A Troll Tale
By Laura Jean Brown
Khelinda sighed contentedly as she lowered her tired feet into the cool water of the channel in the outer ring of the Undercity. She had tromped from vendor to vendor all morning, exploring this new place. Now, it was time to relax. Opening her tackle box, she baited her hook and tossed the line into the brackish water, where the bobber settled about eight feet in front of her. One would expect the Undercity to be unbearable, with the rats and cockroaches, not to mention this amazingly, blindingly green sewage water everywhere, but to Khelinda, the city was an oasis filled with cool drafts, soothing damp air, and teeming with interesting smells and sounds. The Undead inhabitants created amazingly little waste save for the byproducts of the continuous alchemy experiments taking place in the Apothecarium. Best of all, the moat was filled with exotic fish, mutated by the endless supply of failed experiments carelessly dumped in the water. Khelinda was a beginner alchemist and on this day she sought the prized fish found only in these waters, fish whose oils, skins and organs would give her some exciting ingredients with which to improve her craft.
The Undercity was definitely a city that never slept, which suited Khelinda just fine. She was still young, barely old enough to even think about choosing a mate, and filled with a sense of adventure instilled by her father. When she was barely old enough to hold a staff, he had taken her to the Valley of Trials on the southern edge of Durotar, a stark and unforgiving land, to teach her the ways of her people, a people at war. While he was often away for weeks at a time defending the farthest reaches of Horde territory, he always made time for his youngest, his only daughter, when he came home. He had quickly discovered in her a knack for weaving the powers of shadow and light, an uncanny ability to harness the tremendously destructive power of shadows coupled with a healing gift. Before long, her father had taken her to Ken’jai, the local priest trainer, to teach her the things about her magic that he could not. Having trained under Thrall in his youth, her father was one of the most skilled troll warriors in the world, a mighty force in the prime of his life. But as much as he respected and appreciated wielders of magic, he did not pretend to understand all that “finger waggling and chanting” as he put it. He left her education in magic to those more qualified, while teaching her the basics of weapons and defense that she would need to survive in this war-torn realm.
She stared at her bobber, which would have simply sat there and stared back if it had eyes. Not a nibble stirred it. The subtle stench radiating from the water began to make her head ache, but she was persistent about bringing home some rare fish. She decided to cast further into the channel. Halfway reeled in, her line snagged on something. She knew it couldn’t be a fish because it gave no struggle. Slowly she reeled her line in, hoping not to break it. What came up from the channel was a small slime-covered cube, about the size of her fist. She wiped at the brown-green-black slime with the hem of her robe, peripherally aware of the fuss her mother would make later, but too intrigued about her discovery to care. Her careful cleaning revealed an ornate box. It appeared to be bronze or some other refined metal. The lid was decorated in fine etching, symbols she didn’t recognize, and in the center was the largest gem Khelinda had ever seen. The bright aqua blue gem twinkled and glowed, winking in the semi-dim light of the torches on the walls of the outer ring. The box had a decorative clasp, which she undid, slowly lifting the lid. As she did so, a hissing sound whooshed out of the box and she felt a whuff of stale are against her face. The ground around her began to tremble, water sloshing up to her knees and soaking her gown. She slammed the box shut. The trembling immediately stopped. Shaken, she fastened the box closed and shoved it into her waist pack, hastily gathering her fishing supplies.
“Whatcha got there?” A raspy voice, dry as the sands of Durotar, hissed into her ear, a voice that was way too close for comfort. Whirling, she faced Apothecary Lycanus, who had snuck up behind her with such stealth she hadn’t known he was nearby. She had already encountered him once today while visiting with Doctor Marsh about what useful types of fish she might find in channel. Lycanus had been pacing around, hissing under his breath to himself, seeming to have an argument either with himself or someone nearby that only he could see. His presence, unnerving then, was now doubly so, in this isolated spot away from all the vendors and trainers. He seemed to almost pant as he grabbed the front of her robe, pulling her nose to nose.
“I said, whatcha got?!”
“Nothing! What do you want?”
Khelinda tried looking around frantically for any sign of help, but his face was pushed close, his fetid breath gagging her. He turned and shoved her back against a nearby wall. She could smell the mold in his clothing, or maybe that was just his own odor. He began to grope around her clothing, searching. Khelinda began to growl low in her throat, preparing to snap at his face with her sharp teeth . . . anything to get away from those insistent hands.
