From the Notebooks of Dr. Derek Fuller, Late of Booty Bay

This odd tale emerged over many months at sea. My patient was thought to be deaf and dumb. Nobody recognised her, and it was thought she might have been abandoned to fend for herself at an early age. She was unresponsive to all who approached her.

Over time, however, I believe that I succeeded in gaining her trust somewhat. In any event I am quite sure I am the only one she ever spoke to during that journey, and that she never spoke when anyone else was present.

It began when she came into my care during a bout of the seafever that many contracted several times over that long, arduous journey. Before that, I had only seen her pushed by the crew into performing menial tasks on the ship. They were rough, but no more brutal to her than to the other lowliest members of the crew, and over time they seemed to develop their own kind of gruff affection for her - as if she was a kind of pet. She was patient and stoic, always appearing detached and withdrawn and remaining on the outside of our occasional shindigs. If any tried to push her too far, whether well-intentioned or out of anger, she had a way of looking at them which stopped them cold.

I often came upon her on my late night strolls around the deck. I would find her gazing from the stern, in contrast to the others who strained their eyes from the for'ard deck, week after week, longing for sight of Lordaeron. Sometimes I would join her, watching the wake of the ship for a while, and making the odd comment to her. But she never replied or really acknowledged my presence besides a brief nod as she turned to go below to her hammock.

One night, during a rather severe bout with fever, I heard her muttering in her sleep in a mixture of Orcish and another tongue I didn't recognise. I was astonished! So she could speak - and in Orcish! I scribbled down what I heard and confronted her with it the morning.

She gazed at me unblinking, still silent as ever, but when I came to check on her recovery and offered her some fish and a potion I had mixed for her, she glanced furtively around,
then muttered "Thank you" in Orcish. "You speak!" I said. She put her finger to her lips and said "Shhhh" with a small smile. I quite understood. It seemed impossible she was a spy or agent of the orcs, but her knowledge of that language could certainly be interpreted that way. In any event there were many with such hatred for the Orcs they would slay her without hesitation if they even suspected her association with them.

So, at first very hesitantly in response to questions in my clumsy Orcish, and then in snatches of whispered memories at the stern of the boat, this is the tale I was able to put
together from my notes. It isn't all her words. I interpreted her expressions, her gestures and her tone and incorporated these into what I learnt of her story.

War rages around me now, and smoke rises from our once beautiful city across the lake. I am too crippled to fight any more. In these terrible days, there is something strangely comforting to me in thinking as I write this that we are all not so different - that those we are accustomed to thinking of as beasts and murderous monsters have their own sense of honor and duty, and an ancient culture that could teach us much. Some day perhaps we might find a way to live together in a peaceful world.

This thought possesses me, and I find that if I focus on staying the shaking of my hands and writing this story, and on that nebulous but uplifting hope for peace, I can forget for a few hours that all is lost for us now.

(Sharkfyn's backstory)

My earliest memory? Struggling for breath - for life, as my mother held me under the waters of Brightwater Lake. I flailed and clutched at her dress, her hair, anything my fingers touched. Then she had me at arm's length, and I found only water.

When I ceased struggling, her face shimmered for an instant then dimmed, and hoofbeats faded away. I stayed still, suspended in the dark water and frozen with fear, until I found I didn't need to breath at all. I lost consciousness.

I awoke, gasping and shivering, teeth chattering, on the shore. A huge form with menacing horns loomed over me.

"Shhh. Be still", a deep voice rumbled, as a green glow enveloped me and warmth returned.

"What have you there, little one?". The accent was odd. I flinched and cowered back as I saw a giant hoof gesturing at me, at my clenched fist. It was my mother's broken necklace! The dark medallion, which was always hidden under her clothes, pulsated with an eerie purple glow.

The monster muttered in a foreign tongue, and I flung it to the ground.

"M..m..mama's", I stuttered. Light flew from both hooves and crackled around the medallion until the pulsing light dimmed. The strange beast picked it up and folded it carefully in cloth, then tucked it away in a leather pouch.

"Monster?", I quavered, pointing at him. A deep chuckling sound vibrated through me. "I am Turak Runetotem, little one. We are the Shu'halo - the Tauren in your tongue. I mean you no harm. What is your name?"

My mother called me many things, and none of them kind. I stared at him.

"Very well, little fish, we will find you a name."

I drank the sweet water and ate the bread offered to me.

"Come, you are not safe here." Green light swirled around the great hooves. The ground receded and darkness swirled around me. When I felt the ground beneath my feet again I opened my eyes to a beautiful tranquil lake, bathed in a soft blue light. Soothing music chimed through the trees, and lovely starry lights twinkled in the branches.

"Pretty!", I gasped, reaching out for the lights.

"I'm sorry, little fish," Turak said gently, "you cannot stay here." He led me to a small hut.

"Rest here while I speak with my brothers."

There were odd voices in a strange tongue, voices that grew loud with anger. I heard Turak's voice, low and firm. Then another calm Tauren voice, and another. Turak filled the hut entrance. The massive form dissolved and a giant bear took its place. I was too tired to be scared any more.

I remember little of the journey. I was awake only in snatches as I nestled in the warm fur of the bear's back, rocked to sleep by its steady gait. One time I was startled awake by battle shouts, and a grunt of pain from the bear, but he did not falter and only lengthened his stride. A deep sleep enveloped me.

I awoke in a bright, clean cabin, covered in a gaily coloured blanket. The room was huge, and the ceiling so high I could barely make out the great tree logs that supported the roof.
I breathed the scent of grass and flowers, and sunlight poured through the chinks in the logs. I was refreshed in spirit, but very hungry. I peeked out of the open doorway.

Turak was gathered with others around a great, crackling fire. I didn't understand their words. They were murmuring low and studying my mother's medallion, placed on a stone on the ground. They seemed to reach agreement, and Turak turned and saw me at the door.

"Aaah little fish, you are awake!"

He gathered up the medallion and tucked it away as the others all turned towards me. I shrank back inside. Turak and another Tauren approached the cabin, and he gestured me outside. I could see little of them but their boots.

"This is my sister, Gennia. She speaks your language. She will take care of you. Now listen carefully, little fish. You must do as she says, and try very hard at your lessons." He emanated a sense of calm strength.

I nodded. "Promise", I said to their huge boots.

"One more thing", he paused, as if searching for the right words. He kneeled, leaned down low and gazed intently into my eyes. I trembled at his stern expression. "You must never learn magic. You must never ask anyone to teach you magic. Your life depends on it. Can you promise me that too?"

"Not do magic tricks. Promise." I put my hand on my heart. The great head nodded once then rose again. I strained my neck to see them.

Turak glanced at Gennia, touched her briefly on the shoulder, and vanished. I'd heard a gutteral growl, but he was gone.

Gennia knelt down in front of me, and smiled. I looked up into clear kindly eyes and hesitantly, on tiptoe, stretched up to touch a huge horn. She laughed - a soft, low, soothing sound which made the corners of my mouth twitch. I was not used to smiling, and didn't know the sound of my own laughter then, but this sound was warm and comforting. She reached into her pocket and unwrapped a little parcel of fresh bread, still steaming from the oven.

Smiling, she held it out to me.

"Eat", she said.

The urchin turned to me then, with the trace of a smile. "They taught me how to be happy." she said simply, and then she nodded goodnight and made her way back to her quarters. Indeed, I mused, contentment is as nourishing as food for a child.

I noticed how the girl's face softened and became more animated when she gave me glimpses of her time in the village with the Tauren. As I got more insight into the lives and customs of this race, a thought kept returning to me. Would we humans have shown such compassion and respect towards a child of theirs? Sadly, I concluded that those we considered scarcely more than wild beasts placed more value on life, and the world that nurtured it, than we humans had yet shown ourselves capable.

Her brief stories were scattered across her early years, but as best I can make out, this continues her tale.

For my first two seasons in the village I learnt about freedom. Instead of being scolded and smacked, I was guided and encouraged; instead of wagging fingers, I
found warm laps; instead of being locked in dark cupboards, I was encouraged to run free as the wind. I heard laughter so often it became part of the background music of the golden plains to me.

