Thanks much for those who've sent messages, even if it was just to tease me about when the next chapter was coming out (Always every other Tuesday). Please enjoy the next one. (Still struggling with far flung future chapters and time management is a problem, but there is plenty of backlog ready to roll with a touch of editing beforehand) ~F
Chapter 144
Font of the Sun
Matthias Shaw had sweat pouring down his face. This rampaging demon simply wouldn't lie down and perish. Shaw wasn't familiar with every type of demon, but he was certain that even these Pit Lords weren't supposed to be this tough and resilient.
And yet there this Brutallus was, hammering away at the barriers of light that the Shattered Sun held, defiantly protecting the rest of them from the trampling hooves and swinging blades. "So much for a real challenge… Die!" he bellowed.
The beast raised both arms, preparing to shatter the light energy that kept them all safe from his attacks. From the corner of Shaw's eye, something flashed. He turned just in time to see a massive spike of wood come flying from the upper walls, to impale under the Pit Lord's arm.
"GAH!" Brutallus roared, slamming sideways with the momentum of the sudden attack. Green blood ran down his side, spurting with every beat of the monster's Fel heart.
The demon tried to rise, but clearly it was a mortal wound, and the Pit Lord slumped on his side, glaring at their forces with blazing eyes.
"Well done…" he muttered, blood mixing with the fire of his massive maw, "Now… this gets… interesting…"
And with those threatening last words, Brutallus died. Curiously, the body did not instantly start smoking and burning away. Instead, the body continued to gush Fel blood from its massive wound, pooling around its body and soaking into the ground.
"It's good that that monster has finally been put down," the Shattered Sun leader said. The Draenei seemed very pleased, "we should hurry onward, to linger will only give Kil'jaeden more time to complete whatever he's up to with the Sunwell."
The trouble was, no matter where Matthias looked, flames roared around them in a continual blaze, offering no means of pushing on without dealing with the blaze.
"We need mages down here to quell these flames," Shaw said, turning to look toward the wall where the Elven Regent Lord was with their ranged forces.
That was when he spotted the corpse of the blue dragon, flesh melting from the bones as the ground around it was filled with the demonic blood of Brutallus.
"What in the…" he started to say, when the corpse stirred.
"To arms!" Shaw yelled, even as the bones of the dragon, meat melting off in torrents, rose and releasing a bellowing roar.
"Glory to Kil'jaeden! Death to all who oppose!" the now-undead dragon cried.
Immediately it lifted into the air, unleashing a horrid blast of noxious fumes. The vapor layered over the area where the demon's corpse lay, causing it at last to burst into cinders and start to flake away into ash. But there was more, even as tiny skeletal arms burst their way out of the mass of smoldering flesh.
"Defend yourselves!" Shaw shouted, already throwing a small hand explosive into the nest of rising skeleton forms from the flesh of the Pit Lord.
It exploded with a shower of ashy flesh and bones from the many smaller skeletons, clearly foes that the demon had devoured. But even with the number destroyed from that, many more were still rising and charging down at their forces. Paladins took to the front, their heavy hammers and mastery of the light devastating to the mindless undead.
Meanwhile, a volley of projectiles assailed the dragon from those who had stayed in the protective cover of the wall section. "Choke on your final breath!" the dragon cried, exhaling more poisonous fumes over the battlements.
The explosion of holy magic that came in response assured Matthias that they would survive, if the golden domes that flashed to life as the green cloud settled over them.
"If we cannot get the beast back on the ground, it'll keep picking us off," Shaw said, turning to the Shiv, "any solutions?"
The goblin stroked his short beard, other hand firing a handheld pistol, "There might be something… if we still have some rockets…" he said, firing a shot into the skull of a charging skeleton.
The SI:7 leader turned quickly, checking the other agents with a quick, calculating eye. Of the half dozen members who had had rockets, half still had their launchers. "Three shots," he said, turning to watch as the dragon arced a lazy circle over them.
"The flesh seems weak all along the spine, so we could easily bring it down, at least for a time," Shaw surmised, gesturing at one of the launcher-bearing agents to take aim.
The female dwarf crouched with the launcher on her shoulder, and sent the rocket flying. It crashed into the dragon, just above the rear legs, and knocked her off course. The undead dragon veered sharply as it corrected itself, and landed with a crash, bellowing in outrage as it tore into their forces. "I kill for the master!"