Just then a group of young, male trolls came walking by on the other side of the channel, all chattering eagerly at once. They were about Khelinda’s age, and she knew one of them from Sen’jin village, her home.
She called out, “Nen’din!” Thankfully he heard her over the noisy group. He smiled, waved excitedly, “Khelinda, what are you doing here?” Lycanus, seeing himself outnumbered, hissed once more and released her as the group of young trolls crossed the bridge to where she stood. Her tackle box had spilled nearby, her various lures, alchemy vials and other oddments scattered about the stone pavement. Head lowered, Lycanus walked swiftly toward the stairs to the Royal Quarter.
“Khelinda, look at this!” Nen’din brandished a brand new crossbow. “They have a crossbow expert here! He showed me how to use this.” He took aim at one of the rats scurrying past and released a bolt, which didn’t just kill the rat but pretty much shredded it too.
Khelinda made the appropriate show of appreciation for his prowess while watching the shadowy form of Lycanus retreat into the labyrinth of the city. Her hands shook as she gathered her belongings and checked her waist pouch to make sure the box was still there.
Nen’din seemed to notice something was amiss. “Who was that?”
“Somebody I don’t want to run into again anytime soon.”
Nen’din’s brow furrowed. He had known Khelinda since they were toddlers. He recognized that she was badly shaken, but also knew she did not scare easily. With powerful magic at her disposal, even though she did not have his skill with weapons, she could certainly defend herself. Something had really spooked her here. He puffed out his chest and grinned wide, baring his still-growing tusks to reassure her.
As they walked toward the trade quarter, past the shouting auctioneers and the anxious babble of the buyers, Nen’din raised his voice to introduce his friends, Jos, Trayex, and Mif’tah. Trayex had a companion, a young orange cat with white paws and fangs it had not grown into, prowling at his feet, rubbing against his legs, which told Khelinda he must be one of the hunters who patrolled the homelands with their well-trained animal counterparts. Mif’tah wore the tabard of a journeyman mage. His eyes showed the beginnings of a blue, gem-like gleam, a sure sign that he had already been exposed to great amounts of powerful ice magic in his training. Jos made her nervous by constantly twirling two daggers as he walked, or was it three or four daggers? She could not tell for sure, but she figured if she wanted an escort home, she could not be picky. And that was exactly what she wanted, to get home as quickly as possible, to show this trinket to Ken’jai. Once they had entered a busier part of the city, Khelinda explained to the young men what she had found and Lycanus’ attempt to take it from her.
“I don’t know what this thing is, but it’s powerful! I have to get it home to show to Ken’jai. He will be able to tell me what it is and what I should do with it. And the fact that Lycanus is so interested in it makes me want to keep it safe even more. Even for one of the Forsaken, he is creepy.” She shuddered at the memory of his foul breath in her face, his groping hands in her pockets, the dry rasp of his voice, the uncanny strength with which he had pinned her to the wall.
Once again, Nen’din puffed up his chest and grinned, nodding. Khelinda hadn’t noticed until now that he really had changed recently. Since he had left for more advanced warrior training in Orgrimmar, she had seen very little of him, although she spent a good deal of time with his sister, Lexanna, her best friend since early childhood. His muscles looked strong, his face more lean, and his stance showed the confidence of adulthood. His movements were sure and swift in his metal armor, as if it weighed nothing. Her pulse quickened, watching him survey their surroundings with an air of authority. Khelinda felt a moment of uncertainty, wondering at the warm feeling spreading through her abdomen as she watched Nen’din stand up straighter, but then the moment passed and she decided she must still be shaken up by her experience with Lycanus.
Clearly taking charge, Nen’din said, “We will take the zeppelin back to Durotar. They have armed guards now since the Alliance tried to take them over. It is but a short walk to the Valley of Trials from there. We will see to your safety, Khelinda.”
