Chapter 18 – Terms of Employment

The imp's grin split its face from ear to ear. "So boss, what can I kill for you today?"

Brogan felt his stomach lurch. He had summoned a demon. In Stormwind. In front of dozens of people. Brogan's sense of horror was overwhelmed only by his self-loathing. This thing was one of the monsters that had killed his parents, as well as hundreds of thousands of other people. The demons had created the undead scourge. The demons had corrupted the orcs. A demon had forced him to take the blood pact.

'And now a demon is loose and it's my fault.'

The tiny creature snickered with glee and barely contained mischief. It scanned around and noticed Rasu at the foot of the table. Playfully it bounded down and examined his charred form.

"Wow boss, you really messed this guy up. What'd he do, sleep with your girl or something?"

Brogan made a choking noise. Fear and loathing were rapidly being replaced by hatred.

"Hey master, this guys in a lot of pain. Want me to help him out?"

Rasu groaned and stretched out his hand towards Brogan. The warlock nodded without thinking.

"Sure thing boss." And with that the imp hopped forward, grabbed Rasu's head, and in a single move twisted it backwards.

Brogan's cry of horror was surpassed by someone else's. The same woman who had cried out before was now shrieking in panic. The little monster smiled at her. Clapping its hands together, it created a ball of fire from nothing. "Looks like there are lots of people who need my help." It then threw the ball at a nearby clothing stall. The demonic flame exploded, spreading like a living creature until the entire shop was on fire. In the blink of an eye the demon threw again and again. Two more shops vanished into flames.

"Stop it!" Brogan screamed,

"Why boss? This is fun!" The demon hopped around impatiently looking for another target.

Brogan knelt next to Rasu 's dead body. The warlock took the charred card from the corpse's hand. "You little beast! You killed him!"

"Only 'cause you told me to! Look, he was dying anyway. I did him a favor."

Brogan's rage overtook him. He reached out for the creature, but it hopped away. "Aww, come on chief. Don't be like that. Think of all the fun we can have together."

"I'll kill you!"

"Not today you won't." The creature pointed up the street. Guards had begun pushing their way through the crowd. The imp smiled and rubbed his hands together. "Wahoo! Moving targets!"

The warlock didn't care. He pointed his finger at the demon and uttered a curse. The little beast yelped and finally stopped laughing. "Look boss, this was not in my contract." Brogan cast another spell and the demon snarled at him. "Nice try boss. Now let me teach you a thing or two about magic!"

The imp vanished, only to reappear above him in Helga's second story window. From there it tossed a fireball down at Brogan. The spell hit him in the arm, setting his shirt sleeve on fire but not harming his magical skin. Brogan ignored his burning clothes and had begun casting yet another spell when a city guard tackled him. The big man in heavy armor bore him to the ground.

"That's him!" The woman cried out. "That's the man who summoned the demon!"

Overhead the imp was cackling with laughter. "Hey boss, looks like you're in trouble. Want me to give you a ha..uurk!"

The demon spasmed and froze in place. Glowing green mystic energy held it immobilized. The very skin of the creature seemed to become transparent.

"I've got him." The guards pulled Brogan to his feet. "Don't try to escape, warlock! Quick, bind his hands and gag him!"

"That won't be necessary."

The crowd parted and a man in wizard's robes appeared. He wore maroon clothes, with golden-red hair and a goatee that matched the sky before sunset. He looked to be about forty winters old. In his right hand was a withered staff reinforced with silver banding. Gaunt features and pale skin framed eyes so brown they were almost black. The wizard stepped into the center of the bazaar and extended his hands. All of the various fires around the plaza flared and suddenly went out, including Brogan's shirt. It became very dark then. The sun had descended behind the western mountains about twenty minutes before.

"Thank you for your aid wizard. We captured the warlock, but his pet would have…"

"Silence!" The wizard held his hand up and immediately the guard stopped speaking. The red haired man stared intently at Brogan's eyes. Then he spoke words in another language, the language of the demons. "You seem to be both bold and stupid, tool of the Legion." By their looks the guards obviously could not understand what he said.

Brogan concentrated for a second. The demonic words came to him. "Please." He begged. "You have to help me."

"Oh?" The wizard raised one eyebrow. He considered for a second, then switched back to the human language and spoke to the guards. "Release my apprentice."

"Your apprentice?" the guard holding Brogan seemed confused.

"Yes, now release him. We must work together to banish this abomination. My holding spell will break soon, and we will all be in very real danger. At once, if you please."

The guard turned to look for someone in the crowd.

"Don't wait for permission, do as I say!" The wizard roared angrily. The guard immediately released Brogan, who stepped up next to the spellcaster.

