Chapter 10
The dark leathery hands were gripping Vaedra's shoulder, a single eye peered down at her curiously. Kicking out with all her strength at the creature's abdomen it flew backwards to the other side of her cell, colliding with the stone wall. It made a horrible muffled sound as it was abruptly struck and flung away.
"Mmmmphhhrr!"
Reaching for her dagger, the rogue prepared to pounce on the invading geist and stick it to the wall, though she hesitated a moment as it began making hurried gestures amidst it's mumbling.
"Mmmrrph... wait..."
"What do you want?" She hissed at the pitiful thing, this particular undead was quite frail.
"The master...mmph, wishes to speak with you." The geist finally managed to wheeze out.
Vaedra crouched low in anticipation, "Then why did he not simply contact me himself?" She threw at it warily.
"The mmrr... master did not wish to disturb your rest, he ordered me to send you to him."
Like hell he didn't... she hoped he was listening.
"Oh, of course..." she agreed, remembering her dream.
Her body was still slightly shaky from the sudden intrusion and particularly disturbing nightmare. Lowering her dagger she stood up straight, the geist blinked at her.
"You can go now..."
It blinked again, "Mmmrr, the master wished me to bring you to him."
She sighed, exasperated. She supposed it didn't really matter if the thing watched her change, it's not like it would care, but that one eye peering at her constantly was mildly unnerving...
Gathering her armor and equipment she hastily geared up, the geist's gaze never leaving her; she nodded to it. It scampered away on all fours, the rogue walking quickly behind to keep up.
Moving silently behind her undead escort, Vaedra regarded her surroundings. The inside of the Icecrown Citadel was just as cold and barren as the rest of it, including its esteemed master... There were no fires, no artwork, no adornments of any kind. Stone and metal were the only sight at every turn, but she supposed that's all it really needed. Any scourge they encountered along the way would amble along, oblivious to everything save whatever task it had been ordered with, the sound of their trudging bodies scraping across the hard ground seemed to come from everywhere. It would not be difficult to become lost in the place.
They climbed upward, seemingly up and out of the glacier for what seemed like eternity. She sighed at the tiresome and completely unnecessary journey, did he want her to see his 'charming' abode or did he just enjoy having her perform meaningless tasks?
At last they stopped, a section of wall sliding aside admitting her exit into the harsh winter winds. Stepping into the bitter cold, she observed the Lich King, looking out into the distant ramparts that lined Icecrown. Dark clouds were a permanent fixture in the sky here, echoing the storm that raged on the lands below. His cloak fluttered in the wind, sword pressed into the ground between his hands; he completed the morose picture nicely.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" He rumbled suddenly.
Not sure what he was referring to exactly, Vaedra's eyes traveled across the landscape. The unforgiving black spires of his domain were present on every dark structure, imitating the same spikes that adorned his evil helm. Scores of undead patrolled the ramparts, tirelessly working, or unendingly standing until they were needed for combat or some other purpose. Any visible snow was dirty and gray, the air itself tainted with smoke from siege weaponry and carrying the moans of tormented across the land. It would be difficult to imagine the region as it was before being ravaged by the scourge, so ingrained into the essence of it they were.
The rogue stepped up alongside the Lich King, her gaze sweeping downward. "It is certainly... awe-inspiring."
He chuckled at her carefully chosen words.
"I trust you slept well..." he asked abruptly, the tone mocking.
"Always." She coolly answered back.
Her intentional lies were like vicious little slaps, she knew he could sense them yet she made them all the same.
"They are perfect..." she remarked suddenly, eyes still fixed on the sight below; this time a fully truthful statement.
The Lich King regarded her, "You think so, do you?"
"Yes," she explained, looking out at the hideous giants sewn together from corpses of all kinds. "They require no sleep, food, shelter... they have no fear, they care not if they lose soldiers in battle, their morale will not break if the odds are overwhelming against them. They require no rallying or leadership, you simply give them their objective and they do it. And when your enemies fall... they rise again, only this time to serve you as well." She shook her head, scowling. "It disgusts me to admit it, but it is perfect."
"Indeed..." he smirked, mildly surprised at her admission. She could be cold and calculating, perhaps it was not so far-fetched to believe that she could see the beauty of his army...
The pair stood in silence a moment.
"The time is upon us to strike out at the heart of the 7th Legion, they've continued on unmolested long enough. Wyrmbane's endeavors grow tiresome, and Naxxaramas' defenses are failing. They must break, instill doubt into their soldiers and eliminate their commander... I will take care of the rest." He spoke evenly, eyes never leaving the scene before him.
