Error correction: Oh, hell. There was an error in the last chapter - originally Eduard had alluded to Ner'zhul being alive in the last chapter, but one of my betas pointed out to me that Ner'zhul had apparently died in one of the novels. Which I didn't know because I hadn't read it. (Yay for most of Blizzard lore not actually happening in the game?) I "fixed" it and put it up, but not long afterwards I remembered that one of my reviewers had mentioned something similar, and went, "Why would they have pointed that out unless... oh, crap."
Yeah, I'd been writing Ner'zhul as alive and totally forgot I had.
The chapter's been edited. Ner'zhul is alive because of rippling effects of Hora's time travel shenanigans? IDK. "It's an AU" is pretty much my equivalent of "because a wizard did it."
I don't like this chapter, at all. I've lately had trouble with the writer's block from hell for weeks, and I've only just crawled out of it at last. So sorry.
Thank you to Coincidencless for looking at this chapter for me! And sorry for being late once again.
Chapter Eight
Fruit, it turned out, was the best way to keep Saya occupied. Sabel steadily fed her oranges and apples, and the girl fed upon them as if they were sweets. "I don't often get fruit," she said, when Onyxia arched an eyebrow. "I get sick of meat."
Saya's rations didn't include meat, but no Bronzeblood ever made sense.
As Saya munched on an apple, Onyxia sat on a boulder beside the altar, using it as a stone desk. One of the blue crystals lay on the surface, with Onyxia's skeletal fingers drumming beside it.
The amount of children that died at the hands of the Brotherhood paled in comparison to the legions of those who died in the Purging. To the legions whose deaths she'd celebrated as "strengthening the Dragonflight."
No. She had to focus. Now was not the time to dwell on Nalice's words. She had a crystal to examine. She picked up the gem in question.
She was interrupted by Sabel as he sat on the altar. "Did you notice, when we were in Sholazar, the amount of fruit that had been picked from the trees?"
"Mmm?" said Onyxia as she passed her hand over the crystal. "That was Serinar."
"No, it was too much fruit." He yawned. "Someone's living there, several someones, and they're not mercs. Mercs live on their rations, not off the land. I could tell they were humanoid because insects and birds don't pull the entire fruit off the tree, and they were too high to be wolvar or gorlocs, and neither do the Taunka live in Sholazar. I do wonder about that, one would think — "
She had to interrupt now or he'd never shut up. "Perhaps it's worth investigating who our visitors are."
"I think so," said Sabel. "And I was thinking, we might be able to solve the problem of the fighting whelps."
"Why do you say that?" said Onyxia.
"Sometimes, in Blade's Edge, I'd notice a problem with the eggs before they hatched," said Sabel. "They would get sick inside the egg sometimes. It happens. Often the disease would make the whelp try to hatch, and if this happened the whelp might die, because something about the magic of an eggshell made it easier to heal the whelpling inside the egg. I found that if I immersed the egg in water, even if it was in the process of hatching, it would stop. The egg would seal the cracks on its own and I could heal the whelp whilst the egg was underwater." Sabel frowned. "The eggs would be made dormant and no more whelps would hatch."
"There is a problem with that."
"Oh? No, I don't think so, I do remember distinctly that — "
"We have nothing to put the water in."
Pause. "Oh."
"It is a good idea, but…" Trust Sabel to forget important details. Onyxia tilted the crystal in her good hand. It felt smooth and cold against her skin.
She closed her eyes. "I need silence."
It had been so long since she had used her magic for anything more than fireballs and shape shifting. Did she still have it?
She did.
From deep within she dredged it up, long seeped from the surface from disuse. The magic she had fed into her staff once upon a time, the magic she had used on Bolvar's amulet. She forced herself to push Bolvar from her mind, to focus on the magic. Maleficent herself had taught Onyxia, once upon a time. Onyxia had power…
And it came to her. Slowly. Steadily. It returned, like hatched whelplings flocking to their mother.
In response, the magic in the crystal flared. It felt diluted, somehow, and yet…
"It's a mana gem." Onyxia frowned, without opening her eyes. "There's power stored in there… perhaps I can withdraw some. Shh."
Like differently coloured puddles, her magic connected with the power inside the gem and mixed together. The power from the gem felt… strange. Foreign, and yet familiar. She focused on the foreign feeling, analysing it, investigating it. It felt strange. Blue, and yet gold, two colours intertwined.
Carefully, she separated them.
The blue was vibrant on its own, pure. It condensed on its own, and the feeling of dilution faded. "Mana," she said. "It's pure mana. And the gold…"
Sabel did not ask questions, did not say anything. Onyxia turned to the golden magic.
