Rating (this chapter): PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to WoW and don't make any money off this.
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Chapter 2 - Dilemmas
Anlorre was not a woman who simply looked at things. She was a woman who noticed things, who could truly see. Anlorre had never been a brilliant mage or a stellar student, but had never done poorly either. Even so she landed a magic instructorship at an unusually young age, largely because of her preternatural powers of observation and her unyielding diligence and attention to detail, her drive to do things the right way. Merihem respected Anlorre greatly because of this, as her marks indicated that she herself was not particularly brilliant or precocious. Instead of Anlorre's stolid practicality and self-discipline, however, Merihem was endowed with a wild curiosity and a strange open-hearted innocence that conquered all fear.
Merihem nearly sighed with relief as she slipped quietly away from Anlorre's classroom. The day was over, the sun was just beginning to wane; it was time to return. The gnome waited. And so did the demon. Images of the demon haunted her relentlessly as she had attempted to focus on her daily tasks and the mindlessness of routine only offering wider spaces for her mind to wander in. She wondered about him and his kind. She was curious about his voice… could he speak in a language she could understand? She wanted to ask him many things, though the questions eluded her.
A hand on her shoulder stopped Merihem in her tracks.
"A moment, please," Anlorre's firm but kind voice sounded behind her.
Merihem turned to face the other woman. Anlorre's face showed concern. She was not an old woman, but certainly looked it at times. The strain of unknown worries and stresses had already printed small lines on her brown skin, and the lines stood out sharply when she immersed herself in thought.
"What are you thinking about?" Merihem inquired. Perhaps it was out of place to direct such a personal question to a superior, but Anlorre's cloudy expression was not lost on her.
"Be mindful of your curiosity, Merihem. Many have stood where you now stand, and not all have overcome. You may sense answers, but not to any question you have asked. Take care that you find the Right answers within the bounds of the Right path. The shadows grow long once you wander away. You will not find your way back; you will lose yourself in those shadows and whatever remains will serve as nothing more than a tool for the empowerment of evil," Anlorre cautioned firmly.
The mage instantly noted Merihem's rapidly shifting facial expressions: surprise to confusion to fear to indignation back to a forcibly applied mask of neutrality, all in the blink of an eye. Anlorre knew now that she had been correct. It was common for her students, for people in general, to have a fascination with and a healthy fear-driven respect for evil. Stories of heinous crimes and brutal warlords were always tavern favorites; it was human nature. Everyone needed a milestone on which to base his or her own personal goodness. Let them explore, let them delve. Fear always stopped them at a certain point. A rare few might stop themselves from falling into evil out of a respect for life, but Anlorre knew that for most there was nothing but a thin layer of terror stopping them: a terror of getting caught, a terror of who could do worse… it was irrelevant. The fear was a deterrent, and that was all that mattered.
Anlorre saw the curiosity written all over Merihem's face and body language and eyes and this was normal. The lack of fear was a cause for concern.
"You have been below," Anlorre continued, not giving Merihem a chance for excuses. She remained cryptic in order to further read the other woman's reactions. Anlorre found that, when seeking information from a person, direct questioning was often a poor approach. A suggestion was adequate; the other person's mind would immediately supply the relevant answer, and display it all over their face. Words were optional.
Merihem watched Anlorre looking at her, knew the other woman had seen unspoken confessions and apologies and questions. There was no point in denial.
"I'm still alive, though. They didn't hurt me," Merihem replied weakly.
"That's why I'm worried. I think it would be unwise for you to return. I know the temptations are great… I know. That is what's easy to see. What isn't so easy to see is the danger. The consequences. The oathbreakers brought the Burning Legion to this world. They brought evil into this world. By associating with them, you do nothing but propagate this evil. You thoughtlessly and selfishly endanger your life and the lives of everyone you know. The oathbreakers may simply need an informant. Think about that," Anlorre finished quietly.
"An informant?" Merihem repeated clumsily.
Anlorre steadily continued her explanation. "Merihem, you know the history. You know the oathbreakers betrayed us to further their own power. The only reason they still exist is because of negligence… and further defections from our ranks. They do not think highly of us, obviously. They know we hunt them."
"How are they allowed to exist in Stormwind, then? Why do we not destroy them? Do they wage war against us?" Merihem pressed, her desire for answers overriding her tact.
Anlorre pursed her lips and looked hard at Merihem. There was no trace of fear in her student's eyes or voice. She was not asking because she sought indirect reassurance. She was asking because she wanted to know.
