Chapter 3

The journey to Ashenvale was quite exhausting, but she managed it in a day and a half. She was now a couple of miles north of Astranaar, very close to the supposed meeting place with the soldiers. The sun was just beginning its journey west and the air was dry and humid. A storm brewed on the horizon. Tyrande quickened her pace, she wanted to reach the camp before the storm hits.

It could be a great cover for their ambush, the storm. Surely a bunch of deserters and traitors would not have enough discipline to patrol their camp during a storm.

Finally, she came upon a small clearing. She stayed in the bushes, watching like a seasoned huntress she was. To her surprise, there was no camp of soldiers, nor any tracks or remains of a camp as far as she could tell. Could it be, that they were all ambushed and taken? No, deserters would not hide their tracks this well.

She continued watching the clearing for three hours, patiently sitting in the bushes, listening to every sound of the forest, trying to find those, that would stick out to her trained ears. If there was someone here, they were probably doing the same, staying without motion and listening. It may be a trap, she thought, Saerion sent me here, to get captured. Well, with him everything is sexual in nature, so not only captured, surely.

She caught herself being excited by that idea. Normally it would surprise her, but their last encounter woke something within her. Something only Illidan knew how to wake up and put to slumber. But Illidan was not here, nor was Malfurion. It was just her and she will have to manage.

With a deep breath and weapons at a ready, she finally stepped out into the clearing, waiting to be either greeted or ambushed. A moment passed before she heard the rustle of leaves on the other side of the clearing. Three figures emerged – three wardens, to her surprise.

How did these elite warriors and hunters fit into all this, she thought.

They greeted her silently and waved at her to follow, leading her away from the clearing, into the thick growth in which, they set up a small camp.

“We are glad, you came, high priestess.” said one of the wardens, an older woman, judging from her voice. She was clearly the leader of the three. Her slender body was taut and ready, as was usual with the wardens. The other two – a man and a woman, were younger, moving with swiftness and carelessness of youth. The woman was of generous shapes and Tyrande’s gaze lingered on her for a bit, before studying the man. Strong, broad shoulders, probably in his first millennium. Their faces were covered, only the leader showed herself. Piercing silver eyes, strict features, hair braided into a tight braid, lips pressed into a line and a stern gaze that studied Tyrande’s white and silver armor.

“You are late.” she said.

“I was here three hours ago, but the clearing was empty, so I waited.” replied Tyrande. She knew this would humiliate them, since she was there for three hours and they didn’t notice her, but it was necessary to remind them, who she was. “So, where are they and how many there are?” she said when her words achieved the desired effect.

“About two dozen or more, human, orc, elven as far as we saw. They set up camp in a roadside inn, three miles from here, but they don’t patrol the surrounding area,” said the younger woman. Her voice was soft, but it hid something ... some sort of sadness, “But there probably are more, we have seen some leave and others bring supplies. I don’t think they will stay here for long.”

Tyrande studied her movements. Trained, but nervous. This surely wasn’t her first assignment, otherwise, she would not be allowed to wield the signature warden glaive, so what was she nervous about?

“What approach do you advise?” asked Tyrande, not addressing the question to anyone.

“Wait till nightfall, then sneak in and slit the throats of everyone we can, before they wake up. Then we just kill the rest.” said the older woman. She showed no hesitation in her voice or mannerisms.

“I agree,” said Tyrande “We wait, maybe the storm could hide our approach.”

“You can rest for a bit,” said the older woman “The young one will hold guard.”

Tyrande nodded. She was tired, that was true, but she wanted a different kind of rest than sleep. With the excitement and expectation of battle ahead, there was almost no chance she could fall asleep without a release.

She found a spot covered in soft moss and lay there with her back toward the wardens. The older woman went to rest as well, while the young ones split up, darting into the growth to hold guard. As silently as she could, Tyrande moved her hand down her armor and cupped her sex.

She sought no self-pleasure, instead, she just wanted to feel herself in her hand. Only then she realized how tired she actually was.

Despite her expectations sleep took her almost instantly.

“Find your pleasures when you can,” said Illidan as he held her in his arms, “But remember, pleasure can be used for control. You should always stay in control, no matter the pleasure.”

It was their last night together, before ... before she lost him forever. Despite everything she felt tears form in her eyes as he held her tightly.

Would she change anything about her life, if she could? She wasn’t sure. Despite their ritual of seeking pleasure before battle and release after, this time they were just together. The entire night, just holding each other and talking. As if they knew it would be their last.

The thought crossed her mind at a time, of course, but she was used to the sense of danger. If only she knew back then. Would she make love to him one last time?