At least now I know this isn't normal Sin'dorei family life, Belida thought, as she guided her wyvern to follow the three blood elves over the glaciered valley.
She'd been nearly ready to up and leave the Sunhammers in disgust when Ria's letter had come, telling her of Devori's treachery and asking her for help. She knew the Blood Knight would need another healer along as well as an axe. She could not abandon her now.
For that matter, Ria was going to need help in the days to come.
They should never have tolerated Devori for so long. Belida felt another twinge of guilt.
The ancient Titan structure loomed ahead, dark and blocky against the sky.
The battle had been an unusually unpleasant one, even given that this was a Twilight Cult. The lair had had as many maddened elementals and twisted golems of metal and stone as it did cultists. The golems -- for Belida, those had been the worst. The magics powering the things made her almost physically ill.
Rescue had come too late for the prisoners. They'd been drained of *something* for some vile ritual or other, most likely blood, and left in this large alcove to die. Belida could hear the footsteps and rustles and armor-clinks of Ria and Dranarus going through the piles of rags that served as beds for them, while Preyor stood guard. They hadn't found Dominus.
Belida searched the "beds" on the other side of the alcove. The oldest corpse was no more than two days dead, but that was more than old enough to start stinking. The reek filled her nostrils.
The fifth victim that she uncovered was still alive.
The woman was old. Belida knew that much about humans, at least: the wrinkles on her face and the grizzled hair showed her age. Her grayed-out skin and hollowed eye sockets told the Sunwalker that she was not far from death. The injured human breathed shallowly, raggedly, eyes closed.
The torn, soiled rags of her clothing could scarcely be told from the filthy blankets. Old and new bloodstains splotched both. Beneath those stenches, she smelled like other humans: that vaguely unpleasant odor of skin oils and mold, made worse by going unwashed for weeks and being laced with the staleness of old terror.
Belida refused to wonder what had been done to her besides blood-draining. She knew too many things that Twilight Cultists did to their victims. Right then it didn't matter that she was a human, and a member of the Alliance; Belida could not have cared less.
She cast her strongest healing spell. As the power flowed from her into the woman, she heard the all-too-familiar sound of broken bones grinding into place as she cast it. She refused to let it distract her from the flow of An'she's magic passing through her, answering her call, doing what she asked of it.
She never deluded herself that she truly controlled that power. If anything, she was its servant.
When she lowered her arms and opened her eyes, the woman was breathing more easily, the stink of blood gone from her breath. A faint blush of pink colored her cheeks as she cracked open her eyes, and Belida saw that they were brown, like those of many shu'halo. They widened with fear as the woman lifted her head and saw a Tauren -- an enemy. Belida had a good idea what she saw when she looked at her: a hulking, horned Horde warrior, clad in plate armor slick with blood and less pleasant substances.
Belida schooled her expression to show only gentleness. She doubted the woman could understand Orcish, but she would try anyway.
"Don't be afraid," she said softly. "I will help." She held her bloodied hands palms upward, empty, in the common gesture of peace.
The human showed no signs of understanding what she said, but those bleary brown eyes gazed at her hands, then back at her face, and some of the fear drained out of them.
Moving slowly, Belida fumbled at her hip for the water canteen. She got it free, opened the cap, and held it to the woman's lips, inviting her to drink. She managed to lift one hand and grip the canteen, drinking long, thirsty gulps before releasing it and letting Belida take it back.
"There's a live one here," Belida called to her companions. Dranarus and Ria both looked up as Preyor turned toward her.
"Are you serious?" Preyor demanded. "You expect us to just carry them all out of here?"
"Would you leave living folk in this terrible place?" Belida fought to keep from raising her voice.
Looking over, Dranarus sighed. "It's human. I suppose we should spare it anyway."
"We'll take them," Ria said, and that settled it. "Preyor, get some of those carts."
Grumbling, Preyor went to the cultists' wooden carts lined up against one wall and began going through them, emptying the ones that still held supplies.
Belida patted the human's shoulder, and then went to help him: might as well keep the peace. Still, he didn't look at her more than he had to as they dragged, then pushed two big carts toward the beds and the bodies.
