When the sun rose, he found her in the same position he had left her in, though thankfully her eyes were closed and breaths deep with sleep. Triki was already awake, stoking the fire to warm the heavy iron kettle for tea.
"You're a bastard," Triki whispered, loud enough only so that the rogue could hear him.
Apoch rose, careful to not jostle the girl before turning around to sit by the fire opposite the Shaman. He ran his fingers against the grain of his hair before reaching over to grab his pants he had kicked off during the night.
"You really expected she would change me into something else? She can't erase what I've done, who I am."
"That was who you were, not who you are to become," Triki snapped back, leaning over to hand Apoch a cup. They shared a moments glare before he accepted it, running his thumbs over the rough clay. For a long time there was nothing said, the younger troll lost in thought as he stared sightlessly at the fire.
"Will she forgive me?"
"The minute she does, you'll only hate her again."
Triki turned to rummage through his herbs noisily, finding a satchel of his liking and pulling the kettle off the open flames to put the bag into it with an elderly groan of effort. An alarm went off in Apoch's mind when he realized the shaman was watching him out of his peripheral as he went about his tasks.
He ducked instinctively, the staff whooshing over his head with enough force to have knocked him out cold. The rogue twisted with feline grace, grabbing Iscah's wrist as she coiled it back for another swing at him. He wove his free hand under the wood and twisted it against her grasp, letting it clatter to the floor and flinching as her free hand came up to slap him in the face with as much strength as she could muster, her palm catching on his tusk instead.
Apoch snagged her arm and crushed her against his bare chest before she could hurt herself any further, staying silent as her frustrated screeches and thrashings finally caved into gasping sobs. He exhaled slowly, sinking to the ground to let her cry herself out against the crook of his shoulder, casting a condemning glance at Triki who was watching with a thoughtful expression.
"I gave it to the Keeper Ordanus."
"Gave what?"
"The dagger."
Apoch's brow furrowed, turning his attention to the Shaman further and waiting for a better explanation.
"You didn't think such a prophecy wouldn't come with some sort of help, did you? But unfortunately, I lost a game of bones with that sly demon and since he is the 'Keeper' he demanded custody of it."
Apoch blinked, musing over this information. He had heard of Ordanus but that was the extent of his knowledge; rogues had little interest in druidic communion, much less one that was allied with the Night Elves.
"So I'm guessing that's where I'll be heading next."
"Where you and Iscah will be heading, yes."
"No, there's no chance. You know those roads, she wouldn't last five minutes on them."
"You'll take care of her," Triki stated, pouring himself a cup of tea and leaning back. "You can't protect her from yourself if she is not nearby. Besides, the dagger will not accept you until you fully accept her."
"Incomprehensible fool," Apoch muttered. Still though, the thought of a new weapon was alluring. Without realizing it, he began running his fingers through Iscah's hair soothingly. The shaman had seen his arsenal, for him to have even bring up the dagger, it must be worth the time to go find it. Without Iscah he could make that journey in a matter of a day by buying a flight from the Goblins in Ratchet, but they wouldn't give her passage no matter how much gold he dumped in their lap. That meant three days of hard riding in lands inhospitible to the human mage.
A shooting pain in his bicep snapped him out of his musings, a low snarl escaping him as he jerked back and dumped Iscah onto the ground along with his blade she had stabbed him with. Triki chortled before handing him a piece of burlap with salve already on it, obviously having known the girls intentions this time as well.
Apoch smudged the ointment across his wound and sucked in a breath as the pain increased exponentially, glaring at the Shaman.
"What the hell!?"
Triki watched with a hint of disappointment on his features, looking from the small cut that had healed to a grey scar in a matter of seconds back to him.
"That wasn't meant for you."
"Wh-.." Apoch balked, his attention switching to the young girl and actually taking a moment to really look at her.
Her face was a sickly white, the color in her lips drained to a pale shade and hairline greyed with sweat. She had wrapped her arms around her bare chest, tremors shaking her small frame as she sat glaring murder at him. When his eyes moved down he saw a fresh puddle of blood growing steadily beneath her hips. His heart dropped, realizing their little struggle had ripped open the wounds his rape had caused, and he pushed his hand through his hair nervously.
"Don't you have more?"
"No."
"Fix her, Shaman!" He snarled, baring his fangs towards the elder and taking a threatening step forward. Triki's eyes narrowed to match his.
"I'm not the one who caused it, so why should I have to clean up your mess? Step up and take responsibility for your actions."
