Chapter 4

Ropart and Necri were largely ignored as they descended around the rim of the great central chamber of Undercity. In contrast to the broken 'memories' for sale in the courtyard above, here endless crafted goods of much more reasonable quality were found.

The living also made their presence known. There were a number of Elves bargaining with the merchants, as well as short, green-skinned folk that Ropart identified as Goblins. The Elves displayed their typical calm aloofness, but the Goblins seemed energetic about -everything- they did; dashing about and arguing passionately as if the fate of the world depended on their decisions.

Necri also noticed that almost all the inhabitants grew quiet and wary whenever one of the guards strolled near. The guards seemed to enjoy this fear. Like bullies of any era, they cultured it and expected it, and became instantly suspicious of those who failed to provide the proper reaction.

Ropart continued navigating them through the maze of walkways, working his way down and around to the far side. Finally they left the chamber behind, walking through quieter corridors and crossing bridges that arched over sickly green water. Necri saw several torchlit alcoves in which small groups clustered classroom-like around central figures; whether teaching or preaching, she was not sure.

When the Orcish guards were replaced by undead wearing heavy armour, Necri knew they were getting close. Ropart was obviously her key to the Queen; the guards respectfully stepped aside as soon as they saw him. She also caught a few curious looks directed her way, but this didn't surprise her. If the only people he brought this way were the 'unusual' undead, she would expect such reactions. She said nothing and kept her eyes focused in front of her.

The royal chamber surprised her. A dome-shaped room, approximately sixty yards across, with a raised dais of half that diameter in the middle. Several people - primarily Elves and undead - stood clustered around in urgent conversation. There was no throne, not even a chair, but the commanding presence that stood at the room's centre left no doubt as to the identity of the Banshee Queen.

She wore no crown or gilded robes. Instead, a ranger's black leathers and travelling cloak graced her lithe frame. She was obviously dead like her subjects, yet complete and flawless of flesh and skin. Her eyes burned crimson as they turned to take in the newly-arrived pair. The gaze was uncomfortable but not angry; there was power there, but no direct intent.

"Who have you brought us, Caretaker?" The Queen's voice was clear and vibrant, cutting off the other murmured conversations.

Ropart bowed as best as he could with his canes. "My Queen, this is Necri. She awoke from one of the ancient mausoleums in Venomweb Vale. I brought her straight to you, as you instructed."

Again taking her cue from Ropart, Necri bowed low, ensuring the cloak stayed demurely closed. When she straightened, the Queen was standing not ten feet away. "Those mausoleums have been sealed for over a thousand years. Tell me of yourself, Necri."

Necri knew her whisper-quiet voice would not normally suffice for such a chamber, but in the utter silence that followed the Queen's question, her answer was audible to all. "The age of those Mausoleums does not surprise me, your Majesty. I appear to be missing substantial and important sections of my memory, but my last clear recollection is of the founding of the city of Dalaran."

A collective gasp went around the room like wildfire. The Queen waited calmly for the shock to die down around her. "And why have you awoken -now-?"

Necri inclined her head. "I would very much like to know the answer to that question as well. My last death was carefully and deliberately executed. It is quite possible that I was intended never to return at all."

"Do you know who, or why?"

"Not yet. There were certain trappings to my burial that show I was laid to rest deliberately, but I remember nothing of the circumstances."

"You will be investigating this." It wasn't a question, or a request.

"Beyond any doubt," Necri gave a half-bow, acknowledging the order for what it was.

"Who were you, before your death?"

Necri had expected that question. "I was a sorcerer and enchanter of Arathor, and still consider myself such."

Her earlier revelation about the founding of Dalaran took the edge off the murmur that echoed through the chamber, but the Queen still waited for it to subside before continuing. "Arathor is long gone, and what remains of it will no longer accept you."

"I am aware, your Majesty. Ropart explained much of what has happened to the humans of this area, since my death. I keenly feel the loss of Strom, my home, but I must move onward."

"Then I invite you to become a citizen of Undercity. You would swear allegiance to me, and by extension, the Horde and its Warchief. We all share the duties of protection and advancement of our race, and the Horde as a whole."

