Chapter 12 – Consequences

Edwynn woke with a start. Cold earth and grass poked his bare skin. He was incredibly hungry, and his right leg ached. It was dark, almost pitch black. He was outside somewhere. Dark dreams faded from his mind. Dreams of fire and death. Of burning eyes and masked men. A purple elf-woman, with a cat's head and bear fur for skin. It was all so vivid.

Someone stirred next to him and Edwynn jumped. In the dim light he could make out Myrista's sleeping shape. 'What the heck is she doing here? What the heck am I doing here?' He moved to shake her awake.

"I wouldn't…" came a familiar voice from the darkness.

Edwynn turned his head too fast and dizziness overwhelmed him. Closing his eyes, he put his hand to his forehead until the world stopped spinning. When things settled down, he cautiously opened his eyes, afraid of what he would see.

His worst fears were realized.

Brogan sat about six feet away, his back to an oddly shaped rock. Edwynn could see him wearing a brown cloak and oversized pants with no shoes. His black skin was difficult to discern, but the coal-red glow of his eyes marked his location. Looking down at himself, Edwynn saw that the tunic he wore was torn and splattered with blood. Some of it was his own, some of it was not.

"It… wasn't a dream?" He muttered.

"No." Brogan's voice was filled with a deep anger.

Edwynn looked around. They were surrounded on all sides by unremarkable trees. "Where are we?"

Brogan looked confused for a moment. "Oh yeah, you passed out. We're probably a little more than halfway between the abbey and Goldshire. We've been on the run for about two hours, maybe three. Myrista couldn't take the pace, so Mythril dumped us here and said she'd be back. That was a long time ago."

"Oh…" Edwynn shivered and unconsciously moved closer to Myrista for warmth. The rogue looked at the warlock enviously. "Where'd you get the cloak?"

"Same place I got the pants: off one of the dead Difias. Mythril killed about a dozen of them while you and I were rescuing Myrista from the cellar. Remember when Onessa said I had killed twenty people? That was because Mythril was moving around taking out the bandits one at a time. I just wish we'd had time to loot some shoes. My toes are freezing.

Somehow the idea of a man who could melt people, or throw balls of shadowy death, having cold toes entertained Edwynn. The rouge chuckled a little "Why not just start a fire?"

"Mythril said it was too dangerous. Mythril said a fire would give away our location. She said… You know what? She's a real bitch if you ask me."

"Hey!" Edwynn gave Brogan a hard look. "She saved our lives! We'd be dead now if nor for her!"

"Exactly. Instead we're here, half naked in the woods."

"Well why don't you just go home? Your house can't be more than two miles…"

"LOOK AT ME!" Brogan's eyes flared hot white. "Do you think I can go home? You think I can face my family like this? Didn't you see the way she looked at me? That's how they'll ALL look at me! I can't go back. I can NEVER go back. What do you think is going to happen when we get to Goldshire, huh? I'll just walk into the inn and ask for a room? You guys get to rent a room, but one look at me and the guards will come running!"

"Lower your voice." Mythril's tall form melted out from the darkness. Her white starlight eyes made a sharp contrast from Brogan's smoldering maroon. The warlock said nothing, seeming to withdraw into his cloak. The elf squatted down and gave him a curious look. Her ears wiggled and Edwynn wondered if she was sad, or perhaps filled with pity.

"What is your name?"

"You know my name. Its Brogan." He said bitterly.

"Humans have surnames, do you not? You have a family?"

Edwynn was about to answer with the name of Brogan's foster family, but the warlock cut him off.

"Brogan Maguskhaer. Of the Dalaran Maguskhaers."

"Indeed." Mythril seemed unimpressed. "Very well, Brogan Maguskhaer. You should know that your situation is not unique. Among my people there are many who have been touched by the Legion's corruption. They are marked with deformations, such as claws and horns. Their faces are cruel, and their feet have become as the hooves of the woodland creatures. My people have cast them out of our villages and our forests, for they do little good, and can cause immeasurable harm. We true elves pity the satyrs, and we see killing them as a mercy. I am certain that your own people will view you in much the same fashion.

