~* Author's Notes *~

I am currently fixing a continuity mistake with these next couple chapters. Hopefully I backpedaled in such a way as to not cause interruption to the flow of events.

~*~ Chapter 55 ~*~

The white haired priestess surveyed the fighting below her. Reanimated corpses fought the living and the dead alike. Creaping, crawling and flying things which had managed to get inside while the shield was bieng charged plagued the foot troops. The second abomination and the giant cat were still keeping each other busy. The undead melee-wielding children had cornered the druid into the relic vendor's stall and were not allowing her to rejoin the fighting. The plague tainted human and his former commander fought anything which got close enough to that stall. The spell-casting undead children had not recovered from the first wave and were, for all intents, down for the count. The Dark Lady was issuing orders to the mixed band of undead and living fighters which were formerly being lead by the spent warrior who's name, if the priestess remembered correctly, was Salira. Spying the warlock and scout fending off half-formed attackers while the archer of their group rounded up more arrows to shoot the white haired woman made a mental note: Sean of Darrowshire = Serz Huzzad.

Filing this away in her mental notes the not-quite-sane priestess leaned over the edge enough to see the food soldier who had found the Scarlet priestess. He covered her dislodged body with woven mats of some kind. As if that would stop her from rising from the dead. Daniel should not better. After all, he had served beside the white-haired priestess in the Western Plaguelands before he fell and rose as undead. He was so well preserved because she herself had locked him into the basement of a house, where he had spent his formative years sitting in a dark cellar and unable to answer the Lich King's calls. Howe he got out is anyone's guess but the lack of battle had preserved him rather well. He didn't recognize her, but she very well had recognized him.

Glancing up she took in the scenes which could be viewed from her vantage point alone. All but the adjacent section of compound were ablaze in fire. The priestess scoffed under her breath. This is why the Monastery was all stone and nothing was made out of wood. The section which was not on fire showed a lot of movement, though what exactly was moving remained to be seen. There were no exits out of that section, only an entrnace into this one. Whether friend or foe was about to meet them at the other gate would seeon be discovered.

Striding quickly to the edge of her section of wall she peered over into the darkness outside. The sight of the waiting troops caused the red of her eyes to deepen, the marks on her face to brighten and the Light in her gut to burn. From her vantage point she saw the mounted troops which had not yet made it inside. The necromancer was amongst them now, issuing orders and warding off the strong disagreement of the Death Knight who chased after her. Who exactly was in charge of this attack? Apparently without the link to their king ever Scourge had their own agenda.

The troops lined up at the necromancer's command. Apparently her argument was stronger than his. The spell-casters raised their various staffs at the golden-shieled doorway of the gate and opened fire. The priestess pulled back, feeling the combined might of so many powerful Scourge flex the shield, testing it's strength. Without waiting to see if they would suceed – for she knew eventually they would – she ran back to her position and called down to the un-Scourge Queen .

"Mounted troops outside, fighting in the East quarter. One necromancer, one Death Knight."

The Scouts teeth ground for a second before he gave into ire. "You cant be bothered to, you know, count the numbers?"

The priestess ignored this and went on, "The shield will hold for now, but I suspect it is not your troops winning the day in the East section. I suggest you think of an escape strategy: the fortress is lost." On an afterthought she called down, "And our deal still stands, even if they breach the defenses. That woman," she pointed to the covered body of the Scarlet priestess, "gave her life's Light to get that shield up. Do not make her sacrifice for nothing!"

"Our deal was that you would get the shield up yourself, not take down my pawns in the process!" The Dark Lady fought several risen minions with her two swords, two handed style flowing smoothly from lifetimes of skill application. Apparently the Scourge were not restricted to find their own body pieces before pulling themselves back together. She parried a blow from one which had three arms and only one and a half legs. Another one had two heads, two legs and no arms. It's still at trying to kick the feet out from under the dark queen caused the woman to spend considerable time hacking through it's thy bones in order to ground it.

"Were I the High Priest" the pale priestess retorted softly, "I would be able to do it in considerably shorter time. I said I could get it up, and I could have, but not as quickly as you let them get through the gate. The error is yours, not mine."

"Believe me, if I could summon Jetadiah to my side at a moment's notice, I would!" A sword stabbed through one rotted eye and burst out the back of the skull. Down went Ms. Oneleg. The disgusted queen shook it free of her weapon while parrying a dagger from a smaller undead, "He is missing, as you well known, and Corrosa with him."

