Chapter Twenty
The Scarlet Crusade
Nex stood atop a hill, looking around. For once he had no idea what to do.
Not with the task itself, of course. Whatever this Hearthglen was, and however well the Argent Crusade defended it, it couldn't be any more difficult than Stormwind to get into and out of. He had a name and knew what item he was trying to retrieve, and that had been good enough before.
The problem this time, unfortunately, was that he had no idea where Hearthglen was. Somewhere to the northeast of the ruins of Lordaeron city was all well and good, but the nation of Lordaeron had been huge, and Nex had never traveled within its borders when the nation still existed. For that matter he'd only been in the Plaguelands themselves once, and he'd never been in this area. His hunt for Rachondimus had taken him much farther east and a bit more north, closer to Stratholme.
Oh, he knew about Hearthglen, of course. Lynda the Demonologist had followed the spread of the plague and the beginnings of the Scourge with equal parts excitement and envy, using her remaining connections with Azeroth's nobility to get information. He knew all about Arthas's abortive campaign, and the fact that the paladin prince had been trapped Hearthglen when half its citizens had consumed plagued grain and become undead, and all around other villages had already fallen and the newly formed Scourge army besieged him for days until Uther the Lightbringer could come with reinforcements. But knowing about a place didn't bring him any closer to knowing how to get there.
"Felshit." Of course he couldn't just contact Stormrage and ask for directions. His erstwhile master put up with him for the sole reason that he was useful. The moment he stopped being that Stormrage would become far less tolerant.
He swore again. His best bet was to keep going north and east, following the mountain range to his left. Eventually he'd either find something or go too far and know he had to go back. Or with any luck he'd encounter a Scarlet Crusade patrol and could shadow them back to their town. With a sigh he leapt down the slope ahead and began climbing the cliffs to the even higher slope in front of him.
Atop that, at least, he saw something.
It was the ruins of a once-prosperous farm. The extensive fields the farmers had cultivated were diseased devastation now, and must of that was thanks to the plagued cauldron at their center, guarded by a strong contingent of Scourge undead.
Nex dropped to one knee, looking closer with his second sight. Well, that was interesting. A Scourge emplacement out in the middle of nowhere, with only random sightings of unorganized undead before this. If this was anywhere near Hearthglen there was no way the Crusade wouldn't be watching it. For that matter it might be a Scourge outpost set to watch the human remnants.
"Halt, interloper, in the name of the Light!"
Nex turned slowly, facing down the slope to where a dozen men and women in red were easing from the trees. Most had bows trained on him, or spells prepared, and he had a cliff at his back. Come to think of it, this hill provided a prime spot to watch the undead emplacement below.
"Well damn," he said. At least he'd found some Scarlet Crusaders.
. . . . .
The humans in red started forward in a cautious, disciplined line. At their head strode a man in full red-laquered plate who bore a strong aura of holy energy. Nex bit back the urge to groan. False gods of Azeroth, another paladin?
"It's a living creature," one of the men near the back of the group said with surprise. He was wearing ornate vestments sewn with holy symbols; some sort of priest or holy man.
The leader grunted with surprise. "Well, that's not something you see every day. Looks as if he hasn't had a good meal in weeks. Not wearing the cultist robes of an Acolyte of the Damned, but that would be my best guess."
"You'd be guessing wrong," Nex said, somewhat irked that they were talking to each other when he was right there. "My name is Nex."
"And my name is Hardin, Commander of this patrol group," the crimson-armored paladin said. "As for my guesses, I'll decide whether they're right or wrong. What is your interest in this area?"
"I have no interest in you," Nex said calmly. "Unless your name is Olivia, Cleric of the Order of Illumination."
A low murmur swept through the men, and Hardin narrowed his eyes. "What do you want with Lady Olivia?"
"I bear a message on behalf of my master. You probably will not know him, but if you consider yourselves enemies of the Scourge you would do well to let me deliver it."
"We don't need the help of a scrawny little whelp to defeat the Scourge!" a young man surrounded by ragged dogs called out. His beasts snarled as if in agreement. Nex ignored the fool, keeping his eyes on Hardin.
"Peace, Lonan," the Scarlet Commander barked. "If you're so keen to talk yap at your dogs, and leave the interrogation of prisoners to me."
"Yes, Commander Hardin," Lonan said with a sharp salute and only a trace of sullenness.
"Prisoner?" Nex said coolly. "I've identified myself as a peaceful messenger bearing an important missive, and you intend to take me captive and delay my mission?"
The line of crusaders chuckled, none too kindly. Hardin strode forward arrogantly and actually went so far as to prod Nex in the chest with a gauntleted finger. "We'll take you captive, aye, and likely execute you as well, because the only people we let wander within our territory or pass our blockade have a flame on their chest." He punctuated this statement by slapping the stylized flames on his own clean white tabard.
Flame on their chest, eh? Nex twisted his lip in contempt. "Scarlet Crusade, you call yourselves," he said. "Barely surviving against an enemy that threatens your entire race, and you still manage to pick fights with everyone you run into. Tell me, what is it about this vaunted Light of yours that seems to turn everyone it touches into fools or madmen or both?"
The man paused in the act of dropping his hand to his side, and almost looked as if he'd turn the gesture into a backhand. "Fools?" he demanded incredulously. "A dozen men with bows and spells at the ready surround you, and you seem determined to make us want to kill you. So who is the fool?"
"You. You've already told me you mean to kill me, so why shouldn't I say what I like? Yes, definitely you."
Hardin scowled. "Fools who've kept the Scourge at bay for nearly three years! Hordes of undead monstrosities, slaying my brothers and raising them up again. But we have not given an inch of ground to the Blight. We've held the line!"
"You've held the line," Nex agreed. "And against a mindless enemy who does not tire, does not flinch, does not break, holding the line is the only way to contain them. You're fools because while you were holding the line you selectively went around to every single other race and faction within a week's travel of the Plagued Border and found the perfect way to make them your enemy. It's hard to hold the line when the line bends back around on itself and becomes a circle with you on the inside and the rest of the world against you."
A snap and a shrill whine were followed immediately by an arrow that Nex narrowly dodged. "Hold for now!" Hardin roared. "Didn't I just get finished saying we're taking him prisoner?" Hardin turned back to Nex with an amused quirk to his lips. "Of course it is up to you, pitiful wretch. Do you want to die?"
"More than you can imagine, at times." Nex dropped his hands down to his waist and rest his hands on two of his double-pointed throwing daggers. "I've told you my purpose, you've told me yours. Perhaps it's time to stop talking."
