Part 10

"Is that it?"

"Uh-huh," Ancasta said as she and Kill peered through the snowy branches at the top of the mountain and the fortress built into its summit. "You can see where my avalanche was, where all the snow was disturbed. That's the wall I jumped off of."

Kill clenched his jaw hard to keep himself from saying something the impressionable young Mage might pick up. The drop from the top of the crenellated wall to the point where the snow had obviously fallen away was at least a hundred feet. "No more snow-dives. Ever. Understand, Copperbolt?"

Ancasta snorted shortly and her teeth started chattering. "Used to do it all the time back home."

"I don't want to have to explain to your parents the one time your technique goes off," he muttered.

"Know how to come back," Ancasta said.

Kill humphed at that and reached up to unsnap his cloak clasp, slid the fur-lined cloak off and around her shoulders. "You freeze solid out here, the Mechagnomes will pick you up, thaw you out, and turn you into a robot."

"Robot?" Ancasta asked as she clutched the cloak around her. "What about you?" she asked as he prepared to climb down out of the tree.

Kill looked back at her and grinned a little. "Looks like I've got a climb ahead of me. It'll get in the way. What's the matter, black leather too manly for your girly-girl sensibilities?"

"Girly-girl? Me? I kill Wendigos for a living!" Ancasta said with a scowl.

Kill laughed at that. "You're going to need that cloak for armor then. For when they sneak up on your back."

Ancasta sniffed at that. "I've got Owl for that. Anything gets past him deserves what it gets."

Kill smiled, then tweaked her ear. "Ravenholdt's going to love that when he gets summoned for his challenges. I'll have to tell Fahrad the boy now comes with a little Gnome girl attached."

"Little? Hello, Kettle, let me introduce you to Pot!" Ancasta almost yelped. "You're only three inches taller than me!"

"Well for us that's like dog years, isn't it?" Kill teased.

"A Gnomish giant is a contradiction in terms!" Ancasta yelled after him as he began to swing down out of the tree, laughing all the while.

"I should have known the size issue would come up by now," Zarissa said with a straight face as Kill dropped down to the snow beside her.

"Served its purpose," Kill said with a shrug. "She's warm now."

"Oh, that could be taken in so many, many ways," Zarissa said with a smirk as he ran to where Zachius and Leonydus were waiting for him. Zarissa watched him go, then turned to watch as Wasichu caught the young Mage as she dropped out of the tree and into his arms. She hadn't been resident in Stormwind for several months and had missed Ancasta's arrival, but it seemed the girl had made a place for herself in a lot of people's lives. Zarissa thought on hearing that the girl was only an Apprentice that she'd be little more than the Guild mascot. Maybe that was true to some extent, but she clearly had potential and the willingness to risk herself in battle. Zarissa had known Warlocks in her father's school who flatly refused to risk their own necks in combat, casting their spells and commnding their minions from nowhere near the scene of the action.

"The day is passing," one of the Frostborn guides said as the three Rogues prepared to leave on their scouting mission.

"That it is," Kill answered. He looked around at his Guildmates. "Wait half an hour and then start making a ruckus. Draw their forces out and keep them engaged. Try to make enough of a stink to get this Warlock Cyridon involved personally."

"Won't be hard," Zarissa said. "I could challenge him."

"Too risky," Kill said, shaking his head. "Offer to join up."

Zarissa snorted an involuntary laugh at that. "Join up? That's not how my kind does such things, Boss. He'd be far more suspicious of me offering an alliance than challenging him."

Kill fixed her with a steady glare. "If you do, you need to win."

Zarissa nodded shortly. "I intend to."

"And after, Master?" Stalkingwolf asked.

"Circle back. There's only one path up the mountain, and it's only wide enough for one person at a time. Sheer drop off if anyone falls," Kill said. "By that time, we should have Jevalyn and the others free, and we'll meet you at the courtyard gate. At which time, I hope, someone will be able to port us all back home."

"Otherwise, we fight our way out," Leonydus muttered.

-O-O-

Ironforge's perpetual cavern gloom was made bright as day by the convulsing light and thunderous roar of dozens of spells aimed at the black-clad Death Knight. The flash of whirling blades, the cries of the Dwarven guardsmen as they leaped into battle to defend their King, the snarls and yowls of hunting cats and wolves, the twang of bowstrings and thunk of arrows, all a violent confusion that OwlDance could not sort out. But the advantage was that all that light made for very deep shadows. And that was what he knew how to use.

