A Short Story by Ennie

[MoonSage]

A Short Story by Ennie
(by Bethany Rae Jensen)

I may as well have fallen off the edge of the world. How could I have been so reckless? If there was a stupider woman in Azeroth I did not want to meet her. I had only wanted to practice my rock climbing skills...and win a gold piece for showing up DeMarc - who swore on his mother’s grave I couldn’t do it. Not that I think DeMarc ever had a mother.

So, with a small crowd of well-wishers cheering from below, I set out to scale the cliffs north of town. It had been quite a challenge; I had to chose my route carefully and the ascent had taken all morning. I had just reached the summit of the lowest ridge when I had the audacity to fall off...on the wrong side. It was really a miracle that I had survived at all, let alone that I escaped with little more than a bruised ankle. As I gazed back up at the cliff I didn’t know how it happened. Maybe I had managed to roll just right as I hit the ground. Or maybe it was not as high of a fall as it definitely looked like from here. At any rate, there was no way to get back up. This cliff could have been the model whereby the word cliff had been defined. There were no holds, no slopes - only a sheer black wall that stretched out for miles in either direction. I doubt if an insect could have gotten up it.

Now I found myself in the most foreboding place imaginable. The sky was red and the ground was black. There were no plants - only rock, and plenty of it. The air smelled of charred rubber. The lack of humidity coupled with a stifling heat gave the feeling of being caught in a giant oven. Already, I had managed to moisten my apparel with a healthy layer of sweat.

In order to lighten the load during the climb, I had emptied my pack of almost everything, but that was irrelevant since I lost the pack during the fall. Consequently, the only things I had with me were my sword and a small cloak. And worst all, I had no sense of direction. Home was less than five miles away, but I might as well have been on the lesser moon. Blasted cliff. There was nothing to be done. I chose a direction and started walking.

I had taken only a step or two when I caught sight of a great lumbering shape ahead of me. It was sniffing the ground and clawing at something it had found there. The creature was the shape and consistency of a dog, but was about three times the size. I quickly ducked back behind the nearest rock and held my breath. Luckily, the creature had its back to me and had not noticed. I had faced dangerous opponents before, but I knew I was no match for a wolfbeast of this size. It would kill me before I could raise my sword. I waited until it finished pawing the ground and wandered far off before I reemerged.

I was exceedingly cautious as I made my way along the cliff face. The going was slow because I spent most of my time ducking from one rock pile to another. As I traveled, I caught glimpses of other terrifying creatures: a giant scorpid, a flaming rock man, more wolfbeasts...none of which I could have had any hope of defeating in direct combat. This was not a place for me. This was a place where only the most seasoned of adventurers might venture and live. And I was about as unseasoned as they come.

I wished desperately I were back at the inn, enjoying a warm mug of ale alongside a few amiable companions. In town the worst thing I had to worry about where the gnolls on the hillside. We would go kill the gnolls when we got bored or when they ventured a little too close to the settlement and had to be driven back. There are no gnolls here, I thought dryly. If there were, the wolfbeasts would have eaten them all by now.

I traveled this way for several hours, wishing I had a rogue’s talent for disappearing into shadows. If only I could come across a band of Alliance outriders! But the chances of that, I knew, were slim. It was just as likely I might run into a band of Horde, I thought with a shudder. This was contested territory, which meant anyone who got caught here was fair game as far as our treaties went.

I kept walking, knowing that to stop was to invite destruction. Though how long I could keep this up I did not know. My head was swimming from the heat and lack of water. Soon I would become delirious. “Lack of preparation is the most tragic cause of defeat,” I heard Master Shen say in my head, a little too loudly. I nodded subserviently. He would make me do extra drills for the lapse in judgment. ...Perhaps I was already delirious.

I did not even have time to turn around when I heard the low growl of the wolfbeast that attacked me. A hard blow threw me to the ground, and I barely managed to roll away as the creature lunged for my throat. I kicked it as hard as I could, throwing myself to my feet in the same movement. I drew my sword and gave a cry of rage as I slashed at the head of snarling fur. Unlike the gnolls, this wolfbeast was not intimidated. It brushed aside my attack with hardly a glance and threw its giant paw against my body. The claws ripped through my armor as though it were made of paper. I felt them sink into my ribcage. Oblivious to pain, oblivious to everything but the heat of battle, I kept on flinging my weapon zealously (however futilely) against the heaving muscle of my attacker. Very quickly, the beast succeeded in knocking me down a second time and I had the fleeting flash of insight that all warriors are lucky if they receive before it happens - that I was going to die. I looked up once more at the wolfbeast, and all of a sudden it burst into flames.

The creature’s eyes widened in pain or shock and it shuddered briefly as it shook the flames off its back. For an incident of spontaneous combustion, it was very timely. There only a moment to be surprised before I saw the tall figure in the distance that was already nurturing another sphere of light in its hands. The wolfbeast whirled around and sped towards this new opponent, leaving only the stench of singed flesh in its wake.