Shaw swore as the dragon's claw started slashing at their melee fighters. He had focused on getting the beast back on the ground, to the point where he had forgotten about dealing with it once it was again.
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Nobu'tan knew that the void creature that had once been a Naaru was vulnerable now, but at the same time he was withholding as much of his power as possible. Knowing that it was highly possible that Kil'jaeden or another high ranking member of the Legion may be near, Nobu'tan had to be prepared to face them with as much Fel power as he could.
Still, coordinating his allies was significantly more difficult when he himself was not involved with the lion's share of the fighting. Still, he fed encouragement and spare magic into Blaise and Teg'Ramm, siphoning the void magic that was expelled from the fallen Naaru.
Meanwhile, Voldemort and Teron warded off the other void spawn that the entropic creature kept summoning as it bombarded them with dark energy. The Fel Elves were doing their best, blasting Felflame from all directions into the void entity.
Nobu'tan could sense that the creature was getting thoroughly filled with Fel energy, and the chaotic nature of the two types of magic would tear it apart from within. After that, it was just a battle of attrition, blasting off chunks of the void creature and defeating the manifestations thereof before they grew to numbers to be able to overwhelm them.
Speed and balance in their timing was required. Fracture off to much of the void being too quickly, they would quickly have more spawn on their hands than they wanted, but let up to much, and the entropic creature would switch to attacking them with pure shadow magic rather than summon more spawn.
For his part, Nobu'tan just redirected energy already present in the room, rather than tapping into his reserves. Shadow magic couldn't be used for much as a warlock, but he did what he could, sending bolts flying across the room into the spawn the appeared regularly, adding minor amounts of death magic where he felt needed to leech vitality to a nearby ally.
Occasionally he would also grab an amount needed to cause a stunning explosion of power, generally temporarily shutting down a newly arrived group of the tentacle creatures for the moment needed for one of the Death Knights to finish off what they were already fighting.
It was a long struggle, but in the end, their close-knit teamwork and relentless strategy won out. The creature shrank, minutely at first, but soon was a mere wisp of shadow compared to its original form. At the same time, its form ceased to be large enough to absorb the energy thrown at it, and the blasts of Fel and bolts of chaos started to tear chunks of its physical form from it.
By then, it was all too simple. The weakened creature that was once a glorious crystal of the Light imploded upon itself, its own void consuming it in its relentless pull. A glittering gem clattered to the ground as the shadows dissipated, dark purple to the point of near-black.
"Bring that shard to me," Nobu'tan said, sensing the conflicting energies roiling within it. Fel, Light, and Void rolled around in a strange, yet seemingly perfect, balance. As one of the Felblood presented it to him, Nobu'tan could sense the untapped potential of such a jewel, and stowed it deep in his robes, already thinking of various things that could be done with the magic stored within.
Without the fallen naaru, the barrier preventing them from accessing the rest of the building collapsed. At the same time, it released a torrent of latent Fel magic, all wafting from below.
The corridor spiraled downward with large arches forming windows with precious cloth, like veils carefully draped over them. It was interesting, Nobu'tan observed, that the décor had been preserved after so many years, and apparently the undead ravaging through this place at least once, and the demons of the Legion, had not toughed or destroyed it whatsoever.
Still, it was what was past the archways, down in the central chamber of the building that truly was a sight to behold.
"So that's the Sunwell…" he breathed, eyes slowly adjusting to the light that radiated up from the golden pool.
The magical present of the pool was clearly less than that of the Well of Eternity, but its beauty was something that would not be rivaled. The Elves clearly had cared for it over the years, and even in its diminished state it was still a wonder.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the Legion wished to make use of that pool of defiled arcane magic. Eredar sorcerers were surrounding the font of magic, pouring pure Fel into waters already polluted by necromantic energies. Luckily there was no sight or presence of a lord of the Legion, and therefore they may have arrived in time to prevent whoever was to command this force from arriving ahead of the next wave of forces.
"We need to get down there and fast," Nobu'tan instructed, directing those of the Dark Horde to tear through the Fel Reavers that were guarding the final ramp down to the level where the Well awaited them.
