He rested a hand on the small plaque in the earth in Stormwind’s cemetery, the only sign that they had ever been here at all - their remains cremated and scattered to the winds, as they had wished… as his own would be, if fate was kind.
Dedicated to the memory of
SIR ERAN HESKIN
Devoted protector of Stormwind and the Grand Alliance
Together in eternity with
KATERINA HESKIN
His beloved wife and inseparable partner for more than fifty years
“Our love has no goodbyes, touch my face and remember me”
“Donal. Or should I say, Inquisitor Heskin?”
Donal Heskin looked up, a tired smile on his face. “Lorewalker Ketiron. It’s good to see you.”
“And you, my friend. And just Ord’taeril now, I think. We’ve both come a long way.” The void elf Lorewalker looked him over, seeing the tabard, with the sword piercing the tome - the emblem of the Order of Embers, Kul Tiras’ witch hunters. “I see you’ve been working with Gabriel.”
Donal nodded. “Inquisitor Underwood taught me a lot, aye. Thanks for talking to him for me. I would have, but…”
“Worry not, my friend. How is the leg, by the way?”
The newly-minted inquisitor winced as he came to his feet. “Glad to still have it, but it hurts like mad.” He glanced back at the plaque in the grass. “I wanted to make sure people knew, even if they aren’t actually here.”
Ord’taeril read the plaque himself… and then nodded. “Runs the chance of being overgrown, but being that it’s in the middle of Stormwind proper, part of me doubts that. Enough detail without being too flashy.” His eyebrows rose. “The epitaph is an interesting touch.”
“Song I heard in Valdrakken, funny enough. Apparently it’s something the ‘darker’ folks like. The Forsaken and the Darkfallen, particularly. I liked the sound of it.” Donal looked at him curiously. “You think I’ve gone mad with hate, don’t you?”
Ord’taeril blinked, wrong-footed by the sudden question. “What do you mean?”
“It’s the way you and the captain have looked at me since I decided to take up the Embers’ witch-hunting technique. You’re all thinking I’m probably another mad zealot about to go off on a crusade, and not care who was friend or foe - all are evil in my sight.”
The thought had indeed occurred to him. “Are you?”
“If there is one thing I have learned from my grandda, it’s that the best fights - those that can’t be avoided - are those with friends at your side. I’m still part of the Pearl Queen’s crew, and I will fight with them. The captain has my loyalty, just as you do.”
“I’m very glad to hear that.” Both turned, seeing Elizabeth Pellerin standing nearby. Next to her was a very youthful-looking - and equally vengeful-looking - night elf, dressed in the regalia of the Wardens. “Which is why I’m asking if you’re ready for a voyage, Inquisitor Heskin.”
Donal bowed his head. “I am at your command, Captain. Where are we heading?”
“Word has come from the Lord Admiral - she and the orc chieftain, Thrall, have been to this new land, this ‘Isle of Dorn’ off the west coast of Pandaria. A combined fleet is on its way there. We will head that way soon ourselves, but we’ll be taking a bit of a detour first.”
“Where to?”
“Freehold. I’ve had a tip come in… Savona is taking ship onboard the Seaking, a Zandalari privateer that’s been based out of there since the war. Zulimbasha sent his messenger Soji to find Warden Ravensong here, after… what happened in Pandaria. She and I both agree: there will be no Vault of the Wardens for her this time.”
Donal’s hands clenched into fists at the idea of taking down this lunatic, especially given her part in his grandfather’s murder. But a nagging question lingered. “Can we trust the source? It could be a trap.”
“Believe it or not, I thought the same thing,” Elizabeth replied with an amused look in her eyes. “But risk is part of the game here, Donal. We have to show them we’re not afraid of them, and that we can take from them as readily as they can from us.” She approached and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you prepared for this?”
Donal looked her square in the eye. “As I said, Captain, I am at your command.”