I learnt to run with the young Taurens, to dodge their thundering hooves, and jump clear when they sat down with a big thump for a rest. When I tumbled through the doorway bright with excitement, my words spilling over telling Gennia my adventures, she would shoo me out again, saying, "You are not tired yet. Go chase Kyle!" And Kyle the crazy wolf cub and I would race round the village, in and out of the cabins, around the totems, with the Elders laughing and shouting "Run, Little Fish, run!" But I never caught him.

Late into the night they would sit round the fire and tell stories, while some of the younger villagers danced and clapped to the rhythm of their hooves. I only heard the beginnings of these stories, as I soon fell asleep in Gennia's lap.

Turak and important elders would often visit and one time even the great High Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof himself. I didn't see him. He came surrounded by many others, and after a night with us the heavily armored war party set off on their giant kodos towards the sunrise. His son Baine stayed behind to become Chief of our village.

Turak always brought a little gift for me, and kind words of encouragement. Sometimes he would draw Gennia aside and talk earnestly to her, making her frown. From their glances towards me I thought I had displeased him, and silently vowed to try harder to make Gennia smile.

It was in these early days that I discovered how I could make myself useful. My friend Sunraven had received a gift from her father before he left with the High Chieftain, and was sitting on the grass sadly turning it over and over in her hooves. It was a plain box with a little lock on it, but she had lost the key. I patted her and said "Your hooves are too big! Let me try." I took out my little fishing knife and with that and my small fingers I was able to get it open for her. She was so happy with her gift - a special magic healing robe - that she ran round the village showing everyone and telling them I'd opened the box for her.

After that the villagers brought me many boxes to open. The hunting parties often found them in ancient caves or on the creatures that attacked them while they pursued prey. Some were too hard and I would give them back sorrowfully, but the more I opened the better I got at the trickier locks.

I had started to learn real lessons too. Some were very hard. I had to learn a language called Orcish with all the young Taurens. I picked up Taur-ahe easily from those all around me, but this language was difficult and I was not a good student. My attention always strayed out of the open doorways onto the green plains, and despite my nimble fingers I found writing hard to do. Gennia said it would come in good time, and doing my best was what counted most.

At first she taught me what she knew of my language, but after a while those lessons stopped. When I heard that tongue I would get tremors, and dark images would flood my
mind.

"Don't say that, Genny!", she heard from me once too often, and she finally announced, "Well that's enough of that!"

My favourite lessons were with Krang Thunderhoof and Var'Jun the Troll. The shaman and druid lessons were forbidden to me by Turak and Gennia, and try as I might I couldn't tame a wild animal to be my pet - nor draw an arrow to the huge bows. The warrior's clubs and swords were so heavy I couldn't even lift them. So I would sit quietly outside the circle of young warriors, listening and watching.

One day Krang beckoned me aside after his class.

"Do you want to fight, Little Fish?", he asked. "Oh yes! I want to fight like you!", I blurted, trying to salute him and curtsey all at the same time.

He chuckled, and drew out of his pack a small, sharp dagger and a leather sheath of knives.

"I made these for you. This one is for fighting. These you can throw. I want you to practice with them for two moons, then come back and show me what you can do."

I swelled with pride and rushed back to Gennia. "I'm going to fight like the others!" I exclaimed, showing her the knives. She examined them carefully. "These are fine knives, Little Fish. Now you must earn them. Go see the Troll, Var'Jun. He will show you how to use them."

Then she went to a crate by the wall and said "I have a gift for you too. It is time you learned to help the tribe, and respect the gifts of the Earthmother. You must learn not to be wasteful." She handed me a small skinning knife. It had an ivory handle, and along one side of the blade was inscribed, "For Little Fish from Gennia." and on the other, "Walk with the Earthmother."

"Claw Stronghide and Yonn Deepcut will give you your first lessons tomorrow."

"But Genny! Krang said I must learn to use the dagger!"

"And so you shall. But first, lessons with Claw and Yonn, and you will start to make good use of the beasts you kill."

Kill beasts! The idea was thrilling and terrifying all at once. And if I paid good attention to Claw perhaps I could learn to make something nice for Gennia.

Var'Jun showed me how to fight with the dagger and throw the knives straight and true. He was a lively, funny teacher, and would break out in peals of laughter and clap when I hit my targets, and laugh just as hard when I missed. He spoke in an accent that made me smile, and often spoke Orcish so I made better progress there too.

He taught me another skill - one that would save my life many times, as well as give me an advantage in fights. It was when we were out stalking the coyotes and wolves on the plains that I noticed our prey could see me from quite a distance, but Var'Jun could hide so well he completely disappeared. "Is that magic, Var'Jun?", I asked warily. He
laughed, and did one of his familiar backflips. "Yeah mon! Dat be Var'Jun's voodoo!". When he saw my crestfallen expression, he grew a little more serious and said "Little Fish, I be teasin' joo. Dat's not real magic, jus' sumtin' joo learn." And so he taught me to slide into the shadows, and creep along so stealthily that I could even come up behind our prey, away from their sharp teeth, and stab their backs.

Meanwhile, Krang would include me in his lessons of unarmed combat which we all had to do. I had to use speed and quick thinking against their great strength and size. I was not very clever, so quick thinking is probably too grand a claim. It was more of an instinct really - sometimes I willed it and it worked.

I invented my own move, a jumping, flying kick that worked best on the druids and shamans when they stopped fighting me to weave spells. When I first tried it I was partnered with Sunraven. "Ooof!", she went and fumbled her healing spell. Frustrated, she looked to Krang. But Krang only nodded at us and said "It's fair."

She reached inside a hidden pocket in her belt and withdrew a small knife. The moonlight glinted on the blade and the intricate runic writing. I reached out for it to examine it more closely but she quickly withdrew her hand and tucked it away. "You will not tell of this, Doctor. It is just a keepsake - all I have." I smiled reassuringly. "Of course not!" I answered. I confess I was pleased with myself to have earned her confidence to this extent.

Only the ship's officers were armed, and the Bo'sun posted watch over the armory, but this little souvenir could hardly be considered a weapon.

"And do you still use other skills that Var'Jun taught you?" I had never seen any sign of this, but was thinking of her learning to stealth in shadows and fight - undoubtedly in a primitive manner - somewhat in the style of Lady Proudmoore's secret agents. Surely a savage troll could not hope to really master these skills, much less teach them.

For a few seconds she gazed out at the long river of moonlight stretching to the horizon, then shrugged. "You forget if you don't practice," she replied.

It was only later in my bunk, pondering this world she was revealing to me, that I realised how enigmatic this response really was.

I was kept very busy in the sick bay, late into the night and quite often with no sleep at all . I could scarce find the time to cleanse my instruments and mix potions before another patient knocked on the door. Passengers were presenting with the usual litany of sea illnesses of course, but the crew were increasingly appearing with quite severe injuries - evidently the result of beatings. They were tightlipped about cause.

Spotting the urchin at the stern late one night, I determined to ask her what was happening. She looked drawn and her shoulders were slumped. As I approached she turned her head away but not before I had noted a deep purple bruise across her cheek.

"Scupper?" I enquired, using the name the crew had given her. "Who did this?"

She shrugged. I pressed her further but she was as tightlipped as the rest of the crew. I sighed, and resolved to speak to the Captain next day.

"Would you tell me more of your lessons?" I asked, keen to retain her confidence and learn more of the customs of the tauren. The involvement of savages like the troll was surprising and fascinating to me too. "You were to show Krang your progress, were you not?".

She nodded, with a slight smile. "It was a good day," she said. Her back straightened and her shoulders went back. There was pride in her stance.

The appointed day came. I had enough scraps of leather to make a chestpiece, and I soaped and polished it the previous night. I'd spent the rest of the evening sharpening and polishing my knives and dagger, so Krang would see I'd taken care of them well.

Var'Jun came to the door. "Joo ready, Little Fish?"

I squared my shoulders and stood as tall as I could. Var'Jun and the Taurens towered over me, but seeing my friends there only increased my confidence.

