Chapter 12: Necessary Evils

Laiken, Krug and George slept in a camp, high above the main, beaten paths that they'd followed into the valley that was adjacent to the Stonetalon Mountains. They were still a reasonable distance away from Stonetalon proper, however, they had to straddle the border of the mountains due to their combined unfamiliarity with the terrain. Although the group's original plan had been to 'tough it out' against the remaining Alliance war machines and soldiers scattered throughout the area, upon the group nearing the aforementioned threat(s), George was quick to point out how heavily they were weighed down by supplies; not weapons, in addition to being sorely outnumbered. Instead; a quick, necessary decision was made for them to travel toward the valley near the entrance to the mountains – a fight would be a foolhardy choice, they surmised.

It was as the trio were nearing completion on the making of their encampment for the evening that George pulled Laiken aside for a stroll around their small; somewhat hidden-away enclave of jagged mini-peaks, cliffs an odd collection of desert plant life in an otherwise scattered, but dense region with a somewhat healthy ecosystem. The shape and relatively small size of the enclave made an almost perfect semi-circle except for a break in the rocky formations that led to a cliff that dropped some distance. George had reasoned that due to the entrance being fairly well hidden because of a mixed collection of juvenile and mature cacti, desert trees and tall brush – in addition to the cliff – that this would be perfect for their rest over the course of the night.

As they strolled, taking in the surrounding area (what little there was to be seen in their small enclave) George quickly rolled a cigarette for himself. His eyes glazed over to Laiken, who had met his gaze almost immediately. He smiled, holding up a lit match to the end of the cigarette before taking a long drag and exhaling with a sound of relief – even though Laiken didn't smoke, as his companions did, he could tell the cigarette was definitely satisfying.

The smoke rolled from George's half-open mouth and into the open air around the duo. Laiken raised his hand to waft away the stray cloud that had lazily wandered his way over to him, coughing ever so slightly when he accidentally inhaled some. At this slight cough, George let out a small cackle-like laugh.

"Gasping for air is funny to you?" Laiken was looking directly at him.

George took another long, equally satisfying drag from his cigarette.

"Why don't you try some? You might find that you enjoy it, after all", George said back, the cigarette dangling from one edge of his mouth.

"Try what, exactly? Coughing to death?" Laiken replied.

"I detest! Have you seen me cough to death from something such as this?" the warlock sarcastically quipped.

The smoke from the cigarette was still plenty, even as George held it in between his index and middle fingers of his left hand. The orange-colored ember made a slight trail whenever he would raise it to his lips to take a drag. The smell emanating from the cigarette was robust, however, at the same time it seemed sickly to Laiken.

"Why smoke? What benefits do you get from it?" Laiken finally said, breaking a small period of silence.

"Ah, an interesting question, my young friend. I will admit here, though, that one doesn't begin smoking for benefits. Quite the opposite, really, I find it's a nice way to decompress after a stressful day such as the hours preceding our setting up this camp after finding this hidden-away ridge. I, myself, love the feeling that comes when you take a drag for the first and sometimes second time of the day – a veritable head-rush from the tobacco, if it's cultivated right, can help get you in gear when you're dragging your feet in the morning... or whenever you decide it's time to wake up" George finished his explanation with another hearty drag.

Laiken thought about this for a moment. Even back on Astoria there were people who smoked cigarettes, it was almost commonplace to do so, in fact. He just couldn't wrap his head around smoking something purely for a slight high, or as George called it, a head-rush.

"So you merely chase the head-rush that comes with the first drag of the day?" he asked.

"And sometimes the second! Don't forget that."

"Interesting. It seems impractical. Aren't you worried that inhaling smoke might cause you to have trouble breathing?" Laiken's voice was tinged with genuine concern.

"Well, sure, Laiken – but there's a great quote from someone who's name I cannot remember at this time, but I think it sums up my opinion on it", George was adamant in his position.

"And that is what?"

"We all have our vices, and sometimes, our vices will have us", George said, a sound of some form of twisted pride echoing in his voice.

"That's it? That's your grand philosophy?" his response to the quote was quick and honest.

"Laiken; my dear boy, I am, above all else, a practitioner of a style of magic, that, less than 40 or so years ago, would see me beheaded if it was found out. Now, I won't justify my reason for smoking with that, definitely not – but you must see it from my perspective. I was taught from an early age that in order to find your way in the world you must be willing to take risks. Hell, when I was barely 14 I began to practice this illicit form of magic in secret from my mother and father, who had quite some social standing back then. It certainly didn't teach myself this magic; my instructor who had reared me in the arcane arts began to dabble, and being the risk-taker I am, I too began to dabble in it here and there..." he slowly trailed off, gazing at the smoke rising from the end of his cigarette.

