A/N - Don't get used to this 3 chapters a week business lol Christmas will soon put a stop to the rabid updates.

Chapter 13

The knock on the door sounded just as Alyna tugged down her top over her breasts. "Come," she permitted as she walked over to the small table where most of her armour had landed. She was on board the flagship of the Forsaken navy, The Windrunner, and had been for several days. She was currently in Sylvanas' quarters, which doubled as her office.

The door creaked on its iron hinges as it swung open, the salt-laden air having its say. Kyala's hooded form slid around the door before she closed it, and leant back onto it.

"Are you okay?"

Alyna blinked as she reached for her vambraces. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just saw Lady Sylvanas leave, and she was not in a good moo…" She had been looking around the room as she spoke, and had seen the unmade cotbed in the corner. "…what did you do?"

Alyna started strapping on her pauldrons. "I did nothing. Putress, however, is about to get an earful."

Kyala shook her head in amazement. She gestured at the cotbed. "I don't call that nothing. I've never seen it unmade before. Did … you … and her …?"

The former blood princess looked up at her near-friend, one boot on, and the other in her hand. "Did you not wonder how I was dealing with my 'minor' urges?"

Kyala frowned. "Well, yes, but … I don't know what I thought you were doing about it. I just figured you were handling it, so that was fine. But, Alyna, the Dark Lady? She just had you tortured!" She was obviously distressed.

Both boots on, Alyna leant back against the table, regarding the woman she knew spied for the queen. "I am aware of that," she replied dryly.

"And you're … okay … physically …?"

Alyna frowned at her, trying to figure out what she was getting at. "There are no lingering effects from the torture, no." Kyala looked relieved, if confused. Alyna was slightly amused. "I realise you all fear those cells, but a few hours in them really is nothing compared to what the Lich King is capable of. It was … very unpleasant … but slightly laughable as torture." She didn't intend it to sound like a humble brag, but it was the simple truth. She was used to far, far worse. She did feel her shoulders slump slightly as she added, "It hurts more that she sent me there with the intention in the first place."

The ranger was clearly speechless. After some mute, frantic gestures from Kyala that showed her complete bafflement, Alyna sighed, and continued. "I have a problem, and she is helping me. Though, I should point out, that was only the second time, and only out of necessity. Do I trust her? Not exactly." She paused. "I want to. But, as I told her, trust is earned. I suppose you could say we are working on that part." She chuckled before adding, "You can close your mouth now."

Kyala's hanging jaw snapped shut. "So … you're not …?"

"Together? A couple?" She heard herself laugh. "No. And I would appreciate complete sentences. You're testing my non-existent mindreading skills."

The ranger's head tilted in confusion before she shook it. "I admit, she has been different of late. I thought she was going to rip my head off, or put me in a cell beside Talnia. But, here I am. Limbs and head intact. I think she even almost thanked me, but that might have been the light."

Alyna looked down at the floor for a moment before she raised her black gaze to Kyala. "About that … I have not had the chance to say thank you for the part you played in my 'rescue'. So, thank you."

Kyala waved away the gratitude. "I did my duty, Alyna. For all our sakes, not just for you."

Somehow, Alyna quashed her urge to roll her eyes at the loyal response. "I do recall you pointing out my lack of gratitude not too long ago. The least you could do is accept it when I offer it."

The wide-eyed ranger stared at Alyna before letting out a short, barked laugh. "Fair enough." Kyala strode over to the large Northrend map table that Alyna had been diligently working on for most of the trip. She picked up a small piece that was representative of a Forsaken army group as she asked, "So, what's this about Putress?"

Alyna had followed, and plucked the small piece from Kyala's fingers to replant it on her carefully managed table. Grand Apothecary Putress was one of the chief apothecaries of the Forsaken's Royal Apothecary Society. He was currently conducting experiments in the ship's hold. Kyala pouted as she had her toy confiscated. Alyna responded, "He killed my dinner."

Kyala tilted her head. "That … sounds … unfortunate."

The former princess shrugged. "He was expressly told not to use what was marked for me for his experiments. Either he disregarded the order, or he's had an accident."

"With the new plague?"

"I would presume so."

Kyala folded her arms, her features relaxing into a thoughtful expression. "I've heard it's very potent."

Alyna guided the other woman away from her meticulously prepared map, lest she start playing with the pieces again. "It is. Which is why Lady Sylvanas wishes to know how it works."

