Chapter 27
Glaive squatted on top of a large rock, observing four satyrs with tolerant contempt. They stood around the base of her perch, all wielding scimitars and showing various degrees of predatory interest.
"We could skin her," one said. "That was fun last time."
"It made too much noise," said another. "Besides, she's not going to be that easy."
"Sure she is."
"No. I can tell. I was right about the other one, remember?"
"Yes, but you were wrong about the one before that."
"Someone's coming, I can hear it…"
The Shadebreaker surveyed the scene from the edge of the clearing.
"Glaive," he said. "What are you doing?"
The Undead stood between two trees, his sword up on one shoulder. The posture might be taken for a casual one, for someone who had not seen what Glaive had. Shadebreaker saw her smile, and knew she recognized it.
"They been following the caravan," she said in Orcish. "Present time, they arguing 'bout how they going to kill me."
"I see," he said.
"You with her?" a satyr asked, inspecting him narrowly.
"Yes," Shadebreaker said. "But it will make no difference."
"Hah. Night Elves are a lot of Aaaa - "
The shriek cut off abruptly, followed by three more which were very similar in tone. Glaive slid bonelessly down the side of the rock. She collected one glaive and two throwing knives from their various resting places.
"Get three or four at once, if blade wasn't broken," Glaive said. She leaned against the great stone as she cleaned the glaive on a satyr's fur. "Lucky get two now."
"Then why don't you get another one?" the Shadebreaker said.
"'Cause this one is mine," Glaive said.
Rokhyel came forward, glancing incuriously at the dead satyrs. "Did they say anything else?"
Glaive shook her head. She sat on the ground now, back to the rock.
"Then shall we rejoin the caravan, before we are left behind?"
"Go ahead," Glaive said, waving airily. "I catch up."
Rokhyel Shadebreaker lowered his sword and leaned on the hilt for a moment. He looked at her. She looked back without apparent discomfort, but her face was pale, making her scars harder to see.
"You can't get up," he said. "Can you."
"Sure I can," Glaive said. "In a minute."
"It's happened before," Shadebreaker said. "When?"
Glaive shrugged. "Once last night. Once this morning. Get real tired all of a sudden, but I wait a minute, it goes away."
Shadebreaker considered this.
"I told you afterwards that you shouldn't have done it," he said.
"Yep, and it still don't matter," Glaive said. "I get over it. Always do."
"Exactly how many previous incidents in your life have involved medallions designed to restore life to the Undead?"
Shadebreaker took a step forward and offered her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her easily to her feet. She seemed almost weightless.
"You hand is freezing," Glaive said. "Maybe ought to think about some gloves. Come on."
She walked past him. Her movement did not falter. Shadebreaker followed her. A moment later she said,
"Father was demon hunter. Pretty good at mana burn. He had it figured where if you got no mana, he burn you life instead."
"I have met few Elves," Shadebreaker said. "I have not known any who would use magic against a child."
"Probably not too many crazy as him," Glaive said. "Try to kill me two, three times, once he figure out I was different. Finally ran off. Got killed by demons pretty soon after that. Never knew who mother was, so I went looking for Sentinels."
They stepped between the trees and onto the trail. They were not far from the end of the caravan. Peons were barely visible inside the outer cordon of raiders and grunts. One or two carried the smallest of the spiders, keeping them warm.
Glaive fell into step among the guards. She glanced at a grunt beside her.
"Orcs changing color," she said casually.
Shadebreaker cocked his head. "Yes."
The grunt looked at her, startled, then at his own arm.
"Demons," he said. "Somebody ought to tell the…"
Glaive and Shadebreaker were already gone.
---
"You're right," Veren Redmorning said. He looked at his bodyguards in startled realization. "Our skin and our blood were the same color when we came from Draenor. It's easy not to notice, with it happening to everyone at once."
"I have not been with you all that time," Rokhyel Shadebreaker said. "But you do appear different than when I came to you. Your skin is becoming more gray than red."
"There is a difference even since we left the cave," Kev'ran said. "Shel'yin and I discussed it."
"That I did notice," Redmorning said. "Fewer glowing eyes. Which is a good thing, not an ill."
"Give it enough time, I be looking different too," Glaive said. "Got no truck with Elune now."
"With who?" Redmorning said.
"Moon goddess," Glaive said. "Never had much to do with her to start with. Definitely not now. Be surprised how much living around different mana makes different Elves."
Rokhyel Shadebreaker pushed his hood back from his head as he stared at the trees. The air around him began to hiss and waver as mana rose.
"I think we are about to be attacked," he said.
"Yeah," Glaive said. "Twenty-odd satyrs. Forgot to say."
"I can see how you would," Redmorning said, raising one eyebrow. "Shadebreaker, go join the rearguard. Tell Lev," he said. "Glaive, get up to the front, will you?"
The Elf and the Undead moved off in opposite directions: Glaive at a graceful sprint, Shadebreaker at a purposeful glide. The air seemed to grow denser as the word spread among the warlocks, and they began to draw up mana of their own.
The enemy swirled out of the trees at the hindmost end of the caravan before Rokhyel Shadebreaker ever reached it. Twenty satyrs fell upon a peon-drawn travois, fifteen grunts, and Nez the Small, who walked beside the loom.