Chapter 3, Warding

He came to slowly, consciousness simmering painfully. There was some resistance, a feeling that there was something waiting for him when he woke up, something he did not want to face. Still he plunged upwards, driven past the anxiety by worry – the stronger knowledge that it was important, that he had to wake up.

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked at the green glow hovering above him. It faded, revealing a blue, clawed hand which carefully moved away towards a large splotch of pale colors. Dor'ash moved his eyes only, blinking again until the bigger blur became Malo.

The draenei shaman watched him with concern, a hesitant scowl twisting the skin of his large forehead. Dor'ash's confusion shattered, and the memory did not stay away for a moment longer.

"How long was I gone?" Dor'ash croaked, clearing his throat and grimacing.

The scream he had heard, had silenced. Sarah was gone.

The anger failed to flare up again. No use.

"Just a few minutes," Malo said, his voice low.

Dor'ash pushed himself up, finding that they had placed him on the blanket again. Thoughtful.

The other draenei sat around the fire, but only Coran glanced at Dor'ash – then quickly turned to look into the dancing flames, shoulders hunched. Nobody spoke, but Malo silently offered Dor'ash the orc's own water sack. He just waved it away, and Malo didn't insist.

"What was that darkness?" the draenei shaman wondered after a moment.

"The Lich King, I believe," Dor'ash said in a dull voice.

He stared towards the exit of the cave, even though the crack of white stung his eyes. There was so much dark stone around the opening that the snow outside turned a sharp, painful shade. The fire cast a warm glow across a large part of the cave, yet he only saw the dancing shadows along the jagged walls. Taking in a deep breath, he shook his head.

"All Forsaken once broke free of his mind control," he muttered, "but as I understand it, they start losing control to him again when they age or die slowly."

Even though he kept watching the exit, part of him noticed how the silence grew heavy. Malo slowly shook his head, rubbing his cheek. The sound of Coran's hoofs scratching the hard ground was unnaturally loud in that atmosphere. The young vindicator looked to Valenia, who met his eyes briefly and then looked away. For a moment Coran's gaze wandered towards Subonai, but stopped.

"I'm–" Coran finally said, turning towards Dor'ash. "I'm sorry, I truly am."

Dor'ash met his gaze for a second, but didn't make a sound or movement to reply. The vindicator could be as sorry as he wanted, he was still the one who separated the two friends. Right then, Dor'ash couldn't find a splinter of forgiving in his soul.

He couldn't stand being there, but he could not leave either. However…

Narrowing his eyes at the exit, Dor'ash took in a deep breath and forced his mind to focus. In the next moment his sight leapt outside again, rushing through the landscape. Again the spirits called around him, in sadness rather than fear this time.

It would be torture to see what she was now, he knew that, but he could not just sit there. Right now, he still knew roughly where she was – if he lost her, there would be no hope at all.

There had to be something he could do for her, some way to save her. She had freed herself from that mind control before, he'd said so himself just a minute ago. But was that something that could be done again?

He tried to push that thought away, but even as he did so, part of him knew that she might be lost forever. Then what, if he found her?

She wouldn't want to be another mindless slave. Then–

His painful line of thoughts snapped when he spotted the patch of darkness. But it seemed so much smaller than before…

Unsure what to think, he swept in that direction, and then saw a group of thin shadows trudging through the white. Forsaken, some in robes and some in armor – and Sarah in their midst, half dragged, half carried along between two of them. She staggered, her movements slow and weak, but lacking the single-minded march of a Scourge zombie.

A wild hope flared up in him as he stared at the scene. No Forsaken would have let her live if she was a slave to the Lich King. Yet, the darkness was still thick around her. For a second he wondered if they could see it.

Then, his mind clicked from being numbed by surprise, and he realized that they might be searching for him and Coran. Mentally swearing he drew backwards, towards the pull of his body, and concluded that they were heading in the same direction. Not straight, no, but there was no guarantee they could not find the cave. He couldn't see any tracks in the snow, but couldn't be sure that there were none. The storm should have eradicated a lot of them, but perhaps not all.

He turned and sped back, catching sight of something large and brown in all the white, but the world was flashing past him and his spirit slammed back into his body. A half-strangled sound left his mouth and he tried to stand. Malo was there in an instant, trying to settle him down again.

"Some Forsaken found her, but they're coming this way," Dor'ash snarled at the confused shaman. Malo blinked, staring at him. "You have to flee, now!"

The others got to their hooves, speaking quickly in Draenei. Malo waved a hand in a sharp motion, glaring at the white crack in the cliff. A hesitant lull fell as his hand sunk and his face slackened. Seconds snailed by, but then he straightened up with a shudder.

"He's right, there are undead coming this way," Malo hissed, standing up with a loud clatter. "We must leave here!"

Setting her jaw, Valenia hurried towards the elekks.

"But can we make it in the storm?" Coran asked, eyes narrowing at the crack in the wall.

"Believe me, we will have a better chance–" Malo started.

Dor'ash opened his mouth, knowing he could give them some advice to give them a bit of a chance. However, he never got so far as to share that.

