Jainas little brother Tandred held onto her arms as hard as his clumsy mittens allowed him and stumbled on the ice as Jaina danced with him around and around on the crystal clear surface. He laughed and screamed and she laughed too, and had not another care in the world. His cheeks were too red and they should really have been going inside at least an hour ago but with the little time she had to see him Jaina wanted to make the very most of every hour she could be home to visit. She had just begun to master portal magics so perhaps she could use it as an excuse to go home more and claim that she needed to train.
Suddenly Tandred looked up on her in terror. Jaina looked down in alarm and the ice was no longer crystal clear but black underneath. With a deafening crash it broke all around them and she felt them being sucked down into the water with ice floes everywhere and numbing immediately from the stupefying cold. She tried to scream to Tandred but only managed to fill her mouth with water and make her lungs burn.
Down, further down, she saw someone sinking even faster and she knew it was her father. He looked up and reached with his arm for her but he was too far away.
Jaina woke with a terrified scream, followed by intense pain when she realised she must have banged her leg against the desk when she startled. Her back ached as well from the unnatural sleeping position bent over a too low desk.
Jaina sighed and slumped down again with her head in her hands.
She knew all too well what that had been about of course. She had seen Tandred for the last time in the spring when the snow was melting in Kul Tiras and Tandred was bored of everything being wet and soggy. Jaina had misused her frost magic something terrible and conjured an entire floor of smooth ice for them right on a drenched and muddy meadow. Tandred had been so happy.
The following summer the plague had struck Lordaeron. The next spring Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore had set sail towards Kalimdor to never return again.
The chair felt too small. Jaina realised there was something behind her. She searched with her hand to find one of her blankets. She distinctly remembered not bringing it with her from her bed last evening. She did however have a pretty clear idea who had draped it over her sleeping form hunched over the desk.
Jainas elbow touched something on the desk. Sure enough, there was a short note with her Kaldorei bodyguard Paineds distinct handwriting.
”My Lady,
As you will not heed mine or anyones spoken words of council I must try my best with the written.
I will defend you with my life from any foe or any danger that I can.
I can not protect you from yourself if you insist on working yourself to death.
Pained”
Jaina sighed again. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to sleep. By all means, Jaina would admit that she was an incurable bookworm when something gripped her interest and her education as a mage had been filled with one frantic all-nighter after the other. But when she slept she had used to sleep soundly and snoozed well into the next day.
It was just that now she dreaded the nights and all her rest could probably be attributed to her absolute exhaustion and Paineds herbal tea. But not even that could keep Jainas nightmares away.
On their own accord, Jainas eyes were drawn to another letter, the one she would always pick up again and again and again.
”Jaina,
I only write this last letter to you to assure you, for the sake of Kul Tiras, that our nations are not at war and Kul Tiras will not waste its blood seeking retribution against Theramoore for a crime that its ruler herself is guilty of.
I can only wonder when the daughter that I had died and became replaced by a monster who would side with savage beasts against her own father and her own kin.
I hope that you live long and never for one day forget what you have done.
You are no daughter of mine.
Lord Admiral Katherine Proudmoore”
Jaina would never see her home again.
She would never see her father.
She would never see her mother.
She would never see Tandred.
She was clutching her fathers anchor-shaped pendant that hung around her neck. Her tears were already running down along her nose. Jaina hurriedly put the letter away to keep it from being smeared.
A few minutes later she heard a discreet knock on her door. Grumbling, Jaina dragged herself up to open it, blinking owlishly. There was nobody there, but on the stool beside the doorway stood a hot cup of Kaldorei tea.
Oh.
Pained deserved better.
***
Sylvanas and six of her rangers loosed the first arrows into the backs of the patrol of Scarlet Crusade infantry. Seven footmen in mail and pot helmets cried out and collapsed on the ground. It was not a blind volley, they had each taken their time to aim before Sylvanas whistled to them to loose. The rest of the twenty or so strong unit turned on the spot and raised their shields to charge their ambushers but a second squadron of dark rangers rose from the other side to shot at their now exposed backs. The confusion allowed Sylvanas’ time for a quick volley after which they had to close in or run away. This time close in.
Sylvanas sidestepped a spear thrust and cut the arm with one of her daggers while whirling inside the soldiers guard to slash at his throat with the other. She was at the flank of the formation and leapt at the back of another footman engaging the opposing ranger squad. She landed with both daggers cutting down into his neck and rolled to the side when he collapsed to the ground. Her next opponent made Sylvanas stagger back to avoid a sweep from her shield but Cyndia crashed into her from the side and thrust her short sword into her armpit where the footmans, or footwomans in this case, breastplate did not protect.
That was the last of it. Sylvanas cast a quick glance around.
”Report!”
”All good!” Kalira answered.
”Two wounded, not serious.” Anya followed up.