Var'Jun led me into the midst of the ring of warriors, and saluted Krang. My heart beating fast, I took my cue from Var'Jun and made a smart salute too.

At a nod from Krang, Seikwa the Stable Master led out two snarling, snapping wolves. They were much bigger than the ones round the village and I could barely see over their backs. Their fangs were the height of my head. I was taken by surprise. I thought I would be having a friendly dual with one of my friends.

Everyone moved well back and just before Seikwa released the wolves, I used the shadows to fade and stalk around behind the closest one. I heard murmurs from the small gathering. Choosing my time, I leapt out of the shadows onto its back, stabbing as fast as I could. The other wolf leapt at me snarling. The fight became a blur to me. At first I tried to use the techniques that Var'Jun taught me, but soon it was instinct that drove the blade.

This is not an account of a heroic child fighting a wolf pack, but of a very small, rather clumsy one lent strength by fright - it dawned on me I was fighting for my life.

I remember the end of it. One wolf lay panting and dying, while the other suddenly yelped, turned and ran. I bit my lip hard as my first knife throw missed, but I got in two more to bring it down at last.

I stood there breathless and grinning, but all was quiet and nobody moved. Confused, I searched out the faces for Gennia, and she nodded slightly towards the wolves' bodies. My hands were trembling from exertion, and I was only able to scrape away some rough scraps of hide. Nevertheless when I'd finished I heard a soft "Well done!" from Gennia. A healing spell curled around me.

I turned to Krang, anxiously searching his face. Had I passed the trial?

"Come here, Little Fish", he said solemnly. I approached, heart in my mouth.

He took up a small oblong box and held it out to me, opening the lid. Inside were two shiny new daggers.

"You did your best, and met your challenge. You have earned these."

Var'Jun stepped forward with a new belt, a sheath on either side. It was just like his! Well, it was a very small version of the one he wore. I was overwhelmed and could only whisper "Thank you."

"May the eternal sun shine upon you", Krang intoned, raising both massive arms to the sky, then he turned away, beckoning Var'Jun to him. Pyall Silentstride, the best cook in the village, busied herself carving the wolves' flesh.

I ran to Gennia to show her my wonderful prizes, and she admired them with me with a gentle pat of approval.

Nobody made a big fuss, but by the end of that day all who lived in the village had made a visit to Gennia's home with kind words and encouragement, just as they did when the others passed their trials.

Var'Jun came by as I was getting ready for bed.

"Joo be fightin' four wolves when mornin come!", he said. He pointed at my new daggers displayed on the table. "Two times da weapons!"

"Now now, Var'Jun" Gennia chided gently, smiling. Var'Jun broke into peals of laughter, slapping his thigh and pointing at my anxious frown.

"I see joo early mornin, Little Fish.", he said, and went off chuckling.

The girl laughed softly at this memory, turning to share her smiles with me. I smiled back, and patted her thin hand on the rail. She quickly withdrew it, and I realised I had overstepped my bounds. "Please tell me more." I said quickly, hoping to slide over the awkwardness I felt. She was silent awhile, then continued in brief vignettes.

Gennia allowed me to join the hunting parties, and I saw how well my friends had learned their lessons. Their spells were much more deadly than they'd used in our friendly tussles. I discovered that the shamans could send bolts of lightning from their hooves, and that their totems were much more than pretty lights for feastdays. Sometimes they made all the difference in turning the fight our way. Druids had many more spells than I had seen before, and could even summon up roots from the ground to trap our prey. I couldn't help a twinge of envy at the effortless way both shamans and druids called the Earthmother and the elements to our aid - while this was forbidden to me. The hunters and warriors were far stronger than I was, and growing more skilled with their powerful weapons every day. I marvelled at how the hunters had turned the wild beasts to their loyal, obedient pets, and at the way our prey fell before the warrior's huge weapons. But if I kept out of their way and applied Var'Jun's teaching, sometimes I could make a difference too.

They all had a skill which filled me with awe, and I wanted to learn this too. It wasn't magic, they told me, but something they had learnt when they were very young.

Behind our home in the evening, out of sight of the others, I practiced stamping my feet so I could stop our prey in its tracks. Stamp! Stamp! Stamp! I went at the rabbits nibbling the grass, but nothing happened. I jumped off treestumps
and landed hard as I could. I tried different boots, and at last tried Gennia's huge boots too. Gennia found me there, red-faced from my efforts. "What are you doing with my boots!", she called out. "I'm stamping, like you!" Her mouth twitched. "But it's not working!", I said in exasperation. Her laughter went on for some minutes.

"Come here, Little Fish", she said, still laughing. She placed her huge hoof next to my very small foot. "You see why you can't do it?". It was obvious to me then. I nodded, and left the stamping to my friends after that.

Var'Jun continued to take me out in the early mornings, and his jokes and good nature made a sunny start to the day. In the evenings after hunting I worked at the leather tasks Claw gave me. Sometimes Gennia's good friend Vira Younghoof came by with a big bundle of rags. I helped Vira cut bandages, while Gennia sorted her herbs and told us stories of the Shu'halo at the beginning of time.

She turned away from the ocean and looked at me, her green eyes luminous in the starlight. They held a sadness she had not shown before.

"Those were the golden times," she said softly. "The last of the golden times."

The last of the golden times. That phrase often returned to me later, in Orcish as she had spoken it. Perhaps that boat passage was the last of the golden times for me, for despite the hardships of the voyage I loved the ocean life and found peace there. I did not know then the horrors that awaited us at the end of our journey...

I requested and received permission to meet with Captain Brent the following day. He was a strict man of formal manner and demeanor, but he was respected by the crew as a just man for his fairness in both reward and discipline on the ships under his charge. I had served with him on several voyages, and felt confident he would not permit the kind of extreme brutality that resulted in the injuries I had witnessed.

I informed him of the increase in injuries amongst the crew, some of them extremely serious, my fears that some crew would not long survive this treatment, and my conclusion that they were being deliberately brutalized. I made it clear that I required an explanation.

To my surprise he merely listened calmly to my agitated tirade.

"I don't think the problem will trouble us further, Doctor. I was not unaware of this situation. It seems the Bos'un and two of his most trusted ensigns were responsible for these beatings. I am reliably informed that they were periodically and simultaneously seized by some form of madness, particularly during the nightwatch."

"You have them under guard?" I enquired, much relieved.

"Unnecessary. Some time during the night all three of them...ah..disappeared."

"Disappeared? Who...? What happened to them?" I spluttered. Naturally I immediately suspected some members of the crew had taken matters into their own hands.

"We don't know yet. There was some blood on the deck, and on the rail, but none heard nor saw the incident. Clearly they ended overboard as there is no trace of them on the ship, but how they met their end is a mystery. We shall investigate further of course.

"Was the armory..?" "No", he interrupted, anticipating my question. The armory remains locked and I have the only key. "In any event," he continued in a more cheerful manner, "I trust and hope you will not be seeing injuries of that nature aboard my ship again."

I nodded and saluted, then hurried off to start my day's work in the sick bay.

It was three or four days later when I saw the familiar outline at the stern.

She was leaning, chin on hands, on the rail as I approached. She straightened somewhat stiffly at the sound of my footsteps. I frowned as I saw a dirty bandage on one hand and another bound around her foot and ankle.

"Why did you not report this to me?" I asked impatiently. She unwrapped the bandages and threw them into the sea. "It was nothing", she shrugged.

I sighed, and gave her a short lecture on the dangers of infection. Then, lest I alienate her with my fussing, I asked her politely, if she felt so inclined, to tell me more of her childhood days. "You said 'the last of the golden times'...?"

A change was coming over the village. The war parties passing through from the scattered villages on the plains were more frequent. Our village chief, Baine Bloodhoof, left with the warriors and did not return with them. More and more wounded Tauren were brought to Gennia and Vira for healing. Some of them had terrible wounds and needed several spells, as well as strong potions. Their kodos were in a pitiful state too.

Our hunting parties grew less carefree as we were sent out to gather lists of supplies, and soon that was all there was time for, morning 'til night.

