Fallen Children Book I: Legacy of Ruin

by Teano

Shortly after the events of the Cataclysm, the Night Elves of Kalimdor once again see their homeland threatened by ancient enemies and former allies alike. However, the Horde encroaching upon their lands too has old enemies of their own that have yet to re-emerge...

11. Parting Skies

"Already?" Llorrin wondered aloud, looking up at the crow's nest sceptically. He walked towards the bow of the ship to have a better look, Irewyth close on his heels. Men were rushing past him to get a better look themselves. A cacophony of cheers, the running of feet, exclamations of surprise and curses from men whose eyes weren't sharp enough to see the shores of Durotar spilled over the deck. Llorrin pushed through his men until he was standing at the very end of the bow.

In the distance, he could clearly see the red waste that was Durotar stretching out before him. He hadn't been this glad to see land in years. That he wasn't going to have to chart it was just a bonus.

Though the sight filled him with mixed feelings, he was even more glad to see the outlines of a small fortress rising up beyond the beach. It was probably still too far for any of the others to see, but he could clearly discern a damaged wall with many gaps in it and broken towers surrounding a small keep. The structure was damaged from both attacks and the flood that had wiped out his companions, and the walls had so many holes in them Llorrin wondered why the Horde hadn't finished tearing down the keep. Had the orcs gone soft? No, that was impossible.

As they slowly got closer and closer Llorrin managed to discern several white flags flying from the towers, walls and keep. The symbol on the flags was blue instead of golden, but Llorrin would have recognized the anchor emblem of Kul Tiras anywhere. Below the anchor emblem were three blue stars and in the upper left corner of the flag he saw the highly stylized 'L' of Lordaeron, which to Llorrin had always looked like it had a sword running through it from the top down.

The sight conjured a smile onto his face. There was no longer any doubt in his mind this was Tiragarde, and that it was still held by Alliance forces.

"We made it," he said to no one in particular. His smile died away when he realized this was the land the Horde had claimed as its own. The enemy could be closer than he thought.

"Alright, men, this is Horde territory, so I want to be prepared for anything," he said, raising his voice. "Everyone, to your battle stations!"

"Battle stations! Battle stations!" the call was repeated, and though some of the crewmembers looked agitated, they all obliged. Llorrin realized it would be quite a shock for those who had still believed Daelin to be alive to see different flags flying above the keep and finally be confronted with the truth, but he had trouble empathizing with them. This was the moment of his victory. The men shouldn't have doubted him, or Elduin for that matter, in the first place.

Irewyth was standing right next to him with a clever smile on her face, so he turned to face her.

"I don't really understand how we're here already," he told her. "It was supposed to be at least a few more days."

Irewyth shrugged, her eyes straying nonchalantly to the horizon. "Oh my. Maybe the mighty captain Llorrin isn't such a good navigator after all," she said, smiling complacently.

That stung. Since captain Adane had given him command of a ship he'd been trying to remember everything he'd been taught as a boy. Navigation was one of the main subjects in Kul Tiras military school, but he hadn't really expected to have to call on that knowledge again, so it had gone rusty. Llorrin took a copy of a nautical chart which Carekon had based on the maps Elduin had drawn for them from his pocket. He unfolded it quickly, turning around so Irewyth would be able to see it. She peered down at it, seemingly without much interest.

"Look, we started by sailing northeast, all the way here so we wouldn't get too close to Theramore," he explained, his finger following the course he'd set out in a wide curve around Theramore. "Then we sailed around here to avoid these isles-"

"The Echo Isles," Irewyth interrupted him, narrowing her eyes as she gave the map a closer look. "Now that I take a look at it… You're all idiots for not going straight to Theramore. Look how much trouble it would have saved us," Irewyth said, hitting the map lightly with the back of her hand as if the piece of parchment had anything to do with it. It would have saved them roughly a third of the journey, but that wasn't the main issue here.

"No," Llorrin said, shaking his head. "If we went to Theramore first, Jaina might not have let us leave again, and then we couldn't bring back word to Adane. Jaina is unlikely to pay a lot of attention to one ship, but she's not supposed to know about captain Adane's fleet, or she might try to take command of these forces or worse, consort with the Horde to thwart us. That's what she did last time."

Irewyth shrugged. "That ruin over there was held by the admiral's troops before that storm wiped them out, wasn't it? Jaina did nothing to stop them."

"She did nothing to help them either. Benedict's men were following direct orders from Admiral Proudmoore, so Jaina had no say over them. For us it's a different story. Once we've followed the admiral's last remaining orders..." He paused to accustom to the bitter taste in his mouth at what he was about to say. "We will fall under either Tandred or Jaina's command, lest we become renegades. Everyone knows the admiral would have wanted us to continue his crusade against the Horde, but all his orders said were that we'd have to retake the keep. Admiral Proudmoore's will doesn't bind us anymore now that he's dead."

Irewyth shrugged. "Jaina doesn't seem so bad to me, at the very least she's accomplished something here. She's an extremely talented mage, I know from my time in Dalaran. Grand Magus Antonidas himself used to confide in her."

Llorrin grimaced. "Don't tell me you were friends."

"Friends? No, not really, though we did talk on occasion," Irewyth said, smiling like she was proud to have known someone who had risen up to become one of the most prominent leaders of the Alliance.

Llorrin felt guilty for having to take her happy moment from her, but he knew he had to do away with this positive sentiment towards Jaina or risk losing Irewyth to her, and he believed he knew just the way.

"So you were both students at Dalaran around the same time... And now you're here on a ship no one knows about and she's the leader of pretty much all the humans on Kalimdor."

Irewyth scowled. Her eyes narrowed and he could feel the anger radiating off her like a chilling wind for several moments before she answered him.

"That's just mean. Notice you're on the same ship as I am. You think anyone knows you're here?"

Her icy anger was scary, more so because he knew she never forgot an insult, but the jealousy and frustration behind those stormy eyes was unmistakable. Llorrin didn't believe she was ever going to serve Jaina now, no matter how highly she thought of her. While she was part of this crew, Irewyth's talents were unique, which meant she was somebody. In Jaina's army, she'd only be one of possibly countless mages. Llorrin felt her pain though, because he felt the same. They were indeed stuck on the same boat. With a sigh, he decided to take the edge off his words.

"Look, I'm sorry. You know the orcs killed my parents, and I made a promise to Elduin to help save his people... and Jaina wants to have peace with the Horde. I just can't have that," he said, shaking his head. He finally managed to look her in the eye again. "And I don't want to lose you to her, either."

Irewyth stared at him. She seemed puzzled, but her anger seemed to slowly subside. When the silence grew too awkward she glanced down at the map.

"Theramore is our next stop, isn't it?" Irewyth asked, changing the subject.

Llorrin was beginning to expect Irewyth simply wanted to see a big city once again.

"Yes, but we should be okay. Adane realizes the danger of his men defecting to Jaina, so he gave me a selection of the most loyal men in all of the fleet," Llorrin said with a nod to his crew. "Most of these men are veterans who lost friends and family to the Horde in the Second War. Like Lieutenant Benedict's men before them, these men won't bow to Jaina. They'll never forgive the orcs, nor her when they find out she played a part in her father's death."

Irewyth chuckled. "You have your own personal army of little Jeredans. How cute."

"Don't mock them like that Irewyth," Llorrin tried to scold her, but he was unable to hold back a grin himself. "You should admire them for being so devoted."

"They're devoted enough to try and kill you when they even suspect you're disobeying orders, that's for sure," Irewyth said with a sarcastic little nod.

He turned his attention back to the map, because he had a feeling Irewyth was trying to weasel out of having to take back her comment about his navigational skills.

"As I was saying, once we passed the Echo Isles, we sailed straight for Tiragarde, like that. You can see there's nothing wrong with my navigation. We got to the right place, after all. We must have simply been going faster than I thought."

Irewyth brought her mouth close to his ear. Her hand lightly touched his shoulder.

"And why would that be? You thought I wasn't doing anything all this time did you?" she whispered, her breath tickling his skin. "Why do you think I was always this tired? It doesn't take a night elf to speed up a ship."

Llorrin folded the chart slowly as he let her words sink in. "Why didn't you just tell me what you were doing?" he sighed.

Irewyth shrugged. "I thought you liked surprises. You did look happy there for a moment when you heard we'd reached land."

She crossed her arms, turned and leaned back against the railing. She had that same stubborn expression on her face she had had back when she'd been trying to convince him to take her back to Adane. "You're supposed to thank me for helping you, not scold me."

"I'm beginning to think I should name this ship 'the Stuck-up Wench' instead of 'the Lady Irewyth'," Llorrin muttered under his breath, turning away from the bow.

"What?!" he heard Irewyth say behind his back, but he ignored her anger and focused on his 'officers', who had just finished gathering to hear his orders. Flynt, Eryck and Carekon were present. Even Jeredan had come over from his own ship to hear how they were going to proceed now they'd finally reached Tiragarde. Llorrin hadn't expected to reach the keep this soon, but that didn't mean he was unprepared. He'd been living towards this moment for what seemed like an eternity.

"Only a few of us are going on land," he announced without hesitation. Everyone but Carekon made a surprised face, but Llorrin simply continued. "We can't forget this is hostile territory. The orcs must be keeping an eye on this keep. What do you think they'll do when they see two crews of Kul Tiras marines embarking on their shores?"

"The same thing they did last time, most likely," Eryck smirked in a way that suggested he didn't mind the prospect of some orcs coming out to fight.

"We can't stay here for too long, or the orcs will surely become aware some of us are still alive, and that won't end well for us... Carekon, you're coming with me. Eryck, gather two men, you're coming too. Flynt, Jeredan, you command the ships while I'm out."

"Why so few?" Flynt asked.

"I don't want them to perceive us as a threat. They probably haven't seen Kul Tiras ships for years, for all we know they might think we've gone rogue. Most of all, I don't want any orcs to overtake our ships while we're gone, so keep everyone battle-ready," Llorrin told him. He didn't think Flynt liked his answer, but he was done with being questioned. After all, why was Flynt complaining? He wasn't going to have to stick his neck out. As expected, Irewyth had her complaints too.

"Why aren't you taking me with you?" she asked softly as everyone went about their business and Jeredan returned to his ship.

"I need you to keep an eye on the ship, of course," Llorrin said softly. "Above all, keep an eye on him." His eyes went to Jeredan's back briefly. Irewyth nodded. The best time for Jeredan to try anything would be while Llorrin and Carekon were gone, and it was suspicious in itself that he hadn't complained about being left behind.

They brought the ships as close to the shore as they could without having to fear running aground and then let a rowing boat into the water, the two marines Eryck had picked rowing feverishly to get them to the keep. Llorrin stood at the front of the boat, his eyes on the shore, where a group of marines in white tabards and silver armour were already forming a welcoming party. The anchor sigils they bore were golden, as opposed to their flags, and also lacking the Lordaeron symbol or the stars found on the banners.

He could only hope Jaina's men would still welcome them as friends. At the very least, their visit was going to be unexpected. Footmen dressed similarly to those on the beach moved around the keep like ants guarding a hive. He tried not to worry, reasoning the garrison was in a constant state of high alert because they lived so close to the orcs.

