Disclaimer: Warcraft is the property of Blizzard.
Chapter 14: War IV
XXX
Rivendare eyed the carnage from a top overlooking the Second Silvermoon Gate, now smashed apart with undead moving through it - acquiring the Keys to the gate was an easy task, with help from a mutual partner. Rivendare was suprised that the power-mad elf hadn't seen through the fault of his plan - why would he attack Silvermoon for some artifact, if Dar'Khan could easily acquire it for him? By the time he'd recognize his mistake then it would be too late and the Scourge would be victorious.
"You seem to be in-thought," came the voice of his spectral friend, Kel'thuzad.
"Maybe...and you seem a bit chatty for someone who is dead with his remains in a crypt in a Scholomance crypt," replied Rivendare.
"...ahha true that, another thing I am graced thanks to the Lich King," said Kel'thuzad.
"If his powers are so great, then why can't he revive you himself or has to be errand-boy for a bunch of dreadlords?" he asked.
"He is mighty - as evident by yourself. A simple noble turned into a mighty spellcaster; a death knight. You had been doubtful when I had asked you to join...now look at you," replied Kel'thuzad. "Sadly yes, his powers can revive me...but it would take a toll on his powers..."
"Then why are we playing soldier here? We should be defending our lord...not...chasing elves!" said Rivendare in anger. "You said his forces are stretched on Northrend, and that the dreadlords haven't been of any help in solving it."
"Oh, don't worry about that - the Lich King might be 'incapacitated' for now, yet his directive still guides us. Don't worry too much about that."
"...and what of this assault? I think we're over-stretched here as well, Lordaeron might retaliate soon...and you heard that dreadlord, Tichondrius. Victory or...else..." spoke Rivendare.
"Not to worry - no matter how this invasion goes, the Scourge will be victorious in its objectives..the Lich King isn't as...jailed...as you might think friend..." chuckled Kel'thuzad.
"Is that so?"
"Indeed...you just worry about getting to the Sunwell and acquiring the waters there. Leave the rest to us..."
"As you wish," replied the Baron, as Kel'thuzad' form disappeared. He himself joining the undead army in its final push - Silvermoon.
XXX
The Grand Magister of Silvermoon, Belo'vir Salonar wasn't pleased at what he saw coming in the distance; an army of undead, filled with ranks of skeletons, wraiths, ghosts, strange contraptions, hulking fleshy creatures and even dead trolls and dead elves among them. He had been curious on why the Farstrider outposts had gone silent, with even no word from the Ranger-General herself - until he heard the rumours of an invasion force coming; at first he suspected the humans, for whatever reason they had, being that only they had army large enough to invade but now he was dead-certain that the humans weren't the culprits.
Undead - were they a disgusting sight; orcish death knights had raised mindless skeletons during the Second War. By then they looked bad and smelled bad as well - now another fool was attempting it a second time, and he seemed to have taken his time un raising an army of them. How did Lordaeron miss this kind of annoyance was beyond him, yet now it was time to get to work.
"King Anasterian. We have a problem," spoke the aged magister calmly, arriving down from the spire and into the Sunstrider throne room.
"So I've heard..." replied Anasterian. "Summon the Silver Circle."
"Right away," said Salonar, opening the door to their quarters...where he was assaulted by a horrid sight and stench. "...I...I think we have a problem..."
XXX
Sylvanas had dozed off while being carried - she was tired, from both the fighting and her wounds. This invasion had taken a toll on everybody, her included - and it was far from over. She could smell the stench of undeath, the sound of bones and metal clanging, and the sight of a traitor - Dar'Khan. His betrayal could've been expected, but it still felt unreal - Quel'Thalas and the entire elven race could be doomed now, because of his' action.
"Ohh..." groaned Sylvanas, waking up and still feeling ill. "How far?"
"We got a few more paces," replied Nathanos, taking it slowly as the trail they were on was laced with magic and traps. "How you feeling?"
"Bad..." replied Sylvanas, coughing up blood.
