They broke like a wave crashing upon the shore, overwhelming bulwarks of sand and packed earth. The men who stood against them fought the breaking tide like toy soldiers trying to stand against the pull of the water. When all had receeded, Daeyn Skysong found himself with thirty men, where moments before he had had forty-two.
"Check for wounded and clear out the dead!" the Paladin called. He reached up to his chest, where moments before the glaive of an undead soldier had grazed his armor, producing a spark and a sickening noise like a scream. Without looking, he pressed his fingers straight through a rip in the tabard of the Silver Hand that adorned his chest. Nothing for it now- he was surprised the entire thing hadn't been shorn from his body.
Skysong was now a member of a largely Human order, whom had all but deserted their Quel'dorei members... And allies. As he drew his gauntlet away from the rip, he noted with some sense of irony that the glaive had shorn almost perfectly through the middle of the hammer's head at an arc that also cut off the shaft quite cleanly. It was appropriate- the lion's head of the armor he wore shone quite cleanly through the cut.
He ripped the center of the tabard off and threw it by the wayside of the road the Undead Scourge had already begun to cut through Eversong Wood. The call that came over his shoulder distracted him, but did not tear his eyes away as the remnants of the tabard fluttered in the breeze. After slinging his hammer over his back, Daeyn turned, instead drawing the long, runed family blade and shield from his back.
The blade was long and broad, with a single edge- one was all it needed. The sheer weight of it carried it past most armor and even the dull edge was dangerous,and the runes that allowed it to channel the Light in or out of someone's body empowered his magic for anything that COULD stand a blow from the weapon. The kite shield that accompanied it was well over the size of the Paladin's torso and boasted a border of gleaming gold, with blue metalworking of his family's crest- two hawks, facing eachother, one on the left holding a flute and olive wreath in its talons, the other on the right carrying the glaive favored by the Quel'dorei spellbreakers.
Daeyn Skysong was snapped out of his admiration for the shield's handiwork by the call of a junior sergeant in one of the House guards, a young man whom, he presumed, was now his most senior officer among this group of volunteers.
"Lord Skysong," the man bellowed, reminding Daeyn rather painfully of the fact that his father, the previous Lord Skysong, had not returned from attempting to evacuate one of the Blackened Woods' southernmost villages. None of his detachment had. The poor boy's next words were even more unwelcomed than his greeting had been. "House Amil's guard captain is dead. Our own guards now make up about half of the remainder, with three from House Springsun and another handful from House Amil."
The new Lord Skysong rolled his shoulders and stared heavenward. The Blackened Wood had earned its name, now also for the great swath of destruction that ran through it as much as for its distinct lack of light. He could see the sky and the trees all well enough, but no sunlight shone through, despite the fact that they sky was clear.
The guard sergeant droned on, and Daeyn caught only something about the last caravan of evacuees being prepared to leave. The Paladin motioned weakly in the direction of the Waystation he and his volunteers had set themselves to protecting. It was the last functioning one he was aware of; at least, the last functioning one this side of the Elrendar River. Skysong's mind was elsewhere, somewhere across the river, where his wife and two little sisters-in-law resided.
Or so he thought.
Before the head of the caravan began marching through the waystation, Daeyn heard the thunderous crescendo that announced first one, then two, and finally, after several more times, a fifth -incoming- teleport. The captain of the Farstrider squadron that had situated itself back near the hastily-erected palaside proclaimed, quite loudly, "Out of the way! Make way for Lady Kavei Springsun and her priestesses! MAKE WAY!"
Daeyn's brows shot up as he first heard the name of, and then recognized, his wife. She leaned over near one of the Farstriders, who added, again very boisterously, "Bring out your sick and wounded to be checked for the Plague of Undeath! Quickly!"
He wanted to rush to her, but refrained. She had a job to do, as did he. In silence, he watched, leather-covered palm crushing against his shield's handle, as his wife made the rounds about the caravan. Finally, she came to him, shifting uncomfortably in her robes. She seemed to be waiting for something.
