QElwynD
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Scourge - 1
🕑 Added 2023-05-06 09:00:03 +0000 UTCIt took longer than I liked to admit to recover from the bombshell that Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider had dropped on me, staring at my door with a growing sense of dread and a lead weight in my stomach. The real Third War had begun, and there was little time until it came to a head.
What followed was a frantic flurry of packing, grabbing everything I had brought with me and the few trinkets I had picked up in the city for friends and family – my last chance, maybe anyone's last chance for some of them – and stuffing them into my bag. Only Rokkri's feather did I keep close at hand. I needed to get home, I needed to warn Darius and ensure that preparations started at the wall. The Scourge wouldn't reach Gilneas for weeks, there was still time to establish additional defences, but every moment counted.
And, critically, there was now a reason for the buildup and strengthening of the wall, for calling the militias and drilling soldiers, for putting the stockpiles of powder and shot to use. Lordaeron burned, and with its burning any pretence of peaceful times was gone.
There was just one last thing to do before I departed Dalaran.
Sprinting through the streets, the winter sun still high in the sky, I ignored the sights and sounds of the city. There were signs things were amiss, guards jogging through the city, mages being summoned to their duties and moving with a purpose, but the general populace was as of yet unaware. A young mage animated a snow golem in a plaza to fight with her friends, stores hawked their wares, and people lived life. They didn't know, they couldn't know – not yet.
I found her on one of the piers of Dalaran's docks, overlooking Lordamere Lake where longshoremen worked furiously to load ships with supplies and soldiers and mages geared for war clambered aboard. The raven was here again, its head watching the horizon with sorrow of its own.
"They're going to aid the capital." I spoke aloud between heavy breaths, stepping up beside Jaina. "There were survivors. Would be survivors. This..."
"Will be too late to stop him." She said, her anguished gaze turning from the distant horizon towards me. "Will you come with me, to Kalimdor? You know more of that land than any other, and if what you have told me of the kaldorei is correct then they would look more kindly upon you than myself. I would... I will need advisers to aid me and I wish for you to be one of them."
"No." I shook my head, looking at the raven for a moment. "I made my decision years ago. Gilneas is my home, it survives what is coming... I trust that you will succeed, that you will save the world." And I was scared, scared of the war. Of going to Kalimdor and placing myself in the path of the Legion. "I've invested greatly in bringing Gilneas out of isolation after this war, worked to push our path towards one where we can help rebuild what was lost, prevent the Alliance from floundering in the aftermath of the destruction of Lordaeron. But I can't save the world; you're the hero of this story, Jaina."
She snatched up my arm, holding it before her. "There can be more than one hero in a story," she said firmly, wrapping something around my wrist. "Sir Turalyon, Lady Alleria, High Thane Kurdran, Commander Trollbane, Archmage Khadgar. The Sons of Lothar are all heroes of the Second War – if you can consider me, who failed Arthas and let him walk on this path, a hero, then you are too."
Her, Thrall, Malfurion, Tyrande, Uther, Cairne... this war had no shortage of heroes. Whether I might be remembered as one or not only time could tell.
I didn't feel I deserved it, but I didn't feel the need to deny it either.
"Arthas' path was his own, but yours has barely begun. I'll find someone to send with you, someone I trust." I said, looking at the necklace bearing the Anchor of Kul Tiras she had wrapped around my wrist. "Good luck, Jaina. May the frozen winds of Hodir, the Father of Winter and Breaker of Storms, answer your call."
With one last smile, I plucked the midnight black feather from my hair and twisted, pulling on the light-drinking essence at my core, and changed. The feather swirled about my form until it settled upon my skin. With a loud croak I stretched my wings and took to the air, circling above as the wind sang with joy and lifted me up.
The raven who had been following my time in Dalaran took flight and followed me, his own deep reverberating call telling me how to correct my wingbeats.