"Damnit, you need a healer fast!" cursed Nathanos, moving a little faster. "We're almost there."
"Good to know..." groaned Sylvanas.
Although when they exited the forest and set their sights on Silvermoon, they weren't greeted by a warm sight - instead Sylvanas watched with horror, as undead assaulted their forces on the ground, gargoyles fought their own dragonhawk riders in the air and meat wagon unleashed their deadly payload upon the city, destroying a few buildings in the process - and the elves weren't on the winning side; trolls were among the undead ranks: batriders took down several dragonhawks and more than a few trolls killed off some of their best swordsmen.
'Where is the golden shield of the Sunwell? Where are magisters? Where?!' thought Sylvanas, almost teary-eyed. Gasping at the horrific sight before her.
"Now, we've got to hurry!" said Nathanos, getting a good status of the battlefield before heading at full sprint towards Silvermoon. Coming from the side, Nathanos didn't waste time looking back or thinking straight, just running straight.
"Get! Down!" reared a voice, as Nathanos skitted on the ground and a dozen arrows flew over-head hitting two chasing gargoyle.
"Ranger-General! Healer!" replied Nathanos, getting back up and ran towards the Farstrider position at Silvermoon' gate.
"...inside!" said the ranger, pointing inside the city were several wounded and civilians were held.
"Thank you!" replied Nathanos, running into Silvermoon carrying the injured Sylvanas. "Healer!"
"Over here!" yelled an old elf priest - High Priest Vandellor; helping the other wounded.
"We got betrayed..." said Nathanos, depositing Sylvanas infront of Vandellor, who seemed shocked to find Sylvanas here.
"My dear! Is she alive?" asked Liadrin, appearing next to him, crouching over Sylvanas.
"Gut-wound...nasty...but she'll live..." replied the High Priest.
"Betrayed..."
"What?" asked Vandellor, not hearing due to his age.
"Dar'Khan Drathir!" said Sylvanas, in a hoarse whisper into the old' priest ear. "Betrayed us! Warn Belo'vir!"
"...watch over her Liadrin. I'll be right back," said Vandellor, rising up.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes child," he replied, before heading to find his old friend, Grand Magister Belo'vir and warn him of the danger.
"Nath..." muttered Sylvanas, still feeling dizzy.
"Yes?" asked Nathanos, kneeling towards her.
"Go...kill them," replied Sylvanas, handing Nathanos her Sunstrider Longbow.
"I...I can't accep-"
"I want it back later..." coughed Sylvanas badly, but had a slight grin on her face nonetheless. "...but for now. Show 'em, what a human ranger can do!"
"I won't let you down!" replied Nathanos approvingly.
"...you never had," said Sylvanas, before Nathanos left to fight the undead. "...how bad is Liadrin?"
"It'll take awhile..." replied Liadrin, mending her wound. "...plus you'll be in no condition to fight for atleast two hours..."
'...bloody magister...' cursed Sylvanas at Dar'Khan. She hate being helpless or dependant on someone - especially at a time like this, when she HAD to be out there fighting; yet now it was all about hoping...and praying for a miracle.
XXX
Arthas was making headway following the Farstrider through the forest, true enough it was hard to navigate in there with all the trees and such...if not for a large and destructively cleared path for them. Filling them, besides the dead trees were several dead archers and a dozen of undead corpses - the undead were in a hurry, and that didn't sound good either way.
Luckily a clearing soon came, which Lor'themar nodded would be the location of the Second Silvermoon Gate and their second encampement - however their hope was soon shattered, as anything that resembled something elven was burned or destroyed. Even Lor'themar being shocked at sight.
"Nononono! All dead!" cursed Lor'themar, as he walked down to the battlefield below. Many dead and many still freshly killed - it was too unreal. "How could this happen?!"
"The undead. I told you the-"
"They couldn't have been so quick!" snapped Lor'themar at Arthas. "Even an army could take hours, getting through! We do have defenses set up! That would hold them back...unless, unless, un-"
"Unless you were betrayed," replied Lord Commander Saidan Dathoran.
