The Damage of Desolace

“Have the results of the scrying come back?” Rel’in demanded impassively when his assistant entered the room.

“Yes, Master,” the human said, sniveling and bowing.

“Enough of that,” Rel’in said coldly, waving off the customary formalities. His people may call him a traitor but he still held to the old ways, when convenient. “Make your report.”

“It seems that rumors of Veryl’s charms were greatly exaggerated,” the assistant said lamely. Cringing at the flash of irritation in his master’s eyes, he made his report hastily. “It was a woman who killed him. Cut him to shreds with her dagger. Not an assassin,” he said, seeing his master open his mouth to ask, “one of our kind. Or, rather, one of your kind.”

“And what would an elven woman be doing sneaking into our library? Has the inventory been completed? Do we know what she stole?”

“Yes, Master. She took the ‘Tome of the Cabal.’”

“I see,” Rel’in said stiffly. “Send word to the other covens with her description. Have them keep an eye out for this elven woman. Find out how she managed to infiltrate our upper floors and have the guards who let her through flogged. Veryl may have tolerated your lack of discipline and your laziness, but, by Sargeras, I won’t!”

“It will be as you command, Master. What orders shall I send out concerning the woman, should she be found?”

“That she is to be captured alive and sent to me. I will show her what we do to a trespassing thief myself. Now leave. You are dismissed.”

The human bowed his way out of his master’s presence, wiping sweat from his forehead once he was well out of the room.

“How did he take it, Ragnar?” an orc woman asked, cringing at the mere thought of their new master.

“Surprisingly well. Find out the names of the guards on duty on the upper levels that night, Gazrah. He wants them flogged for dereliction of duty.”

“He wants to flog demons? Does he know just how barely under control we have them? Ever since the…” the orc asked, confused.

“No, but I’m not going to be the one to tell him that Veryl had us using demons as guards on the upper levels. Make up a name, pick someone at random, I don’t care. Just let’s find someone to for him to use to slake his temper. He makes my skin crawl!”

“We could kill him,” Gazrah suggested in a soft whisper.

“They’d just send another to replace him. Titans take me, where does the Legion keep finding these blasted elves? Speaking of which, let me tell you about the one who broke into our library.”

“He must have been a skilled thief,” Gazrah said simply. Ragnar sighed. No matter how long orcs studied the Art, they would never be known for their brilliant deductive reasoning.

“He is actually a she. And she is actually an elf. She’s about my height, blonde, straight hair that hangs to just about here,” he said, raising a hand about halfway between his jaw and shoulder. “She’s got those glowing green eyes that scream ‘blood elf’ from across the continent. Her face looks like a she-fox’s, but then, all elf faces look like that. Pass her description around to everyone,” he muttered, “I’ve got to send it off to the other covens. Oh, and, he wants her alive.”

“I see,” Gazrah grunted. Without another word, she turned on her heel to begin spreading the intruder’s description amongst the members of the coven in Desolace. If Rel’in wanted the thief alive, she and Ragnar needed to be certain she reached him alive if they wished to remain alive themselves. Inwardly, the orc woman shuddered. If Rel’in wanted the thief alive, it was only because he planned to make her beg for death. Veryl may have been a twisted and sadistic son of a bitch, but Rel’in’s tender mercies would have even the most hardened whore swearing celibacy before the night was over.

Provided, of course, she survived.

~*~*~*~

“Ger’alin, let her sleep!” Callie muttered when she saw the elf start to sneak over to clap his hands in front of Alayne’s face to wake her. “It’s so much easier on us if she’s out cold when we have to fly.”

“If you wake her, you get to ride with her,” Zerith warned. “And see these?” he said, lifting one of his sister’s hands up so that Ger’alin could get a good look at it. “They may look like ordinary fingers and fingernails to you but – if you’re smart, you’ll just take my word for it –they are really the Legendary Claws of Doom in disguise.”

“Fine, fine. Have it your way,” Ger’alin said. “I was just hoping to make her laugh a little before we all head off for Desolace. I sent the others on with the mounts hours ago. If we take a flight now, we should just beat them to ShadowpreyVillage.”

“Did you get a look at the mounts they are giving us?” Zerith asked. “What are they like?”

“Oh, I didn’t pay much attention to them,” Ger’alin answered. “The handlers said that they were all battle-trained. Unfortunately, none of us has much practice with mounted combat. I have just enough to be able to tell you that it is nothing at all like fighting on the ground. Anyway, I will say this; the mounts match our group quite well. A rather diverse mix, just like us. You’ll get to see them when we get to Shadowprey.”

“Well, let’s get going, then,” the priest said as he lifted Alayne up and began to walk towards the wyvern roosts.

“Here, Zerith, I’ll take her,” Ger’alin offered. “I know you’d rather share a wyvern with Dar’ja,” he whispered, giving the priest a conspiratorial wink.

“Thank you, but no,” Zerith said, his face flushing. “Your offer is…most welcome but I would not inflict the risk of Alayne wakening while in mid-air on my worst enemy, let alone you, my friend.”

“The sacrifices you make for your sister,” Ger’alin grinned. “I hope she appreciates them. Well then, as you said, let’s get going.”

~*~*~*~

“Not back there. Anywhere but back there,” Alayne pleaded. “Don’t make me go back to where he…where I…just don’t make me go back there!” she screamed, tears running down her face.

What? A warlock who’s afraid?

“Oh, not you again,” she shouted. “Who are you and why won’t you leave me alone?”

You know who I am.

In the distance of the dreamscape ahead, Alayne could see a misty figure wavering and solidifying, transforming from nothing into substance. Moving closer, she watched the mist coalesce into a sin’dorei woman dressed in the same kind of armor Alayne’s father had worn into his last battle. An ornate hilt rose over her left shoulder, attesting to the blade strapped to her back. Alayne moved closer, peering up into the dream-woman’s face. Her eyes widened in shock and she shrieked when her own face stared back at her, her own eyes meeting hers, dull, lifeless, and cold. She could still hear her other self’s laughter as she clawed her way to wakefulness.

“Hey, stop thrashing around so much or you’ll fall off!” she heard Zerith call out. The sound of rushing wind filled her ears and she thought she felt a harsh breeze stinging her eyes. Opening them, she looked up and saw Zerith looking down at her. “Oh no,” he moaned. “Why couldn’t you stay asleep for just another five minutes?”

Alayne blinked at him in confusion. Then, she clutched at him wildly when the ground beneath them gave way, dipping violently. Alayne buried her face in her brother’s chest, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and tried very hard not to scream at the top of her lungs when she realized that the ground had not dipped; the wyvern she was riding on had. Zerith gritted his teeth and focused on ignoring the fact that her nails were digging into his back. “She’s scared to death of flying,” he reminded himself again and again. “Aviophobia is a common fear. Nothing to worry over or get angry about.”

After a few more minutes, the wyvern spiraled down and landed near the roost at ShadowpreyVillage. Zerith managed to dismount, dragging Alayne off with him, and waited for the others to land.

“You can open your eyes now. We’re on nice, solid ground,” he whispered desperately, the pain of her nails digging into his shoulders bringing tears to his eyes. Once Alayne had ascertained that they were, indeed, no longer flying, she let Zerith set her on the ground.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered contritely.

“Apology accepted if you’ll promise to trim those claws of yours before we have to fly again. If you want to make up for it, you could tell me what’s bothering you, Alayne. I’m really worried about you. You haven’t been yourself for a while now.” He sighed when Alayne just looked more uncomfortable. “At least tell me what you were dreaming about that had you whimpering and thrashing about when we were in mid-air.”

Alayne glanced around with a sigh. Part of her wanted to confess to everything, to pile it all on his shoulders and cower in his embrace. Part of her wanted to hold it in until she developed the strength of mind to deal with it herself. Back and forth the argument raged within her. She sighed and shook her head as if to clear it. Zerith would no doubt think she had been driven mad if she told him of the voices. And, he might think she had brought rough treatment on herself during her test. After all, he had approved of her past working in a tavern about as much as her mother had. Shreds of her terrifying dream still clung to her, freezing her tongue.

“There you are!” Dar’ja called out as she hurried up the path to them, cutting Alayne off before she could argue herself into or out of talking. “Oh,” the elven woman said, blushing, “am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Alayne said cheerfully, her smile masking the relief and irritation mixing within her. “I was just going to tell Zerith that we should stay clear of the area called Mannoroc Coven. Jez’ral told me that a bunch of cultists have taken over the ruins there. They’re followers of the Burning Legion, meaning ‘insane.’ I’ll…let you two chat for a bit. I’m…going to go see what…the others are up to,” she babbled, turning back down the path and heading towards the crowds.

“What did I interrupt?” Dar’ja asked guiltily.

“Nothing,” Zerith sighed. “Sadly nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Dar’ja said. “I can go back and get her and leave you two alone to talk, if you want.”

“I don’t think it would do any good, but I thank you for the offer,” Zerith smiled. “Now, what did you want us for? Are you feeling better? How’s your head?”

“I’m fine. That tea you gave me did the trick. You must come see the mounts. Ger’alin and Tau’re have started assigning them out and I thought you and Alayne might want to pick yours out before the best ones are all taken.”

“Then let’s get going,” he chuckled, letting her loop her arm through his as they hurried to the outskirts of the village. The mishmash of people who formed the Disorder of Azeroth were going through the motions of saddling whatever mount had been set aside for them. Tauren worked to loop girdles around wide-bellied kodos while orcs and trolls coaxed wolves and raptors to accept the bits of bridles. Elves and Forsaken climbed aboard the backs of hawkstriders, horses, or skeletal horses. Ger’alin stood, the reins of a warhorse in his hands, giving directions on how to form ranks that could barely be heard over the cacophony. Glancing up, he saw Zerith and Dar’ja approaching. Waving to them, he shouted something over his shoulder. As the two drew closer, they could see Alayne tugging on the reins of a warhorse much like the one Ger’alin led. Standing near her was a hawkstrider. Ger’alin rolled his eyes and, with a muttered “Hold these, please,” to Dar’ja as he thrust the reins of his horse in her direction, walked over to help the warlock out. Zerith and Dar’ja tried not to laugh as Alayne and Ger’alin engaged in what could only have been an argument about how to get the horse to move. Unable to hear what the pair were saying over the din, they could only imagine what words were accompanying the florid gestures the paladin and the warlock made. Finally, Ger’alin said something that made Alayne stop with a start. Then, with a laugh, she threw the reins at him and picked up those belonging to the hawkstrider.

“Okay, you win,” Zerith heard Alayne say to Ger’alin as the pair came closer, leading the animals.

“Consider it your lesson for the day,” the fighter smiled. Turning to Dar’ja, he took back the reins he’d given her earlier, passing her those of the horse that had been giving Alayne trouble. “When I saw this beauty, I just knew it was for you,” he said smoothly. Dar’ja cocked an eyebrow at him, not sure quite how to take that. “He’s strong, well-trained, dedicated…”

“…and stubborn,” Alayne laughed. Ger’alin shot her a look that would have nailed any other person to the wall. “Callie told me what you said.”

“Yes, thank you, Callie,” Ger’alin muttered beneath his breath. “Anyway, he’s good. My word of honor on it. A little head-strong but good nonetheless.”

“Thank you, Ger’alin,” Dar’ja said warmly. Ger’alin did a double-take but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“This one’s for you,” Alayne said, handing the reins of the hawkstrider to Zerith. “She’s sweet.”

“Thank you, I think,” he muttered, eyeing the bird warily. “Mind telling me how I’m supposed to get up there?” he whispered to Alayne. He’d had to whisper loudly to be heard over the roar of the crowd around them.

“I’ll show you how,” Dar’ja offered. Alayne grinned at her and stepped aside. “First, you just put your hand here,” the paladin said as she took Zerith’s hand and lifted it to the hawkstrider’s neck. “Just press a little to signal that you want her to let you mount. See?” she said, as the bird bent its knees, lowering its body closer to the ground. “Now, you just put one foot in the stirrup and swing your other leg over. I’ll hold the reins while you do that.”

Praying that he wouldn’t fall off or get tangled in his robes while climbing up, Zerith managed to get aboard his mount without too many problems. Dar’ja flipped the reins over the hawkstrider’s neck and mounted her warhorse, bringing it next to Zerith. “I think I’ll call him ‘Sunstrider,’” she said, patting her warhorse’s neck. “What will you name her?” she asked, pointing to the hawkstrider.

“Um…El’a,” he said. “What? That was the name of my family’s pet cat!”

“It’s a nice name,” Dar’ja said soothingly. “What about you, Ger’alin? What name will you give your distinguished partner in battle?”

Shooting her a wicked grin, he leapt into the saddle of his warhorse. “His name is ‘Lucky.’”

Alayne, Zerith, and Ger’alin roared with laughter at the outraged look on her face.

“Okay, enough horsing around,” Ger’alin said once he’d finished laughing. “Let’s try to form ranks so that we can at least move around without trampling everyone.”

~*~*~*~

Alayne collapsed into the pool, her legs feeling like jelly. “I wish there were a hot spring somewhere close by,” she muttered as she massaged her aching thighs. The cold salty water of the ocean didn’t do much to relax her tired and stiff muscles. A full day of drilling following an entire evening of watching most people try to figure out how to control their mounts would make even the most dedicated equestrienne eager to fall out of the saddle.

Gritting her teeth as she washed away the sweat and dirt, she rose from the water, hurried back to the shore, and donned her nightgown. Cringing as she mince-stepped back to the camp she, Dar’ja, and Callie had set up, she crawled into her sleeping bag, idly wondering where Dar’ja was. Zerith had sent Callie off earlier that evening to go speak with the centaur clans, to test the waters for a possible alliance with some of them.

Rolling on her side, she stared into the flames dancing and licking at the wood. Shifting, she pulled herself and her roll closer to the heat, letting it seep into her and melt away some of the soreness. Forcing her eyes to stay open, afraid to sleep, Alayne lay there, letting idle thoughts roam through her tired mind.

“I wonder where Dar’ja is…Ger’alin’s been absolutely merciless; where did he figure out so much about mounted formations? Light, I hate riding a trot…cantering is so much smoother. I wonder what Zerith will plan for us here. He’s been pre-occupied with so many things since we came here. I’m sick of eating fish…”

She bit down hard when she heard the mocking laughter that had flogged her spirit for days now. “Go away.”

Why do you fear me?

“Because you are not me.”

But I am. I am Tal’ar’s daughter.

“You don’t know anything about my father or my mother. Shut up.”

I am you, little fool. I know everything about you.

“Not listening,” Alayne whispered as she tried to force the voice away.

I know how you want to fight; to bring honor and glory to your name. I know how you want to protect those around you. I know how you feel whenever you fail. If you continue down the path you’re on, you will fail, little Alayne. Stop fighting me and embrace me! I can save everyone!

“I will not fail. Not again,” she argued. The vision of Stromgarde; of Zerith falling, an arrow sticking out of his chest, floated before her eyes. “That’s low,” she muttered, dashing tears from her eyes. The vision continued. She saw the other woman, her other self, striding into the human city and melting it to the ground.

I saved you then. I brought Zerith’s attackers to justice. I can keep him safe if you’ll let me, little fool. Him and Callie and Ger’alin and Dar’ja and everyone else! Just let me do it!

Alayne stared sightlessly into the fire, unable to respond.

I can save them; I can save you. Or, have you forgotten this?

Alayne shuddered as the face of the man she’d murdered floated in front of her eyes. Clenching her teeth, she tried to ignore it; tried to ignore the mocking laughter that rang in her ears. She stared straight ahead, willing herself to neither see nor hear, her eyes burning and watering with the effort.

“Alayne?” Dar’ja asked as she limped up the path. “Asleep already? Ah well. Pleasant dreams, Alayne,” the paladin whispered as she crawled into her own roll and fell asleep. When she awoke the next morning, Alayne had not moved an inch.

~*~*~*~

Callie climbed out of her saddle and tried to ease some of the stiffness. She could see many others moving as gingerly as she was, unaccustomed to being in the saddle for very long. They had been in Desolace two days now and Ger’alin had been drilling them in mounted combat mercilessly. He was one of the few striding through the crowd, back straight, legs unbowed. Even Alayne, who had grown up riding out with her neighbors in Menethil, moved stiffly.

