Chapter 25: Hurias in Undercity.
Hurias sat himself at one of the empty tables in the inn in Brill. He presumed it was somewhere morning, but he could not tell for certain. Here the everlasting gloominess of the surroundings Brill was settled in never seemed to tell if it was early in the morning or late in the afternoon. Only night was obvious enough to him. Time passed slowly for Hurias here.
"Good morning, good morning," the joyful tone set by the goblin mage that walked down the rickety stairs was almost laughable if he considered where they were. "Didn't you hear the clock strike noon a moment ago?" Renee replied in her dark voice. "Renee, you truly are sunshine in Brill aren't you," Suarez mocked her. She gave him a dark chuckle when he passed her.
"Speaking of sunshine. Did drama queen decided to join us or does he still lock himself up in his room?"He asked when he only saw Hurias sitting at the table. The elf nodded. "Still severing from a severe case of Snowyness, says he won't come out until Jonas shows himself again," Hurias mentioned. Suarez shook his head in dismay. "Oh boohoo, he needs to pull himself together, he's married to Jeri," Suarez replied.
"So, what will it be this early noon, ladies?" Renee asked in an ironic tone when Suarez sat himself down. He gave her that mocking grin again. "The usual," Suarez ordered, fumbling with his money pouch. Hurias bit his lip. His money pouch was nearly empty. Now Jatfast was abandoning them, he didn't have many resources left to pay for his food. Jatfast promised him he would take care of everything, but for the time they spent here he seen little of that promise. Since money became really tight for him he tried to think of an excuse to not order anything at all. It wasn't as if he could walk into Greymur's house where food was plenty and he could pull a chair to the table dipping in to whatever there was on the menu. The hunter had plenty of meat. He wasn't troubled to share that with Hurias after he got fired. But Jatfast decided to pout in his room rather than face Jeri's twin, and basically left Suarez and Hurias to venture for themselves.
"How much was your soup again?" he asked quietly. Suarez eyed him. "Stomach still not settled?" he wondered. Hurias nodded silently, leaving it to count for an excuse so he would not have to think of something else to lie about."You might want to try some bread, more suitable for your stomach now you seem to be holding the content. You can't solely survive on soup," Renee mentioned, staring at him with her strange yellow eyes.
"I'm fine," he lied. "He'll have the soup, and some bread," Suarez ordered for him. Hurias opened his mouth to say something, sending Renee off to get their order. She turned on the ball of her foot. Her boney shoulder slumping when she walked away.
"I don't know what promise Jatfast made you, but he takes poor care of his employees if he forgets to feed them," the mage laughed. He held up a small pouch that seemed to be filled with coins before he put it back in a larger pouch to the side of his belt. Hurias felt a small blush creep up to his cheeks. "Don't worry, Jatfast might be the rogue, but I stole the money he had left. I say fair deal for leaving us like this!" Suarez his grin was wicked when he said that. Hurias gave him a small smile for that.
Jatfast's mood didn't really improve over the days they spent here so far. All they got was whining, anger and drama. According to Suarez this was a classical case of denial. It had something to do with an argument between Snowy and Jatfast. Whatever it was she said to him, she seemed to have stumped over him like some heavy artillery and crushed him into the ground, basically leaving him to feel very sorry for himself.
"I'm not going to wait here until Jonas shows his face again," Suarez mentioned, laying his hands on the table. "I say you and I are going to have some fun. What do you say elf?" Hurias had to agree with him. "I was going to visit Jonas his protégé, Rotharian," Hurias said, carefully displaying his thoughts.
"Sounds fine with me," the mage smirked. Hurias already seemed to feel less troubled. Besides, didn't Jonas provide them with a proper tour guide in the form of Rotharian? At least he made sure they had somebody to turn to if they needed something. He could be found in the blacksmith area where he was working.
The young man had been very able to show them around. Surprisingly telling them bits of past that belonged to what made it the Undercity while guiding them through the dark areas. He seemed to know quite a lot about Lordaeron's history. But when it came to a real conversation about his past he became very quiet, Hurias noticed. Not unlike himself. Rotharian didn't seem to fear the forsaken he worked with though. They even improved on Hurias now he spent some time here. What raised questions was the fact Rotharian seemed to prefer the company of his forsaken black smith above that of any elves he had seen wander around the dark halls.
