Freedom and Fel Embers

*Dalaran, present day*

Mirithel quickened her pace, her boots loud on the cobblestones of the magical city of Dalaran. She passed a number of shops, her fel green gaze straying to them only for a moment as she continued along her way. Her senses tingled, her heart beating a little faster as she continued to feel like someone was following her. It had started a few blocks back and the feeling had not abated, so she hurried along her way. While the city should be safe, there were always enemies about somewhere.

As she passed between two shops, her luck ran out. A hand grabbed her arm, roughly pulling her into a small alley between the buildings. She was pushed hard against one of the stone walls, air escaping her lungs as a meaty hand wrapped around her throat and held her there by her neck. She gasped, her hands coming up to the arm holding her, little fel embers already dancing on her fingertips.

"Fel magic in Dalaran? I don't think I'd do that if I were you, whore. You'll end up in an even worse position than you are now," a deep voice rumbled in Thalassian. The owner of the voice, a human man whose primary attribute was being large, glared at her from beneath a hood that partially shadowed his face. He wore a motley array of leather armor that had seen better days, and a number of knives rode at his belt.

Despite the hood, Mirithel's eyes widened in recognition of the human that was now man-handling her, her voice coming out in a choked gasp, "Tassen..."

He grinned, his hand squeezing a little and cutting off her air, "Oh, so you do remember me, do you? I'm surprised, given what I've heard of you after our parting. Of how you've stepped on everyone you could to become...this. I see you still dress like his whore though. At least you don't lie about what you are." He spit on the ground after the last part, as if to emphasize the point.

Mirithel's heart raced in her chest, her eyes locked on the sleet gray orbs of the human that held her. She tried to squirm in his grasp, but all that earned her was another choking squeeze and the feel of his hard body pressing her into the stones, "Y-you can't hold on to it forever..."

He snarled in her face, bringing his own inches from her, his fetid breath surrounding her as he leaned closer, "Only until you die. Although you've been dead on the inside for a decade or more so it's just waiting for the outside to go...or helping it along..."

She could tell he was serious. The rage and pain in his hollow stare was enough to telegraph what would happen. He'd choke her or knife her and leave her for dead in this alley, thinking it would kill the memories that haunted him likely day and night, haunted them both. She tried to say something, anything, to convince him otherwise. Her mouth opened, but every conniving, seductive, or even plaintive thing she could think of to say died on her tongue as she knew they would fall on deaf ears.

A moment later her surprise increased as a hand grabbed Tassen's shoulder, a second grabbing him by the back of the head. Before Mirithel could even process what was going on, Tassen was slammed face-first into the stone wall beside her, grunting before his attacker pulled him back and slammed him again. He was then whirled around and shoved out of the alley, his footsteps wobbly as he regained his balance from the surprise attack.

Before Mirithel stood another blood elf, his back to her as he stared Tassen down. For his part, the human merely sneered, spitting in the street and wiping some blood from his nose before growling at her, "You can't hide from it forever, whore. There will be a time when you won't have some charmed fool to defend you, and then you're mine."

With that he was gone, leaving Mirithel shaking with fear, her heart still pounding as her rescuer turned and looked at her, his voice calm, "Are you alright? How did that human know how to speak Thalassian?"

It took a moment for Mirithel to calm enough to register that she'd heard the voice before, her eyes wide as she replied, "You...you're that elf from the bar the other day..."

"Andithiel, yes," he replied with a smile. "I've been looking for you everywhere. An innkeeper in Silvermoon said you often traveled between there and here, so I came here to look for you in the taverns. You can call me Andi."

For a moment, Mirithel's mouth opened and closed without words as she processed everything that had just happened. A moment later she frowned, practically shoving him out of the way as she stormed into the street beyond. "You should not have searched for me. I'm not someone you want to be looking for."

She could feel him falling into step beside her, his longer stride outpacing her even as she walked furiously down the street. His voice was somewhat surprised, but calm when he replied, "Well, I guess a 'thank you' is not coming, but that's alright. I still want to talk to you."

She stopped abruptly, whirling on one boot, the fabric of her rather revealing outfit shifting in place as she jabbed a manicured finger into his chest, "A 'thank you'?! You don't even know me. Don't even know what you walked into. Do you think you're the hero, saving a damsel? Do you think I couldn't have protected myself, if I'd wanted to? Did you ever stop to think that maybe you saved the villain of the story?"

He blinked in surprise at the fury she leveled at him. Despite her raging anger, she was still beautiful, and he paused for a moment to admire the way her hair messily fell around that face. The way those pert lips spat fury at him with every breath. He blinked, realizing she had fallen silent, as if expecting him to answer her impossible tirade. He shrugged, his reply nearly making her eyes bug out of her head, "I want you to teach me. Your magic I mean. I want to learn how to be a warlock."

"You...you want me....to... what?!" Mirithel replied, her surprise so complete that Andithiel actually chuckled.

"I want you to teach me your magic. I gave a lot of thought to what you said, about being free, about finding my own path. I want to learn what you know," he replied in that same calm tone.

"No one asks to become a warlock. That's....that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Mirithel said, looking utterly confused. "Warlocks are people who grasp for power, who grind each other to dust to become ever stronger. Either that, or people so desperate they reach for whatever they can to survive, to..." her voice trailed off, her eyes alight with whatever thoughts crossed her mind.

"Miri, listen," Andithiel began. "For years, I've sat on the sidelines as my two sisters fought for our family, our house. Sure, I've helped out with my bow, and lead rangers in my time, but it was always magic assaulting us, destroying us both from without and within. Even now, magical plots surround us and I'm not strong enough to protect them, to help. I want to walk my own path. I want to learn how to address the problems that I know exist in my own way. I can't do that without learning magic, and I can't rely on what my sisters know because it's not enough. We've suffered too much. I need to do this both for my family, and to be free of my family if that makes sense. To be able to make decisions that are too hard for anyone else to make."

