The Lore of Poldaran: Chapter 8: Underneath the Guilty SkyFollow

"Only the sounds of lost hope seem to increase,
I threw away everything to be here now.

Like an eternally-blooming flower’s beauty,
The persistent feelings continued to blossom in my heart.
The dying love, the cruel dream,
I embraced tightly the neverending remorse."

-Kosaka Riyu, Danzai no Hana

Prologue:
Lisa paced around her living room, as she had been doing for hours. "Lass, have a seat. Worrying a hole in the floor isn't going to do any good for your daughter." The speaker was a young Dwarven woman with blond braids. "Guthrum Thunderfist himself has flown out north to the Elven lands to find out what malady affects the elves here. He'll find out what's making your daughter sick more quickly than anyone else possibly could."

Lisa sighed and sat down on one of the large leather chairs. "Thanks, Nioma. Nonetheless, I still worry."

"It's only natural for a mother to worry when her child is ill. At least your human nature has left you untouched by whatever illness struck the Elves, and since your daughter is only half-Elven, she does not seem to be suffering as badly as the others."

"She still will not wake, Nioma. That is cause enough for worry." The two sat silent for a few minutes, but the silence was broken by the sound of a crash outside. "In the name of the Eye, what in Azeroth was that?" They rushed outside to find a large bronze drake dead in the garden. "What is one of the Bronze Flight doing flying over my house?" Lisa asked no one in particular.

"Lass, come quick!" Nioma called out. "Someone's hurt over here!"

Lisa rushed over to find the dwarf kneeling over a young woman covered in blood. At least, Lisa thought she was young. The woman had hair as white as the snow that covered the ground all around the mountains held by the Dwarves of Ironforge. At least, the hair that wasn't caked with blood was white. The girl was covered with what appeared to be wounds from giant claws. With her finger, Lisa checked the girl's pulse. "It's weak. She won't last long like this. We need to get her inside and deal with these wounds. Help me carry her."

Lisa worked for hours to clean and stitch the woman's wound, and even used an intravenous healing potion to help replace some of the lost blood. Afterwards, Lisa changed from her bloodied clothes and went to the kitchen to wash up.

"How is the girl?" Nioma asked.

"It's too early to be certain, but I think she'll live. It was touch and go for a bit there."

"I've seen people in much better condition die," Nioma said. "You never told me you were a surgeon."

"I was, a long time ago. Almost in another life. When 'Isa's father died, I gave up on my medical studies." She smiled wryly. "In truth, I had only taken up studying medicine so I could be near him. He was a soldier in Silvermoon's army, and I figured that if I could be a field surgeon, I could be near him."

"But you're a mage...why not fight at his side?"

"Killing was never in my nature, I guess. And, unfortunately, healing magic wasn't something I had a talent for, so if I wanted to help out, I needed to find another way. Thankfully, I had a gift for medicine."

"I see." A loud rushing sound, like that of a heavy gust of wind, came from the bedroom where the injured girl was resting. "What was that?"

"Whomever was chasing her might have found her. We have to check on her!" The two women rushed to the bedroom and flung open the door. They were not really prepared for what they saw.

The young human woman was sitting up in bed, shaking her head as if just groggy from a nap. All the blood was gone and nothing seemed out of place except for the fact that the woman's eyes were glowing pale blue. "Hi there," the woman said. "I suppose I should thank you for stitching me up. Thought I was a goner there."

The dwarf looked at her in bewilderment. "Are you some kind of healer?"

"Heavens no," the girl said. "I'm more of an anti-healer, as it were. I make wounds worse, not better."

"Then how are you healed?"

"Simple trick, actually. I just saturated my body with magical energy and allowed my body to use it to increase my natural healing."

Lisa's jaw dropped. "You saturated your body with magic?! That's unbelievably dangerous."

"For most people, you'd be right," the girl said. "I, however, am not most people." The woman's stomach growled audibly. She blushed. "There are, however, some side effects."

In spite of her other worries, Lisa laughed. "Come then, let's go fix you something to eat."

The young woman wolfed down the plate of leftover venison and potatoes that Lisa served her, making a horrible mess in the process. Lisa was reminded of her daughter, Nagisa, who always told her that "a lady should be more elegant" whenever Lisa failed to use proper table manners. She would have laughed at the thought, but thinking of her sick daughter just made her worry more.

"So, stranger, what should we call you?" the dwarf asked the young woman who was draining a third glass of cider.

"That's an excellent question, but not one I can answer. At least, I can't answer it truthfully."

"This has something to do with the Keeper outside, doesn't it?" Lisa asked.

"So you know about the Bronze Flight? I take it you're the mage that erected that invisibility barrier surrounding this place, then?"

"Yes," Lisa said with a nod. "I'm a former denizen of Dalaran. Now I live out here with my daughter."

The woman looked at the dwarf skeptically. "I'm sorry, I just don't see the resemblance." She thought about it for a moment. "In fact, now that I think about it, I've met this dwarf's parents, so you obviously can't mean her."

"You've met my parents?"

"Yep. Years ago...no, I mean, years from now. Dammit. I don't know why I put myself through this. It gets so confusing when things you've already done haven't happened yet."

"So I take it you're a time traveler, then?" Lisa asked.

"Indeed. Since you're from Dalaran, I take it you know that means I can't tell you a whole lot." The woman sighed. "In fact, I should really get going. If those bastards followed me all the way from Silvermoon, I don't want them to find me here. It would mean trouble for you."

"Wait! You came from Silvermoon?!"

"Yes. Why?"

"My daughter's ill. She collapsed earlier today. The whole Elven village collapsed as well. We sent someone up to Silvermoon to find out if they knew of a malady only affecting elves, but he hasn't returned yet."

"Wait, your daughter is an elf?"

"Half elven, actually."

"And this all happened earlier today?" Lisa nodded. "Take me to her. I think I know what's wrong." Upon reaching the room, the woman looked at Nagisa for a few moments, though her eyes lingered on the girl's red hair. She sighed.

"What is it?"

"My hair is supposed to be that color," the woman said. "It got bleached by some horrible magic I got mixed up in. Time to fix it." Within a moment, the woman's hair matched Nagisa's in color. "Much better."

"I wasn't asking about your hair. I want to know if you know what's wrong with my daughter."

"Oh, that. It's just as I suspected. She's experiencing magic withdrawal. She'll be fine in a day or two, though she'll be incredibly weak without a source of magic to feed on."

"I don't understand. My daughter can't even use magic yet. How can she be addicted?"

The woman sighed. "Well, I guess it can't hurt to tell you. The Sunwell was attacked today and is no longer feeding the Quel'dorei with the magic they've come to rely on. Without it, they're all very ill. Being half elven, your daughter is getting off pretty lucky, actually. Others may not survive this."

"What happened to the Sunwell? Were you injured while protecting it?"

"Not exactly. It's a lot more complicated than that. I can't tell you. In fact, I've probably told you too much already. Sometimes, though, I have to wonder if what I'm doing is actually the right thing to do." She sighed. "Oh well, let's see about helping your daughter." The woman rooted around her backpack. "There it is!" she exclaimed, pulling a red gem from the pack.

"That's a Cardinal Ruby!" Lisa exclaimed. "Those are extremely rare and expensive!"

"I got this one at a discount," the woman said. She pulled a small pack of tools from her bag and went to work cutting the gem. A minute or so later, she had finished. "I've modified a common cut of this gem so that instead of boosting magical power it will take in magic from the air around her and feed it to her in a small but steady stream. It needs to be on her wrist at all times to work. The flow of life energy through her body will carry the magic where it needs to go. You can bandage it on there for now, but eventually you'll want to get it set into a bracelet."

"Thank you so much." A thought occurred to her. "What should I do about the villagers?"

"They're full elves. This won't work for them. They'll need a much stronger source of magic. Kael'thas Sunstrider will work to find one for them in time. I've probably already said too much. I really must get going."

And without a sound, both she and the corpse in the garden were gone.

** * **

"We cannot sit on this any further, Rhonin. The girl must be brought in. Every second we delay leads us that much closer to ruin!"

"Ansirem, we can't just go making accusations of that seriousness," Modera said. "We don't know what the dream means. Even if it is a prophecy, who is to say it's a vision of things that will happen and not of things that may happen?"

"I'm tired of your constant idiotic support of this woman, Modera. What did she do to sway you? You used to be one of the most steadfast supporters of bringing her to justice, and now you defend her? What was the price of your honor?"

"I will not sit here and listen to you call my honor into question. I have stated my reasons for my change of heart before."

"And surely it has nothing to do with the anonymous donation you received to help you start that school of yours..."

Rhonin, leader of the Kirin Tor, could take no more bickering. "That is enough. Both of you will hold your tongues." He turned to their visitor. "What do you have to say on the matter, Jaina? You've known the girl in question for some time, so your input may be valuable."

"I'm not sure, to be honest. We have been able to get no response from the Wyrmrest Temple regarding the matter, nor have we been able to locate the girl to speak with her. Without any input from her or the dragons, we may be forced to act on incomplete information, which is further complicated by Silvermoon's threat to cut ties with Dalaran after they uncovered evidence that she may have not only been involved in the attack on Silvermoon, but may have played a direct role in the defilement of the Sunwell itself."

"That's ludicrous!" Modera interjected. "Records of the time in question clearly place her as a young apprentice here in Dalaran!"

Rhonin thought for a moment. "That is true. But she has displayed an affinity for temporal magics and may have traveled back in time. Unfortunately, requests to the Bronze Flight to look into the matter have fallen on deaf ears. We may be forced to act on the assumption that she may have actually been involved."

"Silvermoon certainly won't make it easy for you to sit on this until you get some answers," Jaina Proudmoore added. "If they sever ties, the Horde will do the same. Dalaran will likely lose its neutrality and be drawn into the apparently inevitable coming war between the Alliance and the Horde. That, of course, assumes that Varian doesn't cut ties as well, since he's not taking reports of Poldaran's apparent betrayal of the living well."

Modera's shoulders drooped, defeated. "Do whatever you want," she said. "I wash my hands of this."

Rhonin considered everything again. He just could not see another way out. "So be it. Contact our allies and tell them that Poldaran the Lichborn has been declared an Enemy of the Living by Dalaran. She is to be apprehended at all costs. Alive if possible, but dead if necessary. May the Light forgive us if we're wrong."

** * **

Colonel Keynes was not happy about his current assignment. An entire regiment to sent to find a single woman? It was ludicrous. And worse, they weren't the only ones searching. Both the Alliance and the Horde were dedicating forces to finding this single mage. But more than that, Dalaran and the Argent Crusade and Ebon Blade folks were sending some of their most highly trained specialists on the hunt. Rumor had it that Alexandrine the Merciful and Azmaria the Shadow Blade were leading a team searching in Kalimdor, Sharlot the Life Warder and Envinyata the Dark Priestess were hunting for the girl in the Eastern Kingdoms, and Yoxutre the Righteous was overseeing the search in Northrend. Formidable people indeed just to hunt down one suspected traitor. Not only that, but his contact in SI: 7 had told him that the king had personally ordered the Warlocks of Stormwind to send their members as well, since hunting mages was their specialty.

