For such a small person, it still never ceased to amaze Kol how fast Ammi could walk when she was focusing.
The tall young warrior watched his mage friend pull herself resolutely over the crest of yet another imposing-looking boulder, her dark brown robe swishing energetically about her ankles with the effort. Ammi's eyes were trained unilaterally on the distant silhouette of the vrykul village still at least a mile and a half to the north, her thin brows narrowed in concentration as she slid carefully down the opposite side of the boulder and began, once again, to march.
It was their first real expedition together as mage and guardian, as partners; both of them had been involved in defending Valgarde from the constant onslaught of raids and assaults by the Dragonflayer vrykul of Wyrmskull Village to the south, but this was the first time that they had been sent outside of the garrison alone to conduct an offensive rather than a defensive maneuver. The thought of actually having to keep Ammi from dying still made Kol faintly queasy; it was simple enough when you were surrounded by a barrack full of other people who all had the same desire to stay alive. Out here, it was just Kol and Ammi, and although Ammi liked to think she was made of iron, it was only too easy for Kol to imagine her skinny frame snapped in half by a pair of massive vrykul arms.
He'd gotten strangely accustomed to her presence without really realizing how it had happened; one moment, she had been just another noise at his side, something else to try to deal with as calmly as possible. Inexplicably, the next…she was his friend. Maybe his best friend; Kol didn't really know what the difference between a friend and a best friend was. All he knew was that his tongue no longer turned to lead when he opened his mouth to speak to her, and that his lips more often formed a smile than a frown when they conversed, which was a novel experience indeed.
"Hurry up, Kol!" Ammi called back to him. "You're lagging!" She laughed, and the sound echoed, bell-like, off the craggy boulders and the trunks of the massive pines. She was some distance ahead of him now, turned around to face him with her hands resting on her hips, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
With a smile and a shake of his head, Kol hitched his knapsack higher on his shoulder and increased his pace so as to catch her, fighting back the steely tang of dread.
We'll be all right. We have to be.
They called a halt just outside the boundary of the vrykul settlement of Nifflevar; Kol found a spot situated on a small, raised plateau with a vantage sloping down toward the village, an effective outpost from which to scout out their objective. He dropped his pack into the snow and hunkered down in a crouch in some attempt to relieve the constant chill brought on by the ever-strengthening winter winds.
"Here, let me help." Ammi raised her hands, but Kol waved his quickly, shaking his head.
"No fire," he said.
"Why not? It's daylight." Ammi lowered her hands slowly, a confused expression on her face. "Surely they won't see us?"
"They won't, but the proto-drakes are more sensitive." Kol gestured toward the village with a flick of his wrist; Ammi turned, and he saw her face visibly pale at the sight of an immense proto-drake gliding silently around one of the crude towers. The thing's leering maw glimmered with magical flame, its ragged, leathery wings somehow making no sound even as they rippled in the breeze.
"Right. No fire." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe and crouched beside him, spitting hair out of her mouth as she did so. "Do we wait for nightfall?"
Kol nodded. "We'll wait for their mealtime. I'm sure they'll still have guards stationed around the edges of the village, but they won't be expecting an attack from only two of us. We'll catch them off-guard." He raised a brow. "Have you been practicing?"
Ammi huffed in frustration. "I'm up to twenty seconds, but that's as far as I can hold a full invisibility charm without losing my focus. Arcanism has never been my strongest suit."
"Twenty seconds is plenty to cause all the havoc we need," Kol said with a reassuring nod. "Don't fret about the magic, Ammi. You're still a novice."
She waved her hand. "Yes, yes, I know. What do we do after we distract them?"
"Sneak inside and find their leader," Kol replied. "And…and kill him." His throat constricted around the words, but he forced them out anyway.
"What about the proto-drakes?" Ammi swallowed.
"…I don't know," Kol admitted honestly. "They seem to be well-trained, but I don't know if the Winterskorn would command them to light a building on fire or any such thing."
"Wouldn't it be something, to be sent on a mission like this and end up dying as proto-drake food?" She laughed a little, but Kol could sense—and smell—the real fear behind the mask of humor.
