Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Shattered	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 8001 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
- 28
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Foster Conway
Foster rode his black stallion Knight alongside the wagon driven by his father, the regal horse had replaced Bishop who they had lost shortly after escaping the plague. Nathaniel sat beside Pa his eyes in constant movement scanning for threats.
“The forest looks so different,” Nathaniel said, “it is hard to believe it’s the same one we used to play in as children.”
“This may not have been one of my smartest decisions, but I’m sure a couple of old Silver Hands can keep me safe.” Pa said, “Sounded like a good way to surprise your Mother for her birthday. We had to leave behind a lot of heirlooms when we left our homestead. Hoping they are still there, it’s been a few of years.”
“We were on leave after returning from our trip in Northrend, we could use a change of scenery. This area is relatively safe now and days.” Foster said. “There is even talk of returning the forest to the west back to fertile lands. The land of our birth is too tainted, nothing will grow here again I’m afraid.”
“I’m not seeing anything but a few wolves, though not healthy ones.” Nathaniel reported.
“They should keep their distance,” Foster said unconcerned.
The same road they used to run along as children home from school came into view and Pa directed the horse and cart down it. A short time later, the old homestead emerged. Except for a couple of broken windows, it looked the same.
“I had so many dreams and hopes for this place,” Pa said pulling up on the reins and stopping the horses. “It was supposed to be in the family for generations, now we barely have land enough for a garden. And I have to work in the mill to make ends meet.”
Foster reached over and squeezed his father’s shoulder. “Stay here; let me make a sweep of the house first to make sure there aren’t any surprises. Brother, you scout around, be careful … everything in this land is tainted.”
As Nathaniel ran off to do as he asked Foster approached the house, taking his mace from his back, he channeled the Holy Light into it, and it glowed brightly. He tested the door; it swung open with a loud creak. Peering cautiously into the murk he saw their large dinner table sitting there, odds and ends scattered across it from hasty packing, covered in dust and time. Slowly he crossed the threshold. Once inside he chanted and the Light spilled out of him blessing the ground he stood on. For a moment every corner of the front room glowed. There was nothing there. Moving into the kitchen he did the same and once again found nobody. The same rang true for his parents’ old room. That left only the upstairs. Foster moved toward the steps when he heard a sound and stopped. It came again, from above.
“Anyone there?” he shouted.
There was no answer; taking his shield from his back he slowly started walking up the stairs, years of sneaking out of the house told him where the squeaky steps were and he avoided them, moving silently up. The sound game again, it sent shivers down his spine. After the years of fighting undead, there was an undeniable sound they made when moving. And it was coming from behind the door of Janice’s old room.
“Oh please, no,” he whispered. When they had left the forest of their birth, his last action had been to make sure his sister stayed in the light. She had been infected with the plague; there was no hope for her. With Janice’s blessing, he had aided her leaving this world behind. They had attempted to take her corpse with them when they fled, but creatures killed by the plague don’t tend to stay dead and his sister was no different. But Nathaniel had burnt empty husk in the battle that followed. The Scourge wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of resurrecting ashes with so many bodies readily available.
Bracing his heart he cast a bolt of Holy Light causing the door to crash into the room. Something gave out a scream and Foster let the magic flow out of him igniting the floor he stood on. It would not harm the good but the undead … the ghoul it caught howled in pain. With a cry the paladin lowered his shield and charged in swinging his mace. The undead creature hissed; a foul green mist spewed from its lips. Careful not to breathe it in Foster brought his hammer down, crushing the creature’s head. A second cast incinerated the remains in holy fire. Using his mace to break out the window, Foster brought forth another blessing, consecrating the ground making it and the air around him safe for the moment. A quick tour of the rest of the upstairs revealed it empty. He let out a whistle to signal it was clear and Nathaniel answered with a whistle of his own. Returning his mace and shield to his back Foster looked around the room he stood in.
