Stormborn

by HighestandCo

A night elf druid and his students hunt blood elf pilgrims deep into the Netherstorm. When their Shan'do begins screaming in the night because of nightmares, his students doubt his sanity. But what the blood elves lead them to is a dark secret hidden far from civilization - and they discover that it is far worse than mere dreams.

10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He set his students to guard the Highborne. Yeshaila looked like she had broken her leg, so she remained down with Sel'uen watching over her.

It was when Ero'then was taking better stock of the situation that he saw the goblin.

Drex was lying several meters away from the main battle. He was on his side, and around him were a couple demon corpses. One had died on top of him. It was a felhound.

Ero'then sprinted to him. He shoved the demons off the guide and growled disgustedly as he tore one of the felhound's sucker-like arms out from Drex's cheek.

He caught his breath when he saw that Drex was still breathing. Barely.

His green skin had deteriorated to a sort of yellow. The demon blood covered his face and chest and arms. Ero'then put his hand to the goblin's head and swore softly.

He spent some time with him, cleaning him up and working the best of his healing abilities. He tore off his pack and worked with the few herbs he had. Behind him, he felt his students' gazes.

But Drex had been more than wounded. The combination of the demon blood and the hound's life-sucking ability had left the goblin's body broken and largely unable to function. He could only do so much.

Finally, he picked Drex up and carried him over to his students and the Highborne. A couple of the high elves had sat up, and were sitting complacently. Their leader was also sitting. His students were eying them nervously, but they also seemed anxious about their Shan'do's cargo.

"Is he dead, Shan'do?" Renarion asked.

Ero'then glanced sharply at his Thero'shan. "No, Renarion," he snapped. "Master Drex is not dead. He still breathes and his heart still beats." Carefully, Ero'then placed the goblin down and undid his pack.

Renarion said, a bit more compassionately than before, "Is he sick, Shan'do? Is there something we can do?"

"No," he said. He retrieved his tent and began unfolding it. "I've done all I can for him. The demon has made him weak. He must fight his own battle now."

Renarion did not ask further. Ero'then was glad he didn't. He knew well enough what his Thero'shan was thinking.

Their guide was dying. And they were stranded in the middle of the Netherstorm.