"Empire of Death" By Forever Jake
Chapter 2
Kael awoke feeling groggy, lethargic, as though he had had a short night's rest after the longest imaginable day, and with supper the night before. Every part of him ached, from his fingertips to his knees, to his spine and his chest, to the pit of his stomach and the back of his skull. There was another intense pain, as well, that struck at him from outside his spent body; it was as though he was starving to death and devouring something far too hot for his mouth, all at the same time. He was decidedly numb, as well. He could feel nothing... nothing but the pain.
At first, he felt he could not even open his eyes; presently, as he became more and more aware of the soft blue light more and more invading his brain, he forced himself to open them. He lay, naked, in a small chamber of a cave, its exterior location indiscernible. It did not feel cold enough to be Northrend, and in fact, he realized, he felt quite warm. He would have felt very comfortable were it now for his throbbing pain. Even the air that cycled through his lungs tasted strangely familiar – yet at the same time, somehow changed from the last time he had tasted it.
He struggled to sit up, wincing as new waves of the incredible pain shot up and down his body. He finally managed, bracing his back against the cave wall. He looked around now, taking in the whole of the room. An exit to another chamber was visible, but too far away to crawl to in his weakened condition. Besides, he seemed to be alone at the moment, unthreatened except by his own pain.
After a time, his pain and lethargy overtook him, and he succumbed to sleep once more.
When he was awoken the second time it was by a small splash of water on his face, not as cold as ice and therefore painful, but cool, like a fresh spring, and refreshing. Kael realized that the chamber had become stiflingly warm while he'd slept, and the cool water was a welcome reprieve. It was darker as well – though there was no visible opening to the outside, sunlight yet found its way in during the day, and now, apparently, that sun had set.
The pain in his body was also gone, save for a growing hunger in his neglected stomach, and although his mental agony remained, he was now able to move without wincing. He stretched and opened his eyes slowly, banishing the remainder of his lethargy. He blinked in surprise when he saw the face of his visitor peering down at him.
"Arthas!" he gasped. He shielded himself with his hands, his eyes darting to either side, seeking a weapon, but finding none. Arthas set his now- empty cup down on the cave floor.
"Be at peace, brother Kael. If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it in Northrend, or during one of my hundred visits while you slept."
"Then this is not Northrend?" Kael was confused as to what Arthas wanted, but pleased that his senses had not failed him. So this was not Northrend, after all. Then where...
"No, brother Kael, we are far from there. We are in fact near the borders of your ancient homeland, Quel'thalas."
Quel'thalas. The Realm Eternal, the place of his birth. After so many months, so many lands and masters, he was home.
"How long have I slept?" he asked.
"It has been three days since the capture of you and your people in the North. They slept, like you, through most of the journey; a combination of some modest spellwork and their own physical and spiritual exhaustion."
"How did we get here so fast? It took my people over a month to cross the frozen seas."
"I, thankfully, have more efficient modes of transportation at my disposal. I believe you have the frost wyrm, Sapphiron, to thank for your passage here."
"The undead dragon?" Kael looked incredulous. "I have enough trouble believing those things can fly, let alone cross an ocean with passengers." Arthas smiled, handing him a large black bundle.
"Put this on. I'm afraid your old cloak was far too stained with Illidan's magics. We had to remove you from it before it killed you. This robe will serve you better." The mention of his former master brought back to Kael's mind keen memory of the last months' battles. The elf's face tightened in distrust as he set the garment down.
"What do you want from me?" Kael asked slowly. Arthas sighed.
"I had hoped we could circumvent all this hostility, Kael. Illidan is dead, and as tragic as that must be for you, it means my quarrel with you and your people is over. I was hoping that we might be able to aid one another."
It was very dark now in the chamber, and even Kael's elven eyes could not quite make out Arthas' features amid the shadow. I must see his face before I trust him. A familiar spell came to his mind, one he had used many times before. He pictured in his mind a single flame, willing that flame into being in his palm. He could feel it sparking, beginning to grow...
He screamed in renewed agony, doubling over and dropping Arthas' robe on the ground. No flame appeared in his palm.
"You'll have to take it easy on the magic for awhile, Kael," Arthas said, retrieving the robe and draping it over his companion. It felt surprisingly cool on his back, ameliorating as the water had been. "Remember, Kil'jaeden and Illidan are no longer fueling your endeavors. Until I can procure a new source for you to draw from, any spell you try will only bring you pain, as this one has." Kael took the robe from his back and put it on.
"Now, then, for some light." Arthas snapped his fingers loudly, and an acolyte entered the chamber carrying a dim torch. She placed it in a narrow alcove in the wall, and left.
Arthas motioned at the alcove with his hand, and almost instantly, a thin layer of ice spread over it, reflecting the light within one hundredfold.
Kael looked up at his savior's face, taking in his countenance carefully. When the elf's excruciation had subsided, he smiled weakly.