He slipped around the throng along the wall in the corner just shy of King Magni's throne room door - undoubtedly the King's guardsmen were closed about him like a turtle's shell by now. The Death Knight had come in through the shortcut passage from the main gates, the shortest path even though it passed before the Bank and Auction House and the perpetual crowds there. He had finally been waylaid here, just before the King's throne room. No fool he, for he had backed himself as close to the wall as was safe, given the reach of his great red-glowing broadsword.

And those few feet of space in the shadows were all Owl needed.

Maybe this would make up, at least a little, for BloodThorn. Maybe he could still prove to his Master he was worth training, if he proved he wasn't too skittish to battle the Horde.

He gripped his daggers, focused on the articulated seams between the plates of the iron breastplate, and leaped upon the black armored Knight.

-O-O-

"Bring torches!" Sorlan Anvilspur called as he surveyed the pile of bodies half a dozen deep in the blood-drenched corner of the cavern. "By the Allfather's Hand, what a mess! But we got'im! Timli, help me here, let's get all these good brave folk sorted out so they don't wake in a pile of blood and gore. And so we can string the damned Blood Elf up by his ears and gut him like the maggot-filth he is! We'll give the King first crack at'im, shall we?"

In moments the bodies of the defenders had been separated, and a few had begun to wake from death.

So it was a small crowd of dazed, incredulous onlookers who realized that at the bottom of the pile lay an ebony-haired Night Elf in fine purple and gray leather - with his hands still clenched around the twin daggers embedded deep in the Death Knight's body through the seams between the plates of armor.

"A Rogue?" one of the revived Mages asked dazedly. "And with daggers, of all things?"

Anvilspur threw back his head and laughed. "Aye, daggers! Timli, run and tell the King we have a hero to feast with this night! A Rogue, by the Great Forge! All that firepower and it was an Elven lad with a pair of daggers that did'em in!"

-O-O-

Jevalyn looked up and around in the darkness as she heard the Orc guards approaching, and with them rapid-fire Draenei profanity in a strident young female voice.

"Throw the little bitch in with the others!" the head guard commanded with a snarl. "Hopefully Master Cyridon won't notice we lost one if the numbers are the same."

The door of the communal holding cell scraped open with a screech of metal on stone, and the struggling form of a young Draenei girl was flung inside. She fell among them, still cursing, and wrenched herself away from the two Humans she landed on to fling herself at the bars of the closing door.

Jevalyn scrambled up to her knees and called out in Draenei to her as two of the Orcs stabbed her brutally with their spears, the thunks into her shoulder and stomach sickening as she gasped and gurgled out her breath at the impact and fell limp to the floor. The Orcs laughed uproariously at this and slammed the cell door shut and stalked back up the corridor and out of sight.

"Don't touch her! Let me!" Jevalyn said in Common to the Night Elf priestess and the Human Mage who immediately moved to the girl. She hurried to the girl's side, put her hands on her wounds and began to invoke the Naaru. The bright golden light of the holy power enveloped Jevalyn and the young Draenei girl both, and the wounds began to knit under Jevalyn's hands. By the time her fervent chant ended the girl's eyes drifted open.

"Do you speak the Common tongue?" she asked in their language as she helped the girl sit up.

"I - a little," the girl said haltingly, with a thick Draenei accent. "Not very good."

Jevalyn nodded. "Your name?" she asked in Common, then repeated it in Draenei.

"A'na. Understand," the girl said, her voice still rough as she clutched at her stomach and tried to breath deeply. "I name Skyamaalu." She continued in Dranei, thanking Jevalyn for the Gift of the Naaru chant that had healed her wounds. Then she switched back to her sketchy Common. "I Shaman. To Astranaar, order of the Prophet."

Jevalyn nodded her understanding. The Prophet Velen had ordered the younger Shaman to journey to Astranaar on some errand, probably delivering messages or retrieving something of need. The younger Shaman were often given such duties, when they were not aiding to help heal those still being revived from the suspension pods. "You were caught by the Horde?" she asked, then repeated it in Draenei.

Skyamaalu looked bewildered at that. "Hordth?" she asked, confused.

"Horde," Jevalyn corrected, speaking slowly so that the girl could comprehend the pronunciation. She explained that the Blood Elves near Blood Watch were of the Horde, as were the Orcs, Trolls, and sometimes Goblins, and that they were sworn enemies of the Alliance for various reasons.

