Chapter 32: Such Sweet Sorrow
Zackel wasn't much surprised that the ogres were gone.
He also wasn't much surprised that the only thing they had left behind was Mug'thol's head.
"I'll admit I'm hardly an expert…" Zackel said, crouching down by the severed, semi-destroyed cranium. The mage would have sworn the ogres hadn't even moved it from where it had come to rest after Zackel had tossed it: as said, it was the only thing that remained in the basement room besides the scattered bones and waste. The ogres had all cleared out down the tunnel, and Zackel saw no need to follow them. In his own way, he wished them well, or at least no further harm unless it was called for. "But I'd say that even in your species' viewpoints on strength equally superiority…that while you might have been a great dictator, you were a piss-poor leader."
Mug'thol, quite obviously, had no reply. Zackel stood back up, stretching his legs beneath his robe.
"Now, this might come off as petty, but all the same…" Zackel said, and then kicked Mug'thol's head off into the dark tunnel. "That's for hurting Rielle, you son of a bastard."
Turning, Zackel tossed a gesture over his shoulder, fire exploding in the tunnel and sealing it off from the castle once more.
"And that is probably more of a burial than you deserve." Zackel said, walking up the stairs of the basement for the last time, his feet splashing in the pool of water from his melted ice plug.
The castle was quiet as he entered the hallway, and Zackel paused, looking up at the stairs leading to the main room. Despite the fact that he knew Rielle was waiting for him by the castle entrance, he found himself climbing back up the stairs before he reached the doorway of the room they'd spent all their time in.
Stripped of the small touches Rielle and Zackel had added to it, the abandoned nature of the Alterac fortress came back full force. The pair had left the cleaned ogre blankets in the room, though Zackel felt a tinge of sadness looking at them now. He traced his eyes over the washtub and buckets, the broken and battered furniture, the bashed-up fireplace whose fire had finally been completely extinguished, feeling strange that they would provoke such sentimentality in him. Then again, he'd found a wonderful thing here, so maybe it made more sense than one would think.
"….So long." Zackel said, tossing a salute to the room before heading back down the stairs, the mage heading to the front of the castle. He'd thought that he might find Rielle in the room with the gate controls, but the Draenei was absent: apparently, she'd already activated them and moved on from there. Zackel headed to the door, feeling the slight breeze on his face as he did.
Rielle was standing on the small stone bridge that entered into the castle, staring up at the semi-clear blue sky. The Draenei was fully back in her armor now (said armor having been checked for any more nasty surprises), save for the face mask/plate of her helmet. She turned her head as Zackel approached, though the way she kept her axe on the ground indicated that she knew it was him.
"Ogres have cleared out. Might have been gone for hours." Zackel said.
"Hmmm. No longer our problem." Rielle said. "So, this is it, right? This isn't some eye of a hurricane or something, because I swear, if I have to spend another several weeks trapped with you, I don't care WHAT you are to me now, you WILL end up a head on that mantelpiece I broke."
"Personally, I'd think I'd make a poor trophy specimen." Zackel said. "It's over, Rielle. I knew it when I woke up this morning. The storm has passed. Any other storm that comes by is not my doing, and from tasting the air, I can assure that the odds of another storm happening in the immediate future are nil."
"I would have laid same odds on some other things about you, mage." Rielle said, turning and coming close to Zackel. "But…I guess with that fact done, this is goodbye."
"…Guess so." Zackel said.
"…Well, maybe. I'm going to feel very foolish about the supposed poignancy we could have here if I see you in Southshore in a few hours." Rielle said.
"You probably won't…" Zackel said, glancing over Rielle's shoulder. "I think…I'm going to just stay in the area a little longer. Have a moment alone, with my thoughts and experiences."
"You still think there's treasure lying around you don't want to share with me, don't you."
"Now Rielle, who knows what the ogres have lying around that they…I MEAN…!" Zackel said with exaggerated alarm. "I mean just that, in seriousness."
"I figured you did." Rielle said, before bopping Zackel on the top of his head.
"OW! That actually kind of hurt! What was that for?" Zackel said, holding his head.
"That was for taking credit for killing Mug'thol. Fraud."
"You know I did that for simplicity's sake-OW!" Zackel yelled as Rielle bopped him again.
"That one was for the road." Rielle said, and did it again.
"OW!"
"One to grow on."
"OW!" Zackel said as the Draenei bopped him a fourth time.
"And one for luck." Rielle said, before she leaned in. "And this…is for everything else."
The slight chill on Rielle's lips only made her greater warmth evident. Zackel let his staff go to fully draw the Draenei to him, embracing her as close as he could. The sweetness of the kiss almost compensated for the sorrow when Rielle broke it.
"May the Light embrace you." Rielle whispered.
"I think it already has." Zackel said. Rielle smiled softly before stepping away from Zackel, producing her face-plate from her side and snapping it on.
"…See you." Rielle said, turning around and beginning her walk away.
"…Later." Zackel replied, watching the Draenei go. The snow crunched softly beneath her boots as she walked off, leaving a trail behind her. Zackel allowed himself one last look at her, both appreciative and amorous…
Before Rielle's foot hit a hidden pocket in the ground and plunged in, the Draenei almost falling flat on her face.
"ARGH!" Rielle yelled, her voice echoing across the Alterac Mountains. "…You didn't see that. Tell me you didn't see that."
"Okay. I won't tell you." Zackel said.