"Stand back" the older man waved his staff at the guards. "You may disrupt the ritual if you are too close." He then turned his back to them and faced the demon. Brogan leaned close to him and whispered in the demonic tongue. "Thank you."

"Shut up, you fool." The gaunt faced wizard replied in the same language. His gaze was fixed on the demon. "Did you summon that imp?"

"er... yes."

"Then all you must do is dismiss it. Quickly, before my spell breaks."

"I don't know how."

"You don't know how!" The wizard roared with anger and smashed Brogan in the head with his staff. The blow was powerful, sending Brogan to his knees. "How could anyone be so stupid as to show a boy your age how to summon this beast, and not reveal the incantations of dismissal? Who is your master boy? The coven does not take kindly to those who endanger our cause!"

"I… I don't have a master."

"Liar!" The wizard swung his staff again. Brogan raised his arm to defend himself and the staff struck his wounded left hand. Pain shot up from Brogan's fingers, and he cried out in anguish.

"Who taught you the words boy? And don't lie to me, I'll know!"

"Her name was Balba'yorn. She's one of them!"

The wizards drew in his breath at the woman's name. He then turned back to the imp. The pulsing green light around it suddenly faded, and the creature broke free of it's bindings with a feral cry. Immediately the wizard threw out his hand and spoke a single word. There was a crack like thunder and the imp fell lifeless from the window. Its body plummeted through the air and caught fire as it did. The remains that landed on the street burned brightly for a second, and then vanished leaving only a rancid smell and a dark spot on the pavement.

As he rose to his feet Brogan stared at the cobblestone where the body should be. "Is it dead?"

"We should be so lucky." The wizard answered. "Demons are not of this world. So it is exceedingly difficult to destroy them here. Their essence will often escape when their physical bodies are destroyed. That is why it's so important to draw a shard from them when they are about to die."

"A shard?" Brogan asked in confusion.

"Impossible!" The wizard swung his staff and again smashed it into Brogan's skull. This time the boy fell to the street like a rag doll. He cried in pain and clutched his head.

"Now see here!" The guard approached! "Master wizard, I appreciate your assistance, but I can't stand by and watch you beat this boy!"

"Stand aside, footman. You know nothing of what has transpired here! My useless excuse for an apprentice has put the entire city in danger. For you see that man…" the wizard pointed at Rasu's charred corpse. "That man has been consorting with demons!"

A mass of gasps and cries came from the crowd. "That's not true!" One of the shopkeepers shouted. "I've known Rasu all my life. He hated magic."

The wizard turned to answer him. "Of course he did. That is because this is not Rasu. The Rasu you know died days ago. This is a magical doppelganger. A demon in disguise. It has the power to speak and look like its victim. It was sent to scout the population of Stormwind and find those among you whose faith in the Light and the Alliance is weak. Then it would offer you jewels or power in return for your souls. My apprentice discovered this. But rather than report back to me like he should have, he attempted to confront the creature alone. It is a good thing I arrived when I did."

"Indeed." The guard moved towards Brogan. "Are you alright boy?" The warlock only groaned in response.

"I will take him home and see that he recovers."

"I'm sorry, master wizard." The guard interrupted. "I need to ask him some questions first."

Just then one of the charred storefronts groaned and gave way. Timber and dust flew everywhere. The guard ran towards the collapse, temporarily forgetting the spellcasters. The wizard grabbed Brogan's remaining shirt sleeve and hauled him to his feet.

"Move. Quickly. If they catch you you'll be strung up from the gallows before dawn!" The wizard pushed Brogan towards the opposite side of the bazaar. Soon they reached the edge of the onlookers, who parted as they approached. Behind them were masses of commoners who had just arrived to see what all the commotion was about. The wizard shoved Brogan forward and after half a minute they were though the crowd and moving under the archway towards the canal.

"Wait..." Brogan muttered as he rubbed his aching head. "Where are we going? My inn is the other way."

The wizard half chuckled and brought him to a pier at the edge of the canal. The waterways separated the city's neighborhoods, and were designed to allow for easy defense against enemies. In times of relative peace boat owners could do brisk business offering transport to weary shoppers, or renting their crafts out to young couples for scenic rides. The wizard hailed once such skiff over to the dock.

"Stop." Brogan attempted to pull his sleeve away, but the wizard's grip was too strong. "I have friends waiting for me."

"Not anymore you don't." The wizard pulled Brogan towards the boat. "Harry, it's me. You know where to take us. Make it fast and quiet and I'll double your rate."

Anger welled up in Brogan. "I can make you release me." He threatened.

The wizard turned and locked eyes with him. "Oh, do you really think so? That imp was the weakest of the Legion's agents, and he made you out to be the fool. You're lucky it thought you were more entertaining alive than dead, because it was about to make short work of you."

