If I apologize every time it takes me a month to write a chapter, yall are going to get even more sick of me than you already are.
This chapter is pretty good I think! I'd like to know what you think, if you read it. I don't get much feedback, and I'm really curious to know whether or not people like what I'm doing. I know it kind of sucks to follow a story that updates so infrequently, but if you're sticking with me, I'm so grateful.
Brill was only a scant few miles from the Undercity, but even that made for a harrowing journey.
Salissi's emotions ran wild. Part of her was still sick with anxiety and fear, but she was surprised to discover that a still greater part of her was… well, thrilled. It had been so long since she'd seen birds, or trees, or even natural mist. Tirisfal was hauntingly beautiful, and the way the sunbeams cut down through the trees and the fog was as beautiful as anything she'd seen in all her years in the Undercity. She'd barely even left the front gates, and already the beauty was overwhelming.
Before the walk could truly begin, though, she paused at the bottom of the hill. It was… yes, right there. At the side of the road. It was cleanly kept grass, now, not a muddy divot in the ground, but she could almost see herself still lying there, ready to let it all end. This was where she'd given up. This was where her second life had truly begun. This was where-
Water poured from the sky, a torrential downpour that matched the chaos in her mind. For once, there was no fog - the rain had washed it all away. There was plenty of fog inside her, though.
Her.
That was all she could think of herself as. Her, or The Girl. Had she had a name once? She must have, but that was lost like her tears in the rain, lost like so much of what she had been. All that was left was this rotting excuse for a body.
The girl lay in the mud, face to the sky. Dirty water filled her empty eye sockets, but still she could see. Why could she still see? It was just another reminder of the abomination she had become. She was cold, but she could barely feel that anymore. Was that a sign that she was slipping away into blessed oblivion for a second time, or was she simply immune to the temperature?
Where was she? Who was she?
She was The Girl, and she was dead. Wasn't death supposed to be peaceful?
Where had the Light gone?
Lightning flashed, and she squeezed her eyelids shut with a whimper. Barely a moment later, thunder crashed like the sound of an angry God, and she curled herself into a ball. She was covered in mud. Worms writhed all around her, dancing in the blessed moisture, but she didn't care.
They should be eating me, some vague voice whispered in her head. Decomposing rotting return this flesh to the earth the circle of life this is wrong this is WRONG WRONG WRONG
Her thoughts slammed to a halt as she realized she was babbling out loud, and she barked out a laugh that made her own skin prickle.
The Girl stared at her hand. It was white, far too white. Some of the others she'd seen had bones poking out from their skin, but thank the Light, the Light that had forsaken her, that her skin was gnarled but intact.
(wrong)
She closed her hand into a fist, then opened it slowly, unfurling her fingers like the petals of a flower. No, she could be no flower. She raised it to the sky, a dark silhouette against the stormy clouds, and another flash of lightning illuminated it from behind.
How long had it been? How long had she been in the ground
(the red hand laughing)
before that angel of death had brought her back? How had she
(the red hand laughing as he twisted her)
died? Had she had a
(her jaw free as her husband and infant son watched)
family?
She stiffened, and her hand came down to cup her chin - or else, the air where her chin had been, where her tongue flapped uselessly. That horrible laughter bubbled up again, and she curled tighter into a ball. Her hands beat at her temples uselessly. "Go away," she mumbled, strange sounds coming from her jawless maw in some semblance of words. "I don't want to remember I don't want TO REMEMBER PLEASE-" Her shout faded into laughter, and tears rolled down her face, and she choked on a sob.
She didn't want to remember dying, but the images played over and over in her head.
How long did she lie there?
Time didn't matter. An hour? A day?
All The Girl knew was that when the Angel appeared and saved her life, it was still raining.
The first thing she noticed was the sound of hooves. Her eyes were closed, and she was sobbing, and it didn't matter. People had passed her by before, they would pass her by again.
"Another one." The voice was a woman's voice, cold and clipped. The hooves stopped. "Another mindless."
"They're becoming more common, milady." This voice was rough, growling. "The val'kyr are not so gentle as the dead may need."
"I've seen what's on the other side, Nathanos." There was an introspective quality to the woman's voice. Something quiet. "This is a blessing. They don't know it, but I have saved them from a fate far worse than they will ever know."
