Reunion

Part III

Calsh was becoming more and more pessimistic after several hours had passed. His search had thus far been fruitless, and while he still had a significant portion of the city to search through, the small sliver of hope that his kin were among the survivors was beginning to fade.

The search had proven rather taxing, even for one who'd been to Ironforge enough times to have a general sense of the layout of the city. His familiarity with its arrangement was not enough to overcome the enormity of the dwarven capital, and he was giving descriptions of gnomes that he hadn't seen in nearly a year to total strangers in hopes that somebody might have seen where they went. Although most of the dwarven citizens had seemed helpful enough on the surface, he couldn't help but get the impression that a number of them were wondering how long the gnomes would have to stay; and to some of the less friendly dwarves he asked, all gnomes basically looked the same.

On the whole, the gnomes in the city were more willing to try to help him, but it hurt him to ask when he knew that many of them were in a worse situation than he. His family, at least, could still be alive. And yet he'd come across parents who'd been unable to save their children, widows and widowers everywhere he looked, and orphaned children all over the city. The children in particular tore at his heart; even though he was becoming more and more certain that his own parents were among the recently dead, he couldn't fathom what it would be like to suddenly be alone at that age. Calsh couldn't quite overcome the sense of guilt that came from looking for his own family when they needed so much help, but there wasn't anything he really could do to help. He had no choice but to press on and continue to ask if anybody had seen gnomes matching the descriptions he was giving out.

The task wasn't about to get any less heart-rending, either. From what he'd been able to piece together, the section of the city he was now approaching was acting as a makeshift infirmary, with any building with spare beds temporarily housing those in need of care. Indeed, Calsh could see a wooden sign with hastily-scrawled letters indicating that this was the area to come to for medical attention; its stark difference in composition from the stone signs that adorned the rest of the city only emphasized its temporariness.

Calsh had been putting off coming to this part of the city once he'd found out that it had been set up for this purpose; after all the misery he'd seen among the healthy refugees, he didn't look forward to seeing the plight of the sick. And yet, he knew that if his family had made it out of the city, there was a very good chance they'd have spent at least some time here. Heacha and Rissh were not particularly strong on the best of days, and even the relatively short trip from Gnomeregan to Ironforge would be extremely taxing to their health. Even if his parents could render the care that his younger sister and brother were unable to provide for themselves, they likely would have stopped in with the medics after the trip. That was in the best case; Calsh knew that his siblings would probably need care for much longer than that after such a journey. He was worried that he would find them still in the infirmary, but he was even more scared that he wouldn't.

He steeled himself and pressed forward. To Calsh's astonishment, it appeared that the buildings' capacities were sufficient for everyone inside; he had expected there to be at least enough injured that those in better conditions would be forced outside to make room for the patients in need of much more intensive treatment. Healthy dwarves and gnomes — and even a few humans — were scurrying back and forth between the commanding stone buildings, most of them carrying bags or trays of some sort, apparently providing care to those who needed it, and all moving with a sense of purpose that seemed to indicate that everyone knew exactly where they were needed most. A friendly-looking dwarven woman stood behind an overturned crate with a stack of papers on top of it, occasionally turning around to talk with one of the medics before going back to writing. She seemed to be acting as a record keeper for the infirmary operation, and as far as Calsh was concerned, that was as good a place as any to start.

He anxiously approached the crate and the young woman looked up from her papers and down at him, giving him a weary but welcoming smile. "What can I do for you, sir?" she asked, in a polite voice with a surprisingly mild accent. "Do you need to see a medic?"

"No, miss. I've been looking for my family, and I was wondering if they might have come through here."

Her expression softened. "Well, mister, erm..."

"Call me Calsh," he offered.

"Right, Calsh. I'm Morathna. And what were the names of the ones you were hoping to find here?"

This mildly surprised Calsh; he'd been so used to giving out descriptions all morning that it was odd to have someone ask for names. And yet, from his brief observations, this infirmary seemed to be run with nearly stunning efficiency given the circumstances; it made sense that they'd record patient names if they were able to get them. "I'm looking for four family members... my sister Heacha, brother Rissh, and parents Bixen and Nimi. All Pushsprocket."

Morathna nodded and began tracing her thick finger down various sheets of paper. "Pushsprocket... Pushsprocket... I'm sorry; this could take a few minutes."

Calsh nodded at her and let her continue to work. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked back up; her expression was hard to read, and Calsh waited with bated breath for her response, hoping that she'd found them, but expecting that she hadn't.

"Mister Calsh, we do have a record of a Heacha and a Rissh Pushsprocket."

Calsh looked up excitedly as he felt his heart begin to race. "They're here?"

"Well, my records don't show them leaving, but you have to understand we've been very busy and I know these records aren't perfect. But it seems like they are here, and from the looks of it, they're not in bad shape... just not quite healthy enough that we're comfortable letting them go yet."

The relief Calsh felt was immense. Heacha and Rissh had survived! He pushed the instant question of how they'd managed to escape out of his mind; he was more than a bit surprised that they'd managed to make it out of the fallen city when so many less frail than them didn't, but that line of thinking was best saved for another day.

