InsaneJournal

“Easy, easy,” hissed Necronim to the wolf underneath him as it shifted, buckles ringing. He then leaned back to look at the others behind him: Kwaaku was still on the ground but standing next to his much larger wolf mount, Kalya was mounted and leaning forward to whisper into her wolf’s ear, and Scyllaine had a bemused expression on her face as she stroked her wolf’s fur. “Kwaa, let’s go!”

The one-eyed Tauren looked towards him then nodded and swung up onto his wolf, the big beast grunting as it took his weight. He urged it forward next to the rogue’s then and rumbled, “You’re in a hurry.”

“I’d like to get this over with.” Glowing eyes glanced around and he hissed under his breath, “Plus I’m not too fond of the looks Scy and I have been getting. Nor Kalya.”

“She’s just the same as Taemmur.”

“And how well do most take him?”

Kwaaku snorted. “Fair enough.”

“Nec,” said Caren softly as she came up to them with Taemmur behind her. He leaned down slightly towards her and they clasped hands, hers glowing slightly as she murmured, “Earth Mother be with you, my friend. And keep your head.”

“I intend to keep that for a good few more decades,” he assured. Then he looked beyond her at Taemmur, saying, “Keep to your studies, lad. And make sure Resden doesn’t do anything stupid.”

The youth laughed and nodded, saying, “I will.”

Necronim smiled then looked behind him at the others, seeing them ready. He then snapped, “Alright, move it!” and dug his heels into his wolf’s sides. The big creature leapt forward eagerly in response with a bark, tail wagging behind them, and he heard the three of his companions pound after them.

“Be careful!” shouted Caren after them as they pounded away through the Valley of Spirits towards the second Orgrimmar entrance. “And be safe!” Kwaaku waved in response then they were out of sight and rushing across the bridge past the guards that stood watch over it, all following Necronim as he tugged his wolf off to the right.

“There’s no path this way,” observed Kalya with a frown as they came to a sudden halt.

The rogue grunted and pulled out a heavily reused scrap of hide from a saddlebag, unrolling it to reveal the lines of a map carefully sketched onto it. He laid it out across his wolf’s neck and peered down at it for a moment before nodding absently to himself.

“We follow the river north,” he said. Shifting slightly, he pointed to the cliffs at the opposite side of the river ahead of them, saying, “That’s Azshara there but the bridge that leads to it is some distance ahead. I don’t trust the roads in Ashenvale so we’ll ride along the river until we reach the lumber camp. After we go through it, the bridge shouldn’t be that far away.”

Kwaaku nodded and peered ahead of them, his single eye narrowed. He fingered the silver claws dangling from a thong on his belt for a moment then snorted.

“What then?” he asked quietly.

“We ride into Azshara and head for Valormok.” Necronim glanced behind over his shoulder at Scyllaine, who smiled. “After that, Scy will take the lead. It should be a two day ride – we’ll made camp near the bridge on the Azshara side.”

He rolled up the map again then and tucked it back into the saddlebag, pulling out a sheathed dagger then. Leaning over, he grabbed Kalya’s hand and thrust the blade into it, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She blinked and muttered, “I…I don’t know how to fight though.”

“I’ll teach you,” replied Necronim. Then he picked up his wolf’s reins again and urged it forward slowly, carefully moving along the edge of the river. Scyllaine followed immediately behind him, humming happily to herself, leaving the others to follow behind. Kalya stared down at the sheathed dagger then tucked it into the tough leather tunic she wore over a pale rough-spun shirt before urging her wolf after the female Forsaken’s. Kwaaku grunted and took up the position at the back of the line as they made their way forward.

Giant spiders and bears passed them by without seeming to notice them and their progress was going well. In two hours they reached the lumber camp and Necronim proved quickly to them that he was well in his right mind by speaking quickly to a guard in Orcish. The orc grunted and grimaced up at him then nodded, motioning for them to move on. Necronim bowed in his saddle, thumping one fist to his wasted chest, then nudged his wolf back into motion with the others following behind.

Through the lumber camp they moved easily and were on the other side and continuing on. Another three hours of carefully moving through the forests of Ashenvale had them arriving at the bridge but Necronim urged them back into the woods immediately. As he sent his wolf leaping back into the trees and hushed it to stillness, the pounding of hooves along the road came to all their ears.

Kalya ducked her head to peer through a few branches and watched as three riders came to a halt, eyes widening at the sight of them. They rode the shattered frames of horses scarred by the Plague but the riders were not Forsaken nor Scourge. The only thing that set them apart from a perfectly normal human was their pale skin, dimly glowing red eyes, and the savage grace in which they sat their horses.

The leader’s head snapped around and he growled, blue tinged lips drawing back from teeth as black as pitch. Kwaaku laid a hand reassuringly on Kalya’s shoulder as Necronim slowly drew his daggers from their sheaths. He shifted so his boots were clear of the saddle and was abruptly still, his wasted body tense as a whipcord as he focused his glowing gaze on the trio.

Another of the trio hissed, sniffing the air, and snarled something to the leader in a dark, vicious tongue that raked across the ears like a rough brush. The moment Necronim and Scyllaine heard it they both whipped back in their saddles with expressions of shock on their faces. Her hands flowing into a slow, smooth motion, Scy jerked her head towards the area of the forest where they had just come. Necronim shook his head slowly in response, eyes never straying from the trio in the road.