It was the one he and Nathaniel had shared for many years. In the corner were the mattresses they had slept on, like elves. A habit he had once promised his father they would stop but never had. Walking over to a shelf, he smiled picking up the worn teddy bear he found there. It was Nathaniel’s old toy. Chanting softly he blessed the fuzzy doll to make sure no taint lingered on it. Finding an empty bag in the closet, he placed the bear in it and started looking around for anything else that was worth saving. Downstairs he could hear Nathaniel and his father doing the same. They must have heard the battle their search was noisy and hurried as they ransacked their old homestead, eager to leave the memories and curse behind.
As he worked his way through the closet tossing out old worn out boots and piling the clothes on the bed, he spied a small book in the corner. Bending down he picked it up, the word “Private” was scrawled across the top, beneath that was “That means you Baby Brother!” And he laughed it was his old diary. A hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched it.
“Ooo,” Nathaniel said, “what’s this?”
Foster scowled, “give it back,” he said holding out his hand.
Nathaniel just laughed and scooted away, opening the cover. Foster charged and grabbed the elf around the waist bringing him to the ground with a thud. “Give it back!” he said again, but had a smile of his own on his lips. Nathaniel tried to squirm away and Foster held him down. “I don’t think so, you little thief!”
He reached around trying to grab the book from Nathaniel’s outstretched hand. He had the strength but his brother’s arms were longer. The elf opened the book to the first page. “My dearest, how I missed you …” Moving his hand up higher on Nathaniel’s chest he dug his fingers into the exposed underarm, even with his mail breastplate on his brother let out a yelp and his arm dropped. Foster grabbed the book with his free hand but Nathaniel held tight.
“Seriously?” Both of them looked up at their father standing in the doorway. “Some things never change, do they?”
“He started it!” They said in unison and then laughed, Pa smiled.
Nathaniel released his hold on the diary and Foster pushed him up and off, the elf rolled gracefully and stood, offering Foster a hand and pulling him to his feet. Foster watched his brother look around the room. “Not much left,” Nathaniel said. Walking over to what had been his dresser he looked through it but didn’t seem inclined to take anything. Foster glanced through the books on the bookcase, tossing a couple into the bag that he thought Wendy’s children might enjoy. Nathaniel moved beside him and reached down picking up something that had fallen and been covered with webs and dust. He brushed it off to reveal and small tin soldier. “I bought this for you to replace the one I’d broken,” his brother said.
Foster took the toy and added it to the bag, “I learned a very important lesson from that whole fiasco,” he said.
“What was that?” Nathaniel asked.
“That my middle name was Wilson,” Foster said with a grin. “And that I have a very important responsibility, keeping my family safe … though can’t say I haven’t wished you hadn’t made that so difficult at times.”
“Just here to keep you on your toes,” Nathaniel said, leaving the room they shut the door behind them. “Like it matters,” his brother said resting a hand on the frame.
Foster pointed, below his brother’s hand were marks … their heights as they had grown. A practice that had stopped once Nathaniel out grew him. The elf smiled; a grin that waivered as he looked over Foster’s shoulder. Turning around the paladin saw his father standing in the doorway to Janice’s old room.
“Pa?”
“Was it her?” he asked.
“No,” Foster said approaching, “we made sure to destroy her body, remember. She is resting in peace, I promise Pa. It was just a wandering ghoul; the land is full of them. I blessed the room; it is safe to go in.”
Pa shook his head and retreated, stepping instead into the bedroom Jenna and Sara had shared. Foster walked into Janice’s room and gathered a few items he was sure Ma would appreciate, some sewing Janice had done and a journal that he hadn’t the heart to read but perhaps someday the words written there would give comfort. Afterwards he joined the other two downstairs. The pile was smaller than expected.
“Guess we didn’t need the wagon after all,” Foster said. “That will make getting it back home easier; we won’t have to ship it from the Hinterlands.” They had flown on griffons from Stormwind, the first time for Pa had journeyed in such a way, he said he would travel no other way now. Their escape from plague had been on foot and the trek had been wrought with perils.
