Chapter 4

Not memories per se, but feelings of memories coursed through Link's mind and body as the wind flew over and around him. Though he had never flown on the back of one of the majestic raptor headed animals before, somehow his muscles instantly knew how to move with the white and gold colored beast as it soared through the air southwards. The feel of deja vu was intense, though whenever he tried to call to mind when he might have done anything similar, there was always a blank.

The beast seemed to know it as well. The gryphons he and his two companions flew upon were well trained, and, as the gryphon master explained, they would fly straight south from Goldshire to the town of Darkshire in the province of Duskwood whether there was someone riding them or not. But this gryphon, rather than keeping to its set path responded to the slightest instinctual movement of Link's either higher or lower, banking or twisting.

Link couldn't suppress the boyish grin which spread over his face at the speed and rush he felt. It was, in some ways, like riding Epona again, his mare which had accompanied him throughout his life. In some way, riding the wind on the back of a great beast like this just felt "right". And like much of these kinds of feelings and instincts, he couldn't explain it.

Trailing Link's more free flying animal were Marshall McBride and Brother Garen on their own hired animals as they flew farther and farther south over Elwyn forest. Occasionally, the Hylian warrior would look back to make sure he hadn't lost the men who had graciously promised to help him find his lost princess and rescue her from the kinds of beasts he had been forced to slaughter the day before.

Marshall McBride looked almost bored as he held on to his gryphon, as though this kind of travel was nothing knew to him, letting the gryphon doing all the work. Once or twice, Link though he caught him with his eyes closed. In contrast, Brother Garen looked terrified, and even though his animal flew evenly and smoothly, the poor priest held on to it hunched over with white knuckles on the reins, though the animal was clearly not responding to any movements or jerks the priest made with them. Link wondered how many such passengers the gryphon was used to carrying.

They had reached Goldshire, a small town centrally located in the province of Goldshire, on horseback shortly after noon that day. After lunch in the Lion's Pride Inn, the Marshall had hired the three gryphons from the town's official gryphon master. It was then that the Marshall explained the somewhat unique system of air travel in his world.

"Yes, there are gryphon masters in most Alliance towns and all the major cities. Most of them are on the pay of either Stormwind or Ironforge here in the Eastern Kingdoms, though there are a few independent operations here and there." McBride told both the Hylian and Brother Garen, who himself had never traveled by gryphon before. "The animals themselves are well trained by their masters to fly to only certain locations and then return home on their own. This way, a man might reach a destination in a single day which might otherwise take him a week through dangerous territory on horseback. They also carry the mail from one destination to another, which is why the Alliance has a hand in their use and upkeep."

An hour after their departure, as the sun began dipping towards the west, Link observed a distinct shift in the landscape they were fast approaching. From his vantage point in the sky he could see a river, and the contrast between the north and south sides of the river was literally like the difference between day and night.

The north side of the river was cheerful, green, and summer like, as was all of Elwyn forest that Link had seen. It had reminded him strongly of the Faron woods north of where he had grown up in Ordon. But as they were approaching the south side, across the river it suddenly and starkly turned dark and foreboding. The trees were just as green and thick on the south side, but they were more obscured, even sinister as though a great shadow had fallen upon the land. A sickly fog or mist rose up from the ground.

A chill went up Link's spine as the flight of gryphons soared across the river and over the haunted landscape. What happened to this place? Link wondered. And then he wondered, How much longer 'til we cross it to this Darkshire town? And then, half an hour later the gryphons began their descent towards and into the eery region. When Link pulled up on the reins thinking it to be a mistake, his own animal, so ready to move with him earlier, wouldn't respond to his commands but was determined to land there.

The sun was beginning to set as well, which didn't help the feel of the region.

