Death Never Dies

by Milton Garby

  It was pretty, she supposed.

  While the frost ward was still active, Sara made her way as quick as she could towards the southern end of Dalaran. She needed to get to Ulduar, and that meant getting to the Storm Peaks. She needed supplies, she needed transportation, and to get those she needed money. She didn't have money however, having left all of it in Stormwind.

  The solution was, obviously, to mug someone.

  That, however, provided problems of its own. For starters Sara had never mugged anybody, and she didn't want to even consider using her distraction gem, radiating its magic out in all directions, in the middle of Dalaran, city of the Kirin Tor. She certainly didn't trust her own stealth abilities to do so the hard way, even in the seedy Underbelly of Dalaran. That left her with reverse-mugging someone, which also had problems of its own. She was in Dalaran, so thieves and cutthroats undoubtedly had no small amount of antimagic.

  The other option was to mind control someone, but she needed them to stay still for that and unless she could find someone on their own to knock out... turning the tables on a mugger it was!

  She passed by the statue of Tirion and, after some traveling, arrived near the south-eastern edge of Dalaran. Sara knew what she was looking for, and she was on a timer before the frost ward ran out. There was a chance she could sweet talk another guard into giving her another cast, but she didn't want to rely on their charity. Sara walked along the wall, looking for a way down into the slums of Dalaran. There was one door... no. No. No. No. Maybe... no.

  Finally, she found the entrance. There was a little sliver in the glistening walls of Dalaran, leading into a dull world of green tiles and frozen water. The opening clearly wasn't an accident, it was a smoothly polished semicircle so clearly she was supposed to be able to go down. Sara paused at the entrance and allowed a shiver to go through her. She adjusted her pose and her eyes. She was not Sara Smithers, Magister of Stormwind, on a mission to Ulduar. She was a scared young woman, who'd gotten lost in the Underbelly and didn't know how dangerous it was.

  Sara stepped inside, looking around nervously. It was dark, with light supplied only by a few errant torches on the walls. She wandered, going down slick, icy ramps until she was in the Underbelly proper. A stream of sewage ran in the middle of a circular tunnel, forcing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. More pipes fed into the run off. Rats scurried away from her, and carrion insects hurriedly buzzed out of her way. The ceiling was dark gray stone, supporting the glamorous city above. The air felt slimy and ill around her, and she heard naught but the trickle of sewage, her own footsteps, and the noises of animals struggling to get out of her sight.

  Look left, look right. Shiver. Hunch. Arms hug herself. She simply oozed worry and a lack of confidence. All she needed to do now was wait for someone to 'jump' her. She'd need to be quick, though.

  Sara avoided a few tunnels that lead to the central chamber of the Underbelly, instead wandering down corridors alone. She saw a few denizens of the Underbelly, scraggly looking people of all races clothed in little more than rags, with a smell to rival the stream of sewage. Sara looked away from them, lest she make eye contact, but none of them seemed to follow her. None of them were on their own either, so mind control was still out.

  "Come on, where is it?" she whispered to herself, turning back from a dark dead end. She visited another dead end, and then three others, but in none of them did anyone attempt to rob her. A few times she thought someone was getting up to make an attempt, but they were just making themselves comfortable or going somewhere else in the Underbelly.

  How hard could it be to get robbed? Honestly, she wasn't even that intimidating of a targe -

  Something sharp and oh so cold pressed to her throat. "Hands in the air," a rough voice said in accented Common.

  "Okay, okay," she whimpered, while internally grinning. Finally. Now she just had to pull this off. Sara held both her hands up. The thug kept the knife at her throat, but began patting her down, looking for anything to steal. The joke was on him, she was broke.

  What she did next was incredibly risky, with a knife at her throat, and the buzzing in her veins was proof of it. Normally when she conjured her shadowy barrier, it formed at its set distance immediately and thickened. Now, however, she needed to form it right in the gap between her neck and the blade - which was microscopic - and expand outwards. It wasn't anything she could visualize. She needed to rely entirely on the math.

