Chapter 12
Prophet
X Fallen X
It was the end of their second day inside the desert, and already the soaring wall they needed to climb to leave Un'Goro could be seen from the gaps between trees, barely a mile further along. However, painted though it was in the pale white and blue light of Azeroth's two moons, Sin decided to face the climb the next morning, when they were rested, rather than force their way up and risk highwaymen. Bandits and renegade qiraji, hit by highwaymen.
Sin felt the world could spin on without adding such irony.
As the camp was erected, he felt the urge to take one last heavenly bath in Un'Goro's heated springs, and without passing word to anyone but his qiraji, he slipped away. Narelle followed him, as was her way, at least until he began stripping his clothing at the water edge. He could tell she backed off, just this once. Well, her choice then.
Whimsically, he invited Sekara to join him in the water, and she came quickly. Wearing only wispy cloth clothing now, with a vest that could easily slip on and off with her nubs instead of armor, she stripped herself without assistance. As he accepted her lithe body in his arms though, the other qiraji present expressed the desire to bathe near him. Sin raised an eyebrow at Ressact and her vague expression.
Narelle left her Watch on Sin de Rath entirely to return to the camp. He would not part from that staff under any excuse, meaning its influence would at least be kept in check. He was too bluntly honest to try escaping then anyways, with only a few of his qiraji. An odd human.
There, the cultists moved about freely, setting up fires and pots for dinner, drinking water and talking with an excited air about them. That of prisoners freed, in the midst of their grand escape. Narelle was disturbed by the lack of riders swooping through the forest after them. Feathermoon's reinforcements should have arrived days ago.
In her slow walk through the camp, she saw that dwarf again, he whom had overcome her briefly. The man was drinking with companions, but as her eyes passed over him, he looked up and smiled at her, winking once merrily. She kept the digusted look off her face, only moving on, until she found an elevated rock to perch upon.
From the vantage point, she could see out over the camp and observe everyone's activities. She wondered to herself how many would betray them later on, how many she should be ending the lives of now, before they contribute to the evil of later. Justice needed to be met, but Sin de Rath had forbidden her.
She was not bound by his word, but if rumor reached his ears that men or women were missing within in the camp, or if a body was seen, he would come for her, and the dispute would not be simple. Blood would have to be drawn, and confident though she was of herself, she had an unnerving thought that he couldn't be slain as easily as destroying that body. Plus, his death now would not be as just as she'd prefer. Only an ending of a possible threat, and a current ally.
Remembering his staff, she added, If I could win at all, and he does not fall into the grips of that... darkness.
An hour passed without the return of Sin. Narelle began to wonder at his actions, but she recalled him at the qiraji bathing hole, before the spat with the succubus, and felt, with a wave of repulsion, that it was better she did not witness whatever it was his desires sought.
It was around then that she heard the flapping of wings that did not pass easily. Something large then, or something approaching them rather than fleeing. She waited a patient moment longer, listening, and confirmed it was indeed approaching. However, the lack of deep air distortions told her it was no hippogryph. Her head turned as it reached the camp, seeing a desert hawk swooping by.
Silver eyes went wide at the presence of a small scroll strapped to its claw. A courier bird. Bringing her fingers and a string of magic to her mouth, she whistled for it to come. As all creatures did to the call of a sentinel, it turned immediately and approached her gladly. Narelle held out her arm for it to land, comforted by its light presence when it did.
She fingered the rolled paper, seeing it tiny and simple, with a single tag reading "Sin de'Rath." Hmm. She plucked it free from the hawk, whispering softly when it complained at the theft of its charge. It fell complacent again, while she unraveled the message.
Her eyes dragged over each sloppy line, mentally recognizing the careless scrabble of a goblin, even if in the Common language. She paused for a moment, brow furrowing as her gaze narrowed, and she reread the message.
The hawk released a loud shriek as Narelle lunged from her rock onto the forest floor, taking off in a sprint. She whistled again, commanding it to follow in case its services were needed again, clutching the letter in her hand tightly. Cultist and qiraji alike turned to look at her pass, but she ignored them all, breaking past the last tent and into the forest of trees and green growth.
Near the river she came, slowing only when she caught sight of the warlock in question. He was dressed, sitting with legs crossed on a stone beside the bank. His warden-cloak was around him, not mixing the the grass and water as well as it could sand, and he seemed in deep meditation. The qiraji reluctantly parted from her fast charge, though Narelle saw several peel open their scythes as she passed.
"Sin!" she cried, thrusting the letter towards him as he was startled from his trance. Narelle did not know how he would reply to her reading his letter – she hadn't meant for him to know – but she was more worried by his response to the message itself.
The patient, self-controlled human accepted it from her without her urgency, and he opened it to take a quick read.
Sin de'Rath,
Get your ass back here ASAP! Gadgetzan is under attack, and we can't hold at all! Your mom is out there right now trying to fight them back, but she ain't winning, man! There will be money in it if you can get here in time! Profit's speed!
-Don Cudgellax, Head of the Bruisers
The message vanished in a puff of flame. Narelle paused, tension tight in her chest, not knowing if she should be prepared to draw her weapons or not. Sin did not look at her. He glanced at the qiraji, specifically the one he called Sekara, and then stood to his feet, taking his staff from his lap and let its butt touch the stone. When it did, Narelle flinched at the release of black magic, thrumming through the land again in response to its owner's emotions.
