Scourge - 9 (Patreon)

"Fiend!" A soldier yelled, and the undead monstrosity was struck with immediate gunfire, blasting it back over the wall before it could cross the battlements. More clambered up after it and were engaged quickly.

The Thornwall, as it had quickly come to be called, was working, but it couldn't stop the crypt fiends climbing. It slowed them significantly, but the bastards were nimble and could dodge around the thorns even if a witch was animating them to strike back.

In its primary goal, however, it was doing perfectly. Ghouls couldn't reach the base of the wall without an abomination to clear the path, and so long as at least one witch was present growing thorns any necromancers that tried to interfere made their positions plain to the mages in the towers who struck back with a fury.

Fewer necromancers alive to raise the dead and fewer ghouls clambering through the interior were things everyone was happy with, but it still hadn't solved our problems entirely.

Which meant the job of patching the wall up whenever the meat wagons rolled out remained. Working on a weaker patch I kept half an eye on the fight with the fiends; if things went bad I would step in, and when a soldier was tied down with webs I’d pause to burn them away with a lance of Astral fire.

We lost too many people over the wall that way.

"Just the roots now," I mumbled, refocusing. With how long the patches had to last, we had created a root system inside the wall which lead to great trunks behind it, allowing the reinforcement to draw nutrients from the soil. It had the side effect of leaving the back side a patchy green and grey from the leaves necessary for the trees, but I didn't really see that as a downside.

By the end of the siege it almost seemed like the wall might be more tree than artificial edifice of stone, honestly. A thought which amused me greatly.

"Lady Arevin," A runner called, stopping beside me and breathing hard, "Lord Crowley has requested your immediate presence in the campgrounds. He says his daughter has returned and there are injuries."

I nodded to him. "I'll be down as soon as I can."

"He said–"

He was interrupted by the deafening sound of cannon firing, and then the sound of one exploding. It was distant, but I still ducked. Smoke was rising from somewhere well on the other side of the gate; another cannon lost to overuse, and more severely injured survivors another witch would be handling.

Healing my ringing ears I mentally added earmuffs to the list of things I needed to invent. To stop me having to heal a hundred thousand cases of tinnitus if nothing else. "I'll be back there before you." I yelled over the din as I finished up the link. "I can't interrupt my task if it's not an emergency, and there are other healers on call."

Tomorrow I would be one of them, taking a break from danger and sitting in a warm tent where all I had to do was throw healing magic at people. Clean out diseased and rotting wounds, regrow missing flesh, listen to endless griping and moaning... it sounded like heaven compared to the last few days.

Once I was done, I hurried off. It was a little tempting to go raven and fly down to find Lorna faster, but it wouldn't be that much faster and I still had at least the pretence of secrecy to work with. Instead, I stopped at one of the protruding leafy branches jutting out of the rear of the wall, grabbed on, and held on tight as I had it twist to lift me clear away from the wall and lower me down.

It had started as a way to get around blockages on the wall a few days past, having a branch lift me around a melee of crypt fiends and soldiers to reach the wounded on the other side before they bled out, but it was also just kind of fun.

And a much faster way of reaching the bottom. I was more than strong enough to hold on, and should anything go wrong... I could fly if I had to. Hard to be afraid of heights when you could fly.

On the way down I spotted Donovan slumped in front of one of Darius' barracks, where we all stayed. I was a little worried by the way he hadn't tucked his wings in, splaying out and taking up most of the yard, but Trix was there already.

By the time I got closer, she had things well in hand. Whatever wound had left his feathers soaked in blood was gone and, running a hand across his rump, I could tell that his ribs had been fixed properly.

Smiling softly I ruffled Trix's hair. "Good work." I said, keeping myself from grinning as she yelped and literally jumped in surprise. "He's tired but fine now."

"Y–yeah." She said, a wide smile growing on her face even as she clutched at her chest. "He just needs to sleep. Like, a lot." Fighting to turn her smile at my praise into a frown she pointed at me. "I'll get you back for that!"