The wolfbeast never even reached its goal. Its stride was cut short by a ray of ice and then frozen when it might have been within striking distance. The beast howled in dismay as the mage (for a mage it certainly was) continued to reign down fire and magic upon the beast until it died miserably in a last shower of purple sparks. I could only watch this scene in escalating horror. I told myself to run, but could not manage it - partly due to my wounds, partly because I was in shock. Besides, I knew that running would not save me.

The mage inspected its kill briefly, then began to saunter slowly over in my direction. I had seen only one specimen of Horde before in my lifetime and that had been dead at the time - an orc who had wandered too far from its ranks and been shot down by the guard patrol near my village. Besides a certain similarity in hue, these two had nothing common in appearance. It was tall, slender, with wild hair and pointed ears. A troll. As it got closer, I realized it was a female, though that hardly made it less daunting. The troll did not appear agitated in any way by my presence. It moved steadily, almost indifferently, but kept its eyes on me nonetheless. When it was close enough, it crouched down and looked me straight in the face. I looked back, not daring to do more and not allowing myself to do less. The troll’s eyes were red and glistening with the force of strong magic. I would have preferred to die by the wolfbeast than to be struck down by the enemy as I lay helpless. My only solace was my conviction that the troll would get no satisfaction from seeing me beg. It continued to stare at me for what seemed a very long time. There was nothing but the sound of my own heavy breathing and time for me to wonder abstractly whether it would be more painful to be burnt to a crisp or frozen solid.

Finally it spoke. Gods know what it said. It’s voice was sharp and low, its language a smattering of exotic sounds - clicks and intonations. After a few phrases, it stopped and chuckled softly.

“Vatoka,” it said, pointing to the carcass of the wolfbeast. “Ta’jeki ta ko Vatoka,” and laughed again.

The troll slid a bag from its shoulder and drew out a roll of cloth. As it reached towards me I remembered I was still holding my sword and I started to raise it defensively.

“Ta!” the green figure cried in a tone of reprimand, pushing my sword arm back down to the ground. It held the cloth up for me to see. “Ero ta nekku.”

The troll proceeded to wrap the cloth around my wounds, chattering all the while in its intelligible tongue. I was too dumbfounded to protest. Moreover, my foe seemed to be an excellent medic. There was an ointment of some kind or other on the bandage which made the pain go away almost immediately. The troll finished the job quickly and sat back on its heels.
“Kyra,” it said, slapping itself on the chest. “Kyra.” Then it put its hand on my own chest and waited. I was taken aback and it took me a moment to realize it was asking my name.

“Ennie,” I told it. The troll made a face. “Enn-ee,” it said, speaking the syllables carefully. I nodded, then realized I had forgotten what it said when it had indicated to itself.

“Uh...Kee..Ki-Ki...”

“Kyra!” it said forcefully.

“Kee-rah,” I repeated.

It nodded brusquely in satisfaction. I hadn’t a clue what to make of this strange woman - if you could call her a woman - but it seemed that, at least for the moment, she did not intend to kill me. My mind suddenly became more agitated. With no hope of life, there was no point in fearing for its loss. Now I found myself yearning for some chance of escape.

The troll offered me a bottle and motioned for me to drink it. Being thirstier than I remembered having ever been before in my life, I prayed that the bottle might contain water as opposed to spirits - or something worse. I was not disappointed. I drank deeply and finished the container in only a few moments.

“Thank you,” I said, handing her back the empty bottle. It would have been inappropriate not to say it. She glanced up and smiled and I wondered if perhaps she had understood me.

After the troll finished putting her bag in order, she stood, and bade me do the same. I had a little trouble, but she grabbed me by the arms and steadied me - firmly, but not roughly, until I had managed it. Once standing, I realized she was more than a whole head taller than me, which was disconcerting since I was generally considered to be a rather tall woman. Kyra patted me on the shoulder and beamed. I got the unnerving feeling that she had just adopted me as her new pet.

“J’anyoda,” she cried, motioning for me to follow her. I briefly considered refusing, but thought better of it. Even if she respected my wish to stay, I knew I could not last long on my own. It was probable the troll intended to lead me to an even worse fate, but I decided my odds for survival were better if I played along for now.

The heat felt less oppressive now that I had had something to drink, but the walking was difficult and I had a hard time keeping up with the long stride of my companion. More than once, she stopped and motioned for me to hurry up.

I wondered if I was getting closer to home or farther away. As we traveled, I kept my eyes on the back of the troll’s robe. Its patterns swirled when she moved in a way that was sort of mesmerizing. The deep blue garment was meticulously embroidered and matched anything I had ever seen in Stormwind for finery. Her staff was equally luxurious - carved as it looked from gold, and glowing bright blue with enchantment. It seemed strange to me that such artifacts should be in possession of a troll, whom I had always imagined as wearing rags and animal furs. I wondered how many valiant heroes she had murdered with that sparkling equipment.

