Southshore had become a bustling hub of a village, seething with soldiers and refugees. It was the main way station between the rotting lands to the north, and the succor of the southern realms. Dwindling numbers of fleeing Lordaeron citizens arrived every day, desperate to book passage on one of the infrequent vessels ferrying people south.
Hilde leaned around Christof's shoulder, her attention caught by the wide array of people milling about. Soldiers wearing the bright yellow lion of Stormwind flashed in the crowd, shoulder to shoulder with heavily armored dwarves from Ironforge. Occasionally, the colors of Lordaeron would surface, almost exclusively on the hardest-looking fighters. Refugees bobbed through the tide, some softly begging, others simply clinging together and attempting to stare in all directions at once.
"How long will we be here, Cap?" Simon asked from behind. He was second in command of the small troupe, a paladin dedicated to the healing arts.
"Long enough to resupply and check for new orders," Christof answered, flicking his charger's reins to guide him around yet another knot of people. He chuckled softly at the groans from behind him. "Maybe a day, two at the most. No time for wenching and burning through that hard earned coin. Perhaps you all should go to the church and pray instead?"
Hilde leaned her head against the hard armor of Christof's back. Since her rescue, she'd been on patrol with this group for the last six months. It had been six brutal months of searching obliterated villages, slaying the infected, and rescuing those few who had managed to survive. No place in the north was untouched by the Scourge. Through the efforts of the patrols, it had been checked at the Alterac Mountains, but stemming the rot took constant vigilance.
Her eyes drifted, coming into contact with a pair of cold blue eyes. Thorivald Irongrip, the dwarven paladin of the troupe, was glaring at her as usual. It had been Thorivald who'd called for her death next to the river. Most days his hatred was a palpable blanket that threatened to choke her. She'd often awoken late at night to hear him arguing with Christof over having her with them. The other soldiers tried to distract her with jokes and riddles to drown out the muttered slurs, but she had no illusions. Without Christof's protection, she knew Thorivald would have killed her when they'd found her.
They stopped outside the teeming stables, where the stablehands assured them their mounts would be well-cared for. With a flick of his hand, Christof dismissed his soldiers. The men hooted and dispersed, all except Thorivald. He took a step closer before Simon, spotting the issue, grabbed the dwarf's arm and dragged him off towards a ramshackle tavern near the outskirts of the village.
"What do you think of Southshore, Hilde?" Christof asked with a smile. She fell into step beside him, smiling up at him.
"Terribly noisy and dusty." Hilde coughed in emphasis. Christof laughed.
"Only because it's become the de facto base for the Alliance in the area. Eventually this mob will dry up. All these villagers know it, and are soaking every traveler for as much money as they can." He pointed out to the empty wharf. "We've seen it already. There aren't many more survivors from the north. The ships will stop, and it'll become a backwater again. Although, if they are lucky, they'll get a gryphon master stationed here."
"I would like to ride on one one day," Hilde said wistfully. She'd heard all the stories from the other soldiers about riding the great beasts back and forth to every destination in the south. Christof nodded and took her hand, leading her into the shadowed interior of the inn.
"You will before too much longer I'm sure. And now, to business."
The inn was only semi-full. Its worn furnishings and ratty banners spoke to the masses of humanity flowing through the area. Christof led Hilde straight to the older man behind the bar, giving him a slight bow of greeting.
"My daughter and I require lodging for the evening. My daughter requires some new clothes. I would also like a bath, and I need to see your scribe." Christof slid a gold coin across the counter. The innkeeper picked it up, examining each side, before tucking it into his pouch.
"Certainly, my lord. We strive to serve the forces of the Alliance. You are in great luck! We have a small upstairs room available. I will send my girl upstairs with the things for your…daughter." The innkeeper leered slighty, reaching out to chuck Hilde under the chin with his greasy fingers. "She's a pretty one with those eyes. And that hair. You must be very brave, my little lovely, accompanying your…father."
Christof gripped the innkeeper's wrist in his plated grip, stopping his fingers inches from her face. He squeezed hard.
"I do not approve of your insinuations."
The innkeeper grimaced, pulling and twisting in a vain attempt to free his arm. "Sorry, m'lord. A bit of a joke, yes?" He turned and bellowed over his shoulder. "Nina! Get your lazy end up stairs to Four. Draw a bath, get some clothes! Now! Now!" He drew a key from the bunch at his waist. "Here you are m'lord. Room Four. The scribe is in the main dining hall. Just look for the man with all the ink spots."
