13 - Masters and Pioneers
Dazed, with my heart still beating wildly, I slowly pulled in my wings, pushing myself up from the damp, vibrating soil. I had felt a moment of euphoria which was soon overshadowed by a tight, agonising ball of apprehension as I pondered my predicament. The fog covering my mind and vision lifted completely and with my view of things now being crystal clear, the disheartening possibility that 'all was indeed lost' settled over me.
I remembered everything now. I had planned ahead, but if my clues had not been discovered, which, considering my present condition looked to be the case, then I was doomed to remain in my raven form.
A loud grinding, whirring noise broke through the air. It was an engine. I looked up. Through the clouds and rain the nose of a horde zeppelin pierced the sky. From the insignia on the masts I could tell it was no ordinary zeppelin. The phoenix of Silvermoon symbolised it was transporting someone of high importance. I shook my head and tried to get my bearings. After a few moments as the enormous hull swept overhead, I figured out it was flying south. Perhaps it was making its way to Grom'gol in Stranglethorn, the only other horde zeppelin base after Undercity.
South was the direction I needed to go and as things were at that moment, I was weakened from my experience in the crater. I decided to make a bold move and hitch a ride. The craft had almost cleared the crater so I took flight and chased after it. As I closed in, the turbulence from the propellers buffeted me so I ascended until I was level with the top of the gondola. I was able to land without too much difficulty on the deck from that point.
I was merely given a glance from the deckhands that were going about their duties, but I was of no interest to them, I was after all, just a raven. I alighted the roof of the gondola which allowed me a better view of my transportation. The crew were primarily blood elf and a couple of orcs although it seemed the ones in charge of driving the craft were goblins their drawn out twang giving orders heard clearly above the engines.
Other voices drifted up from below, muffled at first but becoming clearer as three individuals ascended the stairs from below deck.
Long platinum hair, gathered up in a high knot, appeared first from the stairwell. From the stately burnished armour and regal gait of this individual it was not hard to guess who he was, even though I had only met the man briefly a few years earlier. His two advisers followed closely behind, confirming my conjecture; one a Grand Magister the other a Ranger General. Inwardly, I smiled. I had hitched a lift on Lor'themar Theron's royal zeppelin.
As I watched him strolling around the deck along with Grand Magister Rommath and Ranger General Halduron Brightwing, they muttered quietly amongst themselves, oblivious to my avain eyes. Now and again a deckhand would awkwardly dodge the three men, apologising profusely as he went about his business on board the transport. A mere dismissive gesture from the Regent Lord let them know they were not considered a nuisance nor should they apologise for doing their job. It was not long before the men returned to the top of the stairwell. There, they paused and looked south, the direction the zeppelin was travelling.
"It will be a stately affair," Rommath said, standing with his arms crossed.
The Regent Lord nodded soberly and muttered a deep acquiescence in his throat. I inched forward on top of the cabin roof, my curiosity once more getting the better of me. To what were they referring, I wondered.
"It will also be an historic occasion in that both Horde and Alliance will unite to show their respect to the man." Halduron added.
Lor'themar turned to face his companions. I noted how little he had changed in the years since I had first met him. Considering all that had happened to him since the Second War, it was quite astounding how young he still looked. His eyepatch served a constant reminder of the battle against the scourge and Arthas as they razed Silvermoon and her hamlets to the ground. Now he stood, still every bit the refined leader of the Sin'dorei. A role which, I had been led to believe, he had not favoured accepting, yet he had admirably administered the post, shouldering the burden and responsibilities that came with it and had been duly awarded the respect of his people. Some argued that he, not Sylvanas, should have been elected Warchief following Vol'jin's demise. I had to admit, the question had even crossed my own mind.
The Regent Lord took a deep breath before speaking with his advisers. "Yes. In life he was a great man. He will be sorely missed by ..." He toyed with his goatee. "Thousands, if not more. He has been instrumental in so many diplomatic missions and was also a great warrior, defending Azeroth and her people to the end."
It was obvious someone had died, it didn't take a genius to work that out, but who?
"And you are sure that the Alliance will not break this amnesty?" Halduron voiced quietly.
The look on Lor'themar's face was stern. "Amnesty?" He scoffed. "It was not I who turned our backs on them at the Broken Shore." His voice had an edge to it. There was a bitterness underneath and I could hazard a guess what lay at the root of it. He then sighed heavily, as if resigning himself to the way things had turned out. After a moment, he continued. "I believe they will keep their word, yes. This is too important and tragic to allow old feuds to flare and disrupt the proceedings. We shall however, leave immediately after the funeral rites are concluded."
Then they descended the stairs below deck again. I ruffled my feathers, quite miffed that I had not discovered to whom they were going to pay tribute. I could have of course, waded through my knowledge banks and attempted to deduce who it was, but that seemed a pointless task. By all accounts this zeppelin was not heading to the horde camp in Stranglethorn as I had first thought. Judging by the small conversation I had just overheard, someone very influential had passed and the Regent Lord was attending the funeral. A strong hunch told me it was being held in one of the major alliance cities. Somehow, I knew with certainty, which city it was. Stormwind.
