Chapter 4! Man, this story is going quick. I'm so happy with it so far.
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Angels from the Realm of Glory
"I'm not hungry, Aannu," he sighed, pulling himself up with his staff to sit in the hammock.
Aannu scanned his form, her eyes dark with concern.
"You sure, mon?" she pressed. "You lookin' pale. Wan' me to bring you somet'in back?"
Nar'grin shook his head.
"You go, young one," he sighed. "I may sleep."
"Ya don' look well…" the troll worried.
"Aannu, I'm alright," the elderly orc insisted. "I feel fine. I am just tired."
Aannu sighed, and Nar'grin lay back, closing his eyes. After a moment, he heard her leave.
Though he had told Aannu he was alright, it was not entirely true. He felt old, and so, so tired. Everything, especially his chest, felt heavy, and he was having difficulty keeping his breath. Another pull from the bottle of hedgethorn was enough to ease his thumping heart, but he was still exhausted. As he'd feared, lying in the hammock for any length of time was killing his back. If he'd had the energy, he'd have gotten up and explored the Hold, but he simply didn't feel up to it.
Possibly, part of it was his concern for Ahnka - his fear that he would not get to her in time bordered upon depression, almost. And the fact that he knew he was in no state to get moving now did not help matters in the least. If he was younger, he would already be halfway to Dragonblight, but he was no longer able to move so quickly.
Snarling quietly, Nar'grin tried to hold back tears. He was terrified for his girl, and furious that he was too weak to help her. Ancestors help him, he could not even be sure if she lived; he was not strong enough for another dip into the Spirit of Life - it took more effort than he could give again without serious consequences. Nar'grin knew it would be too much; it wouldn't kill him, but it would likely be very close, and Ahnka didn't have that much time. He would have to wait before trying to reach her again.
His stomach grumbling, Nar'grin reached over the side of the hammock for his pack. He pulled out one of the loaves of bread, and a dragonfruit he'd packed. The dragonfruit almost started his tears again, as he remembered how intently Ahnka had cared for the tree the fruit had come from. Sitting up carefully (the hammock rocked too easily, and too much, for Nar'grin's comfort), he crossed his legs, and bit into the loaf of bread.
It was a bit harder than it had been when he packed it, but the inside was still soft and light. He ate his fill of the bread, and turned to the dragonfruit. Its taste was sweet, and he savored the mouthful. Eating this fruit now, he realized he'd forgotten to find someone to care for the garden in his absence; that old widow who lived nearby, she could have been counted on, if only he'd thought to ask. As it stood, because of his single-minded desire to play the gallant hero, Ahnka would probably lose her beloved garden.
"Are you not hungry, elder?"
The voice that spoke was strange, echo-y, like the Forsakens', but louder, and almost as though there was a second voice speaking in unison with the first. Nar'grin turned to behold a blood elf gazing steadily at him, her head cocked to one side.
She was as pale as the clump of snow that clung to the hem of her cloak. Her hair was snowy white, as was her skin. Indeed, the only color she had was her eyes; they glowed a dim, light blue. A deathknight.
For an instant, Nargrin knew terror. Deathknights were servants of the Lich King; minions of the monster who had taken his baby from him. But this one... Nar'grin knew of the Battle for Light's Hope, and of the contingent of deathknights under Highlord Darion Mograine, who had defected, and rejoined the factions they'd been a part of in life. Clearly, here was one of those folk.
She was no threat, no danger, in that case, and yet, Nar'grin found he still could not accept her. Her very presence radiated cold, and she reminded him pointedly of Ahnka's predicament, and how much he longed to cut a swath through all the Scourge wretches who had done her harm.
"No," he replied flatly, shaking his head.
"It is likely not my place," the deathknight said in her echoing voice, "but do you need a healer? You look unwell."
Nar'grin frowned, and steadily looked away, touching the bear bracelet.
"I am only tired from a long journey," he said curtly, his eyes narrowing.
The deathknight was silent for a time, and Nar'grin began to hope she would give up and leave him in peace.
"What is your name?"
So much for hoping.