“A mage,” Shen had once told me, in one of my many lessons with the blade, “has no concept of parry and attack. He will strike you from where you cannot reach him and his power is nothing you can block with your shield. Be very careful, Ennie, and do not get into any duels with wizards you do not know well.” What would Shen have thought of this mage? Who wore gear the equal of Jaina Proudmoore and defeated a wolfbeast in less than three strokes...

The scenery changed little as we traveled, but I noticed fewer sightings of wolfbeasts or other creatures. Soon we started up a tall hill. When we reached the summit, I saw that it was flat on top and that the troll had been using it as a base camp. There were the remains of a fire, a makeshift bed, and most strikingly: a humungous green lizard tied to a boulder. The lizard leaped up when it saw the troll and made a braying noise vaguely reminiscent of a goat. Kyra whisked over and began making cooing noises at it. “Daki ta uv’den, Tuka,” she said, patting its nose. She turned to me and pointed at the animal. “Tuka,” she informed me.

I nodded. “Tuka,” I agreed, although I didn’t especially care what its name was. Give me a horse any day, I thought as I eyed the animal up and down. Of course, I wasn’t even close to being able to afford a horse of my own, and in a way I envied the mage’s affluence.

The troll went about her business as usual, but she kept one eye on me, and spoke on occasion - partly to me, partly to herself, I assumed. She started humming to herself as she arranged her things. What is she so happy about, anyway?

Momentarily, she sat down and began forming a spell on the ground in front of her. At first I was alarmed, then I saw she was conjuring up some food. I had seen mages do this many times, but it never got normal. Magic. I did not understand it and I trusted it even less. I had been told by my caster friends that magic was like a sixth sense, that they could feel when it was nearby. I was hardly sensitive to that sort of thing, but even I could feel the shift of atmosphere that permeated the air around the troll. She fairly stunk of magic.

The food she produced, however, looked considerably different from what I’d been given by human mages. She offered me a piece of the dark spongy substance. It occurred to me I didn’t even know what trolls ate. It might have been something terrible, like baked maggots.

Kyra was watching me with interest. I took the piece and sniffed it gingerly. It smelled all right, so I took a tiny bite. To my great relief, it tasted wonderful - like cornbread, only sweeter. I had three pieces and stopped after that only because I was ashamed to ask for me.

My thoughts kept wavering with regards to my rescuer - or captor, or whatever she was. The word Horde was like a bad taste in my mouth that refused to leave even though I didn’t speak it. And yet, she was so strange...so non-hostile. In point of fact, I knew very little about the Horde. I knew that they frequently attacked my people and decimated our lands, that they were guilty of atrocities - many of which I was specifically and personally aware, and that it took the best and bravest efforts of the Alliance to keep them at bay. Beyond that, I could only guess at the motives or eccentricities of this troll. What the heck did she want with me? I was not valuable as a hostage in any way - knowing nothing, and being worth less. I could only imagine that she spared my life out a mild sense of curiosity.

As I was thinking this, I noticed that (unlike most of the terrain below) the earth up here had more sand than rock and would make a fair sketching palate. I knelt down decisively and began clearing a small scratching area. Kyra noticed what I was doing and came to watch. I draw a picture of a few buildings and a bunch of humans. “Home,” I said. “Me,” I said, pointing to myself, “go home. Ennie go home.” I was not a very good artist, but I think she got the idea. She spoke rapidly and made a series of gestures, most of which I did not understand. Then she drew a picture of the sun coming up, which I took to mean we would go tomorrow. I nodded my agreement; I was exhausted in any event.

[MoonSage]

That night I dreamed I was going into battle. Somehow I had gained the rank of Lieutenant-Commander and I was leading a force against the Horde. There were rows and rows of orcs - great green lumpy figures with big axes, all of them howling for blood. Behind them was something even more terrible. A mass of living bones - the resuscitated shells of what had once been people, still dripping in what was left of their flesh: the undead. From all sides came the first waves of destruction - arrows and long range spells, and then the two armies collided. It was like the joining of two oceans, except that instead of the waves settling together after the crash, they just built up in a wall of dead bodies.

There were more of them then us. All around me I could see my soldiers falling. The Horde showed no mercy. They would wipe us out to the last man. “Keep fighting!” I yelled to the troops. But my people didn’t listen. They started to turn and run away. No one made it very far. Everyone who tried to run was instantly stuck down by some invisible force that came from the sky. There was screaming and blood all around me. I tried to keep fighting, but the Horde were just laughing now. They didn’t even bother to fight back. I swung, but I couldn’t hit them; they seemed to be covered in force fields. “Ha ha ha, stupid humans!” they shouted. I turned my head and saw her - the troll mage with burning eyes. She shot a fireball at me and I died.

I woke up late in the night with a start. The air was quiet. The heat seemed to have died down in the darkness. In fact, it was almost cold. I rolled over and spotted the troll only a few feet away. She seemed almost peaceful, her sharp features dulled by sleep. My hand moved instinctively to the place where I had lain my sword last night and I found it was not there. Oh well, she could not have been that stupid. I noticed the green lizard was staring at me. It snorted and shook its head, as if to say it knew what I was thinking and that I’d better not try anything.
“I wasn’t going to,” I whispered at it. Then I rolled back over and waited for sleep to take me again.