"Right." Hardin turned away with studied contempt. "Karil, Elya, bind this wretch and bring him along."
Nex drew his daggers and flipped them at the man turned away from him, one to the back of each knee. The man fell with a cry. Teach you to turn your back on an enemy. Then he drew two of his heavy-bladed daggers and began gathering his energy. More twangs sounded as several arrows were loosed, and the air was filled with their whine. Nex blocked one with a knife, dodged two more, and batted another out of the air with his forearm. The others all sailed away, missing by a wide margin.
Close on the tail of these arrows spells assaulted him with heat and cold and waves of shadow energy. Nex shrugged aside the attacks and dropped his gathered power at his feet. "Feel the fury of the shadows," he whispered. For an eternal instant his spell drifted lazily towards the ground. Then it struck, and all hell broke loose.
Dark energy exploded outward in every direction, rapidly expanding into a ring-like wave that swept over the crusaders. But even though it seemed to pass through them harmlessly, when it faded away everyone around him crumpled to the ground, momentarily stunned. Nex shifted his grip on the knives and darted forward, ducking and opening the fool Lonan's throat as he passed. He stomped on one of the dog's legs and heard a satisfying snap. As he rushed to his next victim he lifted a hand and sent out a blast of shadow energy that struck one of the enemies on the other side of the line, farthest away from his position. The crusaders wouldn't stay stunned for long, and the more he could kill before they came to, the less chance any would escape to send a warning to Hearthglen.
It was a grisly few moments, and by the time they were done with he'd slain five more of the crusaders. Which left six more to contend with. Fortunately it seemed his fear that they'd flee was unfounded; all six attacked him at once.
One tripped over Commander Hardin, who struggled to rise, and a moment later began screaming horribly as Nex's thrown dagger found his throat. Two of the others were casters, a mage and a priest, and rather than charging forward they stayed back and sent glittering shards of ice and wave after wave of shadow energy, respectively. The other two were heavily armored and armed with sword and shield. They were wary but confident as they approached, thinking his wielding only daggers put him at a disadvantage.
Nex drew another dagger as he gathered up a concentrated coil of dark energy and sent it at one of the swordsmen, and the man fled screaming in pain. The other, smaller and obviously a woman, charged at him and slashed viciously with her short sword. Nex turned it aside with his lefthand dagger, obviously surprising her with his strength, and ducked within the range of her sword. She tried to slam him in the face with her shield, but he caught the blow on his right forearm and heaved back, sending her sprawling. Her sword flew out of her hand.
Before he could finish her off his feet became trapped in ice that sprang up from the ground, and he looked over to the casters to see that one of them had summoned a lesser water elemental. Now caster and pet were sending bolts of ice and water at him. He lifted one arm against the stinging spray and gritted his teeth in annoyance. The priest caster was kneeling over Hardin, struggling to cast healing spells, while Hardin tried to get his feet under him in spite of severed knee tendons. Nex hurled a bolt of shadowy energy at the priest, only to have it wash uselessly over a pliant shield of holy energy that bent and flexed but refused to break.
This was proving to be tougher than he'd expected. These crusaders were hardened veterans of countless battles with the Scourge, and they were not only stronger than most of the enemies he'd faced recently, but obviously used to fighting in concert. He might could kill them still, but it was going to become harder once Hardin got his feet under him. And the fleeing swordsman had turned and was running for him again.
"Damnit," he muttered. He didn't really need to fight them anyway, since his goal was to get inside Hearthglen and retrieve the scroll. And as for getting into Hearthglen...
He looked at Hardin's armor. Flame on their chest, eh? Throwing a shadowy shield around himself he leapt forward, making for the most ideal spot, close enough to all of his enemies but the mage. Once there he unleashed a wave of psychic energy that would fill their minds with unreasoning fear. All but the priest fled. In the narrow opening he'd made for himself he charged forward, kicked through the priest's greatly weakened shield, and knocked him sprawling. Then he knelt by Hardin, who was snarling in fear but unable to run, barely managing to crawl as he tried to flee. Nex slammed the pommel of his heavy-bladed dagger into the back of the man's head, knocking him out cold, then pulled him over both his shoulders.
With a strangled grunt he pushed to his feet, lugging almost three hundred pounds of crusader, and sprinted for the cliff behind him. It was far more difficult to levitate with so much weight, but he managed it and drifted into the trees below. From there he ran north and east, around the Blighted farm and towards a gap in the hills ahead.
He hadn't gone more than a mile or so before he was awarded with the sight of encampments in the distance, manned by living men and women wearing the red of the Scarlet Crusade.
"About time," he muttered, dropping Hardin to the ground. He moved around the perimeter of the place he'd stopped at, searching for patrols, and then returned to where Hardin sprawled and began loosening the ties of his armor with nimble fingers.
It was a fairly lengthy task, and long before he'd removed even half the armor Hardin began to stir. "Ah, Hardin, awake at last?" he asked politely. "Sorry to have to drag you away from your duties, but I had a pressing question I had to ask you." Hardin stared at him blankly, obviously struggling to form a coherent though, and Nex laughed. "I'm just wondering if your precious Light is a whore, giving out its power out to anyone willing to worship it, or just completely lacks judgment."
The Scarlet Commander blinked slowly. "Wha?"
Nex began working on removing the man's plated boots. "You see, you all claim that the Light is the source of everything good, and those who wield it are incapable of evil. But at the same time I know for a fact that your kind has battled paladins from other factions before. I'm just wondering if, in those battles, the Light supports both combatants or picks a side. If it was truly holy it would only support the just cause, while if it was mercenary, open to anyone who asked for it, then it would give freely to both sides, and the ones most capable of wielding it would prevail."
Hardin blinked slowly, eyes glazed. "Th'...I don'..." He suddenly seemed to realize Nex was removing his armor. "Wha'r you doi'?"
Nex smiled mirthlessly. "Robbing you, can't you tell?" He finished removing the armor, none too gently, and started on the big human's clothes. Hardin said nothing, seeming to swoon, as Nex finished removing all but his underclothes. He began putting on the crusader's gear. But the commander stirred again as Nex finished putting on the armor, tightening it as much as possible to fit him, and then eased the tabard over his head, letting the red stylized flame settle on his breast.
"M' tabard!" Hardin said thickly.
"That's right. You did say the only people who could get through your blockade had the flame on their chest."
The man began struggling, trying to get to his feet. "I'll die 'fore I let you take the flame off me."
