Seeking - 14 (An Order of Amber) (Patreon)

Looking back down the hills towards Dalaran was an incredible sight. It was just as amazing as when I'd first seen it, and from afar it honestly seemed even more magical. There was also an undeniable degree of reliefto be outside the walls of the city, the omnipresence of buzzing arcane magic absent for the first time in months. No constant sound of people moving around, just me and nature; the wind in the grass, birds chirping and calling, the rustle of foraging rodents moving about.

I loved being in Dalaran, but being back outside the city was giving me a break I hadn't at all known I needed.

Just ahead was my destination, and my reason for today's hike. Which really hadtaken most of the day with the sun already below the spire of the Violet Citadel on the Horizon.

As much as by pure dumb luck as anything else I'd found Rhonin. Or, at least, where Rhonin lived. I'd given up on looking for information on him specifically and started looking for his wife, Vareesa Windrunner, and found a forwarding address for mail sent to her. A small house some thirteen miles away from Dalaran. A short hop for a mage like Rhonin, probably a brief run for a Ranger like Vareesa, but a decent hike uphill for me.

But at least I was here, one sleepy little village of Rikkardin, home to Rhonin the Red-Haired who was future member of the Council of Six.

It wasn't the best to be arriving at dusk, though I doubted I'd be mistaken for a scoundrel or dangerous person with my general appearance and youth. Walking into the village I spotted a woman sitting under an awning and knitting away.

"Ma'am?" I said, walking up to her. "Could you tell me if Rhonin and Vareesa live here? I'm looking for the mage."

"The mage and elf? Ayep. They moved here. Spend much of their time gone, but come back once in a while." She rocked back in her chair, her knitting unpaused. "Were just here a week ago. Ain't seem them around since, mind. Theirs is the house by the big silver tree outside town, down the path by the saloon. You a mage too?"

"Kind of." I said, waggling a hand. Even if getting mistaken for the wrong kind of magic user got annoying, at least the people around here didn't dislikemagic much. "I won't be heading back until tomorrow with how late it is, so if anyone needs healing it's on offer."

It'd been a while since I'd done a healing session, well, outside of the training yard. I was certainly getting practice but helpingpeople by healing them was something I'd missed.

"Mighty kind offer. I'll see about telling folk."

I waved goodbye and made my way down the path she'd indicated, darkness falling as the dusk faded into night. It was only a few moments concentration, linking myself to the familiar constellation of the Raven, to form a twinkling crown of stars to light my path.

It wasn't really a mage light, fairly dim and the twinkling made reading by it awkward, but it was still so very nice to have.

About ten minutes after starting up the path I made it to the house, a two story building with glass windows and a thatch roof. A single large silver-birch standing alone beside it, and the fenced herb garden stood fairly wild and unkept. There were no lights on and I debated camping out till morning so I didn't wake them... but I wanted to get this done. To tell Rhonin, to get in contact with Krasus, Korialstraz, have a way of reaching Alextraza and nipping the coming nightmare in the bud.

I'd had nightmares of Dalaran's towers falling down, crushed into sand, lately. Of a bright green eyed Syllia screaming at me that I should've done somethingto help her. To save her.

Six years was a long time... and not enough time at all.

I knocked loudly on the door.

And waited.

After several minutes with no response I pounded on the door louder, and then with my staff. Nothing.

Closing my eyes I tried to feel for what was inside. Rodents, there was a small family of mice nesting in one of the walls... a bird who had laid her eggs up in a nest made out of the roof's thatch and braced against a chimney.

But no people.

I kicked the door, hard. "Gods damnit!" I screamed, ignoring the pain in my foot.

They. Weren't. Here.

Feeling frustration bubbling up within me I pressed a hand against the wood of the door. It was locked, I could bruteforce it open, but I could just twist the wood, warp the frame and– it swung open freely.

I stomped into the quiet home and looked around. Everything was in order, put away, kept in place. The pots hung up, the plates and bowls on the shelves. Every last little thing was neat and tidy and put away. The dust wasn't thick, so they hadbeen here recently; maybe even just days ago. But they weren't here now.

Shucking my shoes I decided I was staying the night here. If they came back, great, they'd find me and we could talk! If they didn't... I was getting a roof over my head for the rain that was going to hit tonight.

-oOoOo-

Having trouble sleeping I got up in the middle of the night, grabbed what seemed like a personal object for the wizard – a worn portrait of a woman and set of young boys – and went outside to perform a divination. I didn't wantto stay out here, waiting for him to come back, and I'd only begged a day off from Corrinth to give me time to come and go from the village but if he was coming back soon it would be worth staying.