From his backpack, he withdrew a white orb, and green light blossomed in his hands.
Narelle stared at him, confused at first, but the blue spiral along the face of the stone caught her attention. It was a hearthstone. Wild, desperate thoughts told her to stick a knife in him, to cut his concentration, but barely, she prevented herself, fists clenching.
"Stay here," he commanded coldly, to all that were present, just before the magic of the stone whisked him away.
The qiraji broke into a loud buzz at his absence, wings blurring loudly. Narelle did not hesitate like they did, was not confused as they were. She began sprinting, into the dark forest, towards the rock wall that led up to Tanaris Desert. He would be going home, to Gadgetzan. She needed to hurry if she were to catch up, hoping he would not slay her when she came if the city had already fallen.
XxX
People still lived in Gadgetzan. Sin could tell from the screaming outside the walls of his home.
The hearthstone took him to his very bedroom, immediately filling him with the scent of deep musk, fresh rugs, an incense candle, and also a heavy cloud of ash that was not from Shed'lahk. His mother's war staff. He had it, not she, and she was the defender here.
With swift steps, he moved out his door, then down log stairs to the bottom floor. Each log was near four inches thick, buried into the sandstone wall, and covered with a rug to keep traction. Sin noticed mug from Un'Goro that clung to his boots was smearing over it; he could only hope his mother could chastise him for it later.
The wood door was already left open, emittting Sin into a city on fire. Goblins ran about, clamoring to find any bruiser that would keep them safe, while the bruisers themselves tried banding together for a form of defense. They did not face any foe though, did not seem to know where to look.
Sin strode forward, deeper into the central of the city, near their caged arena, where he found three gladiators half-garbed with clean blades. At the floor of the cage though was a familiar face, wearing the same black cap that its owner vehemently insisted didn't attract further heat in the desert. Don Cudgellax was dead.
The first of the gladiators noticed him, turning to say something to his companion. She also looked, an orc with more scars than both of her companions, and he recognized her by the long one that stretched from lip to over her left eye. She was missing a tusk on that side.
"Sin!" she roared, true joy shining in her expression. Cupping her hands before her face, she bellowed loudly over the noise of the city, "Sin de Rath is here! Take heart, children of the desert!"
The bruisers looked over, then followed her attention over to Sin himself, already garbed in the cloak they knew well. Quickly, they waved each other forward, scrambling up to him, and the civilians trying to hide behind them followed.
"Sin, man am I glad to see you!" the first one shouted. Sin couldn't recall his name at the moment, but he was one of the Don's boys. "Things were wild here, and we think its still around."
"It?" he demanded, ice still thick in his voice.
"Yeah, weird flying thing with scythe arms," the goblin replied, and the others nodded. "Margaret already blasted two of them to smithereens, but then she just vanished and one of them was still buzzing about."
The qiraji, the Battleguards, immediately appeared in his mind at the description. His teeth grit, though he knew it couldn't have been one of his. "Where was she fighting? Where was the enemy seen last?"
"Down south, near the wall. The bank went up in flames, and then no one could spot her. The creature had just split the water tower on the east end, and we heard some noise from the inn. We got your back though, buddy. Lead on!"
It said something that the innkeeper, cowering a few feet away from the final bruiser, didn't moan over his lost business and money. Only three attackers total, it seemed, yet so much confusion here.
His cloak billowed at the first few steps as Sin rushed towards the south. His first priority was reuniting with his mother, perhaps give up Shed'lahk to her, and then saving the town with her at his side. Or at her side, as it would be.
Indeed the bank was in flames. The special team of vault keepers were dead, the ones that could be seen lying prone on the ground before it, the rest likely turning to cinders inside its bowels. Sin stared into its depths, beginning to wonder if she was in there herself, either burning or in a shell that fire could not penetrate. As he stared though, there was a loud groan, and bunker's room collapse, filling its lower chambers. As it did, a glint of purple launched from the tunnel in a gout of hot smoke.
Sin caught the gem with his tense reflexes, and he looked down to see a purple orb, with its surface smooth but oiled, as if dunked in a jar of grease. It left no residue on his hand, but its feel was unnerving. And familiar, for he had an identical one in his left pocket. A gentle probe touched the orb, and he felt a strong fire within it.
Sin took a slow, patient breath, and exhaled. It was filled. His mother was dead, though not entirely so. He would need to find her corpse, make sure she was clear, before she could release her very soul from its occupancy within the stone and revive herself.
Her soulstone joined his in his pocket, and Sin turned towards the eastern end of the wall, Shed'lahk gripped tightly in his fist. Just then, a creature emerged from the burning skeleton of the inn, rolling over the sand briefly before jumping into the air on insectoid wings. Twin scythes moved eagerly as it searched around.
The creature was not qiraji, Sin was glad to see. Its body was thick, more like a qiraji Gladiator, but hovered on wings different from the fly ones of the Battleguards, and its scythe-arms were only two of many, also not contained within the red-nubbed bones. The antenna-bearing, bug-eyed head turned to the side, and it was clear it was not a helmet. It's carapace was pure black, and a thump of his staff over the sand ripped away the enchantment that tried obscuring its features to him.
