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Departed
Book Six, Part Two
The ripping of flesh was the immediate sound that met my ears as our rogues hit the first wave. Howls of pain and anger were drowned out by the clash of metals.
To my right, a blast of light destroyed one of the oozes, and I barely dodged the missiles of green slime that was the result. I cursed as some of the liquid landed on my shoulder armor, hissing at the contact as it disintegrated the leather.
"Casters destroy the oozes!" screamed Zen, who apparently realized what I had: these things were plague bombs waiting to explode.
Taellor was fighting to my left, Robert and Cole were to my right, and as I destroyed one of the skeletons with a good swipe I called for the two latter rogues. "Step away from the oozes," I warned. "They're plagued-"
One of our warriors screamed in pain, holding his face as his knees buckled below him and left the man in a puddle of green. A hissing sound caused me to turn away and face a new adversary.
Most of the oozes had been properly isolated from the towers, their messes forming a pool of Undeath that I hoped no one would step into, and we were handling the waves of soldiers rolling towards us. Consecrations lit up the ground, playing tricks with my eyes so adjusted to darkness, and ice bolts and arrows were flying by my face with hisses of vengeance.
Our numbers were decreasing, but so were theirs. We had a chance. I chanted it over and over. A chance. That's all we needed.
In the middle of the fight, some rogues and warriors began to advance, attempting to cut through the ranks. I growled. Zen's first warning: no fighting on the streets.
"Hold fast!" I screamed, minding a sword that nearly gave me a premature hair cut. "Hold back!"
Before I could stride to the stragglers myself and pull them closer to the tower, a heavy axe soared past my head, missing me as well as the Undead before me and landing at the feet of Taellor. I gaped, confused. That was not an axe of the Alliance, and it wasn't the weapon of choice of the Undead.
I cursed, turning toward our sharp left, and the image didn't startle me. Horde- and not only from the left, but the right as well, their numbers reaching around our back. The Tauren who had probably tossed the axe stood tall, his braided hair tussling in the soft wind. He had his own small army, of at least a few dozen, of Forsaken, Blood Elves, Trolls, Orcs—all races were represented.
Taellor and I weren't the only Alliance the new enemy grabbed the attention of. Everyone planted in the back—druids, paladins, our heavy damage—was now turned, startled and torn between two evils.
"Horde!" one of our own Dwarves shouted, suddenly enraged enough to charge our old enemy with his axe at the ready.
"No, wait!" I screamed, in two strides catching the warrior by the scruff and dragging him back a few steps. "Zen!" I called.
I got no reply—or at least, I heard none. A few Troll and Tauren hunters had bows ready, a Shaman was throwing down a few totems that I really didn't want to know the names of. Taellor was now fighting off a few Undead, keeping them off him as well as me as I looked around in a slight panic.
"Hold your attacks on the Horde!" I screamed. "Target the Scourge. Melee focus aim on the Scourge! I want the casters at the ready on the Horde."
The casters threw me unsure glances, but turned anyway. To my surprise, warriors and paladins were listening. Their focus remained ahead, flashes of light continuing to burn away the Scourge.
They weren't attacking yet. Perhaps they weren't here to fight us. I stood there for a moment, minding that the Undead were at my back and that the Horde was standing readily before me. The Tauren roared, his voice soaring over the rest of the battle, and his followers were charging, casters muttering enchanting spells.
"Stop!" I screamed, daggers sheathed and hands held out. It was useless—even if they did know my language, even if they were listening, we were enemies, and they were on a mission. "This isn't our fight!" One of their Forsaken rogues went straight for me, daggers swirling in the air. I barely had time to dodge his first few attempts, my feet back-peddling to try to pull away from combat.
What the Horde didn't fully expect was the attacks they gained from the Undead. The Scourge was sworn to kill anything living, and now they had more open targets. A Blood Elf paladin near me plotted a consecration; its light beneath me felt like it'd burn holes through my boots. I screamed, still determined to deter their advances.
"Grace, behind you!"