The troll threw his arms in exasperation, stalking a small path back and forth in fury before rubbing his face. The elder was right; he had done this. There wasn't even a possible way to deny his guilt for hurting the girl this badly. Letting his hands drop away he went to the strings of herbs Triki had been drying out and took his pick before going to Iscah's pack and pulling out a clean cotton dress. Setting the supplies next to her he grabbed a bowl and poured fresh water out of the kettle into it, kneeling in front of Iscah and ripping the dress into long bandages.
Iscah watched on with distrust, having gathered from the conversation between Triki and the rogue the shaman was refusing to aid her.
To hell with both of them, she could do it herself.
She picked up the bowl of hot water and set it closer, Apoch looking up at her when she reached for a fresh strip of cloth he had put down.
"Go away you bastard, I can take care of myself."
He grunted, Iscah making an angry sound in the back of her throat when he reached over to her. She slapped his hand away and his eyes hardened, grabbing her arms and pulling her into his lap. Iscah tried to worm out of his grasp but it did no good besides cause her even more sharp stabs of pain between her legs. She bit back a whimper but couldn't stop the tears, stilling as he laid her down across his thighs when she gave up.
Taking the cloth from her hands he dipped it in the water, waiting to let it cool slightly before beginning to run it across the top of her pelvis to wash away the dried blood. She turned her head away from him when he moved down further, his ministrations becoming much more gentle as he ran the rag between her netherlips, revealing the extent of the damage he had caused.
Setting the ruined rag aside he picked up the herbs, crushing them between his palms until they were almost as fine as dust before wrapping them up in another fresh strip of cloth as a poultice. He dipped it in the water before murmuring something apologetic beneath his breath, spreading the petals of flesh apart with his fingers and pressing the material against the ragged wound. Iscah mewled in pain as the herbs stung, trying to push his hand away. He moved one arm to loop beneath her neck and cradle her, the other keeping the satchel pressed tightly against her flesh.
"A'kee," he crooned, massaging her arm comfortingly. The scalding pain slowly began to dull into something more manageable, and she finally cracked her eyes open to look up into his. There was so much confusion in his gaze, but even more shocking was the guilt. She knew he hated it, knew without having to ask this emotion was something utterly new to him. He was the first to look away, suddenly uneasy at their closeness though he didn't let her go.
The minutes passed, the awkwardness of the situation growing to a silent climax before fading out, and yet still he didn't let her go. Iscah glanced up to watch him out of the corner of her eyes, suddenly aware that he was so deeply lost in thought he had forgotten all about her or the improper position they were in. When she cleared her throat he flinched, rousing from whatever reverie he had been in before setting her down on the sleeping palette gently before moving away.
"Triki, I need to go back to Ratchet for supplies then if it's gonna be this way. Watch over her."
Without waiting for an answer he rose, donning his shirt as he walked out of the cave and mounted his raptor. The two vanished without a sound, leaving Iscah and Triki watching their departure in silence.
Triki sighed heavily, taking a sip of his tea before looking at his charge.
"I can't face this Triki, I can't stay with this monster," she finally managed in a quavering voice that bordered tears.
"You can't go home, what's been put into motion is beyond you now. If you leave, inevitably he will come back, or you will go to him. It all depends how much time you want to waste, or even if you have the time to waste at all."
Heavy tears rolled down her cheeks, but Iscah still shook her head even though she knew the Shaman was telling the truth. "I just want to go home."
"I know my dear," he smiled somberly, taking another slurp of tea. "But you must follow your husband."
Iscah swayed at his words, the entirety of the situation sinking in suddenly. She was married to a troll, and wanted to go home? To what home? They would see her as an outcast now, and even if her family forgave her and covered up the whole debacle she would forever wear a scar for all to see. Lifting her arm she at the criss-crossing marks, trying to make sense of it all. Even if she left him, there was no where to go. No where that would take her, even if she could survive the wilderness. She let her arm drop as her choices became clear; it was either stay with Apoch or face uncertainty alone.
Apoch retraced their steps back to Ratchet so that he could reduce their supplies, having already decided to take the less dangerous track to the forests of Ashenvale by cutting directly north. It would keep them well east of the main crossroads town, but would also leave them out of range of any water supply. If he kept their pace brutally swift, they could cross the grasslands of Kalimdor in two days and hopefully keep her from being seen.
He exchanged his battle leathers for unbleached drawstring linen pants and a matching shirt, packing away his gear and weapons into his all but empty bag and shouldering it before heading to the inn for some last minute supplies. Crossing the small port of Ratchet he looked out over the water to the east, towards the peninsula where the village he called home was.
I'll be home soon enough, he thought to himself, stepping into the shade of the rickety inn and crossing to a back corner where an orc was snorting a line of purple dust.