When she and Sylvanas had finished their copulation almost a week ago, Alyna had been convinced to use a sleep stick. When she had awoken, Sylvanas was gone. She had found her at the centre of a maelstrom of activity. Mysterious crates of grain had begun appearing all around Azeroth, in a pattern that was eerily similar to how the plague of undeath started in Lordaeron seven years ago, which had also started with contaminated grain. Predictably enough, people had begun to get sick, and they had turned into mindless undead once they died. The survival rate was zero, and the conversion rate was rapid, and total.

Sylvanas had been simultaneously impressed, and concerned. Impressed because of the potency of it as she had been searching for a way to boost her own recruitment process for many years, with only small amounts of success. Concerned, because none of her apothecaries had created the plague. She had no doubt this was the Lich King at work. He had begun his attack on the civilisations of Azeroth, and they were not prepared for this kind of warfare. They had set sail for Orgrimmar immediately, on the other side of the Great Sea.

Kyala looked Alyna up and down. "We're due to reach Durotar tomorrow. You'll be fine until then?"

She nodded. "It was more a convenience than anything. Lady Sylvanas has been very attentive to my dietary needs."

"That's a fancy way to say she is fussing over you."

Alyna sighed. "I believe she is trying to make up for past mistakes."

Kyala looked, and sounded, sceptical. "Apologise for isolation and torture with food. And sex."

She narrowed her black eyes at the ranger. "When did you become such a critic of your beloved Queen?"

"Do not confuse my loyalty for blindness, or ignorance, Alyna." Red eyes met her own. "There are things I do not always approve of, but they are her choices to make and they usually make some kind of sense. I follow the chain of command, as I always have. What she was doing to you though? That did not make sense." Kyala relaxed slightly. "I am relieved things appear to be working out for the better. Do you know what company you'll be joining?"

Alyna shook her head. "Not yet. I doubt I will be joining one until she is done learning what she can from me about Northrend." Not to mention she still had certain urges to take care of.

Kyala's elven ears drooped slightly. "That sounds like it could take a while. I'm … going to miss you when I go back to my company."

Alyna smiled slightly. "Perhaps I can join yours? If I get a choice, I will certainly ask."

A pair of elven ears immediately perked up again. "That would be fun."

She couldn't help but agree.

Sylvanas stood on the prow of her ship as it approached the shores of Kalimdor. Her cloak snapped around her in the breeze, though her hood remained perfectly in place on her head even as her hair rebelled. To anyone looking closely enough, she had a small smile on her fine features.

And what wasn't there to smile about?

The Lich King had finally made a move she felt the warchief could no longer ignore. Putress had announced he was close to finding out the secrets of the new plague, so she would soon have a precious resource at her disposal. Even his accident yesterday had not dampened her mood, though she had made her disappointment at his recklessness clear. And, thanks to Alyna, her plans for Northrend had advanced at a rate that almost made her feel giddy.

Her smile widened a little further. She wouldn't be admitting it to anyone any time soon, but she had enjoyed the couple of trysts with her former fiancée. She had not really known what to expect when she pulled Alyna back from walking away from her last week. She just knew if anyone was going to help her with such an intimate thing, it had to be her. Even if it felt like a chore, she did not want anyone else to know her Alyna as she did.

It had definitely not felt like a chore. She had even been pleasantly surprised when Alyna had reciprocated. She now felt physically lighter, and more fluid in her movement. Which was nonsense, but she enjoyed the sensation of her body feeling more powerful regardless, even if it was just her imagination.

Her ears picked up the groan of aged wood just as the rising sun cast the shadow of the new arrival into her vision. She knew it was Alyna, and she decided she felt comfortable enough to not turn around.

"The cartographer has completed the smaller map you requested, my Lady."

She nodded. "Good. Just in time." She gestured to the horizon where dusky red cliffs and hills had come into view. "We will arrive soon." She felt more than saw Alyna taking in the view. She knew Alyna had never been to Kalimdor before, let alone the home of the orcs in Durotar. The large city of Orgrimmar had sprung up from literally nothing to become the centre of the Horde in just a few short years.

When she had first seen the city a few years ago, even the queen had been impressed. Durotar was a desert, with almost no natural resources, and certainly none that could be used in construction. Instead, the orcs had turned to the forest of Ashenvale for their building materials, greatly angering the local kaldorei, or night elves, who called the forest home. They had been at war ever since.

