Eleven.
The dawn rose veiled in thick grey clouds and brought a cold, misting rain that clung to the skin like sweat. The knell of the Cathedral as it struck seven bells seemed almost as dour as the weather, and though it was the last day of the Noble Garden festivities, Varian Wrynn did not feel much like celebrating.
Being a day of feast, he would hear no petitions or grievances today and soon the Palace would be buzzing with the preparations for the grand ball that evening. While he would have preferred to cancel the whole damn thing, it was not possible. By nine bells, Stormwind would know what had befallen the yet unclaimed second in line to the throne and the gossip would begin. Too many people had been in the streets when Marcus Jonathan had galloped through, Taliah limp and bloody in his arms, while guards had bellowed, cursed and shoved people aside to make way. Already, rumours of an assassination attempt on a member of the royal family were circling and he could almost smell the beginnings of fear and discord brewing as he stood on the balcony overlooking the sprawling city. His presence at the ball was now mandatory to prove that the Crown would not be intimidated. Varian was well aware that he would have to show courage and resolve, so that his people would not fear that he would fall into despair as he had with Tiffin's death.
His dark hair was pasted flat to his skull, but Wrynn was unmindful of the rain. Behind him, Bolvar Fordragon had been silent for a long moment, waiting for his King to acknowledge his presence. "Tell me you have good news." Wrynn did not look at the man he loved like a brother. Already he could see the crows beginning to gather at the distant gate to his city, no doubt to peck at the newly mounted heads tarred and spiked there. Let them serve as a warning to those who would seek to harm my family he thought grimly as his lips set in a thin, firm line.
"The man we sought is now a guest of the dungeons, your Grace." Bolvar looked as tired as Varian felt. "As of yet, however, he has been less than forthcoming as to who hired him and his compatriots, whose heads are decorating the ramparts of the front gate, as you ordered." He'd sent a quartet of guards back to the field to collect the brigand's heads, and the men had done so unflinchingly.
"I will know who wanted my daughter and why." Varian's brows drew downward in a fearsome scowl as he glanced over his shoulder at his oldest friend. The king's entire demeanour was grim and cold as the weather and the unsaid by any means necessary hung heavy in the air between them. Bolvar was a loyal soldier, but he was also a paladin, and honour precluded the torture of a prisoner. His king was putting him in a difficult position. It was bad enough the interrogators had nearly drown the man already, but it seemed the brigand feared his employer more than the noose that undoubtedly awaited him.
"He's been put to the question since his arrival, your Majesty." Bolvar looked out over the vast city below them. He knew well enough that the matter of the assault on the young paladin had to be resolved, and quickly. The people and the guards, both the city watch and the palace garrison seemed to love Taliah well enough, while it was no secret the Council of Nobles loved her not. Varian feared that the people would quietly blame the Council for the attack, fomenting distrust and anger within the city against those who's business it was to make sure things within that city ran smoothly. The potential for trouble hung so thick in the air, Bolvar could almost taste it in the rain. "When a man fears his employer more than the consequences of his actions, it's difficult to get him to talk."
The King was silent for a long moment and the rain dripped off his jaw as his big hands curled into fists. There were worse things than a noose, and the wretch would learn of them soon enough. If anyone could get the prisoner to talk, it was the deathknight. "Where is Necrucian?"
Bolvar felt his mouth go dry. The deathknight had stalked off with his hideous new pet when they had arrived back at the palace, as though not trusting himself not to tear the prisoner's head from his shoulders, or Kal's for that matter. There was obviously no love lost between Havarbrook and the deathknight and the air seemed thick with tension whenever they were anywhere near each other. "The deathknight is either in his chambers or keeping watch over Taliah."
"Tell Necrucian I want that bastard talking by noon." The words came out in a growl and Bolvar's heart sank a little. Dutifully, the paladin saluted and withdrew in silence.
Ned shivered in the chair he was bound to, his head hanging in exhaustion. He and the furnishing he was strapped to were the only things occupying the cell, and the bandit had been alone for almost an hour. Despite his circumstances, Ned was quite proud that he hadn't been made to talk, though having his head held underwater until he though his lungs would burst had been frightening. More frightening was the gibbet he knew awaited him in the days or weeks to come, but when he thought of what would happen to him if he talked, hanging by his neck until he was dead seemed pleasant by comparison. There was nowhere the Defias could not get to him, even in the dungeon of Stormwind's palace. Ned resigned himself to a quick death with a sigh and closed his eyes, but the heavy, measured tread of boots coming down the corridor beyond the oak and iron door of his cell filled him with a sudden thrill of terror. The footsteps stopped outside his door and it suddenly swung open as though it were no heavier than the summer door of a bakeshop. Ned's eyes widened in naked fear as the tall man with glowing blue eyes and black plate stepped into the cell. There was no expression on his face, but those angry eyes drilled into him and turned his guts to water. Behind him, the hellhound slipped into the cell in silence as sat by the open door, its grey tongue lolling from its mouth.
Ned was bound hand and foot to the chair, his forearms and wrists lashed to the arms, his ankles to the rough, wooden front legs. Without a word, the deathknight strode forward and crouched before the brigand, looking him over as though the bowman were something that would need to be scraped off his boot. Necrucian reached out slowly and took Ned's right index finger in an iron grip and watched the man begin to squirm and then writhe in pain. As the pressure increased, the deathknight gave the digit a twist and the joint dislocated with a wet snap to an accompanying howl of pain. The deathknight waited a long moment, his eyes never leaving Ned's, and then tore the man's finger from his hand at the knuckle. The brigand thrashed in the chair and let out a shriek of agony as blood splashed the deathknight's armoured forearm and flowed down the arm of the chair. As though his finger were nothing more than a scrap of refuse, the deathknight tossed the severed digit to the hound who swallowed it in a gulp.
