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Chapter 13: War III
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Today was to be a great day for one Magister Dar'Khan Drathir: the most punctual, elegant, ambitious and traitorous of them. One who valued fine things - he wore very eye-catching and unique clothes and outfits, that looked more suitable to a banquet or ball rather than to a magister. Yet he wasn't the one who'd sink low enough to wear those dull robes, as clothes didn't make the mage, only skill did - so he saw no point in wearing them.
He was a handsome and skilled elf, that he knew and exploited, but also who felt under-appreciated. Years of serving, teaching and numerous developments for the betterment of Silvermoon and all who lived there - yet each and every time the position of Grand Magister was awarded to Belo'vir Salonar, an old and aging elf, who fit the bill of a wise magister with a gray beard and long robes. So they denied him, because he didn't look the part? Who made the rule of looks, skills and success not allowed to go hand-in-hand?
It didn't matter, not anymore - because soon they'd all see the foolishness of their arrogance and ignorance. Nodding to a few guards, as he approached the Magister's Terrace, his long-trimmed hat hiding his by large grin. Days ago a human had approached him, having seemingly just appeared out of nowhere in Quel'Thalas - calling himself Rivendare, a Baron from Lordaeron, but what he possessed made him even more curious - a simple noble, yet he wielded magic, namely necromancy, on a scale with a level of skill that even suprised him...more so that he came with an offer.
Namely one, where he was planning on going to raze everything in his path to Silvermoon, and acquire an item of importance from there. For what purpouse he didn't say, normally an elf would report this kind of danger to his homeworld, but Rivendare gave him an offer he couldn't refuse - access to the Sunwell itself and the chance to play hero, and claim his just rewards. The Baron would rush through their defenses and reach the Silvermoon,
then afterwards he would 'repel' the undead and be declared Savior of Silvermoon and all the rewards entitled to him. Seemed simple enough and if the Baron tried to double-cross him, then he could easily kill him with the magics he possessed - Rivendare was even kind enough to empart with him a piece of his magical might, for his part.
For everything to work however, a few things needed to be removed - namely a few runestones and a couple of magisters to prevent them from shielding up Silvermoon against the undead. Also the chance of getting some sweet revenge against those who denied him was most pleasant. The few sentry stone he had placed had reported back to him by then - the Baron had breached, arrived and already blasted through the first gate, an impressive feat nonetheless. Now it was his time to get to work.
"Warmest greetings, fellow magisters," spoke Dar'Khan, as he entered the personal chambers of the Silver Circle - only a few grumbled and went back to their duties.
"I think...we should discuss something important today," he said, walking behind one.
"Namely what, Magister Drathir?"
"Your demise..." he whispered, slicing the neck of the female infront of him with a dagger. Followed by a blast of nercomantic energy to the farthest elf in the room, with the rest scrambling to regain their senses...too late. He chanted a spell, one that the Baron had taught him, and what happened was the draining of the very lifeforce and mana from the gathered magisters - leaving them as decaying husks. Yet the aftermath felt excilirating for Dar'Khan - he felt rejuvinated, stronger, younger...reborn. Were the elves ever fools to outlaw this type of magic.
Cleaning up his hands from the blood, and leaving a skull-adjorned, rusty dagger in one elf - they would suspect the Baron and his Scourge afterwards and not him. Yet still no satisfaction of killing that Grand Magister who wasn't here...no matter, he'd deal with Belo'vir later.
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"Keep down!" whispered Lor'themar in a harsh tone, holding back Halduron from revealing their location...to save an elven family, from a group of trolls.
"They'll die," replied Halduron in anger, yet keeping his tone low. Things had gotten from bad to worse as soon as Sylvanas pulled back her forces, leaving them alone. As Farstriders they were used to that, but not to be then ravaged by the trolls, who filled the undead' spot.
The undead blitzed right past them, ignoring most of the outer-villages - likely rushing towards Silvermoon. But then the trolls came in force, starting to burn everything the undead missed. The thought of both parties working with eachother made Lor'themar' blood boil. Even more in anger, because between them both, they couldn't stop the slaughter to happen alone.
"We can't..." growled Lor'themar lowly. The trolls were holding a man and a woman down, while holding a gagged little girl infront of them. This would get sick, and they forced to watch it happen and not be able to help..
"Zala' sura guba!" spoke the troll, raising its axe high, above the little girl' head. Tears running down her face, as she looked to her mom and dad for support.
