Chapter 2

Vaedra wasn't especially fond of torture, but so far her attempts to elicit any information either through threats, coercion or lies had been utterly unsuccessful on the fanatical Cultists of the Damned at Aldur'thar.

She'd found a rather secluded spot on one of the overhangs of the fortress that overlooked the Desolation Gate and it had been easy enough to find a distracted acolyte to subdue and drag to the top. The man she had selected this time was thin and wiry with little strength in his limbs, likely a spellcaster of some kind, but she had seen to it that his hands were firmly tied. The rogue couldn't quite tell whether the man was young or old, his face was strangely ageless and wan as though he were already one of the undead that he held so dear.

Once he had come to after being incapacitated, his faintly glowing eyes had darted furtively every which way, never quite focusing on anything in particular as he began muttering bits and pieces of incoherent babble.

The rogue sighed. They couldn't all be crazy, could they? The Cultists had been far too bothersome and accomplished much for them all to be insane, unless there was some kind of unifying force that brought them together somehow in a twisted concoction of madness and chaos.

For the past few weeks, Vaedra had been at war with herself. Should she depart? Try to put everything that had transpired behind her? She had even tried to leave Northrend once, but when the time came to board the ship she was conveniently absent. She knew she couldn't remain idle... it would lead to too many questions and uncertainty, and she didn't want to think about where that uncertainty would lead.

No, it was impossible to pretend that nothing had changed, and even the cowardly part of her knew that she needed to try to make the most of it. The power she had stolen from the Lich King was still new and foreign to her, seemingly boundless in potential to someone who had once been mortal.

Or was she still? Of course there were many entities more powerful than her, but if she so chose she could have found a secluded section of Azeroth and never had to pick up her swords again and lived on in youth for years to come...

But that thought appalled her. There was so much she could accomplish now, the only real decision being for what side and purpose?

And even now as she secretly sabotaged the Cult of the Damned, kidnapping and murdering their numbers and stealing information the rogue had never actually made the conscious decision to use her new powers against the Lich King. Though even if she had made the choice to serve one of the many factions that opposed the Lich King once more she would have found that she had few options left. She was a traitor to the Alliance and hated by the Horde, unwelcome as a rogue by the Argent Crusade and viewed as a betrayer by the Ebon Blade for the part she played in luring them into the Cathedral of Darkness.

Indeed she had no one left to serve but herself, which was a frightening thought for she had seen the effects of gambling her own life to do what needed to be done to meet her own ends.

Of course, amidst that jumble of people and their banners there was always one other choice...

Was it really even a possibility? Was returning to the creature that opposed everything that all of those factions believed in, the man who had become a perfect paragon of evil and destruction... was it even a choice? Vaedra almost laughed. She knew she never would, even if she did secretly desire it, fully knowing that whatever fairytale scenario she might imagine would never be true.

So instead, somehow, she had found her way back to the gates of Icecrown, working to disrupt whatever she could of the Cultist's insane plans.

Her attention returned to the lanky man as his murmuring continued. Pointedly, the rogue slid the dagger she kept hidden in her boot slowly out as she knelt before the Cultist, deliberately drawing it close to his face.

"I'm going to ask you again now. And this time if you don't start answering, I'm going to start cutting off fingers."

The man's eyes snapped onto the dagger as she spoke and his tongue left his mouth to lick his lips consideringly.

Ahh, so they do know fear after all...

If the man indeed was a spellcaster, he probably highly valued the use of his hands. Even though the Cultists had dedicated themselves entirely to the Lich King and his cause it was very unlikely that all but the most zealous could completely ignore their mortal concerns, which was what Vaedra had been counting on.

The rogue's face was impassive as the man's gaze passed over her form dressed in black leather. There wasn't anything outwardly remarkable about her, she had dark, wavy hair and pale but youthful skin. Her irises however, were an unusual shade of purple that shone with an unnatural glow... she wasn't sure if this gave her a more intimidating appearance for surely an average girl like herself didn't exactly cut an imposing figure, but she supposed when she was the one holding the knife it really didn't matter.

"Alumeth..." Vaedra repeated, holding her dagger delicately between her fingers. "I've destroyed his body but still you all repeatedly work to imbue his soul, where is it?"

Alumeth the Ascended, a Cultist who had sacrificed himself in the pursuit of more power. Much like a lich his corporeal form had been dealt with numerous times before it escalated into something unmanageable but as long as his soul remained the rogue's and the Alliance's efforts were in vain for his acolytes worked to continuously boost his power. But if she were to learn of the location of it's source...

