Megaly stared through the frosted glass of the Valgarde inn at the blizzard blanketing the land. Occasionally winds would rip through the town, rattling windows and tearing loose shingles, sending them flying through the square. Though the blizzard kept the occupants of the keep holed up in whatever shelter they could find, it also kept the rampaging Valkyr from launching more of their endless offensives against them. It was a welcome reprieve.
She leaned back in her chair, settling her thick throw blanket around her shoulders again and reached for the warmed rum sitting beside her. After several sips of the spiced drink she set it aside and pulled out the book tucked beside her. She read the book slowly for her reading skills were quite weak but she didn’t have anything else to do. Nobody in the bar wanted to play dice with her anymore. She couldn’t help it if she knew the knack for getting the dice to roll well. The bartender had put rations on the booze until the storm had lifted and the supply ships could make it in to the harbor. It had been three days. Who knew how much longer it would blow.
She sighed and closed the book, staring again at the window. She had lost track of how long it had been since she’d last seen Garilos. This particular book was one he had sent her. She couldn’t tell the difference between a good one and a bad one but this one was certainly interesting. Many of the scenes in it made her miss him even more.
She reached for her rum again, the mug warming chilled fingers, and sat holding it, her thoughts running circles around themselves. When she first traveled to Northrend she’d come to the keep here in Howling Fjord and offered her blade and skills for whatever might be needed. And here she had been since. The constant offensive mounted against the keep seemed to never stop. The only reprieve they ever got was when the storms were too severe for even the hardy Valkyr to venture out. Garilos had been called away to other tasks, however. The war for Northrend was never ending, it seemed, and those skilled with the blade always needed.
She swallowed down the last of the cooling rum and grimaced as it burned down her throat. That was the last of her ration for the day but she didn’t seem inclined to drink today. “Yeah,” she muttered. “Much better to brood while sober.”
A couple brief letters were all she’d heard from Garilos in a while. She wondered briefly if he’d been hurt but shook her head with a frown. He was too quick, too smart to let anything out here get him. No, more likely he’d grown bored with her. She gritted her teeth and rose from the chair taking her throw blanket and book with her. She didn’t like the way that thought made her feel. She’d sworn to herself not to get attached too him. Each day, though, she found herself thinking more and more about him. Wondering where he was, if he was well, and if she’d ever see him again.
She entered her small room at the inn and stirred up the coals in the small stove within before adding another scoop of black rocks. She stared at the glowing embers for several moments before stripping off her boots and crawling under the furs on the narrow bed. She reached out and turned down the lantern, only the glow through the grill on the iron stove casting light in the room now. She stared distantly into it contemplating what to do next. Her sword was needed here at Valgarde. It would always be needed. The ships brought in new troops from Azeroth nearly daily. Maybe it was time to move on. There were bound to be other places that needed her sword. She could easily move on and find work elsewhere.
She sighed and huddled down into the sleeping furs further, frowning into the darkness. Much as she tried to delude herself into thinking otherwise, she knew she’d follow whatever trail she could pick up on Garilos. She wanted to see him again.
Entries (RSS)