Chapter 3: ...and out

Lainné woke up in darkness.

She couldn’t tell how much she had been unconscious…just that she lay down by a stone wall covered in ivy. A thick woolen cloak was swaddled around her shoulders. It felt warm and good at first, but queasiness settled in as soon as she tried to move her head.

The world suddenly started to spin. Lainné pressed her temple against the stone, swallowing hard. Her stomach heaved but she managed somehow to hold its contents down. She inched her head away from the coolness of the wall, blinking often to adjust to the surrounding blackness.
Steadying herself with both palms on the ground she started to rise slowly, then stopped abruptly.

The cloak in which she was swathed was not hers. The thought seemed to float into her precarious awareness. With unsteady fingers she touched the weave, sniffing cautiously at the same time. It was thick, lined with silk and the scent was foreign, even if not unpleasant. It smelled faintly of wood smoke, soap and light perfume. A man’s scent.

The second thing that crossed her mind was that she was still in Stromgarde. The waning moon high in the sky gave only a pale light, enough though to distinguish the two-storied houses that lay in ruin along deserted streets.

She started to rise again and this time she stopped short of crying out when a strong arm closed around her waist.

“Easy now… I’m sure you don’t want to scream…not here.”

The voice whispering into her ear was low and controlled yet fierce. The hairs on her neck stood on end as Lainné struggled uselessly to free herself from that iron-like grip. The only thing she achieved though was to stir the sickness rolling inside her stomach.

Now she recognized the sensation. The aftermath of a warlock’s curse.
A sudden spasm made her tense, breathing unevenly. She stifled her whimper. Whoever the man behind her was it was preferable to a horde of Syndicate assassins.

“That’s it”, the voice said in the same quiet tone. “we don’t want the patrol on us…”

“Who…”
She tried to turn her head enough to see the man behind her. An elf, of that she was sure. Perfectly spoken Common, of course, but it was impossible to mistake the accent, that manner of rolling the consonants specific to the more melodic language which was Thalassian. In the dim light the moon gave she could make out hardened features and green eyes fixed on her, in silent assessment. That gaze held the coldness of death.

But then if he wanted to kill her, why go through the effort of hauling her unconscious weight to the relative safety of that hiding place - and cover her in his cloak to keep warm besides?
Lainné swallowed again; beads of sweat formed on her brow. He held her so tightly that she could feel the hilt of a dagger pressed in between her ribs.

“What do you want from me?” she managed awkwardly. Her neck hurt from the uncomfortable position, so she shifted a little, trying to ease the tension in her muscles without breaking eye contact.

“Right now…just get out of this rat trap”. The man seemed to ponder her words for a second. “Can you walk?”

“Stupid question” she muttered. If only he would allow her to move…He seemed to somehow guess her thoughts, because he released the grip on her waist. Lainné took in a shuddering breath, before trying to work her way up to a sitting position. She toppled forward and had to place both palms on the ground to keep herself from falling on her face.

“Not really, but’ll have to do”, he muttered. “If only I didn’t…Too late now. They’re on alert, so there’s no chance to get what I need…” He stopped abruptly and bit his lips. Those eyes were so cold, piercing her to the bone. “Don’t matter. Just talking out loud. Stupid habit.” He hauled her to her feet and Lainné had to fight again the urge to just throw up. “Come. There is a gate in the inner wall…the way I came.”

They could not move very fast with her as she was, struggling to stand on wobbling knees. Strangely enough, the man supported her. They took careful steps, all the time keeping low, under the protective shadow of the houses. Where they had to cross streets, they would stop and peer both ways before darting again to shelter. It was a painful journey made even more difficult by the moonlight. Dim as it was, it was enough for a patrol to notice them, should they come too close.

Lainné tried hard not to think what would happen once they were outside the city walls. Weakened as she was, it was doubtful she could put up much of a fight if he suddenly decided it was better to kill her after all. The enmity between the elves and their former allies was bitter…though the reasons were explained differently from side to side. The Alliance would pretend the survivors of Quel’Thalas had pledged their loyalty to demons and the wretched nagas…the elves would say Lord Garithos had gladly abandoned them to the Scourge.

The gate to which he led her was small, barely enough for one person to get through at a time. She squeezed through and he followed. Spikes of pain crossed her skull with every move…she had to stop, leaning heavily against his shoulder.

“This is it”, the man spoke encouragingly. “I know it hurts like hell.” He smoothed her hair and she realized the cowl of her robe had slipped. It was an odd gesture...nothing one would expect from an enemy. Gritting her teeth she stumbled forward. Bridges ran overhead, connecting the towers that dominated the fortification and rough, half rotten wooden stairs climbed towards the platforms on top of the inner wall.

In the old times, it was a place of desperate defense, should the enemies pass over the moat and the outer fortifications. Now it lay quiet and deserted.

Without fear of watchful eyes, they ran as fast as Lainné’s waning strength allowed to the last obstacle that barred their way. This time it was a stout wooden gate, reinforced with iron bars, that also served to keep it locked. It creaked faintly as the man pushed it aside. The moon was angling westwards now and there was not the faintest ray of light to allow her see his expression. The opening was even narrower than the previous one – Lainné could barely push herself through. He followed immediately - a cat sneaking through a fence. The cool breeze of the sea enveloped her as soon as she was on the other side. Lainné gulped at it hungrily, head still spinning with pain.

Suddenly she felt she was falling. She definitely would have if it weren’t for the arms that caught her, lifting her easily.

“Don’t struggle” she heard him say. “You’re still not going anywhere.”
Pain made her too weak to protest as the elf carried her up the slope.