Jaina laughed as she watched the two of us fly higher and higher. "Are all prophets ravens in disguise?" she wondered aloud. "Tides guide you home, Gwyneth. Tides and winds guide us all home."
-oOoOo-
After three days on the wing, Crowford came into sight; the jubilant song of the wind guided me home throughout the days of flying. Updraughts and tailwinds had followed me the entire trip, the wind not letting up for a single moment while I was in my raven form, rejoicing me joining it in the sky on my own terms, and speeding me on my way.
The raven had stayed with me until the end of the first day, when I had stopped with tired and sore wings unused to flight. He had shown me how to fly properly, guiding me to catch updraughts and when to glide rather than press on. The instincts for how to move were already there, baked into the essence I had made part of myself, but it still took time to learn – time to remove that conscious belief that I could fall if I stopped beating my wings, and let the air itself do the lifting.
I was thankful for the lessons he had taught me, glad he had kept on with me until I stopped, but honestly... if Medivh wanted to talk he really should just stop and talk. I gave him more than enough of an opportunity when I made camp that evening. I wasn't entirely sure what I would say to him if I did, he already knew what was at stake...
But I would hardly refuse a chance to speak with Azeroth's Guardian in his uncorrupted state.
Reaching my home I dove down into the welcoming embrace of my garden, startling Heather and the students she was teaching there as I landed in the grass. After a moment a raven in the trees started chortling; my landings still needed work. Picking myself up I shot Heather a look before flapping my way around the house and out of sight.
Turning back into a human from a raven was different from doing it as a fox. The transition was stronger and stranger, the sense of Azeroth's magnetic field that gave me absolute certainty as to where north and south were vanishing, leaving me momentarily disorientated. It was easier now that it had been the first time, but when one added the sense I'd gained for the light falling into my hair – or feathers – being amplified greatly by my raven form, it was like losing my sense of hearing completely all of a sudden.
And the wind dulled and dimmed, fading away from a jubilant song to the whispers in the trees once more.
Stepping out again I pointed at the raven which had laughed at me. "You! Message for the Speaker of Ravens: Arthas has returned and it has begun. She needs to be here as soon as physically possible."
The urgency of my words got through to the bird, its laughter stopping. "Yes." It croaked, taking wing immediately. "Going, speaker going."
"Gwen! You're back!" Trix ran up to me, the other students and Heather following behind her. "How'd you get here? I didn't see you arrive! Heather said you went to Dalaran, like you did before, what's it like there."
Smiling at my apprentice – she'd gotten taller again, though she was still a little shorter than me – I shook my head. "Sorry Twix, but things are going to be busy. I'll have to be teaching you as I work for a while."
"It's the thing, isn't it?" Heather asked, wringing her hands nervously. "That you've been preparing for."
Heather was on my shortlist for sending to Jaina. A witch, someone I trusted, familiar with sailing, a windcaller... the only thing that could hold her back from being the best choice was her desire for a peaceful life.
"Yeah." I nodded. "It is."
-oOoOo-
"King Terenas II was killed by Prince Arthas Menethil eight days past and the undead have sacked the capital of Lordaeron." Darius said bluntly to the assembled group; Bishop Warren, Sir Magroth, Speakers Aderic and Celestine, Adept Frazzle, Lord Tobias Mistmantle, and half a dozen other minor lords who had been summoned to listen. I stood apart from them, alongside Lorna as a member of Darius' retinue in this moment. "Witch Arevin returned from Dalaran with this news three days past and preparations are already underway. I have called my militia and have them drilling for expected combat and have called for reinforcements to the wall on all fronts."
Bishop Warren frowned. "The undead were beaten, were they not? Defeated and broken."
I shook my head. "No, they were not. As was proven to me in Dalaran their 'defeat' was little more than a trick, every corpse contaminated with the Plague of Undeath remains ready to rise with the will of even the most incompetent of necromancers."
"And you expect this army of the dead to attack us." One of the lords said sceptically.
