CHAPTER 1

Her father was shouting again, but at least this time he wasn't shouting at her. Idira shuffled further back into the shadow of the doorframe, pressing her back against the rough planking of the wall. Cold drafts of wind thick with the scent of brine and fish gusted through the cracks, breaching her thin homespun linen tunic. She looked down at her feet and noticed her bare toes stuck out past the edge of the door. She curled them in. Now she was safe and Papa wouldn't be able to see her. Idira could hear him panting, and knew he was preparing for the big part, when he hit somebody or broke something, or both. She wanted to close her eyes, but it was too dangerous, he might come in and she had to be ready to run.

"Ye call this dinner? This isn't fit fer pig slop!" Papa yelled, his loud, angry voice filling the house, flying away on the wind, all the way to the sea. A crash. His wooden bowl, coated with the dregs of Myra's potato soup flew past Idira and bounced off the bedroom wall. It tumbled back across the uneven floorboards and smacked, hard against Idira's shin. Pain exploded in her leg, blossoming out in harsh, jagged waves. She clenched her fists and bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. She could hear her older sister Myra crying.

"Oh stop yer blattin'," Papa snarled. "Ye need to toughen up, I'm educatin' ye, ye ingrate, preparin' ye for marriage. Westfall boyos like Benny don't like their wimmen weak-minded like them fools up Stormwind way. Ye think I don' see ye lookin' towards them city spires in the distance wit' a faraway look in yer eye—the city yer Papa spent years helpin' ta build? The city that betrayed him?" He made a nasty noise as he hawked up the phlegm in his throat. He spat it out onto the floor, and sniffed as he warmed to his favourite rant. "Lemme tell ye the facts. That city is full o' greedy, grasping bastards, not one good man among them. All these years me and the others spent rebuildin' it and making do, waitin' on them ta fulfill their promises for the money we were owed. Money they never intended to pay!" Myra cried out, sharp. "Ah shut it. A good hair tugging'll not hurt ye. Yer Mama, Light rest her soul, never needed disciplinin', she knew her purpose an allus kept her place, never once looked at them city lights. Not like ye and yer useless purple-eyed freak of a sister. Worthless, the both of ye."

Another crash, as he let her go, sending Myra flying past Idira's hiding spot. Her sister tumbled into the table, knocking over the stools as she struggled to keep her balance. She cried for real now. Wailing like a mama cat who had her babies taken away to be drowned.

"I'm sorry Papa," Myra sobbed, pathetic, desperate to appease him and make him stop. "I don' wanna disappoint ye. I wanna make ye proud like Mama did. I will be better, I promise. I won't never look at Stormwind again, I swear it."

Papa went real quiet, like he always did whenever he was winning. He sniffed again. "Well. Good. Ye better clean up this mess ye made. Just remember ye're sending your Papa to the labourers rally without any dinner tonight."

Over Myra's quiet sobs, Idira listened, her heart pounding, as her father moved around the outer room, collecting his things. She knew the routine, almost every night it was the same. First the dresser where he kept his papers, showing the enormous amount of money still owed to him being tucked into his pouch, then the familiar hiss of his daggers being pulled from their scabbards as he checked them, and finally the rasp of leather straps as he cinched his scabbards to his belt. The door opened, letting a sharp gust of sea air into the room, Idira's thin tunic flapped against her bare legs. She pressed her hands against it, holding it still, praying her father hadn't seen.

The door slammed shut, making the windows rattle. His heavy booted footsteps crossed the porch, down its rickety steps and crunched over the broken pieces of firewood that lay scattered around the chopping block.

Idira uncurled her toes, cramping from holding them in for so long. She leaned around the edge of the doorframe. Myra sat on one of the stools, staring at the mess on the wall. The soup dripped down the raw planks, blobs of potato still stuck to the rough surface. In the middle of the floor, a thick gob of slimy green phlegm lay in a puddle of saliva. Idira gagged and averted her eyes, hoping Myra wouldn't make her clean it up like last time.

Idira crept over to her sister, keeping the table between herself and the nasty puddle on the floor. Myra ignored her. She glared at the wall, her eyes bright with tears. Idira touched her sister's leg.

"Myra?"

Myra pushed Idira away. "Leave me alone."

