14 - Be Gone!

It took me several long minutes to sufficiently calm down and land on one of the smaller turrets. Breathing as if it were my last, I ruffled my feathers repeatedly; I must have looked as though I was going into spasms. The toll of bells rang out across the city, startling flocks of birds which took to the wing and wove a dark rippling streak across the sky; a somewhat bizarre prognostication of my own funeral.

I had to focus, bring my thinking, logic and practicality back in line. Gradually, my breathing slowed and my heart steadied. So, at worst, Sarah had not found the journal, at best, she had just not reached the part with the instruction for Illidan. Either way, the world thought me dead.

I needed to find out if the book still lay within my study; if it did, I had to try and deduce how to bring it to Sarah's attention. Perhaps, as I had considered before, she had been unable to enter our home. If that was the case she would be staying with friends. Erik, maybe? With Gwen there it was a possibility, but still it didn't quite seem to be Sarah. I doubted very much she would stay at either the Felhammer nor Suramar with Illidan and Arcaena. My heart contracted as I thought of our son. Still so young, so new and now that his mother had to contend with grief, then it only made sense that she would be with person she had become so close to since her first time in Azeroth. Lukha.

I recalled how Sarah reacted when she spotted me at the Dark Portal, flying above the carnage. Now I realised she had so desperately wished the raven to be me, but at the time I could not fathom her distress. I tried to weigh up how she would react now if I appeared at the window or on a garden wall near her. Would it cause her anxiety? Alarm? Give her hope? Or, would she merely look at me like she would any other bird, or through me, as if I were a ghost.

I had to somehow reach her, make her recognize me. But how? Then I remembered Alarii and her book of sketches. Perhaps I could attempt the same tactics – but then again, the journal was securely bound, not loose pages like Alarii's sketch book.

Was it still in my study? Perhaps it indeed lay undiscovered, unread, still waiting for her to find it? I had no idea what to do if my fears were realised, but I needed to know the state of play at that moment. I took to the wing and soared above the keep. After a few circuits I finalised my path and then headed towards the district where our home was located. As I made my way, a woeful concoction of emotions and fears enveloped me – sadness, longing, cynicism, despair all at war with the practical, logical and mostly optimistic self that was once me. I tried my best to rationalise everything - to be encouraged, confident. But, when I settled on that window sill and saw the book through the glass still on my desk as I had left it, all hope abandoned me.

Next emotion was anger. Annoyance for not having been sensible enough to tell her what I may have to resort to and so lead her to the book. Extreme exacerbation that I was causing her more pain, completely unnecessarily. Frustration at not knowing how to effectively make her aware that I was alive - and aching to hold both her and our son. Utter rage over my stupidity gripped me. I was going to be attending my own funeral along with my beloved, our son, our friends and going by what I had heard on board the zeppelin an inordinate amount of people.

My caws were more like shrieks and as the fury built within me I felt my feathers prickling, almost sizzling as if infused with all of the elements. Then in an almighty screech I blasted the line of clay flowerpots along the edge of the balcony with a jet of frost and fire.

Instantly I stilled. With increasing despondency, I watched as Sarah's little array of summer blossoms curled inwards, crisped and dwindled before the pots themselves cracked and fell apart, spewing their contents over the balcony floor. My eyes followed the trail of sifting soil as it spread out, tiny bulbs and stems mixed within – destroyed, burnt. The finishing touch was the corner stone balustrade and spindle falling away into the courtyard below.

I heard it meet the cobbles with a dull thud and an angry voice shouted up. "Who's up there?" I flinched. All my angst suddenly left me. I recognised that voice. The sensation of building hysteria now bubbled deep within me. My mood shifted again giving way to a sliver of hope. "We're coming up, so whoever you are you better get out of there unless you're wanting trouble!"

Drew. Never was I so pleased to hear his voice, even if it was in a threatening tone. I alighted the railing and waited, staring inside the study window. It was somewhat strange to be stuck outside looking in while others entered my home. Oddly comforting too that it was people I trusted and not some vagabond thief, which was relatively common in Stormwind. On a day such as today, more such undesirables would no doubt see abundant opportunity in front of them, as the good people of Stormwind said their farewells to a man who was not even dead! I shuddered. My dire predicament left me confounded.

My attention snapped back to the present as I saw the door to the study open. Drew entered the room. To my profound relief I saw he was carrying Atiesh, my Guardian staff. The image of him recovering it from the Dark Portal flitted across my inner vision then melted away as I watched him lean the staff carefully against the wall nearest to the window.

Movement behind him drew my attention. A red haired woman was looking at my desk, lightly touching the documents scattered over it. Panic began to rise in me at the thought she may inadvertently cover the journal I had left there for Sarah to find. Quite why it worried me so now, seemed almost pointless.