Christof snorted and dropped the man's hand. He handed the key to Hilde.
"I have some business to attend to. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. When the girl comes with the clothes, pick whatever you like." He slid several pieces of silver into her hand. He smiled and tousled her hair. "I'll be up in a while to get you some dinner."
Hilde smiled, clutching the key and the money tightly. She ventured up the stairs, through the dark hallways to the door marked with a crudely drawn 4. The room inside was clean, but somewhat shabby. A small cot had been set up near the window. A round tub took up the far end of the room, already brimming with steaming water. A table nearby held a mended but neatly laundered robe, and an assortment of soaps and brushes.
Hilde slipped out of her tattered clothes and sank into the water. It was heaven after months off brisk splashing off in ice-cold streams. She scrubbed and soaped over and over, only emerging when she began to prune. She wrapped the robe around herself, and set to brushing her long white hair free of knots.
The innkeeper's girl Nina appeared a short while later with an armful of clothing. She stood silently with eyes averted while Hilde picked through the pile, mumbling prices for each garment. Hilde finally settled on two dark dresses; one green, one blue, with trousers, new underclothes and shoes, and a thick fur-lined leather traveling cloak. She paid the girl, dismissed her, and dressed in her new clothes.
Night was falling outside when a knock sounded at the door. Hilde glanced up from her dog-eared spellbook, dropping the tome on the window sill before opening the door.
It was Thorivald. His long red mustache and beard seemed to bristle at her presence. His bloodshot eyes flicked past her. Hilde almost gagged at the stench of alcohol swimming off him in waves.
"Is Captain Christof here?" He growled. Hilde took a step back, a bolt of warning shooting through her stomach. She gripped the edge of the door and went to slam it shut.
Thorivald kicked the door open and out of her hand. Hilde bolted backwards, behind the tub. The dwarf took a step inside, a cold smile crossing his lips as he swung the door shut.
"Well well, all alone, little demon. I've dreamed about this."
"Get out of here," Hilde snapped. "Christof will be back any moment."
Thorivald laughed, tossing his head backwards. "That is CAPTAIN Holemhein to you, witch! You've managed to hiss your poison into that good man long enough. I'm the only one that sees you for what you are. Monster! Foul and disgusting creature masquerading as a child!" He took another step closer. Hilde bared her teeth, her fingers digging into the wall of the tub. She could just see the glitter of her knife across the room, underneath her old clothes, tantalizing far away.
"You're drunk," Hilde snapped. "Get out of here now, and I won't tell Christof about this."
The dwarf ran a hand down his front. "That's just some cologne, dearie. When they find you, I'll sob and say I was drunk, didn't know what I was doing. I won't even get a reprimand. Not for killing a light-blasted monster. I will at least make it quick, provided you don't struggle. But I hope you struggle, little witch."
Thorivald lunged at her. Hilde dodged to the left, but her feet tangled in the toiletry table, pitching her face-down onto the floor. She felt the immensely strong hands of the dwarf close around her neck and drag her up. The room spun, and she was shoved down into the cold water of the bathing tub. She kicked hard, only to feel the hands shove her deeper into the water.
Hilde thrashed in the water. Something primal exploded in her chest, lending her strength. She felt something bump against her chin, and without hesitation bit down as hard as she could. A furious oath filtered through the water, and the hands vanished from her neck. She twisted her body back, falling off the edge of the tub, sucking in air gratefully.
Thorivald stood several paces away, clutching his bleeding hand. He was muttering curses and shaking the injured limb. Hilde's breath hissed out, her eyes narrowing.
"Agony," she whispered. Thorivald looked up at her, his eyes widening in shock before his body began shaking in pain. Coughing, Hilde pulled herself up, flinging out one hand and weaving another spell.
"Corruption!" she called. Thorivald howled, dropping to one knee. Hilde spread out her fingers, concentrating hard, visualizing the dwarf consumed in flames. Fire began to lick around the outside of his boots, leaping up eagerly.
Abruptly a hard force struck her head, sending her crashing back to the floor. Thorivald stood unsteadily, the spasms and fire fading.
