6. Finding a Way

They moved out of the cathedral found at the end of Deadwind Pass. Ataris had come to them and given them instructions on how to bring him back. No one must know what had happened to their Darkmaster, or things would be even more grim. Some of their numbers had already departed in search of the reagents that would be needed in the ritual. Those that remained Shagrath called in turn... except Fenuviel. Fenuviel paused on the stairway, hearing the others climb onto their mounts. For a moment there was silence, and Fenuviel shifted uncomfortably, wondering if his Master would speak to him, or if they would simply leave him behind as usual.

He could almost feel Shagrath's angry gaze boring into him.

"I have no use for blind..." the Shadowlord trailed off. Fenuviel's shoulders sagged slightly as he withdrew back a step, frowning. He wished for a moment that Shagrath would have simply left him there instead of reminding him of his 'uselessness'. But before he could speak, a human voice piped up. Nathen.
"Shut it, Shagrath," he snapped. Fenuviel's lips parted in silent surprise at Soulblaze's boldness. Not only was he merely an Awakened One, but Shagrath was his master! If he hadn't been mounted, Fenuviel was sure Shagrath would have slapped him then and there.

"What was that...?" Shagrath responded slowly, and Fenuviel could feel the anger and tension in his voice, making him want to shudder where he stood. Though Fenuviel was thankful for Nathen standing up for him, as he had done in the past, he knew it would only lead to trouble.
"Nathen, let it go. He's right," Fenuviel called out quickly.
"As you wish, Fenuviel..."

And then they rode off. Fenuviel heaved a sigh into the dark silence as he fished into his pack for his hearthstone.

Within moments, he had returned to the bustling capital of Stormwind. Safe, but feeling even more wretched than before. If he could not serve his Master, he had no purpose at all! It was a horrible feeling for one who had devoted his life entirely to serve one person.

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Bloodshards, held by the servants of Agamaggan. At least he had been useful enough to know where to find these servants, though Shagrath hadn't seemed to care much for this small contribution of knowledge. He had sent Ageha to gather them. Ten of them, to be precise. Damn it all, he would get them first!

When the others had taken their rest, Fenuviel had managed to book passage to Ratchet. The Barrens, that was where it was easiest to find them. He wasn't quite sure how he would manage this, but he had to. He had to. He would prove to his master that he could still act with his other senses, even when sight failed. Clinging precariously to the back of his frostsaber, he was carried out through the plains. Soon he heard the familiar pig like sounds of the Razormanes and commanded the feline to stop.

He had chosen the night time for one reason. He knew that his animal companion would have to be more of a help than ever before now, and in the darkness was when it hunted the best. Illusion, he had called it, a bat. This was its time. But he wanted to test his skills himself, not let the creature do all the work for him. He had managed to instruct the bat to fly by one of the Razormanes and let out one of its clicking calls. Fenuviel's ears still worked well, perhaps even better than before. Fenuviel readied his bow slowly, taking his time to carefully knock an arrow.

He gripped the bow string with two fingers then, pulling it back in preparation. Then, the Elf gave a nod.

He heard the flap of the bat's leathery wings as it glided through the air. There was a moment's pause, and then he heard it. A small screech from his right. In his mind he could picture exactly where it came from, and turned himself so that the arrow lined up in his mind where the sound had come from. He heard too a squeal of the Razormane as it seemed confused by what had just flown past it. Its puzzlement was soon ended as an arrow shot through its throat, silencing it before it could make another sound. Fenuviel made his way towards where he had heard the creature fall, kneeling down to feel blindly across the ground till he found the corpse. The Elf rifled through its pouches till he found a pair of shards. He ran his fingers over them, testing their shape and texture. He was sure they were Bloodshards. Excellent.

Together, he and the bat picked off the last stragglers of the night that had yet to make it into their camps to sleep. Nine bloodshards, he counted as he rifled through the most recent kill's pouch, searching for just one more.

In the sound of rustling cloth, and his own blood pounding in his ears from adrenaline, Fenuviel had failed to hear a faint scuffling behind him as one of the guards had roused from slumber. There was a sharp blow on the back of his head, and Fenuviel let out a cry as he fell forward, gripping at where he had been struck.

