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XXVI
I turned back to Rhy. She was staring at her
hands, flexing them slowly, turning them and looking at them with a
haunted look in her eyes.
“Rhy?” I said. “You okay?”
She shook her head slowly back and forth, and
looked up at me, looking sad, scared – forsaken, I thought.
“I died once,” she said, shivering, looking back
down. “This was a pretty stark reminder of what it felt like.” She
looked back up, her glowing eyes full of sincerity. “I hope that you
never die and live to remember it,” she said. “It’s the worst feeling
ever.”
I took an awkward step closer to her as she spoke,
concern in my face, and extended an arm towards her. She looked at it,
and smiled. “Thanks,” she said, and slapped it good-naturedly away. I
grinned and dropped it. We were friends again.
“Who were those guys?” she said, bright again.
“Were they from that gang you worked for in Orcmar?”
“Yeah,” I grunted, “jerks.”
“Yeah!” she said. “Good thing about…” and she
glanced out into the woods, looking as confused as I had. “Good thing
about whoever’s running around the darkness melting faces,” she said.
“No kidding,” I said. “So what’s the deal with all this?” I
continued, after a beat, by way
of conversation. “How long did you live in Storm City for? For that
matter, how old are you?”
“Eight-five,” she said nonchalantly.
“What!” I exclaimed. “You’re old.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, they woke me up
eighty-five years ago. I was twenty-two when I died.”
“Woah,” I said. I paused. “I can’t even begin to
wrap my mind around that.”
She smiled. “It’s pretty crazy, yeah. You die,
and it’s the worst thing ever and then it’s over, and then before you
think any time has passed you’re waking back up, and your whole body
hurts and there’s a weird taste in your mouth that never goes away ever,
and you’re strapped into this weird chair and there’s these
creepy-looking guys standing in a circle around you, and when you sit up
they start cheering, and only one of them can speak your language.”
“The language!” I said. “Is that that horrible
spitting grunting clicking thing?” I almost added, that they were
making as they destroyed our home here? but I didn’t.
Rhy didn’t notice. “Yeah!” she said. “That’s
Gutterspeak.” Then she broke into it, clicking and sucking at the air.
My stomachs turned, and the look on my face must have read revulsion.
She stopped. “Sorry,” she said, deflating. “I’m kind of used to it.”
“Why not just speak Common?” I said, a little
unfairly.
“Some of us are pretty rotten by the time they
bring us back,” she replied. “A bunch of us are missing jaws, so it’s
not like we can all run around yelling at the humans in Common. When Sylvannas reawoke the first Forsaken, they invented a language they
could all speak.”
I nodded, bringing my visceral reactions back under
conscious control. After a moment of silence, I said, “Well, so what
did you say just now?”
She smiled. “I said, it’s nice to see you.”
I grinned. “Back at ya.”
* * *
The sound of crunching underbrush interrupted our
reunion, and Allyndil reappeared, with Anduin and Madoran on his heels.
Anduin stopped short, staring at Rhy. “I didn’t
believe you,” he said to Allyndil, a sound of deep misgiving battling
with uncertain revulsion in his voice.
Madoran grunted. “Hi,” he said, loudly, at Rhy.
“Hi,” said Rhy uncertainly.
“You’re undead, but you got your soul back?” said
Madoran.
“Yeah,” said Rhy.
“And you’re trying to help us?” said Madoran.
“Yeah,” said Rhy.
“And you know where the black book is?”
“Yeah, I do,” said Rhy.
“Good!” said the dwarf, and he glanced meaningfully
up at Anduin.
“You’re wounded,” said the elf, looking at my
ankle. I glanced down. Blood oozed from where the goblin had taken his
one stroke.
“Grimble,” I said. “He was after me after all.”
Allyndil knelt in front of me and began examining the wound.
Madoran nodded. “We passed Krull on the way back
to here.”
“Yeah, he ended up saving us, actually.” I glanced
over my shoulder into the dark woods, though.
The dwarf smiled. “I thought he’d turn out okay,”
he said.
“I’m sorry that the rules of hospitality prevented
me from doing more against the goblin,” said Anduin, “but we couldn’t be
sure he was who you were worried he was.”
“I understand,” I grunted, then hissed in sharp,
transient pain. Allyndil stood back up. My wound was healed.
