WoW creative writing contest
Apr. 13th, 2009 12:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sophiaserpentiaBlizzard Entertainment is holding a creative writing contest, and the deadline for entries was tonight at midnight.
At 11:54 PM i submitted an edited version of an old story i wrote originally almost two years ago. I've put it behind the cut, in case anyone wants to read it.
Title: Sabraea Nightstar and the Tauren
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Characters: various of Bloodhoof Village; cameo of Thrall and Cairne
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 7,986
Warnings: violence, combat; memories of extreme hardship and forced servitude. No spoilers, since it was written just after the release of "The Burning Crusade."
Sabraea Nightstar and the Tauren
Sabraea Nightstar had been tasked with carrying messages from Orgrimmar to Thunder Bluff, which would be a long journey. She would have to traverse the entire distance by foot.
Durotar was hell, and she passionately hated the Barrens. It was hot during the day, cold at night; and the wind blew gritty dust which got caught under your armor and chafed. Along the entire journey she found little peace, between scorpions, hyaenas, and quilboars -- not to mention the menacing thunder lizards! Her rations ran out and she had to resort to eating strider meat, which was tough and gamey.
And here she saw many of these people with whom the Sindorei had become allied. First, the Orcs. Their Warchief Thrall had the brightness of intelligence in his eyes, but oh, how alone he must feel among so many lumbering brutes. Trolls were spooky and sinister, and found far too much mirth in the distress of others. Then there were the plodding Tauren, who seemed clever enough, but indolent, with just barely enough drive to do their tasks but no further ambition at all.
It felt as though an age had passed by the time she reached Mulgore. Here she no longer dreaded the breeze; it was temperate, a bit warmer than Quel'Thalas but sharing the same verdant meadowland. Even from the outskirts of Mulgore she could see her destination -- a city atop a cluster of mesas to the north.
Being able to see Thunder Bluff should have increased her concentration on the task at hand, but she found that the beauty of the land placed her in a kind of stupor. Her step slowed, and she found herself taking detours to examine unusual plants or just to sit by the side of a pond.
She matched pace with a Tauren traveling in the same direction. They exchanged a few words of greeting, but she was not feeling affable, and he seemed content to remain silent when they encountered each other on the way.
Sabraea hadn't made much progress to Thunder Bluff at all by the end of the second day. As she started to pitch her tent she scowled at herself for developing a Tauren's laziness.
Pulling the tent canvas from her pack, she heard rumbling growls, and the hair stood on the back of her neck. She turned to see at least five wolves around her in a semicircle. Her sword was just out of reach, and she hunched to dive for it. Before she could, the wolves were on her, knocking her over backwards. She felt searing pain in the calf of her right leg and her left arm. Pinned as she was, she could not cast Judgment or even turn away from the wolf who moved in to rip out her throat.
With a meaty thump and a loud shrieking howl, the wolf was gone! She heard a deep roar, and with a loud rush of wind another of the wolves was knocked away from her. A powerful stomp shook the ground, and the wolves were stunned. Sabraea looked up to see the source of the roar -- the Tauren who had been traveling the same road, bearing a warhammer that had to be bigger than she was. The remaining wolves ran off.
Sabraea was watching now as if floating ten feet above her body. She saw below her a bloody mess, an Elf woman with arms and legs strewn like a ragdoll, with ugly bruises and deep bloody bite marks. The Tauren set down his hammer and kneeled beside the Elf, telling her she would be all right and muttering in Orcish about blood loss.
Then darkness swept over her, and she was gone.
* * *
"Good morning, Elf. Are you awake?"
Sabraea's eyes focused on the face of a Tauren female with friendly, attentive eyes. "Where am I?"
"You're in Bloodhoof Village. Brave Cloudwalker brought you here, saying you had been beset by wolves."
"The last thing I remember, I was getting ready to pitch my tent." Sabraea started to sit up, but was overcome by a wave of nausea and vertigo. She groaned and lay back down. "What happened to me?"
"You were attacked by wolves. It took four days for your fever to break. Then we kept you--"
"Four days! How long has it been?"
"You've been here eight days. After your fever broke, we lit sweetweed incense you keep you asleep. The Greatmother felt that was more compassionate than watching you suffer as your wounds healed." She handed Sabraea a wooden cup. She was desperate for the water and gulped down a few sips before her stomach churned. "You should really only take small sips for now, Elf. Oh, my name is Cara. And yours? We are tired of calling you 'that Elf woman.'"
"Sabraea." Small sips. Good advice. She would remember that.
"Welcome, Sabraea. I wish we had met differently, but you are welcome just the same."
Cara stood as an older Tauren woman came in. "Hello, Sabraea. I am Greatmother Raincaller. I've been overseeing your care. Thank you for not dying, it would have harmed my reputation." Sabraea was stunned by this, but saw only mirth in the old woman's eyes. "I have to change your dressings, examine the stitches, and salve the wounds. This will hurt quite a bit, I'm afraid, but will get better over time."
Sabraea bore it all stoically, and fell asleep afterwards.
* * *
Sabraea woke to the smell of spices. Cara was beside her with a covered basket, which she opened to reveal pan-fried vegetable patties. Despite the nausea, she was ravenous. Her arms, what she could see of them outside the bandages, looked thinner than she'd seen them since... since... for a long time.
She ate, slowly.
"May I ask something?"
"Sure, Cara, what is it?"
"While you were feverish, you had horrible dreams. Or memories. You said over and over, 'Please don't make me do it.' I spent days wondering what it was you thought we were going to make you do."
Please don't make me do it. She'd been muttering that aloud. "Uh... must have been a dream, Cara; sorry, I don't remember. These are quite good. Much better than strider jerky."
They passed some time in silence. Sabraea dozed for a bit.
"Cara?"
"Yes, Sabraea?"
"I've put you to quite some trouble. I have some coin, I hope it will be enough to repay you--"
"No! Never mind that, Elf. This is my task, I am apprenticed to the Greatmother."
"Who pays you, then? For the work you've done on my behalf?"
"Pays me? Why should I care about that? It is an insult to the sacredness of your life to put a coin value on your care. My needs are met, I desire nothing more. The Earth Mother takes care of us, and we heed her wishes. If you wish to take a more pragmatic view, we see your health as an investment in the future. The Sindorei are our allies and you will take good tidings of us back to Silvermoon City. Also, it is helpful to the village to have experienced healers."
Cara stood and took away the empty basket. "By the way, Zarlman Two-Moons wanted to speak with you when you were well enough. Shall I tell him it is okay to visit you now?"
Sabraea sat up, slowly. "Yes."
Cara nodded and went out. A few moments later, Zarlman Two-Moons entered. He was so large, he had to duck to come in the small door to her tent. "It is good to see you well, Elf. We had worried you would not live."
Sabraea wondered why they should care. Few Sindorei would have. No one in Silvermoon City would even really notice her absence if she had. Just another dead orphaned Elf.
"Two days before Brave Cloudwalker brought you here, I foresaw your arrival while travelling in the Spirit Vision. A person would come to us who is broken in body and even more broken in spirit. Sabraea, you have a destiny here. When you are ready, I hope you will come to see me about performing a Rite of Vision."
She said nothing, but she certainly did not plan to take part in any primitive rites. She'd had quite enough of Tauren mystical mumbo-jumbo over the last few days. While she was grateful to them for their care, she felt that asking her to become involved with this was going just a little too far.
* * *
That night, memories troubled her. The Scourge of Quel'Thalas; the adults assembling with weapons and leaving for battle, never to return; hiding atop Sungraze Peak as the Undead ravaged Suncrown Village; finding her parents and sister and brothers dead in the burned-out husk of their family home; wandering lost and hungry for weeks in the ruins, learning to evade the crypt fiends; her beloved woods blackened and haunted, filling with strange and deformed fel creatures. And then Kardaeris found her. She remembered Kardaeris smiling... Kardaeris giving her food and a warm place to sleep... Kardaeris angry, Kardaeris grabbing her, Kardaeris demanding--
"Cara!" she sobbed. "Cara, come quickly, please! I need your help."
Cara appeared just a few seconds later, in her sleeping gown. "What is it, Sabraea? Are you in pain?"
"...Yes. I'm having trouble sleeping. You mentioned there was some sort of incense that could help me sleep?"
"Sweetweed. I will bring some, just a moment."
When Cara returned she brought with her a smoking incense burner. Sweet fumes soon filled her tent and soothed her into a bucolic calm. Sleep came...
* * *
Sabraea dreamed.
Her mother was calling her name. Sabraea went where she heard the voice, but her mother was not there. She heard her name being called again, more insistently. Sabraea again went to where she heard the voice coming from, but again did not find her mother. This time as her name was called, her mother's voice was frantic, and Sabraea ran, hoping this way she could arrive before her mother disappeared. But again, she was gone.
* * *
"Sabraea, do want me to help you walk to the Tribal Fire? There you can pray to Elune if you want."
Her face wrinkled. "Why would i want to do that?"
"Well, i thought--"
"You're thinking of the Night Elves, Cara. We Blood Elves don't worship Elune."
Cara looked disappointed. "I see. I apologize for upsetting you. I was hoping maybe to learn more about Elune, what little I know reminds me of the Earth Mother and I wanted to know more."
"You like to know about religions?"
