Prologue
After years of the cold, unyielding winter that possessed me so fully that I destroyed countless lives in service to the Lich King, I have returned to my homeland. The scar Arthas and his Scourge had torn into our land still leads the way to Quel'thalas. Rather than walk around, I trudge along the same path my former master took, decimating with vengeance the few remnants of undead that continue to wander aimlessly along the way. It does little to unburden my soul.
Half a day's journey brings me to our beloved city, broken in half from the explosion that resulted from the Sunwell being used to bring Kel'thuzad to back from death. So many fragments of the elven paladin I was sing to me from the walls of my old home. Staggering a bit, I carry on. I head not to the main city... I am not yet prepared for that trial. Instead I set off for Sunstrider Isle, to wander again in the fields of my youth. This trek feels more burdened than my hike through the scar, avoiding as much contact with my kinsmen as I am able.
The island still retained much of its beauty. I am very much out of place, a set steel blue armor covering much of my body, reflecting little light. Overwhelmed at the thought that the only scar upon this place might be myself, I turn to head back to the main city. As I walk away, my frosted eyes happen upon a beauty, dressed in crimson mail, attacking one of the lynx that roam these fields. Her emerald eyes flash with intensity as she delivers a fatal blow to the beast, then regarding her kill, a singing laughter floats to my ears. The corners of my lips painfully move upwards to a small smile... how odd that something so common should feel so unnatural. The lovely young blood elf then notices me watching her. Instead of the fear I expect, she grins at me in her triumph, her delicate form, which does not betray the power held within, almost dancing to the spot where I stand.
"Ella'dora is my name...," her head turns at a slight angle, taking in my features before continuing, "...death knight."
Ella'dora had regarded me without fear, knowing exactly what I was. Honestly, I was a little taken aback. The only emotion I could see in her astonishingly beautiful face was curiosity.
"I... am Kherighan." Even after all these years, the hollow echo of my voice still seemed like a foreign entity.
Tilting her head to the left again, a brilliant smile radiated in my direction.
"Very well, Kherighan. Why don't you make yourself useful and assist me with my training?"
In that moment, I knew I loved her, though the ice on my heart still dulled the sensation. With time, perhaps it would fully melt away and I could feel again...
The Turning of Kherighan
The day was overcast, a low rumbling rolled through the clouds. A lone Sin'dorei paladin looked up and wondered, Where has the light gone? The gray had fallen on his eyes, penetrating them till they looked half dead. No strong emotions. Just dulled hurt of someone who'd lost everything and felt he had no more to lose, except the thin strands of his defeated soul. He felt cold and labored to breathe. It was if a sheet of ice had suddenly formed over his chest. Kherighan had witnessed his comrades fall before the onslaught of scourge, the endless waves of eyeless ghouls tearing though the land in a necromantic frenzy. None of that mattered now. There was no feeling left. After watching his beloved Nortiana devoured by the soulless beings, he found no more reason to fight. The light had left him. Now, lying here on the border of the Ghostlands and the Plaguelands, Kherighan labored for breath, though he truly no longer wanted to breathe.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps stirred the ground. Kher turned his head towards the being that was moving towards him. He lay under a twisted ashen tree, flat on his back, one hand clutching a worn two-handed broadsword that was caked with the coagulated blood of the undead. He beheld a man covered in heavy armor, eyes glowing blue under a steel skull-like helm. There was no mistake, this was the death knight Arthas. Betrayer of Lordaeron, destroyer of Quel'thalas...
Arthas' lips moved under the shadow of the helm, emitting a deep, commanding voice that was beyond that of a human. "What shall I do with you, young paladin?" The glowing blue eyes shifted to a nearby ghoul that had crept up, jaw cocked to the side allowing a mucus-like saliva to drip from the lower left corner. The sockets regarded Kherighan with malevolent intent. He could only assume the being was to devour him. Arthas moved his hand back in a gesture to swat the deformed corpse. Apparently the wretch had retained enough self-awareness to recognize the threat to its existence, cringing and backing away. Arthas glanced at the ghoul, then back at Kherighan.
Reading into one of the many destinies Kherighan was regarding as his ultimate fate, Arthas offered, "No, that is not what I intend for you."
A cruel smile curled the corners of the Lich King's lips. He lifted the runeblade Frostmourne with one arm, pointing it at Kherighan's near lifeless form. "You shall become as I. A paladin turned death knight. And you will know true power... true purpose."
Frostmourne glowed eerily, a light blue light creeping from the edges. All Kherighan Dawntreader could do was watch helplessly, knowing what he'd become. After this act he'd be the enemy of all he believed in, destroyer of all he had sought to protect... and yet... it did not matter to him. The reason for his life no longer was here, and for a brief moment, a desire to make the world burn with his anguish overwhelmed him. This was all that Frostmourne needed. The Lich King's power seized on the anger and pain that wracked his soul, twisting it into nightmares, rewriting his past to one of sorrow and betrayal. Kherighan felt nothing now but rage, dulled by grief but ever present. As Frostmourne's essence seeped into every pore on his body, a single tear froze in the corner of his eye, then ignited into bright sapphire flame which engulf both of his eyes. Bracing himself with his sword, Kherighan pulled himself from the ground, his entire body searing with frost. The will of the Lich King bound him, and he would follow without question. Kher glanced at the ghoul that had regarded him as a meal just a moment ago, sneering viciously. The wretch instinctively tried to run, but with unseen hands Kherighan pulled it back to him, bringing down his battle worn sword with such force as to cleave the monstrosity in two. Arthas regarded the action with slight amusement, then turned his gaze in the direction of Light's Hope chapel.