Sylvanas took a look. Kitala and Lyana in Anyas squadron had taken the brunt of the Scarlet charge and paid with taking a pair of slashes across the legs and a spear into the shoulder. Neither was fatal for the undead but would impede them for some time. On the ground some of the enemies were moving but they would soon be bleeding out. Her rangers were nothing if not accurate.
”Drain what you need and then end the dying ones. The rest, take spoils and spread out and keep watch. We’ll leave as soon as possible.”
The Scarlet Crusade was sweeping the area with patrols that spread out from company strength columns of up to a hundred or so that made up the main body in the centre, trailed by supply wagons and the few pack animals they had available. They were aiming to hunt down and catch undead and clearing them out of the forest rather than facing a prepared military force. Sylvanas conceded that the assessment was all too close to the truth.
Her counter with a ranger force was to let them pass while using the rangers superior stealth to hide between the paths of two patrols, and then strike at the rear and destroy the logistics corps as much as possible before melting back into the woods. The company would be forced to retreat before long to resupply and the wrong direction of the attack from the enemy rear would lead the Scarlets to consequently search in the wrong direction. Sylvanas had scouted their patrols thoroughly earlier and after continuing from the rear in a wide semi-circle her rangers had now destroyed the outmost one on the left flank, after which they would retreat back for the Undercity.
It would not work forever of course, the enemy would reinforce their rear and adopt closer formations, or hide elite units among them to ambush the ambushers. But for now it would have to do. She could barely spare even this force of herself and two ranger squadrons but this Scarlet column had been necessary to turn away. And it felt good to lead from the front among her dark rangers for a change. Undeath may have dulled their some of their senses but none of their skills, and her rangers were as deadly as ever. How proud she was of them.
On the way back to the Undercity Sylvanas let her thoughts drift. They were laden with scavenged equipment from the patrol they had destroyed, taking the better of arms and armour. The Undercity was lacking everything. The few battle ready troops Sylvanas could command needed to patrol and stand guard as well as raid like simple pillagers due to their own lack of mining and production. She had to get that going as well. It would be best to start with something simple, like arrows. Arrows were always a sound choice in any scenario.
By now they knew the Scarlet Crusade more than enough. The filthy humans were relentless zealots who defied common, and to a certain degree military, sense and reason in their fanatical campaign against all undead. They bled and could be frightened like anyone else, but as a whole they would not be dislodged or discouraged by losing important strategic points or having the supply lines cut off. Come winter the Scarlet Crusade would ponder on how tracking the undead through the snow could best be done, not on how to keep their soldiers clothed and fed.
In that way they were uncomfortably close to the Scourge. The Scourge remained, and in Sylvanas’ opinion would always remain, the greatest threat to the Forsaken but currently their activity was low. Whether that was a deliberate decision or due to waning influence of the Lich King was impossible to say. Sylvanas had been not a little surprised at how irregular the loss of his control had been. New Forsaken would be coming out of some areas in dozens while other were infested with murderous ghouls. It could not be exclusively linked to the power or distance of the Lich King which she had first believed, but on the other hand maybe it was encouraging if an individuals personal strength and spirit played a part in how easily she could be chained to another will.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Hours later, they were coming upon the Undercity. A small part of Sylvanas relaxed as always seeing the city still in ruins but not going up in flames at least. There were new Forsaken gathering at the city every day now but they were suffering heavy casualties in people who did not make it through the Scourge and the Scarlets. The rangers tried to be everywhere at once and Sylvanas knew that she was running them ragged, undead or not, but they were always too few. Like now, where she had attained a welcome success but at the price of weakening someone else's position.
She wanted to seek out more rangers who could have freed themselves, and preferably more Forsaken fit to join the Dreadguards and similar regular units. She felt selfish for wanting that though, and angry at herself for that feeling. It was a stupid feeling. The Forsaken, even Sylvanas herself, were just a means to an end, Arthas’ end to be precise, as she always told herself. She would find a way to work the weakness of those feelings of doubt out of her.
Back into her personal chambers, or office as it was more like in practice, Sylvanas approved the plans for the new barracks submitted by Varimathras and considered summoning him but decided not to.
Varimathras. The dreadlord was a constant source of irritation. Sylvanas had lost track of how many times she had regretted not taking his head and be done with it. But she still needed his usefulness for as long as possible and he was a capable administrator with still crucial insights into Lordaerons current state. She had no margins for wastefulness, not even when it came to condescending demons that she knew would eventually betray her. Sylvanas lacked the interest and patience for civic issues while Varimathras, like the dreadlord he was, seemed to take a keen interest in how much he could manipulate forth from his workforce. Sylvanas was at heart still a Ranger-General, she led her people at war and out in the field, not in everyday matters.
