Chapter 15: Haunted
In the Plaguelands, Zackel had truly thought he'd seen the very antithesis of life.
Nothing natural remained in what had once been the proud Lordaeron kingdom. Streams ran with poison and foulness that had been purified multiple times to ensure safety if drunk (and most people didn't bother taking the risk). The ground either seethed with fel energies or dark toxins that produced frail, ghost-like versions of the plants and trees that had once grown there,. And whatever stalked, crawled, or shambled through its cursed regions was either dead, or something that should no longer be alive. Or should have never been given life. Or given life anew.
It was not the first time Zackel had been in a place that could be considered damned (he had traveled through Duskwood's black thickets a time or three, after all), but the Plaguelands had been the first time Zackel had felt he was looking at something that would never be right again. A place forever haunted by the choices, and mistakes, of its history.
As Zackel crept through the dark fortress that had become his home and prison, though, he realized that he'd been wrong. The antithesis of life could not only be said to be in a place as damaged as the Plaguelands. It could just as easily be said to be in this cast-off stone building, isolated and cut off by arcane magics (HIS arcane magics, but Zackel tried not to think about that fact) because the evidence of its previous normality was so much clearer than the Plaguelands.
And its rapidly disappearing absence was, in turn, felt so much keener.
Of course, there was that old expression about solutions, with the simplest answer usually being the correct one. Nearly all of the slipping normality of this cold citadel could be falling away solely due to Zackel's own mind, that was the simplest answer here. There was truth in that, and the phrase behind it…but Zackel found said truth to be rather fleeting when it was needed. And when concepts failed, feelings were often what remained to settle the issue.
There was another saying Zackel had heard once or twice, on the nature of bravery.
Courage is the compliment of fear. A fearless man cannot be courageous. He is also a fool.
While a nice sentiment as well, its flaws became starkly apparent under pressure. For one thing, there were many kinds of fools, and Zackel was sure a fair bit of them had plenty of courage (hell, one type of courage was NAMED after fools). Another was just what fear did to the mind, and how it could render situations so that courage meant nothing, or came too late. Then there was the case of what courage and fear meant in the difference between a sudden situation, and one where you had the chance to think things through. Or more precisely in Zackel's case, overthink things.
"King fool you then…"
Zackel felt his mouth dry up as the voice slithered across his mind.
"…all right then." Zackel said to the empty hallway. Unlike last time, he was not carrying a torch: his sole light was the blue energy that glowed on the gem of his staff. "Let's consider possibilities here. Number one. Talking to me is all you can do."
That did not get him an answer, and Zackel did not expect one.
"I mean, if you could really DO something…why not attack us in our beds? Maybe I just need to realize that your tricks are few, and I've seen them all." Zackel said. "So…why would you not do that…"
Zackel held out a hand, placing it calmly on the cold stone wall. Without speaking, the only sound in the fortress was the faint howl of the storm outside, which rose and fell at various intervals.
"Do you feed on fear?" Zackel asked. "You will find us a poor meal then. Rielle only has the faintest traces of it left in her, and I'm quite sure it will never grow back. As for me…I'm a man of information. If I don't have enough, then I do grow afraid…but only long enough for me to seek more out. And if I don't find it then, then I draw a conclusion and let it stand. I've learned not to be indecisive…"
"Liarrrrrrrrrrrrr…"
"…right. If you're really not just something in my head, then prove it." Zackel said, swinging around. "Give me a sign that you're not just some unexpected consequence of my alchemy. Or that I'm not just losing my mind."
Again, silence was the sole response. Zackel slowly spun around again a few more times, before grimacing and rubbing his eyes.
"Because if I'm losing my mind…then the only one I have to worry about…"
The whisper was too faint for Zackel to make out words. He jerked up, yanking his staff out in front of him as the temperature around him dropped from his on-tenterhooks mystical power. Chewing on his lower lip to keep himself from bugging out, he turned around again.