"Thank you, Arthas." The Death Knight nodded in acknowledgement. Kael swallowed, collecting his thoughts. "It would appear that I am in your debt. You have spared my life, saved me and my people from certain death, and aided me in coping with my... affliction." He paused, and then finished, "The Blood Elves are yours to command, King Arthas."
"I accept your service, Prince Kael'thas. The Scourge has much use for your people, as you will see." He snapped his fingers again, and the acolyte entered again, carrying a large metal tray. This she set down between the two men before disappearing again. "You are famished," Arthas said, reminding Kael of his all-to-real hunger. "Eat." With this, the Death Knight lifted the lid from the tray, revealing the dish inside.
The creature appeared to have once been a pig or boar of some sort, though it was barely recognizable as such. Its skin was black with large purple splotches, and it's eyes, though dead, glowed a dim scarlet.
"What happened to it?" Kael breathed, trying to ignore the noxious odor that was rising from the steaming dish.
"We caught it floating in the Sunwell," Arthas replied. "The Well's corruption has killed it, cooked it to death." Kael held back the urge to vomit, images flooding his mind of his familiar Sunwell, tainted, this unfortunate creature floating in it, drowning in its own bile.
"Eat," Arthas whispered. "I have left you your life, but your soul must feel my touch all the same. I must have some assurance of your oath. Eat, and you shall truly be my servant."
Kael sat, green-faced, his eyes focused steadily on the awful thing before him. This corruption, this evil, should never be allowed inside his body. It would fulfill his hunger, but leave him far more empty than he had ever been.
Yet despite his revulsion, his hunger – for food and for magic – won over it. After mere seconds, Kael lowered his face to the defiled meat and gorged himself.
Sylvanas sat alone at her desk, twirling the runed dagger in her hands. She had given Kel'thuzad a stony face, but she was bothered by what he had said – by both the information he had shared, and by the readiness with which he had seemed to dispense it. Though she had never held the lich in high regard, she knew of one outstanding quality which he did possess: loyalty. Through everything that she had seen, in good and bad moments of the war, he had never wavered in his loyalty to Arthas and the Frozen Throne.
That was why it didn't make sense for him to have cracked so easily. He had never before seemed to fear death, not if it was for the Lich King's cause; his mortal life had ended such, a sacrifice to darken Arthas' soul. He had also perished many times in battle since his rebirth at the Sunwell, so why...
The Sunwell...
Somehow it all came back to the Sunwell, to the lich's failed quest, whatever it was. Sylvanas knew enough to guess that Kel'thuzad had not been totally honest, despite the desperation which drove him to speak out. There was something more, some deeper danger the skeletal mage had to be concealing. His loyalty had to run that deep, at least...
"Sylvanas," Varimathras intoned, standing at the doorway of the study. He was staring at the dagger... Sylvanas quickly replaced the blade within the drawer.
"I have told you to address me as 'My Lady', have I not?"
"Yes, my Lady. I was wondering if I might speak to you about our prisoner... the lich, Kel'thuzad." It was as if the brute was psychic.
"I see you were listening in after all." The demon blushed. "Well? Speak."
"I wonder if he was being entirely truthful. I have always thought the leader of the Cult of the Damned to have a greater loyalty to his master, the Lich King. It does not strike me as right for him to give in to you so easily."
"I had been thinking the same thing, Dreadlord. I've never seen him so... squeamish." She paused before continuing her thoughts out loud. "I only wonder if this isn't related to the Lich King's regression."
"Regression, my Queen?"
"The weakening of Ner'zhul's grip on this land, on all of us. You must have noticed it, even you Dreadlords were under his thumb to some extent. Now..." She trailed off.
"Ah, yes. It was this 'slackening' which allowed my brothers and I to attempt our little coup."
"And allowed me my own ascension," she finished. "I wonder if Ner'zhul's lost his grip on Kel'thuzad, as well... though if he can't even control his closest supporters, I can't imagine he's got much power left at all."
"We should move against them now, my Lady, before Arthas can reach his precious master and save him."
"If Arthas was going to do anything, he'd have done it by now; we've got our own position here to worry about at the moment. The Scourge can wait – those humans at Dalaran are our primary threat right now."
"Yes, my Lady. That's actually something I wanted to ask you about. In his blurted confession, Kel'thuzad mentioned something which caught my interest."
"He said many things which caught my interest, Varimathras. What are you talking about?"
"Before he got under your skin about the Sunwell–" Sylvanas' eyes flashed. The Dreadlord swallowed and continued. "–he said that the leader of the humans at Dalaran is undead." There was a beat as this sunk in.
"He did, didn't he," Sylvanas breathed. "That can't be good. With the Alliance on his side, Arthas can take control of this continent again without worrying about whatever powers Ner'zhul seems to have lost."
"Shall I investigate this, my Queen?"
"Yes, and quickly. Find out what you can. If we have an assassination to perform, I want it done while we still have the chance."