I. Heroes
A gentle wind ruffled the grass. The setting sun turned the sky amber from horizon to horizon, and evening birds began to stir in the lengthening shadows. All in all, a nice evening for delivering mail in the Arathi Highlands.
Or it would've been without the three gnolls.
"What's in the bag?" asked the one with the bat.
"Mail," said Roxie.
"I bet you got some expensive stuff in there," said the one with the chain.
She ignored him and pointed at the one with the dagger. "That's a nice knife you got there. Dwarven?"
"Empty the bag."
"Yeah, no. I won't do that."
"We're gonna make you do it."
"How about we go our separate ways and forget this happened?"
The one with the bat came at her first. He swung and she ducked under his arm, grabbed his tail, and let his momentum and her weight whirl him around. He hit the dagger-bearer in the mouth with the bat and they both went down, yelping.
The one with the chain wrapped it around his fist and rushed her. Roxie side-stepped and caught his wrist with the strap of her mailbag. She held her ground, yanked, and heard the crack of a joint dislocating.
She untwisted her mailbag from the howling gnoll, glared at the other two who were thinking of getting to their feet, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.
"I'll let you keep the knife."
They didn't bother following her.
Several kilometres later, Roxie arrived at her destination. It was the only house in sight, and on the rolling prairie, Roxie was pretty sure she could see all the way to Hillsbrad Foothills.
The house was made of wood, silvered with age, and backed into a hillock with the roof an extension of the earth covered in greenery. There was a large vegetable garden spread out to one side and beds of flowers on the other. A low hedge with a wooden gate opened onto a flagged path leading to the door. The two square windows facing the path glowed with firelight.
Roxie knocked at the door.
An elderly human man wearing an apron opened it with obvious caution. Roxie tugged on the Azeroth Post patch sewn to her jacket.
"Evening, sir. Is this the home of Anik and Pearla?"
The man nodded, still wary. "It is."
Roxie reached into her bag and flipped through three envelopes.
"I've mail for you from Stormwind. Sent by Ryath, Arrow, and Saffron, Sophia, and…" She squinted at what was obviously a child's shaky printing. "...Mila? Millie?"
His expression immediately changed and he broke into a smile. "Malia!"
"Malia. There we are." She handed him the letters.
"Pearla! The mail's here!" He turned back to Roxie. "We're just about to sit down for dinner. Come in and join us."
"That's very kind of you but-"
"I insist. You must have walked for hours to bring these."
A short grey-haired human woman joined the man. "Come on, dear. It's getting dark and there are gnolls in these parts."
Roxie did a quick once-over of the house: assorted knick-knacks, simple hand-made furniture, worn rugs, patched blankets and curtains, and a kitchen that took up half the floor plan. Pots, pans, utensils, a wood-burning iron stove, a stone oven, a fireplace with a rotisserie…
The place smelled amazing.
The man brought a stool to the table and patted it. "I understand you lot like to be on your way be it night or day, but at least let us feed you."
None of it set off Roxie's danger alarms. She hung her jacket on a peg by the door and slung her mailbag around behind her.
"Thanks very much."
The couple bustled from table to stove to oven and set out far too much food for two (or three) people on colourful tiles in the middle of the table.
"Let's see the mail first, Anik. I'm too excited to eat. You go ahead, dear."
The couple crowded together with the letters, both of them reading under their breath at the same time.
Roxie assessed the food. It was hard to poison a goblin; goblins were capable of eating things that would leave other species sick or dead, and what some species considered 'spoiled' was really just 'aged'.
Years ago, when she first became a postal worker, Roxie might have been embarrassed by her intense suspicion of an adorable old couple in their adorable little house, but she hadn't survived this long by trusting everything to be as it seemed.
Roxie took a bite of something bathed in sweet, peppery sauce and figurative fireworks went off in her brain. Nothing she had ever eaten tasted like this. She stared down at the plate. What was this? She went for something that looked like a long dumpling. It was filled with thick sauce, mushrooms, assorted vegetables, small pieces of meat.
Next she tried the rice- same result. She'd eaten rice a thousand times and it never tasted like this. She wanted to shovel the whole bowl into her mouth. Steamed vegetables in sauce- also amazing. Several cuts of meat- beyond delicious.
Roxie looked up at the couple who were holding hands while they read.
"Pardon me but- can I ask you something?"
The woman looked up. "Yes?"
"Why do you live all the way out here?"
The man sighed and the woman looked down at the letters. "Well… It wasn't always just us. We had neighbours, a few minutes walk up and down the road-"
"-when there was a road-"
"-but then the gnolls came and most everyone left. We stayed because, well, because we built our home here and raised our children here, and the gnolls leave us alone as long as we pay them."
"Pay them?" Roxie almost added 'with what?' There was hardly anything of value in the home.
"We give them food every week."
Suddenly the feast made sense. Roxie looked down at her plate.