"Yes! I can tell you anything you'd like to know about the Elawa, the Old Gods, even the Dwarven Makers. Gavin Runetotem taught me a lot about the Emerald Dream, I could share that with you! So... if you don't worship Elune, who do you worship?"
Sabraea thought about this a long time. "I don't know, Cara. I haven't attended any rites or services since the Scourge came." There seems little point to worship, she thought, when you have a god trapped in a basement. But she was under oath not to mention it.
Cara looked concerned. "Sabraea, your people need ritual and worship now more than ever! Before they lose their way for good."
Sabraea thought of her dream, running after her mother's voice again and again, and never finding her. "Cara... would you tell Zarlman i will do his Rite of Vision as soon as i am well enough?"
* * *
Sabraea could now wander a few feet, on crutches or with assistance. More than that and she started to get dizzy, and her leg would hurt. But she insisted on going ahead with the rite.
At dusk, Cara dressed her in a discarded hand-sewn child's robe (it was all that would fit) and assisted her on the walk to the Tribal Fire. There, she helped her to sit on a log and left her to wait for Zarlman Two-Moons alone.
Zarlman approached as the moon rose, bearing a skin full of water. He bade her to drink, and after she quenched her thirst, he drank and set the empty bladder on the ground.
"I'm glad you chose to accept my invitation, Sabraea. The Rite of Vision is an honored tradition among my people. We do not often invite others to participate; we only do so under the most unusual or dire of circumstances. So I feel I need to give you a full explanation.
"I know you think we are quaint, but you should know that we have chosen to retain the ways of our ancestors because we respect their wisdom, and because we need naught but the guidance of the Earth Mother. We are clever enough to build machines like the Gnomes and Goblins; we are also clever enough to see what their ingenuity has wrought. The Gnomes are now exiles from their own homes, thanks to their misuse of their own technology; and the Goblins... can you think of a more spiritually bereft people? We have gone to war with the Dwarves many times because of their disrespect for the land and the balance of nature.
"The Elves have done their share of damage to this world. When it was announced that the Warchief and our High Chieftain had accepted the proposal by Lady Sylvanas Windrunner that we ally with the Blood Elves, I and many other Tauren who converse with the spirit world knew that a great opportunity had arisen. We conferred at great length on what to do about your people's addiction to magic.
"We also know -- and you don't have to say anything to this -- that Prince Sunstrider and the Order of Blood Knights have undertaken some powerful project. We don't know what it is, we only know what ripples it causes in the world. We are concerned -- nay, we are frightened of what it could mean.
"Sabraea, you may not want to believe this, but I am convinced that the Earth Mother chose you to be an emissary between our peoples. She brought it about that you would have no choice but to remain in our company for some time, and would learn about our ways and our wisdoms."
Sabraea stood. "I agreed to perform your rite, but no more than that!"
"Please, sit. You will not be compelled to do anything." This surprised her enough that she sat down. "This rite will hopefully confirm or deny my suspicion. If I am wrong, then when you are well enough to travel we will see you off with a fond farewell."
"And if you're right?"
"If I'm right, then you will know what to do. I will give you whatever instruction you may request, or refer you to others if your needs are beyond my knowledge."
Sabraea nodded. "So, how does the rite go? When do we begin?"
Zarlman laughed. "It began when we drank the sacred Water of the Seers. The vision will begin soon."
Zarlman threw a handful of ground leaves into the Tribal Fire and they were consumed with a flare and a pungent cloud of smoke. "Sweetweed calms the body and mind, but this bitterweed will focus your mind and bring clarity to understanding. Soon your guide will come, and you must go where it leads."
* * *
Sabraea saw movement in the darkness behind the flames. A large animal slowly padded its way towards them. Sabraea started when she saw it was a cougar, calmly stalking into the light and coming around the fire, to stop and stare at her.
"Ah!" exclaimed Zarlman. "Very interesting. Usually the spirit guide is a wolf. But not surprising that for a Blood Elf we would see a cat instead. Well? What are you waiting for? Stand and follow where it goes."
Sabraea stood, and felt no pain in her legs. The cougar turned and ran. Sabraea did nothing for a second, but the cougar was picking up speed and would soon be entirely out of sight. She started to run after it, fearing this would be futile, but was pleased to find that not only was it painless, but she could run swiftly with no effort.
She matched pace with the cougar, and it picked up speed again, running across the bridge that north led out of the village, then running off the path into the forest. It sped up yet again, and now the two of them were running past trees, meadows, rocks, small copses and large groves, turning gradually to face the mountains in the west. They passed over great distances, surely they'd bounded over a day's journey or more in the span of a few moments. The way became steeper, but running remained effortless. Sabraea shouted with glee from the sheer joy of running so swiftly.
The forest gave way to rocky grassland, and the cougar slowed. There were a million traps for ankles and feet here -- but Sabraea leapt from one sound footing to the next as if she had been traipsing through rocks all her life.
In the cliff wall ahead she saw a cave. The cougar stopped at the entrance and turned to watch her, intending that she should go within. As she neared the cave entrance, the cougar turned away and, within a few steps, had somehow faded out of sight.
"Wait! Come back! I don't know how to get back to Bloodhoof Village!" She sighed. "Great." She turned to the cave. She could sleep here, and worry about getting back over the treacherous rocks and finding her way through the forest in the morning.
The cave was dark, but from the back came a faint blue glow. Slowly, finding her way by touch, she went to the back of the cave, where she found a small pool of glowing water... no, not water... magic! This was either a natural moonwell or a pool of pure mana. Manic with need, she reached in to scoop out a generous handful--
And with a flash she was young again, in her family's home in Suncrown Village. She was saying to her mother, "And Kelaia says he wants to be Pathstalker when he grows up. I think I would like to be a priestess."
Her mother laughed, a practiced laugh, a simulacrum of warmth and mirth. "But of course you are going to be a Ranger, darling-cakes, just as I am a Ranger, and my mother was before me. It is the destiny of every Nightstar firstdaughter to become a Ranger."
Another flash, and she was sobbing, a bow on the ground before her where she had hurled it in her frustration. Behind her, she could hear the voice of her instructor. "Ms. Nightstar, I am very sorry to say it, but Sabraea is the most singularly inept pupil I have ever taught. Perhaps you should buy her a hammer instead and see if she is any good at hitting things." His voice lowered. "I'm not certain she has her heart in this."
"Don't be ridiculous," came her mother's voice. "This is what Sabraea wants. I can't disappoint my little darling-cakes. The lessons will continue."
Another flash, and she was standing before a cracked mirror, applying red dye to her lips. Magister Kardaeris came into the room behind her without knocking. "Ah, good, Sabraea. You are looking lovely this evening. I have a very special treat in store for you. Magister Eaglefury is one of the most important men in Silvermoon City, playing a particularly important role in the reconstruction of our city and the re-ascendancy of our people. Meeting him is a great honor."
He drew close behind her, and she continued looking forward into the mirror, not meeting even his reflection. "Sabraea, the last gentleman to whom I introduced you said he felt you weren't supplicant enough. I strongly recommend that you examine your attitude. It would be a shame, a waste even, for you to have come this far only to find yourself right where I found you, scrabbling for crumbs in the ruins."
Another flash, and she was on Sunstrider Isle, warm from the sun. Standing to her left were four other girls, like her apprehensive and uncertain. It was unclear whether or not they were going to face prosecution. Blood Knight Noellene and Blood Knight Sunstriker, imposing in full plate-mail armor, came to speak with them. Noellene greeted them. "Sinu a'manore."
Jesthenis Sunstriker said, "We have conferred with Regent Lord Theron himself on your behalf. He is not without compassion, and understands that in the months following the invasion of the Scourge many of us were driven to acts of desperation." He lowered his voice. "And frankly, the entire court is eager to put this whole embarrasing matter behind us. Magister Kardaeris has agreed to... go away somewhere, probably to the ruins of Draenor. Let me add that there are some in court who want to ensure beyond doubt that you will remain silent." He paused to let the meaning of this sink in. "But we don't expect any of them to try anything sinister, as there is already enough wariness among the Magisters towards the Blood Knights as it is."
Noellene said, "We proposed to Lord Theron that we would see to it personally that this situation resolved to everyone's benefit. The Order greatly needs recruits. You five greatly need reputable employment. Assuming you are of age -- you are of age, right? the records were destroyed during the invasion -- we feel there would be no more fitting demonstration of your gratitude towards the Order for removing you from illicit servitude, than to accept our invitation to serve as recruits."
Another flash, and she was standing at attention in front of a great crowd in the Court of the Sun. On every side of her were recruits, some wearing new chain mail, others like her wearing second-hand armor. The Order did not yet have the funds to provide new armor for everyone. Behind her boomed the powerful voice of Lady Liadrin, the Blood Knight Matriarch, addressing the rally in the court below.
"These recruits demonstrate the hope of our bright future before us. I have looked into their eyes and know I can expect each and every one of them to demonstrate excellence in the performance of their duties. Our long night is over, the darkness has passed... the Light has returned to Quel'Thalas!"
The crowd cheered, and took up a chant. "Hail to Prince Sunstrider! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!" She could feel excitement welling within her. The darkness of the past few years was indeed over, and she was proud to play a role in the rebuilding of Elven might.