Necrucian felt nothing as the pitiful human before him writhed in torment. The brigand was white with terror and sweating from the pain as the crouching deathknight before him pulled a dirk from his boot, holding it up for the man to see. The man stank of sweat, fear and stale piss, and his tortured whimpering brought back a flood of memories from the eight years he'd spent in the Lich King's thrall. Normally Necrucian would have fought to quell the darkness that still claimed him, to keep the beast within chained so that he could tell himself he was not the monster he once was, but not this day. Taliah lay wounded, possibly dying, and he would have his pound of flesh.
"You know what I am." The dead tone of his deep, hollow voice made Ned flinch before he nodded quickly. The brigand couldn't even look at the deathknight lest his bladder let go again. "Then you know what I am capable of." Necrucian growled softly and slipped the dirk into his the black saronite bracer on his forearm. "You know why I am here, so I will not bother to ask questions. You will simply tell me what I want to know, or I will begin feeding you to my dog, piece by piece." Necrucian jerked his chin in the direction of the hellhound and the hideous thing wagged its tail. He continued dispassionately "Should you not start talking by the time I finish with your fingers, I will peal you slowly, like a dead rabbit, and present your skin to the King. After you've bled the floor of your cell red, I'll open your belly and find out if you are truly as gutless as I believe." A small, cold smile pulled at the deathknight's bloodless lips "Tell me what I want to know and I will give you a quick end. Tell me nothing and I will make your torment last for weeks..." Necrucian reached for Ned's right ring finger and his voice dropped into a menacing whisper. "There are worse things than death, human. Fuck with me and I promise you losing fingers will be the least of your problems."
That was all the invitation Ned needed. The open wound that had once been his finger throbbed mightily in a way that the bowman had never before experienced and the though of the deathknight pulling off another of his fingers filled him with sick panic. "VanCleef hired us! We didn't know who the girl was, I swear! He gave us a description and said she'd be armed. He didn't say nothin' about her being a paladin or the king's bastard, I swear!" His voice broke and his entire body tensed as the deathknight's hand closed about his finger. With a sharp twist, it came free. Ned's shriek was high and piercing, reminding the deathknight of a child's screams.
The name meant nothing to Necrucian and the hellhound picked up the discarded finger and licked the blood from Ned's hand before the deathknight pushed the dog away. The front of the man's already soiled breaches turned dark and the acid stink of urine filled the cell. "Please! I've told you all I know! He paid us half in advance and said he wanted the girl alive. I dunno why Pryn had to go and brain her that hard." When it became obvious it was a paladin they were facing, Ned had retreated into the brush, but had stayed to watch the fight in case the outcome had been in the brigand's favour. When Pryn had died on the end of the blond man's sabre, Ned had fled back to his horse and rode off. The deathknight said nothing, only watched him steadily with those glowing, pupilless eyes and pulled the dirk from his bracer. The blade came to rest at Ned's groin and with a flick of his wrist, his breaches split beneath the dirk's wicked edge. "We got the contract in Moonbrook at the Black Dog tavern we were supposed to meet someone at the run down church outside of Goldshire to hand the girl off I never actually saw VanCleef but the guy who hired us was his right-hand he's got a crooked nose brown hair and blue eyes scar on his cheek can't miss him when you see him his name's Stoldt I think." Ned's words were a terrified babble, but Necrucian did not withdraw the blade, letting the cold, sharp steel rest against the flaccid flesh between the man's legs and the hellhound gave a hideous whine of anticipation. "I swear that's all I know!" From the desperate look in the now sobbing man's wide eyes, the deathknight believed him. Necrucian rose slowly and turned, ducking just slightly to keep from striking his forehead on the top of the opened door.
"Wait!" Ned called desperately through a sob "The Defias will get to me when they know I talked! You said you'd give me a quick death!" The undead hound circled him slowly, black ichor dripping from its jaws and its glowing red eyes skewering him. The deathknight stopped and looked over his shoulder at the man.
"I lied." Necrucian began closing the door behind him, leaving Ned and the dog alone. His pitiless bazeturned to the hellhound. "Feast, but take your time." As the door closed behind him, Necrucian heard Ned's scream of terror and heard the chair upend. The terrible wailing and shrieking followed him down the hall and he handed the borrowed dirk to one of the two guards at the end of the corridor. Both men were pale and silent. "There won't be need for a burial." The deathknight told them as he started up the stairs leading out of the dungeon.
"VanCleef?" From the look of pure rage on Wrynn's scarred face, Necrucian guessed the name meant more to Stormwind's king than it did to him. Behind him, Jaina Proudmoore stood in silence.
"He said he was hired by a man named Stoldt in the town of Moonbrook in Westfall." Necrucian offered a sheaf of parchment he had prepared and Varian took the report, pacing the floor of his private audience chamber as he read.
"You take the mercenary at his word, then?" Varian finished reading while Jaina kept glancing at the deathknight as though he were making her uncomfortable.
"Considering I'd removed two of his fingers by the time he started talking, I don't doubt his veracity." Necrucian's matter-of-fact tone in admitting to torture seemed to bother the King not at all, but the woman looked sick and scandalized.