"That is a bold move..." she contributed, hoping for more details.
He sneered, "Are you going to declare that this is an impossible task also?" Head turning slightly to bore into the rogue next to him.
"No, it's quite possible. It will be difficult, but definitely possible." She continued, outwardly unbothered by his stinging remark. "However I'm afraid I'm in no shape to do so at the moment... Master," she tagged on the title almost as an afterthought. She would need to be in top condition, and her ankle was still ailing from her earlier fall.
He considered her statement a moment. "You have a fortnight, not a day more."
Vaedra raised a brow and looked up. "That seems awfully generous..."
"Not a day more." He reiterated, offering nothing beyond that.
She shrugged and nodded, she could ponder all day his intentions for allowing her the extra time.
The quiet that ensued was suffocating. Her feet itched to be away from his presence, the memory of his interrogation still fresh in her mind, but from that same night had come many questions that she couldn't help but wonder the answers to...
"Ask your questions." His voice carried a hint of amusement.
Slightly shocked at his interjection, "Are you certain, Master?" She asked cautiously.
He chuckled, "Speak... it would not be in my interest to have you nursing more wounds before you've completed your task, now would it?"
While his logic was not lost on her she was wary nonetheless.
"Arthas..." she began, making his head snap to the side, eyes blazing at her through the wicked, metal helm, "... never actually died, did he?"
His stance relaxed. After a moment, "I suppose you're not looking for the metaphorical answer."
Vaedra shrugged, content with any answer at all.
The Lich King sighed visibly, and began to speak.
"Ner'zhul's spirit was encased in this armor, able to communicate telepathically with various beings, but not able to move. When Arthas pierced the Frozen Throne with Frostmourne and donned the armor, his consciousness and Ner'zhul's were fused, their memories and thoughts in tact. They were combined and absorbed into what you see here, one entity."
"So parts of Arthas' personality remain..." she ventured.
"Of course, it must," he continued. "Arthas' form became the embodiment of what I am now, allowing me mobility where I had none before. Both his body and mind are in tact, though to say that the man himself were still alive..."
Vaedra nodded, surprised when he continued.
"This body is filled with dark energy, a manifestation of my will to make it unimaginably strong and resilient. It cannot be allowed to wither and rot away, lest the vessel of my consciousness be lost. The body is mortal, yet immortal. Breathes, but does not breath. Feels... but does not feel. I do not expect you to be capable to fathom all of this, but suffice it to say," he paused, "this form is more than capable of performing the feats of man and much much more..."
The various meanings of his statement were not lost on her. Still refusing to look into the swirling blue depths of his eyes, "And... the heart?" She asked carefully.
"Yes, the heart..." he said achingly slow.
She could feel his gaze, heavy and searing upon her.
"Need you ask?" He sneered at her.
"I've... touched it." Her hand burned at the memory, and she immediately felt herself a fool for making her words sound like they implied more than they did. She'd touched his heart indeed...
"I remember," he hissed. "I assure you, it's safe, away from prying hands..."
Vaedra would have sworn she could no longer feel the chill of the air with the heat of his eyes bearing down on her.
"The boy, the spirit watching over it..."
"Boy?" He asked, truly surprised.
"Yes..." she was puzzled by his reaction. "He said his name was Matthias Lehner, that he'd watched you throw the heart down the pit beneath Icecrown Citadel."
The Lich King mulled this over, considering the implications. He certainly had no knowledge of any such spirit, but the boy's name... Everything the rogue had said was accurate as she remembered it, or at least she believed it to be.
"Is it true?" She dared to ask. "Do you really believe that it's the last remnant--"
He growled suddenly, "Enough! No more questions for now, else I might not be able to maintain to my previous statement of leaving you uninjured..."
The wind howled; Vaedra's eyes were down, biting her lip softly. There was more she still wished to know, but was satisfied in what she'd been able to learn.
"Thank you," she began awkwardly, not sure why she cared. "For answering." And she slipped away, beginning the long trek back to her cell, determined not to deviate from her previous path.
When she was gone, he cackled. Humans, so very predictable...
-
For a week, she merely watched.