Idira nodded and backed away. Myra was a lot older than her, thirteen years to be exact. Idira would be six in two months, and on the same day Myra would turn nineteen. Papa said if he didn't need Myra to take care of him, he would have already let her marry Benny Blaanco, a big, muscled Westfall boy from Moonbrook who had taken a shine to her pretty, blonde haired sister. Sometimes Benny came around with a fat wedge of Alterac Swiss and a bottle of Moonberry Juice. He was always nice to Idira, too. Benny talked a lot about Elwynn Forest, said he was saving up for a little farm of his own, that he would have enough soon and would need someone to share it with. Then he would look in a funny way at Myra and she would blush. While they weren't looking, Idira helped herself to a little extra cheese and wondered why adults acted so strange. Why they didn't just say what they meant?

Unlike Papa, Benny always seemed to have money, slipping a few silver pieces to Myra whenever her father wasn't looking so she could buy food, but Benny wouldn't ever say how he earned it. Maybe he had found treasure. It could happen. Sometimes it happened, Myra had said. Idira wished she could find treasure. She also wished she could go to Elwynn Forest, it sounded a lot nicer than the dried out husk of Westfall.

She pushed the door open and went out into the dusty yard. A few hens veered towards her, hoping for some food, but there was nothing to give them, as usual. They hung around for a while, making hopeful noises, then wandered off one by one to scratch at the dry earth, searching for any scraps they might have missed. Idira wandered around watching them, at a loss for something else to do. The evening sun hung low in the sky, and the wind blew through the yard in sudden, fierce gusts, carrying the stink of the sea up the side of Westfall Cliffs and into their little farm perched near its edge.

The sea's smell was stronger than usual. Idira turned and sniffed, hope blooming in her heart. The air was definitely stinkier. That meant it was raining out to sea and there would be crabs in the traps tomorrow. Idira rubbed her tummy, trying to ease her hunger pangs. There had only been one potato left in the pantry today, so Myra had given all the soup to Papa, because he had said tonight's rally was an important one and he would need all his strength.

Idira decided to walk down the cliff path to the beach and check the traps, to make sure they were still in place and undamaged. Papa had no interest in them, or in the farm he had inherited from Mama for that matter, so Myra and Idira did the work. As Papa liked to remind them, he was a mason, a builder of stone and not a common farmer. He wasn't an important mason, just a regular one, but he sure was proud of his skills. Maybe a little too proud. They still had to eat, Myra had muttered more than once behind his back.

Papa kept saying when he got the money he was owed, Myra could marry Benny, and then he would use the money to build himself a big stone house in the Redridge Mountains and afterwards he would spend the rest of his days hunting boars. He never said anything about taking Idira with him, she supposed Myra would have to take her with her, but then, maybe she wouldn't. Myra never seemed to have much time for Idira either, if the truth was told. Idira pressed her lips together, pushing down the familiar bite of loneliness. Nobody really seemed to care about her, all she was to Myra and Papa was a burden. She knew she wasn't making that part up, because she had overheard them talking about her late one night when they were out on the porch and she was supposed to be asleep.

As she neared the top of the cliff path, her thoughts brightened as she thought of Benny. He wouldn't leave her behind, all alone in Westfall. Benny was her friend, actually apart from Papa and Myra, Benny was the only other person she had ever met. No one except Benny ever came out to their place, it was too far off the beaten path, Myra said.

The last time he had visited, Benny had talked about reports at Sentinel Hill of murlocs moving north up the beach from the lighthouse, and something having to be done about them. He warned Myra to be careful, and not to go down to check the crab pots anymore. Idira didn't say anything, because she already knew about the murlocs, even though at the time of her discovery she didn't know what they were called.

She had been wandering around the rocks on the beach, looking for treasure when she had pushed through a thick patch of dune grasses and walked right into one of them. It was so bizarre looking, she had nearly died of shock. The poor creature, almost as tall as her looked pretty scared too, for a walking fish-head, that is. It stared at her with its huge fish eyes, first one eye, then it turned on its two legs and eyed her with its other. And then, incredibly, it talked. It said something totally incomprehensible. The creature sounded a lot like she would if she tried to talk with her mouth full of water, while gargling. She had just stared at it, astonished by the strangeness of it, until it ran off. If those creature were the big threat Benny had warned Myra about, it all seemed a big fuss for nothing. Idira didn't think there was any reason to stay away from the crab pots, just because of walking, talking fish-heads. She was hungry after all, and the murlocs seemed more afraid of her than she was of them. Sometimes, Idira thought people were a little too quick to kill things. Maybe the murlocs were just hungry, too.

