Chapter 13: A Faint Cold Fear

Writer's Note: If you'd like to ask questions about my story, head over to my forum connected to my profile. Just keep in mind I have no obligation to give you an answer. Or not lie. Or tell the truth in the guise of a lie.

Hey, that's storytelling.

"But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travelers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more."

-Edgar Allen Poe

The whispers may have been the fading echo of dreams, or maybe not. But there was one definite noise that dwelled in reality, a noise that dragged Zackel Wintersoul out of a restless sleep. He had his staff in his hand a second before his mind fully clarified that he had reached for it, aiming it out among the dancing shadows within his 'living quarters'. Air rasped loudly through his nostrils as he moved the staff around, seeking movement to go with the sound.

None came. Not even another sound, save Zackel's own breath.

"What is it?" Rielle said. Zackel glanced over at the Draenei warrior, who had woken up, retrieved her axe, and gotten into a crouched ready position without Zackel having any indication she'd moved.

"Don't know. Heard something."

"Something?"

"Yes." Zackel said, getting to his feet and reaching for his slightly tattered but still mostly good robe.

"You sure it wasn't just a nightmare? You've been groaning in your sleep a lot these past few nights."

"No. Not just a nightmare."

"How sure are you?"

"Deathly sure." Zackel said, now clad in his robes.

"I'll get dressed." Rielle said, standing fully upright herself before heading for her leathers and armor.

"You do that. I'm going to go check something."

"If there's a problem, we shouldn't split up."

"Not going down into the lower floors. Going to check the stairways to the roof."

"The stairways? You mean the ones leading to the outside roof, where a storm that could freeze the feathers off any flying beast has been howling for nearly two weeks now? The storm YOU caused, I might remind you?" Rielle said, trying to lighten the tense mood.

"Duly reminded. And yes. Those stairways. Never assume anything in this world, no matter how obvious." Zackel said, as he headed out the right hand door of their sleeping quarters. There were two stairways leading to the roof, but the one that was closer to the downward stairs of the citadel actually had a door that worked: Zackel had sealed it shut. The other one was too badly damaged, and Zackel had been forced to seal the doorway that lead out of their quarters and to the staircase and roof instead of the roof-bound one. Said route was the one Zackel used to access the roof to check on his storm, and where he had had to do all the shoveling Rielle had made him do in the first several days.

"Should I put my back to the wall?" Rielle called after him, half serious and half needling.

"If you think that will help." Zackel replied, his words drifting, ghost-like, through the door. Rielle lightly chewed on her upper lip, and then sped up her dressing efforts. Maybe it WAS nothing, but Zackel's reaction had gone past the point where he should have chalked it up to some random noise of the fortress, or simple paranoia. When someone took on that tone, it was best to listen to them until evidence presented a reason to the contrary.

The silence in the fortress took on an oppressive quality when one became acutely aware of it, Rielle noticed as she dressed. She dumped some more logs on the fire to increase the light and background noise, but that didn't ease the nerves she herself had started to develop. She was just about ready to head up after Zackel when she heard him returning.

"Nothing." Zackel said, entering the room. "Door's still open, but no evidence of any presence besides ours. Footprints and the like."

"How could you tell? The way the wind is blowing the snow around out there, any trace should be wiped out in minutes, if that." Rielle said.

"To the naked eye, yes. To a frost mage? Not so much." Zackel said, as he closed the door to the stairway and locked it. "I can, with some effort, search for discrepancies in the calefaction matrixes…"

"You're cooking what for dinner?" Rielle said, snapping her face-plate on. Zackel gave the warrior a mild glare, and could have sworn she was sticking her tongue out behind her metal mask.

"I can search for the ghost of footprints, via very small traces of lingering heat. Didn't find any. Didn't find any traces of any kind, really." Zackel said. "If anything is in here, it didn't come in through the roof."

"So what, it came through the front door? Without either of us noticing?"

"Not just that. It would have to come through the front door, without either of us noticing, and not trigger any of my traps. Ever." Zackel said. "And this is not the first time I think I heard something, if you recall. So, what could pass through, and by anything, without leaving any sign?"

"…so…what? We're dealing with a ghost?"

"Perhaps. But that would raise another question." Zackel said, as he located one of their torches and held it in the fire. "What's a ghost doing out here? In HERE?"

Rielle's initial response was simple: she hoisted her axe.

"Let's go ask." Rielle said. "And if it doesn't turn out to be a ghost, let's firmly express our disappointment at their normalcy and their intrusion."

