Rating (this chapter): PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to WoW and don't make any money off this.
_________________________
Chapter 1 - The Door
Merihem already knew about the door in the back wall of the Slaughtered Lamb tavern. She had known for a long time. Curiosity led her to it. The Slaughtered Lamb barkeep had eyed her appraisingly as she pressed it open. Merihem had met his piercing gaze calmly; he peered into her, searching. Intuitively she felt he was the keeper of this doorway, that none could pass it unless he found the correct arrangement of desires and feelings and aspirations within. When the man finally looked away, Merihem felt as if a key had clicked into place within an intangible lock: she knew she was opening more than just the door in front of her. She felt no fear, though; only a tense anticipation and renewed longing.
The place below had since become Merihem's sanctuary. Descending the winding ramp into the crypt she felt the pressures of the world above slip away. She sank into a darker, more primal place. Carved from the earth itself, primitive energies and feelings stirred here, concealed under the skin of the tightly ordered city above. Merihem felt a natural kinship with this place. It was cool, slightly damp, and almost as silent as might be expected from a crypt. The silence was offset by the sibilant rustling of robes and the soft patter of footsteps, occasionally punctuated by a sputtering flame or the sharp clicking and clanking of hooves. A soft hum of almost-whispered voices and shifting parchment echoed gently. It was an eerie, tranquil place. Merihem found it both soothing and exciting.
At first she was confused by the sounds of hooves. How could livestock be kept underground? Her naive curiosity was promptly replaced with shock when she rounded a corner and found herself face to face with one of the catacomb's denizens. Frozen in place by shock, she could only gape uselessly at the monster in front of her. Small, glittering red eyes locked onto hers, muscles bunched and coiled beneath plate armor, and suddenly she noticed the huge, spattered axe being hoisted above her head, ready to end her in single swipe.
"That's not necessary... at least not at this exact moment. Who have we here?" came a small but stern voice from somewhere behind the monster.
The monster curled his lips at her, revealing rows of small pointed teeth. Despite the fact that moments earlier she had been in mortal danger, Merihem made no move to run away. Astonishment had numbed her and she stood gaping at the thing in front of her. He stepped back, and the sound of his steps quickly dispelled Merihem's now-foolish idea about livestock. The creature was a demon, of course; as such he had no feet, but rather massive, armored hooves that clopped sharply on the stone floor.
"Well?" the small voice came again, more insistently, "who have we here?"
Merihem blinked, and forced her sluggish brain back up through the fog of surprise. Demons! In Stormwind! Weren't they the mortal enemies of all life on Azeroth? Why did it seem that great numbers of them were contentedly dwelling beneath the surface of the Alliance's greatest and most holy city? As far as Merihem knew, demons did not hold other life forms in particularly high regard; why this one obeyed commands was utterly beyond her.
"Merihem", she blurted out her name after another moment's hesitation. She had to look downward to address the voice who had spoken earlier. Standing just higher than her kneecap, a grizzled-looking gnome grunted in response. The gnome may have been old or young; Merihem couldn't tell. His sharp facial features and prominent nose were largely masked by an impressively sculpted growth of charcoal-colored facial hair. Peering out from above were a pair of glittering black eyes.
"Merihem," the gnome repeated rather nastily, "And what exactly are you doing here? Your robes are indicative of involvement with magi. Such types are... not welcome here. You should know this, and know you made a fatal error in coming here."
The demon practically purred with excitement and hefted his axe again. Merihem cast a sidelong glance at him, noted his body, exposed from the waist up, poised and flexed, ready to strike. The shock she felt earlier was quickly strangled by fear.
"Wait!" she gasped, "wait... I'm not... I mean, I am associated with magi, but..." Merihem trailed off weakly, realizing suddenly how ridiculous it was that she had come here. Fraternizing with these people and these demons was not healthy or constructive or good. Anlorre had warned her and the other mage students about the dangerous temptations of dark magic; the power and insight it offered a student such as herself, followed by the agonizing destruction of their mind and enslavement by the Burning Legion. Anlorre had described this as a final, total result. To her, there could be alternatives. Merihem looked at the small gnome in front of her. He was deeply calm and radiated an aura of subtle power and competence. Intimidating, despite his diminutive stature. He seemed very much in command of the demon at his side.
The gnome narrowed his eyes. "But what?" he pressed. The demon stamped a hoof, clearly peeved at being unable to put his axe to use.
