Alone in the Dark Pt. 2

The sun seemed eerily soothing, outside the cellar where the Druid was hidden. Aeldon sat nearby, having a drink and enjoying a smoke. He had grown ill from having to question the prisoner, and needed the fresh air and warm sun to keep himself relaxed. His hands somehow didn't feel clean, knowing what he was doing. He was sick with it, but knew it had to keep going.

"I've done worse," he kept telling himself, "At least this has some use...it’s not meaningless..."

Hearing noises coming from the door to the cellar, he looked and saw Aurhia walking in. He thought about getting up and stopping her, thinking she might do something drastic.

"She's not a murderer....she wont kill an unarmed prisoner..."

He was able to enjoy another pipe-worth of smoke, and a fairly relaxing drink. He was trying to avoid having to go back into that cold room. He didn't want to admit it, but every time he looked at Felora, he would see the face of one of his past victims, any one of several dozens. It was not something he enjoyed. The leaf he was smoking was helping to counter that problem.

He could hear the distant sounds of a fight, Orcs shouting and metal clashing together. He was about to go and assist, until he heard the voice of Rexor overpowering all other voices and noises, and then quiet.

"Guess I won’t need to help after all...."

He looked onto the cellar door, and watched as Hifazat walked back in, carrying his usual cloud of evil after him.

"Guess it’s that time again," Aeldon said as he stood up and emptied his pipe upon the ground. He slowly walked towards the doors and went down into the dark, cold caverns, a chill running down his spine at the thought of what was about to happen. He stepped into a side room, lighting a spare torch and getting another bucket of fresh water and an empty basin for it. Upon leaving the room, he felt a swift force push him off his feet, spilling the water, shattering the bowl, and putting out the torch. All he could see when looking up was Aurhia, leaning against the wall, stunned and surprised to have run into him.

"You should be more careful Aurhia, these dark passages are dangerous if you're not paying attention."

The look she returned him said far more than anything she could have said with words, a look of fear, mixed with hatred.

"Hifazat...." she began, out of breath, "He's going to do something terrible to that Tauren. He said he was going to destroy her soul and spirit, make her unable to do anything. He wants to make her a weapon against the Grin."

Aeldon was horrified at her words. What Hifazat was doing...it was a mistake, in far too many ways to imagine.

"I'll try to get him to stop," he started, "But if he had his way, I'd be dead myself. I don’t know how long I can keep that monster on a leash."

"Do what you can," she replied, helping him up and starting for the door, "I'll go and get some others to help."

And so Aurhia was gone, and he was left alone in the dark hallway. With little light, and an overwhelming sense of fear, he ran into the room with Hifazat and Felora. The scene was terrible; purple light surrounded Felora, and one could feel the Fel energy in that room. Hifazat stood there, hand outstretched, a smile upon his face.

"Why are you back, Aurhia?" he asked, "I told you to leave me alone with this creature."

"It’s me, demon-lover," Aeldon said, "And I cant let you do this."

The atmosphere changed suddenly in the room, filling with overwhelming hatred and rage. Aeldon could barely stand the room, the air seemed heavy and hot, making it difficult to breathe.

"The Syndicate trash, telling me what I can and can’t do? I would be insulted, if I cared at all about your opinion. Your use as a translator will no longer be required. Run along now, before I do with you what I do with all the other Syndicates that cross my path."

Aeldon, undeterred, ran into the room and grabbed hold of Hifazat's robes. Immediately, he felt the searing pain of Hifazat's hate course into his arm, burning like a terrible fire.

"You really think you can stop me, little murderer? I am doing what no one has the ability to do. I am making a weapon against the Grin unlike any other. They will see their Seer reduced to nothingness, and they themselves will be reduced to nothingness. Now....if you value your soul intact, you should remove your hand..."

Aeldon, perhaps absorbed in stupidity, instead pulled Hifazat away and turned him, so they faced each other.

"You think breaking their Seer will hurt them? They will see this as a sin unlike any other! They will break Stromgarde for this crime. They will do to us far more than you can ever do to this Tauren. Pull your head out of the hind end of whatever demon you get your power from, and think about something more than your own amusement! She knows what we are willing to do to her, let her recover from these wounds and we'll try to interrogate her again. Until then, we have to keep her alive and functional!"

Aeldon, having realized his mistake, froze nearly completely still.

Azaleth had been listening through the door. He walked into the room and said, "He is right."

His words became the harsh and guttural tones of Demonic. "We need her. Breaking her spirit won’t do us any good, it will only feed the fire. I suggest you leave and let Aeldon do the interrogation."

Hifazat answered in Common. "Or what? What would you do to stop me, Azaleth? What can you do to stop me? I will have you -"

"Look," Azaleth interrupted him in the same language. "I’m not gonna stand here and threaten you or fight you. There is no point to it. Aurhia and Rexor are on their way here with other Keepers. Do you really think that they will approve of this? Do you really think they will let you keep going?"

Switching back to the Demonic tongue he continued, "I know what it takes to be a warlock and what we have to go through. I know what a war is and what can it do to you. Another time I would have let you keep going, I might have helped you. But now is not the time. It’s not the right thing to do."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Azaleth was starting to sweat. Hifazat's face showed anger. It wasn’t clear if it was toward Azaleth or the tauren.

Still speaking in Demonic, Azaleth continued.

"This is not about being honorable or being weak at heart. It’s about the consequences. Think about what this will lead to and if you really want to start a new war."

---

A translucent wolf barreled towards the bridge. She'd heard Rexor's voice, she knew he was there somewhere.

Skidding to a stop at his feet, she howled to get his attention. The transformation back to Draenei was swift, but in her agitation she had trouble putting the Common together.

"Tauren, demons, Aeldon, Hifazat, come, hurry!" She shook herself. "He is being too corrupted! He is…is spreading to rest of you, to Tauren! Like plague!" She grabbed at Rexor’s arm.

"I knowing you are doing what think you must. World is hard. Doing is hard. But you are not monster. Not like him."

Without letting go of his arm, she took a step backward, trying to pull him along. "Aeldon is trying him stopping! Must be him stopping from attacking Aeldon, at least!"

Rexor looked at Aurhia blankly at first, as the bloodlust drained from his face. As the frantic Shaman spoke, realization dawned on his face, followed by alarm at her words.

Rexor smacked himself in the forehead with a plate-covered hand. "What in blazes is Aeldon thinking?! He is going to get himself killed!"

Motioning for Aurhia to follow him, the Warrior sprinted off towards the dungeons, hoping that he wasn’t already too late.