The gryphons flew down and over the blue roofs of a seemingly larger town than Goldshire had been, though as Link came closer it did not appear to be nearly as cheerful or full of life. The mists seemed to penetrate and surround every building and structure there as well obscuring the whole town in shadows. Street lamps and building lamps were lit though there was still at least an hour or two's worth of daylight left, and with good reason. There were people walking the streets and pathways of the town, but they appeared hurried, downcast, and themselves almost lifeless as though all hope had fled from them.

Finally, the gryphons swept east towards the crest of a hill just outside of the town where they landed gently and came to a halt among a few others that appeared to be resting, their raptor like heads bent back and nestled behind a wing. Not certain of what to do next, Link remained mounted until McBride and Garen landed behind him. McBride immediate slid off his beast as easily as if it had been a horse, while Brother Garen's shaky legs struggled to find purchase as he eased himself off the feathered and furred animal. It was then, observing his companions that Link knew to dismount there though he had no peace about remaining in the haunted locale for any length of time.

Marshall McBride went straight away to the first person he could see. It was another human, a woman wearing some kind of spectacles or goggles, who looked to be tending the resting gryphons. Link came to stand next to him, though he was less than enthused by what he heard.

"I'm sorry." The woman was telling him. "The soonest I can send out another gryphon flight south may be tomorrow morning."

"Why is that?" The Marshall asked, frustrated, though not unkind. "I thought fresh gryphons were always kept available for travelers."

"And usually they are, but even my animals take ill once in a while, Marshall. And, I've already had a group hire my last few healthy ones to head west towards Westfall. They won't find their way home here until tomorrow morning." The woman responded, noting the man's rank by his armor decorations. "The animals you came in on are going to be tired from the flight to Goldshire, and, presuming they were fresh out of Goldshire, while they may be capable of pressing on to the next stop southwards in Stranglethorn, I wouldn't try it." She then said, "The Scarlet Raven has warm rooms and comfortable beds in town if you and your friends would be willing to spend a few silvers and be patient."

"We were hoping to be in Booty Bay by tomorrow morning." The Marshall told her as he looked with an unsavory expression towards the town. By the tone of his voice, Link realized McBride now knew that was unrealistic at best.

"I don't know how else to help you, Marshall." The gryphon master said.

Then McBride's expression changed, and Link could see that a thought had occurred to him.

"Our business is more urgent than that. Do you know if anyone in town might have horses for hire?" McBride asked her.

She didn't say it out loud, but the expression the gryphon master gave the Marshall was clearly understood, Are you insane? What she actually said though didn't inspire any more hope, "What kind of business could be that urgent? No one travels the roads of Duskwood anymore, not unless they're fools or mad."

"Why?" Link asked.

Then it was as if the gryphon master had first noticed him as she seemed to appraise him like she appraised one of her precious flying mounts. After a few seconds she replied, "Look around you, Sir Elf. The light has abandoned Duskwood just as surely as I heard it abandoned much of your own homelands in the north. Soon, there will be nothing left of us here but the damned ghouls and worgen that have taken our fields and farms; not that Stormwind cares."

This last part she said under her breath followed by what sounded like a few choice words that Link didn't understand. There was a flash of anger with her words, but then it was gone. Replaced only with a hopeless resignation.

Marshall McBride looked as though he would reply to this, but then held his tongue.

"The Light abandons no one, my daughter." Brother Garen spoke up from behind the Marshall, his voice paternal and concerned. "Be at peace."

"I wish that were true, brother priest." The gryphon master replied, some sadness behind her words.

The older man stepped forward in his robes to put his hand on the woman's shoulder, he then closed his eyes and said a few words. As he did so, the hand on her shoulder glowed with a soft white light. Her eyes began to water, and she took his hand and said, "Thank you, brother. I'm sorry. It's just been so hard on all of us here for several years now."

"I know my daughter, but the Light abandons no one, and shines brightest among the darkest nights. It is when things become their darkest that the Light is most clearly seen." Brother Garen told her gently.

"Thank you," she said, sniffing back tears, "for your words of encouragement, brother. It's been hard without my parents."

