Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

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One Week a Month, or: Asric & Jadaar at the Faire

Chapter 6

by silverr

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"Don' move."

The warning was whispered so quietly Jadaar supposed that he could have imagined it, but then came quick footsteps, the light coming through his eyelids was eclipsed, there was a swirl of air across his face, and then a voice.

"Pity. He's not going to wake up in time to row." A woman's voice, familiar, but his mind was too fuzzy to identify it. "No matter. He's of more use as meat for your incentive program. Is he one of those stoic types that bears pain silently?"

"No need for incentive. I tol' you I do what you want."

She laughed, a nasty, mocking sound. "As if I'd trust the word of a troll!"

The footsteps went away.

"Ya, well, better than aqir," Griftah muttered. "Hey mon, you still alive?"

Jadaar opened his eyes. Most of what he could see was blurry shadows, but just at the edge of his vision was the cage. A bent blue pipe waggled between the bars – no, it was Griftah's arm, waving at him. "Yes." His mouth was numb: all he could manage was a slurred mumble.

"Why you follow an' try to rescue me, mon?" Griftah asked. He sounded surprisingly emotional. "I swear by de bones, nobody ever risk life and soul for Griftah before. You and dat elf da best friends Griftah ever have."

Jadaar harumphed, though it was not much more than a puff of air.

"Did you find him alive or dead?" Griftah asked.

"Found," Jadaar said. "Not … dead." He tried to move his arms and legs, but he couldn't feel any of his body except for his chest and the side of his face, which was pressed against the rough planked cabin floor.

"I didn't cut him, mon," Griftah said. "Was Miresha and her boys, paintin' me up for murder."

"I know." It was worrisome, how much effort it took to push each word out. Didn't bode well for springing into action, but then he supposed that was the point. "Why … the … cove?"

"Found a note on my barrel," Griftah said. "Say come to meet special customer, big money. I tell dat elf to stay back but he say no, he guarding me, he come too. When we get there we see Miresha and some man. Man say he want to talk to me in private. Miresha say she can keep dat elf company."

Jadaar made a disgusted gargle.

"Ya, she know his weakness, dat for sure." Griftah said. "Anyhow, man take me over by the water and starts giving me butter and sugar, how he know my work for Silas and want me to make some special shinies for someone."

"Amulets? For who?"

"He didn't tell me," Griftah said. "Least, I don't think he did, since I was listenin' only one half one ear to him."

"Why?"

"Well," Griftah said, "I be busy watching Miresha pullin' at dat elf, tryin' ta turn him 'round." He chuckled. "You should have seen her getting sour because skinny chicken was watchin' me business instead of peckin' at her."

"Then … what?"

"I feel a sting on my shoulder," Griftah said. "Next I know, my legs going soft. Dat elf starts yellin' I should run, and Miresha grab her hand on his neck like she scared."

"Poison needle. Ring ... probably."

"Ya," Griftah said. "Dat elf – " He paused, then said firmly, "Asric – he try hard to save me when he see it goin' down. Two men come from the trees and he try to take both so I can get away. And he fight good wit no knife, kickin' dirty in the fork of dey legs, but her poison it unstring him fast. When he fall Miresha tell everyone be quiet, because children are playin' in East Back woods. She say must hurry, can't worry about dart, stupid goat never gonna find no how."

"Hmpf. Wrong." Jadaar tried moving his shoulders again, and this time could feel, very faintly, his arms across his back. Tied together, most likely. He supposed his legs were bound as well. Miresha was certainly taking no chances, even in the middle of the sea.

"Next I know I be over the edge of the cliff an' in a boat. Dey put Asric on some rocks, and den …"

"Stab him."

"Yeah." Griftah was subdued. "But he fine now? All fix up?"

"No." Jadaar wished he knew how much of the difficulty he was having in moving was from Miresha's poison, and how much from being bound. "Different poison. Chronos said … slow death." He felt a chill saying that, as if speaking the words would make it so.

Griftah was silent for several minutes. "Damn bug."

