Chapter 9 – My Son is Dead
Rogar stepped off the boat onto the docks of Theramore. The salty sea air sprayed his face, and the sound of the ocean still rang in his ears. Many times he had traveled the vast sea between the Eastern Kingdom and Kalimdor. This was a trip he had hoped against hope he would never have to make.
"Are you alright?" Ulfgar asked him.
"No, not really." Rogar sighed. "But thanks for coming with me."
"It is my honor." The stout dwarf replied. Never before had Ulfgar met a human with more determination and will. Paladins by nature are a devoted and loyal group, but in all his years of teaching at the Academy, Ulfgar had never seen a man like Rogar. Ulfgar had known Rogar's father, Renvik, and as a personal favor to his friend he mentored the young man as he began his training. Ulfgar and Renvik had fought side by side in the battles of Lordaeron against the Scourge armies. Ulfgar held a deep respect for Renvik, and felt honored that the man would ask him to personally watch over his son.
After Rogar completed his training he ventured on his first crusades into the Plaguelands to fight with the Scourge. Ulfgar went with him. Ulfgar's promise to Renvik to watch over Rogar didn't end with the boy's training. And truth be told, Ulfgar felt like Rogar might have a thing or two to teach this old dwarf. Before it was all said and done the student would become the master.
But in reality the student became a friend. Rogar and Ulfgar fought many battles together for many years. At times their paths took them in separate directions, but always the two would find themselves together again, sharing ale and a story about their latest quests. It was on one such occasion that Ulfgar told Rogar about a guild of adventurers he had met.
"They call themselves the Strike Fighters and they are a quite capable bunch."
"A Guild?" Rogar asked the dwarf. "That doesn't seem like your style. Or mine for that matter."
"I know what you're thinking. And normally I would agree. But these people are different. They are united with a common goal. They truly fight together as brothers and sisters. When one is in need they all come to his aid. I've not seen such dedication outside of the Order. And they are led by a paladin. Her name is Rosefire."
"A paladin, huh? Do you know her? Did you train her?"
"I did not. While I meet many of the new students at the academy, I am not charged with them all. She would have been a student around the same time you were and I was pretty involved in tutoring you, if you recall."
Rogar downed the last of his ale and wiped the foam from his moustache. "Aye, you did have a hell of a time pounding some of those lessons in, didn't you?"
"Thorazon's Hammer couldn't crack that thick skull of yours!" the dwarf chuckled. "But I have asked around the Order a bit and I heard good things about this Rosefire. Excellent with a blade. Strong willed. A few of the instructors questioned her dedication to the Light, but then they had the same reservations about you."
"So what would we have to do to join this guild?"
"I've arranged a meeting with Rosefire and her most trusted officer, a gnome they call Shiner."
"A gnome? You've got to be kidding me? You're in league with gnomes now. By Uther I swear you've gone soft in your old age, dwarf!"
Ulfgar shot an annoyed glance at Rogar, "This gnome is as deadly a foe as I've ever fought. You'd be wise to mind your tongue when you meet her, else you might find a dagger in your back."
Rogar rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. "Ulf, you've never steered me wrong before, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt on this. But sometimes I wonder if you haven't taken one too many blows to the head my old friend!"
"You shall see, Rogar. You shall see!"
And indeed he did see. It wasn't long before Rogar and Ulfgar had become trusted members of the Strike Fighters. Rogar was surprised how comfortable he felt fighting along side this patchwork band of adventurers as they traveled the far reaches of Azeroth. It was a welcome diversion from the constant fighting in the Plaguelands with the Scourge.
And so it came to pass that the human and the dwarf drew even closer. Theirs became a bond of brotherhood, forged in blood shed defending one another. So it was no surprise that as Rogar made this difficult journey to Theramore that Ulfgar should be at his side.
Theramore was the largest Alliance outpost on the continent of Kalimdor. Following the Battle of Mount Hyjal the Alliance commander, Jaina Proudmoore, led her surviving forces south to the tip of Dustwallow Marsh and they built Theramore. Jaina formed an alliance with the Orc Chieftain, Thrall, to their mutual benefit in order to defeat the Burning Legion at Hyjal. Their alliance remained in place following the battle. That was until Jaina's father, Admiral Daelin Proudmoore, sailed his fleet into the port of Theramore. Daelin had managed to escape the wrath of the corrupted prince, Arthas, in Lordaeron and had spent many months at sea searching for a refuge. When he discovered the outpost his daughter founded he took control of it and immediately began making plans to attack the Orcs to the north. Daelin's hatred of the Orcs ran deep, and he could not abide by the alliance his daughter had formed with Thrall. Jaina could not side with her father, and once again joined Thrall in battle – this time against her own father. The Admiral was killed in the battle and the Orcs were victorious. Grateful for her help, Thrall allowed Jaina and her people to return to Theramore.
Rogar's business in Theramore was personal. As an outpost for the Alliance army, the barracks of Theramore became a place where the best surgeons and doctors of the Alliance naturally congregated. The wounds which could not be healed by priests and paladins were tended to by the medics of Theramore. They offered the best non-magical healing known to Azeroth. And it was here that Rogar's step-mother, Kaerai, lay dying.