Nex made a final adjustment to the tabard and turned to the commander. "I'm Nothing if not a fair man. If you want the flame burning at your breast you have but to ask." He lunged forward, quick as a cat, and slammed his palm into Hardin's sternum, pushing the man back down to the ground, keeping his palm pressed tight to Hardin's skin the whole time. For a moment they were both still, and then the scarlet commander began screaming and thrashing as wisps of smoke rose between Nex's fingers. A moment later black char began spreading from where his palm was pressed to the man's chest.
Then, all at once with a soft but solid whumph, Hardin burst into intense flame. Within seconds even his bones were ash, which settled to the ground in a downy drift.
Nex knelt there for a moment more, letting the flames bathe him. Then he stood and spat into the ashes. "It'd have to be some kind of insane world where I'd actually want to be one of you." As he said it he wasn't sure if he meant a human or a Scarlet Crusader.
Either worked, he supposed.
Without looking back he turned and trotted towards the terraced hills with their gauntlet of blockades and watchtowers, Hearthglen rising red and white at the top.
. . . . .
High Commander Galvar Pureblood rose stiffly from his desk, groaning as his old leg injury twinged. By the Light he was tired, and no amount of rest could serve to dull the despair that had settled into his very bones.
But despair or no, today he must be strong for his people. They didn't know it, but it was a day worthy of note.
Leaving his desk behind he strode past his bed, ignoring its enticements, and went to the dresser where a bowl for washing and a pitcher of tepid water stood. He splashed some water on his face, the sting easing some of his weariness, and then he got his small scissors and began carefully trimming his beard in front of the small mirror on its stand.
Before he'd half finished a polite knock on the door was followed immediately by a young man dressed in fine white and scarlet silk clothes, the scarlet flame embroidered large on his chest and on one shoulder of his cloak. "My Lord," the youth said, stepping further into the room, "the men are assembled for morning prayers, and await word from you."
Galvar nodded curtly. The boy hadn't bowed, but then they were technically equals. Highlord Taelan Fordring led Hearthglen and the surrounding lands still held by human hands in a more civilian manner, while Galvar nominally held command of the military under him. Of course, the civilian aspects of Hearthglen were just about nonexistent now, and even those that remained civilian, such as the smithies, stables, clothiers, and farms, wholly served the military. Faced by oblivion every day there wasn't much room for dancing around Maypoles.
Still, Taelan had endured his loss of power gracefully, and now served as a sort of glorified quartermaster for a long while. He was edging in on the position of Galvar's second in command, rising through the ranks of other officers not by dint of seniority but by sheer loyalty and valor. He was a fine lad, young to be such a grim fighter, but he'd inherited his Lord father's abilities there. Thankfully that was all he had inherited from the traitor.
"Very good, lad. I'll be out soon."
"Aye, my Lord." Taelan hesitated. "The men are looking forward to your speech, sir. Rumors are going around that today is an eventful day, and they're expecting something more than the usual."
"Not to worry, lad. You can go."
Fordring saluted and left quickly, face set stoically at the curt dismissal. Of course Galvar had spent the night writing this speech for just that reason. And where did the lad think the rumors had begun, anyway? With a sigh he finished shaving and began dressing in his white and gold armor, calling for his page to aid him. Fifteen minutes later he stood once more before the tiny mirror, resplendent in white and gold with the tabard of the Crusade and the stylized flame upon its snowy field the only bit of red on him. That only served to make it the more noticeable.
He settled his greatcloak of white broadcloth across his shoulders, fastening it with golden pins, and then he turned and swept from the room, through the fortress and down to the parade grounds below, where his people waited.
It was a gratifying thing to burst through the Scarlet Keep's front doors and hear the roar of his men. They spread across the parade grounds in a red and white field, hundreds in all. Soldiers, farmers, smiths and lumberjacks. Women as brave and valorous as the men, and as willing to bear arms in defense of their beloved town. For a moment he was overcome by emotion, and he had to stop and compose himself as he looked out at their shining faces, proud of what they had accomplished here.
When Arthas, Uther, and their forces had abandoned Hearthglen it had been little more than a ruin filled with starving, desperate peasants. Any with the means or the courage had fled, and those that remained were too terrified to eat for fear of the plagued grain, too terrified to try to flee through the undead that roamed the lands outside their walls. The only advantage they'd had was the meager fortifications Arthas had prepared when the undead had besieged them.
But Galvar hadn't left with Uther even when ordered to do so, and with him had remained a few truly generous souls who couldn't stand to see these people left to their fate. By dint of sheer determination they had clawed their way out of starvation and poverty, fending off the undead as they struggled to rebuild their town.
And they had.
Chest swelling with pride he strode to stand at the top of the stairs, raising his hands in acknowledgment of the cheers. He let them continue for a time, and then he raised one fist in a curt gesture to silence it. "Brothers, the Light is with us," he said. The men responded with a roar of approval. "We've lived in the shadow of death for so long, surviving day by day, that many might come to think that it's been an eternity. It might surprise some of you, as it surprised me to learn it, that we've survived two years to the day against the horrific undead since Uther and his paladins abandoned us to our fates." Another cheer, louder this time.
Galvar looked around with a weary smile. "Not only survived, my brothers, but rebuilt. Look around you, and try to see yourselves as I see you. You stand in disciplined ranks, well trained and veterans of dozens of battles. Your armor gleams, undented and burnished until it shines like fresh blood. Your weapons are sharp, and you hold them well. Though hard times have not left us I see you are all well fed and healthy. And what is more, the Light gives all of us the strength to not merely fight on, but to press forward!
"And brothers, the Light is the only strength we need. Let the Alliance traitors who abandoned us nibble at the flanks of the Scourge and tickle the traitor Arthas where he's weakest. Let the demi-humans who have no stake in this peril to humanity look on while we bleed for them. They are timid and they are weak, but we stand at the very heart of the Scourge! The undead press us like an avalanche, but we weather them day by day. And we shall not falter!"
Another cheer, longer this time. Galvar let it wash over him for several minutes as his people, pristine with the flame of righteousness on their breasts, roared their defiance to the world. For it was the world they fought against, all the world against them. "Let any who cross our borders, whether they breathe or are the dead animate, feel the wrath of the Light! Those who do not stand with us stand against us. And brothers, today we stand alone! And we shall not falter!"
Again he had to wait for the cheers to die down. He smiled through it all, content to wait as long as necessary. "I am proud to stand at your head, brothers. I am humbled by the courage and determination you show every day. Through tireless effort and unflagging determination we've carved a beautiful home in the midst of death and blight, and day by day we hold it back. AND..."
He raised his arms, gesturing to his people, and they roared back to him. "We shall not falter!"