For a long moment, Mirithel said nothing, merely studying the elf before her. No longer in combat leathers, he wore a rather plain doublet and pants. He could have blended in anywhere really, and there was no hint that he came from a noble house or that he had the capabilities he was claiming. And yet he'd driven off Tassen, and now had the boldness to ask a warlock, to ask her of all people, to train him. Her voice was low when she replied, the rage having simmered down, "No one can be that altruistic with this power. It will take a hold on you. It may damn you. Are you willing to take that risk for your family?"

His nod was sincere as was the tone in his voice, "Of course I am. I'm not afraid, but I want to walk a new path. I don't know any warlocks who I trust to teach me. I don't technically even know you, but you seem to be wise enough to remain free from influences that I've seen other people fall to easily. If you weren't, you'd be some lapdog in one of the houses by now, not walking the streets, wearing whatever you'd like and doing whatever you'd like. I immediately envied that when I met you."

She smirked at him, her tone more amused and seductive, "Envied me, or really enjoyed what I was wearing?"

"Would having a ravishing beauty for a teacher be a bad thing really?" he grinned back.

A smile passed over her features for the first time since the encounter began, light chasing darkness away, "Flattery gets you everywhere. I will agree to teach you, but only you can decide how far you are willing to go with it. It will be dangerous, and missteps can cost you more than you can imagine. If you're willing to face that, meet me in Filthy Animal tomorrow evening, and I will show you the trials you face walking this path."

He nodded at her, returning the smile, "Tomorrow it is then. I promise you I will not disappoint you...er...do I have to call you a title or anything as my instructor?"

She laughed at this, shaking her head, "I'm no noble snot for you to fawn over. Call me Miri or don't talk to me at all. I will see you tomorrow. Bring an open mind and a willingness to overcome challenges and you will go far."

He nodded again, "Alright, Miri, I'll see you tomorrow." With that, he turned, striding casually away from her and down the street. As if he had not just made a pact with a devil. As if he hadn't just turned her entire world upside down in the space of five minutes.

She watched him, staring down that street long after he was gone. Watched him walk free for what was likely the first time in his life, and a smile made its way onto her lips. Regardless of what Tassen thought, she was in the business of freeing people. She couldn't set the past to rights, but the future was hers and she would let no one stand in her way. With that last thought in mind she turned, striding towards the nearest magic shop; she had supplies to purchase now for her new pupil.

Terrible Influences

*Silvermoon City, early evening*

Andithiel was beyond pissed off. Raging probably was the correct word to use as he stalked through the streets of Silvermoon and then took a quick left into the darkened opening of a building along Murder Row. Gauzy silken curtains parted to allow him entry into one of the seediest taverns in the city, the place filled with an array of shady looking characters that fit his mood just perfectly. Still wearing his practice armor, the tight leather vest and studded leather pants that hugged his muscular form let him blend in well with the patrons.

How dare she? How dare she send her little minions to issue orders to any member of his household? 

It was bad enough that they had remained allied with Kyliska and her sister for all these months. After all, they'd built them a light-damned spire in repayment for their assistance in battle at former House Felo'melorn's garrison on Draenor. How much longer did they need to repay that debt and curry favor with the unpredictable sisters and scrape and bow as if the two were of any benefit to Andithiel, his sisters, or the city in general?

And now this. In the middle of practice he'd received a missive from Braeth'el ordering him to assign spots to several new rangers and to ensure proper equipment was provided. Andithiel had had enough of Kyliska's latest bed-warmer, and to think of the arrogance of ordering him to take time and effort for her personal soldiers was the last straw.

He'd brought it up with his sisters several times over the past month, but to no avail. Selenthiel, ever the diplomat, had urged patience and expressed sympathy over his frustrations. Tyavel had merely huffed as if his irritations were less important than whatever plans she kept shuttered behind her fel green eyes. He loved his sisters dearly, but he couldn't understand why they didn't see how bad this continued alliance was for their family. Especially with Biara's 'mysterious' disappearance that was, to him, no mystery and another political implosion waiting to happen. He slid into a seat at the bar, practically barking at the bartender for some hard liquor. As an entire bottle was placed in front of him, he felt a pair of eyes on him, and glanced to his left.

She was beautiful. No, that word wasn't even enough, stunning maybe. Fel green eyes studied him from a distance, artfully styled strawberry hair framing her heart shaped face, with the light of the tavern striking her just so, as if she'd planned it. A long cigarette rested between her fingers, acrid smoke rising around her in a stream that left her seemingly shrouded in mystery, the scent clearly laced with bloodthistle. And her outfit... well, to say that Selenthiel would be horrified was putting it mildly. It the purple and blue material glittered with fel green runes, the sheer fabric tight and not nearly present in enough quantity to conceal soft curves and delightfully tanned flesh. And atop her head rested what he first mistook for a demon hunter's horns, only to realize a second later that it was in fact a tiara made of shorn off demonic horns resting atop that mass of hair like a crown.

She met his gaze, blood red lips parting in a smile as she glanced at the bottle, "Having a rough day?" Her voice was like a purr, and Andithiel was not foolish or inexperienced enough to know that everything, from her voice to her appearance to the way she crossed her legs towards him while talking, was all planned and calculated carefully.

He grunted at her, taking a drink directly from the bottle, "A frustrating one, if it's any of your business that is."

Her smile widened, the look almost predatory as she replied, "Sometimes frustrations can be cured more easily than one might first imagine."

He glanced over at her, a brow raised. Was she trying to seduce him after he'd just told her how annoyed he was? Despite himself, his gaze swept over her rather deliciously revealed body before returning to her eyes. For a moment there was amusement there, as if she knew everything he was thinking. He coughed and then gruffly replied, "I don't need your advice or help."

