BLOOD LEPRECHAUN by J Cae
You don't know, I won't let you see me
I will hide and I will lie as true as can be.
You just don't have what it would take
To be a part of me
Lara Fabian, "Part of Me"
CHAPTER TEN: BETRAYED
(NORTHREND, 13 YEARS AGO)
Awaken. Awaken, student.
With much difficulty, she forced her eyes to open. White lights invaded her world and burnt her eyes with such fury it almost undone her. Held fettered by her agony, her mind refused to work and she could not make out what she saw.
Lips-frosted, bloodless and barely moving-curled into a sinister snarl she was so accustomed to seeing every waking hour. His face was concealed forever behind his cold metal visor. But he was speaking in her head, his voice so loud and disruptive to the blissful oblivion she was dwelling, his voice the only sound she could hear.
Rise, demon child.
The six-year-old did not know his name. She had been instructed to call him 'master'. He had been her caregiver ever since she was lulled back to life by that strange baritone, that half-whisper that resonated in her nightmares. Once again, she woke to find herself in the same white place, devoid of all warmth and life. No traces of the home she once knew were present in the frigid air.
Her severed arm dangled useless from her shoulder, held in place only by a thin strip of flesh that threatened to give way. She did not cry. She was too young to understand what he had done to her, but she was, perhaps, still young enough to trust her instinct.
She did not like him.
It hurts, does it not?
White long hair fell in tendrils in front of his silver visor as he leaned forward to look her in the eye. Blue streaks of fuming aura escaped from his empty sockets. The gleam of sincere anger pained her eyes, and she longed to look away. But he overpowered her, forced her to hold still with his telepathy. It was not long before she conceded defeat, remaining motionless. Her face was that of a child's, but the haunting sombreness on it was well beyond her years.
The only pain she felt was from the biting cold that cut into her flesh. Slowly, she tried to nod, but her lying position made the movement difficult.
But he prodded her mind and pulled her up, ignoring her feeble cries as he handled her wounds roughly. Betrayal hurts, this time, his bloodless lips moved elaborately. Learn your lesson well.
She nodded again, her head dropped in one curt motion like a rag doll that sacked from its master's grip. She understood nothing, but she only knew that by giving him what he demanded would stop the torment. Somehow, he always seemed to be able to read her intentions, and he would abuse her for as long as her young mind could take before finally releasing her from his telekinesis.
That was how much you hurt me, the anger receded from his voice, although not the iciness. Betrayal is a cripple, Elma. Never do it again.
He took her severed limp in his cold grasp and placed an enchantment upon the wound. Flesh sealed, leaving no scar on her tender skin. Blood pumped through the damaged arm again and colour and senses returned to it. But the three fingers that were severed with one swipe of his sword were still absent.
I will not heal them, he told her sternly, once again, looking into her thoughts. This is a lesson you must never forget, student.
The child barely heard him. Her mind wandered as soon as he released her from his telepathy. She sought anything to fortify her mental freedom…listened to the creaking of icicles as the wind moaned against it, the soft requiem of the drifting snow, the frozen seas weeping…
Just remember- I am your master, and I am the only one who can help you.
(DALARAN, PRESENT)
"And you dare call yourself a healer!"
"You have no idea what this is to me!" Zypporah wrenched her apron in her sweaty palms. She did not feel the tears rolling down her cheeks until her husband's clumsy fingers moved to wipe them away. But she turned her head and dried her eyes with the back of her hand. Pride would not allow her to weep in front of that shabby elf rider. "To refuse to save a life when I know full well I have the skill to restore it-I cannot in good conscience do that. But if I heal her, hundreds more will suffer. You cannot be so cruel to fault me for this."
"How can you say something like this-" but Khecomo's tone dropped, anger fading. He himself had wanted Leprecha dead but a moment ago. How could he not understand the destructive plague that the girl unleashed upon the villagers to rob them of their peace. "What if I make her promise she would waive the debt? Would you heal her?"