"That's impossible. Isn't it?" thought Lor'themar, before heading towards Sylvanas' base, Arthas and his men following him. When they arrived, their fears were confirmed - the base was ablaze with fresh footmarks as well.
"My dear..." muttered Arthas, looking around: the base was still burning and bodies littered them. He was glimpsing everywhere, hoping to find...or not find Sylvanas' body among them.
Then he spotted a necklace lying on the ground. Picking it up, he saw it was a blue engraved sapphire locket. Lor'themar looking shocked at it as well.
"That belongs to the Ranger-General," he said, causing Arthas' anger to rise up. If they dared.
"We ride," said Arthas, plain and simply, mounting back onto his horse.
"Straight forward, follow the blighted path. It'll lead directly to Silvermoon," replied Lor'themar, pointing at beyond the destroyed second gate. "I'll try to find, if anybody survived this. Shorel'aran and good luck."
"To you as well," said Arthas, leading his army through the gate and hoping they weren't too late.
XXX
"Evacuate! Hurry!" urged Magister Rommath, as several women and children were evacuated via portal to the mage-city of Dalaran. It was far away, yet its nexus energies would make sure that the civilians would get there and not end up anywhere else or worse.
It had gotten worse real fast, as strong as the elves were they couldn't stand against two armies at the same time - trolls were difficult upfront, but undead were a nightmare. Now Grand Magister Belo'vir had ordered him and the rest of the elven magi to create portals to one place: for Dalaran and the civilians and the wounded. He was sadly not staying, Belo'vir left the care and safety of the refugees in his hands - Rommath could be holding onto the last remnants of the high elven race.
"Move them. Quickly!" added High Priest Vandellor as well, directing the evacuating of some the worser and heavily injured - they couldn't help, but maybe in the future.
"Is that all?" asked Sylvanas, coming over to Vandellor.
"Of the city..." he sighed, so many were sentenced to death and they couldn't help them. "Your injured as well."
"No way! Just a wound, I can fight!" replied Sylvanas, drawing her two daggers. "This is my duty! And I will die, trying to complete it."
"We don't have much time," said Belo'vir, arriving at their location as the city was seconds away from being breached.
"That's the last of them," spoke Vandellor, as the Rommath left with the last child and wounded.
"Good..." muttered Belo'vir, before his eyes glowed brighter and everybody in Silvermoon was slowly teleported to Quel'Danas, except them two - who held back the tide while the magic worked, Vandellor staying behind with his friend.
"Nono!" cried Liadrin, seeing her adoptive father Vandellor fight against the endless undead...and die. Along with Belo'vir - why didn't they run?
"So this it. The end..." said Sylvanas, as she saw the undead pass through swiftly. The large body of water between them and the undead didn't seem much either - they would get here and try to claim the Sunwell.
"So it will be..." spoke King Anasterian, appearing suddenly near them, dressed in some old regal armor with a magi staff in one hand and Felo'melorn in the other. "...they come?"
"Yes - one of our betrayed us to them. Magister Drathir - all our magical defenses were useless," replied Sylvanas leaning on Nathanos. "Belo'vir held back, while he teleported the rest here."
Anasterian could see that there weren't many left here - barely half of Silvermoon's forces, and it likely wouldn't be enough.
"If this be our final day...then I stand with you," said Anasterian, cursing at his inner guilt and pride at letting this happen. "I have ruled...long enough. IF they want the Sunwell...then they'll have to pay a blood tithe...a long one, that will never be satisfied! Anar'alah belore!"
"Anar'alah belore!" replied the remaining elves, this would be their last stand. Sylvanas realizing that as well, standing besides Nathanos and Liadrin - one once a simple hunter, now a ranger that Sylvanas as a mentor could be proud; the second a priestess who lost her family, and now a person almost like a father to her, yet still had golden heart as shining as the Light and at the front stood King Anasterian Sunstrider; full of rage and anger, some of them at himself - too late had come the news of this horrible fate, too late to change anything...yet not too late to die fighting.