The gold did not strengthen. It felt weak, pale, sickly. And it held a link…
"Aha." She opened her eyes. "I have found something. There are two kinds of magic in this crystal." She held it up. "Pure mana, and magic which could either be of the Light or the Titans. The latter, most likely, although it is quite similar to the Light. The Titanic magic is quite weak. It seems that the pylons themselves have lost magic, over time, or else it has been suppressed."
"Curious." Sabel rubbed his chin. "What's happened to it?"
Onyxia frowned. In her hand the blue colour faded from the crystal until it was a pure white. She turned it over into her hands, until she found a blue spot on it. "Ah," she said. "When both kinds of magic are intertwined it ensured the mana was distributed fairly in the crystal, however now…" she showed the spot to Sabel. It was a brighter blue than the entire crystal had been, moments before. "It has condensed together. Fascinating. I feel it once held more mana than it does now. Would it have been entirely blue back then? Before something made it leak?"
"Perhaps it was the destruction of the Lifeblood Pillar," said Sabel. "The pylons did stretch their magic to compensate, and it shows. The area near the Lifeblood Pillar was a wasteland not long ago, and the trees are almost fully-grown already."
"We should investigate the other pylons, when we can," said Onyxia. "There is a link between the Titanic magic in this crystal and the pylon. If we can get a sample of each crystal, we may be able to use them to connect with each pylon. And that…" she couldn't help but smirk, "is progress."
"I wonder why the crystals grow near the pylons," said Sabel. "Perhaps the pylons themselves are leaking, and the crystals are the residue?"
"It could be," said Onyxia. "We will have to look at the pylons themselves again, through the lens of the crystals." She gazed at the blue spot on the crystal. As she touched it with her magic again, she noticed the white parts felt completely empty. She picked at the golden magic, and…
"Ah," she said. As the golden magic unravelled and disappeared, she felt the mana drain from the crystal, turning it pure white. "Fascinating. Remove the protection of the Titanic magic and the mana vanishes completely." She looked up at Sabel, who frowned at the crystal. "This is going to be difficult. If only there was a way we could secure Sholazar…"
Sabel took the crystal from her, peering at it from all angles.
"I wonder," Onyxia murmured. "It is a shame the Lich King is not on our side, having an entire undead army at our disposal would be more than useful."
Sabel snorted. "You may as well ask the Dragonqueen herself for her allegiance, for all the good it would do." The crystal slipped from his fingers and onto the ground. "Damn it." He shook his head. "The Lich King would betray us, and then it would all be over."
"Not if we offered him something the Red Flight could not give him," said Onyxia.
He is dying…
He would not want to die.
"Like what?" Sabel's scowl darkened.
A long silence passed between them, before Onyxia crossed her arms. "You are right. The Red Flight would have already offered…"
"Offered what?" said Sabel.
Onyxia gave him a moment for her implications to sink in.
He would know what she meant.
"What?" Sabel finally said. "That?"
"Yes. That."
"Gods, no. You must be joking."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures." And this would be a desperate measure indeed. "Don't you see? It would benefit us all. We have a powerful being on our side, and he would not have to die."
"He would not accept," said Sabel. "The Argent Crusade would not have allowed anyone nonhuman to become the Lich King. That means he would have lived through the Defias, and everyone in Stormwind knows that's your fault. He wouldn't accept your offer. He would turn around and alert the Red Dragonflight before you could finish speaking, and then it would be over." He shook his head. "I don't support it, Onyxia. Don't. Mortals hate us, and the Steward is no exception."
Onyxia glanced down at her chest. Bolvar's necklace glittered against the blue fabric. She took it from around her neck, and allowed the pendant to hang in front of her eyes.
It was a reminder. A reminder of what the mortals had done to their kin.
Did she truly want peace with the Red Dragonflight? It would mean peace with mortals, but mortals were violent creatures.
"You cannot win a game of chess by playing purely defensively, Sabel," she said. "That was my first mistake. We must not make it again."
"We aren't trying to win," said Sabel. "We're trying not to lose."
"There is a difference?"
"Yes," said Sabel. "Have you ever played to a stalemate in chess? Your rival doesn't win, and you don't lose."
But we don't win, either.
She slipped the pendant into her pocket. She didn't want to touch it again, but she needed something to connect her to the Wyrmbog through her apathy. Thinking of Bolvar's face should have made her angry, should have made her want to throw things, but all she felt was numb. Even killing Aridonna Stoutwell and the draenei had done little for her.
