Well, it finally came up. I hope you enjoy.
I own nothing of Warcraft, but I am looking forward to the movie.
Chasing Through Hell
Guilt and Admission
Maurus hurried down the dark hallway, his hooves clacking loudly against the rough stone underneath him. The sound spread out into the hall and came back distorted, sounding like the crack of breaking bones, twisting together with distant, pained moans, reedy mewling and metallic whines that slithered out from unseen doors. The air was heavy, hot and dry and he had to struggle to draw it down into his protesting lungs, just like he had to force his heavy limbs to move, to press on into the thick darkness that fought against his every step. His slow run allowed the steps behind him and the sickly light to come ever closer, though the light failed to reveal any of the hallway ahead.
He felt his heart sink when the floor began to dip and the quality of the sound changed. He was already utterly lost, deep beneath the earth and feeling the weight of every ounce of stone pressing in around him, but the corridor was tightening and he knew that he would have trouble staying upright soon.
The incline grew steeper and as he almost slipped on the slick floor, his flailing hands brushed against the walls, coming away wet, cold and grimy. When he looked at his hands, which, unlike the corridor, the light revealed, they looked off. Discolored, but not just by the grime. The white fur was thinning and the skin beneath was darker and his nails were longer, sharper, like bony claws. He sucked in a breath of fetid air and felt it rush in over his lips, through his nostrils and the hole in his cheek.
Bile rose in his throat and his heart hammered. Hoofsteps sounded behind him and a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. Something bony scraped against the inside of his shoulderplate and then he felt a push.
The world spun. Again, his hands found clammy, slick stone, but now he was falling alongside them. Above him, he saw a a circle of stars and two dead pine trees, one cut cleanly through half-way from its top, then he hit the water at the bottom of the well.
The water was cold, heavy and tasted foul. He thrashed and kicked, managing to get his head above the black, scummy water, but only just barely. His limbs were already protesting, his armor was dragging him down and the water was rough, swirling around him and pulling at his limbs like something living and malicious.
He sunk beneath the surface and felt something bump into him, hard. He looked toward it and felt his blood freeze as he looked into small, pale faces, with gaping mouths beneath pointy, boil-covered noses and beady, dead eyes.
Something bubbled through the water, and his ears twitched, though he hardly registered the odd sound except for feeling the vaguest, warm recognition.
There were other faces. Fanged, blood-colored ones. An almost white-blue, tusked face that made his stomach twist. And a green, pock-marked one emerged to sneer at him before vanishing. All the while, he struggled to swim, swiftly weakening and failing to keep the putrid water out of his mouth. He saw straw-colored hair flowing ethereally in the gloom, pale eyes and teeth flashed in a rictus grin, as if in welcome, and then the strength left him and he descended into the foul blackness.
"Wake up, Cow!"
Maurus woke with a start, jerked into wakefulness when something stabbed painfully into the side of his muzzle. His eyes snapped open and he looked up into a fire-blackened, curved ceiling. He was no longer in choppy, fetid, dark water, but lay, heavy as stone, on a hard surface, yet he still felt like he was drowning. He choked on the blood in his mouth, feeling his gorge rising even as the blood ran down his throat and he coughed wetly, spraying spit and blood out through the holes in the front of his helmet. With effort, he rolled onto his side, provoking dozens of pounding aches to flare up along his battered limbs, and fumbled for the straps on his helmet.
His gasp drew more thick blood down his throat and he retched, thankfully expelling more of it and managing not to vomit inside his helmet. His fingers found and opened the left clasp on his helmet and before he could reach for the other one, he felt a slight pressure and then that too clicked open, allowing him to push it off. He barely noticed it ring out as it hit the floor, entirely occupied with hacking blood onto the stone beneath him.
Blood kept filling his mouth and with every retching cough, pain shot through his muzzle as fractured bone and mangled muscle was jostled by the motion.
When the coughing fit finally subsided, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, letting his head hang, his mouth open, allowing the trickling blood and drool to drip into the red stain beneath him. The bursts of wrenching pain faded, giving him attention to spare for the stinging and throbbing of the rest of his body, particularly the searing pain in his tail, but what most caught his attention was how wrong his muzzle felt. The lower part of his jaw felt loose and lopsided through the pain and his tongue felt thick and swollen, like he'd chewed on it.