All of this lent credence to the rumors that the unnamed mage they were hunting was indeed the Lichborn. This terrified Keynes more than he could say because he had heard of her exploits. If she had indeed turned to the Scourge, it was a crippling blow to the Alliance's efforts in Northrend. He had seen what that girl could do first hand, and if she had turned, it would be a major blow to Keynes' confidence as well.

As he walked through the library, Keynes spotted a girl he did not recognize from his time stationed in this town. She had blond hair, which did not fit the description he had been given, but since he was looking for a mage, he suspected that minor appearance details could be altered, so he figured he should at least give her more than a quick glance.

The girl noticed him looking. "Is there something I can help you with?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, miss. We're looking for someone and I had to be sure you didn't match her description." Keynes decided that this girl looked no more than seventeen, and thus couldn't be the person he was looking for.

A look of concern crossed her face. "Is the woman you're searching for a dangerous fugitive? A suspected Cultist or the like?"

Keynes decided not to alarm the girl. "No, nothing like that. We just believe that she might have some information regarding a case we're investigating."

"Thank goodness," the girl said with relief. "Mother told me that this place would be dangerous and I was afraid that she might be right."

"Valiance Keep is one of our frontline fortifications against the Scourge," Keynes responded. "What brings you out here, miss?"

"Dearie me," she said. "Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. My name's Amanda. I had heard that any books found out in the ruins in Northrend were being brought here," she said. "I work for the Royal Library in Stormwind and I wanted to come check them out first hand to see what we could use before letting any of those Explorer's League goons get their hands on them."

Keynes laughed. It was good to see that life was continuing despite the war. When he finished chuckling, he noticed something. "Miss, you don't look well. Is everything alright?"

She smiled wanly. "I just haven't been feeling well for a few days. I think the soup on the boat ride over tasted funny and I've been having trouble holding down anything the last few days. Between that and the lack of sleep it has caused, I must look a sight. A few of the others on the boat got sick as well, but it didn't last as long for them. I'll be fine, though I thank you for your concern. I just wish the headaches would go away."

A voice shouted from behind them. "Colonel, get away from that woman! She's the one we're looking for!"

The girl sighed. "You should do as he says." She turned and saw that the man who had spoken was wearing silver Titansteel full plate armor emblazoned with the crest of the Argent Crusade and a pair of red goggles. "Truesight goggles? Really?" She sighed again and released the spell that held her in her younger form, becoming instead a young woman with fiery red hair in a blue satin robe emblazoned with a burning phoenix.

Keynes jumped back. It was her! Poldaran the Lichborn was indeed the fugitive they sought! He looked at the man who had spoken. Now that the goggles had been removed, Lord Yoxutre's gaze was steeled with resolve. "Poldaran, you're under arrest for treason to the living. Do not resist and make this harder on yourself."

"You know these charges are false."

"I don't know anything. There's evidence of your involvement in the attack on Silvermoon City. Dozens of reputable mages report seeing visions of you pledging your fealty to the Scourge. And I myself saw you summon the Val'kyr, which answer only to the Lich King. What am I supposed to think?"

"You of all people should know that things aren't always what they seem. You were there when we protected Medivh as he unleashed the Horde upon us. You were there when we freed Thrall. You were there when we protected Arthas as he cut the life from the citizens of Stratholme!"

"So you claim your presence at Silvermoon was on the behalf of the Bronze Flight? What of the vision, and the Val'kyr?"

"The vision is but one possible future," she said. She looked at the ground, somewhat ashamed. "The Val'kyr...I can't tell you. The truth is worse than what you believe, but you have to trust me, I am not working with the Scourge! I'm trying to find a way to avert a prophecy and keep myself from that exact fate!"

"What reason have we to trust you? You've betrayed us all! How long have you been a pawn of the Scourge? Did Nihlus die just to satisfy your lust for power?!"

Poldaran's gaze snapped towards him. Her eyes were filled with pain and anger. "I didn't deserve that," she said coldly, and then she was gone.

** * **

Of all the places he could be spending his afternoon, this was the last place Yadier expected to be. "Greeting, Modera. Might I ask why you've called me here?" he asked, indicating the large auditorium they were observing from balcony seating on one wall.

"Must my motives be suspect when I invite a colleague to attend the school's Culture Festival?" Archmage Modera, founder and headmistress of the Dalaran Magical Academy asked innocently.

"I don't have time for one of your fundraising attempts. If you don't give me a reason to stay here, I'm leaving."

Modera placed her hand over her mouth and whispered, barely audible to Yadier. "Not yet. Someone is listening in. Make small talk for a few moments while my security deals with it."

That intrigued Yadier. "So, what's this Culture Festival thing about, anyway?"

"This is a chance for our students to show off their artistic talents...painting, sculpture, music, theater, that kind of thing."

"I thought this was a school of magic. Why would you need to have some kind of exhibition like this?"

"In truth, much of the purpose of this event is to help raise funds for the school. However, we feel that just teaching the children about magic would be too spartan. We want our young men and women to learn and thrive with a balanced education. Many of these young people are the sons and daughters of noble houses, and as such these skills, as well as etiquette, math and history classes, may serve them more than their magic training."

"An interesting approach. Are they still getting enough magical training?"

"In most cases, we think so. The academy was founded to solve the issue of too few apprentice masters being available, but that still means each child is not getting quite the one-on-one training the old system offered. However, we've eliminated the busy work that most masters used to give their apprentices and have replaced it with more useful classes, so we feel it balances out that much at least."

"In most cases? You mean there are times it isn't enough?"

"There are some children whom I believe would benefit from a greater amount of training. Most are simply having trouble grasping concepts, though there is one special case where the child is brilliant but somehow just cannot conjure up the simplest spell."

"You're sure to test them for magical aptitude, right?"

"Of course. We're not idiots. No, this girl I'm talking about has been tested and rates as having nearly off the chart magical aptitude, but she just can't seem to cast spells." Modera looked down at the auditorium. "In fact, that's her walking onto the stage right now."

Yadier looked out and saw a girl of approximately fourteen on the stage. She was walking slowly and with a decorum he was not used to seeing on children. Neither the skirt nor collar of her uniform fluttered with the movement. Her red hair was drawn back in a ponytail and he could see her short pointed ears. "A half elf?" he asked.

"Indeed. We think that might be the problem with her gift not manifesting itself. Little is known about half elves. Until recently, even their existence was frowned upon and shunned by the masses, but thanks to Rhonin's marriage to Vereesa Windrunner, such things are much more accepted here in Dalaran. No, Nagisa rarely has problems with other students because of her lineage, but that's not to say the other students are kind to her. She is, after all, the only student here at the Academy that cannot conjure a single spell, despite having the highest marks in her magical theory classes."

"Why would being half-elven affect her ability to conjure magic?"

"Half elves mature more slowly than elves or humans do, so we suspect that her gift just hasn't actually surfaced yet." On the stage, the girl began to sing. It was an enchanting aria. Modera looked at Yadier. "I just got the signal. It's safe for us to talk."

"So, what is this really about?"

"I need to talk to you about Poldaran."

"I might have known. What is it?"

"Do you actually believe that she could be as horrible as they're claiming."

Yadier thought about it for a moment. "No, I think we're misinterpreting something here."

"You might be right, but it's hard to mistake what's happening in that dream a lot of us had."

He nodded. "That's true, but I don't think that's the full dream, unless the reports I'm hearing are missing the ending."

Modera's curiosity was piqued. "Missing the ending?"

"Poldaran told me about this dream. Apparently she's been having it for months. She said that it had always felt unfinished, until she managed to see the entire thing the morning Nihlus died, just a few hours before."

"What was the ending?"

"You're not going to like it." He took a deep breath. "She pledges her loyalty to the Scourge and then strikes, knocking Frostmourne from the Lich King's hand. She then uses it to slay him. But something goes wrong and she becomes infused with the Lich King's spirit, making her into a worse monster than Arthas ever was. Then the world becomes covered in death."

Modera gasped. "That's horrible! Maybe they are right to try to stop her."

"I'm not so sure of that. We've had reports of her being spotted at numerous libraries throughout Azeroth. She seems to be looking up prophecies, perhaps trying to avert this one. If we interfere, we may just doom her, and us, to the fate we're trying to avoid."

"I hadn't thought of that before."

"Most people haven't. So let me ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"Why have you suddenly decided to support her? You used to be one of the most ardent supporters of the effort to imprison or execute Poldaran."

"In truth, she was never really my target. I was directing my hatred and frustration for letting Kel'thuzad escape towards his daughter, who had not committed any actual crimes. When she brought him down, I realized how foolish I was being and grew up a little."

"I see," Yadier replied. The two sat in silence for a moment, listening to the beautiful song the red haired elven maiden was singing.

"And even though sometimes the clouds hang low and the sun's light grows dim, I will walk with my head held high for I know that behind those dark clouds lays the blue sky," Nagisa sang, finishing the song.

The auditorium filled with applause and Yadier found himself wiping away a single tear. "A beautiful sentiment," he said. He hoped that wherever they were, his friends all walked with their heads held high, despite the coming storm.

Edited, Aug 6th 2010 1:46pm by Poldaran Lock Thread: It's my damn thread, dammit.

Edited, Aug 18th 2010 3:25am by Poldaran

Poldaran had to admit it. The sky in Netherstorm was beautiful. She felt like she could sit on this cliff for hours and just stare off into the distance, enjoying the flowing lights that played throughout the vast expanse. "It's as good a place as any to stop for lunch," she said to herself, pulling some bread and hard cheese out of her bag.

As she closed her bag, she noticed that she only had two vials of Dreamless Sleep Potion left. Since Nihlus' death, the potions were the only way she could sleep at all. Even then, the dreams still sat at the edge of her mind, trying to find a way into even the deep sleep she had induced. The trip out into the Twisting Nether would take several days, which would mean that she would likely be spending the latter few days without any sleep and would probably return exhausted.

She sighed as she bit into the cheese. "It's not like I haven't gone days without sleep before. Still..." she trailed off. It was going to be a long week.

She ate in silence for another fifteen or so minutes, lost in the sights of the sky around her. She was so lost in thought that she did not even notice the sudden arrival of someone behind her. "Hello, Poldaran," its voice said, echoing melodiously within her mind.

Poldaran groaned. "Not one of the snowflakes," she said under her breath. "Hello, Xi'ri," she replied, recognizing the voice.

"You haven't visited us in a long time," Xi'ri accused. "I have come to fear that you blame us for Kael'thas' death."

Poldaran shook her head. "No, I don't blame you, nor do I blame A'dal. His Highness sealed his own fate. It's just that visits to Shattrath bring back so many bad memories that I don't like to go there, and when I do go, I don't like to stay. You always insist that I stay a few days to visit, so I haven't been stopping by."