Sin's first steps towards it revealed something to him. Those were not its eyes, on the corners of its head. It had two large circles closer to the front, where the orbs should have been, but instead he could see roughly hewed sockets there, with the very backs burned shut over the nerve. Melted shut, he should say, from the bubbled-like flesh there.
Regardless, he was in no mood for the details of this mantis-like foe – it was like a qiraji, aye, and it was like a nerubian, aye, and it was neither, aye – instead he raised his staff, beginning to summon from his vast stores of arcane power, and allowing Shed'lahk to enhance his power with its burning essence.
"My life for the Empress and the Master!" it announced, with a voice that shrieked and clicked like he expected from an insect, much like the nerubians.
Sin replied with magic.
XxX
The inn, along with the greater portion of the eastern wall, was disintegrated. So was the enemy, but the damage done beyond it was far worse than the flames of his mother's making. The goblins did not complain, for once, knowing their lives were more valuable than their possessions – and because who was going to try picking a bone with the guy who destroyed half the city with a single spell? Sin had lost too, they knew.
After it all, Sin staggered back into his house, feeling far too exhausted but still able to keep moving. He knew he would need to learn to portion his strength with Shed'lahk, for it was eager to take it all away at once and try to assume control over him while he was weak. He fell to his knees on one of their colorful cushions, uncaring of the dust still coating his clothing and the sand and mud that further marred up their rugs. The door closed behind him and locked with an unconscious thread of magic.
Shed'lahk was laid across his lap, and then Sin retrieved both soulstones from his pocket. His was vibrating with magical power, ready in case he were to fall in the battle, while his mothers seemed ready to leap out of his hands with all the power it was giving off. Combining magic with the soul was a dangerous, forbidden practice – one mishap could erase ones soul forever, but they had mastered it, disjointed though it might seem.
How could one small orb of magic contain all that was Margaret de Rath?
Sin rolled the two orbs over his palms, struggling to think of his next action. It took him several minutes to even recall the bandits and qiraji he'd left behind in Un'Goro, left with Narelle Blackmoon. He stared into their pristine, opaque purple depths, thinking of his mother, of his future, and a bit of his past. He considered where her corpse might be, unable to find it anywhere in the city, but as he thought, the purple orb that was hers seemed to grow larger and larger in his sight.
There was a faint recollection talking to Sekara as his attention was caught up in the orb, larger still, until he could only see purple in his vision. And then the world collapsed around him.
When Sin opened his eyes, not realizing he had even closed them, he was no longer in his home. Purple mists, laced with veins of black and silver, swirled about him. His brows furrowed, wondering if he was dreaming or the madness had overcome him once again.
He tried to explain this with cold logic. Between the soulstone, his familiarity with the qiraji bond, and the current state of the world, he presumed he was somehow inside his mother's soulstone. But that was impossible! He had been within his own stone before, and the experience was nothing like this.
A warm, rich laughter filled his ears. Sin felt himself relax at the sound, his face relaxing into a more sincere expression, as he looked into the purple mist. "Mother..." he said.
Then she was there, pushing her way through the clouds. She wore robes of blue and teal, its edge going up to her chin, where she had it buckled with a collar. It clung to her frame around the chest, shoulders, arms and waist, but bell ends were stiff and wide for her hands, and past the waist it fell like a comfortable robe, with her black sandaled feet sticking out at the bottom.
She was a beautiful woman, for one so steeped in darkness. Flawless, dark skin the color of almonds, and two eyes that burned with gold as pure as the precious metal, with only thin rings of brown at the edges of her iris. Presently, her wavy, black hair was cut short, only to her shoulders, and it was brushed from her eyes to the left. She was smiling at him, the same he always remembered on her face.
She stopped at two spans before him, and her hands settled on her waist in a painfully familiar stance. "Well, my son, it has been some years, hasn't it? Back from your solitude on the ruins of Draenor? Or did you tour the Twisting Nether? Or did the scars of your past take you to Silithus once again?"
"All three, mother," Sin told her, formal, and added, "Though my tour through the Nether was very short. I do not trust myself not to think away my arms there."
She laughed again, nodding. "You have all the control to be a master there, my son... Even now, where I feel the fog clinging over your brain. Mind fire, yes?"
"And worse. There is much to tell you, mother; much to share. Do we have the time here?"
"There is always time for those who seek it. Come, sit with me, and speak as you did when your years were few and your face bright with curiosity. I see the shadows have come for you so soon. Have you taken up the burden of Shed'lahk already?"
As Sin sat with her, one firm cloud molding like their pillows of home, he grew startled. "You knew that I would? Despite all your warnings?"
Her smile dimmed to a faint shadow of itself. "On the day of your birth, there was a prophesy said of you. A dark prophesy, that spoke of only pain and misfortune, of the darkest deeds, for you and all those near you. I was told to discard you, to take you far away from the Shadow, but I could not – would not – do that to the flesh of my flesh, the sin of my sin. But yes, I knew you would one day take up Shed'lahk."
Blood of my blood. From when Sin had been interested in learning Thalassian but only knew some words. "Sin" meant "blood," something he knew long before "Sin'dorei" was a common term.
"Will I lose the battle against Shed'Beshal?" he asked quietly, falling grim.