I turned, seeing Taellor in the background but more importantly spotting the pair of Scourge who now charged. They grew furious as they hit the consecration, howling as they focused on the paladin responsible for the move. As the skeletons stumbled past me, they reached their claws and weapons toward the Blood Elf.
One of my daggers caught one in the spine, even as the injured fiend shrieked and flipped to face me. His own dagger, hidden before while it streamed toward the paladin, now flew at me. My left arm rose intuitively to shield my face, and despite the leather guards I felt the knife cut down my arm.
My left dagger fell to the ground, landing in the swirl of Light still consecrating the dirt. The Blood Elf paused, slightly taken aback, as I cradled my bleeding arm. The Forsaken rogue slashed at the remaining Scourge, his own bones grinding with the movement. "They're your enemies, too," I growled.
"Es'a dwor wogess," hissed someone from behind me, their tongue beautiful but entirely foreign. Taellor stepped beside me, the Light fading beneath him as he helped me up. "Zsat grebis soh arrtdi, ga grebis soh ebeiri."
The two hesitated, then in the same hissing language called to their leader. The entire army of Horde seemed to pause, awaiting the reaction of their Tauren leader. Finally, his roar was once again ringing across the zone: "Rala. Uden soh Ullsethe!"
Nodding, the two Horde before me, who momentarily had a death sentence in mind for me, bowed stiffly and, brandishing their weapons, stalked past us to take on a new wave of Undead. Other members of the Horde were following the lead.
I didn't realize until then that my lungs hadn't moved, and now that I sucked in a heavy breath I felt light-headed. My own blood now painted both my left arm and right hand, brown in the darkness.
"You okay?" Taellor was again asking. I nodded.
"I'll manage. What did you say to them?"
"I told them the obvious. That they could either have double the friends or double the enemies. It was their choice."
"You saved my life."
Taellor chuckled as he readied his daggers once more. "Rogue's stick together, right?"
The remaining time of the fight, I was relentless. We had a clear advantage now, but that didn't deter my strength. I fought harder. Took three or four armed Undead at once, toying with them, spilling their blood. Once I beheaded a ghoul, watched as its body remained upright and attempted to walk, and then took pleasure in ripping every appendage off its body until all that remained was the blow to the heart. They had no feelings, but they surely felt pain. They would suffer in physical pain what I suffered because of Dennis' death. My father's death. My family had been torn apart, so now their bodies would have to do for revenge.
Once they knew it was hopeless, they tried to retreat, even as we kept attacking. One of the skeletons fleeing I managed to knock in what used to be its kidneys—it had the same effect. Its body keeled over, allowing me to dig my dagger through its tough ribcage and into its beating but Undead heart.
A few got away, their bodies running as fast as possible to escape the onslaught of arrows and ranged attacks. It left us breathless, tired, unwilling to call it the end in fear that it wasn't.
Once the Scourge became dots on the horizon, many broke into cheers—Horde and Alliance alike. I heard the roar of the Tauren leader once again, but I was no longer fearing the safety of my own Alliance.
They took their leave quietly. Both the Alliance and Horde were exhausted, too tired to pick any more fights, and I found myself hoping it was the start of something permanent. The Blood Elf paladin from earlier, before leaving, gently touched my arm. It sealed shut automatically, the Light acting as a sort of temporary bandage. I bowed my gratefulness. He smirked as he walked away.
There was work yet to be done. After I was bandaged, it was time for the mending of the surviving, the burial of the dead, and the purifying of the Undead. I helped Zen, who survived with little but a scratch, with the bites, unwilling to bury our deceased. The process went on well into dawn, and it was passed noon by the time we reached the chapel.
The other towers had fights similar to our own, without the help of any Horde, of course. Once we mentioned to this to Nicholas Zuerenhoff of the Argent Dawn, he seemed curious. "Helped, you say? As in, they didn't kill our soldiers?"
I nodded. "Thanks to Taellor here," I nudged the Night Elf who shrugged.
"My father taught me both common languages for a reason, I suppose."
"Are you sure your ranks don't want to stay a few days?" Zuerenhoff asked, motioning to the chapel. "We should be celebrating! Feasting!"