He was about to lead the way into the chamber, when he froze. A voice sounded from within the depths of the Sunwell, a very familiar voice that resonated power and the promise of swift punishment. "All my plans have led to this!" Kil'jaeden the Deceiver declared. Nobu'tan huffed, the Eredar was already gloating even though his plan had yet come to fruition.
Gesturing with his hands, he ordered the Felblood to scatter around the room, targeting the channeling warlocks while his own force stayed nearby, shielding him from where the Legion lord would appear if they still managed to at least partially summon him. "Stay on task!" Kil'jaeden said, still blind to the Dark Horde's presence, "Do not waste time!"
Waving his protectors away from surrounding him, Nobu'tan stepped forward, clearing his throat, "My Lord Kil'jaeden, I have arrived, as commanded…" he cried, earning collective sharp looks and spikes of fear from his allies.
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Thrall was not sure what he felt from Jaina at this time. The meeting was out of the ordinary, that was true, but Thrall had to think of the security of Orgrimmar. The Cult of the Damned was moving in the shadows, and under the advisement of many of those in his inner circle, Thrall had chosen to continue to appear oblivious to the goings on of his city. But it seemed that something more taxing that even the activity of the Lich King pressed Jaina's mind, and he thought he may have a good guess as to what.
The fact that his advisors told him to exclude even Garrosh from these secretive matters weighed heavily on him, to the point where it pained him to even be in the presence of the young orc, but the Shadow Hunters believed that the Dark Horde's agents were manipulating the young Mag'har, and knowingly or not, that could prove dangerous to the safety of the entire Horde.
This same kind of sickening weight was apparent in the lines of Jaina's face. Thrall reached out, and took the Sorceress hands. They were cold, and there was the faintest quiver of trembling. "Jaina?" he asked in a whisper, his concern turning into worry.
She turned her head away, pulling her hand back. Was that shame in her face that Thrall saw? "I'm fine Thrall, it's nothing." She said, icy walls going up over her emotions once more. The orc Warchief had seen this many times before, usually whenever Jaina felt vulnerable, or the troubling events of Admiral Proudmoore's death came up.
"All right," he replied, letting the matter go, as he had before. There was nothing he could do, and he hoped that eventually someone found a way to breach the defenses that Jaina had woven around herself, and bring her out of the sorrows that beset her.
"It is troubling that necromancers are on the move, so soon after Naxxramus was defeated…" she said, already musing on the main topic at hand, "I'll have to see if Varian has heard anything from SI:7 regarding their presence in Stormwind."
"I hate to think that, as soon as we defeat the Legion, the dead rise up a third time to try and destroy us." Thrall said, partially concealing his exasperation at the situation. Was it too much to ask for a period of peace, so that all factions could recover from constant war and conflict?
"We will do what we must. If what has been accomplished so far is any indication, I believe that both the Horde and the Alliance may begin to see a road to peace, even union between them against these common threats." Jaina said.
"Do those common threats include the Dark Horde?" Thrall asked carefully, watching the Sorceress for a reaction.
He wasn't disappointed to see the momentary flinch at the mention of the other Horde. "I trust that all three factions may join forces more often, but there are rumblings within the Alliance that there will be some manner of demands brought to the Dark Horde, especially regarding their crimes against the dwarves…"
"You mean the Dark Irons," Thrall countered, before lifting his hands, "I know it's not my place to judge, but even if their Empress is a Bronzebeard, it is not the Alliance's war to fight."
"I don't understand it much more than you do," Jaina admitted, "but they are dead set on this course. To stand by their allies, and at least seek justice, rather than the revenge that the Empress desires."
"The Dark Horde will not take kindly to any threats, and you and I both know that dwarves have tempers, Dark Irons even more than the others." Thrall said cautiously.
"That, I can agree with you, but only behind closed doors," Jaina replied. "But enough about that future train wreck, what should we do about the likely undead attack on the heels of this current matter in Quel'thalas."
Thrall hummed in thought, leaning back and swirling his drink. "I don't see any way around the inevitable counterassault that would result if Northrend attacks the factions again. Alliance, Horde and Dark Horde will want a piece of Arthas, most already have cause to hate the Scourge…"
"So do we prepare for the fallout, and hit them harder than they expect?" Jaina asked, already wrinkling her nose, heightening the shadows under her hood.
"Unless we want innocent to be in even more danger when the attack happens, I see no other choice." Thrall affirmed, "but we must keep it quiet. One whisper of our plans to the necromancers, and it'll make everything pointless."
