Reports of His Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

[Bricu]

A Possible Future: Written while I should have been working.


A few days ago

Bricu felt the Dragonkin's spear rattle off his helmet, and for a few brief moments, he was inbetween worlds.

He was dimly aware that he was floating back to his body when he saw the Angel. When their eyes met, she spoke words of comfort directly to his spirit.

"Do not worry warrior, now is not your time to die..."

"Oi, Love, when is it?"

The Angel stopped in mid sermon. Bricu forced himself to stop and look up at her. He'd stared down demons, might as well add an angel to the list.

"What are you asking me Bricu?"

"Love, I'm, asking when I am goin' to die."

"A mortal should not know..."

"Cut the bollocks love, I'm sick o'this shite about what I should, an' should not, know. There are ways o'findin' out."

"You would risk your immortal soul to find out what day you are destined to die?"

"Not completely; maybe just a wee bit o'it. Unless, love, you want to do the right thing. You know that in me heart, I'm, a good man. I'm repentant. I've dedicated me life to doin' right. Please love. It's a a secret I will take to my grave."

The angel looked up on Bricu and smiled. It was not one of kindness or mercy-it was condescending smile. Bricu bit his tongue and smiled in return.

"Bricu, I cannot give you the full date. But know this: One the day you lose everything you care for, that is the day you will return to me."

"Cheers love. Light be with you."

He stopped resisting the pull to his body, but he burned the angel's word into his mind.

5 years before his death

"Brick, by the spirits, why would you want this stuff? You two just had a baby; now is not the time to be morbid. Now is the time to celebrate!

"Mate, its insurance. Who is goin' to be around to take care o'me girls if its not me? Strewth, all I need is the potion. I may never even use it."

Ulthanon looked to his friend--he was aging well for someone who still smoked and drank. Bricu attributed his health and vitality to the Light--and to Threnn. Of course, he only admitted that it was due to this belief in the Light when he was very drunk--and he wasn't drunk as often anymore.

"Please mate."

"Fine. I can get you the elixir. But it won't last forever. Ten years at most. And if you feel you need some sort of "Insurance" ten years from now, we'll go on a vision quest."

"How'bout a Pub Crawl? Mate?"

"I dunno if you can handle drinkin' that much anymore Brick. Your gettin' a little grey."

"Mate, as long as I walk Azeroth, I'm always goin' to be able to out drink you. Never worry 'bout that."

The Day He Died: 10 years from now?

Everyone said Bricu Bittertongue died when New Stromgarde fell to the Scarlet Crusade. This is wholly inaccurate. Bricu died three days before, when the siege of New Stromgarde began.

After the fourth war, and reconstruction boomed, Stromgarde was high on the list of cities to be reclaimed. An allied force cleaned out the ruins of Stromgarde during a two month campaign. The Wildfire Riders had a very lucrative contract to lead that reclamation--and to protect the city while it was rebuilt. Three years after the birth of Makaranne Bittertongue, New Stromgarde stood as a shining example of the new age of Azeroth.

The new age ended two years after New Stromgarde was named the Capital of Culture for the Eastern Kingdoms. The age ended as all ages do--with war.

The Scarlet Crusade, a hold over from the previous area, thought that a city rebuilt by Orc and Human hands was too corrupt to stand. To allow Forsaken to live in ancient human lands was unforgivable. From the reconstruction of the city, they planned its downfall.

The attack started not with cannon fire, but with explosions throughout the city. Barracks, ammunition stores, key choke points--all detonated. The homes of ambassadors and dignitaries were also targeted--a sign that corrupt leadership should be taken out first.

The home of Bricu, Bishop of New Stromgarde, was on their list. Threnn Bittertongue, ni Al'Cair, and her 5 year old daughter, Makaranne, were the only ones in the house. Bricu, for old times sake, was drinking with the other Riders. He was the first to reach the ruins of his home. The eulogy he delivered that next morning was not written down by anyone in attendance--their tears ruined the ink that tried to capture his words.

Bards and gossips would often speak of how the Riders managed to organize a defense and rally the people of New Stromgarde despite their losses. It was a scene familiar to many of the Riders--an exodus south, towards saftey. As familiar as it was to all of them, Tarquin ap Danwyrith had a hell of a time convincing Bricu that it was time to go. It was the last argument Tarquin ever lost to Bricu.

"C'mon mate. It's time to go! We've got a way out, the Scarlets'll be knee deep in traps 'fore they figure it out. We'll regroup an' reign holy hell upon them." Tarq had spent the morning scouting for a weak spot in the lines--the survivors of the siege anxious to get to saftey.

The Scarlets began a barrage of cannon fire upon the City. The end was near.

"Strewth mate. Not in the cards... Now are you goin' to help me into this old get up?" Bricu was in his old armor--surprisingly, it had still fit.