"Oh, if only it could be so simple, we would have done that long ago-" said the tavern-keeper. "She does not need the money-but she knows we need it. The Highest Light forgive me for saying this, but we should have burned her after she used that dreadful spell-"
"No, my dear," Zypporah pressed her hand firmly on her husband's shoulder and forbade him from continuing. "Do not speak so harshly." She cast her glance to the floor for a moment and breathed a sigh. Hesitantly, she nodded to Khec, "Very well then. I will look at your sorceress. But from what you are telling me, it might be beyond my skill."
"Zypporah, do you truly consider healing her after all that she had done?" her husband halted her. He was more confused than surprised of her choice.
"I am a healer," the woman whispered, darkly. "And after all, she had once saved us from a raid."
She moved from behind the counter of the tavern and followed as the rider waved for her to follow him impatiently. She hated his haughtiness and loathed the one she was about to heal more, but such was her choice. Without a word, she hurried after him, and they ran to the ruin site where Khec had left the sorceress with Kael...
...only to find that they were gone.
An ominous shadow fell across the bleeding body of the leprechaun. Kael'thas lifted his eyes to behold a hideous figure that intercepted the light. Her obsidian armour reflected nothing even as the sun caught on its surface. Her dark green hair flowed to her waist like a polluted river. Two scrawny black arms protruded in wrong directions, their claws menacingly sharp. A third arm was the shape of a curved blade, its surface rusted with dried, dark blood. The helmet enclosed her features to that they were impenetrable—her eyes were so deep Kael suddenly wondered if she had a head.
He drew back in fright, wrapping the sorceress tighter in his arms.
He recognized this horrific visitation now, the same monster who fought on the enemies' side while Sylvanas, Illidan and himself struggled to push Ner'zhul's craven forces back from the seashore thirteen years ago. He had not seen her since, but he knew immediately, that she was the one whom they called Black Warden, the walking nightmare. Her terrible stature that towered over him seemed almost alive-he could hear her loud and steady heartbeats-thud thud, thud thud.
Two hearts that beat in synchrony.
"Why should you fear me?" she asked. She spoke in Kaldorei-he had heard her voice somewhere before. "You know me. We have once fought Illidan on the same side."
"I have no business with you, you being of evil!" Kael knew he would be testing her limits-if there was to be a duel between them, let it be swift. He had little idea how strong his enemy was, or if he would be able to hold out against her. But he did not care to know.
"Oh, but have you not served Kil'jaeden, Illidan and Sylvanas? All three of them are more terrible than I am, do you not think?" Mirthless chuckles escaped from her helmet-they sounded strangely hollow, "No, Lord Kael. You have only forgotten who I once was. But let us put the past behind. You have served Kil'jaeden and became a blood-lusty demon worshipper, just as I have become something different. We are even in those terms. But let me tell you, that it was I who provided you with your troops to march to the Undercity. I can grant you more-you need but say so."
"Davita!" Kael instinctively looked around for Khecomo who had been gone for quite a while. He almost had a moment of regret for what he said to the rider and wished that he would turn up soon. "My guard will return any moment now. You best keep your distance!"
"I don't think so," the Black Warden shook her head. "I don't think it possible to find a healer who would save Elma. The villagers all hate her. They would rejoice had she died. Sad to say that Leprecha has made herself as many enemies as did her late master-one can expect no less from the student of Ner'zhul."
Kael wished he had thought of that. He could see her reason. Leprecha did not seem the type who would ever be grateful enough to waive the villagers' debts-they surely had no reason to wish her alive.
But could he hope?
"The child will die, and I will let her die-unless you wish for her to live," there was something in her tone he found cynical-perhaps not only her tone. Her whole being conveyed of corruption, "Just say so, and I will tell you a way to save her."
He trusted her about as far as her bony fingers could reach, and yet he was beginning to be convinced that she harboured no hostile intention in her visit. Perhaps she was not here to bring him harm. He knew she would have smote him long ago while he had been caught up in his grief and unaware of her presence-she need not have waited. "Speak frankly and quit playing games with me," he demanded. "What is it that you want?"