I wanted to know what was happening, but I could glean little. Conversations would stop as I approached. My questions to Gennia were answered with "Shhh, don't worry.", or she would just say "You are too young yet, Little Fish."

A subtle change came over my friends and sometimes I caught something like pity in their glances at me. I was neither particularly imaginative nor empathetic as they were, but I felt shadows around me that were not there before.

One evening, as dusk fell, we heard a distant rumble and the faint clanking of armor. We strained eyes to the source of the sound from the darkening east - and beheld a truly awesome sight.

Hundreds of great, armored wolves bounded towards us, and astride their backs were green taurens! No...not taurens..something else. Their chestpieces blazed as they rode towards the setting sun. Taurens were flanking the wolves on their great war kodos. There was a sea of red pennants, with two great red banners carried by mounted taurens at the front. The ground shook and rumbled as they approached, and then began to vibrate with the sound of hundreds of marching feet.

"The Orcs are coming!", I heard. "It's Thrall!", said another, and.. "The Trolls are here too!". They were led by a troll with flaming red hair, and a strange mix of armor, feathers and necklaces of pointed teeth. The troll's mounts were nearly the size of our Kodos - big armoured creatures with long lashing tails, in beautiful rainbow colours.

Gennia snatched me up and ran back to her cabin. She placed me high astride a log near the rafters. "Hide!", she commanded. I faded into the shadows and peered through a chink.

The army thundered by, wave after wave of them. The bridge over the lake shook and creaked so loudly I thought it would break. I gaped openmouthed at the never-ending stream of warriors. There were strange beings with them, little dancing creatures, big blue floating creatures with glowing eyes, beautiful prancing mounts which were black as night with flaming hooves - and so many different and strange types of hunter's pets. Some of the warriors had no armour at all, just beautifully embroidered robes and staves with glowing, twirling points.

Two Kodos peeled off and thundered into the village, and the Elders ran to meet them. Turak slipped off his mount and greeted them wearily, then strode towards Gennia. The others gathered round a warrior in battered chain armour. He lifted his fearsome helmet and I saw it was our village chief Baine, the High Chieftain's son, back with us at last!

Turak's armour was dusty, but still it was a wondrous sight. It was covered in intricate pulsing runes. On his back he carried an enormous staff with three glowing balls of light twirling around a giant red gemstone.

He spoke to Gennia in a low urgent tone. She threw up her hooves then grasped his arms. She looked relieved and happy. Then, as he continued, she covered her mouth and gasped, then nodded solemnly. I jumped down and gave him a curtsey, grinning. He smiled and nodded at me. "You've grown, Little Fish!", he said kindly, reaching into his pack. "These are for you.. keep you out of mischief" he chuckled, unwrapping a bundle of beautiful hides. There were all types I had never seen before, soft fur and tough scaly ones, striped and spotted, beautiful colours. I gasped and thanked him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get busy!" he said, and with that he strode away to join the others. Gennia looked at me thoughtfully, with a tinge of sadness.

"Go to bed now", she said, then patted me briefly and joined the group by the fire. I was still awake, thrilled by the events of the day, when she returned.

"Who are they, Genny? Who are all those warriors?", I asked.

She gazed at me for some minutes, then drew a deep breath.

"That is the mighty army of the Horde." she began, and there was pride in her voice. "We have been at war with the centaurs," she went on, "in the lands to the east. They are fierce, ruthless creatures, half human, half horse."

Fleetingly I wondered which half was which.

"They killed our game, and killed our people.", she continued, "but with the aid of the Horde army we have defeated them now.

"In those lands there are humans, like you, and green people called Orcs. They invented the language you learnt. They are our friends, so we all have to learn it. The Orcs are very strong, a noble and honorable race, led by a great Shaman Warlord, called Thrall. They came from beyond the skies." She must have seen my astonished expression, for she paused, and gave a small sigh. "You have so much to learn of the world, Little Fish." I stayed quiet, fearing she would stop telling me the story.

"Many of the Orcs and Trolls are shamans, like ours. But some of the Orcs follow dark magic too. They speak with daemons, and cast evil spells to enslave them to their will. Perhaps these Orcs didn't really know what they were doing,
but their dark magic unleashed a terrible evil on us all."

I shrank down in my bed. "Thrall is a very powerful shaman, he will control the ones that follow him, but there are others, far away from here, that mean us much harm. We must band together with Thrall and Vor'jin - he is the great warrior witchdoctor who leads the Trolls - and together we will defeat them - and the terrible beings their magicks have unleashed."

I thought that nothing could stand against the great army I had seen that day.

"What of the humans, Genny? Will they come and take me away?". I shivered.

Gennia frowned, paused thoughtfully then took another deep breath.

"The Horde army defeated the warring humans, Little Fish. Many were killed and the rest fled to the south and over the sea."

A deep sense of foreboding swept over me. "Humans are enemies", I whispered.

She nodded sadly. "Some of them are."

I started at this, trying to read her expression. "And do you still think humans are enemies?"

She continued to gaze out to sea, then gave a small shrug. "Some of them are," she said quietly.

A shadow of suspicion crossed my mind. I felt compelled to ask. "Scupper, do you know anything about the Bosun's disappearance?".

I was startled again by her response. She leaned down over the rail and pointed into the deep. "Maybe HE called him!" she said, with an eerie, humorless chuckle. I was chilled to the bone.

"Doctor!" I heard then, and had to hurry away. But at least this night I knew it would not be to bodies broken by beatings.

The wounds the girl received had indeed become infected. She was carried into my surgery burning with fever and barely conscious a couple of days after I had last encountered her. I reproached myself bitterly for not insisting that she attend sick bay after I had seen the filthy bandages.

The burly fellow who carried her in was solicitous, and seemed anxious about her wellbeing. "What happened to her, Thomas?" I asked. He seemed genuinely perplexed. "Dunno. She wuz on crowsnest fer a few days. Mebbe she fell in tha bad wevver." He spoke in the low common tongue of the crew, sometimes termed gutterspeak.

I examined the wounds. There were deep cuts, swollen with infection. I feared she would lose both a hand and a foot if my skills did not suffice. However, luck and her strong disposition aided my efforts of cleansing and potions, and in a day or two she showed signs of recovery.

Captain Brent paid one of his routine visits to the sick bay.

"How is our little mystery?", he enquired. He peered at the sleeping form.

"Recovering well, Captain. If progress continues she will be back on her feet in a couple of days, But if it can be arranged, I think.. ah, less arduous duties should be assigned for a week or two."

"Hmmmm. Very well. Have her report to me when she recovers."

"Aye Captain" I replied.

And this was the moment I became a traitor. For the sake of this moment and all that I learnt from her for the rest of the voyage, these papers must be sealed and buried until I pass on.

For I did not then inform the Captain that the girl could both hear and speak, or that she could, by her account, move unseen around the ship.

I thought nothing of it then, but the thought torments me now. I was prideful and flattered to be the sole audience to this girl's confidences, and this shallow egotism may well have cost us the life of the great Dwarf warrior and leader of the renowned Aerie Raiders, Captain Brassbelly - and thereby hastened our ignominious defeat at the hands of the Witherbark Trolls.

But for then I urged her, as I assisted her to hobble to the rail for fresh air and excercise, to continue recounting her memories.

I tried to imagine the Army of the Horde being a source of pride and glory, as she had described it, rather than the bellowing, stampeding, roaring wall of savagery described to me by survivors of the wars.

"What happened after the Army came?" I asked tentatively.

"Everything changed then. Everything."

The day after the Army of the Horde marched into Mulgore, Gennia rose very early and I was woken well before dawn by the grinding of her mortar and pestle.

There was much bustle about the village. On the road a steady stream of Tauren families trudged past, carrying big bundles of belongings with earthen cooking pots swinging at their sides.

Gennia tucked a small package of bread and water and some potions into my pack, along with the hides that Turak had given me. She said I was to have a new adventure - Var'jun would teach me to live in the wilds for a few days. She told me as a test of my skill I was to stay in the shadows.

"Walk with the Earthmother, Little Fish", she said with gentle hug and an encouraging pat on the back. She gave a small wave, standing in the doorway as I crept off to Var'Jun at dawn. Before I turned the corner of the Lodge House I looked back. She was still standing there, motionless, gazing after me.