"Come, my death knight. We have much to accomplish."
Glades
Starting from his nightmare, Kherighan reached for his runed axe, leaping to his feet where once he lay prone. The land about him was not decayed and littered with shuffling scourge. No plague-ridden mushrooms the size of small buildings released spores into the air. The tree above him was not black and knotted. A few traces of sweat inched their way down from his dark hairline to his brow. If it were only a nightmare-
Kherighan shook his head attempting to bury the memories of the day he'd become a creature of pestilence. He was now amidst the gilded woodlands just east of Quel'thalas. On a soft patch of verdant grass lay Ella, her fair form adorned in a red dress. Her emerald eyes fluttered open as she gazed up at Kherighan.
"You are not one for a long nap, my dear."
A slight smirk slyly masked the concern she felt for her beloved. She did not ask about his nightmares, nor attempt to learn of it second hand. Yet rumors had spread regarding Kherighan since his arrival in their homeland. Faint, broken tales of a berserker, cold and cruel. Of his blatant slaughter of hundreds of thousands of lives: human, orc, elf... He had been a harbinger of the Lich King. Ella could not imagine the man before her being the executor of such deeds. Or perhaps she could, but did not want to believe it.
Kherighan let the blade of the axe sink into the ground as he slowly lowered the massive weapon. He did not release it... he hardly ever let it leave his person. The fact that Ella'dora was able to get him to dress in civilian clothing was an achievement in and of itself. Today he wore a loose white shirt, plain charcoal pants and some dull black boots. She would have to do something about introducing some color into his ensemble next time... but one battle at a time.
Ella wrinkled her nose and said, "We are quite aways from the Scar. You needn't have brought your axe."
With the word axe, Ella waved her delicate looking hand dismissively. She did not like the thing, imbued with Arthas' power and forged with Kher's own tortured soul. When she looked at it, it seemed almost a rival for his affection. The thought that a... thing... could be as precious to him as she did not sit well with her. Not at all.
Not seeming to understand the underlying intent in her words, Kherighan replied, voice otherworldly as always, "There are always menacing creatures about. They do not need unholy earth to exist. Even here. I am proof enough of that."
A petite frown tugged down on the corners of Ella's lips. "You are not evil, or a creature. You were used. You need to stop punishing yourself."
Walking to where she lay, Kher sat behide Ella. "I do not deserve your love. Neither can I deny my wanting of it. I should turn away away from you, for the things I have done are beyond forgiving. I should not exist. The Light should scour me clean from this world. That would be justice."
"The Light forgives," Ella countered, "Do not forget we Sin'dorei stole the light to become paladins. We sought to draw it from higher beings, and even as such those beings of the Light forgave us. It does wants you to exist, for if you do not how could you make amends?" Ella raised an hand, caressing Kherighan's cheek and she gently turned his head to hers. "And I would rather not exist if you did not, my love." She kissed him tenderly, drawing him closer to her. Kherighan's grip on his axe loosened, till he let it go entirely, using the hand to cradle the silken skin of Ella's back. The axe tipped away lazily, as if caught in a slowing spell. As it landed in the blades of grass, inaudible to all except those attuned to such things, the axe hissed in discontent.
Silent
The earth is scorched, black and shadowed. Faintly living trees sway uneasily as a silent breeze weaves its way through their branches. Unnatural jerks of rotting limbs dangling from darkened corpses can be seen as they meander through the desecrated land without direction. Ghostly wraiths glare out at the world that abandoned them, jealous of those still living. They are more than willing to relieve them of their warmth and drag them into the cold to suffer along side them.
Something catches all of the undead in the area's attention. Elven wretches, members of the undead for several years now, look to the northwest, suddenly called. The desecrator's power is near. An unheard order is reached by their uplifted ears... or where ears were once perched. As one, like a writhing mass, the scourge move towards the call. It beckons them on, as flickering flame drawing gnats and flies closer.
The power needed fear. It needed to be sated. It needed its master.
Soil from the scar caked their awkward feet. As they touched the grass it wilted, leaving behind a trail marking the trek they made towards their objective. The machinations of their minds had been lost long ago. They moved purely by instinct, increasing their momentum as they tread nearer to the force which called them. Swarming over the rolling hills, only parted by the trees and rivers along the way, they flayed any manner of critter or beast that should happen to unwittingly come across the mob. There at last, it was, laying in the grass next to a pair of the living, the runed axe Sceratus.
A pair of flaring blue eyes suddenly turned and glared upon the mass. Though unheard, Sceratus began to sing with macabre joy as the death knight who owned those blue eyes swiftly snatched up the unholy weapon and dashed forward to meet the undead congregation. The first zombie to enter combat with the death knight found itself staring at the lower half of its decrepit body as it ran a few more steps, then toppled over in an gangling heap. It's upper torso had been cut cleanly away from just under the ribs up. It began to crawl toward its assailant, but its movement quickly stopped as the blade came down and split the zombie's head in two. Ichor flew from the blade as it came down again and again upon the assailants it had called. Battle, war, death. In the hands of its master there was no end to the destruction it would bring on the world. But... the woman...
