Chapter 10

"Lok-Narash! LOK-NARASH!"

"What's going on?" exclaimed Kalya as she startled awake by the shouting. She was mildly stunned to discover she had fallen asleep against Necronim's chest and pulled away to look up at him. His eyes were as bright again as they were the day she met him and Kwaaku, glowing golden with some emotion she didn't quite comprehend. "Saran?"

He looked at her and replied, "They're calling for arms. Something is happening."

Suddenly there was a high-pitched wail that resounded through the walls, making Kalya clasp her hands over her ears and him wince. "What was that?!"

"Sylvanas," he replied shortly, giving her further proof that he didn't see the former Quel'dorei as the queen most of the Forsaken did. And she could see his reasoning, especially after what she had done to him. "I need to go up."

"You're still not healed!"

"I'm healed well enough," said Necronim sharply. He then softened his tone as he pulled away from her, saying, "I've been kept out of the fight for too long, Kalya. Something will be coming to our door soon – coming after the rest of the Forsaken. I'm not going to let it take me without a fight and a dagger in its damnable side."

As he rose to his feet, only wobbling slightly, he clenched a fist and snarled, "I won't be controlled again. I won't!"

"Saran…has something happened?"

Kalya staggered out of the bed after him, fumbling for her shoes before helping him find his gear. He had no chest piece, however, as she was still wearing the remains of it and pinned a half-cloak at his throat. He didn't answer her until he closed the clasp on his belt, adjusting his two daggers so one rested at each hip.

"Something…something spoke to me as I woke. Not the Lich King, I wouldn't still be in control of myself if it were him. But…there is something out there that either wants us under control or just to rip our souls from us and turn us back into the mindless creatures we were. I won't go back to that, Kalya."

She stared at him for a moment then flung her arms around his chest, causing him to stiffen for a moment. Then he closed his arms around her, savoring the feel of her living warmth and pressing his face against her hair.

"This is the last time we can do this," he muttered. "After this…no more showing how we feel. We can't risk it."

"I understand," she whispered. Then she tilted her head back so she could look at him and sniffed, blinking back tears. "And I won't let you fall, Saran."

He smiled and pulled away from her, caressing her cheek briefly. "Just don't kill yourself trying to help me. I'm not worth that much trouble."

She nodded and his face suddenly closed off, becoming that same mask of indifference he'd worn when they'd met. He turned and closed his fist around the doorknob, pulling it open and looking outside. Both Gramun and Wrost were gone from outside the door and he rushed out at a jog with one hand on each dagger. She rushed after him, not quite able to keep up with him but she could keep him in sight. Upstairs he ran into the Hold and brushed past the Royal Guard and Thrall's Kor'kron Elite on the way outside, a hand on each dagger.

He burst past Sylvanas standing in the doorway to the Hold and sprinted on by, taking a sharp right when he charged out into the dusty roads. The pounding of Kalya's feet behind him echoed in his ears as he ran, right up until he reached the bridge that stretched to the flight tower. Instead of taking that route like she would, he bounced down from the path across roofs to the ground and continued towards the front gate where a large group had formed. He slid past easily, though he felt a bit of a twinge in his right side as he twisted around a big Tauren male's elbow, and scowled as he came to the front of the croup. Three guards were holding down what looked to be a female Forsaken and he half recognized the big sword that lay near her. Another guard was hovering nearby as Caren, her hood thrown back, supported a Forsaken mage who appeared on the verge of collapse.

"Caren!" he rasped. "Who…"

"We…we came from the Undercity," gasped the mage, trying to struggle to stand on his own. "Var-Varimathras charged us to come. He…"

Caren frowned and said quickly, "Wait and speak of this to Sylvanas, Resden. And you three! Let her up!"

"Please," added Necronim as the three guards didn't look ready to comply. "I know we're all under suspicion right now but I know her."

"She keeps snarling!" exclaimed one of the guards. "Just like…"

He snarled himself at that and spat, "She's only been able to snarl since she was struck down by the Plague! Something happened to her voice and she has not been able to speak a word since she awoke from that nightmare. Now let her up!"

"Please," said Caren gently to the three guards. "Hover around her if you must and take her weapon but let the Warchief decide whether she is the danger the others have been!"

At that the trio grunted and moved away, allowing the female Forsaken to sit up and straighten her dusty and dented armor. She ran a rotted hand back through her wild mane of purple tinted hair then rose and moved quickly towards Necronim. Her hands started to fly through a complicated series of motions but he stilled them with his, shaking his head.

"Wait a moment, Scy," he said quietly. "Then you can tell everything at once and I can translate."

She frowned at that then nodded, her glowing eyes filled with a deep regret. And he'd seen it often enough when traveling with her the few times he had to know such a look was over her lost voice. Lucky for him, she had been a Lordaeron guard and not one in Stormwind, otherwise he might have never escaped the Deeps like he had.

"Nec!"

He turned as Kalya pressed her way through the crowd, having acquired a hooded cloak from somewhere – his guess was that it was Kwaaku's work – and he squeezed her shoulder gently. "All's fine," he assured. "We're heading back to the Hold."

She nodded then looked beyond him at the female Forsaken, who was staring at her in shock. Necronim smiled and ushered the pair forward with one arm behind each, the three guards following closely behind them.

Caren bypassed them moments later on the back of a black wolf, the Forsaken mage held firmly in front of her against her chest. Hissing, the rogue urged the moving group faster and they arrived back at the entrance to Grommash Hold as a guard was tugging the wolf away from the door. The three guards behind them moved them further in and they arrived to see Caren urging the mage to drink a potion as Sylvanas hovered nearby.

"What news?" demanded the Banshee Queen.