"Cometh you mindless filths! We're waiting!" taunted Anasterian at the undead over the body of water at Silvermoon, who no doubt heard him. One creature appeared, a red winged-demon cursed Anasterian, as the water between them started to freeze - creating an ice bridge to Quel'Danas. 'So be it!'
"Never imagined myself dying here..." said Nathanos, readying the Sunstrider Longbow. "...Lordaeron maybe, not Quel'Thalas."
"I never expected either..." replied Sylvanas, feeling a slight regret in her heart - for her homeland...and...Arthas. "Liadrin, is it too late to ask for the Light?"
"I'm doubting. One last time..." said Liadrin, who was almost teary-eyed and broken down with everything that has happened. "By the grace that shines in our hearts I ask for aid...that...would help us vanquish these creatures...our homes and our lives have been broken...our hope fading...oh for please HELP US!"
"Pathetic..." spoke Tichondrius, arriving on the shores of Quel'Danas with the Scourge and Amani. "...nothing can save you now..."
The remaining elves got ready for a last stand, as the dreadlord merely taunted them - but for Liadrin it was enough to make the young priestess cry and shake her to the core, and to her faith in the Light...until she heard it - a sound in the wind, a battle-horn being blown...and so did the rest.
'Impossible!' thought Sylvanas, looking beyond Silvermoon and saw a lone armored figure on a horse, blowing a horn - it was the battle-cry of Lordaeron. Then the figure charged forward...followed by an army behind him - Lordaeron' forces, over a thousand strong. "Blessed ancestors!"
"By the Sunwell..." said Liadrin, her mood turned, the Light had answered their plea. "...the Light has answered us!"
"Fools! Get ready!" cursed Tichondrius - seeing Lordaeron' army charge at them, now they were between two armies.
"For Lordaeron! Drive these foul abominations back to the abyss!" yelled Arthas, charging first at the army of trolls and undead.
"For Lordaeron!"
"For King Terenas!" yelled Arthas again, riding fast through Silvermoon and closing in.
"For King Terenas!"
"FOR THE ALLIANCE!" roared Arthas, over the field as his armor and Athe'mar glowed in a holy aura.
Then they fell on the undead - hooves crashing and bones breaking, as Lordaeron lances pierced the trolls and undead in their way. Arthas swinging his blade with an unrelenting fervor, cutting a path right and left as enemies fell down each time his holy blade hit. Falric riding close as his own sword was covered in ichor and troll blood, each swing sending an enemy reeling. Tirion feeling the might and rush of the Light flow again, as his own maul send an abomination reeling with Saidan Dathoran' own blow sending the abomination to the ground; finished by General Abbendis' lance killing the downed abomination. A good quarter was killed in the rush, as Lordaeron' army broke through, riding directly at the elven army.
"Paladins! Dis-mount!" yelled Arthas, jumping down infront of King Anasterian with a hundred paladins following - Lordaeron' knights spliting and riding off to the sides, turning directly at the enemy. "Stand with me, brothers and sisters of the Light! Rise up! Rise up and send these foul monsters back the abyss! FOR THE LIGHT!"
"FOR THE LIGHT!" replied the voices of human and elf alike, Sylvanas included who stood ready, despite her wound.
"CHARGE!" roared Arthas charging forward, paladins on his side, elves behind him and knights charging at the enemies flanks - the entire emboldened army charging hard at the suprised Amani and Scourge...and broke through them.