The Girl wanted to laugh at the woman. This? A blessing? But she could barely lift her head, let alone offer defiance.
"Yes, milady." The male voice hesitated. "Shall I have the men clear her off the road?"
"If you must. My people do not like to be reminded of them."
Rough hands grabbed The Girl's arms, and her eyes flew open. She screamed, the sound more like a banshee than that of a woman, and twisted and rolled. The grips broke, and she flung herself to her feet. Her eye lights rolled like a crazed horse, and she took a step back.
Two undead clad in purple leather armor approached her, their faces cold and uncaring. Behind them, on a pair of skeletal horses, sat a man and a woman. The man had once been human, and his pale skin and glowing red eyes matched the woman's. An almost living, brown beard framed a handsome, solid face.
The woman…
She was beautiful. Clad all in black, with a hood pushed up over her head, her face was pointed and severe, all hard lines and cold calculation. Her eyes were a deep crimson, what The Girl could see of her hair was silver, and her mouth was a tight line - but even as The Girl watched, it twisted into a small smirk. Long ears pulled back from her head, poking out of holes cut in the hood - even in her disoriented state, The Girl could recognize an elf. A column of what appeared to be soldiers surrounded the two, but they hadn't moved to help their brothers. "This one has some spirit left, it seems."
The first soldier made a grab for her, but The Girl darted back, then grabbed him by the wrist. She twisted, and something snapped, the soldier howling in pain. She shoved him forward, into the second soldier, and they both went sprawling in a heap on the ground. Her eyes whipped from side to side, and she grabbed a heavy branch that had been knocked down by the storm. Thunder cracked, and she rained blows down on the two undead men, screaming in rage and terror. Neither could withstand the blows long enough to get to their feet, and one of their noses caved in with a hearty crunch. Black sludge dribbled from the ruined orifice.
The man on the horse - Nathanos? - touched the bow at his back. "Milady? Shall I…?"
The woman raised her hand in a halt gesture. "No. Not yet." She swung herself down from her horse in one graceful motion, and approached The Girl.
The Girl flinched back, raising the branch in a defensive posture, but the woman only smiled coldly. "Do you know who I am?"
The Girl blinked, confused, and shook her head.
(wrong wrong wrong)
"My name is Sylvanas Windrunner. I'm the reason you're here today."
The name meant nothing to her, but… Rusty gears started to turn in The Girl's mind, and something clicked. "You," she hissed. "You did this!" Before she could stop herself, she swung the branch like a massive club, aiming directly at the elf woman's head, hard enough to shatter bone.
Rather than try to dodge the blow, the woman raised a hand and simply stopped the swinging branch an inch from her face. The Girl strained, but the woman simply pulled, and the branch tumbled away to the side of the road.
Without hesitation, not even feeling the torn skin on her palms, The Girl roared and lunged forward, hands twisted into grasping claws, ready to tear this arrogant woman apart with her fingers. Her nails were practically claws, after all. It wouldn't be hard.
Between one moment and the next, though, The Girl found herself unable to move. Sylvanas had taken her by the throat, and squeezed. It didn't seem to matter that she couldn't breathe, but something about the way the former elf applied pressure was terrifying.
"A few pounds of pressure more, and…" Sylvanas tilted her head. "Your neck snaps and you go back to that hell that is death. What's your name?"
She wanted to fight, but she just… couldn't. All the violence had gone out of her. Even through the rain, The Girl felt a tear run down her cheek. "Don't… I don't… remember…" The words were barely intelligible, but the other woman who called herself Sylvanas seemed to understand.
Sylvanas gave her a look that was almost sympathetic. "Perhaps that's for the best. Your old life is over, and you will have to accept that. Why keep something that will tie you to it, like a name?" She stared hard into The Girl's eyes, and she found herself utterly unable to look away, no matter how hard she tried. Those softly glowing red orbs were… hypnotizing. She found herself sagging, going limp in the woman's grip.
She only cried harder, though. "I don't… I can't…" She could barely get the words out, and she still barely knew where she was. "You made me a monster."
Sylvanas smiled with grim humor. "We're all monsters here. It isn't so bad as it seems."
The Girl squeezed her eyes shut tight. "I don't know what to do."