  Green, purple and black shadow magic rippled across her hands for a split second and then, in the gap between the weapon and her skin, her iridescent shadowy barrier formed and ballooned outward. The thug was thrown back from her as it snapped open to full size, and the knife clattered to the ground.

  She spun around, more Old God magic at the ready to rip his mind apart. Now she could see who her would-be attacker was. He was a blood elf, so his skin was just as pale as a high elf's, but his eyes burned demonic green. His gray, patchwork clothing was in tatters and he looked like he hadn't had a good meal in days, but that was about to be the least of his concerns.

  Then he threw his hands into the air and summoned arcane energy.

  A rush of air heralded a much more intense rush of mana. A silver ring formed on the ground and blue motes condensed from the air, all of which collapsed into the blood elf's chest as arcane runes flashed around him. Sara fell forward as a good chunk of her own magic was torn from her body, and the rest was destabilized, placing it beyond her use and the magic she'd gathered trickled away.

  Oh.

  Sara stepped back and grabbed his knife, holding it ready with one hand. All she had to do was wait until her magic came back. And with her shield active that was easy.

  He cast another spell and her own shield vanished, appearing around him instead.

  Oh come on!

  Sara backpedaled as the mage held up his hands. Slowly, embers began to coalesce in his palms, but then they quickly built into a fully formed fireball in his left hand. It shot out at her much faster than she expected, so Sara threw herself to the ground at lightning speed. Even so, she felt it burn the hairs off her neck. Even worse, there was no cover and she was still silenced.

  She charged at him.

  Sara did not think, even for a second, that she could break through her own barrier. However, she didn't need to. All she had to do was push him over onto his back and that would but her valuable time until she could use magic again. She lifted her right leg and kicked the barrier as hard as she could.

  The blood elf didn't budge, and Sara fell to the ground with what felt like a sharp hammer-blow traveling up her bones. She clenched her teeth together not to scream, and the mugger brought his hands together and began forming a frost spell. When she saw him about to thrust his hands at her, Sara rolled to the side and let the cone of icy winds batter the ground where she'd been a moment before.

  Then her magic returned.

  Still on the ground she grinned and reached her magic into his mind. Before he could counterspell her, before he could polymorph or do anything, she reached the brain stem and stopped his heart and lungs from functioning.

  He brought a hand to his chest in confusion, mouthed some words in another language, then toppled over like a statue.

  Sara scrambled back to her feet, wincing in pain, and began to dispel the dark shield over his corpse. After a few seconds it went down, and she knelt over his body and searched for anything.

  It was sloppy, she had to admit. She should've paralyzed him and ordered him to give her everything of worth he owned. Plus, muggers weren't likely to have much money of their own. She had also taken her magic for granted and just assumed she could cast her way out of anything, but this time there was nobody around to help her. Last time she'd been against an army of qiraji and an obsidian destroyer, not a half starved mage, but next time she might not be so lucky.

  She didn't find much on him, which was more than she expected to find. A grand total of twenty silver, which wouldn't go far in a c
ity like Dalaran. Still... maybe she could work something with that. First step, though, was to get out of the Underbelly and hope not a lot of the smell followed her.

  Leaving her meekness behind, Sara retraced her steps and found herself climbing the ramp back up within minutes. The frigid air of Dalaran blasted into her again, so that meant her frost ward had faded away some time during her escapade in the Underbelly. However, she already knew where she wanted to go, and after getting directions from another guard mage - and another frost ward after she emphasized her shivers - she was on her way to Runeweaver Square and the inn it held.

  Legerdemain Lounge. It was a welcoming enough inn, she supposed, though nothing like she'd ever been to. The floor was, instead of wooden boards polished to a shine, made of colored rocks carved into geometric shapes, arranged into inscrutable, meaningless patterns. The inn was shaped like an arc of a circle, with entrances at either end. On the inner end of the 'arc' was the table behind which the innkeeper worked, and behind that were the beautifully etched windows.