Heading towards the lifts to the upper part of the city, Khelinda felt watched, a nagging tingle between her shoulder blades. She peered around in every direction, but she did not spot Lycanus among the throng. Nen’din took the lead and the others surrounded her, Knife-Boy taking up the rear. As if she didn’t have enough to be nervous about, she had to listen to the soft scrape and clink of his knives trailing her footsteps. The Undercity guards, those hideous constructs with extra limbs, flanked the door to the lift as Khelinda and the others waited in silence. Their enormous exhales of rank breath stirred the spikes of hair on Khelinda’s head. The sound of them was reminiscent of Lycanus’ quick, panting breaths in her face. She began to feel nauseous, trapped, waiting. Now, Khelinda could not wait to escape the Undercity, the same magical place that just a short time ago had charmed her.
Finally the lift arrived and the group rode to the top section of the crumbling city. The area around the ruined fountain was largely deserted. Not even a breath of wind stirred the blades of overgrown grass as they made their way along the flagstone path. They saw one young blood elf on her way to use the transport to Silvermoon, the home city of the blood elves that Khelinda had heard about. She had planned to investigate the portal, take a quick peek at the fabled city of turrets and magic brooms before returning home, but her plans had changed now. She no longer had time for detours. Approaching the city’s main exit, Khelinda suddenly felt a wave of dizziness pass over her and blackness appeared at the edges of her vision, and then . . . she was somewhere else.
Hot wind seared her face. She stood in a gray and rocky land, the sky a deep violet. Her eyes traveled to the horizon and she saw that not far away, the ground simply vanished into a void of empty space. Jagged pieces of rock floated there just off the “shore.” She could only think of it as a shoreline, adjacent to a sea of nothingness. Scattered around were giant gray boulders mixed in with what looked like the largest gems Khelinda had ever seen, crystals that had pushed their way to the surface from some unknown depth. Then she realized the giant boulder-gems were identical in color to the small one that decorated the ornate box she carried in a waist pouch, that bright aqua-blue.
She reached to check the pouch and, looking down, found the box already in her hands. It was open, and she realized that the wind she felt came from within the box, blowing directly into her face and traveling the length of her body down to her bare feet where it stirred a bit of loose soil. Inside the box was an object like none she had ever seen, about the size of both her fists together. It was round like a ball, perfectly smooth, a bit larger than the orb trinket she used to help her channel her spells. Within the orb she saw every color imaginable, pulsing and moving along the surface, colors blending together and then separating to merge with others. It was hard to make sense of what she was seeing. Then the colors shifted, separated, and within the orb she saw a face come into focus . . . a delicate and beautiful female troll face with tiny tusks, a delicate hint of blue to her skin, and an unmistakable look of sorrow in her eyes. This face was young but the eyes hinted at knowledge only attained by the very old.
“Khelinda!” Someone was shouting from far away, calling her name. She glanced again towards that bizarre horizon, seeking the voice, but the sad countenance in the orb drew her back. Now the eyes in the lovely troll face filled with tears. “Khelinda! Wake up!” Someone was shaking her. She blinked, opened her eyes, and saw Nen’din crouched above her, his eyebrows scrunched up with worry. Then he let out a huge sigh. “You just collapsed here, you’re lucky you didn’t crack your skull open.”
Khelinda felt shaky as she sat up, looking around in confusion as the sense of otherness of that rocky land, the feeling of hot wind in her face, dissipated like a dream upon waking. Her face was wet, and she wiped hastily at the tears streaming down her cheeks, tears shared with the sorrowful woman she had seen. Just as Nen’din had woken her from her trance . . . dream . . . whatever it had been, she had felt a strong connection to the woman, like something had reached out to her from the box, touching her center, caressing that part of her where the magic came through. Waking felt like someone she loved had just died, taking her breath away for an instant, but then even that feeling began to fade. After all, none of that had really happened. She had not really just been standing at the edge of some unknown world next to an empty sea of air. She was tired and afraid, that was all. The quicker she got moving, the quicker they would get home.
Nen’din helped her to her feet while the others looked on, all seeming ready to catch her the moment she began to swoon again. But she didn’t swoon. She felt embarrassed, and then a bit angry at her embarrassment. Blushing, she said, “I don’t know what that was all about but I feel okay now. I thought I saw . . . never mind, let’s get going.” Through the gates of the city, Nen’din stayed at her side as they walked, his hand loosely wrapped around her shoulder to steady her. She didn’t need to be steadied, but she liked the feel of his hand, large and strong, and that warm feeling was spreading through her again, making her want to growl for some reason, making her feel pleasantly aggressive, more alive. Even the whispery sound of Jos’s knives was less unnerving than before.