"Why don't you summon her then?" The darkness in the priestess' voice would cause the wind to die should she choose.

The irate Banshee Queen almost missed a parry and had to use more force than necessary to push a limping corpse off her left leg. "Even if I could I would not." Why was never elaborated upon, though the priestess remembered a second latter than the Forsaken elf lost touch with her troops at the same time the Lich King lost touch with his. She sat down on the edge of the wall, safe for all intents and purposes, to rest and supervise the battle. Upon seeing this the elfin woman locked eyes with her for a second and then glanced at the gate leading into the only other section of compound not aflame. When she looked back the priestess nodded.

Meanwhile, the little druid had her own problems. "Let me out! I want to fight!" She had been in heated 'discussion' with the RazorWing and their leader and it didn't help that Nekov was now on their side. The Commander didn't care about sides, but incidentally wanted the same thing as the Michael and Nekov. Every exit out of the stall was literally filled with small bodies and the two adults blocked the door. There wasn't a way to get past, around or through any of them without having to charge down her temporary allies. "Let me out!"

"Keep her in." The Dark Lady didn't care who she lost as long as that druid remained alive and well. This was all for naught if she fell in battle. Michael nodded affirmation and turned back to his charge. His own body blocked the window through which customers would pass money in exchange for relics.

"I'm a Druid of the Wild, I do not sit in corners and cower while people fight and die! Have I not shown that I can handle the fighting?"

Commander Hillburn took this opportunity to express his battle knowledge, "You've shown an inability to follow directions; a crass disregard for those who mean to keep you well and safe; a rash string of bad decisions and worse of all a lack of discretion in your chosen targets. You charged that girl not knowing if her shield would be the death of you." She was about to respond when he remembered one last thing, "Lets not forget your selfish desire to fight alone instead of in a group. That may fly where you're from, where death is permanent so there is no real repercussion for dying, but here group fighting is a necessary life skill. If for nothing else than someone to burn your body so he can't have it. So, no, you're not fighting anymore. You're staying in that stall until it's safe to come out and that's my final word."

Turning sharply he left the stunned druid speechless. I have never been accused of being selfish and irrational. How dare he? Waves of risen and partially reassembled undead came. Nekov, the Commander and the children rotated who would fight the next wave off. Despite trying there was no way for Kayas to get past them even as one hopped out of a hole and the other body hopped in to fill it. Had this been one of the games they played in the forest?

With the Frostfire down the mixed group of defenders were far outnumbered by the rotting Scourge. Too spread out to keep them all down, some groups got rushed by more than others. A definitive scream here and there bespoke someone not dodgine a weapon or being hauled into the mouth of death. The Forsaken troops more than once had to pry one of there scarlet Soldiers or civilians out of the thick of unliving bodies who were trying to rip it to pieces. Several of the Forsaken had fallen as well, their bits and pieces still twitching, life in their eyes still, as their disregarded parts were thrown aside.

"Shadow priests, to me!" The Banshee Queen issued these orders swiftly upon realizing her troops were losing the battle. It only took seconds for the tide to turn against them and suddenly the mass of Scourge troops who had marched through the door and would not stop fighting was more than they could handle.

From the corners of the open area five red and black swathed priests strode forth. Their forms were shrouded in shadows as befitting those of their calling. The little druid backed into the stall and stopped fighting to escape upon seeing these dark figures. The Shadow Sisters of her own faith were hate-loved by all Kaldorei. Elune had an unpredictably cruel side as befitting a Goddess of balance, and these sisters were both revered for their power and feared for the seemingly random way they chose to use it.

"Burn the dead."

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Off they went, hands blazing with black flames of their faith, seeking out the fallen of their sistren(1) and brethren and setting them alight. The Druid looked away and sqirmed when the first one to be found was a Scarlet warrior who was not yet dead. He screamed to see the black flames coming at him. Commander Hillburn went stiff as a board, muscles bunching to watch his fellow fighter being put down like some dog for slaughter. There was no way to save the man, a lack of healers becoming more and more hindrance as the moments went by. His gloved hand went over his face, head down; he prayed under his breath and wept.

The little druid turned away, heart strings aching at the sound of men and women pleading not just for their lives, but for their afterlives. She shook her head trying to rid herself of the need to help, to fix the situation. More than the need to fight, her breed possessed a bone deep desire to carry the balance of the world inside them. The macrocosm was mirrored by the microcosm within every Druid: they dedicated their lives to finding the balance and upholding it. Or becoming the balance if need be.