It truck Hurias first when they visited the royal court by their request. He did not refuse to take them there, but he wasn't exited to show them either. He didn't seem to be very keen to meet with the elf that introduced himself as ambassador Sunsorrow as he started a sudden conversation the moment he noticed Hurias and Rotharian enter. He wondered if they were in need of his guidance, since he was the appointed ambassador for Silvermoon in Undercity.
When the female paladin laid eyes on Rotharian she rudely interfered in their brief conversation and demanded Rotharian's full attention. It almost seemed the elf was annoyed by her. More than he wanted to show. She talked to him in a very authorizing way. Even though Hurias didn't catch much of the conversation they had, since ambassador Sunsorrow gave Hurias his full attention, he noticed Rotharian being uncomfortable around the female paladin.
The dark haired elf made sure they were out of there before the female paladin could engage herself in a deeper conversation that sounded more like an interrogation then a normal request of what their purpose was. Instead of more official gatherings he showed them the forge where he worked with several others blacksmith apprentices. Most of his daily job was to forge weapons for the troops to aid the war against Gilneas. All of his co-workers were forsaken Hurias noticed.
Even though he was taken aback by the many forsaken he encountered in Undercity, it did not stop him from visiting the forge, if he could find it. With the proper direction from guards he ended up with a detour the second time he came here. Hurias simply watched and stared when he saw Rotharian actually work. Not only because of the weapons that were made but also because of the way the elf slung down the hammer with force to bend the metal he was working on his anvil. Hurias was very impressed, since de never possessed such strength in his arms. The easy way Rotharian was able to spent endless hours in the smithy, hammering away without being tired amazed him. Most of his weapons were standard like the others made them, but in his spare time he worked on his own designs. In his spare time he worked with his creative mind, combining several designs together in the appearance of his swords and knifes. The young man seemed talented in what he did. This made Hurias question his own abilities. Since he wasn't particularly good in anything.
"The soup is warm," Renee helped him out of his thoughts when she served the soup in a simple wooden bowl on a plate with a piece of bread to the side. Suarez paid her the money for their food before he settled with his own bread.
"So, what's it going to be today? Visit the forge, yeah? Then head of to Silvermoon?" he asked with his mouth full. Hurias was silent on the Silvermoon subject at first. "Why do you wish to go there?" he asked politely. Suarez whipped the spilled crumbs on his face with the sleeve of his robes when he shrugged. "I don't know, always wanted to see the place for myself. And extend my portal. Knowing your coordinates is important when you conjure your portal," the mage said, his smirk growing wider when Hurias nodded understandingly. "If you didn't know the coordinates to lock the portal spell to, you're very likely to end up somewhere you don't want to be," Suarez explained to Hurias. The elf had no idea's about portals and coordinates, but it sounded logical to him. the idea of having to visit Silvermoon didn't really appeal to him right now, something the mage noticed.
"But I don't mind if you don't wish to go. I can always come back. It's easy really. And Silvermoon it but an orb away," he said, taking another bite from his bread. Hurias smiled. He actually started to like the mage. Suarez had sided with him whenever Jatfast snapped at him. Of course he never said anything about the many jokes the mage made about his, but at least he was reasonable. But here he was, stuck, waiting for something to happen. Suarez wanted to go places, see things. He liked that. Hurias gave him a disgraceful look when he saw the mage stuff his mouth.
"I was thinking of buying a weapon from that elf blacksmith, if he is willing to barter over the price," Suarez made disgusting sounding noises while trying to chew on the last oversized bite he could easily have divided in two. It made him look greedy without knowing. It also made swallowing difficult enough to empty his drink in one go before he started coughing loudly and clapped himself on his chest with a fist to get rid of the feeling he was chocking on a piece of bread. "Stale bread, hard chew, I like the bread I ate in Bogpaddle better to be honest," he said, whipping the sweat from his head. "So, let's go," he hurried Hurias to finish the soup. "Are you as good as Jatfast is at bartering over prices?" he asked. Suarez gave him a nasty smirk.
"Who knows, let's find out," Suarez mentioned, jumping up from the chair. Hurias quickly drank his half warm soup, taking the bread with him to eat on their way to Undercity.