“You’re enjoying this,” Callie accused Ger’alin as he passed by her.

“A few more days and you’ll be fine,” Ger’alin said confidently. “We’re almost ready to ride out and do some damage.”

“I know. Any clue where Zerith is? I just got back from the outpost with the information he wanted.”

“I was just going to speak with him myself. Come with me; I believe he’s taking his ease at the inn.”

The two walked down the road, Ger’alin pausing every so often to offer advice or criticism to one of their followers. Soon, they entered the rickety wooden and thatch inn and found Zerith sitting at a table poring over the notes and maps he had been given in Tarren Mill.

“Planning our operation, chief?” Callie asked glibly.

“Trying to, at any rate. At least if I’m focused on this, I don’t notice how much it hurts to move,” the priest muttered, glaring at Ger’alin.

“I have the information you requested. The Magram and the Gelkis centaur clans are amendable to peace. However, not only do they want the Kolkar and the Maurdine wiped out; each one wants the other eradicated as well.”

“About what I suspected,” Zerith sighed, stifling a groan as he shifted his weight. “I wonder if we could make a truce with both of them temporarily.”

“From what I saw, I don’t think that’s very likely,” Callie answered. “Raiding each other’s camps is what they do for entertainment. Singing songs about the glories of war and death to their enemies is what passes for culture. Ger’alin would fit right in,” she teased.

“What do you think of them, Callie?”

“Me personally?” the Forsaken asked.

“Yes,” Zerith responded. “You’ve spent time with both of the clans. Of the two, which one do you think would make the best ally?”

“I honestly don’t know. The Gelkis are close by so having them angry at us would not be a good idea. The Magram, though, are a power to be reckoned with as well. I say that we just try to avoid getting involved in their inter-clan dispute altogether.”

“Well, our mission kind of is to get involved,” he muttered, handing her the orders he’d received. “We’re to put an end to the centaur threat from Desolace for good. That means driving out any who won’t ally with us and forging ties with those who will. We’ll have to pick one of the two. For now, let’s focus on cleaning out the other two: the Kolkar and the Maurdine. At least we know they aren’t interested in any alliance.”

“I just got back from speaking with the scouts we sent to the mountain passes,” Ger’alin said, taking that as a signal from Zerith to begin his report. “They say that…” he trailed off as Alayne and Dar’ja limped into the main room.

“Callie!” Alayne said brightly. “I heard you’d come back.”

“Good afternoon, Alayne,” Callie returned.

“I want to ask a favor of you,” Alayne said. Zerith and Ger’alin glanced at each other in confusion. Alayne and Dar’ja ignored both of them and bent over, whispering in the Forsaken woman’s ears.

“Sure,” the Forsaken laughed. “Sounds like fun. Let’s go.”

The three women limped out of the inn, laughing and talking in an undertone where the two men couldn’t hear. Zerith waited until he figured they would be out of eye shot and then limped over to the doorway and glanced up and down the road, looking for signs of which way they went.

“Going to spy on the Sisterhood?” Ger’alin asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I’ll come with you. I’ve always wondered what they’re doing when they go off by themselves like that. Besides,” he continued, “I’ll give you my report while we follow them.”

~*~*~*~

“I think they went the other way,” Zerith muttered.

“No, see that? That’s definitely Alayne’s shoeprint.”

“How under the Light can you tell that?”

“Because she wears moccasins. And, she’s the only person wearing them who would be walking in phase with two people wearing boots,” he said, pointing to the tracks. “Did you never go out in the woods as a boy?”

“I was a little too busy with my studies,” Zerith said defensively. “We can’t all be wilderness survivors like you. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you spent any time out of the forests. Not that I’m complaining. Much. Your knowledge has come in quite handy on many occasions,” he babbled nervously. Mischief-making had never been his strongest trait and the priest did not want to wind up back on square one with Dar’ja.

“Sssh,” Ger’alin hissed, cutting Zerith off. Turning his head and cupping an hand to his ear, he listened. “They’re just around the bend. Be quiet.”

The two men tiptoed up the stone path, careful not to make a sound. Reaching the curve, they peered around cautiously, not wanting to be seen.

“My word,” Ger’alin breathed. Zerith said nothing, just gawking at the sight. Up ahead, Dar’ja was teaching Alayne some of the finer points of hand-to-hand combat. Callie stood on the sidelines, offering the occasional tip to the novice fighter. The two elven women would circle each other, looking for an opening, Dar’ja giving the odd lesson on what to look for or when to move and how while she flipped Alayne over her shoulder or tripped the warlock up.

“If we could just get them to do this in the middle of town and charge admission,” Ger’alin muttered, “we would be rich.”

“Ger’alin!” Zerith said hoarsely, scandalized.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Reverend Father,” the fighter said sarcastically. “You know you were thinking the exact same thing.”

“I was not!” Zerith protested, a blush rising to his face.

“Yes, you were. That’s why your face has gone scarlet.”

“It has not! Don’t project your twisted fantasies on to me. Besides, one of them is my sis…ter…” he trailed off as he noticed motion in his peripheral vision. Turning his head, he saw the three women staring up at him, their faces perfect expressions of outrage. All three stood with hands on hips, one knee cocked, feet tapping. “I…we…um…” Zerith started, searching for an explanation that wouldn’t put him further in the dog house with the girls.

“Zerith,” Ger’alin said between clenched teeth, “shut up and run!” the fighter said as he suited words to action.

~*~*~*~

Davril and Tau’re shuffled up the dirt road towards the inn after another practice session with their mixed group of magi and fighters. Alayne and Zerith’s innovations had inspired their creativity into forming a squad who excelled in mixing magic and steel in close-quarter combat. Thus far, while their efforts had been less than stellar, the Forsaken and Tauren were both cautiously optimistic that it could be done.

“What is that?” Davril asked, pointing to the dust cloud racing towards them. Seconds later, he and Tau’re were picking themselves up off the ground.

“Why were Ger’alin and Zerith running so hard? Is there an attack coming?” Tau’re asked just as the answer crested the hill in hot pursuit. He and Davril threw themselves out of the way as two elven women and a Forsaken ran down the street waving fists and shouting at the top of their lungs.

“Ah, to be young again,” Davril said, a smile on his lips as he watched the chase.

~*~*~*~

“Climb! Climb!” Ger’alin shouted as he jumped into a tree. “They can’t reach us up here! They’re too short!”

Zerith pulled himself up into the tree behind Ger’alin, clutching at the trunk for support while he found his footing and tried to catch his breath. The three women skidded to a halt beneath the tree, glaring up into the branches in frustration. Then, brightening, Callie and Dar’ja boosted Alayne up so she could grab at one of the lower branches.

“Oh, this is bad,” Ger’alin said. “This is really bad.”

As Alayne tried to pull herself up on the branch, the limb snapped, dropping her onto the two women below her and knocking all of them to the ground. Blinking, somewhat stunned by the fall, the girls tried to collect themselves for another effort. However, the humorous nature of the situation struck them and soon all three were rolling on the ground beneath the tree, laughing and pointing up to the two elven men still seeking sanctuary in its branches. Every time one of them would begin to wind down, they would just glance up and be gripped by laughter once again.

“We’d like to discuss a truce,” Zerith shouted down once it seemed like the girls’ laughter was drawing to a close. His request set off another round of mirth, leaving him looking down in consternation. He opened his mouth to say he was coming down but Ger’alin clapped a hand over it.

“Be quiet. I haven’t seen her laugh in far too long,” the fighter whispered. “If climbing a tree like a fool amuses her, then just hand me a banana and call me a monkey!”

Zerith gave the man a considering look and then nodded, sitting down carefully on the branch and letting his feet swing beneath him.

“You can come down, now,” Dar’ja shouted up to the pair, a dangerous twinkle in her eyes. “We’ll discuss the terms of surrender.”

~*~*~*~

“…and we’ll just have to make certain that we keep an eye out so we’re not flanked from the south,” Ger’alin muttered as he and Zerith completed the last of the plans for their attack against the Kolkar.

“Alayne’s going to claw me when she finds out she drew reserve,” Zerith muttered as he examined the positions of the various forces arrayed on the map.

“Everyone hates reserve. Still, someone has to take care of it. Should we go gather everyone up and start telling them what the plan is?”

“No. Go and get just the people we picked out to lead each strike group and have them come here. The Maurdine aren’t very far away and it’d be foolish to announce our plans to them. They can probably hear us all the way up in the mountains.”

“Any clue what kind of future forfeit they’ll ask for? I think that might make two I owe Alayne.” Ger’alin said as he turned to go.

“No idea. I did not like the look in their eyes when they announced that one. Still, it can’t be any worse than having to carry them into the village. I had enough trouble just carrying Dar’ja. I still can’t figure out how you managed Alayne and Callie at the same time.”

“Balance is the key. Besides, it helps that neither one of them wears chain mail. I suppose we shouldn’t worry about it. I still think it was worth it just to see her laugh like that.”

“Maybe you can climb another tree to tell her she drew reserve,” Zerith chuckled. “Anything to keep her from looking daggers at me again. I will never spy on them again so long as I live.”

“Yes, we will. We just won’t get caught again,” the fighter tossed over his shoulder as he hurried out of the inn to find and bring the others back. Zerith stared after him in amazement before shaking his head with a laugh. Yes, they probably would spy on the girls again. It was some of the best fun he’d had in a while. Even the part where he’d had to run and climb a tree had been fun.

“What are you smiling at, you nosy little priest?” Dar’ja asked so sweetly that Zerith quickly wiped the grin off his face.

“Nothing,” he answered. “Just thinking about…”

“We know what you’re thinking about,” Alayne said lightly as she dropped onto the bench next to him. Dar’ja walked over behind him and, putting a hand on his shoulder, leaned over him to examine the map. Zerith stared straight ahead, keeping his face impassive by an effort of sheer will.

“Have you assigned the reserves, yet?” Callie asked, pitying the poor man and giving him a way out. By his grimace, that had not been a good question to ask.

“Yes, have you?” Alayne asked, ceasing her teasing and sparing him the rest. “I’d like to request reserve duty,” she added, trying not to laugh at the startled look on his face.

“Then you have it,” he said, pointing to the unit he’d assigned her. “You’ll be positioned here along the road to keep an eye out for reinforcements.”

“Where am I?” Callie asked, sliding onto the bench.

“Let’s just wait until everyone else is here before we get started on assignments,” Zerith suggested.

“That sounds fine to me,” Dar’ja grinned. “We can discuss what it is you two are going to have to do for us instead. Tell me, Ger’alin, how do you feel about untangling yarn? As for you, Zerith,” she said with a sparkle in her eye. “I have something special in mind for you.”

~*~*~*~

“You actually asked for reserve duty?” Callie asked Alayne as the three of them made their way down to the area they’d picked out for their camp.

“Yes. I’d overheard them mentioning who was getting it anyway so I figured I’d spare Zerith the hassle and pretend like it’s what I wanted. I’ve caused him enough trouble lately,” she giggled. “I wonder if he noticed that he still had bark stains on his robes.”

“Speaking of Zerith,” Callie said, turning to glance at Dar’ja, “what’s this ‘something special’ you have in mind for him? Frankly, I think what you are planning for Ger’alin is amusing…”

“Amusing?” Alayne interrupted, laughing, “It’s brilliant! Making him help you knit a bright pink scarf that he’ll have to wear? That’s a masterpiece of mischief. But, what do you have in mind for Zerith?”

Dar’ja grinned knowingly but said nothing. “Come on, tell us,” Callie prodded. “If what you told Ger’alin is anything to go by, it’ll be worthwhile to see what you’re planning for Zerith. Alayne, had you thought of anything for your brother?”

“I had been thinking about making him wear my old tavern dress. But then I realized I’d have to actually get it to fit him and I can’t sew much beyond putting buttons on something.”

“That would be hilarious. I’d love to see him in that get-up,” Callie giggled. “Do you still have your old dress with you?”

“I carry it with me, yes,” Alayne replied. “It’s perfectly serviceable if I wear a high-necked shirt under it and it’s something I don’t mind getting stained or torn. I prefer wearing my normal robes, though, since I had to work to earn them. But, if we were to have to do something like spend a significant amount of time traveling, I’d wear my old clothes just because I don’t mind so much if they get destroyed.”

“Why not just buy new ones?”

“Oh, please,” Alayne said, rolling her eyes. “Why buy new when I have perfectly good ones already? The dresses themselves are only bad if you don’t wear a shirt under them.”

“Alayne,” Dar’ja asked, clearing her throat, “do you think I could borrow that dress?”

“Why?” Alayne replied, baffled. “I don’t mind, though.”

“I could use it for something.”

“Something special?” Callie asked archly.

“Something like that,” Dar’ja muttered sullenly.

“Absolutely not,” Alayne said quickly. “No way. Zerith would kill me.”

“Wait, let’s hear what she’s planning,” Callie said quickly. “We don’t have to assume the worst.”

“It’s along the lines of what you were thinking,” Dar’ja admitted. “He’s just so…straight-laced.”

“Right,” Alayne said. “This is me leaving this conversation. Now. It’s a horrible idea. Zerith’s got enough on his mind right now. And, trust me, his reaction will be the same towards you as it was towards me when he found out I was willing to even use the smallest part of what I learned working there to help out. He won’t like it. He won’t be amused by it. And, if he thinks I had any part of it, he’ll kill me.”

“Relax,” Dar’ja said soothingly. “It will be funny. I’ll go up to his room tonight wearing that outfit and see what his reaction is. It’ll be priceless.”

“No, it won’t be,” Alayne groaned. “Trust me. There are just some pranks you don’t play on men. That’s one of them.”

“Like you would know,” Dar’ja retorted. “Just how much experience with me do you have, Mistress of the Taverns?”

“Not much,” Alayne admitted. “Actually, none whatsoever. However, I did get to see this scenario play out time and time again among humans. Here’s what will happen. You’ll go up to his room wearing my dress. He will either be horrified and shocked that you would think he would take advantage of you. He may even be offended and wind up thinking less of you for it. After all, it’s not like you’ve known him very well and the first impression you made on him wasn’t the greatest from what I’ve heard.”

“And if he’s not shocked or horrified?” Dar’ja said pointedly. “If he reacts like any other man would?”

“Then you’ll think less of him and you’ll hold it against him. There are just some things you don’t do if you care about someone like that.”

“I think I’ll decide for myself what I will and will not do,” Dar’ja scoffed.

“Like I said, then,” Alayne muttered. “Leave me out of it.”

Striding off, Alayne left the Forsaken and the Blood Knight in her dust and prayed that the explosion from this stupidity would not land back on her.

~*~*~*~

Zerith studied the maps he and Ger’alin had marked up over the day. He also had a list of supplies they would need to carry with them and estimates on what they could scavenge from the centaur. Tau’re had, helpfully, provided the last. The tauren with them seemed more eager than the rest to clean out the centaur. Zerith sighed and shook his head, ridding himself of the stray thoughts. He needed to focus on deciding whether or not they would be able to handle the Alliance presence at Nijel’s Point at their backs. Ger’alin had said the Alliance would, more likely than not, ignore them as long as they made no move against their claim in Desolace. After all, they did have Thunder Axe Fortress staring them in the face.

Thunder Axe Fortress was filled with members of the Burning Blade cult. Alayne had mentioned them being in Mannoroc Coven as well. Perhaps they should question her further to find out more about this cult…maybe she had some idea of what to expect from the other warlocks…

A tapping at his door drew the priest out of his thoughts. He had asked the kitchens to send up supper on a tray for him so he could spend more time thinking over the decisions he would have to make once the Kolkar centaurs had been dealt with. Then there were the strange monsters that Callie had reported living in the kaldorei ruins north of the Kolkar’s territory.

The tapping continued and Zerith dragged himself to the door. Supper and a break from worrying over battle first. Then he would return to his maps and his lists. Opening the door, the priest looked down and then wondered if he was awake or asleep.