"Bricu, you've got to heal those people as we leave. We've got ...other folk to back us up as we get the hell out." Tarquin whispered "She'd want you to get out mate."

Bricu paused a moment, taking Tarq's words in. He wanted to scream at Tarq--but that would get him no where. Instead, he smiled, "I know what she'd want mate, but right now, I need this. Now help me with this Breastplate. Bloody buckles..."

"I can help, but you have to come with us. This is fight we can't bloody well win mate."

"I know mate. We've already lost. I've already lost. Everythin'. This is mate. My blaze o'glory. We both know it--I'm ready for it. Why aren't you?"

An explosion nearby rocked the building where Bricu and Tarq talked. Bricu gestured as if this explosion was proof of his words. Tarq waved it off.


"Its not your time mate, she wouldn't..."

"Mate. It is. I know it is. Now help me with the feckin' armor or get out."

Tarquin fastened the back buckles of Bricu's battered plate. "ARe you finished yet?"

"Not quite. Give the old shield to another rider. I'm not goin' to be needin' it."

Bricu picked up his old Twig--the weapon he used at Sorrow's Pass. More of a club than a mace, his Twig hadn't seen use in almost 10 years. He hefted it to his shoulder, and turned to his old friend.

"We've been through Uthas, war, an' childbirth. If Marakanne...was about, we were goin' to use the name Tarquin somehow. I don't really want to outlive me daughter mate." He reached into his pack and pulled out two flasks.

"Liquid courage mate. One for you, one for me."


"Aye. Cheers mate."

Tarq took a pull on his flask.
Bricu drained his.

"Give me best to the rest o'that lot, alright?"

"Bricu..." Tarquin sighed, "Hit 'em once for me."

"Oh mate, you're three on the list."

Tarquin slipped into the shadows of the city and disappeared. He found his way back to where the survivors huddled and with the help of the rest of the Riders, he lead them to safety.
----

Bricu walked to the ruined City Center. Twig on one shoulder, cigarette in his mouth, he waited for the Crusade to reach him.

Ordered and disciplined, the ground troops of the Crusade marched into New Stromgarde, set on burning the city to the ground. They were harassed by volunteers--Riders and Stromgardians alike--some of whom survived to tell the rest of the world how Bricu died.

He waited for them in City Center. Scarlets charged him, two, three at a time. He would swing his Twig at them like a man possessed. It was not precise like Tarq's daggers or Elyle's blades. There was no flash like Genise or Catrily magics. It was not graceful like Ceil attacks. This was furious, vicious and brutal. Bricu would hit one man with the twig, head butt another one who got to close. For a moment, he was disarmed--and Bricu called upon the light and pummeled the man to death with his bare hands.

This is not to say he was not by the Scarlets. On the contrary, he was covered in his own blood. But he stood his ground, batting away the Scarlets until he saw their commander.

She was on horseback; a once pretty face damaged by time, weather and circumstance. When she saw Bricu in the center of town, stained Scarlet by the blood he had spilled, she called off the attack.

Those defenders who witnessed this reported that Bricu, once aware of her, pointed the twig at her and shouted "Teigue!"

The commander did not dismount. Instead she charged Bricu her sword drawn. She slashed downward, cutting deep into Bricu's shoulder. Bricu swung at her horse's legs, sending the two spinning to the ground. All three--Teigue, her horse, and Bricu were lying on the ground.

Scarlets attempted to race to her, but they were delayed by the volunteers. As Teigue struggled, Bricu crawled over to her. Neither of them had their weapons: Bricu dropped his Twig, Teigue had lost hold of her sword when her horse collapsed from under her. Finally, Bricu reached her, pinned beneath her crippled horse.

Teigue spit and screamed at him. "My family, my city, my brother!"

Bricu said nothing. He pulled himself close to her. As she screamed, Bricu wrapped his hands around her neck and squeezed.

"We're even love. Spot on Even."

With her final breath, she cursed his name...but Bricu had already crossed over.

---

The Angel was flew to the site of the battle--her task to sort the Light from Shadow was a grim, but necessary one. She did not sing or hum--she preferred the reverent silence in the place between worlds.

"Oi love, you were right."

The angel was too focused on the task at hand to notice--but there he was. The last spirit she was to collect, hours early.

"Bricu Bittertongue...it is not your time, but your time is soon."

"Stuff it love. I know its my time. But I'm here early; we're goin' to talk about me gettin' a pass."

Her wings bristled at his insolence. The first time he spoke out of turn, it was charming. Now it was annoying.

"I will do no such thing. Return to your body, I will come for you soon."

Bricu smiled and made a familiar gesture.

"That's not how it works right love. Right now, I'm only mostly here. Spirit walkin'. Done too long, o'course, I'm yours be default. But how far do you think I have to walk until I find someone who is all too willin' to make a deal?"

