Chapter 22
Redmorning started forward, only to encounter Loudwhisper's heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Not safe," the other Orc said. "Let Shel'yin."
Veren growled in frustration, but stood still. He glanced back at the druid. The Elf stared at the two bodies, pale eyes wide.
"Chieftain," Shel'yin said. Redmorning turned back to see him kneeling between the Elf and the man, holding up the medallion. It was slowly disappearing, evaporating into silver mist.
"Is she alive?" Redmorning asked.
Shel'yin laid a large hand over Glaive's throat. "Yes," he said after a moment. "She is very weak. We should take her inside."
"Can you carry her?"
"Yes," Shel'yin said grimly.
"Then go. Arinagh…"
The druid followed Shel'yin without a word.
Redmorning turned his attention to the man. And man he clearly was. Elves don't have ears like that. His skin was white, and his hair was white; it spread beneath his shoulders like snow on the ground. His face was angular, all sharp bones and narrow planes.
He still wore a cloak and mail, and one hand clutched the pommel of a plain and battered sword.
"Kev'ran," Redmorning said, since Loudwhisper had not moved his hand. "See if he's breathing, will you?"
"He's cold," she reported a moment later. "Whatever it was, it must not have - "
She twitched back involuntarily as the dead man moved his head.
A moment later he opened his eyes. They seemed ordinary enough.
"Rokhyel?" Redmorning said.
"Where is Glaive?"
The face might be strange. The voice was unmistakably Shadebreaker's.
"Inside," Redmorning said.
Rokhyel Shadebreaker sat up. He did not relinquish his grasp on the sword. "She is alive?"
"At the moment," Kev'ran said. "We are not sure what the medallion did to her."
Shadebreaker sighed. The movement of his chest was startling, and Redmorning realized the man had not been breathing. Veren watched as he used the sword to lever himself upright. Then he turned and went into the cave. He moved carefully, as if he were not used to walking on feet, but he did not seem to notice that he was barefoot in the snow.
"Right," Redmorning said, shaking his head. "I suppose we'd better get everyone organized."
---
The Orcs moved as quickly as tired feet and tired minds allowed, hurrying to make the cave habitable and defensible. A natural vent toward the back of the cave became a chimney shortly after Merd Quickdigger found it. The tame spiders made themselves comfortable close to the fire. Kerd, Lev and Shel'yin organized their troops into shifts for sleeping and watching. Veren Redmorning gave orders where orders were needed, and then he went to lie down. Loudwhisper took first watch. Kev'ran did not argue.
The warlocks had suffered the most effect from the evil mana of the revenant, and most of them slept through the afternoon. One or two manned the barricades, standing by the catapults set up in front of the cave mouth.
Glaive lay on an empty travois. She breathed shallowly under her layers of fur blankets. The druid Arinagh slept close to her feet, exhausted by his attempts to heal her.
Rokhyel Shadebreaker stood beside the litter all through the long afternoon. If his curses were silent, they were no less bitter for that.
I should have stopped her. I should have guessed.
He had taken his hand from the medallion, but it had been too late. At best, he had prevented the full transfer of life from one body to another. Else I would be fully alive now, and the Glaive of the Tattered Banner would be dead. True dead, beyond my ability to raise her.
"Lord Shadebreaker?"
Rokhyel turned. A peon stood there, holding out a pair of moccasins. "Chieftain said you was to have these. Said now you got toes, you ought to keep them warm. Uh. Much as you can."
"How very like Veren Redmorning," Shadebreaker said. "Thank you." The peon grunted and went off. Rokhyel put the shoes on and returned to his vigil.
He was still Undead. The Shadebreaker was not sorry for that. I am clothed, no longer a soul tethered to naked bone. I can breathe, if I wish to speak. And something moves in my veins, though my heart does not beat. It is more than I would dare to ask, he thought, staring toward the darkening cave mouth. Night was falling.
"Where you come from?" said Glaive weakly.
Shadebreaker turned instantly, kneeling beside the travois.
"Glaive?"
The Elf pushed herself up on one elbow, blinking. "Who are… Shadebreaker? That you?"
"Yes," he said. "You succeeded. Though if I had known what you planned to do…"
"I know," Glaive said. Her voice was weak, but she still sounded smug. "That why I didn't ask you."
"What were you thinking?" Rokhyel asked without rancor. "If I hadn't stopped it, you would be dead."
"Un huh," Glaive said. She lay back down, pulling the cover up over her shoulders. "Medallion said it only works if dead one is willing. And I know you."
"Don't ever do that again," Rokhyel Shadebreaker said.
Glaive snickered. "Not to worry. 'Sides, I like you this way. You eyes are green."
And with that, she rolled over and went to sleep, leaving a dumbfounded death knight on his knees beside the litter.