Chapter 28: Cold Snap
"Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice."
Then.
Before the Third War. Before Lordaeron's fall. Before the Forsaken. Before so much of the world changed.
"What's it say Zackel?" Mirade Hom said. A tow-headed girl of nine years old, she wore ragged hand-made cloth clothing that had seen more than a few patches in its time. The girl did not stand out though, as her two companions wore essentially the same thing.
"Let's see…" Zackel Jude said, peering at the sign. While he was two years younger than his brother Daldion, he was generally the better reader. Considering that his brother was bigger and stronger, Zackel rarely saw this as a disadvantage.
"If…you…are…going…to…cross…this…field…" Zackel read slowly. "Make…sure…you…can…do…it…in…nine…seconds."
Confusion crossed Mirade's face, as did Daldion's. Zackel shared their puzzled looks, before peering down and seeing a second sign beneath the first.
"…Because…the…bull…can…do…it…in…ten…seconds."
"…What bull?" Daldion said, getting up on the wooden fencing that had stopped the trio's advance, peering around the empty field that it blocked off. Zackel swiftly joined him, realizing that his brother was right. There were several bushes and a sagging tree in the field, but no bull. No animals at all, as far as Zackel could tell.
"I don't see a bull. Do you see a bull?" Daldion said.
"No." Zackel said, trying to climb higher on the fence to see if it helped. It didn't. "Maybe it's not here now?"
"Then let's go!" Daldion said, leaping over the fence and into the open field.
"…uh, Daldion, maybe we shouldn't…" Zackel said.
"Come on brother! We can't see any bull, so let's go!"
"But that doesn't mean…" Zackel said, and then Mirade cut him off by climbing over the fence and following his brother. "Mirade, wait!"
"But there's no bull Zackel!" Mirade said, turning around to face the young boy.
"Come on! Hurry up! Or else the deer will get all the Peacebloom berries!" Daldion said from where he stood, about two-thirds of the way across the field.
Zackel was about to reply when he saw the bushes moving, his young eyes drawn to the movement.
Zackel's caution, as it turned out, had been the correct action. The bull, who went by the charming name of Tyrant, was indeed out of sight, mainly because over time it had carved out a furrow between some bushes it liked to nap in. Napping had been just what Tyrant had been doing, before loud child voices woke him up. Never having been friendly in the best of moods, being woken up put him in among the worst, as he pushed himself out from within the bushes, shaking his head.
"Oh no." Daldion said.
"DALDION RUN! RUN!" Zackel yelled. Tyrant took the advice first, breaking into a full sprint towards the young boy. Daldion yelped and ran for his life, trying to reach the other side of the fence first.
To a grown man, what Zackel did next would likely be considered stupid. But to a young boy scared for his brother, it made perfect sense, and hence he jumped off the fence and ran after Daldion and Tyrant. And Mirade, equally lacking sense, followed him.
Though technically, neither Zackel or Mirade ran AFTER Tyrant. The bull had begun chasing Daldion from his side, while Daldion had run for the other fence. By proper definition, Zackel and Mirade were chasing Daldion and running TOWARDS Tyrant, who was running towards where Daldion was. Daldion, meanwhile, was running to the fence and hence technically away from Tyrant: the young boy managed to get to said fence and leap over it several seconds before Tyrant would have run him down.
It was right about then that Zackel realized just what a tactical error he had made and drew up short. Mirade mirrored his actions, even while Tyrant turned around to face the pair.
"Uh oh." Zackel said. Mirade, lacking something new to say, merely screamed.
"NO! ZACKEL!" Daldion yelled from the other side of the fence, as Tyrant wheeled around and went after his little brother. Zackel had already turned to run, but he could tell that in a straight chasing sprint to the fence instead of an attempted interception, the bull would win. It was what the sign had warned, after all.
"THE TREE!' Zackel yelled, grabbing Mirade and pulling her to the nearby tree that had been planted in the field as fast as he could. Fortunately, both Zackel and Mirade were good climbers, reaching the tree and scrambling up it before Tyrant reached it.
Unperturbed, the bull rammed into the tree full force. The impact nearly knocked the two children right back out of it.
"Ahhhhh! ZACKEL!" Mirade cried, holding desperately onto the tree side where she crouched.
"Hold on!" Zackel said, trying to figure out what to do. Tyrant, annoyed by the constant loud noise, backed up and rammed the tree again, forcing the young boy to grab hold of it before he was tossed down to the bull's mercy.
"HEY! LEAVE THEM ALONE!' Daldion yelled, picking up and throwing rocks at the bull to try and get its attention. Unfortunately, his small child arms lacked the strength to get the rocks all the way to his target, and hence Tyrant remained focused on his victims.
"HELP!" Zackel screamed. "HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE HE-!"
Tyrant crashed into the tree full-bore a third time. Screaming, Mirade finally lost her balance and fell, frantically grabbing the branch she'd been on before she hit the ground. It just caused her to dangle from the tree like a piñata, Tyrant turning towards the young girl to run her down.
"NO!' Zackel yelled, crouching down and trying to reach for Mirade to pull her back up, vaguely aware of a sudden pressure in his chest. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"
The pressure suddenly shifted, flowing down Zackel's arm.
The bolt of energy lashed out from Zackel's clutching palm and struck Tyrant directly between the eyes. Zackel was so surprised at this that he inadvertently fell out of the tree, crashing down on the grass at its base. Once again, Mirade mirrored his action, partially due to lack of strength and partially due to her own surprise.