"I think I can help." Sylvanas lowered her to the ground, releasing her throat. "You have good reflexes and combat instincts. I think you have potential."
"P… Potential?" The Girl sniffed, looking up at Sylvanas' face. There was a desperation in her voice, a need for direction.
"I am in need of agents I can trust." Sylvanas snapped her fingers. "Nathanos."
The man jumped off his horse and walked to her side. "Yes, my lady?"
"Find this girl a place to stay, then take her to the Deathstalkers."
He smiled wryly. "Another one of your little projects, my lady?"
Sylvanas sniffed, but she hardly seemed annoyed. "I see what she could become, with time." Her eyes turned distant. "I pity them, you know. The weak ones. They too are our brothers and sisters, even if we must do what has to be done with them."
"Yes, my lady." Nathanos bowed deeply, then offered his hand to The Girl. She glanced nervously from Sylvanas to the man and back, and Sylvanas nodded.
The Girl took his hand, clad in a leather glove, and sniffled. He gave her an encouraging smile, and began to lead her away. "You're a lucky one, girl. The Dark Lady doesn't often take an interest in strays."
That's what she was, wasn't she? A stray. A broken stray. She shuddered, and looked down at the ground as they walked. "I don't want this."
Nathanos opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Sylvanas called out. "Girl."
The Girl ground to a halt, turning her whole body back to look at the Dark Lady.
"When I was a girl in Silvermoon, I had a friend who you remind me of. She was always dirty, always ready for a fight. We used to sneak out and play in the forests at night. A boy tried to touch her once, and she broke his nose." She smiled fondly. "I haven't thought of her in decades."
Nathanos looked confused, and a little concerned. "My lady? Are you feeling alright?"
The Girl listened with rapt attention.
"If you are to live with us, you need a name." Sylvanas's deep red eyes regarded her calmly, and she paused. "She had a good name. A fitting name. Until you remember your old name or think of something better…. Call yourself Salissi."
The Girl-
No, Salissi.
Salissi wiped a tear from one cold cheek, staring down at the patch of grass where she'd lain so long ago.
Sylvanas had given her everything. She'd never be able to repay that debt. How could she? Her life for the Dark Lady.
She lingered there for a long few minutes, haunting that ground like a lost spirit. Finally, she saluted, crossing her arms over her chest. Sylvanas was long gone from this place, but her memory would always be here.
In a way, Salissi thought she would be here forever. There would always be a part of her that was that scared girl, shivering in the cold she could barely feel, waiting for hypothermia or starvation that would never come.
She'd come so far.
Finally, she turned, leaving the grassy patch behind.
She made for Brill.
The road was hilly and winding, and the trees reminded her more and more of grasping fingers as she walked; would they reach down and grab her, pulling her back into the ground?
She'd spent too long in the ground.
Still, she steeled herself. She was Salissi. She was strong. It didn't matter that this place was new and unfamiliar. She could do this. The Dark Lady needed her, and the Light would burn her before she would let her Lady down for any reason.
Tendrils of mist swirled around her feet as she walked, and the bright sun disappeared behind dark clouds. In a way, that was comforting. She was used to the dark in a way she would never again be used to the light. Shadows lengthened, and some of the trees almost seemed to have faces, grimacing in distaste at her as she passed. A breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Whispers in the fog.
She passed several travelers on her short journey, and each time they nodded at her as they passed. She smiled brightly and nodded back. These people were used to the outside. They didn't know what she was. That was fine with Salissi; a little genuine interaction was nice every now and then, and you didn't get that if everyone knew you were the queen's assassin on sight.
One of the travelers was missing a jaw - she'd lost hers due to the circumstances of her death, but for many Forsaken, they just sort of fell off during the decomposition process, before the raising. The muscles and ligaments didn't hold. To this individual, Salissi recommended a good location in the Undercity to obtain a replacement, of whatever material you desired. The traveler thanked her, tipped her a pair of shiny silver coins for the tip, and walked on, standing just a little bit straighter.
That felt good.
After what felt like eons, but couldn't have been more than an hour or two, Salissi arrived at Brill. Salissi had passed through the small town once before, when she had been out of her mind in the beginning, but it had looked far different, then. Back then - she only barely remembered this - the town had been more than a little decrepit, consisting of old Lordaeronian buildings that hardly seemed to have been maintained since the original plague. The place had looked one step from falling apart, not unlike the fledgling nation of the dead that it represented. The architecture had been typical human construction.