The sound of a hammer on an anvil echoed against the high walls of the underground hall the forge was situated in. Rotharian threw his arm back with force, working the muscles in his arm to cope with the weight of the smith hammer that now lay balanced in his hand, ready to be swung back and hit the metal on the anvil.
"If you work that hammer well enough you could kill a man with a single blow to the skull," Mirelle said to him. She had a half-rotten smile as she looked at him. He glanced back at her and smiled deviously. The hammer hit the anvil with a hard cling that rung his ears like a bell. "I think there are better ways to kill a man then with a hammer," he answered. "Really? What would be your preference?" She showed him a toothy grin of a left over stumps of rotting teeth. "A sword," he said between another swing of his hammer. The warm metal was bending more into a curve when the cold of the smith hammer hit it over the rounded edge of his anvil. "A two handed sword. But I could also prefer dual wielding two fine balanced ones," he said, checking his work. He seemed pleased with the result of his hammering before he set it aside and took the piece of metal to the bucket of water. The smoke was heavy to his lungs when he breathed. When the smoke disappeared, the red glow of the metal disappeared after it stopped sizzling in the water.
"I bet you have a good set of those," she said. "How's that creation of yours coming along?" she asked, hammering on the blade of a sword she worked on."Still unfinished, but we're getting there," Rotharian told her. James van Brunt had helped him work on one of his designs. It was a butterfly motive for the handle of a knife. The only one he ever made on his own was left in care of his younger sister as a gift.
Here he started again thanks to Jonas. Mirelle Tremayne gave him a weird smile, her jaw hung a bit when she did. He wondered if she ever had been pretty when she was still alive. What was left of her suffered enough with all her replaced parts and sewed skin. Mirelle never explained what exactly it was she had done in her previous live, but according to Jonas it had something to do with the Scarlet Crusade. There were more that served the cause of the Scarlet Crusade in a previous life before they came back as forsaken. Renee the innkeeper was another one he knew about; apparently she had been a captain when she still had a beating heart.
Mirelles past did not matter anymore, just like his didn't matter. He wasn't questioned about it. Nobody ever asked him about why he left Silvermoon and worked in a forge in Undercity. All they did was do their job and live in the now, leaving their previous lives for what they were. "If you need a hand let me know," she said, working the forge to heat up the fire again. He nodded, returning to the next weapon that needed to be adjusted in the same curve as the previous one. As the day progressed he noticed little of it. Working enough hours it seemed the days passed him by often enough. Working in the forge made it easy to forget the hours. His routine was good enough to leave him time to ponder.
"Elf, finish up and come and see me," James van Brunt stood watching him, his own hammer over his shoulder. The arm that held it more bone than flesh. Rotharian only nodded. He let the metal sizzle in the bucket before setting it in the sword rack against the wall.
"I always get lost around here," Hurias said, unsure if it was the right corner they took or not. Suarez chuckled, enjoying the worried look the elf gave him. "Simple, see it as a giant circle. And somewhere in between the forge will likely be found," he explained. If it was up to Hurias the design of this city had too much defaults. The last corner they took ended them up near the herbalist. Greymur would have insisted on visited the herbalist, if only to know the special types of herbs that grew around Brill if he wanted to pick some.
"How long do you think Jonas needs to make the necessary arrangements for Jatfast?" he wondered. Suarez chuckled. "Forsaken have an eternity?" Was his reply. Unfortunately they did. "But drama queen will have to come out sometime. He can't just abandon us. If he does I will take us back to Orgrimmar and he can arrange a zeppelin ride for himself to get his ass back in Ratchet. Simple as that. You can't expect to make a deal and not stick to your side of it," to Hurias that sounded reasonable. The next corner turned out to be a surprise. It lead them to a high pile of stacked coffins, he nearly bumped into them. Hurias stared at the rows of coffins on top of each other. He stared, wondering if they all contained dead people or not. "Watch it elf, precious load there," a goblin told him before passing him in a quick pace.
"Well, well, seems we get some quire folk around here today," the voice made him chill for a moment when he looked to the side. "Welcome to the spare part shop. Or the forsaken ride, whatever you want to call it," the woman had hair as white as snow. Her lips were painted a dark blue to match her nails. He literary stared at a copy of Jeri."Well hello handsome, where did you suddenly come from?" she asked, looking him over with a specific smile. Suarez poked Hurias and grinned when he saw the elf stare at her.