Galvar smiled. "I proclaim this day the day we celebrate the Triumph of Hearthglen! Let us every year rest from our labors and celebrate the miraculous feat we've accomplished and continue to accomplish. The sentries will run half shifts so they, too, can celebrate, and tonight let as raise a flame such as these desolate lands have rarely seen, the flame of our passion incarnate. For the first time in two years, let Hearthglen ring to the noise of singing and dancing! For Hearthglen!"
"For Hearthglen!" his people cheered back at him. And this time the crowd's roar didn't end.
With a last weary smile Galvar motioned for them to disperse and strode down the stairs to where the most influential people of the town awaited him.
As the assembled soldiers dispersed Galvar caught a glimpse of one, a commander, whose armor fit so terribly it was painfully obvious. He frowned in displeasure. There was no call for such slovenly appearance, and least of all in an officer. He was about to give orders that the man be sent to Foreman Jerris to have his armor refitted when two of the gate sentries and an invoker burst onto the parade grounds from the south, in the direction of the gauntlet.
"See what that's about," he ordered Fordring, who saluted and immediately began pushing through the crowd of well-wishers to intercept the trio. Galvar kept an eye on them as he shook the hands of various officers and dignitaries of the Church and village, and politely broke away when he saw Fordring pushing through the group towards him with the invoker in tow.
"What is it?" he demanded. His alarm grew when he saw that the invoker was wounded and his normally fine red-and-black robes were torn and rumpled. "What is this? What's happened?"
The invoker saluted. "Polarn at your service, High Commander," he panted. "I served in the patrol group under Commander Hardin. Far patrol, scouting near Dalson's Tears. We encountered a living human, an emaciated creature we thought was a Scourge Acolyte, and prepared to take it captive. The creature proved to wield devastating shadow magics, and slew all in our party save I, one of our swordsmen, and our Priest, Daran, both of whom are at the gates seeing to their wounds."
"All?" Galvar demanded. "How large was your patrol?"
"Full contingent, sir. A dozen in all, excluding the Commander." Polarn hesitated. "It's perhaps inaccurate to say he slew us all. Commander Hardin he took with him."
"Took with him?" Galvar realized belatedly that repeating everything the man was saying wasn't doing much for his image as a leader. He just wished this disaster could have picked another day to happen. "Commander Hardin was a large man, and should have been in full armor. I'm trying to construct a scenario where one man could slay nine of you, kidnap your commander, and escape. Did you flee?"
The invoker paled. "No, High Commander! I swear it was the enemy who fled, carrying Hardin."
"You say this creature was emaciated, yet he fled carrying a heavy man in full armor and managed to escape. Did you not pursue?"
Polarn hesitated. "It, ah, would be a lie to say we pursued eagerly, as he leapt off a cliff. But we did follow him to the edge, and saw that he was levitating down to the ground below. When he reached it he fled, moving far too quickly for us to catch him." The man shifted nervously. "And, sir, he was fleeing north, towards Hearthglen."
Galvar glanced at the two sentries who'd escorted the invoker. One of them shook his head. "No sightings of this enemy, sir. And none of our other positions or scouts have come under attack."
"He, ah, mentioned at the beginning that he was looking for Lady Olivia of the Order of Illumination."
Galvar's head snapped back to the invoker. "And you decided to wait until the end of your report to tell me that?" He caught Fordring's shoulder. "Take a dozen men and secure the Order of Illumination's rooms. See to it that Olivia is protected especially."
"Sir!" the lad snapped, saluting sharply. He began barking orders, already running across the parade grounds, and a handful of the milling soldiers fell into line behind him.
Galvar searched through the crowd until he found High Protector Lorik, who had charge of the day to day management of their forces. "Tell me, High Protector. Are any of our officers so slovenly as to wear ill-fitting armor?"
The man scowled in affront: the fool was actually unable to connect the kidnapping of one of their officers with the possibility of infiltration. "Not one of them, High Commander. We outfit our men with custom-made plate, and refit them monthly."
"Then sound the alarm," Galvar said grimly. "Because I fear this enemy is already within Hearthglen."
. . . . .
Nex sidled into a large room on the top floor of the building he'd been directed to by one of the scarlet soldiers listening to their Commander's speech. In it four beds occupied the four corners, with chests at the foot of each for personal belongings. Aside from those there was little in the way of furniture or ornamentation, save a rack of scrolls and books along one wall.
Kneeling beside one of the beds, head bowed in fervent prayer, was a slender woman with graying hair in a coarse robe of brown roughspun. She ignored him as he started towards her. Nex cleared his throat sharply. "Olivia, of the Order of Illumination?"
The woman turned towards him after a moment or so. "Yes?" she asked gently. As she finished speaking bells began ringing outside, easily a dozen of them in a rolling clangor. Alerted by them, perhaps, she looked more closely at him and then edged back, face pale. "What evil is within you?" she breathed.
Nex bit back a curse. He'd hoped for longer before the alarm was raised. The remainder of Hardin's patrol must have run straight back here and, miraculously for any large military, managed to swiftly raise the alarm. "An evil that's far more interested in slaying Scourge than Scarlet Crusade," he said, reaching for one of the heavy-bladed daggers at his belt. "But one which will do what is necessary, and one which doesn't have much time."
Though her face remained pale, it became surprisingly calm and composed at his words. Nex couldn't see any fear in her features. "Whom have I angered that you would come for me and call me by name? What have I done that you would risk entering this fortress of the Light to claim my life?"
"I don't give a rat's damn about your life, woman," Nex snarled, taking another step closer. She was powerful, he could feel, a solid conduit to the hated Light. But her defenses didn't match that power: she was no fighter. "My master's allies are fighting the Scourge, and I've been sent because you possess a specialized enchantment for weapons that will make them more devastating against our mutual enemies."
To his surprise her suspicion faded, replaced by...something else. "Who are your master's allies?" she asked intently.
"I don't know!" He could hear crashing noises from below, and curses. He didn't have time for this. "The high elf remnants, perhaps, or some faction of humans that have survived in the area. The important thing is they're about to engage the Scourge and they need that weapon enchant. And it is rather pressing, since I've apparently been discovered and your friends are closing in on us. I'd like to simply take the scroll and leave, but if I have to kill you I will."
"I don't doubt that." She was still staring at him with that curiously intent expression. Then she moved to the rack of scrolls and drew one from it. "When I created this enchant I'd always intended for it to go to any who fight the Scourge. But the nature of Hearthglen's leaders prevents such a thing. Take it, creature of darkness, and use it to wound the Scourge."
Nex took the scroll slowly, unable to believe after all this effort that she was simply giving it to him. "Why?"
