Time passed slowly, the battle to protect the Sunwell Plateau and Anveena from Kil’jaeden’s cruel hand continued.  The rising death toll and the countless number of those who lost their minds from the horrors they had seen remained an ever-alarming figure.  Such news reached the ears of the Draenei from her chosen ‘abode’ and yet it came at no surprise. The Legion were born solely to be destructive race, completely void of emotion their sadistic acts brought them pleasure and corrupted the otherwise delicate minds of those who endured or witnessed them.  Even the ‘strong’ of body would fall foul to this eventually and some part of them would die, this was still inevitable and the Shaman hadn’t forgotten it.

It should have came at no surprise that she grew steadily more agitated by the lack of ‘need’ for her on the front lines.  Her superiors had all but forgotten about her and progressed with their troops into the depths of the Dead Scar. She could have raised both suspicion and assumption that they were aware that she had yet to ‘relax’ and deemed it unwise to bring her back but she really would have appreciated the distraction.  Additionally such a distraction and a new directive would have kept her out of trouble, even the spirits couldn’t argue with her in regards to the path she had chosen to take.

He would prove his honour to her.  In her eyes he had none, he was a coward and a deserter who should have been executed long ago.  However, fate had favoured him in giving him a chance to redeem himself through his child.  Only a monster would run away and leave their child stranded, only a monster would even permit a creature to attack something so vulnerable.  If he were to meet her in combat and prove his worth then he would recover some level or respect.  Admittedly not even a microscopic part of that would be from her but it would be an opportunity for the wretch to save face amongst those in Goldshire.

Rumour, whispers and tales had already spread quickly in relation to the sickly love triangle.  For a time considerable disdain had been directed towards the young Draenei who had all but been branded a seductress.  Nevertheless as time had progressed and further revelations regarding Raniero’s past became apparent, this disdain was quickly redirected to him. She would be lying if she wasn’t satisfied by this shift in opinions, she disliked the woman for obvious reasons but it had been the elf that had made the choice.

…No wonder many still remained suspicious of their kind.

Alas, as she mused over further reports of her comrades at the Sunwell she could only vaguely take note of the lack of presence either elf or his wife appeared to have in Goldshire.  The Draenei could only assume that they had fled into hiding, either that or Raniero simply hadn’t warned her of the risk and had allowed her to wander off again.  Tsnumi had informed her that this ‘Dannyka’ had disappeared for a relative number of months too, to explore the regions of Azeroth.  The more the Draenei considered it, the more she realised that this particular Night Elf did not seem to approve of his women having any sort of freedom.

Clasping her hands behind her back, she released a sigh through parted lips and permitted her ethereal gaze to trail across the cobbled streets outside of the inn.  She had adopted one particular room as her place of rest and as she would have it, had opted to remain in seclusion from that point forward.  Her threat had of course been received with the rest of the rumours and she was not received well in public.  Yet the ‘darker’ side of certain individuals seemed to agree with her stance.  It was unfortunate; they said…that a war veteran would fall upon such dark times.  However not one of them realised that she had absolutely no intention of taking the life of a child.  She may have been capable of threats but she was a woman of honour, she had a point to prove and that was as far as it would go – if worst came to worse she would ensure the Elf lost his life.

“You are walking a very fine line,” the male voice echoed from the table near by, the tiny spirit of fire hovering above the surface was careful not to singe the wood beneath it. “To make such threats and to succumb to them no less is most dangerous,” he continued and shook a flaming hand somewhat. It made the Draenei smile somewhat, the link that existed between shaman and elements was unique and so strong that even as one walked an uncertain path the spirits would remain with said shaman for as long as possible.

“You know as well as I do that I am not that weak,” she replied after a short pause, steepling her fingers together behind her back.  Her gaze remained focused on the bustling street beneath her but her expression had softened somewhat at the warm embrace she now felt.  They didn’t exactly encourage her but they were supporting her as best they could in the given circumstances. The majority of shaman her age had a unique connection to these spirits, unlike the younger generations it had been those of her generation that had been rebuilt and given a new sense of purpose.  Without her kin believing one of the Broken, shamanism would have struggled to take hold and without the aid of the elements there would have been many more Draenei that had succumbed to the darkness and despair that existed in the shattered lands of Draenor.

She was thankful, to say the least.