She shrugged, taking a long pull on her cigarette, the smoke trailing from her mouth in a sensuous, snaking trail as she replied, her eyes traveling over him now before meeting his gaze again, "You don't look like someone who needs 'help' or anything else. You look capable enough to handle your frustrations directly. But, your hands are tied, aren't they?"

He studied her for a moment; it was clear she was a deadly little thing with a razor sharp mind. The fel runes dancing on the fabric of her dress made him shudder, recalling every one of Tyavel's lectures about such things. And yet, for a brief moment he imagined that little slip of fabric on the floor of an inn room. Sighing, he took another sip of his drink and grudgingly nodded, "Yes, I would say that is accurate. I'm sure you wouldn't understand."

She shook her head, her hands spread wide in gesture, "But I do. This place, this city, it is like a prison at times. The rules, the politics, the expectations. My hands were once tied too, once bound to duties and service that would have ground me to dust. I know exactly what you are experiencing. Do you want to know what to do about it?"

He looked back at her, staring into that gaze and seeing the wheels turning deep within. She knew how to manipulate, how to play the games, and yet it was clear she was no noble, no one with a title or looking for a title. No one who had to negotiate or stay in bloody deals that brought nothing but irritation. His answer expressed it all in so few words, "And what is that?"

She smiled again, nodding at him, "You do precisely what you want to do. This city, these people, they are only a prison if you allow them to jail you, to hold you back. While I love our people, I realized long ago that it was far more important to love myself first and foremost. To put my needs first. Station, political power, all of that is temporary when you hold the power within yourself to grant your own desires."

He stared at her, considering her words, his next question partially fueled by the alcohol and partly by his frustration with everything that had happened the past few months with his family, with his station in life, "And what is it that you desire?"

Her smile melted into a smirk that some men would have died on their own swords for, her eyes trailing over the exposed muscles of his arm, "Why, everything of course. But I settle for my freedom first and foremost."

Freedom. That illusion that haunted him. His duties to his family, to his house, to his men, and unfortunately to Kyliska and her house bound him, restrained him. When was the last time he ran through the forest and hunted for the fun of it? Between fighting the Legion's forces, worrying over his men, their training and equipment, it was a never ending struggle. When had he last been free?

He nodded at her, at the wild thoughts she inspired in him to simply run away and abandon it all and be done with it, "That sounds like a wonderful dream for those who don't have responsibilities."

She laughed, the sound like a tinkling bell within the darkness of the shady tavern, "Responsibilities can only weigh you down if you let them. You should give yourself that freedom, even if only now and then. Take what you want."

He grimaced and nodded, grateful that she hadn't done something aggressive like lean forward and expose her cleavage. Instead she had sat back, and was just considering him for a time. When she spoke again, it was in a low tone, and with less playfulness, "You will never find what truly sets you free living in chains of your own making, or in the bottom of that bottle. Think about it for a time. What do you really want? It can be yours, the freedom can be yours, if you dare to reach for it. Maybe not today, maybe today you need that bottle, and perhaps one of my cigarettes, but the morning will come and you will need to decide if you want to get up and go back to your prison cell, or walk out of the door and into whatever you desire."

He took another long drink from the bottle before nodding at her, her words making a bit of sense to his surprise, "I will think on it. Maybe it is time that a change was made. Maybe there's a way, who knows. But...thank you. I didn't expect to talk to anyone this evening."

She smiled, shifting and rising slowly, her steps cat like as she came nearer and leaned over him. The scent of her perfume and that tinge of bloodthistle filled the air around him, almost enough to make his head spin when combined with the alcohol. She leaned forward, her breath a whisper against his ear and making his skin heat, "Well, that is what friends are for, isn't it? My name is Mirithel Embersky. Should you need help winning your freedom, come and find me. I hate to see such a strong soldier of Silvermoon struggling in bonds he could so easily snap with his power. In the meantime, let the bottle remind you of those prison walls. Think on it."

Her hand ran up his arm, making his blood heat further, and then she had slipped around him, heading for the door, the swaying of her hips setting the delicate cloth she wore to revealing her upper thighs with each movement. He watched her until she was gone, and then turned back to his bottle, shaking his head. Before him sat her ashtray and the long bloodthistle cigarette, still trailing smoke up from its lit end.

Maybe it is time I talk to my sisters about the threat Kyliska poses to the stability of our house. Maybe it's time I make them listen, and if they won't listen, then maybe it's time I get away from this. I'm sick to death of watching her destroy our family as she and her sister take theirs down. There is more to life than this.

He glanced back at the empty door where the other Sin'dorei had left, smirking as he picked up her cigarette and took a long pull from it. He could taste her lipstick on it, a citrous flavor that mingled with the alcohol and the bloodthistle to relax him for a time.

Tomorrow. Things would change tomorrow. He was sick to death of Kyliska and her family's plots and schemes. He would take his freedom, as Mirithel had suggested.

One way or another. 

Reclaiming the General

*Stormshield- within the Alliance prison hold*

                The orc hung from chains, the metal links looping up to the ceiling and through rings before coming back down to the sides of the room where they were anchored on the stone floor. Tightened just enough to keep his arms arced above his head and his legs painfully stretched, he’d been suspended this way each time the Alliance captain that was overseeing his questioning had come for one of her sessions. Stripped to his loincloth, he was purposely left vulnerable so that he’d be more inclined to talk. Sometimes they left him in that position for hours afterwards, and his weary, battle-hardened form ached both from the current tortures and the memories of his great many battles and victories past.

                “You’ll talk eventually, orc pig,” the blonde human said to him with a smirk. “You can’t hold out forever, and eventually you’ll divulge all of the information we want to know, from your troop strengths to your logistics and battle plans.”

                She’d been at it for hours, and Morgaath Bloodmoon had said not a word to her. Just like every time before that. If she thought to break him by making him uncomfortable and applying what she thought was torture, then she was sadly mistaken. Morgaath was a general, a leader of a clan or orcs and he would rather die than surrender his honor in such a way. He tilted his head up, spitting on the floor near her feet.