That question could have applied to just about anything, but she understood it easily enough. "Even if your heart is as black as your aura, child, some weapons are so holy that they can only be used for good. You may take this enchantment for whatever nefarious reason, but the fact remains that its only true use is destroying undead. And any use you put it to can only aid the cause of humanity."
"I'd love to prove you wrong on that, woman, but I'm afraid you're probably right." Nex tucked the scroll into his pack, left the room, and sprinted down the hallway towards a small stained-glass window at the end. The image it depicted was some smug noble-faced bastard being graced with the Light, which only made him feel better about smashing through it to Levitate the four storeys down to the ground. He could hear shouts behind him, indicating he'd once again fled none too soon.
Unfortunately he could also hear shouts below him on every side.
. . . . .
High Commander Galvar skidded to a halt, the dozen men at his back stopping as well with some oaths, as they saw a figure break through a window on the fourth floor. The figure began to drop, then his fall slowed to a drift and he began floating swiftly towards the hills overlooking Hearthglen to the east.
Galvar pressed his lips together when he realized the window the intruder had destroyed was the stained glass image honoring the Rapture of Lord Perial. It had been a beautiful thing, one of the few remnants of the time before the plague and the coming of the Scourge.
He raised his hammer, pointing it at the drifting figure, and summoned the Light to reveal to the vile creature its every sin. "Know the evil within you, vandal!" he roared.
The figure stiffened slightly, and dipped in the air as his concentration on his spell lapsed, but then he continued drifting forward undeterred. He turned his head to glance back at Galvar. "I've spent a week enduring the torment of my sins!" he yelled with a vicious smile that revealed overlong canines. "They no longer hold any terror for me!"
Galvar stood in shock, staring at the intruder. Even the undead had no power to withstand the Light revealing their sins to them. He had incapacitated Scourge commanders with the Light. What manner of creature was this that he could just shrug it off so easily? He whirled to soldiers behind him. "Don't just stand there, idiots! After him, and bring him down if you can. Don't let him leave Hearthglen alive!"
Two of the men had longbows, and they immediately fitted arrows to the strings and loosed at the target. He was still less than twenty yards away and the shot was easy, but somehow he spun at just the right time to dodge both arrows, his levitation wobbling slightly. As the archers fitted arrows to strings again he heard a yell from behind him. "Clear the line, fools!"
Galvar whirled to see Siegemaster Carlon and a crew wheeling a ballista into place. "You're pulling back my archers to try hitting a small moving target with a damn ballista?" he demanded.
Carlon scowled right back. "They can shoot all they like, just not in my line of fire. And I'll hit it, never you worry. Clear the line!"
Grumbling, the archers moved to the side and continued loosing arrows, which struck harmlessly against a magical shield, barely causing the enemy's levitation to wobble. Carlton didn't even notice them complying with his orders, already shouting at his crew. "Three degrees up and a hair to the right. A bit more right. Right! Faster, Lightdamnit! Kiv hurry the hell up! If you take longer changing a trajectory than the moving target takes to get to it then you'll never LOOSE, LOOSE NOW!"
With a deep thrum Galvar could feel in his teeth the ballista loosed, its bolt arcing towards the floating figure, bending pendulously from the force of the string. It connected solidly with the enemy and carried it along its trajectory, barely slowing from the collision.
"There, you see!" Carlton crowed. "I told you I'd hit it!"
Galvar watched, openmouthed, as the skewered enemy and ballista bolt reached the apex of their arc and started to drop. Damned if Carlton actually had hit a small moving target with a damn ballista. That man was getting a promotion.
The bolt's trajectory took it within ten feet of an outcrop of rock some hundred yards outside the walls of Hearthglen, and the figure dropped off it. The massive projectile's speed had probably shaken the intruder loose. Galvar expected the corpse to drop bonelessly onto the outcrop and lie there, still, which it did after tumbling a few times from the speed of its forward momentum. "Men, go fetch me that corpse. I want to know-"
He cut off, cursing in disbelief, as the figure began moving, running, down the spine of the outcrop. It was headed south.
. . . . .
Nex gripped his cloak tightly with both hands to slow the bleeding. The ballista's shaft had torn his palms up good before he'd managed to get a firm grip on it, and he was fairly certain his left shoulder had been dislocated by the jarring impact of his speed matching up with the projectile's.
He didn't care. If lacerated hands, a few broken fingers, and a dislocated shoulder was all the injury he had to suffer for getting a free ride away from Hearthglen at an arrow's speed he was happy to suffer it.
Behind he could hear shouting, but he wasn't worried. He was a couple hundred yards and a ravine and several hillsides away from pursuit, and even on horseback they wouldn't catch him.
. . . . .
Olivia sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded demurely in her lap and eyes to the ground. She looked unharmed.
"Sir, I am pleased to report that Lady Olivia is safe!" Fordragon said, saluting.
"Yes, which is odd." Galvar moved to stand in front of the cleric, feet spread wide and hands clasped behind his back. He ignored the twinge of old wounds and weary muscles. "The enemy was powerful, resourceful, and clever. He destroyed a patrol group nearly to the man with relative ease. I have a hard time believing he would simply flee at the first sign of alarm, unless he'd gotten what he came for."
Taelan frowned. "But he came for Lady Olivia and she is unharmed. He surely couldn't have completed whatever objective he had, sir. Lady Olivia told me he was in her room for under a minute, and took nothing."
Galvar frowned at the woman suspiciously. She'd been a thorn in his side since the beginning, demanding leave to provide her services as a healer to prisoners, demanding they be allowed to lend aid to other humans in the area who hadn't yet come under the Scarlet Banner. But for all that she was one of their best healers, and by far their best enchanter. Thanks to her efforts with the Light his men wore armor endowed with strong protections, and swung weapons endowed with great effectiveness.
As if she sensed his doubts she spoke. "No, you and Highlord Fordring are both right, High Commander Pureblood," she said calmly, finally raising her eyes to meet his. "He was not here long, and he took nothing. He did, however, complete his objective."
"Oh?" Galvar said sharply. "And what objective would that be?"
"The undead slaying weapon enchant," Olivia said simply. "He came for it, and I gave it to him."
For a moment Galvar could hardly breathe, stunned by the brazen audacity of this woman, and horrified by the implications of what she'd done. "You gave our greatest weapon to our enemies?" he said quietly.
She shrugged. "It was worth the price of a parchment and a few minutes of scribing, as well as some minor enchantments on the scroll. It deprives the Crusade of nothing, while allowing others to more effectively fight our own enemies."
"Nothing? Nothing! You've given our enemies the means to destroy us!"
