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The escorted delegation moved slowly along the Path of Glory, stopping every so often to offer up prayers and words of cleansing to unseen entities and wayward spirits. The armed escorts kept to either side, watching for ambushes and other dangers. The Ambassador and Exarchs rode upon the road itself, the wide, soft-soled feet of their elekks cracking and splintering the brittle remains beneath them. Theluin’s Stormsaber padded along with great care, though it couldn’t keep its powerful claws from scratching against bone every so often, and Eleazar’s and Tuan’s steel-shod chargers broke bones and skulls with every step. It was deeply unnerving to constantly have to listen to the dry crack-and-snap and the following jangle of bone shards cascading down through the gruesome pavement, and the sound spoke volumes of how deeply stacked the skeletal remnants were.
Eli kept a modicum of his attention on Tuan, who had also been allotted a string of prayer beads. She kept absent-mindedly counting them with her thumbnail, staring down at them with unseeing eyes, but at least she was being quiet. Something about her countenance nevertheless drove the Paladin to edge up to her as the Draenei dignitaries gradually progressed along the Path.
She didn’t look up as he pulled alongside, nor did she speak at first. Wise to her currently rather unpredictable temper, Eli chose to remain silent and let her take the initiative, if she would so choose.
She did.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Eli,” she mumbled softly. “I don’t know any prayers, I’m barely even a cursory follower of the Light, and I’ve probably killed enough myself to fill a couple dozen yards of this thing.” She sighed lightly, but she didn’t let go of the prayer beads. “I’m just a brawn extension right now.”
Eli glanced down at her hand, rhythmically counting out the prayer beads one glossy sphere at a time. She noticed the observation and made a slight grimace.
“I know, I know. It helps me think of something besides how much my head hurts.” Her face smoothed out for a fleeting heartbeat. “I guess this is kind of how believing works, huh?”
Eli blinked, momentarily taken aback by the she-rogue’s candidness. The woman seemed to have an endless amount of layers.
“So what does it mean?” Eli gave a light start when Tuan suddenly spoke up again. “All these prayers and chants they use.” The Paladin glanced uncertainly at her, and she rolled her eyes, her usual ornery attitude beginning to return. “The Draenei, lightbulb. Just humour me, please? There, I even said the secret word.”
Eli smiled lopsidedly and then paused, gathering his thoughts before he began. “I’d probably be best off jus’ explainin’ their history. I’ve studied it quite a bit, being a translator an’ such.” He glanced at her, and saw that she had looked up and was watching him with that peculiar mixture of casual ignorance and attentive acuity that only she was able to produce.
He went on. “The Draenei have been fleein’ for thousan’s of years, relative to our timeframe, but since most o’ that has been spent in the Twisting Nether, they haven’t experienc’d the flow of time the way the rest of the cosmos has.” Tuan arched an eyebrow, and Eli cracked a little smile. “The Exodar. It’s a kind of dimension-travelling spaceship, basically. I’ve heard that it’s just a satellite that wus once part of an entire fortress, but this is really goin’ right over my head.”
Tuan’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “A satellite construct? To a fortress?”
Eli raised a hand in defeat. “Like I said, s’only what I’ve heard.”
Tuan shook her head. “No, no. I believe you. It makes sense, is all.” She stared ahead, seemingly lost in thought.
Eli raised his eyebrows. “Makes sense how?”
The she-rogue hesitated for a split second, and then shot him a lopsided smirk. “This is where I’m going to shut up, and you’re going to stop asking questions.” Eli raised his hand again.
“Alright. Where wus I … ah, yes.” He adjusted his seat in the saddle, and Abolition nodded his armoured head with a snort. “Before they came to Draenor, they lived on their own world, called Argus. They were a highly develop’d civilization, incredibly skilled in crystal artificing an’ the arcane.” He paused and glanced at the Draenei delegates. Tuan arched an eyebrow again.