Blades, lances, swords and daggers hit, as their combined might attacked the enemy. Claw and flesh were broken against hard steel, axes and spears useless against the Light. Arthas cleaving a path of troll and undead alike, as Athe'mar sliced through them like butter. Sylvanas fought nearby both getting a glimpse of the other, making eye-contact for a split second before returning to fight with renewed strength. Arthas being at the forefront, glowing brighter than the shining sun, as wave after wave of undead fell to the might of the Light. Tirion and Saidan fighting side-by-side despite not liking each other minutes ago, yet the Light kept them both strong with neither man willing to abandon the other in this dire moment. Commander Falric and General Abbendis riding on horseback and cleaving down any foe who got in their way. Through it all King Anasterian wasn't idle either, a chance was given to his people and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice as his own enemies fell to his magic and Felo'melorn - then he caught side of the demon and cut a path to him.
"Foul demon!" roared Anasterian, charging at Tichondrius. Blasting him with fire and swinging his runeblade at the Nathrezim.
"Weak fool!" roared back Tichondrius, fighting in an equal rage, as claw struck metal and blade met armoring.
Nearby Rivendare was fighting for his own life, when Kel'thuzad' spirit appeared.
"Get going!"
"What are you talking about?!" asked Rivendare, cutting down his attacker.
"Sunwell! Go! Before it's too late!" urged Kel'thuzad and his spirit disappeared again.
"If you say so..." replied Rivendare, slipping out of the battle and heading towards the Sunwell, cutting down any elf or human on his way. Yet someone saw through his idea, one dark magister and followed him.
Back in the battlefield, the trolls were being cut down by the combined Lordaeron-Quel'Thalasian army, undead crumbling against the might of the paladins. But there were slight problems for the defenders as well - General Abbendis had gotten lost through the fighting with Falric riding through the enemy alone; King Anasterian as well having difficulty against the dreadlord Tichondrius.
"Weak, insulent!" roared Tichondrius, sending the elven High King reeling.
"You can't win demon!" replied a bloodied Anasterian, managing to hold his own against the dreadlord.
"I am no demon!" roared Tichondrius, kicking Anasterian onto the ground. "I am leader of Nathrezim!"
Tichondrius then struck, wanting to execute the old high elf...yet was stopped by a young priestess, Liadrin.
"Back away filth!" yelled Liadrin, holding her staff high.
"Child!" cursed Tichondrius, blasting Liadrin with red lightning...only for it to meet a holy blade that blocked it.
"Dreadlord!" spat Arthas, holding strong against the dreadlord' magic and send it back at him. "Get him out of here!"
Liadrin merely nodded and dragged the wounded Anasterian away from the battle, leaving Arthas with Tichondrius.
"You'll pay for that, human!" said Tichondrius, getting back up.
"Try me!" replied Arthas, lifting his blade up.
"I'll make yo-AGH!" choked Tichondrius, getting pierced by Athe'mar swiftly. Then Arthas pulled back and cleaved off the dreadlord' head in holy might.
"Is talking all you demons do?" taunted Arthas, as the dead dreadlord' body impacted the ground and shocking the Scourge at the suddeness. A funny sight for Arthas to see the dead being scared.
"FLEE!" yelled a nearby necromancer, turning around and running away, other necromancers and a few trolls following.
"No! Ya cowards!" roared Zul'jin in anger. The Amani were so close, the Second Silvermoon Gate had fallen, the elven armies had fallen, even Silvermoon fell to them and now they were fleeing with victory so close...vengeance almost tasteable.
"Troll!" cursed someone, striking at Zul'jin and it was Sylvanas. The young Ranger-General easily cutting several wounds on the troll chieftain with her daggers and dodging the clumsy troll' attacks with her agile form.
"Mah vengeance vant be denied!" roared Zul'jin, swinging his axe at Sylvanas.
"Sorry to disappoint you..." smirked Sylvanas, as she locked the troll' weapon down.
"..but you already lost!" added Nathanos, two flaming arrows nocked and released, hitting the troll in the neck and chest, causing horrendous pain for Zul'jin.
"...and...you...messed with the wrong elf..." said Sylvanas, killing off Zul'jin. "...and human..."