"We are content with knowing the Scourge didn't exterminate our people up here," Zen answered indirectly. "We cleaned in the lake on our way, and most of us have eaten the rations we brought. The sooner we return to Stormwind to report our victory, the better."
Zuerenhoff sighed, finally nodding in agreement. "I owe you so much," he muttered. "I simply hope another attack isn't looming on the horizon."
"If it is, we'll know," I assured, bowing.
"We thank you for your hospitality while we stayed," Zen mentioned, bowing himself. "And for your trust when we came to you with a silly claim."
"You're welcome here any time."
"Goodbye, Taellor," I said, holding my hand out to shake his own. His tall figure took me into a hug, my chin hitting his chest as his arms nearly smothered me.
"Don't be a stranger, Grace." I laughed, pulling away and nodding.
It definitely took longer to get home, our weary bodies going at a steady, unhurried pace. Everyone dear to me survived this fight: Zen, Brae, even Cole and Rob. But how long would that streak last?
There was only way to lessen the likelihood of losing others I kept close to me. To kill the Scourge before they could kill us. And that wouldn't be a problem for me.
"I'm going to the King," Zen announced as we reached the gates of Stormwind. I nodded. "You're coming?" he asked, and it took a moment to realize he was talking to me.
"Why?"
"He's going to want to thank you."
"I have no desire to see him. I'm tired."
Zen glared, obviously trying to pinpoint where the new rush of anger was coming from now, but dropped it for now.
I went straight to Zen's place. I ignored the taverns as they roared in celebration and the streets as they screamed with fireworks once more. Instead, I re-bandaged my wound, unconcerned because of the Blood Elf's small favor, and changed out of my bloodied armor.
When Zen arrived quite a bit later, I was already in my nightgown upstairs (I was surely exhausted, but the sunlight altered my ability to sleep), polishing my daggers. He leaned against the wall, aura already heating up although neither of us said a word.
"The King was impressed."
I sniffed loudly, dagger thrust outward with an extra force that caused the leather to bend at my will. "Impressed. Mhm."
"Grace, what the hell is going on with you?"
"I'm just polishing my weapons, Zen. Nothing out of the ordinary."
"Who are you?" he questioned, nearly growling now that I added the spice of sarcasm to our conversation.
"What?"
"What's happened to you?" Zen asked; he still hadn't discarded any of his gear. "You've become this…thing…incapable of anything but destruction."
"I thought you wanted me to be fearless," I growled, turning my attention away from Zen and moving to continue my routine with the blades. A warm hand gripped my wrist, halting my progress.
"There's a difference between fearless and reckless," Zen chided angrily. "You've been callous on and off the battlefield, and it's getting more unsettling by the moment. I'm worried about you."
"Don't be; it's against your nature," I scoffed. "Stop being hypocritical. You're the master of ignoring your emotions."
Zen leaned in closer, forcing me to look into his bright eyes that now burned with incredulity. "Hypocritical is preaching about the power and strength of love and emotions, and then turning your back on them."
"I have priorities," I growled. "I'm going to destroy every one of them."
"You're destroying yourself in the process."
I held my breath, attempting to ignore the worry edging his aura and the fact that Zen was right. The recklessness would kill me eventually, and if it wasn't recklessness it'd be something else within this war. "I know that," I whispered. Zen dropped his hold on my arm, gaze never faltering.
If I wasn't fighting those few days, I was training my mind to better grasp the glimpses of Arthas. More than once I had reached out to him on my own accord, catching brief moments of his consciousness. Nothing helpful had risen thus far—but I was mostly excited about the progress of my own consciousness. With practice, I was able to remain within my own body while still keeping an eye on the other side. It was a funny feeling, really, and it drained a lot of my physical and mental strength, but it was improving. My vision was like a split projector, showing my own surroundings as well as Arthas' surroundings and thoughts.
Zen monitored me very closely whenever he knew I was reaching outward like that. After another one of our arguments, I had trampled to my room and tried to connect to Arthas once again. Apparently I had passed out from effort, because when I opened my eyes I was laying in Zen's arms, his worried eyes glazed with disapproval. Groaning, I pulled myself out of Zen's lap and instead gazed into his green eyes.