"As Warden of the Wall, it is my duty to defend Gilneas against any and all threats." Darius met the lord’s eyes with his own eyes, glaring him into submission. "An army of the dead that claims that they will scourge the world of the living seems a foe that I must defend against. If you will not serve, Ardman, I will find another to take your seat once your cowardice is made plain to all."
"I merely supposed that mustering the militias is premature." Lord Ardman said deferentially. "Should Gilneas come under attack, my men and I stand ready to obey, Lord Crowley."
Sir Magroth bowed his head. "Light guide His Majesty and grant him rest." He prayed, shining with Light as he held his fist over his heart. "This is the tide of darkness you foresaw, is it not? The fall of the prince, the return of the dead, the death of a great king..." His eyes bore into mine but I stood firm. "The coming days will be dark, but I swear upon the Light I shall stand with Gilneas to the last. Speak, Warden of the Wall, and bid me as you will."
Darius had frowned when Magroth revealed my foresight and drawn the attention of the others to me, but he did not rebuke him, merely nodding as Sir Magroth finished talking. "Keep training Sister Roper in the Light until she is ready to join you at the wall. The Plague cannot be so easily cured, but an additional healer will prove invaluable to our soldiers."
"The undead are as vulnerable to the Light as a demon is, so it may be channelled in offence as well as healing." I offered.
"It is my intent to request all that I am able from both the Church of Dawn and the Order of Amber to aid in the defence of the wall. There are also other matters, as many still filter through the wall and those numbers will grow exponentially in the coming days." Darius looked pained as he continued. "Without adequate shelter, they will not survive the winter. Without manpower to manage the quarantine, we shall not be able to process them all. Sickness and disease will be common, and though food is of little concern at this time a lessening of the burden on my coffers would be welcome."
I glanced at Darius worriedly; his mention of money reminded me that I had, somewhat foolishly, been treating him as someone with near-infinite funds. I didn't know how he was supporting all that he had so far, from the Kalimdor Expedition to further actions, but it couldn't last forever.
Aderic stood, his fox mask clicking against his chest. "The Order of Amber stands in support of the Warden of the Wall. We saved Gilneas from famine and will not allow its people, or any who shelter within our fair nation, to freeze to death. I cannot offer much in the way of military aid at this time..." He and Celestine both looked to me.
"My apprentices and I have worked on creating true storms, with thunderous lightning and howling winds." I said, my stomach turning at the thought of bringing Trix to the front. And yet, even above Heather, she was the best at mimicking my Hurricane spell so far. She'd been with me during my practise in the autumn, after all. "Either in a circle or alone, any witch capable of calling the rain can contribute to defending Gilneas."
"You've my magic too!" Frazzle piped up. "I can start enchanting cannon balls tomorrow. You have lots of those, don't you? Cannon, I mean."
Lord Mistmantle stifled a snort. "Yes, an absurd number. Half of the Gilnean fleet's cannon now line the northern wall. I will order new powder bunkers built at Northglade, Lord Crowley, but my fief does not have the facilities to produce it."
"That is a matter for the capital." Darius agreed. "Bishop Warren, can you speak for the Church in this matter?"
She hesitated, looking up at the imposing figure of Sir Magroth who stood stoically, but with clear sadness on his face. "I cannot speak for the entire church, but I commit my Bishopric of Severnvale as a shelter for refugees. Further..." She clasped her hands in front of herself. "You must understand, we are not a martial order. Never in my life have I cast a spell in anger."
"Do not feel guilt for shying away from the field of battle." Sir Magroth said comfortingly. "Merely serve as best you are able, granting solace to those in need with the Light, and you shall have done your part. Lord Crowley, as a veteran of the Second War, knows well the value of a healer."
"I would take a priest who did nothing but mend wounds over a mage who slung fireballs any day." Lord Mistmantle agreed.
