Sylvanas dropped down on a chair in the captains cabin. If she had been alive she would have felt exhausted.
The crew had hung a hammock across the rather small space while Sylvanas and her rangers checked the mage for visible injuries. She seemed fine as far as they could tell, meaning concretely no broken bones and no bleeding wounds, and she breathed steadily. Sylvanas had carried her to bed (well, hammock) herself and put a blanket from the bed over her. She was about to rise and leave at that point but then thought better of it. They were on their way and she couldn’t help the captain in any meaningful way with riding out the storm. Besides, their captive was a mage after all and someone needed to watch her in case she woke up and decided to turn the ship to cinder.
And there was this storm to consider as well. For all Sylvanas knew some errant rocking of the ship might even knock her out of her hammock. The ship rode the waves well enough as far as Sylvanas could tell but you couldn’t be too careful with head wounds. The living were such frail creatures.
So Sylvanas sat next to her and the bucket that some thoughtful person – probably Areiel – had remembered to bring along with the hammock in case its occupant would feel sick. Thinking.
What a complete and utter failure this was.
A diplomatic mission twisted into a…a night-time raid? Like some band of damned pirates? All because of, what really? The cursed storm that had forced them to hurry everything along? The unbending hostility of the human soldiers? Her own impatience? Her own… Panic.
They could have done it differently. They could have sailed into the bay and le themselves be trapped there while enduring the storm, then landed in daylight. They could have located Theramore and then sailed up the coast to anchor and approach the town by land, scouting it out and making some kind of contact with their patrols or travellers or whatever. But she had been too fearful to trust Theramore Bay beneath the Alliance eyes and too impatient to find secure anchorage along the coast, which would likely have been no quick and easy task with the jagged rocks that seemed to be a defining feature of Kalimdor.
It all came down to Sylvanas herself. Her people trusted in her. And she had let them all down.
What a complete and utter failure she was.
Sylvanas thoughts were interrupted when the mage suddenly opened her eyes and sat straight up, gasping and letting out a scream, only to fall back down again. Sylvanas saw her face contort in pain, she must have a monstrous headache at the very least, and her eyelids were coming down by themselves again. She must be absolutely exhausted from shielding herself against a point blank Wail for so long, Sylvanas reckoned. That she had stayed alive at all was really no small feat.
But the mage did not seem to be getting much rest. She was tossing and turning from one side to the other, with her features hard and drawn tight. That wouldn’t do. Sylvanas hesitantly clamped down with her gauntleted hand on the mages arm with what she hoped wasn’t too hard a grip. She should have taken those clawed things off, really. But the mage did not struggle against her grip. On the contrary, she seemed if anything steadied by it and after a while her fitful movements had stopped and she was sleeping soundly.
Sylvanas awkwardly begun rocking her hammock a little. She felt a bit better somehow when looking at the sleeping mage.
The night went by, with only the sound of the raging wind outside and the creaking of the ship to be heard. Or, no, not really. She could hear the mage breathe after all, and if she concentrated she could hear her heartbeat. How long had it been since Sylvanas had heard such peaceful sounds? How long since she had just sat down and listened to nothing in particular? Since before she died, most likely. Not that she needed it in any way. But it was…not unpleasant.
The sky had started to turn towards the faintest of grey when the mage made a pained, whimpering sound. Sylvanas looked up and saw her face tense and her eyes moving underneath the eyelids. Her jaw was clenched hard and she moaned in a way that grew ever more frightened with each sound.
Sylvanas rose and leaned closer over the mage. Was she mumbling something?
”No…don’t do it…don’t hurt them!”
Sylvanas hesitated. It wasn’t her concern really if the mage had nightmares. Not as if she actually really cared or anything.
”…can not watch you… …do th… …thas…”
The mage seemed more and more agitated. Could human spellcasters accidentally start casting in their sleep? That would be a mess.