"I can see through him. That's bad," said a reedy voice. Then it grew to a shout that hurt Maurus' ears: "Any free healers down there?"
"Get up," said a second, more melodious voice. There was a tight edge to the words and Maurus found himself obeying, pushing himself to his hooves despite his body's protest.
The effort left him woozy and for a moment he was about to slump over before he regained his balance. Glancing to the left, he found Widget and Arianna. Widget was standing at the edge of the platform, her gaze shifting back and forth between him and the floor below. Arianna stood right next to him, leaning on her staff, looking ragged and bloody. Her features were twisted in an expression of irritation that didn't quite reach her eyes, which were fixed on Maurus face. More specifically on his muzzle where he hurt most and felt most odd.
Mathias was leaning, almost pressing himself into the wall beside the dark doorway, looking into the floor with the blank gaze of a corpse.
"Bad, huh," Maurus said, or rather, attempted to say. Without the battlerage to distract him, he could hardly force his tongue to work and it felt like something tore and something scraped in his mouth as he mangled the words. Arianna looked at him for a moment, then spun on her heel.
"Keep your mouth shut and follow," she ordered tensely. Maurus frowned at her tone but bent to pick up his helmet, only to find Widget looking up at him with the helmet in her hands. Despite the pain, his mouth quirked in a smirk. The helmet was about the same size as her torso.
She answered with a slightly queasy-looking smile, then motioned with the helmet for him to get moving. He complied, glancing at Mathias as he did. He was about to say his name, but thought better of it and just waved for him to follow, but he didn't even seem to even notice.
Maurus reached out to put a hand on Mathias' shoulder, but before he could touch him, Arianna's voice snapped up from ahead: "Mathias! Move!"
Mathias shook himself before visibly forcing himself to shuffle forward and Maurus followed, giving his friend a pat on the back, almost regretting it when Mathias jerked his head around to look at him. But he violently pushed the disgust he felt at seeing Mathias' bloody mouth and teeth, focusing on his miserable eyes. He raised a hand to his own bloody mouth, before gesturing irreverently between the hole there and where the mail covered the wound in Mathias' throat.
Mathias blinked before his hunched posture unfurled just the slightest bit and his lips twitched.
"Hopefully we won't match for long," he muttered. His voice was morose, but there was the barest hint of mirth in the words, like he couldn't help himself and Maurus only refrained from smiling because he knew it would hurt.
He turned his gaze to the room as they descended the ramp. The inferno of the pit lord's death had burnt the fallen to coal-black lumps of flesh and heat-warped metal, which steamed and dripped sizzling fat. He could recognize the fel orcs by their lack of armor and the tauren were revealed by their size but the rest of the misshapen corpses were almost impossible to tell apart.
Not the pit lord though. The explosion had burned through most of its flesh and skin and its skeleton had collapsed inward to lie in a heap of blackened bone and thick charred flesh. Thigh-bones and ribs rose up towards the ceiling like grasping fingers and the skull had come down on the mound of ribs from the pit lord's upper body, making the corpse look like the stripped carcass of a monstrous whale.
Oddly, it was only now that he looked at the scorched corpses that he noticed the smell of the room again. The rancid scent of the demonic was interwoven with the overpowering smell of burned flesh and seared hair and the horrific sight and smell made his stomach roll with fresh nausea.
After the cacophony of the battle, the room was deafeningly quiet, silent except for the sound of hooves and boots, the sizzling of blood and fat, and the murmur of the healers that floated past the weary Horde soldiers in the gate opposite Maurus.
He paused to pick up his axe from where he'd dropped it and secured the weapon along his back, wincing as the motion pulled on his right shoulder. Pretending not to notice the wide berth Mathias gave the pile of dead there, he changed course for the middle of the room, spitting out a glob of blood.