"Perhaps I understand. You must know that we ask you to stay because it does such good for the morale of the Shattered Sun to see you present. You're a hero to them. Everyone in Shattrath looks up to you."

Poldaran sighed. "I'm really no hero," she said. "I just happened to be there."

"That's where you're wrong, Poldaran. You may not think of yourself as a hero, but your actions and those of your friends have saved countless lives. Shattrath itself likely only stands because of what you have done. Never forget that to us, you're a true hero, one who stood as a light against the encroaching darkness. It is true you weren't the only light, but at times, when all other lights flickered, yours continued to burn bright. We will never forget it, and neither should you."

"It's possible that when the next darkness comes, I will be its center."

"Velen, leader of the Draenei, has kept us informed of the details of the prophecy at which you are the center. I believe that you will find a way to continue to burn brightly."

A single tear fell from Poldaran's eye. "Thank you, Xi'ri."

"Now, tell me, what brings you to Outland?"

"I have to go into the Twisting Nether," Poldaran said. "I must seek out one of the smiths the Nathrezim employed in the creation of the Lich King's armor and blade. A demonic prophecy I located in the library at the Exodar suggests that he may have knowledge that can aid me in the battle with the Lich King and that knowledge may just be the key to freeing myself from what fate currently has in store for me. So I came to Outland as a jumping off point, a faster way to get into the Nether."

"I see," Xi'ri responded. "Do you know the name of the smith you seek?"

"I'm afraid I do not. All I know is that he was the only Mo'arg on the project."

"Ah, yes, that one," Xi'ri said. "You may be in luck. Our intelligence suggests that he has returned to his old shop." A map of the Nether appeared in Poldaran's mind. "Affix this in your memory. He is there, where the two Nether mana streams intersect."

Poldaran didn't know what to say. "Thank you, Xi'ri. You've likely shaved several days off my trip."

The Naaru's mind beamed. "You're most welcome, Poldaran. You saved my life at the Black Temple, so while it is a little thing, I'm glad to have been able to help you." Poldaran sensed curiosity entering the mind of the Naaru. "Poldaran, I sense something foul within your pack, unlike anything I have sensed before. What is it you carry out into the Nether?"

"I am unsure as to whether I will need to pay anyone for information while I'm out there, so I brought something that, to the best of my knowledge, is only found on Azeroth to use as a trade."

"Oh?"

"Saronite bars, a metal warped by the black blood of the old god, Yogg-Saron. I figure an oddity such as this would be quite valuable."

"That is likely true, but please be careful. I cannot believe that handling it is wise."

"It's pretty much not wise at all," Poldaran said. "But I'll be fine. I have managed to resist a direct attack by the mind of Yogg-Saron, so I quite imagine being near the ore for a few days will not be a problem." She stood up and stretched. "I should probably get going, however. Thank you for the information, Xi'ri."

"Stay safe, Poldaran. And remember, if you need strength, the Light never forgets its champions."

She doubted that, but decided to say nothing. With a snap of her fingers she cast a simple summoning spell and a massive onyx nether drake appeared beside Poldaran. She mounted it and waved to Xi'ri. "Goodbye!" she said simply as she flew off into the Twisting Nether.

** * **

Yadier strolled down the path through the private park, the light breeze filling his nose with the fragrance of the flowering trees around him. In the distance he could hear singing coming from one of the nearby apartment buildings. He could barely make out some of the words, but he recognized the song. It was beautiful and tragic, a song about a young woman missing her lost love, a soldier who had died in the war. The voice of the woman singing captured the emotion of the song perfectly. The effect was enough to make his heart ache just a little for all those who had lost family in the war.

He found himself so entranced by the song that he did not notice the arrival of the person he had come here to meet. "It's quite heartbreaking," Archmage Modera said.

Yadier jumped at the sound of her voice. "Oh, hello Modera. You wanted to speak with me?"

"She often sings that song."

"Who?"

"The young woman you were just listening to. I often stroll through this park and listen to her. It really makes me think about the ramifications of all this fighting." She was silent for a moment and then spoke again. "So, I guess we should discuss why I called you here."

"I take it you have word on Poldaran?"

"Yes. However, that's not why I need your assistance, though I'd imagine that the two aren't completely unrelated."

This piqued Yadier's curiosity. "Go on," he said.

"We've received word from one of our agents that the Scourge is likely to do something big within Icecrown in the next week or so. Unfortunately, Rhonin and the others are hesitant to act."

"That is strange. Is this agent unreliable?"

"Far from it. He's one of the best. However, it is the nature of how he received his information that causes concern." She shook her head. "You might not believe this, but he was contacted by one of the Naaru."

This did surprise Yadier. "The Naaru? But why would they have knowledge about impending Scourge actions?" The realization suddenly hit him. "Poldaran," was all he said.

"That's precisely the conclusion the Six has reached. They are currently unwilling to act on intelligence given by Poldaran, so they're refusing to do anything, the stubborn idiots."

"So I take it you need me to do something in their place?"

"Gather your friends and head to the tournament. That wouldn't be too out of the ordinary, and the Kirin Tor could not interfere. Especially if Alexandrine or that Death Knight girl is still competing. It would be the only excuse you'd need, and then you would have put some formidable people in range to react if the Scourge makes a move."

"I see, though I do not get the feeling that this is everything you would ask of me."

Modera laughed. "Astute as always," she said. "You're right. I need you to deliver a letter for me to Tirion Fordring." She gave him a sealed envelope. "It details the intelligence we've received and asks him to aid me in reinforcing Icecrown by giving me an excuse to do so."

"How am I to get an audience with him? I imagine that he is very busy."

"As an old comrade of his, your brother could likely get a few moments of his time. Or perhaps you could ask one of the Poldaran's sisters to seek an audience with him. As contenders in the tourney, they might also be able to get his attention. Whatever you decide, do not involve the Silver Covenant. They'll likely report anything you do to the Kirin Tor, which could cause Rhonin to send someone to call you back here to explain yourself."

"Alright," Yadier said. "I'll do what I can."

"Good. I'll come by after a day or so looking for you. It'll give me an excuse to be there as well, since you've been helping me with issues regarding the academy."

** * **

Poldaran knocked lightly upon the door. "Come in!" a voice called from within. She entered the building. It was a smithy like any other. Aside from the fact that the tools were larger than those used by humans, she could have been in any smithy in Azeroth. But she wasn't in a normal smithy. This was one run by a Mo'arg smith of the Burning Legion. The smith looked at her for a moment. "At last. I was beginning to think that you were too stupid to find me."

Poldaran was surprised. "You were expecting me?"

"Of course. The prophecy told me to wait for a woman from Azeroth who bears two souls. So I have waited, though I did expect you sooner."

Poldaran was becoming even more confused. "Two souls?"

"It's an expression among the Gan'arg," the giant demon responded. "People who are at the center of a major decision point in a prophecy are said to have two souls. When the decision is made and fate continues down one of the paths in the fork, one soul is said to be destroyed. This is how we believe people can choose to live with decisions that go against their character thus far. I had always assumed that it was a figure of speech, but it appears to be more literal than I thought," he said, tapping his glowing monocle.

That would certainly explain how Poldaran was able to shut down part of herself and become so terrifying. It was something she would have to consider later, however. "So then I assume you know why I'm here?"

"You seek knowledge for your fight with the Lich King." He spat after uttering that name. "You know that using his own blade against him is the only way you might kill him, but you have also come to realize that it would only serve to make you become him."

Poldaran nodded. "I'll fail if I don't, unless you have another option," she said.

"The sword is indeed the key, but as you've surmised, you cannot use it to strike at his body. However, you can use its connection to him to allow you to rob him of some of his strength."

Poldaran was intrigued. "Please, continue."

"Kil'jaeden enchanted the weapon and armor to allow it to consume souls. He did not realize that doing so would allow the Lich King's power to grow at an exponential rate. What you must do is find a way to free the souls from the Lich King, using the sword as a conduit. I am no necromancer, so I cannot say how this could be done. Finding a way is your trial."

She thought about it for a moment. "I may have an idea. So I just release the souls and he'll grow weaker? Weaken him enough and he'll become beatable through other methods?"

"That is the gist of it, but there are caveats. If you just release the souls, he'll be attuned to them still and able to draw them back. You'll either have to find a way to entrap them so he cannot reclaim them, or destroy them. I do not think you'll find a foolproof way to do the former, so the latter might be your only choice. Additionally, he will lose control of a member of the Scourge for each soul you destroy. They will become more feral, and quite dangerous, though will be unable to work as an army. You release enough of them, they'll become a dangerous swarm and will likely destroy your world."

"That's alright," she said. "Unless I figure out another way to release the souls, it's gonna take a lot of my own power to do this. I probably won't have the strength to release more than a few thousand souls, and even that many may leave me permanently scarred. Will that be enough?"

"Perhaps. It is hard to say. If your people's heroes are strong enough, then that might do it."

Poldaran thought about her friends. "They'll be strong enough," she said. She suddenly grew suspicious. "Why are you helping me?" she asked. "What do you stand to gain here?"

The Mo'arg laughed. "it's quite simple really. If you fail at this junction in the prophecy, then another prophecy cannot come true. I am interested in the fulfillment of the other prophecy."

"What kind of prophecy?"

"My people live under a yoke of slavery," he said. "While many enjoy the Legion's campaign of slaughter, that does not change the fact that we yearn for our freedom. It is said that your success against the Lich King is crucial in the coming of the one who will free us. What that means is unclear, however. I suspect that either you will inadvertently save one who will become our savior, or the soul that survives the outcome of your choice will one day reincarnate into our savior. Whether this is now or a thousand years down the road, I cannot say. All I know is that I must help you if I wish to be free."

It was a motive Poldaran could understand. "Alright, then. Perhaps there is another way you could help me," she said, producing a large case. She opened it, revealing the contents to the smith.

"Felsteel, cobalt, quicksilver, adamantite, several gems and a metal I do not recognize. I am intrigued, human."

"The metal you don't recognize is called Primordial Saronite, the black blood of Yogg-Saron. Be careful around it, it will whisper madness into your ears."

"I will indeed take heed. What do you wish for me to do?"

"Have you ever heard the story of Disillusion and Aspiration?"

"The story of the two lovers? Yes, it is a common tale here in the Nether."

"Good, then this explanation will be a lot easier," Poldaran said, a wicked smile creeping across her lips.

** * **
The bar in Southshore was a fairly small one, but it was clean and always had the best ale, so Yoxutre always found an excuse to stop there whenever he was in the area. It didn't hurt that the barmaids were easy on the eyes.

He downed his second tankard and motioned for another. Yadier's request that he come to the tourney didn't sound all that urgent, so he figured he could spend a night hanging out in Southshore and continue on in the morning.

