Ulduar

Part One

He'd have to die at some point.

That was painfully obvious. Nova had spent the last decade and a half or so killing potential threats to his maiden sweet, from the slimiest naga to the haughtiest high elf. He'd provided information vital to the Horde's storming of Tempest Keep and subsequent capture and execution of Prince Kael'thas and his highest military and civilian leaders, many of whom happened to be on Nova's list. He'd also aided where he could with storming the naga's underwater base in the Zangar Marshes and the destruction of Lady Vashj and her highest military and civilian leaders, who also had a modest representation on his list. He had plenty of experience identifying those with inconvenient knowledge about his raven-haired beloved and seeing to it that knowledge was lost.

Along with everything else.

And as threats to Anette went there were few greater than Theril Firedge. A powerful mage, a powerful voice in Silvermoon, Dalaran, and Horde politics. And most of all, a powerful man when it came to knowledge that Nova couldn't afford to let fall into the wrong hands. Assuming the former Elder didn't just decide to personally harm his granddaughter.

Nova remained motionless in the corner of the command tent as the other officers and functionaries filed out following the meeting. Firedge remained behind sorting out markers on the wide map of Northrend spread out on the table.

So easy to reach him. Nova had done the like countless times, getting a knife into his target before the poor fool even knew he was there. So easy, and yet in this case so impossible. Firedge was nobody's fool, and assuming he didn't have protections in place against assassins would be foolish in the extreme. Even if Nova could manage to get a knife in the heart of the former Elder of Corona's Blaze, there was no guarantee Theril didn't have some post-mortem surprises set aside for his killer. The old bastard had inherited most of the ruined village's wealth when the blood elves retook Quel'thalas, more than enough to prepare a bounty for his killer that would turn the eye of even the most pricey professional.

In any case his indecision cost him as Firedge turned, doing an impressive job of hiding his surprise at finding Nova there. He had to be surprised, didn't he? Nobody was that in control. "Ah, our sneak. I was beginning to wonder if you were even still part of this campaign, Nova."

Nova took a swig from Theril's brandy flask. From the way the mage's eyes narrowed, whatever the foul burning liquid was it must've been expensive. "You think I came all the way up to Azeroth's frigid asshole, enjoying the cold and all sorts of psychological triggers from my last romp up here, just for a lark?"

"And yet the scouting missions I assign your group are completed late or not at all. You and that brat of yours have a habit of disappearing without a trace, then reappearing once the danger is past."

Brat. So Theril was going to continue pretending Anette was no part of him. Nova couldn't figure out how anyone could not like his raven-haired ward, but Theril managed to make the most callous bastard look like the spirit of Winter Veil in comparison.

Ah well, at least Theril didn't suspect what they were actually doing. The fact that they were doing it when everyone else was undertaking the most dangerous of tasks was just a happy coincidence. Nova took another swig. "I'm not hearing a lot of gratitude, Eldre'alan. One of those disappearances resulted in the assassination of the Vrykul chieftain of the Icecrown plain, and in the ensuing chaos our forces cut through a thousand of the Lich King's pet giants and vargul with minimal losses."

"I saw the head," Theril said dismissively. "I'm still not convinced you personally severed it." Before Nova could sally another witty rejoinder he turned back to the map. "In any case your time off the leash is done. The final push to Icecrown Citadel is upon us, and even the Alliance is doing their part in clearing back the Scourge so the Ebon Blade and Argent Crusade can storm the Lich King's citadel with a few select representatives from each faction. No more follies like the Wrathgate . . . this time the Lich King falls."

Nova rubbed his hands together. "About time. That nonsense with the tourney was too funny for words, especially when our most esteemed Supreme Commander and the human King got into it, but I was beginning to wonder if we could afford the delay. So where are me and "the brat" to be? I appreciate the honor of being selected for the assault on the Citadel itself, but-"

"Don't be an ass, Nova. You're not first pick for anything, least of all the honor of battling the Lich King himself. That honor goes to other, more worthy souls. Such as your old friend Marbrand." Theril's lips pulled back in what might have been a smile. "Your place is in the trenches, holding back the Scourge reinforcements until the Frozen Throne is shattered."

Nova felt his own smile freeze on his lips. The trenches, battling wave after wave of vargul, abominations, aberrations, and manifestations. Not to mention the usual walking dead by the tens of thousands. False gods, Theril didn't just hold Anette in contempt, the fucker actually wanted her dead. "And you, ah, think that's the best place for a sneak and a novice mage barely into her late teens?"

"We need every body we can spare tossed between our desperate venture and the Scourge reinforcements."

"But it seems like kind of a waste, don't you think? You don't want to throw away a body like this." Nova punctuated that statement with a suggestive thrust of his hips.

"Gods above, Nova. Do you take nothing seriously? I've never once seen that insipid smirk leave your vapid blond head."

