Five Days after arriving at New Agamand.
"Just stay still!" Lynara hissed. Tenderly, I'll reluctantly admit, she was using some blasted healing spell to deal with Balija's wounds. Despite her front as an iron-willed leader, the troll was a bit of a crybaby when it came to being burnt. Or scorched. Or toast, as it nearly became. For all she held her tongue at Lynara's gentle ministrations, her squirming was doing all the talking about her pain.
Our venture into the Ember Clutch had been…slightly successful. I had felt a little uneasy about the cask of plague resting across my back all day, a specially made 'spraying tool' attached to the container for application. It had moved as liquid does in motion while walking, the weight slowly sloshing about on my back with each step. No one had offered to take it from me since we had left New Agamand that morning- I didn't blame them, who among the living would willingly touch something that could theoretically liquefy them instantly? I had to keep my hand away from the trigger pull while carrying it, as when it had been demonstrated to me this morning by 'Plaguebringer Tillinghast', the trigger had proved to be a little loose and thus sensitive to touch. Deciding I'd rather not coat my companions and bodyguards in it, I had held firmly onto the barrel and handle of the contraption.
This plague canister that I had been assigned at New Agamand was now thoroughly empty and the spray-nozzle broken in two. Albeit, due to the clumsiness of Zul'khar combined with his dithering I had ended up dumping the whole plague on not only three drake eggs, but very nearly him and me also. The horror I had felt in that minute moment once the physical embodiment of the Society's hard work had nearly fell upon us had been so great as to make my heart beat twice- two loud, large thumps pounding in my chest startling me into crying out. With hindsight, I would have looked like I was starting at the plague being disposed in one go, but only I knew that it was the jumpstart my body nearly underwent out of mortal horror.
Watching the priestess at work, I admired Balija's minor burns, grateful that she and Gresh'na were keeping watch not far from us when the eggs dissolved around the foetuses, revealing fully formed and birth-ready drakes. When Mort had told me they were akin to dragons, he wasn't wrong. Viscously they had leapt from their shells to attack their aggressors, no doubt angry at their gestation being disturbed. Clumsy and wild they had slipped in the puddle of plague, all three now heavily coated in the toxin, resulting in…nothing out of the ordinary to my sight though the stench left a lot to be admired.
Small, razor teeth snapping and puffed up in possibly an effort to barbeque us, I had stumbled over Zul'khar and his infernal robe, landing us both on the burnt earth ready to be these babies' first meal- until our help had arrived. Slaughtering them quickly, the shaman and warrioress had saved us, Lynara catching us up from her position in the back of the group, near the edge of the forest. As resident healer and only source of wound-tending we had, it was decided she be kept the safest at the back.
Zul'khar had received a thorough telling off from his twin, while I worked up the courage to don heavy-hide gloves to deal with the whelplings. Their parents were nowhere in sight, the perpetually burning forest creating a veil of smoke over it preventing any natural light filtering through; determined to live on by its own source of heat only. Screeching roars had been heard in the far distance and other eggs nearby were starting to wobble dangerously. Annoyed at the loss of the plague in its entirety, I had taken off my cloak to wrap around the three small corpses and said bundle now sat a few feet away in a drenched, makeshift sack. I'd look at them later, when everyone had fallen asleep. It had taken us most of the day to travel there and about two hours before sunset when we made to go in, perform the deed and come out- only that had fallen flat on its face.
Now seven specimen's short of the desired amount for testing, we had to make the long trek back tomorrow to New Agamand with less-than-brilliant results, though some of me didn't wonder if that wasn't a good thing. Even so, I didn't like leaving something so unfinished in this manner.
"You're next." Looking across the fire, I saw Lynara's glowing green eyes staring back at me, her face ominously flickering with the shadows that only a campfire can bring. Begrudgingly I admired the fact that her light-blonde hair haloed around her face a bit too conveniently.
"I'm fine, I didn't get hurt-"
"You were next to the plague when it spilled everywhere- nicely done by the way- and Zul'khar is exhibiting chest pains. You're next, no arguments." Striding over to me, I struggled to think of an excuse to get out of this. I couldn't let this happen, the dull headache I had suffered being so nearby while she healed the others had nearly subsided. Much like Ryndan's burst of Light in the Catacombs all that time ago, being in such proximity to its workings was painful still. However, mercifully it wasn't in as large a burst as the Captain's own example of power, instead small and gentle waves of healing as she inspected the damage after each invocation.