For the first time Olivia looked surprised. "In what way? The only use they could put the enchant to would be to fight the Scourge, and any weakening of those enemies can only benefit us."
Galvar caught her by the throat, pushing her down onto her bed and pressing his face close to hers. "You fool! Anything which makes our enemies stronger makes them more of a risk to us. That they are more effective against the undead may make them confident enough to turn their attention to us for a time. You think they're pleased we've been raiding their supply lines?"
Despite the vulnerable position the woman was in she showed no distress. "And why are you doing that? If our enemy is the Scourge why must we attack everyone? I created that enchant so that all of humanity could have a means by which to fight the undead, not so that a bunch of rabid xenophobes could wage war against the world!"
In an eyeblink Galvar's rage was replaced by icy calm. It was no good wasting such strength of emotion on a common traitor, and now that he knew her mind there was nothing more to say.
He released her and turned to Taelan, who was pale with shock. "The traitor Olivia is too useful to be executed for her crimes. See that she is watched at all times, and her movements restrained to where her services are necessary. As long as she is willing to continue aiding us as she has she will continue to live. If at any time she refuses to serve she is to be killed without hesitation."
"But my Lord, we-"
"I'll not waste a moment more on a traitor. See to it my orders are obeyed, and I don't want to hear another word about her unless it's to hear she's dead!" Galvar shot one last disgusted look at the cleric, then turned on his heel and strode away.
. . . . .
Nex was within sight of the northern shore of Lordamere Lake when, to his surprise, Stormrage tapped their link. A moment later the corrupted night elf's image appeared before him.
"I'm following your orders, as you commanded," Nex said. "I didn't expect contact from you until my current task was complete."
Stormrage's image wavered slightly, and his voice sounded somewhat distorted. "An opportunity has come up. I'd like you to take advantage of it for me."
Nex frowned at the image. There was something different about it. Very carefully he probed his link to his nominal master, and to his surprise realized it was very tenuous. The power flowed through it still, but not as much as it had. And there was a feeling of...delay, to drawing upon it. He would almost have attributed it to distance, but where on this world could distance make a difference to such a link?
Stormrage's voice interrupted him before he could consider the matter further. "Before you follow your orders and rendezvous with my minions on the eastern bank of Lordamere Lake, I have a task for you," Stormrage looked tellingly at the scarlet uniform and armor Nex still wore and smiled. "And you seem to be dressed for the task already."
Nex looked down at his makeshift disguise suspiciously. "What exactly is this task?"
"One that, once again, your race makes you the ideal candidate for."
"I see." Nex laughed. "So every time you need someone to fuck over some humans you come to me. I'm so glad every task you set for me involves betraying my own people."
It was Stormrage's turn to laugh. "Your own people?" he asked mockingly. "Do you really believe that?"
Nex said nothing. In truth, he was surprised he'd made any complaint at all. Humanity had shown him what he could expect from it, and he'd just as soon have as little to do with it as possible. Stormrage waited for a moment, but when no answer was forthcoming he shrugged. "No need to become indignant, in any case. This task will not be a detriment to your noble race. The people you're going to be "fucking over" are our prospective allies."
Nex blinked. "What?"
"The human general Garithos, commander of the tattered remnants of the Alliance army in this area, has already done a very good job of alienating the blood elves."
"The blood elves, eh?" Nex said. He's suspected those were Illidan's "new allies."
"Our new allies. I'm disappointed you had to be told." Stormrage shook his head. "In any case Garithos dislikes the blood elves, and the tasks he's been setting them to are becoming more and more difficult. Kael'thas was tasked with repairing an observatory on the island at the center of Lordamere Lake, but no shipyards remained and the Alliance couldn't be bothered with providing ships. He would have failed to carry out his orders had he not received aid from my minions in crossing the lake."
"Your minions?" Nex interrupted. "Do you plan to tell me their identities, or will they be a secret as well until I rendezvous with them?"
Stormrage shrugged. "They are the naga, a branch of the Highborne night elves that served most closely with Azhara, our ancient queen. Long ago when the Well of Eternity was destroyed and many of the night elves' greatest cities were sunk to the bottom of the sea, the naga sank with them. The survived below the tides, and are now ready to rise from the depths and aid me."
"I see." Nex had heard a little of the naga. They were very reclusive, but possessed powerful magics. They were known to many in the magical communities, and Lynda the Demonologist had spent quite a bit of time studying their connection with demons. It made sense that they were relatives of the elves, since all reports held that they spoke a bastardized language similar to both Thalassian and Kaldoreen.
"But naga should not concern you at this moment. Garithos has thus far contented himself with setting the blood elves to impossible tasks. However even his hatred is not vindictive enough to completely sever ties between the blood elves and the Alliance. Kael'thas is proud, and even worse than that honorable. As long as the Alliance offers him a chance to fight the Scourge, Arthas in particular, he will take it. We just have to show him that the only thing the Alliance offers is treachery, and his best hope for vengeance lies with us. That is where you come in."
"You want me to assassinate Garithos and make it look like the blood elves did it?"
Stormrage turned to face north. "Nothing so difficult as that. You need simply deliver a message to Garithos. Tell him that the blood elves are working with the naga and their loyalty is suspect, and any troops he keeps with them might be in imminent danger. News of that betrayal should, hopefully, push Garithos into taking an action extreme enough that even a man of Prince Kael'thas's honor will no longer be able to support the Alliance."
Before Nex could reply one way or another the image winked out. He sighed, looking east along the shore of the lake towards the completion of his task, indeterminably delayed now, then turning and staring in every direction. Wonderful. Another task set at a location he didn't know.
Oh well, at least the Alliance army would be easier to find than a hideout of religious zealots. His best bet was to find the largest group of Scourge in the area and see who opposed them.
. . . . .
It took him nearly two days, since he'd traveled farther south assuming the Alliance army would be doing badly against the undead. To his annoyance he'd found nothing but fortified rearguards and supply lines leading deeper into Scourge territory. Whoever this Garithos was, he was certainly taking the fight to Arthas.
But finally he found the main Alliance encampment. As opposed to most staging areas which were usually a bit removed from the front, Garithos's camp was directly on the front lines behind fortifications so heavy they might as well be called a fortress. They were walled and trenched with stone and timber to the north, east, and west, and to the south where reinforcements and resupply were thickest a massive set of movable barricades had been erected.
