Author's Note: World of Warcraft is copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Used without permission or profit.
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"Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that was ever cooked in hell."
-Walter Scott, The Heart of Mid-Lothian
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Hrolf Driscoll sighed and looked around as he entered the ruins of the ancient troll settlement. He had no idea why he was even assigned here to the Plaguelands and he was not too keen on it. Something about finding some sort of ancient artifact. It was a waste of time, he was sure - it was likely either destroyed during the incessant fighting between the elves and trolls or had been pillaged long ago.
"I don't believe it's here," Lieutenant Llenrus Wildstar said quietly, overturning some rubble in the corner.
"Of course it isn't. This is a waste of time. Sir," Hrolf muttered to the night elf. He added the sir at the end just to remember his formalities. He did not really dislike the officer, but the elf was never particularly friendly or open with his emotions. It was impossible to get much of a read on the man. "The armies are just now returning from Argus. They may need relief. We should be there to help."
The night elf waved his hand, slightly dismissively. "For whatever reason, our dwarven allies believe that whatever is here in the Plaguelands will aid the Alliance. We had best find it before the Horde does. These are their lands . . . More or less. They'll have an easier time searching for it than we will if we leave and have to come back."
The Gilnean rolled his eyes. "I doubt they are even looking for the artifact. Most of the Horde doesn't strike me as . . . intellectually curious."
"The blood elves and Forsaken are, and they'd be the ones to find it. You shouldn't underestimate them. They would not have survived this long if they were stupid."
Hrolf started to mention that neither race had done a great job surviving, but he decided to drop it, continuing his search. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he brushed off his hands. "Nope. Not here."
"On to the next place, I suppose," the elf replied nonchalantly, walking back out of the camp.
The two walked along in relative silence, half because they had little to talk about and half because they were listening for the ever present Scourge. It was odd that the Horde had not wiped out the remnants of it yet. Were they that incompetent? Or was it their way to keep the most errant races in the fold?
The man's thoughts were interrupted when Llenrus spoke. "You know, if you had not angered the Captain, he wouldn't have sent you here. He thought you couldn't be trusted on the Vindicaar."
"What? Why?"
"Well, you tend to get into spats with our friends in the Horde," the night elf laughed. "If you had hurt someone onboard or vice versa, it was likely to cause a diplomatic issue."
Hrolf narrowed his eyes. "They don't deserve to be our allies."
"Perhaps not. But if we're going to survive, it takes working with them at least some of the time," Llenrus continued, then came to a dead halt. He raised his hand to stop Hrolf, then pointed with his other one.
In a clearing between the sparse trees was a white hawkstrider. Its rider, a dark haired female sin'dorei, was pushing the poor beast almost to exhaustion. She finally slowed and looked around nervously. Obviously she did not see the two Alliance soldiers, because she started singing a wavering tune, very faintly.
"Let her pass," Llenrus whispered, apparently sensing his subordinate's bloodlust. "There's no need to engage her as long as she doesn't see us."
Of course, no sooner had he spoken that the girl looked over at them and froze. Then, the next moment she spurred the hawkstrider harder, continuing south with a small green package bouncing on her back.
Llenrus sighed. "Go. Take her down."
Hrolf grinned and quickly shifted to his worgen form, giving chase. The poor mount must have been run half to death, since he caught up to the girl within a hundred yards. He reached up and grabbed her arm and pulled, sending her flying to the ground with a yelp. He expected that. He did not expect the higher pitched wail from what he thought was a pack on her back.
The surprise caused him to stop approaching her, at least momentarily. She had a bow slung over her shoulder that she grabbed with a shaking hand. "S-stay back!" she stuttered nervously in Common. He quickly drew his sword and approached, but took notice that she did not reach for an arrow, instead holding her arm close to her chest.
He felt something hit him hard in the stomach and he winced, glancing down. It was the girl's "pack" - a little orcling. He was yelling something in Orcish, and although his strikes were not really painful, they were annoying. To his surprise, the girl let go over her bow and grabbed onto the child's arm, pulling away. When the boy looked back at her, he threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her chest, still speaking in Orcish.
Llenrus walked up beside him and looked down at their "catch." The elf sighed. "You have quite the unfortunate luck, little Bloodfeather," he said to the girl, then turned back to Hrolf. "This is the same girl from Stormheim."