"No, honestly, I am well and about the plague-"
"Be quiet, take off your robe," she ordered, fussing over me.
"What?!"
"Off, now. Or do I have to force it off? I can and will if I must." She insisted, brooking no argument. I searched for help- Gresh'na was out gathering firewood and no doubt keeping watch, as she was keen and prone to doing. Balija was now resting on her mat a little a ways and her twin brother was snoring loudly next to her, a soft wheeze evident in his breathing. On my own, as usual.
"I don't want to. I'm fine as you can see." Crossing my arms in defiance I watched nervously as she raised on long eyebrow and looked entirely unconvinced. She wouldn't seriously force me, right?
"You don't have to hide it from me- I know your 'secret'," she didn't even lower her voice, simple sorted out the wrinkles in her smoke-marked white robe. I gaped.
"M-my what now?"
"Your secret, though The Light knows why you bother hiding it- that you're Forsaken? Don't deny it," she held up a hand halting my protest. "I can smell it on you," she stated distastefully and not without lifting her nose in disgust. She thinks I'm…?
"Oh, well, I – didn't…that is…erm…" Why didn't Mort just think of that? An albino blood elf … by The Light, that man!
"Cersae, I'm a priest, I am highly sensitive to all things unholy and Anar'alah, yours is one unholy stench. I've been around a lot of Forsaken but yours is just unsettling." As much as I wanted- and was going to go along with this- I didn't appreciate the insults.
"I apologise for offending your senses, oh holy one," I said stiffly. She held out her hand.
"Give me your robe."
"Why? If I'm Forsaken then I'm not going to be affected by the plague am I?" I challenged.
"I'm not so sure about that- they want it to destroy Scourge, don't they? Aren't you essentially the same make-up?" A…very valid point I had not considered before.
"I- I suppose so."
"There it is, so I need to see if there's anything wrong with you and also you have a hole in your robe, so give it to me. I cannot abide wrecked clothing." I once again eyed her marked dress but said nothing. This was the nicest she had been in the few days I had known her and I did not intend to spoil it. Decidedly, I removed the feeble brown garment and handed it to her, the woman retrieving a needle and thread from somewhere on her person.
Sitting in silence for a small while, dressed only in my grey woollen shirt and frail leggings, I stared into the fire, Lynara softly singing a hymn of rejoicing- a typical song for any spring celebration, I believe. She threaded very well by firelight, the sky overhead cast and dark- no stars tonight. The light of the Ember Clutch lay behind us, a near-hour's walk from our camp. Luckily, I doubted rain would grace us with its presence tonight, leaving a dry night for the fitful sleepers.
"All done- looks like a claw slash, I wouldn't be surprised if you had a corresponding wound to go with this at your waist," she looked pointedly at said spot on my body as if willing the wound to show itself. Grumbling I knelt and lifted my shirt a way up, revealing …nothing.
"Hmm, there should be something judging by the depth of this tear, and their claws didn't look that dull… still at least I have confirmed your race, that explains your ghastly figure some. I would hate for someone alive to look as wretched as you."
"Thanks," I muttered in deference to the mending of my shirt and her not-so-hidden verbal offense. Throwing the robe back over my head, I welcomed the comfortable weight that such a garment provided with all of its thickness and warmth.
"Much better. My talent is sorely wasted, I tell you," she sighed heavily.
"Do they- the others- know?" I asked meekly. Much like the feeling in Valgarde when Luciya and Favian-Fordring learned how I felt no emotion, a pit in my stomach formed at the idea of the rest of our party knowing I had purposely lied to them, even if I was covering that lie with another lie.
"I doubt it. Gresh'na might but she won't say anything, it's her forte to remain silent as you've seen. Balija is trying hard just to keep our small guild of four afloat and make a name for it whereas Zul'khar is too busy cocking things up and is in his own little world to pay attention to anyone else. Thankfully they're not privy to your unique aura, they haven't been around the Forsaken as much as I," she said matter-of-factly. I was surprised she was even speaking to me this much. I would be lying if I didn't feel a wave of relief filter through me briefly at her assumptions.