"Lessons be harder now", Var'Jun said with uncharacteristic gravity. "Dere be much to learn, not much time." He sorted through his tattered old box, and put some odd artifacts in his pack.

Instead of leaving the village in the usual way - Var'Jun loping along with me skipping by his side - we crept away stealthily a good distance from the village. As we crested a hill we saw a vast sea of tents in the distance, surrounding the base of sheer-sided cliffs with peaks that vanished in the clouds. A little closer to us I could see trees falling, and there were small parties in the foothills, hacking at the rocks.

"Stay away from dem.", warned Var'Jun, and we stole through the shadows to an isolated glade, far to the south. Hideous winged creatures shrieked and fluttered through the bare brances. "Dese be harpies. Now dey fly at joo and use dere claws, but joo jost remember Var'jun's lessons. We be fightin' dem da same way. Ready?" And so my lesson continued, until the ground was littered with the creatures. We were gathering feathers and torn scraps of cloth from the bodies when two Orcs stepped out from behind a rock.

From their armour, they were warriors, but their weapons were sheathed. Both carried pickaxes and huge sacks of ore.

"Ho, Troll!" one of them bellowed.

Var'jun bowed in that exaggerated, half-mocking way of his.

"Welcome to Mulgore, warriors. I be Var'Jun. Joo find da rocks joo be seekin'?"

The Orcs gave a casual wave of greeting.

"Rich pickings." the second Orc said.

I stared. My eyes travelled up the bulging muscles of their legs, the glinting armor, the massive shoulders and arms like tree trunks. Their faces were brutish and fearsome, with two upturned tusks, smaller and sharper than Var'Jun's. Their teeth glistened in what looked like a snarl. One had a grey topknot, bound by rough cloth. His long beard was braided, down to his waist. The other had dark shaggy hair and a rough beard.

And they were strangely, unnaturally green.

Two pairs of faintly glowing red-brown eyes were resting on me. There was a second's pause, then the ore sacks and pickaxes hit the ground and with a harsh rasp of metal their swords were unsheathed.

"Ha ha!" said Var'Jun. "Joo like Var'Jun's pet?" They glared intently into my eyes.

"This no pet!" grey hair snorted contemptuously. "Pink skin scum!" said black beard, taking a step towards us and raising his sword. I inched closer to Var'Jun.

"Har! Var'jun be jokin' wit ya! Dis be me slave. He be called Murloc." And he laughed again, as he took a couple of steps backwards, pulling me with him. The weapons lowered, but the Orcs were still glaring at me with burning suspicion.

"Does it talk?"

"Nah mon! Var'Jun cut out da tongue." Var'Jun lolled out his own tongue and made snipping motions. "Now it just go 'agglgglgglgggl' - Murloc, see?" He chuckled, and suddenly both Orcs burst into huge guffaws.

I stayed very still.

"What's it for?" asked the grey-haired Orc, now showing more curiosity than menace.

"It fetch da skin from da kills, dat's all." Var'jun replied. "Dat's all it know."

"You have to kill it, you know that, troll? Before it falls sick...."

"Oh yeah, mon, Var'jun be knowin' 'bout dat", he nodded vigorously, still grinning and drawing a finger across his throat.

They nodded back.

"Strength and honor!" they said, by way of farewell. "Yeah, mon!", Var'Jun responded.

Shaggy black beard gave me a rough pat on the head. I thought my neck would break.

"Goodbye, Murloc. Aggglggglgggl!"

"Come Vrang!" said the grey-haired one, and they picked up their sacks and trudged back over the rocks, with an occasional outburst of laughter.

Var'jun disappeared into shadows, so I did the same.

"Follow", he said.

We climbed high in the rocks to a small grassy plateau ringed with bushes. Night was falling.

"We be stayin' here now.", said Var'Jun. "Fetch me da sticks to make fire."

"Agglgglaggle" I replied, expecting a laugh. But Var'Jun was looking more serious than I'd ever seen him before. A tingle of fear touched my heart.

We stayed there for many nights. I don't remember now how long. After the time the Orcs came the days and nights seemed to blur together in my memoy.

My sleep was restless, and I'd startle awake to see Var'Jun crouched over the fire, muttering and throwing powders onto it. Other times I could just make him out squatting on a rock, gazing out into the darkness across the plains.

He'd wake me just before dawn, saying "Kill da fire", and I'd pile dirt on it until the wisps of smoke disappeared.

During the day as we stealthed about below our perch, Var'Jun showed me what berries I could eat, and which herbs would make poison for my daggers. He showed me how to make a rough shelter from hides, and how to bury everything from our kills we couldn't use. He showed me what resins to use to harden Turak's hides, and inspected the armour I fashioned carefully, sometimes ripping out the sinew I used for thread and showing me a better way. We ate once, in the evenings, and only lit the fire in a hole in the ground after the sun went down.

All our hunting was in stealth, and we only broke out of the shadows for a quick kill for supper.

So silent was Var'Jun, that my fear and doubts grew, and I kept thinking of our encounter with the Orcs. What had he meant? It was hard to tell because he joked about everything.

Finally, when I started out of sleep, oddly disturbed by a dream of a starless night sky trailed with tendrils of purple light, I said, "Var'Jun. You are not really going to kill me?"

He glanced up, then went on muttering for a minute or two. He piled little pebbles by the fire in a pattern, and drew a symbol in the dirt. Then he sat back on his haunches.

"Var'Jun?", I said, in a very small voice.

"Joo goin' to die, Little Fish."

I stared.

"What happen den, well, dat depen' on dis". He leaned over and tapped one long finger on my forehead. "Don' worry. Var'Jun not be killin' joo.", and he grinned for the first time since we'd met the Orcs.

"Everyone dies, that's what you mean?"

"Nah, mon. Da humans be dyin' by voodoo. Meddlin's from da daemons."

There was no time for further questions.

Var'Jun had stretched up to his full height, his long sinewy muscles taut and alert. He was staring intently into the night.

"Hide!" he commanded. I obeyed as I saw him fade from sight too. An eerie green ball of light was approaching, floating a few feet above the ground. It tracked to and fro as if searching, then streaked towards our fire. Slowly it circled, up the rocks, and then back to the fire where it hovered for a few seconds before vanishing.

A minute or two passed.

"Kill da fire", Var'jun whispered. He stuffed the tent and our few tools into our packs while I kicked dirt over the fire. Then I followed as he loped over the rocks, his shoulders hunched low. We travelled for the rest of that night, until he finally stopped on a barren earth plateau. "Res' here", he said, handing me a flask of water. "We be gettin' da food later."

As we stealthed after a coyote through the dawning light, a pack of six strange beasts on two legs, bristling with weapons, charged at us from a rock outcrop.

"Quillboar!", Var'jun growled. They rushed by me and hurled themselves at Var'Jun in a squealing, snarling mass. His daggers flashed so fast they seemed to trail smoke. I ran up behind them and stabbed as fast as I could, slashing at their backs. Var'Jun was bleeding badly from several wounds, and seemed to be slowing, but still his daggers sliced into our attackers, and the grunts and squeals signalled they were finding their mark. Suddenly a strange thing happened. Var'Jun began to glow red and grew bigger before my eyes! His daggers flew even faster and the screeches and squeals of pain from the beasts began to sound desperate. One was down.....two. Var'Jun made a lightning fast lunge, and another fell. But now he was bleeding from many wounds and as the red glow faded he seemed to shrink and his blows grew weaker.

"RUN, Little Fish!", he cried out as one turned and sliced across my chest with its rusty sword. At his shout, the beast turned back towards him. I jumped with all my strength and
sank my dagger to the hilt in its chest. It fell grunting at my feet.

Only two fighting now, but they were still strong, while Var'Jun was covered in blood and slowing. I felt little pain from my wound, and stabbed at them furiously until Var'Jun let out a mighty shout, "GO!" and he fell to his knees.

