said swiftly. “I thank you most deeply for the use of the Vials this day. I have been able to refocus the matrices on all of the forges. The shields will now be completely operational at all hours. The small excess bleed Telonicus predicted has been diverted back into production. I have set up a standing illusion to cause anyone who does not know to think the production units are the only units the forges are powering.

Therefore, unless all of the forges were attacked at once and completely shut down…”

322

“Yes, I know,” he smiled. “Only if all four power down within moments of each other will the shield around our vessel be diminished. It is a brilliant plan. One worthy of the Sunfury name.”

“I will do my best to earn your regard,” she bowed.

“You have earned it many times over,” he said, waving away her reverence. “You continually surprise me. I hope, once this is all over and we have resumed our rightful place in the world, you will be able to lend your considerable talents to the destruction of the Scourge. Perhaps you should reconsider your stance on receiving the Master’s touch?”

“I will reconsider it as you request, my Lord,” she replied, “but after the Sunwell is restored. Please grant your humble servant this one request: to feel the warmth of the Sunwell as she did when she was a toddler.”

“Of course, of course,” he laughed. “I will not press you about it further. I understand your concerns. I share them in some ways. That we are addicted to the arcane is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that we learn to live within its ecstasy and weave it to our wills. A curse in that, without it, we waste away. But soon, that curse will end. You have done more than your part to help end it and I will speak with the Master myself. I will ensure that you are gifted as you deserve and desire.”

“That I have earned your exalted regard is the only gift I desire, my liege,” she said formally. “I beg your leave to withdraw, Majesty. I would like to return to my duties for a while before turning in for the night.”

“You have my leave, child,” he said pleasantly. “However, I wish for you and the heads of Duro’s shifts to report to me on the bridge tomorrow just after breakfast. We are going to begin transporting your forces to our staging grounds back in Azeroth.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said, bowing humbly and spreading her skirts. “I look forward to the day when our land shines in eternal spring once more.”

“So do we all, child,” Kael’thas said sadly, distantly. “So do we all. You may leave, now. Return to your duties and rest with your king’s blessing,” he said softly, lost in thought.

“Soon the Sunwell will shine once again.”

Alayne did not hear his last words as she swept out into the hallway. “We’re leaving soon?” Mordenai asked softly through the link.

“Yes,” she sent back simply.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Is there…any message you’d like me to pass on?”

“No. Their anger will help them heal. Just as I asked Akama, so I ask you: say nothing. Carry this to your grave. Tell no one; not even your future mate. Not even your little whelpings. I…I wish I would live long enough to see them hatched.”

“You probably wouldn’t at any rate,” he sighed sadly. “Now I know why so few of my kind befriend you mortals,” he sniffed. “I’m really not looking forward to this at all. I don’t care anymore if it would help your people. Why you?”

“Because I’m the only one who I will ask to pay the price. Now, enough of this.

Good-bye, Mordenai.”

“It’s Mordenaku,” was the last thing Alayne heard through the link before she tore the scale from the scar over her heart. For the first time in the many weeks since she’d stolen away from her friends and family in the night, she felt the chill of complete silence and separation in her mind. In a way, she thought she was experiencing a foretaste of the divide that would stand between them until they joined her on the other side of the veil setting apart the living and the dead.

323

“I have work to be about,” she reminded herself firmly. “The Sunwell will shine once again and soon. I…I will miss you all. May its rays send my love but the Sunwell must shine once more!” ~*~*~*~ The next morning when Alayne led her workers onto the bridge of Tempest Keep, she was calm and composed. A sleepless night spent in prayer had helped her to undo the last ties binding her to the world. She was even able to face Mordenai – Mordenaku – with his blazing, angry eyes and his lashing tail, calmly, coolly. “You would not want to feel that through the link, my friend,” she thought fondly as she listened with half a mind to her king’s speech.

“You have been chosen for a very special mission,” Kael’thas declaimed grandly, his eyes sparkling with eagerness and anticipation. “You are the final wave of fighters and magi to be sent to your brethren awaiting you at our staging grounds in Azeroth. You are among the most elite of my forces which is why your deployment has been held back so long.

However, the appointed day has, at long last arrived! With the hard work and dedication of Lady Dawnrunner, among many others, we are finally ready to return to our homeland and wrest back our rightful glory! The first phase of our plan is to take control of the Isle of Quel’Danas. Your commanders will explain your exact parts in that operation once you arrive at our staging area. From there, we will march on Quel’Thalas where our people will greet us with open arms! You will be heroes, the brave, selfless warriors who restored the Sunwell and helped to bring our deliverer into the world! Now, my loyal comrades, go forth to victory! These dark times are passing! Soon, the eternal sun will shine upon us forevermore!”

Thunderous applause broke out from among the normally disciplined ranks. Alayne felt her own heart trying to soar with hope. Relentlessly, she squashed it. She knew what insanity her king plotted and she knew that she had helped him closer to his mad goals. “That will be taken care of soon enough,” she reminded herself firmly. For a moment, she waited, expecting some sardonic remark from Mordenai. When she remembered that she’d severed that link, she sighed wistfully. While her followers cheered their king, the Magisters on the bridge began the incantation for the spell that would send them all where they were supposed to go. Alayne listened carefully to the words, noting that they were a mix of fel magic and pure arcane. Nodding to herself, she let the little remaining talent within her sense the opening of the portal between worlds. She studied it carefully as those among her ranks began marching through the shimmering gateway. Memorizing every detail she could, she nodded, bowed deeply to her monarch, and, with the last few stragglers, walked through.

A whirl of magical energy surrounded her, bathing her in its glow as her parents had bathed her with their love as a child. When she completed the step, she felt cold and forlorn.

“Thus does Ger’alin suffer,” she reminded herself. “I will stop that. I will end his torment and my own. I just wish…I wish I could see him one last time…”

“My Lady Dawnrunner,” one of the Magisters said stiffly, still uncertain about addressing someone so young – albeit extremely accomplished – as an equal. She stifled a grin, remembering how Jez’ral had talked down to her for all of her talents and all of her skill until she’d proven herself to him by passing her Master’s Trials decades before she should have. Only among Kael’s followers had she gotten a glimpse of just how advanced she was for one of her age. “My Lady Dawnrunner, if you please? Eramus Brightblaze would like to speak with you and your troops before giving you your personal orders.”

“Very well,” she nodded coolly. Falling in after him, she ignored the stares and the shouts of congratulations and certain victory now that the Prodigy was among them. Keeping her eyes on the Magister’s back, she tried not to feel a pang of regret that she would never 324

don the mantle he bore so confidently. “That’s behind me, now. Only darkness lies before me. Light help me, I said I wouldn’t do this again,” she thought to herself as she felt tears welling in her eyes. “I’m going home! To my final home at last!” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin’s eyes widened in shock as they stepped over the border into the Netherstorm. Dar’ja began giggling incoherently and even Zerith seemed taken aback at the sensations pouring through him. The priest shook his head as if to clear it and saw the Blood Knight licking his lips nervously as if wondering if he dared take another step. “Problems, Ger’alin?” Zerith asked hoarsely.

Ger’alin nodded, “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t have a choice, do I?” he muttered to himself. “I…if I break, Zerith…”

“I’ll be more help this time,” Zerith promised. Ger’alin shook his head but couldn’t find the words to explain what he wanted. Forcing himself to ignore the desire to drink in the arcane energy surrounding him, Ger’alin steeled himself for the long struggle ahead.

“I have to find her,” he told himself over and over again. “I have to keep her safe.

Whatever she’s done, where ever she is, whoever she’s sided with, I have to find her and join her! Damn this addiction! What is so funny, Dar’ja?”

“I’m flying!” she laughed, throwing her arms out wide and nearly hitting her husband in the face. “This feels wonderful!”

“Dar’ja, get a hold of yourself,” Zerith said worriedly, wanting less than anything to have to deal with another sickening sin’dorei. Glancing around, he saw that the other elves seemed to be following Ger’alin’s example and firming their resolve to fight against their desire to drink in the very air around them. As he worked to calm his wife, Zerith began to understand just how Ger’alin could have been driven as far as he had. To know that such joy existed and feel that it was willfully being denied you? “Dar’ja?”

“I feel as if I have had far too much to drink,” she said giddily, fighting to control her surging emotions. “It’s as if I can’t get hold of myself. I want to dance and sing for joy at the sheer thrill coursing through me. I can’t ignore it, Zerith! I can’t shake it off!” Panic began to war with exhilaration as the woman fought to calm her unsteady emotions. Zerith’s heart began to race as he sensed her reaching out and pulling energies into herself.

Ger’alin put a halt to it. Grabbing the woman by her arm, he dragged her back across the bridge. Once over the border and far enough away from the effects of the Nether on the land, Dar’ja collapsed shakily, her stomach emptying itself. Ger’alin watched her with pity in his eyes, wishing there were something he could do to help the woman control herself. “I’m afraid it’s back to Shattrath for you,” he sighed. “You don’t want to risk it out there. Believe me, I’ve lived through that hell already. I’ll live that torment every day of my life. Don’t do it if you don’t have to,” he said softly.

“I…you’ll look after Zerith?” she asked. “Make certain he sleeps some? He hasn’t been doing that much since she ran off.”

“I’ll look after him. He is my brother after all,” Ger’alin replied gently. “Light, Dar’ja, I don’t want to go in there either but I have to. Do something for me?” he asked.

Dar’ja nodded slowly. The man had never sought her advice or asked her for much of anything in the time they’d known each other. “Pray for me. Pray to the Light that I’ll find the strength I need to endure this and, if not, the wisdom to get myself out of there and the mercy to forgive myself for my failures. I seem to have a hard time with that last bit especially,” he said bitterly, fighting to keep himself from starting the familiar round of selfrecriminations that would throw him into one of his “sulking funks” as Callie termed them.

325

“I will,” she whispered. Zerith had, by now, made it over to the pair. “I’m going back to Shattrath,” she informed him. “I’d be more of a hindrance than a help out there the way I am. I can’t do it. Don’t ask it of me,” she pleaded.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he said, his eyes wide with shock. “Do you want me to return to Shattrath with you, Dar’ja?” he asked, torn between two warring duties. He should accompany his wife and stay with her. He also needed to find his sister. He could not leave her alone to continue her mad service to Kael’thas and neither could he risk the forces of Shattrath finding her first and killing her without so much as a trial and a chance for her to explain her insane actions. Deep in his heart, he knew she must have a reason for doing what she had done. She must!

“No,” she said finally. “If you want to see me back to Shattrath, that’s one thing. But you would not need to stay there.”

“Of course I’ll see you back to Shattrath,” he said, hating the relief clear in his tone.

When he saw Alayne next, he thought he would wring her neck for forcing him into this position. “Ger’alin, take command of the Disorder of Azeroth until I return. You know where to rendezvous with the Scryers, correct?”

“Yes, at the goblin town called Area 52. What a strange name,” he mused. “Go on, go on,” he gestured, waiting for Zerith to help Dar’ja to her feet. As the two began the trek back to where they had penned in the mounts, he wondered if accepting command when he was about to have to use all of his energy just to stay sane had been the best idea. “Why do I always seem to bite off more than I can chew? And will I always have to fight against these black moods?” he growled to himself, feeling the beginnings of the dark spiral. “Light be with me. Just let me find my wife and all will be right again!” he prayed. Striding up to the front of the line, feeling every eye on his back, he turned around and cleared his throat.

“Zerith will be returning shortly. For now, we will continue on. Follow me.”

He felt a moment’s panic when the members of the Disorder of Azeroth glanced askance at each other. He’d not been put in a command position over them since before the assault on the Black Temple. All of them, save Callie, had wondered if the sin’dorei had lost his mind and wondered now if following him would lead them off a unseen precipice.

Finally, Tau’re sighed and shook his shaggy head. “Are we going to stand here all day like a herd of cud-chewers or are we going to get a move on?” the tauren asked loudly. “Lead on, commander, and we will follow.”

Ger’alin nodded and smiled gratefully at his friend. Faking a confidence he did not feel, the Blood Knight led his forces – his friends – into the Netherstorm and into the trial of his life. “Light be with me,” he prayed fervently as he forced himself to ignore the effects of the Nether. “Just stay with me until I find my wife.” ~*~*~*~ “We wondered if you’d be showing up,” Thalodien growled as he watched the Disorder of Azeroth trickle in to Area 52. “Took you long enough. I thought you were supposed to be here yesterday. Giving your friend time to make certain that shield was impenetrable?”

“We came as soon as we could,” Ger’alin replied evenly. “What are you doing here?

From what little I heard, you were supposed to be sticking close to one of those manaforges.”

“There’s been a change in plans. We suspect Kael is up to something. He’s begun pulling all of his forces back, bit by bit, to Tempest Keep. A massive shield surrounds the vessel now, powered in part by the manaforges. To get in there and put a stop to him, we’ll have to shut all of the forges down.”

326

“Very well,” Ger’alin agreed. “Show me the layout of the areas around the forges and the interiors and I’ll get to work on a plan for you.”

“We’ve got a plan already,” Thalodien snapped. “What we need is bodies to execute it. Sin’dorei, preferably, as our own can get closest to the forges wearing robes we’ve managed to steal from Kael’s followers. Still, anyone with brains will do.”

Ger’alin gave the man a weighing look, wondering if he would be able to get away with smashing his fist through the Scryer spy-master’s face. Something about the man rubbed him wrong anyway and the added stress of trying to ignore the ecstasy around him was pushing the Blood Knight close to his limit. “Why aren’t you still among Kael’s followers?” he asked at last, knowing he was pushing the envelope but not caring. “Weren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on this ‘Lady Dawnrunner?’”

“Your so-called wife, you mean,” Thalodien snorted. “She’s well-guarded, day or night. Kael’s no fool – that child prodigy is a high value target. If we can capture or kill her, it would hit a lot of his forces hard. She’s respected, admired, and well-loved by those around her. Not to mention she’s been betrothed to Kael’s nephew, Vangri Sunfury.” Ger’alin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock and he felt as if all of the air had been squeezed from his lungs. Black flecks floated in his vision and his heart began to pound wildly as Thalodien continued. “They’re to be married once the Sunwell is restored. He’s one of the felbloods now, swollen beyond belief with demonic energy and his own native arrogance. Still, I suppose she’s a vain little climber, just like her mother was. She’s forgotten you already, I’ll wager. So, put your mind on how you’re going to execute my plan.”

“What is your plan?” Ger’alin asked breathlessly, his stomach churning. She couldn’t be going to marry someone else. She was already married to him! She’d sworn under the Light to hold true to him. As Thalodien elaborated on his plan, he continued to add barbs under Ger’alin’s skin, constantly recalling to him the faithless and fickle nature of women, especially women who were warlocks. By the time he finished, Ger’alin didn’t know whether he wanted to scream, weep, strangle Thalodien, or run after Alayne, begging her to tell him what Thalodien said was not true. The paladin stalked out of the inn and signaled for everyone to gather around him. “Sin’dorei,” he said, addressing himself first to his own people, “you’re going to don disguises and prepare to infiltrate the manaforges tomorrow evening. Apparently, most of the ‘elite’ forces are being pulled back to Tempest Keep so we’ll stand a better chance of bluffing our way past the guards when there are less people familiar with the others to point us out. The rest of you are to wait in groups around the forges. I will assign you each to a group and show you where you are to position yourselves.

If you see a signal flare fire out of the forge, that’s your cue to rush in. The plan is fairly simple. We will coordinate our attacks so they occur around the same time. That will keep the forges from being able to reinforce each other. The Scryers will be stationed near Tempest Keep to try to keep any messengers requesting back-up from reaching Kael’s base. Each forge has a crystalline control panel. Normally, you’d need an access key to unlock it.

Thalodien’s plan was to try to find them but I’ve suggested that we just concentrate on wrecking the machinery. There is a risk that the energies the forges are channeling will grow unstable. Be prepared to run for the hills if that happens.” The Disorder of Azeroth nodded, accepting their orders. Ger’alin quickly divided them down into groups and, taking each group inside the inn, showed them where they were to hide until they saw the signal to commence attack. Thalodien watched the Blood Knight pass out his orders with a bemused smile. The young man might make something of himself one day. Too bad he seemed smitten by that treacherous Dawnrunner.

Once everyone knew where they were supposed to be and when, Ger’alin bowed, saluted the spymaster, and concentrated on not punching the smug grin off the older man’s face as he backed out of the inn. Taking his camping supplies from Callie, he wished they 327

hadn’t left their mounts pastured back with the ogres. “Where are you going?” the Forsaken asked.

“To be just a little closer to her,” he replied, hefting his satchel over his shoulder.

“I’m taking Manaforge Duro. I’ll camp near there tonight. With luck, maybe I’ll see her and be able to talk to her.”

“If she’s gone over to Kael, though…”

“Callie, even if she’s sworn her allegiance to Sargeras himself, I love her. And, I need to tell her I’m sorry for what I did. Who knows but that was what pushed her over the edge?

Maybe in seeking safety from me, she fled to the one place she thinks I’ll never follow her.”

“Gerry, you can’t blame yourself for everything. You did wrong, of course, to harm her but you were ill. You had reasons…insane reasons, but reasons nonetheless,” she allowed judiciously. Ger’alin snorted. “You take too much on yourself. She does too. You’re both too pig-headed for your own good, you know that.”

“If I can win her back with words and spirit her away, I will. If the time comes and I’m not there, you’ll know that I found her. Whether it means we’ve run off or she has taken the price of my sins out of my hide…well, that’s her choice. All I know, Callie, is that I have to follow her. I have to…and I want to, where ever her path may lead.” Not giving the undead woman a chance to say another word, Ger’alin began striding away to the north and east, his feet firmly on the path to Manaforge Duro.

“Light go with you,” she whispered as she watched him lope off. “Light be with you both.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin watched the guards change shift from his vantage point in a cleft of large, jutting rocks. He wondered if Alayne might pass by soon. The few snatches of conversation he’d heard mentioned that she had been working like a fiend the past few days, barely stopping to rest unless she fell asleep at her desk. He longed to find a way into the manaforge.

Even if she were not there, he wanted to be where she had been, to breathe in her intangible presence now that he felt so close to reuniting with her. Over and over again in his mind, he rehearsed what he wanted to say to her when, at long last, he had the chance to apologize and explain.

“Alayne,” he breathed, every breath a prayer, “you can come back now. Whatever it is you felt you had to do, you don’t have to anymore. I’m sorry I pushed you to this end. I’m sorry I wasn’t the man you needed me to be. Just come out and come back,” he whispered.

“You know the Lady Dawnrunner?” a skeptical voice asked from behind him.

Ger’alin leapt to his feet with a start, spinning around and reaching for his sword. “One move more and you’re dead,” the man said evenly, his blade pointed at Ger’alin’s throat. The Blood Knight gulped and held up his hands in surrender. Perhaps being captured would put him that much closer to finding his wife. “Do you know her?”

“Who?” “The Lady Dawnrunner! You were just babbling her given name.”

“Alayne?”

“Yes!” “What would it mean to you if I knew her?”

“How about your life?” the other man growled. “I’ve left you alive this long because I’ve been watching you for an hour now. You’ve made no move to attack the forge and you don’t seem to be observing much. You act like a man watching for someone. Who and why?”

“I’m watching for Alayne…”

“The Lady Dawnrunner!” the man hissed angrily.

328

“…Right,” Ger’alin said slowly, “the Lady Dawnrunner. I’m hoping to catch a glimpse of her and get a chance to speak with her.”

“Why? Do you mean her harm?”

“If I did, I would hardly admit it to you, now would I?” Ger’alin asked sarcastically.

“But no, I mean her no harm. I would die before I harmed her again.”

“Again?”

“Are you going to kill me or take me prisoner?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here,” the other man growled. “Again?”

“I don’t want to discuss it with anyone other than her. She should hear it from me first. I owe her that much.”

“What do you mean by ‘again?’”

“Why do you care?”

The other man sighed and stared down Ger’alin. The Blood Knight met his gaze openly, curiosity and a bit of boredom plain on his face. Finally, the guard sighed again and grunted, lowering his sword. “I can still shout for the others and have you killed before you draw breath, stranger. Now, why are you out here? If you were one of Voren’thal’s followers, you’d be scouting the forge more thoroughly and from a better vantage point. All you’ve done since I noticed you is sit here and watch the main entrance.”

“My business here is my own,” Ger’alin said testily. “I am looking for the Lady Dawnrunner because I wish to speak with her.”

“Why?” “What business is it of yours?”

“Are you planning to try to take her away from here? Before her anointing?”

“Anointing?”

“Before she becomes a felblood as so many of the others have!”

“A felblood…they’re drinking demon blood?” Ger’alin asked, aghast. He felt his stomach clench at the thought of Alayne doing something so vile. Surely, no matter what, she would avoid such a thing at all costs. Was that why he’d been having these premonitions?

Would Kael attempt to force her to do so only to see her be executed for her refusal?

“Aye, stranger, that they are,” the man said sadly. “That is why…I cannot turn my back on my king but I cannot and will not hand my soul to the Legion! They are useful allies for now but let us retake our glory ourselves!”

“She’s going to…demon…oh Light no…”

“She seemed to be somewhat…hesitant to be anointed. Her husband-to-be already has been,” Ger’alin blanched and clenched his fists at the mention of another man in her life, “I see,” the guard nodded to himself. “That’s a relief. I don’t think she’s suited to be Vangri’s wife either,” he whispered conspiratorially. “I don’t think he has the first clue what a treasure our king has entrusted him with. Vangri was a good man but since the Scourge overran our lands and we fled to Outland, he’s become…harder. Colder. More arrogant than ever. He doesn’t value people the way he used to. I kept hoping some of her would rub off on him but, if anything, it’s been the reverse. She’s valued herself less and less, using herself harder and harder, pushing herself more and more, since her betrothal was announced.”

“Where is she?” Ger’alin demanded harshly. “And where is this Vangri?”

“She…the last I heard,” the guard sighed, sounding as if the words were being dragged out of him, “she had been recalled to Tempest Keep… Wait, where are you going?

You can’t just waltz up there and demand to see her! They’ll never let you in! They won’t even let the rest of us in anymore. We’re only permitted to return to our barracks in the Arcatraz of late.”

Ger’alin halted. He had been striding off purposefully towards the distant hovering vessel. “I must see her!”

329

“If I could help you get her away from here, I would,” the guard sighed. “She…she’s been a wonder ever since she arrived. There’s something about her that…well, Tempest Keep is on high alert. She herself designed the shielding that protects it while they continue on with whatever it is they are doing there. We grunts aren’t privy to such information,” he said airily, rolling his eyes. “Not any longer, at least. Our king has become…less…open to his people the closer he draws to the Master.”

“Kael will destroy the world,” Ger’alin said flatly. “And his plotting will be the death of Alayne! Please, help me get her out of there. She’s my wife,” he added. The other man looked up in shock. “We were married not even a month ago.”

“No wonder she’s been so…glum and withdrawn of late. I…I should arrest you,” he said slowly.

“Then do it.”

“I…return to your friends. I cannot help you. Just go! The next time we meet…” “…will be the last,” Ger’alin finished for him as he turned and began to jog away.

Once he reached the turn back to Area 52, he glanced over his shoulder. The guard still stood there, watching him go, his arms crossed over his chest, his sword at his hip, a thoughtful expression on his face. Ger’alin picked up the pace, torn with joy that he may be reunited with Alayne soon and sorrow that he may have to fight a man who seemed decent enough…save that he had thrown in his lot with Kael’thas and the Burning Legion. ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and shook his head. He couldn’t keep his mind clear and focus on his prayers. Thoughts of his wife, of his sister, and worries about Ger’alin filled his mind.

Irritated, he slammed the window shut, strode to his bed, and knelt as he had when he was a child. “Light help me seek after you,” he whispered, folding his hands beneath his chin. “Oh what is it now?” he groaned when someone began banging on his door frantically. “Can’t a man even pray in peace around here?” he spat as he flung the door open. Ger’alin staggered in, his fist landing on Zerith’s shoulder, the opening of the door catching him by surprise.

“Tempest Keep,” the Blood Knight said excitedly.

“What about it?”

“She’s in Tempest Keep.”

“And how do you propose we get there? Ask Kael very politely to let us in?”

“That’s right,” Ger’alin muttered. “You weren’t here to hear Thalodien’s plan. How is Dar’ja?”

“She was fine once she got out of this blasted Netherstorm. A few day’s preparation and she thinks she may be able to hold herself together long enough to be of help out here.”

“No,” Ger’alin said baldly. “She shouldn’t risk it.”

“I told her that myself as well,” Zerith sighed. “She said she wouldn’t come unless we sent word for her or she heard we needed help. She’s taken to studying in the Library with the Magisters. She does want to be of some use in some manner. If she can’t be here in Netherstorm, perhaps she can learn more about demons in order to help others learn how to deal with our prince’s new allies.”

“Speaking of which, you need to be ready to head over to Manaforge Ara tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be one of the sin’dorei attempting to infiltrate the manaforge and shut it down. I’ll show you the schematics Thalodien gave us in a bit,” he said, “but, for now, just know that Alayne is safe and sound in Tempest Keep. We should be able to get to her tomorrow night. I’m praying that, once the shield goes down, Kael’s forces pull back and try to negotiate. I do not want you to take place in anything that actually happens at Tempest Keep,” he said mildly.

330

“I would never harm my sister, Ger’alin. I’m getting rather annoyed at your insistence in believing I would. But fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’ll stay back if that’s what it will take to satisfy you. Just try not to do anything ‘rash.’ Only your wife can outdo you when it comes to making a hasty decision without much forethought,” he teased.

“I’m going to get her out of there. I’m going to make certain she’s safe. Even if that means she stays away from me forever after, I’m going to make certain of it,” Ger’alin vowed grimly.

“You can’t hold on to that for the rest of your life,” Zerith said softly. “I…I’ve been needing to say this for a while now. I want to apologize for what I said to you that day. About being glad. I wasn’t. I was just so…so…”

“I know,” Ger’alin muttered, not looking at the priest. “Had I been in your shoes, I’d have felt and said the same. And, I’m trying to let go but…”

“You’ll have to try harder. Whatever it is my dear sister has gotten up to, neither one of us helped a bit that day. You’ve been blaming yourself and I’ve been trying to figure out how to go back and undo it. We can’t. We have to accept that we were wrong not to listen to her, that we were wrong to go up against Illidan as brashly as we did. Had we heeded her advice, we wouldn’t be where we all are right now.”

“Zerith…”

“No, listen. She warned us almost from the moment we set foot in Shadowmoon Valley that we should be spending our energy on Kael and not Illidan. Even A’dal told us that Illidan was just a distraction. If we hadn’t rushed in to the Black Temple we…” “…wouldn’t have the Dragonmaw orcs as allies, or the Mag’har…”

“Look around!” Zerith snarled, exasperated. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends hanging from his shoulders, a sure sign of his frustration. “We don’t have any orc allies save for those who have been with the Disorder of Azeroth almost from the beginning! We lost the Mag’har and the Dragonmaw over the Black Temple. We lost them because of it! Because you were injured and Alayne went berserk and called upon the dead to attack Illidan!”

“You’re right. She was right,” Ger’alin said, his voice small and still. “We don’t have many allies left, do we? It’s just us against our prince and the Legion now and we’re trying to pull Alayne out of it and keep her safe. We can’t even call on Garrosh or Mor’ghor to hide her away.”

Zerith started to nod and lifted his hand to place it on the other man’s shoulder.

Ger’alin’s head hung and tears were welling in his eyes. He was so close and yet still so far from his goal. “It’s like I used to tell her, Ger’alin. We sin’dorei only have each other.”

“I wouldn’t say that, priest,” a deep voice grunted from the door. Zerith looked up, surprised to see it still open. “We’ve come to offer our aid,” Garrosh said.

“I thought you…”

“Akama told us that if we did not put an end to Kael and his madness, we might as well go ahead and slit our throats now and have done with it,” Mor’ghor cut in. “And, he’s right. Besides, it will give us a chance to put an end to that death knight,” he spat. “Once she’s gone, brother-to-my-brother,” he said to Ger’alin, “your mind will be freed of her spell.

Believe me. I have studied the shadow arts. You do not love her…”

Ger’alin turned away angrily, striding over to the window. Flinging it open, he gripped the sill tightly, not noticing when pieces of wood and plaster broke off in his hands.

Zerith glared at the orc chieftains, folded his arms over his chest, and wondered if shouting at them would be the best idea. “She is my wife,” Ger’alin said softly, his voice like silk sliding across the cold steel of a bared blade.

“She has betray…”

331

“She is my wife. I will know from her lips why, exactly, she has done what she has done. Deny me that chance and you are no brother of mine,” he continued in the same deceptively mild tone. The orc chieftains glanced askance at each other and at Zerith. The priest shrugged as if to say “what do you expect me to do about it?”

“But she has given aid to those who serve the Legion,” Garrosh explained.

“And if she has done so out of fear for her life? If she was captured trying to use the Vials to find a way to reverse my previous transformation? It was a disease that afflicts all elves, Garrosh,” he snarled, his back still to the room. The three men stared, startled and frightened when the windowsill and most of the wall beneath it tore away in Ger’alin’s grasp.

“A disease that she must have feared would consume and kill me. I believe she ran off seeking answers and a cure. I believe she must have been captured by Kael’s forces and tortured, forced to serve him. I believe that and I will continue to believe it until I hear the words spoken by her tongue, passing her lips, that tell me otherwise,” he finished, flinging the ruined plaster down onto the floor.

“I…see…,” Garrosh said, eyeing the sin’dorei warily. “Do all of your kind have such power when riled?”

“Alayne and I are rare exceptions,” Ger’alin said flatly, dusting his hands.

“I will give orders that she is to be captured alive and brought to you,” Garrosh replied. Mor’ghor nodded his head in agreement. “If she has turned against us all, though; if she has turned to the Legion of her own free will…”

“You will kill her,” Ger’alin finished for him, “and then you’ll deal the mercy stroke against my own neck, brother. You’ll owe me that much.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith watched Ger’alin the next afternoon as the groups finished donning their disguises and left to attempt their infiltration. The Blood Knight looked odd without his sword strapped to his waist and wearing robes better suited for his wife. Still, he did have a dignified bearing, an air of command about him that had only grown stronger since his miraculous recovery. The priest nodded to himself. Ger’alin was a man he could easily find himself following were he not so often thrust into a position of leadership himself. “This will go more smoothly than the last time,” Ger’alin said in a carrying tone, smiling at Bara’la. The woman nodded grimly at him, her expression one of fear and loathing barely under control.

“It will go more smoothly,” he said confidently. “This time, we will crush them between us when the time comes. Show no mercy, sin’dorei, for Kael’s forces would show you none in return,” he said, forcing himself not to think about the man he’d encountered the night before.

“At last, the lad says something worth listening to,” Thalodien cheered loudly, earning him stares of derision and disgust from the Disorder of Azeroth. Many of them, even the sin’dorei old enough to be considered adults by the old ways, were tired of the constant put-downs and reminders of their relative youth.

Ger’alin glared daggers at the other man. “Still, they are our people. If any of them surrender and drop their weapons, spare them. They can be held until we’re certain they’ve seen the error of their ways. No,” he said loudly, cutting Thalodien off, “we will give them the same chance at redeeming themselves as we have given the Dragonmaw orcs. The same chance the naaru gave you and Voren’thal. The same chance I have been given. I will not take mercy away from those who actively seek it. However, those who wish to continue the fight can have a foot of steel through their ribs.”

“You just want to spare your so-called wife,” Thalodien muttered softly enough that only those around him could hear. Unfortunately for the sin’dorei spymaster, Tau’re was one of that number.

332

“You and I will have a long chat when this is done, child of blood,” the tauren said quietly. “A long chat you may need your priest friend to help you recover from. Oh, don’t start rolling your eyes at me, little one. I have nieces who could twist you in a knot nine ways from Winter Veil. My younger brother has carried on the family name since I was too busy fighting to see to it,” he grinned menacingly.

Thalodien stared at the tauren, shocked. Glancing back over at the young priest and Blood Knight, he wondered just how two children could command respect from a veteran.

Tau’re watched the sin’dorei turn that thought over in his mind, hiding the smile that would have given his lie away. “It was the least I could do,” he thought silently, watching Ger’alin.

“Youth and fire can light the way where wisdom and experience have burnt out.”

“Let’s go,” Ger’alin said, gesturing for the others to depart. “This will go better. That, I vow.” ~*~*~*~ Ben’lir stood uneasily at his post. Things had been quiet of late. Too quiet. He’d heard no word from those who had been recalled to Tempest Keep. Perhaps the last waves had been sent back to Azeroth. “But why am I still here?” he wondered to himself. “Does my king know of my doubts concerning our new allies? I am loyal. Aren’t I?” “At least we don’t have to fight,” one of the other guards muttered softly, but not softly enough that the others couldn’t hear him.

“Afraid?” Ben’lir asked quietly.

“No,” the other man muttered sourly. “I just don’t like fighting our own.”

“Neither do I,” Ben’lir replied. “None of us do. But they’ve forced the fight. If they hadn’t abandoned us, maybe we wouldn’t be in this position. Maybe if they’d stayed, our king wouldn’t have…”

“Wouldn’t have what?” the other guard demanded, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing,” Ben’lir said quickly. “I just…sometimes wonder about the wisdom of letting demons roam about free. But, if our king says he has them under control, then he does.

It is just my ignorance that keeps me from seeing it.”

“Demons,” the other guard snarled. “I hate that we’re allied with them. But I would sell my soul to Sargeras himself to destroy the Scourge. They took everything from me! My wife, my children…those foul undead slaughtered them all while I was at the front. I would do anything to rid the world of that filth.”

“So would the rest of us,” Ben’lir said quietly, recalling scrambling through the ruins of his own home village, searching desperately for sign of his sister and her husband. They’d been eagerly expecting their first child; he’d been looking forward to being an uncle. But no sign of them had been found in the smoking, fetid rubble of Suncrown Village.

“I wonder who that is,” the other man said, gesturing to a trio of sin’dorei, one dressed in the robes of a forge commander’s assistant. The other pair flanking him wore armor much like Ben’lir’s own. “Probably more reinforcements from B’naar come to check on us and hold our hands,” he spat.

“I…Who goes there?” he demanded loudly, recognizing the man he’d spoken to of the Lady Dawnrunner.

“We have come to check on the alignment of the focal crystal,” Ger’alin said quickly.

“The Magisters at Coruu noticed a fluctuation in the field and sent us to check on it.”

“I see,” Ben’lir said slowly. “I will escort you to the stabilization chamber. You may leave the others here.”

Ger’alin paled, knowing he had been found out. He berated himself for not being more careful, for not scouting out the entrances before striding up to the forge. It was just his 333

luck to run into the one guard who, for whatever reason, had let him go once. He felt naked as he followed the guard into the forge. Without his sword and armor, he felt as helpless as a babe in swaddling clothes. Following the other man into one of the rooms off the side passages, he wondered if he would be able to wrestle his blade away before it slid through his stomach.

“What are you doing here?” Ben’lir demanded. “The Lady Dawnrunner has not darkened the doors of the forge in several days now.”

“You seem like a man of rare conscience,” Ger’alin said, eyeing the sword hilt. The man made no move to loose his blade. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the Blood Knight. “You seem like a man who would rather do good than serve ill.”

“Spare me, whelp,” he sighed. “I’ve considered running, deserting like Voren’thal did. I can’t abandon my sworn oath to my king. I won’t. My name and my word is all I have left in this world. If I give them up, I’ll have nothing.”

“And if your king has abandoned you?” Ger’alin pressed.

“If pretty words were all it would take to sway me, I’d have defected already. Now, why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m looking for my wife. If this is the closest I can get to her, I’ll be content with that. Now, were I you, I’d take off early. Light blind me, I don’t want to do this so don’t force me. Just get everyone out of here and head for the hills.”

“You’re going to attack the forges,” Ben’lir said slowly, understanding dawning across his face. Ger’alin winced as the other man tensed, preparing to shout and alert his comrades. With a quick motion, Ger’alin grabbed the man’s throat with one hand, slammed his other hand over his mouth, and held tight, searching for the pressure point that would render his opponent helpless. Ben’lir grappled with the younger man, grunting and trying to bite his hand, trying to force him to pull it away so he could shout for help. His frustration at trusting the traitor for his connection to the Lady Dawnrunner fed his struggles. Finally, he wrenched away, opening his mouth and drawing in air to call for aid.

When the other man slipped from his fingers, Ger’alin leapt forward, pinning him to the ground and working an arm around his neck. Within moments, the other man was out cold and Ger’alin knelt beside him, hands splayed, catching his breath. Wiping sweat from his forehead and taking a moment to straighten his robes and hair, hiding signs of the brawl, he dragged the guard’s limp body to a corner of the room and looked around. Glancing around as he straightened again, he smiled. This was Alayne’s office. He could practically taste her presence in the room. Without closing his eyes, he could see her sitting behind the massive wooden desk, one hand holding her hair out of her eyes as she read over some report.

He could see her standing up and pacing around the desk as she worked out a problem, stopping and smiling with delight when the solution came to her and then hurrying back to her seat to scribble it down as if afraid she would lose sight of it after a few seconds.

Breathing deeply, Ger’alin imagined that he could catch a faint trace of the scented soap she favored. Sitting down in the chair, he imagined for a moment that he could feel her near him.

Just as he settled in, the door flew open, a wide-eyed guard panting as it bounced back to smack his open palm. Ger’alin hastily grabbed up some of the papers stacked on the desk, pretending to have been going over them. Cocking an eyebrow at the guard, he adopted the most annoyed expression he could recall his wife wearing when he interrupted her studies.

“Yes?” he asked acidly.

“Excuse me, sir,” the guard said breathlessly. “I was looking for Sergeant Ben’lir. I thought I saw him come in here with you.”

“He looked tired,” Ger’alin said quickly and arrogantly, “I sent him back to the Arcatraz to get some rest. He’s no use to anyone asleep on his feet. Why, a pack of spies could waltz right past him and he’d be too tired to notice.”

334

“Uh, of course, sir. Perhaps you could help us with the situation that’s developing then?”

“Perhaps I can,” Ger’alin agreed, rising from the desk and straightening his robes. He hated the things; he felt as if he were wearing a woman’s dress. “What seems to be the matter?”

“One of the maintenance crew bumped the matrix crystal and knocked it out of alignment,” the guard explained quickly. “The shield has thinned and vortices are opening.

We’re afraid of a repeat of what happened at Ultris,” he shuddered. Ger’alin wondered what had happened at Ultris that had the other man paling and looking as if he might be ill. The Blood Knight wished he’d been able to force himself to talk with Thalodien more; then he might know what would have one of Kael’s followers nearly ready to soil himself at just a word. Following the guard into the main chamber, Ger’alin stopped, his jaw dropping in shock, as he took in the sight.

Where earlier had been an orderly array of equipment, crystals, and a gentle hum of arcane energy flowing through conduits was now a scene of chaos. Workers ran from one side of the forge to the other, twisting dials, throwing switches, and casting spells to try to stabilize the energies leaping from the forge’s main power channel. Arcane golems stood in piles of smoking rubble or ran amuck where stray bolts had struck them, overloading their delicate machinery. A lone golem had gone completely berserk, slamming its metallic fists against a control panel, its head spinning wildly. Hovering above the madness were several small portals. Pitch-black, they looked like the yawning mouths of some unspeakable monster. Magi directed most of their energy at them, trying to disperse them back into the Nether before anything could gain entry through them. Ger’alin saw that even some of his spies worked alongside Kael’s forces to try to keep the portals from spawning creatures the likes of which only twisted minds could imagine.

“Can you help us?” the guard asked, pointing to the main console. Stray bolts of energy danced across it; it looked as if someone had tried to smash it. Ger’alin shook his head and sighed. Striding self-importantly over to one of his spies, he asked for a brief recount of what had happened.

“We didn’t have the chance to so much as look at the main console,” his fellow whispered while he focused on trying to bind the rampaging golem. Ger’alin began looking about for something he could use as a weapon. He didn’t trust himself to use magic – not here in the Netherstorm – not anywhere, if he could help it! But he could use his muscles to subdue the thing. “From what I could sense, this forge was on the verge of destabilizing anyway. I say we make good our escape and let this place implode. It’s going to, anyway.”

“No,” Ger’alin said firmly. “We cannot just leave them to die.”

“They’d kill us anyway.”

“I want you to begin evacuating the forge,” Ger’alin said, speaking right over the man. “Get them out of here. Surround them discretely, if possible, and capture them. You should be able to separate them from their weapons easily enough before you give yourself away. Just do it!” he ordered harshly.

“What are we to do, sir?” the guard asked Ger’alin as the Blood Knight began striding purposefully around the forge.

“Give me your sword,” he replied evenly.

“My sword?”

“Just do it! I need something to focus my energies on.”

The guard reluctantly unsheathed his blade and, turning the hilt around, handed it to Ger’alin. The Blood Knight hefted it, letting it whirl through his hands a few times to get the feel for the blade’s balance before nodding to himself. “Now, I want you to gather up

335

everyone working here and get out of this forge. I don’t believe there’s anything that can be done to save it and I want everyone out of harm’s reach. Don’t argue with me, just go!”

“The Lady Dawnrunner would never respect us if we abandoned our posts,” the guard muttered sullenly. “She certainly wouldn’t…”

“The Lady Dawnrunner isn’t here, man! She’s back in Tempest Keep!”

“We should send word to her, then. She managed to beat back the Nether creatures once. She could do it again.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Ger’alin snapped. “Now, quit disobeying my direct orders and get yourself and your people out of here!”

“Lady Dawnrunner wouldn’t flee…,” the guard said sulkily as he hurried about Ger’alin’s orders.

“Lady Dawnrunner sometimes has too much courage and too little self-preservation for her own good,” Ger’alin mumbled. Motioning for a few of the more skilled magi who had infiltrated with him to remain behind, he waited until the forge workers were almost all out before explaining his plan. “Do whatever it is you have to do to keep those holes from getting big enough to let anything through.”

“Easier said than done, Ger’alin. Jez’ral is so much better at this than I am,” one of the mages sighed.

“Just do it, Nishi. Focus everything you have on that. I’m going to smash the machinery. Hopefully that will just bring the whole thing to a stand-still…” “…or it could blow us all to the next life…”

“Certainly beats standing here waiting for something from the great beyond to come lop off our heads,” Ger’alin grinned. “Focus your energies. I’ll do what little I can to help out.”

Ger’alin watched as Nishi and the other three mages began focusing their concentration. Studying the rifts, he saw that their growth had halted. Still, they did not shrink. With a sigh and a quick prayer, Ger’alin closed his eyes and reached out, adding his own miniscule channeling abilities to that of the group. He jerked back from the arcane circle seconds after joining, feeling a swell of pure evil begin to emanate from one of the rifts.

Hefting his sword, he ran over to the console and began hammering away at it with all of his might while the other four concentrated on containing the Nether creatures who sought entry into Outland. “Jemuya, watch it!” Nishi shouted to one of his comrades. Ger’alin turned from his destructive task to see a huge voidwalker forcing the rifts wider, forcing them to merge at their borders, as it pushed its way into the world from beyond.

“I wish Alayne were here!” he roared as he ran to engage the creature. The four mages had collapsed on the ground, clutching their heads, in agony from the exertion of trying to hold the powerful demon back. “For the Light and Quel’Thalas!” Ger’alin shouted.

“For the Light and Quel’Thalas!” a familiar voice agreed as another man ran to join in combat. “Call the others back, Ger’alin. We can’t do this alone.”

“Can we do it together?” he asked warily as he and Ben’lir hacked away at the creature.

“Yes! Let us set aside our differences for this battle and then we’ll decide whether or not to fight over our loyalties,” the man growled. “Watch it!”

“I have been in combat before,” Ger’alin muttered as he dodged one of the creature’s massive fists. “Everyone, back in!” he hollered, his words echoing back and forth in the cavernous manaforge. Within moments that stretched like hours, all of the others were back in the forge. Knights loyal to Kael surrounded the creature, hacking away at the nethery being with their swords. The one who had loaned his blade to Ger’alin slammed the creature with his shield. Spells of ice, fire, shadow, and Light flew from the fingers of friend and foe alike, exploding into the demon with a vengeance. Ger’alin reached out to the Light and hurled its 336

condemnation upon the perversion of existence, feeling a joy that began to surpass that he had experienced under Illidan’s ministrations. Before he was aware of it, the creature imploded, the shockwave throwing the fighters across the forge. Ger’alin slid across the cold ground, his head thudding against a wall, dazed. Long moments he lay on his back, gathering himself to stand, wondering if another battle was about to begin.

When he managed to pull himself to his feet, he was surprised to see the elves with Ben’lir setting their weapons down and holding their hands up. His own followers quickly surrounded them, kicking the weapons out of their reach for safety and eyeing the elves loyal to Kael warily. “The Lady Dawnrunner would be most upset if we killed her husband,” Ben’lir said loudly, drawing gasps of surprise from those with him. They had thought the gesture one meant to cement their loyalty to Kael, by showing they would surrender even to strangers if he demanded it. Only Ben’lir had known the truth. Seeing the ones he thought traitors reach out to the Light showed him just how far into shadow they had fallen. “I once swore an oath to serve the Light and the Alliance, many years ago, when first the orcs came into our world and shattered it with their war-mongering. Through countless battles, I followed our king, never questioning his decisions or his wisdom. But now…now prince Kael’thas has joined us with the Legion. Now I remember my first oaths and remember what it was to serve a just cause instead of a desperate one. Strike me down if you must; if you feel your oaths to the Sunstrider out-weigh your oaths to do what is right.”

