When I eventually came to I found myself lying on an old bedroll. Gone were the toxic air and spires of pus masquerading as trees. In their place were dying forests, the dank smell of a swamp, and the distant howls of wild creatures. Carts fashioned into barricades stood nearby and heavily armed Forsaken soldiers patrolled in the distance, each hunched over and gazing across the wilderness. A Forsaken doctor kneeled at my side, carefully stitching my stump of a leg shut. It was numb from anesthetic so I couldn't feel the doctor's needle, but every tug of the thread made me think it was attached directly to my stomach. While this was going on, Fyodora was speaking to what looked like a priestess. The undead woman's garments were torn but bright against the otherwise dreary scenery, making a stark contrast against the sullen Death Knight. Noticing I was awake, Fyodora excused herself and came to my side.

She leaned over for a closer look, "How is the wound?"

I did a double-take, surely this monster jested! I was unable to conjure the words necessary to describe the exquisite emotions I felt but the doctor was more than willing to give his two cents.

"Your quick intervention may have prevented the plague from spreading. Only time will tell," he croaked in the guttural tone of his people.

"Quick intervention!?" I shouted. "She cut my damn leg off!"

"And it saved your life."

"IT WAS A FLESH WOUND!" I grabbed the Death Knight by the collar of her armor and dragged her down to meet my gaze, "Has your brain rotted as much as your soul!?"

A strand of pink hair flopped over her ear and across her eyes, other than that she gave me no readable expression.

"One curse is not enough it seems, now I have to live the rest of my life as a half-breed AND an invalid!"

I felt a sharp smack up the back of my head as the doctor glared at me, the needle clenched in his yellow teeth. "You brat, if Rimewind didn't stop the plague from spreading when she did you'd be a shambling corpse right now."

I snarled in incredulity at the smarting pain, "From a simple bite?!"

"There's nothing simple about a bite from a plague ghoul, you imbecile."

The doctor tied the thread and snipped it off with a pair of tiny scissors. I looked at my residual limb; just six inches of flesh below my knee was all that remained. There was no pain but that didn't stop my heart from skipping a beat as I ran my fingers over the fresh stitches.

Fyodora looked at my wound, then back at me, "I did what had to be done. I am only sorry it had to be so drastic."

My anger was building, the pressure in my head frothing into my ears and bleeding into my eyes until I couldn't see straight. Try as I might to respond, all I could manage was a grunt.

"It is not so bad. You will quickly learn to live with it, I am sure."

I roared in visceral fury and tried as hard as I could to shove her away. She was heavy in full armor though and I was lying on my back, so all I managed to do was awkwardly spin myself around. My stump knocked against the ground in the process and sent a jolt of pain into my lower back. Seething with frustration I silently cursed her, slamming my fist into the dirt.

The doctor leaned out of the away, shaking his head in disgust, "If you pull those stitches out I'm not putting them back."

I ignored him, my blazing eyes fixed on the Death Knight, "Live with it?! I ought to take your leg as compensation. Let's see how you live with it."

"Compensation?" she replied.

"I never should have cast aside my common sense to save you from that damned ambush."

Her tone immediately dropped, "You cast your common sense away long before Corin's Crossing, child. I do not require your aid, quite the opposite. Perhaps I should leave you in Tirisfal where you can do no more harm to yourself."

Through the haze of my anger the Death Knight's intimidation seemed shallow, "This only happened because you picked a fight with an entire Scourge stronghold." I leaned over so I could throw my finger in her face, "A stronghold you waltzed right into!"

"I did what?" she growled.

"No attempt at subterfuge, no plan, just walk in and start swinging!"

Fyodora's eyes narrowed, "Mind your tongue, mage."

"Or else what, you're going to chop that off too?"

The Death Knight stood up, her hands clenching, "I am finished with this. Return to your tower or Tirisfal or whatever wretched hole birthed you. Perhaps you will realize what it is like without someone to carry you along."