"You did what?" Jaina Proudmoore hoped she had misunderstood or misheard, but from the cold, emotionless bearing of the deathknight, the ruler of Theramore knew his words for the truth. She turned to Varian, appalled "You authorized the torture of a prisoner?"
Varian did not answer and turned his back to them both to look out the immense bank of windows that overlooked the greensward behind the palace. It was a long time before he spoke again. "Thank you, Necrucian. When I have decided how to proceed, I will send for you again." The deathknight saluted and withdrew and Jaina put her arms about herself with a shiver. "You know I've always welcomed your council, Jaina." Wrynn told her coldly as the door closed behind the deathknight "But do not presume to publicly question my decisions."
"Varian, I know you're angry, but torture?" Jaina knew that her old friend was still having trouble reconciling the two halves of himself that Onyxia had torn asunder. She knew he still struggled at times to mesh 'Varian', the thoughtful, kind aspect of himself with 'Lo'gosh', the angry, aggressive berserker that had ruled the gladiatorial pits. This seemed a bit extreme, even for 'Lo'gosh'. "Brutalizing a prisoner can never be justified."
"Can't it?" Wrynn shot back coldly "I will have justice for my daughter, Jaina." Proudmoore knew there would be no arguing with him when his mood was so dark and merely sighed.
"I'll assuming the man is to be hung on the morrow, then?" Jaina shuddered at the thought "He left before the fighting started, did he not?"
"According to Captain Havarbrook, the man fired two shots and only fled after it became apparent that he and his accomplices faced a paladin." Varian crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised a brow. "In the eyes of the law, that makes him just as guilty as the man who felled Taliah." Despite the fact he knew his next words were sure to get a negative reaction, he continued. "The deathknight is nothing if not thorough. A gibbet at dawn won't be necessary."
Jaina felt the blood drain from her face. "He killed him?" she asked, horrified. The memory of look of cold detachment the deathknight had been wearing during his report sent shivers up her back. She'd been made aware of the battle at Light's Hope upon her arrival the day before, and Jaina had deep misgivings as to the fact there were now deathknights free of the Lich King's control. She feared what they were capable of and now she found her fears were justified.
"I judge the matter closed." Considering the deathknight's feelings for the paladin, Varian didn't imagine that Necrucian had made it a quick end, though he found it didn't bother him overmuch. "Jaina, I have a task for you, and I ask this of you as a friend." When it was obvious the sorceress seemed almost afraid to ask, Varian continued. "Taliah's mother still resides in Southshore. I would ask you to bring her here, so she may be with our daughter… in case the worst should happen."
"It will take me a bit to prepare the proper spells, but I would be happy to." It was obvious Jaina was still troubled by the prisoner's treatment and his subsequent end, but she could see it was important to Wrynn that Tetyana know what had happened.
Varian nodded thanks and turned away. "I have matters to attend to and cannot go myself, but I will send some of the King's Own with you." Proudemoore knew a dismissal when she heard it and bowed her head politely before retreating gladly, wanting to put some distance between herself and the still-roiling anger of the king.
The gown was delivered promptly at ten bells, but remained draped upon its dress form, forgotten in a corner of the bedchamber. Necrucian watched from the shadows as one of the physician's assistants helped the older man roll the paladin onto her side so that the wound at the base of her skull could be examined. Despite the ugly black bruising that stretched over the back of her head and down her neck, the deathknight listened to the old man's murmur of satisfaction. The bleeding had indeed been stopped though the swelling was still going down and the old man traced the injury with a wrinkled but sure finger. "She's a tough little thing." Arilius muttered with a shake of his head. "Hard headed, like her father." He stood and gathered up his things and began giving his assistant, a pretty young woman with flaming red hair and smiling green eyes, instructions as he handed her a crock of something that steamed. "Get her to take as much of this as you can. We have to keep her from becoming dehydrated and wasted."
"I'll do that." The deathknight's voice came from the dark corner of Taliah's bedchamber and only the glow of his cerulean eyes was visible in the low light. The young woman glanced at Arilius with uncertainty, but the old man shrugged.
"He's the king's man and a friend of the girl. I see no harm in it." The crock was left on the chair beside the bed and Arilius Traent motioned for his assistant to follow him. "I'll be back by three bells to check on her again."
Necrucian ignored the pair as they left and closed the door behind them. He sat at the paladin's side and removed his gauntlets, crock in one hand, a cloth in the other and he dipped it into the steaming liquid before gently pressing the cloth to Taliah's lips. The deathknight repeated the process until he saw her throat bob in a slow, automatic swallow. They had been in this position before, or near enough to it, aboard the Arcareena after Taliah had gone overboard and drown, only to be revived when Necrucian had forced air once again into her lungs. He hadn't left her side for days after that. "I shouldn't have left your side here, either." Necrucian pressed the cloth gently to Taliah's lips and lamented. The paladin had only months ago knocked him off his horse with a rage-fuelled punch to the jaw as they'd traversed the Plaguelands. Later, she had fought him to a hard-won draw with practice swords in a field by her mother's cottage. Now, she looked like nothing more than a broken doll. Her head was shorn to stubble, the thick ebon curls gone and her normally pale skin gone almost white except for the obscene bruising behind her head.
