Home is Behind, Part I - A "Warcraft" Short Story

This is a shorter story I've been working on for a while. It takes place on Azeroth, the setting for World of Warcraft and its related stories and games.

I can't say yet if this is the final version but I like how it feels so far. If you'd like to leave feedback, feel free to do so in the comments. This is just the first part, there are two others to follow that are ready.

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A thick blanket of clouds, cold rain pouring from its layers, covered the northern Great Sea, shielding the waters below from the radiance and warm glow of Azeroth’s two moons. Stretched across the surface of the sea in a haphazard line, if it could be called that, ships of myriad variety sailed westward, each doing its best to not lose sight of those in front of it. At the same time, each ship also had to be careful not to go so fast as to sail out of sight from those behind it. It was a precarious balancing act, for while each captain had a good idea of where he or she was headed, none wanted to be left behind. Behind, only death and uncertainty waited.

Ahead lay Kalimdor, a massive continent largely unexplored by the races who now sailed that way, reachable only after navigating around dangerous archipelagos, unknown islands and the great Maelstrom, the enormous magic-fueled vortex at the center of the Great Sea. It cared not that those aboard this caravan of boats fled for their very lives, unsure whether they’d survive the times ahead - the Maelstrom devoured all that wandered too close.

On the Fate’s Fortune, a military brig-turned-merchantman, the night watch milled about their usual tasks: making sure her sails were secure, her lines fast and firm, her course as steady as they could manage. The air was chill, thanks to the stiff wind, and when they could the crew pulled coats tailored from seal or basilisk or kodo skins of seals around them while they shivered. Often jaunty and full of musical cheer, on this night the crew was quiet subdued from the weather, though the occasional laugh surfaced among the shouted orders and replies. They knew the plight of the refugees packed like slitherskin mackerel in the lower decks, but their life was at sea, and they felt most at home on the waves.

Belowdecks, toward the front of the ship, a dwarven woman poked her head out from a workshop and hissed at a young human walking by.

“Oi, Nikolas!”

The man stopped, almost spilling the mugs of ginger tea he had in his hands. Nikolas Greyfog turned to look at the dwarf. From inside the room he could hear a baby crying and the sound of seasickness.

“What is it, Fassie?” he asked the dwarf.

“When yer done handin’ out those mugs - that’s Geezy’s tea, innit?”

Nikolas nodded.

“Aye, gimme one here, lad,” Fastel Oaksplitter said, reaching her hand out.

“They’re for the passengers, Fassie, that’s what Gee-”

Fassie clucked her tongue at the human. “Ach, I know that. I’ve got two o’them in here with us. Ya hear that baby cryin’?”

Nikolas got a sheepish look on his face and handed Fassie one of the mugs. As she took it he looked past her into the room. Toward the back, sitting on a cot was a young human woman with raven-black hair and pale skin. She was currently leaning over a bucket in her lap, expelling the contents of her stomach into it. Nikolas could see Jovin, Fassie’s husband, holding a bundle of clothing from which he could hear crying. A “tsk” from Fassie interrupted his staring.

“Off wi’ ye, lad! Geezy’ll tan ye if ya don’ get tha’ tea out,” she scolded, and Nikolas moved on.

Closing the door, Fassie crossed the workshop, moving around the table built into the aft wall, and sat on the cot next to the woman. She simply held the mug in one hand, and with the other gently rubbed the woman’s back, feeling sweat soaking through the shirt. Corynn Highfall had been feeling nauseated since the Fortune left Lordaeron, but when the ship hit bigger waves farther out, she hadn’t gone half an hour without vomiting. Fassie looked up at Jovin, who was still rocking the child in his arms and softly soothing her. The two’s eyes met, and without a word conveyed love and appreciation for each other. The two hadn’t been able to have children of their own, and had developed a habit of hospitality particular to those with small children. When Corynn and the child had boarded, Fassie all but insisted they be housed in the workshop where Jovin worked as ship’s carpenter, his wife being his assistant.

When it seemed Corynn had finished her latest round of sickness, Fassie took the bucket and handed her the mug. “You sip on tha’, dear. It tastes like piss but it’ll help yer stomach.”