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Normally I don't pass out."
"I meant reaching the Scourge realm without my supervision," Zen muttered as he stood gracefully. I followed him onto my own feet.
"That's the point of my practice," I explained. "It's improving so that I don't need to be babysat."
Zen's aura flared the slightest, the warmth grazing my cheek as he clenched his fists. I knew I was only worsening the distance between us, and I knew I had feelings for Zen because it still pained me to keep him away. But he didn't understand that the burdens were my own to bear.
"I'm reaching out to you!" Zen seethed, though his voice was low and strangled. "Why can't you see that?"
Wincing, I turned away, looking instead at the stairs. My admiration of Zen certainly hadn't waned, that was for sure. Before I could explain myself to Zen, however, a veil of blue was settling before me, alerting me that I was again crossing over to Arthas' realm.
I clutched the banister with my right hand as the vision whooshed around me, glimpses of blues and purples streaking. This was definitely a foreign experience, and it caused a vertigo within me that caused me to sway. Zen's arms, however, braced me from behind.
And then I was truly stumped, because the vision that was supposed to belong to Arthas was more familiar on my own side, with Brae and Officer Jared gazing at me.
Quite the turn of events, indeed, rumbled my voice. It still belonged to Arthas, so how was I seeing such familiar faces?
My own body stumbled backwards, an attempt on my part to zoom out of the picture in hopes to understand. Zen caught me, crooning from behind me to look into my eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked carefully.
Brae was looking at me in wonder, eyes sparkling as he nudged Jared. I concentrated on the room within: cabinets, nursing beds, bright walls…
SI:7's infirmary?
You belong to the Scourge now, Arthas announced confidently. I have offered you a chance at a second life, and all I ask for is your assistance…
He's awake! Brae exclaimed, attempting to turn and proclaim the news to anyone who would listen. It's a miracle! I thought he was a goner for certain…
Stand, warrior. Let them believe you are alive and well. You shall be my eyes in this repulsive city. I need answers.
"No," I stated, gasping. My right hand remained on the banister, but my left rose to clutch Zen's sleeve. "SI:7." I took a step towards the stairs—I hadn't really tried to move during my visions, and now, as I staggered down the first couple of steps, I realized it was much more difficult to remain stable within both realms.
"Grace! You can't really be...?"
I clenched my eyes shut, the action momentarily keeping my visions of Arthas at bay. With a lack of grace capable only of me, I stumbled down the staircase, stopping at the doorway to gather my locality.
How are you feeling? echoed Brae's voice. I growled, stalking out of the house and through the streets. The sun's rays weren't helping my diluted state—sunlight glared into my eyes uncomfortably.
This is amazing.
Let them admire my work. Let them see that the Lich King still has insurmountable powers they must reckon with. They may have matched my power once, but now…
"Leave them alone," I growled loudly, still forcing my body towards SI:7. Zen's hand had grabbed my left forearm, an attempt at keeping me stable. He was baffled, still questioning me, but unable to decide whether or not to hold me back. Neither of us really wanted to cause a scene in the middle of Stormwind, with normal villagers wandering the streets.
I was determined. The Scourge would not infiltrate the city. Not like this, not now.
I'm good, the voice of his puppet answered hollowly. Snarling, I kept up my pace, the infirmary's surroundings occasionally seeping into my vision.
Once I did manage to stumble into SI:7's main entrance, I didn't hesitate in heading for Brae and his room. "Brae!" I screamed.
The sensation was almost overwhelming. I heard myself in both havens of consciousness; saw the man in question turn towards the door my body was now crawling toward. Officer Jared was now in front of the door, a questioning gaze turned to me. "Grace?"
Teeth grinding, I dragged my feet through the doorway, into the same room Brae was in. My senses whirled, skewed as my perceptions overlapped. I glared at the being who was now under control, not surprised that it was the bitten rogue that Brae had been trying to help for weeks. The rogue physician in question turned toward me, although all I could concentrate on was the void within his patient's eyes.