Shortly after the girl refilled his drink, he heard a voice behind him. "You're a difficult man to locate. Were you aware of this?" The voice was familiar, but Yoxutre could not remember whose voice it was for the life of him. A hooded woman walked around the table and sat across from him. She pulled back her hood, revealing a woman with fair skin and long black hair. She motioned for the serving girl to bring her a drink.

It took him a moment, but he finally recognized her. "You're Malyse, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm flattered that you recognize me, Dragon Slayer of the Silver Hand." Her tone was mocking.

Yoxutre had killed a number of Black Dragons on his search for members of the other flights to help him empower his blade. So that was what this was about. "You take offense that I've been killing your kind?"

Malyse the Black laughed. "Not in the slightest. In fact, you've saved me a fair bit of trouble. The several renegades you've killed were foes of mine as well. Besides, I can't really say anything since I've killed more of my own kind than you have in the past few days."

"Some kind of schism amongst the black flight?" Yoxutre asked, intrigued.

"Not at all," Malyse said. "It's just that after the failure of that attempt to take over Wyrmrest, we've all been fighting for position amongst the Flight, wanting to be ready to receive the Aspect's favor when he inevitably returns."

"I take it that you've been doing well?"

Malyse laughed. It was a wicked, slightly terrifying sound. "More than you could know. My time with Poldaran and Nihlus was quite educational. I've been succeeding against dragons who by rights are much stronger than I am by simply asking myself one question before engaging them."

"Oh, and what question is that?"

"'What would Poldaran do?'"

"I'm not sure how that would help."

"That's because you haven't taken time to think about it. Poldaran and, to a lesser degree, Nihlus have been successful because they do things that no one else would even consider. An enemy cannot counter something if he cannot fathom that it would be done."

"There are reasons that no one can foresee what they will do. Poldaran goes straight for the most insane route she can find."

"With great insanity comes great unpredictability." She laughed again. "I slew one of my older brothers by tricking him into attacking a courier from Stormwind because I was hidden among them after angering him. Stormwind's response was swift and brutal. Another I slew by causing a small volcano to erupt while he and I were flying inches from its surface. I had a way to teleport away while he had nothing."

"There isn't much honor in such methods," Yoxutre noted.

"Of course not. But I'm alive and they are not. In the Black Flight, this is all that matters."

Yoxutre decided to change the subject. "You know, Poldaran's in trouble right now and could probably use your help."

Malyse sighed. "I wish I could help. Poldaran knew that I would only be there until Malygos was defeated. I cannot justify to my Aspect aiding her any more than that."

"I see," Yoxutre said, unconvinced.

"That doesn't mean I can't help out covertly. In fact, that's why I'm here tonight. I am to deliver a message to you."

"From whom?"

"That is not important. The message itself is all you need to know."

"Okay then. Go ahead and give me the message."

Malyse's gaze turned serious. "You cannot dally here any longer. The attack Yadier suspects will happen much sooner than any of you realize. If you do not arrive at the tournament grounds before noon tomorrow, Poldaran and everyone else will die."

Yoxutre slapped a few coins on the table and was out the door within moments, his unfinished drink still sitting upon the table.

** * **
"Alright, I'm here," Poldaran said to her companion. "What was so important that you had to contact me as I was traveling through a nether mana stream?"

"A mana stream? That's incredibly dangerous, you know."

Poldaran had begun to get frustrated. "I seem to recall us having this conversation before. Please, get on with it."

Her companion laughed. "Patience, my dear Poldaran. Patience." She poured a glass of honeyed wine for Poldaran and herself. "You have time yet. We must first make sure that you are ready for what you must do."

"I've already worked out the spell to use. I'm ready."

"That wasn't what I was talking about. What I want to know is if you're emotionally ready. When the time comes, with the power of the Scourge at your fingertips, whispers filling your mind with promises of greatness, will you be able to resist the temptation? Will you be able to do what you know to be right?"

Poldaran bowed her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "I'm not sure where I'll find the strength to resist, now that Nihlus is gone."

"The answer is already known to you. You just have yet to realize it."

"What do you mean?" Poldaran asked her companion while wiping a tear from her eye.

"That I cannot tell you. However, when the time comes, when your conviction wavers, if you but think about what the demon told you, I believe you will find your answer."

Poldaran was confused. "How can you know what the demon told me?"

"You are not the only one with the gift of prophecy, Poldaran. I know what he was fated to tell you, and I believe that the most unimportant details are the key to your salvation."

"Salvation?" Poldaran snorted in disgust. "Even if I succeed, I will die shortly afterward.

"Not necessarily."

"I will be unable to defend myself or even flee. Since I have to do this on my own, I will have no one to save me."

"Just because you cannot take anyone with you doesn't mean that someone can't arrive just in time to aid you after you've completed your goal."

"But that would mean I would need friends to be in Icecrown already. I doubt any of them are still there."

Her companion smiled. "You would be incorrect about that. All of them are there at the tournament, waiting to help you."

"What?!" Poldaran was startled by that. "But, how? Why?"

"They went there at Modera's request. Seems the Kirin Tor got some information about some kind of attack looming from a Naaru." The woman's smile grew wicked. "They assumed that since it came through the Naaru, it must have been you who sent it. The Kirin Tor refused to act on intelligence from you, so Modera took steps."

"You arranged for them to be there?"

"Of course. Now there's one last thing we have to discuss."

"What's that?"

"This is likely to be the most terrifying thing you've ever done. It requires a lot of split second timing and any number of things could go wrong. How do you intend to cope?"

Poldaran thought about it for a moment. "I am not sure. I really hadn't given it much thought."

"You should think about it."

"How would you suggest I cope? Should I allow myself to go into a blackout?"

The woman laughed. "You do realize that you aren't actually blacking out and losing control when that happens, right? You just shut out any realization that you were responsible for what you do after the fact. The time has come to put that aside. Own your actions, Poldaran. You are Poldaran of Wintermoon. You're capable of amazing things when you put your mind to it. If you're not happy with how you've done them, then it's time to decide how you want to live your future. Be Poldaran, show the world just what you're capable of."

Thinking about that made Poldaran uncomfortable. "Look, I need to go make some arrangements before everything happens. Thanks again for the information, but I really have to go."

Her companion smiled. "Good luck, Poldaran. For all our sakes."

** * **

Edited, Jan 25th 2011 1:18am by Poldaran

At Modera's request, Yadier had decided to make a quick trip through camp to assess the state of the remaining fighting forces. Things were not looking good. Despite having some of the strongest healers in the world at the camp, there were too many wounded to be tended to before the shield fell and battle resumed in full.

At least the Death Knights had driven back the forces attacking from the west. Camp smiths and carpenters had gone to work fortifying that position as well, allowing the defenders there to rest until the next wave came. Yadier thought it was likely that the enemy forces on the western front would wait until the shield fell and the defenders were once again spread thin before pressing their attack again.

As he made his way around the coliseum, Yadier heard a familiar voice coming from within one of the short tunnels that passed underneath it. "Listen, Viridiel," Azmaria said, "I'm flattered, I really am. But now is not the time nor the place to even consider talking about such things. When this war against the Lich King is over, we can talk about it, but I'm not sure you'll like the answer even then."

"If that is what you wish, I'll wait," another voice responded. "But I will not give up on you, Azmaria."

Yadier wisely decided to hurry along. As he passed another tunnel, he heard another conversation. This one caused him to pause and listen in. "Foul traitor! Oathbreaker! We don't need you here! You'll get what's coming to you." Yadier identified the voice as that of a male gnome, though he did not recognize the individual.

A woman's voice answered. Yadier recognized it immediately. "Do what you will," Sindara said. "But face it, you're wrong. You need me here. In this dire situation you need all the help you can get. Quit your granstanding. Just stay out of my way. If any of us make it out of here alive, then we can discuss my punishment for breaking my oath to the order...for disobeying the king and putting the rest of you in danger of being expelled from Stormwind. I should warn you, however, that I will not go quietly. I was right in what I did, and history will prove it. I will not be punished for doing what was right, what was just!"

"Fine. We'll declare a truce until this battle is over and then speak to the council as to what we are to do about you. I would not expect that you will escape our justice, however." The gnome growled words in the tongue of the demons. Sindara responded in kind.

He heard footsteps coming his way, so Yadier hid in a nearby hay cart. He would have just used an invisibility spell, but Warlocks had an uncanny knack for seeing through those. From within, he saw several crimson garbed warlocks exit the tunnel, their faces contorted with rage.

Yadier nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice behind him. "Taking a nap, I see," Sindara said.

"Um, yeah. Didn't sleep much yesterday," Yadier lied hastily.

Sindara laughed. "I'd imagine Modera is waiting on your report. Let's head over to the command tent." They walked together silently for several minutes before reaching the command tent. Just before entering, Sindara grabbed Yadier's arm and spoke again softly, almost hesitantly. "Don't worry about what you heard. I'll be okay. When Poldaran comes through for us, everything will be alright." She sounded almost as if she was trying to convince herself of that.

** * **

When Azmaria entered the command tent, an argument was already occurring. "Listen to me, Modera," Tirion Fordring said, almost shouting. "After Wizard Yadier's report, there's no way you can deny our need to cut down on the size of the southern front. If we do not, we'll be overrun in short order."

"I don't disagree with you, Highlord," Archmage Modera responded. "But we cannot maintain a shield of the size you require for very long. We would only exhaust a dozen mages in vain. Mages that could be used to greater effect if we use them offensively, rather than defensively."

"Precisely how large of an area are we talking about?" Yadier asked. "We might be able to scar the land instead, creating a more natural barrier for less effort."

"Sadly, no," Modera responded. "This mountain is situated above the old Nerubian kingdom. If we cause too much seismic activity, we could collapse the entire thing and kill everyone on it."

"What about using the same trick used at the siege of Dalaran?" Envinyata suggested. "If we can weaken their forces as they attack, it might work just as well as cutting off part of the front."

Everyone looked at Modera. "It's not a bad idea, in theory, but it would also force us to take mages out of commission to channel the spell keeping up the undead destroying auras. We would be able to hold the effect longer, but if the mages channeling it are attacked, we'd lose it almost immediately."

"Totems," Sharlot said cryptically.

"What?" Modera asked, confused by the comment.

"What if, instead of channeling the effect, you bound it to totems, much like the shamans do? We could place a great number of them out there, removing the need to channel while also giving us a great deal of coverage. We could even concentrate the effect on one portion of the front, making a nigh impassable barrier to the dead, much like a shield."

Tirion Fordring turned to Modera with an intrigued expression on his face. Modera thought about it for a moment. "It's doable, but the problem is time. We don't have enough time to erect a large enough field with the forces we have. Unfortunately, we may have to think of something else."

Azmaria remembered a conversation she had once had, before she had been taken by the Lich King and made into a Death Knight. "What if someone has already done most of the work?" she asked.

"What are you talking about?" Modera asked.

"What I'm saying is, what if there were already hundreds, or maybe thousands of totems already here, just waiting for us to use them?"