Nova shrugged and smiled wider. "Someone once told me that the reason humor exists is because when faced with understanding of a terrible truth, the only choices are to either laugh or to go insane. And since we live on Azeroth laughter is a vital defense mechanism."

Theril glared at him. "There is an alternative."

Nova blinked. "To going insane? I'm all ears."

"To facing the Scourge, you oaf." Theril tapped the top of the map. "While you've been pretending to do your job Alliance forces have actually done it, scouting your routes for us. In the farthest north of the Storm Peaks, beyond a bottomless ravine, there's a shelf where a seemingly abandoned titan facility has been discovered. By a dwarf claiming to be Brann Bronzebeard, the wanderlust brother of the dwarf "king." The way Theril's mouth twisted around the word showed the Elder's opinion of non-elvish royalty. Nova was inclined to agree; the other races learned nobility from elves, and their attempts to mimic it often reminded him of the bonobo apes in Stranglethorn Vale he and Anette had visited some years back and their pretenses at being human. Of course, compared to elves there wasn't much of a gap between humans and apes.

Theril continued, tone conveying amusement. "Whether or not it really is King Magni's brother, somehow survived in spite of all rumors of his death, he's shown up with wild tales of an old god imprisoned beneath Northrend who's on the verge of breaking free, thanks to the inadvertent intervention of the Lich King. Specifically the Scourge has been using this old god's essence to forge their weapons and armor."

Nova idly plucked the dagger from his belt and twirled it between two fingers, faster than the eye could follow. The weapon's passage made an odd bluish-green blur. "Saronite, you mean? The natives call it "The black blood of Yogg-Saron." Nerubians go nuts when they see it. Even the dead ones."

Theril grimaced at the weapon in distaste. He would be the sort to turn his nose up at legitimately earned loot. Or at least incontestably acquired. "Yes, well, Bronzebeard is agitating for a force to go and deal with this threat. Archmage Rhonin and the Council of Six seem to agree with him, although I couldn't say why. Therefore as an agent of Dalaran you have the choice of nobly volunteering yourself to this venture."

Nova tapped the tip of his dagger against his teeth. Well how about that? A choice between certain death facing endless undead monstrosities at the side of a bunch of poorly armed peasant and peon cannon fodder, or the opportunity to explore the wonders of the god-beings who shaped Azeroth and make souvenirs of any of those wonders small enough to stuff in his pockets.

"Would it help to tell Bronzebeard that I have some experience navigating the titan facility at Uldaman? In this case it's even true."

Theril snorted and turned away in dismissal. Nova gave a mocking salute to his back and started to slip out of the tent, only to be stopped by the former Elder's casually spoken parting words.

"And Nova? Don't think I haven't noticed you lurking in the shadows, trying to find the most convenient way to slip a dagger between my scapulae. The idea of killing me should be a notion too absurd to enter even your bubble-head."

Nova made no response, but as he made his way through the frigid, bleak encampment he felt a tingle between his own shoulder blades. Theril would have to die at some point. But he would probably be near the end of the list.

Speaking of the list, he should probably concentrate: contrary to Theril's misguided notions of Nova and his ward's loyalty to the Icecrown Citadel offensive, that wasn't what had brought them to camp tonight.

. . . . .

There was a man standing with his back to her in the middle of her tent. He appeared to be staring at her rumpled bed.

Anette suppressed all the inconvenient emotions like fear, surprise, amusement, disgust, desire for self preservation, dignity, and the other mishmash swirling around within her and adopted her Persona. Her adorable, rounded pixie face became expressive and lively, her large mysteriously dark eyes widened in excitement, and she clapped tiny hands for joy. "A visitor in my rooms! How scandalous! Did you come to ravish me?"

The man whirled, shocked. Had he expected that alarm cantrip he'd put on the entry flaps to warn him? More importantly, was that a pair of her panties he was holding?! Maybe he had come to ravish her. Before she could get a good enough look he tucked what he held into a pocket.

Now that annoyed her. Did the pig have any idea how hard it was to find comfortable silk undergarments in this hellish wasteland? A girl who wanted to be pampered had enough going against her on a military campaign in Northrend. Besides, if he wanted used ones he had to pay. That was the deal in Silvermoon and Stormwind.

But she shoved irritation behind her Persona, too, and paused theatrically, giving the intruder a brief once over. Definitely seemed the sort to buy used panties from dubiously aged half-elf girls. Older, overweight, bags under his eyes and saggy jowls and eyelids. His graying hair was clean, at least, and worn long, and his robes were fine. Archmage quality, actually. She cocked one hip out and planted her fist on it, tilting her head to the side. "You're not exactly what I daydream about when it comes to visitors come to ravish me in the night. And anyway even if I didn't think you're too old for me, don't you think I'm too young for you?"