Strangely, what occupied Zackel's thoughts as they headed down the stairs was not whatever he had sensed, but how odd it was to see Rielle back in her full armor again. It wasn't a question of whether she'd be better off partially armored: Zackel knew her well enough to know that the alien being dressed in all of the heavy metal wouldn't slow her down at all. It was whether that truth would prove to be a factor that briefly occupied the mage's thoughts. It was good armor, yes…but Zackel had seen more than one cocky idiot cut down to size (one time, literally) because they thought their armor could deal with anything an enemy could throw at them. Then again, Rielle had clearly demonstrated that she did not think that way. At least, according to her stories. And when she was filled with seething murderous rage that needed something to be released onto.

She would hopefully be even better calm and alert. Right?

Considering the nature of the threat (that is, he was completely unaware of anything about it, or if it even existed), Zackel could only hope that was the case.

"Well now Zack…" Rielle said, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "If I was an uninvited guest who wanted to stay out of sight, where might I go?"

"Well, ideally I'd want to stay in a room my co-tenants didn't even know about, but considering we've explored this place pretty well and we can't exactly go wandering around bashing down every wall to possibly find a secret room…" Zackel said, before he trailed off at Rielle's glare. "Basement."

"Just for that, you're going down alone."

"Is that wise? I'm squishy."

"Yes, and I'll use that to send you down the stairs with my foot imprinted on your ass if you don't haul it." Rielle said. Zackel muttered to himself and turned to the closed and locked basement door, said basement being the only room that Zackel and Rielle avoided because of the fact they'd turned it into a makeshift graveyard.

"You know, if I die, it's going to be very boring for you all alone here."

"Nah, I'll just babble nonsense sometimes and maybe occasionally give myself a hard poke to replace what I'd lose. Yeah, a hard poke should suffice for your efforts during our sparring sessions."

"Ha ha." Zackel said, having removed the plank from the basement door and undone the lock. The smell of rotting ogre corpse wafted up to strike him like a slap as he opened it.

"Bllerrrrrggghhhh." Zackel said, popping his nose plugs in before retrieving his staff and torch. He slowly began making his way down the stairs.

"Be careful Zackel." Rielle said behind him.

"I always am, Rielle." Zackel said, casting his light down to see if there was any way he was getting past the corpses at the bottom of the basement stairs without stepping in something unpleasant.

Luck was with him: the rotting ogre corpse had bounced off the wall and moved mostly away from the stairs, hence allowing Zackel to get over the body in one large step. He quickly glanced around the basement room, assessing if he was alone, and then turned his fire back to the closest ogre's body. He did not examine it long: the festering mess the cadaver was well on its way to turning into quickly drove from Zackel's mind the possibility that this corpse would be rising and causing them any trouble.

Just to be on the safe side, Zackel drove a spear of ice through its head. He wouldn't put the dark re-animating magics that had been unleashed on Azeroth past anything. For the rest, Rielle or his efforts had already pulverized the brain.

"Anything?" Rielle called down.

"Looking." Zackel replied, casting the light of his fire back across the basement room. Besides the ogre corpses, there was little else in the room. A few rotten boxes, heaps of garbage, a mostly ruined chair, a mold-covered painting, and a fair among of cobwebs made up the décor of the room, and offered virtually no hiding places.

"…all right then." Zackel said, withdrawing a vial. He'd mixed it up in the first days in the fortress, when he hadn't been as sure that he and Rielle wouldn't be getting unexpected company. Now that that possibility had returned, so had the concoction. "Are you hiding?"

Zackel tossed the vial into the room, taking a deep breath and holding it as he did so. The glass container broke open on the slimy stone, a noxious purple miasma erupting from the chemical's reaction to air. It wasn't toxic, but the gas was so irritating on the lungs that any hiding creature under any kind of vision-glamour would have been unable to keep from breaking into racking, stealth-destroying coughs. Zackel had to force his eyes open as the gas washed over him, the tincture making them water violently.

But, in the end, nothing was revealed. The gas quickly went inert, and Zackel let out the air in his lungs and wiped at his eyes.

"Guess not." Zackel said. He still cast the torch over the empty basement room a few more times, before finally turning and gingerly stepping over the ogre body to make his way up the stairs.

"So, anything?" Rielle repeated as Zackel emerged from the basement.

"Just a re-iteration." Zackel said. "Really, what the FEL would a ghost be doing out here?"