"Think on what I've said to you," Anlorre replied, choosing not to answer, "Very little in this world stands between civilization and the chaos. Good evening."
With a polite nod of dismissal, she swept past Merihem with a swish of robes. Merihem stood surprised; not that Anlorre had discovered her, but that she had opted for a direct confrontation about such a potentially sensitive matter. Anlorre was typically the type to follow a procedure for everything: there was always a series of guidelines, or a committee, or some sort of process that preceded action. Spur of the moment action was unlike her. This breech in Anlorre's usual behavior impressed the seriousness of her words upon Merihem. Despite Anlorre's stern and cautious tone, Merihem had detected a note of urgency.
Urgency… Merihem felt it. The gnome would be waiting. And so would the demon.
* * *
From across a small table in the corner of a tea shop, Anlorre faced her childhood friend Laeryn Chase. Laeryn was a thick, sturdily built woman several years Anlorre's senior. The two women had chosen relatively opposite paths in life: Anlorre had opted for the taciturn abstraction of arcane study, while Laeryn dreamed of the battlefield, sun glinting on armor as she fought for the Light. Her dream burst into reality as she ascended through the ranks of both Stormwind's military and clergy, now a seasoned and distinguished paladin. They had maintained a vague, mostly professional contact as the years passed. Mostly they sought each other when their respective institutions required aid or a favor from the other.
"You still seek protection for these… warlocks beneath our city?" Laeryn inquired. Her demeanor was neutral, but her voice laden with disdain.
"I know this runs contrary to your personal beliefs and wishes, Laeryn. I am aware of the threat they pose to the city. However, this is a time when we must choose our battles wisely. The Scourge grows," Anlorre said. She stirred her tea thoughtfully, studying the ripples in the liquid.
"The Scourge," Laeryn muttered. She lowered her head, her face partially hidden by a shock of ebony hair.
"We cannot fight a war on three fronts. Between the Horde and the Scourge, our forces are spread thin. We must choose our battles wisely," Anlorre repeated, "Which would you fight?"
Laeryn rested her elbows on the table, brows furrowed, fingers steepled. "Like you say our forces are spread thin. The Horde is relentless. Half the time it's all I can do to ensure that our fringe towns aren't completely razed. Our options are few when it comes to dealing with the Scourge… our only hope comes from the fact that the Horde seem to fear them as much as we do."
"Undeath is a nightmare fate for any living creature."
Laeryn sighed deeply, resigned. "Indeed it is. And I suppose you're right… knowing that warlocks are living beneath the city I've given an oath to protect makes my skin crawl. I consider this allowance temporary, Anlorre, and you should as well. The moment I've the men and resources to spare, the oathbreakers and their Burning Legion allies will be out of my city and hopefully out of existence as well."
"Comparatively speaking, the Legion is a relatively minor threat," Anlorre said carefully.
"Nothing about the Legion is a 'minor threat'", snapped Laeryn, "Those demons don't simply seek to end life. They want to remake the Universe itself, according to their own twisted laws and desires." Her face contorted with disgust.
"I know. Their power is immense."
"And uncontrollable. That's the danger of having warlocks running loose in Stormwind. They're so blinded by their desire for power that they're oblivious to whatever costs they must pay to obtain it. Allegiance to demons is something normal people would consider a pretty steep price."
"They can control it, Laeryn."
"Can they? If the warlocks are the ones in control, why does the Legion continue to plot its attacks at the edges of this world?"
Anlorre shrugged. "I don't believe they control the entire Legion. Just… the occasional denizen, as it were. And Stormwind still stands, despite their presence."
"Not through lack of trying on their part," Laeryn shot back, "A covert war is still a war."
"True. But we must also remember that the warlocks and their… servants? Minions? Are no allies of the Scourge either. Warlocks may not value life in the way we do, and they may not fear death either. But Undeath would rob them of the power they sacrificed so much to obtain. The mindlessness of the disease would forever wipe away their sentience and will, and sever their ties with the shadows."
Silence fell between the two women. Anlorre's words carried heavy implications. With the quickness of a practiced strategist, Laeryn sifted through them. "You want to seek a… cooperation of some sort with the warlocks." She spoke slowly and heavily, making no effort to hide her distaste at the idea.
"Not necessarily. However, while not necessarily my friend, the enemy of my enemy is certainly not another enemy."