Authors Note
A brief insight on this chapter...
Tavin glanced back, the heavy thrum of energy from the portal beginning to pull him in.
"Hurry!" he yelled out, over the screams and clashes of the battle.
Byron merely glanced back, a sorrowful smile on his face.
Chapter Seven
"What do you propose we do?" the warlock, Basaleph, asked.
The Lich King glanced over at the small human, his eyes questioning the way the warlock addressed him.
"Master" he quickly added, noting this.
The Lich King returned his attention to the crystallized heart in his hands, thrumming with a mystical energy.
The only last vestige of humanity within you...
"Slip information to the Crusade, tell them a ritual is to take place, The fool Tirion will seek to redeem Arthas." he mused. "So predictable."
"A trap?" Basaleph asked.
"Yes you fool!" The Lich King growled.
Basaleph sunk into a quick bow, "It will be done, my lord." and he hurriedly left, leaving him to his private thoughts.
The only last vestige of humanity... he mused again to himself.
He grimaced and clenched the heart tightly in his hands, and with a flash, removed himself from the cursed area.
"A heart you say?" Tirion asked, his full attention on Tavin.
Tavin nodded, wiping his face off with a piece of silk cloth, finally glad to have it rid of the thick smears of rancid blood.
"These are heavy words, Tavin, and if they were from anyone else but you, I'd judge them insane.."
Tirion rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his grey eyes distant for the moment as he pondered something unknown.
"It's not the first time I've heard that story about Arthas and his heart... always thought it was some made-up tale to impress the rank and file." he mused.
"So you think it's Arthas' real heart?" Tavin asked.
Tirion nodded, "Arthas cut it out himself before merging with Ner'zhul, he knew it was his last vestige of humanity, and he believed at that point that all humans were weak… so he cut it out, and threw it into the depths, seeking to never see it again."
He sighed and stood up from the stool he was sitting on in front of Tavin's small cot.
"But I will look into this more," Tirion said. "but for now, get some rest."
Tavin nodded, and with that Tirion left the tent, leaving only him and Aydeline.
He glanced over at Aydeline, She was lying down on her small cot, turned away from Tavin, the thick blankets Tirion had provided them with pulled up over her curled form.
Tavin stood up and silently padded over to Aydeline's bed, gingerly reaching out and touching her shoulder.
She instantly flinched, trying to pull away from Tavin's touch.
"Aydeline… ?" Tavin asked in a low whisper.
She kept silent.
Tavin sighed and decided not to push the matter any further, so he returned to his own cot, finally glad to have some rest.
Early morning light filtered into the tent, awakening Tavin from his restful sleep.
He yawned and sat up, rubbing his beard, feeling small stubble rub against his hands.
Tavin glanced over at Aydeline's cot, to find it empty, the blankets thrown about and her armor missing.
Early riser...Tavin thought.
He quickly decided he too should get ready for the day ahead and so he began washing, equipping and preparing, and not soon after, Tavin stepped out of his tent, washed and armored for the day ahead.
He glanced around, instantly spotting Tirion standing in his usual position, overlooking the cliffs, the Ashbringer stuck in the ground beside him.
Next to him, was Aydeline, and a figure Tavin didn't expect to see:
Byron.
Tavin grinned and hurried over to the three, excited once again to see his old friend.
Byron glanced up and smiled, "Glad you could join us." he said playfully.
"What brings you here?" Tavin asked.
Byron jerked a thumb towards Tirion, who was standing with his hands behind his back facing the two.
"We've been waiting on you Tavin," Tirion said, with a slight smile, "But now that your here, follow me." he beckoned the three with a crooked finger.
Tirion grabbed the Ashbringer, and lead them to a spacious tent on the edge of the Pinnacle grounds, likely Tirion's private tent.
He ushered them in and tied the flap behind them, motioning for the three to gather around the only decoration in the tent: A wooden table.
"Just this morning, my scouts informed me of a Cult of the Damned procession leaving from Icecrown Citadel to the Cathedral of Darkness, bearing an artifact." he began.
He glanced up at Tavin, "And now I learn that it might be Arthas's own heart... a thing containing the last bit of his remaining humanity." he said, referring to their conversation last night.
"You three realize what this could mean, correct?" Tirion asked.
Tavin was beginning to see the light of the plan, "We could redeem his humanity." he instantly said.
Tirion nodded, a sliver of hope crossing his face. "Aye, we could."