”Sleep.” Sylvanas whispered softly and took hold of her arm again, as gently as she could and careful not to poke her with the claws, because of course she had forgotten to take them off. Had the mage turned slightly towards her? ”Sleep.” she whispered again. The mage seemed to sink back a little into her pillow, her jaw not so terribly set and her shoulders not so stiff. She drew a ragged breath and sounded more sad than scared now, sobbing lightly and grasping the blanket in a pitiful way.
Sylvanas turned her chair around and sat down again so she was looking right at the mage, who was calming down. Sylvanas felt a small, stupid little hint of satisfaction at that. Her own thoughts were a little calmer too, she noticed. Quieter. She leaned back in her chair and kept rocking the hammock without really thinking about it.
She wondered who that mage was. She had dark blonde hair, actually looking quite golden now that the light was slowly returning, and an elegant jaw like most of the elves. But she was distinctly human too, her chin and cheeks and nose tip a little rounder and softer than an elfs and of course those tiny round mouse ears the humans had to make do with. Sometimes it surprised Sylvanas how they could even hear themselves talking. Perhaps that explained why some of them were so extraordinarily loud. She almost reached out to stroke that intriguing little ear until she came to her senses.
How old could the girl be? The rounded, soft features of her face resembled those of an elven child and the impression was likely added to by how she was sleeping peacefully nestled in her hammock, but she was far too tall for that. She seemed to be only slightly shorter than Sylvanas, which would put her on par with almost any elf.
Alleria had made up a rhyme about human ageing one time when she was teasing Turalyon, with every sentence beginning with a ”T”. How did it go, now again? Human ages were measured in Tens. Tiny until Ten. Then Teenagers. Then Twenties. Then Thirties. Then…Tired?
Sylvanas almost found herself smiling at the memory of her irreverent and wild sister, never too old to arrive at a fancy dinner with straws in her hair and mud on her boots, gracelessly crashing into her chair like a sack of beets no matter how stony the gaze from her mother or how deep the frown from her father. Curious. It certainly wasn’t often she could think of Alleria without pain.
The mage in any case would probably be a Teenager or in her early Twenties Sylvanas thought. Just a couple of decades old. Seriously, all of them practically Toddlers in comparison…
Wait.
Wait one Sun-blessed bloody moment.
It couldn’t be, could it?
No, who was she kidding, of course it could be because why on Azeroth should it not?
Tentative, as if afraid to do do it and of the answer, Sylvanas whispered.
”What is your name?”
The mage stirred and moved her head a little, with her eyes still closed.
”J…Jaina…” she mumbled sleepily.
Sylvanas recoiled, and stepped back towards the door as if the mage had turned into a venomous reptile.
For once in her unlife she needed air.
***
Dawn was almost breaking outside. The sea was still in turmoil but the storm was passing now and the sky was grey rather than black. The ship tore defiantly through the waves, a couple of reefed sails providing the bare minimum of speed and manoeuvrability.
Areiel met her with a concerned look but also a mischievous glint in her eyes.
”Is the little sweetheart asleep?” she whispered.
Sylvanas glared the darkest glare she could muster. They were in the middle of a political disaster, it was not the time for frivolities.
”The kid certainly looked like she needed a nap.” her insufferable ranger captain continued unperturbed. ”Is that why we’re kid-napping her?”
Areiel was biting her lip of all things. This was not funny!
”I expect you to have been briefed by Anya about the encounter at the docks.” Sylvanas replied icily in her strictest commander voice.
It glanced off Areiel like a wooden club on plate armour. Indeed, having been Sylvanas’ old commander and mentor centuries upon centuries ago seemed to make people immune to all her tricks.
”And woman, Areiel. She is an adult and an Alliance mage. Gather the rangers and captain Bonecarver. I have an announcement to make.”
”No problem, they’re all on deck. We’ve searched the ship for every bucket and barrel capable of holding a drop of water the last couple of hours.”
”What for?”
