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The Price of Gratitude	By : Mayamahal Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6057 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard or World of Warcraft. I make no profit or money for writing this.

Chapter List
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A fetid hand clamped over Maia's mouth before she could expell her vocal alarm, her eyes going wide in horror, unable to take her eyes from her attacker's face.

"Yo' Troll-boy will be a mite displeased dat his little toy be spoiled." He cackled. "He rather kill ya," he licked his lips, grinning, "than take ya back."

He ran a hand through her hair, and she jerked her head back, digging her teeth into his palm. He bared his teeth in pain, but did not let go. "Don' worry, little brown-skin; I know what ya be worth," he muttered, and leaned very, very close to her. She flinched. "An' I won' eva let ya go."

Panic overwhelmed her, the fear making it impossible to access her magic, her body lost in its adrenaline-fueled thrashing. The Troll simply laughed, rubbing himself against her, his free hand pawing at her dress.

She snapped her eyes shut, not out of denial or mental anguish, but out of the intense need to focus. She tried to ignore what he was doing (or might do), she tried to rein in her thoughts, to bring her mind to bear on the situation as one more problem to solve.

As her will began to calm, she began to relax, to let herself breathe through the fear, to let go just a little...

I am not weak, she thought fiercely, and opened her eyes.

Just as she did, the Troll went still, his head lifting, and turned his gaze to face the entrance of the tunnel that led to the hidden market. There was a sound, and now she heard it to.

She didn't have time to look; there was a flurry of movement, and her assailant was tackled, wrenched from her. Sturdy and strong, she didn't quite topple over, but she did lose her balance. In the activity and yelling that followed, she fell into the frigid cistern water.

Confused, floundering to the surface, she gripped a plank splitting from the wooden walkway, coughing up water as she tried to understand what she was seeing. There was a fight, a pair of Trolls wrestling in the center of the market. The wooden panels were rocking from the movement and bouncing, jarring Maia's hold, making it harder for her to hang on. Her wool dress weighed down on her, but she was determined to stay above water.

There was yelling, a war cry that sounded almost like a hoarse scream, and the near-wet sound of fist hitting flesh. Maia passed a hand over her eyes, clearing wet hair from her vision, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Her would-be rapist, the clammy skinned, dark-haired Troll, was getting pounded in the face by a much larger, stronger, dusky-blue skinned creature with platinum hair that crested like a wave above his head, a mohawk speckled with matte glass beads and long twisted braids-

Maia gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Koda-!

It was hard to recognize him as the Troll she knew. His face was contorted into a mask of fury, his handsome features twisted into a feral expression that was almost sinister, his teeth bared, his eyes...

Those gray, beautiful eyes that she had last seen sparkle silver with mischief and lust...

They were red, a glowing red, the color of blood afire, blazing anger and incalculable rage as he punched, hit, gouged, and tried to strangled the other.

Frozen with fascinated horror, Maia watched as Koda screamed, and she felt almost sorry for the disgusting wretch of bruised flesh that was left of her attacker. The other Troll flinched, and she could see that he knew, he just knew that he was going to pay for assuming too much, for his callous arrogance. She knew his fate, she saw the decision made in the wild mind that was left in Koda, the flicker of determination that sealed his will to the punishment honor demanded.

Maia choked on the cry that was supposed to be a warning, but it never came out. She saw Koda's mouth close, his lips a thin line as his brow furrowed a touch in concentration.

With a ripple of muscle that went from forearms to shoulders, Koda wrenched the Troll's arms at the torso, splattering blood across the walls, the tents, the wares, the walkways, and the churning water beneath it all.

Before the corpse had stopped twitching, Koda had strode over to her, put his hands under her arms and lifted her like a child from the water. He did not set her down; his arms came around her and he held her against him, breathing hard. She could feel his quick, angry breathing, smell the blood on his body, sense his mouth, open, pressing teeth unconsciously (hard-!) into her shoulder. And still, he shook with rage, every breath carrying with it the echo of a snarl.

Maia was at a loss, confused, not knowing what to do next. Comfort or pull away? Confront him?

