Scourge - 13 (Patreon)

Worgen clashed with undead with unbridled ferocity, their fangs and claws rending undead flesh from bone as they tore their way through the force that had come to press against the wall. They were fast, unbelievably swift, leaping into the trees and back again to assault abominations and crypt fiends from above.

Alongside the sallying troops, taking up temporary positions to keep the area clear, Gilneas controlled both sides of the wall for the first time in weeks.

Even now work crews were boldly directed to mend the worst of the damage to the wall's foundations from without as well as within. The ordinance platforms which bracketed the gates at a low level, as much meant for the security of customs as defence of the wall proper, were being rebuilt already after their destruction early in the siege.

The Thornwall was being shifted aside by a cadre of tired witches, giving men access to sections that had been almost breached. Heavy blocks of stone were brought out on carts meant to replace what was there.

In every aspect the worgen were serving the purpose that Arugal had intended them for, providing the respite that the Order of Amber had been meant to provide with our storm, eagerly ripping into the Scourge forces with abandon. So long as they had targets, so long as they had foes to fight, they would unleash their fury upon them.

"Finally we have them on the run." Baron Ashbury said eagerly. "Perhaps we will beat them back and show the Alliance buffoons what a real war looks like."

But I knew what came next. They were feral, when they exhausted their prey in the Scourge they would find something new to hunt.

And there was little else but us.

Though I wished to voice those thoughts, to speak openly and advise the gathered leaders of Gilneas' army, I couldn't. Against orders I lurked in my fox form within a shadow, spying out what was happening with my own eyes.

Though the wall had been under attack when the bells rang, it was scarcely an attack of the sort which had left us so hard pressed over prior weeks. When it had become apparent that even the battered defences would have been enough to handle the uncoordinated assault of ghouls and abominations, Genn had ordered this sally. And, at the same time, ordered that I serve best in the hospices.

Unneeded, unwanted, and decidedly not in the king's good graces. The protests of the danger involved in the worgen were ignored as being fear-mongering meant to retain the power of the Order of Amber.

"After the hell we have been through, it is good to see another force do the fighting for once." Lord Candren said neutrally. "And there are certainly plenty of undead for them to toy with. But are you sure you have control of them, Genn?"

"They fight our foes, and that is enough." Genn replied without a hint of doubt. "Without their aid the wall would have fallen. So long as they serve their purpose that is sufficient."

Lord Godfrey clicked his heels and urged his horse forward. "And I relish the chance to take the battle to our foes. Come, Genn, let us hunt like we did in our youth."

"Oh, capital idea, Godfrey!" Baron Ashbury laughed.

Turning away in disgust at their casual disregard for the danger, I left the shadow I lurked in and headed towards the medical quarters. Not for the reason Genn had given me, no, but to work to prevent the tragedy to come.

-oOoOo-

"Alchemist Aranas? Could I have a moment of your time?" It hadn't taken long to gather up the supplies and samples I'd kept on hand for what felt like months, everything had been prepared before I came to the wall. It wasn't as if I hadn't thought this outcome had been possible. I'd just hoped...

Well, it turned out I'd hoped a lot of things. And I still had to; if Archimonde decided to come our way, that was it.

But that wasn't worth thinking about. All of us would be as dead as Richard, snapped like twigs at his whim– and it wasn't worth thinking about.

Krennan looked up from his meal. For once I hadn't found him in one of his workshops, instead, he was taking an actual break and eating properly in one of the barracks. "Hmm. This is serious, isn't it?"

The book which had allowed Arugal to be both our salvation and doom felt like a leaden weight in my hand. "Yes. Yes it is. Can we go somewhere private?"

He looked back down at his food. "I would rather eat, if you don't mind. But please, I'm all ears. Figuratively, that is."

Holding back a sigh, I took an open chair and sat at the table. I could probably do with a meal as well, but I normally ate lunch with Heather and my students, Trix and... I just didn't have the stomach for it. Not now. "What do you know about the worgen?"