“Some of the heirlooms I wanted had been damaged, it would hurt your Mother worse to see them in that state then not see them at all,” their Pa said. “You pack the saddle bags, I’ll go check the barn and make sure there is nothing there I might want.”
Foster nodded and joined Nathaniel filling the bags. One piece was lacy shawl. “I remember Ma wearing this to services on Sunday,” he said as he folded it gently, “said it belonged to her mother.”
As they finished packing, he took one final look around the house and with a silent goodbye walked out the door behind Nathaniel. They tossed the bags into the back of the wagon. “Wonder if memories got to him,” his brother said, “I’ll go check on him.”
As the elf jogged toward the barn, Foster walked over to Knight. Suddenly his brother froze mid-step. Nathaniel tilted his head, he was listening or trying to pick up a trail, Foster had seen the action a hundred times.
“What is it?” he hissed.
Nathaniel reached for his bow that he carried on his back; Foster cursed and quickly took up his mace and shield. Nathaniel whipped around and let the arrow go, Foster spun at the same time calling the holy light to shield him. The stench of decay reached him first, and then from the trees emerged a giant undead abomination. It was not the first of such creature they had fought, though last time they had an army with them. The giant undead, ogre-like creature was created by cobbled together corpses. The stomach-churning reek was choking and a green-brown haze surrounded it. The guts of the creature spilled from a jagged gap in its stomach, Foster knew if it got close enough there would be flies feasting on the exposed bowels. Three disproportionate arm-like limbs emerged from the bloated body, two bearing bloody cleavers the other a thick chain with a hook on the end. Its swollen tongue dangled from between crooked yellow teeth.
The arrow his brother had shot, lodged in the shoulder of the abomination. “Pa!” Foster shouted, to his brother he said, “Get back … remember they are slow of body and mind, but tough and strong.” Suddenly the large chain shot out but it wasn’t aimed at either of them, instead to his horror it ripped into Knight who let out a scream as the razor sharp weapon sunk into its side. With a jerk, the horse flew back and toward the abomination.
The creature sunk its teeth into the still screaming horse. Foster cast a spell killing his steed at the same time an arrow buried in Knight’s heart. “No run away now,” the golem said in a pleased voice.
Nathaniel turned toward the barn and Foster did the same. Out of it came their pa, behind him was a robed man. Pa was bloody and dazed; a large gash ran down his cheek. The one behind him shoved him to the ground, “time to repay old debts, faggots.” Foster frowned it was the bully of their childhood, Vance Dixon.
Suddenly Pa turned and brought Vance to the ground. The other let out a shout.
“Brother, behind you!” Nathaniel shouted.
Foster turned and saw the abomination clumsy charging. “Help Pa!” he shouted as he brought his shield up and channeling the Holy Light into his mace met the giant undead head-on. His whole body shook as one of the cleaver crashed into his shield threatening to break it. Swinging his mace, he aimed for one of the large legs. If he could get it off balance, make it fall … it wouldn’t be able to get up quickly. Out of the corner of his eye he kept an eye on the battle between his brother, father and Vance. Cursing at the black smoke he saw. “He’s a fucking necromancer,” he shouted, “don’t let him get a spell off!”
“No problem,” his father said, slamming a fist into Vance’s face, sending him flying. “I should have never given you that second chance, boy.   There won’t be a third chance for you to hurt my boys.”
The creature he was keeping at bay let out an angry howl and tried to get past Foster. “I don’t think so,” the paladin said, chanting. The ground as his feet became bathed in holy light and the flesh golem screamed. Using the inner strength granted to him by the Light he slammed his mace into the left knee of the abomination and the creature stumbled. Spinning completely around he used the momentum built to slam into the right knee and then danced away as the abomination fell, guts and blood splattering.
Running toward his family Foster chanted and a bright light blasted out of his outstretched hand and slammed into Vance who was struggling to stand. “We go now!” He shouted.
“Let me finish him,” their pa said, lifting up a large hoe he must have gotten from the barn. “He’s not fit to …”
“Pa where there is one scourge there is an army,” Foster said, “Please we have to go!”