"This is way, way too good for gnolls."
"I know," said the woman. "But it keeps them away."
They continued to read the letters, trading them between themselves, and reading parts out loud to each other. Roxie continued to eat. She identified some of the herbs and spices as things she had seen in the garden outside, but there were flavours she could swear she'd never tasted before.
When she looked up, the woman was dabbing away tears with her sleeve, and the man put his arm around her shoulders tightly.
"Hey, are you guys okay?"
"Our youngest grand-daughter," said the man. "She's learned to write." He was trying not to cry and whether it was happiness or sadness, Roxie couldn't tell. "Born in Stormwind! She'll grow up safe and have so many opportunities-" He went back to hugging the woman.
Roxie put down her fork. "Um. Look. We're not even properly introduced an' all but this seems like a real crappy situation. You're out here cooking for gnolls and your kid an' grandkid's all in Stormwind-"
"Our son and our daughter both live in Stormwind. We stayed here so they could leave. That was the deal."
"Deal? With the gnolls?"
The woman nodded.
Roxie felt her cheeks flush with anger. She prided herself on staying composed regardless of the situation- a calm demeanour, a casual tone, and sometimes aggressive friendliness served her best. But this? This deserved some anger.
"Do they let you visit?" She knew the answer before she asked.
"No," the man replied. He looked down at the letter in his hand. "Ryath… every letter, he begs us to come live with him. I can't bear to tell him…"
"We never told the children why we stay." The woman held her partner's hand. "If we tried to leave- well. It's impossible now. We're too old for a journey like that."
The food turned tasteless in Roxie's mouth. She looked down at her hands and forced her fist to unclench from the fork.
"Okay. So. I've been all over Azeroth and what you're cooking here is better than 99% of the food I've eaten anywhere else. Anywhere. You should be with your family, cooking for them. And maybe for Stormwind because I'm not kidding this is ridiculously good and you could open a restaurant with portions like this."
The woman sniffled into her sleeve. "You're very kind but this is how it is."
"If you could leave, what would you need to take with you?"
The man shook his head. "Stop. We can't leave and there's no point dreaming about it."
"This ain't dreaming," said Roxie. "Seriously. Whattaya need?"
The couple looked at each other and the woman spoke hesitantly. "I'd take my rolling pin. Sophia's is no good... And- and the cilantro- she's never been able to grow it."
"Pearla…"
"He'd take his copper pots."
She fell silent.
"Is that all?" Roxie gestured around her. "That's it?"
"That's what I would choose. If we're dreaming."
Roxie stood up. "I'll be back in a week. Pack what you need."
"What do you mean- wait-"
"A week. I promise. We'll get you out of here."
"But dear- the gnolls- the journey-"
Roxie put her jacket on and gave them a grin and a salute. "Don't worry about the journey. I know a mage who owes me a favour."
When Roxie returned a week later, she was half prepared to see the house burnt down or something equally horrible. She had to admit she was uneasy about the gnolls- they probably knew where she had gone after their altercation with her.
But the house was still standing, the garden in bloom, and when she announced herself, Anik and Pearla opened the door. They shared a stunned expression.
"You- you really-"
"You came back!"
"I wouldn't leave ya hanging."
The couple smothered her in a tandem hug.
"Hey, hey, let's stick to business here." She turned to Jaina, who smiled brightly. "This is Jenny. She's my mage friend."
"A pleasure to meet you," said the disguised Lich King.
She wore a glamour that gave her brown hair, freckles in place of the scars, and a little more colour in her cheeks than usual. Instead of the cane, she walked with a gold staff topped with a green crystal. Her hair was tied in a jaunty ponytail and she wore a purple dress that fit a little tight, which gave her a sort of buxom-farmgirl-turned-mage look. (Roxie was pleased to discover that Jaina did, in fact, own clothes that weren't varying shades of depression.) It all made her appear like a normal, approachable human.
"Oh my goodness- hello- welcome to our home-"
"Come in, please!"
They had to feed Roxie and Jaina, of course. This time it was pastries. How the hell did they make pastries out in the Arathi sticks? Roxie tossed the question aside and dug in.
After the 'snack', Roxie helped the couple pack while Jaina stayed in the yard, pretending that it took her more than two seconds to build a portal. She drew what looked like an impressive spell-circle but Roxie couldn't tell if it was the real thing or just a fancy design. Either way, it was very convincing.
"I'm so nervous."
"Where are we going to end up?"
"In the Mages' Quarter, but don't worry, we won't leave ya there."
"I can't believe you would do this for us-"
"We're strangers to you!"
"Hey." Roxie took Pearla's hands in her own. "The thing about the mail service is that there's people at both ends of each letter. Sometimes, y'know, those people should be closer together."
More hugging.
"The world needs more people like you."
"All right, all right. Ja-Jenny? Are you ready?"
"All ready, Roxie."