For a long moment, Nar'grin simply glared at her. He did not want to tell her anything. Undead abominations like her had taken his granddaughter - his only family - captive, and were doing ancestors only knew what to her at the very moment. They had attacked his home city, brought age to Ahnka's eyes prematurely. What could a piece of that kind of monstrosity accomplish but evil?
But he had been raised not to be rude.
"Nar'grin," he muttered.
"Good," the deathknight grinned. "I am Xephyra. I was sent to find you by a troll - Aannu."
Nar'grin tensed. If this creature was actually part of the Scourge, here in disguise, that would mean she'd hurt the young huntress. The dear child did not deserve such an end. As discretely as he could, Nar'grin reached for the staff leaning against the wall beside his hammock. He had been unable to protect Ahnka, but he would not let Aannu fall into their Scourge clutches.
Xephyra seemed to sense his frostiness, and she bristled. Nar'grin thought she had quite a nerve, to get offended by his dislike of her.
"She told me you are looking for someone."
Nar'grin jolted, mentally cursing. Why would Aannu tell someone - especially a former servant of the Lich King - anything about him? It was hardly her business to begin with.
"My granddaughter," the elderly shaman bit out. He refused to give her any more details.
The deathknight sighed.
"Nar'grin! Elder!"
Thank the ancestors... Nar'grin thought, feeling his body relax far more than he'd thought it would. At least this brave - if foolish - girl had not come to harm. Aannu dropped fluidly to the floor, cross-legged, by the hammock. She had the remains of a drumstick from some animal in one hand, and a large grin on her face. Another elf sat beside her, in a manner vaguely similar to Aannu's. She had black hair, and ivory-fair skin. The set of her eyes seemed familiar; the high cheek bones, and the braid over her shoulder...
"I know you..." he murmured.
"Torild Dawnsinger," the dark-haired elf clarified gently. Nar'grin nodded in recognition - Torild was one of the few blood elves who lived in Orgrimmar; Nar'grin knew her face well, she lived so close to his hut. "If my sister has upset you, I can assure you she is on our side... Her will is her own once more, and she can be trusted."
"Torild," the colorless elf said firmly. "I will not apologize for what I've done. Old one, I am just as much a victim as you. My will was ripped out of me. I could no more think 'no,' than a dwarf could grow tall. I am sorry that these horrors were committed, but I won't apologize for my body being used to perpetrated them."
Nar'grin nodded shortly, and looked down at his bracelet.
Aannu looked between the old orc and the two elven sisters. She pouted slightly, hoping this coldness could be remedied.
"Torild says dey know Ahnka," the troll coaxed, silently begging Nar'grin to take the bait.
Nar'grin froze, then looked sharply up at the elves.
"It is true, elder Nar'grin," Torild agreed. Her expression turned even graver. "Ahnka, Xephyra, and I were just three of the many who were tricked into helping Putress make the plague that was used at the Wrathgate. In the process, somehow, we became immune to it - to an extent."
"'Many' of you were reinforced against it?" Nar'grin echoed. Xephyra nodded.
"At least twenty of the Horde's forces, and a couple of Alliance folk," she recounted. She looked away with disgust and hatred. "Putress played us like harp strings..."
Torild put a hand on her shoulder.
"What happened to her?" Nar'grin demanded, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the hammock so tightly his knuckles paled. Torild hung her head.
"We do not know. Xephyra and I both lost track of her in the fighting. I am sorry."
"We were chased afterward," Xephyra added. "We could not have looked for her if we'd wanted to."
Nar'grin's heart fell. He hated being cooped up here, waiting. It had not been a day, but time dragged so slowly it might have been weeks. It was infuriating, and adding a deathknight to the mix only frustrated him further. But Aannu was right; neither orc nor troll knew anything about the lay of the land here. Alone, they would be lost. And Torild's news had sent his hopes soaring.
If there had been at least twenty people who were somewhat immune to the effects of the newest plague, then there were survivors. That news must have been only weeks behind the original report that none had lived. It was also likely that most of those folk had died - if not in the fighting, or when the plague was dropped, then when the dragons came - but it still gave him better hope for his girl. If, somehow, she had been unaffected by the plague, she could be alright. Nar'grin knew she could not be completely unharmed – she was being held captive by monsters – but at least she was not suffering from the plague on top of the horrors of torture.
