Summoner Tylane

There were worse things in the world than reporting to Summoner Tylane. A bite from a venomous snake, or perhaps being chained to a rock in The Barrens, but Draes was never sure which fate was worst. A priest could abolish the ravages of venom, just as a mage could conjure pure spring water in the middle of a wasteland. What could warlocks do? Fuck all. Every month, he delivered the stack of reports that no one read so they could be filed away in a dank storage cell, or tossed in a brazier. Whichever the Summoner preferred. The portal to Tempest Keep was constantly under attack, making the journey toward it long and treacherous. The sun was low in the sky when he neared the portal. Fine red dust blanketed the island, so red that the scum Kaldorei who first settled these parts named it thusly--Bloodmyst Isle. The heat and desolation reminded Draes of Hellfire Peninsula, or perhaps it just reminded him of hell.

As he felt himself begin to slump in his saddle, a shimmer of violet light brought him upright. At long last. He kicked his mount to a gallop and the beast responded with such force that he nearly lost grip of the reins. Aye, a beast she was but she did not tire like normal horses did. The mounts of warlocks were called from the Nether, a realm where demons thrived without nourishment or sleep. A stableboy made to take his reins as he approached the small camp that guarded the portal.

"She doesn't require stabling," he said.

He had come upon the lad at least eight times on his missions to Tylane, each time denying stables and each time, the boy would nod and shuffle back to the mound of hay that served as his bed. Still mounted, he rode through the camp to the portal. Throwing back his hood, he saluted the two soldiers stationed at both sides of it.

One of them peered up at him, his eyes baggy from exhaustion. "Any news from Azuremyst?"

"Why, yes," he answered, enthusiastic. "We've regained control of The Exodar and it is snowing in Thousand Needles."

"We have The Exodar? For certain?" his eyes were wide with shock.

No, you idiot, he wanted to say, but there wasn't time for that. He had made poor time on the way to Bloodmyst, which left him with two sleeping arrangements that he wasn't keen on. Lodging in Tempest Keep, where he wasn't likely to get any sleep at all or in the ramshackle camp set up around the portal. Either option wasn't appealing, but he couldn't sleep on his mount.

"Late as always, I see," her voice came from behind a crumbling marble bookcase. "I don't know why you don't just let me summon you here myself."

Draes strode toward her voice, "I don't know, Tylane. You have a rather nasty habit of summoning me into your bedroom. Isn't it customary for the woman to at least cook her man a good meal before the bedding begins?"

Normally, he couldn't stomach this type of banter with women, but Tylane was an exception to many of his rules. A tall, willowy brunette with a stern face and high cheekbones, she had an allure to her that Draes could never quite define.

"You will address me as Summoner," Tylane said coolly. "As for the bedding. You've already made it clear that you can't handle me."

She came out from behind the bookcase, setting a stack of dusty scrolls atop her worktable. There wasn't time for this. He hadn't eaten since morning and the last thing he needed was to be drawn into one of Tylane's digressions for which there was never any hope of escape.

"I apologize, Summoner. Your reports, as delivered," he tossed the folders onto her worktable, scattering them perilously close to the pile of ancient scrolls that looked ready to crumble at a finger's touch.

If she was annoyed, she put every effort into keeping it from him. Lifting the folder at the top of the pile, she skimmed through it, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He shifted, a sudden tinge of awkwardness pinkened his cheeks and lowered his eyes. She had never bothered to read his reports before him and he highly doubted that a spark of interest in his activities motivated her.

She flicked to the last page, "Aw, the poor warrior," she pouted, "There's no happy ending?"

"He told us nothing, so we hacked his body up and burned it. You wouldn't call that a happy ending?"

Her eyebrow raised, "One less Draenei, to be sure. Two, if you count his woman. It says in your report that you killed her, yes? What was it like?"

Three if you count her baby. But he hadn't written that in the report. He raised his head defiantly. "It was like killing any other goat."

She merely tsk'ed. "Why do you bother lying to me, Draes?"

"You will address me as Vice-Summoner," he said, trying not to let the quaver in his voice show. Enough. It is no use to play the fool. She already knows of what happened in the forest. She is giving you a test, and you are failing it.

Tylane returned to sorting the scrolls. "These scrolls were hidden in the bowels of Tempest Keep. They were thrown into a potato sack, and marked as scrap metal."

"Get to the point." He wasn't going to let his guard down this time.

"They're just manifests. Of passengers they carried, fruits and wines they transported, of repairs and the like. Useless information. So why hide it?"

Draes rolled his eyes. Ridiculous. "Perhaps the customs officials in Draenor were real bastards and didn't allow fruits to be transferred between planets."

"Perhaps."

Her eyes beheld him for a moment before she tossed his reports into the brazier with a flick of the wrist. The flames rose to consume it, swallowing the file whole until no record remained of his treachery. Some part of him cried out against the burning. He wanted it to be known what he did. If people knew, he could tell them why. He could defend himself, and if he failed at that at least he could be punished. Masochist.

