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The Murloc is Lonely :: Book One

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The Murloc is Lonely
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V

Now, you have to understand the effect of saying “Welcome to the Argent Dawn” has on someone. It would be sort of like closing your eyes, and then opening them, and having someone say “Welcome to the moon!” when you quite clearly hadn’t gone anywhere. The Argent Dawn was an army of the light, formed more than six hundred years ago, to combat undead evil in the northlands. It had performed its duty, at first quietly, and then crescendoing, enlisting volunteers and mercenaries from every race and nation in the world. Evil couldn’t boast those kinds of numbers, and eventually, and spectacularly, the Dawn prevailed. (How long “eventually” took I didn’t know; my Eastern History had never been that sharp. But it wasn’t quick, or easy, and there were rumors and rumors of evil things stirring in the northlands, always.) The idea of building an army of people from all the nations of the world, who all hated each other, was apparently too unstable to survive, and the Dawn had fragmented and faded from view. Since then, it had become a symbol of lost glory, used by politicians and demagogues to invoke the names of Good and Power, the ideals of cooperation towards a common goal. It was a powerful symbol, but it had been nothing but a dusty symbol for hundreds of years.

In the intervening centuries, racial tensions had given way to splintered kingdoms, city-states too busy or lazy to be proud of their heritage. It might have been a good thing that a tauren walking around Storm City wasn’t given a second glance, but it certainly didn’t feel as glorious as the Good Old Days had sounded. That’s the way with good old days, though, I often though: you remember the power and the glory, but not the race wars and the vicious hatred. I had never made up my mind if peace was better, or if pride was. I had never made up my mind, but I had certainly voted, I thought: I had run away from my people, a decade ago, a fact of which I thought rarely and talked about less. When I thought about it, though, it wasn’t something I was proud of.

* * *

The heavy doors swung open in front of Fang. On the other side of the stone archway, I could see a vast, red, round amphitheater room. The floor was flat and covered in thick red carpet, and at a distance, a curved wall rose up to eye level. Above and behind the wall was seating, and the first two rows were filled. Women and men, humans, primarily, but orcs and goblins and gnomes and dwarves as well, all dressed regally. I followed Fang slowly into the center of the grand room – the ceiling was the great glass dome I had seen from outside – and the seated aristocracy, or royalty, or whatever they were, sat in a full circle around the lower section I stood in with the Tooth. I felt like I’d been cast into a gladiatorial arena. I turned around to look at everyone. There were even a few trolls about, several pale elves, and a pair of naga, sitting to my left. To the right, almost all the way around the seats to where I came in, sat a single man-sized, black, glittering spider.

“Fang Tooth of the Murlocs and of Storm City, whom do you present to the Dawn?” said a voice behind me. I turned back around, and, standing opposite the door was a tall, thin human, wearing a black robe and black hood. The hood came down over his pale forehead, and ended just above his glowing, yellow eyes. His face was bone white and gaunt. He held a simple, silver scepter. To put it simply, he gave me the creeps.

Fang glanced up at me, and responded to the pale human. He spoke loudly and clearly. “This tauren’s name is Crazy Horse, and he calls nowhere his home." I'd never quite thought of it that way before. "He lives in Storm City, and has shown me his willingness to help me in my time of need.”

There was muttering around the auditorium. “Ye did twist his arm a bit,” said a familiar voice. I looked to my left, where the dwarf from the Panda Pub was seated. I hadn’t recognized him immediately. I smiled and made to wave, relieved to see a familiar face of any kind, but Fang put a clammy fin on my arm.

“Do you trust him?” said the man in the black robe.

“No,” said Fang. I looked down at him in alarm. So did the rest of the auditorium. “But he has not yet given me any reason to actively distrust him. I continue to test him, and I believe that he will be found trust-worthy.”

The angry murmuring rose again, and I heard some loud hissing behind me. I didn’t turn around to see whether it was the naga or the spider.

“You test his trust with the existence of our order,” said the man in black. “Quite a risk.”

“I know quite well what I’m risking,” said the Murloc icily.

“You’d better,” said one of the orcs. The man in black bowed his head to Fang, though, and said, “Of course, we know to trust your judgment.” There was no sarcasm in his voice.

He sat down. “Thank you for bringing Crazy Horse of No Kingdom before us,” he said.

Fang bowed to the man, then turned to me and said, with his voice lowered, “Stay here. Don’t speak until you are spoken to. Don’t go until you are dismissed.” He grabbed my arm again, with his clammy fin. “Don’t ask any questions,” he hissed. Then he walked back out the door, leaving me alone and defenseless in the arena.