"Who passes word on to the Dark Horde?" Jaina asked, and Thrall looked at her, questioning the fact that she thought there was anyone better suited to get word to Nobu'tan then she herself.
She sighed, "Of course, I'll inform then through those in Stormwind…"
She started to rise, but Thrall took her hand again, preventing her from leaving. Her hand was frigid, and if Thrall didn't know better, he'd have thought she was casting magic to lower her body temperature, "Take care of yourself Jaina," he said quietly, "The thought of losing you is unbearable."
"I…" Jaina started, but she stopped at the dead seriousness in Thrall's eyes, "I will." She said, and Thrall saw the determination in her eyes.
And quickly, the Sorceress took her leave, earning no glances from the other patrons through her disguise.
Thrall remained a while, already planning the defenses and armaments that needed to be commissioned if they were to be ready as soon as possible. It would be a logistical nightmare to try and keep this secret, but he had a few thoughts of the best candidates to start this grand work. Gazlowe would happily take any work for the Horde if the price was right, even if he had to work in Thunder Bluff instead of Orgrimmar.
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Lor'themar cursed as the dragon passed over the battlements again, raining corrosive fumes down on them. Once the beast had been brought down, the ground force had quickly pounced upon it, but the beast quickly withdrew to the air as soon as it had the opportunity, even if it was far worse for wear.
Meanwhile, the spell casters and other ranged fighters were running low on energy and ammunition on the wall, and that poised a greater problem. Even if they felled the dragon, they wouldn't be able to quickly press on without resupply.
Still, if they could remove the dragon and the flames covering their path forward and behind, they could easily call forward reinforcements with all the assets they needed. The dragon circled once more, continued to generate more skeletons out of the quickly disappearing flesh of the Pitlord, trying to overwhelm the ground forces through sheer attrition.
"What are they waiting for;" the Regent Lord said angrily, "bring the blasted dragon down again so we can finish it off!"
"They have limited rockets, and the Dragon is wary of the tactic." A nearby Farstrider said.
"Then we should give the dragon something else to think about," Lor'themar said sternly, quickly checking what they had left to throw at the flying husk.
Arrows, short-range explosives, and spells from casters with near-depleted mana were about all that was left. They could chuck more rubble, but the Elf knew that the dragon was moving too fast to allow that to hit it as it had the Pit Lord.
"Give me one of those," the former Ranger General said, demanding an explosive from the nearest Alliance warrior.
The older human did not hesitate, probably remembering the skill of the High Elves of old when they had been full allies of the Alliance. Quickly, Lor'themar tied the round explosive deftly to the arrow, and tested the combined weight.
A normal archer wouldn't have easily been able to fire such a thing far enough to hit the dragon, but Lor'themar was Ranger General after the death of Sylvanas Windrunner for a reason.
Taking aim, the Regent of Silvermoon braced himself against the parapet, and took aim. The dragon's circles were tightening, probably as it prepared to dive-bomb the ground and breath fumes and toxins over the ground forces. Adjusting quickly, Lor'themar placed a foot on the rubble wall and heaved the bowstring back a bit further, and fired.
The short rope went taught, dragging the explosive along with the course of the arrow. The arrowhead dug deeply into the front left leg of the dragon, the handheld explosive spiraling around the rotten meat of the limb, even as it detonated from the jarring effect of impact.
The forelimb was blasted clean off, sending the dragon into a down spiral, and knocking it well off course from strafing the entire ground force with its breath. The beast slammed into the ground far past the Pit Lord's corpse, rolling heavily into the flames, and kicking up a torrent of dust and magic, extinguishing much of the flames that were blocking their advance.
That was at least one issue taken care of. The fact that the dragon was still kicking was yet another, but with all the Alliance and Shattered Sun forces already charging the creature as it struggled with the lack of balance from the loss of its limb.
"I am stronger than ever before!" the dragon cried, wheeling around and trying to lash out with its tail.
Its attempt at intimidation was quickly shattered as one of the foot soldiers fired another explosive from the ground, the devastating ordinance blowing the tail from the body, and keeping the dragon from trying to flap its wings and take to the sky again.
Between the might of the Shattered Sun Paladins, and SI:7's cunning, the dragon was more or less defeated. The final missile tore away a wing, preventing the creature from ever taking flight again.