"Okay, I'm waiting." Rielle said a few minutes later, as the pair crept through the dark passageways of their home slash prison, the basement again locked up.

"Pardon?"

"You asked why a ghost would be out here, in here, more than once. Well, I don't have an answer, and we don't seem to have an intruder in any traditional sense, so you better produce one." Rielle said.

"The intruder or the answer?"

"I'll accept either. But since you're the one with the giant brain and the weak everything else, you should stick with your strengths."

"Weak? I'm actually making you try in those sparring matches!"

"No you're not."

"Oh bull."

"Not the topic either." Rielle said. "You heard something, yet we can't find anything. We need a reason beyond 'You're a paranoid twit'. So, let's consider possibilities. What happened here?"

"I got stuck with a draenei with a tongue so sharp she probably never kissed a man for fear of accidentally giving them a lobotomy."

The way Rielle lifted her axe, placed the end against Zackel's neck, and pushed him against the wall was done with the utmost of care…and yet still managed to get Rielle's point across loud and clear.

"Try again. Squishy." Rielle said.

"Kingdom of Alterac." Zackel said rapidly, as Rielle removed her axe. Zackel felt at his throat: not even a drop of blood. Then again, he hadn't expected much less. "Of the seven kingdoms that formed the Alliance during the Second War, Alterac was the weakest. Its master, Aiden Perenolde, became afraid of what would happen if the orc hordes would win, so he betrayed the Alliance and collaborated with them in exchange for safety. This proved to be a poor choice, and his actions were uncovered and the kingdom was crushed for its treachery. Plans to grant it to others didn't work out, and it fell into ruin, the Crushridge Clan moved in, and most of what remained of Alterac ended up as the Syndicate, a band of thugs lead by Aiden and his kin trying to get their land back. Just one of the several thousand tragic messes of our past several decades."

"Tragic enough to cause something and/like prompt a haunting?"

"Possibly…" Zackel said, slowly moving the torch around the hallway. "But from what I recall, most displaced spirits and hostile ghosts and all the creatures in that vein have some link in fel magic. That's why there's so many ghosts wandering the Plaguelands and Darkshire. As far as I know, nothing in that vein ever happened here…but then again…" Zackel said, trailing off.

"…yeah?"

"There's an expression among mages. A good bell is heard far, a bad bell still further." Zackel said. "It technically applies to magic improvisation going wrong…but it could also be said to apply to the reach of magic, and how much further it can go than expected. A lot of the Kingdoms were touched by darkness when the Scourge came. I suppose…some of it could have drifted down here. Manifested or stirred something up."

"Okay. Why now?" Rielle said. "Why not bother the ogres?"

"Too simple-minded, perhaps?" Zackel said. "A lot of ogres won't notice they're on fire until they smell the smoke. Maybe it had nothing to work with until…until…"

"Work with? What, is it playing with us? Why would it bother doing THAT?"

"An average stranded spirit wouldn't. It would have attacked us immediately. They're pretty much just residual traces of immensely strong emotion, all of it bad. But…" Zackel murmured. "There's always exceptions. Which is, in a way, worse. If a spirit is capable of hiding away, biding its time, and initiating whatever it wants with as subtle a hand as this could theoretically be…well, I really hope that's not the case. Because something like that is so powerful it held onto its mind after its physical body died, and so refined in its desire for whatever it wants, and it never wants anything good, that it's taken this long and started this quietly…"

"I get it. You're screwed."

"Well I could just…wait what?"

"You're screwed. I'll just hit it when it comes until it goes away."

"…you know, I really wonder why we didn't put you in charge of our offensive efforts against Northrend. I'm sure your 'Strike a problem until it ceases being one' strategy would have produced outstanding results and the troops would have all been home by now."

"And you're soon to be even more screwed, because when it comes for you, you won't be able to walk." Rielle said.

"Make sure you hit me in the head too, I think I'd prefer a coma to your gloating."

"Seriously though Zack. Theorizing the worst is all fine and good…but all we have are some odd noises."

"And nightmares."

"Okay fine, nightmares. Hardly breaks down to an evil spirit, even based on your possibilities, and I'm not so stupid to dismiss them entirely…but I'm not so naïve to just accept your theories because they sound good either. I've had my own experiences, with the Scourge, fel magic, AND spirit creatures, and I just don't see a ghost coming out of nowhere playing with us like this."

"…There's another expression I know. Hunters say it." Zackel said. "What is play for the cat is death for the mouse."