As they returned, Belida saw Ria begin to uncover another rag-wrapped lump. Suddenly, the lump surged. A hand shot up, clutching at her throat.
Belida let go of the cart and lunged to help, seizing the skinny arm. The night elf's sunken yellow eyes blazed as he fought back, snarling.
"Stop that!" Belida snapped, even as Ria pried the hand from her neck. The kaldorei was too weak to resist for long. They pinned him down and didn't let go until understanding dawned in his eyes and he let Ria tend to him.
The last bed held a male human. Belida could hear the death-rattle in his lungs, soft but definite. His eyes did not open, and his face was set in a death mask. She pulled back the ragged sheet to get a better look. His chest scarcely moved with his shallow breaths.
After a few more moments of examination, she realized that he was beyond saving. She pulled her axe from its place on her back, and plunged the spike into the man's heart. He died with hardly a twitch.
Belida returned to the woman, hoping she hadn't seen the swift mercy killing. She'd done it before and would surely have to again, but non-combatants often reacted badly to such things.
The woman had closed her eyes and wasn't moving. She hadn't seen anything. A small mercy on a night with little mercy to be had.
Judging from her clenched jaw and the faint acrid tang lingering in her scent, she was still in a lot of pain. Belida applied another healing spell. The human opened her eyes and simply accepted it, her face becoming serene as she felt the healing power wash through her.
Afterward, she looked and smelled calmer. Belida felt a little surge of hope that she would survive.
When the Sunwalker looked up, she saw Ria bent over another body. One look at her face, and she knew. She hurried over to her side.
Dominus still lived, but he looked little better than the human man. Ria refused all help; Belida watched helplessly as she poured healing spells into him but was unable to rouse him.
Finally, visibly exhausted, she gave up, and they began preparing to take away the living and the dead.
They divided the prisoners up into two carts: one for the survivors, the other one for the corpses. Belida helped Ria pile blankets and rags into the first one. They might be foul, but they could still make the splintery wooden cart more comfortable for its occupants.
Then came the delicate business of moving Dominus, the kaldorei, and the human woman into it. The kaldorei man didn't fight now; he gritted his teeth as they handled him, trying to hurt him as little as possible. The human woman couldn't restrain a whimper as they lowered her into the cart, despite their best efforts.
Dominus never moved or responded in any way. Belida doubted that his coma was purely physical.
They tucked some bits of blanket around the wounded people, covering them against Northrend's chill outside, trying to make them more comfortable. The human woman opened her eyes as Belida tended to her. She murmured a few words in Common that the Sunwalker had to strain to hear; perhaps they meant "thank you".
At the Argent Dawn camp, a weary-faced, chestnut-bearded human paladin took charge of the kaldorei and the human, as well as the cart piled high with corpses. He called over two healers, who began the slow process of carefully bundling out the wounded and transporting them to the camp infirmary. Ria had insisted upon keeping Dominus.
He turned to look at Belida, then spoke -- in Common. Belida shook her head. "I don't understand Common," she said.
He stopped, and spoke again, this time in accented but fluent Orcish. "Thank you for bringing them in, Sunwalker."
"You are welcome," Belida said. "I hope they survive."
"I won't ask what exactly your business was in there," he said. "But we could use more adventurers. We've wanted to clear out that particular scum-hole for months, but never had enough fighters."
"I will tell the Sunwalker commanders of your need," she promised.
That night, as she lay awake in the soft but too-small bed inside the Sunhammer home's guest suite, Belida worried.
Ria needs someone. And what did that sunless bastard Devori do to her? I should never have left her with him. But how could I have known? . . .
Her thoughts chased each other in circles like half-crazed squirrels, until she gave up and got up. Lighting a lamp, she sat down at the desk, prepared a piece of paper and quill and inkpot, and began to write a letter to Lethdor.
Lord Lethdor Morningshard:
I have urgent news. Today, I aided Ria Sunhammer in raiding a Twilight Cultist center to rescue her lover Dominus . . .
