Of Blood and Honor (10 page)

Her eyes widened in shock. He wasn’t joking, she realized. In fact, as she looked at him more closely, she marveled at how defeated and deflated he seemed. In all the years she had known him, he had never looked this way. It frightened her immensely. She shook her head, unable to grasp the enormity of the situation.

“How could this happen, Tirion? What have you done?” she asked in a strangled voice.

He closed his eyes and held his breath for a moment, attempting to calm the furious pounding of his heart. ‘Do you remember the secret that I kept from you?” he asked. She nodded as her brow creased in anxiety. “The orc I fought with saved my life, Karandra. If not for him, I would have been crushed under a collapsing tower. To repay him for saving me, I vowed, on my honor, to keep his existence secret.”

Karandra covered her face. She shook her head as if she didn’t want to hear any more, but Tirion continued anyway.

“I was forced to hunt the orc down under direct orders. But when it came time to capture him, my conscience overtook me. To uphold my honor, I fought to free it. I was arrested on the spot and taken to Stratholme for trial,” he finished.

They sat there in silence for many long moments. Karandra sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you were thinking,” she said breathlessly. “The orc is a beast, Tirion! It has no concept of honor! You gambled all our lives on a stupid, silly whim!” she spat, careful to keep her voice down. She didn’t want to wake Taelan and let him see his father in such a state. Tirion simply sat with his head bowed. For some strange reason, seeing him in such a weakened state only made her more anxious.

“So what happens to us now, Tirion? Did you even consider that while you were playing the martyr?” she said softly, disappointment rampant in her voice.

He stood up and walked over to the window. Night had settled heavily over the fields beyond the keep. The rain continued to pour, as if nature was attempting to rid itself of some foulness in the world.

“I have been exiled, Karandra. I am to be escorted to the border at first light,” he said gravely. She blinked in shock.

“Exiled?” she whispered. “Light-damn you, Tirion! I told you your precious honor would be the end of us!”

He turned to face her. “Without honor, woman, everything we have is meaningless!” he said, motioning around at their lavish surroundings.

She waved her arm dismissively.

“Will your honor keep us fed and keep our son decently clothed? How can you maintain this senseless obsession in the face of what’s happened? What happened to the responsible man I married?” she asked.

He gritted his teeth and turned to face her. “I have always been this way, Karandra! Don’t talk to me as if it’s any surprise! You knew that marrying a Paladin would demand certain sacrifices.”

“And I’ve made plenty of them. Willingly! I held my tongue every time you rode off to battle. I sat here, alone, for countless hours—waiting to hear if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea of what that was like for me? I never complained once all those times that you left us for your bureaucratic duties. I knew you had a job to do. I knew people counted on you. But I counted on you, too, damn it! I kept it all inside so that you could ‘do your duty’ with honor. I know all about sacrifices, Tirion. But this time the price is too high.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, although he already knew the answer. She held him in her fiery stare.

“I love you, Tirion. Please believe that. But I won’t be coming with you . . . and neither will Taelan,” she said softly. Karandra turned away, unable to look him in the eye. “I will not have our son grow up as an outcast or be the subject of ridicule for the rest of his life. He doesn’t deserve that, Tirion, and neither do I,” she said.

Tirion felt as if his life no longer had any meaning. Losing the Light was devastating enough; he didn’t know if he could bear losing her too. His head spun.

“I understand how you must feel, Karandra. Believe me, I do,” he barely managed to say. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

“You’ve ruined your life. I will not simply hold on while you plummet to the bottom and ruin ours as well!” she said, almost frantically. She hugged herself, trying to calm her raw nerves. “I hope your precious honor keeps you warm at night,” she said.

“Karandra, wait,” Tirion said as she left. She walked swiftly toward her room and slammed the door shut behind her. Tirion heard the bolt lock, and the faint sounds of her sobbing.

Unable to comfort her, Tirion leaned his head against the window’s cool pane of glass. Absently, he watched as the raindrops splattered against the pane. He knew her well enough to know that she would not change her mind. He had lost nearly everything he had ever cared for. The only thing he had left in the world was his honor. He wasn’t even sure of that anymore.