When I awoke the second time, the troll was singing some sort of strange lullaby. It took me a moment to remember where I was. For a second I thought I must have fallen asleep in chapel. But the voice was not quite right for chapel. It was too low, and had a slight raspy quality to it, but it was pretty just the same. Of course, the words were all wrong. She stopped as soon as I sat up.

“Ennie dijo’me ta ko valji,” she said smiling.

“Yea,” I got up slowly, wincing from the soreness of sleeping on hard ground and of being in a fight the previous day. “If you say so.” My sword, I saw, had been returned to its previous spot. I took it and refastened it onto my belt. Kyra did not seem to notice. I was not a threat to her. Not while she was awake anyway.

“I’m hungry,” I said. “Is there anything to eat?” I made a show of pretending to eat something, so she would know what I was talking about.
The troll nodded and pointed to a stone on which was resting some more of the black bread, and also a block of yellow cheese. I assumed she had already eaten, so I sat down to enjoy myself.

Kyra’s lap was covered with swatches of cloth that she was busily sewing together with fine thread. Apparently trolls could be tailors. I could see the workmanship of her craft was very fine, as was the material. “Does that sell for a lot?” I asked her. She glanced up from her work and smiled at me, but ignored the question, as of course she had to. I stared at the troll as I ate, wondering if I could ever get used to the strangeness her appearance. She was so...green.

The lizard had disappeared. I looked around, but could not see it anywhere nearby. I wondered if perhaps it had run off. “Tuka,” I mentioned to Kyra, indicating the boulder where it had been last night. “Where did it go?” The mage smiled and used her arm to make a puppet of Tuka, with her fist as the head and her wrist as the neck. Then she showed it bounding along with the head bobbing up and down like a fishing buoy. “Tuka ta eroji mikk da’jo.” She made the model jump up and catch something in its mouth, then made a series of crunching noises. Mmmhmmh mhhmmn, she hummed. Together with the expression on her face - as if she had swallowed something much too large for her and was enjoying it thoroughly - it was the funniest thing I had ever seen.

I burst out laughing, unfortunately while in the middle of a mouthful, so that I strew bits of bread all over the ground. The troll must have thought that was funny, because she joined me in an array of witchy convulsive laughter. Her laugh was so outlandish it made me laugh even more, and this brought one of those ridiculous cycles of laughter, which, if you have ever experienced, you know what I am talking about. I laughed until my side hurt.

I felt better after that; it was good to laugh. All the stress and anxiety of yesterday seemed farther away. I almost liked this troll - with her overabundance of animated mirth. Suddenly I felt guilty for having hated her so much before. She had saved my life, as I recalled now. And she had promised to help me get home (sort of). I was renewed with a sense of faith that this might actually happen.

Kyra packed up right after breakfast, rolling her belongings into sacks and loading the sacks onto Tuka, who had quickly found his way back. Since I had nothing to carry, I watched the process with detached interest. Kyra offered to let me ride Tuka - a proposal that seemed about as distasteful to him as it did to me. With a vehement shake of the head, I assured her that I was fit for walking. Then we started down the way we had come up.

Kyra walked ahead of me with Tuka at her side. I kept a couple dozen paces behind her. She looked back only once to see that I was following her. We had not traveled very far, when I heard the sound of a shriek, like a war cry, and saw a shadowy figure leap down from a high boulder, grab Kyra around the middle, and lift her up in the air. Stunned, I started for my sword - in her defense I think, although what I could have done to help, I cannot say.

I soon realized it was not necessary. Kyra was not upset. She was laughing. It was another troll (this one decidedly male) who had seized her and was now calling her by name. He started to spin her around, but only got about half a turn because he stopped when he saw me. His eyes went wide in surprise and he dropped Kyra in order to draw his sword. Kyra stopped him and spoke animatedly, gesturing to me, and telling him to put the sword away. The new troll did not seem to agree with her. I stood there dumbly as they proceeded to have a heated argument in their rapid language.

Eventually (to my great relief) Kyra appeared to win the discussion. The other troll grudgingly slipped the sword back onto his back. But he narrowed his eyes and glared at me as though I were evil-incarnate, then paced around me muttering under his breath. Kyra sent him a look of disapproval which he ignored. She held out her hand to me as a peace offering.

I’m ashamed to say I almost didn’t take it. Her hand possessed only three fingers, and looked so large and alien to me that I felt quite disgusted by it. Luckily, I got over this quickly and took her hand. She then walked beside me, with her friend lagging behind and clearly sulking over the incident.

“Josen,” she told me, waving her chin back at the other troll. I wasn’t sure what this meant until she motioned for me to repeat it. “Joh-sin.” It was his name. Josen said something that was probably unpleasant and Kyra shot back a retort at him. Then she rolled her eyes and looked at me in a knowing sort of way, as if we were sharing confidence on the difficulty of men. I felt more like a mouse hanging two inches out of reach of a cat - but I was willing to humor her.