”The rainwater. We don’t have any drinking water onboard so I reckoned it would be high time to gather some now that we’re taking on living passengers. We will still need to go ashore soon to provision, we can hardly count on fishing for the whole journey.”
That was…outstandingly practical thinking. Sylvanas decided that she could let Areiel off for this time. Suddenly it struck her how Areiel had assumed that they would bring the mage, no, Jaina Proudmoore, with them back to the Undercity and not objected in the slightest.
The other dark rangers and Bonecarver were quick to round up. Sylvanas strode in front of them and assumed a strict stance with her hands clasped behind her back and towering over the small assembly as much as possible.
”Rangers, captain, after the engagement last night our mission to Theramore must as of now be considered a failure. We have been met with hostility from the city's forces without being given a chance to plea our cause. From now on we must consider Theramore as hostile to our cause. I wish to underline that any responsibility for this setback rests solely on me. Rangers, you did everything you were supposed to. Captain, convey my compliments to your crew. They have performed under exceptionally harsh conditions this night.” she concluded with a brisk nod that made Bonecarver stand a little taller.
”This leads us to the question of the mage now in our custody. She is Jaina Proudmoore, the ruler of Theramore. She is also an archmage of considerable skill according to our admittedly insufficient sources, but in light of the extraordinarily powerful shielding she demonstrated this night I am inclined to regard that as a proven fact.”
”Dark Lady, we found this on the quay right before you ordered us back to the ship. I thought you’d want to know.” Clea held out a staff, ornate and topped with a blue crystal. Fairly elegant in fact.
An archmages staff.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
”It must be hers. Well done. Keep it hidden for now and do not speak of it unless I say so.”
Clea nodded.
”Why did we bring her with us?”
”What’s the plan now?”
”How are we going to guard an archmage?”
Sylvanas held up a hand, halting the stream of questions.
”With the Alliance evidently hostile, Lady Proudmoore will serve as our hostage which should prove useful. If we aren’t already accused of having attacked Theramore it is only a matter of time until we will be. No other faction possess similar ranger troops.”
And especially not under the command of such an easily recognizable commander, hung unspoken in the air.
”Not to mention that a Wail like that practically screams of banshees and banshee queens.” Areiel added with a smirk, leaning back casually with her arms crossed.
The rangers snickered while Sylvanas resisted the urge to throw something at Areiel.
”How do you wish to handle this, Dark Lady?” Areiel continued slightly more seriously. ”Mages tend to be ’dangerous if provoked’, as they say.”
Sylvanas shot a long glare at her. But the question had merit, and truth be told she wasn’t even completely sure herself. Her mind was still spinning with thoughts and questions.
”I am confident that our combined strength can easily overpower her should the need arise, but currently that is not an acceptable outcome as the damage to the ship would be catastrophic. I will handle the majority of guarding myself and you are to treat Lady Proudmoore firmly and not let her out of your sight when I am unavailable. I will review what we know about her and see if there is an angle that can be exploited to keep her off balance. For the time being our official standpoint towards her is that the Forsaken delegation was attacked unprovoked when approaching openly and without any declaration of hostile intent. That will be all for now.”
The rangers rose and saluted her, and went about their tasks again.
As Sylvanas was about to return to her cabin Anya approached her.
”You know it could be a very long journey home, Dark Lady.” she begun matter-of-factly. ”So you should have plenty of opportunity to speak with Lady Proudmoore.”
”So long as I can keep her from incinerating our ship, yes.” Sylvanas shrugged.
”So what if you could win her over to our side? Then Theramore would no longer be hostile if their ruler wasn’t. Perhaps you could try to be a bit nice to her too and not so, you know, dark and looming all the time? It’s just a suggestion.”
Sylvanas wondered whether Anya was actually serious as she stepped down the stair to check upon her…prisoner? Ward? Guest? What was Lady Proudmoore really to her? Sylvanas shrugged. Her mage, as much as anything else. Her mage to keep her eyes on. She had better not forget what that woman could do. And it felt more right inside her than any other term, somehow.