As if in a daze, Tirion walked into his reading room and sat down at his large, polished oak desk. He lit a few candles and gathered up a piece of parchment, ink and a new quill. Without really knowing exactly what he wanted to say, he started scribbling down his thoughts on the parchment. His hand shook as he wrote, smearing the ink in spots. He emptied his heart out onto the parchment, expressing everything he felt, explaining everything he had done. He sat at the desk and wrote late into the night.

*    *    *

Morning was only an hour off when Tirion entered Taelan’s darkened room. Karandra had cried herself to sleep hours before, so Tirion knew he would be undisturbed. He walked over to where his son lay sleeping peacefully. Snuggled in his blankets, the boy breathed steadily. Tirion watched him sleep for a while, awed by the child’s innocence and purity. He knew his son deserved better than a life of forced exile. He deserved all of the good things life had to offer.

With a shaky hand, Tirion reached into his coat pocket and retrieved the rolled parchment he had written. Tears filled his eyes as he carefully placed the note under his son’s pillow.
Perhaps someday the boy might understand what I’ve done,
he hoped.
Perhaps somehow he’ll look back on me and be proud.
Tirion patted the boy’s head and kissed him on the cheek.

“Good-bye, my son,” he said, fighting back his tears. “Be good.”

With that, he quietly left and closed the door behind him.

*    *    *

Dawn had broken over the tranquil fields of Hearthglen. The oppressive storm clouds had blown away and the sky was bright and crystal clear. In a few hours, the old orc Eitrigg would be hanged in Stratholme. Tirion had decided that he would not let that happen. Whatever else transpired, Eitrigg would not die. He had little trouble bypassing the keep’s lax guardsmen and reaching the stables. As quietly as he could, he saddled Mirador and prepared his meager supplies for the journey to Stratholme.

He placed his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself up onto his horse.

“This is the second time I’ve caught you trying to sneak off, Tirion,” Arden said, standing in the entranceway. Tirion’s heart froze. He looked around and saw that there were no guards with the captain. In fact, there was no escort party to be seen anywhere.

“I figured you’d try something like this,” the captain said.

Tirion gripped his reins tightly and cleared his throat. “Are you here to stop me, Arden?” he asked tightly.

The captain walked over and tightened the straps of Mirador’s saddlebags. “Even if I had a mind to, I doubt that I could,” Arden replied honestly. “I sat up all night thinking about what you said at the trial. I think perhaps I understand how you felt. You were only doing what you thought was right. You always have. For that, I cannot condemn you.”

Tirion nodded and leaned down. He placed his hand on Arden’s shoulder.

“I need to ask you a favor, old friend. It is the most important thing I’ve ever asked of you,” he said breathlessly.

Arden looked up at him gravely. “Whatever is in my power to do, I will do,” the captain said.

“Watch over them for me, Arden. Keep my boy safe,” Tirion said.

Arden reached up and took hold of his friend’s hand. “I will,” was all he could say.

Satisfied, Tirion nodded to Arden and looked out toward the distant tree line. He dug his spurs into Mirador’s sides and thundered out of the stables. Stratholme was only a few hours away. If he rode like the wind, he would make it in time to stop the hanging. He charged down the path at breakneck speed, pushing the faithful Mirador faster and harder than he ever had before.

The  Drums  of  War

T
irion made good time reaching Stratholme. The sun had just barely crested the distant Alterac peaks by the time he reached the city’s outskirts. He had tethered Mirador in the woods and ran the last quarter mile to the city. As he ran, he attempted to formulate a plan to save old Eitrigg. Much to his dismay, he came up with nothing. He hoped that when the time came, he would think of something brilliant that didn’t involve killing or injuring his own people. However, seeing as how he was a convicted traitor, they certainly would have no qualms about killing him. He knew that the likelihood of saving the orc and escaping Stratholme alive was slim.

Undeterred, Tirion stealthily made his way through Stratholme’s quiet, cobblestone streets. A few merchants and vendors were beginning to set up their wares for the day’s transactions in the marketplace, but there were few others about at that early hour. He managed to evade the few guards he saw walking the streets. Fearing that the local guardsmen would recognize him, Tirion kept to the shadows and stayed well out of sight.

