"Beginnings"
Before she headed outside to check on Pasha, Rumer bought a round of drinks for the tavern's patrons and told Innkeeper Wiley to keep them coming.
"Stay," she told the High Elf and handed him a stein of ale. "It's the least I can do for your generosity." Though she was careworn and dirty, the Night Elf's beauty showed through the grime, her glowing white eyes reflecting candlelight and flames. She smiled at him in a way no one could resist.
Brightsun tipped his head back and laughed. "You are like your sister in many ways. I cannot refuse." He took the drink and lounged back in the privacy of the corner table.
Good, Rumer thought, then it shouldn't take long to find out more about that package.
With one gulp, she downed the first taste of alcohol she'd had all day and visited the butcher. He cut a few tender wolf steaks for Pasha and cooked one up especially for her. The tip she gave him was more than enough to compensate from taking him away from his nighttime revelry.
"Who loves you?" Rumer asked as she threw one of the raw steaks to Pasha.
A deep purr escaped from his throat before he caught the meat and devoured it. She sat down in front of him and sunk her teeth into her own medium-rare steak. It melted like butter in her mouth and she gave a silent toast to the butcher for preparing a feast that for once didn't include fish.
"Come on," she said, tossing the second piece of fleshy meat to the giant cat, and started walking away. "We don't have much time, and I have to get back."
"Where are we going?" Pasha asked with well-deserved suspicion in his voice.
"To clean up."
He whined, but Rumer knew he would feel better after an extended dunk in seawater.
They waded over to a small inlet where she stripped off her leather and unbuckled Pasha's saddle, harness, and reins. She did much coaxing and splashing to get his fur completely drenched then rubbed perfumed soap all over both of them.
"Where'd you get that?" Pasha hissed.
"I lifted it off a vendor in Ashenvale. Don't you want to smell pretty?"
He snarled in response and snapped at her as she tried to scrub him.
"Suit yourself. I have work to do." The moonlight sparkled on her wet, silvery skin as she slipped back into her leggings and torn shirt. The rest of her armor needed a breather, but she made sure to strap her daggers back on.
Thalo'thas Brightsun was waiting for her in the tavern. She sat next to him and ordered more ale. She hadn't met anyone she couldn't out drink and hoped this Blood Elf would be no different. She couldn't help but wonder what he would be doing at the receiving end of a package with the royal Alliance seal. Was he a Silvermoon spy or a traitor to the Horde? How had he come to know her sister so intimately, and what more did he know about her father's execution?
No! She wouldn't think about that. Her father had been a traitor to the Alliance and to her family. He'd left them penniless and in peril.
Brightsun was good company for her. He had a mischievous sense of humor and he was easy on the eyes. The two drank and coerced the Orc peon into carousing with them. After more than a few draughts of ale, the blonde High Elf finally began to show signs of intoxication. Slipping from his seat, slurring his words, and laughing at everything Rumer said, it didn't seem likely he would notice a quick pickpocket of the mysterious package.
Nevertheless, Rumer decided to create a distraction. The Orc was becoming belligerent and, using it to her advantage, she insinuated to him that the Human deckhands in the back of the tavern were itching for a fight. Of course, the peon didn't think twice and stomped over to them with fists swinging.
While the mercenary ship runner was caught up in the excitement, cheering for his fellow Horde, Rumer slipped behind him and pulled the package from his knapsack. With the stealth of a black cat, she crept out of the inn.
Just as she was about to open it, a hand clamped down on her wrist.
"I do believe that's mine." Captain Brightsun no longer had the flushed cheeks or the glazed eyes of a drunken Blood Elf. Instead, he was the perfect picture of sobriety.
The bastard tricked me!
Rumer was not about to give up so easily, but this time she wouldn't resort to playing games.
"Your allegiance is to the Horde as mine is to the Alliance," she said. "And you are in possession of a communiqué from the royal house of Stormwind. It is my duty to see what dealings you have with them."
Though Brightsun loosened his grip on her, she did not loosen hers on the package.
"What do you think you will find, Night Elf?" The haughty look returned to his face.
"I'll tell you after I open it. Now will you let me go or do I have to use my wiles against you?"
Just then, Pasha walked up to the couple. He stood possessively and protectively against his mistress's leg and let a low snarl escape his lips.
Brightsun grinned and unhanded her. "Please do open it then use your wiles against me anyway."
Rumer stepped back as Pasha stepped between them. She tore the paper from the package.
It was a leather-bound journal with the Stormwind emblem burned into the cover that when she tried to open it, Brightsun slammed it shut and snatched it out of her hand.
"What is this?" she asked.
"It is none of my concern," he answered in a voice as smooth as the finest silk in Darnassus. "I am merely the messenger."
In one swift movement, Rumer had the blade of her dagger to the High Elf's throat. "Who do you work for?"
"You have a lot to learn, young rogue." His words dripped with condescension. "If you wish to take on the mighty Stormwind Empire, you would be wise to find your sister first."
