"So you need to go pretty far up in order to make the two halves hold properly, and make sure you pull the whole length through, like this. Don't hold back with the fid, this rope is supposed to be strong enough to be a halyard so you will have to be firm."
Jaina was sitting with Clea and a ranger called Kitala Starshadow in a partly sheltered corner of the main deck with a heap of torn ropes in front of them and rolls of twine at her side. The rangers were, to her secret relief, paying attention to what Jaina was showing them and soon matching her movements deftly with callused but nimble fingers.
"Good! Now, put the cord like this and keep it pulled tight all the time as you wind it and tie the whipping knot."
When Kitala reached down to pick up more cord Jaina noticed that the left side of her hood was sewn shut instead of having the usual slit for the long elf ears. She averted her eyes, not wanting to stare, but Clea apparently noticed all the same.
"I can hardly speak and Kitala only has one ear. We make a fine pair, would you not say, Lady Proudmoore?" she whispered.
"One and a half." Kitala corrected her. It sounded like a long recurring routine between the two.
Seeing Jaina's momentary confusion Kitala turned her head and to Jaina's surprise pulled back her hood, which was something the dark rangers seemed to almost never do publicly. Kitala had unusually protruding ears, making her almost a little cat-like, and one had been cut about the middle and was as Kitala had stated, half an ear. The edge was slightly jagged and while it appeared to have healed properly a long time ago Jaina found the sight so pitying that she instinctively reached out to brush her knuckles against it, but Kitala shuddered at her touch and jerked her head away.
"Oh! I'm so sorry Kitala, did I hurt you? I wasn't thinking." Jaina apologized, utterly shame-faced at the thought of her pawing at someone else's ears like that without asking. What had gotten into her?
"No…not like that, just… It is a very…close thing to do. Elven ears are very sensitive." Kitala seemed slightly at loss for words.
"And my partner's more than most." Clea smirked.
Jaina wanted to sink through the deck.
"I, I do apologize, deeply…" Jaina stuttered, turning red as a beet.
"Your touch was not…unpleasant." Kitala whispered, but Jaina had been so struck by another revelation that she barely registered it. A pair. "My partner's more than most."
"You're not…Are you two…Kitala, are you and Clea…partners?" Tides, this couldn't be happening, had Jaina just barged in to stroke her ear in front of – Tides!
To Jaina's astonishment, Kitala started to laugh. A light, merry, bright chuckle completely unexpected from one of the dark rangers.
"Clea and I are ranging partners, Lady Proudmoore. We have been for decades. Every ranger is paired with another, we watch each others backs all the time, we scout together, eat together, make camp together. Two lone rangers will fail many times over where a trusting pair will prevail."
"But we are not - what do you humans call it - "engaged" to one another." Clea added, also amused. "So you need not worry about coming between an elf and her possessive mate, Lady Proudmoore."
Jaina breathed a sigh of relief inside. No eleven blood feuds would be looming it would seem, that was good, so now she only had to deal with having acted like a tactless moron. Though Kitala didn't exactly appear insulted, in fact she was still in fits of laughing.
"None the less, there are still quite a few misconceptions and myths about rangers and their partners and we have attracted our fair share of romantic recruits who have ended up sorely disappointed."
"Although not always." Clea smiled. "And on occasion, ranging partners have been known to hunt in packs…"
Jaina cleared her throat, thinking frantically about another subject that would not contribute to her imminent immolation from the inside.
"While we are on the subject of…rangers…some of you have rather, ah, grim surnames and some are more…" Jaina's question ran out as she realised that this line of inquiry was perhaps not the best way to appear more culturally sensitive.
"More what, Lady Proudmoore?" Kitala teased with a wide smile, clearly seeing Jainas distress and thriving on it. Along with her ears she had expressive large eyes and a broad mouth, and what Jaina supposed you called quite full lips, which all became very notable when set in the typically narrow elven face. Perfect features for the teasing of a poor archmage. Only Velonara matched her in natural talent.
Luckily Clea took pity and came to Jaina's rescue.