More than one magic-user in the Mages' Quarter eyed Jaina with suspicion or curiosity. At first, Roxie was wary that they might blow her cover, but a covert question to Jaina- while the couple were occupied with their surroundings- assured her that none of these people were aware of anything more than the glamours.
"They probably think I'm an old woman trying to look young." She was leaning hard on the staff today, but she was smiling.
Anik and Pearla's two children lived in the Old Town, part of which was still being rebuilt from Deathwing's assault. The building they stopped at was recently repaired, and located above a shop with a 'For Lease' sign in the window.
Roxie pointed to the sign. "That right there? That's fate. That's what that is."
The couple missed her suggestion entirely as they bustled up the stairs to the apartment above.
Roxie and Jaina stood on the street below with the couple's few belongings but the shouts, the tears, and the sheer, pure joy of the reunion poured down and enveloped them, and also several complete strangers who paused to rubberneck at the commotion.
It turned out that their son, daughter, daughter-in-law, son-in-law, grand-daughters, an uncle, two aunts, and five cousins also lived in the building. The entire top floor was divided into four apartments and the family rented the whole thing.
"You got any family, Lady Jaina?"
Jaina paused. "I have one brother living here, in Stormwind. I had another but he was killed during the Second War. And there's my mother. Uh. She's alive but... Well. That's a long story for another time. What about you?"
"Mom, dad- divorced- step-mom, seven siblings, and five step-siblings. I'm the youngest."
"Seven siblings?!"
Roxie glanced up. "Goblins have litters, not one kid."
"...I did not know that."
"Yep. I was lone-born, which makes me rare and special."
Jaina leaned over and whispered. "No Roxie, your heart is what makes you rare and special."
"Euurrgh."
It wasn't long before the two of them were swept off the street by a bunch of physically affectionate extended family, all of whom insisted on hugging and patting, with some hand-shaking from the more reserved ones.
It also wasn't long before half the family was in the son's kitchen, arguing and prepping food, while the other half demanded stories from Roxie and Jaina, but mostly Roxie.
"Tell us everywhere you've been!"
"It'd be easier to list the places I haven't been-"
"How do you get to Orgrimmar?"
"What about Darnassus?"
"Have you ever been on a sailing ship?"
"What about a gryphon? Have you ridden a gryphon?"
"A zeppelin?"
"Have you ever seen a sabercat?"
"What about dire wolves? Are they scary?"
"What's it like dealing with trolls?"
"Have you seen a dragon?"
"How do you carry all the mail?"
"How do you find the people the mail is for?"
"What if someone is dead?"
"How many languages can you read?"
"Have you ever been in a combat zone?"
"Can you teach me how to say 'hello' in tauren?"
"Teach me how to swear in dwarven!"
"Don't teach him how to swear in dwarven."
Roxie gave everyone a number and answered their questions in order.
Jaina sat beside her and never stopped smiling.
Then there was food. So much food. And so much conversation. Roxie thought she was pretty good at carrying a conversation but this was on another level. Everyone around her seemed able to juggle two or more separate discussions at once.
She glanced sideways at Jaina, who she had never seen speaking with more than two or three living people at one time. She had a sort of stunned expression but her eyes were darting between the family members as they talked.
One of the kids tugged on Roxie's sleeve. "Hey, sorry. Family rule- whoever doesn't cook has to clean."
"No, no, Roxie will never have to cook or clean in this house!"
"I'll help you," offered Jaina.
Jaina found herself washing dishes while Ryath's oldest daughter dried them.
"I'm Saffron," she said shyly.
"Hi Saffron. I'm Jenny."
"You're a mage."
"Yes, I am."
Saffron hadn't said much during the meal. She sat and listened, and Jaina realized the girl had been watching her the whole time.
"I want to be a mage when I grow up," she mumbled.
"What would you like to study?"
Saffron looked up. "How- how to fly. And how to make ice." She swallowed hard. "How to make the spells you have right now, that change how you look. Glamours."
"The key to glamours is making them as small as possible."
"I know." Saffron's voice was almost lost in the background noise. A fierce blush spread across her face from ear to ear. "I know you're not who you say you are." The words spilled out of her mouth so fast Jaina had to take a moment to unravel them.
"What do you mean?"
Saffron glanced around Jaina's shoulder towards the rest of the party. Jaina glanced too. Other non-cooking family members were wiping down the table, collecting errant dishes, bringing the family yet more food and drinks. There was no one near them.
"I've seen you before. I've felt you before. I know that I know you. But different."
Jaina stacked another clean plate on a growing pile. "You have? What do you feel?"
Saffron shook her head. "It's weird. It's a scent- but also a sound- and it's big. I don't how to say it- it's- you're bigger than you're trying to seem. A lot bigger."
"Impressive."
They stood in motionless silence for a moment.
"How old are you?"
"T-twelve."
"You're old enough to start mage training in Dalaran. And you're definitely strong enough."