The Cultist's lips slowly curled away form his teeth, a hideous grin that showed far too much gum. "You just don't get it, do you..." He cackled maniacally at the woman's frown. "You all think we're insane for serving the Master. Are we? Are we really? The rest of you serve others as well, lesser beings. Is serving a warlord or a priest or men any better? Surely not! For our Master's power is vast, and it is an inevitable truth that we shall serve him in death, so why not accept that fact and ease the passage..."

Vaedra had had enough. She took her dagger to the man's hand and sliced off his right index finger at the knuckle.

The Cultist howled in a twisted mixture of pain and laughter that made the rogue's skin crawl, as though the violence had only served to fuel his ardor.

"Hahah! Fool! Do what you will! Mangle my body, torture me, I care not! I will only live to rise again in glorious undeath and continue my work there, you can never win!" His entire form was taken by tremors as he shook from the mad glee and agony in his hand.

"What if..." Vaedra said calmly, unaffected by his tirade and wiping her blade on the man's robes. "... what if I promised that once I had killed you, I would see to it that your body was burned beyond recognition and that there would be nothing left to raise?"

His gurgling laughter stopped at the rogue's comment, eyes glazing over. Lifting his head up to stare at the sky, the acolyte began speaking, though it seemed to be mostly to himself. "Surely it would be blasphemous to reveal anything of the Master's designs to one of the unfaithful...but surely it would also be blasphemous to knowingly allow myself to not enter the Master's service in undeath!"

Vaedra sighed again; this truly was getting her nowhere. She supposed she could call the man's bluff and continue with torture in hopes that eventually the sheer physical duress would overwrite whatever doctrines had been so thoroughly ingrained into his mind, but to what end? This particular man may not even know anything useful, and it seemed her efforts and energies were going to waste on such a pitiful and tedious subject.

As she glanced back down at the Cultist, she noticed that he seemed to be looking past her, distracted by something else. The rogue spared a glance over her shoulder in time to see a dark figure parachuting downward, floating heavily on the current towards Aldur'thar and her current position. Unable to discern any more details, Vaedra quickly willed herself to fade from view, to become insubstantial and transparent. Gliding away from the bloodied acolyte she slid over to the fortress wall to watch and wait.

The figure collapsed in a heap atop the overhang, muttering and cursing loudly as he disentangled himself from the canvas and cords of his parachute. Vaedra's eyes widened as the large man emerged from under the material, recognizing him immediately.

Shit, not Thassarian...

The rogue was definitely not eager to be discovered by the death knight especially considering the way their last encounter had ended...

Vaedra had been captured and taken to the Shadow Vault where her treachery and assistance in the Lich King's plan to lure Tirion Fordring to the Cathedral of Darkness was exposed. Thassarian had come to her, demanding an explanation, furious that she was willingly serving the Lich King while not under the sway of undeath. But she had said nothing to defend herself, for what could she have?

Much of what she did had been out of necessity, out of a need for a survival... the other part had been nearly as important: doing whatever she could to find a worthy challenge to give her existence meaning. But how would one explain that, especially to one so pure of heart and fully committed to the annihilation of the Scourge?

All was quiet atop the Aldur'thar fortress save the howling wind and the muted mumbling of the Cultist who lay on his side in a small pool of his own blood.

Thassarian glanced around suspiciously, drawing one sword from his back as he slowly approached the man on the ground with a sneer.

The acolyte began reciting words in a strange sing-song voice as he stared at a distant spot in the clouds.

"Raise high our ideals... bring low our foes..."

The death knight examined his blade a moment, as though he was strongly considering what he was about to do.

"Fold their broken into our number... until all serve the Frozen Throne!"

With a swift chop, the eerie melody ceased.

Vaedra held her breath as she watched from her corner, immersed and one with the shadows. She watched as the death knight extracted his weapon from the corpse, a scowl on his marked face. She wasn't sure what had brought Thassarian here and why he had left the Skybreaker, but she wasn't about to get in his way and was secure in the knowledge that her powers would keep her hidden.

Just as the rogue thought that, however, the death knight's head suddenly perked up, like a predator that had just caught an enticing scent. His eyes hardened and he began to scan the platform in long, searing sweeps.