“… what comes next is pretty delicate stuff,” Eli continued in a very low voice. “Put simply, the Burning Legion invaded their homeworld an’ only a few of them managed to escape, led by Prophet Velen. He’d foreseen what the Legion would do an’ tried to warn his brothers, but they wouldn’t listen … and became the Legion’s sworn followers. It wus after this that Velen an’ those loyal to him took the name ‘Draenei’, which means ‘exiled’ in their original tongue.”
Tuan looked at him. “You’re saying that they had a different name before the proverbial turd hit the tree trunk,” she pointed out in the same low voice.
Eli looked back, hard. “Are y’ absolutely sure ya want ta know?”
She matched his gaze. “Try me.”
The Paladin reaffirmed himself that the Draenei dignitaries were well out of earshot, and shut his eyes tightly. “Before they turned t’ the Legion, they called themselves … Eredar.”
Tuan’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I were, Miss Tuan.”
She stared at him. “… they … they became demons. Sargeras turned them into demons. The Draenei are all that’s left of those that didn’t turn?”
“In a nutshell – yes.”
The she-rogue drew a deep breath and stared up into the sky for a moment, before catching herself and bowing her head once more with a grimace. “Light. … o wonder why the Night Elves got their branches in a bunch at first contact.” Her face twitched with a sudden, terrible realization. “Archimonde and Kil’jaeden … they’re Eredar, aren’t they?” Eli nodded. She shivered briefly. “Are they … are they Velen’s—”
“They were his brothers – in everything but blood – before Sargeras turned them.” Eli’s voice was little more than a still whisper. Tuan covered her face with one hand.
“Gods,” she breathed. They rode on in silence for a while.
Eventually, Tuan spoke up again. “How did they escape?”
“From Argus? Velen was approached by the Naaru, who basically spirited him and all the other Draenei away in some kind o’ giant dimension-travelling vessel. I don’ know if it’s the same one the Exodar’s said to come from, but—” He cut himself off abruptly when he noticed that Tuan had suddenly stiffened in her saddle, staring ahead with dazed, unseeing eyes, her hand gripping the prayer bead string tightly. “Miss Tuan?”
She blinked slowly, as if emerging from a deep trance. “… that … that name you just said.”
He paused uncertainly. “Um … the Naaru?”
Her eyes flickered briefly. “What … what are they?”
Eli scratched his neck, deciding not to point out that the she-rogue had, seemingly unwittingly, recognized the pluralization for some odd reason. “They’re … well, they’re essentially sentient beings of pure energy. They’re highly attuned to the Light, an’ that’s how the Draenei have become so attuned to it as well – by the Naaru’s teachings.” He smiled a little apologetically. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you … I dun know much myself. The Draenei revere them highly, an’, well … this is where I can finally answer your original question.” She blinked, seemingly snapping out of her momentary stupor, and glanced at him. He nodded reassuringly. “That’s what most Draenei prayers revolve around. The Light in general, and the Naaru in particular. They view the Naaru as manifestations of the Light itself.” He looked over at her a little more intently. “Are you alright?”
The she-rogue snapped back to attention, obviously having drifted off again. “What? I’m fine! Just got a little distracted, s’all.” She glared jokingly at him, fully back in her customary cantankerous mind-set. “Headache, remember?”
Having learned quite well by now how quickly her temper could switch around, he looked back at her with a little smile. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say you were well on yer way to forget all about it.”
“Only because you’re a good storyteller when you actually put your mind to it,” she chimed back. Eli was about to retort when he suddenly noticed his companion’s demeanour shift conspicuously. She didn’t make any overt reactions, but her eyes had become acutely aware of her surroundings.
“An ambush,” she explained in a low voice. “They’re close.”
Eli felt his muscles stiffen. “Where? How many?” he inquired in the same furtive tone.
“I’m not sure. Stay on your toes.” She shifted in her saddle, seemingly reacting to a sore muscle, but Eleazar saw the trained sweep her eyes made across the surrounding terrain. Eli, too, made great pains to appear as untroubled as possible so as not to give anything away to any would-be spies, but his own martial conditioning made it decidedly more troublesome compared to the crafty she-rogue. Stealth wasn’t exactly a typical Paladin attribute.
And then a Shadowbolt came streaming out from behind a rocky outcrop, pitching one of the escorting soldiers from his horse in an explosion of dark energy.