She was uncertain what to feel. Her children were dead. Bolvar had died before she could get her vengeance.
And how could she want it, knowing that she was responsible for the deaths of far more than he?
-o-O-o-
Lirastrasza leaned over the table in the war chamber, the red, wooden heads of pins poking out of the map of Northrend that lay spread before her. It was better than what the mortals had once had. Icecrown's details had been filled in, the mountains of the Storm Peaks had been put in their correct positions at last and the Borean Tundra appeared to have lost a chunk of its landmass. It was the most up-to-date map in the world.
Maps were for mortals. Dragons had never needed maps.
Not until now.
At least a dozen red pins clustered together over the Pit of Nar'jun, with many more scattered across the Dragonblight in twos and threes. Mostly only the Dragonblight had the red pins, although there were a few in Grizzly Hills and even a couple in Crystalsong Forest. As more mercenaries returned with their data, more pins would fill the map, and more entrances to the Nerubian Kingdom would be recorded.
Most mercs had been sent to Icecrown. After all, the Obsidian Dawn would head to the most deserted place possible. They might have even gone farther north than Icecrown, possibly to one of the islands. As soon as the courier got there, the Argent Crusade would be put on guard and patrolling the Nerubian tunnels underneath what was left of the Tournament.
But who knew where they might end up? The Obsidian Dawn weren't mortals, clinging to the surface caves so as not to get lost. They had plunged in deep, risking everything, calling Lirastrasza's bluff. If they got lost, then the Red Flight couldn't hope to follow. Few mortals had a rough idea of the Nerubian Kingdom, and the Dragonflights knew even less.
But they'd find the Obsidian Dawn, and Nalice. It was only a matter of time.
"It's not like the Black Dragonflight to hide like cowards," Lirastrasza murmured. Her fingertips drummed on the map. They were too proud. Once they thought they were safe, they'd return to the surface. They would establish their presence.
And that would be their first mistake.
A knock sounded on the door.
Lira straightened. "Enter."
Eduard Von Andorhal strode through the doorway. His usually neat hair hung over his eyes, narrowed in a scowl.
Eduard never glared like that. He was too polite.
"Steward?" Lira straightened in surprise. "Have you returned?"
She had to be on her guard. Who knew what he was like now? Who knew how deeply the Old Gods' claws had sunk into him?
"Indeed," said the Steward. "Eduard told me I've been under for quite a few days now. And that the Ambassador's under house arrest."
Oh, yes. She'd forgotten about him. It wasn't as if the Ambassador needed feeding, after all.
"We assumed the worst, Steward." Lira clasped her hands behind her back. "That the Old Gods had corrupted you at last. We isolated the Ambassador for fear they would use him."
"It wasn't the Old Gods," said the Steward. "It was Onyxia."
"… Who operates under the corruption of the Old Gods."
"What?" The Steward's scowl deepened. "She's too proud to accept help from anyone other than her brother, let alone anyone more powerful than her. Eduard didn't detect any Old God magic. It was her own doing."
"What happened?"
"She fed my power back to me." The Steward tilted his head. "It triggered a feedback loop, a surge, which was powerful enough to make me unconscious for days. Eduard told me he was working to get it back up ever since, although he had to fight her for it. Sometimes he almost succeeded, but Onyxia managed to imitate him and send me back under." His fists clenched. "That is the last time that bitch gets the better of me."
"And he finally won, I see." Lira frowned at him.
"Indeed." The Steward straightened his shoulders. "I'm more powerful than she is, Lirastrasza, and she knows it. That's why she had to resort to using my own power against me. She cannot manipulate me on her own. Eduard said he finally managed to cut her from my power completely, but as a result, we can't get a lock on her. She's lost to us all. We have no idea where she is or even her status."
Or so you say, thought Lira. There was no telling if the Steward hadn't become a puppet of the Old Gods, if they were manipulating him into saying that right this very second...
How could they trust him? The first major emergency had happened; it was inevitable more would take place.
"I will have to speak with the Dragonqueen about having him released," said Lira. There was little point keeping the Ambassador imprisoned when the Steward could simply possess Eduard's body and wander around like he owned the place, and capturing Eduard in outright hostility would be… bad. The last thing they wanted was to trigger yet another Scourge invasion. They would have to keep a subtle eye on the Steward, make sure he was not up to anything yet. "Please accept my apologies, Steward."
"See that it's taken care of quickly," said the Steward. "He's my eyes and ears here."
And that, thought Lirastrasza, is the problem. She would have to keep the Ambassador's hands tied after his release to keep him out of their business.
