Chapter 30: Heroic intervention

Author's Note: This chapter will be emotional. It was not easy for me to write this chapter but it's canon and necessary for the course of the story, so I had to do it.

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'This can't happen.'

'This is not real.'

'There is no way the orcs managed to break through the defensive line in the south.'

'This has to be some sort of a nightmare.'

Unfortunately, what Lirath was seeing was not a nightmare. It was as real as the cut on his left cheek. The cut the orc's axe had caused as its blade had grazed his face. The cut was neither deep or large so not much blood flowed out of it. It hurt a little but he ignored the pain as best as he could. His narrowed eyes rested on the orc who was not far away from him.

From the corners of his eyes, he saw a second orc who was lying not far away from him. He had slain the female orc a few moments before the orc, he was facing currently, had come out of nowhere.

This orc was a lot larger than the female archer Lirath had just killed. It was a male who was seven feet tall while Lirath was only six feet and three inches tall. The orc was very muscular but slow while Lirath was smaller but faster. Nevertheless, he knew he shouldn't underestimate the orc. One hit would be enough for the orc to knock the elf out and kill him then.

The elf's dagger was nothing compared to the axe the green-skinned creature was holding. The orc wore armour while Lirath only wore a red tunic and blue trousers. He regretted that he hadn't put on the chain mail beneath his tunic before he had left the house. But it wouldn't have protected him anyway. At least not against such a huge and sharp battle axe.

Lirath would only have a chance to kill the orc if he would manage to pick up the bow which was lying next to the corpse. But the orc was standing in front of it, not daring to move away. Lirath was not sure if the orc was aware of the bow which was lying there. If he was not, there was still the chance that he could lure him away and pick up the bow.

If he wouldn't manage to do that... Well, he would die. There was no other person in his near who could help him. Windrunner Spire was only about two hundred feet away from him, thick black smoke surrounded it. It was not the building which was burning. The trees around it were.

There was no ranger or guard in his near which was very odd, considering how many troops were stationed there. He hadn't spotted many orcs either. Maybe they had already left the spire which could only mean that they had already raided the house of Lirath's family. He was only hoping that his family was alright. He was hoping that they were hiding in the basement, in the wardrobes or somewhere where these ugly creatures couldn't find them.

He had to get to his house and look for his family. But first, he had to deal with the orc who was still hesitating to attack him for some reason. The young elf checked his surroundings without letting the green monster out of his sight. Nothing had changed. No other elves, humans, orcs or trolls were around them. They were alone.

Lirath had never killed a humanoid creature until this day. He had killed wolves, deers and boars before but he had never killed an orc or a troll before. He still didn't know how he had managed to kill the female orc with the bow. It had been more luck than skill but the orc was dead while he was alive. But now he was facing a male orc who was more muscular and a lot larger than his female counterpart.

The young high elf started to walk circles around the orc who was regarding him with narrowed eyes. Lirath assumed that the orc didn't charge at him without thinking twice because he believed that he had killed the orc because of pure skill. Lirath was glad that the orc didn't know that he wasn't as good as he assumed, otherwise, he would be already dead.

Lirath was not a bad fighter but didn't have a weapon which could keep up with the battle axe. He needed that bow so badly. Fortunately, the orc was dumb enough to walk in the opposite direction as Lirath continued to walk circles around him. His plan, to lure the orc away from the spot where the bow was lying, worked perfectly.

He reached the bow, throwing Camillia's dagger at the orc who blocked it with his axe. The dagger repelled and shattered in little pieces, its remains landed on the ground. That smart move had bought the elf enough time to pick up the bow and nock an arrow. The orc roared out loudly as he realized that he had been tricked by the blond man.

He charged at him but he was not very fast compared to the elf. Lirath was light and slim, meaning he was a lot faster than the bulky orc. He increased the distance between them, shooting arrows while running. He was a decent archer when he was standing on the same spot while aiming but he was not as good in aiming while running. It was a real challenge for him to hit the orc while he was running away from him.