Byron scratched his chin, "It's a long shot.. but we can do it." he said.
Tirion nodded, "All is possible through the light." he glanced up at the three, "Get ready, we'll leave soon"
The Cathedral of Darkness was quiet this morning, if it could be called morning, being it was always dark, dreary and cold in Icecrown. Ramparts lined the grand stairs on either side, beckoning outward to those that dare enter.
In front of the Cathedral approached five figures, all dressed in identical violet robes and hoods, the common garb for a worshiper of the Cult of the Damned, even though the six were hardly regular attenders of the Cathedral's services...
Tirion glanced back at them, his grey beard the only thing visible beneath the thick cowl, the rest of his face covered in complete shadows.
"Are we all ready?" he asked "Once we start, there is no turning back."
The four Byron, Tavin, and Tirion's personal two guards all nodded, their nerves wracked with anxiousness. Aydeline for the while had chosen to stay back, which concerned Tavin but he could do little at that point.
Tirion nodded, "May the Light give us strength."
With this, the five began walking forward into the Cathedral, their heads hung low, as if praying, their hands clasped forward in the same manner of the other cultists in the cathedral.
Tavin couldn't help but glance around, noting the tall spires, the spiked chandeliers, and the multitudes of candles decorating the cathedral.
"Keep your heads down and follow my lead." Tirion whispered.
The all shuffled forth, weaving between several alters, all with shady cultists kneeling before them, praying vicious and hateful prayers.
They all reached a long elated alter, the closest to the main altar of the cathedral, which was at the very front, a man in sickly green robes, standing in front of the altar, his eyes glowing with an unholy aura.
Tirion motioned for them to bow at the altar, but continued to watch from underneath his hood.
It wasn't before long Tavin heard a commotion from behind, and Tirion whispered "Here it comes, stand ready"
Tavin glanced back, spotting four figures bearing a large metal chest, held up by thick ornate handles, much like pal bearers.
Tavin didn't need to peer inside the box to know what rested inside it, he could feel the tainted energy from his kneeling position.
The four carried the large chest up to the altar, setting it before the man at the altar, then falling to a bow before the man.
One of them spoke up, "We lost many to the faceless ones my lord." he said. "But we succeeded in retrieving the heart from Naz'anak."
The priest with the glowing eyes nodded, he reached out and unlatched the chest, carefully reaching in, and pulling out the heart, which rested on a small diadem of metal.
He turned around and presented it to the altar with a deep bow, his mouth filled with different praises, tennants and words.
"Some thing's wrong... I sense a dark presence" Tirion murmured, glancing back.
Tavin glanced back, spotting the one thing he did not want to.
He entered the cathedral with long elated strides, his wicked panels of armor gleaming maliciously in the candlelight that illuminated the halls. The sardonic skulls that themed his armor seeming to laugh at them, as he approached them, Frostmourne held powerfully in his hands, his eyes blazing brightly beneath the helmet.
His long strides lead him to the front of the altar, where the unholy cleric fell before him with a outcry of unworthiness.
The Lich King glanced at the heart for a long time, ignoring the priest at his feet, before finally he said "Uninvited guests" sounding annyoed, his chilling voice washing over them. "Did you think you'd go unnoticed inside my dominion?" he turned around to look fully at them, Tirion looking rather suprised. "I must confess... you were not altogether unexpected." he mused. "I hope you find your final resting place, to your liking"
Tirion stood up,pulling back his thick cowl " You sound a little too confident." he challenged "Especially considering the way our last encounter ended." he said, referring to the Battle of Light's Hope Chapel, where the Lich King himself was forced to retreat after being thwarted by Tirion's timley arrival.
The Lich King chuckled and clenched his fist, the runes of Frostmourne glowing brightly.
"Last time we met, you had the advantage of fighting on holy ground, paladin." he said, then he motioned to the cathedral. "You'll find that our situation has been, reveresed."
At this point everyone in the cathedral was standing, the Crusader's with thier hands inching towards their hidden blades, the cultists gripping small ritual daggers.
"That might be," Tirion began, "but I don't need to stand on holy ground to run that disembodied heart of yours through with the Ashbringer." he said boldy, pulling the Ashbringer from inside his cloak, sword a beacon of light within the evil and dark cathedral, pointing the tip directly at the heart which floated behind him on the metal diadem.
