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A REBEL
PART I
I once heard an expression that said innocence has the power to conquer evil, but I never did put much faith in folk sayings. Little did I know that those seven gentle words were destined to become my mantra. Of course, I had no rune stones to foresee the events that would soon unfold as I hid in the bushes watching little Oomie pick the newly ripened grizzleberries. Oomie, a human girl at the naïve and innocent age of six, was warned many times not to wander far from Blue Sky but, as always, her wide eyed curiosity made the alluring pull of adventure irresistible.
Shadowmelding into the woodline, I watched. Unnoticed by my adolescent charge. I couldn’t help but chuckle as I witnessed the adorable pattern of her gathering, one berry for the basket, one for the mouth. Even from a distance, my keen kaldorei eyes could see the juices dripping from her chin. I shook my head at the thought of the sticky mess I would soon be wiping from the young child’s pretty little face. As I imagined this touching exchange of future affection, I sensed a great danger approaching from the south. A grizzly. A hungry one by the sound of it. Instinctively, I pulled an arrow from my quiver and drew my bow string. Waiting until the precise moment, I let my arrow fly. My aim was true and the spear tip found the softest section of the grizzly’s neck. Oomie, startled by this, turned to face the bear just in time to watch it fall to the ground. With my discreet position compromised, I approached the youngling with the stern look of an angry parent.
"Oomie," I said, irritation evident in my tone. "How many times have you been told not to wander this far from the camp?"
"Uncle Rik," she answered passively, obviously ignoring my attempt at scolding. "Want some berries? They are very fresh.”
I sighed. With a slight roll of the eyes I held out my hand. "Come Oomie," I said. "We need to get back before your father notices you've gone exploring again. You do remember the last time, don't you?"
Oomie giggled. "Okay, Uncle Rik," she responded, "I'm sorry."
The girl took my hand and started pulling me back to camp. Slowing, I glanced at the slain Grizzly that lay before me. What a beautiful pelt, I thought. I considered taking a moment to skin the carcass, but Oomie's playful tugs made me reconsider. My priority was Oomie. Young defenseless Oomie.
As we walked back to camp I reflected on the honorary title the young human had bestowed upon me. Uncle. The same title her father had called me just twenty years earlier. Her father, Roland, still young and brash in his own right. But I'd made my promise. The promise to my dying friend. The promise to protect his children, and his children's children. For as long as I had breath in my lungs, I would do just that.
Blue Sky Logging Camp is a small,
As we entered the camp, I saw Roland waiting near the end trail, looking crossly at his offspring as we approached.
Arms akimbo he spoke. "Oomie!" he scolded. "About in the hills again? Have I not warned you many times over of the dangers involved?"
"But father, the berries are larger and juicier the further out I go. Besides, Uncle Rik was with me."
I saw Roland eye me closely.
"Oh no you don't," I answered. "Don't pawn the responsibility onto me. You didn't tell anyone you were going, it was lucky I happened to notice you missing."
"Go see your mother, child," Roland ordered. "She'll get you cleaned up for supper."
The child ran along and Roland, the boy I had watched grow into a strapping young man, turned next to me in anger ready to speak.
"Quell your displeasure with me, young Roland," I warned. "I remember a time when you would tend to a bit of unauthorized exploring yourself."
His demeanor changed quickly. "Yes, Riktuu," he responded begrudgingly with a hint of a smirk. "I suppose that is true. A child's mind is constantly searching for the next adventure." Roland reached around and patted my shoulder. "Come, my friend. Let's see what my wife has drummed up for us this evening."
The two of us, human and kaldorei, had a laugh at this and walked to the cabin for our evening meal.
We entered the abode to the tantalizing aroma of perfectly seasoned roast mutton being prepared by Roland's wife, Andiena. My stomach began to rumble at the thought of the banquet I was about to enjoy. However, having taken my first step through the threshold, I was halted dead in my tacks.
"Oh no you don't!" A voice screamed from the kitchen. "Not another step into my home until you ground those ghastly things."
This brought a strong bellied laugh from Roland. "Better do what she says," he teased. "Or no mutton for you."
It was Andiena, of course, referring to my bow, and quiver full of arrows draped across my back. As I removed the weapons I felt compelled to speak up defensively. "You do realize," I responded, "that if not for ghastly things such as these, many of your favorite meals would be impossible."
"That may be," she yelled back. "But that does not mean they need to be brandished in the family domicile."
Realizing this was one battle I would not win, I spoke no more of it. placing the bow and quiver on the floor, I entered the main living area.
"Oomie," Roland called, "time to eat, child."
Immediately, Andiena answered for her. "She won’t hear you, Rol," she said. "I sent her out to the water barrel."
"For what purpose, dear?"
"Did you even look at your daughter?" Andiena answered. "She was filthy. Sticky berry juice mixed with dirt and grime. She needed a good once over in the barrel before coming in here. By the time you two set the table, she'll be back."
Roland and I exchanged glances as well as our unspoken understanding. The woman may be a young housewife, but there was no arguing who ran the residence.
By the time the table was properly laid, however, Oomie had still not returned. Several minutes had passed which should have been ample enough time to rinse in the barrel, and finish up thoroughly in the wash room. Although not overly concerned, I suggested to Roland that I go and fetch her.
Stepping into the evening air, I expected the sweet scent of the blooming Tiger Lilies. Instead, I caught faint odor of smoke from a westward wind. Acting instinctively, I ran toward the source. It was then that I saw, up in the sky, the unmistakable vision. Arrows. Hundreds of burning arrows, trailing smoke in their wake and headed for the camp. We were under attack.
As I observed the approaching arrows, I noted their trajectory. They were not directed at the camp’s inhabitants, but rather its industry. The roof of the lumber storage barn was the target and there was no way to stop it.