"Jeri?" Hurias muttered before realizing he said something wrong. The woman laughed loudly, her voice equal to Jeri's. She raised a thin epilated eyebrow to him when he mentioned the name. "Jeri? No, no, sweetheart, wrong sister. This is the Horde Coffin Hauler workshop. Jeri is on the other side of the salt water," she said, seemingly amused by the mix up. "I'm so sorry…I really thought you were Jeri for a moment," Hurias instantly apologized, feeling utterly stupid he made such an easy mistake. The goblin woman with her snowwhite hair smirked at him:"No worries, handsome, happens to me more often then I like. I do have a twin by that name," she said in a flamboyant way. Making a gesture of herself in one smooth go. "And looks can be deceiving. Of course I'm the better looking version of the two of us," she said heartily, adjusting the pin in her hair as she walked up to him. Hurias could have sworn he was looking at Jeri. He remembered Jatfast telling she was Jeri's sister, but he never imagined she looked so much like Jeri.
"So tell me, how does a handsome guy like you know my sisters name?" she laughed. Hurias rubbed his eyes for a moment."I…I work with her," he stuttered, recovering himself from the sudden shock. Snowy eyed him. Her smile divine as she looked him over a second time, liking what she saw. "Really? Well, fancy that! Now how does my dear sister manage to lure some handsome piece like you to work for her?" Snowy tilted her head as she watched his expression turn into uncomfortable. "I ehm…I..She is a good friend of mine," he stammered. Suarez slapped him on the shoulder.
"My friend here is a bit nervous around Undercity," he said, shifting her attention to him for a second."And you are?" he received a rather cold look from Snowy when he introduced himself to her. She hardly gave him any notice before turning her gaze back to Hurias. It left Suarez without a work for a change.
"Hurias and Suarez, what a pleasure to see you!" Jonas came from a dark corner of the workshop as he bowed to them. "I see you two found the workshop. Good, good, come to see what we do with the wares Jatfast brought us? I'm so glad to see you're able to find your way around our lovely Undercity," Jonas said to them. Snowy looked at him with a miserable face."You know them?" Her eyes glared at him. Ofcourse she wanted to know. Jonas nodded, draping the scarf around his face again. "Suarez, mage. And Hurias, protégé to your lovely twin sister," he introduced them properly to her. Snowy gave Hurias the same nasty look Jeri could give him when she accused him of something he had no clue about.
"I see. That also means you're acquainted with that pig husband of hers? Shame," her face instantly turned dark when she added one and one together. She defiantly showed the same type of mood Jeri coped with. Going from happy to unhappy within a second. Cornering him in a very rude way."I never knew my sister kept a toy in Ratchet. Now I know why Jatfast always goes on his errands and writes those lame stories of his. Although I would have thought that was more Jewels terrain," she smiled at him. Hurias didn't smile back at her. He didn't like her sudden attitude, nor her blunt remark towards him, assuming he was some plaything. People were teasing him too often with things like that.
"Miss! You do not know me at all! Therefore you have no right to assume in such an insulting way that I am plainly somebody's toy!" His nostril flared when he looked angry. Suarez looked at him with a sudden smirk. The usually quiet and timid Hurias showed a whole new side of himself. "Your sister and I have a relation purely based on friendship and yes, we do occasionally work together when I help her out when she settles people's debts. I find it highly offensive you automatically assume I am anything else to Jeri then a toy!" Hurias said in a stern but polite voice. Jonas and Suarez chuckled. Snowy looked rather surprised that he told her off like that.
"Alright, alright, easy there handsome, I didn't mean to spring your wires like that," Snowy gave him another look. His expression didn't make him less handsome, she giggled for a moment."There is really no need to get angry with me, handsome, I'm sorry if I offended you," she apologized to him. His expression changed. Hers as well. She was as strange as Jeri could be to him sometimes. Angered one moment, purring at him the next.