Nathaniel nodded and jumped into the back wagon, his bow drawn. He fired shot after shot into the fallen abomination. Pa glanced over to the still form of Vance and then spitting on the ground he raced over to the wagon. Foster leapt into the front seat by his father, “go!”
Their father slapped the reins down and the horses bolted away. Nathaniel let out a strangled cry and Foster quickly turned to see dark tentacles wrapping itself around his brother’s throat. "No!" In one fluid motion, he jumped into the back and cast a spell shielding his brother from harm, breaking Vance’s magical hold on him. “Get down,” he ordered, pulling his brother to the floor of the wagon. Then he stood using his armor as a shield for his pa’s back. A curse from Pa drew his attention to the front, a small troupe of ghouls emerged from the edge of the forest. “Go through them!” Foster said as he cast bolts of Holy Light at the undead creatures. Nathaniel knelt in the wagon and fired off arrows at their attackers. Suddenly out of his corner of his eye Foster saw a flash he barely had time to move in front of it so it struck him first instead of Nathaniel. He grunted and looked down at the hook buried in his chest. He suddenly found himself flying through the air; he collided with the abomination he had injured.
“Miss me, did you?” Foster grunted as he used his magic to slow down the bleeding. Grabbing the hook with both hands, he pulled it out of his chest. Burying a fist into the puss oozing gap in the golem stomach he chanted and the creature exploded in an explosion of Holy Light. A strong arm grabbed him and he found himself pulled into the wagon.
“Told you not to stop,” he said.
“Didn’t stop,” Nathaniel replied, “just changed directions. Hold on, can you heal yourself?”
“Of course,” Foster lied; he could feel the wrongness inside him. Experience told him he still had time before the plague the weapon had been tainted with overtook him.
“I think we’re clear,” Pa said after a while, slowing the horses down. “Damn, your mother would kill me if I lost one of you boys over material things.”
Nathaniel smiled, “we’ve been lost before we keep finding our way back.”
Foster sat silently using all his training as a Holy Paladin of the Silver Hand to keep himself alive and the plague that crept within him at bay.
“All right,” Pa said, “let’s get back to the dwarves in the Hinterland; think I’ve had enough adventures for today.”
“Wait a second,” Foster said, “Baby Brother come here, this wound is making it hard for me to move.”
Nathaniel looked concerned as he knelt, reaching for the gash Foster was keeping covered with his arm. Foster took his hand with his own, stopping him. “Nathaniel,” he said, his brother raised an eyebrow at the use of his name. “I love you.”
“And I love …” the rest of the reply was cut off when Foster cast a spell, a look of shock crossed his brother’s face as the spell knocked him unconscious. Foster caught him as he fell and laid him down.
“What the hell are you doing?” his father demanded.
“I can’t go back with you,” Foster said standing.   “That weapon was tainted with the plague, the same that killed Janice. I’m so sorry, Pa. I had to, he wouldn’t have left me … you have to, you have to save him for me. Please …” tears fell down his cheek.
A look of horror crossed his father’s face; he pa suddenly looked very old. “I can’t lose you, my son, what will Norah say? What will I tell your sisters … no, there has to be a way! Why … why did I bring you back here?”
“Pa, please,” Foster said, “I don’t have a lot of time … please … I hope I did right by you, I tried my best to protect them all.   Please, he’ll be lost … don’t let him mourn me forever, his forever is so long. And you and Ma, I love you both so very much. Don’t worry Janice and I will be waiting for you. We’ll see you again, just no rush reaching us okay.” A shudder ran down him. “Pa …”
His father took a step toward him and Foster backed away. “You can’t … I’m sorry.”
“I’ve always been proud of you, my son. I love you,” Pa said, tears fell down his grizzled cheeks, “A man is not supposed to outlive his children … what will you do?”
“I’m going back home, Pa,” he said.
Pa slowly climbed back into the seat of the wagon and took up the reins. He glanced back at Nathaniel, lying unconscious in the back of the wagon. “He’ll come looking for you.”