How convenient, that he could not tell where Onyxia was. Especially…
Well. He'd been in love with her once, hadn't he? Onyxia would be a fool not to take advantage of that. The humans thought themselves bland compared with the night elves and their nature, the gnomes and their technology, the dwarves and their digging. But they weren't; the key characteristic of the human race was how intensely they loved. Some never truly fell out of it, especially when courtship came to a sudden end, as Bolvar's had.
Onyxia would know that. She would use it. Bolvar felt guilt, as well, for what happened right under his nose; he would search for anything to ease it. He would want any excuse to sympathise with her to end his own wretchedness.
She knew that, too.
"Do not feel guilty, Steward," said Lirastrasza.
"What?" he frowned at her.
"For doing what must be done," said Lira. "Onyxia had to die, and she must die again, to protect everyone we hold dear. Do not feel guilt for that."
"You think I feel guilty over killing her?" The Steward peered at her. "Lirastrasza, when you're a leader, you do what is best for your people. You don't do what is right for you, and you don't even do what is right for the other person. My priority was to protect the people of Stormwind and even Theramore, and I don't regret that."
"Spoken like a true politician," said Lira.
"Lirastrasza, she read my mind like it was a book written for her personal entertainment." His face twisted into a sneer. "I have lived the last few years knowing that the one thing I thought was mine, the one thing I thought was sacred and private, can be played with by any powerful-enough magician. Do you know how many times I wondered if my thoughts were truly my own? If someone had planted them? If, in fact, my entire reality was just some show a mage put on inside my head? Perhaps I'm completely insane and don't even know it."
He snarled, and turned to pace. "Perhaps Onyxia survived, and used her magic to delude me into thinking otherwise, and I'm actually inside a locked room in a madhouse. Sometimes I look at the world around me and all I can see is proof of this — I mean, the Lich King? Really? I'm the Lich King? And I have a bunch of Old Gods trying to take me over? How deluded can I get?"
He shook his head. "This isn't real. It can't be real. Even my little girl might not be real. Nothing can be real. I play along because the consequences would be disastrous if I was wrong."
She could be in your head right now, thought Lirastrasza. Listening to every single thought you have, every whim you feel. And you would never know. This is why we cannot trust you.
"I'm afraid I have bad news, Steward," said Lira. "It concerns the daughter you just mentioned."
"Saya?" the Steward snapped upright. "What's happened to her? Have you found her? Is she alright?"
"She may as well be dead," said Lirastrasza. "She is still in the clutches of the Obsidian Dawn, however that is not the bad news. The bad news is that she has been Ascended."
"Ascended?" Brief confusion fluttered across the Avatar's face. "Ascended, that means...?"
"She has been turned into dragonspawn. No doubt to discourage us from ever recovering her."
So that was what a human looked like when his heart broke.
"What?" Bolvar's voice cracked. "Dragonspawn? They — they turned her into a monster?"
Dragonspawn are not monsters. Lira felt the urge to backhand him, but resisted. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt. He meant to imply that the Black Dragonflight were monsters... not dragons themselves.
Surely?
Of course he did. It wasn't as if he held grudges against the entirety of dragonkind, first for almost tearing his kingdom apart, making him question his sanity and reality, and then preventing him from dying, dooming him to spending the rest of his lifetime as the jailer of the damned, or else have no other purpose to living...
Oh, wait...
"Yes," said Lira, simply. Bolvar covered his face with one of Eduard's hands. "She's one of them now. They made sure of it."
"Are you certain?"
"I could smell it," said Lira. "She and Samia Inkling are definitely dragonspawn. They smell different than humans. I couldn't detect a human scent with them at all when we tracked them into the Nerubian kingdom."
The Avatar placed his hands, calmly, by his side. When he met Lira's eye once more, his expression was...
It was as if a light in him had died.
Good. Lira felt a surge of glee. The only thing stronger than a human's affection for a traitorous ex was their love for a child. If Onyxia had failed to control him as Bolvar had tried to assure Lira, then she would definitely not succeed now. The Old Gods may win after all in time, but Onyxia could do nothing.
And if Onyxia had won, then, well… her job would suddenly become much more difficult.
"What do you want to do about her?" said Lira.
"She is still my daughter," said Bolvar. "And Varian made a promise to me that if something happened to me, he would raise her no matter what. And I'm going to damn well ensure he fulfils that promise. I still want her recovered, at all costs."
