Voodoo Child

Chapter 10 – Zuridan Fargaze

By Genoscythe

Xan was mightily pleased with his new hat, and it almost made all the nightmares he had garnered from Ratchet bearable. Every time he passed a fellow soldier, they could do naught but stare in captivation at his red velvet hat. Almost instantly, his luck turned around. His duties to the Horde were many and great, his fame spreading across Kalimdor as the "Red Death".

After an astounding ten-year campaign around Azeroth, Xan returned to the Merchant Coast and took up retirement as a sailor. His ship was made of plundered diamonds, and was crewed entirely by women of all races. All races except dwarves, gnomes, and orcs, of course.

A bump in the road snapped Xan'Jin back to reality. This brought with it the unsettling realization that he had gone blind. The navy blue troll shot up, previously nestled between two beer kegs, and clutched at his face. With a sigh of relief, he pulled away his hat and found that he wasn't, in fact, blind.

Argam Stonehoof, who was pulling the wagon forth with one meaty hand, looked back at him. "Good, you're awake. Can I have a drink?"

"No way, mon," Xan replied, shoving the hat back down onto his head. "You gotta stay sharp." He was actually afraid that the smart Argam would revolt and make Xan pull the wagon, and thus he kept the alcohol safely out of his partner's reach.

"I don't see why we're carrying all this around if I don't get to drink any of it..." Argam muttered.

"You can have plenty when we get in a fight." Xan decided it was safe to say 'when' instead of 'if', knowing their luck. He checked their surroundings, and noted contentedly that they were almost to Durotar. With that, he pulled the hat back over his eyes and slept once more. However, this time his dreams were full of bondage queens, parasitic parrots, and most importantly, that paladin. Wherever that hearthstone had taken him, Xan hoped he was suffering there.

"I...am speechless," Sir Gadwyn said, staring long and hard at the blonde man kneeling before him. "You violated every code in our book, including most of Stormwind's laws. And now, because of a little scuffle with Horde soldiers, you come crawling back to us expecting sympathy?"

"I thought you were speechless..." Marek Belheim grumbled, trying not to speak too loudly.

"And I thought we confiscated your hearthstone!" Gadwyn exclaimed, taking a step closer. "Tell me, Marek. What did you hope to get out of us?"

"Look, I needed a place to hide. How was I supposed to fight off thirty of those scum?"

"You told me twenty last time."

"Hey, you know I get confused sometimes. I forget stuff easily."

"Like how you forgot who the Archbishop's daughter was?"

"That was only once."

"That was three times, and either way I find your story highly suspect. Where did this happen?"

"Northwatch Hold, on the Merchant Coast."

"Coast of what?"

"Kalimdor. Remember, I'm not allowed into Alliance territory?"

Sir Gadwyn laughed mirthlessly. "Kalimdor is a training ground for Horde recruits. Even if there were twenty of them, you could have easily won."

"I panicked. Aren't humans allowed to panic?"

"Men of the Silver Hand aren't," Gadwyn said accusingly. "Oh, but I forgot. You aren't a man of the Silver Hand."

Marek growled. "Just because I can't hide my tracks as well as you can doesn't mean you can talk to me like this. How many times were you with the Archbishop's daughter?"

Sir Gadwyn snorted. "Nonsense."

"What about torturing prisoners of war? I thought that was your specialty."

Gadwyn said nothing, opting instead to take three intimidating steps forward. He was almost at arm's length to Marek.

"Or that Forsaken ambassador, you remember him? You didn't even let him get through the gates."

Gadwyn scoffed now. "You're saying you wouldn't have done any of those things?"

"No," Marek replied with a wicked grin. "I'm just pointing out all the things you've gotten away with, whereas I..."

"Always get caught," Gadwyn finished. "Alright, the penalty for returning to Stormwind after banishment is death, but I'll see if I can bump it down to Double Secret Banishment."

"Thanks, pal."

"I'd just like to know how you're still alive," he scoffed, turning about in oversized plate boots and striding down the hall.