---

Rexor skidded to a halt at the door to the interrogation chamber, motioning for Aurhia to wait outside, fearing the wild, unchecked rage of the volatile Warlock. Aurhia, however, shook her head.

"I am not afraid of that monster, nor his magic," she said.

Rexor couldn’t help but feel a bit of admiration for the young Shaman, and though he wanted to point out that it wasn’t a matter of bravery, he knew every second could cost Aeldon his life. So he nodded and flung the door open with a mighty heave of his shoulder, bursting into the chamber. He could only stare at the scene before him.

Aeldon was gripping Hifazat's shoulders, shouting at him, while Azaleth stood off to the side, speaking loudly to Hifazat in Demonic. The crazed Warlock however, seemed ready to burn them both straight to hell.

Acting quickly, Rexor ran forward, shouldering past Azaleth and yanking Aeldon away from the insane Vindicator. Knowing that Hifazat was unlikely to curse him, he placed himself between the two, looking first at the Warlock. "What is going on here, Hifazat? Why do I get the feeling you were about to kill Aeldon?"

"That little cowardly traitor was trying to protect this animal!" Hifazat roared.

"Ha! Don't listen to his lies, Rexor! This lunatic was about to destroy our source of information!" Aeldon shouted from behind the Warrior.

Hifazat growled and raised his hand palm outward at the Rogue, clearly about to cast some kind of deadly magic. Rexor clamped an armored fist around the Warlock's wrist and slowly lowered his arm.

"Don’t," he said to Hifazat. "Let me handle this. Aeldon has already proven that he is not a traitor and is worthy of our colors. We don’t need to shed blood amongst ourselves!"

The Warlock looked furious, but inclined his head to Rexor, obviously sure that the Warrior would see things his way. Rexor mentally sighed with relief as he turned to Aeldon. "What happened?"

"Aurhia found me and told me he was planning to break the mind of the Seer!" Aeldon exclaimed, pointing at Hifazat. "I told him we haven’t gotten enough information from her yet! He won’t listen! He's out of his demonic mind!"

Rexor stood silently for a moment, his mind churning. He wasn't surprised by Hifazat's plans nor did they really bother him...but he knew he has to do something. If the Warlock had his way, who knew what the Grin would resort to. Retribution aside, the rest of the Keepers certainly wouldn’t take kindly to Hifazat's actions, and internal conflict was not something Rexor wished to see among them. He turned back to the Warlock.

"Listen to me, Hif. You know as well as I do what will happen if you go through with this! Who knows what size force the Grin will bring down upon us in retaliation? Breaking their Seer will not demoralize them, but galvanize them!"

He stared Hifazat in the eye.

"We need the information she has. This is not a matter of honor or morality; you know those don't apply to the Horde. This is a matter of survival for the Keepers!"

Rexor's eye suddenly gained a dull red glint, and a slight grin crosses his face.

"Besides," he muttered to the Warlock, "They will want her alive and whole. They won’t come to rescue a broken shell. So we’ll get our information....and then we wait for them to come to us. And when they do, we’ll be waiting. Won’t we, old friend?"

As if to emphasize his point, Rexor drew his serrated throwing dagger and lightly ran it along the jagged scar on his neck.

"Come, let Aeldon continue his work. We need her information. Besides, I doubt the scouting party I just destroyed will be the only one...."

Hifazat looked around the room. So many of these weaklings dared to stand up to him. They shall all suffer, he thought. But before they do, there are matters that I must attend to.

He feigned defeat, looking at Rexor with brittling rage. "Very well. But if we are to continue on this path of pathetic weakness and absolute stupidity, I require my imp to be here. Don't not question why, Rexor, if you value your life."

As Hifazat called his imp from the nether, he looked directly at Aeldon. "Your time will come soon, traitor. But remember one thing - what I wish always happens. It is not because of luck, but because those who stand in my way die. They die rather horribly and suffer a great deal. You are lucky, Syndicate scum, that you now wear our colors. If I had my way, you would be dead."

As the imp came through the portal, Hifazat knelt down, handed him a bottle and whispers something into his pointed ears.

Straightening up, he looked around the room and smiled sadistically. "Keepers, I always get my way. Remember that."

Letting loose a blood-curdling howl with the intent of pitching the entire room into a frenzy of terror, Hifazat aimed straight at Aeldon's head, pitching curse after curse.

From the corner, the imp scampered over to the captive tauren and forced the contents of the bottle down her throat. As the bottle emptied, Felora fell into a dreamless sleep.

---

The room had become so suddenly filled with commotion that the tauren female could no longer tell what was going on. The warlock seemed to hold everyone's focus; the act of interrogating her had been - for now - forgotten. The Keepers were shouting in Common now, their voices echoing off of the walls to mix with the blood already in her ears. It was a welcome distraction. If Aeldon hadn't stepped in...Felora swore that Hifazat had intended to rip her soul from her body.

The human's ire was now focused on Aeldon, a malicious grin fixed on his face as the rogue began to bleed. The air was thick with fear and curses, and Felora clenched her eyes in an effort to block them from her senses. A scraping on the stone floor in front of her caught her attention, and she opened her eyes to find an imp staring back at her. Its skin rippled with felfire, and Felora shuddered to look at the creature. It wasn't natural, this being. It grinned at her, baring a mouth full of sharp incisors and a tongue that was jet black. She shrank back as she saw the vial of red liquid the imp held in its claws; she would have known that concoction anywhere. The imp pounced toward her face, muffling her screams and uncapping the vial to pour its bittersweet contents straight down her throat.

Felora's head started to swim. She could hear her heart beating slower and slower, until she could hear nothing at all save for the roar in her ears. Her breathing came shallow and fast, aggravating her bruised ribs. Her whole body was alight with a burning pain, and she gasped.

No, she thought. No! I promised him...

Her eyes closed and rolled into her head. The Nightmare had her within its grasp once again.

---

Aurhia distinctly turned her back, putting herself between Hifazat and Aeldon. She wanted to be sure he was not already hurt. Being unable to tell what kind of sapping curse may have been cast on the rogue, she closed her eyes and laid a hand on his shoulder. A sigil appeared in front of her, radiating its own light. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing more strongly than usual. Warmth washed over Aeldon slowly, becoming stronger with time and dissipating in a few seconds.

She cursed to herself in Draenei and added dryly to Aeldon in Common, "Now she is seeing us broken. Wonderful."