Still, only half of the people he was looking for were accounted for. "And what about my parents?"

"Mister Calsh, your parents don't seem to be in the records." She frowned slightly before quickly continuing, apparently not wanting to give him any reason to be inappropriately worried. "But that doesn't mean they didn't make it out! If they just brought your brother and sister for treatment and didn't need help themselves, their names probably wouldn't be written down. And, as I said, I know these records aren't complete!"

While not knowing the status of his parents was a bit troubling, Calsh still felt like an incredible burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Of course his parents had made it out; there was no way that Heacha and Rissh could have escaped without dad and mom's help, not in their condition. Morathna was probably right; they probably just didn't need any treatment, and thus weren't in the records. But chances were good that they were at his siblings' bedside, and if they weren't, Rissh or Heacha probably knew where they were.

"Well, I'm sure if anyone knows about my parents, it would be my brother and sister. Could you point me to them?"

Morathna blushed; apparently she was flustered enough that she hadn't even thought of that method of locating the rest of his family. "Of course, Mister Calsh!" She pointed, and Calsh turned his head to follow her finger. "See that building on the corner over there? The records say that your brother and sister are in a room together on the lower floor! I'd have someone show you there, but as you can see, I'm afraid we're a little busy, so I hope you can forgive me." She gave a slight nervous bow of her head.

"It's okay, Morathna," he said. "You've already given me more than enough help."

"Good luck with finding your family, mister Calsh!"

With a quick bow, he turned and trotted toward the building that Morathna had indicated. The building was one of the dwarven houses that Calsh had always considered to be inverted; the front door was actually up a flight of stairs on the second level of the building, so he'd have to climb up the stairs outside and then climb back down stairs inside to reach the lower floor where he expected to find his family. He'd never quite understood why some dwellings were built this way; perhaps it was a little safer against attackers with no ground-level door, but the stairs wouldn't stop any determined foe, and the presence of windows dismissed any impressions that the stone building was meant to act as a fortress. Still, it wasn't his home, and he knew he should be grateful to the owner for allowing the makeshift infirmary to commandeer the building.

Calsh was even more enamored with the owner of the building when he walked through the front door and immediately saw a large fishing net hanging from the ceiling. "This dwarf has good taste," he muttered to himself, and approached the balcony to see a large anchor hanging on the wall across from him. A few gnomes rested on mats spread out along the length of the balcony, underneath a wall bearing a rack of spears and a preserved fish that he recognized as some sort of frenzy. A couple of the occupants of the upper floor looked up and one waved at him; he gave a slight nod back as he approached the stairs in search of his kin.

Turning the corner at the landing halfway down the stairs afforded him a view of the lower level of the building. Two small fishing boats leaned against two different walls, and another fishing net and a rack of fishing poles adorned the third. A pair of unoccupied but recently-used sleeping mats was on the floor to his left. Most importantly, the bed in the far corner held a sleeping gnomish man, and he could see the back of a brown-haired gnomish woman sitting at the table between him and the bed, leaning over a book as if she was trying not to fall asleep.

He had never been so glad to see his brother and sister.

Calsh knew that her slouching position wasn't out of laziness; sitting upright for long periods of time was exhausting for her, and, as she'd explained to him in the past, she'd developed this pose so that she could spend more time reading without wearing herself out and needing to have a rest. Still, to one who didn't know her, it would look like she was rather bored; an accusation Calsh had found it necessary to defend her from on a number of occasions when they did manage to be around others. Nobody was here to judge her now, though; her twin was asleep and even weaker than she; and her older brother had no intentions to insult her.

Heacha didn't notice him immediately as he approached the table from behind her. Her dark hair hung loose and disheveled, and her favorite red dress fluttered around her legs as she slowly swung them, ankles crossed, back and forth underneath her chair. It was obvious that she'd been wearing the dress for several days straight, and from the musty odor in the room, it seemed likely that neither she nor her twin brother had left it since they had first arrived there.

She looked up as she finally noticed him out of the corner of her eye, her gloomy expression turning into a wide smile as she recognized her big brother. "Calsh!" she squeaked, quietly enough that she was barely audible.

"Hey, Hea," he returned. He approached her chair and leaned over to hug her; she allowed herself to collapse into his arms, and remained in that position for the better part of a minute before she broke away and leaned back in her chair. He noticed that she was breathing heavily.

"I missed you so much!" she half-whispered, smiling at him. A startled expression overtook her face, and she blushed slightly, as if she was embarrassed that she'd just let herself show emotion. "I mean, I was apprehensive that your ventures were going to terminate cataclysmically, and we would never have the opportunity to interact with you again!"

Calsh smiled; his sister was very book-smart, but sometimes it seemed like she used unnecessarily large words to emphasize this fact when smaller ones would have sufficed. "You're always worried that I won't make it back on every trip I take, and I've proven you wrong every time." He looked over at his sleeping brother.

