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Both Sides Now	By : Firefall_Varuna Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 4996 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, races, characters, settings, or themes presented within. I do not make money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
- 18
Chapter 17 – Balance

Dawn came crisp and clear the third day of the march. The pastel predawn light crept over a horizon still studded with stars and streaked with aurora. The ribbons of light shimmered and reformed, tracing the sky in an endless dance. The lingering cries of owls and the other velvet, nocturnal creatures lamented the passing of night even as the creatures of the day called their good mornings.
Una paused to watch the sky, her flint and steel momentarily forgotten as dawn continued to unfold. The brown haired paladin had risen early – it was her turn to cook; but she was glad for it. She would have missed this spectacle if she had slept in.
A narrow band clouds gleamed on the horizon as if they'd been spun from gold. Even as she watched, their hue became even more vivid as the first gleaming rays broke the horizon. Glittering frost speckled the tents and across the gleaming metal of the siege tanks like diamond dust.
She turned her attention back to the little cone of branches she'd made within the fire ring. Time for another attempt.
Her breath coming in quickly stolen clouds, Una struck her flint and steel again. The constantly howling wind was bad enough when she wasn't working with fingers that had already grown numb from the chill. Just when she thought she had a spark, the wind would blow it out.
The paladin struck her flint and steel once more and then again, sheltering the little nest of dry needles and grass from the wind with her body. Finally, a wispy plume of smoke rose from the tinder. Relieved, she hurriedly added more dry pine needles as the flames finally started to spread. Another minute or so and she could move.
Across from her, Rune patted his freshly shaven face dry and examined himself in a hand mirror. Seemingly pleased with his face, he began to fuss with his hair. Even in the chill, she could smell the perfumed lotion he worked through his reddish-blond hair. He was always impeccably groomed, even exposed to the elements as they were. Braids were the best she could accomplish and she was content with that. The fact that he put so much effort into his appearance on the trail was to some extent disheartening.
"Do not let Lieutenant Orlinde see you do that." Rune remarked as he put the finishing touches on his hair.
Una would have rolled her eyes if they hadn't suddenly been filled with smoke. Waving the smoke away from her face as she stifled a cough, the paladin could only hope he meant that Ash would be shocked to see her lighting a fire and not something sexist. "I'll have you know I boil toast just fine, thank you."
Above the wisps of smoke, the healer actually looked somewhat horrified.
This time Una did roll her eyes, "Relax. We're having scrambled eggs."
The Blood Elf coughed and looked away uncomfortably.
"You didn't really think I was serious?" It was a silly question, but she had to ask. She wasn't a talented cook, but she wasn't terrible either. However, she could never quite tell where some of the oddest comments originated with Ash and Rune.
"… Let us just… perhaps you could say… Ash couldn't cook before he met your grandfather." Rune blurted hurriedly and not without a nervous titter.
"Oh." Una shuddered as it sunk in. Ash had spoken little of his early life, though what he had told her suggested he had been extremely awkward. Anaru's tales made it sound as though Ash had been extremely sheltered before meeting her grandfather, but no mention of awkwardness. Rune's made it sound as though Ash used to leap from inspiration to deed with little thought in-between. The truth probably laid somewhere among the differing tales.
"So did you sleep well last night?" Rune asked with sudden cheerfulness as Una rose to her feet and dusted herself off.
"You're funny." Una commented, the fact he'd suddenly changed the subject not lost on her. They hadn't heard the cries of Worgen for a few days now, but the wind still howled and battered the tents continuously throughout the night. There were moments where she couldn't tell if she'd heard something howl or if she'd just heard the wind. "As well as I could in a tent in high wind."
The healer nodded.
The Sin'dorei took a seat to begin cracking eggs into their cook pot. The awkwardness of their conversation forgotten; he looked rather serene.
The blazing, golden face of the sun had crested the horizon, brilliant in all its glory. It was magnificent.
Rune paused and turned partially in place to watch the sunrise.
A tranquil stillness, so perfect and magical, held court with the crackling fire for a long moment before the wind howled once more. Una settled beside the blond, peeling and adding potatoes to the pot.
After a long moment, Rune spoke almost reverently, "There will come a time where it shall not set…"
Una nodded as she worked her knife through a fat, crisp potato. She was aware and was grateful for it. For an all-too-brief season, there would be no night, merely a brief twilight to mark the passing of the day.
The constant daylight would make resting difficult, but she knew they would adapt. They would learn to sleep in the saddle; and, find adequate rest in whatever moments they could spare.
The camp was starting to rouse and the troops started going about their morning rituals.
Hakander emerged from his tent, pausing to gaze at the sunrise. There wasn't even a shred of emotion upon his strong, noble face. Nothing at all to indicate he was even seeing the same incredible sunrise she was.
The Draenei's unusually playful mood he'd shown the day of landfall had vanished entirely and his mood had darkened with each day of the march. While typically stern and known for becoming irritable at times this wasn't like him. The Vindicator had never been this cold, detached, and silent. When he did speak he sounded irritated.
Anaru, as well, had gained a troubling intensity. He always tended to brood and over-think things, but this anger was unlike anything she had seen in him before. During her tenure with the Argent Dawn, she relied on her cousin to explain what was happening and give her a quick briefing. Now he seemed aggravated if she asked him anything.
Last night, Una had asked him for clarification on a simple question: Would she remain with the platoon or be stationed in a central location for Zul'drak? He had all but given her a dressing down for asking.
Frankly, it frightened her. It was bad enough she had her doubts and insecurities, but her superior officers too? Maybe they were frightened, but were choosing to cover it with anger. On the other hand, maybe they were angry because they were frightened.