---

Everyone bursting into the room seemed to have passed right by Aeldon's attention. Grabbing at the warlock was one of the stupidest things he had ever done. He had been told by Hifazat himself, the next chance he got, he would destroy him.

Azaleth's and Rexor's voices were good to hear indeed - though much of their words had been blurred - and Aeldon couldn't tell if they were helping or condemning him, but it had seemed to stop Hifazat's rage, for the time. As Aurhia healed him and gave him strength, Aeldon seemed to return to some form of normalcy. He could not understand Aurhia's Draenei, but he could make out the Common.

"You're right," he said with effort. "We'll just have to make sure we don’t lose her now...."

He smiled at Aurhia, and turned his head to Hifazat, listening to his ranting. His traitor and Syndicate comments were as unwelcome as ever, and a sword would have been more welcomed in the conversation. When Hifazat let loose his terrible howl, Aeldon rolled his eyes, unaffected by such fear-causing trickery.

"How is this guy still a Keeper?" he asked, half sarcastically, and half seriously.

Turning back to Hifazat, he saw a terror unlike any other. Waves of fel energy began washing through his head like legions of maces and swords all at once. The first curse was nullified by Aurhia's healing spell; the remaining dozen hit with such force that Aeldon didn't even have time to have his life flash before his eyes. His eyes, nose, mouth, ears, and many scars begin to bleed. His head felt as though it was ready to explode, and his mind could feel the strain of the terrible power, saved only by years of a terrible lifestyle and mental defenses. His eyes saw nothing but green fire, and faint shadows that might have been the other Keepers.

When it was finished - he knew not how - he remained standing, wobbling for a moment, with his vision getting blurry. He looked around, feeling blood dripping down his face, and a headache unlike any imaginable, and grinned.

"I've had worse....demon....lover...."

His wit was cut short when the pain overwhelmed even his thresholds, and the mental barriers he was able to build started to crumble. He fell to his knees, hitting the ground with a great thud. He was far from death, but also far from the health he had but a moment before.

---

Yagyu’s thoughts drifted as he studied the map. It had been hours since he had gone over it with Ashenrock and he was tired. The flames of the fire were dying down and he could hear the innkeeper shuffling across the room to prod the burning logs with a poker. The spitting of the embers sounded clearly in his ears as the map seemed to morph into a snake that hissed at him. He looked quizzically but unafraid at the face of the snake. It had an almost human face, pink, ugly and thin. Suddenly the snake lunged at the Warlord and as his head jerked back his eyes flashed open and he realized that he had fallen asleep studying the battle-map.

A voice called to him from the corner.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Yagyu?”

It was Yalim. The Sin’dorei priest had been his friend almost as long as Felora had and Yagyu shook his head as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Just a few more minutes an’ then I will, Yalim. I gotta figger sumthin’ out….but I jus’ can’t see it.” He stretched and rose from the table and walked to the bar, where a small basin half-full of water rested. He felt somewhat rejuvenated as he splashed the cold water on his face.

“Well, don’t tire yourself out…the rest of the Clan needs you sharp too, you know.”

Yagyu nodded as Yalim retreated to his quarters.

Yalim was right of course. Yagyu was not thinking like a Warlord. He was thinking like a Raider. Felora was his friend and the longer she was missing the heavier the cloud that hung in the air became. Everyone in the Clan felt that something was wrong but no one wanted to voice it, lest their superstitions make truth come of the fear. Yagyu was answerable to the Warchief for the custody of the Grin. He had to worry about battle planning, officer training, grots, and all the other duties that he had to complete. He could not devote all his time and energy to one Sythegar, no matter who it was.

He sat down in front of the map again and stared at it, willing the paper to speak to him and tell him where the Keepers had taken Felora. He could feel the rage rising up again inside him but he had to control himself. The Warchief needed a Warlord who would think, not a crazed animal that cared only for bloodshed and slaughter. That was for the Grunts and Raiders. Yagyu shut his eyes tightly and tried to measure his breathing. Opening them he saw the map on the table, mocking him, laughing at his stupidity, snickering at his incompetence. “You will never find your Sythegar…your friend is gone,” it seemed to sneer at him. He could take it no longer. With a roar he smashed his massive hands into the map, splintering the table top, sending bits of wood and parchment spinning into the fire.

He stared dumbly at the ruined table and cursed himself for his lack of discipline. He could not give in to despair or hopelessness. That was for the weak soldiers of Thrall, not for the Blacktooth Grin. They would find Felora. They would find her and bring her home. He believed they would. He knew they would. They would bring her home and they would care for her just as they had cared for him and all the other Grin who had suffered in these wars. And when they found her….the spirits should have mercy on any Keepers they found with her, for the Grin most assuredly would not. They would dismantle their Keep brick by brick and the pieces of Keepers that they pulled from their blades would be posted on pikes around the corners of Arathi and the Wetlands. But the heads….the heads they would save. Their gaping mouths would scream a silent warning to any others who dared to confront the Blacktooth Grin.

---

Ashenrock bolted upright in bed. The vision of Felora screaming was still sitting in his mind's eye. He felt his wrists burn and his face was exploding with pain. He jumped to his feet and quickly calmed his mind, shaking off feelings borne of empathy. The druid had long held an empathic closeness to nature and often felt the pain of the wild. Never before, though, had he felt the pain of another...not even his brother, whom he had been very close to before his disappearance. Once his meditation cleared the confusion, he walked outside into the cool night air of Hammerfall. Felora was alive, close, and in a great deal of pain.

Ashenrock noticed Grimnir sitting in a chair, puffing on his pipe.

"You seem troubled, Warchief," the old shaman stated.

Ashenrock looked at the Warlord and nodded. "None of this sits well with me, Grim. You've been at war with the Keepers for far longer than I. Why would they take a prisoner? I always figured them as honorable...holding a prisoner, especially a non-violent healer, is bad form."

Grimnir looked up at the Tauren. "So now there are rules to our war?"

The old orc sighed heavily. "This war has gone on for so long. Frustration is mounting for everyone on all sides. Desperate times cause desperate men to take desperate measures."

Ashenrock peered over the walls onto the landscape. "I felt her, Grimnir. I felt her pain, and her sorrow. She feels very alone. We need to get her back her out of there, and soon."

Grimnir knew that there was nothing he could say that would make the Warchief feel any better about the situation. All he could do was offer his compassion. "Trust in your troops, Chief. They will find her."

---

What day was it? What time was it? Faquarl didn't even know anymore. Things were happening far too quickly these days. What began as a simple mission had turned into a war. Well, not so much as turned into a war, but melded into the one already being waged.