After he had held her that day by pond in the driving rain and Taliah had put her arms around him and screamed her despair into his chest, Necrucian had kept his distance, troubled by a tumult of emotions he should not be having. He was a deathknight, a soulless instrument of destruction whose only purpose, now that he was free, was to exact vengeance on the Lich King. Back at Chillwind, the High Priestess Jessa MacDonnell had told him he was not beyond kindness and compassion, and that his humanity was not truly lost to him, but what he felt for the oft stubborn and irritating paladin went beyond that.
He cared for her and had, he realized, since the day on the banks of the Thondroril when Taliah had sacrificed of herself to save him. The paladin could have easily done as he'd bid; to take the missives he was carrying and ride on for Southshore with the boy, leaving him to his fate. But she had refused, used Peacemaker to open her palm and let his wounds siphon her blood to the point she'd been physically weakened and lost consciousness. She had risked her life to save the man who had killed her lover, and done so without hesitation. He had not forgotten that it was his hand she had taken, and not her old friend Raleigh's and had clung to him, shivering with bone-numbing cold, as they'd rode to from Tarren Mill.
Varian knew the truth of it. Necrucian did love her.
I should have told you… The last of the warm, nutritious broth disappeared behind Taliah's pale lips and Necrucian wiped her mouth gently but I have no right to. He had killed the man she loved, killed his own wife and child, and while she had forgiven him and he had long ago forgiven himself, it still did not change the fact that his hands were stained with their blood, and that of countless other innocent people. Necrucian had nothing save his sword and the destrier he'd been forced to leave back at Tetyana's cottage in Southshore. The deathknight had no home and he had his doubts as to his ability to sire children. Arthas took everything from me…What could he, as a deathknight, offer her? It mattered little at any rate. Taliah seemed rather taken with Havarbrook. Necrucian did not understand how he even had the capacity to feel anything beyond the burning need for vengeance he'd had to endure for the last eight years. He'd known love as Aaros Marston and was familiar with what the emotion felt like, so try as he might, he could not deny what he felt for the paladin.
"Taliah, can you hear me?" He took her calloused hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The deathknight's hollow, ethereal voice was a strangely tender whisper "I don't want to lose you, paladin. We've been through too much together to part ways like this." Necrucian's thumb stroked over the cool skin of her brow but the paladin did not stir and the deathknight's chest tightened painfully. "You have to wake up…"
How long he'd been there before Gretchen opened the bedchamber door, Necrucian could not say for sure but he judged at least an hour had passed. "I'm sorry to disturb you, m'lord." Despite the fact that nothing showed on the deathknight's face, she felt like she was intruding upon something profoundly intimate. "His Majesty has sent for you." Necrucian said nothing and placed Taliah's hand gently down upon the bed before rising from the chair. As he passed, Gretchen put a hand to his arm. "We'll be moving her from the guest section of the palace to the royal apartments this afternoon. His Majesty believes she will be safer and more comfortable there." The deathknight merely nodded and took his leave, and Gretchen watched him go, tears brimming her eyes.
Necrucian stood before the King in Varian's private audience chambers. Kal Havarbrook stood to one side, looking less than comfortable, and Necrucian ignore the man as though he didn't exist. Jaina Proudmoore, stood behind the king looking troubled and unhappy.
Wrynn's anger seemed to have abated and he spoke calmly "Necrucian, I am sending you with Lady Proudmoore and a handful of guards to Southshore to bring Tetyana back to Stormwind so that she might be with Taliah." .
"It would be my honour to conduct her here. The poor woman will be beside herself with worry as it is." The deathknight replied stoically "But are the shipping lanes between here and the North not closed? It took months to get here, and the weather will be much less cooperative this time." A sudden look of concern flashed over Necrucian's features "And the boy… a journey of that length at this time of year will be hard on him."
"Boy?" Varian blinked blankly at the deathknight. From all Tetyana's letters he'd received over the last few years, she had never once mentioned another child. "I wasn't aware that Tetyana had a son."
"She doesn't." Necrucian's eyes narrowed just slightly, wondering how it was possible that Taliah had failed to mentioned Thomas to Wrynn. "The boy is Taliah's."
Varian sat back in his throne as though someone had just clubbed him. Had Taliah not thought to tell him, or had she withheld the information for some other reason? Wrynn shook his head as though trying to make sense of this new information and felt a sudden tinge of dread creep upon him. "Necrucian… the Foraken took the missives you were to bring me and you said you committed them to memory before leaving Light's Hope."
"I did, your Majesty." The deathknight wasn't sure why he suddenly felt uneasy, but decided it probably had a lot to do with the dawning look of dread upon the king's scarred face.
"Was there any mention of Taliah in any of them?" His fingers flexed, digging into the padded arms of the audience chamber throne. "If they know about her, the boy could be in danger."
"I was not given leave to read the letter Fordring had addressed to you, so I can not guess as to its contents, though it was my understanding that it would see Taliah through the gates of Stormwind and gain us an audience with you." Necrucian wanted to kick himself. At the time, he had not known of Taliah's link to the man he was tasked to deliver the reports to, though when he'd finally seen the two together, it had been easy enough to guess. There was more than a passing resemblance between the paladin and the king. "So yes, Fordring's letter more than likely contained information about Taliah's relationship to you."
Wrynn stood, his expression dire "Then I pray were are not already too late. You'll leave immediately. Be back by nightfall." Jaina and the confused looking deathknight bowed and withdrew, leaving Kal alone with Wrynn.