Cheese, eggs, potatoes, and bacon went into the pot and emerged soon after as a hearty trail breakfast. Una waited for a comment Anaru. A gentle word, at the very least. He used to love her scrambled eggs; but, he ate rapidly in silence before returning to his charts and notebook.
"My thanks, Private." Ashal said unexpectedly as he passed, startling her.
"You're welcome, Sir." Una replied quietly. Orlinde hadn't spoken much since landfall. In fact, he had returned to his stiff but polite demeanor.
Ash nodded and touched his forehead with his fingers in salute. Una quickly copied the gesture. And with that, the elder paladin ventured off to pack his belongings.
Una grimaced and cupped her face with her palm. Of course, it would only occur to her after he walked away that she should probably have thanked him! It was probably the closest thing she was going to get to a compliment.
As she scrubbed the pot clean, barked orders rippled through the camp. Time to break camp and continue on their way.
Una packed up her belongings, watching her cousin intently. Watched as he packed up his things and loaded them back on Jet. Watched as he made his way to the neighboring camp to speak with their officers.
With a sigh of frustration, Una began to load her things on Vesper. Whatever was bothering Anaru, she wasn't going to figure it out by staring at him or by willing him to come talk to her.
"Donovan! Your mother isn't here! Move your ass!" Ashal's voice thundered. Light, he could sound like Talaerion when he wanted!
Cole scrambled to comply. Una had to swallow the giggle and locked eyes with Cornelia. The human woman shook her head almost imperceptibly, grinning ear to ear.
It was moments like this that made her thankful for Hiram. She had craved his approval on their adventures, even as he found cause to loiter in any town with decent swill. Light help her if it happened to be a dwarven town. However, when he announced departure he had always meant now. She'd learned to disassemble camp in a hurry. The real lesson had come trying to put it back together if she hadn't taken everything down properly. There had to be some cosmic law saying it had to pour to reinforce the lesson too.
Cole Donovan, for all his apparent training as a hunter, didn't have a clue what he was doing. Poles were jammed into their bag going different ways, the canvas stuffed into the sack rather the folded, and who knows what other shortcuts he was taking. He'd have a long night trying to figure out where everything went in the dark.
Pausing to stroke Vesper's warm, velvety nose and whisper affectionate greetings to the animal, Una cast her gaze back at Anaru. He was speaking with Crusader MacKellar now, though she couldn't hear them through the racket as the steam-powered siege tanks came to life.
As those ahead of them started to move out, Anaru jogged back, his face unreadable.
The forest thinned, the fir trees slowly replaced by smaller species of evergreen and sedge. Soon the trees gave way altogether to vast and lush fields of cold-hardy wheat and barley that undulated in the wind like ocean waves.
Quaint, picturesque farming villages and rugged Alliance trading outposts made every bend in the road something to look forward to. Supplies were easy to come by and game was plentiful. They would continue to eat well for the foreseeable future – at least until they reached the interior.
They passed grassy plateaus gilt with vivid yellow clover and dotted with constellations of wildflowers. Ahead, to the north, the elevation climbed steadily. Beyond that, the forests grew thick and tall and the roads climbed rolling hills. The trees grew in both height and girth until there was no doubt in anyone's mind they gazed upon redwoods.
Where redwoods fell across the road, passages had been cut through their massive trucks wide enough to admit an entire tank with ease.
Bears were sighted at every turn, many with cubs, fishing for salmon from bitterly cold mountain rivers or resting from their feast. Majestic imperial eagles roosted high in the emerald boughs, sometimes boldly stealing from the bears.
It was cold and crisp, rugged and beautiful. Despite the chill, everything was so green. Flowers of every hue and color flourished despite the chill. Occasional clearings were covered with carpets and mounded drifts of vibrantly purple flowers.
Una raptly gazed around her in wonder, soaking it all in. A ranger she might not be, but this was exactly the type of wilderness she yearned to lose herself in. Someday, when this was all over, she would perhaps return with her cousins and explore the wilderness.
Kaleril's eyes had lit up when she'd suggested writing Tallak or Dagan to ask for apprenticeship. Perhaps, if everyone survived, she could bring her little cousin and the orc hunters north. See this forest through their eyes and learn as Kaleril learned.
Sadly, Una knew their time in the Grizzly Hills was short-lived. The briefings had said they had picked the most direct route through the forest. They had a king to kill; after all, and time was of the essence. She wished to spend weeks in this forest, but she had only hours.
The terrain leveled out unexpectedly as the road cut through what at first seemed to be natural terraces zigzagging up the hills. The rocks were covered in a beautiful assortment of lichen, some with tiny pink flowers. Then Una caught a glimpse of a lichen-covered rock shaped suspiciously like the head of a wind serpent.
They had passed into the troll lands.
There actually wasn't a need to go through Zul'drak. Una had seen the maps for herself, traced routes that took them around the troll lands. Sane travelers did that very thing. However, Scouts already reported that the Scourge had a presence in the lower levels of the valley. They couldn't have an entire troll empire, declining or not, added to the Scourge's arsenal.
In a perfect world, a sane world, the trolls would recognize they were at last receiving reinforcements. However, this wasn't a sane world. Scourge and trolls sounded suspiciously like a rock and a hard place.
A massive, stone staircase soon dominated the road ahead of them. Even from a distance, it was unmistakably troll.
They walked the roof of the world and beheld cultures so vastly different from the whole of Azeroth, but certain elements of the troll empires remained the same. The same style of complex carvings and geometric shapes decorated the stones. Una knew there were even more intricate levels of detail than she could see. Each step closer would unveil a different level of detail. Stylized animals in equally geometric form took center stage of the reliefs. The animals were different, the symbols, but much remained the same.