"Beyond that Archmage Arugal summoned them to combat the Scourge yesterday morn?" He asked with curious lilt. "Little, mostly a few stories; Grandma Wahl used to tell us boys stories about the wolfmen that would come from deep within the forest, spiriting away those that stayed out late when the Lady was full. Always showed off scars from a rather bad bite she had for emphasis too."

"That's... not wrong, per se." I allowed carefully. The name was familiar, very distantly but there was something... a cat? No, the only house cat I remembered properly was Mr. Bigglesworth. "The worgen are wolfen hominids, standing much taller than a man but hunched over with the fur, muzzle, fangs, and claws of a wolf."

He laid down his knife and fork. "That isn't all of it."

I opened the Book of Ur to the right pages, something to give a little backing to my words. "The descriptions of the worgen in this book are... accurate, to a degree. But Ur was mistaken in parts." I explained, passing the book to him. "They did not reside in a separate realm, but a prison anchored to one tied to our own. I know it as the Emerald Dream, or just the Dream; the prison itself... is something I've seen. Personally."

"So you are quite familiar with the creatures then." He ran a finger along the page, keeping his place as he kept eating. "This Ur is quite wary of the worgen, isn't he?"

"Yes, though I don't think Arugal took the warnings seriously."

Krennan hummed as he turned the page, quickly skimming through. "Wolfsbane, how... fitting. Though perhaps there is a reason for that."

I let out a half-hearted laugh. "Yes, maybe. I mean, their prison was put here... nine thousand years ago? Thereabouts."

"'Here', you say."

We had started to attract some attention, I could hear a few people mentioning me and even some whispering thanks to my aid yesterday. I shifted awkwardly in my seat; I really wished we weren't in public for this, hearing me get called the Speaker of Stars for my spell yesterday was one thing, but it would be so much easier if I could be plain with Krennan.

Figuring out if Genn had confided in him, or someone else had, about my knowledge of the future wasn't something I knew how to do without being blatant. And though it wasn't a secret anymore... I didn't want it to be common knowledge.

Even so, I didn't like lying or misleading people much. Honesty was always preferable, especially with people I respected; not only that it was just easier.

Clasping my hands in front of me, I nodded, though I found it hard to meet his gaze. "The Blackwald. The Fox was present before it was put in place, though he was... dormant for reasons I won't speak of without permission."

"Far be it for us to force you to go against your deity, Witch Arevin.” Archmage Arugal said calmly from behind me, making me jump out of my skin. "Or is it perhaps Speaker Arevin now?"

"Archmage!" I yelped, barely keeping myself from toppling out of my chair. "You– ah–"

"The Spellwaker’s copy, I presume?" He asked, reaching out and taking the Book of Ur. "I tried to bargain it from them for a number of years, but old Lottie has... something of a grudge against me. We had a bet, you see, on who would make archmage first. I was perhaps less than polite when celebrating my victory." He shook his head slowly. "The follies of youth, I am afraid. We all succumb."

"We were just discussing the worgen, Archmage. And possible dangers left unaccounted for." Krennan said politely. "You are welcome to join us."

"Ah, yes..." I couldn't exactly say no, and... he wasn't an enemy. He wasn't the crazed man in Shadowfang Keep, not yet. "Please."

Archmage Arugal held up his free hand, sketching a series of glowing sigils into the air as he chanted softly in Thalassian; the spell scattered around the table, and the clamour of the eating hall dimmed and deadened into silence. "We have privacy now if you wish to speak more freely." Archmage Arugal said as he pulled a chair and sat. "

"On my own part, a morsel of honesty to begin: My instructions from the council were, suffice to say, surprising. To be bid listen and heed the advise of a girl less than half my age is not an order one is inclined to take seriously."

"Uh," his veil was proving quite frustrating right now, besides him looking down at the table I had no idea what he was doing.

"The actions of the council going forward, the fiction which came uncomfortably close to reality, made clear how serious they were in time. Now, hearing Genn's words on your foresight, admitting it in your own words..." He raised his head and leaned forward, coming much too close with his bright yellow eyes. "I must ask, how far does my folly go?"