"Of course." It wouldn't be hard to comfort him when the girl died, perhaps. He could be soothed with words, could be told it's better for her, this way, than to live as one of them. Don't you understand? Even under Wrynn's guardianship it might still get out what she has become and her life would have been lived in danger...
Blackwhelps were dangerous. Dragonspawn children, and Blackbloods, were still dangerous. No matter how much Bronze there was in there to dilute it.
Bolvar opened his mouth again, when a knock sounded on the door once more. Bolvar stepped aside without another word, and Lira looked to the door. "Enter."
It was Leonardo Withering that entered, this time. Half of his face was scarred by burns. Immediately, Lira saw the pang on Bolvar's face.
"Oh, hello Eddy," Leonardo said, giving Bolvar a quick glance. "Have I interrupted? I wanted to ask a quick question."
"It's alright," said Bolvar. "You… can stay."
"You alright?" Leo arched an eyebrow, and when Bolvar nodded, he turned to Lira. "Sorry, it won't take long, I was wondering if my guildmates had returned yet?"
Lira glanced at the map. Aridonna Stoutwell, Daraan the draenei and Pheledrae Silverfeather had been sent to Sholazar. "I'm afraid not."
Leo frowned. "They said they'd have hearthed back to Dalaran by now and relayed a message, but the Blues said they haven't seen a trace yet."
"They may have ventured too deep into the tunnels and gotten lost," said Lira. "I would not fear. There are so many entrances to the kingdoms they'd stumble their way to the surface eventually."
"If they're not back in a week..." Leo frowned, tugging at one of his sleeves. He glanced back to Bolvar. "If they ran into the Black Flight they'd never get out alive."
"The Black Flight are underground?" said the Steward.
Feeling exposed for every word she spoke, Lira said, "We tracked them until we lost the scent in Azjol'Nerub. They're underground somewhere."
"I hope they're alright…" Leo didn't seem to be talking about the Dawn.
"There is a very prestigious shaman and his wife arriving in Wyrmrest Temple within the week, if you have no qualms about speaking to orcs," said Lirastrasza. "He married recently, and had three of the Aspects as his witnesses in fact. If something happened to your comrades, he would be able to find out."
"Killing the Horde's not on my priority list, no," said Leo. Then he paused, and said, "Would you be talking about Thrall, by any chance?"
"Yes, actually," said Lira. "He's —"
A shriek resonated through the halls outside. The Steward straightened up with a frown. An influx of magic — magic Lira had not felt for weeks — touched her as a golden blur sped into the room, collided with her and flopped to the floor.
Lira staggered back, winded. She took in a deep breath and looked at the new arrival on the floor. Her eyes widened, her pain forgotten. "Bronze!" she said.
A young whelp sat on the floor, his expression stunned. He blinked up at Lira. "Chromie bade me speak with the Reds!" he wheezed. "And so I came!"
"The Bronze Flight has returned at last?" Lira knelt on the ground.
"Almost." The whelp panted and collapsed into a heap, his golden scales glittering in the cold light. "Some of us have returned. But not many. We — I — "
"Slow down." The whelp in front of her was just a child, after all. "Start from the beginning. What happened?" Lira glanced around her. "Ah, Eduard, my apologies…" The poor Steward simply couldn't get a word in edgeways today, it seemed. "I must speak with the whelp in private. May I contact you when we are done?"
"There is no more to speak of, in any case." The Steward bowed. "Thank you."
"C'mon Eddy," said Leo. "Let's get lunch."
The Steward blinked, and offered Leo a weak smile. "I don't eat."
"Then you can sit there and stare at me while I eat," said Leo. "It's been a while since we caught up, hasn't it?"
"Yes." There was a note of sadness in the Steward's voice as Leo slung an arm around his neck and led him away. "It has been… quite a while. I have missed you, friend."
It was a shame that Leo would never know the truth. It had been the Frostmoon Federation, after all, that was present at the Lich King's death.
As they left, Lira looked back to the whelp. His breath had slowed and his eyes seemed a little brighter. "My name is Nevedormu," he said. "Chromie sent me."
Chromie? Brilliant. "Has she got good news?"
"The Aspect has almost returned," said Nevedormu. "The timeline was reclaimed enough to allow me to slip through, but nobody could follow. Nozdormu has been able to access other timelines, but not this one yet. The Infinites have been withholding him, but he will be free soon, by your perspective, although it will take quite a while yet from ours." The whelp straightened, his little rump on the floor, looking up at Lira. "They have been trying to corrupt him. It will not work. He will be free."
"When can I expect the rest of the Flight to return?"