"You see, I have what you need-troops large enough to take on the Dark Lady's legion, guides who are familiar with the Undercity. I can help you rescue your people."
He repeated firmly, "Speak frankly! What is it that you want?"
"I need you to draw Illidan out so that I can kill him."
"No."
"You wouldn't call him a friend, would you? What difference does it make?"
"No, you can't make me do that. If I am to help you kill him, I would need a reason."
Her bent forward to close her claw around Elma's neck, "The girl dies then-that is your reason!"
"No!"
A blast of black energy erupted, and the Warden withdrew her hand in pain. Her features suddenly became visible behind her helmet as she scowled hatefully at Kael-but the expression smothered as quickly as it came and she donned her mask of torture pain again, "But what would you not give to save her life? What would you not give to return your people to safety? I can grant you both, and I only ask you to locate the Betrayer for me. Is it too much to ask for?"
Stunned by what he had seen beneath the helm, Kael was now even more hesitant to do her bidding, "Why? Why do you want me to help you? Isn't there some others you can bother, who can tell you where Illidan is?" But the answer came to him almost immediately as he was asking his questions, "You want Elma alive as well, or you would not have come to make such an offer of me. Why is it so?"
Silence. Kael could hardly tell if the mutated night elf was ready to pounce on him, or if she was about to leave, "You can say that the sorceress and I are allies with similar vision but different goals."
The woman paused there. Kael waited, but realized she was not going to continue, "And?"
"And her skill as a sorceress is greatly prized."
Objection formed on the elf king's lips when Davita added hurriedly as though she knew she had not convinced him, "Her parentage-surely you knew of her father and how craven demons all desire her power. If her soul is allowed to be taken from her, just imagine the havoc that would cause."
"True, but that does not mean you persuaded me to help you kill Illidan."
The Black Warden choked back a low, dangerous growl. She shook her head twice to clear her head, as though that sound had not come to her voluntarily. She reminded him of an animal-a tortured prey fettered fast by a hunter's web and could but occasionally muster strength to struggle. Kael backed away from her, carrying Elma in his arms. Oh, how much time had been wasted? How much longer could she hold on? Where was Khec?
"The vile Betrayer is worthy of no man's defence!" cried the Black Warden as she stepped forward to retain him. "Have you seen him these past thirteen years? Do you know how he corrupted the Kaldorei? How he tainted Tyrande, our most beloved leader? He has changed into something even viler, and even now he runs rampant to the Night Elf villages and bewitched the Priestess to shelter him!"
Kael paused, his jaw hung agape though no words escaped. This information was too much and too sudden. It was only after a few seconds when he blurted out an attempt for a question, "What?"
"Yes, yes," Davita breathed, her voice evidently calmer. "It is true, what I tell you. The Betrayer must be stopped, Kael."
"I don't believe you!" the elf king shook his head, turning to run. "Back away from me, hellish fiend! Take away your lies!"
The Warden vanished, only to reappear seconds later to bar his path, "See for yourself! You didn't believe Sylvanas could have become so vile either." She created a portal behind Kael who was trapped between her and her power. He attempted to move away, but the wayward energies that swirled around the portal were much too chaotic he feared it might do Elma damage had he attempted to break through.
"Go and see for yourself!" the Black Warden repeated, and giving him a hard shove, she pushed him through the portal.
When the energies dissipated, Kael found himself within a stone-walled maze, lit only by suffocating torches that looked as though they were about to die out. He had no idea where he was, although the awful stench of excrement or decay told him something he needed to know. The Black Warden was still in front of him, her dark and offensive form moving swiftly down the hallway. He had no choice but to follow her.
He could feel Elma's life ebbing further away from his embrace. He held on tight to her as though he could somehow hold her together from falling apart. He bid the Black Warden hurry-if she wanted his help in finding Illidan, she had best find a healer swiftly.
A shadow approached to greet them from the other side of the hall, confident strides that sounded vaguely familiar.
"By Elune, Davita. You are back."
A...night elf?