"Some Forsaken choose to discard their former family names, some to keep them and some to take new ones. It is a personal choice and everyone has his or her own reasons for it. So you will find both grim Deathstriders and poetic Starshadows among us." she added with almost a wink at Jaina.
Jaina's curiosity was gaining on her embarrassment and she wanted to ask a dozen more questions, but before she could proceed with her interrogation Clea and Kitala were called away, to be replaced by captain Bones who came by to have a look at the splices.
"Ye've all got some things t' work on but I've seen worse from firs' time tries. Nice work showin' the dark lasses the ropes so to say, Lady Proudmoore." he complimented as he sorted through the fruits of their labours. "Looks like ye 'ave a good hand with 'em." he grinned.
"I don't know about that." Jaina refuted, thinking that she had so far mostly managed to stumble through their conversation and make a fool of herself.
"Those rangers, they're a secretive bunch. Few o' us 'ave the opportunity to get close to 'em but everyone knows they're always out there for us. Always watching for danger, 'n always the first to strike." he mused thoughtfully. "An' they might look more whole 'an the rest o' us, but…tha's just on the outside."
Captain Bones sat down next to her.
"It's got to take some special kind o' bastard to do that sort of number on someone's soul…we've all heard their screams 'n…anyway. I don't know all 'bout the politics 'n circumstances around his journey but…seein' you care 'bout 'em like you have despite bein' supposed to be on the other side of things means a damn lot 'n I for one will drink to the day you first stepped onto my ship, Lady Proudmoore."
"I maintain that this is all a misunderstanding and we should rightfully be allies against the Scourge." Jaina said with conviction, partly to dodge thinking up an answer to the unexpected recognition from captain Bones, especially so in light of how Jaina had acted at first when they had met.
"An' deep down I think all of us knows that, even our Dark Lady. But give it time."
"You care about the dark rangers too." Jaina concluded rather than asked.
"Aye. They may be centuries my senior but I still see my Haley in half o' 'em…" he admitted, his voice hoarser than usual.
"Clea and Kitala told me how some Forsaken changed their names. Is Bonecarver a new name in that way?"
"Hah! It fits right in, doesn' it? No, it's these bloody Lordaeronian landlubbers who can' pronounce 'Scrimshander'! See, it used to be somethin' of a family business, scrimshawing, an' stuck to us as a name. But when I moved to sail the Lordaeron waters I tired of everyone goin' dumb as a post an' changed it to somethin' they'd understand. But ghostly enough it be, hah!"
"You're Kul Tiran?!"
"Aye, born and raised. Actually" he added with an unsettling grin "I remember seein' old admiral Proudmoore running around the docks looking for his wee daughter climbin' every box 'n crane while all the dockworkers 'n sailors laughed themselves half to death an' shouted at him to put ye in the crows nest or spare himself the trouble an' give ye a commission righ' away." Captain Bones chuckled. "I can still see him 'fore me, all red in 'is face with his hat blown off 'n huffin' 'n puffin' at you while you lectured him on every vessel in the harbour. An' he tried to seem stern but everyone could see him beamin' with pride at ye."
Jaina swallowed. And swallowed. And swallowed. And the lump in her throat would still only grow.
"It's been some time since an'one of us have been able to hear somethin' from the isles, with all the…" Captain Bones cleared his throat. "How's the old admiral doin' these days?"
"I led the survivors from Lordaeron across the sea to Kalimdor to fight the demons of the Burning Legion who controlled the Scourge." Jaina begun in a low and hollow voice. "We succeeded but at great cost. And we only succeeded because we made peace with the orcs and then with the night elves and stood together. We settled in Theramoore after that, to live in peace next to the orcs and trolls in Durotar. I wanted this to be something new, something better for everyone. I wanted us to build a city that could be open to all. And we needed each other, to trade and cooperate, and I think we still do. But then my father came with his fleet."
Jaina's breath hitched. She couldn't hold her tears back.