"That sounds like wishful thinking, Azmaria. It's impossible."

"Yes," Tirion Fordring agreed. "I'd know if we had that many anti-undead totems just sitting around up here. You couldn't hide that fact from me."

"What if someone could?" Azmaria asked.

Even Yadier was getting irritated. "Who could possibly have enough foresight to outfit the Crusade with thousands of anti-undead totems while also being paranoid enough to keep it a secret from everyone and capable of actually keeping it hidden..." He trailed off at the end and the blood drained from his face. He spoke one more word, almost a whisper. "Poldaran," he said.

Tirion Fordring was intrigued. "You have my full attention, Azmaria. Please, go on."

"One moment, Highlord," she said. She stuck her head out of the tent and looked around. She saw what she needed pretty quickly. "You there," she said, pointing at a lieutenant walking by. "I need you to come in here for a moment. Highlord Fordring requires your presence. Bewildered, the lieutenant did as he was told. "Draw your sword," Azmaria commanded.

"Excuse me?" the lieutenant asked.

"Do as the girl says," Highlord Fordring commanded.

The lieutenant drew his sword. It glowed white. "So, do you see?" Azmaria asked.

It was clear to Modera that the Death Knight had lost her mind. "That's just a simple weapon enchantment. No different than any of a thousand others. Please don't waste our time."

"I can see you don't quite understand," Azmaria said. "Tell me, what kind of enchantment is that?" she asked the lieutenant.

"That's the Scourgebane enchantment," he responded.

"How does it work?"

"I do not know," the lieutenant answered. "All I know is that it makes my attacks against scourge forces more effective."

"Anyone else know how it works?"

Envinyata spoke up. "I've been studying weapon enchantment, and that particular enchantment works by weakening the necromantic magic holding an undead together, making the enemy's flesh softer and easier to strike.

Modera and Yadier looked at eachother, their jaws had dropped. "Weakens the necromantic power holding an undead together?" they said in unison. "That's just like..."

"Just like the spell used during the siege of Dalaran," Azmaria finished for them. "But on a smaller and more permanent scale. That's how Poldaran described it to me, right after Nihlus told me that she had come up with the formula."

Yadier examined the blade more closely, this time looking at it through a lens. "It wouldn't take but maybe half a minute to alter one of these into what we need. Even if we only dedicate six mages to the task, we could easily have more than two hundred done long before the shield fell. How many of these swords do we have to spare?"

"The Horde and Alliance have left caches of them here in preparation for our assault on Icecrown Citadel," Highlord Fordring responded. "There are probably a good thousand of these ready to go in our supply tents."

"Have your men begin driving these into the ground in three overlapping rows with six feet between each over on the eastern end of the southern front, just behind the shield," Modera told Tirion. "I'll gather as many mages as we can spare and show them what to do. If we hurry, we can have more than a third of the southern front blocked off before the shield falls." She turned to Yadier. "You rest here a while. I will likely need you to hold up the command network once the fighting begins again."

And with that, the work began.

** * **

Yadier still could not believe it. Poldaran had once again proven herself a paragon of paranoid over-preparation. Only fifteen minutes had passed, but already a decent wall of anti-necromancy had been erected, covering more than the expected third of the southern front. It was true that they only had ten minutes or so remaining until the shield fell, but at this pace, they would likely be protected along half of the southern front. That made things quite a bit simpler.

Sharlot, Envinyata, Sindara and Pasiran had decided to rest here with Yadier. They were all spent from their earlier exertions, and things were only going to get more difficult. Azmaria had left to rejoin Fennchurch and Althomemnos in overseeing the fortifications on the western front.

"We might be alright, after all," Yadier said, finally breaking the silence. "With Poldaran's totems in place, this battle should become a fair bit more manageable. I'm still amazed she managed to get this kind of thing past us, at least on this scale. To think she knew we'd need a way to erect a wall like that," he said.

He heard a whisper in his left ear. "Actually," the voice said, "I had intended to use the resonance properties of the enchant to make something of an Anti-Scourge Bomb. But this is good too."

Yadier leapt from his seat in surprise. "What the hell?" A form shimmered into view right beside the chair where he had been seated. Her hair was a mess and her skin pale from exhaustion, but there was no denying it. "Poldaran?!"

She smiled wanly. "Just an illusion, I'm afraid. I needed to talk to you all for a moment, and I've found that disembodied voices tend to be distracting."

"What's going on?" Sindara asked, concerned.

"I'm currently flying near Icecrown Citadel. In fact, I'll be landing there within the hour. But that's not all that important. What is important is that you are all in grave danger."

"Nothing we aren't used to," Envinyata said with a chuckle.

"It's more serious than you realize, this time."

"Just how serious are we talking here?" Sharlot asked.

"There's a Necropolis heading your way." Everyone gasped. "If it reaches you, it will rain death down upon everyone, and you won't be able to last against it."

"How long do we have until it reaches us?" Yadier asked.

"Two hours. Maybe two and a half."

Yadier swore. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't really have any," Poldaran said. "Not on that timetable, anyway. If you had more time and twenty or so people to spare, a boarding party would be your best option. Take out the pilot and you end the threat. But that would take too long, so you're going to have to try to shoot it down. The only time I've ever heard of that being done was by the trolls in Zul'Drak, but I'm sad to say I never managed to find out how they did it. At this point, all I can suggest is that you hit it with something big and hope it falls down. That could be the lack of sleep talking, however."

"What about the Skybreaker and Orgrim's Hammer?"

"They seem to be having their own problems right now."

"They aren't in danger of being brought down, are they?" Sharlot asked, concerned.

"I think they'll make it." Poldaran suddenly laughed. "In fact, I think they'll be fine. I watched some crazy paladin in a flying machine draw off quite a few of the gargoyles they had swarming them. When I last saw him, he had flown into the clouds around the mountaintops to your southwest with dozens of gargoyles hot on his tail. Probably trying to lose them. Too bad those things can use echolocation to find their way. He'll probably appear in your sky in a few minutes." She looked at Envinyata, who was deep in thought. "Whatcha thinking, Envi?" she asked the dwarf.

"I might have an idea on how to down the necropolis, but I fear I'm going to need to leave the tourney to get what I'll need to take it down. And I'll probably need a dozen or so mages to make it work, at that. I doubt I'll be able to take that many with me, however."

Pasiran spoke up. "You're probably right on that. I could probably head off with you without anyone noticing my absence, but the people here need all the firepower they can get. If we can stop at Dalaran on the way, I could probably manage to scrounge up a dozen or so competent mages, as long as we can pay them."

"That sounds like a plan. We can have them bill it to the Argent Crusade. Let's get going. We're gonna need all the time we have." The dwarf priestess and the mage then left through a portal Pasiran had created.

Yadier was still concerned. "Even if they succeed, what are the chances the Crusade will weather this storm? We're outnumbered pretty badly here."

"I won't lie to you and say you'll definitely make it. I'm really just not sure. I've already sent you some aid, but it will be a while before they get there. And it's not like its a massive force or anything." She sighed. "Assuming everything goes well on my end, if you can hold out for a few more incredibly hopeless hours, I'll have completed my task and your situation here will improve a bit."

"You'll be able to come help us?"

"No, I don't think so. If everything goes well here, I'll likely be in no shape to help anyone. What I have planned will drain all my strength, and will likely also damage my ability to use magic in the process. I'll have channeled so much energy I won't be able to conjure much more than the tiniest flame. I'll eventually heal from it, but it could take as long as ten, maybe fifteen years before I'm back up to my current strength again. Not that it'll matter. In all likelihood, after what I'll have done, the Lich King will probably be very upset and cut me down then and there, and I won't have the strength to escape. Unless some miracle happens, unless something saves me, I'll likely die today in the Valley of Fallen Heroes." She laughed at the coincidence of the name.

"We'll hold out, Poldaran," Sharlot said, the fire of determination in her voice. "And you will not die today."

"Good to hear," Poldaran said, her voice trembling a bit. "I have to go. Take care, all of you." And then she was gone.

The tent was filled with silence for a minute, and then Yadier looked at Sindara, who was lost in thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"It seems something she said should mean something more. I'm just having trouble putting my finger on it." Her eyes suddenly grew wide as realization dawned on her. "Crazy paladin in a flying machine?" she asked. She looked at Yadier. "You don't suppose it could be..."

Yadier swore and ran from the tent.

** * **

With more than sixty gargoyles still following him, Yoxutre knew he was going to have to time everything just right in order to make this work. That's why the gargoyles that were almost upon him were such a problem. He needed to slow them down, or better yet, eliminate the closest ones.

Thinking quickly, he tore the machine gun from the front of his flying machine. He aimed it at the nearest gargoyle and unleashed a quick three round burst, tearing the creature's wing in half. It collided with another and both fell from the sky.

He continued like that until he was out of ammunition. Unfortunately, there were still several too close to him, and he was almost out of time. Once again, he was forced to think quickly, this time throwing heavy tools from his engineering kit at the pursuers. Most tools just irritated the gargoyles, but some were extremely effective as projectiles, like the gyromatic micro-adjuster, which ended up embedded in the skull of one unlucky creature.

That last barrage had bought him the distance he needed just as he reached the edge of the tournament grounds. Below him, he saw that the enemy had abated their attack, likely because the Crusade was free to concentrate their forces on that side since their south end was protected by a magical shield. That would work out well for Yoxutre, as he could not do this directly over the tourney, so this empty field at the edge would suit his purposes perfectly. With a grin, he pulled down his visor and pulled the flying machine into a spiraling ascent.

The spiral was wide at first, but as he climbed, Yoxutre tightened it. The gargoyles followed him, spiraling upwards until it appeared as though the sky was filled with a giant vortex of black wings. Eventually, he was just flying straight up, but the gargoyles were continuing their tightening spiral. Just as the first of them began flying straight upwards, Yoxutre heard the engine begin to sputter.

The air was getting too thin. His ascent was almost over. The time had finally come. "It's too bad this thing won't make it out of this," he said, talking about his flying machine. "But on the bright side, I'll get to build a new one, with more room for explosives."

Yoxutre drew his sword and said a short prayer. "For the Light!" he shouted before closing his eyes and falling backwards from the ascending craft, diving head first towards the ground.

As he passed the first gargoyle, he slashed at it, severing a wing. The force of his blow also caused him to begin spinning. He reinforced the spin by firing the rockets on his boots while aiming his feet in the proper directions. As he fell, his spinning motion allowed him to simply outstretch his hand and let his sword do all the work.

He tore through the whirling swarm of gargoyles like a saw blade through so many trees. He left nothing but a shredded cloud of limbs, torsos and wings in his wake.

Once he had cleared the swarm, he had to right himself again, as landing head first would not have been wise. To this end, he fired the rockets in his boots again while kicking forward, this time only a short burst. He also used them to stop the spinning.

Only moments before impact, Yoxutre sheathed his body in the power of the Light. He landed with a massive force, sending dirt and snow into the air..