"I… I thought I might but…"
Jaina nodded. "You could start as a first year student in the spring semester."
The girl twisted the dish towel in her hands.
"I could give you a recommendation."
"Really? I knew you weren't a hedge-witch!"
Jaina smiled. "The fact that you can tell I'm wearing glamours and that I'm bigger than what I seem- very good. How many glamours?"
"T-two. One on your face and one on your h-hair."
"Excellent."
More silence, and Jaina returned to washing dishes. Saffron stayed still, twisting the rag.
"Can- can I see who you are? I think I know but..."
"How do you know?"
Saffron took a deep breath and let it out in shaky gasps. "Deathwing."
"Oh." Jaina stared into the water. Then she turned to the girl. "Is your family okay? Were they injured?"
Saffron's lips quivered. "My uncle died. Auntie Sophia's husband."
"I'm so sorry, Saffron."
"Thank you. I mean. Thank you."
Jaina dried her hands on the floral apron someone had provided for her, then glanced towards the others. Three of the cousins were sneaking away from their cleaning duties.
She held up a finger. "One look, then tell me if you were right."
Jaina put up a thin shield around them- nothing obvious, just enough to make glances pass over them- and let the glamours fade.
Saffron dropped the towel and her hands flew to cover her mouth.
Jaina removed the shield and replaced the glamours. "So?"
"Oh. My. God."
"Were you right?"
Saffron nodded once, then picked up the towel. She was still staring. "You're… you're in my dad's kitchen."
"Mhm. Parties wear me out. They're nice- your whole family are wonderful!- but I'd rather watch. Or talk one on one. This is nice."
Saffron shook herself and took a wet dish off the pile. "Yeah, me too!"
They washed and dried in silence for some minutes. Saffron continued to dart glances at Jaina.
"Can I ask something?"
"Sure."
"How do you know Roxie?"
Jaina glanced towards the family, gathered round the postal worker. Even those not in direct conversation with her were angled toward her.
"She delivers mail to Icecrown."
Saffron turned to stare as well.
"Badass."
Jaina smiled. "You have no idea."
II. Shot in the Dark
Kel'Thuzad was fifteen years old and his parents had no idea what to do with him.
He and Sa'reya had started sneaking into Everlook, which incensed their parents and led to shouting matches, a variety of punishments, and his sister spending even more of her time as a bear.
"What's their problem?" Kel'Thuzad stabbed at the ice with his dagger. "I'm human and I don't even know how to speak Common. What- do they expect me to just stay in Winterspring forever, like them? I don't fancy being a goddamn hermit for the rest of my short, stupid life."
Sa'reya, in her night elf shape for the first time in days, gave the stubborn ice a stomp. "They don't understand that the world is changing. You were just a baby when I first started talking about becoming a druid. Mother cried for days. Women are supposed to be Sentinels and priestesses, not druids, according to them. And when Alunin decided to become a priest there was even more crying and dad threatened to kick him out."
Kel'Thuzad kept digging at the ice. "But I'm not kaldorei and they won't even talk about it. I'm 'their son'. But I'm not."
Sa'reya said nothing for a long time. "I think you should leave."
Kel'Thuzad raised his head. "What?"
"And I want to go with you. I don't want to spend my life here either. I need to learn from a real druid, not dad's books and my instincts. Let's go to Darnassus. There's human visitors- you could learn Common- we could learn Common." She smiled. "I want to go somewhere that has summer for more than six weeks. Don't you?"
"Maybe."
Sa'reya shrugged into her bear form, reared up, and smashed her paws down against the ice. It shuddered and cracks spidered out from the impact. She returned to her elven form and watched Kel'Thuzad hack at the cracks.
"You need a teacher, too."
He slammed the knife into the ice so hard that the blade snapped, and bounced and spun across the frozen lake.
"Yeah. That's never going to happen."
Once again, Kel'Thuzad lost a rabbit in the sheltering boughs of the fir trees. He yelled a curse after it and swatted snow off a branch with one gloved hand.
Something on the other side of the tree gave a deep snort. Maybe a sabercat? Kel'Thuzad took a step back.
"Scram!" he shouted. "I see you there! Get lost!"
He waved his arms, flapping his coat to look bigger. Unless the cat was really hungry, shouting and threatening usual drove them off. Kel'Thuzad prayed it wasn't hungry.
"Go chase the damn rabbit! Useless animal!"
The snort rumbled into a loud growl. Kel'Thuzad made a grab for the dagger he no longer had, then fumbled his bow off his back and took aim. Just my luck. I'll get eaten by something rather than get dinner.
The whole tree shuddered. Then the snow beyond it crumbled and began to slide off the form of something very, very large that had been buried beneath it in what he first thought to be a drift.
The snow began to steam and just as a brilliant sapphire began to show beneath the layer of white, Kel'Thuzad realized how close he had wandered to Mazthoril, a stronghold of the Blue Dragonflight.