"He wouldn't listen to me. He wouldn't listen. He hunted the orcs like beasts – worse, like monsters! Everyone! Their old and their children too! I begged him to stop it!" Jaina sniffed. "His fleet had made Theramore its headquarters and effectively taken control over my city. In the end I choose to warn Thrall, the Hordes warchief, and to stand aside to let them attack Theramoore and kill my father in exchange for their promise to spare my people if they could."
Jaina was shaking now, clutching her knees as ragged sobs wracked her body.
"The orcs just wanted some fucking peace!" Jaina slammed her fist into the deck, where a flowery pattern of frost bloomed out. "Why couldn't he leave us all the hell alone! I was handling it! We could have built something instead." Jaina took a few ragged breaths to calm herself. "So there you have it. Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore was betrayed by his own daughter." she finished with corrosive bitterness.
Captain Bones said nothing for a while, neither condolences nor condemnation.
"It'd appear the good man who was the Lord Admiral died a long time ago then… It's a shame to hear what he turned into." he said quietly.
"The day we lost Derek. My eldest brother." Jaina croaked. "My father saw it happen, they said. He never laughed again after that."
"Tale as old as time, ain't it…" Captain Bones sighed. "In my humble opinion, ye're allowed to miss the dad ye had without agreein' with who he became. Seems plain obvious to me which admiral had the right idea of things…" he grunted and rose to let Jaina grieve alone. "If I was alive, it would've been my honour to sail under the flag of Theramoore, Lady Proudmoore."
Jaina reached inside her shirt and felt her fathers silvery anchor pendant – no, her pendant now – in her hand.
"You were wrong, and I will show you that. This time I will make it right." she whispered and curled up in her corner with her head against her knees, crying months worth of pent-up tears and longing for the father of her childhood.
A shadow moved on soundless feet behind her. It reached down, and then it was gone again without a trace, save for the dark ranger cloak that lay draped around Jaina's shoulders.
Becalmed. Sylvanas had quickly learned to hate the word. A painted ship upon a painted ocean was what they might as well be. Worse, even. At least a painting could be pleasant to look at and serve some form of purpose.
They had a week to Lordaeron if her mage and her captain were correct. A week. It felt like a year now, and every day, every hour, was one more for the Scourge or Scarlets to creep closer to the Undercity.
Sylvanas had been staring angrily at the unyielding sky for the better part of the morning. By midday she was pacing, and everyone in her crew gave her a wide berth. With every sail hanging limp the crew busied themselves with whatever maintenance they could and she had heard some sailors muttering about bad luck from one source or the other, not least the ship lacking a proper name. On another day it would have been comical how maritime superstitions transcended even such concrete experiences as actually dying and being raised again but Sylvanas was in no mood for nonsense this day.
"Rangers! One squad to the longboat with me, we're getting this barge home!"
She had to do something before she exploded, or Wailed.
The remaining longboat was quickly lowered and captain Bonecarver's crew fastened a mooring cable between the ship and its meagre boat. Three pairs of oars, to move a vessel weighing tonnes. Sylvanas grabbed one of the foremost oars and gave the order to row.
The ship would not move. The mooring cable stretched, only to contract and pull the longboat back in, or at least that was all that seemed to happen.
"Lay into it!" Sylvanas barked as the oars creaked, boding ill to anyone with the mind to listen to them. "Clea, Kitala, pull!"
The last two were standing, or rather leaning back now, at the aft and bracing their feet against the longboats hull while holding the cable. Sylvanas did not trust any part of the longboat to bear the full load without aid. Furiously, she doubled her own efforts as well…and was rewarded with the splintering crack of her oar breaking in two. The sorry thing reminded her in a sickening way of a broken arm, with bone pointing at the wrong angle.
Biting back a litany of curses and a Wail that was starting to boil deeper inside Sylvanas broke the oar completely and put the stumps down beside her.
"Vel', scoot. I'll take yours." Sylvanas growled between clenched teeth. She wanted nothing more than to get this miserable journey underway and be done with it. "Again!"
