AN: Really sorry, folks. Real life came and bit me in the butt, taking out the time I wanted to write. Between the Blizzard Writing Contest, college, WoW, and NaNoWriMo, Fang and Spell hasn't been getting much love. That -will- change, though. I'm determined to finish this story off, seeing as the 'end' is truly near...
"That must be them."
The woman lifted a finger to point out over the fire-scorched plain, and Triadae followed her gaze, eyes narrowed. Beside her, she felt the slender woman drop her arm and move behind her to the others who had been sent out with them. Triadae's fingers knit together in worry; no matter how she tried, she couldn't see where the other woman pointed. Yet she still continued to follow without resistance, believing in the skills of the one who served those who had saved her. Saved her and the others, including these ones. She jumped as the leader gently touched her bare arm, glancing over at the blonde, who simply smiled comfortingly.
"I'm sorry. I just can't..."
"See them?" Ashadel's smile became a grin, and Triadae felt a faint flush of shame as she looked away. The rogue parted from her, handing over a pack that Triadae carried without question. "I've been doing this a long time, friend. My path isn't one of shadows and silver tongues. I owe my life to the caravan, and I do for them what I can. I was told to assist you in any fashion that I can, and you have been worried for the others."
Triadae blinked as the blonde narrowed her eyes at her, and looked away quickly. It was true, of course. Her thoughts had been on those who were missing, if only to drive her thoughts away from the fear and pain that she had experienced. Kalthor had been very little help, seemingly stuck in his own world when he got too near to her... it hurt too much to be around him, and so she avoided both him and the priestess who seemed to become his shadow. She was shown kindness among the others, but she found that she could no longer mingle like she once was able to. So she had jumped at the chance to find the troll and tauren who had not yet returned.
She looked back out to where the rogue had pointed, her fingers pulling through the short-cropped hair that irritated her so deeply. Around her, the small pack of mingled sellswords laughed and packed their things, but she could not join in their mirth. Light knew she had tried. The first day, the second, the third... she clung to Brinella as if the druid was the only thing that kept her grounded. Never once did the worgen complain, reading the slender elven woman like a book. Triadae found that she was no longer afraid of the woman in her bestial form, and there had been some comfort in being able to curl up beside the druid as she slept.
It had been Brinella who asked for the party to be formed. While she had not gone with the group, her word was backed by others who had come to know and pity the Sin'dorei woman. Though she would not admit it to anyone outside of her own mind, Triadae was slowly accepting the hodge-podge band as a second family. It was for that reason alone that she chose to believe the rogue who led her and the others.
"Red."
Triadae jumped as Ashadel's fingers wiggled in front of her nose, flushing again as the woman grinned. That grin made her uneasy in more ways than one. She stood still as the group moved forward, waiting for them to get a few steps ahead before she followed as well, a looming sense of unease growing through her that had nothing to do with the hidden promises in every step the blonde took.
"Do ye trust 'er, Fawn?" The dwarven male grunted as he climbed just behind the rogue, his arms bulging under the strain of lifting all of his weight and the satchels strapped to his back. "Seems ah little uh... out of it."
Ashadel paused at the top of the outcropping, her hand brushing through the golden hair that set her apart from everyone else in the group. Her breathing was barely labored, slender body hidden beneath thick leather, but she was beginning to itch with sweat. Pale green eyes fell on the warrior who struggled behind the agile climbers, her lips set in a thin line for a moment before she nodded. "Yeah, I trust her."
"Too damn skittish, if ye ask me." The man sputtered from beneath a black beard as the rogue patted his head, all of his indignant gaze focused solely on her pelvis.
"Good thing I'm not asking you then, hm?" She lowered her voice as the others filed by, "I'd be wary of her if she wasn't as skittish as a hare in a den of wolves. You don't face a death like that and come away from it with a smile on your face."
Galfir blinked once, his dark eyes flicking between the rogue and the warrior for a moment before he barked a laugh, smacking the rogue on her thigh as he spoke. "Shoulda known. Tend ta ferget ye've seen hell yerself, lass. Fine then," he paused long enough to pull a pipe out from a pouch on his hip, tapping it against his teeth. "Ye know the next question then, eh? Readin' mah mind again?"
Once more the rogue grinned, but there was some bit of sadness in her eyes as she observed the warrior. "She'll be fine. The fire just needs to be stoked again, the others were right about that much. Maybe getting to the others will help her out, maybe it won't. Maybe she'll live her life afraid, terrified of shadows."
"Ye made it." The dwarf eyed her.