That reminded her uncomfortably that her beloved was probably older than this human, and she'd been trying to get into his pants for months. But Hiezal didn't look old, and anyway he was an elf and the rules were different there.

The human got over his surprise, and tiresomely he immediately started preparing a spell. Anette pouted: Ever since the Scourge came back nobody wanted to talk. "Oh so you're just going to blast me with ice? Not even going to tell me who you are or what this is about?"

"No information, girl," the archmage growled, eyes starting to glow blue. "No mysteries solved. You're here, he's not. Fair or not, the sins of the father will be visited on his child. But you will at least have the name of the man who killed you. Archmage Starworth, of the Magetower of Stormwind."

Oh, so it was about that. How boring; it was always about that. Anette didn't know whether to yawn or burst out laughing. What problems her father caused her, and she didn't even know who he was. Not even Hiezal would tell her! And that was saying something, because she could usually get him to punch himself in the face just by batting her eyes and asking in a girly voice.

Anette tapped her lips in confusion with one coquettish finger. "Were you calling me a fair maiden, or saying the situation wasn't fair?"

For a moment Starworth looked confused as he struggled to recall his earlier words. "Both."

Seeing his confusion her excitement at the situation finally found a crack, and not even her Persona could hide it. Her mysteriously dark eyes once again widened, this time with delight. "Oh I can't believe it! And here we w-" she clapped her hands over her mouth, looking sheepish. "Oh no! That's one of the first things Hiezal told me."

"What things?" Starworth demanded. "What are you blabbering about, you stupid girl? Do you not realize I'm here to kill you?"

Anette made a key-locking gesture over her mouth. "Mmm mmm," she said. "Mmm!"

. . . . .

Guilt was not an emotion Korack Starworth was accustomed to feeling.

It wasn't that he didn't intend to go through with it. It was just that this adorable child was so, so damnably innocent. Innocent to the point of being ditzy. She was certainly old enough to understand his intent to kill her, and by her earlier words she understood that he was casting a frost spell at her. In fact, while he'd expected even a novice to the arcane to be able to disable his warning spell, he'd intended for its disabling to be a warning in and of itself. That she'd managed to slip past it while leaving it intact suggested she had some small talent, which meant she must know just how devastating the multiple simultaneous frostbolts he prepared would be once they struck her.

So why was she playing at Secrets with him? This wasn't what he'd expected from the daughter of his enemy. The thief who'd stolen from him had proven to be deadly and ingenious, engineering a masterful diversion, enlisting Starworth's own apprentice as his accomplice, killing her, and then evading pursuit and disappearing, slaying a dozen paladins and two priests in the bargain. Since then he'd somehow ducked a worldwide manhunt, at various times with rumors of dying (twice) and of going to another world (also twice).

For over a decade and a half he'd searched the world for this Nex-thanarak, or failing that something to steal from the man that was equal to the prize Nex had stolen from him. The Shard of Asteros, a relic of the highest order he'd pilfered from the vaults of Dalaran before its destruction. A relic of the Highborne and weapon of kings. The thief's child had seemed an equitable retaliation, and when in his search for vengeance he'd heard the rumors running rampant that Saire Firedge, newly inducted into the Kirin Tor as a member of the Sunreavers faction, had been the man's lover, and recalled the newborn half-elf child that had infested the halls of his magetower shortly after their return from Northrend, he'd put two and two together.

It hadn't taken much to see past the weak ruse that that bitch Tyene who only bedded women was the girl's mother. Especially not with how Firedge had gone into seclusion afterwards, or the way Tyene, Firedge, and that sly bastard Nova were thick as thieves and raised the child between them. With a bit more digging he'd been able to confirm that none of the other humans on the expedition could've been the baby's father, although for a time Marbrand had seemed a likely candidate. Especially since after the falling out between Firedge and Nova she'd taken the scarred human, newly ordained as a paladin, into her bed for a time.

Or so the rumors said. Starworth couldn't believe any woman would take such a hideously deformed man between her legs. But in any case he'd been prepared to enact his revenge on the child when that falling out occurred, only to discover that of all people it had been Nova who claimed possession of the girl and spirited her away. From that point they vanished for years and years, with barely a whisper of their presence. They'd returned and gained notoriety in Outland during the push to retake it from the demons and from the traitor Stormrage, but Starworth himself hadn't seen fit to venture onto that world, much as his vengeance tempted him. In any case they'd fought on the side of the Horde, making it nearly impossible for him to get to them.

But he'd had no choice but to join the campaign to Northrend, and as fortune would have it the Horde and Alliance were working nearly hand in hand for this final assault on Icecrown Citadel, to the point that they'd put their warcamps right next to each other and allowed some movement between them. Especially for a human visiting the blood elf portion of the camp.