The rock, partly and badly blocking the exit, exploded. Heat seared through the air momentarily, and hot pieces of shattered stone clattered against everything. Dor'ash threw up his good hand to shield his eyes, snarling. The elekks let out shrieking trumpeting sounds. Luckily they didn't stampede in their panic, but stumbled against each other in their corner.

Valenia cried out in Draenei, a single word. Even though he didn't understand, Dor'ash could brave a guess. Hooves clopped hard against the ground as Coran and Subonai rushed towards the entrance to the cave, drawing their weapons. Malo took a few steps forwards, then cautiously stopped and reached for a pouch on his belt. He paused, casting a tense glance at Dor'ash.

"I'll try–" the orc started in a growl, but the familiar sound of a demon's roar cut him off. Cursing, he hurried towards the exit. Nobody tried to stop him, both Coran and Subonai far too busy squinting at what was just a few steps outside.

The snow whirled around the huge, armored form of a felguard. It seemed perfectly at ease with the onslaught of wind and cold as it raised its huge axe, grinning down and flashing rows of uneven, pointy teeth. The vindicators bristled, yet they were not looking at the demon's face but a little bit to the left.

A Forsaken woman in a dark robe, like a stain of oil against the white in the air, hung over the felguard's shoulder. Dor'ash winced when he saw her, not only at her presence but also because she wore a pair of crossed leather straps across her face, much like Sarah. These sagged, however, and glowing yellow eyes shone beneath. Her smirk was very much reminiscent of the demon's expression.

"Oh no, no, no, let's not get violent," the warlock cooed in her hoarse voice, speaking Common. "You might frighten my little baby." She tapped a finger against the demon's shoulder plate, causing a hard ticking sound for each rap.

"What do you want, wretch?" Subonai demanded.

For what it was worth, the felguard was far too big to easily make it through the cave opening, but that wouldn't stop the warlock's spells. Still, it was only one of her. Considering the circumstances, she and her pet were not a great danger on their own – but the demon would have leverage on anybody trying to burst out of the cave. Its axe was already raised and just waiting for one of the vindicators to try.

Tilting her elbows against the huge shoulder pad beneath her, the warlock daintily pressed her raw-bone fingertips against each other and smiled.

"Might you be the bad, bad draenei who abducted our little sister Sarah's orc friend?" she asked.

Both Coran and Subonai tensed, but didn't reply. After a moment, the warlock tilted her head.

"I'll take that as a yes." Her mouth pursed and stretched in a cold smile. "I do hope he's in one piece, boys. You wouldn't want to live with the knowledge that you denied a dying woman her final wish, would you?"

She grinned at the word "live." Not very subtle. However, Dor'ash hardly even noticed, as the words coming after that grin tore into his soul.

He stepped forwards, to get within sight from outside. Subonai threw a glare at him, but didn't try to stop him as he moved up beside the two vindicators.

"I'm here," Dor'ash said in Common, lightly touching the fingers of his good hand to his bandaged arm. "I'm Dor'ash."

Half of him, the half not preoccupied with fearing for Sarah's sake, silently prayed for some possibility to save the draenei. If the group of Forsaken reached the cave, Malo and the others would be lucky if they were simply killed. After all that had taken place here, Dor'ash couldn't allow that.

"Ah, that's a relief," the warlock said and ducked her head, muttering under her breath. In a flare of felfire, a floating eyeball appeared above her head and zoomed off into the snow storm, away from the cliffs. Dor'ash tensely watched it disappear amongst the whirling, white flakes. It had to be a sign for the others to come.

Already he wanted to protest, but knew very well that it would also put him in danger to try to defend a group of Alliance soldiers. He would have to look for some opportunity.

She waved her hand, and the felguard reached up. It gripped her around the middle and then shoved her at the ground, but she didn't seem rattled as she straightened her slouching back.

"How is Sarah?" Dor'ash asked, his jaw clenching.

The pleased look faded from the woman's lips and she shook her head.

"Almost gone," she said, looking up at him. "She wants to see you."

He had known that she was fading. That didn't make the words hurt any less, and he pinched his eyes shut. She had needed him, desperately, and he hadn't been there.

"Isn't there any way to stop it?" he asked, looking back at the warlock.

In a stark contrast to what he expected, the sneer did not return to her expression. It dawned on him, then, although he had always known it in theory. Yet, not until this moment did he see simple, undeniable proof of just how greatly the Forsaken hated the Lich King.

"We've all done it once," the woman said in a voice that seemed oddly soft for a Forsaken, doubly so for a warlock. "But, it might be her time."

He wanted to shake his head, but, who was he to say? As a shaman, and a warrior of the Horde, he was well aware of what death was. It never even touched his mind how ironic this all was – Sarah had already died years ago. Still, she was so full of life that it had been ages since he saw an undead when he looked at her. He saw only Sarah.

Armor sharply clanged as Coran shifted, and it rustled Dor'ash out of his daze. There were far more lives at stake here. Looking at the warlock and her hungrily smirking demon pet, though, he wondered if it was at all possible to talk them into backing off. The draenei could try to send the demon off balance with magic and make a run for it, but they wouldn't be able to run outside more than one at a time. The opening in the cliff wasn't wide enough.

His own experiences with Forsaken warlocks did not make him feel any more confident about being able to reason with this woman. Yet, he had to do something or Malo and the others would be slaughtered.