"…….yeah, I get what they're saying." Rielle said, turning the axe over in her hands.

"But that's my secondary thought." Zackel said, turning around and heading down the hallway.

"What?"

"Your words jogged something in my head. We're asking why, if anything is in here with us, it showed up now, instead of bothering the ogres. I might have an answer."

"Which is?"

"I might have let it out."

"Oh yeah, this place. Where you used my axe as a damn crowbar." Rielle said, back in the same storage room that she'd fallen on Zackel in several days before. "Don't think you're doing that again. You want that door you found opened again, you can pry it with your fingernails."

"Did I mention before how I found this door?" Zackel said, ignoring Rielle's comment.

"You said you didn't notice it before."

"Yes. That was because it was behind an old bookcase. If I hadn't looked at precisely the right angle, we might have had considerable trouble with some of our washing tasks, considering I found our washing tub in there."

"Just because a bookcase was in front of it doesn't mean anything. Ogres could have done it. Moved the case there for another reason, given the impression they were trying to hide the door."

"Maybe." Zackel said, as he began fiddling with the entryway again. "But…something else occurs to me."

"And that is?"

"That tub is made of wood. A lot of the wood in here has seen better days, even with some of the ogres trying to keep them intact, and that's a whole 'nother can of worms considering we're talking about ogres. Yet that tub was…more well preserved than I like. Almost like it was sealed up in a vacuum."

"…and you broke it."

"…let's hope I'm wrong." Zackel said, and with a slight tug, the door opened.

Zackel was pretty sure the whisper was just in his head. He leaned in, casting the torch and its light into the concealed chamber.

"…then again, I might have been so pleased to find the tub I failed to assess other things." Zackel said, relaxing a bit. The semi-hidden room was just as wrecked as the remaining of the fortress had been. Maybe no one had opened the door in a while, but it was clear the ogres had been in here. Which likely meant Zackel hadn't broken open anything, and he was putting together a few coincidences in the wrong way…

"Really. Did you see that writing?"

"…what?" Zackel said, casting the torchlight in the direction Rielle was pointing at. His relief was quickly swallowed by the cold prickling sensation that ran up his spine. There WAS writing on the wall. Writing he hadn't seen when he'd explored the room the first time and found the tub.

Worse, he recognized it. It wasn't just any casual graffiti.

"Wait, I think I can make some of this out…for a good…time…contact…" Rielle said, before Zackel held up a hand. "Shit, you can read it. Why am I not surprised?"

"It's Thalassian. The old elven language, and what a lot of magic is written in." Zackel said, crossing over. "…not very clear though. This is either very old, or someone tried to…scour it off the stone. Or both."

"Which is worse?"

"…scouring." Zackel said. He did not add that said action could easily be linked to the trashed room, which had initially calmed Zackel down with the concept that he hadn't broken any long-forgotten seal. Other possibilities were coming to mind now, worse ones. Like the idea that something had been in here and let out before, and had commanded someone to erase any warning or advice on containing or stopping it, and had been doing who knows what when a mage had wandered along and locked himself in a castle with it…

"Well, what does it say? The wall?" Rielle said, startling Zackel out of his neurotic musing. "Come on, I don't have all night."

"Trying to read…" Zackel said, as he began doing so. "…Forever in our hands…burden of choice…something star echoes something something voice…might be voices…in that…and the rest is too messed up to translate, I'm afraid."

"Right. Figures…" Rielle said, looking around the wrecked room. There was nothing in it that connected decidedly with the few words Zackel had managed to translate: what that meant, who could say. "So, what…did we haul up the stairs and take a bath in the Washtub of Ill Omens, or something?"

"The ogres might have shoved that in here, the tub that is…maybe at the same time they let out whatever was in here. Or took whatever was in here. Or…ticked off whatever was in here…" Zackel said.

"Zack! Zackel. Look at me." Rielle said, pointing to herself. "Now listen. OR, whatever was in here was taken when the Alliance came down on Alterac and wrecked it. Taken by the Alliance, or Perpugilliam or whatever his name was. Which means there is no reason that any bad mojo should be waking up NOW just to bother US, which would end up making this just a bunch of eerie coincidences. Don't forget that possibility, Zackel. Might help with all the scary ones you're currently coming up with." Rielle said.

"…right." Zackel said, trying to moisten his dry mouth. "This doesn't mean anything. This could be an old blessing, or…commendation or something. It's too worn down to tell. And the rest of things…well, it is an old castle. And it's surrounded by a storm. And there is such a thing as cabin fever."

