Chapter 7: Respite

Her skin stung with a prickling, all over her body, like a shroud of nettle-cloth laid over her. The blizzard outside the window seemed to have stopped, because she couldn't hear the howling, and the frozen rain wasn't pelting her any more. She must have passed out during their trek in the storm. They must have brought her to shelter, for the only thing she could hear was a quiet, crackling fire overhead. They must have been very desperate for cover, though, for the air here was clammy and foul.

"… Don't tell them anything…" The faint memory wafted in like lazy morning fog, and her sleepy mind snatched at it, trying to remember who said it and why it was important. The more she tried to catch it, the farther it seemed to recede. With a start, she realized she dreamed it, and that meant she was awake now. She sat up with a violet jerk of alarm and looked around.

Dusty, fitted-stone walls surrounded her, weakly lit by a few guttering torches in sconces near the cobwebbed ceiling, which was smeared with soot from the flames. The walls were pock-marked with large, deep recesses, which held long bundles. After a moment, she realized those bundles were the size of people. This was a crypt! The source of the nauseating smell made sudden and awful sense, and she raised a hand to cover her nose and mouth.

Bella was again bombarded with several realizations simultaneously. First: that she had control over her own body once more, second: that most of her fingers were gone, and third: she couldn't see the end of her nose at the bottom of her vision. She dropped her hand from her face and raised the other so she could stare at them both in the dim light.

They were appalling. Most of the bones were exposed in her fingers, because the flesh was gone and the edges were torn and grey. In better light, she thought her skin might look to even have a greenish tinge, like a rotten apple. Aghast, she flexed her fingers experimentally. They moved easily, but she could only feel the parts near her palm, where she still had flesh. Nearly numb with shock, she poked her scarred palms with the tips of her finger-bones and could only feel it in her skin.

Dropping her hands, she looked around once more in alarm. After a quick scan, though, she began to relax. As dreadful as this place was, at least there was no one here capable of hurting her. As far as she could tell, she was alone in this dark and wretched pit. She took a breath and exhaled in a sigh of relief.

Bella didn't know why she was relieved, only that she was. Her memories were a jumbled mess, and she didn't want to delve too deeply right now. She wasn't sure why, only that she didn't. It felt like the most important thing in the world to just sit quietly in this dank, silent hole in the ground and breathe. Tension slid away like butter in a hot skillet as she inhaled and exhaled, completely filling her lungs before emptying them. Willing herself not to think about her hands, she focused solely on reinforcing the feeling that the worst was over.

Small sounds, soft and moist, made her turn her head. A tiny and pale blue figure approached her from the darkness. It gurgled inquiringly and stepped into the weak light, where she could see it better. It had red and orange spikes protruding from its back and bulbous eyes which looked up at her curiously. It padded closer and poked her thigh with one finger. It grinned a single baby-tooth grin and began to jump from foot to foot in the dust on the floor. It kicked its feet out repeatedly in what she realized was a happy and awkward little caper to make her smile. With a start, she realized she was doing exactly that.

"He missed you" came a grating but quiet voice. Bella gasped and turned to a dark corner of the room she thought was empty. Panic sluiced through her veins as a man slowly emerged from it. In the dim light, it was hard to see more than his outline. He was hunched over and his hair was lank, but strength and confidence made him seem powerful and sure. There was no malice, no violence in his gaze. In his three little words, she heard depths of longing and relief. He moved fluidly and carefully, and for some reason that made her less afraid.

"Who…?" she asked, not really sure if she meant to ask who he meant, or who he was. The little blue creature had scampered back to his robe, gripping the fabric and gurgling up at him. Still watching him, she twisted to swing her legs from her niche in order to put her feet on the stone floor. The man's face was shadowed, his eyes dark. He reached down to stroke the spines on the little hunch-backed creature.

"Murky" he replied, his voice rich with affection and pride. He looked up at her and beamed. "I've taken care of him while you were sleeping." He straightened up and offered a hand, palm up, to her. It was grotesque, fingers shriveled and scarred. She glanced from it to his gentle face and took his hand after a moment. He stepped closer and helped her out of her grave.