"Yeah? And maybe when the doctor is done with my leg he'll sew your mouth shut."

"Leave me out of this," the doctor proclaimed, inspecting his work again.

The Death Knight stormed off as I lay back in the makeshift bedding with indignation. It looked like we were on the outskirts of the Tirisfal Glades, the gloomy home of the Forsaken people. I recalled my shock at their presence in the Ghostlands. God, that felt so long ago. I'd seen enough undead to last me a lifetime, and between my anger and loss I couldn't think straight. At some point the Forsaken priest approached the two of us as the doctor finished bandaging my stump.

"Careful, he'll take a finger off," the doctor said.

The priest's expression twisted, her eyeless sockets furrowing with her brow, "The boy is in pain and scared out of his wits. I'd like to see how you reacted the day you were turned."

"A far cry more dignified, my dear," he replied.

"Well not all of us are such a gentleman," she said, her raspy voice stained with sarcasm.

The doctor moved out of her way so she could look over his handiwork. It was still a fresh wound and the blood was just starting to seep into the first layer of bandages. "Tsk tsk, I suppose there's only so much we can do out in the field," she said, gingerly running her hand over the gauze.

"What are you doing now?" I demanded, but the priest placed her skeletal hand on my shoulder to calm me down. It was only then that I noticed I was bandaged there too, all down my torso in fact. Just how injured was I?

"Keep calm, dear. I'll try to make this quick." The priest began channeling mana, her healing spell taking an obvious toll on her constitution. As far as I knew, although it healed them, the Forsaken were pained just by invoking the Light. Even though their souls were cleansed their bodies were not, or something like that. It was times like this I regretted not taking mother's advice and attending the priesthood myself.

As the spell washed over me I felt my body knit itself whole in moments. The wounds were closed and fractured bones mended, leaving only bruises and soreness behind. Nothing could bring my leg back though. Relieved of some of the pain and removed from my antagonists, I felt the shock of the event finally give way. Tears welled in my eyes as I sobbed through gritted teeth. I closed my eyes, hoping in that moment it would go away, that somehow this would all rewind back to the afternoon before I started this damn quest. I felt the priest's hand on my shoulder again and tried to calm myself down enough to speak.

"It's alright, Ignatius was it?" she said.

"Yes…" I said, opening my eyes and staring into the middle distance. "I don't understand… why she had to cut it off…"

"The plague spreads quickly," the priest replied. "It took a long time for Rimewind to reach us here in the Bulwark and she had to carry you the whole way."

She was correct, the morning sun was on the horizon already. Who knows how long I was out? I thought of Fyodora carrying me through those wretched wastelands and bringing me here, the Scourge at her heels the entire way. Guilt sank into my conscience, my comments to her were out of line. Furthermore I should have never darkened this enterprise with my presence to begin with. The priest held my hand, staring at me expectantly.

"Fyodora, my sister, even my own mother," I said absently. "They all warned me to stay in Theramore. I thought I could be an adventurer too, that all I had to do was prove myself." My head bowed under the weight of my own admission, "All I proved was how right they were."

The priest's empty eyes looked right through me, "You have a darkness inside you, child."

When she spoke it was like a spotlight from her mind was cast on my emotions. My gut felt bitter and the resentfulness of my own shortcomings began pooling inside me like melting lead. Glancing in her direction I quickly turned away, afraid of what she might see.

"I can feel it, you know. We Forsaken are as attuned to the Shadow as we are the Light."

A lump grew in the back of my throat, "Wait, are you saying I'm still stricken with the plague!?"

She smiled, "Well, we'll have to wait and find out, but I don't think so."

"Oh," I said. "Then what?"

She ran a bony finger from my neck, down my chest, to my heart. "You're angry about what you are, or perhaps what you have become. I have seen this many times in the other Forsaken, usually just after they turn."

This wasn't news to me. Anyone who knew I was a half-breed also knew I wasn't in any way pleased about my condition. With an indignant shrug I replied, "I'm sure you have."