                She scowled at him, shaking her head, “So be it. I’ll be back tomorrow, and the day after that, and the days to come until you decide to talk or die. You’re never leaving this place again, so I suggest you think about what is going to happen to you in the years to come.”

                As she left, Morgaath stared at her back with a scowl of hatred; regardless of what she said, he would never submit to the likes of her. Deep inside though he did have to admit one thing, without proper food, exercise, and sunlight he was slowly wasting away. He’d lost many pounds already, and felt an unfamiliar weakness in his body. Although his will would never break, eventually his body would and he would die here, hanging from these chains. It was only a matter of time, and time was not on his side.

                He could only hope that his allies remembered him and were trying to do something about his predicament before it was too late….

*****************************************************************************

*Tanaan Jungle, the outer shores of the region. Midnight. *

                Andithiel frowned with impatience; the night was wearing on and they were running out of time to complete their mission. Already Kyliska was an hour and a half late and had sent no word to him about what was causing the delay. If she was more than another hour or two late they would have to abort the mission and return to Quel’Thalas for re-supply.

                He and his rangers had been hidden in the jungle for over a week now, making their way to the outer shore to find a suitable crossing point. The plan was for Kyliska to meet them with the rest of her men, particularly her Blood Knights, at the selected crossing site. Kyli would arrive by boat as her men were ill suited to make their way through the jungle. By dividing their forces, the Alliance would think Kyli’s men were just heading into the jungle to launch an attack, and Andithiel’s men were few enough in number to slip through the Iron (or Fel?) Horde and make it to the rendezvous site. The plan was working perfectly, if not for Kyliska’s inexplicable delay.

                After another twenty minutes of waiting and having his patience worn down to the very end, he finally spotted the site of small landing craft moving quietly through the waters between Tanaan and the Alliance stronghold of Stormshield. Here at last was Kyliska and the rest of the attacking forces, and they could proceed with their mission to rescue General Morgaath from his imprisonment.

                As Kyliska made her way ashore, Andithiel knew immediately that there was something wrong with her. She looked worn and haggard, as if she’d not slept in days. Her eyes were bloodshot and he’d come to recognize the look she bore as one of a person who has spent the last several days drunk, angry, and upset. He raised a hand to greet her, rising from the bushes and got only a half-hearted response as she quietly ordered her men off the boats.

                “Kyliska! What took you so long? I was beginning to think we’d have to call the entire mission off,” Andithiel said, actual concern in his voice. “Are you alright?”

                “I’m fine,” Kyliska said, her voice rather waspish.

                Andithiel had been around women, particularly Kyliska and his own sisters, long enough to know that her ‘fine’ meant anything but fine. He frowned, studying her sloppy looking armor and messy hair for a moment before pressing the matter gently, “Are you sure? We can launch the attack another evening if you need to. We can find a place to hide our encampment. I know we’ve not always been on the best of terms but…I know when you are hurting. If you can’t do this tonight, say the word. The General will live for another day I’m sure.”

                To Andithiel’s surprise, Kyliska leaned against him, burying her face against his shoulder. Tears ran down her face and he awkwardly wrapped his arm around her to comfort her, thankful that the darkness concealed her issues from the men who were busy preparing for the assault all around her. When she spoke, her voice was broken, “Oh Andi…it’s…my sis- Biara. I can’t…she’s betrayed me. I can’t talk about it, I’m not supposed to but…I feel like my heart’s been torn out, like I have no one now.”

                The news shocked Andithiel; Biara had always been a loyal member of House Sunfire. He filed the information away in the back of his mind, realizing that Kyliska needed his support, “It’s…it’s okay, Kyli. I won’t tell anyone. And you’re not alone. You have me here. And the rest of the family. You’ll never be alone, okay? I’ll always be by your side.”

                Kyliska sniffled once more and then looked up at him, nodding glumly, “Thank you, Andi. I’m sorry. I know this is the worst time for this…we need to get started or we’ll run out of time.”

                Andithiel studied her for a moment and then nodded. Although she wasn’t in the best condition, they would not get another opportunity to do this and all of their forces were in place. He gave her shoulder a squeeze as best he could through her armor and then signaled to his own rangers. They emerged from the jungle line and quickly he gathered them around, beginning to detail the plans to them and to Kyliska’s Blood knights.

                This night General Morgaath Bloodmoon would walk free, or they would die trying. Honor demanded no less.

*********************************************************************

                Everything had been going according to plan, and the small Horde raiding force had made their way across a group of atolls until they reached Stormshield’s main landmass. Rather than attack across Ashran, they knew that their best bet would be to sneak into the fortification’s battlements in the night from a direction the Alliance would not be looking.

                At the base of the cliff upon which Stormshield’s prison hold sat, they carefully made their way through the scrub brushes and small bits of cover that would obscure them from sight. The crashing of the waves against the island covered any small sounds they would make, and it looked like all of the careful planning would pan out. At the head of the group, Andithiel spotted something in the darkness ahead and signaled behind him. Instantly, all of the Sin’dorei that had been moving dropped down and took cover, no one daring to breathe.

                Ahead of them on the shore, three nightsabers patrolled, the giant cats ridden by Night Elven Sentinels. The elves chatted amongst themselves, their cats padding through the soft sand as they continued along their patrol route; it was clear that the Alliance expected little in the way of an assault from the ocean, although they’d taken enough precautions to deploy Night Elves in the dark of night. The larger elves could see quite well in the darkness, and it put Andithiel’s and Kyliska’s men at a disadvantage. Fortunately, it looked as if the patrol was heading in the opposite direction, and would soon be out of sight, allowing them to continue on their way. Andithiel breathed a sigh of relief until he heard a barely suppressed grunt of rage coming from behind him.

