Arrentai
From Booty Bay we paid for the flight to Stormwind. It took us the best part of a week, stopping at flight points along the way to change mounts and to rest. I'd never seen the southern reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms before and I was interested in all I saw. As we approached the city from the south Stormwind looked no different apart from more guards around than usual.
Aralen led us from the gryphons' roost and down into the busy streets. He turned to his servant.
"I need to report in to the barracks. You head to my home and tell my wife I'll be bringing guests for dinner. Then you can get off home to your family and I'll see you in the morning."
Aralen watched the younger man hurry off towards the dwarven district then he turned to us.
"He's a good lad," he commented, "and he has the makings of a good soldier. Now, I'll head to the barracks; are you two coming with me?"
I glanced at Lizabetha and she shook her head.
"No," I said. "We'll meet you there later."
He nodded cheerfully and strode off whistling merrily.
"You don't mind, do you, Arrentai?" Lizabetha asked, "But if we're going to be away for some time we could really do with a few more things."
"No, of course not," I assured her.
We headed towards the shops of the trade district and fairly soon had found all we needed, spare clothes, personal supplies, all the things a traveller required, and bags to carry them in.
While in the trade district I took time to look at the notices posted on the hero's call board. There were all the usual requests for help in various places; the one that caught my eye was different. "Pandaria," it said in large letters, "a new opportunity for adventure and exploration". It went on to urge people to go there to fight against the Horde, to protect its native people, to establish a foothold for the Alliance. I knew next to nothing about Pandaria, but, I figured, there must be enough space there to keep from too much contact with the Horde while doing what I did best. It appealed to me. A new start in a new land. As Lizabetha came to my side I pointed it out to her. She read the poster and nodded.
"It sounds good," she agreed, "but it's so far away. Do you really want to be so far away from Taliesa?"
I shook my head; I didn't want to leave her for so long; I was missing so much of her childhood. But she was back in Darnassus, the ports were blockaded, how could I fetch her to be with us?
I walked away, deep in thought, as we headed for the Old Town. Our last port of call was the leatherworking shop there. There I purchased some prepared skins, threads and the tools I needed to repair my damaged armour. The borrowed army issue kit I was wearing was all very well, but it didn't fit like that which I had made myself, and it didn't have the same strengthening enchantments. Nor did it have the very essential enchantment that enabled it to change so that it still fitted when I shapeshifted.
All our purchases made we headed for the army's headquarters at the edge of the district. The guard at the gate recognised me and greeted me cheerfully.
"Are you here to see your brother?" he asked.
"No. is he here then?"
"I believe his platoon is due in any day," he answered.
That was good news, it would be good to see Gillaen and Nerissina, to be assured that they were safe after all that had happened.
"Let him know I'm here when he arrives. In the meantime we're to meet with Crusader Aralen Barleyleaf."
We were directed to the commander's office, a place I was becoming remarkably familiar with considering I wasn't even part of the military.
Aralen had made his report about the events in the Barrens and now I was asked to do the same. The commander was somewhat misbelieving about my encounter with Nerolie Trueblade. He could not believe that an orc would willingly show compassion to an enemy. Yet I was here; the living evidence of that.
"She was old enough to have come from Draenor," I said. "She said her mate died at Blackrock Spire; that was the end of the second war, wasn't it? And he had the blood curse, yet she did not. Her eyes were not red. Maybe that makes the difference."
"You could be right, lad," Aralen agreed. "I believe the orcs led a peaceful life on Draenor before the Burning Legion corrupted them. And if that was the life she remembered, the life she chose to live..."
He broke off but clearly we were thinking along similar lines. And if one orc had chosen freedom from the Burning Legion then maybe there were others who'd done likewise. Others who would be receptive to the idea of peace.
The commander had no patience to listen to our speculations. As far as he was concerned the only good orc was a dead one. We left the barracks and headed into the city. And as we walked we talked. I told Aralen about the poster I'd read.
As a member of the Argent Crusade Aralen was independent of the army and could go where he chose. He liked my idea of going to Pandaria, and told me what little he knew of the place. The continent had been lost in the mists of the southern oceans since the sundering of the world; but now the mists had parted to reveal its location. The Alliance (and presumably the Horde) was planning an expedition there; and volunteers were wanted to support the army. I wasn't interested in fighting but I'd willingly go as a healer; and take the opportunity while I was there to explore and learn about this new land.
We left the Old Town behind and headed into the Dwarven District. This part of the city was unlike any other area. It was crammed with forges and workshops constantly belching out smoke and fumes as craftsmen worked day and night making armour and weapons for the army. Here also were gnomes busy with their sometimes unreliable engineering and technology. It was common, Aralen told us, for the peace to be disturbed by explosions when their experiments went wrong.
Aralen's home was in a quieter area, near to the city walls. He led us inside and closed the door, shutting out the clamour of the streets.
"I'm home!" he called out and within moments a female dwarf appeared from the back of the house. A little shorter than Aralen, who himself barely reached my shoulder, with blonde hair tied in a single braid and twinkling blue eyes, she was enveloped in a large apron and bore a dusting of flour on her cheeks.