Sometime between then and now, however, a great reconstruction effort seemed to have taken place. Gone was the moldering wood and rotting eaves; in their place were curving structures of stone and metal. The glass in the windows was all tinged a slight purple, stained glass in the most basic of structures. The inn was both taller and narrower than she remembered; from the little she remembered hearing about the project, the thing extended a good distance down into the earth. Not only that, the town seemed to have frowned; it extended much further in every direction than she remembered.
Dominating the center square was the crown jewel of the artistry on display: a towering, almost frighteningly lifelike stone statue of the Dark Lady herself, Sylvanas Windrunner. She stood with her hand on her hip, her head tilted, as if to say "Is this all?" The tiny skulls on her shoulder pads were bigger than Salissi's head, her cape splayed out like an enormous sheet of thin rock. The outfit was a bit out of date - Sylvanas had recently covered her midriff with a piece of dark enchanted leather, but apart from that, the statue was the spitting image of her Lady. She stood just outside the pointed metal fence surrounding the base, gazing up at it for a long minute. It really was beautiful.
The town was far more bustling than the last time she'd been here, as well. Men and women - mostly undead, but a few other Horde races dotted the crowd here and there - moved from place to place in throngs, and a quiet murmuring filled the air. It was strange. Usually crowds were loud, but here, under the watchful eye of the stone Sylvanas, nobody seemed to want to raise their voice.
That was, of course, until she finally approached the the building she suspected to be the town hall. She raised her hand to open the door, and paused; there was shouting coming from inside. The voice was gruff, deep, gnarled; it wasn't a young voice, but neither was it exactly the voice of the elderly. She couldn't quite make out the words. It paused every few moments, a calm voice replying, then continued its angry tirade. Salissi waited. She didn't want to be a part of whatever was going on in there, even as nosy as she was.
Finally, the voices ceased, and heavy stomping came toward the door. Salissi stepped back and to the side, and it was a good thing she did. The door burst open as if a (probably goblin-made) bomb had gone off on the other side. In the doorway was a hulking orcish form, far larger than that idiot Kurdok had been. He was clothed in ornate robes of grey and maroon and black; the gloves on his meaty hands appeared to be made of gold. Curved, multi pronged spikes jutted out from his heavy shoulderguards. A heavy green gem was inset into his belt, which glowed softly. It matched his staff; the thing was taller than Salissi was, and probably heavier, too. It looked to be made of steel; on the bottom, what looked like a rotating saw blade sat idle; the head was bigger than the orc's, also glowing an electric green, with strange electrodes dotting the sphere, and four curved iron spikes jutting out from the four cardinal directions.
The orc's hood matched his robe, but there was something unusual about it: there were round blue lenses set into it, covering his eyes, soft blue light pouring out. His face was older and wrinkled, but there was nothing weak about what she could see. His heavy teeth were set in a grimace of anger, and she could see that one of his tusks was chipped and cracked. A long tuft of ragged beard protruded from his chin.
"Idiot," he growled in orcish, storming past Salissi without sparing her so much as a glance. From behind him was a growl, and a huge red and black creature, almost doglike, with a skull for a face, followed on all fours. A felhunter. Warlock, she thought. What's an Orc warlock doing in Brill? Making trouble, at that.
She watched him go, the crowds giving him and his demon a wide berth, as he strode toward the tavern, just a few doors down. He walked with a slight limp, though it wasn't pronounced enough that he needed to use his staff to help him stay upright. It seemed like it would be useless for that task anyway, though, with that weird blade on the bottom.
Interesting.
She filed him away for future reference, and entered the town hall.
The man they called Dust was a smarmy bastard, and it was just about all Salissi could do to not hit him in the face.
She'd like to see him make that stupid smug face of his without a jaw.
The man leaned back behind his desk, fingers clasped in front of him, smiling disdainfully. He was especially rotten - in more ways than one - and his hair was a frizzy ring around the sides of his head. He would have benefitted greatly from a hat, she thought grouchily. No wonder that Orc was so pissed off. I should go buy him a drink. One side of his mouth was quirked up in a disdainful smile.