He missed a few arrows, a few were blocked by the battle axe but then two arrows hit. One in the orc's unprotected left upper thigh and the other in the right upper arm which was only protected by a leather bracer. The orc cried out in pain but he didn't stop moving. His movements became slower so Lirath was able to increase the distance between them.

Sylvanas had always told him that it was no shame to run away from a stronger opponent as long as he would continue to shot arrows at him. And he did that. And it was very effective. He hit the orc's legs and feet more often, slowing him down until he was barely able to move without crying out in pain. The orc roared out in anger and did something unexpected.

He threw his axe at the astonished elf who was not able to react fast enough to completely dodge it. The axe grazed his left hip and left a deep and large cut behind. Blood was flowing out, waves of pain rushed through Lirath's body.

He gritted his teeth, preventing that a pained cry would escape his trembling lips. He was hurt but the adrenaline was giving him enough strength to keep moving and fighting. He pulled another arrow out of his quiver, aiming and firing it within two seconds. The orc had no other weapon or shield he could use to block the arrow. He was too slow to dodge the arrow which pierced through his bald green head and his brain. The orc was dead immediately, his body fell backwards and landed on the ground which was covered by the blood of the female orc.

Lirath knew he didn't have the time to pick up the arrows which hadn't hit the orc nor did he have the time to pull them out of the orc's body. He checked his quiver, counting five arrows. He had to press one of his hands on the wound on his hip to slow down the bleeding process as best as possible, so he was not able to pick up the battle axe because it was too large for him to hold it with only one hand.

He had nothing to stop the bleeding, he could only hope that a healer would be out there somewhere. Maybe he would find some bandages in the house of his family so he could to stop the bleeding for the moment. He had to do something if he didn't want to bleed to death.

Lirath started to move. He was running as fast as he could, his left hip hurt with every step he made but he ignored the pain as best as he could. He even gritted his teeth and bit his bottom lip hard from time to time to prevent that loud pained screams would escape his lips. He didn't want to tell his enemies that he was there. The consequences would be fatal. He was just hoping that no orc would approach him while he was running to his house, which was still eighty feet away from him.

He arrived at the large house eventually and stopped for a moment to check his surroundings. His eyes widened as he saw the numerous corpses which lied in a large puddle of blood. He saw lots of orcs and high elven guards and rangers. He saw dead wolves of enormous size, horses and even dragonhawks.

It was difficult to define the number of corpses which were spread all over the ground. There were lots of separated limbs and bodies which had been split into two halves. There could be twenty bodies but there could also be twenty-five or thirty. Maybe even more. It was impossible to define the exact number.

Lirath needed a few moments to avert his gaze from the horrible scene in front of him. He overgrew his fear, took all his courage together and left the dead bodies behind him as he rushed to the entrance of Windrunner Spire. He didn't need to open the door because it had been thrown out of its hinges, lying in the middle of the entrance hall.

A quiet shocked noise escaped his lips as he noticed that the entrance hall was devastated. It had been raided like all the other rooms where he was searching for survivors. He didn't find anyone at the first level, at least no person who was still alive. He had spotted more dead orcs but also more dead elves. Unfortunately, one of them was his cousin. He didn't have the time to grieve for her, not yet at least. He will have enough time later to mourn the fallen. He needed to find something with which he could treat his wound, then he needed to look out for survivors.

He picked up a sword from the floor, holding it in his right hand while he was still pressing his left hand on the wound. He was losing more blood the longer the wound remained untreated. He noticed that his body was shaking a bit. "That's not a good sign," he muttered, walking to the kitchen were the first aid-box was hanging on the wall.

He opened it. His eyes widened when he noticed that it was empty. Someone had plundered it already. He looked around, spotting bandages in a corner. Unfortunately, the bandages were soaked with blood which covered the kitchen floor.

He cursed silently, trying to remember if there was a second first-aid box or kit somewhere in the house. He came to the conclusion that there could be one in the cellar. But the entrance to the cellar was on the other side of the house, meaning he had to walk through the numerous rooms on the first floor.

