Chapter 16
Icecrown, 4 Months Later
It was cold.
Scratch that, Jehann thought, shivering. It was DAMN cold.
Whoever said that the undead were comfortable with the cold, he thought sourly, ought to be drawn and quartered.
Shifting on the back of his mount, Jehann laid a gloved hand to the great beast's neck in silent appreciation for the beast's efforts. The beast in question, a massive Netherdrake, cast amused eyes back over its long back, and spoke inside the mage's mind.
If you continue to shiver with such violence, good mage, I'll be forced to scoop you out of the North Sea.
Jehann snorted in amusement, huddling lower under his cloak and shooting the dragon a wry look. "Just scout the damn island and get me back to dry land," he said, and the ethereal dragon chuckled in his head before falling silent.
Jehann looked down over the drake's flank and lifted a brow.
They were very, very high up.
He retreated back into his cloak, the wind whistling past his face and chilling flesh that should be impervious to cold, he knew… but there was nothing usual about the chill of Northrend, especially when one was dragon-back above the North Sea, flying into the ocean wind. Wanting to get the damn scouting mission over with so he could be done for the day, Jehann kept his grumblings to a minimum out of respect for his drake… the ancient dragon had been his companion for some time, carrying him across the continent more times than he could count, but he was impatient with what he called the "angry buzzing of mortals" and didn't abide petty complaints well.
The drake made a long, wide circuit over the island in question, and Jehann whistled in amazement. Below him was a human settlement, buildings outfitted in reds and whites, and with a chill, he knew he was looking at the largest base for the Scarlet Crusade in the entire world.
He hated the Scarlet Crusade… since their one and only creed was to rid the world of the undead, and since they didn't bother to check for sentience before they started attacking, it was any wonder why.
Gratefully, Jehann felt his old friend shift in the air and start to return the way they'd come. Mentally, he thought of the time remaining in his day, and decided that once he reported his findings back to his superior at Death's Rise, he was damn well heading to Dalaran for a drink and an early night.
Ah, Dalaran, he thought warmly. How he loved that city. As a mage, he could appreciate it in many ways, as it was built by mages and was run by mages… to a mage, strolling the streets of Dalaran was like immersing yourself in your art, and magic could be felt hanging in the very air.
But he could also appreciate the classic beauty of the city, not to mention the top-notch establishments… and the most eclectic mix of people you could ever ask for.
Being a neutral city, Dalaran was host to both the Horde and the Alliance, and since fighting was not tolerated inside the city walls… it was also the perfect place to find a bench near a busy street and watch people as they went about their business.
Of course, he wasn't watching for anyone in particular… just… watching.
Oh hell, he thought tiredly as he submitted his report… you couldn't lie to her, what makes you think you can lie to yourself?
As he asked his drake to carry him to the floating city of Dalaran, he retreated back into his thoughts. Was she alright? Had she returned to her cottage yet? It had been 5 months… surely 5 months among her own people, training and resting and eating, was long enough to see her recover what Keever had robbed from her? Was she lonely? Was she still even on the continent?
Did she lay awake at night and think about him, the way he spent every night walking the streets of Dalaran, thinking about her? Looking for her in every human woman, in every paladin regardless of race, knowing that she was more accessible to him now than she was 8 years ago, and fighting the temptation every night to pay her a visit… on and on, his life extended in front of him in much the same way it had gone for the past 5 months.
I'm going mad, he thought wearily, causing his drake to huff an amused laugh. His drake was well aware of his delimma, and had no real opinion on the matter either way… the dragons were so ancient that the problems of mortals were of little concern to them.
However, his drake thought wryly, it would be a nice change if the mage could think of something else to obsess over every now and then.
That evening, Jehann was in his customary spot… reclining on a bench in one of the quieter areas of the city, staring at the stars, his hands stacked above his head. He was lost in thought, this time reliving one of their more… intimate… days spent together, when his view was suddenly blocked by a large body standing over him.
Blinking, he focussed, frowning slightly. "Can I help you?"
The other man snorted, amused. "Sit up and let me join you, perhaps," he suggested, and with shock, Jehann sat up straight, taking in the heavily armoured rogue grinning down at him.
"Oliver?" he said, stunned, and then he was on his feet, the other man's shoulders in his hands. "By the gods, Oliver, your sister is worried sick about you!"
Oliver laughed, throwing his head back. "Mairwen," he chuckled, "is no longer worried. I've been with her for the past few months."
Hearing her name spoken aloud had Jehann sinking back to the bench, his face paling even further than normal. "You… she's back in her cottage then?"
Oliver nodded, falling onto the bench beside the mage. "Aye," he said, crossing his arms and regarding the mage. "I owe you a life-debt, mage, for returning her to me."
Jehann shot the other man an impatient look. "Don't be ridiculous. I could hardly leave her there… you know what kind of man held her."
Oliver nodded, his eyes burning as he thought of Keever anywhere near his sister. "All the more reason to thank you." He rested a hand on the mage's shoulder. "From my soul, Jehann, thank you… for the rest of whatever life is remaining to me, I'm at your service."
The mage cleared his throat. "Just… look after your sister, rogue, and make sure she lives a long, long life."
Oliver nodded. "I'll make sure of it. Have no fear, mage, I've been absolved of my suspicion among our people and am once again free to keep her out of trouble." He paused. "She has changed a great deal since you left her in Southshore, I'm afraid."