Deep down he reflected how strange it was for an orc to be so desperate to save a few draenei. Or, perhaps, it was a tiny act of penance for his people. Still, he knew well that chances were great that the warlock would brand him a traitor if he wasn't careful. Up here, the only witnesses would be the other Forsaken – and Sarah was not in a state where she could help him against her own people, now.

He tried not to think about the fact that even if the draenei managed to flee, they would leave tracks in the snow. The Forsaken had been able to find them, when the traces Coran and his elekk had left behind must have been almost gone thanks to the storm.

"Listen," he started, still speaking Common so that the draenei wouldn't have to suspect foul play, "Sarah and I were almost killed by yetis. This one here," he nodded sideways at Coran, "probably saved our lives."

The warlock's lips quirked in an amused smile.

"Ah yes, she did try to mumble something of the sort," she said. One of her hands swept to her hip, where a wicked-looking wand set with a darkly glowing crystal was fastened. A sickly red flare rose within the large gemstone at her touch. "I understand, you are honor bound to not kill them. Don't worry though." Her smile widened. "We're not."

Coran and Subonai both bristled, and from inside came the sound of Malo and Valenia exchanging sharp whispers.

A sense of déjà vu stole over Dor'ash, and he recalled another hoarse voice declaring the Forsaken had no debt of gratitude towards one of the Alliance. That time, it was a night elf druid who was in danger. He had to wonder if it was his fate to protect those who should be his enemies.

"I'm no lover of the Alliance," Dor'ash said, clenching his teeth, "but there's a question of decency. He could have killed Sarah as well."

For a moment she watched him, unmoving. Not knowing what else to do, Dor'ash grasped for straws by pointedly rolling his eyes to look towards the draenei, then back towards her. If she took it as him trying to unsuccessfully convey some kind of silent message, she didn't show it.

"Very sweet of him," she said with a disinterested shrug. "The fact of the matter is, though, that Sarah is almost Scourge. That is all we care about for the moment." Her face never turned away from Dor'ash, eyes glowing steadily under her sagging mask.

He looked back, scowling. There was probably nothing he could say to convince her, and– Sarah, spirits, Sarah. He could hardly concentrate.

The only chance for the draenei would be to try to get past her – if they tried distracting her and the demon with magic it might…

Thin grey shadows grew out of the wall of twirling white, with a few steps fully emerging behind the felguard's back. Subonai growled, and Coran nervously shifted. A cold hand grasped Dor'ash's heart. More and more Forsaken kept emerging from the snowstorm, worn, rusty armors strapped to their bodies and snow piled up in the crevasses between equipment and body – sometimes in crevasses in the bodies.

They stopped within sight, lined up and gazing towards the draenei and the orc that could be seen just a bit in the opening in the cliff. Yet none of them grinned, all silent and grim.

The warlock turned and scurried over to her brethren, starting a conversation utterly torn away in the wind. After a few moments she hurried back, absently clapping her hands. With an annoyed growl, the felguard disappeared in a blast of felfire. The snow where it had stood melted from the heat, creating a patch of sizzling grey.

"Shane says we don't have time for this nonsense," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "You draenei, you can get out of the way and hope we'll think about being nice, or we'll storm in. You might have a good defensive point but there are a lot more of us."

In the tense silence Dor'ash could feel Coran give him an uncertain look and Subonai glare at him. He looked over his shoulder, only to have the feeling confirmed.

"They won't listen to me," he muttered. "I can't tell you what to do."

Letting out a growl, Subonai turned around and spoke to Malo and Valenia. A quick discussion followed.

"I'm counting to ten!" the warlock called.

A few more words, harsh in the draenei mouths, flew through the air. Then Subonai looked around, lips drawn back from his sharp teeth.

"Very well, we– yield," he snarled and started to back off.

Looking rather dazed, Coran followed him, sheathing his sword with numb hands. Dor'ash stepped back as well, looking between the draenei as all four of them retreated to the back of the cave with stiff steps. Malo met his gaze, tension apparent on the other shaman's face. However, he made an upwards motion with a clawed hand, as if motioning towards the spirits that had told him that he could trust Dor'ash.

"I'll try," the orc murmured, adding hardly no voice to the movement of his dry lips. He truly had no idea if he could live up to that remain of brittle trust.

He looked around at the sound of clattering armor and bone, seeing the Forsaken make their way towards the entrance. With a heavy heart he moved towards the middle of the cave, watching as the undead entered. They continued inside, spreading out in an uneven half-circle.

"What are–"

Dor'ash's question faltered on his lips as the Forsaken moved aside to let Sarah pass. She staggered blindly, leaning on a decaying swordsman. Although her arm lay slung around his neck, she didn't seem to draw any support from it herself – his hand holding her wrist looked like the only thing keeping her up. His other arm curled around Sarah's waist to further steady her.

It looked gentle, the way he walked slowly to accommodate to her insecure steps. Snow clung to her, smeared on her ruined robe and sticking in her hair, making her look even more miserable.