"Don't you want a healer?" Arianna demanded. He glanced at her as he stepped over and around the burnt bodies, seeing that she'd turned around and was looking at him like he was a misbehaving child. He almost replied, but the twinge of pain as he began opening his mouth made him reconsider and he waved a hand in a vague gesture that made her look toward the ceiling in pure exasperation.
He stopped a little further ahead and knelt, taking hold of what felt like burnt parchment on first touch. With a sharp tug, he pulled the wing free from the corpse pinning it, relieved that it had been mostly shielded from the blast and that the dreadlord's flesh had been more resistant to the fire than he'd expected.
He rose, slinging the wing over his shoulder, and staggered, surprised at its weight and the sudden dizziness he felt. But then again, the wing was big, almost scraping along the floor behind him.
"Now will you listen to reason?" Arianna asked acidly. Maurus snorted, regretting it instantly as it jostled his mouth, and trudged after her.
Mathias looked at him for a moment and a bit more light crept into his eyes when realization set in. "One," Maurus thought and held up a hand, pointer finger extended.
"Limb from limb," Mathias said, sounding more like himself, as they passed the mostly uninjured Horde soldiers in the gate.
"Time and place for prizes. Priorities," Widget said, half-admonishing.
Maurus only just kept from snorting. "Funny words from a goblin. And last time I waited, I lost my trophy," he thought. He looked at Arianna's back, eyes alighting on the strands of blonde hair that had slipped out beneath the edge of her helmet and now clung to the golden collar of her robe. He felt a flash of joy in spite of everything. "Not all bad though."
The soldiers parted for them, several giving Maurus glances that spoke of either amazement or incredulity. Behind several rows of soldiers, the healers had set up and were hard at work on the wounded and for a moment, he was glad to see that the none of the wounds looked like they would be fatal, with that amount of healers. Then he realized that anyone who hadn't been able to move under their own power had perished behind him, and swallowed.
"Shayla," Arianna called as they made their way around the wounded to the side where the healers from Maurus' group were working, shielded from the hallway by the warriors. The orc looked up from the troll whose arm she'd just finished mending. The motion was sluggish, but her expression was as fierce as always, her dark eyes narrow. Arianna waved a hand in the direction of Maurus. "You have a new patient. Make sure he doesn't bleed out. I think he swallowed most."
Teeth showed behind Shayla's helmet, but the snarl died before it came out of her mouth when she noticed Maurus.
"You stupid brute," Shayla sighed.
"For once, we agree on something," Arianna muttered, speaking out loud the exact thought Maurus had had about the two.
"Move up," Shayla said over her shoulder and Tu'jan and Drim stepped back. "Sit!"
Maurus complied, forcing down a groan as his aching body protested the motion. Shayla's eyes briefly flicked to the wing he carried, a flash of interest appearing in her eyes, before she raised her hands and began murmuring the low, lilting chant of a healing spell.
He basked in the soothing feeling of the healing, closing his eyes as tendrils of magic made the pains evaporate like morning mist. Even though the healing simply seemed to make more room for him to notice more aches in his body, it was still heavenly to feel his flesh and bone mend.
When Shayla moved on to his shoulder, he worked his jaw carefully, feeling only a slight twinge, like he'd pulled something. He was still missing three teeth though and he couldn't stop himself from feeling at the odd spaces with his tongue.
Only then did he really notice the rest of the warriors he'd led. They looked as exhausted as he felt and Gor's friends looked too caught up in anger and grief to really pay attention to anything around them, but the rest looked pleased to see him and impressed too. He decided to count them lucky that they had only lost Gor since entering the dungeons, but could find little joy in it.
"Find a priest."
Maurus glanced to the side and saw Mathias scowl at Arianna, looking ready to argue her quiet order. His eyes found the ragged holes in Mathias' armor and despite not really being able to see the wounds, he doubted they were gone.
"Mathias," he admonished. "I don't see a reason to keep your new holes."
He gestured to the side, where he could see the purple robes of a forsaken priest. "Go."
Mathias drew in a breath, a very distinct motion for him, then sighed, rose and walked stiffly toward the priest.
Maurus looked back at Arianna, who'd sat down cross-legged a few feet behind him, looking pensive, and noticed the ragged and bloody folds of her robe along her legs.