Argam Stonehoof wheezed, yanking the wagon another few feet. Orgrimmar loomed ahead of them, almost tauntingly. Xan was still asleep on the back of the wagon, and had been ever since entering Durotar. This left Argam alone to solve the problem of getting to the Eastern Continent. Overhead, a zeppelin buzzed with the words "To Undercity" emblazoned on its side.

A city under what? Argam thought skeptically, watching the fascinating flying machine dock at a tower, pick up more passengers, and head east across the ocean. Argam couldn't fathom where it was going.

With a few more hard pulls, he was standing inside the entrance tunnel to Orgrimmar. Leaning over the wagon, he gently poked Xan in the ribs. He heard something snap, and winced as Xan woke up screaming. He scratched his head in wonder as the troll clutched his side. He hadn't poked him that hard, had he?

"Drink...it..." Xan choked, tossing a wineskin to Argam. Fumbling with the lid, he took a long swig that drained half the sack. With a flicker of his eyes, he could feel the mana flowing through his body, previously dammed by stupidity. Sighing inwardly, he cast a healing wave over Xan. His partner immediately stopped squirming, and managed to sit back.

"Hey, mon?"

"What is it, Xan?"

"Don' eva touch me again." With a scowl, Xan slid off the side of the wagon. "I got a date wit da rogue trainer. Where you gonna be?"

"I'll be lightening our load," Argam replied, glancing quickly at their stockpile of beer. Xan wondered if the dumb Argam had already taken control again, but he supposed the love of booze was universal. He made off toward the Drag, hoping he could find some direction toward the rogue trainer from there.

After begging several passersby for information, one finally answered him. "Talk to a guard. They have to answer any question you ask," A massive tauren said, before lumbering off on his kodo mount. Xan did just that, and the guard pointed him to an ominous-looking crag in the wall. He stepped toward it tentatively, eyeing the massive dragon ribs draped over the entrance like fangs.

As he crossed into the ethereal darkness, a supernatural gust of wind blew the dirt at his feet. He stumbled, unable to find his way. It was as if someone had blotted out every light on Azeroth. More than once, he began to question what civilized people would be doing in a place like this.

Xan must have turned a corner, for then an eerie blue-flamed torch came into view ahead. It just barely illuminated the wall behind it, on which was clawed the words "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." I'll keep dat in mind... Xan mused, becoming increasingly skeptical of the guard who had given him directions.

He made sure to keep the torch in his sight. As creepy as it was, it was the only source of light in the tunnel. Xan kept going, and with a surge of warmth noticed a glimmering light around the corner ahead. His joy was crushed as something small and rough skittered past his legs. He leapt back, just in time to see the emerald flames of an imp dance through the blackness and down into the crag. Sucking in the scrap of courage that he was proud to own, Xan ran the rest of the way.

He emerged from blackness into a lesser blackness; there was enough light to see by, but there was an inky dark quality hanging in the air that cast everything in a deep purple light. Down a stone ramp, Xan could see a pair of orcs practicing an occult ritual in the dead center of the cavern. All around them, huts adorned with skulls and menacing doodads filled up the empty spaces. Only one building seemed to belong to the rogues, and it was more of an alcove than a real building.

The imp that had startled Xan earlier was now hiding behind an animal bone, staring at the two orcs hungrily. Xan didn't like the look in its eyes, but he quickly told himself not to get involved with warlock affairs and walked past it. Just as quickly, he realized this was a very bad mistake.

A fireball soared just over his shoulder, coming dangerously close to his hat, and seemed intent on hitting the younger of the two orc warlocks. The orc, who held a book in his hand, saw the fireball just before it hit. He threw up the book in defense, and the leather-bound tome erupted into black flames. Xan could swear he saw a pair of ghosts fleeing the burning pages, but Xan swears he can see a lot of things.

The older orc shouted something in a demonic tongue, and thrust out his hand. Xan immediately doubled over, his stomach having transformed into a washing machine for his organs.

"Sorry!" The older orc cried out, shifting his palm so it was now pointed at the imp behind Xan. At another string of utter nonsense, the imp doubled over in much the same way as Xan. Unlike Xan, who was starting to feel marginally better, the imp promptly exploded. Xan crawled toward them, preparing to demand an explanation as soon as his guts became dislodged from his throat.