Her eyes glowed with her rising anger. Who did this mortal think he was, to address divinity in such a way.

"You would risk your immortal soul over this?"

"You already took away my heart an' soul when you took my girls from me. What more can you do? Either we make a deal, or the Nether gets me." Bricu grinned at her. "Could you image that? Bricu Bittertongue--Warlock. Demon Tamer. Why, I think it has a wonderful ring..."

"You wouldn't dare."

He didn't respond. As a spirit, he started walking northward. They both new that within an hour or so, Bricu would be surrounded by others--others who would be more than willing to make a deal for a price Bricu was obviously willing to pay.

The angel faltered. If she gave in, how many other deals would be brokered. If she did not, how much damage would Bricu cause to creation?

"Bricu, wait."

He kept walking northward.

"We can speak of these things."

"Piss off Tosser!" He spun around, walking backwards now, just to flash the angel a common vulgarity. "You promise to bring me back, or I keep walkin'. We both know you can't do a bloody thing to me until its officially me time!"

She panicked

"We have a deal! You...you win."

Bricu stopped, but he did not smile. "Good call love. Now, let's talk terms..."

---
Hours later, as New Stromgarde was left ghosts and crows, Bricu stirred. The Scarlets lived up to their promise: The city was in ruins. Fires engulfed most of the buildings. Those made of stone had their foundations cracked. The New Age that New Stromgarde promised was over.

Teigue, his first love--and most bitter foe--was no where to be seen. The Scarlets left most, but not all, of their dead behind. Better they take her corpse than leave it near his...

He walked to their graves. By fate, or coincidence, they were untouched by the battle. He knelt in front of his girls and for the first time in years, he wept.

"I failed you both... Makaranne, Threnn... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..."

The shame he felt was palpable. He started in his gut and spread throughout his body. He shivered. He convulsed. He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but the best he could do was his apologize. He couldn't face them, even in their graves. He got to his feet, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, and looked for his twig

He left New Stromgarde that night. Despite every desire to the contrary, he did not look back.

[Threnn]

Threnn had time to register the dull booms as they carried across New Stromgarde. She had time to scoop up Makaranne and begin running for the door, already planning which path to the bar would most likely run them into Bricu and the other Riders, who would surely be heading this way. It was only as they reached the threshhold that she realized it wasn't just the barracks and storehouses that were going up. Down the street, there was a smoking crater where once had stood a dignitary's home.

I thought that last one was too close. Panic welled in her throat as her daughter began to wail.

She reached for the Light a second too late.

---

The spirit healer regarded her curiously. Everything was so washed out here, devoid of color and filled with the whispers of souls passing from one place to the next. Right. I've done this before. Back into the fray.

"Well?" she said, and the angel blinked.

"Pardon?"

"I know the drill. Been here before. This is when you tell me it's not my time, and shove me back into my body. I wake up all achy and go back to fighting. No need to tarry. I'm ready." Something was missing. Something was wrong.

"No," said the angel, shaking her head. "Not this time, Threnody. It is your time. Your daughter has already preceded you."

Makaranne. Oh, Light. She stifled a sob with the back of her hand as the last moments came rushing back to her. Then she looked up. "No, no. It's easy enough. I go back, and I'll pick her up. I'm a paladin. It's...it's what I do." But the angel was shaking her head, and Threnn faltered. "What do you mean, no?"

"That's not the way of things. Your time is done, as is hers. Step beyond me, now. Into the After."

Threnn took a step, but stopped. "Bricu... Does he...does he survive this?"

Something in her voice made the angel take pity. "He survives this day. But three days from now, I'll collect him as well."

She glanced behind the angel. As far as she could see, the landscape was the same - swirling tendrils of white against a pale grey. "Will Makaranne be all right? In the...the After?"

"Of course. She was young. She'll hardly even need her mother and father, there." They were meant to be comforting words, but as soon as the angel gave them voice, it seemed she realized her mistake. Perhaps she saw Threnn's brow crease in thought, or perhaps she'd merely said more than she'd intended, as many people had been wont to do in Threnn's presence, before they realized she was listening.

"I'll wait here, then," said Threnn, and the angel forced down a groan.

"No. You have to continue on. It's the way of things." It sounded like the last phrase was oft-repeated: The Way of Things.

Threnn shrugged. "Can you make me continue on?"

"Most people just do."

"But can you make me? I'm starting to think not, or you'd have shoved me along by now."

The angel closed her eyes. "It is a choice."

"Good. Well, then I choose to wait. I want to be here to greet him. I'll step on through when he does."

"You...you can't. You won't even see him when I collect him. The passing is a personal thing. No one's ever--"

"Well, then it's time someone did. There are things you shouldn't have to bear alone. Death's a pretty big one."

Her expression didn't change; the angel merely radiatied exasperation. "You get it from him, don't you?"