Sylvanas smiled at the turned battle - trolls were fleeing back to Zul'Aman and fast; undead were being easily cut down without the dreadlord leading them. Arthas was still easily spotable on the battlefield, his armor lining glowing in holy might as he cut through the remaining brain-dead undead who were too stupid to flee.
'Wait, Lordaeron - Rivendare!' thought Sylvanas shocked, giving the battlefield a quick scan for a human lord/knight. Easier said than done, as many a dead knight layed on the battlefield. Yet one person stuck out - Drathir, and he was heading for the Sunwell, with King Anasterian following. "ARTHAS!"
"Sylvanas?" asked Arthas confused, hearing his name being shouted until he saw Sylvanas running at her. "I-"
"I need your help! Fast!" replied Sylvanas, skipping the happy reunion.
"Lord Saidan! Take the paladins and finish this battle!"
"At once!" replied the white-haired paladin.
"Where do you need me?"
XXX
Rivendare smashed through the final magical defense guarding the elves precious and mysterious source of power, the Sunwell. Even Rivendare could feel the magic emmanating from it - so much power, and the elves kept it to themselves. Not anymore, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a large vial that he filled with the magical waters. One down, five to go.
"What are you doing?" asked Dar'Khan, reaching the Sunwell and saw Rivendare near it.
"Collecting my 'artifact'!" replied Rivendare, drawing his runeblade and pointing it at Dar'Khan. "Or what did you expect?"
"You liar!" cursed Dar'Khan, blasting fire at the death knight.
"Me?" taunted Rivendare, freezing the fireball in mid-air. "Look whose talking elf! What you have done and what you have used to do it. What did you think I was after - a few trinkets or an old staff? I could've bargained that easily from you. Yet you, a mighty 'magister' was too blind or stupid to see the true intention of my conquest...and I thought you elves were wise?"
"Burn human!" yelled Dar'Khan, blasting Rivendare with arcane magic which he blocked with a greenish magic-shell.
"Don't make me laugh!" taunted Rivendare, shocking the prideful magister but that made Dar'Khan only angrier. Then he heard other footsteps approach - the elven king.
'Flee Rivendare! The Lich King still needs you! Don't question, just do it! Now come!'
'If you say so,' thought Rivendare at Kel'thuzad' order. Hopefully one vial was enough, as for the rest - he swung his runeblade and destroyed the spire of the Sunwell; causing Dar'Khan to rage-out in despair and fury.
"Need to go! Have fun dying!" laughed Rivendare, as he teleported away in a green flash and the structure of the Sunwell collapsed, the once magical waters flowing onto the ground.
"NO! You fool!" heard Dar'Khan coming from Anasterian, their High King.
"You're too fool!" lashed back Dar'Khan, channeling the magical aura of the Sunwell through him, that he had used for centuries for Silvermoon' benefit, not anymore as he literally created a sea of fire to kill Anasterian. "Sitting on your throne! Doing nothing and letting real elves suffer for their works! You don't deserve to be King!"
"You...betrayed us," coughed Anasterian, weak from the battle before, as he leaned on his staff and blade. "Let them here...and to our sacred place! You don't deserve to be called a magister...or an elf."
"You'll burn for that!" replied Dar'Khan, ready to deliver the killing blow.
"Not this time Dar'Khan!" yelled Sylvanas, arriving with Liadrin and Arthas. Then she as well saw the Sunwell' structure destroyed and fell into a hysteria as well. "You...bastard! Arrogant! Foolish, akh'yah!"
"What did you call me!" asked Dar'Khan in anger, both suprised and furious at her used word.
"Akh'yah!" spat Sylvanas, meaning 'magic-cursed or magic-less being' in elven, an insult against an elf and an ultimate insult against a mage.
"Die!" roared Dar'Khan, enveloping them in fire with hatred and the Sunwell fueling his might - yet they were unharmed, thanks to Arthas' holy-shielding.
"You're a power-hungry madman Dar'Khan," spoke Arthas, lifting up Athe'mar in one-hand and Felo'melorn in the other. "...and you hurt Sylvanas. By the Light, you must be brought to justice!"