It was Thassarian's turn for his eyes to widen momentarily in surprise as he squinted into the darkness and found the crouching form of the woman that had escaped retribution for the part she had played aiding the Scourge. What she had done had left a foul taste in his mouth in addition to some small feelings of hopelessness from learning that someone like her would knowingly assist Arthas and his growing army. He wanted to believe in the inherent goodness in people, but how could he when it seemed everyone always acted first in their own interest?

Vaedra inhaled sharply as the death knight's dark eyes came to focus on her, his brow furrowing quickly after the shock had abated, silently mouthing a single word.

"You..."

How did he see me? She thought franticly, incredulous that her powers had failed her. She was a shadow, a ghost, strengthened by the Lich King's own dark energy...

During her time alone with no one but the Cultists to prey upon, Vaedra had become accustomed to her superiority: speed, magic, fortitude... all hers to wield upon lesser foes. Her own confidence had grown perhaps too much and being found so easily served as a reminder that indeed she was not all-powerful as did the death knight that was now stalking her way with a murderous stare and one gloved hand slowly pulling his other lean blade from his back.

If this wasn't a fight she could win, however, perhaps diplomacy was the best option...

The rogue rose with her hands up, trying her best to appear harmless and docile. "Please, wait a moment and let me explain-"

Vaedra was forced to dive to the side in a roll as Thassarian swung, a slice that likely would have cleaved her neck. When she righted herself, her own blades were in her hands, held up defensively in front of her.

"I don't wish to fight you!" She pleaded as the man turned and glared at her icily.

Twisting his body languidly to face her, the death knight tilted his head and spoke low and menacing. "You should have thought about that before you betrayed the Alliance."

He dove at her, swords coming down hard at the crouched woman. She flipped away, her blade coming to strike his own in a quick parry as she continued to dodge his offensive attacks.

"If you would just give me a chance, please wait!"

Thassarian looked at her hard, noticing for the first time that her eyes were purple. That was different.

"Indeed, patience is a virtue..." He began slowly. When he saw the relieved look cross the rogue's face he continued with a snarl, "One I no longer possess!"

The death knight blasted a wave of cold outward, chilling Vaedra's bones and casting a surge of dizziness over her. He followed immediately with his blades, moving impossibly fast for a man of his size, fueled by rage and his own dark gift from the Lich King.

Their swords collided, scraping together as the rogue parried and blocked every thrust and slice Thassarian threw her way. Even had she wanted to she wasn't sure she could have shifted the battle to take a more aggressive stance for he matched her stroke for stroke, driving her back towards the overhang edge.

Vaedra had her swords crossed in front with the death knight bearing down upon her, leaning his own blades heavily onto the much shorter opponent. There was no humor on his face as he gained the advantage, merely complacency that he did was he had to against the Scourge. Those that served the Lich King in life were not worthy to live it... they had free will and instead they chose to throw it away and blindingly serve an evil master? Cowards and fools; they needed to be exterminated.

Thassarian pressed his swords down, finding the female rogue to be putting up much more of a resistance than someone of her stature should have. There was no strain evident on her face as she held out against him evenly, teetering dangerously close to the side, merely a cool visage and sad eyes.

With a snarl, the death knight pushed all of his strength forward into a shove which indeed would have worked splendidly had Vaedra not suddenly vanished and reappeared behind him, the pommel of her sword crashing down onto his skull.

She could have taken a mortal stab then at the man if she had chosen to, but a large part of her didn't wish to kill him for he couldn't be blamed for what he believed, how could he possibly have known that she had no choice but to do the Lich King's bidding? At least in the beginning anyway...

Thassarian grunted, dazed by the strike to his head, whirling around and bringing his left blade slicing out as he turned.

But the woman was already gone, having leapt off the side of the fortress, down towards the ramparts below. The death knight gaped after her, watching as she almost seemed to float rather than fall, gliding through the air as if it was liquid. As she touched down and took off at a sprint, Thassarian gauged the distance as best he good before shrugging and hurling himself over.

The ground crumbled and shook beneath his feet as he connected with the stone, reaching the base just shortly after Vaedra as she apparently didn't seem to follow the same laws of gravity that he did. He fell to one knee to gain balance, glancing up to meet the stares of half a dozen Cultist alchemists working over a large, bubbling cauldron.

Ignoring them, Thassarian rose and gave chase to the rapidly fading rogue, snarling all the while, "Get back here!"

