The Travels of Thelarwen

[Gergel]

The Ship.

Board. The voice in my head does not sound insistent, but it is nearly impossible to resist its order.

It would not have been my first choice. Or the second. Or any of the following choices. But the voice directs me to it. The vessel is old and battered, its crew have less than savory appearance. Most are humans, but I also see a few goblins, a troll, an orc. They glare at me while attempting to hide the glares. I ask for passage. I could pay but I will not. Instead I offer to work for the fare. The seamen laugh: my armor is not exactly the most appropriate attire for a sea voyage, and I am clearly no sailor. I step to where three men are trying to pull and tighten a sail, take the rope with one hand and wrench it into position. They reconsider their disposition.

They leave me alone. Perhaps they are afraid of me. I do the tasks set to me without comment, whether it is tightening the ropes, cleaning the latrine or standing watch in the dead of the night. I spend my free time fishing. These tiny deaths help soothe the compulsion that drives every death knight, the need to cause pain and death.

A storm hits. Almost too powerful to be natural. In the flashes of lightning I briefly glimpse the shapes of elementals, enormous beyond comprehension. I have never seen ones this vast. They could overshadow the towers of Stormwind.

The elementals do not care about us. They do not even notice us in their play or war. The ship is thrown from side to side. The ocean's surface rises and falls with the speed and deadliness of an avalanche. I grip a mast, the fingertips of my gauntlets digging into the wood. A giant wave washes over the deck, sailors cling to rigging and railing where they can.

Grasp. The whisper in my mind is sudden and impossible to resist.

The old troll male is torn loose, a massive gust of water carries him past me. I reach out, grab his wrist. I feel bones crack, he screams, I cannot hear him but I see his expression in another lightning flash. I do not let go.

A water elemental towers over us. It engulfs another in a battle? Or an act of lovemaking? Or a game? We are directly between them. For a brief moment, there is only water below, around and above us. The ship is filled with it. My armor is filled with it. The sailors' lungs are filled with it, as are mine. Death smiles upon us and holds out her hand to welcome those around me.

The elementals pull away and take the seawater with them. All of it. Fluids are torn from our throats, vast streams spiral upwards from hatches and cracks of the hull. My armor is bone-dry. The ship finds itself in mid-air, only to plummet down into the ocean which is suddenly a dozen meters below us. I let go of the old man who ignores his broken wrist and scurries to try to save the ship. I pull a rope, tighten another, the sailors work beside me. For once we are all as one.

Then we are out of the magical calm zone and the storm is upon us again. A normal storm, now. Gale winds, huge waves, nothing the crew has not seen before. They strap us down and we weather it out.

We sail in peace after that. The old man comes to me, hand in a sling, and mutters his thanks. They still avoid me. That is fine. But there is less hostility and wariness in their eyes. I seem to have more free time now, which I once again spend catching fish. The crew seems to appreciate this well enough, but they do not try to socialize.

We reach land and pull into a secluded cove. Other ships of similar seediness are there already, others move in or out of the cove. Crews carry cargo around - contraband, clearly. Do not make trouble and I will not be hurt, I am told. I make no trouble. I am left in peace and allowed passage to the shore.

This is where I have been heading, apparently.

Go.

"There is only desert behind this cove," the captain tells me when he sees me pick up my few belongings, "you'll die."

I am already dead. And I have been directed there. I thank the captain for the ride and walk off.

The troll comes to me as I am disembarking. He says nothing, but gives me an amulet made from fish bones. Spikes of long thin cartilage are woven together and fixed with resin-like glue into an intricate flat design that resembles the silhouette of a water elemental. He must have been working on it ever since the storm, I suspect. I accept the gift and head inland, leaving behind the ship, the smugglers and the storms.