"Kil'jaeden… will… prevail…" the dragon cried mournfully, even as the blades and magic of the ground forces finally ended the undead's existence.
A shadow swooped over them, even as another Blue Dragon, the one that they had saved earlier from a Dreadlord, and breathed a steady flow of ice and snow onto the rest of the flames, extinguishing them and opening the pathways in all direction from this place. "Madrigosa deserved a far better fate," the dragon said sorrowfully, "You did what had to be done, but this battle is far from over."
Even as the dragon flew away, it spoke once more, and the words shook Lor'themar, "Hurry mortals, the Dark Horde have already confronted the Deceiver, and will need assistance to prevent the demon from entering your world through the Sunwell."
The Regent Lord of Quel'thalas wasn't sure what filled him with more dread, that one of the highest ranking leaders of the Legion was trying to force his way into their world personally, or that the Dark Horde and their warlocks were the ones waiting to greet the demon.
Whether they were here to fight or help the Legion was the more pressing concern, and Lor'themar looked down to see how Shaw would react to the same news. Clearly from the Alliance forces already forming up to press forward, he was of the same mind as the Blood Elf leader, that they needed to make sure that the Dark Horde was not numbering among their enemies.
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Voldemort couldn't help but feel appalled at the loss of their element of surprise on these Eredar summoners, even as Nobu'tan strutted forward, holding out his arms welcomingly to the hideous face in the pool of golden liquid.
The visage of Kil'jaeden, current Lord of the Legion, shifted his Fel-green eyes to gaze at the warlock, face remaining neutral as he studied the part human part demon. "You are Nobu'tan, heir of Gul'dan and leader of the Dark Horde…" he said, not a question but a statement of fact, "I take it that Kael'thas has failed like the fool he is, if the Felblood slaves now follow you…"
"He has," Nobu'tan replied, his words clipped and pointed, the warlock waiting for the orders that the demonlord was going to give him next.
"Unfortunate… there was great potential that the Legion could have made use of with that one…" the demon replied, almost bored at the confirmation. "You will have to do, as the last truly loyal servant of the Legion present. Assist these weaklings to open the portal. I have waited long enough to enter this world at last. Know that if you fail me, you and all these present will suffer for eternity…"
Nobu'tan seemed to consider the command, and nodded slowly, "What do you wish of me…" he asked, stepping forward once again and peering down into the pool of pure magical power.
"Drain the girl!" Kil'jaeden ordered, eyes flickering to the feminine figure hovering over the pool, held in place by the magic of the Eredar on all sides of the Sunwell, "Drain her power until there is nothing but a vacant shell, then there will magic enough to usher me into your world."
"I see," Nobu'tan said, starting to lift his arms. If Voldemort hadn't been more than sure that the others would have struck Nobu'tan down themselves if he was planning to betray them, he might have thought that the warlock would be betraying this world as well. But knowing that the young man had already burned one planet just to get back here, and had suffered much because of the Legion, there was no surprise when suddenly Nobu'tan dropped his arms and spoke again, colder and full of repressed rage. "But first tell me… what exactly happened to Gul'dan?"
"This is not important, fulfill your duty to the Legion, and all knowledge you desire will be given to you…" Kil'jaeden retorted, annoyed and dismissive, but Nobu'tan shook his head.
"I cannot help but have some reservations, knowing that Gul'dan was slain by demons of the Burning Legion, rather than any Alliance or Horde forces so long ago… Tell me… tell me now." Nobu'tan insisted, still lowering his arms slowly.
"You insolent mortal. Do as I command, or you will suffer…" Kil'jaeden barked.
"I think not," Nobu'tan shot back, lifting his head in defiance. "You and your deals fall upon deafened ears to what you can pretend to promise. I know that Gul'dan was murdered, betrayed for seeking power that he wanted for purposes other than what you had commanded. Is that how you treat those that had so willingly served for as many years as he had? And while my master was known as Darkness Incarnate through your power… because of my rage and hatred for you and your kind, I am Vengeance Incarnate, and I will not be denied… slay the summoners!"
Fel and flame surged from the warlock's hands, striking the two nearest Eredar. They were incinerated by the sheer magnitude of power, even as Teron and Voldemort darted around the fiery pool, hacking down the rest of the demonic warlocks. Despite their haste, it seemed that as each died, the magic sustaining their life-force was dragged into the pool, strengthening the portal rather than weakening it.