He wished at least a few of Benedict's men had survived, but he didn't see any Kul Tiras uniforms anywhere. Now, his dark green attire was sure to make him look and feel like an outsider. Llorrin couldn't help but wonder why Jaina would've changed her family colours. Not for the first time wondered what could have caused such a storm of cataclysmic proportions. Even the water didn't look, or feel right, when he looked at it. He shook off the thought and set his eyes on the biggest flag, the one adorning the keep, and wondered what the stars referred to, and why she'd gotten rid of all the green…

"Jaina led everyone who wanted to flee from the Scourge to Kalimdor. Thus her forces were made up from people from all over the Seven Kingdoms, not just the men she took with her from Kul Tiras. She must've wanted to give homage to her own origins, without making it seem like she was simply assimilating everyone into her Kul Tiras forces. She has certainly built up a magnificent empire here in a short while," Carekon said.

Llorrin looked at the ruin. The broken walls, the collapsed towers. "Yes, magnificent," he said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The boat hit the beach. Eryck helped Carekon out. They trudged through the sand, towards the group of Theramore marines that awaited them. As they got closer their armour no longer seemed as shiny as it had from a distance. Their vambraces, shinguards and shoulder guards had been forged magnificently in the shape of scales, but the metal had become dark, dull and scratched. Dried up blood stained their tabards, which were usually either torn or sewn up. Hollow-eyed and weary as these men were, Llorrin realized he shouldn't have been as wary of them as he had been. A fight seemed to be the last thing on their minds.

A tall, rugged man who stood at the front was the exception. He carried a finely crafted shield on his back and light radiated hungrily off the scabbard in which his sword was held, like it was trying to break free of its bonds. He had short brown hair and a square jaw, and wore an eyepatch over his right eye. Fierce as he looked, Llorrin felt like he'd already built up a sense of understanding with the man before he'd even reached him.

"Hey, that guy kind of looks like you," Eryck sniggered.

The man Llorrin assumed to be in command didn't look like him at all, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what Eryck was referring to.

"Not now, Eryck," Llorrin warned him. They were almost close enough to the marines to speak to them and the last thing he wanted was for his bodyguard's crass sense of humour (if one could call it that) to make them look like fools.

"Greetings," Llorrin said, stopping close enough to them to talk, but still out of reach of their blades. If he couldn't even trust his own men, he reasoned he couldn't trust anyone. "I am captain Llorrin Stormstrider of the Kul Tiras expeditionary fleet and these are my companions Carekon Yendar and Eryck Aubrey. We've-"

"Kul Tiras marines, hm?" the tall man observed critically, interrupting him. "I am Lieutenant Palliter, acting commander of Tiragarde Keep." He crossed his arms. "We haven't seen your like in some time. In fact, we believed you were all dead. "

"Are you here to reinforce us?" a man with sunken cheeks and a bloodied bandage around his head asked.

The hopelessness in the marine's voice hit a sore note with Llorrin. Only now that he had to actually speak the words did he realize how hard it was, how he hadn't digested the truth as well as he thought he had.

"We had orders… to take back this keep in case harm befell our admiral… Daelin Proudmoore… and Lieutenant Benedict, who previously commanded this keep," he said, cursing himself inwardly and swearing to himself he wasn't going to choke up. He looked over the ruins as an excuse to break eye contact. "And it would seem that's exactly what happened," he said softly, his voice but a whisper.

"Tiragarde belongs to Northwatch now," the tall man stated bluntly.

Northwatch? Llorrin thought. Then he remembered the map Elduin had drawn. He'd indeed indicated there was a fortress North of Theramore. He really should've paid more attention to it so he could be sure, but he reasoned that fortress must have been Northwatch.

Carekon stepped forward, laying a hand on Llorrin's shoulder briefly before moving past him. Even though he didn't bear their colours, it was easy for the Theramore marines to recognize a man of the faith.

"We aren't here to wrestle control of the keep from you, our orders were formulated under the assumption that we would find the Horde, and not allies occupying this keep after harm had befallen those who came before us," the chaplain said calmly.

"Yes, we should actually congratulate you men for keeping Tiragarde in such great shape," Eryck chimed in, looking over the crumbling ruins.

Palliter gave Eryck a look that would have turned milk sour, but otherwise let it slip.

"Well, it wasn't the Horde that wiped out your comrades… If they were indeed your comrades," the lieutenant said.

"You doubt our word?" Llorrin asked, his temper rising. He'd thought all of his troubles would be over once he reached Tiragarde, but now that he was finally here even this 'Lieutenant Palliter' was questioning him, seemingly thinking he was some sort of rogue.

"Your word, and your intentions," Palliter acknowledged. "I can clearly see you're from Kul Tiras, but you appear out of nowhere, after all of your companions are long dead and buried, what else is that supposed to make me think?"

"We haven't gone rogue, we were following orders," Llorrin said, his frustration visibly rising. Carekon motioned for him to stay quiet. He initially didn't want to back down, but then he realized he was in danger of revealing too much if he spoke of their mission. These men were unlikely to share the same attitude towards orcs as Jaina, but they still served her, and they would be sure to inform her there were more of her father's ships at large if they found out about it, which was something they absolutely had to avoid.

Nevertheless he didn't want to back down. If he was going to lead properly, he couldn't hide behind Carekon forever. Llorrin knew Carekon wouldn't approve of it if he lied, but he figured there was no need for him to lie. He could always… bend the truth a little.

"We belonged to Lieutenant Alverold's fleet, one of Admiral Proudmoore's left hand men. Our orders were to chart Kalimdor, but return and continue the work of our companions if they should fall. We lost many men along the way and there's not near enough of us left to fulfill our admiral's crusade against the Horde, but we are still here," he said, the words still ringing in his head. 'But should any misfortune befall myself or Benedict, Alverold's troops will retake the Keep...'

An older marine with long grey hair stepped forward. He was slightly hunched forward but he had a large mace on his back which only a strong man could wield. "Did you say Alverold? Sir, I think we can trust him. Do you recall how we found only one survivor? He kept uttering that name until he died. Alverold… Alverold must know. I always wondered what he meant by it."

Lieutenant Palliter's eyes narrowed. "Where is this Alverold?"

"Lost at sea, to the same storm that seems to have wiped out our comrades on this shore," Llorrin said without hesitation.

"Not just a storm," the hollow-eyed marine said, reaching up to the bloody part of his head as if his wound suddenly stung again. "The Shattering," he uttered.

The older marine smirked. "There is more amiss with the world than you boys seem to be aware of."

"You try spending a third of your life at sea and keep up to date on everything," Eryck retorted. Despite his sometimes crass humour, he usually wasn't too amused when someone was laughing at his expense.

"If you're so oblivious to everything else… How did you know what happened to your companions?" Palliter asked.

"We caught an orc in the desert of Tanaris, he mocked us with the death of our admiral before he perished," Llorrin said, conveniently leaving out the part where the warlock had tied them all up in his web of magic and been mere minutes away from sacrificing them to the demonic voice that had come from deep within the dancing flames.

"So you took his word for it?"

"I did," Llorrin said. The lieutenant didn't have to know about Elduin. "There has been some… controversy among my crew on whether we could really return here based on a rumour like that, but it seems to have turned out to be true, or I'd be talking to Lieutenant Benedict now instead of you. I was hoping you men could give us some closure, and bring us up to date on recent events."

"You can see for yourself there's none of you left here. The first wave was wiped out by the Horde at Tidefury Cove. Your admiral retreated but soon after perished with the others within the walls of Theramore. Well, maybe not all of them," Palliter said, confirming Llorrin's view of him as a no nonsense, straight to the point kind of guy. After all the backstabbing and deceit, he somehow felt grateful for it, even though that was probably not Palliter's intention.

"It's seems strange to me that you haven't stopped by Theramore to get the information you need though…" the lieutenant said.

"What's Theramore?" Eryck asked, playing the fool, and for once Llorrin was actually grateful he'd opened his mouth.

Lieutenant Palliter frowned. "It's the great city Lady Jaina founded after her victory against the Burning Legion. You should have passed by it on your way here."

"We didn't even know it existed, and the closer we sailed to the coast, the more orc ships we encountered. We thought it wiser to sail around… As a result, we simply must have missed it," Llorrin shrugged. "Besides, our orders told us to retake this keep, it said nothing about Theramore."

"Scouts do say they're spotting more and more orc ships patrolling the coasts," the old marine added his two coppers.

The lieutenant eyed him for a brief moment. It looked like he was buying it.

"Perhaps we could discuss this inside?" Carekon asked.

An uneasy silence reigned for a short while.

"Very well. The Horde has eyes and ears everywhere, we probably shouldn't be standing here," Palliter said, his eyes shifting left and right like he was expecting a spy to pop up out of the sand at any moment. Without a further comment he turned and started walking in the direction of the keep.

"Does 'everywhere' include that keep? If it does going there would seem quite pointless," Eryck quipped, but no one seemed to really pay attention to him. Thankfully, Llorrin thought.

They followed the lieutenant and his men, passing by more tired-looking marines who didn't seem sure what to think. All in all, it seemed like the lieutenant had no more than two hundred men in here, not exactly great numbers against the Horde.

As they got closer to the keep Eryck suddenly came up beside him.

"Stormstrider? Did you come up with that yourself?" he asked him.

Llorrin was quite touchy about the subject, but he figured even if he showed it Eryck wasn't going to pick up on the subtle hints. "No, it's just my name," he said, his heartbeat rising.

"But… You said you never knew who your parents were… And Adane's family name is-"

"Everyone needs a name, Eryck. It's bad enough that I lost my parents, should I have lost my right to a name along with them?"

"Right. I figure you'll need one to give to your kids when you and Irewyth have children," Eryck grinned.

Llorrin ignored that. "Captain Adane named me. He didn't want to give me his name, because that would make it sound like I'm an illegitimate son of his instead of… an adopted orphan. Which is much better, of course," he said sarcastically.

"Hmm, he could've come up with something less elf-like," Eryck muttered. The remark didn't come as a surprise. A true son of Kul Tiras, he hadn't truly ever left the island and had thus known little else than humans outside his life, which seemed to have led to a sense of distrust for everything different.

Llorrin decided to give Eryck a piece of his own medicine. "I don't know if it's such a big deal, after all Quel'Thalas and Kul Tiras doesn't sound all that different," he said with a forced smile. For what it was worth, he'd always liked his name. It was like it was meant to encourage him to do what he'd always meant to do, braving the storms… both the real as the figurative ones. Nevertheless he'd mostly kept the name to himself, as some form of protest against the murder of his parents. His real name was somewhere out there, after all, and despite his lack of knowledge about what it was, it was who he was. Perhaps he'd heard it a thousand times before already without knowing it.

Llorrin had thought he had a chance of finding out his real name one day in some other way, but that hope was all but buried by now. Elduin's promise to try and reach out to the spirits of his ancestors if he took him to the remains of his village still rang in his mind, as did the sound of the gunshot that had sent the druid falling down, and the splash of his body hitting the water, moments before the ocean had closed over him and the countless Naga had dived after him...