So now, after so long, here he was ready to pay back Nex-thanarak for his audacity. Ignoring the girl's muffled sounds as she continued to play at talking through locked lips he finished his spell, sending a dozen shards of ice hurtling her way. A pity this blithering idiot of a girl didn't have her father's wits. He almost felt bad . . . for . . . her . . .

His frostbolts, among the highest ranking spells he could manage, struck a mana shield. But rather than halting the spell by absorbing the energy, as most mana shields did, this one was shaped to deflect the energy aside in a far more efficient manner. Which indicated a surprising adeptness to the arcane. In response to his spells the girl's upraised hands glowed blue for a moment, their movement in the beginnings of a counterspell slowed by the frostbolts even though all they'd touched were her shield.

Not such a ditz after all. Most mages her age would've died to the frostbolts alone, but she was following her defense up with a counterspell.

He canceled the second spell in his two-hit combo: frost to immobilize, arcane to shred her from the inside. Only this time her counterspell would've blasted him back across the room if he'd kept casting. Instead he swapped to his-admittedly less potent but more readily available-instant cast fire blast spell.

The next thing he knew his mana fizzled out of him. He stared in confusion at the girl, who was still slowed and recovering from her failed attempt to counter his spell. He knew of no mages with any sort of mana draining abilities, and anyway she hadn't done anything.

Then his confused mind registered his own mana shield, the one he'd prepared as soon as she'd unexpectedly spoken behind him, in a precaution against any magely tantrum the daughter of Saire Firedge might attempt. In the last second over a dozen hits, blindingly fast, had struck it, draining his reserves before he could cancel the spell. And now he felt two final hits, soft as a girl's punches, to his upper back.

Nova. The child's guardian, who he'd thought was well away from here. How? His warning spell was still active around the tent, and by all accounts the elf had the magical talent of a stonetusk boar.

Starworth's legs gave out, his vision swam, and he was barely aware of the blood pooling in his lungs, spreading in a growing stain down his blue robes, and finally pouring onto the groundcloth of the tent as he collapsed atop a puddle of it. With his lung punctured he couldn't even cry out in pain or for help.

. . . . .

Hiding the shaking in his hands, Nova stooped and casually wiped his weapons clean on the blue robe, then glanced over at his ward. He was doing his best to keep calm in spite of the adrenaline surging through his system from the danger she'd been in, but for Anette's part she was practically dancing in place in excitement.

"Can I tell him now, Hiezal?" she begged.

In spite of his panic he spared a smile of disbelief for his dearest heart. "He's dead. Tell him whatever the hell you want."

"Okay!" she danced over to him and leaned close to Starworth's face, staring deep into his dimming eyes. "The first thing Hiezal told me was to not let your enemy know their danger until it's too late for them. But anyway I was going to say that it's hilarious that you came here to kill me, since we came here to kill you. Except we did a better job, didn't we, Hiezal?"

"Are you insane? He caught you with your pants down in your very tent! If I'd decided to take a piss before coming to get you you'd be dead right now!"

She sniffed. "He only wishes he could catch me with my pants down. Did you know he stole a pair of my panties? They're probably ruined with his blood now! Anyway nobody ever fools you, Hiezal. You even knew just how to get past his magical defenses even though you couldn't see them."

Nova shook his head in exasperation. "I attacked him so viciously because I was terrified he was going to kill you before I could stop him. That was an archmage, dear heart. It was only good luck he was stupid enough to maintain a mana shield and inattentive enough to let me drain his reserves on it. And even then those must have been weakened from a day of fighting the Scourge."

Anette stepped over and kissed him on the mouth, hard. Nova loved his girl, he did, but he really wondered if she should be using her tongue like that. "About that. Did you have to ruin my panties when you killed him? And what about his clothes? That's runecloth, you know. I could've made two good robes out of that. Fat as he was maybe three."

Nova snorted, his fear dissipating now that the threat was, he hoped, past. At least for now. From this one source. "I didn't know he'd paused in his agenda of murdering you in your tent to riffle through your used intimate wear, or I would've pickpocketed him first. Either way I'll be more careful to consider the ramifications of looting the corpse the next time I'm backstabbing the person who's come to kill you."

"See that you do." She stepped back, tiny fists on even tinier hips. "What are we going to do about the body? And the bloody groundcloth? This wasn't how we planned it."

"Leave that to me." Nova leaned down and picked up the corpse, grunting a bit at the weight. Why did human mages all have to be so fat? Were they trying to avoid the horror of undeath by being too fat to be a skeleton? Against his will his mind turned to old Bobbulus, the undead monstrosity born of the mage Oridl, he of the cellulite and apprentice elf mage prostituting. Maybe he should spread the tale of old Bobbulus around the camp to scare all these mages with the prospect of an unlife of being fat, tormented fucks.