What scared me most was that I could see myself through his eyes. I looked so pale, so fragile as I steadied myself within the room. The purple tints in my eyes seemed much more prominent now as I gulped, breath coming in forced huffs.
"He's not one of us," I told Brae in a snarl. "He's Undead."
"What?" asked Brae. "I used the potions, Grace. He's fully recovered."
I shook my head. "No, he's not. We have to get rid of him. He's a spy, Brae."
"How can you say that, Grace?" asked Brae, his voice unsettled between hurt and confusion.
"He was too far gone when you treated him," I answered, taking a difficult step closer to the puppet. It seemed un-phased as it gazed right back into my own eyes. "The Scourge is behind him, Brae. He has to be rid of. You have to trust me."
How…is that possible? asked Arthas, his voice drumming through my head. How does she know?
"How do I know?" I growled, knowing that for once I was aware of something Arthas was not.
"You've seen through him, haven't you?" Zen asked in a whisper. "You can hear Arthas…"
"I see everything the puppet can," I added, not talking to anyone around me, but to Arthas. "I can hear every command the Lich King makes to this thing. Brae, we're all in danger if we don't act now."
Impossible!
roared the Lich King, his anger causing our bond to strengthen. I winced visibly, head pounding.
"This is your own doing," I growled at him.
Brae stood, torn as to what to do. Zen and Jared both approached him, their confidence in me causing Brae to bite his lip. "You know she's telling the truth," murmured Zen.
I swallowed again, barely able to hold on to myself. "Don't you remember me, Arthas?" I asked, smirking. "Clad's plan backfired then, your plan backfired in the Plaguelands, and this one will fail as well."
You will pay dearly for your actions, Arthas roared. You will feel the power of the Lich King. I will find you.
My mentality slipped a bit, body swaying from the overwhelming forces. "Kill it," I seethed through clenched teeth. "Kill it or I will."
"Brae." Zen stepped toward his friend, asking him for approval with only the mention of his name. He nodded, finally convinced that his subject had actually turned, and took a full step backward behind me.
Before Zen could even reach for his weapons, mine were already unsheathed as I stalked toward the monster. Its gaze was still dark and disturbing as I slashed both of my daggers through his chest. Zen may have uttered my name, but I was already driving the blade in my right hand through the chest, head turned to avoid seeing the image in two different perspectives. A cough was its only humanly response before the body collapsed onto the floor, the dark blood transferring to my gear I still hadn't taken off.
I will find you.
Furious with the voice that wouldn't wane, my dagger rose to deliver another blow to the already slumped over body, but Zen and Brae had both gotten a hold of my arms. "It's over, Grace, leave it alone," Zen rumbled into my ear.
"It's not over," I cried, finally relaxing in Zen's grasp. "It's just begun."
The rest of the day was spent in SI:7, even though I had every desire to simply take everything I had and flee the city. No one would listen to me, especially Zen, when I argued that it was safer that I leave.
"The Lich King is coming for me," I repeated over and over. "He'll come here, whether through me or otherwise. I can't put anyone else in danger."
The officers would have none of it. "Stormwind is safe," Brae droned. "You're safer within these walls, where there's a multitude of us, than alone out there."
"It's not my safety I'm worried about," I uttered, pounding my fist on the table. The water the men attempted to give me rattled on the surface. "He's going to start trying to reach my mind. He'll know that if I can see him on command, he has a chance at doing the same. And if he does manage to break the barrier, then no one around me is safe."
"You're panicking," Zen assured. "C'mon. You need some rest."
Shaking, I had no energy to object. I was completely drained, and even with the conviction that the Lich King was surely after me, I knew Zen would watch over me.
The next day wasn't any better. Or the next after that, for that matter. I was very careful around my friends in SI:7—careful to the point of skittishness. Constantly looking over my shoulder, trying to see the Lich King's thoughts, and torn between keeping an eye on SI:7 and keeping my distance in fear of their safety left me no time to consider my own safety.