I turned again and saw our opposition swiftly closing in. It was Horde. Several races of Horde affiliates on various mounts. But there was something else in the wave of forces. Not on mounts but rather, crawling along at an unusually rapid pace.
“Rik, are you seeing this?”
It was Roland, standing beside me in wide eyed bewilderment. He’d gotten Oomie from the barrel and had her now directly behind him, shielding her as best he could with his arms. Obviously, he’d observed the same thing I had. Scourge. It was an oddity I never thought I’d see. Two completely separate factions moving as one. From my vantage point, it appeared as though a giant plague was spreading quickly across the valley. As I pondered the meaning of this bizarre pairing of forces, the burning arrows rained upon their objective. The lumber barn immediately burst into flames. An entire year of blood and sweat from the laborers of the Blue Sky Lumber Camp, gone in mere seconds. Roland watched as the product of his efforts rapidly turned to ash.
“Why?” He asked passionately. “Why us? We’re such a small outpost. We’re not soldiers here. We’re helpless.”
Roland was right. There was no tactical advantage for the Horde to take our camp. And certainly no need for Scourge assistance. Why us, indeed, I thought.
I stood at the ready with Roland by my side. There were other men with us as well. None fighters, but brave men all the same. With no armor and no weapons we stood, prepared for the worst.
As our attackers neared the camp, they began to slow. Soon they were less than a stones throw from where Roland and I stood. They halted at our commons in a well positioned formation. A tauren mounted on his kodo beast advanced and spoke aloud in perfect common speak.
“Who speaks on behalf of this establishment?” he asked.
Creech Sutter stepped forward. As the main director of the lumber camp, he was the most qualified to answer this question. “I do,” he answered.
“Humans,” the tauren uttered in obvious disgust. “You have something we need, human. If you let us take it, we will leave peacefully. If you oppose us, you will all die. And I promise it will not be painless.”
“What is it you could possibly want from us?” Creech asked. “You’ve destroyed our entire supply for the year. We’ve nothing left.”
The tauren waved his hand passively. Acknowledging the signal, another tauren lazily drew back his bow and let an arrow fly into the chest of our flight master, Sven Ecrof. I watched helplessly as Sven slowly kneeled to the ground in agonizing pain.
“Are there any more questions?” the first tauren inquired.
At this no one spoke.
“Very well then,” the tauren said in response to the silence. He raised his hand again and this time gave a different signal. Nothing happened. I looked around the camp hoping to discern the signals meaning. Soon enough, I picked up on the faint sound of flapping wings from above. Looking up, I saw the unmistakable outline of a wyvern, ridden by an unscrupulous blood elf. A cousin of my race, though most would fail to admit it. He glided over head for a moment then went into a dive directly for me. I stood ready for what this blood elf had in store, but soon realized that I was not his intended target. Was it Roland? I couldn’t tell. When the realization struck me I lunged forward in a feeble attempt to grab her. To my horror, it was too late.
“OOMIE!” I screamed.
The blood elf swooped down and seized little Oomie by the wrist, lifting her right out from under her father’s protective arms. Up and up, I watched as the wyvern flew out of sight. With rage I turned back to the tauren.
“Where are you taking her?” I shouted, forgetting the gross advantage these invaders had over us.
The tauren again signaled his soldiers. The sounds of creaking bows quickly reminded me of the might of our enemy. Knowing my actions could easily prompt an aggressive attack on all the innocent people of this humble camp, I backed off.
“Then we understand each other,” the tauren said. And with that, he signaled his army to depart. Soon, they were gone as swiftly as they had come.
Men began to scatter all around the camp. Some went to tend to the injuries of Sven Ecrof, others ran in a feeble attempt to put out the fire at the lumber barn. Roland and I stood motionless, rooted in the midst of chaos as men scrambled to try and save what they could of the Blue Sky Lumber Camp. For us, there was nothing left worth saving. Oomie. Taken from us in an instant. So we stood. Stood as stone for what seemed like an eternity.
When I’d finally gotten my wits about me, I turned towards the cabin. Roland followed but at the time I had not noticed. I entered the domicile and saw Roland’s wife. The look on her face told me that she knew what had happened, though she had not been out there to see it. She managed to utter a question as to what happened, but fell to the floor without the answer being given. She could feel it. The emptiness. The sorrow.
I retrieved my bow and quiver from the front entrance. Roland stood over me as I shouldered them.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Stay with your wife,” I answered. “She will need you now more than ever.”
“No,” he responded. “She’s my daughter. If you have a plan, I’m going to be part of it.”
I looked up at Roland’s face. It was hard and determined. Slowly, I nodded my head.
“Come,” I finally said. “I’ll explain on the way.”
PART II
The Horde enlisting help from the Scourge made no sense to me. Blue Sky is a defenseless little compound and surely the Horde would have known that such a vast attack force was complete overkill. But then, this was no ordinary attack. They came in with precision, knowing exactly who they wanted and how to get her. Oomie. I would have fought to the death for her, as would Roland I’m sure. They hit us in a way that would ensure I not dare oppose them. They could have killed us all. They knew I would not sacrifice the entire camp population.
My immediate thought was to head to SI:7 headquarters. If there was any intel concerning this association between the Scourge and the Horde, they would have it. I’d heard through the normal channels that Pathonia had retired, leaving her grandson in charge. Nepotism aside, I couldn’t argue her choice. Mathias was brilliant, even in his younger days.
Roland had grown up hearing the stories of his father and me. The adventures we’d had and the missions we’d accomplished. He’d enjoyed them immensely as a boy, but as he matured he began to look at them as fairy tales. He’d decided a hard earned living as a logger was a much more respectable profession for a husband and father than that of a warrior. Not that I was disappointed. I had been beyond proud of the man he’d become, as would his father I’m sure. Now he had insisted, like any father would, to accompany me on this mission to find Oomie. The man was strong and full of spirit, and I had no doubt that he could hew foes in battle as well as he chopped timber. He would soon understand, however, that the exploits of his father and I were far from fairy tales. After all, trees never fight back but the Horde certainly will.