"Oh, and when you come back I'll have the bed made and we can get naughty."

Nova glanced back over his shoulder, then tried to show no response to the fact that Anette had already stripped down to her underclothes, which were ivory to show off her pale skin. She was taking those off as he watched, and while he appreciated the view he couldn't help but think of what had happened when Saire had started showing off her body for him.

And in front of a dead mage. Had she no shame? And to think he was the one asking that. She was getting more and more determined of late. "Anette . . ."

"Don't you start with that, Hiezal. I've been bleeding for years. Most human girls would already have popped out two squalling babies by now. Most elf girls would've lost their virginity to any man they wanted over five years ago. Quit being such a prude."

"You're calling me a prude? Your mother-"

"Lost her virginity to you when she was five years younger than me, as I recall." She pouted. "You're always bragging about it."

Nova hesitated. "It was at least four. Closer to three. Anyway I don't brag about it to you, you little sneak."

Anette smirked, hopping up on the bed and sitting cross-legged. She probably realized exactly how that looked from his angle. "Suure. You realize I've seen you naked and hard before. Those tight breeches aren't leaving much to the imagination right now. Honestly I don't see what the big deal is. I've had larger things up m-"

"Going out to bury a corpse now!" Nova called, ducking out of the tent and staggering away as quickly as he could under Starworth's weight.

What was he waiting on, anyway? Anette was right that most elf girls gave it up to any non-relation they could find as quickly as they could manage it. Nova had been that non-relation for more trysts than he could count. And anyway he was one of the biggest bastards on Azeroth. He had sworn affidavits from just about everyone he knew to that effect. Was it his lingering feelings for Saire? The fact that being Anette's guardian complicated things? Who her father might be, probably was, and what that might mean if he was caught by him?

Was it Anette herself? He had a passing fondness for most of the lovers he bedded, and he certainly cared for their well-being in some fashion. But when it came to considerations like this the only thing he usually worried about was whether he wanted it and whether she wanted it too. So why, when Anette so clearly wanted it and the prospect of having another young Saire, except this time raven instead of red, had him ramrod hard and shivering at night, was he so squeamish? Did he care about her so much he couldn't even take a risk that wasn't a risk?

Maybe it was just the old wisdom of not shitting where you ate. And he had a lot of eating to do with Anette if he wanted to keep her alive in a world that wanted her dead through no fault of her own. He only wished he could think of that aphorism without images of her sitting cross-legged coming to mind. Not the shitting part, obviously. He wasn't that kinky.

But the eating . . .

. . . . .

Most of the continent of Northrend was elevated well above the North Sea, the coast an expanse of ridges rising hundreds of yards above the frigid breakers crashing into the cliffs below. On the northern coast, fronted by the regions mapmakers of the Northrend Campaign had labeled Icecrown Glacier and the Storm Peaks, those ridges rose to heights well above a thousand yards in most places, and along some stretches as high as a mile. As well, the air was so cold here that even in summer the waters north of the continent were permanently capped with ice, creating a forbidding lifeless expanse that no one had a reason to climb down to, even if they had wanted to brave the stark ledges and dagger-like ice shards.

Nova could be fairly certain they'd found what they were looking for just from the fact that the colossal plateau in front of them, separated from the mainland by a gulf miles wide, was the only notable feature they'd encountered so far. Its oddity was probably what had drawn the notice of the Alliance scouts in the first place and prompted them to go to the trouble of exploring it further.

That, or maybe the titanic glittering blue-white dome that capped a good three-fourths of the flat plateau, inside a circle of mountain peaks that cupped the dome like rocky fingers.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Anette, huddled to his chest in fright that was almost certainly staged, considering she could always encase herself in a block of ice if she happened to fall off the enchanted carpet Theril had loaned them, or blink to safety, or slowfall with one of the reagents carried in her belt pouch, peeked over her shoulder at the plateau. Then she turned and stared.

Definitely staged, the little stinker. She'd probably just been looking for an excuse to press herself against him and occasionally use turbulence as a reason to dry hump his leg in staged paroxysms of fright. Anyway if anyone had a reason to be nervous it was him, since Anette was the one controlling the contraption they rode on and had all the arcane bailouts, while he didn't have any safety from the nauseating drop below aside from a tiny backpack parachute given him by a gnome engineer, whose reassuring grin hadn't been in the least bit comforting.

"That's definitely titan work," she said. "I can see four streams of energy rising up to power it from below, probably pillars or obelisks within the compound. The only way to bring it down would be from within."

"Uldaman didn't have defenses anything like this," Nova mused.

"Uldaman didn't have an old god imprisoned in it." Anette turned and poked him someplace significantly lower than his chest. "But that's not a problem for you, since you're the expert on getting into titan complexes. Right Mr. Expert Archeologist?"