“There won’t be anything left for him to find,” Foster said, “you make him understand, please he must never come back here. Go … now …”
There was so much to say and at the same time nothing they could say. Foster watched his father and brother ride off; his father was driving the horses hard. “I’m so sorry, Pa,” he whispered turning back the direction they had come. “Ma will forgive you, eventually … she loves you.”
By the time he reached the old homestead, his entire left side was numb. Vance must have slithered back into his hole there was no sign of him … only the rotting remains of the abomination he had destroyed. Walking into the house, he made his way slowly up to his bedroom. On his way, he used what little untainted magic he had left to cast bolts of holy fire into various pieces of furniture by the time he reached his bed the house was ablaze. He coughed slightly as the thick smoke started filling up the room. He cast a final spell catching the mattress he sat on, on fire.   Then he closed his eyes and thought of happier times.
A warm light filled him and he smiled as the pain left and in front of him he saw Janice, she was radiant and smiling. The only Conway child to share their mother’s crimson locks they hung freely around her face. He reached for her when suddenly the pain returned it was so cold it hurt and he screamed. He struggled against it, blindly reaching for his sister who was reaching out to him, as his fingers found hers, she disappeared and darkness came over him. It was absolute and for a long time he felt nothing at all. Then his eyes flickered open and he saw himself lying on a brick floor. Confused for a moment he laid there.
“Another failure ... you have been measured and found wanting ... dispose of it ...”
Yes, instructor, rise minions, rise and feast upon the weak!”
Foster watched as a ghoul crawled toward him, drooling. Unexpectedly the void inside him was filled with a shadowy force; it was powerful, dark and welcoming. Uncertainly fled and strength returned. Reaching out he grabbed the first ghoul around the neck and snapped its head off. He killed two more before they were called off. Foster turned to face the white haired man that approached; he was in gleaming blue armor that frosted the air around him.
Foster smiled darkly and said, “Reborn, I shall become an instrument of doom ...”
The other nodded, “The Lich King will be pleased with this initiate. Place upon it the trappings befitting a herald of Arthas.”
Foster glanced at himself and noticed his paladin armor was gone, he was standing naked. The wound in his chest was scarred over. Every beat of his heart he could feel the darkness inside him, feeding him, giving him strength. It felt glorious.
A robed man standing nearby nodded, “Right away, instructor”
The instructor turned back to Foster, “Listen, death knight ... Listen for the voice of your master. He calls to you now. Go now! Suffer well, brother…”
Foster smiled as the hate filled whispers of the Lich King filled his mind, “finally a brother I can be proud of,” he said darkly.

The storm rained down on Foster as he rested on a fallen tree. Unable to feel the cold he sat there letting the pain and water wash over him. He was almost incapable of feeling physical discomfort, but the mental agony was terrible. If he had a soul left he would swear it was being torn out of his body while set aflame. Rage, hungry soul-consuming anger threatened to consume him. It had been too long, Sara was right he wasn’t strong. For her sake, he was trying. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and with a flick of his wrist the dark necromancer magic inside him snared a rabbit that had been hopping by. The magical tentacles brought the animal toward him, it let out a squeal of fright and Foster grinned. The smile quickly became a grimace and he quickly snapped the rabbit’s neck ending its suffering and denying the hate inside him satisfaction.
“Be careful men we have a mighty bunny slayer in our midst.” A voice said in accented Orcish.
Foster’s smile returned as he glanced over his shoulder. “You should get out of the weather before you catch a cold,” he answered in the same tongue. A group of three orcs stood nearby, all armed. Their skin was ashen, not the emerald he was used to.
“You’re trespassing on Blackrock Clan lands,” one of the orcs said.
Foster’s smile widened.
“You find that funny human?” the orc said advancing, in his hand was a heavy mace.
“Moments like this,” Foster said taking his Rune Blade from his back and chanting, freezing his blood and hardening his flesh. “I feel like perhaps the gods haven’t forsaken me after all. Please do not fight me one at a time. Lok'tar Ogar!”
