Daemon
Chapter 3
By: Dark-Elk
"From bad to worse, eh Mordecai?" asked Arthur as he stood next to the mage, both of them studying the assembling troops.
Mordecai nodded absently, lost in thought as he flipped through a thick tome, the pages nearly moldering in the moist air of Doranbrad's night. One hand grasped the spine of the tome, while the other was raised above, little flickers of green flame sparking from his fingers to light the pages. He mumbled a few words to himself before he frowned. A few moments of this went on before he snapped his fingers, extinguishing the flames. He turned to Arthur, the look on his eyes seeming to acknowledge his presence for the first time. "How many men do we have?"
Arthur raised a gauntleted hand to his brow and scanned over the crowd as the soldiers and militia forced themselves into the ring mail underarmor and the plate that rested atop it. In the far corner, a line of armored men were awaiting the dwarven blacksmiths as they sharpened the swords, polishing them until the moonlight glinted off them brilliantly. "Five hundred, maybe six hundred."
"Where's Edgar? I haven't had time to see to the disposition of the demons, so we'll have to rely on what he saw," Mordecai said as he turned around, looking for the assassin.
"I'm over here, Mordecai," Edgar called from one of the lines. "My weapons were a tad rusty, so I figured I'd get the dwarves to clean them up some."
Mordecai closed the distance between the two quickly; a rift formed between him and Edgar as the soldiers pulled back from the mage. "I need to know how many demons you saw. Even a rough estimate would help us."
The line moved forward a few paces, Edgar shuffling along with it. "I'd say maybe a host of eight hundred to one thousand," he muttered softly
Mordecai's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to walk back to Arthur, but his pace was noticeably slowed.
"So, what of it then, Mordecai? We're outnumbered, aren't we?" Arthur asked lightly.
"Indeed. I had hoped we were somewhat evenly matched, but we're outnumbered by anywhere from three to five hundred."
"That's not too bad," Arthur started, before he was interrupted by Mordecai.
"It's worse than it sounds. I've heard most demons summoned recently were spellcasters. That nearly doubles their strength. We're going to need every mage this city has. Have Anya go speak to them, and get them down here down here immediately."
"She hasn't come back yet," Arthur said gravely. "Maybe those loose demons got to her."
Mordecai ran a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly as he tried to process this new problem. "I don't think so," he finally said. "She's much stronger than you might have heard. Not a whit compared to her grandmother, mind you," he allowed. "But then again, not many in this age are."
"Should we send a search party for her? Some of the men are fully prepared, and having them run a errand like this might ease their tensions some."
"Very well. You pick the men. I've got to go speak with the dwarves. Perhaps some of their long rifles are still in good repair."
Arthur wandered off into the throng of soldiers, calling out for various men as he went. Mordecai turned to seek out the dwarven enclave, only to be stopped short by a dwarf standing behind him.
"I'm Dakkon Brownbeard. I heard what you need. My people will be prepared shortly," the dwarf said curtly.
Mordecai blinked a few times, still slightly stunned by the silent appearance of the dwarf. "How many are there?" Mordecai asked.
"Less than five dozen. I'll lead them, though. It's been a while," Dakkon said as he hefted a warhammer off of his back, "But I think I can still swing this a bit." The dwarf sketched a salute and wandered back off into the city.
Arthur tapped Mordecai on the shoulder. "The men are ready."
Mordecai whirled around quickly. "I wish people would quit surprising me," he said in good humor, and then turned to the assembled party of a dozen fully plated men.
One of them, a dark blue plume of feathers attached to his helmet, stepped forward and said, "We're ready to find Lady Anya, Mordecai."
"Find her quickly," Mordecai ordered, and watched silently as the men filtered through the crowd and into the city.
Mordecai glanced at Arthur. "I'll see to speaking with the mages."
Arthur turned and gaped at him. "You?"
"We cannot afford any delays in preparing our defense. I'd like to hope that the elder mages will recognize the need and overlook any differences they have with me," Mordecai said stiffly.
"These mages, they're a temperamental bunch from what I've seen. I don't know if they'll forgive and forget as easily as you make it sound," Arthur replied dubiously.
"I don't intend to ask for forgiveness, for I've done nothing that needs forgiving, and I don't wish for them to forget me," Mordecai said and then flashed a slight grin at Arthur.
"Light be with you then," Arthur said and clapped Mordecai heavily on his back. "If you aren't back in an hour, I'll come up there and tear them mages limb from limb for you, eh?"