They made their way up the platform to wait for the zeppelin that would carry them to Orgrimmar. Khelinda watched as seasoned adventurers boarded a zeppelin bound for Northrend on a nearby platform. Her father had told stories of Northrend, and harsh and unforgiving realm torn by war and wrought with peril, not the least of which was the extremely cold climate. She could not imagine traveling to such places, but he assured her that she had inherited his adventurous spirit, that as she grew older she would not be content to stay at home like her mother did. Be that as it may, the last thing she wanted right now was adventure. She would welcome the comfortable fire, the strong presence of her mother as she worked by the eternal hearth of their hut, interpreting what the earthly elements demanded of her.
The zeppelin finally arrived, armed to the teeth with undead soldiers. She recognized the same impassive faces she had seen on her way to the Undercity, just that very morning, but it seemed like ages ago. The group sat along the railing near the front of the deck, the only passengers for this trip. It was a long journey across the water to the continent of Kalimdor, but not an uncomfortable one. Jos pulled some cured meat from his pack and began to eat noisily, his knives close at hand. Trayex and his cat dozed in the bright sunshine, purring in unison. Mif’tah gazed past the horizon; the blue sheen in his eyes was more startling in the sunlight than it had been when Khelinda first encountered him in the dark confines of the Undercity. He began to cast a spell of some sort, the tips of his fingers glowing bright blue. Out of nowhere, a small square gem appeared in his cupped hands. He gave the gem a pleased look, crushed it between his hands to destroy it, and then began to summon another. Nen’din sat close by her side, his thigh brushing up against hers.
“What do you think that thing is?” Nen’din’s voice whispered very close to her ear. Khelinda glanced around at the disinterested faces of the guards then shook her head. She did not think it wise to discuss her discovery anywhere that others might overhear. They completed the rest of the journey in silence.
Arriving in Durotar, the familiar scent of the dry air, the sounds of orcs shouting to one another, brought Khelinda out of the sleepy haze of the long ride. Disembarking, Nen’din halted the group at the bottom of the tower’s ramp to look both ways before exiting the small building. “We should take the road, we’ll be able to see around us better.” The males took up the same formation, Nen’din at Khelinda’s side, Trayex and Mif’tah on either side, and Knife-Boy trailing behind again.
A small mixed group of trolls, orcs, tauren and undead practiced their fighting skills just outside the city gates. Sometimes humans or other members of Alliance races showed up here to duel with members of the Horde, just out of sight of the city’s gate guards, each practicing to kill each other someday. Khelinda was not interested in such things as a general rule, but she heard Trayex’s sharp intake of breath at the sight of a fellow troll hunter defeated by an orc warlock in a skirmish. It was clear he was itching to go defend the fallen hunter’s reputation. Nen’din glanced at Trayex, grinned and nodded. Trayex whistled to his companion and the two ran into the fray. The cat harassed the orc warlock, interrupting his spell casting, while Trayex made short work of the warlock’s voidwalker minion. Defenseless, the warlock quickly raised his hands, palms out, admitting defeat. The fight was over in a matter of moments, but then a tauren warrior jumped in and attacked Trayex, causing his cat to go into a blood rage. Mif’tah joined in, throwing icy bolts at the warrior, freezing him in place so that Trayex could back up and use his bow. Frozen and cat-bitten, the warrior soon chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. The three combatants shook hands and the good-natured warrior chatted about what he would do differently next time he was faced with a hunter and mage combination.
Saying their farewells, the trolls finally regrouped and turned south towards Razor Hill and beyond to the Valley of Trials. It was growing late as they approached Drygulch Ravine where the road narrowed and wound between two great outcroppings of rock. With twilight settling in, the ravine was dark, filled with unknown shadows.
Trayex shook his head and said, “I am sorry I delayed us. I did not realize the hour grew so late.”
“No problem, Mon,” Nen’din grinned at Trayex, answering in the accent of the old ones, the ancient patois from the time before their speech was influenced by other races. Dramatically, Nen’din continued, unsheathing his sword with a flourish, “Da mighty trolls meet injustice with force! Sometimes we gotta rattle da brains of da enemy!” Giggling, Khelinda got caught up in the mood. “Ya, Mon!” She yelled, shaking a fist in the air. The others joined in and soon the canyon echoed with their voices, shouting the superiority of troll prowess and magic.
