[Shujaa] - Protecting the Empire
The spirits’ call I have never been able to hear. I see others speak to them, I see others call forth their power to work destruction, or mend wounds. This young one has used their blessing to seek me out. The goblin town should be safe to meet him; they keep the peace so that people will bring gold to them, to trade.
“You are Shujaa, of the Gurubashi?” he asks. The huntress’ brother, I remember him now, but name I never learned.
I nod in reply. He waits a moment, as if thinking I will speak.
“You have heard of the rebuilding of Zul’Gurub?” he asks again. Does he think me blind, or deaf?
“We go there,” I say.
The young one nods in reply, a smile on his face. The Daughter of the Sands and I wait for the ship to carry us there, the children of Gahz’rilla gathered around us. Their heads move and watch, alert for danger. Their bodies stay close to Asali and I, we who have become their father and their mother.
“There will be much danger, rumors of war fly like mosquitos after a rain.” He brushes a hand across his robe as he speaks. He has many charms adorning it; they make music as they dance and sway across the cloth.
I frown as I hear his words. I remember the many who suffered when the Zandalari betrayed us, leading the lesser races into our home, showing them our weaknesses. Now we have accepted their aid, to rebuild? Many such questions that I will find answers to.
“The might of the Empire grows. Some wish to stop it,” I reply.
He nods, smiling at me. “Many shall suffer and die, because of it,” he says. His smile does not conceal his fear. Is it for himself? Or another? I do not know, and cannot answer. “I seek you out on behalf of one of those who might do so, one of my tribe, who is also of yours.”
“You tell me much I know. Tell me what you want, that is something I do not know,” I say. I bare my teeth at him, eager for him to be gone.
“A woman of your tribe, Te’kuja, has rejoined her people,” he says, his smile wilting. “She bears the mark, as I do.” He taps a brand on his shoulder, a skull within a circle. “I would ask you to guard her, as one of your sisters, and as one of mine.”
My grin grows wider. I know what he wants. “You think her life more worth than any of the Empire’s children?” I ask. “I go to see the Daughter of the Sands’ duty fulfilled.” I reach down, caressing one of the children’s scales.
He moves a hand, reaching to hold one of the charms he has decorated his robe with. “Then for the Empire’s good, would you watch over her?” he asks.
Silence I let lay between us. He wishes to play games, I will not play. My smile fades, before it becomes a snarl.
“I offer a safe place for your people,” he says. “Your people are not all warriors; those who would be trampled underfoot with as much ease as a beetle will need shelter. Our tribe will offer this, shelter for those whose place it is to be protected by those who kill.” He waves a hand, gesturing at me, and Asali.
I look to her, the Daughter of the Sands. She tilts her head, and then shrugs. I know the meaning. What I do, she will not judge. He waits patiently as I think. It is a small blessing. The Zandalari I know will see us as no more than bodies to sacrifice, not to build the empire with but to weaken our enemies. They want all weak, so their own power may be supreme.
I grin, my decision made. These priests would see us weakened. I cannot stop them, but I can strengthen the Empire. “Done.”
“You are Shujaa, of the Gurubashi?” he asks. The huntress’ brother, I remember him now, but name I never learned.
I nod in reply. He waits a moment, as if thinking I will speak.
“You have heard of the rebuilding of Zul’Gurub?” he asks again. Does he think me blind, or deaf?
“We go there,” I say.
The young one nods in reply, a smile on his face. The Daughter of the Sands and I wait for the ship to carry us there, the children of Gahz’rilla gathered around us. Their heads move and watch, alert for danger. Their bodies stay close to Asali and I, we who have become their father and their mother.
“There will be much danger, rumors of war fly like mosquitos after a rain.” He brushes a hand across his robe as he speaks. He has many charms adorning it; they make music as they dance and sway across the cloth.
I frown as I hear his words. I remember the many who suffered when the Zandalari betrayed us, leading the lesser races into our home, showing them our weaknesses. Now we have accepted their aid, to rebuild? Many such questions that I will find answers to.
“The might of the Empire grows. Some wish to stop it,” I reply.
He nods, smiling at me. “Many shall suffer and die, because of it,” he says. His smile does not conceal his fear. Is it for himself? Or another? I do not know, and cannot answer. “I seek you out on behalf of one of those who might do so, one of my tribe, who is also of yours.”
“You tell me much I know. Tell me what you want, that is something I do not know,” I say. I bare my teeth at him, eager for him to be gone.
“A woman of your tribe, Te’kuja, has rejoined her people,” he says, his smile wilting. “She bears the mark, as I do.” He taps a brand on his shoulder, a skull within a circle. “I would ask you to guard her, as one of your sisters, and as one of mine.”
My grin grows wider. I know what he wants. “You think her life more worth than any of the Empire’s children?” I ask. “I go to see the Daughter of the Sands’ duty fulfilled.” I reach down, caressing one of the children’s scales.
He moves a hand, reaching to hold one of the charms he has decorated his robe with. “Then for the Empire’s good, would you watch over her?” he asks.
Silence I let lay between us. He wishes to play games, I will not play. My smile fades, before it becomes a snarl.
“I offer a safe place for your people,” he says. “Your people are not all warriors; those who would be trampled underfoot with as much ease as a beetle will need shelter. Our tribe will offer this, shelter for those whose place it is to be protected by those who kill.” He waves a hand, gesturing at me, and Asali.
I look to her, the Daughter of the Sands. She tilts her head, and then shrugs. I know the meaning. What I do, she will not judge. He waits patiently as I think. It is a small blessing. The Zandalari I know will see us as no more than bodies to sacrifice, not to build the empire with but to weaken our enemies. They want all weak, so their own power may be supreme.
I grin, my decision made. These priests would see us weakened. I cannot stop them, but I can strengthen the Empire. “Done.”