Chapter 4 – Unwelcome Callers

"Dinner is servered m'lady."

Claudette's voice penetrated Myrista's concentration. The adept opened her eyes and stared at the feather in her left hand. It glowed brightly, and bristled as though being consumed by an invisible flame. Myrista then looked down at her bare feet, and down six inches further to the floor. Between the floor and Myrista's feet was nothing but air. Air made solid by the magic of the Light. She looked back at the feather. As the spell consumed the last of its fronds the magic faded and Myrista gently sank to touch the floor.

Myrista donned her evening shoes, then proceeded downstairs. Claudette had set the table for dinner with the best settings they had. Myrista personally disliked entertaining. This had been her father's domain, but it was her duty as the only Crownguard at the manor to put on the best show possible. Edwynn's aunt would constantly remind her of how important it was to maintain appearances.

"You look lovely Lady Crownguard." She heard as she entered the dining room. Mythril was kneeling near the side of the table, at the place reserved for honored guests. Her size had caused problems in finding a chair that would fit her. She had finally insisted on using no chair at all, stating that it was the way of her people. She had also requested that the windows be opened, but a rainstorm had swept into Elwynn Forest. Weather in the spring was a swift affair, suddenly starting and often vanishing just as quickly. The rain could be heard coming down in sheets outside. Although the Crownguards were wealthy enough to have glass in their windows, Claudette insisted on closing the wooden shutters to prevent any panes from breaking.

"Thank you Mythril, you look very nice yourself. I love what you've done with your hair." Mythril's green locks had somehow become curled and living vines and flowers were now nestled within her tresses. She wore the same leather outfit she had been wearing in the kitchen, but the dust of the road had been washed away. Myrista took the seat opposite the night elf.

Mythril looked from her host around at the rest of the large dining table. She noted that it was empty except for the two place settings. "Will no one else be joining us?"

Myrista's weak smile was born of frustration. "In truth, I wish the others would join us. It is customary that noblemen not eat alongside their servants. My father was quite strict that only the Crownguards and their guests should dine together."

"Oh?" The elf seemed to settle in somewhat and opened her place setting. Inside were a normal sized human knife, fork, and spoon. Mythril sighed and cast her eyes around the room. Her gaze fell upon a marble bust of a proud looking man in the corner of the chamber. "Is that your father?"

"No, that's my uncle. Sir Mallius Crownguard. He is a paladin of Stormwind, and a former member of the Brotherhood of the Horse. This manor and the surrounding farmlands were awarded to him in honor of services he performed for King Llane."

"Then he is a brave knight?"

"Oh yes. He fought in the first war against the Horde. The stories say he was one of the first men to kill an orc. After Stormwind fell to the enemy, my uncle fought beside Sir Lothar against the horde in Kaz Modan. He was there at the battle of Blackrock Spire, and after Sir Lothar was killed, it was my uncle who recovered Lothar's runeblade and returned it to the king."

"He sounds quite valiant. Is he not here now?"

"No. He has not been home in… a long time. The king has sent our army to Lorderon to battle the undead scourge. My uncle usually writes letters, but we have not gotten any in quite some time."

"I see. Is your father a knight too?"

The question seemed innocent enough, but Mythril could see immediately that asking it upset Myrista. The host tensed up and began picking at her napkin. "No, my father Nicholas is away. He should be back any day now."

As if on cue, the door to the kitchen opened and Claudette entered. The timing made Mythril suspect that the housekeeper had been eavesdropping. She was wearing a string of pearls as she pushed a cart heaping with vegetables, and laid out a meal before Mythril. A fine selection of spring berries, carrots, beats, and peas accented a delicious looking rabbit stew. Claudette ladled the elf a large serving.

"I heard that your people have powers over nature. I hope a helping of hare would not offend you."

"Why would it?" Mythril asked the elderly woman.

"Oh…well I heard that elves could talk to animals. I didn't know how you felt about… eating meat."

The look Mythril gave Claudette reminded Myrista of a child who was not fooled by a man with a fake beard dressed as Greatfather Winter. "It is true that my people are blessed by Elune to be closer to her kingdom, than your own people. Many of us are sensitive to the voice of the wind, or the creatures of the natural order. We understand intricately the relationships between hunter and prey. Rabbits are small, ravenous beasts who eat too much, breed too much, and certainly would overrun us all if their predators did not keep them in check."