Edwynn shivered despite himself. Brogan looked down and plucked absent mindedly at the grass.

"So you're saying I'm doomed then." He said after a long pause.

"Of course you are doomed, you are a human." Mythril made another odd face. Like she was watching a child discovering a simple truth. "The circumstances of your fates may vary, but no force in the universe can prevent the inevitable. Trust me boy, as someone who was once immortal, I know."

Mythril rose suddenly, her ears twitching. She stared into the darkness between the trees for several seconds. "We have tarried too long. We should go."

"There's no point in going on. Leave me. Or better yet, kill me now."

"As you wish." Mythril opened her palm and evil green glow filled it. She raised her hand to the young warlock. Brogan gasped and stood up quickly.

"You wouldn't…"

"You asked me to." Mythril's voice sounded annoyed.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"Oh?" The glow did not fade from the elf's hand.

"I… It was… I was just… you know…"

"Brooding? Feeling sorry for yourself? Hear my words Brogan Maguskhaer, and take them into your heart: This world had little room for fools who cannot abide by their own choices. You may have sworn the blood pact, but you are human. The masters of the Burning Legion will always see you as a tool. They are Demons, child and demons feed on despair. They will drink your self pity, and grow strong by it. They will use you, and once your use has ended, you will be discarded."

Brogan sneered. "It's not fair!"

"You are absolutely correct. In life we each have a path we must walk. You have chosen your path. Now you must walk it. The difficulties that have been set before you are there because of the decisions you have made."

"You think I wanted this? To look like this? To have this… affliction? It wasn't my fault! The choice was this or death!"

"A choice which remains before you. Death will certainly be easier. It still can be. But the choice is yours to make and we do not have time for your indecision." Mythril turned to Edwynn. "Wake her up. We are leaving." And without another word she turned her back on the children and marched into the woods.

They broke camp in a somber silence. Myrista barely said a word. She seemed, like Edwynn had, to assume the night's events were some horrible dream, and that she would awaken back in reality at any second. Edwynn simply took her hand and led her through the woods, and she followed like an obedient pet.

For his part, Brogan seemed to dwell on what the night elf said. He stopped complaining, and quietly passed out the last of the sausages. The links were small and uncooked, but Edwynn was starving. Myrista nibbled on hers, then passed it to Edwynn, who ate that one too. Brogan ate his slowly. By this time Mythril had reappeared to tell them that she had found a deer trail leading south. She informed them that they were to follow her through the woods.

The next several hours were a blur for Edwynn. Myrista was too cold and distracted to cast anything more than the most simple of healing spells. She tried to mend Edwynn's leg as best she could, but it was still very painful to walk on. The rogue asked Mythril to heal it, but she refused. She said that she needed all of her mystic energy in case they ran into any more trouble. But since the leg was good enough to walk on, she refused to transform back into a bear and carry him.

The forest between Goldshire and the abbey seemed endless. Mythril walked ahead of them and had no trouble moving in the near darkness. The storm clouds from earlier had moved away to the east, revealing a nearly full moon. This provided just enough light to see, but not nearly enough to avoid stumbling through the bush with enough noise to wake the dead. The druid began the journey by constantly reminding them to be quiet. After a while it seemed that she assumed this was impossible. They were, however, forbidden to talk to each other.

Edwynn's mind began to go over the events of his incredible evening. Looking back, some of the things he had done seemed rather amazing, possibly even heroic. He especially liked how he had hit a bandit square in the eye from five, no seven, paces away. The young man fantasized that one day they would tell stories about him around the firesides, the way they told stories about Myrista's uncle Mallius. Sadly, he knew it wouldn't happen, because in stories of heroes, you never heard about them fleeing shoeless through the woods away from an unseen enemy.