Desperate for any information on her, Jehann leaned forward. "Is she alright?"
"She's alright in the physical sense… she's more the woman I remember," Oliver said. "She's back in her old armour, finally.. And her spells have once again reached the strength they'd been before she was imprisoned." He glanced at the mage, choosing his words carefully. "But she is… dimmed somehow. She laughs rarely, and is quiet in her soul."
Jehann closed his eyes. "Keever," he ground out, "did more damage than I'd realized."
Oliver tilted his head, his expression carefully schooled into a puzzled look. "That's the thing," he said, confused. "She has, for the most part, recovered from her time in our fair city. It's something else that has her saddened, and whatever it is, it's dimming the light inside of her."
Jehann was frozen to the bench, afraid to move, and Oliver continued as if he didn't notice the other man's horror. "I wanted to ask you, as someone who was with her those first days afterwards, if something further happened to her to have her so diminished in her spirit."
Jehann swallowed, staring off into space. "I… I cannot recall, Oliver. She… she was very ill."
Oliver sighed, nodding. "Well, it was worth asking, anyway." He paused, then said suddenly, "You didn't notice her talking in her sleep during your time together, did you?"
Surprised, Jehann met the other man's eyes. "No, never… why?"
Oliver shrugged, standing. "She speaks in her sleep now, disjointed words that make little sense… but most of the time the words are in Orcish."
Jehann tilted his head, intrigued. "Can you make out the words?"
Oliver shrugged. "Last I stayed with her, she had been having a bizarre conversation with someone in her dreams. She asked whoever it was what took them so long." He slid slyly glowing eyes to the mage. "And then called them a stubborn goat."
Bingo, Oliver thought with delight, seeing the mage pale even further. While he hadn't been sure if it was Jehann his sister spoke to in her dream a few nights ago, he'd had his suspicions, and they'd now been confirmed.
His demure little sister had obviously called the mage a stubborn goat during their time together.
He slanted another look to Jehann. "You wouldn't happen to know who she was talking to, would you?"
For the first time, Jehann caught the sly tone to the rogue's voice, and his eyes narrowed in anger when he saw the knowing look in the other man's eyes. "I'm sure I don't," he said, his voice dripping ice. He stood smoothly. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Oliver, but it's late and I have a prior engagement elsewhere."
Amused, Oliver let the mage get a few steps away when he said, softly, "She misses you, mage."
Jehann stopped in his tracks, head bowed, but he didn't turn. "She needs to move past it," he said, gritting his teth. "And she needs to stop sending her brother to ambush me in efforts to change my mind."
"To the contrary," Oliver said, raising, "Mairwen has no idea I'm here."
The mage lifted startled eyes to his, and he nodded. "It's the truth. I didn't dare tell her I was here… she's determined to never bother you again, and if she had any idea of where I was right now, she'd most likely feed me to her cow."
Jehann registered distant amusement at the memory of his bovine nemesis, but pushed past it. "Then… then why are you here?" Jehann asked, puzzled.
Oliver sighed, tilting his head. "Because I think you forgot one thing when you made your honourable and difficult decision."
When the mage only stared at him, Oliver shrugged, starting to turn away. "You're convinced she'll wither with you in her life? Well, she's withering without you as well… and you forgot to take into account that perhaps, come what may, she loves you enough to find life without you unbearable."
He paused, turning back long enough to lay a hand on the mage's shoulder. "There is nothing dishonourable," he whispered fervently. "in wanting only the best for the people we love. But sometimes, we ARE what's truly best for them." With a final squeeze on the mage's shoulder, he turned and stalked away, not looking back.
Jehann, shaking, stumbled back to the bench and sank down onto it, burying his face in his hands.
When he lifted his head a few minutes later, his jaw was set, his eyes narrow, and he stood in a rush, moving purposefully towards the Horde quarter of the city.
Dammit, he'd be damned if he was going to make this decision alone… not now that he was ready to believe that perhaps she really did love him as deeply as she claimed.
As an afterthought, as he stepped through the portal leading to the Undercity and made his way to the flight master, he wondered if he should wear his helm… he figured odds were good she'd be coming out swinging once she realized who he was.
The thought of dodging her fists had him grinning, and he realized he must have it bad indeed if he was even looking forward to her abuse.
This is far too easy, he thought wryly later, watching idly as the hillsides rolled away underneath his riding bat. He was on his way to Tarren Mill, intending to make the trip from there, and he'd be willing to bet it would be a quicker one these days… Echo was much faster, not to mention much more patient, than the rickety nag he'd forced over the mountain 8 years ago.
Yes, he thought again laterstill, as he departed from the Mill & turned north, a decision this easy to make must surely be the right one… right?
The small sarcastic voice inside him, silent for so long, piped up.
Don't you DARE start second-guessing this decision, buddy.
With a grin, Jehann gave Echo full lead and bent low over the warhorse's neck, feeling the ground fall away beneath him, exhilarated as they ate the miles between man and lake.
Between the mage and the paladin.
His heart growing lighter with every mile they passed, Jehann cast a long shadow behind them as his figure grew ever smaller on the horizon, heading through the mountain pass. Before long, the mage's silhouette melted into the sky, and he was gone.
The only evidence that he'd ever been there was the slowly settling dust, drifting silently back to the dry road over which Jehann Frostheart had just passed for the last time.