If I had found Kyra impressive, then Josen was twice as much so. His sword was, I was fairly sure, the biggest that I had ever seen. The mere fact that he was strong enough to wield it impressed me. And he carried enough plate armor to keep out a hurricane. He must be a warrior or ... no, definitely a warrior. Also there was the matter of his physical appearance, which even the bravest human must have found imposing. The things you first noticed about him were, one - his tusks, which were much more prominent that Kyra’s, and, two - his bright red hair. Kyra’s hair was almost the same color as her skin, so even with it sticking up like a pincushion, the overall effect was not quite as flamboyant. But the red hair contrasted sharply with his blue-green body and gave Josen an appearance that was at once both comical and stunning. I would have liked turn my head to inspect him some more, but I dared not. I was afraid he might get the wrong impression.

Kyra spoke to me softly as we walked. I have no idea what she said, but I was agitated and I found it soothing to listen to her voice. Sometimes she would stop as if she were waiting for me to fill in my part of the conversation. But after a moment of silence, she would start up again. Later I decided she had probably been speaking as much for Josen’s benefit as for mine. Eventually, he stopped grumbling and kicking up dirt, and I had to listen closely to tell whether or not he was still behind us.

Just when I was beginning to feel it was time for lunch, Kyra stopped abruptly in her path. She motioned for me to get back and started whispering fiercely with the Josen. She pointed at something ahead of her and as soon as I saw it my blood froze. It was a dragon. I felt foolish for not seeing it before, although it did tend to blend in with the landscape. A dozen wolfbeasts were nothing compared to a dragon, and this dragon was as large as a house. In my wildest dreams, I had always wanted to see a dragon, but now that I was faced with one, I quietly wished I were somewhere else. I felt sure we were going to sneak back and go another way, when Josen took his pack off and started putting on his armor. I wanted to ask him if he was crazy, but I decided that wouldn’t go over very well. Kyra, too, was making preparations. She took a red stone from her pocket and began some encantations - whatever was needed for whatever it was she was doing.

They continued whispering urgently with one another and I assumed they were working out some attack stratagem. I crawled back into the crevice of a rock where I could watch without drawing attention. If they died, it was likely the dragon would eat me next.

I have always like to listen to bards tell stories about great heroes in great battles. They try to make it interesting by adding details and so forth, but it’s not the same thing as watching a real battle unfold in front of you. At this point in my life, I had never actually witnessed a battle of any real caliber, so the scene that unfolded next left quite an impression on me. I shall try to describe it here as best I can.

The dragon had its back turned when the warrior troll charged. It was stunned, but only for a moment, then it spun about furiously on its attacker. Josen held his ground. He snarled almost as ferociously as the dragon as he bashed his sword against its thickly scaled hide. The dragon took a deep breath and let a smoking nebula of fire pour from its mouth. Josen held his shield over his head and managed to protect himself from most of the blast.

Kyra stood silently, watching the fight, and looking as though she were in deep concentration. Why doesn’t she help him? I wondered. Then her eyes grew dark and she began to cast a brilliant ball of light. Emphatically, she loosed the spell and sent it hurtling towards her target. The dragon howled in pain at the blast and turned away to seek the source of this new threat. Josen gave a shout of defiance and leapt at the dragon, using the opportunity of distraction to pierce its underbelly. The dragon whipped around in anger and refocused its attention on the warrior, even though Kyra continued to heave at it wave after wave of purple magic.

Size is a relative concept. Standing next to me, Josen had seemed formidably large. But next to the dragon, he was tiny - like a ferret attacking a bear - escaping death only by through quick-footedness. I watched the combat with an increasing sense of awe. I had seen many performances of superb fighting back home - champions who demonstrated technique to trainees and duels between master warriors. Josen, it was clear, could have tangled with the best of them. He attacked with precision, and defended with deftness. I hoped to the gods I never faced him, but at the same time I felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect that someday - if I worked very hard and was very lucky, I might become that good.

Eventually, however, the troll started to wear down. His armor had been burnt through in several places, and the dragon showed no signs of fatigue. Finally, he shouted something to Kyra. On cue, she cast something at the dragon that it could not ignore. It reared up, abandoning the first troll and advancing on the second. The dragon moved slowly, being wounded by Josen and partly frozen by Kyra, but it did not hesitate. Josen took the chance to recuperate. He quickly changed his weapon and bandaged himself up as best he could.

Kyra did not flinch; she continued to throw spells at the advancing dragon until the last possible moment. Then just as it was close enough to strike, she made a gesture and disappeared. I gaped, momentarily forgetting the ability of mages to self-transport. But then I saw where she had reappeared behind the dragon, well out its range, and was already casting another spell. The dragon had been trapped in place by a block of ice before Kyra vanished. Now it bellowed with rage and frustration, unable to move or defend itself as she continued to bombard it mercilessly. Eventually, the ice broke and the dragon shook itself free, eager to exact vengeance on the mage.