Heacha caught his glance. "The nurse said to allow him to rest when he feels it necessary; we should not disturb his slumber. But I'm certain that Rissh will be delighted to see you when he does awaken."

Calsh nodded, and then looked his younger sister in the eye. "I'll let him sleep. Anyway, I know you've been through a lot; are you doing okay?"

Heacha frowned slightly. "The journey here was grueling; I think both of us are still recovering from it." She nodded over at her sleeping brother. "I've been considerably exhausted over these past few days, both physically and mentally. But your presence has increased my joviality immensely." She gave a weak smile as if to emphasize the point.

Calsh looked over at the empty mats on the floor. "And what about mom and dad? How are they doing?"

His sister looked as if she'd just been kicked; she immediately let out a sigh and stared intently at the edge of the table in front of her, allowing her hair to fall in front of her eyes. "Calsh... they're not here." She paused for a few moments. "They didn't make it," she whispered.

Calsh suddenly felt as deflated as his sister looked. His brother and sister had somehow managed to escape in spite of their frail condition, and his healthy parents hadn't gotten out? It didn't make any sense to him! "They're g... they were left behind?"

She nodded.

"But then, how..." He trailed off, at a loss for words. Not an hour ago, he'd suspected his entire family was dead. Now that he'd found his siblings, the news of the loss of his parents seemed all the worse. He'd let his hopes get too high, and when they fell, they fell hard. He felt his eyes begin to water, but no tears came.

He remembered the orphans he'd seen earlier in the day, and realized that he and his siblings were technically in the same situation. Fortunately, the three of them were all adults, but Calsh also recognized that Heacha and Rissh were not self-sufficient, not after the childhood disease that neither had fully recovered from, leaving them robbed of their physical endurance for life. The two of them did what they could to help out at their parents' shop, but he knew that neither of them had the strength or energy to fully support themselves financially. Even as adults, they'd been dependent on their parents and Calsh to provide for them; with his parents gone, Calsh abruptly had become their sole caregiver.

The two of them sat together in silence for several minutes before Calsh finally managed to find his voice again. "Heacha... can I ask how it happened?"

To his surprise, she shook her head. "I'm..." She clenched her fists. "No, don't ask that," she finally muttered, in a surprisingly serious tone. "And don't ask Rissh either."

"That bad?"

"I just... please don't ask."

They again sat in silence.

Half of his immediate family was no longer among the living, and from Heacha's reaction, Calsh could only assume that his parents' deaths had not been pleasant. Of course, dying rarely was pleasant, and Calsh certainly wasn't looking forward to it himself, but he knew his sister well enough to know that there was something more, something so bad that even she, calm, collected, and nearly-emotionless Heacha, couldn't bear to voice it. Something about the whole situation had scared her deeply, and Calsh wished he knew what it was; bad news was better than no news, after all, even if the bad news concerned the likely stomach-churning details of the death of his own parents. But he didn't dare press her for details before she was ready to tell him; with the rare amount of emotion she was allowing herself to show now, she was obviously in a fragile mental state, and there was no way he was going to risk making it worse.

His thoughts were interrupted by a shuffling upstairs; soon enough, he saw a stocky young dwarf coming down the stairs bearing a tray. From his perspective beneath the dwarf, Calsh couldn't see what was on the tray, but the dwarf's face was visible: a friendly but weary face adorned by the usual amount of nearly-golden facial hair, with eyes that looked like they hadn't seen sleep in quite a while. The visitor finally reached the bottom of the stairs and was about to speak when he apparently sensed the sorrowful mood and thought better of it; instead, he placed a dish with some stale looking bread and an apple on the table in front of Heacha, and an identical one on the small stand next to the bed where Rissh was sleeping. He turned around, nodded to Calsh and Heacha, and then carried his tray back upstairs, leaving them in silence.

The dwarf's departure led Calsh to realize that as much as he wanted to see his siblings, he couldn't bear to sit awkwardly in this room any more. Despite the fact that he'd been walking all morning, he needed a little bit more exercise to give him time to gather his thoughts. Besides, he tried to convince himself, I'm sure Rissh and Heacha would appreciate some fresher food and a change of clothes.

"Heacha," he said, "you need better food than that. Why don't I go get you some, and maybe Rissh will be awake when I get back?"

Heacha immediately recognized what her older brother was doing and thus didn't bother to tell him that she was perfectly fine with the bland meals she'd been eating for the past few days. Although she didn't really want him to leave so soon after he'd arrived, she recognized how uncomfortable he was feeling, and she knew that he'd return to her. "Some... some supplemental nourishment would be acceptable," she said, both of them recognizing the distinct ambivalence in her statement.

Calsh still couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment, but he had to leave this suddenly-horrid room. "I'll be back soon, I promise," he finally stammered, standing and approaching her to give her another hug.

"I know you will," his little sister said, squeezing him as tight as she was able. "Take as long as you need."

He broke off the hug, wincing slightly at the thought of how little effort it took to push aside her grasp. "Thank you," he said, and with one final nod at her, he hurried back up the stairs to the front door of the house.

((Posted 7 March 2008))