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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- 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
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Chapter Forty-Six – Nahoan Suntouched, Age 21
He was out of the fountain moments after he landed, startling a couple on the bench nearby. Pausing he tried to figure out the quickest way to get help for his friends. It was still very early in the day; most of the town was asleep. Choice made he raced up the ramp toward Sunfury Spire. The armed guardians paid him little heed as he ran past them. Once in the spire proper he stopped and looked around, to his surprise and delight standing near the throne was the Ranger-General and Lor'themar. Sylvanas was in discussion with a dark-haired High Elf in a crimson robe that he didn't recognize so he ran up to Lor'themar.
"Sir, please, my squad is in dire need of help … we are outnumbered twenty to one against the Shadowpine Trolls … we were out on patrol and were ambushed … I …" there was a snap and he lost the ability to speak.
"Children these days," the robed elf said rolling his eyes. "Rude … rude … such wild tails."
"Grand Magister," Sylvanas said tersely, "That is no child he is one of my rangers. Please give him back his voice so he can finish his report." She looked over at Nahoan, "Ranger Suntouched, take a deep breath and tell me exactly what happened as quickly as you can." The magister rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers.
Taking the suggested breath Nahoan started again. "My squad was ambushed by a large army of trolls while out on dawn patrol. At the moment they have found a safe haven on a rocky outlook near Elrendar River. However they only have five quivers of arrows between them. They need help, quickly."
"Even if he was telling the truth," The Grand Magister said, "it would take us at least an hour to reach the area in question and if that is the case, it must have taken this child an hour if not more on foot to reach us. It is way past time we can be any aid to his squad."
"No sir, you're wrong," Nahoan said holding up his left arm. "This bracer binds me to Silvermoon; it has only been a couple of minutes since I left them …"
The mage took Nahoan's wrist and studied the bracer. "Ah, the human-raised child, I remember you now; they had me craft this bracer … and you just now used it to reach us?"
"Yes sir," Nahoan said, frustrated at the lack of emotions from his superiors. They had to get back, had to do something.
"Lor'themar," Sylvanas said, "go to Farstriders Square round up as many Rangers as you can find, we'll probably be on a recovery mission by the time we reach them."
"Wait," the magister said, "Bring your people here to the Spire and hurry, there may still be time to save your men."
Lor'themar ran to open door of the Spire and let out the shrill call of the Farstriders, all around the city it was echoed by others. As the spire began to fill with Rangers and Guardians ready for battle Nahoan watched the magister and others in robes paint a hastily made rune on the floor of the spire.
"That better come out of the carpet, Rommath," King Anasterian said who had been watching silently from his throne.
The Grand Magister ignored his king as he stood up. "Everyone stand within the rune, child come here." As rangers and casters stepped into the circle Rommath brought Nahoan to the middle. "This is going to hurt … a lot," Rommath said as he began to chant. The bracer started to heat up, soon it was scalding his flesh and Nahoan tried to pull it out of the mage's grasp. The fingers were like steel and the burning sensation spread up his arm. He heard screaming and realized it was him as the rune at their feet started to glow. Lor'themar had just started to move toward him when there was a brilliant flash of light. Rommath let him go and he crumbled to the ground, surprised to find river rocks. Looking up Nahoan saw they had returned to where he had been a few minutes ago.
The trolls that had given him chase were in the process of swimming back across the river. They never made it as Rommath cast a spell freezing them and the water solid. The Rangers and Guardians from Silvermoon shouted their battle cries as they charged across the frozen river to aid their comrades. The mages and clerics that came with, hung back, attacking from afar. Struggling to his feet Nahoan stumbled to the edge of the river, the heat from the scalding bracer melted the ice allowing him to plunge his entire arm into the icy water. There was the sound of cracking and pulling his arm back he noticed a large fracture in the metal due to the drastic change of temperature. Bringing the bracer down hard on a nearby rock he finished the job and his shackle fell off, he was free.
Plunging his arm back into the water he looked across the way. The ledge he had left his squad at was being swarmed by trolls as the elves overran their foes on the ground. Pulling his arm from the water he flexed it, though painful it still worked. He ran toward the battle, unsheathing a dagger he carried. Ignoring those on the ground he scrambled up the cliff wall. As he reached his squad a large green troll stood up, a deadly looking knife in his hand, it was covered in blood. Grabbing the troll by his ponytail, Nahoan jerked him back hard at the same time he brought his dagger down along the troll's throat, slitting it. Throwing the troll over the edge he looked down to see Swiftwind laying still on the ground a crimson stain spreading across her chest. The others were standing, though it looked as if Captain Brightwing and Helios were both fighting one-handed. Moving quickly and with purpose, Nahoan used the training he had been taught all his life, but hadn't had the courage until now to apply, to cut down their attackers. At one point he could have sworn he heard his father's strong commands he used, to instruct him and Foster. With deadly accuracy his blade found the trolls' throats, hearts and other vital points.
A large red-haired troll tackled Solanna, it was the same one from earlier, his troll regeneration had healed him. Nahoan attacked knocking him away from his sister and then pressing his advantage bringing the blade down burying it in the troll's chest over and over until a strong hand grabbed his wrist and disarmed him. "Enough, that's enough Ranger stop … he's dead, he won't be getting back up." Nahoan glanced over his shoulder at Helios, the blood lust leaving him and he looked back down at the dead troll.
"What have I done?" he whispered.
"Saved Solanna's life," Helios said, "the trolls are in retreat, help me bring Swiftwind to the priests, I can't carry her … she still breathes they will be able to save her."
Nodding, Nahoan moved over to where Swiftwind laid, Solanna pressing a cloth against her wound. Brushing his sister gently aside Nahoan picked up his injured friend and carried her down the mountain. Laying her down next to a priestess he stepped back. "I'll look at that arm after I'm done with her," the healer said.
