Tired, ill-humoured and anything but sober, Ylena struggled to keep up with Garona who strode forcefully towards the docks.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

The taller, and considerably more powerfully built woman, shrugged her broad, green shoulders. At the first glance, she was clearly recognisable as an orc, but that was only one half of her, the other was human- or even dranei, if the latest rumours were true. She lacked their typical tail though, and if she had hooves for feet was impossible to tell because she always wore heavy leather boots despite the heat, and Ylena didn't dare ask.

"I was told to search the taverns and this was the first one on my way." Garona replied blankly.

"I see." Ylena felt her irritation grow. She didn't know what embarassed her more, that Nathanos seemed to know exactly where she spent her nights, or that he had Garona pick her up her like a nanny a little kid from the nursery.

She wasn't sure how to feel about the half-orcen assassin, who had the reputation of having divided loyalties.

After all, Garona had long worked with the Alliance and even been a trusted friend to Llane Wrynn, the boy king's grandfather.

Until she had killed him, that is.

She claimed that the Horde was her true home, and that she had only pretended to serve the Alliance in order to save her life, but wasn't that what every turncoat would say?

She seemed to be devoted enough to the Horde's cause and never shirked from a dangerous mission, which was something that definitely earned her Ylena's respect, but even though she saw the halfblood practically on a daily basis they had so far hardly exchanged but a few words.

Garona kept mostly to herself and it was no secret that neither faction liked her much-to put it mildly.

But if Nathanos trusted her, who was Ylena to question his judgement? Perhaps he knew only too well how it felt to belong neither here nor there-

When they reached the Banshee's Wail, Ylena found her commander impatiently pacing the ship's deck, a map in his big, black-gloved hands.

"At last." he snarled instead of a greeting.

Those warm welcome words put an abrupt end to any hopes that he had only called for her at such a late hour because he was lonely and looking for her company.

"I had not expected your call before tomorrow." Ylena retorted, maybe a little more snappish than usual. "It was my night off and I was just about to go to bed-"

Clearly not interested in her excuses, Nathanos waved his hand to stop her. "I'm sorry for having to remind you of it, but we are at war," he replied in a bitingly sarcastic tone. "It won't pause for your free time, just as little as the Alliance will wait to attack until our fleet is ready."

He twisted his pale lips into a grim smile. "I may, however, have found a way to weaken theirs."

"I'm all ears." Ylena stifled a yawn. "Could I get a coffee?"

The smile vanished from his face. "You could have bought one on the way here. This is a warship, not a pleasure boat."

But a few minutes after he had led her to his cabin to inform her about the details of his plan, they were interrupted by Garona with a steaming cup of the desired beverage, and even a piece of fish cake which the Zandalari called Sailor's Pie.

"Thank you." Ylena smiled gratefully, and no little surprised.

"You're welcome."the half-orcen hummed. "I always have a little snack with me when I'm working late. Some of us have to eat and drink." she added with a sideglance at Nathanos on her way out.

The Dark Ranger uttered a small snort and Ylena brought the cup to her mouth to hide her smile. The coffee was strong; Garona had added neither milk nor sugar to soften the bitter flavour, but it served its purpose to keep her awake and sober her out.

"So we're sailing to Drustvar," she repeated hesitantly and looked up at her commander again. "To do what exactly?"

She had been there only once, to help establish a foothold, and she had not liked it.

Other than Tiragarde Sound where one had to grapple mainly with pirates, the bleak area in the south west of Kul Tiras was the breeding place of a strange witch cult and its crazy disciples.

It was more than a little eerie by daylight and would be even more so at night.

"To retrieve the body of a fallen Kul Tiran war hero and raise him as Forsaken, in order to gain important information about their fleet." Nathanos replied, visibly proud of his own idea.

Ylena almost choked on her coffee.

"Dig out corpses? I'm quite sure that wasn't part of my job description."

Her commander's smile was as cold as a winter's morning in Icecrown. "Maybe you should have read the fine print. You are here to do whatever is necessary to bring victory for the Horde."

"In a cemetery."

"That's where they usually bury their dead, yes." Nathanos raised one of his dark, bushy brows. "Scared?"

"What, of the dead?" Ylena snorted. "Hardly." Then her eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

"I'm not offended." Nathanos snapped at her, sounding very much offended. "Don't be absurd. But I would suggest you keep your bow ready at all times. Not all inhabitants of this cemetery rest in peace. Ghosts."

His voice was dripping disgust. " They are a mockery of the dead. Spirits, holding on although they have no hope to ever truly live again."