"Weerkuay." Rielle said, pulling herself back up and shaking the snow off her leg. "I'm really starting to miss my Elekk…"
Zackel said nothing, sitting on the side of the stone bridge and watching Rielle as she truly headed off. He closed his eyes before she vanished from sight, keeping them closed for a long time after he knew she was gone. All the same, Zackel felt the same mournful tinge when he opened his eyes and looked at her tracks, a lone line against the otherwise-unbroken snow.
"…show me…the way to go home…I'm tired and I want to go to bed…" Zackel hummed to himself, leaning on his staff. "I met one fel of a girl today, and she's gone right to my head…wherever I may roam…by land or sea or foam…"
Zackel didn't know how long he sat there, but what ultimately drew his attention were the yells being carried on the wind. Opening one eye, he tried to focus in on the sounds and, when he found that didn't really work, he stood up and put a hand behind his ear.
The noises were faint but constant, and of one singular breed: combat. Zackel cocked his head at the impression of the din, trying to puzzle out just what it meant. Had Rielle run into trouble? Had some Crushridge ogre remnants found her and tried to seek revenge? No, that couldn't be it, he'd been sitting at the front of the castle for at least an hour, surely Rielle was long gone, or at least long out of range of his hearing. Then what was that…?
"…Well…it's not like I can shoot myself in the foot any harder." Zackel said, and began heading in the direction of the noise. He kept his eyes and ears open as he went, ready for any possible ambush, but none came as he made his way through the Alterac ruins, eventually reaching the mountain gates he'd passed through an eternity ago. The sound was close there, and Zackel continued to follow it.
The moment the mountains were no longer blocking his view, he could see the smoke. After traversing some more snow and a steep hill, Zackel found its source.
Down in the snowy valley before him, dozens of men and women were stationed. Zackel's eyes widened a bit as he crouched, having immediately had a bad feeling. Said feeling proved to be accurate once Zackel made out the sole characteristic all the men and women shared: they all wore yellow bandannas over their lower faces. Syndicate.
"The fel…?" Zackel said, peering around the battlefield that the Syndicate had forged. Several bodies of members of the organization lay in the snow, blood staining the white red…as did the bodies of a few ogres. It didn't take Zackel long to figure out just WHAT the Syndicate was targeting, once he spotted the ogre corpses. The group had all clustered around a large cave entrance: even as Zackel watched, two Syndicate humans tossed small objects into the cave. A blast of smoke and a muffled boom indicated said objects were clearly bombs.
"Keep it up!" One of the Syndicate yelled. "They can't hide in there…!"
A thrown stone hammer took the yelling Syndicate's head right off, but the ogre that had come out to throw it paid a dear price as several crossbow bolts slammed into his body. The ogre tried to turn and flee back into the cave, but a few more crossbow bolts to the back dropped him for good.
"That's it boys! Smoke 'em out, and then cut them down!" Another Syndicate member yelled, though this one had the sense to keep his head down when he did so. Another Syndicate member tossed another bomb, even as several others fired more crossbow bolts around and into the cave entrance. Zackel swore he heard a faint cry inside the cave, though whether it was from fear or pain, Zackel didn't know.
But he did know that the cave the Syndicate were laying siege too was far too small to be effectively defended. The Crushridge ogres that had survived the storm had clearly done so only to fall prey to an attack of opportunity by the Syndicate.
The Syndicate, who likely hadn't been hiding inside from a killer blizzard for weeks, living off whatever food they had. For who knows how long, both groups had fought over the Alterac Ruins, and now it seemed like the Syndicate had picked the perfect time to end it. And it would only end one way.
Zackel hadn't seen any bodies of ogre women and children, but he doubted they were hiding somewhere else. He also doubted that the Syndicate would discriminate.
But really, why was this his problem? He'd gone above and beyond already for the ogres. This wasn't his fight…
It was just the fight the ogres found themselves in because of him.
"Don't you dare do anything that would disappoint me…"
"…where is the line between a champion and a fool…?" Zackel said, brushing back his hair. "…A champion probably has more money."
The chill energies began to build around Zackel, the mage calling upon his gift from the Light and the crafters of existence. Maybe he couldn't start a blizzard again (or rather, he COULD, but that would have been the absolute stupidest option he could have picked, because even if he escaped this time, the ogres would still have to deal with it), but he hadn't spent all that time on the roof without learning a few tricks that would let him damn well fake one for a bit. And the Syndicate, as dressed as they were for the weather, were not dressed well enough.
"…Guess I'm a fool then." Zackel said. "Too bad for me. And for them."
The winds began to surge down from the mountain, Zackel's hair and robes fluttering in its embrace as he stood up. Whether it was the overt movement or the actual gale, the Syndicate finally noticed he was there.
"Who the fel is…!"
"Just a fool." Zackel said, and raised his staff.
The ice storm erupted from his body, sweeping down from the hill and engulfing the Syndicate thugs. Zackel watched the criminals recoil, yell, stumble around, and generally try to defend themselves with calm detachment.
"But I'm in good company." Zackel said. "The black wind blows; the fickle grace of possibilities. Now it comes on the winter of your discontent."
As far as his poetry went, Zackel thought it was pretty poor. Then again, one shouldn't waste the good material on rabble. Besides, Rielle wasn't here to critique him.
He wondered what she would have thought of this.
It was a question that ultimately was far colder than any of the storm he'd called to scatter the Syndicate. For when all was said and done, he never saw her again.