"Soon," said the whelp. "But Nozdormu's inability to return to this period of the timeline means… news. More news. Chromie insists it is not as bad as it sounds, however."
"What is it?" Lira folded her legs underneath her as the whelp adjusted his position.
"The Heir will never make it to Corastrasza," said Nevedormu. "That was found out quite recently from my perspective. Neither will Deathwing recover the decoy. Both did not end up where they intended to go."
"Why not?"
"Interference," said Nevedormu. The wings that he had allowed to collapse by his side in exhaustion folded on his back. "Chromie informed me that although the Infinites intended for my Flight to be unable to recover the eggs, she discovered that they did the right thing for once. Attempts to undo their actions resulted in a tear of the fabric of the universe, which was hastily repaired."
"Curious." Lira clasped her hands. "Very curious. I take it, then, that the Reds are not to interfere with these eggs?"
"No," said Nevedormu. "Chromie said they will end up where they are supposed to, but it is not the Reds who will take them there."
"Can I ask who?"
Nevedormu shook his head. "Chromie tells me that she will contact the Dragonqueen when the time is right, and reveal all."
Bloody Bronzes, always pretending to be gods. They'd often interfered in the past, witholding information from even the Dragonqueen to allow favourable events to pass...
But then again, it had all been for good. The Bronzes only told what they had to. They knew what they were doing. Nobody died without reason if a Bronze was involved.
So why did she feel so annoyed? Why did the sudden urge to rip the wings off the little whelp in front of her rise within her?
She scowled. What was wrong with her lately? They were doing their job. She rubbed her head. "Why can't we know now?"
She knew what the answer would be, and Nevedormu did not disappoint. "Because the world is not ready yet." He flexed his wings. "Chromie tells me that her message to the Dragonqueen is the next and last time the Bronzes will interfere without permission. The rest is in everyone else's hands."
"Can you at least tell me what this information is about, if nothing else?" said Lira. "Something vague?"
"The Black Messiah," said Nevedormu. "What happened to him. Where he went. Where you will be able to find him at the right time. He mustn't reach Corastrasza. The decoy, too, has his own part to play."
"Neither are female?" Lira gazed down at Nevedormu. "Good. We don't want them breeding." She brushed down her front. "I expect you will not tell us where the Obsidian Dawn is?"
"No," said the whelp. "I cannot."
Lira sighed. "I am not surprised."
"Everything will culminate in the right moment," said Nevedormu. "The Bronzes will only interfere once more, and that is when Chromie comes to speak to your mother. Not a moment before, not a moment later."
-o-O-o-
The sky was a pale blue dome far above them, smeared with the occasional cloud. The pines of the Howling Fjord whooshed by underneath them, protecting the dark green grass below. Indigosa twisted over and sped into a gorge as Samia clung to her back. Bones crunched underneath Indigosa's claws as she landed among burnt-out huts.
Samia fell off.
The ground broke her fall.
"Ow."
"At last," said Indigosa. She straightened up, taller than the dilapidated, vrykul-built hut beside her. "We have arrived. It appears that although we are late, the ship is in. This is a relief."
Samia tried to stand up and failed. "Ow."
Indigosa's tail curled around her. "Remember, the man in question you are looking for is both dark haired and skinned. He wore civillian clothes when the Ambassador saw him, so he could be dressed in any fashion of armour when you meet him."
Samia managed to stand up, but when she tried to walk her legs decided that was much too painful. They'd had to fly through the night rather than stop to allow Samia to sleep. Samia had tried to summon the spirits of the air to give them a tail wind but, of course, they'd ignored her. The winds of Northrend had, instead, buffetted them from all angles for the entire journey.
"Ow," said Samia. "Uh, Indi, that could apply to anyone."
"He had the look of a youth," said Indigosa, not seeming to notice how stiff her passenger was. "Not many winters older than you. On board a ship there will be less chance of one who would resemble him."
"Say that in Draconic, please, rather than Ye Olde Speech?" Fucking dragons.
Indigosa sighed. "Less passengers on a ship means he will stick out more." She shook her head. "Best of luck to thee, Samia, I must depart." I've got to go, you mean. "The Steward has long awoken and has attempted to find me for days. It is time I put an end to his stress."
"Ow. Thanks, by the way. Bye."
It took a few more attempts, long after Indigosa was gone, before Samia could bend her legs without pain and staggered in the direction of Valgarde.
With only half a moment's thought, Samia changed her form. Her clothing was replaced by a man's leather gear. She touched her face and felt the burn underneath her fingertips.