“Ambush!” came the sharp cry. “Protect the Ambassador!”
The soldiers, all of them veterans of the Sons of Lothar, immediately formed up a defensive wall around the Draenei Ambassador – or they would have, if a score of Orcs hadn’t fallen upon them from the opposite direction; Orcs with skin as red as blood and eyes burning with an entirely unnatural thirst for the very same fluid that seemed to coat every inch of their hides. The Exarchs were left to fend for themselves, their trained War Elekks stomping any would-be attacker into the ground and impaling opportunistic Orc warriors on their steel-reinforced tusks.
Reacting out of keenly honed instinct, Tuan had yanked Sandy aside almost before the first warning had been shouted, and found herself on the immediate outskirts of the swirling melee that had erupted in the middle of the Path. She saw with agonizing clarity the Ambassador surrounded by several Orcs, all of them leering maliciously as they brandished their jagged, brutish weapons and mobbed the Draenei’s Elekk. It reared up in panic, swinging its trunk around while it trumpeted in terror, and the Ambassador’s usually so calm countenance contorted in sheer fright as he freewheeled desperately with one arm to keep himself from falling off. It was a matter of seconds.
She whipped Sandy’s flanks hard with the reins, galloping at full tilt toward the unbalanced struggle. Burying her heels in the stallion’s sides, she let his combat training take over as he flung himself, steel-shod hooves first, at the churning mass of muscled bodies. She heard the distinct crack of a skull caving in and threw herself out of the saddle, landing in a roll. Her sword flicked out in one hand and her dagger in the other, and the next thing the Orcs knew, blood and other fluids were spurting from wounds that seemed to explode from their bodies while the tall, armoured palomino wreaked havoc among them with flashing hooves and teeth. The sudden onslaught was enough to separate them slightly, and Tuan didn’t forsake the opportunity. Darting right in front of the dangerously flailing Elekk, she leapt up and seized its harness with both hands, braced her feet against its front and pulled as hard as she could. The Elekk came down on all fours with enough force to shake the ground beneath it, the tremor almost knocking the closest Orcs over while the Ambassador clung to his saddle for dear life.
Landing on her feet, Tuan darted to one side of the shaken beast, gripped the harness again and vaulted onto the Elekk’s back. Her dagger flicked once, and an Orc who had been in the process of running his serrated blade into the Ambassador’s unguarded back tumbled to the ground with a shriek, covering his face as blood gushed from his eyes. Maintaining her momentum, she swung herself clean across the Elekk’s rear and landed with her heels squarely on the forehead of another Orc about to mount the hemmed-in animal. He went down like a bag of bricks.
With a deafening roar, one of the Exarchs came charging in on his Elekk, the mighty war mount thundering through the throng of Orcs and swinging its plated head from side to side, mowing the warriors down by the handful. Tuan only barely managed to avoid being caught in the beast’s path by throwing herself to the ground, rolling beneath the War Elekk’s tremendous girth and coming up on the other side. She glanced quickly over her shoulder and spotted Eleazar and Theluin side by side, driving off ambushers with blasts of starfire and holy light as the rest of the escorting soldiers began to form a cohesive defensive circle.
Sandy was holding his own, if barely. Equally trained to avert combat when without a rider, he danced skillfully away from the melee, and the ambushers paid him little to no heed as a result, fully intent on the Honor Hold warriors and the delegates. These Orcs were hardly a gaggle of broken war prisoners having had weapons shoved in their hands; they had been bred and groomed for nothing but relentless battle and bloodshed, and it was going to take a highly concerted effort to make them flinch in the face of an adversary.
Tuan’s eyes darted in the other direction and fell upon what had to be the orchestrator of this opportunistic assault: an Orc Warlock, flinging bolts of shadow and felflame into the soldiers’ ranks even as they strove to maintain their positions, his ragged, scarred features twisted further in a maddened grin of malevolent triumph, bellowing blasphemous encouragements to his fellow warriors who only seemed to become driven to even baser displays of savagery by the demonic incantations. He clasped a gnarled, twisted staff of felwood in one hand and a string of beads in the other, the latter only superficially reminiscent of the Draenei delegates’ prayer beads as the obsidian-black, fel-green marbled pearls in it were interspersed with what looked to be carved pieces of bone.