Jared wouldn't let me outside of Stormwind. It was a stifling feeling, knowing I wasn't able to help—but at least this way I could warn Stormwind should any more attacks arise in Arthas' plans.
Those two days passed with difficulty. I was still awaiting the supposed reassignment Zen said I would get. It didn't seem like the transfer was looming the horizon any time soon, since I had a usefulness they wanted to keep close to those in command, and since I was most likely in danger anyway and needed protection.
I felt like a secret weapon that needed safeguarding. Wouldn't want the enemy to get a hold of a prize like that.
It was dusk when an unusual knock broke the silence between Zen and I. Hardly anyone ever came to Zen's house, and when they did arrive, it usually meant Zen had another one of his officer duties.
At that point, my relationship with Zen still hadn't been defined, and I was okay with that. The more I tried to push away any thought of him away, though, the more difficult it became to do so. I was waiting for the moment he would give up, quit reaching out to me—but his aura never retreated and his eyes never dulled out of their brilliance.
I didn't want him around. It pained me to see him so frustrated with something I was doing to him—but I didn't want him leaving either, because that hurt, too. So I wasn't excited at all when the knock came unexpectedly. Suddenly, I was even angrier than usual: how about I simply let everything walk out on me all at once, and call it a day?
Of course it was a selfish thought, and of course I was being hypocritical. I wanted to be distanced from Zen, but I didn't want to stay away; it was my fault for pulling us apart, but it was fate that triggered it; I was a female, but I was a rogue.
Sighing, Zen fiddled with his collar as he broke his leaning posture against the counter and paced toward the door. I growled, grumbling from the dining room table, until Zen threw an expected glance my way. "I'm sure it's nothing out of the ordinary."
"That's what I'm worried about," I muttered, glaring daggers at the door. If I had any choice, they'd be poisoned daggers, too.
Once Zen's hand touched the doorknob, I grumbled nonsense words, crossing my arms but unwilling to move from my seat. I couldn't see who our visitor as once the door was pulled open, but I did hear a very unfamiliar, feminine voice as it hurriedly explained something of importance to Zen. He nodded, his hand hesitating before Zen pulled the door open to reveal the woman at the door.
I didn't recognize her, but now both the woman and Zen looked at me expectedly. "She needs to speak to you," Without a word I stood, stalking to the door. The woman wasn't old, though lines of worry creased her face, and her gear hinted that she was a warrior within Stormwind. Instantly I was scared, knowing that any warrior besides Lucas seeking me out would only bring terrible news.
Zen stepped back, though he lingered in the kitchen. His aura was cooled with worry as well, and I knew without looking at him that he and I were thinking of the same explanation for the female's appearance.
"Your name is Grace Fulstorm?" The blonde asked, her bangs clinging to the seat on her forehead. Her cheeks glistened, but I refused to decide whether the sheen was from tears or perspiration. I nodded, my right hand clutching the doorframe for some much-needed support. The woman bit her lip. "My name is Aurelia. I knew your brother, Lucas."
I groaned, my temple thumping against the frame. My heart had hit the floor. I knew this was coming the moment I saw her on the doorstep, but I wasn't ready for this news. I couldn't possibly prepare myself…
"He told me…if anything was to happen to him…to come to you personally." I choked on the brittleness of her voice, forcing my body to remain anchored to that door. My knees were shaking; Zen moved a few steps closer to me.
"What happened to my brother?" I demanded in a croak. "Where was he?"
"Northrend." Aurelia looked down, composing herself. "Helping with a few small Scourge attacks. They got him during one of the routine fights…"
Tears fought their way down my cheeks, burning through the ice welling inside me. How could this happen to me. To him.
"They killed my brother," I hissed, my own acknowledgement making my body shake two-fold.
"We don't know that for certain," she insisted. "He was a high-ranked officer. He wasn't the only officer that disappeared."
This new piece of information didn't comfort me as she might have thought it would. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"He was taken away. Nobody saw them die."
I laughed at the concept. "The Scourge does not take prisoners. You expect me to believe they found my brother and merely carried him away?"
