He was not wrong. He was not wrong. He was not wrong to fear for a friend’s life, to come against him and his fool plan. It was not wrong to let the Orcs linger if it meant the town remained secure. It was not wrong to know that he could not aim to destroy their camp and survive it. Why could they not learn? Why could they not struggle towards peace instead of this tiresome war?
Because they were fools. Yes, they were fools. They were a blight across the land. Yes, all of them. Not only the Orcs and their lot, but the Elves too, with their perverted tree, and the Gnomes with their defiled city. Every last one of them. They had taken the gift of Elune’s creation and chipped and hacked and burned it away until it was a hell called Azeroth. Ignorant fools, blind to the true peace visible to those who walked the Dream, they would even abandon their own children for something as petty as honor!
“How dare Whitemoon regard you as if –you- were the traitor!”
Shia nodded to himself. What gave Stormrage any right to look down on him and call him weak? He had left his friends and traveled across a sea to help them, and this was how he was treated? Well he wouldn’t stand for it anymore. He’d show them all the mistake they had made in judging him. He’d make everything right again, like it had been before he woke. Yes, he could see it, the bodies of orcs littered about the ground, the cutting machines shattered, and him, standing in the middle of it, a hero to his people. No one would call him weak. No one would call him wayward and unprepared. If only he were stronger, if only he just gave in…
There was an explosion, a ripping hot pain in his side, the bubble of copper into his mouth, and suddenly Shia found himself on his hands and knees, and then his side, curled up on the path out of Astranaar. Something hot was leaking out of him and soaking his vest, and through his blurry vision he could see Rimar stepping up to him, gun in hand and an indignant fire burning in his eyes.
“What’s wrong with ye boy? Ah say hello and ya try to fry meh wit’ green fire?”
The pain had arrived. With clenched teeth and an unhappy growl Shia concentrated on mending his bullet wound. The shot had been neat and well aimed. It was hardly more than a graze, and closed without complaint. But the pain was not gone. It was growing, sharp and tight in his gut. Shiawase screwed his eyes shut and groped for the wound with his mind, but he could find none. There was nothing wrong; why did it hurt?
“Shia? Say somthin’. Come on lad, it was no’in but a graze. Stop bein such a p***y!”
Standing back up was proving to be impossible. So was stretching out of the ball he he had tucked himself into. He could vaguely feel the pressure of his body shivering on the ground, but the touch of the dirt was dull and fuzzy.
“What’s going on?” It was Derrick, his voice high and panicked.
“I don’t know bu’ earn yer dinner and fix it! Snap outta it Shia!” A mail reinforced boot slammed itself into Shia’s back, the the impact, like the ground, was all but imperceptible. There was nothing in his mind but the singular point of pain within him, growing, burning out to his arms and legs.
“These mortals are tiresome.”
“There are no wounds. What did you do Rimar?”
“I didn’ do nothin’! This berrychild ‘ere tried to kill me!”
“They are the enemy of the forest.”
“Try blessin ‘im ‘er somthin’. Throw yer holy water in ‘is face. You want I should shoot ‘im again?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you very much.”
“They are the enemy of the Druids.”
“What was that shot? Squirrel startle y- Shia!”
“He’s freezing up, get a kit and a blanket Rimar.”
“Get it yerself!”
“Don’t argue with me! Loren, get my things. Stand back Rimar, let me try something.”
“They are our enemy, little Druid.”
“What happened? Shia, are you alright?”
“Please Loren, get my things.”
“Git his things Loren!”
“And Rimar, stand back!”
“And we will CRUSH them.”
“SHUT UP!”
The gaggle about him froze, but the whispering continued. “Kill them. Show them what you really are, what you really can do. Little Druid, obey your oath, your order, your god.”
Why would it not stop? What would he have to do to end it? Rip his ears off? Shia picked himself up from the ground. His head was as heavy as a pirate’s cannonball, and he could not keep it upright without holding it in place with both hands, but he could see again, and think again, if only enough to be overwhelmed with irritation at the voices bouncing against the wall of his skull.
“You will come to understand.”
And then the voices disappeared. Shia straightened himself out and looked around at the the people who were gaping at him blankly in a wide circle. They probably thought him mad. They were probably right. The Druid forced out a nervous laugh.
“Well… good morning.”
Rimar’s face nearly exploded into a cherry red as he marched up to Shia, looked up at the Elf, and kicked him squarely in the shins. Shia’s yowl of pain was drowned out by Derrick and Loren’s chastisement, and the commotion was enough to excite Rimar’s bear into getting onto his hind legs and roaring, just to fit in.
When Rimar made to kick Shia again Loren grabbed him by the beared and jerked him away. “Don’t do that!” She shouted. “You’re hurting him!”
“My beard I’m hurtin him! ‘eys just puttin’ on a show. Right Shia? That little mornin’ thing was a show right? Say it wasn’ and I’m shootin’ ye all over again.”
“Yes, a show. I was just exaggerating a little frustration. I’d never hurt a friend, of course.”
Rimar gave Shia a skeptical shake of the head. “Ye looked earnestly eager to shove that magic o yers in me face there. If I didn’t know any better I’d say ye looked like yer mind wasn’t yer own.”
“Don’t be silly Rimar. You over reacted, shot him, and he went into shock. That’s all there is to it, right Shia?” Loran was frowning, concerned, even though her voice was matter of fact.
“I only shot em cause he was actin’ so odd.”
“It’s alright Loren. I’m fine now. The bullet wound was nothing and the only thing that hurts is my shin. I was just a little a frustrated and took it out on Rimar, but I wouldn’t have hurt him. I wouldn’t have hurt you, Rimar.”
“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Rimar wagged his finger as close to Shia’s face as he could manage without getting on his toes, which meant wagging at the Elf’s chest. “I’m just warnin’ you, you’ve been decent so far, but ye pose a threat to me er me people and I’m aimin’ fer your ‘ead next time. Got it?”
Shia nodded. Rimar gave him a final huff before turning back to camp. “I wasn’t born yesterday Elf. I know murderous intent when I see it.”
Loren made to chastise the Dwarf again, but he was on his way down the road. Instead she pat Shia on the shoulder. “I’m sure you had a reason Shia.”
“I was just joking around,” Shiawase insisted.
Loren and Derrick invited him to breakfast with them, but Shia declined and instead set off in search for the Druids who had come to Ashenvale.
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