Several of Ben’lir’s comrades balled their fists and began striking the man, screaming that he was a traitor, that he had handed them to Voren’thal. Ben’lir made no move to defend himself, accepting the blows as if they were only his due. Ger’alin gaped, watching, dumbstruck, for several minutes before he waded into the melee, laying about him with the flat of his borrowed blade, knocking most of the fighters out. Those who had chosen not to pummel Ben’lir still eyed him warily, suspiciously. Ger’alin sighed. “At any rate, you are all going to return to Area 52 with us. Come along peacefully and I swear no harm will come to you. That’s more than I could expect were the situations reversed. And, someone heal them,” he muttered, gesturing to those he’d knocked out as well as to the bruised and battered Ben’lir. “I’ve a feeling Thalodien will want to speak with you,” he said to the man who had surrendered peacefully.

“Thalodien will probably want my hide for a rug,” Ben’lir grinned ruefully. “I should have known he and the other with him were spies. He tried several times to turn me against King Sunstrider.”

“Kael.”

“No. Though he may be turning to evil out of desperation, though he may be leading us all to the path of destruction, though he may be doomed, he is still our rightful king and leader and worthy of our respect, however misguided he may be.”

Ger’alin sighed and nodded. There was no use arguing with the man; if he wanted to believe Kael’thas merely misguided, let him. The truth would come out eventually. “It always does,” Ger’alin muttered to himself. “Even when it hurts like the devil.” ~*~*~*~ Thalodien barely managed to hide his shock when Ger’alin led his group back to Area 52. Gathered inside a ring of members of the Disorder of Azeroth were the forge workers. A slump-shouldered Ben’lir walked at their fore, smiling sadly when he spotted the spymaster.

“I should have known you weren’t loyal,” he called out cheerfully.

“I am loyal. Loyal to the Light above all,” Thalodien said, doing his best to ignore Ger’alin. “I don’t see the infamous Lady Dawnrunner among this number. Did you let her escape?”

337

“I never laid eyes on her,” Ger’alin said defensively.

“Sure,” Thalodien snorted.

“Lady Dawnrunner was recalled to Tempest Keep some days ago. She’s not been back to the forge since. I think she may have been sent back to Azeroth for the rebirth of the Sunwell,” Ben’lir said airily. His fellow prisoners eyed him stonily. “She is one of the most adept magi I have ever been privileged to work alongside. She may be young enough to be my daughter, but she is one of the best alive. She could easily pass for a Magister were she older. In raw talent alone, at least, though Telonicus and King Sunstrider did take it upon themselves to expand upon her spotty education.” Thalodien’s eyes widened in shock. He’d known that Alayne was respected. Still, he’d always believed it had been more because Kael was forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel than because the girl had any true skill. “She could channel a flow that would have most men insensible on the floor, moaning in mindless, gibbering ecstasy,” Ben’lir continued. “She pushes herself harder than anyone else. What she calls ‘hard,’ others would call ‘murderous’ or ‘suicidal.’ She’s good, Thalodien. That shield she designed and put in place? You’ll have a hell of a time bringing it down.”

“I think we’ve rather done that,” Thalodien grinned smugly. “Duro is offline, B’naar is in rubble, Coruu is burning as we speak. Only the group sent after Ara hasn’t reported back yet and they have quite a ways to come.”

“Please be well,” Ger’alin prayed. “Dar’ja and Alayne will both kill me if anything happens to you, Zerith.”

“Gather them in,” Thalodien said loudly, gesturing for the goblin mercenaries he’d hired as guards to surround the elves loyal to Kael. “I want you to see them back to Shattrath.

Tell Voren’thal they are to be held and questioned before their executions.”

“They are our prisoners,” Ger’alin said flatly. “We took them, we decide their fate.”

“Preposterous!” Thalodien snorted. The Disorder of Azeroth, following Ger’alin’s lead, began to unsling their weapons, readying themselves for a brawl. Ger’alin began towering over the older man, tensing his muscles so tightly that the seams of his disguise began to give way under the strain. Fury painted the fighter’s face an ugly red. His aquamarine eyes, tinted more strongly green than they had been in days, blazed. The goblin mercenaries began standing down, knowing themselves outnumbered and not being paid well enough to deal with fighting off one of the three largest armies in Outland.

“I said they are our prisoners and we will decide their fate. Do you want us to decide your fate while we’re at it, Thalodien?” Ger’alin spat. “Because I’m in just the mood to do it!”

“And what is your decision then, O Wise Leader of the Disorder of Azeroth?”

“They will be escorted to Shattrath,” Ger’alin said, his breath coming in angry gasps between clenched teeth. “They will be imprisoned until the war is over. They may be questioned but they will not be put to the question. Neither will they be executed. The same will go for any prisoners we take. They will live to stand trial at the war’s end and answer for their crimes. A tribunal led by representatives from all the races fighting them as well as men and women dedicated to service to the Light will decide the price they must pay. If that price is their lives, so be it. But they will be given the chance to explain, repent, and redeem themselves. This I vow under the Light and by my oaths to my wife,” he finished, his voice barely loud enough to be heard even by those closest to him.

“And my fate?” Thalodien said blankly.

“Your fate?” Ger’alin blinked. “Oh, yes,” he chuckled. Lifting a meaty hand, he clapped it on Thalodien’s shoulder hard enough to stagger the older man. Pulling him in close, Ger’alin’s grin widened until it was all teeth. “Your fate will be for me to do to your arms what I did to the windowsill last night if you ever, ever disrespect me in front of my followers and my prisoners again. Do you think Voren’thal would stand for his commander 338

to be dressed down like a child? I didn’t think so. So, from now on, you’re going to be as nice as you can be and I’ll let you off. Insinuate that I’m a traitor, speak out against my wife once more, or do anything that makes it look as if the Disorder of Azeroth is a pack of your minions instead of your allies…,” he trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken. “However, if you do apologize, I will forgive you. Unlike you,” he sighed, “I don’t hold grudges any longer.”

“Very well then,” Thalodien said sourly. “I won’t make you look a fool in front of your followers. However, if you think I’m going to take a child into my… I suggest you and your followers get some rest while you can. Once the shield is completely down, we’re going to march on Tempest Keep. For your sake, I hope your wife surrenders peacefully.”

“You leave her to me,” Ger’alin said harshly. “If I find her, all will be well. All will be well.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith sighed and washed his face again. He could still feel the electricity dancing across his skin. Glancing into the mirror, he groaned and leaned over the basin. Pouring the entire vase of water over his head, he hoped that would get his hair to lay back flat again.

Shaking the excess water out of his hair and trying not to berate himself more than he needed to over that foolish stunt, he reached for a towel, knowing he wouldn’t be able to rest much with his hair dripping onto his robes.

“Come in!” he shouted when he heard a tapping at his door. Ger’alin ducked his head into the room, glancing around and looking surprised when he saw a soaking wet Zerith standing before the wash basin and mirror.

“What in the Light?”

“I was the only one who could or would get close to the console,” Zerith explained, plucking at the burnt fabric and the holes in the chest of his robes. “The others had their hands full fighting the forge workers off. Then the forge master showed up and we had quite a predicament on our hands. I wound up just bashing the thing in with my hands. I tore the cover off and reached in, pulling out whatever I could. Sparks and lightning bolts arced all over the place. For a while after, I couldn’t see anything except this bright flash of light that exploded in my face.”

“You’re lucky to be alive after that!” Ger’alin gasped.

“I’m lucky that Fam’iv was nearby to heal me. My arms were black to the shoulders from that stunt. Did you find her?”

“No,” Ger’alin said slowly. “She was called back to Tempest Keep. She may even be back in our homeland already. Ben’lir, one of the guards we took prisoner, seems to think that Kael knows just how valuable she is. Thalodien has finally conceded that maybe, just maybe, someone her age could be that talented and dedicated. If he’ll ever get over his view that anyone under the age of fifty is nothing more than a suckling babe, he might actually learn a lot about sin’dorei as opposed to the quel’dorei we used to be.”

“He getting on your nerves, too?” Zerith grinned. “Har’lon was much more laid back even though he still honestly believes we shouldn’t be out without guardians.”

“Either he’ll come around or he won’t. I shouldn’t let it bother me,” Ger’alin sighed.

“We’re supposed to attack the Keep in a few hours,” he started to say.

“I know. Thalodien said he wanted to hear back from his scouts that the shield was down before he sent us on. We’ve got about three hours to rest. I’m planning to use them,” the priest said pointedly. “You should as well. Get some sleep.”

“I can’t,” Ger’alin muttered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see…”

339

“Enough. I’ve heard enough about dreams to last me a lifetime,” Zerith sighed irritably. “Here, you take this blanket and pillow and just lay down here,” he pointed to a space near the bed. “I’m going to take a nap myself. Maybe listening to me snore will chase those dreams off and let you get a little rest.”

“Fair enough, Zerith,” Ger’alin sighed, taking the offered pillow and blanket and tossing them on the floor. Laying down, he pulled the blanket up to his shoulder and closed his eyes, willing himself to see nothing but the darkness behind his eyelids.

The priest tiptoed over to the basin and squeezed the last of the water out of his hair.

Stepping quietly back to the bed, he lay on his side, watching Ger’alin’s chest rise and fall as the man drew in the deep, even breaths of sleep. Yawning, Zerith found himself breathing in time with the other man, his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted off, wondering just where his sister was and what she was doing. ~*~*~*~ Alayne stood, teetering on the edge of a cliff, a heavy weight pressing against her, threatening to push her over. With all her might, she struggled to hold it up, to keep the heavy burden held high. Sweat streamed down her face and her whole body shuddered with the effort. Zerith’s heart began pounding in fear and concern. Racing to her, he tried to pull her away from the edge, tried to put his body between hers and certain death. She smiled sadly at him, shaking her head, as if to say that it was no use; that he could not help her. Still, he tried, creeping gingerly along the edge, trying to force her back to safety without crushing her between his body and the massive weight she was trying to support. Snaking his arms around her, he placed his hands against the weight, pushing with all of his might. Soon he was shaking, his heart pounding with the effort. Then, he felt more than heard her gasp. Glancing up, his vision blurry from strain, he saw Ger’alin appear before them. The Blood Knight’s face was a mask of fear. He reached out to his wife, pleading with her to come to him. He didn’t seem to see Zerith standing behind her, offering his support to his sister. “Go on,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll hold this for you a little longer.”

“No. It was…I…for nothing,” she murmured sadly, letting her arms go slack with shock as she stared at Ger’alin. Zerith redoubled his efforts to keep the weight away from her, away from them. Without her straining to help him, it began to roll back, shoving them both over the edge. “For nothing,” Alayne sighed sadly as the pair of them tumbled into oblivion.

The next thing the priest knew, he was floating high above the ground, looking down on his lifeless body laying near where Ger’alin crouched, holding Alayne. His sister’s dagger was buried in his chest and a look of confused pleading was frozen on his face as his death mask. Ger’alin was weeping brokenly, rocking Alayne as he wailed. Zerith could see the ugly wound that had been her death; looking to the mace still gripped in his dead hand, he could see the cause. “What…but I wouldn’t…would I? Ger’alin, look out!” he screamed, seeing a massive black and red fist moving quickly to smash the man flat. “For the love of the Light, if we’re dead, don’t join us! Live!”

Ger’alin moved as if he had heard the priest, throwing himself to the side while still cradling his wife’s body in his arms. Setting her gently to one side, taking a moment to smooth her hair and hide the awful dent in the back of her skull, Ger’alin unsheathed his sword, pulled his shield in front of him, and began to advance on the demonic entity rearing up from a pool of pure Light. Zerith couldn’t hear the man’s battle cry as he began to drift away, light and Light suffusing him while the priest still wondered just what had happened… ~*~*~*~

340

Zerith sat bolt upright in the bed, clutching his chest, his breath coming in heaving gasps. On the floor, Ger’alin was curled up on his side, staring sightlessly ahead, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Not again,” the Blood Knight muttered again and again. “Light, please,” he begged, “please stop sending me these dreams. Are you trying to tell me that nothing can be done to save her?”

“Dream? A dream where Alayne and I die in a room with red carpeting and a pool of Light?” Zerith asked. Ger’alin nodded blankly. “Ger’alin, could you please keep your dreams to yourself?” he asked angrily as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I do not need your dreams crowding my own out. I rather like my silly dreams about chasing a kitten the size of a horse through a dwarven village. If I have another one of your dreams, I’m going to study alchemy and find a potion that will let me go the rest of my life without sleeping!”

“If you think just once was bad,” the Blood Knight muttered sullenly. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he rolled on his back and grimaced. “If you think once was bad, try having that dream every night since I’ve been healed!”

“I would never harm my sister. I would never raise a hand to hurt Alayne any more than I would have raised one to Valara. I could barely make myself punish Valara when she needed it as a toddler and I was set to watch her. I feel almost as strongly about Alayne as I did about my baby sister. I would not hurt her!”

“Something is going to make you.” “‘Something’ can go to the Nether and rot for all of me,” Zerith swore. “I wouldn’t do it! I would never do that!”

“Now you see why I don’t want you to…”

“I see why you think that,” Zerith cut in abruptly. “But it was just a dream, Ger’alin.

A dream. It doesn’t mean it’s a portent of what is to come. It’s not a prophecy. It’s a dream.”

“Then why did both of us just have it?”

“Light alone knows,” the priest admitted tiredly. “Maybe because we’re both thinking of her, both knowing that we could be fighting her again in a few hours. Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” Ger’alin echoed numbly, sounding as if he did not believe it but were trying to force himself to entertain the notion. “Maybe. Speaking of which, I guess we should be…”

“Rise and shine, my young generals!” Thalodien said as he banged on the door loudly.

“It’s time to put an end to Kael’s machinations once and for all!”

As the pair dragged themselves to their feet and began a hasty wash before they had to muster their forces, Zerith sighed. “When this is all over, I’m going to hit him over the head with my shoe.”

“If you can get to him before I put my fist through that smug, arrogant grin he wears, feel free to do so,” Ger’alin grinned. “Come on, now. We need to wash up and wake up.

Battle. And…if you see her, Zerith…”

“If I see her, I’ll keep my distance,” the priest promised wearily. “Light alone knows why, though, because I would never, not in a million lifetimes…I would never hurt my sister.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin’s heart pounded in his ears, shoving blood through his temples, neck, face, and chest as quickly as it could. His hands were cold and clammy and his legs felt watery.

Gazing up at the crystalline structure floating high above the ground, his breath came in short gasps of excited anticipation and anxiety. Soon, he may be reunited with his wife. Soon, he may be cradling her corpse in his arms while he demanded to know why she had died. Soon,

341

one way or another, it would come to a head. Beneath a shattered, broken sky, he stood praying that the end he feared would not come to pass.

“No turning back now,” Thalodien was saying as he paced nervously in front of Zerith and Ger’alin. The three men, plus Ben’lir, stood apart from their forces, studying the massive structure. “They’ll have seen us coming from miles away regardless of how we hid ourselves. You can see clear to Blade’s Edge from parts of Tempest Keep. Kael knows the shield is down; he’ll be ready for an attack.”

“Then we had best be ready to give him one,” Ger’alin said tonelessly. Light, how many forces could be hidden in that thing? he wondered to himself. Can troops move from one structure to another easily? Surely a mage as powerful as Kael would have seen to that before spreading his followers across four floating vessels. If he hadn’t, Alayne certainly would have. She’s paid far too much attention to me not to see something that obvious.

“Worried about your wife?” Thalodien asked solicitously. Far too solicitously for Ger’alin’s taste. The Blood Knight favored the spymaster with a look that would have peeled paint off a wall. “I have…requested that she be captured and imprisoned instead of killed outright,” the spymaster continued, paling as Ger’alin’s face grew darker. “Light, man, don’t lose your temper at me before the fight starts. I’m just telling you; I’ve done all I can. Don’t blame me if she gets caught in the crossfire.”

“I won’t,” Ger’alin said tersely before returning to his study of the vessel. “What do you think, Zerith?”

“He’s right. Kael has to know we’re coming. He’s probably got a good idea of what our numbers are and, for the sake of our lives, we’d best assume Alayne told him everything about the tactics we favor.”

“So, do we go with an unorthodox – well, unorthodox for us – plan?” Ger’alin asked.

“No. We do what we would normally do and just try to do it much faster. We need to press them back as far and as fast as we can. Let’s not give them time to rout us. Strike hard, strike fast, and don’t let them up. I’m afraid it will mean we will be going for a kill with every strike, Ger’alin but…”

“Just stay back with the healers!” he growled.

“I will. And you make certain you don’t get yourself hurt. She’ll never forgive me if I let something happen to you.”

“I’m not planning to let anything happen to me. Or to her. Or to you. Dar’ja would skin me and I’d help her salt my hide if anything happened to either of you. Just…if you see a room with…” “…red carpeting and a pool of Light, don’t go in. I think I can handle that,” Zerith sighed. “I even left my mace behind in Area 52, Ger’alin. I will not harm my sister.”

“Just…let’s get on with it,” Ger’alin sighed. “Beneath this broken sky with its shattered sun…let these dreams be done with, once and for all.”

As Zerith and Ger’alin turned back to begin explaining the last changes to their attack plan to the Disorder of Azeroth, Thalodien watched them thoughtfully. “Shattered sun,” he muttered, something about the words ringing a chord within him. “We will shatter Kael’s sun and put an end to his madness. I just hope your child-wife doesn’t cause too many problems and that you can be subdued when the time comes for her head to hang from the bridge for the traitor she is.” ~*~*~*~ “It’s quiet,” Ger’alin whispered as he and the others crept through the crystal palace.

“It’s too quiet. Where are all of the guards? The manaforges were more heavily guarded than this!”

342

“Let’s just see how far we can get before we’re attacked, shall we?” Callie muttered to him in an undertone. “Honestly, though, you’re right. It’s so…quiet. It’s deader than a graveyard in here.”

The group of two dozen or so pressed onward as quietly as they could. Their footfalls seemed to echo in the cavernous hallways. Ger’alin winced at every jingle of armor or clank of a weapon, certain that their enemy lay in wait for them just at the next bend. When the next bend revealed yet another empty corridor, Ger’alin’s sense of apprehension increased.

“Where is everyone?” he wondered aloud for the thirtieth time.

“I don’t know,” Callie whispered her customary answer. “I feel like…” “…like we’re back in that floating ziggurat?” Ger’alin asked. The rogue nodded. “So do I. Light knows I hope we’ll run across her and she’ll switch sides back to us as she did last time.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Zerith muttered, striding up to the front of the group. “We’ve not seen sign of anyone since we snuck in here, Ger’alin. If I hear anything, I’ll run right back to the healers in the rear guard. You can stop glaring at me now.”

“Halt there!” someone shouted. Ger’alin heaved a sigh of relief; there was someone in the vessel after all. “Guards! Guards!” he shouted, calling for reinforcements.

“After him, quickly!” Ger’alin ordered. “Zerith, you…” “…get back with the healers, I know!” the priest shouted over his shoulder as he jogged back to gather in his group.

The fighters quickly readied their weapons, archers drawing back their bows and firing on the lone guard who had spotted them. His body hit the ground with a sickly wet thud just as Ger’alin and Callie reached him. Kneeling down but keeping his sword and shield ready, Ger’alin glanced back up the corridor, watching, waiting for more enemies to come while he felt for a pulse on the man’s neck.

“He’s gone, Gerry,” Callie said quickly, eyeing the corpse. “He was dead before he hit the ground. However, his friends are very much alive and well,” she growled as a group of several dozen guards began pouring out of the doors ahead.

“Come on!” he hissed as he pushed himself back to his feet and ran to meet them.

The familiar song of steel ringing against steel calmed the Blood Knight. The fear that he was being watched, that he was being led into a trap, vanished as he vented his anxiety in combat.

Battering aside the shields of his misguided brothers, Ger’alin sought to take as many of Kael’s followers out of the fight as he could without killing them all. He’d given no special instructions to make attempts to spare those in the Keep; it was a task he’d set for himself.

“As I was forgiven for something I despise myself for doing, so will you be given that chance should you ever awaken from the madness that has gripped you,” he promised to each fighter he managed to render unconscious. Those he was forced to kill received a quick prayer for their souls and the hope that they would find redemption on the other side of life’s veil.

“For the Lady Dawnrunner!” one man roared as he ran into the hallway. Ger’alin gave a start and began looking around frantically, searching for sign of his wife.

“Alayne?” he shouted. “Alayne?!”

“For the Lady Dawnrunner and House Sunstrider!” the man screamed as he hefted a gigantic sword. Ger’alin shuddered when the crowd parted, giving him a clear view of the shouting elf. The Blood Knight’s stomach threatened to empty itself then and there. The man bearing down on them all, a look of absolute hatred etched on his face, was clearly one of the felblood elves. His engorged, swollen features looked twisted and un-naturally large on a delicate frame. His eyes blazed with a perverse fire as he ran at his enemies. His long black hair flowed out behind him, streaming in his wake, making Ger’alin think of black stinger serpents who lay hidden beneath murky waters, waiting to bite an unwary swimmer.

343

“For Alayne Sunrage!” Ger’alin yelled at the top of his lungs as he ran to meet the attacker. The other man blinked, hesitating for just a moment before continuing to press his advance. That split second of hesitation was all Ger’alin needed. He reached the man, battering aside his ferocious attack, deflecting him away from the others with his shield while knocking his legs out from under him with his sword. The felblood leapt back to his feet faster than Ger’alin believed possible and whirled on the Blood Knight. A sickly grin of delight stretched his lips into a rictus. Ger’alin felt butterflies hammering the pit of his stomach with tickling leaden wings as he forced himself to fight the felblood. “Light cleanse away the demonic taint from this man,” he prayed as he fought. Whenever the Light’s energy would surge through Ger’alin, purging the other man of his ill-gotten powers, the other man would roar defiantly and reach out, pulling demonic energies into himself the way Ger’alin and the other sin’dorei sought out sustaining magical energies. As the duel wore on, the felblood began drawing in more and more energies, draining even the enslaved demons commanded by the few warlocks in the Disorder of Azeroth. Still, Ger’alin continued to pray, to call upon the Light to cleanse his opponent and deny him the strength and stamina needed to outlast the younger, more determined Blood Knight. The other fighters formed a ring around them, watching for yet more guards to come spilling out of the rooms. For long moments, Ger’alin and his opponent fought before, at last, shivering with fatigue, the other fighter collapsed to the floor, transforming from felblood into Wretched in the blink of an eye. “Damn you,” he hissed at Ger’alin. “Damn you! Vangri will have your head yet, young whelp!”

“That is neither here nor there,” Ger’alin muttered blankly as he stared at the man in wonder. Did I look that horrible? No wonder she was terrified of me! “Someone tie up the survivors, quickly! We may be fighting their friends any second now.”

The Disorder of Azeroth fell to work, hastily binding the arms, legs, and mouths of those elves still living. The dead, they set to the side. Perhaps when all was said and done, there would be time for funeral rites, Ger’alin thought to himself as he followed his own orders. “We’ll pray for the dead later, Ger’alin,” Zerith muttered as he hefted a particularly large felblood onto his stomach to bind his hands and feet together in the small of his back.

“For now, let’s get on with it. I don’t like that we’re not being attacked. It feels like we’re walking into a trap.”

Ger’alin nodded absently as he stood up and began to walk ahead of the others. It did feel as if it were a trap. ~*~*~*~ “Hurry, hurry,” Kael’thas urged the last of his forces through the portals they had hastily opened. “Our plans must not be thwarted! We will re-gather and regroup at the Sunwell and, once it is ours again, we will take over all of Azeroth and Outland! Hurry!”

Soldiers and magi ran through the portal, not even taking the customary time to orient themselves before walking the corridors of magic. Peering through the hazy window into the sun-drenched realm, the lord of the sin’dorei could see his followers swaying unsteadily on their feet, some even sicking up from their hurried run along the paths of chaos. “This is but a minor set-back,” he promised them as the last one ran through. “Our people will emerge, glorious and victorious, as the Master has promised us!”

“My king, you should step through now,” Telonicus urged Kael’thas. “We will be lost without your leadership.”

“Fear not, Telonicus,” Kael’thas said brightly, “first, I am going to send Voren’thal’s whelps running back to him with their tails tucked between their legs. For far too long I have stood patient, not acting, not responding to his rebellion aside from a few minor skirmishes.

344

No doubt he thinks me weak, soft, complacent. That will never do. I will show him the error of his ways using the powers the Master has granted me.”

“And I will stand at your side, my liege,” Telonicus said. The few remaining sin’dorei echoed his sentiment. Kael’thas smiled at them, his smile a mixture of sadness and delight. “Sanguinar, Thaladred, Capernian, Solarian, you have my eternal gratitude. Your service to House Sunstrider will never be forgotten. Long may your examples shine brightly, lighting the way for our people. Now, let us take care of those who would press their rightful king’s mercy too far.”

“As you will,” Solarian grinned. A commotion at the door turned all of their heads.

“Just a little more!” a man was saying, his voice tight with strain as the heavy doors slowly pushed open.

“A trap,” another man muttered, his soft whisper carrying across the suddenly silent room. “I knew this was a trap, Ger’alin.”

“Greetings my loyal subjects,” Kael’thas sneered, his voice both regal and sarcastic.

The sin’dorei who were pushing through the doors stopped and stared at him. He could see that most of them were mere children. Likely as not, they had never laid eyes on their ruler before this moment. Pity and sorrow welled in the sin’dorei king’s heart as he gazed out upon the rebellious children. Anger surged through his veins as he thought of how cruelly Voren’thal was using such young ones. Sending those barely out of adolescence to attack their rightful king? That was surely a sign that Voren’thal was more than merely misguided; he and the naaru would lead them down a path of sure death and destruction. “And greetings to the rest of you,” he added, bowing majestically to his ‘guests.’ With a wave of his hand, he sent a gust of wind at them, scattering them across the back of the bridge. Whenever the rabble seemed to try to regroup, Kael blew their ranks apart, trying to separate out the elves from the rest of the ruffians. He would not kill his own children if he could avoid it. “Do what you can to get the younglings out of here,” he whispered to his advisors as he prepared yet another powerful gust. This one sent most of the motley crew rolling back into the hallway. Focusing his energy on each elf in turn, Kael’thas did his best to keep them from making it back through the doors, largely succeeding. Youthful sin’dorei faces glared at him as they struggled against winds that made them bend at the waist just to stay standing.

“You see?” he laughed as he cast more spells to keep the sin’dorei out of the ranks of the Horde fighters. “Energy. Power. My people are addicted to it. Our dependence was made manifest only after the Sunwell was destroyed. Welcome to the future,” he grinned, making the motions that set the weapons he’d been given in motion. The eyes of orcs, bull-men, trolls, and even the shambling corpses of unliving, undying humans, widened in shock at the display of power. “A pity you are too late to stop it. No one – not even Voren’thal and his leash-holder, A’dal – can stop me! Selama ashal’anore,” he whispered, casting out a final gust of air that slammed the heavy doors shut, separating the young sin’dorei from the veteran Horde fighters.

Ger’alin could hear the cries of pain and the song of battle through the massive doors.

Jogging back a pace, he ran and slammed into the door with his shoulder, grunting in satisfaction when he felt it shiver. “Come on!” he roared, gesturing for the other strong men to help him force the door open. “We can’t let them fight our ‘lord and king’ for us, can we?”

For long moments, the sin’dorei struggled to force the doors open, cheering whenever one shivered a few inches, groaning when it fell back firmly shut. Ger’alin pounded his fists against the door in frustration when he heard agonized screams. Tears came to his eyes as he redoubled his efforts to get inside the room.

“What’s going on here?” Thalodien demanded as he and the Scryer fighters ran up. “I heard the alarm from outside that the bridge had been breached.”

345

“We got in there but Kael forced us back and now we can’t get the door open!”

Ger’alin explained quickly.

“A likely tale. Is your wife in there?”

“No, she’s not!” Ger’alin screamed, tears of anger and frustration streaking his cheeks. “And if she were in there fighting her friends, I’d still be trying to batter this door down and stop her just as I did the first time! Now, help us!”

“Stand back,” Thalodien said leadenly. “Blast it down,” he ordered his magi curtly.

“Throw whatever you have at it.”

“Do the same,” Zerith ordered the magi among the sin’dorei ranks of the Disorder of Azeroth. “Bring it down.”

Ger’alin stood tensed, on the balls of his feet, rocking while the magi worked to bring the doors down. Every time he heard another cry of pain from the bridge, he winced, urging the magic users to work faster, to strike harder. He wished he could aid them without getting in their way but held himself to the side, knowing that all he would do is get himself hurt. At long last, the doors shivered, splitting apart, allowing the sin’dorei youths and veterans to burst into the room. They were not a moment too soon.

Inside the bridge, facing down the fel, fey lord of the sin’dorei, Callie muttered a quick prayer to the Light as she dove under the guard of a hulking blood elf warrior. The man roared in fury and she grinned. Like most fighters, he was slow compared to her lightning speed. Her grin slid off her face when she found herself on the floor at the fighter’s feet, her back still stinging from the shadow bolt that had slammed her to the ground. As she tried to push herself back up, she felt a boot on her spine, the weight just short of that needed to crush her rib-cage. Grunting, she tried to roll out from under the foot pinning her. “Ah well,” she sighed, giving up the futile struggle. Around the room, members of the Disorder of Azeroth lay where they had fallen. Only a few dozen remained standing and they would not last much longer. “I had a good run. Dying wasn’t so terrible the first time. It’ll be easier this time; I have experience, after all.”

Just as she closed her eyes, hoping she would be reunited with her parents and friends on the other side, she felt the room shiver and heard a loud explosion. An angry roar sailed past her and she felt the weight vanish from her back. Scrambling to her feet, she grinned, seeing Ger’alin pulling his sword out of the man’s throat. “Thanks, Gerry!” she shouted as she rushed back into the fray.

“Yeah, no problem,” he muttered, running after her and doing his best to help bring down the sin’dorei nobles who fought alongside Kael. Whatever reticence they had had earlier about fighting their own young had vanished. “For the Light and Quel’Thalas!”

Ger’alin roared, rallying his forces to finish the fight.

“For the naaru and the Light!” Thalodien echoed with his own war cry.

“The naaru? The naaru?” Kael’thas laughed. “They will never stand against the might of the Legion! And the Light?” he spat. “The Light has abandoned our people!”

“No, my lord,” Ger’alin said coldly, his latest attack bringing him just in front of Kael’thas. “Our people abandoned the Light. You can still turn back. You can still stop this madness. You don’t have to…”

“Turn back?” Kael’thas sneered. “I have not come this far to be turned back! The future I have planned will not be jeopardized! Now, you will taste true power!”

Ger’alin and the others barely had time to gape before Kael’thas hovered high over them, dark energy surrounding him, shattering the crystal window behind him. All of the fighters struggled to stand their ground when the vacuum began pulling everything in the room towards the shattered window. Elves and trolls winced in pain as their ears popped from the sudden change in pressure. Casting glances left and right, Ger’alin shook his head, trying to clear the sudden ringing in his ears, praying he would be able to hear and be heard. Just as 346

the sucking vortex let up, the entire force found themselves suspended in the air. “Having trouble staying grounded?” Kael laughed as he prepared to hurl a fiery bolt at his attackers.

Ger’alin’s stomach lurched and his knees shook when he hit the ground. All around him, he could hear loud groans of pain as the Scryers and the Disorder of Azeroth fell back to earth. Kael stared at them in shock; clearly he had not let them drop. Risking a quick look behind him, Ger’alin could see Zerith, his eyes closed, praying with all of his might for the Light to aid and protect them against the magic of a madman. “Attack!” Ger’alin roared, “bring him down!” Doing his best to dodge the bolts of flame and shadow that flew from Kael’s hands, Ger’alin scrambled about, wondering what to do next.

Uncertain as to whether the others had heard him, Ger’alin began looking about for anything he could hurl at his erstwhile ruler. Other fighters did the same while archers let loose with bows and guns and magi hurled spells that scorched the air, froze it, or made it sing with arcane power. Warlocks reached into the Nether and hurled its energy at Kael, fighting his shadow with shadow of their own. When Ger’alin’s arms shook with the effort of flinging debris at Kael, the lord of the blood elves tumbled to the ground, still staring at his attackers in shock and outrage.

“For the Light!” Ger’alin screamed as he ran in before Kael had a chance to gather himself and call upon his powers once more. The leader of House Sunstrider stared at the paladin in stupefaction, his regally stunned gaze drifting downward to the sword buried in his chest. His finely woven and intricately sewn robes were hung in tatters from the spells that had forced him back to the floor.

“For… Quel…Thalas!” Kael gasped as he shuddered and fell limp. Ger’alin wrenched his blade out of his king’s chest, bending to clean the blood on the dead prince’s torn robes. Kneeling beside him, Ger’alin gently pulled his staring eyes closed and whispered a quick prayer for his fallen leader’s soul.

“Now to find the others,” Ger’alin said loudly, still unable to hear himself speak.

“What about him?” Thalodien asked in the same tone.

“Leave him. Let the dead rest; let’s go seek out the living,” Ger’alin ordered in a tone that brooked no argument. “Come on.”

As the fighters began to make their way out of the room, many cast glances over their shoulders, unable to believe they had just killed one of the most powerful mortals in Outland.

Before he turned down his dark path, Kael’thas had been a legend even among the other races. Seeing his corpse on the floor, blood draining from the mortal wound on his chest, they shivered, in fear and awe of their own strength. Ger’alin and Zerith were the last to leave the room. The priest was on the verge of tears. “Light, I can’t believe…I know he had turned to the Legion…I know he had to be stopped…but…we can never go home…we’re…”

“Home is where ever we are,” Ger’alin said softly, hoping the priest could hear him or could at least read his lips. “And…I can’t believe it either. It was one thing to talk about it, to know he had to be stopped. It’s another to actually be the ones who stopped him. Why us, Zerith? Why do we keep getting mixed up in these things?” he asked plaintively.

“The Light never gives us more than we can bear,” the priest responded numbly, as if by rote.

“Then it’s damned sad that we’re the only ones who seem to be able to bear this,” Ger’alin sighed. “Come on. Let’s search the rest of this vessel and find Alayne. Remember, you should…” “…stay in the back, I know,” Zerith finished tonelessly. Ger’alin strode ahead of him, his steps sure and purposeful. The priest ventured a final gaze at his fallen leader before following after the Blood Knight.

347

Chapter Twenty-two: The Isle of Quel’Danas

G

er’alin’s head hung nearly to his stomach as he trudged slowly out of Tempest Keep. It was all he could do to lift his leaden feet and place one foot in front of the other. Callie patted him on the back sympathetically and Zerith, still shaken from the fight with Kael’thas, murmured useless words of condolence. Even Thalodien tried to lift the fighter out of his funk. But their efforts were to no avail. Ger’alin’s heart felt heavy in his chest as he slunk along the path back to Area 52.

“We’ll find her,” Callie promised. “It’s probably best that she wasn’t in Tempest Keep. She might have gotten hurt in the fighting had she been.”

“Where is she? Where would the rest of them be?” Ger’alin asked bleakly. “I can’t believe…all this way…all of that…for nothing?”

Zerith gave a start. His friend’s last words echoed far too closely what he had heard in that strange dream they had shared. “We’ll find her. I don’t know where Kael’s forces may have hidden themselves, but, we’ll find them. Maybe now that Kael is dead, they’ll be more amendable to surrendering. At least we have put an end to his plot to summon the Legion into our world,” Zerith said, trying to sound relieved but still stunned that it was over. “At least we’ve done that much.”

“The Legion take Quel’Thalas!” Ger’alin snarled. “Let it all burn and let the Scourge overrun the gates but just let us find her and keep her safe! Let my dreams give me some comfort instead of constant torment!”

“Don’t speak so rashly, young man,” Thalodien snapped. “The Legion has suffered a setback with the loss of Kael’thas but there are ever fools willing to do their bidding and bring destruction down on all. Who knows but that these dreams you keep gibbering about are a warning that your wife has gotten mixed in with such as those and may be working, whether she knows it or not, towards the very end you just proclaimed: the Legion taking Quel’Thalas?”

“Where are we going now?” Ger’alin asked, changing the subject.

“We should return to Shattrath with news of Kael’s demise,” Thalodien replied.

Zerith nodded in agreement. “A’dal will be most pleased to hear that the Legion is no longer our most immediate threat.”

“Indeed,” Zerith said softly, still unable to get his mind around the idea. “And, perhaps he will have advice for us on how we can locate and reach out to our wayward brethren.”

“You do realize that, for all your fine words, they will still all stand trial and likely be executed for their part in this insanity?”

“I will not stand idly by while…,” Ger’alin growled.

“Those who deserve death will receive it if the Light so wills,” Zerith cut in quickly, forestalling a fight. “Those who merit mercy will receive that. No, hear me, Thalodien. Stop staring down your nose at me just because I’m young enough to be your son and listen. You, too, Ger’alin. Many of those among our brothers following Kael do deserve to be put to death for their crimes. However, many of them do not. Unless you have the wisdom to tell me 348

which belong to each group, we will err on the side of mercy and imprison them. Can you tell me, before the Light and your own soul, that you have such wisdom, Thalodien? That Voren’thal has it? A’dal? I confess freely that I do not possess that knowledge. Therefore, I will only kill those who force my hand.”

“Where do they find you?” Thalodien said with a mirthless grin. “Tell me, young man, are so many your age as thoughtful and clear-headed as you are?”

“You’d be surprised,” Ger’alin said quietly. “Us ‘children’ who have seen war and death, seen or heard our parents slaughtered by the Scourge, buried them, buried our brothers and sisters who succumbed to their addictions, watched friends and new family fall into the ranks of the Wretched…well, your ‘children’ might just surprise you with how old we can feel,” he sighed wearily. “You two continue whatever discussion you feel you must have. I’m going on to Shattrath and sleep. Light send me no dreams this night,” he prayed frantically as he strode away. “Otherwise, I may never sleep again.”

“I would offer to find him a keg of ale and let him get roaring drunk,” Callie muttered as she watched him slump away. “However, the last time I did that, it caused no end of trouble. At least Ta’sia is far away,” she grinned. “Though, really, that isn’t funny anymore.

Zerith, when we finally find Alayne, I am going to torment her with pranks for the rest of her life.”

“Just leave Dar’ja and me out of it and we’ll be more than happy to help you,” Zerith grinned. “Now, come on. We’ve got a long journey back to Shattrath and I want to have a long talk with my new friend Thalodien here,” he said, clapping the man on the shoulder, “about where he thinks the elves from Tempest Keep may be hiding and how they could be approached without starting a civil war.” ~*~*~*~ “I must not give in to despair,” Ger’alin reminded himself as he rode along the cobblestone pathways through Zangarmarsh. In the four days since the battle of Tempest Keep, it had been all he could do to remain calm and even-tempered. The day before, when they had found a set of Alayne’s robes and a wood-carving he’d made for her during her illness, Ger’alin had thought his heart would break from the strain of not being with her. “I do no good to myself or to her if I curl up in a ball and sulk. I have to find her. I have to! Oh, Light, Alayne, why do you do this? Why did I ever force you away? No, stop,” he told himself firmly. “You know what you did and you know what you must do to make it right.

No more gibbering over it. You can weep in thankfulness and remorse when she’s back in your arms again. Not before!”

“How much longer do you think it will be before he explodes?” Zerith asked Callie in an undertone. Everyone had been giving the fighter wide berth since leaving Tempest Keep.

Callie shrugged helplessly.

“Six months ago, I’d have said he would already be curled up under his blankets refusing to get up. That he’s riding and sitting up fairly straight when he’s in this bad a mood has me surprised. Pleasantly surprised. Maybe he is getting a better handle on those black moods of his.”

“Let that be what it is,” Zerith prayed. “I don’t know if I can deal with the disappointment of him reverting to his earlier illness right now. Bad enough that we have no sign of Alayne. But to also have no clue where they might be hiding now… Light, I just hope the naaru have answers.”

Zerith felt the muscles in his shoulders relaxing as the peaceful golden city of Light came into view over the hill. A smile began stretching his lips and it was all he could do to keep from urging El’a to a trot. Crossing the bridges into the city, he felt a sensation he’d 349

once thought he’d only feel returning to the house Mir’el had given them in Silvermoon. He felt as if he had come home. Seeing Dar’ja tear away from Jez’ral and come running up the bridge to him made Zerith realize why he felt that way. Home was where ever his family was.

As soon as Alayne was found, he truly would be home once more.

“We heard there was a battle,” Dar’ja said breathlessly as she tried to untangle herself from his stirrup. In running to greet her husband, she had tried to leap onto El’a’s back. She’d succeeded only in getting hung up in the hawkstrider’s saddle and nearly pulling Zerith off his mount. “That you fought Kael. Did you find her? Is she safe? Why is Ger’alin so glum?

She wasn’t…killed, was she?”

“There was a battle,” he said, responding to her first point. “And yes, Kael is dead.

May the Light forgive him his madness and show him the error of his ways. We never saw Alayne. We did manage to find a few of her personal effects left over in a room that Thalodien says was one of the officer’s quarters but nothing more. I think she’s probably with the elves who evacuated from…”

“She’s got to be fine,” Dar’ja said, eyeing Ger’alin’s back. “Light, it will kill him if she’s not. How has he been handling it?”

“Better than I would have, truth be told,” Zerith sighed.

“I want to go home,” Jez’ral said plaintively when the priest dismounted, disentangled his wife from his arms, and began walking towards the structure where A’dal lived. “We’re hearing the strangest rumors, Zerith, about something going on in Silvermoon. I want to get back there. Mir’el might be…”

“Mir’el will be fine. Alayne will be fine. Everyone will be fine. Everything’s over!” he replied, exasperated. “Kael’s dead, his soul has gone to its final judgment before the Light of the universe and the Legion will not find a replacement for him quickly. We’ve been granted a reprieve, Jez’ral. Let’s not search out further trouble until it searches out us.”

“But…the rumors…the pilgrims say that two days ago…”

“Don’t listen to rumors. Listen to the truth. It’s over. We’ve won.”

“A bitter victory it is, though,” Ger’alin said pitifully. “We still have no idea where my wife is or where the rest of the elves who followed Kael’thas are hiding.”

“We’ll go look up by Kazzak’s throne,” Zerith suggested. “Or over in the mountains of Nagrand where you saw those servants of the Legion. Perhaps Kael saw the attack coming once the shield was down and decided to try to regroup with his allies elsewhere. Thalodien thinks it’s possible – even likely – that we’ll find them among the orcs or demons of Outland.”

“I’m not certain I want to go back to Kazzak’s throne,” Jez’ral said, his face pale and lips green. “It wasn’t pleasant the first time.”

“Steel yourself for it, man. We’re going to find her and then we’re all going to retire some place nice and sunny,” Zerith said cheerfully. “And we’re going to stuff her mattress full of itchweed and forbid her from leaving the house without one of us tied to her ankle. I’m sure Ger’alin will be happy to volunteer for that.”

“Ger’alin doesn’t feel like joking around,” the paladin sighed heavily. “Ger’alin just wants to sleep. Come wake me in a few hours, Zerith, and make me eat. Light, she…where is she?” he asked, rubbing a thumb along the carving he’d found. “I need to find her. I won’t rest until she’s at my side again. Light save me from dodging my fate and save her from trying to confront it.”

“You’re truly convinced you should have died in the Black Temple?” Jez’ral asked curiously. Ger’alin nodded numbly. “You’re a bigger fool than I ever thought, young man,” Jez’ral snapped, seemingly filled with his former vinegar. “Mir’el thought he should have died several times. Each time, it took me years to convince him he was being an idiot. The first time was when he and I escaped from Zul’Aman,” Jez’ral sighed, remembering his 350

frantic flight from the troll stronghold with his best friend’s limp body draped over his shoulder. “He didn’t speak for a month after that. It scared the life out of me and Miris. She couldn’t even get him to laugh when she accidentally-on-purpose set Tal’ar’s hair on fire. Oh, what a time that was,” he grinned, remembering the day Mir’el had seen a way out of his arranged marriage. “The next time was when he passed out after seeing Archimonde begin ascending the World Tree. It was almost a decade before he accepted that I was right; he did not have the power to single-handedly slay that monster. His passing out was a normal reaction to seeing a demonic general a hundred times larger and millions of times wiser and more powerful than anything Mir’el had forced out of the Nether. He may lecture me until the sun grows cold about my attempt to control Magtheridon,” Jez’ral winced, both dreading and savoring the yelling he would face when Mir’el learned of that particular piece of stupidity, “but he’ll lecture you doubly so for making the same mistake he’s made himself twice. Our lives, regardless of what the naaru believe – regardless of what you devotees of the Light may hold to – are not scripted out! I have heard more nonsense about fate, destiny, and accepting one’s given path this month than I care to hear for the rest of my days. It’s garbage, Ger’alin Sunrage, son of the Sunrage clan of Windrunner Village. Nothing is decided; nothing is predestined. We are here to do what best we can and then we stand account for ourselves in the great hereafter. Therefore, you were not fated to die at Illidan’s hands in the Black Temple. Alayne is not fated to die from messing with the Vials. She may very well get herself killed if she’s not found before…”

“She joined with Kael’s forces,” Ger’alin interrupted. “She took the Vials to them.

She, apparently, from what Ben’lir has told me, single-handedly increased production in his manaforges by an unbelievable amount. She…” “She was my best student,” Jez’ral said proudly. “Of course she could go up there and shake things up, get them working faster and more efficiently. She tested for Mastery of Demonology a full two decades before she should have. Alayne, like her mother, has a mind like a steel trap and absorbs knowledge like a sponge. But she’s not fated to die. Frankly, young as she is, inexperienced as she is, ignorant as she is, I’d give her almost even odds on using those Vials and surviving intact. But why would she join with Kael?” he asked, suddenly seeming to realize what Ger’alin had said. “She…did she really betray us?” he demanded, almost as heartsick as he had been the day he thought Miris had betrayed Mir’el.

“We don’t know why she did as she has done,” Zerith explained gently. “I’m sure she had her reasons, though. Perhaps she…no, I can’t even speculate as to why she would have joined Kael’s side. The important thing to know is that he’s dead now. The war is over. Now we just have to find my sister and then find a home.”