"No one's dying as proto-drake food," Kol replied firmly, with more conviction than he actually felt. "I won't let you get eaten if you don't let me get eaten."
"That sounds like the job description," Ammi sighed. "If I become a meal, you have to avenge me."
"You're not going to be a meal, Ammi. I swear to you, I won't let it happen." Kol crossed his arms and faced her. "Hey, look at me."
She looked up at him, blue eyes wide with anxiety.
"You are not going to get eaten tonight, Ammi D'Aure. You have my word, on my honor as a soldier, that I will protect you." Kol set one hand against his heart, feeling it thudding at double time within his chest.
Can I even keep this promise? The last person that I swore to protect ended up impaled on the wrong end of the Dark Lady's glaive.
Watching Ammi's eyes flicker with relief, however, hardened his resolve significantly. Her ashen face relaxed, and she presented him with a pale but utterly trusting smile.
"You're my hero." She spoke the words in jest, but there was a ring of truth behind them that struck Kol poignantly to his core.
"I'm your guardian," he said simply.
There was nothing they could do then except dig in and wait for nightfall, which they proceeded to do with great caution. The snows were deeper here on the higher mountain, and Kol found a suitable snowbank in which they carved a small hollow and settled in, their backs resting against the soft cushion of powder, hidden from view as the sun reached its apex and began to sink lower in a rising tide of golden light.
From beyond the confines of their little hiding place, the sounds of life in Nifflevar drifted faintly up to their ears; the clang of weapon on weapon was accompanied by rough shouts in the vrykul language as warriors trained for combat. Underlying the noises of battle, just barely audible, strains of music wafted intangibly through the air, mournful and keening strings which seemed to pine for something irretrievably lost. Kol found himself thinking about Gilneas, about Whitewood, about his mother, whose face was a mere memory now, and that only from portraits. The thoughts sent a tight pain through his already-aching heart.
So much to lose and so little to find in this life, it seems.
"What sad music," Ammi said quietly. Her usually-cheerful face was solemn, the smile robbed by fear and melancholy.
Kol nodded his accord. "It sounds like a eulogy, only in music instead of words."
"What's a eulogy?" Ammi looked confused.
Kol raised his brows. "Have you been so sheltered? A eulogy is a speech given at a funeral in memory of the life of the person who has passed on."
"I've never had cause to go to a funeral," Ammi replied, and Kol felt a little ashamed at the timidity of her response.
"Then you're lucky, and I apologize for my bitterness." He sighed and shook his head. "I have been to too many funerals."
He wasn't expecting it when she laid her hand on his arm; the touch was significantly dampened by the layers of clothes covering both appendages, but the gesture's sweetness remained, and Kol looked up in surprise.
"I'm sorry." Her pale face was awash with sincere empathy, and he almost thought he saw his own pain mirrored in her eyes, though she had never lived it herself. Kol swallowed hard.
A sudden noise cut off whatever reply he might have made; from the forest beyond the village came the distinct, hair-raising sound of howling, keening and slow. First one creature only, and then picked up by many, the howls seemed to echo through the brittle air with an otherworldly ominousness.
Ammi shivered, and Kol felt her body shaking. "What was that?"
"Worgs," Kol said. "They're hunting."
Though the creatures were distant, he could already smell their distinct scent on the wind, and it sent a shiver of both recognition and aggression down his spine. He willed his eyes not to slit ferally as he imagined them doing.
"Hunting?" Ammi's voice rose almost an entire octave in pitch.
"Hunting animals," Kol amended himself quickly. "Not people. Most worgs won't attack a person unless they're threatened."
"Kol, I can't do this." Ammi shook her head feverishly, her curls bouncing around her face. Her eyes were almost manic with terror.
"They won't hurt you," Kol said. "Trust me, Ammi, I'm scared of more things than a warrior should be, but the worgs are the least of our worries." He didn't elaborate on why, hoping she would be soothed rather than curious.