They had removed her bags, leaving only the severely stained, pale robe around her small form. Dor'ash took note of those details only vaguely. What he stared at, and wasn't sure that the others saw, were the shadows flitting around Sarah's thin neck, slithering down her arms like living, ethereal chains. The spirits moaned, and the shades spun around, lashing out – then settled back when the elements growled, but the dark aura never went away. It seemed to flow out of the back of her head in a slow, but steady stream.

Had he been in a proper state of mind, Dor'ash might have cast a glance at Malo to silently question if he also saw the darkness. But he hardly even remembered that the four draenei were even there, now.

When the swordsman hunched down, Sarah just slumped onto her knees. Still oddly gentle, he ducked to get her arm away from his neck, and then laid her hand to rest in her lap. With a murmur of Gutterspeak he straightened and turned to Dor'ash.

Metal scraped sharply as the Forsaken man drew his sword. Dor'ash's breath stuck in his throat, but the undead didn't move to use the weapon.

"The Lich King has taken a hold of her," the swordsman grimly said, aiming his hand, not his sword, at Sarah. He spoke the Orcish words in a monotone voice. "You have travelled with her for a long time. You understand, don't you?"

Dor'ash grit his teeth, understanding perfectly well what the man meant. But…

"You haven't finished her off yet," he said.

Several of the Forsaken shook their heads. The swordsman spoke again.

"We don't kill our own happily, and she isn't completely gone. But she's very weak."

Sarah made a strange sight, sitting there with her hands folded in her lap with the other Forsaken standing in a crescent behind her, pale, stained robe stark against the dirty ground. The calm curve of her lips revealed nothing.

"She insisted on finding you," the swordsman said, stating a fact – not hope.

They were prepared to kill her. She was prepared. Oblivion was a far more pleasant master to serve. How odd, really. The Forsaken knew no compassion, except for this – mercy killing their kin rather than letting them fade back into slavery.

"Are you more powerful than the Lich King, Dor'ash?" Sarah asked, sounding mildly curious through her strained voice. Not much lung capacity to work with. Her head rolled, causing a creaking sound in her stiff, frozen neck. The twitchy motion gave him a chilling hint before the words sealed the truth. "I called for you in the snow but you didn't answer. There's something out there now, something that wants me." She paused, as if thoughtful. "Wants them."

She motioned at the Forsaken behind her, and they actually tensed. Under Dor'ash's scowl she chuckled hoarsely, more of a giggle. Her grip of sanity, and herself, was slipping fast.

"Wants you. Wants them, too." The draenei growled uneasily when her face briefly turned towards them. "Wants everyone and everything. We're pawns, less than pawns, far less, but he still wants all of us even though we're useless, just a mass of hands and claws and and and he's so loud…"

Her hands crept up her arms.

Behind her, the swordsman silently shifted. Not raising his sword, but preparing for when he would do so. Sarah shook her head.

"He says he's proud of all this power I've found but it means nothing, does it? Nothing, he doesn't care, he's mocking, I still know that, I know it–! No!" She looked around suddenly, finger whipping out towards the swordsman. "Don't you dare! He's the only one who can kill me!" The arm swept in the other direction, until she pointed straight at Dor'ash.

The hand holding the sword sunk back to the man's side as he nodded.

"As you wish, little sister," he said, in an impossibly soft voice.

"Hell no!" Dor'ash snarled, his foot slamming into the hard ground.

He stepped forwards and Sarah shrunk back, staring up at him as he glowered at her.

"Are you out of your mind?" he growled. "What question is that, if I'm stronger than the Lich King? Of course I'm not! You have to be!"

People broke out of mind control for loyalty, for love, for friendship. He could have called to her and spoken of her Dark Lady, of her undead lover Jonathan, or himself and of Grema and Karg. Yet, she was a Forsaken, and Forsaken only ever admitted to feeling rage and hatred.

But no, none of those things had saved her when she first woke up, with no memory to drag her out of the mental clutches of the Lich King. If she had no memory, she had no reason to love or hate. That wasn't what made her break free in the first place.

"Are you going to let him have all that power you've gained?" Dor'ash snapped. "Do you want to tumble down from this mountain and roam Andorhal until you fall apart?"

No reply. She remained impassive, as if she didn't even hear him.

"Maybe you do, if you want me to fight your battles for you." He spat on the ground, managing somehow although his mouth felt dry as a desert. He had to focus on the anger, had to share it with her, even if he only really wanted to fall down on his knees and pull her close. That wouldn't save her. He couldn't shield her from the Lich King no matter how strong his arms were. "You're pathetic."

At the last word, she moved. Her arms twitched, and she straightened up from her half recoil. Without a sound, grey green lips moved to form silent words.

"Well?" Dor'ash snapped, amazed that his voice held up.

And Sarah spoke.

"You– blasted– asshole!"

Not for hate, not for love, or friendship. For herself only, because it was all she had had back then.

Her hands shot away from her arms, clawing instead at the remains of her ears before pressing down hard.

"Shut up!" she snarled, clutching her head. "I'm not your– not your– not yours!" Her voice rose to a shriek at the last word, so sharp that it actually hurt Dor'ash's ears.

He thought he heard an echoing growl, and Sarah collapsed on the ground. The black chains around her rushed backwards, flowing into the back of her head. He would have been so much more relieved if they had shattered, but it was too much to hope for. And then, perhaps she would have died, anyway. That damning power was what kept her animated.