"It looks barren," observed Alyna.

"It is. As predictably simple as the orcs can be, they are highly adept at surviving in hostile areas." She turned her head to regard Alyna thoughtfully. "Never forget that."

Alyna nodded her understanding. She then noted, "It will be interesting to see how they fare in Northrend. Hostile is very much a word I would use for it."

"Indeed. They will certainly be … useful." Sylvanas narrowed her eyes as she tried to get a good look at her latest ranger, the sun slightly blinding her. "I will secure a meal for you once we arrive, to make up for what was lost."

Alyna just nodded, much to the queen's relief. They had almost argued earlier about the woman's lack of desire to feed as often as she should. A part of her understood. Arthas had done this to her, and Alyna was trying to rebel at what she was because of it. Sylvanas had no need to eat, and it was a freedom she had not fully appreciated until recently. Alyna would always hunger in a manner they never had even when alive, and she would always be fighting it. Sylvanas noted the simple reality, in itself, was a form of constant torture for the woman.

Regardless, she needed Alyna to be fighting fit at all times, and keeping herself fuelled was part of their new bargain. She did have a couple of rangers who had dabbled in magic outside of her dark ranger teachings, but she was fully aware that Alyna was a powerful sorceress, as well as a promising ranger. She still didn't know how powerful, but she was going to get a full demonstration once they were home. She had already made plans to have some of her Forsaken find suitable humans for Alyna to feed on once they were home on a regular basis. She was not going to have Alyna waste time hunting when that could be done for her. She just needed to decide whether she was going to unleash Alyna on the worgen, or on the Scourge beyond the Bulwark. She was greatly looking forward to seeing what her new bow could do.

Sylvanas had turned to watch their approach, with Alyna at her side. She could hear their cloaks fluttering, and she found she enjoyed the silent companionship. Too many felt the need to talk when she would rather they didn't, and it inevitably led to her snapping at them. Alyna knew better. Alyna was still in tune with her, despite the passage of time. Alyna was here, and she would not have it any other way.

She allowed another small smile.

The wood of the ship creaked as the bow rose and fell with each wave. Unlike the living races, the Forsaken did not build ships conventionally. Instead, they scoured the seabed and raised the fallen wrecks to make them seaworthy again. It was somehow fitting. She currently had several teams doing just that along the coast of old Lordaeron as part of her war preparations. While slightly hampered by the worgen, she had faith that her new grand executor could handle the situation.

Activity on the deck began to pick up as they rapidly approached the dock. She could see the zeppelin towers in the distance just outside of Orgrimmar. One of the large, floating vehicles was currently docked to a tower, no doubt waiting for fee-paying passengers with more money than sense who had no stomach for the high seas. Given the choice, Sylvanas would always choose the peril of the sea over handing her safety over to a half-crazy goblin on a zeppelin, hundreds of feet up in the sky.

Skeletal and booted feet alike clattered around the deck as orders were shouted. The sailors she had with her were the best she had, and they worked diligently like the drilled crew they were. The ship slowed as the sails were pulled down. Oars were pushed out of the side of the flagship to bring the groaning vessel alongside the dock in a more controlled fashion. Muscled, green figures on the dock scurried around as ropes were thrown down to them.

She narrowed her eyes. Most of the figures were running around. Three remained rooted to where they stood. She realised she had a welcoming party. That did not bode well. She had never been met at the dock before as normal protocol had her escort wait for her at the gates to the city.

She glanced back at Alyna, her tone brusque. "Go get Putress and meet me at the gangway. Have the horses prepared."

Alyna was astute, as always. "Something wrong, my Lady?"

Sylvanas kept her eyes on the three proud orcs as the docking procedure was being finalised. "Your meal may have to wait."

She did not give her ranger the answer she had wanted, but Sylvanas was not sure herself. She was not going to be caught on the backfoot though. Alyna sensed she had been dismissed, and had left to obey her orders. Not about to tip her hand, Sylvanas casually stepped down from the prow and made her way to where the gangway would be pushed out.

Alyna gazed fiercely over the side of the gladiatorial area. The circular pit below was made from hard-packed sand. She could see pinkish stains in some areas where they had tried to brush out the blood. She understood the need for a warrior to test their skills, but this kind of blood sport was pointless to her. All it did was maim and kill those who were weaker on the day, but still valuable. All in the name of orcish 'honour'. She found it distasteful.

