Death Never Dies

by Milton Garby

"Yeah yeah," she said, cutting them off. Without preamble she pointed a magic-shrouded hand at the elf and began reviving her. "What happened to her?"

  "A wound got infected badly, we didn't catch it in time," the medic in the back said.

  "Mmhmm," she said, taking care not to let the strain of resurrecting someone show. With one final heave, she brought the woman back to life and purged her body of disease. "There, done. Anything interesting happening?"

  The lead priest shook his head as the night elf looked around, groaning as though she had a headache. "Nothing much, just taking care of the wounded."

  "Mmhmm. If you have no further business here then leave, I am very busy," she said crassly, pointing back to her work.

  Even as she worked on interpreting the enormous amounts of data, writing down C'Thun's magic signature on a graph and comparing it with her own, with the faceless, Sara continued to wonder how she would even get to Ulduar. She needed a portal, that much was obvious. But where? Obviously the closer the better.

  She tapped the pencil on her chin. Maybe if she could corner a mage alone, using her distraction gem to get there, and force them to open a portal. Obviously have them close it behind her, but how would she keep them from blabbing about where she went? It'd be best if she just went 'missing' and could be written up to being assassinated, rather than desertion. But how? Should she just... activate her gem and go for it? No, no that wouldn't work. When the gem's effects passed and she was nowhere to be found everyone would think she deserted. She needed an outside distraction. But what?

  Sara growled and wrote down a few more equations, trying to focus her attention on her work. It was absurd. Why did she even worry about being called a deserter? When she returned from Ulduar with the power that would turn the tide of the war, nobody would consider being angry with her. Even if she failed, and was accosted after the war, she could kill and/or mind control anyone who forced the issue. Still, even if she could handle it that didn't mean she wanted to have to.

  An hour passed. And another. Eric went out to get her lunch, and then the world shook.

  She shrieked and dropped her work over to the side when the first quake hit, rattling her to her bones. She couldn't hear any fighting, but then again she was in the barracks. Then there was another impact. It sounded first like a dull whum followed by a low growling sound as the earth shook. Sara grimaced, but put away her papers and stood in the middle of the room, grabbing her staff in one hand. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was about to get a lot of patients.

  Sure enough, she was right. A human, a dwarf, a draenei, a gnome, another gnome. Sara settled into her routine, relishing in the burn of shadow magic along her arms.

  Knock knock knock!

  Sara whipped her head over to glare at the intruder, only to find a worgen man standing there, knocking against the inside of the open door. "What?" she snarled.

  He chuckled but let himself in. "Sorry for startling you. Would you happen to know where I can find a Miss Smithers? Sara Smithers?"

  She huffed. "You're looking at her. Stand over there, don't block any of the dead people being brought in." He did as she told him to, planting himself between two currently empty cots just in time for another dead soldier to be brought in. Without even bothering to look at him, Sara began to gather the magic to resurrect him. "So why are you bothering me?" She didn't care who he was. Much.

  "My name is Flinch Chandler," he said despite her apathy. Sara eyed him again and got a good look at him. Unlike most worgen who liked to keep their fur well kept, his was shaggy and long, the dark gray strands clumping together irregularly. He stood out in Nethergarde because of how casual his clothes were. His pants were baggy and long and his shirt was small with hardly any sleeves. He wore, as was typical of his race, no shoes on his clawed feet. The peculiar aspect, though, was his guild tabard. It was purple, and had the lion of the Alliance inside the Horde's horseshoe, with a staff and a sword crossed behind it. She knew she'd seen that logo before...

  Whum went an infernal.

  Her face paled. Oh no. He was -

  "Nice to meet you," he said, extending a hand. "I'm with the Liberality Confederacy, I was hoping I could ask you a few questions?"

  Sara gulped, but forced her voice to steady and shook his hand vigorously. "Well I'm not going anywhere," she said with a little laugh. "Please, take a seat. You may need to end up standing though if I get swamped with people."

  Whum.

  "I understand, you're very busy here, what is it, bringing back the dead. I hope you're comfortable?"