No, it was the vastness that was staggering. She had walked the Amani Range during her rehabilitation and seen fortified city of Zul'Aman from afar. The primitive city had sprawled for miles, reaching deep into the mountains. That paled in comparison. There was no doubt in her mind they faced an empire.
High above, the sky was darkening. It was growing ever colder. Wisps of dark clouds streaked the crisp blue sky with inky darkness. Dark storm clouds boiled above the troll empire of Zul'Drak, seemingly contained by the boundaries of the stone wall.
"This is it," she could hear Anaru say to Hakander. "No more smooth sailing."
Vesper seemed to agree. Beneath her, the stallion had a case of nerves. His tail swished constantly and his ears had pricked sharply forward.
"Breathe." Una whispered to the horse, rubbing and patting him on the neck. It was more for her own sake, but it felt good saying it.
Crude troll structures started appearing among the trees. At first nothing but modest, wooden huts with pine-thatched roofs. Larger, multi-level wooden buildings followed – possibly dwellings of chieftains or important figures. Finally, the wooden huts gave way to stone buildings with intricate decorations.
However, it was quiet. An odd, deathly quiet.
Una wasn't sure when it happened, but blue-skinned trolls appeared beside the road. These weren't the proud trolls she was expecting. These were wretched, some pallid, all clothed in rags even by troll standards. Some trolls were clearly elders, though now their once exotic regalia hung ruined upon their bodies. Many were injured, others clearly ill.
Then there was the smell.
It was fact: trolls stank. Their sweat was legendary for its foulness and their breath was a running gag even among the trolls themselves. Even Faraji, as cleanly as the priest was, had a certain malodor that seemed inescapable.
No, the overwhelming stench was foul even for trolls. The smell of sickness was clear, but there was something even more foul. The High Elf couldn't quite identify the cause or origin of the odor, but it permeated this section of forest.
Desperate troll hands started to reach out, heavily accented troll voices pleading for help. The trolls – these Drakkari – weren't happy about it, either. Most appeared reticent about approaching, much less speaking to the outsiders marching through their home. They would have to be very desperate indeed to approach the army.
"Commoners." Dutton commented half under his breath.
"Aye," agreed Bergi. "And refugees."
"Help us!" A female voice spoke to her left, hesitant but still distraught. A hideous, blue haired Drakkari female had stepped forward, a pallid baby swaddled in ragged cloth perched upon her hip. Una's pulse quickened the compulsion to ask what she could do poised upon her lips.
"Steady, lass." Bergi urged.
"There's no warriors!" Una retorted without thinking. The lack of able-bodied males was very noticeable.
The battle-cleric didn't even look at her. He was focusing on the space between his horse's ears. "Doesn't mean there aren't any."
He was right, of course. But it didn't mean she had to like it.
The young woman glanced behind her as the troll mother pleaded to other soldiers. Her heart ached as the female gently pulled her necklace of bone and knotted cord from her child's grasp. Una had seen very similar scenes played out many times in Stormwind…
Ahead, another army had passed through recently. A standard marked their passage. Shaped like a dark sword, the banner was emblazoned with vivid blue sigils. No trolls dared stand close to those ominous standards.
Her heart froze. Visceral fear rushed through her like an electric shock, stealing breath from her lungs. "Oh… shit!" Una hissed.
The Ebon Blade forces weren't far ahead of them. Death Knights.
Una cursed again, suddenly anxious. A sense of dread settled upon her, worse than any she had felt thus far. Death Knights seemed to have a tenuous grip on the concepts of restraint and compassion at best. She fretted, her mind playing out scenarios each worse than the next.
It wasn't long until they were upon them. The undead knights had paused in their march on the broad square before the stairs. Easily hundreds of Deathchargers stood in perfect formation, hooves burning with that horrible blue fire and ominous dark barding. Upon them sat their dark masters. Every race to fall to the Scourge were counted among their numbers. Some former enemies and others former allies, but all brothers and sisters in undeath.
"Draw that gun, Private, and we will have words." Hakander growled.
Una almost retorted that she didn't have a gun; she currently bore the hammer Ashal had given her. Her hands were nowhere near any of her weapons, for that matter. Her shield and mace hung upon Vesper's flank, and she had never successfully drawn the dagger housed in her boot while mounted.
"Breathe." Rune muttered beside her. From his tone, it was an order.
"Can I trust that you will maintain discipline among our dark brothers, Private Donovan?" Hakander asked sternly.
Donovan was acerbic as he replied, "Yes, Sir."
"Private Whitebrook?" Una startled as Hakander raised his voice to address her as well.
"Yes, Sir!" The High Elf said crisply in reply, careful to adjust her tone. Truth of the matter, she all but trembled with anger. With rage. With terror. With seething memories of helplessness. With the Draenei's assumption and insinuation that she was cut from the same cloth as that foul, little cockroach.
The Knights of the Ebon Blade seemed satisfied with the approach. There was no pause in the march as they ascended the giant stair. Two armies flowed and became one.
Motion to her right, beyond Bergi and the others. A champron made of dark metal and decorated with forward sweeping horns entered her peripheral vision. Una stiffened, looking off to the side with her eyes without moving her head. A horrible, blue glow came from where the horse's eye should be.
The young woman grit her teeth, willing herself to a calm she knew she couldn't achieve.
Vesper's time with the Blood Knights became manifest. He used to react violently when Deathchargers were near. Torn between the instinct to flee and his training to fight, he had been unpredictable around the unliving. Now the stallion didn't even twitch. Didn't even seem to notice the reanimated horse mere feet away.