Faquarl's time in the Emerald Dream had been brutal. Being technically dead himself did nothing to ease the strain of trying to complete his now monumental task. By all rights he did not know why he was walking away from it all now.

Faquarl had been traveling for what seemed like days southwest toward what was known as Arathi in the normal world. He did not necessarily know why he was making this journey but something within him told him it had to be done.Perhaps it was his intuition, whatever it was Faquarl was hoping it would be something worth the trek.

He felt that he was getting close to where he was meant to be now and decided to rest by one of the nearby apple trees. The tauren removed his headdress and placed it beside him as he sat down to rest his back on the trunk of the tree. When he finally rested his back onto the trunk he held his hands out. As expected several apples fell from the tree almost as he raised his awaiting hands.

Taking a bite from an apple Faquarl looked up into the the limbs of the tree and noticed half of the leaves were turning brown before his eyes. Taking another bite he grumpily awaited whatever it was that his gut told him would be coming.

---

Felora remembered this all too vividly. She grit her teeth as she felt the Dream coalesce into place, and she curled herself into a ball as she waited for the world to stop spinning, for the Nightmare to take her. She was alone, and a paralyzing fear was starting to edge up on her.

But the Nightmare did not come. Opening her eyes, the druid saw that the Dream appeared just as she remembered it from her first sojourn - cloaked in a pale green and strung through with a misty haze that seemed to cling to everything it touched. The Dream felt different here, in Arathi, then it had in Kalimdor. There were fewer trees, and the air seemed thicker. What little clothing she had been wearing had vanished; here she wore nothing but her true self.

She sat up, and a sharp pain in her shoulders brought her back to herself. Her pain would not dissipate here - that was a talent that only druids with much more experience could manage, she was sure. The gashes on her wrists were still visible, although she did not bleed. Fear kept gnawing at her mind, her eyes darting back and forth at shadows as she stumbled through the haze.

A dark blur rode the horizon before her - what had started as a faint shadow was taking form as she got closer. It was a tree, thick with apples so dark and red they might as well have been purple. Beneath it set the form of a tauren, coal black with one horn snapped in half. Felora could hear him muttering to himself even from her distance, and she suppressed a smile. He was, certainly, the last person she expected to find here.

He turned suddenly to face her, familiar golden eyes fixing on her face. A habit snapped into place after years of long practice, and Felora fell to her knees before the dreamform of her mentor, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

Faquarl sighed gruffly. "Get up, Felora. There's no reason for that here. The only ones here to be shown reverence are the dragons, and even they are no longer worthy."

She stood slowly, wincing at the pain in her ribs. A flicker of concern crossed Faquarl's eyes, or perhaps she imagined it.

Faquarl's dark face wrinkled into a frown. "I thought I told you never to enter the Dream again, Felora. Why are you here?"

She looked up into his face, suddenly confused and pained. "It wasn't my fault, sir. I didn't do it on purpose, I swear. They forced me here."

His frown deepened. "Who forced you here? Wait, I don't want to know. It doesn't matter."

"Sir," she asked when she had her breath again, "what are you doing here?"

"I am here because of you," he replied, pushing himself into a standing position and bending to retrieve his headdress from its place on the ground. "By burying me on Azeroth, Felora, you sentenced me to fight an endless war."

Felora's face fell. "That was not my intention, sir."

"Of course it wasn't. Good intentions or not, here I am," he said, replacing his headdress. "Perhaps it's better this way."

She studied him - it was Faquarl, certainly, but at the same time, it was not. He looked different, had clothed his dreamform in garments of a wilder, more tribal essence. His headdress held the shape of a hawk's face, its hooked beak curving down over his forehead. He reached across one shoulder and unclasped a dark blue cloak trimmed with feathers, holding it out to her with one hand. She took it gratefully and wrapped it around herself.

"Still, you know that you're not safe here," he continued. "The Nightmare has marked you and before long, it will find you."

Felora nodded dumbly, an ache beginning in the palm of her hand, just over a broad, dark scar.

"I am not safe here, and I am not safe on Azeroth. I don't think that there is anywhere safe anymore, sir."

"That will all depend on what happens to your body," Faquarl answered.

Felora shuddered. For all she knew, she was still in the bowels of Stromgarde Keep with that monster, Hifazat. Worry wracked her and she held the feathered cloak tighter. She could only hope that the Grin would find her soon.

---

The moon hung wetly in the sky as Grimnir puffed his pipe and studied the old, battered map of the Arathi Highlands. He'd spoken with the Warchief earlier.

"I felt her, Grimnir," the tauren had said. "I felt her pain, and her sorrow. She feels very alone."

Grimnir knew. He knew only too well.

"We need to get her out of there...and soon."

Grimnir heard the raw desperation in Ashenrock's voice. It matched the bloodlust in Yagyu's eyes. The Grin would move to reclaim Felora...and the Keepers knew it. By design, or by sheer dumb luck...the Keepers of Stromgarde had landed upon one of their most potent weapons yet found over the course of the long war.

And so, several hours later, the old shaman remained hunched in his easy chair, scowling at the map. He knew the Keepers weren't savaging Felora simply out of some sadistic pleasure. They understood the tactical implications, same as himself. Felora was their ace in the hole. With her in their possession, they would dictate the battle.

He knew there wasn't much time. The Warchief would make his move soon enough - and with damned good reason. Strategic dilemma or no, Felora was suffering, and in mortal peril. The Grin would move soon, and they would move with rage in their eyes and bloodlust in their hearts.

When that happened, Grimnir needed to be ready. Needed to retain his focus and his composure. Needed to see how many ways the Keepers could be trapping them, and devise countermeasures. Needed to, in short, do his job.

He sat and studied the map. From time to time, a smoke cloud rose.

---

In less than a space of a single breath, four pulsing totems appeared in a circle around the shaman and she spun, pointing at the warlock, whispering one word over and over. Every few seconds came something else, a short Draenei phrase that disrupted the spell the warlock was casting at that moment. Three balls of crackling electricity arced around her.

One of the totems grew to a height even taller than the Draenei, fire with a face which began gliding toward the warlock.

As Aeldon fell to the ground, Hifazat grinned to himself. The traitor was not dead, he knew. But he would take a great deal of time to recover and, Hifazat thought that he should have learnt his lesson this time.

The sound of spell casting brought Hifazat away from his prideful musings to see Aurhia ready for battle. Sighing out loud, Hifazat looked pitifully at the Draenei. He calmly took each spell cast at him, stepping back every few moments as her powerful shocks ripped through him. As the barrage ended for a few moments, Hifazat looked at Aurhia.