The two paladins strode up the stone pathway leading from the docks to the barracks. The sound of steel clashing on steel and the grunting of warriors sparring filled the courtyard. The sentries at the gate of the barracks stood aside and saluted at the sight of the paladins. Rogar and Ulfgar made their way to the infirmary at the back of the barracks. A tall man with a bushy brown moustache approached Rogar.
"It's good to see you again, Rogar. Your mother has not been well, and I was afraid she might pass before you got another chance to see her. We're keeping her back here, away from the wounded, where she might be more comfortable."
"Thank you, doctor." Rogar shook the man's hand as he followed him back to the small room where Kaerai was sleeping. A wave of sadness washed over Rogar as he saw the woman lying in this simple bed surrounded by cold, stone walls and a straw covered floor. The doctors had indeed done their best to make the woman comfortable but this was no way for a civilian to spend their last days. This was a triage unit for wounded and dying soldiers. Rogar cursed himself for not having a quiet home on a rolling farm where his step-mother could peacefully live out her life.
He approached the side of her bed and took her hand in his. Her skin was cold to the touch and he felt as if he might crush her fragile bones if he wasn't careful. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and small tear rolled down his cheek. He whispered the words to a prayer and her body was immersed for just a moment in a faint, yellow glow.
"You know it doesn't work like that." Ulfgar said. "The Light can heal many wounds my friend, but it cannot reverse the sands of time."
"I know." Rogar choked back on his words.
Kaerai stirred in her bed, opened her eyes, and turned to see who was there. Her face instantly lit up at the sight of her visitors. "Rogar." She struggled to speak, her voice almost a whisper. "It's so good to see you. And Ulfgar, still the same after all these years."
"Kaerai. Always a pleaure." The Dwarf removed his helm and bowed deeply at the foot of the woman's bed.
"How are you Mom?" Rogar asked. "Are you in pain? Is there anything I can get you?"
"Bah, don't you worry. The doctors here are very good to me. They see to my needs. You sit and visit with me a moment. You look well. It warms an old woman's heart to know that her son has grown to be an honorable man. Your father would be very proud of you, Rogar."
Of course Kaerai had no idea that her real son, Buckalter, was practicing the dark art of a warlock. Despite the lies, Rogar couldn't bring himself to tell her that Buckalter had followed in the footsteps of his father. After the murder of Rogar's father, Kaerai had begged Rogar to search for his brother. Of course Rogar did eventually find Buckalter – studying to be a warlock under the guidance of his father. Rogar wasted no time exacting revenge for his own father's death. But he returned to Kaerai and told her he had no luck in finding any sign of Buckalter.
As Kaerai had gotten on in years her health degraded to the point that she could no longer care for herself. Rogar arranged for the doctors in Theramore to care for her. Every visit left him with more and more guilt. He told himself he should quit the Strike Fighters, quit adventuring and questing, and get a farm somewhere. He would take his mother home and care for her like she had cared for him when he was a young boy alone in an orphanage. But there was always one more quest or one more adventure to complete and then he would quit. How many times had he lied to himself about that? And now it was too late. This poor woman was too fragile to move from her bed, let alone journey by boat to a quiet farmhouse somewhere in the woods of Elwynn Forest. No, the next time she left this dark, musty room would be when she died.
Rogar sat beside Kaerai's bed and watched the dying woman sleep. He watched her chest heave up and down with each labored breath. He cursed himself for allowing this good woman to die in a cold stone room. He wiped tears from his eyes and tried to picture in his mind's eye the better days they had spent together as a family. All the while his dwarven companion stood stoically in the corner of the room, allowing his friend the time he needed to make his peace. They both realized that barring a miracle this would be the last time they would see Kaerai alive.
As Kaerai drifted in and out of sleep Rogar whispered "I'm sorry". He rose to his feet and turned to the door. Ulfgar followed behind. The two of them left the barracks and made their way back to the docks of Theramore without saying a word.
* * * * *
Kaerai layed in bed and starred at the ceiling. She wondered what would happen if she just stopped thinking about her breathing. For so long now it was a chore just to inhale and exhale – it was the only activity of her existance. She closed her eyes and pictured the fields in front of her farmhouse in Elwynn Forest. She saw her husband carrying firewood from the barn to the house, her boys following behind him laughing and pushing one another. The leaves of the trees were on fire with the colors of autumn – red, orange, yellow and brown. The air was crisp, not yet the bitter cold of winter but past the heat of the summer. It was the picture Kaerai wanted to carry to her grave.
The image was shattered by a voice in her room. "Hello, Mother."
Kaerai's eyes shot open instantly. She used the last of her strength to turn her head to the door. The air in her lungs escaped in a gasp. Standing in her doorway was a tall, thin man dressed in deep purple robes. He wore a hood over his head that shadowed his face, but Kaerai could still see his eyes as they glowed a demonic red in the darkness of the room.
"No… no… no…" the frail woman repeated over and over as tears began streaming down her cheeks. Her head bobbed back and forth in denial of the sight before her.
"It is true, Mother. I am alive. And I am well." He reached for her hand, but she recoiled from his touch with amazing speed. "What do you fear, Mother? Are you not happy to see me?"
"I do not know who this man before me is." Kaerai's voice was barely a whisper.
"Of course you do. It's me, Buckalter. Your son."
"My son is dead." The old woman gasped and closed her eyes. She exhaled a long deep breath, and then she was still.