He moved as fast as possible, making sure he didn't make any sound. He didn't know if there were still raiders in the house. It was not unlikely. Orcs could still be in the second or third floor, maybe even in the cellar. He had to be careful, otherwise, he wouldn't die because of bleeding. One wrong step could catch the attention of the orcs who could still remain in the house.

Lirath made careful but quick steps, reaching the staircase which led down to the cellar. He took a deep breath, walking down the stairs. He came to a door which creaked loudly when he opened it. He slipped in the room quickly, hoping no one had heard that. The room was totally dark. Even though his eyes got used to the dark quickly, he was not able to recognize much. He searched for the light switch, finding it eventually. He was about to switch on the light as he felt a sharp blade being pressed against his throat.

"Don't you dare to move," a low voice said. He breathed out in relief when realized to who the voice belonged. "Zendarin, it's me," Lirath whispered, dropping his sword. "You don't have to kill me, I'm on your side."

"Lirath? Is that you?" the familiar voice asked.

Lirath turned on the light, turning around as soon as his cousin had removed the blade from his throat. He didn't hesitate to regard him from head to toe. The robes of the red-haired mage were covered by blood but not by his blood. His robe was partly ripped but there were no wounds on his torso. The only wound he got was a stab wound in his left upper arm. He looked frightened, his face was very pale and his hand, which was holding the knife, was shaking. Lirath assumed that he was shocked and, traumatised by what he must have witnessed.

Lirath put his hands on his cousin's shoulders, staring into his widened eyes. It was not easy to calm down the frightened mage but he managed to do that eventually. Lirath wanted to ask him what had happened but then he remembered that he needed to treat his wounds first. He searched through the room, finding a first-aid kit. He opened it, asking his cousin for help. Together, they managed to stop the bleeding for the moment and dress the wound.

"What happened?" Lirath asked.

Zendarin was telling him everything he knew, He stuttered sometimes but he managed to explain to his cousin what had happened. He told him about the orcs who had come out of nowhere and attacked Windrunner Spire first before most of them had moved to the north to attack Windrunner Village. He told him about the battle in front of the spire and about the orcs who had entered the spire and devastated it.

"I saw your sister...She is dead... I'm sorry..." spoke Lirath, his voice reflected sorrow.

"I know that already... I fought by her side before the orcs pushed us back in the house. These bastards killed her and they will pay for that. Unfortunately, I don't know how many orcs died nor do I know how many of our people survived. I don't even know how many orcs are left.

"A lot of people died from both sides," said Lirath, regarding his cousin from head to toe once again. "What are you doing in the cellar anyway? I have expected you would defend our home and our family."

"I fought for a while but then I got poisoned."

"Poisoned?" asked Lirath. The worry he was feeling was clearly reflected by his voice and facial expression.

"It's not a lethal poison. It just prevents that I can use my magic, that's why I'm waiting here until I can cast spells again."

Lirath's look didn't reflect the mistrust he was feeling at the moment. His cousin's statement sounded plausible. He knew about poisons which could have such an effect on its victims so it was not unlikely that Zendarin was speaking the truth. He was wounded so it could be possible that the weapon, which had wounded him, had been poisoned.

On the other hand, Zendarin had never been a brave person. He was known for chickening out whenever something became too serious or too dangerous. He was not a hero, not even a survivor. He was more like a scared man who wanted to survive by any means. Lirath could also be wrong with his assumption that Zendarin was too cowardly to get out of the cellar where he was temporarily safe.

Nonetheless, he didn't say anything about his assumption. "We should check the other floors first. We have to look out for survivors."

"We don't know how many orcs are out there. It's too dangerous, we better stay here and wait for assistance," spoke Zendarin. It was conspicuous that he was avoiding eye contact. Once again, Lirath didn't say anything.

"We don't know if we get any assistance. We have to look out for survivors, that's our duty."