Dar’ja stood there holding his supper tray, smiling up at him as if there were nothing amiss about the situation at all. However, she had changed into a dress that he both approved and disapproved of. Clenching his jaw to keep it from falling open, he opened the door wider and motioned for her to bring the tray in.

“Why are you bringing this?” he asked curiously, forcing himself not to react. This was normal. This was just some mad prank the girls were playing on him. All he had to do was keep his attention on her face and pretend she was wearing her normal leathers and chain mail.

“I just thought you might be getting a little hungry,” she said with almost-convincing innocence.

“I was,” he replied. Clearing off space on his desk, he took the tray from her and sat down. Gesturing for her to make herself comfortable, he pulled up one of the maps Ger’alin had redrawn and handed it to her. “What do you think of that?” he asked as he began eating.

“I…I think it looks like a good plan,” she muttered, thrown completely off her stride. “Though, why are you setting a watch on the ruins?”

“Because the ruins are occupied by creatures of indeterminate origin and allegiance,” he said, pausing between spoonfuls of soup. “It’s not a heavy watch – Ger’alin originally suggested a quarter of our ranged capacity be sitting up there. I talked him down to no more than a dozen on a three-watch rotation.”

Dar’ja sat silently for a moment, toying with the lace on the low-cut neckline. Zerith did his best to ignore it, focusing on eating. Whatever game she was playing, he wasn’t going to react. He was not going to give her further ammunition to use against him in one form or another. “She didn’t say this might happen,” Dar’ja muttered after a while, crossing her arms over her stomach and pulling her knees up to her chest as if she were embarrassed and trying to hide.

“Who didn’t say what?” the priest asked evenly.

“Alayne,” Dar’ja started.

“Alayne thought this would be a good idea?” he asked skeptically, gesturing to Dar’ja.

“Actually, she thought it was a bad one,” the woman admitted.

“So, why do it? Did you lose a bet against her or Callie?”

“I…I don’t know,” she sighed, flushing furiously. “I just wasn’t thinking…”

“That’s clear,” the priest chuckled as he finished off his supper. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. I’m just not sure what you were hoping to achieve. Either it was to get me completely flustered so you could laugh at my expense or it was something yet even more foolish than that.” Dar’ja’s face hardened and flushed a darker red. “Please, for the love of the Light,” Zerith groaned, “tell me you didn’t pay attention to the whole ‘obligation to the blood’ movement that was going around in Silvermoon. You have far too much sense than to think that you have some sort of duty to…”

“That’s not what I was after. I don’t know what I was after,” she sighed. “I guess your overreaction but you didn’t overreact. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Zerith stood up and walked over to the bed where the woman was sitting. Sitting down next to her, he put an arm around her shoulders and patted her on the back. “If it was a reaction you were looking for, I could give you one to make you feel better,” he offered. She stared at him for a moment in confusion. Grinning, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “There,” he whispered. “I reacted. Now, would you mind helping me sort through these lists and decide what we’re going to do after the Kolkar are dealt with? Normally, I’d have Ger’alin up here but he said he was going to climb up the cliffs nearby and get a general feel for the layout of the Maurdine’s territory.”

“Sure,” Dar’ja said brightly. She hadn’t been sure what she was after to begin with but this…this was fine with her.

~*~*~*~

Ger’alin sprang up out of the water and flung his hair out of his face. The sea was cold off the coast of Desolace but he didn’t mind. He needed a good cooling-off after spending the evening climbing up the rocky cliff-face to spy on the Maurdine. The centaurs seemed to be expecting an attack at any moment. He wondered what they would think when the army they knew about ignored them entirely and headed to their cousins the Kolkar. Whatever it was, he was sure it would be amusing.

Swimming back up to the shallows, he stood in the waist-deep water and scrubbed at his scalp. “That works better if you have soap,” a gravelly voice called out from the beach.

“Callie?” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t get so embarrassed. I’ve seen just as good as before. We Forsaken aren’t quite as modest as the living.”

“No, that doesn’t bother me so much,” he said, glad that the darkness hid his blushes. “But, what are you doing? And please tell me you’re alone.”

“I am,” she said. “Are you almost finished? I could use your help with something.”

“I’ll be right out,” he sighed, striding out of the water and ignoring her glances. Toweling off and putting his clean clothes on, he wrung out his hair, tied it back from his face, and then looked down at her expectantly. “Enjoy the show?” he said dryly.

“Eh, I’ve seen better.”

“What did you need, Callie? Or is this another one of your…”

“No, it’s Alayne,” the rogue said quickly. “I think she’s ill.”

“What’s wrong with her? And did you talk to Zerith?”

“Zerith is…well…Dar’ja’s in his room and they sounded like they were having a conversation that I shouldn’t interrupt. No, Ger’alin,” she sighed when she saw the look on his face, “an actual conversation with voices and words. A discussion. And, maybe ‘ill’ is the wrong word in this context. ‘Strange’ would be better.”

“What’s wrong with her?” her repeated.

“Well, earlier, she and Dar’ja kind of had an argument. Then, suddenly, Alayne seemed to change her mind about what Dar’ja wanted and was being extremely helpful. So helpful, in fact, that I’d have thought she was being sarcastic if she didn’t seem sincere.”

“Women,” Ger’alin muttered.

“Anyhow, after Dar’ja left to continue with her plan for Zerith…”

“I really don’t need to know any more…”

“Alayne laid down to get some sleep. She started talking in her sleep. Arguing, actually, with herself and someone else. And now she’s just lying there with her eyes wide open and her entire body tensed. I tried to lift her arm but she’s as locked up as a three-day corpse.”

“Show me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse. Callie leapt up and scrambled ahead of him, leading him to the small campsite the three women had set up for themselves. None of them wanted to stay in the inn. Alayne lay flat on her back, exactly as Callie had described. Her hands were curled into tightly-clenched fists and her eyes were wide-open and unseeing. Her jaws were clamped so tightly that Ger’alin was surprised she had not broken her teeth. “I have never seen anything like this.”

“I haven’t either,” Callie admitted.

“What’s she saying?” he muttered, squatting down near her head and leaning over so he could try to make out the garbled speech.

“Go away,” she seemed to be muttering. “Just leave me alone.”

Ger’alin sat back and stared at her. He waved a hand in front of her face. He clapped his hands just in front of her eyes. She was completely unaware of anything going on around her. He pressed his fingers against her neck and jerked his hand back. “Fever?” Callie asked.

“No. Her heart is beating so fast I’m surprised you can’t hear it.”

Callie stared at him with a helpless expression. “I’ll stay here with you tonight,” he said after a long pause. “Let me go get my sleeping roll.”

~*~*~*~

Zerith stared at Ger’alin as the Blood Knight recounted the events of the past night. Alayne had looked worse for wear and complained that she had not slept well. So far, no one had told her that they had been unable to rouse her. She had drunk the tea Zerith prepared for her headache and then had promptly buried her nose in a spellbook.

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” the priest sighed. “No illness that I know of would do that.”

“Well, she was locked up and as rigid as a corpse most of the night. Even after I tried rubbing liniment on her arms to see if that would help at all, she was still wound up tighter than a spring.”

“Maybe it’s just the strain of battle,” the priest murmured, hoping it was something as simple as that.

“Maybe. See if you can get her to talk to you. Something is bothering her and I wish I knew what.”

The priest nodded and walked over to where Alayne was sitting. The rest of the small village was bustling with the final preparations for the fight to come. Alayne said studying her spells, committing a few new ones to memory. She had not summoned any of the demons she could control. Zerith hoped that she would not need any of this preparation today. After all, she was in the reserve group.

“What’s bothering you?” he asked baldly, sitting down in a chair near her and pulling it up to the end of the table next to her.

“Nothing,” she said, sounding completely sincere. “Granted, I didn’t get the best night’s sleep last night but…”

“According to Ger’alin and Callie,” Zerith said, forcing himself to remain calm, “you were arguing with yourself in your sleep. And, your muscles were so tense that Ger’alin wonders how you survived with no broken bones. Now, what is eating away at you, Alayne? We’re all worried about you.”

“Nothing,” she replied, drawing a deep breath. “It’s nothing. It’s just…I’m worried about this battle. I’m always worried when we go into battle. It’s just something I need to get over.”

“Alayne,” he sighed, shaking his head. He knew she was hiding something from him. “Have it as you will,” he muttered when she glared at him. “I just wish you would talk to me about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. So, how did your evening go?” she asked sweetly.

“It went fine once Dar’ja learned she wasn’t going to get a reaction from me just because she was wearing a tavern wench’s outfit.”

“Oh?”

“She and I had a long discussion about our relationship and then she went to sleep and I had a cot made up on the floor. Actually, she started nodding off during the discussion which is why she didn’t rejoin you at your camp. Had she done that, I might have been standing over you this morning myself instead of hearing it second-hand from Ger’alin who did hover over you until he passed out himself.”

Alayne stared into the distance, unseeing. Zerith clenched his fists beneath the table, willing himself to have more patience. Her lips moved as if she were speaking with someone else. Finally, she shook herself and blinked. Turning to meet his carefully-patient gaze, she shrugged. “I’m sorry that I’m being such a worry. I’ll do my best to get over my fears so you won’t have to worry,” she said, her voice flat and lifeless.

“Alayne…” he sighed.

“We have a battle to prepare for,” she interrupted. “Let’s get on with it.”

~*~*~*~

Zerith shrugged helplessly at Ger’alin when the Blood Knight glanced at him questioningly. Alayne was being rather stubborn. The more he had tried to press her to talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering her, the more harried she had gotten until she finally quit speaking altogether. Whatever it was, she was not going to discuss it with him. He began considering whether or not Ger’alin could get it out of her. Maybe if the Blood Knight took her out drinking and managed to refrain from getting into a contest with her, he could succeed where Zerith had failed.

The group began mounting up and riding out of the village. Zerith trotted his hawkstrider up to where Dar’ja and Callie were riding. The two women were chatting amiably. Dar’ja seemed to be taking his advice about not trying to impress or overwhelm everyone to heart. She was more relaxed and seemed happier now that she wasn’t trying to prove herself better than everyone around her. Even Ger’alin seemed to be warming up to her slightly though, from the pointed glares the pair gave each other, the priest didn’t think they’d ever be close friends.

Alayne rode near the head of the column. She was gesturing and speaking with Ger’alin. Her shoulders were tense and Zerith could tell she was anxious about something. Still, whatever it was, she fought to hide it from everyone. Clucking to his hawkstrider, the priest caught up with Callie and Dar’ja and smiled.

“Eager to get this over with?” Callie asked.

“I’m just hoping to report a sweeping success to Thrall,” Zerith admitted. “I want to prove to him that we can be trusted. I’d also like to prove that we’re going to work for the good of the Horde. I’m still nervous that someone is going to think I’ve gathered up a private army and will move against us on a rumor that we’re rebelling.”

“Still, it is a fun way to prove ourselves. Much better than just sitting around waiting for someone else to do all the work,” Dar’ja grinned. “I do have to admit that Ger’alin was right about that.”

“Ger’alin is right about a lot of things,” Callie nodded. “And, this is fun. I wouldn’t have thought that adventuring with the living would be.”

“For now, let’s focus on remaining among the living through this battle,” Zerith suggested. “I’ll ride up ahead and see what Ger’alin thinks. Good luck and remember your parts in the fight to come.” Nodding politely, he clucked to his hawkstrider again and moved to the head of the column. Alayne gave him a tight-lipped smile and Ger’alin greeted him absently. They were passing through the narrow pass that marked the start of Mannoroc Coven. Alayne began to tremble slightly but Zerith ignored it. She seemed determined to keep her distance about whatever was worrying her and he needed to focus on the battle to come. Afterwards, he would focus on fighting to get the truth from her.

~*~*~*~

“Master, master!” Ragnar gasped as he ran into Rel’in’s chambers. The elf glared at the human in annoyance.

“This had better be good,” Rel’in muttered as he closed the tome he’d been studying. “I dislike being disturbed from my studies.”

“The intruder; they found her. The elf bitch that killed Veryl,” he said as he gulped for air. “She just rode past. She’s with some kind of army. They took the road towards the Magram village.”

“Very good, Ragnar,” Rel’in said, a slight smile on his lips. “I assume that she’s being followed carefully, as we discussed should she show her face back in Desolace?”

“Yes, Master,” the human said. “If I may…” he began, faltering at the glance his master gave him.

“Yes?”

“I think they’re planning to attack the Kolkar. Some of our lookouts overheard them discussing a battle. They were moving through the area fairly leisurely,” he explained, desperate to be believed. “They’re obviously not much of an army.”

“Oh?” Rel’in laughed. “What are their numbers? Did your lookouts think to count them? Or to observe who the leaders are, that we might take them out easily? How many fighters do they have; what about their magi? Surely they have some of those. You amuse me, Ragnar, when you pretend to knowledge you do not possess. Now, go. Prepare my mount. Since none of you can be trusted, I will observe this ‘army’ myself.”

~*~*~*~

Callie whooped as she rode down another centaur, ducking its attack as she plunged her daggers into its chest. Around her rang the song of combat; steel clashing against steel, bows twanging as arrows were launched, and the whoosh of spells flying to their targets. Up ahead she could see Zerith holding his group aloof, directing the healers towards where they were most needed. In the fore of the fight she could hear Ger’alin and Dar’ja shouting out elvish battle cries as they charged the centaur. The Forsaken woman smiled as she let loose the anger she’d been holding in at her friend for days and used it to help guide her strokes against the Kolkar.

“This is how I like to start a morning!” she heard one of her fellows shout. Grinning over at him, she circled behind his enemy and, with a quick motion, hamstrung the centaur. “That one counts as mine!” she laughed as the orc she’d assisted cleaved the centaur’s head from its body.

“The problem with such a large group is that the fights are never long enough!” another Forsaken laughed merrily as he glanced around. “We should put more in reserve, just to give them a fighting chance.”

“Don’t let Zerith or Alayne hear you say that,” Callie grinned. “Both of them favor overwhelming the enemy. Go on ahead; it looks like Ger’alin could use some more fighters. If you hurry, there might be some fight left in those horses.” Callie chuckled to herself as some of the more hotheaded galloped towards the rear of the camp. Others stayed back with her, forming a second reserve group. The battle had lasted just over an hour with light casualties on their side. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see Alayne and the others assigned to reserve standing atop an outcropping of rock, watching the battle in case they might be needed. Turning back to the combat, Callie decided that the reserves would be completely fresh. The main force had the remaining centaurs pinned between them and the mountain and, from the looks of things no reinforcements were coming to help the half-men, half-horse creatures. “They’ve got this one wrapped up,” she muttered to one of her fighters. “I’m going to go tell the others to head back and prepare for tonight’s celebration. I’m sure our reserves will be glad to be of some use,” she joked.

“They seem to have decided that already,” the fighter laughed, pointing at the hill. “I just saw them turn and run down that hill.”

“Well, let’s just go get them, shall we?” Callie said lightly, fear worming its way into her gut.

~*~*~*~

“There they are,” Rel’in said, pointing to a group of fighters and magi milling about beneath the road. The elf woman stood, watching something on the other side of the road, with others on top of a rise. “We can pin them against that outcropping,” he muttered.

“But Master,” Ragnar said in surprise, “they’re double our number.”

“It amazes me, Ragnar, how you manage to get out of bed in the morning. We can double our numbers easily,” the elf said coldly. “Summon the infernals and felguards,” he ordered the warlocks accompanying him. “We’ll give them something to keep them occupied. Take the elf woman alive.”

~*~*~*~

Alayne had stood, watching the battle, irritated with herself and praying that Zerith, Callie, and the others would be well. She had decided to tell them about what had happened during her trials. Even if the thought of reliving that night gripped her with dread, she would tell them. Anything to ease the frustration and disappointment she sensed coming from them. She would even confess to what happened at Stromgarde and the terrifying dreams and visions she’d been having.

“They’ve got that one wrapped up,” Davril muttered bitterly. “We didn’t get to lift a finger this round.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll get our chance next time,” Alayne said absently. “Maybe we should go on over there and see if they need us for anything now that it seems to be just about over.”