With everything I'd learned it was far, far more fluid than my first time in Celestine's class. I'd long since stopped needing the little breeze that kept me company to correct the way I managed the spell, and soon had my answer.

Or what passed for one.

A great spire of red and gold set into a cliff face overlooking the sea, a vibrant forest with golden leaves behind it. Winding paths floating on nothing wound their way down the cliff to floating platforms and buildings, all made of white stone. I couldn't see anyone specifc, and the image was vague, yet there it was.

A place that was familiar to me, very familiar, yet also larger than I remembered. In the context of who I was looking for it really could only be one place.

"Windrunner spire." I muttered, falling back and splaying myself out on the grass to stare up at the stars. "Sodding countriesaway." I'd come out here, to find him, and for what? Nothing. They weren't here and wouldn't be back anytime soon. Not from that distance.

I went back to bed fuming, and was still angry when I woke up and went about my morning routine. Staying in Dalaran so long made washing from a bucket an irritating nuisance which didn't help my mood much, nor did the fairly plain fair of my flash-grown food.

At least I already had a backup plan prepared. Even if my divination hadn'tgiven me a decent answer I wouldn't have stayed around to wait for all that long. Every chance that he might come back was a chance Jaina might return to Dalaran, and I'd learned enough about the Proudmoore girl's habits to be able to ambush her in the city as soon as she came back.  There was a lotof gossip surrounding the apprentice to the only publicly known member of the Council of Six even without considering her status as the oldest child to the Lord Admiral.

Leaving behind a letter was a poor substitute to being here in person to convince him, to answer questions and try to prove my sincerity, but I'd included some secrets. Korialstraz. Him being duped by Deathwing. Rescuing Alextraza along with Vareesa.

My luck still felt utterly rotten and walking away from the house with nothingto show for it felt like an abstract failure. I was having more frequent nightmares of Dalaran's tall spires crumbling into sand and burying me alive, or the Goldenswords and Corrinth. Or Syllia accusing me of not doing enough to save her home.

It was stupid. There were six years left. I was trying.

Slowly I trudged along the muddy path back to the village and the main road, only to see some one spot me and shout something. As I got closer I saw a crowd forming.

"You're the one who promised free healing?" A girl said, supporting a disgruntled looking man who was entirely missing his left leg; cut off well above the thigh. "My husband needs–"

"She won't manage it." He growled. "It's a waste of time."

"I didn't say it was free." I said, glancing around and scowling at the woman from yesterday. "Just that it was on offer."

There were a few grumbles, and a couple of the people in the crowd left. More shot me dark looks.

"Figured." The man grumbled.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't charge much, just what you can spare. Unless it's big a few copper will do, or some cheese or bread or salted meat. Preserved food. I've got to eat as well and good will isn'tedible." My magic was, but I'd hardly say no to not having to grow my lunch and there were plenty of things I needed coin for.

"I've a silver if you can just fix my husband's leg." The woman said loudly, speaking over her husband's attempt to interrupt her.

Regrowing limbs wasn't anything I'd actually donebefore, but Celestine had taught me the theory... "I can try." Odd that a Priest hadn't managed it, I knew paladins could perform greater miracles. "Just sit down and I'll give it a go."

The man rolled his eyes, but acquiesced to his wife's prodding to cooperate with going back to their home and dropping himself on a chair. He sat there, arms crossed over his chest, and glowering at me.

First examination was odd. There were traces of magic present, that were just... lingering. "How'd you lose your leg?"

"Death Knight." He spat, his glower growing harsher. "Fucking orcs and their corpse monsters. No one can fix it, the church's tried. All I got was a shitty pension. This is a waste of money, Triss."

"And if I was to listen to you taking care of you would be a waste of money too!" She yelled, her hands clenched at her sides. "I want my husband back."

I left them to their byplay. A Death Knight. Immediately I'd had a moment of panic, thinking of Arthasand the Death Knights of the Scourge; but no. Gul'Dan had made the originalDeath Knights in the second war, I didn't remember much about them but... the result in front of me was nasty.

Just unwrapping the wound to take a look gave me the sense of a screaming babe, mutilated and torn, flesh dangling free as it screamed and lashed out. I didn't know if it was soul magic, but there was a rot there. A rot that wasn't physical though the flesh was black and oozing. Something was gnawing and chewing and biting its way into the man's leg.