"You might want to get that looked at," he said.
Arianna blinked before following his gaze. She lifted the hem of her robes, revealing her dirty, bloody but uninjured leg and shook her head. "Why do you think I didn't just hand you a stone?"
Maurus grunted in acknowledgement, winced as Shayla began healing his burned tail and frowned. "When did that happen anyway?"
"Hound got through," she said absently. A moment later, she added dryly: "You were busy protecting your eyes."
"You're running through clothes pretty quickly," he said tiredly.
"I can sew," she said. She glared briefly at the helmet in Widget's hands and her tone got a little harder as she added: "I could say the same for you and metal."
"Plenty of salvage to make up for it," Maurus said, then grimaced at how callous he sounded.
Arianna didn't answer and when he looked at her dark expression, he remained silent. He wasn't at all sure it had anything to do with his comment, but he had a feeling she'd rather be left alone for now. For his part, he was torn between wanting to sleep and wanting to distract himself and he made a decision when he noticed Widget. She was unusually quiet, simply sitting beside him, cradling the large helmet. He nudged her.
"Widget?" he asked.
She blinked rapidly and looked at him. "Unharmed. Unarmed too, that's a bother. I want my gun and my dynamite," she rambled. She blinked again and continued: "Good that you can talk again."
"Your explosives were well spent," he said quietly. "Sorry about your gun."
She shrugged. "I can make another when we get out. Like you said, plenty to work with. It might even be better, the fel iron is very interesting."
Maurus let himself be drawn into her rambling, only occasionally glancing Arianna, who remained somber and silent, like a lot of the others, both through the wait and the ascent through the corridors.
All talk seized when they reached the surface though. In exhausted quiet they laid their dead among the hundreds of corpses in the courtyard and passed the grim-faced grunts standing honor guard along the walls and they kept silent as they passed through the main gate, side by side with Alliance that no-one had the energy to even glare at. Looking along the walls, Maurus recalled the press of bodies just before he went up the ladder. Now the earth had been cratered by the impacts of many infernals and broken corpses were everywhere, so many that he had to watch his step to avoid tripping on the uneven ground or mangling the remains of a fallen ally. Deceptively innocuous piles of cracked, black rock stood out from the red dirt and the dead, lying in mounds or, in most cases, spread out along holes that looked to have been blasted out of the earth. More grunts stood watch over the battlefield, watching over the dead and over a hundred Horde were already at work separating the Horde dead from the fel orcs, piling the latter in preparation for pyres and carrying the former toward the camp. In the distance, to the south, the Alliance were doing much the same.
"Is it always like this?"
It took a moment for Maurus to recognize his own quiet voice. He doubted he'd ever sounded like that before. He couldn't even muster up anger, the only thing he felt was weariness and something black and empty in his gut.
Mathias snorted, a quiet sound and Maurus turned his head to him, frowning.
"When you win. Except for the infernals, this is the best we could have hoped for."
Maurus glanced at the devastation around them, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Except for starving them out like civilized people," Mathias said drily," this is as clean and honorable as it gets. No poisons, no sickness, no plague. No treason."
A part of Maurus scoffed at Mathias' comment, considering what the forsaken were known for, but then again, he was beginning to think Mathias wasn't of exactly the same mind as most of his fellows. That suspicion only added to the gnawing in his gut though, a feeling that made him avoid looking down at Widget, incidentally ensuring that he noticed the slight hitch in Arianna's step. For a few steps she sped up, seemingly eager to go someplace else, but then she slowed her pace again.
Maurus opened his mouth but managed no more than the first syllable of her name before she gave him a look that made him shut his mouth and look away. He wanted to say something, but he doubted he had the words. He was sure he'd glimpsed pain behind the glare.
When he looked left, he found Mathias' gaze far too thoughtful for his tastes. He could think of several lines of thought he'd rather not have Mathias follow. Hoping to distract his friend, he asked: "Seen many sieges?"
Mathias shrugged. "A few. I was a footman."
Maurus blinked, surprised at the easy admission and disturbed by the implications.