Behind her, a debate raged between three orcs, her queen, and the grand apothecary. They had disembarked and were immediately escorted through the rough city to this 'Ring of Valor', where a long table had been set up with refreshments.

The quietest of the orcs was apparently one of their elders, High Overlord Varok Saurfang. He was battle-scarred and aged to look at, but his olive-skinned body was still lean and strong. When he spoke, the warchief listened. Warchief Thrall was a curious lime-green specimen. Sylvanas had told her he was raised in a human concentration camp after the Second War, and had led his people to freedom when they rebelled. She recalled his name being mentioned years ago in despatches, but the elves had not got involved. While clearly an orc, his demeanour certainly displayed human traits.

The third orc was even more curious. He was massive, even for their kind. He also had brown skin. Putress had quietly informed her that all orcs had originally been brown, before fel magic had corrupted them once they had tethered themselves to the Legion. Garrosh Hellscream was from their original home world, now called Outland, and had allied himself with the Horde.

He was also young, ill-tempered, and brash.

Alyna had turned her back to the scene because he was currently addressing her queen in such a manner that made her blood boil. If she made any eye-contact at this point she would create a diplomatic incident. She clenched her fist tightly, the leather cracking with a satisfying sound.

"How do we know they are telling the truth, Warchief?" came the shouted question. "The plague does not affect them! This could be a ploy to get us to commit to a trap!"

"It is a plague of undeath," came the weary voice of the grand apothecary. "Its aim is to create undead. As we are already undead, we cannot be made into what we already are."

It would have been amusing if it wasn't the third time he had had to explain it to the hot-blooded orc.

"Enough, Garrosh," she heard Thrall admonish. "I am convinced Lady Sylvanas and the Forsaken have had no hand in this plague. Even they would not be so desperate as to do such a thing to force us to Northrend."

Alyna wasn't so sure. She kept looking down into the arena.

"The Cult of the Damned were responsible for distributing the original plague," she heard herself say. "The lich, Kel'Thuzad, still leads them. They will be doing the same now."

"Bah!" spat Garrosh. "She speaks like she knows them. We have no idea where the grain shipments have been coming from. We are only now able to detect the corrupted crates from the pure."

At this, Alyna turned slowly. She fixed her black eyes onto the young orc, and gave him what she hoped was a disturbing smile. "But I do know them. Very, very well."

Brown eyes widened briefly, before he scrunched his face into a snarl. "You sound like a traitor."

Thrall gave Sylvanas a curious look. "This is the one you mentioned?"

The banshee queen gave him a small nod. "Yes, Warchief. Alyna has already been invaluable, and I have no doubt her experience will be what wins us this war." To prove the point, Sylvanas presented the smaller version of the map Alyna had worked hard on over the past week with her cartographer. She placed it down on the table next to the best map the Horde had available of the frozen northern continent. The difference was so stark they might well have been two different places.

Saurfang leaned closer for a look, before he straightened and nodded his approval at Alyna. She gave him a brief nod in return. The old orc was proving interesting.

"That is just the start of what she can tell us, Warchief." Sylvanas allowed pride to tinge her words. Alyna wondered if it was genuine, or a clever effect.

Garrosh appeared to have seen enough. "Thrall … Warchief … your armies await your command. Let me lead them to Northrend to remove this undead menace!"

For once, Sylvanas agreed with him. "Yes, Thrall. The time has come to kill Arthas. You can take my grand apothecary with you. His knowledge will be invaluable against whatever the Scourge will throw at you."

While Putress did try to sound enthusiastic at working alongside the orcs, his effort fell slightly short of sounding genuine to Alyna's ears. "It would be an honour, Dark Lady."

Thrall looked warily at his chief advisor. "What say you, Saurfang?"

The old orc stared at the map. "Warchief, it is clear that Northrend represents the gravest threat to our people, and that we must act against it. But this foe is unlike any other. Caution must be advised."

Thrall spoke slowly, trying to air his thoughts. "My soul burns for revenge, but the elements tell me to think clearly. The Lich King is a ruthless opponent … one who must be handled carefully." He looked down at the map. "We will send scouts to assess the situation. I will also convene with the Lady Proudmoore and see what plans the Alliance has."