It remained a mystery to him to this day what the Naga had wanted with Elduin, but the bottom line of the story was, he was dead, and that was all that really mattered. Still, Elduin clearly hadn't lied, and he was neither a coward nor a weakling, so Llorrin concluded he must have known that the Naga were after him, and perhaps been trying to protect him by leaving… Like his name, it was another thing Llorrin would never ever find out about, all thanks to no more than one bullet from a rifle.

Chuth, if it was you who fired that shot, you deserve all the torment Irewyth put you through, and more, Llorrin thought bitterly.

He snapped out of his thoughts as they reached the doorway into the keep, slowing down so he wouldn't cut off Carekon's path. Palliter led them up to the top floor of the keep where he resided, to a large open room with a sturdy table in the middle. A few marines who's armour shone brighter than any of the other soldiers he'd seen outside were guarding the room, and they saluted as soon as Lieutenant Palliter entered, but they gazed upon the newcomers with wonder as much as anyone else.

Suits of armour, one in every corner, watched over the war room like silent metal guardians, but other than that the room was almost entirely undecorated. Llorrin felt the hot breeze entering through gaps in the wall as he entered. Durotar had a hot climate and the sun hadn't yet gone under, so the torches and the hearth weren't lighted. Lieutenant Palliter sat down as they were all gathered around the table, and motioned for the others to do the same. The chair felt like it was going back and forth as he sat down on it, a result from spending too much time aboard a rocking ship.

"Get these men something to drink, they will need it," Palliter told his guardsmen. He sighed as he looked at them. "And so will I."

Did I miss something? Llorrin wondered. Palliter had suddenly gone from being distrusting to serving them beer and acting compassionately. Llorrin was beginning to suspect he wanted something of them. They were served a thick brown ale, but Llorrin barely noticed it being put in front of him. Though he was apprehensive towards what he was about to hear, he couldn't have been any more interested as the lieutenant started filling them in on all they had missed. Even though Palliter was a very factual, almost tedious speaker, his attention didn't wane. The beer remained untouched for a long time, until Eryck suddenly reached for it and Llorrin lifted it from the table to keep it out of his reach. He then took a big gulp as if to indicate he wasn't going to let his bodyguard snatch it away. Palliter had been right: he did need it. By the time the lieutenant was done the torches and the hearth had been lit, for outside night was falling and the temperature was decreasing dramatically.

As Palliter finished filling them in on the major goings on in Azeroth Llorrin wasn't sure if it was solely the change in temperature that had made him feel so cold. He sat in almost complete silence, digesting what he had just heard. Apparently in the time they'd been gone from the world, the Alliance and the Horde had gone through periods of conflict, uneasy peace and evencooperation.

Elduin had already told him about the Battle of Mount Hyal where the Horde and the Alliance had allied with the Night Elves to defeat the Burning Legion, who were the engineers of the Scourge that had destroyed Lordaeron. Nevertheless, the story still amazed him. He was glad the demons who had engineered the Scourge had been defeated, but that didn't mean all the damage they had caused had suddenly been reverted, and nor was the Scourge gone from the world…

Illidan, a Night Elf who Llorrin remembered had been mentioned by Elduin had rallied Naga and Blood Elf followers in an attempt to destroy the Lich King, but they had failed, and Arthas, the prince who had delivered Lordaeron to the Scourge, had become one with his master. Meanwhile undead who called themselves the Forsaken had wrestled control of the Lich King and had finally allied to the Horde, something Llorrin could barely fathom. Orcs were bad enough as they were, but at least they were alive. He'd thought it to be at least be above them to align themselves with defeated warriors and tormented souls, but it appeared he'd thought too much of them still.

Lieutenant Palliter spoke in some length about Admiral Proudmoore's's attempted invasion of Durotar, rightly assuming that's the part that would interest them most. Apparently Proudmoore had been just about ready to deploy his forces against the Horde when a warrior who fought with a fierceness unlike any even Daelin's most experienced warriors had ever witnessed had appeared bearing an enchanted banner, rallying unexpected numbers of troll, orc, tauren and even ogre reinforcements behind them. Together with the rest of the Horde, they had laid waste to Admiral Proudmoore's forces. The remnants of Admiral Proudmoore's fleet had retreated and fought tooth and nail to defend Theramore, but after the elusive, fierce warrior had broken through the lines and slain Admiral Proudmoore the defenders had put their weapons down and the Horde had left.

Largely because of the tensions caused by this invasion, the peace hadn't been a true peace, and uneasy at best, but all-out conflict had been avoided. When the Burning Legion had reopened the Dark Portal that had once spewed the orcs into the world the Alliance and Horde had even rallied against them again and pursued them to Draenor, the homeworld of the orcs, now a ruined planet known as Outland. Llorrin had truly thought Palliter had been pulling his leg when he said they'd found remnants of the original Alliance Expedition in Draenor, including Danath Trollbane and the legendary archmage Khadgar, both of them alive and well.

The Legion had been set back once again, but Illidan was still the ruler of Outland, and he hadn't taken kindly to the newcomers on his soil. After the Legion had been dealt with, efforts from both the Horde and the Alliance had finally brought about Illidan's downfall, however. Llorrin was shocked to hear almost the entire high elf race had gone mad: some of them had served Illidan, others still had joined the Horde or followed their own path, but the bottom line was that most had abandoned the Alliance. He wondered who could have possibly been stupid enough to let something like that happen, but was too appalled to really want to hear more about it.

Equally bad news perhaps was that the Horde had returned from Draenor with fresh allies: the Magh'ar, a race of uncorrupted orcs led by the current warchief Garrosh Hellscream.

Meanwhile, in the southern Kingdom of Stormwind King Varian Wrynn had finally seized his throne again after he'd been missing for a long time. Elduin had spoken of him as a beastman who was far too lenient and trusting towards the Horde. Palliter spoke of him with far more respect, but what he said did come down to the same things the druid had told him: Varian had tried to negotiate a lasting, more stable truce with the Horde, and failed.

In the wake of these failed negotiations a new invasion by Arthas, or the Lich King (Palliter didn't seem certain what to call him since the two of them had apparently become one) had forced the Alliance and the Horde to join forces and invade Northrend, the home of the undead Scourge. Llorrin didn't understand this. Undead or not, Ner'zhul was an orc, and the Alliance should have simply left the Horde to clean up their own mess, and tended to reclaiming the Seven Kingdoms for the Alliance and ridding it of its curse. The undead could freeze their mangled limbs off in the frozen wastes of Northrend for all of eternity for all he cared.

It wasn't a complete shock to him that during the campaign against Arthas a faction within the 'Forsaken' had betrayed both the Alliance and the Horde by raining death on them during one of the decisive battles of the conflict. Maybe Jeredan was right. Their commanders did get them killed, trusting the undead, any undead, Llorrin thought.

At least Varian had grown a spine after he'd seen the fate the Forsaken had long been preparing for them all in the form of some New Plague Palliter didn't want to elaborate on and Llorrin didn't even want to think about, and declared war on the Horde afterwards. Llorrin thought it was only right. Varian shared responsibility for what the Forsaken had done to his men, but it was the Horde who had embraced the Forsaken into their ranks in the first place, they should have kept a closer eye on such untrustworthy allies.

Tirion Fordring, a legendary paladin of the Silver Hand whom Llorrin remembered all too well from his history lessons had led the final assault against Arthas and defeated him. Llorrin had barely believed it possible that justice had finally been served. Arthas had let his zeal consume him and cloud his judgement, sending millions to their graves and beyond. If anyone deserved death it would have been him. Rather than stamping them out however, a paladin by the name of Bolvar Fordragon had taken Arthas' place as the ruler of the undead, to keep the Scourge pacified.

Llorrin was confused. Surely they had to see that Bolvar's spirit would crumble one day, like Arthas' had? He was beginning to have serious doubts about the Horde and Alliance leadership. These… Forsaken were still controlling vast majorities of the Seven Kingdoms, and were apparently attacking Gilneas, and no one was acting against them. What else did their undead state and their disdain for the living make the Forsaken if not the continuation of the Scourge? It almost made Bolvar's sacrifice seem in vain.

Two orders split from the Knights of the Silver Hand, the Argent Dawn and the Scarlet Crusade, were still fighting to free the land of the undead, though the latter had somehow managed to make both Alliance and Horde their enemies and was all but destroyed. Factions of these orders had also gone to Northrend to fight Arthas, but Palliter couldn't tell for sure whether they were going to stay there to keep any new undead uprising from happening or going back to cure the Plaguelands. Palliter did believe the Scarlet Onslaught – the portion of the Scarlet Crusade that had sailed to Northrend – was all but done for due to combined Horde and Alliance efforts. Humans fighting humans? Madness, Llorrin had thought when he first heard it.

Palliter had explained everyone was distracted by the elemental upheaval the return of Deathwing to the world had wrought, something Llorrin understood had been the cause for the great storm at sea that had nearly drowned them all. So that damn dragon is responsible for all of my companion's deaths, Llorrin thought, clenching his fist. It filled his heart with rage, but what could he possibly do? According to Palliter Deathwing's return was threatening the very fate of the world, but while it did concern him, Llorrin felt it all went over his head. Sometimes he felt like he was in way over his head already. Warchief Thrall had left to stop Deathwing and left Garrosh Hellscream in command in his stead, and Llorrin was sure there'd be others who would take up the sword against the ancient dragon as well. This wasn't his fight to fight, nor was he in any sort of position to make a worthy contribution even if he tried. He had other ghosts to avenge.

This wretched world may well deserve to be destroyed, he thought grimly as he thought about all the horrible things that had gone down while he'd been charting Kalimdor, but then he thought of his home, and all the people who had lost theirs. There'd been no reports of Kul Tiras being destroyed, and that was what mattered to Llorrin most. Warchief Garrosh had ordered the Forsaken to invade Gilneas however, what would it take him to order the same fate upon Kul Tiras? His heartbeat rose. Not a lot, he realized. They were going to have to give the new Warchief something else to worry about.

Llorrin looked up at Lieutenant Palliter with sudden determination.

"Thank you for the information. We know now what we must do."

"And what is that?" Palliter asked.

"It would seem there's little else left for us to do than go to Theramore and present ourselves to Jaina," Llorrin shrugged. This lieutenant didn't need to know his true intentions, or the news would speed to Theramore faster than an arrow from an elven bow.

"Hmm." Palliter rubbed his chin slowly. He seemed disappointed in a way, like he'd have rather have seen Llorrin's forces stay with him to defend the keep or perhaps even rid him of the lethal burden of having to occupy it. "I doubt Jaina will concern herself with your paltry force. You'll probably be turned into the city watch, forced to guard docks and patrol alleyways, far away from the real battle we of the Northwatch Expedition are waging. Is that truly what you want?" Palliter said bluntly.

He's hoping I'll say no, I can see it in his eyes. He wants help, he wants everyone to take up the sword against the Horde, but he doesn't want to speak ill of Jaina either, Llorrin realized.

