Retribution is at Hand: Chapter 4
4: Dai’suul
The School of Necromancy, Scholomance opened again by order of the Scourge. Ten hooded acolytes drifted in from all corners of the world-all races, all allegiances melted down to a bitter hate of life and relish in undeath.
Scholomance used to be the house of Barov. It looked over Caer Darrow, and for seven years, it looked down on the living. Hooded and masked, hands crossed, the new students walked in a line to the mansion’s gate. They did not hum or talk as they stood, one beside another. They were disciplined. They were dead or very close.
The headmaster, Darkmaster Gandling stood at the balcony overlooking Caer Darrow, and said once they stopped, “You have come here from far and near. You heeded the callings. Why have you come?”
“We came to serve,” they said.
“Why have you come?” He asked again as he laid his hands on the balcony’s wooden fence.
“We came to reshape this land in the shadow.”
“Then enter, and forsake who you were before. Leave blood behind and forsake your kin. You will teeter on the line between life and death. Enter, and be reborn, in the shadow,” he shouted, as his fingers tightened, the wood broke, and the students marched into the mansion.
“Good speech,” a man said as the last student disappeared into the school. “Short, and to the point.”
“I trust you ordered Instructor Malicia to prepare the students?” Darkmaster Gandling asked as the man came and stood by his side.
“It has been done,” he replied. A northern wind swept over them, ruffling their dark lavender robes.
“Then inform me of what Kel’thuzad wishes.”
“The Argent Crusade is putting up a fight in Icecrown, master. Your students are performing well, but Kel’thuzad would like to raise the Scourge’s standards. You will be given two weeks to prepare your pupils to be battle-worthy, and you are granted the keys to a spy ring in Undercity. Our master wants you to steal the Forsaken’s plague and develop an immunity against it,” Grand Necromancer Arcaer said, and he handed the headmaster a blue orb.
“So far, the situation in Northrend goes exactly as planned. Our enemies’ armies are marching closer to Icecrown and the Argent Crusade are setting up a coliseum to prepare their troops for battle. I will be in contact with you from my estate,” he added then, and drew an orb of darker hue. “This will grant your messengers entrance to my tower. What is the situation here?”
“Your brother is a thorn in my side, Arcaer,” the Darkmaster said, glaring at the necromancer.
The necromancer fell silent, and the headmaster continued, “he sabotaged the last graduates’ journey to Northrend with the remains of the Silver Hand and the Argent Dawn. He went into hiding recently, but he will resurface again soon. I want your experiments to bring me a result as well.”
“Is this why you admitted only ten students this semester?”
“Yes,” he answered curtly. “I trust you will handle him and finish soon.”
“I will,” Arcaer said, and he then asked. “What of the Ebon Blade? Are there still other Death Knights loyal to us?”
“Yes, Kel’thuzad shipped most of them to Northrend. There will be two guarding the Scholomance, and one is assigned to guarding your estate.”
“Very well. I take my leave then,” Arcaer said and turned.
“Ralph!” Darkmaster Gandling shouted, and the necromancer halted. “I will not refrain from withdrawing my support if you do not come out with results. I want immunity to our foes’ magic and Icecrown wants it soon.”
“I will,” he whispered, as he left the room.
He walked down a hall, and didn’t notice the acolyte hidden in the shadow, ears pressed against the balcony room’s wall.
As he left the floor, the acolyte came out of the shadow, and smiled.
“That meeting was very short,” Lyrissa said.
“We are men of few words,” Jack replied. They crossed the Thondoril river, and by the time they entered the Eastern Plaguelands, it was midday. Even the waters of the river were tainted, murky and gray. Lyrissa looked to the orange horizon. From the north she saw clouds of fume, and from the east the lands were bare and broken by hills. The ground cracked in drought under her boots, yet Jack’s footsteps were silent.
“I missed several things. Who is Ralph?”
“Ralph Adam Mace,” he said. Lyrissa then waved her hand at him to continue. “He betrayed and defected from Lordaeron two years ago. Before that, we thought him dead.”
“So we’re going to track down agents of the Forsaken to find some artifact called the Mirror?”
“Yes.”
“Where will we track them?”
“I will track them. Sit back and enjoy the show,” he muttered between his teeth.
The…uncouth stoic Orc…
“I can detect presence of the Forsaken,” Lyrissa said. Jack didn’t turn as they walked further east. “That was why I was chosen for this mission-besides my other qualifications.”