  There weren't a lot of tables, but the ones that the inn had all had plenty of seats, likely to encourage mingling. Each table was an oval made of glass, with a smaller oval cloth in the middle with candles, condiments, and plates already laid out. Underneath each table was a circular purple rug, and if she didn't know better she'd have thought the chairs were solid gold. Blue crystals in the ceiling provided light, and stairs at the 'outer' part of the arc led upwards to what was probably the second floor, where rooms for the wealthier patrons were held. Some of the tables were occupied, but over all there weren't many people.

  Sara's eyes caught sight of a man in Kirin Tor robes sitting at a table by himself. He had a rather large meal before him, so he'd likely still be there for a while. The meal must've also cost a pretty copper, so he was probably well off. Well off enough to afford a room. He was her best bet, he was her target.

  She went to the innkeeper and offered the woman a bright smile. "Hi there!" she said. "I'm new in Dalaran, what kind of food are you selling here?"

  The older woman, with graying brown hair and an alarming amount of laugh lines, smiled at her. "Well we have all sorts of things! For seventeen silver you have one of either sweetened goat milk, seal whey, goat cheese, flatbread, or salted venison. For twenty two silver some basted caribou, potato bread, honeymint tea, or hardcheese. What would you like?"

  The twenty two silver options were all out, so it would have to be seventeen silver choices. Sara made as if to consider. "Hmm... I'll have just a slice of venison."

  "Anything to drink with it?" the innkeeper asked as Sara began fishing the coins out of a pocket in her robes.

  "Nah, just had a lot to drink," she lied, putting seventeen silver onto the table counter.

  The older woman counted them out. "Five, ten, fifteen, seventeen. Alright, here you go!" She took the money and leaned under the table. Coins clattered, then she pulled out something white and red. Once she stood, Sara could see it more clearly. It was a white cloth with a slab of cooked meat on it. "Enjoy your meal, miss."

  "Thank you!" Sara chirped, taking it in hand. It was warm through the cloth, and the smell of herbs and spices wafted up from the venison. She already knew her target but turned around, made an uncertain noise as she looked at the three tables, and eventually started towards the one with the man she'd singled out.

  There was a plate with utensils already out for each seat, and she chose the one across from him. "Hi, mind if I sit here?" she asked in a friendly tone with a happy smile.

  He waved a hand. "No please, go ahead," he said through a mouth full of cheese.

  Sara sat down and took a deep breath to prepare herself. She'd only get one shot at this. It had to go perfect. "Thanks! This is my first time in Dalaran so I'm still pretty, errr, you know?" She took care to make her voice as conducive to conversation as possible. She needed to get him talking.

  He looked up and, while he didn't huff a laugh, Sara did catch a light pull on his eyelids that indicated mirth.

  Humor, okay then.

  "Yeah, I know. So what're you doing in Dalaran?"

  "Well I work for this little inscription store in Stormwind." She sliced off a bit of her venison with a knife and stabbed it with her fork. "I'm doing an apprenticeship for Miss Rothauler, and she wanted me to come here to get some Ink of the Sea. Got turned around a bit, and now here I am." She shrugged. "Well there're worse places to get lost."

  "You're an inscriber?" he asked. "Don't meet a lot of people in that profession."

  "Well, I'm Katherine," she lied, extending a hand and plopping the slice of venison into her mouth.

  "Antonilon," he said, shaking her hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

  "You too!" She swallowed her food. "So enough about me, what're you doing here?"

  "Oh, just passing through," he said. "I'm a researcher in the Kirin Tor. I've been working on the Karazhan Leyline problem, and I'm passing through Northrend to see the resonance constants of the ley lines here."

  She sat up, part of her genuinely interested. "You're working on the Karazhan Leyline problem?" she said excitedly. "How's it coming along?"

