Deadmines

The juggernaut in the Deadmines

Laila sat in a small dark room. An oil lamp burned dimly and she was scrunched up as close to it as she could, black leather spilling over her lap like oil and a small, neatly folded pile of more black leather stacked next to her feet. The room swayed gently and she shuddered a bit, remembering the size of the behemoth in which she sat. But her mind couldn’t help wandering to the thought of how high she was and whether, if she walked outside, she would be able to peer down over the walls of Stormwind when they reached their destination.

A chair scraped in the next room and she looked down, frowned and concentrated over her work. She pressed her feet to the floor as if to seek some sort of connection to Edmond, who labored far below. Neither of them would ever have imagined the vastness of the secret these mines hid. Larger than anything she had ever seen, this ship was truly a devastating weapon and she feared if it could not be stopped all life as she had once known it would be destroyed. She wondered if the men who had created this ship — most of them builders by trade, creators–new how much destruction their creation would bring. It should be abhorrent to a crafter to destroy so much honest labor in one fell swoop, much of it their own. But no one here was rational anymore. Things had long since descended into madness along with the leader of the Defias.

As if her thought had disturbed him, she heard Van Cleef clear his throat next door. He shuffled some papers, made some pen scratchings and then she heard him leap from his chair and begin to pace. She could tell he grew impatient. He was not the type of man who liked to be idle. All his life he had worked and now no less so–but he was a leader and he could not labor with his underlings. He had to show his men that he was in charge, that he was supervising and making decisions. But he was not a thinker and each day he grew more unable to sit and think and plan. She hoped that meant his guard was down.

Edmond had more freedom than she did. He had become well-trusted, for he had proved himself and he had a past. In all respects he seemed dedicated to the Defias for most other boys in the situation he claimed probably would have run off, taken a job and abandoned the Defias. He had seemingly stuck with them and made his way back and he had set to work earnestly with a convincing fervor. His father had also been well-known and was considered a hero, for he had died at Northshire. Laila was an unknown quantity so she was required to stay close to Van Cleef during the day, mending his clothes and those of his personal guard. At night she was escorted straight back to the inn to be watched over by Old Bernie until Edmond returned.

This freedom had allowed Edmond to get information to the SI:7. He hadn’t been able to tell her much, but it was a quick business. Short meetings in the dead of night, as Edmond made his way back to the tavern. He didn’t dare write anything down so they could only hope that the information would be enough and that action could be taken before it was too late. Most recently he had delivered the most important piece of information: the location of a secret entrance to the mines that led directly to where the juggernaut was being constructed. Now they could only hope the Stormwind forces could find a way to use this information before the giant vessel set sail toward Stormwind Harbor.

But time was passing rapidly, and each day the ship grew nearer to completion, and they heard nothing more from SI:7. Laila felt very alone, very small, and very frightened. Her hand faltered for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and concentrated hard on her sewing. Watching each stitch progress neatly, one after the other like little soldiers marching step-by-step in straight lines. She imagined it was an army, marching toward her, ready to do battle.

At that moment there were bangs and clatters from the next room. She heard shouting and a commotion far below. She heard cursing from Van Cleef and heard his footsteps pound out of the room. She did not hear his bodyguards, but knew they had followed silently, disappearing into the shadows. She sat still, frozen. Suddenly the footsteps came rushing back. Van Cleef stuck his head into the room, his eyes blazing. “Stay right here,” he commanded. “Do not move. I expect to see you sitting right in that spot when I return. Do not make a sound. Do not do anything. Just keep at your work.”

And then he was gone again. For an eternity, Laila did as she was told, although there was no way she continue with work. She flung the leather aside and flung herself on the floor on the corner. She closed her eyes and made herself into ice, forcing herself to calm. As she entered into her battle-ready mode she was a snow queen–quiet, pale, and still and listening and concentrating hard, her awareness drifting out of this room and into the next seeking to know what happened.

She heard shouts and then she heard a voice she knew as well as her own. Edmond. She could not hear the words but he was just outside. She stood up slowly and edged her way into the outer room, then flattened herself against the wall. Painfully slowly, she edged towards the door, straining to see whatever she could outside. Finally she reached the threshold, and she peered outside. Edmond and several people dressed in the black of SI:7 were in pitched battle with Van Cleef and his guards. As one woman swiveled, she recognized her old roommate Keryn. They were struggling, but they were holding on, when Laila noticed something. One of Van Cleef’s sneaks was slithering up behind Edmond, having hid herself behind a stack of crates. her knife was raised to stab him through the back of the neck. She knew full well who had betrayed them.

Without even stopping to think, Laila’s hands raised, almost of their own accord. In an instant, the rogue was encased in a block of ice, and in the next instant, ice and rogue burst apart in blast of arcane energies. The recoil from the blast that emanated from her palms knocked Laila back against the opposite wall and she slid to the floor, gasping and fumbling at her side. She raised a flask to her lips, shaking so violently the water flowed over her chin and dribbled onto her gown. She closed her eyes as fire and ice ran through her veins and retreated into herself, chasing it down and calming her boiling blood little by little.

As she returned to herself, she heard footsteps. She kept her eyes closed for one more second, waiting for Van Cleef to yank her off the ground and slit her throat. When nothing happened, she opened them, to see a most welcome sight. Edmond and the SI:7 operatives stood over her. One of them held a cloth bundle that dripped something dark. She stared and tried to feel something. At first there was nothing and then it hit her like a wave, toppling her back against the wall again, limp. It was relief. A relief so strong and deep that it overwhelmed her. Something uncoiled in her. A knot of resentment and anger that had been with her since she was still a baby it seemed. It was strange to feel it unravel and flow away. She had thought it was just another part of her and she would have to get used to it being gone.

She smiled at Edmond, suddenly sleepy. “We did it?” she asked.

“It is done,” he replied. “The head has been cut off and the monster will be flailing for some time. It will take a long time to scour this place clean but that will be up the king. As for us, it is time for us to go home.”

Laila laughed. “And where’s that?”

“Where would you like it to be?”

Laila smiled so big she thought her face would crack, and then she let Edmond pull her up and lead her out into the fresh air at last.