~*~ Author's Notes ~*~
Raptors wear bands around their arms and legs with feathers attached.
I see what you did thar, Blizzard…
/patsheadapprovingly
I'm sorry for all the typos in the last chapter. I didn't realize how bad it was until I went back to reread before writing this chapter. That's what I get for editing in a hurry.
I'm working on figuring out when some words are supposed to be capitalized and when they aren't. I've been capitalizing class when the word itself is used as or in place of a name, same for military titles, but recently discovered that's not always the proper way of things. Forgive the inconsistency in capitalization along those lines.
~*~ Chapter 48 ~*~
"The plan is to stand and fight?" Serz seemed willing enough to go along with whatever his Queen suggested, though he was apprehensive of the white haired priestess still.
"I would not give up the High Inquisitor if I had dearest Jetadiah to do this job, but he's grown weary of being my pawn from the time being and shadowcloaked his piece on the board." Those red eyes turned to the little Druid who was now sitting on one side of the scout with Mr. Meows on the other. "Since I value the Druid's scrawny existence over hers I'm willing to break every web I wove and rip it all down because he knows what I know." This was said directly to her, "How many archbishops and high inquisitors and warriors and rogues and warlocks must be sacrificed to save the pawn that can topple his kingdom? We'll soon find out."
Her ears went back and she glared. I can't and won't attempt to topple anyone for you. The Lich King take you back for all I care, I just want to go home. A voice in the back of her mind asked a very simple question, seemingly out of context but in the deaths of her soul saw the fortress awash in rain, flames and blood. It asked simply, Where is home now?
So you're fighting their enemies for them because you'd rather they live than die by his hand? This confused the Druid, who fully expected the Forsaken Queen was here in a quest to acquire more subjects. It didn't fully add up with the MO of her kind of thing. The Druid had to admit that the Dark Lady, whatever that sinister being's plans were, probably had the right of it. Better her than him she said.
Right now the white-haired priestess was the center of the universe in the enclave and it seemed the civilians needed her as a symbol of whatever that they were on their knees in tears and chanting about her white hair like some kind of pray of hope. She brought them that glimmer, that hope, and instilled in them a fortitude to keep fighting to the last wee child if need be.
Striding forward on long legs the Banshee Queen called for attention, "We have a mutual enemy at your gate. I have brought you a means of resurrecting your protective holy shield – even if it means the Forsaken will be affected by it as well – but as they say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' So let us work together to defeat our common enemy. We can squabble again latter, I promise."
The commander strode forward no, Salira in tow who was drying her eyes after receiving her own blessing from the priestess. "And what is to stop this becoming another Battle for the Castle, Windrunner?" Kayas wanted to grin in her feline form when the commander used her name instead of some variation of the usual 'witch' insult. She's growing on you, isn't she? The same way you're growing on me, though none of us will ever like the person under those admirable traits. Devil's Advocate, a friend of hers once called it; when you look at things from the perspective of the person who is obviously in the wrong.
Long, undead ears twitched in irritation. "What you mean to say is, 'Thank you, your majesty for going out of your way to help save my people instead of leaving them here in his hands to be butchered like so much chattel for the making of abominations.'"
His face got red again as it often did, "You think you can just march in here and do whatever you like?!"
The look the Dark Lady leveled at him could have withered grapes on the vine, "Your compound is overrun with traitors and under your feet are hundreds of undead- yes I know about them! - just waiting for a chance you. So yes, I do think I am going to waltz into your fortress and defend it like it's mine because as far as I'm concerned it is. Any objections?"
The commander was about to speak something scathing when the slightest touch on his forearm, too light to be felt through the metal, stopped him suddenly. The white priestess was there to fix all, "Given the unique position we find ourselves in I'm sure the he means to say we're ready to cooperate."
The Commander deflated like so much air escaping dead lungs. It was that easy to let go of command and let the red eyed woman assume the position. Salira was more than willing to delegate responsibilities. "Right then, what's your plan?"
A long, elegant finger came up to point atop the walls, "I am to go up there and recharge the crystals so that the Holy Light will once again protect us from the Scourge." That soft voice could have been tucking a child into bed. "Though there seems to be no way up the wall from here." The head tilted once more as she scanned the surroundings looking for whoever would tell her how to get to the top.
No one spoke. No one knew.
"I assume anyone who knows how to get up there is dead, dying or killing." Nekov was more annoyed at the prospect of fighting for the Scarlets than in fighting Scarlets. At least he won the argument with the rogue over whether he would keep his weapon- though the loss of armor was an ever-present annoyance.
The mage-priest had been standing nearby, the very one Nekov had given his cigar to. She gasped to hear the white priestess' plan and stuttered, "I've never seen a single priestess be able to charge even one of the focusing crystals, let along all six. It normally takes two priests each to charge them all."
"I shall have to do it alone, for what other choices do we have? The Monastery is fallen; we cannot rely on it any longer. This last bastion of the Light is all that is left; it must be preserved lest all of Tirisfal Glade fall to the undead."
The Druid expected the Banshee Queen to be upset with this but she seemed not at all surprised. If anything she waited patiently for explanations to be made so the fun of seeing who would exist on the morrow could begin, "Trust me dearest, you wouldn't be here if I could track down that warlock's keeper. I find it disturbing for a man like that to have such strong wander lust."