"Hey mon, I be needin' a sleepin' draught," Apoch murmured in orcish, low enough so that only the other could hear as he dropped into the seat opposite the table to the dealer.
"That's not your usual order," the orc replied, sniffing sharply before lifting bloodshot eyes up to look at his customer. Apoch didn't respond, save for setting a small bag of gold coins between them.
"So the High Warlord is back on the warpath. There are a few upstarts that are gonna be pissed."
"I'm not coming back mon, just need ta clean up a few loose ends."
"Yeah, that's how it always starts."
Apoch looked down at the empty table. "You gettin better, Garl."
"And you're getting older, Apoch." They exchanged grins before the troll leaned back in his chair comfortably, waiting as Garl stood and went upstairs, only to come back with a small vial of deep green liquid.
"Odorless, colorless once put in liquid or food. Should take about five to ten minutes to knock out your victim and keep them out for twelve to twenty-four hours."
Apoch nodded and reached for the potion Garl had set between them.
"My guess is it'll take about six minutes to knock out a human female."
His hand froze, the smile fading from his lips as his gaze flicked dangerously from the table to the orc without lifting his head. Garl held his stare in a drugged stupor for a moment before lowering his voice and pursing his lips so they couldn't be read.
"There's muscle looking for her. Big muscle. Daddy misses his little girl and hellbent on searching every place in Azeroth until he finds her corpse."
Apoch didn't move, Garl turning to spit a mouthful of phlegm on the floor.
"Not my business why you're running around with a love-sick puppy at your heels, but I figure you should know. Call it a customer appreciation bonus."
He rose smoothly, Garl belching a laugh as the vial disappeared between the trolls fingers in plain sight.
"This shit is good or you've gotten better."
Apoch smirked and took his leave, the smile vanishing instantly when he was out of sight of the poison dealer. He should kill Garl for knowing too much, but he suspected the orc was doing that just fine on his own with the addictions the money he had amassed on the black market was buying him.
He stopped at the well to fill the five large canteens he had bought and drink his fill, dousing himself with water before returning to Bu'u who was waiting patiently under the shade of a palm tree. The hot breeze wicked the moisture away from his skin and hair within minutes, but he didn't mind. Having been raised in the jungle and trained on these very grass belts left him used to the heat, his race well-adapted to such environments.
Securing his bags and the water supply he remounted, Bu'u already shying towards the trail that led back to Triki's cave before breaking into a dead run when his rider gave him free reign. Apoch snorted a laugh at his mount, who seemed genuinely excited to return back to the useless mage. At least one of them was.
The raptor coughed a warning that shook Apoch out of his musings, focusing on the trail ahead and Triki shambling as quickly as he could on his gnarled foot. He reigned to a stop, anxiety raising at the look on the shamans face.
"Iscah... gone," Triki puffed, leaning on his stick heavily.
"You fool! Where did she go?!"
The old man shook his head, still too out of breath to reply. Apoch cursed prolifically, snapping the reigns against Bu'u's haunches. Knowing how ignorant the girl was her trail would be easy to follow once found. He just hoped he found her before the pirates did.
The brittle grass bent and hissed beneath her feet as she moved through it, her little pants of breath in double to her pace. It was so hot, and so blindingly bright on the savannah and the pain of walking was becoming more and more unbearable. Already the raw tear had reopened, but there was nothing to be done besides press on. She readjusted the little satchel of supplies swung over one shoulder she had stolen from Triki's when the old man had fallen into a noisy sleep, though now she regretted not having taken more water and some medicine for her wound. Already the water bag she had filched was bone dry, half drunk, the other part used to try to clean the blood that had begun to seep again down her legs off. It had been a bad decision, one, like so many she realized with a rueful smile, that she had come to regret.
After having picked up from Apoch's parting words he was heading to Ratchet it had left her options slim. She could go to the pirates, but whether or not they would return her to her father or just kill her was up for grabs. She almost believed dying would've been simpler than facing her parents humiliation. Instead she headed northwest, circling the mountain that Triki's cave was carved into and heading out into the open dry plains. Ashenvale was her destination, though now she was beginning to think she might not even be able to make it. Not even four hours into her solitary journey and she was out of water and only halfway sure she was even going in the right direction. Anything was better than being that monster's property though.
A chirp echoed over the all but noiseless plain, and Iscah stopped to listen for it again, turning to look behind her through squinted eyes.
Bu'u chirped again happily when he saw the mage had spotted them, Iscah watching the two race across the sea of gold towards her. Without thinking she dropped her bag and ran for the only baobab tree within view, the troll bellowing what sounded like a warning.