"Bug?"

"She aqir, mon. Troll always know aqir."

Jadaar almost laughed. "Is that … some sort of insult?"

After Griftah explained, Jadaar didn't feel like laughing anymore. Griftah claimed that Miresha's true form was that of a giant stinging insect similar to the Nerubians and the Qiraji. This "third race," according to Griftah, had been cut off from the spider and beetle aqir millennia ago when Kalimdor's original continent had been shattered.

Jadaar was astounded. Putting aside the ridiculousness of Griftah's claim – giant insects indeed! – it was imperative to get to Miresha's motive in all this. "What does … she want … with you?"

"You'll find out," Miresha's voice sliced in. "Soon enough."

There was a hissing noise, and a bitter-smelling fog gusted into Jadaar's face. He held his breath as long as he could, hoping that the mist would dissipate, but when he at last gasped for air he breathed it in and passed into blackness once more.

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He awoke to the sight of rounded gray stones moving past a slit in the floor, but after a moment he understood that he was off the ship, in a crude cart moving along a street. A large number of voices were chanting "Apok'rita! Apok'rita! Apok'rita!"

He very much hoped that this did not mean "Kill the blue-skinned prisoners."

The cart bumped over the cobblestones, turned to the right and onto a road of smooth stone blocks, and gradually left the chanting crowds behind. They rode into shade – he could feel the sunlight leave the back of his head and neck – and there were loud deep sounds that suggested the movement of immense wooden gates. The cart jerked, then moved forward a short distance, back into sunlight. He was grateful for the warmth as he listened to light metallic jingling and leathery noises. Harness being detached?

The floor of the cart tilted abruptly. Something heavy – most likely the unconscious Griftah – slid against him and pushed him off the cart and onto the ground, pressing his face into the dirt.

He forced himself to keep still until the gates creaked again, there was the sound of fading hoof-clops, and then silence.

Between being face down and being smothered by dead weight he was having trouble breathing, so he turned his head to the side – regrettably, right into Griftah's armpit.

"No one can resist me trollmusk," Griftah muttered.

"You mean no one can survive it," Jadaar said, coughing.

Griftah groaned as he got to his feet. "I guess this prison yard be my workshop," he said. "Lemme see if there be anything can cut ya ropes."

From what Jadaar could see, they were, indeed, in what looked like a prison yard. Six floors of barred cells surrounded them on three sides; the fourth wall was a pair of huge ironbound wooden gates. In the center of the open area was a large table holding dozens of flasks, dried herbs, and glass jars of what might have been body parts. Next to the table a black cookpot hung over a pile of unlit firewood.

Griftah came back and began sawing at Jadaar's bonds. "Hey mon, what's up with ya fingers? You be makin' squid ink?"

Jadaar pulled one of his hands free. They were shaded as if with soot, and dark green lines circled his wrist.

Griftah went over and began to poke through the ingredients on the table. "So, what be all dat on you?" he asked in a low voice.

"Same poison she used on Asric," Jadaar said, ashamed that there was a tremor in his voice. It wasn't death itself – he'd faced it before, been near it a few times – it was the circumstances. If it was not his fate to die in old age, surrounded by family, at least he had expected to die in battle for some worthwhile cause, fighting the Legion or the Scourge or the Twilight cult. He most certainly did not want to fade away as a bystander to some ridiculous scheme.

Griftah stopped and looked over at him. "I tell her she mus' give us antidote, less I won' do her dirty work."

"She won't agree to that," Jadaar said.

"I won't agree to what now?" Miresha was leaning on the railing of the top floor's balcony, looking down at them. "It's so amusing that you think you're in a position to negotiate."

"So what we doin' here?" Griftah called up to her. "Plantin' a garden? Let's get on wit' it!"

"So eager to be of service," Miresha said. "I like that."

"Wanna get done, so we can get gone," Griftah said.

Miresha smiled. "I see. All right then." She leapt over the edge and floated down to them.