Krennan coughed lightly. "You are unnerving her, Archmage."

"My apologies." Archmage Arugal leaned back slowly. "But I must know."

"You consider them a... folly?" I asked, my confusion rising with every passing moment. "Already?"

The archmage hesitated, holding still for several moments in silence, then sighed heavily. A stiffness I hadn't realised he had been carrying fell away from his shoulders. "As ever, it is difficult to accept one's failings. In my experimentation, I could claim dominion over the worgen. One, a pair, even a dozen; it was all so simple that I assumed if I increased their numbers, the difficulty would be a matter of degrees."

Lifting his hat off his head, he laid it on the table, then undid the veil he always wore. It revealed a rather... plain, entirely mundane-looking man. "In that, I was wrong. I have lost control and they are multiplying by means I do not understand."

"The king–" Krennan said, pushing his chair back.

"Is already aware. And yet, they obey orders, accept direction, they listen..." Archmage Arugal rested his head in his hands. "Simply not to the magic that should bind them. The king believes that they are a weapon with which to destroy the Scourge and I fear he sees the moment of victory, this chance at revenge, as more vital than preparing for the possibility of failure."

Looking at Krennan, it was clear he was still of half a mind to rush off and inform the king of what Arugal had said. "I heard him, at the wall. 'They fight our foes, and that is enough.' He knows but doesn't care. Maybe..." I pulled ingredients out of my bag. "If he knew everything... but he is not well disposed to me at the moment."

Archmage Arugal snorted. "That is putting it lightly."

"Perhaps." Krennan said softly, returning to his seat. "It would not do to be ill-informed. There is no immediate danger?"

"Not until they run out of prey." I answered, though in truth I couldn't be sure. It hadn't been immediate, there had been enough time to gain a false sense of security. But I didn't know how long, how much the Scourge had to be thinned out. "Moonleaf and Wolfsbane, two of the plants which–"

Frowning, I froze as I put the samples on the table. "Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. To begin, the most important thing to understand about the worgen is that they are not a race or species, they are a curse..."

It was far, far easier to handle the explanation without having to couch it with sources of information I could actually provide. There were still parts I had trouble with, when I got to explaining what they did, what they would do, I found myself trembling. Anxiety building and fear running through me.

Not so much it stopped me, or even slowed me down much, but I was dreading this. I was dreading the worgen, the possible civil war, the continuation of war.

Just yesterday I had come so close to dying, to watching everything I'd done fall apart. I had to work past it– I'd done it with the gnoll, the hurt I'd received had echoed in my head for months no matter how well I healed where I'd been injured.

As I finished my explanation of the worgen and their origins, Krennan rubbed at his chin. "What I don't understand is why you came to me. Of course, I dabble in arcane concoctions at times; the most effective curatives all have some magical ingredients in them." He shook his head. "But a curse? I have never had the opportunity."

"It is quite simple, Alchemist Aranas." Archmage Arugal said with a light smile. "She does not simply believe you capable of creating a cure, she has seen it happen."

-oOoOo-

Whether or not I wanted to defy the king's orders entirely and set myself as part of the efforts to develop a cure, once I had exhausted my ideas I had little more to go on. I'd had years to think on things and, while using Lord Renard or the Blue Child to fight the curse were possibilities, they weren't ones we could test until we had victims to test upon.

Once again, human experimentation reared its ugly and necessary head. What choice was there, but to cage those afflicted like feral beasts and try desperately to restore their humanity?

"At least this time there's actual hope." I muttered, rinsing off my hands of blood from one of the wounded from yesterday.

Medical work was still rewarding, even if it wasn't the all-important research we needed to pursue. Though I could have done without having to help dig out lead shot from men's insides; just keeping the wound from getting worse without closing it was messy enough that I was really glad I didn't have to be the one reaching inside.

Squeamish or not, that was just disquieting.