"I'm nothing without my magic. I won't be very useful."

A quite groan escaped Lirath's lips as he realized that his cousin was looking for an excuse to not leave the cellar. "You are better than nothing. You can help me looking through the rooms and guide the survivors out of the spire. We need to evacuate them. Come, Zendarin. It's our family we are talking about, we have to help them."

The redhead responded after hesitating for a few moments. "Fine, I follow you."

The blond elf didn't need to be told twice. He climbed the stairs to the first level, making sure Zendarin was following him. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, looking through the rooms one after one.

They noticed that all the other rooms had been raided and devastated as well. The furniture was either destroyed or had been thrown around, common items were spread all over the floor while valuable objects like jewellery or gold had been stolen. Some of the paintings, which had hung on the walls and showed landscapes in Quel'Thalas or high elves, had been stolen as well or destroyed. Nothing was standing on the spot it was supposed to be. There were also five orc corpses and three elf corpses on the second floor.

They also checked Lirath's room and the rooms of his sisters. They were a mess as well. At least he found six arrows in the highest drawer of one of Vereesa's cupboards and six arrows in his room so he had seventeen in total. He gave Zendarin the bow of the orc so he could take his bow out of his wardrobe. Fortunately for him, it was not damaged.

They were about to go to the library as they heard a loud scream coming from his parent's room. The elves didn't hesitate to rush through the corridor until its very end where the room of his parents was. Lirath had his bow drawn, an arrow was already nocked as his cousin opened the door. They entered the room. Their eyes widened as they saw the scene in front of them.

Two orcs were holding Lireesa Windrunner tightly, whose clothes were torn apart, while a third orc was unbuttoning his trousers at this very moment. It was obvious what they wanted to do to her. Lirath would do everything in his power to prevent that his mother would get violated by these sick creatures.

Raged filled him, leading him to let loose the arrow without aiming first. The arrow swooshed through the air and hit the orc right between his legs, causing that he cried out in pain. His comrades turned their heads, looking at the one responsible for their comrade's pain. They needed a few moments to realize what was going on so Lirath could fire another arrow which hit the orc in the left eye. The green creature was not dead yet but that changed when a sharp ice lance drilled through his chest and heart.

The orcs let Lireesa go, picking up their weapons quickly. One had a large sword and the other had two axes. Lirath ran to the left side of the very large room, shooting an arrow at the orc with the sword. He hit his left upper thigh but the next arrow was blocked by the sword's massive blade.

The orc charged at Lirath while his comrade moved towards Zendarin who was, contrary to his statement, able to use magic. A fireball hit the orc, setting him on fire. But before the flames were able to jump over on the nearest piece of furniture and cause that a fire would break out, Zendarin managed to hit his foe with an arcane blast, causing him to stagger backwards. The green creature stumbled over Lireesa's outstretched leg, falling through the hole in the wall right behind him.

The loud screams became quieter and quieter the more seconds passed. The sound of breaking bones was audible after a few moments. The orc's body had hit the ground and everyone was sure he didn't survive the fall. The last remaining orc cried out in anger as he tried to hit his opponent.

Lirath dodged the first swing, then the second but he was hit by the third which left a not so little gaping wound on his torso. A pained scream escaped his lips. He cried out in pain again as the orc's foot hit him and pushed him against the wall behind him. He bounced off the wall and landed on the ground.

Lirath tried to get up but his entire body hurt. He felt weak and his body felt colder than usual, probably because of the amount of blood he had lost so far. The orc raised his sword above his head, intending to kill the elf but ice wrapped around his hands and the sword, forming an ice block. He was no longer able to cut Lirath in half.

The orc brute had a bewildered expression of his face. He could beat Lirath to death with the ice block if he wanted to but he didn't. Instead, he turned around and charged at the mage who was already preparing the next spell. Unfortunately, the orc reached him before he could finish his spell, knocking him away which caused that his spell was interrupted.