It was then that Link realized the gryphon master wasn't much older than he himself was, and he had seen all of eighteen summers pass in his own world. He recognized in her a young woman who had tried to remain strong for too long, only to see her world get worse, and not better.

Under his breath, and imperceptible for all present but Link to be able to hear, McBride muttered angrily, "Damned Horde."

After a minute where no one knew what to say, the gryphon master regained some control over her emotions and said, "The armorsmith in town, Morg, he keeps a few horses out behind the smithy for when he needs to bring his wares in his wagon to the next province, but he hasn't been able to for over a year now. It's been too dangerous. You might see if he'd be willing to hire them or sell them to you for gold. It'd be more than he's seen in a while."

"Thank you, lady. It is most appreciated." Marshall McBride told her. He then reached into a pouch he carried on a belt under his armor and, pinching his fingers together, he pressed something into the young woman's hand, closing his own around it so that Link couldn't see what it was, though he heard the distinctive clink of many pieces of precious metal. The Marshall said as he did so, "For your help… and your parents."

The woman nodded her thanks and pocketed the clinking coins which seemed to weigh down her coin purse much more heavily than it had been before.

When they had taken their leave and begun their walk down the hill and into the town, the Marshall opened up and began speaking, though it sounded as if it were to himself just as much as it had been to either Link or the priest.

"I remember when this town was called Grand Hamlet. It was a jewel. My wife, may she rest in the Light, daughter and I would vacation here when Lucinda was just a babe in arms really. Those were more peaceful times." There was an anger, and an emotion in his voice that he had obvious trouble containing.

Link didn't know what to say as he observed their surroundings. "Jewel" would not be the description he would give it.

"If it wasn't for the damned Horde, Stormwind could afford to send troops and supplies to relieve these people." McBride continued.

"I thought there was a treaty." Link said. "That's what the mage said."

"Oh, there is." McBride snorted. "They don't step into lands we claim, and we don't step into theirs, but there are plenty of lands here in Azeroth that they claim that were never theirs. The treaties call them 'contested lands'." McBride spat the word. "Not far from here to the east is the fortress of Marshtide Watch in what we now call the Swamp of Sorrows, one of those 'contested lands'. Every day good human, dwarf, and even Draenei men and women fight to reclaim those wetlands that they stole from us. Not to mention those parts of our own, human, ancestral homelands in the Arathi Highlands far to the north of us that they've settled into and refuse to relinquish. The great city of Stromgarde is in ruins because of it. And what happened to Lordaeron and Gilneas… We have no one to send here, no one to send anywhere, no ability to help whatsoever, and it kills all of us who know about it every day. And it's all because of those damned orcs, their damned Horde, and the hell they unleashed on Azeroth the minute they set foot here through their damned portal!"

The air of the oncoming night was chill as they continued their walk into town, and people who had been out on their own business seemed to be in twice the hurry to get where they were going as what daylight there was vanished quickly. Soon, the only people they met on the cobblestone roads of the town were leather and chain mail clad members of what Marshall McBride referred to as the town's "Night Watch." Those brave souls who stood guard over its remaining citizens during the hours between dusk and dawn.

"We used to have a farm, a pumpkin farm, not far from here, my wife and I." The Marshall began again. "My lands weren't large, but they had been in my family since before my grandfather's time. Come harvest time, my wife, the Light give her rest, she used to bake the sweetest pumpkin pies you had ever tasted. We'd bring them to market here in… in..." His voice began to crack with emotion. "Damned orcs." He finally said after several minutes.

Link's heart ached for the man's loss. He didn't need to press him for the details. He understood now only too well.

"I think the smithy is this way, near the town hall." McBride said, steadying his voice again. "The sooner we leave this Light forsaken place the better."

The sun shone hard until the sun went down behind the western mountains, and Zelda wondered until the sun disappeared how any place could be that hot and not be total desert. But the view across the land from the town known only as "The Crossroads" was that of savannah, and yellowing grasslands. In the distance to the east, and much nearer to the south west could be seen rocky hills and low mountains jutting up from the earth like monuments the land erected to its own greatness. It was majestic and breathtaking in its own right.