It would have been far more preferable to do this at night under the stars, it would have been far easier, but even during the brightness of day they shined. Faint and overshadowed there was enough. Archmage Modera hadn't dwelled long on the topic of curses, stating that Cursebreaking was another class entirely, but it was enough for me to understand; and from thereI had to hope my Mana Sight could carry me the rest of the way.

At least it had been easy enough to find chances to practice using the Astral to chip at and erode more common forms of magic. Lightly enchanted boxes meant for spell-stealing or counterspell practice weren't cheapbut were at least affordable.

My hands began to literally glow with shimmering silvery starlight as I knelt down and placed them over his leg. At his side Triss gasped, wringing her hands as she fretted.

"This will hurt." I said bluntly. "A lot."

"I've had–" He started to say before a horrifying yowl escaped his lips and he bucked hard enough I had to dodge and he fell out of his chair, knocking it and himself to the floor.

I stepped back, letting the magic drain away. The curse felt like rotten pus to touch, an acidic bile that burned at the magic I turned on it. It was the most revoltingthing I had ever encountered. "Told you." I said, doing my best not to shudder.

"The fuck was that?!" He screamed at me, and I pointed at his leg – his leg that had been oozing yellow pus before was now bleeding a clear red. It wasn't healed, there was still pus, it was still revoltingand stank, but there was clear signs of improvement. "Well, fuck me." He said, staring down at it."

"Now, again, it will hurt. A lot. There's a... curse to unravel while I'm doing this so it's going to be slower than normal."

"Fuck me." He repeated.

"Rodger!" His wife whined. "Mind your tongue!"

"No, I'm twelve. And you're married." I said, rolling my eyes at him.

He just grinned up at me, setting the chair back up and pulling himself into it.

"Give me hell, girl. I want to walk again!"

It took half an hour, including the brief pause to convince the other villagers that I wasn'ttorturing the man, where I got the full story out of his wife. A veteran of the second war who'd fought alongside sodding Turalyonand been injured getting between the paladin and a Death Knight. Injured he'd been pulled from the front, then as his wound stubbornly refused to be treated, left in the back.

He survived but could hardly call it living, forcing his young wife to care for him.

There were a few other villagers that needed help; a young boy who had the flu and needed a little boost, a woman with arthritis making her hands hurt. Old aches and pains. I left a happy village behind, all generously thanking me for the help; it'd be late by the time I made it back to Dalaran but at least I'd done somethinggood while out here.

-oOoOo-

Life continued and nothing seemed to come of the messages I'd sent out, the Midsummer Fire Festival was just around the corner and I'd been in Dalaran for nearly three months. Life in the city was becoming familiar, normal, if it wasn't for the looming spectre and the on-and-off nightmares of towers crumbling into sand collapsing I would really consider living here more permanently.

But I couldn't. I couldn't lie to myself and say I'd be willing to stay, to risk my life, and fight for Dalaran. I knew what was coming and I was scared.

There was a certain temptation to find a ship all the way south to Stormwind, to join in on the rebuilding efforts there. To hide out far, far away from the Scourge and the danger they would pose to Lordaeron. But that wasn't a real option.

Mama was still out there, Celestine would never leave Gilneas without a fight, Heather, Lorna, all of the people I knew and cared for were there. I couldn't abandon them anymore more than I could wave my hands and stop the Burning Legion from existing in the first place. I wasn't that kind of person, and more importantly, I didn't want to be.

"I'm finished, Gwen!" Trysa said, smiling as she walked past me.

"Thanks." I muttered, moving towards the waiting Archmage.

With the Midsummer Fire Festival coming so soon, and there being a traditionalbreak in classes for it that didn't work for Astromancy – the festival surrounded the Summer Solstice – this was the last class untilthat one, in the middle of the festival. At least for Astromancy and Astral magic.

"You wished to speak with me?" Archmage Modera said, casually forming her normal sphere of silence. When she'd first done it I'd been fascinated and impressed, but after my classes with her I'd learned just how fragile it was. It would take barely any effort on my part to pop; and it wasn't terribly stealth either.

"I did. I waited until last because it's..." I struggled for the words. "Big."

I didn't want to have to resort to Modera, I knew things that I might be able to convince Jaina with. There were ways to convince Antonidas, maybe. But an unknown like Modera? All I really knew about her was that she wasn't a villain. I recognised the name but it was like a bland background npc; not anyone important.

But I didn't have a choice at this point. I couldn't put off telling people forever.

"In Gilneas there is a tree, a Great Tree, one that has stood since... since before the world was Sundered." I said, context was important but more important was that I didn't blather. "Witches like me have gone there for longer than we can remember, to gather and meet. Part of each Witch's initiation is being given visions by the tree. Of the past, of the present, and of the future."

