The sounds of the deep forest echoed in Marcail's ears. Rustling leaves as a breeze blew through the trees, water running in the distance, frogs croaking, the occasional bird chirping, the sound of a woodpecker on bark; it all sounded unbridled and natural. She rolled over in the soft linen sheets and breathed in deep. She did not want to leave the comfort of the featherbed she was resting on. She curled up with a pillow, hugging it close to her body and nestled her head deeper into the softness. No, she was not getting out of this bed, even for a tornado.
It had been a while since she had woken up so peacefully. She was still extremely groggy, and remembered how awful trying to sleep had been. First of all, her heart and mind would not stop racing. She tried to tell herself a story that would keep her from thinking of Galen. It hadn't really worked, and she had been at it until the first trickle of light came in through the window. When sleep had alluded her at last, she was so relieved that it had been a dreamless sleep, instead of Kael'Thas coming to her, or worse, Galen.
The sound of a knock at the door made her eyes fly open.
"Marcail?" She heard Lavena's voice. "I just brought you some food. You slept well through breakfast and we have all just finished our lunch."
"Oh, please come in," her voice rasped as the first few words spoken since her deep sleep roughly came from her throat. She hadn't meant to sleep through half the day.
The door opened, and Lavena entered, wearing a sage green dress, with long, flowing sleeves that reached her knees. It had been tailored with an empire waist, with a wide, white ribbon wrapped under her breast. She carried another tray of food, as she glided through the doorway, closing it behind her and coming to the bed. The breeze picked up the growing wisteria, dangling on the canopy of her bed and brought a whiff of the flowers to her nose. It wasn't as strong as when she first arrived last night. Perhaps it was the smell of the warm, toasted sandwich that was playing to her senses more, as her stomach growled with hunger.
"I'm glad I came," a light laugh escaped the priestess. "It seems you could use some nourishment." She placed the tray on the nightstand beside the bed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Marcail rose into a seated position as she reached for the plate.
"Thank you," the mage said, as she put the plate in her lap and picked up the bread. "Ciabatta bread? Wow, did you make this yourself?" She was impressed as she picked at the crust and it crackled in response.
"Actually, Isla baked the bread this morning. She's quite the chef, she gets hold of such amazing ingredients from around the world and brings them here. She's helping make the food for the festival that's coming up in a few days." Marcail nodded in response, a little anxiety pricked at her with the thought of being surrounded by tons of night elves, with no magic to defend herself with and no escape. She took a generous bite into the sandwich, and was rewarded with the savory flavor of roasted boar, spinach leaves, tomatoes, and Stormwind brie. Her eyes lit up as she locked eyes with the priestess. Lavena just smiled back.
"I know, it's good, isn't it? For something so simple, you wouldn't expect it to be that good. But Isla makes sure everything is fresh. She harvests the plants from her garden that's a little ways into the forest. She's also sure to bake bread every morning."
"When does she get the time to train? I mean, feeding such a large family must take a lot of work for just one person."
"She likes to get up early and stay busy, and when she's here she volunteers to cook all the meals. But we're usually not all together like this; we all have our work that takes us away from home." Lavena cocked her head to the side. "How do you normally get your meals at home? Can you cook?"
"No," Marcail shrugged. When the priestess looked confused, she elaborated. "My mother can cook, but she doesn't like to do it all the time. We have servants and a regular cook in my home that make our meals. When I'm not home, I mostly just eat in taverns and inns, and buy food that I can preserve on the road when I'm far away from civilization."
"Would you like to learn?" The priestess asked. Marcail's face grew white.
"Oh no. That's a bad idea. Every time I have been in the kitchen, I set things on fire or I put too much salt in something, it's just horrible. Our family cook tried to teach me, but she gave up after a while. She declared me a catastrophe in the kitchen, and said the closest she would let me come to cooking again would be to wash dishes." The priestess laughed at the tale, and Marcail responded with a dark look. "Don't laugh. I tried my hardest."