Her mage.
Sylvanas told herself that Anya must have been jesting to lighten her mood after all the trials during the night. She would just keep Proudmoore in check and preferably put her in her place so she wouldn’t bother Sylvanas’ rangers or her crew, nothing more.
***
Jaina woke up peacefully, opening her eyes in slight wonder about that very fact. There was light dancing across a wooden roof above her, coming from somewhere above her head, and the room she was in smelled of wood and a bit of tar and the homely, familiar damp air of a closed space. Jaina knew that smell very well. Was she on a ship? She surely was, and at sea no less. She could feel it rolling in the waves. And she was in a hammock? That must be why she had slept so soundly. Although there was something else.
There had been a…a dream? A dream of glowing red eyes and a strange voice. A deep, alluring voice that echoed and made her go back to sleep and calm down. A voice that not even Jainas nightmares dared say no to it would seem. She strained to recall more of how it had sounded and nearly cried out.
Aouch!
No. No, no, no. Absolutely no thinking or remembering for the time being. Tides, her head hurt! What had happened to her? She wasn’t sure she could even feel her arms and legs, even. Jaina wondered how long she had been knocked out like this. She hadn’t…embarrassed herself, had she? No, it didn’t seem like that. Her clothes and bedclothes were just a bit damp, because…because she had been outside and… No. No thinking. Hurt.
Jaina was getting angry at herself. For all she knew she could be captured by enemies of some kind who intended to kill or torture her and she worried about the state of her bedclothes? Although people who abused their prisoners rarely put them in hammocks with blankets first as far as Jaina knew. And damn that line of thinking anyway because now she had to get up.
The world spun and every blurry piece of furniture suddenly had twin brothers and Jaina pushed back the urge to vomit. She stood swaying and grasping the hammock for support as Azeroth slowly realigned itself around her. Uuuh… It was worse than the day after the celebration party when she had been accepted as Antonidas’ apprentice, toasting the fruits of weeks of badgering and stalking and pestering her new mentor from dawn to dusk. Jaina blinked owlishly and looked around. She was in some sort of officers cabin likely, with windows that let in the morning sun and a cluttered desk, a bed built into the wall, a few cupboards and her hammock. Her foot touched a dented bucket that someone had left next to it. Well, that very considerate person would probably be considerate enough to not mind if Jaina borrowed it for a while, especially since she currently didn’t trust herself to take more than five steps anywhere on this ship.
It was all Jaina could muster to put the bucket back in a corner and crawl back into her hammock. Had she said – thought - her hammock? It wasn’t like she was moving in here, was it? Her head was splitting in two, it was like one of those migraines that weeks of overworking brought on her. Maybe she had gotten drunk last evening and abdicated or something... Oh, this was intolerable, she had to reorder her thoughts. Jaina tried to breathe heavily through the headache and mentally list what she knew.
She remembered working late. Well, when was she not working late?
She had gone to bed, when it was pitch dark outside. There had been a storm outside.
She had not fallen asleep because she had been disturbed by sounds from outside and a strange feeling in the air, one of strange magic?
Jainas tower was overlooking almost everything in Theramore and she had seen some sort of commotion by the new docks, in the middle of the night. She had wrapped a robe around her and teleported there.
The events of last night came back to her in vivid clarity. Arriving in the middle of an argument. Weapons raised. Dark, lithe shapes on one side, Theramorian city guards on the other. And then that horrible, horrible scream. Her head almost hurt from the memory of it. She had thrown up a shield and without thinking teleported her guards away from it. She had stood her ground – why had she done that? – until she passed out. Her night was filled with troubling dreams she could barely recall, but also that voice and those red eyes.
Jaina looked up at the cracks and flaking paint of the ceiling while she tried to think. Who were the dark shapes? What kind of creature could scream like that? She went over all the monstrous, peculiar, fascinating beings of Azeroth that she knew about – the last year had certainly been educational if nothing else – but it was like her thoughts had been glued together.
