Heart of Ice

Hello folks, this is my second long fic. Is it related to the first (Pure of Heart)? Yes with a but. It is but not in an immediately obvious way. I am also trying something new here, time jumping. Not that our heroes travel in time, but that the story is told rather out of order.

Please Read and Review!

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The cold of Icecrown was like no other. The chill of death was here, it permeated the land, the air, the ice, everything. No amount of clothing or fire could keep it out, and here, at the Court of Bones, it shot straight to the soul.

The rider of the flying beast which was now touching down near the Cathedral was at least glad at the reassurance that she still had a soul to be chilled. Her robes, dark and at first unremarkable seemed powerless to keep out the cold, even if magic danced all over them. A closer inspection would have revealed powerful glyphs, seeming to move like shadows over her body. Her face was mostly covered, except for a space for her piercing green eyes. As soon as she landed and dismissed her mount, a large, dog-like creature with enormous jaws, scales and tentacles appeared seemingly from no where, to take up position behind her.

Her green eyes glowed as she scanned the Cathedral from this distance. Cultists seemed to cover it, she noted without surprise. Why not? She thought, today was a special day. She didn't need to kill them all, just one, so she could slip in unnoticed. Given the amount of dark magics coming off her, she thought with a silent chuckle, they would barely notice her presence.

One of the cultists was moving off she noted, probably to take a piss, but whatever the reason, now was her chance. She moved in a bit closer, and began channeling the shadows to her, building up dark energy to start her work.


Six days earlier in Dalaran


Lyeald sat in The Filthy Animal, drinking a glass of wine and taking a moment to relax. It was the first time in months that she had been able to do this, and she wasn't going to rush it. After trekking to Icecrown and aiding the Argent Crusaders take the breach and then the pinnacle, she had then been pressed into service by both the Ebon Blade and Warsong Offensive. Koltira Deathweaver, whom she had met in Dragonsblight before, had had her rushing around, mainly to secure the Shadow Vault and to destroy several plans of the Cult of the Damed, before admitting that he had run out of stuff for her to do. She had seized the opportunity to take a break and flew directly to Dalaran.

She had wanted to go back to Silvermoon City, but Koltira had asked her to not stray too far, since it wouldn't be too long before he needed her again. Dalaran would do, she thought, and she hadn't had a chance to explore it before, though right now all she wanted to do was drink and sleep. Once her room was booked she was glad to have taken off her traveling clothes and change into something more comfortable, a simple lavender dress she always kept with her.

Looking in the mirror, she was startled to see that she had almost forgotten what she looked like. Her almost pitch black hair, which was usually in a bun on her head, was now loose and falling past her waist, framing her pale face in a stark contrast. Her features were sharp, serious, moreso in the past couple of years she mused. She appeared to be quite delicate, especially when compared with those of her kind who chose more physical pursuits, but this belied an inner strength that put all of them to shame. Dealing with the forces of the Burning Legion and bending them to the will was not for the faint of heart.

Other Blood Elves strove to tap the arcane for their addiction, she had chosen a different path. The powers of shadow, of the dark forces just beyond their world, they had called to her, that day when she saw her beautiful city destroyed by the Scourge. Anger and vengeance had burned in her heart, giving her the strength to take that path, to use the very forces that would destroy this world to reap her revenge upon the Scourge.

She shook her head and tried not to think of that day, of the Scourge, the Burning Legion, or any of the other great powers threatening her world at the moment. Revenge had been her only concern for years, and she had burnt a bloody path to become strong enough to come here. Once in Northrend she had tirelessly fought the Scourge, securing the presence of the Horde and diminishing their numbers. It was only now, that she had reached the very core of their hold on this world, that fatigue had begun to sink in. There was so many undead to kill, she was beginning to feel a sense of hopelessness about the future of her world.

All she needed was a few days rest, she decided, and she would be able to get back to her main purpose in life. With that thought in mind she finished off her drink and asked for something a bit stronger.

“Be careful wit dis one mon, she look small but she ken drink ya under tha table.”

Lyeald froze for a second before turning around slowly to see him. He was a troll, tall and lanky, with the usual tribal markings all over his face and chest. His dark green hair blended with his aqua skin, which always made her think he belonged in the ocean. It was big and bushy, but secured as much as possible behind his head. He was dressed simply, as she was, but the last time she had seen him, he had had a nasty long bladed sword and an impressive set of armor.

“Cer'ango,” she said, smirking saucily, “what a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

He smiled, flashing his sharp teeth at her, and sat down next to her at the bar, “I certainly wasn't expectin to see you either my girl, what are the chances anh?”

“Given your predisposition to be in a drunken state, I would say pretty good.”

“Ja,” he answered laughing heartily, “but yer all work, whatreyou doing slacking off like dis?”

“Taking a break, believe it or not, even I need to stop every now and then and recharge.”

“Ja, I hear ya, I been in Zul'drak tryin to keep da trolls dere from overrunnin the Crusaders,” he said taking a swig from the beer the barkeep had produced in a hurry without him even having to ask, “finally got em runnin, so I was cut loose. Lookin for the next job.”

“I'm waiting for the next one out of Icecrown,” she said, surprised by her lack of enthusiasm.

He shuddered, “Ja, I hear dat be a bad place mon, I'll be makin my way up dere, but I ain't in no hurry.”

She didn't respond, but looked pensively at her new drink, which had remained untouched. What was this funk she was in? It used to be that the prospect of destroying anything filled her with energy, now she couldn't even muster it up to wipe out her most hated enemy.

Cer'ango didn't comment on this, but instead finished up his drink quickly, seemingly oblivious to it drizzling down his his jaw and chest. He put down the stein and let out a tremendous belch that she was sure would have caused a quake, had they been on solid ground and not in a city floating in the air. He winked at her and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Whats say we make the most of this break time, eh?” he asked, getting close to her ear.

She let herself smile, finally she found something she could get excited about.