"I was merely surprised that's all," she said, sticking out her hand to him. "Snowy's the name," she said, introducing herself properly when she took his hand. "Hurias," the elf said. "Well, welcome to our workshop, feel free to look around. Where is that lame husband of Jeri's anyway. I would have thought he would come whining about hurrying up the payment," she said in a rather ironic way. Both Suarez and Hurias gave her a puzzled look for a moment.
"He locked himself in his room," Suarez had to say. Snowy blinked at him for a second, then turned to Hurias again. "Is he now? Well, seems he lost his guts easy this time," she laughed sarcastically. "Well, he is a bit out of spirits," Hurias said it ever so politely, looking at Snowy. She winked at him with that satisfied smirk on her lips. She was enjoying this, he could tell from the way she relaxed her attitude, knowing this was another covered up way of saying he was pissing shit. "Well, since you're here, walk with me and talk to me handsome, I'll show you around the workshop if you like. Meanwhile you tell me all about that misery of his. I love hearing a good story," she laughed to herself, taking Hurias by the hand. Before he knew it she dragged him with her to the back of the workshop. They disappeared behind several piles of coffins before Suarez lost sight of them.
"Nice," the mage replied before Jonas could say anything. "She's always like that," the forsaken seemed amused for some reason."Exactly how long is it going to take before we can go home?" Suarez informed. "His payment will be ready tomorrow. You can tell Jatfast he is welcome to pick up his payment here, or if he does not wish to meet here that I can bring him his payment in the inn tomorrow later in the morning," Jonas mentioned. "After that you are welcome to travel home," Jonas said. "After that we're out of here?" that was good news. As well as a relief for Suarez when Jonas confirmed it for him a second time.
"So," Suarez said, trying to look what was behind several piles of coffins ahead of him. He could hear they were using a saw. And the sound of some other tools. Sounded like engineers to his ears. Which made it all the more interesting. "So, she leaves us standing here as if we do not exist and runs off with pretty boy," Suarez snickered for a moment. "They are twins," Jonas replied dryly. He saw Suarez stand on his toes and glare into the direction where Snowy and Hurias vanished in.
"Perhaps you would like a tour as well?" the forsaken suggested mildly. The mage didn't say no to that." I do hope you have a good stomach for what you are about to see, " the forsaken chuckled before beckoning the mage to follow him. Suarez waved it away. It was a quick tour. But gruesome enough. He saw multiple goblins and forsaken dressed in black leather aprons wearing surgical gloves were while going through piles of bodies to the left and to the right. There was a row of large crates in the middle of the room labeled with each spare part that was supposed to go in there. The crates labeled 'legs' and 'hands' was far larger than the crates that said 'eyes' or 'fingers' he saw when he took a peek. Flies were swarming the place so thick they were wearing masks in front of their mouths. Even though the room seemed unnatural cold. The workers rummaged through the bodies as if they were some fancy merchandise, checking everything. They used a saw to cut off limbs and a chisel and hammer to remove certain parts before laying them in the appropriate crate.
If Suarez was ever distasteful of the sight then he did not show it to Jonas who showed him around. But he was glad when he came out and Jonas had to head back to work. He stood waiting for a long time. There was no sight of Hurias. According to Jonas he would most likely be occupied with chatting to Snowy till late in the afternoon. It left him on his own, to wonder if he would take his spare time to visit the forge or take himself up on his original plan. Silvermoon was but an orb away.
The underground room where she ordered her guards to place him was cold. Magically cold. If he had lived he probably held a constant craving after feeling the magic that was used. On the verge of giving in to the urgent need to feed on that same magic simply by draining the person that cast the spell. Just as he had done when she was working on her test ritual. For a second she wondered what it felt like to be going mad and to constantly be on the edge of that unsatisfied graving. To always be on the brink of needing to siphon stolen energy.
She realized she never asked him because she didn't want to know. It had been of no value to her. Now she wondered if it was.
The fabric of her skirts rustled softly as she walked around him. He seemed so peaceful when she looked at him. With folded hands on his sunken chest, dressed in the appropriate robes that belonged to his status and class, the warlock. Like her.
Lilah Whitemorn knew her son had not been able to summon any of his demons for a long time ever since he started to change. She vaguely remembered it had something to do with side effects of the use of magic to call them. According to the house alchemist it asked too much effort and triggered more of Asathar's urge to feed on magic. It was at expense of his own health he withdrew himself from their help, simply because the side effects he had to cope with were worse than not calling his demons from the Twisted Nether. When did her house alchemist mention all this again?