Behind the death knight, a young paladin female chanted, hands glowing gold as healing spells were called to protect her lover. Her interference did not go unnoticed. Several of the pack turned their attention to her, scrambling across the glade in an almost worg-like manner. Unarmed, the paladin looked about for anything that could be used to defend herself. Nothing. Desperately, she called upon the Light's divine protection. The air about her shimmered as a shell surrounded, protecting her from all harm. From the corner of his eye, the death knight saw the danger she was in. The spell his beloved had invoked would not last long. He moved all his weight to his left leg and pivoted, leaning back slightly to put all his strength behind the next swing of his devious weapon. A few dozen cleaved bodies flew in all directions. The death knight then did a full twist of his body, stopping himself with his right foot and pushing off of it to launch himself towards the undead that were after the paladin. Leaping into the air, he brought Sceratus down on the one closest to her. It was split at a slight angle, from the top of its misshapen head to its the side of its waist. The organs inside the monster had long since decayed to nothing. Only a sap like blackened ooze escaped the areas where it was split.
The axe's blood lust was fulfilled, and the inaudible din that had brought the scabbed ghouls and zombies to the location suddenly ceased. The purpose that had driven them to this area no longer present, the corpses looked puzzled, if that were possible. Some seemed to writhe in pain, as this area was fully engulfed in sunlight. The death knight was stilled decimating all that were near him. Those that could get away scattered in the direction of the Scar, though it was not fear that sent them but familiarity. In the death knight's frenzy he repeatedly smashed the last undead creature into an oily paste as he brought the blunt end of Sceratus again and again. The spell of protection fell away from the paladin, releasing her to move about again. Breathing heavily, she walked over to her protector and placed a hand on his shoulder. His clothing was splattered with black blood and dirt. He sharply turned, as if to attack her. Catching himself, a fog escaped his lips as he exhaled roughly and fell to his knees.
Apology
Foul smoke puffed achingly from the crude pyre Kherighan had made in the Eversong Woods. The decomposing filth he had cut down earlier could not be left for the beasts of the glades to consume, lest they become infected and pose a danger to the innocents of the city. His brow furrowed as he regarded the results of his massacre. The maw of an undead lackey was locked in a silent scream, which was no doubt the final act of its living counterpart. Hard to imagine that this might have once been a breathing being, that this mouth could have laughed, or eyes have shed tears. There was also the possibility that in years previous it may have actually fought alongside him. Kherighan heaved the carcass onto the fire to be consumed.
Ella'dora had consecrated the ground about the flames. She looked not afraid, but concerned for Kher. He had decimated ranks of the undead before her eyes with such ease. She had seen the unadulterated rage within him, which was once again hidden behind that stoic face of his. He now looked forlorn as he tossed the last of the bodies on the pyre. The whole event had been so sudden, now she had time to wonder what had drawn the ghouls to the two of them in the first place.
Kherighan's clothing stuck to his body, face still spattered with the blood of his victims. In Ella's mind an image flashed of him in full armor standing amongst a recently harvested wheat field, pale golden with autumn's touch, obscured in places by the bodies of horde and alliance alike. Fierce and terrible, the image of his past turned towards her with the same look of rage she'd seen just moments ago... and it was gone.
Embers float up into the air from the intensity of the heat. A faint orange glow from the fire highlighted the elve's silhouettes as the sun faded into the horizon.
Ella spoke lowly, "This was not a chance encounter. Something drew the creatures to us."
Kher answered her merely by nodding, not looking in her direction but down at Sceratus. The axe crackled lightly with energy along the runes engraven into the blade. He suspected the axe of this treachery. His control of the weapon had always been hard won. All of his anger and contempt for this world had been poured into it when he had emblazoned those runes. That he still carried it was mystery to him, but he could not let go of it. Or perhaps, it was the other way around.
Looking up, Kher locked eyes with his love and spoke, "We should head back to the city. I would suspect standing here in the dark would only be inviting more chaos." And so they walked, slowly side by side to Quel'thalas. Ella placed a hand on one of the few clean patches still visible on Kher's shirt. The guards at the city entrance watched them with interest as they passed, particularly at Kherighan's appearance. There was little trust for the knights of the Ebon Blade. The recent defection of their ranks to the horde and alliance wasn't trusted. These warriors had fought for Arthas. The Sin'dorei in particular had hard feelings on the matter, given their once great city was brought to this ruin by Arthas, the first and leader of their accursed breed.
Ella led Kher through the city streets to her quaint domicile. His first visit back after the defection had been met with fear and suspicion. Word had reached them of the mass dissension of death knights from Arthas, so the guards did not stop him from entering, but they also did not interfere as the denizens of Quel'thalas threw rocks and rotting food at the one considered a betrayer of their race. He had gone alone, telling Ella to stay behind as he went to speak to the leader of the sparse remnants of the blood elves. Now, though there was still fear, Kherighan was less reviled.
Drawing a warm bath in a guest room, Ella left Kherighan to wash the remains of war from his body. Alone for the moment, he regarded the scars he bore upon him. In one battle, he had be run through with four swords and still defeated all his assailants. He'd been an unstoppable juggernaut under Arthas's thrall. Sighing, he lowered himself into the bath and removed the evidence of his recent battle.