Hours later, he sent the last orc into the ground as a ghoul. The taint from the battle scarred the forest land; he’d have to make sure to lead Sara and Nathaniel around it when they moved out again. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t in pain and his mind was clear. The moon illuminated his walk back to the cave, as he approached he was not surprised by the shadow that separated itself from the wall.
“Put a shirt on,” he chided, “you’ll catch a cold.” The rain let up but still hadn’t stopped.
Nathaniel shrugged his slender shoulders and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Feel better?” he asked. “Smart move severing their vocal cords, their screams were bothering Sara.”
“You could hear them?” Foster frowned. “I’m sorry … I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“I know,” Nathaniel replied coolly.
Foster sighed and taking off his helm, he set it down, then he crossed his arms and mimicked Nathaniel’s stance. “What is it?” he asked, “I’m not the only one with something eating them on the inside. You’ve been very … cantankerous lately.”
Nathaniel smirked and for a moment, his eyes twinkled, but just as quickly it faded and a forlorn look replaced the delight. “Tonight is … we’ll be home tomorrow, well Sara and I … Big Brother, I don’t want to lose you again. I can’t lose you … please, there has to be another way.” Foster scowled and Nathaniel exhaled loudly. “Sorry I know it’s no easier on you, forgive me I’m trying.”
“I know you are, Baby Brother,” Foster said, his expression softening. He worked on the clasps of his breastplate and slid it off; placing it near the helm, he sat down at the mouth of the cave, crossing his legs and his back against the cave wall. “Sit,” he said.
Nathaniel grabbed a blanket that had slid off his shoulders when he stood. Gracefully he sat down and Foster wrapped the blanket around him. “Sleep,” Foster said, “when you get scared in the future remember these arms around you. Let them keep you grounded.” Nathaniel didn’t answer but his hand reached up and grabbed his ivory ponytail. Foster smiled. “Love you, Baby Brother, sweet dreams.”
A short time later as he contently felt Nathaniel’s soft breaths against his neck, he heard a groan. Thankful to his brother’s light weight, he stood easily cradling the sleeping elf. Moving deeper into the fissure, he found Omelet awake and hovering near Sara who was curled up in the back of the cave. Her eyes found his and he saw fear in them.
“Little Sis?” he asked kneeling.
“My water broke,” she whispered, Foster startled and looked down. There was a pool of liquid underneath her; the blanket she had wrapped around her was soaked. Nathaniel was instantly awake and untangled himself from Foster’s grasp, kneeling down with them.
“That doesn’t mean the baby’s arrival is imminent,” Foster reassured her, “how bad are the contractions?”
“I don’t’ feel anything,” she said, “My back just hurts. It’s too early!” Foster slid is gauntlet off and reached toward her only to pull back and clench his hand. Her warm hands encircled around his. “You won’t hurt her,” she said, moving his hand and placing it on her belly, “help us.”
Before he had been turned, Foster would have used the Holy Light to examine the child and mother but that power had been stolen. Instead he went on more basic information, touch. “She’s dropped … Sis I need to see how far you are dilated. And we don’t know how early she is, we haven’t exactly kept a calendar.”
She nodded and adjusted herself, letting the blanket fall. Nathaniel moved and let her lay her head on his lap. Foster lifted her legs up so they bent at the knee and spread them out. Trying to judge by just looking wasn’t working. “I can’t touch you there; not for the sake of modesty but … please Baby Brother check for me.”
“How?” Nathaniel asked, taking his blanket, folding it and placing it under her head. He moved between her legs.
“Take two fingers put them into her vagina, may have to press hard. See how much give you feel in the cervix. I can’t see the crown so we have time just need to see how much time we have.” He watched as Nathaniel did ask he asked. “That’s right, careful now … sorry Sis they may hurt a little.”
However, it was the elf that started whimpering, Foster startled. “No!” he growled, “don’t do this to me now, I need you Nathaniel!”