The orc lifted the ice block above his head, ready to smash Zendarin's head. Both male elves were lying on the floor, unable to get up and react in time. But Lireesa was able to do something. She had picked up her son's sword in the meantime, throwing it at the orc whose froze hands were not far away from the mage's head. The orc froze in his movement as the sword pierced through his neck.

He turned around, spitting a massive amount of blood out. Shock and fear were written all over his face as he ran towards the half-naked woman. It was a miracle that he was still able to stand, walk and try to attack her. Even though Lireesa's disease didn't allow her to move very fast, she was still able to avoid getting crushed by the ice block. She jumped behind the orc, beheading him as she drew the sword out of his neck. The orc's head landed on the floor first, quickly followed by the massive body.

Lireesa rushed to her son, turning him around to see if he was alright. He was very pale, blood flowed out of two wounds. Her face was a mask of shock, her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. She fought off the panic which threatened to overwhelm her, pressing her hands on the wounds. Her voice was weak and trembled as she called after Zendarin who had gotten up in the meantime.

"This looks bad, I don't think the first-aid kit will fix his wounds. He needs a healer," spoke Lireesa.

"All of the priests and paladins who were stationed in the near of the house are dead. There must be healers in the village but I don't believe he will make it to the village," responded Zendarin hesitantly. He was afraid how she might react so he turned around and avoided looking at her.

"We must do something," she cried out. Her face was pale, her eyes were widened in shock and tears ran down her cheeks. She was afraid of losing Lirath. Afraid of losing her only son. She had already lost two nieces, one of her brothers and her brother-in-law on this day. She didn't want to lose him too. "You need to do something."

"But what... There is nothing I can do for him"

"Create a portal to Silvermoon City," she demanded.

Zendarin frowned, shaking his head slightly. "Creating a portal alone would take too much time, especially in my condition. My left arm is injured so I can only use one hand to cast which make things much more difficult. Not to mention that taking him through a portal would only make his condition worse."

"He will die if we don't try it. You said there is no healer out there, what else are we supposed to do?"

Lirath's weak voice was hearable. "He is right, mother. The wounds are deep and he would take too long alone. You can only bring me to the village and hope that you meet a healer on the way. Otherwise..."

"Hundreds of orcs could attack us while we travel to the village. Not to mention that the village is also under attack. You are not safe there."

"I'm not safe here either," he responded weakly, putting his hand on her cheek.

"We need to go," said Zendarin, handing his aunt a fresh robe he had taken out of her wardrobe. She put it on quickly, not caring that he was still in the same room. Together with Zendarin, she helped Lirath up who was still able to walk but only slowly. They dressed his wounds, hoping that will buy him some time. They got out of the room, leaving the house as fast as possible.

They saw a person on the forecourt. It was a priest with blond hair and a light-blue robe. He rushed to him as soon as he saw them. "Praised be the sun, a healer is here," Lireesa shouted, her voice and her eyes reflected hope. They placed Lirath on the nearest bench, stepping away so the priest had enough space to treat Lirath. The priest started to examine the wound on the left hip. "I will take care of him. You need to get out of here."

"I won't leave my son," said Lireesa.

"You have to," the priest responded with an insisting tone in his voice. "It's not safe for you here."

"I..." Lireesa started but the priest interrupted her. "The orcs can come every moment. You need to get out of here before it's too late."

"What about you?" she asked. "What happens when they come before you have healed all of his wounds. I can't leave you and Lirath here without knowing if you are safe or not."

"We will hide somewhere if the orcs come."

Lireesa frowned. "I can't do this. I can't leave my son."

"You can't do anything to help him," argued the priest.

"I can fight, so does he," she responded, pointing at Zendarin.

The priest stood up abruptly, turning to Lireesa and her nephew. His facial expression was twisted by anger. "Why do all women have to contradict me whenever I try to do something good for them?" he hissed loudly. He made a step forward, stopping right in front of Lireesa who was giving him a confused look. His fists were clenched, his bottom lip trembled and his eyes were was very upset for a reason none of the other elves knew.