"Now you know my dark past," Mathias said, seemingly unconcerned, and gave Maurus an expectant, completely hollow grin. Despite the challenge though, Maurus shook his head and didn't answer. Mathias might not condemn him, but considering what Maurus knew about the blood elves, he was afraid Arianna would. Widget and the others around him almost certainly would too.
"I doubt it can be worse than the story I'm piecing together," Mathias said darkly.
Unwilling to answer Mathias' questions and reluctant to dredge up memories that were probably more bitter than Mathias let show, Maurus kept quiet and silently thanked the spirits that Arianna and Widget both seemed distracted for now.
The Horde camp was a welcome change from the devastation of the battlefield. A paradoxical mix of grief and merriment hung in the air, but the noise was almost like before the battle and the normalcy of it calmed Maurus. The rest of the unit trickled slowly away, returning to their tents throughout the camp untill Maurus, Arianna and Mathias peeled off from the group themselves. When they reached their own campsite, it seemed they were the last ones back and the place was already rife with activity, rowdy with noise, drink, gambling and cooking. Judging by the wild movements, far-away eyes and the bottles and sweet smoke-scents, their campmates were also well into forgetting the battle and Maurus felt a sudden urge to dunk his head in a barrel of wine and not come up till he fell over backwards.
He tightened his grip on the wing and reminded himself he had more important things to do before he could really cut loose.
The soldiers kept their distance to the Maurus and his friends' tents. Only Wiven sat there, working magic over a barrel. He greeted them with obnoxiously casual cheer, eyes bright and pleased, which was slightly unsettling, considering the apparent reason for his solitude. Right next to him were two corpses, so horribly burnt that they were little more than ragged piles of misshapen, charred flesh. The fire had burned so deep that Maurus could see bone and skull and still have no idea what race they had been.
"What happened?" Maurus asked slowly.
Wiven smile got a little broader, revealing white teeth. "The rats came out to play. I figure they thought now was a good time to make you all very thirsty." He waved a hand, wet with gathering moisture and looked at one corpse. "I like it here. So much easier to get good sparks."
Maurus followed Wiven's gaze and silently reminded himself to keep and eye on him and never get on his bad side. Wiven could have dealt with the assassins with a fraction of the power he'd evidently used, but had decided to use utterly excessive amounts of magic. Even Maurus could see that.
While Maurus had stopped to stare and talk to Wiven, Arianna had gone past him and ducked into her tent. She came out without her helmet and with her backpack and bent down to say something to Wiven, who rolled his eyes in response. Another few words made his grin fade and he rose, following her when she strode back with purposeful steps. Maurus turned as she passed him but before he could open his mouth she said over her shoulder: "Meeting. Stay and rest."
Maurus was of half a mind to argue, if nothing else because of her blunt tone, but exhaustion won out. Mathias wasn't.
"Elf," he said firmly. "Where-
Mathias fell silent when Arianna whirled and shoved her hand into her backpack, murmuring the now familiar, though still incomprehensible words.
"Still west," she said flatly. "Most likely further west than before."
As Mathias grunted and Arianna hurried off with Wiven, Maurus laid the wing on the ground and picked up the corpses. Bile rose in his throat as he realized that, except for the stink of burnt hair, the charred smell reminded him of food more than anything and he hurried to drop the bodies by the road.
Then he sat down next to Mathias who was already removing his armor with easy, almost unconscious motions, and copied him.
"Good to see someone isn't too important for clean up," Mathias muttered.
"I'd expected you-" Maurus began, only to clamp his mouth shut before he could finish the sentence with 'you to complain about wasting food.' "Take one," he finished instead.
Mathias looked at him for a moment. "You had it well in hand," he said blandly, tug on his breastplate. Ven'Zarul's blows had dented the plate and tangled the mail and Maurus thought he saw discomfort in Mathias' face and a hitch in the movement of his arm. He grabbed hold of Mathias' breastplate, gave it a sharp pull and the plate came loose.
They remained silent until their armor lay in two neat piles in front of them. Maurus pulled the wing into his lap, leaned back and dragged out his backpack from his tent.