At this, the Lich King began laughing, the deep rumble in his chest mocking them all, "I call your bluff. You're a paladin after all." he glanced at the heart floating magically above the alter "Your obsession with redemption goes beyond the insane." he said. "You surely wouldn't destroy humanity's only chance to redeem its most wayward son." he mused, his eyes returning to Tirion "You'd sooner die" he challenged.
He reached out and gingerly touched the heart, "What do you see paladin?" he asked. "A wayward son, whom after years of slaughter, years of crime, cruelty and completing crestfallen campaigns, after betraying all that he loved; his kingdom, his father, his love life... you still believe he will come back, after all those years, to a foolish gathering of stereotypical paladins, who caused his downfall in the first place?"
Tirion's eyes glazed over as he looked into the heart, the small sliver of hope slowly dying out, his hand beginning to tighten around the blade.
"At last I'm sure..." he murmured, the sliver of hope and fire in his eyes dying..."There's nothing left to redeem."
The fire returned in his eyes and he raised his blade and charged towards the heart, flying at it with a powerful cleave, a roar of tearing from his lips.
The blade tore into the heart, an explosion ripping the area with a bright flash.
The priest and acolytes screamed as many nearby were killed, The Lich King was tossed back by the explosion, slamming into the nearby pillar with a deafeaning crash, Tirion was tossed the opposite direction, landing in a heap, seemingly dead, the Ashbringer falling to the ground beside him uselessly.
"You... will pay for that, old man!" the Lich King roared, holding onto his sword for support, he looked expectantly to his faithful acolytes"Kill them all!" he roared. His palms began glowing magically as he began to weave a spell.
"Defend the Highlord with your lives!" Tavin roared, tearing the cowl off his head, and his blade out of his hidden scabbard, brandishing it wildly as two Cultist's began advancing towards Tavin and Tirion.
Tavin roared and swung his blade around, dispatching one of the cultist's, but the other jumped forward and rammed his small dagger into Tavin's sword hand, instant pain lancing up his arm, causing him to drop his sword in a bloody clang.
He grimaced and seized the only nearby weapon he could, swinging the Ashbringer around, rending the cultist from hip to shoulder with one mighty stroke of the blade.
The cultist screamed in agony and fell to the floor, writhing as the Light coursed through him, conviction burning his body and tainted soul, along with the deep gash that bled profusley.
Tavin felt the power course through him, the icy tingle run along his spine, the blade feeling no lighter than a branch in his hand; a perfect extension of his arm, he had never felt or used a blade so magnificent.
He grimaced again though as he noticed the cultist's swarming in on the five, threatning to overwhelm them.
"Take courage Crusader's! You do not fight alone!" an icy, but friendly, voice suddenly shouted.
Tavin glanced over the mob of cultist's to see several heavily armed figures charging out from a portal that had apperead inside the Cathedral, Tavin instantly spotting Thassarian and Darion Mograine amidst them.
The Ebon Knight's quickly joined the battle, cutting down the suprised cultist's with ease, quickly bolstering the Crusader's spirits.
Tavin returned his attention to the cultist's behind them, hastily trying to join Byron as he wove through the evil acolytes, his blade a swarm of angry steel, dropping the worshiper's left and right skillfully.
"The Lich King is badly hurt." Byron shouted above the chaos, "We ought to stay behind and finish him." he said.
Darion quickly showed up beside them, his hands a sudden flash of dark energy, bringing up a portal.
"Tavin," He shouted, spinning around "Quick, through the portal! He won't stay down for long."
"Byron!" he tried to yell above the chaos, but searing pain ripped up his arm as another cultist struck his other arm, sending a river of blood erupting from the deep wound.
Tavin grunted and decaptitated the cultist, but dizzily fell to one knee, Darion rushing over to him, Byron nearing the Lich King in an almost suicidal charge.
Darion grabbed Tavin under the arms and began to pull him towards the portal, Tavin too weak to stand, his vision slowly growing dim from the amount of blood he had lost.
Tavin glanced back, the heavy thrum of energy from the portal beginning to pull him in.
"Hurry!" he yelled out painfully, over the screams and clashes of the battle.
Byron stopped momentairly, the path to the Lich King was clear for him; the path to Tavin and escape.. was not.
He glanced back, and smiled sorrowfully. Before raising his blade and charging the Lich King.
"NO!" Tavin cried out, but nothing came out as he was pulled through the portal..
And his vision went black.