"Oh, fu-"
The growl broke into a bone-rattling roar and Kel'Thuzad turned and ran for his life. He heard the roar settle into a constant low growl, heard the ice-brittle branches of trees breaking behind him, heard the whoosh of air as enormous wings opened.
Run! RUN!
Distantly, Kel'Thuzad knew he couldn't outrun an airborne dragon, even if he wasn't fighting through knee-deep snow, but fear sent him into mindless flight like the lost rabbit. The growl broke into a huff of breath and Kel'Thuzad threw himself sideways, under the lower branches of the closest tree, and scrambled away. The tree creaked and toppled behind him. He managed to dodge as the top of the tree slammed down at his heels, lost his footing, and sprawled full-length on his face.
With a scream that was half fear and half frustration with the whole damn world, he rolled onto his back, and faced the dragon. It was a full-grown drake, glittering blue in the sunlight, teeth as long as his hand-
Kel'Thuzad put up the only defense he had left and blasted the blue drake full in the face with ill-learned, poorly-controlled arcane magic. The drake's head whipped back with the force of the desperate blow and gave Kel'Thuzad a fraction of a second to continue fleeing. He charged away, heedless of direction.
As luck would have it, he found the edge of a steep ravine just in time to realize his mistake but not fast enough to correct it.
He pitched over into empty space, flung out his hands quickly enough to break his initial fall, then something smashed into his jaw, and everything went black.
Kel'Thuzad opened his eyes and the world was still black. He raised a trembling hand to his cheek, and found the whole area swollen and crusted with frozen blood. He struggled to breathe. There was a great weight on his chest. He gathered enough strength to cough.
Suddenly light flooded in and the weight lifted. He found himself staring up at the blue drake. Its massive paw hovered above him and he realized it had been holding him beneath it.
"I thought perhaps you were an especially rude and slow night elf, but no, you're an angry little human."
Kel'Thuzad made an incoherent yelp at the drake's voice. He didn't know they were capable of speech and its- his- voice was as deep and threatening as a growl.
"An angry little human who speaks the night elven language and wears their garb. Tell me, little one, what kind of human are you who goes about as a night elf and uses the magic of the Blue Dragonflight?"
Kel'Thuzad gasped around the pain of what was almost certainly a broken jaw.
"I thought you were a cat-"
The drake chuckled.
"Is that an apology? For calling me a 'useless animal'?"
"Yes-" Speaking hurt so much. "Please, please don't eat me-"
"You didn't answer my question. What are you?"
Tears trickled down his cheeks and he gasped another breath. "I'm-" Anger at everything welled up in his chest and he slammed his fist against the frozen ground. "I don't know!"
The drake drew back. He said something in Common. Kel'Thuzad squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his fingers and toes. His jaw throbbed with every breath but the rest of him was only bruised and cold.
"I don't understand Common."
"How peculiar." The drake shifted. "Do you know how many humans I have heard speak the night elven tongue?"
"Obviously not."
Another chuckle. "None!"
"How many- how many humans have you seen use your magic?"
"Many. So many. But none truly grasp it." He nudged Kel'Thuzad's leg with one claw. "I suppose it isn't your fault, as a species. You have such little lives. Not nearly enough time to understand."
"How much could I learn?"
"You?"
"How much? In a human life? How much?"
"If you live to your furthest years, you could perhaps learn what our whelps know on instinct."
Kel'Thuzad swallowed. "Then let me live. I want to learn." He blinked back more tears. "I can do it- please, give me a chance- I'm not good at anything else."
"And you think you're good at magic?"
"Not yet, but I could be."
The drake laughed and leaned over him. His jaws opened and Kel'Thuzad put up his hands in a vain attempt to fend off death.
The drake delicately picked him up by the hood of his jacket and set him on his feet.
Kel'Thuzad wobbled and braced himself against the drake's foreleg. "I can learn. I can- I just need to find a teacher- go somewhere-" Then the futility of it overwhelmed him and he sat down hard. "Where I can learn Common and then magic."
He became acutely aware that he was fifteen years old already, spoke only one language, and didn't know anything about magic except that he could use it when he was terrified.
"What's the point."
The drake shifted. "You're too dreary to eat now."
Kel'Thuzad twisted round to curse at him. The drake stared back and his anger faltered. There was something uniquely compelling in his eyes, an intelligence that went beyond sentience, something vast and inescapable, and for the first time in his life, Kel'Thuzad saw eternity and wanted it.
"What's your name?" he whispered.
"Do you deserve my name?"
"Yes," said Kel'Thuzad. "My name is Kel'Thuzad and I want you to teach me. What should I call you, master?"
The drake snorted steam into the freezing air. "You're a very peculiar creature, Kel'Thuzad- part night elf and part mage."
"I'll never be a night elf. But I am a mage, and I can be a better one if you will teach me. Please."
