"I am not looking forward to this meting in the least, Lady Cozwyn." Zaela grumbled as they rode from Dragonmaw port in the early hours of the morning.
The sun was just beginning to peak above the waters, its fiery orange globule, greeting the sky, looking like it rose from the sea. The sky was painted in soft colors of pink and blues all mingled to make the most tranquil of mornings. Today however, the beauty was lost to the Dragonmaw leader, as she and the Forsaken ambassador led the way to a neutral enclosure between Dragonmaw port and Valliant's points where Horde and Alliance could meet.
The honor guard behind her rode silently, mirroring her emotions of sullenness. The only part she might like would be the end of their business, and even then she'd have to turn her back on the Dwarven curs, an unpleasant thought to say the least. But that was only half of her depression, the other half being Garrosh had not sent so much as a messenger to her of late, even to check on her decision. Although she would never admit it aloud, Zaela was worried her words had drawn a rift between them, and wished she could have taken them back. Setting her jaw, she nodded slightly to herself, what's done was done, she could not do anything to change things yet, instead she forced herself to focus on the diplomacy ahead.
There was not one amongst the Dragonmaw who didn't know diplomacy wasn't one of Zaela's strong suits, even as a simple grunt, she would have rather talked with her fist than with words. Looking out the corner of her eye she was actually pleased the Dark Lady had sent Cozwyn, the priest knew the ways of bargaining and had been invaluable in her aid. The thought of Cozwyn having her back provided a little comfort to the warrior woman who relaxed a bit the saddle.
A sudden shift in the wind caught the vigilant Zaela who stopped her wolf dead in its tracks. She held a hand up and the guards behind her halted immediately, bristling for trouble. Were the Wildhammer already making grave mistakes by planting an ambush? The thought made Zaela smile, hoping fervently it was.
"Well met, Warchief Zaela." A gruff voice hailed her from behind.
Taken by surprise, Zaela spun around to find a lone orcess standing right between her, and her guards. She was dressed all in black, two daggers still in their sheaths by her side. The woman hands were outstretched, an orcish custom showing she came in peace.
Zaela saw many of her guards turn their eyes away from there Warchief in embarrassment, knowing that none had noticed the rogue's presence. Some good they were, but Zaela knew that was unfair to them, from what she had heard the woman in front of her was the best of the best.
"You are Garona Half-orcen, are you not?" Zaela growled, still not liking the rub of being taken off guard.
By the light green skin, and odd features, proclaiming the curious side of her heritage there could be no doubt who it was. Garona offered a nod, placing her hands on her hips, scrutinizing the Dragonmaw leader with her cold black eyes. "You're on your way to bargain for the prisoners I see."
"And what concern is it to Garona Half-orcen if I am?" Zaela snapped. They had not made the fate of the prisoners a secret, but Zaela did not like the idea of this woman in Dragonmaw business. Furthermore, she did not like having the rogue scrutinize her; it made her feel vulnerable and very aware of her flaws.
The rogue shrugged nonchalantly. "I have heard talk of Twilight Hammer moving about near your port kingdom. It could be just rumor; I am not sure at all. I saw you leave earlier with such a big force and thought it might be wise if I warned you."
Zaela's eyes looked down upon the orcess, hoping it gave her a dignified air of leadership. "I thank you, for the timely warning, but we shall continue on our way."
Before she could turn back around, a gloved hand caught the reigns of Zaela's wolf forcing it to remain facing Garona. There was a haunted, dead look in her eyes as she spoke once more to Zaela. "Listen to me, Zaela of the Dragonmaw. The Alliance is the least of your worries here, they are only a fatal stumbling block compared to the real danger right atop that mountain range!" To accentuate her point, Garona pointed to the far away peaks, shadowed by foreboding dark clouds, and the rise of tall black buildings. "Garrosh never listened but perhaps you will, abandon your war with the Alliance, it will all be for naught if Cho'gall and his ilk come to pick off the survivors. Set the prisoners free as a gesture of temporary truce and turn your warriors to the real threat!"
"Who are you to tell me what to do!" Zaela yelled.
How dare this slinking outsider try and come and tell her how to run things, she was already unsure on many of her decisions and did not need this woman adding on to her problems. Taking her foot out of the stirrup, the warrior kicked out at Garona. It was an awkward attack but one the rogue had not been expecting, she jumped back, nimbly avoiding it, and that's when Zaela struck. Zaela all but leapt from the saddle tackling the off guard rogue. With in a few seconds of the scuffle, Zaela had Garona on the dirt stunned but quickly coming to.
"Zaela!" Cozwyn cried out, just as the first punch was about to be thrown.
One hand gripping, Garona's leather jerkin, the other poised to strike, the warrior turned to the Forsaken her brown eyes blazing in fury. She looked ready to fight the Forsaken as well, but Cozwyn only shook her head pityingly totally nonplused by Zaela's anger. "Words dear, use your words."
