Michael Stackpole - Vol'jin - Shadows of the Horde

“They gonna be in irons. I gonna find you shackles of gold.”

“Acceptable.”

She held out a hand. “Your dagger.”

Vol’jin smiled. “Of course. After we have ridden back.”

“Of course.”

Vol’jin allowed himself to enjoy his freedom on the return ride to Khal’ak’s home. The clouds, as if embarrassed by their inability to match Kao for darkness, lightened. The vale again returned to its golden luster. Were I trapped in a tomb for centuries, this be the place I’d welcome for resurrecting.

Khal’ak kept him in her home. True to her word, she produced golden shackles with thick chains linking them. They proved heavier than iron, but she gave him enough chain that he could move freely. She also gave him great freedom, posting no guard, but then they both knew he’d not run while Chen and Tyrathan were being held with other prisoners.

Khal’ak and Vol’jin spent the time constructively, discussing the forthcoming conquest of Pandaria. The decision to refrain from using goblin cannons in taking Zouchin had been hers. Vilnak’dor had disagreed and ordered cannons and gunpowder for the invasion. She felt it was a sign of weakness, but the mogu had made good use of them in the past, so her master said their purpose would honor their allies.

The mogu, it appeared, had done a bit more than daydream since their empire fell. Khal’ak felt they’d done little that could be considered constructive, but despite being unorganized, they had been breeding. The plan for the invasion was straightforward enough. Zandalari troops would support mogu troops in securing the heart of Pandaria, at which point, the mogu apparently believed, everything would magically reset like jihui pieces at the start of a game.

She assumed that the Zandalari would defend the mogu holdings until they organized themselves. Then they would strike at the Alliance or Horde, eliminating it before crushing the remaining faction. The mantid to the west had always been a problem and would be saved for last. Then the mogu empire could use its magic to support the Zandalari in their reconquest of Kalimdor, then the other half of the sundered continent.

In the morning, they set out again, and early this time. The nightly festivities at Mogu’shan Palace had been muted, so everyone was up early for fear that any tardiness would displease Warlord Kao. Vol’jin was allowed to ride a raptor, with his golden chains on full display. Chen, Cuo, Tyrathan, and other prisoners came on in wagons. Vol’jin saw little of them until they reached Zouchin, where he found himself being loaded onto a smaller ship and placed belowdecks in a cabin that was locked from the outside.

His three companions, dirty from the road and bloody from abuses, smiled nonetheless when Vol’jin ducked his head to get through the hatch. Chen clapped his paws. “Just like you to be a prisoner and have chains of gold.”

“They still be chains.” Vol’jin bowed to Cuo. “I be sorry for the loss of your brothers.”

The monk returned the bow. “I am happy for their courage.”

Tyrathan looked up at him. “Who is the female? Why… ?”

“We gonna have time to discuss that, but I be having a question for you, my friend. The truth. It be important.”

The man nodded. “Ask.”

“Did Chen tell you what I said to the man we freed?”

“That I was dead. That you’d killed me? Yes.” Tyrathan half smiled. “Nice to know that nothing less than the Horde’s elite could kill me. But that wasn’t the question you wanted me to answer.”

“No.” Vol’jin frowned. “The man was wanting to know where you were. Fearing and hoping, that be what he was. He wanted you breathing, saving him, and was terrified that you were. Why?”

The man fell silent for a bit, picking at one dirty fingernail with another. He didn’t look up before he began to speak. “You were in my skin at Serpent’s Heart, when the Sha of Doubt’s energy touched me. You saw the man who gave me my orders. The man you saved was Morelan Vanyst, his nephew. My father was a huntsman before me, his before him, and we’ve always been in service to the Vanyst family. Bolten Vanyst, my lord, is a vain man with a scheming harridan of a wife. This is why he is a great comfort to Stormwind—if there is a campaign, he is all for it since it takes him away. Not that he is not manipulative himself. He has only three daughters, each married to an ambitious man with the promise of his realm if they please him. Yet, when he leaves, it’s Morelan who is regent.”

Vol’jin watched emotions play over the man’s face as he spoke. Pride shone brightly at his family’s service, only to be swallowed by disgust for his master’s family drama. Tyrathan had clearly served as best as he was able, but a master such as Bolten Vanyst could never truly be satisfied or trusted. Not unlike Garrosh.

“With anyone else, the Sha of Doubt would have ripped them wide open. They’d have doubted their worthiness to live. They would have doubted their own minds and memories. They would have unmade themselves in the blink of an eye, unable to make a decision because the sha would convince them each choice was wrong. Like a mule placed between two equally appetizing piles of hay, they’d starve amid plenty simply because they could not make a choice.”

The man finally looked up, weariness softening his shoulders and etching years onto his face. “To me, the Sha of Doubt came as a candle in the darkness of my life. I doubted everyone else and, in that instant, saw the truth of everything.”

Vol’jin nodded encouragingly but remained silent.

“I have a daughter, just four years old. Last time I was home, she wanted to tell me a story at her bedtime. She told me of a shepherdess who had to deal with an evil huntsman and did so with the aid of a kindly wolf. I recognized the story and put the altering of roles down to the influence of some Gilnean refugees who have taken up residence in our town. But when the sha touched me, I saw the truth.

“My wife was that shepherdess, so kind and so gentle, so innocent and loving. Oddly enough, I met her when I went out to destroy a pack of wolves preying on her flock. What she saw in me, I am not certain. For me, she was perfection. I pursued her and won her. She is the greatest prize of my life.

“Unfortunately, I am a killer. I kill to provide for my family. I kill to keep my nation safe. I create nothing. I just destroy things. That fact ate at her soul. It terrified her, knowing that if killing came so easily to me, I could kill anything. My life and what I had become were slowly leaching away her love of life.”

The man shook his head. “The truth, my friends, is that she was right. In my absences, as I attended to my duties, she and Morelan became close. His wife died in childbirth years ago. His son is friends with my children. My wife has been a caretaker. I suspected nothing or, perhaps, wanted to see nothing because if I did see, I’d know he’d been a better father to my children and a better husband to my wife than I was.”

Tyrathan gnawed his lower lip for a moment. “When I saw him, I knew he’d decided, on hearing of my death, that he needed to prove he could be brave too. So he came to Pandaria, and his uncle used him like any other playing piece. His escape will prove all that needs proving. He will be a hero. He can go home and be with his family.”

“But they be your family.” Vol’jin studied the man’s face. “You still be loving them?”

“Completely.” The man ran his hands over his face. “The idea of never seeing them again will kill me by degrees.”

“And yet you gonna surrender your happiness for theirs?”

“I’ve always done what I’ve done to give them a good life.” He looked up. “This is perhaps for the best. You’ve seen me. You saw my shooting that night. Part of me was shooting better than I ever have just so Morelan would know it was me. Killing is what I do, Vol’jin, and I do it very well. Well enough to kill my family.”