Iscah looked up from her tunnel vision on the tree when the grass moved a dozen yards away, panic making her limbs run cold when she realized the shape was a lioness hunting her. When she met the alert, gold eyes the regina sprung into action, muscles visible beneath her tawny fur as she hurled herself over the ground at alarming speed. The mage froze in fear, watching the animal barrel towards her with fatal grace before the cat's side twitched violently as Apoch's blade sunk deep between her ribs. She stumbled before losing her footing, crashing into the dirt and rolling to a stop.
Another lioness caught her attention, her focus unbroken by the fall of the other female as she sprinted for the human. Iscah screamed the words for a fire spell and flames blazed to life across the cats face, her roar of pain shaking the girls ribcage though she had no time to watch; the entire pride was in on the hunt, and none of them seemed shaken at the loss of their mates.
A young male leaped for the mage, Iscah unaware of the attack until she heard the sound of bone crashing against bone, Apoch and Bu'u launching themselves into the fray. He ducked the massive paw that swung out at him with deceiving speed, lashing out with his remaining dagger though the male had backed off, sensing he was in over his head.
Two more females flew out of the grass for him, and the troll turned to face their feral attacks, moving with his own feline grace that matched the animals. One of the female's snarls cut off abruptly when his dagger found the side of her neck, sinking into the powerful muscles like they were clay before shoving the blade down and through her throat. The other female leapt onto him and he twisted with the impact, using his legs to launch her up and through the air, her tail whipping furiously in an attempt to land back on her feet.
The male chose then to attack, slapping his paw across Apoch's back and drawing a ragged scream from the rogue as his claws bit through the thin linen of his shirt and into his flesh. Bu'u took the male down before his master could respond, pinning the young rex to the ground and tearing a gash that went from the bottom of his ribcage all the way to his groin with his massive sickle claw, spilling his entrails onto the cracked dirt.
Apoch recovered but there was no fight left, the remaining lions retreating with their heads low and fear widening their piercing eyes. He roared at them and they broke into a full run, vanishing into the grasses. He turned and went back to the corpse of the lioness he had first killed, retrieving his dagger out of her side, exposing the four deep gashes on his back to the mage. She gasped in shock at the blood trickling out of them though he didn't even seem phased, going back over to Bu'u and rummaging through a satchel, pulling out needle, sinew, and a small vial of alcohol before turning back to her angrily.
"Wah weh quashi," he spat, smacking himself upside the head to signify the demeaning word. "Quashi!"
He hissed an exhale and went over to her, shoving the supplies into her hands before turning away and pulling off his shirt. Iscah felt her stomach roil at the sight of the fresh meat open on his back, taking a deep breath through her mouth as he squatted down in front of her expectantly.
"You want me to stitch you up? I-.. I don't know how. Im."
"TOR!" He snarled, Bu'u shying at the fury in his riders voice. Iscah flinched, biting the inside of her lip. He had saved her, for what reason who knew, but he had. Unstopping the alcohol she let the liquid drip across the open wounds, using up the supply entirely to make sure all of the area in and around them were sterilized. She then unwound the sinew threaded it, taking shelter in her self-righteous anger before crouching down behind him. She reached up hesitantly, brows furrowing as she pushed the needle into the edge of the wound and out the ragged edge. He didn't make a sound, though the tension permeating the air seemed to simmer down. Iscah stitched up the first gash awkwardly, but by the end of the first row her sutures looked more even. It wasn't nearly as daunting a task when she thought of it the same as her embroidery lessons her mother had dragged her through.
"I hate you, even if you did just save me, I still hate you," she said, stabbing the needle into his flesh a little harder than necessary. The muscles in his back shifted as he turned his head to glare over his shoulder venomously at her, sweat dripping down his face heavily. Iscah matched his look with a scowl of her own before pulling the thread through.
"First you want me to leave, and then I finally do and you chase after me," she continued, falling into an easy rhythm of stitching.
"You're so fickle and I'm sick of it. All I want is to get away from you, forget about you, and move on."
She tapped his knife curtly and he pulled it out of the sheath, twisting his arm around to hand it back to her without sparing another glance. She cut the sinew and set it back in his waiting palm, re-threading the needle and poking it into the top of the next gash. His deep rumble of displeasure at her less than gentle ministrations vibrated through her fingertips, and she ignored it.