"It can be dangerous to let these feelings go unaddressed. You don't have the protection of the Light on your side, remember."

"Oh really?" I said, "And just how should I 'address' them?"

"Only you can answer that."

"Very helpful."

"But might I make a suggestion?" she said, her expression stiffening. "Don't drive away people willing to help you because of your own insecurity. Your situation may not be ideal but it is far better than it could have been. Besides, in a manner of speaking, Rimewind did repay your favor."

My stare hardened as I slowly turned to face her, the last of my pride fighting back, but I knew she was right. After a moment my eyes fell to the dusty ground, "I apologize."

She gently patted my thigh, a thin smile crawling up her leathery face, "Rest up, child. Your adventure is through now."

"No," I said. "No, I still need to find my father."

Overhearing my words, Fyodora shook her head, shouldered her blade, and began walking south. I immediately shouted after her and she turned on her heels with agitation, "You are not fit to travel, I will continue this search alone."

"I cannot give up now, not when I've come so far already," I said, sitting more upright. The priest pressed me back but I brushed her hand away.

The Death Knight put her helmet back on, "Your spilled blood will not buy you an easier path. Regardless, we are through the Plaguelands. You will be safe in Tirisfal and I suggest you stay there while I finish my quest."

"Your quest?" I grabbed my staff and struggled to pull myself to my feet… or, foot. "You said it yourself; this is my quest to lead."

There was no response but the grip on her sword tightened.

"You were right, I admit it. I wasn't prepared for the trials of the Plaguelands." I shifted on my staff-crutch as I tried to balance myself, "I didn't understand the danger of this land and I was a fool for trying to follow so brazenly. I'm sorry."

"Your apology is duly noted, and if the road south were clear I might have you along," she replied. "However it is still treacherous and you are now severely handicapped."

"Severely what!?"

Fyodora watched as I struggled to move towards her, hobbling precariously between my quarterstaff and my good leg. Listening to our conversation, the doctor groaned and broke off what he was doing with one of the Bulwark guards stationed behind us. I heard him shuffling in one of the wagons but paid him little attention. Fyodora stared at me with that same dead-eye look she always had and for once I wasn't disturbed. I met her gaze, determination bracing me as much as my staff.

"You have the audacity to condemn me for trying to prove my worth, and then in the same breath you slander my abilities."

The Death Knight raised her hand, "I meant no offense."

I stood as straight as I could. My arm was weak from hunger and exhaustion and shook under my full weight as I held myself up. "I am a mage of Theramore. My talents will not be discounted by a mere flesh wound." I flicked what was left of my dangling limb to emphasize my point. "If you will not take me with you then I shall find my father on my own, even if it means crawling to Southshore."

The Death Knight regarded me for a moment. I couldn't tell if it was my lack of sleep or the trauma of the night's events but I didn't feel intimidated by her anymore. Maybe it was because I'd already felt her blade once. Regardless, after some consideration she replied, "How do you intend to travel in this condition?"

"Hold on," the doctor griped, pulling things to and fro from the wagon.

In a minute he approached me with some leather straps, a couple pieces of wrought iron, and what looked like a table leg. He held it up to me, looked at my residual limb sternly, then took a quick measurement. It appeared this was to be my new prosthesis. I watched as he lopped off a section of the polished wood and considered what I would look like hobbling around on a piece of furniture. The doctor nailed the metal into it as a brace and began affixing the makeshift peg leg to my own.

"Is that going to hold my weight?" I asked as he secured the straps.

"Well we don't have a whole lot of options out here," was his terse response. "It's not going to be a permanent fixture but it should get you down the road at least."

When the last piece of leather was cinched I shook my wooden appendage. It seemed sturdy enough; the thick gauze and bandages wrapped around my freshly healed stump helped to cushion it. Most of the pressure was absorbed by my thigh, the strips of leather and old iron bracing the wood to my upper leg. Unfortunately this deprived me of the use of my knee but it was better than nothing. I tried taking a few tottering steps. The occasional stab of pain shot into my back but the leg itself felt planted. The doctor shook his head as I limped along, using my staff for support.