Single horned horse-like creatures which Shaggara had called "zhevras" roamed the savannah plains freely in sight of the town to the east alongside large, flightless birds the orc woman had named "plainstriders."

They had arrived late in the day on the backs of winged, lion like creatures which Shaggara had told her were commonly called "Wind Riders" which members of the Horde used and hired frequently to move quickly across their extensive lands in Kalimdor. Zelda found the experience flying on the back of the great beast exhilarating and even somewhat familiar, though she couldn't remember ever doing anything like it before.

The Crossroads was essentially a small Horde outpost with a watchtower, an inn, and a few shops and tradesmen who made their living from all those passing through to the four corners of the continent of Kalimdor.

Several tall totem poles with carved, horned bovine heads atop them could be seen around the town, and, except for the watchtower, and the inn which served as its base and were made of earth, stone, and wood frames which were clearly of Orc design, the rest of the structures had been erected from wooden poles and thick animal hides. A kind of windmill made from wood frames and animal hides turned over a well with the breezes which swept through the town. It felt temporary and tribal, like the entire town could pack up at a moment's notice and relocate. It felt deeply connected to the earth and the natural forces around them.

Besides those orcs that oversaw the administration and policed it, several of the blue skinned trolls, and those smaller, green skinned people called Goblins, Zelda found that at least half of the town's inhabitants were from a tall, muscular, and proud race of bovine peoples which Shaggara called "Tauren." Those Tauren Zelda encountered seemed stern but kind. When she looked into their eyes she saw a wisdom and a peace in them that she had rarely encountered from any other singular race before.

When they landed, they set out immediately to locate the only mage Shaggara seemed to trust, a man named Gereth. Shaggara inquired from many different people, but no one seemed to know of him. As the darkness of night set in and the stars began to shine their brightest Shaggara ran out of townsfolk to inquire from. It was then they joined the other folk passing through in the traveler's inn for the night.

The "inn" was a single large domed room at the base of the tower. A low round table with a cooking fire and a hot plate stood in the center. Towards the back were carefully stacked wooden barrels with spigots. In front of them stood a not so fearsome looking orc man who was carefully filling mugs from the spigots with a dark brown liquor and handing them to some goblin patrons across a couple of low round tables which had been pushed close together to form a rough bar. Around the large room stood braziers with burning coals which provided most of the lighting, and several low to the ground wooden beds with stuffed feather mattresses carefully covered with clean white linen sheets and brown woolen blankets. That night, there were only a few fellow travelers that chose to stay there.

Sweeping the wooden floor with a well used straw broom was a large white Tauren male with keen, friendly eyes, a brass nose ring, and a ragged gray beard under his muzzle. He wore a green leather tunic, and gray leather pants with matching gloves and boots. His horns were long, pronounced, and sharp, and he hummed a sprightly melody as he worked. Noticing the two newcomers enter the inn, he called out to them.

"So, did you find out anything more about your mage friend?" He asked, his voice deep and rich.

"No, no one seems to know anything about him." Shaggara said as she and Zelda approached the Tauren.

He stopped his sweeping for the moment and turned to face them. "It's not surprising. We get so many new faces passing through from all directions and to all directions, even I can't keep track of everyone and I usually remember most of the folks that pass through, even if not their names. He must not have been here too long, but that describes almost everyone." Scratching his chin for a minute, he then asked, "Where was your friend from?"

"Brill, in Tirisfal Glades." Shaggara told him.

"Ahhh…. That explains a little more. The Forsaken tend to keep to themselves and their own, and quite frankly there are few that would try to draw them out if they had no business with them. I doubt your friend even troubled anyone in town with his name even if he had passed through." The Tauren explained.

"Are there any other cities or towns west of here that a mage might have been interested in enough to travel to?" Zelda asked.