                As he turned, it was all he could do to fall back on his haunches as Kyliska rose up from her hiding spot, a naked blade in her hand gleaming in the moonlight. In the most un-stealthy manner possible, she screamed at the top of her lungs, lunging across the sands in the blink of an eye.

                The first Sentinel died before she knew what hit her, Kyliska’s sword plunging into her side and killing her instantly. Her nightsaber growled, but without direction from its rider it quickly moved out of position, trying to escape the attacker on its side. The second Sentinel got her glaive up in time to block Kyliska’s first blow, the sound of metal clashing on metal ringing out. Kyliska screamed at the top of her lungs, bringing her sword down again and again, “FUCKING DIE NIGHT ELF BITCH! DIE DIE DIE!”

                Eventually Kyliska’s raging blows broke through the Night Elf’s defenses and she fell from her saddle, quite dead. Her nightsaber turned on Kyliska and died when an arrow struck it in the eye from Andithiel’s bow. Behind them, the rangers and Blood Knights surged forwards, trying to support the unexpected and wild attack Kyliska had started.

                Unfortunately for the group, the third Sentinel realized what was going on and, being the furthest away, spurred her nightsaber into a dash. While she fled, she brought a horn to her lips, signaling the alarm. Andithiel felt his heart sink as the clear note of the elven horn carried into the night and other horns took up the call higher up the hill.

                The plan had failed utterly, thanks to a reckless attack by Kyliska that made absolutely no sense to him…

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*Eldre’Thalas- within Biara’s sanctum*

                Biara stirred slowly from her slumber, a tinkling noise of magic coming to her through her sleep. Silver eyes opened slowly, taking in her surroundings. She was laying on her large bed, deep within the depths of Eldre’Thalas. Her sanctum there had been sealed away for centuries, the magical wards she’d placed on it keeping it safe from prying eyes. It had provided the perfect place to use as a safe haven as she planned her next steps.

                As her vision came into focus, she took in the form of the elf that was lying in bed next to her. Soft purple skin was covered by silken sheets, the elf’s long, cyan colored hair released from its twin pigtails and splayed out over the bed. Malandrae Moonwhisper slept soundly on her belly, the wounds on her back too painful to allow her to lay that way just yet.

                Biara lay there for a moment, watching her best friend slumber. She reached out, her hand touching Malandrae’s gently. The other elf slept on, as she had been doing for several days now. Her wounds had been severe and exhaustion had claimed her. Biara spent much of her time watching over the poor thing. The tinkling noise of magic came again and Biara’s head came up. She saw a small arcane familiar floating in the air beside the bed and frowned.

                Slowly so as not to disturb her sleeping friend, Biara rose from the bed, straightening out her robes and following the arcane familiar as it darted like a wisp through her sanctum. She trailed after it, heading into a circular chamber in the center of her little safe hold where she’d set up a scrying orb. She approached it, knowing that the familiar would only have come to her if there was an issue with one of the things she had instructed it to observe. With a quick gesture she brought the magic in the orb to life, her gaze taking in the vision before her.

                Kyliska and Andithiel fought a bloody battle on a beach near the Alliance stronghold of Stormshield. For a moment Biara found this surprising until she recalled the hastily planned mission to rescue General Bloodmoon. As Biara watched, the tiny figures within the orb dance and twirled in battle, blood staining the sands as more and more Alliance forces arrived to reinforce the defenders. In the middle of it all, Kyliska raged, her sword slick with the dark blood of Kaldorei, her attacks reckless as she dove into a group of Sentinels, mercilessly hacking at them and then hacking at their corpses when they fell.

                Sadness passed over Biara; she knew exactly why Kyliska was risking herself in such a manner. She was taking out her anger on people who had nothing to do with the true reason why she was hurting. Worse, the rescue plan had clearly failed; House Sunfire’s forces would be hurled back into the sea before too long. General Morgaath would remain a prisoner forever. Unless…

                Biara spoke a few soft words, the vision in her scrying orb changing and showing her other scenes. Scenes within the prison hold itself. A smile passed across her pale purple lips as a plan began to form.

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*Within the prison cell*

                The door to the cell opened slowly, the hinges squealing as they always did. Morgaath was startled from a half-doze, his head coming up in surprise as the door opened wide enough to admit the blonde-haired captain again. She turned, closing the door firmly behind her before walking slowly into the room. Morgaath immediately felt himself on edge; this was highly unusual. The human woman had never returned to question him twice in one day. She always usually had guards stationed outside the door when she came in and she certainly never walked in without some sort of snide remark.

                Instead, the blonde human walked slowly to the middle of the room, looking up at him with some hint of sadness in her blue eyes, a frown crossing over her features. When she spoke, it was with the captain’s voice, but the words, spoken in perfect orcish, were so wrong that Morgaath felt a chill up his spine. “General Bloodmoon, it pains me to see you like this.”

                For a moment, Morgaath simply stared at the woman as if she’d grown two heads. His mouth opened and closed for a minute before he actually responded, “You put me in this position. What kind of trickery is this? Do you think your sympathy will loosen my tongue?”

                The woman blinked for a minute and then smiled, snapping her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Pardon me.” She spoke a soft word and magic flared in the room. The woman’s features began to run, her face changing and elongating a little. Her hair turned red as if it had burst into flames, her eyes glowing with a faint green hue. After a moment more, the human captain was gone, and Biara Dayfire stood in the room before him.

For a moment Morgaath said nothing, studying the elven form and trying to determine if this was some new trick. There was something not entirely right about the elf, and after a moment Morgaath realized what it was; she was missing the glowing wards on her face. In their place, a faint scar marred her right cheek just beneath the eye. He glared at her critically, his voice like gravel, “How do I know this isn’t a trap?”

“The only ‘trap’ you have experienced, General, is in believing that the rest of your allies were clever enough to overcome the defenses of this prison. Fortunately, their failure has allowed me an ideal opportunity to slip in and complete the task,” Biara said.