Nex spent a few hours circling the fort, looking for a good place to infiltrate. He even went into Scourge territory, braving the undead the blanketed the area. It was dark by the time he completed his inspection, but no matter where he searched he found no gaps in the Alliance's vigilance. Even the reinforcements coming in from the south were closely inspected as they entered the defenses. Papers and insignia were being checked on soldiers and even the civilians, and every single bag, box, and barrel was being opened and sorted through. There were even priests testing the food supplies for signs of the plague.
Nex swore, looking down at the Scarlet Crusade Commander's clothes and armor he still wore. He supposed he could find an Alliance soldier and steal their uniform and credentials, and just have to hope there weren't any passwords or secret verifications he hadn't noticed.
Or, on the other hand, he could pose as an emissary from the Scarlet Crusade. Stormrage had, after all, said he was dressed for this task. It might be safer to be allowed into Garithos's presence to deliver a message under intense scrutiny, as opposed to trying to impersonate a soldier and being caught as a spy. And on the plus side, he'd listened to enough of that High Commander's speech to know how a Scarlet Crusader would act.
That all depended, of course, on whether or not the Scarlet Crusade had pissed the Alliance off to the point where they would actually let him deliver a message instead of killing him outright.
Ten minutes later he openly approached the barricades to the southeast. "Halt!" a lieutenant behind the barricades shouted. Nex obediently halted, waving the white flag he'd made out of the back of his tabard. He hoped the idiots could see it in the dark.
Apparently they could, because a moment later the lieutenant came out from behind the barricade and strode forward, stopping two feet away from Nex in a gesture of extreme arrogance. There was an uncomfortable silence as the man inspected him point-blank, but finally he spoke. "You're one of the Scarlet Crusade," he said coldly. "One of those mongrels that raids our supply lines."
Nex had anticipated something of the sort. Raiding supply lines was exactly the sort of thing he'd expect from the Scarlet Crusade. He had a response that might work, but it depended heavily on Stormrage being right about the xenophobia of Garithos's army. "You mean the dwarven wagons?" he said with a curl of his lip. "What do humans care what other humans do to dwarves?"
The lieutenant drew back his hand and hit Nex hard in the face with the back of a gauntleted fist. Nex ducked away from the blow just enough to keep it from doing any serious damage and sprawled to the ground. "Our main source of resupply is the dwarves at Aerie Peak," the man said coldly as Nex pushed back to his feet. "Every man here depends on the generosity of the dwarves for most of their food. Are your people really such fools that you think food carried by dwarves would only be eaten by dwarves?"
"It should be," Nex said, spitting off to the side in mock disgust. "The thought of grubbing a meal provided by their filthy hands sickens me. But in any case if you don't want us raiding your lines, perhaps you should have the food be carried by humans so we know it's going to deserving mouths."
From the barricade a rough dwarven voice cursed loudly. "Ye stand aside, Lieutenant, so I kin shoot this dog."
"Hold!" the lieutenant said sharply. "We're an army of honorable men, and this man has come to us under the flag of truce."
"You only wish your army had nothing but men in it," Nex shot back.
The lieutenant turned back to Nex, scowling. "Although most people depending on the mercy of their enemies speak a bit more fairly to them."
"I didn't come to bandy words with the night sentries," Nex said. "The Crusade has information your Lord General Garithos will want to hear, and my superiors were kind enough to send me to ensure that he hears it."
"Then tell me the information, and I will judge if it is worthy of the attention of the man whose sole guidance holds back endless waves of ravening dead."
Nex raised his hands in mocking apology. "This misunderstanding is my fault, I'm sure. And I'm sorry for it. When I said I have information Garithos will want to hear, what I meant to say is I have orders to give the general, personally, a message of great importance."
The lieutenant hesitated, then shook his head. "That's not good enough."
"It concerns possible treachery in your camp. I can trust it to no one but General Garithos. And if you're one of the traitors then I've already said too much."
The man scowled, but finally stepped back and motioned curtly. "Move then, red dog. And if your information is trivial I'll gut you myself."
"No fear of that," Nex said with a smile. He allowed himself to be led into the camp.
For all Stormrage's words that Garithos led a ragged remnant of the Alliance's former glory, the camp was surprisingly clean and orderly. Each tent was arranged in a circle around an open area with a fire pit, backed by other tents facing the opposite direction. It created a grid that seemed confusing at first, but after a few moments inspection became easy to move through.
Closer towards the center of the camp they began walking past supply dumps and armories in the middle of open spaces lit by torches between them and the tents, and sentries on constant watch. The tents themselves changed from touching circles to lines, allowing people to walk between them along paths wide enough for wagons to pass through. They were bigger tents as well, obviously for officers and casters.
In the very center of the camp there was a wide opening with a line of gibbets, some of which were occupied. A cluster of officers were grimly watching a man being whipped at a post. In their center stood a large man, half a head taller than the next tallest officer and wearing a winged helm. His armor was surprisingly plain, without a hint of laquer or gilding, but it was superbly made and fit him perfectly. It was also the heaviest plate Nex had ever seen.
The lieutenant and his escort led Nex to an area not far away, where they had to watch the whipping and listen to the man scream until it was done. Nex counted fifteen lashes while he was there, and he'd arrived after it began. As two enlisted soldiers dragged the man away Garithos turned to the officers. "That is the price of insubordination," he said simply. "And insubordination is only a step away from treasons. Dismissed." His eyes fell on Nex's group, and after a brief word with an adjutant he strode over. "What is this?" he demanded.
The lieutenant saluted sharply. "Lieutenant Kolarn, Lord General. This man claims to have a message for your ears only."
"Does he?" The general turned to Nex. "I recognize that armor and tabard," he said, voice thick with contempt. "You're part of that red scum that occasionally raids our supply lines." He started to turn away. "Put him in chains, and hang him in the morning. Don't bother informing me when the task is complete, either. I don't know why you thought him worth my attention in the first place."
Nex raised his voice as hands grabbed him. "He brought me to you because I told him I have information you might find interesting. It concerns the treachery of blood elves."
Kolarn struck him a solid blow to the side of the head, and his escort started dragging him away. Before they could, however, Garithos abruptly called them back.
On his knees and fighting dizziness, Nex looked up to see Garithos looming over him. "What would remnant filth know about treachery within my ranks?" he demanded.
Nex fought to keep his expression neutral, though he wanted to smile. "We patrol far through the Plaguelands. Undead do not frighten us. Some of our patrols even go so far as Lordamere Lake. Which is how we came to learn about the treachery of your blood elves. It should surprise no one, given that they aren't human. Only humans are capable of true honor."
Garithos waved his hand impatiently, although Nex had the feeling he didn't object to anything he'd said. "What of this treachery?"