"Oh, well I guess I never thought of it that way."

"Indeed." Mythril paused and seemed to dwell on something for a moment. "I suppose that if I was less sensitive, I might think of a rabbit as being… cute. The type of animal a human or dwarf would think of as a good pet. I can see how one of your people might think one of us would be adverse to their demise." The night elf paused and seemed to reflect for a moment before continuing. "Thank you Claudette. I feel that I have a better understanding now of how your kind thinks."

"Is that why you came to Stormwind? To learn more about how humans think?" Myrista asked as Claudette began serving her mistress's meal.

Mythril's ears wiggled oddly. She ate a bit of stew and wiped her mouth with her napkin before replying. "I do not wish to insult you Myrista. You are a most gracious host. But I am afraid I cannot discuss why I am here."

Myrista blinked in a kind of dumbfounded awe. "You can't tell me why you came to my house?"

"Oh goddess, no! Please do not misunderstand. I came to your house because I was hoping to find food and lodging for the night. What I meant was that I am compelled to not discuss why I left Kalimdor."

"Oh my…" was the only response Myrista had. Claudette finished serving the drinks, then departed back towards the kitchen. The young priestess thought about what the elf said as she sipped her stew. It was too hot. Myrista had a brief fantasy about Mythril being some kind of princess in exile. Far more likely, she realized, was that the newcomer was a criminal of some form. Perhaps she had stolen the star ruby, and was fleeing the wrath of it's rightful owners. Myrista decided to end her uncertainty.

"Are you in some sort of trouble that we should know about?"

Mythril said nothing. She had stopped eating and was staring at her food. There was a knock at the dining room's double-door, but Myrista ignored it and sat looking at the elf.

"Mythril, what sort of…"

"I should go." Her guest said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

The knock came again at the chamber doors. Myrista shot the doors a dirty look but said nothing. "Um, I don't understand. Did I say something to insult you? I didn't mean to pry."

"It is nothing that you've said, good lady. I should apologize to you for my attitude. It is not our nature to be deceitful to those we respect. In truth, my circumstances are actually quite dire, and my will to continue on my quest has all but left me. I was hoping to gain some respite here, if only for a few hours. Perhaps…"

The knock at the door came again, this time accompanied by Corbin's voice. "Mistress Myrista, I must regrettably interrupt."

Myrista sighed and stood up. "Please give me just a moment." She then went to the chamber doors, and quickly opened one and stepped outside. Corbin stood alone in the hallway. Myrista shut the door behind her and rounded on him. "What in the Light's name could be so important?"

"I'm sorry m'lady, but you have a caller."

"What? In this weather? Who is it?"

"One of your classmates from the abbey. Probably one of my nephew's hoodlum friends. He seems quite put out."

"Really?" Sarcasm laced Myrista's voice. She began moving towards the great hall. "Where's Edwynn?"

"I don't know m'lady. He hasn't been seen since this afternoon. If he's smart, he won't left me find him, because he knows I will whip him raw when I see him."

The pair arrived in the main hall to find Claudette attending to a young man, soaked to the bone by the weather. Myrista recognized him instantly.

"Brogan? What are you doing here at this hour?"

The adept turned from Claudette to Myrista, and she knew at once something was terribly wrong. He looked like a ghoul. His eyes were bloodshot, like he had been drinking or crying. The rain had drained all the warmth from his skin, which in turn was now a pasty white. His blonde hair was matted down on his head and neck, and he was starting to create a puddle on the foyer's floor.

"Edwynn isn't here Brogan. I'm sorry if you…"

"Where's your father's diary Myrista?"

Myrista stopped in her tracks. Corbin and Claudette shot each other a long glance but said nothing.

M…my father didn't keep a diary. You must be mistaken. Now what's going on?"

"You should ask your servants to leave."

Corbin bristled and immediately objected. "See here young man. You are talking to a lady in her own house. Now I do not like your tone. Perhaps it would be best if you left." The older man reached out to take Brogan's arm.

"It's bound in black leather." The boy said as he twisted away. "It's held closed with a thick black cord, wrapped around a silver wolf's head clasp affixed to the cover. The pages are bone white, and your father's handwriting is small and fine, making it difficult to read.

"Corbin, stop!" Myrista ordered as her man finally got a firm grip on Brogan's arm. "How do you know all of this?"