"I'm terrified of wolves, Kol." Ammi clutched his arm so hard that he almost inhaled with the pressure of it. "I have been ever since I was little."
An almost giddy sensation of dread trickled down from Kol's head all the way into his toes, and he swore he felt tears threatening in the cloud behind his vision. He stared at his arm, through his arm and into the blood boiling beneath his skin, as if by just glaring at it hard enough, he could change what it was, somehow.
They set the wolf to guard the shepherdess. And they let her become his friend.
"I promise you that you'll be fine," he said dazedly, patting Ammi's shoulder without really realizing what he was doing. "They probably won't come near us, anyway."
Ammi just continued to shake her head, her teeth chattering audibly as her breathing sped up almost to hyperventilation.
Hating himself, feeling a traitor and a deceiver, Kol wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders and let her lean her head on his chest, her nose pressed into the thick layer of furs and leathers shielding him from the wind. His human fingers mocked him from where they rested against her elbow.
Guardian, indeed. Guardian of nightmares.
By the time night had properly fallen, Ammi had calmed and regained control of herself once more, blue eyes set and steeled against the task ahead. Her face was pale and drained of cheer, but she did not shiver anymore, and her focus could not be denied.
Kol still felt vaguely nauseous from the earlier revelation, but he endeavored not to show a shred of the sick anxiety on his face, calmly going about the business of running a whetstone down both edges of his regulation longsword until they gleamed wickedly in the reflected light from the fires outside their snowbank. Nifflevar had not yet fallen asleep, and its braziers and torches burned powerfully beneath the soft light of a quarter-moon.
"Can you see anything?" the young warrior whispered.
Ammi peered out around the edge of the snowbank, ducking her head low. "There are four sentries," she murmured back. "Two of them are standing guard at the gate of the village, and two of them are flying above the village on their drakes."
Kol swore softly. "No fire magic, then. We'll have to outwit them and outfight them."
"I can't use a sword," Ammi said.
"I can handle both of the ground sentries." Kol waved a hand. "You just need to focus on sneaking past them. Get to the biggest building and light it on fire while you're invisible. That will give them something to worry about besides a couple of little intruders."
"I'll only have—"
"Twenty seconds, I know." Kol nodded. "You can do it. I won't let them find you."
There was a soft huff of breath, and for the first time since their earlier conversation, Kol looked up at Ammi and met her eyes. Instantly, he regretted it; the amount of trust in the liquid blue of her irises was almost enough to make him confess right at that moment.
"Whatever happens…I'm glad we met." She swallowed hard. "You're my best friend, Kol."
His heart was both warm and icy cold at the same moment, and Kol willed himself not to choke on his words.
"And you're my best friend, Ammi."
Leaving it at that, they both eased out of the snowbank and crouched behind their makeshift shelter, gazing down toward the village. Kol waited for the closest mounted sentry to circle away from them before silently gesturing at Ammi to follow him as he slid quickly through the snow and toward the gate. Ammi followed suit more slowly, letting Kol keep himself between her and the guards.
Kol made sure to keep their path non-linear, zigging and zagging across the frozen earth; it became easier as they drew closer, the snows having been cleared away by the Winterskorn villagers earlier that day. He knelt and picked up a pair of sharp-edged stones, drawing to a halt some few meters away from the two ground sentries at a diagonal from their position, concealed from their view by a decently-sized boulder. Ammi crouched beside him, her eyes following the path of one of the mounted sentries as his drake circled past again, fanged maw grinning eerily.
"As soon as I distract them, you have to move, okay?" Kol asked softly.
"I can do it." Ammi nodded rigidly.
"I know you can." He squeezed her shoulder once. "Hey. See you on the other side."
She gave him a pale ghost of a smile, a flicker in the dark; it was all he was going to get.
Kol turned back, waiting for the drake to slide by, and then he was all action. He hefted one of the stones in his hand, turned it once, and then hurled it mightily toward the sentries. It struck the wall of the village just to the left of one of them, and he turned in startled surprise, glaring into the dim distance and barking out something in the vrykul tongue. His partner replied to him boredly, but turned his face as well, seemingly disbelieving.
