"Nothing Good Can Come From Searing Gorge"
"There he is! Guards, stop that mage!"
Librarian Mae Paledust bustled out into the cold, wintry night with two Ironforge Guards clanking behind her in full armor.
Glittergold squawked in dismay while Rumer and Pasha looked on in surprise.
"We have to go." The Night Elf jumped onto the saber's back and steered him around.
"Don't leave me," Glittergold called.
Rumer hesitated, but Pasha, despite his disdain for the Gnome, was more sympathetic. "Take him."
Groaning, Rumer reached down and plucked the little mage off the ground just as the Guards were about to descend on him. Springing forward, Pasha tore off down the mountainside.
They rode through the night and didn't stop until they were well south of the great Dwarven city and far from its imperial reach.
At daybreak, Rumer halted Pasha and turned to Glittergold. "This is where you get off."
"You can't leave me here."
"You're out of danger."
"But you need me."
The rogue and her saber shared a glance. "For what?"
Sputtering, the Gnome looked around him as if the answer might materialize before him. Then his eyes lit up. "I can make fire." He rubbed his hands together until a fireball burst into flames between them.
"So can I." Rumer struck a match with her thumb nail. "Can you cook?"
"Not advisable. But I can sew." He motioned to the golden embroidered handiwork on his robes.
Shrugging, she said, "I wear leather."
Glittergold stroked his beard in contemplation.
"Oh." She snapped her fingers with an idea. "Do you know how to make alcohol?"
"That's a Dwarven specialty. But I know a Goblin who can make rocket fuel."
"I don't have a rocket."
The two shuffled their feet awhile in awkward silence then Rumer said, "Well, good luck." Pumping the mage's tiny hand up and down, she clapped him on the back and mounted Pasha again.
Just as she was about to signal the giant cat to take off, Glittergold stopped her. "Wait! I'm the last known link to your sister. What if I neglected to tell you something?"
"Did you?"
"Well, no, but…I told you where to find her. You owe me."
"I don't owe you anything. You almost got me arrested."
"She's just a librarian. What could she possibly do to us?"
"Exactly. Which is why you're perfectly safe."
For a moment, the mage looked lost and not in the sense that he didn't know where he was. Rumer's heart creaked, but she vowed after helping the Marines in Dustwallow Marsh not to stick her neck out for anyone again. It took up precious time she didn't have.
"Babs is waiting for you," she said to him not unkindly. "She loves you and that's not something you throw away. Go to her."
Just as quickly as the Gnome's look of desperation had appeared, it was replaced with his familiar countenance of self-importance. "Well, as riveting as being in the company of you and that uncivilized cat has been, there are a great many things I must attend to. None of which involve associating with a known fugitive who will undoubtedly get me killed. So without further prolongation, I must bid you farewell."
"I understand," the rogue said bowed her head.
Giving him one last look over her shoulder, the mage trotting away indignantly in the opposite direction, Rumer clicked her heels into Pasha's sides and urged him onward.
"I think I'm quite civilized actually," the cat said in a puff of breath.
Rumer nodded and stroked his fur. "More than me, Pasha. More than me."
They continued riding through the Stonewrought Pass until midday bore down upon them. As they exited the Dwarven-carved tunnel, they were greeted with the bones of critters not hearty enough to withstand the heat of Searing Gorge or the venomous Glassweb spiders that lurked along the dusty road.
"I don't like it here," Pasha said, sniffing the air in each direction.
"I don't either, but it's the only way to get to Stormwind."
The great saber stopped and turned his head to look back at his rider. "Stormwind?"
Nodding, Rumer answered, "The book was gone. Stolen, I'm sure. And now Brightsun has it and turning it over to the highest bidder. You heard what the mage said. If Mathias Shaw didn't order my father's execution, then he knows my father was innocent. And I'm sure Whisperra figured that out too. She would have confronted him."
"But you're banned from Stormwind. You won't be able to set foot inside the gates."
"I won't be entering from the gates. Now let's keep going before something kills us."
The canyon walls rose up around them toward the blood red sky, and remnants of ancient trees smoldered in blackened stumps. Even the chickens that wandered aimlessly were the color of ash.