Then a shadow descended, darkening the already gloomy and deserted canyon, abruptly silencing them. Khelinda glanced up and saw six silent and stealthy undead, both male and female, gliding down from both rims of the canyon beneath small parachutes strapped to their backs. “The Forsaken!” Nen’din growled. “Lycanus must have sent spies to follow us! They chose their moment well.”
He began to bark orders, “Mif’tah, Trayex! Stay by this rock with Khelinda. Guard her!” The two males flanked her, making sure there was no room between Khelinda and the rocky slope of the canyon wall for someone to slip behind her with a sharp blade or a swift kick. The undead landed quietly, surrounding Nen’din and fanning out in a half circle. Jos blended in with the shadows, halfway between Nen’din and the other trolls, waiting for his opportune moment to strike. Nen’din readied his shield, blade already drawn, and assumed a half crouch. Raising his blade he let out a blood curdling battle shout. The others joined in, feeling their blood rise, their heartbeats quickening, and then the enemy engaged, taking turns striking at Nen’din, trying to keep him off balance. A tall undead with greenish mold colored hair was clearly their leader. He wore heavy plate armor but instead of carrying a shield like Nen’din, he carried two large axes, wielding them both with deadly accuracy and speed. The trolls knew without speaking that this one must be dealt with first.
Raising his shield repeatedly to block the deadly blows of the giant axes, Nen’din was not able to strike at his opponent effectively, but then Jos made his move. Sneaking between the rabble of undead that were taking turns harrying Nen’din, he made his way behind Axe Man undetected and, with both knives, he struck him in the lower back, momentarily paralyzing his enemy. As Axe Man turned in turned in agony, Khelinda saw the poison seeping from his wounds. She silently blessed Jos and forgave him the annoying knife sounds. The she noticed Nen’din’s wounds, small cuts on his arms and one larger one seeping from his left side. Summoning the healing magic the way she had been taught, she directed the life energy towards Nen’din and watched as the bright yellow light played across his skin, closing wounds and soothing his pain, enabling him to engage the enemy with even more ferocity than before. Peripherally, she noticed that Mif’tah and Trayex were focused on keeping the others off balance while Nen’din and Jos kept their attention on Axe Man. Both the mage and hunter could freeze an enemy in place, Mif’tah with his ice spells and Trayex by throwing icy traps. Trayex’s cat harried the ones not frozen, distracting them from their attempts to attack Nen’din, while Trayex’s bow was in non-stop action, piercing armor, weakening the enemies with multiple puncture wounds. But one of them got loose, sidestepping an ice trap and avoiding the wicked claws of the cat to land a stunning blow to Jos’ head, knocking him unconscious. Quickly, Khelinda directed her magic to Jos, reviving him so he could continue his relentless knife work. Soon she was continually casting her healing spells at Nen’din, Jos, and even the cat, but she began to fall behind, and Nen’din began to tire. She could not heal them all fast enough!
Then something strange happened. The sorrowful troll face from her vision appeared before Khelinda’s eyes. This time she could still see everything that was happening around her in the dim canyon, but somehow she saw the woman’s face more clearly. She noticed a scar just below the woman’s left eye, shaped like a jagged bolt of lightning. Desperately she thought Help me! Then she felt a burst of energy in that deep part of her where she channeled magic, the part that she felt stirring before as the vision had slipped away. The channels of magic flowing from her hands now were bursting with power, the flow quickened, emanating from her in all directions. She knew this extra energy was a gift, something emanating from the orb within the ornate box tucked into the pouch at her side. Now, her healing magic was rejuvenating not just Nen’din, not just Jos, but the entire group of trolls! Even the cat looked renewed, swiping his claws faster, rending flesh with his teeth. Energized, amazed at what was happening to her, Khelinda surrendered to this new power and continued to guide the magic through her, from wherever it originated, flowing into this world to soothe her friend’s wounds and aches. Jos’ knives began moving faster, stabbing at Axe Man relentlessly. Trayex’s arrows did not miss a single mark, and Mif’tah’s ice spells pummeled two and three of the undead with each bolt that flew from his outstretched fingers, slowing not only their movements but addling their brains as well.