"Fine. Let's say you're real. What are you trying to tell me? Hmmm? Random words, accusations? Again, that could just be me! Fel, how would YOU know what keeps me up at night? If you really knew what scared me, then why not try scaring Rielle? Why me? What's so great about me, huh? ANSWER ME!" Zackel hissed. His only response was the air being snorted furiously through his nostrils.
Get a grip Zackel. You came down here to find some peace, not work yourself up even worse. Calm.
"Ghosts are not pure clones of what they were when they were alive." Zackel said, though he wasn't sure if he was thinking out loud or issuing a challenge. "Whatever made the person degenerates in the process, which is understandable considering that they DIED. Even if that person was a master of self-control in life, it is highly, HIGHLY unlikely that they could maintain that aspect of themselves. Ghosts are often driven to try and reclaim what they had when they were alive, which is why the spirits of people who were good and blessed by the light are often little different from truly malevolent ones. In close proximity to the living, they are driven to try and connect with them, a touch which is harmful to the living because they are being touched by an unnatural entity caught between their world and the next. Based on THAT, there is no possibility you would NOT attack the ogres, or, if you required humans, why you would NOT have attacked us by now. You simply would not be able to control yourself, and fel, I'm pretty sure I'm repeating MYSELF…"
"…what do YOU know?"
Zackel felt the familiar sick coldness creep through his veins.
"So little…so little…more…no…more…."
Zackel felt like someone had taken his stomach in their hands and begun twisting it into a knot. His teeth creaked inside his mouth, even as he lowered his staff and leaned his weight on it.
"…you…are still not…offering…the proof I desire…" Zackel said. "Are you…really…truly…there?"
Once again, no answer. Somehow, that was worse.
Zackel closed his eyes, feeling the shudder run up through his body and center on his head, the faint hot trace of a tear starting to run down his cheek.
The heat of the fire all around them seemed to pale in significance from the heat of the blood all over his face. The screams continued in the flaming background of Stormwind, even as the terrible absence of screams of the one closest to Zackel raked nails across his soul, that pain fighting against the heart-crushing terror of the situation, the cruel fury in her eyes, the shine of pure malignant glee reflecting off the fangs in her mouth…
"…I will not…repeat the past." Zackel whispered. "I will not isolate myself…and believe that there is no solution to my problems…outside of constant self-indulgence. I will not be found wanting again…when the time comes when I am needed. You made a decent effort, if you're even there, getting me to forget that, getting me down here, wandering around in the dark. But I'm not doing any more of your work for you. Either show your hand, or accept the fact you have no hand…except my own pained one." Zackel said, removing his right hand from his staff and trying to relax its tense, aching fingers. "And if it is just me…either present a solution, or up-end the table. You know very well, Zackel, that you hate half-assing anything."
The silence settled back onto Zackel, this time seemingly a touch less oppressive. Zackel took in another long, slow breath, trying to get the tension to flow out of his tense muscles.
"Accept nothing. Accept any thing. Decide on something, Wintersoul." Zackel said. "All right, first thing. Enough on the contemplation of my own navel. Seco-"
The skittering sound was about the worst thing that could have crossed Zackel's ears, and was akin to driving a dagger into his re-emerging hopes. Whispers and voices could be attributed to Zackel's own troubled mind, what his draenei companion reminded him of, and how long he had been forced to stay in one spot and think instead of constantly moving from place to place…
Running away…
Like any good adventurer did. Likewise, what had startled him from sleep some nights ago could also have just been his own mind, mixed with the noises all old buildings under constant storm bombardment made.
The brief, low scratching noise had none of that comforting vagueness. It was wholly an outside noise, made by an outside source.
One way or another, Zackel was not alone.
"…okay then." Zackel said, turning towards the sound. "Decided on something. Time to do something."