The fact that the soldier had been so thoroughly numbed he was watching and making sarcastic commentary the entire time hadn't helped me much either. Not that I could begrudge him for it, I hadn't been the one getting my spleen fondled.

"You're starting to flag." Chirurgeon Edward said, giving me a once over. "Take a breather and go get a drink, kiss your lad, or just sit under a tree and plant some flowers or something. Can't go having you collapse on us. Too many people owe you their lives for that."

I opened my mouth to protest briefly, I was here, I was helping, but stopped myself. "Yell if there's an emergency." I said instead. "Thanks."

"We'll manage, did for decades." He waved his hand. "Besides, you're not the only one we've got."

"I can handle it!" Trix yelled from beside Emma, only to get elbowed in the gut for shouting while people were resting. "Ow, hey!"

Letting out a light laugh, I waved and left them to it. The Chirugeon wasn't wrong when he said I was flagging, so much better than yesterday but it still burned a little. I'd need to do better, pace myself, and find ways to do what I did more safely.

A bloody starfall.

So many things I had to work on, and it never felt like I had the time. I needed to be more powerful, I needed to prepare for the future, I needed to convince people of what was coming, I needed to...

At least part of it was going well. Though walking along the training fields, past the monument that had come out of Detheroc's corpse, I saw something that reminded me with a punch to the gut that it wasn't without sacrifice. It could never be without sacrifice.

Kneeling down beside Heather I looked upon the flower over Richard's grave. What could I say? What could I do?

"He should never have been here." She hissed at me, her nails digging into the dirt. "How can you just accept what happened? Where have you been? Why haven't you–!" She bit down on her cheek and turned away. "Richard deserves a proper burial. Not this."

"War is no place for children." I agreed softly, tears pricking at my eyes. She was right that he deserved better. Thousands of people deserved better. "I didn't want them here, I didn't want any of them here. If I could I would send Trix home, send Emma and Rosaline back to Keel, keep them safe and far away from the horrors of this war."

But I wasn't the one in charge, and Celestine didn't have my attitude towards children. Heather was, like me, in the minority. They were apprentices, they were witches, they were... old enough.

Childhood ended early though adulthood came late.

Perhaps I should be glad there was at least no talk of seeing Trix married at her age, though it seemed a hollow and empty thing to care for considering what she had been through. I could hardly argue she hadn't shouldered responsibilities beyond that of a child and shown herself as mature as many of the men and women who we depended upon to hold the wall.

"I don't want to talk to you." She snapped. "I don't want to see you. I don’t– just, just go away, Gwen. Leave me alone."

The words hit me like a truck, leaving me shaking slightly as I stood. "Okay." There was nothing I could say, I couldn't bring him back. If it was even possible I had no idea how.

Edward's suggestion of kissing my 'boy', my tomboy, seemed rather good right now. Maybe it would even stop me from crying.

-oOoOo-

Day by day the Scourge were pushed further from the wall, battle lines redrawn as forward camps were established and land was reclaimed. The attitude amongst the men, those in charge, was clearly that they were taking revenge for those lost in the defence of the wall.

Each village retaken, each group of terrified civilians who had hidden deep within the marsh rescued, each torn apart abomination a victory showing that Gilneas was not solely trapped on the defensive.

It wasn't hard to understand their eagerness, and seeing their progress for myself from the air showed just how far they'd gotten. Seeing Turin's Clearing again, the village I'd created the first of my grave groves in, had been a reminder of what had been lost.

Of what we had given up, and what our people wanted so desperately to reclaim.

I'd scarcely recognised the village. The buildings were hollowed-out wrecks, desiccated and rotting in ways they should not, and the trees in the green... had been torn from the ground, ripped about by sharp claws, and great gouges rent the earth where they had stood.

In the end, the graves hadn't been enough. Though the strewn and broken roots told of how dearly the trees guarded their charges, they succumbed in the end.

All that was left was another ruined village filled with the stench of Death and lurking foes to be slain.