Rhy looked nervously about at the now-eclectic
group of non-corpses in front of her. If she was facing death or
expulsion for breaking her oath to just me, I could imagine what she
must be feeling faced with a bull, an elf, a human and a dwarf. She
glanced at me, as though for moral support. I nodded. She steeled
herself, turned to Anduin, and spoke.
“Well,” she started. “Listen,” she continued,
“you’re here searching for a book. The fact that you,” and she nodded
to Allyndil, “don’t know that much about it, makes me believe you when
you say you don’t want to use it, that you want to keep it away from
those who do. Which makes me more comfortable telling you what I’m
about to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “The book you’re looking
for is in the Forsaken city built under the ancient ruins of Lordaeron.
It’s usually well-guarded, but we’re a small community, and scattered.
More of us are arriving from around the world, but there’s not enough of
us massed yet to mount an army in the field and one at home guarding us
and the book. And,” and she looked down, almost embarrassed, “yesterday
morning, when Lady Sylvannas received word that your little human
enclave had turned malicious, she flew into a rage and sent most of our
standing army east, leaving the book, among other things, unguarded.”
“What!” cried Anduin in a shock which we all
shared, but Rhy cut him off.
“She didn’t realize that you’d left,” she said,
“and I didn’t tell anyone.”
“How did you know find out?” Allyndil asked.
“More to the point,” Anduin interjected angrily as
Rhy made to answer, “what are you expecting from us in exchange for
telling us that your people have sentences us to death?”
“Listen,” she said. “It was a misunderstanding,
and one based on ignorance which we have worked hard to foster, but you
did kill my people.” Anduin made to speak again, but Rhy cut him off
again. “Listen!” she repeated, and her eyes flashed green again for a
moment. “I thought, and many of my people agreed, that the Dark Lady
acted rashly to send any force at all, much less a fairly large one,
away from Under City when we knew that the threat from the warlocks was
growing daily. But none of us knew that the threat is as imminent as
you say it is.” She nodded to Allyndil. “So,” she continued, turning
back to Anduin, “we have a common purpose: to warn my city that it may
be in immediate danger, and convince Lady Sylvannas to recall her army,
still more than a day’s journey from your enclave, back home to protect
it.” She paused, glancing around. “And, if you know the least bit
about the black book you seek, I believe it goes without saying that
making sure it stays safe is a goal we all share.”
Anduin looked at her, struggling with emotions,
some of which I recognized as ones I had struggled through not twenty
minutes earlier. But the old man mastered them quickly, and when he
spoke he spoke evenly. “Thank you for warning us,” he began, “and I can
see no treachery in your doing so. And thank you for opening our eyes
to the nature of the crime which we committed against sentient things.
For those crimes, I am deeply sorry.” He bowed, and then paused. “You
say that the book is safe with you: how can we trust that?”
Rhy laughed shortly. “Because we’ve had it for six
hundred years, and you have no way to take it from us.”
Anduin grimaced, but he nodded. “So we both want
to keep it safe, and we both want your queen to withdraw her troops back
to your City. How? Can you just tell her?”
Rhy shook her head. “I’m nobody. We’re small, but
not that small, and there is a rigid hierarchy I’d have to get through –
and by then it’d probably be too late for your home, and possibly for
the City. But if I arrived with your warlock hostage, and you or one of
your men to explain …”
Anduin narrowed his eyes. “I will not send one of
my warriors into the Lordaeron ruins – no living being has ever
returned.”
“Yes,” said Rhy impatiently, “because we killed
them. And there’s a danger that when we arrive, we’ll all be killed on
sight. But I don’t think so, if we’ve got a valuable hostage.”
Something Anduin said brought up a memory, for the
second time in as many days, of Ordinn the dwarf delivering his
instructions to me for this quest, this test I was on: Your eventual
goal is to get to the capital city of Lordaeron, he’d said. Good
luck with that.
“I’ll go,” I said.
Everyone turned to look at me in surprise, Rhy most
of all. “Horse, no,” she said, “it’s too dangerous.”
“But not too dangerous for one of my own?”
challenged Anduin.
“Horse is my friend, and your own slaughtered six
of my people,” snapped Rhy.
“I’ll go,” I repeated more firmly, interrupting the
two. “Rhy, you can’t take the warlock by yourself, you need help, and,
I mean, you risked your life for me. You can’t not let me do the same,”
I finished, sounding more confident than I felt. Rhy smiled warmly and
thankfully.
“Good lad,” said Madoran approvingly. “Ah’m comin’
too.” I breathed a sigh of relief.