"I'm sure you will, Twix." I laughed. There weren't going to be many opportunities for me to do that anymore; Trix was a bit of a late bloomer, but she was getting taller now. No way was she going to stay shorter than me for long.

Stepping past my now pouting apprentice, I followed the vibrant heartbeat of Celestine's magic to one of the mess rooms. Inside were Darius, Celestine, – obviously – Lorna, Prince Liam, and two children; tired children who were asleep on a bench while Celestine looked them over.

There was a roll of bloody bandages on the floor by Lorna, but she had already been healed, gesticulating with both hands as she spoke with her father.

"I was told there were injuries?" I said sarcastically, gesturing at Celestine. "Good day, Your Highness."

"There were." Darius said, his posture relaxed as he leaned into his simple chair. It was better than he had looked since Lorna left. "But that is not why you were summoned, Lorna felt you needed to hear the news personally."

Lorna nodded, only to pause and stifle a yawn. "Sorry, it was a long flight. Had to follow the coast, and then get the kids to a healer..." She shook her head and smiled. "Made it in the end, which is what matters. The expedition was getting ready to leave when I arrived, they hadn't had the news but a small flotilla of elven destroyers had cut along the coast all the way from Silvermoon with a host of Wildhammer dwarves, linked up with the remains of Lordaeron's Lake Fleet, a number of Dalaran's purple sails, and joined them. They were already preparing to leave when I got there."

"Every single ship was crammed full, and even then they didn't have space. These two were orphans, Gilnean orphans from Pyrewood, that I picked up on the way back. Couldn't just leave them." She closed her eyes, her head falling to rest on Prince Liam's arm. "Wish I could've done more. Know how you feel now, Gwen."

I moved forward and placed a hand on her knee. "Then let me repeat what you told me months ago: You're allowed to take a break sometimes," my lips quirked up as I paused for a moment, "Gwen."

She cracked an eye open to stare at me, then snorted and shook her head. "Yes, you can. Sometimes you really need to. You better not've gotten Vivi more worried, and you can–" A yawn cut off her words. "Ah. Mmm... be sure I... I'll talk to her and ask."

"I think it best if you sleep now, Lor'." Prince Liam said softly, gently supporting her back as she leaned against him more heavily. He looked up at me. "Lady Crowley's room was appropriated in her absence, and rather than placing her in a tent, she suggested that she share with you until accommodations can be made."

"Which was another reason you were called for." Darius grumbled. "You sent my daughter on her mission, you will see her safe while she recovers from it."

"Of course." I said without hesitation. "It's noting I'm not used to."

It wasn't an imposition at all, Lorna was very much someone I cared about and it wasn't like we hadn't shared sleeping quarters for years. Even before our months-long 'road trip' during the Harvest Miracle, she'd had me in her room as much as my own before my home was built.

Part of why I grew so enamoured with her back then. She didn't instinctively cuddle in her sleep like Heather did, but she was quite happy to share a bed with a friend and talk into the late hours of the night.

"I assume you have their health well in hand, Celestine?"

She shot me a short glare. "Who do you take me for?" She shook her head. "Just make sure the gryphon’s fine, treating it like a horse only got me confused."

I already had, but I nodded anyway. Trix had him well in hand.

"Shall I assist you in bringing her to your chambers?" Prince Liam asked.

For a moment I tilted my head. It was improper, technically, and there wasn't going to be any real issue; I slept with Trix anyway and she would be plenty of help. But, Darius, out of sight of the prince, inclined his head ever so slightly.

He approved. He wanted to encourage the two of them, and... I think it went beyond just the fact they were good together.

"Sure, she's just a little," I held my fingers just the tiniest bit apart, "bit bigger than me."

"Just a tad." Prince Liam said, his eyes flicking to Lorna's bountiful bosom. Not that mine hadn't either, they really were marvellous.