With an embarassed chuckle, Daeyn lifted his sword and shield away from his body, opening his arms to her in a way that wouldn't keep her out of reach or impaled, unlike his previous posture would have. Kavei flung her arms around his waist and leaned up to kiss him. It was a brief, soft gesture, but as she pulled away, he felt refreshed and somewhat more secure in her presence. For a moment, he breathed easily.
But, only for a moment. Kavei introduced her priestesses, those who could be gathered with enough haste to lend aid to the mixed unit of House guards, deserted Farstriders, and civillian militia. Of all of them, Daeyn would later remember only one name, both because he had seen her before, and because that name would later become of great importance to him.
"...And this," Kavei said, as her husband offered a nod to the last priestess, "is Marilla Duskbane." The priestess offered a nod in reply, and Daeyn chuckled.
"Perhaps you'll bring us luck, my lady. Darkness is certainly what we're facing here. Even the light of the sun has deserted us." He muttered, waving his shield broadly in the direction of the sky.
The priestess Duskbane merely offered him a small, friendly grin. Kavei replanted her staff in the ground, and turned her eyes down the Scar that cut through the Blackened Wood. In her eyes, her husband saw a look he did not recognize- one he hadn't seen before, and would never see again.
Some years later, when he re-thought the gaze she cast the evacuees immediately after averting her eyes, he realized the look was resignation. She had known their fate before he had, but in that moment, h knew only that the Scourge must be fought back, and survivors of their onslaught protected.
Just as the last of the caravan passed through the gate, Daeyn's ears perked. The sound of more hissing, moaning, and pounding feet could be heard in the distance. To one of the Farstriders, who had perched himself high in the nearest tree, off to the left of the troop of volunteers, the Paladin called "Do you see anyone else coming?"
"No!" The reply came just as quickly as the man had finished scanning through the forest with his spyglass.
Daeyn set his eyes upong the Waygate, and thought for a moment about giving the order to retreat. But, if they did, the Scourge would gain still more ground, and a crossing point to the river that now impeded their path.
He turned back to his men, and called out "Form ranks! Two deep, Farstriders take the right flank, and keep your glaives ready, they'll close distance fast! Explosive shots on the first wave!" Lord Skysong flipped his sword vertically in his hand, and moved to stand in front of the rows of tower shields and glaives that were forming behind what palasides remained.
Through the darkness of the forest, he could just make out the first pair of glowing eyes break from the treeline. Behind a wall of fetid corpses and skeletons, a row of spiders reared up, already spewing venom into the air. The House guards raised their shields reflexively, and found themselves encircled by protective barriers of the Light. Daeyn spared Kavei a knowing smirk, then set his eyes upon their rapidly-advancing foe.
"My turn," he muttered under his breath.
Then, more loudly, "FIRE!"
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It was another seven years after that day before I saw my beloved Kavei again. What happened to her, I dare not put to pen. I miss her terribly.
The young sergeat-at-arms I encountered, and fought at least twice thereafter- I know not if it was the Scourge invasion, or the destruction of our city, but in my personal opinion, the cause is irrelevent. He was driven mad. May his name be a a curse upon the earth for the things he plotted and the evil he did.
Marilla Duskbane I never saw again, and it was to be nine years after the invasion that I fully understood the impact her life had on mine. She died on the Scar, and was buried between waves of Arthas' onslaught. We buried her and the other Priestesses beneath the tree on which that young man stood, and consecrated the ground there, that they might not be raised in the service of the Lich King.
That morning, I started out with fifty of Silvermoon's finest sons and daughters under my command. Only three survived to see the city burn.
For whomever reads this, understand.. the Light of the Sun did not forsake us that day. It gave strength to the young men and women who died to save the lives of their fellow Quel'dorei. Their faith remains unshaken, and death is their reward.
May it forever be so.
-From the journal of Xynrael Frostbane
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