They lasted a dozen strokes this time, and maybe the ship had moved a handbreadth or so. If she squinted. It cost them another two oars, one breaking right after the other.
Sylvanas really wanted to scream now.
"Dark Lady." Velonara simply said next to her and forced Sylvanas to look up. "Hey."
Velonara did not deserve to be yelled at. Well, not this time anyway. Sylvanas closed her eyes and forced down her anger bit by bit.
"We'd better save those remaining oars in case we need to actually row the longboat itself somewhere, don't you think, Dark Lady?" Velonara was an irredeemable brat but she knew when to be serious.
"Fine." Sylvanas acquiesced. "Get me some damned planks then that won't break…" she muttered.
"Look, Areiel is waving at us. She's signing to come aboard." Kitala called.
They turned the puny longboat around and Sylvanas kept her hands off any oar this time. Being back on deck did nothing to improve her mood.
"What is it, Areiel?" she demanded.
"Lady Proudmoore has a suggestion that I believe you need to hear, Dark Lady."
Her mage was waiting on the quarterdeck together with captain Bonecarver and a couple of other sailors. Her sunny hair and slightly tanning skin under her clumsy clothes could not have contrasted more with how Sylvanas looked and felt.
"Lady Windrunner, we have noticed something important." Proudmoore begun, looking wary of her mood but continuing after Sylvanas waved at her to do so. "We have no wind but there is a current here, and we're drifting approximately south to southwest. It might be connected to the maelstrom, or a separate one, and it isn't very strong at all. However, with no wind whatsoever and only six oars…"
"Three, as it is." Sylvanas interjected tonelessly.
"Yes, well, I think there is a strong possibility we won't make any progress to speak of while rowing."
Sylvanas took an unneeded breath, making her body calm itself from the memory of deep breathing.
"Yes, the thought has crossed my mind as well, Lady Proudmoore." she said impatiently. "Would you happen to have a better idea?"
"Yes, I think I do." the mage answered eagerly. "My best area is frost magics but frost spells are essentially water spells, it's just water conjured and formed at a certain temperature."
"I will not allow you to summon water elementals to tow my ship if that was your idea." Sylvanas remarked, and briefly watched a spark of interest flash in the clear blue eyes.
"That would be a sight, but it wouldn't be very efficient I think. Summoning spells are pretty mana intensive and I wouldn't be able to maintain them long enough for it to be worthwhile. But I think I could create a smaller local current centred around the ship and pull us all along, if you would let me, Lady Windrunner."
"Meaning that I allow you to cast something quite powerful and do it over a prolonged period."
"Yes exactly, channelling rather than casting you might say."
"Out of the question."
"I would…like to help."
Was Proudmoore actually giving her doe eyes, just like Vereesa had used to? No, Sylvanas waved the thought away. She had just allowed herself to be momentarily distracted by those eyes, that was all.
Areiel tugged at her shoulder and nodded to their side. Sylvanas followed her, with Anya in tow.
"Dark Lady, I am inclined to let Lady Proudmoore try." Areiel said, dead serious to Sylvanas' surprise.
"Have you lost your wits? We would allow an enemy archmage to cast freely among us?"
"Yes - and please hear me out now. First, Lady Proudmoore is no fool and we have already established that holding her by force alone will be more than this flimsy vessel can take. If this situation persists, how long will it be until she is driven to enough desperation to try something on her own? Something that will surely end in confrontation and in disaster. Second, even if she remains calm, if our food runs out she will die and this whole journey will have been in vain."
"It already has!" Sylvanas snapped, her thoughts returning to the docks in Theramoore and their doomed attempt at negotiating.
Areiel shot a glance in Proudmoores direction and quirked an eyebrow at Sylvanas, who shied away from it.
"We both know you do not mean that." Areiel stated evenly. "As I see it there are three probable outcomes here. If our provisions run out our mage definitely dies. If she casts something forbidden and is shot she dies. If she casts and holds true she lives. What would you rather chance?
"Anya? Your opinion?"