"Mistress Shadowsong," the Black Warden bowed low with genuine reverence. "There has been an emergency, and I need your aid. I would not have returned otherwise until my mission is accomplished." She indicated a barely conscious Elma in Kael's arms. "She needs your skills. She needs your care. It would not do if the Master finds out that she sustained...damage." She stopped short. Kael was too caught up in his anxiety to hear her little secret, although in retrospect, he should have been more cautious of their ulterior motives.
"I see..." came the composed reply as though nothing could surprise her any longer. "Very well then. Take her to my room. Ah, a guest here."
"Yes, Mistress. I forgot to introduce us-this is Kael'thas Sunstrider, King of Quel'dara."
"Well met," the night elf stepped forward from the shade into the torchlight. "I am Rue Wyena Shadowsong. Although you are a guest here-and an exalted one, I regret I must make you say an oath that you are never to repeat what you see or hear during your stay." She was an aged one. Even though time had no effect over her, her forehead was starting to line with stress, and her unruly light blue hair that cascaded down to her waist seemed to frame only a despaired face. All that he saw was a withered woman who seemed exhausted-not a trust-worthy face.
Kael demanded quickly, "I will make no promises until I know whose side you are on." He had dealt with Vashj and her trickery before, lamentably. He knew he should not fall for the same old tricks again.
Rue Wyena turned her head. Half-cloaked in shadows, Kael thought he imagined a vicious expression upon her face. "The priestesses-they are enemies to Davita and all those who attempt to help her. They see her as a monster, but they do not realize the truth-they are far more corrupted. A shame they call themselves followers of the loving Mother Moon."
"Tyrande Whisperwind and Kirah Greenstar are both determined to see me dead," the Black Warden added bleakly. "Well, the latter has always been cold, but Tyrande used to be kind to me."
"If it was not for the Betrayer's evil influence," added Rue Wyena heatedly. The anger in her voice signified the end of the discussion.
Could Rue Wyena and Davita both be lying? Or had they staged this little drama just for his sake? But time was pressing. He was certain Elma could not wait, "All right then. I will swear secrecy if you can help Elma-but first, tell me where we are." The sorceress's feeble frame weighed far less than the anguish that burnt in his heart, her blood soaking through his tunic, her blood leaving a trail behind them, her blood poisoning his skin.
"You are in the Barrow Deeps-above us is where the night elves dwell," the Black Warden replied as she motioned down the hallway. "Bring the girl this way."
No sunlight passed through to the caverns deep underground, shrouded in gloom as though to foreshadow unspeakable sorrows. Kael tried not to allow the miserable surroundings affect him, but even given his ancestors' former Kaldorei heritage, he had never been at ease in the dark. Unlike the two wardens who moved swiftly and easily as though they were born to darkness, he paced cautiously through the shadow-draped hallways, deep into the dungeons underground.
He followed them into an antechamber where there was no furnishing except for a bed. Even without touching it, Kael judged the surface to be so hard he could place a goblet full of wine without fear of spilling its contents. But this was Rue Wyena's room, or so he had been told. He judged it was the Warden women's habit to lodge in beds as hard as tables so that they would not sleep too deep and forget to be vigilant.
Kael placed Elma on the bed as instructed. The Light was being merciful to her she was still insensible as Rue Wyena peeled off her blood-soaked clothes. Kael had to avert his gaze as the many scars gaped back at him to remind him of the oath he failed to carry out. The smear of blood amplified the gash horribly. Rue Wyena tore a strip of bandage to clean the wound. The stroke was an inch under the girl's heart, parallel to her ribs.
Without slowing to hesitate, the warden recited an enchantment Kael recognized to be a cleansing spell. More blood gushed from the opening, oozing out any contamination that might culture inflammation. Then, she double cast healing spells to mend the damage. The wound closed but did not fade. It was likely to leave another scar, yet another token of Kael's failure.
"I have healed much of the damage," the old warden turned to Kael when she was finished." Her own powers will do the rest. It will take a while for her strength to recoup. I will give her a draught to help her sleep."
"Thank you for all you have done," Kael dipped his knee-no other responses seemed more appropriate to express his gratitude and relief that he had not come all the way to Kalimdor for naught. Perhaps the wardens could be trusted, and what they said was true.