Later, after they'd both cleaned up, they sat together in the living room, moonlight peeking in past the curtains that clung to a nearby balcony. Sceratus was locked away in a weapons chest a few rooms down the hall. Ella'dora and Kherighan seemed lost in thought, not sure what to say to the other. Ella broke the silence.
"You are quite ferocious in battle."
Kherighan flinched, yet offered a slight smile, "Monsters generally are."
"That isn't what I meant and you know it." Ella'dora rolled her lovely green eyes, shaking her head.
"But it is the truth. There is an ugliness inside me that I want to rid myself of. It could hurt you, and I could never bear to hurt someone I love like that again."
Kherighan's cringed at the word 'again' even as it left his lips. A vision of a burning chapel moved forward from the back of his mind, and a building next to it. The words of another blood elf woman trying to reach him, to remember who he was, to see what he had become.
Taking note of his reaction, but not pursuing, Ella responded, "I'm stronger than you give me credit. I am not blind to the fact that there are things in your past you can not change." Her eyes flickered over to the lazily passing moon. "However, you have changed who you are. I see you have a greater destiny than you have the foresight to see." Turning back to Kher, she smirked, "You have been stupid like that ever since we met, but I swear I will make you see."
Startled by her gentle jest, Kherighan let out a short laugh. "You are impossible to deny, my dear Ella. I'm sorry I ever gave the indication that I doubted you, or your resolve. In truth, you are my strength."
Ella'dora stood up and walked towards Kher. She wore a simple red gown adorned with an elegant braided cord tied about the waist. Her feet were bare, leaving little marks upon the marble floor as she made her way to him, her relaxed hands linked behind her back. Upon reaching him, she leaned forward and kissed him softly.
After a few moments, Ella removed her lips from Kherigan's and leaned in close to his ear. She whispered to him, that beautiful smirk finding its way to the corner of her tender lips. "Now that you've finally seen how utterly amazing I am, maybe you'll stop doubting what I see in you."
Now Kherighan looked out to the moon. He still doubted himself, but he felt he could not disappoint the angel who now draped her arms around his neck.
Moving On and Meeting the Dark Lady
Brilliant and inviting, the sun's rays cascaded past the velvet curtains of the balcony. It brushed its warmth upon Kherighan's chilled face as he lay upon the bear skin rug that adorned Ella's floor. She lay next to him, arm draped across his chest as she slumbered. As the sunlight moved over her fingers, she stirred. Opening her eyes slightly, she looked upon Kher's face, flashed a small smile, and buried her face in his chest as she hugged him. Kher ran his fingers through the silky golden and amber strands of hair that flowed from her head. He let the moment flow through him, wishing it to last forever.
Ella sat up and stretched, arching her back, arms reaching towards the roof.
"Shall we get something to eat, my dear one?" Ella grinned from ear to ear as she spoke. She seemed quite content today.
Raising an eyebrow, Kherighan replied, "Yes, then we should pack for a journey. After yesterday's events, I think we need to further your training. And...," Kher's eyes flashed towards the room where Sceratus was locked away, "there is something I must look into as well."
His response brought a look of excitement and caution to Ella's eloquent features. She was looking forward to learning from Kherighan. He had, at one time, been a powerful and renowned paladin amongst her people. He'd been among the first few to push the Scourge back from their home to allow them to begin its reconstruction. It may be this fact that stopped them from killing him on sight when he returned. Still, this other thing he spoke of, she felt a slight chill when she heard those words.
Holding her questions about this other thing for the time being, Ella inquired, "And where shall we be going?"
"To begin, Lordaeron. I wish to speak with Lady Windrunner." Kherighan's voice seemed to be imbued with more power than normal when speaking the name of the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken. Ella might have taken a step back were it any other who spoke it than he. She did not like the Undercity, mostly because it was full of Forsaken. Sure, they had attained freedom from the power that bound them, but... they were undead. And they tended not to care about bathing. I mean, they live in a dank dungeon sewer, she thought to herself. She looked to Kherighan to see a look of wicked amusement on his face.
Realizing she had not hidden her disgust very well, Ella replied, "I'm guessing this discussion with the Dark Lady is not in regards to my training, but this other thing to which you've being very vague and secretive about?"
"You are correct. From there we will set out to Light's Hope. There we will work on furthering your skills. After that..." Kher's gazed wandered to the west. "We shall see."
After a rather large breakfast (Ella'dora got the distinct feeling she would not be eating so well for a good while), they packed a few provisions for the trek ahead of them. It was a couple days hike from the Undercity to Light's Hope, and they would not be mounted. The couple made their way to the raised hall where the current ruler of Quel'thalas, Lor'themar Theron, stood talking with his advisers. He looked their way briefly as the passed to the room behind, gaze lingering a bit longer on Kherighan, who returned the look evenly. In the back room there was a raised platform upon which rested a teleportation orb. This led straight to the upper streets of Lordaeron. Kher always felt strange using this magic, more the domain of mages than anything he'd ever been himself. Unlike the death gate, which felt only like passing through a darkened doorway and emerging in another room, using the stone almost felt as if being pulled in all directions, then being snapped back together violently.
Reaching out together, Ella and Kher were engulfed in light. The overly decorated room faded from their sight, then when the brilliance waned, the cold darkened stones of long unkempt castle walls filled their vision. An identical orb to the one in the elven chamber sat in front of them. They were in upper garden area of the Forsaken city.