Threnn tried out a grin, even though her heart was being pulled in two directions - beyond the angel to her daughter, and back to New Stromgarde, to be at Bricu's side. "I probably lost more arguments to him than I won in the last ten years. But the ones I did win were because I stole pages right out of his own book. Drove him crazy when he realized I was doing it, but usually by that point, he'd already lost and we were busy making up. 'Course I get it from him." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. You've argued with him before? Over what?"

Something flashed in the angel's eyes, and Threnn held up her hands. "Okay, okay. Don't have to tell me. I wasn't supposed to pick up on that. I get it. I'll just sit here and wait. You won't even know I'm here." She plunked herself down and gave the ethereal creature her sunniest smile.

She could swear those wings drooped a bit as the angel turned her back.

[Threnn]

Three days took an eternity. Threnn sat in the twisting grey, watching the angel ignore her. She couldn't sleep - what need did the spirit have for rest? Neither did she hunger, nor thirst. There wasn't much to do, besides remember, and reflect...and wait.

She prayed to the Light, but it was cold here, and she couldn't feel its presence like she always had before. She thought of Makaranne, but that hurt too much; it almost weakened her resolve to wait for him. How easy to tell the angel she'd go, and wait beyond, where there was already someone she loved. But something kept her here, and she couldn't identify it beyond need. Whether it was her needing Bricu, or Bricu needing her, she didn't know. Tucking the memories of their daughter carefully away, for when they were all reuinited, she thought instead of the man she was waiting for.

Ten years of memories in three days. It was one of their early conversations she kept coming back to.

"Ya ever been ta Darkshore, love?" His voice was pitched low, just for her, so the other patrons in the Pig couldn't hear.

"A few times, yes."

"There's an elf there, ancient. Spent thousands o'years with his love before she was taken from him in a battle." He took her hand. Something was bothering him, something about the hostility between Delion and Indarra - it wasn't jealousy, just...sadness for the two, and maybe a bit of anger. "Thousands o' years they had together, more lifetimes than you or I could imagine."

When she turned to look at him, Threnn could see his thoughts were far away, on a lonely beach in Darkshore. She drew breath to speak, but then he was back, those green eyes pinning her. She wanted to lean in and kiss him, to ease whatever was bothering him so much. Didn't matter if everyone in the Pig turned to watch. If she could take some of the hurt away, it was worth it. But she couldn't move under the weight of his gaze, and he spoke first.

"Thousands o' years. An' it wasn't long enough."

At the time, she thought she could fathom it, or that she could at least skim the surface of that kind of loss. It was a sad story, and as they sat there in the Pig, watching the elves deceive themselves and deny what they felt, she thought she had some grasp on it.

But she hadn't. She'd been just past smitten, only beginning to realize that maybe - just maybe - she could be falling in love. Oh, she could relate to the story the way anyone who hears a good tale feels a tug at his heart, but to comprehend the fullness of that feeling? No, not then.

Now, at last, she understood. Ten years was nowhere as long as thousands, but it was more than some people would ever have.

And it wasn't long enough.

---

Every now and then, the angel would move away from her, bending down for a few moments, talking to people who weren't there. Threnn recognized the motions - it was like watching a field medic pick his way across a battlefield, where only the injured and dead remained. I can't see New Stromgarde, but it must be where we are.

The angel straightened and stiffened, staring at someone Threnn couldn't see. From the way the ethereal woman cast a glance back over her shoulder, though, Threnn knew it must be Bricu approaching. She stood and stepped forward, but the angel's wings bristled in warning. On the other side of those feathers, she could feel his presence - almost enough that if she shouldered past the spirit, she thought she might be able to reach for him. She wouldn't, though, not yet. Let the spirit healer do her thing. Don't screw it up.

It was hard, standing there, trying to peek beyond the wings, straining to hear his voice and its northern tones. I'm here, she thought. I'm here, love. Your Threnn's right here... But he wouldn't know she was there. His conversation with the angel dragged on.

Then the wings drooped and the angel turned on her almost angrily. Threnn craned her neck, but Bricu - or his presence - was gone.

"Well?" The spirit healer gestured. "He's done. And you're well past the time you should have stepped beyond."

Threnn straightened up. "That's where he is, then? Gone beyond?"

"You only delay your reunion by questioning me."

Did she cut her eyes away just now? "A few more minutes won't hurt. I just want to be sure. You looked like you two were arguing."

"We... It doesn't matter. Come, now, Threnody. Enough stalling."

"He didn't go." said Threnn, horror dawning. "You can't lie to me, can you? And you're doing a shit job of dodging."

She winced. "He's made his decision. Now you need to make yours. You can wait for him beyond."

"No. Uh-uh. Whatever deal he made, I'll match it. No questions asked."

"You... You can't. Not these terms."

"Fine. We'll strike up new ones. Tell me what you want."

"Why won't you just wait, Threnody? Everyone ends up back here eventually. Let him go."