Mordecai shook his head in amusement and said, "Don't go too hard on them, Arthur. If they decide to attack me, I wouldn't be downed without a struggle. Any mages left would be too weak to even glare at you." With that he drew his cloak closer around his body, shutting out the sharp chill that was settling on Doranbrad as the evening drew on.
"Lady Anya! Lady Anya!" called a pair of the search party, who had been tasked with combing the dark alleyways of the south end of the city.
"Just our luck to be picked for this, eh Jorus?" one soldier said as his search partner with his plated elbow.
"Could be worse, I guess. Better than standing around shaking our bones all night 'till the demons attack," Jorus replied.
"You worried about the demons?"
"Nah, not at all, Loran. They can't be all as bad as the legends make them out to be, right?"
"I dunno. My grandda told me about fighting in the last Great War against the elves and the undead, and he said the demons were the worst enemy of all. Massive titans of pure fire and power, he said, nearly unstoppable," Loran said with a shiver.
"That's when the Legion was still strong, mind you! It's been years; the demons have to have weakened some since," Jorus scoffed.
A rustling noise, like that of coarse leather scraping across cobblestones, made both of the soldiers tense and halt their advance as they both turned and scanned the narrow alley surrounding them. After a few moments, the pair shrugged in near unison and warily began forward again, their eyes taking turns furtively darting around the alley.
"Wonder what that was. . ." Jorus started before being cut off by Loran.
"Shh. . .you hear that? Sounds like whispering!" Loran hissed.
Jorus stopped again and listened hard. His muscles seemed to deflate as he nodded his agreement; it surely sound like faint whispering was filling the alleyway. "I don't like this, Loran. . ." he started again, but this time was cut off not by Loran, but by a guttural, wordless curse that echoed down the alley.
Both of the men drew their swords, the tips waggling uncertainly, easily betraying the fear of the two. "Come out, whoever you are! Hands in the air!" Loran yelled, his voice nearly a hysterical shriek.
Another curse choked its way down the alley, forcing the pair to jump slightly in fear. "On three we charge down the alley, okay Loran? Whatever's down there won't expect that." Jorus hissed. "One, two, THREE!" Jorus thundered as his legs pumped and he began hurtling down the alleyway, weaving as he tried to avoid stacked crates and trash.
He skidded to a stop as he saw a faint light growing at the end of the alley. The glow separated itself into lines that seemed to form a rune of some sort. Jorus began to call out, but his voice was choked off as he was flung into the air and thrust backwards, colliding with Loran, who was just now reaching him.
A yell of triumph echoed down the alley as the pair slowly stood, grasping the hilts of their swords so tightly that Loran wondered insanely for a moment whether he would be able to bend his with his bare hands. Another rune symbol, this time in blazing blue fire, sketched itself in the air and then streaked towards Loran, impacting on his chest and slicing cleanly through the breastplate. Loran screamed in agony as Jorus backed away from him in horror.
Then Loran's body exploded into an expanding pillar of blue flame. Jorus had just enough time to raise his sword before the column reached him, disintegrating all trace of his body.
A rough laugh, followed by a deeply intoned "Fools!" echoed down the hallway, before footsteps began retreating away from where the pair had fallen.
"Mordecai, is it? I'll inform the elders that you've come," replied the guard sitting outside of the mage quarters, his voice disinterested. He stood from his chair, stretched his legs for a few moments, and then slid through the doorway behind him.
"Thank you. Please, hurry," Mordecai called after him, lowering his cowl. Torches flickered in scones that covered the rough stone walls, and along one wall a giant, intricately woven tapestry depicted the great sorceress Aegwynn's epic victory against the powerful demonlord Sargeras. Her hands were outstretched in a casting gesture, and a beam of rainbow light was streaking through what appeared to be a fierce blizzard. Dead bodies of thousand of demons littered the ground, and faintly in the sky a great flight of dragons could be seen flapping furiously, eager to be away from the legendary battle.
"Beautiful, isn't it? Nice craftsmanship," a voice drifted through the room. An elderly man slowly stepped through the doorway, waving at the tapestry. "Always been one of my favorites."
"It is indeed a delight to look at," Mordecai agreed thoughtfully, his hand stroking his chin as he gazed upon the tapestry. He made a sort of appreciative noise before he turned and smiled at the man. "I don't believe we've ever met. My name is..."
"I know well who you are, mageslayer Mordecai of the order of the Kalel'Nor. I believe that's what your kind call yourselves, isn't it?"
"It is," Mordecai agreed again, his voice noticeably more stiff than before as the smile faded from his face. "Who are you?"