"It's not about what we want, it's about what we have to do," he said, painfully aware of Carekon's gaze. He was no doubt giving Palliter a very different idea about what he thought he had to do, but it wasn't Llorrin's fault if the lieutenant drew the wrong assumptions.

"Hrm, I suppose it is different for you men. I'm originally from Stromgarde myself, as are many of the soldiers I have here with me. We followed Lady Jaina to this continent and couldn't be more grateful to her for leading us away from the Scourge and helping us overcome the Legion, but that doesn't mean we're her subjects. We know what's good for us, and standing by while the orcs claim more and more lands and grow ever stronger is not it. Do as you must, I doubt your mighty two-ship armada is going to make all the difference in the long run."

Oh, how little you know… Llorrin mused, not all too irked by the insult.

"Our orders were to retake Tiragarde, but for now we'll be content that it's being held by allied forces. We intend to leave for Theramore as soon as we can, but our journey has left us without much food or water to spare. You wouldn't happen to be able to part with any of your supplies?"

"It's not supplies we have shortage of, it's men," Palliter sighed. "If you job here is done, why don't you men simply return to Kul Tiras? No one would think less of you for it."

Llorrin knew the question shouldn't have caught him off guard as it did. The skin below his eye patch itched. I can't tell him the real reason, he reminded himself.

"I doubt that," he said. "We've seen enough of the sea for quite some time." At least that wasn't a lie. "Admiral Proudmoore found nothing but legions of undead and demons when he searched Lordaeron, and very little survivors. He realized the future of the Alliance lies on this continent, and we mean to stay here to make the contribution to the Alliance we failed to make while Lordaeron was being ravaged by the Scourge. Besides, we need to restock somewhere, and Theramore is the closest possible place. Our ships are damaged, our weapons old and rusted, and we're almost out of gunpowder. Even if we wanted to, sailing back to Kul Tiras would be too risky."

"I could part with enough food and water to get you back to Theramore… but that doesn't mean you'll get it for free," Palliter said.

"You'll want something in return, of course," Llorrin said, wondering what exactly he had to offer. Then it hit him. "We took an orc prisoner at sea, a captain named Gronbag. He's a veteran of the Bleeding Hollow Clan. Surely you'll be able to sell him to the Horde or use him as a hostage, whichever you prefer."

Llorrin wasn't sure how he felt about selling Gronbag like he was a bag of grain, but there was nothing else left for him to do with him, and simply keeping him on board wasn't an option either. Jeredan would no doubt have his own 'solution' to the problem, but that was actually even more reason to sell him off.

Lieutenant Palliter considered his offer. "Hmm, such a hostage could indeed be useful. The orcs captured a number of my men while they were out on a patrol, perhaps if I have someone to trade with them I'll be able to get them back."

"We have ourselves a deal, then," Llorrin smiled, content with how he had resolved the situation. Gronbag would be free, and at least wouldn't have to be killed in some dishonourable fashion. It was one thing to kill an enemy in battle, but to coldly execute them…

"If I may, lieutenant," Carekon, who had been silent since Palliter had first started telling them about the past, suddenly said. "If Jaina is opposed to all out war, why did she send you here to reclaim this keep, which is built on Horde territory as far as I can tell?"

"Horde territory? That's a good one," the lieutenant snickered. "If the centaur cared to speak, they'd tell us it was theirs, and the tauren would've claimed the same thing before them, and I'm sure the quilboars would want to have a say about it as well, same as the harpies. When the Alliance and the Horde first arrived here, this entire continent was an uncivilized wilderness. We all drew our own borders, and fought for every inch of ground. In Kalimdor, you only own what you can hold on to. Jaina may desire peace, but that doesn't mean we have to give up our territories to the Horde. The orcs never occupied or tore down this keep, thus it rightfully belongs to the Alliance. We came here from Northwatch Hold to check for survivors shortly after the Shattering . When we saw that your companions were all dead, we occupied the keep. We did all that of our own accord. Bar the odd supply ship from Northwatch Hold, we haven't received any support however, not one soldier has been sent from Theramore to help us. We may all die before the year is out, but at least it won't have been without purpose."

"Purpose?" Llorrin repeated, puzzled. "What is the value of this location anyway? Why risk your lives to hold on to a ruin?" A broken keep at the edge of the sea, surrounded by orc territory on the one hand and a sea that was becoming more and more infested with orcish warships on a daily basis didn't exactly seem like something worth wasting two hundred men's lives over to him.

"Your admiral knew the value of this location," Palliter said with a look like he couldn't believe Llorrin was actually asking something like that. "It is easy to deploy an army on these shores, especially when you have a friendly keep controlling the area, and mark my words, the day will come when the Alliance will have to take such steps. Advancing from this position means your forces could attack in any direction and effectively cut Durotar, and thus the Horde's forces, in two. If the orcs set up a bastion here to replace ours, well… You may have a harder time getting off your ships."

Llorrin felt his face turn red a little. To have overlooked such obvious strategic elements was simply unacceptable. The orcs seemed to be making the same mistake, but that didn't really make it any better.

Palliter got up. "Now, I suppose you'll be wanting to leave as soon as possible. My men won't like it, but we could still get this exchange done. If we use the cover of night, the orcs will be less likely to see us supplying your ships. Take me to this prisoner, so I can see him for myself and decide how much I can give you for him. If he's at the point of death already, he won't serve me well as a hostage."

"I can assure you, he's-" Llorrin started as he was getting up from the table, but Carekon interrupted him.

"Actually, I believe we can wait until tomorrow."

Llorrin frowned, displeased with how after Chuth, Jeredan and Irewyth Carekon was now also openly opposing his judgement. "How so?" he asked the chaplain. "We have very little time to waste."

"Think about it. Your crew has been looking forward to this moment for weeks, and you'd keep it all to yourself," Carekon said with an unusual hardness to his voice, which was subtle, but no less intimidating for it. "It's already very late. The men are tired and will want to hear what has happened in the world with their own ears. They are probably waiting for news about Kul Tiras this very moment. Let them spend the night here, and perhaps enjoy some of Lieutenant Palliter's fine ale."

"That shouldn't be so bad," Palliter reasoned. "Morale is pretty low, tales of your heroic journey might raise my men's spirits a little ," he chuckled.

Jeredan is going to love this guy, Llorrin thought, ignoring the jab. He mulled over Carekon's words. This was risky. One word in the wrong ear and Palliter's marines would know of Captain Adane's fleet's existence, and then Jaina would soon know, too. Nevertheless Carekon's words did make sense, and if he refused without a proper excuse it wouldn't be difficult for Palliter to figure out he was trying to hide something.

"Very well, we can stay the night, but come the morrow, we're sailing out of here. I'll go tell the men personally," Llorrin said.Perhaps then they'll be more thankful to me for it.

"Fine then, I'll inform my men as well, and dispatch a message to Theramore," Palliter said. He grinned. "It's a good thing you came here first. The cannoneers of Theramore and Northwatch Hold both will fire upon any ships that approach the city unannounced. I heard they even sunk some poor merchant's vessel. We wouldn't want anything like that happening to you, now would we?"

"Hmm," Llorrin murmured. He was very worried about his men running their mouth off, and aware he shouldn't be showing it.

Carekon had been right. The crew was elated to hear they'd be going on land. It took a while to get them to be quiet, because they had a thousand questions for him, but Llorrin was finally able to quiet them down enough to remind them they shouldn't speak of the remainder of their fleet to anyone. Irewyth promised to give everyone who didn't follow that order an even more painful fate than a certain boy who had once played a prank on her while she was still a student in Dalaran. She left everything else to the imagination, but her glare and voice made it so even those with little imagination would know better than to cross her.

Llorrin had been a little bit more diplomatic. Instead of threatening the men with physical violence, he'd explained the consequences of what could happen if Jaina were to become aware of Adane's fleet, and luckily they seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.

In the end, Llorrin was actually happy he'd gone with Carekon's decision. As he looked over his men sitting by the fires, exchanging stories with the Tiragarde marines, he realized he hadn't ever seen them this relaxed, which was quite ironic because they were on orc territory. Llorrin knew they'd better not relax too much. He'd ordered the sails to be rolled up so it wouldn't be as easy to recognize their frigates as Kul Tiras war ships and left Flynt on board in command of a strong watch. The men who'd been picked for this job were again unfortunate, but some of Lieutenant Palliter's men had gone to the ships as well to meet them, so no one would be left in the dark.

Deciding he should make up for the missed opportunity back when Bors had challenged him to a drinking contest, Llorrin went to sit among the men and talk to as many of them as he could. Some openly admitted they had doubted him and apologized for it, which meant more to Llorrin than they'd ever realize. When he went looking for Irewyth, his eye suddenly fell on Eryck, who was sitting by a fire with his face buried in his hands. Llorrin hadn't ever seen him so downtrodden before.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting down next to him.

Eryck didn't answer that immediately. Just as Llorrin had begun to consider the beer may have gotten to his bodyguard, Eryck spoke up. "I can't believe I missed out on all of those things Palliter told us about. I could've been a hero by now."

"Or you could've been dead," Llorrin shrugged. He felt the same way Eryck did, but he wasn't going to be so open about it, nor let it get him down. He had a feeling there were going to be plenty of challenges along the way, perhaps even more than they would like.

"Palliter couldn't believe his eyes when he saw how well Gronbag was doing," Llorrin said, quickly changing the subject on purpose. "Why would he think so lowly of us?"

Eryck looked up. "Haven't you ever heard the stories? Our people did things to the orcs they caught, and it wasn't ever anything nice."

"Like leaving them to drown?" Llorrin asked.

"Worse."

Llorrin's stomach twisted. Rumours were just rumours. He didn't have to believe them, nor did they matter in the bigger scheme of things. They discussed what the boy Irewyth had referred to could have possibly done to irk her, and quickly concluded that it probably hadn't taken that much to rile her anger. They didn't try to think about what she had put him through. He asked Eryck whether he knew where Irewyth was, but he claimed he hadn't seen her, so Llorrin reasoned she must have returned to the boats. When Eryck tried to voice his own thoughts on what Irewyth was doing Llorrin didn't even let him finish.

A while later Palliter came and invited him to his keep. It was an offer he couldn't refuse without insulting the lieutenant, so Llorrin followed him away from his men. They talked about warfare, the Horde, Admiral Proudmoore, Jaina and their home countries for the better part of an hour before Llorrin excused himself and went outside to sleep. He took off his scabbard and the bracers he'd taken from Gronbag to have a little bit more comfort, but kept his cutlass close and everything else on, knowing it could get cold at night, but mostly in order to be prepared for an orc attack.

He slept outside, among the ruined walls of the keep, along with the rest of his men. Surely no assassin would be brazen enough to try and kill him here, but he still didn't sleep well. That night, Llorrin dreamed his men set sail without him, and as he stood at the edge of the beach, shouting for them to come back, he saw Irewyth's corpse swinging from the yardarm. He awoke with a shock, noticing the sun had already slowly begun to rise. At first he thought the dream must have awakened him, but then the fog lifted from his mind and he realized he was hearing shouts.

"Get him! Stop him! Shoot him!"