Blending in with the other adventurers at Wintergarde Keep was easy enough, she'd been among them herself not too long ago. Her disguise was simple: dirt smudged on her face, hair hanging loose beneath a tarnished metal helm, substituting her traditional leather armor for chain and donning a large axe on her back. The weapon was bulky and clumsy in her hands; she hated it, but it was mostly for show. Not daring to divulge in her normally reserved room at the inn, she was forced into regular accommodations.
Stuffed to the brim with rowdy mercenaries, it reminded her of the evening she'd braved Naxxaramas with Darge and his companions. The weeks that had passed since that night seemed to have stretched and twisted, leaving her sense of time vaguely distorted. Was that her own imagination playing tricks on her or a side effect perhaps of something else...
She loathed the actions she had to perform here, they ultimately led to the cursed conclusion she knew would befall the soldiers and citizens who resided in the Keep, many of which she had rescued and aided personally. The Lich King had instructed her to instill doubt, maybe the fate they would suffer as deserters would be less than whatever doom he intended to spell out upon the denizens? Possibly, but she had little time, unlikely long enough to rouse a significant portion of them to depart.
So, for that first week, she merely watched.
Vaedra watched the High Commander Halford Wyrmbane. She watched his movements, his habits, his whereabouts, his friends. She watched as he rose at the same early hour every morning, a disciplined soldier to the last as he woke with the rest of his men. She watched as he would bark out orders, giving harsh words that ensured no failures be repeated or curt praise where it was due. She even watched one evening where he dared drop the stony exterior to laugh and joke with his fellow men, and though they drank and told heroic stories from battles long past, the nervous buzz of anticipation was ever present. The threat that lurked at their doorstep would never relent, and never needed take morale boosting nights off.
She observed the changing of guards surrounding the keep and the High Commander's room itself, disciplined of course, but she found holes in their schedule that she could exploit later; a few seconds was often all she needed.
As the days of that first week trickled by, she tried desperately not to see the man:the charismatic leader, the brilliant strategist. Though his face almost perpetually concealed beneath a giant horned helm certainly helped, it weakened her heart whenever she heard his passionate battle cries and seeing the hope it stirred within those under his command and those he protected.
On the eighth day, the rogue finally emerged from the shadows, albeit keeping her head low. While no one should suspect her treachery should they recognize her, she preferred to remain under the illusion that she had perished in the nearby citadel.
Looking specifically for younger recruits she began doing odd jobs, retrieving supplies and such, sparking conversation so she could play on their doubts of ever leaving the wretched frozen wasteland of Northrend that had crept into their bodies. Wintergarde was holding for the time being, certainly better since the lich within their own catacombs had been dispatched, but it still fell under constant bombardment. Chipping little by little at their defenses, the undead number only rose, and Legion soldiers that fell simply strengthened it more.
"So how long have you been stationed here?"
"Ten months now," the soldier looked grim.
"I bet it seems like longer..."
"Oh, it has." He managed a small chuckle.
"I'm sure your family misses you."
"I think about them every moment I have, they're what give me the strength to keep fighting, hoping I'll soon get to leave this hellhole and get back to them."
"Everyone here fights so valiantly, but I hear the walls shake and feel the chill in my bones, I fear soon the undead will break through... dying out here is definitely not how I'd prefer to go that's for sure."
He shuddered, "Aye, friend. Nor I."
"The High Commander seems a good man, trying to keep everyone in good spirits, but no number of well-spoken speeches and heated cries of glory can hide the truth of a losing battle..."
The man nodded solemnly, weighted down by the words.
On the ninth day, she went into his room, just to make sure that she could. It was the only real opportune space for an outright assassination.
The room was large, given to the High Commander for his station though it appeared he hardly used it or appreciated the gesture for it was sparsely furnished. A massive oak desk occupied the center, armor and weapons lie haphazardly against the walls. Behind the desk two wooden stairs lined the length of the room, leading up to his bed and wardrobe, slightly sectioning off the bedroom area from the rest of the space. Peering around Vaedra knew she'd have to come back once more to secure a hiding place, she couldn't very well hide in the man's closet.
The tenth day continued on much like before, taking careful observation of the guard patrols, assisting townsfolk with chores, earning extra silver from the lower ranking soldiers...
Vaedra sat outside behind the inn, taking a brief rest and eating some of the Legion's standard dry rations when a masculine voice greeted her.
"Heya there, girly."