"I refuse to accept that Lucas may be dead," Aurelia stated, her thin voice firm. "If there's a slim chance of his survival—slim—I'll keep hoping for him. You should, too. Lucas deserves at least that."
I paused, letting another tear carve a path down my cheek and around my jaw. "Northrend, you said?"
"Yes. It's where the Lich King is based."
Shaking my head, I pounded my knuckles into the wall. "It doesn't add up."
"Which is why there's still hope," insisted the blonde. "I must go. If anything else comes up, I'll notify you immediately."
What else could possibly come up? I wanted to seethe. A ransom note? An apology letter?
With a small smile of encouragement and a whisper of "I'm sorry" she was gone. For a few moments I remained there, the doorway wide open as my emotions whirled around me. And as I struggled between logic and emotion, in regards to which side believed what, the townsfolk in the streets continued with the humdrum of their typical lives.
It just wasn't fair.
My hand forced the door shut, the wood landing in place with a bang that could startle a deaf person, and effectively blocked everything outside from my vision. The closest thing to me was still the door—in my rage I punched and kicked at it, not minding that my knuckles would bruise or the cut on my arm would split open.
So easy behind this door. A sting shot through my left arm, forcing me to stop my pummeling. I collapsed, sputtering with sobs of anger and sadness.
Zen's hands rested on my shoulders, the warmth causing a shudder to run down my back. "They're going to do their best to find your brother."
"How can you say that?" I seethed through my tears. "That's not true, Zen, and you know it." My forehead touched the rough surface of the door as I cradled my left arm. "The King of Stormwind didn't even want to send help to the people in the Plaguelands. You know none of the superiors in Northrend are going to try to help Lucas or the others. To them, those taken are as good as dead."
"It's going to be okay…"
"Even if they did want to find Lucas, even if they believed he survived…they don't know the Lich King. They don't have any leads whatsoever."
It was as if I had made the decision before I had even considered my options. Still shaking, I pulled myself off the floor, Zen's hands dropping from their perch on my shoulders. I knew the Lich King better than most, maybe better than anyone over there. I had all the leads needed to find my brother, and if I didn't, I could find them. "I need to find Lucas," I muttered, gripping the knob of the door and pulling. Before Zen could ask, I gave him his answer: "I'm going to ask for a transfer to Northrend."
I stepped outside, into the sunlight and the oblivious cheery faces of Stormwind. The cut on my arm felt warm, and when I used the cuff of my long sleeve to wipe away my tears, I realized the color red was bleeding through the white linen.
"Grace, you're being hasty…"
Zen was following again, aura hazed with worry. My reckless attitude once again kept him at bay from reaching me.
Jared was responsible for SI:7's initiation of rogues, as well as their placement. He also referred possible promotions to Rillhelm, acting as his sort of right hand man. It was a wonder that he, himself, wasn't higher on the ladder.
"Officer Jared," I breathed as I reached his office. His mouth opened, whether to greet or question Zen and me, but I didn't let him speak. "I have to be transferred to SI: 7's base in Northrend. Tonight."
"Whoa, Grace," he leaned in, a hand reaching out to invite me to take a seat. "Slow down. Where did this come from?"
"I can be a bigger help closer to the Lich King," I said quickly. "I need the transfer."
"I tried to talk some sense into her," Zen informed his comrade as he folded his arms. "She wouldn't listen."
"You look terrible," Jared acknowledged. "Try to cool off, Grace. Sit. Let's talk about this."
"Her brother was in Northrend when he was kidnapped by the Scourge," Zen explained as I suppressed a growl of annoyance.
Jared exhaled, biding time as his lips pulled into a grimace. "I see. Grace, I can't simply send you to Northrend."
"Why not?" I demanded.
"It's a long process, and the SI:7 members currently stationed up there are functioning fine. It would draw unnecessary attention. I don't think this would be a healthy move for you, either."
"I'm not worried about me," I growled.
"But we are. Wait this out, Grace. If the sector of SI:7 in Northrend sends for help, you'll be the first I fill out the release of."
"That's not good enough. My brother will be dead by then."