"You're going to have fun with that in Andorhal," he said.

I turned around, leaning awkwardly on my good leg, "I thank you for your work, doctor. And I'm um, sorry about my language earlier."

"We'll see if you're thanking me after an hour walking on that thing," he replied. "You're going to be so sore you'll beg Rimewind to take the rest of the leg off."

"Are you sure you are fit to travel?" the Death Knight asked.

"As fit as I'll ever be."

Tenuously I hobbled down the road, the Death Knight watching me for a bit before following. I suppose she wanted to see if I was actually able to move using the prosthetic, or maybe she was waiting to see if I was serious. Either way, the two of us trekked south, this time with me leading and her following a comfortable distance behind. The going was slow at first but my stave made learning to use the new leg quite a bit easier. Before long I had a steady gait going, although I preferred to walk in the grass rather than the road. The cobblestones were miserable and I kept losing my footing. In spite of my awkward pace and frequent stumbles we found ourselves nearing the city before the sun was even fully in the sky.

"Andorhal," Fyodora said behind me. "I cannot believe Jack actually passed through here."

"Are you sure he did?" I replied. "Maybe he went west through the Forsaken's land."

The Death Knight gave a metallic chuckle, "And miss a chance to fight the Scourge? Doubtful. Besides, your father was no friend of Lordaeron."

I nodded, being well aware of both his tendencies and reputation. Still, it was worth a try. From what I'd heard, Andorhal used to be a large human city many years ago. Now that it was considered part of the Plaguelands, and being located so close to the dreaded School of Necromancy, I could only imagine how thick the Scourge presence was. Clutching my staff for support I tottered beside the road, looking for any sign of undead. It didn't take long for us to find them. Scourge patrols roamed freely out in the open. These weren't just random undead either, they looked regimented and controlled, like a regular army.

"Is this… a border guard?" I asked as Fyodora came up behind me. A platoon of undead marching five abreast skirted the road outside the city gates.

"It seems so, these Scourge are likely mobilized in force against the Forsaken." Without another word she raised her blade and began to march towards them, just like at Corin's Crossing.

I caught her arm, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Your father went through Andorhal, I must follow."

"This is the exact same thing that happened last time," I replied. "I can't lose another leg. We're going to do this slow and quiet."

Fyodora looked at my prosthetic for a second, "Well, slowly at any rate." She removed her arm from my grasp and motioned for me to follow.

Lowering herself down by a row of buildings, Fyodora crept along a roadside drainage gutter. With a hard swallow I snuck along after her, using my good leg almost exclusively to keep my footing in the damp culvert. It wasn't long before we reached the first street corner. Security was comparatively sparse this far out, a mere pair of skeletal warriors was left to guard the entire lane as the regular patrols marched by. We slipped by the guard without a hitch by crawling under the road, the culvert becoming so low in places that it forced my face into the brackish runoff.

At the second crossing we had no choice but to fight. Several zombies guarded the street and the ditch turned sharply away, forcing us to cross in the open. With lethal precision the Death Knight waited until the guards wandered a little too close, then leapt from the culvert with supernatural agility. Her flying strike cleaved the first zombie in two. Its partner could barely turn its head before she whirled the runeblade around, striking it at the waist and burrowing her blade up inside its chest. Two more charged her from the other side of the road, their bloated limbs flailing to and fro just like the Scourge of the Eastern Plaguelands. I began hurrying out of the ditch to assist, but in one deft bloodstrike the Death Knight cut them down like saplings, their diseased fluids running into the gutter she'd just crawled out of. The entire thing was clean and almost noiseless, save for some undignified splashing while I heaved my wooden leg over the ledge of the culvert.