"Well?" Laiken barked expectantly.

"Hmm? Oh yes! I suppose you know the rest of the story, then", he smiled as he lightly tapped his cigarette, causing ash to fall freely.

Laiken, annoyed instead of curious at this point, turned his thoughts to their surrounding environment. By now, the receding sounds of battle were becoming fainter still as time wore on. The night sky was illuminated in a wonderful purple hue, further exemplified by the brilliant white-silver shine of the larger of the two moons in the sky. Walking over to the part of their camp that had a view of the landscape below the cliff-face, Laiken peered over the edge.

From what he could see, at the bottom of the cliff, there was a long stretch of almost open plains that went on, unabated, for a mile or so before lowering further into an uneven stretch of wheat-colored short grass that held upon it any random combination of cacti, desert-living trees and the occasional odd rock. The scene of the battle the trio had avoided was in these wheat-colored grass plains, now a graveyard. The war machines of the Alliance and its soldiers were busily tending to the wounded, recovering weapons and rounding up Horde prisoners of war. Listening closely, Laiken could hear, in almost a whisper because of the distance, the yelling of orders by the victors.

As examined these things, Laiken began to consider his group's seemingly monumental task. A task that, while not exactly unwelcome, wasn't what Laiken had imagined himself to be doing at this point in his life. He hadn't given much thought to his life beyond the small, almost forgotten island that he called home. There wasn't some great calling, or desire that burned steadily within him to forge an "epic" destiny for himself and yet, somehow here he was, out somewhere he hadn't ever been or seen before with two... strangers.

Not that he considered his current company to be bad or anything of the sort, however, he still considered them strangers. Their escape from Kraven bonded the trio, yes, but Laiken still was unsure of his companions. Perhaps not Krug as much as George, though. George was... powerful. Not because of anything he had said to Laiken or to Krug, but Laiken could sense an energy around the man whenever he was around. A kind of slow, steady draining seemed to permeate the immediate area around him, not one that would kill, but one that could put someone to sleep for a very long time.

His demeanor was also... off-putting. Sarcasm wasn't anything Laiken was unfamiliar with, however, George almost seemed detached, like he was so far removed from the struggles that people in this age faced that he had to be sarcastic just to fit in his place. If Laiken had to guess, his first would be that was why George chose to use his power and apparent resources to help. However, something didn't sit entirely right with that explanation - George didn't seem the type to really care of his demeanor on others, or even their opinion of his demeanor. Krug didn't seem to mind George's aloofness, but then again, Krug wasn't on the same ground that Laiken... and even George seemed to be.

For a while, Laiken sat on the edge of the cliff, doing his best to remain concealed yet somewhat comfortable in his perch. It might have seemed an impossible thing to the onlooker, but Laiken was used to his body, however tall and muscular it might be, he was still skinny. He scratched his cheek, allowing his hand to slowly move over the stubble that was forming on his face. A rueful, almost impish smile formed on his face at the thought of Kai nagging him to keep a clean shave and the thought of Frist nagging at Kai for nagging at him.

He did miss them, his family. At these images, Laiken again began to wonder why he was even here in the first place. At the root of it, Lucien was in danger, or dead. That was what set him out, but how did he end up with Krug and George? He got rather impatient, sitting there, festering in these thoughts, so he brushed himself off to carefully raise to a standing position. George, hearing this, walked over.

"Something troubling you?" he said, gazing out at the same visage Laiken had.

Laiken shrugged and gaze him a tired glance – meandering over to the piecemeal bedding that he had set up when they made camp. His mind wouldn't rest though, questions burning with a hellbound desire to be answered. George paced around the camp infrequently, at one point bringing out a large, black-leather bound book and reading it with impressive focus. Finally, Laiken approached George.

"Earlier you had said that the magic you practice was illicit? Is it still?" he asked, keen on listening to the older human's response.

"Hard to say. Well, hard for me to say, anyways."

"Why for? I mean... why is is hard for you, specifically, to say if it is or not?" Laiken's first question had seemed so simple in hindsight.

George paused at this question, a very brief flicker of orange bled into his eyes. He sighed and placed a mark in his book, setting it down.

"Is there some reason you are asking?" he pointedly asked.