Another flash, and she was sitting before the Tribal Fire in Bloodhoof Village. Zarlman was speaking. "I am convinced that the Earth Mother chose you to be an emissary between our peoples. She brought it about that you would have no choice but to remain in our company for some time, and would learn about our ways and our wisdoms."
Sabraea saw movement in the darkness behind the flames. The cougar padded towards them, stood in front of Sabraea for a moment, and after giving her a meaningful glance turned and slowly walked back into the darkness.
They sat still for a few moments, the crackling of the flames the only sound. The fire, a bit dimmer now, was holding off less of the night's chill than before. Sabraea blinked. The pain had returned to her wounds and she was feeling tired now. "Was... was that it?"
"Yes. Tell me what you saw."
"A few memories." She told him most of them.
"Ah, the spirit showed you your past. One person after another has foisted their expectations upon you, never giving you the chance to find out who you really are, what you feel you are meant to be and do. And I have only done the same." He stood. "Well, I have not often been wrong, Sabraea, but it has happened before."
"Zarlman? What did you see?"
"I saw the future. The very near future. You must excuse me, there is a lot I must do before retiring. I will send Cara to help you back to your tent."
* * *
"Cara! What is all that commotion?"
Cara came in with another basket full of vegetable patties. "There has been a lot of activity this morning. Zarlman Two-Moons, Skorn Whitecloud, and Maur Raincaller gathered up all the children and offered to take them to the Darkmoon Faire! Well as you might imagine some of the parents were a bit scandalized by this idea, but Zarlman promised that they could keep the children from the seedier parts of the Faire. So the parents relented, and off they went! It should be quite an adventure for some of them.
"Meanwhile, Father and Harutt Thunderhorn told all of the irregulars to assemble for surprise drills! There hasn't been a drill in quite a while, so they were slow, and half of them didn't even know where their weapons were! That shouting you hear is Father dressing them all down right now."
"Cara... whose idea was it to hold a drill today?"
"I heard it was suggested by Zarlman Two-Moons before he left for the Faire."
Sabraea sat up. "Cara, where is my sword? My armor?"
"Your stuff is in my tent. Why? You're not going to join the drill, are you?" She laughed, good-naturedly, but stopped upon seeing Sabraea's seriousness. "I will bring it to you."
"Thank you."
Cara gave her a worried glance before leaving the tent. Sabraea ate the patties Cara had brought her, and after receiving her armor and sword she began dressing.
As she finished she heard commotion outside. Grabbing her sword, she limped out of the tent to see what it was.
At the center of the village, around the totem pole, a number of men and women had gathered, bearing various weapons or farming implements and wearing makeshift armor. Their attention turned to a ghostlike wolf, who was running towards them at full bore. It skid to a stop in the dust, and with a soft clap and misty cloud it stood and transformed into a Tauren, gasping for breath.
The Tauren who had been speaking to the crowd -- the village chief, Baine Bloodhoof -- addressed him. "Greycloud! You look as though you've seen the Old Ones. What--"
"No time! Must gather children and flee. Centaurs. A legion. Warlord Krom'zar, Barak, Verog, Hezrul. Camp Taurajo sacked, burned to the ground. They are coming here at full gallop. I ran the whole way..."
Bloodhoof looked around. "Take the... no, the children are already gone." Understanding dawned. "We will not flee. Zarlman and the other elders have gone to bring Braves and Watchers from Thunder Bluff. We need only hold off the Centaurs until they arrive. Cara! See that Greycloud is refreshed. The rest of you, erect what barriers you can. We need a wall of pikes on the eastern side of the village." He turned to Greycloud. "How long do we have?"
"Until midday at best, chief."
The chief was silent a moment. Then he bellowed, "You heard him! Get to work!" Some of the irregulars and village Braves began carving pikes from wood stores and others chopped trees. Bloodhoof turned to Greycloud. "Thank you. You may have bought us enough time to survive this. But to my great shame we are too vulnerable."
"You are not to blame, chief. The Horde is responsible for the defense of Mulgore, and even its forces could not muster quickly enough."
Sabraea caught Bloodhoof's eye. "How well do you fare, Elf?"
"Anu belore dela'na," she said, lifting her sword in salute. She meant it as a show of strength, but holding up the weight of the sword made her head swim, and she stumbled.
"Not well enough to fight. You must stay out of sight."
"My place is on the line."
"No. You will endanger yourself and others."
Sabraea muttered. Curse her injuries! "I can wield the Holy energies of the Light and bolster your Braves as they fight."
Bloodhoof considered this, and then nodded. "We might need such assistance." He came over, and spoke to her where no one else can hear. "My father's army will not arrive quickly enough. It will be at least two days. At first I was angry at Zarlman for not telling me what he knew... but this way, at least the children will live. If we had all gone at once... the Centaurs would have caught us out in the open and no one of us would have had a prayer." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Stay with Cara. She is precious to me."
"I will protect her with my life."
For hours the Tauren worked, mostly in grim silence. Sabraea had seen this grim determination before. Death was about to rain on this village from the east, and none of them expected to survive. But if they were fated to die, they would not make it easy for the Centaurs.
There was a pause, as thunder rolled. No, not thunder. Thunder does not continue to rumble and slowly gain volume. The chopping stopped, and what logs had been gathered were sharpened into pikes.
What the villagers had accomplished was actually quite impressive. A wall of pikes closed off the whole eastern side of the village, while a team of irregulars had been drilled in assembling here and there as a line of pikesmen.
Then the Centaurs came into sight, and a chill passed through Sabraea's body.
The Tauren were roused to fury at the sight. Their kind had fought against the Centaurs for generations. They began to roar, and moved into position: shamans, warriors, and braves just behind the pike wall; pikesmen on either flank; and hunters well behind. Sabraea was with Cara and Greatmother Raincaller and other healers near the inn, which was the sturdiest building on the eastern side of the village.
The Centaurs came up the hill, and began to slow when they saw the defenses which the town had assembled. They halted just out of archer range, and milled about a bit, as if pondering what they should do.
Then, what was surely the biggest, ugliest, most grizzled Centaur in Kalimdor came forward and shouted up at the Tauren in Orcish. "So! You got word of our arrival somehow. Do you think it is really going to matter?"
Shouting in their own language, he assembled a few groups of Centaurs into lines, and formed a line of archers at the back. With a loud roar the first line of Centaurs charged.
The hunters fired as soon as this first line came into range. Many of them fell; the second line just ran over their bodies, dead or not.
Then the villagers heard the Centaur archers release their bows, firing upward in a great arc -- a line of flaming arrows. These were aimed not at the line of defense but at the tents and other buildings.
As these arrows landed, there were a few shouts of pain, but exclamations of surprise all around. Not a tactic they were expecting -- nor could they have done much about it. Many of the tents went up in flames.
Bloodhoof, near the back of the line, organized an impromptu bucket brigage, in which Cara and Greatmother Raincaller took part; and once that was going, he shouted to Narm Skychaser. "Can the shamans move in and take out those archers somehow?"
"If we get close enough, yes. Can you give us cover?"
"Take the southern flank pikesmen and move in."
Skychaser nodded, and gathered a group of shamans. Sabraea tended to a couple of braves wounded by flaming arrows as a second hail of fire dropped down upon them.
Just then the remnants of three charging lines of Centaurs reached the pike wall. A few of them, pushed from behind, were impaled. Other Centaurs, seeing how hastily the wall had been erected, used their momentum to push the pikes up and out of the ground. Within minutes the defensive wall was down.
The line of warriors and braves stomped at once, stunning the advancing Centaurs and giving the Tauren a momentary advantage. But Sabraea, seeing how well the Centaurs were already doing against the village's defenses, and seeing how many the Warlord had held back for a second wave, knew things would be over soon.
The shamans had by now gotten within range of the Centaur archers, and as one unleashed an elemental attack. The ground cracked and buckled beneath the archers, and lightning rained down. Their damage had already been done; fire was spreading throughout the village faster than the bucket brigade could keep up with. Bloodhoof called off the buckets, pulling the bucketeers back to tending wounded or defending the village.
The first wave of Centaurs, dispirited, mostly defeated, peeled off, first in groups, then in a more organized retreat. A small cheer rose among the Tauren villagers.
With a roar, Krom'zar's second wave came, this time joined by the Warlord and other leaders. They overcame the shamans, who were still outside the defensive line; and then broke up into three groups, to attack from the North, East, and South all at once.
Sabraea, tending wounds alongside Cara, looked up at her. "I didn't expect us to last this long."
Cara shrugged. "We will rebuild. We always have."
Sabraea looked up at the burning tents and other structures. It would take some work... but with little effort the village could be rebuilt as it had been. But the people who died here today would still be gone.
Sabraea thought back to the sacking of Suncrown Village. Even up to the end, there had been bickering. Disputes over who would do what, over who would leave and who would stay, which books and other items had to be protected and which ones were expendable; old power struggles had resurfaced and several had jockeyed to be in charge of the town's defenses. In the face of similar destruction the Tauren had not folded up; on the contrary, they were at their most vibrant and coordinated today.
The hunters released another volley of arrows. It slowed the Centaurs, but within minutes, the village was filled with Centaur shouts and stench from all directions.