Havarbrook tried not to look nervous and stood at unmoving attention as his king approached. Wrynn looked the shorter man up and down as though taking the measure of his worth and finding him wanting. "What, exactly" Varian glared down at Kal and Havarbrook felt the cold steel of the man's gaze as though it were a tangible thing "where you thinking when you took my daughter from the protection of the city?" With only seventeen years between the paladin and the king, Kal still had trouble wrapping his head around the fact that Taliah was Varian's daughter.
"Your Majesty, I meant no harm." Havarbrooks throat was dry and he could feel the sweat bead upon his forehead. Dark circles ringed his eyes from lack of sleep and his near-constant badgering of Gretchen for news on Taliah's condition had not left him time to bathe. She'd been ordered not to admit him into the paladin's quarters, but she'd not been barred from keeping the poor man informed. "She seemed so uncomfortable and unhappy here. I only wanted to show her there was more to Stormwind than the city palace walls. I thought, if she could see more, she would-"
"She would what?" Varian asked, and Kal found the quiet menace more disconcerting than had his king been yelling at him. "Give you a tumble like Branigan's girl did? I'm sure your father was overjoyed when he was told you were spending time together."
"It's not like that, your Grace!" Havarbrook protested, trying not to sound as insulted as he felt. "I told him nothing. I've no love for my father, nor he for me."
"And he has less love for Taliah." Varian replied "I find it somewhat convenient that you seem amorously predisposed to the woman who hates your father more than you do. How better to infuriate him than to be seen enjoying the company of the girl who tried to dismember him."
"I love her, your Majesty." Kal's jaw set at a stubborn angle. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. "My father has nothing to do with this."
"You've a poor grasp of what your father is capable of, boy." Varian snorted and stalked to the door and whispered something to the guard in the corridor before he turned his back on Kal. The silence was nearly oppressive until the door opened again and a man in a dark cloak slipped into the room. After a moment, the King addressed the newcomer, who made no attempt to reveal himself. "Tell Captain Havarbrook what you told me."
"Lord Baen Havarbrook seeks to put his bloodline on the throne." The man's voice was as close to obsequious as one could get without actually bending the knee and kissing a boot. "He's had me following you since the day of the runaway in the Trade district. When it became obvious that you were interested in the girl, he arranged to have your section left behind when the Twelfth was mustered to Lakeshire so that you would be able to spend more time pursuing her." When Kal took on a look caught somewhere between sick and outraged, the cloaked man merely shrugged. "It was no secret the girl was lonely and grieving. Convenient she should find someone who would offer an understanding ear, shared her interests and who suddenly had a lot of free time on his hands." The man raised his head just enough that the lower half of his face was visible, and Kal could seem the smirk on his lips. "The plan was elegant enough. Mutual dislike of Lord Havarbrook would bring you together and your charisma and good looks would do the rest. All your father had to do was wait." When Varian held up his hand, Sorus Naveri fell silent.
"That will be all." Naveri bowed taking care that his face was not completely revealed, and withdrew. Wrynn looked over his shoulder to Kal, who stood blank faced and sweating as though he were about to vomit.
"It would not surprise me if the attack was orchestrated by your father through the Defias." The king's cold demeanour had not changed. "What better way to bond two soldiers than to have them fight at each other's side?"
"No." Kal shook his head, but his voice lacked true conviction "My father is many things, but he would not conspire against the throne." The mere thought that his father might actually be responsible for the attack that had left Taliah comatose made him ill.
"Wouldn't he? Ambitious men are dangerous." Wrynn asked dryly. "You are a lucky man, Captain Havarbrook. If Highlord Fordragon had not personally vouched for your character, you would be enjoying the hospitality of the stockades." Varian walked across the room to stand before the Captain and looked down at him. "Instead, when the deathknight returns from the task I have given him, you will accompany Necrucian to Westfall, and you will find the man who hired the swords and sent them after Taliah."
"Just the two of us, your Majesty?" Kal had spent much of the last three years patrolling in and around Westfall and knew the area well. The prospect of going to Westfall, a place crawling with the remnants of the Stonemason's Guild who had no love for anything bearing Stormwind's sigil, with a man who could reanimate the dead and seemed to blame him for Taliah's injuries, was not exactly appealing. It was however, his king's command, and he was eager to bring whoever had hired the mercenaries to justice. If that someone happened to be his father, as Wrynn suspected, Kal Havarbrook would haul the man before his king in chains.
"If I send in a troops waving the colours, the Defias will crawl back beneath the rotting log they hide beneath. If I send two, one who knows the terrain and one who will scare the shit out of any man with sense, I think this matter will be resolved more quickly." Varian waved away the man's concerns "The deathknight should be back by nightfall, and you'll leave on the morrow. Draw what kit you need and be ready."
"As you command, your Grace." Kal raised his chin and saluted, keeping the apprehensive look from his face only with effort.
"How, precisely, are we going to get to Southshore and back by nightfall?" Necrucian stood in the courtyard at Jaina's side. Five of the King's Own flanked them silently and the sorceress gave the deathknight a hint of a smile.
"I've been to the garrison in Southshore many times, so I can open a portal from here to there. It'll be quick and easy." The deathknight gave her a dubious look. The grip of Redemption, his massive two-handed greatsword, poked up from behind his shoulder and Jaina frowned "I don't think there's any need to be armed, though. I'm not sure why Varian thought the guards were necessary."