Even as she spoke, she began to move, her hands coming up in the workings of a spell. Silently the base of the chains that held Morgaath up froze and then shattered, and he sighed with relief as his arm was finally freed from the awkward position. He slumped forward as Biara freed his other arm, nearly falling as his legs were almost too weak to support his weight. She came forward towards him to support him, and his arms shot out, his hands wrapping around her neck suddenly.

“How do I know that when I walk out this door, an ambush isn’t waiting for me?” Morgaath demanded angrily. “I will not be a patsy to some Alliance trick!”

Biara met his gaze evenly, her tone neutral, “If this were a trap, would I have put myself within your reach? Besides, you will not be walking out, I will be opening a portal for you. Release me so that I can do so.”

Morgaath stared at her for several long moments before finally nodding and releasing his grip. She rubbed her neck for a moment, offering him a smile, “I also need to ask something of you, General.”

“This is hardly the time or place-“ Morgaath began.

“This is the only time I have,” Biara interrupted. “I need you to swear something to me before you leave. Swear on your honor. Consider it a favor after I have rescued you here.”

“I’ve little time for your word games, Biara,” Morgaath stated evenly. “State your purpose clearly and I will judge if it is worthy of any oath.”

Biara nodded, “Very well General. It is only this; I wish you to watch over my sister, Kyliska. Protect her, both from her enemies and from herself. I…cannot go with you. I have things I must attend to and I will worry over her endlessly. Knowing that you will remain her ally, that you will be there should she and the Horde need you, will be an immense comfort to me in the days to come.”

Morgaath paused for several long moments, considering the words. He did not give his oath lightly, and when he did he upheld it to the very end. What Biara was asking was not too far-fetched however; it was simply to agree to protect another member of the Horde; something he would do anyway. He could look in on the younger Sunfire sister now and then, and she and Selenthiel had always been good allies. Finally, he nodded slowly, his tone stern, “I can agree to this. You have my oath that Kyliska will have my support.”

Biara breathed a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She smiled at Morgaath and nodded, “Thank you. It means everything to me to know that you will be there for her. Now I think it is more than beyond time for you to get home, General. I’m going to open a portal down to the beach below, where the rest of your allies are fighting. They will have the means to extract you. I wish you luck, and honor in battle.”

Her hands came up and a hole was torn open in the center of the prison cell, the portal glimmering and portending Morgaath’s coming freedom. He gave her one last long look before nodding, “Honor in battle to you as well, Magistrix.”

With that, Morgaath stepped through the portal and was gone. After it closed, Biara smiled, her features beginning to run again as she shed the disguise she’d kept for hundreds of years. A moment later a Highborne stood where she’d stood, her long silver hair partially covering half of her face, the pained expression there softening with a slight feeling of relief. A wicked smile parted her purple lips as her hands came up again, another spell beginning to build.

A few moments later the cell where Morgaath Bloodmoon was hiding would detonate with the force of a powerful blast, sending the defenders into chaos as they raced to see if their stronghold had been infiltrated from within. They would find no trace of their orc prisoner, their guard captain, or any elves who may or may not have been there. 

****************************************************************************

                On the beach, Andithiel was beginning to panic. Against all rational thought, Kyliska had continued to dive into what had become a massive pitched battle with the Alliance forces. Wherever there were Night Elves, she dove into the fray like some sort of beast, and it was all he could do to keep their lines firm as the onslaught continued.

                The air beside him shimmered and his eyes widened as a portal opened beside him. From it came the figure of an old orc, his body marked with the wounds of his captivity and wearing little more than a loincloth and a grin. Andithiel blinked in surprise as the orc roared, “I’m free you bastards! You’ll never take me alive again!”

                “G-general…Bloodmoon?” Andithiel managed to sputter out.

                “In the flesh,” Morgaath replied with a toothy grin. “I see you’ve got yourself quite the battle here.”

                “Unfortunately so, General,” Andithiel replied. “But with you free, we can get out of here before we lose too many more men.”

                “Just so,” Morgaath said, his eyes scanning over the battlefield. They widened when he saw a few of the Sin’dorei in the middle of battle. “Quick, I need a sword or an ax!”

                Andithiel blinked in surprise, handing Morgaath his own sword as he brought his other hand up, sending a magical signal through an amulet he wore. Far away, back in Quel’Thalas, Tyavel would receive the signal and begin opening the evacuation portals near Andithiel’s position. As he turned to gaze at the battle, he saw Morgaath wading into the fray, the sword slaughtering Night Elves left and right around him. He made it to the thickest part of the fighting before plunging his sword into a Sentinel Captain’s chest, letting the weapon fall away before stooping down to retrieve something.

                Behind Andithiel, portals began to burst open as Tyavel’s magi opened up the escape route. Morgaath waded back from the battle even as Andithiel’s rangers began to sound the retreat. To Andithiel’s ever-lasting surprise, he saw that Morgaath held Kyliska’s unconscious form in his arms, her body ravaged with numerous small wounds but her chest rising and falling regularly showing that she still lived.

                Andithiel breathed a small sigh of relief, waving his men on. Morgaath darted past him and into one of the waiting portals, more rangers and Blood Knights following. Within moments the Horde raiders had fallen back upon the portals, and the Alliance defenders were hesitant to follow them given the number of casualties they had already suffered. Andithiel turned, the last of his men to leave, his heart heavy with the number of still forms they were leaving behind on the beach. So many lost, and all for a single General. Hopefully Morgaath would prove to be worth the effort in the days to come, but given his demonstration of ferocity even after being a captive, it seemed likely that would be the case.

                Andithiel sighed again, stepping through the portal and disappearing, leaving the bloody sands behind as the Horde raid retreated back to friendly territory, triumphant in the end.