SI:7 headquarters was in
The nearest portal equipped city was Dalaran. With Sven severely wounded, flight paths out of Blue Sky were currently closed. Over the years, I’d learned how to saddle my own gryphs, so borrowing from Sven’s roost wasn’t unusual. Roland, lacking flying experience of his own, rode on the hind of my gryph and we arrived in Dalaran in no time at all.
You can never truly adjust to portal travel. There is always a slight disorientation and feeling of nausea after stepping through. Living in Northrend, traveling via portal is a common occurrence since it is a much quicker mode of transportation than traveling by sea. As Roland and I apparated into the
Generally, it would take a great deal of trust for a kaldorei to release a sacred nightsaber to a human. But as I approached the enclave, I recognized my old friend Rahza and knew that mistrust would not be an issue.
“Riktuu?” she asked. “Riktuu is that you?”
“Rahza,” I responded, “how wonderful to see you.”
Smiling brightly, Rahza looked to Roland. “This can’t be little Roland?” she inquired. “Not so little anymore I see. Where does the time go?”
“Time is something we don’t have much of, I’m afraid,” I explained. “We are in need of transportation to Shadowglen.”
Rahza could sense the urgency in my voice and realized today was not the day to ruminate on years past. “Of course, Rik, of course,” she said assuringly. “Roland, do you recall how to handle a nightsaber?”
Roland reached out to stroke one of the majestic creatures. “It had been a while,” he answered, “but I’m sure I can manage.”
“Then take them,” she said. “I trust them to your capable hands.”
Nodding gratefully I reached for my money pouch.
“None of that, old friend,” Rahza warned, pointing at my purse. “I will not have it. I said take them and that means take them. Your coins do not serve me.”
I bowed in extreme gratitude. “Thank you, Rahza, Godess watch over you.”
“And you,” she answered. “Be safe in your journeys.”
With that, Roland and I saddled up and rode east toward Shadowglen.
It was just west of Dolanaar when we had our first taste of opposition. Roland noticed as I slowed considerably along the roadway.
“Why are we stopping?” he asked. Lacking my sensing ability, he had not noticed the swarm of harpies approaching from the north. However, he noticed them well enough when they had us surrounded.
“Look vicious, don’t they?” I asked sarcastically. “Must be breeding season.”
“Uh, Rik?” Roland asked. By this point he’d noticed the danger. Not to mention the fact that I’d stepped off the path allowing the harpies a better view. “Riktuu?” he asked again.
“I’m here,” I finally answered. “If you need me.”
“If I need you?” Roland yelled. “Are you joking?”
“I’d grab that axe if I were you,” I warned. “Rule number one. Fighting multiple adversaries without a weapon is not a wise move.”
Catching on, Roland grabbed his axe and dismounted. “Oh great,” he said. “A test. I was wondering when you were gonna spring this on me.”
Roland stood ready. I watched as the head harpy studied him carefully, probably contemplating his abilities. Soon enough, her study was complete and she dove at Roland howling an ear piercing screech. As she moved, the others joined in a swarm. Roland defended himself with the best of his ability. He was holding his own quite well but I had to cringe at some of the blows he was taking.
“It’s best to try not to get hit,” I coached. “Especially with your lack of armor.”
“Yeah,” Roland answered angrily, “thanks for that.”
Roland handled his axe with extreme skill. He swung with precision as opposed to blind and sporadic attacks. When I felt he’d had enough, I decided to join the fight. Casually, I nocked an arrow onto my bowstring. A precise hit dropped the head harpy with a thud. Finally noticing me, two others dove at my location. With no sword in my possession, I drew another arrow. Improvising my terrorshaft as a dagger, I jabbed at the oncoming harpies. One, not seeing my arrow, dove at me and impaled herself upon my arrowhead. The second was a bit more intelligent. She clawed at me while keeping out of the shafts range. With little effort, I took my bow and lassoed it around the harpy’s neck. Pulling her within reach of my arrow, I plunged it deeply into her heart. Immediately, she fell to the earth.
There were seven harpies total. Roland had successfully dispatched two on his own, while I took out three others. Noticing their dwindling numbers, the remaining two fled from the road in fear. I looked to Roland to see how he was holding up.
“Are you well, Roland?” I asked. “In need of a bandage perhaps?”
Roland glowered. “I’m fine,” he said. And without another word remounted his nightsaber and pressed on eastward. Chuckling softly, I followed his lead.
We stopped in Dolanaar for a bite to eat and to give Roland a chance to rest up after his first battle. He seemed quite upset with me but I found his method of showing it a bit humorous. His eyes shot me evil looks over his bowl of hot bean soup. Feigning innocence, I finally broke the silence by asking what was troubling him.
“I understand that I am new to battle,” he answered. “But it seems bad form to throw me to the wolves like you did. I might have done better had there been warning. Maybe I’d have even taken them all on my own.”
As a teacher, I did not feel it necessary to explain my actions. As a guardian, however, I decided I should.
I stared at him a good moment while I chewed on my bit of cornbread. When I’d felt enough silence had past for him to control his anger, I spoke. “Have I every told you the story of the rogue and the warrior?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered impatiently.