"Oh Ulduar's not going to be a problem," Nova said breezily. "I'm an old hand at titan facilities. I helped the Explorer's League excavate a place in the Badlands called Uldaman." Nova crinkled his nose. "Place was infested with troggs and stank to hell, at least until we broke through to where the titan defenses were still active and the earthen had no contact with the outside world."

"You helped dwarves excavate a site," Anette asked flatly. "You've always spoken of the dwarvish drive for archaeology with complete contempt."

"Well yeah. How would I know to do that if I didn't have firsthand experience? I was taught by the dwarven historian Gretel Delver herself at one point."

The tiny half elf glared at him. "How come I've never heard you talk about it then?"

"Nondisclosure agreement. Dwarves take that kind of thing quite seriously, while that's never been a fault of yours."

She pouted, sticking out her lower lip. Their faces were so close that the gesture almost made it touch his nose. "Are you saying you've been keeping your best stories from me because you were afraid I'd blab them around?"

Nova shrugged one shoulder. "Not really. Most of this happened about ten years ago, and really just kind of slipped my mind. We have been kind of busy assassinating all the people who want to kill us recently."

His tiny ward primly lifted herself, sweeping her waist-length hair out of the way so it wouldn't catch on anything, then delicately crab-walked around on his lap until they were nose to nose. They were also crotch to crotch, but he doubted that was deliberate. Or well, while he wouldn't have put it past Anette to do it intentionally, her main focus was obviously on the upcoming story. Eyes that seemed to fill up half her face stared into his point-blank. "All righty then. I'd say we've got another half hour or so to reach Ulduar. Spill it."

She might've been hanging onto his every word, but in that position he was having trouble focusing. For one thing her skin was always cool and dry, although in Northrend it was usually closer to cold, but she felt like a furnace down there. Long experience with the intimate regions of women told him that was normal, but it wasn't exactly a sensation he would've wanted to discover from his ward. Especially not while confined with her for hours on end on a 7'x4' carpet with nothing else to do. His physical response was inevitable, but surprisingly Anette didn't pounce on the matter and use it to her advantage like she usually would've.

Go figure, stories trumped horniness. "My first commission with the Explorer's League was in the Badlands. The name of Uldaman can be found in a lot of ancient dwarf texts as a significant place, but since they didn't have much knowledge of who they were or where they'd come from they didn't show much interest in heading back there. When you do hear of expeditions seeking Uldaman it's the usual "dwarf king adventuring to reclaim his lost ancestral kingdom and its treasure and splendor" type of record.

"Then when King Magni decreed that the focus of the clan would shift from its usual mining and smithing gig to archaeology they started sending teams out all over the world. I think they got so crazy about exploring the distant corners of Azeroth that they failed to consider that the early forgotten days of their race would probably offer them more insight to their history than some remote dig in a distant land. When they discovered Uldaman practically right on their doorstep I get the feeling the Explorer's League felt pretty chagrined."

"Probably," Anette said with a wise nod, bouncing up and down on his lap. Nonexistent gods, he wished she wouldn't do that. "It's amazing how often what you really want is right there in front of you." This time her bonce was more pointed. And much slower and more horizontal. "Isn't it?"

Nova took a shuddering breath. "Their excavation into the antechambers of the facility uncovered dwarves, except these dwarves called themselves earthen. They also found stone dwarves who also identified as earthen. There are ancient dwarf texts that talk of statues of living stone, but they'd assumed that was related to lost masterwork masonry of exceptional skill, rather than actual stone dwarves walking and talking. Anyway these earthen seemed to feel it was their duty to preserve the secrets of Uldaman and they repelled the dwarf archaeologists. Violently.

"And that's where I came in. They wanted me to go in and see if there was anything actually worth investigating before they, ah, insisted on being allowed entry. I had a reputation with several influential gnomes and Alliance leaders, and my name made its way to their ears."

"A reputation for nailing anything that moves?" Anette teased.

Nova shrugged guilelessly. "What can I say? I'm a lover, not a fighter."

She squealed with incredulous laughter. "What? On average you've killed one person a week for as long as I've been alive, Hiezal."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her ear. "Sweet Anette, haven't I taught you anything?" he whispered. "Whatever does killing have to do with it? Fighting is when the other person knows you're there and tries to kill you as hard as you're trying to kill him. I am anything but a fighter."

"You should really be more of a lover," she whispered into his ear in return, since her lips were conveniently situated there. Then she licked his lobe. Nova jerked his head back, glowering, and she laughed. "So what, you snuck in and explored around an entire titan facility without being caught by its guards?"

"Of course not. The dwarves who hired me probably expected me to do something like that, but I figured it would be easier to just go in and befriend them."

"Befriend them," she said flatly. "The territorial stone dwarves hell-bent on defending the domain of their titan masters."