His mother embraced him gently, her body warm through her robes, as it always was. "One day, you will see. I will always be proud of you, my son, and you will always carry all of my support. I do not believe you capable of such evil as releasing the prisoner willfully, nor so weak as to do so unwillfully. You will make a fine Keeper."
"You make it sound as though we shall be parting, mother. Tell me where your corpse rests, and I will have you freed to return."
Now, she frowned, a short little pout over her lower lip. "The beasts took my corpse with them. There were five of the enemy, not the three that revealed themselves. I do not know what they plan with it, but I will revive myself anyways and make them rue the day they thought to harm a de'Rath!"
"Who are they? Minions of the new old god?"
Her gold eyes flashed. "I see you already know. From my brief exchange with them, I know they are called mantid, and those I fought called the Paragons. But they are native to Azeroth, corrupted though they may seem, while the old god is not. Indeed though, they serve him willfully. I fear many will serve him in the coming days, whether or not they came as his minions."
"Yes, I feared so... Mother, how did you take me here? Inside your soulstone?"
She winked, a broad smile on her face again. "I was called Grand Warlock once, before settling in Tanaris. But for all the tricks I know, the intricacies of my weaves, and my textbook control, I do not have the years of thick combat experience that you do. I was not there at the fall of the Betrayer, in the tunnels of C'Thun's lair, nor was it my fist that beat back the Deceiver as he crawled into Azeroth at the Sunwell. I have toured the Nether enough to call it home, but you know more of demonology and the fel arcane than I... If it had not been so, I might never have needed to summon Shed'Beshal when I faced the nameless evil."
Sin did not know how to respond to the off-hand compliment of his ability, when she had always seemed leagues beyond him. Perhaps she was humbly downplaying her own skill, but it still sent the heat of a blush up to his ears.
"Now, enough of that. Tell me of your travels. I will hear all about it before the burden of tearing myself from the mantids' grasps."
Images passed through Sin's mind. He knew what she would face then. She would revive herself, still bloodied and wearied from her death, already in the grasps of her foe, likely sealing her soul away in another soulstone, and summon all the hell and thunder she could before they slew her again... and the process would repeat until they were dead. Then she would begin the trek back home, without supplies or shelter.
If Sekara had betrayed him in the Ahn'Qiraj Temple, he would have had to do the same, woeful though it was. One death was harsh enough on the soul.
"In my run through Silithus, a qiraji met me. Friendly, in a state of urgency... She asked for my help. And I gave it." So he began, recounting for her all that happened since he first entered the desert of his death. She listened to his every word, from the chewing madness to the arguments with Narelle over what was to be done with the bandits. As mothers did, she listened to her son talk, never growing impatient, always supportive, until it was all out.
She was still smiling by the end, with a certain twinkle in her eyes. "So my son has become a lord in my absence, I take it. I see this Sekara truly has taken your eye. I would like to meet this woman you fancy, no matter her race, in a soon coming day."
"I would have it so, mother, if... not for the state of things now. If these mantid have come here, then the old god's long arm has reached even the very bottom of the world now. The Battleguards will not be safe here, worst still if isolated and left vulnerable. I must take the fight to this old god myself, and gather around me whatever allies I can."
The glow of her face was absolutely brilliant, like a being of Light had infiltrated her soul. Pride was like a physical expression on her face, though Sin could not see why. His choices had not all been so great, and his own state in life not as it could be. He was only human, nothing to be proud of.
"Yes, my son," she said finally. The warmth was strong in her voice. "You have long since taken flight of your nest and become your own man. I do not fear for your future at all. The Nameless One holds not a candle to the brightness that is you. If my fight falls sour, then I can die knowing my purpose has been accomplished."
"Mother?" Sin asked, hesitant.
The smile was fixed on her face. "You are curious, my son, but you have no reason to fear. Think now of the terrible darkness that our paths have taken us. Think of the Shadow we use, antithesis of the Light we follow, and think of the corruptive fel we so quickly subject ourselves to. Think of the arrogance of a warlock, a master of beings and the psychological sway there, and think of Shed'lahk, with all of its powerful whispers and powers. And realize the kind of man you are despite this. Your father would be so proud."
Sin's brow was furrowed, too uncertain to even blush now, and he watched her shake with her rich laughter once again. She stood to her feet in a graceful motion, more fluid than even the night elf Narelle could manage. She gave him a small bow, which he quickly rose to return.
"Farewell, my son. Your future is bright, but if you ever need advice, or an ear to listen, you know where home is."
"Wait!" he cried, and she did. "Before you go, tell me if there is more to Shed'Beshal and its prisoner than you have told me through the stories."
Even that subject was not enough to dim her smile. "A fair question. It is my own theory that what the old gods are to the Great Dark Beyond, the nameless one is to the Twisting Nether."
It took Sin several moments to realize the full significance of that statement. Then his brow went high and his eyes were like saucers. "But it has no name!"
A crafty wink. "So give it one. You are its Keeper."
...Sweet merciful fuck of the Light and Shadow. The implications!
The world rushed around them. Sin was torn back, away from his mother, and when the purple filled his vision once again, he found himself falling back, away from the soulstone in his hand. His back hit the pillow. A second later, he felt the burning fire within her soulstone wink out, and the gem splintered into purple shards before crumbling into dust.
He was back in his home now, staring first at his sandstone ceiling, then looking down at the pile of lavender dust in his hand. He whispered a short prayer to the Light for her. Margaret de Rath's fight had truly begun.