The rain had reduced to mere spit spots, the clouds having thinned and separated. Sun rays spread out through the gloom, drying out the land below and turning the world gold. I flew to the port side and sat on the railing, contented, yet a little apprehensive in the knowledge that I was going home.
My memories were now fully restored and with them came a new fear. What if the faith my nearest and dearest once had in me , had lapsed during the days we had been apart? I had depended on Sarah finding the journal for she needed to know how I still felt about her. I also needed her to find the instruction near the end. Not only was I now worried that she might not have discovered the book, but another concern, and to be perfectly honest, a far greater one, was that the instruction would not be carried out by the one individual who I knew would be drawn to it and understand its significance. What if I had alienated him by my intolerable behaviour?
I had been so unlike myself in those final days, hours even, prior to the Void Lords' attack. Astutely aware that they could alter our thought processes and emotions, it still had not protected me from their influence. I had found the tiniest bit of criticism aimed at the Kirin Tor hugely offensive. Illidan had challenged our abilities to deal with the then pending threat of complete annihilation. Regrettably, my own doubts had fueled my irritation at the demon hunter; his connotations and alternative suggestions had gnawed at my nerves.
Even though I knew there was no threat to what Sarah and I shared, the bond which had formed between her and Illidan had irked me also. Extracting him from The Twisting Nether had cost her dearly. Then when he saved her life afterwards it had altered her in more ways than any of us had foreseen. The memory of my reaction when she had broken the news to me bore an agony like no other. Again, the Void Lords had made me unreasonable, unfeeling ... unreachable. Yet, when I spoke with her at the Dark Portal and she told me her greatest curse was to have loved me, somehow, it had pierced the negative shroud which the Lords of Shadow had enveloped me within – albeit for only a few short hours.
It had been enough for me to ensure I had left the necessary clues for returning me to human form for I had suspected that I would need to transform in order to survive the likely destruction of the Dark Portal. And I knew the consequences of shifting within a time portal too. Therefore, an ancient spell known as the Thalassian Secret, which some referred to with the phrase "All Is Not Lost", was imperative and with its foundations being steeped in elven history, I knew Illidan would be the one to aid me. I had found myself depending on that bond which had formed between the demon hunter and Sarah, the love of my life. For some bizarre reason, a strange thought passed through my mind; perhaps whoever had passed away was someone I should best pay my respects to in human form. Time however, would be a major factor in achieving that and I prayed that time was on our side.
My brain started to hurt as yet another sense of foreboding plagued it. I did not know what to expect when the spell was used. Foolishly, I had merely read about the Thalassian Secret and thought it was simply a case of informing Sarah and Illidan that it needed to be used to bring me back. But, I had absolutely no understanding of the spell itself. I knew many of the words and chants, but that simple knowledge was not enough to consider oneself capable of performing it. I had never attempted to use the spell, nor knew of anyone who had. Equally, I also had absolutely no idea if anyone who had been subjected to it, had actually survived. Would there be pain? Would it take long? How could they possibly know to cast the spell upon me in the first place, as opposed to just some other random raven?
A cool breeze ruffled my feathers and, dejected, I hung my head. Vrsadra had made a valid point indeed. We humans were, after all, mere novices in the art of magic. The elves were justifiably the true spell weavers, sorcerers, wizards whatever you wished to call them. Undeniably, they were the masters of arcane, whether it be used for good, or tempered with darker elements, they were also the unsurpassed pioneers in the use of prophylactic and cathartic magic.
An overwhelming appreciation and respect for the elven races washed over me. Having worked alongside many over the years, been suitably impressed and on many occasion grateful for their assistance, I had never actually stopped and given their assiduousness any true reflection. Now, as I sat on the railing of the zeppelin overlooking the world I loved so dearly, I realised I was but a privileged neophyte on Azeroth, still vastly ignorant of all her mysteries and blessings. I had studied hard, been as diligent as any knowledge-starved student could possibly be, yet for all I had gleaned much and become powerful in my own right, I paled in comparison to the elves. Suddenly, I felt very inadequate and completely dependent on my demon hunter friend. If indeed, he still considered me as such.
The zeppelin ascended as we approached mountains. Clouds still hung above the ranges but they were now light and airy, the precipitation having fallen and washed the rocky crags. A fine sheen reflected off the stone as the sun rays reached out over land. The halituous wisps parted opening the way as the enormous craft cleared the mountains.
My heart beat faster. A tall cathedral spire came into view, then the clean sand-coloured stone of the city's buildings greeted me. My avian eyes drank in the beauty that was Stormwind. Her majestic turrets, towers, rooftops, cobbled streets and stunning landscaped gardens opened before us. I noted a new statue had been erected in the recently restored gardens off Cathedral Square, its subject a closely guarded secret it seemed, hidden by a heavy tarpaulin.
