“Bring her forth.”
The two attendants laid the body at Keliera’s feet, the muscular frame draped in a thin layer of cloth. The plate still looked battered in places, but Taleberaite had worked it into a bright enough shine that any damage was eclipsed. The attendants had worked neatly, and what was exposed of the girl’s pale face looked peaceful, the shrapnel injuries to her skull obscured by well-groomed hair.
She sighed. “I suppose we were lucky to escape the casualties of others. Still, to lose someone in our ranks only a few months… It bodes poorly. Place her in the back. I’ll secure her before we set sail.”
Muttering a final prayer to the Sunborne, the two attendants bowed and left, heading outside. Keliera was left alone with her thoughts and the young girl, covered by the sheet.
The last few weeks still could wake one up at night. The memories of the cannon-fire, the siege weaponry and the shrapnel – all the horrors of Garrosh’s last siege, doubled in power and tripled in size. In a way, the peace of death for Tomaa would be a relief from that.
Keliera said a prayer for the girl before leaving the room, heading up onto the top deck of the Sunchaser. Peons bustled around the makeshift harbour established at Surwich, some tending to the ship. Gulls whirled overhead, their whistles echoing in the early morning quiet. The sounds of the siege had floated away since the portal had been secured.
Soon, they would head back to Silvermoon, to lick their wounds and mull over what to do next. The Iron Horde meant change was coming. They would have to be ready.