And Nen’din—if Khelinda was not so busy keeping them all alive, she would have been speechless by his performance. Not only was his shield always in the right place to block the attacks of Axe Man, he was on the offensive, slicing at Axe Man’s face, taking advantage of every opening given, flawless in his movements, feet quick as lightening. Soon the lesser undead fighters were either dead or had run in fear, leaving the trolls only to dispatch Axe Man. He was persistent, would not fall no matter how wounded he became. Finally, with a spark of raw power emanating from his hands, Nen’din landed a fatal blow to Axe Man’s head, knocking him to the ground. Jos finished him with a quick knife slash to the throat. Then all was still. The silence of the canyon was deafening as Khelinda heard only the roar of blood in her ears. The pounding of her heart began to slow as the magic flowing through her began to fade. Looking around she noticed a few wounds, a cut to Jos’ cheek and bruising on Nen’din’s arms. She coaxed the flow of magic once again to soothe those places, and then eased herself to the ground, stretching out, exhausted. The smell of blood was thick in the air, almost sickening, but the dead were some distance away so it was bearable. The others came and sat along the canyon wall beside her, their breathing eventually slowing, the urgent energy of the fight beginning to fade.
Mif’tah cupped his hands and began casting, producing several small flasks of pure, clear water and some bread. He passed this around to everyone and they ate and drank in silence. Khelinda had never tasted summoned food or drink, and she was pleasantly surprised to find it both light and satisfying. She began to feel whole again, the drain on her from channeling so much magic was beginning to normalize again. Soon, two of the undead who had fled earlier returned in stealth to drag off the corpses of their fallen comrades. The trolls had no objection and did not stir.
Finally Khelinda spoke in a whisper, “This thing I found, the thing in the box, it is the only reason I was able to keep all of you alive through that. The Axe Man was far more powerful and more skilled than we are, but somehow the orb gave me strength. I think it gave us all strength.” She told them about the vision earlier when she had collapsed by the fountain, and how she saw the woman’s face again just as the group was tiring from the fight, just when she most despearately needed an edge. “But I don’t understand,” she continued. “The undead are our allies! Why chase after me and try to kill us all?”
“All the more reason we must reach Ken’jai quickly. He will have some answers for us.” Nen’din looked thoughtful. “Lycanus must have his own agenda. He must not have reported this to his superiors. I am sure if Lady Sylvanas herself wanted what you fished out of her channel, she would certainly have it by now. We should go.”
They gathered their belongings and set out again in their now-familiar formation, Nen’din once again resting a hand on her shoulder. Khelinda glanced around at the others. “We do make a formidable team, don’t we?” The all grinned, their white tusks glowing in the light of the rising full moon. Feeling confident, but wary, they made their way south to Razor Hill, a small orc outpost with an inn, a few trainers and merchants. Jos stopped to buy ingredients to replenish his stock of poisons, Khelinda purchased a few candles, and they quickly moved on, through the open land between Razor Hill and the Valley of Trials. Although rocky outcroppings lay scattered about in the hard packed earth, visibility was good. They did not feel anyone would sneak upon them easily again.
In the distance, towards the coast of the Great Sea, they saw the flicker of torches and the central fire of Sen’jin village, their home. Khelinda felt a twinge of regret, knowing her mother was there, warm and comfortable within their family hut. She longed to stop and sleep, but knew that was impossible. They did not have far to go. Within minutes they passed a sleeping guard near the entrance to the Valley of Trials. Once again the group was surrounded by canyon walls, but this canyon was well lit with torches and not all of the guards were dozing. Some looked bleary eyed, yes, but they were awake enough to notice the group of young trolls coming through, not an unusual sight in the dead of night.
The central fire was deserted but blazed as bright as always. Khelinda led the way to the hut where Ken’jai lived and she rang the string of bells outside his door. Ken’jai soon appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He stretched, let out a tremendous belch, scratched his backside, and then finally focused his attention on the rag-tag group standing at his door. Ken’jai was middle-aged, but older than her father and not as physically fit. The grizzled hairs on his chin made him appear older than he really was. But his eyes betrayed a quickness of mind, a keenness sharpened by years of study and the endless practice of his magical arts.