"Why are you with them anyway? It doesn't really fit your…style," I asked, poking at our dying fire with a stray stick. She simply regarded me.
"'My style'?"
"Yes- you're quite, well, prissy. They're…not." I thought back to how savagely Zul'khar ate his meat or Gresh'na walked around in blood-spattered clothing, or even Balija's barbaric way of killing something. "You just seem like you'd prefer to be wearing fine, expensive clothes sipping wine rather than trudging around in the mud, is all," I indicated to her own fancy garment, her black stole a still hanging straight and true, not out of place despite the grief it underwent through today's mission and its inferno location. I had observed each one of them for a while on our journey today with bored interest. Lynara was very cautious about where she stood, what she became involved in as well as being highly opinionated about everything from her food to what style her hair was worn in that day. Loudly she had protested at some of the more dirt-ridden paths we had wanted to take today insisting her flimsy shoes would get wet and she would catch a cold and then where would that leave them? Despite Balija claiming leadership of the odd band, Lynara tended to dictate most of it to her whims.
"I like them," she replied simply. I waited for her to elaborate but nothing came.
"That's it?"
"Yes."
Finding there was little I could do to coax it out of her, I fell silent. Stubborn in a similar sense to Luciya, I found that she would only say something if she wanted to, not because she would be tricked or goaded into it much to my displeasure. Cunning people like her tended to be smart enough to avoid the tricky questions and I disliked that immensely, it was like she could see exactly where I was trying to lead her and refused to follow, simple throwing my off track instead.
"And you? What brings you to the murky lands that is the South of Northrend?"
"I-" I started. What do I say? "I am involved with the plague development," I decided on, expressing an ambiguity that could no doubt match Bart or Ryndan, I thought proudly.
"I see." Why did she have to sound so unimpressed?
"Do you perhaps not agree with the plague?" I ventured.
"I am unconcerned by it. If it kills the Scourge then I support it wholeheartedly. I will just leave it to those in the know. It has little to do with me." Her whole stature suddenly reminded me of that Ashwood woman the night I was excommunicated from the Argent Crusade. The only-my-opinion-matters-and-there's-nothing-you-ca n-do-to-change-it attitude was evident not only in her strong voice but also in her straight, unwavering posture and general facial expression. This woman exuberated confidence that I had no hope of achieving, and there was something admirable about that- no matter how much her manner annoyed me.
Deciding to take a risk, I stood on thin fjord ice and asked, "suppose it's for more than the Scourge. Suppose it's made to be effective against any enemy? Any living enemy. Would you still support it then?"
"Suppose it is able to kill anyone. Suppose the Society take it further than the Scourge. Suppose earthroot grows out of your nostrils and you fall up into the sky," she obscurely countered without even seeming surprised at my line of questioning.
"Does that not concern you? The idea that the Forsaken could just up and use this on whomever they wanted?"
"I am just one person, a mere priest, Cersae. Whatever it is I feel there would be little I could do to change it against a force so large as the Apothecary Society."
"Do you really believe that?" I asked cynically. She wouldn't just lay down like that, would she? It seemed extremely uncharacteristic for her royal prissiness.
"Do you?" She stood up and stretched up high, giving an unfeminine groan as she did, her actions granted me the chance to notice how long her body truly was from this angle. Straight and flat on all visible planes there was very little womanly curving offered. I supposed I looked like that too with proper weight gain on my poor skeleton such was our biology- having noticed similar thin and lean frames from some of the elven woman amongst the Crusade.
Nodding me a goodnight she went away to lay down, our conversation finished. What did she mean by that –'Do you?' Did she really believe that she couldn't do anything? Surely not, though. She was stubborn enough to tell us what to do so surely she could get her point across with enough force or cunning, even in her case.