But then the cabin door was quietly opened and the answer to her question stepped inside.
It was an elf woman, that much was quite clear by the ears sticking out of her hood and the, well, buckles of her armour. Jaina tried not to stare, but then what else in the room was she supposed to look at? And the elf was captivating. She had light blue-grey skin to start with, and was dressed in what looked like an elven rangers attire except that instead of the blue or green tones she had seen amongst those that had journeyed to Kalimdor with her, it was dark red bordering on purple, with grim silvery ornaments where graceful patterns mixed with skulls. And her eyes… They were those eyes. They were red, and they actually shone, just like in the dream that Jaina was beginning to wonder about how much of it that had really been a dream.
The elf somehow managed to make the couple of steps to Jainas side seem like a demonstration of balance and grace. Unfair elves… She leaned forward slightly and seemed somehow even taller than she already was – definitely one of the tallest elven women Jaina had met – and somehow the room felt a shade darker.
”Good morning, Lady Proudmoore.”
The simple and altogether reasonable words momentarily made Jainas brain cease to function completely. First and foremost, the voice…was that voice, and it sent a shiver down Jainas spine and made her long to hear more delicious words that dripped like melted chocolate into her ears and…wait! One of those delicious words had been ’Proudmoore’. She knew Jainas name. How did she know Jainas name? Had they met, and she didn’t remember? And why couldn’t the room stop spinning like that?
”W…What are…” Jaina tried.
”I said; ’Good morning, Lady Proudmoore’.” the elf repeated herself slowly as if questioning whether Jainas ears were functioning as they should.
”Oh, that… I mean, good morning too! To you.” Jaina blurted out. Tides, she was already making a mess out of this. ”I must apologize deeply if this comes across as very rude, but you obviously know my name and I am not sure if I should know yours.”
The red eyes regarded Jaina for a moment, and she couldn’t turn her gaze away from them. They were mesmerising, like ruby red fires waiting deep inside to flare up and consume her.
”No. We have not met previously but I can understand your confusion. The nights incidents must have been…disorienting.” the elf continued in an even tone. ”My name is Sylvanas Windrunner. I am the queen of Lordaeron and of the Forsaken, the free undead no longer under the Lich Kings control.”
Jaina could only stare. Queen of Lordaeron? Queen of a nation of free undead?
”I’m sorry to say I’m not really in any shape to bow, or curtsy, or however you do it in Lordaeron these days, your majesty.” Jaina said with an apologetic smile. ”I am, well, not quite well.”
”Of course.” the queen nodded. ”And in the interest of formal courtesy you my address me as Lady Windrunner as one head of state to another.
”Well, Lady Windrunner, how did I end up here? I remember arriving at the docks in Theramore just in time to stop everyone from losing their heads and attacking each other, but then there was a terrible scream that really went through my bones.”
The Lady Windrunner regarded Jaina silently for a second. Jaina felt like the red gaze bored into her mind and went through every thought that she had been thinking since yesterday afternoon.
”I am a banshee and possess several ways to incapacitate an adversary. What I hit you with was a banshees Wail, after your guards had proven Theramore's hostile intentions.”
A banshee! Jainas brain ran through all her mentally catalogued knowledge of banshees, which was not too much but still creatures that the Scourge had employed during the fighting in Ashenvale. She was so intrigued by the revelation that she almost missed the other bit of crucial information.
”Wait, what?! Theramore's hostile…we’ve no hostile intentions to you!”
”The actions of your city guard speaks otherwise, Lady Proudmoore.”
”But what happened? What did they do?”
”I arrived by boat with my escort, disembarking openly with the intention to seek out the city's rulership to negotiate safe passage for my ship into Theramore Bay and the opening of negotiations between our respective factions. I was met by a guard patrol whose commanding officer insulted me and demanded that I would surrender myself and my bodyguards. You arrived about the next moment. As you are aware of I unleashed a Wail and you were wise to teleport your guards away. I must commend your quick action in that regard. I assume you lost consciousness after maintaining your shield for so long and I had you brought to my ship.”
