Tales from the Past – Bad News
(I ran across several entries that were never published. Since the subject matter and history have bearing on the current posts, I thought I’d better publish them.)
“I’m sorry, Bitty.”
Just from the tone of Carlo’s voice, and his use of her pet name told her all she needed to know. Teine wasn’t coming back. He’d never know about their child. Bjorke nodded, numb. These things happened, she knew. But the thought of a future with him, their little family starting out… all gone now. Swallowed by the darkness of Duskwood.
“You won’t be alone. I’ll not let anything happen to my grandchild. We’ll raise her together.”
Bjorke squared her shoulders, and shook her head to clear it. “Sure, Carlo. It’ll be fine.” She stood and hugged him awkwardly. “I’ll be fine, too.” She smiled, but it was unconvincing. “Besides, plenty of time to get ready. The baby’s not due for another three months.”
Tales from the Past – Good News
(I ran across several entries that were never published. Since the subject matter and history have bearing on the current posts, I thought I’d better publish them.)
Bjorke sat in her room, not quite sure how to react. The symptoms were there, and the midwife had confirmed it. All she had to do now was fine Tiene, to tell him.
The only information Carlo would give her was that he was away, on a mission. “It’s best you two stay away from each other for a bit, Bjorke. You’re getting careless, more filled with thoughts of each other than of the work.”
As she wandered out into the garden, she saw a patch of yellow flowers. Smiling, she picked one, and held it to her nose. Simone came up to the young woman, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “He’s in Duskwood. He should be back soon. I bet he’ll be just as happy as you are.”
Bjorke looked at her, startled. “Happy?”
The tall night elf smiled. “It is pretty obvious.”
Sniffing her flower again, Bjorke realized that yes, she was happy about it.
Tales from the Past – Training
(I ran across several entries that were never published. Since the subject matter and history have bearing on the current posts, I thought I’d better publish them.)
Giddy with excitement, Bjorke thought over the orders she had been given once more. She looked up at Teine and saw the same look of enthusiasm on his face. They had been charged with scouting out Northfold Manor, and to take out as many highway men and mercenaries as they could. At last! A real assignment! After months of training, the young rogues were being tested in the field. They raced each other down to the supplies vendor, the competition between them adding an edge to their energy.
They prepared their kits, readied their gear, and headed down the road, racing each other. As they approached Thoradin’s Wall, they tried to get serious. They slipped into the shadows, just on the Arathi side of the great wall. Read the rest of this entry »
Leap of Faith
Fiddling with the Chrono-whatsit that Arsonite had manufactured, she was sure she had the setting right this time. For weeks now she had been venturing into the Caverns, each time with a different setting. Each time, unable to save her.
She pointed the machine at the portal, and switched it on. The Chronomatic Temporal Continuum Seeker 3000 clicked and whirred, the dish-shaped focuser swiveled, and Bjorke held her breath. A few sparks shot up, and a belch of oily smoke spewed forth. Arson had said this was within the “operating parameters,” whatever that meant, so she didn’t worry. Slowly, the portal took on a violet hue. When the color of the portal matched the beam from the Whatsit, she jumped through, hoping against hope this would be her last leap.
Dressed head to toe in supple black leathers, she kept to the shadows, the hooded mask covering her features. She couldn’t risk that they might recognize her. On some of her forays, she recognized the guards, although she was shocked at how young they looked. This time, she had the weather’s help to keep her hidden. The heavy rain made visibility nearly impossible, and she was glad she knew the terrain well. Slipping in through a basement passageway, she stopped, letting the water drip from her. Her breathing echoed loudly in her ears, and she was sure her pounding heart could be heard for miles.
A Day in the Life
He was used to her daily routines by now. Each day, up at dawn for a run. Instead of heading down to Stranglethorn, she went through the Wetlands now, wanting to stay close to home. Then, a check on messages and business at the Guild hall. The Auction House was the next order of business. There was no pressing need to sell or buy, but it seemed only a need to occupy her time.
Truitt hovered nearby, ready in case she bellowed for him again. He dreaded telling her each day there was no news: not of Edrick, nor of Jiv’undus, nor the baby. And now that Sorowyn and Avatarak were gone, presumably hunting the child themselves, he had even less news to report. Every few days, a tracker would arrive, either to be hired, or fired. Most of them left running, followed by a loud string of cursing, and the occasional knife thrown in their direction. The doorframe of the Guild hall was scarred with gouges from her knives. She never hit anyone – always the door frame. He knew from experience that she was hitting her intended target. “Bad for business to kill the employees,” she had chuckled at him, long ago. Read the rest of this entry »
Time and time again
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 »
Into the Caverns
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 »
Schematics
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 »
Time for Plans
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 »
There was a time…
((This is a flashback, brought on by the words of Feera.))
“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.”
Cavernous Time
“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 »
Home, Sweet Home
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 Period of Adjustment
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 »