Skyamaalu shook her head slowly. "Na. No. Little, green - " She stopped, then used her hands to shape the suggestion of large ears. Then held her hand up to indicate a small size.

"A Goblin?" Jevalyn asked, and asked if it had a long nose in Draenei. Skyamaalu nodded. "You were captured by a Goblin?"

Skyamaalu shook her head, then indicated she'd become caught in some sort of net, possibly originally set to capture bears. She'd been trying to fight her way out of it when something hit her on the head and knocked her unconscious. When she'd wakened, she'd been tied hand and foot and a Blood Elf in fantastical clothing was sneering down at her with a black stone knife in his hand. Then she'd been hauled up, untied, and dragged off to a troop of Orc guards and a glowing portal.

"And here," she concluded, gesturing around her.

Jevalyn nodded and sat back on her hooves. "And as helpless as the rest of us." She switched back to Draenei to ask if her Totem amulets had been taken. Skyamaalu's frightened look told her the girl had only just realized her amulets were gone.

"Ha! The girl was sucker-punched by a Goblin," came the pleased crackle from the Goblin in the cell across the corridor. "Well well. So you aliens are as vulnerable to a good old fashioned whack on the head as any of us."

"And so are you," Jevalyn called out calmly. She pushed to her feet and sank her awareness within herself. The Gift of the Naaru still worked. Her Ghost Wolf form may still as well, since it did not require a totem. She began to chant the spell softly and in a moment her form melted into the black shadow form of the Wolf.

But she could not pass beyond the bars of the cell.

"We're all trapped, girl," the Goblin cackled out of the darkness. "Except for those little Gnome girls. They got through just fine. Probably dead now, or making pretty paperweights on Lord Cyridon's desk as Soul Shards."

Jevalyn broke the spell and stayed at the bars, letting the cold stone chill her forehead as she stood there, her eyes closed, praying to the Naaru for Ancasta's safe return.

"Jeva? Stand away," said a low voice at her side.

Jevalyn startled badly and leaped back as a quiet scratching sounded right where she had been standing. And then a familiar small, black-clad form was standing there, fading into sight.

"Master?"

Kill glanced up at her and grinned. "Your brother's at the foot of the mountain, about ready to chew through an icicle. I need you to go calm him down before he goes out picking fights with Storm Giants."

Jevalyn stood there gaping at her Guild Master for several long seconds, then fell to her knees as the lock popped open and the cell door slid aside.

"Ladies, if you'll follow me, I'd be happy to escort you all out of this dreary dungeon," Kill said with a smirk and an inviting flourish of one hand.

Then he darted inside and Jevalyn sobbed with joy as he jumped up and into her arms.

"Hey! Gnome! What about us?" the Goblin woman warbled as they began to vacate the cell. The bars of the cell across the corridor were suddenly full of peering eyes and hands clutching at the stone. "Those two little girls, I can take you to them. I know where Cyridon's got'em locked up."

Kill snorted a mirthless laugh at that. "Sure you do. One of them is sucking up to Cyridon right now, as only a second-generation traitor knows how. The other is at the foot of this mountain, free as a bird, wrapped up in my cloak and itching for a fight with another Wendigo. As for letting you all free - " His hard, glittering black eyes connected with the Blood Elf sorceress, and all expression fell from his face. "Not a chance in hell. If your own people don't care enough about you to rescue you, that's your own problem."

"You'll pay for this, Gnome!" the Blood Elf sorceress screamed after them.

But Kill didn't hear.

-O-O-

"Okay, so we're agreed," Kill heard a young Gnomish voice say as he slipped silent as a shadow to the door of Cyridon's cavern throne chamber. "You port me back to Theramore. I'll worm my way into Gadgetzan, by the time you get there I'll be able to hand it over to you on a platter."

"For such a small person you obviously think big," Cyridon said in a droll voice.

Twinkle snorted at that. "Gadgetzan is strategic. You get in good with the Goblins, that's another source of good coin. It's Kalimdor, but just as many Horde go through there as Alliance. The kinds of people no one cares about. It's the end of the world. It's a good source of souls to harvest, not to mention a potential source of mercenary troops."

Kill scowled, clenched his jaw hard to keep from leaping out of concealment and putting an end to the girl right then and there. Again. Ancasta might be glad she hadn't killed the other girl permanently, but now -

"And after you send your troops in, I'm leaving," Twinkle snarled. "I got a score to settle."