Pasha hissed, and she pressed the blade further into the flesh of his neck. "I don't care about Stormwind. I'm just trying to find my sister. What does she have to do with this?"
In an invisible flourish, Captain Brightsun had removed himself from his position, pulling Rumer to his chest and forcing her own dagger to her throat.
His face was so close she smelled the ale on his breath and felt his lips against her ear as he spoke.
"She is the key that will unlock the corruption behind those great stone walls."
Pasha pounced, but Brightsun had already released his hold and was several steps away with the journal in his hand.
He turned back, sincerity flashing in his blue eyes. "Find her," was all he said and continued down to the dock.
"No!" The giant saber was about to lunge after him when Rumer held him back.
Pasha snarled. "Do you believe him?"
She watched the Blood Elf walk to where his ship was waiting to receive him. There'd been something about him, the way he'd spoken of her sister, the way he'd let Rumer think she'd gotten the upper hand. Like he'd wanted her to find out what really happened.
Tracing the spot on her throat where the dagger had pressed her flesh, she felt warm, sticky drops of blood. There was no doubt he could have killed her if he'd wanted to. Even with Pasha standing inches away.
"Yes, I do."
Leaving the Broken Keel Tavern in drunken chaos, Rumer and Pasha took up residence by the blacksmith's burning forge. It was warm and they were alone. Soon, Pasha was contented and purring in his sleep, legs stretched out and his belly exposed. Rumer, however, permitted herself only glimpses of slumber between her swirling thoughts.
She replayed the scene of her sister's abduction over in her mind all night searching for some new bit of memory to confirm the Blood Elf's accusations.
It had been early spring in Teldrassil, the earth moist from the winter's snow and the nights still clear and cold. She and Whisperra, home on holiday from their SI:7 training, had been in their upstairs bedroom dressed in long nightshirts and studying their training manuals. They'd always been fascinated by Ebon Nightblade's profession in Stormwind's secret society of rogues, and in a few short years they hoped to graduate and follow in his footsteps.
It was then the sisters heard shouting and the pound of hoof beats fast approaching on the muddy road. They ran to the window and looked out. Dark, armored men with hideous barred helms and blazing torches stopped before their small dwelling hollowed out of a giant tree trunk.
Whisperra ran downstairs, leaving Rumer alone in the tiny room with one burning candle. Their father's voice had been so harsh, so commanding, as he ordered Whisperra back upstairs and to keep out of sight. With their faces huddled together, the girls spied on the confrontation below.
Ebon Nightblade had stood his ground before the army of monsters, his daggers gleaming green and dripping with fresh poison.
"What vile creatures are you that plague my doorstep?" he'd asked.
The largest of the armored men dismounted and walked up to their father as if he hadn't heard the question. Or hadn't cared. A scroll was produced by another of the army and unrolled.
In an echoing, metallic voice, the monster began to speak. "Special Operative Commander Ebon Nightblade of the Ravenholdt Initiative you have hereby been charged with treason against the King of Stormwind, His Majesty Varian Wrynn, and the entire Alliance faction. How do you plead?"
"What evidence do you have of this?" their father had asked just as fiercely.
"The evidence in your handwriting has been recovered by SI:7 along with the Blood Elf in possession of it." He had thrown something to the ground before Ebon, who snatched it up to inspect it.
"And what does Mathias Shaw say? I answer to no one but him."
Rumer and Whisperra had been under tutelage of Master Shaw, the leader of SI:7, since they had become of age. He had been a pleasant enough Human with a fatherly affection for them and had given them the privilege of training as assassins when it was nearly unheard of for females. But Master Shaw had been impressed with their skills, and he'd regarded their father as both his ally and his best friend.
"It is his signature on the Order of Execution."
Impossible! Rumer's brain had screamed. She wouldn't believe Master Shaw had betrayed her father like that.
Though it had been almost imperceptible, she noticed the slump of defeat in her father's shoulders as if he had been expecting this.
"Innocent or guilty? What say you, Commander Nightblade?" the metallic voice asked again from deep within the helm.
Ebon spat in the direction of the armored monster then said, "Be it known that Ebon Nightblade, Commander of Special Operations in the Ravenholdt Initiate admits to treason against the corruption of the Stormwind Empire and the entire faction of Alliance races."
Rumer had watched through blurry tears as her father was disarmed then bludgeoned with fist weapons and maces.
Never once did he fight back.
Trying to shield her sister's eyes from the spectacle below, Whisperra had been too late. Rumer had already seen the armored monster's giant sword swing in a wide arc, slice through the air, and sever through her father's neck.
She had cried out and slammed her pale palms against the window. The monster who had executed her father heard and looked up to the dimly lit window. And saw her face.
Whisperra, sobbing herself, scooped Rumer up and brought her downstairs to the hidden door in the floorboards. She handed her a lantern and a box of matches from the mantle.
"Be wary of spinnerets and follow the tunnel to the end. Once you are in Darnassus, stick to the shadows and tell no one your name."