But her leadership could be called into question lately. Sylvanas thought of Alina and her own neglect. She had found her herself, damn it! She should’ve known better than to leave her alone to face her past like that. It was not unusual with rangers and death knights raging after recovering their will and they had lost two of the rangers to that previously. They had wandered off to seek death against the Scarlet Crusade and Sylvanas had found their bodies hacked to pieces among droves of bodies of Scarlet soldiers. That, she suspected, was part of the reason why they had been coming closer to sniffing out the Undercity lately. She had buried Somand Wayfinder and Siren Ghostsong herself, burning the bodies so the Scourge would never be able to bring them back into thraldom again. After that Sylvanas had issued a standing order that no assignments outside the Undercity were to be handled by rangers on their own without her express permission. They would need to work in pairs like they had in life, despite their new abilities and strengths as undead.
And then she had been stupid enough to allow newly acquired rangers to handle their downtime alone. Sylvanas slumped in her chair, feeling weary in her mind rather than her body.
Although Alina hadn’t actually been alone.
Sylvanas considered the dwarves. They had left for Alliance territories further south a week ago, escorted by Amoras squadron including Alina who had continued to keep them company whenever she had time off. The dwarves had left permanently she was sure, it was just a most likely futile gesture of good will to send them packing with an escort. But if Alina was happy about it Sylvanas owed it to her to some extent and Amora would use the mission to scout deeply into the practically unknown parts of southern Lordaeron on the way back.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an urgent knock on the door. It was Areiel.
”The far ranging party is back.” she informed, and her omittance of titles told Sylvanas something was urgent. ”You better come and hear this yourself.”
***
An hour later Sylvanas had summoned her Council of War, meaning her ranger captain and lieutenants, four other Forsaken commanders and Varimathras. Areiel was briefing them all but Sylvanas ignored it for the moment, having heard the report already.
Amoras escort had not been the only patrol Sylvanas had sent out on a long range mission.
Anthis Sunbow had led a squadron to the southeast, heading deep into Scourge infested provinces. Their mission was to trace the steps of the Forsaken envoys heading into Alliance territory in that direction. They had believed them ambushed by Scarlet forces or Scourge but Sylvanas was running out of options and wanted to be sure, if possible, about what had happened and why. The rangers had escorted them through the thick of the Scourge lands but then withdrawn. Anthis had continued along the trail, following a combination of very meagre tracks, the agreed upon route and sets of secret signals left by their envoys to show where they had passed.
”The trail continues down to the borders of the human nation of Stromgarde which is the northernmost Alliance territory apart from Aerie Peak and Dalaran.” Anthis Sunbow concluded her report. ”We scoured the borderlands for four days and the trace ends there, but we spotted the remains of a pyre of something by the closest border post. It may mean nothing, but…
Sylvanas silenced her with a gesture.
The envoys had been good people – hardy, brave and experienced Forsaken human soldiers who knew the woods and the Alliance militaries, and among the best preserved and…presentable of them. They should have had a good chance to push through and find common ground with their living colleagues if anyone could. And pushed through they had apparently managed, but then…
The council was silent. Even Varimathras held his tongue, his expression unreadable.
Kalira was the first to speak up.
”Since nobody wants to be first to mention this ugly truth I will. The envoys we send are being killed on sight. This latest report just confirms what we have suspected all along.”
”Not Quel’Thalas though.” said Anya in a small and sad voice.
”No, of course not by our dear kin in Quel’Thalas.” Kalira sneered.
Sylvanas could understand Anyas sadness as well as Kaliras bitterness. The Blood Elves, as they now called themselves, had been the only nation who had allowed their emissaries to leave unmolested but perhaps mostly because the rangers had gone themselves and in force. They had been met by living rangers, who told them with cold eyes to turn back and that they would receive no second warning. Sylvanas suspected it was no empty threat. Elven rangers did not make those. Sylvanas had not joined that expedition, aware that the animosity against her person after Arthas’ had paraded her and forced her to commit open atrocities as a way to break the remaining elves morale may impact any negotiation negatively. Something inside her had still broken when she had been told the tale of rangers she had had trained herself turning their backs upon their own former comrades, who had stood and died for Quel’Thalas hardly a year before. A few days after the news had spread Somand and Siren had gone to seek their true deaths against the Scarlet Crusade and the first serious infighting had broken out between those Forsaken who clung to their old identities and those who wanted to embrace their undeath as a new beginning and turn their back upon the living as a whole. Sylvanas for herself considered both sentiments useless extremes but she keenly recognized the impact this kind of news would have on the Undercity.
”There are always the options of using living messengers.” Varimathras suggested.
There were. The idea was not new and they had discussed it at length. They could either capture prisoners and send them off with letters but that would be as random as leaving letters mysteriously at foreign nations borders with no way of knowing if and how they had been received. The other option was to use the banshees to possess the living instead but while the tactic was sound for gathering information – which was why banshees could excel at spying if they could only control their emotions – mimicking a high ranking representatives mannerisms before a wide audience was something else entirely. The day may come when Sylvanas grew desperate enough to risk it but it still did not address the actual root of the problem. If the living would not trust the Forsaken as a people, or even see them as people and not monsters, it would in the end matter little who they sent to represent them.
