Yes,so ehm... I'm just going to leave this chapter here... bye bye ^^'
Listened to a lot of Mass Effect soundtrack and Two steps from hell when writing was very emotional and hard...
Chapter IX: Contempt and fear
Despite the bright and beautiful morning that awoke the villagers, Windrunner Village remained unusually quiet - and observant.
It had not been a month since the orc invasion, so the horrible memories of the incident were still fresh in the minds of the elves. In some manner, Zendarin mused, it was as if they blamed themselves for being happy while knowing that the Horde still lurked in their forests, waiting to steal that joy away.
He, if anyone, understood why it was so. He, too, had lost family during the attack.
The young arcanist kneeled down. The grass below him was still wet from the morning dew, staining his robes as he touched the ground. He gazed softly at the freshly placed tombstone before him, trying to grasp the thought that if he from now on wished to talk with his father, he would have to turn to an immobile object.
A calm breeze swept through the trees as he took a deep breath, thus regaining control of his emotions. Slowly, he reached into his robes and revealed a folded piece of parchment. He carefully unfolded it and straightened it out, studying the inked letters which were written on it. He glanced at the tombstone, as if to reassure himself that it was still there - listening.
He licked his lips nervously before speaking. "Do you know what this is, father?" he asked out loud, gesturing towards the parchment. He smiled slightly. "It is a letter from Dalaran I received yesterday. I would have presented it to you earlier, I just..." his voice faded out, and he gazed down at the parchment again. He sighed once more, before setting his eyes on the silent monument again, his somewhat held-down pride combined with sadness and longing.
"They've accepted me for studies, father," Zendarin announced. There was no reply, as he would have expected. However, at the same time, it felt as if a huge weight was being lifted off of him. Perhaps he just longed to say it out loud then, a part of him pretending that he would hear his father's response.
A sudden applause from behind him caused Zendarin to jump up in surprise. He raised his hands in defense, ready to cast a spell if it was an orc approaching. However, he found himself facing not the demonic red eyes of an orc, but rather, the clear blue ones of his cousin.
Vereesa smiled nervously at him, surprise over his reaction written all over her face. "Did I frighten you? I'm sorry."
Zendarin relaxed and lowered his hands. He felt his cheeks burning in response to his seemingly paranoid behavior. "No, no... Forgive me, I just uh, did not expect anyone to come here." He turned back to the grave. "I thought I was alone."
The silver-haired ranger shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. She had been with him when the news of her uncle's death was announced. She would never be able to let go of the image of Zendarin's face, his shock, his sadness, his anger... The reaction when hearing what you thought impossible. At that time, she had lost an uncle. He had lost a father. She couldn't imagine being in his place, and she prayed it would never occur.
As her cousin knelt down before the tombstone again, she followed his example and held her hands in prayer. Since the Horde attacked, she had noticed how her cousin had shown less and less emotion - the horrible memories were draining him of it. Her heart was aching as she watched him suffer, knowing that there was nothing to be done. No words could console him. No idle conversations could bring his father back. Still, she felt as if she had no right to disturb him in his mourning, and so she remained silent.
She took a brief moment to inhale the nature around her. Gruesome things had taken place beneath the red-leafed trees of Eversong; still they breathed and sung out to her; perhaps to comfort them all. Bearing that thought, Vereesa could not help but smile in gratefulness.
"It seems like rain clouds approach," Zendarin suddenly uttered, startling his cousin. She looked up and saw that indeed, thick, dark clouds were starting to engulf the blue sky. "Perhaps we should head back to the village," he continued and stood up, Vereesa following his example.
She nodded. "Indeed. And I suspect that mother will – "The young ranger interrupted herself, staring alerted into the woods. In a brief seconds, all her senses stood on fire, reacting to every single being. Her heart started beating faster and faster. "Something's wrong" she hissed.
Zendarin looked at her questionably, but before he could open his mouth a piercing scream scattered through the trees, confirming Vereesa's worst fears. She could already hear their brutish language, the sound of their axes flying through the air…
Without another word, the two cousins began their panicked sprint towards their home. Praying desperately that they would not be too late. And as they ran, the scent of smoke dashed at them.
"I thought the scouts had driven them all out!" Zendarin shouted as he ducked for a branch in their way.
"They must have returned! Oh by the sun, I hope we're not too late!" Vereesa shouted back.
The wind whipped harshly in her face as they finally arrived at the village, already usurped by the fray. Vereesa's stomach twisted into a knot as the images before her brought back the memories from not so long ago – images she had prayed so hard would not repeat themselves.
The orcs seemed to have taken the high elves by surprise – the panicked villagers ran in panic to escape the brute, green-skinned creatures, all the while the out posted rangers attempted some sort of organized attack, in vain. She caught one of the unit leaders, Alarith, standing in the middle of the chaos, desperately barking orders to his rangers while firing off arrows at any orc that dared get to close. Ignoring the protests of her cousin, she ran off and tried to reach his side.
She had almost caught up with him when a muscular arm hit her in the side, throwing her into the nearest building. A stung of pain spread throughout her body and caused tears to form in her eyes, blurring her vision. The young ranger attempted to sit up as the orc sneered down at her. He grunted something at her in his native language, but she neither could nor cared to understand.