"Forgive me," Lavena tried to straighten her face, "but it is actually a funny story." The priestess giggled again, and quickly covered her mouth. Marcail loosened her shoulders and relaxed a little more.
"I suppose it is," she sighed, and took another bite of her sandwich.
"Come now, don't be all glum because of that. If it really bothers you that much, then you should change it. Work hard in the kitchen because it doesn't come as easily to you as it does with others. When you accomplish it, you will be more rewarded because of how hard you worked. But don't just sit here wallowing." The white-haired priestess replied. The mage chewed and reflected on the advice. When she swallowed, she spoke.
"I know you are right," she sighed. "But I honestly do not wish to learn."
"That's fine."
"I would, however, like to continue tailoring with you."
"We can do that." She nodded. Lavena turned her head and gazed beyond the window, to the forest. "I also came up here to see if you were okay. Late last night, you seemed upset and it looked like my brother was the cause of it." Marcail accidentally bit the inside of her cheek, hard. She reached for the cloth napkin on the table and quickly covered her mouth as the metallic taste of her blood intruded her mouth.
"I just wanted you to know that my father and I do not wish harm on you." Lavena's face turned back to her. Marcail swallowed the rest of her bloody food and tried to speak quickly.
"Don't worry," she mustered up all her reassurance, "I am fine."
"Are you?" Lavena asked again, tilting her head with a pained expression. "I'm worried about you, and I want you to know you can be open with me."
Don't trust them. A familiar male voice echoed in her mind.
"I understand, Lavena, but I will be fine." She repeated herself, and saw the knowing hurt flash quickly in Lavena's eyes.
"If you insist," the priestess rose, and started for the door. When she opened it and was just about to leave, she turned around and met the mage's eyes once again. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it.
"If you need anything just let me know." Lavena said, and with that she nodded and closed the door behind her.
.
Galen flexed his fist, opening and closing his main sword hand. He sat at his desk in his father's study while he was brainstorming the letters he should write to his party members. It had been a little over a week since they disappeared, and they needed an explanation. The twin dwarves were probably anxious for their payments as well. But he was still hesitant to send any word to his friends. Would they understand his actions? If Marcail had been left alone with someone else, they would have killed her on the spot. He also didn't leave on such good terms with Darrick. Galen leaned back in the chair, sighing deeply and he brought a palm to cover his closed eyes.
At the very least he should tell them that he was safe. With that thought, Galen took out a few pieces of parchment and took a quill from the inkwell. He jotted down explaining he was in a safe place, but couldn't say anything more for fear of his letters reaching the wrong hands. He explained that their plan was still in effect, and to be patient. He said they would all know where to find him if they really needed him. He left a cryptic message of where he really was, figuring that Darrick would find him. He folded up his letters and thought of sending an extra message asking about Sarah reversing the spell, but he shrugged it off. He could do that later. He started walking toward the enchanted mailbox when he ran into Lavena.
"Pardon me, Brother," she said politely, and started to walk past him when Galen touched her arm.
"Where did you just come from?" He asked, his brows lowering.
"I brought Marcail some lunch, I figured she would be hungry." She squinted her eyes in confusion. However, Galen knew that look all too well. She wasn't confused at all, she was searching for answers to confirm her suspicions. "I also asked her what transpired last night."
"What did she say?" He asked, nonchalantly.
"I don't know," she raised an eyebrow, "what do you think she said?"
"I'm not interested in your games," he waved his hand to dismiss her, as if she were one of his trained soldiers. He turned his back and started toward the front door.
"Whatever game you are playing, I think it would be wise for you to stop." She suggested.
"I didn't ask for your opinion, Lavena," he growled, as he jerked open the front door, and slammed it behind him. The priestess sighed after him, rolling her eyes.