Zaela's chest heaved as she took large gulps of air, a trick Cozwyn had taught her to get her temper in check. After a few tenuous seconds, the warrior released the rogue letting her sink back down to the dirt. She mounted once more, lest her temper again rise to the rogue who was beginning to stand. "You remember this, Garona Half-orcen, Zaela, and Zaela alone makes the final decision for her people. This is what I have decided and this is how it shall be."
With that they began riding once more, leaving Garona in the dust and shaking her head. The moment to say the least had been thrilling, watching her people swell with pride for their leader, cheering her on as she had been about to beat the rogue senseless. Zaela would never have called herself vain but it felt good to get that approval from her people, it steadied her somewhat.
"Spoken like a true Warcheif." Cozwyn commented riding to catch up with Zaela. Cozwyn smiled at the warrior, giving her a brief nod. "You're getting more confident in yourself everyday."
Zaela grumbled something unintelligible to hide the fact she was flattered with the advisors statement. She became serious once more as the ancient meeting place came into view. The dwarves were already there, their banner of green and gold fluttering in the breeze, short tubby arms crossed distempered. A human sporting blue and white armor, stood above them all, and waved to the Dragonmaw. Zaela was surprised when Cozwyn waved back, as they slowed their mounts the Forsaken's mouth moved quickly in a hushed whisper. "That human is Hamlin Brightguard, an envoy from Stormwind. I dealt in negations with him in Northrend, you'll have to watch out, he's a tricky one. By the time he's done talking with you, he'll take all your armor, and you'll pay him to do it!"
"Then why did you wave to him like you were a friend?" Zaela asked confused.
If forsaken could blush Zaela guessed Cozwyn did at that moment. "Because he is my brother after all…"
They were to near now to continue the conversation, but Zaela made a mental note to inquire more on that when they arrived back at port. Up close, there was some resemblance, in the facial features which Cozwyn hadn't lost too much of.
"Greetings, Warchief Zaela." Hamlin offered her a small polite bow.
The dwarf beside him, arms still crossed, grumbled something through his beard which Zaela took as a greeting.
"Greetings to you, Thane Grimbeard." Cozwyn replied in fashion.
When nothing came from Zaela, who was to busy glaring bloody murder at her hated foe, Cozwyn nudged her with the bony part of her arm. A silent reminder she wasn't supposed to start making trouble. Zaela shook her head to keep her mind on track, giving a small, if barely intelligible, greeting as well.
Hamlin smiled at his sister as they all sat around the place of neutrality. "I hope you brought you're A-game, Cozwyn."
"Why Hamlin, that's the only game I have." She replied chuckling, taking a seat opposite of him.
The dwarven ambassador didn't reply knowing it to be true.
By the time both factions had ended negations the sun had begun sinking into the western sky. Zaela rubbed a knot in her back sighing tiredly, though commending herself. All day, she had sat inches away from the long time enemy of the Dragonmaw. All day and hadn't killed one. If that wasn't progress she didn't know what was.
In dire need to stretch her legs, she walked beside her wolf, Bloodhowl, scratching the soft scruff of his neck absentmindedly. To be out in the open again felt good, even softening her anger about the bargaining. She wasn't pleased by some of the outcome of their chat with the Wildhammer, but some things were needed. The Dwarves would be pulling back from the Krazzworks, and keeping on their side of the river bank. How long would they keep their treaty was the only thing that worried Zaela, once they had the captives, what would stop them from breaking the treaty? She didn't worry about it much right now, it just felt so good to be out again, free for a while on the open road before having to resume her duties at the port. Garrosh was sure to be pleased when he found out how the talks went and that in turn pleased Zaela as well.
The air was warm, her guards had started a singing an old warriors tune to march along to, the road was clear, and there was a cool breeze in the wind. Zaela let the wind tousle her hair, but frowned when she smelled the faint scent of char and smoke. She halted turning to her warriors. "Anyone else smell that?"
She watched as the grunts took deep breaths, nodding to her, it did smell faintly of smoke.
"I think it's coming from that away." One grunt piped up point to the south.
That was the direction of Dragonmaw port. They were still about two hours away from reaching home, so no smells of fire pits or the huge bonfire out side the clan hall should have been able to reach them. Immediately an inner instinct told Zaela something was wrong, beads of sweat broke out around her forehead and the nape of her neck. A feeling of disaster washing over her. Breaking out into a run she ignored the alarmed calls from her guards, in fact she hadn't even heard them, nothing seemed to exist for a moment except for the terror that started to well with-in her.
Scaling a nearby hill, she clawed at the grass and dirt for more height, to get any view she could. As she finally crested the top of the hill, the sight took what little breath she had away, the energy in her legs gave out so that she sunk to her knees looking on into the illuminated distance.
Dragonmaw port was burning.