No. He kicked himself inwardly for loosening his guard. Their healing Elma meant nothing. They needed her alive regardless what their schemes for Illidan were. They needed her to be on their side, and that was likely why they provided Kael the troops he needed to rescue his people. They needed to bribe him to keep Elma on their side.
But why? For what reason? Did they need her to battle Illidan? He attempted to work out an explanation, but suddenly he found himself too drowsy to think. His head hurt abominably as though it was not Leprecha who had taken a knife in her ribs but himself.
'King Kael?" Davita appeared in front of him, concern in her voice.
"I am sorry. I wasn't paying attention."
"Are you all right? Can I get you some food?"
It was true he had not eaten since he agreed to go to the ruins with Elma, and how long had that been since? He did not know if it was the unsettling appearance of the Black Warden or the vile stench in the Barrow Deeps, or if it indeed was due to the revelation of Illidan's new corruption-all appetite fled from him and he felt he could retch even at the taste of the finest cuisine in all of Azeroth.
"You must be weary-it had been a trying time," someone spoke. Kael could not make out who the voice belonged to. His visions swam before him. Somehow, he had the impression that the speaker was neither of the wardens in the room.
"…first room to your right …outside…"
He could not answer them, and only followed the black shape of Davita as she shepherded him to a dim room. He did not even remember hitting the mattress, but the last realization that dawned on his mind before everything faded to black was...
...sleep enchantment.
Kael'thas
Kael was startled from his sleep. This voice-he knew this voice. It had haunted him often in his dreams he might as well still be slumbering away. But his consciousness was elsewhere, in a bleak world with nothing but her voice to fill the void. She was everything.
Of all deceivers and charlatans, you choose to leave yourself in the mercy of those two. Kael, love, I think I've overestimated your intelligence.
"Sylvanas! How did you know..." he caught himself. Of course. Over the years, her telepathy must have strengthened. Besides, who could say how her merging with Ner'zhul had affected her.
Hush. I once swore that I would never prod your mind. Forgive me, but I must speak with you. Be warned. The wardens have ulterior motives for Elma.
No. This could not be the Sylvanas who had become Ner'zhul! There was no hostility in her voice. No danger. Only concern. "I don't understand. What happened to you, Sylvanas?"
This isn't the time. You've just placed the girl in grave danger.
"In danger?" Kael would have been frowning with his non-existing brows. "From whom? From Illidan?"
But the Dark Lady of his dreams evaded his questions, Don't let her take any food or potions from Rue Wyena.
"The sleeping draught! It's too late!" To think that he had thanked the sage for her aid before he knew what exactly the concoction could do! Kael'thas was such a careless fool!
Have a care next time, advised Sylvanas. And never let her out of your sight.
He took a moment to compose himself. No. He could not associate this voice with the monstrosity that invaded his castle and enslaved his people. He could not envision how that murderous fiend could have been the same as his lover in the first place. He felt safe now to say that the burning and killing were Ner'zhul's doing, and somewhere out there, Sylvanas was still herself though unable to come home. Now more than ever, he was convinced that the one whom he saw Quel'dara was a contender who walked in the shape and form of the one he loved most.
"Sylvanas, please tell me what is happening! I know your voice! I know you-this is you, whom I love. Please tell me where you are!"
I told you, this is not the time. Wait until Elma wakes, and stay with her, the Dark Lady faded rapidly from his sleep, peeling her presence like a blanket off of him and leaving him exposed to the chill. She needs you now. Go to her.
"My love, please! Don't leave me!" After all he had been through in the past few days, after coming close to losing everything he had ever known, she came back into his life-his only love, and restored purpose in his existence. "Please, don't leave me now!" He sobbed like a child as he no longer felt the connection between them. "I love you, Sylvanas. Please don't go!"
"Wake up," her voice was no more than a breath as he, too, retreated from his slumber. "Listen."
"Master...Agony..."
"...wants the daughter..."
"That is the only way..."
"...we will give Leprecha..."