"Ms. Banshee, if you could keep your warlock yourself none of us would be here." Though the white priestess smiled, the ire the Druid had known had to be there finally showed through. "You take credit for the Monastery but in truth is that thing goes where it wants without a sheath to bind it."
She did what to whom? Neither the white priestess nor the Forsaken Queen went into details. Kayas disliked it a great deal with people talked about things that she had no clue about and didn't elaborate. In her society it was considered very rude.
"Quite the right of it, your Holiness," the tall elf said, "but better I take credit then give credit where credit is due." She glanced at the Druid.
Kayas stiffened and shifted out of her feline form before she knew it, "How is any of this my fault?"
"How is it not?" The scout didn't look at her, just crossed his arms over the exquisite jerkin and shifted into a more comfortable stance. He wore discontent like some men wear loud jewelry. The plan had been to sneak in and sneak Serz out, not to have to stop and fight every devil and demi-god in the whole of Tirisfal Glades. And all for the sake of someone who didn't even appreciate their efforts.
She was close enough to feel the heat coming off his body. "This is why my people kept to their own for thousands of years. It causes us nothing but trouble trying to fix the world's problems when we have our own to tend to."
The scout snored a laugh and quipped softly, "Hypocrite." Mr. Meow squealed in protest when the scout went flying over his backside and landed on ground with a thump. If he wasn't going to stop with the insults she was more than willing to make him!
Kayas was about to jump over the jungle cat and teach this little whelp a lesson about hypocrisy when Serz grabbed her arm with one hand and the scout with the other and stood between them. The younger elf was half covered in mud and looked ready to skin live Druids. His silver eyes glowed so fiercely they lit the warlock up like small flame and illuminated a great many details the little Druid hadn't noticed in the dim firelight of the priest's hovel. Scorch marks, bite marks, and nail marks, all carved in living flesh.
However Serz had died, it had not been a simple bite that infected and turned him to the Scourge. What was it he said to the commander? Ah yes, "I have been tortured before, and by those far more skilled than you?" But who would have wanted to torture him? Why? He had asked about the Monastery then…
"Now, now, children! We'll have time for that latter." The scout was glaring at Serz as he got to his feet, miffed his guardian kept stepping in, "Don't you look at me like that, I didn't hear what you said but I saw you say it. Apologize." The first knuckle of his left index finger was missing but he pointed at the smug Druid none-the-less.
"Sorry." Though he wasn't. Mr. Meows bellowed at him and he cringed, "Ok, I'm sorry! Truly!" Though he wasn't. When he flicked an evil eye at the Druid he met her yellow ones with his own and sneered back just as adamantly. Once one of their kind got it in their head they didn't like someone, it was as useful trying to change their mind as it was convincing Dwarves they didn't like living underground after all.
The white priestess' head tilted again as she was scrutinizing the Forsaken, "Sean? Of Darrowshire?"
The undead man beamed, troubles forgotten in an instant, "Why yes ma'am! And you would be-"
Red tinted eyes pulsed with madness for a moment before red tinted lips whispered, "Your judgment."
It happened so fast Kayas didn't know who could have countered it. An explosion of holy Light rocked the entire yard, strong enough to make her blood burn where it swept through. For an instant they were all stunned, unable to move or hear. Two second and all of it came rushing back.
"STOP THIS AT ONCE!" The Banshee Queen had the almost unconscious white priestess by the back of the cloak and was shaking her hard enough to rattle every bone in her fragile body. From that narrow chest protruded a shadow bolt of energy that sizzled with blue-black magic. The bolt was attached to a line, which lead back to its owner.
The scout.
That bow, which had only just a fraction of a second before been strapped to his back, was aimed at her head, tip wavering back and forth to keep the center directly between those bobbling red eyes. His stance was perfect, the glowing string drawn back to his jaw and utter focus in every line of his body. If she made one more move he would lose that string and she would die.
The Banshee Queen would not stop shaking the woman till she peeled her blazing red eyes from the cowering warlock. "Whatever I have done to offend you," Serz pleaded, "My lady, please forgive me!" Mr. Meows had taken up the space between them, ears back and tail lashing in rage. Ten claws as long as the little Druid's hands each sank into the ground where they flexed in promise. Dare me to.
Nekov had one hand on commander and one on Salira to stop them interfering. No doubt their attempts to save the priestess would only result in their own turn to be poked with that magic-wrought bow, or shook like a rag-doll. Though they resisted springing to her rescue, the tension in both bespoke barely holding themselves back.
The priestess made to speak and gasped for air. The string was pulled taunt by the scout. The shadow arrow released from her chest, dissolved into nothing and vanished. She gasped again, lungs sucking in a desperate gulp of air. The scout never took his eyes from her, all his discomforts confirmed and his distrusts made manifest. The hard look in his eyes, the way his body moved and voice belonged to someone much older.
"Try it again." he warned. "Give me an excuse to kill more of you. Please."
Kayas lips parted in surprise and awe. Ok, so he was good with a bow. Really, really good with a bow.