Lireesa made a few steps backwards, looking at Zendarin who scrutinized the priest closely. He looked familiar to him. He knew this man but his name didn't come in his mind. He thought hard about the man's name, his eyes widened when remembered his name eventually.

"Aren't you Xenarion Sunsinger? Aren't you the famous priest who got arrested for hiring mercenaries to attack his own son? Aren't you supposed to be locked in a cell?"

Xenarion didn't reply to him, instead, he walked towards the smaller elf who backed away, keeping the distance between them constant.

"What are you doing? You are supposed to help my son. You have to do that," shouted Lireesa. Tears formed in her eyes. She couldn't understand what the priest was doing and why he wasn't helping her son.

She couldn't know that Xenarion had never intended to heal her son nor could she know that he was responsible that the orcs were attacking Windrunner Village and Windrunner Spire. He had told the Horde how they could weaken the army of the high elves by emotionally hurting the Ranger-General. The attack will leave marks on Sylvanas and weaken the morale of the high elves. Not to mention how huge the impact of Lirath's death would be on Sylvanas. He wanted to break her emotionally.

Nobody will ever understand why he was doing that. He had betrayed his people to save his family but mainly himself. But he also did that to hurt Sylvanas because she had arrested him, hit him in the face years ago and because she had something with his son. By hurting her, he indirectly hurt Kelrian as well. That meant he could punish him for taking away his family.

"I HAVE TO DO NOTHING!" he roared out. The colour of his eyes turned dark purple and his hands started to glow in the same colour.

"He is a shadow priest," warned Zendarin before he was hit by a shadow bolt. He collided with the wall, losing consciousness as he landed on the ground. Lireesa looked at her nephew, then she looked at her son whose eyes were widened as well. He tried to get up but the shadow priest lifted him up without touching him and flung him against the wall. Lireesa whined and screamed as she rushed to her son, who became weaker quicker than expected.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" she screamed as she reached her son and lifted his upper body up.

"No, I know exactly what I'm doing. I've never planned on helping him," he responded, a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"How can you do this? He did nothing wrong to you. He is an innocent child. How can you do this to him?" she screamed. More tears ran down her cheeks which fell on her robe and on the ground. She pressed her hands on his wounds, staring into Lirath's eyes. The more blood he lost, the weaker their glow became.

Lireesa was churned up, shocked, angry and full of hate. She couldn't believe that this criminal was on free foot and refused to heal her son. He was killing him by doing nothing. He had knocked out Zendarin for no reason and he watched her son die slowly for no reason.

She didn't want to lose Lirath. She didn't want to lose the youngest of her children. She didn't want to lose any of her children. She wished she could help him, heal him, save him somehow. But there was nothing she could do for him. The only one who could save Lirath was Xenarion who regarded mother and son with a satisfied grin on his lips.

"This is nothing personal," he said as he came closer. "It's right that he has done nothing wrong. He is innocent but I'm not doing this to hurt you or him. I do this to hurt your whore of a daughter. Sylvanas Windrunner interfered in my business and now she pays for that. That will teach her a lesson to never interfere in my family matters," he responded, looking at the sobbing woman who was kneeling next to her son, witnessing how he was becoming weaker and weaker. She wasn't able to prevent that more blood was flowing out nor could she prevent that his strength left him slowly.

He was dying and there was nothing she could do to prevent that. She looked into Lirath's eyes, whispering soothing words to him. She knew it was time to say goodbye but she didn't want to say goodbye. She didn't want to lose him, didn't want him to be gone. But there was nothing she could do to change his fate.

Lirath whispered her name before his eyes stopped to glow and his body became limp. Lireesa pressed her head on the chest of her dead son, sobbing loudly.

Xenarion walked away, the corners of his lips formed a mischievous grin. The cries and shouts of Lireesa Windrunner were music to his ears. "That happens when someone messes around with me," he muttered as he left Windrunner Spire behind him.