“Perhaps but you are not invincible either,” pushing himself from the table the elemental made short work of closing the gap between the Draenei and himself.  Now perching on the windowsill he followed her gaze to what lurked below.  As usual Goldshire was bustling with activities, between the duels and sparring of young men… to the ever-busy market near by.  Rumours of the Darkmoon Faire returning to town had caused considerable excitement – they remained oblivious as always.

“I envy them,” she mused quietly and shook her head. “They do not have to worry about anything except where their next meal is and whether or not they will be able to beat their rival in a duel the next day.”

“But without you they would have the same, if not greater strain than you endure,” the elemental pointed out wisely, releasing a sigh which served only to spout so smoke against the window.  The Draenei did little more than way her hand to dismiss the smoke from her immediate vicinity and pursed her lips.  He always had a way of making her see that not everything was as simple (or as complex) as it first appeared.  Given he was the first element to embrace her when she had needed it most, it was unsurprising he had been chosen as ‘it’ to speak with her and to watch her closely in the coming weeks.

“That does not make it any less easy,” she sniffed a little and focused briefly on her reflection in the glass.  Faint it may have been, but without her armour she looked utterly harmless and almost normal. If only it hadn’t been for that darkening of the eyes then maybe it would have never been this hard…

Their discussion was never meant to be finished though, both Draenei and elemental soon found their gaze fixed upon the familiar face.  A mother and a child, a newborn no less who was accompanied by no Night Elf male but the very same friends that were present with her before.  Chizuamaya’s brow rose at this, her mind finding it difficult to fathom that perhaps the Night Elf really had fled from his responsibilities (again).  

“You have to be joking,” she whispered softly, her eyes widening in disbelief as she glanced about the cobbled streets for any sign of Raniero.  Alas, there was no immediate sign of the Elf and she exchanged quick glances with the elemental by her side. She had known he was a coward in terms of his responsibilities towards adults but to leave his own child?

“Now you see why we chose not to send you for him again,” the elemental murmured gently, reaching out a hand to pat at the Draenei’s arm.  The gesture sent a jolt of warm into her but did little to comfort her; for all intents and purposes he had placed her reputation in jeopardy as well.  She wouldn’t kill a child and yet to back out of such a threat now would be weak… Her words would never be taken seriously again and she simply couldn’t afford that.  “Your choice, young one?”

“I don’t have a choice,” she replied quietly, drawing away from the window to retrieve the armour that her form was so very familiar with. It was at times like these when she had gambled everything, that she craved the warm embrace of the ornate armour.  Elements were one thing but this made her just a little more invincible than she was without it.  In the passing minutes she had refitted the pieces, adjusted the spaulders into a comfortable position and had reached for the shield and mace she hadn’t touched in weeks.

“Are you sure about that?” The elemental had watched her closely, trailing along the floor after her.  He wasn’t about to stop her; if she were to make a mistake then he would comfort her afterwards. However, all had to understand that his kind did not order anyone around…they gave them freedom of choice. This was indeed her choice even if it were blind sighted and blinkered.  Or such was his assumption given that the Draenei had yet to inform him of her exact plans.

“Positive.”

******************************************************************************

“My soul, corrupted by vengeance hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey. In my own salvation and your eternal slumber…” Resting her arm against the doorframe, the Draenei’s expression remained completely hidden by the veil that now covered her face.  Ethereal gaze the only visible feature, her stance and aura were not one of gentleness.  Rather, it radiated with hostility and with her gaze focused on the child as opposed to the mother it let for a very uncomfortable atmosphere.  Those who had grown accustomed to her occasional appearances without armour now began to question their immediate assumptions.  Apparently she had not been joking (cruelly) that she would be taking the life of a small child.

“Congratulations on your child,” she purred gently, her eyes narrowing to mere slits as she watched the otherwise peaceful child.  Cuddled against his mother’s chest, he remained asleep and oblivious to the tension in the air.  That uncertainty and discomfort that each adult felt as they watched the scene.  They couldn’t react pre-emptively of course given that the shaman hadn’t made any moves to attack but it didn’t make the situation any better.

“Thank you,” the Draenei replied in a guarded manner, her expression so complex that it would have taken the shaman many hours to translate it.  Regardless, it was safe to assume that the new mother was less than thrilled at the company she found herself in.