Shocked by the huge ringing voice, and suddenly frightened at the sight of the bloodied Var'Jun fighting on his knees, I backed away and started to run. Then I heard Var'Jun's gasp of pain and turned around.

There was no thought to it, but in a flash my knives were flying through the air, thudding into the beasts' backs. They took no notice, so fixed on Var'Jun were they. Their clubs rained down blows on his shoulders and head. Var'Jun slumped to the ground and lay still.

Transfixed with shock, I stared at the terrible sight, as the two beasts turned slowly and their squinty red eyes focused on me.

As they charged me I threw one last knife and heard a squeal. Then I turned and ran. I heard thumping footsteps behind me grow closer and heard harsh rasping breathing. My heart was pumping fast and I was gulping for air. I heard the swish of a weapon just behind me and, terrified, I desperately fixed my eyes on a gap in the rocks and willed myself faster.

And faster I went.

My feet flew over the ground, my panting slowed, my heart stopped thudding in my chest. I felt serene. The rocks flashed by. The squeals and panting behind me receded.

My feet slowed, but still I ran on, bounding over the rocks, until I stumbled and fell into a narrow crevasse.

All was still then, save my breathing and the buzzing of flies. My mind was numb. My body lay limp.

The sun passed slowly overhead.

Thomas took her to the Captain when she could walk again, albeit with a limp.

I saw little of her for several days, and I suppose she was learning her new duties. The Captain gave her the tabard of his personal guard, although I suspect her tasks were more lowly than that. She would not follow orders unless signalled by hand to do so, and maintained her silence throughout.

When I encountered her in the Captain's presence, she looked meaningfully at me, as if to ensure I kept her secret.

But I knew eventually I would find her, gazing longingly back towards the land she had loved.

"It must have been terrible for you to lose Var'jun", I said, hoping to rekindle her memory.

To my surpise, she smiled.

"What happened then? You were all alone, and lost...."

I heard the fall of pebbles close by, and something scratching at the earth.

Some animal was prowling around my hiding place. It could smell me, I knew, but as long as I was hidden I had a chance of escaping attack. Hunger was gnawing at me as it no doubt was at the animal.

My fingers groped around for a handhold in the rocks. I pulled myself up slowly until I could just peer over the edge. It looked like the great armored mounts the Trolls rode, but much smaller - scratching with its front claws, then stopping to sniff the air. Perhaps it was a young one, and weak enough for me to take on my own. I eased out of the crevice, and stole around behind it, leaping upon its back just as it started to whirl around. I slipped off the scaly skin and was confronted by razor sharp talons slashing at my chest, and fearsome teeth lunging and rending flesh from my shoulders. This was no weak baby! From somewhere deep inside I summoned the will to continue dodging and lunging at the beast. In the end it was my poisons that weakened it enough for me to make a last twisting thrust to its belly.

I skinned it quickly, stuffing the hide into my pack, then tore off pieces of the still warm flesh and ate them raw. Then I slithered back into the crack in the earth.

I licked the blood off, my own and the beasts', then drank one of Gennia's healing potions. My wounds slowly healed over as I lay back exhausted.

Now the events of the day swirled through my mind in a chaotic mosaic. The rush of the beasts past me, the noise of the fight and clashing of weapons, the terrible squeals of the quillboar, and Var'Jun sinking to the ground with a last sigh.

My knives had done nothing! I should have stayed and fought with my daggers! At least the poison might have helped turn the tide.

But I didn't. I ran away, and now Var'Jun was dead. Tears of grief and bitter shame coursed down my cheeks.

Finally, utterly spent, I fell into a restless sleep.

And that night the first of the dark dreams came...

My eyes flew open, and I gasped for breath. Shreds of the dream danced before my eyes - my mother's hands groping through the dark water for me, her hands twisted into grotesque claws.

"Give me my necklace!", she hissed. "Give it to me!".

My body shook as the mindless panic of the dream returned. I saw myself diving deeper, legs thrashing wildly, far down into a bottomless sea. And then the horrors - hissing serpent creatures with huge swords streaked towards me out of the depths, and deep, deep down a monstrous demented face, blue streams of pulsing light pouring out of its eyes.

How long did I sleep? It was still dark. I stayed awake shivering and staring into the night until the sun came up. Back at the carcass, I carved off a few more chunks of meat. But I couldn't eat. The sight churned my stomach.

I climbed to the top of a rocky outcrop and gazed around. I recognized nothing. There wasn't even any green grassland. I was utterly lost.

Listlessly I sharpened my knives.

That night I stayed awake as long as I could, nodding then jerking awake again.

But finally my heavy eyelids closed, and I drifted away into a cold, dark place.

I could see nothing but an impenetrable blackness. And then the sounds began. Long wailing shreiks, dragging footsteps, an unearthly, rhythmic sloshing sound...and then a harsh, rasping whisper, right in my ear. "Give me my necklace...". I woke up shrieking and retching.

It was daylight, though the light was waning. My eyes were open, but distantly I could still hear a voice like a remnant of the dream. I peered over the top of my hiding place again, but saw nobody about. Then the voice came again, seemingly closer. It was a male voice, forceful and commanding. "You are weak and puny, child. You cannot survive." It was scornful. "Join my legion! I will give you power. ..power over all you see ..".

I gazed around fearfully, and still found myself alone. Then the awful realization struck me. The voice was inside my head!

I squeezed my eyes shut and forced my thoughts back to Gennia and the sunny village. The voice persisted, "You betrayed them! Var'jun is dead and you are to blame! Join us!". I shook my head violently, and screamed out, "NO!". There was a thunderous crack of laughter. The voice came back, and it was chilling and final.

"Sooner or later, you will be MINE!"

I shuddered. Some of my patients had reported dreams not unlike this one...a persistent voice calling them to power beyond their imagination. What evil was at work here?

*******
Many days passed as I eked out an existence with brief forays from my crevice.

I became as feral as the animals I preyed upon. I stalked them at night and slept in brief snatches during the day. I ate their flesh raw, and drank their blood from my cupped hands.

The voice returned, again and again, and the dreams tormented my short snatches of sleep. If it were not the ghastly serpent creatures, it was the gnarled grasping hands of my mother.

I learned to flood my mind with thoughts of the village, every detail I could remember, and thus push the nightmares and that terrible grating voice to the edge of consciousness.

One evening at dusk, a haunting wolf howl echoed around the rocks. A ghostly wolf stood at the edge of my refuge, calmly looking down at me. It was beautiful! Its hide seemed made of moonbeams, and through its eyes I saw the stars. It went down on its forepaws in that universal wolf language that says "Play with me!". Then it took a few steps away and turned back as if waiting. I couldn't bear to let it out of my sight, so I scrambled up quickly and moved towards it. It took several steps more, then turned and waited again. I remembered Kyle and our games. It would never let me catch it, I thought, but I was so entranced I was content just to follow.

It picked its own purposeful path through the rocks while I stumbled after. We skirted large groups of Orc and Troll warriors, resting by campfires, and saw other columns of warriors, taurens amongst them, all marching northwards.

As we walked I felt odd tremors in the ground, and a few times a distant rumbling from deep in the earth.

At length the wolf began to climb a steep slope. As we climbed, a dark, foul-smelling fog curled around us and the earth tremors increased. The wolf snarled, and something unseen skittered away in the mist.

I stopped, panting, fearing to continue. But the ghostly wolf, shining through the mist, turned to gaze at me with its starry eyes, then continued steadily and unerringly upwards, finally coming to a halt and sitting at the entrance to a dark cave.

My heart leapt with relief when I saw Turak step out of the dark entrance.

"Turak! Am I going home?", I asked eagerly.

"Your time with us is nearing an end, Little Fish." My spirits plummeted.

I hung my head sadly, then ventured "Is it because of Var'jun?"

"No," he rumbled. "The hunters found Var'jun, and Gennia cared for him. He is well. He said you fought bravely."

"He lives!" A great cloud lifted from my shoulders before my cheeks reddened with shame. "I ran away,"I whispered.

"You obeyed his order, Little Fish. In life or death situations heroics are for fools. You saved yourself from certain death, and drew away the quillboars - and thus you saved Var'Jun's life too."