"I am Naroc, mage of the order of the Kirin Tor," the mage said slowly, his eyes absorbing Mordecai fully as he spoke. "Perhaps you may have heard of me during your travels, in the course of your...work."
"Indeed, the name Naroc is one known to my ears," Mordecai acknowledged and outstretched his hand. "We are well met."
"Perhaps," Naroc replied curtly, brushing away Mordecai's offered hand. "The elders are prepared to see you now. Follow me this way." With that, Naroc turned and walked through the corridor he had come from.
Mordecai shook his head slightly in annoyance as he allowed himself one more generous glance at the tapestry, savoring its every detail. He tore his eyes away from it with great reluctance, and he followed Naroc.
The corridor was narrow and dark; it really was little more than a slit in the wall, with no room to hold candles. Mordecai raised his hand and muttered a few words quietly as he walked, nodding in satisfaction as a furiously swirling sphere of fire appeared, hovering a few inches above his outstretched palm. The light didn't reveal much in the corridor, but it made the rather uneven floor easier to see. Mordecai was sure he avoided many painful spills at the hands of the poorly laid cobblestones.
Finally, a shaft of light appeared at the end of the corridor. Mordecai closed his palm over the floating sphere, softly hissing as the fire extinguished itself. He flexed his hand experimentally a few times as he came to the exit of the corridor, and then looked up, only to find Naroc had disappeared.
"Hello?" Mordecai called out, feelings of unease knotting his stomach. Was this a trap? He wouldn't put it past these mages; descendents of the original Kirin Tor seemed to loathe and despise followers of the Kalel'Nor, although he supposed their hatred was justified. He had been forced to slay more than a few of the surviving Kirin Tor mages. "We need to speak immediately."
"Why should we speak with one such as you, Mordecai? One who has wandered the crossroads of the world for nine years, hunting and killing our best and brightest mages deserves nothing but death," a voice echoed from above Mordecai.
"Listen!" Mordecai bellowed, his words echoing loudly in the great room he had found himself in. "There are demons outside the city, a massive army the likes of which hasn't been seen since the last Great War. They are coming to wipe this city out of existence, and unless you aid myself and the people of Doranbrad, there will be nothing to stop them."
A barked syllable echoed back at him, and Mordecai gasped in surprise as he felt his body streak backwards, impacting heavily on the wall. His breath all but gone, he managed to rasp out, "Why don't you listen to reason?"
"The Kalel'Nor embrace lies and half-truths to serve their own ends; such knowledge is common here. We know all too well what you are capable of, and what you have done during your crusade."
Mordecai's body slid slowly down the wall, landing heavily on the cool stone floor. He took a few deep breaths, attempting to regain his wind. He cast his anger-filled eyes up towards where he had felt the attack come from. Finally, he spoke. "I do not care what Lady Anya has told you. She speaks from the perspective of a spurned lover, and her words are far more vitriolic than is true. Her relation to Jaina Proudmoore should not blind you to the very obvious dangers that threaten this city now."
A cluster of old mages stepped out through the wall at the end of the room, and Mordecai resisted the urge to rub his eyes in surprise. The optical illusion was effective, though he had seen better in his travels. "Mageslayer Mordecai, on pain of death, do you have conclusive evidence of this demonic threat to the city of Doranbrad?"
"I would not be here if I didn't," Mordecai said as he slowly stood; pain was flashing through each and every joint of his body, a cruel reminder of the short flight he had just undertaken. "Use a viewing lens and look to the east. You will see enough campfires to melt all the ice in Northrend. If your glass is powerful enough, you can make out the demons."
"Very well, Mordecai," said one of the mages as he stepped back through the wall. One of the remaining elders stared venomously at Mordecai for a few more moments before casting his gaze to the window and the night that was visible through it. "I find it convenient that a demonic army would choose to attack Doranbrad so soon after your arrival. A suspicious man might level the accusation that you are directly related to this supposed assault."
"You accuse me, a sworn lifelong member of the Kalel'Nor, an order devoted to hunting down corrupt mages to prevent the summoning of the remnants of the Burning Legion, of summoning or controlling enough demons to level Doranbrad?" Mordecai asked incredulously. "Though my powers are great, I don't believe I could summon even a tenth of the army that prepares to obliterate this city."
"The demons came from somewhere, mageslayer!" retorted the mage, returning his baleful stare to Mordecai. His lip drew back slightly in a sneer.