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"Darrick! I must speak with you!" Sarah cried, as she burst into the library of the Cathedral in Stormwind. Knowing Darrick regularly advised novice paladins there, she sought him out as soon as she received her letter from Galen. She held it high above her head, triumphantly, as multiple paladins looked up from their studies to stare at her. Most of them glared at her, from either being interrupted or from her demonic presence, she didn't know or care. Darrick's attention immediately switched from the scrawny emerging adult in mail armor to the warlock in amethyst robes, tailored to accentuate the swell of her large breasts. Darrick sharply inhaled at the sight as his blood ran hot.
"Excuse me, please." He said to the boy, as he quickly met her and whisked Sarah out of the library and out of the Cathedral.
"Embarrassed to be seen with me? Or do you think I'll burst into flames from being on holy ground?" She mocked him, as he turned to face her on the steps.
"You can't go bursting into the halls of the Cathedral, shouting like a madwoman when there are lessons being taught." He chided her, as he tried to pull her down the steps to follow him.
"This is important, though. We need to speak with Galen, and now we might have a clue as to where he is." She snapped, jerking her arm from the paladin.
"Hush, Sarah!" His brown eyes desperately trying to keep her from telling the whole city of their operations. He lowered his voice and stepped back up the stairs so they were level with each other. He stared back into her blue eyes and Sarah's mouth snapped shut. She had never seen Darrick look at her in such a way, with such a dire need for her to comply with his words. Sarah never guessed that the paladin even harbored intense emotions, he always seemed so calm and indifferent about his surroundings. Now, it was like she was looking into a stranger's dire and intense gaze. She suddenly found her eyes fastening on his lips, taking in their shape and compared it to most other men's lips she had kissed before.
"Sarah?" He asked, as her eyes snapped back to meet his. "Are you listening to anything I'm saying?"
"I'm sorry, no," she admitted. The paladin sighed, checking their surroundings.
"Let's just go to my quarters," he gritted, turning abruptly, "we can discuss our next move."
"Are women even allowed in there?" The warlock couldn't help but ask. She was half looking to get a rise out of him, and the other half actually wondered if this were true. A frustrated scoff came from him.
"Yes, they are."
"I thought you were all sworn to chastity or whatever," she shrugged, elongating her strides to catch up with him. He glanced over at her, before looking ahead of him.
"After a certain period of time, we are allowed to pursue courtship." He explained roughly. "But that is unimportant. Let's make haste, I feel like someone is watching us."
.
A cloaked figure in the shadows of the late afternoon secured the black cloth around it's face, as it watched Darrick and Sarah's exchange on the Cathedral steps. When they finally started walking from the steps, a deep voice bellowed.
"Hey! You! Come out of there!" A Stormwind guard marched over to the dark alleyway, drawing his sword. The cloaked figure quickly withdrew a poisoned knife, and with deft accuracy, threw it, landing right in the guard's throat as he was about to enter they alley. The guard collapsed instantly, and let out a choking breath, reaching toward the alleyway. Then he slumped over, dead. The figure's gloved black hand emerged into the light, grabbed hold of the guard's arm, and dragged his corpse into the alley as the darkness swallowed them up.
.
Darrick took Sarah into the barracks he lived in. It looked almost like an inn, but holy sigils and candles decorated every corner, warding off any evil spirits. She felt her hair rise on the back of her neck, as a trickle of fear shimmied down her spine. She was not welcome here, and she could hear the whispers of her minions, begging their master to leave. Still, she followed in Darrick's footsteps as they climbed the stairs up to Darrick's dormitory. They walked down a hallway, and then he searched his pockets for his keys. Sarah watched as he sorted through the keyring until he found the right one. He turned it in the keyhole, and the familiar click of the latch oddly soothed him. Usually, he wasn't this on edge. He opened the door and held it open for Sarah.