Tyrant, however, was in no state to take advantage. The bull had reared off, shaking its head, feeling like a swarm of angry bees had set about its face. Zackel managed to only stare for a few seconds before he got up, helped Mirade up, and fled towards where Daldion was standing on the fence, his own surprise having rooted him there. Tyrant did not seem to notice, the aggression knocked out of him.
"…Zackel, what did you do?" Daldion said, once his brother and Mirade were safely on the other side of the fence with him.
"…I…don't know." Zackel said, looking at his hand.
"…Cool! Do it again!" Daldion said, already having dismissed the deadly events as only children could.
"I can't…" Zackel said, repeatedly thrusting his hand out. "I don't know what…"
Tyrant rudely interrupted the trio's attention by crashing against the fence, causing the three children to scream and scramble away. Having recovered from the strange blow, the bull stalked around the wooden barricade, glaring at the small animals that had both disturbed and escaped it. The children returned the animal's gaze, even as they became aware of a distant approaching voice. One that sounded quite cross.
"…Are we gonna get in trouble?" Mirade asked.
"Not if we don't get caught. Let's go!" Daldion said, and the three children took off. And as Daldion had said, they didn't.
Circumstances, however, would never allow Zackel and Daldion to tell anyone what had happened that afternoon. Their father, Craleld, had been having a strong sense of unease about the Tirisfal Glades for some time, and shortly after that day informed his family that they would be leaving. Packing up their possessions, the Jude family had traversed the Eastern Kingdoms, ultimately re-establishing a new farm on the borders of Elwynn Forest and Westfall. The long, hard journey and settlement caused Zackel and Daldion to forget what Zackel had done up in the tree.
Years would pass. In time, Zackel would re-discover his blessing, even as Daldion would discover he possessed it as well. And thus would the brothers' path be set.
To Now.
Zackel Wintersoul burned.
For two seconds.
The howling winds surged down, wrapping around Zackel as he crossed his arms before him. The hungry fires seemed to be seized up and strangled by the gales, pulled away and devoured within the space of a few more seconds. Zackel's robe was left covered with scorch marks, his face marked with soot, and his hair badly singed, but that seemed to be it, even as he slowly lowered his arms and looked at the shocked face of Grel'borg the Miser.
"…Not…bad, ogre." Zackel said. "You have any more flavors?"
"How did you…?" Grel'borg said, before Zackel snapped out his staff and blasted another battering ram of ice at the ogre. The attack drove Grel'borg back across the roof before he finally turned it away, throwing the mass of ice to the side.
"You should be DYING!" Grel'borg snarled over the storm. "What HAPPENED?"
"You set me on fire. I put it out before it could start doing damage." Zackel said, lowering his staff so he could put his weight on it. "I will admit, if you'd outright sprang it on me, I probably would be a lot worse off."
"How did you…?"
"Come ogre. Since the moment we met, all you've used is fire. Very powerful, very skillful fire…but fire nonetheless. Did you really think I couldn't possibly predict that, at some point, you might try and set me on fire? I was born at night. Not last night." Zackel said. "So perhaps, it seems, we've come to an impasse."
"ME SAY OTHERWISE!" Grel'borg said, thrusting out his hand and firing a wolf-sized fireball at the mage. Zackel lashed up his hand, the howling wind seizing the projectile and carrying it up and off into the sky where it was snuffed out.
"…why are we doing this?" Zackel said.
"You do not…!"
"Yes, I remember. I supposedly am not possessing of worth. What specific worth, you refuse to tell me." Zackel said. "But I haven't stopped thinking, ogre. About why you'd have a grudge."
Grel'borg slammed his staff down, causing an eruption of fire beneath Zackel that the mage just managed to dodge by jumping backwards. Even so, Zackel was quickly realizing that the seeming ease that Zackel had 'demonstrated' in shrugging off Grel'borg's immolation attack had rattled the ogre: his most recent magic attacks had been considerably easier to read and counter.
"I suppose it could be because you want something I have to make you stronger, but based on what you've shown me, I don't really know what that is or could be." Zackel said. "I suppose you could be seeking revenge for the ogres in your clan I killed, but something like that doesn't match the efforts you've likely had to go through showing up here now instead of earlier. Or maybe you just look at me and are reminded of what you are, and that's enough to what to kill me."
"You think you better, stronger, because you MAN? Grel'borg kill men! Many men! You just LATEST!" Grel'borg said, swinging back his arm and lashing a whip of fire across the whole roof. Zackel ducked under the attack, losing a few more hairs in the process.
"Yes. I am a man. A smart man. One who couldn't see any of those reasons working. So based on that, and your words…you're trying to prove something."
Grel'borg hurled more fireballs. The greater effort Zackel had to make to destroy them made him realize the ogre was getting his head back together. He didn't have much time left.
"Look! Whatever wrong I did you, I am sorry! Neither of us has to die today!" Zackel said. "If you want me to concede you're my better, I do so! You kicked my ass! Can't we just call it even then and go our own separate ways?"
Grel'borg was silent, cocking his head at Zackel.
"Oh yes, this sounds idiotic. Talking this way to an ogre. You're right. If I was talking to most any other ogre, I wouldn't be wasting my breath." Zackel said. "But you're not just an ogre. You're like me. A mage. How ogres became magi and how I became one doesn't matter. We're cut from the same cloth. You're not stupid. So why is this coming across to me as profoundly just that?"
"…Me want you dead. That, that." Grel'borg said, taking up his staff in a new grip. "Me strong, you weak manling."