  "Just cut to the chase," she said, accidentally revealing some of her nervousness. "Why is the Liberality Confederacy interested in me? I have an idea as to why, but I'd like to hear it."

  He smiled at her wryly, showing off some of his fangs. "Your resurrection powers, I assume? That's a large part of it, though not all of it. Listen Sara - can I call you Sara?" She nodded. "Listen Sara, I've read about you. You've had these powers all your life, so clearly you don't see them as too important. I'd wager you don't exactly see life and death the way the rest of us do, either. Your ability is very valuable and we at the Liberality Confederacy would greatly appreciate having access to you as... call it a safety net."

  "I'm not that good in a fight," she said, her throat tight. "I led an expedition to Ahn'Qiraj and when the qiraji attacked, I spent the entire fight getting knocked around." Sara did not want to be in the Liberality Confederacy. Sure the prestige and authority was tantalizing, but they had the job of going up against the big hitters. Deathwing, Illidan Stormrage, Kil'jaeden. She was all for having the ability to do anything she wanted, but she was also not keen on dying. She was powerful but... the greater demon lords? Beings that could kill anybody within a second if they so desired, crush a city into dust by drawing in the sand, battle and defeat all four Dragon Aspects at the same time and prevail?

  No, she wanted no part in that.

  "Really," she concluded. "I mean, I can fry the demons out there pretty easy, but the things your guild goes up against are sort out of my league."

  "That's perfectly understandable," he said. Then the worgen reached into a pocket and pulled out a few folded up sheets of paper. "But hear me out. One of the advantages of being in the Liberality Confederacy is access to a great deal of otherwise confidential records." He unfolded the paper and began to read over it. "Mainly, your magic recording. Your mana pool was at one hundred and twenty six thousand standard units deep. Your power is one thousand seven hundred and three tenths, and your resistance is at five hundred thirty eight." Her stomach dropped. How had he gotten those records? Exactly what sort of 'access' did they have? "That is quite a lot. Our fighters use enchanted gear to boost their power and stamina. They're strong on their own, sure, but against Naga Queens and Pit Lords every bit counts. Your magic levels, at the time of this recording, were actually slightly above what our casters have with full gear equipped."

  Sara blinked. "Really?"

  He shrugged. "Not by much, but then again you don't have any enchanted gear either. You'd actually do very well with us."

  "But I'm not good at - " she protested weakly, feeling her heart pound faster and faster.

  "Also, relax. You seem to be laboring under the impression that everyone in my guild has to join the battle raids, but this couldn't be further from the truth. We have a core fighting team of about forty people, and usually we take a little more than half of them on raids depending on who Turaniles wants to bring. However we have a lot of other people to support those. Blacksmiths, alchemists, engineers, spies.

  Spies, like to get my records, she thought angrily.

  "... archaeologists, and recruiters like yours truly. Actually!" He moved the papers around until he was looking at another one. "You worked at that store in Stormwind right? Uh... what's its name. Inscription and enchantment work right?"

  She nodded, getting a slightly better feeling in her stomach. If she wouldn't be forced to fight... still, where w
as Eric?

  Whum!

  "Right, those two," she said confidently. Another man was brought in, dead, and she revived him. "Been working there for a few years."

  "Yes well, your skill in those two would be and no offense, below our level but given how accomplished you are for your age, I imagine it'd take you little time to catch up. Your assistance with enchantment and inscription would be well received, but beyond that is, again, your resurrection powers. The application for those goes without saying. However there is one other thing," he said, raising one finger as he did so.

  "Really?" she asked, her stomach dropping again. What else could there be?

  "Now understand, I don't mean anything against you, but I know what sort of magic you have." Sara's eyes widened and her shadow magic began to bubble around her hands reflexively, spewing more dark fog into the air. "I also know that you know."

  "How?!" she hissed.

  "I suspected you knew given that you went knocking around C'Thun's corpse, but it's mostly because you just told me," the worgen said smugly.