"Precisely an issue I wished to take up with you and the other members of your council. Thus far in my journey, I have come across a staggering number of magi who have dabbled in the dark arts. I feel it to be very likely that perhaps someone in Doranbrad is at least partially behind this demonic host. Surely you've visited the room on the other side of the castle where a demon was obviously summoned."
"I have," admitted the elder. "I see no evidence of involvement of any Kirin Tor mages."
"Then you weren't looking hard enough," Mordecai replied simply. "Even Lady Anya accepted my supposition."
"Lady Anya is neither a member of this council, nor is she held in a favorable light at the time. Against the wishes of the council, she remains in the city, seemingly hunting down this summoned demon."
Mordecai began to reply, and then paused. A frown spread across his face as he realized the full import of the elder's words. "Lady Anya disobeyed the council?"
"Very directly, yes."
"Many things must have changed since last we met, then. I never imagined her capable of such open rebellion," Mordecai said thoughtfully. "Some of the soldiers are looking for her currently. When they find her, I'll make it known to her that the council is displeased with her."
The elder started to reply, but then fell silent as the mage who had left returned, his face slightly pale. "The mageslayer speaks the truth. There is a host of demons outside the city. You didn't say there were so nigh, though."
"They weren't. When Edgar saw them, they were still a camped a few miles away. Unless..." Mordecai started, his voice filled with dread. He stepped forward a few paces and glanced out the window. "It's past midnight now. Of course they would attack now."
"Issue a call to every mage in the academy, Norac!" one of the elders who had remained silent thus far thundered out. "Time is short now!" Norac reappeared in the chamber and nodded curtly at the council. A blue shaft of light appeared around his body, and in a few moments he vanished.
"Mageslayer, our grievances are far from settled. However, in the interest of the city, it seems most prudent to set them aside for the moment. We will deal with this matter when we have won this battle."
"If, you mean." Mordecai said softly as a piercing blue light invaded the room, washing over all the men within. Mordecai's heart leapt into his throat as the teleportation spell completed itself, and he closed his eyes in preparation for what he knew to be a very disconcerting experience.
When he opened them again, they were met by the massive main gate of Doranbrad, behind which the defenders of the city were finishing their final preparations. Edgar raised a gloved hand and waved nonchalantly at Mordecai. He took a moment to compose himself and to recover from the disorientation he always seemed to experience whenever he teleported. As he had nearly expected, Arthur's hand landed heavily upon his sore shoulder, eliciting a quiet groan of pain from Mordecai as he turned to face the paladin.
"I don't know how you did it, you lucky bloke, but all the mages are here now," Arthur said nearly jovially before his face fell. "All, that is, but Lady Anya."
"The search party hasn't found her yet?" Mordecai coughed; teleportation seemed to have the side effect of drying his throat and mouth completely on only him.
Arthur grabbed a flask from his side and slid it into Mordecai's hand. "Drink. No, they didn't find hide nor hair of her. Come to think of it, they should all have reported in by now."
Mordecai tilted the flask up to his mouth and downed the fiery ale within gratefully, though his gullet nearly immediately protested the harsh treatment. He coughed again, this time not from a dry mouth, but from the strength of the ale. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and smiled slightly at Arthur as he extended the flask back to the paladin. "The dwarves'll be angry if you keep nipping off with their fuels and mistaking them for spirits."
Arthur laughed heartily and clapped Mordecai on the back again as he reached forward to grab hold of the flask. "It's good you can find humor in dark times as these. Shall I send out a few more men after Lady Anya?"
"I wouldn't see how a few more men could hurt," Mordecai replied.
Arthur pointed to a few men that were standing nearby, apparently already prepared to go join the search, and watched in satisfaction as the men began marching off. "Everyone's here now, Mordecai, except her. All that's left is the demons."
A fierce cry went up from the city walls as the archers let loose a volley of arrows, and then began grabbing at the white-feathered shafts that were resting in the quivers at their feet, nocking and firing the arrows in a furious rain.
Mordecai glanced up to the walls and then back to Arthur. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"
Author's Note:
My many and most sincere apologies for how long it has been since last I updated. Life has a tendency to get bad all very quickly, as I'm sure you may know. I'm plugging along on all my writing again thanks to a renewed sense of...something...*shrugs*
And for anyone who frequents http://www.shatteredenigma.com may know that my story was recently second place in a bid for first against The Forgotten One in a contest to become a Featured Story. I believe the only reason I failed was because this chapter wasn't there. I think this chapter is vital in both it's continued painting of my characters, and of conflicts to come.
Thank you, reader. Kindly leave a review, because I would love to get some feedback on this story.