Nahoan nodded and moved away from the group. He looked down at his armor, it was covered in blood. Glancing around, he saw Halduron and Lor'themar speaking and off to the side; Helios and Solanna were giving each other comfort.
"Shorel'aran," he said whispering the Thalassian farewell, he slipped into the river that had been thawed and let the current carry him downstream. After he was out of sight of the battleground he swam across to the far side. Holding his breath he stepped down on the shore and remained there. Then he started to run.
Using every bit of knowledge he gained over the past year as a Farstrider he hid his passage the best he could. With the Quel'dorei focus on the trolls, maybe they would even push their advantage toward Tor'Watha; it would give him considerable time to slip away. He wasn't sure if anyone noticed his missing bracer, if not they wouldn't even think to look for him on this side of the river. The forest across the stream was greatly different from the everlasting autumn of Eversong. Aptly named Blackened Woods the land was still burnt from the dragonfires in the Second War, the trees were just now recovering their greenery. He was surprised how barren it looked. Keeping off the main road he skirted around the edge of a building which looked to be another sanctum of sorts. According to the maps he had studied there would be a small town, Tranquillien, soon on his left. Thinking it unwise that he seek shelter there, when it finally came into view he kept to the shadows.
He did give pause to think of his elven father, he should at least send a note. Saying thank you and a promise to return someday, one he intended on keeping … one day. There was also the matter of Rook. He would write down some words and give them to a guard at Thalassian Pass. Guards … he wondered if they would just let him walk past. He doubted it, his 'baby fat' probably still showed. He'd worry about that bridge when he came to it. For now his concern was finding relief for the burning of his arm, a glance showed the blistering had spread from his wrist almost to his shoulder. Nahoan wondered what kind of magic Rommath had used and how far it would spread. He came across a small homestead which had been lost to the dragons years ago. However there was a well and to his relief it still worked. He brought up a bucket and holding out his arm poured the cool water on his burns. Getting a second pail he removed his tunic and dunked it into the water to be used to bandage his arm. His body was screaming for respite but he pushed on. Once he was back in Darrowmere Forest he could rest.
His weary legs begged for a moment, he dropped to his knees, his body covered by sweat of fever or exhaustion he could not tell. As he knelt there gasping for breath in the distance far behind he heard a shrill whistle. Stumbling to his feet he began to run again, had he been covering his tracks, he couldn't remember. The sun was now high in the sky, his trail would be easy to follow he was afraid. Then again, they didn't need to track him. They knew where he was going; there was only one way out of Quel'Thalas.
His arm throbbing he was force to stop again, it felt as if the burn had reached his shoulder. Perhaps he was just being foolish … what was the use of being free, if he was dead? "Because it was something I chose to do, of my own free will," he said softly. A thought came to him; he had once tried to escape by water there was nothing stopping him now. The shore to The Great Sea lay to the west and the harbor of Stratholme to the south of that. If he remembered the maps he studied there was nothing but rocky walls from the two points. No chances of running into another soul, more likely becoming shark food. Changing his path he ran west, his body running on willpower now.
The apple and sweet roll he had for breakfast seemed like a lifetime ago. He paused at a small lake and tasted the water, spitting it back out, it tasted like sulfur. No food … no drink, he really was an idiot. Shaking his head he soaked his arm for a moment, letting the cloth still tied around it to absorb some water. He staggered to his feet and continued moving, he heard the whistle a few more times and too his relief it seemed to grow further away. At one point during the day there had been the sound of a horn, the call was unfamiliar to him and when it wasn't repeated he dismissed it. The smell of the ocean reached him, he was close. He stumbled and fell to the ground, the pain from his arm as he went to catch himself almost made him pass out. Going to stand he found his foot unable to move, he looked down he saw vines wrapped around his ankle. Using his good hand he started to break them away but they seemed to grow back as fast as he stripped them off. Frowning he reached for his dagger and then remembered Helios had taken it. He recalled why … he had killed for the sake of his friends. His hand trembled as the tears started to fall. He was sobbing when he sensed someone nearby; looking around through feverish eyes he saw the form of a High Elf separate from the shadows.
It dawned on him the roots were a form of trap, one he had stumbled into. "Ranger Suntouched?" the female asked in Thalassian.
He shook his head, "No ma'am," he replied in Common.
She smirked and knelt down, the grin faded quickly though and was replaced by a look of concern. "By the Sunwell," she whispered. Ignoring his pleas she pulled him toward her and glanced down his back, and her cool fingers ran up the length of his neck. "That stupid moronic mage," she cursed under her breath. With a wave of her hand she freed his feet from the root but before he could move she reached down and grabbed his wrist. Putting his arm across her shoulders she knelt and reached between his legs, grabbing his thigh she stood with him across her shoulders. He was too shocked at being carried this way to fight her, or perhaps beyond caring. She began running back the way he had come from. Bringing a horn to her lips she used it to call out, it was the same notes he had heard earlier. As expected there was a reply far in the distance.
The way the ivory-haired elf ran, you would have guessed Nahoan didn't weigh more than a small child. He wanted to fight her, but he had used up all his vigor to reach as far as he had and it was all for naught. Instead he found himself dozing and trapped in dreams where he was covered with blood. After one such nightmare he woke screaming and struggling with the elf that held him.
"Careful," she shouted quickly taking a step back and kneeling to give herself a more solid footing.
"It hurts," he wailed, not sure if he meant the burn which had spread to chest or the memories.
"I know …" she said softly, "I know. Just need to make it a little more …"
"To the chains that await me," Nahoan said sadly.
"To the healers that can mend you," she replied, "just need to go a little further."
"No, you've made it far enough, Sister," Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner said as she appeared from the shadows.
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Brothers