Looking up to the form with the weathered voice she took an immediate disliking to the man. Everything about him seemed rough, evidence of a life lived hard. Stubble prickled against his tanned, swarthy skin topped by tousled brown hair, square jaw was clenched grinning down at her. It may have been the angle in which she looked up at him was his eyes were so brown they appeared almost black. He was clad in studded leather armor, looking as worn as he did and had a large sword strapped to his back. She supposed he might be attractive in a rugged sort of way, but the swagger in his step, superiority in the way he'd addressed her and hard stare of his dark eyes had her wary instantly.
Turning away from him she went back to her food. "I prefer to eat alone."
He laughed, a gravelly sound.
"I don't want to bother you girly, but I couldn't help but notice, that axe of yours is awfully large. You think you can handle something that big? Wouldn't want a little thing like you getting hurt."
Behind him she heard snickering, two more men leaning against the inner stone wall of the Keep's defenses, likely the rough man's entourage...
"I can handle it just fine." She cursed silently at having her helm off for her meal, she had sought privacy behind the inn for a reason.
"What's your name, girly?"
She wanted to deck the pompous ass but knew she couldn't start a commotion, she didn't need anyone recognizing her, which would complicate matters greatly...
"Why I should tell you?"
"Aww, don't be like that girly. I'll play nice I promise. I just haven't seen you around here before, and I think I know all the ladies rather well," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"I'm here for the same reason all these other adventurers are here, to make some coin."
He laughed, "Course you are." Sitting down next to her he extended his hand. "I'm Marcus, Marcus Rose."
Vaedra snorted at the name, he probably believed women thought it charming. Hesitantly she took his hand, hoping he'd leave afterwards. "Sylvia." She replied.
"Pleasure, Sylvia." He held onto her hand longer than was necessary.
When she went to pull away he grabbed her suddenly and pulled her into his lap. "Now Sylvia, let's say we see what you got under this armor, eh?" Laughter erupted from his throat and from those of his friends.
Her chain-covered fist collided with his jaw while her knee careened into his gut. While Marcus was doubling over Vaedra leapt up and started to flee, but the other two men were upon her before she could even round the inn, each pinning an arm up against the building side wall.
Marcus stumbled over after a moment, "Bitch!" He spat, his hand coming up to strike the grappled woman.
"Hey, what's going on over there?" A 7th Legion sentry rounded the corner heading towards the four huddled figures.
The lackeys loosened their grip on Vaedra immediately upon seeing him, allowing her to shrug out of their grasp.
"You all right miss?" The soldier huffed up to the rogue.
She smiled sweetly at him, "Oh, everything's fine, Marcus and I were just playing a bit rough, weren't we Marcus?" She gripped his chin in what she hoped looked to be an endearing gesture, pressing into his wounded jaw.
He winced, but muttered, "Yes, no problem sir."
The guard looked skeptical. "You all wouldn't want me reporting this to the Captain, would ya?" His disdain for the money-grubbing mercenaries obvious.
"Of course not, sir, there's nothing to report though!" Vaedra stepped up to the soldier and discreetly slipped him some coin, which he readily accepted.
The woman seemed hardly hysterical and the coin she'd provided was ample, he decided to look the other way much to Vaedra's relief.
When the guard had left, Marcus eyed the woman suspiciously. "What was that all about, Sylvia?" Emphasizing the name.
She glared at the man, "It's not your concern, you best stay out of my way lest you find my axe in your back."
Marcus sneered, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. "Are you threatening me, girly? Me and my boys don't take likely to being threatened. And methinks you're much more than a common 'adventurer' as well..."
"Believe what you want," she hissed, retrieving her belongings, setting her helm into place. "Though I wouldn't be taking a piss alone if I were you." She hoped the crudeness of her words would lessen any doubts he might have about her cover. Stalking away she left them, calm enough for the moment, but she feared Marcus wouldn't abate so easily.
On the eleventh day, Vaedra returned to Wyrmbane's room, preparing and securing her hiding spot.
On the twelfth day, she continued her rounds about the Keep, making final preparations for her escape, continuing to chat up the guards and downtrodden their spirits. She felt Marcus' eyes on her more than once, taking in her actions, seeming to wait for any moment she slipped to be alone. She wished she could just kill the man and be rid of him, but there was no time left for that. Causing a panic when the guards found a mutilated body within their own walls would only serve to tighten security and possibly wreck everything she'd worked towards.
She didn't want to underestimate the man, for he could truly turn out to be a thorn in her side, but she prayed that he was one of the unlucky to fall whenever the Lich King decided to strike.
On the night of the thirteenth evening, Vaedra slipped quietly into the High Commander's room, and waited.