"Don't look sweety!" cried back the woman, sickened as the trolls started their barbaric chant and ready to execute her little precious.
"Zaa!" roared the troll, then the chanting stopped and the axe fell...colliding ...with hard...metal.
"BRUTES!" roared Arthas, decapitating the almost-elf killer. Then he jumped onto the troll near the woman, while his horse charged and kicked at the troll near the man. Two arrows quickly following, taking out the two shocked and standing trolls.
Even the downed troll was taken aback as Arthas, a human literally kicked the mojo out of him. Each punch had an inhuman fervor and might behind them, finishing off with a nasty head-butt, denting the metal helmet and cracking the skull of the troll. Arthas getting back up and cleaning the troll blood of him.
"Minn'da! Ann'da!" cheered a voice, as she reopened her eyes to see her mom and dad alive, running over and hugging both of them happily.
"Impressive," came a voice, as two elves appeared - rangers, while Arthas was eyeing the family.
"Your arrows?"
"Indeed - Halduron Brightwing. Lor'themar Theron," said Halduron, introducing themselves. "You saved them."
"Prince Arthas Menethil..." he replied, clancing at the overjoyed and happy family, who were glad to be alive. "...and it was nothing..."
"Why you come here?" asked Lor'themar, curious on why a human prince was here.
"Undead. Attacked our towns, villages and cities, we're chasing after them," replied Arthas, being half-truthful.
"You just missed them human," replied Lor'themar. "Passed by here two hours ago.
"That long?!" asked Arthas worried.
"Not to worry - these undead could keep assaulting us for days and not gain any ground," replied Halduron.
"If only that were true, yet knowing the undead they'll overrun you before the sun sets."
"What?!" asked Halduron shocked at the statement. Elves weren't much on heavy-infantry yes, but they weren't useless in combat.
"How far were the undead?"
"Passed by our first gate - their magically enchanted to hold back attackers. The second one is more heavily defended, they can't pass through there," spoke Lor'themar.
"...and if they did pass?" asked Arthas.
"Unlikely...but they would then face the wrath of the magisters," replied Halduron, leaving Arthas to figure out the type of retribution himself.
"Against both the undead and trolls?" asked Arthas.
"...that...might be more challenging..." admitted Lor'themar. The elves were a strong force, yet he doubted how much they could fare against a two-front battle - remembering the Second War, when the orcs and trolls had joined forces.
"Good thing I didn't come alone," replied Arthas as his forces finally caught up with him. Both Farstriders impressed at the size of army following Arthas.
"Do you have to always rush in, M'Lord?" asked Falric, speaking up first.
"To save a young family..." replied Arthas, indicating at the safe elven family. "...then yes. Now then, how bad is the situation?"
"Undead moved by here, yet the trolls are the major problem now," explained Lor'themar. "The undead pushed our forces back so we don't have anybody with us to deal with trolls attacking the outskirts."
"That can be fixed," replied Arthas, facing his army. "Highlord Mograine, can you handle the trolls?"
"That I can," said the battle-hardened paladin.
"Good. Captain Marwyn, take two-hundred soldiers with you and start dealing with the trolls and helping the civilians," ordered Arthas, making sure the relief force had a sympathetic commander and a man he could trust leading them.
"Yes sire!"
"You need a guide to reach the villages, our paths and forest are easy to get lost in," spoke up Lor'themar. "Halduron can lead you."
"Very well. Move out!" said Marwyn, as he, Highlord Mograine and two hundred men followed after Halduron.
"How far is the second gate?" asked Arthas, wanting to secure the safety of a certain person.
"Twenty minute ride. What are you planning, Prince?" asked Lor'themar.
"If your defenses hold, then my forces can attack the undead from behind. Catching the undead between two armies and utterly crushing them and preventing any chance of escape," explained Arthas.
"Indeed - very well, follow me...and keep up," replied Lor'themar, starting to run towards the Second Silvermoon Gate. Hoping that Sylvanas had managed to hold back the undead forces. Arthas and his one-thousand eight-hundred strong army following.
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Managing, was that an understatement of Sylvanas' situation - she was barely holding onto her position by the skin of her nails and teeth. Undead in the front, trolls on her side, they were both keeping to their distant battlefields yet seemed to attack at the same time, hammering them hard. Sylvanas fears were coming to realization: the trolls and undead were working together. She couldn't send any forces to counter-attack the trolls nor reinforce her frontal position against the Scourge. Now she was counting on the magister' support or else the unholy forces could overwhelm Silvermoon' defenses, if they weren't prepared - they just had a too strong momentum.