-oOoOo-

"Priest! We need a healer! The spiders got him! Where's the priest?!" A soldier yelled, barging past the medics and nurses outside the third hospital room with a bleeding man draped over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide with panic, and with her side coated red with blood – his and hers, from a variety of wounds – it was clear she wasn't listening to instructions to let the medics see him. "Light, hurry!"

Before she had even finished yelling I had thrown enough healing his way to staunch the puncture wound in his side; the addition of gargoyles and crypt fiends since Lorna's return had steadily caused casualties to mount.

Those that were fortunate enough to live through their encounters, and not be pulled from the wall and dropped into the throng of undead at the wall's base, had a more than good chance of survival. We lost less than one in fifty if they didn't immediately die, and that cut down to near nothing if they reached the medical tents; the alchemists were working wonders at keeping everyone alive long enough for some healer, be it a witch, or a priest to see them.

"Get her in a bed, she's injured too." I ordered, and some of the burlier nurses – soldiers off rotation from the top of the wall with enough first aid training to tie a bandage, really – moved to handle the panicked solder.

She resisted; most of them did when they were afraid for their friends. "You don't– Fred, he needs a priest!"

"He'll be seen to, but we can't lose you either." Dominick said, gently, but forcefully, taking the man from her. "Witch Arevin is a very good healer and he'll be right as rain."

"No–! He's a devout–"

"Miss–"

I tuned out the rant and refocused on the more severe wounds I was healing. I'd get to him soon enough; crypt fields hurt with their vicious claws that could shred through mail, they utilised remarkably dangerous insects to strike at range, and then there were the webs.

Gargoyles might be striking beyond the wall at times, but they weren't causing anywhere near as many losses as the spiders that sprinted up its length en-mass and dragged people back below.

"Your leg's good. Eat well and rest tonight, you'll be free to leave in the morning." I said, standing up from my seat "Try not to kick the giant spider people in the face next time, they can bite."

My patient grinned. "Sure can, but I won that competition."

Deciding to intentionally misinterpret him, I wrinkled my nose in faux disgust. "Please don't bite the undead, you don't want to know where they've been."

That got him, and a few others laughing. Something we all needed with the horrors we were facing.

-oOoOo-

Two weeks of the Scourge battering themselves against the wall, two weeks of a tireless undead assault. The attacks hadn't stopped for a single moment, but the rhythm of the assaults was something we had grown used to and schedules were changed to accommodate them; the dawn and dusk surges no longer struck when shifts were changing.

Now, during the midday lull, on a day of good sun when the cannons had an easier time spotting their targets and defending the wall, a meeting had been called.

"I have spoken with Archmage Dawnweaver briefly, before our spell was interrupted." Archmage Arugal said, selecting the so far unused frost wyrm figures from the table and moving them to a cloth marked Dalaran. "He has affirmed that Dalaran still stands, fighting a constant battle against the incursions of frost wyrms which whittle away at the defences empowering Archmage Antonidas' ritual. Prince Arthas and the lich Kel'thuzad have both had their presence confirmed as well."

"The weight of the Scourge is split, divided as we are, but for how much longer?" Prince Liam said, looking at his father pointedly. "As if the gargoyles weren't enough, we would face dragons should they turn to us."

"A grave threat, but the proud soldiers of Gilneas stand strong." Magroth stated calmly, having only recently returned from his ongoing hunt for cultists. "No matter the ceaseless nature of the Scourge they feel assured of their security, and the populace are glad of our efforts to keep them safe. Many have begun tracing sickness of their own initiative, which was of great aid to my efforts."

Darius frowned as he looked over a report. "The men may hold strong, but my present concern is for how long we can sustain this level of firepower."

"Did you fail to create adequate stores of powder and shot, Crowley?" Godfrey said, sneering at him over his glasses. "I can provide an additional supply if it is necessary."

"No." Darius laid down the report, taking a number of cannon from the model of the wall. "The barrels of our cannon are wearing out, they were not designed for this level of sustained fire. Added to the losses from the crypt fiends and we are down one-sixth of our capacity."

