Chapter 9: Flying - oh - so high...

The trained hypogryph soared under the star speckled sky, setting a firm course towards north west. Gripping the reins tightly with one hand, Severinna tried to wrap the fur lined cloak closer around her shivering frame. It had been a while since she were last flying, she remembered, as she peered into the vast darkness below. Cold gusts of wind slashed against her cheeks and seeped under the cloak no matter what she did.

Thoughtlessly, she started to hum a small tune, a half forgotten song from her childhood. She focused on a memory of sun over golden fields, the fragrance of ripe grain drifting into the air…

A sudden stab of pain in the chest pulled Sev out of reverie rather harshly. The invisible gash acquired during the fight atop Naxxanar still hurt at times. It was not a “true” wound; the flesh was intact and nothing showed the extent of damage. Blood Prince Valanor’s magic, Thassarian had explained, reflected the hurt inflicted upon himself. He had tried to warn her, but she wasn’t able to hear in the noise of the fight. It would heal in time, the death knight assured her, the same a normal cut did.

She had been ill for a couple of days, barely able to move. There were no healers in Death’s Stand and she had been too weak to transport. The Kalu’ak had sent one of their medicine men to look over her, but there was not much he could do, except for preparing her some strangely soothing tea. She had drifted a while between dream and reality, the pain just a faint memory at the edges of her consciousness, as her body, wrapped tightly into the Light, like a protective cocoon, struggled against the wound.

Once she had hoped she could become a true healer – able to mend spirit and flesh alike. The eldest members of the Silver Hand had all been clerics before taking up the sword, and there was much too learn from them in the ways of Light. But then the war came, abruptly shattering her world. The sword became all - the endless fight against the Scourge. Sometimes even the Light seemed to wink out like a gutted candle. She hanged on to the familiar prayers and rituals, seeking a peace that did not come anymore…

With a sigh, Sev pushed the thought away and scanned again the land beneath. The wind seemed milder if she stayed like that, her torso against the hypogryph’s back.
Too many things had happened of late. Only the evening before she had found herself thinking how much she yearned for the times when good was good and wrong was wrong and no path to tread in between. But then, who decided what was good and what wrong?

“You can say that again”, Thassarian had commented, seating himself next to her. She had blinked in surprise, then understood she had been speaking her thoughts loudly. With a barely hidden smile, he handed her a steaming mug and Sev wrinkled her nose at the fragrance. Kalu’ak tea. She wasn’t sure the mixture didn’t contain some powdered fish as well.

As the saying went in the Plaguelands, when one met a death knight you either slew it or died. Usually the second one. You definitely didn’t have one watching over you, bringing you medicine tea.

“What did it feel like?” she had suddenly asked, warming her hands around the mug. From their vantage point, they could see a large portion of the coast, far to the east and west, small lights sparkling in the darkness here and there. “Do you…remember?”

It had been difficult to see Thassarian’s expression in the sunset shadows.
“I do”, he had answered after a moment. “Not all of it. Some memories are dimmer – like when you wake up after a night of heavy drinking. Others are clear, as if it happened yesterday. I remember the screams…and the blood…and the pleas to be spared…Somehow it didn’t seem…wrong at that time.” He paused for a while, staring into the distance. “I remember his voice in my head, drowning everything else.”

“You had no control over your choices.” Realization had come as a shock and she had to take a mouthful of the horrid tasting tea to hid her embarrassment.

“I surrendered it…willingly. In the beginning. Then…it didn’t matter anymore. I was aware of what I did – yet felt nothing at all. No remorse, no shame.” His voice was calm in a disquieting way. Severinna had felt a chill running down her spine.

With a sigh, she shifted to a more comfortable position. The hypogryph cut like an arrow through the night skies, taking her closer to the target of her journey. Maybe to the end of it. Sev started humming again.