Oh no, Llorrin thought, throwing his blanket off of him as he jumped up. The guards stationed on the walls had all ran down, and through the nearest breach in the wall he could see the sea, where a rowing boat was fruitlessly pursuing a swimmer headed towards the shore. He was obscured by the water splashing all around him, but it only took Llorrin a moment to see who it was.Gronbag! But how?! he thought, clenching his fist. Gunshots filled the air, but none hit Gronbag. His powerful strokes carried him to the shore quickly, and as he reached land he only seemed to be going faster.

Llorrin reached down to pick his cutlass up from the ground and without pause sped forward, noticing how the guards on top of the walls had all run down. He had to watch out not to trip over the many men sleeping in the courtyard, who'd all begun to stir. He had to slow down to dodge past Bors, who rose up in front of him like a mountain, a very drowsy one at that. The walls pulled Gronbag from sight as the orc tried to speed past the keep. Llorrin cut right, hoping he'd be fast enough to cut him off. Outside he could hear men chasing Gronbag, and the sound of steel on steel.

He felt his heart thumping in his chest. No matter how he'd done it, Gronbag had escaped, and if he let the Theramore marines catch him he didn't doubt Palliter would say Gronbag was now their prisoner and demand something else of them. Hell, Llorrin wouldn't even be able to say he was wrong. It could even turn out worse. If they killed Gronbag…

"Hold your fire! Hold it!" Llorrin shouted to a couple of riflemen who had sped up to the walls. He was faster than the marines in their heavy armour and left everyone who'd gotten up trailing behind as he sped out of the keep. He discovered Gronbag, who was a ways off the shore, but not so far Llorrin wouldn't be able to catch him. That said, catching him wouldn't be easy. Gronbag had a sword. The cutlass he had clenched in his fist seemed too small a weapon for a warrior his size, but was nevertheless stained with blood. Two marines were lying dead in the sand behind them, but more were moving to cut him off.

Gronbag practically sent a marine that tried to stop him with his shield flying by bashing into him with his shoulder, and cut down another with a savage blow as he ran on. They had slowed him down enough for three more marines to line up and cut off his path however. These were the guards who had been keeping watch at night, and thankfully had been able to react faster than anyone else.

By the time Llorrin reached Gronbag the Tiragarde marines had the orc surrounded, and more of them were streaming out of the keep. The marines worked as a unit, trying to blindside their opponent, and backing down out of reach of the bloodied cutlass once Gronbag turned towards them. Despite the hopelessness of his situation Gronbag fought on, trying to break out, but the marines kept him surrounded, focusing on defence and trying to wear him out. The orc was breathing heavily, seemingly because of rage rather than fatigue, but Llorrin couldn't be sure. He stared at the battle for several moments before something hit him.This… This isn't right, he thought. Why he did not know.

"Wait," Llorrin heard himself say, stepping forward. "He's my prisoner. I'll take him in."

"What are you talking about, boy?" one of the marines growled, keeping his eyes on the orc.

Llorrin slowly drew his cutlass, dropping the scabbard in the sand. "He's my responsibility. You men, back down."

The marines seemed to hesitate, and Gronbag seemed puzzled above all, but he didn't use the opportunity to attack. Once they saw more of their companions as well as some of Llorrin's crew had arrived the Tiragarde marines slowly backed down, forming a circle to keep Gronbag from escaping. The orc turned towards Llorrin, his eyes narrowed and suspicious, like he was expecting this to be some sort of trick.

"Captain, what are you doing?" Llorrin heard one of his men ask. He couldn't tell who it was.

"None of you need to die here. I'll take him," Llorrin said, taking some time to study his opponent, who seemed to be doing the same. The orc hadn't really weakened much during his imprisonment, and didn't seem to have been dealt any serious injuries during his escape, but it couldn't be that he wasn't even the least bit tired… could it? Llorrin noticed how Gronbag was still in chains, though the chains had been cut. There was no way Gronbag had been able to break them without outside help. Judging by what he'd already seen, the chains weren't going to hinder him much. Gronbag's eyes were burning with rage, but there was a certain amount of experience and patience to them. It wasn't the blind rage of the warlock or that of some of the warriors he'd seen aboard Gronbag's ships. This was something more. A part of him was screaming at him to back down from this fight, but he knew it was already too late for that.

"What are you waiting for? You could always surrender," Llorrin taunted when he realized he was probably giving Gronbag too much time to catch his breath.

With a mighty roar Gronbag started forward, swinging his cutlass down with enough force to split Llorrin in half from the top down, if he hadn't sidestepped. Llorrin tried to ram his shoulder into Gronbag's and use his force against him to send him toppling down to the ground. His movements were instinctive, the result of years of training, but years of training hadn't prepared him for the massive wall of muscle that crashed into him. Gronbag stayed on his feet with ease, and his left arm came up, trying to swat him away. Llorrin had no choice but to move with the force of the collision and pivot around Gronbag to dodge his arm. Once he'd outmanoeuvred his opponent he swiped at his back, but Gronbag was quicker than he thought and ducked under the cutlass like he knew exactly where it was.

Llorrin cut nothing but air, and before he'd regained his balance the orc's foot came out of nowhere, hitting him in the knee and knocking his left leg out from under him. In one fluid motion Gronbag turned and swung down at his head again, but Llorrin raised his cutlass with both his hands. A tremendous shock that might have sent him crashing down if he hadn't already been on his knees went through his arms. Gronbag's knee then flew up towards his face, but Llorrin twisted right, dodging it and pushing back against the knee with his left hand. He surged forward, his painful shoulder slamming into Gronbag's left leg. If he went for the legs, it was easier to bring his opponent out of balance. He used both his shoulder and his hand and pushed up with all his might, sending the orc toppling over his back, face first into the sand. The orc roared in rage, a sound that promised revenge.

Llorrin's instincts told him to strike at his opponent's exposed back before he could get up, but then he realized he had to take Gronbag alive, which wasn't exactly going to make this fight any easier. I'll have to disarm him, he thought. That shouldn't have to be impossible, but Gronbag wielded his cutlass differently from any of his old sparring partners and was thus, in his own way, unpredictable.

Panting, Llorrin turned and regained his composure as Gronbag, covered in sand, got up. The orc spat out a mouthful of sand and approached him, more carefully this time. The first few strikes were rather slow and not so powerful, as if to lull him into a false sense of security, but Llorrin knew better. Gronbag suddenly started taking powerful one-handed swings at his face, midsection and legs. Steel kissed steel every time he parried. The very force of the blows sent sparks flying off the blades and made Llorrin fear either of their swords would soon break. With Gronbag adopting this tactic, there was little else Llorrin could do but defend himself. Their weapons were almost identical, but Gronbag was bigger and had a longer reach. The circle of men moved with them as Llorrin was slowly driven back. As he parried a fresh flurry of blows Llorrin realized he wasn't going to hold on forever and had to come up with a plan soon.

From the corner of his eye he saw the rising sun, blinding as it rose up above the sea. If he could have Gronbag turn towards him, that could give him the edge he needed… As Gronbag drew back his cutlass for a powerful thrust Llorrin suddenly veered left, twisting his back towards the sun. Gronbag followed him with his eyes, so he could readjust his thrust… and looked right into the blinding rays of light. Due to the relative darkness of the morning, his eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the sun, which only played to Llorrin's advantage. Gronbag roared, and his thrust missed wildly. Llorrin sidestepped, grabbed Gronbag's sword arm with his left hand and thrust at his upper arm. The tip of his cutlass disappeared right below the shoulder, hopefully deep enough to immobilize his sword arm and force Gronbag to drop his sword.

Got him! Llorrin thought, when suddenly his sword arm got caught in a crushing, iron grip. A sharp tug, and his cutlass was ripped from his fingers. He looked down at his arm in terror, finding it entangled in the chains on Gronbag's left arm. Before he could do as much as scream Gronbag reeled him in and bashed his forehead right between his eyes. The world turned black for a second, and time seemed to slow. A knee hit him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of him. He gasped for breath, but Gronbag slammed into him with his full weight, knocking him down onto the ground. If the warlock had been heavy, this orc was worse. He could barely breathe, his face was bleeding, and his lip had ripped open right below the right part of his nose. Llorrin looked up at his enemy through a haze of blood as Gronbag lifted the cutlass. He believed he heard a woman screaming. Llorrin barely registered himself doing it, but he must've thrown sand into Gronbag's eyes, because the orc reeled backwards and roared.

The moment of reprieve was short-lived, as Gronbag jumped up, lifting him up like a rag doll and using the chain to twist his sword arm behind his back. Llorrin screamed as his arm was not only almost being broken, but also being crushed by the chain. In that moment he wished he had still been wearing the bracers. His scream was cut off as the second chain came up and was pulled tight around his neck. The links pressed painfully into his skin, threatening to crush his throat. Llorrin's left arm reached up uselessly towards the chain, trying to pull it away so he could at least get a bit of air, but his fingers kept slipping off the metal, the wet sand covering it biting painfully into his skin. He quickly found himself being dragged backwards through the sand, choking and wheezing.

"Stand back! One wrong move and I'll break his neck!" Gronbag growled as he got near the edge of the circle. The Tiragarde marines didn't move.

"There's no way out of here for you, orc! He doesn't belong to us! Spare him, it'll save you a great deal of pain." It was Palliter.

"And become your prisoner? He was unable to hold me, and you would too, human," Gronbag growled.

"Really? Then why don't I just kill you now?" Palliter threatened.

"In my crew, all the warriors were prepared to die for their captain. Unless this lot is as gutless as the cowards you call your men, forcing me to kill their captain may put you into more trouble than you can afford," Gronbag said, looking at each man that belonged to Llorrin's crew in turn.

I'm done for, Llorrin thought. It was possible Palliter was only pretending Llorrin didn't have any value to him so Gronbag's position would seem weaker, but from what he'd already seen from the man, he wasn't going to count on it. Gronbag's life could buy the freedom of Palliter's captive soldiers, and that was no doubt where the lieutenant's priorities were at. Llorrin doubted he would've acted any differently himself if for instance Irewyth or Carekon had been held captive by the Horde. Everything depended on how loyal his crew really was now. He looked over his men, who were standing among the Tiragarde marines. Why wasn't anyone doing anything?

"All of you back away or I'll kill him!" Gronbag bellowed.

"Do… as he says," Llorrin growled, and Gronbag loosened his grip on the chain a little so he could speak more freely. He coughed before speaking. "He… won… his freedom…"

Palliter's marines looked at their commander, who had a stubborn look on his face. Gronbag slowly kept backing up, through the lines of the undecided marines, and was getting further and further away. Whatever his decision, Palliter was going to have to make it fast. The silence was deafening, until it was interrupted by the familiar click of a pistol's hammer being pulled into place. Llorrin looked in the direction of the sound and saw Eryck, who was holding a Tiragarde marine at gunpoint.

"The first man that does anything that gets my captain killed, will die just the same," he proclaimed, aiming at several men in quick succession. Eryck didn't even flinch as several of the Tiragarde marines turned their swords in his direction. He merely smirked at the sight of them as he slowly let his eyes stray towards Gronbag.