“Khelinda!” he boomed in surprise, smiling down at her, probably waking half the village. Then he noticed the blood stains on Nen’din and Jos’ clothing, his wizened eyes taking on a note of alarm. “Come in, come in, all of you,” he said, hurrying them inside. They sat in a circle around his dying fire, the glow of the embers giving just enough light for them to see one another. “Well,” Ken’jai snapped, “Out with it! What have you young scamps been up to this night that justifies waking an old man from his sleep?”
Khelinda poured out the whole tale, describing what happened when she opened the little box, Lycanus’ reaction, her vision, and every detail of the fight in Drygulch Ravine. She finished by saying, “They are our allies! And they tried to kill us!”
Ken’jai chuckled. “Child, every empire has its spies, and every alliance has its dissidents. Not all of the undead feel an alliance with us is to their benefit, and apparently not all of them feel loyalty toward their own. The undead are indispensible allies to us in these times, but never forget that an alliance for them goes only so far as it benefits them. Now, as for this orb, someone should fetch your mother to have a look at this thing. She is wiser than you may know, little one.”
Jos and Trayex volunteered to get Khelinda’s mother and bring her back. While they waited, Ken’jai had Khelinda describe again the feelings she experienced during the fight in the canyon, the fullness of power and the new reach of her healing spells.
He asked, “You did not feel any hint of the shadow magic within you coming from the orb?”
Khelinda thought for a moment. “No. It was all light, healing magic. Not once did I even think to throw any shadows at the enemies, my only purpose was to keep the others alive. It’s funny you ask that, because in training I have always mixed the two schools of magic like you taught me. But in the canyon, I did not feel that aggression, that urge to lash out at the enemy.” Khelinda shivered, suddenly ashamed. “Master, does this make me weak?” Nen’din, sensing her discomfort, placed a protective hand on her knee, ready to defend her from any insult. Mif’tah merely looked uncomfortable, examining the dying embers in front of him.
But Ken’jai just laughed. “Of course not.” His smile relaxed the crinkles around his eyes, making him appear less formidable, almost jolly. “Did you think that just because you can harness the power of shadow that you must always use it? Silly. I have taught you to use both shadow and light because you are capable of both, but it is up to you to choose a preference. We priests tend to fare better if we choose a specialty, but I did not think you were ready for that. I see now that I underestimated you. Khelinda, you obviously have chosen to specialize in the healing arts. The gods know we need more of your kind if this war is to end.”
Relieved, Khelinda leaned into Nen’din, relaxing in his warmth, his strength. He once again placed a protective arm around her, making her feel strange and excited at the same time. By the time they returned, Jos and Trayex had already told her mother of their adventures that day. Her mother sat across the fire from her and without preamble said sternly, “Describe to me this woman in your visions.”
Khelinda obliged, long familiar with her mother’s blunt ways. “She was so sad, mother. She cried, but she was beautiful too. She had white hair but a youthful face, light blue skin, smooth and unblemished, except for a small scar below her left eye, shaped like a jagged bolt of lightning. She was so—compelling!”
Her mother sagged in relief, letting out a great sigh. “It is as I had hoped. Daughter, you have found the Orb of Shifting Sands, which belonged to my grandmother, Mish’ki. The orb was formed in the sands of this desert, formed over millennia, shaped by the very forces of the earth, and it appeared to Mish’ki in a dream, when she was young, like you. She dug a deep hole in the ground where the dream told her to, she found the orb, and it claimed her. I am told the orb gave her a great healing power and her name was known worldwide, her skills highly sought after. Then she accompanied a group of alliance seekers to the Undercity, before Thrall secured an alliance, and she was never heard from again. Many of us opposed a later alliance because of her loss, we suspected foul play, but since we could never find her or any of her belongings, there was no proof she had not just walked off on her own somewhere. But we knew, we in Sen’jin village, we knew she would never abandon us. That you found her orb in the murky waters of the Undercity only confirms our suspicions. We should be even more wary of our allies than we have been. But, oh, it is amazing that Mish’ki has reached you from beyond death, to pass on her greatest possession.” Her mother’s eyes almost brimmed with tears, but she was a proud and strong woman and she quickly regained control of herself. “Khelinda, this orb must be bound to your soul in order for you to fully understand and use its power.”