"Thank you," she managed, and stepped in over the threshold. Taking a look inside, Darrick had a decently sized room. She expected a dormitory-like setting, but he had room for a queen bed. An impressive bookshelf stood on the farthest wall, and a few trunks were neatly stacked beside it. Her eyes settled on writing desk extended from the right wall with it's back toward the door, so when someone entered his room or walked by his doorway, he only had to glance up from his desktop to see them. Sarah fluttered into the room, and hopped on the bed, just as the paladin closed the door.
"Wow," she said, bouncing in her seat, testing the mattress. Her large breasts swayed with the movement. "You have a much softer and nicer bed than I have. I thought you paladins were supposed to be tough." She grinned slyly at him. Darrick frowned, as he watched her continue to fidget.
"We didn't come here to test my mattress," he felt his body flush in heat with his words. He wanted to curse himself for even bringing her here, for as soon as he had mentioned going to his quarters, a fire breathed into him like he hadn't had before.
The warlock stopped her bouncing to see that he was blushing. Blushing! Sarah wanted to laugh, because the whole situation was absurd. Why was he embarrassed? He shouldn't care about what a young warlock thought. Especially her.
"No, we didn't." She shrugged, but a smile formed on her lips. "I wanted to talk about Galen."
Screw Galen! His lusts urged him. Just lay back and I'll be the only man you'll ever think about. "I'm listening." He replied with all the poise he could bring out for the moment. Light, this was infuriating! Shame replaced embarrassment, as he went to his desk and reached in one of the drawers.
"Galen sent me a letter," she began again, "Marcail was responsible for the deaths in Ironforge, and as we thought, they are in Kalimdor." She watched as the paladin removed a brown glass bottle and yanked the cork from it. "They must be at his home estate, I can't think of anywhere safer for him to be. With his sisters always popping in and out of that house, just a few of them can handle any incidents. What really troubles me is how she was able to use her magic with it bound to that necklace." She watched as the paladin took a long drink from the dark bottle. "I've scoured over grimores, spoken to some of the most powerful warlocks in Stormwind, but I still can't find an answer for that."
"Light, Sarah, I hope you didn't attract any attention." He glared.
"No, I didn't. Warlocks love dangerous and forbidden spells, and the magisters perform spells like mine, frequently. No one would notice a student asking for help on an illegal spell." She explained. Shame hit the paladin again as he was hit with the remembrance of how awful the demonic path can be.
"Can you reverse the spell?"
"Almost," she said, and watched as the paladin took another long drink. "I'm getting closer to the answer, though. Have you found anything?" He put the cork back on the brown bottle and swallowed the remaining liquid.
"All of my solutions aren't pretty for either one of you two. She might survive them, but you definitely won't." He answered, leaning up against the wall. He crossed one arm over his chest and brought a hand to his growing mustache and beard. "I really hope you find something because I'm running out of ideas."
"I'm working on it. As soon as I have it, I'm going to Teldrassil." She explained. "I don't know how Gorim and Thorim are holding up, they probably want to kill her even more now."
"Do they know where he took the blood elf?"
"I don't think so, but he didn't mention anything about them in his letter. Did you get one?"
"Just a very short one. He just said that everything is fine and he would contact me again."
"Hmm," Sarah furrowed her brows. "Well, I'll write to him and say that we're working together."
"Are we?" Darrick asked, with a hint of suggestion behind his voice. Sarah was taken aback, as she felt the boldness in his statement. She tilted her head and almost wanted to ask, but then shook her head and figured she was just imagining things.
"I think so. Anyway, I could use your help on tracking down a holy book." She returned back to business. "A grimoire I think can fix our problem references it frequently. It's called Deeper Light-Binding Spells and Blessings, and I think it's in the Royal Library."
"Can't you retrieve it?" He asked.
"It would look less suspicious if a paladin were borrowing such a book," she gave him a cynical look. "Honestly, haven't you ever participated in espionage before?" Darrick rolled his eyes and reached for the bottle on his desk to take another drink.