"…Perhaps. But I try. I tried." Zackel said, taking up a similar stance. "That's the kind of man I am."
"You NOTHING!" Grel'borg said, fire exploding in the air before him.
"So you've made clear." Zackel said, his own icy energies manifesting. "Show me."
Grel'borg slammed his arms forward, fire erupting outward in an expanding mass. Zackel mirrored his action, firing off a countering ice blast in return.
The two met in an eruption of scalding steam, Zackel immediately feeling the pressure in his body from the ogre's offensive efforts. If the ogre was feeling the same, Zackel couldn't tell; the attack and its steam cloud had completely obscured the ogre from sight.
Zackel swiftly got an answer anyway, as the fire boiled over and began pushing back his ice. Zackel grit his teeth and put more effort into his attack. It recovered his lost ground, but only briefly, the fire then coming back stronger than ever.
Zackel fell to one knee and redoubled his efforts again, but the fire blast did not get forced back. Somewhere in the steam, Zackel could hear Grel'borg's laughter. Sweat ran down the mage's face, the liquid stinging whenever it reached his burns.
Zackel took a deep breath, and then stopped his attack. Grel'borg's fire exploded forth, burning everything in its path.
Grel'borg roared delighted laughter, but it didn't last, as he realized he'd heard no shriek of pain or death come from the mage. The ogre began stalking forward before he stopped, realizing something else.
The steam cloud that had enveloped the whole roof also remained, something that should NOT have happened. With no more conflict between the mages, the storm should have torn through the obscuring vapor and dispersed it in seconds…
It hadn't. The steam cloud was staying. The storm wasn't touching it.
…the storm was obeying the mage.
Grel'borg snorted, turning his staff around as he tried to sense the mage's fire again. His snort turned into a snarl when his vision, instead of locating a clear target, instead returned a mass of shifting, merging motion, any of which could have been the mage. The steam cloud, unlike the obscuring blizzard, was far too hot to pick out an individual's body heat within it. The anger swelled more deeply within the ogre, even as he turned around some more.
"…he cannot hide from me! Not even with this!" Grel'borg said, pointing his staff. "His tricks are crafted of paper…!"
The blue bolt impacted near Grel'borg, a flash of blue light sending a spear of ice out and tearing across the ogre's arm. Grel'borg stumbled away with a yell, even as two more blue bolts struck nearby. One fired a spear into his chest; the other went for his leg and missed. Grel'borg was too angry to notice, smashing the spear aside and whirling around with another snarl.
"Still hiding?" Zackel said, posing his sentence as a response rather than an actual question. Grel'borg turned and fired a blast of fire towards the voice: he struck nothing, and before the ogre could compensate, more blue energy bolts flew towards him. Grel'borg lashed out with his staff, a whip of fire shattering the spears before they could get to him, which just allowed the resulting follow-up ice daggers to crash into his shoulder.
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Grel'borg thundered, as he began drawing the heat of the steam into him. He only had to do it for a second before the storm abruptly returned, sweeping away the hot mist and leaving his target clear, standing in front of him. "NOW I HAVE YOU!"
"Maybe." Zackel said, and slammed his hand down.
Grel'borg looked up just in time for the giant wagon-sized ball of ice to fall down onto him with a thunderous crash.
Zackel hadn't been commanding the storm, not precisely. He'd merely been briefly directing its energies.
"Courtesy of my brother." Zackel said, slowly walking towards the fallen ogre, watching for any movement. "He was ten times the man I was, but I'd like to think…"
The explosion of fire came out of nowhere, Zackel caught up and thrown backwards by the attack. He landed on his bad hand again, the pain causing him to briefly cry out before he swallowed it. Grel'borg's dark chuckle confirmed to Zackel that he hadn't hid it well enough.
"Too bad HE not here." Grel'borg said, pulling himself up. "Maybe he actually do something I feel."
Zackel stared grimly at the ogre. Despite his best efforts to compensate, his broken hand had gotten in the way again: the ice ball hadn't struck Grel'borg with enough impact to do proper damage. Neither had Zackel's ice spears; in fact, despite how Zackel's brain had finally gotten into gear after overcoming his near-incineration, none of his spells seemed to be lining up with it.
The ogre magi's fire mastery ran even deeper than Zackel had realized. It seemed to be actively blunting the blows that the mage did land. And…
…That didn't matter. He was still in the game, and he still had to win.
"You full of tricks mage, but I full of POWER!" Grel'borg said, slamming his staff out and firing off another spray of fireballs. Zackel put his own up before him, willing his power through it to deflect the attacks away, even as he swallowed deeply.
Then he reached out into the storm once more.
Grel'borg continued the assault for several seconds before he realized the chill that was settling onto him. He ignored it, believing it to be a brief side effect of his directed magical energies. It would soon adapt…
Except it didn't. The cold the ogre could feel only increased. His eyes catching movement, the ogre discovered that frost was actually creeping up his extended arms.
The storm wind seemed to howl directly into the ogre's ear, and realization came. The mage was directing the storm again. He was trying, actually trying, to FREEZE HIM TO DEATH.
Grel'borg would have laughed out loud if he hadn't decided it was a waste of energy. Instead, he promptly showed the human mage his folly, and ceased his attack.
The ice daggers flew directly at the ogre, the human clearly expecting an opening. Grel'borg batted them aside with a gesture, continuing his slow stalk towards the mage.
The concentrated chill on Grel'borg's body multiplied even more, Zackel no longer trying to hide the fact. Grel'borg kept walking, even as his power and will surged up within him in response, countering the mage's deadly cold. The white frost that had formed on him began to melt, and despite Zackel's best efforts, he could not instigate its return.