“Or maybe we should go see what those demons want,” Davril said in alarm. Alayne turned back to see a group of warlocks and demons rushing towards their position.

“To arms!” she shouted, moving into casting range of the attackers. “We fight the Legion!” Relief flooded through her as she began to hurl bolts of shadow at the demons. At least she could rid herself of some of her tension before having to confess to Zerith. Behind her, she could feel her other self waiting in the wings, eager for the chance to take over. Taking a firm hold on her temper, Alayne searched for a target in the melee.

~*~*~*~

“Oh no!” Callie shouted as she spurred her horse into a gallop. The reserve groups were being overwhelmed by demons and warlocks wearing the mantle of the Burning Blade. Davril and Alayne were trying desperately to rally their forces to fight on but lacked sufficient numbers of fighters to hold off the demons while they cast their spells. Several magi lay sprawled on the ground, moaning in pain. “Ride back and bring the others, now!” she shouted as she dove into the fray.

Her appearance gave fresh heart to the Disorder of Azeroth and they rallied, almost managing to hold the demons off. Then, just as Alayne was about to give out a cry of triumph, one of the warlocks swooped down on her, grabbing her and pulling her onto his mount. With a shout, the warlocks turned and left the field. The demons continued to attack, clearly intending to disrupt the Disorder of Azeroth long enough for their masters to get away with what they had come for: Alayne.

“Help me!” Alayne screamed as she struggled against her captor. Terror painted her face and she fought wildly. Ignoring the demons, Callie galloped after her friend.

“Alayne!” the undead screamed. “I’ll get you, Alayne!” Lashing her horse with the reins for speed, she drew closer to the warlock who held Alayne tightly with both arms, guiding his demonic horse with his knees. The sin’dorei woman had begun sobbing with fear as she tried to grapple with her attacker. Callie watched in horror as Alayne stopped struggling, her arms and legs drooping as if they were filled with lead. The warlock managed an agonized glare. Clearly some spell had been used to keep her from struggling too much.

“Oh no you don’t,” he snarled as Callie drew close enough to make a grab for her friend. The man struck out with a small staff, knocking Callie from her horse. The undead hit the ground with a sickening crack, nearly blacking out as she felt the bones of her shoulder crunch beneath her. Gritting her teeth, holding her now-useless arm with the other, she turned and began to run back to the battle to get help for Alayne.

~*~*~*~

“What in the name of the Light happened here?” Ger’alin breathed as he surveyed the remnants of their reserve force. He’d never expected to have to fight a second battle, and this one against demons like the one Alayne had called upon in Alterac, right after battling horses.

“They caught us from behind,” Davril answered. “A group of warlocks and their demons. They just attacked. We were overwhelmed almost immediately.”

“I see,” Ger’alin muttered as he glanced around at the carnage. He could see Zerith and Dar’ja moving through the crowds, laying hands on the injured. “You did well,” the fighter said with a smile. “It’s good to know that even our reserve group can stand by itself in battle.”

“Where is Callie? And Alayne?” Zerith asked as he finished healing the last of the wounded. “They’re not with this group. Where are they?” he demanded, panic rising within him when Davril didn’t answer.

“What is that?” Ger’alin asked, pointing down the road. Giving Zerith a hand up behind him, the fighter kicked his horse to a canter, slowing as he drew near a familiar sight. Callie’s horse limped, winded and rider less, back up the road. “Light no,” he heard Zerith whisper.

“Mount and rally!” Ger’alin shouted over his shoulder. “We’ve got to find them!”

~*~*~*~

“Oh, thank the Light,” Callie sobbed as she saw Zerith and Ger’alin dismount and run to her. “They’ve taken her!”

“Hush for a moment,” Zerith muttered as he examined her shoulder. “Ger’alin, brace her. This is going to hurt,” he warned as he wrenched her broken and dislocated shoulder back into a more normal shape. The Forsaken woman yelped in pain, remaining conscious only by effort of will while the priest worked his healing magic on her injuries. “Now, tell me what happened.”

“They took her! Alayne, they just grabbed her and ran off!” Callie wept. “He knocked me from my horse and took her away!”

“Who? Who took Alayne?” Ger’alin demanded, desperation in his eyes.

“The Burning Blade,” Callie sobbed. “They attacked the reserve group and grabbed her! After they got her, they ran off, heading back south. We’ve got to rescue her!”

“We do,” Ger’alin agreed as he turned to shout orders. Zerith gripped the fighter’s arm in a vise-like grip, his fingers digging painfully into Ger’alin’s flesh. As much as Zerith wanted to rush after her with Ger’alin, he knew that plan would just get all of them killed. The Blood Knight struggled to wrest free of Zerith’s grip but the priest bore down relentlessly.

“If we just run down there without a plan,” the priest said, his eyes haunted, “we’re going to get her killed and ourselves too. We make for Sun Rock Retreat to plan the rescue, Ger’alin. I’m not risking getting my sister killed just to be doing something!” he stated firmly, seeing the reckless fire in the other man’s eyes. “Think it through, Ger’alin. Normally you’d be saying exactly what I am now.”

Ger’alin turned away, staring down the road for a moment. “Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s go ‘plan her rescue’ while we leave her in captivity,” he spat. “To Sun Rock Retreat!” he shouted as he mounted his charger and galloped off north. The rest of the Disorder of Azeroth galloped after Ger’alin, leaving Zerith, Callie, and Dar’ja alone for a moment.

“You can’t be serious,” Callie said desperately. “We can’t afford to go sit in Stonetalon while you plan a rescue! Let’s just ride down there and get her!”

“Callie, stop,” Zerith said, choking back tears. “Do you know why they would have taken her?” The undead woman shook her head. “Do you know where they would be holding her?” Again, Callie answered in the negative. “I don’t want to leave her in their clutches a moment longer than I have to,” he said, trying not to shake, “but if we just run down there, none of us will last the rest of the day. Now, go on. Follow Ger’alin and see if you can keep him out of trouble for a while. I’ll be along shortly.”

The rogue nodded blankly. Zerith stood where he was until she turned and headed back to rejoin the others. Ger’alin led them north, turning to glare daggers at the priest before he galloped out of sight. Zerith waited until he was certain he was alone and then sank down in the road and wept. He had finally regained a sister…was he about to lose her so soon?

~*~*~*~

“So you finally decided to join us,” Ger’alin muttered as Zerith rode into Sun Rock Retreat. Zerith glared at him but managed to keep from replying in like kind. Seeing that he was not going to get an argument, Ger’alin growled and turned away, storming over to the inn. Zerith followed him, pausing only to study the crowd gathering outside the wooden building.

“You, you, you, and you,” Zerith said calmly, pointing to the four closest people. “Head to the wyvern roost. I want you,” he said, pointing to the first of them, an orc dressed in wolf pelts, “to go back to Desolace and speak with the leader of the Gelkis clan. See if they’ll assist us in rescuing one of our comrades from the Burning Blade. You,” he said to the tauren standing next to the orc, “do the same for the Magram clan. You there,” he pointed to a Forsaken warrior, “are to go to Shadowprey and find out what they know about the Burning Blade’s hide outs in Desolace. I want the three of you to return as soon as you can with news.”

“And what about me?” the fourth asked, turning around. “Is there anything I can do other than waste time?” she spat angrily.

“You are to go to Silvermoon. Drag back that bastard Jez’ral. I want to know why in the Nether the Burning Blade would kidnap Alayne and I suspect that that son of a bitch has the answer. Do whatever you have to in order to convince him that coming here is in his best interests,” Zerith said icily. “I’ll be at the inn, trying to piece together a plan until you return.”

~*~*~*~

“The Gelkis are amendable,” the orc reported late that night. “It seems that the Burning Blade has been encroaching on their territory and they’d like the chance to kill some of them.”

“That’s good,” Zerith said, “And the Magram?”

“They’re not interested in doing anything other than taking over the Kolkar’s lands and killing the Gelkis. If we’re willing to help them there, they’ll help us,” the tauren responded.

“Then we’ll ally with the Gelkis. Go get some rest. I’ll have orders for you to carry to them tomorrow morning.”

Zerith leaned over the papers scattered about the table, focusing on what he’d learned from his scouts. The Burning Blade had two bases of operations in Desolace: Thunder Axe Fortress to the north and Mannoroc Coven to the south. All indications pointed to Alayne being held in the ruins to the south. Zerith sighed and rubbed his burning eyes as the maps blurred together. The Forsaken he’d sent to find out about the areas had reported rumors that the ruins actually disguised some kind of underground lair. Only rumors, though. The Burning Blade probably made short work of anyone who could confirm the existence of their lair.

“Here, I brought you something to eat.” Zerith looked up to see Ger’alin standing over him holding a plate of food and a mug of tea.

“Thank you, Ger’alin,” Zerith said politely, “but I’m not hungry.”

“No problem,” the fighter answered, setting the food down at the end of the table. “I couldn’t eat either,” he said glumly. “Have you got anything planned?”

“Not really,” Zerith sighed. “I need to know more about where they’re holding her.”

“I might be able to supply that deficiency,” came an answer from the door way. “Or rather, he will,” Callie growled as she shoved Jez’ral into the inn and slammed the door behind her.

“Good evening to you,” the warlock began smoothly. “I came as soon as I heard what happened. Others are on their way as well. We can’t let one of our own be held prisoner by the Burning Blade, after all,” he smiled though the expression did not touch his eyes.

“Sit down and shut up unless you’re going to tell me just why the Burning Blade would be interested in Alayne,” Zerith said, his voice like cold steel. Jez’ral raised an eyebrow at his impertinence. “I don’t give a damn what you are used to or how you want to be addressed. Ever since Alayne went off with you, she’s been a completely different person. Either you tell me why, or I’ll let Ger’alin here cut you into little pieces as a warning to the next man who’d mess with my sister!”

“I look forward to the exercise,” Ger’alin said, baring his teeth in what might have been a smile. Loosening his sword in its scabbard, his tone became almost jolly, “I haven’t killed anyone in hours.”

“I am getting a little hungry,” Callie rasped from her spot by the door. “And he looks delicious,” she smacked her lips. Jez’ral blanched, wondering if they were serious or not.

“I suggest you tell me everything you know about this cult, why they would want Alayne, and where they might be holding her. We have all night to discuss the matter,” Zerith said coldly.

“I see,” Jez’ral muttered, his face taking on a green tint. “I don’t know where, exactly, they’ll be holding her. Hand me some parchment and a quill and I’ll draw you a map of their underground lair. That’s usually where they take prisoners and spies to torture them before they execute them.” Zerith’s face went white and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

“Why would they want Alayne?” Ger’alin asked faintly, his face a twin to Zerith’s.

“Because she stole a book back from them,” Jez’ral muttered as he sketched the layout of the lair. “Keep in mind this information may be out of date. The new leader killed all of the spies we had infiltrated into their cult. We still haven’t found out exactly what happened to Veryl, their last leader,” he said as he passed the map over to the priest.

“You mean to tell me that she’s been captured and may be tortured and killed over a Nether-spawned book?” Ger’alin shouted hoarsely as he leapt from his seat and drew his sword.

“Well, not just any book,” Jez’ral said smoothly. “A very special book. She went to a lot of trouble to steal it from them as part of her trials. At least, she came back looking like she’d been run through the wringer,” he continued calmly, masking his feelings behind an expression of disinterest. “She’s really something else, though. Completed her trials in a single night and faced down a felhunter and an infernal on top of it all. We’re very proud of all she’s accomplished. That’s why we’ll be coming along with you to rescue her.”

“No, you will not,” Zerith said calmly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. What must she have endured at the hands of those cultists to get this blasted book that Jez’ral was nattering on about? “You are going back to Silvermoon right now before I forget that Alayne respects you and kill you myself. Get out of here!” the priest shouted. “You make my skin crawl!”

“I don’t answer to you, boy,” Jez’ral sneered as he stood up. “And neither do those who are following me. Just stay out of our way when we go to rescue my student. If you do that, I might let you live.”

“Let him go, Ger’alin,” Zerith muttered as the fighter moved to block the warlock’s exit. Once the man was gone, Zerith collapsed back down into his seat. “Everyone, get a few hours’ sleep. We’ll be returning to Shadowprey tomorrow morning to work out terms with the Gelkis and to rescue my sister.”

~*~*~*~

Zerith sat, fidgeting impatiently and trying not to cough from the pipe smoke. The leaders of the Gelkis clan sat around the fire, puffing contentedly and discussing strikes and raids they’d been in and making plans for future raids against the Magram clan.

“We are honored to be brothers with warriors such as you,” Ger’alin said as he exhaled smoke. Zerith had suggested that the fighter do most of the talking when it came to bragging about their raids. “But now, let us discuss the battle with the Burning Blade.”

“In time, brother,” the eldest, a wise old centaur named Uthek said. “First we will feast and cement our bonds of brotherhood. Then, we will battle and trample our enemies under hoof.”

Zerith knew his face must look as strained as Ger’alin’s. That was the same answer they’d gotten every time they tried to steer the talk towards planning Alayne’s rescue. Zerith could hear Ger’alin gritting his teeth in frustration. To the Gelkis, this was just another raid.

“Honored elders,” Zerith began, taking the pipe from his mouth and then nearly dropping it when the bowl burned his fingers. “We look forward to feasting with you, but first, we must rescue my sister. She is being held prisoner. The Burning Blade took her in a raid.”

“Your trouble stirs our hearts,” Uthek said as he puffed on his pipe. “But, to raid with new allies without a feast of brotherhood is unlucky. Until you’ve been introduced to our clan’s totem spirits, fighting alongside you is unlucky. We would lack their blessing.Besides, it is only one night she is away from your tents. She will come to no harm,” he said reasonably.

Zerith and Ger’alin gaped at each other. Did the centaurs have any idea just what the Burning Blade would do to prisoners? From the impassive faces of the centaurs around them, the answer was obvious. They were not used to fighting enemies who were vile and given to torture, or worse. Their common opponents were other centaurs; creatures of primitive honor like themselves. Zerith sighed in frustration, wondering how he could communicate the danger that Alayne was in without offending his new allies. Fortunately, Ger’alin took the issue out of his hands.

“She’s my woman and I want her back in my tent,” he said flatly. He ignored the outraged look on Zerith’s face. If it would prod the centaurs into action, he’d say whatever he needed to say. “I’ll be going after her this evening with our without you. She’ll not spend another night away from her clan.”

From the shocked looks on the centaurs’ faces, not to mention the way Zerith looked as if he were about to choke to death, Ger’alin thought he may have gone too far. After a moment, Uthek sighed and nodded.

“You won’t go alone,” Uthek said. Waving his arm towards a young centaur warrior, he ordered, “Take the pipes away. We have a raid to plan. Don’t worry, young brother. We will get your woman back to your tent before your sheets have time to grow cold.”

~*~*~*~

Alayne shuddered, pushing herself up on arms that shook. Her back burned like a wildfire and her legs trembled. For the first hour, she’d worried that she would betray her friends and tell the cult everything. After the second, endless hour of torture, she had indeed babbled out everything she knew. Anything to make the pain stop. Bitter tears of shame trickled past her nose as she recalled just how eager she’d been to everything she could think of. The words had gushed out of her like a river that she’d hoped would wash away the whips and the brands they’d held. Forcing herself to her knees, she lifted her hands to her face and tried to claw her eyes out. The physical pain she could bear and recover from. The pain of betraying her friends; of discovering just how weak she was, the pain of failing to protect them and endangering them because of her own weakness…she would never recover from that. She wished that she’d let the murdered man kill her so she would never have had to face this torment. Desperately, she tried to scratch away the memory of what she had done; of what had been done to her.

There now, don’t do worse than they have already.

“I want to die. I wish they would kill me.”

Maybe they will. Maybe we’re both going to die here.

“It’s what we deserve. Light, please don’t let Zerith risk himself in a rescue attempt.”

Alayne sank back down onto the cold, stone floor. She even closed her eyes and let her breathing become deep and even. She forced herself to keep her eyes closed even though she could see the looks of disgust and hatred her friends would give her when they found out she had betrayed them. Alayne turned, her back facing her fellow captives, so that they wouldn’t see her weep.

“They’ll hate me.”