  It was his turn to groan. "It is exactly as hard as everyone makes it out to be. But you know the Oculus Convergence Paradox? I think the way around it has something to do with the soil density around Coldarra compared to Deadwind pass, as well as latent Titan energy and rate of magic flow. It's just a hypothesis right now though."

  They continued to talk back and forth about his work. Sara didn't know too much about the Karazhan Leyline Problem, it had always been far beyond her abilities, but she knew enough to make polite small talk, slowly pushing him in the desired direction with little prods that suggested that Katherine was very interested.

  "Do you have any notes with you? I'd love to see what you've done." She took another few bites. Sara just needed to get him alone. If she could get him alone...

  He glanced at her, unamused. "Why, gonna steal my work?" he asked half-jokingly, finishing his food.

  She rolled her eyes. "You got me. I'm going to memorize your notes and go on to solve the Karazhan Leyline problem all on my own."

  "Alright alright, come on. I'm staying in a room for the day and I've got my notes on the dresser."

  I've got you now, she thought. Sara finished her meat and stood. "Lead on, mister researcher."

  He laughed. "This way," he said, pushing in his chair. Sara followed him as he walked to the stairwell in the outer arch and went up it. The second floor had the same intricate design as the first floor of the Legerdemain Lounge. There was a hallway, and from it branched several doors to several rooms. Antonilon lead her to the third one down and opened it. "Ladies first."

  "Oh ladies yourself," she said before catching her irritation and forcing it down. The inside of the room was decorative, but she was so close to her goal she didn't spend much time thinking about it. Bed, shelves, books. Big deal. She turned back to Antonilon. "So where're these notes? I'm just dying to see what you've got."

  "They're over there on that shelf," he said, closing the door. He walked forward and passed Sara, and the moment his back was to her she struck.

  It was quick and it was efficient. A quick jab to the brain stem, and he was instantly asleep. Sara caught him by the armpits and lowered him to the floor. He stirred and snorted, but before he could wake up she cut a few of the mind links and he was suddenly unable to wake up. She stood up from him and inspected the door. It was unlocked, something she quickly rectified.

  Time to rob him blind.

  Like a silent tornado she rifled through his bookbags, through the drawers, through his pockets, through the leather bag slung on the floor. She ended up pocketing just shy of ninety-eight gold, which was more than enough for what she was going to do. Her entire body tingled. She was actually doing it. Sara was actually whole-heartedly robbing someone in broad daylight, and nobody was going to question it because who in their right mind would think to chec
k for Old God magic? Still, one more loose end.

  She couldn't just outright kill Antonilon. If she went back downstairs there might be questions, especially if he didn't come back down. If she left the inn with no incident, eventually he would be found dead, and then she'd have a bounty on herself. Sara would have a head start, but it was a mess she wasn't keen on getting involved in. The best solution was to get him to come back down with her, and for them to part ways, and for him to not care at all that he'd been robbed.

  There were a few ways of going about that. Targeted amnesia was possible in theory, but she didn't know enough about how memories were stored to go that route. Extreme lethargy was another possibility, especially if she linked it to his sleep center to make it pass after he went to sleep, but that had the possibility to backfire. The most foolproof plan was to simply make him exceptionally loyal to her, tell him what to do, and then go from there.

  She'd done it to the succubus, and she'd done it to the dead mage in Nethergarde. Now she needed to do it to him. The good news was she had plenty of time to get it right, so she knelt by his head and began.

  Break a link here, grow a link there, rearrange one over there. She whispered to him now and again with orders, and saw how he responded to them and with that information narrowed in on where the mental lines dictating his loyalty resided. Plick, pluck, pluck. Her breath came sharply and the cold air of Northrend, even inside, made her shiver. Minutes passed, ticking by on a cuckoo clock that came with the room.

  Sweat beaded her brow and her mana pooled ached, but after an hour she finished up the loyalty spell. She stepped away from him and made a change so he could once again wake up normally, then plucked at that string to actually wake him up.