The row ahead of her reached the stairs and then it was her turn. Vesper tossed his head and ground his teeth against the bit, but gave no further indication of his displeasure. Stairs such as these were not built for horses, not designed to accommodate their passage. Yet her beloved charger found his footing with ease.
If only the same could be said for his mistress. Una felt as though her heart were flinging itself against her ribcage like a terrified bird.
As they reached the top of the stairs, Una gazed dispassionately at the fields surrounding them. She had been hoping the Drakkari lands at least had the wild beauty of the Amani lands, but that wasn't to be. Sickly yellow sedge and trees with vicious thorns and foliage the color of dried blood greeted her eyes. Occasional spears of blue-green pine were the only similarities she could find.
Unnatural green storm clouds boiled above. Una felt her lip curl. She hadn't had to deal with hostile trolls as often as others did, but yet this just reeked of foul magic. This wasn't the benign voodoo magic Faraji handled. His pagan gods were the ones of the Zandalari and his chosen loa benevolent.
The command to halt echoed through the army and they came to a stop beneath the boughs of a massive tree.
"Thornwood." Rune commented loudly. "Burns pink and it's as sharp as it looks. You've been warned."
The Death Knights started to move once more, coming to congregate a few hundred yards away. Una took a deep breath to calm herself. With any luck, they were going to keep moving. Indeed, moments later large groups broke off and rode into the woods.
Another shouted command went up and the officers rode to a spot a short distance away. Una eyed her cousin even as she made room so Rune could make his way over as well. The officers dismounted and stood in a close semicircle.
"Well, now, ain't this just th' most lovely place ye ever laid eyes on." Una heard Ludger remark sarcastically.
"Pipe down, fireplug!" Cornelia said sharply, "I'm trying to listen."
Whatever she was trying to listen to, Una couldn't hear. She could hear their voices, occasionally a contextless syllable or word. It was probably a briefing with assignments and instructions for setting up their first base camp.
Josie abruptly squeaked in alarm and ducked in her saddle. Una jerked to look skyward, her hand darting to the grip of her hammer.
A swarm of bats wheeled overhead like a living cloud. They spun and dove, coming back around once more before vanishing into the trees overhead. Una frowned as she watched the spot where they'd gone for further movement. She would have thought it was too cold for bats, yet here they were.
"I don't think you're on the menu, Corporal Turner." Una called to the human softly.
Josie glared and so did Cornelia, though not without a smirk managing to sneak past first.
"Private Whitebrook!" Rune called sharply. The briefing seemed to be over. Ashal and Hakander were consulting a map before each began calling troops to them. McCall, Domhnall, and Ludger were already making their way over to one of the siege tanks.
Confused, Una made her way over to the healer.
"Yes, sir?"
"I will be accompanying Lieutenant Hakander on reconnaissance." Rune said in his usual cheerful way. "I'm placing the deployment of the field hospital in your capable hands."
Una stared at him blankly, not quite comprehending what the Sin'dorei had just said. It sounded as though he'd just delegated the setup of the field hospital to her. "Sir! I've… I never… I don't have the…"
Rune sighed and interrupted gently, "Then this shall be good experience for you. If necessary, ask any of our veterans for advice. Those assisting in the setup will report to you until my return."
Una's head swam, but she nodded her understanding.
"Yes, I'm giving you power – Ancestors help us." Rune chuckled as he mounted his charger. "Now, say "thank you" before I regain my sanity and send you on the reconnaissance instead."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Una stammered.
"Do be careful." Rune said pointedly, turning his horse around to face Hakander's group. "I have no desire to hear of how you injured yourself upon my return."
"You too!" Una replied quickly.
She gulped nervously as they rode off. What the devil just happened? Soldiers reporting to her?
There were a lot of soldiers waiting for her and even more provisions waiting to be moved by the moment. Blessed Ancestors, was this really happening?
Una swallowed again, her anxiety growing with each step. She dismounted and handed Vesper's reins to a jarringly young recruit. Each step to the troops felt like an eternity.
"Ah… All.. alright, let's get this started!" Una said, her voice failing her. She had to repeat herself twice before a gray haired soldier put his fingers to his lips and belted out an ear-piercing whistle. He pointed down at her with one gloved hand.
"Alright, let's get this started." Una repeated again nervously. "I want the field hospital in the field just east of the stairs and off the road."
It was a sheltered location, backed up against the massive wall to the south. On the east, ruins blocked approach from the thick forest beyond. The forest would block the worst wind. To her horror, she caught herself looking at the elder soldier for approval. The human winked at her.
Most of her instructions came out as meek, diffident half-questions, but soon enough it was blessedly over. She delegated more than she probably should have to various soldiers, though the veteran who whistled for her hadn't seemed to think it was an issue.
Una took a steadying breath and hefted two sizable bags intended for the officer and clerk. Each bag contained a collapsible desk containing all the paperwork each role would need to facilitate operations. Seeing as how she was in charge, it was probably up to her to make sure they reached their destination.
The bags were quite heavy, but no worse than the bags Ash and Rune had her carry in the mountains. She'd be happy to put them down, but at least she could prove she wasn't as weak as she sounded.
Each heavy step felt remarkably good. The exertion chased away her insecurities, the burn in her muscles searing away the doubts. She'd feel better once her real duties began, she just knew it.
She slipped a little on the snow as she took her next step. The snow was starting to get compacted and slippery. However, the pavers ahead were just dark and wet looking. Once she got there, it wouldn't be so bad. She took careful steps, edging her way closer to the bare roadway.
At last, she took a step onto those darkened pavers.
Her foot flew out from under her. Una suddenly found herself staring at the red-leaved branches of the Thornwood trees high above, slowly sliding to a stop. Even fully armored, her back was awash in pain and little grains of white sparkled in her vision. She lay where she fell, trying to catch her breath.