"Well obviously you know Uldaman was a titan facility," Nova said. "Everyone does these days. But quit skipping ahead in the story. The thing was, the earthen care a lot about their secrets and defending their home, but they aren't actually violently hostile. When I approached them I made it clear I didn't give a damn about Uldaman, I just wanted to learn about them. And fuck a few of the stone ones."

She jerked in his lap, this time probably not to tease him. "You what?" she screeched.

"Well you know I like to try new things and consider myself somewhat of a sexual tourist, and at the time we hadn't yet found out that dwarves are basically devolved earthen-"

"Better not let them hear you putting it like that."

"-and so I'd basically just be screwing a mobile dwarf statue. No entirely new species after all." Nova shrugged. "Anyway I never managed to get with an earthen. Apparently earthen delineate themselves very carefully from dwarves when it comes to the Curse of Flesh, and they won't do anything dwarves do that's specific to the Curse of Flesh, like eating or drinking or fucking or shitting. They won't even wear anything that looks like hair, and no earthen will identify as male or female. They're fine with being referred to as "he" as a generic pronoun, but only if you don't attribute any sort of gender markings to it. I guess they figure the Curse is contagious, even if by their own claim no earthen had been struck with it for centuries. So when I hinted I might like to try getting my hands on his stones the earthen I propositioned nearly flattened me. And not in a good way."

"And you still managed to befriend the earthen and they let you in?"

"Kind of. I was allowed into their living spaces and traded news of the outside world for the history of their people. Which turned out to be really boring, since they're basically just dwarves that were too afraid to go out the front door. I learned more at night after they'd escort me to my sleeping chamber, when I'd slip out and sneak around. I found out the earthen had a huge complex of tunnels going every which way, doing some excavation of their own in search of titan structures or artifacts so they could restore and protect them. I also learned they were embroiled in a centuries-long war with troggs who, this information came along afterwards when we breached the archives, I learned were the first iteration of earthen, broken down in high stress environments to the hideous, vicious things they became. And that was before the Curse of Flesh made them even worse.

"But anyway the titans never threw anything away, not even failed experiments like the troggs. Instead they "stored" them away in their facilities. Then the titans disappeared for over ten thousand years, making it almost inevitable that the troggs would break free all over the damn place. I also found the entrance to Uldaman itself, sealed off by the titans and the key entrusted to the earthen. By doing some eavesdropping I learned that the key was in two pieces, one of which conveniently happened to be held by the troggs. But the theft of the key fragment is fairly new, and even before that the earthen wouldn't use it. Complete fence sitters, refusing to leave their antechamber and explore Azeroth like their more adventuresome dwarvish brothers had done at the beginning of dwarvish history, but also refusing to go into Uldaman's innermost depths and get some answers."

"So now that you knew there was something there, I bet the Explorer's League wanted in."

Nova nodded. "Dwarves are surprisingly big bastards when you get between them and their goal. Their archaeologists have been committing minor atrocities all over Azeroth. Sure, they don't go in for unnecessary violence, but they're all about the kind they say is necessary. So they engaged me to steal the key fragment held by the earthen, then had me show them a map of the facility, as best I could figure it being underground, and had me set them digging from above into the chambers held by the troggs.

"It basically led to all out war. While the Explorer's League fought their way through the troggs to get to the entrance to Uldaman the earthen discovered we'd stolen their key and were going after the other half and attacked the troggs with everything they had to get to us. Some even ventured aboveground to find the entry we'd dug and attack us from behind. One of the hairier situations I've been in, and we almost didn't make it to Uldaman's entrance. Luckily when we got there the earthen and troggs bottlenecked each other getting to us, and Delver, my historian employer and mentor, figured out how to combine the key and use it to get through the doors. At which point we slammed them behind us and breathed a sigh of relief at having an impenetrable barrier between us and the hornet's nest we'd stirred up."

Anette grinned wide. "Let me guess. Then you turned around and found the earthen who'd been trapped on the other side of the doors waiting for you."

Nova shrugged. "Pretty much. Along with some titan constructs and defenses. And when we got to the last room before the mother lode of titan technology and, more valuable to the dwarves, an information repository, along with quite a bit of wealth and valuable artifacts, we found it filled with inactive earthen and constructs that got pretty damn active when we showed up, and last of all we faced a big brute of a statue I could never figure out was an actual titan or some sort of minion left behind to safeguard the place or a construct. The dwarves probably know, but they didn't tell me much aside from what I was actually there with them discovering."

"And what did you discover?" Anette asked eagerly. If there was one thing his ward loved, it was obscure knowledge.

"Most of what I know is common knowledge in most civilized places now." Nova paused. "Not that they got it from me."

"Suuure."