The end of the last chain disappeared, and her hands twitched.

Nobody else moved as she pushed herself to her knees, then further to her feet. The wind hollowly wailed from the entrance, and Sarah's bones scraped the ground as she worked her way up. Slowly she straightened, lifting her unmoving face towards Dor'ash. He hardly dared to breathe. The chains were gone, but…

Her hand rose up, perching against the leather covering his chest. All the while, she gazed up at him. A faint smile tugged at her green, cold lips.

"You know," she said, "I'd claw your eyes out for being such an ass, if it wasn't for the fact that I truly love you right now."

"Keep a distance, if you please," Dor'ash replied, turning only slightly and gazing at her sideways. He grinned wide despite the words, however, and saw no reason to cease doing so.

"My commends," the swordsman spoke up, and he actually did smile a bit. Glancing around, Dor'ash found with some surprise that the same expression were on the other Forsakens' faces too, with no trace of the usual shades of cold, cruelty and lack of empathy. He wondered if he could even begin to understand what it meant to them, since this touched them so deeply. And then again, he doubted that what they felt measured up to his own feelings right then.

One of the undead men, his lightly grey robe hinting at him being a priest, stepped forwards and raised his hands towards Sarah. She turned halfway towards him and he laid his fingertips against her chest, a warm light enveloping his gloves. A sigh escaped her as with a low, popping and gurgling sound, her wounded lungs and broken ribs mended. The whole time she kept one hand against Dor'ash's leather chest plate.

"That's all I can do right now," the priest finally said and stepped back. "You better take it easy for a while."

As if the words sprung a horrid thought to mind, the relief faded from the swordsman's face. All traces of it were gone as he spoke again.

"But, does he leave it at that?" he asked, and the air itself seemed to stiffen as the Forsaken all turned grim.

Sarah froze, her fingertips drawing four lines in Dor'ash's chest armor as her hand curled into a fist. He stilled as well, watching her with a frown taking over his features. That far, he had not thought – but yes, the Lich King supposedly held the minds of all his servants, didn't he?

With a twitchy motion Sarah turned away from Dor'ash, and nodded.

"Something's coming." She scratched her chest, gazing towards the gaping hole leading into the snow storm. "He touched me. He knows we're here. What a pain."

Though her tone sounded composed, Dor'ash had never seen her scratch herself before. Violently, too. She ceased when he brushed a finger against her shoulder, but what remained of her eyebrows hung low.

"Scourge?" he asked, grimly.

"I don't know what. I don't know how many." She shook her head, under the intense gaze of everyone in the cave, although the draenei didn't understand. "But he said something would come and find me."

"Fantastic," the swordsman said, chuckling throatily. "And I thought we'd only get to kill a few ogres and one or another Syndicate member up here."

Before he saw the other Forsaken crack up in grins, Dor'ash had thought that the leader was being sarcastic when he said the first word. But now the man turned towards the cave entrance, fingering his sword thoughtfully.

"I wonder, almost anything can crawl up from the Plaguelands but it would have to be something nearby," he said, mostly to himself. "Something that is quick but could fend off the inhabitants here. Something that could carry whatever else it kills along the way. He probably scrounged up even more when he felt us find her. Now it's not just one measly Forsaken he could catch."

"And what are you planning to do about it?" Dor'ash asked. Part of him wanted to put a protective hand on Sarah's shoulder. The rest of him knew that she would not appreciate that at all.

"This is a good place. We could hold it." The swordsman's grin was about as crazy as Sarah's rambling from before. "You don't expect us to run away, do you? From the Scourge?"

"We don't know what it is," Dor'ash pointed out – but he had no plans on trying to escape, either. He knew an unforgiving snow storm when he saw one, and they had no idea from where the enemies were approaching. This cave would at least be, as the Forsaken said, defendable.

"What does it matter?" the swordsman said. "If there is Scourge hunting here, we will deal with it."

Might Sarah be able to open a portal to flee through, if need be? Dor'ash studied her, and wondered if she herself knew whether she had the strength. However, she kept her gaze aimed at the entrance, face set in determination.

Another thought struck, of something – some people – that the shaman had to admit he had momentarily forgotten all about.

"And what about the draenei?" he said, straightening up.

"Hmm?" The swordsman turned around and looked at the hoofed men and woman, who bristled under his and the others' eyes.

The Forsaken exchanged glances. Finally, the leader shook his head.

"Too much of a bother to try killing them now," he said. "We can't waste our energy. Let's save them for later."

"That's not what I–!" Dor'ash started.

"Tell them to behave, will you? I don't think they'll listen to us."

With that, the Forsaken headed towards the exit to make their plans of defense. Only Sarah lingered where she was. Sighing, Dor'ash turned to the draenei and walked towards them. Without a word Sarah followed him, staying close for each step he took. When he stopped, she turned towards where her people had gone, but didn't move away.

"What's going on?" Coran demanded.

"She broke free of the Lich King's attempts to snare her, but something is coming," Dor'ash said, motioning at Sarah and the outside world respectively. "We don't know what. Whatever it is, it wants to kill us all and they want to kill it so much that they don't care about you right now."