I nodded with a grimace; the crypt fiends had taken to webbing cannons together and leaving a longer rope line to the bottom, where abominations would use brute force to pull them from the wall.

The casualties they had been inflicting before had hurt, but we'd had the men to replace them. The wall was large, and the fighting spread out across its length, but the bulk of their forces remained concentrated at the gate, in the natural funnel that had made the Northgate Region so important.

"Matters are not helped by the gargoyles targeting the cranes for lifting new cannon," Darius continued, "we have replacements but we cannot get them into place."

"Internal elevators for secure movement of materials..." I mumbled, looking at the tower we were in and trying to figure out the dimensions of such a thing. It would fit... but not in this tower, with the gate controls taking up much of its interior. "They'd be very useful right about now."

"An oversight." Genn agreed, frowning as he mulled at his chin. "But not one easily rectified. Instead, we must push them back. Supplies have been prepared for repair work, and as my son has said, we do not know when Dalaran's distraction shall cease and they will turn to attempt to break us. The wall must be fit to withstand them."

"How sure are we that Dalaran will not win?" Baron Ashbury asked.

"If you think they are about to run out of bodies to throw at them, you do not understand the Scourge at all." I said snidely, shooting him a disparaging glare. "How many millions lived in Lordaeron? How many of that number died? And of that, how many now serve our enemies as corpses? Thousands not a hundred feet from here, tens of thousands even. They aren't going to run out of troops." I shook my head. "This wasn't just the prince turning and going mad, this was a premeditated war where him turning coat was merely the opening gambit. The Scourge was prepared."

"As are we." Genn said, standing tall. "Dalaran is their goal, the reason for their efforts. Killing King Terenas sent the Alliance into chaos, then destroying the elves removed their oldest ally, and now they pin us in place while they siege the city of magic."

Magroth leaned on his hammer, the wooden floor creaking under the weight of the great mace and his armour. "Then, would it not be prudent to stymie their plans and aid Dalaran?"

"Perhaps if we had done so sooner much of this tragedy could have been avoided." Prince Liam said calmly, his eyes fixed on his father.

Genn's moustache twitched and his eyes tensed, but he was too experienced a noble to allow his emotions to rule his face. "I will not waste Gilnean lives on a city that would throw my people to the howling undead," he spat. "No, we shall not shed a single drop of Gilnean blood for the mages of Dalaran. The wall will hold strong so long as there are Gilneans to guard it. Godfrey, how stands the army in readiness? Could we sally out to give time to repair the wall?"

My hands tensed and I gritted my teeth; that was what pushed us towards the worgen. What had made them necessary. But...

"Within a few days." Godfrey answered confidently. "The men are eager for a fight, there is only so long a man can enjoy defensive engagements before he wishes to trade blows with a proper foe."

Lorna's eyes met mine for a moment, and she turned to the king. "There must be better options," she said, "facing the Scourge on the field will play to their advantages."

"It's stupid is what it is." I muttered under my breath.

The king's botched sally was why he had to turn to Archmage Arugal and his solution, unleashing the worgen to make up for the loss – and subsequent turning – of most of Gilneas' army in an ill-fated attempt to relieve the wall. Looking at the archmage, I felt confusion welling up; he had only come here after Dalaran fell...

But that had happened much, much faster than it was now. Two weeks since the attacks started in earnest, three weeks since Arugal arrived, a few extra days for travel; Dalaran had been under siege for most of a month.

They were holding, holding better than what I knew, but why?

"Do you wish to repeat that, witch?" Godfrey said coldly, making clear I hadn't spoken quietly enough. "I did say we should have demanded a proper replacement for the 'speaker' rather than the girl. Tired from healing or not, it was an insult."

"Who would you have instead?" Archmage Arugal asked with a raised brow. "A different witch who is well respected and understands noble custom? Some other witch who has contributed more than any other singular individual to the function of the wall over the last months?" He shook his head chidingly, as if looking at a child who had been naughty. "While her words were ill-said, I must agree with them. Your wall is our greatest asset, Your Majesty, and while it must be protected, we must continue to use it to protect us from the foul depredations of their necromancers."