His brother pulled his hand back like it had been bit by a viper. “Blood,” Nathaniel whispered, “my fingers were covered with blood … I didn’t know it was you … I just wanted to please him.”
Foster’s blood chilled and Sara looked stricken. Grabbing the elf and turning him around to face him the Death Knight cursed. “I love you, Baby Brother.” Tears streamed down the elf’s cheeks and a look of helpless came over him. Sitting his brother down, Foster said a silent prayer to the Light and slipped a finger into his sister judging width of her cervix. “The good news is, we still have time …”
“And the bad news,” Sara asked, “you’re not going to tell me I’m having twins are you?”
“No but we can’t wait, we have to get you home, we’re going to get wet” Foster said, “we’re riding Knight and heaven help anyone that crosses our path.”
Stepping over his brother Foster opened a Death Gate and summoned his mount through the portal. Icy blue flames flickered from his hooves, and the horse’s eyes echoed the flames that Foster saw in his own gaze. Glancing back into the cave Foster saw Sara trying to struggle into her wet dress. Shaking his head, he took it from her and instead wrapped her nude body in his cloak. Picking her up in his arms he placed her up on the saddle, so her legs hung off to the side. Walking back he grabbed his helm and gauntlets and put them back on, then offered Nathaniel a hand. “Let’s finish this, come on Baby Brother it’s time to go home.”
The elf mutely took his hand and let him be pulled to his feet. Omelet followed them outside the cave. Nathaniel climbed into the saddle, picking Sara up so she was cradled in his arms. Foster swung up behind both them and reached around to grab the reins. At his command, the undead stead galloped off. Sara let out a whistle and Omelet followed behind them.
“Keep me posted, Sis,” he said, “if anything changes let me know.”
“My back just hurts really badly,” she said, “must be the back labor Wendy complained about with little Henry’s birth … sorry I should have recognized it sooner.”
Omelet easily kept pace with them as they raced through the forest, kicking up mud from the sodden ground as they rode, soon reaching a well-worn road.   Foster turned west and followed it, in the early morning light they came across the crossroads known as the Three Corners, it connected the town of Lakeshire with Elwynn and Duskwood. Taking the Northern path Foster raced on, Knight’s curse helped him bare their weight with ease. The horse would not tire. As they approached the border of Elwynn Forest, Foster saw the blue lion banners of Stormwind along with two guards posted on either side of the road. Bracing himself, he raced through. The attack he expected never came and he glanced over his shoulder at the pair of guards as they saluted him and kept their post.
“That was unexpected,” he said.
“We’ve been nomads for months,” Sara said, “you weren’t the only Death Knight to break free of your bonds, maybe they are used to your um type?”
“Perhaps,” Foster said, “but forgive me if I keep my blade close.” Nathaniel was painfully quiet and Foster cursed himself. “You still with us, Baby Brother?” he asked.
“I am,” Nathaniel said, “But I sure wish I wasn’t … I’d forgotten about that moment.   You were begging me to help you and I couldn’t … I just couldn’t.”
Sara reached up and placed a hand on Nathaniel’s cheek. Her own face soaked from the rain, the hood of her cloak did little to keep her dry. “I know … please don’t think of it again, I forgave you and I still do. Focus on the fact I’m going to be a mommy before sunset. Be happy with me.”
“I’d be happy if we had you in a warm house, you’re going to catch a chill out here dressed like this.” Nathaniel replied, but his shoulders got a little straighter.
Foster smiled. “I smell the logging camp,” he said. Their parents’ house wasn’t far from the mill.
Sara shook her head. “Goldshire,” she pleaded.
“Baby Sis,” Foster said, “you’re about to give birth. We need to get you to Ma.”
“Jenna is a priestess,” Sara said, “Please … I can’t face Ma and Pa with this on my face.” She gestured to the tattoos scaring her face. “Take me to our sister.”