Only if I want to die, she thought weakly.

Of a sudden, a familiar shadow materialized out of the tunnel. Her Forsaken customer.

"Nikolas!" she gasped, leaning back in Koda's embrace.

"Kirin Tor!" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Maia heard shouts and the distant splash of footsteps coming down the ramp. He gripped her elbow to catch her attention, only to instantly release her as Koda gave him a sharp, warning growl.

"Oh gods," she gasped, pushing away and dropping to her feet. Eyes still glowing, slightly unfocused, Koda turned his head to follow her movements, his gaze never leaving her. Biting her lip, she took everything in quickly, the blood, the body, and her savior... and realized that it looked less like he had rescued her (why would a Troll do that for a human woman?) and more like she twarted an ambush and killed one attacker.

Her mind ground into action, determined to fix this, and she resolved herself to the course.

She muttered a series of words, glowing fingers tracing a circle in the air as she focused on the space behind her Troll. The portal materialized quickly, quicker than it should have. Maia felt her knees buckle as power poured from her, exchanging mana for speed.

Quicker than thought but knowing she was still on borrowed time, she yanked the knife from the Forsaken's sheath at his hip and savagely cut a lock of her hair, taking a small jeweled hairpin with it. Jet and crystal sparkled amidst a mahogany tress as she wrapped Koda's clenching fist around them, pushing him to walk backward towards the glimmering doorway in space and time.

Nikolas took back his blade, glanced over his shoulder, and motioned for Maia to hurry, before turning around and melting back into the shadows.

She stared into Koda's face, wondering what to say, seeing at last that sense was beginning to return to the Troll, the red in his eyes fading to reveal those gray eyes that-

She couldn't finish the thought.

She bit her lip again, hands pressing against his chest. "I'm sorry...!" she whispered, and shoved him.

She had a glimpse of him staggering backwards, eyes wide with knowing what she'd done, and then she sliced her hand through the air, severing the connection, trading more mana for a swift unsummons.

But it was too late. A pair of battle-mages blinked into existence a split second before the last glow of the portal-spell had faded, Koda's stunned face visible, glowing as it hung in the damp air a moment too long.

One of them, the ranking officer by the pattern on his collar, took in the twitching body with its dismembered arms, the spattered blood, the soaked woman in the red dress, and the frothy, churning cistern waters.

He inhaled slowly, straightening to his full height.

"What," he began carefully, "in the name of Medivh's twisted left testicle is going on here?"

Maia opened her mouth to explain, but her mana-starved body took over from there, robbing her of every last bit of control she had left. Or thought she had left.

Of a sudden, the world began to tilt and darken, and she was unconscious before she hit the water for a second time.

And this is how things get complicated.

Maia wondered for about the tenth time that night why she'd ever saved that stupid bird. She massaged her temples, elbows propped up on the desk she sat at, willing the voice aimed at her to not be so damned shrill.

Arin Zarred, her Guildleader, was intensely displeased, and Maia didn't blame him. Not only was his prized jewelcrafter being accused of treason and aiding the enemy of the Alliance, it was bringing his beloved guild negative attention and forcing him into a position of real authority that he was not prepared for.

Maia tried to still her rude thoughts, but being mana-dry was a little like being drunk; it was hard to find room for a mental filter.

Arin was pacing back and forth in front of her, livid.

"-and to make matters worse, you claim that you blacked out and have no idea who the other Troll was and what they were doing there, which is a lie given that you obviously helped him-"

And on it went.

The Kirin Tor were more upset that a body had so dramatically turned up in the Underbelly, instead of getting washed down the drain like it usually would have. Embarassed by this, there was already talk of increasing security in the lower levels, and there was a small number of private, less-than-legal 'organizations' that were cursing the existence of the entire fiasco.

In the end, it came down to numbers. Arin wouldn't dare throw her out of the guild, not just because she was probably the most efficient and valuable craftswoman he had, but for a few other more complicated reasons as well. Maia did not point this out, but she was very tempted to tell Arin to take all of this nonsense and shove it up his tightly puckered rear end.