“That house in Nagrand is almost finished,” Jez’ral said absently. “Garrosh sent a messenger over yesterday saying that all Ger’alin needed to do was paint the interior.

Apparently, orcs have no idea which colors go best with the curtains Alayne had picked out.”

“That’s not orcs. That’s just men in general,” Dar’ja grinned. “So, there’s another reason to go up to Kazzak’s throne. We need to get Alayne to finish the interior decorating.

We’re going to find her, Ger’alin. Now that the war is over, we’ll find her and I’m sure that Shattrath will show her mercy. It’s always easy to be generous once your opponent has been soundly beaten.”

“I have to find her,” Ger’alin said desperately. “Something tells me that until she’s found, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’m going to go try to find some rest – and maybe some answers – while I can. Wake me in a few hours. Zerith, you make the report to A’dal. I don’t think I could right now if I wanted to.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Zerith growled irritably. “Yes, you can go take a nap. But after we have reported to A’dal. I’m not going to make you speak, Ger’alin, but you are not going to deny yourself your proper part in this victory so you can sulk over not finding Alayne. I’m 351

just as upset – albeit, in a very different manner – as you are about that. But hiding away and pining will do nothing but set you back in a black depression again and who knows that you’ll find the strength to crawl out of that hole another time?”

Ger’alin stared at his friend, his look somewhat wry and weighing. Gesturing, he motioned for the priest to take the lead. “All right, my Queen,” he said, trying to lighten his voice and failing. “We’ll do this your way for now. But when my wife is back safe where she belongs, the first person to pelt her with itchweed had better be me.”

“We’ll have the ointment ready and a good excuse for us to be at least twenty miles away,” Zerith grinned. “Now, come on. The battle is over. Let us begin the celebration here and now. It will only be that much brighter once my little sister has been found.” ~*~*~*~ The bustle and noise in the building housing the brilliant white naaru jarred Ger’alin.

Kael’thas was dead. Alayne was still missing. Whether Zerith wanted to believe it or not, the elven people still stood poised on the edge of a civil war unless Kael’s followers surrendered peacefully and could be spared their lives. And yet, despite all of these things that the Blood Knight felt should have made the world tremble; should have made it stand still; people still came to and fro on errands. Priests still consulted with the naaru on matters of faith and healing. Children still frolicked about. Khadgar still stood sentinel next to A’dal, working with the naaru to keep playing the Aldor and Scryers off each other while running the vast city of refuge. It all seemed so out-of-place to Ger’alin. Nothing had changed. Yet everything had changed.

“Mister Ger’alin!” Sar’la cried out, waving enthusiastically. “Did you win the war?

Did you find Miss Alayne?”

“I need to talk to A’dal now, Sar’la,” Ger’alin said kindly. “I’ll tell you all about it later. But no, we haven’t found Miss Alayne. She’s probably fine; we just didn’t find her this time.”

“Can I stay and hear you talk to A’dal?” Sar’la asked. “I like it when he talks to people. He has a pretty voice. It’s like bells.”

“Sar’la, this is not business you need to hear. You wouldn’t understand it anyhow.

Besides, I want to tell you all about it myself. You’re not going to be so mean as not to let me?” he asked, remembering how his mother used to guilt trip him into quitting badgering her for stories. Just as it had with him, the ploy worked with the little girl who suddenly was all reassurances that she would only hear about the battle from her big fighter friend. She promised, quite vehemently, to run back to Lower City on the moment and to keep her ears plugged solidly so no one but Ger’alin could tell her about the battle that had won the war.

“You’ll make a great father one day,” Zerith observed. Ger’alin blushed from his toes to his hairline. “Not for at least another fifty years, though, I hope.”

“You and me both,” Ger’alin said breathlessly. “Though…no, that’s not any of your concern, is it? She would have told you if she wanted you to know. She’d skin me and use my hide for a rug if I let that slip.”

“What? She’d better not be…no wonder you’re so frantic!”

“What? No!” he shouted. “No, she is not! But…gah! She thinks in three years or so she’ll…you know…for the first time…oh, don’t make me talk about it,” he growled. “Light knows I could have done without that bit of information myself. Don’t we have a report to give?” he asked, clearing his throat. Zerith took pity on the embarrassed man recalling his own mortification when his father had explained the facts-of-life to him.

352

“Yes, we do. Might as well get this over with,” Zerith sighed. “Then you can go crawl into bed and blush beneath the covers,” he grinned. “It’s not that bad. You’ll just have to be careful for a while, I suppose.”

“Shut up.”

“A’dal,” Zerith said loudly, his voice carrying throughout the crowded building. “We bring good tidings from Tempest Keep. The vessel which was stolen from your people is now yours to reclaim. The elves dwelling within it have fled. That brings me to my next point: Kael’thas Sunstrider – he who would ally with the Burning Legion and summon our destroyers into our world – has been killed. Not even a week gone my fellows and I, along with Thalodien and many of the Scryers stationed in the Netherstorm, infiltrated the manaforges, brought the shield protecting Tempest Keep down, and stormed the vessel. We found it strangely empty, coming across only Kael’thas and a few of his most devoted followers. They gave battle and we returned the favor, killing all of them in the process. Had any survived or surrendered, we would have brought them to you for you to pronounce the Light’s justice upon them.”

Zerith felt the naaru’s excitement tickle across his mind as A’dal relayed the information to his fellows. Then, using his vast mental powers, the naaru called for silence across all of Shattrath. “The threat of the Legion has been repulsed,” A’dal announced joyously. “The Disorder of Azeroth, led by Zerith Lightbinder and Ger’alin Sunrage, along with the Scryers under the command of Voren’thal’s appointed spymaster, Thalodien, have defeated Kael’thas Sunstrider! The time to strike out at the remaining supporters of the Burning Legion is at hand! Warriors of Shattrath, defenders of life and Light, take up your arms and let my battle song empower you!”

Ger’alin sensed his depression lifting and his soul lightening as the naaru’s mystical song coursed through his veins, heating his blood while calming and uplifting his soul.

Expressions of wonder painted the faces of all around the Blood Knight and the gentle yet forceful melodies emanating from the being of Light made the entire city seem to reverberate, hum, and sing with power.

Just as the song reached its zenith, dark clouds gathered over the city. Ger’alin reached for his sword before he recalled that weapons did no good against weather. “Hell of a time for a rainstorm,” he thought to himself.

Suddenly, flames appeared in the building around A’dal. Ger’alin gasped and jumped back away from the ethereal fires. Surprisingly, he felt no heat and the fires themselves gave off no light. Instead, they seemed to deepen the shadows and drink in the light, dimming the brightly-lit building. The hair on the back of Ger’alin’s neck stood up as the image of Kael’thas appeared hovering in the air in the midst of the fire. The elven ruler’s face carried a mocking sneer. His eyes shone with hard contempt as he stared down his regal nose at the naaru hovering just below his apparition’s waist.

“Your monkeys failed to finish the job, naaru!” Kael’thas jeered. “Beaten but alive…

The same mistake was not made when we took command of your vessel. And all for what?

Trinkets? The ship? You are too late. The preparations have already begun. Soon the master will make his return. There is nothing that you can do to stop me! You have served me in your own right, naaru – albeit unwittingly. I suggest you lay down your arms and succumb to the might of Kil’jaeden!” he laughed, his laughter ringing throughout the city, haunting in its hysteria. “The world will burn!”

The ethereal flames flashed, becoming real. Ger’alin threw himself to the floor, feeling their searing heat wash over him. Throughout the building – throughout the city – people cried out in pain and shock as the fel fires burned through clothing and flesh.

“Be at peace,” A’dal sang softly. The fires died away as a gentle, cooling wind blew down from the mountains of Nagrand. “It seems that the war has not ended; the battle has 353

only begun. Be healed by the Light and take up arms against the Legion, my brothers and sisters in battle!”

“But he was dead!” Ger’alin exclaimed, confused. “I killed him. My sword pierced his heart! Light, we entombed him, sealing him in his chamber! He died!”

“The Burning Legion has access to many powers contrary to the order of existence,” A’dal murmured gently. “Recall the tainted Scourge that wracked your homeland?”

“He’s an undead?” Zerith sputtered. “Light of heaven!”

“Things are not always as they seem, young priest, young warrior. Take up your weapons and hold to your faith. They will guide you through the darkest corridor and into the Light of creation itself,” A’dal whispered cryptically, for the pair’s ears alone. Ger’alin and Zerith exchanged confused glances.

“Dark corridor?” Ger’alin shuddered. “Light, let it be a coincidence!” ~*~*~*~ Liadrin sighed and rolled over in her bed, wondering what it was that had woken her from sound slumber. The rain pelting her window might have been the cause only she knew she slept more soundly when it rained. “It drowns out the sounds of combat that ring in my ears so often of late,” she sighed to herself. Sitting up on her bed, she swung her legs over the side, slid her feet into slippers, and propped her elbows on her knees. Rubbing her eyes, she ran a hand through her red-brown hair and tried to block out the memories that haunted her every night.

Every night, as the Lady Liadrin, leader of the Blood Knights, first initiate into the methods of wresting power from the creature M’uru; every night, she had the same dream.

She could recall the fall of Quel’Thalas and the desperate defensive that ended with the Sunwell’s destruction. She could recall how, after the battle, the Light had abandoned her, refusing to grant her pleas for healing for her companions. She could recall, even now, the tears that had streamed down her face as she sought the Light, begging to know why she could no longer feel the comforting glow that had come with her service to the divine.

“Be at ease, Liadrin. The Light has forsaken our people. I would call us the ‘Forsaken’ to remind all of that but that name is too ill-omened,” Kael’thas had told her when she went to her prince with her concerns. “Long have you served my house well. For that service, I offer you a gift too long denied you. Recently, we came across a new stronghold for our people in the promised paradise of Outland. Guarding our new haven was this strange nexus of pure holy energy. Those who are sensitive to it claim that the creature calls itself ‘M’uru’ and say that it is part of a race of ‘naaru.’ I know little of such matters. However, though I possess little talent for holy matters, even I can sense the pure energies flowing from this…thing,” he’d said, sounding confused as to what to call the naaru. “I want you to return to Silvermoon with it. Select the most adept Magisters to aid you in studying it. Perhaps this creature offers a new source for our people to feed from now that the Light has so cruelly abandoned us to our addiction,” he’d concluded bitterly.

Liadrin, faithful to her prince’s orders, had brought the creature back to Silvermoon.

Imprisoning it beneath the Blood Knight’s stronghold, she and several Magisters had spent months studying the conflux of energies, learning how to tap into them, how to wrest them to serve their wishes. One of the happiest days she could recall since the Sunwell’s destruction had been the day she’d felt the pure, clean, holy energy of the Light being bent to her will. As the Light had abandoned her, leaving her to slavery to her kind’s addiction, so she now enslaved the Light, forcing it to serve those it had forsaken.

“Surely that’s not what woke me from a sound sleep,” she muttered to herself. “I stopped feeling guilty about forcing that creature to serve us long ago. If it were really as 354

powerful as it claims, it could blast us to the boundaries of the universe. No, it’s just as blind as we were when we served the Light. One day, it will understand and it will aid us, twisting the Light to serve those who deserve it!”

“M’uru understands many things,” a soft voice whispered, making Liadrin leap from her bed and reach for her sword. “He is wise. But soon, he will be gone.”

“That thing can’t die,” Liadrin snorted. “And its energy constantly replenishes what we draw. The more we draw, the more and the swifter the regeneration. Truly, it is a miraculous thing and a great gift from our ruler to his people.”

“You’ve learned your lessons well,” the stranger said calmly. “Too well. What one has been given, one can lose. One will lose, in this case.”

“Who are you to sneak into my chamber at night?” the leader of the Blood Knights demanded irritably, looking about for the speaker. There, in a dark corner of the room, stood a figure swathed in thick robes, a cowl pulled low over its face. Wide sleeves hid the hands and Liadrin squinted, trying to tell if it were male or female.

“I have come only to tell you this. The Light did not abandon you. The pain of the Scourge obscured your faith.”

“Who are you to tell me what I felt?!”

“Your fear choked the prayers in your throat.”

“Who are you?”

“It was always there. It remains there. Venture to Shattrath and learn the ways of the naaru. Study under A’dal. Bring our people out of the shadow and into the Light. Soon they will have need of your guidance, your strength, your wisdom, and your compassion, Lady Liadrin. Seek out A’dal.”

“Who or what is this ‘A’dal?’ Who are you? What in the name of the Titans is going on?” she demanded as the alarm gongs began ringing throughout the city. Striding over to the dark corner, she reached for the shadowy being, her hand stretching out to rip the cowl back and reveal the face hidden beneath.

“Lady Liadrin! My Lady Liadrin! We’re under attack!” she heard Champion Vranesh scream from within the keep. “My Lady, it is…oh Light preserve us! It’s blood-drinkers! And they…is that…no! That cannot be! My lord, why…” she heard him gasp. Darting for the door, she picked up her shield and, careless of the fact that she stood in a linen gown and thin slippers, raced out to meet their attackers.

The figure in the shadowy corner faded away, borne off by the same wings of magic that had made it manifest. “Go to Shattrath,” the creature whispered to the empty room. “You won’t want to be in Quel’Thalas when the end finally comes. Light give me strength to finish my task,” the being prayed. “And, should I fail, let her bring the Light back where my darkness has fallen. Dar’ja always spoke so highly of Lady Liadrin. If anyone is stubborn enough to bring our people out of evil, it’s her.” ~*~*~*~ Liadrin sat, numb and dumb, staring at the empty chamber. Where once the naaru M’uru had hung in the air, his energies siphoned off by powerful Magisters who taught the method to any wishing to learn, now only empty space greeted her gaze. “He’s gone.”

“Why would our prince attack us? Had he wanted to see the creature, we would have allowed him in here without any protest. He gave it to us, did he not? Is he not pleased with our order, Lady Liadrin?”

“I…I do not know,” she said, still in shock. “He bade me lead the Blood Knights and bade me transform them into a force to be feared in the four corners of Azeroth. He had me send the best out to him in our promised paradise, saying that in Outland, they could 355

complete their training. Did he mean ‘drink demon blood’ by that?” she shuddered, seeing the engorged and swollen faces of some of her former students float in her mind’s eye. “How could our prince…”

“Perhaps it was the only way, Solanar,” Astalor sighed. “We did feed off fel energies ourselves to stave off the madness, did we not?”

“Feeding off of impure energies is one thing,” Liadrin shivered. “To drink demon blood is something else entirely! Is that what we have sunk to? Instead of enslaving and destroying demons, now we ally with them? Or did you not see that…thing with him? He greeted it as an old friend!”

“Apparently, it saved his life,” Solanar said evenly. “You heard him say that if that demoness had not used her magic, he would still be lying in state in Tempest Keep.”

“And, for that, what? He gives a demon the very salvation of our people?” Liadrin demanded angrily. “He takes away our very source of powers and hands it over to the Legion? To the ones responsible for creating the Scourge that destroyed our birthright? Has our prince gone mad?”

“You are speaking treason, Liadrin,” Astalor muttered. “Myself, though, I have to say that, like you, I’m beginning to wonder. Has our prince gone mad? He attacked his own city!

Why? We would have given him a grand entry any time he cared to return. Our people would have willingly died for him! Why kill them so senselessly? Why take their blood by force when they would have spilled it at his mere request?”

“Astalor, Solanar, go and see to healing those who survived,” Liadrin sighed.

Standing up, she dusted her hands on her nightgown, surprised to see streaks of blood and soot staining the once-pure white linen. “Lord Theron will want to hear my report and then…then…I have a journey to undertake and answers I must find.”

“Where are you going, my Lady?” Solanar asked politely.

“To the promised land,” she muttered. “I leave the Blood Knights in your charge while I am gone, Solanar. See to their training as best you can. Perhaps in Outland, I can find a source of power that our prince won’t be able to wrest away from us so easily. At the very least, I can find out what is going on. No doubt Lor’themar will want to know as much as well.”

“Light see you safe on your journey, sister,” Astalor breathed. “For now, let us keep all of this to ourselves. What will you report?”

“That our prince and his…felblood followers,” she grimaced, “attacked without warning and abducted M’uru. That we did not lift blade or spell to defend ourselves until well after several of our students and adepts lay dead on the carpet. And that…that I’m going to learn more about M’uru. I know enough about him,” she sighed. “It’s his kind I must study.”

“They are…impressive,” Astalor whispered into her ear. “But do not let their piety sway you. Remember, the Light abandoned us to our deaths! It has only been by taking back what it denied us that we have survived.”

“I will keep that in mind, Astalor,” she said evenly. “For now, I need a bath, a change of clothes, and a peace of mind I don’t think I’ll ever find again.” ~*~*~*~ Kael’thas rubbed the crystal embedded in his chest irritably. The skin around it itched fiercely and he could feel the pull against his lungs whenever he drew breath. A heat he couldn’t remember feeling in life emanated from him and no amount of cool water could soothe the feeling that he was standing too near a fire. Behind and above him, the being known as naaru chimed away sorrowfully. Had the elf king a soul still, he might have been moved by the creature’s mournful peals.

356

Walking purposefully up the corridor was a figure he thought he recognized. A cowl framed her face and her gaze was abstracted, lost in thought as she was. “Ah, yes,” he whispered to himself. “The Lady Dawnrunner. My dear Alayne,” he said aloud, making her jump in fright. “How go the final preparations?”

“They go quite well, my King,” she said breathlessly. Her expression was one of fear mixed with disgust. Kael’thas sighed. He knew that he looked the worse for his experiences but there was little he could do about that now. Soon, he would be restored to his former glory and beauty along with the rest of his people and his homeland. Until then, he would bear the scars and the ghastly fel crystal that kept him alive proudly. “I believe we can begin using the Vials soon.”

“They have not told you?” Kael’thas smiled. Alayne flinched; his toothy grin looked far too much like a death mask. “The Vials will be useful, yes, but the true power of the Sunwell remains. It has been hidden away, kept safe from those like Dar’khan who would seek to use it for their own selfish ends instead of to the glory and restoration of our people.

Come with me, my dear. I will complete your education.”

Alayne fell in step just a pace behind Kael’thas, wondering what he was talking about.

She’d been wary of him ever since his miraculous recovery. Before, he had merely seemed fel and fey. Now, he reminded her almost of the Scourge she’d fought against and alongside what seemed a lifetime ago. “Light,” she prayed silently, “do not let his fate be mine. Let me pass peacefully to the next stage of existence. Do not let that demoness bring me back like she did with him. I beg of you to spare me that fate.”

“The Sunwell’s essence was not destroyed when the Sunwell itself was. Instead, it was hidden away, disguised from those who might twist it to their own service. Indeed, it was a rather cunning plot – no one, save myself and my closest compatriots know where it may be found. Now that the time has come to begin releasing its essence back into the well itself, you will learn the secret known to precious few. In there,” he gestured to a doorway leading just off the side of the room where the Sunwell’s remnants were protected from the elements and the invaders. Alayne pushed open the door and gasped. Surrounded and shielded by eredar sorcerers was a young human woman. She could have been one of Alayne’s age-mates for her youth but a world-weariness about her eyes put her age far older than that of any living sin’dorei. “Meet Anveena,” Kael’thas grinned. “She looks real, does she not? A convincing disguise for the pure essence of the Sunwell.”

“A disguise I may once have been, Prince Sunstrider,” the human said calmly, “yet you have given me life! I beg of you, let me go. I have friends; I have a family now. Let me go. I don’t want to die…”

“Hush,” the elven king said coldly. “You are nothing. You are not a human; you are our people’s birthright and only hope. You will help me restore them and help me summon our savior. Alayne,” he said, turning back to the young sin’dorei warlock who had served him so well and faithfully, “I can only entrust you with this great task. None of the others have the talent or the dedication to do it. You must attune yourself with Anveena and let the Sunwell’s essence flow through your body and soul and back into the golden pool outside. The water from the Vials will form the base of the font for you to draw upon as you filter the essence back into its rightful format. However, as it could take days – weeks, even – for you to discover the frequency required for a successful effort, I would have you start immediately.

The eredar will guard you and keep you safe from all disturbances. I will have Vangri move your belongings to this chamber. Unfortunately, you will have to share it with the others,” he sighed. “The circumstances demand it. Should you need the Vials to aid you, simply send word and I will have them sent to you.”

“As you wish it, my Lord, so shall your servant humbly obey,” Alayne said softly, spreading her skirts. Sitting on a purple cushion near the wall, she tucked her legs beneath her 357

and began attempting to create the resonance between herself and the human that would unlock the power of the Sunwell. From her childhood, she could easily recall the vibrations of the well itself. Once she had opened the mystical pathway of power, she could channel it into the pool where, with the help of the Magisters following Kael, its power would be unleashed, reigniting the Sunwell. A simple plan; much simpler than the one she had developed on her own. “Much neater, as well,” she murmured to herself.

“A true wonder,” Kael’thas thought smugly. “The Master will be most pleased with one such as her on our side. I wonder, though, if Baron Darkweaver will be joining us. He has not responded to my invitations. Ah well. Mir’el was ever a strange and reserved one; she takes after him strongly with her modesty and her refusal to accept elevation.” Nodding to himself, he turned to leave the room. “Guard her with your lives or the Master will erase your very existence,” he said warningly to the eredar. “He will be most displeased if his arrival is delayed by even a minute.”

The eredar watched the elven king stroll off, shaking their heads knowingly. Kael’thas was a true fool. Once this child of his had reignited the mystical font of power, Kil’jaeden would consume it. After that, he would consume the world that had so frequently thwarted the might of the Burning Legion.

“At long last,” one of the eredar hissed in his native tongue, “these creatures will serve us and scream for a merciful death.”

“Our time is at hand. Azeroth and the riches the Dark Master’s kind left laying about will be ours! And then the universe will answer only to the might of Kil’jaeden!” his fellow replied, smiling darkly. ~*~*~*~ “But I saw him die! We saw his dead body! There is no way he could have survived a sword through the heart, Zerith!”

“Ger’alin, will you stop telling me what I already know.”

“But he died! No one comes back from beyond! That only happens in stories!”

“Exhibit one to disprove that,” Zerith sighed, pointing at Callie. The Forsaken shrugged uncomfortably.

“But even if he did come back from the dead, wouldn’t he be a mindless… no offense, Callie!”

“None taken,” she sighed.

“Wouldn’t he be a mindless minion of the Legion?”

“What’s to say he isn’t?” Zerith asked rhetorically. “Light, you’ve heard the rumors coming from the lips of the latest pilgrims through the Dark Portal.”

“Very well. For the sake of argument, I’ll grant that he either somehow miraculously survived a fatal wound and managed to convincingly play dead for several days or he found a cure for dying. Still, why would he attack his own city? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“We need to return there at once,” Jez’ral interjected. “If there was a battle, people could be hurt.”

“I’m sure Mir’el is fine,” Ger’alin said absently. “But why would he attack his own city, Zerith?”

“I give up,” the priest groaned, throwing his hands into the air. “I don’t know the answer to that one. None of the pilgrims know either. All I know is that everything says he’s in Quel’Thalas now and that’s where we should be headed. Instead, we’re sitting on our hands, out here, in Outland, trying to keep the Aldor and Scryer from each other’s throats!

Light of heaven preserve me but I thought that older heads were supposed to be cooler and wiser!”

358

“Sometimes they’re just more stubborn,” Voren’thal said softly, making Zerith jump.

“My own followers won’t even listen to me anymore. The Aldor are angry; they believe we let Kael escape.”

“He. Was. Dead!” Ger’alin screamed, clawing his hair. “Who in their right minds guards a dead man?”

“They know that as well as I do, Sunrage,” Voren’thal sighed. “They don’t want to believe it. They need someone to blame. Truth be told, were the shoe on the other foot, I don’t think we sin’dorei would do any differently.”

“We didn’t let him escape,” Ger’alin groused. “We killed him. He was dead. And even if he did somehow survive death – death! – why would he attack his own city. Until we ventured out here and learned the truth, we ourselves revered Kael as our savior and as the one who would lead us back to our rightful places in the world. All he would have to do is stride up to the gates of Silvermoon and all of the red carpeting in the city would be rolled out for him! Why would he attack? Why?” “No one knows,” Zerith said softly. “Not that it matters. He’s attacked our homeland.

Perhaps…perhaps we can return now and give aid where needed. Certainly many would have been injured or killed in such a battle. More killed than injured, I fear,” the priest said in a whisper. Voren’thal looked at him shrewdly. “They wouldn’t fight back against their king, their hero, their savior. They would have been like lambs led to the slaughter. Damn him!

Why?” Ger’alin, frustrated and unable to express his ire, slammed his fist into the wall. The room’s shaking made everyone jump in fright. Callie blinked and stared at the fighter, giving a startled yelp when one of the magical snow globes tottered off the shelf it sat on and crashed to the floor, spilling water and dust all over the carpet. “WHY? And is she safe?”

Ger’alin yelled, leaning his forehead against the wall and ramming his fist against it until his knuckles were mere strips of meat.

“Calm down, Gerry. Calm down,” Callie said soothingly. “Surely she’s run away from him by now. I mean, she’d never go along with attacking her homeland. She may even be on her way back out here to us as we speak.”

“First the Scourge,” Ger’alin snarled. “Then Dar’khan. Now our dead king? Every time we rebuild and recover, another attack comes! What’s the point anymore? Argh,” he growled, shaking his bloody fist. “I’m going to go vent my frustrations working the blade until I can think more clearly. I’m no good to anyone like this. But why?” he demanded.

“Voren’thal, you followed him for years. You know Kael better than any of us. We were all too young and too common to be worth his notice. Why would he ever attack his homeland?”

“I cannot say,” Voren’thal said slowly. “It makes no sense to me. He would be welcomed in like a conquering hero. Perhaps…perhaps he showed up with his new ‘allies’ and it became clear even to the most fanatically loyal sin’dorei that he’s binding our people to the Legion. Or, perhaps he wanted something that our people would not part with even for their king. I do not know, Ger’alin. I wish to the Light that I did.”

“The next time, I’ll let this heal on its own,” Zerith warned as he grabbed the man’s hand. “I’ve told you before not to do this.”

“I know, Father Zerith,” Ger’alin said, trying to make light of the situation and failing.

“But, I just can’t help but feel so frustrated hearing this and not knowing…”

“I understand. I would have done the same,” Zerith said calmly as he worked his healing magic. “Go work your sword with Tau’re until you’re too tired to do anything other than collapse. At the very least, you won’t notice how worried you are when you’re unconscious. And, if I hear anything, even a far-fetched rumor, I’ll come find you,” the priest promised.

359

~*~*~*~ “You lost focus there at the end, my friend,” Tau’re said gravely as he held out a hand to help Ger’alin back to his feet.

“I wouldn’t know why,” Ger’alin snorted. “My dead prince is alive again; my wife is Light knows where; my homeland has been attacked by my dead-but-alive-and-well prince and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“I didn’t say you had no reason to be distracted,” Tau’re grinned. “I just mentioned that you were. Do you want go to another round? This is the most I’ve won against you in ages.”

“One more round and then I believe I shall try to find some sleep,” Ger’alin agreed.

Squaring himself and bringing his shield around to the ready, he waited for the tauren to make the first move. Tau’re waited him out, counting on the sin’dorei’s customary impatience to start the duel. Ger’alin settled himself, refusing to be drawn out, pouring all his energies into waiting on the other man to make the first move. After several minutes of circling each other and feinting, Tau’re shook his shaggy head and bore in, his twin blades smashing down against Ger’alin’s shield. Letting the force of the blow help him dance out from under it, Ger’alin cut in low, smacking the bull-man square on the knee, making him hop on one hoof while he tried to regain his balance. Shoving in with his shield, Ger’alin kept Tau’re off-balance, forcing him to dance around in circles while the sin’dorei danced in with quick, irritating jabs and slashes that did little damage but did provide a distraction. Your own words have inspired this line of attack, old cow, Ger’alin smiled to himself, losing himself utterly in the joy of skilled combat.

Tau’re nodded to himself, seeing his friend finally begin to relax and enjoy the test of strength and skill. Letting Ger’alin over-commit himself to a sweeping attack on the flank, Tau’re whirled to the side, his friend’s sword whistling through the empty air where the tauren had been. Slapping the flat of his blade hard against the fighter’s backside, Tau’re barked a laugh at the outraged expression on the sin’dorei’s face. “You won’t be sitting comfortably for a day or two now!” the tauren guffawed. “Ouch!” he said, feeling as if a hammer had slammed into the crown of his head.

“Ach, your skull is too thick for even the Light to crack!” Ger’alin giggled, setting himself back for another flanking attack.

“Actually, the Light can crack even a tauren’s skull if you’re forceful enough, Ger’alin. The Light can do many things. It can even make one invulnerable, if the Blood Knight has the force of will to make it so,” a woman’s familiar voice said in a lecturing tone.

A shield of divine power sprang up around Tau’re, preventing the sin’dorei from landing a single blow. Behind the shield, Tau’re threw his head back and laughed, dancing in victory.

“No fair using divine powers to interfere in an honorable duel, my Lady Liadrin,” Ger’alin said politely, bowing to the Matriarch of his order.

“You did it first, my young sword-master,” Liadrin grinned. “Is this truly Shattrath?”

“It is. Be welcome to the City of Light, Lady Liadrin. Do you bring news from Quel’Thalas?”

“I do,” she said tersely. “I must speak with the naaru called A’dal. I was…directed to him by a most unusual visitor. It’s enough to make me believe the stories of the prophet steering Proudmoore and Thrall into the battle of Mount Hyjal,” she sighed.

“Why have you come seeking A’dal?” Ger’alin asked cautiously, peering to see if the divinely-powered shield around Tau’re had been lifted. He dreaded the thought of facing off against the head of his order but if she gave the wrong answer; if she had come on behalf of Kael’thas to enslave yet another naaru, he would be forced to defend his adopted city and his adopted mentor.

360

“I was bidden to seek him out and to learn the ways of the naaru. Now that M’uru has been taken from us, we have little access to our power, Ger’alin. Our order will crumble without the naaru’s aid. I have…come to see many things about our prince. You must have heard by now that he attacked Silvermoon.”

“I had heard that,” Ger’alin said evenly, sheathing his sword and settling his shield on his back before crossing his arms over his chest. “Why would he do that?”

“He came to the gates of the city and the guards at first did not recognize him. He was…worn. His skin was pale and sickly and he had some sort of crystal sticking out of his chest. From what little I did see of him, he looked as if he had survived a thrust through the chest though everything I know tells me such is nearly impossible. He demanded entry into the city in the name of House Sunstrider. The guards fell back, contrite at having blocked his entry. Then…then demons came with him! Not safely enslaved demons such as our warlocks keep around in order to learn how to best battle the Legion. These demons roamed about freely, killing any who displeased them. The guards did not know what to do; their vows bade them defend Silvermoon and its citizens yet they felt compelled to obey their prince. Ma’iv came out of the cathedral about that point and saw what was happening. He asked Kael why our prince allowed demons to have the run of Silvermoon. When Kael announced he had formed a new alliance and that soon we would be numbered among the might of the Legion…the city went mad. Beloved as our leader is, no one of our people will willingly serve the creators of the Scourge! They began fighting the demonic entities with Kael, believing that perhaps our prince was under a spell or being threatened and that, should the demons be destroyed, he would abandon that madness.”

“He won’t,” Ger’alin sighed. “So, he is alive.”

“Indeed, though, Light’s truth and honor, you would think he hadn’t survived whatever blow it was that lodged that crystal in his chest. He looks like a walking corpse! I’m shocked that the scent of decay doesn’t cling to him. At any rate,” she sighed, returning to her tale, “I slept through most of this. By the time I was awake and in battle, Kael and his felblood elves had already fought into our sanctum and seized M’uru! They nearly killed the Magisters set to siphon energy off the creature and, when some of our bewildered adepts asked why Kael was taking the very source of our power and hope away from us, he laughed!

He said that he had given us the creature; he could take it away and that M’uru would aid in restoring the Sunwell and summoning the Master. By the time we could gather anything resembling a strike force, Kael and his felbloods were already on their way to the Isle of Quel’Danas. Lord Lor’themar sent ships to begin besieging them the next morning but, without help, we’re in for a long fight. The Sunwell isle is fertile. Even with the remnants of the Scourge there, there still remains plenty of food for an army to live on, if they care to assign anyone to farming the land a bit.”

“Did you notice anyone in particular with him?” Ger’alin asked, feeling both hopeful and terrified at the same time.

“No. I saw only a handful of felbloods before they made good their escape from the sanctum with M’uru. Now, tell me of this A’dal,” she ordered.

“A’dal is a very wise and very powerful being,” Ger’alin answered. “He can answer many of your questions. However, he serves the Light above all. He is…compassionate and just. I believe that, if you ask his mercy, he will allow you safe passage into and out of Shattrath. Still, my Lady, you were instrumental in imprisoning and torturing one of his brethren. A’dal has hinted that M’uru was playing a part in a scheme we know little about but still, the point remains. This city is divided into two opposing factions…”

“Enemies?”

361

“No,” Ger’alin shook his head, “more like…contestants. The Aldor are the draenei who survived the destruction of Draenor and continued to serve the Light. The Scryers are our own people. Led by Voren’thal…”

“Voren’thal is here?”

“Yes. He leads the Scryers. The Aldor and Scryers both seek to serve the naaru and both uphold the peace of Shattrath but…there is much mistrust between the former enemies.

As we speak, the Aldor seek the blame the Scryers and the Disorder of Azeroth for allowing Kael to escape. He was dead, though!” Ger’alin muttered defensively. “I was certain of that the minute I ran him through.”

“You killed prince Sunstrider?” Liadrin gasped, surprised. Ger’alin shrugged and nodded uncertainly. “Truly, you are a sword-master. Now, my young student, take me to Voren’thal. After I have spoken at length with him and learned more about the goings-on in Outland, I will address myself to A’dal. Also,” she muttered ruefully, “I need some time to think on what to say. How do you apologize for abduction, imprisonment, and torture?”

“Well, start with ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ and see how it goes from there?”

“You’re incorrigible, you young whelp,” Liadrin grinned. “No wonder you drove Dar’ja up the wall. Is she here as well?”

“She is and she will be happy to see you,” Ger’alin nodded. “Follow me, my Lady.”

Ger’alin and Liadrin strode off towards the Scryer’s tier, leaving Tau’re behind the divinely-crafted shield. The tauren sighed and sat down, waiting for the thing to dissipate.

“You’re distracted, Ger’alin,” he muttered softly to the man’s retreating back, “but then, you have a lot on your mind of late.” ~*~*~*~ “A’dal says he will see you tomorrow morning, bright and early, Liadrin,” Voren’thal said as he stumped into the room where the woman sat. She had been offered refreshment and had refused it until Voren’thal and Thalodien had told her the entire story behind the formation of the Scryers, the attack on Tempest Keep, and Kael’s mad plan to ally with the Burning Legion.

“If you ask me, which you are,” Voren’thal had muttered when Liadrin wondered aloud why Kael would ally with the creators of the Scourge, “it’s got a lot to do with Arthas.

The Legion lost control of the Lich King; the Legion wants him and the Scourge brought to heel almost as much as the rest of us. Kael would do anything to strike back at Arthas; his hate is that strong. Then, there’s the undeniable pull of power. Pure arcane power. We feed on it; with it, we thrive. Without, we wither. No doubt that plays its part in his madness as well.”

“Why do the naaru, if they are so powerful, sit here doing nothing?”

“They aren’t exactly doing ‘nothing,’” Voren’thal said defensively. “There is more to this life than fighting, Liadrin. Surely you can remember that! The naaru provide haven, succor, and aid for the downtrodden in this city. Taking care of mortals taxes them heavily.

Besides, as A’dal and the others have pointed out, this fight is largely of our own making.

They are not our creators or our parents. It is not their job to clean up our messes. They have lent us much aid and have done much to help us find new allies – even if the Aldor are a bunch of stubborn fools! – but we cannot and should not demand they fight our battles for us.”

“What of naaru justice?” she asked softly, dreading the day to come.

“Naaru justice is ever tempered with mercy and the hope of redemption. I saw you come in with young Ger’alin,” he said, pausing to give her the chance to reply. Liadrin made no move to finish the thought. “Ger’alin has learned much of the ways of the naaru. He’s the 362

only man under the age of one hundred who has ever stood Thalodien down,” Voren’thal laughed. “Speak with your young student if you wish to learn more of the ways of the naaru.

Ger’alin has taken their lessons very much to heart. Especially since his restoration.”

“Restoration?”

“That is his story to tell,” Voren’thal said simply. “I will leave it to him to explain if he wills.”

“Where could I find him? I’m sure my young student will relish the chance to be the teacher for once.”

“If he’s not out trying to exhaust himself facing off against that giant cow he’s befriended, he’ll either be smashing a wall in while talking with Zerith Lightbinder or he’ll be yammering in his sleep. His room is the third on the left one floor up,” Voren’thal added, seeing the question in her eyes. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you wake him. Though, his Forsaken friend is probably standing sentinel over the door if he’s asleep.”

“What of Dar’ja Lightbinder?”

“She’s here. I think she was going to serve in the temple in Lower City this evening.

Zerith would be with her if he’s not with Ger’alin. She could also explain much to you though, to be completely honest, Ger’alin has been the better student of the two. But then, he’s had cause.”

“When first I accepted Sunrage as a recruit, I had little hope for him,” Liadrin admitted ruefully. “Mostly, I had hoped to use him as a weapons’ trainer for my Knights. He was quite skilled, though young. Only after he had ventured out into the world and joined that Disorder of Azeroth did he ever express any interest in the more studious aspects of being a Blood Knight. And, even then, his obsession at the time was healing, not combat or judgment. He never struck me as the contemplative kind, even after he set himself to mastering healing. Dar’ja was always the more dedicated of the pair when it came to true study of the Light. But now you tell me that one of my worst students has outstripped one of my best?”

“When Ger’alin puts his mind to something, he can do anything he decides to do,” Voren’thal retorted. “He’s so much like his great-grandfather in that regard that it’s eerie.

Vash’na could have made a mountain move if he’d decided to do so. Ger’alin could probably do the same if he had to. Though, with his youthful impatience, he is more likely to try moving the mountain himself.”

“It seems that I have made many mistakes and misjudgments,” Liadrin sighed. “I will speak with Sunrage on the moment. Tell me, old man, do I ever remind you of any of my ancestors?”

“There are times you favor your grandmother so strongly that I almost put her name to you,” Voren’thal grinned. “Now there was a woman that the Light flowed through. And, my dear, it will flow through you again. Speak with Ger’alin and Dar’ja. Speak with any of my followers. The naaru can grant you access to the Light again. It hasn’t abandoned us as we thought, young Liadrin. We’ve merely…lost the ability to see the Light for the shadow blinding us.”

The Matriarch of the Blood Knights shivered at Voren’thal’s statement and stared at him shrewdly. For his part, the leader of the Scryer’s met her measuring gaze blandly, wondering what had prompted her study. “If you put on a monk’s hood and called yourself a prophet, I might ask you to unravel my dreams,” she muttered, wondering if he had been the one directing her to this path.

“If I hear any more about dreams,” Voren’thal growled, thinking of all of the nightmares he’d had and all of the strange dreams he’d heard his followers, especially Zerith and Ger’alin, muttering over, “I believe I shall scream.”

363

~*~*~*~ The sky was crazed. Ger’alin shivered, wondering if he had lost his mind. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the sun looked as if half of it had been torn away. It glowed an angry, sullen reddish-orange as if reluctant to give off less than its normal glorious light. The firmament was likewise shattered; the sky streaked with purples, blacks, and oranges that laid across striated blues and whites. Sniffing the wind, Ger’alin gagged at the heavy odor of fel and arcane magic that coated the very air.

“What is this place? What is going on here?”

The scene shifted, going in reverse. Ger’alin could see the changes that had brought about such a schizophrenic landscape. Rocky soil became gently rolling plains and what had appeared to be haphazard rock formations dotting the crazed and broken desert erected themselves into majestic buildings. “The Isle of Quel’Danas,” he muttered to himself, recognizing the place. “But what happened?”

Walking along the now normal stone-laid pathways that led to the Magister’s Terrace, Ger’alin could see demonic entities roaming about at will, mixing and mingling with both felblood and normal sin’dorei. A line of withered elves stood pumping bellows, gathering ore out of carts, and being beaten by their taskmasters. For a moment, Ger’alin thought they might be Wretched. A closer look showed them to be normal sin’dorei suffering from mistreatment and malnutrition. “You could have thrown your lot in with the Legion!” a demonic slave driver taunted them as he cracked his whip. “Instead, you mewling servants of the Light will serve truly!”

Ger’alin nearly swallowed his tongue in shock when he saw Dar’ja among the slaves.

She looked haggard, worn, and old. “When is this?” he wondered. “What is going on? How did this happen?”

You are seeing what will come to pass if you do not stop the one you love, a voice rang in his mind. You are the only one who can stop her though it may mean her death. Are you prepared to face that, warrior of the Light?

“No!” he argued, “it can’t be true! Light, I can’t kill my own wife. She’s as dear to me as my own life. Dearer! You can’t ask this of me!”

It is not we who ask it of you, the voice said sadly, calmly. She has chosen a narrow path. It can lead to destruction or it can lead to the restoration of your people and their kingdom. Either way could mean her death. Yet only you can stop this from coming to pass.

She has said in her heart “I know that blood will be the price; let it be the blood of my own heart.” She has prepared herself for the sacrifice. Would you stop her if life meant death?

Would you aid her if death meant life?

“What are you yammering about? Speak plainly!” he shouted, looking about for the speaker but knowing the words came not to his ears but to his soul. “I distrust mysteries.”

The scene shifted yet again, becoming one horrifyingly familiar to Ger’alin. A room with a golden pool on the floor spread out in front of him. But, instead of seeing Alayne standing before it, he heard voices from a room off to the side. Walking over, hoping he would not be seen, he peeked in, startled to see Alayne sitting on a cushion, staring at a human woman. The set of his wife’s shoulders spoke of utter concentration and focus and the way she held her jaws tightly shut told the tale of her frustration. The human woman just gazed at her sadly, sighing and occasionally lifting a hand to wipe a tear from her eye. “Can’t you just…pretend that you can’t figure it out? I don’t want to die,” the woman pleaded softly, her voice pitched low so that the eredar standing guard over the pair couldn’t hear. “I can help you. I have the power.”

“Silence, Anveena,” Alayne said firmly. “You will thank me for this one day. You are going to return to your true form and fulfill your true destiny. As my King has ordered me, so 364

shall I obey. His whim is the law of my existence, now,” she muttered, unable to hide a trace of bitterness from her voice. “It will all be over soon.”

“What will be over, Alayne? Sweetheart, please, tell me! Look at me!” Ger’alin screamed, standing in front of her and waving his arms wildly. Alayne stared right through him. “What are you doing? Why? Why don’t you just come back to us? I’ve been healed; I will never hurt you again! Alayne, please, whatever it is…”

His wife’s face lit up as brightly as the noonday sun and, for a moment, her eyes fell on Ger’alin’s face. He could feel his pulse racing with joy as he reached out for her. His stomach crashed to his feet when he realized she was not seeing him at all. She was staring up at the ceiling in rapture. “I’ve done it,” she moaned, shivering in delight. The human, Anveena, moaned in despair. “You there,” Alayne said peremptorily to the demonic guards.

“Go and tell my lord king that it is done. I will need a day’s rest and then I can instruct the others in the pattern to follow. Our Master will be here shortly so you had best get your forces into shape to give him the welcome befitting a god of his might.”

“You can’t be going to summon Kil’jaeden, Alayne Sunrage!” Ger’alin said, stunned beyond belief. Tears of sorrow and disappointment flowed down his cheeks and sobs erupted from his throat. “Why? Why would you turn away from us and to the Legion? Did I push you this far? Please, someone tell me what is going on here,” he pleaded, reaching out to the unseen and unseeable voice from before. “Why would she do this? Was she found out by Kael and tortured, turned to his service against her will?”

She has made her choice, the voice said softly. She will live or die with it. She will summon Kil’jaeden and, if you are not there, he will destroy the world.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Ger’alin sobbed. “I don’t want to be a hero. Light, I just want to be with my wife. I just want this all to be a bad dream. Why? Why her and why me? Why would she turn to this? What set her on this path?”

Do not ask questions you are not prepared to hear the answers to, the voice said cryptically. You know what set her down the path. And, warrior of the Light and child of the sun, you alone know how she may be stopped.

“No, I don’t,” he denied. “The woman I love would never summon Kil’jaeden. If she has turned down this path…she’s become someone I don’t know and that…that hurts worse than the torture from the Vials. This can’t be real,” he told himself. “This is all just a…” ~*~*~*~ “Bad dream?” Liadrin asked when Ger’alin shot bolt upright in his bed. The man was drenched in sweat and he’d been crying and crying out in his sleep for the last several minutes. The Matriarch of the Blood Knights had wondered if she dared try to wake him.

“I may never sleep again,” Ger’alin said breathlessly, clutching his chest as if to calm his heart with his bare hands. “Light but I’m tired of those dreams.”

“I have come to ask you for further instruction in the ways of the naaru,” Liadrin said, her tone brisk and businesslike. “Frankly, we need a source of power, Ger’alin, and I am beginning to see that, as Voren’thal has said, service to the naaru is our people’s only hope.

Still, I want to hear it from you; what manner of creatures are the naaru?”

“My lady, now is not the time for this,” he said, still panting. “I can scarcely think for the fear strangling me.”

“Worried about that young woman you used to follow around? Alayne, I think she was called.”

“Of course I’m worried about her. She’s with Kael’s forces Light knows where.”

“That would be the Isle of Quel’Danas,” Liadrin sighed. “Did she choose to remain loyal to her prince while you chose to follow a different path?”