Fight on,
Dark-Elk
Chapter 3
By: Dark-Elk
"From bad to worse, eh Mordecai?" asked Arthur as he stood next to the mage, both of them studying the assembling troops.
Mordecai nodded absently, lost in thought as he flipped through a thick tome, the pages nearly moldering in the moist air of Doranbrad's night. One hand grasped the spine of the tome, while the other was raised above, little flickers of green flame sparking from his fingers to light the pages. He mumbled a few words to himself before he frowned. A few moments of this went on before he snapped his fingers, extinguishing the flames. He turned to Arthur, the look on his eyes seeming to acknowledge his presence for the first time. "How many men do we have?"
Arthur raised a gauntleted hand to his brow and scanned over the crowd as the soldiers and militia forced themselves into the ring mail underarmor and the plate that rested atop it. In the far corner, a line of armored men were awaiting the dwarven blacksmiths as they sharpened the swords, polishing them until the moonlight glinted off them brilliantly. "Five hundred, maybe six hundred."
"Where's Edgar? I haven't had time to see to the disposition of the demons, so we'll have to rely on what he saw," Mordecai said as he turned around, looking for the assassin.
"I'm over here, Mordecai," Edgar called from one of the lines. "My weapons were a tad rusty, so I figured I'd get the dwarves to clean them up some."
Mordecai closed the distance between the two quickly; a rift formed between him and Edgar as the soldiers pulled back from the mage. "I need to know how many demons you saw. Even a rough estimate would help us."
The line moved forward a few paces, Edgar shuffling along with it. "I'd say maybe a host of eight hundred to one thousand," he muttered softly
Mordecai's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to walk back to Arthur, but his pace was noticeably slowed.
"So, what of it then, Mordecai? We're outnumbered, aren't we?" Arthur asked lightly.
"Indeed. I had hoped we were somewhat evenly matched, but we're outnumbered by anywhere from three to five hundred."
"That's not too bad," Arthur started, before he was interrupted by Mordecai.
"It's worse than it sounds. I've heard most demons summoned recently were spellcasters. That nearly doubles their strength. We're going to need every mage this city has. Have Anya go speak to them, and get them down here down here immediately."
"She hasn't come back yet," Arthur said gravely. "Maybe those loose demons got to her."
Mordecai ran a hand through his hair, tousling it slightly as he tried to process this new problem. "I don't think so," he finally said. "She's much stronger than you might have heard. Not a whit compared to her grandmother, mind you," he allowed. "But then again, not many in this age are."
"Should we send a search party for her? Some of the men are fully prepared, and having them run a errand like this might ease their tensions some."
"Very well. You pick the men. I've got to go speak with the dwarves. Perhaps some of their long rifles are still in good repair."
Arthur wandered off into the throng of soldiers, calling out for various men as he went. Mordecai turned to seek out the dwarven enclave, only to be stopped short by a dwarf standing behind him.
"I'm Dakkon Brownbeard. I heard what you need. My people will be prepared shortly," the dwarf said curtly.
Mordecai blinked a few times, still slightly stunned by the silent appearance of the dwarf. "How many are there?" Mordecai asked.
"Less than five dozen. I'll lead them, though. It's been a while," Dakkon said as he hefted a warhammer off of his back, "But I think I can still swing this a bit." The dwarf sketched a salute and wandered back off into the city.
Arthur tapped Mordecai on the shoulder. "The men are ready."
Mordecai whirled around quickly. "I wish people would quit surprising me," he said in good humor, and then turned to the assembled party of a dozen fully plated men.
One of them, a dark blue plume of feathers attached to his helmet, stepped forward and said, "We're ready to find Lady Anya, Mordecai."
"Find her quickly," Mordecai ordered, and watched silently as the men filtered through the crowd and into the city.
Mordecai glanced at Arthur. "I'll see to speaking with the mages."
Arthur turned and gaped at him. "You?"
"We cannot afford any delays in preparing our defense. I'd like to hope that the elder mages will recognize the need and overlook any differences they have with me," Mordecai said stiffly.
"These mages, they're a temperamental bunch from what I've seen. I don't know if they'll forgive and forget as easily as you make it sound," Arthur replied dubiously.
"I don't intend to ask for forgiveness, for I've done nothing that needs forgiving, and I don't wish for them to forget me," Mordecai said and then flashed a slight grin at Arthur.
"Light be with you then," Arthur said and clapped Mordecai heavily on his back. "If you aren't back in an hour, I'll come up there and tear them mages limb from limb for you, eh?"