"If you would have us," Torild offered with a kind smile, "Xephyra and I could take you to Icecrown Citadel. We know the way… too well.."
Nar'grin nodded. "We need a guide," he sighed. "And as no other is forthcoming…" He spread his hands.
Torild beamed, and Xephyra nodded.
"Whenever you are ready to leave, my friends," the darker elf said, bowing her head in respect. Xephyra simply looked away.
"Sometime in de mornin', den?" Aannu asked, twisting her neck to look at Nar'grin upside down. "Afta breakfast, yah?"
Nar'grin nodded.
"First thing after breakfast."
"Then sleep, now, friends," Torild smiled. "We will meet you at breakfast in the morning. Goodnight."
Aannu bid them good night, too, but Nar'grin did not respond. He dropped back in the hammock, drained, his eyes closed tightly.
Ahnka was not in as much pain as he'd thought – not suffering as much as he'd feared. She was not fighting against torture and that plague. What had made her immune, he did not know, but he was thankful for it.
The day had exhausted him, but he was so elated. They had a guide, now, to lead them into Dragonblight, and Icecrown beyond. Ahnka's chances were better than he'd feared. His hope of seeing her safe again in her garden in Orgrimmar solidified a bit.
For the first time in his life, Nar'grin was glad to know a deathknight. Xephyra and Torild could bring them straight to Icecrown Citadel, and Ahnka, faster than he and Aannu would be able to get there on their own. All this nightmare would be over that much sooner, now.
Nar'grin woke feeling only marginally less sore than he had yesterday. The hammock had not effected his back as badly as the wooden floor of the zeppelin had, but it was still not as soft as his sleeping furs back home.
It was difficult to determine the time inside Warsong Hold; no natural light penetrated this far into the fortress. What decided him that it must be time for breakfast was the smell of roasting meat. In the hammock behind him, Aannu snuffled in her sleep, shifting to her side and sniffing. The smells woke her, and she blinked blankly at Nar'grin.
The old orc had to chuckle. Aannu's hair was an utter mess, and she looked rumpled. The sleepy smile on her face reminded him too keenly of Ahnka, and he felt a knife stab his soul.
"Mornin', mon," Aannu murmured, rubbing at her eyes. She shook her head, purple hair flying around her. She was awake fully, now, and bounced from the hammock to her feet. Nar'grin shook his head, and used his staff to pull himself up. He'd slept better than he had since Ahnka had left Orgrimmar, but he was still stiff. He stretched backward, one hand pressed into his lower back. Several cracking and popping sounds made Aannu cringe as she stood beside him.
"Good morning," Nar'grin replied hoarsely. He cleared his throat, and spoke again. "Let's go..." With Aannu following him, Nar'grin shuffled forward, following the smells of meat and fresh bread.
"We gonna get on de road after, you said?" Aannu asked as they walked. The orc shaman nodded.
"Yes. I do not wish to waste any time, Aannu." In a softer voice, more to himself than to the young troll, he added, "Only the ancestors know what those wretches are doing to her..."
Though they sickened him, Nar'grin kept the thoughts of Ahnka's captivity in his mind; they made him move quicker, gave him an extra determination to get to her sooner. Remembering how she needed him gave him the strength to hurry forward in his mission.
The dinning area was just another area of the Hold; a great, open room, where the races of the Horde sat around on the floor, eating from pewter crockery, or whatever metal the Hold's blacksmiths had made the plates and cutlery from.
Nar'grin's stomach growled annoyingly, and he shuffled over to where the cooks were dishing out the food. It was a thick, meaty stew, and under normal circumstances, the old shaman would have been more than happy to have it. But these were not normal circumstances, and he felt almost sick; Ahnka, more than likely, was starving, cold and alone in a dungeon in Icecrown Citadel.
A mug of some steaming liquid was pressed into his hands, and Nar'grin found himself looking at a very submissive-seeming Forsaken woman.
"It is cold here," she said in a rasping voice. "You looked like you could use something warm and restoring..."
She looked away from him, clearly thinking she had overstepped her place, and expected him to be angry with her. He was not, but he could understand why she would be so nervous; the betrayal of Putress at the Wrathgate.