"I'm sorry, that's all I can do."
"I'm going to Northrend, with or without SI:7's authorization," I announced in a low whisper.
Zen's aura froze, felt detached for a moment, and Jared winced. Neither was angry, but both now knew that they were walking on thin ice.
"If you leave without our consent, you're considered AWOL, and you'll be handled accordingly," Jared droned with cautiousness.
"I'll take my chances." All I could hear was my delayed breathing for a moment. "I need to go, Jared. Please."
"There's nothing more I can do, Grace. I'm sorry." He looked down, voice hallow.
I left briskly, too angry to speak to anyone. Every moment wasted here was another moment less my brother had. The decision was made. I wasn't going to simply sit here.
"Grace," Zen was pleading now as I stepped inside his house. He knew me too well, knew what I was aiming for. "Grace, please just listen for a moment."
I didn't say anything in reply. My mind was already jumping to the clothing I'd bring, and how much I would have to buy. I had some money left from some of the missions…
"You're making a mistake," blurted Zen. His swiftness, despite my accelerated learning, had always been beyond my own. Before my right foot was securely on the first step leading to my room, his hand had trapped my wrist in a desperate grip.
I closed my eyes tightly, holding my breath in an attempt at keeping Zen's aura out of my senses. It was frazzled with indignation, but defeat was already clawing at the edges. "You can't stop me," I declared in a low voice. The sentence was choppy and brittle, but it was enough to eat away at Zen's determination.
"You may believe you have some Human rights here," Zen insisted, "but you also have a dedication to this sector, Grace. And I do as well."
"I'm not asking you to overlook my disobedience. This is my choice and my problem alone."
"As your superior I have a duty to report your defiance."
I said nothing. With three more steps Zen's hand was torn from my own, and I was on my way upstairs without a persistent rogue behind me. My first impulse wasn't to pack. Haggardly I slumped onto my bed, attempting to breathe deeply. Still, my heart couldn't keep up with the change of events. With every beat of my heart, Lucas was in more danger. He could have already been killed…
No. Shooting up from my bed, I hurriedly packed for my trip north. My leather knapsack had been discarded on top of my chest piece—now it was in my hands, and I was tossing important items in it with a speed I didn't realize was Human.
I remembered to toss in my bag of gold coins. My daggers were now at my sides, and I remembered bitter sweetly that they had been a gift from my teacher. From my friend. From my…
It would be cold, I mused. I added as many layers as I could possibly fit onto my body, including two cloaks and gloves trimmed with lynx fur.
When I stealthed downstairs, I noted with relief that Zen had retreated to his room, black curtain pulled shut. He had, recently, left the curtain open at night, as if conveying that our relationship was now more comfortable. Now it was drawn closed, a symbol of the barrier now shoved between Zen and me. It was quiet, and with a bit of a reach towards Zen's aura I realized the rogue was sound asleep.
He didn't deserve an apprentice like this. Hurriedly I retrieved a sample of parchment and quill, and scrawled three words across the paper that could never convey how I actually felt:
I'm so sorry.
I folded it and pitched it onto the dinner table, and then I also unpinned my SI:7 insignia and tossed it in the same direction. It clinked on contact, the piece of metal tumbling and settling atop the parchment and becoming nothing more than a meaningless paperweight.
And then I was gone. By then it was well into nightfall. The nocturnal insects were chirping their lullabies, and an echo of hearty laughter danced down the street.
It took three tries to find a ship that was both heading toward Northrend that night and was okay with having a female tag along for the journey. A slightly grumpy dwarf, whom I was sure would deny my offer, actually accepted my company after I threw in a dozen pieces of gold in exchange. We departed before the sun made its return from below the horizon. Stormwind's familiar architecture was behind me, getting farther and farther by the moment. But the people and experiences I had tried to leave behind seemed to reach out, seeping through Stormwind's walls. Stormwind disappeared behind us, but the troubles and qualms lurked, their essence soaring atop the waves behind us and catching a ride on my shoulders.
Soooo that's it for meow. Hope you enjoyed =]