"What is that you keep drinking? You're a paladin, you don't need health potions."
"It's not a health potion," he grunted, before tilting the bottle back.
"Are you drinking in your holy dormitory?" Her jaw dropped. She had never seen Darrick act like this before. "That's got to be against the rules."
"For your information, it's not against the rules. You don't know a paladin's code, why do you keep bringing it up?"
"Because I've never seen you act like this before." She stared back at him, and he shrugged.
"Maybe you haven't been around me enough to know what I'm really like." He locked on her eyes, brows furrowed and teeth grinding. She flinched, surprised that he was so tense with her. She gathered up her pride and reminded him what he was really like.
"I know exactly what you're like. Ever since I first met you, you were so stuck up and marinated in your own pride and arrogance. You had your head so far up your ass that when you first met me, you refused to shake my hand or even be in the same room with me."
"That's not true."
"It is true! You were so bound by your paladin's oath that you had no interest in even getting to know a person like me."
"I don't trust a lot of people when I first meet them," he said in defense.
"That's a lie. I watched you with Marcail." She stood up and put her hands on her hips. "You trusted a blood elf more over a member of your faction, even your own race!"
"If I offended you, Sarah, I do apologize," Darrick rushed and closed the space between him. He placed a plated hand on her shoulder, and realized there was actual hurt in her eyes. "I never meant anything personal. When you started working with Galen, I was fresh out of the academy. The prejudices of my superiors were instilled into me. Paladins are trained to rid Azeroth of dark magic and the undead, and I bought into everything that a naïve paladin would, just to try and become stronger."
"I know that," she huffed, looking at the floor. "I just didn't think that all paladins would treat me with disdain. Especially ones that I would have to work with so closely."
"I don't think that way anymore," he offered a smile. "I think you are a remarkable person, Sarah." She tilted her head up to his face, and his hand drifted cradle the back of her neck. His warm brown eyes glittered back at her and she found her gaze drifting down to his lips for the second time that day.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" She caught her breath.
"Because you have so much spirit. You're an excellent fighter, and you fight for good. Even if your methods aren't what I believe in, you have done good things for this world." He felt himself lean his neck to lower himself a little bit to her lips. She hesitated in his arms, but he felt her hands move from his chest up to his shoulders. Then she tilted her head up to receive his kiss. Her heart was pounding as the thought of carnal acts flashed through her mind. She had never felt a paladin's touch before, and part of her was racing with excitement to find out what Darrick would feel like.
Just before their lips were about to graze each other, she smelled the liquor on his breath. It wasn't a lot to overpower her, like a lover's romp at a tavern, but it was strong enough to strike her with doubt. She jerked back and pushed him away from her. Darrick's eyes fluttered open with confusion.
"You know, warlocks aren't all trollops. Despite what you may have heard."
"What?" Darrick asked softly, still caught in her smell and softeness.
"I don't think you are clear enough in the head to realize what you are doing," she explained, pulling herself from his embrace. "I do not go sleep around with random men, and I will not be your drunken plaything."
"Drunken plaything? Sarah, it isn't like that at all."
"Is it? I'm not going to make this thing awkward, because when we are on the battlefield, I want to make sure the person at my back isn't thinking of just letting a sword slip so you can be rid of a one-night mistake."
"No," Darrick tried to slow her down, but she wasn't listening to it. "I would never do that!"
"Just get me the book, Darrick. We can stick to what we know we're good at. Let's not change it." She gave him a curt nod, and scurried out the door, letting it close behind her. He was not going to go after her, he just couldn't. Going after her would mean that he did truly care for her. Perhaps, if she thought that he was only interested in her luscious body, then she would stay away from him. He wouldn't have to stand the mockery and guilt of caring for a warlock.
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I know I promised longer chapters, but after sitting on this chunk of the story for so long without any idea of where to go next, I really wanted to update the story with it anyway. Next chapter I promise!