"So lass, you attack a man who has done you no wrong? How very honorable. Do continue; I would like to see how far your hatred and anger takes you. You do realize that there is more to being an Eredar than just being corrupted by the Burning Legion. That is the final step."

He grinned viciously at Aurhia. "What do you think the first step is?"

---

Rexor rolled his eye at Hifazat. Being a Warrior meant that Rexor had long ago learned to shield his mind from such magic. His slightly amused expression darkened however, as the Warlock launched his barrage at Aeldon. Rexor knew a fair bit about magic, but being unable to wield it meant there was nothing he could do for the Rogue.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching Aurhia counter Hifazat's spells, noting with interest that the Warlock's imp minion had forced a vial of something down the prisoner's throat.

Rexor realized then that with so many Keepers in the room, the wall militia was outside unassisted. I'll be damned if I'll let them catch us like this, he thought to himself. Figuring Azaleth and Aurhia could contain the situation, he turned to the door.

"Somebody has to watch the entrance, Hifazat. I will not leave our gates open to attack so that we can stand here and have this petty squabble."

Yanking the doors open with a heave, the veteran swept from the dungeon back outside, stopping at his quarters to grab his helmet and an extra blade to strap onto his left gauntlet.

On the bridge to the Sanctum, he was met with a sight that brought the red tint into his eye; the three bridge sentries sat slumped against the wall, snoring loudly. With a growl he backhanded two of them across their helmets, roaring, "FOOLS! YOU DARE SLEEP WHILE ON GUARD DUTY OUTSIDE HIS HIGHNESS'S CHAMBER!? YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO GUARD HIM!!"

The two cowered in the face of the mad Warrior's rage. Heaving one off the ground by his tunic, he sent him stumbling off toward the barracks. "Go! Have someone sent to relieve you! I'll have you dealt with later!"

Turning, he saw that the third sentry had not even stood. Beside himself with fury, Rexor reached down to drag him to his feet, but soon noticed that the man’s neck had been broken.

Shouting a few curt orders to the remaining militia, Rexor drew his mace and donned his helmet, swiftly beginning to comb the area as he looked wildly for the intruder.

---

Mortael studied the scene happening below him with a clinical detachment. He cared nothing for the life of the man, but the fact that he was dead at all served only to point out to the rogue just how much the situation had taken out of him. He growled quietly while thinking to himself. A simple sap…I shouldn’t have hit him that hard…and then not hiding the damn body quickly enough….gods, but I need sleep.

He had been in the Keep going on 4 days now. The Keepers maintained diligent posts, and he was always moving. Sleep was a luxury that was just going to have to wait.

Movement below snapped him out of his thoughts. It was the human warrior that he had been following, his face contorted with rage. This wasn’t the first time Mortael found comfort in the shadows that he wrapped himself in. He wouldn’t like to face the warrior right now. The way the human took charge of the situation left no room for doubt that this was a man used to having his word obeyed. This peaked the rogue’s interest. For the first time since he had come here, Mortael had obtained a vital bit of information. The guards posted, the presence of someone of rank, and the unknown commotion coming from inside the building that the warrior had recently left all pointed to a likely location as to where Felora was being held.

Mortael slipped down silently from where he had been crouched and moved along the shadows. The death - his mistake - had served a purpose in the end. It was time to get the information to the Chieftain. Felora was his Seer and confidant. He would be beside himself with worry. It wouldn’t be surprising to learn that he had slept as little as Mortael. Yagyu would be in a similar state. It was time for this to end. Haste was required as much as ever. While the death provided information, it also alerted the Keepers to the presence of an intruder. They would comb this place top to bottom, and when they didn’t find anything - and they wouldn’t - they would begin to take strategic action. Moving Felora could very well be one such action.

Mortael moved quickly back to where Arahin was hidden. His fellow rogue looked as ragged and as tired as he did.

“Arahin, alert the rest of the Dreadstalkers. I have the information we require and I’m moving now to get word to the Warchief.”

Arahin nodded in the affirmative.

“It will be done.”

Mortael’s only regret was that he was unable to get word to Felora. There were too many and the risk was too great. She was going to have to have faith that the Grin would come for her. Such a faith would not be unfounded. The Grin was coming. A smirk crossed Mortael’s face as he thought of the suffering that was going to befall the Keepers.

---

Ashenrock could no longer sleep. He sat on his bunk thinking about the vision and the emotion he felt. He wanted desperately to charge into Stormgarde to free her but he knew that it would be an endeavor that would get them both killed. I have to remain calm, he thought. Have to let Mortael do his job. Without intelligence, there was no way he could devise a plan that would free his Seer without harm...or at least any more harm that had come to her.

Suddenly he was brought to his knees, gasping for air. The world around him swirled and shook violently. A green haze descended all around him. He felt completely lost and frightened. Yet all the same...he felt an intense anger...almost a betrayal. These weren't his feelings, though. They weren't coming from his mind but from another. He grabbed at his head, trying to shake off the feeling until he realized that it was Felora he was feeling again. Where was this place? It was like nothing he had ever experienced.

As fast as it had hit him it was gone. He was left kneeling in his quarters searching for answers.

---

"I am sure you can be telling me," Aurhia said.

The fire elemental glided back toward its totem, but she didn’t release it. Watching the warlock, she stepped backward over Aeldon's prone form, and looked away from Hifazat only long enough to make a quick field assessment of his injuries.

"What are your masters promising you for sacrificing us?"

She clearly expected the warlock to attack again as soon as his power had returned. Light began to string together between her hands. "And what information is the Tauren having that you are not wanting us to know, I wonder?"

The light grew and expanded to surround Aeldon, healing his physical wounds. She steps forward again, standing between them. She would fight to her last breath to protect her friend, a concept the warlock was obviously no longer capable of understanding.

---

The lights were out. Aeldon was alone, surrounded by rocking shadows.

“Who is there,” he cried, receiving only an echo in return. “Answer! Who is out there?”

There was mumbling all around him, the voices of dozens, maybe over a hundred folk.

“Hi,” came a quiet, young voice.

Before him, a young girl walked out of the shadows and into a light. She was covered in blood, her face pale, appearing as though she had recently died.

“Who are you?” Aeldon asked, struggling to get to his feet.

“You killed me, when my mommy was holding me too close. You killed me, and my mommy, for our money!”