(For an instant, just an instant, Jadaar thought that he saw the shape of phantom wings, six legs, and a grotesquely swollen thorax and abdomen, but then he blinked and it was gone. Merely a trick of the near-blinding sunlight and the poison fueled by Griftah's fanciful tales.)

"Now," Miresha said as she landed. "Oh, and," – this was addressed to Jadaar – "don't get any heroic ideas." She glanced up at the guards watching from the floors above. "My Royal Protectors. Don't move unless you'd prefer to be a pile of smoking meat." She turned back to Griftah. "I want an amulet that will make me invisible."

"Pishbo, easy," Griftah said.

"So you have everything you need to make one?" Miresha folded her arms. "I hardly believe that."

"You didn't listen," Griftah said. "I said it's easy once I get what I need to make it happen."

"Such as?"

Griftah then began to name – well, Jadaar assumed they were ingredients, as he'd never heard of most of them. The last thing Griftah said was, "And get de fire going. A cold cauldron ain't no help to no one."

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After Miresha levitated out of the courtyard – happily, Jadaar didn't hallucinate wings – the wooden gate opened just enough to admit a dozen or so armed guards, several robed persons carrying firewood, and finally a glassy-eyed gnome with a set of heavy hobbling shackles.

"There's no need for those," Jadaar said, knowing it wouldn't do any good.

"Apok'rita wishes it," the gnome droned. The guards pointed their weapons.

"Do what you must," Jadaar said, seating himself as comfortably as possible on the tilted cart bed, then stretching out his legs.

Griftah looked over at him. "No worries, mon, " he said, and winked. "Ev'rything gonna work out fine."

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Jadaar didn't know that much about amulet-making. Actually, he didn't know much about troll magic in general, but he'd always thought that the purpose of magic was to make certain tasks happen more simply and quickly. Amulet making, however, seemed to be neither simple not quick, and was apparently not interesting enough to keep him awake through the hours of … whatever Griftah was doing so purposefully at the table. One moment Jadaar had settled himself a little more comfortably in the corner of the cart, and the next he woke to see that the courtyard was now filled with chilly shade.

"Hey mon, welcome back," Griftah said, stirring whatever was bubbling in the cauldron and then coming to sit beside him. "How you doin' ?"

Jadaar turned his head to look at Griftah with his good eye. "I have been better."

"It be fine. You see. Trust old Griftah."

Jadaar didn't see how. The poison lines on his arms were already half-way to his elbow: hadn't Chronos said that when they reached his torso he'd die? He wondered if Asric was still alive. The thought that he might not be … was distressing.

"Done so soon?" Miresha had materialized from a shimmer of air.

"Ya," Griftah said as he stood and went to the table. "Had to try a few times, dem ememe berries wasn't ripe enough to give much juice." He glanced at Jadaar. "We goin' make a deal here, Miresha. You give me cure for dat poison, you get the shiny."

Miresha laughed. "And why would I do that?"

Griftah stood tall and said, "Go 'head and say no, den. Kill me, even. You ain't gonna find a better mojo maker, dead or alive."

Miresha looked from Griftah to Jadaar, then said. "I'll agree, but here are my terms. You're going to work a few more more magics for me, and after each one I'll reward you with a portion of the cure."

"We need enough for his elf friend, too."

"Who? That little red-haired … "

"Ya, that one," Griftah said.

Miresha got a crafty look. "Alright, troll. If you swear to give me exactly what I ask for, I'll swear to give you enough antidote for the goat's friend."

"What we oath-binding on?"

"The Twisted Thread?"

Griftah swallowed hard, then nodded. "All right. Bring it."

"What – " Jadaar started to ask, but Griftah shook his head.

After the oath was sworn – using, Jadaar was surprised to see, an actual piece of black thread which Griftah twirled into a loop and arranged in the palm of his hand – Griftah held out the amulet to Miresha. "I trust you keep your word, and bring the cure now?"

"In a minute." She pointed to Jadaar. "I'm a cautious buyer. I want to see this invisibility before I take the amulet. Make him demonstrate it to make sure it won't liquify me."