Her shoulders ached from the straps pulled taut around her arms. Her hammer dug ferociously into the leathers covering the inside of her elbow and forced her back into an uncomfortable arch.
"You!" A human male barked some distance away; an officer she assumed. "Since you seem to prefer the role of nursemaid – deal with the lady."
Una cringed. And there went the bubble. At least the human hadn't said anything about "jack-rabbit" ears or any of the other foolish and racist remarks she'd heard over the years. It was, however, a veiled insult on the perceived physical weakness of the elves.
Another male voice distantly acknowledged the speaker and heavy steps crunched in the snow.
Una tried to rise, but her hammer, the weight of her armor, and the black ice still partially beneath her made it too difficult. She was cold and now she was sore. The High Elf knew she'd feel worse in the morning. She'd be shocked if her entire back wasn't one, gigantic bruise by then.
"By the Light, I hate the snow!" Una exclaimed, more to herself than the person coming to help. She untangled her arms from the straps, her arms and shoulders aching as the weight on them eased.
The nearing footsteps paused and a male chuckle followed. The quiet laughter echoed unnaturally, as though it had to cross a vast distance to reach her ears though the one laughing was only feet away now.
Una froze, a hissed curse erupting from her lips. A human Death Knight crouched beside her, once again chuckling.
"Get away from me, you monster!" Una snarled, throwing all her weight into trying to roll away from him. Her hammer hung up on something beneath her and halted the movement.
"I won't hurt you." The undead human said, offering her a gauntleted hand.
Una stared at the offered hand a moment and slapped it away, trying once more to right herself.
"In full plate," the knight observed both gently and in amusement. "You're like a turtle on its back." He offered his hand once more.
It felt as though she was right back in the Plaguelands, fighting for her life against the endless tide of unliving. The soulless laughter as the orc female Death Knight taunted Garrick. The Death Knight at Winterveil. The screams of the revelers as they fought for their lives against the undead.
The Death Knight regarded her silently a moment before his voice assumed an impossible gentleness, "Come on." He wriggled his fingers to her in a beckoning gesture. "Let me help you up."
Oh, he'd help her, all right. The same way her Great Uncle had helped her to Anaru by seizing her by the hair and flinging her at him.
"We're on the same side." The Death Knight persisted, "I give you my word: I will not harm you."
Dubiously, Una accepted the hand. The Knight's grasp tightened and he pulled her to feet. As she started to slip once again, he brusquely pulled her into the snow.
"A bit of advice: From now on, you should wear your crampons." The Knight informed her, lifting a foot to show her wicked, downward facing spikes lashed to the bottom of his boot.
Una jerked her arm free and stepped rapidly away from him.
"I gave you my word I wouldn't harm you." Said the Death Knight, irritation entering his voice. "You're my ally."
"Yeah, right!" Una snapped, "Death Knights would kill their own family given the chance!"
The unliving human stiffened and replied softly, "Mind your tongue." He stressed each word as he spoke, leveling his baleful gaze upon her.
"Oh, what? Did your brother scream, "Please don't kill me!" as you ran him through?" Una sneered at the undead thing before her. A fool was what he was to believe she would actually take orders from him.
"I wasn't allowed to kill him." The monstrosity didn't move from his chosen patch of snow, but malice seemed to pour from the dark, armored figure, "You have no such protection, my lady."
"Come, then." Una pulled her hammer from its place on her back, "I tired of your kind a long time ago."
The Knight simply stood there, silently regarding her with an unreadable gaze. She couldn't see anything but those burning eyes. His stance was relaxed, but ready. He seemed to be hesitating, if anything.
"What? Are you afraid?" Una demanded, "I slew scores of Scourge when I was almost dead myself!"
The undead man finally seemed to tear himself from his silence, "An infant would have more bite than you. I find it highly unlikely one that cannot stand on her own feet would be any good in battle. No, I am not afraid of you."
Una startled at the unexpected remark. Did he just call her a liar and a weakling? Her hammer sang through the air.
The Death Knight stepped forward swiftly. He slapped her arm, sending the blow downwards. Her momentum carried her through. The leather-wrapped handle tore itself from her gloved hands. With a savage kick, he sent the hammer spinning across the ice.
Una struck out with her elbow, but the Knight ducked backwards. One cold gauntlet closed around her wrist, spinning her around. His other hand smacked her face soundly as she came back around.
Una recovered, coming back around with a punch. He deflected her blow.
Then his gauntlet snapped out like a viper. Hard fingers closed around her neck. Her gorget pressed firmly into her throat as he lifted upwards.
It was difficult to breathe, but not impossible. It enough to make her distinctly fearful. She couldn't yell for help. It would be all but impossible to cast anything, much less anything helpful.
Una pedaled her feet wildly in midair, trying in vain to kick him. She tried to find a grip on one of his fingers to break it, but those fingers might as well have been made of steel. The High Elf brought her fists together and slammed them into his arm. All to no avail.
"So devout, to wear the Symbol of the Holy Light." The Death Knight said darkly, mocking her as she struggled against his grasp, "You should have been a priestess after all."
"And what would you know…?" The High Elf grit out.
"I wasn't always one of the damned." The dead human growled pointedly. Then the gauntlet opened. Una yelped in surprise as she dropped to the ground.
Una sat there sucking in breaths. He was storming away, unholy rage emanating from his entire armored form. To her great shame, tears of rage were streaming down her cheeks.
Una shivered and dabbed her running nose with the back of her glove. It came away bloody. Not surprising, but still frustrating. Not only was she lying in the snow crying, she was doing it with a bloody nose too.