Necri took a moment to plan her response. It would be easiest, of course, to simply agree to these terms - but she rarely did anything just because it was -easy-.

"I beg you to forgive the impertinence, your Majesty, but may I ask a question before I do so?"

The hushed gasps around the room and the Queen's ever-so-slightly arched brow spoke volumes about the unexpected response.

"You may." Was that a slight smile on her face?

"The old alliances that I knew in life are dead. Strom has been destroyed, the living humans and many of the Elves are our mortal foes. Kingdoms, empires and revolutions have come and gone. I understand that, whether or not I ally myself with you, the dead have few friends in this world. My question is this: By accepting your generous offer, who else becomes my enemy?"

"A valid question, and one that you are within your rights to ask. You are correct that the dead have few allies. Our living brethren - human and Elven - despise and fear us. This is why we have cast our lot with the Horde. So I would answer your question with a question: Do you have more to gain by having the entire Horde at your side, or more to lose from being alone?"

Necri's question deftly avoided, yet the answer perfectly accurate. "I accept your offer."

The Queen raised her voice, though she had no need to do so. "I call upon all present to witness these events." Deftly and silently, she drew a thin Elven sword from her belt. "Kneel." Necri did, and felt the blade come to gentle rest on her shoulder. "Repeat after me."

"I, Necri of Arathor, declare my allegiance to the Forsaken, and accept you, Queen Sylvanas Windrunner, as my liege, and to your lawful successors likewise. I will serve and fight when called, and will hold no secrets from you or deceptions against you. Together, we are stronger than either of us alone."

Necri's whispered repetition of the words filled the silence of the chamber.

"And in return, I and the Forsaken will stand with you against our enemies. Arise, Necri of the Forsaken." The blade was lifted, briefly touched her other shoulder, then withdrawn.

Necri rose to general applause.

Once calm had returned, the Queen turned her head fractionally to the side. "Ambassador Sunsorrow, can you determine the strength of her magical ability?"

One of the Elves stepped forward, his long red hair almost matching the brightness of his robe. His eyes glowed green with arcane energies, though unlike Necri, he still had orbs in the sockets. Necri turned to him and smiled. "If you plan to open yourself to my aura, you may wish to take caution and prepare yourself."

Sunsorrow just gave her an enigmatic look and a dismissive wave of his hand. She watched calmly as he cast a simple spell that would open his magical sight.

She completely expected his sudden look of abject disgust. She knew what he had seen.

Demons in the physical world had discrete bodies. They could be attacked with swords and spells, and driven back to the Twisting Nether when those bodies were disrupted. Their magical essences, and the shadows they left on the auras of those who summoned them, were horrible and alien to behold. Necri herself was long since inured to the effect; it had been her choice to bind herself to the demonic forces in the first place.

Since then, she had learned techniques that ensured that -she- was in control of -them-. At the same time, she knew full well that the creatures were vastly intelligent and entirely malevolent. They would free themselves and cause endless chaos if she ever gave them the slightest opening to do so.

Sunsorrow found his voice, and it dripped with disdain. "She's no sorcerer, she's a warlock! And a strong one, at that."

The word was new to her, but she could grasp the context of it. The most disturbing thing he had just seen was the demonic stain on her aura. The fact that there was a -word- for that now implied that others had figured out how to bind such beings; that it was a known magical practice.

Perhaps not a particularly -accepted- one, however.

The Queen gave her a thoughtful look. "Demonic magics are not unknown, Necri, either in this city or in the Horde as a whole. In fact, it was the Orcs themselves who brought the study to our world. Yet your skills would seem to predate their arrival. This intrigues me. I would have you speak with Carendin Halgar in our Arcane Quarter, such that we can be assured that you have these beings under control."

"Of course, your Majesty."

"Then it is done. Caretaker, please escort Necri to Carendin, and explain to him what needs to be done."

While Necri had no desire at all to be subjected to any form of analysis, she was very curious to meet more of the new world's magic users, especially those, like herself, who used demonic energies. With a final bow to the Queen, Ropart led her from the royal chamber.