The Search for Redemption

A few quiet enquiries led nowhere. No one had seen a one-eared elf or an elf child. As she sat on her goat, looking around the rolling hills, she felt calm. What was the rush? There was plenty of time, right? All the time in the world.

The tinkle of the water as the stream raced over the rocks reminded her of something, but what? Turning her mount to the hills, she found the path without even looking. She left Blastit by a tree, and carefully made her way up, keeping to the shadows. She saw the guards before they saw her, but she didn’t recognize them. She frowned. Perhaps it would be best to stay hidden. Read the rest of this entry »

Bjorke sat in the guild hall, a stack of unopened mail on the table in front of her, sipping at her mead. It was quiet today, too quiet, and she was uneasy.

The communications channel crackled to life with the sound of coughing. “Good day, Marshal.” Feera sounded hoarse, but not from sickness.

“Feera, are you alright?” She was glad the girl had returned unscathed from her impetuous foray into the Caverns, yet Atolli was still missing. How much time did they really have? Read the rest of this entry »

The parts were easy enough to get, especially with Bjorke’s connections. She met with Arsonite at his workshop. Carefully stepping over or around the various parts strewn about the floor, she handed him the schematic. “Can you make this?”

The smoke-scented gnome took the parchment, and headed to his desk, maneuvering his way through the labyrinth easily, having committed it to memory. Bjorke noted fresh burns on his hands as he spread out the schematic on the only clear space in the entire workshop. His head darted back and forth, and Bjorke thought she heard him cackling in delight as he looked it over. Arson pulled out a notebook, and checked his inventory listing. Read the rest of this entry »

Jiv’s deep voice pulled her back to the present, her head swirling with barely remembered images. “She’ll be eaten for sure.”

“We can find her, Feera. We’ll get her back.”

“Careless girl… I ought to…”

Bjorke cut him off before he could finish. “Enough, Jiv, you are not helping. I’ll form a search party. I know a very experienced tracker.” She thought of Aurendar. She knew Sorowyn, and Bjorke was certain she’d help. She tossed a fish to Freya, and turned her towards Shattrath. There were plans to be made. Read the rest of this entry »

“She’s gone.” Her blood turned to ice. In the blink of an eye, her hand was at his throat.

“Bring her back!” Her voice was shrill with panic and fury. “You bring her back!” The sinews of his neck were tight cords in her hand. She heard crackling, as his windpipe crushed… the pulsing, racing beat of his blood vessels… the smell of fear. It is said the Devout have no trepidation of meeting their Maker, but the rank odor of fear was on him. Her nostrils flared in disgust, sneering at him. Rasping for breath, his hands clawed at her impotently.

“Bring… her… back…. “ Loud thuds punctuated her order as his head cracked against the wall. The light faded from his bulging eyes; the purple color drained from his face as the life drained from his body. A gasp and a presence at her shoulder prompted her grip’s release, and he crumpled to the floor, a red stain on the wall following him down.

Her hand grasped the leather-wrapped hilt of her blade; a sharp crack as elbow met tooth and jaw… her arm continued its arc, slicing… blood spurted out, coating her hand, splattering her face. As she turned, she watched as the body slumped where it had stood, turning more, full circle, back to the small form, still and silent on the bed.

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Carlo found her, singing softly, cradling the child in her arms, rocking back and forth. He looked at the priest and his young acolyte, their lifeless bodies, the pools of blood staining the white robes, stark contrast to the emblems of the Dawn on their chests.

“Bitty.” His voice was soft.

Bjorke smiled up at him, putting a crimson-stained finger to her lips to shush him. “She’s sleeping.” Bloody fingerprints littered the pale, lifeless face of Issa. Dried blood caked on Bjorke’s arm and freckled her face, the only color there. She was nearly as white as the child, her eyes wild with shock and incoherence. “She’s sleeping.”

“Hey, no! Don’t light Pyry’s tail on fire!”

Bjorke laughed, and heard Feera’s voice once more over the comm. “It’s not funny, Marshal…”

“Yes it is, she’s not mine…” Bjorke smiled, thinking of the antics she had put up with, so long ago.

“Lucky…” Feera’s voice whispered, barely audible.

Atolli, already appearing to be almost toddler size thanks to the mixture of human and elf blood, giggled into the stone at the voice on the other side.

“I miss taking care of her…” Bjorke said softly, making Feera snort. Read the rest of this entry »

Days passed, as days do. Each night, Sorowyn would bring Atolli to the hut in Dun Morogh. Bjorke kept watch over her, neither of them able to sleep. Atolli wailed for her mother, and Bjorke did her best to offer comfort. Edrick would wake at dawn – Bjorke envied his ability to sleep through the crying – and take Atolli down to the stream. He would sing her Althorin battle songs, letting Bjorke get a bit of rest.

Each morning, Sorowyn would arrive. Her nighttimes may have been filled with wild animal romps, but by day, she was the calm, serene elf they had always known.

A month passed. The hut was now a picture of domestic tranquility. New wood floors, new furs hung at the windows, the roof fixed, the troll head hanging squarely above the low table. A cradle sat in the corner, with a new blanket, hand stitched by Mabon. Read the rest of this entry »

A small jade bird fluttered around Bjorke’s head. Whatever Soro wanted must be urgent. She took the message from the ethereal creature. “I need to see you.”

When Bjorke and Edrick arrived at the shrine outside Shattrath, they found Sorowyn holding the baby, her face drawn and tired. While this would be normal for any new mother, there was an edge to Soro – a look of desperation. When they drew closer, Bjorke could see Soro’s arms were covered in scratches, and her nails were more like claws.

“Hold her, please, Bjorke.”

Taking the baby awkwardly, Bjorke looked closely at the woman. Her hair was a mess, tufts of fur poking out from her hair, and her eyes glowed yellow, like a cat. Read the rest of this entry »

Sorowyn lay on the bed, sipping the bitter elixir and resting. She was tired, but not ready for sleep. Her hands were more claw-like than elf, her hair showing bits of black fur amongst the strands of blue. She struggled to keep her elf-form, and concentrated on Bjorke. “I did not know you had a child.” Her voice was soft, as always.

“She would have been 17. She was born too early, and it was hard for both of us.” Bjorke kept her gaze on the tiny infant in her arms, her voice cracking with emotion. Read the rest of this entry »

Ava, Soro, the baby and Jiv’undus were waiting inside the Shattrath infirmary. Once Bjorke was fully visible, Jiv bowed to the new mother, and said good night, his work done. Bjorke walked over to the bed. The baby was so tiny, and Soro looked spent. They needed more help.

“I’m going to Hillsbrad. I’ll talk to Simone. She’ll know what you need, Soro.” Before they could ask what she meant, Bjorke was gone again.

As she raced up the path to Ravenholdt, she tried not to think back, tried to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. She woke Simone, the words tumbling from her quickly.

“The baby’s too early, she’s small. You have to help her. Tell me what to do…”

The night elf set to work, asking questions as she pulled herbs from her shelves. She sent Bjorke off, armed with several bottles of elixir, and instructions on how to make more. Read the rest of this entry »