That was the last sound Zackel himself made, as he began to walk as quietly and swiftly as he could towards the noise, pausing only to reach up and remove one of the unlit torches placed around the fortress. He lifted it to his mouth and, with a quick, silent breath and a spark of magic, ignited the end of the wood and held it out before him. The additional light revealed nothing new: that did not slow Zackel as he carefully crept around the corner. There was nothing in the hallway there, either.
Zackel scanned ahead, and then whirled around and shoved the torch into the room behind him. Shadows danced across the broken and rotting debris within, but said shadows produced the only movement. Zackel slowly crept in, staff in one hand and torch in the other.
With one swift jerk, he whirled and rammed the torch up towards the ceiling, aiming his staff up at the same time. All he saw was stone, nothing hovering above him waiting to pounce.
Instead, Zackel swore he felt something brush against his legs.
The mage yanked the torch down so fast he nearly set his own robes on fire, but once again nothing appeared, to gnaw off his ankle or offer him some tea. Zackel whirled around the room, each jerking shadow causing him to start before nothing substantial appeared to reinforce it. Snorting air through his nose still, he turned and stalked back out into the hallway, eyes darting back and forth.
He aimed his staff down one hallway, and the glow at the end of the weapon grew brighter. At the same time, Zackel hurled the torch down the other hallway, giving it a magic push to make it go further. It hit the floor just a touch short of the opposite wall: Zackel only gave the assessment that it had shown nothing in the hallway during its flight before he started down the one his staff was aimed at.
By the time he reached the end of the other hallway, having discovered nothing along the way, Zackel became vaguely aware that he was hyperventilating. He lowered his staff and tried to control his frantic, low breathing.
The flicker of movement in the corner of his eyes ruined his efforts.
Zackel's whirled staff again illuminated no threat or the source of what had gotten his attention. Breaking into a full sprint, Zackel ran down the hallway and thrust his staff around the corner again. Nothing. Zackel turned and stuck the staff into the nearby room, the same one with the hidden door. Still nothing, and the bookcase that he and Rielle had laid across the hidden passage did not look disturbed.
For a few seconds, Zackel considered pushing the bookcase aside and going back into the dark chamber. Maybe in there, the secrets and torments visited upon him would be solved…
Or maybe inside lay his horrific demise, leaving Rielle vulnerable…
Zackel planted the staff on the floor again and put a hand on his face, trying once more to calm his breathing. The ragged nature of his rising and falling chest was starting to bear the faint echo of a sob.
"…you…are…stronger than this." Zackel whispered. "You do not…answer…"
Maybe there was another clattering of noise down the hallway. Maybe Zackel just imagined it, as he jerked his eyes in its direction.
And felt the cold numbness wash up his arm, making his eyes widen even more. The faint crackling crunch that sounded down the hall confirmed it.
One of his traps had been set off.
Zackel drew one long, vicious breath in through his nose, and then seized his staff and stalked towards where he'd laid the trap. It had not triggered in his line of sight, and Zackel had heard no scream or cry to indicate something had been caught by it, but at this point, he was taking no chances. Cold energies swirled around his body, ice at the ready to protect or pulverize. Zackel pushed all the fears into the back of his head as he approached the corner, and practically leapt around it.
…to once again, find nothing.
Well, not precisely nothing. Several feet from him, the hallway was blocked off by over a dozen ice blades, all having stabbed into the hallway in a rough estimation of the usual center of mass most creatures had. They had caught no foe; the ice sat there unmarred by blood or broken by a flailing limb. The sprung trap was so fresh that Zackel could spell the strange sour tint it left in the immediate aftermath.
Zackel stared at it for seemingly an eternity, before he crept forward and reached out with a hand. The ice felt cold and smooth beneath his hand. The building pressure in his head began roaring to a peak, his mind creaking on its hinges.
It's unstoppable. There's nothing you can do. It will run you ragged until you can't fight back and then it will have you. You are a toy, a pawn. Just like last time. Just…
"Just…" Zackel said, spitting the word out like it had been a giant wad of glue in his mouth. "…But…doesn't this…work against it as much as for it? Because…I'd know it's there?"