Watching the three sleeping bodies and sat in a dull silence, the fjords offering little to aid my loneliness. After a small while, the northern wilderness returned Gresh'na to us, firewood in tow before she divested of most of her armour and curled up under her rough furskin for warmth without any word to me. Clearly I was on watch tonight. Left alone to my thoughts I kept an ear out for any intruders, the nocturnal creatures of the fjords my only company. Stiff and bored being left to my own devices I tended to the fire for a while, it content to sizzle out through the night into a puff of smoke. I felt like it- all passion and burning to begin with but as time here drew on I felt myself dwindling and fading into the surroundings, nothing keeping me stoked or being tended to. I envied these four. For all their disorganisation and mish-mash when it came to executing plans, they were a lively bunch who trusted each other to watch their backs. The Crusade was similar, not wanting to leave anyone behind where possible- taking sometimes fatal risks to aid a fallen comrade. We Death Knights certainly held no such philosophies. If you fall behind, you are left there to rot or get back up, no one to help you.
I found a small comfort in the idea, relying on nobody but oneself. Others can disappoint or betray you, letting someone else rid of your presence without even trying to stall- whereas you cannot betray yourself. For all these four were 'protecting' me, they would leave me behind also. I decided not to care about it, once this business was over I could go back to finding Edmund. He had weighed heavily on my mind the first couple of days after leaving the Crusade, floating in and out of my lucid thoughts, his mouth moving but the words not reaching my senses. How I longed to hear him again, his deep voice rising and falling with excitement and disappointment when explaining alchemic results, or describing the properties of a new herb to come across my studies. How I loved listening to him explain Manigut's Six Spagyric Laws or Seraphime's Principle, Ephraim's Laws or even Philpott's Transmutation Equations. With a fondness, I recalled our late hours at night hunched over an old book, squinting in the poor light to discover something alchemically new. How patiently he explained them to me! He likened it to cooking sometimes despite knowing I was useless at such things!
A loud snore snapped me from my thoughts and I realised I was smiling. I saw the shadowy outline of Zul'khar, probably, shift and turn on his mat, settling back again into peace. Content he was staying asleep my eyes drifted around what little scenery I could see this night- next to nothing. And then my eyes fell upon the quarry of today's efforts. Grimacing I shifted over to the sodden thick cloak holding the encased slaughtered. I needed to decide what I was going to report back about the effects of the plague. They took nearly three times what I should have sprayed on them so I prepared myself for some extra-gruesome findings. Bucking up the courage to observe the effects of the toxin I donned my thick-hide gloves and untied the knot, allowing the blanket to fall away.
What I saw was definitely not what I expected.
"Oh this is not good."
The Next Day.
"What?! No, this can't be right. CURSES!"
I watched as Tillinghast marched around in a stomping circle, clearly displeased with the results of the testing. Upon our return to New Agamand earlier today I alone had taken the 'specimens' straight to the Plaguebringer who charged us with this task. My uncertainty of what to report back to him cleared up quite quickly upon last night's revelations and turned out to be for the better, as the current temper tantrum in front of me was demonstrating.
"This batch of the plague doesn't seem to have had any real effect on the proto-whelps at all other than to make them glow green!" He shouted, to no one in particular. There were no other people near us as this fit of his kicked off, others looking at it from a far (and safe) distance or just ignoring him completely. I stayed decidedly quiet as he worked through this. With the lack of real results, the plague development was now held back and luckily it was bad enough that he didn't care about only dumping it on three whelplings instead of ten.
"My dream of using the plague upon anything we come into contact with seems to have gone up in smoke! Damnable creatures! It's not like they had a vaccine or immunity against the plague- they weren't even freshly hatched!" He ranted. Quite happy with my work I slowly stepped backwards in an effort to get away while he dealt with his failure- before my arm was roughly grabbed.
"Wait! That gives me an idea! What if it didn't kill the whelps because it was sprayed on the outside of their eggs?!" His rotted face was leaning in quite close, a twisted grin deforming his expression further. I mentally berated myself for not thinking of that- of course the eggs would have provided protection, possibly even absorbed some of it- who knew what the shells were made of? Stupid! It was too late to change my story now, if he thought I had sprayed them on directly in the first place then his excitement would deflate immediately.