Apparently, he didn't think much of Deathstalkers.
Still, she just stood ramrod straight in front of him, arms behind her back. Mostly to keep herself from reaching for a dagger.
"Yes, I remember the caravan you're talking about," he said smoothly. He even sounded like a politician. "I should have the manifest somewhere, here…"
He opened a drawer on the desk and took his time rummaging through it, clearly taking sadistic glee in making such an important person as her wait.
She tapped her foot impatiently.
He ignored her. After what seemed like forever, he pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "Peacebloom, silverleaf, copper…." He tapped the paper with a bony finger. "Ah… earthroot. This must be what you were looking for." His voice dripped so much sarcasm that Salissi thought she might drown, and she didn't even need to breathe. "The case of the missing earthroot?"
Salissi sighed quietly. "It's not earthroot and you know it. This is above your pay grade, Dust."
Mock horror dawned on the supply master's face. "There is no such thing, my dear. I know everything that goes on in my caravans." He spread his arms expectantly. "They are my life's work, you see, and I do my best to take care of them." He held up a finger, and shook his head sadly. "Except, it seems, that isn't as true as I thought."
"The Dark Lady doesn't tell anybody everything, Dust."
He smiled graciously. "Please, call me Supply Master."
"No."
Dust shrugged. "As you wish, my dear. What I'm trying to say is that I will not have such apparently vital and dangerous things shipped in my caravans without my knowledge."
Salissi grit her teeth, stiffening. "I didn't make the call. I didn't know about it myself until the Dark Lady informed me herself. You know you're just blaming the messenger."
"I'm not blaming anyone. I just want to know what's going on under my nose."
Salissi huffed out a breath. "It's. Classified."
Dust looked at her sadly. "Then I suppose we have nothing to discuss."
Salissi wanted to shriek. Bureaucrats. " Okay, okay, look. I swear, by the power and honor bestowed upon me by the Dark Lady, that once this theft is resolved, you'll be the first to know what was stolen and who was responsible." She clenched her fists behind her back. "And if you knew me, you'd know how much that oath means to me."
Dust rubbed his hands together softly. "Hmm…" He leaned forward. "Alright." Again, he raised a finger. "On one condition."
Salissi desperately supressed the urge to rub at her face. "Just tell me what it is you want."
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, if you are truly so close to Sylvanas herself, then… well, our budget here in Brill isn't what it once was…" He trailed off, eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sure you understand what I mean."
"Light blind me, you want a bribe?"
Dust pressed a hand to his chest in shock. "A bribe?! Heavens, no! It is simply a small request for my town's benefit, as there is oh so much to be done and oh so little gold to go around…"
Salissi sighed again. "Alright, you'll get your message. I can't promise anything more than that the Dark Lady will see it, but you'll get it." She stood up a little straighter. "Now, tell me what you can about those barrels."
Dust shrugged. "Heavy. Nondescript. I received a note and a hefty sum from an apothecary in the Undercity. I did as ordered and included them in the shipment, but I assure you, when the barrels left Brill, the seals were uncracked. No one knew what was inside them, not even myself."
Salissi nodded. He wasn't the most trustworthy guy she'd ever met, but you didn't hold down a job like this if you weren't capable of following orders and keeping a secret. "I'll need a list of all the personnel who went with the caravan. Anyone who might have had a chance to handle the barrels at any point. Or even to see them."
Dust nodded, and slowly began to search around the desk again. Salissi groaned, He paused, looked up at her, and smiled. "Patience is a virtue, my dear. I remember that much from my days at the church."
Salissi raised an eyebrow. "You were a part of the church?"
He waved an idle hand. "Before I died, dear, before I died. Ancient history. I'm not any more interested in talking about my past than I'm sure you are in talking about your own."
Salissi nodded. "Fair enough."
He came out with another sheet of parchment, running a finger down it's length with a small nod. "This is it. Everyone who was a part of that particular caravan." He slapped it down on the table, spun it with one hand, and slid it to the edge on her side. "I guarantee that's the complete list."
She stepped forward, finally unclasping her hand. She'd always loved the smell and the feel of new parchment. This wasn't quite new, but it was close enough for government work. She read down the list.
Deathguard Linnea
Deathguard Simmer
Deathguard Lundmark
Deathguard Kel….