"You're not the least bit curious about them?" Mathias asked. Maurus turned back to his looked up at his friend and his eyes fixed on the blood on Mathias' teeth and throat, not on the hand Mathias waved at the road. With a groan, he reached out, grabbing a clay cup from the ground and dipped it in the barrel, easily reaching over it with his large stature. He held it out to Mathias and got a questioning look.
"I don't want to look at that mess for longer than necessary," Maurus said, consciously making it come out in an irritated grumble.
"Isn't that a waste?" Mathias asked drily.
"Nobody bugged me about it," he said. He got filled another cup as he added: "If anyone complains, it's my ration."
Mathias took the cup and cleaned himself slowly. Maurus slowly drained his own cup and looked around for long ears, blue, green or pink. Seeing none within earshot, he took a deep breath, feeling his stomach coil into knots.
"You've been curious for a while," he began. Mathias looked at him, droplets of faintly stained water dripping from his face. He kept wiping the stained cloth along his throat and chin, but his full attention was on Maurus.
"You know the Venture Co. works in the Stonetalons?"
Mathias snorted and Maurus tilted his head in acknowledgement of how stupid the question had been. He swallowed and continued: "Me and a two friends were some of the many that tried to sabotage them. But they didn't slow down."
"Grimtotem," Mathias said and Maurus nodded.
"Sowa left. Came back with a load of flasks and said it would end it. I never knew who she got it from, but I could guess where it came from."
Mathias put down the cloth and laid his hands on his knees. His eyes betrayed a hint of understanding, but otherwise, he was completely impassive.
Maurus sighed. "It seemed fitting. They poisoned everything they didn't destroy. Disease is nature's most insidious killer." He hung his head in shame. "We threw it down their wells. You've seen how the goblins live, illness would spread like a wildfire. And we could easily mop up the rest. Then the land might recover."
He glanced up briefly. He couldn't quite decipher Mathias' expression, but he couldn't make himself look him in the eye for more than a moment. The decisions he'd made back then filled him with shame, but it was the aftermath that was the hardest to think back on.
"Neither of those happened," Mathias said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Maurus shook his head and said: "In the night, I dreamed. I saw festering wounds. Tainted rivers. Infected grain. Saw the wretched death disease brings, in filth and weakness."
Mathias' eyes widened a fraction, but that was all the reaction he showed.
"I dreamed once more on the way to Sun Rock Retreat. I knew what we were doing was a disgrace. There was no honor in it, neither for us nor them."
He shrugged uncomfortably and idly ran a hand along the wing.
"But I'm shamed to say I only made the decision when we ran into other travelers. There was a goblin with them. Never caught his name, but I'll never forget his face, because it made me realize that the Venture Co. isn't isolated. His presence pushed me to action."
His shoulder slumped and he looked down at his hands, clenched into fists on top of the wing. Speaking it out loud made it a hundred times worse, putting words to how catastrophic it could have been. His stomach was an empty hole and his eyes felt wet. He had to take a moment before he trusted his voice.
"It was lucky the Venture Co. had drawn attention. There's little love lost between them and the Earthen Ring and the Cenarion Circle but mention Scourge and they spring into action."
"Your friends didn't correct you? Or stop you?" Mathias asked.
Maurus shook his head. "I didn't tell them. Didn't think I could convince them. Just went straight to the shamans. Followed those that went on foot."
"Why?"
"Had to see what I had wrought. Help if I could." 'Die if I must,' he added silently. Unbidden, his mind conjured the image of the ramshackle barracks, the stench and the moans. The limp little bodies, like children or wizened elders and the single, deathly ill troll. There was no threat in them then and he'd cursed himself for it, despite his hate for what they did.
"It was contained. There weren't that many deaths. Twenty-six, from a crew of hundreds. There were far more that recovered, with the help of the casters. You met Sprack."
Maurus fell silent, still staring at his hands. He hadn't expected it, but he had hoped admitting it to someone would make him a little lighter or that Mathias would have something to say to ease his guilt. But his friend didn't speak and the guilt was as strong as it'd ever been, and now he also feared his friends condemnation.