"Shut your traitorous mouth, worm-fodder," a large orc snapped. The Forsaken, a small, thin figure, tensed and looked down.
"My apologies..." she murmured.
Nar'grin could see from her demeanor that she could not have been one of the Forsaken who had joined with Putress; not to mention the fact that she was here, and no one was trying to kill her. Glaring momentarily at the other orc (he noticed with some satisfaction that Aannu visibly bared her teeth at him), he turned back to the Forsaken woman with a smile.
"Thank you," he said gently. "What is your name?"
"Skya," the woman sighed, her eyes flicking back to the orc behind her. "I really must get back to my post, now."
Nar'grin shook his head.
"Everyone here is fed; I cannot imagine that many more will come. Why not come and eat with my friends and I?"
Skya seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes flicking back toward the orc glaring askance at them. At length, she nodded, and moved to follow the orc and troll.
Behind them, the orc cook snarled. He stormed forward, and snatched Skya's arm. Though she froze, for an instant, fury flashed in her yellow eyes.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, tugging hard enough to make her stumble. Aannu was suddenly between them, growling and baring her tusks - large for a female troll.
"Wit' us," she hissed. "You got a problem wit' dat, mebbe I let you take it up wit' my fist?"
The cook's lips drew back, and he rumbled in harsh orcish. Nar'grin watched as Aannu visibly bristled, and, in the interest of avoiding confrontation, put a restraining hand on the troll's shoulder.
"Enough, Aannu," he whispered. Turning to the younger orc male, he added; "Your treatment of this woman is disgraceful. She has done nothing. Let go of her."
Nar'grin might have been old, small, and thin as a rail, but the look on his face caused the orc cook to take a step back. His eyes narrowed in anger, but he said no more, snarling as he turned back to the large pot of stew.
Once the other orc had turned away, Nar'grin turned another gentle smile to Skya.
"Come along," he said gently, turning around to look for the two blood elves.
Torild and Xephyra were seated together, off to one side of the room, and when she saw them, Torild waved, standing and smiling as they approached. On the floor between her and her sister a map was spread out.
"This is Skya," Nar'grin introduced. "She will eat with us. Skya, these are our friends, Torild and Xephyra."
"I be Aannu, by de way," Aannu smiled, dropping fluidly to the floor. Nar'grin settled stiffly beside her, patting the ground next to himself and watching as Skya crouched gingerly.
As they ate, Torild turned to the map.
"Our route will not be the easiest," she warned. "We can take the main road, but only until this delta, here. The Nerubians hold the road around Icemist Village; Azjol'Nerub is literally right beneath it. Once we reach Angmar's hammer, we should be safe."
Here, Xephyra shook her head, and pointed to a spot on the map by a depiction of a volcano.
"Moonrest Gardens and Star's Rest are too close here. I know your feelings about the Alliance, but they cannot be trusted, Torild. We'll have to go to Wyrmrest Temple, and fly to the Argent Vanguard from there."
Torild frowned for a long moment.
"We cannot go to the Argent Vanguard on foot; the Obsidian Dragonshrine is not a place i would lightly trust," she muttered, "and flying will run us right into the frost wyrms. If we cut across the Broken Front from Wyrmrest, we will have to fight, even in the air. Going through the mountains is out of the question; the Scourge is too plentiful there, and the vrykul are everywhere."
Nar'grin straightened, his face taking on a determined, stubborn expression.
"I did not come here expecting an easy time," he said. "If it will get me there the sooner, I would fight off black dragons, to reach the Citadel. Whatever must be done, let it."
Skya looked at him for a moment in confusion.
"What is there for you in Icecrown Citadel?" she murmured, stunned by the frail old orc's vehement words. Nar'grin glanced at her with a cold anger that was not directed at her.
"My granddaughter," her growled, looking back to Torild and Xephyra. "When will you two be ready to depart? I am packed, and Aannu, I would assume, is ready as well."
For the first time, Xephyra smiled. A lust for revenge glittered in the back of her glowing blue eyes.
"As soon as you are ready."
And that's the chapter! Things might slow down now, because I'm back in school, and my weekends are taken up with my job. I hope to keep up with this relatively regularly, but this might go the way of my other stories; updated infrequently because of time... In any case, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Review, please!