Snow and ice crunched as someone else approached. She knew that walk. Knew the purposefulness of the gait and the lightness in which the steps met the ground despite the weight of armor and gear. She shivered again, this time in relief.
Anaru held out his gloved hand. Una took a deep breath and accepted the assistance.
She dabbed her nose again, pivoting around to look for her hammer.
"You raised your weapon against an ally." Anaru stated without preamble.
Una spun back to face her cousin in shock. "No… No, sir!" She stammered, "He started…"
"No, I was watching." Anaru interrupted curtly with a wave of his hand. "You most certainly started it. Private, the Ebon Blade are our allies – we need their strength in this war!"
"No! He called me a liar and…" Una had to make him see, make him understand. He had been at her side during her recovery and again while they made their stand during Winterveil. He himself had nearly attacked the monster that Great Uncle Lorandil had become. Anaru, of all people, had to understand!
"Shut up!" Anaru barked and stepped forward, his own face scant inches from her own. "Private, I think we've been overly generous with you. This is unacceptable! Put on your big girl pants or go home!" He paused, gazing at her with a severe expression, his face still alarmingly close. He finally spoke, his voice suddenly and ominously hushed, "Are we clear?"
Una had never seen Anaru like this and didn't know how to respond. She had never seen him so angry. It took every ounce of self-control to hold back the shudder that wanted to run the length of her spine. Every fiber to keep fresh tears from flowing. Everything to utter a crisp, "Yes, sir."
Anaru stepped back and regarded her with a curious look upon his face. Una didn't know what to think of the expression so close to both bewilderment and anger. "I expect the field hospital assembled by nightfall. You will accept assistance from whoever is assigned."
"Yes, Sir."
"Dismissed." Anaru said sternly, nodding in the direction of the troops she had been assigned.
Una gathered up the bags and retrieved her hammer all the while fighting a losing war to keep her emotions in check. She nearly slipped once more, but was able to steady herself using her hammer.
"And for Light's sake, put on your damn crampons!" Anaru bellowed after her.
Hours passed and passed again, only the steady march of the sun across the heavens marking time. Neat rows of gray tents marked with gold stars bloomed upon the frozen soil like Spring flowers. There was an endless stream of troops funneling through with provisions and equipment. There were cots to be set up, stockrooms to be filled, and various medical units set up. Idling engines came and went as siege tanks filed into neat, even rows as a defensive perimeter.
It was all something she had never done before in her life. She didn't have Dutton, Bergi, or any of the other healers in her platoon to ask – they were all out on assignments. No healer or medic in the army currently wore anything identifying them as such for safety. How many soldiers would she have to ask before she found a fellow medic? She was terrified of letting Anaru down, but even more frightened of asking him for direction. He had never spoken that way to her before. Each hour that passed, the dread grew. Was she even doing this right? Or was she setting herself up to earn yet another dressing down?
The sun set and the moon rose. Una couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop working. If she ever had a need to excel at anything, it was here and now.
Hakander eventually came and relieved her of her duties for the day. No comfort would come from the Draenei, no validation. He was every bit as cold as the snows around her. Una felt too defeated to even try to find Rune.
She trudged back to camp, forcing herself to keep her head high. A part of her wanted to be ashamed; despite feeling she had nothing to be ashamed about. Death Knights, even supposedly redeemed, were still vile and their loyalties paper-thin. Rune assigned the hospital to an inexperienced medic – if they wanted perfection, they should have given the task to someone else.
The truth was simple: she was furious and exhausted. Plus, she had no idea where her things were.
Bitter fantasies played out in her head. Her things lashed to the top of a tree or left in a puddle. Perhaps covered in manure. Some of the guards had "initiated" many of the newcomers as such.
Crybaby. Just the barest thought brought the gibe back, fresh and painful as the day it was first uttered. Weak. The Death Knight's jab about her not being able to stand on her own was another old taunt. Back then, she couldn't retaliate even if she'd wanted to. Once again, she probably couldn't do anything about anything anyone said or did. If she couldn't convince her own cousin…
Una's eyes fell upon a familiar-looking tent as she stormed by, giving her a momentary pause. It looked like her tent. Indeed, neatly stitched letters spelled out "Whitebrook, Una" upon the flap. Una peeked inside. Yes, it was her tent. The familiar gray bedroll was already spread out; the plaid flannel blanket; her packs and spare weapons. Her lantern was lit and the small, magical stone was already warming the air within. Someone had set her tent up for her?
Ash was sitting in front of the tent next to hers, peeling an orange. The black haired elf picked away with his closely trimmed fingernails, only managing to take off small bits of peel at a time.
He nodded a greeting. Of all her platoon's officers, the typically angry, brooding elf actually looked the calmest. He seemed grounded suddenly.
"Did… Sir? Did you…?" Una stammered, flustered as her anger evaporated.
The Sin'dorei nodded without a word.
Still flustered, Una stammered her thanks and cast her gaze at the ground. After a moment, she asked quietly, "Where's the Captain?"
"Patrol." Ash replied. He didn't sound annoyed or bored for once. He merely answered. No sarcasm or hyperbole. Merely the answer.
Relieved, Una once again cast her gaze at the ground. She was terrified of what Anaru might say when he returned. However, for the moment that inevitable exchange was delayed. Anaru was off somewhere on horseback, brooding and alone with his thoughts.
"… Do not test them," The elder paladin advised quietly.
"With all due respect, sir," Una said quietly, "that could apply to several… in multiple arenas…"
"Indeed." Ashal said, seeming to at last give up on peeling the orange with his fingers. He drew his dagger from his boot and began to cut the orange into wedges. "But I think you know quite well who I'm referring to."