As his reverie receded, he could hear a low conversation in the hallway. It was so soft, so fragmented he could make no sense of it at all. But there were two things he could be certain of, that the subject of discussion was Elma, and that the speakers were unmistakably Rue Wyena and her wayward companion.
"...Maiev..."
"Then the Master will release..."
Maiev? Maiev Shadowsong? What had become of her? Personally, Kael had lukewarm feelings about the warden, half-mad with her obsession of subduing Illidan with her power. But regardless of her state of sanity, regardless how she treated Tyrande when she knew full well she had the power to save the priestess from the undead, no one deserved to be abandoned in the mercy of crazed demons with no way home. He had an impression that Maiev was not yet powerful enough to create a portal for her own use, and therefore, she would likely still be trapped in the desolate Outland-how many years had it been since? Fifteen? Sixteen?
He got up to his feet too quickly and felt the world spin under him. He took a few seconds to steady himself, to allow the sleep enchantment to lax its grip on him. He headed towards the door-but as his hand touched the handle, he hesitated. If Sylvanas had especially warned him about the motive of those two, would it be wise of him to barge into the middle of their conspiracy? He had been prepared to fight the Black Warden before she employed her trickery. But he knew he could not take on two wardens on his own with Elma completely out of action.
As he hesitated, the conversation, too, faded as though the speakers sensed him awaken. He turned the knob and prepared to feign innocence should the two confront him. But to his surprise, no one was in view as he stepped out, as though this conversation had been a part of his withdrawing dream.
She needs you now. Go to her…
Elma. He made his way back to the room where he left Elma in the wardens' charge. Although he had no memories how he ended up in a different room himself, he was somehow sure of his way back. It must be Sylvanas, he thought gratefully, she was still with him, leading the way. Oh, this information would change everything. If that abomination that attacked his homeland was not his love, everything would be different. He could go to war in the Undercity and battle the undead with no remorse. Hope restored purpose in his existence.
But if that was not Sylvanas, where was she? Whose body did she reside in? Or was she only a wandering ghost that was robbed of a shell? What had become of her?
Elma's door was closed. He knocked at it. There was no answer-perhaps she was still asleep. Guilt haunted him as he remembered the sleeping potion she was not supposed to take. Was it too powerful? Would it have dreadful lingering effects? Oh, Lights! He swore he would not be so imprudent again. Forgive me, Elma. I didn't know.
He invited himself into the room. The young woman was, as he expected, still sedated. Though pain was no longer evident, her serene features were still pallid. But she would live. As soon as she woke, he would take her away from the Barrow Deeps, away from this vile prison they tricked him to enter.
He did not count the time. He sat by her bedside and waited for her to wake. When finally her eyes fluttered open, he blessed the Light, "Elma! How are you feeling?"
"I feel...so weak," she muttered when she was awake enough to speak. It was true she looked terrible, and her emerald eyes were without lustre.
"That's all right," he attempted to console her, although he was so relieved his tone was almost too cheerful. "You were hurt. You lost a lot a blood, but you'll get better."
"What happened? Where are we?"
"Don't you remember? Khec-" Should he remind her? If it was not for the rider, they would not find themselves caught in such peril now. But Khecomo deserved no forgiveness, "Khec stabbed you."
"Ah," her response told him naught of if she remembered or if she was merely acknowledging his answer.
Her second question, however, was something he did not have the courage to tell her. He digressed from it, "Are you in pain? Do you feel unwell?" He needed to know if the sleep drug had caused her any damage before he could determine what he could do. But truly, even if he managed to take her away from the Barrow Deeps, he had no idea where they could turn to for help. He was hesitant about seeking Illidan out. Thirteen years ago when they parted, he could have laid his life down for Illidan's innocence, that the rogue would never think to hurt the priestess. But in thirteen years, many things could have changed. A blameless child could have been transformed into a blood-lusty sorceress. He dared not trust to hope.
"I just feel...limp," she replied, "and dizzy. But nothing hurts."
"All right then. I think you just need some more sleep," he brushed back ebony curls that fell in front of her face.