As joy and trepidation chased each other through my mind, I noticed the medallion at Turak's feet, and stepped back in alarm.

"Her's!" I exclaimed. "Indeed," Turak replied solemnly. "Take it up, Little Fish, and follow me."

I picked it up gingerly, and followed him through the dark entrance. The ghostly wolf padded silently behind us.

"Prepare yourself to fight. You must put an end to this..". At the center of the cave was a deep well, and in its depths red liquid rock churned. A red glow flickered around the walls of the cave. "Remember all you were taught." He pointed. "Now cast the medallion into the well."

I flung it in. There was a surge of crackling light. I faded into the shadows just as two hideous, armored demon creatures appeared, rushing towards us with huge glowing swords raised. Turak's form dissolved into the giant bear I had last seen so long ago, and he lunged at the closest demon. I leapt onto its back, plunging my daggers into the neck above the armor. The poison was set.

The demon roared at Turak, its swords flashing. I saw wounds open down Turak's sides as I desperately tried to position myself for the dance of death Var'jun had taught me. Turak reared up, his hooked claws slashing across the demon's chest, ripping away the armor. I saw my opening and leapt at it, plunging my dagger deep into its belly and ripping it sideways to tear out its organs.

It fell at our feet, as Turak resumed his tauren form, casting healing spells as he transformed. "Aid the wolf!", he commanded.

The ghostly wolf was lunging at the other demon, tearing at it, then dancing out of its reach. With its attention occupied, I could poison the demon with two quick stabs in the back, and then leap on its back to reach around and slice across its throat.

It fell to its knees, then forward into the growing pool of its blood.

Before the clatter of its falling swords faded away, a ghostly apparition surged up from the well. It was nebulous and misty, but I thought I glimpsed my mother's face - not snarling and twisted as in my dreams, but serene. Around her a cloud of similar apparitions twisted and turned. The cave was full of their sighs. "I am free..." I heard. "Free...", the word was whispered in a lovely lilting cadence.

The ghostly wolf howled, long and low, then slowly faded away. I turned to Turak.

"It is done.", he said, and his chest heaved in a great sigh.

"Little Fish, you have kept your promises to me, and honored your teachers." He strode quickly out of the cave. "Was that..my mother?" I asked breathlessly as I ran after him. "Perhaps", he said over his shoulder as he swiftly climbed further up the mountain. "The Cult of the Damned enslaves many souls, and medallions like hers are central to their evil magicks."

In the sunlight above the fog, at the very top of the mountain, crouched a huge winged creature. It was beautiful, glinting with brilliant bronze scales.

"Wait here", Turak commanded. I knelt down in the grass.

He approached the creature and bowed low before it. They conversed briefly in a strange tongue.

The creature nodded slowly, extended its long neck towards me, and inclined its great head. Its eyes were many-faceted, shining like gems as bright as the sun.

The next moment it rose gracefully into the sky, seeming to shift and shimmer as it flew.

"What...who was that, Turak?" I asked reverently, utterly dazzled.

"That is Nozdormu, the Timeless One. And I have kept a promise too..for a life snatched from it's destiny. But I have another promise to fulfil."

He smiled at me. "Come, time is growing short." I ran as fast as I could after him as he leapt from rock to rock down the mountain.

Did I believe her? I can't say I did. I am a practical man, and this tale had grown so fanciful that I could only imagine that her fever had visited dreams upon her that she then wove into her memories.

I can only attest that I record her tale as best I can interpret the Orcish, and that the gestures and expressions that accompanied her speech convinced me that she herself believed it.

There was growing excitement aboard the ship. Shore birds had been spotted, and the long swell of the waves was shortening. Land was near.

I attended Captain Brent's quarters as ordered, and there found the senior officers assembled. They were studying a map of Lordaeron. The girl was standing smartly to attention at the back of the room.

Captain Brent cleared his throat. "As you know gentlemen, We are nearing the end of our journey. We will set down the civilians here" He jabbed his finger at Southshore, "and take on supplies. We will then sail on to Stormgarde Keep to await further orders."

He assigned specific duties to the officers, then dismissed us.

We filed out together, with a spring in our step, the girl leaving last. I fell in beside her as she made her way aft She coiled ropes on the deck, laying aside the ones with frayed ends.

"Well, it won't be long now." I said in a rather forced tone of joviality. "What will you do?"

"I don't know." she replied. Perhaps she would stay with the ship, I thought, as she had nobody waiting for her in Lordaeron.

Her tale had seemed unfinished, and I was keen to learn how she came to find us in those last hours of panic as we departed Kalimdor. With the increased activity on the decks I thought this might be my final chance to hear of it.

"Would you care to tell me what happened to you after you destroyed the medallion?"

"Nothing much", she said. She sat on a coil of rope and began to splice rope ends.

"Oh, very well," she said with a grin.

Turak led me to the south, at a very fast pace. The rumbling in the earth grew louder, accompanied by sharp jolts.

At length we threaded our way down some very steep rocks to a small hut on the edge of a great sea.

Two taurens were standing by a fire, talking quietly. They greeted Turak warmly.

"Ah, we've been expecting you.", said one. She turned to me. "I am Mahren, and this is my friend Islen. Come warm yourself and I'll fetch you some food." I sank down gratefully on a mat by the fire, while Turak followed Mahren into the hut, conversing in low tones.

As she emerged with a steaming plate of fish, Mahren addressed me, "When you are rested, we will continue." I was exhausted. The thought of continuing anything was beyond me. "I'd like to go home now." I said wearily,

She glanced at Turak then shook her head. "Not now. Some day, perhaps.", I heard this last as I slipped down sideways and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I awoke the next morning Turak was nowhere in sight. Mahren was mixing something in a large bowl, while Islen sorted through a crate, dropping the odd item into their packs. Mahren looked down at me, her expression serious.

"We have much to prepare and I need your help. But first you must drink this. It will give you strength." I took a couple of sips from the bowl. "All of it", so down it all went. My vision shimmered, then I seemed to see all with a sharp clarity I had not experienced before.

Once again the earth shook, and a few rocks tumbled down the slope. A wave below sent up a spray of foam which fell sizzling on the fire.

"I am running out of time, and I still have need of the final ingredients for my spell. You must gather them for me while we finish our preparations. The spirits of the earth are very restless. We must use all our wisdom and magic now to help them stay true..."

"I don't deal in magic.", I said, feeling rather rebellious at being ordered about. "No," replied Mahren. "That will be a strength in your case. Go north of here. Swim up the coast - it's quite a long way. When you reach deep water dive down and open the giant clams you find there. I only need four black pearls." By now I was feeling quite defiant. I was still stiff and sore and this sounded like a lot to ask in exchange for a simple night's rest and a meal of fish. My feelings must have shown on my face.

"In exchange," she continued, and here she smiled at me for the first time, "You will receive what was promised to you long ago."

I had no idea what she meant. But before I could mount any further objections, the ground shook again, and I found myself tumbled into the sea. Mahren was looking down at me in the water. "Hurry!" she said. "Earthmother watch over you...". She quickly wove some blessings around me then pointed up the coast.

So I swam and swam, interrupted occasionally by nasty clawed creatures that would have snipped off my head had I not killed them first. Every so often I dove down as deep as I could, but didn't see any clams at all. In some areas of the ocean floor I saw fissures opening, and when I looked back to shore through the choppy waves I could see small cracks and crevasses opening up there too. It occurred to me then it was probably safer in the water than on land.

On and on I went, until the water grew darker and deeper, and the next time I dove I saw the faint glimmer of a clam on the seabed. Down I went and pried it open, and there nestled a faintly gleaming black pearl. This is easy, I thought to myself, and began to think of the journey back and a nice meal by the fire.

I'd opened several more before I found the rest, and was beginning to tire.

That's when I saw them, the serpent creatures from my dream! Up they streaked from the blackest patch of water, hissing and brandishing swords. And then - oh horror! There in the depths was the snarling, tortured face again, and that terrible voice returned.

"Now you are MINE!"