"But we know that dwarves are earthen afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, earthen were created by titans to terraform worlds and work the deep places, troggs are the devolved cousins of dwarves who got the short end of the creation stick from the Makers, and as far as we know the titans are gone for good." He paused. "Oh, also we know the titans were aware of the existence of dwarves before they left, and judged dwarves to be an acceptable earthen variant worthy of genesis in their own right."

"That's kind of them," Anette said archly.

"It is. Titans have destroyed worlds for less."

Her eyebrows lowered, deep, deep brown eyes becoming like storms. "How do you know?"

He chuckled. "Let's just say from what I heard in Uldaman, the titans view their creations like we view ant farms. Except they're a lot more willing to incinerate everything and start over. Their archives outlined endless protocols for assessing acceptable parameters for a world and initiating re-origination." He inclined his head past her shoulder. "We're almost there."

Anette spun around on his lap and clapped her hands. "Can you feel the power coming off that dome?"

"No."

"Neither can I!" she exclaimed happily. "I can't wait to figure out how they're doing it."

The stark ring of mountains enclosing the dome appeared to have no entrance and scarce few landing spots, but Nova had heard that to the south were several terraces. He could see the beginnings of one from their vantage. As Anette guided the carpet around south to the front of the complex he saw an impossibly flat expanse paved with stones as wide as houses, faced by cliffs on three sides and with the other side dropping away to nothingness. There was a large mechanism there, a bank of machinery taller than his head connected to what looked like the beginnings of a bridge a hundred feet across.

It reminded him of the ethereal bridges he'd seen in Outland, and he was just as glad it wasn't active and he hadn't been coming by foot and forced to cross another path of solid light. Even if this path of the titans was wide enough for a company of heavy cavalry to ride abreast across it.

Each of the three cliff faces was perfectly flat and smooth, inscribed with complex swirling patterns that might have been writing. Occasionally a portion of the pattern glowed brilliant bluish-white for a moment before fading. In the center of each cliff face a pair of doors had been masterfully worked into the stone. The doors to either side were huge, easily twenty feet high and nearly that broad, but the doors at the back of the platform were mind-shatteringly huge. Easily five times the height of the other doors, and in this case half as wide to make them appear more majestic, they were made of some metal that made gold look like tarnished copper, and covered with even more writing, so dense and packed that even letters a foot high appeared cramped.

The titans could've written the entire history of Azeroth on such a tablet. Who knew, maybe they had.

"Wow," Anette said, steering them down to land not far from a huge camp that could've housed thousands, which looked small in the midst of that miles-wide expanse. It was mostly abandoned save for a few dwarves tinkering with tools and machinery, and another handful coming back from the direction of the bridge contraption. His ward stepped off the carpet with barely a wobble and staring almost straight upwards at the colossal doors with her feet spread and her hands on her hips. "This is literally the most majestic thing I've ever seen."

Nova hopped off the carpet and fell into his usual series of stretches, trying to stifle a groan Anette would've surely teased him for. "Yeah it's something."

His ward turned to stare at him, long inky black hair flipping out around her at the sudden move. "Oh, playing it all cool, huh? Like you've seen it all before. I guess this is all humdrum for someone who's been to Uldaman."

He snorted. "Uldaman is a titan outhouse compared to this place."

"That's more like it." With some effort Anette managed to flip her long tresses back into some semblance of order again. He'd probably want to encourage her to braid and loop it before they went in, although usually she managed it just fine. With a last openmouthed stare at the partially cracked doors in front of them his ward turned and snapped her fingers, uttering the command that made the carpet flip onto its side and roll up to fall conveniently in Nova's arms. He grunted at the weight, and she gave him an impatient look before heading towards the camp.

The handful of dwarves there looked up. "Stragglers?" one asked. "Yer Horde friends came in hours ago. And if you're from the Kirin Tor you're even later, since they've been here for days."

Anette bounced over and threw her arms around the dwarf, planting a kiss on his nose. "Hi!" she said. "Why's the camp so empty? Where is everyone?"

The dwarf, recovering from his surprise at her affectionate greeting, jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the barely open doors. "Inside already."

Nova dropped the carpet down beside the nearest tent and knuckled his back deliberately so Anette would appreciate just how hard the work had been. "Have you cleared out the courtyard already? I heard it was going to be a major operation."

"Cleared it?" The dwarf threw back his head and roared with laughter, and because Anette always laughed along she did the same, her girlish peals dancing around his deep rolling tones. "Cleared? Laddie ye best get inside. Yer expression is gonna be priceless."

"Not cleared, then?" Anette asked. She still had her arms wrapped around him, either not noticing or not caring about his uncomfortable fidgeting.

He awkwardly freed one arm enough to pat the top of her head. Anette butted against his large, calloused palm like a kitten. "Lassie, we're sitting on the doorstep, and our friends are still huddled just inside the doorway. And between us and the actual entrance?" He snorted. "Well, ye'll want to see it for yerself."