She groaned as she reached for her blade, the weapon having slipped from her grasp during the fall. Her ability to focus before her was weak. The orc that towered above her grunted and swung his axe, to kill her before she had the time to defend herself. She gasped.
The orc staggered, a blank expression spreading over his ugly features. As he stumbled forward, Vereesa swiftly moved out of way. She allowed herself to relax first when she could see the arrow embedded deeply in his head. A gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to finally look up at her saviour.
"Ísen!" she cried, throwing her arms around her brother in relief. The oldest of the Windrunner children was covered in blood, not his own Vereesa assumed, since he bore no visible cuts, and he smiled slightly at the sight of his younger sister.
He hugged her back for a moment, and then turned serious again. "The orcs ambushed a guard patrol. One of them managed to get here in time to warn us, but I wonder if it made a difference." He sighed in dejection, gazing at the chaos that took place around them.
Vereesa nodded slowly, her brows furrowed. "Where are the others? Are they safe?"
"Sylvanas and her rangers are holding them off in the market. I told Lirath to barricade himself at home. Mother and father, I don't know."
"I see." Vereesa bit her lip in thought. She tried to remember where she had last put her bow and arrows, but was disturbed by a sudden war cry, from one of their attackers. She had to make due with what she had at the moment.
"Back away!" she yelled to Ísen, motioning for him to gain more range. He darted off without a word, and she drew her blade again, taunting the orc.
The brute creature sneered at her before lifting his own weapon, a heavy mace that dripped with blood. Vereesa felt nausea creep upon her, so she charged before it overwhelmed her. She swiftly dodged the mace as it flew through the air, her lithe body an advantage against the large orc. Before he had the time to react, she lashed out with her sword against his unprotected chest, drawing blood immediately. He snarled at her in fury, lunging at her.
"Now!" she cried out. Her sudden shout confused her opponent, who stopped dead in his movement. Just long enough for Ísen's arrow to hit him.
Vereesa took a moment to breathe out once their enemy was down, but she knew she couldn't relax for long. She had to find her parents and make sure they were alright. She looked up as Ìsen approached to tug the arrow out from its prey. He sighed as it broke in two, and quickly discarded it.
"I will go to the market, try to flank them," she told him steadily. She looked down at her blade and disgustedly wiped the orcish blood off with her cloak. "I also need to find a bow. There is a possibility I left mine back home."
Her brother nodded, and then looked away at the sound of a collapse somewhere further into the village. "Then this is where we part. I need to find my squad." He was already turning away, putting a new arrow to his bowstring.
"May the eternal sun guide you, brother" Vereesa said quietly, as she watched him run back into the fray. Against her wishes, she had to take a moment to calm herself before doing the same. The Horde would get what was coming to them.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Don't let them get through!" Sylvanas yelled at the top of her lungs, her arms already tiring of the gruesome effort. She was clueless as to how these savage orcs had managed to take the elves by surprise, when it was clear that they could not stealth, melt into the shadows. Their red eyes, their alien green skin, their brute movement... She flew into a rage just thinking that they walked her forests.
Two of the charging orcs ran straight towards her. She gritted her teeth and sent off two arrows without a second thought, felling her victims with one breath. All around her, her rangers were trying their best to hold the enemy off as well. She cursed as one of the less experienced ones were knocked down by his orcish attacker. Before she had the time to get through to his side, the orc raised his blade and sent it through the young elf's stomach.
Sylvanas cried out in rage and charged the orc, sword in hand, who looked at her in dumb surprise. He snarled and parried her blow in the last moment. She cursed as she felt herself being pushed back by his strength, but her anger and determination was stronger than his arm. With one quick jerk of the blade, Sylvanas unarmed her opponent and slashed his throat. Her foe was down, but she gave room for her anger. She stomped the orc's head against the ground until she felt sure that he was dead.
"G-general..."
The Windrunner daughter swirled around. The young ranger who had been cut down was still breathing, but he was bleeding heavily and his face grew paler by the second. She cursed again and threw herself down at his side, putting one hand to the back of his head for support. Upon further examination of his wound, she realized that he would not have long if no healers arrived. Her eyes flickered around the chaos in desperation, but no mages were sighted. Either the few who had been present at the village had fled the field, or they were already dead. She looked back at the ranger.
"You're beyond any salvation I can offer you. I would rather give you a quick death now by my own hand, than surrender you to these fiends," she told him softly with regret.
He stared at her with a pained gaze, and then nodded, almost indiscernible. She returned the nod, and then lifted his dagger, her own blade drenched in orc blood and thus not worthy of such a task. She allowed him to press his eyes together, and then drove the dagger through his heart, immediately stopping its beat and making his death quick and merciful. His body went limp, so she carefully laid him down on the ground.
The Ranger-General braced herself, and as steadily as she could she gathered the dead ranger's weapons and brought them with her as she sped towards her remaining archers. She dropped them close to where they made their stand, and then gazed out over the situation.