The quiet night gave Zackel no response, as usual. Zackel planted his staff again and fully applied his nose to the grindstone this time, refusing to let anything distract him.
"…I…am capable…of setting off my own traps." Zackel said. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, and continued. "I thought I saw movement. I was getting worked up into a state of frenzied panic. There was no noise, no trace of the trap catching anything. There is no spirit I know of…that can completely ignore the effects of the arcane…if they want to stay in a form that can affect the world. I thought something was going this way…and I set off my own trap. That is a possibility."
Zackel opened his eyes, slowly turning around yet again.
"What is making the noise? Perhaps just a rat, a small number of vermin I only notice now because I'm hypersensitive. I do not actually know if something brushed my robes. This is all possibly still in my own head. No evidence, no solid evidence, that it's anything else. Evidence still refuses to present itself. Evidence…is…lacking…?"
Zackel stopped, ears cocked. Whatever he was expecting, it did not happen.
"…things continue to suggest that I am doing this to myself. I re-iterate that I must stop. I know I am capable of it. I must act on that capacity." Zackel said, as he began to walk through the dark hallways again. After nearly ten minutes of doing so (during which Zackel retrieved the sputtering torch), he had found absolutely nothing else. No new sounds, no slight movements, no whispers from the dark corners of his mind, heart, or soul.
With that, his mind settled back down.
"…I think your best opportunity has passed." Zackel finally said, turning to head back to his triggered trap. The fact that it remained as it had been, minus the beginning stages of melting, reinforced Zackel's burgeoning decision. "I am done giving you any more power. If you want anything else…"
Zackel held out his hand, the ice breaking down into blue energy that flowed back into glowing runes on the wall.
"You'll have to come and take it." Zackel said. "Come get me in my sleep, if you dare. If you can even dare. Best hurry. I'm close to dismissing you entirely."
The very faint noise of Zackel's shoes on the stairs was all that answered Zackel's words. He quietly made his way up, pausing before he entered the room and checking to make sure he wasn't about to walk into a swung axe. As it turned out, Rielle was not lying in ambush. In fact, she hadn't even seemed to have woken up, as Zackel walked into the room and looked at her sleeping form.
"…must be nice…" Zackel said to himself, his voice nearly inaudible.
Is that what you think?
Zackel's eyes shot open once more, and despite all his efforts the panic came roaring back.
You're tortured by phantoms and possibilities. She sleeps like she's resting off a fine meal in an inn. Are you really so blind, mage? Are you fighting so hard to try and keep her from what you see, that you refuse to see that there might be truth in it?
Zackel's hand seized onto his hair as he shut his eyes tight. The images that flashed across his mind made him open them again, staring at Rielle's sleeping form.
Her side is easily faked. Her side is not matching. HER actions…why don't you look at THAT other side, Wintersoul?
Maybe it's in HER. Maybe it IS her.
"Can't be…"
You think that bored, ball-breaking interaction is kindness? She's made this so much harder than it had to be. Just like the other. You claim there's so much difference: is there really any, deep down? With all you're experiencing?
Zackel tried to swallow and found nothing to do so with.
She's taking away your peace of mind. She's taking away pieces of YOU. There's no solutions out there: the solution is in HERE. Solve it.
"You are nothing but late-night paranoia and old pain."
Are you really willing to stake your life for the sake of your denials? You vowed to face pain instead of letting it shackle you: it's time to do so. Solve it.
Zackel looked at Rielle's calmly sleeping form…
YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WHEN YOU TRIED TO IGNORE ME! YOU RUINED HIS LIFE!
…and took a step towards it.
Don't let it happen again. Never will it happen, again.
Another step.
Make the hard decision. Cast it all away. Be free of it…
Zackel held out a hand, the fingers curling around Rielle's body from Zackel's perspective.
FACE THE PAIN.
Zackel clenched his fist.