“Where’s your husband, child?” Pressing on with the matter she twirled the mace absently in her fingertips and examined the rotating disks that it consisted of.  It had always seemed so delicate and harmless but disks that never stopped rotating could always act like rotating blades could they not? “I would not be surprised in the slightest if he was hiding again, it is unfortunate you chose a coward for a –”

“I’m not a coward,” interrupting the rather cliché spiel from the shaman, the Elf adorned in the armour recognised in many arenas appeared at the tavern’s entrance.  His helmet was off as etiquette required when entering a social gathering, but his expression was utterly priceless as he stared at the shaman.  Whatever love he might have had for her had been replaced by disgust, something that the Draenei approved of given that it would fuel his blood in combat.

She was satisfied.

“I suggest you prove that given how often you have deserted the Valley,” it was a low blow and was intended to anger those in the tavern who had taken part in those conflicts.  They had returned home with scars but they were alive – to have one in their midst that had feigned death would make them sympathise with the shaman… just a little.

“I won’t fight you,” he turned to face the woman as she passed him and shook his head. “You may have changed but what we had was -”

“A lie.”

It made more than just the elf flinch as she passed by and drifted into the cobbled streets of the town.  It was only when she had come to a halt in the middle of the street that lay outside the tavern that she swung round and raised her voice.  Never one to call so loudly without reason, it was her direct challenge and his choice to make.

“You are a coward, Raniero and for that you disgust me,” she announced as she raised her mace and beckoned towards the door.  “You have deserted your men in battle and you have deserted me - you dispute these claims and you have argued them so I put it to you…”

She paused (for the added flare) and rested her mace against her shoulders, her eyes narrowed in an almost sadistic pleasure of what was about to come.  The pressure for the elf to prove himself would not be for her, but now it would be for his family and those within the tavern.  He might have betrayed her but he hadn’t done anyone else any favours either.

“Prove your honour to me!”

What reaction she received was slow and yet, eventually the elf did emerge from the tavern.  Expression strained and eyes seemingly ‘dead’ to the world, he was now aware that there was no running from this.  With admirable precision he had been cornered – to save face and to ensure his son never received grief as he matured was paramount.  No one could live through their life peacefully if they were constantly reminded that their father was a coward…and a rake.

“Is this what you really want?” He asked at last as he lifted his helmet and fitted it onto his head.  With a slight click it was sealed in place and he calmly clapped the visor down as well.  How ironic it was that he was regarded as a vengeful warrior when all he did was run.

“More than you realise,” she replied coolly, readjusting her stance as she fixed her gaze upon the elf.  In reply he removed the two handed blade from his back and adopted his own stance.  It was unfortunate for him, which he was not aware of the ‘devilish’ tricks that the shaman possessed.  He would be absolutely destroyed by the time that she had finished with him… His demise would be swift, his defeat assured and she would be satisfied.

Or that is how it worked in theory at least.

Nevertheless it was the responsibility of another to play the role of the referee; one could have accused the entire thing of being staged had it not been for the individuals involved.  Chizuamaya was renowned for her solitary behaviour, thus the very idea of her acting in any play was impossible to fathom. As for Raniero, few could deny that he had vanished twice and that the facts threw any accusations of a ‘play’ out the window.  It was the decision of one of the patrolling Sanguine Knights to step in – he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect but if a duel would uphold the peace then that was what he would permit.

“The duel between Farseer Chizuamaya and Marshall Raniero is about to begin.  This duel will continue until either side is unable to continue!” Lifting his hand the human took a step back and fell into position nearby the fence.  With the cobble street now in the possession of two rather disgruntled individuals it was safe to assume that traffic in such a location had ground to a halt. There were alternative routes and the smart had chosen to taken these diversions but you always found a few willing to provide an audience.  The shaman couldn’t have asked for more in the given circumstances.

Alas, with his child under threat it did appear that the Night Elf had taken her threats seriously.  With no sense of regret he lunged forward, his speed alarming considering the weight of the plate he wore on his form. The large blade swung backwards in preparation for an assault and yet, as he brought it round to land a blow upon the shaman he had once again miscalculated the gifts they possessed.  She had no plate armour, but she had her ‘magic’.

She raised her shield to block his blow and yet as the blade connected, her eyes glinted with triumph. Her hand free beneath her shield, she summoned forth the elements and what was once in flames became frozen.  The frost and cold air extinguished the flames upon her shield as they rushed forward, encasing his blade in ice and his arm alongside it.  Ironic that they be connected in such a manner but this gave the shaman the ‘power’ she required.