"Aren't you coming?" Rumer asked.
"I'll meet you there. There are things I must recover first," Whisperra answered.
Rumer had known what she'd meant. She was planning on going after the evidence the army had charged their father with. "No! I can't make it all that way without you. Come with me, please!"
But her sister pushed her farther down the ladder into the tunnel and shut the trapdoor.
Rumer had stood in the pitch black of the carved out tree trunk breathing in the damp, rotten wood. Overcome with fear, her hands clenched around the wooden rungs while she tried to peer between the floorboards into the room above.
She heard scurrying and the ring of blades as Whisperra gathered their father's weapons. And then the splinter of the front door as an axe chopped through it.
There'd been no sound other than the heavy footfall of the armored executioner who'd entered. Through the knotholes, Rumer had witnessed her sister, baring a dagger twice her size, defend herself against the monster. She'd moved with the same grace and agility she'd shown while training in SI:7, slipping from shadow to shadow, and tumbling just out of reach.
"My, you are a lively one," the metallic voice had echoed. "I'm sure the Master will be pleased with you." Then he unsheathed his sword and brought it down on the table trapping Whisperra between it and the wall.
She didn't scream or beg for her life when the arm had reached out and snatched her up, but Rumer had seen her sister's legs dangling and struggling in its grasp.
"Shh, now, pretty young thing. I wouldn't dream of hurting you."
The footsteps receded out of their small home.
And that was the last Rumer had seen of her sister.
The light of morning broke early, and at the first clang of the passenger ship's arrival, Rumer and Pasha were awake and heading down to the dock.
"What do you think was in that journal?" Pasha asked.
Rumer's thoughts were still lost in the dark memories of her childhood. Two things had stood out this time—first, her father had been in league with a Blood Elf, and she had reason to believe it was Captain Brightsun. Secondly, the executioner must have taken Whisperra to none other than Master Mathias Shaw. If anyone knew what had happened to her sister, it would be him.
"Something that could destroy the Empire."
"Do you care?"
"Not unless it helps me find my sister."
Shipmaster Grimble was a cranky Goblin with a ruddy face and a skeptical look in his eye. "Talk to me," he said as Rumer kneeled before him.
"Do you remember a Night Elf named Whisperra Nightblade staying here?"
The Goblin's red eyes narrowed and scrutinized her up and down. In the grating, cartoony voice all Goblins had, he said, "Come to think of it, you do resemble her. But then all Night Elves look alike. She dressed a bit nicer though."
Rumer was in no mood to hear how shabby her armor looked or how bad it smelled. There would be time enough to buy fresh leather later when she reached a decent sized town.
"What do you know of her?" she asked instead.
He scratched a floppy ear with gnarled fingers. "Whisperra. A beautiful name for a beautiful face. She didn't stay long. A fortnight is all. Seemed to know Captain Brightsun well."
"How long ago was that?"
"Maybe a season or two ago. Hard to tell. The weather never changes here. But she was waiting for someone. Wanted to know when he got here."
Rumer clapped her hands. "Yes, a man. Do you remember him?"
"He wasn't a man at all. Just one of those pesky, little Gnomes. An arrogant thing shooting fireballs all over the docks. And insolent too! He polymorphed Innkeeper Wiley into a sheep for not having fresh cinnamon rolls. Let's see, his name was …" It took forever for the shipmaster to think of it. "Glittergold! Elder Glittergold! And if he ever sets foot in my town again, I'll have that puny mage turned into ogre kibble!"
"If I see him, I'll be sure to tell him. Now, where did he go?"
"Made sure to ship him out on the first flight to Theramore. Let the sea monster deal with him."
"Did Whisperra go with him?"
The shipmaster rang the bell signaling the Maiden's Fancy was about to leave port. "She crept out of here in the middle of the night, but if she followed him there, I don't know."
Rumer thought back to her knowledge of Theramore in Dustwallow Marsh. The reports about the sea monster were accurate, but that was hardly worth visiting the seaside fortress for. What business would the Gnome have there so far from home? Finding Elder Glittergold was her only hope of tracking down her elusive sister.
"Will this ship take me there?" she asked Grimble.
"Nope," he said. "This one goes to Booty Bay. A rough port, that one is. But I'm sure you can buy passage on one of the merchant ships." He pointed to one sailing some distance away.
Captain Thalo'thas Brightsun's long, blonde hair streamed out in the ocean breeze. He stood commandingly at the ship's wheel and waved farewell. Rumer smiled, though forlornly, and waved back.
Picking the Goblin's pocket, Rumer came up with some loose change. "Thank you, Shipmaster," she said and offered it back to him as a tip.
Grimble chuckled. "Glad I could help."
She led the way up to the flightmaster with Pasha grumbling behind.
"You know I how I feel about flying."
"You don't have a choice. Unless you'd rather run into those Tauren again."
The saber roared in response. "We ride. This time I lead."