"Then under the condition that none shall be made to fight who do not wish to, I commit my acolytes to any defence of the wall. The Archbishop must be convinced for more to be given." The bishop said, her eyes closed. "May Light grace us so that such actions are not needed."
There was far more to be said, and the meeting continued on for hours yet; Lorna would ride Donovan beyond the wall to act as a scout, warning us of Scourge movements. I knew that I would accompany her when and where I could, and even make flights of my own, but my talents would be best served elsewhere much of the time.
Unlike anyone else, I had a way of detecting the Plague. The putrid magic I had encountered in Dalaran would serve as an early warning if any sought to infiltrate the wall, and it would allow a way for those uninfected to bypass quarantine as I could single out those afflicted with the Plague. Training other witches was going to be of vital consideration, also. My Astral magic, my storm spells, the power I could put behind them, all were essential for any witch that wished to fight rather than heal.
The Scourge had come close to breaking Gilneas, requiring the worgen to save us, in the timeline that would never be. This time we would be prepared – there would be no desperate defence where men's lives were spent foolishly without the backing of magic.
After the meeting ended, we retired to one of Darius' more private parlours. Only those who already knew the true reason I had gone to Dalaran accompanied me.
"Are you aware of the trouble your trip caused, Gwyneth?" Celestine asked as we sat, her eyes fixated upon me. "There was much talk in the capital of you abandoning Gilneas, running off with an archmage, questions of the order's legitimacy compared to Dalaran that resulted from it."
Aderic scoffed, seating himself on the floor and leaning against a bookshelf. "Mere rumour. As many were fascinated by the thought we attracted an archmage all the way from Dalaran, that we had claimed a personal apprentice of one and kept her. The true question is whether she believes it was worthwhile."
"She needs to learn that her actions have consequences, Aderic." Celestine chided.
"Gwyneth is hardly reckless." Lorna countered.
I shook my head. "I messed up at the ball. I got angry. And it wasn't even at the right person." I looked to Darius, who sat impassively, waiting on my answer to Aderic's question. "They won't succeed – maybe if their efforts in Lordaeron had worked, if the capital hadn't fallen... but it did. But that doesn't matter, what matters is that if a single person lives who would otherwise have died because of my actions, then they were worthwhile. They know now, how Dalaran would fall, and when the battle is lost. When they must flee."
"Something well worth knowing." Darius inclined his head to me. "What of the Proudmoore?"
He already knew that, I'd debriefed him fully already – he was prompting me.
"Aderic, Celestine, we need someone to go to Kalimdor with Jaina and the expedition. The night elves and Cenarius–"
"Wait." Aderic held up his hand. "This matter shall wait until I speak with our mutual friend, he should have input on who is sent as emissary to his kin."
Biting my lip, I nodded. What if he asked me to reveal everything to someone I didn't trust? Would I have to unveil all that I was to a stranger if my god chose them? It wasn't a pleasant thought. One I didn't like at all, but...
Yes, I would, I would do it because it was necessary – and if Lord Renard made a choice, if my god made a choice, I would follow his lead and trust in his wisdom.
Even if I didn't agree.
-oOoOo-
Learning from Tobias that Vivi had returned to the capital, taking up the queen on her offer of training with the Royal Guard with furious determination, was both a relief and saddening. I was glad she hadn't followed through on her self-sabotage, hadn't missed an opportunity to improve herself that would so desperately be needed, but I was also sad she wasn't going to be with me.
It was tempting to fly after her, to chase her down and put the fight we'd had behind us – to make up and give myself a chance to cry on her shoulder from the weight I felt knowing the Third War had started.
"Clear." I said, signalling the gate guards to usher the gaggle of refugees through the wall.
But, chasing after Vivi would have been the height of irresponsibility right now. No one else could detect the Plague, no one else could discern if someone was infected, and while the quarantine period worked, it was a complicated and messy affair that took an immense amount of men to run. Having me offer a faster path through didn't entirely lessen that burden, and increased it in some ways, but it offered the hope of getting through and a clear sign things were moving.