"And you, orc. You're going to back up thirty more paces, then you're going to turn and run, and no one's going to come after you. If you still decide to kill him, I'll put some lead where your brain is supposed to be. I'm warning you, I never miss."

"And how do I know you're not going to shoot me as soon as I drop him?" Gronbag grunted.

"Because he's going to tell me," Eryck said, nodding at Llorrin.

"Don't shoot him… unless he kills me," Llorrin said meekly, following Eryck's lead. He was grateful for his bodyguard's help, but at the same time he felt it would seem more merciful if Gronbag simply ended up killing him.

"You'd better not be lying to me human, or I'll have you choke on that lead," Gronbag grunted, slowly backing up. Eryck kept his pistol aimed in the general direction of the Tiragarde marines and checked over his shoulder every now and then to see if they weren't creeping any closer, but his eyes were fixed mostly on Gronbag. Llorrin counted the paces, and was actually surprised when Gronbag suddenly let go of him. Wheezing for air and coughing like he'd just swallowed a bee, Llorrin crashed forward on his hands and knees, wishing nothing more than to bury his head in the sand. He couldn't get up, nor did he want to. How was he going to face his men now? Even when he heard angry voices, he didn't look up. He saw his blood, dripping red and wet into the sand, where it disappeared almost instantly. The world was spinning all around him, and only came to a stop when someone crouched down next to him. The smooth hands that ran across his face and grabbed his arm could only belong to one person.

"Irewyth?" he asked, puzzled.

"Sshh. Don't talk. You're awfully brave… and stupid, you know that?!" she said, her voice strained. He thought he heard her sob, and when Llorrin looked up he saw her eyes glistening with tears. He couldn't believe it.

"Irewyth…" he started, but before he could say anything more she told him to be quiet again and put a flask of water to his mouth. The water was clear and fresh, like it had come straight from a spring, and instantly made him feel better, if only a little.

"Don't ever do anything like that again," she said, grabbing him tightly, as if she wanted to crush him if he refused. Llorrin caught Eryck swaggering towards them.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, milady, but the captain here has some business he needs to take care of. Our friend Palliter doesn't seem too happy."

Irewyth gave Eryck a look that could have frozen a waterfall in place and got up, leaving it to Eryck to help Llorrin up. He stared at her back, noticing how she was still keeping her face turned away from the rest of the crew. He wanted to go to her, but he knew he couldn't, not right now. Llorrin let go of Eryck after the first few steps.

"I believe I can walk," he told him, painfully aware of the mess he'd just made.

"Oh yeah? You got close to not being able to do anything anymore there for a minute," Eryck smirked.

"Yeah… about that…"

"Don't mention it."

"I'm glad you're still good at bluffing. You've always been a horrible shot."

Eryck grinned. "Yeah, but they didn't know that."

Llorrin would've chuckled at Eryck's remark if he hadn't been in so much pain. Any laughter welling up inside of him died as soon as he was confronted with Lieutenant Palliter.

"Is this your idea of an exchange, captain?" the lieutenant asked briskly.

"Back off," Irewyth said, appearing to his left. The tears were gone from her stormy eyes, the fire had returned. Llorrin was surprised to see she'd recovered so fast.

"Hiding behind women now, 'captain'?" Palliter said, shaking his head.

"Hiding?!" Irewyth exclaimed. "At least he-"

"Irewyth, hush," Llorrin said before things could escalate.

Think, I need to think, he told himself, knowing Irewyth wasn't going to stay quiet for very long, but right now standing was difficult enough by itself. He reasoned that perhaps this time, it would be best to simply tell the truth.

"I take full responsibility for what happened. I'm sorry for your men, but I had to think of my own men, too," he started hoarsely, tasting blood on his tongue. "If I'd let your men take him in, you simply would've said he was your prisoner, and my men might have had to endanger themselves to get you something different… or carry on without any supplies."

Lieutenant Palliter was at least decent enough not to deny it, but he didn't look any happier for it. "Yes, and now we both have nothing," he scowled, clenching a fist. "Two of my men are dead. Four are imprisoned and will remain imprisoned, all thanks to you. You could've even let your men take him in if you wanted to have him so badly, but you had to go and play hero."

Llorrin didn't really know what to say. "It wouldn't have been-" he started, but Palliter quickly interrupted him.

"Right? Honourable? Is that what you were going to say?" the lieutenant snarled. "Let me open your eyes, boy, there was nothing honourable about what you did. You weakened our cause, the Alliance's cause. Sure, that orc will be thankful to you for it, but he'll try to kill you the next time he sees you all the same. Next time try to be more worried about your duty to your allies instead of what your enemies think of you."

Llorrin sighed. He'd hoped his men would appreciate that he didn't hide behind them or risk their lives against a dangerous adversary like Gronbag, but there was no way he could explain that to the lieutenant. His head was pounding, feeling ready to burst. Even if he could've come up with something else to say, he wouldn't have felt like continuing this discussion.

"I already said I'm taking full responsibility. I'll have to give you something else, I'm sure we can come to some agreement. Name anything you want," he said, not entirely sure what he still had to offer.

Irewyth put one hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side. "Don't even think about it," she warned.

"Damn Irewyth, if only you'd be a little bit more cooperative we could buy out this entire continent," Eryck quipped.

Irewyth's eyes narrowed on Eryck as if she was weighing off whether she was going to take that as an insult or a compliment. In the end she gave Eryck a rap on the shoulder. Palliter shook his head at the lack of discipline, but otherwise ignored it.

"I can tell you have nothing else to offer in return, or you wouldn't have been so afraid of losing your prisoner. Here's what you're going to do," he said, standing over him intimidatingly. "When you reach Theramore, you are going to go to Jaina. She is busy and doubtlessly hasn't ever heard about a lowly brat like you, but I will give you a letter of recommendation that will help you get inside the keep. I still have some friends left in Theramore, so if you don't behave like a fool you just might gain an audience with her."

Llorrin frowned. Confronting Jaina hadn't exactly been his intention. He was trying to keep her attention away from the remaining Kul Tiras forces on Kalimdor, not attract it. "And what will I tell her?" he asked, his heartbeat rising.

"Try to convince her to send us reinforcements. Nortwatch Hold hasn't been able to spare us anyone for a while now, we need help from Theramore. Tell them to send us soldiers, and materials to repair the keep, or we may get overwhelmed in the end."

Llorrin weighed off his possibilities. He soon found there weren't that many, but then this was a better deal than he'd dared hope for. "Fine. You have my word."

Luckily, his word was all the lieutenant required, though the amount of supplies he was willing to part with was less generous than it probably would have been if they hadn't lost Gronbag. Aware he wasn't going to get a better deal, Llorrin accepted. Palliter's demand could cause him more trouble than the lieutenant was aware of, but since he was still dazed from the fight, that wasn't something Llorrin was going to worry about right now.

As the soldiers tended to the supplies he went back to his ship, forcing himself to walk in a straight line. As he got close to the shore, Carekon, who'd been seeing to the men Gronbag had wounded during his escape, turned towards him and approached him.

"Llorrin, you've sustained horrible injuries. Hold still," the chaplain said.

Llorrin raised an arm to ward him off. "Don't heal it," he said. The decision was made in an instant. He was going to carry his injuries and the pain that came with them like Captain Adane did. Carekon seemed to understand, but that didn't mean he approved.

"You don't have to-"

"I do."

"No longer that concerned about your pretty face are you?" Irewyth taunted, speaking close to his ear and touching his chest and back in a way that made his blood run faster.

"Your attitude changed quickly," Llorrin remarked.

"I never change my attitude. Besides, we don't have time to mope around. There's something I want to show you," Irewyth said as she got in the sloop, followed by Eryck and the two sailors he'd originally picked. She actually looked excited, which made him all the more worried.

"What is it?" Llorrin asked, doing his best to get into the sloop without falling into the sea. Somehow he managed.

"You'll see," Irewyth said with a mysterious smile.

"Come on Irewyth, this is no time for games," Llorrin scolded her as the sailors started rowing them towards the ship.

Irewyth looked at the ship. "I'm not toying with you… not right now," she said, shaking her head, "it's just that I think you won't believe it until you see it."

Irewyth had been wrong. Even when he saw it, he couldn't believe it. He found Flynt on the upper deck, looking worse than he did and being held down by two of the tall marines he'd seen at Irewyth's side before.

"You don't mean to say…" Llorrin whispered, looking at Irewyth. She gave a short nod.

"He helped Gronbag escape," she confirmed, looking at Flynt icily.

"How do you know…?" Llorrin asked.

"Didn't you notice he'd been acting suspicious for a while already? The last few weeks he was as nervous as a gnome in a throwing competition. At the night that orc tried to kill you he was as pale as a corpse and almost the only man in the entire crew to stay sober. When you took only a few men with you to Tiragarde he complained, because the more men you took, the less trouble he would have to move around unseen. You have to talk to your men a little more, then you could've figured this out all by yourself," Irewyth said, not bothering to hide how clever she thought she was.

Llorrin looked at Flynt, who looked too badly beat up to protest or say anything in his defence. Breathing alone seemed difficult for the man. It somehow didn't sit right with him. Whatever Flynt had done, Irewyth and her cronies should've waited for his judgement before doing anything to him.

"I'm not saying you're not making any sense, but it still doesn't prove anything. Why are you so sure?"

Irewyth rolled her eyes.

"You asked me to keep an eye on Jeredan, but I chose to keep an eye on him instead," she said with a small nod in Flynt's direction, acknowledging him for the first time since she'd returned to the ship. She smiled. "Look, it was this easy."

In a moment the hydromancess was gone, pulled completely from sight, which left them all confused, save for her thugs, who smirked knowingly. A few seconds later she appeared again from thin air, right behind Flynt. She struck a pose, looking like she was expecting a round of applause.

"I didn't know you could do that," Eryck said.

"I didn't sit still all this time. A mage should never stop learning new spells," Irewyth shrugged nonchalantly.

Llorrin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you stop him?" he said silently, trying to stay calm, knowing his frustration would only amuse her.

"I had no idea he'd go this far, all I had was a hunch," she defended herself, somewhat incensed. "I followed him down to the brigg, but he closed the door behind him before I could slip through, so I had no other choice than to stand there and listen. Luckily I have such sharp ears. Gronbag had apparently frightened this pansy here into believing that he was going to break free at one point no matter what and make us all pay, but would remember who had helped him. Flynt seemed scared out of his mind, but I had no idea he'd go as far as freeing him, and I couldn't enter until he did or said something that proved his treason. While I may have been invisible, a door opening by itself would have cut their conversation short before I got to hear some incriminating evidence, don't you think? All I could do was listen, and by the time I realized Flynt had unlocked Gronbag's chains it was already too late. I caught Flynt red-handed and sounded the alarm as soon as I'd managed to knock him out," she explained, tapping Flynt's skull with the base of her staff proudly.

Llorrin sighed. "It's unfortunate you couldn't stop them both."

"Are you all so helpless that I have to do everything myself?" Irewyth asked, gesturing angrily. "I did what I could, and it didn't make things any easier that I couldn't kill either of them. If I'd killed this wretch before he admitted his crime, I know you would have suspected me. No, don't even try to deny it."