But by this time, Josen was ready for another round. He ran at the beast and demanded its consideration. The dragon was hurt and confused now, and it readily accepted the nearest foe as the object of its wrath. The dragon hurled fire at Josen until his blue skin turned mostly black. Kyra’s face was dripping with sweat, although she did not let up on the stream of magic flowing from her fingers. The dragon was coming down to its last straw, but then so were the two trolls. Except for a moment at the beginning, I had not really expected that they might lose. Now I was uncertain.

Suddenly, I saw a giant scorpid that had wandered too close to the battle and was racing its way towards Kyra. “Watch out!” I yelled at her, forgetting any intention to stay hidden. Kyra turned just in time to see the bug lunge at her. She cried out from the force of the blow. The commotion drew Josen’s attention, which cost him a nasty knock on the head. The next moment, however, the threat was neutralized when the scorpid changed - in the wink of an eye - from a hard-plated insect into a fluffy looking sheep. I blinked at the strangeness of it. A sheep. Why did it always have to be a sheep? Didn’t these magicians know how to make a rabbit or...something? I resolved to ask the next mage I came across (that is, the next mage who spoke Common).

The trolls turned their efforts back on the dragon and unleashed the rest of their energy upon it. I met its eyes at the end and thought I saw a flash of panic, as though it had just realized what was going to happen. Then it puffed a last strangled breath, exuding smoke but no fire, and finally collapsed on the ground. Josen gave a whoop of joyful triumph, climbed up on top of the body, and began to do a victory dance.

“Josen,” Kyra called wearily, pointing to the sheep who was still lumbering about in a confused way. Josen’s countenance fell when he remembered there was more fighting to do and he suddenly looked exhausted. But he dutifully went over and swung at the beast, which instantly reverted back into a fully healthy scorpion. It took only a few moments to dispose of the scorpid, compared with the lengthy ordeal of the dragon. I came over and tried to help by adding my sword to the slaughter. The scorpid ignored me mostly, but I managed to get in a few good swings. Josen smirked at me afterwards - or at my efforts, I wasn’t sure which. Kyra sat down and promptly drank three full bottles of water.

[MoonSage]

The trolls spent most of the rest of the day gleaning anything of value from the body. Josen went over the tail and pried off most of the scales. Kyra conjured up batches of water until she had enough to form a shallow pool on the ground. Josen threw the scales at her and she washed them carefully. I thought it better to make myself useful rather loaf about aimlessly, so I joined in, scrubbing the blood and bits of flesh off of the shiny disks. Kyra sorted the scales, discarding the broken ones, and setting aside a few of the most pristine. At the end, she handed me one of them and gestured that I should keep it. I marveled at the gift, imagining the price it would command at market, then pocketed it carefully before Josen could notice the exchange. He seemed to have gotten used to me (or at least he was more or less ignoring me), but that was no reason to push my luck.

Josen took the horns and the teeth as well, and Kyra demanded also the left eyeball. He cut it out for her and she rinsed it gently and wrapped it up in a cloth. What on Azeroth she wanted with that, I didn’t care to know.

The little pool was quite dirty by the time we were done with it and Kyra had to conjure up another one for us to wash up in. I was surprised at the fastidiousness with which they thought it necessary to be clean. Kyra even had a bar of soap that she shared with me.

We camped by dragon’s corpse that night. I suppose it was enough to frighten away any threats that might have approached us otherwise. Josen built a fire and roasted some of the dragon meat. I wished I had my things with me so I could have used some spices on the meat. But I was pleasantly surprised to find the troll had some spices of his own, and really cooked the meal quite well.

Sometime during supper, another giant lizard showed up and I decided it must be Josen’s. The reptiles snarled at each other a bit until Kyra tied them up on seperate sides of the camp. She scolded her pet with affection, rapping it smartly on the nose. “Tuka ero ta da’jin!”

Kyra was still aware of me and often checked to make sure I was content, but Josen occupied most of her time. The two of them conversed lively with each other during the whole of the afternoon. Although I could not understand them, I could sometimes make out the just of what they were saying from their expressions. They appeared to be very close, possibly in an intimate sort of way. When the light faded, Josen snuggled up to Kyra by the fire and took her hand, whispering things into her ear that made her smile. I felt a strange pang of jealousy and was annoyed at myself for it.

I thought of my best friend Alerica - a warlock with large eyes and wispy curls that always seemed to hang in her eyes. Men were always smiling and bowing whenever Alerica walked past them. No one seemed interested in Ennie, a skinny warrior who cut all her hair short because she thought it more practical. The only one who ever gave me a second look was the assassin DeMarc. DeMarc, who was at least as ugly as the average rogue and even less honorable than most.

Alerica took no notice of the attention she drew; she had eyes only for her beloved - James the Valiant, a dreamy-eyed paladin who smiled at just the right times, and always had a kind word for everyone (even his fiance’s shabby warrior friend). I sighed. I couldn’t begrudge my friend her happiness. Alerica was the one thing I had to hold onto in this life. But that didn’t stop me from being depressingly jealous whenever I saw the two of them together.