Before long, the scent of burning cedar wood caught the boy's nose. Soon after that, they broke through the brush to the edge of a small farm. The soil was newly tilled, and crops would soon be planted. The cedar scented smoke came from the chimney of a nearby homestead. No light could be seen from its' windows.

"That's the Mathers farm." Myrista offered quietly. "We're on the northeast side of town. The inn is that way." She pointed towards a small cluster of buildings.

"I don't suppose you have any money" Brogan asked.

Myrista shook her head. Edwynn remembered the bag he looted from one of his opponents back at the hideout. He upended the contents into his palm.

"Fifteen coppers. I suppose I could buy a glass of goat's milk."

Myrista turned to Mythril. "Surely you…"

"I carry no currency of value in human lands. I do have some herbs of note, but I doubt very much if they would be of value to anyone in a hamlet of this size."

Brogan removed his knapsack and began to rummage through it. "We've got one sausage left, a couple of old books, and this…" He pulled out something that caught the moonlight and held it.

"The star ruby!" Myrista cried out. "Where did you find it?"

"It was on the table in Onessa's study. I just shoved it into the knapsack without thinking. I bet it'll fetch more than just room and board for the night."

"No!" Myrista snatched the gem from Brogan and cradeled it to her chest. "Don't you see? This is all I have left. My home, my family, it's all gone. Burned. All but this…" The edges of her eyes began to shimmer with wetness.

Edwynn watched her with a pang of guilt. He was never especially attached to his aunt and uncle, and had always been dreaming of ways to escape the drudgery of his everyday lifestyle. Myrista had been the exact opposite. With her father gone and her uncle missing, there were only her family's physical possessions to cling to. Now the two children were destitute and hungry. The only thing they had left of value was the last piece of her heritage.

"Listen, Myrista." Edwynn began. "I'm sorry about the house n all, but we've got to start thinking about the future."

Brogan jumped to her defense. "Geeze, Ed! Show a little sympathy for the Light's sake. She's just lost everything!"

"No." Myrista sniffled. "Edwynn's right. It's just a stone… and we have to eat."

"Please, whatever you choose to do, choose it quietly." Mythril eyed the nearby farmhouse. "And quickly."

"I'll do it." Myrista swallowed back her tears. "I will go to the inn and barter the gem for dinner and lodging. We'll figure out some way to get Brogan and Mythril inside without drawing too much attention. And then…"

The young woman turned to face the Night Elf. She pulled her chin up and thrust her shoulders back. Her moisture rich eyes took a hardened stance, like diamonds. They reflecting the moonlight towards Mythril.

"Then, when we get inside, you're going to tell us what's going on. All of it. I want to know who those people were, and I want to know why they were after you. I want to know about the book, and about the demon, and about Brogan. And I want to know what all this has to do with my father."

"Wait a sec…" Edwynn felt his spine grow cold. He looked at Brogan. "Didn't you offer to trade the book for Myrista's life. Didn't you give it to one of the bandits!"

Brogan snickered and reached into the knapsack. Pulling out the thick green tome with the copper binding, he sneered. "Yeah. About that…"

Miles away to the north, Garrik Padfoot pulled at his hair and stared at his subordinate.

"They just disappeared? Gone?"

"Yes sir." The bandit cowered. "We searched the grounds. Every last inch. No tracks or nuthin'."

Padfoot swore. The hideout was destroyed and the culprits had escaped. VanCleef would hear about this. And soon. He had to do something fast or his own fate would be… sticky.

"We did get this though." The man presented a thick red book.

"What is it?" Padfoot asked. It wasn't widely known that he could not read.

"It's the book the boy gave me just before I cut his throat. I think it's the one the Twilight Hammer was after. It's called 'Powers of the Void.' It was written by someone called Khadgar.

"Useless. Throw it next to the tent. When the Marshall finds out it was me who ordered the hit on the Crownguard estate, he'll put a bounty on my head. Now leave me! I've got to figure out a way to salvage this situation."