It was then he remembered. It was years ago, when he was still with the Syndicate. The father was dead, and the mother was trying to protect her child. She wouldn't tell us where their treasures had been hidden, and in anger, Aeldon ran them both through. As he remembered, the mother stepped forward, appearing bloodied and dead, her cheeks covered with dried tears.

“You killed me, Syndicate lackey. Why did you kill us? Why!?”

“It was,” he tried to say, “We...it was...I was different back then...I thought it was necessary!”

Another stepped forward, a young Mage, saying, “Was my death necessary? You killed me for a whim! I had done nothing to you, and you killed me!”

“I....you were....I...couldn't...I didn't like Dalaran mages, it was out of anger!” Aeldon said, becoming more distressed.

A group now stepped forward, each with a single sword wound to the neck. Each of them looked like Aeldon, each had his hair, and his face. Men and women, brothers and sisters.

“And us, brother,” they said in unison. “Why did you kill us?”

Aeldon could only stare forward at them, too traumatized to move or speak.

“I....I....you...” he stumbled.

“You killed us, brother. Two, robbed and murdered, four, murdered in their sleep. You killed us! You killed us!”

“I....thought you had Plague...you had the symptoms...I didn't...want you to....”

“To what, brother? Live? The Paladins could have helped us, you know they could have!”

“No one...could have known...” His voice was now becoming but a whisper in his mind. “No one...how could I have...it was all wrong...”

“You killed us,” they all began to chant. “You killed us! You killed us! You killed us!”

There was a bright light beginning to shine around him, but the shadows refused to go away.

“We can’t leave, not anymore! Your friend saw to that! We will stay, for longer and longer. You can’t smoke our voices away. Nothing will block us out now! You wont rest...you won’t be at peace...you will remember us....forever...and forever....”

His eyes opened, and he saw above him a figure. At first glance, it was someone he remembered - his sister, blood dripping down from her neck.

“You killed me, Aeldon!” Her voice filled his ears.

He turned away, rubbed his eyes, and looked back. He saw Aurhia standing above him, in place of his sister. She was standing between him and Hifazat, and he knew such a battle would not end well with that monster. He tried to stand, but the pain was unbearable, but he couldn't let Aurhia fight him alone. For the first time in his life, he was helpless, and he hated it.

"Aurhia," he tried to say, "Aur...hi....a. Don’t worry....get out of here,"

He rolled over, looking now towards Hifazat, with a look of pure hatred in his eyes.

Aurhia fought the urge to glance back at the rogue, knowing that even an instant's distraction could be fatal for both of them.

She watched the warlock patiently, ready to counter any offensive move.

---

Chuckling to himself, Hifazat looked straight at Aurhia. "Hurt me all you want. The beast is beyond aid now. I would suggest you do your duty and aid a druid who has killed Keepers. It’s good to know we have such loyal members now.

"First traitors, and now Horde-lovers. A pathetic bunch indeed. You lot insult the memory of Keepers who gave their lives defending these lands. If I could, I would kill you both for defending this wretch." Hifazat brushed past Aurhia without further comment, heading out of the room.

Aurhia watched the warlock leave the room warily. Under her breath, she responded to his words. "If I could, I would be killing you for attacking Aeldon, so I guess we are being even."

When she was sure he had gone, she turned on her heel and knelt next to her friend.

"You are being alive still down here, yes?" she asked, smiling at the rogue reassuringly. "That was being very brave. Very stupid, but very brave."

---

Felora's arrival could not be the byproduct of anything good. In fact, Faquarl was sure that she would not have come back unless she had no other choice. He didn't know whether her arrival was a blessing or a curse, nor did he much care. Nothing good could come from this, he decided. Besides, his masters would not be pleased with Faquarl's departure for a simple tauren girl. Still... Felora looked afraid as ever even with her finding him. Perhaps he would stay a little while longer to keep her company until she would find her way back.

"Take an apple." Faquarl gestured to the pile below the tree. Felora stared at him like he was alien to her world. It was expected – he, of course, was dead. Nodding his head toward the apples once more seemed to release Felora from her daze. She walked slowly to the pile of apples and picked one up.

"I.... it's good to see you sir." Felora said, staring at the apple in her hands.

"Yes well, I won't say I'm not surprised to meet again, but please, cease with this ‘sir’ business. I have no time for it. Precious few call me ‘sir’ these days and you do not wish to be thrown in with that lot. How long do you expect you will be staying?"

"I don't know." She took a bite from her apple and chewed thoughtfully. When she had swallowed she looked back up. "Where are we?"

"In the Emerald Dream, of course," Faquarl smiled at his stab at humor, then sobered himself soon after. "However within the Dream we are about where Arathi once was, breadbasket of the humans in your world."

"I was expecting to find the Nightmare."

"Yes, I wouldn't blame you," he said, his eyes darting to her hand that was wounded so long ago. "The Nightmare has not progressed this way. You will find it mostly congregating around your Northrend and Silithus."

Felora let out a sigh of relief at this but then looked up perceptively. "Why is that apple tree dying then?"

Faquarl looked up at the limbs once again, which were now beginning to rot as the brown leaves started to fall. "Even though the Nightmare is contained, it still sends heralds to the unclaimed lands. The effect of these heralds does leave a mark. That should not concern you, though. Have a seat; I am sure you have many questions and I could use the company of a free thinker."

The two tauren sat on the soft grass underneath the shade of the dying apple tree. Faquarl muttered some words and the tree bent forward and some of its dead limbs fell off between them. Faquarl nodded and the tree resumed its straightened position. Looking at the wood, Faquarl muttered, "Reth ignon," and the wood was set ablaze. Smiling he looked back to Felora, preparing himself for conversation that he had not been able to have since life on Azeroth.

---

It was almost too surreal.

Faquarl seemed to have changed; he had always been proud, even slightly arrogant, with a sharp wit and a sharp tongue to match. In the weeks before his death, Felora had never seen him so weary beneath the weight of his burdens. He had never been particularly close to anyone, even herself, and so had no one to open up to.

But here, in the Dream, he appeared more content than she ever remembered. Seated across from her as he was, it almost felt as though they were back in Taugrek's Stand, as though he had never left her.

She considered the apple that she held as Faquarl glanced at her from across the little fire, with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"If you have questions, Felora, here is your opportunity to ask them," he said, gesturing broadly with his hands. "I have neither the reason nor the compulsion to keep secrets."

A million questions danced behind her lips. She found herself smiling at him.

"I have learned much from you - learned about the world around me, learned about my clan, learned about myself."

She brought her violet gaze to meet his. "But I know nothing about you."