"I was happy at the Mage University, studying their books. I had almost felt sorry for the trolls in the ancient wars, but now that I know one so personally good riddance; I hope your whole species gets wiped out. Perhaps I'll ask Truvien for that as a wedding present." Her voice faltered at the last thought, knowing she wanted to marry Truvien just about as much as she wanted to drown. So why say it? To spite Apoch? She smiled sardonically to herself, knowing that he couldn't understand anything she was saying anyways. It was a perfectly good speech filled with all bits of sordid lies that was falling on deaf ears.
Knotting the end of her last stitch she reached for his dagger to cut the string, placing it back into the sheath. "There, all done."
He shifted, turning around to face her casually though by the smouldering look in his eyes she knew he was furious. Reaching up slowly he took the needle out of her hand, locking her palm inside of his so that her index finger was extended out. With a leisurely movement he stabbed the needle into the pad of her finger, not allowing her to jerk it back when she gasped in pain.
"Deh'j yudo wha?" He teased caustically, watching her reaction with mock sympathy. Iscah glared bitterly at him, tempting the thought of slapping him with her free hand though it would be a useless move against the rogue.
Canting his head to the side he twisted her finger up to his mouth, hesitating for briefly before licking the heavy droplet of blood that was threatening to fall. He drew her digit into his mouth as his eyes closed, and Iscah could feel her heart begin to hammer against her chest at the sensation of his warm, satin tongue running over the tiny prick.
It felt like he was drawing something out of her, more than just blood. The well of magic inside her pulled through the wound, and he shuddered visibly as if he too, could feel the effect. Her breath sped up as he pulled her finger out of his mouth, drawing her wrist up to press his lips against her racing pulse exposed between the tendons. She exhaled silently when he rubbed the front of his canines against the tender skin as if he wanted to sink them into her vein before he ran his lips slowly up the length of her arm.
When he reached the first part of her exposed neck he stopped, his breath washing down across her back from his nose as he exhaled to take another deep inhale of her scent. The wiry hairs of his sideburns were brushing up against her cheek, and she turned to let them tickle her nose, breath catching in her throat when she felt his lips slide over her skin again in a gentle nip.
Almost grudgingly he pulled away, assessing her state with a glance before assuming she was alright. Bu'u came over as his master left, bumping her with his forehead gently before sniffing at her legs. Iscah shoved his face away quickly, but Apoch caught his raptors worried body language. Her wound. No wonder the lions were in such a frenzy.
"You would think after your run-in with the wolves you would've learned something, but I guess stupidity runs thick in the human breed," he muttered to himself, retrieving her bag she had dropped and rummaging through it to see if she had brought anything to help. Nothing. By the Loa's, how the hell had her race become so supreme?
Finding herbs out in the semi-dessert would take time, and the more spent out in the plains of his people, the more of a chance someone would see her. Weighing in on her wound versus both of them getting killed the latter won, and he went back to Bu'u to retrieve one of the canteens to take a deep draught, swishing the dust out of his mouth before pouring the rest of the contents into Bu'u's waiting maw. Tying the empty bottle to his saddle he went to Iscah and lifted her onto Bu'u's back, setting her down as tenderly as he could.
"No, princess. None for you unless you want to actually be a help rather than a burden and pull your weight for once," was his response to her thirsty stare at the four remaining bottles. He punched the raptor's jaw playfully and got a hiss in response, ducking a swing of talons from the beast and setting off again at a fast pace that Bu'u fell into step with easily. It was nearly dusk before they stopped again, the troll drinking a meager share of the water before offering his mount the rest of their portion.
Iscah slid off his back and wobbled away to sit in the grass while Bu'u drank his share with relish, though he stopped suddenly before the bottle was finished and turned to walk off, sitting down and using his back talon to pick out the flecks of mud the dust had formed in his nostrils.
Apoch walked over to the mage and handed her the raptors gift, collapsing next to her as he worked to catch his breath again. Iscah drank it in silence before putting the cap back on, drawing her knees to her chest and watching the sun set.
By the time she passed out, he had his breath back.
"Three minutes, Garl. You were off." He tisked theatrically, checking her pulse before pulling a small, smokey glass orb out of his bag he had stolen from Triki before having left for Ratchet.
He sat cross-legged and took it in both palms, closing his eyes in concentration as he focused on the magic held within it.
Yes?
"Dere be a debt you owe me I'm collectin on. Tomorrow night a human female will be at Nightsong Lake. I need you to dispose of her."
There was a long pause, the orb pulsing with subtle light.
Consider it done.
The connection cut off instantly, the orb's ethereal glow vanishing as well as it became inate in his hands once more.
The smile he expected to have never came, watching the stars come to life with a blank mind for a long time before finally stretching out and falling asleep under their mournful gaze.
