Disclaimer: World of Warcraft is copyright Blizzard Entertainment 2005. In fact, so is anything else that doesn’t look like it was invented by me. Gelles is my level 60 Paladin on Thorium Brotherhood. Gelki/Mnemosyne is my mage and Aoni is my other paladin. Please don’t sue me.

This story is rated R for swearing, violence and sexual references

Stand Alone

A World of Warcraft fanfic

By Kristin Renee Taylor

Part Five - Missing Hearts

The fingers of Gelles' left hand twitched once, twice, then curled into a fist, digging loosely into the mud beneath her body. A low groan left the paladin as she pushed herself upright and looked around dazedly.

What in blazing hells had happened?

In keeping with her adopted role of a wandering swordsman, she had left most of her armor back in Stormwind, opting for a more conservative appearance. Plain clothes, plain sword, plain horse. Nobody would ever mistake her for a paladin. No one would pay her any mind. Unremarkable, that was her aim. 'I'm poor. Not worth your time,' was the goal of her look.

Which it made it worse when she realized that the urchin had robbed her. Her horse and sword were gone. She was stranded in the middle of the highlands, dressed like a vagrant, with no means of supporting herself.

And, right on cue, it begin to rain. Hard.

Sighing, Gelles turned to scan the horizon for a copse or cave; something to take shelter in until the storm passed. Before the rain obscured her vision completely, she spotted a darkness in the distance. Perhaps a house, perhaps nothing. She really had no other options. Tugging the collar of her cloak up, she set out across the muddy ground.

Long weary minutes of trudging later found her at the skeletal remains of a farmhouse. Charred blackened timbers poked up into the sky. The roof was gone, burned away ages ago. She turned away from the husk in disappointment, readying herself to head back into the full force of the storm.

A smattering of childish laughter made her stop and turn, fully alert now. "Who's there?"

More laughter answered her. A dark shape at the other end of the ruined house detached itself from the shadows of the house and ran away from her, out into the rain.

"Wait!" Gelles chased after, struggling to keep her footing on the wet ashes and collected debris. Outside now, she sprinted headlong into the fallow fields at what would have been the rear of the house. She skidded on a patch of mud, lost her balance, and fell into summer.

Sunlight streamed along the length of her back, warming the clothes and hair plastered to her skin. The dirt beneath her was dry and dark, freshly tilled.

Gelles scrambled to her feet. Eyes wide, she looked around.

Neat, perfectly ordered rows of tomatoes plants on stakes stretched for nearly a mile in every direction. People in peasant garb moved along the crops, tending to the fruit. Nobody seemed to notice the strange and dirty woman in their midst.

The childish laughter caught her ears again. Several rows over, a large and weathered man scooped up a child no older than three and, with a whoop, tossed her into the air. She squealed happily as she dropped safely into the man's arms. He grinned, white teeth startling in the midst of a dark brown beard. He set to tickling the child, eliciting even more delighted squeals of laughter.

"Survivors?"

"A few of the women, sir. No others."

"...were they...?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see. You know the drill: dump the bodies in the house and raze the place to the ground. Leave nothing for the orcs to use."

"And the women?"

"I'm not desperate enough to follow after orcs, corporal. Stick them in the house with the others. They're probably diseased, anyway."

"Sir."

The field burst into flames.

"NO!" She screamed. The scar on her chest, where Enrik had stabbed and killed her a lifetime ago, ignited into white hot agony. She fell to her knees.

"Remember this."

She wasn't startled at the woman's voice, or at the sound as the horse came to a stop next to her; she knew this memory now.

The horse snorted and stamped a hoof. A red-headed woman, her hair pulled back into a bun as severe as her angular face, sat in the charger's saddle, an expression of cold fury on her face. Before her, almost hidden in the older woman's cloak, a sallow-eyed girl of five stared at the flames, empty eyes unblinking.

The paladin addressed the girl in her arms. "Remember this moment, Gelles. Look well upon what mankind has done. Commit this atrocity to your soul. And when you lie awake in your bed, wondering what your life is for, bring this moment to mind and remember your calling: a paladin, called to bring Light to an otherwise dark and depressing world.

"Remember this night, and remember compassion. Protect your heart, or else you will lose it to despair. That is your first lesson as a paladin." The woman, the horse, even the field vanished into a gray haze, evaporating like mist.

Something sharp jabbed Gelles in the shoulder.

She opened her eyes.

The urchin was squinting down at her, readying to poke her with a stick again. "Lady?"

Groaning, Gelles sat up and looked around. "How long was I unconscious?"

The kid shrugged. "I dunno. Then minutheth?"

She levered herself to her feet, wincing as her head throbbed. "Then there's still enough daylight left."

The urchin backed away, looking confused. "Mith?"

She smiled at him. "Wanna see where I was born?"

---

Mnemosyne winced as the spell snapped and rebounded, setting off massive headache. Grunting, she severed the connection to Gelles, before rubbing her temples and setting off for the bathroom.

She didn't know what had happened, but she'd give it another try in a few hours.

End – Missing Hearts