Gamble for Azeroth 29 (Patreon)

He didn’t wait to leave the troll lands until he had made a camp. He was aware that had had angered Arthas to an absurd degree by saving Sylvanas, and he doubted his insults helped to calm him down.

Instead, he went deeper, found himself a deep cave in the wilderness, hoping that the thickness of the earth would prevent his spells from being noticed.

He started to survey the damage … and what he found surprised him. He had known that her situation was bad, but it was worse than he had expected. He had long healed the surface wounds, but it did nothing to counter the necrotic energy that infused her being, merely preventing it from worsening.

The only good thing was that she carried no recent sword wounds, which meant Arthas didn’t manage to cut her. It was good, because even from a distance, Arthas’ sword felt like death itself. He doubted a cut from that blade was something one could easily shrug off.

He used his blade to cut her armor off, which wasn’t hard since its enchantments had shattered during the battle.

Naturally, his first response was a healing spell, doing his best to focus, hoping that the Exorcist trait would counter the remnant energies. It did … but he could see the conflict was harming her.

It would not be a problem if she wasn’t already on death’s door. Technically, he could carefully balance healing with her recovery. It would require her to rest for a week or two. In a saner world, especially for an elf, it was nothing.

Unfortunately, they didn’t have two weeks. Hell, he doubted whether they had two days. With the gates fallen, Silvermoon had no chance of resisting the undead army even for a day, and betting Arthas was not vindictive enough not to burn his land was too much.

Especially since the asshole prince had experience massacring the people of Stratholme.

“Well, Ichor it is,” he said. He could feel the changes being made in his body. Previously, the only reason he was able to push himself to the limit was Total Concentration Breathing, allowing him to replenish lost stamina and battle exhaustion.

The moment he received the Ichor trait, however, it changed. He could feel the potency of his body changing. Suddenly, the last thing he needed to worry about was exhaustion. But, at this moment, he wasn’t worried about that part.

He needed to figure out how to turn Ichor into a medicinal soup quickly. A potion would have been much better, but his alchemy knowledge was limited to a few things he had learned from Allerton.

Luckily, he had already perfected a method while he was trying to figure out how to create special training food for soldiers. Back then, he had been held back because the light lily was a weak ingredient.

His own blood, morbid as it was, had no such problem. He cut his hand, and bled into a small bowl in his pack. The moment he pulled back his blade, it healed, not even waiting for him to activate Total Concentration Breathing.

Expert Biology and Polymath once again proved a devastating combination when he experimented with his own blood, some light-infused plants he raised with Bloom quickly, as well as infusing some healing energies directly.

It still took several tries for the mixture to settle into something useful, and a feeding a drop to a random rat made it burn to death. Diluted, it worked.

Not surprisingly, he decided as he carefully started to drip feed the mixture to Sylvanas. Her body absorbed it quickly, boosting her vitality, which allowed him to counter the necrotic energies and other unholy curses with his healing.

At the same time, he was glad that he didn’t need to worry about them thanks to Natural Restoration. They were messy.

Healing her still took an hour, and when it finished, she was still unconscious. But at least her skin was no longer a scary gray, but had regained its healthy golden color.

It left escaping troll lands. He guessed that Arthas had already assigned his undead through the land border.

“How about the sea route?” he asked himself with a chuckle. He doubted Arthas would expect him to go through the sea, and even if he did, he would have limited assets underwater.

Momentum worked just as well swimming.

Without trying to heal Sylvanas constantly or fending the attacks, the situation was far simpler. Trolls weren’t vigilant either, moving to the border to fight against Arthas. He suspected it wouldn’t last long, but every second was valuable.

The last leg of the escape happened easily.

To his credit, Arthas must have considered the possibility of him taking to the sea, but avoiding them was easy. All he needed was to grow a weird helmet for Sylvanas filled with enough plants to replenish her air, Bloom once again proving incredibly useful.

He didn’t even need to create one himself. With Ichor, he could hold his breath to an absurd degree. Avoiding an enemy was easy when one had unconventional methods that they couldn’t begin guessing. He moved to the land near Northdale, which was right between elven border and Tyr’s Hand.

Any other time, he would have visited Tyr’s hand, but the current situation didn’t allow it. Instead, he once again combined Bloom and Momentum to avoid undead presence, and moved toward Stratholme. This time, he didn’t destroy bases, not even the defenseless ones.

He couldn’t afford them getting caught … especially since there was a chance that Arthas still believed that he was in troll lands, that his blockade was successful. If he learned that he had returned to Stratholme successfully, he would send enough forces to bury the city.

Not something they could afford at the moment.

Sylvanas opened her eyes when they were near Stratholme. The first thing she whispered was a dazed statement. “I-is this what the afterlife feels like … I can get used to it,” she whispered.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sorry to disappoint you, my beautiful general. Still alive.”

“A-Arvis,” she stammered. “How?”

“I was near Silvermoon when the ring triggered. I saved you.”

“The last thing I remember is Arthas charging toward me with his cursed sword. Then … a flash. I assumed it was a dream.”

Any other time, he would have teased her about dreaming him, but today was too solemn for it. She shuffled in his arms. “What about Silvermoon?” she asked.