365

“No,” Ger’alin said sadly. “We both chose to stand against Kael. Only…I fell prey to the power of the Vials of water from the Well of Eternity. My addiction rose up within me as it never had before and I…I…I nearly killed Alayne for jealousy and anger over her inability to help me sate my lust for power. She ran off after that, taking the Vials with her. She may have run to Kael or she may have been discovered by him; I still don’t know what to think or believe. And now…”

“Ger’alin, no offense, but for a man your age and with your charm and looks, you should just get over her if she betrayed you and find another.”

“She’s my wife,” he said simply. “There is no ‘getting over her and finding another.’

I want her back at my side so I can beg her forgiveness for what I did. If there were any justice, I would have been…but the naaru showed mercy on me even when I did not merit it.

And because of that mercy, I may have a chance…,” he said, brightening. “The Isle of Quel’Danas, you said?”

“You cannot simply sail up to the Sunwell Isle, Ger’alin,” Liadrin said with mock exasperation. “Now, I have come to hear you speak. Every second person I talk with says your name with near-reverence. You’ve become well-known and well-respected in a short time. Tell me, what have you learned out here with the naaru that could aid our people and our cause?”

“Nothing I have learned can aid anyone unless they wish to undertake the learning and understanding on their own,” Ger’alin muttered. “Unless they are willing to come to true faith in the Light and begin to step away from the path laid for them, then my ‘lessons’ won’t help at all.”

“I have believed for long years that the Light abandoned us to eternal shadow,” Liadrin sighed. “And yet now, you tell me that you, you Ger’alin, a sword-slinger who barely merited the title of ‘Blood Knight’ until recently, you have faith?”

“The Light has always been there, my Lady. Even before I acknowledged it, it led my steps. I can begin to see that now. The Light in all its infinite and inaffable mercy has been with me since the day I was born. That’s another reason I want to find Alayne,” he added.

“She needs to learn that as I have come to see. Perhaps it would help turn her off the path of fel magic she feels compelled to follow.”

“You believe she could be redeemed?”

“I believe anyone can be redeemed if they are willing to be,” he sighed. “Especially after my own redemption. Before, I had known in my head that a person could walk out of the shadow and into the Light. But after wallowing in the shade myself, after being as low as I could have been and letting myself twist into a mockery of the man my father and mother raised me to be, after that, I understood in my heart that anyone, even Kil’jaeden himself, can be redeemed if only they seek it.”

“And the naaru showed you this?”

“A’dal lit the way on the path I will strive to follow for the rest of my days,” Ger’alin nodded. “If you seek redemption, Liadrin, if you ask sincerely, I believe you will find it and the Light’s blessing as the rest of us have.”

“You have given me much to think on, young Sunrage,” she said softly. “I’ll leave you to your rest. The Light send you pleasant dreams and restful slumber until the sun shines upon your face again,” she added sincerely, using the formal Thalassian blessing parents would bestow upon their children. Ger’alin sighed and nodded in acceptance, laying back down and closing his eyes. As much as he prayed the Light would send no dreams, he would not offend his teacher by amending her first true prayer in years.

Liadrin waited until Ger’alin seemed to be returning to sleep before ducking out of the room. Motioning for one of the Scryer attendants to come to her, she inquired as to where she might find privacy and rest for the night. Minutes later, she was installed in one of the 366

servant’s quarters; the rest of the rooms being occupied by the Disorder of Azeroth’s fighters.

She bade her attendant good night in the same manner she had Ger’alin, ignoring the surprised lifting of his eyebrows. Closing the door behind him, she walked slowly over to the window, her feet dragging. She chewed the tip of her finger as she had when she was a little girl dreading a punishment waiting for her in the next room. With an irritated sigh, she forced both her hands to her sides, strode quickly to the window, and flung it open. The moonlight streamed into the room, bathing it in a silver glow. Kneeling awkwardly, she pulled the chair out from under a nearby desk and propped her elbows on the seat. Burying her face in her hands, she opened herself, reaching out to a source she had long since believed denied to her.

For a moment, she felt the familiar nothing as she sought the Light she had once devoted her life to. Tears of frustration and sadness began to fill her closed eyes and she could feel a sob working its way up her throat. Then, just as she was about to give up and resign herself to the eternal loss, she felt a gentle thrill that became a warming glow. “Ger’alin is right,” she sighed once her prayers had finished and the path had become clearer to her. “Anyone can be redeemed. Even me.” ~*~*~*~ “I can’t believe Lady Liadrin is here,” Dar’ja said excitedly.

“I know,” Ger’alin echoed. “You’ve only said that…how many times has it been now, Zerith?”

“I stopped counting after eighteen.”

“You two are terrible.”

“At least she’s not squealing when she says it like she did the first half-dozen times,” Ger’alin continued, ignoring the angry woman. “Oh, Lady Liadrin is here!” he mimicked in a high pitched falsetto. “I should go and kiss up to her a little more! Hey, ouch!” he grimaced when Dar’ja slapped him in the back of his head.

“You’re especially terrible,” she muttered.

“You’re too easy to get riled up,” Ger’alin sighed. “All I have to do is point out the way you act about Liadrin and your dander is up. Don’t make it so easy, Dar’ja. A man likes to work a little for his entertainment.”

Dar’ja stared at Ger’alin, uncertain of how to take that. For his part, her fellow Blood Knight met her gaze blandly, looking almost bored. After a few minutes of her staring at him in consternation and him returning her gaze with a deadpan look of his own, Zerith burst out laughing, setting Ger’alin off into great gales of humor. “I’m glad someone got that joke.

Explain it to me?”

“It’d take too long,” Ger’alin muttered. “Alayne would get it. She’d laugh fit to bust.”

“I think I’m happier not knowing, then.”

“Oh Light. Nothing like that. Zerith, a little help?”

“Remember that time you made me stay in a tree because you liked seeing Alayne laughing at us?” the priest replied to Ger’alin, his eyes sparking with vengeful amusement.

“Yes.” “I’m returning the favor now.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Liadrin grinned to herself and watched the trio twit each other. The three reminded her of herself and some of her own friends at that age. Only, the weary look in their eyes spoke of an age they would be long years in attaining physically. Her heart went out to them even as she reminded herself that she had been one of the very elders pushing for the children to grow up so quickly. “Had I not abandoned my faith, perhaps…but this happened as it must have,” she told herself. “All my choices have pointed to today. Good morning,” she said 367

loudly enough for the three to hear her. Dar’ja leapt to her feet and Ger’alin and Zerith rolled their eyes good-naturedly. “Sit, sit. Don’t let me interrupt your breakfast. The Light of the eternal sun shine on you all and light your paths through all your days.”

“And on you, my Lady,” Dar’ja said so swiftly Liadrin needed a moment to put together the response. “Would you join us?”

“I have already broken my fast with Voren’thal. I was hoping to ask you to accompany me when I meet with A’dal.”

“Of course we’ll come!” Dar’ja squealed. “Come on you two, let’s go!”

“Dar’ja,” Ger’alin sighed. “Perhaps it has escaped your attention but your husband and I both have half a plate of breakfast to finish off and you’ve barely touched your eggs and bacon.”

“I’m finished!” she announced. “Hurry up and let’s go!”

“Sit down,” Zerith said firmly, “and eat. Or I’ll do to you out here in front of the Light and everyone what Ger’alin did to Alayne back in Tarren Mill when she was making herself sick worrying over me. I can do it, sweetheart,” he grinned toothily.

Dar’ja sat down so quickly she nearly toppled over her chair. Blushing furiously, she began shoveling food into her mouth so quickly she nearly choked. Liadrin smiled and looked away. She wished that she didn’t have this affect on so many of her students but it could not be helped. Perhaps one day Dar’ja would come to see, as it seemed the other two had, that she was flesh and bone like everyone else.

“Don’t scrape the plate, sweetheart,” Zerith teased. “I’m sure there’s more in the kitchen. Light, you’re putting Ger’alin to shame.”

Dar’ja shot her husband a look that would have frozen magma. He grinned and shook his head, increasing the pace of his own eating. Ger’alin laughed and pushed his plate away still half-full. “I suppose we had best get on with it before the Lady Lightbinder swallows her fork.”

Dar’ja leapt up and smiled at Ger’alin gratefully. Liadrin rose slowly and straightened her clothes, wanting to appear just so before the leader of the naaru. She had weighed carefully over what she would say and how she would react. She knew that possibly the very destiny of her people hinged on making the right impression and she prayed that Ger’alin and the others had gone far down that path already. “Light be with me,” she sought silently, reveling in the glow that surrounded her heart, “and give me the wisdom and guidance to do what is right and necessary.” Settled on her path, she nodded and spoke, “Lead the way.”

Ger’alin and Dar’ja walked ahead of her, the woman nearly dancing with impatience while the man was more placid and at ease. As they took the elevator down to the Terrace of Light and made their way into the large structure in the center, Liadrin became aware of angry glances and mutterings from draenei and those allied with them. “Foul murderess,” she heard a dwarf whisper angrily. “Why the naaru tolerate the likes of those elves is beyond me.”

“Garithos had it right,” a human growled. Liadrin flinched. She had been among those imprisoned wrongfully with Kael’thas.

“Perhaps had Garithos heard our prince out,” she said softly, her voice light but hard as the steel blade she wore at her hip, “we would not be walking down this path. Your people abandoned us to face the very evil you created with your Cult of Damnation and your prince’s obsession with eradicating the Scourge at any cost. If you say we cannot hold that against you, how dare you hold it against us when our prince treads down the very path Arthas once walked?”

That seemed to both silence and anger the ones speaking against the sin’dorei.

Gesturing for Dar’ja and Ger’alin to fall in behind her, Liadrin strode confidently and majestically up to the foot of the glowing white naaru. Next to him stood an angry-looking 368

draenei general, dressed out in full battle gear as if he expected to fight off an army any moment now.

“Why do you suffer the presence of this despicable Lady Liadrin?” he demanded angrily to A’dal. “She and her followers distort the Light and make a mockery of all we stand for!”

Ger’alin glared at the draenei commander. He’d sat often enough under the man’s teachings that the Aldor general should know better than to level that accusation at anyone within Ger’alin’s hearing. Waves of calming energy washed over the gathering as A’dal addressed the general.

“Patience, general,” the naaru said, his ringing chimes bringing tears to Liadrin’s eyes. “The Light embraces all who enter Shattrath in good faith.”

Liadrin cleared her throat and mentally went over what she wanted to say. She could sense the naaru’s patient attention upon her and spoke to that, “Thank you for allowing me to speak, A'dal. I know many of your allies despise me and my knights for our treatment of M'uru. When he was given to us by Prince Kael’thas, we believed his power would help lead our people into a new age. I've come to realize our path was a false one. We were betrayed by the man we called our prince. In his lust for power, he sent the felblood to attack us, and spirit M'uru away to the Sunwell.”

“Both our peoples suffered greatly at the hands of Kael’thas and his agents, Lady Liadrin. Your people were not the authors of their own fate, but they will die if they do not change. M'uru accepted his role long ago, knowing full well what would happen to him. Will you accept your own?”

Liadrin blinked, shocked. She glanced over her shoulder at Ger’alin who nodded. “I...

I don't understand. You -- and M'uru -- knew all along that this would occur?” How could you let this happen? To what purpose? Has the Light been trying to reach us all along? she wondered to herself.

A’dal answered her question, chiming gently, “It wasn't I who foretold it, but Velen of the draenei: Silvery moon, washed in blood, Led astray into the night, armed with the sword of broken Light.

Broken, then betrayed by one, standing there bestride the sun.

At darkest hour, redemption comes, in a knightly lady sworn to blood.”

“I see it clearly now,” Liadrin panted, overcome. Kneeling before A’dal, she glanced up at the being, feeling a pride in her submission she had not felt in many years. “I renounce my loyalties to House Sunstrider and its false prince. I pledge the blades of my Blood Knights to the defeat of Kil'jaeden and the restoration of Silvermoon. We will fight beside you, A’dal.”

The draenei general stared at her, stunned. “We cannot have such as these fighting in our forces!” he protested. “She swears her loyalty to us now but can she and the other elves be trusted to keep it? They let Kael’thas escape!”

“He was dead,” Dar’ja growled, having heard the story frequently enough from Zerith and Ger’alin.

“A convenient excuse,” the draenei snorted.

“Tiras’alan,” A’dal began.

“Enough!” Ger’alin said quietly but in a tone that cut through the entire chamber. He stared at the floor, his jaws clenched angrily and his ears ringing. “I have had enough. He was dead. Believe it or not as you will. But I will go myself and fight him again. I will kill him, again. And this time, I will bring his head back as proof. For I have seen what will happen if we continue to engage in these petty rivalries. The sun will give broken light from a shattered sky. Our peoples, all of them, will be enslaved or killed by the Legion. Not even the Scourge 369

will escape Kil’jaeden’s anger. Our homelands, both here on broken Draenor and in lush Azeroth, will be ravaged. My wife will die; her brother will die, and all our dreams and ambitions will come to naught. I will say plainly that should Alayne pass out of this life, the very sun of my existence will be extinguished. But…I will fight Kael’thas again whether any go with me or not. So, General Tiras’alan,” he growled, “stay here in Shattrath with your armies. Stay here and stare suspiciously at the Scryers and at every sin’dorei who crosses your path. For my part, I will be returning to the Isle of Quel’Danas to put an end to this madness and to rescue my wife.” Without waiting for an answer from the others, Ger’alin turned on his heel and stormed out of the building. Dar’ja followed only a second behind him and soon the entire building, save for the naaru, Liadrin, and Tiras’alan, stood empty, the others having chosen to follow the young sin’dorei warrior.

“Do you begin to see?” A’dal asked the draenei leader.

“I begin to see that this will require more in the way of logistics than I had originally thought,” Tiras’alan sighed. “I do not trust you fully, Liadrin, but I will give you a chance to earn that trust. Come with me. I will have a request sent to Voren’thal and his military leaders to meet us in the temple on the Aldor tier. We have much planning to do and little time in which to do it. A’dal, could you persuade young Sunrage and his friends to remain a short time?”

“I will ask him,” A’dal promised happily. “I am sure he will agree to this. You see, as he does, that the time for the Aldor and the Scryers has passed.”

“I…I do,” Tiras’alan admitted, the admission dragged out of him. “But will the others? Even hearing myself say it is incredible. I think I may awaken tomorrow to find this all a strange dream.”

“I leave it to you to convince them,” the naaru said gravely. “Remember his words.

‘For I have seen what will happen if we continue to engage in these petty rivalries. The sun will give broken light from a shattered sky.’ Do they not echo the words of some of the more spiritually attuned amongst the Aldor?”

“They do. That they do.”

“Beneath a shattered sky…” A’dal mused as Tiras’alan walked off to arrange the meetings. “And a broken sun…” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin shoved whetstones and oiling rags into his saddlebags and stopped to study the fruits of his efforts. His armor was neatly stowed away and his shield was ready for him to sling it on his back. He’d packed enough hardtack to last him a month without foraging and he had enough linen cloth rolled to make bandages for all but the most mortal hurts. His rucksack was filled with balms and salves. He was as ready as he ever would be. “Light give me strength,” he prayed. “Just let me find Alayne and find a way to put an end to Kael for all time. Certainly with him dead, the others will come to their senses. But, I thought he was dead,” he whined to the Light. “Don’t let him return a second time.”

“You ready, Gerry?” Callie asked, gently pushing open the door to his room. He turned and nodded.

“I should have known you’d come along,” he smiled.

“Everyone’s coming,” she told him, grinning at his surprised look. “The entire Disorder of Azeroth and most of the Scryers. I don’t know about the Aldor. There’s been some kind of activity going on over there. Voren’thal went up to their tier a little bit ago as well.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ger’alin told himself as well as the Forsaken. “We’re going our own way and we’re going to put an end to this, once and for all.”

370

“That we are,” she agreed happily. “I can’t wait until this is all over.”

“That reminds me,” he muttered, turning back and jogging to the desk. Pulling out a stoppered vial, he tossed it into his rucksack. Callie lifted her eyebrows in askance. “For the bruising Alayne’s going to get from us hugging her or spanking her within an inch of her life.

Not to mention a good cure-all for all the tricks you’ll no doubt have up your sleeve. Try to avoid the oakenshield, though. I didn’t like my skin turning purple from it and I doubt she’d take it half as well as I did.” The Forsaken wagged her head as Ger’alin settled the sack over his shoulder, slung his shield on his back, and tossed his bulging saddlebags over a shoulder.

The pair loped out of the building, making a bee-line for the stables. Just as Ger’alin tossed the saddlebags over the stable door and began preparing Lucky for saddling, a harried messenger jogged in.

“Ger’alin Sunrage?” the messenger called out to the entire stable.

“That’s me,” Ger’alin said, the currying brush on his hand.

“Voren’thal requests that you come to the temple on the Aldor tier immediately.”

“Voren’thal can go sheer sheep.”

“Tiras’alan also would like to speak with you there.”

“He can card the wool. I’m bound for Quel’Danas.”

“But…” “Come on, Ger’alin,” he heard Zerith say. “At the very least, you can tell them yourself. They want to see me too.”

“What would this be about?” the Blood Knight asked the priest as he tossed the currying comb to Callie. She muttered that he would owe her for this but set to work preparing his horse for him.

“I have no idea,” Zerith admitted when they were away from the others.

The pair walked on to the Aldor tier in silence, meeting the level gazes of the draenei guards with the level gazes of their own. Marching into the temple, they were stunned to see Liadrin, Voren’thal, and several of the leaders among the military wing of the Scryers seated around a table with their Aldor peers. The gathering seemed cordial enough with the Aldor courteously asking the two newcomers if they wanted any of the fresh fruits and spiced wine set on the table. Zerith shook his head and Ger’alin, taking his cue from the priest, declined politely as well. “We are on our way back to the real battle,” Zerith said curtly, cutting through the pleasantries. “Make this quick.”

“Very well,” Voren’thal said, sounding amused. “I’m glad you’re all packed and ready to go. We will be marshaling our own forces soon and sending them to Quel’Danas.

We would be interested in knowing if you would care to join your group to ours.”

“Voren’thal, we’ve been allied with the Scryers and we’ve even aided the Aldor but no, we are not going to choose sides,” Ger’alin muttered.

“The Aldor and the Scryers are no more,” Tiras’alan said. The two young sin’dorei blinked and stared at him.

“He speaks the truth,” Ishanah laughed. “It may take time for all of our followers to see it that way, but we have come to see the truth. Young Ger’alin, you spoke rightly when you said we can no longer afford time to waste on our petty disputes. Whatever happened in Tempest Keep, we can no longer bicker over it and point fingers. We must deal with it now.

Perhaps, when Kael lies dead once more and the threat of the Legion is removed for once and for all, we will have time to apportion blame. Until then, we are uniting our forces under one banner. From this day forward, we will be known as the Shattered Sun Offensive. It would be our greatest honor if you and Zerith would consent to help lead our followers in this new endeavor.”

“So quickly?” Zerith asked skeptically. “I’ll consent to this but will your forces agree to be led by us?”

371

“Considering that your group has almost single-handedly defeated Vashj, Illidan, and Kael’thas, yes. Our followers will accept your leadership once your deeds are recalled to them,” Voren’thal nodded. “Even old fogies like Thalodien who still believe, in their heart of hearts, that you shouldn’t be out of Silvermoon without a chaperone.”

“The Aldor will follow where you lead,” Ishanah promised. “After all, it has been your courage, your vision, and your wisdom that have led us down the path we must walk.”

“I accept,” Ger’alin said softly, “but with one condition. My wife…”

“If she is found, she will be taken captive,” Tiras’alan agreed. “She will not be killed on the spot unless there is no other way to subdue her. I have passed those orders on to my troops. No sin’dorei following Kael’thas is to be killed if it can be avoided.”

“In deference to the lesson you have taught so many,” Liadrin said, clearly amused, “all will be given a chance for redemption.”

Ger’alin blushed furiously in embarrassment as he nodded, bowed at the waist, and walked out of the conference room. Zerith stayed behind, watching his friend with new eyes.

“Let us speak of your forces,” Zerith said once Ger’alin had closed the door behind him. “And let us speak of the layout of the island. I have only been there a few times and I do not know what may have changed since…”

Going over maps and wishing Ger’alin had opted to remain, Zerith and the others began making plans for how to establish a beach head operation and expand their holdings.

Through it all, Zerith prayed silently that this would all be over soon. He was tired of being forced to be a hero. ~*~*~*~ “The Shattered Sun Offensive,” Callie muttered, liking the sound of the words. Tau’re nodded absently.

“You’ll want to keep your back foot planted more solidly,” the tauren said to the former Aldor warrior. “Be ready to spin from a magical assault. Kael’s elves mix swords and sorcery quite effectively.”

“Captain Ger’alin has been drilling us on that,” the draenei grinned, setting himself as directed.

“Then Captain Ger’alin would have your head for forgetting what he’s tried to teach you,” Tau’re replied, his tone devoid of any trace of humor. “Remember, your goal is much more difficult than merely killing the enemy. Your goal is to subdue and defeat. Continue your drill. The best and the worst will face off against me in a half-hour.”

“They’ll be ready in a few days at most,” Callie observed.

“They should be ready now,” Tau’re sighed. “Fam’iv?”

“The shamans seem to be picking up on the trick of imbuing other’s weapons with natural power,” the shaman reported as Tau’re passed by his station. “Still, getting them to understand how to interrupt offensive spells is difficult. Most are more accustomed to healing or calling upon the elements.”

“They’ll learn. Even nature must go on the offensive against the unnatural,” the warrior commented. Fam’iv nodded and returned to his command. “I don’t even want to talk to the magi,” Tau’re sighed.

“Nishi and Zerith say that the magi are the most prepared of all. The warlocks have been instructing them in the methods of fel magic. Apparently, there are methods to turn fel magic back on its casters. You don’t want to see it, though. To make a long story short; be glad that Dar’ja and Zerith have been on hand to heal the warlocks. Otherwise, we’d be trying to figure out how to make them grow new skins.”

372

Tau’re grimaced. He’d seen the mages drilling enough to know that the scent of burnt flesh would hang thick where they were. They’d taken to drilling near Tuurem instead of in Shattrath, the results of their practices often too horrific for any but the strongest stomached to take. “How often does Dar’ja lose her lunch?” he wondered aloud.

“Zerith has given up getting her to eat anything other than a light supper. She just brings it back up,” Callie shivered. “I should get back to my own group. Ger’alin took over for me so I could help you make the rounds but I don’t think the Blood Knight has ever grasped the concept of really dirty fighting.”

“He might surprise you,” Tau’re chuckled. “I’m surprised that my voice ever came back down to its normal register after our first brawl.”

“Light, that’s worse,” Callie giggled. “I’d better get back there before he incapacitates my group entirely. It will only be a few more days, you think?” she asked.

“Only a few more, I hope,” he agreed. “I don’t know how he finds the energy.”

“When it comes to Alayne, he could probably pick up a mountain and carry it around the world.”

“May the ancestors watch over her. I wish she were back here,” Tau’re sighed. “I don’t like seeing him so tense.”

“I don’t like it, either. You know, Tau’re, the thing I regret the most is how all of us acted towards her after Illidan died. I mean, yes, she hurt all of the Forsaken with the necromancy she used. She offended everyone. But she was out of her mind with rage. Every last one of us knows how she gets when someone she loves is hurt. But we still let ourselves turn away from her when she needed us the most. When she needed her friends to support her, to talk to her, to help her take care of Ger’alin and help her find a way to cure him, we left her alone. We left her to try to help Ger’alin on her own. No wonder she slipped off as she did without a word. She probably believed none of us would help her if she asked. I still just don’t understand how she could have possibly wound up serving Kael’thas. She hates the Legion worse than she hates the Scourge.”

“I don’t know,” Tau’re sighed. “I don’t know the lady as well as you and Ger’alin.”

“I don’t think anyone knows her as well as Gerry. Maybe Zerith but in a different manner.”

“Why do you call him ‘Gerry?’”

“Because that’s what he was called among humans. ‘Ger’alin’ is a bit of a mouthful.

Alayne would probably have been called Lana or Laine. Elven names come clumsily to human lips. Besides, it drives him batty when I do it. I think no one has called him that since he lived in an orphanage. It’s just my way of letting him know I think of him as a brother. A little brother. I am probably five years older than him.”

Tau’re nodded absently as his strides took them to the object of their discussion.

Ger’alin had doffed his shirt and tied his waist-length hair atop his head. Circling with one of the Forsaken, he explained various holds that could be used against elves, offering himself up as an example. The tauren watched in amazement as the fighter let himself be pinned several times, barking at his students about the proper way to prevent a sin’dorei from regaining his feet. “And I’m a whelp compared to most of the ones you’ll be facing!” he roared as an orc tried to find the proper pressure point to render the man unconscious. “They’ll be struggling and fighting you the whole time. Either you learn this now or…”

“I think I got it,” the orc muttered as he gently let his instructor slip to the ground.

“He’s out cold.”

“Kick him in the knee,” Callie said flatly. “He could be faking.”

“He’s not.”

“Do not disobey my orders,” the rogue said, her irritation plain. “Kick the side of his knee and see if he’s really out cold.”

373

The orc lifted back his leg to do as ordered and, just as he began to throw it forward, Ger’alin’s hand shot out and grabbed his other ankle. Jerking hard, the elf pulled the orc to the ground and was on top of him, deft hands finding the pressure points quickly and rendering the student unconscious. Standing up, he knelt quickly by the fallen man’s legs, reaching out and pinching the nerve that ran just under the knee joint. “And that is how you make absolutely certain your opponent is out of the fight,” he concluded. “Any questions?

No? Pair off. Your squadron leader will want to see that I haven’t been wasting your time.”

“You’ve done well, Gerry,” Callie whispered to him as she watched her troops face off. “They were good before now. Kael’s forces will be no match for the Shattered Sun Offensive.”

“Light, I hate that name,” the sin’dorei grimaced. “It’s a name of ill omen.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked curiously. “Guard up, Rok’ah! Don’t let Suuani fake you out like that. A child of five could see that one coming.”

“Because it is,” Ger’alin insisted. “I hope Tiras’alan lets us get on with it, soon. I’m still not clear on just how we’re supposed to establish a beachfront when he’s done nothing but worry over how we’re going to take the Terrace. That’s putting the cart before the horse.”

“Zerith’s already worked out how to establish the beachfront and he’s put the magi on it as their top priority,” Callie reminded him. “And you’re the one who won’t go watch those practices. Not that I blame you,” she added quickly.

“I’ve heard his plan. It’s madness,” Ger’alin grumped. “Ingenious but madness.

Whoever heard of forcing a beach head by taking control of a bunch of golems?”

“It’s the best option,” Callie said, defending the priest. “Less bloodshed all around. It allows us to conserve our forces for the breakout. What else would you have us do? Fight tooth and nail to establish a holding and keep it?”

“I just can’t stand staying here doing nothing but drilling all damned day!” he exploded. “I should be there already. She and I should be away together somewhere safe, somewhere far from everyone! I don’t sleep anymore, Callie. I can’t sleep without her curled up next to me, her head on my chest, purring like Sar’la’s kitten! And when exhaustion does finally drag me under, even my most pleasant dreams are a nightmare when I wake up without her there!”

“Someone sounds impatient,” Callie said blankly.

“Someone has a good grasp of the obvious,” he retorted. “I’m going to go force myself to watch the magi. Maybe then I’ll feel like we’re going somewhere soon.”

Callie watched him go, wondering if he really would watch the magi. Those drilling sessions were not for the faint of heart or the tender of stomach. “If it comes to getting Alayne, he’d probably force himself to watch an innocent woman being tortured,” she sighed to herself. Turning, she started to head back towards her troops when she found herself falling face-first onto the ground.

“Sorry,” Sar’la said, blushing crimson. Callie scrambled to her feet and helped the girl back up. “You should look down sometimes,” the orphan grinned.

“I have a lot on my mind, Sar’la,” the rogue muttered, trying to be kind to the girl but unable to find the patience Ger’alin had for putting up with the child.

“I need you to help me get to the Aldor temple, please,” Sar’la asked hesitantly. “You will be leaving soon and there’s something I want to give to Mister Ger’alin. But I need the Aldor to help me make it perfect.”

“Everyone is very busy right now,” Callie said, wincing when she saw the child’s face crumble. “I suppose I can take you up there right now. But, don’t get upset if they don’t have time to help you right away. Even Mister Ger’alin has had to make appointments to see the Aldorites the last few days.”

374

“Oh, I won’t bother them or take a lot of time,” Sar’la babbled happily as she bent to cradle a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. “It’s mostly just…no, I want it to be a surprise for him,” she finished resolutely. “Come on,” she grinned as she jogged, carrying her burden awkwardly, “I know, you’re busy. But thanks!” ~*~*~*~ Grand Anchorite Almonen stood near the elevator that led down to the Terrace of Light. From his vantage point, he could see the drilling taking place below. He saw Captain Sunrage storm off, pulling a shirt over his head as he strode across the bridge and out of the city. Wondering idly if such inaction was what was eating away at the sin’dorei, he continued to watch the practicing below, knowing that soon the time would come to address the recruits of the Shattered Sun Offensive and imbue them with their sacred purpose.

“Now, we shouldn’t take much of their time,” he heard a gravelly voice cautioning someone. “They are very busy.”

“I know, Miss Callie,” he heard a child’s elven tones reply. “I promise, this won’t take but a minute. I just need to find a priest and ask him for a little favor.”

“Why do a child and a Forsaken seek a priest?” the Grand Anchorite asked curiously, stepping out of the shadows. The little girl fell to her knees and bowed her head in fear and reverence. The Forsaken looked embarrassed. “She has a favor to ask and she won’t tell me what it is,” the once-living woman said abashedly.

“I promise, Father,” the girl said quickly, “it won’t take but a minute. And I’ve been very good lately. I’ve prayed and been nice and shared my toys and even helped out the littler kids. Matron even says I’ve been a good example. Please do me this little favor and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

“I can hardly refuse such a sincere request,” the draenei said gravely, forcing his lips not to quirk in an amused smile. He studied the girl, trying to recall her name. He’d taught catechism at the orphanage often enough to have some familiarity with the children. “Now, Sar’la, what is it you need a priest for?”

“I want you to ask the Light to bless this,” she said, unwrapping the cloth bundle she’d been carrying in her arms. A beautiful blue mace, the weapon of a warrior dedicated to serving the cause of peace instead of the blade of war, lay within. “It belonged to my papa,” she explained. “It’s the only thing I have of him and my mama. Matron said that the man who brought me to the orphanage gave that to her and told her to tell me it belonged to a fine warrior who fought to protect his daughter and wife from evil,” she said, the adult phrases coming uneasily to her childish lips. “I want my friend Mister Ger’alin to have it and to use it to protect all of us again. I know he likes his sword but I want him to have this as well. So, if you could please ask the Light to make it a good hammer and maybe make it so he’ll like it, I’d be very happy.”

“Ger’alin would love it,” Callie said quickly, amazed at the quality of the weapon the little girl wanted to give away. “But it’s your father’s, Sar’la. If you give it to Ger’alin, it might get messed up if he uses it to fight demons.”

“Oh, that won’t happen,” Sar’la said proudly. “I hope it’s okay,” she squirmed, sneaking a peek at the Anchorite, “but last night I asked the Light to make certain that this hammer would always be in good shape and not get banged up from smashing demons. My dad smashed a lot of demons with this! I just know he did! And Mister Ger’alin can smash them now and when I get bigger, maybe he and Miss Alayne will teach me how to smash them. But I want him to have this special hammer. And I want the Light to make sure that he doesn’t get hurt while he carries it and that he can bring Miss Alayne back here and we can

375

all be friends,” she said quickly, tears coming to her eyes. “Please, Father, would you do this for me? I’ll be good for the rest of my life, I promise!”

Kneeling down, the Grand Anchorite, formerly of the Aldor and currently of the Shattered Sun Offensive, set his hands upon the weapon. He could feel the care that had gone into crafting such a mace. Even without magical or holy aid, it was a weapon worthy of respect. Praying silently to the Light, he besought it to grant the child’s wishes in as far as it wished. By the time he finished, the sun was beginning to set and the little girl had sat down, her back against one of the pillars, dozing. The Forsaken had returned to her duties. Looking down, he saw that the mace glowed faintly with holy power. “Sar’la,” he whispered, rousing the orphan from her slumber. She blinked and stared at him. “It is done. Take this fine weapon to your friend and ask him to wield it in the name of the Light and with the blessings of the naaru.” Wrapping it back up carefully in the blanket, he helped the orphan pick it up and escorted her down to the Scryer’s tier. ~*~*~*~ “Tomorrow’s the day,” Ger’alin said happily to himself as he tried to settle down from the good news. He’d needed good news after watching the magi drill. Jemuya had given up trying to find a way to salvage her necklace once they’d finally managed to separate it from the skin of her neck. The Blood Knight had seen many gruesome sights in his battles but he never thought he’d see anything like what the magic users were doing to each other in hopes of mastering the art of countering fel spells. He tried not to think about what the possible backlash could be if those measures had to be used against – or even just in close proximity to – Alayne. “Light guard her and keep her safe. If only she knew we were coming.

If only we knew why she was there.”

As the time to face her on the Isle of Quel’Danas drew near, Ger’alin felt a nervous tingling he had not experienced since the day he stood outside the door of her bedroom, fully intent on telling her how he felt before Ta’sia could make things worse. Coupled with it was a dread of actually seeing her again, knowing that he could not very well demand Zerith remain away from the very action he was so instrumental in bringing about. “If he dies…I don’t want to think about what it would mean to go the rest of my life without Zerith behind me. I can’t even imagine what would happen if she were taken away from me. The last time was bad enough; I could only dream about what might have been. But now…,” he sighed. “now I know what I’d be losing and I can’t take that. Light, if she has to depart this life,” he prayed silently, “let me follow soon after.”

Gently folding one of his linen undershirts and recalling how Alayne preferred to roll them tightly when packing, he grinned, both longing and dreading their reunion. A tap on the door pulled him from his reverie. Opening it, he saw Almonen, the Aldor’s Grand Anchorite, standing with a hand on Sar’la’s shoulder. The orphan carried a burdensome cloth-wrapped bundle which she clung to tightly. The Blood Knight hoped the child had not dreamed up some argument to try to persuade him to take her along. She had asked several times already and each time had been upset when he explained that a battlefield was no place for a girl her age. “I just wanted to give this to you,” she said quickly before he could ask why she was there. “It belonged to my papa. I want you to have it now. The Anchorite said a prayer over it so it will be really good for you to use now,” she finished in a rush.

Bending down on one knee, he took the proffered bundle. Unwrapping it, his eyes widened in shock when he beheld a masterwork mace, the weapon of one of the higher ranking fighters in the old quel’dorei army. “I can’t accept this,” he breathed. “It’s too valuable. It was your father’s. You should keep it for the day you can wield it in honor of his memory, Sar’la.”

376

“But I want you to have it. I’m sure my papa would, too. You’re going to fight demons. He fought demons and skeletons. I bet he smashed a lot of them with that hammer. I want you to smash them, too, and then come back here so we can be friends. I know you like your sword and it’s a really nice sword,” she said, being forced to stop and gasp for air. “But I got the Anchorite to ask the Light to especially bless this hammer.”

Ger’alin glanced back to his bed and the sword laying on it. It had been a gift from his commander back in Theramore, a memento of his first promotion. The elf had been all of seventeen when he’d won it for outstanding courage in the face of ogre assaults against the guard towers. His shift had been besieged for three days before he’d rallied them to fight the ogres off. He’d carried it everywhere with him, intending only to replace it when the day came that he found his father’s blade. Though he’d searched high and low through the ruins of Windrunner Village and had even tried to track down any survivors from his father’s battalion, Ger’alin had been unable to find the antique quel’dorei sword. He thought of how much it would mean for him to have his father’s blade on his hip and couldn’t imagine ever parting with it once regained. Did the girl have no idea what she was giving away?

“He would want you to have it,” she repeated adamantly. “And I do, too. If you have it, you’ll be safe and you can bring it back and teach me how to use it one day. But you can keep it for always. I’d just want to learn how to use it so I could get one for myself. I don’t think my papa would want me using his. It’s like you said, he probably wouldn’t want me fighting anyway. If I used his hammer, he’d know it was me and he’d be upset. But, if you use it, he’ll know it’s not me and he’ll be happy that someone is smashing demons and skeletons and monsters.”

“I can’t take something that belonged to your father,” he said softly. “One day, this will mean more to you than you can know right now. I can’t just take it because you don’t understand that.”

Sar’la sniffled and tried to hold back a sob of disappointment. Staring at the ground, she dug her toe into the carpet, trying to figure out a way to convince him to take the hammer. “What if I just let you borrow it?”

“Sar’la…”

“No, just borrow it for a while. It’s been prayed over and all so it’s a good hammer.

You use it and let it protect you and then, when you get done, you can bring it back to me and teach me how to use it.”

“I thought you just said your father would be upset if you used it,” he teased, a twinkle in his eye.

“Well…” she said, dragging the word out, “maybe you’ll teach me how to use it but I’ll pray and make sure my papa knows it’s just so I know how to use it for fun. Like those play fights you and Mister Tau’re have. Those look fun. You always laugh and call him a silly old cow.”

“Sar’la, I can’t…”

“Please,” she begged, tears in her eyes. “It would mean so much to me. It would mean that you would come back. Please take it and please come back!” she sobbed. “And bring Miss Alayne too. I don’t want any more people going off to fight and maybe not coming back like my mama and papa.”

“Sar’la,” he began.

“Please!”

“Here,” he said, clapping his sword to his chest. Digging into his saddlebags, he pulled out a square of linen cloth intended for bandages. Kneeling down, he held it to her face. “Blow your nose,” he smiled gently. She snorted into the makeshift handkerchief, her face blotchy and red. “If I take that hammer, I want you to have my sword. It’s my favorite sword,” he said. “I want you to hold on to it for me. When I get back, I’ll teach you how to 377

use it and show you how to use your father’s hammer. And I will be coming back, Sar’la.

Miss Alayne and I will be coming back.”

He prayed that he would be able to keep that promise as the little girl squealed and clapped her hands in delight. Flinging her arms around his neck, she babbled how happy she was that he had accepted her gift and how good she would be until they were back. After swearing she would say a million prayers a day, he managed to disentangle himself from her embrace, wipe her face off, and send her back to the orphanage in the care of the Grand Anchorite. ~*~*~*~ Alayne sighed and struggled to remain awake. For days she had been sequestered with Anveena, leaving only to pass waste. The eredar honor guards struck her as being prisonkeepers and she was the imprisoned.

“Please,” Anveena whispered.

“Just be quiet,” Alayne sighed. For days she had tried everything she knew to attune herself with the Sunwell’s hidden power. Several times she had felt a tickling tingle telling her she was close. Still, every time she redoubled her efforts, she felt farther and farther from her goal.

Just as she was about to give up for the day – or was it night? – she felt a thrill run through her body. Power almost forgotten, power that tormented her dreams, ran through her.

Her green eyes widened in pleasurable shock as she felt the flow growing stronger. “Yes,” she sighed, her lips parted. “Yes, I have done it.”

Anveena began weeping. Wrapped up in the warmth of a sun she had almost forgotten, Alayne ached to comfort the woman. To let her know the truth. But the eredar standing guard over her made that impossible. “I must retire to the Halls of Theory,” she said loftily. “Inform my Lord that once the shield is in place, we may begin. I covet, however, the journals of Dath’Remar which speak of the original portal.”

“They will be brought to you,” one of the sorcerers said, his demonic voice clashing against the almost-holy power Alayne felt.

“No need,” she said quickly, rising to her feet. “I want to see the sun of the old world just once more. Soon the sun of the Master will shine forth. It will be…nice to have a memory of this world’s imperfections with which to compare and contrast the wonders Kil’jaeden will bring to this plane. Keep the woman safe,” she instructed. One of the sorcerers departed with her, his steps taking him away from her to find Kael’thas. Alayne herself strode out of the structure housing the remains of the Sunwell. Leaning against a pillar, she basked in the warmth of the sun. Tears came to her eyes as she realized this would be the last time she would see its light or feel its warmth on her face.

“Alayne?” a familiar voice asked in disbelief. “They said you were here but…”

“Mir’el?”

“Ssh!” he said, gesturing quickly. “Come, sit, speak with your old teacher,” he added, his unease and distaste around freely roaming demons clear on his face. “Let us go to the beach. The air is sweeter there.”

“Mir’el, what are you doing here?” she demanded flatly, refusing to be budged.

“I…I heard what our prince did. I’ve heard what he has planned. You must come away with me, Alayne,” he whispered. “I had no idea what was going on when I gave my consent for you to marry into House Sunstrider. Your mother and father will come back from beyond and kill me if I don’t get you out of here.”

“I am staying.”

378

“Child, no,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and trying to pull her away with him.

“Lor’themar has a force ready to sweep this isle. I do not want you to get caught up in it.

Whatever loyalties you have to our prince, Alayne, set them aside. He’s gone mad. Whether it was his thirst for power, his longing for the Sunwell, or his hatred of Arthas, he’s gone mad. You would never serve the Legion. I know this. I taught you the fel arts myself. Now, come with me while there is still time.”

“Is this man bothering you?” Vangri asked, striding over to Alayne and Mir’el. “Ah. Baron Darkweaver. I shall be proud to join your lineage to my own.”

“The honor is all mine,” Mir’el gasped, aghast that the contorted features of the oncehandsome blood elf. “I beg your indulgence to have dinner with my ward one last time before she leaves my care for yours. Come along, Alayne.”

“Arrest him,” she said coldly, her eyes narrowing. “He’s come from Silvermoon to disrupt the summoning of the Master. Put him in with the other fools who will face their due when the mighty Kil’jaeden claims this world for his own!”

“Alayne!” Mir’el cried as Vangri grabbed his arms, forcing them behind his back. The warlock was no match for the demonically gifted fighter. Alayne watched, forcing herself to adopt a look of satisfaction, as Vangri dragged Mir’el away to the cells beneath the Terrace.

“Did you do this to Jez’ral as well, Alayne? How could you? Your mother would…” she heard Mir’el’s anguished pleas echo through the cavernous building. Closing her eyes again, she leaned once more against the pillar, letting the cool stone soothe her burning face as she mastered her weeping.

“Baron Darkweaver will not stand in our way,” Vangri said, sounding satisfied when he returned. “What did he say to you? You went white as snow for a moment.”

“Prepare for an attack. Theron obviously does not know who rules the sin’dorei,” she said icily. “I will be in the Halls of Theory and then in the heart of the Sunwell. We must make haste or all will be lost.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith breathed deeply, inhaling the tangy salt air of the sea. The breeze that blew them northward from Quel’Thalas stirred his hair and cooled him, helping him remain calm before the storm to come. “So?” he asked Ger’alin, trying to keep the man from pacing a hole in the deck.

“So what?”

“What do you think about Lord Lor’themar’s statement? That all who disavow House Sunstrider have nothing to fear.”

“It means we could go home again.”

“What about that house in Nagrand? It should be just about finished by now.”

“I…we’ll worry about that when the time comes, I suppose,” he sighed. “It is fairly remote for being so close to Shattrath. And, Garrosh did say that if she stayed away from Garadar, he’d keep his forces away from there. Perhaps…but I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“She might be safer in Silvermoon.”

“She might be safer on the White Lady,” he retorted. “The closer I get to her, the more afraid I grow. What’s happened to her? Why did she do this? My dreams say…”

“If I hear another word about someone’s dreams of ill-omen,” Zerith groaned.

“Well what else am I supposed to think? They’re so vivid. So real. They chase me into my waking hours.”

“They’re dreams. The more I think about it, the more ridiculous it all seems to me. I would never hurt Alayne. She’d never hurt me. Remember when she came back to us? She couldn’t hurt us then. She protected us with her own body. She and I are bonded by that,” he 379

said, smiling sadly and rubbing a hand over the center of his chest. “Both of us shot through the chest. Both of us alive in spite of it.”

Ger’alin nodded absently, not really hearing anything the priest had said. “How long do you think it will take?” he asked.

“A few hours should be telling,” Zerith replied. “The magi are in the boat just ahead of us. The illusion should hold just long enough for them to disembark on the beachfront and mingle to begin sabotaging the golems. By sundown, we should be ready for the first wave to press in.”

“Let us pray that it holds as long as it can,” Ger’alin sighed. “We should have put more fighters in that group.”

“More fighters would mean less spell-disrupters to sabotage the golems.”

“You’re right, as always.”

“We’ll get to her soon.”

“Today can’t be soon enough.”

“Hold yourself back, Ger’alin. We can’t just rush in there the minute we set foot on the sand. You were in enough of the tactical meetings to know that.”

“It’s begun,” the Blood Knight said, a thrill entering his voice. The boat ahead of them docked at the harbor and lowered its gangplank. Ger’alin winced as dozens of Wretched seemed to spill out of it, bowing and cringing for their ‘masters.’ They hastened about the orders they were given by the Sunfury, careful to maintain the illusion by stopping to siphon energies from the fel crystals floating around the structures. This often earned them a lash across their backs and shouts to return to their business. Further out at sea, Ger’alin and the others waited until they could see only a handful of their fellows still along the docks, sweeping and unloading supplies from their ship. The rest had streamed through the island and would be watching for opportunities to sabotage the arcane golems patrolling along the beach and the roads. Ger’alin schooled himself to patience, waiting, praying that the time would come soon and would not be too late. Every time he glanced at the priest, he shivered, hoping the foul dreams would not come true. ~*~*~*~ “Lor’themar plans to attack us?” Kael’thas asked, grinning smugly. “He always did get above himself. I had thought Rommath would keep him in line. Perhaps I misjudged both of them. A pity,” he sighed. “An infinite pity.”

“We must hurry,” Alayne said urgently. “I have read over the history of the first attempt to summon Sargeras into our world. I believe I see what went wrong and how to prevent it. However, we must not…” “…be disrupted,” Kael’thas nodded. “You will not be. I will guard your summoning with my very life. Go now. I have sent runners to gather in the others who are to help you. Do this quickly, Lady Dawnrunner. The Master must be in our world no later than moonrise.”