XxX
Narelle saw smoke rising from Gadgetzan. The sandy city still stood, but clearly there had been great fires within at whatever conflict had raged. It must have only recently ended, or recently been controlled, as she had been running without stopping for six hours now.
There were no guards stationed outside the walls. That was worrisome, but she supposed there were more pressing matters for the goblin people within. Not for the first time as she ran, Narelle wished she had mastered enough druid arts to transform her body into that of a large cat or bird for travel. It would have saved her much time. More importantly, it would have saved her energy, which she might need if conflict arose between her and Sin de Rath.
Running up the great ramp from Un'Goro's floor up thousands of feet vertical to the Tanaris Desert had taken the steepest toll on her body, no matter how conditioned she was. The fifty miles from the exit to Gadgetzan had been her recovery, if it were to have a label. She knew sand running well, at least, empowered further by the Aspect of the Cheetah that her sentinel training had taught her. But even cheetahs had limits.
She slowed to a brisk walk upon entering the massive iron-toothed gates. With her blood pumping that hard, she knew she'd fall unconscious if she stopped moving entirely. Her entrance called attention to her from the many scurrying Gadgetzan inhabitants. Having ran through the night, the sun was peaking over the eastern buildings, and the shadowmelding illusion of her race had fallen away to reveal her clearly to them as night elf.
And after a time of attack and crisis, outsiders were the last thing these people wished to deal with. Already, bruisers were marching towards her, cudgels in hand. She quickly fought to recover enough breath to speak clearly in the rough Common tongue.
"Listen, lady," the lead bruiser started, squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin.
"I need to speak to Sin de Rath!" she declared, falling into breathless panting once again. If this was his home town, as he said and his files agreed, then that should be enough.
Indeed it was, and the goblins stopped, growing wary but hesitant. They looked amongst themselves, and the leading one turned back to her. "Yeah, and what are you, his lover?" He gave a deliberate look at her body through her dirtied cloak, though his whistle seemed more at the dozens of blades strapped there than the peaks of skin he could see behind them.
Narelle did not have time for this. So she nodded.
This time, the whole lot of them whistled, seeming impressed. She resisted rolling her eyes. Again it was the front one that spoke: "Well, I'll let him sort you out then, lady. Follow me. You lot, get back to work!"
The man moved back, eastern along the wall she had just entered. Many of the houses there were still untouched. Looking northeast from there, Narelle could see the true damage to the city. She stared at the huge expanse of black soil and completely obliterated area that took out all of the eastern end of the city.
"Yeah, your boyfriend did that," the goblin growled. "Guy has some anger issues you really need to sort out." Narelle suddenly wasn't so sure she could beat him even rested, staring out at the devastation. "Come a long ways?"
Still panting, she managed two nods. He grunted, muttering, "Elves..."
The bruiser stopped at a squat building, made of sandstone with wooden support. He knocked on the door, shouting, "Yo, Sin! Got your lady out here sweatin' like a dog!"
Narelle did not stop as he did, pacing back and forth to keep her legs moving and the blood flowing, but the comment made her look down. Indeed her skin showed a heavy sheen of sweat. It reminded her she needed to drink, already dehydrated, and so she pulled a skin from her belt.
She stared at the house though, memorizing it as the one that belonged to her prey. More than ever, she was certain she could only dispose of Sin if he fell through ambush and assassination. It was a modest two story building. It could easily support a family of three with size, and it would not seem full of a vast emptiness if only one lived there. It made her think of home, with family, before she could shake the thoughts away.
No one answered the door though, so the goblin beat at it again, repeating, "Yo! Sin!" After another moment, he growled and opened the door himself, turning to say, "Wait here, Mistress de'Rath." He snorted at the name, disappearing inside the depths.
The reminder of her alibi, with thoughts of family and home, did not sit with well with her.
Less than a minute later, the goblin returned, shutting the door behind her. He had a puzzled look on his face. "He ain't in there. Look, I know you care about em, but your guy just lost his mother-" Narelle froze in place, her heart suddenly racing. "-so you're free to look for em, but just go easy, alright? He might need some time alone."
Sin, whose mind was already a battlefield of its own, had lost his mother, family, whom he clearly cared about dearly. She looked to the north, towards the empty devastation. Sin had done that in anger, the bruiser had told her. What was he going to do to her when he noticed his warden had come for him?
She had to take the chance. Azeroth itself would be in further danger if he fell and she failed her duties now.
A wave of blackness rushed into her mind then, and quickly Narelle began to pace again, remembering to breath. The bruiser said, "You can go on inside. I'll send him over if I see him." Without further argument, she did, hoping that Sin would not have her detained the moment he heard she was here. She did not want to have to force her hand against the men of law here.
The bruiser moved on back into the Gadgetzan, snapping orders as he did. With the death of Don, someone needed to fill the shoes of the head man, and he stepped up to the task. Not because of any ambitions – ambitions for the head of the bruisers got a man killed; just ask Don Cudgellax – but because he'd been on the force for enough years to know what to do. People deferred to him now.
Half an hour later, he still saw no sign of Sin. That worried him. The de'Rath's were the real muscle of their city, when it came to magical power, and both were close confidants of the bruisers. He did not want both missing if another one of those creatures came on by.