When the agonizing curse finally subsided, Xan choked out a simple question that he was very good at asking. "What da hell was dat?"

The younger orc stepped forward, now looking strikingly familiar. "I'm sorry, you must have been in the way of-"

"Not dat..." Xan groaned, wobbling to his feet. "Da imp. What'd it attack for?"

The younger orc eyed the older one nervously. "It's a long story..."

"Young Zuridan is having difficulty controlling his minions," the older one put in before the younger could do anything about it. Xan looked back at the smoking pile of imp-bits.

"Dat was your imp?" He asked skeptically.

"In many respects, Zorqua is his own master," the warlock trainer explained. "You see..."

"Teacher!" Zuridan cut in. "I don't need you explaining my problem to every soldier that comes by."

"Patience, Zuridan," the trainer said calmly. "You see, there was a mistake in the pact with the young master's first imp summoning. Zorqua was bound to him, but the pact was never completed. It doesn't have to obey his commands."

Xan eyed the thin orc warily. Saying he was a thin orc did not, by any means, incline that he was simply thin. A thin orc was still three times as thick as a troll. "Wait...so if it don' obey ya, then why's it attacking?"

"When bound, a demon is sealed in a small dimension much like a holding cell. It cannot leave except when summoned by the caster, or..."

"Or what?" Xan asked impatiently.

"Somehow, Zorqua has managed to summon himself on occasion. We were just trying to find out how when you came by."

"That's not the worst of it," Zuridan said, breaking his silence. "My voidwalker's the same way. He's five times stronger, seven times smarter, and four times as determined to be free."

Xan raised an eyebrow. "You actually figured dat out?"

"We were hoping it would help us learn how they keep summoning themselves."

Xan decided that sometimes it was best not to comment.

"The only bright side is that Helmon cannot summon himself unless Zuridan is in possession of a soul shard," the warlock trainer said optimistically, continuing to call the demons by their names. The name Helmon sparked something in Xan's memory, and he soon caught hold of it. "Helmon, deal with her!" were Fizzle Darkstorm's parting words. Xan gulped, realizing that this voidwalker could be more dangerous than he already sounded.

"Could you take Zuridan with you, wherever you may be going?" The teacher suddenly asked, his underlying tone desperate.

"Wha...why?"

"Teacher!" Zuridan snapped.

"There are demonic tomes out there that could help us free these minions. Besides, the world is a dangerous enemy to face alone. We've been searching for a partner to help Zuridan along, but everyone's been too afraid of his 'friends' to risk it." Can' imagine why...

"My skills with black magic notwithstanding," Zuridan put in.

Xan thought for a moment. Argam was a laugh and all, but considering how frequently he fell asleep/unconscious during battle, it could only be a good idea to have an extra soldier to pick up the slack whenever that would inevitably happen. And Xan was always keen on the idea of having someone fight his battles for him.

"I don' see why not, mon."

Zuridan gave him a fang-laced smile. "Zuridan Fargaze. Trust me, I'll make up for all the trouble I'm surely gonna cause."

"Xan'Jin, master..." He trailed off in the middle of his patented introductory phrase, now placing the resemblance. "You're related to Zureetha!" He exclaimed, not sure if he should be overjoyed or terrified. This was the way he had constantly felt when he had been around Zureetha.

"Her brother in name only..." Zuridan muttered. "I trust you had a miserable time with her at the Valley?"

"Wors' time o' my life, mon," Xan said with a smirk. "Lemme check in wit da rogue trainer. You can look for my partner, he's a big, crazy tauren. Likes to talk to himself." At this, Xan gave a mock salute and walked between Zuridan and his teacher, stepping through their summoning circle and leaving two huge footprints in the wet pig's blood.

Xan felt himself subconsciously shrinking back the closer he got to the rogue trainer. He was a squat orc, chewing on a knife as if it were a toothpick. Everything about him looked deadly. Xan could now see that the orc wore two belts, and both had a dagger holstered on each hip. He had no idea what anyone would need five knives for, but he prayed that it had nothing to do with his training.

End of Chapter 10