"Circle up!" shouted Baine Bloodhoof. "Into a ring, as I showed you this morning. Wounded in the center. Two lines deep. Move it, now!"
At the outside of the ring, warriors with large shields alternated with pikesmen. As the Centaurs arrived they found a tight ring with no obvious point of weakness. Krom'zar sent teams to scour the village for hides and foodstuffs, while small groups were sent to attack the ring. Finally the Centaurs came at the ring in a large wave; while they did bring down a few Taurens, the Centaurs were dropping in large numbers. Sabraea called again and again upon the Light to heal the wounded until she was exhausted, and then set to bandaging wounds in the center as she could. The melee raged on. The fires burned around them until they were exhausted and the entire town had been levelled.
Krom'zar saw a gap form in the ring and personally charged in before the gap could be closed.
Sabraea looked up to see the Warlord and his personal guards right on top of her and the other healers. Before she could shout a warning, they had struck down Greatmother Raincaller. With his lance, Krom'zar pierced Cara's right shoulder and lifted her up off the ground, tossing her up and over onto his back, where she slumped, unconscious. A few other Tauren women were grabbed, and the Warlord ordered his army to break off.
"No." Sabraea used her sword to prop herself as she stood, and then with a shout launched herself in a sprint after the retreating warlord.
The sound of her shout caught Krom'zar's attention. Hers was plainly not a Tauren voice. Obviously he had not noticed her before, but the Elf charging at him was certainly intriguing now. He motioned to two of his guards to capture her alive.
Her shout also caught Baine Bloodhoof's attention to Cara's plight. Seeing that the Centaurs were breaking off, he and a couple of his braves chased after the warlord. They would not reach him before Sabraea would.
Wincing at the pain, Sabraea leapt at the first guard and slashed his neck. She cast Judgment on the second, and then stunned him before bringing him down.
Krom'zar charged at her and reared up, dodging her swing and landing a kick on her right shoulder. This kick was enough to fling her around, and, disoriented, she fell.
She had bought enough time for Bloodhoof to grab Cara from the Warlord's back while the braves kept him busy. Facing off against the three of them, Krom'zar laughed and, with a leap, joined his retreating army.
Sabraea's shoulder was so badly dislocated that she was having difficulty breathing. Harutt Thunderhorn examined her for a minute, to make sure no bones were broken; and then, with a loud (and very painful) crunch, he snapped her arm back into place.
Cara was unconscious and breathing very shallowly, and, even with tight bandages holding the wounds closed, losing a lot of blood.
Greatmother Raincaller and several other of the healers were dead.
Sabraea didn't know what to do for Cara -- her training in first aid had not yet advanced very far -- and neither did anyone else.
The Centaurs had appeared satisfied and nonchalant when breaking off their attack, but scouts reported that they were hoofing it back to the Barrens very quickly and leaving wounded behind. Baine Bloodhoof nodded upon hearing this. "Mulgore is a valley, closed in on all sides, with only one way out. He wouldn't want to be trapped here by the Horde. It may not look like it, but we may have won."
It was hard to define their present state as victory. All of their food was gone, and all of their shelter had been burned to the ground. Many of the wounded were dying from lack of adequate care. Sabraea and others did what they could.
"You need to rest," Bloodhoof told Sabraea.
She looked up at him. "Ironically enough, I'm probably one of the least injured people in the village right now."
The villagers were exhausted, but there was too much to do before stopping to rest. Dead Tauren were carried to the burial grounds to the northwest of the village, to be shrouded and mourned. Centaur corpses were piled to the north; there were a lot of them. Dirt was shovelled over places where blood had spilled. Blankets and hides were gathered out of the wreckage to keep people warm at night.
The others slept from exhaustion, but Sabraea couldn't sleep. Here she was, just as Kardaeris had warned her would happen... hungry and lost in the burned out wreck of a village. She looked at the Tauren around her. Soon, she thought, they will be at each others' throats. All of that cohesion she saw during the battle would vanish and prove itself to be a lie.
She sat beside Cara. At some point, Sabraea was not sure exactly when, Cara stopped breathing.
* * *
Around noon the next day, Outriders from Thunder Bluff arrived in the village. Stunned, they looked around the village and wept. Those who didn't have medical training turned back to the north, promising to return before nightfall with tents and supplies.
Sabraea avoided Bloodhoof. At some point, she knew, he would come to rebuke her for her failure; but in the meantime he was too busy with other matters. A tent was erected with what supplies could be salvaged, and the wounded were moved inside. The wounded were fed first, though Sabraea was among those refusing rations. She changed dressings, and helped dig out an arrowhead, and sat with the dying, and kept the sweetweed incense burning.
Around the time that tents and food and medicine arrived from the north, Orcish Outriders came from the east, riding massive timberwolves. The Horde had regrouped and was scouting for remaining Centaurs in the area.
They brought two messages. First: after seeing to Camp Taurajo, Warchief Thrall was coming here. Second: Krom'zar's army had not escaped unscathed. As Bloodhoof had surmised, he was indeed pinned down in the pass leading back to the Barrens. At least a third of his army was hopelessly trapped and would be destroyed. The Warchief was not in the mood for mercy.
Between that, and the losses they'd incurred here at Bloodhoof, the Centaur menace had been cut nearly in half. They had absconded with a few hides and sides of meat, and in the process had sealed their own doom.
Some of the destroyed tents and other structures were cool enough now to go near. The villagers began to tear them down. A hunting party was established, and fresh wolf and strider meat was brought in and roasted in the village center.
Sabraea couldn't sleep, again.
* * *
In the morning the next day, Cairne Bloodhoof and his advance guard reached Bloodhoof Village. With him were more supplies, tents, blankets... and the children of the village, along with the three elders who had led them away to safety.
Seeing the army arrive, greeting her familiar friends, Sabraea finally began to cry. Zarlman Two-Moons came to sit beside her, and joined her in silence as she wept.
Finally, she wiped her eyes and spoke. "Over the last two days, all I could think about was what happened to my village in Quel'Thalas, after the Scourge came through. I told myself, someone will come. As bad as this is, we Elves are a powerful people; someone will come, I needn't worry. Zarlman... Zarlman, no one ever came. I've waited five years to see help arrive."
They walked in silence, watching pieces of the village being rebuilt. No one else had died today. They came to the northwest, where the burial grounds were; and found Baine Bloodhoof, standing beside his father, the Tauren High Chieftain, who was kneeling. Zarlman and Sabraea came to stand beside them.
Cairne stood to face them. When he spoke, his voice was old, yet strong. "Zarlman Two-Moons. Once again, you have my gratitude. And Sabraea Nightstar of Quel'Thalas. My son told me of your deeds on the day of battle, and of your valor."
"My... my valor, sir?"
"Did you not, though injured and exhausted, by yourself chase down a Centaur Warlord who had bested four braves? Did you not do so to rescue my grand-daughter?"
"But I failed."
"Sabraea, there is no glory in battle. Bards sing of victory and heroism, but only because they do not know what it is to send a person off to die a lonely, painful death. Or to be that person. Cara died because of Krom'zar, not because of you. It was his lance that pierced her chest. When you chased after her... it was a moment where all the shells and armor around your soul had been cast away and you showed your truest nature to the world. You showed yourself to be, in the deepest possible way, a member of Cara's tribe. My tribe.
"In our society, sometimes when someone is lost we look for another who might take their place in our community. Not a replacement for their unique spark, of course; but another soul to fill the emptiness. In this case we do not have to look far at all, for the Earth Mother has already shown us someone who can assume Cara's role... if she will accept my invitation to join the Bloodhoof Tribe."
Sabraea was speechless. Another voice, to her left, exclaimed in surprise. "Blood Elves joining Tauren tribes? What next, old friend, Tauren attending court in Silvermoon City?"
They turned to see Warchief Thrall, dressed in scuffed and damaged battle armor. His arm was heavily bandaged. He stood to face Cairne and they shared a moment in silence together, and then Thrall turned to the freshly-shrouded dead. He knelt before them in silence.
After a moment, he stood and turned to face them. "When I formed the new Horde, I hoped the day would soon come when we would no longer see so many people buried at the same time, like this. When we didn't have children who knew what it was like to see their home in ruins. I am getting older, but that day still seems so far away."
* * *
In Thunder Bluff, Sabraea formally accepted Cairne Bloodhoof's invitation. A friend from the Blood Knights, Sobralia, flew in by wyvern to attend the brief ceremony.
Sabraea chose to have the Bloodhoof totem tattooed on her arm. Sobralia, watching the dyes injected one by one, asked, "Aren't you afraid they will make fun of you in Silvermoon City for this?"
With her free arm, she shrugged. "Maybe it will start a trend. Zarlman Two-Moons was right, you know. It seems I am fated to be some sort of emissary for them in Quel'Thalas after all. But someone among my people has to be the first to return and proclaim loudly that we were right to ally with the Horde. We thought about all the things we can teach them, about architecture and literature and magic, and never was any thought given to what they can teach us."
Sobralia gave a incredulous look. "They're going to despise you, you know."
Sabraea thought about everything she had been through in Quel'Thalas -- the way she had been treated by her parents, by Magister Kardaeris, by the Order of Blood Knights, and shrugged. For once in her life, she was the master of her own destiny.