Godfrey scoffed. "Do you have no faith in Gilnean steel, mage? It has kept you safe this long.”

"Take your turn on the wall like my father, Godfrey." Lorna hissed at him fiercely. Ever since she had returned from her trip, where she rescued two children atop Donovan, she had been furious with those that had allowed people to die beyond the wall. "Then you have the right to place faith in Gilnean steel. Brave men lose their lives each day–"

"It is thanks to my efforts that we have those men, you mewling girl!"

"A lord sets an example, he does not–"

"Enough!" Genn snapped, cutting the two short. He turned back to me. "You were offered a place in this meeting to speak, so, girl, speak. If you believe a sally stupid what alternative do you offer me?"

"Something akin to their weather working during the Harvest Miracle." Prince Liam suggested, undercutting his father. "They have already proven capable of large-scale effects with the thorn wall, and a great storm would remove the gargoyles from play–"

"And with it we can call lightning down upon them." I finished for him, and the prince nodded at me.

It could work. While a winter storm wasn't normally thunderous, winter storms and blizzards were common enough. The difficulty would be assigning enough witches to the task without removing them from other essential roles.

"While I have my own thoughts as to how we might alleviate our strained defences," Archmage Arugal said, the words sending a shiver down my spine as I thought of the worgen, "I have maps of the leyline which flows north from Gilneas. It might be tapped for such a grand working."

"Would your own mages not be suitable for such an act?" Archbishop Adam asked, his arms crossed. "All have heard the tales of Thoradin's One Hundred."

"We will certainly take part." Archmage Arugal said, considering the thought. "But while we might counter the efforts of the necromancers to prevent the witches’ ritual, the same cannot be said of the reverse." He spread his hands widely. "If you believe your priests capable of performing the task, we would gladly take up the role in defence of our homeland."

Priests, not being exactly known for their ability to counter spells before they were cast, couldn't possibly do so. I nodded to Archmage Arugal in thanks, though I felt... conflicted in doing so.

He had been continuously supportive and helpful, and while I could guess that he had been informed he had made no indication to me that he had. The fact that he was the one to unleash the worgen and, after Darius and Lorna, was my biggest supporter was deeply disconcerting.

"It still seems foolish to trust it to an unproven organisation, scarcely months old." The archbishop said.

Prince Liam raised his brow at the archbishop. "Because the Harvest Miracle was a minor working, and you did not personally witness the Flowering of the Fields outside the capital, of course."

"Hardly proof of the ability to battle the undead." Godfrey countered.

The discussion kept going for some time, arguments sent back and forth; Celestine owed me for putting me here instead of her. She had intentionally taken three night shifts in a row when she learned the time for the meeting so that she could excuse herself on grounds of exhaustion.

Touching as it was that she trusted me, it didn't mean I enjoyed it much either. The being required to take part bit, anyway; knowing what was going on was good.

Eventually the king called an end to the discussion, ready to cast his decision.

"The Order of Amber will be granted another chance to prove its worth, not merely as providers for Gilneas' people but as defenders as well." He said, as if it was a magnanimous gift he was granting us. "Should they fail... prepare the men, Godfrey. The wall must be repaired no matter the costs."

-oOoOo-

"You look very comfortable." Vivi said, propping herself up on the edge of my bed as I lay back, snuggled underneath a pile of blankets, and read a book. My free hand was stroking Tricks; my smaller hands made holding a book with just one harder in this life, but it was still doable.

I slipped a bookmark in place and turned to meet her bright red eyes. "It'd be more comfortable with you under here too." I said shamelessly.

She was very still for a moment, then her cheeks started to turn red. Otherwise, though, she didn't react.

A shame.

"So, how are you enjoying your day off?" She asked, her voice a little huskier than before. "Getting ready for the big show tomorrow?"