Kol let go with the other stone, this time hitting the closer sentry in the back. The man exclaimed and turned to his companion indignantly, words issuing from his mouth in what seemed to be a harsh stream of insults. The other sentry replied in kind, and soon they were both shouting at one another, utterly disregarding their duty.
"Twenty seconds, Ammi," Kol said. "Start counting."
He didn't watch her reaction, only steeled himself and sprinted out from behind the boulder, charging toward the two sentries at full speed.
They were preoccupied, but not blind, and both of them turned when they caught sight of him, their eyes opening wide first in surprise, and then in what looked like derision. One of them started to speak, but Kol didn't give him a chance, the sharpened sword dancing in and out to leave a long cut across the vrykul's bare arm. The blood glistened and steamed in the frosty air.
The giant man roared in indignation and pain and swiped a hand at Kol, which the young warrior evaded easily, sliding out of the way as if it were a dance. His comrade now joined the fray, and Kol went back and forth with the two sentries, slicing and dodging and slicing again, and all the time keeping them occupied. The fight felt much longer than it was; Kol let go a deep sigh of relief when he saw flames spark to life inside the village, followed promptly by the sounds of angry shouting and rushed footsteps.
Well done, Ammi.
Confident now that there was a suitable diversion, Kol tonelessly dispatched both sentries in a matter of seconds, willing himself not to cringe at the sight of their blood, bright red against the pale snow. He forced his eyes away from the corpses and into the village; the drake riders were no longer circling, their attention drawn by the huge bonfire now roaring into the dark night sky. With a faint, private grin, Kol slipped through the unguarded gate and into the village.
He met no one; the Winterskorn were all now well and truly occupied with the problem of the fire, which had caught and spread over the roofs of their dry wooden buildings.
Ammi might have done too thoroughly well with her task, he mused wryly.
The building he sought, however, remained still untouched by the flames; it was the largest one, and occupied the prime spot at the furthest edge of the village from the gate, resting on the precipice which overlooked the sheer drop down the fjord. Glancing over the edge, Kol just made out the twinkling lights of Valgarde's torches far below.
The door was locked, but Kol paid it no mind; he stood back, readied himself, and delivered a few swift blows with his heel. The warped wood cracked and bowed inward, and the door gave way before him, a blast of warm air washing over his face from the inside of the building. The room which lay beyond was huge, far wider and taller than a chamber in any human house; and with good reason, for the man who stood in front of the roaring fire with his axe held securely in both hands was equally massive, his bare and muscular chest draped with a mane of long brown hair. He glared defiantly at Kol as the young warrior entered the dwelling.
"Have the little humans sent you to kill me, then?" he asked in heavily-accented Common. "Tell them that it doesn't matter whether I die tonight. The vrykul will reclaim what is ours."
"You first. Then your master," Kol replied.
"You will never breach Utgarde Keep." The huge vrykul laughed in scorn.
"Rarely has a worse mistake been made than underestimating the 'lesser races.'" Kol shook his head. "But I suppose people like you will never learn."
"Enough banter, human scum," the vrykul growled, raising his axe. "My blade is hungry for blood."
Kol felt the bloodrage singing through his veins, as well, but he gritted his teeth and fought it back.
I'm better than that. I am not my Curse.
The fight began, sword clashing against axe with tremendous force as both men met, parted, and met again. The vrykul was as strong as he was enormous, and Kol found himself forced to dodge more often than he could parry the blows, the axe biting slivers from the floor as it sang past his body. Kol managed to open several shallow slices across the vrykul man's bare chest, but his massive opponent simply ignored the blows, bellowing with rage as he pursued Kol away from the fire and back toward the door.
Sweat beaded on Kol's brow, trickling past his eyes; the itching urge to shift shape, to turn the tide of battle back in his own favor, tugged mercilessly at him beneath his skin. He had caught the scent of the blood, and could feel his pupils dilating as it triggered the feral senses, his teeth unconsciously bared in a snarl.