And how does this make them so different from the Forsaken, Ylena wondered by herself. But of course this was a question better not asked aloud unless you were weary of life.

Instead, she emptied her cup and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "A nightly stroll through a cemetery then," she smiled. "Sounds romantic."

Nathanos merely snorted. When it came to sarcastic remarks, he clearly preferred to be on the donor's side. He bent over his desk and kept studying his map, and they didn't talk anymore for the rest of the journey.

Barrowknoll Cemetery was as inhospitable a place as expected, and the same applied for the whole area around it.

What might once have been a beautiful forest landscape now seemed to be trapped in an unnatural state of permanent decay, all the leaves on the trees were withered and brown and even usually shy and peaceful animals like deer were afflicted with a dark spell and ready to attack unaware travellers on their way through the dark woods.

A cold, damp mist hung heavily in the air and Ylena wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as she surveyed the area for possible enemies.

So far, everything seemed to be quiet, but it was an ominous silence she wouldn't like one bit and she told her commander as much.

"A final resting place is supposed to be quiet," Nathanos shrugged her concerns off. "I actually quite like it here. Reminds me of home."

But then a flock of crows flew up croaking loudly and he winced and raised his arm to protect his head.

"I hate birds," he spat disdainfully when they had left in the direction of the graveyard. "Filthy, screeching things. You better get a move on, the night won't last forever. Search the graves. We're looking for one Marshal M. Valentine. I'll stay here and observe the area for- suspicious activities."

Sighing, Ylena whistled for her pet and made her way towards the cemetery.

Brighteye got on her paws and followed her, but not without a last, wistful glance at Nathanos' dark saber. So far the proud big cat had successfully ignored all her attempts to make friends- and if that wasn't telling. Like master, like mount.

If there were indeed ghosts out here, Ylena did not see them, but as she strode the graveyard up and down she couldn't escape the feeling of being watched.

It was like a cold breath that raised her neck hair and after a while, she believed to hear voices as well.

We are the lucky ones. they whispered. Not you. Not yet.

Embrace your fate. All will drown.

It is nothing, Ylena tried to calm herself. I'm only tired. She pressed her lips into a tight line as she tried to block out the voices and concentrate on her task.

She passed the grave plaque of one Sir Aaron Cresterly (Defender of Drustvar,Valiant Hero. Loving Brother-In-Arms. True friend. ), followed by a "Beloved Lady Victoria Snyder" ( May her memory be eternal. ) and a certain Master J. Capaldi (Beloved Brother. Master Shipwright. Favorite by the Sea.)

Most of the people buried here had been sailors as the big, stony anchor in front the chapel confirmed.

But none of the graves was Valentine's.

I know the things you've done, the voices in her head seemed to mock her. Has she betrayed you yet? She will...

At last, there was nothing left to do for Ylena but return to her commander and admit her failure.

To her surprise, Nathanos wasn't disappointed, instead he appeared to be rather excited.

"'I've been keeping my sights on the cemetery." he said. "There is one ghost that walks with a purpose, unlike the others."

"The others?" Ylena repeated confused. "I didn't see any."

Nathanos frowned. "No? But they were walking all around you." He waved his hand in an impatient gesture. "Well, nevermind. This one- I believe he is the crypt keeper, the keeper of the keys. If we want to get to Valentine's body, we will need to go through the ghost first."

No sooner said than done.

Ylena and Nathanos returned to the graveyard, killed the crypt keeper, retrieved his keys and opened the crypt. Child's play, really.

However, and to the Dark Ranger's great disappointment, it turned out to be empty, merely a homage as the corpse itself was lost at sea.

But Nathanos wasn't one to give up so easily. He already had another plan at hand, one that required the help of a tidesage.

Those sea priests were a religious Kul Tiran group based in Stormsong Valley, in the Shrine of the Storm, he told Ylena once they had returned to their ship.

The people in Kul Tiras looked to the seas for guidance the same way others looked to the Light, he explained, but the tidesages had a much deeper connection with the water and should be able to tell them exactly were a body lost at sea could be found.

Provided, of course, they could be "persuaded" to aid the Horde's cause.

He told her many things more, or so Ylena assumed, but she was no longer able to listen for exhaustion and tiredness finally took their toll.

The soft rocking of the ship in the waves and the oddly soothing sound of Nathanos' sonorous voice lulled her into a sleep long overdue, and she didn't even wake up when the Banshee's Wail again dropped anchor at the home shores of Zandalar.