Foster reached around Nathaniel and placed a hand on her belly, he felt the baby inside kick. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. They rode past the houses around the mill and continued racing down the road toward Goldshire. Up ahead he saw a wagon stuck in the mud, another life he wouldn’t have hesitated to stop. Instead, he aimed the horse to race around. The driver was wrapped in a cloak and looked up as he heard them approach. One glance at the sinister horse and dark rider, the traveler reached for a rifle resting in the back of the wagon. Wrapping his arms around his siblings, Foster didn’t slow and raced past.
“Omelet no!” Sara shouted.
Foster glanced behind; the raptor had slowed and was approaching the wagon. At Sara’s voice, it hurried to catch up. The man that had bent back down to the wheel suddenly stood, the wind knocked back his hood and in the rain, Foster saw his father’s eyes looking back. A look of shock on the older man’s face, he’d recognized his daughter’s voice. “Damn it,” Foster whispered, digging his heels into his mount.
The shout their father made was lost in the wind, but the shot from his rifle was clear. “Why is that man shooting at us?” Sara shouted.
“Because a death knight has kidnapped his daughter,” Foster growled, “it’s Pa, damn it.”
“Well at least his wagon is stuck,” Sara said, “will give us time.”
“Or maybe he’ll unhitch the horse and give chase,” Nathaniel said, looking over Foster’s shoulder.
Foster urged the horse into the woods, it was not the forest of their childhood but their parents had lived here for a few years, it wasn’t unknown land to him. After a few minutes he said, “Please, tell me we’ve lost him, Baby Brother.”
“I can’t see him, but with this rain I can’t hear anything … but also means it’s hard for him too.” Nathaniel replied.
Sara let out a low groan. “Brother, I … think …” the rest was cut off by her cry.
“Brother, take off my gauntlet,” Foster instructed holding up his right hand. Nathaniel did as he asked and he slipped his now bare hands under the cloak around Sara and between her legs. What he felt made him pull the horse up. “We’re out of time,” he said hoping off Knight. “I’m sorry Sis, what I do now is for the sake of your daughter.” He let out the whistle for aid of the Farstriders and heard it returned. “Get down, both of you … hurry.”
Nathaniel hopped off the horse, still cradling Sara. Foster reached around Nathaniel’s neck and unhooked the clasp to his cloak. Sliding the cloak from his brother’s shoulders, he placed it on the ground. “Put her down, I’m sorry Sis … your daughter is coming and she’s coming now.”
Sara nodded her understanding but all her focus was on her child. Foster pulled Nathaniel away. “I need to go,” he said, waving a hand to silent his brother. “I need to go, but I won’t deny you the chance to tell me goodbye this time. Meet me behind the barn, tonight. Baby Brother, she needs you now. Help her; Pa will be here soon he’ll know what to do.”
Kneeling down he kissed Sara on the forehead. “She’s ready to come meet you, if you feel like pushing you can now. It’s going to be okay, Little Sis … I love you. Make sure you tell my niece all about me, but just the good stuff.”
“Don’t leave me,” she gasped. “I need you!”
Foster shook his head and stepped back. Nathaniel knelt down in between them and brushed a hand across her cheek. “It is okay, Sis, we got this.” The elf glanced up at him, “Pa, is coming I can hear his horse … I’ll see you tonight.”
Foster grabbed Omelet’s lead and quickly looped it around a branch to stop the raptor from following and then swinging back into the saddle he raced away. A moment later, there was the sound of gunfire and something struck his shoulder. It was followed by a whistle from Nathaniel and Foster prayed his father would stop chasing him and follow the sound. He reached back and touched his shoulder, his armor had protected him; the bullet had left a small dent. It hadn’t been a shot to kill; unaware he had dropped off Sara his father was careful with his aim.
After no more shots were fired, he pulled up on the reins and summoned the Death Gate. “Soon,” he whispered to himself. Instead of stepping through it, he called Fluffy to him, making a mental note not to say that name aloud around his Ebon Hold brothers. Climbing on the back he flew up into the sky, the rain that had been falling since last night continued, fighting the urge to fly back and make sure his family was okay he headed in the opposite direction. “One more promise to keep,” he said aloud.
- 26
- 27
- 28
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Shattered