"Welcome," she said cheerfully. "Come along in and make yourselves comfortable."
Our companion strode forward, caught her in his arms, and kissed her affectionately. Laughing she freed herself.
"Aralen, I've put a bottle of wine in the parlour for you and your friends. Why don't you get them a drink and I'll join you as soon as dinner's in the oven."
"Yes, my dear," he replied meekly as she hurried away.
"Just leave your bags over there," he indicated, pointing to a corner, and dumping his own belongings. When we'd unburdened ourselves he led us into a cosy, fire lit parlour and settled us with glasses of good wine before disappearing to remove his armour. He returned a few minutes later, followed shortly by the young female whom he introduced to us as his wife Amarya.
"And where is our son and heir?" he asked.
"He's asleep; and don't you dare wake him," she replied.
It was a pleasant evening that we spent with Aralen and Amarya. Good food, fine wine and enjoyable company; it was a long time since we'd last known that. Not since our wedding, in fact; we lived a quiet life in Darnassus. We stayed the night with them; and I slept more soundly than I had for some time; able to relax, secure in the knowledge that we weren't at risk of attack.
I awoke early. Lizabetha was still asleep and so it seemed were our hosts. Quietly so as not to disturb anyone I left the house and went for a walk. Wanting peace I headed for the closest city gate and wandered down to the nearby lake. For some time I sat there in the pale dawn light, deep in thought, watching the gentle ripples on the water. All about me I was aware of the wild creatures that dwelt in the area; the nocturnal creatures seeking shelter after a night of foraging or hunting; and those who came out in the day beginning to waken and emerge from their dens and burrows. For a while it was easy to imagine myself in my old life back in Gilneas, before the Scourge took the best of our warriors, before the cataclysm destroyed the land, before the change forced on our people by the worgen curse. Life had been simple then. As the sun began to climb above the horizon I arose and headed back into the city. By now the household was up and busy. My wife, used to my early morning wanderings, wasn't worried by my absence and had reassured our hosts that it was something I did often.
I'd said nothing to Aralen the previous day, but he'd obviously noticed that I was troubled and while I was out he'd spoken to Lizabetha. He had a solution, he told me. There were several mages staying in town ready to join the expedition, and one was a friend of his. He felt sure that if he asked his friend would make a mage portal for me so that I could return to Darnassus to fetch Taliesa. The offer was irresistible; I couldn't turn it down. So after breakfast he went out to see his friend.
I couldn't believe my eyes when he returned. His friend was none other than Josstellan. I greeted the night elf with delight. It turned out that he and Maelinastra were also planning on going to Pandaria, not in an official capacity, but like us to explore.
Josstellan was more than happy to make us a portal. The three of us stepped out of it into the Temple of Elune.
"You go and get yourselves organised," he told us. "When you are ready I will be waiting here for you."
It didn't take us long. We returned to the temple complete with Taliesa and everything we thought we might need. Josstellan greeted us cheerfully and opened the portal back to Stormwind.
Taliesa was chattering cheerfully about all and anything as we walked out of the mage tower. Josstellan left us then to go and find Maelinastra. We headed towards the trade district. There was one more thing I'd realised we'd need. Mounts. Back in Darnassus I had little need for my own mount. Most of the time I simply shapeshifted to my druid travel or flight form. If I was taking Taliesa or bags I hired a nightsaber or hippogryph. I still owned my horse but Taliesa used it more than I did. I'd decided that gryphons would be best, both on the ground and in the air. The creatures were large enough that Taliesa would be able to ride with me.
We entered the gryphon roost and I spoke to the vendor, explaining what I needed. He showed me the beasts available. I looked at them carefully, judging their attributes. The one I preferred was ebon, dark blue-black plumage and brown body. I turned to Lizabetha, beckoning her forward to make a choice. She chose one that was pure white all over.
"What about me, Daddy?" Taliesa chimed in, as I was settling the payment. It took a sizeable chunk of my savings, but I figured they were worth it. Who knew what there would be in Pandaria?
"Not yet, Talli," I said. "You'll be riding with me. You get your own when you're older."
She pouted, but said no more. She knew when I meant what I was saying.
I walked over to my gryphon and rested a hand gently on it, allowing our minds to connect, for it to imprint on me. This way I would be able to summon it to me when I needed it. It took a certain kind of magic to do this, not everyone could. I was already attuned to nature so it came easily to me. Beside me I saw Lizabetha do the same.
Saddles and harness had been included in the price. I arranged with the flight master that our gryphons would stay at the roost until we needed them, Aralen had no room for them at his home.
A lot of people wanted to go to Pandaria. We would have to wait our turn for places on a transport. That was fine with me, it would give us time to spend with Gillaen when he arrived in Stormwind.
Taliesa was happy to be back with us and excited to be going to a new place. She was also captivated with Aralen and Amarya's son, four year old Hugo. He too would be going with us. Although Amarya was a warrior she wasn't going as a fighter so felt that he would be safe enough with her.