”No.” said Sylvanas finally and rose form her seat. ”The risks are not worth it.”
The rest of the council rose after her and she nodded raptly to them.
”We are alone. The world does not want us.” Anya mused quietly to nobody in particular and her resigned, hollow voice echoed in Sylvanas’ ears.
***
Sylvanas wandered the keep alone, the earlier meeting gnawing at her mind. She needed to think.
Her mind lingered for a moment on the dwarves who would perhaps be walking to their doom if they declared themselves to be her envoys, or at least never be taken seriously. But they would not have been sincere about helping her anyway so the question was moot.
This could not go on. They could not sustain this. Arthas had taken the bulk of Raised undead fighters to Northrend and left the others. The dark rangers and the banshees had been left mostly in Lordaeron for their tracking skills and likely in mistrust after her little farewell arrow. There would be no great force of battle-ready Forsaken waiting to be discovered.
Turning their backs on every living was perhaps a way for oneself to cope with the inevitable but not a viable strategy for someone in charge. The Forsaken needed allies.
Perhaps her mind was still unconsciously on Alina but for whatever reason Sylvanas found herself walking the corridor towards the keeps library. Not particularly strange for someone intending to think things over quietly, but usually not her way of doing things either.
The library was still in disarray after Alinas outburst. Sylvanas absent-mindedly pick up an old book here or and old document there. She preferred having something to do with her hands when she was thinking.
What ally would join the Forsaken? It should be simple, everyone should despise or fear the Scourge more than them and wish to unite against the Lich King. The Forsaken did in some ways possess crucial insight into the strengths and weaknesses of the Scourge. Common military logic called for at least putting an alliance with such an enemy of ones enemy into serious consideration.
But evidently it didn’t. Sylvanas tried to look at herself as a new Ranger-General decades ago. There hadn’t been undead in question then but the humans and their Alliance. And Quel’Thalas had put it off to the last moment, indeed far past the last moment, to join forces against the orcs that ransacked their land and murdered Sylvanas’ parents and little brother Lirath. But they had joined forces at last and there had never been a question of blockading or sabotaging the humans war efforts in any way. No, she would not have turned down a chance to have aid against the orcs, or the Amani trolls for that matter.
Would she now join sides with a renegade Scourge against Arthas? Sure thing, so long as they stayed out of Lordaeron. She would even had let the dreadlords be if they had stayed out of their way, they could serve as a distraction for the Lich King if nothing else.
There was also the polar opposite policy to think about. Someone so far away that they did not need to fear the Forsaken as an immediate threat, but still able to serve as a check upon the hostile parts of the Alliance and upon the Scarlet Crusade, provided the latter would let such small concerns get in their way.
Dalaran was closest but severely weakened from Arthas’ assault and would surely harbour an especially bitter grudge against any undead for that. Still, theoretically worth a try if for some implausible reason her letters would in fact be delivered.
Stormwind, as the Alliances presumed new head, had not worked and Quel’Thalas rebuffed them. Gilneas was reputedly closed off from the world. Khaz Modan was said to be almost as insular in itself despite sending substantial troops to the Alliance. They were honouring past agreements but showed no inclination of reaching new ones.
Kalimdor?
The Horde?
She should choke on the thought. And part of her still did, but stranger things had been contemplated in war. Would the horde protect them?
Maybe so, maybe not. She knew next to nothing about the orcs that had left across the sea to settle in Durotar, as they called their new nation. But an alliance with the Horde could very much antagonize the unfriendly yet still neutral eastern kingdoms and spark them into more than isolating the Forsaken. Besides, she detested the orcs for what they had done to Quel’thalas in the Second War. They had taken half her family and indirectly cost her her sister Alleria who went after them beyond the dark portal.
The night elves, the Kaldorei, remained but by all accounts (sparse as they were) they were only tolerating the outsiders help to deal with the Burning Legion. They were just like…Quel’Thalas had been.
Sylvanas almost kicked at a random book lying on the floor. This was pointless!
Wait. There was a thought that had eluded her. She knew from her time in the Scourge that there had been orcs allying temporarily with the night elves, but also humans, dwarves and high elves that had fled the destruction of Lordaeron and Dalaran and Quel’Thalas, and some who had come anyway to follow the rest across the sea to Kalimdor. And they had presumably settled somewhere on that continent instead of returning to their ruined homelands.
There was a name she had seen that was connected to that gathering. From a couple of the reports scavenged from Grand Marshal Garithos she thought. The presumed leader of the exiles from the eastern kingdoms. Jaina Proudmoore.