And whirled around as he began hammering it against his own head, stalking towards a wall before he dropped his staff and began literally banging his face against the stone.
"I. Am. NOT THAT WEAK." Zackel snarled after several strikes, pulling his face away from the rock as he felt blood began to run down his forehead. "If you're something else, get a new line. And if you're me, that damn nagging dark voice given strength by all that's happened…I suggest you realize the gaping flaws in your argument. Because when it comes right down to it, I'm going to silence YOU before I do HER, no matter how much she may hurt me. You should know full well why. YOU SHOULD KNOW FULL WELL."
Once again, Zackel had no answer, and he slowly withdrew from the wall and sat down, feeling the blood run down his face.
"Accept nothing. Accept any thing. Sometimes when you want a simple answer, their grand advice is about as useful as a hole in the head. Especially when I'm driven to beat it in myself." Zackel said, feeling at the wound again. A drop of healing elixir would probably be best. Zackel pushed himself up from the floor, trying to make sense of the whole evening and whether or not there was an enemy…
Rielle's low groan nearly made him jump out of his skin.
"…Rielle?" Zackel said, looking at the sleeping alien, whose rest apparently wasn't peaceful any more. She'd curled up into a semi-fetal position, her hands tightly clenching the furs beneath her.
In retrospect, Zackel realized he really should have kept his distance, or at least been more careful in his approach.
At the time, all he thought was that his makeshift alcohol had had a completely unexpected reaction to the alien and that she was in pain, and he sprinted over to make sure she didn't suffer something like throwing up while she was still half-asleep and choking on her own vomit.
"Rielle!"
Zackel's touch made Rielle's eyes snap open. The expression there, and the way her body coiled like a snake, immediately told Zackel he had been wrong in his assessment. She wasn't in pain. She was in the grip of what seemed to have been a fierce nightmare.
And the actual world hadn't settled on her fast enough before she had her knife out and heading for Zackel.
The hot spatter of liquid on her face rammed the too-slow sense of reality home on the alien. She blinked, and then looked at what she had done.
Zackel, in turn, looked at the sheath of ice over his hand…and the knife point piercing right through it and the hand beyond, coming out the other end. He blinked, even as Rielle's eyes widened in horror from what she'd done.
"…ow." Zackel whimpered.
The pain…
The blood…
The laughing, the damn LAUGHING…
Zackel promptly took another shot in his long-abused 'manhood', as his own eyes rolled up and he promptly fainted.
"You sure you're all right." Rielle said some time later.
"For the eighth time, yes. Healing potion did the trick." Zackel said, carefully flexing his now fixed appendage. He hadn't been out long, and he'd woken up to what he could have sworn was Rielle in a full-blown state of panic as she dug through his bags. Of course, once he'd groaned and sat up, and it had become clear that he wasn't about to keel over again and die, she'd come over and yelled at him for his messy bags. And then yelled at him for waking her up like that and getting his stupid ass stabbed. Then she'd yelled at him for not having his ice armor protect him, and when Zackel had pointed out she'd driven the dagger right through it she'd yelled at him for having weak ice. It was only after the retrieved tincture had closed up his wound and it was clear that he'd suffered no permanent damage that she'd issued an apology. Which had been followed by a few more.
"Let me see." Rielle said, kneeling down and taking Zackel's hand, pressing at several points with her fingers. "Intact…intact…knitted together and intact. And you don't deserve that, you IDIOT."
"Yes, I'm sure the point ending up in my throat would have been a far better result."
"YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL! You'd…I'd…" Rielle stammered.
"Yes Rielle. I know." Zackel said. "But…it didn't occur to me. You looked like you were hurt."
"I was just having a bad dream. Probably your stupid weerkuay alcohol. You deserve a beating you stupid mage. Stupid…mage…" Rielle said, her eyes locking with Zackel's.