Alyna wanted to groan. She had no idea who this Proudmoore was, and really didn't care. She decided to intervene.

"With respect, Warchief. I can tell you what your scouts will find. He is ready for us. He has been ready for quite some time."

The soft-spoken Warchief gave her a surprisingly steely gaze. "I have made my decision."

Garrosh threw his arms up dramatically. "Gragh! I cannot take this!" Alyna couldn't blame him. "While you talk and deliberate, our enemies grow stronger! Were it my choice, I would have put all our available forces onto that frozen rock and conquered it for the Horde!"

Letting his temper show, Thrall turned on Garrosh. "If this is a trap, it is one I will not blindly walk into! Do not make the same mistakes as your father, Garrosh!"

Garrosh snapped his head around. Alyna could see veins pulsing in his neck. He stabbed a large finger at Thrall. "After all that he did for YOU and YOUR people? MAK'GORA!"

Thrall looked surprised at the orcish word. So was Alyna. She had no idea what it meant, but her eyes widened slightly when the warchief angrily snarled his reply.

"You challenge me, boy? I don't have time for this …"

Garrosh spat on the floor. "So, you refuse? Is the son of Durotan a coward?"

Thrall pointed at the arena she had been looking into earlier. "Inside!"

Garrosh grabbed at the two hand axes he'd had across his back, while Thrall collected a large, intricate hammer from where he had propped it up against the table. They both descended a stairway that presumably led down to the arena.

Sylvanas angrily turned on Saurfang. Before she got a word out, the elder orc held his hand up. "I cannot stop it, Banshee Queen. Thrall has been challenged; honour demands he see this through if you want your army."

She clearly wanted to reply. Her eyes flashed in fury before she turned to move to stand next to Alyna as they both looked into the arena. The combatants were squaring off, weapons raised.

They could hear Thrall say, "Let's finish this quickly."

The reply was almost screamed. "Your duties as a warchief can wait! For now … we fight!"

Garrosh charged at his leader. Thrall raised his hammer to parry, and only just managed to do so in time. The three undead and Saurfang watched as they traded blows.

"Who is Garrosh's father?" Alyna asked quietly.

She had expected Sylvanas to answer but, to her surprise, it was Saurfang's deep voice that replied. "He was the best of us, and the worst of us. Chieftain of the Warsong clan, it was he who first drank the demonic blood that bound us to the Legion. But, in his finest hour, it was he who freed us from the blood-curse. It was an act that demanded his life be sacrificed in the process."

Alyna nodded her understanding, even if the reply was a little dramatic. "His son did not follow his father to war?"

She felt Saurfang's discomfort at the question. "That … is a complicated answer. And a personal one best spoken of by Garrosh himself."

"I see." She didn't, but it ended the conversation.

Below, things were getting difficult for the warchief. He was struggling to push back against the strength of the young orc's blows. One particularly savage axe-chop slammed down onto the hilt of his hammer as he held it over his head. The force of it pushed Thrall to his knees.

The warchief cried out, "GYAH!"

Garrosh sounded exhilarated. "Hah! So, son of Durotan, what—"

An impossibly loud voice suddenly boomed through the air, causing the two orcs to stop and look up, as if they could see the speaker. Both Sylvanas and Alyna had to cover their sensitive ears. If Alyna had blood, she knew it would have frozen at the words.

"PUPS OF ORGRIMMAR! HEAR ME, BRASH UPSTARTS OF THE HORDE! TREMBLE, AND KNOW YOUR DOOM, FOR THE LICH KING'S GAZE IS FIXED UPON YOU!"

Almost immediately, she could hear screams coming from outside, followed by frantic shouts and the unmistakable sound of people being cut down. Sylvanas, Alyna and Saurfang immediately ran to the nearby exit.

Huge, lumbering abominations, undead creatures stitched together from multiple bodies, were stomping heavily through the valley below. The damage caused by their cleavers and hooks was immense, and deadly.

A familiar screech echoed through the air, and Alyna looked up. Large frost wyrms were dive-bombing the population, their breath attacks leaving large swathes of frozen destruction. They were arriving in waves, and in their clenched claws they carried the abominations. She watched as one was dropped through the roof of a house.

Saurfang immediately ran back inside the arena.

"Warchief! Scourge forces are attacking Orgrimmar!"