Vaedra darted up the stairs that led away from the cauldrons, peeking over her shoulder as she ran. Her eyes widened, incredulous that he had simply followed her down from such a height, her legs pumping even faster as she flew past the busy acolytes who were completely unaware of her presence.

There wasn't, however, any way to avoid noticing the tumult that was Thassarian as he kicked over one of the simmering experiments onto the torsos of the alchemists – who promptly began to thrash and scream – and stomped furiously after the woman.

The Blackguard Cultists patrolling the fortress saw the death knight running madly through their ranks and began to follow, not quite sure that they were ready to throw themselves in the way of the rampaging man but knowing they had little choice.

Vaedra kept running as she neared the split of Aldur'thar where the ramparts turned south forming the barrier that was the Desolation Gate, but stopped short as she saw the distant outline of colossal bone sentinels marching up and down the overlook. She quickly glanced around; the cultists activity would only get thicker if she continued running east deeper into the fortress and the rogue wasn't quite ready to throw all caution to the wind to escape. Easier that she simply jump... though the Valley of Fallen Heroes was a long way down.

Her mind was made up swiftly though as the death knight approached, eyes still firmly fixed on her translucent form. She jumped off.

But Thassarian wasn't about to let her use the same trick twice. Reaching the side as she fell, the death knight extended his hand, a coiling black chain of energy snapped out to seize the rogue around her abdomen, knocking the wind from her chest and pulling her violently back up and onto solid ground.

Vaedra crashed into Thassarian's unprepared form, throwing them both to the rampart floor, swords clattering uselessly to the side as they struggled against one another to gain the superior handhold. The woman jabbed her elbow down into the man's neck, desperately trying to wrap her hands around his throat as she sought for whatever means of escape she could now that she was caught.

The death knight merely grunted and with a brutal right hook his fist smashed into Vaedra's cheek before he threw her off. Thinking he had dazed the rogue and had a moment, Thassarian reached over to grab his swords hoping to catch her at a disadvantage only to find that she had already retrieved her blades as well and was waiting for him.

Just as the metal collided and they traded blows once again, the Cultists that had given chase caught up, forming a semi-circle around the two with their weapons ready, though quite unsure of who to attack. They watched, mesmerized by the whirling blades of death as the two fought, the both of them each having their own characteristics of the Scourge.

Thassarian blasted another wave of cold into the rogue, yelling out angrily as he did so. Vaedra faltered, which opened the most minute of holes in her defenses allowing his blade to scratch a shallow wound into the woman's tricep.

As superficial as it looked though, immediately Vaedra felt weakened as the vicious disease that spread with the death knight's weapons took effect. Turning sluggishly he nicked her again in the side causing a wave of nausea to wash over her, and she knew she was done for.

The Blackguard Cultist's eyes darted between the two, knuckles white as they gripped their weapons nervously, and the rogue reached for the only option she saw that she had left.

Finding a brief surge of strength, Vaedra threw herself aggressively at the death knight, if only for a moment before she cried out to the spectators.

"Come, my brothers! Help me defeat this Ebon Blade traitor!"

Their stares instantly locked onto Thassarian.

Putting as much fervor as she could muster into her next words, she called out, "For the Lich King!"

And with that, they descended upon him.

Thassarian's eyebrows shot up as the five guards all came at him at once, and in the second or two it took for the movement to register, Vaedra had slipped away from his side only to be replaced by the chaotic stabbing of the Cultists, enveloping him and blocking off any path he might have taken to get to the rogue.

"No!" He hissed as he watched her retreat and fade from view, disappearing into a random darkened alcove where he knew he could never find her.

The death knight ducked quickly to avoid a narrow slice to his head as another clinked harmlessly off his heavy armor. His swords were a blur as he blocked the incoming attacks from all sides, cursing loudly at his luck and disbelieving that she had tricked him yet again into another trap.

But Thassarian was the type who tended to look at things optimistically, and now that the rogue had escaped, he saw that he had the opportunity to rid the world of some of the Lich King's odious mortal servants.

He hated Cultists above all else.

And there were only five of them.

Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry how long it took for me to get this chapter out, several weeks is quite a while for me .. I was hit with a bit of writer's block and wasn't able to put down more than a few paragraphs at a time, but I hope you all aren't disappointed with this. As always thank you to my reviewers, I greatly appreciate the feedback, any comments or criticisms are surely welcome... and I hope readers are still interested in the story despite my first fic being completed =)