As Tirion neared the public square, he began to hear loud voices shouting and jeering. He hoped he was not too late to save the orc. He stepped into the square and saw a large gathering of men at its center. Clinging to the shadows, Tirion climbed a short staircase and situated himself in a small, recessed alcove that offered a full view of the newly erected gallows. The crowd that had gathered around the scaffolding was comprised mostly of guards and footmen. They had all come to see the spectacle of the old orc’s hanging. Thankfully, Tirion realized that the prisoner had not yet been brought out. The gathered men merely jeered and shouted at one another in anticipation.

There were a number of knights, dressed in their finest armor, surrounding the square. They stood quiet and vigilant, ready to intercede if the volatile crowd turned into a mob. Tirion recognized many of the knights who had been present at his trial. Although they were relatively calm, Tirion knew that they wanted to see the orc hanged as much as the footmen and the guards did.

After a few moments, the gathering stirred as a newcomer strode up to the gallows. Tirion saw that it was Barthilas. The young Paladin waved and shouted to the crowd enthusiastically, riling them up for what he obviously considered to be the morning’s entertainment. Tirion was glad that he couldn’t hear Barthilas’ words. He suspected that they were filled with poison and hatred. He felt a momentary pang of remorse, knowing that his beloved Hearthglen was now in Barthilas’ unstable hands.

*    *    *

Tirion watched as a second figure emerged from the throng and ascended the scaffolding. Lord Dathrohan, seemingly oblivious to the crowd’s raucous din, walked up to Barthilas’ side and scanned the square with stern eyes. He spoke to the crowd for a moment and the jeering died down to a low roar. Tirion held his breath. He knew they would bring Eitrigg out soon. Minutes passed by slowly as Tirion waited anxiously beneath the alcove. A tension built amongst the onlookers as well. They seemed more eager to watch a neck snap than see true justice met. As the din rose up again, more and more people gathered in the square. Even women and children edged closer, hoping to catch sight of the terrible orcish monster.

Finally, the gates to the nearby holding cell opened and a squad of footmen strode out in tight formation. The gathered onlookers erupted in cheers and began to hurl garbage and stones at the newcomers. Armored as they were, the footmen took little notice of the crowd’s fervor or its harmless projectiles. Their shiny armor flashed in the morning light, but Tirion could see that they dragged a huddled shape among them.

It was Eitrigg.

They stopped at the base of the scaffolding, and two men dragged the old orc up the rest of the way. The orc was barely able to stand and his green body was covered with dark bruises and lacerations.

Tirion wondered how the weakened orc could even walk. Apparently the interrogators had taken their time in beating him. Despite his injuries, Eitrigg did his best to keep his head raised. He would not give his tormentors the satisfaction of seeing him broken. Tirion knew that Eitrigg’s orcish spirit was too proud for that.

Tirion’s heart pounded in his chest. Against such a spirited group of warriors, he didn’t stand a chance of saving the old orc.
He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t even have a weapon of any kind.
He looked down and saw that the hangman was adjusting the tightly wound noose.
Eitrigg was only moments away from death.

Frantically, Tirion leaped down from his perch and pushed his way through the boisterous crowd. In their excitement, no one noticed the disgraced exile passing by them. Their attention was focused on the gallows and the beaten green beast that stood before them.

Tirion watched as Lord Dathrohan gave Barthilas a stiff salute and walked back down toward the holding cell’s gates. Apparently the Lord Commander had no interest in watching the vulgar spectacle so soon after Tirion’s trial. Barthilas was none too concerned to see him go. Smiling broadly, Barthilas ordered the hangman to put the noose around the orc’s throat. Eitrigg scowled as the rope was tightened around his muscular neck. The orc’s dark eyes stared straight forward, as if he were looking into another world that no one else could see. Tirion clawed and shoved his way closer to the scaffolding. Barthilas waved his hand in the air, motioning for silence. Surprisingly, the raucous crowd quieted down.

“My fellow defenders of Lordaeron,” he began proudly, “I am glad to see that so many of you turned out this morning. This loathsome creature that stands before you is an affront to the Light and an enemy of our people. Its cursed race brought war and suffering to our shores and murdered many of our loved ones with little or no remorse. Thus,” Barthilas continued, staring Eitrigg in the eye, “we will extinguish this wretched creature’s life just as remorselessly.” Eitrigg met Barthilas’ fevered gaze with his own. “Blood for blood. Debt for debt,” the young Paladin finished.