Idira stopped halfway down the cliff and looked out over the empty beaches, littered with driftwood, and moss covered rocks. Sometimes when the tide was out she would find a pretty stone or a sea shell in the shallow rock pools. She liked to make necklaces out of her shells. Once she made one for Myra for her birthday, but the next day when Idira went out to the outhouse, she saw her gift laying half-buried in the midden heap. She decided to leave it there, even though she had used up all her best shells for Myra's gift. She didn't want Myra to know she knew, so she covered it up in case Myra came back and wondered if Idira had seen it. She didn't want Myra to feel bad.

Movement near the crab pots caught Idira's eye, the fish-head stood up, its body glistening as the water sluiced off it, clutching a crab in its hand. Idira's jaw dropped. Crabs already? They could eat tonight? Wait, that murloc was stealing their food. Driven by her hunger, she ran down the path, keeping one eye on the murloc, and the other on her footing. Her thoughts raced ahead. What if it had taken the only crab? She couldn't let it have it. They were her traps, after all.

She bolted across the beach, jumping over driftwood and splashing through the rock pools, straight at it. It was already tearing the crab apart, eating it. The crab wiggled, still alive, the murloc hadn't even had the decency to kill it first. It bit into the crab again, right through its shell. It had very large, sharp teeth. A lot of teeth. Something inside Idira warned her maybe she should slow down, and think about what she was doing, but it is eating my dinner another part of her yelled back. She ran at it, waving her arms, screaming with hunger and frustration.

It turned, its mouth full of crab innards, and snarled at her. It ran at her with its mouth open wide, making its strange noises, only this time it sounded very hostile. Idira stumbled to a halt. She had thought she could scare it away, like the ravens that sometimes picked on the farm cat, but she was wrong. That thing was going to kill her, tear her apart just like it had torn the crab apart. She stood, terrified, unable to move as the creature ran at her, all teeth and eyes, with slimy bits of crab insides dangling out of its jaw. A blur ran in front of her, and caught the murloc just as it was about collide with her, sending it tumbling into the grasses. They rolled down the beach, hitting bits of driftwood and bouncing off rocks. Idira backed up, panting. Another fish-head? Why would a fish-head help her?

She didn't stick around to figure it out. She turned and ran, as fast as her legs would carry her back up the cliff path. At the top, she looked back down and saw the two of them still fighting, tearing at each other with their teeth. They both looked the same so she couldn't tell if her fish-head was winning or losing. She hoped it would be okay. It had saved her life. She sat down and waited, she had to know who would win. Their fight went on, slowing as their injuries increased. The sun slid beneath the horizon, and their bodies melded with the shadows. Idira waited until she couldn't hear them anymore. It was over. She fretted, worrying for the one who had saved her.

The next morning she got up early. She slid out of the bed she shared with Myra, and tiptoed out into the main room. Myra had made up Papa's cot, but it hadn't been slept in. That was strange. Papa always came home. Even if he was a little scary, he never left them alone at night. Well it was morning now, and they were alright. She decided to worry about him later, her guilt over the fish-head had kept her awake half the night. She had to know who won. She slipped out of the house and made her way to the cliff path, just as the sun began to breach the horizon. She stopped at the top of the path. A pile of rocks stood in the middle of the path. That was new. She looked around, trying to figure out who had put it there, but as always, the windswept cliff-edge was barren of life. Even the vultures were still sleeping.

She edged closer to the pile, narrowing her eyes in the half-light. Perched on its top lay a sea shell, the prettiest one she had ever seen. She picked it up, admiring it. Pure white on the outside, its inside glowed a soft pink colour and twisted away into itself. It was as big as her hand. She smiled, delighted, doing a little jig. She looked around for Benny. It must have been Benny, who else could have done it?

Movement by the side of the path startled her. She waited, a little afraid. One of the fish-heads emerged from the long dune grass, holding something in its hands. She took a step back, frightened. It said something, a little gargle, soft, like a question. Was it her fish-head? She stepped closer, hoping with all her heart it was. It had cuts and gouges all over its fish-like body, but none of them looked serious. It held its funny three fingered hands up to her, holding a big crab, still moving. It set the crab on the path and took one of the rocks from the pile. It lifted the rock and slammed it down in exactly the right place, killing it. It looked up at her with one of its eyes and pointed at the crab, then her house, gurgled a little more, and then backed away, disappearing into the grass.