"No trust," Griftah said, shaking his head. He handed the amulet to Jadaar, "Hold tight in ya hand, and say lo'erin akrul."

"That's all?" Jadaar added under his breath. "I won't be liquified?"

"Ya be fine."

Jadaar did as Griftah instructed, but nothing happened: he could still see himself, solid as the irons around his ankles. He heard a squeal above him, and looked up to see a second Miresha on an upper floor, clapping her hands.

"Ya can open ya hand now," Griftah said with a chuckle.

The Miresha in the courtyard disappeared as the one above – the real one, Jadaar realized – said, "Well, I admit I'm impressed. I didn't actually think a buffoon like you had any real power. Why do you waste your time making those idiotic amulets?"

"Amulets been good business. A troll gotta eat."

"You could charge a hundred, even a thousand times the price of those love amulets for these."

Griftah shrugged. "Big mojo is hard work. Costs big money to work it, and it bite ya ass if you sloppy." He added, "Dead troll don't eat much."

"Alright, you delivered this one," Miresha said. "Put it on the table and I'll bring the first dose of antidote." She waved her hand, and black smoke spun off her fingertips, coalescing into a cloud that descended to the table and covered the amulet in a swarm of small insects. After a moment the swarm rose into the air, carrying the amulet up to Miresha and leaving behind a vial of dark greenish liquid.

Griftah snatched it up and hurried it over to Jadaar. "Drink up, mon!"

Jadaar held the vial. "You will bring enough for Asric?"

Miresha smirked. "I swore by the Thread, remember?"

He nodded and drank. To his surprise, the green lines along his forearm quickly faded, although some still circled his wrist.

"He still got de poison!" Griftah said indignantly.

"I told you, " Miresha said. "That's not a full dose. It'll take more than one to cure someone completely."

Griftah bared his teeth, a truly menacing sight. "Fine. What next?"

"I want," Miresha said, talking as she used the amulet to turn invisible and then back again, "to travel from this island to anywhere I want, and to bring things back here when I return."

"Why?" Jadaar blurted out, feeling uneasy at this request. Combined with invisibility, this would make Miresha an unstoppable thief.

"I need some prettier and more interesting subjects," Miresha said. "I'm tired of seeing the same faces every day."

Griftah rubbed his jaw. "So you want like a city portal," he asked slowly. "For comin' and goin' ?"

"Yes, but one only I can can use."

"Can't bring no one back through a private portal," Griftah said. "Spit 'em right out like a melon seed."

Miresha pouted. "Well, I suppose you're right."

"And I can only make a portal to one place. You wanna go lots of places, use ya ship."

"Ship travel is boring, and takes too long," Miresha said. "I need a place where lots of interesting people go. Someplace with portals to other places would be best."

"Shattrath?" Griftah suggested. "City portals there."

Miresha shook her head. "Not enough people. Isn't there any place else?"

"Well," Griftah said, scratching his chin, "Darkmoon? Lots of people come that week."

Jadaar was stupefied. Girftah had to be up to something. He couldn't seriously be talking so casually about how to help Miresha kidnap people.

Miresha made a face. "I suppose it'll have to do. Where will the portal be?"

"Wherever you want. West side has good hiding spots."

"But not too close to Rona," Miresha said. "She's creepy."

"I can send you out and get you back, one time," Griftah said, taking off his Darkmoon phasing amulet. "While you out there you gonna need to bury a special gray bag where you want ya portal on. And bring me some scoop of earth from the bury spot."

"No tricks, now," Miresha said. "After all, if I don't come back, there's no antidote."

"If you don' come back, everyone gonna be unhappy," Griftah replied. "You, me, Mister Jadaar here. Dat elf. Da Thread." He grinned, which was almost as frightening as his menacing look had been. "I sure don' want get dragged into da Twisting." He reached up and pulled a hair from his head. "Now shoo, woman. I got work ta do."

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The travel charm took far much less time than the invisibility one, although it involved some steps that Jadaar was glad to have missed the first time around.