"Dismiss your servants and I'll tell you."

Myrista's lower lip began to tremble. She clenched her fists tightly as she took a deep breath. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. "Master and Misses DeTemms, please ask Mythril to wait for me. I will see to this."

"I must protest my lady." Corbin began. "This rude person should be tossed out immediately."

"Do it now, Corbin!" like earlier in the afternoon, Myrista's self control began to crumble. Claudette gathered her skirts around her and spead towards the kitchen. Corbin released Brogan's arm, but left more slowly. After a couple of seconds the two schoolmates were alone.

"Take me to the book Myrista."

"First tell me how you know what it looks like. By the shadow's kiss, tell me how you even know he had one."

Brogan ran a hand thru his hair, sending a cascade of water splashing loudly onto the hardwood floor. He rapidly blinked his bloodshot eyes and Myrista thought he was about to start crying. Her mind raced back to this afternoon, to the road from the abbey, and how torn Brogan had seemed before he asked about her father's whereabouts.

"I…I know about the diary because I had a dream about it." Brogan looked at her, afraid of some reaction. She said nothing, so he continued. "Well, not exactly a dream. And not just one. It's more substantial than just a dream. It's like I'm awake, but I can't really control myself. I see the diary and…and I hear a voice."

Brogan tried to gauge how Myrista was reacting to his words. Her face was flat, but her eyes burned and her nostrils flared as she breathed.

"Follow me." She said. She then turned and almost bolted towards the rear of the house. Across from the dining room was her father's study. Myrista entered, and as Brogan followed her inside, she closed the door behind her and locked it.

"It started about a year and a half ago." She spoke more to herself and to Brogan. "My father was having trouble sleeping. He didn't think I knew, but I could tell something was wrong. He started drinking a lot, and he started staying here in the study a lot. We should hear him talking softly to himself sometimes. At least, it was soft in the beginning."

Myrista moved to a cabinet near one side of the room. It was a beautiful glass and wood construct. Held within in were several of the family heirlooms and treasures. Two rows of old books were on the bottom. Above that was a shelf containing several battle trophies of Myrista's uncle Mallius. A wicked looking whip, a broken sword, an obsidian hourglass, and a pendant in the shape of a horse's head. On the topmost shelf had been placed the uncut gemstone Mythril had given them. She pulled a silver key from her pocket and unlocked the cabinet.

"Last spring daddy started getting worse. He stopped drinking completely, almost stopped eating. He would go to the abbey and bring back obscure tomes from the library there. Books about geography, and astronomy, and magic. He became totally uninterested in the estate, or his friends, or… his family."

Reaching into the cabinet, Myrista pulled out a think green tome from the bottom shelf. Behind it was a thin black ledger. The young woman delicately pulled it out and stared at it.

"My daddy started talking to other people then, people I couldn't see or hear. They would ask him questions. They asked him to do things for them. He shouted at them a lot. Told them to stay away from his family. The last time I saw my daddy he was at that desk, by the window, writing in this book. I had rushed home from the abbey to tell him something… I don't even remember what it was now. I threw open the door to the study and daddy, he screamed at me. But it was the words he said… they were in another language. A language I didn't know. Then he ran across the room and grabbed me. He picked me up and just threw me out… just threw me right out of the room. Then he slammed the door and locked it. The next morning the door was open and he was gone.

"What did he say to you?" Brogan asked.

"He said 'Alkarzoth Nekrothian Socra'. I'll never forget it."

"Al'karzooth Nekrothean Sukra" Brogan repeated, altered slightly.

Myrista looked at him for the first time since they entered the room. "What does it mean?"

Brogan glanced at the hallway door. The wood looked thick, but he was sure that someone could listen through it if they really wanted to. "You know what language it is, right?"

"Yes I do, and I don't care. You should have seen brother Paxton's face when I asked him to translate it for me. He refused to help me, refused to even try! Please Brogan, those were the last words my father ever said to me. I have to know what he said."

Brogan closed his bloodshot eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "It means: I told you to stay away. Well… kind of . There's a subtlety to it. I'm not very good at…"

Myrista threw herself into his arms and started sobbing hysterically. "It's my fault! It's all my fault! If I hadn't come in… He wouldn't have gotten angry… He wouldn't have left…"

Brogan didn't know how to react. He started to put his arms around her in a comforting manner, but stopped when he realized that his rain soaked sleeves would just get her wet. He resolved to gently pat her head until she calmed down.