At 11:54 PM i submitted an edited version of an old story i wrote originally almost two years ago. I've put it behind the cut, in case anyone wants to read it.
Title: Sabraea Nightstar and the Tauren
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Characters: various of Bloodhoof Village; cameo of Thrall and Cairne
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 7,986
Warnings: violence, combat; memories of extreme hardship and forced servitude. No spoilers, since it was written just after the release of "The Burning Crusade."
Sabraea Nightstar and the Tauren
Sabraea Nightstar had been tasked with carrying messages from Orgrimmar to Thunder Bluff, which would be a long journey. She would have to traverse the entire distance by foot.
Durotar was hell, and she passionately hated the Barrens. It was hot during the day, cold at night; and the wind blew gritty dust which got caught under your armor and chafed. Along the entire journey she found little peace, between scorpions, hyaenas, and quilboars -- not to mention the menacing thunder lizards! Her rations ran out and she had to resort to eating strider meat, which was tough and gamey.
And here she saw many of these people with whom the Sindorei had become allied. First, the Orcs. Their Warchief Thrall had the brightness of intelligence in his eyes, but oh, how alone he must feel among so many lumbering brutes. Trolls were spooky and sinister, and found far too much mirth in the distress of others. Then there were the plodding Tauren, who seemed clever enough, but indolent, with just barely enough drive to do their tasks but no further ambition at all.
It felt as though an age had passed by the time she reached Mulgore. Here she no longer dreaded the breeze; it was temperate, a bit warmer than Quel'Thalas but sharing the same verdant meadowland. Even from the outskirts of Mulgore she could see her destination -- a city atop a cluster of mesas to the north.
Being able to see Thunder Bluff should have increased her concentration on the task at hand, but she found that the beauty of the land placed her in a kind of stupor. Her step slowed, and she found herself taking detours to examine unusual plants or just to sit by the side of a pond.
She matched pace with a Tauren traveling in the same direction. They exchanged a few words of greeting, but she was not feeling affable, and he seemed content to remain silent when they encountered each other on the way.
Sabraea hadn't made much progress to Thunder Bluff at all by the end of the second day. As she started to pitch her tent she scowled at herself for developing a Tauren's laziness.
Pulling the tent canvas from her pack, she heard rumbling growls, and the hair stood on the back of her neck. She turned to see at least five wolves around her in a semicircle. Her sword was just out of reach, and she hunched to dive for it. Before she could, the wolves were on her, knocking her over backwards. She felt searing pain in the calf of her right leg and her left arm. Pinned as she was, she could not cast Judgment or even turn away from the wolf who moved in to rip out her throat.
With a meaty thump and a loud shrieking howl, the wolf was gone! She heard a deep roar, and with a loud rush of wind another of the wolves was knocked away from her. A powerful stomp shook the ground, and the wolves were stunned. Sabraea looked up to see the source of the roar -- the Tauren who had been traveling the same road, bearing a warhammer that had to be bigger than she was. The remaining wolves ran off.
Sabraea was watching now as if floating ten feet above her body. She saw below her a bloody mess, an Elf woman with arms and legs strewn like a ragdoll, with ugly bruises and deep bloody bite marks. The Tauren set down his hammer and kneeled beside the Elf, telling her she would be all right and muttering in Orcish about blood loss.
Then darkness swept over her, and she was gone.
* * *
"Good morning, Elf. Are you awake?"
Sabraea's eyes focused on the face of a Tauren female with friendly, attentive eyes. "Where am I?"
"You're in Bloodhoof Village. Brave Cloudwalker brought you here, saying you had been beset by wolves."
"The last thing I remember, I was getting ready to pitch my tent." Sabraea started to sit up, but was overcome by a wave of nausea and vertigo. She groaned and lay back down. "What happened to me?"
"You were attacked by wolves. It took four days for your fever to break. Then we kept you--"
"Four days! How long has it been?"
"You've been here eight days. After your fever broke, we lit sweetweed incense you keep you asleep. The Greatmother felt that was more compassionate than watching you suffer as your wounds healed." She handed Sabraea a wooden cup. She was desperate for the water and gulped down a few sips before her stomach churned. "You should really only take small sips for now, Elf. Oh, my name is Cara. And yours? We are tired of calling you 'that Elf woman.'"
"Sabraea." Small sips. Good advice. She would remember that.
"Welcome, Sabraea. I wish we had met differently, but you are welcome just the same."
Cara stood as an older Tauren woman came in. "Hello, Sabraea. I am Greatmother Raincaller. I've been overseeing your care. Thank you for not dying, it would have harmed my reputation." Sabraea was stunned by this, but saw only mirth in the old woman's eyes. "I have to change your dressings, examine the stitches, and salve the wounds. This will hurt quite a bit, I'm afraid, but will get better over time."
Sabraea bore it all stoically, and fell asleep afterwards.
* * *
Sabraea woke to the smell of spices. Cara was beside her with a covered basket, which she opened to reveal pan-fried vegetable patties. Despite the nausea, she was ravenous. Her arms, what she could see of them outside the bandages, looked thinner than she'd seen them since... since... for a long time.
She ate, slowly.
"May I ask something?"
"Sure, Cara, what is it?"
"While you were feverish, you had horrible dreams. Or memories. You said over and over, 'Please don't make me do it.' I spent days wondering what it was you thought we were going to make you do."
Please don't make me do it. She'd been muttering that aloud. "Uh... must have been a dream, Cara; sorry, I don't remember. These are quite good. Much better than strider jerky."
They passed some time in silence. Sabraea dozed for a bit.
"Cara?"
"Yes, Sabraea?"
"I've put you to quite some trouble. I have some coin, I hope it will be enough to repay you--"
"No! Never mind that, Elf. This is my task, I am apprenticed to the Greatmother."
"Who pays you, then? For the work you've done on my behalf?"
"Pays me? Why should I care about that? It is an insult to the sacredness of your life to put a coin value on your care. My needs are met, I desire nothing more. The Earth Mother takes care of us, and we heed her wishes. If you wish to take a more pragmatic view, we see your health as an investment in the future. The Sindorei are our allies and you will take good tidings of us back to Silvermoon City. Also, it is helpful to the village to have experienced healers."
Cara stood and took away the empty basket. "By the way, Zarlman Two-Moons wanted to speak with you when you were well enough. Shall I tell him it is okay to visit you now?"
Sabraea sat up, slowly. "Yes."
Cara nodded and went out. A few moments later, Zarlman Two-Moons entered. He was so large, he had to duck to come in the small door to her tent. "It is good to see you well, Elf. We had worried you would not live."
Sabraea wondered why they should care. Few Sindorei would have. No one in Silvermoon City would even really notice her absence if she had. Just another dead orphaned Elf.
"Two days before Brave Cloudwalker brought you here, I foresaw your arrival while travelling in the Spirit Vision. A person would come to us who is broken in body and even more broken in spirit. Sabraea, you have a destiny here. When you are ready, I hope you will come to see me about performing a Rite of Vision."
She said nothing, but she certainly did not plan to take part in any primitive rites. She'd had quite enough of Tauren mystical mumbo-jumbo over the last few days. While she was grateful to them for their care, she felt that asking her to become involved with this was going just a little too far.
* * *
That night, memories troubled her. The Scourge of Quel'Thalas; the adults assembling with weapons and leaving for battle, never to return; hiding atop Sungraze Peak as the Undead ravaged Suncrown Village; finding her parents and sister and brothers dead in the burned-out husk of their family home; wandering lost and hungry for weeks in the ruins, learning to evade the crypt fiends; her beloved woods blackened and haunted, filling with strange and deformed fel creatures. And then Kardaeris found her. She remembered Kardaeris smiling... Kardaeris giving her food and a warm place to sleep... Kardaeris angry, Kardaeris grabbing her, Kardaeris demanding--
"Cara!" she sobbed. "Cara, come quickly, please! I need your help."
Cara appeared just a few seconds later, in her sleeping gown. "What is it, Sabraea? Are you in pain?"
"...Yes. I'm having trouble sleeping. You mentioned there was some sort of incense that could help me sleep?"
"Sweetweed. I will bring some, just a moment."
When Cara returned she brought with her a smoking incense burner. Sweet fumes soon filled her tent and soothed her into a bucolic calm. Sleep came...
* * *
Sabraea dreamed.
Her mother was calling her name. Sabraea went where she heard the voice, but her mother was not there. She heard her name being called again, more insistently. Sabraea again went to where she heard the voice coming from, but again did not find her mother. This time as her name was called, her mother's voice was frantic, and Sabraea ran, hoping this way she could arrive before her mother disappeared. But again, she was gone.
* * *
"Sabraea, do want me to help you walk to the Tribal Fire? There you can pray to Elune if you want."
Her face wrinkled. "Why would i want to do that?"
"Well, i thought--"
"You're thinking of the Night Elves, Cara. We Blood Elves don't worship Elune."
Cara looked disappointed. "I see. I apologize for upsetting you. I was hoping maybe to learn more about Elune, what little I know reminds me of the Earth Mother and I wanted to know more."
"You like to know about religions?"
"Yes! I can tell you anything you'd like to know about the Elawa, the Old Gods, even the Dwarven Makers. Gavin Runetotem taught me a lot about the Emerald Dream, I could share that with you! So... if you don't worship Elune, who do you worship?"