Hands fisted at her sides a determination came over her. She tapped Nekov on the shoulder sharply. He turned a quarter of an inch to achknowledge her but did not leave his post. "She said keep you safe. Sit down and behave."

"I can help-"

"You''re not getting out!" Commander Hillburn focused on her with sharpness concentration to get his mind away from what was happening to his fallen troops. Two blackened bodies were already crumbling into the mud.

"I can heal!" she barked back, "I have the ability to heal. It's not strong healing, but it's better than nothing. If they aren't infected I might be able to save them. Let me out!"

Nekov mock laughed, "Soon as you get out you'll go all grrr and run off again. No."

"What choice do we have? We have no healers and I'm the only one: you have to let me try!" When they still wouldn't capitulate she kicked Nekov in the back of his knee just to see him cuss, jump and rub the sore spot. "Let me out or I'm going through you. See if you can keep me safe from them while your fighting me as well."

They argued. Michael looked at the position of the half-moon visible behind the departing rain clouds and sighed. Grownups liked to talk too much. The Frosfire's leader made her way over and broke up the squabbling. "The civilians need weapons anyway, but they won't go near the ones who are still writhing. We can't spare fighters to do it so let her loot the bodies."

Michael instantly backed up his undead comrade. "She promises not to shift and I don't see why she can't help loot. We can guard her well enough out there as in here."

Several minutes of arguing latter Michael simply ordered his Angels out of their positions and the Druid leaped smoothly through one of the openings in the stall. Nekov and the Commander fumed and vented at the small man but in the end had no recourse. They couldn't get her back in there and if they could they'ed spend more time keeping her there and not being able to protect the structure.

The two disgruntled men finally had something in common: a dislike of the RazorWing guild leader.

Kayas proceeded to the nearest dismembered corpse and began pulling off weapons, armor and clothing before it could pull itself back together. One small child took the weapons, another the fabric and a third the armor. She ordered the one with the clothing stack to stay nearby: she had a use for that cloth. By the time she was done with the first several bodies one of the Shadow Priests had made her way over, stood nearby. When the Druid move don she lit up the body in black flames till it was ash. They wove back and forth along the edge of the fighting, keeping well away from the bigger, more put-together soldiers until all of the single or small groups had been looted and roasted.

Next she sat down with the piles of loot and went through them, allowing the RazorWing to help her decide what was good to keep and what was not. In the end the few weapons and bits of armor available were passed off to Surname here, who took them to the c civilians. The ones who managed to great weapons or bits of armor on their own were already fighting but with a fresh supply more would be able to take the place of the fallen.

After the first round of looting the Banshee Queen ordered the RazorWing and Frostfire to switch places, so the recovering mages could do something while their magic restored itself. Michael took his fighters back to the fray while the lightly armored undead children who belonged to the Queldorie girl immediately began looting bodies. Their was enough left in them to fight off wayward attacks but staying on the edge of the fighting, not to mention the priest lighting the remains up so they couldn't come back, afforded them reprieve from battle.

While the children looted Kayas sat down on the edge of a wagon and began ripping the cloths to shreds. The lengths were ripped into strips over and over again until long, narrow sections of cloth remained where tattered, rotted clothing had once been.

"What are you doing?" Nekov leaned in to watch her progress after the third hole filled shirt found its way onto the pile.

The druid looked up at him, long ears nearly smacking the Commander who leaned over from behind her. "Making bandages."

"What good is dirty cloth going to do for the survivors? It needs to be sterile in order to have..."

His voice trailed off when Kayas took the end of one ripped length of cloth and began rolling it between her fingers. As she rolled she began singing a song under her breath. From her fingers the magic of her natural calling began unfurling. Green-silver leaves formed in the tendrils of power, soaking into the strips. A pattern of runes and twigs and pictorals of animals began appearing on the cloth. The cloth itself began transforming: all the non-appropriate debris fell away, caught on the natural wind. The entire length of cloth wound into a small roll in the palm of her hand. This she offered to the Commander.

"You were saying?"

~ End Notes ~

Yes, this is the correct female form of the commonly known 'brethren'. Brethren, as a rule, is not a word which automatic covers women in a mixed gender group. Use of 'sisters' alongside the term 'brethren' is grammatically incorrect. "Sistren" as a word fell out of use in the 16th century, but has been revived for use by modern English speakers. Cause what you wanted was a grammar history lesson today, right?