Infiltration

Laila shivered nervously as she and Edmond strolled down the road.

“I still think this is an immensely stupid plan that will get us both killed.”

Edmond sighed. “All joking aside, it very well might, Lai. But this is our best chance. Now that we know where they are holed up, it’s pretty plain that the only way to stop them is to get inside. And the only way to successfully get inside is this way. Even if every last man, woman and child in Sentinel Hill stormed the Deadmines we would be lucky to get farther than the first excavations without getting slaughtered. This Van Cleef has chosen his base well. There’s no getting in there except with a massive army and everyone knows our army has been spread thin for years.”

“I know that, Ed. It just seems … we are so green. This SI:7 must have people who would be better at this than us.”

“That could not be more true. But what we have on our side is credibility. I have been in the Defias, and no one there has any way of knowing what became of me. I’m sure no one in this lot even knew I ever existed, except that I can prove it with what I know of passwords and procedures from my old camp. It’s a plausible enough story that I seduced you and when the chaos came we ran away to be together and now have come to Moonbrook to hook up with the Defias in a place where you will not be seen and taken back by Elwynn Forest folk. If anyone tries to check our story, it will check out. All the background is already there.”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Still, I feel like I’ve no idea what I’m doing. But all the same, if something is going to be done about the Defias, I want to help make it happen. They changed the course of my life forever, and I can never forgive them for that. Look, we are almost there.”

As they rounded a bend in the road, the ramshackle buildings of what used to be the thriving market town of Moonbrook came into view. At one time, Moonbrook had been as prosperous and busy as Goldshire, its market square providing a meeting place for folk from all over Stormwind come to get the freshest fruits of the famous Westfall farms. Now it looked all but abandoned, the buildings fallen into disrepair, the harvest threshers rusty and squeaking as they slowly attempted to carry out their duties. Two bulky guards in ragged and torn leather and mismatched iron armor stodd at the entrance where the road branched off to enter the town.

They stopped at the guards and Edgar lifted a red bandana from round his neck and touched it to his chin as if to slide it over his face. The guards gave a quick nod but one of them said, “Hang on there, lad, we haven’t seen you here before. Who are you here to see?”

“Ay, brothers, I’m not from these parts. I was over in Northshire, but I’ve stolen this lass here from the abbey and we can’t stay there anymore. Jake Half-Toe gave me a right thrashing, then sent me here with my girl, said he’d heard you’d be needing more strong hands here anyway. I’m told to ask for Old Bernie.”

Jake was a real person, although he was languishing in a prison cell now. If anyone grew suspicious however, Edmond was prepared to be completely shocked at what had happened to the Northshire Defias, given that he and Laila had been on the road for months, working at farms during the harvest season to save up to get to Moonbrook. Old Bernie was the name they had been given by the young man they had caught. He was the tavernkeeper and he was also the kindest soul among the bandits. The prisoner had been sure he would be a foot in the door for them.

The men whispered and muttered among themselves for quite a while, then finally agreed to let them through. “Go down to the end of this street and make a right turning, then follow that until it branches again and you will find the tavern at the crossing there.”

Edmond thanked the two guards and then took Laila’s hand and pulled her along. She kept her head down and her cloak pulled forward over her face, though she had allowed them a look at her face when they first walked up, just to show there was no deception. But here she was playing the part of a runaway scullery maid – one who had been used to serving all her life and had known a quite different life than this. She had to act the meek little mouse, following wherever her love took her.

They followed the directions and came to the tavern, a beacon of light and warmth on a dingy street that was rapidly going dark as the twilight fell and no one came to light any lamps. They hurried out of the closing dark into the room. Laila rubbed her hands together. It had started to grow chilly as well as dark. A large hunk of a man came out from behind the bar. “Who is this then, coming into my tavern, but never seen before by the likes of me?” Old Bernie was just he had been described. A giant of a man, both tall and wide, with a shiny bald head and a shaggy beard. He had a face only a mother could love – a crooked nose, a jagged scar underneath one eye, and what teeth he had left barely hanging on for dear life. But there was something friendly in that face and Laila found she liked him already, despite not even having met him truly yet.

They introduced themselves and told their story. The prisoner was right that Bernie was a softie. As soon he heard about their young love, passionate enough to throw away their old lives, he was won over. He brought them into the tavern and sat them down by the fire, pouring them bowls of thick stew with chunks of dark brown bread and mugs of ale, which they ate eagerly.