"I'm sorry, Kael," she whispered.
He paused and trained his eyes upon her in surprise as tears began to flow down her cheeks and dampened the sheets. "What for?" He was so taken aback by her reaction he was unsure what to say or do, "Dear, if anyone, it is I who should be sorry. I had not disciplined my rider enough…"
"It was not him. It was Ner'zhul," she argued, beginning to raise her voice, although her strength soon failed her. "My talent in the dark arts would have allowed me to sense Khecomo before he lifted his hand. But I felt nothing until when he plunged that blade into me. I sensed the same magic-a flicker of telekinesis that momentarily blinded all my senses. The rider couldn't have done that."
"Ner'zhul? You must tell me more. Didn't you already destroy him? Is he alive or is he not?" Had the lich king as he came to know him ever been anything else but dead? Kael forced himself to stop asking questions. The young woman was in no shape to answer. She needed rest. He ought to wait. Even if she could explain everything, that would change nothing.
"I've tried to tell you…I've tried, but I can't," she did not wipe her tears. "That night when you asked me what happened to Sylvanas…" Suddenly, she became so angry, her pallid face brought to life only by rage and hatred. It was at that moment when he doubted her sanity, and his own, "I can't tell you anything. I've forgotten it all! Can't tell you even if you torture me. You should have let me die instead! I hate you, Kael! Leave me!"
Never let her out of your sight...Ah! Sylvanas, thank you for the warning. Never had he seen Elma so distraught, so tired and vulnerable, he did not know how else he could comfort her save to silently sympathize with the child who was tormented by the lich king time and again. All he could do was to repeat a promise and hold her in his arms as she shrieked and fought him, "I won't leave you. I won't leave you."
But eventually she gave in to her own exhaustion, unable to keep up her stamina. She went completely slack, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow, he thought for a moment she had dropped back to sleep.
"I can't tell you anything," but she whisper, hauntingly. She was a child so broken in his arms he would have given anything to keep her safe.
"That's all right, Elma. It's all right," he rocked her gently in his embrace, gently, until she ceased sobbing, "You don't have to. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry."
"I'm a terrible person," she breathed. "I am a liar, a thief, a murderer. I have not spoken a word of truth since we met." Hollow laughter touched her voice, "But you are so good, you believe me even when your rider deciphers my blatant lies. Go away!" She wriggled out of his arms, "I don't want your pity!"
"No, Elma. You are only misguided." He released her, but a wound had been ripped open. His words sounded empty even to his own ears. By the Light-not a word of truth? Would she be lying now, too? Was this a false declaration to add to her collection of self-pity? But surely not! He remembered their first real conversation since he discovered her true identity. The injury of Ner'zhul's betrayal was still so vivid, the pain so real. Unless she truly was a gifted actress, he could not imagine how she could fake it if she had not lived it. He was tempted to believe this was her delirium speaking, this was the sleeping draught.
"Damn you! Leave me!" but her outburst stunned him again. "Curse you! Curse you! Get away from me! You failed me, remember? Leave! You think you could have gotten back that little girl you lost to Ner'zhul? It's too late! She's already dead!"
He wanted to leave-he ached to leave. Yes, yes, these words she spoke now were true. He failed to rescue her thirteen years ago, and after all these years of hiding and denial, he should have expected no possibility of redemption now. Ner'zhul had tortured her, cursed her, twisted her, and she would never be the same again. This eruption of hers told him everything he feared to know. The cruel sorceress, the one known as Leprecha was but an inhuman façade she learned to put on. All that was left of Alanen's daughter was this defenceless, crippled girl, broken in body and spirit beyond repair. She could never heal. This was all she would ever be.
He lowered his head. He could never look at her again without shame, "I can't ask you to forgive me. I don't have a right. But I'm sorry. I will do everything I can to keep you safe. I will fight Ner'zhul and make sure he can never hurt you again."
Suddenly, the mask returned to her, the disguise that went by the name of Leprecha. She smiled a mirthless smile, "Are you really so daft, Kael? Or did you think that your patience and attention would change things between us? Haven't you guessed by now? Haven't you guessed who tortured your beloved Sylvanas, who inflicted the final blow?"