Fight it back. Keep control.
Another swing of the axe, another miss. Kol left another long wound across the vrykul's abdomen and danced back, looking for an opening.
Suddenly, a high, shrill, terrified scream split the air; it was a female voice, clearly either in pain or in danger. Kol recognized the voice, and it cut through the fog of battle and chilled his heart to the very core.
No.
The vrykul laughed maliciously. "It seems your game is up, human. What a choice you have. Do you kill me, or do you rescue whatever little friend is out there waiting for you? That is, if it isn't already dead."
The sound of Ammi's scream rang in Kol's ears, and he let loose a bestial growl and swung his sword viciously, unthinking, without bothering to watch his aim or his guard.
The vrykul clearly was not expecting Kol to reply with a strike, and he let out a loud cry of his own as a deep, bleeding rent opened itself in his chest. It was not deep enough to kill, not yet, but blood flowed from it in a smooth stream, glimmering dully on the huge man's fingers as he pressed a hand to it to stop the flow.
"I'll be back for you," Kol warned dangerously.
"I'll tear you limb from limb, boy," the vrykul hissed, but Kol had vanished before he could make good on his threat.
Kol's senses, already heightened by the rage of battle, now rested on a razor's edge, keen as the blade of his sword. He caught every scent brought to him by the breeze; smoke, furs, the stench of body odor, animals, meat—and there, beneath it all, something that smelled like citrus, out of place and distinctive.
Kol followed it immediately, sprinting as fast as his human legs would carry him, but the scream came again, even higher this time. Ammi was in terrible danger; Kol could smell the fear alongside the lemon scent, and it only provoked him more.
No—I'm her guardian! I can't let this happen! Not again!
Unwillingly, his mind called forth the image of Liam Greymane's pale, lifeless face, and Kol almost physically recoiled from the thought.
I can't protect her unless I let go. And she'll hate me…but I have to save her. I made her a promise, and I will not let her die.
With a cry of rage and frustration, Kol allowed the bloodrage to take over, and shifted shape.
It was still searingly painful; white hot flashes erupted all over his body as he bent forward, front paws touching the ground and doubly increasing his speed. His slitted eyes were fixed ahead now, and sharp canines glinted in the burning light. The young Worgen ran faster than ever he had in his life, following the now-powerful path of scent.
He came upon Ammi just as she screamed again; she was trapped against a rock wall only a little ways outside the village. Clearly, she had hidden just as he had directed her to, but somehow the proto-drakes had sensed her anyway. The long metal quarterstaff which she gripped tightly in both hands was stained at its top end with blood, and the corpse of one of the Winterskorn lay beside her, his head still bleeding slowly. His proto-drake, however, was still very much alive, and it now advanced on the young mage with grinning jaws open wide and gleaming with the first hints of a fiery blast.
Kol slammed into the beast's side at full force, knocking the thing back with a blow from his entire body. It squawked and roared in pain and rage, immediately turning its attention from Ammi to this newer threat, its vestigial arms rotating as it flapped its leathery wings.
Kol let loose a low, feral growl, his sight already stained red. The smell of blood still hovered in his nostrils, and through the scarlet miasma, the proto-drake did not seem anywhere near as big as it had before. It advanced toward him with its strange, rolling walk, clawing at the ground with those tiny arms. Kol charged at it and swiped it across the snout with his claws, jumping away as it hissed and let loose a thin stream of fire. The blast shot past him, singeing some of the fur on his back, but Kol barely noticed, charging in again with teeth savagely bared.
The two creatures locked themselves into bestial combat, clawing and snarling at one another furiously. Kol took several hits, a few minor and a few more serious, but he did not relent, dealing out as much damage as he took. The drake hissed and roared, letting loose more spurts of flame, but it was growing weaker.
Finally, Kol managed to clamp his teeth down around the thing's bony neck; it screamed and writhed as fiercely as any serpent, but it was already dying, and Kol held on ceaselessly until its struggles slowed and finally ceased, the fiery light behind its scales dying out to the grey hiss of doused ashes. He spat the thing out and howled, letting the sound of his victory echo in the air.
