The World as it Should Be

“Sejova traveled with a Paladin named Vishina for a few years. I never met her, but my sister mentioned her in letters. The last letter I got mentioned how Sejova was going to the Plaguelands to meet up with her. Oh how could I have been so stupid?!”



She was babbling, lying on her back while he watched her intently, his head propped on his elbow. It had all come rushing back to her, when she would get the occasional letter from Sejova, typically devoid of information or anything personal, but she remembered the Paladin being mentioned. She had thought it odd at the time, Sejova almost never includes anything that could lead back to her. Now it occurred to her that that had been Sejova's way of letting her family know that she had a friend...or maybe more.



Deydis was mulling it over, and said, “So Vishina goes to the Plaguelands, fights this lich, but then is killed by Cernack and his group, Sejova doesn't know what happened until Cernack is shooting his mouth off in Winterspring, she kills him in a fit of fury, then finds out who else was with him. And the coins...”



“A tree on one side and a hammer on the other,” Treris said excitedly, “Symbol of the night elf and of the Paladin. She's letting them know why she's doing it.”



He nodded and looked at nothing thoughtfully, chewing his lip. Treris felt satisfied that she had figured out what was going on, but then it hit her that to the Horde, it wouldn't matter. Would it?



“It might,” Deydis answered when she asked, “but she needs to stop. Especially before she kills Tarn. He's high up in the Tauren council, favored by Cairne. Killing him will blow this whole thing up.”



“What do you mean?”



He looked at her with a hint of concern, “His family will demand vengeance, for their honor and his. They would even strike at her family, or maybe even anyone who gets in the way.”



“Ah,” she said, going pale, “that would be bad.”



She lay there quietly, trying to think of a way to get her sister and now herself out of this. It didn't seem right though, Tarn should pay for helping to kill Vishina, in such a brutal way. She didn't like the idea of him getting away with it. She looked up at Deydis and could almost hear the gears working in his head.



“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.



“I'm not sure,” he said carefully, and then propped himself up on both elbows looking down at her, “tomorrow I am going to go to Reventusk, its just up the beach from here. There are people I need to contact and then I have to get to Tarn before Sejova does. He's in Ashenvale, at the Horde encampment there. You stay here and if Sejova comes here to kill Orlan, you need to talk her down, slow her down or something. If you can't, get to Ashenvale as soon as you can, buy a port from mage, just get there fast.”



“W-Why? What are you going to do?”



“Treris,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I know you don't have a lot of reason to trust me. But I need you to trust me now, you're the only one who can talk Sejova down from this, and she must be, otherwise, there's nothing anyone can do after Tarn is dead. If I can pull this off, she'll know justice and be free to go home.”



She looked up at him, conflicted. She didn't know if she could trust him. She loved him, needed him, but trust? But then what else did she have? Finally she nodded her assent.



Deydis nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her again, holding her close. Treris closed her eyes and tried to hold onto the moment, because she had a horrible feeling she wouldn't get another chance.





The next morning, Treris woke up feeling stiff and slightly damp. Dew had settled on her and her bedroll as the sun rose. Cursing she sat up and saw Orlan was sitting by the fire, looking at her like she was a lost rodent who kept wandering into her camp. Deydis was no where to be seen.



“He gone,” the troll said with a sniff, “He say he have business to go do quickly, that you be staying here to protect me,” the last she said with more than a touch of disdain. Treris looked out towards where the village was supposed to be, and felt her heart sinking. She missed him already.





Orlan barely acknowledged her presence throughout the day it seemed, which was fine by Treris. She still couldn't fathom what it took to stand by while someone was overpowered, murdered and defiled the way Vishina was, forget participating. Still she thought, the troll purposefully lived in isolation, in an old hut by the sea, when she could be enjoying the spoils of her conquest. She supposed Tarn did, judging by the way he had commanded those around him. Perhaps there was a bit of guilt, a bit of regret.



She thought about this as she fletched some arrows for a new bow she had gotten. For some reason the gun no longer sat well with her. It was loud and seemed to be heavier every time she hefted it. She had used it to kill Jenarra, so she supposed that must be why. Except she hadn't, Sejova had killed her, she had only delivered the final blow. Even so, even with the knowledge that Jenarra had done something so horrible to be on Sejova's knives, she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt.



“Ja, it weigh on de hart mon,” Orlan said. Treris snapped out of her reverie and realized she had been sitting there staring for awhile. Orlan was sitting by the fire, stirring up some stew, scratching Ripper behind the ear and feeding him the occasional bit of meat.



“What do you mean?” Treris asked, trying to keep her voice steady.



“When someone dies by de hand,” the troll said, “the heart, she never forgets it. Keeps reminding da head. Some ignore it, till de heart may as well not exist.”



“You haven't ignored it.”



“No,” the troll said quietly, “it be pounding in my ears at night. And it should. Dat why I don live wit de odders dere. I deserve no peace, unless through death, and dat be wat she be bringin me.”



“Well, hopefully not,” Treris said, stuffing arrows into her quiver, “there's no sense in revenge.”



The troll threw back her head and laughed madly, “Of course dere be no sense in revenge! Dat's why it is. Revenge is about de heart, about de spirit, when de mind no longer has say and de hand works on its own! Dat's why I not be afraid mon, I know dat spirit is coming for me, and I will face it.”



There was something in her voice that warned Treris and she looked suspiciously at the troll, who was sitting there humming, stirring and occasionally feeding Ripper. The cat looked sleepy, and Treris jumped to her feet.



“What are you feeding my cat?” she asked angrily.



“Just sometin soothing,” the troll said calmly. Treris was about to push her out of the way, when she was hit with something firm and small in the face, which exploded in a cloud of dust that went right into her mouth and nostrils.



“What the-” she started, but then the world began to spin and she collapsed onto the ground.



“What the fuck....” she managed to get out, looking up at the troll who was now on her feet.



“I told ya,” Orlan said, “I be facing dis spirit, my time is here.”



She looked up at something that was behind Treris with grim determination. Treris was able to roll slightly to follow her eyes and she saw a dark blur, possibly a person, coming towards them.



“Sejova?” and then it went black.