Now it was Laiken's time to think before speaking. He had a rough idea of why he had began this line of inquiry, however the idea wasn't formed to fruition. He couldn't seem to put his finger on it, exactly, but it was on the tip of his half-orcish, half-human tongue.

"It seems a risk. An unnecessary one... so I wanted to know why even take it? Aren't there magisters and mages that would make you think twice before stepping to them?" Laiken responded trying to keep his voice in a steady, firm tone, something he wasn't quite used to.

George seemed to break from his trance of what seemed to be annoyance and a smile broke out across his aged face. He laughed out loud, a heartfelt and genuine laugh it seemed. So genuine and heartfelt it was that it took Laiken off-guard and he cringed.

"Is that what magic is to you, then? A never-ending quest for power?" George asked, the smile still holding on his face.

Laiken shrank for a moment, realizing how broad a question he had asked. Looking back on his life in brief, Laiken had never met any mages, let alone anyone that could cast a spell more complex than conjuring a glass of water. Shaking these thoughts away, Laiken persevered and continued.

"I've never met anyone that could cast magic in anyway that could be considered educated in the arts. Of course I've met plenty of priests, and the man I am looking for is a paladin – a knight of the Silver Hand, no less. I understand the concept of magic, but what I don't understand is why would you want to practice a form of magic that was illicit and could result in your beheading? You said you were taught in the arcane arts by your instructor, who in turn came into practicing shadow magic – so why did you choose to follow his example?" the words came out of his mouth much more honed and confident than he had expected.

George's smile still remained, but it hardened. Almost like a bittersweet memory, or memories, had just entered his thoughts. He finally let the smile recede, and he sighed, taking out his pouch and lighting a cigarette once again. Taking a long drag, he exhaled in an upwards arc away from Laiken's face. He found a stump of a tree and brushed it off lazily before carefully sitting down and puffing on his cigarette. At length, he spoke again - this time in a reserved, almost sordid, tone of voice.

"I'm not going to open the book to you, Laiken Tearshorn. I'm not someone who speaks openly... or even proudly of my young adulthood..." he trailed off, taking a final few drags from his cigarette.

Laiken wondered for a moment if he would speak again. He looked at the man up and down where he sat on the tree-stump. The draining power Laiken felt constantly around him was still present as ever, and yet it almost wasn't. George had seemed to shrink when he sat and began to think about how he would answer the question posed to him. His eyes didn't quite seem as intense as they did normally.

"There are things... things that I'll never fully admit the truth of to anyone but myself... I'm not a killer, or a thief or anything of the like – I want you to understand that, please. But I am not perfect, nobody is. When I was younger, and Stormwind was under siege by the orcs, a lot of us had to make choices – if you could call them that", George chuckled.

"The First War?" Laiken's ears perked up.

"Is that what they're calling it these days? Then yes... yes the First War, as it were. Anyways, mages aren't exactly front-line warriors, they can create deadly shards of ice and crush someone under their own weight, but only from a distance. And with time. I wasn't very old, not as old as you think, back then. I was probably twenty-two or somewhere in that neighborhood... and while not a student anywhere at the Royal Academy of Magical Arts, I was still young. I was charged with leading the younger apprentices out of the city proper and to Ironforge through the Redridge Mountains", George said, his speech was slower and more concise now.

Laiken raised an eyebrow, diligently waiting for George to resume his story. But, to his surprise, George merely sat there now, quiet. He was absentmindedly toying with his robes.

"George?" Laiken nervously said.

George immediately took notice of Laiken's listening.

"Ah well... Redridge Mountains... Ironforge..." he trailed off again for a time, still toying with his robes.

"We can continue this at another time, George" Laiken said emphatically.

"No, lad, that's alright. I suppose you wanted to know and I suppose I was in the process of telling you... I just haven't told anyone this. Really ever. And I'm not sure that I want to give you too many details beyond a quick summation of the events after they had occurred" he was back in form, it seemed, the lingering slowness and sadness in his voice was gone.

"I hadn't asked about your history, George. I appreciate you trusting me with such a story, but I did only inquire as to if your practices are still outlawed", Laiken said, aware that George was not interested in continuing his story.

George seemed to sigh an inaudible sigh of relief at this. His smile returned once again and he, like so many times before, reached into his pouch for a cigarette.

