He drug himself through the hut feeling its warmth as the small fire huddled in its corner battled against the harsh Alteric winter. He used Brightfall, his mace, as a crutch as he moved through the fire-lit room, he looked around feeling distaste for the horde decorations, Long spiraling spikes and spires mingled with dirt and blood were past his taste, he rather the blues and golds of an alliance tavern any day. But he knew taverns like that were many miles away and judging his blood loss he guessed he'd never see one again.
Years ago, in his youth and prime, he could have healed such wounds with the wave of a hand, but for the past few years the light had abandoned him, no that wasn't right... He knew he'd abandoned it. He drug himself to the corner of the room inching next to the fire, bodies lay in ruins all about the hut, civilians he could see from their lack of muscle and weaponry. One, a woman, lay in the corner adjacent to him, she was a blood elf, the hint of agelessness kissed her cheeks and elfishness her ears, he had always thought them a beautiful race, leftovers of what they once were when he first met them years ago, before the sunstriders corruption.
He lay Brightfall on across his lap and reached for a cup that lay on the hearth, he tasted the sweetness of Quelwine and coughed a little spitting up the red of blood and the purple of the draft. He checked his wounds knowing they were fatal, it brought a heavy irony on him that they were not of horde bringing, his own soldiers in blood rage brought his wounds. He took another sip of the wine and hummed to the lulling pops of the fire as he readied himself to be taken. What happens to a fallen paladin when they die? He couldn't imagine he'd be brought up like the stories told. No, he'd lay with all of his medals and titles, leaking out in a forgotten and abandoned hut as the fire of conquest raged outside.
He closed his eyes feeling himself weaken , he instead thought of the Westfall of his youth before the bandits came, before he struck out in revenge, when he tilled by day and lay out by the stars at night , before the war, back when the light was a small promise pumping through his veins. He cursed himself for the slaughter he brought. It seemed that back in those days he had fought to forget, it was easier to unquestionably slaughter, They were horde after all, evil right?. No, he knew even then that every life he took pulled him farther away from the light.
A noise, like that of a whimper came distantly from the blood elf women, his combat instincts kicked in and he grabbed the shaft of Brightfall weakly. The woman's body slumped over as little eyes appeared from a small crawlspace behind it, A Bloodelf girl no bigger than a murloc peaked from the hidden chamber, she saw him and retracted back, two violet eyes stared at him unblinking. He let BrightFall fall from his grasp and watched as she eyed him, he then continued to hum.
"You like the music don't you." He said, a small smile coated his words. It felt like it had been years since he smiled. The little girl slowly crawled over her ruined mother into the open, wary of the human outsider who lay before her.
"I won't hurt you, even if I would I doubt I could like this." he joked to himself. She, he knew, couldn't understand him, some Bloodelfs spoke common, but she was too young to yet be taught. So instead he hummed.
For a while he hummed and then sang in a small voice to the girl, a song of the rumbling hills of westfall that she seemed to be fond of, slowly she inched closer to him, but stopped when she came near arms reach. She knew what he was, or even what he had been, fear fixed her in place.
"Come now." he said. "How long have you been hiding?" He could tell by the stench of the bodies around it must have been days. He took a piece of mana bread from his pack and held it out to her.
At first she didn't react, then hunger overpowered her fear and she took it greedily. When she was finished he offered more, then passed her his cup for her to wash it down with. He marveled at her hunger. The bread was almost tasteless from being conjured, but the taste didn't matter when starvation crept close. He took off his cloak and held it out to her as she shivered. It was heavy and warm, made from the finest mageweave and presented to him by the king himself when he was named a Battlemaster. Now it was best warmth he could offer her. She fell into the cloak and lay in exhaustion. How strong you must be to survive so long. He held her close wrapped against him, after a moment she finally settled and stopped shivering. She stared up at him through violet eyes, fear seemed to have left her. He used his free hand to rummage in his pack pulling out a jeweled box and handed it to her.
"I love music to." He said chuckling. She only stared back with wonder in her eyes. "This was a gift, doesn't look like it, but this little box is worth entire kingdoms." As he spoke the firelight danced off the box sending glimmering light all about the room .She took the box eyeing it with wonder and pulled up the latch. An ageless and sad melody played from its core.
Looking down at his wounds he could feel his remaining strength slowly drain from him. "I don't much expect to be needing music much long, and The Lady would be happy to see it go to one of the Highbourne." He hummed with it, feeling her heartbeat putter then slow as she yawned. He watch sleep overtake her, then he too was lulled by lament of the highborn.
He awoke to shrill winds crying through the hut, a hand lithe yet powerful pulled the hut drapes back. He pulled the girl behind him as three figures came into view. The fire had died casting the hut into shadow, but he didn't need much light to tell what they were. "Bloody hell." One spat in common tongue. "Look at the mess here."
"Looks like a right ole slaughter." Came another.
One of the figures walked over to a corpse kicking it.
"Dead elfs id reckon, serves em right." One of the men went to the Female slumped in the corner. "Right pretty this one is."
"Old on a moment, what is at in the corner?" They all turned to look at him, one walked over kneeling down and inspected the old Battlemaster.