He turned his head and caught sight of a pale golden flash some distance away, and growing further from him every moment; at first, it meant nothing to him, but then a thought pierced the bloodlust in a sudden burst of clarity.
Ammi. She's running away.
His human consciousness flooded back in a sick, burning rush.
She's running away from me.
His teeth still red, his tongue still tasting blood, Kol sprinted after her.
He caught her easily; Ammi could not run nearly as fast as a Worgen even under normal circumstances, and she dragged one of her legs behind her as she went now, a sure sign that she was injured under the robe.
Kol passed her beneath the trees and shot out to head her off, skidding to a stop in the snow as she approached him. She still clung to the quarterstaff, and let out a frightened cry when she caught sight of him, raising it high in a shoddy defensive stance.
"Kol!" she screamed. "Help me!"
Oh, Light.
With a heavy ache in his chest, Kol shoved himself up onto his back paws and stood bipedal, raising his front paws in a gesture of surrender.
"Don't fear me," he rumbled in his low Worgen growl. "I would never hurt you, Ammi."
She inhaled sharply, clutching the staff even more tightly. "You…you're speaking. How do you know my name? What are you?"
Kol let out a long sigh. "I am your guardian."
She remained uncomprehending for a long moment, the words hanging in the air; then, realization dawned, and with it, horror.
"…Kol?"
He swallowed and faded back into his human shape, the wind biting at the skin that had been exposed by the attacks of the proto-drake. It always hurt much more in his weaker form.
"Ammi, please don't be afraid," Kol said softly. "I would never harm you."
Ammi didn't let go of the quarterstaff. "What are you, Kol?" she asked again, her voice hollow.
He felt the tears pricking now, and didn't fight their advance. "Worgen. I'm Cursed. Half-man and half-beast, for the rest of my life."
"Oh, Light. Oh, blessed, holy Light." Ammi did let go of the staff then, and it fell into the snow as she sagged to her knees, letting loose a faint whimper of pain as her injured leg bent.
"You're hurt!" He started forward, wanting to do something, anything, to take away the awful, haunted look in her eyes.
"Don't touch me," she whispered.
He jerked backward as if she had struck him.
"Ammi…no. Please, don't do this. I'm still me, I swear. I'm still your friend."
"You could have told me at any time, Kol." Ammi looked up at him in feverish desperation. "Why didn't you? Why did you wait for this to happen?"
"I was—am—ashamed. And disgusted." He bowed his head. "I didn't ask for this to happen to me, Ammi. The Curse was shoved into my life, and now I have to suffer with it until I die. I scare people. Children run from me, and the rest of humanity thinks I'm a monster. And you…now you hate me, too."
She didn't speak for a long moment; then, in a small voice, she asked, "What happened to the proto-drake?"
He looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "I killed it."
At that, Ammi looked startled. "You killed a proto-drake?"
"To save you? Yes. I'm still your guardian, Cursed or not, and I will defend you until I die trying." He rested his fist over his heart, emulating his earlier words. "I made you a promise."
That gave her pause, and she watched him in silence, searching him with her eyes. He let her, closing his own eyes and surrendering utterly to whatever search she desired to make of him. His heart was still sick with pain, his stomach rippling with nausea.
"Kol?"
He didn't open his eyes. "Yes?"
"My leg really, really hurts. I can't stand up."
Kol did open his eyes then; she was crying quietly, her shoulders shaking with fear and anger and relief.
"Do you want my help?" he asked softly.
"…Yes." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and didn't look at him. "Please."
He crossed to her immediately, lifting her as gently as he could and cradling her in his arms. Her ankle was swelling beneath her soft boot, and Kol suspected that it was sprained or even fractured. She shuddered slightly against his touch, but didn't draw away or say anything.
"I'll prove to you that I'm not a monster." He started to walk, away from Nifflevar and back toward the path down into the fjord, toward Valgarde and toward safety. "Ammi, I swear, I'll prove it. Whatever it may require of me."
They continued on in silence.