She nodded, a faint frown spreading across her face.

"I'm an outlier, stronger than most. I bore witness to a lotin those visions. But... what stands out? What terrifies me? Is what I've seen of what's coming." I licked my lips. "Archmage, do you know the name Nath-er-ez-eem?"

Her gaze turned sharp. "Nathrezim. Dreadlords. A type of demon, of which Dalaran has a number of records. All sealed lest some fool think to call one up."

"There's a plot by them, or will be a plot. A plague spread through Lordaeron, a plague of Undead, and Arthas will be lured and tormented until–"

"Prince Arthas." She chided, interrupting me. "He is our prince."

"Not mine." I grumbled. "PrinceArthas will be lured and tormented until he snaps. Slaughtering the population of Stratholm, brought to Northrend, and corrupted. From there he returns as their agent, kills his father, burns Quel'Thalas, and brings Dalaran to its knees."

I paused. There was so much more I could say, more details, but there was no point throwing words out there without prompting.

Slowly Archmage Modera closed her eyes and sighed. "Visions are never so complete as this." She said softly. "I have heard you mention nightmares before, trouble sleeping. But watch–"

She raised a hand, the clouds above seeming to part and unveiling a starry sky – an illusion, a magnification of what filtered through them – and wove an interconnecting web between them. It was the most intricate and expansive divination I'd ever seen – and it was also the most misleading. Greatness and Renown, Revered for his Rule.

"Prince Arthas Menethil's fate was foretold at his birth. I myself read the portents, along with Archmage Antonidas, Archbishop Benedictus, Archbishop Alonsus Faol; all of us have had the same response, result, and conclusion. Prince Arthas Menethil shall follow in his father's footsteps and lead his people to greatness."

The way she looked at me sadly stung. She didn't believe me, not even in the slightest.

Arthas would lead Hispeople to Greatness. Not Lordaeron's people, not his father's people, hispeople. His endless undead slaves, creating an empire that rules over a continent and threatens all life on Azeroth. It was true but also so very wrong.

"It is a fond saying of King Terenas, whom I consider a friend, that on the day of his birth the very forests of Lordaeron whispered the name Arthas. With all that magic has revealed of who he will be..." She shook her head. "That claim rings true. The Prince is a bright and noble young man, and will grow up to be a great and righteous king."

"He will become the Lich King, sat upon the Frozen throne." I said in protest. Her mind was made up and she wasn't going to listen. "He will inspire the hearts of his subjects... the mindless undead with which he slaughters the living." I didn't remember the rest of the words of the cinematic off hand. My best approximation was in my notes but even that wasn't complete. "Kel'Thuzad, Necromancer turned Lich, will be his right hand."

Even the word that the forests of Lordaeron, most importantly the Tirisfal Glades, whispered his name damned him further. I didn't know whatlurked beneath those trees but it was a vile, vile thing.

"Just because you can parrot the news that a respectable Archmage has been caught and banished does not make you credible."

Damnit. "When?" I said, closing my eyes. That had been the only real bit of evidence I had to convince her. I thought it might have already happened but other than what she'd said before there'd been nothing.

"Not long before you entered the city, as you must well know."

"I... If you meet Archmage Krasus, can you tell him all of this and ask how Alex is doing since her brother was chased off?"

The sphere of silence collapsed. "Even if I were to meet Master Krasus, which is unlikely, I would not bother him with the false visions of a student. No matter how promising they might have been." She looked at me with disappointment, frustration, and a little anger. "Why?" She muttered, shaking her head. "Antonidas gets hisprodigy." She near whispered, only carried to my ears by the breeze.

She firmed back up. "I will not expel you from my class over this. But do not go around making a nuisance of yourself as so many other Doomsayers do. You are betterthan that, Apprentice Arevin."

As she turned and walked away my heart sank. Each footstep she took like a little piece of the hope I'd had being crushed.

Archmage Modera was both more important than I'd thought she had been, knowing King Terenas as a friend, calling Antonidas without a title, and the wrong choice to speak to.

"Damnit!" I kicked the ground, gritting my teeth as I shook. "I– What do I do now?!"

The little elemental breeze brushed over my cheek calmingly, reassuringly. There would always be more chances.

"And this was my best one!" I insisted. Caedan knew, Caedan was going to take it to Falstad; but would he listen? Would he just ignore what I'd written like Modera just had?! "Dalaran is thebest place to make a difference. To s–stop the invasion."

I was crying. I wiped away the tears but more of them kept flowing out.

"Damnit."