"Sprack seemed to know," Mathias said casually.
Maurus still couldn't face Mathias. Instead, he shrugged and sighed. "I think he saw us wrecking something. Made a few assumptions."
"I thought you'd be dead."
Maurus swallowed thickly and felt a burst of old anger in the midst of his guilt. "Sowa and Tuga are. At least, they never left the mountains. I think he gave me the benefit of the doubt." As he did, he rubbed at his scarred nose.
"Beat you," Mathias said, leaving no doubt it wasn't a question.
Maurus couldn't hold back a wince. In truth, he didn't have much recollection of the days after Sprack and his buddies tracked him down, a third of the way to Honor's Stand. Starkest in his memory were fragments of pain and furious, hateful eyes. And a single vivid moment of being dragged, literally by the nose, along rocky ground on broken bones until tearing pain left him lying face-down in gravel with blood running from his nose.
With an effort of will, he raised his head. Mathias was still as only the dead could be. His chest didn't move, his hands had come to rest on his knees and his face was empty of expression. His pale eyes were piercing but Maurus forced himself to meet them.
"How bad?" Mathias asked after a long moment, unnervingly calm.
Maurus swallowed and wondered for a brief instant how he could word it best. Then he scolded himself for the thought and pointed to his nose. "Took this. Broke a lot of bones. Cut my braids. Well, my entire head."
Even now, the humiliation stung, in spite of all the other emotions the memory stirred up. He'd liked his adornments and even though he thought it fitting and practical that he no longer had them, he did miss them. That the loss had also served to further mark his separation from Sowa and Tuga was both saddening and a relief.
Mathias' brow furrowed. "But they took you to a healer?"
Maurus nodded. "I can never repay him."
Mathias studied him a moment more and it was only with effort that Maurus stopped himself from looking away. His heart was beating hard against his ribs and his mouth was dry.
"You haven't repaid Sprack?" Mathias asked.
Maurus snorted bitterly. "I don't think the scales tip in my favor."
Mathias nodded, a gesture that sent a stab into Maurus' gut. Then he gave Maurus a crooked smirk that did nothing to calm him and said: "I'm impressed with your honesty."
He rolled his shoulders. " I remember a lot of my life." His expression darkened. "I remember my death and what came after. I spread plague and killed my countrymen, brought the same hell on them that I lived. When I regained my senses, I gathered material for new plagues."
Maurus stared at him, feeling sickened by the revelation and a wave of pity rolled through him. Mathias, on the other hand, regained his crooked grin and continued: "Who knows? Maybe I had a hand in your work."
Maurus' jaw clenched. Despite the lack of condemnation, Mathias' deceptively light tone both baffled and angered him but he remained silent, finding he had no words and no right to speak even if he'd had any.
"I can't throw stones. And I haven't met anyone who willingly spread disease and later regretted it," Mathias said and the words were another punch in the gut. More teeth appeared, the grin turning a little sharper. "But the truth wasn't as bad as I imagined. And you're throwing yourself at the Legion now, so putting a blade through your throat would be stupid. And it would upset the elf."
Despite the harsh words, Maurus felt the worry fade and his guilt actually did ease a little. He was under no illusions that it would remain diminished, but for now he could push it away. Mathias looked up, looking thoughtful, and asked: "Does the snot stain know?"
"No," Maurus said. "You're the first soul I've told."
A smile, a real one, bright and without any edge for once, flitted like a shadow across Mathias' face. "I'm honored," he said, sounding entirely genuine. Then the smirk returned, though a hint of seriousness remained in his eyes. "I understand why you would tell me and not the elf though."
That made another burst of worry course through Maurus and all relief he'd felt drained away. He put a hand to his forehead and exhaled slowly. If he'd been nervous about telling Mathias, he was terrified of how Arianna might react. He was honestly surprised Mathias had taken the story with such calm. His reasons made sense, but in Maurus' experience, emotion most often weighed heavier than reason, it certainly often did for himself, and Mathias had to know that Maurus wouldn't abandon their shared mission even if he ended their friendship.