With our foes dispatched the Death Knight watched me clamber to my feet. We were at the interior of the city now, with high and tight-knit buildings on all sides pressing in on narrow roads. The alleyways it seemed would serve as a safe means of travel. Although they were occasionally guarded there was far less open space, allowing us to zig-zag across the city faster than if we'd plowed straight through. We dashed between buildings, Fyodora cutting the heads off any Scourge that stood in our path. I could tell with every encounter that she was growing more anxious to fight, but in a city of this size with this many Scourge I could only imagine what would happen if she went off her metaphorical leash.

When we emerged on an avenue skirting the center of town, both of us froze as an ear-piercing scream filled the air. Fyodora hurried to the low wall of a destroyed house nearby, allowing her to peek into the courtyard beyond. I was having a hard time with the paving stones but managed to catch up. The Death Knight gave no indication of noticing my approach. She'd removed her helmet to get a better look, her attention entirely fixed on the spectacle in the city square. A ghostly, skeletal figure loomed over a smoking cauldron, chanting an incantation in a language I did not recognize. I watched almost as if I was in a trance as the cauldron pumped the surrounding air full of whatever pestilence grew within it. The smell was saccharine and moist, similar to the Eastern Plaguelands but less pervasive. Beside this Scourge, shackled to a metal post, was what appeared to be a Draenei paladin.

"What is this?" I asked, mystified.

"Araj the Summoner," Fyodora replied. "He is a lich, though when I knew him he was headmaster of the Scholomance. His presence here is curious."

I gave her a bizarre look then turned back to the scene before us. Terror stained the Draenei's face as the cauldron was brought to a rolling boil, the plumes of smoke wafting over her face. Anxiously I whispered, "What is he doing with that paladin?"

Fyodora was silent for a minute, drumming her fingers on the edge of the wall, "He is attempting to corrupt her with the plague."

The lich's cauldron burbled and shook like an unstable alchemy flask, his magic the only thing holding its infectious contents in check. "But… the plague can't corrupt paladins, can it?"

"Araj is a clever alchemist," she said wistfully. "Regardless, that is not our concern right now. We must devise a plan to get past."

"What?" Ducking behind the wall I turned myself around, leaning against the cold brick to face the Death Knight. "You're just going to let that Draenei die?"

"Her fate is her own. I am sworn to Jack Radical and his cause, none other." The Death Knight pointed towards the empty southern road that lay just beyond, "Besides, the Summoner's display appears to be a fitting distraction."

I looked out over the courtyard again. The fumes choked the paladin where she stood to the amusement of all the intelligent Scourge present. Even the mindless ghouls nodded and shook their bulging limbs, appreciative of the agony the lich inflicted. It was indeed a… fitting distraction. We could run around the outskirts of the courtyard, make our way south, and be gone by the time the Scourge finished with their captive. As I thought through our escape I felt my hands ball into fists. The paladin hacked up some black ichor and fell over, her breathing labored.

"We have to help her," I said, clutching my staff.

The Death Knight paused. Not like her usual pause, where she considered how much artificial humanity was necessary to respond, but a knee-jerk hesitation brought on by some anxiety, or dare I even say, fear. Without looking me in the eye she replied, "I cannot defeat Araj."

I let out a smug grunt, "What? And here I thought you were invincible. Can't the mighty Fyodora just stroll into any Scourge formation unassisted?"

She snapped her head around, glaring at me with those two burning sapphires she called eyes, "Firstly, you shall address me as Rimewind, young mage. You have worn out all familiarity."

I nodded, my heart skipping a beat.

"Second, these Scourge are numerous, fattened, and entrenched. Fighting them would put our mission and your life at risk even more than Corin's Crossing."

Every fiber of my being was crying for me to just sit there and shut up. I held my breath in anticipation, guarding the air in my lungs like the gates of hell. I couldn't fight all those Scourge and especially not a lich. To do so would be suicide, and for what, some stray paladin I didn't know? Who was she to me anyway? At least my father was blood and I already regretting taking this path for his sake. As I watched the paladin's face grow pale a chill came over me like a blanket. I'd set out on this journey to prove myself. If I didn't intervene now, well, there would be no question what kind of mage I was. Prying my lips open, I mouthed a response before finally finding the words to fill it, "If you won't help her, then I refuse to carry on."

