It was as if time had ceased its regular speed, moving extremely slowly.
Arcanist Avarel Trueflight watched as the arrow pierced Ethalis Emberdale's skull. Her hand released the insignia she held so dear, dropping it on the man's hand. A spray of blood came in contact with his features, on which a shocked expression was plastered. In his peripheral vision, another arrow appeared, awfully close to himself. Somewhere at the back, a scream echoed amidst thumbing sounds.
The fact that he managed to snap out of it just when was what saved his life.
His hand was shot upwards, as an incantation was screamed. The rune of protection was formed quickly. Born out of nothingness in an instant, azure and violet lights embraced the Blood Elf, creating a solid shield of arcane around his body. His head snapped behind his shoulder, looking at the two guards. One was already dead, his passing as effective as Emberdale's. The other had claimed his fallen comrade's shield, using it in order to protect himself from both sides of the assaulting arrows.
"Retreat!" Avarel shouted as arrows clashed against his shield. Aware of the fact that it would not last forever, he mounted, his hawkstrider rather clumsily; the poor beind however, frightened by the shower of arrows, charged forward at the opposite direction of Gorshalach and the Horde camp, at the opposite direction of the lone guard.
"You useless creature, no!" the arcanist screamed in despair. As his shield still held, he turned with the mind to cast a spell and aid his struggling ally. But just then, as he was growing more distant, the figure of a Ren'dorei emerged by the kneeling guard from midnight blue vapours, striking him down with ease as the swing of two swords.
Terror gripped Avarel's heart. Ethalis had been followed and had now paid for that with her life. Ravenfall knew. As the arrows continued to rain from the dunes, the arcanist sought to reinforce his shield, the only thing standing between him and an instant death. The hawkstrider's speed was rather wild, since it seemed that even the animal could understand the mortal danger the two of them suffered.
They soon moved out of the range of the arrows, though not eyesight. Confident about the shield now, Avarel embraced the hawkstrider for stability with one hand, while aiming a blast towards the Ren'dorei by his fallen guard with the other. Missiles of blue and purple rushed towards the enemy, but they never connected. Dark vapours rose against, instantly consuming the Ren'dorei's form.
For a moment, nothing happened. The arcanist was left wide-eyed, wondering if that was how it had all ended, if he had been spared and allowed to live. But then he was harshly reminded of the cruelty of Ravenfall's men.
Out of nowhere, the hawkstrider staggered and fell to the ground with a scream. It rolled on the ground, ejecting the Sin'dorei rider far into the distance. Pain could be felt everywhere as his front collided with the dirt. He could very clearly feel drops running all across his body, his clothes soaked; a part of his mind still clinging to clarity at that moment was certain that it was not all sweat.
Avarel turned around groaning, only to see his pursuer running towards him. Even further behind, more Ren'dorei made their appearance from the hills and dunes with the Dark Titan's sword showered in the last rays of sunlight as a background. Shakily, the Spire official tried to stand a run, but just after a few strides, his wounded form brought him back to the ground. For once more, he looked at the charging figures, so confident that they had won. Because they had indeed.
Shaking, the Sin'dorei whimpered. His shield had flatered. Would this be the end? He had not lived a remarkable life, nor had he learnt the meaning of sacrifice. He had never put his life on the life for anyone, like Emberdale, or so many others that would often report to him. Would this be the end of a rather dull existence?
And the report? All Ethalis had given her life for? The unknown agent's treachery. Ravenfall's plans. N'Zoth. Emberdale's death. Ashfury's salvation.
It was all on him.
Avarel screamed. He could feel the arcane surge and rage within his fists - why did he fall to despair? Bright lights manifested around the mage, volatile almost. He could see in the distance the Ren'dorei leading the charge widening his eyes, ready to dash through the shadows.
Safety. Home. He would go home. The teleportation spell consumed Avarel.
It did not take him as far as he had wished.
The setting sun's last light could scarcely reach Camp Mojache through the ancient canopies of Feralas, though thanks to them, the land remained humid and warm. Fires had already begun burning in the village, carrying the tempting smell of food kissed by the flames. Dinner time was not far now.
It was during that time that Ahanu liked to cast his nets into the lake so to allow his wife to make meal preparations in peace. The two of them had lived long lives together until their fur had earned its hints of grey. Her quirks were known to him, thus he was wise enough to avoid getting in her way as she was cooking. After all, the lake was more peaceful as night was nearing. The youngsters had long abandoned their water games and the elders had collected their fish and herbs. That left little for Ahanu, but it mattered not as long as he could enjoy the moment in peace.
The old Tauren adjusted his long pipe against his lips and, while humming a low tune his mother had taught him so long ago, cast his nets into the water. As they reached the still surface, Ahanu sighed contently. Nothing could disturb such a beautiful moment.
How wrong he was.
A flash of azure suddenly appeared beneath the water, coming from somewhere just above the bottom of the lake. The bright lights shot beyond the somewhat murky surface, before gradually fading. Ahanu brought a heavy arm over his small eyes, momentarily blinded by the sight. He instinctively stepped back in fear.
Once the blue flash was no more, the old Tauren slowly lowered his arm, breathing heavily. His pipe fell on the floor, though the sound of the soft collision was muffled by slashing sounds coming from the nets. Ripples were now disturbing the lake. Something had been trapped within.
At first, Ahanu hesitated. He had seen magic in the war against the undead on the northern continent, he had been saved by azure lights such as those more times he could count. But he had also been hurt, that he could not remember. For a split second, doubt almost won. But as the struggling persisted, the Tauren reached for the nets and pulled them out of the water.
What he saw was the last thing he could have ever expected. A humanoid had been caught within - no, it had somehow made itself appear within the old man's nets. From the long shape of his ears and the green colour of his half open eyes, Ahanu managed to recognize him as a Blood Elf with ease.
The unfortunate man kept struggling with the nets in terror, while at the same time coughing and spitting out water. Without wasting a moment any longer, Ahanu tried to aid the Sin'dorei by removing the nets in which he was tangled. Even when that was done, the stranger's mind did not seem eased. He tried to stand, staggering. Able to tell what would happen next, Ahanu caught him in his large arms before he fell. It was at that moment that he noticed the wounds littering the elf's body.
The Sin'dorei seemed rather relieved as he finally saw the Tauren's face. "Horde." he sighed gently, only for his body to then spasm with a wave of urgency. "Silvermoon-... Must go home-... Danger-... Must... Warn-..."
Calmly, Ahanu offered a soft pat at the arcanist's back, before attempting to carry him in his arms rather successfully. "Easy now, my friend." he spoke with his heavy voice. "All is well. No one will harm you now. We will safely get you home."
He kept speaking those same reassuring words to the Blood Elf as he took him to Camp Mojache, unaware of the fact that his promises would indeed and rather fortunately come true.
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