  Her eye twitched, and the shadow magic thickened. Liberality Confederacy or not, she was going to turn this mutt inside out.

  "Relax," he urged. "Faceless magic or not it doesn't mean much, and I haven't told the Archmages anything. Don't know if they know, but just in case they don't?" He winked. "We'll just have to go over their heads." She was not going to relax her magic. Shadow barrier or not, if he put one foot out of line... "We don't get many opportunities to test faceless magic, usually their wielders are busy trying to destroy the world and don't submit to examinations. However if you were willing to give us a sample of your power, it could go a long way towards developing a more effective way to shield people from the power of the Old Gods. It's like your expedition. Find out how to undo their link for when the fifth Old God needs to be fought, but in this case it's finding a better way to fight the fifth one when it emerges."

  "I see," she said stiffly. "So you want me to come in order to revive the fallen, get up to speed on my profession and then make inscriptions and enchantments for the fighters, and to develop countermeasures for Old God magic." She forced her magic back down and crossed her arms. "What's in it for me?" she asked.

  "Glad you asked!" he piped, flipping through his papers again. "Our guild pays members a monthly stipend through the treasury, it's fifteen hundred gold per month." Sara forced herself not to gape, and to act uninterested. But... fifteen hundred! "You'll be provided lodgings within Darnassus, as well as access to files from all factions. Oh, you will have to get used to having orcs and forsaken and the like around you though."

  "That won't be a problem," she said quietly, not even glancing over at the newest gnome as she revived her. "This is a somewhat better offer than what I thought it would be originally." Maybe she should. She wouldn't be fighting, she'd learn a great deal of enchantment and inscription, she could get her hands on all the documents Archmages could and more, plus they could help her get to the bottom of her Old God magic. "Very well, I acce - "

  WHUM-KABOOM!

  The wall of the keep blew inwards, bricks severing themselves from each other and pelting the inside of the room like enormous hail. The momentous force lifted up Sara, shield and all, and tossed her back into a wall. Even with her barrier absorbing most of the force and weakening her deceleration, she collapsed to the ground as stars filled her vision.

  A low roar filled the air. She glanced up to see that the wall of the keep had been completely blasted open, revealing the scene of a hellish, fierce battle taking place in Nethergarde. Sunlight spilled in, revealing that mixed in with the shattered white bricks in the morgue, greenish-gray boulders had fallen as well. The impact had blown Flinch Chandler against a cot and impaled him through the chest with a splinter of wood, and sent Sara's pack filled with her belongings scattered on the floor.

  Then the boulders moved.

  Slowly at first, but then they rapidly pulled themselves towards each other, stacking up, up, and up until they formed a towering form six yards tall with boulders for legs, boulders for fists, the largest boulder for a ribcage and a small boulder with smoldering fire for eyes floated at the top of the ribcage. Then the head turned towards her and the inside of the stony ribcage caught fire. The emerald flames spread outwards from the infernal, forming fireball 'joints' in between its rock limbs, and causing its fists and legs to burn. Everything flammable in the room immediately began to wither, and in just a moment all the cots burst into flames. Sara was protected from the worst of the heat thanks to her shield, but even under its glossy magic she immediately broke out into a sweat.

  Sara launched a shadow bolt at the infernal.

  It was a quick cast and she hadn't put much power behind it, so when it splashed against the infernal's chest it only took a surprised step backwards. Still, that was enough time for her to scramble to her feet, nearly fall over, and sprint towards her burning belongings. A massive fist hammered her shield and threw off her balance, but instead of screaming she just readjusted and ducked below the next wild fist. She grabbed at her burning book and stomped it out until all that was left was the blue, teardrop gem it had held.

  She scooped it up and hissed at how hot it had gotten in mere seconds of exposure to the infernal, but pocketed it and turned her eyes back to the rock demon. Sara held up her left hand and summoned a bright purple glow to it, and released an unfocused wave of magic that turned the infernal back into cold, inert rubble.