From the corner of her eye Ella could swear she saw spirits that still haunted the courtyard. Yet when she turned, they were gone. She did not like this place. Kher took her hand, looking at her reassuringly and indicating they should continue on. She stood close to Kherighan as they walked into the ruined halls of the castle. Voices of the past seemed to cling to the castle walls. A great betrayal had occurred here. This is where Arthas had run his own father through with the cursed blade of Frostmourne. King Teranus' tomb now lay in a chamber behind the throne room. The fact that the last king of Lordaeron's final resting place displayed so openly and reverently before the entrance to the Forsaken's lair could only be explain by how much he'd been respected by his people, even now in the decrepit versions of their former selves.
Several corridors led to lifts that lowered to the Undercity. Kherighan led her to the eastern most lift. Dual abominations guarded it diligently. Ella thought to herself that just the smell coming from the horrible mutations made of parts of several dead bodies would be enough to discourage intruders. Gases visibly permeated the air about the monstrosities. Their dead eyes blankly stared at the two as they passed. Ella instinctively moved her hand to her nose. They entered the lift, which abruptly cascaded straight down to the sewers below.
When the lift stopped, they exited and continued on into the circular layout of the Forsaken's home. Kherighan's armor reflected the luminescent green liquid that ran through the sewers of the Undercity. He was dressed in full battle gear, Sceratus perched on his back, wrapped in leather and bound in ebony rope. He looked quite fearsome despite the fact that abominations were about twice his size. Ella was also in full plate gear, crimson and gold of the blood knights. At the moment she wished she had a helm that covered her face. The smell on the air of decayed flesh overwhelmed her. It was all she could do not to vomit. Kherighan seemed unaffected by it. Then again, he had fought side by side with such creatures for many years. Still, it angered her slightly that he wasn't suffering at all. She wished he'd hurry.
Almost as if he'd heard Ella'dora's wish, Kherighan quickened his pace, descending lower into the city, then heading toward the south eastern edge where Sylvannas's chambers lay. Forsaken guards grinned at them eerily as they passed. It seemed to Ella that today was look at the blood elves day. She'd be happy not to see many guards again in the near future. The shadowy halls of Lady Windrunner's throne room were obtrusive and uninviting. In the center, floor raised several feet above that of the entrance, stood the Banshee Queen. She wore the garb of the ranger she once was, eyes blazing red and skin ashen in color. Sylvannas emitted the same echo in her voice as was in Kherighan's as she greeted them. "Welcome, Sin'dorei. Now tell me, why do you trouble me with your presence?"
Kherighan ascended towards the Dark Lady, removing his axe from his back. Guards watch him intently, though they had no doubts that if he attempted an assassination of the banshee she would be the cause of his doom even without their help. Locking eyes with Kher, Sylvannas saw no intent of harm. Part of her was disappointed, as she had no taste for this unlife. She existed for a single purpose. Vengeance. She did feel a special kinship with the death knights. Their story was so much like her own, once under the thrall of the Lich King, now free yet reviled by the world of the living. Ella'dora caught a glimpse of this fondness coming from the banshee's gaze, and watched the encounter closely, amused that this powerful Horde leader took an interest in her beloved. Sylvannas cast a short glance at Ella, smilingly knowingly, then looked back at Kher.
"You were a closer party than I with our former master." Kher almost spat the last word of the sentence. "The weapons we death knights wield should be very familiar to you. It holds power in it with the runes etched in the sides. My hate and my desire to destroy fuel this blade. Lately, since my freedom, it seems my control of that power has diminished while its fury continues to burn bright. Sceratus", the blade crackled at hearing its name, "has become more like Frostmourne than the average rune weapon. I can not part with it, for it is part of me. Do you know of any way I might have to control my weapon again? Otherwise, I fear it will be my destruction." And that of everything I hold dear, he thought to himself.
Once again, Lady Sylvannas cast her ruby eyes on Ella'dora. It made Ella uncomfortable to see a being so close to her own visage turned so twisted. More so that in these glances she felt she was being judged. "Were you not my former kin, I would hear not of your story. And were you and I not so alike, I would not help you." Sylvannas placed a hand on Kher's cheek. Ella was sure now that the banshee was doing this to get a reaction from her. Kher was so intent on Sylvannas's answer that he did not noticed the gesture. Ella smiled to herself as the banshee's beguiling technique were so utterly ignored by Kher's single mindedness. "Your answer lies in Light's Hope, which I sense you were intending to head to anyway. You'll know what to do once you get there." The witch smiled slyly drawing her face close to Kherighan's. "I'll have you remember that you owe me. I may collect on this favor at another time."
Kherighan raised and eyebrow and bowed his head slightly, wrapping his weapon in its leathers and strapping it to his back once more. Sylvannas smiled regally as she watched the two of them leave. Ella couldn't help but look back at the witch, offering an amused and victorious look. The Dark Lady apparently did not even see, already discussing another matter with one of her advisors.
A short while later they emerged from the Undercity and exited the main gates of Lordaeron's crumbling walls. Ella breathed deeply. The air was not as sweet as that of the Sunstrider Isle, but at least the condensed and stagnant air of those sewers was now gone. Almost gone, anyway. Some of the odor still clung to her armor. This would have to be rectified at a later date.