"This other Gnome child, what's her name again?" Cyridon asked lazily.

Kill slipped inside the room and faded into sight. "Her name is Ancasta Copperbolt, apprentice to Mistress Jennea Cannon of the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences. And someday in the future, Twinkle Screwberry, you're going to realize she outclasses you ten to one."

Twinkle began to whirl toward the voice but pitched forward, gurgling on her own blood. Embedded deep in her back was a black steel throwing stilleto with the crest of Gnomeregan embossed on the pommel.

Cyridon leaped to his feet, but the Gnome Rogue had vanished again.

"You're going to need better tools than that to destroy the Alliance, Warlock," Kill's voice said, seemingly out of the air itself. Cyridon whirled around, seeking the source. "Oh, and by the way - checkmate."

Zachius, Leonydus and Kill all faded into blurring sight as they leaped upon the Warlock and began their attack.

-O-O-

Zarissa stood at the top of the crenellated fortress wall and cursed softly. The courtyard was full of Orcs and her Guildmates, the Jenkins boys and StalkingWolf and Wasichu using a rifle one of the Frostborn guides had loaned him.

"Look! There's the Troll!" Ancasta said suddenly at her side and Zarissa turned to see a tall, gangly, blue-skinned form sneaking from one bit of cover to another at the other side of the courtyard in front of the stables. "Can you get him from here? Want me to help?"

"I can get him, I want you to keep watch over there at the guard tower," she said, gently shooing the little Gnome toward the open door of the abandoned guard post. "One of those Orcs might get the bright idea to come up here with a bow. If they do, they're all yours."

"Yeah!" Ancasta said enthusiastically and darted off to stand guard at the door, Kill's black cloak flapping behind her in the wind.

Zarissa smiled after her, then stepped forward and sighted on the Troll. "Azatael? If you'll get the blue gentleman's attention? Introduce us, please."

"With pleasure, Mistress," the minion purred, and roared as he raced to engage their prey.

-O-O-

The throne room was awash in blood, the Warlock's magical armor peeled and pried aside and ruptured to reveal great gaping fatal wounds. Leonydus unslung his axe as Zachius shoved the body into the proper position, and with one swing of the blade the head rolled free trailed by the long golden hair, sightless eyes still bulging.

"Go. Take that outside and end the fight," Kill said shortly as his two fellow Rogues hurried to down healing potions. "Get Zarissa and Jevalyn and bring them here, and that Night Elf priestess I saw with the prisoners. I'm going to look for all their magical weapons and amulets, I might need them. And go hide that somewhere it can't get out of," he snarled at last, nudging Twinkle Screwberry's dead body with a toe. "I don't want Ancasta seeing this little bitch again."

"Right," Leonydus said shortly. "Good day's work, Boss."

"Let's keep it that way, gentlemen," Kill said with a little smirk. He vanished as the two of them left, Cyridon's head dangling from Leonydus's hand.

-O-O-

"Oh look, a matching set," Zarissa said with false gaiety as Leonydus came out of the fortress's main door. She sauntered up to the two of them swinging the Troll's head by its blue-green braids. "So, boys, want to trade? Or looking to buy?"

"Where's the Orc?" Zachius said, his eyes scanning the knots where the Jenkins boys, StalkingWolf and Wasichu were still battling a dozen or more Orcs. "The Orc leader. Where is he?"

Zarissa almost said, "Seen one Orc, you've seen them all," but then stopped when she realized all those still fighting or dead on the ground were only guards.

"Surrender, Alliance dogs!" came the roar from atop the wall. "Surrender now, or the little girl dies in my hands!"

Zarissa looked up and felt rage color her vision red. For the Orc leader stood atop the guard walk, and Ancasta was struggling in his hands.

"Why - does - everyone - always - call - me - LITTLE?" Ancasta ground out amidst her struggles. A flash of white light burst from her hands, and with an odd schlooping sound the Orc holding her suddenly vanished.

"Anca?" Jevalyn screamed out from the courtyard.

A very quiet but frantic "BAAAA!" came from on top of the wall.

"Don't call me LITTLE!" A moment later Ancasta climbed up on top of the crenelatted wall and glared down at them all. "And that goes for the rest of you too!"

Silence fell for several seconds, and then Zachius stepped forward, nodded up to her. "Yes ma'am. I'll remember."

"So will I," Zarissa agreed.

Very quietly, Azatael chuckled.