Beyond the Gates

They were in big trouble. Andithiel’s experience with battle told him that much at a quick glance. The Sin’dorei scouts he had been leading had stumbled into more trouble than they had expected to run into and now he had to quickly find a way to extract them from the situation.

The original plan had been to sneak through the outer regions of Tanaan in order to approach Ashran from a direction that would be least observed by alliance forces. His team would scout out the coastline of the island for a suitable landing site and then there would be a mission planned to rescue the orc general Morgaath Bloodmoon. Kyliska would join him with her own forces once he signaled her with the rest of the equipment, the two groups moving separately so as not to attract attention.

The issue had come when they’d had to delve further into the jungles than he’d cared for in order to avoid Iron Horde patrols. The orcs had become increasingly aggressive as they dabbled in fel powers and it was all he and his scouts could do to avoid detection. They’d come too close in to Hellfire Citadel where battles raged between the forces of the Horde, the Alliance, and the fel orcs that sought to push them back, and his team had run into an encampment of fel-weavers that had been busy opening portals into the nether.

Smoke obscured his vision as he brought his bow up, an arrow flying true and striking a wrathguard in the eye. The diffused sunlight of the clearing caused the gold and green armor covering Andithiel’s rock-hard form to glitter dimly as he moved, another arrow appearing on the bowstring as easily as he drew breath. Unfortunately, the way things were going right now it was likely he would not be drawing too many more. He let loose with another arrow, many of the fifteen-man company he had with him also releasing their own shafts. Demons fell all around them, but there were ever more pouring through the rifts that the warlocks had opened; too many to cut through to reach the spellcasters.

If they fell back, the demons would fall on them enmasse from the rear. If they advanced, they would be surrounded and butchered. House Sunfire couldn’t afford to lose this many scouts, and he certainly was not going to allow his position to be tarnished with a failure. And so he and his men were in a stalemate, endlessly firing their weapons until they ran out of arrows or the rifts ran out of demons. He was fairly certain he knew which would happen first and a grimace crossed his features beneath his helm. He heaved on the bow again, drawing it back and letting an arrow loose with enough force to pierce the heart of an armored demon that had almost reached their lines; time was running short and the creatures were starting to scatter into the jungle around them in order to encircle the small band of scouts.

One of his men fell, a spell slamming into the green and gold armor that the ranger wore as camouflage and to protect himself. Andithiel cursed aloud as the Sin’dorei fell to the ground; every death was his fault for leading his men into this trap. He quickly dashed forward to stand over the fallen elf, putting himself at the front of his men and firing repeatedly to drive the demons back.

They surged forward towards him, talons and blades dripping with dark magics, ready to tear him asunder. Even as he fought on, he prepared to sell his life dearly for his men and for Quel’Thalas; it was what his sisters would expect of him, what he expected of himself, especially after all that had transpired in the past few months. He would die a hero of the Sin’dorei, standing his ground for his fellow rangers.

A commotion erupted along the outskirts of the demonic line and to Andithiel’s left. A wrathguard reeled into the edge of the clearing, half of its armor crushed in on one side. A second demon followed it, this one utterly lifeless and bouncing to the ground beside it. Several of the attackers facing Andithiel turned to face what could only be a new threat and he quickly took advantage of the situation, rapidly firing his bow and felling three more of the creatures in quick succession before he quickly cast a glance in the direction of the clearing’s edge.

To his surprise, a figure wearing dark black armor with red trim had appeared, an almost black shortsword in its hand driving into the bowels of another of the demons and causing it to howl as it was thrown down. A second demon lunged only to be bodily slammed against the surface of a black and red shield, the creature tumbling dazed to the ground where a heavy armored boot stamped on its neck. In his quick glance Andithiel could see the flowing black and red tabard of a blood knight, flashes of light so bright coming from the figure’s hands that it almost made his eyes water.

Instantly the demons turned as a group towards this source of Light, their attention shifting from the rangers in a heartbeat. Andithiel felt his pulse race as he realized that his men had a chance to escape, but something inside him stirred as he watched that armored form brace itself against the coming tide of demonic filth. In that moment, he knew that his months of moping, of being lost in himself had come to an end. He brought his bow up and shouted, signaling the attack even as he let loose.

Arrows flew past him, and demons tumbled to their deaths even as they charged the blood knight. 

The armored figure met the first wrathguard with a shield to its face, the blood knight’s body not giving an inch from the impact as an explosion of Light hurled the creature aside. Silently, with no warcry or other utterance the black-armored figure advanced, black sword coming down on another demon’s skull and shield deflecting what would have been a fatal blow.

Andithiel’s rangers continued to fire, picking off demons that had their backs turned as they charged the blood knight, causing the attack to become scattered and disorganized. Quickly Andithiel darted forward, his arrows lashing out as he made his way towards the other end of the clearing where the orc spellcasters continued their summoning. He was almost close enough to pick them off, and would have too if not for a new tide of demons that surged from the edge of the clearing, washing over his men where they’d been preparing an ambush at his flank. Andithiel cursed again as two more of his rangers fell and then was forced to duck as a black spell flew over his head.

As he righted himself a huge demon loomed over him, the beast’s hands clutching a giant, fel-runed ax. It swung the weapon and Andithiel was forced to leap to the side to avoid the blow, but even that did not fully save him as magic flared from the weapon’s head when it contacted the ground, his body buffeted by raging fel energies that hurled him onto his back and knocked the bow from his hand.

For a moment the world spun around him, the fel-tainted sky far above and the branches of the jungle’s trees looming over him. A shadow fell over him as he looked up into the face of the demon, its weapon raised high above it and about to come down in the death blow. He closed his eyes, not wishing to see it descend and too dazed to rise.

