Thrall - Christie Golden [24]
Thrall cursed himself. He had been too distracted by the elements’ pain, and he had been incautious. At least the elf was letting him speak.
“I was sent here to help you,” he said. “I am a shaman. Search my bag if you like; you will find my totems.”
A snort. “An orc, come to help night elves?”
“A shaman, come to help heal and calm an angry land,” he said. “I work with the Earthen Ring. Both Horde and Alliance are trying to find a way to save this world. Druids have a similar organization in the Cenarion Circle. In my pack, I have a pouch that carries my totems. Search if you like. All I ask is that you let me help.”
The hard pointed object was removed from pressing at his back, but Thrall was not foolish enough to strike. The elf would not be alone. He tensed as the Doomhammer, strapped to his back, was removed, but held himself in check. Hands rummaged through his pack and removed the pouch.
“Those are indeed totems,” said a male voice. “And he wears prayer beads. Turn around, orc.”
Thrall did, slowly. Two night elves regarded him. One was a Sentinel with green hair and violet skin. The other was male, clean-shaven, his green hair worn in a topknot. His skin was a rich, dark shade of purple and his eyes glowed a golden hue. Both were sweaty and soot-covered, obviously from trying to fight the blaze. Others now approached, looking cautious but curious.
The female was searching Thrall’s face, and then recognition came to her.
“Thrall,” she said, disbelieving. She looked at the Doomhammer lying on the earth, then back at him.
“Warchief of the Horde?” said another voice.
“No, not anymore, at least not according to rumor,” the female said. “We have heard that he disappeared—left his rank as warchief. Where he went, the Sentinels have not been told. I am Erina Willowborn, a Sentinel, and this is Desharin Greensong, one of the Druids of the Talon. I was part of a diplomatic entourage to Orgrimmar once.” Erina had been holding her glaive in a defensive posture; now she lowered it. “You are a very important personage, to come to our little camp. Who sent you?”
Thrall sighed inwardly. He had hoped to avoid mentioning the specifics of his task. “The rumors are true. I did leave, to help heal the damage caused to Azeroth by the Cataclysm. At the Maelstrom, working with other members of the Earthen Ring, I was found by Ysera the Awakened,” he said. “She told me of the plight of Dreamer’s Rest. That you had no shaman to help intercede with the troubled elements, and that you needed help.”
“You expect me to believe that?” said Erina.
“I do,” said Desharin. Erina looked at him, surprised. “Thrall was ever known as a moderate, even as warchief. And now that he serves the Earthen Ring, perhaps he was indeed sent here.”
“By a dragon,” said Erina sarcastically. “Excuse me … not just any dragon, but Ysera of the Emerald Dream. And carrying the Doomhammer.”
“Who would wish to help druids more?” Desharin said. “And the Doomhammer is his, is it not? He may bear it wherever he wishes.” The Sentinel had no response to that, and turned to another who had approached. He, too, had long green hair that hung unbound, but also sported a short beard. His face looked weathered and wise, and he regarded Thrall thoughtfully.
“This is your camp, Telaron,” Erina said respectfully. “Tell us what you want us to do. He is an orc, and our enemy.”
“He is also a shaman, and therefore friend to the elements,” Telaron replied. “And the elements are so troubled that we cannot afford to deny them friends. We will put you to the test, Thrall of the Earthen Ring. Come.”
Thrall followed as Telaron led him up the sloping hills closer to the blazing fire. The trees near the camp had mercifully not yet caught, and Thrall could see that they had been doused liberally with water. All the smaller scrub bushes had been cleared; only the old growth remained.
His heart ached to behold it.
Many of the great trees were already too badly burned to rescue. Others were just igniting, but the fires, angry and raw, were now spreading rapidly. Thrall recalled the blaze