The power built to a roar within Grel'borg, all he had learned and earned.
Built to a release.
The ogre's arms blurred out as he sent the fireball out from him, said ball nearly as massive as his form. Zackel's eyes went wide before he tried to mount a frantic defense.
Too late.
The explosion shook the roof anew, and Zackel tumbled backwards out of it before he smashed into the sealed-off entrance that was opposite of the one he and Grel'borg had come through, immediately falling to the stone before it in a smoking heap. Grel'borg snorted again: the mage had managed enough of a guard to not get reduced to ash, but he doubted the mage felt good about that fact. Or good in any way.
"Trick after trick after trick. All the same end." Grel'borg said. "You ask why I say you nothing? Look at self!"
Zackel's only response was an anguished cough, the mage trying to get up without letting go of his staff. Between the damage he'd inflicted on it before for spare parts and this fight, the protective enchantments on his robe weren't going to hold out much longer, and definitely not against anything that big again. Fel, even breathing hurt after that last fire attack.
"…why…is it so important…that I…be…"
Grel'borg's response was another fireball. Zackel barely dodged to the side, his mind working furiously.
The second fireball caught him square in the chest, blowing him backwards against the sealed-off buttress. Zackel's staff clattered at his feet as his gave out, leaving him sitting limply on the ground.
"Because it needed!" Grel'borg said: Zackel looked through blurry eyes as the ogre patted his chest in a confident gesture as he spoke. "Only one it not clear to is you."
"…stubborn…" Zackel said, pulling himself up via the wall with his good hand before calling his staff back to him. "That's the kind of man I am."
"Not much longer." Grel'borg said, and hurled another lance of fire.
Zackel had no real idea how he dodged the attack. He was certain he'd at least lost an ear to it, even as he willed strength back into his legs. He couldn't get pinned down.
So he surprised even himself, and charged.
"HA? WHAT THIS?" Grel'borg said as the mage ran towards the ogre. "You think this change?"
Zackel's response was to lash out his staff, hurling a crescent blade of ice towards the ogre. Grel'borg deflected it as he always did, but Zackel had immediately followed it up with others, forcing the ogre into a constant defense as he covered the distance. The ogre narrowed his eyes, a wicked glint in them, and Zackel saw fire shoot up his staff, even as the ogre put a hand on his chest again.
The last piece of the puzzle clicked in, even as Zackel closed in, lashing his staff out one last time.
This time, he stabbed it forward. Grel'borg instinctively went into another defense.
It was wasted, as Zackel had not thrown more ice. Instead, he'd manifested a block of the material floating in mid-air in front of him.
In the back of his head, a voice screamed that of the few dozen times Zackel had tried this in friendly duels, he'd only succeeded once. And the key word there was friendly.
Zackel's only response was to snap his staff close to him before he lifted up his leg and stepped up on the ice, the frozen water briefly defying gravity and giving Zackel just a second of lift…
Another frozen block flashed into existence before him, and Zackel stepped up and off that one too. Grel'borg's eyes went wide, as the third and last block manifested and Zackel stepped up and off it as well. The ice blocks crashed down to the ground, their purpose served: Zackel had literally walked on air for a moment, and used it to get the height advantage.
Sometimes, he who dared won, as Zackel flew over the ogre's head and turned around, a blade of ice manifesting on his staff.
Even with only one hand holding it, Zackel felt the ice cut deep as he lashed out at Grel'borg's back and caught him just below the shoulder, gorging a bloody line down the ogre's body and partially down his leg before the blade slipped off and slammed into the ground. Blood dotted Zackel's face as the ogre roared its pain, even as Zackel tried to get away…
Too slow. The ogre's fist crashed against Zackel's face, throwing him backwards several feet before the mage landed with a crash, just managing to hold onto his staff. Stars swam before Zackel's eyes, which were quickly swallowed by a jaw that felt like it had ripped right off and threatened to consume the mage in darkness. Pain. Even prepared for it, Zackel had never been good at handling pain.
He'd approached that issue with the same technique he always did: learn from it. He had. Some in the fashion of coping mechanisms for it, especially when it came to combat tactics….
And some in the way of combat tactics itself.
"STUPID MAN!" Grel'borg yelled, whirling around, his staff still burning with terrible power. "YOU…!"
"Up to my old tricks." Zackel said, pointing. The ogre looked down.
It was amazing how well a painful back wound kept one from noticing a blue circle of power that had been laid beneath him. Hunters weren't the only ones who could lay frost traps.
Zackel's was one of his own special design.
The ice erupted, a twisting mass of cutting, impaling lances shooting up and tearing across Grel'borg's front, like the ogre had been raked by a giant clawed hand. The trap had been perfectly timed to exploit the hole that Zackel had observed in the ogre's defenses when he attacked, and it showed in Grel'borg's cry, a noise of true suffering. More blood spattered the snowy rooftop, Grel'borg stumbling and almost falling down before he regained his feet, his black robes having been reduced to ragged tatters from Zackel's two strikes.
For a moment, the ogre stood there, breathing heavily and leaning on his staff. Zackel managed to get back up, swallowing once more as he got ready. He wanted to make another appeal, to try and stop this fight…but as smart as Grel'borg seemed to be for his kind, he was still an ogre.
Zackel knew, no matter how intelligence the ogre might have somehow become, what was coming regardless of that fact.
He'd planned for it.