“Oh really?” he asked in a high tone, not turning as he knelt down near the edge of the road, where a dry clump of dried grass was.
Lyrissa frowned and pressed her lips together, and then said, “I can find them right now by rearranging Lay Line patterns to where the magic part of the Plague is, and I could also find where Scourge undead are as well.”
“Impressive. Now if you try it, you’ll only see Plaguewood,” he smirked.
“Plaguewood has fungal Plague, not magic Plague. There is a difference,” Lyrissa said.
“And what plague do the Forsaken have?”
She fell silent, and then said, “I am not sure.”
“Then you aren’t very helpful, are you? That isn’t sensing undead, it’s sensing Arcane magic,” He said mockingly as he spread the grass before him. “If you were a paladin or a priest, then you might contribute more.”
“Yes, because Arthas really did make this land all wonderful and pure when he was a paladin, right?” She retorted.
Jack froze, and fell silent. After a while, he stood up, and then turned to look at her with a burning gaze.
“You are pretty snarky, aren’t you?”
“You’re not a good ranger, are you?” She replied, as she pointed with her staff at a distant figure above the hill they were facing. “You missed this.”
On the hill’s cliff, there was a dark red trail of blood seeping into the rock.
“I don’t know about tracking, but blood strikes more action than dried grass,” she said. He turned, and then placed his crossbow on his belt, as he jumped on the cliff and began to climb it.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
He waved his hand at her, and continued climbing, until he reached the spot of blood. He dragged his finger against it. Bits of clotted blood broke against his finger and crumpled into a small shrub. He looked over the cliff and then down to Lyrissa, before he jumped to the ground.
“You could have climbed down,” Lyrissa said, as he emerged from the shrub.
“We need to get out of here,” he said in a horse voice, grabbing her hand and heading further east. They ran down the road, and Lyrissa turned to the cliff. There was nothing there but-Jack?
She stopped and wrestled out her wrist and then the first Jack froze.
“Lyrissa! What are you doing?” Jack shouted from at the cliff. There was another Lyrissa at the bottom of the cliff, silently glaring at her.
Lyrissa reached to the ground with one hand and aimed her other hand at the other Jack-the one that appeared from the shrub. “Don’t move, demon!”
“What are you doing, Lyrissa?” he asked, as he stepped forward.
“I told you, don’t move!” She shouted, before she hurled a sphere of flame at his face.
The imposter disappeared from the path of the magic attack, and appeared behind Lyrissa, placing a dagger at her neck. She froze; the dagger was ice cold and rusty.
“Filthy Lightslayers!” Jack shouted, before drawing his crossbow and shooting the Lyrissa’s imposter, filling her with arrow bolts and turning it to his imposter. “I’m coming!”
“Too late,” said Jack’s imposter, before thrusting the dagger into Lyrissa’s neck.
“That almost hurt,” Lyrissa said. The Lightslayer’s dagger was nothing but a handle, and the metal crumpled into a harmless blob of steel. She kneeled, and a blast of heat shook the Lightslayer. The disguise fell in a heap of ashes, and a Forsaken stood, nursing his burns.
“Here’s a lesson: Never monologue in an attack,” she said, as she turned to him, before tossing two fireballs at his body. He dodged one, but the other hit him on the chest, sending him off the road and into ground as his body began to burn.
With a wave of her hand, Lyrissa put out the fire, and stepped on the Forsaken’s chest, and then asked, “What do you know about the Mirror of Light?”
Jack jumped to the ground, and stuck a dagger into the other Lightslayer’s neck, before he tossed the corpse beside Lyrissa.
The Lightslayer didn’t speak.
“You’re making this harder for yourself.”
“I do not prize life,” he whispered.
“You do prize something,” Jack said. “We could easily drop your corpse at any Scourge stronghold, and then we’ll see how good a soldier you’ll be for Arthas.”
The Forsaken’s eyes widened and his muscles contracted.
“I thought you won’t like it,” Jack said, as he continued. “That’s what we’ll do with your friend as well.”
“We will?” Lyrissa asked. “That’ll be too cruel.”
“There is no cruelty fit for those who yet fight against the crown, long after it has fallen,” Jack said. “What was your name in life?”
The Forsaken didn’t respond.
“You look like someone I know,” Jack said. “Come on. Don’t make me think.”
“William Gold,” the Forsaken spat.