Sabraea thought about this a long time. "I don't know, Cara. I haven't attended any rites or services since the Scourge came." There seems little point to worship, she thought, when you have a god trapped in a basement. But she was under oath not to mention it.
Cara looked concerned. "Sabraea, your people need ritual and worship now more than ever! Before they lose their way for good."
Sabraea thought of her dream, running after her mother's voice again and again, and never finding her. "Cara... would you tell Zarlman i will do his Rite of Vision as soon as i am well enough?"
* * *
Sabraea could now wander a few feet, on crutches or with assistance. More than that and she started to get dizzy, and her leg would hurt. But she insisted on going ahead with the rite.
At dusk, Cara dressed her in a discarded hand-sewn child's robe (it was all that would fit) and assisted her on the walk to the Tribal Fire. There, she helped her to sit on a log and left her to wait for Zarlman Two-Moons alone.
Zarlman approached as the moon rose, bearing a skin full of water. He bade her to drink, and after she quenched her thirst, he drank and set the empty bladder on the ground.
"I'm glad you chose to accept my invitation, Sabraea. The Rite of Vision is an honored tradition among my people. We do not often invite others to participate; we only do so under the most unusual or dire of circumstances. So I feel I need to give you a full explanation.
"I know you think we are quaint, but you should know that we have chosen to retain the ways of our ancestors because we respect their wisdom, and because we need naught but the guidance of the Earth Mother. We are clever enough to build machines like the Gnomes and Goblins; we are also clever enough to see what their ingenuity has wrought. The Gnomes are now exiles from their own homes, thanks to their misuse of their own technology; and the Goblins... can you think of a more spiritually bereft people? We have gone to war with the Dwarves many times because of their disrespect for the land and the balance of nature.
"The Elves have done their share of damage to this world. When it was announced that the Warchief and our High Chieftain had accepted the proposal by Lady Sylvanas Windrunner that we ally with the Blood Elves, I and many other Tauren who converse with the spirit world knew that a great opportunity had arisen. We conferred at great length on what to do about your people's addiction to magic.
"We also know -- and you don't have to say anything to this -- that Prince Sunstrider and the Order of Blood Knights have undertaken some powerful project. We don't know what it is, we only know what ripples it causes in the world. We are concerned -- nay, we are frightened of what it could mean.
"Sabraea, you may not want to believe this, but I am convinced that the Earth Mother chose you to be an emissary between our peoples. She brought it about that you would have no choice but to remain in our company for some time, and would learn about our ways and our wisdoms."
Sabraea stood. "I agreed to perform your rite, but no more than that!"
"Please, sit. You will not be compelled to do anything." This surprised her enough that she sat down. "This rite will hopefully confirm or deny my suspicion. If I am wrong, then when you are well enough to travel we will see you off with a fond farewell."
"And if you're right?"
"If I'm right, then you will know what to do. I will give you whatever instruction you may request, or refer you to others if your needs are beyond my knowledge."
Sabraea nodded. "So, how does the rite go? When do we begin?"
Zarlman laughed. "It began when we drank the sacred Water of the Seers. The vision will begin soon."
Zarlman threw a handful of ground leaves into the Tribal Fire and they were consumed with a flare and a pungent cloud of smoke. "Sweetweed calms the body and mind, but this bitterweed will focus your mind and bring clarity to understanding. Soon your guide will come, and you must go where it leads."
* * *
Sabraea saw movement in the darkness behind the flames. A large animal slowly padded its way towards them. Sabraea started when she saw it was a cougar, calmly stalking into the light and coming around the fire, to stop and stare at her.
"Ah!" exclaimed Zarlman. "Very interesting. Usually the spirit guide is a wolf. But not surprising that for a Blood Elf we would see a cat instead. Well? What are you waiting for? Stand and follow where it goes."
Sabraea stood, and felt no pain in her legs. The cougar turned and ran. Sabraea did nothing for a second, but the cougar was picking up speed and would soon be entirely out of sight. She started to run after it, fearing this would be futile, but was pleased to find that not only was it painless, but she could run swiftly with no effort.
She matched pace with the cougar, and it picked up speed again, running across the bridge that north led out of the village, then running off the path into the forest. It sped up yet again, and now the two of them were running past trees, meadows, rocks, small copses and large groves, turning gradually to face the mountains in the west. They passed over great distances, surely they'd bounded over a day's journey or more in the span of a few moments. The way became steeper, but running remained effortless. Sabraea shouted with glee from the sheer joy of running so swiftly.
The forest gave way to rocky grassland, and the cougar slowed. There were a million traps for ankles and feet here -- but Sabraea leapt from one sound footing to the next as if she had been traipsing through rocks all her life.
In the cliff wall ahead she saw a cave. The cougar stopped at the entrance and turned to watch her, intending that she should go within. As she neared the cave entrance, the cougar turned away and, within a few steps, had somehow faded out of sight.
"Wait! Come back! I don't know how to get back to Bloodhoof Village!" She sighed. "Great." She turned to the cave. She could sleep here, and worry about getting back over the treacherous rocks and finding her way through the forest in the morning.
The cave was dark, but from the back came a faint blue glow. Slowly, finding her way by touch, she went to the back of the cave, where she found a small pool of glowing water... no, not water... magic! This was either a natural moonwell or a pool of pure mana. Manic with need, she reached in to scoop out a generous handful--
And with a flash she was young again, in her family's home in Suncrown Village. She was saying to her mother, "And Kelaia says he wants to be Pathstalker when he grows up. I think I would like to be a priestess."
Her mother laughed, a practiced laugh, a simulacrum of warmth and mirth. "But of course you are going to be a Ranger, darling-cakes, just as I am a Ranger, and my mother was before me. It is the destiny of every Nightstar firstdaughter to become a Ranger."
Another flash, and she was sobbing, a bow on the ground before her where she had hurled it in her frustration. Behind her, she could hear the voice of her instructor. "Ms. Nightstar, I am very sorry to say it, but Sabraea is the most singularly inept pupil I have ever taught. Perhaps you should buy her a hammer instead and see if she is any good at hitting things." His voice lowered. "I'm not certain she has her heart in this."
"Don't be ridiculous," came her mother's voice. "This is what Sabraea wants. I can't disappoint my little darling-cakes. The lessons will continue."
Another flash, and she was standing before a cracked mirror, applying red dye to her lips. Magister Kardaeris came into the room behind her without knocking. "Ah, good, Sabraea. You are looking lovely this evening. I have a very special treat in store for you. Magister Eaglefury is one of the most important men in Silvermoon City, playing a particularly important role in the reconstruction of our city and the re-ascendancy of our people. Meeting him is a great honor."
He drew close behind her, and she continued looking forward into the mirror, not meeting even his reflection. "Sabraea, the last gentleman to whom I introduced you said he felt you weren't supplicant enough. I strongly recommend that you examine your attitude. It would be a shame, a waste even, for you to have come this far only to find yourself right where I found you, scrabbling for crumbs in the ruins."
Another flash, and she was on Sunstrider Isle, warm from the sun. Standing to her left were four other girls, like her apprehensive and uncertain. It was unclear whether or not they were going to face prosecution. Blood Knight Noellene and Blood Knight Sunstriker, imposing in full plate-mail armor, came to speak with them. Noellene greeted them. "Sinu a'manore."
Jesthenis Sunstriker said, "We have conferred with Regent Lord Theron himself on your behalf. He is not without compassion, and understands that in the months following the invasion of the Scourge many of us were driven to acts of desperation." He lowered his voice. "And frankly, the entire court is eager to put this whole embarrasing matter behind us. Magister Kardaeris has agreed to... go away somewhere, probably to the ruins of Draenor. Let me add that there are some in court who want to ensure beyond doubt that you will remain silent." He paused to let the meaning of this sink in. "But we don't expect any of them to try anything sinister, as there is already enough wariness among the Magisters towards the Blood Knights as it is."
Noellene said, "We proposed to Lord Theron that we would see to it personally that this situation resolved to everyone's benefit. The Order greatly needs recruits. You five greatly need reputable employment. Assuming you are of age -- you are of age, right? the records were destroyed during the invasion -- we feel there would be no more fitting demonstration of your gratitude towards the Order for removing you from illicit servitude, than to accept our invitation to serve as recruits."
Another flash, and she was standing at attention in front of a great crowd in the Court of the Sun. On every side of her were recruits, some wearing new chain mail, others like her wearing second-hand armor. The Order did not yet have the funds to provide new armor for everyone. Behind her boomed the powerful voice of Lady Liadrin, the Blood Knight Matriarch, addressing the rally in the court below.
"These recruits demonstrate the hope of our bright future before us. I have looked into their eyes and know I can expect each and every one of them to demonstrate excellence in the performance of their duties. Our long night is over, the darkness has passed... the Light has returned to Quel'Thalas!"
The crowd cheered, and took up a chant. "Hail to Prince Sunstrider! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!" She could feel excitement welling within her. The darkness of the past few years was indeed over, and she was proud to play a role in the rebuilding of Elven might.
Another flash, and she was sitting before the Tribal Fire in Bloodhoof Village. Zarlman was speaking. "I am convinced that the Earth Mother chose you to be an emissary between our peoples. She brought it about that you would have no choice but to remain in our company for some time, and would learn about our ways and our wisdoms."
