Honor, Oath, & Blood

Chapter 9

Whether it was the knowledge of impending battle or the battle itself that hung heavy in the air, Gylledra did not know. But it was there, it was almost tangible, a thing she wanted to recoil from but never would; she had a responsibility.

Varok was waiting a short distance away in the shadows under the trees. She hadn't asked him to come with her, but she let him see her sneak away knowing he would follow. She let out a long breath, feeling strange after speaking to Tyrande, after being forced to tussle with a Sentinel.

"Was she a friend?"

"Once upon a time, perhaps. There was much less to say than I had expected." She told him. "It is perhaps somewhat sad, that we are so very different now...I felt no connection...no bond that I thought might still be there since we had known each other for so long."

"I am sorry." He said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't be. It was what I needed to know, if there was anything left between what my people have become and what we once were. After that, I long for the quietness." Gylledra gave a sad smile and shook her head but let out a sharp breath, wanting to change the subject. "After everything that happened today, doesn't Thrall need you at the camp?" Varok frowned then.

"I thought that I was where I'm needed." He replied.

"I cannot see how my needs would outweigh those of your people..." She squirmed internally, not really knowing what she needed, but knowing what she wanted but not knowing how to achieve it. She wanted to be with him, to be his partner, his other half. She could see the confusion on his face, the consternation at her odd behavior.

"Gylledra..." He sighed and took her by the shoulders. "We've been together, we've said...I thought you wanted..."

"I do..."

"But?"

"I don't know what I'm doing, Varok. I can pretend until something is real...and I think that now this...is real." She watched his eyes, amber even at night.

"It is." He agreed.

"And...it is frightening."

"Why is that?" Varok frowned then.

"Because before...I had nothing to lose. I could fight in a battle and not think about who was dying, I only had to think of myself." She told him. "Now...I have everything to lose. My world, my people...my heart."

"Having something to lose makes a war worth fighting. It drives you harder, you strike truer, and victory is sweeter." He replied.

"Yes, I know." It was strange and disconcerting to experience the unfamiliar sensation of fear...the concern that she could lose Varok, that the world that was her home could be destroyed...there were so many more things that mattered now than even mere months before. She wasn't sure she liked it, but now there was nothing to be done about it.

"Let's go." He told her softly, taking her hand and leading her into the woods. Gylledra was acutely aware that they were not headed back toward the camp, but made no complaint. In the absence of conversation, they walked and heard only the sounds of their footsteps and the nocturnal animals stirring. There were patches of moonlight that guided the way, though they were still under the unrelenting watch of the Sentinels, of course.

Ahead was the sound of water and as they drew nearer to it, steam was visible, wafting upward into the night. There was a creek that cascaded into a grotto, the moonlight streaming in through ceiling holes that had collapsed centuries or even millennia before. The waterfall spilled into a large, deep pool before the creek continued down a low passage. There were separate pools, from which the steam was rising and Gylledra guessed that there must be volcanic activity somewhere beneath the mountain.