Early the next morning, the streets were empty. Only a few merchants were preparing to set off. The workers didn't seem to be awake yet.
After asking several caravans, Jess returned to Gred with a helpless look. “Bad news. These merchants are either going to Goldshire and Stormwind or heading for Moonbrook. We may have to walk the rest of the way to Raven Hill ourselves.”
“Walk? Are you kidding?” Gred said unhappily. “You want to swim across the Nefriti River?”
“We can find a bridge,” Jess said.
“If we're walking, we still have to head south just to find a bridge?” Gred groaned miserably. “That's so much farther! We won't reach Raven Hill until the day after tomorrow. I regret coming with you. I want to go back to Stormwind!”
“Are you two heading to Raven Hill?”
A brand-new covered carriage stopped beside them. Jess glanced at the four horses in front. All were beautiful animals with fine coats. The freight wagons he'd ridden before had been pulled by old horses as skinny as wild donkeys.
The speaker was a man in his fifties wearing a gray robe. He held a long staff in his arms, with a beautiful gemstone set into the carved wooden head.
On his chest was the half-ring-and-cross symbol of the Holy Light. He was a priest of the Church.
“Yes, sir,” Jess said. “Could you give us a ride?”
“Of course,” the priest said. “You gentlemen can sit in the back. There's no room up here.”
Jess looked inside. A paladin wearing a blue shirt was squeezed in beside the priest. He leaned against a shield, holding a bundle containing chain mail, which he placed on the floor. The two priests sitting opposite had to draw in their feet to make room for it. The priests were also holding stacks of books, and all sorts of large chests were tied to the roof. The carriage was carrying quite a load.
A male priest was already sitting in one of the rear seats. Several travelers like Jess and Gred sat beside him, leaving space for only a few more people.
“Praise the Light!” Gred climbed onto the carriage excitedly. A young priest opposite smiled as the dwarf dropped into his seat, looking as though the teachings of the Holy Light had just found a perfect new follower.
“May I ask what the fare is?” Jess asked after sitting down.
“We don't charge,” the young priest said. “We're heading to Grand Hamlet anyway, and Raven Hill is on the way.”
“I love the Holy Light,” Gred declared. “Loved it back in Aerie Peak too.”
“And the Light loves everyone who carries hope in their heart, as you do,” the young priest said with a smile.
Jess had never had any particular feelings about the Holy Light. As a child, he'd tried praying to it out of curiosity. The Light really existed in this world, after all. There was no point clinging stubbornly to his old atheism and arguing with the rules of a fantasy world.
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As expected, the Light had never answered him.
It hadn't healed him when he was injured, hadn't soothed his heart when he was sad, and hadn't stopped the terrible diarrhea that nearly killed him after he ate roasted river crabs.
Yet he'd seen priests call on the Light to heal other people's illnesses. Maybe the Light simply didn't favor an outsider like him.
“What are you going to Grand Hamlet for?” Jess asked curiously.
“To treat the sick,” the priest said. “Haven't you heard? Plague and necromantic corruption are spreading through southern Elwynn. Many people in Grand Hamlet are ill, and there aren't nearly enough healers there. Archbishop Alonsus Faol has sent us to help our brothers in the Church.”
Jess looked up at the chests tied to the carriage roof. “So those are all medicines?”
“Some are,” the priest answered. “Others contain food, medical books, and things like that. If you want, I can give you two a little when we stop at Raven Hill.”
“Uh, thank you very much,” Jess said. “But I think the people in Grand Hamlet need the help more than we do.”
The priest smiled. “You're young and look eager to work. Would you be interested in helping out at the Cathedral of Light in Stormwind?”
Jess had considered joining the clergy before. But as he'd just been thinking, he and the Holy Light didn't seem to get along. So he'd never bothered approaching the Church.
This was the longest conversation he'd ever had with a member of the Church of the Holy Light. The man's kindness and friendliness even made him a little uncomfortable. Jess usually grew wary around people who seemed eager to spread their religion, but he was starting to relax.
He knew, of course, that this was mostly because they were giving him a ride to Raven Hill.
Still, in a dangerous place like Azeroth, wasn't this exactly the kind of help ordinary people struggling through hardship needed?
Perhaps that was why, no matter how many disasters came later, the Holy Light would remain the most widespread and deeply rooted faith in these lands.
“I'll think about it,” Jess said.
“Wonderful. Even knowing you'll consider it is an honor,” the priest replied.
“I'd like a little something,” Gred said. “I know the cathedral has that especially tasty fruit. You wouldn't happen to have any, would you?”
“That's called a Sunfruit.” The priest took a small cloth bag from behind him and pulled out a bright-yellow fruit that looked like an orange. “Is this what you mean?”
Gred took one and immediately bit into it, golden juice running all over his lips.
“Yes! That's the taste. So sweet!”
Watching Gred enjoy it so much, Jess licked his lips. The priest was already holding another fruit out to him. “Want to try one?”
Jess took it and bit gently. It was a little sour and felt like a plum in his mouth, but more fragrant and less sweet.
Considering that this world probably didn't have twenty-first-century fruit breeding techniques, it was impressive that they could grow something so tasty. It was countless times better than the misshapen fruit he'd eaten in Lordaeron.
The priest told many stories of the Church fighting the orc invasion in Redridge and the Hillsbrad Foothills, along with the heroic deeds of the recently founded Order of the Silver Hand. Some were stories Jess had never heard.
To his surprise, the priest even mentioned Tirion Fordring, one of the leaders of the Silver Hand, a famous figure in World of Warcraft who would later become one of the Alliance's leading figures.
They listened to stories and exchanged what they knew of the years of war with the orcs. Gred talked and waved his arms all the way, until even the travelers who'd been quiet at first joined in.
Time passed quickly. Just after noon, once everyone had eaten the food they'd brought, the carriage reached the bridge over the Nefriti River.
After crossing, they traveled along the riverbank, slowly approaching Duskwood. Gred kept watching the direction of travel, eager to find out exactly when the sky would begin growing dark. The priest and several travelers were taking afternoon naps.
Jess kept watching the broad surface of the Nefriti River. It was the longest river on the continent, running from the mountains around Karazhan through all of Elwynn and down to the sea at the southern tip of Stranglethorn Vale.
The midday sun sparkled on the water, making a magnificent sight.
As he watched, Jess suddenly noticed something pale floating among the water plants not far away.
He tapped Gred and pointed. “What's that?”