Alayne knew that sunset was but a few hours off. The daystar had already sunk half its height from its noonday peak. She nodded and began to jog off. She peeled off to her quarters briefly, laying her hands on her journal and muttering words of magic. Nodding in satisfaction; he would understand and would know, at least – she owed him that much – she reached into a hidden pocket in her robes. There. The letter she had pinned just scant days ago. It would pay off another debt. One she had not realized she would owe so soon. Jogging back down the corridor, she glanced to make certain no one was watching before letting herself in to the prison cells. Striding past the holding pens containing Wretched who had proven less than reliable, she sought the solitary cells. She questioned a guard, learning the

380

location of her target and had him follow her, unlocking the door. Stepping in, she motioned that she wanted privacy. “He is my guardian. I owe him the chance to explain himself.”

A miserable Mir’el sat, his hands bound behind his back and his legs cuffed to the bed. He glanced over at her sadly, his eyes filled with tears of defeat and sorrow. “That your mother’s child would do this,” he sobbed. “What has become of you?”

“Silence!” she said harshly, forcing herself not to melt and comfort him. He would know soon enough. She’d heard enough from Jez’ral to know that Mir’el would need whatever solace he could find in the long days to come. “Why have you betrayed our king?” she demanded as she strode over to stand before him. Glancing back to the door, assuring herself that the guard was not peeking in through the barred square, she pulled the note she had finally argued herself into writing out and shoved it between the mattress and bed platform. “You are a traitor to our rightful ruler. You will soon learn the folly of opposing the Legion. This world will burn, Mir’el. But the fire will bring forth the Light,” she grinned, wishing she could give him more than an oblique hint of what to expect. He sighed and lowered his face, sobbing brokenly. Turning around, she strode out of the cell, hoping he would read the note she’d left instead of ripping it to pieces once he was freed.

“My dear wife-to-be,” Vangri grinned when she left the detention area. She blinked and tried to hold herself together. She was so close to her goal. Nothing could disturb her now! Banishing the handsome face that flooded her inward eye, trying not to let her fingers remember the feel of his brown silken hair when she’d combed it, and shoving away the memories of the nights she’d spent as his wife, never dreaming she’d ever be so happy, she tried to steel herself by recounting how he would hate her for the rest of his days. “Alayne, what’s the matter? You look ill.”

“Soon I will be beyond these weaknesses,” she laughed, her laughter sounding hollow to her own ears. “I look forward to what is to come so strongly, my lord Vangri, that being recalled to reality startles me of late.”

“I look forward to it, too,” he said, grinning a feral grin. “I have come to escort you back to the chamber. Do me the honor of permitting it, my dear.”

Alayne made herself smile up at him and looped her arm through his. Letting him propel her onward, she sucked in a breath of shocked surprise when she saw that the corridor leading up to the Sunwell was lined by the guards who had manned Manaforge Duro under her command. Several were missing, of course. Largely those Kael considered unproven or untrustworthy. She’d heard rumors that they had been killed by the same group who had killed Kael’thas. She prayed that some remained alive. They had not been bad people; merely…confused and misguided. “Let the naaru deal with them with mercy,” she prayed silently as she smiled, tight-lipped, at the honor guard standing alongside the red runner leading to the final door she would ever pass through. Tears of joy and sorrow filled her eyes as she squared her shoulders, gave Vangri her leave to remain until the watch was done, and strode regally to her destiny.

The long hallway seemed far too short as she pushed open the door to the Sunwell’s chamber. Inside, the men and women chosen to aid her in this task glanced up expectantly.

Smiles of eager anticipation shone on their faces. Hidden in the shadows of the room were the eredar guards holding the Vials as she had instructed. Alayne ignored them and focused her attention on the human woman laying in a quivering heap of tears on the golden floor of the Sunwell itself. “Let us begin,” she said. “The hour is at hand.” ~*~*~*~ Lost in the rush of magical energy flowing through, over, and around her, Alayne tried to keep her mind clear and focused on what she was to do. This already difficult task 381

was made more complex by the fact that she had to deceive a master of deception while doing it. Sweat trickled down her face and she could hear her heart thundering in her ears.

Her whole body felt slick and oily. The very residue of arcane and fel energies seemed to stick to her sweat-slicked skin. In the corner, the eredar sorcerers watched avidly as the elves channeled the pure essence of the Sunwell from Anveena who now hovered over the remnants of her former home, shielded from all stray energies. The golden pool pulsated with power. Alayne shivered and nodded to herself. Soon it would be time to begin laying the groundwork for the portal.

The moment came sooner than she expected. As the Sunwell began to spark back to life, shockwaves of pure, soul-refreshing energies emanated from the room. Alayne winced even as she savored the sensation long thought lost to them. Those waves would interfere with almost every spell being cast outside of the room. The arcane golems might even break down again. Putting the concerns out of her mind, she stared down into the pool and, drawing upon the abilities of the Magisters gathered with her, began weaving together the delicate, intricate threads that would create the portal for Kil’jaeden to enter Azeroth. ~*~*~*~ “So far so good,” Ger’alin said, bouncing on his toes as he watched the gathering on the beach through the looking glass he’d been given. “They should signal the golems to begin attacking shortly. That’s our cue to move in.”

“We know that, Gerry,” Callie said, amused. “We were only in the same meetings.”

Ger’alin snorted and said nothing. He continued to watch the beachfront operations.

Thus far, the disguised Wretched had been able to manipulate close to two dozen golems.

That would have to be enough. The Sunfury would be so busy fighting their own constructs off that the Disorder of Azeroth should be able to slip in and render most of them incapacitated before anyone knew what was going on.

Seconds before he felt it, he saw something wash over the island. The golems began sparking, whirling, running, and pummeling the nearest target. “Did they already…Light, what was that?” he sighed heavily. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear it felt like…”

“Move in!” Zerith shouted. “The magic’s been disrupted. We’re under attack!”

Sure enough, whatever it was that had washed over the island, disrupting the golems, had also interfered with the illusion that let the Shattered Sun forces pass for Wretched. The Sunfury elves were quick to try to apprehend and round up their infiltrators. Little did they know that seven boats more awaited their chance to land and disgorge their passengers upon the sands. Still, the golems running amuck created enough chaos for the Shattered Sun evade their would-be captors for the moment.

As soon as the ship he was on ran aground, nearly capsizing, Ger’alin leapt from the bow, landing lightly on his feet in the shallow water. Wading as quickly as his armor would allow him, he met his attackers with his shield and his mace, laying about, careful to disarm and disable where possible and regretting each death he was forced to inflict. “Light be with their mad, misguided souls,” he prayed. Long moments passed as he scanned the area, seeking an enemy who had not been subdued either by the Shattered Sun or the insane golems. His eyes widened in shock when he realized that the sun was sinking into the ocean.

How long had they been fighting?

“I believe we’ve established a front,” Thalodien said blankly, breathing heavily. “It looks like most of the Sunfury not subdued have fled the field. Let’s take this opportunity to catch our breaths, count our losses, and prepare to press on. Who knows what stands between us and that?” he asked, pointing towards the grand Magister’s Terrace in the distance. The late evening sun glinted off the gilded spires and blood-red stonework, casting an eerily evil 382

light on the building. Ger’alin shuddered as he realized that the white marble looked as bloodstained as the beach before him.

“Let’s rest quickly,” the Blood Knight muttered in response to Thalodien’s suggestion. “We shouldn’t waste a moment.” Suiting words to action, he began hurrying about, laying hands on the wounded who needed it and keeping a constant watch among the captured elves for his wife. “Light, be with us all through the coming night,” was his constant prayer. “Alayne…” ~*~*~*~ Mir’el rubbed his wrists against the shackles binding them behind his back and wondered what was in that paper Alayne had shoved beneath the mattress. Tears welled in his eyes whenever he thought of the way she’d looked at him. Miris’s face twisted into something he couldn’t bear to think about. He’d loved Miris like a sister – and Alayne like the daughter he’d never had and never would have – but he couldn’t love a person who served the very Legion he’d spent his life learning to undo. Still, what had she shoved beneath the mattress? “Probably something for the guards,” he muttered sullenly as he worked at the cuffs. “Damn mage-bonded restraints!”

A wave of energy passed through him, trilling his soul like a piping flute. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his ears quirked forward as his eyes widened in shock.

“Light, what is going on?” He tugged at the cuffs again, feeling them begin to give way. That surprised him; cuffs against magi were generally all but impossible to remove without the key. Jerking his wrists apart as hard and as fast as the restraints would allow him, he managed to crack one enough to force his wrist out of it. Pulling his arms in front of him, he whistled through his teeth. “Hopefully someone can heal that,” he sighed, watching as his freed wrist swelled like a balloon and turned an ugly purple. Settling it carefully against his chest, he reached down with the other hand to tug the papers the girl had shoved there free. He stared at them for a long moment, wondering if he really wanted to read them before the noise in the hallway caught his attention.

“The beach has been taken,” he heard one of his captors say breathlessly. “We must redouble our defenses of the Terrace. Herd the prisoners into the largest holding cell you can find; we cannot spare men to guard them.”

Mir’el stuffed the folded papers into the inner pocket of his robe and sat with his arms in his lap as he gently, and with much wincing, worked the broken cuff back around his swollen wrist. He let his sleeve fall over it, hoping that the guards would be too rushed to pay much mind as long as he acted as if he were still cuffed. His ruse seemed to work as he let the guard hustle him out of his solitary cell and into a much larger one. Mir’el’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the many Wretched and maddened elves locked in there. Only a few, it seemed, were true prisoners. “What in the world?” he wondered aloud.

“The results of that damnable ‘anointing,’” one of the shivering Wretched said. “Our lord has gone mad! No power is worth this!” he shrieked. Mir’el shuddered, biting back screams when his broken wrist brushed against his hip. “What are you in for? Decide that maybe Kil’jaeden wasn’t our savior after all?”

“I’ve opposed the Legion since I was old enough to know right from wrong,” Mir’el said softly. “I followed the fel path only to learn to fight the demon fire with fire. I have instructed others with that goal in mind. My greatest failure is that…,” he sighed, pressing the note Alayne had left him, “one of my students has chosen to throw her lot in with the Legion.

She’s why I’m here.”

“You’re Mir’el Darkweaver,” the Wretched said, surprised. “You don’t recognize me, do you, my old teacher? Sam’vah Sunsblade.”

383

“Sam’vah? You barely lasted two days before you decided you were better off under the tutelage of Lady Liadrin,” Mir’el said breathlessly. “What led you down…”

“I was one of the first pilgrims into Outland,” the man said bitterly. “It was just before Voren’thal the Wise saw the truth that I only now understand. I swore fealty everlasting to Sunstrider on the bridge of Tempest Keep. I was assigned a position to guard one of his manaforges. I kept my oath. I gave my best service. And my king has repaid me richly, has he not? Damn him and damn that Lady Dawnrunner for not keeping me from the anointing! If she knew this would be the result, why didn’t she work harder to keep us from submitting to it once we had the Terrace? Ach,” he said, turning a pale green from the effort the anger cost him, “I wouldn’t have listened. Maybe if Ben’lir had… but he was left behind. Kael’thas realized not all of his guards would submit to the Legion. Better to keep those with reservations behind in Outland; to not let them see that they were right! How I wish I had been one of them!”

“Ben’lir stayed with Kael?” Mir’el said, stunned. “I heard he had sworn to destroy the Scourge…”

“Ben’lir was one of the first to turn against Voren’thal. For the longest time, he believed that only by allying with the Legion could we destroy the Scourge. But, then, the Lady Dawnrunner came and he began to change his mind. Seeing that girl work herself so hard and seeing Kael’thas let her drive herself so murderously… but damn her! She probably stands in the Sunwell even as we speak, pulling doom down on us all!”

“What is the Lady Dawnrunner to Kael’thas?”

“One of his most valuable assets. She was your student, was she not?” Mir’el nodded sadly. “She learned her lessons well. She’s almost single-handedly responsible for us being here so soon. We hadn’t expected to make our move for another half-year. Kael was going to send feelers out to the capital, to make certain of his reception. But then this Dawnrunner showed up and the next thing we know, we’re stepping through a portal, being anointed, and preparing to summon the Deceiver.”

Sam’vah was seized by heaves before Mir’el could reply. The warlock knelt down and held the man by the shoulders, keeping him steady while he vomited. When he finished, Mir’el laid him gently on the floor and wiped the sweat from his face with his good hand and sleeve. “How could we have been so blind?”

Standing up and walking over to tend to another suffering sin’dorei, Mir’el pondered that question himself. Meanwhile, the letter from Alayne crinkled in his pocket. ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral sat watching Sar’la play. The late evening sun filtered through the clouds and trees above Shattrath, casting gentle shadows and cooling shades across the city. The two tiers and Lower City were ghost towns with all of the soldiers off in Quel’Thalas. The warlock sighed and tried not to feel utterly useless. After all, he still could not cast more than the most basic spells. The more advanced techniques of nether weaving were slow in returning to his shattered memory.

“What’s the matter, Mister Jez’ral?” Sar’la asked, pausing in her play.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly, pasting a smile on his tired face. “I just was noticing how quiet it is.”

“I know,” she said, grinning broadly. “Usually it’s so loud out here with all of the shop people yelling that their stuff is the best. And then there’s those orcs over there,” she said, pointing to where the orc couple renowned for their skill in leather-craft sat. “They like to yell at that little old lady who parks her cart near them every day. She’s not been coming out with her apples lately since no one’s around to buy them. I miss that.”

384

“Would you like an apple? I could take you out to the orchard to get one.”

“It wouldn’t be the same,” she said gaily. “It’s more fun when it comes from that old lady who makes the orcs so mad. Hey, do you want to try to teach me to use this?” she asked, pointing to the sword she had been dragging around everywhere.

“I wouldn’t know how,” he admitted. “Besides, isn’t Mister Ger’alin going to teach you that when he comes back?”

“Yeah, but I was thinking that it would be cool to learn how to use it a little and surprise him. Do you think he’s okay?”

“He’s fine,” Jez’ral said, trying to be reassuring. The girl seemed to accept that and returned to her play. Jez’ral listened with half a mind while she prattled on about how they were actually now in one of the naarus’ magic flying ships and were discovering new worlds.

His mind was focused on a man he could scarcely recall beyond knowing that most of his life had been bound up with him. The warlock prayed that he was safe; that he would stay out of battle. Enough of his memories had returned to let him recall the last time Mir’el tried to fight a powerful demon lord. “Let him stay far away from the Legion. He almost died last time; and, in a way, it was worse that he hadn’t for years after. Especially when he learned that Tal’ar had been lost and no one knew where Miris and Alayne were.”

“Who are you praying for?” the girl asked, her eyes round and luminous.

“A friend of mine back home,” he admitted.

“What’s his name? I’ll pray for him too. I say my prayers every night before bed and ask the Light to watch after Mister Ger’alin and Miss Alayne so that they’ll come back here and we can all go on adventures together when I get good with this sword.”

“His name is Mir’el.”

“And he’s your best friend?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” she said, patting his hand. “Now, you and I are going to go off and…”

Jez’ral listened to her prattle on, smiling to himself and praying that everyone would be ‘okay.’ ~*~*~*~ “What the devil are you doing just standing there?” Thalodien shouted down to the Shattered Sun forces led by Ger’alin. “They should have penetrated the Sunwell Terrace by now,” he muttered to Zerith. The priest rolled his eyes at the older man. While Thalodien had become more tolerable in the last few days, he was still quick to get on the younger sin’dorei’s nerves.

Ger’alin shouted something back up that, from the look on his face, made Zerith think it was probably for the best that the distance and noise had distorted it to incomprehensibility.

The Blood Knight made a coarse gesture at Thalodien before turning his back deliberately on the man and gesturing to the fighters around him to continue their efforts. “What is he doing?” Thalodien wondered again.

Walking down to where the fighters and magi were standing near the entrance to the ramp leading into the Sunwell Terrace, Zerith saw that they were battering against an invisible wall. “It’s shielded,” Ger’alin muttered sourly. “Why we didn’t foresee this and plan for it is beyond me. I don’t know how we’re going to get past it.”

Zerith rapped his knuckles lightly against the shield. A slight hum of energy coursed through him, widening his eyes in shock. Ger’alin snorted mirthlessly, “Much more force and you’d have been on your rear,” the paladin observed. “It knocked me down the first time when I ran smack into it.”

385

“What’s going on here?” Thalodien asked, stomping up to the pair. “Is there some kind of cease-fire agreement?”

“No,” Ger’alin said with elaborate patience, “there’s a shield here. Think you can break through it, Thalodien?”

“Why didn’t we for…oh, never mind,” the man sighed. “I assume you have the magi working to unravel it.”

“There are two focal points sustaining it,” Nishi announced, presenting the results of the scrying Ger’alin had set him to. “One is inside there,” he continued, pointing further into the Magister’s Terrace, into the rooms Ger’alin and the others had not pressed beyond.

“Whether it’s a simple focal point or someone channeling it is up for debate. But, if we want to get it down, we’ve got to retrace our steps a bit and leave off for now.”

“We can’t back down,” Ger’alin protested. “If we move away from here, they may very well drop it and overrun us all!”

“Frankly,” the mage observed, “I think they will hold it up as long as they can. Think about it a moment; whatever they’re doing in there, they do not want any disruptions. I’ve been sensing a growing wave of energy throughout the isle. That shield is not a diversionary tactic; whoever is behind it doesn’t want anyone going in or out. Not until they’re ready.”

“I want a squadron to remain here,” Ger’alin ordered, his voice carrying over the babble of many whispered conversations. “Callie, Tau’re, Nishi, Jemuya, Fam’iv, you’re with me. Zerith, you and Dar’ja remain here. If any demonic entities come out, you take care of them.”

“And if it’s demons holding the focal point?” Zerith asked.

“I can take care of them. I married a warlock, didn’t I?” he grinned recklessly. “Come on, we’ve got a shield to break down.” ~*~*~*~ “What are they doing?” Ger’alin whispered as he pointed into the room. Two groups of Wretched stood channeling into fel crystals while a felblood elf watched over them.

“Probably holding up that shield,” Callie muttered dryly.

“What’s the plan?” Nishi asked when the rogue and paladin returned to the group.

“There are two groups of six Wretched in there,” Ger’alin outlined quickly, “and some felblood elf. They’re all channeling into fel crystals – the Wretched, that is. I think if we just run in and hit hard and fast, we should be able to kill or disable most of them before they can react.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Fam’iv grinned.

Ger’alin nodded and, seeing that the others were as prepared as they could be for such a matter, began trotting back the way he had come. Careful to keep his steps as light as he could, he satisfied himself that the Wretched had not noticed their observers. Raising his arm and then dropping it quickly, he signaled the attack.

“Protect the shield at all costs!” the felblood elf screamed. “Quickly, aid your brothers and you will be rewarded!”

One pack of Wretched ceased their channeling and turned on the group of infiltrators.

The other group continued to focus their attentions on the crystal as if their very lives depending on it. The six sickly elves were little match for the healthier sin’dorei, Forsaken, and troll. Within moments, they were down, most dead, a couple merely knocked out, and the Shattered Sun soldiers continued on, working to disrupt the magic of the Wretched who had ignored them. Meanwhile, the felblood elf was racing towards the group, his blade out.

Ger’alin brought his shield around to catch the blow while he whirled the hammer Sar’la had

386

given him, catching the felblood elf in the knee. He felt and heard the bone crunch beneath his blow and let his guard down, expecting to see his enemy on the ground and in agony.

“I am a god!” the elf shouted, pulling energy into his body from the glowing green crystals around the room. The elf swelled where he stood, his complexion growing a nearly purple-red and the veins of his forehead standing out, engorged with blood, sickly green vines in a forest of putrid red growth. Ger’alin and the others gaped, the paladin gagging at the polluting and permeating demonic essence that flowed into the man. Dashing in, his shield held in front of him and his hammer behind him, he knocked the felblood off his feet, his shield catching the man in the side and his hammer flying around, the momentum carrying it, smashing into his stomach. The felblood crumpled in half, folding over the blow, spewing the contents of his stomach from the force. Callie dashed in a heartbeat behind her friend, leaping lightly over him to land at the felblood’s head. Kneeling down, she smashed her fist into his face, wincing at both the pain and the gore that covered it. The felblood gurgled, the sounds disgusting to hear, as he drowned in his own life-essence. Ger’alin reached over quickly, with a hand that shook, and grabbed one of Callie’s daggers from her belt. Slitting his enemy’s throat, he let his shoulders sag with a mix of disappointment and exhaustion.

In the meantime, the other three had focused their attention on the demon crystals.

Ger’alin shivered whenever one was blasted apart by the arcane talents of the two magi or the assistance of nature the shaman could call upon. “I think that should help a trifle with the shield,” Jemuya said when the last fel crystal lay in pieces on the floor. “We’ve done all we can, Ger’alin. Let’s go back and see if we can crack it now.”

The paladin started to nod but a sound from further up the corridor caught his attention. Motioning the others to silence, he tiptoed to the edge of the room and looked down the long, dark corridor leading into the abandoned Master’s Tier. Or rather, not abandoned if the presence of two sin’dorei guards running at him, blades out and searching for blood was any guide.

“Light, let that shield come down,” Ger’alin prayed as he set himself to meet the attack. “Alayne…” ~*~*~*~ “Alayne,” Mir’el sighed sadly as he glanced back up the corridor. The pair of guards left to watch over the prisoners had abandoned their posts, muttering something about sensing an attack incoming. “Let her be safe. Light, let this all be a bad dream. Don’t let my best student, the child of the woman I loved like a sister, don’t let that little girl actually be a servant of those who would destroy everything. I can’t believe it of her. I just can’t.”

“What are you muttering about?” Sam’vah asked wearily. “Some incantation to get us all out of here?”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you unless it’s an incantation to zip us straight back to Quel’Thalas where we belong,” Jez’ral had muttered to him that day so long ago. The circumstances and Sam’vah’s words had brought that old memory to light for a brief moment. Mir’el sighed and wished all he was looking forward to was being slow-roasted by a tribe of cannibalistic trolls. “No, Sam’vah, there is no incantation to get us out of here. We’re in the hands of the Legion. Only a miracle of the Light could help us now.”

The prisoners overheard his final words and a sigh swept across the cell. Many indeed closed their eyes, folded their hands, and began making their peace with the force of all creation. Elven ears twitched and quirked as the sound of steel ringing against steel, of curses, of pain-filled screams cut off by the final silence of death echoed down the haunted hallways.

Mir’el heard footsteps and voices saying “this way, they came from in here. There might be more of them.” Closing his eyes, he regretted that there would probably be nothing left of 387

him for his oldest friend, his closest companion, to bury. He regretted that he’d sent Jez’ral off for a short journey and now would never see him again. With his eyes closed, he prayed that the journey through the darkness of death would be swift and painless.

“Why does everyone have their eyes closed?” he heard a familiar voice laugh. “Is it nap time?”

“Callie!” he said cheerfully, opening his eyes to see Alayne’s friends standing in front of the cell. A cloud of suspicion washed over his features, darkening the light in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to stop the Legion from being summoned,” Ger’alin answered flatly.

“How did you wind up in this situation?”

“I came to try to rescue Alayne. When I heard that the ‘Lady Dawnrunner’ was with the forces here, I felt that I owed it to Miris and Tal’ar to get their daughter out of this mess.

It’s partly my fault for consenting to her marriage into House Sunstrider. If I had known then…”

“I want to discuss that with you one day. At some length and considerable volume,” Ger’alin growled angrily. “For now, let’s get all of you out of here. Any magi are welcome to join our efforts to pull down the shield that’s sprung up around the Sunwell Terrace. All the rest, including you suffering souls,” he said sympathetically, knowing what they were enduring, “are free to depart as long as you do not lift a hand against the Shattered Sun.” “He certainly has changed,” Mir’el muttered to Callie as he watched Ger’alin gather up the sickly Wretched and begin trying to minister to them. The warlock winced when Callie grabbed his sore arm and began trying to drag him away, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the Blood Knight.

“He’s been through a lot. Falling prey to an addiction you never really understood in others, turning on the woman you love more than your own life, and then having her run off to join a man who’s plotting to summon the Legion into your homeland, not to mention winding up being looked up to as a role model of the naaru’s teachings tend to change a person.”

“Another one of your friends ran off to join Kael’thas?”

“No, idiot. Alayne. His wife,” Callie said, emphasizing the last word. “They were married by Zerith in Shattrath not even two months ago.”

“She never said a word to me about…but she’s going to marry into House Sunstrider…”

“She couldn’t tell you because, when it happened, we didn’t know if we’d ever be able to set foot inside Silvermoon again. There was no way to get a message to you. Then, the next thing we know, she’s having to look after Jez’ral while Ger’alin redeems the Mag’har orcs and the Dragonmaw, not to mention all that happened when we went against Illidan…it’s a long story, Mir’el.”

“Jez’ral? What happened to him? Tell me, please!”

“He’s fine,” she said quickly. “Just a little…confused right now. He’s been getting better by the day, though. Sar’la, a little orphan girl in Shattrath, keeps him company now that we’re back here. Don’t worry; you’ll be back with him as soon as this is all over.”

“Light, am I going to lose everyone because of my own cowardice?” Mir’el sighed, his shoulders slumping. Callie stared at him quizzically. “I didn’t want to go to Outland with Jez’ral because I was afraid of encountering demons stronger than what I can control easily. I sent Alayne with him hoping that having her there would…temper his impetuous nature.

Now you’re telling me something has happened to Jez’ral, Alayne got married and then now has run off to serve the Legion…the last two ties to my past are hanging by a thread. If I lose them, I’ll die just like poor Miris did. Light, part of me wants to. What’s the use fighting the

388

Legion when they’re so powerful and so close to achieving what they’ve sought for millennia?”

“With that attitude, you will die and you will lose everyone,” Callie said coldly. “I’m sorry, Mir’el, but it’s true. Now, you can come with us and try to help us save Alayne and put a stop to this madness. Or, you can stay here feeling sorry for yourself. Right now, I don’t have time to coddle you.”

The warlock watched, agog, as the unliving human stalked off. He jumped in fright when Ger’alin placed a firm hand on his shoulder and, staring out of eyes that spoke of sympathy and distance, said, “You’re cradling your arm like it’s hurt. I can spare a bit to fix that.”

Mir’el extended his broken wrist to Ger’alin and gasped in shock as the healing energies flowed through his arm. “So, you married Alayne?” the warlock asked.

“I married her. I love her. I’ve loved her for a long, long time. I’ll follow her where ever she goes, Mir’el, just as Jez’ral has followed you around all his life. I honestly wouldn’t know what else to do with myself. Now, come on. I’ll need your help carrying some of these poor souls up to be taken back to Shattrath for healing. I didn’t heal your arm just so you could stare at me like a fool.”

As Mir’el moved to help the other man lift the sickly, the note from Alayne crinkled in his pocket. He resolved to find a moment to read it as soon as he could. Perhaps she would explain this marriage to him and why she hadn’t objected to marrying into House Sunstrider. ~*~*~*~ “It’s thinned a good bit,” Nishi announced. “I think we can probably break it apart now. It’s just a matter of hitting on the right frequency.”

“Get started,” Zerith nodded. “The sooner we can get in there and put an end to this, the better. Ah, Ger’alin. Callie told me you’d found Mir’el. See if he’ll come over here and help us a bit. Any help would be welcomed.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Zerith?” Callie whispered in a hushed aside. “I know Jez’ral’s never been open-mouthed around you but I’ve spoken with him enough to know that Mir’el freaks out in battle. It almost got them both killed in the Battle of Mount Hyjal. Jez’ral said that Mir’el took one look at Archimonde and fainted. He had to drag him off the field before the demons could swarm them and trample him underhoof.”

“Callie, Alayne always spoke of Mir’el being a genius. If she’s behind this shield, he’s our best bet of knowing how to counter it. Besides, from what I can tell of Jez’ral, he’s a good bit like his student. Overprotective to a fault, sometimes. Ah, Mir’el, it is good to see you again, my wonderful landlord.”

“I wish I could say it was a pleasant time to visit with you,” the warlock said softly.

“But I suspect you need me to do something.”

“If you could assist our magi in bringing down that shield…”

“The one keeping all of those demons from attacking us?”

“Yes.” “I’ll try,” Mir’el said with simple dignity. “I’m not much good in a fight but I’ll try. I mean, it’s not as if the world depends on it, is it?”

“Your sarcasm is duly noted,” Zerith laughed. “Where’s Ger’alin?”

“Catching his breath. He healed a few dozen people down in the cells.”

“I’ll go see how he’s holding up,” Zerith said, striding off and leaving the warlock to mingle with the magi under Nishi’s command. The magic users conferred with each other, each explaining his own theory about the shield. Several noted similarities between it and the

389

one that had guarded Tempest Keep in Outland. Mir’el stood silently during the discourse, tucking away the information and letting the pieces of the puzzle fall randomly in his mind.

“I want you to set up a standing arcane wave while I cross it with a fel magic current,” the warlock said once the conversation wound down. “The synergies will cause an explosion along several frequencies. One of the shockwaves should crack the shield enough for the rest of us to slip through and bring down.”

“But if we don’t do it just right,” Jemuya protested, “we’re all going to be less than useless!”

“Then we’d better do it just right,” Mir’el noted dryly. “Begin when ready.”

The warlock centered himself, trying to find the quiet, calm sense of confidence his father had spoken of so hopelessly, never believing Mir’el could do it. The fears that had swept over his mind years ago at the Battle of Mount Hyjal reared their heads, flogging him, berating him for risking all of these innocent youths when he knew damned good and well he couldn’t pull this off. The harder he tried to banish his uncertainties, the more uncertain he grew. “You can do it, Mir’el,” he heard a woman’s voice whisper in his ear. The same woman who had stood beside him when he decided to tell his father he was not going to marry her. “You can do it, old man,” he heard Jez’ral teasing him. “You don’t have a choice,” he told himself, recalling a little girl who used to toddle about his shop, curious about everything she came across.

Laying his currents across those the magi had erected, he felt a moment’s panic when the shield resisted, seeming to absorb the energy of the attack. Forcing more power through the wave, he stood stunned when the shield’s magic began to unravel. The demons and elves standing on the other side growled and shouted in outrage as it collapsed. Their shocked anger did not keep them still for long.

“You did it!” Callie shouted triumphantly to the group of magic users as she hurried in behind Ger’alin to confront the attackers. “This will all be over soon because of you!”

Mir’el nodded and took a deep breath, wondering why he was drenched in sweat and shaking like a leaf in high wind. ~*~*~*~ Lost in the ecstasy of merging her energies with those of the Magisters, Alayne tried to focus on the task at hand. All she really wanted to do was curl up on the floor and weep for the joy coursing through her body. Instead, she forced herself to redouble her concentration as she prepared to open the rift.

Near the doorway, Alayne’s rightful king and ruler, Kael’thas Sunstrider, watched as the rift began to form. His arms were crossed over his chest and he strove to keep his face impassive. Still, he could not hide the glimmer of amazement and admiration that glinted in his eyes. That a mere child could be so powerful still had him agog in wonder from time to time. Now he watched as she casually, almost carelessly, laid down the magic that connected the heart of their ruined heritage to the Twisting Nether.

A blackness deeper than jet tried to soak up the golden light of the Sunwell. Kael’thas stood upright, his heart pounding with anticipation, as he heard twisted, triumphant laughter ringing through the void. A massive, meaty green fist shot out of the well and Kael’thas knew a moment’s bitter disappointment. Alayne wavered, staggered by the force of the demon’s presence, fighting alongside the Magisters to widen and stabilize the rift while a demonic entity forced itself through. Alayne’s spirit felt stretched to the breaking point as the creature continued to push itself through the constricting canal of magic that birthed it into her world.

“You have done well,” the pit lord chortled as his torso pulled free. Kael’thas bowed deeply, more deeply than he would have to royalty from a long-standing ally. “The Master is 390

following after. He has sent me in advance of his glorious appearance on this plane. Have your summoners continue as they are. The Legion is eager to claim this world once and for all.”

“General Brutallus,” Kael’thas said by way of greeting. “Please, allow me to escort you to the front lines. There you can see for yourself the ingenuity my people bring to the Legion. For, unlike the thoughtless Azshara, we have planned to be discovered and we have set up a means to hold our enemies away while we complete what our ancestors could not.”

The pit lord snorted but sounded pleased nonetheless. Wrenching one massive clawed foot free, he shook the floor when he stomped down on the ground. The Magisters struggling to hold the portal for him swayed on their feet as the room rocked violently. The tremors did not cease until the demon had both feet and his tail free. Kael’thas tried to hide his anger at the demon’s insensitivity towards his summoners. The Lady Dawnrunner had collapsed, her hands splayed to keep her from pitching face-first into the golden pool. The others were no better off, most laying on their sides, panting from the strain the demon had placed on them.

Walking over to Alayne, her king knelt beside her and put gentle hands on her shoulders.

“You are doing well, my dear,” he whispered. “When this is all over, you will rest on the finest feather mattress, covered in the softest silk sheets while servants devote themselves to satisfying your every whim until you’ve recovered. After that, I imagine Vangri will keep you occupied.”

Alayne shuddered in revulsion at the thought of how Vangri would want to keep her occupied. Ger’alin’s face flooded her vision for a moment, hale, hearty and strong as he had been before his illness. She wished desperately she could see him one final time before…

Forcing the thought out of her mind, she pushed herself up on unsteady legs. Drawing deeply on the spiritual link connecting her to the Magisters, she focused on the rift. Stabilizing it, she began forcing it wider in anticipation of her final act. Kael’thas’s breath came quickly as he tried to push down the thrill of anticipation tingling through him. Turning his back on the casters, confident that they would achieve the victory he craved, he motioned for Brutallus to walk in front of him. “As you will see, my general, our shield is impreg…”

Alayne recoiled as she felt the shield she and the others had established splinter apart.

Kael’thas drew a quick gasp, feeling it tenfold; he had been the one channeling to maintain it to give the Magisters more energy to concentrate on the Sunwell. “Eredar!” Alayne snapped, never taking her eyes from the pitch pool swelling in the golden fount before her. The three eredar sorcerers who had been her guards before now stood, irritation plain on their faces at the tone coming from a woman whose entire life had been but a moment compared to theirs.

“The Vials,” she ordered coldly. “Seal off this room!”

The eredar pulled the Vials from the ancient Azerothian Well of Eternity out and, tapping into the energies hidden within them, wove a shield around the room. Alayne nodded in satisfaction and returned to her own work. In the very back of her mind, she was glad that this had happened. She hadn’t planned on it happening for another several hours and she’d feared that she would have had to sabotage the shield herself. Now all of the holy energy she could call upon was in place and waiting to aid her in her final act.

Kael’thas, delighted to see the respect and deference accorded to one of his favorite subjects, turned back to Brutallus. The pit lord wore a mask of complete displeasure and distaste. “Impregnable, eh?” he grunted, his putrid breath making Kael’thas gag.

“It nearly was,” the elven king retorted, careful to keep his tone light. “Perhaps had you come through sooner…”

“Come,” Brutallus grunted. “Let us see these enemies of yours. My own on this plane will make short work of them. You can count on that!” ~*~*~*~ 391

“How many demons have we killed?” Dar’ja shouted over the din of battle.

“By my count, around fifty,” Callie shouted back. “And probably twenty of those golems and three dozen elves, give or take ten.”

“Are we making any progress?” the sin’dorei woman groaned hopelessly. “How many more can there be?”

“As many more as there are,” Ger’alin answered loudly, never taking his attention from the doomguard he was hammering down. “We’re making progress. Staying alive is progress. What I’d like to know is where those reinforcements are!”

“Thalodien might have gone senile on his trip back to the holding area,” Zerith muttered beneath his breath. The attack had gone well thus far, save for the fact that the Shattered Sun forces were still stranded on the ramp, their enemies swarming down from above them. They had managed to gain only half of the spiraling walkway that led up to the entrance to the Sunwell’s sacred shrine. The stench of blood, sweat, and demon seemed to have soaked into the grey stone. The priest wondered idly if it would ever wash clean.

“This isn’t going to work,” Ger’alin growled impatiently. “Form ranks and prepare to press as hard as we can! We can’t hold any longer!”

Zerith sighed and wondered at the wisdom of the order. Still, now was not the time to argue tactics with the impatient Blood Knight. Ger’alin had been in favor of charging in the moment the shield fell. Only Mir’el’s fainting had held them back. Now the warlock stood in the midst of the chaos, using his skill in fel magic to turn the demons against each other, enslaving several and sending others back to the Nether from whence they had been birthed.

Zerith felt a thrill of awe at the man’s abilities. He’d thought his adopted sister was good; Mir’el put her and Jez’ral to shame with the casual ease with which he handled demons. Still, the look of controlled terror and distaste that painted the man’s face and mouth made it clear that he would rather have been anywhere – the Twisting Nether excepted – than where he was right now. Zerith waded through the fighting to stand beside Alayne’s teacher, doing what little he could to instill confidence in the man. The priest had realized early on why Callie insisted Jez’ral would not want Mir’el involved in a battle. For all his skill, the warlock seemed torn by self-doubt. He was more surprised than anyone else when one of his spells succeeded.

“Are you ready for what lies ahead?” Zerith asked softly, his eyes scanning the battle and letting him direct his healing energies where they were most needed. Ger’alin shouted a hasty thanks for the shield Zerith threw up around the man just before the doomguard could cut off his leg with a mighty blow.

“No,” Mir’el whispered, his voice tight with strain. He licked his lips nervously and worked on keeping his attention settled on the three demons he had bound to his will. One of them broke away from the battle to aid Ger’alin in his fight. “But then, I don’t really have a choice, do I? If I don’t face it, we’re all dead.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Zerith admitted. “But the Light will be with us. The Light will favor us. No matter what comes, ultimately, the Light will prevail.”

“That’s a comforting thought,” Mir’el said distractedly. “Still, I can’t face Miris and Tal’ar without being able to say I did all I could to rescue their little girl.”

“And I can’t face Valara without being able to say I did everything I could to help the one the Light sent to me for losing her,” Zerith added with a grin. “Just concentrate on that, on rescuing Alayne. It will give you the courage to face what you fear the most.”

“Young man, I don’t even want to think about what I fear facing the most,” the warlock muttered testily as he ordered his demon to follow after Ger’alin when the man began charging up the ramp. “Where are those reinforcements Thalodien ran after?” Mir’el groaned between gritted teeth. “Are you children expected to face the Legion alone? Have we 392

not asked enough of you in asking you to give up your youth, marry, and bear the next generation early to replace the parents you lost?”

An explosion of flame far up the ramp was Mir’el’s answer. Both he and Zerith glanced up, laughing to see dragonhawk riders raining down fire-tipped arrows upon the elves and demons further up the ramp. Thalodien waved at the priest from his perch in the sky and quickly returned to his deadly archery. Keeping the area just in front of the door under a constant bombardment, the aerial Shattered Sun forces helped the attackers on the ground divide their enemies and press them back up the ramp, forcing some over the balcony and down to their deaths on the rocky ground below.

“Took you long enough!” Mir’el shouted up to Thalodien as he began releasing control of the demons he’d enslaved. The ramp was largely cleared now, those not dead being trampled underfoot by the Shattered Sun. Ger’alin, Dar’ja, and the other Blood Knights who had sworn to the naaru quickly dispatched the demons and did their best to prevent their own fallen and the incapacitated among the Sunfury from being completely trodden underfoot.

“Land a few of those things, would you?” Ger’alin called out over his shoulder.

“We’ve got another ten or so prisoners for you to fly back, courtesy of Shattered Sun Skymasters.”

“As you command,” Thalodien said, just a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Ger’alin and several others, including Callie and Tau’re, stood in the doorway, kneeling, letting the archers and magi stand guard over them. The Sunfury elves inside the entrance chamber looked cowed, many of them kept glancing over their shoulders as if checking to see that their escape route was still clear. Ger’alin grinned, an ugly grin, elated at the first sign of fear in his enemies. Perhaps they were near their goal at long last. Perhaps, just beyond that room his wife waited for him to pull her out of whatever mess she was in. Just as the Shattered Sun forces loaded up the last of the wounded, Ger’alin’s grin slid from his face. The entire building trembled as if rocked by a small earthquake. He could hear the vibrations of a deep, powerful voice from somewhere further within. Glancing at those next to him, he looked to see if anyone could understand the vague, distorted speech. Tau’re and Callie both shook their heads in answer to his silent question. Straining his own ears, Ger’alin tried to hear whatever it was that made those inhuman noises.

“I don’t know what’s causing that racket or what’s making the whole building shake,” Callie whispered grimly, “but it’s probably not good for us.”

“Are we clear?” Ger’alin asked, not daring to take his eyes from the scene before him. The elves still seemed terrified. Anything that kept them scared was fine by the Blood Knight.

“Clear,” Zerith called out from far in the back row.

“For the Light and Quel’Thalas!” Ger’alin shouted, shoving off with his feet and keeping a pace ahead of the next closest fighter. Reaching back with his hammer, he smashed against the wall of Sunfury elves blocking him from his goal. The archers and magi who had been standing behind him moved into the room, careful to keep back near the wall as they let loose their spells and arrows against the servants of the Legion. Long moments passed in silence save for the sounds of steel ringing against steel or spells whistling through the air.

Ger’alin kept one eye trained on the distant door at all times as he hacked his way through, eager to be the first to pass beyond this room into what he hoped would be the final destination. So wrapped up in his eager anticipation was the paladin that he scarcely noticed the tremors from earlier growing stronger, then stopping suddenly. When the last elf was down and the healers were surging forward to care for the wounded on both sides, Ger’alin jogged to the door and threw it open. The sight awaiting him squeezed the air from his lungs.

“Well, well,” a sickly, cadaverous Kael’thas laughed lightly. Just behind the dead elven king stood a pit lord that made Magtheridon look like a puppy. Arrayed behind the 393

demonic leader were lines of doomguards, fel guards, and infernals. “I must say, I’m glad to see you again.” Kael’thas rubbed the green crystal sticking out of his chest. Ger’alin winced, feeling his stomach churn. “I’d like to repay you for the kindness you showed me at our last meeting, my murderer. Seize him, Brutallus,” Kael’thas ordered, pointing to Ger’alin. “I’m quite certain that, between our Master and the Lady Dawnrunner, this young man will learn the error of his ways.”

“Light of heaven,” Ger’alin breathed as he steadied himself for the coming onslaught.

“The Legion will fall!” he screamed as he ran headlong into battle. ~*~*~*~ Kael’thas watched avidly from his safe vantage next to Brutallus as the demons swept down on the treacherous children led astray by Voren’thal and the other timid, squeamish elders. A thousand pities that they had persisted in their rebellion, unlike the Lady Dawnrunner. He had hoped, deep down, that word of her elevation would spread among the ranks of the rebellion, convincing them of the truth of his oath to take them back should they see the true light of salvation offered only by the Burning Legion. Glancing down at the bright green crystal planted in his chest, he pushed away the small voice that asked him if this was truly a salvation he’d sought. “Once the Master is here, Arthas will be destroyed at long last. The humans will pay for the indignities they foisted upon us. And my people will shine forth like the sun once again!” he reminded himself firmly. From the first days when Illidan’s insanity had been made manifest – the fool actually refused to believe Kael’thas when he told the mongrel half-demon that he had not won the fight for Icecrown! – Kael’thas had known that only by seeking out and allying with a greater power would his people ever have a hope of survival.

Now, he watched, both excited and strangely detached, as his own younglings fought against the waves of demons Brutallus sent out. The large room, once a library, was littered with the foul remains of demons. Here and there, the body of a sin’dorei, a Forsaken, even the bestial tauren, lay prone, their battle ended forever. Tears streamed down the face of the man who had murdered him. Kael both recoiled and rejoiced at the naked pain painting his killer’s face. “For the Light and Quel’Thalas!” the young man shouted hoarsely. “Zerith?” he asked hopefully. A priest kneeling next to the body of a female Forsaken shrugged helplessly.

“Out cold. I can’t get her up,” Kael’thas could hear the man whisper. “Callie, don’t do like this, please.”

“Get her out of here!”

The priest nodded and gestured towards a black-haired young woman. The woman walked over sadly and, bending down, picked up the body and began dragging it out of the room. Kael’thas couldn’t tell if the Forsaken were dead or merely knocked out; it was so difficult to tell the difference with those whose lives had ended. His killer seemed to redouble his efforts, wielding the powers wrenched from the subservient naaru deftly. Demons howled in pain against the onslaught. The man was skilled, Kael’thas had to admit that.

“Enough of this!” Brutallus grumped when nearly half of his own forces had been expended. Half of his own had bought him the lives of only a tenth of his enemies. The pit lord was infuriated at the astonishing ease with which his demonic legions fell. The elven king had been stunned himself to see how skillfully the so-called Shattered Sun Offensive wove together arcane, holy, and fel energies. Little was able to penetrate their attacking defense. Still, their hard-fought effort had come at a high price. Kael’thas knew that he could throw every demon and elf in the Terrace at them and lose ninety-nine percent of his forces; the reserves of the Legion were vast, as countless as the stars. His attackers could not afford the losses they would take to break past this room. Already, demonic couriers had been sent 394

to the Sunwell Sanctum to request that, while the Lady Dawnrunner worked on widening and solidifying the rift that would bring their savior into the world, she also allow more of his emissaries through.