By contrast, Arianna had less of a stake in the death of Ven'Zarul and had plenty of reasons to hate any plague user, considering the Scourge's methods and the Fall of Quel'Thalas. If her main interest in Draenor was finding the rest of her people and fighting the Legion, she didn't need him or Mathias like they needed her. On the other hand, she was a warlock, appeared less concerned with honorable means than Maurus and seemed committed to their mission. And she actually liked Mathias, despite everything saying she shouldn't, so she didn't seem one for blind hatred. Finally if her suspicions matched Mathias', she was either surprisingly optimistic about the real story or more forgiving than Maurus had expected.
Still, despite his reasonable arguments, he couldn't shake the fear that she would leave if he told her and that made it feel like something gripped his stomach and squeezed. He'd worried about Mathias, but the worry about Arianna's reaction was far stronger because... His whirling thoughts abruptly stopped and he went over what he'd just thought again and his mind sped through the day. He remembered his realization that morning and the short while he'd thought her dead. The gratefulness he'd felt when he saw her alive and later, just after the battle underneath the Citadel. He blinked as he his again felt the bewilderment from that morning, before the battle stole his attention and the empty ache on the battlements. Then a warmth spread through him, chasing away the worst of his worry, and he snorted with wry amusement.
Mathias tilted his head and made an enquiring sound. Maurus shook his head, glanced toward the road and muttered: "This is all wrong."
Everything about it was ridiculous. Not since he'd heard the rumors about the Warchief and Proudmore or the disturbing slanders aimed at the Banshee Queen and her Majordomo had he heard of something so mismatched. True, he'd sat and howled drunkenly at more than one odd pairing stumbling upstairs, most of the more memorably ones in Ratchet, but he didn't recall anything lasting. Personally, he'd never really seen the appeal, except maybe because of the exotic aspect.
But now he found himself interested in a small, entirely too thin, almost hairless thing that he could probably snap like a twig if it wasn't for the fact that she would burn out his eyes before he had the chance. The thought made him smile strangely, even as he attached words to Arianna. Strong, unapologetic, loyal. The last one and a quick consideration of how she generally acted, was encouraging.
"All wrong," he repeated, his smile growing wider.
Mathias rolled his eyes. "All things considered," he said, "you're slow. As a turtle."
"You're very blunt," Maurus said amiably. There was still fear and worry, but oddly, it wasn't as unpleasant as before. Of all things, it reminded him mostly of the mixed terror and excitement he'd felt when he agreed to hunt down Ven'Zarul, even though the dangers and rewards were entirely different.
"Hesitating holds you back. Coddling others holds them back. I don't have patience for either," Mathias said as he rose. He studied Maurus for a moment and said: "Though pausing for food wouldn't hurt. Might wipe that expression off your face and neither of us will mock you for it too much."
Maurus fought down his smile and gave Mathias a level look.
"We can't have you ruining your trophies because you are too hungry to concentrate either," Mathias said, nodding at the wing draped across Maurus' legs.
"What about you?"
Mathias grinned and his eyes gained a glint of menace. "Already ate, remember? I'm going to get some new steel." His voice lowered a fraction. "Can't beat you bloody without it."
Maurus snorted. "Can't beat me bloody with it," he retorted, even though it was half a lie. They were pretty evenly matched in their spars, but Maurus did usually end up with more bruises. He chalked it up to Mathias' being quicker and being dead. Mathias didn't and now he just raised an eyebrow, then turned and left.
Maurus looked down at the wing he'd been meaning to begin working on half an hour ago, glanced up at the simmering pot a little way away and decided it could wait another hour. He put the wing into his tent, piling his possessions on top so it would make a racket if someone tried to run off with it, then rose and made his way over to the pot, feeling properly hungry for the first time since the morning.
I am absolutely mortified that this took so long. I will admit that university is, again, kicking my ass and that this chapter just wouldn't work, but I still don't think that is a sufficient excuse. And to add insult to injury, I'm not sure how good this chapter came out. But I think it ended up ok, though far from great. Let me know what you think and if I'm just dragging things out now. Any words, be it praise or advice, are welcome and most appreciated.