And now I was envious of some trolls. How embarrassing. It was something of a revelation to me to realize trolls could do things like fall in love. Why, they might be married and have children for all I knew. I almost chuckled at the notion, then stopped myself short. Well, of course, trolls must have children. Otherwise where would they all come from? Strange that this had never occurred to me before.

It was amazing, in fact, how many misconceptions I had lost in the past couple of days. In stories at home, trolls were always pictured as crazed wild creatures with blood dripping from their fangs and weapons. But Josen had wiped the blood from his sword like a civilized person. Civilized trolls. I felt my face grow hot. It sounded like a bad joke someone would tell in a tavern. I knew these trolls had been more than civilized to me. Although there was still that look Josen sometimes gave me, like he wanted to kill me and was thinking of doing it when Kyra wasn’t looking.

It was hotter down on the valley floor than it had been last night and I had had more trouble sleeping. Also, the dragon was starting to decompose and the smell did not contribute much to my comfort. I tossed and turned most of night, hating this place and wondering if there any chance of my ever getting out of it. I felt no closer to that goal now than I did when I first slid down that wretched cliff. The worsening heat was probably a sign that I was farther away than ever from my friendly green valley.

Kyra and Josen, on the other hand, were as content as two clams. It did not bother them in the slightest to hang out in this valley of burning horrors. The best I could hope for was that they would pass within a fair distance of an alliance outpost and point me at it as they went past. The question was, how long before that happened?

I was lying awake with these thoughts in my head when Josen roused himself at the crack of dawn. He gave a huge lazy yawn, scratched his head furiously (I wondered vaguely if he had lice) and started a morning practice routine. I couldn’t pretend to sleep anymore, so I found a dead tree trunk to lean back against where I could watch. The troll took no more notice of me than you would a nearby tree beetle. He went through some stretches, then moved on to swordplay, his blade slicing through the air as though it held some invisible enemy. His fighting was not all that different from the human style. Of course, all the races I knew had their own nuances in style. Elves were nimble; dwarves were more heavy-handed. The best warriors took techniques from every style. The more moves you knew, the more you could counter against.

Josen’s swing was fast but wide. After watching for a few minutes, I got up discretely and tried to mimic some of his movements. Josen noticed and stopped immediately. I decided not to let him get to me and ignored him as I practiced the motion. He stared at me for several seconds, then started towards me. “Ta no’moyka,” he said loudly. I was scared enough of him to stop now, but he continued to approach anyway. I backed up, but he grabbed my wrist and adjusted the tilt of my sword.

“Un’jo saroka ko...sa’ani...” he hissed softly, holding my arm and guiding it slowly in an upwards arc. Then he backed off and waited for me to try it. I gave him a nervous glance and put my best effort into the swing. “Ta, sa’ani!” He stopped me and followed through the maneuver once more, motioning for me to hold it steady. “Ko ani!” chimed in Kyra from afar, who had awaken up by this time and was watching the lesson with amusement. It took several more tries before Josen was satisfied. Finally, he nodded his approval, looking grave but pleased. I was thrilled and wanted to learn more.

“Teach me,” I said, facing him and holding my weapon to the square. This was supposed to be the universal symbol for requesting a duel (that is, the non fight-to-the death kind). I’d been told Horde would recognize it as well. Josen must have because he started with surprise and then his face twitched like he was trying to keep from smiling. Although he returned the signal in acceptance, it was not as much like a duel as a coaching session. He must have victory-cornered me at least a dozen times (the first time within two seconds), but then he would back up and let me attack again. Whenever I managed to dodge one of his thrusts, he would laugh and murmur praise. After about a half hour, I was completely out of breath, and Kyra called for us to take a break.

Kyra snickered at Josen as he sat down, but he just shrugged at her. During breakfast, they had another discussion about me. They thought I was oblivious, no doubt, even though they kept giving me side-ways glances. I ignored them and happily devoured half a dragon steak and a bottle of Kyra’s conjured water.

We started off traveling again soon afterwards. I tried to walk quickly, but I knew my presence was slowing them down. If I hadn’t been there, they could have mounted those lizards and been gone in no time. Luckily, the trolls seemed in no hurry whatsoever. Our path was erratic and we stopped several times for Josen to get out a pick and pound through hunks of green rock. Eventually, I decided those rock piles were probably the aim of the expedition. We seemed to be going in circles. While Josen was engrossed with one of them, Kyra beckoned me to the top of a boulder and pointed out a narrow pass.

“Gome,” she said proudly. What was she talking about? “Gome?” I asked. She insisted on repeating the word several times. “Ennie gome.” Then it dawned on me. “Go home,” I corrected her. My face broke into a wide grin. I could have hugged her.

Kyra started to return my smile, but then she stopped. Her face froze in an expression of pain and she looked down in disbelief at a deep splotch of red that had materialized on her chest. She quickly threw her hands up and sent out a wave of piercing cold that whipped against my face and froze the ground solid all around us. Then there was the sound of a whipping blade and Kyra collapsed on the ground. Behind where she had been standing, there was a narrow figure with long white hair, all dressed in black, a triumphant expression on his face.