"To answer your question, my dear boy, I am not entirely certain. I have not been to Stormwind since before the Dark Portal reopened, however from what I remember it was not entirely outlawed, but not fully accepted, either. Which is fine! Just the way I like it, if I do say so myself. I have no need for prolonged interactions with large swathes of people anymore, so it is all good! They, the Royal Family of Stormwind and its Council of Mages, need not know that I am still alive, and if they do already, then they need not know that I am anymore than an old man" he finished, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

"So why practice, then? Is it because you have no interest in people anymore?" Laiken asked.

"Because I had to", George fired back, almost sounding upended.

"Had to?"

"Yes, Laiken Tearshorn, because it was a necessary evil for me to learn these things. Evil it may be, it has saved... countless people. People who have no idea there was any danger in the first place – that is why" he declared.

"I see", Laiken quietly murmured.

With that, the duo took their places on their respective bedding. George seemingly fell asleep at once, whereas Laiken had many thoughts racing through his head, keeping him from slumber. At some point, a warm breeze blew through the encampment and lulled him into a restless sleep. When at last he woke, the sun was peeking through a clouded sky.

George and Krug had already stirred and were commiserating quietly as they ate their rations for the morning. Laiken joined them and ate quietly, his mind still stuck on the conversation he and George had the evening before. When the trio finished, they packed their things as best they could and set out down the pathway from their camp – Krug in the front and George in back, single file down the beaten path.

They made their way through some descending hills and out into a large clearing, where they could see for miles ahead. Coming to the remains of the battle from the night before, the group found little evidence save for some broken arms and armor, and the occasional odd blood-stain. The bodies, if there were any, were all gone.

"We must be through here. These fields provide little shelter or hiding places in the daylight, and if I'm correct we're a mere 15 or so miles from the front gates of Orgrimmar – and in the direction we're going we have about 30 or so miles before we hit Northwatch Hold – and I have no love for the men and women of Kul Tiras – no doubt they'd have no love for you and Krug", George mused as they came to a quick stop for a meal.

"Be that as it may, we have no other choice at present. I want to see Laiken through his quest safely! We must come up with some plan" Krug said through chewing.

"Tell us, then, Laiken, what is your plan after we reach your mother?" George inquired, looking directly at the pathway and ahead.

"I haven't given it much thought. I'll need to get across the sea at any rate, though, so I'm not sure if even doing all of this is worth merit. What do you know of her, Krug?" Laiken looked at the engineer.

"When I was apprenticing in Orgrimmar, she lived in the Valley of Spirits, a small section of the city that calls itself home for many shamans and druids. Her name was well respected though, from what I could gather anyway. Apparently shamans who communicate with the elements of water are increasingly rare and she has a natural gift for it", Krug explained, finishing his meal with a resounding snort.

"Why are the elements of water so important?" Laiken asked, seemingly to himself.

Krug, too busy gulping down water to answer, nudged his body in the direction of George, who had been intently listening to their interaction.

"Humans... and the Alliance in general aren't very familiar to the arts of shamanism. With the exception of draenei, the Alliance puts most of its magical faith and resources into holy magic. Paladins, priests and the like. Shamans cast their magic by communicating with the natural elements they derive their power from. Water, in most nature-magic-wielding circles, is channeled for the purposes of healing and life-bringing. There are exceptions of course, druids being notable, however shamans that heal draw their power from water" George finished, kneeling and beginning to draw a rough map-like shape in the dirt.

"So, then, why not see if she'll come with us?" Laiken was almost thinking out loud as he said this.

"Yes, why not, indeed? It is a good idea, in theory, yes, but you must consider her desires and needs, too. It has been... 19 years since she's seen you. A mere pup you were to her! Perhaps you never knew of her because that is what she wanted. Perhaps not. But to get your hopes up for a definitive answer before we even meet her is a bit much, no?" George said, fastening his belt and gear as the other two did the same.

Laiken grimaced to himself, feeling foolish for assuming such things. Glancing over at his companions as they strode through the vast fields, Krug was leading the way south-southwest and once again George was in the back, with Laiken in the middle. Single file. They walked in silence for a time before coming to a small set of trees gathered around a tiny pond with clean water. Beyond them for many miles were more fields, covered in the wheat-colored grass endlessly into the horizon. Before the horizon was what seemed to be a wall made of cowhide with strange, almost tribal, symbols adorning it all around, with at least one opening that Laiken could see from where they were.

"What's that ahead?" Laiken asked aloud.