Corynn coughed as she laughed at Fassie’s bluntness. She smelled the steaming liquid in the mug and grimaced. “What’s in it?”

“Mostly ginger, but some stranglekelp and bruiseweed. I think Geezy puts in lemon fer tha taste.”

Corynn took a sip, and while the warm liquid was soothing she had to try hard not to gag over the taste. “Needs more lemon,” she said after swallowing. At least it soothed her throat, raw from the last few hours.

Fassie chuckled. “I’ll go get a clean one before tha next wave happens.” She got up to leave, but Jovin stopped her.

“Here, take tha wee one. I’ll get a new bucket.”

The two traded waht they were holding, careful not to drop either, and Jovin left the room. Fassie returned to the cot as Corynn kept sipping the tea.

“It’s helping already,” the woman said. “At least my stomach’s feeling quieter.”

“Aye, ‘tis a miracle tea, that. Geezy’s own concoction, an’ he always has a kettle ready ta go when we set sail.”

Corynn looked over at the child in Fassie’s arms, still crying, her face red. She’d tried to feed Jessa before, but nothing had stayed down. “Do you think the tea would help her?”

Fassie thought a moment. “Don’ see why not.” She held Jessa closer to Corynn, who dipped her fingers in the tea and gave a few drops to the baby, repeating this several times. Both dwarf and human sat in silence for a long while, each watching the child sympathetically. Sure enough, as time went on, Jessa’s cries got softer and softer, turning into whimpering before subsiding completely.

“Should we try feeding her again?” Corynn asked.

Fassie looked toward the workbench, where among various tools, wood and cloth scraps and sawdust sat a leather drinking skin. It contained milk that had once been warm, but was now likely room temperature at best. She handed Jessa to Corynn. “One moment, dear.”

She got up and peeked out of the workshop again. As luck would have it, Nikolas was just down the corridor. Fassie called him into the room and retrieved the drinking skin.

“Nikolas, I need more warm milk. Tell Geezy ta hurry up.”

Nikolas, who had been looking at Corynn and Jessa, took a moment to reply. “Uh, yes, of course. I’ll be right back.” He left quickly.

“Oi, that boy,” Fassie sighed as she once again sat on the cot. “He’s still learnin’ his footin’ ‘round here, but at least he’s willin’ ta learn.”

Corynn looked up at her while softly bouncing Jessa. “He’s much younger than some of the other crew I’ve seen.”

“Aye,” Fassie said, nodding. “Might not be too much older than yerself, but he’s a young one fer sure. Only been with us a year or so.”

“How long have you and your husband been aboard?”

Fassie had to think about that for a moment. “We’ve been at sea fer ‘bout seventy years now, I’d say. Only aboard the Fortune for tha last twenty or so.”

Corynn regarded the dwarf for a moment. “You’re Bronzebeard, right?”

Fassie looked impressed. “Ya know yer dwarves, lass! Aye, Jovi an’ me come from Ironforge. Well, we’re from a town near there, at least. Anvilmar - ya heard of it?”
Corynn shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much geography outside of Lordaeron.”

Fassie patted Corynn’s knee gently. “Lass, ‘tis a big world. Jovi an’ me sail ‘round the bloody thing an’ we barely know more than ye. Where’bouts are you from?”

For the next few minutes, Corynn told Fassie about her family and upbringing in southern Lordaeron, near Southshore. Fassie only interrupted once to say she had a second cousin - or maybe third - who was stationed at Dun Garok, a dwarven outpost on the shores of Baradin Bay southeast of Southshore. Corynn remarked she knew about Dun Garok but hadn’t been there. The human had just started talking about leaving home when Nikolas returned with the warmed milk. He handed Fassie the drinking skin with warm, and watched while Corynn retrieved a bottle from her baggage. As he did, he noticed two items wrapped in thick leather, their shapes unmistakably those of a shield and a sword.

“Are you a knight?” he blurted out to Corynn.

“I’m a paladin,” she replied, pouring the milk from the drinking skin into the bottle. She then frowned. “I was, anyway.”