Grel'borg's eyes almost seemed ready to catch fire themselves when they looked at Zackel, and the frost mage briefly felt like someone had taken a drill to his teeth. He knew then, without a doubt, that within the next minute, the battle was going to be over.
"DAMN YOU!" Grel'borg roared, a screen of fireballs erupting into existence all around him. Zackel's only response was to hold out his staff.
"Troublesome. That's the kind of man I am."
Grel'borg's barrage of fire was so intense that Zackel swore he almost caught alight again simply from the effort he had to make to defend from it. Zackel fought through the sensation, holding his defense. The ogre was rapidly burning through his magical energies now, all he had to do was hold out and strike before the ogre realized it…!
Grel'borg began lashing out with his staff, sending fiery whips to mix in with the blasts. Zackel manifested another ice wall before him, and when the whips swiftly tore through that he got down on one knee and tried to hold on, his injured hand close, the frost energies gathering on that…
More fireballs came, along with another fire bolt that exploded the stone next to Zackel and pelted the mage with hot, stinging shards. Zackel took one last deep breath.
Then he charged again.
His angled loop when he started caused him to dodge the second fire bolt, the intense ray burning more of his robe to ashes. Zackel ran a few steps, fireballs flying all around him, and then he did three quick staff gestures.
The first two fired ice projectiles that were blown out of the sky before they got anywhere near Grel'borg. It served to get his attention.
The last manifested a sheet of ice on the ground between Zackel and the ogre.
Zackel went low and threw himself on his back, sliding down the ice a second before a third fire blast would have blown a hole in his stomach. Grel'borg's eyes jerked down as the mage slid in under the ogre's wall of projectiles, slashing his staff down to aim at him…
Which was when Zackel tossed out the ace in the hole he'd been hoarding the whole time and thrust his staff at the ogre, firing off the counter spell he'd been developing throughout the whole battle he'd fought and jamming Grel'borg's offense in its tracks. Zackel immediately followed this by slashing his staff down into the ice, causing it to abruptly shift in a drastic fashion, in this case up, with the end result of hurling Zackel into the air.
The mage brought up his injured hand, even as he drew level with the ogre. Then he thrust it out.
The cold energies surged from his palm, striking Grel'borg directly in the face and overwhelming his protective 'hot-bloodedness', the icy energies piercing through his eyes and into Grel'borg's brain beyond. Zackel hit the ground, almost losing his balance and plowing into the ogre before he took a knee, even while Grel'borg reared back, his staff clattering at his feet, the ogre clawing at his face.
"Be painless." Zackel said, as the ogre continued to thrash. The freezing would render him blind moments before it caused the liquid in his skull to freeze in turn, turning his gray matter into ice cubes and sending him into the cold dark.
Grel'borg stopped. Zackel's eyebrows arched, and then his heart dropped into his stomach as he saw steam rising from Grel'borg's face.
"It can't be…" Zackel said, for the first time at a loss as Grel'borg lowered his hands. The ogre had fought off the killing strike. He'd somehow broken out of the spell lock and turned away Zackel's fatal cold spell. HOW? How had the ogre…?
"Rarrgghh, rargghh…" Grel'borg grunted, before darkly red energies erupted on his hands. "RARGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Oh no." Zackel said.
The flame pulse that erupted off of Grel'borg's body not only melted all the gathered snow off the whole roof, it nearly set the nigh-unburnable stone on fire. Several of the stones exploded from the abrupt temperature change, showing Grel'borg with red hot shrapnel. The ogre didn't even seem to notice, lowering his hands.
Halfway across the roof, Zackel lay, a few small fires sputtering out on his robe as his eyes fluttered open. He'd manifested an ice block and still felt like he hadn't: his splint had finally been destroyed by the fire pulse, leaving his swollen, throbbing right hand exposed. Zackel tumbled through intense vertigo for a few seconds before he fully settled on where he was, his eyes drifting slowly around him.
His staff. He'd lost his staff. He had to get it…
Grel'borg's foot slammed down on Zackel's broken hand. The mage screamed at the sudden, horrendous pain, feeling like his whole arm had been shoved into a meat grinder. Somehow, he stayed conscious.
He wished he hadn't. A moment later, thick fingers seized Zackel by the back of his neck, pulling him up as Zackel found himself face to face with the furious ogre. Said ogre promptly rammed his face into Zackel's, snapping the mage's head back as darkness crawled up in his gaze.
"NO." Grel'borg said, seizing Zackel's broken hand and squeezing it, the pain sending Zackel roaring back into consciousness. "NOW YOU SUFFER."
Grel'borg may have been a mage, but he was also an ogre, and that simple, brutal fact became clear as crystal as Grel'borg locked his arms around Zackel and began to squeeze. Zackel felt both his bones and his lungs compressing, the grip tighter and more vicious than any hold Rielle had put him in.
"YOU NOTHING! WORTHLESS NOTHING, SAVE MY LATEST MEAL!" Grel'borg snarled, increasing the strength of his clench. Zackel tried to turn his good hand, tried to call up something, anything to defend himself, but the crushing pressure was too great.
"GO AHEAD! USE ICE! USELESS ICE!" Grel'borg said, reading Zackel's attempt. "NOTHING BEFORE FIRE! AS YOU NOTHING BEFORE ME!"
A tiny groan escaped Zackel's lips, even as he felt what he swore was his arm bones slowly cracking in half. His hand spasmed, unable to focus.
He couldn't call on his ice. Why bother? The ogre had beaten off every single skill and attempt Zackel had used with it. He'd done everything he could, been the most devoted of servants, and yet the chaos had overcome it all…
The masterless fire.