I closed my eyes momentarily to avoid commenting at his impertinence. “I once knew a brave and cunning warrior who went by the name Marlon. Marlon was strong and incredibly skilled with a blade. But he had one extreme weakness that nobody was able to rectify.” I could tell Roland was beginning to lose his patience because he rolled his eyes at my words. Unconcerned, I continued. “Marlon was nearly incapable of carrying out solo missions. We were hard pressed to find an SI:7 assignment he would attempt without the aid of another agent. Now in many cases, teamwork is highly encouraged and I will be the first to say that there is safety in numbers. But anyone worth their weight needs to have the ability to hold their own in a fight. One day while assigned to Honor Hold in Draenor, Marlon was attacked by a rogue blood elf while exploring the Path of Glory. Marlon was completely taken by surprise and the rogue took his life in mere minutes.” Roland’s face told me he was beginning to see my point by now. “Your father and I caught up to him just moments too late. Marlon had just enough breath to whisper one thing before he passed on. Care to guess what his final utterance was?”
“I don’t have to guess, Rik,” Roland answered solemnly. “But just say it anyway. After that build up, I’m sure you’re dying to say it.”
I shrugged at Roland’s comment, and chuckled at the fact that he was absolutely right. “He said, ‘I wasn’t ready.’”
Roland nodded to signify his guess was correct.
“Roland you were safe during that battle. Those harpies did not stand a chance against me. I stepped aside to give you the experience you needed to be useful to me. Oomie is your daughter, and I will not deny you the right to go after her. But I also made a promise to you father that entails keeping you alive. Dragging you into a battle with this hybrid Horde/Scourge army without any experience is not a good way to keep that promise. Giving you warning that you were about to go into battle would not be very realistic, and me doing most of the fighting for you would have taught you little if not nothing at all.”
Roland nodded in acknowledgement. I could tell he was beginning to understand my methods. I had taught him fighting moves and techniques since he was a small child so the idea of using a weapon in combat was no stranger to him. It was the practical application he needed to learn now. A fact he was beginning to understand.
After lunch, we continued toward Shadowglen. It was obvious to me that Roland had more on his mind. “What are your thoughts, Roland?” I asked.
“Something that always puzzled me,” he answered. “I don’t know why I never asked before. I guess it was never a big deal, but suddenly it seems very important.”
“Okay,” I said. “ask.”
“My father was a paladin,” Roland stated. “You are a hunter. How could you have worked for SI:7?”
It was the question I knew would come one day. Over the years I had spoken freely to Roland concerning the exploits of Bethol and me. His father was taken from him so early in life, I felt it was his right to know why. I’d prepared for this answer years ago and answered him confidently. “As you know, SI:7 is predominately a covert society of rogues. The success of their missions rely mostly on speed and stealth. My group was a special task force meant to be a brutal and forceful arm of the
“So what was the code name?” he asked.
My plan was to take Roland into SI:7 and reinstate my team. If I wanted Roland to be a part of that, it seemed reasonable enough to tell him our name. I didn’t have a problem logically, but speaking the word proved quite difficult. It was a phrase I hadn’t uttered…hadn’t thought of, since the death of my friend. The death of Bethol.
“Our name,” I finally answered, “was Rebel.”
The rest of the ride into Shadowglen was uneventful. I’d never quite gotten over the feeling of riding through the land of my childhood. Area’s where I learned how to defend myself, that had once seemed frightening and menacing, now looked small and non-threatening. Instructing Roland to lead the way north, I allowed him to fight our path through to the caves. The giant spiders indigenous to this area would not take much of an effort to defeat, even for the most novice of fighters. Nevertheless, it was good practice for the young human. When we arrived at the mouth of the cave, I allowed him a break.
“You handle your axe well,” I encouraged.
“Yes,” Roland answered, tending to his blade. “I only wish living opponents were not quite this messy. Even tree sap does not create as sticky a mess as this spider goo.” He flicked a large glop of this goo off his blade as he spoke.
“Yes,” I laughed loudly. “Spider ichor. Something I’d never been able to get used to. Disgusting to collect, but quite tasty in sausage.”
“What do you think Andiena would say to this,” Roland asked. “As much as she loves cooking, could you imagine her attitude toward the collection of the ingredients?”
I laughed heartedly at the thought. “You know,” I answered, “I’d done quite a bit of recipe collecting in my day. Life wasn’t always military related. Many cooks hate the nasty business of collecting. They leave it to the hunters. For the most part, I do enjoy the task. Beasts were always a sporty foe. It’s always the intelligent, humanoid type beings that are the most difficult to fight. Especially the blood elves, very close cousins to the kaldorei, you know? But in war…” I trailed off a bit as I spoke. Roland seemed to understand why and did not ask me to elaborate any further. “Shall we go?” I finally asked.
Roland patted my shoulder and stood up. “Yes,” he answered. “How far into the cave is this chest of yours?”
“Where else,” I answered. “All the way.”
I extended my hand, gesturing him to lead the way. Roland sighed at this and entered the cave.
Obviously, we had met with many more spiders inside the cave. The opposition thickened the deeper we went, but Roland seemed to hold his own well. I did my part keeping him safe when things got too rough, but for the most part, he fought solely.
Before long we’d reached the farthest region of the cave. The area was dark, and there was a pungent damp and musty smell in the air. I removed my key from the pouch and held it flat in my hand. Studying the object, I reflected upon how long it had been since I locked this chest and left it here to be forgotten. At the time, I’d thought about selling this gear but could never bring myself to do so. I supposed it came down to a sixth sense telling me I may need to wear this gear again one day. Feeling I’d given this moment enough dramatic flavor, I unlocked the chest. My armor glowed in the darkened cavern. Roland stood by as I donned it piece by piece. I finalized this moment by raising my sword over my head and allowed the gleam to add an unnatural light to the otherwise gloomy cave. At first, the two-handed blade felt heavy in my hand. Not awkward, but heavy. But after two or three slices through the empty air, it began to feel as familiar as it ever did. I slid the weapon into the sheath draped behind my quiver. Fully equipped in the gear of my younger days, I had a feeling of completeness unfelt for twenty years. I was whole again.