The Felblood elves struck as well, leveling magic at the entrance of the Sunwell's immediate area, even as a flood of demons tried to enter and defend their prize.
But the demon lord seemed to be undaunted by even the loss of his servants. "The expendable have perished," he said scathingly, and from beyond the shimmering window he drew forth a jewel encrusted scepter, which blazed with pure Nether power, "So be it!" Kil'jaeden shouted, as the scepter flared in power. The crimson, winged demon them reached forth a hand, and pierced the surface of the water, entering their world and grasping the edge of the Sunwell, pulling himself halfway out of the magical pool, "Now I shall succeed where Sargaras could not! I will bleed this wretched world and secure my place as the true master of the Burning Legion. The end has come! Let the unraveling of this world commence!"
"You are not alone Dark Horde," a new voice said from the overlooking arches. A figure leapt into the open air and transformed, swelling into a fully grown Blue Dragon. "The Blue Dragonflight shall help you vanquish the Deciever!" he continued, harassing Kil'jaeden with a breath of arcane power as he circled the chamber once, before calling to the trapped female figure hovering well over the Well. "Anveena, you must awaken, this world needs you!"
Feebly, the woman responded, trance-like monotone still audible over the roars of the dragon and the demon, "I serve only the master now."
"This world shall fall!" Kil'jaeden bellowed, immense amounts of Fel magic flooding upward from the Sunwell for the demon to use, and the scepter in his hand acting like a sponge to soak all of it into itself, even as the towering demon slashed a clawed hand toward Nobu'tan.
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Narcissa was walking through the Trade District with Aurora, enjoying the sounds and smells of the shopping center of the city, when the Pureblood witch sensed something out of place. They had just been looking over a baker's stall, the littlest Malfoy sampling a fresh piece generously offered by the proprietor, when a figure passed behind them both, and Narcissa caught a whiff of very dark magic.
She turned, slowly, to watch the cloaked figure disappear into a small alleyway, and marked the scent of the magic she had felt. There had been another time, recently, that she had sensed that level of necromantic power, and she did not like where that line of thought was leading her.
Nevertheless, she made no stir as she returned to the baker and thanked him, paid for a dozen of the same loaves that Aurora had so enjoyed, and departed. She did nothing to put suspicion of what was going on in her daughter's mind, but they did return to their own home as swiftly as possible.
"Draco, Lucius," she called as she entered, letting Aurora run into the house to play with her toys.
Only Draco appeared as Narcissa banished the bread into the kitchen, "Father is not here."
"He didn't return from shepherding Garona and Med'an out of the city?" Narcissa asked, suddenly very worried. That had been hours ago. She expected that he would have been back while she went out for a walk with Aurora. "Where could he have gone?"
Draco closed his eyes. Narcissa recognized the small flare of Fel magic as her son conjuring an eye to remotely view the city as a whole, and narrow down traces of her husband's magic quickly.
"SI:7 Headquarters…" he said, after a short silence, "but why would he be there?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," Narcissa said, her eyes already narrowing. "Watch your sister," she said, turning and taking up her cloak once more.
Marching through the canals, Narcissa momentarily banished thoughts of the necromantic magic she had sensed from her mind, so focused was she on reaching Old Town and the open secret location of Stormwind Intelligence.
Footmen, out on patrol, leapt to the side to avoid colliding with her as she made her way into the district of the oldest families in Stormwind. Reaching the very end, just to be safe, Narcissa drew her wand, but kept it out of sight as she mounted the steps to the walled area that separated the facility from the rest of the city.
A guard finally dared to impede her progress, the leather-clad agent glancing warily at his comrade. "What is your business here, Lady Malfoy?" the man asked, and Narcissa was unsurprised that her name was known even here.
"I am here to collect my husband, and you will stand aside… now…" she replied icily, her words stabbing as she punctuated every one of them with tempered steel. She drew herself up as a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ought to, and allowed her blue eyes to bore into the man, compelling him to back down or suffer the consequences.
Without another word, sensing that the man and his companion, while effective enough on their operations and missions, had no experience with an irate wife, she swept past them and entered the facility, following the traces of her husband's magic.