Rimewind didn't say anything, her countenance tight, waiting for me to explain my insubordination.

I looked back over the wall at the terrific display below, "As far as I'm concerned, this is my father's cause. I cannot leave this paladin to die while I go searching for him. How could I look him in the eyes with her blood on my hands?" I stood up, careful to stay concealed behind the crumbling wall, "We have to try."

Still glaring at me, the Death Knight's lips widened into a sickly grin, "You are Jack Radical's child after all."

Her words didn't even register. A nervous energy wracked my body, my breaths shuddering as I realized what I'd just committed myself to. "Do you have a plan?"

"Your rescue, your plan," she replied.

I peeked around the wall just in time to see the paladin's body go limp. If we were going to get her out alive we didn't have time to talk about it. My eyes scanned the rest of the courtyard. All around the scene, skeletal warriors and rabid zombies roamed the open town center and patrolled the buildings as though claiming the land through sheer saturation of numbers. The road was still clear though. A captured paladin was quite an event it seemed.

"Well?" she asked.

I turned around, the tremor in my voice betraying me, "You run in and create a distraction while I follow behind. Break the paladin free and get her out of harm's way. When you make your move… I'll handle the lich."

Rimewind raised an eyebrow at this, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, not looking her in the face lest she see my uncertainty. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"A plan worthy of a Radical," she said, placing her helmet on.

"Yeah… we'll see," I muttered to myself.

Yearning to slay more Scourge, Rimewind leapt the wall and charged across the courtyard, cleaving her way through every undead creature that happened to be within swinging distance. Her attack was so sudden it took a moment for the lich to realize what was going on. Most of the Scourge were too distracted to notice and she'd easily slain a dozen by the time I awkwardly surmounted the same wall. As the Death Knight worked her way towards the captive, Araj reared back in surprise.

"Rimewind! It has been quite some time!" His grating voice floated around my ears. I could sense the power of undeath emanating from his being as I hobbled closer, unnoticed in the wake of the mighty Death Knight. "What brings you to my humble dwelling?"

"Araj, why are you not in Scholomance?" Rimewind said, prying her blade from a skeleton's ribcage as a dozen more circled her just out of striking range.

"The Lich King was quite pleased with my progress before his untimely demise. Since then I have made some… acquisitions." Araj floated down towards the Death Knight, his vaporous form melding in with the cauldron smoke.

Rimewind swung her blade, striking a skeletal mage in mid-conjuration with a death coil. The mage shattered into bone fragments as the other soldiers began to close ranks. Ice magic swirled in the lich's grasp but Rimewind lashed out with a spell of her own, halting his sorcery. The permanent, cruel smile on Araj's face widened, "Oh Rimewind, you know how much I used to adore your Order."

The Death Knight cut down a zombie as two more leaped forward. Jumping out of the way, she landed on one foot and spun around, hacking a warrior behind her in two. Araj's eyes lit with an off-color gold as ribbons of shadow swirled from his hands, tying themselves around the Death Knight. Rimewind fell to her knees, struggling against the lich with her own runic power.

With a groan she pried herself free of his magic, her sword slicing through the tendril that connected them. "You are a far sight weaker than I remember, Araj. Your time with the younglings has softened you."

The lich laughed or shrieked, it was difficult to tell, "You are one to talk! Your traitorous legion is but a shadow of its former glory." He glided effortlessly towards her, circling Rimewind and the unconscious Draenei at her feet. "So much so in fact, I may even be moved to mercy." He whispered to all present, the words slipping in my ears like a silken finger, "I have always wanted a Death Knight among my retinue."

In one stroke of her mighty blade, Rimewind threw a death coil at the lich and severed the chains on the paladin's body. Araj dismissed her magic with a wave of his hand but it gave her a chance to grab his captive. Scourge minions clamored towards her almost immediately and she raised her runeblade high in the air.