Enraged at the wily cunning of his enemies, desperate not to be the cause of the latest failure to destroy this annoying flyspeck world, Brutallus waded into combat himself, his massive bulk making the room sway, spilling books from the shelves. He sought out the one elf who seemed to have done the most destruction to his mighty forces. A young elven male with light brown hair and angry green eyes. He hid, like a coward, behind a golden shield, its facing designed to look like an open-faced helm. In his right hand, the man held a hammer that seemed to pulsate with holy power. Brutallus had seen the results of blows from it on his followers. Lifting his enormous double-bladed staff, he prepared to try to cut the man’s arm off, to render that holy hammer hors de combat before taking the man himself out of the fight permanently. That the elven king wanted this one captured alive mattered little to the pit lord of the Burning Legion. He’d already wasted more than enough of his own trying to assuage that small favor. Kael’thas would learn, in mere hours, just what his own standing, and that of his foolish mortal followers, was in the eyes of the Master of the Burning Legion.

The young man stood, braced, waiting for the blow to come. Brutallus could see the stark terror painting the man’s features no matter how he tried to mask it. The pit lord grinned in spite of himself; such puny, pathetic creatures to pit themselves against the might of those chosen by the Dark Titan himself. Hefting his massive double-bladed staff over his head, Brutallus brought it whirling down to crash against the elf’s shield. Pain shot through Brutallus’s fist as the man smashed that blessed hammer down against the demon’s unholy knuckles. The fear fled from the man’s face and he grinned nastily up at his enemy.

“I will crush you!” he roared angrily, shifting his massive weight from clawed foot to clawed foot.

“We’ll see about that!” Ger’alin roared back as he ducked and rolled out of the way of Brutallus’s slashing attack. The pit lord chuckled as he waited for this blood elf to steady himself. Perhaps a bit of sport before he slaughtered the fool would not be amiss. It had been aeons before any mortal creature had been able to trade even the first blows with the pit lord.

Ger’alin, seeing that the pit lord was standing guard, waiting for him to make the next move, feinted, causing the demon to turn a few feet. Continuing with this tactic, Ger’alin slowly placed himself squarely between Brutallus and the leagues of demons waiting in the back of the room. It was foolhardy tactic, one that could easily have him crushed between the pit lord and his fellows. Still, he prayed that Brutallus would not use Ger’alin’s own tactic against him. “Die, demon scum!” he yelled as he charged in, his shield up and his hammer back. The paladin winced and nearly drove his teeth through each other at the pain that rang through his left arm. He wanted nothing more than to let the shield drop, especially after having taken two direct blows with it. Still, for his life, for his hope of seeing Alayne once he managed to get past this unholy horror, he held it up, letting Brutallus rain blows down on it until he thought his arm would come clear out of his shoulder socket and fall to the floor.

Still, he forced himself to hold his shield up, to keep it up when he felt certain the bones in his arms were about to be ground to powder from the force of the hits he was taking. Just as he felt that he could take no more, he reached down deep inside himself and, finding a last reservoir of strength, met the blow with his own, pushing the demon’s fist up slightly, causing him to turn just a hair and opening a gap between his armor plating and the sensitive skin of his underbelly. Quicker than thought, Ger’alin threw his shield arm up and slammed in with his hammer, striking the demon in one of the most vulnerable areas possible. The demon shrieked in pain, wobbling back and forth on his feet, waving his arms as he screamed out his agony. Reaching out to the Light, Ger’alin hurled his hammer again, driving it deeper

395

into the soft skin of the demon’s abdomen, pushing in with the force of life and the Light against a creature of death and Shadow.

As he continued to lash out at his attacker, exchanging his earlier defense for a full-on offense, Ger’alin grinned to see spells of all kinds flying to land on the demon’s back.

Brutallus shivered under the force facing him, his movements slowing as his energy was drained, diverted from attacking to surviving the dozens of stinging bites his lesser enemies rained down on him. The demon seemed to be gathering himself for one final assault.

Ger’alin, knowing he couldn’t take any more abuse, dropped his shield, grabbed hold of the demon’s breastplate, and climbed up, scrambling, his sore arm threatening to let him fall each second. The effort to clutch and pull himself over the demon’s plate, to get his hammer level with its throat, made tears stream with the sweat coursing down his face. Still, he dug in, hanging on for dear life as he smashed his hammer into the demon’s throat. The Blood Knight threw himself clear, almost losing his hammer in the process, barely in time.

Brutallus lurched, his eyes widening in shock as his clawed hands clutched involuntarily at his shattered windpipe. Sickening gurgling noises leaked from the demon’s mouth and he swayed, collapsing on his side, making the whole building shudder violently.

“Gaah,” he gurgled, the sound wet and nearly incomprehensible, “well done. Now…this gets…interesting…”

Not waiting to see if his foe was truly dead, Ger’alin grasped for his shield with his bruised and battered arm. Whirling his hammer in his right hand, he rushed to meet the demons left in the back of the room while Kael’thas, stricken, fled, dreading to report to his Master the loss of one of the Legion’s finest generals. ~*~*~*~ Mir’el watched as Ger’alin battled the hulking pit lord, too terrified to do anything other than stare in stupefied horror as the demon hammered down on the young man’s shield.

“How can he stand that?” the warlock wondered, the inconsequential thought keeping the direness of the situation from overwhelming him completely. He watched on in awe as, when it seemed that the paladin would have no strength left to bear the onslaught, he switched from defense to offense and began pounding away at the twisted being, calling on the power of his faith to act as both shield and weapon against the blasphemy before him.

Before Mir’el realized what was happening, the pit lord was swaying unsteadily and then falling to the floor. Ger’alin appeared in front of the corpse of his enemy, ready to fight the demons who were beginning to cross the open space seeking revenge for their fallen leader.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Mir’el muttered angrily before he had time to think about what he was doing. The words flew from his tongue and the power coursed from his body, slamming into the slimy soul of a doom guard and forcing it into the warlock’s command. Finishing the binding faster than he had ever bound a non-summoned demon before, Mir’el ordered it to whirl around and watched in glee as it began slashing away at another doom guard, clipping the creature’s wings and arms before his fellow had a chance to realize that one of his own had been turned. Recalling the steady strokes and controlled power Ger’alin had used with his own hands in combat, Mir’el turned his demon from his normally chaotic hacking and slashing towards a more finely tuned style of fighting. He tried to keep the doom guard at Ger’alin’s back, acting as a rear guard for the paladin, freeing the man up to wade into the thickest part of the fighting and smash the un-natural creations with the holy power that sang through his soul as magic sang through Mir’el’s.

By the time the Shattered Sun forces had fought through the demons, Kael’thas had fled. The room stank, the air thick with the putrid air of demon corpses. Ger’alin glanced 396

back around, surprised to see Mir’el standing next to the body of Brutallus and grinning down at it. The paladin winced when the warlock plucked his knife from his belt pouch and began gathering samples. He’d seen Alayne do that often enough to know that it was necessary in order to learn more on how to control and destroy the foul things. Still, he didn’t like watching it.

Walking over to the door Kael’thas had ducked out during the fighting, Ger’alin cast one last glance back over the room. Seeing no sign of Dar’ja and praying that no news was good news, the paladin hurried on, eager to be the first one to find his wife and spirit her out of there, leaving no one the wiser. ~*~*~*~ “This place is impossible,” Zerith growled as he and the others tried to pick their way back down the twisted corridor. “I refuse to believe such a place can exist. Was it always like this?” he demanded of Mir’el.

Thalodien, fresh from the rear lines with news of the wounded, opened his mouth to answer. Mir’el forestalled him with raised eyebrows and a look that reminded the other man that Darkweaver had been born to a higher station than he ever would achieve on his own.

Zerith made note of the reaction; it could come in useful to have a minor noble on his side when dealing with elders who refused to acknowledge the changed reality their race faced.

“No, Zerith, it was not always like this. It was never like this. It should not be like this now.

That it is so twisted, with so many dead ends, with so many impossible turns, tells me that either someone doesn’t want us to penetrate very far or…”

“Or?” “Or a certain Someone is drawing very close. My father told me that the mightiest of demons could and would unravel reality on the worlds they were approaching. The fear, the chaos, the confusion works to their benefit and our detriment. All we can do is try to navigate these passages as best we can, maintain our sanity, and pray for the best.”

“We’ve got to hurry!” Zerith yelped, hiking his robes up and preparing to run down the hallway towards the door that kept moving just out of reach.

“Wait!” Mir’el said, grabbing the man’s arm before he could take more than a halfstep on his run. “You’ve got to stay calm, Zerith. You can’t let yourself get any more confused than you must be. Come on, man, did Alayne pass nothing on to you? Fear and chaos are weapons in the Legion’s hands. If you give in to them, you’ll die as I almost did during the Battle of Mount Hyjal and even during this battle today. I know it’s hard,” Mir’el admitted openly, “it’s hard for me as well. But we must hold on and remain calm.”

“I’d feel better if we could just find Ger’alin,” Zerith sighed. “He couldn’t have had more than two minute’s head start on us and we can’t find him!”

“Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking!” Zerith insisted, his voice going up an octave. Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, he tried to still the racing of his heart. “I’m just worried. Ger’alin’s been insistent than I remain in the rear lines. I agreed to abide by those terms. How can I keep my promise, though, if I don’t know where he is? Not that I would ever harm Alayne,” he thought to himself. “Still, I did promise.”

“We’ll find him,” Mir’el said confidently, hiding the knowledge that Ger’alin could very well have walked off into the vast void of the Nether. They themselves could be wandering through it themselves. The way unreality seemed to mix with reality made Mir’el want to gibber and weep. He’d only seen anything like it once and that had been years ago, near Dalaran, as Archimonde entered the world. His mind still shrank from the nightmarishly

397

twisted trees, the jagged, floating rocks, and the inverted ground that had marked the area of the summoning.

As the group, clustered in close, walked on down the corridors, each turn and pathway taking them deeper into a crazed mind’s night terrors, Zerith prayed that this had been done intentionally. That this was some part of Kael’s plot to keep them from him. He didn’t want to think about the other possibility. They’d worked so hard, they’d come so far, so fast, to see it all end with the Legion stepping into Quel’Thalas.

Turning around a hairpin corner, Zerith grinned, seeing Ger’alin kneeling in a doorway, his back to the approaching group. The grin vanished when he saw that the other man’s shoulders were slumped and shaking as if he were weeping. Breaking away from the others, Zerith ran up to Ger’alin, squatting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Alayne?” he asked.

“No,” Ger’alin said softly through his tears. Pointing into the room, he gestured at a black, floating creature that, had it been shining, Zerith would have thought was a naaru.

“M’uru,” Ger’alin sighed. “Something has happened to him.”

“What is that thing?”

“The naaru that Kael sent to us. For a long time, he was held prisoner beneath our Sanctum,” Dar’ja explained, jogging up in time to hear Zerith’s question. “The Magisters drew his holy power off and taught us how to tap into it. Remember, I told you about it the first night we met. How I thought the priests were all doing the exact same thing.”

“That doesn’t look like any naaru I’ve seen before,” Zerith said tonelessly.

“He doesn’t look like his old self at all,” Ger’alin muttered hoarsely. “He was always darker than the others we’ve come to know, probably the result of the forcible draining. But now…now he’s completely changed! I just tried to speak with him, to let him know I was on his side and,” the paladin said, raising trembling hands to his face. Dar’ja recoiled, taking several steps back and licking her lips in fear. Mir’el walked up, wondering what was keeping the three in the doorway and why all of the rest of the troops seemed to hang back, as if sensing their leaders’ reluctance to press forward.

“What in the name of the nine hells is that?” the warlock blurted out. Ger’alin shot him a nasty look and sighed heavily.

“The naaru reverence all life,” Ger’alin said suddenly. “But that one…that one longs to kill. It now reverences death. I saw it…when I spoke with it…it just…there were three elves channeling into it, trying to control it and they just…a wave of dark energy and they were gone! I blinked and they were gone. We can’t go in there,” he groaned, “and we can’t go back. I’ve tried. I nearly lost my mind trying to get back. Everything began twisting and turning in on itself! What’s happening here! Why can’t I just find her and get out of here?”

“We…what happens when you speak with it? There must be some way to let him know we mean him no harm,” Zerith said, grasping for a possibility that would let them continue.

“I won’t do that again!” Ger’alin swore, his voice thick with anguish. “It was like what Callie…oh Light, Callie…it was like what she described happened to her when Alayne used necromancy at the Black Temple. I’ve never felt so…unclean, so violated, in all of my life. Not even when I woke up next to Ta’sia and realized what we had done! Not even when I realized what I had done to Alayne in my madness and my lust for the Vials! Not even when I heard my own mother’s dying screams and ran, ran faster than I thought possible, away from her!” he sobbed. “Never, never have I felt so…”

“It’s okay, Ger’alin,” Dar’ja said soothingly, kneeling down beside him and stroking his hair, letting him bury his face on her shoulder and sob. “It will be okay. I’ll go in there and…”

398

“No!” he howled. “If I won’t face it, I won’t let anyone else! Oh, we’re trapped! We can’t go forward and we can’t go back!”

Mir’el and Zerith exchanged helpless glances over the man’s head, wondering just what they were to do. Ger’alin was right; they could not go back and, if his gibbering was true, they could not go on. “Dammit,” Zerith swore beneath his breath, “what are we to do?”

Tau’re, watching impassively from the group several paces back, strode forward, his eyes set on the dark naaru. “That is?” he asked.

“M’uru. A tortured, twisted naaru,” Zerith said in an undertone, his attention divided between Ger’alin and the room ahead.

“I see,” the tauren murmured. “It is in pain? Rabid?”

“I suppose,” Zerith answered, unsure of the right description.

“Then we must put it down. I have seen my own hunting dogs, cherished companions, turn into slavering, snarling enemies, snapping their teeth at me even after I had fed them with my own hands. They did not mean harm – they were suffering and that was the only way they had to communicate with me once the disease took their minds.”

“I agree but…”

“It is hard to put down a companion,” Tau’re interrupted, glancing down at Ger’alin.

“I will do it for him.”

“Tau’re, no, wait!” Zerith shouted as the tauren entered the room. Tau’re unsheathed his two mighty blades and, with a graceful, dignified bow of his head, charged in, his horns down.

“Tau’re?” Ger’alin muttered thickly, looking up from Dar’ja’s shoulder. “No!” he shouted, leaping to his feet. “First Alayne, then Callie, not Tau’re too!” he shrieked, running in after his friend through many battles, his fear for the tauren drowning out his fear of the twisted naaru.

Zerith threw up a hand, holding the others back in the doorway as he watched the pair of fighters bull in, Ger’alin quickly overtaking Tau’re and placing himself square between the floating dark crystal and the fury-inspired bull-man. Zerith couldn’t tell what they were yelling at each other but, when Ger’alin turned back, holding his shield up to deflect any blows that might fall from in front of him, the agony on his face at the thought of losing yet another loved one made Tau’re shrug and step back reluctantly. Perking his ears forward and straining to hear over the harsh vacuum that seemed to whirl within the room, Zerith listened as Ger’alin pleaded with the naaru he had once abused.

“M’uru, please,” Ger’alin said, his shield still up and his hammer still at the ready.

“We mean you no harm. Let us pass. I know I am numbered amongst those who held you prisoner. I know that I am one of those who drew your life away for his own selfish ends.

But, A’dal, your brother, told me that you chose the path you’ve walked of your own free will. In hope of giving some of us a way to be redeemed, to be cleansed, to be brought back to the faith we so willfully abandoned. You’ve succeeded, my friend. Even now, Liadrin, she who led us in our torture of you, she has pledged to serve the Light and learn from the naaru.

You’ve done what you set out to do. Please, let us pass. Once the danger threatening all life is gone, I will see to it personally that you are reunited with your brethren and that my people, who so thoughtlessly and selfishly took what you offered so thoughtfully and selflessly, work to restore you to full health.”

For a moment it seemed as if the naaru could understand and was considering the offer. He hung, an air of uncertainty emanating from him. Ger’alin ventured to lower his shield a tick, a slow smile beginning to blossom across his ravaged face.

Seconds later, Ger’alin was picking himself up off the ground, wondering just how he hand landed flat on his back almost all the way across the room. Tau’re lay behind him, staring up at the ceiling, blinking and wiggling his fingers and hooves as if uncertain how to 399

use them. The others who had remained crowded outside were peeking through the doorway.

Ger’alin saw the horror painting Zerith’s face and sat up, looking in front of him. Dozens of void creatures, beings of pure shadow giving off waves of pure hatred of all that lived, were gliding slowly across the room. “Forgive me,” Ger’alin sighed as he pulled himself to his feet and, without another glance backwards, ran to the naaru. “Try to keep those things busy, would you, Tau’re?” he tossed over his shoulder as he leapt into the air, his blessed hammer flashing even in the thickness of the dark, striking sparks against the naaru’s crystalline structure when it connected.

M’uru shrieked, a sound that shattered the soul and made bones feel as if they were being pulverized. Ger’alin ground his teeth as he landed heavily on his feet, feeling as if he were going to explode from the torment of the demented naaru’s cry. The others who had been pouring into the room, their backs against the far wall, clutched their heads, clawing at their ears to block out the awful sound. Forcing himself to fight through it, Ger’alin spun and, seeing the naaru wafting down towards him, prepared for the fight ahead. “Would that I could have redeemed you as you have me,” he whispered to M’uru as the naaru drew near. Jerking to the right, he swung, wincing when his hit connected and broke away part of the naaru’s spinning appendage. Pain washed over him once more as M’uru cried out but the Blood Knight forced himself to push through it, concentrating on hammering away at the creature who had given him so much.

In the back of the room, Zerith tried to focus on not biting through his tongue every time Ger’alin swung at M’uru. The creature’s blood-curdling shrieks were terrible to hear.

The magi seemed torn between using their hands to cast or to cover their own ears. Zerith understood how they felt. It took every ounce of will power he had to focus his mind on the power of the Light, to let it flow through him, giving strength to Ger’alin’s strikes and placing a protective shield around Tau’re while the tauren hacked away at the void creatures.

“Ignore the naaru!” Zerith ordered. “Take those things down now!”

The group shifted their spells away from the naaru and onto the demonic creatures of anti-life. Tau’re nodded in acknowledgement, continuing to hack away at them with blades that blurred into indistinctness from the speed. When the last creature exploded, throwing its wispy arms up in surrender to the death it served, the group turned back to see Ger’alin on his knees, all of his strength centered on lifting his hammer to land yet another blow while M’uru wrecked havoc on his mind.

“No,” he whispered over and over again, his voice hoarse from the repetitive denials.

“No.” Flashing in his mind with each attack was the totality of the torment M’uru had suffered, the sum of hatred for all that lived – especially Ger’alin. “Light help me,” the Blood Knight panted as he forced himself to strike again, chipping away at the naaru. “M’uru, don’t do this!”

“Bring it down,” Zerith ordered coldly.

Spells whistled through the air, exploding into the creature with the ferocity of rage and fear the group felt in the midst of the very denial of existence. As each magi landed a hit, they wavered, seeing what Ger’alin saw, feeling the enormity of guilt for it, knowing that this once-magnificent being had willingly given his life for them and here they were… “It’s not true!” Zerith shouted. “Don’t!” Following his own orders, Zerith smote the creature with the outraged purity of the Light, his spell illuminating the dark being, making it seem, for just a second, to once again belong among the servants of life and the Light.

M’uru snarled as the holy energy pervaded him, twisting and writhing in hatred of the power he had been born from. His body rippled, changing, flowing from crystal to some matter made purely of the rage of the void. He seemed to drink in the miniscule amount of light in the room, casting shadows in the darkness. Zerith cowered, his knees shaking and threatening to drop him on the ground, as the creature’s hatred centered on him. His hands 400

gripped the sides of his head, trying to blot out the inchoate screams ringing across his very soul.

Ger’alin pulled himself up and renewed his frenzied attack on M’uru, desperate to bring the creature down before the priest died – or went mad – from the attack on his psyche.

“No no no no no no no no no!” he screamed as he hammered away at the naaru, his mace a blur of Light and fury.

“Ger’alin, calm down,” Zerith said shakily, staring down at the man in horror.

Ger’alin glanced up, his attack halted, to see his friend’s wide eyes gazing at him as if the priest had never seen him before. “He’s gone. You can stop.”

The Blood Knight looked down, seeing the shattered remains of the naaru littering the floor around him. He shuddered, his shield and mace dropping from nerveless hands that he lifted to cover his face as he wept. Dar’ja bit her lip, a lone tear trickling down her cheek as she walked over to stare at the corpse of the one being who had offered them hope in their darkest hour.

“Come on,” Zerith urged, not wanting to risk remaining in one place in this crazed building too long. “We’ve got more battles ahead of us. Let’s go.” ~*~*~*~ “We cannot let them pass,” Vangri said swiftly to the few soldiers remaining at hand.

He’d been unable to reach the rest of their forces; the twisting corridors had made finding his way impossible. He only hoped that his enemies faced the same confusion and that it kept them away long enough. All they needed was another hour – two at most – and then it would be too late. When he’d last peeked in on the Magisters a quarter hour prior, Alayne had been struggling to hold the rift open. It had been wider than Vangri or Kael’thas believed possible.

Somehow, the black hole seemed to dwarf the golden pool containing it. Vangri glanced over at his king and kindred, shivering. Kael’thas’s face bore a look of ecstasy as he waited for his savior. Vangri, seeing the end draw nigh, began to wonder if Kil’jaeden were truly going to keep his word to the sin’dorei servitors of the Legion.

“He’ll be here soon,” Kael’thas said eagerly. Vangri wondered which ‘he’ his leader was referring to. “And we’ll offer up the lives of those who would oppose him to the great one.”

“Indeed we shall, my lord and my king,” Vangri said softly, his eyes keeping a constant scan of the end of the corridor. “Indeed we shall.” ~*~*~*~ Alayne struggled to hang on to consciousness, drawing more and more deeply on her link to Anveena just to keep the rift stable. The pure essence of the ancient Sunwell thrilled through her, sustaining and buffering her through the exhaustion that threatened to drag her under. She could not stop now. She could not afford the price of failure. She was too close to her goal. Within a few hours at most, the Legion would be decapitated and the Sunwell would be restored. She was glad Kael and Vangri had taken her hint to stand guard at the door; gladder still to have a real reason to keep them out, to keep Kael from possibly stopping her should he realize at the last moment what her true plan was. Now none would know the truth.

The shock and outrage at her betrayal would aid her friends in healing. The disbelief and defeat in loss would cow the Sunfury, making it easier for them to be folded back in to the rest of their people; or, failing that, imprisoned indefinitely.

Tugging gently at the magical barrier around the perimeter of the rift, she pulled it still wider, studying it with a critical eye. Nodding to herself – it seemed more than wide 401

enough; thrice the distance across it had been when Brutallus forced his way clear, she set the beginning of the summoning spell in the heart of it. If she needed to widen it more to allow Kil’jaeden in far enough to believe he would succeed, she could.

“I can’t take this much longer,” one of the Magisters whispered wearily. “It is…too much…”

“Hold together, Tan’ra,” Alayne snapped. “Another few hours and it will all be over.”

“Let us do this quickly, my Lady,” another Magister said, watching as Alayne painstakingly laid down the threads of magic that would connect their world to where Kil’jaeden waited. She wove the magic with deliberateness and deftness, taking care to see that each strand fell exactly where it should.

“Better safe than sorry,” she muttered, her concentration focused on the task at hand.

Besides, she thought to herself, I don’t want to die any sooner than I must. Oh, how I wish I could see them all again just one last time…

As the heart of the summoning spell took final shape, Alayne felt a powerful presence reach out from the other side and begin weaving its own magic into hers. Her heart began to race, pounding loudly in her ears as she realized that Kil’jaeden himself was taking a hand in his summoning. “Light,” she prayed silently, “why didn’t I think of this?” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin skidded to a halt, his feet nearly coming out from under him, when he saw Kael standing at the end of the hallway he’d just dashed into. The no-longer-dead elven king smirked at him. Waves of powerful fel energy washed down the corridor, making Ger’alin want to gag. “You’re too late!” Kael shouted triumphantly. “The Master will be here soon!

The world will burn! The world will pay for what it’s done to us!”

“What it’s done to us?” Ger’alin shouted. “Are you mad?”

“Seize him!” Kael’thas screamed to his soldiers. “Seize him and offer him to our savior as a sacrifice befitting one of his greatness and puissance!”

Ger’alin edged backwards, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see the rest of the Shattered Sun forces staggering to a halt just ahead of the bend that would lead them to where Ger’alin stood. The Blood Knight set himself, wondering just how long he could hold off a dozen highly trained royal sin’dorei guards, not to mention Kael’thas Sunstrider himself.

Licking his lips nervously, he lifted his shield and set his feet, preparing for an attack from all sides. He shook his head furtively when he saw Zerith start to lead the others closer. He didn’t want them in the fight just yet. Let Kael and the rest think the man was alone. Let them rush in, overconfident of victory. Let them get caught between a Blood Knight at the end of his patience, knowing, just knowing that his wife waited in the room at Kael’s back and a pack of fighters eager to get out of a twisted building from hell. He’d been nearly overcome when he’d first glanced around, seeing the dark corridor that had so haunted his dreams.

From the door at the far end, he could see golden light streaming through the cracks. Still, something about the fel energies washing outward in greater and greater shock waves disturbed him. What was she really doing in there? His dreams told him she was trying to reignite the Sunwell. But was she truly summoning Kil’jaeden? To what purpose? How far had she been tortured, pressed into doing this thing?

“For the Light and Quel’Thalas!” Ger’alin roared, his battle cry defiant against the foul atmosphere pervading the hallway. Lifting his shield to meet the first attack, he swung wide, catching three fighters in the weak spot of their armor at the waist with the face of his hammer. Light energy arced off the felblood elves, making them scream and writhe in agony as they fell to the floor. No sooner were they down for the moment than several of their 402

fellows took their place. Now Ger’alin nodded, giving Zerith the permission to charge in that the priest had been waiting for.

The forces of the Disorder of Azeroth under the banner of the Shattered Sun Offensive ran into the room, quickly overwhelming the felblood elf soldiers. When Ger’alin saw that the last few were being cut down by Tau’re, he rushed further into the room, blocking the sight of the corridor from his nightmares out, focusing on Kael’thas. This time, the man would die and stay dead! Ger’alin’s advance was cut off by the younger felblood elf standing next to Kael’thas. The man blocked his path and let loose a roar that made Ger’alin stop short.

“Protect Alayne Dawnrunner!” the man shouted. Ger’alin skidded to a halt, looking around anxiously for sign of his wife. “For the glory of House Sunstrider!”

“Alayne?” Ger’alin asked. Seeing the other man blink in confusion, he bored in, swinging hard with his hammer, “For Alayne!”

All of the others spread out across the back of the room, leaving the two men who claimed the same woman to fight it out. Even Kael stepped backwards, staring at his murderer in confusion. Why was the man screaming out the name of the woman who had brought the king the mighty gift he needed? With every blow that landed, the paladin shouted her name, calling out to her as if seeking to bring her to his side by the mere utterance of her name. Vangri’s gaze at his opponent was one of pure hatred. Was this the Ger’alin Alayne had muttered about in her sleep the few nights he’d stood guard over her rest?

For his part, Ger’alin hammered away at the man, desperate to break through his solid defense and through him as well. Alayne lay just beyond that door. He knew it. He could sense her presence, both soothing and flogging him to hurry. The waves of fel energy were coming faster, now, continually bathing the groups with their tainted power. Ger’alin fought on frantically, pressing Vangri back, grinning darkly as the felblood was forced to step back against the Blood Knight’s onslaught of assault. When Vangri’s back thudded against the wall, Ger’alin moved in, certain of the first kill that would pave the way to rejoining his wife.

Lifting his mace, he brought it down, aiming for the weak spot in the armor between the ear and neck. He blinked when his hammer whistled through empty air and gasped when he felt a slicing along the back of his knee. Vangri, using the wall, had feinted to the side, his demonically-heightened speed letting him side step Ger’alin and cut across one of the paladin’s vulnerable spots. Ger’alin winced, his eyes going wide in shock, and planted his weight back on his good leg. He pivoted, careful to keep his injured leg from taking much of his weight while he focused on trying to bring Vangri down.

Vangri laughed, sounding darkly delighted to see his foe faced with such a dilemma.

Letting his blade whirl through the air, he concentrated on trying to leave Ger’alin no choice but to step firmly on that injured leg. Sweat beaded on the Blood Knight’s forehead as his mind sorted quickly through the possibilities that might let him beat down his opponent.

Finding none, he gritted his teeth and gingerly placed weight on the torn knee, praying it would hold long enough to last him through one final flurry of attack.

The felblood did not give the paladin time to gather himself, instead boring in relentlessly, cutting swiftly and decisively at Ger’alin’s flanks, at his arms, doing everything in his power to break through the Blood Knight’s defense and kill the murderer of his king and kindred.

“Vangri, I withdraw consent for you to marry my ward!” Mir’el shouted from across the room. “Never will a child under my care marry into a house dedicated to destruction!”

Vangri snarled and looked as if he might have been about to respond to Mir’el’s taunt.

Even Kael’thas’s jaw had dropped in shock. Ger’alin took full advantage of the distraction offered and slammed his mace into the side of Vangri’s head, putting the full weight of his body behind the blow and toppling over on top of his enemy. Vangri stared at him, a look of 403

shock and sorrow twisting his engorged and swollen features. “Protect…Al…” he gasped, his nearly sightless eyes groping for his king.

Kael’thas stared down at Vangri, his face white and pinched with fear and hatred.

Glaring up from his kinsmen’s staring eyes to the soft, almost compassionate features of his killer, Kael’thas felt anger, outrage, and pure hatred exploding through his skull. As the waves of fel energy changed from shockwaves washing out to a solid atmosphere of void energies, Kael’s anger increased. They were so close. It could not go wrong now!

Ger’alin’s eyes met the sparking gaze of his once-dead-now-living ruler calmly. The Blood Knight knew he had no hope of standing up to an enraged Kael’thas. The last fight on the bridge of the hijacked naaru vessel had been a very close-run affair. Now, laying atop the body of the other man, one of his legs nearly useless, Ger’alin wondered how he could have made it so close to his goal to die just outside the door of his dreams.

“Kael’thas, how did you come to this sorry state?” Mir’el asked sadly, drawing the angry king’s attention upon himself. “You were once the jewel of our people. I remember well the days when you stood among the top of the magocracy in Dalaran. I remember well the sunlit days of my youth when I could gaze up to you as a sunflower gazes up on the sun.

What happened to you, Kael’thas of House Sunstrider, illustrious descendent of Dath’Remar who led our people into their exile and their pride?”

While Mir’el held Kael’s attention, beseeching his ruler and former idol to explain his course of action, Zerith began inching across the room, desperate to reach Ger’alin and heal him before the maddened undead elf could take out his anger on the wounded warrior.

“For far too long, our people accepted that exile my ancestor led them into,” Kael’thas spat angrily. “For far too long, we kept ourselves hidden away, allying with those filthy humans who betrayed us! Those despicable cowards whose prince broke our very heart! Even now, their filthy remains stain our pure land! I have led our people back to the path of glory.

We will take our rightful place amongst the rulers of the universe and we will make those who sent us out of the magical glades which are ours by right of birth and blood pay. We will make those whose foul minion, Arthas, wreaked havoc on our land pay. At long last, we will become the very sun we have embraced!”

“How can one shine if one wraps oneself in the black of night?” Mir’el asked. “Turn back, Kael’thas. Go in there where my young ward, the child of a woman who was like a sister to me, go in there where she stands doing your bidding and have her stop. Have her…”

“She came to me of her own will!” he shrieked angrily. “She brought with her two Vials of water from the Well which was lost to our people through our ancestors’ cowardice and lack of skill! She swore oath to me! Right now, she finishes the spell that will bring our deliverance to this world! You shall not interfere!”

“Try to keep weight off that leg,” Zerith said to Ger’alin as he wove healing magic from across the room. Ger’alin gaped at the priest and then bent his knee, feeling just a twinge of pain instead of burning agony when the muscles contracted. Shoving himself up, he dove for Kael’thas just as the man began to cast a spell that called up an aura of flame around him.

“Augh!” Ger’alin shouted as the magic burned the flesh of his face. He could smell his hair burning and feel his armor heating uncomfortably. Lifting his hammer, he started to drive it into his erstwhile ruler’s face when a feral grin from Kael stopped him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw something he’d only ever heard tell of before now.

A bird of flame and magic hovered protectively over the elven king, its rainbowspangled wings beating and sending waves of heat washing over Ger’alin. Kael’thas did not seem to be affected at all by the mystical heat radiating from the legendary bird. Ger’alin threw himself off the man, rolling away to cooler safety. The phoenix regarded him evenly, hovering near Kael’thas as if to shield the man with its magical body.

404

“Anar’alah belore!” he roared as he pointed at Ger’alin, ordering the phoenix to attack. The paladin stared in shock, too awed momentarily to attack a creature of myth and magic.

“Ger’alin!” he heard Dar’ja shout, pulling him back to reality. Rolling again, spinning across the room on his shoulder, Ger’alin dodged the bird’s swooping fiery attack, sprinting and weaving until he was brought face to face with the man he’d killed once before.

“There is still time to stop this madness, Kael’thas,” he said calmly, his face a mask of tranquility he did not feel. “Stand aside, let us go in there and stop the summoning. Stand aside and you can and will remain our king and greatest hero. Stand aside, let me through that door and all can be forgiven even where it may never be forgotten. But please, stand aside!”

With a flick of his wrist, Kael’thas answered. The phoenix swooped down, intent on Ger’alin. A bolt of shadow struck the bird, making it scream out in high-pitched agony.

Ger’alin winced and covered his ears, seeing others – Kael included – do the same as the fel energy from Mir’el’s attack wrought destruction on a creature of pure magic. The minutes of the bird’s misery seemed to stretch into hours before it collapsed to the floor, nothing left of it but ashes and a small glowing gem. Kael recovered from his shock at his minion’s death quickly, casting bolts of searing fire, very like the ones Ger’alin had seen Alayne use in Stromgarde so long ago. They struck the paladin, burning him to the bone. He ground his teeth together as he forced himself forward, praying he would live to at least take his killer king down with him.

A shield of holy magic sprang up around him, quelling the flames and soothing his flayed and irritated skin. Zerith heaved a sigh of relief; that had been far too close for comfort. His friend’s hair still smoked from the earlier attack. Ger’alin danced in before his king could react and smashed his hammer into the demonic green crystal protruding through his chest. Drumming away at it while Kael’thas stared down in sick shock at the blood oozing from his chest, from the very wound this very man had dealt him before, the elven king fell to his knees. “The world…shall burn…” he gasped as he fell on his face and lay still.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Ger’alin spat as he rubbed at his itching, burning skin. ~*~*~*~ From his vantage in the heart of the Twisting Nether, Kil’jaeden grinned, waiting for the portal to grow steady. It was more than wide enough for him to force his way through now but he did not want to experience the birth pangs Brutallus had suffered through. The current leader of the Burning Crusade – a being hand-picked by the Dark Titan Sargeras himself – deserved more dignity than a mere underling. Through the golden glow, he could see the woman responsible for maintaining the spell that would allow him, at long last, entry into the flyspeck world that had given him and his fellows such trouble in the past.

Finally, this world, touched and blessed by those cursed Titans, would be no more.

Finally, the power they had so foolishly vested in it would belong to those who knew how to wield it. The mortal races would be enslaved and then perfected, as had countless mortal races across the universe. The potent magic of creation would feed the leaders of the Legion for centuries before it was spent. Had he a heart, it would have been thudding in anticipation.

“Steady now, steady,” he could hear the woman’s low voice sing. It rang in his ears, irritating him beyond measure. Mortal voices had a tendency to do that to him. Forcing himself to calm, Kil’jaeden reminded himself that this woman would have her uses in the hours after his arrival. Still, it might be a true pity to kill her. He could sense a potency about her, a raw talent that, once properly cultivated, could be of use to him. Perhaps, if she proved

405

herself further, he might let her live. He would have to consider it once he was on the other side of that portal. Yes, perhaps she would live…

Through the magical gateway connecting his realm to the world of Azeroth, Kil’jaeden could see the door behind the woman swinging open. She turned, the magic maintaining the gateway growing weaker for a moment. The demon general snarled. It could not go wrong now! Weaving his own magic, he prepared to make his own way into the world… ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sat, shivering in a mixture of anticipation, fatigue, and backwash from the healing magic Dar’ja had wrought on him. He tugged at his hair, now mostly singed to his elbows – shorter in some places – wondering what he was going to do with it now. He shook his head, trying to scatter the stray thoughts but unable to focus. The way was clear, now.

Alayne waited for him just beyond that door. She was his wife; why was he now more nervous than he had been on their bridal night? Standing up, bouncing on the balls of his feet, he strode over to the door, exchanging a significant glance with Zerith that warned the man to stay far back. Putting his hand to the knob, he twisted it and pushed… ~*~*~*~ Alayne was drenched in sweat. The weight of her sodden robes dragged at her shoulders, threatening to pull her down to the floor in a heap. She glanced over at the eredar sorcerers, nodding when she saw the brightly glowing Vials in their hands. She spared a quick look at the shield that would, she hoped, contain the explosion. She could feel Kil’jaeden weaving his own magic, biding his time, preparing for his triumphal entry into her world. She prayed that the explosion would destroy him.

“Now Anveena,” she whispered, licking her lips. Her mouth seemed to be the only part of her that was dry. With the dark portal yawning wide beneath her, Alayne began siphoning off as much of the Sunwell’s avatar’s energy as she could. She would have needed it to actually hold the portal at any rate. The use she had in mind for it, however, was much more appropriate. “My lord Kil’jaeden,” she announced grandly, “be welcome into the world of Azeroth, a world ready for your glory and for your harvest.”

She could sense a feeling of unease from the demon as he began to push his way into the gateway linking their diverse realities. Something about it made her want to look behind her; made her feel as if someone were staring at her back and willing her to turn and look at them. She shook her head, droplets of sweat flying about her, and tried to ignore the sensations threatening to overwhelm her. Just another few moments… ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin gasped in shock when he heard what Alayne was saying. Welcoming Kil’jaeden? His glory? Harvest? Had she gone mad again? Had something pushed her to believe that the world must be destroyed? Had she succumbed to the fel energies upon which she based her magic with the Sunwell gone?

Even though he had known for weeks that she had joined with Kael’thas, that she had worked alongside the man to ramp up production of the manaforges, and that she had become one of his most trusted, dependable underlings, Ger’alin had not really believed she could have turned so far. Now, seeing her wreathed in the golden glow of spell casting tinged with

406

the shadow of damnable fel magic, he began to worry. Had she turned? Was she truly his enemy?

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “Alayne, you can’t do this!”

Her head lifted and her ears twitched backwards. Something about the set of her shoulders told him she had heard him but could not place the voice. “Dearest, stop this!” he shouted. A shock ran through her body as she began to turn, ever so slowly.

“That’s…impossible,” she whispered to herself, wondering if she truly wanted to turn around and see what she feared lurked behind her. Her husband’s wan and wasted face floated before her vision as she turned. Had his hunger driven him here, to the heart of their people’s hope? “I…if you have any care for your life, leave!” she shouted, too fearful to turn her head and meet anyone’s gaze. It couldn’t be Ger’alin. It couldn’t be. He was back in Shattrath, hopefully under lock and key, suspected of being part of a conspiracy to overthrow the Scryers and Aldor. His wardens would tend him carefully, though. She knew that much.

No, it could not be him behind her. It just could. Not. Be. “Alayne! Stop this now!” he cried. Involuntarily, she whirled around, her back to the portal and stared in stupefaction. Ger’alin was there. Hale and hearty as he had been before he’d set foot in the Black Temple. He stood before her and she winced, seeing that the skin of his face glowed from burns and that his hair was singed short. Still, he stood there, grinning hungrily at her, his eyes drinking in the first sight he’d had of her the way a man crossing a desert would guzzle down water. She stood there, her jaw dropping and her shoulders slumping. His gaze changed from eager to worried.

“For nothing,” she thought to herself. “I…I betrayed everyone, I turned them against me, I set this in motion…and it was for nothing. I was wrong! He didn’t need my help to get well! I…Light help me, I’ve opened a gateway for the Legion and it’s been for naught! It wasn’t necessary!”

“Alayne, sweetheart, what…Zerith! No, get back!” Ger’alin shouted, his fears catching up with him.

Zerith had rushed forward hearing Ger’alin speaking to Alayne. He was just as shocked as her husband was to see her actually opening the way for the Legion with his own eyes. He could feel his heart starting to break and the tears stinging his eyes as he stared at her, silently pleading with her to explain. “Alayne,” he started to say, taking a step into the room. Ger’alin raised an arm to bar him and he stared at the man.

“You will not…,” Ger’alin started to say.

“The Master’s arrival will not be delayed! Return to your summoning, peasant!” one of the eredar sorcerers ordered peremptorily. Alayne looked at them dumbly, as if she no longer understood their speech. “Return to your station!” it roared. “Return or die!”

Alayne’s eyes began to spark in hard, brittle anger. This thing would dare order her like that? Was it not enough that she had painted herself to look like the ultimate traitor to all sides, that she had done her best to convince everyone she had loved to hate her? This thing… “No,” she said softly. “It is ended.” Lifting her hands, she began to weave the magic that would rip the heart out of the spell. The backlash alone would probably kill her. She no longer cared. All of her suffering had been in vain. Another agency had healed Ger’alin and she had probably ruined any chance she would ever have at making things right again with her decision to aid Kael in return for restoring what she had believed to be her people’s only hope.

“It is not!” the sorcerer shouted, lifting a hand and pointing at the nearest target behind her. Ger’alin stiffened, feeling the demon’s attempt to control his will wash through him. He resisted it, latching on to his hope in the Light and his love for the woman standing before him to keep from being swept away by the demon’s magic. The eredar recoiled, feeling his spell break down and selected a new target.

407

Zerith’s eyes widened as he felt his body being wrested away from his own control.

Panicking, he stared at Ger’alin, wondering how the other man had resisted the spell.

Focusing his mind on regaining control of his limbs, Zerith fought to re-establish control he should never have lost. Ger’alin wrapped his arms around the priest’s waist as if to keep him from taking another step into the room.

Meanwhile, in front of the golden pool that housed the greatest darkness in the universe, Alayne was screaming in agony as bands of dark energies wrapped around her, strangling the life out of her as her husband had once attempted to do. Ger’alin was torn; if he let go of Zerith, his worst nightmares might come true. If he didn’t let go of the man, Alayne might die right in front of his eyes despite everything he’d done to try to prevent it. Her painfilled, ear-splitting shrieks were as terrible to hear as the trembling Zerith was experiencing as his unwilling body was being pulled out of Ger’alin’s grasp was to feel. Sweat trickled down the fighter’s face as he weighed the choices before him. Either way could lead to certain death. “Dammit, not now! Not when I was so close!” he groaned between gritted teeth. “Argh!” he shouted as, with all of his strength, he threw Zerith back behind him and dashed into the room, hoping to be able to disrupt the sorcerers’ and spare his wife and one of his best friends.

Two of the sorcerers appeared to focus all of their attentions on Alayne while the last continued ordering the priest to step closer against his will. Zerith shivered and sweated as he fought futilely against the spell. Ger’alin screamed and gestured, enraged and terrified beyond the ability to speak, praying that the other fighters would understand what he wanted them to do. Tau’re seemed to catch on first, sprinting into the room and slashing at one of the eredar holding Alayne in his deadly magic.

The other elven Magisters, the ones who had been helping Alayne with her work with the portal, struggled to hold the rift steady. They looked to her for their cues in absence of another leader but she was caught up in the throes of the demon’s fatal weavings. With all of their might, they held it steady, knowing that to let it collapse would mean death for everyone nearby – perhaps everyone in Quel’Thalas.

One of the eredar sorcerers went down, his body making the room quake as it crashed down. Alayne’s shrieks grew less intense and took on more of a whimpering tone as Ger’alin looked around desperately for the other demon mage. Zerith was still struggling against the magic forcing him close to his sister but his hand, quivering, was reaching for the mace he had belted at his hip. Alayne’s eyes widened when she saw him coming and she groped for her dagger, hoping to slash at his arm and keep him from killing her. The two eredar remaining laughed, fending off the magic attacks and dancing deftly out of reach of the few fighters left standing.

Ger’alin positioned himself between Alayne and Zerith, the sorcerers and the siblings making a box around him. With a scream of rage and anguish, he reached out and, calling forth the power the naaru had taught him to access, drawing on the hatred he felt for those who would not only destroy life, but would destroy the one life more precious to him than anything else, he flung the holy power on the ground, grinning darkly when the floor of the room began to glow with the radiance of pure, holy power.

The demon casting his spell on Alayne dropped his magic and turned, seeking out the cause of his sudden distress. Ger’alin laughed, a laugh without mirth or hope, and gave the creature a gesture he’d once been spanked for asking his father about. His grin slid from his face when he realized that Zerith was still drawing near, his mace out and raised over his head. The Blood Knight pulled his shield over Alayne, praying that the others would bring the last demon down and break the spell before the mace broke her skull. The worry for his wife caused the power he had channeled into the spell consecrating the floor beneath the eredars’ hooves to weaken ever so slightly and, with a startled yelp, he leapt back to his feet 408

when Alayne, once again wrapped in bands of fel magic, began screaming in his ear. Tears leaked down his face as he sought for a choice that would let him have what he wanted – his wife alive.

“Forgive me, old friend,” he whispered to Zerith as he reached down and, dropping his own mace, plucked Alayne’s dagger from her belt. The spell wracking her body with torment made his hand jerk when he touched her. How could she stand that agony and stay conscious?

“No no no no no no no no no!” she screamed, flinging her head from side to side, her sweat-soaked hair clinging to her face. “No!” “I…would…never…,” Zerith was saying, his voice tight with strain as he fought not to let the hammer fall. Ger’alin turned the dagger in his hand and tightened his grip on the shield. He would let the priest hammer away at it as long as he could but Alayne couldn’t survive that spell much longer… The Blood Knight grunted as the mace met his shield, ringing soundly. His arm still hurt from the earlier fight with the pit lord. He tightened his grip, shocked to realize that the more he bore down, the more the shield threatened to shatter or fall from his grasp.