"Just concern yourself with getting us there, my Lady." Necrucian replied coolly and Jaina tried not to look. Her blue eyes slitted while her hands rose slowly as she spoke the incantation in a soft but clear voice. The deathknight could almost feel the air around them grow heavy with arcane energy as the portal began to take shape before them. Slowly, a view of the garrison's courtyard began to appear within the portal and the men on the other side, dressed in leather and furs against the cold, drew closer, weapons drawn and wary.
"We'll go first." Lieutenant Garvy offered. He and his men were dressed in boiled leather and chainmail, with heavy fur cloaks that were making them sweat under the nearly-noon sun. "A friendly face bearing the King's colours might be better received than a deathknight in black." Considering that the men of the garrison had not exactly welcomed him when he and the paladin had stayed there previously, Necrucian did not argue. Lieutenant Garvy and his men disappeared one by one through the mirror-like portal. When it became clear that their surprise guests were from Stormwind, the guards welcomed them with handshakes and claps on the shoulder, but no such greeting was forthcoming for the deathknight. As he stepped from warm, gentle spring into brutal winter, many of the garrison troops who'd been welcoming the King's Own became decidedly uneasy. Jaina stepped through behind him and Necrucian heard a familiar voice boom out in the cold.
"Lady Proudmoore, it's been far too long." Sir Raleigh's gruff voice cut through the blisteringly chill air as he waded through the curious troops to bow graciously before the sorceress. Raleigh straightened, pulling the hood of his bearskin cloak over his head to ward off the bitter wind and offered his hand to the deathknight who clasped the man's forearm in a warrior's greeting. "Necrucian. I trust your mission was successful?"
"Aye, it went well enough." The deathknight replied. Raleigh looked over Necrucian's shoulder and then looked around. "Taliah didn't return with you?"
"That's why we're here, Sir Raleigh." Jaina pulled her heavy lambswool cloak about herself. "Taliah's been injured and we've come to bring her mother to Stormwind. If you could loan us a few horses, we'd be most grateful."
From the grim look on the visitors' faces and the purpose of their arrival, Raleigh guessed the paladin's injuries were great. "You'll have them, my Lady." He assured her "Tetyana was in town with the boy not three days ago. The lad's growing like a weed."
Jaina glanced at Necrucian, but the deathknight said nothing. Horses were brought forth with an extra for Raleigh and they set out through the garrison's portcullis. The wind whipped the powder kicked up by the horses into an almost blinding cloud about them. The sky was clear as crystal, the stars shining brightly and the cold made Jaina's eyes water, freezing the tears to her pale gold lashes as they rode. She fondly remembered winters in Dalaran, made mild and pleasant through sorcery, and wondered how the small town could endure such harsh conditions. It was still only early in the winter, but the snow was already up to the horses' knees. She prodded her mount alongside Necrucian's and reached out to put a hand on his arm. "Why wouldn't Taliah tell her father about the child?"
"No idea, but I'm sure she had her reasons." Necrucian had seen the reproachful look Jaina had given him in the audience chamber and had no illusions as to its cause, but the deathknight could not have cared less.
"You could have mentioned it. Had Varian known, he would have sent for me sooner." She protested. Their pace was causing the horses to sweat and white vapour rose into the air about them like a cloud. The deathknight's eyes were narrowed in what looked like irritation, but Jaina persisted. "The boy could be in terrible danger."
"She figured he'd be safer with her mother than on a ship, and considering the hell we went through to get to Stormwind, the paladin was right." Necrucian's tone was brusque, and his hands tightened on the reins.
Jaina watched as the deathknight grew tenser, his eyes sweeping the forest as though he could sense something she could not. "What's wrong?"
"Something isn't right." He could feel the taint of undeath blowing on the wind. The deathknight could sense when the undead were near, and he immediately feared for Tetyana. He looked back at the lieutenant and motioned towards the still distant cottage with a wave of his mailed hand "I can feel the presence of Forsaken…"
Kormak slipped around the side of the disgustingly cheerful looking cottage. While it was still early in the afternoon, the sun set early in the winter and the light was already low. The weather over the last week had done its best to spite him, as had the foul tempered grey beast that stalked the cottage's paddock. Once he secured the boy he had but to use the silver amulet about his neck, given to him by the Dark Lady herself, to return to the ruins of Lordaeron's once great capitol. It had been easy enough to find the Dawnstar woman's house from the map he had stolen from the city archives the night before, and he was confident she would pose little problem to dispatch or subdue To keep from alerting the roving patrols that left the garrison at all hours like bees from a hive, the undead scout had come alone and he was now questioning the wisdom of his plan.
Valiant stretched and shook himself in the run-in shed, grunting as he pulled himself upright. While he still needed nearly ten stone worth of weight, the stallion's knees and hooves had finally healed and no longer pained him. The destrier looked more yak than finely-bred equine, his winter coat grown out thick and shaggy to ward off the cold and wind. He shared the shed with a cow and long-yearling calf, though only grudgingly and on more than one occasion had shoved them out into the cold so that he could stretch his length in the fresh hay Tetyana put down every morning. The Carlsons had been kind enough, ministering to his wounds and filling his bucket full of warm bran and apple mash every night, but they were not Taliah. After Valiant had jumped the eight foot fence in the stallion paddock for the fourth time and destroyed the stall they had try to confine him in, Tetyana had decided to take him before he injured himself or one of his caregivers. By the end, the Carlsons had been more than happy to see him go.