Though it didn't seem as if there were more of the Horde approaching, the quel'dorei were still being overwhelmed. There were more elven bodies on the market ground than orcs, and if their reinforcements did not arrive there were sure to be more. But she realized that she could not lose face. If she gave show of her growing lack of confidence to her rangers, they would follow suit. So without another word, she strung her bow to finish off the next orc that dared get through.
.-.-.-.-.-.-
Vereesa ducked the orc's blow and went directly for his legs. With one experienced lash, she severed his hamstring and brought him to the ground. The orc cried out in pain, a sound that would soon turn out to be his dying shout. The elven girl put her strength into her next strike and drove the blade through his neck. She twisted it a few times before pulling it out and backing away.
She had not been able to find a bow, but so far she had been able to protect herself and the fleeing villagers with her melee weapon alone. She just hoped that her skills in close-up battle would not fail her, and reminded herself to practice the art more, if they would ever survive this mess.
Looking up, she saw one of the Horde infiltrators leaning over his newly felled foe, searching her body for anything worth taking. The idea alone that the orcs could appreciate elven culture struck her as utterly ridiculous, but it angered her none the less to see him defile their precious belongings. She gave out a war cry and charged, causing the orc to turn around earlier than she had anticipated.
He growled and reached for his club, muttering something in his language, and made himself ready for battle. Vereesa lunged at him, her sword aimed at his throat. Before she could reach him, he struck back, landing a blow in her chest. The force knocked her several feet away.
Fortunately enough, she just missed being thrown into a wall, yet the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She struggled and gasped for breath, rolling over on the ground in pain. She estimated herself to have broken a few ribs, but it was nothing that would keep her from fighting. She gazed at her orcish opponent, who approached her with a sneer. She just had to... stand for a little while...
The orc suddenly widened his eyes in surprise, looking down at his massive shoulder to see the tip of an arrow protruding from his green flesh. Vereesa followed his gaze in and searched for its archer, already fearing the worst.
A young elf stood facing them up on an abandoned wagon. He already had a new arrow aimed at his foe, who seemed to smirk in mockery at him. Even Vereesa could tell that Lirath, her precious little brother, was shaking with fear. "No..." she whispered, her head beginning to pound.
The brute creature reached to roughly pull the arrow out of his shoulder, and then slowly approached the young ranger. His hands shaking, Lirath cried out and fired again, the arrow-tip bouncing off the orc's chest-guard. He immediately paled, panic visibly starting to creep upon him as he hurried to try and string his bow again.
Vereesa watched in horror as the orc knocked the wooden weapon out of his hands with a grunt. She struggled to get up against the pain, but her body failed her. Tears of panic and sorrow fell down her cheeks as she watched the scene that took place in front of her.
The orc took a hold of Lirath's neck with one rough hand, holding him high over the ground. The Windrunner son whimpered in fear. The orc snarled, and then took a hold of the young elf's head with his other hand... and crushed it.
Lirath's dejected cry of agony was joined by that of his sister, who unable to tear her eyes from the nightmarish scene, desperately tried to tell herself that was simply a horrible and bad dream. But suddenly her brother's body went limp in the orc's grip, and was tossed into a wall like a rag-doll.
"NO!" she half-screamed, half-sobbed, her own body starting to give up its efforts in sorrow.
She could barely register what was happening before her. Not Ísen appearing out of the distance to lunge at his brother's attacker. Not the brutal and wanted vengeance of a life already lost. Not the chaos that continued to erupt around them. How could the world go on, when the most beautiful life had already slipped away from its embrace?
Vereesa crawled forward, her physical pain numbed. With every movement she made, she hoped to be awoken from this cruel nightmare, for no world could be so cruel as to take her precious brother away. Not Lirath. Not the young boy who cried when they left him behind for the royal ball. Not him, who said he wanted to be a ranger just like his siblings.
Kneeling next to her and their brother's corpse, was Ísen. He was covered in blood, sufficing as proof of his murderer's demise, his expression blank with a hint of confusion and sorrow. As if he, just like Vereesa, refused to believe what was already made clear.
She reached out to touch Lirath's cheek. His eyes were open and wide, staring up and on into the sky, just like when he was a child and would admire its mystique. A thick layer of blood trailed down unto his face, reminding them of the surreal. Lirath Windrunner, youngest of the clan, was dead.
"Lirath..." Vereesa whispered, sobbing, still hopelessly trying to reach back to him. "Lirath...!"
The first victim of many had been claimed. The proud people of the quel'dorei had been set upon the long road of misfortune and tragedy that fate had planned for them, though it still remained unsaid.
When the reinforcements from Silvermoon finally arrived at Windrunner village, it seemed to many as if there was nothing left saving. The Horde was pushed back and its stragglers exterminated, slaughtered for the blood they had shed. Even after the fires had been put out, the fray continued to play out before Vereesa's eyes.
The orcs had taken everything from her. And they would take much more, she thought to herself as she staggered past the ruins of her home, hopelessly watching the grieving families, the orphaned children. Besides Lirath, she had lost other family on this day. Aunts and uncles... and her mother.
She found Galéndi kneeling at her corpse several hours later, and then the shock became too much for her to handle. She felt her knees failing her, and how her surroundings darkened. The sound of crying and the sight of the dead was drowned out.