But Threnn knew. She knew why he'd gone back. Vengeance, guilt... he'd go home and destroy himself inside. It was the way he'd been after the Rose Ball, so long ago, and after Crowley, and after... She sighed. After any time he'd slipped, or felt he had, he'd tear himself apart. He didn't think anyone knew, but she did. She always did. And now I'm not there for him. "I have to go to him. I have to."

"Maybe he went to be free of you, Threnody. Did you consider that? Maybe being married was starting to chafe at him, after all."

How much did the angel know? Vague outlines of their lives, or every detail crystal clear? "He asked me," she said. "He knew I was happy without a wedding. He knew he could walk if he needed to. Any other bluffs you'd like to toss out? Or shall we make a bargain?"

The woman in white closed her eyes. "Ten years," she said.

"Done."

One perfect hand flew up in warning. "I wasn't finished. Ten years, your voice...and your name."

"My...?"

"Name, yes. It will fail to come to your lips, or your hands, or in any other way if you try to tell it to anyone. If you find him, and he speaks it, they'll come back to you. But only if."

She didn't have to think about it. "Fine. Done."

The angel looked on her with pity. "What if he's found someone else, Threnody? A lot can happen in ten years. He can't mourn you forever."

She closed her eyes. I was trying not to think about that. "Then, as long as he's happy, I'll stay away."

"And wander the world silent and nameless?"

Threnn shrugged. "I'll worry about that if it comes. Let's get this over with."

The angel's eyes filled with compassion, or something like it. "Ten years, then. Sleep, Threnody."

"Threnn," she murmured. "It's Threnn..."

The paladin's eyes slipped closed and, for the first time in the angel's long, long memory, a spirit slept.

[Bricu]

ooooooooohhhhhhhhh. more more more.

[Threnn]

The spirit can dream. Perhaps, more fittingly, the spirit remembers.

***

Threnn walked up and down the rows of the wounded, healing the ones she could, offering water and soothing herbs to those beyond help. She knelt beside each one and chatted quietly with those who could hear. Over the sleeping ones, the dying ones, she whispered prayers. Beneath every battered helm she searched for his face, unsure whether she wanted to find him lying here hurt, or whether she'd rather live with the awful silence that came over the buzzbox a little longer. No answers meant there was hope he wasn't dead.

"Threnny," said Kaven, stepping gingerly along the narrow path between rows of prone soldiers, "you're relieved. Go take a rest." He was in full uniform, his coat's high collar buttoned, the pins showing his Captain's rank gleaming. Yet as he drew closer, Threnn could see the fraying at the cuffs and a small tear at his elbow.

With Beth gone, there's no one seeing to his mending. I'll have to remind the seamstresses to look in on him. Threnn averted her gaze before he could see the compassion in her eyes; he tried so hard to keep his sorrow confined to his quarters. "I'm fine. We're short on healers. You need me here."

"No. I need you rested. You've been doin' this since mid-mornin'."

She knelt to touch the forehead of a boy who couldn't be more than twenty. The fever he'd had early in the afternoon had broken. Now he slept peacefully. "These men don't get breaks from their pain. I don't have the right to one with so many in need of - "

"Bollocks," he said, reaching her and hauling her to her feet. "You're just hoping that one of these unlucky bastards is yours. Don't give me that look, Threnny. I know you. Been a week since his squad went quiet, an' you've been watchin' every group o'injured that's come in."

"Least I'm being productive. Could be sitting at the gates, refusing to help." She looked pointedly at his hands, which were holding the front of her shirt and bunching the fabric.

Kaven let her go. "Tell you what. Go ride the lines if you want. Hell, go sit at the gates, I don't care. Just get the feck away from here for a couple of hours, aye?"

She glanced down the long rows. The fourth war had been raging for almost a year, and this particular wave of injured had come from what was only being called a minor skirmish. "I really mean it, Kaven. I want to find him, yeah, but... these men don't get a break."

He crooked a finger under her chin and turned her face back to him. "It's an order, Threnny-girl. An' if he comes in through here while you're gone, I'll call you right back. Promise." He pulled her into a hug and she leaned against him for a moment. "He'll be all right. You'll see."

***

The camp had mostly bedded down for the night. Some officers sat around campfires, discussing the next day's maneuvers in low voices. Threnn asked after Bricu at several of them, but the answer was the same - no one had heard from him or the five men who'd been with him since six, almost seven, days ago. There'd been a cry of surprise on their buzzbox frequency, the sound of fighting, and then...nothing. Not a single one of them answered on private channels. The search party sent out after them had found one body, the abandoned camp, and trails that led nowhere. Not to mention the tabard. No. Doesn't mean anything. It doesn't.

Threnn whispered into her buzzbox anyway, hoping that maybe this time, Bricu would be somewhere that he could turn his on and listen.