Only when she was certain that she was a room or two away did more agents step in her way, led by an older man with dark hair and sharp eyes. "I'm sorry Lady Malfoy," he said placing a hand on each hip, where the witch could see daggers hidden from plain view, "I cannot allow you to enter any further. You husband is under questioning."
"Under what charges have you seized him?" Narcissa demanded, "What legal representation does he have?"
"Sedition, Treason, aiding enemies of the Alliance," the man listed out, "and legal representation is only provided to those who cannot afford it. Your husband has declined to pay for such a thing, and therefore no one has been summoned."
Narcissa could tell that was a lie. No option of counsel had been offered whatsoever. It didn't take a legilimens to see the smugness on the man's face as he spoke of the charges against Lucius. Shaw had been looking for any reason to have a problem with those who had come from earth, because of their ties to the Dark Horde.
"You have no proof of his guilt in any of these matters," she said, perhaps guessing at the fact, but she had her suspicions. If SI:7 had proof, they wouldn't be trying to squeeze Lucius for information. They would have gone straight to King Varian and forced him to punish Lucius and all of their people.
"He was seen with two unknown figures, who disappeared by portal magic before they could be apprehended. Lord Malfoy will not speak, and therefore we must keep him until we know who those people were, and where they were going." The man replied, enjoying every moment.
The icy stare of the House of Black was all he got in return. Narcissa's family was strong even on their world. But here, with all the ambient magic just waiting to be used, her aura sang. The stones of the building started to quake with her frozen rage. "You will release my husband, now…" she said quietly, but even the veteran assassin before her flinched as though she had been screaming like Bellatrix.
The door behind the agents burst open, revealing their methods of interrogation. Lucius was bound to a chair, and his robes were torn in several places. His face was bloodied, but it seemed that they hadn't had very long to brutalize him before Narcissa had interrupted.
"Why, when there are necromancers walking the streets of your city, are you wasting the time of our family and yourselves over trivial matters?" Narcissa seethed, even as her magic answered her demands, melting away the bonds keeping her husband from her, and he quickly wasted no time extricating himself from the chamber and joining her out in the main chamber.
"My love, if we cause too much trouble here, it will echo problems for Aurora," he said, taking her by the hand and soothing the frozen wrath that had been awakened.
"Master Agent Osborne," Lucius added, turning toward the man who had dared prevent Narcissa from liberating her husband sooner, "Your hospitality leaves much to be desired, and I am sure that there will be many eager to know exactly what transpires when SI:7 wishes to create a threat to the Alliance where one does not exist."
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Lucius quickly removed his wife from the area of SI:7's Headquarters. He had not betrayed the identity of Garona or her son, nor their current location, and he was eager to spin the circumstances for Varian so that they would end up on top of this matter. The fact that Matthias Shaw and his right hand goblin were both taking care of other matters only played to their advantage.
"We should hurry to the Keep," he said as soon as he felt they were out of earshot. Thankfully, the peoples of Stormwind still barely understood the meaning of the wizard's wooden wands and their magic, and had left Lucius' tools and other items on his person, so convinced that they had the matter under control.
"There is more that you are not aware of," Narcissa added in a hushed whisper, although she clearly struggled to keep her voice lowered. The anger that roared through his wife was… intoxicating. Lucius had had his eye on Narcissa long before his father had even considered approaching the House of Black for a betrothal.
The fiery temper, so rampaging in her older sister, and so muted in Andromedia had been especially curious to him in the youngest Black sister. Narcissa's emotions burned cold, but they burned long, and it aroused into a passionate display, it was something magnificent to behold. Momentarily, Lucius considered the notion of a little brother or sister for Aurora, but a sharp glance from Narcissa silenced the thoughts.
"Necromancers are here, in Stormwind, and they are increasing in activity. Something feels wrong in the air, and I am afraid that the city may be attacked again like before."
That acted as a cold blanket over any thoughts of romance. "Are you sure?" Lucius said, "where is Aurora?"
"Draco has her; they are at the house, safe." Narcissa affirmed, steering them out of the northern exit of Old Town, closest to the Keep. "But the King must be warned."
Narcissa led the way, the guards at the base of the keep literally leaping out of the way as she approached, her reputation already known here in force.
But they were not the only one nearly running up the steps. "Lady Proudmoore?" Lucius said, spotting the Sorceress even through the plain disguise she wore.