Nikolas gave her a confused look.

“The order’s been disbanded,” she explained. “At least that’s the word from higher up. I heard it in Brill before boarding the boat.”

“Who disbanded it? Why?” These questions came from Fassie.

Corynn shook her head. “I haven’t heard much, but apparently Prince Arthas gave the order himself. Some kind of dispute with Uther Lightbringer.” She finished preparing the bottle, took Jessa from Fassie and started feeding her.

“Disbanded...” Nikolas said, trailing off into thought. Corynn noticed the look of concern on his face and was about to mention it when Fassie gently nudged him.

“Off ya go, lad, the miss is probably tired an’ the bairn needs feedin.’”

Nikolas snapped out of his reverie, nodded and left the workshop without a room. Jovin came back in a second later, a clean wooden bucket in his hands.

“Don’ think we’ll be needin’ tha’ anymore, dear,” Fassie said, and Jovin set it down in the corner. He then went to the workbench and started rummaging through a pile of boards next to it.

“What’re ya doin,’ love?” Fassie asked. Jovin didn’t answer; instead he retrieved his hammer and some nails and started working on something. Though he wasn’t tall, Jovin was broad, even for a dwarf, so neither his wife nor Corynn could see what he was doing. It was only a couple of minutes before he stepped back and held his arms out.

“There.”

Corynn, still seated and feeding Jessa, had to crane her neck a little, but she could see Jovin had cobbled together a wooden box, longer than it was wide and only about a foot deep.

“The bloody ‘ell is tha’?” Fassie asked.

Jovin gave her a look like he felt it should have been obvious. “It’s fer the bairn, o’ course! It’s a cradle!”

Fassie clucked her tongue, though Corynn saw a hint of a smile on the dwarf’s face. “I hope yer gonna nail them things down so she doesn’ roll off in the middle o’ the night!”

Jovin blinked, thinking for a moment, then got a hammer and nails and did exactly that. Corynn smiled as she watched the two argue, and felt a deep gratitude to the couple for taking her in, even if it was only for the journey.

Jessa finished the bottle, and Corynn burped her while Jovin arranged some pieces of cloth and leather in the cradle. When they were done, Corynn got up and gently set the baby into the box, tucking her in as best she could. She then watched Jessa as the little girl quickly drifted off to sleep. Corynn felt her own eyelids start to get heavy.

Fassie must have noticed, because she told Corynn it was time for bed. Corynn didn’t mind the motherly tone Fassie took at all.
“Back to the cot wi’ ye,” Fassie said.

Corynn shook her head. “No, that’s your bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Khaz’goroth’s beard, you’ll do no such thing!” Jovin said sternly, though again Corynn suspected it was more kindly than chiding. “The cot is yours for the trip, an’ we’ll hear no arguin’ about it. Tha’s ma final word.” He gave Corynn a wink.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you both so much. It’s...” Corynn paused, suddenly emotional. She sniffed, then continued.

“So much has happened and so fast - the Scourge, losing my friends, Jessa, leaving home - and you have been so kind. That means the world to me, and I won’t forget it.”

Fassie took Corynn in a firm hug, though her arms could only wrap around the human’s waist. “We don’ know much about what’s goin’ on outside this ship, but we know when we see a soul in need of some care, an’ tha’s you and the wee one. This workshop isn’ much, but it’s yer home while yer on board.”

Corynn wiped her eyes and looked to Jovin, who gave a nod, affirming what his wife had said. She and Fassie finished their hug, and Corynn lay down on the cot. As she situated herself under a thick and soft quilt, she watched Jovin blow out all but one lantern in the workshop while Fassie put together a nest of blankets in the far corner of the workshop. It was quiet enough for her to hear them each say “I love you” to the other before laying down next to each other.

Closing her eyes, Corynn started to drift off to sleep when Jovin’s voice broke the silence.

“If ya need to move ‘cause o’ Fassie’s snorin’ we won’ be offended.”

Corynn failed to suppress a laugh as she heard the unmistakable sound of Fassie’s hand smacking her husband’s head.

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