The drake gathered a clump of snow in one taloned foot. "Do you see this?" The snow melted and dripped out of his grasp. "This is a human life. I can hardly hold it before it slips away."
"Then what's the harm? I bet I'll die before you get bored."
"Go," he said. "Go back to your home. I smell a druid's scent on you. They can heal your injuries." He opened his wings. "My name is Spellmaw. Find me again, Kel'Thuzad, when your mind is clear."
Kel'Thuzad returned to the place where he first encountered Spellmaw again and again, but came up empty-handed each time. He circled Mazthoril as closely as he dared and never saw the drake. He widened his search, looked for broken trees, tracks, kills, anything that might look like the work of a dragon and found nothing.
He crouched in the snow near the mouth of the great cavern that led to the heart of Mazthoril and watched the guardians- blue dragonspawn- for hours.
Still no Spellmaw.
Kel'Thuzad began to think the drake had simply been teasing him and ceased surveilling the cavern. He stayed home unless it was his turn to hunt, practising the few words and phrases of Common that he knew, making and repairing arrows, and generally sulking.
"You're coming with me." Sa'reya grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of the house. "We're going hunting."
Instead, they went to Everlook, to the inn, and sat in a corner of the attached pub.
"Why are we here?"
"Wait," she said.
So they waited. The goblin that ran the pub spoke Darnassian- along with at least four other languages- so they ordered food and drink, and waited.
Finally, Kel'Thuzad saw what his sister was waiting for: a tauren druid in full adventurer's gear. Her armour bore scars of past battles so clearly it was functional, but the leather- and wood- was carved, stamped, and layered into a wearable work of art. She carried a mageweave pack that she set on the bar beside her; the fabric itself glowed with magic. Her tawny mane was strewn with real, blooming wildflowers, and strapped to her back was a staff twined with living vines and circled by fireflies.
Kel'Thuzad stared at her pack. He could feel the weave of the fabric, see the intersecting and overlapping threads of magic. The air around it shimmered with an iridescence that transcended visual sight and when the tauren picked it up and moved it to her other side so her troll companion could sit beside her, the pack left an eddy of magic in its wake.
He could see it. He could smell it.
I've been going about finding Spellmaw all wrong! His brothers and sister could trail prey with their sense of smell, track the faintest footprints, but Kel'Thuzad could see and smell magic itself. He could taste it.
The place where he first found Spellmaw bedded down- now he remembered the iridescence of the snow, more than glittering ice crystals. And Mazthoril- how had he missed the overwhelming flavour of azure, the light that stitched the edges of each dragonspawn into the dull, flat colours of the mortal world?
He was angry at himself briefly, but only briefly. Sa'reya was speaking but Kel'Thuzad was mesmerized. He looked around the pub. One patron had a shield that swam with the taste of blood and the colour of a stormy sky. Another had a ring that twinkled with scarlet despite being inside the wearer's glove.
And behind the bar- three unassuming glass bottles that billowed and swirled with life.
"There's magic everywhere," he blurted.
Sa'reya turned to him. "Yes, of course- wait, you mean your magic?"
"How did I never see it before?"
"I thought the same of living magic at first! Think of it this way: we grew up in the forest. We see trees everyday. We climb them, we cut them down, we plant them, we burn them, we carve them. Then one day someone tells you, 'This is a pine tree, and this is a fir tree.' Now, everytime you look at the forest you see pine trees and fir trees. You always saw them, they've always been there, but now you have names for what you see."
As she spoke, Kel'Thuzad realized she was right: he had always been able to see magic, to taste it and smell it. It had always been part of his life, but he had no more understanding of what it was than he had use for knowing the difference between tree species.
Until now.
Once he knew what he was looking for, Kel'Thuzad had little trouble tracking Spellmaw. The drake patrolled a loosely defined territory that covered much of southern Winterspring. The sky sparkled in his wake; the wind smelled of star-speckled dawn. Kel'Thuzad followed him for three days, never quite close enough to catch up while the drake rested. On the morning of the fourth day, Spellmaw didn't rise from the place where he bedded down right away. A sprinkling of new snow covered the drake's brilliant hide and once again he looked like an unassuming snowdrift.
"Spellmaw."
The drake raised his head and blew out a steaming breath.
"Little human. Is your mind clear now?"
"Yes," said Kel'Thuzad. "I'm ready to be your student."
The drake yawned. "Perhaps."
Spellmaw treated Kel'Thuzad the way Kel'Thuzad would treat a particularly curious crow: he could identify it among others and he might go out of his way now and then to interact with it. He guessed that the drake probably saw the difference in their intelligence- and capability with magic- in a similar way as well, but he was happy to be a clever little crow if it meant the drake would teach him.
At first, Kel'Thuzad learned only to mimic the drake. He copied and practised until he could replicate the small things Spellmaw showed him. After months of demonstrating that he was proficient at this, Spellmaw began to instruct him in magical theory; the mechanics of magic, why it worked the way it did, how to manipulate it, and- to his surprise- that magic had limits.
