Above the Stars and under the Flames

17. Good Intentions, Poor Results

Lorithiel staggered backward in shock, staring blankly at the woman who had once been her sister, but was now a mindless, corrupt minion of Ragnaros. She could not believe her eyes; just when she had thought she might accomplish her goal, she was faced with this?

"I am Rishe," the scarlet-haired woman said, "and this is Lirandil. Good. Now that introductions have taken place, how about we kill you and get back to our business?"

Lorithiel grimaced and placed her hands on her hips. "I think not! I told you; I'm here to save my sister, and that is exactly what I will do, no matter what it takes." She growled viciously. "Your heads will roll before the night is through."

Rishe laughed loudly. "Goodness, we're terrified. Can't you see Lirandil shivering in his boots at the prospect of facing you, she-who-lets-her-friends-die?" She snorted derisively. "You are useless. Your companions relied on you to help them and protect them, and what did you do? You watched them sacrifice their lives, all for you. And now, you have no one left to defend you."

Lorithiel lowered her gaze, shame and guilt filling her. She began to doubt herself; perhaps Rishe was right. Perhaps there really was no chance at all. Perhaps there was never any chance to begin with; what if everything she did meant nothing?

"That's not quite true," a heavily accented voice came from behind Lorithiel. She spun around, and her hands flew to cover her mouth at what she saw.

Nahiri stood next to her, fire burning in her fists and passion burning in her eyes. She glanced down at Lorithiel briefly. "I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, sister," she said, offering a quick smile, "but I saw you here with them and figured it could only mean trouble. I've been practicing day and night; I will not fail you."

Lorithiel felt relief and gratitude wash over her like a wave so strong that she almost fell to her knees. She took a deep, steadying breath, then smiled at her draenei comrade. "I will never forget your kindness," she replied, then turned to face Rishe and Lirandil, who were starting to look a bit less confident.

"No matter," Rishe hissed, waving her hand dismissively. "It's still three against two. Try your luck, fools. Ragnaros will reign supreme." She lifted her fingers and sent a ball of searing fire toward Lorithiel, who barely managed to dodge in time.

Nahiri charged and Lirandil and Thellandria, taking them both on at the same time. Her newly found affinity with fire allowed her to literally bend her enemies' spells, turning them off course, while her old affinity with the other elements allowed her to fight with abilities that the flame druids were not resistant to.

Lorithiel, meanwhile, was forced to jump around like a hare, dodging this way and that as she ran toward Rishe. Rishe was far more powerful, and she knew it; each one of Lorithiel's dagger attacks failed, and while the Druid of the Flame did not manage to gravely injure Lorithiel, she did send a few scratches and burn marks across her clothing and armor, leaving much of the elf's garbs tattered and worn.

A scream echoed across the battlefield; Nahiri had struck down Lirandil, who now was splayed across the ground, his eyes lifeless and glazed over. The draenei turned immediately to Thellandria and began fighting her.

Rishe shrieked in fury as her brother fell. She knocked Lorithiel backward onto her rear and began casting a powerful spell; the glow around her hands grew brighter and larger by the second. Lorithiel jumped to her feet, but was frozen with fear. Rishe lifted her hands, then thrust them forward, sending an enormous tongue of fire licking toward Lorithiel.

A whinny sounded nearby; Dimpy appeared-the group's supplies still clanking noisily as they dangled from his sides-and shielded Lorithiel, taking the full might of the spell onto himself. Lorithiel raised her hands to protect her eyes from the eruption of flames that followed, and when she looked up again, she saw nothing but a pile of ash surrounded by a few pots and pans.

Grief once again stabbed Lorithiel like a knife, stunning her; Rishe was also shocked, as she had not anticipated that her most powerful spell would be wasted on a pony. She furrowed her brows and stared blankly at the pile of ash, not comprehending exactly what had happened.

Lorithiel, on the other hand, was growing more and more used to sorrow and loss; rage overcame grief rather quickly and, with a prayer to her goddess, she charged. She lifted her dagger high over her opposite shoulder, then slashed downward, slitting Rishe's throat. Blood sprayed onto Lorithiel's face as the flame druid's body collapsed to the ground and ceased to move. Inhaling deeply, Lorithiel turned her gaze toward Nahiri; as she did so, a screech involuntarily escaped her lips at the sight before her.

With a final rock-fisted punch, Nahiri sent Thellandria hurtling over the edge of the nearby cliff, disappearing from sight as she plummeted below.