The big Tauren answered as he continued his sweeping, "Well, there's my home town of Thunderbluff out west and south of here in Mulgore, but that's more of a draw for those interested in elemental or nature magic not the Arcane, or so I hear. Otherwise, far to the south there's the goblin town of Gadgetzan, but unless he's just passing through to somewhere else I don't know why a mage would want to go there. Same with Winterspring in the north." He then asked her, "First time in Kalimdor?"

"Yes." Zelda answered honestly.

"Well, we're a little rough around the edges; some of us more than others, but you'll find most of us here in the western lands to be good, honest people. My name's Boorand. Boorand Plainswind. I run this little hostel of ours here in town. What's yours?"

"Zelda." She answered.

"That's an unusual name for one of the Sindorei." He responded, stopping his sweeping. He stood his broom straight up and put both of his hands over the tip.

"So I've been told." She responded, growing a little wary at his interest in her.

Seeing her discomfort, he backed off his line of questioning. He'd run his business long enough to know when a guest wanted to keep their business their own. Then, he closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to remember something as his forehead seemed to scrunch and his eyelids tightened.

When he opened them, he said, "You know, now that I think about it, I did have a Forsaken man come through, oh about a week back or so. I never caught his name, but I do think I saw him talking to Larhka over there before he left."

The Tauren motioned to the orc serving drinks to the three goblins who seemed to be trying to drink each other under the makeshift bar. The orc said nothing, but took their silver with each drink he handed them.

"You might want to ask him. I only bring it up because it's kind of unusual to see one of the Forsaken at the bar there at all. I don't think I've ever seen any of them ever eat or drink anything come to think of it; at least nothing we can serve here." Boorand told them.

"Thank you, Boorand." Zelda told him.

"No problem." The Tauren innkeeper replied. "Let me know if I can help you ladies any more than that. Oh, and take any bed you can find. We don't have too many folks tonight, so there should be plenty to go around." He then said with some pride, "I run a clean establishment for my guests. If you find anything dirty or not right somehow, let me know and I'll take care of it for you."

He then pointed a thumb at the three small green patrons that were clearly unable to stand up on there own any longer. "One of these goblin fellows drinks too much and starts getting too friendly, let me know and he's gone. I won't have any of that in my place. Breakfast is eggs and pork ribs from Durotar at sunup. Don't ask me where I get the eggs from, just believe me when I say you've never tasted omelets like these before. I might even have some Blackrock coffee if you'd like some brewed in the morning. I don't usually drink it, but I keep some on hand in case I have guests who're interested."

"Coffee in the morning would be lovely, thank you, Boorand." Zelda replied graciously.

"Thank you again for your kindness." Shaggara told him as well.

Boorand smiled and nodded and went back to his work, continuing to hum the same melody as before. The two women then approached the "barkeep" towards the back of the common room.

By the time they had reached the "bar", none of the three goblins were still on their feet, and only one appeared conscious enough to even put his mug in front of Larhka for him to fill it, which the orc did once more silver coins had been laid on the table.

Taking his mug again, the goblin gave a valiant effort to bring it to his lips, but just as Zelda thought he might actually achieve his goal, the poor creature went over backwards, spilling the grainy smelling liquor all over himself. The goblin himself didn't care as he was passed out cold. Off across the room, the innkeeper snorted in disgust, but strangely he made no effort to clean it up or remove the creatures from his inn.

"Shouldn't you have cut them off long before this?" Zelda asked the barkeep.

Larhka looked at her with a wily grin and replied, "Better three drunk goblins sleeping it off all night, than three sober goblins causing trouble all night. Goblins are tougher than they look, they'll be fine. And now, so will everyone else."

Zelda smirked at his answer, appreciating the sly but practical cunning of the orc.

Shaggara spoke next, "The innkeeper tells us you spoke with a Forsaken man who passed through here a week ago. Do you know where he might have gone next?"