Sarah turned around while he spoke, looking between him and them. Glancing down, he saw her raise an eyebrow at him, but it was brief and she didn't ask anything. The eyebrow sunk back, and she glanced towards the other Forsaken, at the exit. Then she looked away again, staring at the floor.

"Something like what?" Subonai demanded, eyes thin as needles as he glared between Dor'ash and the undead blocking the only escape route.

"Scourge," Dor'ash said, not even feeling like adding a sour "what else." Before, the vindicator's unyielding aggressive stance had annoyed him, but now it was definitely justified.

"They don't care about killing us now, but what of later?" Valenia asked. Her arms were folded tightly to her chest, dainty claws buried in the folds of her elbows.

They all spoke in low voices, realizing it might get even more problematic if the Forsaken heard them.

"I know you would not want to trust me," Dor'ash said, looking between them as he scowled with determination, "but I will not stand by and let them kill you, I swear that."

His gaze wandered back to Malo at the end. Slowly, the other shaman nodded. His friends looked to him, hesitance apparent in their eyes.

"I would trust you," Malo said, and then Coran nodded the slightest bit, if stiffly. Looking past Dor'ash, the draenei shaman frowned. "But you are worried about them, I can tell."

"I don't expect them to value honor, no." Dor'ash could not deny that, and he would not lie to give them false hope. He turned to the hunching woman at his side. "Sarah, can you do anything here?"

She stiffened, looking up at him with clenched teeth.

"I can't turn all of them to sheep," she said in Common, like him, and tried to force a smile. The failed joke only made her look even more uneasy.

"No, you used that trick on a warlock already," he agreed. It was a just as weak joke, to recall the last time she had fought other Forsaken – her own kin, even. Clearing his throat, he looked at her more seriously. "But could you reason with them?"

"I don't know, I– they–"

She fell silent, started to speak again and cut herself off once more, looking away. Finally she clenched her fists and looked up, facing his concerned scowl. When she spoke again, she switched languages.

"I've brought you nothing but trouble lately, haven't I?" she said, shaking her head.

Dor'ash watched her for a moment, eyebrows raised.

"How so?" He fell into Orcish, like her, forgetting that the draenei wouldn't understand what was said.

"I got captured in Azshara, then I went nuts in Ratchet, and now this too." She said so in a dull tone, where she should have been impatient.

Something was odd. Dor'ash narrowed his eyes, watching her stiff posture. Still, when he spoke he tried to sound at ease.

"Nonsense. I'm the one leading you on."

"Well, yes. Fool."

She turned her head again, glancing at the exit briefly before looking the other way with a twitch of her neck.

"Besides," Dor'ash said, voice calm though his gaze never left her for a second, seeking any clue in her expression, "I'm the one who got captured this time, and you showed up with allies."

For a moment a weak sneer flashed over her lips, but it faded almost immediately.

"Mm," she mumbled, sounding distracted.

"Sarah."

"Mh?" She looked up at him.

Watching her seriously, Dor'ash lowered his voice even more.

"I mean it, I don't want the draenei to get killed by them," he said, nodding towards the Forsaken.

"You're such a sap." She wet her lips, that human woman she had once been showing through again. Those little things popped up every now and again when she wasn't thinking, but not as often now as they had when she just got her first wave of memories back. "Look, I'd love to reason with them for the sake of your new pets, but if I start acting weird they'll think I'm being taken over again."

As she spoke, she turned away and looked at the rotting people they spoke about.

"How do you know I'm fine, anyway?" she said, sounding distracted again.

No… not distracted, not exactly. Tense, and something else. Dor'ash studied her, jaw set tight.

"I saw a dark aura around you before," he said, "it's gone now."

"It's never gone, not really." Her voice sunk. "He never shuts up. And now he's angry at me."

She stared towards the cave opening, where the other Forsaken stood like skeletal statues, waiting. One hand rose to her lips, and broken teeth bit down on bone.

"Are you feeling well, Sarah?" Dor'ash asked.

No reaction.

"Sarah," he said, his voice deepening with his scowl.

"I'm… fine." Yet she didn't sound it, and a step backwards brought her so close her back brushed against Dor'ash's armor. Without thinking he put a hand on her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the gap of whirling snow before looking down at her small form.

He had never seen her like this.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he murmured.

Implausible as it was – she jumped as if stung, proving he was correct. Silently, he squeezed her shoulder tighter. Her face turned quickly between him and the Forsaken by the exit, then back again. Just checking to make sure that they were out of earshot and not looking. The draenei she ignored, safe in the knowledge that they probably didn't understand the language.

"I had no idea," she muttered in a tight whisper, shaking her head as she turned around to face him. "He came from inside of me and held me down and I couldn't–"

She cut herself off, twisting her head in another direction. Still she didn't move away, huddling close to him in a way she never, ever had before. Weeks ago in Drakamash Village, when she got her memory back and slumped against his chest after finally calming down, she'd still been herself. She had still been strong.

"Dor'ash," she hissed, "Dor'ash, you have to kill me when it happens again."

He shifted then, stepping between her and the exit before crouching down so that their eyes were at the same level.