With that in mind, my return over the wall and glide down towards Lorna's window was one which left me feeling disappointed. The thought of flying over so much of that to reach Silverlaine Keep, as I had briefly considered, was... not something I felt comfortable doing.

Even if the Scourge ignored a raven entirely I was afraid, pointlessly and stupidly afraid, of what I would see along the way and what it would do to me.

I tapped my beak against Lorna's shutters until I heard movement within, hopping inside into the warmth and out of the gentle snowfall eagerly as soon as they opened. As she had the only personal room out of those I trusted with my transformations, it was where I was using to shift back and forth in secret – it was easy enough to find an excuse to speak with my liege lord's heir if anyone asked, after all.

But this time that didn't seem to be an option.

"A message, Lorna?" Liam asked, shuttering the windows behind me. "I don't suppose I could interpose on your correspondence to add my own? I would like to speak with Mother and Tess of my experiences here. I find myself–"

"Not really possible, Liam." Lorna shook her head with an amused little grin. "Gwen, you can change back now." She scratched at my head before setting me down on her desk.

I squawked at her indignantly. Her beau or not, she didn't get to out me like that!

Liam looked at me with a raised brow. "Lorna, what are you...?"

She flicked a finger against my beak lightly. "He came here looking for you, you know. You need to talk to him." Her little grin widened. "I'll smother you until you can't talk straight if you don't; I know how you get."

If it was possible to blush as a raven, I would be doing it. Looking at the prince, at Liam Greymane... I let out a scratchy croak. He was the one who had told Genn about my future knowledge, why the Kirin Tor had been after me. The whole reason why I’d been verbally lambasted and kicked out of the meetings.

But, at the same time, he was the man we wanted to take the throne, the goal of the rebellion should it come about after all. And, he had publicly opposed his father over his treatment of me; the signs pointed him to being as good a man I’d hoped him to be.

And Lorna wasn’t about to let me forget that.

Thinking of how tragedy could have been averted to begin with if we’d just had a forward thinking king, someone who would look outward rather than inward, I made my decision.

Shifting back into a human, sitting on the edge of Lorna's desk – I was getting a hang of controlling my body's position when I changed back and forth – I levelled a glare her way. "Even if I should, that doesn't make it right for you to betray my secrets, Lorna."

While she didn't flinch, she did not her head in acceptance of the reprimand. "You're right, but this is important. It all is."

"Ah. My apologies, Witch Arevin." The prince said, bowing his head for a moment. "I wished..." He hesitated, clearly glancing to Lorna for support before steeling himself. "I firstly wished to apologise on behalf of the Greymane Family, if not my father, for the accusations laid against you. You have served Gilneas faithfully, prepared her defences, protected her people, fought against our foes. You have my thanks and respect."

It was a rare thing for a royal of any sort to apologise. "I only want to see my homeland prosper, Your Highness. Survive and prosper."

He looked torn, a war going on inside his head as he nodded his agreement.

"Sit, Liam. This won't happen quickly." Lorna said, taking his arm and guiding him to one of her sitting chairs. Her room was well appointed, being for a noble lady of high status, and bigger than the shoebox I shared with Trix.

Another reason I came here to transform; the window actually looked out onto more than the wall of another building.

"You're right, of course." He smiled sappily at her, and her fingers lingered on his arm longer than was strictly necessary. "As you often are."

"Flatterer." She teased back, a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

I didn't interrupt, finding the sight of Lorna blushing a fun turnaround, and a pleasant delay to the coming mess. I wanted to distract myself from the idea of him knowing one of my trump cards, like he had my foresight which reached the king, that had proven so vital to my survival against Detheroc.

If the dreadlord had known I could transform there was little doubt in my mind I would have died. He wouldn't have given me the opportunity to slip away.

Nor did the conversation to come bring me joy; whatever he chose to ask me, this conversation would not be easy – speaking ill of the king to his son, his heir... in what world could that be considered easy or even safe? And, should he ask at all, it was all but inevitable.