"Yes, sir." Una replied quietly. After a moment, she added with a trembling voice, "I'm so frustrated! Why?"
"Soldiers have different ways of preparing themselves for war and the eventual casualties. Some become quiet, others cope with anger, and others by avoiding attachment." The dark haired Sin'dorei gazed up at her, his eyes locked with her own. "Their anger is not at you, but at the events we shall soon face."
"Is that why you're being a hard ass?" The question tumbled from her lips unbidden. Una inwardly recoiled and cringed. Did she really just ask her superior officer that question?
To her immense relief, Ashal chuckled. "Hardly. I have stood at this threshold before." The Sin'dorei offered no further explanation. Instead, he nodded to her tent, "Rest while you can. Tomorrow will be brutal."
Una nodded gratefully, "Good night, sir."
A nasal sound of acknowledgement was the closest thing to a "good night" she got in return. It would do.
Her tent was a welcome respite after the day's events. She lay back upon her bedroll and breathed a sigh of relief. Blessed Ancestors, it felt wonderful. She was so sore!
The high elf started to strip out of her armor, wincing at all the places that hurt. Fighting hadn't even started and she hurt. Part of her wanted so desperately to cry and yet she felt too tired to actually cry.
Just when she thought she was getting stronger, a day like today reminded her of how soft she still was. How did that Death Knight know?
Una growled at herself. That Death Knight had probably just made a lucky guess. She was overthinking things again and dwelling on the past.
Una reached up, turned off her lamp, and rolled onto her stomach. Sleep found her quickly.
Exhausting dreams replayed the events of the day, rehashing everything from her humiliating encounter with the Death Knight to the assembly of the hospital. The dreams played out scenarios over and over like a broken gnomish contraption.
"We're under attack!"
The cry was electrifying. Una scrambled from her tent, her hammer held at the ready. Screams. Unearthly screams echoed in the darkness. Una spun, trying to locate the enemy.
The forest reeked. It smelled as though the villages had been cooking something foul. It smelled so sweet it was vile, adding to the stench that still permeated the forest. If not for that sickening sweetness, it might have smelled like some kind of confection.
"With me!" Ashal bellowed at her side. His teeth were bared, his sword held ready.
Trolls. She could see them now. Nightmarish in the bloody gleam of the fires. Nightmarish in tribal masks already flecked with blood. They surged the camp like a locust swarm.
He was leading her into the fray. Not far away, a proud daughter of Ironforge was fighting two trolls at once.
It was as though she was of two minds once again. There was no horror, merely calm. No hesitation, only purpose. It was as though another woman cried the words of the Blessing of Kings, encircling and strengthening the other paladin. Ash barely paused in his purposeful step, the wind muffling his words as he recited a blessing of his own.
A victorious shout. Metal flashed in the firelight. The dwarven woman crumpled. One of the trolls turned. The savage took up his spear and threw.
Ash skipped out of the way. The swiftly rushing spear struck empty pavers. The elder paladin stood his ground as the troll warriors charged in, axes held high. The warriors' style was strange and unpredictable. Ash brought his sword around, blocking the blow meant for his head. Light spun around him like shooting stars, forcing the other back.
Una saw the flash of a dagger. The troll wasn't even turning. It was aimed at her! She lashed the Drakkari with a holy shock. The throw went wide.
Night turned to day as a human paladin entered the fray. The larger of the pair didn't notice until it was too late. The newcomer's sword found purchase in the troll's side, the steel parting tribal armor and flesh. Bright steel sprouted through the Drakkari's chest.
It should have brought the troll to his doom. Blood flowed over beaded tribal armor to the icy pavers. Beady, bloodshot eyes fixated on the paladin as the troll ripped the sword free with a sickening noise. A horrible grin spread across the troll's face.
Despite the severity of his wounds, the troll was very much alive. Faraji had grimly told her some of the tricks of the witchdoctors. He'd mentioned drugs that allowed a desperate warrior to fight through mortal wounds. Una never dreamed she'd see it firsthand.
It was a fatal distraction. Ash raised his own massive sword, cleaving through the troll's neck. The head toppled from the body and rolled across the ground.
Even as the first troll fell, the other seemed to grow in size and strength. Ash and the other paladin circled and weaved.
The blows came ever quicker. More unpredictable.
One moment, he hammered Ash with thundering blows. The next, he lashed wildly at the other paladin. Una backpedaled quickly as the Drakkari focused on her, slashing wildly.
Tired of her, he spun. The axe flashed in the firelight, coming down in an overhead cleave. Ash lunged out of the way, rolling on his shoulders and back to his feet.
Una chanted spells, mending any wounds and periodically lashing the troll with a holy shock.
A low, stuttered moan. Casting her gaze to the side, the High Elf spotted the wounded soldier. The dwarven woman was curling into a fetal position. She was alive! Una circled, keeping a wary eye on her surroundings.
Una crouched beside the dwarf, pouring healing energy into the injured soldier. She didn't check to see what had been done; she couldn't see the wounds well anyway. Instead, she let the Light seek the source of the blood.
The troll was coming again. She couldn't leave!
The firelight was eclipsed by a massive form. A large, rectangular wall shield blocked her view of the troll. Hakander glanced back over his shoulder at her and nodded.
The Draenei roared taunts in his native tongue, challenging the troll. He charged, his hooves thundering against the pavers.
Reassured, Una bent back over the wounded soldier. She called upon the Light once again, letting it rise within her. She let it flow into the wounded soldier.
"Incoming!" Cornelia shouted from somewhere in the darkness.
As if in answer, more Drakkari battle-cries echoed in the night. Una glanced up, stricken, as more trolls surged into camp from the north. They were coming in from both sides!