"Hello?" she ventured. When Leo's came out, she said, "Shit, I can never get used to that. Valgarde, ho! Let's see how fast I can fuck this up!"
She giggled. Hearing Leo giggle instead of her only cracked her up even more.
Damn, everyone was going to think Leo was insane after she was done with borrowing his appearance!
Valgarde was made of a single building, a few tents and a dock. The building looked as if it had seen better days, with several blue tiles missing and what looked like a poorly patched-up hole in one wall. The tents looked cleaner, if somewhat chilly.
And at the dock was a ship, its white sails furled.
When Samia spotted a guard lolling by the gates she'd just come through, she approached him. He spotted her and snapped to attention. Aw, crap, what was the proper response? To return the salute? She did so awkwardly, but he didn't seem phased. "Is that the ship to the Eastern Kingdoms?" she said.
"Yes, sir," said the guard. "It's been delayed, waiting for a passenger."
"Is it too late to purchase passage?"
"For you it's free, sir!" said the guard. "For all you've done for Valgarde."
"Er," said Sam. She wasn't Leo, after all. "No, it's alright — "
"We insist, sir!" said the guard. "You know what the captain's like, if he finds out you're trying to sneak payment in again he'll feel insulted."
"Ah, yes, of course," said Sam. "Well, thank you. Who are we waiting on?"
"Frostmoon Federation, sir," said the guard. "They're waiting at the dock for one last recruit." The guard rolled his eyes. "You know what they're like, sir..."
She didn't, but she said, "Well, it's turned out in my favour. Thank you!"
"No problem, sir," the guard squeaked. "There's a few of yours hanging out there, too. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you."
Aw, crap. Why was she surprised? It was practically a rule of the universe; take someone's form and you were guaranteed to attract the people that knew them like a magnet. "Brilliant."
Much to Samia's displeasure, everyone at the dock recognised her.
All of them.
Including the few merchants clustered there, whose eyes lit up as they beamed at her.
Gods freaking damn it.
"Leo!" called a shrill voice. "Sweetie!"
"Oh gods," said another. "I'm going to be sick."
By the Titans, out of every possible member of the Brotherhood of Cinders she had to run into, why did it have to be Clarisse? A dwarven priest Samia didn't recognise stood beside her, as well as the gnome from Blackrock. That had been so many years ago… "We wasn't expecting you, why didn't you call ahead once you were in range? We wasn't expecting you!"
"Stop speaking like an idiot," said the dwarf, who'd been the first to complain at Clarisse's voice. "You're embarrassing."
The only way it could have been worse was if she'd run into Lana Stoutwell instead.
"Ran into some trouble," said Sam.
"New pack, I see." Clarisse's eyes settled on the one on her back. "What happened to the old one?"
"The same trouble," Sam grunted. "I'd rather not talk about it."
"As long as you're not injured..." The dwarven priest glared at her, as if Leonardo regularly got hurt on purpose just to spite him.
"I'm fine," said Sam. "Got all patched up so it's no biggie."
"You got hurt?" said Clarisse. "Oh, no! Poor Leo!"
"Can you please kick her out of the guild?" said the dwarven priest. "I will take over healing duty for the rest of my life if I never have to hear this idiot again!"
Clarisse ruffled the dwarf's hair. If looks could kill, the dwarf could stare at a necromancer and render them incapable of resurrecting the dead ever again. "Aww, Gavel, I know you really love me."
"Die in a fire."
Sam smirked half-heartedly and leaned against the post. The number one rule of digsuise, Sabel had taught her, was to pretend as if you belonged there. "People who speak the truth," said Sabel, "take it for granted they will believed. Only liars worry about not being believed. You can disguise yourself among the Stormwind Guard even when they know each other intimately as long as you fake it well enough that you're supposed to be there, and they won't even bat an eyelid. In fact they'll introduce themselves and play cards with you. If you're pretending to be someone, the same thing will happen — don't get nervous, and the other person will just assume the person you're pretending to be is in a funny mood."
Samia quickly noticed the non-merchant group of people on the dock. There was a distinct divide between them and the Brotherhood, Samia noticed next, because they were all glaring at them. Although they were in civillian dress, each wore the tabard of the Frostmoon Federation. A night elven man glared at her openly.
Gavel muttered in Dwarvish beside her.
Samia shrugged at the night elf. "What?"
"Fancy seeing you here," said the night elf. "I didn't expect you. And, evidently, your revolting girlfriend didn't either."
"Oh gods," said Gavel. "You are not sleeping with her. Please tell me you're not sleeping with her. That is disgusting, I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot barge pole."