Hrolf looked back down at her, closer this time. It was that girl. He frowned slightly at her eyepatch - he felt a little . . . Guilty about what had happened. It had gone further than he had anticipated, he had to begrudgingly admit. He sighed and resumed his human form, staring down at the two. The orc was still whimpering something. The only word he recognized was "demon."
Whatever he had asked the girl, she nodded her head, still staring at them. Although Hrolf did not know the language, he knew that Llenrus did, and he noticed as the night elf scowled at the blood elf momentarily.
Llenrus sighed and crouched down. "Where are you in such a hurry to go?"
The girl stared at him, an odd look on her face now that the terror was gone from it. "U-Undercity," she said shakily after a long pause.
Llenrus looked at her, then down to where her arm was pressed to her chest. Her other arm was wrapped around the child, but that one still had not moved. The night elf looked back up at her. "You're injured. The Scourge will tear the two of you apart before you make it through the Plaguelands," he said plainly, standing back up. He looked over at Hrolf and shook his head. "Still, I'm not one to harm children. Return to Quel'thalas, girl, and remember that the Alliance treated you with mercy here today."
To their surprise, her face hardened and she shook her head. "Nether take you. Get out of my way. I have to go to Undercity," she said, struggling to her feet, holding onto the orc's hand with her own uninjured one.
"You'll die," Llenrus repeated patiently.
She started forward and past them, limping now. Evidently it was not only her arm that was injured. As she went past them, Hrolf could smell burnt meat, like a pig on a spit. Now that he could see her back clearly, her cloak was charred almost black.
Llenrus took a few rapid steps and grabbed onto her arm, pulling her back. Her knees buckled as soon as she was grabbed and she half collapsed onto the orcling. The night elf quickly released his grip, but only for a moment, then grabbed her hand again, slowly pushing her sleeve up and gasping. "By Elune," he whispered.
Hrolf got closer, looking down at whatever the officer had found. A blue spider web of glowing burns enveloped her arm. It was hard to tell where else they might spread. "What the fel is that?" he asked, looking at his commander.
"Arcane burns. They look to be all over her," the night elf said quietly, staring at the girl, who was now simply staring at the dirt in front of where she was kneeling. "I don't know how this happened, but you must return to your people, child." He spoke quietly and gently, with a reassuring tone. "You're badly hurt. You need to return to Quel'thalas so you can find a healer. We can take you as close to a settlement as is safe but . . ."
"I have to go to Undercity," she repeated, part of the anger from a few seconds prior being replaced with panic again. "I have to go to Undercity."
"We can't take you to Undercity. It's too far and too dangerous for you to take a child through, as badly injured as you are. You can return to one of your southern settlements."
"I can't. I can't."
Llenrus gritted his teeth. Hrolf could tell her was beginning to get more and more disturbed by the situation. He looked back up at the Sergeant and then back down at the girl, who was now clutching the orc again. "And why can't you go back?"
"B-because it's gone," she said, her voice picking up more panic. "All gone. Everything's gone. Everyone's gone."
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Llenrus stared down at the young blood elf and sighed. He and Hrolf had gotten into a heated discussion about what to do with their . . . prisoners. It seemed to be an inappropriate term. He had little interest in keeping either of them, but he did not see any other humane thing to do.
The girl had tried twice more to run, but each time they caught her and made her sit back against the tree again. Hrolf at one point suggested to let her go and get herself killed if that's what she wanted, but she refused to leave the child with them. At that point the Gilnean lost his temper until Llenrus had managed to calm him down.
They finally decided to take them back to the rallying point. The second surveying team was comprised of a draenei and another kaldorei, the latter of which was a druid. She would be able to heal the girl enough for her to at least not die of shock in the next few hours.
So they started walking, he leading the way and Hrolf bringing up the rear to keep them from running again. Llenrus glanced over his shoulder. The little orc (whose name he had learned was Atas) was clutching onto her uninjured arm, half supporting her and half pulling her down. She did not complain or try to pull her arm away, though she was shaking badly. Really, they both were, although Llenrus had checked the child carefully and he appeared to be unhurt. They were just a pitiful pair of refugees, although he decided not to mention it to them or the Gilnean yet.
"I want to go home," the little orc was saying in Orcish. "I want to go home."
The girl looked over at him, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.
Llenrus shook his head slightly and faced forward again. Something horrific had obviously happened, and he had a sickening feeling he knew what it was.
Little Atas had asked the girl, "Are those the demons?"
She had told him yes.