“So, Fang Tooth believes that this tauren is the man for the job,” said one of the blood elves, behind me. I turned to look. He was dressed in green velvet robes. “I don’t question his judgment, but perhaps we are right to question him about this decision.”

“Not with Horse here,” said Fang, having come back in by a door above in the seating. He sat down. “But, he is certainly the bull for the job.” The elf muttered something I didn’t catch. The elves seated around him muttered as well.

“Have you told him anything about the job?” said the orc who had spoken previously.

I grunted. Inside, I had screamed, “No!” at the top of my lungs, and then hurled invectives at Fang until my nose turned blue. Then I had suppressed the whole urge, and all that made it out was a little grunt. No one noticed.

“No,” said Fang. I ground my teeth. “There are people here that can explain it better than I can.” Fang looked directly at me as he said it, and there was a twinkle in his red eyes that made his words ring of irony, though of what sort I wasn’t sure.

The man in the black robe stood up again. He was still holding his silver scepter. “If there are no objections?”

“None that will be heard with the tauren present,” said the blood elf, and his compatriots muttered in agreement.

“Very well,” said the man in black heavily. “Crazy Horse,” he turned and spoke directly to me for the first time. Fang had told me not to speak until I was spoken to; now, technically, I could say what I wanted. For some reason, I didn’t. “You have been selected by a Murloc to serve an organization you did not know existed. We would rather have a known quantity to work with, but most of us trust that Fang had reasons to choose you. He is a trusted member of this order,” he said pointedly, at the elves, who had begun to mutter again. “Crazy Horse, we need you to travel north, across the known lands, across the shallow sea and into the north continent.” I paled a little. “There is a book which we require, and it is believed to survive somewhere in the ancient city of Lordaeron.” I nodded. “Fang will fill you in on the details before you leave.” He looked at the Murloc. “I assume that you will not be going alone, but I am personally comfortable with leaving it up to Fang to decide who will accompany you.”

The elves behind me exploded. “The Dawn does not recognize Fang as its sole decision-maker!” said one of them, to the right of the one in velvet, heatedly. “Is whoever is accompanying this tauren,” and it was spoken with scorn, “to Lordaeron, on sensitive business of the Argent Dawn, known to you? Or were you planning on picking someone off the streets of Storm City tonight on your way out?”

“I’m sending him with Katy M, who is well known to this body,” said Fang. There were murmurs from around the hall.

“The Druid,” said the elf, with deep respect. He sat down. “Please continue.”

I can do druid things, I wanted to say. Watch me, I can turn into a horse! But Fang was looking at me, and he shook his head slightly.

“Crazy Horse,” said the nameless man in black, “We of course have to hear it from yourself and yourself alone. You are sworn to secrecy, and we will not pretend that it will be easy. Are you willing to perform this service for the Argent Dawn?”

For lack of a better thing to do, I nodded.

“Do you have any questions for the Dawn?” said the nameless man in black.

I looked up at Fang, who held my eyes.  “No,” I said.

“Horse,” said Fang. “You are dismissed.”

* * *

I walked to the double door through which I had come, seeming hours ago, and pushed them open. Katy M was waiting for me in the hallway. “Hello,” she growled. There was a little bit of a smile on her face, and I was sure she knew what I just been through.

“Who?” I exploded. “Why? What book? We’re going, alone, to the northern continent? Nobody lives there. Nobody goes there!” I quivered with bottled emotions, only one of which was anger.

“Patience,” said the other, and the small, ironic smile was playing on her face again. I felt a muscle twitch at the edge of my left eye. “Follow me. Quietly.” With no further ceremony, or communication, we returned to the carved stone room with the beds and my bags. A huge plate of roast quail was on the desk, still hot, and I remembered how hungry I was. With no ceremony, I dug in. When I looked up, sated, minutes later, M had disappeared.

I sat down on the green bed, and reached up and over to the dangling light bulb.  I pulled the cord, and the room immediately plunged into pitch, heart of the mountain blackness.  I lay back, and pulled the quilt over me, and settled into the too-short, too-hard bed.  It wasn’t comfortable, but it was more comfortable than I needed.  I fell into a deep, pitch-black sleep.

* * *

I don’t quite know how long I slept for, but I woke up some hours later.  There was a dim glow coming from across the room, and I sat up groggily.  Fang Tooth was sitting at the desk, again, with piles upon piles of paper, scratching away at one of them with his pen.

“Hi,” I said, by way of letting him know I was awake.  The glow was coming from a little bauble that was sitting next to him on the desk.  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“No reason to wake you,” said the Murloc, without turning around.  “Not the least tiring experience you’ve ever had, I bet.”