The third of the pair snapped at the other two and they growled before jerking their mounts back towards the bridge from where they’d turned towards the group’s hiding place. In that same garish tongue, the leader hissed what might have been an order then they were gone, the hooves of their wasted mounts clattering across the bridge.

Several long moments passed then Necronim slowly sheathed his blades and urged his wolf forward into the road. His eyes stared hard after the trio, the sunken planes of his cheeks seeming more hollow than usual.

“Nec?” queried Kwaaku as he leaned forward to calm his great wolf’s nervous shaking with a gentle pat. “What were they?”

Scy babbled something, not even bothering with hand motions. It was evident enough what she was trying to say as the anger and fear was just as sure in her voice as the tenseness of her body.

Necronim glanced aside at her then growled, “I think I have some idea of what they were. Do you recall the new Plague that was being bred in the Undercity?”

“Unfortunately,” replied the big Tauren.

Kalya’s eyes widened then and she gasped, “They were…they…”

“They were what that Plague spawned, I believe,” replied Necronim. “They have to be. That…that thing they created was so much different than the first. But it wasn’t finished…”

“So what are they?” asked Kwaaku. “Forsaken?”

Scyllaine snarled and the rogue shook his head.

“They spoke in the Scourge tongue, so no, they aren’t Forsaken. I’m not sure what they were but I know they aren’t friendly. Likely…likely they’re even allied with whatever or whoever caused this disaster to happen.”

Necronim sighed, rubbed the heel of one gloved hand against his cheek, and continued, “Whatever they are, they are very dangerous. And ahead of us now so we’ll have to tread carefully.”

Beside him, Scy’s hands flew and he nodded.

“Yes, you and Kwaa get in the back now,” he said. “Kalya…”

“Yes?” she replied, voice quivering slightly with sudden fear of that trio of pale riders. Her eyes caught Necronim’s and a little of the fear faded away at the steel in them, the determination to protect her no matter what.

“Ride at my flank,” he said in a slightly lowered voice. “Stay as close as you can, alright?”

“I will,” she swore. He smiled tightly in response then looked up at the sky before snapping, “We’ll make camp here. Better to ride through the wilderness in the daylight than at night when you can’t see.”

Kwaaku grunted as he swung down from his saddle. “You can,” he rumbled as he led his wolf back into the forest.

Necronim replied, “You and Kalya can’t. So we camp.” Jumping down from the saddle, he handed his reins to Scyllaine, then said, “Get back into forest. I’m going to go across the bridge and see where their tracks go towards then be right back.”

The Forsaken woman nodded and moved away, leading his mount after her. Kalya bit her lip then followed her, murmuring, “Be careful.”

He gave her that strange smile of his that wasn’t a smile then loped off with hands gripping his daggers. On the other side of the bridge he dropped low to the ground, eyes darting constantly around himself as he continued to move forward. Very clearly outlined in the dirt of the road where the hoof prints of the trio’s mounts and he reached out to touch them. Following the line of prints with his eyes, he hissed angrily as they veered off ahead in the road and went towards the left.

Towards Valormok and the mage Scyllaine knew.

“Damnit,” he cursed, brushing his hair angrily back.

Whoever that trio was, they were ahead of them and seemingly on the same path. Heading towards the same mage even. And much as he wanted to, they couldn’t continue on during the night. He couldn’t leave Kwaaku and Kalya on their own and they couldn’t ride through Azshara with the pair of them at night either.

Necronim growled low in his throat, the hand on the ground abruptly clenching as he felt a surge of rage filling him. A sudden feral need to kill came upon him and he slumped to the ground, hands coming up to clutch at his head. The need faded almost instantly but he knew that feeling well.

Youwill fall to me!

That voice! That same despicable voice from before!

Struggling to his feet, he hurried back across the bridge, one hand still clamped to his head. The voice had faded now and Necronim realized that Kalya was standing at the other end of the bridge, rushing towards him in the half-dark when she spotted him. He tugged her against his side with his free arm, growling, “What are you doing?”

“I was worried,” she replied. He felt her hand touch his cheek then she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Bastard talked to me again. Said I’d fall under his control. Heh. Doesn’t know me very well, now does he?”

He saw her smile in the half-dark and she nodded.

“Yes,” she murmured warmly. “Doesn’t know you at all. What’s going to happen, Saran?”

Necronim gave her a hard glance and replied, “We’re going to stop this. One way or another, Kalya, we’re going to stop this.”

Kalya stared at him then breathed, “You’re not going anywhere?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “Now let’s get to the camp.”

“Okay,” she said, leaning into his embrace for another brief second before she pulled away. Just before they walked into the circle of light from the fire that had been started, she stopped and drew out the dagger he had handed her. “Nec. You said you’d teach me to fight.”

Necronim paused next to her then nodded, saying, “I will. Would have thought your wandering warrior of a father would have done such a thing, though.”

“Women don’t fight according to my father,” spat Kalya bitterly.

He frowned then reached out to touch her hands, moving one so it gripped the hilt of the dagger solidly. Slowly, together they pulled the blade from its sheath and he spoke in a low hiss.

“Women,” he growled out, “I have found to be the most fearsome warriors in existence.”

She stared from him to the blade in their joined grasps then looked back at him.

“Teach me,” she begged softly.

Necronim nodded and began, though his ragged heart felt a bit heavy as he taught a young woman the death-dealing skills that had practically damned him to his existence in the dim light from the fire.