"I'm still terrified, Galfir." The rogue smiled sadly, moving past him to lend a hand to Triadae. Galfir grunted again as she passed, pocketing his pipe once more to move with the others.
"Give me your hand, and keep your sword close. I don't want to hear anything but the sound of your panting in my ears, you got that?" Ashadel gripped Triadae's hand tightly, holding her firmly while the warrior climbed the last few feet. For all of her strength, it was clear that the woman didn't climb things much. Compared to the others, she was struggling for breath, her face flushed with exertion and sweat plastering her hair to her skin.
She was beautiful.
"Understood," the warrior groaned out as she dropped to her knees beside the rogue, and Ashadel found herself fighting back an urge to curl fingers in red hair and finding new ways to make the woman groan. She practically felt the vivid green eyes of the woman on her back as she turned away to face the others. Two of them grinned back at her, and Galfir rolled his eyes.
They knew her too well.
"The shaman and his companion are moving slowly. They're either wounded, or starting to run out of energy. Let's not forget the fact they're surrounded on three sides, and they aren't heading the right way. Our job is to get in there before they meet others who aren't trying to keep them alive. The Twilight are in a frenzy after our last set of attacks, and we're running on guesses that we may have gotten at least one of their superiors.
"This doesn't mean we're getting it easy. I could have done this with two of us, but I figured we all wanted out of the camp and away from the bubble we've been living under for the last month." She paused as the others chuckled, but her tone turned somber. "It is imperative that we get those two out alive. The less bloodshed we have, the better... but I'm not telling you to hold your blades. If you get the chance, cut them down.
"Dispose of bodies the best you can, and get what we need. Nothing else. When we're all in, Galfir's going to be working his magic. When we're safely out, Galfir's going to put on a pretty display for us. If you're not up here to watch the show when it's time, then it better be because you died with a smile on your face down there, am I understood?"
There were no words, merely a grim nod of four heads. "You'll be paired. Galfir, I want you to take the kid." She gestured to a leggy brown-haired boy, and barely managed to hide a smile as the boy pumped his fist in joy. The dwarf merely nodded, tapping his fingers against his biceps. "Tahti and Riv, you two will be paired. I'll take Red." The female troll and kaldorei male both nodded, and Ashadel looked back to Triadae, who met her eyes only long enough to nod her own assent before glancing back out the way they had come.
"Let's get going. In and out, friends. In and out."
"What's yer name again, kid?" Galfir dropped lightly to the ground, and begin to rearrange the packs that he had lowered down before them. He felt the ground rumble beneath him as the boy jumped as well, and then the clank of the metal hook as it hit ground, making them both hold their breaths until the tension passed.
The boy flushed, quickly fetching the rope and coiling it again. "Sorry, sir. Jacob. My name is -"
"Jacob, yeah. I heard ye the first time. Yer one o' Greta's whelps, aren't ye?" His grin was masked beneath his beard as the boy nodded, but it was there nonetheless. Galfir sucked idly at his pipe, tapping fingers along his arm. "Good woman, yer mother. Remember yer da much?" Those dark eyes watched the boy closely, saw the dark hair and foal-like body, and saw nothing of the mother in him. Not until the boy looked him in the eyes.
"Nah." Jacob shook his head and threw the rope over his shoulder. "He left when Ma started showin'. Came aroun' again after my sisters were born, got Ma heavy with twins tha' she lost. Ended up dyin' up north a year or so ago. Only time I ever saw him was when he snuck inta Ma's cart with tha caravan. Lotsa people do tha, though. Just knew him because we looked alike."
Galfir gazed at the boy a bit longer, then nodded briskly. "Happens. Ye siblin's..."
"Different fathers. Most of 'em, at least. Ma just likes tha' sort of thin'. Everyone there does." The boy stretched and moved away from the wall, towards the rock that cleverly hid them both. There was no one else in the area, not for another mile at least. It was safe for them to speak, safe to even yell if they so wanted to.
"Hmph. Ye've got a good head on yer shoulders. Greta's a good woman." The dwarf lumbered past, hooking satchels and pouches to his broad back once more. One of them was handed over to Jacob, who took it without a sound. The two crept along the base of the mountain, slipping nimbly between rocks and burned out trees until they were no more than a stone's throw away from their mark.
Galfir stopped, holding his hand back to the boy and drawing him close to speak to him without his voice carrying. "Ye see tha line o' rocks just past the bonfire there?" He continued as the boy nodded, "I want ye to take your bag, tie the end o' it to this rock here. No, not tha bag. What's actually in tha bag. It's a fuse, but ye already knew tha." He grinned as the boy nodded. "Smart lad. Can ye figure out the rest o' it, then?"