  "Staff, staff," she muttered, looking around the destroyed room for the staff she'd been using during resurrection. She found it... broken into shards. She would just have to handle any over channeling as it came. A quick glance outside, at the shouts and screams and infernals and felguards and myriad other demons, settled the matter in Sara's mind.

  It was time to bail.

  She pulled out her distraction gem and, after blowing on it a few times, she channeled a surge of energy into the little crystal. It instantly began to radiate light, and she held it firmly in her fist. Like before, it would prevent anyone who looked in her direction from noticing her by putting them into a sort of stupor, whether or not they saw the gem itself. It was with that gem in her right hand that Sara stepped out into the Blasted Lands.

  Through her shadowy barrier, Sara heard gunshots, swords clashing, and spells flying left and right. Most of the fighting seemed to be concentrated on the walls, but raining infernals and flying doomguards had landed in the middle of the keep and were engaged by soldiers left behind specifically for that scenario. The wizard tower near the back of Nethergarde Keep was, fortunately, largely untouched but it was a long run there.

  Sara went to the side, trying to hide around the smaller gryphon roosts, alchemy labs, and other lesser buildings. Her distraction gem wouldn't work on infernals.

  Whum! Whum! Whum!

  And there were a lot of infernals.

  She ducked behind a boulder to avoid a fight between a doomguard and two night elves. She pressed against a wall to hide from a pack of roaming felhounds. Sara peeked around the wall to see how far she was from the wizard tower. Decently far, but she was making good progress. As long as nothing took notice of her...

  WHUM!

  Sara flew backwards like a rocket and smacked shield-first into Nethergarde's brick walls. She slumped down into her barrier and groaned, clutching her stomach. That was... not fun. Her eyes glanced up blearily to see more demonic rocks pulling themselves together into the form of a towering infernal that, with a roar, launched itself at her. She focused and began forming the matrix for a shadow bolt, channeling so much magic it shone green around her hands, and released the skull-shaped missile.

  She missed.

  The shadow bolt passed harmlessly through the gaps in between the infernal's rocks and left a crater in the building behind it. In the meantime the animated demon grabbed Sara's magic barrier in arm and smashed it against the wall, jostling her. Sara gasped and flinched when, still holding
her with one massive rock arm, the infernal reared its other fist back and slammed it into her shield with cataclysmic force.

  Her shield cracked.

  Get a hold of yourself, Sara! she told herself. You wield the power of the Old Gods, you've killed an infernal not ten minutes ago, kill this one!

  While her barrier was continuously hammered, she repaired it and then summoned the magic for another shadow bolt. In a second it was ready and then she shot out her left hand to fire it. It found its mark in the infernal's comically small head, forcing it back a few yards and letting Sara drop to the ground. Before the infernal stopped skidding backwards she was already preparing another apocalyptic shadow bolt, and launched that second one. The second shadow bolt also flew true, leaving a trail of smoke behind it, and its power was enough to disrupt the fel energy animating the infernal. It collapsed into rubble.

  Sara gasped and leaned over, groaning and clutching her burning legs with her smoldering arms. "Damn it," she breathed. Over channeling again. At this rate she was going to end up seriously hurting herself. She needed to hold back on her magic. She didn't need to down every demon with two hits as long as her barrier held. Sara glanced around. There were more demons coming and the soldiers were being forced off the walls to more directly hold the gate. Then she saw the titanic demon approaching Nethergarde keep.

  She had read about them. She had seen the pictures, heard the stories, but even from so far away nothing had prepared her for the sight of the annihilan. It was as tall as a dragon, some fifteen yards and then some from head to toe. It was like some defiled cross between a dragon and a centaur, with four powerful legs that each ended in sharp, stubby claws. Its skin was green and leathery, except for the underbelly which was patterned with armor-like yellow scales.

  The hind legs were bent oddly, and the forelegs were planted beneath a powerful torso. The torso had two meaty arms coming off it, with red wristbands. The hands held a single double-bladed glaive, almost as long as the pit lord itself and even as Sara watched the demon swung upwards, flaring the two vestigial, red-webbed bat wings sprouting from its back.