"If Lady Proudmoore planned to escape or resist us, why would she wait until now to act?" Anya hesitated for a moment. "When we were ashore at the lake there was a moment when we had lost track of her. I take full responsibility for that. But Lady Proudmoore came back to us."
They were both right, however it galled Sylvanas. Yet again, she was simply running out of options.
"One entire squad around her with arrows nocked at all time. One ranger holding her arm at all time."
Areiel and Anya nodded.
"Nice to see you all here, I'm glad so many could make it. Although usually when someone claims to perform magic in front of an audience they have a little stage with curtains and such, but I suppose we will have to make do with the quarterdeck." Jaina joked nervously to the six drawn bows in front of her. She had wanted an opportunity to get to know the dark rangers after all and here they were, she reminded herself. Weapons threateningly raised in her honour and all. Except of course for Anya who stood by her side and held her forearm, but with Anya being Anya that was not necessarily reassuring.
"At your convenience, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas said dryly and gestured ahead as if inviting someone to enter a banquet hall.
Jaina had to take several deep breaths to focus. Not only did she of course wish to avoid having the rangers turn her into a fletched porcupine, she also found that she really wanted this to work. She didn't want to let them all down.
With a welcoming familiarity her mana coursed through her, ready to be formed and shaped at her will. Jaina closed her eyes and drank in the far too alluring sensation of her arcane magic singing inside – Tides, she was becoming as addicted to her magic as the Blood Elves. She felt the water beneath her, a still surface as seen from above but in truth a mosaic of currents, temperatures, depths and waves. Jaina had not been called the Daughter of the Sea for nothing.
At her mental command the water started to flow under and around the ship. There was a faint tug, and they were off.
"Helmsman!" Jaina cried out as the ship began to tilt too much from her course.
A quick apology followed as their helmsman corrected himself.
"Merry mother of tides…" captain Bonecarver muttered reverently.
Jaina opened her eyes to look into half a dozen red gazes in smooth, long-eared and all so handsome pale faces under dark hoods. And surely there was a little less tension among them.
The rest of the day passed all too slowly. Channelling a spell, simple or not, for hours drained every drop of Jaina's mana and energy. Nor could she lay back – figuratively speaking – and let the magic channel by routine for the sea they traversed shifted subtly and with it the direction in which Jaina had to aim their current if she wanted a maximum return of her efforts. Had it not been for Areiel's and Anya's reminders to take some breaks for eating and resting Jaina would most likely have rooted herself behind the helm.
Jaina held out until sunset by which time she was swaying slightly where she stood, sea legs notwithstanding. She noted absent-mindedly that the six rangers had assumed a kneeling position sometime during the day and that Anya's cool hand had slid down from her forearm into Jaina's own. It felt…right. Like their hands fitted together.
Sylvanas naturally had to choose that very moment to repeat the rangers main prank of sneaking up on her.
"Thank you, Lady Proudmoore." she whispered right into Jaina's ear, causing Jaina to jolt and make the ship careen wildly to port. "Gently now…" Sylvanas purred.
As if that was a secret cue, a deluge of comments began to rain on her from her ranger guard detail.
"You were so good with us today, Lady Proudmoore."
"So gentle and steady."
"You blew us so well ahead."
Jaina protested half-heartedly that she had not blown the ship forward but more like waved or flooded it ahead, or whatever you called it when crafting your own private current.
"But of course" Velonara agreed with the smooth sugary voice that Jaina had learned spelled immediate danger. "Flooded is the word. Don't you currently feel positively flooded, sisters?"
"I'm sure she will do an equally good job tomorrow, don't you think so Lady Proudmoore?" Anya asked just as sweetly.
Jaina yawned something about doing her best in response. Tides, she just wanted to go to bed right now.
"Did you hear, sisters? Lady Proudmoore has promised to give us an equally good job tomorrow to blow us until we're just as flooded as today."
Jainas poor head tried and failed miserably to keep track of every illogical jump and double meaning Anya and Velonara was hurling at her. Couldn't she just be allowed to deal with that in the morning instead?