“Old William… Good-for-nothing William who wanted to be one of the Royal Guard?”
“I am Malphas Splitter of Lordaeron now.”
“Listen, William,” Jack said with a chuckle. “You’re dead. The dead have no land or claim. Why shouldn’t I drop you by the Scourge?”
“I have information,” he retorted. “And I will give it to you only if you return me to Undercity.”
“It’s called Lordaeron, filth,” Jack spat.
“You’re acting like a Scarlet Crusader,” Lyrissa said. “We’ll send you back, Malphas. Tell us what you know.”
“You don’t give orders, sorceress,” Jack said.
Lyrissa ignored him, and lifted her foot from Malphas’s chest. “Speak.”
“Give me your word,” he said.
“I give you nothing,” Jack said.
“I give you my word,” Lyrissa said.
“You trust a Forsaken?”
“You wanted to track them. Now the opportunity falls to our hands. Why not seize it?” Lyrissa asked mildly.
“He’ll lead us to an ambush. They always operate like this!”
“If that was true, we were already dead. Malphas, will you give me your word on that all you say is true?”
“I swear by the crown,” he said.
“That’s good enough for me,” Lyrissa said. “Now speak.”
Jack swept away onto the road, crossbow in hand.
“The Mirror is an enchanted thing currently under development by a Scholomance professor. According to our spies, it’s supposed to hide light and render it harmless,” he said.
“The Light?” Lyrissa asked.
“No, just normal light; sunlight, firelight, arcane light,” he said. “The Light’s divine magic is the next step.”
“Where is it being developed?”
“We do not know yet, but we sent a new spy to the Scholomance to investigate. There is a spy that isn’t working for us in there, and I assume they don’t work for Stormwind, or else you would’ve known.”
“No, they don’t. Could be one of the Scarlet Crusade or the Argent Dawn,” Lyrissa said.
Malphas chuckled hoarsely, “The Scarlet Crusade seldom spy these days. Only Undercity is fighting Arthas here. It can only be an Argent Dawn spy.”
Lyrissa was silent, and then she said, “I think I know where to search now. I will hold true to my bargain, Malphas, and I will teleport you to the Bulwark.”
“And my comrade?”
“I will send her as well,” Lyrissa said.
“Thank you, sorceress. You are an honorable person,” he mused, before reaching to a pouch on his side, and drawing a reagent. “You could use this. Selan used magic, and now that she’s dead, this isn’t of use to me.”
“Very well,” Lyrissa took the reagent and placed it on her staff, but Malphas then asked, “Who are you looking for?”
“A paladin,” she said, busy calculating the direction to the Bulwark.
“This land has more paladins than grains of sand,” he said. “Do you have a name?”
“Do you promise me that you will not tell your superiors?”
“I’m starting to like you, sorceress,” he said with a tight smile.
“Jeez…” she muttered. “Farewell.”
“I know Derrick Mace,” he said suddenly. Lyrissa tossed down her staff and the spell broke.
“How do you know his name?”
“We were following you ever since you left Uther’s memorial,” he said. “He is well-known in Undercity.”
Lyrissa didn’t say anything, and Malphas then said, “Unlike your guide, he doesn’t have the attitude of the Scarlet Crusade; he’s a member of the Argent Dawn by everything but name.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Personally? I think he’s the Argent Dawn spy, and the same one supplying our spies with information from within the Scholomance,” he said.
“But you’re not sure.”
“He could also be spying on the Scarlet Crusade. He could be in Northrend for all we know, but if you headed to Light’s Hope Chapel and asked for him-you may get something that’ll help you.”
“I see,” she said. “I’m thankful for you trying to kill us.”
“My pleasure,” he smirked, before Lyrissa spirited them away.
“You spoke with them for far too long,” Jack said. “For assassins, you really are too nice.”
“I got some good information from them,” Lyrissa said.
“Pfft…About what?”
“About the Mirror of Light.”
“We know about the mirror,” he said.
“What? You said we’re tracking them for the artifact!” she exclaimed.
“We are. They know more than they’d say. Even if you spare their life, they’ll tell you only what helps them further their goals. What did he suggest?”
Lyrissa frowned; Jack’s words didn’t strike true to her ears. “Heading to Light’s Hope and inquiring about Derrick Mace. He thinks Mace is your spy in the Scholomance.”