"Our scouts noticed that the blood elves were occupied with repairing arcane observatories in Dalaran. By your orders, I assume. But we noticed that when it came time to reach the island at the center of the lake they had no means across. Rather than building their own ships, or requesting the aid of Alliance vessels, they turned to the naga for aid."
"Naga?" The general frowned. "I've not heard of these creatures."
Nex feigned a shudder. "Lucky for you, Lord General. They're monstrosities, half fish, half snake, that slither across the land like vile serpents. They speak a bastardized version of the blood elves' tongue, which only greater proves the untrustworthiness of both races. It should be no surprise they conspire against you."
Garithos rubbed his chin. "The damn elves did in fact come to me for ships, although I had better things to do with my time than provide them. But it's disturbing that they would turn to these creatures for aid. I had wondered how they got across the lake." He abruptly raised his head, looking suspiciously at Nex. "You may be telling the truth. But if you are lying to me, remnant filth, I-"
"What does it matter if I'm lying to you?" Nex cut in sharply.
The General's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"If I'm right, you have a dagger poised at your right flank ready to tear you open at the Scourge's whim. And if I'm wrong this situation still turns to your advantage."
"I fail to see how," Kolarn said, stepping forward. "Lord General, I feel we've listened to this rascal's lies for long enough. He seeks only to foment discontent among our ranks."
Nex seized the opportunity the lieutenant provided. Had Garithos voiced the objection he would have had to tiptoe around it, but now he could confront it openly. "If you fail to see how then I'll explain it to you. Obviously the Lord General has a notion of what I mean, and if he will consent to listen to my advice then I do have a plan."
The lieutenant sneered at him. "You think we'll listen to the plan of one of the dogs that raids our supply lines?"
Nex threw back his head and laughed. "You call that pitiful trickle of wagons provided by dwarven scum "supply lines?" You're surrounded by supposed "allies" who are hardly allies at all. The dwarves give you token aid while much of their strength remains in Ironforge. And now absurd notions fill their heads of sending out their best men. Not to aid you, but on archeology expeditions. Digging in the dirt, of all things! The Scourge drives humanity back every day, and blood elves consort with filthy fish-beings from the sea, and the only ones we can trust are good, solid humans. It is humanity the Scourge intends to destroy, and it must be humanity who saves us."
Garithos had been watching him with narrowed eyes. "I'm willing to hear you out," he said finally.
"Good. Because the situation with the blood elves can only lead to desirable outcomes. First of all you should recall all your troops serving beneath Kael'thas. If the Blood Prince is truly a traitor it would be as good as murder to leave those loyal soldiers under his command. Then, once the blood elves are isolated from the rest of your army, order them to launch an offensive on the Scourge along the northern bank of Lordamere Lake."
Garithos laughed mockingly. "That's your great plan? A full assault against the Scourge fortifications on the northern shore would be su...i...cide..." he trailed off, eyes going to some distant place as a small smile touched his lips.
Nex smiled viciously. "Precisely, my Lord. If the blood elves refuse the command they brand themselves traitors, and you can slaughter them at your leisure. If they attempt the attack and fail then your problem with the arrogant nonhumans is solved, and any who survive the massacre can be rounded up and hung as deserters. And, in the unlikely event that they succeed in the assault, they remain nominally under your command and the victory is credited to you. As I said, only desirable outcomes."
Garithos was fingering his right gauntlet absently as he watched Nex closely. "I wasn't aware the red dogs had such treacherous minds among their ranks."
Nex threw his shoulders back, knowing it would display the red flame on his chest to full effect. "This is our land. We cannot trust any but humans to redeem it."
"No!" Kolarn cried, rushing forward and falling to his knees before the general. "General Garithos, I have no more love for the arrogant elves than any under your command. My family was housed in Dalaran while I fought in the northern campaign, and it was the blood elves and their machinations that led to their deaths. But what this monster suggests is nothing short of genocide of the elven race!"
"The High Elves," Garithos corrected. "Humanity has served as the lapdogs of those elven wizards for far too long. Even now, when I have been assigned as overlord of the army, Kael'thas still cannot obey orders and consorts with our enemies."
"Is accused of consorting with our supposed enemies!" Kolarn shot back. "Even if these naga do exist, what guarantee do we have that they're our enemies?"
The General's expression had steadily darkened as the lieutenant spoke. At the man's final question his patience seemed to snap. Not into fiery anger, but into a cold, hard rage. "Because they're not human," he said quietly.
Nex fought back a smile. Stormrage had been right about the man's overwhelming xenophobia. He was willing to betray his allies at even the accusation of treachery.
Kolarn stared at his commander in shock, then opened his mouth to protest once more. Garithos forestalled him. "Not another word, lieutenant. Insubordination is just a step away from treason, and you're teetering far too close to the brink of both. I've not made up my mind what to do about this news, but you will not speak again in my presence." He turned to Nex. "I have no love for the ragged remnants that turn on any who come near them as viciously as any rabid dog. But I have no time to deal with religious zealots at the moment. If you will tell your people to stop raiding our lines, I will be pleased to ignore the fact that you exist."
Nex fell to one knee and bowed his head. What would a Scarlet Crusader say in this circumstance? "The Light illumine your current venture," he said. His lips writhed around invoking that name, but it seemed to do the job. Garithos turned away in a gesture of cold dismissal.
"Lieutenant, escort this red crusader to the edge of our camp and see him out of sight. If he attempts to return you have my full permission to feather him with arrows."
"Aye, m'lord," Kolarn said. He caught Nex roughly under the arm and dragged him to his feet, then shoved him forward. "Move, dog."
Nex made no protest as he was herded through the camp, and in the shadows even felt it safe to smile slightly.
At the edge of camp, between the professional barricades, the lieutenant turned on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he demanded. "The last remnant of the elven people huddles on that island in Lordamere Lake. Civilians, women, children. They're all going to die because of your lies."
Nex shrugged. "If they want to live, all they have to do is defeat the Scourge on the northern bank." He turned and started to walk away.
"Where are you going?" Kolarn demanded at his back. "What mischief are you planning now?"
Slowing, Nex looked over his shoulder. "I'm going to the eastern shore of Lordamere Lake, and from there will likely receive orders to join the blood elves in their fight against the undead. They are my master's allies, after all."
He turned and slipped into the night, running for the shimmer of water in the distance. He highly doubted the lieutenant would be intelligent enough to simply keep his words to himself. He would probably go and report them to Garithos, who would take them as another attempt by the man to protect the blood elves. If Kolarn didn't tread carefully, he might end up swinging from a rope himself. What was it Garithos had said?
Ah, yes. Insubordination was just a step away from treason.