When the debris cleared, Yoxutre was on one knee inside a shallow crater, facing the enemy lines before him. He stood, sheathed his sword and spun on one foot, then strode calmly towards the stunned line of Death Knights standing at the edge of the tourney grounds as chunks of flesh that were once gargoyles rained to the ground behind him.

** * **

Azmaria had to admit, Yoxutre had some style. The way he had strode into camp screamed "badass" at anyone who had watched.

Well, everyone except Yoxutre's own brother. Yadier was livid as he marched up to the paladin. "Have you lost your goddamned mind?!" he screamed. "What in Azeroth possessed you to leap out of an airborne flying machine?!"

Yoxutre pulled off his helmet. "It worked, didn't it?" he replied with a smile. "Though I do feel sorry for that poor squire that took a wing to the head. I'm sure one of the medics will be able to help him, though."

"I have half a mind to beat you within an inch of your life."

"Well I have half a mind to find another flying machine and do that again. That was a hell of a rush." Yox's face was filled with exhilaration. Yadier's hands began shaking. Azmaria couldn't quite hear what he was mumbling. She also wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

Sharlot strode up. "There's no time to congratulate yourself," she said to Yoxutre. "We need to get you on a mount and on your way out of here quickly. You have somewhere you have to be."

Yoxutre and Yadier exchanged a look of surprise. "Wait, I just got here," Yoxutre said to Sharlot. "Why do I need to leave?"

"Poldaran's going to need your help in the Valley of Fallen Heroes in the near future, maybe an hour or two from now."

Yadier thought about it for a moment and nodded. "She's right. You're the one who has to go. I don't think anyone else can deal with the potential threats out there. It's going to have to be you." He placed his finger to his ear and spoke over the command network. "I need a flying mount readied for my brother. He has to get somewhere nearby quickly if we're to make it through this."

Xelsia's voice came back over the communication network. "That's not going to work," she said. "We have a massive number of flying enemies incoming. He won't be able to get past them. The Crusade's flying forces and I are going to do what we can to deal with them, but I doubt we'll be able to clear the sky in less than two hours."

Yadier swore. "Poldaran may be on her own," he said.

"Like hell she will," Azmaria said. She turned to a squire. "Prepare my horse. And get the fastest charger in the stable ready for Lord Yoxutre. Recruit help from any other squires you find along the way. This is the absolute highest priority right now. Move quickly."

"What is that about?" Yoxutre asked Azmaria. "I mean, I'm good, but there's no way through the wall of enemies between here and the Valley of Fallen Heroes."

Azmaria drew her massive sword. "I intend to make one for you," she said.

Fennchurch, having watched the entire exchange, drew her greatsword and looked at a black armored Draenei standing next to her. "Hey, Altho, sounds like a great opportunity to rack up a massive kill count. You in?"

Althomemnos picked up his polearm and twirled it over his head. "It sounds like fun. Let us cut down some dead."

Fennchurch shouted over to Azmaria. "You hear that, Az? We're with you."

Azmaria smiled. She had expected that those two would aid her. "I'll be glad for the company."

She did not expect what happened next, however. A paladin of the Crusade who had been listening in dropped to one knee before Azmaria. "My blade is yours to command, Lady Azmaria. Poldaran saved my hometown. She protected my wife and kid. If she needs Lord Yoxutre, then I swear that I will do all that is in my power to help him get there."

Others - paladins, mages, knights, indeed warriors of all stripes - began voicing their agreement and commitment to helping cut a path for Yoxutre. Azmaria wiped a single tear from her eye. It seems that some still believed in the woman that had done so much for her. She was grateful for their aid.

Before she could speak to thank them, someone cleared his throat behind her. She turned and was surprised to see Highlord Tirion Fordring standing there.

Highlord Fordring shook his head. "No. I cannot allow this. We cannot afford to leave our fortifications vulnerable and risk so many lives on a mission to aid a single woman." He sighed. "At least, as Commander, that's what I should say." He shook his head again. "But Poldaran, after calling upon the aid of a few friends, helped my son Taelan find redemption, and in so doing, she helped me find redemption as well. It was because of what she did that day that I set out to rebuild the Order of the Silver Hand. It is because of her that the Argent Crusade stands tall this day.

"I cannot ride with you as I have to direct the defenses on the southern front once that shield falls, but I give you my blessing." He drew the Ashbringer and pointed it at the undead lines to the west. "Cut a path through them so wide that Yoxutre can walk down it without the enemy even being able to touch him with a bolt from their strongest crossbow!"

Cheers erupted all around them. Once again Azmaria found herself wiping tears from her eyes.

Sindara could not believe what she was seeing. They were outnumbered, unprepared and exhausted, but it was still beginning to look like they might survive this attack. And they owed it all to Sharlot. It still blew Sindara's mind that the druid had been able to hold the spell for that long. The longest she had ever heard of a Tranquility lasting had been several minutes, and that had been done by the Demigod, Cenarius.

Still, there were some obstacles that needed to be overcome before they could deal with that, such as the number of Cultist necromancers that had begun attacking the defenders on the western front from behind a wall of giant skeletons. "Mirwena," she whispered.

A sultry voice responded from behind her. "Yes?" the unseen succubus asked.

"I want you to assassinate as many of those enemy casters as you can, then return here. If they spot you and you cannot escape conventionally, retreat to the Nether. I will summon you back afterward."

"As you command, mistress."

As Sindara suspected, after the first few necromancers fell to the invisible succubus, a shade appeared and revealed her to the others. She narrowly escaped by retreating to the Nether. Sindara decided to let the wounded succubus rest a bit and instead called forth her felguard. She pointed him in the direction of the nearest skeleton and left him to his own devices.

After a few more minutes fighting, she heard a voice behind her. "Sin, you've got a number of wounds," Pasiran said. "Go see a healer and get patched up. I'll take over here for a bit."

"Probably a good idea. Keep an eye on my demon for me."

As Sindara approached the medical tent, she heard a familiar voice within. "How long is this going to take, doc? I have to get back out there." She recognized the voice as Azmaria's.

"Not much longer, Sir Death Knight. We'll have the arm reattached momentarily and then a healer can work a little magic and you'll be ready to get back out there."

The tent was filled with the injured, mostly people who had lost limbs to the battle. Several rocked back and forth in pain, muttering things that Sindara could not quite make out. The warlock was forced to admit that there seemed to be a limit to the Tranquility. Despite the initial surge of healing, it now seemed to only be working well for minor wounds and fatigue. She had to admit that the fatigue was likely the true enemy here. Unlike the undead, the living defenders here tired. Until Sharlot had stepped in, the people had begun to falter. Exhaustion had been setting in and people had begun to make critical errors.

But things were looking up, at least somewhat. "As long as she can hold out, so can we," Sindara said under her breath. She looked through the tent, finally spotting Azmaria, who had removed her breastplate so the doctor could reattach her severed left arm. The white tunic she was wearing had turned red with blood. Sindara greeted her half sister with a smile. "Hey, Az, what happened to you?"

"Oh, hey Sin. I was battling two of those giant skeletons when one got in a lucky swing. Unfortunately, it hit the joint on the shoulder where the armor is a bit weaker, so it sliced right through."

"Ouch."

The doctor, having finished his stitching, called over a healer. The young priestess prayed for healing for Azmaria and the Death Knight's wounds healed. The stitches fell off on their own, leaving a nasty scar in their place. Azmaria thanked the woman and the doctor then tested her arm. Azmaria winced a bit when he had her raise it above her head. "Well, the shoulder's a bit stiff, but I should be able to get back to fighting. Thankfully the armor will repair itself when I put the two pieces back together."

"That's a nifty trick," Sindara remarked.

"The primordial saronite coating works some interesting miracles." To illustrate her point, Azmaria popped the armor's sleeve back into place. The metal seemed to melt and then re-solidify, repairing the armor. "I'll have to thank Poldaran for this later," she said, putting on the suit.

The doctor began working at stitching up Sindara's wounds. Azmaria sat with her for a while, both silent as the doctor worked. After a time, a call sounded out over the command network. "Highlord Fordring! The enemy has massed for a strong push against us. Both fronts are getting slammed, and more enemy air units are entering the field!"

Another voice responded. "Keep your wits about you, soldier." With a crackle, the channel to speak to all units opened. "Attention, everyone. It seems the enemy is pushing harder than ever. All units who are currently on a resting rotation are hereby ordered back to your positions. Anyone who can target the sky, take out as many fliers as possible before focusing on the ground forces. We may have those Val'kyr up there, but we should not leave it to chance."

Sindara looked at Azmaria, concern in her eyes, "Az, something's not right. They've been hitting us with a steady assault all day, with minor variations. Why mass for a big hit now? What has changed?"

The realization hit Azmaria suddenly. "Modera said we're above the old Nerubian Kingdom!" The ground suddenly began to shake as it collapsed near the center of the tournament grounds, close to where Sharlot was channeling the Tranquility. "Sometimes I really hate being right."

"We've encountered an immense force!" Xelsia called out over the command network. "Nerubians everywhere. Request immediate backup."

"I'll lead a team," Sindara volunteered.

"No," Highlord Fordring responded. "We cannot spare the manpower right now. We have to focus on the waves assaulting us. The druids will have to hold out until we can repel this current group of invaders."

"Then I'll go alone," Sindara asserted.

"No. I've seen the force. It would take an army to defeat it. The druids are in a defensible position. I'm confident that they can hold out until we can spare the forces needed to aid them."

"Fine," Sindara responded coldly.

"Look, warlock, you don't have to like the orders, you just have to follow them."

A mighty roar filled the air. "I am come!" the great spider lord, Anub'arak, shouted. "Your fates are sealed. We shall devour this tree and then slaughter all of you. Without her, you will fall. You shall serve the Scourge. ALL WILL BOW TO THE LICH KING!"

Sindara suddenly noticed that Azmaria had become deathly still. The death knight's hands gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly that they had become white. Her face showed almost no emotion, save for a small twitch of the corner of her mouth. She stood for several moments clutching at her blade, working through what appeared to be intense anger. Finally, after a time, she spoke. It was almost a whisper, but it burned with an intensity Sindara had never heard. "No."

With that single word, Azmaria was gone from the tent. "Highlord Fordring," Sindara called out. "I think we have a problem."

"What is it, warlock?"

"Azmaria has gone to fight the Nerubians on her own."

"What?! There looks to be almost two thousand nerubians out there. She cannot think to take them alone." He paused a moment. "Death Knight, I know that you are doing what you think is best, but you cannot hope to defeat them. Return and aid the others in defending the western front."

Azmaria made contact with her first foe, delivering a massive slash to the unprepared nerubian, cutting it cleanly in two. "I'm sorry, Highlord. I didn't hear your orders. Please repeat them. Or better yet, shove them up your ass. I know what it's like to serve the Lich King. I know what it's like to watch helplessly as you're forced to perform horrific acts upon others. To hear their screams and be unable to do anything about it. Well screw that.

