Note: I do not own anything about Blizzard, and the only profit I'm making from this is in happy feelings of self-confidence. ^.^ I'm really enjoying writing this. Please keep the reviews coming. As I said before, this is my first FF, so I'm hoping for some great constructive criticism. Thanks so much for the reviews so far!
He was only on the other side of the door-flap. She was sure of that. Could feel his presence just there. He was brooding. Why was he brooding? He seemed so distant when she'd asked him for her robes the last time. Well, maybe not distant, but definitely distracted.
She shrugged, shaking out the clothes and inspecting them. Someone had mended them. A highly adept seamster, she thought, noticing how tiny the stitches were. The little mage cringed when she saw the large, jagged line that ran from just under the arm, up over the shoulder, and down the back of her robe. A terrifying testament to the seriousness of the injury she'd sustained. The wound on her shoulder twinged a little and she absently rubbed it, trying to recall what had happened the previous day. She closed her eyes. Immediately, pale green eyes and a growling snarl came into view.
Jinny jumped, gasping quietly. Eyes snapping open, they darted towards the tent flap to make sure it was still closed. It was, ans she breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was the last person she wanted in that tent right now. Especially with the way he'd looked at her when she'd stood from her bedroll.
The mage blushed. She'd seen that look before. Three times to be exact. Once, in the stables at Silvermoon when he'd cornered her. Again, but a more passionate look at the river clearing that separated Eversong from the Ghostlands. And finally a third time at Thalassian Pass after the Alliance had rode through. Though, that third look had been softened with tenderness.
The Alliance.
The thought suddenly occurred to her that he'd never answered her question. Hastily, she put her robes on, wincing when she overextended her shoulder. Jin'ala forced herself to slow down. There really was no sense in rushing, she thought as her mood darkened. The Alliance wasn't going to let them go. Alive, anyway. It was against their religion, or something like that.
But, this whole situation wasn't making sense. If they were to be killed, why had they even bothered to heal her? And why was Darreek so chummy with them? Nothing was adding up.
She called for him as she cinched her belt around her slender waist. He didn't come. Maybe she'd been wrong. She closed her eyes again, stretching invisible fingers out to feel for him. No, he was still there at the front of her tent.
There was someone with him. She shuddered. It was a dark aura. Evil, almost. It felt...black. If you could feel a color. It was empty. Soulless. Cold. Something that takes and takes without giving in return. A black hole devoid of any emotion except greed.
And it was looking at her! Immediately, she pulled back from it, but it followed her back inside the tent. Touching. Feeling her with invisible hands. Leering with eyes that weren't there. Shivers danced up and down her spine. She tried pushing it away, but it was unrelenting. It filled her soul with despair. Sadness so severe, she doubled over, a loud, wretched sob racking her body. She thought she felt it smile sinisterly for only a moment before it was gone.
In that instant, the door flap to the tent was almost torn from its bindings. In a flash, he was at her side, cradling her in his arms. He stroked her hair and rocked her until the tears had stopped. She lifted her head and looked up at him, her eyes puffy and the skin around them red from crying. She still clung to him.
"We have to get out of here!" she whispered in Orcish. But how? New tears started rolling down her cheeks as the realization settled in. "They aren't going to let us, are they?" she sobbed into his broad chest.
He held her away from him, just enough for him to look into her face. His questioning eyes searching hers for answers.
"What are you talking about? Of course they'll let us leave!" he reassured her, pulling her back to his embrace.
It was her turn to push away, green eyes searching his face. She sniffed. "They will?" He nodded. "But...why? Aren't we prisoners?"
He almost laughed, his surprise evident. "Prisoners?"
The mage's brow furrowed. Obviously she was confused. "Aren't we in an Alliance camp?" She gestured around the tent and to the two guards that she only just now noticed had made their way into the small space as well. The thought absently crossed her mind that the two large Draenei warriors made the space that much smaller.
He pulled her back to him, crushing her against his chest. This time, he did laugh. A hearty sound, pregnant with relief that she was starting to come back to herself. "What? No, no, no, little mage." He paused. "Well, yes, most of the races here are sided with the Alliance. But we are not in an Alliance camp. These people are part of the Argent Crusade. The Crusade doesn't take sides."
The tension in her body drained. She relaxed against him, curling up in the lap of her warrior. He twisted a little to look at the guards. He spoke briefly to them and they nodded, turning on their heels to leave.
Gently, he stroked her hair, smiling down at her. "Is that all that was wrong, mage?" he asked, chuckling lightly.
She pushed away, fear returning to and lightening her eyes. "We have to leave," she whispered in Orcish.
The warrior nodded, his eyes closing as he pulled her to him again. "We will. Tomorrow. Once your shoulder is completely mended..."
"No!" she said, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her. "We have to leave now." Her eyes begged him to understand how urgent it was that they leave as soon as possible.
"But, your shoulder..." he protested.
She cut him off. "Will be fine."
"I don't know... I think I'd much rather..."
"Please?" she all but begged him.
He didn't seem to understand, but finally he acquiesced, giving a slight nod in acceptance.