“Don’t,” Alayne gasped. “Just…let…me…go.”

“Not on your life,” he grunted.

“Do it!” she ordered coldly through the pain. He planted his feet, ignoring her imperious command.

Alayne knew she didn’t have much time left. The fel magic was no doubt going to kill her. All she hoped was she could hang on long enough to… her eyes widened in shock. How could she have forgotten that? She hadn’t planned on using it until later but…

Ger’alin groaned as he felt the bone in his arm beginning to give way. All of the abuse he had put it through today was catching up with him. Zerith was grunting as well, feeling demonic strength flow through him and wishing there were a way he could master it and turn it against his aggressor. He heard Alayne whisper something that sounded like a prayer.

“Light, punish those who would profane that which is holy,” he thought he heard her say through agonized moans of pain.

The two remaining eredar cried out in shock as the Vials they had been holding, the very Vials they had been using to add power to their spells, exploded in their hands. The sacred water stung them, scalding and searing the flesh of their hands, arms, and chests. The pair tried to fling the water away, dashing it from their skin with mangled hands. So distracted were they by the pain of the burning water that they momentarily let up on their spells. The bands of black magic wrapping around Alayne lessened in power, letting her go from full-throated screams to sobbing whimpers. Zerith could feel control of his limbs returning to him though he still could not move them to his sides. Ger’alin cautiously lowered his shield, the beginnings of a smile forming on his lips. The demon channeling dark energies around Alayne fell to the ground, a bitter death-curse on his lips. Alayne went limp with relief in her husband’s arms and, in his eagerness, he tossed his shield aside and clutched her to his chest, burying his face in her hair and murmuring incoherently.

Tau’re bored in on the last demon still standing, desperate to pull him down. Once this foul creature was dead, it would all be over, or so the tauren thought. Zerith watched the fight out of the corner of his eye, still unable to move by his own will. Ger’alin was lifting his head from Alayne’s hair, tears of joy and thankfulness shining on his face when the demon began to fall towards the ground, overcome.

From her nest in his arms, Alayne saw Zerith’s mace racing to meet Ger’alin’s head.

Summoning a surge of strength, she sprang out of her husband’s embrace and took the blow square on her shoulder. She threw her arms around her brother as he bludgeoned her, 409

shielding him from danger with her own body even as his weapon bounced off her collar bone with a sickening sound. She cried out as she felt the bones of her shoulder crunch together and her right arm go numb.

Ger’alin looked up in horror to see Zerith’s mace land on Alayne’s shoulder before it dropped from his hand. The tears of joy turned to tears of grief as he watched his wife crumble under the blow and watched as Zerith fell atop her, his arms around her and his own sobs choking his apologies. “But…but…I…I was here!” Ger’alin whispered. “I was here!”

“I’m so sorry,” Zerith said over and over again, not wanting to look up, afraid he had killed his sister.

“If you’re sorry, get off my damned arm,” Alayne growled against his chest. “I had this whole thing under control until you showed up. Leave me!”

“You can’t be serious,” Zerith said, horrified, as he pushed himself off her. Dar’ja ran over to see her sister-by-marriage and to comfort her husband. “You…in service to the Legion?”

The entire room went silent. Only the uttered incantations that held the rift open drifted through the air. “I don’t have time to explain,” she said.

“You’d better find it,” Zerith retorted.

“Not here and not now. Get out of here, Zerith. You too, Ger’alin. Pull everyone back. Return to Silvermoon. You should be safe there.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Ger’alin said, pulling her into his lap, not noticing the flash of pain that crossed her features when he clasped her broken arm.

“I don’t have time!” she said quickly, trying to push herself up and find the strength and focus to complete the final phase of the spell. “Get out of here! I can give you an hour at most before it’s all over. Just go! I never wanted you to follow me here anyway!” she shouted, her back to them, her face to the floor, and a sob escaping her lips. “The shield is gone, I can’t contain the blast now. It will wash over the entire island. It will kill everything…including…”

“I am not so easily stopped, wretched mortal!” a deep voice shouted. It sent shivers through everyone in the room, so thick was it with malice and anger.

“Anveena, help me!” Alayne shouted, looking up to the woman shielded and floating high above the summoning space. Drawing on the attunement she shared with the woman who held the power of the Sunwell in her human form, Alayne tried to block the rift, to buy time for everyone to make good their escape. She groaned as she saw Kil’jaeden’s clawed fist reaching through the gateway and battering against the magical wall she’d thrown up to stop him. “Get out of here now!”

“Form a perimeter around the room,” Ger’alin ordered quickly. “Backs to the wall. If you’re a follower of the Light, say your prayers now. If you follow another power, reach out to it. Prepare for battle.”

“Get out of here!”

“Alayne, back to the wall,” he said firmly. “We all want answers and you can’t give them if you’re dead. For once in your life, obey me!”

“But…” “Against the wall!”

Alayne hurried back, placing herself against the far wall. “Obey him as you would me,” she commanded the Magisters. “Do it or I’ll kill you myself.”

The Magisters glared at her and continued their work around the pool. Alayne clenched her teeth and nodded at Ger’alin. He grabbed them and propelled them across the room, positioning himself just beside where the mighty demonic fist would land when his wife dropped the wall blocking it. He relaxed a little, knowing that this would not be as it had

410

been in his dreams. Still, looking up at the hand of one of the most powerful destructive forces in existence made his stomach clench and his bowels quiver.

Alayne released the magical block and drew deeply on the power of the Sunwell.

Kil’jaeden’s hand landed mere inches from Ger’alin and his claws dug into the red carpeting, ripping the very stone of the floor as if it were paper, as he pulled himself through the portal.

When his body was halfway through, Alayne summoned all of the power she had and snapped the gateway closed around him, trapping him half-in, half-out of the world he sought to conquer. The demon lord growled angrily, sweeping burning eyes across the room for the one who would dare to prevent his entrance into this world. His gaze fell on Alayne and he grinned, snorting to himself as he prepared to incinerate the foolish mortal where she stood.

“Attack!” Ger’alin screamed when Kil’jaeden seemed almost ready to let loose his spell. He slammed his mace against the demon’s midsection, grunting when the blessed steel hammer bounced off. Kil’jaeden laughed.

“Pathetic mortal.”

The demon focused his gaze on Ger’alin. The fighter fell to his knees, overawed by the demonic presence washing over him. Kil’jaeden laughed and raised his hands to his head, summoning dark energy to blast the annoying pest to a cinder. Bringing the spell down with a flourish, he blinked and growled when Ger’alin still knelt there, a shield of holy power surrounding him. The hold the general of the Burning Legion had had over the paladin was broken; Ger’alin shot him a nasty grin and dove in, pounding away with his shield and hammer, doing anything he could to damage the foul being while dodging the spells and fists.

Pressing in so close prevented Kil’jaeden from doing much to pull off the physical attacks; with the fear broken and desperation rising, spells flew from the edges of the room, hurled with a power and determination the casters had never before felt.

Ignoring the onslaught, knowing that if he could but instill fear and respect for his prowess in these peculiar mortals, he could easily overcome them and pull himself the rest of the way into their world, Kil’jaeden sought out the one who had trapped him. The one who had, admittedly, tricked him. She deserved death at his hands. It had been millennia since anyone had actually surprised him the way she had. He would kill her; he owed her that much.

Alayne trembled and shook as she leaned against the wall, her legs threatening to give out and drop her on the ground. Her eyes met with Kil’jaeden’s and she sucked in a breath, preparing for a blast that would destroy her where she stood. Just as he began summoning the power to him, Ger’alin, seeing where the demon’s gaze had fallen, began a flurry of attack to distract him. The Blood Knight actually succeeded in landing a blow on the Legion lord’s unprotected side, making Kil’jaeden wince in pain and look down. The eredar let his wings unfurl behind him and began flapping them, stirring up mighty gusts of air and pushing the few fighters around him further away. Ger’alin bent at the waist and struggled to stay in close range, his burnt hair streaming out behind him wildly as he lifted his shield up and used it as a windbreak. The demon hefted a fist, raising it over Ger’alin, preparing to squash the man like a gnat.

Alayne drew deeply on the connection she shared with Anveena and hurled the full force of the Sunwell’s power at Kil’jaeden. He roared in pain, his wings closing around him as if to shield him from the blast. Again and again, the warlock drank deeply of the ancient magic that was her people’s birthright, sending bolts of it at the leader of the Legion while the others threw their own missiles and struck with bladed and blunt weapons.

Staggered by the onslaught, Kil’jaeden roared and ripped his wings apart with a snap, sending those who had been hammering away at them in hopes of ripping through the skin and making their way against the beast beneath flying across the room. Alayne strained, hoping she could simply trap the enraged eredar in a shell, forcing him to expend yet more 411

energy to attack his attackers and give the others a chance to either run away or run for reinforcements. The battle had to end one way or another soon. She didn’t think she – or anyone else, for that matter – had the strength to keep up the intense assault much longer.

The demon must have sensed her plan for he reached up and casually, with a power that astounded the warlock, blocked her access to the Sunwell’s energies. “Feeble child!” he laughed, “did you think that I would not remember that power? That the millennia since your ancestors first failure would cause that to fade from my mind? Now you have nothing! See in this your doom!”

Mir’el stepped forward from where he had been cowering against the wall, too terrified to even cast the simplest of spells. When he had sensed the spell his former student and the daughter of his closest friends was attempting, he had stirred himself, forcing his legs to hold him and strode forward into the room. Part of him had prayed that she would be able to pull it off. It was a daring move – one only someone so young would have had the audacity to try – but it could have worked. Feeling the currents that told him the spell had not only been blocked, but that Alayne had been cut off from the one source of arcane power she had access to, forced him to act. Staring up at the demon the way he had stared up at its brother at Mount Hyjal, Mir’el felt his heart skip a beat. Taking hold of his fear firmly, refusing to let it gain a hold on him, he raised his hands and, pulling the nether currents that swarmed around the demonic general into his own body, began the incantation he’d been to stupefied to recall earlier. Kil’jaeden’s attention was centered on Alayne; he did not notice the other warlock moving off to the side and beginning a spell that would put a severe crimp in his plans for the woman and her companions.

Once the demon felt Mir’el’s spell settling against him and sapping his powers, draining the nether energy that was his life’s blood away and turning it against him, fueling his destruction with his own existence, Kil’jaeden shifted his focus. He sought out the warlock who was turning his own power against him. When his gaze landed on Mir’el, the man sighed heavily, feeling his heart thundering against his ribcage. Kil’jaeden snarled and, using the same nether currents Mir’el wove, reached into the man’s very essence, planning to rip it out and fill it with fel powers. Such a useful slave would confuse his enemies long enough for the eredar to kill a few of them and possibly break through the barrier that seemed to be wrapping itself more tightly around his midsection. “Prepare to die, little creature,” he sneered in Eredun.

“I’ve met death in many guises,” Mir’el replied calmly, almost merrily, “but, I must say, you’re the ugliest. Did your mother drop you on your face when you were a baby? Or is that growth you call a nose normal for your kind? Just curious.”

Kil’jaeden blinked. He’d been met with arrogance, with hatred, with awe, and with fear. Never before had the demon encountered…curious contempt? The warlock continued to weave his spells almost carelessly, as if they required no thought or effort. “You spin the nether well,” Kil’jaeden admitted grudgingly. “But you are no match for Kil’jaeden the Deceiver!”

“I rather think I am,” Mir’el said, feigning a recklessness he did not feel. “I nearly bested your brother, Archimonde, a while back. The druids got to him before I could, though.

A pity, really. He was taken down by mere wispy spirits of trees and butterflies. I’d have thought that the master tactician of the Burning Legion would have been a trifle more difficult to kill than a mere locust swarm.”

While the exchange was taking place between warlock and demon, Alayne struggled to regain access to the conduit she’d established between herself and Anveena. “Come on,” she growled, clutching her broken shoulder with her good hand as she stared up towards the ceiling. “This must end soon! It must! What is he doing?” she wondered, seeing Mir’el begin striding up to Kil’jaeden. “This is madness.” The demon and the warlock were conversing as 412

if several dozen magi and fighters were not doing their best to destroy the one while he did his best to destroy them. “What is he doing?!” “…yes, all he managed out of that deal was to set a few flowers on fire, I’m afraid.

All that energy for nothing. The World Tree still stands, albeit a trifle sooty, and the mystical lake beneath it…ah…such delicious power there.”

Kil’jaeden was snarling, great gasps of breath exploding through his nostrils as he continued to casually bat away attackers and ignore the sting of dozens of spells exploding around and on him. His wings were in tatters and his armor dented, offering scanty protection now. Mir’el smiled and, with a wave of his hand, attempted the banishing spell his father had drummed into him. It was a special spell, one his ancestors had devised for use against the more powerful demons left roaming their new homeland in the wake of the Well of Eternity’s destruction. Only the Guardians of Tirisfal and the handful of elven leaders of the Kirin Tor knew of the spell’s existence, let alone the incantation. From her vantage point behind him, Alayne watched in shock and awe as her teacher wove the spell, her respect for him soaring.

For a moment, Kil’jaeden paled, feeling the spell weave into him and begin to force him back out of the plane he half-inhabited. Then, Mir’el misspoke. A single mispronounced syllable caused the spell to begin to fall apart. Hastily, he tried to salvage it, but the more he strove to maintain it, the faster it fell apart.

Ger’alin saw Mir’el’s shoulders slump in defeat and the man’s eyes dull. Not understanding what had been passing between demon and warlock, he threw himself back into the attack, desperate to destroy the demon. Kil’jaeden’s attacks came more furiously now, sending the attackers back to the wall. Each time he slammed into the ground, Ger’alin threw himself back to his feet and rushed in, managing to land another flurry of strikes before he was thrown back anew.

The magic users were dropping like flies from a mixture of exhaustion and pain as the demon deftly turned their spells against him, growing more and more confident even as he took greater wounds. He seemed to know that he could outlast his opponents and, worse to them, they seemed to be realizing the same. Through it all, Ger’alin refused to admit defeat.

When his shield shattered from a crushing blow, he cast it aside, holding his mace in both hands and putting all of the force he could muster into each blow. Zerith began wading into the fray, laying about with his own mace until a blow from Kil’jaeden threw him back, knocking him unconscious when he landed on his arm, breaking the bone through the skin with a sickening crack. Dar’ja rushed in, slashing with her sword, seeking demonic blood for the blood leaking from her husband’s shattered arm. Kil’jaeden roared when her holy-infused blade slashed at his arm, leaving several deep cuts. Soon she joined her husband, laying scant feet away from him, trying to gather her forces for one last strike.

“He’s going to win,” Alayne heard Anveena whisper through the magic-enhanced connection. “He’s going to win and kill you all. I…I might have been glad of that for…”

“Yes,” Alayne sighed. “He’s going to win and we’re all going to die. It’s what we deserve, some of us,” she thought bitterly. “I merit it above all for what I’ve done, not the least what I’ve done to you.”

“I was your heritage and your treasure.”

“You still are.”

“I cannot forgive you for what you’ve done to me.”

“I don’t ask for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.”

“So long as we understand each other,” the Sunwell said mirthlessly. “I will give you what you deserve.” Speaking where the others could hear, a human woman’s voice rang through the room. “Should any of you see him, tell Kalec I’ll miss him terribly.”

Light suffused the room, blinding everyone with its pure intensity. Power surged through Alayne with a sweetness that nearly swept her away in its current. With flagging 413

strength of will, the warlock mastered the torrents flooding through her and, not knowing if she directed the magic or it directed her, began hammering at the general of the Legion, forcing him to fall back through the portal she had opened. Inch by inch he sank, his slow disappearance putting heart back into the disenheartened fighters. Renewing their struggle, they did their best to aid the mighty force that one who had been their own used to push back the very threat she had brought to bear.

At the last, Alayne stood at the edge of the golden pool, the pain in her arm forgotten as she let the Sunwell’s stored-up energy push the demon back. “Kalec,” she thought she heard Anveena gasp as the last of the primal power was spent. The rift was closing swiftly upon itself with Kil’jaeden firmly on the other side. Alayne heaved a sigh of relief, her mind drifting to how she would explain herself and what punishment she could devise for what she had done. Even death did not seem enough of a price for what she had wrought.

“Alayne, I…” Ger’alin started to say, standing next to her and gazing down into the shrinking black portal.

His wife’s eyes widened and he nearly wept when he heard a roar and saw Kil’jaeden’s hand struggling back through the rift, holding it open while it tried to close with him on the other side. “Alayne no!” he shouted when he saw her gather herself and leap into the abyss, her scanty weight slamming into the demon’s chest, throwing him off-balance and pushing him back through the rift. Ger’alin saw the demon swipe at her, his claws leaving bleeding trails. “Dammit no!” he screamed, throwing himself in after her, his hammer raised high above his head as he sank into the Nether.

Mir’el was the first to make it to the pool. By the time he arrived, all that remained was the smooth, golden bottom of what had once been the greatest font of elven magic in history. Of the paladin and the warlock, not a trace remained.

“Miris, forgive me. I set her on this path,” Mir’el said softly, tears trailing down his face. “Tal’ar, she truly had your spirit.” Gazing back around the room, he decided to follow Jez’ral’s advice: care for the living now; weep for the dead later.

414

Chapter Twenty-Three: Rebirth and Redemption

Z

erith sat, his legs hanging over the edge of the now empty pool. His arm still hurt, ghost pains, they told him. He’d suffered a great trauma. The bone had been snapped completely, his arm bending where it had no right to bend.

Sitting at the edge of the pool, he stared down into it, numb.

“The ceremony of remembrance will start in a few hours,” Dar’ja said cautiously. He nodded absently, staring down. How could something so beautiful have held something so malevolent?

“Callie says that…she said that Liadrin told me to tell you there was good news.

They…found something…her and the Aldor…from where M’uru…”

Zerith turned to look at her, his face expressionless, blank, as if he had lost the ability to understand Thalassian. He met his wife’s eyes as if he had never seen her before in his life.

Dar’ja bit back tears; he’d acted like this before, back when Alayne had… “Killing yourself wouldn’t bring either of them back,” she whispered. “Had you been conscious, the four of us going together wouldn’t have done any good.”

“If I had gone through with them, at least I’d be at peace.”

“How can you say that?!”

“What would you give to have your parents back, Dar’ja?”

“I’d give anything,” she answered calmly. “You know that.”

“The Light gave me Valara back. And now, she’s gone again. It was hard enough losing her the first time. It was all I could do to make it through the funeral when she died.

She was the closest thing I had to a soul-mate. In some ways, she and I were closer than you and I. We were so much the same person but so different. She was the only sister I could truly relate to. I loved the others but Valara was… And then the Light gave her back to me.

Alayne was everything Valara had been to me and more. I would daydream, sometimes, about the children she and Ger’alin would have had and how they would have been like the children Valara would have had. Dammit!” he swore, pounding a fist into his knee so hard his leg jumped. “If the Light was just going to take her away again – not once, but twice! – why did the Light send her to me in the first place? And why did she turn on us? What was her game? I knew there, at the end, that she had set something in motion in hopes of gaining something greater than I can imagine. What was it? And why? Why? WHY?” “That question has an answer once you are prepared to hear it, young brother,” an unfamiliar voice said calmly. “Are you not coming to remember her? To say good-bye and wish her spirit well on its journey?”

Zerith turned around to face the speaker. A draenei priest, robed in vestments denoting him as one of the highest clerics of their peculiar order, stood in the doorway.

Compassion shone in his wise eyes. Liadrin stood next to him, the same emotion pouring from her face. Zerith turned back, muttering sourly, and stared at the pool again. Dar’ja stroked his hair, wishing there were something she could do to snap him out of his bitter melancholy. The priest walked over to them both and sat down next to Zerith, staring down into the pool. Dar’ja looked up at him and turned her head, unable to believe what she saw out of the corner of her eye.

415

The surviving members of the Shattered Sun Offensive, along with most of the prisoners they had taken during the battle, not to mention what seemed to be the entire population of sin’dorei in Quel’Thalas, milled down the back of the room and the corridor.

With the mind-twisting magic gone, the outer hallways were more spacious and the artificial walls blocking off the Sunwell from the outer paths had been removed. Hundreds stood around, not whispering, not babbling, but in complete silence. Callie stood at the front, Tau’re’s arm around her shoulders, chewing her lip worriedly. “If you will not come to the ceremony of remembrance, then it will come to you,” the strange draenei said calmly. “No need to move, young brother,” he added. “Come, come all of you. Gather around. See the hidden treasure of our friends, the sin’dorei.”

Dar’ja thought it odd that a draenei would refer to the blood elves as ‘friends.’ She watched as those gathered in the hall and the pathways around the Sunwell walked in, crowding around the pool, those in front sitting so that those in back could see over them.

Only a small space remained around the draenei speaker, Liadrin, and the sorrowing sin’dorei couple. Callie knelt behind Zerith, placing a hand on his shoulder. Tau’re knelt beside her and behind Dar’ja, watching the woman carefully. At length, the draenei stood up and turned to take in the gathering.

“We have come here today to remember those who gave their lives in the fight against the Burning Legion. Many have fallen over the centuries, their blood purchasing for us the freedom under the Light we enjoy. Yet, with each generation, the battle is fought anew. For, as long as there are mortals who possess freedom, the Legion must be fought. No,” he said, raising and finger and turning a full circle so that his gaze seemed to take in the entire crowd, “it is not just those who turn away from the Light and vow service to the Legion who cause this to come about. It is the very nature of Light and life itself to allow this choice to be made.

For, without shadow, we could not see light. Without sorrow, we would not cherish joy.

Many blame the sin’dorei for this recent battle. They are wrong. This battle would have come to this world regardless of what Kael’thas Sunstrider did. Had he remained pure, all that would have changed is the location of this very battle and the names on the list of the lost.

No, Fandral,” the speaker said, glaring and pointing at a tall, haughty night elf, “I speak the truth. Your own priestess, Tyrande, knows it so for I have said the same things to her. You will not lecture your cousins this day as I know you wish for, if you would give that lecture, you must give it to me as well. For my own people brought the very Legion into existence.

And my own people will continue to pour out their blood to stop it.”

Zerith glanced up at that, faintly interested. He was more than tired of hearing how the sin’dorei’s ‘reckless pursuit of power’ had brought this disaster to pass. If he had to hear it again, he thought he might commit murder. How could anyone continue to throw that tired accusation at him after his own beloved adopted sister had…

The tears came then. Rolling out of his eyes like twin waterfalls, they came. Sobs wracked him, hunching him over until his head was between his knees. His feet kicked, drumming against the sides of the basin as his shoulders shook. He could feel Callie’s arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing him while the Forsaken buried her face in his back and wept with him. Dar’ja had one arm over the undead woman’s back and the other around Zerith’s neck, her own face hidden in his hair. The three sat thus, weeping in shared sorrow.

Zerith wished he could reach up and comfort the two women but he was too caught up in his own mourning to be able to lighten theirs.

The draenei continued, kneeling where he had once sat and placing a gentle hand on the young man’s head. “Long ago, my brothers – not by blood, but by oath – turned against me. Seduced by false promises from one called Sargeras, Kil’jaeden was twisted from a noble, caring, loving man into a hideous creature of evil. Not a day passes that I do not pray for him as I prayed for Archimonde. As I pray for all my brethren who were seduced to evil 416

by the promise of power and glory. I know the pain you must suffer, young man. The question of ‘why’ she would turn against all that you both loved. That question has an answer, as did mine. The answers are not the same, though. You must seek them out for yourself. I cannot tell you the whole; I do not know it. But, this I can say. What the elves did here,” he said, raising his voice to be heard clearly even by those in the back of the crowd, “they did to bring about the very thing the Light has promised since time immemorial.

Though the avenues they walked where dark and the paths that led them here brought them all through destruction, they aimed at one goal: redemption.”

Zerith’s head shot up and, hiccoughing, he stared at the strange speaker. He scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeves, blinking and shuddering as he tried to master his weeping. The draenei smiled down at him. “I came here today to give a victory speech. So, I shall give it.

Mortal heroes, your victory here today was foretold long ago. My brother's anguished cry of defeat will echo across the universe, bringing renewed hope to all those who still stand against the Burning Crusade. As the Legion's final defeat draws ever-nearer, stand proud in the knowledge that you have saved worlds without number from the flame. Just as this day marks an ending,” he said softly, smiling sadly at the young sin’dorei priest, “so too does it herald a new beginning. The creature Entropius, whom you were forced to destroy, was once the noble naaru, M'uru. In life, M'uru channeled vast energies of Light and hope. For a time, a misguided few sought to steal those energies,” he trailed off, gesturing to Liadrin. Zerith’s face flushed. How dare this man…

Liadrin cut him off. Standing proudly yet humbly, she confessed, “Our arrogance was unpardonable. We damned one of the noblest beings of all. We may never atone for this sin,” she finished, glancing significantly back at the arrogant night elf the draenei had called Fandral.

“Then fortunate it is, that I have reclaimed the noble naaru's spark from where it fell!

Where faith dwells, hope is never lost, young blood elf,” he said, a sparkle in his eye as he regarded both Liadrin and the young sin’dorei couple crouched at the edge of the pool. A crystal, dark but glowing brightly, appeared in a flash of light over the center of the pool. It sparkled in the early afternoon sunlight, glinting almost happily. “Gaze now, mortals - upon the heart of M’uru! Unblemished. Bathed by the light of Creation - just as it was at the Dawn.

In time, the light and hope held within - will rebirth more than this mere fount of power...

Mayhap, they will rebirth the soul of a nation.”

The crystal began to change, sprinkling down into the golden pool until, with a sudden flash of warm, golden light, the entire pool began to shine once more. Zerith sighed, feeling love, forgiveness, hope, and tranquility wash over him. It annoyed him even while it salved his soul. His sister Valara had died for lack of this feeling. Alayne had sold her soul to regain it. Ger’alin had followed her into damnation for it. And now, just like that, this strange draenei gave them what they had paid for in blood and loss. “Salvation, young one. It waits for us all,” the draenei said softly, for Zerith’s ears alone. While the rest of the crowd was busy staring in awe at the newly reignited Sunwell, the strange draenei made his way through them, leaving them to their wonder.

Zerith watched him go, wishing he could at least place a name to the strange man.

He’d seemed to almost offer the priest a true brotherhood of loss and sorrow when he’d spoken of Kil’jaeden. “We will meet again,” he heard the man’s voice in his mind. “You will return to the City of Light. Take word of today to your brothers on Draenor. Take word of today to A’dal. Tell him Velen will return soon.” Before Zerith could give voice to his gratitude or ask any of the thousands of questions crowding on his tongue, the draenei priest vanished into the crowd. As if on cue, the crowd itself began to disperse, its silence unbroken, leaving the mourners at the edge of the faintly glowing pool. Zerith forced himself to his feet,

417

brushed his robes off, and turned away. As much as he wanted to remain there the rest of his days, he had orders to follow. ~*~*~*~ Mir’el stood in the kitchen, his hair pulled back and his hands covered in flour. The children would be up soon and he intended to have breakfast ready for them when they sat down. He’d already ruined one batch of pancakes. He didn’t want to spoil another. Giving the batter a good stirring, he glanced over and happened to see the syrup. Tears welled in his eyes as he recalled how Jez’ral used to freeze that very syrup in molds and give the results to Alayne when she was teething. “Oh, how could this have happened?” he sighed, setting the mix down and letting his dusty hands grip the counter for support. “She was such a sweet child. I thought there’d be no risk in teaching her. She’d lost her mother and father and the magic. She’d lost so much. When Jez’ral brought her back here, I wanted to replace all of that and let her be a child again. How could it all have gone so wrong?”

“Don’t ask questions that have no answer,” Zerith said softly. “They’ll drive you insane.”

“I didn’t hear you come in, Zerith,” Mir’el said quickly, wiping his cheeks with his flour-coated hands. The priest smiled, tight-lipped, and nodded, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “Breakfast will be ready in a bit. Have a seat.”

“It’s strange being back here,” the young man said as he settled at the long table.

“Have you moved back in here?”

“Not entirely. I just got tired of my apartments in Murder Row being so empty. I took the liberty of doing a little house-sitting for you while you were gone.”

“Speaking of which, how much rent do I owe you?”

“None.”

“Oh please, you…”

“Zerith, my father left me with enough wealth to last me a lifetime even if I never lifted a finger to support myself. You need not add to that. I’d rather you kept your money and used it to spoil your own children rotten when they arrive.”

“Must we have this discussion every time the bill comes due?”

“It seems so.”

“I don’t know that I’ll ever have children,” Zerith said suddenly. “I know I’ve got the better part of a century to think it over but…”

“Don’t make decisions based on grief,” Mir’el counseled. “Too many times I made that mistake and only Jez’ral and Miris could snap me out of it. Once, I almost killed myself – and Jez’ral – in Zul-Lightforsaken-Aman because I made a decision in grief. Another time, I almost killed my own father with my own hands. Right now, I’d love nothing more than to brew up a concoction that would possibly…speed up certain processes…” he said, lifting his eyebrows and glancing at the kitchen door, “so that you could drown me in a bevy of little ones that I could spoil rotten. But, I won’t do it. It wouldn’t be right and it’s not the right time. And now is not the time for you to make any kind of life-altering decisions. Trust me, Zerith. I know you must hate hearing it but I am your senior by quite a margin. The pain will pass. It will take forever and, until you die, part of it will live in your soul. But, the day will come when you can remember her without…”

“That’s just it!” Zerith exploded, pounding his fists on the table. “Why did she do this? Why did she turn to the Legion? And then why did she turn against them at the end?

What was going through her mind?”

“A wise man once advised me not to ask questions that don’t have answers. Perhaps you should heed that as well.”

418

The men stood in silence for a moment until Mir’el turned back and finished mixing the batter. Pouring it off into the pans he had ready, he sighed and, gesturing with the spatula, decided to change the subject. “What happened to Jez’ral? Why wasn’t he here?”

“He was…hurt. Several weeks ago, now. We attacked Magtheridon in order to break the blood-curse on several of the orc clans in Outland. Illidan had tainted them with demon blood again. I don’t know exactly what it was he did, but I think he was trying to control Magtheridon and keep him docile while we killed the demon.”

“That sounds like Jez’ral,” Mir’el sighed. “He’d berate me up one side and down the other for pulling anything like that and yet he’ll ignore my expertise in this area and do the very thing I’ve warned him not to attempt under any circumstances. What was the result?”

“He lost his memory. It has been returning, though. That’s actually what touched off this whole mess. Apparently, he had a Vial of water from the Well of Eternity. Yeah,” Zerith laughed when Mir’el dropped the spatula, “I was surprised too. We were off in Nagrand when it started. Riots and accusations. The naaru took charge of it, giving it to Voren’thal to guard.”

“That was a wise decision. I love Jez’ral but he’s nowhere near ready to handle something that powerful. Neither am I.” “At any rate, everything after that has led us to where we are now. And I don’t mind saying that I’d give anything to go back and change things. We should never have gone against Illidan Stormrage!” Zerith growled, slamming his fists into the table. “Alayne and Ger’alin would still be alive, would be sitting here laughing, if we hadn’t! If only I had listened to her! She’d still be alive!” he sobbed. Slamming his face onto the table, he covered his head with his arms and wept. “This is my fault!”

“Now, now,” Mir’el said, shaken. These children had gone up against Illidan Stormrage? And survived? “I’m sure that you did whatever you felt you had to do. I’m sure that there were good reasons for the choices you made. And, I’m certain that had you it to do all over again, you’d do no differently. You can’t blame yourself for not foreseeing the future, Zerith. If you could foretell it, you would go mad. And, perhaps had you done things differently, she would only have died sooner or more horrifically.”

“To be pulled into the Twisting Nether isn’t bad enough?” he sobbed. “When I let myself think about what her last moments must have been like…”

“Her last moments were spent with her friend…” “…husband…” “…so she was married?” the warlock asked, a sad but shining expression of happiness on his face. “I’m glad. She spent her last moments with him, Zerith. If you have to go, there’s no better way to go than with the one you love most there by your side. I believe that can cancel out just about any kind of terror the universe can throw at you. Now, here,” he said, thrusting a dishrag at the priest. “Wipe your face. Let’s go wake the others up and have breakfast. I want you to tell me about Outland and this Shattrath. I intend to go with you when you return there.”

“I’m not planning on going back,” Zerith grumbled. “I don’t think I could stand it.”

“That’s odd,” Mir’el said, looking surprised. “A messenger came by earlier, while you still slept, and said that you were expected in Shattrath within the week. He also left this note for you.” Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to the priest. Zerith broke the seal, not recognizing it, and sucked in a breath as he read the spidery writing.

Zerith, We did not have much time to get to know each other when first we met in Shadowmoon Valley. You will remember me as Mordenai, a hunter. In truth, I am a member

419

of the nether dragonflight. The sin’dorei hunter is merely a guise I wear to allow me to pass among mortals without causing a riot.

Not only am I a nether dragon, I’m the very nether dragon who attacked Shattrath with your sister. By the time you receive this message, I will be gone, having returned there to turn myself in for justice. However, I could not leave Quel’Thalas without letting you know that Alayne loved you with all of her heart. She did not serve Kael’thas or the Legion out of any misplaced since of loyalty, fear, or lust for power. She did it only to bring back the Sunwell so that her husband could be healed of his grievous illness. I know that you have no reason to believe me beyond wanting to, but I speak the truth. Akama of the Broken, leader of the Ashtongue Deathsworn, can vouch for my veracity. Alayne told him of her plans before she set them in motion. However, not all has come to pass as she desired. She did not want you – or anyone from Shattrath – to follow her. She did her best to put you off her trail using magic siphoned from the great manaforges. But still, you followed after her. I don’t understand why myself. Her plan was to have all of you arrested and held in Shattrath until after she could trick Kael’thas into giving her access and power to reignite the Sunwell using the Vials of water from the Well of Eternity. She did have several contingency plans laid out in case the Legion actually made landfall. I suppose that she put one of them into play and it cost her her life.

Your sister was a woman of rare honor. You may be proud of her.

Mordenai P.S. – While I do plan to return to Shattrath and turn myself in, I will be making a detour to Tempest Keep. Your sister kept a journal. I can only pray that she outlined her true thoughts and plans in them. I know that you must desire having her named cleared. Alayne actually wanted you to damn her, to hate her. She thought that anger would give you the strength to heal from her betrayal. However, knowing that she is gone now…were I her brother, I would want her name cleared and remembered in song.

“I don’t know whether I want to dance for joy or scream in sorrow,” Zerith said flatly.

“This is worse than thinking she had betrayed me – betrayed us.”

“What is it?” Mir’el asked.

“Hurry up with breakfast, would you?” Zerith said briskly. “I’ll go wake the others.

We’re leaving for Outland in an hour.” ~*~*~*~ Zerith gritted his teeth as they approached the Black Temple. Since passing beside Shattrath, Mir’el had been beside himself with wanting to go to that city and be reunited with Jez’ral. It took all of the priest’s patience to remind himself that had he been parted for Dar’ja for so long and had he just found out she’d been injured and ill, he would want nothing to stand in the way of his being at her side. Still, the warlock’s palpable impatience irritated the priest. He already did not look forward to returning to the place where everything had begun to go wrong but he had to speak with Akama. He had to know what was going on and why the man had not told him.

Dismounting at the base of the steps leading up to the doors, Zerith sighed in relief.

The Black Temple no longer deserved that appellation. Renovations must have started the day after Illidan died. The cloaked statues had been removed, replaced with statues of orc shaman, draenei priests, and heroes of both races. The priest paused before one statue that reminded him of the man who had spoken at the Sunwell. Glancing at the foot, he could see the name “Velen” carved into the stone.

420

Walking through the Temple, nodding politely but swiftly to those he passed, Zerith sought out Akama. He found the Broken in one of the gardens, up to his knobby knees in muck as he dug in the dirt, planting flowers. “I would like a word with you, Akama,” Zerith said coldly in a tone that brooked no argument. “Now.” The Broken shoved the hand shovel he’d been digging with into the freshly turned earth and stood up. Dusting his dirty hands on the apron hanging from his neck, he gestured for the priest to walk ahead of him, indicating that Zerith should enter one of the empty studies off of the main hallway. Akama walked in behind him quickly and turned, blocking the others from entering. “Oh no,” Zerith growled. “They deserve to hear the truth too. I almost wish I could have Garrosh and Mor’ghor here as well. The more I think about what Mordenai told me, the more I want to have it out with all of you before I retire to some quiet, remote corner of the world where I never have to see another person again!”

Akama blinked and nodded. Stepping to the side, he let the other two sin’dorei and the grief-stricken Forsaken into the room. “What is it you would have me say to you?” the Broken asked in his gravelly voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That Alayne was planning to run away and join Kael’thas. That she was trying to find a cure for Ger’alin. That you knew these things. Why did you not tell me and why did you continue to treat her like filth if you knew she was trying to make up for her mistake?”

Akama sighed and stared off in the distance, gathering his thoughts. “I said nothing and treated her that way because she asked that of me. She laid out her plan to me, telling me in strictest confidence that it required that she be hated. She couldn’t let you in on it because you would have tried to stop her. As it was, you did try. But, at least you were trying because you feared she might have turned against you. She intended for you to believe she had. She said the rage would help you get over the loss quicker. But she…”

“Enough,” Zerith said, tears of anger blinding him. “So, Mordenai spoke the truth.

She intended for her name to be reviled and hated through all the rest of time while she worked to restore our people’s hope of survival. And you, a priest of the Light, sworn to uphold truth, you lied and would have let her memory be spat upon! Why, Akama? So you could have your damned Temple back? The Temple she helped to return to you? Is that all that mattered to you? To the orcs? That we came here and cleaned up the messes you couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“The lady swore me to secrecy until such a time as it could not matter,” Akama said calmly. “I will overlook your words today, Zerith, for they are flung while the hurt is still fresh. Still, if she were to find out…”

“She’s dead,” Zerith spat. “Ger’alin is too.”

“When? How?” Akama asked, aghast.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you when the omens are more favorable,” Zerith snarled, storming out of the Temple. “I suppose you’ll be in Shattrath for the trials. I’ll see you there. Your actions on her behalf when she’s put on trial posthumously will speak the volumes they haven’t already. I’m done with you,” he said quietly. “I’m done with all of this. Come on,” he gestured to his companions, “I need to deliver the same message to Shattrath and to Garrosh and then we’ll find a quiet corner or the universe to call our own.” ~*~*~*~ Jez’ral paced up and down one of the bridges leading from Terokkar into Shattrath.

He’d done this every day for over a week since word came of the Legion’s defeat at Quel’Danas. Soon, Zerith and the others would be back and they could finally all go settle 421

down like Alayne and Ger’alin had wanted. He’d even sent a very confused but very sincere note to the man he recalled as Mir’el explaining what little he could and begging him to join him in Outland and help him regain what he’d lost. He thought he’d seen them pass by earlier only, instead of taking the branch into the city, they had headed towards Shadowmoon Valley. Jez’ral wondered what business they would have had there. Schooling himself to patience, he sat at the foot of the bridge. His nervous energy would not allow him to sit still for long and he found himself pacing restlessly again.

Un-noticed by the warlock, his steps were shadowed. Sar’la giggled to herself quietly as she adopted the serious demeanor on the warlock’s face, her small strides matching his a pace behind him. When he turned around, he nearly tripped over her. “This is becoming a tradition,” he laughed when he regained his balance. “What are you doing out of Lower City, Sar’la?”

“I wanted to see if you were going to come to the party,” she said happily. “Everyone will be there.”

“Of course I’m coming to the party!” he laughed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“I hope that everyone who went to Quel’Danas will be coming back,” she said seriously. “I want to see them all again. Do you think they’ll stay out here? Or would they all go back home?”

“I don’t know,” Jez’ral replied, considering his words with care. “Some will probably go back home. They were fighting to protect their homes. Others, like me, don’t really have much to go back to. So, some will be staying out here.”

“I wish everyone would stay out here. I don’t want them to leave me.”

“They wouldn’t be leaving you,” he protested, “merely going back to other people who want to see them like you do. You can’t have everything you want in life, Sar’la. Things and people will change. If you can’t accept that and change with the times, you’ll never be happy.”

“That sounds like what Matron tells us,” the little girl sighed irritably. “That one day we’ll understand and have prospective.”

“Perspective.”

“Whatever. What is that anyway?”

“Something I don’t think I could explain to you if I wanted. You have to have it to understand it,” he grinned, amused at her annoyance.

“I can come stay with you sometimes, right?” she asked after a lengthy pause. By now, Jez’ral had been forced to sit down. The days of nervous pacing and the excitement he couldn’t help but feel at the thought that everyone would be back today were taking their toll.

“Of course you can. I know I’d like to have you around. You remind me of Miss Alayne when she was your age.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said gravely. “She was just as curious and excited about learning things as you are. She was just as fast to pick them up as you are, too. And, I think the others would like having you around too. Sometimes it gets a bit boring with nothing but grown-ups around,” he confided.

“But you guys talk about all kinds of interesting stuff.”

“It’s interesting to you because you lack perspective,” he teased. “I’m kidding, Sar’la. One day, you’ll understand more of the things we talk about. And, I promise you that I will come visit you as much as I can. Maybe I’ll even start teaching you and the other children about magic. I need to relearn a bit of it myself so we can all learn together.”

“That sounds like fun,” she said, sounding sleepy. The hour had grown late. It had been mid-afternoon when Jez’ral thought he’d glimpsed Zerith, Dar’ja, and Callie passing by the city. Evening was setting on and it was past time for Sar’la to be back at the orphanage 422

and getting ready for bed. The warlock berated himself for letting her sit there with him so long. No doubt she had missed supper. He didn’t fancy having to deal with her adopted big brother should the man find out he’d let that lapse.

Wadding his cloak up, he set it next to him and gently pushed the tired child back.

She was already half-asleep and, by the time she’d settled in, snuggling on his cloak, she was out. He stood up, feeling sleepy himself but not wanting to abandon his position on the bridge. As the light of evening began to wane, he sighed and prepared to pick the child up and carry her down to the orphanage before returning to his room on the Scryer’s tier. He must have been mistaken. That wasn’t Zerith at all. His own hopes had just caused him to see the man where he wasn’t. Disappointment welled up in him but he quashed it and bent down to lift the girl into his arms.

“Ho the bridge!” he heard a painfully familiar voice shout. Straightening, he smiled and began running. Zerith and Dar’ja sat atop their mounts, neither looking very happy.

Callie was grinning manically. His heart skipped a beat and his pulse began racing when he found himself standing in front of Mir’el.

“Remember me, old friend?” Mir’el asked, his eyes sparkling. “Remember the boat?”

Jez’ral affected not to understand, putting on his most befuddled expression.

“What about Dalaran?”

It was all Jez’ral could do not to break into laughter.

“Oh, come on, you have to remember something,” Mir’el said, his expression falling into despair. “Miris? Tal’ar? Alayne? The fight we had just before the Battle of Mount Hyjal over the very thing you did out here, you damned fool?”

“No,” Jez’ral said slowly, “I’m afraid I don’t remember you nearly drowning me in the middle of Lake Elrendar. I also don’t remember you and me nearly causing a diplomatic incident when we started a duel in The Good Knight’s Sleep over which of us would marry Miris in order to fulfill that silly contract. Nor do I remember helping you set up the portal that let her and Tal’ar sneak out of Silvermoon so they could elope once we found out he was head over heels in love with her. And lastly, no, I don’t remember not being able to blink for three solid weeks because you didn’t bother to pay attention to your father’s lessons on plant lore!”

“Oh, good,” Mir’el grinned, “so you don’t recall all the stuff that makes me look stupid. I’ve always wanted a fresh start.”

“Oh shut up, idiot,” Jez’ral laughed, throwing his arms around the man. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’ve changed.”

“I gather that losing your memory tends to do that,” Jez’ral said dryly. “Now, come on. It’s too late for us to go home so we’ll stay here tonight and ride over tomorrow. A’dal says that he wants to speak with you, Zerith. And Voren’thal and the others of course want to offer you congratulations on a job well done. Is it true that the Sunwell has been restored?” he asked quickly. “I thought I sensed a change in the very center of my being, as if a hole had been filled.”

“It’s been restored,” Zerith said flatly. “The price was far too high. May the Nether take the Sunwell. I hate it!”

“What’s the matter with him?” Jez’ral asked Mir’el as Zerith, Dar’ja, and the nowunhappy looking Callie rode on into the city. The warlock paused to pick up the orphan and grinned at Mir’el. “It’s past her bedtime. I want to hear everything. They stuck me off here looking after the little ones as if I were already in my dotage.”

“The Sunwell shines again but its light came at the price of blood. Alayne and Ger’alin were lost. Alayne had actually summoned him and no one seems to know what game

423

she was playing at doing that. Akama and Mordenai say she was after restoration. But…to take that high a risk?”

“Think like a youth again,” Jez’ral said, his voice suddenly toneless. “When you think you’re twelve feet tall and immortal, you’ll do stupid things.”

“Like taking a shortcut through Zul-Lightforsaken-Aman?”

“Yes. I guess we won’t be moving in, then,” he sighed glumly. “And after she asked me to bring those carpets over. Is that why you went to Shadowmoon Valley the long way instead of coming through here?”

“What are you talking about, Jez’ral?”

“I guess the druids couldn’t help it. I’ll try not to blame them. Though, if that Var’thanos gets on my back again, I’m going to break his jaw.”

“I’m confused,” Mir’el said helplessly.

“We’ll go over and clear things out tomorrow, old friend,” Jez’ral said, reaching up to pat his knee. “For now, let’s get this one back where she belongs and then go have supper and get caught up. Light, I don’t look forward to tomorrow. I would have thought, though, that Garrosh would have had the decency to tell me himself!”

“I’m really confused.”

“Welcome to my world.” ~*~*~*~ “Fair warning, A’dal,” Zerith said loudly as he strode into the building housing the naaru. “I’m in no mood for anything other than straight speech. If you hand me so much as even the simplest of mysteries, I’m out of here.”