I had not considered the likelihood of it having remained unseen this long by Sarah. Nor that the world of Azeroth would be in the throes of grieving for me. I had, very prematurely, assumed Sarah would just come home and find the book the first day. On reading it, I had envisioned her finding the note intended for Illidan who would cast the spell to bring me back. I would then be standing here as the man I was supposed to be instead of the raven I had become entrapped within.

But I had grossly miscalculated the emotions that would have gripped the woman I loved. I had not allowed for her own grief to have swallowed her whole. After all she had taught me, all the faith and love she had shown me, enabling me to express my own feelings without fear of rejection or ridicule, I should at least have been attuned to the pain of loss that she would have had to endure. I should have drawn from my own experience in Mardum when I thought she had died after she rescued Illidan - I was lost, wrecked, bereft of feeling.

Perhaps I believed she was stronger than I, more likely to maintain a practical head when life threw its brutal surprises in her path. Having come from an alien world, she had worked hard to be accepted by those who doubted her, pledging her fealty and demonstrating her devotion to Azeroth and her people. She had undergone changes to her person the likes of which few would have even survived let alone accepted. She had been party to some remarkable feats of heroism, working together with us all to defeat the enemies that would destroy all we held dear. I had lost sight that she was primarily a woman with a heart which could be broken, leaving her devoid of emotion and the ability to perhaps function normally.

My mind felt like it was being crushed with all these cerebrations. All the analysing, speculation, ruminations. Thrown into the mix of turbulent emotions, the entire situation had gone beyond dire. Things now lay on the borderline between desperation and desolation. The temptation to just fly away and leave all behind was unbelievably strong.

I was suddenly aware I was being watched. Looking up I met Drew's brown eyes. Caught unawares I remained stock still as he undid the latch on the windows and pushed them outwards. He stepped onto the balcony slowly, taking in the broken plant pots and their spilled contents. I saw a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. His gaze then locked on mine. "Boy, is Sarah going to be pissed!" he said quietly. "Don't know how you did it, but the lady of the house will be well annoyed with you."

I clicked my beak in response. Drew raised an eyebrow. I saw a ring-clustered hand come round his arm, then the red-haired woman appeared at his side. She looked at me also. "Would be nice if it were him, wouldn't it?" she whispered to Drew.

He sighed and clasped her hand. "Yes, I wish it was, for Sarah's sake and Ocel's."

I cawed at the mention of their names. He smiled wistfully. "She looks skyward every day, hoping he will come to her. But we know the truth, Bernie," he glanced back at the woman, patting her hand. Then he turned back to me. "He is gone. Now, leave here raven, for you will give her false hope when she comes home. Spare her anymore pain."

My heart constricted. Still I remained where I was. Now the need to stay was paramount. She still looked for me! Her hope had not died. I could not fly away, I could not leave her. Drew shot forward, stamping his foot as he did so. "Be gone!" he shouted. I was startled into flight. Rising up I circled the balcony. I saw Drew watching me as he bent down to pick up a piece of broken pottery.

Another voice came from within the house then I saw Erik stumble out onto the balcony. Drew pointed skyward. Erik's face turned up and I saw him scowl. Drew took aim and launched the pottery missile at me then bent down to collect another. I swiftly dodged in mid air and flew round to the other side of the balcony. "I said be gone!" he shouted at me. No! I was not going anywhere. I now knew Sarah still had hope and no matter how infinite it was, I had to stay and somehow ensure she knew it was not in vain.

Drew's second missile missed me as well. I was preparing to dodge a third when an excruciating pain erupted just beneath my left wing. I swooped a couple of times. Then I felt the air rushing past me as I plummeted down. The pain intensified when I crashed down through the apple tree in our garden.

I felt and heard something snap, near the top of my wing, again sharpening the pain. I landed on my back upon one of the broader limbs of the tree, the wind knocked out of me. My world was blurry, the leaves and branches merging into a misty concoction of greys, browns and greens.

My head flopped to the side and then I saw it. A broken arrow shaft protruding from the front of my scapula at the wing joint. I felt the wetness of blood on my chest, its coppery scent rising on the late spring breeze. As I felt consciousness slip from me, I inwardly smiled at the irony of it all. Sarah's friends had thought they were doing good warding off a creature which would serve a painful reminder of the man they all mourned, yet in doing so, they may well have his made death a reality, robbing Sarah a chance of happiness again.

If I somehow survived this, I was going to make sure Erik never forgot the day he nearly killed me. With that last almost amusing thought, blackness swallowed me whole.