He could hear Acharon pacing restlessly in the barn and the grey stallion poked his head out the shed's doorless opening. As the wind hit him full in the face, his nostrils flared and he caught the scent; the stink of tainted and desiccated human flesh. The grey destrier knew the aroma only too well – the scent of the undead – and from the restless snorting coming from the barn, he knew Acharon could smell it as well. Valiant strode out into the paddock, the wind whipping through his mane and tail, and he followed his nose to the far west corner. The snow was pristine this far from the gate and the hay and Valiant pushed through the chest-high drifts until he butted up against the fence. With a disdainful snort, the destrier gathered his hindquarters beneath him, bounded over the rails with little effort and continued to follow the fetid smell.
The cold had no effect on Kormak, and shrouded in white as he was, he was nearly invisible against the snow as he crouched by the end of the woodpile. The scout was patient as he waited for the lamplight in the cottage's windows to extinguish. The wind was in his face, cold and biting, and Kormak was thankful hypothermia was something he no longer had to concern himself with. As he considered the rewards awaiting him when he delivered the whelp to his Dark Lady, the scout didn't see the big grey head poke around the corner of the cottage some ten yards behind him. It was only when the horse exploded after him, bawling like a demon, that the scout nearly leapt out of his rotting skin.
Valiant's ears were pinned against his skull, his jaws open and teeth bared, his brown eyes red-rimmed and burning in hatred. There were many things the stallion disliked, but the undead were his least favourite of all. They were unnatural, savage and soulless, and nothing pleased him more than tearing at them with his teeth and hammering them with his sharp hooves. The Forsaken whirled in surprise as the destrier bore down on him and the daggers on his bony hips cleared leather. Valiant heard Acharon's ethereal bugle from the barn and heard the splinter of wood as the undead stallion ploughed through the stall and then the barn locked door itself.
Thomas sat curled in Tetyana's lap as she cuddled him. They sat by the hearth in the rocking chair as she used to with Taliah when the paladin had been the boy's age. She was in the midst of telling him a tale of a race between a fox and a dwarf when the sudden sound of Valiant's angry bellow, like a thing from nightmare, came from the rear of the cottage. Thomas, who had been sleepy and dressed for bed, clung to Tetyana in terror, his blue eyes wide. She slid from the chair and set him on the floor where he clung to her skirts, his black lashes spiked with tears. Even through the wall of the cottage, she could hear the stallion's hooves thudding upon the ground in an angry tattoo and occasionally heard the snap of his crushing teeth.
"Grama?" Thomas tugged at her skirts as she took the crossbow from its place on the mantel and slung a quiver of quarrels over her shoulder. She heard Acharon's muted call and rushed to the window overlooking the paddock in time to see him charge through the barn doors as though it were made of balsawood.
"It's probably just a mountain cat." Tetyana replied uncertainly. Valiant had no love of the big predators and had jumped the paddock fence not a week before to attack one who had dared to come out of the tree line in hopes of taking her gentle bay palfrey. By the time she had run from the cottage with the crossbow, Valiant had chased the thing up a tree where Tetyana had feathered it with quarrels. "Thomas, stay inside." The boy looked terrified at the prospect of being left alone, but as Tetyana threw on a cloak and opened the door, she could see riders coming up the road at a gallop. Unable to identify them in the failing light, Tetyana closed the door and barred it shut.
Even in the fading light, Jaina could see the dark form of a horse smashing through the barn door. It crossed the long paddock in a few dozen strides and soared over the fence before disappearing behind the cottage. Something dressed in white and barely discernable as humanoid against the snow bolted from behind the woodpile next to the home. Two horses, one grey as storm clouds and the other black as pitch doggedly pursued it. Beside her, Necrucian swore and his massive blade came free as he spurred his mount hard in pursuit. Jaina broke off with him and waved her hand. The deathknight could feel the air crackle with arcane energy and the fleeing figure's feet were abruptly encased in jagged blocks of ice, anchoring them to the ground. Even from forty yards, Jaina could see the sickly yellow glow of the intruder's eyes from beneath his hood and felt a stab of revulsion and fear.
Unable to move, Kormak reached into his belt, yanked a small glass phial free and twisted around, launching it at the two snapping, striking horses that were almost on him. The grey shied as the phial hit him square in the face and exploded, sending a cascade of fine powder swirling through the air. The wind carried the irritating, blinding particles to the black as well and the two big animals crashed into each other as they threw their heads and blinked in pain. The stallions went to their knees and thrust their faces into the snow, desperate to rid themselves of the burning irritation in their eyes and nostrils.
Necrucian bore down upon the Forsaken scout and as the undead turned himself about to face him, the deathknight recognized him as the same wretch who'd tormented him in Tarren Mill. From the way Kormak's eyes narrowed, Necrucian was sure the Forsaken recognized him as well. The deathknight bared his teeth, his eyes blazing a cold blue and as he drew within striking distance, both of his hands gripped Redemption and held the sword low and to the side. Necrucian was almost on him, ready to bisect the Forsaken from groin to skull, when the scout reached into his cloak, squeezed his eyes shut and disappeared. The resounding 'CRACK!' of his disappearance echoed through the dusking sky and left a billowing puff of blue-black smoke behind. The deathknight's blade found only empty air and he swore in terms so vile Jaina wanted to cover her ears. Necrucian wheeled his mount, ignoring Acharon and Valiant who still rubbed their faces in the snow, and rode back to the cottage. He jabbed a finger at Lieutenant Garvy "Search the area. If there are other Forsaken here, I want them alive." The lieutenant looked to Jaina, unsure if he should be taking orders from the unranked deathknight, but the sorceress nodded in silent ascent and Garvy and his men split into two small groups and began to search the woods.