"Aranal!" she called. Just like before, a dozen zombies came forth, ripping shutters from windows and breaking down doors to fight for their new master. Undead butchered undead while Rimewind charged through the confusion, the Draenei slung over her shoulder like an armored sack of potatoes. I watched as she frantically swung her blade, cutting down what Scourge she could while plowing headlong through the rest. In seconds I lost her through the crowd of skeletons now swarming the courtyard, their groans and gibbering rising like thunder off the walls of the city. The lich began to channel his shadow magic, his foul burning eyes fixed on the Death Knight's progress through the mob. This was my chance.

With a flick of my wrist I unleashed a counterspell. The lich was so taken aback he nearly stumbled in midair, looking to see who could be so bold and so foolish. Propped up on my staff and with my table leg slightly offset by the constant crawling and running I didn't present the most imposing adversary. Nevertheless I stood my ground. All I had to do was hold out until Rimewind found a break in the enemy.

"A child?" the lich mused, wafting down to my level. With the grace of an autumn breeze he floated by, slicing my stomach open anew with finger bones sharpened into knives. I tried to strike him with my staff but missed, the wooden end clunking off the paving stones. Araj channeled the shadows and raked me with his claws once more. With closed fists I endured the blow, waiting for his spell to complete.

Both hands shot open as I unleashed my mana, feeling myself split into pieces. The lich's shadowbolt went right through my hollow copy, the image of me going up in a cloud of smoke. Two more imitations were to his right while I stood behind him. All of us, or should I say all of me, conjured frostbolt spells and pelted him rapid-fire. The lich reeled back, striking out at the two figments on his right. My trick already failing I spared a glance towards Rimewind. The trail of bodies indicated she was at the far end of the courtyard now but I could still see the huddled mass of undead weighing her down.

I had only one idea left, one that might claim the lich, myself, even half the city. Throwing up my mana shield I began to conjure a pyroblast, edging further and further away from Araj as I did. The lich struck me with his ghostly knife-fingers, my purple barrier crackling with every blow. His power was so strong that in just a few quick strikes my shield nearly collapsed. I could feel the mana drain from my body like a sieve as I concentrated on my spell. Flames built between my hands until white heat radiated off the adjacent walls. As I finished my incantation, the lich wound up for a coup-de-grace. His claw seemed to dance across the air as it flew towards my heart and I slammed my eyes shut.

Opening them once more I found Araj stabbing at thin air. I was standing clear across the courtyard next to Rimewind, a pile of Scourge at her feet and many more groaning to her side. The lich launched himself towards us as I unleashed my spell. A colossal ball of fire lurched from my hands and sailed over the closing Scourge warriors. It passed Araj, who hardly even noticed it, and landed directly on his plague cauldron. The explosion wasn't nearly powerful enough to destroy the cloying amalgam held within but it broke his magical constraints, causing the bubbling mass to overflow. Black smoke saturated the air as murky pops and bangs echoed all around. I pressed Rimewind against a wall by the side of the road, sandwiching her between my body and the aging brick. With the last of my mana I enveloped myself in ice, shielding the three of us from the ensuing carnage.

A burst of flame erupted from the cauldron, barely visible through the choking fumes. Araj began to chant a spell but it was too late to stop the unstable reaction. The plague exploded from its container, showering the Scourge around us with the contagion. Zombies and skeletons appeared to liquefy, their bodies turning into jelly and their bones to darkened stumps. My icy barrier melted in places but held firm enough to shield us from the caustic sludge. I could feel my concentration waning as my mana ran out, the frost sinking into my body with every passing second.

When the deluge ceased, Rimewind nodded to me and I relinquished my spell. We bolted south as fast as we could, the smoke covering our exit. My eyes immediately burned with the foetid gas and even while holding my breath I could feel it sting my nostrils. I clutched my staff for dear life as we ran flat out, galloping along on my wooden leg as fast as it would take me. When the vile smoke was no longer surrounding us I released my lungs, gasping for precious clean air. Rimewind looked over her shoulder, the paladin was beginning to move.