He rolled quickly onto his back, reaching grab the hilt of his sword, unsure where the attacker was. And then he heard the enraged shrieking squeal of the Razormane, but it was too late to swing his blade before he felt a dagger slam into his shoulder. He was sure the beast had aimed for his heart, wretched creature! Fenuviel let out a cry of pain as he kicked upwards, praying to hit anything at all to get the Razormane away. His boot connected with the creature's stomach, sending it to the ground as well. Fenuviel scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword and holding it defensively before him. The beast couldn't get away from him now, for they were hardly silent when they moved, and the squealing was enough to tell Fenuviel exactly where it stood. He could hear the fabric of its clothing rustle sharply as it lunged forward again, and Fenuviel swung his sword outward in an arch. To his surprise, he managed to parry the oncoming blow! This moment of shock was enough to give the beast an opportunity to retaliate though, and so the two continued their scuffle. By the time the Elf had slain the Razormane, the sound of their fight had woken another. Just as he was regaining his breath and strength to stand, the Elf felt a blade in his back, and let out a howl of anger and pain. But finally Illusion had returned, heralded by a sharp shriek.

Fenuviel fell forward onto the ground, listening to the shrieks and clicks of the bat, and the wild squealing of the Razormane, though slowly the squeals died away.

Fenuviel sighed quietly, but lay where he had fallen. He knew he was too far to hope to find or reach his saber, and he heard the flapping leathery wings of his companion growing more and more distant. Damn you. Leaving me here to die, like the rest? The Elf let his muscles relax in defeat, still clutching tightly the pouch of bloodshards in one hand even as he drifted out of consciousness.

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Fenuviel's head rolled back as he was lifted by the shoulders. He felt a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin, and then tapping, trying to wake him. He was vaguely aware of this, though it took a moment before he realized he had been unconscious to begin with. He jolted awake and gazed upwards to see the one holding him up. Yes. He saw.

Staring now, he found himself staring up at an Elf woman. Her face was kind and gentle, and she peered at him curiously, her lips drawn downwards in a concerned manner. Her silver hair spilled about her face and shoulders as she looked down at him, the moon reflecting upon it to make give an almost hazy halo to her.

"Can you stand?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, soft, and yet still firm. There was at once kindness about her, and yet at the same time, a sense of power behind that encouraged him not to trifle with her. Fenuviel didn't reply, but slowly got to his feet, shakily. He stumbled to one of his knees, but she placed her hands on his shoulders to steady him. Fenuviel sighed and looked back up to her. He tried to focus, but no matter how he tried, his vision seemed to be clouded with strange shadows. She smiled slowly as she saw him struggling to focus his sight.
"Did you… heal me?" Fenuviel asked after a pause. She gave a slight nod, still supporting him slightly as he remained on his knees.
"I did. I assume it was your bat that kept circling about me... wouldn't leave me alone till I followed it," she replied with a warm chuckle. She moved one hand to touch his face, tracing strange lines moving from his eyes to his cheek. Fenuviel shuddered when she did, frowning in confusion.
"Did you..?" he began, but she cut him off.
"I was curious, so I removed the bandage, yes. I restored your sight, in a way. Your eyes were damaged almost beyond repair," she responded, looking down at him almost coldly for a moment. The priestess turned then, for her spotted frostsaber stood behind her. Gracefully she mounted it, her robes flowing in the faint breeze. She looked back down to Fenuviel before reaching down, taking hold of his arm. The woman pulled him up with surprising determination, and helped him into the saddle behind her.
The ranger realized she was watching him with a hard stare, as though trying to read his thoughts, though offered a smile when he caught her. "I could have killed you, you know. Or simply left you to rot. I had every reason too, after what your comrades have done to my dearest ones," she murmured quietly, but with surprising gentleness. With that, she turned her head away from him, looking forward as she urged the saber to ride.

She told him her name was Sonora Silverbough, and she called herself not a priestess, but a 'Keeper'. When he asked her what she was a Keeper of, she had responded simply with 'Neutrality'. She spoke not a single word more for the rest of the journey. On the boat from Ratchet, Fenuviel drifted quickly into sleep before he could ask her anything more. When he awoke, he was in Stormwind, alone once more.