Another volley of shadowy energies barrelling across her vision, Tuan felt something snap within her. Not caring to cover her advance, she simply sprinted clean across the open space between the Warlock and the ambush. So caught up in his own gloating was he that he never noticed her, beginning to chant a dark invocation that would surely spell certain doom for the plucky humans and their precious charge.
She didn’t even bother using her blade. Smashing him across the face with the pommel, she bluntly interrupted his spell. His expression immediately shifted into a scowl of pure, undiluted rage, but Tuan had gone far beyond mere intimidation. Stepping back and spinning on one foot, she planted the heel of her boot squarely in his fanged maw, sending his head reeling backwards in an explosion of spit, blood and teeth, only for him to double over in excruciating pain as she plunged her sword into his midriff, gouging into his intestines.
The slight discharge of the warlock’s protective wards dispersing sent a jolt of pain through her already thoroughly tortured brain, and that became the drop that made the goblet flow over. Her lips pulling back in a savage snarl, she let go of the sword hilt, leaving the tall blade buried in the Warlock’s guts, stepped in close and latched her now free hand onto his face, roaring at the top of her lungs:
“I – HAVE HAD – ENOUGH!!!”
The Warlock’s eyes widened to the point of popping out of their sockets, his bloodied mouth opened, but no sound would escape him. He started shaking violently, his staff falling from one hand and the vile trinket from the other as the now towering she-rogue pinned him in place, her silver-teal eyes blazing brightly with a fury beyond words. A sickening, vibrating gurgle began to issue from the Orc’s throat, his eyes rolling back in his skull, but she wouldn’t let go.
“Tuan!!” came Eli’s terrified cry. “Light’s grace, stop it! Let him go!”
Her eyes flickered briefly, and then her face hardened. Releasing the Orc with a shove that sent him lurching, she seized the blade that was still embedded in his abdomen, set a foot against his chest and yanked the weapon loose in a fountain of blood and worse things. Throwing aside her dagger, she grasped the sword with both hands and brought it around in a tremendous arc of death.
The Warlock’s head went flying, leaving his decapitated body to collapse in a heap on the gore-slicked ground, blood cascading at full force from the jagged stump of his neck.
Tuan stumbled slowly backwards, panting hard as the last few minutes finally caught up to her. She wavered for a fraction of a heartbeat, and then she too crumpled to her knees, her sword falling from her limp fingers and landing with a clang and a rattle against the stones beneath her.
Eli rushed over to her in an instant with Theluin mere steps behind. The Paladin kneeled by her side and was about to grasp her shoulders when the Moon Priest’s voice sounded sharply in his ear:
“Don’t.”
Eleazar looked up in astonishment and temporary rage. “What??”
Theluin kept his gaze fixed on the she-rogue. “Just wait.”
The Paladin stared at his old friend for a single tense heartbeat, before returning his attention to the heaving woman in front of him. His every conviction screamed at him to comfort her and make sure she was unharmed, but the elderly Kaldorei’s words held him back. He looked Tuan over carefully, mindful not to touch her, but every speck of blood on her armour seemed to be only that of her opponents – thick, purple ichor, already beginning to coagulate in the parched air and stinking to high hell.
He raised his eyes to her face, and the Night Elf’s warning became all too apparent. Her face was frozen in that same, feral grimace as earlier, but it was her eyes more than anything that made the Paladin’s blood run cold. They were … empty, for lack of a better word, and yet her irises were alive with restless eddies and swirls and a deep, dark gleam that seemed to at once drive his gaze away yet inexorably pull it inwards. He gritted his teeth and averted his eyes, forcing himself to wait.
Somewhere during this, the Draenei Ambassador had approached them and was now standing silently to one side, regarding the scene with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he stepped up in front of the she-rogue and kneeled smoothly before her, eliciting odd glances from the Paladin and Priest. Whispering a brief but intense prayer in Draenic, the Ambassador brought his fingertips first to his forehead, and then brushed them gently across Tuan’s face, the distinct glowing sigil of his people appearing above his cranial plate.