"When Poldaran freed me, I didn't know what to do. My parents were both dead. So I pledged myself to her, swore that I'd use my blade to serve her. You know what she told me? She declined, saying that I needed to live my life, to choose my own battles, to protect those whom I chose to protect. I've done a lot of thinking on the matter, and this is the battle I choose. I will do what I feel is right. Sharlot said that she would not allow the Crusade to fall today. I have faith that she can deliver on that promise, so I am going to keep these Nerubians from interfering.

"I will not allow us to fall. I'm going to squash that bug like a spider beneath my boot. I will never again be made to serve the Lich King." Fire filled Azmaria's voice and it had been rising in volume from the beginning, by the time she reached the end, it had reached a crescendo and she shouted the last line so all could hear. "I'M NO ONE'S SLAVE!"

The Death Knight began her attack in earnest. If it was going to take an army to take out the enemy, then she would just have to be an army of one. She had been trained by many different weapons experts. From Nihlus, she had learned to make every single one of her blows count, so she ensured that each strike connected with a vital point of the enemy. From Poldaran, she had learned to strike as quick as the wind, so she struck enemies in a flurry of blows, each unaware that they had been struck until after they had already been defeated. From Yoxutre she had learned to remember that her sword was not the only weapon available to her, so she struck with her fist and her feet when warranted, crushing enemies with the force of her blows. From Viridiel Suntreader, she had learned that a blow that missed her was one blow less for her to recover from, so she moved erratically, keeping the enemy off balance, unable to predict where she would be, unable to strike her.

From Alexandrine, her sister and dearest friend, she had learned to harness the force of her convictions into her attacks, so her blade was filled to overflowing with shadow magic. Each slash spread disease and miasma in a cone before it, striking down even the hardy Nerubians.

After nearly ten minutes of fighting, Azmaria found no more Nerubians left to fight, at least none in the immediate vicinity. They had all either been slain or had retreated. All that remained was Anub'arak, locked in combat with a druid of the claw. "Xelsia!" she called out. "I'm going to need a boost."

The druid, immediately realizing what the Death Knight had planned, grinned. "Promise me you'll say it."

"What?"

"You know what I mean. Just promise me!"

"Fine," Azmaria said. "Just have the typhoon ready when I reach the right spot."

"Got it!"

Azmaria held her blade in her right hand, parallel to the ground. She then infused it with necromantic magic while running her hand across the blade, coating it in more of her toxic blood. The blade began to glow as the blood touched it.

Azmaria let loose a war cry as she charged at the giant crypt lord. Almost halfway to it, a cyclone appeared and sucked her into the air, flinging her at Anub'arak at almost blinding speed. She slashed once as she passed just over his back, then landed softly upon the ground a short distance away from him, cushioned by another small cyclone.

"Is that the best you have to offer, Death Knight?" Anub'arak called out. "You didn't even scratch me."

Azmaria twirled her somehow immaculately clean blade in her hand and deftly inserted it into the sheath on her back, then looked over her shoulder at the Nerubian. "You heard it too, didn't you?" she asked softly.

"What?" the Nerubian asked, annoyed.

A smile crept across Azmaria's face. He hadn't noticed. The blade had cut into him so cleanly he hadn't even felt it as it left behind all the gore and blood caked upon it. "The voice of the wind." As she spoke the last word the volatile blood now spreading throughout Anub'arak's body exploded, tearing his body apart violently and sending dust and the liquid that had once been his internal organs spraying all over the battlefield.

When the haze cleared, the only movement in that section of the tournament grounds was that of a moonkin, dancing and grinning. "Woo!" Xelsia called out. "You actually said it!"

Azmaria chuckled in spite of herself.

** * **

The sun had begun to set, bathing the Valley of Fallen Heroes in a red haze. With her attention focused on her work, she heard the boots before she saw him. "About damn time," Poldaran said. "I was beginning to think that I had frozen you too well."

"You will return my sword!" the Lich King growled.

"In due time. You can have it back when I'm done with it, my good man." Poldaran was going out of her way to irritate him. Until the last rune was carved, the entire spellform was vulnerable. Sure, she was protected by the shield she had erected, but part of the spell stuck out beyond the shield. She had to keep him from noticing it until the final rune was traced, at which point the spellform would become locked and unchangeable until she cast it. "Until then, why not have a seat in the snow over there. Take a number and I'll call you when I'm done."

"I will not tolerate your insolence. You have no idea what I can do to you."

"Something tells me that you wouldn't be nearly as creative as I could be," Poldaran said with a laugh. "Trust me. I could teach you so much, but I think that you would make a bad student." Poldaran knew that by his lack of response, he wasn't going to take the bait. She had to try a new approach. "Seems like you're having a bad day, Arthas. They killed Anub'arak. I would have loved to see that."

"How could you know such things?"

"I felt it through the sword. Seems like a ton of his Nerubians went down shortly before him. Seems you underestimated them."

"We still have more than enough forces to defeat them and add all of them to the Scourge." His eyes narrowed. "I find myself curious. Why did you not use the sword to help them? With it and your power combined, you easily could have slain my entire army there, yet you chose not to."

"Some power is too dangerous to use. I could have used the blade, but with each spell it enhanced, I would have lost more of myself. I'm already a monster, I have no business becoming more of one. Besides, I have faith in my friends. They'll pull through."

"You're a fool not to seize the power before you."

"Perhaps," Poldaran said. "But perhaps you are the fool for allowing your power to rule you."

"I rule my power. It does not rule me." Arthas seemed to be getting angry.

Poldaran finished her last rune. She now only had to wait until the sun finished setting to cast the spell a mere few moments away. It was now too late for Arthas to stop her. "Go ahead and tell yourself that all you want. Deep down, you know the truth as well as I. Just as we both know that you'll never conquer this world. The hope of the people will pull them through."

"Hope? Foolish nonsense. I will destroy all hope in this world. None can escape death."

The sun itself set and the runes Poldaran had carved began to glow in the moonlight. "So, have you figured out what I'm planning yet? Or have you suppressed the part of Ner'zhul that remains so deep that he cannot tell you what is about to happen?"

Arthas studied the glowing runes for a time. "It seems you have linked over a thousand Drain Soul glyphs together. You're going to drain souls from the sword in an attempt to kill me? This was your grand plan? You may just be more foolish than I thought, Poldaran. If you drain this many at once, you'll damage yourself. At best, you'll lose your ability to wield arcane magic for at least a decade, while your body recovers, and that's assuming it doesn't outright kill you. But what's funnier is that all you'll do is sap a bit of my strength until the sword can call out and retrieve the souls. No, this is a decoy. You could have instead used the power to kill massive portions of my army. You cannot have me believe that you would instead use it thus."

Poldaran laughed. "It's quite funny how little you know me, Arthas. To think that one would try to make me one of his generals and know so little of me. Perhaps my motivations are simply unfathomable to you and you just cannot see what the point of this is. Let me illuminate it all for you." Now she was simply killing time. "Before I left Dalaran, I dropped several letters in a post box. When this is all over, a number of wizards will know that something went on here. They will scry this place and see what transpired. What they will see is me striking a blow against you. Sure, it may be a small blow, but they'll see that you can be wounded.

"And that's where things will become interesting. You see, I believe that it takes a man to kill a monster. I'm a monster myself, so I cannot kill you, not without becoming worse than you. So another must do it, one who will not simply become worse than you are now. But sometimes despair creeps into the hearts of men. They fear that the darkness cannot be dispelled, that the monster cannot be slain. So it falls to another monster to show them that there is still a way, that hope springs eternal, that the darkness can be purged by the light.

"And this is what I will do today. I may lose my life, and will certainly lose my gift for the next decade. But I will have purchased something grander and you will learn the price of your evil as heroes of this world strike against you, bringing your end."

"A pretty speech, Poldaran. But you fail to grasp the truth of this world. It does not have to be this way. You no longer have to sacrifice for your people. You can still join me."

"After all I've told you, you still try to sway me? Tell me, are all men nothing more than scared little boys, or is it just you?"

"You are a fool to rely on hope, it is gone."

Poldaran looked at the sky. The moon was finally high enough and the sun had set. It was time. She pulled the Skull of Gul'dan from her belt and opened a portal into the Nether, inches from a flowing mana stream. "Perhaps your blade will not be able to recall those souls after all," she said.

"You cannot kill death! Admit that hope is lost!"

Poldaran flung the blade into the air. It flipped through the air and slid into the ground at the center of the network of glyphs. "That is not dead which can eternal lie."

She began invoking the spell. The runes all began to glow and thousands of souls were ripped from the blade and transferred into Poldaran. She walked over to the portal and turned to face Arthas. Her eyes glowed with the power of all the souls she had drained from the blade. Within her body, a thousand voices spoke in unison as she shoved her hand into the portal.

"And with strange aeons even death may die."

** * **
Sindara could not believe her eyes. Is that what Poldaran had planned? No, that just could not be right. Yet, the images had appeared in the sky again. Had she already done it?

She heard a voice in her ear. "Sindara, this is Yadier. I'm speaking to you privately. Tell me, is this as bad as I think it is?"

"Yes," Sindara replied. "What Arthas said was an understatement. Channeling that many souls through her body will damage Poldaran's own soul as they attempt to cling to her. Made worse because she sent them into the nether mana stream. The pieces of her soul that were torn away as they were forced out will not return to her. They were destroyed utterly, just like the other souls."

"She completely destroyed those souls? That's monstrous!"

"You're telling me."

She heard Yadier sigh. "There's no time to discuss the ramifications right now. I have Highlord Fordring breathing down my neck to tell him what happened. What should I say?"

Sindara thought about it for a moment. "Gloss over the details. Just tell him that Poldaran sacrificed a part of herself to weaken the Lich King. Add that it will mean that the forces here will not only become less coordinated, but some will even go feral and start attacking their own people. No need to tell him that the last part is because their souls were utterly destroyed. Just get him focused on how he can use this."

"You're probably right." He swore. "Dammit I hate politics."

Sindara began preparing reagents. She had a feeling there was going to be a rallying push in a few minutes when Yadier and Tirion Fordring were finished with their discussion. This would not be the time to hold back. A show of force would lift the flagging spirits of the defenders and reinvigorate them. It was time to show the world's enemies just what they were made of.

Tirion Fordring did not disappoint. "Crusaders!" he shouted, a mage amplifying his words. "Poldaran the Lichborn has paid a great price today, giving up much of her power to weaken the Lich King's hold on his forces, even if only temporarily. Many will be unable to work together as a unit, and some others will even attack their own. The time for us to strike is now. Hold nothing back. Let's wipe these abominations from Azeroth here and now!"

Azmaria drew her blade and led the charge. "You heard Highlord Fordring! We'll stand together and show them what we can do. We're no one's slaves!"

Sharlot, who had finally collapsed from her efforts, struggled to her feet once more. "Tired? Who said I was tired? No one's going to fall on my watch." She raised her hands to the sky and warm sunlight bathed the crusaders once more.