…the…
"DIE." Grel'borg said, watching the light dimming in the mage's eyes.
"…no." Zackel somehow said. Grel'borg let out a cruel chortle.
Zackel's response was to press his palm against his body and reach deep.
"And what have you to STOP IT?" Grel'borg said, preparing to break the mage in half.
"…bad breath." Zackel said, and fired the energy through his body, the magical force surging up into his lungs as Zackel opened his mouth.
The fire erupted out in pure dragon style, enveloping Grel'borg's as the ogre emitted a surprised squeal. Maybe normally, the ogre would have outright ignored the fire, but his face, despite the previous attack's failure, had been deeply chilled by Zackel's blow. The mix of ice and fire caused Grel'borg to feel like his whole face had been torn off, as he dropped the mage and grabbed at his features, squealing in pain.
Zackel fell at Grel'borg's feet, managing to somehow keep from passing out again. His brain roiled under all the sensations in his body, but underneath it all the calm, developed part spoke up. Through years of study and honing, Zackel heard it.
His good hand slapped at Grel'borg's feet.
The ice erupted up from the ground, impaling through the ogre's appendages even as it flowed up his legs, locking him in place. Grel'borg let out another squeal of agony, his hands going from his face to his legs.
Zackel did not understand, at the time, what had happened next. He'd been turning away in a mini-daze to get away from Grel'borg when the ogre's shrieks of pain had abruptly shifted into a bellow of rage.
The fireball struck Zackel in the back, the robe's last iota of magical protection burning out even as it tossed Zackel forward onto his face. Zackel, by sheer chance, managed to get his left hand under his body before he landed, sparing himself the agony of landing on his broken one or banging his head.
"MANLING!" Grel'borg bellowed as Zackel tried to push himself up.
The ice erupted from beneath Zackel, so sudden and unexpected Zackel froze bodily before being frozen literally, his legs and lower robe encased in the dark ice. Though having never experienced being the victim of a stolen-spell before, Zackel hadn't known that it could be performed like THAT: the ogre had outright copied his frost rooting.
Zackel immediately reached out, trying to command the ice away, only to find it resisting his control. Turnabout had been fair play: as Zackel's fire had burned Grel'borg despite his mastery, Grel'borg's ice had frozen Zackel in place.
"That is it." Grel'borg said. "No more running. No more tricks. Now you DIE, and what I do not turn to ash, I SHALL EAT UNTIL NOTHING REMAINS."
Zackel jerked his head around as Grel'borg held out his hands. Fire erupted between them, then fed back and doubled on itself, and again. Zackel could feel the sheer potency of the gathered flame. If the ogre hit him with that, there wouldn't be much left for him to eat.
Zackel's head jerked around, trying to locate his staff and call it to his hand. But the staff was gone, tossed somewhere and lost when the ogre had done his wave of combustion. Zackel quickly gave up on the staff and turned around, firing frantic blasts of ice at the ogre. The fire he had gathered before him melted the projectiles before any of them got close. His heart hammering in his chest, Zackel turned and began trying to exert his will on the ice that held him. This time, he felt it, but enough resistance remained that Zackel knew it would take him at least fifteen seconds to break free. And he doubted he had that long.
And just like that, he was out of options. He'd played the game as best he could and been out-maneuvered at the very end. All that was left was his resignation, and in this case, said resignation would be from the mortal coil.
For one of his moments, Zackel wondered if Rielle would be kind enough to find Daldion and tell him what had happened-
NO. He couldn't give up. Not like last time. Not like with Zuijizra. Not now. Not ever. Never again.
He still had power. He could still fight! He HAD to!
…but what could he do? His arcane spells were so rusty that they'd likely just annoy Grel'borg before he struck. The ogre had taken all his ice abilities, his pride and joy and greatest strength, and come back for more. And Zackel had allowed his brother's fate and his own neurosis' to hold him back from re-discovering fire until it was far too late, and even if he hadn't, the ogre magi's strength in such matters greatly outstripped his. He had nothing.
It was bitterly funny. Between certain mages (Zackel included), there was a long and fearsome debate over which was better: Fire or ice. Both sides had strong arguments and decent track records, but in the final moments before his demise Zackel realized how ridiculous it all was.
Fire and ice.
Neither could save him.
And in the end, both would kill him.
Then if separately neither can succeed…why not utilize both?
Zackel had no idea where the thought came from. He blinked, raising his left hand, misty blue energy flowing from it as he called on the power he knew most intimately.
"…what?"
You've studied, and pondered, and prepared, in that war and in all your wars. You've always known about the deeper things below the surface. Now it's time to truly use that.
Zackel looked at his hand, and the two seconds he did so seemed to stretch out far longer. The storming rooftop, the ice encasing his legs, the ogre behind him summoning his death, it all fell away.
Zackel looked at the ice, and remembered the fire.
And he saw.
"…can I?" Zackel said.
The void walker. The man'ari. And a voice.
Yes. You can.
The world came back to Zackel, the mage drawing air into his lungs.
"So I will." Zackel said, and held his left hand a touch higher, even as he drifted his broken right one over it.
He could hear Grel'borg yelling something, and feel the heat of his expanding fireball, but at the moment, Zackel couldn't have cared less, as he reached deep into his power, the magic he'd been gifted to command. Used it to peer into the natures of ice and fire, and look beyond their surface contradictions to find the deeper resonance beneath that magic could provide.
