The Wolf Within - A World of Warcraft Story

Part 8 - To Rest, At Last

PART 8

  “Tell Greymane that we have trackers on Sylvanas and tell him about the Plague.” Lorna instructed, running her fingers through her messy hair. “The decision will be his. Launch an all-out attack against the Leader of the Forsaken or try to evacuate our survivors. Go swiftly.” She nodded, turning away.

 Ever since she’d heard the Banshee Queen’s last words, a dark, bottomless feeling had settled in the pit of Rosie’s stomach.

 “…Not even their bones will remain by tomorrow…”

 Luckily, she had Cynric with her.

 Cynric.

 Her heart beat faster every time she looked at him. Her cheeks burned with a soft glow and shivers ran up and down her spine. She felt like holding on to him and never letting go.

 “Ro, are you comin’?” Cynric murmured in her ear, steering her out into the rain. His hand remained on her shoulder as she followed him dazedly.

 “Uh, yeah, I’m great.”

 He smirked, bobbing his head. “That’s good.”

 She’d noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes. They were dark and miserable and exhausted, reflecting how they all felt. Except for the dead, of course. With a start, Rosarie wondered if her family was still alright.

 This was not the time! Her mind seemed to scream. Focus, damn it!

  The building where Greymane resided was right next to the one they had been in moments ago. As they came in, Rosie stopped behind Cynric, choking back tears. The King was slumped over his dead son’s body, now laid peacefully with a white rose placed over the arrow wound. He looked pale and sickly. The poison must have been very lethal.

 Cynric cleared his throat, a hint of sadness in his voice. “My King, we have trackers on Sylvanas. But, she is plannin’ to deploy their Plague onto Gilneas sometime later today. What shall we do? Do you want us to launch an attack on the Banshee Queen or begin evacuatin’ the survivors?” He asked, looking down at the old king.

 Greymane stayed silent for a few moments, before looking up with sorrowful golden eyes. “You present me with the most difficult choice of my life, Cynric.” He rasped. “As much as I want to exact swift and brutal revenge... I must honor my son's memory first. He cared for his people first and foremost.” With a sigh, King Genn rose to his feet, “The Undertaker's Pass goes underground below Northgate River. You must prevent the plague from being deployed while we evacuate our men, women and children to Aderic's Repose.”

 Rosie frowned, looking up at her king. “But how?”

 Greymane gestured outside, “We captured one of the Forsaken's dreaded bombing bats. I want you to fly the infernal beast as best you can and unleash hell upon those who seek to bring the Plague to our people. Hurry!” He growled, waving them away.

 The two nodded, dashing away. Rosie glanced sideways at Cynric, “Will you be the one to steer the bat?” She asked hopefully.

 He nodded, shielding his face against the rain. “Aye, don’t worry about doin’ that. I ain’t lettin’ a woman drive.” He smirked.

  Rosie made a face at him, somehow feeling a small weight lift off of her heart at the sarcastic remark.  Finally, they approached the monstrous bat, held down on chains by several men, their muskets loaded and ready to fire. Cynric gave them a brisk nod and walked up to the beast, eyeing it.

 The bat was humongous; bigger than even a horse. It had dirty violet-grey-black fur and a flat muzzle, with thin, yellowed fangs peeking out beneath the snout. Its eyes were glowing yellow, darting from one figure to the other. Its wings were beating furiously, trying to carry it away. Rosie noticed with a slight shiver that its paws and wings were tipped with sharp claws. It reeked of decay.