"Good man."

"I am still guessing you won't object to another sweep."

"Better man. I've seen a lot, Zackel. Never said I've seen it all." Rielle said. "Lead the way."

"You know, if I get mauled, my blood is going to spray all over you."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Rielle said. However, she then proceeded to take the lead.

"So, you've checked all the traps you laid down, right? For freshness?" Rielle said some time later. The pair were back in their sleeping quarters, both doors closed and locked and the fire built back up to a roaring inferno.

"Yes. Shored them up if needed. Even laid a few new ones down. Just in case." Zackel said. "As neither of us has an overt connection to the Light and hence can't perform an exorcism, there's nothing much else we can do."

"Unless something happens."

"Unless yes, that." Zackel said, drinking from his canteen.

"…don't worry so much Zackel. There's still a lot of things it could be that wouldn't be any danger to us."

"And if it is?"

"We'll handle it." Rielle said, patting Zackel's wrist. "The Light is in all things, not just its devoted servants. It will come if needed."

"I suppose the chosen species of the naaru would know best." Zackel said. "Still…I'm not exactly in the mood to go back to sleep."

"Ohhhhh! Let's roast sugar-fluff and tell ghost stories!" Rielle said. The sour look Zackel gave her took some of the edge off her amusement, but not wholly. "Seriously Zack, you need something to distract you."

"Telling ghost stories is not going to be it." Zackel said. "I'm nervous, and you…are you."

"Pardon?"

"I suspect there are hardly any scary, disturbing, or anything that initiates a chance in one's normal emotional state stories, ghost or otherwise, that could rattle you."

"Ah. Smart boy." Rielle said, poking Zackel in the forehead. "You're right on the mark."

"…key word being, hardly." Zackel said calmly.

"What? Oh ho. You think you have something up your sleeve? Please Zackel, stick to poetry. I've fought things that would turn you white and your pants brown. There is no spooky story under the sun, moon, or otherwise that can get to me." Rielle said, leaning forward and cupping her face. "But you clearly want to try. Please do. Your failures are so amusing in their consistency and scope."

"…heh." Zackel said, drinking from his canteen. "Inhale, Rielle. Take in as much air as you can. This story should last about as long as you can hold your breath, and then just a little bit longer."

"You serious?"

"No, it's just to…set the atmosphere." Zackel said. "You ever heard the gnomish term Windilim Potlowter? It means, roughly translated, 'The Madness of Experimentation'. Now, the term's meaning seems obvious on its face. Gnomes are renowned for their curiosity, inventiveness, and all the positive and negative things that have come from that. The term is usually used comically, in those stories where something blows up in the gnome's face and causes them to grow a tail…but not always. Not always. To gnomes, it applies to the way that, for some people, and not just gnomes, you never truly understand the consequences of any act, of any stripe…until you finally do. Any act. And there's many forms of experimentation, Rielle. This…is one I heard one night, late in Ironforge, over why the gnome's attempts to build a heated pool seemed to have stopped. Experimentation, you see…"

"…that is, you might say, their invisible carrot." Zackel finished several minutes later. "Now…you can take a good, deep breath. Our erstwhile experimenter, well…he still has not."

"……………………………what the FEL is wrong with you?!" Rielle said, erupting out of what had appeared to be a stunned state to smack Zackel across the head. "Where the fel do you hear these stories?"

"Like I said…"

"You mages are sick! You take your big brains and you make sick things! Get lost! No sick people in my bed!" Rielle snapped, as she began kicking at Zackel with her hooved foot. Said motions finally clued Zackel in that she was comically exaggerating her shock. Still, he was pretty sure he'd managed to touch SOMETHING in her. For someone who had seen as much as Rielle, it really spoke to the potency of the tale he'd told. When the gnome he'd heard it from had told it that night, Zackel was pretty sure he'd disgusted the entire bar, and a few dwarfs had later bought him a round of drinks for actually telling a story that had provoked a reaction, even if it was one of horrified disgust.

"Okay, okay…going." Zackel said, crawling over to his bed. "Sweet dreams."

"You're not too far away that I can't hit you with a log, Zackel."

"All the logs are over here."

"I meant from the fire."

"I'll shut up now." Zackel said, trying to settle down. Despite his efforts, it took him some effort to drift off to sleep…

Sleep he was pulled out of by a hand on his shoulder.

"GUH!" Zackel said, starting up at the touch.