Mordecai shook his head in amusement and said, "Don't go too hard on them, Arthur. If they decide to attack me, I wouldn't be downed without a struggle. Any mages left would be too weak to even glare at you." With that he drew his cloak closer around his body, shutting out the sharp chill that was settling on Doranbrad as the evening drew on.
"Lady Anya! Lady Anya!" called a pair of the search party, who had been tasked with combing the dark alleyways of the south end of the city.
"Just our luck to be picked for this, eh Jorus?" one soldier said as his search partner with his plated elbow.
"Could be worse, I guess. Better than standing around shaking our bones all night 'till the demons attack," Jorus replied.
"You worried about the demons?"
"Nah, not at all, Loran. They can't be all as bad as the legends make them out to be, right?"
"I dunno. My grandda told me about fighting in the last Great War against the elves and the undead, and he said the demons were the worst enemy of all. Massive titans of pure fire and power, he said, nearly unstoppable," Loran said with a shiver.
"That's when the Legion was still strong, mind you! It's been years; the demons have to have weakened some since," Jorus scoffed.
A rustling noise, like that of coarse leather scraping across cobblestones, made both of the soldiers tense and halt their advance as they both turned and scanned the narrow alley surrounding them. After a few moments, the pair shrugged in near unison and warily began forward again, their eyes taking turns furtively darting around the alley.
"Wonder what that was. . ." Jorus started before being cut off by Loran.
"Shh. . .you hear that? Sounds like whispering!" Loran hissed.
Jorus stopped again and listened hard. His muscles seemed to deflate as he nodded his agreement; it surely sound like faint whispering was filling the alleyway. "I don't like this, Loran. . ." he started again, but this time was cut off not by Loran, but by a guttural, wordless curse that echoed down the alley.
Both of the men drew their swords, the tips waggling uncertainly, easily betraying the fear of the two. "Come out, whoever you are! Hands in the air!" Loran yelled, his voice nearly a hysterical shriek.
Another curse choked its way down the alley, forcing the pair to jump slightly in fear. "On three we charge down the alley, okay Loran? Whatever's down there won't expect that." Jorus hissed. "One, two, THREE!" Jorus thundered as his legs pumped and he began hurtling down the alleyway, weaving as he tried to avoid stacked crates and trash.
He skidded to a stop as he saw a faint light growing at the end of the alley. The glow separated itself into lines that seemed to form a rune of some sort. Jorus began to call out, but his voice was choked off as he was flung into the air and thrust backwards, colliding with Loran, who was just now reaching him.
A yell of triumph echoed down the alley as the pair slowly stood, grasping the hilts of their swords so tightly that Loran wondered insanely for a moment whether he would be able to bend his with his bare hands. Another rune symbol, this time in blazing blue fire, sketched itself in the air and then streaked towards Loran, impacting on his chest and slicing cleanly through the breastplate. Loran screamed in agony as Jorus backed away from him in horror.
Then Loran's body exploded into an expanding pillar of blue flame. Jorus had just enough time to raise his sword before the column reached him, disintegrating all trace of his body.
A rough laugh, followed by a deeply intoned "Fools!" echoed down the hallway, before footsteps began retreating away from where the pair had fallen.
"Mordecai, is it? I'll inform the elders that you've come," replied the guard sitting outside of the mage quarters, his voice disinterested. He stood from his chair, stretched his legs for a few moments, and then slid through the doorway behind him.
"Thank you. Please, hurry," Mordecai called after him, lowering his cowl. Torches flickered in scones that covered the rough stone walls, and along one wall a giant, intricately woven tapestry depicted the great sorceress Aegwynn's epic victory against the powerful demonlord Sargeras. Her hands were outstretched in a casting gesture, and a beam of rainbow light was streaking through what appeared to be a fierce blizzard. Dead bodies of thousand of demons littered the ground, and faintly in the sky a great flight of dragons could be seen flapping furiously, eager to be away from the legendary battle.
"Beautiful, isn't it? Nice craftsmanship," a voice drifted through the room. An elderly man slowly stepped through the doorway, waving at the tapestry. "Always been one of my favorites."
"It is indeed a delight to look at," Mordecai agreed thoughtfully, his hand stroking his chin as he gazed upon the tapestry. He made a sort of appreciative noise before he turned and smiled at the man. "I don't believe we've ever met. My name is..."
"I know well who you are, mageslayer Mordecai of the order of the Kalel'Nor. I believe that's what your kind call yourselves, isn't it?"
"It is," Mordecai agreed again, his voice noticeably more stiff than before as the smile faded from his face. "Who are you?"