His head had barely moved before she was up, out of his lap, gathering her bags and checking that they still held what she'd put in them. The little mage set her bags by the tent flap, satisfied that they were all in order. She spun on her heels and walked to the back of the tent where the chair was that held the rest of her gear. She was a flurry of motion, fastening her shoulder armor, her bracers, gloves and at last grabbing her staff and wand securing them to her back and side, respectively. Grabbing her helm, she turned back to the warrior. He was sitting there, just watching her.
Neither of them noticed the hand snaking through the bottom of the tent flap and dropping a small orb into her backpack.
The warrior simply stared at her. She flushed a little. "What?" she asked, a little too defensively.
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. Standing, he walked over to her, taking all of two steps to get there. She squeaked out a small yelp when the man grabbed her waist and gathered her up in his arms. A hand went to cradle her cheek briefly before winding itself in her hair, pulling her head to rest on his shoulder. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her hair. The warrior exhaled slowly, hot moist breath dancing on her delicate ear. She shuddered. He felt it. Her body trembled and he wanted more. Gently, he nuzzled her hair, working his way down to her ear. His lips skimmed over her sensitive lobe, and the sharp hiss and the new tremble he'd caused her made his head swim.
Why did he have this effect on her? He was course. Unrefined. So completely unlike the men her parents had intended for her. He was brash. He never seemed to give much thought to actions before they were carried out. He was spontaneous where she had been trained to plan. He was reckless where she erred on the side of caution. He was boisterous, hard and stubborn. She was quiet, soft and appeasing. They were complete opposites.
So, why did he have this effect on her?
Her head clouded as he nuzzled her neck. Her fear had subsided, overshadowed by him being so near. Touching her. Hugging her tightly.
He murmured something.
"Hrmm?"
"I thought I'd..." lost you, he'd almost said. Well, really, he had said it. She just hadn't heard him the first time. He cleared his throat. "I thought I'd have to go tell the magisters some bad news for a moment." He gave her a half smile, hoping he'd covered well enough.
Jinny's brow furrowed. "Was I that bad?"
The warrior nodded, tracing the jagged line of stitches over her shoulder. "That felhound nicked an artery. You almost bled to death."
For a while, neither of them spoke. Simply held one another, comfortable in each others embrace.
Darreek heard it first. The hurried footsteps outside the tent. Reluctantly, he pulled away.
"Stay here, mage. Until I find out what's going on." And without so much as a 'by your leave', he was out the door.
She'd followed to the opening, holding the skin that was used for a door back as she watched people of all shapes, sizes and races bustle by her. Most of them not even looking up from their own preparations to pay much attention to anything else. The few minutes that passed seemed like hours to her, but she knew that was only because she'd no idea what had caused the camp to jump to life. There was movement everywhere she looked. People were sharpening weapons over to her left. On her right, others were sorting ammunition into rations. They were preparing. But for what? There had been a call to arms. But why?
She didn't have to wait long for an explanation. The warrior stood in front of her in full battle armor. "Come," he said, unceremoniously grabbing her bags. "We leave now."
She was curious as to the sudden change in his demeanor, but at that moment she was more interested in leaving that black aura behind her. She wanted as much distance between that dark thing and her as possible. The thought of it alone made her shiver inwardly. Relieved to be finally leaving, she gingerly strapped on her back pack, being careful to not jostle or put too much pressure on her shoulder. She looked at him for a moment before he asked if she was ready. When she nodded, he took her hand and led her out of camp and away from the tower.
She physically relaxed the further away they traveled from the camp. It wasn't just leaving that foreboding presence behind, but being around so many races that normally wanted her dead, simply because of her allegiance to the Horde, had put her on edge. Argent Crusade or not, it had made her nervous. But now, they were walking along the road, only traveling as fast as he dared with her shoulder still not completely healed.
"So, what happened?" she broke the silence. "What had everyone in an upset?"
Darreek glanced her way before answering. "Scourge forces were seen forming ranks north of Light's Hope Chapel. There was intelligence that they were going to bypass the Chapel and head directly for Eastwall Tower. It's good we left when we did. Otherwise, we may have had to hole up in the tower for a bit longer than we'd hoped."
She nodded. "I see." Pausing for a moment, she continued. "How far will we get today?"
He shrugged. "As far as we can before nightfall, I suppose."
The mage looked to the sky, studying the sun. "That gives us two, maybe three more hours before we have to set up camp?"
There was agreement with a quick jerk of his head. They fell into companionable silence as they journeyed toward the edge of the Eastern Plaguelands. Her nervousness only returning as they passed Light's Shield Tower. Again, the Argent Crusade were hastily making preparations in anticipation of the Scourge attack. Word had come that, indeed, they had formed ranks and were advancing on Eastwall. The men and women stationed at Light's Shield were mobilizing, organizing the meager few they could spare for reinforcement of their sister tower.
Jinny and Darreek swiftly moved around the outskirts of the camp, careful to stay out of the way. Jinny, not wanting to get too close to the Alliance, stayed close to her escort, practically attaching herself to his left arm. She clenched so tightly at times, when an Alliance race in particular would walk by, that he was grateful for his plate armor. He would chuckle softly, but never chastise her for her seemingly childish fears. Always, lightly patting the backs of her hands in reassurance. Always, trying to quell the anxiety rising within her.