Tuan’s face relaxed immediately, her eyes widening as she inhaled sharply. A brief tremor ran through her tall, wiry frame, and then her eyes flickered close, her head slumping forward.
Eli stared back and forth between the she-rogue and the Draenei. “What … what was that?”
“A recall,” the Ambassador replied matter-of-factly. “She will be with us again in a few moments.
“A ‘recall’? From what?” Eli suddenly felt his head fill with questions. “What did she ev’n do to that Warlock? What’s going on here?”
The Ambassador merely continued to regard the inert woman with a strangely detached countenance. “She drained him. Practically to death.”
“Drained him?” Eli echoed, all of his diplomatic training gone out the window. “Yeh mean, like, mana-drained? She’s—she’s a rogue, fer Light’s sake! She shouldn’ ev’n be able t’ do that!!”
“Nonetheless, she did.” The Ambassador rose to his feet, paying little to no heed to the agitated Paladin’s frantic stuttering, and strode off to retrieve his Elekk. Theluin gave Eleazar a slightly reprimanding but nevertheless sympathetic look.
A weak sigh from the she-rogue snapped Eli’s attention back to her, and he gingerly held out a hand. Moving almost like an automaton, she grabbed hold of his arm and pulled herself with nigh unbearable slowness to her feet. Theluin walked forward and, kneeling with far greater agility than his considerable age would have implied, retrieved Tuan’s discarded weapons. He held them out to her without a word, and she accepted them mutely. Stepping forward with a slight stagger, she bent down, ripped a piece of cloth from the dead Warlock’s ragged robes and cleaned off each blade thoroughly before smoothly sheathing them once more.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally looked up and met Eli’s gaze. The rage and emptiness were gone, but had instead been replaced by a terrible exhaustion and something that very closely resembled guilt and a lingering discomfort.
“… sorry ‘bout that,” she mumbled. “I guess I have a berserk streak in me.” She didn’t smile.
Eli sighed deeply. “As long as yer unharmed, Miss Tuan. But heavens alive, did y’ ever scare th’ living daylights outta me.”
This, at least, managed to cajole a weak smile from her. Without a further word, she turned around and wandered back to the site of the ambush to find her horse.
Eli looked at Theluin, an open plea in the Paladin’s eyes, but the Moon Priest shook his head almost imperceptibly as if to say, ‘Let her come to us in her own time. We cannot force her.’
As they, too, wandered back to tend to the injured, one of the Exarchs approached Theluin with a polite bow. The ancient Kaldorei bowed in return and nodded to Eli to continue without him, before turning back to the Draenei with a gently inquisitive look.
“We are thankful,” the Exarch began in his broken Common, his face set in an odd mixture of his usual stoicism and a hint of remorse. “Woman save Wordbearer. We are in debt.” He bowed his head low again.
Theluin returned the gesture solemnly. “I will pass along your word,” he replied diplomatically. The Exarch nodded in agreement and strode off to join his kinsmen as they recomposed themselves in the wake of the forceful interruption to their pilgrimage.
The soldiers were almost all of them wounded to a degree, some grievously, but none seemed to have fallen. One proved too much even for Theluin’s, Eleazar’s and the Exarchs’ combined healing skills to save, however, and his comrades arranged a simple stretcher between two horses to carry him back to the Hold for last rites. It was a glum procession that finally rode through the armoured gates of the settlement, and the news of the ambush was received with a rainbow hue of resentment and vengefulness from the stationed troops.
Theluin and Eleazar quickly brought word of the attack to Commander Trollbane.
“Red-skinned Orcs?” he asked intently after the mismatched duo had relayed their report in as much detail as they were capable.
Theluin nodded.
Danath grumbled under his breath. “Fel Orcs … looks like they’re still in force within the Citadel, and they’re getting audacious to boot.” He looked up at his acting field officers. “Could you determine if they were out on a military assignment?”