"You have to focus," he sternly said. "We'll have our part to play too in this battle. Don't slip on me now."

"Dor'ash!" she snapped, hands slapping against his shoulders. He winced and she immediately released the pressure on the wounded arm, but didn't move otherwise. Lowering her voice, she shook her head again. "Promise you won't ever let him have me."

"Sarah–" he started.

"It's worse than anything, anything…" She stared at him, through the leather straps across her empty eye sockets. "What, do you have to hear it? You're right, I'm scared."

His expression didn't change, but his good arm reached around her thin shoulders.

"Don't be," he said.

From where they stood, the other Forsaken couldn't see what was going on because Dor'ash's massive bulk blocked the view. He was still startled when Sarah stepped closer again, burying her cold face in the curve of his neck like a frightened child. The fact that he still crouched was the only reason that she could reach.

"Allow me a moment," she muttered, breathing cool air against his skin as she spoke. "You'll never have to see the likes again."

It wasn't something he had been prepared for, but he just hummed and let her hide against him for a brief time. He didn't speak, only shifted his grip of her to suit her forwards movement, holding her close.

The snow in her hair and robe melted against the warmth coming from his body, dripping down over his skin and armor.

Finally she straightened and glanced up at his face. Before he could say anything, however, Sarah turned her head to the side in a sharp motion.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped in Common, at the draenei.

"Huh…" Coran said, scratching his black hair.

He was the only one who said anything, vague as it were. Valenia just looked away and Subonai shook his head without a word. Silently, Malo met Dor'ash's gaze and tilted his head to the side curiously.

"Dor'ash," Sarah said.

"What is it?" he asked, looking back to her. He frowned, but it was without any trace of anger.

She looked calmer again, for what it was worth.

"I'm serious, Dor'ash," she said, repeating his name again as if she believed that it alone would beseech him to listen to her. "Promise me I won't be his slave again."

For a moment, he just watched her, working his jaw.

"If there is absolutely no other way," he finally said, gritting out the words. He felt compelled to spit after he had spoken, but controlled himself. There had to be another way, no matter what. There always had to be one.

She looked far too relieved when he studied her.

"Accepting you might die and expecting it are two different things," he sternly said.

Sarah shook her head, glancing in the direction of the other Forsaken.

"It's different for us," she said. "If I was higher up in the Society they'd never even have gone to find you. I wouldn't have let them, we can't have the Lich King–"

She made a strange noise, fingers bending like claws and then freezing. Slowly, she looked up at Dor'ash's face. His lips moved even slower than her head.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I'm… still not thinking straight…"

For a moment he just looked at her. Then, he let out a heavy sigh and let go of her to rub his forehead.

"Did you chose now to slip that little piece of information because I'm too distraught to get angry at you?" he asked.

"No, I– hm." Sarah's shoulders sagged. Though she would fry anyone saying so, she was really good at looking miserable when she was in that kind of mood. Most Forsaken were, when it got down to it. And you'd better not tell a single one of them that. "After we survive," she said, glancing up again, "I'll tell you about it, alright? For now, let's just say I didn't get a choice. Patrick… he liked to arrange things."

That final sentence instantly ripped off a huge chunk of Dor'ash's tension. Sarah fidgeted as she looked up at him, but raised her eyebrows when he snorted and half smiled.

"That explanation is all I need," he said.

"Really?" she asked, suspicion lacing her voice.

He considered it for a second.

"For now, at least," he added.

"Figures…" She tried to smirk, but didn't do very well. "Look, I'm just an errand girl for the Apothecaries."

Dor'ash opened his mouth to once again assure her that he had heard enough about it for the time being, but the sound of footsteps made him straighten and turn around. Quickly, Sarah stepped back from him as if trying to hide evidence of that moment of comfort.

It was the undead swordsman who approached, though a few of the other Forsaken walked a few steps behind him. Watching them, Dor'ash raised his eyebrows in a question, but remained silent. Now what?

He was quite surprised.

"Might the draenei be made useful?" the swordsman asked, and jabbed a bony thumb at the cave opening. "The snowfall is so thick that we won't be able to see the damn things before they're practically upon us. But the vindicators should be able to sense them, correct?"

Dor'ash blinked at this sudden opening, and thought very fast.

"I like that idea," he said, thoughtfully. "And would you grant them free passage after the battle, if they helped us?"

"Pff! What?" the Forsaken said with a cruel chuckle, peering up at Dor'ash in disbelief.

The orc returned the look of cruel amusement with a sneer.

"No, I'm quite serious," he said. "Do you think they would feel helpful if they thought that you would kill them?"

"Ahh, I see." The swordsman's amusement remained, but it took on a calculating tone as he nodded.

"Not only that," Dor'ash said, hoping desperately that this wasn't pushing his luck. "What I tried to tell you earlier was that since they captured me, I've played docile and helpful. I've often found that information garnered from trust is often better than that forced out. You understand, I'm sure."

"Hmm…"

"Believe me, Shane," Sarah said, stepping up beside Dor'ash. She half turned her head towards the draenei momentarily, then looked at the swordsman again and sneered while patting the orc's arm. "The shorter vindicator had his sword at my throat but this darling dear here talked him out of it. If he says he's got them trusting him, I believe he could pull it off."