A hand landed upon her shoulder. Una yelped, raising her hammer to defend herself.
Someone grabbed the shaft, stopping her swing before she could get momentum behind it. The other paladin stood before her, his white and gold armor splattered with blood.
Wreathed in holy fire, Ashal and the Hakander stood between the swiftly incoming Drakkari and her. At their side stood the other members of her platoon, each holding their weapons at the ready.
"You have a name, soldier?" Ash shouted back to the human paladin.
"Warrant Officer Landon Frost, Sir!" The paladin replied loudly as he dragged the wounded soldier backwards.
"Be ready!" Ash bellowed.
A thunderous explosion. Una dove, covering the wounded soldier with her body. Another. And another. The staccato retort of gunfire resounded like a barrage of firecrackers during the Lunar Festival.
The familiar whine and drone of steamtank engines came close. Una looked up. It was Domhnall's tank. The barrel adjusted with a steam-powered whine and then fired with a retort that shook her to her core.
Trembling, Una tentatively rose from her protective position. The siege tanks were unleashing an artillery barrage at the incoming Drakkari.
There were fewer now. Few, if any of the attacks were making it through the shelling alive. Those lucky enough to survive surged into the camp, their raptors' teeth and claws slashing at those caught in their way.
They were coming ever closer.
Something massive leapt into the camp. Una heard the tortured scream of claws raking across metal.
Cornelia bellowed, roaring like an angry she-dragon. Her massive swords held before her.
The Drakkari paused. The savage gave a roar of his own and charged.
Una jumped to her feet, chanting defensive spells as mounted warrior bore down on Cornelia. Light wreathed Cornelia in a shroud, a protective shield that shielded the human from the Drakkari.
Hakander roared. Holy fire blazed around him as he charged in himself.
Light sang upon the night air, as brilliant as the rising sun. Una couldn't see through the combined might of the paladin spells.
To her horror, she could vaguely sense undeath from the troll they fought. The Scourge were here! Not across the valley or down in the fields – here! Death-tinged, the warrior was fighting through mortal wounds and would soon slip into undeath.
There was no pause. The dying troll didn't seem to notice his wounds or the moment he seamlessly became unliving. Desperate, bent on the ruin of his foes, he kept swinging his weapon even as muscle and sinew was rent by spell and blade.
As quickly as it happened, the dead troll fell under the onslaught of Light and was finally still.
Una pressed her fingers to the dwarven woman's carotid artery. Her pulse was so weak, even after being healed. The Light had bought her time, but not much. The wounds were reopening. How was that even possible? After what she'd just seen, Una was scared. She called upon the Light again, willing it to mend the soldier's broken body.
The cries of the Drakkari warriors were subsiding. Order was rapidly returning. However, there still could be unseen trolls in the darkness. Argent Crusade and Ebon Blade soldiers swarmed the camp, methodically searching for hidden trolls.
"Ash!" Una exclaimed, "We're going to lose her if we don't get to the hospital!"
The Sin'dorei glanced back at her. For the span of a few heartbeats, indecision flickered across his face.
"Go!" Hakander thundered.
"Frost! Randall! You're with us!" Ash barked as dragged the unconscious dwarf over his shoulder, "Mountainhand! Cover us!"
"Yes, Sir!" Dom's voice boomed from the siege tank.
Landon and Cornelia joined them as they ran. The hospital was only a thousand yards away, but at that moment, it felt like miles.
Unearthly equine screams exploded in the darkness. Terror coursed through her as though she'd been struck by lightning. Una felt her knees give out. She tripped and slid to a stop on the cold ground.
Landon ran back for her. He draped her arm over his shoulders and took hold of her wrist. His other hand grasped her side as he lifted her to her feet.
Death Knights and Argent Crusaders galloped past. Una took several deep breaths to steady herself, but only felt more unsteadied. The world spun like a top.
"Light help us," Landon cried to Ash and Cornelia as they hurried to catch up. "It's a culling!"
Una didn't understand. The trolls had attacked, but that was standard troll behavior. Trolls were just like that. They were rash and unpredictable; violent and territorial. Besides, it was a small village and desperate. Precious supplies were within their grasp. However foolhardy, who could blame them? The warriors were dead and the remainders were harmless civilians.
Whatever Ash said was lost to the wind and the engines of the tanks as they finally raced through the perimeter.
"No! We have to stop them!" Una cried, trying to tear herself from the human's grasp. But Landon's grasp tightened, his fingers digging in to her side.
Medics rushed out to meet Ash, a stretcher held at the ready. He gently lowered the dwarf onto the stretcher.
"Need another!" He barked to the medics, reaching out to take Una from Frost.
"I'm fine!" Una pulled away from them, stepping rapidly away as more medics emerged with another stretcher. "We have to stop the culling!"
"The village is lost." Ash declared, reaching out to her. "All that can be done now is to stop the Scourge from claiming them."
Una shook her head, stepping backwards once again. The troll warriors had been very much alive when they first attacked.
"Private, what you smell is the Plague of Undeath." Landon added grimly.
"They're already dead." Cornelia stated matter-of-factly.
Una shook her head, unable to process what she was being told. It had just been that one troll. Just one. Shouted orders to scrub in echoed throughout the tents. Una shook her head once more at Ash, Cornelia, and Landon.
Above the wall shone the bloody gleam of fires. It could only mean the village had caught on fire. Distant screams and the sounds of battle carried over the coiled square parapets. Even more distantly, though she was certain she was imagining it, came a roar of victory from the north.
The Scourge had won this battle and they'd done it for them.

Author's Note: Thanks again to KooriRoninHeart for proofreading my story! Love you, Sis! Also thanks again to Rooietroll for your wonderful and thoughtful review!
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