"Sontarrrrrrr…" Zackel said, the icy mists surging fiercer from his hand. "Dawktturrrrrr…"
The fire flowed from his shattered appendage, the pain briefly gone, as the two came together between his hands, the fire settling and burning scarlet over the core of freezing blue. Zackel felt a deep tremor run through his body as he successfully merged the elements, feeling the power of their combined enmity arcing through him.
"IT ENDS MANLING!" Grel'borg yelled, abruptly bringing the mage's attention back to him. The ogre hadn't even noticed Zackel's moment of epiphanic zen, having formed an incinerating mass even larger than the last giant fireball he'd hurled at the mage, the burning sphere now hovering above his head. "NOW YOU DIE! NOW I WIN! NOW I FEAST!"
The light from the fiery ball of doom hurt Zackel's eyes, and he turned away, cradling the frostfire he'd created in his hand. It sang to him, calling out to be used.
"Eager to avenge your grudge and eat me. One would think a mind solely devoted to those two things would understand something." Zackel said.
"BURN!" Grel'borg yelled, and hurled the destroying sphere. It roared up to consume Zackel.
With one wordless gesture, Zackel turned and answered the doom the ogre brought to him, the frostfire bolt lancing out and plunging into the pyrosphere, a needle wielded against a battering ram.
The fire died almost immediately, the heat devoured and sucked into Zackel's projectile, the orb instantly transforming to ice and shattering as the frostfire bolt pierced through it and continued on.
"WHAT?" Grel'borg screamed, and then screamed anew as the frostfire smashed into him, lifting him right off his feet and carrying him across the whole roof.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The buttress wall behind him shattered as Grel'borg was driven into it, the stone wall collapsing in his wake.
Zackel turned around, his back facing the scene, his left hand still open.
"I'm best served…cold." Zackel said, and clenched his fingers.
The explosion within nearly blew the roof off the buttress and the walls across half of Alterac Valley, the fire and ice elements of the bolt ceasing cooperating and initiating their final, violent reaction to each other. The remains of the fortress room collapsed afterwards, bits and pieces of rubble bouncing across the rooftop by Zackel, who opened his hand before lowering it to his side.
"…maybe that should have been 'Best served BY cold'…but that sort of ruins the attempted wordplay…yet what I came out doesn't really work eith…oh, never mind." Zackel said, glancing behind himself. "It's all said and done anyway. And that's game."
With that, all the pain and exhaustion came crashing back onto Zackel, and the mage surprised himself for the fifth time or so by not passing out. Maybe Rielle kicking his ass all over the room over the past several weeks hadn't been a waste of time after all.
"All the same…" Zackel said, turning and limping towards the destroyed buttress, his imprisoning ice having been melted away by Grel'borg's last hurrah. He thought he'd spied something during the battle, a brief moment in all the chaos, and he was desperately, desperately hoping it was what he thought it was.
After a minute's search turned up Grel'borg's battered personal bag, knocked off his person by Zackel's ice trap, Zackel again hoped against hope as he gingerly opened it that he and Grel'borg once again thought alike on such matters.
The inside smelled terrible, and had more than a few unidentifiable items in it…but Zackel barely noticed when he caught the glimpse of the red vial. Gently taking it, Zackel pulled out the potion, very carefully putting the bag down before shifting it to his broken hand so he could unstop it.
The familiar spicy redolence of a healing elixir was the greatest thing Zackel had ever experienced with any sense in his lifetime. It was amazing what you could find on the personage of monsters sometimes.
"Oh thank you Light." Zackel said, drinking a third of the vial down. He lowered his arm, carefully holding the vial as numerous small twitches began to run through his body, the potion seeking out and soothing his pains even as it healed his wounds. Holding up his badly damaged hand, Zackel poured another third of the potion onto it and clenched his teeth as bones were forcibly rebuilt and tissues rapidly renewed. It was far from pleasant, but the fact that Zackel could actually move his hand afterward was more than compensation.
Zackel stoppered the vial before checking through the rest of Grel'borg's bag, finding to his considerable delight two more potions, one of which was also of the healing variety. It was greater than any money or treasure Zackel had ever gotten, as he tucked the other healing tincture away and drank the second one. The specialized potion flowed down into his stomach, soothing his magic-ravaged body and allowing his power to return to him at a greater pace. It didn't exactly make him feel like getting in another fight, but it helped.
"…now then…If I can just…locate my…" Zackel said, his eyes drifting up the burned and battered Alterac fortress roof. As he did, he realized two things.
The storm seemed weaker in its actions, the winds now calling instead of screaming, the visibility greater for anyone instead of just a skilled frost mage.
And his staff was lying on the ground near where he'd been frozen. Zackel blinked, wondering if he'd somehow missed it in the chaos, or if it had been lying near the buttress and been tossed over when…
A faint crackling noise reached Zackel's ears, and a chill ran through his spine when he realized what it was.
Shifting stone. Zackel slowly turned back to the broken part of the fortress, dreading what he would find.
But no ogre had pulled himself up from the ruins of the stone protrusion, nor had some new enemy made its presence felt. The stone, however, was still shifting, slowly. Zackel watched for a few moments, realization slowly coming to him.
The fight was still not over. In this case, however, the only thing left was a proper coup de grace. Zackel inhaled slowly through his nose.
"…All right then." The mage said, as he made his way over to the crumbled remains. As he walked, icy mist swirled around his right hand, forming a cruel blade that extended from his fist, an icicle from the Lich King's nightmares. He could see the body, most of the stone shifted off. He moved the last few pieces with some re-directed cold wind.