All of this took place in so short a time that I barely understood what had happened. My eyes traveled back to the motionless form on the ground, under which a pool of red liquid was fast spreading, and I knew she was dead as stone. I would have stumbled backwards, but my feet were stuck in half a foot of solid ice, so instead I simply fell over.

I shuddered at the abruptness of it. All that power, and all it took was two seconds of having her back turned at the wrong time. I felt something hot and wet on my face and realized I was crying - something I had not done since the age of ten when my mother died. When I looked back up, there was Josen, who must have just climbed up the boulder, standing still as a statue and looking much as he could have been expected to under the circumstances. I had not thought it possible for troll skin to change color, but Josen was much the consistency of pale chalk. He did not notice me, and he barely registered the night elf, who was desperately trying to free himself by beating against the ice with the hilt of his dagger. He just stared at what was left of Kyra with an expression of loss that I would remember for the rest of my life. Then, quite gradually, the expression changed into something else. It was a look I had seldom seen before, but have often seen since. It was the look of pure and absolute hatred.

Eventually, he charged at the elf. The elf could do nothing to get out of the way, so he defended himself as best he could. I paid little attention to the mechanics of the fight. I knew only that both sides were calling on every last resource to do as much damage to the other as they could.

In the midst of this, I heard a commotion below and I turned in time to witness the arrival of three more alliance fighters, all of whom immediately focused their energies on getting rid of the troll. Despite the sudden onslaught, Josen ignored the new arrivals entirely; he never took his eyes off of that elven rogue. The rogue was losing his ground and cried out in desperation. Someone tried to heal to him, but it was too late. Josen killed the rogue who had killed Kyra, even though he went down himself only a moment later.

There was a period of intense stillness, then one of the fighters took off his helmet. “Let us take a moment to remember our fallen comrade,” he said, and everyone bowed their heads in solemnity. Quite suddenly, my composure failed me, and I began to weep out loud. Try though I did, I was unable to stop. I just sat there in the frozen ground, my toes going numb, crying at the top of my voice while these veteran adventurers stood around me. Finally, an elf priestess came and held me in her arms to comfort me.

“It is all right, little one,” she said in her soft voice. “You are safe now.”

[MoonSage]

..........

[Lakynin]

:o! Gasp, looky who gets to make the first reply!

The second I finished reading your story back when you sent it to me, I ran off to WoW to make Josen. I felt a connection to the character, and being quite inspired by your little bit of fiction here, I just had to claim him. Since then I've grinded him up to his 50's, and have spent quite a lot of time playing your defender ;D. I've started writting my own story based from your's.. which is coming along slowly. And we've even done live storytelling (Dang crazy mages..)

None of this would have happened if you hadn't written this great fic, hun :). Now I'm sure your going to reply with "That's a biased opinion" (I can almost see the words twisting in your mind right now ;D.) But honestly.. you inspired me. You got the imagination gears working again :wink:.

Now if only I can get you to write something more ;D. Perhaps once Kyra is introduced in my fanfic, we could make it a duel author story?

[Valker]

very good story i must say

[Deadinthewater]

A great story. No flaws that I noticed, and if there were any I doubt it would have taken away from the story.

[semiiramiis]

I absolutely loved it. It did everything a story is supposed to do...without ever over doing it. Nothing felt contrived or forced, it flowed and went exactly where it was supposed to go. Techincally it was great, the single off sentence I noted was a slip from the time period, by saying the trolls were 'hanging out' in the canyon...perhaps 'cooling their heels' or 'biding their time' would have worked just a little bit better for the genre. A stellar work!

[QitelRemel]

That ending was...painful. As I'm sure it was intended to be.

-Qit

[semiiramiis]

/bump to bring the Forum's must reads back to the top.

[Aegospotami]

Overall a pretty good read. The spontaneous combustion thing confused me -- did the beast combust? If so, how was it able to dash after the mage? Was the "combustion" just magic hurled at the beast by the mage?

Also, reign and rain are two different words. Kings and queens can reign, but a mage calling down fire is "raining" it down.

The description of the troll's language, heard by foreign ears, was especially good and stood out among the descriptive passages in this story.

It's a shame that this thread has seen only a handful of replies over three years.

[semiiramiis]

Overall a pretty good read. The spontaneous combustion thing confused me -- did the beast combust? If so, how was it able to dash after the mage? Was the "combustion" just magic hurled at the beast by the mage?

Also, reign and rain are two different words. Kings and queens can reign, but a mage calling down fire is "raining" it down.

The description of the troll's language, heard by foreign ears, was especially good and stood out among the descriptive passages in this story.

It's a shame that this thread has seen only a handful of replies over three years.


It is indeed a shame. This is one of those stories that I feel deserved more attention than it got. As it is one of the must reads, I intend on giving it the occasional nudge back up the list.