The army would be going first on our fastest ships and airships to establish a safe base and hopefully start friendly negotiations with the Pandaren.
We'd been in Stormwind a couple of weeks when I got word that Gillaen's platoon was arriving back from the northern reaches of the Eastern Kingdoms. They'd been fighting at several battlefields up there and had incurred some heavy losses, Aralen told me. It wasn't common knowledge but he had a way of getting hold of such information.
A few days later Gillaen and Nerissina visited us at Aralen's home. Both were quiet, subdued, bearing fresh injuries. Although they were obviously pleased to be back home, both of them, my brother especially seemed very troubled. I wasn't sure what I could do, but they needed something, I could tell. As they were leaving that night I spoke quietly to them.
"If you need to talk, I'm willing to listen, you know that. Just say."
Nerissina merely nodded and began to walk away. Gillaen looked at me and smiled sadly.
"I'd like that," he said. "I also need to go to the cathedral. Meet me there tomorrow morning?"
"Of course."
I watched him walk away and catch up with Nerissina, watched until they disappeared from sight before I went back inside.
I awoke early the next morning, left the house quietly and headed through the almost deserted streets to Cathedral Square. Gillaen had asked me to accompany him to the cathedral and I went willingly, always happy to support my brother when he needed me. He'd recently returned from yet another battlefield and I could tell that something was troubling him. He was waiting on the steps, dressed as always in his dark armour and hooded cloak. As I came to his side he turned and we walked inside, silently side by side. He walked towards the altar, ignoring as always the hostile glances of those who believed there was no place here for death knights.
I watched as he knelt in prayer, taking longer than he usually did. When at last he arose and walked towards me I could see his sorrow, the tears that dampened his cheeks. That wasn't like him, not how I remembered my big brother. He'd always been the tough one, even as a child; refusing to cry if he was hurt or getting some often well-deserved punishment.
"Do you want to talk?" I asked. He nodded.
We walked outside and sat on the steps, looking out across the square where as usual the children from the orphanage played. For some moments he was silent. I waited patiently; I knew he'd talk when he was ready.
"I've lost some good friends in recent battles," he said quietly.
"And I keep wondering, what was the point? What did they die for? I joined the army because I wanted to make a difference; to protect family, friends, home from the things that threatened them. To make it safe for them. But what have I achieved? What have any of us achieved? We're still at war. All that changes is the enemy. Will it ever end?"
"I can't answer that, no one can. But you have made a difference. You, your friends, the Alliance, even the Horde; you've protected this world from the demons that would have destroyed it. We are here now because of what you have done. Because you were willing to sacrifice yourselves to keep us safe."
"But how can I reconcile that with what I did as part of the Scourge? I swore an oath to serve the Light, and I turned against it, I became the very thing I'd sworn to destroy. How can you justify that?"
"Gillaen, that was not your fault; you had no choice. And you won your freedom from them; you are still trying to make right the wrongs; to help people, to repair the damage that was done. I know you don't talk about it; but other people do, and I get to hear what you've done. You have no reason to feel guilty."
He didn't answer, but sat there staring out across the square.
"Remember your friends, honour them for the sacrifice they made; but don't feel guilty because you are still here. They wouldn't want that. You've been given a second chance at life; maybe it's not the life you'd have chosen, but make the most of it. Live it for them, for us, for yourself."
He turned to look at me and I could see the awful sadness in his cold colourless eyes.
"Some days I feel as though it's all too much. That it would be easier to just give in to the darkness, to let it end."
For a moment I stared at him in stunned silence, horrified that he could even contemplate that.
I reached out my hand to rest it on his, feeling the chill of his pale skin.
"Don't give in, Gillaen. You're strong, you've come this far, you can get through this."
"Can I? I don't know. You have a lot more faith in me than I have these days."
He bowed his head, burying his face in his hands, remaining in that position for long moments. All I could do was wait and hope.
The square grew slowly lighter as the sun rose above the roofs of the encircling buildings, casting its light gradually across the ground until at last it touched us as we sat there. I did not expect Gillaen's reaction. He gave a single convulsive shudder and a low moan as if in pain. Then he shook his head and raised it to gaze into the light.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I don't mean to be so negative, but sometimes I find it so hard to see what is good about my life now."
"You're alive, you're free, and you have family who care about you. What more could you want?"
He turned to look at me again, his face expressionless. I had no idea what he was thinking.
Then he grinned.
"You're very wise, little brother. Thank you."
He rose to his feet, took one or two steps away, then turned back to me. The sun behind him shone through his tousled, wind-blown hair making it seem like a halo. I had to smile at the incongruity, even as a child my brother had never been remotely angelic.
"I need a drink," he said, totally putting an end to the illusion. "Coming? My treat."
Laughing, I jumped to my feet and followed him.
Note: Gillaen's reflections about war were written following the day of remembrance for the start of world war 1. I wondered how he would feel in a similar situation and so I wrote a short piece which I feel fits in nicely here.