So long as a queue was moving people didn't get angry about it, so long as they could count down the people, or time, until they were through, they would be more at ease. Something necessary, as rumours about what happened in Lordaeron to burn the sky orange and red were already filtering south.
Another group of refugees was brought in, and I stood to walk past them, sending out a wave of healing magic to wash over them. Scratches and weariness were healed, the refugees perking up and startling, but... that wasn't why I was doing it. "Her, Sergeant. The woman in brown and red." I whispered tiredly.
She was outwardly healthy, if rather pale and still tired looking despite my spell, and stood with a child clutched at one side while a man held her waist from the other. Looking closely it was easy enough for me to see the Plague within her, the way the twisting knot of sickness and rot roiled as it ate away at her from the inside. My magic had disturbed it, as it had in the others, and pushed it to corrupt my spell with sickening green tendrils.
As much as it was a plague it was a curse, rotting Death and sickening Fel magic that fed upon the victim's Life and converted it into what would animate them in death. Using my magic on the victims disturbed it, made it fight against the healing, and even turn it against the victim.
"And him, the felt hat and... him. The boy with the baby." I grimaced as I looked at the two others, one of them a boy under ten who was carrying a baby on unsteady feet beside his mother. "They're all infected. No one else."
"Understood." Sergeant Fallan said, moving to give the orders that would see them separated and the remained let through the wall.
They weren't the first infected I'd seen today, weren't even the first twenty. Out of the thirty-six groups of twenty that I'd helped through the wall today roughly one in fifteen was infected. Sometimes in entire job lots, sometimes in families and groups, sometimes in oddly isolated ones and twos. People condemned to death that I couldn't do anything to save.
Dropping myself into my seat on the Gilneas side of the gate, I tried not to focus on what was happening as the refugees protested the separation of wives and children. Tricks hopped into my lap, curling up and purring comfortingly as I scratched her ears. I really, really wished Vivi could be here so I could cry on her shoulder for a bit.
This was just the start and it wasn't going to get any easier.
More refugees came through, more infected were found and corralled away. Not sent outside the wall to die, but moved into a separate camp where they would be kept under guard and given comfort until they passed.
Darius had ordered that even those that died beyond the wall be brought into Gilneas to be buried, and there were already graveyards built that would need my magic to disrupt the necromantic magic within. I wasn't going to be alone in that, at least; a test with Trix showed that any witch could do it rather than just me. It was just the two of us for now, but more would be coming.
"End of the line!" Commander Hersham bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of people jostling to be let through the wall. "Route's closing for the evening! Return to your camps and we will continue processing tomorrow!"
I swallowed back my protest that I could do more, morphing it into a yawn. Even if Darius had given me absolute authority on whether someone was to be declared infected, this wasn't my operation. If the commander ordered it stopped, it was to be stopped.
And the sun had set an hour ago, the night illuminated by my lights, it would be time to rest soon. I still needed to finish trimming the book I made for Jaina to have less specific components I’d written for her and send it back for another printing run; whoever from the order went to Kalimdor deserved to have their own copy to hold onto. The whole Kalimdor expedition did.
"Good work, Lady Arevin." Commander Hersham said as the gates were cranked shut for the night. "Made a solid dent in the men and women out there. Don't know how you do it, and don't need to, but it got them to quieten down for a while."
Looking at the gates and hearing the yells on the other side, held back by sturdy wood and steel, I frowned. "Not for long. And there'll be a lot more coming. A lot more."
"Well, the Society'll be bringing more folk here soon." He said, sounding a little sceptical of my statement. "My nephew amongst them. If anyone can figure out a cure or test for this plague malarkey it's them. If it's resistant to magic hit it with good old-fashioned medicine and bloodletting."
His words hardly assuaged my worries, and I really hoped that the Royal Alchemical Society had moved past bloodletting as a curative method.