And on and on, about fifteen names, until she reached the last item on the list. Inventory: Two abominations, seven pack zombies, six skeletal packhorses.
There was no further information on the group of Deathguards or caravan workers, just names, but it was a place to start. She tapped the first name on the list. "Are all of these people back in Brill?"
Dust nodded, once again reclining in his chair. "Yes, they should be. They were all contracted to a man to be a part of the return trip, with supplies from Silverpine and Hillsbrad."
"And when do they leave?"
He shrugged. "You should have about three days before they start to trickle away on the next set of caravans. Some of the Deathstalkers will still be on duty, but the caravan workers all have the next day or two off."
Salissi nodded, folding the paper into a square small enough to fit in a pocket. "Thank you. You've been… very helpful."
Dust grinned widely. He was missing teeth. "Don't mention it, my dear. Just don't forget the deal we made."
"Trust me. I won't."
The next step of her investigation was clear, but there were two things she wanted to do before beginning the inevitable tidal wave of interviews and interrogations.
First, she wanted to check out the Orc who had been raising such a stir with the Magistrate, earlier. She wasn't positive that he was connected, but he was an outlier, and in her experience, coincidences were far and few between.
Second… She needed a drink like a five silver prostitute needed the Light. Dealing with Dust had not put her in a very good mood.
Those two things could be accomplished at the same place - The Gallow's End Inn.
They hadn't even tried to give it a fitting name. She sort of loved it.
Inside, it both was and wasn't nearly as dead as the name suggested - all but a few of the patrons in the main dining room were Forsaken, but they were as lively as any crowd she'd seen in the Undercity. In one corner, a group of men that looked like they'd been about eighteen when they died swayed drunkenly and belted out an old Lordaeronian drinking song together, in off key, gravelly voices. A troll was snoring gently on another table, and from the wooden rubble and smashed glasses off to the other side, she'd just missed a particularly rowdy bar fight.
The orc stood out like a sore green thumb. He sat at the bar, facing away from her, a huge tankard dripping condensation in from of him, his felstalker sitting patiently and panting at his heels. No one seemed to be willing to sit within three stools of the guy. His hood was down, though she couldn't see his face from the entrance. The back of his head was bald and just as green as the rest of what little she'd seen of him; on top was a messy gray mohawk that was halfway comical. As she approached, he lifted the tankard and slugged back a few heavy gulps, then slammed it down on the bar with a heavy thunk.
"Government, right?" Salissi said lightly with a grin, sliding in beside him and onto a stool. On the opposite side of the demon, of course. She didn't want to get too close to that one.
"Hrm?" The orc grunted, his eyes flicking over to her. They were milky and white; he was blind, then, or the next best thing to it. Might explain the goggles. She'd ask later, maybe, if she were feeling particularly rude.
"I heard you shouting at the Magistrate. What'd you do, eat his dog? That'd be big news in this town, you know, since nobody even knew he had a dog." She winked, then held up a hand to the bartender. He wandered over, rubbing at a (much smaller) mug with a rag. "I'll have what he's having."
The orc raised an eyebrow. He seemed to be sizing her up. Not completely blind, then. "That'll knock you on your ass, skullface. You're pint-sized."
Salissi grinned. "First of all, that sounds like a challenge. Second of all, I can hold my alcohol very well. Third of all…" She rapped the steel of her jaw with her knuckles. It made a hollow tap tap tap sound. "This isn't skull, it's steel. Much better."
He grunted again. "You're a talkative one."
"So are you, if what I overheard was any indication."
The bartender slid a foamy tankard, just as large as the orc's, in front of her, and she flipped him a coin with a wink. He caught it, and in the time it took her to blink, it was gone. He was efficient. Not particularly friendly, she supposed, but efficient.
The orc gulped ale again. "And what did you overhear?"
Salissi lifted the tankard - it was almost as big as her head - and took a long pull. The flavor was unfamiliar, but bold, and bitter as the day was long. Nothing like they served in most places she'd been to in the undercity. An orcish brew, perhaps? "Enough."
"So what do you want?"
"I want to know what you found." She drew her finger through the ring of moisture left over from where the tankard had originally sat, watching him out of the corner of her golden eyes. "It must have been something big to get that worked up."