A moment later a clash of metal on metal startled him. His eyes darted open to see the etched red emblem of the Blood Knights above him, a shield held over his head having caught the ax and deflected it away. The armored figure stood over him, his…no her body positioned to protect his prone form from the demon. He watched in dazed amazement as the elf’s sword plunged forward, the short blade perfect for stabbing beneath the edge of the shield and glowing with holy energies. The demon howled as it tore deep into its flesh, the Blood Knight twisting it with lethal efficiency that Andithiel would expect from a seasoned warrior.

As the creature fell back and away, the Blood Knight shifted, her body moving forward. Andithiel caught the brief sight of paper prayers affixed to her armor with blood red wax fluttering as she advanced, always silent beneath the coif, efficiently deadly as she summoned more Light than Andithiel had seen other knights like Kyliska use. Demons died around her, falling in piles that she had to step over, but there were always more, and Andithiel knew that this was their one and only chance to win the battle.

He forced himself to rise, his hands reaching out and snatching up his bow as he crouched down, aiming just past the black armored form of his unlikely rescuer, his arrows lashing out and striking down demons so she could move forward more quickly, towards the source of the attack; the demonic rifts.

His heart rose as she got closer, but his hopes were dashed again as spells lashed out from the orcs, black magics slamming into the armored form and hurling her back, despite her shield. She fell amidst the dead demons she’d been slaughtering, her body clattering as it met the sundered metal that littered the ground. Above them winged demons dived down, intent on finishing the rangers and the lone Blood Knight, and Andithiel’s bow rose, arrows flying up and picking them out of the sky despite the fact that they were utterly surrounded and he knew they were likely doomed.

He glanced back down, reaching back to find his quiver nearly empty. He placed one of his last arrows on his bowstring, prepared to make it count as a wrathguard charged over the fallen towards him. Even as he was about to release a sword came up from amongst the dead and impale it.

She rose from the dead like an avenging spirit, Light so bright that it slanted down from the sky surrounding her as she cut the demon down. Her coif had been knocked free, and Andithiel could see what he would consider a plain looking Sin’dorei with auburn hair. A bloody gash covered her face, and strange black and red ribbons held her hair in place as she bent and retrieved her shield, the emblem of her order glimmering now with the blood of her foes.

She turned and advanced, her sword lashing out again, light so powerful that burned demons to ash erupting from the tip of her sword and her hands. Andithiel spent his last arrows slaying demons that tried to flank her, his heart in his throat as he quite literally prayed for her.

Like a methodical machine she slaughtered her way through the demons like a farmer scything down his wheat. They screamed, they bled, they burned, and then they began to flee from her. Spells lashed out at her again, but this time she was prepared and a globe of golden Light surrounded her, deflecting the magic into the ground and causing dirt to erupt from the impact. She surged forward the last few feet, her shield lashing out and taking one of the spellcasters in the face.

As he flew lifelessly away from her, the portal he’d opened began to fade, and her sword lashed out, impaling a second and then hacking down a third, the rest of the magical portals erupting with fel energy as her Light clashed too near them, causing them to sputter and die a moment later.

And then it was silent, the demons that had been summoned fleeing from the clearing, leaving Andithiel and his five remaining rangers alone with the lone Blood Knight.

As they gathered around him, he turned and faced the Blood Knight, moving towards her as she inspected the fallen spellcasters. He cleared his throat behind her, “I owe you my thanks.”

“You owe me nothing, I was merely doing what I was trained to do,” the Blood Knight responded, still examining the fallen orcs.

“Even so, without your help my men would not have fought free. You’ve helped us with our mission and you have the thanks of House Sunfire, my Lady,” Andithiel said politely.

The elf turned to look at him, her fel green gaze meeting his. For a moment she studied him silently, giving him time to inspect her more closely. As he’d seen, her hair was indeed tied with ribbons, more of the strange seals in place. She was like a walking prayer book, and based on the amount of Light she’d summoned it was not overly surprising that she’d be covered with holy sigils. And although she was plain, she was still pretty enough, especially given what she’d just done for him. 

Finally, she broke the silence, an amused smile passing briefly across her lips, “I am no ‘lady’. I am Blood Knight Serephae Sunleaf, and it is my duty to serve our people until my dying breath.”

Andithiel offered her a nod and a smile of his own, “That you have, Knight Sunleaf. I will be sure to report your aid to my superiors. Lady Sunfire will reward you handsomely for your aid.”

“I can accept no reward for my services,” Serephae returned quickly, “My vows do not allow for that.”

Andithiel nodded at this and then shrugged, “Well then, when next we are both in Silvermoon perhaps I can repay you with a meal or some such.”

She studied him again for a moment and then looked away, “I cannot accept any form of payment, but thank you. If you will excuse me, I must depart.”

He blinked for a moment as she turned and wiped her blade clean on the nearest dead orc, sheathing it and putting her coif back in place, “Depart? We’re in the middle of now-demon infested jungle. You should come with us. Besides, you were wounded in that scrap.”

Serephae turned, the look she gave him having a wealth of experience that implied the wounds she’d 

suffered were nothing compared to the trials she’d faced before. She moved away from him as she spoke, looking into the jungle beyond, “The demons will come for your men again once they realize there are not many of you left. Depart now and continue on your way and I will ensure they do not follow you. This is my duty, and what I’ve sworn to do. Go now, and do not waste any more time.”

Andithiel stared after her for a moment, shaking his head, “Hey, will I run into you again, Knight Sunleaf?”

She turned, giving him one last glance from beneath her chain coif, “No, nor will you see any demons. Lead your men to safety, and may the gates of Quel’Thalas open for you always.”

Andithiel bowed, giving her a salute before turning to gather up his rangers; he would continue and complete his mission, regardless of the cost. General Bloodmoon would be rescued. As they moved away from the site of the battle he cast one last glance back, knowing as he did so that the clearing would be empty of all but the dead. He smiled to himself as he realized the scattered demons in the jungle beyond had little time to organize themselves before doom came to them. The cycle of life and all that; it was time to complete his mission.