Liam rested his hand on Lorna's sweetly. "We should deal with the matter at hand." It took a moment for Lorna to nod and back away, her business face back on, and as she sat Liam turned to me. "I must personally apologise for my father learning of your, ah, foresight? I thought he would seek your counsel, learn what made the Kirin Tor seek you out, but instead..." He lowered his head to hide his distress. "He refused. Saying that it was your duty to come to him as a loyal Gilnean. Accepting you as Speaker Celestine's replacement in the meetings, approving your hunt for the cult in the new Northgate townships, were all he would agree to until you came to him."

How was I meant to answer that? I had mishandled Genn, Krennan had shown me that. His response to me had shown me that. But I had no belief that if I had gone to him, as I had done Darius, he would have accepted me. In truth, the only reason Darius did is because of Lorna.

Turin's Clearing was where my chance to change things in Gilneas had really begun, my meeting with Tobias – who was gone and dead and his funeral was tomorrow – and Lorna truly fortuitous.

Letting out a puff of air I closed my eyes. Honesty; Lorna trusted him deeply, but if he wanted to talk to me, then he would have to deal with me speaking the truth as I knew it. "My duty is to Gilneas, not to the king that would see it invaded and lost to its people after years of misrule and decline."

"Father has not–"

"Not now," I spoke over him and shaking my head, "not yet. The worgen push back the Scourge, until there are no Scourge to push back. Then they turn upon us, their infectious curse a plague that lingers for a decade or more. Eating us alive from within." I looked to Lorna. "Genn Greymane would seek to punish those who do not follow his word utterly, aiding the Alliance in their desperate bid to save the world; rebellion would be fermented and Gilneas torn asunder from the tension that lingers from the Greymane Wall and those lost to it."

I splayed my hands out. "He wins, holding strong. Until such a time as a new enemy comes knocking. Beset from without by those he wronged raised in undeath, free-willed undeath, and his mistakes from within, Gilneas slowly crumbles." Liam's eyes widened in mute horror as I spoke, but I met them firmly now. "Only your death, your choice to die for him and pleading in his arms would change his course. Too little, too late, and Gilneas is lost to us."

"No..."

"That is why I did not go to Genn Greymane." I spat, finding myself shaking with fury over the thought of what he brought my country, my home to in the end. "Could he change? Could he be different? Perhaps. But what I knew said otherwise."

Changing Genn into a better king would have been a wonderful thing. Giving advise for the future, for what I knew of industrialisation and modernisation to catapult our kingdom forward. Railroads, canals, universities, ironclad ships... all things I could have steered us towards, that we had the knowledge base to build if the funding was available.

We could have become the workshop of the world, arming the Alliance against the dangers that lurked in the distance. Crushed the Scourge when it came with a unified front, raised ourselves up as the second power in the Alliance.

But that was little more than a dream. "Things could have gone so differently had I gone to him and he listened. But, as I learned in Dalaran, what reason do those with power have to listen to me? To a childish little girl?" The bitterness was still there. "I won Darius' trust across years. I had Lorna's faith and friendship. I abused that to get close to him. I made due with what I had, Your Highness, dreams of a better world are just that. Dreams."

Lorna stood and walked over to me, putting an arm around me. "I forgave you for that. You did it with good reason."

"And I will forgive you for this, Lorna." I told her quietly. "Just... not yet."

Having my secret torn from me still stung. Forcing this conversation on me still stung.

"I see that I have much to think on." Prince Liam said, his eyes downcast. "I... I swear on my right as a Greymane, on the honour of my family, I shall not betray your trust." He breathed deeply. "Unless I believe you a threat to Gilneas and not merely the Greymanes, I shall keep your secrets, Gwyn– Gwen."

He held out a hand to me. "One day, I hope that you find your faith in my family renewed. Tess... Tess asks after you, wishing to see the star-wolf once more." He smiled. "And her friend, your apprentice."

"Trix would be horrified." I shook his hand; there was... no reason not to. "She has developed a phobia of royalty after her experience." I let my smile fade away. "Be a better king than your father one day, Your Highness. That is all I ask."