"I'm not sure of the official name, but locals call that the Crossroads. Its a little camp run by some tauren hunters out of Thunder Bluff. I expect the tauren themselves to be friendly, but they aren't the only ones there, unfortunately. The safest place that we could go to from where would be Ratchet, but it would take at least another day and a half of walking to get there from the direction we're going now" Krug explained.

"Come now, my orcish friend, where to? You implied you had a general sense of where Hargu might reside now when we were holed up in my hideaway a week ago. Have you forgotten in the intervening days?" George's voice was filled with a tinge of sarcasm.

Krug stretched his arms, groaning loudly. He took a long sip of his water skin before kneeling down to the pond that was in front of him to refill it and immediately taking another long sip.

"There is a small valley on the foot of the Stonetalon Mountains. It is not more than half a day's trek from here, and I know many tauren druids go there for their training on flight – however, it is also a popular spot for shamans as well. Not just Horde shamans, either, but draenei. I only know of it by happenstance and a small bit of luck, but that is where I would lead us. It has been many years since she was seen in the Valley of Spirits or even Orgrimmar. She was shipped off to Northrend to assist the Taunka but her tour ended and she came back home. Hasn't been seen since", Krug went on.

"And you gathered all of this by merely being an apprentice in Orgrimmar?" disbelief was permeating George's tone of voice.

"Not merely! As I said before, she was reputable, being a skilled healer. Of course I learned of her 'disappearance' because that entire section of the city couldn't stop talking about it", Krug had finished with his water skin and now rested it on his belt.

"And you didn't serve in Northrend? A hermit I am, yes, but even I knew about the Lich King returning. Never went away! Just went to sleep for a few years, but I digress", George rambled on, almost forgetting the purpose of the conversation as he did so.

"No, I never said that. I did. Just not in... direct combat capacity, I'm an engineer by trade, remember? I was mainly in Warsong Hold in the Borean Tundra, I helped put up the iron walls and I designed a lot of the turrets that line the top of the fortress. So, no, not direct combat, but we had some close calls of our own" Krug finished, pointing at the hydro-spanner on his belt.

George seemed satisfied by this, and turned his gaze to Laiken.

"So, my question remains: What to do after your mother? If she'll come with, if she won't. Either way we've got to get you across the sea. Additionally, we have no solid reasoning to think that she'll even be there! Or alive at that..." George trailed off, perhaps hoping not to upset Laiken.

"We'll have to find out if she still lives, and if she does, if she's there. Krug said a half day to get to this valley from here? I think we'll go there, then. See what we can see", Laiken weakly finished his sentence, becoming less and less sure of his direction as he spoke.

"Well, as far as plans go, it works. For now. Let us make haste! I wish not to risk being seen any longer than we must!" George said.

At length, the trio found themselves once again back on the main road, bounded by unending fields on both sides. Keeping their distance from any people that might give them trouble, the group made an awkward shift toward the southeast. For some time, as the day waned on into the dusk, and dusk into twilight, Laiken's mind kept going back to the little bit of history George had hinted at. As the three begrudgingly decided to make camp and double down to the valley at first sunlight, Laiken paced around the small area uneasily.

Their camp wasn't as well hidden as their last, unfortunately, meaning the three would have to sleep in shifts. Krug was chosen first (or, rather, he chose himself first) to sleep and Laiken last. It was then, when Krug snorted his first snore of many that evening, that Laiken approached George slowly and somewhat nervously.

George sat upright in a sitting position against a huge tree. He leafed gingerly through the black-leather bound book that he carried when he noticed Laiken approaching. He slowly lowered the book and put a mark in it, shutting its covers. He raised a gray eyebrow and spoke softly.

"What troubles you?" he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Did they make it? Any of them?" Laiken asked, almost forgetting to add proper context.

"Them? As in the apprentices from a lifetime ago? Is that what concerns you so – their ultimate fate?" the cigarette burned slowly.

Laiken slowly nodded his head. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was hoping to gain from learning about these nameless, faceless apprentices and their fates. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so curious. Perhaps it was out of some macabre sense of knowledge-seeking, or something else entirely.

"No – no none of them did. They were all killed."

And for once, maybe in George's life, was there no trace of sarcasm or wittiness to be found in any of the words that came from his mouth that evening. For a moment, the two shared a glance at each other's faces. Laiken could see in George's eyes the understated, yet devastating, feeling that bled through his consciousness and onto his aged face. George shook his head and stood, facing away from Laiken, solemnly smoking his cigarette in silence.

Laiken, knowing he shouldn't press, crawled into his bedding and tried to put some sleep in his body before their trek in the morning.