"Zackel, Zackel, relax. It's me." Rielle said. The fire illuminated the draenei's nearly naked form, Rielle having stripped back down to her underwear to sleep herself. Zackel blinked repeatedly, trying to fully return to sense.

"What happened?"

"You were having a nightmare. Decided to wake you out of it."

"I…was?" Zackel said, trying to remember if he had been dreaming.

"Yeah. Pretty bad. Thought I better bring you out of it." Rielle said. "I'm not having a much easier time sleeping myself."

"…wonderful. Maybe I should have kept that story to myself." Zackel muttered. "Well, got any ideas how to pass the time?"

"…well…a few…" Rielle said. It was around then that Zackel realized how close she was.

"…Rielle?" Zackel said, as the draenei lightly put her hand on Zackel's bare chest. When had he taken his shirt off…

"I'm not an idiot, Zackel. I've seen how you look at me. I can tell what you think." Rielle breathed. "I figure…enough testing to see if you're an asshole. You're not. You're…special. And quite frankly…you're the only one here." Rielle said, as she gently pushed Zackel down.

"Uh…well uh…"

"It's all right…" Rielle said, leaning down. Zackel, his eyes wide as saucers, finally remembered to blink.

And in doing so, Rielle's purple features shifted to blazing red.

"LITTLE WORM."

Zackel tried to scream, but the barbed teeth seemed to eat the cry even as they sank into his face.

"GYAAAAAHHHHHH!" Zackel semi-shrieked, rearing up out of his furs so hard he nearly passed out from the intense sense of vertigo.

"WHOA! Yikes! Down, Zackel! Down!" Rielle said, having woken the mage up again. It was that unexpected mirror on the alien's part that caused Zackel to recoil away from the draenei's voice, his wide panicked eyes darting all over (considerably more clothed) body.

"You, what, YOU!" Zackel stammered.

"Zackel calm down. You were having a nightmare."

"YOU JUST SAID THAT!"

"What?!"

"PROVE THIS ISN'T A DREAM!"

The sound of the slap Rielle delivered to Zackel's head echoed across the room.

"…..OWWWWWWWWWWW…that was a little more proof than I required!" Zackel said, clutching his head as reality fully settled onto his senses.

"I aim to please." Rielle said, crossing her arms. "Seriously, you were really moaning and groaning this time. So bad you managed to start keeping me awake. If you're going to have nightmares, keep them to yourself."

"Ugh…was it that bad?" Zackel said, looking for his canteen.

"Pretty much." Rielle said. "…you all right, Zackel? What were you dreaming about?"

Laughing…

Hot blood on his face.

"BEG."

"…nothing. Can't remember." Zackel said, peering down the spout of his drinking container like it would take away the pain and fear that flowed briefly through him.

"…want some company?"

"…what?" Zackel said, looking up, the sick sensation flowing through him dampening slightly due to the surprise.

"You can pull your blankets closer to mine. Bask in my protection." Rielle said. The way she said the second sentence managed to fully suppress Zackel's bad feelings, making him narrow his eyes instead.

"…bull. You just want me close so you can lean over and smack me if I bother you instead of having to crawl over."

"This offer has a short shelf life." Rielle replied, as if Zackel hadn't guessed her true intentions.

"Never said I wouldn't take it." Zackel grumbled, as he began gathering up his tangled furs. "I just ask that you don't throw me across the room."

"Oh please. Too much effort."

It was notable that when Zackel went back to sleep, Rielle now only a few feet away from him rather than across the room, he did not awaken until the next morning. Either he'd slept peacefully, or Rielle had stayed her hand.

Of course, upon the next morning, the draenei had immediately initiated a sparring session based on their bedding already being drawn together. The next two hours were filled with the usual beating and mockery, Rielle having a grand old time and Zackel acquiring several new bruises.

Still, it was comforting in its familiar-ness. Cold comfort, but he would take what he could get.

That may have been a mistake. Because the whole series of events, from Rielle's offer to tell ghost stories to finding a new excuse to beat him up, caused the tiny, nagging bit of information that had been drifting around the back of his head during it all to eventually sink into the depths of his mind, unrecalled.

The one crucial detail he'd overlooked in all of his efforts to determine what had bothered him the previous night.

There were ogre corpses in the basement. Zackel had seen them.

Three of them.

In cleaning out the castle, Zackel and Rielle had indeed killed three ogres.

The problem was…

That wasn't where it had ended.

They had killed five.