Larhka eyed Shaggara and Zelda pensively, as though appraising who was asking. His caution wasn't lost on Zelda. He definitely knows something, she thought. But he doesn't know if we're the right people to reveal it to.

"He's a friend of ours," Zelda than said as sincerely as she could. "His name is Gereth."

"He never told me his name." Larhka finally said. "But yes, I remember him. Not too often one of them comes up to buy a drink from me. Said he just wanted to remember what it tasted like. Something about a tavern in Lordaeron a long time ago."

"That was him." Shaggara confirmed. "He told me about the tavern in his home town before the plague many times."

"Yeah, what was the name of that town again?" Larhka asked, keeping his eyes on Shaggara, watching her for her answer warily.

"Andorhal. Gereth was from Andorhal before the Scourge overran it." Shaggara replied without hesitating.

Larhka nodded, "You're right, it was Andorhal." Eying Shaggara and Zelda again he said in his deep, raspy orc voice. "Yeah, he talked to me about that and a few other things. I don't usually pry, but people tend to talk a lot when they drink. When they do, I try to keep what they say between them and me. You know what I mean? Though, to be honest I didn't expect one of them to open up like that. I didn't know the drink could have that effect on one of them. Maybe he just felt like talking. Either way..."

Zelda listened to everything the two orcs were saying about the man they were looking for, but not everything was making sense to her. What was the Scourge? Why did they keep referring to this man as "forsaken" and "one of them"? There was a noticeable but slight shudder in the orc's disposition when he mentioned him as well.

"Either way, seeing as you're a friend of his, he talked a lot about his life before the Scourge." Larhka continued as he poured another mug of the liquor, then took a swig of it himself. "There was the usual anger and bitterness you see in one of them when they talk about their lives before, but there was something else too. He said he was traveling up into the elven lands to the northwest, to the old Kaldorei ruins up in Ashenvale. He said he was researching something that might be able to fix everything, something he had heard about from one of his friends in the Kirin Tor in Dalaran. He thought there might be… Oh, how did he put it, 'the last piece of the puzzle' to figuring out how to make or conjure one of these things; something he called a 'golden flame'."

"A golden flame?" Zelda asked, her intuition beginning to stir.

"Yeah, he mentioned something about a fire elemental called 'Blazerunner' way out in Un'goro Crater years ago that he had read about in some journal. Some adventurer went out and killed it and took this 'golden flame' from the monster trying to finish a job another had started. Last anyone heard, he said, it had been returned to one of the ruined elven cities in Ashenvale."

"You remember a lot." Shaggara observed.

"Like I said, it isn't often one of them comes and talks to me. And it was a good story he told. I'm not great at it, but sometimes I try my hand at storytelling to entertain the guests, especially when we've got little ones. It's not often but it does happen. I'm always on the lookout for new stuff." Larhka told her in reply.

Shaggara nodded in understanding. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just something about a 'sword of mastery' or something somehow being connected to the whole thing, like some kind of key." He replied.

Zelda stiffened, though she tried to not let it show. "Like a master sword?" She asked innocently.

"Yeah. You know, I think that's what he called it too. He said, 'the master sword's the key to it'. Those were his exact words. You know what he was talking about? Cause I'd like to know just to make it a better story when I tell it." The barkeep said, looking back and forth between the two women.

But Zelda didn't reply as her mind raced. Shaggara too, looked pensive as she remembered Zelda's own story from earlier in the day in Orgrimmar. Finally, Shaggara said, "Perhaps. Thank you, Larhka. You've helped us greatly."

"Yeah, no problem. I kind of hope he finds what he was looking for. He seemed like a decent fellow… for one of them I mean. Shame what the Scourge did to him and his people." The male orc replied.

The triangle emblem burned with a golden light on the back of Zelda's hand and she moved to cover it so that the barkeep didn't see. As it did so, her mind was filled with familiar, yet unknown images of a people and a history she had never encountered before. And a certain golden triangle, wreathed in golden flames stood at the center of them all.