"How long was I… sleeping?" She asked, to cover the flustered feelings he woke in her. This close, she could see that his face wasn't just shadowed; he had only empty eye sockets. He had once been handsome, though. He had once had the face of a good man, she was certain.

"About two and a half weeks," he replied casually. He hadn't let go of her hand, but instead held it gently. This close, he smelled vaguely of blood and soil. He smiled at her with such comfortable warmth that she didn't want to lose his closeness. She knew then that he'd protect her from anyone who wanted to harm her. It made her head spin to realize in the space of five minutes he'd become the most important thing in her life.

"Who ARE you?" she said in wonder.

Her question was disappointing, clearly. "Give it time; eventually your memory will come back. For now, you can call me 'Monsai Raku'." His voice held patience and reassurance. His fingers stroked the top of her hand lovingly.

"I can't believe you found me!" she blurted, near tears. "M… Mahn… Monsai" His name was strange in her mouth, but she'd say anything to keep him near. She could only remember disturbing dreams and unpleasant snatches of the past. In the warmth of his strange affection, those things seemed far away. She clung tighter to his hand and drank in the feelings he had for her.

"Nothing could keep me from you, not your father, and certainly not death." He replied with a smile. He pulled her hand carefully, using it to turn her body. She followed his lead and looked at some rough-stone steps leading up. She took a wobbling step forward, and he gripped her arm gently to support her. Together they walked towards the stairs.

"Death…? I'm… dead?" She gazed at his face, trying to read an expression in features that had no eyes. "Are you… dead, too?" He nodded, with a patient smile on his lips. "We're… dead." The fact was hard to accept, even though it explained so much: his face, her hands, the crypt. She climbed the stairs woodenly, mostly through his gentle pressure. She mulled the fact over in the near-silence as they rose. The little creature he called Murky climbed ahead of them by hopping with both feet up to the next stair.

Her companion raised his free hand to stroke her cheek lightly for a moment. "We're dead together," he corrected affectionately. He dropped his hand and turned to face forward, resuming their climb. She followed his gaze and got her first look at their surroundings.

It was a still, starry-filled night, though she couldn't see the moon. On the horizon were the silhouettes of pine trees. A bonfire was quietly roaring not quite twenty feet away on their left. It smelled like char and cooking meat. Between it and them, grave markers stood in stark relief in the firelight, accusing in their shadow-shrouded facelessness. There were no nightbird calls. A shambling figure near the fire turned, saw them, and approached with a hobbling gait.

Monsairaku's demeanor changed. Where before there was softness, now there was only power and control. Where there was affection, there was now only steely challenge. His grip on her arm tightened slightly, but not to a painful degree. He took a step forward while pulling her back, as if to put his body between hers and the man coming forward.

"You actually found what you were looking for, after all this time?" the stranger cackled in amusement. His high-pitched tone was not kind, and he stopped just out of reach of her companion. Bella stiffened in readiness, hoping she could make her body run if told to flee.

"Be quiet, knave." Monsairaku commanded in a low, gravelly tone. He reached out his free hand and showed it to the other man. Fire began to coalesce over the flesh. The other man backed up with a hiss.

"You don't have to be like that! I'm going!" He snarled like a whipped dog and began to slink back the way he came. Monsairaku guided her to the stone path that sloped away from the underground crypt out of which they had climbed, down a hillside on which they stood. The other man turned back suddenly and shouted at their retreating backs. "You better make sure she reports for evaluation in Deathknell! That's the rule!" She heard his faraway tone turn spiteful with glee. "Otherwise she'll be hunted!" Bella shivered at the thought of whatever THAT meant.

"You never have to worry again." The soft tone emerged once more in Monsairaku's quiet reassurance as they stepped through a broken-down gateway arch. Ahead, a few dilapidated wooden buildings slumped together on either side of their pathway, lit by torches on poles near doorways. She turned and smiled uncertainly at him, and was rewarded with a beaming smile from him in return.