But now Sylvanas was getting seriously worried, she had send several runners to inform the magisters of Silvermoon of the incident - so far she had gotten zero response, not from the magisters or from her runners. For the second time, Sylvanas felt the fear creep up her spine, not felt since her journey to Northrend. Common sense told her that she might be able to hold this position for another hour maybe, before her forces would be too exhausted and depleted to fight on.
"Sylvanas! We got a problem!" yelled Nathanos, returning from his scouting mission. Joining Sylvanas' in her camp.
"Status?"
"Same as usual - bad. But there is something worse happening," said the human ranger.
"What?"
"The Keys - one of their locations has been overrun!" replied Nathanos.
"Impossible," muttered Sylvanas, now she was really scared - the three Keys to the Second Silvermoon Gate were hidden and protected - by magic, might and trickery. Nobody knew of their hidden locations besides her and a few magisters. Now she was faced with the possibility of a traitor in their most dire time.
"Sylvanas?"
"Moment..." she sighed, breathing deeply and exhaling, she was a mess and it was getting worser by the minute. "How far are they from the other two?"
"Unknown. Yet...I'd say not far," replied Nathanos.
"Damnit! Can I get any good news?!" cursed Sylvanas.
"Evening," spoke up a crispy and charming tone. One Sylvanas didn't want to deal with at all, yet during this situation she'd accept help from even Magister Drakthir.
"Welcome, Magister!" replied Sylvanas, greeting the extravagantly dressed magister, who exited the portal but came alone.
"I'll take my leave," whispered Nathanos, leaving the camp as he didn't want to deal with the magister' comments regarding him or any other things.
"What I might inquire is happening here?" asked Dar'Khan, walking towards her as Nathanos left.
"Undead, trolls! We're being attacked!" replied Sylvanas, throwing finess and punctuality off the cliff as she needed aid fast and wasn't in the mood for any royal greetings - having to fight for hours straight did that to an elf.
"Well...I didn't expect them to be this far," said Dar'Khan calmly with a grin on his face, eyeing the troll/undead battles from ontop of the cliff.
"We need help! Where are the magisters?" asked Sylvanas, almost losing her patience.
"Oh? They won't be joining us..." replied Dar'Khan. "...but you'll be joining them."
"Wait! Wha-GAH!" gasped Sylvanas, as she felt a sharp knife being stabbed into her stomach, drawing blood.
"Sorry...but your too dangerous for me...and my future...nothing personal..." said Dar'Khan, redrawing his dagger and kicking Sylvanas off the cliff into the forest below. Then he turned towards the shocked encampment, unleashing his new magical skills upon them.
Down below, Sylvanas fell through multiple branches and leaves, each impact making her body hurt more - until finally she hit the ground hard, with several broken places and a bleeding gut.
'Damn you!' thought Sylvanas, as the sounds of battle raged up high - Dar'Khan had betrayed them; he was known to ambitious and power-hungry, yet this? Groaning through the pain, she needed to get up and hurry away - or else she'd be easy-picking for the trolls or undead; but now she was a mess..
"...va...s..." spoke a voice, a figure running to her, yet her vision was hazy and her head dizzy.
"Sylvanas!" repeated the voice - Nathanos, shaking her wake. "What happened? I saw something happening and you falling."
"Betrayed! Dar'Khan!" spat out Sylvanas, too weak and injured
"Fucker! We need to hurry," said Nathanos, covering her gut-wound.
"I'm bleeding! Bastard stabbed me in the gut, and threw me down. I think I broke something as well," groaned Sylvanas, trying to stand up.
"No use. Guess we have to do this the hard way," replied Nathanos, hoisting Sylvanas onto his back.
"What-"
"We gotta hurry. Our lines will collapse soon and we'll be overrun. So I'm carrying you," said Nathanos, running at Silvermoon' direction through a secret ranger way.
"What about...the others?" asked Sylvanas, although knowing the gut-wrenching answer herself.
"...let's hope they can survive through it..." replied Nathanos, being careful not injure her. "...but we can't do much anymore to help them..."
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A/N: War continues, Sylvanas is injuried and Dar'Khan treachery is revealed and Arthas is rushing to the aid - will he make it?
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