He also learned he wasn't the first human that Spellmaw had taught; there were people who pledged their lives to the dragons- the Wyrmcult, who did the bidding of their chosen Flight, and there were accomplished mages of several species among them. Spellmaw knew how to explain things to a mere human so that Kel'Thuzad could grasp the concepts and directions. He wasn't entirely sure if the drake was patient or if weeks of correcting and encouraging Kel'Thuzad's practise without annoyance didn't seem so long to Spellmaw.
Kel'Thuzad never bothered to find out what Spellmaw's position was within the hierarchy of Mazthoril, but he suspected the drake was a fairly important member. Sometimes he would go weeks without seeing Spellmaw or finding any trace of him. During those times, he practised and practised, studied the magic around him, experimenting with his knowledge, testing ideas he extrapolated from the experiments, and applying his results to new experiments.
The first thing Kel'Thuzad had managed to do with magic was to fight. Spellmaw had no qualms about teaching him how to improve that skill and drove him to exhaustion for the first time since Kel'Thuzad began training. It was a valuable lesson; magic had limits and so did Kel'Thuzad.
Sa'reya didn't miss her brother's burnout.
She sat down cross-legged on the foot of his bed. The frame creaked; it seemed the more time she spent as a bear, the more her night elf form began to resemble her favoured animal. She had always been tall but now the breadth of her shoulders and thickness of muscle made her seem even larger.
"So."
"What?"
"What'd the dragon do to you?"
Kel'Thuzad groaned. "How long have you been following me?"
"Since the beginning, pretty much. You're obsessing over magic in the woods, searching for something- a dragon is a living thing. I have no problem tracking him either."
"Who else knows?"
"No one. You know neither of our brothers can keep their mouth shut and our parents-" She blew out a long breath.
"Would not be pleased."
"Something like that."
"Does he know you're following us?"
"Definitely."
"Figures."
"So what'd he do to you?"
Kel'Thuzad sat up and grimaced. "He's teaching me how to fight. Getting hit with a frostbolt is one thing but did you know that handling and shaping magic- aggressively- has a physical effect on your own body?"
Sa'reya cocked her head. "Arcane magic is unnatural- don't look at me like that, hear me out. It exists naturally in the world but it isn't part of nature. It isn't in you, it isn't part of living things. I guess it's like using a sword and shield. You can tire yourself using them and you could cut yourself on your own sword if you're clumsy."
"That's true."
"You want to spar? When you're all in one piece again."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm insulted that you're asking that. Yes, I'm sure. Are you?"
Spellmaw also began to teach Kel'Thuzad to speak Common. First, he learned words associated with magic and the business of being a mage, then he learned to describe the world around him. Within these very specific lessons were the simple words that knit a language together and Kel'Thuzad took that knowledge to Sa'reya and to Everlook.
Kel'Thuzad was sixteen years old and now he could hold a somewhat stilted conversation with visitors at the inn.
"You've got the strangest accent," the goblin bartender told him. "Never heard Common spoke that way before."
It hadn't occurred to Kel'Thuzad that Spellmaw might not speak Common the way other people spoke it. To him, every speaker he met at the inn sounded the same: they clipped off the beginnings and ends of words, spoke too fast, dropped sounds and added others, used known words in different ways.
He and Sa'reya began to offer their expert knowledge of the area as guides to make money. Sometimes they guided those who wanted beautiful scenery, sometimes to those who wished to hunt, sometimes to those who simply wanted the quickest way from one place to another, or who needed someone to guard them as they went. The owner of the inn asked a percentage of their earnings and advertised their business.
Kel'Thuzad was seventeen years old and although his parents knew about his job- and disapproved- they didn't know that everytime he escorted a traveller to the borders of Winterspring, he yearned to go with them.
And they certainly didn't know that their son spent days in the company of a dragon who embodied the magic that their people had shunned for ten thousand years.
III. Joy
"Jaina wants to see us."
Soffriel drew a shaky breath he didn't need.
"Yes, sir."
Kel'Thuzad growled. "Don't 'sir' me, boy."
"Sorry."
Lady Jaina would say 'yes', or she would say 'no'. Soffriel wasn't prepared for either outcome. 'Yes' meant he chose to be condemned by his people. 'No' meant he was fated to exist as nothing more than a castaway thrall.
But 'yes' gave him a rush of something like joy when he thought about it. All he knew of 'yes' was the wonder he felt when Kel'Thuzad's magic pulled Soffriel's broken vertebrae back into place enough for him to kneel before Lady Jaina.
"Walk beside me."
Soffriel took one long step to get abreast of the lich. He said nothing more and they took the walk in silence.
They found Jaina in the same mostly-empty room where they had first been properly introduced. She was sketching diagrams in a notebook, but closed it and greeted them when they entered.