"Darlin'," said Clarisse. "I am a wild cat in the bedroom."
Shit, shit, shit, was Leo sleeping with her? Samia opted to ignore the comment. "I thought I'd drop by and surprise you all. So, surprise!"
Leo wasn't typically a silly person, but it won a snicker from Clarisse and a scowl from the night elf. Was she risking too much, acting like this? Her eyes crept over the night elf's company. Two draenei, a woman whose robes looked strangely posh, and —
A man. Dark skin, dark eyes, glaring in her direction with such venom Samia wouldn't have been surprised if she'd keeled over on the spot.
Aha. So that was him. It had to be; the only other dark-skinned men with them were clustered with the merchants. So Alexstrasza had entrusted one of the eggs to the Frostmoon Federation.
But was this the man fated to die for a fake egg, or was this the man who would take the Heir to Corastrasza? Her eyes slid along and found a pile of luggage next to the ship, where a magnificent, brightly-coloured parrot sat on guard.
A kaliri. Sam knew those birds. On Outland, once, Sabel had spent a stint after Sam's Ascension as an arakkoa. Naturally, Sam had to take the form as well. The magnificent kaliri were the Arakkoan equivalent of dogs, both beloved pets and hunting companions. Only a hunter could tame an adult, although it wouldn't surprise Sam if one of the Federation had nicked a baby bird and raised it.
Still, she had to assume the worst; that one of the casually-dressed Federation in front of her was a hunter. Worst case scenario, it was the egg carrier.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"What a special surprise," the night elf deadpanned. "And your guildmates told me you wouldn't be here."
"They didn't know I was coming," said Samia. "I've had a change of plans. Heading back to Stormwind to take care of something."
"And you didn't teleport from Dalaran?"
Fuuuuck.
"I've got plenty of time," said Samia. "Couldn't find a mage — "
"In Dalaran? The city of mages?"
" — That wasn't charging an arm and a leg." Samia glared at the night elf. "I thought I'd just travel with friends. Plenty of time."
"I'm guessing you forgot Clarisse was here," Gavel deadpanned.
"Well," said Samia. She paused for a beat. "Yeah."
"Little wonder the Brotherhood is so incompetent if its leader isn't even taking the opportunity to do some extra work," said the night elf.
"There's little point working myself to death," said Samia. "Besides, why didn't you teleport from Dalaran? I thought you were all rolling in it."
The night elf gestured to the people in his company. "With the exception of John — " he gestured to the man who must be the egg-carrier, " — all of these people are new recruits. I'm taking the chance to train them on the voyage over. We did expect to have the entire vessel to ourselves, but... well, one cannot have everything."
"I dread to think of what would happen to the ship if you didn't have a crew to steer it," said Samia. "Leaving without a crew would be very silly, you know."
"Don't be a smartarse, I wasn't counting the crew."
Clarisse giggled. "I love it when you antagonise people. Love it."
"Stop hitting on the guild master," said Gavel.
"He can be my master any day."
"Well, that's subtle as hell."
"Yes, well," said the night elf. "One of our recruits is running late, so we arranged for the boat to be postponed. He should be here within the hour."
"And then the boredom can end," said Clarisse. "You are such a selfless guild, holding everything up on behalf of one person and all that. Simply selfless!"
"Twisty," said Gavel, looking to the gnome, who blinked. "If Clarisse starts a fight, turn her into a sheep. I don't want to waste my supplies patching up the Frostmoon Fuckers."
"Then use the Light," said Clarisse.
"Too good for those bastards."
"Then let 'em die!"
The men and women of the Frostmoon Federation rolled their eyes. "Children," snorted John. "What the hell's taking Chris so long?"
It was two mind-numbing hours before the final recruit of the Frostmoon Federation, "Chris", arrived — and one other. A woman trailed behind him.
"Sorry," the new recruit said. "There were a few travelling merchants that needed my protection. This is Sarah, she's coming with us, and that's Lily with her."
Only then did Samia see the baby the woman held. The baby smiled at her.
Samia felt as if she'd been punched.
As the crew set up the gangplank and the passengers trailed up to the deck, Clarisse touched her arm. "Eh?" she said. "Leo? Are you alright?"
Samia tore her eyes from the baby. "Yeah," she croaked. She felt hollow, as if some hole had opened up inside her and tried to turn her inside out. "I'm fine. Tired as hell, though."
Clarisse touched her gently again. "Alright," she said. "Come on."
Her look was far too tender for Samia's liking.
Oh, fuck me, thought Samia.
She paused, and then mentally added, on second thought, please don't.
