"Papa...is Mother going to get better?"
It was a simple enough question, that should have elicited a simple answer, but the older man remained silent as he looked into the bedroom.
Her mother lay in that room, filling the house with the echoes of her racking cough. Over the past week, she had lost almost all of her coloring, and no amount of blankets or heat seemed to take away her chills. It was just a week ago that her mother had been fine, yet now, she did not have the energy to even move in her bed. Whatever it was, her mother was not the only one suffering, as others too had begun to show similar symptoms. However, her mother was the most progressed it seemed.
“I… I could go fetch the Priest again… Maybe he’s been able to find something…”
Her father gave her a pained look, and she stopped speaking. She had forgotten that he had been away most of the past month. As a soldier in the Lordaeron army, he was often conscripted to aid the Silver Hand and the Prince whenever they needed. He had just arrived back home two nights ago, and he had barely spoken a word since he saw his wife’s condition. It was as if something inside him had died.
Her mother began screaming again as a fresh round of wretched coughing began. This was the coughing that often brought large clots of blood out of her mother’s lungs. Kallindra quickly hurried to the water pitcher that sat on the eating table, but the remains of the pitcher barely cover the bottom of the wooden cup. Why hadn’t her father told her that they needed more water? He had been the last to touch the pitcher. However, now was not the time to worry about that, as her mother needed the water.
Without a word to her father, she quickly left the house with the pitcher, moving with a rushed pace, towards the well at the center of town. The Light praised her as there was not a soul at the well, so she was able to quickly fetch a bucket of water from its depths. Her shaking arms managed to cause her to spill a majority of the water on the stones beneath her feet, but she did fill the pitcher with enough water to help her mother through this latest fit.
As she turned to hurry back to her home, she was met with an armored soldier. “What are you doing out here?” The tone was rather commanding and sharp, but his helmet hid his visage.
“I… I was fetching some water… for my mot-”
A gauntleted hand motioned for her to stop. “Return to your home now. Prince Arthas is preparing to visit, and he has commanded that all citizens of Stratholme are to remain sequestered in their homes until further notice. Make haste and do as your Prince commands.”
She meekly nodded and hurried back to her house. This was most blessed news. The Light had not forsaken them, and the Prince himself was here to help with the recovery of his citizens. She rushed through the front door of her home, not noticing the suddenly eerie silence that had overcome the house.
“Papa! Papa! The Prince is coming. He’s going to help. He’s going to make it all better…”
He quickly came from the bedroom, his face wrought with grief, tears, and an emotion she had no idea how to describe. She took a step away from him in instinct, never having seen her father look like this before. He quickly strode over to her and yanked the water pitcher from her hands.
“You must leave.”
Leave? “But the soldier told me that we are to stay in our homes. And mother…”
The water pitcher shattered at her feet as her father spiked it to the ground. She let out a slight squeal of terror and quickly backed herself up against a wall. Her father glowered at her with a dark look in his eyes. “You cannot help your Mother. Take your cloak. Take my horse and leave this damned place.”
“But…”
She screamed in pain as her father grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the bedroom where he mother laid. Tears were already flowing from her eyes as he forced her into the room, holding her head in such a way that she could see the body of her mother.
“Look at her.” His voice was quiet and yet terrifying to her at the moment. He yanked on her hair, pulling her head back. “Look at her.”
She could no longer call the body on the bed her mother. It was quite apparent all life had left the body from the gaping wound that covered her mother’s chest now. A wound that she was certain was made by a sword. She tried to swallow the sobbing noise that was developing in her throat, but she was failing horribly.
“This is what awaits you… if you stay here.”
He took and tossed her back into the hall, finally releasing the iron grip he had on her hair. She laid there for a few moments, in shock, sobbing over what was happening. What had possessed her father so to commit such an act on his helpless wife? As she lay there for a few moments, trying desperately to compose herself, a warm cloak was laid across her back.
Her father’s firm, but noticeably less forceful grip lifted her to her feet and began to usher her to the back door of their house. “Take my horse. Leave. I cannot let you stay here.” He pushed her out the door and towards the horse that stood tethered back there. “Stay clear of Andorhal. Head to the capital for refuge. Take the shortcuts I showed you, but leave this doomed place.”
She looked at her father as he stood in the door, a bloody blade in his offhand. He looked at her with such a sorrowful expression, and she began to sob even more. Before she could even say anything or reach out for him, the backdoor shut in front of him, and she heard the click of the door being locked. He meant for her to go and to go alone.
She wiped futilely at her cheeks with the back of her hand, as she moved towards the horse. She did not know what possessed her father, but she did not want to stay should he decide that she too must follow her mother. She untied her father’s horse and mounted up. She never once looked back as she took the shortcut she knew towards the magic school of Scholomance.