Why had the forsaken never told her that before? In frustration she recalled he had, but it past her, like all the things she considered unimportant. Now it was too late.
She gently touched his hand. They felt colder then the stone he lay on. His hands seemed even whiter than when he was still alive. The tight skin around his face gave his skull a clear structure. His bones seemed to stick out through the cloth of his robes. She studied his hands. Claws they were, with sharp black nails. How could she not have seen this coming? Perhaps in hopes she still had time. When they found him on the Death Scar after he helped that pregnant wench escape from her imprisonment he tried to end it himself. But she would not allow him that satisfaction. He begged her for it. Instead she locked him away in the pit for days, refusing him to siphon any magic. By the time she let him out he changed drastically in appearance.
A distasteful look gloomed in her expression when she realized that time was the one thing he never had. Not after he was cursed with becoming a wretched. Lilah quickly let go of her son's hand. Shivering for a moment. She didn't like touching the dead. Perhaps she was afraid of becoming infected with what her son could not control. Maybe, with the proper guidance, she could have helped him. A thought that kept teasing her mind. Making the guilt more real to her then when Olpras died.
The pain was literally written on her face when she looked at her youngest son in repentance. Asathar looked more like Olphras than she wanted to admit.
Once his face was calm and intelligence, once he had the knowledge and integrity that Lohurin obviously missed. Asathar resembles his father's features like a mirror's imagine the way he lay there. She didn't recall feeling this way when Olphras died after he fell from the roof of the spire. They never proved anything against her after Olpras died. Especially not when she played the devoted widow, the mother that would do anything for her sons. He was never there for her. He did his duty by her when he gave her two children, two sons to care for. It was hard to raise them on her own. Even after her required time of mourning Olpras she never remarried. She would never let a man rule her life again.
How she wished she could rule his once more, to prevent him from the simple mistake of giving into that addiction. No tears gave expression to the feeling she truly held. The nagging blame she gave herself, that horrible guilt she buried deep down inside, stashed away in a far dark corner of her mind. Her hands automatically went through his hair. What was left of his long blond hair was neatly draped over his shoulders. He might not have been as handsome as his older brother, but in the end he had more to offer than Lohurin would ever. That too was a sudden realization she should not have neglected.
She had ignored so much of Asathar when he was younger. All because she found him a whining child that begged for her attention. In her eyes he became especially annoying because he was rebellious when he became older. Lohurin hardly changed, Asathar did. He would provoke her more. Test her. In response she continued to ignore most of his actions, leaving him on his own. When he became an adult his whole behavior changed. He became this handsome responsible young man that suddenly proved worthy of his mothers attention. He astonished her with his intelligence. She encouraged him when he shared her vision and showed how well he did with magic. He had an amazing latent for remembering her new spells.
It didn't last very long when he came back home after finishing his studies as a scribe. Even in the beginning when there were only subtle changes to his appearance. She could not accept he disappointed her yet again when she found out he could not control his magical addiction. It made him a lesser person in her eyes. With the subtle changes the stubbornness he shared with his father played up again. And Lilah ignored it again in hopes he would go back to being that young man that was following his mother's footsteps.
Hadn't she always been a good mother to him! He would never, ever have to endure what she had gone through when she was his age. None of her sons ever have to stand at the bottom of the hierarchy if she could help it. By marrying Olpras she automatically assured any offspring their heritage thanks to his family line. But also its historical heritage went through his bloodline to her sons. It was unfortunate for Olpras that he could not keep his hands off of all these other women. So resentful she had felt when enough was enough and he humiliated her for the last time. The spire accident instantly made her a widow.
That Asathar also had bits of his father in him and unfortunately did not only resemble his was a minor detail she liked to overlook.
After he changed all her attention automatically went to Lohurin when he received his title of Champion. Solely on him, because she made him her successor. Asathar could have been a good successor. Asathar had everything she wished Lohurin had. The wrong son took the wrong decision and became a wretched. A process that was said to be irreversible. But she could not let it rest. Not after she made that promise to him.
Maybe she should have listened more often to him...