"I am Naroc, mage of the order of the Kirin Tor," the mage said slowly, his eyes absorbing Mordecai fully as he spoke. "Perhaps you may have heard of me during your travels, in the course of your...work."
"Indeed, the name Naroc is one known to my ears," Mordecai acknowledged and outstretched his hand. "We are well met."
"Perhaps," Naroc replied curtly, brushing away Mordecai's offered hand. "The elders are prepared to see you now. Follow me this way." With that, Naroc turned and walked through the corridor he had come from.
Mordecai shook his head slightly in annoyance as he allowed himself one more generous glance at the tapestry, savoring its every detail. He tore his eyes away from it with great reluctance, and he followed Naroc.
The corridor was narrow and dark; it really was little more than a slit in the wall, with no room to hold candles. Mordecai raised his hand and muttered a few words quietly as he walked, nodding in satisfaction as a furiously swirling sphere of fire appeared, hovering a few inches above his outstretched palm. The light didn't reveal much in the corridor, but it made the rather uneven floor easier to see. Mordecai was sure he avoided many painful spills at the hands of the poorly laid cobblestones.
Finally, a shaft of light appeared at the end of the corridor. Mordecai closed his palm over the floating sphere, softly hissing as the fire extinguished itself. He flexed his hand experimentally a few times as he came to the exit of the corridor, and then looked up, only to find Naroc had disappeared.
"Hello?" Mordecai called out, feelings of unease knotting his stomach. Was this a trap? He wouldn't put it past these mages; descendents of the original Kirin Tor seemed to loathe and despise followers of the Kalel'Nor, although he supposed their hatred was justified. He had been forced to slay more than a few of the surviving Kirin Tor mages. "We need to speak immediately."
"Why should we speak with one such as you, Mordecai? One who has wandered the crossroads of the world for nine years, hunting and killing our best and brightest mages deserves nothing but death," a voice echoed from above Mordecai.
"Listen!" Mordecai bellowed, his words echoing loudly in the great room he had found himself in. "There are demons outside the city, a massive army the likes of which hasn't been seen since the last Great War. They are coming to wipe this city out of existence, and unless you aid myself and the people of Doranbrad, there will be nothing to stop them."
A barked syllable echoed back at him, and Mordecai gasped in surprise as he felt his body streak backwards, impacting heavily on the wall. His breath all but gone, he managed to rasp out, "Why don't you listen to reason?"
"The Kalel'Nor embrace lies and half-truths to serve their own ends; such knowledge is common here. We know all too well what you are capable of, and what you have done during your crusade."
Mordecai's body slid slowly down the wall, landing heavily on the cool stone floor. He took a few deep breaths, attempting to regain his wind. He cast his anger-filled eyes up towards where he had felt the attack come from. Finally, he spoke. "I do not care what Lady Anya has told you. She speaks from the perspective of a spurned lover, and her words are far more vitriolic than is true. Her relation to Jaina Proudmoore should not blind you to the very obvious dangers that threaten this city now."
A cluster of old mages stepped out through the wall at the end of the room, and Mordecai resisted the urge to rub his eyes in surprise. The optical illusion was effective, though he had seen better in his travels. "Mageslayer Mordecai, on pain of death, do you have conclusive evidence of this demonic threat to the city of Doranbrad?"
"I would not be here if I didn't," Mordecai said as he slowly stood; pain was flashing through each and every joint of his body, a cruel reminder of the short flight he had just undertaken. "Use a viewing lens and look to the east. You will see enough campfires to melt all the ice in Northrend. If your glass is powerful enough, you can make out the demons."
"Very well, Mordecai," said one of the mages as he stepped back through the wall. One of the remaining elders stared venomously at Mordecai for a few more moments before casting his gaze to the window and the night that was visible through it. "I find it convenient that a demonic army would choose to attack Doranbrad so soon after your arrival. A suspicious man might level the accusation that you are directly related to this supposed assault."
"You accuse me, a sworn lifelong member of the Kalel'Nor, an order devoted to hunting down corrupt mages to prevent the summoning of the remnants of the Burning Legion, of summoning or controlling enough demons to level Doranbrad?" Mordecai asked incredulously. "Though my powers are great, I don't believe I could summon even a tenth of the army that prepares to obliterate this city."
"The demons came from somewhere, mageslayer!" retorted the mage, returning his baleful stare to Mordecai. His lip drew back slightly in a sneer.
"Precisely an issue I wished to take up with you and the other members of your council. Thus far in my journey, I have come across a staggering number of magi who have dabbled in the dark arts. I feel it to be very likely that perhaps someone in Doranbrad is at least partially behind this demonic host. Surely you've visited the room on the other side of the castle where a demon was obviously summoned."
