My little story is winding down to an end. If all goes well, this is the second to last chapter for this story. If you like how its going. Or want to make some last minute predictions, drop a review. Hope you like it.

Chapter 15

Aloos jumps down from the trees to land gently before Tyrr and I. "Ye were right mon. Not a single guard on da outside. I slipped a few floors down. Whole place is empty."

I smile. Are you scared yet, Sylvanas; locked in your subterranean fortress, surrounded by your royal guard? You know I'm coming, but are you paranoid now that your assassins have failed? Are you stupid enough to send your armies out, stretched so thin I can slip through your precious Undercity with minimum resistance? I think you are.

You still don't know that I'm that anonymous source who tipped you off about the tauren called the Greywalker. I've been planning this for years. I knew if I could plant the seed of fear, it would blossom into paranoia. After Booty Bay, you're ready to shoot at every shadow and silhouette. You're scared, aren't you Dark Lady. You're sending patrols out every hour. You're working your resources too thin, trying to stop me before I reach you. If you were smart, you'd clump every thing that can hold a sword or cast a spell around you. You know I'm coming, and you're desperate to stop me. Well, too late.

"I don't feel good about this," the troll continues. "I can help ye mon."

"I know Aloos. But I need you to do this for me."

"I'm not afraid to die mon."

"I'm not afraid of your death either," I chuckle.

"What are you two talking about?" Tyrr asks ignorantly. One of my fist lashes out and hits the elf's jaw just hard enough to knock her out. For just a moment, her soft, slender body tenses. Then, in my arms, she goes limp.

"I don't feel right bout this mon," Aloos says, taking her from me.

"Just don't rape her," I growl condescendingly.

"She is a beauty. Loves ye mon. Talks in her sleep a lot. Ye feel da same?"

"I guess," I shrug.

"She'll want to know what happened to ye."

"Tell her I'm dead. After this it'll probably be true."

Slinging the elf over his shoulder, Aloos disappears into the forest's thick underbrush, unhindered by the weight of the elf on his shoulder. I turn my back on them, probably for the last time ever. Hesitant at first, then quicker as the spirits will me on, I emerge from the forest. Every logical bone in my body wants me to run back into the safety of the forest and hide with Tyrr. But I can't. I've come too far, killed too many people to give up now. Dark Lady, I'm coming for you.

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The surface of Undercity is unguarded. When I reach the stairwell to the lower caverns, I realize I'm gripping my hammer so tightly my palm hadstarted to bleed. The spirits won't shut-up either. They're an ecstatic whisper in my ear. Over their constant chatter Inotice gentle footsteps behind me. I turn, ready to crush the assassin beneath my mace, but I freeze. Damn. Never freeze.

The elf lifts her rifle and fires, the first bullet hitting my arm and forcing me to drop my hammer. Another shots rattles my chest. "Mab?" I grunt. But it can't be her. She can't be alive. She can't be shooting me.