"That's enough. Behave." Sylvanas growled at the rangers. She offered Jaina her arm and Jaina gratefully took it, almost too tired to spare a thought for the fact that she was actually walking arm in arm with Sylvanas. The banshee queen escorted Jaina down the stairs and around her corridors and into their cabin.
"Save some of your strength tomorrow evening and you may use it to conjure water or food for yourself if you so wish, Lady Proudmoore." Sylvanas said as Jaina was crawling into her hammock.
Jaina nodded, and was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.
The wind had not returned the next day, or the next.
Jaina took her station early in the mornings and held it until she felt she was leaning on Anya for support as much as Anya was guarding her from teleporting. That tended to be the signal for lunch, and the short rest that Anya and Areiel kept insisting on. Jaina was slowly beginning to get more comfortable in the ranger captains presence. They had not shared many words, honestly, but there was a solid directness about Areiel that inspired confidence. Jaina felt somehow sure that she was not the kind of person who would waste time on being spiteful when decency would get the job done. Areiel did keep Jaina's guards alert – it had been secretly relieving to learn that Forsaken could in fact become just as bored and lazy as the living – but tended to soften the impact of her admonishment with jokes or ironic comments about what their terrifying and apparently quite vicious archmage might do to them if they didn't keep their guard up. Jaina had seldom heard such a gruesome list of how her magic could apparently be misused and what repugnant changes to their physiology the dark rangers were apparently risking simply by being in Jaina's vicinity, if she understood the ranger captain correct.
Jaina actually appreciated Areiel's crude sense of humour a lot when she had to keep almost all her attention on the water and the hull it was flowing around. It was certainly less tiring than keeping track of all the dark rangers' ridiculously far-fetched innuendos and twisting of just about every word she said. After a while she was getting caught up in it and beginning to pass the time making up more home-brewed troll curses, which the rangers immediately and gleefully adopted.
"Tauren bawls and goblin whistles…Clea's bow will now grow thistles!"
"Hoaxes and hexes, spite and ire…Lyana shall be breathing fire!"
"I summon a banshee, floating and fickle…beware its ghostly hand that tickle!"
Upon uttering that particular one Jaina felt something poke at her side and almost folded over, for Jaina was, unfortunately, quite ticklish. Anya held her up by the hand while Jaina corrected the momentary wobble in her arcane current.
"It must have been the ghostly banshee." Anya said with a blank expression. "Clearly this ship is haunted."
Jaina cast her a stern glare. Or at least she tried to. She found it awfully hard to even pretend being cross with Anya and even harder not to melt a little before the tiny trace of a smile lurking in the corner of that delicate mouth. That particular adjective came more and more to Jaina's mind when she thought of Anya. The ranger was not uncommonly short or small for an elf, if anything Jaina would guess that Anya was of middle height, but it was something with all her features and, well, everything about her really that Jaina just wanted to wrap her arms around and hold close.
She wondered if it was the way Anya had cried her name when she had disappeared. It was probably foolish, but it felt important that she had spontaneously used Jaina's first name, and the way she had cried it made Jaina feel a little bit guilty inside. Anya had sounded so distressed, afraid even. But why, exactly? That question tugged at Jaina's mind. Was it fear of the Forsaken's whole idea of keeping Jaina as their prisoner falling apart? That was possible of course, and it fit the ranger being Sylvanas' trusted lieutenant, but it didn't quite feel like Anya somehow. Had she been afraid of failing her assignment, and letting Sylvanas down on a more personal level? That seemed more like the Anya Eversong picture Jaina was painting. Or, maybe, had it been the thought of Jaina leaving them in itself that had terrified the elf?
Jaina knew that was improbable, and a little presumptuous of her to think that. But not so improbable that it stopped her from squeezing Anya's hand a little harder.
The rest of the day went by in what passed for the usual manner for an archmage driving forward a frigate crewed by undead. But when Jaina had to call it off the sun was still far too high for her taste. She slammed her fist at the reeling that she had gone to lean over, panting and slumping forward and disappointed in herself. She was an archmage, Tides damn it, not a fumbling second year student who lost her focus past two o'clock in the afternoon!