"We have to get the plague inside of them…but how, let me think." Letting me go he started mumbling again to himself one skeletal finger tapping his chin and waving around in the air at each passing idea he came up with. Bemused and slightly disturbed I watched on, hoping he couldn't come up with anything now realising my faux pas in regards to
"I know! We'll immerse some meat into the plague solution and feed it to them directly! You, girl! Take the plagued meat to the Ember Clutch and get them to eat it- then we'll see the proper results!" He spoke fast and sloppily, his decaying features unable to keep up with his flurry of talking. "Of course the younger ones don't have as much mass to absorb it…still thinking too small…Yes! That's it! Let's get one of the proto-drakes flying overhead to come down and eat it! That'll give us true results!" he laughed maniacally, evidently pleased with his progress. Cackling away he dismissed me to come back once he had soaked the meat. It wasn't long until I found Mort skulking about the place.
"Successful venture?" He questioned, not even a 'hello', 'how are you' or 'good to see you came back alive from the fiery deathtrap'.
"I think so, but I think I messed up the results report," I told him consciously. Concern folding his face, he pulled me away from the 'town centre' away from prying eyes or ears.
"Explain."
"Well, the results weren't great- they just turned the drakes green, but I should have thought more carefully about it. I thought that this was a huge setback for them but from an alchemist's point of view of course a negative result is still a result, isn't it?" I explained. He nodded sternly, urging me to continue. "Now he's on a different track knowing that the plague isn't effective on living creatures- or drakes anyway. Why is he so concerned about the drakes in the first place though?"
"Because most likely anything that can kill a hardy and thick-skinned drake with little effort will topple something like a tauren effortlessly, I'd reckon. We're quite cunning like that I'm afraid."
"But why a tauren? I thought they were all a part of the same Horde?"
"Aye, you're right, but you and I know they want this plague to be capable of killing anything. The bigger your target is, the more you'll need or the deadlier it'll have to be. It just wouldn't surprise me that they're covering all potential bases, including drakes too," he said grimly.
"That's…rather harsh. Um, but yeah, if I had thought about lying about it being successful then he would go on thinking that the plague worked and a nullified version would be implemented, right?" I was so chagrined I hadn't thought of this last night with all the time I had. I was so elated that at first glance there was nothing wrong with the drakes, but my alchemic knowledge was near non-existent so for all I could report there was nothing, other apothecaries would comment on something I had missed as a novice.
"No, I'm afraid they'd do multiple testing on other targets to make sure. One set of results isn't enough to go on- you need definitive proof before implanting something as expensive as this damnable plague."
"So…I couldn't do anything about it either way then?"
"Not directly, no."
"Then- then why did you say I had to alter the results? You said it was down to me to make the right choice!" I cried exasperatedly at him, he didn't look surprised at my outburst much to my flaring anger.
"I wanted to see what you would do, where your loyalties and morals lay," he said deadpanned.
"Are you serious? Mort, I am getting so sick of your toying with me- if you want me to do something, just tell me! I am not in the mind for any of your games!"
"I had to make sure. You've not been the same since you were turned and I didn't know if I could trust you with this yet."
I stared at this man I dared to call friend. This was Mort, my mentor, my guide and only family I knew of. What few memories I recalled before my Turning- he was there with Edmund, laughing and joking, teasing and teaching. And now that same man was saying he didn't trust me. My thoughts last night dwelled on self-independence without relying on anyone and now I saw that anyone also included the one person I thought was looking out for me. In one moment my world became less shades of grey and more black and white.
"You should rest up, it seems you have to head back out, do you not? I left a couple more books that I found in your room, take some time to read them carefully to see if you can't remember anything yet," he finished, stalking away with his head held high.
Later, sitting on my bed at night I picked up one of the new residents in my little hole of a room. The cover was unnamed and unmarked, the binding familiar and comforting in my hands and opened the pages. Come early morning I had made the decision not to tell Mort that not only had I read and remembered this book from before, but also combined with my fresher memories of Edmund's alchemic teachings on the trail I had recalled my alchemy to the point of contradicting the book's theories and making sense of my journal notes wholly and clearly.
I was only going to let myself be used for so long, it was time to take charge of this by myself.
A/N- Writer's block is gone. I know exactly what the next few chapters entail and will publish them posthaste.