Grel'borg's face was covered with blood, but his eyes went wide and clear when Zackel seized him by his horn and shoved his ice-blade under his chin.
"I even catch the slightest INKLING of magic use, and this chill goes all the way up into your brain. I assure you, it will prove far more effective than my first effort." Zackel said, his low voice somehow heard even with the storm. "I tried to make you listen. But as I've sadly learned, the only thing your breed listens to is fear. Fine. NOW FEAR THIS."
Zackel drove the point up into Grel'borg's chin, ever so slightly. He knew from personal experience just how effective this was at getting one's undivided attention.
"I have beaten you. You are at my mercy. By the laws of ogres, I should kill you. And by their laws, I am your superior." Zackel said. "But whatever wrong you may think I paid you, there's one I did pay to the women and children of your clan in the basement of this fortress. I don't know how many of your fellows survived my blizzard, but considering none of them have come up to try and join this dispute we had, I could very safely assume there may be none. Which would leave you."
Zackel twisted the icicle, briefly glancing at the blood running down its length.
"So I spare your life. I give you the chance to seek greater knowledge and power. On one condition. You go back down to your people and you lead them to safety. And you never again darken this door, or any door of mine that I might yet possess. That is my declaration as your superior. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
Zackel was pretty sure the ogre, after staring for several more seconds, nodded. It was somewhat hard to tell with the knife Zackel had rammed under his throat.
"Good." Zackel said, reaching into his robe and removing the mostly-empty healing potion. He dumped the remains into the ogre's surprised mouth: it wouldn't fix him back up to optimum form, but it would at least ensure he could get up and walk away. Grel'borg's eyes grew even more confused as the ogre choked down the potion.
"You don't understand. I'm really not surprised." Zackel said. "Restraint. Oversight. Benevolence where none should be given. Creatures like you can't see how any of that would be of use in pursuit of power. But I pursue power too, and that's what separates us. That, Grel'borg, is the kind of MAN I am."
Zackel removed the ice dagger, stepping off Grel'borg's body and turning away, dissolving the weapon into nothing.
"I'll ensure safe passage back down below. After that, I never want to see you again." Zackel said, and slowly made his way back towards the door.
He'd hoped he wouldn't hear it.
And when the bellow of rage reached his ears, he realized deep down that he'd expected it, as Grel'borg surged up, fire burning on his hands to destroy his enemy, his humiliator, his superior.
Zackel lowered his head a moment, closing his eyes.
Then he looped his foot under the staff at his feet, his staff, and kicked it up into his awaiting right hand before aiming the magical weapon over his shoulder and channeling every single bit of magical energy he'd just regained into one massive burst through it.
The ice bolt flew out, striking the ground to Grel'borg's right and exploding outward, a pistoning mass of ice slamming into the ogre and hurling him into the air.
His bulk did not stay there long. And his momentum had not been towards the battleground. Screaming his fury, Grel'borg the Miser fell off the fortress, plummeting towards the ground below.
Down there, long forgotten, the ice spikes gleamed, some of the deflected spells of Zackel Wintersoul having impacted and manifested there into a mass of cruel possibilities.
Their edge had not been dulled. Nor had their bitter cold.
Zackel heard the scream cut off below, before the wind reached out and carried the final sound away.
"…No second chances. That's the kind of man I am." Zackel said, and put his staff down on the ground as he began to walk back to the stairway that lead back down to Rielle.
He'd taken two steps when he saw the gleam. It stopped him in his tracks, his eyes drawn to it.
The gleam came again, letting Zackel pinpoint where it was. And as he did, the thoughts all came back.
How the ogre had seemed to be talking to someone or something else other than him during the fight…
The way he'd repeatedly clutched at the same area of his chest, as if confirming a presence. Zackel's attempt to 'freeze Grel'borg to death' had actually been a sort of full-body scan, the frost mage attempting to locate any items of power the ogre magi might have been using: that had also revealed to Zackel what had turned out to be Grel'borg's bag, and also confirmed SOMETHING there that Zackel had hoped had been knocked free by his ice 'hand rake' trap…
Grel'borg's astounding intelligence, even for an ogre magi, not to mention his incredible skill in countering his ice attacks, even shrugging off his brain freeze attack. Like he knew exactly how to do it.
How the ogre had gone from shrieking pain to furious retaliation in the space of a second, somehow not only blasting Zackel but then copying his ice-rooting technique to try and set up a final blow.
And…the faint hint of motion of something flying past him when he'd blasted Grel'borg with that Frostfire bolt. The motion of something that had bounced over here, where it now lay in the snow.
The white, unique something, that Zackel found himself walking over to.
And the voice spoke, even as Zackel, compelled by something that seemed outside him, reached down.
Well done mage…
Zackel's hand touched it.
The deliberating bolt shot through Zackel's whole body, Zackel rearing back up as his muscles twitched and spasmed. Despite it all, his eyes were locked at what was now within his palm. At the multi-pronged perfectly white crystal that sat there, a faint heat flowing into his palm.
"I knew that my choice of you was well made."
The voice.
Zackel knew the voice.
The whisper in his head that didn't seem to match his own thoughts. The one that constantly spoke through the fears and torments of his past. The one that had haunted him until he'd been forced to throw off his chains.
The voice was in it. In the crystal Grel'borg had had. Had obeyed. Had tried to prove himself to, and failed.
"…who…who are you?" Zackel said.
"I am the Star of Xil'yeh, Zackel Wintersoul. I am your destiny."