"Yeah…" Zackel replied, his voice trailing off. For a moment, Rielle's softly glowing eyes helped him forget that he'd nearly worked himself into a nervous breakdown and then gotten a dagger through his hand. So much nicer that there was no longer any fear in them. Fear did not suit them.
Fear…did not suit…
"…argh. Your breath! Blergh!" Rielle said, jerking away. "You did that on purpose!"
"What? Uh…um…hmmm." Zackel blinked, turning away a touch. "Breathed in your face? I didn't…huh. Subconscious revenge. Damn, my brain IS good."
"It'll look even better splattered on the ground, the next time you do something stupid like that!" Rielle said, stalking back over to her furs. "Get your stupid ass over here. I'm not sleeping with you across the room. If I have another bad dream your dumb ass will come over to help and I'll probably put my knife in that empty space between your ears that time. If you're over here with me maybe I'll have enough memory of you there to not slit your throat. Or maybe I'll have easier access. I haven't decided yet."
"………Not yet…" Zackel replied, turning away from Rielle. "I have to organize my alchemist materials. Maybe I'll brew some more stuff up while I'm at it. After that little bit of fun, I'm not exactly tired."
"…whatever. Suit yourself." Rielle said, curling back up on her bedding. "Stupid mage…thought you made me sick…should have stabbed your other hand for good measure…"
Rielle grew quiet after that, and left to his own thoughts, the full reality of the night settled back onto Zackel. Along the fact that he still didn't have any answers in regards to why.
How long he sat there, brewing things, Zackel wasn't sure. All he knew when he was done was that he probably had enough cleaning material and fermentation process liquid to last a month. None of it really helped to calm his mind. Or give him any solutions.
He'd stalked and run through the empty fortress. Rielle had had a nightmare so bad she'd come close to killing him. Coincidence? A side effect of his drinks? Something else? Something bad?
Eventually, though, even the cold stimulation of fear couldn't out-pace the need for rest. Maybe an answer would present itself in the morning.
Or maybe he'd never wake up at all, but Zackel doubted he'd be that lucky. Waking up to find something was already flossing with his guts was probably more likely, the way his fortune was going.
Normally, Zackel would have been careful when he walked over and laid down near Rielle to rest. This time, he was EXCEPTIONALLY careful.
Not two seconds after he'd fully gone prone, Rielle rolled over and semi-placed, semi-slammed her arm down on him.
Zackel tried to control his jerk of surprise. He didn't think he did a very good job.
"Huh…oh thereyur…" Rielle muttered sleepily. "Stayther, can keep tabs on your dumbazz…"
"…if you want." Zackel said.
"Heyzakkel…"
"…yes?"
"Whathappenedtoyurforehed…"
"…nothing Rielle. Just…go to sleep."
"Mmmmmgoodidea…sleep…" Rielle said. The quiet returned, followed by the slow, smooth breathing of rest from the draenei.
"…I fully expect to wake up to find this hand strangling me." Zackel said, and tried to sleep.
The only thing the hand did, in the end it seemed, was chase away any nightmares that sought out the mage that night.
Followed by repeatedly poking Zackel and demanding breakfast.
Writer's Note: Well, um…I did say that I was going to actually start revealing stuff…uh…this is your fault! I want more reviews! Yeah that's right! I look at my story traffic you know! Either you give me more reviews, or I swear the posting gaps and the filler will only INCREASE from here on-ARGH! *crashing noises*
Rielle: Oh look, it finally happened. The author finally got a big head and thought he was writing Diplomacy or something.
Zackel: Did you have to beat him up and leave him tied up in his bathroom?
Rielle: It's for the best. We can write this! Finally actually GET somewhere, instead of all this dancing around!
Zackel: Better let me do it, I'm the mage.
Rielle: WHAT? What's THAT supposed to mean! You supercilious limp-wristed oblivious twit…!
Zackel: NO NOT IN THE FACE NOT IN THE FACE-ARGH!
*More crashes*
Jasciona: I don't know what this bodes to, but I doubt it's anything good.