She might as well have been speaking in the human common language. Khelinda had no idea what that meant. Apparently the look on her face told it all because Ken’jai jumped in, “We have not reached that phase of your training, but we must get started now. Once an item is bound to you, nobody can take it from you, ever. Nor can you willfully discard it. If you ever leave it behind, it will find you, appearing mysteriously in a pocket or one of your bags. We should assume that Lycanus still follows, still threatens, so we must bind the orb to you now. There is no time to waste.” Khelinda had not planned to spend the entire night in lessons, but there seemed to be no choice. “Khelinda and I will need to work in here alone. The rest of you may wait outside if you like. The common fire still burns warm.”
They all stood to leave. Khelinda’s mother paused in the doorway and looked back. “Daughter, I am proud this day, as your father will be when he returns home. You will exceed our expectations. My grandmother has favored you, which means the gods will favor you always. I will be outside when you are finished.”
Nen’din also looked back at her as he stepped out of the hut, chin held high, chest puffed out in confidence. “I will wait as well. None shall disturb you.” She longed to follow him out the door, into the hills where they might find some privacy, where she might collapse in his arms for three days and sleep. But her studies awaited her attention, and she knew she must get past this task before she could rest.
It was a difficult process to learn, and when she opened the box the first time, the ground shook around her again, but Ken’jai said that was only because she did not yet know how to control the orb. Slowly she reached into it with her mind, learning its intricacies and secrets. Gradually, the orb revealed itself to her and each time she opened herself to it, she felt a closer bond, a greater understanding, and repeatedly she saw the face of her great-grandmother, Mish’ki, smiling at her in encouragement and approval. Finally, Khelinda and Ken’jai emerged from his hut, just as a soft glow appeared on the eastern horizon, the sun not quite peeking out. Her mother slept on her side by the fire. Trayex and Mif’tah dozed across from her. Jos leaned against a rock nearby, between the central fire and the only entrance to the valley. Nen’din stood between the fire and the hut, anxious and watchful.
The villagers were beginning to stir. An apprentice to the mage trainer approached Nen’din just as Khelinda did. Khelinda recognized her from her frequent visits to Ken’jai, but did not know her. She eyed Nen’din up and down as she walked towards him, hips swaying, bare feet slapping the ground. Taking little notice of anyone else, the mage apprentice stepped boldly up to Nen’din and nipped his ear playfully, purring softly, flirting with him. Before she thought about what she was doing, Khelinda rushed close to the other female, growling low and menacing, warning her off. Khelinda had never felt such a surge of rage flare within her—it was a good feeling. The mage apprentice yelped in surprise, growled back, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Take him then,” she scoffed and spit on the ground at Khelinda’s feet. She whirled and sashayed back to her own hut, pointedly ignoring everyone.
Nen’din looked at her in surprise, looked around at his friends, then a wicked grin spread across his face. He leaned close and whispered something in her ear that made her blush fiercely. Khelinda giggled, batted at him halfheartedly, reminding him “My mother is right there! And believe me, you don’t want to risk her displeasure!” Ken’jai ignored them, studying the morning sky, looking exhausted but pleased with the night’s work.
Khelinda walked over, sat by the fire and woke her mother. “It is done, Mother.” Her mother sat up, rubbed her eyes, and said, “I am pleased. Mish’ki lives on. Let’s go home.” Nen’din, Jos, Mif’tah and Trayex accompanied them to her mother’s hut where she fed them a feast of battered boar ribs and leftover strider stew. One by one the exhausted trolls wandered to their own homes to sleep, leaving only Nen’din, Khelinda and her mother in the hut. Her mother busily cleaned the cooking area, ignoring the two young ones. Khelinda stepped outside with him as he prepared to leave.
Nen’din leaned close to her, face almost touching hers. “I guess I’ll see you soon?” Khelinda whispered, “Ya, Mon,” close to his ear. They laughed and Nen’din headed off into the morning, towards Orgrimmar, back to his training grounds.
She watched him walk away until he was just a speck on the horizon. Then it started to rain, a rare thing in Durotar, and still she watched where he had been, getting soaked, until she felt her mother place a hand on her shoulder.
“So. That one,” her mother said.
Khelinda answered, “Yes, that one.”
“You could do worse,” her mother grumbled as she shuffled back inside.
