Puffgirl1952 the 2nd: the name Karandra doesn't actually mean anything, at least I don't think so, I just came up with it. Thank you again for reviewing every time, sorry I'm not really responding this time but I'm in a hurry. See you at the next chapter!
Enjoy!
Chapter 6: It is a trap!
The following morning, Karandra woke up very early. A soldier came in minutes later with bread and water. She thanked him, and followed him to Garona's room, eating on the way.
Garona helped her put on her blue and golden armour, and secured her belt with the dagger. The soldier was waiting at the door, and then led them to the throne room. They met with King Llane there, and went outside. Lothar and the escort were waiting for them. This time Karandra had one horse for herself. Lothar handed her a boom stick.
"Can you shoot?" he asked her.
"I never used this thing before," she answered.
"It's simple. You aim, and you pull the trigger. You can do it if it turns bad?"
"Yes".
"Good".
They rode quickly to the location of the meeting, silent all the way. When they arrived, she was about to dismount to stand beside Llane, Lothar and Garona but Lothar gave her a look. She nodded shortly and stayed on her horse, one hand on the boom stick.
She carefully watched the exchange between Durotan and Llane, with Garona as translator, Lothar sometimes adding questions. Something was odd. Something was feeling out of place. She couldn't quite guess what it was. She exchanged a nervous look with Lothar.
She saw the green Orc a second before anyone else. She quickly pulled the weapon Lothar gave her and aimed. She shot just when the Orc attacked one of the Frost-wolf Orc, killing him instantly when the bullet entered his head.
"It's a trap!" Lothar shouted.
The three quickly ran back and jumped on their horses. Green Orcs were arriving from behind the Frost-wolves. The humans – and Garona and Karandra – started to retreat as the Frost-wolves were trying to resist against the attackers.
Orcs started appearing on the retreat path. Karandra did her best at shooting them, trying to keep them away. A whole pack of them arrived right at them from another way.
"Cover the flank!" someone shouted.
They were getting surrounded, and outnumbered. Lothar was analysing the situation with wide eyes, doing his best to keep his calm in all that panic. An Orc came at him and impaled his horse on a shield. He jumped over him and quickly killed him. Karandra was shooting, her horse was staying still. Lothar saw the Orc charging toward her, and started running like a madman.
"Karandra!" he shouted, trying somehow to warn her.
She turned her head, she could have sworn Lothar called her. She didn't find him in the battlefield. And the next thing she knew, she was flying and landing harshly on the ground. She saw her horse dead on the ground and groaned. She was trying to get up when she saw another Orc running toward her, axe raised. He never reached her however, because he was tackled down by a very angry and very protective Lothar, and pinned to the ground by the sword in his heart.
She quickly stood up and joined him.
"Thank you," she said.
"Anytime. But you have to get out of here, now!" he urged her.
"I'm not leaving you!" she replied, not missing a beat.
"Watch out!"
Three Orcs were coming their way. She picked up a spear on the ground and charged with Lothar. He killed one quickly and dodged an attack from another, while Karandra violently plunged the spear in the third one's chest, then grabbed her dagger and swiftly cut his throat.
"Stay together!" a human shouted.
Karandra was now flanking Garona, and they were doing quite a good job on their own. Khadgar was trying to protect them, setting some Orcs on fire. Lothar was protecting Llane. But many human soldiers were already dead on the ground. Too many.
Lightning was accumulating above them, and soon, barriers of lightning was surrounding the humans, making it impossible for the Orcs to approach them.
"Retreat to the plateau!" the King ordered.
Lothar looked to the sky with a smile. But when his eyes set back on the battlefield again, his smile disappeared like smoke in the wind. Callan was on the other side, surrounded by Orcs, with only a few of his comrades.
"Medhiv, take it down!" he yelled as he ran to his son.
The lightning barrier threw him on the ground. Karandra was about to climb on Garona's horse to retreat with the others when she saw him. She dropped Garona's hand and ran to Lothar, helping him up when she reached him. She looked to the other side and her heart tightened.
"Medhiv!" he yelled again.
She knew it was useless, but she didn't say it out loud. Lothar knew it too, he just couldn't give up. He forced his hand through the magical barrier and firmly grabbed his son's shoulder, making him turn so they faced each other.
"Hold on, son," he said.
"Dad!" Callan said as Lothar was forced to pull back his hand. "For Azeroth," he added, looking at him straight in the eyes.
"Medhiv!" Lothar tried once again.
He took a shield on the ground and tried to force his way to the other side, only to be thrown back again. As the soldiers rushed to help up their Commander, Karandra picked up her boom stick, aimed at an Orc on the other side, and pulled the trigger, but the bullet went back to their side, and she crouched to the ground to avoid being hit. She slowly approached the barrier, and saw that Callan was the last one standing, and didn't have any weapon left.