Sabraea saw movement in the darkness behind the flames. The cougar padded towards them, stood in front of Sabraea for a moment, and after giving her a meaningful glance turned and slowly walked back into the darkness.
They sat still for a few moments, the crackling of the flames the only sound. The fire, a bit dimmer now, was holding off less of the night's chill than before. Sabraea blinked. The pain had returned to her wounds and she was feeling tired now. "Was... was that it?"
"Yes. Tell me what you saw."
"A few memories." She told him most of them.
"Ah, the spirit showed you your past. One person after another has foisted their expectations upon you, never giving you the chance to find out who you really are, what you feel you are meant to be and do. And I have only done the same." He stood. "Well, I have not often been wrong, Sabraea, but it has happened before."
"Zarlman? What did you see?"
"I saw the future. The very near future. You must excuse me, there is a lot I must do before retiring. I will send Cara to help you back to your tent."
* * *
"Cara! What is all that commotion?"
Cara came in with another basket full of vegetable patties. "There has been a lot of activity this morning. Zarlman Two-Moons, Skorn Whitecloud, and Maur Raincaller gathered up all the children and offered to take them to the Darkmoon Faire! Well as you might imagine some of the parents were a bit scandalized by this idea, but Zarlman promised that they could keep the children from the seedier parts of the Faire. So the parents relented, and off they went! It should be quite an adventure for some of them.
"Meanwhile, Father and Harutt Thunderhorn told all of the irregulars to assemble for surprise drills! There hasn't been a drill in quite a while, so they were slow, and half of them didn't even know where their weapons were! That shouting you hear is Father dressing them all down right now."
"Cara... whose idea was it to hold a drill today?"
"I heard it was suggested by Zarlman Two-Moons before he left for the Faire."
Sabraea sat up. "Cara, where is my sword? My armor?"
"Your stuff is in my tent. Why? You're not going to join the drill, are you?" She laughed, good-naturedly, but stopped upon seeing Sabraea's seriousness. "I will bring it to you."
"Thank you."
Cara gave her a worried glance before leaving the tent. Sabraea ate the patties Cara had brought her, and after receiving her armor and sword she began dressing.
As she finished she heard commotion outside. Grabbing her sword, she limped out of the tent to see what it was.
At the center of the village, around the totem pole, a number of men and women had gathered, bearing various weapons or farming implements and wearing makeshift armor. Their attention turned to a ghostlike wolf, who was running towards them at full bore. It skid to a stop in the dust, and with a soft clap and misty cloud it stood and transformed into a Tauren, gasping for breath.
The Tauren who had been speaking to the crowd -- the village chief, Baine Bloodhoof -- addressed him. "Greycloud! You look as though you've seen the Old Ones. What--"
"No time! Must gather children and flee. Centaurs. A legion. Warlord Krom'zar, Barak, Verog, Hezrul. Camp Taurajo sacked, burned to the ground. They are coming here at full gallop. I ran the whole way..."
Bloodhoof looked around. "Take the... no, the children are already gone." Understanding dawned. "We will not flee. Zarlman and the other elders have gone to bring Braves and Watchers from Thunder Bluff. We need only hold off the Centaurs until they arrive. Cara! See that Greycloud is refreshed. The rest of you, erect what barriers you can. We need a wall of pikes on the eastern side of the village." He turned to Greycloud. "How long do we have?"
"Until midday at best, chief."
The chief was silent a moment. Then he bellowed, "You heard him! Get to work!" Some of the irregulars and village Braves began carving pikes from wood stores and others chopped trees. Bloodhoof turned to Greycloud. "Thank you. You may have bought us enough time to survive this. But to my great shame we are too vulnerable."
"You are not to blame, chief. The Horde is responsible for the defense of Mulgore, and even its forces could not muster quickly enough."
Sabraea caught Bloodhoof's eye. "How well do you fare, Elf?"
"Anu belore dela'na," she said, lifting her sword in salute. She meant it as a show of strength, but holding up the weight of the sword made her head swim, and she stumbled.
"Not well enough to fight. You must stay out of sight."
"My place is on the line."
"No. You will endanger yourself and others."
Sabraea muttered. Curse her injuries! "I can wield the Holy energies of the Light and bolster your Braves as they fight."
Bloodhoof considered this, and then nodded. "We might need such assistance." He came over, and spoke to her where no one else can hear. "My father's army will not arrive quickly enough. It will be at least two days. At first I was angry at Zarlman for not telling me what he knew... but this way, at least the children will live. If we had all gone at once... the Centaurs would have caught us out in the open and no one of us would have had a prayer." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Stay with Cara. She is precious to me."
"I will protect her with my life."
For hours the Tauren worked, mostly in grim silence. Sabraea had seen this grim determination before. Death was about to rain on this village from the east, and none of them expected to survive. But if they were fated to die, they would not make it easy for the Centaurs.
There was a pause, as thunder rolled. No, not thunder. Thunder does not continue to rumble and slowly gain volume. The chopping stopped, and what logs had been gathered were sharpened into pikes.
What the villagers had accomplished was actually quite impressive. A wall of pikes closed off the whole eastern side of the village, while a team of irregulars had been drilled in assembling here and there as a line of pikesmen.
Then the Centaurs came into sight, and a chill passed through Sabraea's body.
The Tauren were roused to fury at the sight. Their kind had fought against the Centaurs for generations. They began to roar, and moved into position: shamans, warriors, and braves just behind the pike wall; pikesmen on either flank; and hunters well behind. Sabraea was with Cara and Greatmother Raincaller and other healers near the inn, which was the sturdiest building on the eastern side of the village.
The Centaurs came up the hill, and began to slow when they saw the defenses which the town had assembled. They halted just out of archer range, and milled about a bit, as if pondering what they should do.
Then, what was surely the biggest, ugliest, most grizzled Centaur in Kalimdor came forward and shouted up at the Tauren in Orcish. "So! You got word of our arrival somehow. Do you think it is really going to matter?"
Shouting in their own language, he assembled a few groups of Centaurs into lines, and formed a line of archers at the back. With a loud roar the first line of Centaurs charged.
The hunters fired as soon as this first line came into range. Many of them fell; the second line just ran over their bodies, dead or not.
Then the villagers heard the Centaur archers release their bows, firing upward in a great arc -- a line of flaming arrows. These were aimed not at the line of defense but at the tents and other buildings.
As these arrows landed, there were a few shouts of pain, but exclamations of surprise all around. Not a tactic they were expecting -- nor could they have done much about it. Many of the tents went up in flames.
Bloodhoof, near the back of the line, organized an impromptu bucket brigage, in which Cara and Greatmother Raincaller took part; and once that was going, he shouted to Narm Skychaser. "Can the shamans move in and take out those archers somehow?"
"If we get close enough, yes. Can you give us cover?"
"Take the southern flank pikesmen and move in."
Skychaser nodded, and gathered a group of shamans. Sabraea tended to a couple of braves wounded by flaming arrows as a second hail of fire dropped down upon them.
Just then the remnants of three charging lines of Centaurs reached the pike wall. A few of them, pushed from behind, were impaled. Other Centaurs, seeing how hastily the wall had been erected, used their momentum to push the pikes up and out of the ground. Within minutes the defensive wall was down.
The line of warriors and braves stomped at once, stunning the advancing Centaurs and giving the Tauren a momentary advantage. But Sabraea, seeing how well the Centaurs were already doing against the village's defenses, and seeing how many the Warlord had held back for a second wave, knew things would be over soon.
The shamans had by now gotten within range of the Centaur archers, and as one unleashed an elemental attack. The ground cracked and buckled beneath the archers, and lightning rained down. Their damage had already been done; fire was spreading throughout the village faster than the bucket brigade could keep up with. Bloodhoof called off the buckets, pulling the bucketeers back to tending wounded or defending the village.
The first wave of Centaurs, dispirited, mostly defeated, peeled off, first in groups, then in a more organized retreat. A small cheer rose among the Tauren villagers.
With a roar, Krom'zar's second wave came, this time joined by the Warlord and other leaders. They overcame the shamans, who were still outside the defensive line; and then broke up into three groups, to attack from the North, East, and South all at once.
Sabraea, tending wounds alongside Cara, looked up at her. "I didn't expect us to last this long."
Cara shrugged. "We will rebuild. We always have."
Sabraea looked up at the burning tents and other structures. It would take some work... but with little effort the village could be rebuilt as it had been. But the people who died here today would still be gone.
Sabraea thought back to the sacking of Suncrown Village. Even up to the end, there had been bickering. Disputes over who would do what, over who would leave and who would stay, which books and other items had to be protected and which ones were expendable; old power struggles had resurfaced and several had jockeyed to be in charge of the town's defenses. In the face of similar destruction the Tauren had not folded up; on the contrary, they were at their most vibrant and coordinated today.
The hunters released another volley of arrows. It slowed the Centaurs, but within minutes, the village was filled with Centaur shouts and stench from all directions.
"Circle up!" shouted Baine Bloodhoof. "Into a ring, as I showed you this morning. Wounded in the center. Two lines deep. Move it, now!"