Kherighan seemed lost in thought over what he'd heard. Lady Windrunner had offered little in the way of advise. It was more of a hint that a favor.
She closed her eyes and said in an indignant voice, "So, I suppose we should begin our trek through the Plaguelands to Light's Hope. That is, unless you'd like to go back and spend more time with your Dark Lady." She opened one eyes and smirked at Kherighan.
Woken from his meditation, Kherighan turned to Ella. "Yes. I mean, not about Lady Windrunner. Heading to Light's Hope. We should start moving."
As they began walking further from the city, Kher placed an arm behind Ella's back.
"You smell of the sewers. You shan't be holding me till we've bathed." She brushed his arm away jokingly and laughed. They followed the road from Lordaeron to where it merged with a road that ran east and west. They turned together to the east and made began their trek through the Plaguelands.
Through the Dead
Stepping past the shoddy barricades of the Bulwark, Kherighan felt as if he saw scales shifting over his field of vision. He looked about for Ella, but she was nowhere to be seen. He sensed this was some illusion, or perhaps a nightmare. From the dying trees that were scattered on either side of the road mist slithered towards where he stood. The mist split and rose in front of him, forming into humanoid shapes before his eyes. The mist solidified into fur-lined steel armor, hands covered by gauntlets, images of skulls and demons decorating their garb to inspire hopelessness. Lastly, fearsome helms that obscured their faces in shadow.
"Welcome, brother."
They spoke as one, all voices reverberating with the unholy powers of the death knights. Four armed brothers surrounded him. Still, Kherighan was unable to trust anything he saw. He surely felt the ground beneath him, smelled the scent of disease on the air. He reached out and nudged the closest of the knights. He was definitely solid.
"Where is Ella'dora?" Kher's voice was grim as he spoke, reinforced by a look that was equally firm.
"Your companion stands nearby, wondering the same thing about you." The one who spoke wore the basic armor of a fully initiated death knight captain. "She knows nothing of what is going on."
The four began to circle Kherighan. He felt he knew these knights, but his instincts told him they definitely could not be here, for all of them were quite dead.
The leader laughed, "Yes, your first incursion as a death knight. You were part of our group. We struck the Scarlet Crusade together."
Images flashed through Kherighan's mind of a beach on the eastern shores of the Plaguelands, Sceratus, caked in the blood of his enemies; the knights about him hacking through the screaming fanatics as they threw themselves at the brigade. Both he and his blade were lost in the haze of battle. With each life he cut down, the less fatigued he felt. His battle lust consumed him so fully, that when there were no more Crusaders to fell, he quickly turned on his brothers. After it was done, he alone made his way back to their base, no regret or remorse for the broken bodies of the other death knights that now lay with the corpses of their prey.
Eyes now narrowed and studying the same death knights that now surrounded him, Kherighan muttered, "So, what now? Have you come to take my life as I took yours?"
The leader shook his head slowly. "For you, that would be release. No, your life isn't what we're after. However, your suffering has lessened since meeting your young paladin companion." A cruel, knotted grin appeared beneath the death's helm. "Now, if that life were cut down as ours, before it could be honed and shaped into a power to face the Lich King, that would be fitting. You, we will only incapacitate, so you can watch as we tear her apart."
Kherighan reached for Sceratus, with one hand undoing the rope which bound it. The four lowered their heads, preparing for battle. Each carried a different weapon. The leader wielded a worn two-handed sword... one which Kher recognized from a former life. The one he'd held on the day he was turned from the Light.
The death knights all rushed him at once, hitting him from all sides. Kherighan gasped for breath as the leader hit him with the blunt side of the blade across the midsection. From the left a heavy gauntlet that covered an orc's forceful hand connected with his cheek, drawing blood. The other two grasped him by the arms, trying to pry his axe from him. The leader drew back, readying a blow the would certainly cause Kher to lose consciousness when it connected.
An image of the battlefield where a wave of Scourge had enveloped his long dead companion suddenly filled his mind. But it was no longer Nortiana in the vision of his nightmares. Ella's face now looked at him in horror as she was dragged into the soulless mob...
Crying out in anguish, Kherighan pulled sharply from the death knight which held his right arm, bringing the handle of his axe up sharply to it chin, causing a sickening crack as it broke the jawbone in two on impact. A gargled cry escaped it (from the lips it appeared to be a female orc, but by the register of the voice it was hard to tell). Pushing off the the other who still held his left arm, Kher brought a heavy boot to the chest of the captain, knocking him back. The one who's jaw had been broken fell backwards. As its backside connected with the ground and the blue eyes grew dim, it faded into mist. The others looked shocked. Taking advantage of this brief opportunity, Kher drew Sceratus back as if he were about to throw a spear, then thrust it forward with all his might, the top point of the blade wedging itself between the glowing eyes of the large orc who'd left the mark on his cheek. Blood spurted out violently as Kher pulled the evil blade back again with incredible speed. The behemoth brought its hands to its face and like his comrade faded slowly back to the mist, from his head down till nothing remained.