Nothing.

The regiments had made their camp in the ruins of what had once been a small town. The Legion had stormed its way through months before, leaving nothing standing but a few burnt-out structures here and there, and, oddly enough, an inn, which higher-ranking officers used for their barracks. The wall surrounding the town, however, had stayed mostly intact. Oh, there were a few places where infernals had taken out huge chunks of stone, but for the most part, it made for a good perimeter.

Threnn rode out through the gates at a dignified pace, but as soon as she cleared them, she kicked Yarrow to a gallop. She rode blindly, bent low over her charger's neck, until the camp was out of sight. There was a stream where, on the rare days she and Bricu pulled the same leave, they'd meet. Those stolen hours were precious to her - a picnic of simple rations and a bartered bottle of wine, a chance to forget the war for a while. Maybe she'd guided Yarrow here subconsciously, or maybe he'd taken her by instinct, but as soon as he stopped, she knew where they were.

It was different at night; the stream, which was usually so clear, shone black and reflected the moon in hundreds of ripples.. Night birds called, the still air making them seem louder than their daytime counterparts. Threnn dismounted numbly, giving Yarrow a pat on the nose. She walked to the edge of the water and knelt, dipping her fingers into a still pool and disturbing the shimmer of moonlight.

Last time we were here, we were celebrating his promotion. Seems like it was years ago. Seems like it was yesterday.

She was suddenly glad Yarrow had brought her here; out here, she was alone. Out here, she could drop the brave facade she'd been putting on for Kaven and her patients. Out here, she could forget for a moment that she was a paladin, or a Rider, and simply be a woman - one who was afraid her husband wasn't coming home from battle.

Threnn hid her face in her hands and wept, letting fear carry her away for a while. Purge it now, so your patients don't pick up on it later. The moon rose higher.

At first, she didn't hear the horse approaching, or the sound of boots on the ground. Yarrow whickered in greeting, though, and that got through. The rider walked in front of his charger and had come close enough to touch her shoulder. "Field o'war's a terrible enough place as it is, lass. Pretty girl like yerself cryin' only makes it so much the worse."

She looked up at him and they both blinked in surprise. "Bricu?"

"Threnny? What are ya doing out of c- oof." He chuckled against her mouth as she kissed him. It was a good few minutes before he took her by the shoulders and peered down at her. "What's got ya cryin', love?"

"You. No one's heard from you or your squad for a week." She laid her forehead on his chest, her voice muffled. "They found one of your men, and false trails, and your tabard. It was... torn, and bloody, and..."

"Not my blood, love. One o'the boys'. He didn't make it." Bricu rested his chin on top of her head and sighed. "Ya thought I was dead?"

"Not for certain, no. But..." She shrugged. "Was starting to."

"It'll take more than some bloody demons ta kill me. I promise." He backed up a step, reluctantly. "I have ta go give my report, Threnn. The other three are comin' from the other direction. Should make it ta camp tomorrow if they stuck to the maps." From the folds of his cloak, Bricu produced his buzzbox. It had a deep gash in one side; the innards of the device glinted in the moonlight. "Bloody thing can receive, but it can't send anymore. I could hear ya, but I couldn't answer."

"What about your men? Why didn't they call for help? Why aren't you all together?" It took a mighty effort to stop at three questions.

Now that she looked up at him, even in the moonlight Threnn could see how tired Bricu was, how worn from the fighting. His armor was battered; sweat and dust had darkened his hair, and his beard had filled in. She bit off even more questions, pacifying herself by running her hands over his chest and arms, looking for wounds.

He smirked, but otherwise allowed the once-over without comment. "We were attacked at the end of the late watch. Only reason I have all me armor is because I was standin' guard. Me, an' Garrett... the one ya found at the camp. The others were lucky ta grab cloaks, swords an' horses. We rode away, an' lost 'em for a while, but we could hear 'em lookin'. Then Bran fell off his horse and we saw how bad he was hurt. I wrapped him in me tabard and tried healin' him, but..." Bricu passed a hand over his eyes. "I think he'd been wantin' ta go. Saw one horror too many, an' even though his wounds closed, he just... didn't wake up."

Threnn put a hand on his arm and squeezed. She'd seen more cases like that than she could count these last few months - men and women dying for no reason after a successful healing. It happened to civilians more than soldiers, but there were more than enough instances of the latter, too. "Come on," she said gently, picking up Chas' reins and passing them to Bricu. "Let's go back. You report to Kaven and get cleaned up, and I'll have a hot meal brought for you."

"Aye, but first things first." He tilted her chin and kissed her. "Not goin' ta die on ya anytime soon, love. Tarq said a long time ago I wasn't ta let ya go or get meself killed. Plan on listenin' ta him. All right?"

"'kay." She wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and found a smile. "Sooner we get back, sooner you can start making up for scaring me like that."