“No kidding,” I said.  Stupid amphibian.  Are you my best friend again, or are you buttering me up for another “just trust me” trip through the ringer?  I was feeling grumpy.  It must not have been that good a sleep.

“No questions?” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me.  His face fell into shadow, and the one eye that he had turned towards me glinted slightly in the dark.  “I was certain you’d have questions.”

“Millions,” I growled.  “I couldn’t decide what to ask first.”  I was waking up.

“Alright,” said Fang, “then I’ll give you an answer unasked.  Yes, that was the real Argent Dawn.  After the Old Scourge was defeated, many of its members thought it had served its purpose, and dissipated.  The order’s leadership, though, knew that the magic of the Scourge was not something that could be destroyed, only dissipated.  Having been created, it was an insoluble toxic waste that would continue to poison the lands where it had accumulated, essentially forever.  Even with no guiding will behind it, the evil that was the scourge has lived on, twisting everything that grows in the North, making it evil and unfit for civilization.”

I nodded slowly.  “That explains why Lordaeron is a dead continent.”  I stopped nodding, and shook my head.  “Forever?  The world is going to have a big, evil continent, forever?”

“Two of them,” said Fang.

“Two continents?  Lordaeron and who?”

Fang shook his head and was silent, as though he had said too much.  He hissed to himself for a beat, and then began talking again.  “More recently we have seeking ways to break down this evil, but experiments are proceeding slowly at best.  For the moment, I think it’s prudent to assume that when one says forever, one means exactly that.”

“So that’s why the Argent Dawn is still around,” I said.  “Still fighting the same evil it was formed to.  It’s like it never won, and never will.”  Still inspiring, I supposed, but certainly the truth of the matter made for a different kind of symbol than the popular belief.

Fang narrowed his eyes, in what I thought was the murloc equivalent of a furrowed brow.  “Every night that Azeroth sleeps safe from evil is a victory for the Dawn.”

Oh.  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to minimize your–”

He interrupted me with a wave of a fin.  “Not 'my',” he said, “and not your fault.  Of course, we shouldn’t minimize the Dawn’s accomplishments in the Scourge War, either.  Among other things, it united the whole world under one banner for a time, something that has only happened twice in written history.  It also defeated the strongest will this world has ever seen.”

“And since then…”  I was sitting, rapt, at the foot of my bed, just bleeding curiosity.  I had forgotten that I had ever been sleepy.

“Since then,” he said, “the Dawn has been fighting a different kind of war, a shadow war, against an enemy with no leadership or purpose.  A secret organization, made of some of the most powerful people in the Eastern kingdoms, is perfectly capable of doing so.”

“And now,” I said, mildly star-struck, “I’m working for that organization.”

“For now,” said Fang, “that organization is meant to think so.”

Feeding me another mystery was the wrong answer.  Sick and tired.  Ripped away from my life, and friends, and job, and blackmailed and dropped into a situation where the closest thing I had to a friend was this sick, manipulative, mysterious little amphibian, whose only weapons had been fear of the unknown.  I snapped.  I stood up, hard, and knocked my head into the dangling light bulb.  I reached forward and grabbed Fang by his face and pulled him to his feet.  “Listen,” I said, through clenched teeth.  “You don’t get to say, be patient, any more.”

There was a blinding flash of light, and I flew backwards. Transforming as I flew, I struck the wall as a thick-skinned, slathering, angry, horned brown bear. Fang was standing on the chair, and his hands and eyes were glowing with white light. I leapt at him across the room, deadly paws outstretched. A brilliant flash smote me, striking my face and side like a blade of fire. I staggered backwards, clawing at my face. I gathered my wits, and bounded forward again, knocking him off the chair onto the floor. He hit the ground under my front paws with a sickeningly wet thud, and I pulled my body back into a bull.

The door had opened. Katy M had appeared, more than filling it. Her eyes were on fire. A roar built up in her chest, and a whirling, glowing green mist began to swirl in around her hands. The roar grew inside her, beginning to escape like pressured steam getting ready to blow, and I realized I was staring at her in terror. The roar finally escaped, and it was bestial, filling the room and my head and my chest. The green mist in her hands condensed into a tiny, bright point, too bright to look at, and then exploded out at me. It hit me as pure, elemental fury, the wrath of nature, and it flung me to the floor. “Attacking the Murloc angers the Tauren…” growled Katy M, as my consciousness faded to blackness. “Ow,” said the Murloc dimly. “Heal him, get both of you out of here, you know the drill.”

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