“Okay,” I finally said, addressing Roland with a voice of authority I’d long forgotten I had. “Now, it’s your turn.”
PART III
From Auberdean, we took a boat into
Other than the addition of the docks, Stormwind wasn’t all that different. The smell of fine foods from various street vendors filled the air and brought back many memories of past days here. Sounds of laughter and young children at play brought a familiar feel to my heart. It felt good to be here, despite the circumstances that brought us.
The first order of business was to fit Roland with some quality equipment. We rode directly into the Trade District and tied up our nightsabers. I looked around some of the shops but could not find anything that would truly serve our purpose. Ultimately, I decided the auction house would be the best way to go. Twenty minutes later with Roland’s core a bit heavier, and my purse considerably lighter, we emerged from the auction house with Roland sporting the best set of chain mail I could find. We now looked like two proper soldiers of the
The location of SI:7 headquarters was no secret. It’s in
Upon arrival, I knocked three times on the metal door. Knowing of their existence, I felt the watchers staring at me as I waited for the doorman to answer.
Doorman was simply a term used for the position but did not refer to a specific gender. I was reminded of this fact when the hatch in the door slid open and I heard a female voice answer.
“State your business, night elf.” The woman demanded. I could barely see her eyes, but from her voice I suspected her to be gnomish.
“We seek an audience with Master Mathias Shaw,” I answered.
“I have never heard of this name you speak,” she answered. “Leave the area before we are forced to take action. You will not be warned again.”
The gnome slid the hatch shut. After coming all this way, I was not going to leave without the answers I sought. Again I knocked. As I suspected, several rogues of assorted races appeared behind Roland and I. One, a human, appeared between us, holding a dagger at each of our throats. Instinctively, Roland began to reach for his axe.
“Don’t move,” I uttered urgently, and Roland obeyed.
“One warning is all you receive,” said the human. “You will now be escorted to Stormwind’s gate. There will be no leniency for actions of resistance. Any movement that deviates from our course will be met with force. Move along.”
“Gambit!” I shouted. I knew this to be an old password, and long since discarded. But hopefully, it would get the attention of Mathias.
The human motioned to one of his associates, who in turn vanished into the shadows. My hope was that he would fetch Mathias to clear us from this predicament.
Soon my hope was realized and the front door clanked open. Mathias Shaw, no longer the boy I once knew, stood influentially in the doorway. To my relief, and Roland’s too I’m sure, Mathias motioned our captures to release us. The rouge watchers sheathed their daggers, and instead of escorting us out of town, they escorted us inside.
We were taken to Mathias’ office. When Mathias nodded that he was safe in our company, the rogue watchers left us. Upon their exit, Mathias finally spoke.
“Riktuu,” he said casually, “what are the grounds for this startling pleasure?” Before I had a chance to answer, Mathias spoke again. “With use of a twenty year expired password no less.”
“I am in great need of a favor Mathias,” I answered boldly.
“A favor?” Mathias asked. “You could have been killed you old fool. What possible favor is worth your life?”
“It’s Bethol’s granddaughter,” I answered.
This was met with silence. I was sure the name Bethol had not been uttered within these walls in many years.
After a dramatic pause, Mathias allowed a hearty laugh. “Bethol’s offspring you say?” he confirmed. “Of course, I should have known.” Addressing Roland, he continued, “and that would most likely make you Roland, correct?”
Roland simply nodded.
Mathias smiled and readdressed me, “So tell me, Rik, what is the nature of this favor?”
The smile slowly disappeared from Mathias’ face as I explained the situation. The attack on Blue Sky, the kidnapping of Oomie, and of course, the joint union between Horde and Scourge.
Mathias nodded his head. “I see. I was wondering when this would begin effecting outreaching areas.”
“You knew about this?” I asked.
“We’ve known about various Horde factions making use of the Scourge on several occasions as of late. However, to what end or advantage, we haven’t been able to determine,” Mathias explained. “We do have a name that seems to surface in the center of all our investigations. Melcor. We believe him to be a death knight from the information we’ve gathered so far. What his motives are for building this vast army, we don’t know. The kidnapping of this child seems to raise more questions than it does answers. Thank you for bringing this to our attention Riktuu. You’ve been a great ally to us as always.”
At this, Roland sprang to his feet. “Wait a second!” he shouted.
“I assure you, we will do all we can to get to the bottom of this situation,” Mathias said.
As Mathias motioned to us the way out, I stood up to address him. “Wait friend Mathias,” I implored him. “If you think we came all this way just to give you information, you are sadly mistaken. I want to know where to start looking for little Oomie. I know you have knowledge on possible locations for this Melcor. I want what you know.”
Mathias sat silent for a moment. Finally, realizing I had always been loyal to the secrecy of SI:7, he began to tell me what he knew.
“There has been a great deal of activity around Arathi,” he explained. “Operatives at Refuge Point have made reports that small recon teams consisting of a mixed company of Horde and Scourge have been coming and going through Hammerfall. We believe that Melcor is operating somewhere around that location. We’ve been monitoring this area heavily, but have not gained sufficient enough information to move in. At least not yet.”
“Thank you, Mathias,” I said. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Now, let me return the favor.”
As I opened the door, Mathias asked, “Come on, Rik, what do you honestly believe you can accomplish on your own?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I answered.
“Seriously, what is your plan?” he asked sarcastically. “You gonna recommission the Rebel’s?”
I did not answer, but the grin on my face was enough to give him the response he asked for.
“Well then,” he said, “you’re gonna need this.” With that, Mathias Shaw, grandson of my old friend Pathonia Shaw, tossed me an unmistakable object. Catching it in mid air, I knew what it was without opening my hand. I nodded at Mathias and walked out of his office, slipping the SI:7 commission ring on my finger as I departed. I was appreciative that Mathias agreed to endorse my goal, but I would have gone on with or without the blessing of SI:7. Now, it was time to locate some old friends.