"Race ya, then."

***

Kaven came out from behind the table when they entered. The Captains' quarters were on the first floor of the inn, each suite of rooms consisting of a small bedroom and a slightly larger sitting room. Kaven's was dominated by a large oak table, which was currently covered in maps of the Eastern Kingdoms.

"Sergeant Bittertongue. Private Bittertongue." They saluted one another, and he grinned. "Told you he'd come back safe an' sound, Threnny-girl. An' it's good to have you home, Bricu."

The men shook hands and Kaven turned to Threnn. "I'll have him back to you before you realize he's gone. You go on ahead and wait in his tent."

She blinked at them both. "I thought I'd wait here..."

"Don't give me that look, Threnn. He's an officer. You know full well this is how it works. An' while I'm thinkin' of it, you're both to take a day's leave. If I see you anywhere near the healin' tents before the day after tomorrow, I'll have you arrested. Understand?"

Bricu was smiling; Threnn didn't look convinced. "About the leave, yes. About leaving now, no. 's nothing secret, Kav- Sir. You'll pardon if I'm a bit reluctant to let him out of my sight right now."

"Didn't ask if you liked the notion. I gave you an order."

Threnn stood taller and lifted her chin, lips quirking into a smile as Kaven frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but Bricu overrode her. "Ya heard Captain Howell, Private. Follow yer orders." His tone took her so completely by surprise, she saluted out of instinct.

Threnn had taken orders from her husband out on the battlefield many times, but never before had he barked an order at her in such familiar company. "You. The two of you." She brought her arm down and gaped between them. "Bloody unfair." They looked at her stonily, and Threnn raised her hands in defeat. "Fine. I'm going."

***

Once Threnn's footsteps faded away, Kaven let out the breath he'd been holding. "I owe you one for that, Bittertongue."

"Strewth, mate, ya owe me at least two. I'm gonna be payin' for that later." Bricu smirked. "You were just about ta cave, weren't ya?"

"Was it that obvious?"

"Not ta me, no. But I wasn't watchin' ya. I was watchin' her, an' she was about ta go in for the kill. Yer lucky I caught that, or she'd still be in here."

Kaven gestured to a chair and retreated to his own. "Aye, an' then we'd both be in trouble, for lettin' you walk into the Legion's trap." He opened a chest and produced two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. "Drink?"

Bricu accepted it gratefully, swirling the liquid in his glass before knocking it back. "I lost two good men ta those bloody demons. Sent the other three away so the one I caught couldn't try turnin' them against each other."

"You interrogated it alone?"

"Aye. Bloody things can't stand the touch o' the Light. An' they reek of shadow. Wasn't lettin' me boys too close." He reached for his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette. "So, I sent 'em home an' did it my way. Knocked it the hell off this world when I was done."

Kaven grimaced and ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair. "Nether." He unrolled more maps and spread them out on the table. "Tell me what you know, then." They pored over them for the better part of an hour while Bricu spoke, trying to discern truths and lies from the demon's words. It had painted a grim picture of warlocks holed up in the Alterac Mountains, planning to wait out fall and winter and launch a new attack come spring. It talked of troop movements and numbers, and revealed knowledge of plans that both Alliance and Horde forces had thought secret.

Kaven's face grew darker through the telling, and when Bricu's tobacco pouch ran empty, he shared his own. Neither man refilled his glass. At last he sat back. "I'll take this to the general straight away. You've no idea the service you've done for us."

"I think maybe I do."

"Aye. I'm sorry about the boys, Sergeant. We'll give them every honor."

Bricu nodded. "If yer done with me..."

"Oh. Yes. Go make my girl smile, aye?"

"I plan ta." He stood and saluted, then stubbed out the end of his cigarette.

Kaven opened his mouth to ask a question, then closed it again.

"Spit it out, mate."

He sighed. "Are you... Are you goin' to tell Threnny about this?"

Bricu looked horrified. "Hell, no. Not 'til after the war's over, anyway. I told her once, a while back, that I'd tell her just about everythin', but there were some cards she had ta let me keep close ta me vest till I was ready ta show 'em. This is one o'those cases."

Kaven nodded. "Good. You're dismissed, then, soldier."

Bricu saluted again, then turned on his heel and left.

***

"Oi, love, that's for the armorers ta do."

Threnn looked up from the blade as Bricu entered. She'd made the best of the space - sergeants got tents that could easily sleep five men - but there still wasn't much room to spread out, when you factored in the bed, writing desk, and short bench. "Not tonight. Most wives mend their husband's shirts. You know I'm awful at that. Let me have this." She offered his sword for inspection. "Look at the crossguard; it needs fixing."

He took it, noticing the weakness she was referring to, but didn't hand it back to her.

"And I don't know what you punched, but I'm amazed you could even hold Chas' reins wearing these gloves." She gestured at him with his damaged gauntlets.