“I don’t know about…” said Rhy, trailing off.
Anduin began a brusk, “Surely you can’t expect—”,
but I cut him off. “Rhy, please?” I said. “I’d feel a lot safer with
Madoran along.”
She grimaced. “Okay,” she said.
“I’m sending Luke with you, too,” said Anduin, “for
your protection.”
Luke? I thought. Then I remembered the spell he’d
been trying, and failing, to teach himself in the hour before we left
Uther’s Tomb. I hoped he’d figured it out. Then I hoped we wouldn’t
need it.
Rhy gritted her teeth. “Fine,” she said, “but no
more.” She looked around at us. “If we leave now, we can almost make
it there by dawn.”
Anduin nodded. “I’ll go wake Luke, and secure the
gnome.”
“Wait,” said Rhy, “the warlock you captured is a
gnome?” She struggled to suppress a grin.
Anduin nodded. “A gnome wizard, wielding terrible
powers of darkness. He is not to be trifled with.”
Rhy laughed, then stifled it, and said, “Not to be
trifled with, got it.”
Anduin sighed, and turned back towards the camp.
“That a brave thing you just did, lad,” said
Madoran, turning to me.
“You too,” I said, nodding to him.
“Aye, but I’ve been brave for years,” said the
dwarf, eyes sparkling. “What’ve you been for years?”
“Curious!” said Rhy, grinning. I creased my
forehead at her. She looked impishly abashed.
A few short minutes later, Anduin returned with
Luke, who led the bedraggled gnome by a rope tied tightly around his
wrists behind his back. The gnome looked dour, but strangely serene, I
thought, and he came along silently and not unwillingly. Rhy sidled
over to me. “He’s really cute!” she whispered.
“He killed Rayn,” I muttered back.
“Oh,” said Rhy, looking chastened. “Who’s Rayn?”
Anduin turned to Madoran. “Are you sure about
this, old friend?”
“Aye,” said the dwarf firmly. “It’s not as though
ye’re goin’ off to vacation in a land of stout and honey, is it?”
Anduin smiled. “You’re right about that,” he
said. He turned to the elf. “Allyndil, you’ve been a friend of the
Silver Hand for many years: will you help us now in our time of
desperation?”
Allyndil smiled. “I’ll stand or fall with you,
friend.”
Anduin nodded gratefully. He turned to me.
“You’re a brave bull,” he said, “and your heart is good. I hope, if we
all make it through this, that you’ll come back to Uther’s Tomb and
break bread with us some day. You’ll always be welcome there.” I put
my right fist over my heart, and bowed from the waist. Anduin smiled
broadly, and returned the salute.
He turned to Rhy. “If you are what you say you
are, and if you succeed, then you, too, are welcome at Uther’s Tomb. If
you are what you say you are, and you’re willing, then I would like to
invite you there, as I believe you have much knowledge which we do not.
If not, though,” and his face turned stern with suppressed fury, “if you
are false, if the faith we are putting in you leads to the death of even
one of my men, then I pray that Uther’s spirit smites you and all of
your kind with such might that the whole world will hear of your foul
existence and blessed destruction.”
“Fair enough,” said Rhy icily.
Anduin turned to Luke. “Thank you again,” he said.
Luke bowed. “I know the stakes, and I go
willingly,” he replied.
The old man turned back to the rest of us. “Well,”
he said, “I guess this is it. We each of us go into great danger and
uncertain fate.”
“An’ there’s a good chance we’ll all die!” said
Madoran cheerfully.
“Yes, thank you,” said Anduin. “Allyndil and
myself go with the rest of the Silver Hand to protect our home, if we
can, in case the undead army which marches against us fails to be
recalled. Horse, Madoran, Luke, our hopes for success lie with you
now. I have faith.” He bowed. He turned back to Madoran. “Be well,
old friend, do good work.”
Madoran grinned. “Keep in touch!” he rejoineded.
“Light be with you,” said the old man, and then he
and the elf turned away from us and receded into the darkness.
We stood for a moment, in quiet uncertainty: a
corpse, a dwarf, a bull, a human and a tightly-bound gnome. None of us
had any illusion what we were facing, and the gnome, eyes closed, still
serene, looked the calmest of us all.
Madoran turned to Rhy. “Lead the way?” he said.
She nodded, and turned towards the darkness.
“Well,” she said, “here goes nothing.”
XXVII
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