The windows were dark when Necrucian reached out to try the door, fearing the worst. As his hand set upon the latch, the door was yanked open and instead of the carnage he feared, the deathknight was met with a fierce-looking Tetyana brandishing the business end of a crossbow in his direction. Her hazel eyes went from ferocious to surprised in a blink. "Necrucian?" The crossbow lowered and she set it upon the floor as she rushed to embrace the deathknight. "What's going on? I heard-" The woman's brow furrowed when she set eyes upon Jaina and she stepped around Necrucian to look out the door. "Taliah isn't with you?"
"Tetyana." The deathknight nearly tripped when Thomas latched onto his leg in a happy hug and he took the woman gently by the shoulders "I've come to bring you to Stormwind. Taliah's been injured." From the grave look on the deathknight's face and his stoic tone, Tetyana knew her daughter's situation must be dire. "Gather what you need, but we must leave immediately. We drove off a Forsaken scout when we arrived, but more might be on the way."
Despite the flurry of questions he saw in her eyes, Tetyana asked him nothing more. Jaina helped her gather a few articles of clothing and some belongings while Necrucian went behind the cabin to collect his destrier. I beg a favour of you, Knight. Watch over her…the memory of Tetyana's words to him brought an almost physical pain. He had failed to protect Taliah, letting the emotional discomfort he should not even be feeling drive him away, and the paladin had paid dearly for it. As he walked around the only slightly diminished pile of wood he had months ago stacked against the side of the cottage, he heard an ethereal nicker of greeting. Acharon slogged through the trampled snow to his master and the deathknight gave the beast a firm pat upon its dark, arched neck. As though he also thought the deathknight guilty of something unspeakable, Valiant pinned his ears and tossed his head in a not-so-subtle threat and did not approach. "Nice to see you too." The deathknight muttered.
A search of the woods found nothing, but everyone worked quickly anyway. Raleigh, Necrucian and the two of the King's Own had quickly managed a somewhat competent if quick patch on the damaged barn and the old paladin had accepted Tetyana's offer of use of her cottage in exchange for caring for her livestock. The deathknight had reclaimed his gear from the barn and Acharon looked a great deal more fearsome tacked up than he had naked. The only difficulty they encountered was Valiant who, true to his nature, had led Lieutenant Garvy and his men on a merry chase about the property until one of his men had managed to get a rope on him. Another rope had followed and two of the King's Own flanked the unruly grey destrier, keeping the ropes tight so that the unruly stallion could not snap at them. Bundled in wool and furs, Tetyana rode behind Necrucian upon Acharon while Thomas rode huddled in Jaina's cloak. He had been quiet and withdrawn after his grandmother had explained that Taliah was hurt and that they were going to visit her to help her get better. Necrucian remembered the boy as normally chatty and inquisitive, but the child had say nothing since they'd left the cottage.
Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the garrison, and the original portal the sorceress had opened was long since evaporated into nothingness. While Jaina prepared to cast the intricate spell again, Raleigh put a hand to Necrucian's shoulder. "Taliah will be in my prayers. May the Light bless and heal her. If…" Raliegh shook his head "No… when she awakens, send word to us here? The troops still fondly remember her drunken singing in the tavern."
"I will tell her you send greetings and well-wishes when she awakens." The deathknight replied "And I will send you word… no matter the outcome." The portal crackled to life and Raleigh said his farewells to Tetyana and Thomas as they stepped through. Acharon was next, entering without fuss, but Valiant refused to move. Despite two ropes about his neck, one around his rump and five large, strong men hauling on them, the destrier refused to budge.
"Bloody hell." Lieutenant Garvy spat in exasperation "Can we not just leave the bastard here?" Valiant stood tall, head in the air and at an arrogant angle as though appalled that he should have to suffer such indignation. When the garrison sergeant in charge of the stables suggested a good whipping, Necrucian knew such treatment would only cause the imperious animal to explode like a powderkeg.
"I can't sustain the portal much longer, Necrucian." Jaina warned and watched as the deathknight's pale lips pursed, as though considering his options before a cold, sharp smile twisted his mouth. Necrucian crouched and gathered up an enormous handful of snow, packing it into a ball nearly the size of a human head. He took his time, gauging distance and how much force he would need, and then drew back his arm and then let fly.
The snowball exploded between Valiant's eyes, momentarily blinding him, and the stallion snorted and shook his head as he reared in anger. His eyes were still stinging from the blinding powder and this was now insult heaped upon injury. When his vision cleared, the destrier's gaze locked on the smirking deathknight and the stallion lunged forward with a snarl, his teeth bared and ears flattened to his skull. His sharp hooves kicked up snow and dirt as he bore down on Necrucian who stepped back through the portal. Jaina watched wide-eyed as the stallion swept by, dragging the King's Own behind him. The scene on the other side of the portal was one of pure chaos as the destrier continued his pursuit of the deathknight around the courtyard until Necrucian was forced to retreat into the palace. Jaina gave the old paladin a chagrined look "I'm sorry for all the trouble, Sir Raleigh. Thank you again for your aid." As she stepped through the portal, she could hear the gales of laughter from the Southshore garrison until the swirling, magical aperture closed.