You see, only she could release the blade from her grasp and sever the link the pair had.  His revelation that he had all but forgotten her strengths and skill were disappointing, yet she pitied him for his obvious lack of prowess.  All that running hadn’t helped him one bit…

Thus it was with a glow in her eyes that she drew her hand away from her frozen shield and stepped back slowly to inspect the elf.  His right hand side trapped in ice weighed him down considerably while she was free to move. In a manner of speaking the tides had turned as she withdrew her highest bet from the table – her heart – and at last saw him for what he was.

Weak.

Vulnerable.

He needed power and attention to feel strong, he needed something submissive or he became incompetent.  All the moments she had permitted herself to be vulnerable, all those times she had given him her heart… They had fed the flames of this craving and now that she had removed them he returned to what he had once been.  Absolutely nothing, he was her subordinate.  Consequently his sudden loss of power in her eyes made her chuckle, she had expected a dramatic battle and had received a rather large disappointment.  He had (like a child) allowed himself to be trapped at the hands of a veteran and now he had to wait for her to decide the outcome of the battle.

“You disappoint me,” she tossed her mace to the ground and watched as it rolled towards his feet.  It never ceased in it’s spinning but in tossing it to his feet she had ended the duel.  Disarmed she was logically speaking ‘unable to battle’ and as was he, onlookers would have declared it a draw if she hadn’t done it so [I]willingly[/I].  “You are weak but at least you have the decency to protect your own blood…” she shook her head and with a dismissive wave of her hand she turned her back to him and extended her other to catch the elemental as he dropped into her gloved hand.

With his appearance the ice upon the swordsman promptly melted and the shield clattered to the floor with a loud crack. Shortly after it was set alight and glowed with a renewed vigour.  However, while the Farseer had ‘ended’ her fight humiliation was not something that the elf took lightly.  Readjusting his weight he leapt forward again and without her shield the Farseer only had one more thing at her disposal.  With a hissed warning from her companion she spun round abruptly and threw the elemental forward.  As he flew through the air he grew considerably and it was only as he landed that he glowered angrily towards the elf and became a much more efficient wall between her and a creature of great dishonour and betrayal.

“While your death is inevitable, it will not be by my hands that you fall…” She continued softly and fell in beside the elemental, resting her hand upon his arm.  What should have burnt her merely pulsed with warmth, the rage directed at the night elf she now watched closely.  “Let us hope your child inherits his mother’s traits and not your own.”

Outnumbered and strategically placed into the role of the villain the Night Elf could do nothing more than lower his weapon and step backwards in accordance with the ‘rules’.  He had attempted to attack and she had replied in equal measure, he had been bested twice and through two simple movements – had he really lost his touch? He may not have travelled with the shaman in a long while but he should have known of her most common tricks!

“You are dismissed,” her tone had such finality to it that he had no words to reply to it.  As though a superior had disciplined a subordinate or slave, he had been humiliated and was still viewed to be exactly what he was.  He found no ‘honour’ in his duel, only pain but perhaps it was a reasonable trade off given that his son would remain safe.  The children would never look at said son with great respect but he would be alive and at the very least, could say his father had met his adversary in battle.

Alas, time flowed onwards and as the Night Elf surrenders the elemental shrunk to a more appropriate size. Drifting back into the grasp of the Farseer he nested quietly upon her palm and waited patiently for her next move. He wasn’t prepared to say he had misjudged his young charge, but he did make a mental note to remind her to inform him of her plans prior to taking part in them in the future. It was with this in mind that he tugged lightly at her finger when she at last began to distance herself from the gathering.

“Well done, young one,” he offered at last a rather peculiar smile lining his lips as she turned her gaze towards him.

“I do not feel any better,” she confessed, still aware of the emptiness that had grown steadily worse as her vacation continued. Whether she cared to admit it or not her place was on the battlefield.  Without a family or loved one to return to, all her love and companionship existed there.  Without it she was empty.

“Young One?”

“…I need to go home,” she whispered at last.  Her eyes dulled and she shook her head, lifting her hand to remove the veil from her face she released a small sigh and savoured the cool breeze on her cheeks.  “To the Sunwell, I belong with my people.”

“I know.”