A pustulent colossus near the front lines was one of the first undead to feel the effects of its souls being destroyed. It began to strike out in anger at anything in reach of its massive club. Envinyata, seeing an opening, motioned to Pasiran. "Get me on that thing's head!" Pasiran couldn't believe what she was being told to do, but didn't argue. She teleported the dwarf where she wanted to go. A few moments later, Envinyata had completed her mind control of the giant. From on top of its head, she shouted, the giant echoing her, "The bigger they are, the harder we'll get to hit them!"

Fennchurch and Raequann charged into the enemy forces and dismounted from their steeds before standing back to back. "Race you to a thousand!" Fennchurch shouted.

"You're on!" the Death Knight responded.

Yadier appeared next to Sindara. "It's like everyone has gone crazy," he commented.

"True enough. But it's pretty effective."

"True." He cast a spell to summon a massive arcane elemental. "You know what they say. When in Orgrimmar and all that."

Sindara laughed. This was going to be fun. She cast the spell she was preparing and a half dozen green lights streaked through the sky. "We'll do this together!" she shouted for the benefit of the crusaders as the hulking Infernals crashed into the middle of the undead swarm.

They battled on for a short time before Sindara noticed that a brilliant white light shone through the clouds to the west. She didn't even want to begin to contemplate just what it meant.

** * **

As the dust settled, Poldaran struggled to rise to her feet. What she had done had taken so much out of her. She doubted she would be able to cast a single spell now, no matter how much her life depended on it. With the Lich King standing just on the other side of her slowly shrinking shield, she realized her life did in fact depend on her being able to cast a spell.

Why had she not planned an escape route? She berated herself for her lack of foresight. It was a mistake so monumentally stupid that she could not believe it.

The Lich King quickly understood the situation. "It seems you've forgotten something. In a scant few moments, your shield will have receded enough for me to be able to reach Frostmourne. When that happens, I think I'm going to enjoy killing you." He laughed. "I must applaud you. I did not think you would truly do it. Such an illogical and senseless act. What did you hope to accomplish?"

Poldaran smiled at him, knowing it would only infuriate him. "If you're so smart, surely you can figure it out."

He surprised her by laughing. "Perhaps it will be an amusing way to pass the time until I can finally kill you." He mused for a moment. "The most obvious answer is that you were trying to save your friends at the tournament, but that argument fails when you consider that you would have helped them more by just fighting alongside them. I would suggest that you were attempting to liberate souls from my grasp, but then you utterly destroyed them, an act more monstrous than I had thought you capable of, so I cannot believe that would be the reason either."

"You're nowhere even close," Poldaran said. In truth she had done it because he would never be able to understand it. He now realized just how much he did not understand her motivations, and thus knew she was too dangerous to try to control. In a few moments, she might die, but she would not become one of the Scourge. She would die free. "Or perhaps not at all," she whispered under her breath suddenly. She began to laugh.

"What is so funny?"

"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," she said mysteriously. "Let's just say that you're going to be in a lot of trouble if Frostmourne isn't in your hands soon."

Within a short moment, the sound of hoofbeats she had felt through the soft soles of her shoes grew thunderous. Only a charger ridden by a righteous crusader sounded like that.

The Lich King grasped the hilt of Frostmourne at the same moment a figure appeared over the top of a nearby hill, sword in hand. Poldaran recognized the blade immediately. It was Yoxutre. She could not quite understand how he had managed to get here, nor how even knew where they would be, but she decided not to question this blessing. "ARTHAS!" the paladin shouted as he bore down upon the Lich King. "You'll pay for your betrayal, for all the lives you've stolen!"

"My old comrade Yoxutre?" Arthas laughed as he said it. "This day keeps getting more interesting. Come, paladin. Let me show you the folly of attacking the King of the Scourge!" He swung his blade at the charging horse, intent on releasing a blast of shadow magic at his foe.

The spell never activated and the blast never came. Poldaran looked at the blade in the Lich King's hand as he simply stood there, perplexed. She laughed as she finally understood. The sudden loss of so many souls had scarred the blade's runes. Without them, the Lich King was unable to use it as a focus for his power. It was a condition that would be reversible, but for right now he would be somewhat vulnerable. Yoxutre had a chance to defeat him for good here and now!

This was not lost on Yoxutre either. He dove from his steed and the sound of their blades crossing rang through the air. Arthas returned his strike, but Yoxutre's shield, buoyed by the power of the Light was more than enough to protect him against the runeblade. "This is impossible!" the Lich King shouted.

"You'll save yourself a lot of headaches if you just stop worrying about what's impossible, Arthas," Yoxutre quipped. "Then again, once I separate your head from your shoulders, I don't think headaches are going to matter." He unleashed a flurry of strokes with Quel'serrar.

The Lich king parried each blow. "You'll have to do better than that!" he raged.

Poldaran suddenly found herself exhausted as the damage to her soul took its toll upon her body. She laid down upon the cold ground. "You boys go ahead and continue playing with your toys," she said softly. "I think I'm just going to lie right here, close my eyes and struggle to breathe."

She paid scant attention to the sounds of the fight going on around her. Agony filled her body with each breath. She could feel death closing in on her. Terror gripped her as she realized that she did not want to die. She wasn't ready. Ready or not, she could feel her grip on consciousness fading. It would all be over soon.

Then a peculiar thing happened. Poldaran suddenly felt warm, and even with her eyes closed, she knew she was bathed in a magnificent light. The pain was gone, but the weariness remained. She struggled to open her eyes, but could not. She felt metal clad arms lift her up against a massive chest clad in the same. She heard the voice of man, thick with a Draenic accent. "Do not worry, little one. We are here for you."

"General," she began, ushering in a fit of coughing. "General Tiras'alan," she whispered. "How is it that you are here?"

Another voice answered, its musical tones playing in her mind instead of within her ears. "A human woman appeared within Shattrath and told A'dal that you were in danger and would die if we did not come to your aid. A'dal sensed no deception in her, so he dispatched every nearby paladin. Since we were in the middle of a war council, that ended up being us. It seems we arrived just in time."

Another voice called out to Yoxutre, Poldaran recognized it as well. It was Liadrin, Nihlus' sister! "Time to get out of here, Yoxutre!" she shouted. "He has dozens of frost wyrms less than a minute from here. We don't have time to defeat him now, you'll have to wait for another day."

"Damn!" Yoxutre shouted, but Poldaran could hear the sound of him running towards them.

Poldaran wanted to ask more, but could not find the strength to speak. Instead she thought her question. Xi'ri responded almost immediately. "Why did we come for you?" it asked. "That's quite simple. I told you before, Poldaran. The Light never forgets its champions." Warmth further enveloped her body. "Now rest, champion."

She did not need further encouragement as she had already drifted off into a deep sleep, one no longer haunted by nightmares. In truth, there was no better place to be.

** * **


Epilogue
Several weeks later, Poldaran found herself on one of the frozen mountains of Dragonblight. She shivered at the chill wind and drew her heavy cloak tight. "Damn those bastards in Dalaran!" she shouted to no one in particular.

She was startled by a voice behind her. "Problems?"

Poldaran took a moment to recover from the surprise. She turned to her companion. "What are you doing here?"

The woman smiled at Poldaran. "Come now, Poldaran, that's not a very nice thing to say to the woman you owe your life to. But if you must know, I'm here because I figured you could use more help. So tell me what you're doing and I'll be glad to help out."

Poldaran sighed in response. "I wouldn't need any help if those jackasses in Dalaran hadn't forced me to wear a power limiter. I mean, I can barely conjure as much magic as a drunk apprentice, yet they think I need my powers further limited? And to ten percent? We'll see what they have to say when I use all my non-magic to stab them in the face with a salad fork. And that's before we even consider that they've confiscated my spellbook and locked it in some vault." She sighed again. "Fine. If you must know, I'm trying to scry into the Ruby Sanctum. My friends are beginning their attack on Halion and his invasion force soon and I want to be sure that they'll be alright."

"That should be simple enough. Give me a moment." The woman gestured with her right hand and snow shot from the ground, forming a sheet. A quick snap of her fingers melted the snow, which quickly reformed into a solid wall of ice. Moments later, an image appeared before them.

"Alright," Yoxutre said, "Alpha team will distract Halion while Beta team will eliminate the smaller units nearby and strike him from behind. Azmaria, I'll need you to lead..." He paused for a moment. "Wait, where did Az go?"

A voice roared through the Sanctum. "Your world teeters on the brink of annihilation. You will ALL bear witness to the coming of a new age of DESTRUCTION!"

Another voice shouted in the distance. "Well, your ass teeters on the brink of getting kicked and your FACE will bear witness to the coming of a new age of being skinned and made into a support garment for an ogre!"

Yoxutre turned to Envinyata. "She didn't just go pull a Corporal Jenkins on us, did she?"

"It appears she did, lad," the dwarven woman responded.

"Alright, new plan, everyone," Yoxutre said, unsheathing his sword. "CHARGE!"

The image faded and Poldaran laughed in spite of herself. "Yeah, they'll be fine." The two woman stood in silence for several minutes before Poldaran spoke again. "I wanted to thank you for all you did during that battle."

"All I did was appear before A'dal and let him know what was happening."

"That's a lie and you know it. Envi tells me that I appeared to them and gave them hints for the battle, but I know that I did no such thing, so it must have been you, using some kind of illusion magic."

Her companion smiled. "You caught me. I just couldn't let you die, not yet. I have a feeling that you're going to be even more needed in the coming months."

"Not that I'll do much good without my magic, unless perhaps you know a way to heal me?"

"Afraid not, Pold. You're going to have to spend the next ten or fifteen years at diminished capacity. Not much we can do about that." Her smile turned into a grin. "But we can't let them hang on to your spellbook, too many dangerous spells in there that you copied from Medivh's notes, and you know that they won't be able to keep from reading it for long. I know someone who can teach you how to remove that power limiter. Interested?"

It wasn't what she was hoping for, but it was something, and Poldaran found herself more excited by the prospect than she should have been. "Of course! Just tell me who I need to talk to and I'll go."

"I'll do you one better," the other woman said, tossing something to Poldaran, who caught it without thinking.

Poldaran suddenly found herself indoors. The room she was in seemed incredibly familiar from the stone floor to the numerous books piled neatly upon the shelves lining the walls. Someone behind her cleared his throat and she realized where she was. "That's it. When salad fork stabby time comes, I'm stabbing her first," she said under her breath.

Poldaran turned to see an older gentleman with a short white beard sitting at the massive desk behind her. He smiled warmly as he stood. "My, my, Poldaran, she said you would be visiting me, but she never told me what a beautiful young woman you had become."

Poldaran ran around the desk and embraced the man she had not seen in several years, a few tears streaming down her cheek. "Hello, Grandfather. It seems we have much to discuss."

Edited, Oct 19th 2010 9:50am by Poldaran