They already do.

“I know. They’ll hate me even more. No one will ever forgive me for what I’ve done.”

“There are those who would understand. You must find them. Seek them out. They will care for you. They will understand the path you walk.”

Who are they? Alayne whispered desperately to the strange, new voice that had offered comfort. Who could understand what she had done and still offer her comfort? The question ran over and over in her mind as she tried to reach the speaker. She choked back sobs, trying to steel herself against the pain she felt whenever she moved. Behind her, she could hear the other prisoners whispering, praying, and begging for the forgiveness that she knew none of them would ever receive. Who are you?she demanded of the distant voice. She sighed bitterly, tears of anguish falling from her closed eyes, when silence was the only response.

~*~*~*~

“Hey, it got them to plan the raid, didn’t it?” Ger’alin said defensively. Zerith had not said a word during the rest of the exchange with the centaurs but the glares he had given the Blood Knight spoke loudly enough on their own. The priest did not like it when anyone even seemed to think that Alayne was less worthy of respect than another woman simply because she’d lived among humans and worked in a tavern to pay the bills. “Look, it was just something to get them moving. I didn’t mean anything by it. I don’t think that she is like that at all. I know that she isn’t and that she would gut any man who laid a hand on her without her permission.”

“She is going to hit the roof when she finds out what you told them,” Zerith muttered. “And I’m not going to stop her from killing you for this one.”

“I only said what I had to say to get them to actually do something other than sit around and feast and drink to brotherhood,” the fighter growled. “Or would you rather she remain in the warm and welcoming hands of the cultists another night just to protect her good name?”

“I understand why you did what you did, Ger’alin. I’m just warning you that Alayne will not see it the same way. She can be very peculiar when it comes to that kind of talk. I have a feeling that she’s terrified someone will think that she’s little more than a tavern wench instead of seeing that she’s someone who had to work in a tavern. You should get Dar’ja to tell you what Alayne said to her about what she was planning for me.”

“Overuse pronouns, much?” Callie asked, drawing her horse up along Zerith’s other side. “And what did Ger’alin do that is going to have Alayne up in arms?”

“Oh no, he’s not telling you,” Ger’alin said. “You’ll run off and tell her first thing. You’d probably convince the cultists to let you pass just so you could tell her!”

“Never mind, Callie,” Zerith said politely. “Are the others in position?”

“Yes. That’s what I came to tell you. Uthek says that he’ll signal the attack as soon as it’s full dark. That would be in about an hour, I guess,” she said, looking at the sky.

“Will the archers be able to see in the dark?”

“Yes, Ger’alin, they will be able to,” she muttered. “I’m just as anxious as you are to get Alayne out of the cultist’s clutches. I saw her face. I know what she’s terrified might happen to her. But,” the rogue sighed,“we should stick to the plan you developed. It is a good one. Rather different than how we normally do things, though.”

“We have to assume they’ll know everything about us and what we’ve done already. We can’t know what she’s told them or what she’s held back…or even if she’s still alive,” he sighed sadly. Next to him, Ger’alin began growling, his eyes blazing with anger. “You should probably get back into position,” Zerith muttered. “Wait for Uthek’s signal.”

“Oh,” she said as she turned to leave, “before I forget. Jez’ral and that Strahad said something about them taking care of the library and the leader’s chambers. I guess we should let them do that?”

“They can burn in the Nether for all I care, damned wizards and their Light-be-damned books,” Ger’alin growled angrily.

“Yes, Callie. Let them do whatever they want. We’re here for Alayne,” Zerith said, his tone implying the “thank you for putting up with Ger’alin” that the Forsaken seemed to need right then. With a sigh, he schooled himself to patience, speaking only to calm Ger’alin while waiting for Uthek’s signal.

~*~*~*~

Alayne groaned, then whimpered when she heard her joints pop and crack as she moved, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt as much. Pain washed over her in waves. In her failing vision, she could see her other self floating before her eyes. Reaching out, she tried to draw on her strange self’s strength. Bitter tears leaked from the corners of her eyes when she realized that the woman had no more strength than she.

“I will surrender to you if you’ll help me,” she whispered to her own wavering face. “Just give me the strength to fight back once; to fight back enough to force them to kill me.”

“You will not die here, Alayne.”

“Who are you?” she gasped. She could see her other self nodding as if responding to an order Alayne had not heard. Her ghostly mirror vanished, leaving her alone. For a moment, Alayne felt an intense despair. Then, she felt a welcome surge of rage begin to well in her heart. She smiled in the darkness. She was not going to die here.

~*~*~*~

“Let’s go!” Ger’alin shouted as soon as he saw the signal they’d been watching for. Elves, orcs, trolls, tauren, and centaur poured from the hills above the coven, crashing down upon the warlocks like a flood. Off to a corner, he could see Jez’ral and the human with him making their way to the area they said was the library. “Wizards and their books,” he muttered as his sword flashed through the air, cutting open the orc warlock in front of him. Onwards, he fought, cutting a path through the violence with his blade. He could hear Zerith behind him, calling on the Light to smite the cultists and heal his friends.

“We found it!” he heard Callie call from across the ruined building. “This way,” she gestured. Ger’alin followed her to a ramp leading down to what looked like a pile of rubble. “Look at it closely,” she said. “It could fool a dwarf.” Ger’alin examined the pile carefully. After a moment, he realized it was a very cleverly painted door. Lifting his foot, he summoned all the rage he possessed and kicked it off its frame.

“Good job!” Zerith shouted as he ducked into the hallway. Callie and Ger’alin followed on his heels, punching, shoving, and slashing their way down the twisting paths. Up ahead, they heard a man’s agonized shouts. Callie and Zerith rushed towards the source of the sounds while Ger’alin pressed deeper into the lair. He laughed with malicious delight whenever one of the cultists fell to his blade. They would pay for kidnapping Alayne.

~*~*~*~

Alayne shivered, her teeth chattering as her body shook. The temperature in the room had begun to plummet in the past few minutes. Letting the rage burn through her, she shoved herself up on her hands and knees and tried to summon the strength to stand. Wobbling unsteadily on her feet, she lurched towards the door, determined to tear it down and fight through the Burning Blade until she was free…or dead. She roared with rage as she took a wobbling step. The door seemed so far away. Placing each foot carefully, she crossed the room. She reached the door and placed her hands upon it. Summoning all of the power she could muster, she pushed against the wooden door. It gave way in an explosion of splinters. The backlash of the spell singed her skin and hair but she did not feel it. She took a careful step into the hallway…

…and spiraled down into utter darkness as the world gave way beneath her.

~*~*~*~

Ger’alin fought onward. He’d long since lost sight and sound of his comrades. He had lost himself in the twisting passages of the underground labyrinth. Only the groans of the few warlocks who had tried to remain hidden during the fight could be heard this far beneath the ground. He rounded a corner, his footfalls echoing ahead of him. Two warlocks emerged from one of the rooms just as he stepped in front of the doorway. They had only a second to blink in surprised confusion before he had both of them on the floor, the orc’s blood pumping out as quickly as her heart beat. The undead he tore apart, knowing from his time in Undercity that only burning the corpse would keep it from reanimating after a few hours. He then ducked into the room they’d headed out of, surprised to find it a dead end. Turning on his heel to leave, he heard a woman’s roar from beneath the room followed by a tremendous explosion. Keeping to his feet, he glanced around for the cause of the sudden tremor in the room.

“Ah ha!” he exclaimed, seeing the trapdoor hidden beneath the table. Shoving the table aside, he opened the door and leapt down, sword at the ready. Alayne lay sprawled on the floor in a heap. The broken remnants of the cell door dotted the hallway. “Light no!” he shouted, dropping his sword and shield on the ground and fell to kneel beside the fallen woman. Rolling Alayne on her back, he pressed his fingers against her neck, shuddering with relief to find her pulse beating faintly. She burned to the touch with some fever and the whole cell stank of infection and rot. He tried to clear his mind and reach out as his instructors had taught, tried to wrest the healing powers that came from the Light into his hands. For long moments, he tried desperately to purge the poison coursing through the Alayne’s veins. With a strangled grunt of anger, he set her back on the ground gently, and rose to his feet. Choking back the tears of self-hatred he felt rising at his failure and ineptitude, he turned and ran from the cell.

“Zerith!” he called out as he raced back up through the keep. “Dar’ja? Somebody come quickly!”

~*~*~*~

“Ah, Rel’in,” Jez’ral was saying as he saw the man that the Disorder of Azeroth had taken captive. “I thought you might be part of this insanity.”

“Jez’ral,” the elf said calmly. “I’m not surprised to see you as part of this rabble.”

“Where’s Alayne?” Zerith demanded.

“Oh, is that the wench’s name?” Rel’in asked, affecting surprise. “I can’t be bothered to learn the names of all the fools we execute.”

“You’d better be lying,” Callie warned, hefting her daggers.

“Oh, he is,” Jez’ral said pleasantly. “He’d never kill a captive until they were too weak to survive the torment he extracts from them. That’s his weakness. Though I’m surprised he would run as sloppy an operation as he does. Rel’in, old man,” Jez’ral said amiably, as if talking with an old friend instead of a traitor to his people, “I’m surprised you let my student get through to steal back the Tome.”

“That was Veryl, not me,” the elf spat.

“Ah. So that explains why she returned to me with her robes ripped open. Veryl never could stand to let a woman pass by without interference. I’m sure, however, that he’ll come to regret laying a hand on my student. If Alayne couldn’t teach him manners, I’ll relish that lesson.”

“I’ll kill him!” Zerith swore, looking around for the subject of discussion.

“She beat you to that,” Rel’in said calmly. “She cut him to ribbons in the library. Veryl never did stop to think that someday, a wench might actually back up her ‘no’ with a little action.”

“That’s my sister you’re talking about, you filth!” Zerith shouted, advancing on the captive man, enraged beyond reasoning. Jez’ral grabbed the priest before he could tear Rel’in apart with his bare hands.

“Stop it, Rel’in,” Jez’ral sighed. “You won’t get an easy death at this young man’s hands. Zerith,” he said to the priest, “leave. Go see if you can find the prison cells. That’s more likely than not where Alayne will be.” For a moment, it seemed as if the priest would ignore the warlock. Then Ger’alin stumbled into the room.

“Zerith,” he gasped, “quick. Found her,” he said as he sucked air into his starving lungs. “Hurt bad. Afraid to move her.Needs your help.”

Without another look at the traitor elf, Zerith followed Ger’alin further into the lair at a run.

~*~*~*~

Zerith gasped in horror as he examined the women’s injuries. Ger’alin hovered over him, pacing and cursing at himself. Reaching out to the Light, Zerith made a futile attempt to heal Alayne. He sighed when the effort was not enough. His sister’s injuries were beyond his ability to repair alone. Trying again to would be like trying to reach for the moon by standing on his toes. Every gasp or moan she let escape from her throat when he moved her cut through him like a knife. He wished he could risk waking Alayne, risk letting her know she was safe, that her tormenters were dead.

“She’d just pass right back out from the pain,” he whispered to himself. Alayne was a mass of cuts, bruises, and burns. He could feel the heat of infection just by holding his hand over some of the worst of them. If the prison cell hadn’t stunk of illness and putrefaction before now, the stench of the woman’s untreated wounds would have made the air loathsome on its own.

“Zerith?” he heard Dar’ja call out from the door way. “They said you needed assistance. I came as quickly as I could.”

He nodded and pointed for her to sit on the other side of Alayne. Closing his eyes, he felt Dar’ja reaching for the source of her divine powers while he opened himself to the Light. At a signal that he couldn’t explain but knew instinctively, he melded their energies together and directed them into the woman’s body.

Alayne gasped and then settled back to the floor, her breathing coming more easily. Only faint bruises and scars remained, marking her fair skin, as signs of her torture. Examining her again, he smiled sadly at Alayne. The wounds to her body were gone, soon only scars remained. The wounds to her mind spirit would take much longer to heal.

With a sigh, Zerith let Dar’ja help him up. He opened the door and was almost knocked over by Ger’alin. “She’s still asleep,” Zerith said in response to the question in the fighter’s eyes. “She’ll need to rest.”

“I know, I know,” Ger’alin muttered, unable to keep delight out of his voice. “But she doesn’t have to stay here, does she?”

“No, I suppose not,” Zerith said tiredly. “You can take her to your tent.”

Ger’alin flushed in embarrassment but said nothing as he carried Alayne out of the dank cell.

~*~*~*~

Ger’alin smiled, at least, it was an attempt at a smile, as yet another person clapped him on the shoulder and offered congratulations. Zerith must have related the entire incident to Callie for it to have spread all over the gathering so quickly.

“I am going to strangle her,” he muttered to himself, or words to that effect.

“Strangle who?” the intended target asked. Ger’alin gave a start; he had not heard anyone creep up behind him.

“You,” he snarled. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“What are you so upset about?” Callie blinked. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it. I’ve been too busy,” she said, fighting a smile, “too busy looking after your woman!” she cackled.

“How is Alayne doing?” Ger’alin asked pointedly, trying to ignore the teasing.

“She’s still asleep,” Callie said, her demeanor changing instantly. “Zerith thinks she may sleep another day or so. If we hadn’t killed most of them, I’d be all for going and massacring those blasted cultists until…until…until they were dead!” she finished lamely, her anger preventing her from making her normal smart-aleck rejoinder.

“I can agree with you there,” Ger’alin muttered, unconsciously gripping the hilt of his sword. “You should be glad you didn’t see what she looked like before Zerith and Dar’ja got there.”

“I am. It’s bad enough just watching her sleep now. You can call me a liar, but two days ago, I’d have prayed for her to sleep peacefully. Now I wish she’d twitch or move or mumble just once. It’s un-natural,” Callie shuddered. “If I couldn’t see her chest rising and falling, I’d think she was dead, she’s so still. Zerith says it’s just exhaustion but…”

“I understand,” Ger’alin whispered. “The Magram are sitting quiet,” he said, changing the subject.

“So that’s where you went. Dar’ja said she figured you were scouting out one of the other clans. She said you probably needed to get away from all the well-wishers for a few hours.”

Ger’alin winced. “I’m glad she’s still asleep. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about those ‘well-wishers’ ever since the first of them offered their congratulations. Oh no, don’t try that wide-eyed innocent look with me, Callie. That trick won’t work this time.”

“I had nothing to do with this one, Ger’alin. I swear.”

“I have a hard time believing you considering that you’ve managed to tell every last person what someone else remarked about them when it amused you. But this time, it’s gone a little too far. I’ve not had a moment’s peace since we got back from Mannoroc Coven!”

“I swear I said nothing to no one. The only person I’ve mentioned it to was you.”

“Sure.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Zerith said. Both sin’dorei and Forsaken started. So intent they had been on their arguing that they had not heard the priest approach.

“Is she awake yet?”

“How is she?”

“She’s still asleep. And she’ll be fine,” Zerith sighed. “It’s just exhaustion.”

“Are you sure?” Callie asked. “I can hardly stand to go in there.”

“It is just exhaustion,” the priest repeated. “After seeing what they did to her, I’m not surprised at all by how long it’s taking her to wake up. Light, I probably wouldn’t want to wake up either after being treated like that,” he shuddered.

“Don’t dwell on it, Zerith,” Ger’alin advised. “We’ve already brought her tormentors to justice.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But, at any rate, Callie’s not the one who spread news of your marital status all over the camp. You can thank the centaurs for that. And no, Ger’alin, you can’t go and bash our new allies over the head so don’t even ask. I’m sure that if you’ll just wait and explain it to her rationally, she’ll understand and be flattered. Or, she won’t and you’ll be speaking in a slightly higher register for a while.”

“She’ll understand,” Callie nodded. “If I’d been in your place, I’d have done the same thing.”

“And it gives you something else to harass me over,” Ger’alin laughed without mirth. “I’m going to go find something to eat and try to avoid ever speaking to anyone ever again. Me and my big mouth.”

“Why is he letting it bother him so much?” Zerith wondered aloud after Ger’alin had stalked off. “I mean, yeah, sure, Alayne’s old-fashioned. She doesn’t even like me being in her room when I’m looking after her and she calls me her brother. Still, she didn’t flip out that night he passed out on the floor of her room so… What?” he asked, seeing the disgusted look on Callie’s face.