"I have," admitted the elder. "I see no evidence of involvement of any Kirin Tor mages."
"Then you weren't looking hard enough," Mordecai replied simply. "Even Lady Anya accepted my supposition."
"Lady Anya is neither a member of this council, nor is she held in a favorable light at the time. Against the wishes of the council, she remains in the city, seemingly hunting down this summoned demon."
Mordecai began to reply, and then paused. A frown spread across his face as he realized the full import of the elder's words. "Lady Anya disobeyed the council?"
"Very directly, yes."
"Many things must have changed since last we met, then. I never imagined her capable of such open rebellion," Mordecai said thoughtfully. "Some of the soldiers are looking for her currently. When they find her, I'll make it known to her that the council is displeased with her."
The elder started to reply, but then fell silent as the mage who had left returned, his face slightly pale. "The mageslayer speaks the truth. There is a host of demons outside the city. You didn't say there were so nigh, though."
"They weren't. When Edgar saw them, they were still a camped a few miles away. Unless..." Mordecai started, his voice filled with dread. He stepped forward a few paces and glanced out the window. "It's past midnight now. Of course they would attack now."
"Issue a call to every mage in the academy, Norac!" one of the elders who had remained silent thus far thundered out. "Time is short now!" Norac reappeared in the chamber and nodded curtly at the council. A blue shaft of light appeared around his body, and in a few moments he vanished.
"Mageslayer, our grievances are far from settled. However, in the interest of the city, it seems most prudent to set them aside for the moment. We will deal with this matter when we have won this battle."
"If, you mean." Mordecai said softly as a piercing blue light invaded the room, washing over all the men within. Mordecai's heart leapt into his throat as the teleportation spell completed itself, and he closed his eyes in preparation for what he knew to be a very disconcerting experience.
When he opened them again, they were met by the massive main gate of Doranbrad, behind which the defenders of the city were finishing their final preparations. Edgar raised a gloved hand and waved nonchalantly at Mordecai. He took a moment to compose himself and to recover from the disorientation he always seemed to experience whenever he teleported. As he had nearly expected, Arthur's hand landed heavily upon his sore shoulder, eliciting a quiet groan of pain from Mordecai as he turned to face the paladin.
"I don't know how you did it, you lucky bloke, but all the mages are here now," Arthur said nearly jovially before his face fell. "All, that is, but Lady Anya."
"The search party hasn't found her yet?" Mordecai coughed; teleportation seemed to have the side effect of drying his throat and mouth completely on only him.
Arthur grabbed a flask from his side and slid it into Mordecai's hand. "Drink. No, they didn't find hide nor hair of her. Come to think of it, they should all have reported in by now."
Mordecai tilted the flask up to his mouth and downed the fiery ale within gratefully, though his gullet nearly immediately protested the harsh treatment. He coughed again, this time not from a dry mouth, but from the strength of the ale. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and smiled slightly at Arthur as he extended the flask back to the paladin. "The dwarves'll be angry if you keep nipping off with their fuels and mistaking them for spirits."
Arthur laughed heartily and clapped Mordecai on the back again as he reached forward to grab hold of the flask. "It's good you can find humor in dark times as these. Shall I send out a few more men after Lady Anya?"
"I wouldn't see how a few more men could hurt," Mordecai replied.
Arthur pointed to a few men that were standing nearby, apparently already prepared to go join the search, and watched in satisfaction as the men began marching off. "Everyone's here now, Mordecai, except her. All that's left is the demons."
A fierce cry went up from the city walls as the archers let loose a volley of arrows, and then began grabbing at the white-feathered shafts that were resting in the quivers at their feet, nocking and firing the arrows in a furious rain.
Mordecai glanced up to the walls and then back to Arthur. "You just had to say it, didn't you?"
Author's Note:
My many and most sincere apologies for how long it has been since last I updated. Life has a tendency to get bad all very quickly, as I'm sure you may know. I'm plugging along on all my writing again thanks to a renewed sense of...something...*shrugs*
And for anyone who frequents http://www.shatteredenigma.com may know that my story was recently second place in a bid for first against The Forgotten One in a contest to become a Featured Story. I believe the only reason I failed was because this chapter wasn't there. I think this chapter is vital in both it's continued painting of my characters, and of conflicts to come.
Thank you, reader. Kindly leave a review, because I would love to get some feedback on this story.
Fight on,
Dark-Elk