"Didn't expect the light's hammer, did you witch?" he growled. A steely rasp, and a long dirk glittered in his fist. "It'll have to be the messy way now. Can't let you utter any more of those demon spells. Perhaps chop out your tongue first…but no. Someone will have heard the commotion. Best it be quick."
Thorivald grabbed Hilde's face, his hand covering her mouth and hoisting her into the air. She twisted through the haze, conscious of the shining steel flashing towards her chest. Pain ripped through her knee as she made contact with his arm, forcing the dagger up. Agony bloomed along her upper body as the knife tore into her right shoulder. Blood began to pour as Thorivald cursed, changing his grip and driving the dagger towards her heart.
A warm golden glow surrounded Hilde, and the dagger sparked and shattered. Thorivald's eyes jerked back to the doorway. He dropped Hilde to the floor and turned, a strangely victorious smile on his face.
"Captain, so glad you are here. This witch invited me up here, used black arts on me. I was worried about you…"
"Get out, Thorivald, before I send you to the Light myself," Christof snapped. Thorivald spread his hands wide, the smile staying rigidly in place.
"It was only because I serve the Light, that I must destroy evil. This thing is evil! It is the worm that seeks to kill us all!"
Christof reached out, grabbing Thorivald's tunic. He dragged the dwarf close.
"What you have done is attempt to kill a child, who has done nothing but try to defend herself. You should go and pray for the Light to show you the error of yours ways. But so help me, if you do not remove yourself from my sight, I will kill you."
Thorivald pulled free, an insane chuckle shaking his chest. He turned, bowing slightly at the crumpled Hilde, before walking out the door. Christof slammed the door, and quickly knelt at the girl's side. He placed his fingers against the bleeding wound, lips moving silently in a healing spell. The skin re-knit slowly. Christof picked up a towel, dipping it in the water and handing it to Hilde. She began to sponge off the blood, abruptly bursting into tears.
Christof stood up, placing his hand on her head before seating himself on the bed. "I'm sorry, Hilde. Thorivald is a good soldier, but in his way, as much of a fanatic as any we've seen. There are too many fanatics in the world, both good and bad. I would not have left you alone if I thought he would have tried this."
Hilde hiccupped, rubbing the rough towel across her eyes. "I…I'm all right. He surprised me is all."
Christof sighed. "I've been very foolish. A girl of your age should be training for life, not gallivanting around with a bunch of soldiers. I couldn't help it though. You remind me of my own children, and by the Light, it's been like having them with me these last few months. But I should have sent you away where you would have been safe."
Hilde's eyes widened. "No…he just surprised me. I can handle him, I can!"
Christof smiled sadly. "You are an eleven year old girl. Precocious though you are, you are still eleven. There are so many years ahead of you to adventure. Right now you need to learn, so that one twisted person can't surprise you." He pulled Hilde close, hugging her tightly. "I'm sorry, little one, but you know what I say is true."
At her emphatic squeak, he sighed and released her. "And, there is something else." He pulled out a well-folded piece of paper. "New orders. Prince Arthas of Lordaeron is asking for all able-bodied soldiers of the Alliance to join him in sailing to Northrend to deal with the heart of the Scourge threat. We are leaving in the morning to join his convoy north." He gently poked Hilde's forehead. "And you can't come."
"So you're going to leave me in this dirty little town to rot?" Hilde gulped, balling up her fists. Christof shook his head, still smiling sadly as he pulled out two sealed letters.
"This," he indicated the top letter, "is a message to Vivian Shadowblade, a warlock I knew in my youth. She lives in Stormwind, and helps train children like you. This is an introduction, and I am sure she will make you welcome. She owes me a few." He smiled down at her, ruffling her hair. "I made the introduction in the name of Hilde du Holemhein."
He picked up the second letter. Unlike the fresh parchment of the first, it was worn and creased. "This is a writ of safe passage, signed by the Archbishop of Stormwind. No one will dare place a hand on you if you show them this. It will help you get there safely. I've already booked passage for you on the next ship into port. It should be here in two weeks."
Hilde stared up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffled and hugged the paladin tightly.
Christof put his arms around her. "Life is not kind, Hilde. We have to take things as they come. The Light teaches us to be good, and find happiness where we can. It makes us strong, strong enough to outlast anything that happens." He took Hilde's chin in his fingers. "Pain is temporary. Don't let it mark you. You'll be amazing once you grow up."