“Be at peace, brother in the Light.”

“I wish I were at peace. Eternal peace. Jez’ral told me you wanted to speak with me.

I’m here.”

“Calm yourself, Zerith. These are days of celebration. Take stock and take rest from your battles.”

“Right. Have a nice life, A’dal,” the priest growled, turning on his heel.

Zerith felt his feet sticking to the floor. “You are upset about something,” A’dal rang calmly. “You have been through much lately. Perhaps, in my eagerness to offer my congratulations to you and your followers, I overlooked the differences in how your kind and mine deal with such events. Return to your quarters on the Scryer’s tier. Come back to me tomorrow when you have rested and we will begin again.”

“I don’t think so, A’dal,” Zerith replied. “Once you let go of me, I’m out of here.”

“You won’t even stay for the trials? After giving your word?”

“That was low,” Zerith growled. “Fine, I’ll stay for the trials and then I’m out of here.”

“Zerith, what on earth is bothering you?” Thalodien asked as the priest, now freed of the spell binding him, stormed out of the building.

“That you even have to ask me that question makes me want to tear my hair out and strangle you with it. Good night, Thalodien. It’s far past my bedtime. That’s why I’m so cranky.”

“What is his problem?” Thalodien asked Callie, catching her by the arm before she could hurry after her friends. “Did something happen over in Nagrand? Is that what took you so long to get here?”

“What are you talking about?” the rogue asked, jerking her arm out of the sin’dorei’s grip. “We were in Silvermoon. We came as soon as we could.”

424

“Silvermoon? What on earth were you doing still there? We thought you’d come through the…oh, I see,” Thalodien said, understanding dawning. “I’ll talk with A’dal. You will want to visit Garrosh and Geyah tomorrow as soon as you’re up.”

“I can’t imagine Zerith will want to speak with Garrosh,” Callie said, confused. “He had it out with Akama earlier. I think he’d probably tear Garrosh and Mor’ghor a new one if he got close to them.”

“Just…just go over there tomorrow morning. Trust me, it will put him in a much better humor.” ~*~*~*~ The sun shone through the trees, casting cool emerald shade upon the house. A little fence, hip-high for an adult but impossibly tall for a child, marked the perimeter of the garden. The flowers were in full bloom, their sweet scent wafting across the gentle breeze.

Zerith smiled happily, knowing he was home. Garrosh had kept his word. He must have had his son Grommash out there bringing talbuk meat to the sequestered sin’dorei every day. The smell of roasting food mixed with the flowers, making the priest’s mouth water.

“Uncle Zerith,” a young woman said, springing up from her spot by the lake. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you again, too, Sar’la. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Uncle Ger’alin was giving me sword lessons,” the orphan laughed. “Uncle Ben’lir and I will be traveling back to Silvermoon next week. He says I’m ready to join the guard force.”

The name Ben’lir tickled something in the back of the priest’s mind and he wanted to correct the young woman. Ger’alin and Alayne were long dead. But, for some reason, he found himself laughing and agreeing that the orphan was ready to join the guard force.

“I shouldn’t keep you out here long,” Sar’la grinned. “Aunt Dar’ja and Aunt Alayne have been plotting to kill you since just after you left. It seems that Ren’mar got it into his head to study herb lore – without telling them – and…”

“If my son brought home a load of itchweed and they didn’t recognize it…”

“Worse. Black caps. And then proceeded to study cooking without telling anyone.

The spaghetti that night was something to remember, I gather.”

“Oh Light! Poor boy. I did the exact same thing when I was his age.”

“Yes, well, Uncle Ger’alin hung him out to dry over that. You know how protective he’s become of Aunt Alayne. I don’t see how she puts up with it.”

“She’s too tired to get annoyed.”

“It really wears you out, doesn’t it? I don’t see why women go through that.”

“If they didn’t, we’d run out of sin’dorei before very long,” Zerith laughed. “That’s why men get so protective of women in that state.”

“You’re not about to start the ‘facts of life’ talk with me, are you? Matron did that when I was fourteen and I’ve still not recovered. She was so embarrassed, though, when Uncle Ben’lir explained things to her. Poor woman. Light bless her soul and guard her in the hereafter.”

“I’ll spare you the gory details, then. I’d better get in there and remind Dar’ja why she didn’t kill me and Ren’mar the day she recovered from having him. I might need to pry Ger’alin from Alayne as well. She’s probably ready to punch him by now.”

Hugging the orphan they’d adopted and been adopted by, Zerith hurried into the house. He smiled at his son, seeing the boy seated next to the ancient Forsaken. Callie waved at the priest and then lowered her head again, obviously passing on some bit of arcane pranklore to the boy. Zerith made a mental note to keep an eye on him and warn him not to play 425

pranks on Alayne right now. Ren’mar was a sweet child who loved to laugh and make others laugh. Still, at age seven, he didn’t really have a good grasp on appropriateness or timing.

“Welcome back,” Dar’ja said when she stepped into the living room and saw him setting his things down. “He’s been a complete nightmare since you left,” she teased. “I thought about selling him to the goblins.”

“I have not, Mom!” Ren’mar protested. “I’ve been good. I even planted some new flowers. And, I did all my chores without having to be asked twice.”

“He did that,” Dar’ja admitted. “How is everything back in Lordaeron? You were gone longer than I expected.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Zerith said. “It’s complicated. For now, I want to peek in on Alayne and then wash up for some of this ‘memorable spaghetti’ I’ve heard so much about.”

Dar’ja turned green. “Ger’alin is not going to be amused at the thought of having to dig another set of pits so soon. The poor man was sicker than any of us and yet he insisted on digging new trenches.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Worse. He’s grounded until he has grandchildren.”

“He didn’t mean any harm, Dar’ja.”

“That’s not from me; that’s from Ger’alin.”

“Then I’d better to talk with them.”

Zerith hugged Dar’ja and gave her a quick kiss of welcome before ducking further into the house he shared with his extended family. Passing by Mir’el and Jez’ral’s lab, he wondered what new experiment they were up to and decided to satisfy his curiosity later.

Poking his head into the area his sister and her husband had claimed as their own, he saw that it was empty. Part of him wasn’t surprised; had they not been dead long years now? But then, why did he keep thinking that?

“How are you feeling?” he heard Ger’alin asking.

“Fine. Just as I was five minutes ago when you asked. Just as I will be when you ask again five minutes from now,” he heard Alayne reply, her tone much too patient. She sounded exactly like Dar’ja had when she was heavy with Ren’mar.

“Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

“If I have another glass of water, you’re going to have to dig new toilets. Again.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes. Quit pestering me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“You two sound exactly like Dar’ja and I did,” Zerith laughed.

“Zerith!” the both exclaimed happily. “I am so glad you’re here,” Ger’alin continued in a rush. “I feel like a complete moron. What am I doing wrong to have her so annoyed at me all the time?”

“Excuse me,” Alayne said peevishly, “I’m sitting right here.”

“Breathing,” Zerith replied. “She’s going to be annoyed with you for about the next twenty years. Welcome to fatherhood, Dad.” ~*~*~*~ “Zerith, sweetheart, what’s the matter?” Dar’ja asked thickly when she woke up to her husband sobbing next to her. “Tell me.”

“It was just a dream,” he wept brokenly. “It was just a dream.”

426

~*~*~*~ “If I never see Garrosh again, it will be a day too soon,” Zerith sneered over breakfast the next morning. After the dream he’d had last night, the last thing he wanted to do was have a sight of the house. He felt as if his heart might break into pieces if he had to look at it and see it knowing that Alayne and Ger’alin, he and Dar’ja, would never live there together.

Would never raise their children there together. “And what is it with everyone treating me as if there’s a surprise party planned? I can’t wait to be away from here! I hate them all!

Alayne’s dead, Ger’alin’s dead, and all they can do is smile behind their hands at me and tell me to go talk to Garrosh? Nether take them all!”

“Don’t snap at me, Zerith,” Callie retorted. “I’m just telling you what I was told.”

“I’m sorry, Callie,” he apologized.

“It’s okay.”

“He was like this when she vanished and we thought she was dead,” Dar’ja whispered to the Forsaken. “Snapping at everyone. Couldn’t stand to see anyone happy. I nearly walked out on him a few times. Give him time. In a few months, he’ll be better.”

The Forsaken nodded dully and fiddled with the food on her plate. She didn’t feel up to forcing herself to eat. Zerith, seeing how upset she was, relented and patted her hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t get much sleep last night. Haunted by ghosts of a future that will never come to pass, now.”

“Forgiven,” she smiled through tears. “Let’s just get this over with. We’ll go see what Garrosh wants, say good-bye to Geyah, show Mir’el the house, and then…we’ll ask one of the Mag’har to send word to us when the trials are starting. We can ramble around Nagrand for a while. It’s a pretty place. Maybe it will help.”

“What I need to do,” Zerith sighed, “is say good-bye. I’m not going to be fit to live with until I do.”

“Then let’s go say good-bye,” Callie whispered. ~*~*~*~ The five had skirted around Garadar, taking off the road to wrap around south of the orcish village. Zerith steadfastly ignored the hails from the Mag’har guards. He knew Garrosh and Geyah both wanted to speak with him. He knew, deep down, he owed them both the news of what had come to pass. Still, he didn’t want to deliver it. He didn’t want to speak to Garrosh because of the way the man had treated Alayne. He dreaded having to deliver such sad tidings to Geyah as well. The woman was old, her grasp on life tenuous as her spirit strove to join her friends and loved ones in the afterlife. Zerith did not want to add a reason for her to make that journey just yet. He’d had enough of death. More than enough.

As they made their way through the path Ger’alin had indicated that would take them to the house he’d had built for his wife, Zerith’s heart began to race. Dar’ja reached out and put a calming hand on his thigh, letting him know that she was there and that she understood how difficult this was for him. Callie’s mount dragged its hooves, sharing its rider’s reluctance to go forward.

“I would have thought you’d put the cook fire out,” Jez’ral said suddenly. “Did you want to burn it to the ground?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You left the cook fire burning.”

“Jez’ral, we’ve not been here since before we went up against Magtheridon,” Zerith said.

“What?! Then who’s been looking after…”

427

The priest didn’t hear the rest of what the befuddled warlock said. The man was right; the cook fires were burning. Someone was staying there. Someone was in his sister’s house.

Someone was about to catch unholy hell.

“Wait, what did you just say Jez’ral?” Mir’el asked, stunned. Zerith threw the door open with a bang, letting it slam back behind him as he stormed inside. The interior was in disarray. Carpets had been flung about and the furniture was not set up in a manner conducive to utility. There was a clear path through the mess, though, one that seemed to connect the kitchen to the hallway leading back to the bedrooms. Zerith noted that something was burning in the kitchen and, looking in, hoped that Dar’ja would take the ruined stew off the fire when she passed by. For now, he wanted to see who had taken up residence in this house. Anger and a desperate kind of hope gave wings to his feet.

Checking the bedrooms one by one, he felt disappointment at finding each empty in turn. When he came to the last one – the one he’d dreamed belonged to Alayne and Ger’alin – he had to fight to force himself to open the door. Part of him was eager to see who, if anyone, lay inside. Part of him dreaded what he might find. This all seemed impossible.

Opening the door, tuning out the joyful sounding cries he heard from the front of the house, he stepped into the bedroom, seeing that someone was sleeping there. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, he fell to his knees. What he was seeing was impossible.

Ger’alin lay on his side, facing the doorway, his hair streaming down his arms and chest. Bandages covered those arms and that chest and, looking closely, Zerith could see burns scarring the man’s face. Some kind of ointment had been applied to them from the way his skin shone. Zerith’s gaze followed Ger’alin’s arms to his hands and saw that he clutched something against him, hidden mostly beneath the blankets. The priest’s heart began thundering and he reached up and slapped himself hard to make certain he was awake.

Blonde hair peeked out from under the blanket and was wrapped up in Ger’alin’s wounded fingers.

“If you wake her up just when I’ve finally let her drop off to sleep,” the Blood Knight said, opening his eyes a crack, “somehow, I’ll find the strength to beat you into next week.”

“You’re alive!”

“Zerith?”

“You’re alive!”

“Oh great, a repeat performance of what your sister did after the second battle of Stromgarde,” he joked. “You thought we were dead?” he said somberly. “Alayne, wake up.”

“Let me sleep. You’ve kept me up three nights straight,” she moaned.

“Zerith’s here. Oh Light woman, you’re covered,” he laughed when she reached up and jerked the blanket well over her head. Zerith winced when he saw burns and blisters dotting her fingers before she snatched them back under the cover. “You didn’t get the message from Garrosh? He and Akama are the ones who found us, burnt up and bleeding on the floor of the bridge of Tempest Keep.”

“I’ve not spoken with Garrosh. Akama didn’t say anything about this. Not that I really gave him a chance to say much of anything,” Zerith admitted guiltily. “I was too angry.

How did you two survive? We all thought you were dead.”

“That is a very long story,” Ger’alin yawned. “And neither of us has gotten much sleep lately. Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, man. We’ve been in too much pain to sleep.

Well, that too,” he admitted with a rueful laugh. “Make yourselves at home. Clean it up if you want, and we’ll tell you all about it in a little while. For now, just let us sleep. It may be a while before we get anymore rest.” ~*~*~*~

428

“They’re alive,” Mir’el, Dar’ja, Callie, and Zerith all said at the same time for the dozenth time that hour. The five had busied themselves cleaning up the kitchen and the living room, rearranging things so that some semblance of order prevailed. Every so often they would pause in the work, listen for one of Ger’alin’s great snores or one of the couple’s insane babblings, and then pronounce the statement they had just repeated.

“Yes, they’re alive. You had me terrified they had died, though,” Jez’ral replied.

“How could you do that to me? Did I wrong you in a past life?”

“Why didn’t you tell us they were alive?” Zerith demanded.

“I didn’t know you thought they were dead. I didn’t know you thought they’d died falling into the portal. Really, Zerith, for a man as wise and knowledgeable as you are, your education certainly has been spotty in places.”

“Welcome back, Jez’ral,” Mir’el laughed, striding across the room and nipping the man’s ear. Jez’ral blushed but permitted the embrace. “I figured she was killed on the other side. She’s good, but overcoming Kil’jaeden?” he said, shaking his head.

“She almost was killed by him,” Jez’ral replied. “Ah, the lady is up. I’ll let her tell the tale. Do you need help?” he asked.

Zerith and the others dropped what they were doing and rushed to help the injured couple. Both wore thick house robes that were bloused out so as not to touch their skin more than necessary. Glancing at Ger’alin’s chest and stomach, Zerith could see why neither of them would want to wear more than that. Ugly, angry burns scored most of their bodies. He thought he could see the beginnings of claw marks on Ger’alin’s neck, the spacing too wide to be friendly fire. Alayne supported him with her body as he limped into the room. Her own steps were not much steadier. “Sit down on the couch, both of you,” the priest said. “We cleared it off. I want to look at you both. What happened?”

“We fell through a portal into the abyss,” Ger’alin said lightly. “Kil’jaeden was not happy with us. He didn’t have much time to spend on his displeasure, though, before Alayne managed to open a small portal that dropped us into Tempest Keep. Still, he had enough time to make both of us decide to remove the Twisting Nether from our list of possible retirement locales.”

“It was a close run thing,” Alayne admitted frankly. “If Ger’alin hadn’t jumped in after me and pulled up that shield, I would be dead.”

“Are they arcane burns?” Zerith asked. “Let me examine you both.”

“They’re worse than arcane burns,” Alayne answered. “Prayer and magic won’t heal them. Only time will. Consider it a demon’s curse. Or, consider it my punishment for the worry I put you through. I knew it would hurt you but…no, no excuses. I was wrong. I almost destroyed the very thing I was trying to save because I was wrong.”

“What was that whole thing about?” Zerith asked, moving over and tugging at Ger’alin’s robe so he could get a better view of the wound that had the man limping. He gasped when he saw blood-red bandages wrapped around his thigh from nearly hip to knee.

“Those need to be changed.”

“Ysiel Windsinger will be coming by later to do just that,” Ger’alin answered. “And Geyah will be by with something for us to take so we can make the journey to Shattrath in a few days.”

“If Grandmother had her way, we wouldn’t be going at all,” Alayne said quickly.

“But, the trials can’t be held off forever. I need to explain and answer for what I did.”

“We both will,” Ger’alin said, draping a careful arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“But…tell me what was going on!” Zerith pleaded.

“Remember how I fell to my addiction after the Black Temple?” Ger’alin answered.

“Remember how everyone turned against Alayne because of what she did there? Well, my wife got it into her head to cure me. She thought that the only way she could do it, though, 429

was to take the two Vials we’d found and go to the Sunwell. Her only means of reliably accessing the Sunwell? Kael’thas. Had she gone back to Silvermoon, she would have set off a war for certain once news got out that the Vials were there. Also, she needed the assistance of those more experienced and knowledgeable than she. She could have gone to the Scryers…”

“If I thought they had the boldness to do what needed to be done, I would have,” she interrupted.

“But, instead, she took a chance and went to Kael’thas. She figured she could also thwart his plans with the Legion, maybe even turn him around again, but she needed a key to get in. The Vials were that key.”

“Let me tell it. I went to Kael’thas because he was already trying to reignite the Sunwell. I had hoped that, with the two Vials, he would halt his plan to summon Kil’jaeden and go along with what I had worked out. He didn’t, of course, so I stayed on and proved myself trustworthy to him in order to be in a position to stop him. Yes, I ramped up production of the manaforges. I saw, working with Telonicus, that the Vials by themselves would not be enough. They were the key to my plan but I would need a vast reserve of energy to call upon. So, I worked out methods to speed production of the manaforges. That also greatly increased Kael’thas’s plans. Then, we heard rumors that the Scryers were massing for an attack. We were nearly ready to start the next phase of operations so I diverted energy into the shield, setting it up so that only the destruction of the forges would bring it down. I suppose, since you managed to get into Tempest Keep, the forges are destroyed?”

“Mostly,” Zerith answered.

“That’s good and bad,” she sighed. “Perhaps the Netherstorm will renew itself with the forges off-line. Another time,” she said, forestalling questions. “I gather that you managed to kill or mortally wound Kael’thas when you attacked Tempest Keep. By that time, I and any others he trusted were on Quel’Danas. The energy we’d harvested with the forges was being used to power the crystals and the golems on the island. I wondered at this, but not for long. It turns out that the essence of the Sunwell had survived. Kael’thas had me attune myself to it so that I could tap into it. I revised my plans accordingly. By now, I knew that the Scryers were after me, Zerith, and I knew that I didn’t have much longer to put my actions into play. I thought you were under arrest or were being held in Shattrath. I figured I’d put you off the chase in Nagrand with the vision I’d sent you of your father and my own…” “…that was you?”

“Yes.” “I told you I sensed arcane energies. It seems that she set up a trap for us.

Periodically, an illusion would happen around us if we weren’t in Shattrath. She was trying to divert us and keep us from finding her until she was gone. It worked, too,” Ger’alin sighed.

“At any rate, you managed to make it to Quel’Danas just as we were beginning the summoning. Kael’thas was watching my every move. I also had ‘honor guards,’” she said, her mouth twisting in distaste. “Eredar sorcerers, the ones you fought, the ones who nearly had us kill each other. They guarded me closely. I had to pretend to be on their side until Kil’jaeden was nearly through the portal. My plan was, then, to enclose myself and Kil’jaeden in a dome using the energies from the Sunwell and then destroy him while he was still weakened from the summoning. Then, with my final strength, I would have shattered the Vials, killing the eredar holding them and unleashing their power into the matrix with the Sunwell’s energy. That would have been enough to reignite it. Then, Ger’alin would have been healed, as would all the Wretched, and life could have gone back to normal.”

“Why stage the attacks and make it look as if you were siding with Kael’thas willingly?”

“So you would hate me,” she admitted. “I wanted all of you to hate me. I thought it would hurt you less that way.”

430

“Are you crazy? Or stupid?” Zerith asked, horrified.

“I’ve asked her the same thing. Sometimes there simply is no understanding what goes on in her head,” Ger’alin sighed. “At any rate, you know most of it, now…”

“I still don’t see how you survived falling through that portal.”

“Luck,” Alayne said, staring at her hands.

“Faith,” Ger’alin grinned, stroking the back of her neck gently. “When we fell through, Alayne and Kil’jaeden were hurling spells at each other. Her skin was already nearly scorched off. I reached out to the Light for one desperate act and threw a shield around us.

The Light was with me and it healed her enough for her to open a portal to Tempest Keep, the closest location to the Nether she could reach. I think my prayer must have reacted with where ever we were because Kil’jaeden roared and vanished in short order. He looked fairly wounded to me. Perhaps he’ll die of his wounds and leave the rest of the universe in peace.”

The group sat in silence for a while. Only the occasional groan from Ger’alin or Alayne broke the quiet. Each was pondering over what the pair had told them, fitting it in with what they knew. At last, Callie broke the silence with a sigh.

“We were all wrong,” she said. “All of us. Alayne, you were wrong to head down that path. It nearly killed you and ruined everything you hope to save.”

“I know,” the woman said softly.

“Let me finish,” Callie requested. “We were wrong to turn on you like we did. One of my greatest fears after you vanished and we couldn’t catch up to you was that I would never have the chance to tell you that. You did what you did not to hurt us, but to help him,” she said, pointing to Ger’alin. “We should have understood that and forgiven you instead of getting upset about it and leaving you alone so that you felt the only thing you could do was go off on your own. I feel as if I contributed to this whole business by standing aloof when you needed us there to help you with Gerry. I hope that, in time, you can forgive me for that.”

“If you can forgive me for pulling Kil’jaeden halfway into our world, I suppose I can forgive you for not helping me wash his hair,” Alayne said, her eyes shining. A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Without waiting for permission, several druids entered and, exclaiming over the pair being out of bed, hurriedly ushered them back to the bedroom.

Zerith rose and followed, hoping to learn enough of the druids’ treatment plan to take over for them. Dar’ja stood and finished straightening the room while Mir’el and Jez’ral began discussing what they could go find for supper. Callie sat back in the shadows, watching the scene, happy to be home at long last.

“I wonder,” the Forsaken muttered to herself, “how long I should give them to recover before I start a prank war of epic proportions.”

“My dear Forsaken,” Mir’el said, glancing over at her. “I could not help overhearing.

Shall we put our heads together and plot out how to bring some welcome laughter to this house once all of the inhabitants are over their shock and injuries?”

“I’d offer to marry you and bear your children,” Callie cackled, “only I’m dead and you’re spoken for. So, Mir’el, what do you have in mind?” ~*~*~*~ Garrosh and Akama escorted Geyah into the house. In the days since their arrival, Zerith and the others had purchased reclining chairs that allowed Ger’alin and Alayne to get out of the bed and move to the front of the house while still resting. The change had done them good. Ger’alin’s leg was healing and most of Alayne’s worst burns had faded to a dull pink. The priest was still upset that both of them insisted on standing trial in Shattrath. He felt they had confessed enough. Both had been interviewed by Voren’thal and Ishanah.

431

In his heart, Zerith feared that Alayne still faced execution for her part in the attack on Shattrath. That no one had died and only Jez’ral had been truly injured did not ease his mind at all. She had violated the sanctuary of the city. Even with all of the precautions she spoke of, there had still been a real risk of death to the inhabitants. It had chilled him to hear her acknowledge that and explain that her choice, as she had seen it, had been the probable death of a handful or the certain death of hundreds. He’d made the same dread calculus, yes, when designing battle plans. But to hear those words from her lips…

“How are you feeling?” Grandmother Geyah asked once she was settled on the couch near Alayne and Ger’alin.

“I’ll be up to riding in a few days,” Ger’alin laughed, touching his healing leg lightly.

“It itches like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, though. I guess that means it’s healing.”

“I’m still just so tired,” Alayne muttered. “I never thought I could be this tired.”

“Exposure to pure Nether does that to a body,” Geyah said wisely. “I’ve seen orcs age before their time from channeling those energies. Even discounting the war and violence, warlocks rarely lived long.”

“That’s true,” Mir’el agreed. “That’s why we harped on you students so much to be sparing of your spells and to rely on free-floating energies instead of tapping from the Nether too frequently.”

“I know, Murl,” Alayne slurred. “I did pay attention in class. Wasn’t I your best student?”

“Second-best, actually,” he teased. “Jez’ral was and now is my best student.”

“You’re biased.”

“So, brother, how goes the tribe?” Ger’alin asked, turning to face Garrosh.

“It goes well,” Garrosh answered. “Mor’ghor sends word that the drakes are increasing and flourishing now that we’ve convinced them to leave Netherstorm and Shadowmoon Valley to settle in Nagrand and Terokkar. In a few years, we’ll be able to use them to help renew both areas they’ve left. There’s good land, there, if it’s allowed to lay fallow a few seasons more.”

“What of the Temple?”

“Akama’s dearest wish is for the pair of you to attend its first service of dedication.”

“We’ll be there, in one form or another,” Ger’alin promised. Reaching over, he took his wife’s hand in his own, careful of the still painful burns. “How goes the restoration of the Broken?”

“That will probably never come to pass,” Geyah interjected. “It has been too long for too many of them. And, theirs was not a devolution due to loss of an energy source like what you describe with the Wretched. It was more like a binding curse laid on them by the fel energies they were tainted with during the war. Akama and the others have come to terms with it, over time. While they pray and hope for restoration, Ger’alin, I would not have you worry too strongly over it. Especially not when you still can’t sit a saddle,” she teased.

“Bah,” the paladin laughed. “Has Oshu’gun cleared out?”

“The naaru have sanctified it once more. K’ure rests more comfortably, his transition guarded by his brethren.”

“That’s good. What of the last hold-outs from Kael’thas?”

“They have surrendered. They are being held with the other prisoners in Shattrath.

They’ll stand trial along with the rest of you. I myself have asked for leniency for them. They fought well and honorably and surrendered with no tricks. They would make worthy allies, just like certain other members of their race I could name,” Garrosh supplied, smiling at the pair. “I know I’ve not said it, but I was wrong.”

“Of course you were,” Ger’alin joked. “Little brothers always are.”

“Little?”

432

“Considering the way you hunch over all the time, I’m a full foot taller. So, yes, little.”

“I see,” Garrosh snorted. “Since I am now the chieftain of the Mag’har, the mothers of the clan have made it clear that I need a wife.”

“You mean the mothers of the clan found you a bride and have told you to marry her or fight all of them in single combat,” Geyah laughed. “A chieftain without a woman is no chieftain at all. Who would do the thinking?”

“It would honor me if you would attend the marriage ceremony,” Garrosh said, looking at the floor.

“In one form or another, we’ll be there,” Alayne answered softly.

“I can’t take this waiting much longer!” Zerith said suddenly. “Why must you put yourselves on trial? Certainly after everything you’ve done, after the reasons you’ve given for doing it, and after having saved our people from destruction, certainly you should be able to serve a period of exile instead of giving your neck to the headsman!”

“The naaru and the Light will decide my fate, Zerith,” Alayne said gently. “To ask otherwise would be unjust and unfair. I hadn’t planned to live this long. I’m sorry to put this burden on you.”

“I just don’t want to lose you again. All these times of thinking you’re gone…”

“At least this time you’ll know.”

“Don’t be glib!”

“I’m sorry. What else should I do? Refuse to face justice for what I wrought?”

“I don’t know,” he whined.

“It will all be over soon,” she promised, “for now, let’s enjoy what we have.” ~*~*~*~ Ger’alin sat gingerly in his saddle, his leg throbbing and making him glad he’d let Zerith talk him into bringing crutches. Alayne sat huddled against his chest, still so exhausted from her ordeals that she had fallen off her horse after just a few steps. The Blood Knight prayed that they would provide a chair for her. She didn’t have his stamina or strength.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said softly, rubbing his good leg with her hand. “I’ll make it through.”

“You had better, woman,” he teased. “I don’t know if there will be a handy hole for us to leap into if you get in trouble again.”

“I’ll be good,” she said, keeping it light.

“Sar’la will probably knock you to the ground when she sees you.”

“I’ll try to make it look intentional, then.”

“You don’t have any tricks up your sleeve for if they do decide to kill you, do you?” he asked suddenly, careful to keep his voice pitched low. “If you’d let me drag this out another few days, I would have been able to be sure of getting you out of there, come what may.”

“No, I don’t,” she said, sounding a touch exasperated. “I told you, I will face this. I owe it to myself and to everyone else. If I were to run away and hide, the suspicions, the mistrust, and the hatred would never end. Of all who followed him, I’m one of the highest ranking members of Kael’s followers still alive. I’ve explained this to you.”

“I know, Lady Sunrage,” he growled. “You certainly have picked up a lot of noble mannerisms along with that title he granted you.”

“Oh, leave me alone,” she sighed irritably. “I told you, I refused to accept that rubbish.”

433

“Whether you’ve accepted it or not, you’re playing the role. And, while it pains me what might come of it, I’m proud of you,” he said, pressing his lips against her hair. “You drive me absolutely crazy, but I’m proud of you.”

The pair rode on in silence, taking stock and trying to enjoy what might be their last time together in this life. All too soon, the gates leading into the Aldor tier appeared at the head of the trail from Nagrand. Ger’alin gritted his teeth as they entered the shady confines.

He’d heard it said that the walk from the prison cell to the hangman’s square was the longest walk a man could make. This one didn’t seem nearly long enough.

Crowds were gathered around the central building on the Terrace of Light. Seeing the newcomers arriving, they parted to let them through. Attendants for the Shattered Sun Offensive took the mounts, leading them away with promises that they would be well cared for regardless of the outcome. A few clapped Ger’alin on the shoulder, their expressions sad but accepting. Zerith wondered at that, wishing he knew what communications had passed between the pair and the inhabitants of the sanctuary city while he and the others had believed them dead.

Ger’alin kept a steadying arm around his wife, leading her over to the front lines of those who were to face justice this day. He nodded at Ben’lir who had stepped forward, spreading his own tattered cloak on the ground and gesturing for Alayne to sit down on it.

The rest of the former forge workers under her command saluted her, recalling the times when she had been in the trenches with them. “I never thought it might come to this, my Lady,” Ben’lir said calmly, “but, it has been an honor to serve at your side.”

“The honor was mine,” Alayne said as she sank to the floor, not having the energy to continue standing. Ben’lir knelt beside her, glancing up at Ger’alin. “I can…” he started to say, his voice dropping when he saw the hammer the man carried. “Where did you get that?” he asked, pointing.

“A friend loaned it to me,” Ger’alin said, puzzled. This was hardly the time to wonder after weaponry.

“Who?” “A little orphan girl named Sar’la. We’ll discuss this later, I hope,” the paladin said quickly. “I must go. Take care of her for me.”

“I will,” Ben’lir promised. “You just sit here and rest, my Lady. Save your strength.”

When Ger’alin rejoined the forces on the other side of the room, his eyes never leaving his wife, silence settled across the gathering. Standing beneath A’dal were those who would act as judges alongside the naaru this day. Ishanah of the Aldor, Voren’thal of the Scryers, Tiras’alan of the Shattered Sun, and Khadgar of Shattrath. The hush was broken when, just as A’dal called for order, the crowds parted again. A draenei priest and a blood elf paladin strode through the crowds, taking their place alongside the other judges. Ger’alin recognized Lady Liadrin but could not put a name to the draenei beside her. “Our apologies for our late arrival,” the draenei said loudly. “We were held up by the zeppelin.”

“Be welcome to Shattrath, Velen of Argus, Draenor, and Azeroth,” A’dal chimed warmly. “You have been missed.”

“I hope that this is merely the first of many visits, A’dal of the naaru.”

“Let us begin,” A’dal suggested. “Today, we are called to bring to account those who, through their actions, recklessly endangered the lives of countless millions across two worlds.

For, by continuing to follow their prince in his schemes to bring the Burning Legion into their world, the followers of Kael’thas Sunstrider brought death, destruction, and destitution to peoples without number. They ravaged a once fertile valley, turning it into a barren desert we call the Netherstorm. They worked with Illidan Stormrage and tainted several of the orc clans with demonic bloodlust. They threatened the stability of the ecosystems of Terokkar and

434

Zangarmarsh. All this was done for their prince’s lust for power and glory. Worse still, they did all these things and more believing they were serving a greater good.”

“That is not enough, naaru!” a voice cried out from the crowd. Shoving his way forward, Alayne groaned when she recognized Var’thanos. “They did all those things and more! Their entire race is tainted. For millennia, they have recklessly pursued the very power that once nearly destroyed our world. They pursued it knowing how destructive it was. Long ago, Malfurion Stormrage made a great mistake in allowing them to live in exile. Their poison should no longer be allowed to pollute the world. Even their young,” he spat, pointing at Alayne, “are twisted. Did she not attack this city and steal the Vial housed within?”

“I did,” Alayne said calmly, her voice cutting across the room.

“Did you not use the Vials to summon Kil’jaeden?”

“Not exactly.”

“Did you not…”

“That is enough,” A’dal rang softly. “She will be interrogated shortly.”

“It is not enough, A’dal! All those who have brought about this last war must be executed! For weeks, we have lobbied you to do just that. And now you put them through a farce of a trial? They are guilty! From their own mouths they admit it! Let justice be done!”

Many in the gathering murmured their agreement with that sentiment. Alayne herself nodded as if conceding the point. She knew very well that they did all deserve to die. She hoped that this trial would bring out the suffering they had undergone and, even after their deaths, would provide a common point for healing. Glancing around her, she saw grim acceptance on the features of her former workers. Only a handful still thought they had been in the right; that Kael’thas was a hero. Most of the others, after having heard that he had worked to summon the Legion, were aghast and still in shock at how quickly things had gone so far. Alayne pitied them. Had Kael’s machinations not been sped up by her presence, many might have defected. She bore the brunt of their guilt and she intended to make that clear at this trial.

A stirring in the crowds tore her away from her thoughts. Velen, the draenei priest beside Liadrin, was moving over to the ranks of the accused. Several other draenei walked with him, planting themselves firmly in front of where Alayne sat.

“Velen, what is the meaning of this? Do you mean to side with those damnable sin’dorei over your own allies?” Alayne heard a Darnassian-accented voice demand. “Do you mean to break with the Alliance?”

“No,” Velen said calmly, “I merely mean to take my place among those who brought about this last war. Did you not hear what I said at the Sunwell just a few short weeks ago, Fandral? If you would execute all who are responsible for the Legion, you must kill every last draenei who draws breath. For, it was from our ranks that the man’ari came. Once we were the same race, on Argus. We are now what they could have become had they rejected the offerings of the Dark Titan. They are what we would have become had we been seduced by his temptations. If you would point the finger at your own younglings, at those you cast out to live or die on their own merits, then you must point the finger at us as well.”

“This is ridiculous! You’ve fought the Legion alongside the rest of us, Velen. None would accuse you merely because once you and Kil’jaeden and the rest of the cursed eredar shared blood.”

“Nevertheless, we are responsible. Had I been wiser, had I been more persuasive, the Legion might never have been born.”

“So you would shield the guilty, forcing us to kill innocents in order to protect them?”

“No. I merely ask that we remember the teachings of the Light.”

“Does the Light not call for justice to be done upon those who reject it?”

435

“The Light calls for justice, yes,” Ger’alin said loudly, stepping forward. “Would justice be served by further death?”

“You’re prejudiced in their favor for your wife stands among their number!”

Var’thanos accused.

“She does not stand amongst them. She sits. She may never be able to stand for long again. But that is neither here nor there. Would justice be served by further death?”

“Yes!” he screamed. “We should have killed your ancestors long ago! Had we done so, the Dark Portal would never have been created. The orcs would never have devastated our new allies’ lands. The Scourge would never have been created. Our forests would never have been profaned and we would still dwell at peace around the World Tree. Our immortality would not have been lost to us and we would not sicken and weaken! Our people would live on instead of dying out by inches!”

Ger’alin was at a loss for how to respond. “Had you done that, many lives might have been saved,” Alayne was saying, her voice sounding strong despite her present weakness.

“Had you done that, our people would never have known pain, despair, and the devastation that comes from watching friends and family die before our eyes. I would not have buried my mother. I would not have killed my father. Zerith would not have buried all of his sisters and both of his parents, watching them waste away in front of him before they passed on. Much suffering would have been avoided. So why didn’t you?” she asked.

“Because Malfurion did not want his brother’s blood on his hands. He was weak, then, and foolishly sentimental. I’m certain that where ever he is, he regrets that, now, knowing that Illidan would turn himself into a demon for lust of power and that the exiles would nearly destroy the world again, just like Azshara tried to do once before!”

“Was there no other option?” Ben’lir asked, casting back over what he recalled of history. “You point the finger at us, but if you had not exiled us to begin with, if you had worked with us, perhaps this would not have happened.”

“You’re just trying to save your own skin.”

“I am indeed. I don’t want to die. But did you not contribute to this disaster by sending our ancestors away where they could cause more problems? Wasn’t that just what Velen was talking about?”

“Enough!” A’dal roared loudly, his patience at an end. “These arguments go back a long way. None can say whether a chance changing of one action for another would bring about a better or worse result. That is not for us to know. What is for us to know is that the Light will shine upon us and give us justice if we rely on it. Now, Alayne Sunrage, you stand highest among those who followed Kael’thas Sunstrider. You were responsible for much of the continued destruction of the Netherstorm. You summoned Kil’jaeden into Azeroth.

Why?” “For love of power,” she admitted. The fellows around her gasped. “I was born into a world where magic reigned. The sun of the heavens shone down on a world lit by the Sunwell. I, and every other sin’dorei, was bathed in its power, its glow, its warmth. Then it was taken from us and we began to sicken and die. A temporary cure was found, one that did not ease the emptiness we felt but allowed us to survive.

I would have been content to keep it that way,” she continued, “but I came across a new method of hope and a reason to use it. The man I love,” she pointed at Ger’alin, “succumbed to the illness that threatened so many of our race. I feared losing him, I feared remaining with him once the hunger took hold of him. So, I set about trying to cure him, to cure all those of my kind who suffered from this horrendous disease.”

“Why did you seek out the Legion instead of the Light?” Velen asked, turning and looking down at her. She stared up at his face, shading her eyes against the glare of the shining crystals high above his head.

436

“I was afraid,” she admitted. “I saw the Scryers and the Aldor sitting in Shattrath with one of the Vials, doing nothing. I saw that any time the mere thought of using it came up, our cousins the kaldorei had a collective conniption fit. I knew that if I returned here and suggested it be used, the riots that sparked up when its existence here was discovered, would return tenfold. I didn’t want that. I thought that if I could take the Vial to Kael’thas, he would use it to restore the Sunwell and would give up his plotting to summon the Legion. It was a long shot and I was wrong. He took the Vial was planning to use them to help restore the Sunwell. However, the restoration of the Sunwell was secondary to his goal: to summon the Legion and take his revenge on the humans who had killed so many of us. So, I remained with him to do what I could to ensure that his summoning would not lead to disaster.”

“You could have died. Had he found out, he would have killed you,” Velen pointed out. “Then where would your plotting have led?”

“I knew that. I did my best to make myself invaluable to him to spare myself that fate. I became the image of what he wanted from me, excelling in all of the tasks he entrusted me with, helping his dreams to come true. And, I planned to use the Vials to destroy the very being he wanted more than anything. I hoped that would restore the Sunwell so that no more of my people would sicken and die from its loss.”

“You could have come to us. When your husband fell ill, you could have brought him to us for treatment,” A’dal added gently.

“I didn’t believe it would help. Our own priests, like my brother Zerith, had tried to cure the Wretched. It did not work. Nothing but restoring the Sunwell would have worked – or so I thought at the time.”

“Why did you bear this on your own shoulders? And why carry it alone? Why carry on with such a dangerous plan instead of turning to others for aid?”

The accused sin’dorei glanced at each other then stared at the naaru, shrugging helplessly. “No one would have helped us,” some said.

“We’d been cast out by our one-time allies already,” another volunteered.

“Even the Horde doesn’t really trust or accept us,” Ben’lir added.

“In the end,” Alayne sighed, “we sin’dorei have only had each other. We’ve been cast out,” she said, looking at the night elves, “we’ve been imprisoned,” she continued, her eyes landing on Khadgar. “We’ve been mistrusted, distrusted, and used,” she finished, taking in the entire gathering. “Who were we to rely on to help us with this great work? No one wanted to, no one offered to. We were left, as we have been many times in our history, to fend for ourselves.”

“If you had known that I would have helped you,” A’dal offered, “would things have been different?”

“I can’t answer that question,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”

“Very well, then,” the naaru chimed. “Justice must be done. The Light calls out for mercy and compassion but for justice above all. And it must be rendered here, this day.”

Ger’alin clenched his fists and teeth. His stomach fell to his feet. Zerith placed a shaking hand on the paladin’s shoulder, wishing he could offer comfort. It seemed certain that the sin’dorei who had followed Kael’thas were to be put to death. A whispered conference was taking place around the naaru, the voices pitched low so as not to be heard by the watchers or the accused. Ger’alin tore away from where he stood and ran to Alayne’s side. Throwing himself down beside her, he stared defiantly at the judges. “I do not ask you to change your verdict for me. I only ask that whatever sentence you pronounce upon her, you pronounce upon me as well. For, she is my wife. We are united. If the axe must take her head, let it also take mine.”

Shocked silence met his declaration. After a beat, A’dal chimed in, “There is not an axe sharp enough to cut through your stubborn neck, Ger’alin Sunrage. So, I suppose it is a 437

good thing that our verdict, reached by the elders of each race and under the Light, is that those who followed Kael’thas are to be given a choice. Death may still come for them, but it will not come today. All of you who served the Legion, knowingly or unknowingly, are sentenced to serve the Light. Until the memory of this war and your part in it has faded, you will be sentenced to serve in Shattrath, acting as janitors, custodians, servants, medics, teachers, cooks, or in any other role you might be needed to fulfill. Only you will know when your sentence has come to an end. Should you leave the city without permission before that time, you will be executed as fugitives. That is your choice: to serve the Light or accept the price of your part in this war.”

“Preposterous!” Var’thanos snorted. “I have done with this mockery!” he and many others of the same mind stormed out of the building and city. Alayne stared up at the naaru, nodding.

“It is preposterous,” she said, “but I accept this sentence.”

“If our leader accepts it, so do we,” Ben’lir answered. Only three elves shook their heads, protesting. “If she accepts it, so do we,” he growled at them, reaching for the sword that normally hung at his hip until he remembered he’d been disarmed for the trial.

“They’ll come around, in time, I hope,” Ger’alin said as he watched the three being dragged away, back to their cells.

“You will stay in the servant’s quarters in Lower City,” Velen was explaining to the rest of the convicted. “Except for you, of course, Lady Sunrage. You will be remanded to your husband’s parole and permitted to stay at your home in Nagrand. Your first act of servitude will come in three days. You will all be excepted to help clean and decorate the city for its victory celebration. Until then, you are free to acquaint yourself with Shattrath provided, of course, that you do not leave without permission. Should you desire such permission, merely request if of Voren’thal, A’dal, or Ishanah and, provided your reason is sound, it should be granted.”

The convicts nodded and began dispersing uneasily, no longer certain of their place in the world. Alayne sank back in her husband’s arms, exhausted even by merely sitting up for so long. “If I’m expected to clean and decorate in three days, I’d better spend that time sleeping if I want to do more than look at a broom,” she yawned. Ger’alin glanced down at her worriedly but held his peace.

“Miss Alayne, Miss Alayne!” Sar’la shouted, running across the emptying room. “I heard you were back! Are you okay? I heard you got sick, too.”

“I’m okay, Sar’la,” she sighed. “Just tired.”

“Did you get to use my papa’s hammer, Mister Ger’alin?” she asked, switching tracks quickly, not wanting to bother Alayne. “Was it good?” she asked when he smiled and nodded.

“I cracked Kil’jaeden a good one with it. I’m sure your father was smiling from heaven knowing that his hammer beat up the leader of the Legion.”

“You have to tell me that story!” she cheered.

“Is this the friend who loaned you that fine mace?” Ben’lir asked quietly from where he’d been standing a few feet back. Ger’alin nodded and Ben’lir began studying the little girl closely. “You said that was your father’s mace?”

“Yes,” she answered happily. “I loaned it to Mister Ger’alin.”

“You’re certain that was your father’s mace?”

“Yes. Matron told me so.”

“That’s not possible,” he said breathlessly. “That mace belonged to my brother-inlaw. He and his sister were killed by the Scourge before you were born…”

“Matron says that one of my papa’s friends brought me here when I was a baby. She told me that papa and mama had escaped from the Scourge and come here with Prince 438

Kael’thas. Then papa got hurt by some demons and mama had me and then she got really sick. Papa’s friend brought me here because, as Matron said, there was no one to look after a baby where I was. If papa was your brother-in-law, are you my uncle?”

“Do you know your father’s name?”

“Matron says he was Ra’lin Keysworn. That makes me Sar’la Keysworn, I guess.”

The girl blinked and tried to regain her balance. The world seemed to whirl as the man picked her up in a tight embrace. “I am,” he laughed, tears in his eyes and voice, “I am your uncle. Your mother Ginaria was my sister! I thought I’d lost all of my family.”

“It seems that you didn’t,” Ger’alin smiled.

“No, but I almost did,” Ben’lir sighed, setting the girl down. “My Lady, following you has brought me here. I will continue to follow you until death comes for me. My blade is ever at your beck and call.”

“I told you, Ben’lir,” Alayne grimaced, “I didn’t accept that title.”

“Accept it or not, you are my Lady.”

She glared at his back as he turned, took Sar’la’s hand in his own, and began to walk to Lower City to introduce himself to the Matron of the orphanage and explain his connection to the child. “At least something good has come of all this,” she sighed.

“More good will come,” Zerith added, walking over to the pair. “For now, let’s go home. I want to enjoy some quiet and solitude for a time.”

439