Kael got up to his feet abruptly and staggered backwards. No. This was too much. No! She could not be right in the mind. The wardens must have done something to her. Yet no matter how he denied it, or how he attempted to search for another explanation, he knew she was telling the truth this time. Sylvanas, his love, his life, was slain in the hands of the very same child he could not rescue. He had failed them both-and this was what Ner'zhul wanted all along.
"Not only have I destroyed her body, I have shattered her soul-hers, and Ner'zhul's," the blood leprechaun continued, her tone crueller and harder than before-was this the same voice, the same expression Sylvanas saw before her death? "I will never forgive you, Kael. I turned into this demon because you gave up on me!"
No! He wished he had the words to tell her what he dreamed of just then-how real Sylvanas had been in his vision! But his certainty slipped from him. His lover's soul was shattered, and her returning could only have been his own wishful thinking. An illusion, nothing more.
"Leave me-why are you still standing there like a dolt! Leave! Go and rot, you idiot!"
He did not wait until she was done throwing her insults at him. All of a sudden, all light had been snuffed out from his world again as he realized the sorceress was right. All his miserable attempts at amendments would change nothing between them. Elma would still have been abandoned, and the demon called Leprecha would still have murdered Sylvanas and destroyed both their souls. Oh, could he believe Fate could be so brutal! He fled down the hallway, blind from the darkness that invaded his soul. He could not hear as Elma thrashed and screamed to fight the ghost of Ner'zhul that tightened his grip around her will.
A/N / Teaser:
A big 'uh-oh' and confusing dilemma for our heroes!
Of course, many questions press for answers now-just who the hell are the stinking liars? Is our Illidan an overbearing villain who has Tyrande under his control now, or is that just bull? Where-or more specifically, who-is Sylvanas? Has Nerz been controlling Elma all along? What are Davita and Wyena gonna do to Elma and how does that all connect to Maiev, really? Ah, and is it just you, or did I say Nerz whacked off Elma's arm?
Enough cliff-hangers to keep you guys cursing me for another two months, nya?
WingchumonZero: Thanks, and huggles to ya. I think you're the first person to say that you like Khec. Personally, I do believe every story needs an archetype of an impulsive, unguarded and trouble-prone person who at first annoys the hell out of everybody but is later found to be the one true friend. Rest assured, as I just gave out another spoiler, that nothing really bad will happen to Khec.
Inamm07: Thank you, thank you. Indeed I won't just let Nerz die, and most certainly he's plotting something foul. He and Elma have some history between them and lots of scores to settle.
Ride4Ruin: I'm sorry I haven't really got time/inspiration to update this for a while. Thank you for your patience.
Crimson Paladin: Thanks-I know, I know. We're taking forever to get there, but now that our heroes are finally in Kalimdor, we've made a huge leap, haven't we? Things should be moving along now, Elune willing, smoothly.
Li Katsuya: Yeah, Kael's party is falling apart-and we know it's not fun if they band together until they all die, right? Thanks for reading.
Demongod86: Thank you. Things really aren't that complicated once Kael makes up his mind to hear Elma out. You got the part right about Davita's involvement, but it's not Khec. Anyway, I don't think I will be publishing original fiction online, unless I am convinced by far too many rejection letters from the publishers.
arthusThanks for your support.
Azzandra: Thank you. I AM a scary woman, in case you haven't noticed. Nerz absolutely will have a larger role to play in this story. After all, we can't let this archvillain just disappear out of the picture.
Trevor X: Because the lich king finds it fun to mess up other people's lives after death...! You're still the record holder for sympathizing with the characters in this story. Thanks for your sympathy and support!
I)void: Thanks! Of course, of course, a way to keep Kael from stopping Sylvanas would be to break apart his already pretty fragile party!
Elven-King-R: Thanks. is amazingly slow sometimes and has the habit of being down every two days for the past month. No! Don't run yet lest you get hurt-ah, too late.