He dropped by the house again, letting himself in. Old instincts told him he wasn't alone, that a predator was watching him the moment he entered, and it took him a moment to perceive the shape molded into the shadows of a distant corner. Rogues certainly couldn't sneak by a bruiser well; night elves were no exception to that rule.
"Yo, lady de'Rath, you seen Sin yet?"
"I have not," her cool voice returned, and she leaned forward enough for a strand of light to fall across her face and reveal herself to him. Unnerving, those elves were. What Sin saw in her, when he could have himself a big booty goblin, with a crafty, backstabbing mind, was beyond him. Now those were women a man could trust.
As he opened his mouth again, he felt a thrum of magic rip through the air between them, and he raised his mace quickly, thinking her attacking him. Instead, there was a glow of green, spiraling through the air, and a portal opened up. Not like any mage portal that he'd seen, that was for sure, but a second later, a familiar face stepped out of it, letting the portal vanish with a pop behind him.
"Fuck, Sin," he complained, lowering his cudgel. "You nearly scared the profits out of me."
The warlock looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he gave a short bow of acknowledgment. "Forgive me," Sin started, "but why are you within my home?" A deadly pause. "Did they come back?"
"No, no!" he returned quickly. He gestured his weapon. "Your lover came trompin' on in. I was just bringing her over to you, let you deal with her."
"My lover?" Sin asked, amused, as he turned as directed. The night elf had retreated deeper into the shadows, completely hidden, but a second later Sin exclaimed, "Ah! There you are... darling. Why do you hide? The city is safe, as Gadgetzan can get, once again."
A second later, the night elf peeled herself from the place, her face completely devoid of emotion. Really, what did Sin see in a woman like her! Not even a lick of emotion, be it satisfaction or hate. Disgusting, in a relationship. But who was he to judge? "Alright," he told the couple. "I'm going on out again before you get all smoochy on me. Stay close if you can, Sin."
He left.
"Yes, wouldn't want him to see us get all smoochy," Sin repeated, amusement threading his voice. "So... darling."
"Repeat it again and I'll take your tongue." Narelle did not blush; she only got angry.
Sin's hands went up amiably. "Really, that is the best you could manage to garner their trust?"
"Their opinion is of no concern to me, and it was the easiest way," she declared. "Where were you?"
"That, like a great deal of things happening, is none of your business," Sin returned.
"That was a portal to the Twisting Nether."
"Then why ask where I went?"
She glowered at him. He wasn't in the mood to smirk, so he held out his hand to her. "Come along now. We'll keep up your illusion as far as the city wall, but we must hurry."
She hesitated. "Is it true what they said? About your mother?"
His lip turned up, as if he were amused, but it was a pained expression. "You cannot kill a true warlock so easily." That was all he said on it.
She took his hand, allowing him to pull her to his hip, and together they left the house. He locked the door with a spell, then moved into the city, letting them be seen together. Narelle was tense, unfamiliar with walking at someone's side. She said nothing.
Then Sin stopped, and around him erupted a purple shell of demonic summoning arts. His cursed staff was in his left hand, her at his right, but it was not tied to the spell he now worked. A few seconds later, his steed of flame, muscle, and bent steel galloped from the ground in a burst of flame and molten rock. He released her to take a step into the stirrup, then mounted it and offered his hand again.
She ignored it and made it up in a single leap, slipping behind him. "What is your plan?"
Sin took up the reigns, lashing them to the roar of his dreadsteed. "We are going to Northrend. We will be taking the fight to the old god."
Narelle's eyes widened, even as her hands clung to Sin to prevent being thrown off. "And the qiraji?"
"You don't think the silithid are only contained to southern Kalimdor, do you?"
Narelle said nothing. She had. Elune help them, they all had. They had suspected some tunnels had remained, ready to brooch the surface elsewhere, but... as far as Northrend? What else did Sin know, this master of the qiraji?
XxX
The sun was barely reaching high noon when they made it back to the camp. Dreadsteeds were far more hardy than even the mightiest Azerothian charger, and even when it had neared its limit, Sin had banished and resummoned the horse to a new, fresh physical body. Such was how it worked for minions of the Twisting Nether.
The camp was still where they had left it, hardly half a day ago, and it was in turmoil. The bandits had gathered up into two groups, Darnin's and Jern's, and they bickered at each other from invisible boundry lines as much as both together shouted at the qiraji Battleguards, hovering together near the base of a tree. Their scythes hung loose from their sleeves, ready to strike.
"-elf bitch slit his damned throat, and you did nothing to stop him, did ya!" someone was shouting, that Sin could hear as they came thundering in. Only a few even noticed their return, too eager to continue their dispute.
"-the fuck would we be following you or near you? Darnin, tell them to go their way and we'd go ours!" "The 'ell are we waitin' for, eh? Let's get the fuck outta here!" "Bleed them into the soil!"
Huh.
One of them who did notice, however, was Darnin. His tan veil covered his face and the top of his head, showing only his eyes, and he had sat cross legged between the two bickering groups patiently with his daggers on his knees. Jern was trying to argue back his followers, to no real avail. Upon catching sight of Sin's dreadsteed though, Darnin jumped to his feet, dragging the attention of Handon from where he was threatening to kill anyone who came close to their half of the division line.