The idea of a death knight uniting the two factions made perfect sense to me and I couldn’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Whoever this Melcor was, I was worried about his motives for creating such a vast army. Beyond that, what would be his purpose for attacking such a small, non-military outpost, and taking a defenseless little girl like Oomie.
To contact my team, there was only one place to start. As a priest, Moryaa kept herself centrally located to give any Rebel the ability to seek her out should she be needed. Moryaa was a draenei and very loyal to the
When she answered her door, she stood before me as beautiful as I had remembered. Unfortunately, she didn’t seem to share my excitement for our reunion. She greeted me with a stern look and a slap across the face.
“Eighteen years, Rik?” she yelled. “Eighteen years and you just show up as if I saw you yesterday?”
She opened her mouth as if to yell again, but stopped herself when she noticed Roland at my side.
“Roland?” she asked excitedly. “Little Roland? It can’t be.”
Naturally, Roland had virtually no memory of this woman. He was about seven when last he’d seen her, and childhood memories can disappear as quickly as a refreshing breeze if not revisited once in a while.
“Please,” Roland pleaded, “we gravely need your help. My daughter has been taken.”
Moryaa looked back to me. “Daughter? Bethol has a granddaughter and you never—?” Realizing now was not the appropriate time to scold me, Moryaa’s demeanor returned to that of a professional. “What happened?”
“It was some new hybrid army of Horde and Scourge,” I explained. “They came to Blue Sky and took Oomie right out from under us. We were powerless to stop them.”
Moryaa looked down at my finger and noticed the ring. Looking me in the eye she motioned toward town. “Okay,” she nodded. Obviously she knew what I had come to her for. “Let’s go.”
Convincing the remaining Rebels to pick up arms and fight again wasn’t going to be easy. I knew that after twenty years people get rusty no matter how good they are. I didn’t know how right I was, however, until I took a step into
“Care for a pint?” the keep asked.
Raising a palm, I shook my head. “Stay your poison, keep,” I responded. “I can see what it does to your loyal patrons.”
The innkeeper gave me a surly look, but I ignored him and proceeded through the pub. Near the fireplace, I saw the reason Moryaa had brought me here. I glanced at her and she shrugged her shoulders in return. I walked closer to the heap of human body sloppily draped over the table.
“Up you get, sir,” I commanded, nudging the man with my boot. “You’ve had more than enough, I’d say.”
“Uhh,” the man responded. “Leave me be.”
Looking around the establishment, I spied a mop bucket near the bar filled with soapy water, which I felt perfect for my needs. Picking up the bucket I raised it over the drunk’s head.
With a worried look, Rolan cried, “look Rik, maybe you shouldn’t—”
I silenced Roland with a raised hand. Then, without a word of warning, dowsed the drunk with the lukewarm liquid. The man sprung onto his feet instantly.
“Wha…what the devil was that?” the man yelled.
Suddenly, a woman rounded the corner from the kitchen, another human I knew well.
“What the devil are you doing to my—” the woman stopped abruptly when she saw me. “Riktuu? Riktuu!” she yelled and ran to me with open arms. “How long have you been in town?”
Wiping the water from his face, the drunk finally spoke. “Rik? Is it really you?”
I placed my hands on the shoulders of my two old friends. Malek seemed pleased that someone finally roused her husband out of his drunken stupor. Kicca, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be enjoying standing in the middle of the
Malek was grinning ear to ear. “Follow me,” she answered.
Malek lead us to her and Kicca’s room where I briefed them all on our current predicament. Feeling compelled to help the family of our fallen comrade and leader, all three were on board with the mission. While Malek and Kicca began telling Roland stories of my less civilized days, Moryaa pulled me into the hall where we could have a moment alone.
She kissed me passionately, then slapped me with equal emotion. “How could you stay away after all these years, Rik? Then come back, carefree, and have the audacity to ask for help. I understand this is Bethol’s family but—”
“The fault goes both ways, Moryaa, “I interrupted. “It’s not like you didn’t know where to find me.”
Moryaa huffed but said nothing to counter my point.
“You were the one unwilling to let go,” I continued. “I made a promise to Bethol and I stuck with it. When Roland’s mother died, I decided to remove him from all this. You could have come with me to Teldrassil. Then, when Roland decided to become a logger rather than a warrior, I kept you informed on where we could be found. You chose not to leave. You stayed with the Rebels till they were decommissioned. After Bethol was gone, the only thing I had to fight for was his family. You chose a separate mission, and that wasn’t my fault.”
Moryaa stared at the floor, not speaking. I was ready for her retort, inserting the last word and ignoring my point. When she finally did speak, however, it was in the form of a question, not an argument. “So who are we recruiting next?” To that, I knew just the answer.
Leaving Roland with Malek and Kicca, Moryaa and I headed out to Lakeshire. Last Moryaa had known, Lorn had moved out that way. And we both knew wherever we found Lorn, we’d find Frizz and Tule. Sure enough, we found them, together on the dock of
“Of course I had a bit less of a belly in those days,” Lorn explained. “But the point is, we didn’t back down for nothin, did we Frizz?”
“Nope not us,” Frizz agreed.
“So we headed out to Honor Hold and found Captain Flenehey,” Lorn continued. “And do you know what I said?”
“I’m dying to hear,” I interrupted.
In unison, my three friends turned their heads. I cringed when I heard their old necks crack in the process.
“Riktuu?” They shouted. They looked to me, Moryaa, then back at each other. Lorn stood up and slapped my shoulder. Handing his pole to one of the youths on the dock, he said, “Catch a big one for me, Tommy. We’ve got some catching up to do with this old dog.” And with that, the five of us walked off.