"Which way do we go?" I asked, sneezing out an oily black residue. We'd been running so hard to get away from the plague that I'd lost my sense of direction.

Rimewind led me towards an intersection. From the left came an entire platoon of skeletal warriors and mages charging headlong to their master's aid. From the right, zombies and plague ghouls ran towards the commotion with and a pair of abominations in tow, blocking the lane. I glanced warily at the Death Knight; my magic was completely spent. She didn't look much better either, her armor was worn from combat and her posture seemed fatigued, if such a thing was even possible for a Death Knight.

The paladin she carried started coming to and spotted the advancing Scourge formation behind the Death Knight. With a feeble yelp the Draenei pointed and began squirming to get down. Rimewind held her firmly with one arm and grabbed me with the other, throwing me over her shoulder like a handbag. I nearly dropped my staff as she hauled us across the street, Scourge closing in from either side in waves of frantic undead bodies. With a running leap she vaulted into a culvert much like the one we'd used to infiltrate Andorhal. This one however was blocked with a storm gate, its rusted steel bars jagged and loose from years of decay. Rimewind kicked one out and it clattered against the cement, rolling forward into a sewer hole.

I yelled out, "You're not going down there are you!?"

There was no reply save the gut-wrenching fall as she pressed between the bars and carried us down the yawning sewer. It was about a fifteen foot drop and when we struck bottom Rimewind lost her grip. The channel was heavily slanted, sending all of us rolling down in ankle-deep water until we smacked up against another storm gate that led into the river. I pushed the half-conscious Draenei off me as the sound of more splashing reverberated throughout the cement shaft. Several of the Scourge had followed us in.

"We're trapped!" I shouted, trying to right myself.

"No we are not," said Rimewind, slamming her blade against the lock.

The metal gate opened on a hinge and I tumbled out, the paladin right behind me. I landed on my back and she forced me underwater, her body weighed down by the chainmail, pinning me to the riverbed. There was the sound of metal clanging and the muffled growl of zombies as I kicked and flailed in the muddy water. When the Draenei was lifted off I pulled myself up for air, realizing suddenly that I was missing something. The zombies clawed the air mercilessly as they pressed against the storm gate. My wooden leg was jammed in the latch, sealing them inside. Broken leather straps floated lazily with the current having torn off in the escape.

Rimewind grabbed me under the arm and hoisted me up. She was standing on what appeared to be two thin wafers of frost emanating from the tips of her boots with the paladin slung over her shoulder once more. Unable to walk myself, I was carried in a similar fashion. With every step she took more frost appeared, fading behind her as quickly as it came. The whole way we passengers bobbed up and down helplessly. The Draenei looked like she was unconscious again and I wasn't doing well myself. My wounds burned where the lich had torn me open and I could feel blood seeping onto the Death Knight's pauldrons.

When at last we came ashore Rimewind laid both of us down against a tree. The ground was muddy and filthy and covered in all kinds of vile moss but I didn't care. I looked over at the paladin, her head lolling to the side. Every inch of her was coated in filth and grime but she was alive. We all were. I grinned, beaming up at the midday sun overhead. My smile turned into a chuckle, and my chuckle into full hysterics as I rolled over on my side.

"What is so amusing?" Rimewind asked, securing her armor.

"We did it!" I cried, grabbing the paladin by the shoulders and giving her a good shake. "We survived!"

The Draenei's eyes opened as she coughed up some river water. Panting and choking, she slowly looked up towards Rimewind. The Death Knight stared back at her nonchalantly. The gore of the undead which caked her already grisly armor slowly dripped into the river. Eyes wide with fright she turned to me, the bloodied, filthy, and jubilant elf shaking her senseless. I don't know what went through her mind as she awoke to that horrific scene, nor do I know precisely what she did after, because the next thing I saw was a chain-covered fist cracking me in the eye.