At Darnin's movement, the people all looked to him, then to where he was headed. The whole collective lot of them fell silent at once when they noticed Sin standing there, tall on his flaming horse, with the night elf clinging to his back. His steed slowly clod forward, into the masses, while Darnin stepped up beside him.
"I'm surprised you waited," Sin commented. He hid his disappointment.
"I felt whatever took your attention enough to leave your qiraji behind was important. I stayed to keep blades from being needlessly drawn, and to hear whatever news you might bring. I have questions for you."
A cold dagger pressed against Sin's back, felt through the layer of his cloak of and robes. A finger tapped him twice there, but he only scowled away her threat.
Still, her point against Darnin's questions was valid. Sin said, "I'm sure you do, and I hardly want to be the one who answers them. Thank you for staying, but we are parting ways. Now."
The veiled face looked his way. There was no threat, no promise, no suggestion. Just a look. And it was far more dangerous than anything Narelle could conjure. Sin needed to deter him.
"I'm taking the qiraji back to Silithus. If you are so eager as to rejoin your old home, then come along, but their joy ride free is over."
There was a blur of Darnin's arms. Sin's dreadsteed shrieked loudly, abruptly jumping onto its hind legs. Both occupants fought to remain on, but then the horse – with a spray of demon blood coming from its neck – fell over to its side, threatening to crush them both. Narelly got her feet against the saddle and pushed, keeping her hold over Sin, and she pulled them both off to the jungle floor, landing roughly with him atop her.
They rolled aside both. Narelle ended on a knee, ready to lurch forward, but she stopped at the feel of long knives crossing before her own throat. She could smell the whiskey-breath of a certain dwarf as he purred behind her. Sin also got his staff planted on the ground before him, and smoke left his mouth at the same time his eyes ignited with a fiery glow around the iris.
He looked up to Darnin, the man who just killed his horse, ready to rip apart him and everyone behind him in a single spell. But as he raised Shed'lahk, the bandit leader dropped both daggers and raised his hands, while commanding everyone to back away. He dropped himself to his knees, staring defiantly at Sin but completely defenseless.
There was only silence then, as Sin stood again, keeping his staff aimed at the human leader. Darnin said, "I meant no threat, but I need your attention now. We can part, and you will get your half of our supplies, but before then, I would have you tell me what is going on in our world. Miko died for your plotting, Specter. I would not have the same, simply because you like secrets:
"The qiraji leave Ahn'Qiraj in a suicide mission and expose their queen prematurely. The Battleguards ally themselves to a human, one responsible for much of their death in the War of the Shifting Sands. You leave with the one who would be your killer, abandoned those you show great responsibility for, and you return in a mad rush. The world is in motion once again, as it had been just prior to the war we both fought in. I no longer seek to be your enemy, Specter, but tell me what is going on up that mountain wall? Let me plan for my own future with an aware mind."
"Sin," Narelle warned, indifferent of the blades at her throat.
He looked at her for a moment, then shook his head. "No... he has a right to know. They all do. Better they find out the truth from me than wild rumor in a few days." He put his fingers in his mouth to whistle, and the qiraji came up in a great storm to hover behind him, waiting. Sekara lowered herself to rest beside him, as did Ressact, on his other side.
"The qiraji's allegiance to me is a separate matter," Sin told Darnin then, noticing both Handon and Jern approaching to listen in. Everyone was now. "A civil war, that they were losing and wanted deliverance from."
"Sin," Narelle demanded. The daggers cut deeper against her throat.
It was well that she was detained, for otherwise she would certainly take action to prevent him from speaking. "I do not know where it came from, if it broke free in a single stroke or if it was summon, but-" Narelle pleaded one last time. "-an old god as appeared on the surface of Azeroth. One separate from C'Thun, your fallen god. One separate from Yogg-Saron, who died after. Perhaps it has come to take vengeance for its brothers, perhaps its random chance on our unfortunate world."
He shook his head, while Narelle fell into a deadly silence. "Now, you nihilistic bastards, you're free to make your choices. A new master has come for you to worship. I do not care what you decide, or how genuine you want to pretend. If you go to serve it, as the Twilight's Hammer does, you will soon find me at your doorsteps again. I am leaving now to take battle it and those who follow it, and I am leaving to gather to me all the blades I can once again."
Darnin did not move from his place in submission, but he said, "Things are different this time... The world is not as prepared as it once was for C'Thun's awakening. In fact, it sounds as if this one is already awake, at full strength."
A toothy grin from Sin. "Yes. It almost sounds like you'll have a better chance this time. Hold those words to your heart when I come for those who turn."
"Is that all the news you have to share?" Darnin asked mildly, appearing unphased by the news that had sent the rest of the bandits into a low murmur.
"It's all the news you need to make an educated decision."
"Then with your permission, Specter, I'd ask again if I may accompany you."
"To plant a dagger in my back later? Hah!"
"As I told you, I seek to be on the right side of the law this time, and I can think of no place better to prove it. My plans have not changed. And if we find victory, I believe there is no surer source to vouch for me than the Specter himself. This is a request from me, not the men who sought to follow me. They can make their own choices."
There was a nasally snort, and Handon spat into the soil. Sin did not question what he managed to spit out without saliva glands. "Well fuck me. That's where you want to go, Darnin? Well, so long as there's killing to be done, I'll keep on too. My blades are getting real thirsty."