“I refuse to believe that you are as dimwitted as you’re pretending to be,” the Forsaken muttered, turning on her heel and following Ger’alin.

“Is everyone trying to drive me crazy?” Zerith called out after her. “Because, if so, you’re succeeding admirably! I wish someone would let me in on this joke,” he muttered.

“What joke?” Dar’ja asked as she walked up to him.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, hating the whine in his voice. Stumping over to her, he leaned his head down against her shoulder in tired defeat. He smiled when he felt her arms circle his waist and heard her murmur something vaguely comforting. “Forget about them,” he muttered into her hair. “Let’s get something to eat before I have to go check in on Alayne again.”

~*~*~*~

“They’ll never forgive me,” Alayne whispered to the stranger. She sat in a cold, dark room, much like the cell that housed her. “I betrayed them because I was weak and scared and they’ll never forgive me.” In the strange manner of dreams, she felt comfortable confessing to the strange man standing, swathed in shadows, in front of her.

“I forgive you,” he rasped.

“I know you do,” she said, surprised that she did know. “But, do you understand…”

“Understand about the battle you face to control your temper? Understand the shame you felt when you pleaded with your captors to let you tell them all about the disposition of the forces in the Ghostlands?” the stranger asked, amused. “Of course I understand, Alayne. I’ve betrayed and been betrayed in turn.”

“I don’t think I can bear it,” Alayne continued as if she had not heard. “I don’t think I’ll be able to bear the looks of disgust and scorn that they’ll give me when I must tell them about what I did. They’ll hate me, then. Instead of caring for me, Zerith will push me away. I’ll be all alone again. Just like after Mother died.”

“You’ll never be alone. Come to me and I can reunite you with your true friends and family,” the stranger offered. “Already, I have calmed the battle within you. There is much I can do to help you grow strong, little one.” He could sense the woman hesitating, wavering in her decision. All that held her from him was her devotion to her brother. The stranger had not yet uncovered a way to cut that tie though he had several likely plans in motion. He disliked being forced to move so quickly and openly. With a sigh that sounded like the icy wind of death itself, the stranger changed his tactic. “You should rest,” he cooed soothingly, careful to keep distaste out of his tone. “Rest and dream of one who will always love you, no matter what choices you make.”

~*~*~*~

Alayne sat, facing the corner of her room, shivering and sobbing. Her mother had shoved her into her room ages ago, ordering her to sit in the corner and think about what she’d done. It wasn’t fair, the little girl thought to herself. It wasn’t as if she’d meant to break that jar. She’d just wanted to look at the pretty sparkles it was making. She hadn’t meant to disobey her mother. She was just so curious about the pretty things in the store that she couldn’t stop her hands from reaching out to try to grab them.

Outside, she could hear her mother and father talking. Then she heard the stairs creak and the door to her room open. Turning, she began sobbing anew when she saw her father’s stern face.

“Alayne, come here,” he said firmly, sitting on her bed. Alayne wiped the tears from her eyes and hiccoughed as she dragged her feet, walking slowly across the room until she stood in front of her father. She heard him sigh and then say, “Alayne, look up at me.” She lifted her face and stared up at him, unable to stop her crying. “Your mother told me what happened at the arcanist’s shop today, Alayne. You know better than to touch anything unless your mother or I say you may.”

“Yes, Papa,” she sobbed.

“Until you can learn to obey your mother and me, you won’t be allowed to go out shopping with us. You’ll have to stay with an adult when we have to run errands until you can show us that you are an obedient little girl. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Papa,” she sobbed again. She flinched when he reached out for her and saw his expression change from one of sternness to one of concern. She felt her heart flutter when he lifted her up and set her in his lap, rocking her while she cried.

“There, there,” he said softly. “Stop crying. It’s okay now.”

“I c-can’t!” she wailed, burying her face in her father’s chest and shuddering.

“What’s the matter, Alayne? I just told you what your punishment was. There’s no need to keep carrying on like this.”

“I was ‘fraid,” she managed to croak out. “I thought you and Mama would hate me for being so bad.”

“Oh now,” he said, holding her up to his face and smiling, “there’s nothing in this world that you could do so bad that would make Mama and I hate you. I love you, Alayne, and I always will.”

Alayne stared at her father’s smiling face, seeing the love shining from his bright blue eyes. The warmth of his care melted away the rest of her fear and she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling them in his long, reddish brown hair while he rocked her until she fell asleep, safe and secure in her father’s loving arms.

~*~*~*~

Alayne woke up and blinked. She was laying atop a pile of furs, a quilt thrown over her. Her tattered and filthy robes had been replaced with a clean linen nightgown and, as she tested her legs, she noticed she had been healed. Lifting her hands to her face, she could no longer feel the swelling or the soreness that had she had grown accustomed to in the last days. Her fingers encountered the wetness of tears as they traced her cheeks and she smiled, letting the bittersweet warmth of nostalgia drift over her as she remembered the dream.

Her joy was short-lived, though, as she pulled herself out of the bed and began to examine her surroundings. A pile of her clothes lay heaped in one corner and, with a shudder, she lifted the remains of what she had been wearing when she was captured. “I don’t think there’s a seamstress in the universe that could repair this,” she muttered. “I wish there was one who could repair my memories,” she said as she threw the rags down and wiped her hands on her nightgown. “Where in the nine hells am I?” she asked aloud.

“Ah, you’re awake!” a booming feminine voice shouted from the opening of the tent. “Just stay there, lass. Your mate was worried about you. I’ll go fetch him now.”

“Thank you!” Alayne called out to her mysterious benefactress. “Wait, my what?”

~*~*~*~

Ger’alin tore another bit of meat off the haunch he held, telling himself it was deer, and swallowed without tasting it. The sun was setting and a chill was spreading across the desert, making him grateful to sit close to the fire, telling himself that it was the heat of the flame that was bringing color to his face and not the remarks of the centaurs he’d chosen to sup with. Thinking that they would leave him in peace had been his first mistake, he mused as he tore another bite off and chewed angrily. Maybe, if he could figure out a way without offending his new “brothers,” he could introduce them to a concept called “the quiet game” that his mother had loved for him to play when he was a child.

He tried to smile and nod happily as the centaurs continued to offer their rather frank, and, considering the differences in physiology, impossible — not to mention inappropriate –advice on how best to celebrate his “mate’s” return. Waving them off, he said something about needing some more wine and stalked off. Seeing Dar’ja, Zerith, and Callie sitting by themselves, he headed in their direction. The good-natured ribbing of his friends was preferable to the more ribald lessons their allies had been giving him.

He was halfway to his friends when he heard hooves galloping in his direction. Turning, he saw one of the centaur women who’d been helping to tend to Alayne. The horse-woman wore a broad grin as she halted in front of the elven man.

“Your woman’s awake,” the female centaur laughed. “Climb aboard; she’s eager to see you.”

“Me and my big mouth!” Ger’alin groaned.

~*~*~*~

Alayne paced the width of the tent, her heart pounding in fear. Had the centaurs rescued her from the Burning Blade and then given her to one of their own as some kind of sick prize? She’d heard stories of women taken in raids from the humans as she was growing up and the notion had always disgusted her. She froze when she heard hooves approaching her tent. Looking around for a weapon, she steeled herself to fight off whatever barbaric horse-man thought he would ravish her. Her hand gripped a spear stuck in the ground in the corner of the tent and, with a strength borne of desperation, she managed to free it from the dirt.

Her heart lurched in her throat when she saw Ger’alin duck into the tent and she dropped the spear in relief.

“You will not believe what they told me,” she said, her voice shaky with relief.

“It’s good to see you up and about,” Ger’alin said, looking everywhere except at Alayne. “But maybe you should go back to sleep for a while?” he suggested lamely.

“Oh no,” she laughed. “I’m starving. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Where are Zerith and Callie? Are they still angry with me?”

“You’re hungry?” Ger’alin asked. “I’ll just go get you something to eat, then. I’m sure Zerith and the others will want to see you as well. I’ll just go get them too while I’m at it,” he said, lifting the tent flap as he prepared to go out.

“Wait a minute,” Alayne said. “Where are we? What happened? The last thing I remember is trying to get to the door,” she explained, “and thinking that I was going to die in there…” she trailed off, shuddering in distaste at the memory, “The next thing I remember is waking up here and some centaur lady saying – and this will make you laugh – that she was going to fetch my mate!” Alayne gasped, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “I thought I was about to meet a four-legged suitor when you ducked in here!”

Ger’alin gave a guilty start. “We’re in the Gelkis village, just west of Mannoroc Coven,” he said, trying to divert her away from any dangerous topic. “You’ve been here for about two days now, asleep. We allied with the Gelkis to rescue you. You were pretty bad off,” he said, his eyes darkening as he recalled the sight. “Between us and the Gelkis, we killed or captured every last one of those Light-be-damned cultists. Did any of them…” Ger’alin trailed off, anger choking him.

Alayne stared at the man as if she had never seen him before. “Did any of them hurt you, Alayne?” Ger’alin managed to croak out, sounding strangled. The woman stared at him dumbly. “If that any one of those scumbags so much as touched you, I swear by the Pantheon, I’ll…!”

“Oh, Light no,” Alayne gasped, understanding dawning. “Some of them wanted to, I suppose, but their leader wouldn’t so much as let them touch me without him being there. He preferred to torture me himself. He seemed to enjoy it,” she shuddered, “Are you okay, Ger’alin? Do you want me to get you some water or something?” she asked, recoiling at the look of implacable hatred on her friend’s face.

“I’m fine,” the fighter said, a slow smile washing away the strange look he’d bore. “I couldn’t be better,” he laughed.

“That’s a relief,” Alayne said, sitting back down on the furs that constituted her bed. “How are the others? Zerith and Callie? And Dar’ja, too,” she added. “Why didn’t they come with you?”

“They’re fine. Zerith and Callie have been hovering over you the whole time. I think they only left to go find something to eat. Speaking of that, you said you were hungry,” he said, turning to leave again. He opened the tent flap to find a pair of centaur matrons standing in front of him carrying plates of food. “Oh no,” he whispered.

“Hungry, lass?” one of the centaur ladies laughed. “Well, you can hardly celebrate with your mate on an empty stomach!”

Ger’alin grabbed the plate from the horse-lady and let the tent flap drop. He turned around, to see Alayne staring at him, her hands on her hips, one knee bent, foot tapping and eyes glittering dangerously. “That’s really a funny story,” he said, forcing a laugh. “You see I told them that you were my woman so that they would go…Alayne, what are you doing? Put down that spear!”

~*~*~*~

“Was that Ger’alin that just rode off on the back of a centaur?” Callie asked, staring off behind Zerith.

“Do I look like I have eyes in the back of my head?” the priest asked, smiling at his friend. “If you’re finished eating, we should probably go check on Alayne. See if you can find some stew or something in case she’s woken up.”

Callie hurried off, while Zerith swallowed the last of his meal. The Forsaken woman returned a few minutes later with a large bowl of steaming stew and a loaf of bread. The pair stood up and began walking towards the tent where the elven woman lay sleeping. Dar’ja spotted them and hurried over, giving Zerith a kiss on the cheek in welcome and whispering that she wanted to check on Alayne as well.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zerith laughed when he saw a crowd of centaur women gathering around Alayne’s tent. He could see the tent flap moving and tell that the horse-women were speaking to someone inside. Then, the horse-women backed away in surprise as Ger’alin sprinted out of the tent, running for his life with Alayne following after him, her night gown hiked to her knees with one hand while she waved a spear in the other.

“Ger’alin!” she screamed as she chased the man, “I can’t believe you told them I was your woman! What in the name of the Light possessed you? Get back here so I can stab you with this spear! Your woman, indeed! Why did Zerith let you live? Oh, no you don’t! Get out of that tree!”

“Is this a normal mating custom of your people?” one of the centaurs asked the three gawkers. Three pairs of eyes turned on the questioner. Zerith, Callie, and Dar’ja stared at the centaur for a moment before all three burst into laughter. Zerith managed to convince the horse-women that this was, indeed, some time-honored tradition of his people while Dar’ja and Callie gasped for air, laughing about the newly-invented ancient sin’dorei mating ritual called ‘the tree-run.’

~*~*~*~

“So, she didn’t kill you after all,” Zerith said, stifling a laugh. Ger’alin was walking back into the camp, carrying a sleeping Alayne in his arms.

“No, she didn’t,” the fighter said tightly. “The spear is still up the tree somewhere; I couldn’t find it in the dark. Then the little minx fell asleep waiting for me to climb down so she could kill me. I suppose it’s all over the camp by now,” he muttered.

“It is. There may be a few people in Winterspring who didn’t hear her screaming at you, if that’s any relief.”

“Oddly enough, it is.”

“Want me to carry her back to her tent?” Zerith offered.

“Thank you, but no. We came to an…agreement of sorts,” he muttered sullenly. “I think she’s been spending fartoo much time with Dar’ja.”

“I’ll be around shortly to sit with her so you can get some rest.”

“Again, thank you, but no,” Ger’alin said firmly. “I told you we came to an agreement. Part of it is that I’m to stand guard for her until everyone forgets about this whole incident,” he muttered. “It was either that or wear one of her dresses in the middle of the camp and sing some sappy love song,” he said in response to the shocked expression on Zerith’s face. “Go on. Get some sleep. I’ll take care of your sister as if she were my own.”

Watching the priest walk off, glancing occasionally over his shoulder and shaking his head, Ger’alin waited until he was out of sight before continuing on with his task. Alayne had extracted several promises from him before she finally let him climb down and sit with her until she fell asleep. She’d found the entire situation hilarious –once she’d calmed down, of course. After she’d finished laughing about it, they had talked about all manner of things from magic to history, the constellations and even cooking until Alayne nodded off. Kicking aside the tent flap and ducking in, Ger’alin set her down and tucked her in, thankful that she was asleep and couldn’t see the tenderness in his eyes. “You know,” he whispered to her sleeping face, “I would have agreed to watch over you, regardless.”

~*~*~*~

Dar’ja watched as Alayne went through another set of stances. Her blade work had improved by leaps and bounds over the past few weeks. The warlock was also becoming more adept at fighting with daggers and bare hands. Dar’ja sighed, wishing she could believe that the improvement was due to her own teaching. She admitted, reluctantly, that it was probably down to the amount of time Alayne spent with Ger’alin.

“I can’t believe you’re still letting him sleep in the same tent after the fit you threw when you first woke up,” Dar’ja muttered. Alayne stared at her quizzically as if wondering what she was talking about.

“Oh, that,” the warlock shrugged dismissively. “Well, it’s either put up with his snoring and complaining about having to sleep on the ground or tell our new allies that they were tricked into that rescue. I doubt the Warchief would be pleased to learn that we had managed to make an alliance and then promptly lost it.”

“Still, the way you nearly had a conniption just because of what he said…”

“Well, if everyone wants to think I’m the sort of woman who hops into bed with a man I barely know, then that’s their problem. Not mine. Speaking of that,” Alayne said, dropping her stance and sheathing the sword, “I never did get the details from you on how your evening with Zerith and my dress went. I want that dress back, by the way.”

“It…didn’t go as I expected,” the Blood Knight muttered. “He did like the dress…or me wearing it – he wasn’t too clear which – but he didn’t do anything other than comment on it and tell me that he wasn’t going to react.”

“Hm,” Alayne sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her chin pensively. “We’ll have to try something else, then. Maybe if we got him drunk.”

“Alayne…” Dar’ja growled.

“Very drunk.”

“Alayne, it’s not going to happen. He’s not like that.”

“I seem to remember someone telling me all men were like that,” Alayne grinned wolfishly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can trip him up somehow.”

“I don’t want to trip him up!” Dar’ja shouted. “I like how he is. I like how our relationship is. I don’t want to speed things up or change anything about it just yet.”

“Still, it’s not a half-bad idea.”

“You’re right. It’s not a ‘half-bad’ idea. It’s a completely-bad idea. Drop it.”

“If you’re sure about that…”

“I am.”