"It's not enough," Merihem said suddenly, "There's no wonder in it, there's no reverence. It's sterile and static and... almost mechanical, I guess. I don't feel that it embodies life, or the 'spirit of Universe', or whatever else it claims. It's a lie. I want to understand, but instead of being encouraged to delve further I'm simply boxed in, shut out, forcibly turned away. There are walls and boundaries and barriers and they are absolute. The Elements are the Elements and that's it. There's nothing visceral and alive and powerful in that. It's just... I don't know, like a living manifestation of a textbook."
Merihem blinked with confusion, startled at her sudden verbosity. She had never shared this with anyone before; she didn't understand why it suddenly poured out in a confession to this strange gnome in a demon-filled crypt.
The gnome was silent for a moment, drawn into himself as he studied her words. She could feel the demon's eyes on her, unsettlingly warm, and resisted the temptation to look at him further.
"Go. Return here tomorrow," the gnome commanded softly.
"But who..." Merihem began.
"I said go and return tomorrow," he repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.
Still confused, Merihem wandered up out of the crypt. As she passed the Slaughtered Lamb bartender, he nodded approvingly at her and said, "See ya tomorrow."
Merihem waved silently. How did he know? What was this place really? Merihem's mind was crowded with the unlikely company of unknowns and something like sensory overload. She mentally replayed another of Anlorre's lectures: the history of magic. Long ago, evil was brought into the world by magi who grew greedy and megalomaniacal, those who sought power and shirked responsibility, those who placed personal gain before the needs of their fellows. These fallen magi turned their backs on nature, and chose instead the embrace of shadows and the creatures who dwelled within them. They became allies of the Burning Legion and enemies of life, vastly powerful and equally terrible. They were oathbreakers: warlocks.
The brutal face and hulking, muscled body of the demon in the crypt burst into her mind. Of course, she thought, there were warlocks here. Despite numerous attempts to eradicate them, the dark magi had never been fully destroyed. They hid in basements and crypts and forests adjacent to cities, masquerading in the light of day as ordinary people, conducting their errands under the watchful but myopic eyes of the King and the Church of Light. Merihem sensed that Anlorre knew of them; the intensity with which she had spoken was not the byproduct of research or hearsay. Why did she not pursue their destruction? Was there an uneasy truce between the two schools of magic now? Despite her high regard for the older mage's superior wisdom and experience, Merihem felt that her own new experience with warlocks did not line up with the images her instructor described. After her unexpected confession to the gnome, she felt a hint of kinship with him. He had used no tricks or magic to force her to speak. The words had simply tumbled out as her inner voice sensed a willing ear. The usual barricade between her mind and mouth had dissolved; in the crypt there had been no need for self-consciousness. Those who dwelt there already existed far beyond ordinary rules and convention, so there were simply none to be broken. Surely the warlocks had their own codes and laws, but when thinking of what they may be Merihem envisioned not a series of rigid walls, but rather a thick, winding forest, fluid and full of darkness and life, drawing her further in not through fear of retribution but through desire. An overwhelming urge to return to the crypt swept over her, but she resisted. The very real repercussions of associating with warlocks loomed large in her mind… as did the demon's eagerness for her blood. She had only survived because of the gnome's inexplicable mercy and it was doubtful he'd be so beneficent a second time. All the same, the intensity of her desire to return almost frightened her. It was a rash and life-threatening urge, running firmly against her usual grain of practicality and security. Merihem added the unnerving strength of her desire and curiosity to the list of things she didn't understand, and tried for a moment to think more realistically. The gnome had asked her to return tomorrow, presumably at the same time. This was doable. After the day's lessons were complete, she was unattended for a few hours before being expected back at the dormitory. The great challenge between now and then would be to act as if she wondered nothing and understood everything, as if she felt no desire and only complacence. Anlorre's astuteness and exceptionally keen powers of observation were no secret to Merihem, and she had no doubt that the older woman would sense confusion, turmoil, and perhaps catch a hint of the demon's lingering gaze in her eyes. If Anlorre noticed, lying was not an option. No lie escaped her detection.
Merihem drew deep breaths as she walked back to the dormitory, clearing her mind, blissfully alone amidst the crowded streets of Stormwind. This moving meditation had never failed to soothe Merihem. Even during times of great anxiety, the coolness and long velvety shadows of evening brought her peace. This time, instead of welcoming blankness and clarity, images of the demon danced unbidden in her mind. Details of his face and body blinked into mental focus from the shadows. Merihem felt no fear, grasping at these small fragments of an image, longing to piece them together into a meaning. Merihem was also aware, on a more conscious level, of the sheer ridiculousness of this; a demon who nearly killed her was not the place to find a meaning for anything, other than perhaps her own foolishness. Close to home now, she focused on the lights in the dormitory windows instead of the beckoning shadows.