The face of the wretched now only resembled the bitter memory of the person Asathar turned into in his final years. But she was not at fault here. It was all the fault of that wench. That young paladin that had convinced him to let her escape. She wondered what made him believe her and convinced him to help her. Thinking of the woman instantly made her angry. More when she reminded herself how shamelessly Lohurin had admitted he slept with the woman, even though he was married to Anayis. He had not even weathered when she scolded him for the rumors she heard. He merely confirmed her suspicion. To him it was a joke.
All she had been to him was a passionate night of fun where he did not have to listen to his wife's cries or see how afraid she really was of him. When he slept with other woman he would do whatever he wanted without having to worry he would be told off on it. She, like some others, had been a hunting game for him, he admitted. And that wench had become pregnant!
Not Anayis, but that wench!
Lohurin did not seem to care he fathered a bastard. For all he cared he fathered ten more, as long as those woman didn't bother him with it and more, didn't endanger his reputation. Nothing could his reputation as long as his mother took care of things. Yes, mother! She took care of all of them. Lilah the mother, Lilah the overseer, Lilah the one with the solutions. But that paladin formed a problem. This one was also responsible for speeding up Asathar's wretched process when she told him to hunt her down and bring her back to make aments for his mistake. It was part of his side of the deal she struck with him. She would save him and he would bring her the mother and the baby.
She shook her head pityingly when she thought about it. Her eldest son was a shameless person and her youngest a restless one.
It was all the fault of that miserable young infidel she decided! And she would dearly pay for that! That wench should have been thankful! Kissing the very ground Lilah Whitemorn walked on when she offered Riselle the possibility of having the baby in the Whitemorn summer mansion. After she had the baby she could return home as if nothing happened. But she didn't want that. the girl was stubborn!
Lilah Whitemorn even offered the parents of the girl to make arrangements for a wedding between her youngest son and their horrible eldest daughter. A match that would help her family go up in ranks again. After she would have been married in name to Asathar she would have stashed the wench away in the basement, allowing Lohurin to ride her once in a while if Anayis was troublesome again. It would have been perfect!
It would allow her to keep the wench under control if she was part of the Whitemorn family. Every other young mother would have been happy with those possibilities. But no, the wench had to be obnoxious. She wanted to keep the baby, raise it herself. Bastard or not! Even her own mother could not make sense of the girl when she spoke to her, as mother to mother. After that she locked Riselle up in the basement anyway after they caught her, chained to the wall to think about it. Giving her a day to think about a proper answer. Or she would take measures in her own hands.
The baby would have served as Asathar's new incarnation. It was closest to her own kin. He was perhaps a bastard, but he Whitemorn blood also rushed through his veins. Besides, what was one child's life if her youngest son could have lived?
For once she was thankful her eldest son had the same habit her husband held when he was still alive. They both could not take their hands of a woman. She always wondered what all these woman meant to Lohurin after he slept with them. Eventually they turned out nothing more than a cheap way to practice her rituals with.
Now the whole purpose of the merging ritual fell into naught. It left her with nothing. No son, no vessel. Of course it would not have been ideal for the baby or Asathar, but that was a minor detail. Placing a mature mind in a baby body was not exactly the best merging, but it could work. Using a mature body could have reject Asathar's mind. A baby was innocent. And the bastard boy was of her blood. Maybe if she had her way the babe could have grown into it a bit more. Then the child would have been older.
But now Asathar was dead, and she held Riselle responsible for his death. She decided her bastard grandson would be payment for losing her youngest son. Altered the reason why she wanted him in the first place. She still had use for him. Once they found the mother, she would lead them to the son. And if she had the bastard boy in her power she would raise him, knowing that the best way of hurting the wench was that he would grow up by her hand. The real mother would never see her son again. And the baby would grow up in Lilah's image. A son for a son. That sounded like sweet revenge. And if she had enough of the wench, she would use the young mother in a ritual. Most of her test subjects didn't survive the rituals, or her guards would put them out of their misery before they would bury them on the Death Scar. So convenient.
"I will avenge you Asathar," she promised softly. One thing eased her mind a little. She would never have to look at those eerie blue eyes again whenever she saw him lurking at her. With that in mind she left the room to get ready for her departure to Silvermoon. She had a council meeting to attend to.