Alayne unbelted the sword, set it on the ground, and began moving through a series of warm-ups Dar’ja remembered Ger’alin using when he was preparing to demonstrate unarmed combat maneuvers. “Why the sudden change?” Dar’ja asked, thinking about the sudden switch from spells to swords.

“I just think it’d be a good idea for you two to quit tiptoeing around and get on with it. You both seem happy. Why wait?”

“No, I meant…never mind,” Dar’ja sighed.

“Seriously, life is too short and too uncertain. You two should go back to Silvermoon, get married – if that’s what’s holding him up – and get to work on repopulating the city. I’m sure you heard the same lectures and speeches the rest of us did,” Alayne muttered, flushing slightly at the last part. “You’re nearly old enough for your first fertile period, aren’t you?”

“Another five years for me, at least. I’m only twenty-four. And, honestly, I’m nowhere near ready to…”

“Zerith will be an excellent father. And I wouldn’t mind being an auntie.”

“I’m not ready for that yet, Alayne. And seriously, why are you so fixated on this?”

“Like I said…”

“You…are the oddest person I’ve ever met. Including Ger’alin.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Thank you nonetheless. Honestly, Dar’ja, do you want to spend the rest of your life out in the wilds like this? Never knowing if the next battle will be the one that tears you apart forever? Would you be content to sit behind the walls of Silvermoon, never knowing if he was coming back to you this time? Never having anything of his to keep part of him with you forever?”

“Alayne, that’s not the…”

“It is the point,” the warlock argued, stopping her exercises. “You should take Zerith back home and keep him there. He’s too valuable to keep risking himself like this.”

“And where would we be if you and Zerith hadn’t risked yourselves?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“No, it’s not. Now, while I appreciate your thoughts on this matter, my relationship is between me and Zerith and I’d really rather you stayed out of it.”

“Fine then,” Alayne muttered. “I’m going to go for a run down the canyon.”

The warlock jogged off before Dar’ja could remember that she’d been wanting to know why Alayne was suddenly so interested in melee combat instead of her magic. Deciding that it was pointless to try to continue talking to the other woman right now, Dar’ja headed back to Shadowprey Village. Zerith would be there going over the maps that Ger’alin had made of the Maurdine’s twisting territory.

~*~*~*~

Zerith smiled and nodded as Dar’ja entered the inn. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and then headed over to join him. Spread out on the table in front of him were various maps and notes from Ger’alin concerning the disposition of the Maurdine and their patrol routes. Zerith stacked them neatly and set them to one side as Dar’ja joined him at the table. He had ordered his lunch just moments ago and could use a break from his work.

“Still working the forms with Alayne?” he asked when Dar’ja settled in next to him. She sat in silence for a moment while the cook brought out the sandwiches he’d asked for and a pitcher of steaming tea. Deciding to let her speak in her own time, he dug in to his food. He’d skipped breakfast that morning to go observe a new fighting style that Tau’re and Davril were working on and was ravenous. “Ger’alin says she’s actually getting pretty good at that style of combat. He was wondering if she could do that and cast spells at the same time. I told him I’d heard of battle mages but I wasn’t sure what style of fighting they trained for. Still, perhaps it’s worth exploring especially since Tau’re and Davril have…”

“Alayne wants us to get married and have children,” Dar’ja said flatly, staring dully into space. A sudden crash brought her nearly to her feet. Zerith was staring at her with a blank expression. His hands were still curled as if holding a mug. He did not seem aware of the ceramic fragments or tea staining his robes.

“You have my attention,” he said calmly. “Alayne wants what?”

“She was just saying we should stop waiting around and get it over with.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. She was serious. I told her that neither of us was remotely ready for any such thing but she seems to have developed an obsession with it. This is the fourth time she’s mentioned it to me.”

“I think I need to have a talk with her. Excuse me,” he said politely.

“She’s gone for a jog. You may have to wait a while.”

“Then I will have a chat with Ger’alin. The way those two have had their heads together lately, it’s pretty likely he has a pretty good idea of what’s going through her mind.”

Zerith stood up, brushed his robes off, and then walked out of the inn. Glancing through the town, he noted that Ger’alin was not there. Grunting to himself, he took the road out of town and towards the Gelkis’s settlement. He found the Blood Knight just outside of Shadowprey Village sitting beneath the very tree Alayne had run him up. Studying Ger’alin, he noticed that the man had his eyes closed and a look of intense concentration on his face. Zerith approached him quietly. The dark-haired fighter seemed to be practicing an exercise that was set for most novice priests just learning to wield holy magic. “Sorry to interrupt you,” Zerith said calmly, “but I’d like to know just what in the name of the Dark Titan is going through Alayne’s head lately.”

“What?” Ger’alin replied, opening his eyes. He sighed when he saw Zerith glaring down at him. “Honestly, I have no clue. She’s been…skittish ever since we rescued her. I know she’s been trying to convince Dar’ja to take another stab at seducing you,” the Blood Knight admitted, his face flaming scarlet at the thought. “She’s even cornered me and asked me what exactly elven men find attractive in women. Trust me, I’ve had far too many conversations on that topic with her. She’s set on what she wants and what she wants is for you and Dar’ja – or rather, just you – to be back in Silvermoon. I think, in all honesty, she wants everyone back home. I think…I think her captivity has unsettled her and she’s overreacting because she doesn’t want anyone she cares about to ever be in that situation.”

“Understandable but…”

“She’s not rational.”

“Elaborate.”

“Zerith, I think she’s ill. She barely sleeps and when she does, her rest is filled with nightmares that have her tossing and turning, moaning and pleading. Her mind never gets a chance to rest.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. You’re not the one sharing a tent with her every night.”

“I’m not. Why are you still doing that, by the way? And don’t feed me that line about not wanting to anger the Gelkis by admitting you lied to them.”

“Because she trusts me and she’s not scared to be vulnerable around me,” he admitted. “And, she needs someone to watch over her. I’m willing to do it. I care about her like you do. But, she can’t seem to wrap her mind around the concept that she wouldn’t be “taking time away from Dar’ja” by asking you to watch over her and she’s terrified that if she admits to being afraid, you’ll send her away. She said something about it being too late to come clean or some nonsense.”

“That’s it,” Zerith said, spitting the words out between clenched teeth. “I want to talk to her myself.”

“She’ll probably be in our tent laying down,” Ger’alin offered. “She stopped by a few minutes ago saying her head hurt too much to continue her run. I was just going to go check on her and see if she wanted any lunch.”

The two men walked over to the large tent near the border between centaur and Horde territory. Ger’alin stepped inside and then let loose a sharp shout of pain as he slammed into the ground. “Ten points for a perfectly executed body slam,” the fighter muttered, “but minus twenty for timing. Zerith wants to talk to you.”

Zerith stepped into the tent, surprised to see Alayne rising from a crouch. She nodded to him and plastered a smile on her face. “Been planning the next battle?” she asked.

“I have,” he replied. “But, I want to talk to you about what you said to Dar’ja.”

“I didn’t say anything to her…”

“You want us to get married and have children and neither of us is even fifty years old yet.”

“Well, you’d both be happier if…”

“Isn’t that between she and I?”

“All right, all right,” Alayne muttered. “I’ll drop the subject.”

“No.”

“You don’t want me to drop it?” she asked, confused.

“No, I want to know what’s going on with you,” he said with forced calm. “I know you’re not sleeping well. I know you’ve been acting strange ever since you were captured. Actually, since before that. You’ve been acting oddly since Stromgarde. You run hot and cold and I can hardly keep up with you.”

“Nothing is going on with me,” she protested.

“Alayne,” Ger’alin sighed, pushing himself up onto his seat, “enough.”

Alayne chewed her lower lip and then helped the Blood Knight to his feet. They shared a look and then Ger’alin sighed and walked out of the tent. Alayne sighed and walked over to the raised sleeping platform. More than large enough for two people, the sleeping platform was covered with thick furs. It looked inviting in a primitive way. Still, Zerith wondered how anyone could sleep comfortably on something so lumpy. Alayne patted the area next to her and motioned for him to join her. He strode over and sat down. Despite how lumpy it looked, it was quite comfortable.

“I’m tired of being afraid,” she sighed. “I want to stop being afraid and start being brave.”

“Alayne, everyone’s afraid at some point or another.”

“No, just listen. I’ve been terrified for you, scared of myself, and finally frightened to death that one day it will be you who gets caught instead of me. I just…I just want everyone to be safe. The only way I can think of to make that happen is for all of you to go back to Silvermoon…”

“And would you come with us?”

“No,” she admitted. “I’d stay out here and do whatever needed to be done.”

“While I sat back in Silvermoon and worried about you?”

“You’d have Dar’ja to keep you occupied…”

“She can hardly make me stop thinking about my sister. Now, why don’t you tell me about what’s happened that has you so afraid? Maybe I can help put it in perspective for you.”

Alayne opened and closed her mouth several times. She seemed on the verge of telling him. However, before she could croak out a single word, she began sobbing and weeping wildly. Zerith wrapped his arms around her and let her cry herself out on his chest, praying that one day soon she would be able to talk about it. At least she had made the first admittance of a problem. That was a hopeful sign.

~*~*~*~

“Would you like me to bring you something back, Alayne?” Ger’alin asked as he finished polishing his sword and shield. Zerith had left several minutes ago and the Blood Knight had decided to go see how his tent-mate was faring. Alayne was laying down, a compress over her eyes, complaining of a headache from crying herself out on Zerith’s shoulder. She’d confided the entire conversation to Ger’alin who had listened intently, letting her relive the moments, passing no judgment and offering nothing but silent commiseration.

“No, thanks. I’ll probably be asleep by the time you get back anyway.”

“Fair enough. Zerith and I will be planning the last raid tomorrow. Do you want to take part in it or would you rather stay back here again? I’ve noticed that you’ve been having trouble concentrating enough to cast your spells when we drill. Actually, I’ve noticed that you’re having trouble concentrating, period,” he said pointedly.

“And I’ve noticed that you seem to be spending all of your free time sitting under a tree and staring at the ground like a novice mage just learning to sense arcane currents,” Alayne muttered defensively.

Ger’alin jumped and turned to stare at her in amazement. He hadn’t realized that anyone had noticed his attempts to teach himself what his instructors amongst the Blood Knights had failed to drum into him. “Oh no,” he said flatly, “let’s not divert the issue. Do you need more time to recover or do you feel stifled sitting on the side-lines? Don’t worry about convincing Zerith either way; I’ll take care of that for you.”

“I just want everyone to go home,” she sighed.

“I know that, Alayne. You’ve told me that before. I know that you are scared half to death right now.” He tossed the rag he’d been using on the ground and sat down on the bed at her feet. Twisting around, he lay on his stomach and studied what little of her face was not hidden by the compress. “I remember how long it took my partner back in Theramore to get back on his feet after he’d been held captive by the ogres – and they just put him in a cage for a day. They didn’t beat him black and blue like you were. But, you can’t hide away forever, Alayne. The world is a big place; sometimes a dangerous place. Zerith is no safer in Silvermoon than he is out here. Less, probably, if some of the goings-on I saw are tolerated as much as I suspect.”

“Don’t talk treason, Ger’alin.”

“Don’t try to mother me, Alayne,” he said lightly, tugging fondly on the lock of hair that covered half her face. “So, will you go or will you stay?”

“I’ll go,” she muttered. Ger’alin stood up and headed out. “Oh, and Ger’alin?” she called out, halting him. He turned to see her lifting the compress from her forehead and propping herself up on one elbow. “That rag goes over in the pile of things to be washed; not in the middle of the floor. I don’t care what you told the centaurs; I’m not picking up behind you all the time. I’m your friend; not your woman,” she teased.

~*~*~*~

“She’ll be coming along in the next one,” he whispered into Zerith’s ear. “And don’t stick her off in the reserves.”

“She’s ready go get back into the thick of things already?” Zerith said, his brow furrowing in surprise.

“She is,” Ger’alin replied.

“Then in the thick of things she shall be,” the priest said as he studied his plans again.

“Look,” the fighter sighed. “I know that she still hasn’t opened up to you about what’s really bothering her. Now, maybe you take that crying jag as a good sign but I’m thinking that perhaps we’ve both been wrong about how to get her to open up. I’ve discussed it with her often enough lately to realize that she’s got to work out what’s wrong on her own. I know you and Callie had been pressing her to try to open up but that seems to be the wrong tactic with Alayne. Something in her mind is not letting her confide in us. She needs to be left alone, I think, to work it out.”

“Considering you rarely leave her side lately, I guess you would know best.”

“Don’t snap my nose off,” Ger’alin muttered. “I’ve not laid a hand on her.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Zerith laughed. “I know that you’re doing what you’re doing because you’re trying to help take care of her. I appreciate it.”

“Good. Just don’t let Callie or Dar’ja start playing match-maker with us. Alayne actually has been getting a little frightened that someone might start pairing us together.”

“Don’t worry about that. Still, you’re the only other man I know of who can follow the paths her mind takes. Maybe…but, no. I don’t think she’s interested in anyone like that.” After a long pause, Zerith sighed and stretched out, tucking his hands behind his head and staring up at the cloudless blue sky. “Maybe she’s right, though.”

“What?”

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t be out here. Maybe, we never should have left Silvermoon.”

“You’re joking. If we’d stayed cooped up in Silvermoon, safe and sound, who would have killed Dar’khan? Or driven Arugal out? Or brought the Arathi Highlands to the Horde? Or any of the other things you two have led us to do? What honor, what glory would there have been staying in Silvermoon?”

“Alayne never would have lost control of herself in Stromgarde if we hadn’t been there,” Zerith pointed out. “I never would have been shot; she wouldn’t have been taken captive by the Burning Blade. I imagine we’d all be much happier if we’d stayed where we belonged.”

“And the Horde would still be looking at every single sin’dorei cross-eyed if you two hadn’t proven our worth to Thrall.”

“I think you forget that Alayne and I were never warriors like you, Ger’alin. Alayne, at least, shouldn’t be out here anymore.”

“So you’ll pack her off to Silvermoon? You think that’s the answer?”

“I don’t know what the answer is anymore.”

Ger’alin sighed and dug a pebble out of the ground. Flinging it into the distance, he sat, lost in thought for a while. Zerith closed his eyes against the glare of the sun and half-dozed, still tired from the day’s fighting.

“What if we went back just for a visit?” Zerith opened one eye and looked up at his friend. “Maybe that’s just what we all need right now; to finish this task and then take a break. I know I should return to the Blood Knights; there’s many things I need to learn. That’s one lesson I’ve got by heart after all this journeying,” Ger’alin muttered. “And, it would probably calm Alayne down a bit to have us all somewhere safe for a while. It’d give her a chance to come to grips with whatever’s bothering her and,” he laughed, “it’d give you a chance to court Dar’ja in a more relaxed setting.”

“Maybe that is what we need,” Zerith sighed. “We’ll make this battle a good one and then take a vacation until we’re all more settled.”

~*~*~*~

Alayne stood nervously waiting for the signal to strike. She’d been going over her spells in her mind, murmuring them beneath her breath to make certain she had the incantations correct. Ger’alin had been right that she’d had trouble casting her spells lately. The closer she let herself get to opening up, the more the other her, the one in the back of her head flogged her, telling her she couldn’t place all her troubles on her friends shoulders. Alayne had been fighting a non-stop internal war with herself for weeks and she was just about spent. She would try to confide in one of her friends, only to have the other her clamp her mouth shut, screaming at her for being weak, for failing to protect the others. The other one was driving her mad with her constant nagging, dredging up of her nightmares, and her contradictions. Alayne never knew, from one moment to the next, if the voice she heard would be cruel or kind.

“I’ve got to stop thinking about that and focus on the moment,” she muttered. A faint “yes, you do,” whispered in her ear. Muting it, she concentrated.

Below her, she could see the Gelkis and Ger’alin’s group galloping up the slope, whooping and hollering, drawing the main body of the Maurdine down upon them. That was her signal. Lifting a hand, she jerked her arm forward, signaling for her group to jump from their hiding places on high and hurry into range.