Llorrin slowly came to terms with the truth. Irewyth's story made sense when he thought about it, and she was right. He shouldn't rely on her to do all of his dirty work. He actually counted himself lucky she hadn't tried. All of her spells took some time to channel, and she must have been taken by surprise. If she had tried to take on Gronbag in close quarters on her own without being able to kill him she may have ended up worse than he had. A crushing heat embraced him. The pain and anger he felt over Flynt's betrayal drowned out any relief knowing Irewyth was okay brought him. The blue pools of his eyes raged as fiercely as the storm Deathwing had caused.

"Why did you do it, Flynt? Why? Answer me," Llorrin said through clenched teeth. Flynt coughed, spitting up some blood. His eyes rolled up slowly towards him. The traitor was shaking uncontrollably. The fear in his eyes was clear to him now, which made Llorrin wonder how he had never noticed it before.

"Some captain… you are… A vainglorious zealot… who is going to get us all killed… I… I should've been captain… I would've sailed us all back to Kul Tiras! Home… to our families. There's nothing for us here… nothing… but death."

"For some of us," Llorrin said with a sad nod, reaching into his vest. He pulled out his pistol and shot Flynt right in the head. The traitor's body slammed backwards into the deck, spurts of blood staining it from both sides. The gunshot reverberated in every fibre of Llorrin's being, yet he didn't recall hearing it, nor the gasps or the cries of several of the men around him.

Damn you Flynt. Damn you for making me do this, Llorrin thought, his eyes fixed on the gaping wound his pistol had left in the traitor's skull. The smoke slowly crept up from the barrel of his pistol as he stood in complete silence, wondering how it could've come so far.

"Well, at least we have fewer mouths to feed now," one of the men that had been holding Flynt chuckled.

"How morbid," Irewyth said, but Llorrin had a feeling she wasn't as shocked as she was pretending to be. Feeling a sudden urge to get away, he tucked the pistol away, patting Eryck on the shoulder as he walked past him.

"Congratulations. You're first mate now."

He jerked to a stop and cast a final, brief look on Flynt's corpse, realizing he couldn't leave his men without orders.

"Divide up his possessions and throw him into the sea. No burial, not this time," he said. Bad-tempered, he continued his way to his captain's cabin. Once he'd arrived there, he crashed down on his chair, burying his face in his hands. When the pressure on his bruised skin became unbearable he lifted his head from his hands and leaned back, keeping his eyes on the door almost apathetically. He had a feeling his solitude would soon come to an end, and he ended up being right. The door flung open to reveal Jeredan, who looked even more cross than usual. That didn't come as a surprise either.

"You are such a weakling!" Jeredan burst out, slamming the door shut behind him. He punched down on the desk. "You're lucky you're in such a sorry state already, 'hero', or I would've beaten some sense into you myself! Taking on Gronbag, an orc who's survived encounters with me, me, on your own, are you insane?! He wasn't even yours to kill! I finally had him where I wanted him, and you ruined it!" he said, his fist straying close to Llorrin's face, though he was just able to contain himself in the end. Unable to stand still, Jeredan paced back and forth in the small room, as if that would help him with his anger.

"I'd hoped the ice orb Irewyth gave me would have granted me an edge, but it had no effect on him," Llorrin sighed.

"Bah. I told you to keep him gagged, and you didn't listen. That's what started it all. I knew he was going to frighten his guards and play mind games with them until they snapped. You could've avoided all that if you'd just listened to me. I knew him better than anyone here, yet you didn't heed my words. Why won't you listen? Do you think I'm some kind of idiot?"

Yes, Llorrin thought, but if he said that he might as well just have stabbed himself right then and there.

"I could've told you that ice orb wasn't going to have any effect if I had known you'd be stupid enough to challenge him. That orb is a magical trinket, and Gronbag has several enchanted runes painted on his body that shield him from such petty magics. If you'd been smart enough to confiscate his armour when you had the chance you would've seen them, but then I suppose I shouldn't expect too much of you. You even forgot these," Jeredan rambled, producing the runed bracers and tossing them onto his desk. "Next time you decide to pick a fight, wear them, or I'll shove them down your throat."

Llorrin knew better than to hope Jeredan was going to leave it at that. He just went on.

"You need to start using the people you have, instead of trying to do everything on your own, or you're not going to make it."

"Then train me," Llorrin heard himself say. The words had left his mouth before he'd even really given them much thought.

Jeredan stopped and studied him carefully for a few moments. He seemed to calm down slightly, enough so that he at least wasn't shouting anymore.

"Are you finally starting to see my value then? I was halfway expecting you to ask Irewyth or Carekon to teach you some fancy spells, but it appears you might have some sense in you after all," Jeredan gloated, raising his chin proudly. Llorrin made a mental note to stroke Jeredan's ego a little bit earlier next time he got angry, because it appeared to have worked wonders to calm him down. Despite that, he knew he had to be mindful not to make Jeredan feel like he was too dependent on him either. He remembered what had happened last time he'd made that mistake.

"Well, it's going to take us a bit of time to reach Theramore, so we have enough time to-"

"Yes, about that," Jeredan interrupted, looking at the door as if he wanted to make sure it was properly closed before continuing. "Theramore's going to be a dangerous venture. One word in the wrong ear, one guy like Flynt who snaps and decides to tell on us, and Jaina is going to send out ships to claim Adane's fleet as her own."

Llorrin's head was still pounding painfully, but when he thought about it, he realized Jeredan's advice had usually been pretty solid. He had a negative, but also often very realistic view of things. "So what do you propose we do?" he asked.

"Split up. Everyone we can trust completely goes with us to Theramore, everyone who looks even the least bit shaky or discontent joins the other crew, which should sail straight back to Adane to report. That way, if we don't make it out of Theramore, at least Adane won't have to send out more people to find out what we've learned."

"How can we know who to trust? And who's going to captain the other ship if you're coming with me?" Llorrin asked.

Jeredan sighed, and Llorrin somehow caught on.

"I suppose I could leave that to you," he said.

"Fine," Jeredan said, heading towards the door. Upon reaching it he stopped briefly and looked over his shoulder. "I expect us to start the training tomorrow. Be ready, and let Carekon do something about those injuries, 'cos I won't be able to teach you anything if you can barely move," Jeredan said as he headed for the door.

"But-"

"Yes yes, I know you want to act all tough and look like your captain and all that, but do you think even Adane is stupid enough to run around wounded and weakened? Of course not. Just let the old man get rid of the bruises on your body and anything that might hinder you in a fight, because I'm not going to go easy on you. Don't cry too much over having to part with your hard-earned injuries, I promise to get you some new ones after the first days of training, or day, if you only last as long as you did against Gronbag," the warrior mocked before he left.

He was probably doing exactly as Jeredan wanted him to by feeling this way, but Llorrin suddenly couldn't wait to get a chance to put a fist in Jeredan's face. He was going to welcome the training.

He sent for Carekon under the pretense that he only needed the chaplain's help to plot a course for both frigates, but also had him heal his injuries, all but the ones on his face. Adane had given them rough estimates on where he would hide the fleet, near a small island off the coast of Theramore, but they tried to plot an unconventional course that would decrease the chance of running into other ships.

"We'll have to be careful, and steer clear of the coasts," Carekon said as he made calculations. "Palliter's men said there's more and more orc ships going out to sea on a daily basis, it's as if they're trying to form a blockade around the continent. Their opinions were divided on whether Garrosh is trying to intimidate his own allies or trying to twhart the Alliance with his blockade."

"Probably both," Llorrin shrugged. "His intentions will matter little if we run into one of their ships, they'll attack us all the same." He was aware they were going to be more vulnerable if they split up. Carekon nodded in agreement and concentrated on drawing a safe course, something Llorrin couldn't really devote his mind to right now. He wondered what the chaplain thought about his little act of bravery… or stupidity, whichever way one chose to look at it. Carekon hadn't commented on it so far, and it didn't seem he was going to. Perhaps that was for the best.

He leaned back in his chair until Carekon was done drawing the nautical chart and remained like that even then, struggling with his thoughts until Jeredan returned to report. Officially Jeredan had split the best fighting men equally over both ships so they would both stand an equal chance at defeating an encounter with orcs, but those who weren't allowed to go to Theramore generally complained and felt there was more going on. Llorrin couldn't have been more surprised to find who Jeredan had picked to captain 'his' ship though. She came to him shortly after Carekon had left.

"That's a fine stunt you let Jeredan pull," Irewyth fumed. "He means to send me back to Adane, along with Eryck, and he says you gave him the authority to do it."

"I didn't know."

"You didn't know?! You mean you're letting him work behind your back?! What's wrong Llorrin? Did Gronbag hit you too hard?" she asked in a belittling tone, finding it hard to hide her anger.

"Look, Jeredan is an asshole, but he's on our side, so I'm sure he has his reasons. We can't have all the best fighters on the same ship, or the other might not make it. You should stop worrying so much."

Irewyth seemed to consider that for a moment, but then her anger won it over her reason. "Worrying? About you?" she said, perking an eyebrow.

Llorrin was too tired for this. "Drop the act already, Irewyth, I'm not going to tell anyone you're more than just an ice queen."

She smirked briefly, but then sighed. "Look, I get that we need to split up, but why am I being sent to Adane?"

"Adane isn't going to be very happy when he hears about everything that's happened in the meantime. The mutiny, the death of Elduin… We need someone with a glib tongue to bring him the news, and that happens to be you. He won't hold you responsible, so you'll be safe. Maybe his anger will have cooled down by the time we return to him."

Irewyth put a finger to her chin considered that, smiling a little. "Pretending you need me, clever. You have a rather glib tongue yourself," she said.

"I do need you. Getting the news to Adane is our main priority. There's always the chance Jaina won't let us leave once she realizes what we're doing, and let's face facts… We have little mages of your quality left in the fleet Irewyth. Adane could afford losing me and Jeredan more than he could losing you," Llorrin continued, aware she wasn't quite convinced yet. She was probably smart enough to be aware he was exaggerating a little, but even so didn't turn out to be immune to flattery.

"Fine then, I'll do you this favour, but promise me this," she said, suddenly reaching over the table to pull him closer so she could whisper in his ear. "You're going to be careful of Jeredan. He's getting rid of me, he's getting rid of Eryck… You're going to be on your own if he tries anything. Just now I heard him say he always thought Flynt smelled of fear. If that is true, why didn't he say so before? Why didn't he ever warn you? Or did he?"

"No," Llorrin had to admit.

Irewyth sighed, her breath tickling his skin. She loosened her grip on his collar, but still held him there, and he had a feeling she did so on purpose so he couldn't see her face.

"Look… I don't like leaving you alone with… with him," she said. "Even if he doesn't mean to kill you… Well, he's been having a bad influence on you since we met him. I don't… want you to become like him."

Am I, then? Is that really why you're so worried? Llorrin thought, but he didn't ask her.

"Hey, I still have Carekon to keep me on the right path," he smirked.

That made Irewyth chuckle. "You'd better watch out then. I swear if we meet again and I find you put some of those weird scars underneath your eyes, I'm going to kill you," she promised. And with that she was gone.