So far, things were coming together better than I could have dreamed. Of the remaining Rebels, I’d been able to recruit six. And not a one of them needed a bit of convincing. They’d lay down their lives for the sake of Bethol just as quickly today as they would have twenty years ago. Just as Bethol had laid down his life for all of us. Now, there was only one Rebel left to locate. And for this one, the convincing part would not come easy.
From what I’d heard, Spach had become bitter over the years. The death of Bethol had affected him to the same degree as it did the rest of us, but in his case, it just gave him more of a reason to fight. When the Rebels disbanded, Spach blamed me. Although the Rebels lasted two more years following Bethol’s death, Spach always felt that I should have stayed on to keep us together. To him, revenge meant everything.
We found Spach living peacefully as an armor merchant in Thelsamar. We, as a group, hoped to convince him to join us in one last fight. As I walked into his shop, it appeared that he was content in his retirement years. I thought that perhaps his lust for vengeance had disappeared and I would be greeted warmly. When he saw me, however, his smile died quickly.
“Oh no,” he groaned loudly. Then noticing the rest of us, his protest got even louder. “Oh, you’re kidding! All of you?”
His reaction was almost comical and I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. “The Rebels need you, Spach,” I stated.
“Take a number,” he answered. “So do all the people in Loch Modan.” As he spoke, he noticed Roland.
Spach’s eyes told Roland the man suspected who he was. “My name is Roland,” he confirmed. “Yes, Bethol was my father. My daughter has been kidnapped by Horde, we need your help to rescue her.”
“Not just Horde,” I interjected. “The Horde has joined forces with the Scourge. They have combined in some hybrid army. We can’t retrieve Bethol’s granddaughter without you.”
I watched as Spach contemplated what we told him. For a moment I thought he was going to turn us away, but at last he spoke.
“Okay,” he muttered with a sigh. “Let’s go to work.”
Good old Spach. He can be as stubborn as the bitterest mule. Being kaldorei like me, he can live long enough to hold grudges for multiple human lifetimes. But his honor remained truer than his anger, and the Rebels were together again.
Part IV
Mathias set us up with a contact at Refuge Pointe. The SI:7 operative, who remained nameless to us, led us out to the foothills just south of Hammerfall. SI:7 had a small observation post there where we were to map out our insertion. The operative left us alone to plan and we began discussing strategy. As I was listening to Lorn give his input, I heard a loud growling noise from behind. We all turned at once to see a large rapture towering over our observation post. Immediately, Malek grabbed her sword, but I stopped her. Spach traveled with his attack spider and it got me thinking that an extra fighter might tip our odds. I stood up and cautiously moved toward the large dino. I held my hand up to his mouth and he sniffed it. He snapped at my arm and I drew back slightly. Slowly, I walked circles around the raptor as it’s beady eyes followed my hand. I hummed a low pitch tone knowing that it would make the dino sleepy. His fierce snaps at me became less and less ferocious with each attack. Before long, I could tell I had him completely under my control. I pulled out a slice of ham steak I had wrapped in my sack and the raptor gobbled it greedily.
“That’s it, boy,” I said. “That’s it.”
Smiling at my team, I introduced the newest member of the Rebels. “Everyone,” I announced, “this is Floyd.”
Tule looked at me impatiently. “Does everything have to be a production with you?” he asked. “Big deal, you picked up a pet. Now quit showboating and come plan out this insertion with the rest of us.”
The others all had a laugh at Tule’s comment, at my expense of course. I had to admit, though, I could see the humor. I did what I was told and joined the party, my new pet at my side.
As we studied the area, it was obvious that the town was overpopulated with Horde. None of them appeared too difficult to defeat, not for the Rebels. But the thought of wasting our time fighting these insignificant minions felt like a waste of time. It was then Roland saw her. Oomie. She was being moved unceremoniously by a filthy Orc. Orc’s, the very creatures who enlisted help from the kaldorei and the humans against the Burning Legion and then betrayed us all. I will always rank them the most disgraceful of the Horde collective. I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach as my anger grew. It was time to end this. I knew what we had to do.
Oomie was safe for the moment, and although I felt relieved, time seemed more pressing than ever. We returned to Refuge Point where I requested permission from the battle master to enter
As we advanced, I could feel my long repressed bloodlust begin to emerge. It was intoxicating and gave me a sense of renewed spirit I hadn’t experienced in years. Spach and I, with our keen vision, could see troop movement miles down into the belly of the basin. The Horde knew we were here and were coming to meet us.
“Rebels,” I ordered, “MOVE!”
Mounted and ready, we rode into fray, meeting with Scourge soldiers first. Their soft bodies fell with ease and they took little effort to get through. The Scourge had always relied on mass numbers over skill or might. Knowing this fact going in gave us the advantage as we hewed them down like weeds. Before long, I heard the first clang of metal on metal. We’d gotten to the Horde and the battle was truly on.
The Rebels fought bravely as always and we were felling our enemies with skill and honor. With Spach’s spider friend and my dino, Floyd, holding our opposition at bay, our arrows flew as true as they ever had into the weakest points of our enemies bodies. Lorn, and the other melee fighters, though older in years, wielded their blades with the skill and accuracy of their younger days. Moryaa and Tule, their immense skills in healing as sharp as they ever were, kept us all fit for the fight. And then there was Roland. Young Roland who I’d seen grow from the smallest child to a strapping young man with a child of his own. Roland swung his axe with a force and might that would undoubtedly have made his father proud.
Effortlessly, Spach and I, with our loyal pets of course, kept the slow and sloppy Scourge off the others as they skillfully went blade for blade with the Horde warriors. Occasionally, I would sense a Horde archer in the distance. Cowardly as always, they fought from afar in the safety of their concealment. When I’d spot one, I’d send Floyd to flush them out of hiding, and send my arrow to finish them when they showed their spineless heads.