"I wanted it that way," he said. "You didn't need another reason to stay by my side, Fel, and I could not allow my past weaknesses to affect my duty as Warlord. It was best for me to be the silent overseer. In a way it was also to protect you, protect you from following my footsteps and staying within my shadow."

She frowned at him. "No, it took your death and departure from the waking world to accomplish that."

Remnants of her feelings of anger and betrayal began to surface amidst her simmering fear, and she quickly squelched them. Her eyes still darted away, minding the shadows that floated at the edge of her vision. Faquarl's voice brought her back to herself.

"What's done is done, Felora."

"Aye. I know."

She sighed and looked at him. "Was I wrong to bury you in Maraudon, sir?"

The title slipped out before she could catch it. She took a quick breath before continuing.

"I only remembered that you spoke of it often. But you speak now as though it was the last place that you would have wanted to be put to rest."

Faquarl gave a heavy sigh and stared into Felora's eyes searchingly. He snorted to clear his nose before answering, trying to find the words he wanted. "You did a very kind thing. You risked going into the heart of centaur lands to bury me. After I’d been buried, I awoke within this place feeling as though only mere seconds had passed after I'd been shot. I prepared myself for battle as though I was still in Netherstorm."

Faquarl took a stick and started poking the fire to keep the flame alight before continuing. "I suppose you should know a few simple truths. I was not perhaps the most altruistic of our kind. Desolace holds a different life for me entirely, a life of passion and commitment. My time as Warlord for the Grin was a service; my time as Chieftain of the Swiftpride was an honor.

"My final day as Chieftain of that tribe ended in bloodshed within the halls of Maraudon. My entire tribe was killed by the centaur - even those most dear to me could not be protected. So in a way it is fitting for my grave to be found there, immersed in my life's greatest shame. Well, perhaps not the greatest shame, but one of them."

Faquarl's face was pensive, closed. Felora looked down, an epiphany rolling over her. He had trapped himself inside one painful event that he couldn't prevent, and in doing so, had kept himself from ever opening himself or his heart again. The guilt had ridden him all these years.

In a way, he knew exactly how she felt when she had lost him to this place. He had never been hers to lose.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I had no idea."

"Don't be sorry. There was nothing that you could do. Nothing that anyone could do."

She nodded, suddenly feeling that she had needed this - this closure, this understanding, this distraction from her paralyzing fear. She looked at him.

"Nothing remains of it now, your tribe," she said, her voice soft. "You were the last."

He said nothing, the flames reflecting in his eyes as he stared at them. Felora nearly reached out to him but caught herself and instead shifted her weight, one hand on the grass beside her. In his presence, her fear was dissipating despite knowing where she truly was. Had she been able to hear what was going on around her body that might not have been the case. She admitted to herself that she wasn't quite sure how she'd come out of the Dream the first time, and knowing that...how was she to come back now?

---

The air crackled with energy. Ashenrock barked commands at random grots in preparation for the upcoming battle. Rock was a bit pensive. He had no idea just what the plan was yet. He prayed to Therazane that one of the rogues would return with information that would help him formulate an attack plan...and soon.

Yagyu approached the Warchief. "You don't know what we're gonna do yet, do ya boss?"

Ashenrock grimaced, but said without pause, "I know exactly what we're going to do, Yagyu. We're going to rescue Felora."

Yagyu laughed and adjusted his chestplate. "Well at least that plan should be easy enough fer the grots ta follow!"

He planted his hand firmly on his Warchief's shoulder. "One way or another, wer gettin her outta, there." He then turned and walked off.

As Rock went back to overseeing his troops he heard someone yell from the gate. "Rider approaching! Mortael incoming!"

It was music to the tauren's ears. He only hoped that Mortael had something to report.

---

Mortael could hardly keep himself in the saddle. The last leg of the trip had been possible only because Ammorachius was so well-trained. The rogue rested his hand on the neck of his mount and willed him onward.

The sight of Stonard was a blessing; a reprieve from a near week of sleepless days and nights. He could see Ashenrock and Yagyu standing in the entryway watching him approach. He was glad they were waiting; he didn’t think that he would make it much further.

As he approached the Warchief and Warlord he slid out of his saddle and managed a weak salute. Ashenrock looked on him with concern.

“Mortael, tell me you have information.”

Mortael breathed in deep and steadied himself against the wooden palisade before speaking softly, “Sir, I do…..Felora….kept in the crypt…..wasn’t there when we looked at first….killed a guard….it was an accident….infighting amongst the Keepers….time to get her back.”

The rogue heard Ashenrock begin to say Yagyu’s name but that was all. He felt his body go slack and his mind slip away into blissful nothingness. His mission was complete, he had earned his sleep.

---

Yagyu and Ashenrock lurched to catch the rogue as he passed out from exhaustion. Calling a few grots from within the courtyard they quickly carried Mortael to his quarters. His task was complete and he would need his rest before the battle to come.

Yagyu looked at Ashenrock and knew that he must be feeling the same anticipation he was at that moment. Finally they had the information they needed. They knew where the Seer was and it would be time to get her back. The sounds of ringing metal and the murmuring of the troops was a calming effect upon the orc as he listened with a sort of detached reverie.

For some reason his thoughts drifted back in time to an earlier fight with the Keepers, when the Bhurkas had kidnapped one of their own. Little Pinky Stickyfingers had been rescued just in the nick of time by Yammie and Gixxer and a swarm of angry warriors from Stromgarde. Yagyu now thought upon them and that battle in the Burning Steppes as he absently tightened the straps on his hauberk. He wondered - did those gnomes feel then as he felt now? Did they feel the same gnawing emptiness in the pit of their stomach? That feeling of impending doom that somehow told them that no matter what the result of the battle, nothing would ever be the same again for the kidnapped or for the rescuers?

Yagyu shook his head as Ashenrock's voice woke him from his thoughts. He must be getting old. He never would have thought so much in the old days.

"Prepare everyone you can muster, Yagyu, and let them know that they have six hours to rest. We strike the Keepers as the sun sets," the Warchief said to him. Yagyu simply nodded as Ashenrock turned his steady gaze from his Warlord to the courtyard and strode purposefully into Stonard.

Clear your mind. Concentrate. Rally the troops. Make sure the Warchief’s orders are followed. Find Felora. Bring her out safely. Slaughter the Keepers.

This was his mission; his purpose. The orc closed his eyes and pulled a deep breath in though his nose. Slowly he opened them and walked back into Stonard to begin preparing the Grin for battle. An excitement was in the air and he suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline race through his veins. He beat his fists on his chestplate as he roared out a challenge to the Keepers of Stromgarde and a lone human adventurer passing through the swamp of sorrows heard the roar in the distance and his blood ran cold. Turning back along the path he ran towards the safety of Duskwood.