“So you see,” Edmond finished. “I’ve been telling Lily here our story, how them nobles in Stormwind did us wrong and she sees the right of things now. She’s as eager as I am now to aid us and see that we get repaid.”

Bernie looked a bit troubled, but he said nothing. “A good lad and lass ye are,” he said instead. “I will talk to some people tomorrow about getting you set up with an assignment. What be your talents? I know they be needing miners and as for the lass, well … it wouldn’t hurt for me to have a bar maid here, although not sure you’d be wanting her subjected to the attention that would bring. Don’t suppose you can cook, can you lass?”

Laila looked shyly at the ground. “I’m afraid not, sir. Cook was most possessive about the food preparation. I sure can peel potatoes, and in time she’d have taught me to cook, but at the time I left I’d not touched a pot or pan yet. I am very skilled at sewing though – I used to do mending for extra coins at the abbey. I also know a bit about herbcraft and can make simple poultices and tinctures.”

“Ah well, a cook would have been nice, but I am sure that a good sewing hand could be put to use. To tell the truth, we don’t have all that many womenfolk here and what ones that are here ain’t so much the domestic type. And you young master? You look like you’ve got nice strong arms, you’ll probably go to the mines.”

“If need be, sir, I’ll do what’s needed. Although if I may say, my real skill is woodworking and carpentry, and if there’s any need of that I’d much prefer it.”

“Hmmm … is it now? That’s a good skill indeed. I think you might be quite in demand just now, then. Here now, I’ll make you up a bed by the fire and you’ll sleep here tonight. Tomorrow I’ll see to getting you placed and you’ll be assigned quarters as well.”

The two thanked the kindly old man profusely, and Laila felt a pang of remorse that she had to use him this way. It would all be worth it in the end, but that didn’t dull the sting now. Blushing, Laila crawled into the bundle of blankets on the floor beside Edmond. She’d never slept quite so close to a man before. Even though it was Edmond, it felt … strange and wrong. She hoped someday to share a bed with a man she loved, and this fakery made her feel as if she betrayed that future love, as silly as that was. Edmond courteously bunched up a blanket barrier between them and for a moment Laila bristled. She remembered back to the night in Stormwind last year that had triggered her disappearance and felt a wave of heat and anger flow through her. Why should she care? Edmond was only doing what was proper. Why did it upset her so? Bitterly ashamed by the resurgence of these old feelings, she flounced over in the bed so that her back was to him and tried desperately to clear her mind for sleep. She remembered that she was a frost mage and envisioned a cool barrier of ice surrounding and containing the hot bitter jealousy and anger that festered within. Slowly, she grew calm and serene once more, until she finally drifted into unconsciousness.

The Traitor

Capturing the Traitor

Laila yawned as she trudged down the road next to Elsharin. Behind her, the rest of their quadron marched sluggishly. I had been weeks since they had caught sight of anyone on their patrols, and even before that, if they had seen anyone, it was usually a lone person or group of two who vanished as soon as spotted.

“What do you think is happening?” Laila asked Elsharin, “Surely the Defias aren’t simply …. going away. But then, where are they?”

“I don’t like it at all,” said Elsharin. “Either this is a deliberate move meant to lure the people into complacency, or all hands are needed elsewhere. Either way, this is not a good thing.” She turned and reminded everyone to stay alert. Suddenly, their hunter, Lorell, paused and spit out in a harsh whisper, “Wait!”

They all stopped immediately. Lorell was an excellent tracker and when she gave an instruction like that, it was best to follow it. The group quietly and quickly moved into their ready stances. “There’s something just ahead, in that little stand of trees. Let’s go quietly, if you can’t follow without making noise, stay here.” She glanced pointedly at Erik, who was strong and a good fighter, but he was huge and clumsy when he tried to move softly. He cracked an embarrassed grin and crouched down to keep a rear guard where he was.

The party inched forward, the size of their group requiring them to make only miniscule movements in order to advance silently. As they approached the stand, they saw a party of two young men and a stringy middle-aged woman. They were ranged around a small campfire, drinking something out of a leather pouch and eating bits of meat they roasted on sticks. They were laughing raucously, but the woman suddenly shushed them. “Something’s out there, do you hear that?”