There I go again, she thought, and she tried to rein in her wayward thoughts once more.

"-and you had better keep your nose clean, Maia, unless you want to get put on probation. That, I think, would seriously dry up your income." He looked smug, almost satisfied by that little bit. She was not going to enlighten him as to where almost half of her profits came from; it might break his little heart to learn she was ferreting out her goods through the goblins.

Not that she cared how he felt about it, but...

But money is money, and money lets me have the isolation I need without starving to death or dealing with this stupid war.

So, like a good girl, she nodded and gave him her best embarrassed expression, and promised that she would mind herself and not get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time again, if she could ever help it.

The officials of the city were satisfied with this, and she was released from their custody. Arin had made more of a fuss with it than they did; the Troll that had died, apparently, had been from the Atal'ai, a tribe of Trolls that were insane in their devotion to their beliefs, zealots of a caliber unfathomable to even the most maniacal of believers. They lived in drowning temples and fed from rotting corpses and answered to creatures that were best never seen or thought of, and they seemed to be determined to bring about the end of the world.

This particular seeker, Maia's attacker, had been in the Underbelly without the knowledge of ... anyone. How he had snuck in bothered the Kirin Tor far more than his untimely death, and honestly, they weren't that unhappy that he'd been 'taken care of' but someone not native to the city, as far as anyone could tell.

But rules were rules, and while most of the Trolls in the city were both indifferent and pleased that someone had killed the nasty, a few of the more up-tight commanders of the Horde were getting their mail knickers in an uncomfortable wad over the callous attitude with which the Alliance was brushing off the incident.

Maia caught a few Horde officers eyeballing her with obvious disgust, and it was only with careful steps and planning ahead that she managed to stay away from them without falling into an unwelcome interview or casual interoggation. She had barely managed to keep Koda's presence out of all this, and she was determined to keep it that way. It wasn't his fault that any of this had happened, and he probably would have stepped up to defend her even if he hadn't known who she was, but she suspected that their... history ... had made his defense of her that much more violent.

Her fingers strayed to the platinum-haired bracelet around her wrist, rubbing at the beads. The Atal'ai had said it was a mark of ownership, or somesuch. Was that why Koda had reacted as he did? Because he looked at her as his property? She tried not to think along that vein too far; it might either piss her off or make her do something foolish. Or both.

Even with all that, though...

She left the bracelet on, and tried to finish her business in Dalaran as quickly as humanly possible.

Thankfully, Nikolas had rescued her satchel; it had been waiting at the foot of her bed at the inn, sitting in a puddle of water. A quick inventory reassured her that everything was there and in fine condition, if a little damp.

She was able to pass out the last of her work and get paid that very next day, and she was packed before noon. As she shouldered her gear and got ready to leave, there was a throat cleared on her balcony.

Again, it was Nikolas. He was perched on the edge of the rail, peering into her room with an urgent expression. She let him in, worried, and asked what was wrong.

"Is it the bracelet?" she fretted. "Did something happen to it?"

He gave her a funny look and shook his head. "You get attacked in the sewers of Dalaran and lie to your own leader for the sake of a member of my faction, and you're worried about a damn commission falling apart?"

She flushed. "Yes, well..." What could she say to that? "I'm ... odd."

He patted her shoulder. "No no, it's just... well, it about the Troll that attacked you."

Maia blinked. "What about him? Is there more of a problem with him that I don't know about? Did he owe someone money? Have a powerful relative?" she asked, exasperation making her a little sarcastic.

He frowned, serious."Maia, this is very serious. His body is missing."

She blinked at him. He continued.

"Traditionally, you set Troll corpses on fire or bathe them in acid, otherwise, they just regenerate and get back up again-"

About five minutes later, she was on the landing and Sun-Iron was getting rigged for the flight. After another five minutes, Maia was in the air. She could not put the city behind her fast enough.

I think I'll just send things by mail from now on, she thought grimly, eyes on the horizon. Being a hermit is something that requires complete dedication. Like pacifism. Her mouth twitched.

Or cannibalism.
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The Price of Gratitude