They passed a small cemetery of freshly dug graves with offerings of pick axes and sledgehammers, a treasure chest (which Rumer refrained from looting at Pasha's disapproving scowl), and a wooden stake at the headstones.
"These are Dwarven names," she said aloud, inspecting each.
"Casualties from digging the tunnel?"
"Let's hope."
But she didn't believe it. No, these deaths were the result of something far more sinister because nothing good could come from Searing Gorge.
Walking against the smoke-filled air, Rumer covered her face with the trophy bandana while Pasha kept his head down and sneezed every few steps from the acrid haze that enveloped them. It was well into afternoon, and temperatures soared. Heat wavered over the stone path that created an infinite rippling pool around them.
"There's a camp on the right," she said. "Let's take a look."
Leading Pasha up a small ridge, she surveyed the area for inhabitants. Though it seemed as if it had been recently occupied with two tents set up for sleeping, a campfire still blazing, flies buzzing around fresh meat cooking in the hot sun, and crates of mining supplies, it also had the feeling of being abandoned in a hurry.
"Who do you think used to live here?" Pasha asked, his nose poking around the rotting carcass on the makeshift butcher block.
Rumer glanced toward the cemetery they had just passed.
"Whoever they were, I don't think they're coming back. We'll rest here until evening and travel when it's cooler."
After unsaddling Pasha, Rumer used a discarded crowbar to open each of the wooden barrels lined up one by one. To her dismay, they only contained water, but her mistsaber lapped up the contents sloppily then belched before settling down in the shade of one of the tents.
She laughed and said, "Maybe the mage was right."
Snorting in disdain, Pasha turned his back on her.
As weary as she was, Rumer had a hard time falling asleep. Guilt over leaving Glittergold stranded in a foreign land should have kept her awake, but she was more concerned with how she would get to Master Shaw without being caught. His headquarters were high in the barracks tower in Old Town and surrounded by training grounds and warriors who patrolled the area from Command Center and Champion's Hall.
Not only was Shaw the head of SI:7 but he was also the Thumb of the Stormwind Assassins. A secret guild of the deadliest and most trustworthy of rogues, the Stormwind Assassins also maintained covert operations that even the King knew nothing about. The Thumb was the highest level attainable and Ebon had been his second in command.
It was her dream, ever since Rumer was a young girl, of becoming a First Finger like her father, assigned only the most dangerous targets for elimination. She would close her eyes before falling asleep and watch herself traveling to foreign lands, sneaking through enemy cities in the dead of night, and strike the fatal blow to a Horde leader like Sylvanas Windrunner that would ultimately save the Alliance from complete destruction and win her father's love.
And even though she had been traveling through foreign lands and sneaking through enemy territories, she would never be recognized for doing something heroic or good. That part of the dream had died when Ebon did.
In the stifling air of Searing Gorge, Rumer was too exhausted to keep the memories of her childhood locked away.
"Your dedication is admirable, young Nightblade, but don't be so focused that you lose sight of what's around you."
Master Shaw had strolled into the training ground under cover of a half-moon glinting in the darkness. Rumer had been too busy trying to execute a series of sweeps, kicks, and rolls without stabbing herself to notice his approach.
Standing at attention, she performed the SI:7 salute. "Forgive me, Master. I was practicing for my test."
"Martial tests are not for six weeks yet."
"I want to be perfect," she answered.
Mathias Shaw just laughed. "From what I've seen, you already surpass your peers."
"But not my sister."
Nodding in acknowledgment, Master Shaw unsheathed his own daggers. "She is flawless in her technique. But you make up for it with your passion."
"Passion?"
"Whisperra fights with her head, by the book. She does what she must to achieve the mission. But you, I see fire in your heart. You fight for something more. Tell me, why do you want to beat your sister so badly?"
Rumer had always known deep down that Whisperra was her father's favorite, though he had never shown it outwardly. Rumer felt responsible for her mother's death because, shortly after giving birth, Laur'ellyn Nightblade had developed an infection and a fever that none of the healers could treat. It had come on so suddenly that she died with Rumer at her breast.
Answering Mathias, she said, "I just want my father to notice me."
"Then we shall make sure he does. En garde."