When the ships finally departed they quickly went in different directions. They both had to go back south, but Llorrin's ship was going to go a little bit more to the west, and they'd chosen to split up immediately to decrease the chance that the same harm would befall them both. Llorrin stood on the quarterdeck, watching Irewyth's ship shrink slowly. He could have sworn he saw her silhouette on the top of the deck, looking back at him, though it could have just been his imagination.

The one thing that confused him was how Jeredan had chosen to take Wheann with them to Theramore and send Eryck, who had shown to be more than loyal, away. When he questioned Jeredan about it the warrior laughed.

"You're not telling me you're afraid of him, are you? Sure, he wasn't happy to be put on another crew than Irewyth, but that's exactly why I picked him."

"Just to bug him?" Llorrin asked.

"No," Jeredan said, apparently angry Llorrin even considered that. "He's been a wreck for too long. I thought perhaps being away from Irewyth will make him a little bit less obsessed with her, make him realize there's more girls out there. I can't be sure if the wenches in Theramore will be to anyone's liking, but at least they won't be undead. The Scourge did a good job of limiting our options in that regard."

"Don't you start acting like Eryck now," Llorrin said. He frowned. "Why'd you send Eryck away anyway? He's perfectly loyal."

"That's exactly why I sent him. Can't have a ship with just people I don't trust on it," Jeredan said.

Llorrin's heart skipped a beat. "You mean… You think Irewyth still needs protection?"

Jeredan shrugged. "She killed a lot of people. If anyone else still wants to murder her, they'll be on that boat. As for Eryck, he was disappointed that he couldn't come, but I told him the same thing, to watch her back. Besides, you need to learn to start living without a bodyguard."

He was probably right. "You're more concerned about her than I would've thought."

"And why not?" Jeredan bit. "She's a good girl. Powerful, headstrong, cunning… If we had a couple more like her we wouldn't have to sail around hiding from our allies and enemies both, or begging others for help."

Llorrin chuckled. "Heh. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were in love."

To his surprise Jeredan scowled and turned away. "I don't know what that means."

As Jeredan walked away Llorrin wondered what he'd said wrong. It was still on his mind early the next morning, when they were about to start their first training. Against Carekon's advice, Llorrin had removed the eyepatch. The right side of his face was swollen and painful to the point where he couldn't see properly through his right eye, so he had no other choice. The cut over had healed well anyway, though thin scars remained right above and below his eye, and even on the eyelid, so the scars were connected whenever he closed his eye. Jeredan brought an old bastard sword with him from the armoury that was duller than a herring, but Jeredan assured him that it would suffice for training.

"It's not very light," Llorrin, who was used to one-handed combat, remarked, evoking an aggravated sigh from the warrior.

"Not very light?" Jeredan echoed. "Listen kid, forget about light weapons. You need to be able to put weight behind your attacks, or they'll just glance off your opponent like water on rock. I've fought many idiots who bragged about how light their weapons were, and I've killed every single one of those fools. What hits their speed allowed them to slip through just glanced off of my armour, and once they'd exhausted themselves they became just as 'slow' as they thought I was. Tough opponents won't fall from one hit, you need to wear them down, and if you're hitting them lightly you'll just be exhausting yourself. The sword is fine. It only seems heavy because you're weak."

"I'm not that weak," Llorrin protested, but Jeredan wasn't very impressed. When he remembered how Jeredan had blocked the sea giant's blade above his head, Llorrin realized he had a long way to go.

"How did you get to be so strong?" he asked.

"Training. What, you think I was born this way? Us humans sometimes think other races, like the orcs, are naturally stronger than us. It's simply an excuse made by weaklings who lack discipline. If they were right, tell me how did humans crush the Horde in the Second War, how did the orcs' alliance with the ogres not guarantee their victory, how did this 'Burning Legion' with their twelve foot high burning giants falter against the Alliance?"

"Magic?" Llorrin had guessed, feeling smart.

Combat was clearly Jeredan's territory, and he wasn't fazed by the remark. "Ah yes, magic, but with no one to hold the spears and swords and keep the enemies off their backs, a mage isn't going to cast a lot of spells. I can tell you haven't been in many real battles. Mages on both sides will often cancel each other out, and in the end almost every battle turns into a slugfest, little more than a tavern brawl. Once the warriors on the front lines are routed, the mages won't tip the scales in their army's favour anymore, I can guarantee you that. In close quarters, they die like dogs. Try to imagine an army as if it were a knight. The mages are the knight's lance, the warriors his shield. Have you ever seen a knight charge into combat without a shield?"

Llorrin seemed to remember battles from his history lessons that had been decided by mages, but he held his tongue. He wanted to start the training, not discuss theory. He imagined an army of old men, who had discussed the best use of every weapon endlessly, but never once lifted a sword in their lives. He didn't imagine them winning many battles. As it so often happened though, Jeredan saw his silence as an encouragement to ramble on.

"Humanity brought forth some of the greatest warriors in history, yet some would still believe we are weak, even our own kind. Sir Lothar defeated Doomhammer, damnit," the warrior muttered, more to himself than to Llorrin, and from the look in his eyes Llorrin could tell Jeredan was reliving the decisive battle at the end of the Second War, where the commanders of the Alliance and the Horde had clashed in a legendary duel. Lothar had fallen, but accounts were divided on whether Doomhammer had won the fight fairly or received help. It came as no surprise that Jeredan was in the camp of those who believed Doomhammer had cheated. He would've expected Jeredan to say something along the lines of 'a great warrior wouldn't have let himself be surprised', but it seemed the death of Lothar still pained him after all those years, which was strange considering his general attitude towards commanders. Llorrin thought it best not to ask him about that.

When they finally started the training Jeredan insisted he would use his own two hander, saying Llorrin would try harder to defend himself knowing someone was swinging a real weapon at him. Llorrin somehow didn't feel too sure about it. One 'accidental' hit on the head, one, and Jeredan would be captain. At any rate, it did put him on edge, the adrenaline pumping almost like in a real battle.

Jeredan wanted him to become accustomed to the weight and feel of the bastard sword before teaching Llorrin anything but defensive blocks. He announced the direction he would be striking from or followed a preset pattern, but he didn't seem to be holding back even a little as far as strength he put behind his blows was concerned. Often times Llorrin felt like the bastard sword was going to fly from his hands when the swords clashed, but somehow Llorrin always held on, even when his arms felt like they'd become as heavy as lead.

Llorrin had seen him fight before, but it wasn't until now that he fully realized what a skilled fighter Jeredan really was. When Llorrin didn't manage to parry, Jeredan would simply adjust his swing or stop his blade at the last second so it would whizz right past him or stop less than an inch away from him, the blade getting so close to his skin he could almost feel its cold touch.

The journey was uneventful, and didn't give them much to do but train. Every night Llorrin slept less easily, twisting and turning as he tried to get into a comfortable position, but his arms and fingers felt like they stretched an inch every day and his shoulders felt like they had had the towers of Dalaran collapse on them. Llorrin had to turn to Carekon's healing magic to keep going more than once, though he forced himself to only ask if his fatigue was so bad it was slowing down his progress. The chaplain was clearly concerned about the training, saying there were types of injuries even the Holy Light couldn't heal, but Llorrin wasn't going to give up, not in front of Jeredan.

Just when he thought he was getting used to the bastard sword Jeredan produced an ugly heavy two-hander from the armoury, saying he used to own such a sword. It was even heavier than the bastard sword and it again took Llorrin some time to adjust. By that point he'd started alternating between offensive and defensive maneuvres and was working on his footwork, but he wasn't sure if he was really making progress, because Jeredan never commented on it, and it was impossible for him to tell just how much Jeredan was holding back.

Their spars had attracted the attention of the crew, and Llorrin had spectators more often than not. This actually put his mind at ease a little. If Jeredan had any plans to get rid of him, making it look like an accident would be more difficult if people were watching. Like a dog that was familiar with its master however, Jeredan seemed to perceive the change in him almost immediately.

"You're thinking I'll betray you, like Flynt did?" he asked, frowning. "I'm not him. That guy wasn't right in the head. Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I've had ample opportunities."

"I still wonder what got into him," Llorrin said.

Jeredan shrugged. "Driven mad. Snapped. It happens to more people than you know. Those 'Scarlet Crusaders' Palliter talked about, for example. All gone insane, according to him. His men said the same."

When he thought about the remnants of the Knights of the Silver Hand who fought futilely to rid their lands of the undead Llorrin could feel nothing else but pity. "Those people witnessed the destruction of their countries and order and had to live with the undead on a daily basis, you'd go 'insane' for less. What Flynt did, though, was unforgiveable."

"Can't disagree there. A journey like this could drive more people insane, but still… Helping an orc? Madness," Jeredan said, shaking his head angrily.

One day Jeredan had approached him with a padded leather vest and several rusted pieces of armour, insisting that he'd have to wear it now that they were going to spar for real. Jeredan was going to use blunted weapons during their spars, but he didn't expect Llorrin to last for very long unless he wore protection. Despite that, Llorrin didn't really like the idea.

"I never wear armour in real combat either. I've seen too many armoured men drown when they fell into the sea," he'd told Jeredan.

"Then don't fall. You'll die just as well if I stick a sword in you. And you'll still get wet. Wet with blood. And then after you're dead, you'll still be thrown into the sea," Jeredan had told him, but rather than trying to convince him with words he'd started beating into him during their spars. On the third day, Llorrin started wearing armour.

Jeredan had managed to convince him the same way he usually did things. At one point the warrior had hit him so hard he'd crashed down to his knees and spat up a mouthful of blood, causing Carekon to quickly run to his side.

"Can't you hold back a little?" the chaplain had asked as healing light spilled forth from his hands.

"You think Gronbag will hold back when you meet him again?" Jeredan had shrugged.

"He's right," Llorrin had said, pushing himself up once the pain had ebbed away.

The armour slowed him down greatly and made him feel clumsy, but Jeredan assured him that in time, it would start to feel like a second skin. Seeing Jeredan fight actually made him more prone to believe it.

The training seemed to make the uneventful journey fade into a blur. There was always the threat of an impending orc attack, and the tension was getting to the men. Thus when Carekon warned him they were getting close to Theramore it came as a relief to most.

"Finally. I'd nearly forgotten what a city looked like," Jeredan said once the port city came into view, though it was still little more than a speck on the horizon. "We'll have to get some new weapons and armour there, possibly recruit a good smith to sail with us. This ship's smithy has been gathering dust for too long."

Llorrin nodded absently. Their last smith had drowned during the Shattering and they hadn't had a chance to replace him. His impending meeting with Jaina had him more worried though. The right side of his face had been purple for a while, but lately had turned all sorts of yellow, so Llorrin finally let Carekon remove the last signs of the injury. He'd decided that if he was going to try and convince Jaina to send reinforcements to Tiragarde, he could do without the distracting stinging in his face he felt every time he spoke.

As they got closer to the city Llorrin was able to discern two massive bastions guarding the entryway to the docks. On them he saw men, gesturing and pointing, but most of all, he saw the cannons.