"I'm going home."

"You don't have a home anymore. Not in this city. Don't you get it? A man is dead. People saw you summoning that demon. The lies I told the guards will only confuse them for a moment. They will be searching for you, and that amateur disguise spell won't hold up to real scrutiny."

Brogan took a step back. "You can see me? I mean… the real me?"

"Yes. Now get in the boat!" the wizard was loosing patience.

"Why?"

"Because I can free you from Balba'yorn."

Brogan froze. He felt as though his whole world was suddenly standing on its head. Feelings of humiliation from only moments ago floated to mind. 'I'm desperate for any sign of a way out. Does this wizard know that? Can he read my mind?'

"How do I know I can trust you?"

The wizard released Brogan's sleeve, only to grab his left hand. He pressed his thumb down hard onto the freshly wrapped wound, and then released it.

"When someone swears the blood pact, they sacrifice a portion of their flesh as a sign of fealty to the powers of the Twisting Nether. The wound is magical. It will never heal, never fade. And no magic can hid it for long. It is how we can know each other." The wizard grabbed the neckline of his robe. Pulling down he revealed a narrow scar just below his right collar bone. Even in the fading light Brogan could see it was red and raw, but the skin near the edges had scarred over. It was almost as though the same wound had reopened again and again for years.

"You're a warlock?"

"Say it a little louder, idiot!" The wizard swore and practically threw Brogan into the boat. The younger warlock staggered and sat abruptly in his seat. The elder one pressed some coins into Henry the boatman's hands and they shoved off. As they moved away from the bank, the robed man muttered under his breath. Darkness seemed to rise from the waters and in seconds the city on both sides vanished.

"Your pursuers won't be able to follow us now. Of course, there will be an investigation into the death, there always is. What a disaster. A merchant killed in broad daylight by a demon, right here in the heart of Stormwind. Dammit boy, there's going to be hell to pay."

Brogan said nothing. He merely held his throbbing head with his aching hand and stared at the man with ferocious distain. The wizard matched his gaze for a moment, then turned and looked out into the darkness. The sounds of the city and groans of the till were the only noises. It was oddly relaxing. Brogan felt some of his anxieties slip away and he reflected a bit on the events of the last half hour.

"I suppose I should thank you." Brogan said after a while. "You saved my life. Even if you did beat me."

"Thanking me is the least you could do boy." The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a wooden pipe. He began stuffing it with dark weed. "And as for the violence I will not apologize. I cannot stand stupidity, and you seem to be quite stupid."

Brogan ignored the insult. "I guess we should introduce ourselves. My name is Brogan. I'm…"

"Shut up!" The wizard dropped his pipe and half-rose from his seat like he was about to hit Brogan. "Fool boy, you really don't know anything do you? NEVER tell ANYONE your birth name! EVER! There is power in true names. Demons can control you and through you everyone around you. Your true name is the last barrier to your soul, and once they have that, you'll be nothing more than their puppet. You must protect your name at all costs.

Brogan said nothing. He sat there, his face burning with shame. The wizard's features softened somewhat, but his black eyes retained their harsh look.

"I have a nephew in Westfall. My sister's son. He's an idiot, who doesn't know when he's in trouble so deep that he'll never get out. You remind me of him. His name is Farlsworth, so that's what I'll call you. You can call me Gakin."

"Gakin." Brogan repeated. "That's your false name?"

"One of many." He replied. "It's useful to have several names, considering the business we do."

"You mean being warlocks."

"You don't approve of warlocks, Farlsworth?"

Brogan scowled at that name. He didn't like it. "Warlocks are evil."

"Probably shouldn't have become one then."

"I didn't have a choice!" Brogan growled. This guy was starting to remind him of Mythril.

"Your kind seldom do."

"What do you mean 'your kind'?"

"Felsworn. Covenless warlocks." Gakin reached down and picked up the pipe he dropped. "The burning legion is constantly seeking new soldiers to fight their wars for them. They probe our dreams the way wolves watch a flock of sheep. They seek out people who are sensitive enough to hear them, preferably once with weak wills who are easy to control."

"Are you saying I'm easy to control? You have no idea what I've been through."

"Think not? How's this sound? Demons will often try to manipulate felsworn into situations where you accomplish their goals for them. They destroy your homes. They distance you from your family and friends. They give you a taste if power and promise you an easy way to get something that was previously beyond your reach. They place you in dangerous situations where you are forced to depend on their aid to survive. And all the while they're subtly removing all your emotional supports. In the end, you'll be alone, with no one to trust except the voice in your head. The voice that feeds off your fear and despair. Any of this sound familiar?"

Brogan sat in silence at his end of the skiff. About half a minute went by while Gakin's words began to sink in. The elder warlock placed the pipe in his mouth. He then sucked in the air and the pipe magically lit itself. He took a long drag, and exhaled slowly.