"Just try human!" replied Dar'Khan, blasting Arthas with magic every second. Yet Arthas simple blocked, shielded and sliced apart Dar'Khan' magical attacks with either sword. "Why won't you die?!"
"I'm a paladin, who is protected by the Light.." said Arthas, smashing through Dar'Khan' magical-shield with Felo'melorn and slicing through his neck with Athe'mar, sending Dar'Khan reeling with a bleeding throat. "...but that was for Sylvanas, you son of a bitch."
"I-gh...won't...all-ow it!" coughed Dar'Khan, holding his bleeding neck - utilizing nercomancy learned from the dreaded Baron, as he tried to keep himself from dying. Yet that was the wrong magic to use, as he tried to drain the energies of the Sunwell itself yet still remained wounded and bleeding, while the Sunwell' energies started to gather up too fast.
"It's going to implode!" screamed Liadrin, as the energies gathered and the Sunwell did imploded before her very eyes - the gathered energy-wave burning Dar'Khan alive, luckily Arthas managed to shield them up and save them from a similar fate. But the shrine that held the Sunwell around them came crashing down, the ancient engraved pillars crumbled and the once eternal green grass was burned to a sickly brownish in a circle around them. Then the energy-wave dissapated in a flash, leaving them standing at epicenter.
"That's it..." cried Liadrin, falling to her knees in despair. "...it's over."
"No...it can't be..." coughed Anasterian, his body dying from the injuries at the hands of Dar'Khan. But he saw the destroyed Sunwell as well. "...I failed...all of you..."
"No! I did - I couldn't stop it. I don't deserve to be a Windrunner," sobbed Sylvanas as well at the sight.
Everybody was saddened at what had happened except for Arthas who understood that the elves had lost something very precious to them, as he edged closer to the once mystic well that had collapsed. Nothing could be lost forever, as he lifted some rubble away from the place - and there, at the bottom stood a small spring, its waters still flowing.
"Sylvanas. Come over here!" urged Arthas, at what he found yet the ranger was too lost in her sorrow to move. So he did the opposite, came up to her and carried the non-resisting elf to the small spring. "Look!"
"No..."
"Yes," added Arthas, still holding her. She was still was crying, yet it turned into happy crying then. "...it remains."
"The Sunwell still remains!" cried out Sylvanas, hugging her savior.
"It does?!" asked Liadrin, going to check herself and found a small spring - it wasn't much, but it was still hope. "By the Light. Thank you!"
"There is still hope?" asked the voice of Anasterian, now weaker.
"Yes, King Anasterian. Some of the Sunwell survived!" replied Liadrin, coming back over to him and trying to heal his wounds. "We need to get you aid fast!"
"Don't. My time has cometh, and I feel it calling..."
"B-but! We can't do this without our King!" said Liadrin, shocked at Anasterian' statement.
"You have been doing this for three thousand years...I have been ruling for too long...but you won't be alone...Kael'thas will lead you..."
"Anasterian! This is no time to play martyr!" cursed Sylvanas, realizing his last wish.
"No...but the high elves need a new way and new leader...and I can't do that...not anymore...find Kael'thas...he is the new leader of Quel'Thalas...don't let him follow my mistakes...tell him...I'm sorry..." said Anasterian, before the life left the eyes of the ancient High King of Quel'Thalas.
"He's dead..." muttered Liadrin, crying a bit over the death of their High King.
"...but not you, or your race, or your homeland," replied Arthas, offering a hand to the priestess, which she accepted. "A new day will arrive, one filled with hope - if the darkness be too much, then I'll shine the Light to your salvation. I owe one of you that."
"You don't have do. You were our salvation," replied Sylvanas, looking upon the setting sun - the Battle for Silvermoon was over, now it was time to finish the Battle for Quel'Thalas...yet luckily...she wouldn't do this alone.
XXX
A/N: The battle has ended, now its time to pick up the pieces...and continue.
Please review.