Brogan's hand suddenly stopped and his body stiffened. Myrista looked up and saw him starting intently across the room. She followed his gaze to the window above the desk. The shutters had been blow open by the wind. Outside the evening was dark, and the rain was thick.

"Someone's out there." Brogan answered her unspoken question. "I saw…"

The window shattered inward. Rain and glass flew into the room. A heartbeat later a figure entered, a man. Rain covered black leather and a red mask were all Myrista saw before her eyes were drawn to the gleaming blade in his hand.

"Bandits!" Brogan screamed like a girl and moved to place himself between the man and Myrista. She watched in terror as a second figure appeared at the window. The first one began to circle the desk and approach the two of them. Brogan reached into the open cabinet, grabbed the broken sword, and threw it awkwardly at the intruder. The masked man parried it with his knife and a laugh.

Myrista broke away from Brogan and ran for the door. She grabbed the handle and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. She glanced back to see that both bandits were now in the room, closing in slowly on the unarmed Brogan. She turned back and pulled harder on the door. It was then that she realized that she herself had locked it. As she threw the latch, the door flew open and she practically fell into the hallway.

Screaming for help, Myrista ran towards the main hall. She saw Corbin stumbling towards her, his chest red with blood. Behind him a masked man raised a wicked club, and with a single blow ended his victim's life. Behind that man, half a dozen other bandits crowded the foyer around a woman standing next to an enormous red hound. Myrista's screaming had drawn all of their attention.

The girl turned and ran back the way she had come. Across from the study, the dining room's double-door was gaping open. Ducking inside, she saw the two spots laid out for dinner, but Mythril was nowhere to be seen. Myrista fled towards the kitchen, but a bestial noise sounded behind her and a heavy weight hit her in the back. The floor flew up to meet her and then everything was black.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Brogan lay dying in the corner of the study. The only thing stopping the blood from a wound in his stomach was own hands clutching the skin together. He kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of people moving around the room speaking.

"The dark god has granted us favor indeed today." A woman's voice said. "It's here! The book we've sought for so long is here! And look Crassus, all of these other volumes have value to us as well. 'The Rise of Neitherguard Keep', the Magic of the Stars'. By the shadow, here's a book penned by Archmagus Khadgar himself.

A second voice, high-pitched and whiney, interrupted. "My men had finished searching the manor. There's no sign of the elf or the item you described."

"It does not matter." The woman responded. "We don't need her or her stolen trinket anymore. This is a trove of unfathomable power."

"No." A third voice, deep and smooth sounded. "This is too convenient. Almost all the resources we would need to complete our task fall right into our laps? I don't like it."

"It is the will of the Dark God, Crassus!"

"It is a trap Onessa! Don't you see? These books are here because someone else has begun the work. That means someone else has read the scared tome."

"Who? One of these village simpletons?"

"I doubt it. Garrik, what do you know of the man who's house this is?

"Not much." The high-pitched voice answered. "Some guy who went crazy and disappeared. The housekeepers and his kid are the only ones who live here now."

"We'll need to find him. Keep the girl alive. Loot the manor, then burn it. Kill anyone else you see.

A weak moan escaped Brogan's lips. The voices stopped.

"How much do you think he heard?"

"It matters not." The woman's voice answered. "My pets will feast on him."

Brogan managed to open his eyes in time to see the demonic hound approaching. Its massive paws stopped right before him, and he almost gagged on the beast's sulfur-laden breath. Jaws gapped open, and the boy could tell the creature was watching him. Intelligent eyes seemed to drink in his fear. The open maw descended towards his head.

"Stop. Please… don't." He heard himself beg. The words sounded odd in his ears.

"Hold!" Onessa's voice rang out. Brogan heard her footsteps approach him.

"Please, please don't kill me." Brogan pleaded. Something was happening as he spoke. His tongue and lips were moving oddly, and the words he spoke sounded harsh and alien.

"What's he say'n?" The man named Garrik asked. "I can't understand him."

"I can." The woman stared at the dying boy, fascinated. "This is most interesting. Keep this one alive too. Now, let's get out of here."

Rough hands grabbed Brogan and hauled him up from his pool of blood. Pain exploded across his midsection and he screamed. One of his captors was kind enough to beat him unconscious.