---

The grots carried Mortael to his quarters; he would be fine. Rock turned to Yagyu and found the orc lost in his thoughts. Ashenrock sighed in relief as he grasped the magnitude of what Mortael had told him. Felora was alive and in the crypts of the Keep.

It wouldn't be an easy endeavor to retrieve her, but he was already formulating a plan. Ashenrock headed to his quarters. He would need a sharp mind for this offensive.

---

"I donno' like it"

Stonemug pounded his mail boots across the floor, his frustration mounting with each step.

"We shoulda 'eard somethin' more by now." He glanced at the bemused Danath Trollbane, standing patiently behind his desk.

"Messengers get lost all the time, my good dwarf, especially if they must pass the Dark Portal."

Danath spared him a grim smile. The problem, he realized, wasn't a lack of news, but a lack of action. This hunter was never calm behind the walls of Honor Keep. Only outside, where he could prowl the landscape looking for prey, did this one ever seem comfortable.

"Perhaps we should send word to Stromgarde - at the very least, an accounting of the new troops and their actions here would not go amiss with the Prince. I cannot spare a large troop, of course, but perhaps a single individual might sneak past the demons and reach the steps?" Danath let the question hang in the air.

Stonemug smiled, snapping a salute. "Aye, that they might. An' I've just the man fer the job. Me."

Danath nodded, having well expected the answer.

"Take news to Stromgarde then, and return quickly with any further orders the Prince may wish to impart." Danath waved a dismissal, and Stonemug turned on his heels, heading to the barracks to prepare.

---

Insects buzzed noisily over the still water, unsettled only a moment by the stealthy passing of a crockalisk just under the surface. Stonemug waited patiently for the creature to pass by, waiting nearly invisible in the tall plants.

The passage from Honor Hold to the Dark Portal across the fire-scarred land of Hellfire Penninsula wasn't nearly as bad as the mucky silence of the Swamp of Sorrows. At least in Hellfire, you saw the enemy from a far away, with plenty of time to line up a shot before the stalking demons were on you. Here, everything lay in hiding until the last second, a landscape of concealed predators poised to strike in a moment's notice. Still, the hunter knew this ground well - he'd stalked the swamps many times as a lad, learning his trade by tracking the dangerous crocs and cats of the mire.

Now, of course, it was infinitely more dangerous than those early days. Another species had come into the Swamp and despoiled the natural habitat.

Across the water, Stonemug could just barely make out the mud road to Stonard. A scout from the fort had passed a few minutes ago, forcing the dwarf to take shelter amongst the concealing vines. He was dangerously close to the fort now - could almost make out the vile smell of orcs that seemed to drip continuously from the place.

Stonemug slid slowly from his hiding place, passing into the stream much like the crocs, so that the slow ripple of water would seem as natural a part of the swamp as that predator to any that marked it. He crossed the water quick and silent as a water snake, pulling himself up slowly along the roots of a willow tree on the other side. A noise from the road alarmed him, and he bounded up the tree to the concealing canopy above, setting his foot in a small crack to steady himself and grasping bow and arrow.

The labored breath of a horse in full gallop down the treacherous road resounded in Stonemug's ear, as he braced himself and took aim. This was no place for a battle, he quickly decided - the closeness to Stonard meant any shout or scream might quickly bring many troops. Stealth alone would be an ally here, and so he held his shot as the rider came suddenly into view.

Luck was with him, he decided, for the ride pushed his horse at such a pace, focusing intently on his destination, that both swept past the hunter's tree without notice. Stonemug could barely make out the rider's features, though it seemed to provoke to him a memory of one of the Grin's veritable army of rogues. Stonemug frowned suddenly - the Grin's killers always seemed a careful, patient bunch. For one to be racing so haphazardly through the swamp, caring nothing for his mount's health or the dangerous predators lurking just off the road, meant the rider was on an errand of great importance.

And that was never good for the Keepers.

The rider was out of range now; Stonemug cursed and pulled himself slowly out onto a branch, further into the tree. From here, the mossy towers of Stonard could be seen peaking out of the swamps dense vegetation. Stonemug squinted his eyes carefully, calling up the primal aspects of hunting birds, and casting his vision towards the turrents. The courtyard focused into view. The hunter quickly noticed the towering form of Ashenrock standing by the entrance, with his pet orc Yagyu nearby. The rider pushed through the gate, seemed for a moment to speak, and then collapsed. Unfortunately, Stonemug could make nothing of the expressions of the two Grin.

Then, suddenly, the calm quiet of the swamp was broken by a great voice, and Stonemug had his answer. Yagyu beat his chest and shouted, which Stonemug could clearly make out, and the words, though mouthed in the harsh gutteral noises of the orc were familiar enough.

A challenge to the Keepers....the Grin were preparing for war.

A sudden movement to his left snapped Stonemug from his concentration, and the hunter twisted to aim. Again the arrow stayed put, as a bewildered human, probably from Darkshire by his look, tore past the tree and sped down the road with a look of terror etched across his face. Stonemug smiled wryly for a moment. "Aye...Yagyu 'as that af'ct on people." Understanding the wisdom of the human's course, Stonemug caught the edge of the branch and swung down, allowing himself to drop the last few feet into the soft mud.

If the Grin were moving, he would have to put a huge distance between himself and this place, and could only hope to reach the Keep a few hours ahead of their advanced parties. Keeping to the side of the road, hoping the shifting water of the swamp would wipe the tracks of his passage, Stonemug set a brutal pace towards the gap of Deadwind.

---

Aeldon managed to smile back at Aurhia, still shaken by the onrush of images bombarding his mind.

"Thanks....I guess..." he finally said, struggling to his feet.

He swayed around on his feet, dizzy and with a pounding migraine, and managed to find a wall to lean against. He grasped his head, clenching his eyes shut as he tried to block the visions from his sight.

"Being hurt still, are you?" Aurhia asked.

"Oh...uh, no, not at all. Tend to the prisoner, do what you can for her. I'll head up top and get her moved out of the Crypt..."

He rushed out of the door and moved to the light of the sun above him, the sudden rush of light overwhelming his sight and sending him back onto the ground. It took him awhile to get back to his feet, and he balanced enough on his feet to begin making his way to the Princes chamber. He would do what he could to transfer the prisoner before the Grin could find her.

---

(Continued in Part 3)