"Well if I do say so myself, that look like Battlemaster Ameran. He flicked him in a wound causing him to grunt. "And alive to, Imagine that. I heard you betrayed your legion, diverted em from a camp of would be dead elves, I also heard you were slayed for it."
Ameran coughed up blood spitting it on the soldier's boot. "Aye, but it wasn't a camp, it was a village, no soldiers there, just women and children."
The soldier chuckled and nudged one of the others. "Doesn't matter what they are, you are a traitor and deserve what I was told you got. But by looking at the men strewn about out there you be even more of a traitor. Killing your own soldiers are we?" The man spoke in almost a playful tone, he knew he was going to kill himself a Legend today.
"Those men were not my soldier, my soldiers died alongside me when my diversion was found out, those men were rats in suits."
That caused even more of an uproar from the three men. "And what is that?" one asked. The soldier closest pulled up the flap of the cloak showing the girl asleep in his arms. "Harboring the enemy are we?"
Ameran swatted the hand away defensively. "Leave, go to Belinda, Or Vanndar, I call for parley."
The group again roared up in laughter. "A traitor like you gets no parley." As he spoke Ameran heard the screech of pulled metal. "I got what a traitor like you gets."
He pushed himself up by Brightfalls hilt using the wall as support. The girl, still cuddled in this cloak fell behind him, she awoke and started to whimper. He pulled up the mace, it was heavy and took almost his full strength just to hold it upright. Once it was weightless in his hands, once he could have swept these men down without even an afterthought, once he was a legend, champion of the light itself. Now after years of slaughter he was nothing. The man closest to him lunged forward sweeping his blade in a wide arch, Ameran caught it on Brightfalls hilt and sent the man sprawling with a shoulder to the chest. These men didn't fight like soldiers, he knew from experience what they were. "Bloody bandits" he spat out ducking a blow from another. He for a moment was alive, pure adrenaline pumped through his veins, what he lacked in strength from his wounds he would make up in skill.
"We soldiers now" one of them said chuckling as he stabbed at Ameran. "Got the papers to prove it."
On and on like this they fought, he felt his body burn and start to give out as the adrenaline ran thin, his swings easily battered away and his blocks lagged with each strike. The one in the middle who spoke the least lunged forward perhaps to end this farce and give him a quick death. Ameran flung bright fall knocking him off-guard and pulled a dagger from his side pocket stabbing the man in the groin. The others stepped back unsure of themselves.
"He gutted Phil"
"No more games now Ammy"
The bandits both attacked, pushing the weakened Battlemaster to the ground. He pulled the knife in an arc cutting ones leg and stabbing the other in the side. Finally a kick crushed his hand and another to the head jostled his vision.
The girl almost forgotten cried out and backed into the cubby hole clutching the jeweled music box. She watched as they kicked the man until he finally stopped fighting. One of the thugs slapped the other one on his arm turning him to see her. "Look at the little pretty over ere. They turned from the body and went to her flinging the box out on the ground. It opened and the tune again played.
To Ameran everything was black. He walked in a world of Darkness, he was tired, but his body no longer hurt, and to him that was good. He lay down in his world of darkness and closed his eyes. So this is death. He wondered to himself. He felt like he could lay like that forever, but then something changed, he remembered. "The girl" He opened one bloodied eye and the world of pain came back to him.
The girl ran around the tent as the two men playfully went after her. They seemed to have forgotten their companion who lay in the middle bleeding from his knife wound. Ameran tried to rise but he realized his legs no longer worked. He cried out but his voice was weak, only a small gasp escaped him. The little girl was caught in the corner, she huddled to herself and whimpered as the men closed in, one held a sword tight in his grip.
Suddenly as if it had always been there, a surge went through Ameram, something like pure life surged through his limbs and the pain suddenly receded. The light? He held out a hand for the girl as the thug lifted the sword. Sparks danced between his fingertips and his whole hand started to glow. Then in an instant he felt his whole life force leave him flying from his fingertips and the world again darkened.
The sword crashed down and stopped inches from her face. The man looked puzzlingly at the orb that glowed around her. "What th-" in an instant light belched from the girl enveloping the tent and disintegrating the men. The girl watched as the shield flickered and evaporated, then she stood and went to the paladin. The music box finally fell silent.
She knelt down caressing the man's face, where there were once bruises and cuts new skin regrew and the damage receded. The girl grew suddenly, her hair that was once golden became auburn and raced down to her shoulders. Her eyes burned red and started to glow, two horns grew like tree branches from her hairline.
A voice melodic and ageless came from the tent flap. "I must say my Lady, I had my doubts about him. What was that at the end, the trick with the shield?" The women knelt down picking up the body as if he was light as a feather. "An old paladin legend, giving one's life to shield another, only the few closest to the light have ever achieved such a feat." she said stepping out of the tent flap. The other figure followed behind her and wings like that of a dragons grew out from his shoulders. "You never doubted him did you Alexstraza?"
She turned to him a knowing smile played on her lips. Then in one instant she jumped soaring on Wings red as the sunset and boar the paladin way.