“It did not seem like it,” Theluin replied. “As stated, their leader was a Warlock, most likely intent on securing some personal measure of glory.” Eleazar nodded in agreement.
The Commander sighed. “Very well. Still, we can’t dismiss this as an isolated incident. I will have to intensify our monitoring of the Citadel.”
“Pardon th’ question, sir, but where exactly is this Citadel located?” Eleazar ventured.
Danath raised an eyebrow. “You should’ve seen it already, Master Abraham. It’s the very same fortress the Path of Glory starts at.”
Eleazar inhaled slowly. “So that was the Citadel. I wasn’ sure at first, but …” He paused. “S’a little disconcertin’ having it so close.”
Danath gave him a sympathetic look. “All the more reason why we’re constantly combat ready, even within the walls of this keep.” He laid a hand on his own longsword, persistently clasped to the Commander’s belt and unsecured. Eli nodded understandingly, recalling the swiftness with which Trollbane and his officers had reacted when the then-demoniac Colonel Jules had made an attempt on the Draenei Ambassador’s life.
Danath Trollbane straightened up and addressed both of them. “You’ve fulfilled your mission statement admirably; I release you from your temporary ranks as acting field officers.” He saluted, albeit with a grateful smile. “You are dismissed.”
Eleazar returned the salute, as did Theluin with a corresponding Darnassian gesture. They marched out of the situation room, only to bump almost squarely into Tuan who was lounging outside the thick, steel-reinforced door.
She gave them a cursory glance and nodded curtly. “Finally finished, huh? Guess I’ll pop in and check if he needs any snooping done.”
Eli stared at her for a moment. “Were you—”
“—eavesdropping?” she finished for him with a lopsided smirk. “Of course. You forget what I am, Paladin.” She pushed past them and made to open the door again, but Eli halted her with a hand on her arm. She stopped dead in her tracks and swatted him away.
He looked at her, a feeling of dismay sinking into his guts. “Miss Tuan …”
She hesitated, and then sighed quietly and ran a hand through her hair. “Look, Eli. I only came along with this dispatch for one very simple reason – to have an excuse to get through the Portal. And now I’m here, so that ruse is over and done.” She looked at him, her eyes tired and faintly apologetic. “I need to start doing what I came here to do, and that’s going to involve us going separate ways sooner or later. It’s not something I’ve decided, or something I’m going to enjoy. It’s just part of my job.” She cracked a weak smile. “I’m a rogue, Eli. Being a transient is what I do all the time. And now you’re just going to have to excuse me.”
She turned back to the door, threw it open with little ceremony and strode inside, closing it firmly behind her.
Eli found himself staring at the closed door, his soul cold and hard within him. He flinched slightly when Theluin placed a gentle hand on his armoured shoulder, and hung his head in defeat.
“I know,” the Moon Priest said softly, matter-of-factly. “I know.”
“Does she do this often?” Eli asked, wishing fervently that his voice wouldn’t have sounded so bitter. “Make friends with people an’ then leave ‘em in th’ dust?” He looked up and met the elderly Night Elf’s calm, but compassionate gaze.
“It happens.”
“Obviously often enough,” the Paladin grunted. Yes, definitely too bitter.
Theluin squeezed his shoulder gently. “It will pass.”
“Easy fer you t’ say,” Eli mumbled, his head drooping again.
At this, the ancient Kaldorei did show a small, ironic smile. “I do admit I have a … favourable relationship to the passage of time in this respect.”
Eli was silent for a while. “So what happens now?”
“We will continue with our assignment, naturally. The dignitaries will most likely want to recover after that rather nasty ambush, and there is the Colonel’s recovery to oversee.”
Eli blinked, and sighed. “Yer right … we still have work t’ do. Just like her.”
Theluin nodded. “At the time being, we are all staying here. And even if her travels take her where we cannot go … our paths might cross again in the future.”
Eli nodded slowly, letting that reassurance sink in. He straightened himself, managing a smile. “Whatever th’ future has in store fer us all, eh?”
Theluin smiled back and patted the Paladin’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
They turned as one and made their way back to the Inn, walking almost shoulder-to-shoulder.
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Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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