"Give him a moment!" snarled Caren, eyes flaring feral as she spun towards the Forsaken woman. Sylvanas drew herself up haughtily but the druid had apparently had had enough. "And if you dare try those tactics of yours, I'll make personally sure that you find yourself meeting the same fate as Xavius!"

"You dare…!"

"Peace!" bellowed Thrall, well and truly ending the argument. "Druid Carentareta, please take care of the mage so he may answer our questions."

Caren frowned, still glaring at the Banshee Queen, but inclined her head as she rumbled, "Yes, Warchief." She turned back towards Resden, who looked slightly better, and gave him another potion that was handed to her by one of the nearby shamans.

Necronim grunted in amusement at the druid's outburst then saw Scy's hands fly out of the corner of his eye, making him chuckle. As Kalya gave him a confused look, he said softly, "Yes, Scy, she is rather annoyed. And with good reason since our dear 'Lady' attempted her interrogation tactics on me."

Scy snarled at that and he patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm fine."

Resden twitched, hacking, then held up a hand as Caren leaned towards him. "No more," he croaked. "I'm well enough to talk now, I think. And if you put another of those concoctions down my throat, I'll turn you into a sheep."

She smiled at that then turned towards Sylvanas, growling, "You may speak with him now."

The Banshee Queen sniffed then fixed her gaze on the mage, who was sagging in a chair. "What news from Varimathras?" she insisted.

Resden coughed then replied, "He found those of us that hadn't fallen – a mere handful of souls besides myself and Scy. We fought our way out of the city and managed to defend the flight tower until a zeppelin arrived by mistake. He ordered me us all to run up and board before the goblins fled at the sight of so many mad Forsaken and we ran like demons were on our heels. But…"

"But?" queried Sylvanas.

The mage winced, coughing again, then slumped further into his chair.

"A few managed to get past him. All the others but Scy and myself went down fighting them to make sure we got up to the zeppelin."

"And Varimathras?" asked Thrall.

"He said he would come when he could," replied Resden. "Whatever is going on won't affect him, he said, so he will stay there to see if he can discover what is going on."

Sylvanas nodded, frowning, then looked towards Scy, demanding, "Is this story true?"

Scy straightened up and looked desperately towards Necronim as her hands started to fly through intricate patterns. He followed them easily with his sharp eyes and translated, "It is true, milady. We were trapped and Varimathras saved us. At the tower we fought until we thought our limbs could break. And the men…they went down fighting their own as he said."

Thrall nodded then asked, "What of the tower?"

Scy's hands flew again and Necronim continued in his position as translator.

"Varimathras pulled it down himself as the goblin's drew the zeppelin away."

"If that is all," said Caren suddenly, "I would like permission to take Resden below to rest."

Thrall glanced towards Sylvanas, who looked ready to protest, but who the shrugged and hissed, "Do whatever you wish, druid."

"Thank you, milady," hissed the druid venomously. She then gently pulled Resden upright and helped him forward, softly asking, "May he go to your room here, Necronim?"

"I was about to suggest it myself," replied the rogue. He slid away from Scy and Kalya to take up the space on Resden's other side, earning a smile from his fellow Forsaken.

"Thank you," he rasped.

"Don't thank me yet, old boy," said Necronim. "We're far from being out of the woods yet."

"I'm aware." Resden then smiled and looked at him with eyes that didn't glow at all, something strange in a Forsaken. "Good to see you still with us, lad."

Necronim snorted then they were in the room, he carefully helping Caren lower the mage onto the bed. When he turned around, Kalya, Scy, Taemmur, and Kwaaku had all managed to crowd in and there was a white wolf that had taken up Gramun and Wrost's post at guarding the door.

"Scyllaine," he said softly, drawing Scy's attention to him. She smiled and her hands flew, causing Kalya to ask, "She's…she speaking in some strange language?"

"Signs," replied Necronim as he watched her hands. "Its hard to learn since she made it up herself but there are a few that have put forth the effort."

"What did she just say?" asked Kwaaku as he settled down on the floor.

The rogue scowled then moved to shut the door, carefully not to close the wolf's tail in it. He then turned back towards them as he leaned against it and drew in a heavy breath.

"She has an idea of someone we can go to to ask about this," he said slowly. "A mage she met briefly before the Scourge."

"Where?" asked Taemmur.

"You're not going, lad," hissed Necronim. "Neither are you, Caren."

The druid frowned at him where she sat on the edge of the bed and demanded, "And who are you to tell me what to do, Necronim?"

"Someone who knows that you're better needed here than tagging around with me. If I knew I could, it'd just be Scy and me going but…" His glowing eyes glanced towards Kwaaku and Kalya. "But I can't do that, now can I?"

"No," replied Kalya, smiling. "We're not about to let you get away with that unless you're going to the Undercity. Which it seems like you're not now."

"No, it doesn't. But this could be just as dangerous."

"We're coming with you," rumbled Kwaaku.

Necronim growled then spat, "Fine. We'll get gear and we'll go once I'm declared well enough. With the Warchief's blessing as well."

There was silence for a moment then Kalya asked, "Where are we going?"

Scy's bony fingers flew again and the rogue sighed, closing his eyes as he slumped further against the door.

"Azshara," he replied. "We'll be going to Azshara."

To note, "Child of the Horde" will not be continued until after this story is complete since it occurs in the years after this one as some may note by Taemmur being younger than when he leaves in CotH. Also there are a few events that occur here that the next chapter of CotH would spoil. Also the name Caren drops – Xavius – was a Night Elf from the War of the Ancients who became the first Satyr. Malfurion Stormrage gave a tree what it needed to grow itself from Xavius and such is the fate Caren is talking about sending Sylvanas to or at least doing her damnedest to.

Lok-narash: Arm yourselves (Orcish)