The creatures were upon me. They writhed around me slashing at me with their swords. I whirled round and round, daggers flashing, not knowing if I was hitting them or not. I saw blood in the water, then realised it was pouring out of a gash in my leg. They were closing in - all those hard, glittering eyes fixed on me with a mad hatred...I had nowhere to go.

So I vanished. I had willed it, and it happened in the blink of an eye.

The creatures swam around searching. Had I escaped? It seemed too much to hope for. I swam as fast as I could up and up towards the light, and then streaked along on the surface towards the land. My swimming slowed as the urgency lessened, and I took a cautious look back, and then down. One green shape was still there! It followed my blood trail then sped through the water straight for me. My legs scissored away from it. I leapt like a frog, then landed astride it. Without thinking, I plunged both my daggers into its eyes.

The creature thrashed wildly. Blood poured from its eyes, but still it lived on. I held on to the daggers desperately, struggling to stay on its slippery back. One thrash of that tail would kill me, I thought. The creature seemed to weaken a bit, but still it had an unnatural strength and will to survive.

And then it started to swim, slicing through the water at a tremendous speed. I gulped water and air together. Surely it would die soon...had I poisoned my daggers? My thoughts were jumbled. I couldn't remember. Then I could only focus on one thought...hang on!

And so I did. And I don't know for how long. My arms felt pulled out of their sockets. The rush of water forced the breath from my lungs.

At last the creature turned to shore, and without slowing down, rode right up on the beach. It gave a last huge gushing breath, then fell sideways, taking me with it. I lay flat on my back gasping and blinking the water from my eyes. The sun overhead was dazzling.

"That's a fine fish." A calm, familiar voice said. Turak! I jumped up, then went down on one knee as a sharp pain pierced my leg. "Shhh. Be still" he said, and I was healed.

I turned and looked. Instead of the green serpent creature I'd imagined myself riding, a fish, a very big one mind you, but no monster either, lay glistening and still on the pebbles of the beach.

I looked up at him and laughed.

"You have the gift of a name now, Sharkfyn", he said. "Remember the speed and strength and the will of the creature which gave its life for your gift."

"So your name is Sharkfyn!", I exclaimed. "May I call you that?"

She regarded me, frowning.

"No." she said, and turned away.

"Ah. Of course not." What a fool I could be. "Please continue..."

The earth rumbled and shook again.

"Go to Mahren, hurry", said Turak, pointing at the hut a short distance away."Before I go, I must give you this.." He drew a sword out of his belt and presented it to me with a short bow and a big smile. "It belonged to Var'jun, and he wanted you to have it. I believe it was forged by his ancestors in the Witherbark Tribe." I took it carefully and turned it over in my hands. Very fine work, and curious markings.

"Thank you, Turak. Now he can teach me to use the sword too!"

A slight frown crossed Turak's brow.

"Farewell, Sharkfyn. May the eternal sun shine upon you, until we meet again.." Light swirled around his hooves, and he was gone.

I was at a loss. I'd had a name, and now I had another, as was the way of the Shu'halo - but I was still a long way from home.

I ran up the rocks to the hut where Mahren was waiting impatiently. She held out her hand as I drew the pearls out of my soggy pack. "Thank you", she said simply. She tucked them away in small sack, hurriedly stuffing it into her pack.

"Ive made some food for you. You can stay here until you are rested. Be...careful" she said, and with that both she and Islen swirled light round their hooves and faded from sight.

Glumly I ate the fish Mahren had cooked for me, and as night came on huddled closer to the fire, my clothes still damp and steaming. The tremors in the earth were becoming more frequent, and now they were accompanied by a deep hollow roar.

On the edge of the ocean, I thought my chances were better. If the land blew apart as seemed likely, I could always dive out there and just avoid the black places where the nightmare creatures were.

I was achingly tired. The warmth of the fire was comforting. I lay beside it and slipped into sleep, the kind of deep sleep I hadn't had since I'd left the village.

Just before dawn I was jolted awake by a huge earth tremor. My eyes opened wide to see the stars themselves swarming and swooping in great glittering clouds against a sky deepening to a dark blood red. The trembles of the earth remained constant, with sharp jolts and jars accompanied by the crashing of rocks and splashing as they fell into the sea.

Some of the rocks rose up into strange, disjointed creatures that marched purposefully northwards. The splashes of seawaves formed into huge sloshing creatures too and set off in the same direction. From every tree and bush swarmed little starlike creatures that rose up to the skies. The earth seemed to be straining to its depths.

I lay on my back, rolled about by the earth's movement. Then the ground gave way beneath me, and once again I was plunged into the sea. I swam away from the shore and the falling rocks. Looking back I saw a stone fort that hadn't been visible from Mahren's hut. The stone blocks were crumbling, and I could see metal-clad figures falling from the ramparts.

There were shouts around me, in that old tongue that had brought dark shadows. Others were in the water - splashing foolishly instead of swimming. Some, wearing heavy armor, sank very quickly. I saw this ship looming out of the dust
and mist. There were giant whirlpools sucking everything down to the depths, sending human figures shrieking and whirling before they disappeared. I swam towards the ship, putting on a burst of speed. It was slowly turning in the water, and ropes were being thrown out from the decks.

********
Ah yes. I vividly remembered how it had been. And now I remembered something else for the first time since that day. I had glimpsed her grasping a rope, and seen a man clawing at her from behind, pulling her off it. Suddenly the man gurgled away into the depths, trailing blood, and she swiftly climbed aboard.

I remembered Captain Brent standing on the higher deck bellowing above the racket. The sails unfurled and the ship swung round to point out to sea. There were many trying to climb the sides of the ship, and many more still splashing and shouting in the water. We were dangerously overloaded. Crewmen lined the rails and pushed them off with long poles, while the ropes were drawn in and thrown onto the deck. It was a scene of utter chaos and confusion.

The whole sky flashed a brilliant white, from horizon to horizon. There was a deafening blast of sound that thundered through the rocks, and echoed round and around the bay. A mighty wind roared out from the shore, bringing mountainous waves with it. The boat was thrust forward with a tremendous burst of speed, before crashing down in a trough in the waves. There was splintering of wood, and shouts and screams, as the bow reared up again to the crest of a wave. This time the impact was less, but some spars fell to the deck in a tangle of ropes.

Gradually the sound of the wind lessened, and the waves didn't seem so wild. The deck was strewn with debris and bodies - some moving and moaning, and some rolling limply with the boat's bucking movement.

And then, quite suddenly, all was quiet.

The wind dropped. The waves stilled. The blood red clouds rolled away. Looking back at the receding shoreline I recall the steam rising from the earth as the sun came out and lit up the distant ruins and the jagged rocks tossed across the
shoreline.

And far above it all, shimmering like a mirage through the dust, did I really glimpse a great winged creature soar gracefully in a wide arc, then fade into the clouds?

An illusion. I blinked and it was gone.

As Turak once said - it is done. The Battle of Mount Hyjal has passed into legend, and the alliances formed then have collapsed into ongoing war again.

Of course we did not then know that we were distant witness to the sacrifice of the thousands of wisps which saved our world, and the destruction of the mighty eredar, Archdemon Archimonde the Defiler. But such are the lives of ordinary folk. We are tossed hither and thither by forces and entities far beyond our ken, and we must just make our own lives as best we can.

Soon Captain Brent will arrive to take me aboard his ship once again, this time for our last journey to the pirate's hideout in Booty Bay. There I shall find a safe hiding place for my notebooks.

I have no beliefs in a life after this mortal one, and have never sought fame and glory. I wish merely to live near the ocean I love, watch the ever-changing skies and the waves, and do what I can for my fellow man along the way. I care not a whit what is said of me after my death, but I plan to live out what life remains to me in peace.

I cannot know if the girl survived or not, but I think it doubtful. It was rumoured that she was captured after Brassbelly was assassinated. If true, she faced certain death at the hands of the inquisitors or a terrible living death as victim of the vile scourge minions that are ravaging our city.

I still cling to hope for us all. There is goodness and nobility in those we term our enemies, and should we ever find a way to bridge our differences we would assuredly transform our world to one free of war and the scourge, free of daemons and dark magicks - and share together the golden times.