He briefly explained how he taunted Arthas to the troll lands. “When I engaged with him, the siege had just started. I probably bought hours, but I suspect it won’t make much difference. Not unless the council had been preparing magical defenses since the first warning, and the traitors didn’t sabotage it.”

He didn’t sugarcoat it, because it would be a waste of time. Sylvanas knew the situation better than he did.

“I have to go help—“

“No. Currently, the fact that Arthas wants to kill us is keeping a substantial part of the undead army busy fighting trolls. If we reveal ourselves, it would change.”

“What are we going to do, then?” she asked. “I’m the Ranger-General. I can’t hide.”

“You won’t be hiding. You’ll rest for a day while we sneak into Stratholme. I’ll heal you to your peak condition, then we’ll visit your estate, pick you a new weapon, and we’ll see from there.”

“I can’t—“

“Look. I know exactly what you are feeling,” he said to her. She opened her mouth to disagree, but he grabbed her chin and forcibly made her look at the dead land. “The same thing happened to Lordaeron, and worse, we probably lost eight out of ten. At least you had warning and evacuated your villagers. You have saved your people, Sylvanas.”

A tear dripped down her cheek. “It doesn’t feel enough.”

“It’s not about whether it’s enough or not. You simply don’t have the luxury of mourning, just like I don’t.”

“Silvermoon—“

“Is already fallen, and there’s nothing you can do,” he said. He knew he was being harsh, but he had to. The last thing he wanted was Sylvanas to go back to Silvermoon and sacrifice herself pointlessly out of guilt.

“But—“

“No. You’re going to rest for a day, return to fighting form, and move to organize your people. With Silvermoon fallen, the land will be in chaos. We don’t know how the undead will react, but if they start spreading across the countryside, you should be ready to evacuate them to Stratholme.”

“If they don’t?”

“Then we’ll decide,” he replied. He suspected that if they didn’t start hunting elves, they would target either Stromgarde or Tyr’s Hand, two easiest targets with concentrated populations. He wasn’t entirely sure about it anymore.

Their attack on Quel’Thalas showed that they were operating with objectives he couldn’t predict.

He didn’t say anything. “I can’t believe they had shattered our defenses that easily. I expected traitors, but multiple magisters … what were they thinking?”

“It’s difficult to understand the mind of a traitor,” he said. “It makes it even more important for you to act. Merely a fraction of them live in Silvermoon. Most of them are in the surrounding forest. Without you organizing the defense, they will die.”

She sighed, and a dark, hysterical chuckle escaped her mouth. “At least I don’t have to deal with idiots on the council preventing me from acting.”

He couldn’t help but match it. It was dark, but in their situation, very fitting. “Always a silver lining,” he agreed.

“Tell me exactly what happened, please,” she asked.

He told her all he saw, though he deliberately focused on the signs he had seen on the way, including very limited elven deaths. He also focused on the battle between Amani and the Scourge, letting her believe that there was some hope.

“I can’t believe we have fallen into the hands of a traitor,” she said.

He sighed. “It doesn’t help that your king had his head in his ass.”

“King Anasterian is a great warrior,” Sylvanas argued, but he could sense just how little respect her voice carried for him.

“There’s a story there, right?”

She stilled for a moment, then sighed. “Yes. During the Second War, my parents had been the ambassadors for the alliance, while Anasterian argued for isolation. They killed outside, and he claimed that they had fallen to Amani trolls, nothing to do with the Horde. I went by myself and found evidence. An orcish arrow … and he destroyed it in front of my eyes, swore me to secrecy, and forbade me to act. Only when my sister found orcs already invading Quel’Thalas, did he joined Alliance?”

“And abandoned it immediately after the immediate danger had passed. Not exactly a wise man,” he said, doing his best to hold back the curses the bastard deserved.

He already had a poor opinion of the elven king, but he assumed mostly it was the biased stories. Learning that he was even worse. It wasn’t just the arrogance, but also the incompetence. “Who will be next in line?”

“Prince Kael’Thalas. An archmage of Dalaran.”

“I see,” he said. He didn’t want to feel biased against him, considering they would eventually interact, but he wasn’t feeling very hopeful. Up until now, elves in general didn’t impress him much, with Sylvanas being the only exception.

“Can’t we go Windrunner Spire?”

“No. It’s too risky. Arthas might be observing it. It’s an easy target.”

“You have a point,” she admitted. “How are you running so fast?” she asked. “You’re faster than a dragonhawk, and even they get tired.”

“Remember the bloodline that awakened,” he said. She nodded. “Apparently, it hadn’t fully awakened yet. The more I fight, the more I can feel my power.”

Her eyes widened. “There’s more?”

“Probably,” he said. “I can’t tell more because I’m flying blind,” he said, then decided to give her ‘proof’. He pricked his finger and let a drop of blood fall on her hand. It was still red, but it throbbed with vitality.

Her eyes widened. “This is…”

“My bloodline. Or whatever that was going on. I don’t really care.”

“What if there are risks?”

“Hardly something we can care about right now,” he said.