Soffriel couldn't read her expression. The scars on her cheeks distracted him, reminded him of the markings earned by kaldorei women when they passed their trials of adulthood. Jaina was human but she had earned her marks too.
"Is this what you want, Soffriel?" she asked.
"Yes, Lady King." Please let me be something like myself again.
"Then henceforth, you shall be Kel'Thuzad's apprentice."
Soffriel waited for a 'but'.
"And you will be my apprentice as well."
A sort of vertigo struck him. "What are the conditions?"
"Work hard and don't embarrass me," said Kel'Thuzad.
"Honour the vow you swore to your goddess. Be benevolent." Soffriel met Lady Jaina's gaze for the first time and her words struck him like a brand. His oath bound him to Elune, but now he was bound to Lady Jaina as well.
"Kel'Thuzad will be responsible for all of your necromancy training. I will teach you ethics, theory, and your other practical skills."
Soffriel nodded, then felt nauseous from the motion.
"Yes, Lady King."
"From now on, I'm Jaina."
"Yes," he said faintly. "Jaina."
"Tomorrow morning, at three after dawn, come to the laboratory. We'll start by testing some basic skills to get a sense of your knowledge."
Soffriel couldn't physically throw up but he sure felt like he was about to.
"You won't be alone. I have another apprentice as well. Her name is Kinndy and though her curriculum is different from yours, you've both come here for the same purpose, at the same time, and it only makes sense to teach you together. And I always found my studies less daunting with an ally." She smiled. It was a real smile, not just an expression but an extension of happiness. She looked forward to having him as an apprentice.
"Thank you, L- Jaina."
He needed to leave and it seemed he was allowed to, so he bowed to both of his teachers and walked briskly out of the room.
"Come with me."
Kel'Thuzad led him away. Soffriel walked beside him, reeling from Jaina's decision. Some animal part of him panicked at the idea that he belonged to the lich and his King now, as he had before, and told him to run, run and hide.
But running didn't work before. Now he was undead, ruined and damned, and running would only make him lost again. This time Soffriel would stand his ground.
"I'll not have my apprentice going around with such deplorable reanimation work." Kel'Thuzad interrupted his panic. "You're held together by my hasty patching and sheer good luck."
"I appreciate your work, sir- Kel'Thuzad." Soffriel hesitated. After several more steps, Soffriel added: "Is that the name your parents gave you, or a name you gave yourself?"
The lich hissed a chuckle. "My parents."
"Did they know what it meant?"
"Don't beggar your boldness now by dancing around the question, Soffriel."
"Were you raised by my people?"
"I was. Don't worry; I left them long before my name became a curse."
His name was unique to human ears, but little more than a descriptor to the kaldorei. Son of autumn ice. It was a parent name, the name a child wore until they were old enough to choose their own, or keep it. Soffriel kept his because he liked it. Kel'Thuzad could have chosen a human name, but he didn't, so Soffriel thought he must like his name too.
But he had never known his people to take in a human child. The other way round, yes, but humans lived short, turbulent lives and who wanted a son that died before them? Died multiple times.
Kel'Thuzad had him sit on the low stool again but this time the lich sat facing him. He frowned and grumbled his way through a thorough assessment of Soffriel's apparently lacklustre resurrection.
The more Kel'Thuzad talked, the more Soffriel became amazed at his own survival. He should have been cannon fodder. He should have been culled from Death Knight training. He should have been paralyzed, mute, or lame.
"Jaina was right. You would have been a good doctor."
Kel'Thuzad grunted. "I much prefer the company of animals and corpses than people."
Soffriel couldn't tell whether the lich was being serious, perverse, or trying to provoke him, so he made a non-committal sound. Do I count as a corpse or a person?
Kel'Thuzad worked for hours, non-stop. Soffriel lost track of time. He sat obediently, moved when Kel'Thuzad bid him, and watched. At first he asked questions but after he exhausted his broader curiosity, he lacked the understanding to ask more specific things and fell silent.
"There we go."
The lich sat back. His lips curved into a sharp smile that showed a glimpse of fangs. Soffriel felt a surge of affection- not for Kel'Thuzad but for someone else he couldn't remember who also smiled with his teeth.
Kel'Thuzad bid him walk, then run, then climb, and Soffriel moved as he once had, light and agile. He was strong again, real strength, not the mania of forced bloodlust, or the weight of stubborn will.
"Thank you," Soffriel whispered.
The words felt much too small for what he had received. He couldn't begin to fathom what Kel'Thuzad had done for him but perhaps someday he could understand it, and with that ambition he felt a rush of something like joy again.
A/N: My biggest regret about Frostblood was leaving KT's backstory unfinished. Let us rectify that now! And thank you so much for the kind comments! I'm slow at replying to comments but I swear I will get to answering them all 3 And uploading some art. I hope you continue to enjoy this story and STAY SAFE EVERYONE! 3