“I am with you, young one,” she heard a man whisper in her ear. “Fight well.”

Her nervousness left her, lifting away like a mist, and she felt the thrill of magic tingle through her blood as she began casting her spells. The voice that had lurked in the back of her head was held off, leaving her free to be as she was meant to be. She laughed as she skipped down the hill, leaping lightly off of rocks, skidding to a stop near the surging mass of Maurdine fighting to free themselves from the enemies encircling them. She lifted her hands and streaks of dark flame shot from them, engulfing the centaur, distracting them with its searing pain while the fighters, led by Ger’alin, chopped them down. On the other side of the fray, she could see Callie leaping from a Gelkis’s back to straddle a Maurdine centaur while she reached around before the creature could turn its half-human body and slit its throat. Alayne could see the heated joy of combat in her friend’s eyes and knew it was reflected in her own.

Back and back their surrounding cluster pushed the Maurdine, opening only to allow other centaurs to fall into the encircling trap. Once the entire group enclosed within the deadly surround was down, the fighters split apart, wheeling and flanking, to surround the next group. Further up the pass, other groups penned and held the rest of the Maurdine, some forming their own deadly enclosures where the terrain and numbers favored them. Zerith stood in the midst of the fighting, watching each group battle on and directing the healers with him where their energies were needed the most. He paused to give Alayne a tight-lipped but happy smile, overjoyed to see her more herself than she had been in weeks.

The battle stretched on, the Gelkis and their Horde allies pushing the Maurdine back. In vain, a pair of young centaur warriors tried to make for the enormous war-horn set at the top of a treacherous climb. Both were brought down quickly, frozen in place by the mages under Davril’s command and finished off by the fighters with Tau’re. By the time the sun set, the only remnants of the Maurdine clan were those who had hidden themselves deep within the mountain cave that gave them their name: Maraudon.

“Should we go flush them out?” Ger’alin asked after the fighting had ended. He was kneeling on the ground, trying to catch his breath, holding himself up with his sword. His shield was battered from the centaurs’ desperate blows and his shield arm still rang from them. Alayne sat next to him, just as winded, wiping blood from a gash on his forehead. He had waved off offers of healing, saying he just needed to catch his breath but more than content to let Alayne worry over him.

“Leave them,” Uthek said, snorting. “Let them hide in their dank caves. We will take their land and ensure that they never forget their cowardice in running from an honorable fight.”

“Then we are done here,” Zerith said, letting his legs fold beneath him. There had been few serious injuries, but he’d still had his hands full. “Tomorrow, we will go back to Silvermoon to rest awhile,” he announced.

Alayne laughed in delight. “So, you’ve decided to listen to me for once! When shall I start baking the cake for the wedding?” Zerith picked up a handful of loose pebbles and tossed them at her.

“Oh, you are to be mated?” one of the Gelkis centaurs asked. “We must celebrate that tonight along with our victory over the Maurdine!”

“What? NO!” Zerith shouted, but it was too late. He glared at Alayne and Ger’alin who were both roaring with laughter. The centaurs were wasting no time in spreading the word and the other members of the Disorder of Azeroth were shaking off their fatigue to offer congratulations and best wishes.

“Now you get to see what it’s like!” Ger’alin barked as he wiped tears from his eyes.

~*~*~*~

“I’m not certain that a marriage made under duress counts as legally valid. And, it was under duress considering the number of spears that were pointed at us and the fact that neither of us wanted to be responsible for ruining our newly-forged alliance with the centaur,” Zerith muttered for the hundredth time when Callie asked him, yet again, how he was enjoying married life. “Still, I’m going to beat her with a stick when we get off this zeppelin.”

“Oh, come on, it was all in good fun,” Callie laughed. “Everyone will take it as seriously as you and Dar’ja take it. Except for us,” she amended. “We’ll tease you about it for the rest of your lives. Anyhow, if you want revenge on Alayne, just go down and talk to her about food. You’ll get to watch her go green around the gills and she’ll probably break all of the bones in Ger’alin’s hand again. Go on, you’ll feel better if you do.”

“Is she still throwing up? At least we’re over the ocean now. I pity anyone who had the misfortune to be beneath our flight path when we were over land.”

“Yes, she is. Dar’ja’s down there tormenting her. I think Ger’alin might get mad at your dear, sweet, loving wife in a few minutes and chuck her off the back of the zeppelin if you don’t go down there and put an end to it.”

“Gah!” Zerith choked. “I’d forgotten completely about that!” he said as he ran down the stairs, nearly tripping himself on the hem of his robes. “Dar’ja said she’d…”

“Hello, Zerith,” Ger’alin said carefully when he heard the clamber and turned to see the priest descending. “Think you could get your missus to back off a little before your sister spits up her shoes?”

“I’m not nearly done with her,” Dar’ja muttered angrily. “It will be a sunny spring day in Northrend before I’m done with her.”

“It’s not entirely her fault, Dar’ja! How was either of us to know that the Gelkis would just up and actually marry you two like that? Does either of us look like we’re experts in centaur customs? Besides, considering that none of us are old enough to be classed as adults, certainly there’s some way to have it considered legally invalid! Some way that does not involve making Alayne pass out from dehydration!”

“I’m sorry,” Alayne gagged as she tried to stand up straight. She and Ger’alin were standing on the outer balcony of the zeppelin where she had been hunched over the railing. She turned to face Dar’ja and to apologize for the thousandth time.

“Oh, it’s quite all right, Alayne,” Dar’ja cooed, her voice larded with honey. “We’ll just go out to the Well of the Sun and have a nice big feast to celebrate the occasion. I guess we should have tender, juicy, rare roast just oozing with sauce since it was such a primitive…” she trailed off as the other woman paled again and bent over the rail. Ger’alin struggled between holding Alayne steady and going over to strangle Dar’ja.

“Dar’ja, stop it,” Zerith said calmly.

“Oh, that’s right, take your sister’s part!”

“Ger’alin, is she finished?” the priest asked, ignoring Dar’ja. The fighter looked over the rail and, paling himself, nodded, swallowing hard as if he might be sick in a minute himself. “Good. Carry her up and tell Callie to keep her trap shut for five minutes, would you?” Not waiting to see if Alayne could steady herself, Ger’alin reached down, lifted her gently to his shoulder, and hurried out before she could be sick again. A yelp followed by a string of curses attested to his failure to accomplish that. Smiling to himself, Zerith shook his head and turned to face Dar’ja.

The woman sat with her back against the bulkhead, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms hanging over them with her head down. Her face was flushed, either with anger or embarrassment. Letting her stew for a moment, Zerith adopted the most stern pose he could, recalling all the times he’d gotten in trouble with his father for teasing his little sisters.

“Are you calm, now?” he asked, careful to keep his voice perfectly neutral.

“No,” Dar’ja muttered sullenly. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ‘calm’ again. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life – including when Ger’alin knocked me out in front of Lady Liadrin and all the other Blood Knights! I don’t think I’ll ever get over this one. This was a joke too far. Married? Not that I object to that,” she added hastily, “I would just have preferred to wait another few decades and then get to set the date and conditions of my own wedding instead of making some hasty vows while surrounded by a herd of spear-wielding half-horses!”

“You’d better learn to live with what happened,” he continued in the same tone. “You can’t go all of your life blaming someone else for your problems.” He took a deep breath to steady himself when she glared up at him, hurt and anger in her eyes. “First, you blamed Ger’alin for the bad start you made with him. Then you tried to blame me for the way you acted towards me. Now, you’re trying to blame Alayne for something you know you and I could have put a stop to ourselves. Yes, I know, she started it by making that joke about us getting married. Still, at least they asked you if you wanted to accept me as your mate. You could have said “no” right then and put a stop to the whole business without causing offense to our allies. Yes, it would have been awkward but everyone would have understood why you’d said that.” Dar’ja muttered something beneath her breath. Allowing a little of the anger he was feeling into his voice, he continued, “Why didn’t you?” She muttered again. “Speak up, woman!” he growled.

“Because I didn’t want to say ‘no!’” she shouted. Zerith blinked, taken aback and warmed by her statement. He wished she’d look up at him right then instead of staring at her knees.

“Well, then,” he said lightly and dryly, “you can’t go blaming it all on Alayne and making her sick with guilt over the matter. She meant it as a joke, Dar’ja. Not as something intended to get us married by the Gelkis. You can’t blame it all on her.”

Dar’ja did look up at him then and smiled tremulously, seeing the warmth and affection replacing the sternness in his face. “No, I suppose I can’t,” she whispered. Leaning her head back against the bulkhead, she sighed, “I suppose I should go up now and apologize to her. I had her puking for at least a good half hour.”

“You could do that,” Zerith agreed happily, “or, you could stay down here with me and help me figure out howwe are going to get back at her for this whole mess.”

“Ooh! I just love a man who likes a good prank war!” she laughed.

“And I love you, too,” he said, more seriously. Kissing her lightly on the forehead, he changed the subject, “So, do you have any ideas on what to do? After all,” he added, “we are a team now.”

~*~*~*~

“Where’d Ger’alin and Alayne go?” Zerith asked as he and Dar’ja stepped off the zeppelin. Callie stood waiting for them on the landing, her face guardedly blank and not making any jokes.

“Oh, Ger’alin decided to just carry her on down the tower instead of letting her go at her normal snail’s pace. He muttered something about finding a lake as he passed. Whether it was for him to wash off in or to drown her in, I don’t know. He told me to take Lucky on to the stables. I’m just waiting for them to unload the mounts now. Are you feeling better?” she asked cautiously.

“We’re fine,” Dar’ja said with a grin, wrapping an arm around Zerith. “We’d better go find those two before one of them kills the other.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the Forsaken agreed quickly. “You two go on. I’ll take care of the animals.”

“Where’s the nearest lake?”

“Just head south until you hear Thalassian cursing. That will, more likely than not, be Ger’alin.”

Zerith shrugged and laughed, putting an arm around Dar’ja’s shoulders as they walked down the tower and skirted the ruins of Undercity’s upper levels. Near the border with SilverpineForest, they found Ger’alin wading in the lake in his armor, scrubbing the backs of his calves and dumping water out of his boots. Once he was satisfied that he was fairly clean, he waded out of the water and sat next to a very pale, very tired-looking Alayne. Zerith motioned for Dar’ja to be quiet while the pair of them sneaked up close enough to hear what the paladin and the warlock were saying.

“…the Light, try to hold it in next time,” Ger’alin was growling

“Then don’t toss me over your shoulder on my stomach, Ger’alin,” Alayne said in response. “It’s kind of hard not to throw up in that position.”

“I wouldn’t know,” the fighter muttered, leaning back on his elbows and casting a glance at his friend. “I’ve not been picked up and tossed over someone’s shoulder since I was about yea high,” he said, lifting a hand about three feet off the ground.

“I can see where it would be difficult to pick you up,” Alayne muttered. “If I ever feel like breaking my back, I’ll let you know so I can give it a try.”

Dar’ja stifled a laugh at the mental image that brought up and glanced over to see Zerith doing the same.

“So, do you want to go back and find the others or would you rather lie out here all night being miserable?” Ger’alin was asking.

“I’ll take the second option,” Alayne sighed. “Dar’ja hates me. I suppose that means that Zerith will have to hate me now.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff, woman? Okay, I’ll grant you that Dar’ja does probably hate you right now. She will probably make your life a living hell for a while. She does that to everyone, except Zerith, for some reason.”

“She loves Zerith, moron.”

“I gathered as much when she said she’d take him as her mate,” Ger’alin muttered dryly. “Give me some credit, would you? Now, just because she’s mad at you, it does not stand to reason that he would be.”

“Yes it does.”

“No, it does not.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it does not, Alayne.”

“Yes it does.”

“Light help me, we are going to be out here all night. No. It. Does. Not.”

“Can we just go back to Silvermoon? I figure I can sneak into Murder Row and hide out there until things blow over. Jez’ral will hide me and if he doesn’t, Mir’el would.”

“No, we can’t just do that. Come on,” Ger’alin said, standing up and pulling Alayne to her feet. “At the very least, you need to eat something to replace everything you threw up courtesy of the lovely Dar’ja.”

“I’m comfortable here,” she whined as she let herself be pulled to her feet. “It’s just you and me out here. I don’t have to worry about…”

“About what?” Ger’alin asked.

“About a lot of things,” she said, putting a hand to her forehead.

“Look, I’ve learned not to press you, but what things?”

“About what Zerith will think…” she started, suddenly closing her mouth so quickly that Ger’alin could hear her teeth click together as her jaws slammed shut.

“Think about…?” he prodded.

“I…I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I just can’t talk about it. He’s got to hate me, now. Look at all the trouble I’ve caused…”

Ger’alin sighed but let it drop. “Why is it that you can talk to me just enough to make me really start to worry about you, but you can’t even tell Zerith or Callie why you can’t talk to them?”

“You’re different,” she said dismissively. “Zerith is…well, he’s so…nice and sweet.”

“And I’m not?” Ger’alin asked in mock offense.

“You’re asking me this? The woman you got into a drinking contest with? Maybe we should go have another of those,” she suggested, trying to change the subject.

“Oh no,” he begged off, “waking up on the floor of your room and thinking I’d dishonored you once was enough for me, my dear.” Laughing, he put an arm around her shoulders to steer her towards the road and strode off, keeping his pace to hers. “However, if we could keep the bounds of the competition to something other than ‘drink until we both pass out,’ I might be willing to be convinced.”

Dar’ja and Zerith waited until the other two were well out of range before coming out of their hiding places. Both wore stricken expressions, staring off the way the other two had gone.

“Oh, I went way too far, didn’t I?” Dar’ja asked rhetorically.

“I suppose you didn’t help matters, but she’s had this crazy idea that I’m going to hate her for a while now. I don’t know where she got it from, but I’m going to find out. One way or another.”

“Let’s go catch up to them. Maybe if I apologize, she’ll feel better and won’t think you’re mad at her for my sake.”

“Maybe. But why would she think that to begin with?”

~*~*~*~

“There you are,” Callie said as she ducked into the Blue Moon tavern. The four sin’dorei were seated around a large, circular table, cups of wine sitting untouched in front of them. Ger’alin and Alayne both stared at their wineglasses as if both were wishing for something substantially stronger. At least Alayne no longer appeared nauseous.

“What took you so long?” Zerith asked. “We’ve been waiting for you so I could make a toast,” he said, shoving a glass of wine at the Forsaken.

“I had to stable the animals over in Brill. There wasn’t enough room here. Before I forget, here are the claim tickets for them so you can pick them up whenever you want.”

“Thank you,” Dar’ja murmured as she pocketed her and Zerith’s tickets. “Now, Zerith, your toast?”

“Oh, yes, thanks for reminding me,” he laughed. Standing up on his chair, he tapped a fork against his wine glass until the entire tavern was looking at him. Alayne, Ger’alin, and Callie glanced at each other, wondering what was about to come. Dar’ja just sat smirking, holding her glass in her hand. “Um, thank you for your attention,” the priest started lamely. Everyone in the tavern muttered, wondering what the mad elf was doing. “I’d just like to take a moment to raise a toast to my dearest friends. Ger’alin, Callie: thank you for all of your muttered comments appraising the state of my relationship with Dar’ja. I know you thought we couldn’t hear them, but we could. Alayne, my dearest little sister, thank you for opening your big mouth and getting us married over in Desolace.” The three mentioned buried their faces in their hands in humiliation. Alayne’s face went pale as if she were about to be sick again and Ger’alin shifted to make certain he was out of the line of fire. “I’m not finished!” Zerith called out over the rising din of the tavern. “I’d also like to toast my dear wife, Dar’ja. It may not have happened the way either of us thought it would, but we may as well enjoy what we have. Alayne, Ger’alin, thank you both so much. Dar’ja, shall we drink to our long and happy marriage?” he suggested as he emptied his cup and sat back down. “Um, guys. I was being serious, you know,” he said to his table mates. “Really, thanks.”

Ger’alin lifted his head and stared at the pair, seeing the sincerity in their eyes. With a laugh, he clapped Alayne on the back while Callie cheered. “That was so sweet,” he confided, “that I think Alayne’s going to throw up!”