The young men stopped and listened. Lorell’s boar, Spiney, went crashing through the underbrush, running past the camp and then out of sight. The two young men laughed at the woman and went back to their japes. She relaxed too, but the frown never left her face.

Laila had been curious at first, why Lorell had chosen such a strange beast for her pet. Lorell had explained that she had other pets, but if she decided to stay in a place and to get involved in local dealings as she had here, she tried to choose a pet that would best suit her purpose there. Since working in Westfall required subterfuge it was important for her to choose a local creature. She had chosen the boar, because it was an animal that would not alarm people on sight. The boars of Westfall generally left humans alone unless they were attacked or felt they were in danger, whereas something like a wolf could cause a dramatic reaction in a situation that was all about subtlety.

“This could be an opportunity,” Laila whispered. Elsharin cocked an eyebrow at her.

“We outnumber them, even with our small group, and they won’t be prepared for us. We can take them prisoner and find out what is going on around here.”

Elsharin became thoughtful. “You’re right,” she replied. “We’ve become too complacent. Something like this could be the key to moving forward.”

Softly, she relayed the plan back to the others, Lorell drifted back to let Erik know. They melted into their positions, and then Elsharin stepped into the light of the fire. The bandits immediately leaped to their feet, drawing weapons.

“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” she said pointedly. “We are just looking for information. We have a lot to offer anyone who can help us. A full pardon, hot meals, an occupation.”

The woman spit on the ground in front of Elsharin. “That’s no more than we’re already owed.” she hissed. “We won’t be satisfied with that anymore. We’re going to take back our due and then some, no matter what you say. We’re going to-”

“Hush, woman,” said one of the men, a short stocky boy who looked something like a bulldog. “There’s no need to talk to this bitch, but I’ll tell you what, she’ll make a fine prize for Van Cleef. If we bring him something like this, we’ll get far more reward than her little gang over the hill could give us.” The three bandits suddenly looked at the exotic and deceptively delicate-looking elf speculatively. As one they began to close. There was a loud pop and arcane energies imploded the air, sending the three flying.

The rest of the quadron appeared out of the shadows. The youngest of the bandits tried to run. Laila turned toward him and flicked a wrist. The air shimmered and there was a rush of cold from her toward the boy and thick blocks of ice coalesced around his ankles stopping him in his tracks. He looked at her and fear suffused his features. She took a step toward him, “Don’t struggle, it will be more painful for you.” She turned to the others. The group was trying hard to subdue the two other bandits, but they were not prepared to give in at any cost. At last, they were taken down, the woman screaming with two of Lorell’s arrows in her legs and the stocky man bashed on the head with a club by Keagan. As they started to secure them, however, the woman went crazy.

“You won’t get anything from us. Never!” she screeched and pulled a dagger from her bodice and Laila could only imagine that she must be running on pure adrenaline because she hesitated only a moment, despite what must have been immense pain, turned to the unconscious young man sagging in Erik’s arms and threw the dagger. It sliced through the top of Erik’s arm and buried itself in the stocky man’s thick throat. Then with an animal scream, she ripped an arrow from her thigh and plunged it just below her sternum and then up.

The members of the quadron stared in shock. Laila couldn’t understand what had happened. “That woman …” she gasped.

“Was insane,” Keagan said shortly. “She had the strength and purpose that only madness can convey.”

Laila heard a soft whimper behind her and remembered the other boy. She turned to him quickly. “Listen, their fate does not have to be yours. If you help us, no one will know. I will see to it that you are taken care of. I know someone … someone who was just like you, once. He can talk to you and tell you his story. He can help you.”

For a moment, the boy tried to be defiant. But she could see the memory of what the woman had just done wash over his face and it crumpled. “I am a traitor,” he said, even as he slumped and accepted his fate.

“No,” said Laila. “You think you are, but you have been lied to. I can see in your face that you know that the cause you signed up for is no longer the cause you are a part of. You know it has gone too far. You have wished to get out before now, but you knew that if you tried, you were a dead man. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I promise you. You must speak to my friend, and you will see.”

Sighing, he nodded and Laila released him. It was clear to all that he would not fight or try to run now, so no one bothered to put him in bonds, although they placed him in the middle of their group as they began the walk back to Sentinel Hill.