The death knight who'd held his left arm let go, falling back out of Kherighan's range and pulling two axes from behind its back. Eyes stinging with tears of rage flickered back and forth between the remaining assailants. The captain pulled himself up from the ground where he'd fallen, hunkering low to the ground, sword firmly grasped between his hands at the long braided hilt. The dual wielder was certainly a blood elf; the captain was a human. The blood elf leaped into the air, spinning with axes outstretch like the blades of a fan. Kher blocked the first axe, which connected with the flat side of Sceratus. He immediately attempted to duck below the second strike, but was not quick enough and a gash appeared on his forehead. Had the swing been cleaner the battle would be over. Blood rushed into his right eye. As the blood elf assailant's blow had struck him, the captain began rushing forward. Kher's left side was exposed from fending off the first attack. Bringing up the sword with all its power, the captain's swipe clashed into the armored chest of Kherighan, vibrating with a loud clang, sparks flying off as the metals collided. Kher felt the blow through his body.
The inertia of the blood elf death knight's leap took her over Kherighan. It spun gracefully upon landing, twisting towards Kher again to be ready for another pass. While powerful, the captain's hit had missed it's mark, the gap between the leggings and the chest plate. Sceratus had been raised to fend off the blood elf. When the captain's blow had landed, Kher was already beginning a swing downwards. Sceratus seemed to split into identical versions of itself, one still held in its master's hands, the other moving of its own accord. Almost as if dancing, the twin blades swung downwards together, connecting with the leader's head, the first knocking away the helmet to reveal a human face, skull exposed on one side from the results of his previous encounter with Kherighan. The actual Sceratus sliced fully through its head just above the jawline, resulting in a wail which changed to a sort of watery last exhale. Like the others, it too faded from existence. The sword he had used, however, remained, falling to the ground without any hand to hold it up.
Kherighan was not the death knight he'd been in the past. His drive no longer increased with each kill. The four had injured him and he was sure the blow from the captain had broken some ribs. The final assailant watched silently as its leader faded from the stage. Kher was on one knee, blood dripping profusely from the open wound on his head.
A familiar, female voice emanated from the final opponent. "Will you cast aside the power your weapon gives you so easily? The power that this day could have protected what you love so fully?" She attached the weapons to the clasps on her back with amazing ease, walking over to the sword that still lay flat on the ground. "When you were a paladin, this sword did little to save your friends and allies."
The female death knight picked up the sword and walked towards Kherighan. Forcing himself painfully to stand to meet his enemy, he readied Sceratus for another exchange.
"Hmph. This battle is long over, Kherighan. You've defeated my wraiths, the echos from your past. But if you actually remembered correctly, only three others went with you that day."
Trying to remember if this was the truth or if this woman were only toying with him, he focused on his memory. The captain... two orcs... surely there was another... or was the other only himself?
The female death knight laughed, "You are a magnificent warrior. I should keep you for my own, but I feel you'd do better in the wild than on my leash." Removing the skull-like helm that had rested so easily on her head, Kher saw it was Sylvannas who stood before him. A few banshees emerged from the woods, her personal guards. She looked over the sword that Kher had wielded in his previous life. "There is some of your former self still left in this blade as well. I'm sure you can find some use for it." With amazing ease, the Dark Lady tossed the sword near Kherighan with one hand. It landed tip down, embedding itself in the plagued earth. "You will find a way to control your weapon at Light's Hope, but you'll find the more control you have of something, the less power it may possess. Remember that. And remember that you still owe me." She turned and began to stroll away, "I'll leave you to your woman so that you can heal up. Till we meet again, death knight. Suffer well."
The scales that had changed the world about him fell away as Sylvannas' illusion broke. Suddenly Ella appeared before him. I look of grave concern and shock appeared on her face. Kher offered a small comforting smile before collapsing to the ground, relief at her safety overwhelming him. As his grip on the conscious level of his mind slipped away, he noted that his sword still remained in the ground. He wondered how she had come by it...
Waking and Wavering
A young elven boy sits on the grass in an open field. It is mid-summer, and the sun glistens off the boy's golden hair. He beams, eyes closed has he feels the warmth across his face. Rushing towards the boy, a elven girl with rich flowing amber hair grabs his arm when she reaches him, grinning. They run together, laughing as they head down a hoof beaten dirt road. They pass several humans, most of whom regard the children with cheerful amusement. Flat lands turned into rolling hills with large pine trees pointing to the pastel blue sky. Not too far from where they stood was the Quel'Lithien lodge, an elf populated area on these mostly human lands. It lay just on the border of the first magical gate that protected the Quel'thalasian homeland. They stopped, breathing hard from the run, still smiling at each other. Even in her youth, Nortiana was very lovely and the boy was quite taken with her.
Nortiana leaned close and kissed the elven lad's cheek softly. His face became flushed with embarrassment, which made the girl giggle.
"Oh Kherighan, you are quite silly. You should wake up, you can not stay here."
Kherighan looked at her, puzzled. "What's wrong with staying here?"
"You're needed elsewhere. I am beyond your help, my sweet friend. There's someone else who needs you." Nortiana looked weary suddenly, her eyes welling with tears. Yet she still smiled. Taking a moment longer, she closed her eyes and pointed to the east, "Now go, my Kher..."