Sin stared at them both with a steely gaze, until he looked to the subdued night elf. "Narelle?"
Loath though she was to say it, she admitted, "They appear... sincere."
How unexpected. The warden was not entirely impervious to lies, and Darnin certainly crafty enough to deceive her, but it spoke much of them. Handon would not have a change of heart – something had tied his loyalties impossibly close to Darnin, and he'd always love killing, but that only verified his trustworthiness if Darnin was genuine.
Still without moving, Darnin said, "Well, Jern, that leaves my boys with you. You lot know you'll be in safe hands with the Wind of the North. You've worked along side each other for some time now."
"Who says I don't intend to do the same as you?" the red bearded man demanded casually.
"And who says we don't intend to follow ya anyways you go, hmm?" the dwarfed that held Narelle captive asked, his voice humming in a self-amused manner.
The three bandit leaders looked over to him, seeing his lip turn up on one side. "What?" Louder, to be heard by all, he said, "You lot, we all know what it's like working under them oldy godlings. That so called "Great Master" crumbled to dust even with our help. And besides die, you all remember what we did? Dig, dig, and dig, then poison and kill some, then get yelled at as the entire fucking world worked against us, and then we died some more, at our own hands, and we dug some more... and then we were imprisoned in our own camps in some begotten desert.
"So if I ask yee who wants to join me in going back to that, which of you idiots is going to jump up with yer arms waving and say "aye!""
No one said anything, and his grin widened. "There, see. But let us be fair and realistic here. Some of yeh want to take your chances, and some of yeh don't want no more conflict. Let's do this, right now. If you fall into either of those two groups, you can leave right now – and not one of you ask a damned question. Let them go, to be done or to rejoin it. Alls fair, aye? The ramp out is right there for anyone."
There was a long moment of hesitation, with only a few beginning to move. Jern was nodding though, and he shouted harshly. "Go! Get out of here, you dirty mongrels! Go find some good water in some grassy lands and live free! Find some pretty, plump women and rediscover why we were born with cocks! We're free now, you hear, so get out of here!"
"Oi!" a female dwarf shouted back, as more were emboldened by his words. Her arms were akimbo. "I want me a man with some big, wide shoulders and a cock like a horse." That elicited laughter, and while a few dozen were moving to leave free, many more elected to stay. She was one of them, grinning ear to ear.
"Got one right here for you, lass," a man called back, and she looked to see it was only one of Handon's skeletal soldiers. He glanced down, then shrugged his bony shoulders. "Well, I did have one." More laughter.
Nearly a hundred left them, around half of the bandits. Between those that remained and the qiraji, that left barely two hundred men. Some were leaving with supplies, but Sin let them go. They would need it more than him. He gestured for Darnin to stand, and he commanded the dwarf off of Narelle.
The warden was silent again, her silver eyes like chips of ice, as she stared at him through her hawk mask.
Darnin recovered his daggers, nodding to the men around them. "I didn't know most of those boys anyways. You who stayed, I know you. I think I can trust you too." He paused when he stood before one, a human male with his head similarly wrapped and veiled, wearing sun-faded grey pants and a vest. An eye blink later, the hooked dagger was shoved up under the youth's chin and into his brains. Darnin whipped it out to a splatter of red blood, mixing with the glowing fel blood of Sin's dreadsteed.
As the boy fell to the forest floor, dead, he said, "Except this guy. He'd have betrayed us the first time we shut our eyes near him."
Jern released a disgusted snort, but he didn't argue, only took a glance at those that stayed for him. His men were different than Darnin's though, like that sassy dwarf woman. His showed restraint, showed humane conduct, at least to a greater extent than Darnin's. These were the ones that wanted to start a civilization with him in Silithus; the rest had joined Miko in the schism. None of Handon's skeletal force left, all loyal to their cleaver-wielding leader.
Sin shook his head at the murder of the boy who elected to stay. "Ever heard of due process of detainment and suspicion? Question first, kill second?"
"No," Darnin returned simply, with only a bit of cheek.
A wry smile appeared on Narelle's face. "I like this one."
Sin took another look at all who remained, at all who were willing to follow him. Certainly, the one hundred bandits was more than the forty man raid he had accompanied to fight C'Thun, but they were far less talented than that group of heroes – people like him – with far less extensive range of skills. Still, they were men and women of the desert, and appropriately hardened. He could do far worse, if they weren't to betray him in a crucial moment. Narelle, he was sure, would be glad to make a round through the camp and eliminate those intent on it.
With Shed'lahk gripped tightly in a fist, Sin announced, "Then if we are all finished, it's time to move. We go north."
"To Northrend, yes," Jern drawled. "But don't we need to get out of the crater up that ramp first?"
Sin's dark eyes gleamed at that – only Narelle noticed that the fire that had burned there was gone. With one lip turned up, he resummoned his dreadsteed, and after convincing the beast to not trample Darnin to death, announced, "There is a better way, one far more efficient, though it's going to take all of us to bully the qiraji to it. The titans have left us a stargate, connecting here to the exotic jungle of Sholazar Basin. I hope you lot aren't tired of green just yet."
None understood what he meant, even Narelle, but that was alright. After mounting his steed again, he shouted, "Come along now! We go north!"