The rangers kept a respectful distance and for once they were quiet, Jaina noticed. But Sylvanas approached to stand next to her, straight as a ramrod with her hand resting lightly on the reeling and undeterred by Jaina's foul mood.
"I once again owe you my thanks for single-handedly propelling my ship forward, Lady Proudmoore, a feat of magic unheard of. Yet I find you displeased with yourself."
Keep talking, Jaina thought. Sylvanas' tone was neutral and even, but she still found herself relaxing into the wonderfully compelling voice.
"I guess I'm just disappointed in myself. I'm sure you would feel the same if you found yourself suddenly too tired to draw you bow, Lady Windrunner.
Sylvanas was quiet for a time and seemed deep in thought.
"Let us take a seat, Lady Proudmoore, and please conjure some refreshments for yourself."
Jaina turned around and sat down against the reeling, with Sylvanas gracefully stretching her legs and leaning back next to her.
"Can I get you something, Lady Windrunner?" Jaina asked politely.
"No, thank you, Lady Proudmoore. I do not need to eat."
"But can you?" Jaina asked curiously and conjured a couple of mana buns with a simple spell.
"There are ways I can…sustain myself and regain my health and on occasion my energy."
"Like the ghouls?"
"Essentially yes, though with somewhat refined table manners." Sylvanas smirked. "But I do not enjoy food like the living do."
"Can no Forsaken do that?"
"It is different for everyone." Sylvanas pondered. "I can taste and smell some things. Blood. Salt. Extremely sharp and repugnant smells. Little more."
"Well, how fortunate that you aren't completely tasteless at least, Lady Windrunner." Jaina smiled, already feeling better from her mana bun and becoming intrigued by the subject.
"I may find myself developing a taste for you, my little mage…" Sylvanas husked in such a smouldering whisper that Jaina swallowed and almost dropped her remaining mana bun. The banshee queen flashed her a broad smile, where her tongue just happened to caress the tip of one of the pointy fang-like teeth at the corner of her upper jaw. "Eat up, while I fetch something that may help you."
Sylvanas should rightfully be tense and nervous but found herself in inexplicably good spirits instead as she hurried down the ladders to one of several storage areas that remained unused by a crew that did not require food or water. Or almost did not, she corrected herself, which brought her to the object of her visit that awaited at its place underneath a spare sheet of sailcloth.
Her mage's staff. Sylvanas felt a small stream of…something…when she grasped it. For a moment she fantasized that the staff felt the scent of Proudmoore on her, as if it had been a horse or a dragonhawk.
The look on Proudmoore's face had been so delightful that for a moment Sylvanas debated whether to shelf – quite literally – this idea for now and go back to fluster her mage some more. But they had to reach Lordaeron as soon as they could and Proudmoore was right in that she had been tiring sooner than yesterday.
Back on the quarterdeck the sight of Sylvanas carrying her mage staff produced a look of near childish joy on her mage.
"You have it! How…"
"My rangers retrieved it from the docks as you were brought onboard." Sylvanas said with the strictest tone she could muster at the moment. It was harder than it should be with Proudmoore looking at the staff like Vereesa had looked at her first bow. "In light of the current circumstances I will return your staff to you in exchange for your word that you relinquish it again when the day is done and do not use it against us in any way."
"I promise!" She was nearly bouncing on her toes.
Sylvanas held out her staff and Proudmoore examined it closely and then clutched it tenderly to her cheek.
"I can see you two are quite close." Sylvanas remarked dryly.
The mage stuffed the last third of her mana bun in her mouth and rose eagerly.
"On deck, ye scabrous sea-dogs!" she yelled at the seven rangers who had been resting on one knee close to the wheel. She sounded quite like captain Bonecarver and Sylvanas assumed it had to be Kul Tiran accent. The accent was, she decided, an acquired taste.