"...ighan? Are you awake finally? Wake up, please." Ella'dora leaned over him, worry written in the lines disturbing her gentle brow. Reddish-blond strands escaped the order of the rest of the hair which was pulled back. The strands flowed before her tired face. Kher opened an eye, the icy luminescence breaking through the raising of his eyelid. The world skewed slightly, his vision blurred by days of sleep. He could tell they were in close quarters, the ceiling having the same texture as burlap. A lamp's flame caused low light to shiver along what was surely a tent. They had not brought a tent with them, he remembered. Rain tapped heavily against the flimsey roof. He focused on Ella's face and reached up, brushing the hairs that had fallen before her eyes.
Kherighan offered a comforting smile. "You look a bit tired, Ella." His voice sounded hoarse to his ears. His eyes moved about their enclosed surroundings. The tent itself was probably about seven by ten feet at the base, the top at its highest point was about five feet. His armor was piled in a corner along with Ella'dora's. He noted he was bare chested except for his bandages. A pair of tan cloth pants he usually wore under his armor were currently his only apparel.
"Where are we?" he inquired.
Ella's lips parted as if to speak, then her eyes flowed with tears as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. She wore naught but a crimson slip which hung loosely from her shoulders. Kherighan felt slight pain on the left side of his rib cage. He recalled the death knight captain had landed a blow there. The ribs no longer felt broken, though he was bandaged. His forehead was bandaged too. He imagined he would retain a scar from Sylvannas's blade. Kher rested his left hand on Ella's head as he tried to comfort her.
"I'm alright. Its okay," he cooed, trying to soothe her.
Sitting up, Ella wiped the moisture from under her eyes. She hiccuped, obviously still upset but regaining some composure. The rough tap of rain against fabric resounded muffled above them. "You've been unconscious for about a day and a half." Ella's bottom lip moved forward in a determined pout. "I found this abandoned Scarlet Crusader tent in the woods north of the road. It was crumpled in a heap near many long dead corpses. Looks like someone had tried to burn it, but was put out before it did too much damage." She sniffled, still trying to retain control as she continued," I carried the tent here and dragged you inside. I tried my best to heal your wounds by the Light, but I'm still unpracticed as a healer. I'm sure I took care of the worst damage, but it took me a full day to heal you."
Kherighan touched a finger to Ella's chin, bringing her gaze to his. "You did incredibly well. I can feel the ribs are solid. My body can mostly heal itself since I became a death knight." Unfortunately the beings that attacked him were not living, or even undead or else their blood would have been drawn into his blade, sustaining him. They were wraiths, specters brought forth from his own mind, given life through a powerful will...
The Dark Lady at once came to the forefront of Kherighan's thoughts. The lesson she had given him was one that the Forsaken leader wanted him to take seriously. He looked at Ella. He knew not if she had seen what had happened or if she was totally unaware of the battle. All he knew was she was not visible to him during the foray. He thought it best not to mention Sylvannas till he knew for sure. He was sure they'd most likely need her help in the future and did not want Ella to do anything foolish. The banshee was terribly powerful.
Kherighan placed his palms flat on the ground and push himself into a sitting position. He winced slightly, though unless someone was watching him intently it would not have been noticed. Ella... was watching him intently.
"You shouldn't. Lie back down," Ella ordered, voice suddenly concerned.
Kher raised an eyebrow and smirked, "You're right. I shouldn't lie back down."
Ella'dora huffed, not in a joking mood. "You know what I meant."
Leaning in close, Kherighan brushed his lips against Ella's, fingertips grazing the back of her neck. Ella shivered at the touch. Her delicate hands reached up to his tousled bluish-black hair, her pixie-like fingers running through the short, spiky mane. Kherighan drew her in, deepening the intensity of their kiss. He loved the feel of her lips against his, teasingly moving his tongue with hers. Ella'dora moved her hand from his head to his his chest, pressing gently back to have him lay down. He moved a thumb across her cheeks, wiping any remaining tears away.
Once Kherigan was lying down again, Ella drew slowly away from his kiss and lay beside him. She brought her forehead to his, fingers tracing the edge of where his bandages met the bare skin of his chest.
"I was scared you'd that you'd never wake." Relief began to settle on Ella and her pout gave way to a gentle smile.
Turning on his side towards Ella, Kher marveled at how beautiful she was to him. He placed a hand lovingly on her thigh. "You are everything to me."
The two blood elves looked into each others' eyes in awe of one another. They brought their lips together again, the heat of their bodies penetrating the other. Kher pulled Ella on top of him, the sheer red slip she wore all that was keeping their skin from touching. He no longer felt any pain, just the longing to be with her fully in this moment. Their bodies ground again each other in their passion as their kisses deepened. As the lamp ran out of oil they became silhouettes on the moonlit backdrop of the tent. She pulled at his pants to release him so they could be joined, impatience evident in the hurried tugging. They both exhaled together as she achieved her goal and brought him into her. The rain drowned out the sounds they made in their ecstasy, which they continued into the night till they could handle no more.
Shadows of trees broke up the sun as it hit the top of the tent. The heat rose slightly, making it uncomfortable enough that Kher began to wake. Ella still lay on top of him, sleeping peacefully. It was obvious she had not slept much while he'd been unconscious. He moved his fingers through the hair on the back of her head. He looked over at his gear resting in the corner. Sceratus was propped up in the corner, crossed with his old sword. It seemed an odd twist of fate that his former and current lives were symbolically intersected as they were. He leaned forward and kissed the top of Ella's head and closed his eyes. He would not sleep, just rest and be here with her till she woke.