Particularly the ones that involved various body fluids.

Miresha appeared just as Griftah was finishing up, and she apparently didn't know – or didn't care - what was in the small bag the troll handed her.

"Remember," Griftah said. "Bury the bag, bring back dirt."

"And what do I do to return here?" Miresha asked. When Griftah whispered in her ear she glared at him, furious, then put the amulet around her neck and disappeared.

"What did you tell her to do?" Jadaar asked.

"I guess she don't like disturbing the moss," Griftah said.

Jadaar decided not to ask for further explanation.

"So … " Griftah sat down. "I can see ya frettin' about dat skinny chicken. But he tough. Probably kickin' dat poison in de sac right now. He ever tell ya about the tricks and trouble he done up in Netherstorm?"

"Netherstorm?" Jadaar frowned. "But wasn't that ... wasn't that before he joined the Scryers?" And by extension, before he'd met Jadaar.

Griftah blinked, and Jadaar recognized the expression, even on a troll. It was the Oops! expression he'd see whenever he tripped up a suspect in their own lies. "You knew him before Shattrath," Jadaar said, as his world tilted and a number of small pieces that had never made sense about the whole Griftah fraud debacle fell into place. "He didn't lose the evidence I gave him for safekeeping, did he? He destroyed it deliberately. You bribed him to sabotage the investigation." And now Jadaar remembered cryptic comments Asric had made from time to time during their stay in Dalaran's Underbelly, comments that suggested that Asric had been paid to stay underfoot. "That's why he followed me to Dalaran! To warn you in case I dug up enough to file charges!"

Griftah pursed his lips, then nodded. "Ya, but hold up ya righteous long enough to hear dis: I didn't pay him to go along wit' ya to Northrend Tournament. Or ta Darkmoon."

"So what?" Jadaar wasn't as much angry as hurt. And then he was angry because he was hurt.

Griftah looked at him disbelievingly. "Serious mon, you got a coconut in you skull? Don' you know dat Asric all up in a tangle about you?"

"You're … you're joking!" Jadaar said, flustered. "That can't possibly be true." He shook his head. "He acts as if he can barely tolerate associating with me."

"He been playin' the grindsman to get your hackle," Griftah said, then added slyly. "Look to me like it workin' good. Everyone see your greeneye when he pretend he goin' go off and be humpity-hump for Ironman."

Jadaar had to admit that the Rodney situation had bothered him more than he'd wanted. "Pretend?"

"Ya, Rodney and Clover be making cow-eyes for so long, we all jes' about ready to lock 'em in a cage 'til they stop bein' so shy and 'fess it up." Griftah said. "Maybe we do the same for you." He looked sideways at Jadaar. "Ya people have a prohibit on it? Ya getting a look on me here."

"No," Jadaar said. "No, it's just that … " He hesitated. Perhaps if he explained, Griftah would respect his privacy and drop the subject. He took a deep breath. "I don't consider t'branec pa'norrem to be an appropriate subject for frivolous public discussion." Really, it was slightly humiliating to have to state something so obvious.

"So that all there is?" Griftah asked gently. "It bug you when people make jokes 'bout it?"

"It's not just that," Jadaar said, surprised to be having this conversation with Griftah of all people. "Being friends with Asric is difficult because … he's not only an outsider, he's a blood elf."

"Ahhh." Griftah nodded. "Blue-eyed and green-eyed, elves been enemies of both our peoples. So bein' friends wit' one, mos' don't approve." Griftah put his arm around Jadaar's shoulder. "Cheer up, mon! At leas' when you work Darkmoon, none of Silas people goin' spit on you. You and Asric can hang together all you want."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that."

Miresha materialized on Griftah's work table, sitting cross-legged, one cupped hand holding earth. Across her lap was Asric. The green lines on his arms had reached his shoulders.

"You can't be friends with the dead."

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To be continued ~

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Additional author's notes will be posted in my LiveJournal and Dreamwidth (URL in profile).

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(05) 16 May 2012