She paused. “That’s how you healed me, right? Otherwise, my wounds…”

“I might have used a small portion as an ingredient,” he admitted. “That’s the least I can do for the ancient allies of my house, right?”

She paused a moment, then remembered the lie they had created to give her an excuse to help him. “Right,” she chuckled.

They said nothing else until the walls of Stratholme appeared in front of them, still filled with people, going as usual. He let out a relaxed sigh as he once again went to the sea. “Hold your breath,” he said. “We’re going to sneak into the city from the sea?”

“Really? Why?”

“It’s a high chance that there are some Cult spies, or even if there were not, there might be using magic to scry, and gates are an obvious target.”

“Instead, you’re going to sneak into your own city.”

“Simple solutions are the best,” he said. “Not every problem requires a dedicated artifact.”

“You have a point,” she said. She managed a half-smile. The pain was still there, but she was somewhat distracted.

Sneaking into the city was even easier than escaping troll lands. Stratholme was a huge city that could hold a million people, occupied by around thirty thousand people. Even an amateur could sneak in, and he was no amateur.

Still carrying Sylvanas, he decided to go and find an empty house near the cathedral. Sylvanas still needed more healing, and he was not an expert, not at the level of Lady Blaumeux, nor did he carry the sheer affinity of Sally.

No one would feel weird when they felt a burst of light from near the cathedral.

Luckily, without Sally acting like a crazed prophet, the cathedral wasn’t full of people. It helped that some of the priests he saved joined to share the weight, meaning it wasn’t crowded anymore.

Sneaking into one of the empty houses was easy. They settled into the upstairs room.

Sylvanas said nothing while he cast a few more spells, mostly as a diagnostic. “I’ll go and get a real healer,” he said.

She grabbed his hand. “Wait a second,” she said. He waited, though feeling his face burn when she suddenly looked him in the eye. “You came for me.”

“I did,” he admitted.

“You saved my life,” she said.

“I did.”

“Why?”

He paused. He had to admit the strategy played a role, but when he closed his eyes, he remembered another moment. When he grew her a strawberry, and she took a bite. “I want to see you eat strawberries again,” he said.

She paused, blushing. She squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk it … any day but today.” He nodded in understanding. “But, just so that there’s no misunderstanding,” she added, got closer, and pressed her lips against his.

He froze. It wasn’t his first kiss by a long shot … but it felt different.

He could have pulled back, but instead, he grabbed her chin, and let his tongue slip inside, and she responded. Not just by kissing him desperately, but also by ripping what remained of her ranger outfit, resembling of rags.

Arvis had many dalliances as expected, but he had never seen sex as something important. It was a fun pastime, something one did because it was expected of a young lord. Franky, he had never seen the point.

That changed the moment his gaze fell on Sylvanas’ naked body, perfection incarnate. As he looked at her, she blushed. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he laid her down carefully, and slipped inside.

Her expression of surprise at the sensation suggested it might even be her first time, but he didn’t ask her that. Well, he couldn’t, not with his mouth rebelling, staying locked to her lips while his hips moved.

The only thing that was keeping him back that she was still exhausted, forcing him to move far gentler than he was tempted to. “Yes,” Sylvanas whispered in Thalassian.

“My beautiful ranger,” he answered in Thalassian, that made her surprised. “I learned it for you,” he answered.

“You’re a quick learner,” she whispered, trying to sound in control. Arvis realized that she was trying to look like she was more experienced than she actually was, which, coming from a near legendary figure like her, was actually amusing. He let her believe that she succeeded.

It was easy to make allowances to a woman when her beauty could easily be pointed as the perfection, especially when said perfection was underneath, moaning and gasping with his every touch.

“I like making you happy,” he said, and to his surprise, he found that to be true. That was not the say feeling her tighten around him was the greatest moment of pleasure he had ever experienced, but watching the way her pleasure battled shyness on her face while he licked her nipples was a close second.

“You do,” she whispered.

“I do,” he responded as he quickened his movement. Normally, he could go for longer, but those times, he didn’t feel like his chest was burning with all the emotions he had never felt.

Luckily, Sylvanas seemed to lose in pleasure even more, the way her tightening signaling a spectacular climax that would have alerted the whole city if she hadn’t hastily cast a silencing spell.

She might be a ranger first, but as a high elf mage, what she counted as passable casting was better than most mages.

“I didn't expect my queen to be a screamer,” he teased her as he pushed one last time, exploding inside her. To his surprise, just as her tremors were calming down, his explosion triggered another. She must have been even more sensitive than he realized.

Not that it was an issue. As long as she was willing, he was a willing practice partner.

Underneath him, she took several deep breaths, and he assumed she was about to collapse. But, to his surprise, when she opened her eyes, her gaze was bright and energetic. “You used your blood to help me recover, right?” she asked.

He nodded.

She smiled, halfway between shy and excited. “Apparently, blood isn’t the only way,” she whispered.

“Oh, really,” he whispered, his heartbeat picking up. He cast a healing spell just to be sure, only to confirm that she was right. “Then, my queen. Reinforce the silencing spell, and let’s see how loud you can truly get while ‘getting healed’.

They exploded into action until Sylvanas was completely healed…