"It's good." I said, answering her question but still unwilling to change the topic I kept going. What was going on with me and Vivi... I didn't even know anymore. She still cared about me, that was obvious enough, but she hadn't brought the topic up and there had been so much going on that there hadn't been a chance for me to try. Well, now there was a chance. "Vivi... we do need to talk. Are we...?" I frowned, this wasn't the right way to do this.

I shifted Tricks, scratching her ears in apology, and sat up; I was trying to be as serious as I could in my sleeping shift, legs crossed and my hands on my knees, but I doubt I sold it very well.

"What are we, Vivi? Are we still... together?" I asked, that still didn't feel right. "I think... I think I know what I did wrong, if you want me to try and say it."

Vivi hesitated, glancing away awkwardly. She took a deep breath, then another, and nodded her head.

It wasn't hard to recognise the breathing exercises I'd taught her, and it was... discomforting to know she found this stressful enough to feel she needed them. I knew she used them a lot but it wasn't all the time; not outside of combat situations.

"You... you wanted to go on an adventure with me, like we planned to. To go out and see the world, together, as a pair, partners, and watch each other's backs." I had always known that, or at least I thought I did, but I hadn't really internalised just how much it meant to Vivi. "Me going to Tal'Doren for the meeting, that wasn't... important. Even though it was special because... because we'd already gone, because it was just routine. Normal. Somewhere you knew I'd be safe."

This was hard, and made even harder by my inability to read her carefully curated expression. She'd had a lot of practice hiding her feelings from her mother and I found a new reason to hate that woman for it.

Behind Vivi I saw Tricks pulling on Trix's skirt, dragging her out of the room forcefully despite the latter’s desire to remain. That fox deserved something special from me.

"In Dalaran, I wasn't." I admitted. It was true, though not physical danger, there was danger there. "You put me before yourself, and... I can't say I hate that. I would do the same in reverse." I was more important, but... what did the heart care about that? "But, in Dalaran, you couldn't keep me safe. Nor I you. But I could..."

"Keep yourself safe." Vivi breathed, a quiver of regret, remorse, and hurt flickering in her voice. "I know. It was stupid, I was mad, it hurt, and you left–"

I reached out and took her hand. "It isn't wrong that it hurt. I didn't want to hurt you, but we aren't perfect, the world isn't, and... things won't always go well for us." Bending down I kissed the top of her head, earning a pleased mumble from her. Her hair smelled wonderful.

She'd been taking care of it again, since I cleaned it up on the trip back with Calia. The difference between before and after that day was startling.

"But I tried to hurt you back." She whined after I pulled back; I wasn't sure if it was because of what she was saying or the loss of contact. "I said... I tried to–"

"You didn't follow through on your threats." I cut her off. "I didn't care about the tea, not in the way you thought I did. This is your first relationship, Vivi, you're allowed to make mistakes. But," I paused for effect, "never make those threats again. Please. They... remind me of something I would rather forget."

Vivi moved, wrapping me up in a hug and pressing her hand into my chest. I quickly moved to cradle her there, stroking her hair lovingly.

"From before?"

"Yeah."

She let out a shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said it, I'm sorry– it hurt. What you did. But I forgive you. I'm sorry for what I said, what I threatened to do if you didn't do what I wanted."

My heart bubbled with, not satisfaction, but a mixture of that and joy and... relief. "I forgive you too. We're... we can kiss and make up now?"

Giggling softly, an airy sound that made my stomach feel wobbly, Vivi lifted her head up and hovered inches away from my face for a few moments. Her breath tickled my lips and nose and we both waited for the other to make the first move– then, she did.

Her lips pressed against mine and I felt a shiver of delight run through me.

It didn't last long. "Is that comfortable spot under the covers still open?" She asked, a very nearly Cheshire smile on her face. "I want to spend my day off snuggling with my girlfriend if I can."

I let out a happy giggle, an answering smile of my own. "Of course it is." I said, lifting the covers up and shifting myself back beneath them and leaving room to spare.