"Doesn't matter. People hear what they want to hear. Place could be burning, and people like that Magistrate would still insist that everything was normal."
"And let me guess: at the rate they're going, soon they will be?"
The orc reached idly down to scratch the felstalker's head. Like a dog, it leaned into the touch. He didn't answer.
Salissi took another drink, wiped her mouth, then offered her hand. "I'm Salissi."
The orc didn't even look at her hand. "Korlon."
Salissi rolled her eyes, then pulled out one of her daggers. That got the orc's attention, but he seemed more vaguely curious than worried about it. She flipped it around to show him the insignia on the hilt. "Do you know what this means?"
He blinked slowly. "You're a deathstalker."
She nodded proudly. "Have been for years. See, I'm proud to be Forsaken. I love the Dark Lady. If you know about something that's threatening her or her subjects, I would love to know." She was on a mission already, so she couldn't just drop everything and go follow other leads, but her word carried enough weight that she was sure she could get an investigation going if she thought the situation called for it.
Korlon seemed to consider this for a long moment. He rubbed at his scraggly beard with a meaty, green hand. "You know what I am." This wasn't a question.
"A warlock?"
He nodded. "I was in this town on business. A favor for an old friend of mine. You don't need to know the specifics. Why I was here in the first place doesn't matter."
Salissi wasn't quite sure that was true, but she nodded anyway.
"I knew something was wrong from the moment I got here. And before you get all touchy, no, I don't mean all you undead. I know your smell and I'm used to it."
Salissi frowned.
The orc didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn't care. "There was a familiar air, here. One every warlock learns in his first days of apprenticeship, if he wants to survive. I was here for three days, and every day that feeling in the back of my mind got worse and worse. Xel here could smell something, too. Every so often, we'd pass a spot, and he'd just go crazy. So finally, I investigated. The room next to mine in this inn was one of those... " He grimaced. "Hotspots. So I gathered some materials. Forced the door. Performed a ritual to capture images of the past. Find the residue."
Salissi leaned in. This was something more than she had expected. "What did you find?"
Korlon drained his mug, then slammed it down onto the bar. The bartender gave him a dirty look, but hobbled over to refill it. "This wasn't the first ritual that had been performed in this town in the last week."
"Another ritual?"
Korlon eyed her, his gnarled face grim. "Blood sacrifice."
Salissi's eyes widened.
His eyes were distant. "The whole room lit up, the way that only blood does when it's been used as a magical reagent. It covered the room. I could make out runes on the walls, in the bloody residue." He sniffed the air, as if the coppery scent of blood lingered, even here. "More blood on the floor in the corner, from a second person. Like they used one for the ritual, and made one watch. Fear has a power of it's own, you know." He went silent for a moment. "There were the remains of a circle on the ground."
"What kind of circle?" Salissi could feel her stomach sinking. She thought she knew the answer even before he told her.
"A summoning circle. A powerful one. And it was active. Something came through, in the last two or three days."
Before Salissi could properly digest this, the felstalker - Xel - growled. It was a rumbling, basso sound, one that she could feel deep in her own chest, rattling the mugs on the bar. While they'd been talking, the bartender had disappeared.
Korlon slowly reached back and drew up his hood. The goggles settled over his eyes, and with a click, they locked into place. As they did, soft blue light began to emanate from the opaque glass. Slowly, silently, he reached to his side, where the strange, mechanical staff leaned against the bar. It flared into ghoulish green light.
Salissi didn't need to be told that something was wrong. The felstalker's growl had been the first clue, but something else was even more telling: the tavern had gone completely silent. She touched her daggers, ready to draw them in a heartbeat.
In the dead silence of the common room, dozens of shuffling steps filled the room, along with the sharp thud thud thud of one single pair of heavy boots.
The orc exhaled slowly, then tilted his head back in a questioning gesture.
Salissi knocked back the rest of her ale, wiped her heavy jaw, and nodded.
A smug voice purred, "The bitch queen's pet, and a washed up old war hero." A quiet laugh filled the silence. "The Legion has no need for people like you." Metal on leather - the unmistakable whisper of a sword being drawn. "Tear them apart."
And the room exploded into action.
Next chapter: Bonding!
Chapter title: River of Dreams by Billy Joel.
Anything you have to say about what I've written, I'd love to know. 3