"Don't be too hard on yourself Farlsworth. You've still got your soul, I can see that. And you're not alone anymore. The coven will be able to help you. We can teach you wards that will protect your thoughts from prying eyes, and offer some small respite from the demon's manipulations. We can give you the tools you to protect your soul."

"I thought…" Brogan paused as he tried to phrase his words correctly. "I thought all warlocks worked for the demons. That you are all on the side of the Legion."

Gakin chuckled and took a long drag off his pipe. "Nobody hates demons more than warlocks, Farlsworth. Well, maybe the elves do. But no one is better at fighting them than we are. That's why the king allows us to stay here."

"The king knows there are warlocks in Stormwind?"

Gakin nodded. It's a secret, and a tightly kept one. The night elves would probably go to war with us if they knew. Lordaeron too. But this kingdom has been ravaged more by the Horde than by the Burning Legion. Some of the nobles have convinced the king that Ogrimmar is more immediate threat than an army of monsters from another dimension. But we needed spies. So a small group of mages offered to defect in order to gain knowledge of the enemy. And it's been working rather well. Our coven had probably destroyed more demons in the last five years than Aegwynn did in the last fifty."

Brogan didn't say anything. He didn't know who Aegwynn was but he was tired of looking stupid in front of Gakin. They rode in silence for a while more. Brogan noticed that he head didn't hurt anymore. Probably because of his magical skin.

"So the king trusts the Coven?" Brogan said at last.

"Of course not. And with good reason. We're talking about people who consort with demons after all. Never trust a warlock Farlsworth, even myself. Always assume we're trying to use you as a tool for our own ends. That's the way demons think. The sooner you start thinking that way, the longer you'll live."

"If warlocks don't trust each other, why form a coven?"

"Mutual protection. Shared resources. It's a brotherhood of convenience. Our alliance with the demons gives us power that most men only dream of. Power to take what we want by brute force or by subtle manipulation. Once you know the desires within a man's heart you can trust that man to do what's in his best interest."

"Sounds like trying to walk in a pit of vipers."

Gakin laughed. "Ironically people in the coven are surprisingly honest, if somewhat rude. Everyone knows everyone else is out to further his own power, so why waste time lying about it. Things work a lot faster if you just cut to the chase."

"So what does that say about us? You and me? How does bringing me to the coven help you?"

Gakin smiled. "So you're not completely stupid. That's good. Well, there are two reasons. The first is that we can't let covenless felsworn wander the streets of Stormwind summoning imps and causing havoc. It's bad for business, so to speak. It just so happens that it's my responsibility to report the coven's activities to the powers that be. So having you off the street makes my life easier."

"That makes sense. What's the second reason?"

"I'll tell you in just a second." Gakin pointed ahead of them. The magical darkness surrounding the skiff gave way to real darkness as the boat entered an archway. Torches lined the walls, and after several minutes they still had not emerged into the moonlight. The sounds of the till seemed to close in on them and Brogan had the impression of being deep below the city.

"Where are we?" Brogan asked. He was whispering, but still his voice seemed to echo in the darkness.

"Below the mage district. This is where we can meet in safety. There are several entrances. I'll show you the one in the Slaughtered Lamb. That's the easiest one for initiates."

Brogan felt an unnatural cold in addition to the tunnel's dank atmosphere. The Slaughtered Lamb was where Balba'yorn had wanted him to go. Yet Gakin said the warlocks here were fighting against the demons. He also said not to trust him. How can you tell if a man is lying to you when he tells you not to trust him? Brogan was confused. Everything was suddenly upside down.

The image of the hanging man flashed in his mind. Rasu's words seemed to echo from the darkness. "He sees the world from a skewed perspective. He's an outcast, but he's happier because of it." Brogan looked at Gakin.

He then remembered the next card. Death.

More torchlight appeared and the entrance rose until the skiff entered a small cave. A tiny dock and stairs occupied the far end of the chamber. Several figures in black robes waited there.

"So yes, Farlsworth. To answer your question: the second reason I'm helping you is simple. The demon you mentioned, Balba'yorn, is of great interest to us. Particularly to our leader, Necrodamus.

In that instant everything in Brogan's life became crystal clear. The reason a demon would send him to a coven of demon fighters was standing right there on the docks. Necrodamus was taller than the other warlocks, and wore a brilliant ruby around his neck, probably to mark his rank as their leader. He wasn't as broad shouldered as his brother, or as fine featured as his daughter, but Nicholas Crownguard did have his family's piercing blue eyes.

'And I know his birth name.' Brogan swallowed.

Somewhere in the night, a woman's laughter echoed though the streets.