At the outside of the ring, warriors with large shields alternated with pikesmen. As the Centaurs arrived they found a tight ring with no obvious point of weakness. Krom'zar sent teams to scour the village for hides and foodstuffs, while small groups were sent to attack the ring. Finally the Centaurs came at the ring in a large wave; while they did bring down a few Taurens, the Centaurs were dropping in large numbers. Sabraea called again and again upon the Light to heal the wounded until she was exhausted, and then set to bandaging wounds in the center as she could. The melee raged on. The fires burned around them until they were exhausted and the entire town had been levelled.
Krom'zar saw a gap form in the ring and personally charged in before the gap could be closed.
Sabraea looked up to see the Warlord and his personal guards right on top of her and the other healers. Before she could shout a warning, they had struck down Greatmother Raincaller. With his lance, Krom'zar pierced Cara's right shoulder and lifted her up off the ground, tossing her up and over onto his back, where she slumped, unconscious. A few other Tauren women were grabbed, and the Warlord ordered his army to break off.
"No." Sabraea used her sword to prop herself as she stood, and then with a shout launched herself in a sprint after the retreating warlord.
The sound of her shout caught Krom'zar's attention. Hers was plainly not a Tauren voice. Obviously he had not noticed her before, but the Elf charging at him was certainly intriguing now. He motioned to two of his guards to capture her alive.
Her shout also caught Baine Bloodhoof's attention to Cara's plight. Seeing that the Centaurs were breaking off, he and a couple of his braves chased after the warlord. They would not reach him before Sabraea would.
Wincing at the pain, Sabraea leapt at the first guard and slashed his neck. She cast Judgment on the second, and then stunned him before bringing him down.
Krom'zar charged at her and reared up, dodging her swing and landing a kick on her right shoulder. This kick was enough to fling her around, and, disoriented, she fell.
She had bought enough time for Bloodhoof to grab Cara from the Warlord's back while the braves kept him busy. Facing off against the three of them, Krom'zar laughed and, with a leap, joined his retreating army.
Sabraea's shoulder was so badly dislocated that she was having difficulty breathing. Harutt Thunderhorn examined her for a minute, to make sure no bones were broken; and then, with a loud (and very painful) crunch, he snapped her arm back into place.
Cara was unconscious and breathing very shallowly, and, even with tight bandages holding the wounds closed, losing a lot of blood.
Greatmother Raincaller and several other of the healers were dead.
Sabraea didn't know what to do for Cara -- her training in first aid had not yet advanced very far -- and neither did anyone else.
The Centaurs had appeared satisfied and nonchalant when breaking off their attack, but scouts reported that they were hoofing it back to the Barrens very quickly and leaving wounded behind. Baine Bloodhoof nodded upon hearing this. "Mulgore is a valley, closed in on all sides, with only one way out. He wouldn't want to be trapped here by the Horde. It may not look like it, but we may have won."
It was hard to define their present state as victory. All of their food was gone, and all of their shelter had been burned to the ground. Many of the wounded were dying from lack of adequate care. Sabraea and others did what they could.
"You need to rest," Bloodhoof told Sabraea.
She looked up at him. "Ironically enough, I'm probably one of the least injured people in the village right now."
The villagers were exhausted, but there was too much to do before stopping to rest. Dead Tauren were carried to the burial grounds to the northwest of the village, to be shrouded and mourned. Centaur corpses were piled to the north; there were a lot of them. Dirt was shovelled over places where blood had spilled. Blankets and hides were gathered out of the wreckage to keep people warm at night.
The others slept from exhaustion, but Sabraea couldn't sleep. Here she was, just as Kardaeris had warned her would happen... hungry and lost in the burned out wreck of a village. She looked at the Tauren around her. Soon, she thought, they will be at each others' throats. All of that cohesion she saw during the battle would vanish and prove itself to be a lie.
She sat beside Cara. At some point, Sabraea was not sure exactly when, Cara stopped breathing.
* * *
Around noon the next day, Outriders from Thunder Bluff arrived in the village. Stunned, they looked around the village and wept. Those who didn't have medical training turned back to the north, promising to return before nightfall with tents and supplies.
Sabraea avoided Bloodhoof. At some point, she knew, he would come to rebuke her for her failure; but in the meantime he was too busy with other matters. A tent was erected with what supplies could be salvaged, and the wounded were moved inside. The wounded were fed first, though Sabraea was among those refusing rations. She changed dressings, and helped dig out an arrowhead, and sat with the dying, and kept the sweetweed incense burning.
Around the time that tents and food and medicine arrived from the north, Orcish Outriders came from the east, riding massive timberwolves. The Horde had regrouped and was scouting for remaining Centaurs in the area.
They brought two messages. First: after seeing to Camp Taurajo, Warchief Thrall was coming here. Second: Krom'zar's army had not escaped unscathed. As Bloodhoof had surmised, he was indeed pinned down in the pass leading back to the Barrens. At least a third of his army was hopelessly trapped and would be destroyed. The Warchief was not in the mood for mercy.
Between that, and the losses they'd incurred here at Bloodhoof, the Centaur menace had been cut nearly in half. They had absconded with a few hides and sides of meat, and in the process had sealed their own doom.
Some of the destroyed tents and other structures were cool enough now to go near. The villagers began to tear them down. A hunting party was established, and fresh wolf and strider meat was brought in and roasted in the village center.
Sabraea couldn't sleep, again.
* * *
In the morning the next day, Cairne Bloodhoof and his advance guard reached Bloodhoof Village. With him were more supplies, tents, blankets... and the children of the village, along with the three elders who had led them away to safety.
Seeing the army arrive, greeting her familiar friends, Sabraea finally began to cry. Zarlman Two-Moons came to sit beside her, and joined her in silence as she wept.
Finally, she wiped her eyes and spoke. "Over the last two days, all I could think about was what happened to my village in Quel'Thalas, after the Scourge came through. I told myself, someone will come. As bad as this is, we Elves are a powerful people; someone will come, I needn't worry. Zarlman... Zarlman, no one ever came. I've waited five years to see help arrive."
They walked in silence, watching pieces of the village being rebuilt. No one else had died today. They came to the northwest, where the burial grounds were; and found Baine Bloodhoof, standing beside his father, the Tauren High Chieftain, who was kneeling. Zarlman and Sabraea came to stand beside them.
Cairne stood to face them. When he spoke, his voice was old, yet strong. "Zarlman Two-Moons. Once again, you have my gratitude. And Sabraea Nightstar of Quel'Thalas. My son told me of your deeds on the day of battle, and of your valor."
"My... my valor, sir?"
"Did you not, though injured and exhausted, by yourself chase down a Centaur Warlord who had bested four braves? Did you not do so to rescue my grand-daughter?"
"But I failed."
"Sabraea, there is no glory in battle. Bards sing of victory and heroism, but only because they do not know what it is to send a person off to die a lonely, painful death. Or to be that person. Cara died because of Krom'zar, not because of you. It was his lance that pierced her chest. When you chased after her... it was a moment where all the shells and armor around your soul had been cast away and you showed your truest nature to the world. You showed yourself to be, in the deepest possible way, a member of Cara's tribe. My tribe.
"In our society, sometimes when someone is lost we look for another who might take their place in our community. Not a replacement for their unique spark, of course; but another soul to fill the emptiness. In this case we do not have to look far at all, for the Earth Mother has already shown us someone who can assume Cara's role... if she will accept my invitation to join the Bloodhoof Tribe."
Sabraea was speechless. Another voice, to her left, exclaimed in surprise. "Blood Elves joining Tauren tribes? What next, old friend, Tauren attending court in Silvermoon City?"
They turned to see Warchief Thrall, dressed in scuffed and damaged battle armor. His arm was heavily bandaged. He stood to face Cairne and they shared a moment in silence together, and then Thrall turned to the freshly-shrouded dead. He knelt before them in silence.
After a moment, he stood and turned to face them. "When I formed the new Horde, I hoped the day would soon come when we would no longer see so many people buried at the same time, like this. When we didn't have children who knew what it was like to see their home in ruins. I am getting older, but that day still seems so far away."
* * *
In Thunder Bluff, Sabraea formally accepted Cairne Bloodhoof's invitation. A friend from the Blood Knights, Sobralia, flew in by wyvern to attend the brief ceremony.
Sabraea chose to have the Bloodhoof totem tattooed on her arm. Sobralia, watching the dyes injected one by one, asked, "Aren't you afraid they will make fun of you in Silvermoon City for this?"
With her free arm, she shrugged. "Maybe it will start a trend. Zarlman Two-Moons was right, you know. It seems I am fated to be some sort of emissary for them in Quel'Thalas after all. But someone among my people has to be the first to return and proclaim loudly that we were right to ally with the Horde. We thought about all the things we can teach them, about architecture and literature and magic, and never was any thought given to what they can teach us."
Sobralia gave a incredulous look. "They're going to despise you, you know."
Sabraea thought about everything she had been through in Quel'Thalas -- the way she had been treated by her parents, by Magister Kardaeris, by the Order of Blood Knights, and shrugged. For once in her life, she was the master of her own destiny.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 07:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 11:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 10:41 am (UTC)I suck at motivation.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-13 11:55 am (UTC)I was touching up one of my Sobralia stories, but then i was reminded the deadline was midnight last night and not a few more days away, so i did what i could to this one (and still found a few errors afterward -- oh well).