He bent and took them from her hands, too.

"Then there's your breastplate. The armorers are good, but this is fine work. I'm not trusting just anyone to patch this." Threnn stuck a finger through a puncture in the plate. "Think maybe you lied when you said the blood on your tabard wasn't yours." She met his eyes and waited.

"I didn't lie. Most o'that blood was Bran's. The arrow that did that" - he gestured to the piece in her lap - "is what hit me
buzzbox. And most o'the blood from that wound stayed inside the armor. I'd show ya the shirt I had underneath ta prove it, but it was ruined. I threw it away."

Threnn hmmphed and, lacking the sword and gloves, bent to the breastplate. "Still. The armorers have enough to do. I'm capable of fixing this, and I seem to have a day off. So."

Bricu gave up. "All right, fine, ya can mend me armor. But not tonight." He sat beside her, moving aside other pieces of his battered gear. Grinning, he pulled the chestpiece out of her hands and set it aside.

She let him take it, but leaned away when he came closer. "There's some soup and bread over on the table. It should still be fairly hot."

"I'll eat later." He blinked as she found another inch to scoot back. "Are ya mad at me, Threnn?"

"Don't think I know how to be mad at you."

"Then what's the matter? Earlier ya didn't want ta leave my side, now yer pullin' away." Proving his point, he reached for her; Threnn found herself with no room left to retreat on the low bench they were sitting on.

She sighed, resigned. "I... can't give you a proper homecoming."

"Oh? And why's that? After I went an' got all the dust off, an' trimmed me beard, an' everythin'." His wink should have made her laugh. Instead, she only looked all the more miserable.

"You do clean up nicely," she murmured, and moved close enough to lay her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her waist. "It's the tea. Haven't had it in a while, because they need the earthroot for healing. Which means - "

"Threnn." Bricu waited until she looked up at him. "I mean this kindly. Feck yer tea."

"But - "

"No. We've seen enough death, love. If a life comes out o'this, what's so terrible about that?" He took her left hand and ran his thumb over the thin gold band she wore. "Been meanin' ta talk to ya about that for a while, now."

"The war, though..."

"Feck the war, too. Wars end. This one will, someday." His hand was warm as he laid it along her cheek. Threnn closed her eyes and nuzzled at it, smiling as she kissed his palm. For a moment it seemed he had the argument won, until she straightened up.

"Pregnant women can't go out on the front lines."

He scoffed. "Tell me. When's the last time ya saw battle?"

"Uh. Two months ago, just about. Been on rotation in the tents for a while. But that doesn't mean - " She stopped at the look on Bricu's face. He was about to say something she didn't want to hear. "What?"

"An' when did Beth Howell die?"

She jerked in alarm. "Two days after I came back from that fight. What are you saying?" But she knew; she could see the answer in the tightness of her husband's green eyes before he even spoke.

"Kaven's not gonna put ya back on the field, Threnny. Not after he lost his wife."

"But she was a civilian. She was..."

"She was all he thought he had left in the world. Now it's ya."

"That's not fair!" Threnn stood up and began to pace. "You don't... Commanders don't protect their friends like that. I don't want special privileges. Gods damn it. I know what I'm doing out there. Not like... Not like Beth." She opened a gap in the tent flaps and peered out, jaw clenched.

Bricu came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I know that. There's no one else I'd rather at me side keepin' me an' me men healed, love. I've requested ya a couple of times, now. Keep gettin' turned down. I'm not gonna complain about ya bein' here where it's safe, though, either."

"I should talk to him."

"Maybe, an' maybe not. Tomorrow, though, love. Or the day after." He kissed her neck and laid his hands flat on her stomach. "Let tonight be for us, hmm? Not fixin' armor or worryin' about Kaven."

She let go of the tent flap and turned in his arms, mustering a small smile. "For us, and for starting that small army of yours?"

"Och, may our wee ones never know war an' fightin'." His lips trailed along her jaw and down her throat until she groaned. "Ya said somethin' about a proper homecomin'?"

Threnn broke away from Bricu. One by one, she snuffed the lanterns by the workbench and blew out the candles, until only the one beside the narrow bed was lit. She sat on the edge and loosened the top lacings of her shirt. "You'd think married officers'd get slightly bigger beds."

"Plenty of room for us, love." He crossed the few steps to her and moved her hands out of the way. "Let me," he said, and blew out the last candle as he lowered her gently down.

***

When she bled two weeks later, Bricu did his best to hide his disappointment.

"It takes time, love," she told him, as they spread the blankets by their stream. "It'll happen sooner rather than later; you'll see."

"Aye," he said, his melancholy smile turning suddenly into a wicked one. "Guess tryin' again's the best part, isn't it?"

***

Six months later, the fourth war ended, the Legion driven back once more. Six months after that, Makaranne Bittertongue was born.