It was pretty much over before it had truly begun. They had only been a quarter of a mile in front of their unit, and they were done by the time a breathless Delana arrived. "I heard…gunfire." She managed, her eyes darting between Silas leaning over bodies, and the quiet pairing of Ban and Evelyn a couple of steps away from him.
"Handful of deathguards." The paladin grumbled, standing to his full height and staring into the wisping fog. "Russell…"
"Eh?" Ban replied immediately, moving fluidly up to Silas's side and staring intently up at him.
"Others within earshot of this ruckus?"
Ban shrugged, leapt into a flurry of motion, and Evelyn could hear him spiraling away from their position. There was a long moment of silence before he dropped out of a nearby tree, landing gracefully between Evelyn and Silas.
"No. None."
"Good. I will deal with the bodies."
Evelyn woke, blissfully comfortable. Her right side was pressed against one of Wyrmford's command tents, and it radiated warmth. On her left side, Banastre slept, curled around her. His silken coat smelled of Gilneas, and his deep breathing soothed. The mastiff was asleep against her feet, trying to sidle under the tent's side fly that they sheltered beneath.
The encampment was quiet, stealthy, and she craned to glance out from under the fly. "Eh?" Ban queried sleepily, his forehead against her shoulder.
"Nothing." She whispered, and he shifted, stretched, and rested an arm around her.
"Warm enough?"
"Yes." She breathed, measuring the fog. It seemed fainter, but that might just be her imagination. No matter, the leading edge of the pack would hit the capital today. They'd either make the run in this, hidden, obscured, or they'd make the run in the open. Ban ran with Genn, Ban was a scout; he'd be there before the majority were…
"You be careful." She growled, feeling the mastiff shift at the tone in her voice.
"That goes for you as well." She flopped over, nose to muzzle with him. His silver eyes were bright in the dark markings of his face, "We're almost there, Evie."
Such an optimist. He'd always been devil may care, flippant, why would she expect anything different now? But no, it wasn't that. This wasn't Ban being Ban, this was different. This was…faith. Hope. Neither were his usual states of being, but then again, he was changing. Growing up. As was she, as frightening as it was.
"I'm serious, Ban." This close to the capital, dread closed in on her like the fog which had closed in over Gilneas. "I…."
"Shhh…Evie." He still had the arm over her shoulder, and he tried to pull her closer, but she responded with an evil tempered hiss and a smack of the flat of her hand against his chest.
"This isn't a storybook, Ban! Dead is dead."
"I know that, Evie. But we're here to get a job done. I'm here. You're here. And you need to be just as cautious." He crawled out from under the fly, and she shuddered, half from morbid dread and half from the loss of his body heat. It was a chill day, there was a single fragile icicle hanging from the fly, and she wiggled into the heavy sweater that had been bundled up in her bedroll since the flight from Keel, and moved to stand beside Ban. He stared implacably towards the northeast, and she sighed, shaking her head. His mind was already there. His body and heart would follow.
Run. Stop thinking, and just…run. Ban did just that, leaving the majority of the pack behind him as he gave into his instincts. There were few who could keep up with him, and he was not surprised that those who were determined to were Bloodfang…long, thin, lithe, they had moved across Gilneas like a torrent, and they did it again this morning. Their growling spurred him on, reawakened memories of running wild and free in the Headlands, before the cure. He was well ahead of Genn's entourage, well ahead of most of the elements of the 7th, when the trees gave way into marsh… The marsh that edged the inlet surrounding the city.
His intellect tried to override instincts then, and he wavered, but the male Bloodfang behind him gave him a sharp snarl and he felt the graze of claws nip at his rump.
No, no pause. He had to just keep going, to that wall, still shrouded in fog. Over that wall, and into the warrens of the city. Just as the Bloodfang had done that night, only this time, he was with the swarm.
He followed the leader, diving into the water to come up underneath the remaining bridge, and scurried down its underpinnings, unnoticed by the undead guards watching above. His blue coat faded into the shimmering fog and the granite walls, while the Bloodfang were merely dark shadows playing from cover to cover. Before he completely absorbed it, he was in position on the roof of the jail, one of the highest points in the city, his eyes locked on the shambling flow of traffic below him.
"Ugh." He muttered in disgust, and the Bloodfang beside him snorted in agreement. It could always be worse. Ban's curse left him intact, whole, alive. The majority of those were weeping, oozing abominations. Dead.
"There." The Bloodfang gestured with a clawed hand, and Ban felt his ears pin back. No, not another one of those. He hated those. "Dark ranger. We need to take her down first. Now."
Without another syllable, the Bloodfang leapt towards the female figure on the skeletal horse below them. Ban surged forwards, minding his footing on the slick tiles, and caught himself at the edge. Wait…wait…wait…. He couldn't cast on all fours, but if he stood and was silhouetted here, on this roof, he'd give them all away. He could first sense, and then see, the others as they boiled from the windows like giant rats, swarming their target.
Now. He stood, and gestured his way into his first cast. Their job was simple; force the Forsaken focus deep into the streets of Gilneas, and away from the walls. Evelyn was coming up with the 7th, and the guns, and the more time they had to stage, the better.
Evelyn could smell a deep, brackish smell, heavier than the fog, and she chuckled. "What?" Silas asked from beside her, visible as a bright shadow in the rolling fog.
"We're close, I can smell the inlet."
"Is that what that smell is?" The warmage on his other side marveled, and Evelyn's chuckle deepened. At this time of year, it was difficult to judge which was a more pervasive smell… the strong brackish marsh odor, or the never ending smell of coal and ash in the grates.
Evelyn pondered the ears of her newest mount for a moment, doing the calculations in her head. Ban would just automatically know the answer, but she didn't…. "Rising tide, it will abate somewhat as the mud is covered."
"Good. That's a rank smell."
It's the smell of home. It twisted Evelyn's heart, both good and bad, and she sighed. Be careful, Ban.
Oh, who was she fooling? By the time Ban had made it over those walls, he would have become piss and vinegar, rolling along with the tide of worgen. He was in the Pack's care now, and out of her hands.
"This will take us up to one of the narrower parts of this inlet, if I recall Master Russell's maps correctly? Since we have been warned that the resistance earlier has already blown most of the bridges across?"
Evelyn nodded, more as an agreement with herself than any motion to the paladin. This bridge had been destroyed during the original Forsaken assault, that she knew. And there was no way they'd be getting guns across mud. Or across the inlet at full tide. "Yes, narrow here."
