Chapter Six: Night Terrors

"Who commands this rabble?"

"I reckon I do." The words spill from my mouth before I realize it.

I look around. The air is cold, but not the strength sapping cold of Nothrend. There is no snow, either. Just a dirt road running through a small clearing in a forest. Off in the distance the horizon glows an angry orange against the night sky. But it is not the sun. It is fire.

I am back in Lordaeron. But the words are not mine. I look down, I am wearing Aelfric's armor. Silvered chain mail, polished black gauntlets, a golden chain around my neck. My helmet is different too. In my hands are a large shield, and Aelfric's sword 'Soul-Crusher'.

But this is not me. What is this?

"And you are?" As I expected, the Death Knight stands before me. Behind me is the shield wall I remember standing it. I take a moment to search the faces of the men. But their features run like water, and I cannot make out individuals. Faces blur and run when I focus on them, and they remain indistinct, anonymous. I turn back to the Death Knight.

"Wraecwulf Ranulfson. And you?" I reply, as if I have no control over my own mouth. If I am Wraecwulf, why am I wearing the armor of my lord?

The Death Knight stares at me, icy orbs piercing deep into my soul from within the depths of it's full faced helm. "You will find out soon enough. But right now, I come to you with an offer."

I finally gain control of myself. "What is this? Where am I?" I snarl, gripping the shield and sword tightly in my hands.

A hissing, hacking noise. It's laughing at me. "Why, Lordaeron, of course. Don't you recognize it? Though we have made some…decorative changes to your cities. Wouldn't you like to hear my offer?"

I spit on the ground, the saliva vanishing in a cloud of smoke as it hits a ground now made of human thigh bones. With horror, I realize some of the bones are too short to be those of an adult.

"An offer from a thing like you? Never! Your tongue crafts only lies!"

Another laugh. It must be toying with me. "Well, I shall offer you anyways, because my master so loves new servants. I offer you willing servitude. Power, immortality! What more could a man want?"

The Death Knight takes another step towards me, the thigh bones cracking and grinding beneath his heavy tread.

"What more? I want my village back. I want my family back. I want my lord back. I want my King back. Can your 'King' offer me that?"

A pause. I don't think it expected this. Two-dimensional, these things.

"What do you need a village or family for? When you have immortality, and power beyond your comprehension, what more do you need?"

"ENOUGH!" I scream, my throat burning, and my head pounding with barely contained anger.

"Either fight, or leave me be." I growl, stepping back into the shield wall.

"Very well, Wulf. You have made your choice."

A horde of faceless horrors appear opposite of our shield wall, and surge forward. I grit my teeth, and brace myself for impact. But this is not the Lordaeron I remember, and not the battle I fought. The shield wall splinters, and men die with ease.

They scream as they die, accusing me of dooming them. There is nothing I can do. I scream wordlessly, like a caged beast fighting a futile battle against the steel bars that trap it. Hacking, battering, slicing, and stabbing, I wade into the faceless horde assaulting my men. None of the creatures attack me, and instead concentrate on my comrades, tearing them limb from limb. Boiling blood runs from their wounds, and runs in rivers between bones, under a moon shaped like a skull.

And then the horde parts, and the Death Knight approaches me. I test the grip on my sword and shield. No, not my sword, not my shield, Aelfric's.

"You should've just said yes, bastard whelp!" It hisses at me, and it's weapon screams towards my head.

Just as it had happened so long ago, the shield intercepted the blow, a shattered. I flew across the road, my arm broken and numb. Landing with a thud, I rolled aside just in time to dodge the Death Knight's axe, watching the blade slam home into the earth just inches from my face. I lashed out with my foot, feeling it connecting with solid steel. The Death Knight stumbled back, and I rose to my feet, dancing backwards to avoid a disemboweling stroke.

The screams faded as the last of the men died. A ring formed around the Death Knight and myself. Leering skulls stared at me from every direction. And so caught up in it was I, that I barely sidestepped another downward stroke. With horror, I realized the axe the Knight was wielding, was my own Spirit-Breaker. My eyes catch the crest of Lordaeron engraved into the blade. It has been defaced, crudely scratched and cut to form something more akin to the runes I've seen adorning Death Knight weaponry.

The sight fills me with rage, and I hack at the Knight's wrist as the axe falls past me. With an unearthly scream, the black metal splits beneath the force of my blow, and the hand comes off at the wrist. I get no time to celebrate my minor victory, as I'm thrown across the battlefield in retaliation. The ring of horrors parts to let me fall badly on my broken shield arm. I cry out in pain, my stomach churning as I see my arm bone jutting through leather and mail.

As I rise to my feet, I see the Death Knight approach. I raise my sword to ward a blow I know I cannot stop. But it is not a physical attack that hits me. A bolt of pure blackness, so dark it seems to devour the light around it, hits me square in the chest. My heart stops for a moment, and then every nerve in my body screams in horrible agony. I scream, and scream. There is no shame it, any man would. A shadow falls over me as I fall to my knees. The Death Knight. Hissing and hacking, it mocks my pain. Rage mingles with the agony, but my hands spasm and I drop Soul-Crusher.

"You should have accepted my offer. Either way, you'll serve. I'll give you one more ch—"

"Spare me—" I say through clenched teeth, my eyes filled with utter hate. "—I've heard all this before. Go bugger yourself, you orc-fondler!" I snarl, my defiance pathetic against such strength.

It laughs again, and removes its helm. My defiance is snuffed out like a candle.

"No…"

Laughter. Anger turns to despair, and that makes the agony coursing through my body that much worse.

"Oh yes. Whether or not I had wanted it, I served. Just as you will. I was fortunate. Our little last stand impressed someone very important. And now? I'm glad I stayed behind."

"Ael—" I couldn't even finish his name. "Lord…what have they done to you?"

"I was given the ultimate gift! Immortality! The power to crush anyone who stands in my way! A gift you too could have, Wulf."

I shake my head, numb with shock. "No, no. You are not Aelfric…and this is not real!"

Aelfric stamps on my broken arm, splintering and grinding the bones further. I scream again, and he laughs. "Feels real enough, I think, doesn't it?"

"No! I am not here! I am in Northrend! Lordaeron is dead, it has been for years! Let me out of this dream!"

"Oh no, there won't be an end to this for you." He stamps on my arm again, I can't even scream anymore, my voice is gone.

"Then I'll let myself out…" I whisper through blood-caked lips, and I slip my short knife from the sheath on my belt, and plunge it into Aelfric's ankle, between the gap in his armor. My lord shrieks, and with pure reflex, his axe descends on my head.

Blackness. Pain. A voice.