Serious once more, he guided them to the first building on their left. Together they stepped up into what might have been a schoolhouse or meeting house. There was no furniture, only a few other people talking quietly amongst themselves. The room was well lit with sconces, and she could see them clearly. They were hideous, corpses all in tattered and faded clothing of every station. Most of the faces were mutilated.

A strong man's voice called out Monsairaku by name. He stepped forward and led Bella to the speaker. It had been a balding man, but now was missing half his lower jaw and had straps over its eyes. It, too, was hunched over but somehow managed to appear strong, not weak. His tone was authoritative without being imperious, inquisitive without being offensive. "Who have we here?" Monsairaku didn't answer. He instead turned to Bella and smiled with pride and triumph.

"It's time to choose a new name, to signal our new life." Everyone in the room gazed at her, all of them, waiting. Some seemed bored, some seemed interested, but they all stood in silence and watched her.

"… Don't tell them anything…" The words were barely more than a whisper, barely more than a hiss. In the silence, they seemed to echo. Bella inhaled sharply, looking around her for the speaker. Every face she checked merely waited, gazing at her in the thickening silence. She realized none of them had spoken, none had heard it. The voice was for her alone. Her feeling of safety evaporated like a soap bubble. She blurted the first thing she could think.

"Bella."

Chills went up her spine and bumps rose on her arms as she looked around desperately. She hadn't meant to say that name! What if it was one of the things she was supposed to hide? Whatever woman had given her that dire order, she was not one to cross. Her skin prickled as she waited for the consequence of her failure.

Some smirks, some smiles, some eyebrows were raised, but the room did not suddenly explode or evaporate. Monsairaku patted her hand and said pleased, "My Bella." The man who had called them over reached a hand out to her.

"Bella, I am Shadow Priest Sarvis. I am in charge of evaluating those who are newly broken from the Lich King's control. Please give me your hand; This won't hurt. I don't know how much you have been told, so let me try to explain our … situation… to you while I work." Monsairaku pulled her hand under the outstretched one. She felt prickling warmth in the shadow priest's palm as it glowed over hers. He took a deep breath and distractedly spoke as would a teacher repeating himself for the third time.

"We have been freed from the control of the Lich King by our new leader, Lady Sylvanas. The Dark Lady guides us in our war against the hated Scourge and the holdouts of humanity that dog our every step." The glow faded and he sighed and pointed at a woman in the corner.

She had strange, glowing eyes and blue-tinged skin. Her red and brown dress was ornate but tattered, the rich cloth faded and the sleeves frayed. She held herself with dignity, though her shoulders were stooped and her hair greasy and off-color. "Greetings, child." She called, triumphantly. The other people in the room turned away, resuming their conversations. Monsairaku helped Bella walk to this new woman. Although she was fairly certain she could walk on her own, his arm was comforting in the chill of that terrible whisper.

When they reached her, the woman smiled, but with pride and superiority. Her gaze was possessive but not complimentary. "I am Venya Marthand, your new trainer. I can see you are still young in the ways of the warlock, power still eluding your grasp." Her tone grew stern and reproachful. "There is no strength in ignorance. Knowledge is our greatest power." Her voice grew lusty; her face was aglow with memories Bella did not want to share. "Through its application, we can control the chaotic magics and beings of the void, bending them to our will." Her lecturing tone returned. "Your power is little now, though I suspect already you sense the possibilities. Even the dead might feel alive, with that power coursing through us." The woman waited, grinning, as if hoping to see in response a hunger for what she promised.

When greeted with only stoic silence, Venya sighed with disappointment and continued, nonplussed. "I will show you how to bind a servant to your will, but first you must bring me three skulls of the rattlecage skeletons near the abandoned smithy." She pointed past them to the door. Dismissed, Monsairaku pivoted to guide Bella back into the night.

"A warlock" Bella's companion mused out loud. He looked down at her and smiled. "This will make for an interesting pair." She smiled with relief at his acceptance of whatever judgement had been laid on her as they stepped into the night together.