"Try all you might, you Horde bastards!" The Priest laughed from behind the spelled door, "Nothing it getting through this- grrk!" He stumbled backwards as an arm and dagger closed around him neck. Bala whispered in his ear,
"Never mind the door. I took the window… now take the spells off this door and you may live to see the dawn."
The Priest was still. Bala increased her pressure on the dagger, letting a small trickle of blood drip from his skin onto the brilliant royal blue of his robes. He gritted his teeth,
"How do I know you won't kill me anyway?"
"I give you my word."
After a long moment, the Priest waved his hand over the handle of the door and it burst open; Garrimar's Acolytes pouring through in a wave of rotting bodies. They circled the Night Elf Priest, staffs and wands at the ready.
Garrimar hobbled through the door, staff making loud 'clack's on the stone floor. He eyed the Night Elf up and down.
"Where is it?" He rasped.
"Where is what?"
"The Sethekk oracle cloak."
"I don't have it."
"I don't believe you." The Undead turned to look around the room then finally nodded at his Acolytes. "Kill him."
"No." Bala still had an arm around his neck, "I gave him my word he wouldn't be killed."
"And the fool I am, I believed you." The Priest muttered. Garrimar sighed,
"As noble as your intentions are, my dear, prisoners are not what we want right now."
"Then I'll just leave!" The Priest suddenly cast Fear. Terror shot into the hearts of everyone in the room, Acolytes ran left and right – one killing another in desperate terror with his wand. Darkness and mist crept into their minds – rendering them helpless to stop the Priest from escaping.
Bala closed her eyes and froze, dropping the dagger. A terrifying vision playing in her mind; the Priest recovering the dagger – and plunging it into a helpless Warrick. She felt a hand grab her arm and jumped, her heart galloping around her chest in terror. The hand pulled her closer and she sank to the ground, grasping the person tightly for dear life. She breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of Leatherworking Oil and Peacebloom drifted to her from the robe.
It was Warrick. He was alive.
The scent brought her to her senses and her eyes snapped open, finding herself wrapped around the Warlock, her head on his shoulder. Blinking his black curls from her eyes, she drew back; the motion making him open his eyes as well. They locked gazes for a moment then spoke in unison,
"The Priest."
Leaping to their feet, they caught the flash of a blue robe disappearing through a trapdoor in the ceiling. Bala bounded up the steps as Warrick sent a Shadow Bolt sizzling past her. It hit the stone of the rooftop, but missed the Priest. Garrimar hobbled up the steps and yelled at his Acolytes,
"You're Undead Warriors! You feel no fear you fools!"
They opened their eyes at his words, looked at each other and scrabbled for weapons. The one who had killed his comrade looked up at Garrimar, who ushered him along.
"Casualty of war, lad." He growled.
Bala was the first to reach the rooftop – so the first to be struck from behind. Her vision blackened and she was flung sideways where she rolled to a stop on the stone. Warrick was next to reach the trapdoor; seeing Bala hit from behind he ducked just in time to avoid being missed by the wooden staff the Priest was wielding.
He sent another Shadow Bolt towards him, but the Elf cast a shield; absorbing it harmlessly. Warrick swept the Staff of the Shadow Flame around his head and knocked the Elf's feet out from under him; his shield preventing the Warlock from doing any magic. From the ground the Priest started to glow gold, Warrick looked up and cursed.
"Damn!" He leapt from the trapdoor landing, just in time to avoid a casting of Holy Fire which struck an Acolyte and most of another. They screamed in agony, one falling backwards in a flurry of flames and the other blackened to a crisp.
Drawing himself to his feet, the Elf cast Shadow Word: Pain. Warrick doubled over, his bones thrumming and aching every time he moved. With a snarl he reached out and pulled on the Elf's soul viciously.
The Elf stepped back – shocked at the tug he felt inside him. Warrick smiled maniacally twisted his hand, clenching his fist as he felt the soul catch… then he pulled. The Night Elf screamed and fell to the rooftop, thrashing in agony. Warrick's eyes rolled back into his head, releasing a sigh at the green thread between them pulsed and throbbed.
Just one more soul… His mind sighed, and he agreed. Life coursed through his veins and drifted to his free palm, where he felt a Shard begin to form.
From the trapdoor he vaguely heard Garrimar shout something and the Acolytes leapt onto the roof – though not to attack the Priest. Something else was approaching… something very big, and very angry.
"Warrick!" Bala slapped him across the face, breaking his concentration. The line between the Priest and him severed and snapped violently. The Elf stopped thrashing and lay on the ground gasping and groaning. Purple lights exploded in the Warlock's vision and he rounded on Bala, temper flaring.
"Why-" He stopped short when he saw a huge shadow tower over them. Almost the size of the tower itself, a huge brown and amber dragon landed heavily on the rooftop; the stones cracking and sagging under its weight.
With a roar it lashed out and grabbed an Acolyte in its jaws, snapping him in two and swallowing him whole. Giant horns that erupted from either side of his jaw smashed into three more Acolytes who dared to fire at him as he swept his head towards them. They disappeared over the edge of the tower with muted cries then disappeared in the darkness.
The dragon caught sight of Warrick with the staff and snarled,
"You!" He roared into the night, taking a deep breath and sending a blazing river of fire through the air towards the Warlock.
Warrick planted the staff on the ground, parting the flames around him. They thundered past and into the night sky where they faded harmlessly.
"Return my staff," The dragon growled, "And I will grant you a quick and painless death!"
Garrimar summoned a Shadow Bolt and sent it thundering into the dragon's side. The dragon stumbled, making the tower shake and blinked, recognition sparking in his maddened yellowed eyes.
"The thief…" He roared again in pain as another Shadow Bolt crashed into his chest and took flight. Warrick let the bolt's light die in his hands and moved to Garrimar's side.
"Then you did steal it?"
"Details, lad." The Undead grinned.
"Sometimes I wonder whether you're a Warlock or a Rogue."
"Can't I be both?" The corpse laughed.
Lightning cracked and lit up the sky, revealing the dragon circling the tower like a vulture. A rumble of thunder followed it, bring the threat of rain.
"Nefarian!"
The dragon's head turned towards the Warlock when he heard his name.
"You want your stick?" Warrick spun the staff around him, "Come and get it!"