Though Shane had looked doubtful, he raised the remains of his eyebrows and looked between the two of them curiously. Several of the other Forsaken in the background looked similarly fascinated.

"How in Sylvanas' name did you get that goodie-doer to think twice?" Shane asked.

"I appealed to his bleeding, blue heart," Dor'ash said with half a shrug. He managed to grin.

For a moment Shane was silent, but then he gave a loud shrug.

"Tell them whatever," he said, and grinned. "We want the vindicators to help, and we'll decide afterwards if they seemed useful."

It was not a promise, but it was more than Dor'ash could have hoped for. He contained the relief he felt and simply nodded, letting his lips twitch.

"Very well, I'll try to talk them into fighting for their own sake," he said.

"Speaking of fighting…" Sarah said and stepped forwards, sounding a lot more like herself again as she turned towards the female warlock and waggled her fingers, palm up. "My staff, Roxanne. Chopchop."

"Ah, of course."

The warlock moved forwards, reaching back and pulling a familiar looking staff from her back. As she raised it, the crystals set at the tip of it flared up with a red glow – despite the fact that they were colored pale violet.

"Sorry about that," Roxanne said with a clattering shrug. "Happens every time. I don't know why."

She handed over the weapon to Sarah, and the crystals took on a glow more suitable for their coloring. With that, the Forsaken turned around and scuffled back towards the entrance of the cave. Only Sarah remained, following Dor'ash as he walked over to the draenei, who all stared at him tensely.

He wished that they could have communicated in a language that the Forsaken couldn't understand, but his grasp of Draenei was limited to five words. There was no choice but to simply speak low and quickly, hoping there was no spying rogue sneaking close, unseen. But, on the other hand he trusted the spirits to warn him if that happened.

"Alright, you have to listen and trust me if you want to get away from here alive, understand?" Dor'ash said. He explained about the trouble with the snow storm, watching their pale, uncertain looks, and then, finally, "I told them that I'm spying on you. I don't know if that'll be enough for them to let me lead you away afterwards, but it might be our only chance."

"What could we possibly know that would be that interesting?" Valenia whispered in a sharp hiss, on the verge of hysteria. Malo put a hand on her shoulder and she closed her glowing eyes, taking in a deep breath and sagging.

Dor'ash started to speak, but once again in a very short while, Sarah surprised him.

"Look at it from the bright side," she said in a tone that wasn't only sarcastic and teasing. "My friends there want to throw themselves at whatever is coming a lot more than the rest of us do."

For that, she earned several odd, uncertain looks obviously wondering if she was trying to be encouraging. Being encouraging by implying that they might be able to crush the remains of the Forsaken defense if they saved their own strength.

Was she truly prepared to betray her own people again, especially those that had saved her from the Lich King's grasp? Looking at her, Dor'ash couldn't feel sure, and he neither could he decide if he really wanted her to be that kind of person. Even for the sake of protecting him and the draenei.

Then she looked up at him and grinned.

"You know I'm only looking out for you, mama," she sweetly said, making Coran and the others blink in disbelief.

Despite all, that was enough to make Dor'ash swat at her head, and she ducked away with a soft chortle.

"That's the worst thing I've ever heard," he said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, love."

He made a disgusted sound, but then shook his head and sobered. Turning to look at the draenei, he waited to let them digest their situation and their options. They recovered quite quickly from the disturbing nicknames, and exchanged glances. Finally Coran wet his lips and gazed towards the surrounded exit of the cave.

"I sense only them," he muttered and motioned at the Forsaken. "I suppose I would have to… stand closer, too." That prospect obviously didn't please him at all.

Subonai growled low in his throat, tail whipping back and forth in agitation, but he remained silent.

"Could you two not use your far sight to search for the approaching enemy?" Coran asked suddenly, looking between Dor'ash and Malo.

The two shamans exchanged glances and then nodded. Dor'ash turned towards the exit and narrowed his eyes. He would pay for all this use of this power later, he knew, with a pounding headache – he was not really good at it. Yet, it had been necessary before and it was very useful now.

His vision leaped into the white once again. Looking about he saw Malo's glowing spirit close behind, leaving their prison so ridiculously easily. The outline of the draenei shaman met Dor'ash's gaze and shook his head sadly, understanding the bitter irony. But neither of them could focus on that now, turning instead to the whirling world around them.

The wind was pure tendrils, filled with crisp little snowflakes. It toyed with them, casting them about playfully. But the winds that came from a certain direction did not play. They fled, tearing past the snowflakes and tossing them aside in their rush, howling.

Evil unclean disgusting unnatural

Steeling himself Dor'ash leaped against the winds, following them backwards to see what exactly they hated so much. Sooner than he would have wanted, he found the source of the spirits' disgust. Beside him Malo hung frozen, an expression of terrified revulsion on his vague features – trying to figure out what he saw tearing through the snow on long, sticklike legs, fat, bloated bodies sweeping over the pure white ground. Eerily humanlike voices chattered and rasped to each other as the undead creatures moved forwards with one simple goal in sight.

Dor'ash guessed that the draenei never had seen these things before, and he himself wished that he never had laid eyes on them.

He really, really hated Nerubians.