In the deepest heat of the battle, with my bow string drawn, I found myself frozen in place. From my peripheral vision, I could see it wasn’t just me, but the entire battle had frozen. And suddenly, the battleground vanished. At least that was how it seemed from my perspective. I soon realized, however, that it was I who vanished. Me and Roland, pulled from the battle by some unknown force and placed…where? I did not know. Roland and I stood, side by side in a bright room, resembling a palace audience chamber. The transportation was a bit blinding at first, but soon I was able to make out an image in front of me. After a bit of a strain, I could see two silhouettes, one large and one small. It immediately occurred to me that the images were of Melcor and little Oomie.
As my vision improved, I could see the chamber more clearly. There were no windows. The chamber was lit by some type of glowing pedestal between Oomie and the death knight. Oomie seemed unharmed and conscious, but somehow not completely cognizant. Melcor was at the pedestal holding some ornate ceremonial dagger in his hand. Oomie didn’t look to be in any immediate danger because whatever the death night had planed, it was apparently disturbed by our arrival.
“Why have you come?” the death knight asked.
At this Roland answered. “You took my baby. You will pay.”
Melcor placed the dagger on the pedestal and took one step closer. “Your…baby,” he repeated. “YOUR BABY?” The death night’s voice boomed throughout the room. After his echo subsided, he continued, “how interesting.”
Melcor took two more steps toward us and removed his helmet. When I saw his face, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The features were cold, hardened, and extremely pale but the identity was unmistakable.
“BETHOL!”
It was him. Bethol, leader of the Rebels, my friend, my brother. Transformed into a death knight. I couldn’t believe it.
“Never use that name in my presents,” he commanded. “After years spent searching for the identity of my living spirit, hearing the name tries my patience to no end.”
Roland looked ill. “Why, father?” he asked. “How could you?” Looking beyond his father, Roland noticed Oomie behind him. I followed his gaze and saw her as well. She stood unbound, and appeared to be recovering from whatever trance the death knight had held her in.
Melcor, Bethol that was, stared at us blankly. “Do you understand the power of living blood?” he asked. “Do you know the power you have pulsing through your ignorant veins?”
Not knowing how to respond, Roland and I remained silent.
“As a death knight, I wield great power,” he continued. “But not great enough to resist my master. The Lich King tricks us into his world, promising to fulfill the greatest desires of our living spirit in exchange for eternal slavery. But the fool made a grave error by allowing me to learn the secret to overthrowing him.”
Roland and I looked at each other. “Arthas,” I uttered.
“With living blood from the offspring of my living spirit, I can gain incredible power. With such power, I can destroy the Lich King and rule in his place. I had begun the process when your pitiful toy soldiers arrived. You have interrupted my ritual.”
Roland raised his axe at his estranged father. “You will not shed a drop of blood from my child as long as I have breath in my lungs.”
Melcor laughed loudly. “Your threat means nothing to me, boy,” he answered. “But I accept your challenge. The child is once removed. Your blood, however, is more direct, more potent. Finding you was exhausting, but when I finally did, I chose to take the youngling. I knew it would be a quick and easy campaign to attack such a small outpost. No weapons, not even a guard. The vastness of my army ensured there was no opposition. Grabbing the child was quick, and her blood would be sufficient enough for my purposes. Seizing you, however, would have caused more effort. Not much, of course. I’m sure you know how easily my army could have wiped out your entire camp. But now things have changed. You have come to me. I couldn’t have planned it this well if I tried. The blood of the grandchild would have made me powerful. The blood of the son will make me unstoppable.”
As I listened to this explanation, I felt helpless. If what Melcor said was true, the
“Grandfather?” It was Oomie. Her voice, previously so small and distant, now strong and full of presence. We looked to her. She had her arm extended, her forearm dripping with her blood. She had taken Melcor’s dagger off the pedestal and gouged herself from wrist to elbow. “Will this help?” she asked. And with that question, the child fainted.
Dropping his axe, Roland ran to her yanking off his chest armor. Ripping stitches of cloth from his undershirt, he created a makeshift bandage to dress Oomie’s wound.
Melcor stood in place. It had been an act of love. An act of free will. Something beyond the comprehension of the spiritless death night. “I…I can’t,” Melcor stuttered. “What is happening to me? What…Riktuu?”
The uttering of my name coming from Melcor shocked me. He looked at me with a genuine recognition in his eyes not present only moments before.
“Riktuu, what has happened.”
It was Bethol. Oomie’s action somehow returned his spirit and he was here.
With no time to analyze what happened, I called to my old friend. “Bethol,” I said, “the Rebels are down on the battleground. Bring them here, NOW!”
He did. Upon arrival, team was momentarily disoriented. Shaking off the confussion, Moryaa motioned the others toward the three of us standing over little Oomie, passed out in a pool of her own dark red blood.
“Tule,” I beckoned, “Moryaa, help.”
They saw what I meant, and immediately went to work. Together, the two priests healed little Oomie, and she sat up.
“Grandfather,” she said bravely. “Did I give you what you needed?”
We all looked to the death night. No, not the death night. We could see that now. It was Bethol, complete and true. I had physically seen the soul return to his eyes. Bethol approached and knelt with Roland before the granddaughter he’d never met. Putting his hand on Roland’s shoulder, he answered. “More than you know, child,” he said. “More than you know.”
So we return to those seven gentle words I used to begin this tale. Innocence conquering evil at its purest level. It makes me wonder if the one who coined the phrase had ever witnessed an act as remarkable as this.
Now, we are enroute back to SI:7 with an incredible report for Mathias. He will be astonished by the accounts of our mission. What we’ve learned will be an incredible turning point for the
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