Blackhand was holding the young human by his neck.
"Callan," Lothar softly called him.
All Orcs, and Callan, turned to him. Lothar kept his blue eyes focused on his son, and nodded, unable to find the words he desperately wanted to tell him. Callan seemed relieved, then Blackhand impaled him on his metal claws, which replaced the hand Lothar had taken from him. Then he threw Callan's body toward them, but it crashed on the barrier and then on the ground, on the other side. They couldn't even bring back a corpse.
Lothar set his eyes on Blackhand, who was smirking evilly. The two war chiefs affronted each other's glare for long seconds. Lothar then quickly turned on his heels and walked back to the horses, followed by the few remaining soldiers. He motioned for Karandra to jump behind him, and they silently made their way to the plateau.
Once they found the rest of the troop, the King told them that Khadgar and Garona were bringing Medhiv back to Karazhan by griffin. He ordered them to go back to Stormwind immediately. He would go back by griffin, while the rest of the troops would be behind them.
Lothar only nodded and started galloping, Karandra holding onto him.
They were back before sunset. Lothar led her to her room and left her there. She didn't try to follow him, for she knew he needed some time alone. She took out her armour and quickly washed her skin with a cold wet clothe. She then put back leather pants and a sleeveless leather shirt, laced on the front. She draped a royal blue cape around her shoulders and went to sit at the window, silently watching the city. Her door suddenly slammed opened and Garona came in.
"I have something to tell you," she announced in Orc language.
Karandra stood up and approached.
"What is it?"
"I know who our father is," she bluntly said.
"Our father?" Karandra repeated, shocked.
Garona nodded.
"Tell me," Karandra managed to say as her throat tightened.
"Medhiv, the Guardian. He travelled, years ago, and met our people. He found his mate. And he left her."
"No, it can't be! That doesn't prove anything."
"Do you know your mother's name?"
Karandra shook her head.
"Me neither. But remember our stories. My mother was burned alive because she gave birth to me. No one ever said she was burned just after I was born. She was burned after her other child was born, when Medhiv abandoned her and the Orcs found out about the babies. About you and me."
"But you're older, you should remember all of this," Karandra protested.
"Not if Gul'dan took my memories away with his magic," Garona replied.
"Turning your skin green in the process," Karandra completed. "It makes sense. It would explain why you have the tusks of our mother, you're the eldest. And I have… Medhiv's necklace, probably. It all makes sense!"
Garona nodded. They exchanged a long look.
"But we must not say a word about this. Medhiv, I mean our father, he just let Lothar's son die in front of him. Lothar would hate me if he knew I'm Medhiv's daughter."
"You care about this human, don't you?"
"Yes," Karandra admitted sheepishly.
"He's a good warrior. He protects his people well. He would be a good mate. But go find him before we all die."
Karandra nodded and ran out of the room but came back and warily approached her sister and embraced her awkwardly. Garona returned the gesture with as much awkwardness. Karandra then ran out again.
She asked a soldier the way to Lothar's room, but when she entered, he wasn't there. She ran out again, and asked another soldier where Lothar was. He didn't know. She came across at least eight people who didn't know where the Commander was.
Finally, a soldier told her he saw Lothar at the tavern an hour ago. She asked the way, he told her quickly and went away. She didn't mind the soldier's poor behaviour toward her and just ran out of the palace. Outside, she pulled her hood on, not wanting to scare anyone in the city. Her cloaked form was walking fast in the streets, head low, toward the tavern the soldier talked about.
In front of the little building she stopped, hesitating. She was the one, with Garona, that insisted for the meeting to happen. She was, somehow, responsible for his son's death. He had lost his only child because of her. She remembered what Lothar said to his son in the infirmary. "You're all I have". That meant she took the last thing he had from him. She felt terribly guilty. She was horrible, she was a monster. But she would not run away. She had to at least face him, tell him that she was truly, deeply, sorry. She deserved his hate, and if he wanted to kill her for what she had done, then so be it. But she had to apologize to him, face to face.
So, she entered the tavern and closed the door behind her. It was very late in the night, so there wasn't anybody at the tables. In fact, there wasn't anybody at all, except for the person on the bar counter. Lothar.
He was lying on his back on the wooden surface, arms spread on his side, hanging. A pint was in his left hand. He was staring at the ceiling. She could tell he had cried, his eyes were still a bit red and swollen. And he had drunk. A lot.
She removed her hood and stopped a few steps away from him.
"I am sorry," she said in a weak, throat-tightened voice.