Idira crept forward and knelt to pick up the crab. It was heavy. Bigger than anything her crab pots could catch. Her sea shell wobbling on the top of the crab's back, she went home. The fish-head, no the murloc had brought her a crab. It was a little strange, but she was grateful. She set the crab on the table, and started the work of cleaning it. Myra would be happy, Idira smiled a little as she prised the meat from the shell, maybe her sister would be nice to her today when she saw what Idira had brought home. She wouldn't tell her about the murloc though. Idira was pretty sure Myra wouldn't believe her and anyway, she didn't want Benny to find out about her new friend. He might hurt it.

Later, as the crab meat simmered in the cooking pot filling the house with delicious smells, Idira idled on the porch, laying on her stomach, kicking her legs in the air. She held the sea shell to her ear listening to the magical sounds inside, thinking about her sudden murloc friend. A shout came from the distance. She looked up. His head hanging, her father limped, supported by Benny, across the barren fields. Benny called again, bellowing and gesturing at Idira to get Myra. Blood stains covered their torn clothes, and numerous cuts and bruises covered their faces and arms. Papa's face had blood all over it from a deep gash on the top of his head.

Her heart in her throat, Idira jumped up, calling for Myra, but her sister was already running out of the house wiping her hands on her apron. She made a strange choking sound and rushed down the steps, tripping over the hem of her skirts as she ran across the dusty field. Idira could hear her calling their names, over and over, panicking. She reached them and put herself under Papa's other arm, helping Benny to carry him.

Idira couldn't just stand there, staring, so she ran to get a bucket of water from the well. She could heat up some water, that would be helpful. She lugged the heavy bucket into the kitchen and ladled it into a big pot on the pot belly stove. A racket came from the porch as the others struggled to get Papa up the steps. Idira ran to the door, and held it open wide. Benny came in first, sideways, then Papa, and finally Myra. Idira blinked back tears, there was a lot of blood all over both of them. She hoped Benny wouldn't die.

"Benny are you okay?" she asked, her eyes widening at the deep cuts on his muscled arms.

"Aye, I'll be fine, don't ye be worrying about me. Let's get yer Papa sorted, he's taken the worst of it." He eased Papa onto the cot and began stripping him. Papa's belt and boots hit the floor with heavy thuds. Idira scrambled to move them out of the way.

Benny glanced at Myra and gave her a quick kiss. "Don't be fretting, love. Yer Pa's a tough man, he'll come through this. He took down a fair few o' them bastards before he fell. Mr VanCleef wants him to work for him now, high up like. Working for VanCleef means money ain't going to be a problem fer yer Pa anymore. Trust me, I know."

Idira stayed out of the way, waiting for the water to heat, listening as the two worked to get Papa ready to be washed.

"Orders are ye're going to move south, ta Moonbrook. VanCleef is sending some men round and a wagon so get yer things in order. It'll be tomorrow morning latest, the Stormwind guards are going to be coming this way soon, after what happened."

Move? Idira didn't want to move. What about the crab pots, and her murloc friend?

She stepped closer and tugged on Benny's torn sleeve. He turned.

"Why do we have to move? What happened?"

A sharp cuff smacked against the back of her head. Idira rubbed the sore spot, her eyes watering.

"Oh hush yer mouth Idira," Myra snapped, irritable. "Just do as yer told, and get some hot water for Papa."

"Oi! She's allowed to ask why, she is leavin' her home after all." Benny knelt down beside Idira and looked her right in the eyes. Benny never ever said anything mean about her purple eyes, not like Myra and Papa.

"The money what was owed to your Papa, well him and a lot of others found out last night they would never be paid, ever. So they went to Stormwind and there was some fighting with the nobles what wouldn't pay. The good queen Tiffin, she took our side, but she got hurt real bad, and died on the spot. And now, them bastards is blaming us Westfall boys for her death. We gotta gather up in one spot. Moonbrook is far enough away, and we can allus hide in the mines if need be, at least till we get organised."

He stood up. "And you mark my words, VanCleef is goin' ta get us organised." He smashed his fist into his palm. "One way or another Stormwind is goin' to pay."