Shaw assumed an offensive stance with one dagger thrust forward and the other held high over his head, and she followed suit. They maneuvered around the training grounds in a combination of advances and retreats, thrusts and parries, feints and reprises. With only the half-moon's light glinting against their blades, Rumer kept her eyes trained on Master Shaw's attacking hand and practiced her evasive maneuvers.
In a lunge she wasn't expecting and a left hand she hadn't seen coming, Shaw disarmed Rumer's forward dagger. "You see there," he said still circling his student, "you were too focused on what was in front of you to see that an attack can come from anywhere."
He thrust at her again and Rumer parried.
"If you want to beat your sister, or anyone else, you must use your strength. And it isn't fighting by the book."
Shaw executed a grand sweeping attack that Rumer rolled out of. Springing up behind him, she transferred her dagger to her dominant hand, which left her other hand free to land punches. There were no boundaries now. This wasn't one of the martial tests where everything had to be precise. She was fighting for her life (and her reputation) with the most dangerous and revered assassin in all of Azeroth. If she could impress him, she would surely be able to win her father's love.
Like a windmill, Shaw came at her with both daggers whirling, and no chance of sidestepping. Timed to the second, Rumer dropped to the ground and swept Shaw's legs out from under him.
He laughed heartily, as all Humans did, and took her down, tossing her remaining weapon several feet away. They grappled for the superior position, and although Mathias Shaw was much bigger and stronger and had easily pinned her down, it wasn't long before Rumer slipped out of his grasp.
Somewhat surprised, he hesitated a moment too long, and she grabbed for his inferior hand, dismantling his blade, and wrapping his arm in a painful lock. Kicking his knee out, she flipped him over and landed the point of the other dagger she had stolen from him against his throat.
For a moment they both lay there panting in short gasps and staring back at each other. Rumer's guard was still up and her muscles still clenched awaiting the slightest movement of retaliation on her mentor's part.
"See?" he finally said. "Passion."
"I didn't want to die." She smiled and offered a hand to help him up.
"You would not have fought so intuitively if that were the only reason. Many a young rogue, your sister included, try to mask their emotions, to detach themselves from the act of killing. But the best assassins will harness their emotions and call upon them to fight for a higher cause. Your father does this. That is why I want him and no other rogue to fight by my side."
It was imperative, now more than ever, for Rumer to win her father's favor, the man more venerated than any other assassin in all of SI:7.
"Now, young Nightblade, it's time to rest. It's well past your curfew."
She bowed her head and retrieved her daggers.
"How did you manage to slip past the wardens anyway?" he asked. "They are some of my best men."
She shrugged as if he should have known. "I rappelled from the window."
"Remind me to install bars in your room." He chuckled.
Just as Rumer was about to head into the dormitory, she stopped and turned back to Shaw who was still watching her. "Will you put in a good word for me with my father?"
A benevolent smile crossed his face and his eyes crinkled. "Always."
She nodded her thanks, began walking again then thought better of it. "And next time, don't let me win."
Mathias Shaw laughed.
Baring her blade, Rumer woke to Pasha grunting and nudging her leg.
"What's the matter?"
Like a shot, she sat up and listened with keen ears.
"Thunder," her furry companion said.
A rumble sounded from far off in the distance, but unlike the sound of two air masses colliding, this thunder rolled continuously, growing louder each moment.
Night had already fallen when she crept out of the tent. The sky had turned a deep magenta with heavy black clouds suspended in the dead air. Sweat trickled down Rumer's face as she moved closer toward the road.
"That's not thunder," she said as the sound of boot steps approached. "Hide."
Advancing around the corner in a dusty haze, an army of black-clothed Dwarves marched in formation. Their skin was a sickly bluish grey, far from the general ruddy complexion of mountain natives, and their hair and beards were the color of soot.
Rumer watched from her crouched position behind a water barrel while Pasha peered out of the tent.
"What's wrong with their eyes?" he whispered.
Indeed, where their eyes should have been were two blazing orange flames as if the molten core of the earth burned within them.
"I don't know and I don't want to find out," Rumer answered. "We need to leave before they find us."
"If we're heading toward Blackrock Mountain and that's where they're coming from then where do you think they're going?"
She didn't want to think about what evil plan they were up to so far from the volcanic depths of the mountain.
"If I had to guess, I'd say Ironforge."