Jaina felt her face redden slightly. It was absolutely silly, but she had a profound weakness for being praised and hearing someone so impressive as Lady Windrunner recognizing her quick thinking and the strength of her spells made the blood rush to her cheeks. And there was that voice as well. It had a peculiar otherworldly echoing quality to it, sometimes almost imperceptible and sometimes very clear.
”As for now, you are in my custody onboard my ship. So long as you do not attempt to escape or attack me or anyone else under my command you will not be harmed. You may go where I allow it onboard the ship and you will have food and water brought to you.”
”Hm, well, regarding that…you probably already know that I am a mage…” Jaina began. Then she wanted to slap herself. Of course she new she was a mage, she had just commented on her teleporting people away, for Tides’ sake!
Lady Windrunner nodded.
”We are aware of that, and you will be under constant watch. Any attempt to cast a spell without prior permission would be…inadvisable. You would also be wise to keep in mind that the dead do not require sleep.”
”For now it’s not like I could conjure so much as a snowball for my head, and I don’t think I’d make it through the door without falling, but I can let you know when I’m feeling better and more dangerous.” Jaina promised, a tiny bit cheeky. It was maybe – probably – not very wise to provoke the queen of Lordaeron but she didn’t want to appear too intimidated either, and a very unwise part of her wondered what would happen if she actually did that and if those eyes could in fact burn even hotter than they already seemed to do. In that moment, Jainas stomach made a very undignified growl to remind her that she had in fact not eaten since yesterday evening and that the concept of breakfast had more to its merit than just satisfying the whims of stubborn night elf bodyguards.
Lady Windrunner raised an eyebrow, which was enough to make Jaina want to disappear under her pillow.
”I will have food and water brought to your cabin as soon as it is available. My crew has gathered limited quantities of drinking water during the night but otherwise we did not expect to be carrying living passengers.”
”As soon as I’m able to cast again I could conjure some mana-bread or something like that, but some water would be very nice, thank you.” Jaina said gratefully and noted that her throat was in fact starting to feel very dry.
Lady Windrunner nodded.
”Is the hammock to your liking?”
”Yes, it’s actually been quite comfortable.” Jaina nodded.
”Then you may continue to make use of it as well as this cabin.”
”May I ask, where am I? On the ship, I mean?”
”This is the captains cabin, which now serves as my quarters for as long as I am onboard. You may continue to use it at your leisure as I do not sleep and require little light to work. Do not mistake my occupying myself with other tasks for dropping my guard.”
Jaina fell back into her hammock, too tired and too thirsty to ask any more questions for the moment. Her mind was spilling over with questions – they thought Theramore was an enemy, what a Tides-damned utter mess – and things she wanted to know more about as well as clarify. But that would have to wait. She had to get her head back under control first.
Perhaps she was too exhausted to worry as much as she probably should, but for some reason Jaina did not feel nearly so ill at ease as when she’d woken up. She did not doubt that her captor meant what she’d said, and on the one hand she was freaking scary. But on the other…Jaina could not help but long to hear more of that voice and as much as the queen of Lordaeron frightened her – which she did – Jaina also felt intrigued by her. As far as being captured and technically in enemy hands went it could certainly be considerably worse and the thought of Lady Windrunner watching over her and lending her room made Jaina feel inexplicably warmer for some reason.
Although, it didn’t actually fit to think of the elf as Lady WIndrunner, or as the Queen of Lordaeron either. Those were titles she bore but not who she were. Titles were for stiff, formal people doing stiff, formal things and the graceful and doubtlessly quite deadly Sylvanas Windrunner was anything but that, even though the way she spoke Common was a little old-fashioned at times.
Sylvanas. That name was what she were, Jaina was sure of it. Sylvanas with the burning eyes and the voice that made her shiver.