"Yeah. You've got the rest o' it here. I take the fuse around that way to the other side without getting' caught. You'll follow after me with the explosives." His eyes flicked to the mountain. "You plan on bringin' it down on them, literally. Would take a bit... I didn't see you bring that much."
"Aye. What you don't see is what'll kill ye." Galfir moved his shoulder, the heaviest bag shifting slightly. "Keep tha fuse along the wall. Tie it ta somethin' o'er there and then keep goin'. We've got ta get as far around here as we can before the others are done. When ye've run ou' ta cord, follow it back ta me. I'll give ye a good lesson in explosives."
Galfir grinned as the boy practically lit up. Never before had he seen someone move so quickly, so deftly. The boy was tied off and gone before any other instructions could be given, but Galfir had none to give. The boy was good, obedient and honest, something that could be taken advantage of easily. Just not by him.
Greta was everything to both of them, though Galfir hadn't admitted it to anyone. The half-dwarven woman was as much a mother to those who knew her as she was to her children, and it had been her who had peeled away the layers of ice and stone that Galfir had wrapped around himself after the final battles in Northrend. While the rest of the caravan milled about in their own lives and thoughts, Greta had nursed him back to health with wit and charm. Things he had forgotten he even liked.
He didn't even mind her muddied blood. She was thick bodied, with all the fire of the dwarven people inside of her. She was accepting, loving, nurturing to those who claimed they didn't want it. When she started something, she finished it. Galfir was, on some level, intimidated by her. He knew he owed his life and sanity to her, that only her word had allowed him to remain a part of the caravan with the others whom he now regarded as family.
Galfir loved her, but so did many men. She was easy on the eyes, and welcoming in the bed. Her desires were clear, and no man ever was expected to stay around long enough to see them through. Thirteen children and no husband had taught her the pain of separation, yet she never clung to any of them like some weeping maid. The woman had too much pride to do that, and in her children... he saw all of that pride a thousand fold.
Once certain that Jacob had gone from his sight, he swung a satchel around and began taking out the contents. Several small, yellow wrapped blocks of what looked like nothing more than modeling clay and a handful of small devices with an antenna on the end, and something that looked like prongs on the side, with a glassy surface opposite. Galfir was not a conventional dwarf in some ways. Engineering had taught him the value of experimentation, and so he had begun to formulate things that would have made most people back away. Even gnomes and goblins. Muttering under his breath, he pulled his goggles down around his eyes and set to work.
"What are they doing?" Riv peered over the ledge that he and his companion were crouched on, his fingers digging further into the soft rock. Golden eyes watched the gathering of people below them, a mass of black and purple that was dotted with the bright colors of gnomish hair. It was an odd sight, seeing so many who bore so little similarity to anyone else, gathered in one place. Or at least it would have been, if he had not been crouched beside a troll woman at that moment, and had not shared a bed with an orcish woman the night before.
"Mm?" The troll followed his gaze, saw the swarm of people who stood apart from the others, wildly gesturing as if they were having an argument. "Fahtin', it seems tah me." Her eyes narrowed as sparks flew, quite literally, and she saw the objects in their hands. So did Riv.
"Building. What are they building..."
"Nah many tings dat can be built wit'out fire an' anvil." Tahti frowned and moved, her leathers making only a soft whisk of sound as she dropped to the ledge beneath them, hugging the wall tightly. "Can't be seein', mon. Too much distractions be aroun' dem. I can see da dwarf an' boy, over dere." She pointed past the group, far past the range of the fires, and the elven man nodded slowly. He could see only the shapes, one lanky figure and another stout one working alongside one another. "'e gone soft, da dwarf. It be good to see 'im smile."
Riv grunted, his eyes leaving the darkness to look for the others. They had been too late in intercepting the tauren and troll; the two had run into those they had hoped to keep away from them, but there had been no danger as of yet. It looked as though the two could take care of themselves – or at least lie through their teeth. Riv shifted his weight, flexing toes that were going numb with his lack of movement. "Do you see the other two?"
"Nah. Tah be expected, with de Fawn. Nah so sure about de other one, but I be seein' neither of dem." Tahti rolled her shoulders, her eyes on those who continued hammering away. A few moved, and her head tilted in thought. "'ey, Reev? Why would gobbies be workin' on metal? Large pieces."
The elven man froze, his eyes going from camp up to the troll. "How large?"
"Eh, 'bout de size o' a dragon."
"Go get the kid and dwarf. I just got a very bad feeling."
"Bu -"
"Now, Tahti." His eyes were back on the plates. "How many dragons do you know that need plates to hold them together?"