The zeppelin started its descent, venturing above the city rooftops before turning slowly and heading back towards the keep. Atop the royal residence turrets, blue Alliance standards emblazoned with the head of a lion, were being buffeted in the breeze. On the uppermost balcony I could make out two figures looking up, hands shielding their eyes against the sun. King Varian and Prince Anduin. I felt happy at seeing them both and that they stood waiting to greet the visitors from the north. Off to their left was a built up platform on the central tower. This must have been specially constructed for the regal visitor from Quel'thalas to disembark.
As the craft came in to moor, Varian and Anduin, escorted by the Royal Guard, arrived at the base of the stairs to greet Lor'themar and his advisors.
Six Silvermoon City Guardians approached the gangplank first as the goblins ordered the moor-lines secured. Closely followed by his two advisors, The Regent Lord then stepped up from the cabin. His ponytail carried on the breeze as he strode confidently towards the Guardians.
My perpetual curiosity made me fly down to one of the low walls that edged the tower. I wanted to hear this momentous greeting.
Both regal figures met and each bowed graciously. "Welcome, Regent Lord," Varian said.
The blood elf towered above the king of Stormwind, as all elves did, but he did not take advantage of his hereditary gene. Instead, he inclined his head and spoke in a most soft and sincere tone. "I speak for all Sin'dorei when I humbly convey our most heartfelt condolences on the loss of such a meritorious and indeed kind individual."
Varian's breath noticeably hitched and he momentarily lowered his head.
I could feel my neck stretching in the two regal figures' direction. Who was it who had passed away? I had noticed there seemed to be much pomp and circumstance in the city as we arrived, so I knew it was someone of great importance indeed. But who?
"Thank you for your sentiment, Regent Lord."
Lor'themar shrugged, then with his hands behind his back he spoke again. "Please, call me Lor'themar."
Varian nodded compliance. "We shall dismiss with titles then Lor'themar, especially in light of present circumstances."
"That is fitting. If I may enquire, how is his family faring?"
Varian shifted from one foot to the other before answering. "I have not yet seen them, but my sources inform me that they are as well as can be expected. I did not realise you knew them." The king gestured for Lor'themar and his entourage to follow him inside. I hopped along the wall, trying to stay close enough to listen in on the conversation.
"I didn't," Lor'themar replied as he fell into step beside the king. "Although I met him a few years ago, albeit briefly and I found his conversation most stimulating. I have however, found out recently that they knew my sister."
This was news to me, I was not aware of the Regent Lord's family.
"Ah, I see. Forgive me, for I did not know you had a sister nor that they were acquainted."
I was not the only one who was ignorant of the Theron family then. From the side, I saw Lor'themar's mouth twitch. He sighed heavily. "They perhaps were unaware themselves, for she had been in the service of Illidan Stormrage."
I almost slipped from the wall. Had I heard correctly? His sister had turned demon hunter? My mind rushed through those we had been particularly conversant with, but only two came to mind.
"And what was your sister's name?" Varian asked.
"Tiene. Tiene Firefury. We were not blood related but her family were like my own."
Tiene? I drew to an abrupt halt.
"Sadly, she passed away a few months ago," Lor'themar concluded.
My mind was suddenly blasted with the image of Tiene and another blood elf at the Dark Portal. They were the two spirits Illidan and Sarah had brought forth from Drew and a red-haired woman. My blood started to run cold as my mind then formed another, very distressing line of thought. Varian, Anduin and their guests were almost at the door which led the way down from the tower. I started after them again, taking flight this time and hovering above their heads.
"Forgive me," Varian said. "I did not know."
"Thank you. We preferred privacy however, and so few actually knew."
Varian gestured to the door. I was starting to panic – my brain formulating all manner of things and I needed to know if the dread which was spreading through me was substantiated or irrational. My quandary was then answered when Varian next spoke. "I believe Sarah was very fond of Tiene. I do not know whether she herself is aware of her passing, but I shall not speak of it for now. I am sure you understand," Varian said. Lor'themar nodded. "It will be hard enough for her today, with the funeral for Khadgar."
My panicked cawing made the whole party glance up for a few moments. Then I watched, utterly distraught as they vanished through the doorway. My screeching and clicking continued as I swooped and dived in confusion. The words "Caagaw! Caagaw!" ran through my head, accompanied by the images of Sarah crying uncontrollably at the ruined portal. She had thought me dead when it collapsed. Sweet Elune! My earlier fear had just been authenticated. Sarah must not have found the journal after all, even though I had left it in plain sight. Had she perhaps, been unable to return to the house; too grief-stricken to step into our home? Was it still lying there, undiscovered on my desk? I had not prepared for that. Oh, my darling Sarah. A torrent of guilt rushed me, devoured me. I was still causing her pain.
My world crashed around me, for I could see no way of righting this wrong. After all, I was simply ... no more.