"The very last line," she unfurled the scroll, pointing her slender finger to the spot on the old parchment.

Draes' brow furrowed when he read it. His Draenei wasn't the best, but the letters didn't seem to form any word he recognized. He opened his mouth to speak, but wasn't sure what to say to such an anomaly.

"A code?" he suggested.

She smiled, "The master sequence code. Our King, wise as the sun is bright, ordered it to be tested on all Draenei vessels, but it was only compatible with The Exodar. If we had more time, our engineers could have rigged it so that we had remote access to the ship's functions. We could have grounded The Exodar, locked every door within it and slaughtered those fools where they stood."

"Twice you've said 'could have.' What we could have done matters little now. In fact, it doesn't matter at all."

"Draes," she said softly, sweetly. "You misunderstand what I'm trying to say."

Tylane went to him, her cloth shoes barely making a sound as she closed the distance between them. The reaction he felt to her closeness sickened him. A flush of heat crept up the back of his neck and he felt his cock stiffen beneath his rough traveling robes. Images flashed through his mind of her on the table, no, the floor. The things they could do..the pleasure he could give her, or she him. The temptation to take her almost overwhelmed him and he knew that seduction was another game she played, but his body betrayed him and his mind would follow suit in a matter of time. This was why they kept their distance from each other. Fel energy was potent in the both of them to the point where they were drawn to each other's stores of it like moths to the lantern.

He took a step back.

"What I meant, my dearest student, was that no one is ever who they say they are. It's a cliché, tired bit of advice that has been true for as long as our people have been walking on two legs. The scrolls were presented merely as documents of administration, but they held so much more. We question the Draenei we capture because they are much like this document. They claim to be simple laborers, novice mages, or cooks. But they're nothing near innocent. They commandeered a vessel that was ours by right of conquest and murdered your comrades. Each of them, man and woman, played a role."

Draes turned the words over in his mind. She was right, in essence. Each Draenei either killed, or knew that the task of killing might fall to them when they wrested the ship from Sin'dorei control. He should have came to that conclusion himself, but he hadn't wanted to. They were nothing like the innocents, travelers, and merchants his group preyed upon when they were stationed outside Shattrath.

"I did not come here to be toyed with. I did not come here to listen to you dance around the real matter with your pretty words and philosophical notions. I came here to drop off a damned stack of files that nobody reads--"

"I read them," she interrupted.

"That nobody reads. It's already painfully clear that Caziel has contacted you about what happened in the forest and demanded that I be reassigned or beheaded, or whatever it is that Bloodknights view as justice these days. If I have to listen to any more talk about scrolls or people not being what they seem, I'll gladly lay my own head on the chopping block. So just tell me, as simply and directly as possible for such a woman like yourself, what my punishment shall be."

Tylane's eyes twinkled with amusement and she brought a milk-white hand to her mouth to suppress a smile. "Punishment? Beheadings? You can accuse me of spiraling away from the subject at hand, but it's certainly no worse than jumping to conclusions. Caziel had contacted me, yes. He expressed concern over the situation and asked me to look into it. Since it's become rather obvious, what with your lying, that there is something truly amiss, I have decided to restrict your duties."

"Am I grounded, mother?"

Another tsk. "You shouldn't call me that. The way you looked upon me a moment ago wasn't the type of look a son gives his mother."

Draes snorted and turned to leave. "Let me know when you're finished with your games."

She stood there a moment, silent, likely waiting for him to balk and come begging for lenience. He would not pander to her tonight. The journey had taken the last of his strength and all he wanted was a hot bath and a meal. His loins still stirred from earlier. I almost lost control, he thought. How much longer could he keep his addiction in check? It had wormed its way into him, feeding itself through rage, lust, and every emotion that made him feel like less of an elf. Give into it or resist it. He had come to that conclusion only a few nights ago, and he chose to be a monster. Perhaps if he had chosen his fate earlier, he would have had the courage to open the Draenei woman's throat with his dagger.

"Draes." She spoke his name plainly, without dressing it up with the sweet tones she often used with him.

He turned.

"It's just scribe work. It seemed like a good idea to give your assistant, Alexion, experience with leading interrogations. Monitor his progress and keep writing your reports, as you have before. Report to Cor'theryn when you are finished and he will assign you more tasks."

"I am not permitted to join the raiding parties anymore?" he asked.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Not for now, no. You must go. I know you don't wish to stay here any longer. I'll have the magister open a portal for you."

It was the nicest thing she had done since..ever. Before he could open his mouth to form a word or two of gratitude, she disappeared behind the bookcase, skirts swirling behind.

A/N: You know, I just noticed that I cannot count and I mistakenly labeled the Vyskania chapter as being chapter 3 when it's reall chapter 4. My mistake! I'll try to remember to fix it when it's not 5 AM. Anyway, WOW. This fic has laid dormant for so many months, but it has never left my mind. It's been bottled up in there and I've tried to write chapter 5 about seven times. If you're new to the fic, let me know what you think of it so far! If you've been here since the beginning, thank you for sticking with me.