Proudmoore held her staff in her left hand and Sylvanas took up position on her right, arm in arm. This was her decision and consequently her responsibility to be close by if things went badly. She noticed that her mage felt hot, and her warmth was seeping into Sylvanas' arm. It was…a strangely pleasant sensation.
Proudmoore was looking up at her, questioningly. Sylvanas smiled inwardly at the act of deference in the middle of magely eagerness and inclined her head.
The next moment Proudmoore was positively glowing. Her eyes shone with arcane energy and the crystal on her staff even more so. In the distance Sylvanas could hear a strange rushing sound, until she realised it was the water flowing under them, only much more powerful than before.
"Captain! What speed did we make earlier?" Proudmoore's voice rang out as if her magic amplified it. Gone were all traces of the awkward, blushing, girlish woman who had woken up and fallen asleep in Sylvanas' hammock and giggled between the arms of her rangers. The woman now before her was an archmage to the bone.
"Five, maybe six knots I'd say."
"Six knots? Get your log out, captain Bones!" Proudmoore tightened her grasp around her staff and Sylvanas could feel the ship tug, and pick up speed.
"You heard the lady." Sylvanas smirked at her captain.
One of the sailors hurried up to them with the log and associated sandglass.
"In ye go…" captain Bones muttered as the chip was thrown into the water. "Four, five, six… Ten! Ten knots, Lady Proudmoore! Ye bloody marvel of an admiral!"
A choir of cheers and whistles greeted the news and Sylvanas looked down to see the main deck filling with every remaining member of the crew, sailor and ranger alike looking up at her and her mage. And her rangers looked happier than she ever remembered seeing them since before they became dark rangers. Areiel was eyeing her meaningfully with a lopsided smirk and Anya with eyes wide with pride. Sylvanas knew she could likely expect an earful later about how good she had been to show such trust in her mage and whatever more.
But Belore, this felt right. Sylvanas straightened her back. Kel'Thuzad and all the rest of Arthas' senile old liches could crawl back into whatever stinking crypts they had sprung from. They had nothing on Proudmoore, she thought with contempt.
Had she even contemplated fighting this? The ship would be turned to splinters before the count of ten. And her rangers…Sylvanas would be lucky to have half of them left if it came to that. She almost shuddered at the thought.
But she hadn't had to fight her mage. On the contrary, Sylvanas had to admit to herself that Proudmoore had proven herself trustworthy in every way, and more. And the mage was good to her rangers. She made Clea talk and Anya smile. She even put up with Velonara.
"Rangers!" Sylvanas called out to the six posted with half drawn bows next to Proudmoore. "At ease!" she smiled at them. At that Proudmoore shifted slightly so their arms brushed against each other. Had it been intentional? She glanced at her discreetly.
To Sylvanas' surprise her mage was humming something.
"Ahoy, ahoy, sweet Daughter of the Sea
Ahoy this child of mine
The Admirals girl, his whole entire world,
For as long as stars do shine"
"What song is that?" Sylvanas asked, curious.
"My father used to sing it to me when I was little."
"Daughter of the Sea?"
"A nickname."
"One well-earned it would seem."
Sylvanas was quiet for a moment.
"My sister used to…never mind. What I mean is…you have a pleasant singing voice, Lady Proudmoore."
"Why, thanks Lady Windrunner."
"Above average. For a human."
Proudmoore snorted at that.
"It is nice, isn't it?" The whisper into her right ear was barely audible. Somehow Anya had managed to sneak up on her now. Sylvanas should be angry at herself, or frustrated at least, but for now she couldn't bring herself to care. Because Anya was without peers at stealth and Anya was her best.
"What is nice?" Sylvanas whispered back from the corner of her mouth.
"Trusting Lady Proudmoore. It feels nice, doesn't it?" Anya breathed into her ear as she ran her knuckles slowly along Sylvanas' arm.
Sylvanas looked out across Forsaken sailors and rangers alike, seeing awe, approval and maybe even tiny glimmers of hope. Her mage was at her one side and her ranger at the other.
It did feel nice.