“We have no spy in the Scholomance,” he said. “All spies have been found and every ring was broken. The Scholomance is impossible to infiltrate anymore. We have no spy, and no one we know does.”
“How do the Forsaken know about this, then?” she asked, as they headed further east on the road.
“The same way we know.”
“And what is that?”
“Deserters from the Scourge,” he said, before he froze, eyes wide.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, before widening his stride. “By the Light, you’re useless.”
“Yes, that’s why you were stuck hanging like a monkey by a cliff while I was doing the real work, right?”
“So much for sensing the Forsaken,” he muttered. “They were following us for a whole day and you still prided on your ability to sense them.”
“Shut up.”
The School of Necromancy, Scholomance opened again by order of the Scourge. Ten hooded acolytes drifted in from all corners of the world-all races, all allegiances melted down to a bitter hate of life and relish in undeath.
Scholomance used to be the house of Barov. It looked over Caer Darrow, and for seven years, it looked down on the living. Hooded and masked, hands crossed, the new students walked in a line to the mansion’s gate. They did not hum or talk as they stood, one beside another. They were disciplined. They were dead or very close.
The headmaster, Darkmaster Gandling stood at the balcony overlooking Caer Darrow, and said once they stopped, “You have come here from far and near. You heeded the callings. Why have you come?”
“We came to serve,” they said.
“Why have you come?” He asked again as he laid his hands on the balcony’s wooden fence.
“We came to reshape this land in the shadow.”
“Then enter, and forsake who you were before. Leave blood behind and forsake your kin. You will teeter on the line between life and death. Enter, and be reborn, in the shadow,” he shouted, as his fingers tightened, the wood broke, and the students marched into the mansion.
“Good speech,” a man said as the last student disappeared into the school. “Short, and to the point.”
“I trust you ordered Instructor Malicia to prepare the students?” Darkmaster Gandling asked as the man came and stood by his side.
“It has been done,” he replied. A northern wind swept over them, ruffling their dark lavender robes.
“Then inform me of what Kel’thuzad wishes.”
“The Argent Crusade is putting up a fight in Icecrown, master. Your students are performing well, but Kel’thuzad would like to raise the Scourge’s standards. You will be given two weeks to prepare your pupils to be battle-worthy, and you are granted the keys to a spy ring in Undercity. Our master wants you to steal the Forsaken’s plague and develop an immunity against it,” Grand Necromancer Arcaer said, and he handed the headmaster a blue orb.
“So far, the situation in Northrend goes exactly as planned. Our enemies’ armies are marching closer to Icecrown and the Argent Crusade are setting up a coliseum to prepare their troops for battle. I will be in contact with you from my estate,” he added then, and drew an orb of darker hue. “This will grant your messengers entrance to my tower. What is the situation here?”
“Your brother is a thorn in my side, Arcaer,” the Darkmaster said, glaring at the necromancer.
The necromancer fell silent, and the headmaster continued, “he sabotaged the last graduates’ journey to Northrend with the remains of the Silver Hand and the Argent Dawn. He went into hiding recently, but he will resurface again soon. I want your experiments to bring me a result as well.”
“Is this why you admitted only ten students this semester?”
“Yes,” he answered curtly. “I trust you will handle him and finish soon.”
“I will,” Arcaer said, and he then asked. “What of the Ebon Blade? Are there still other Death Knights loyal to us?”
“Yes, Kel’thuzad shipped most of them to Northrend. There will be two guarding the Scholomance, and one is assigned to guarding your estate.”
“Very well. I take my leave then,” Arcaer said and turned.
“Ralph!” Darkmaster Gandling shouted, and the necromancer halted. “I will not refrain from withdrawing my support if you do not come out with results. I want immunity to our foes’ magic and Icecrown wants it soon.”
“I will,” he whispered, as he left the room.
He walked down a hall, and didn’t notice the acolyte hidden in the shadow, ears pressed against the balcony room’s wall.
As he left the floor, the acolyte came out of the shadow, and smiled.
“That meeting was very short,” Lyrissa said.
“We are men of few words,” Jack replied. They crossed the Thondoril river, and by the time they entered the Eastern Plaguelands, it was midday. Even the waters of the river were tainted, murky and gray. Lyrissa looked to the orange horizon. From the north she saw clouds of fume, and from the east the lands were bare and broken by hills. The ground cracked in drought under her boots, yet Jack’s footsteps were silent.
“I missed several things. Who is Ralph?”
“Ralph Adam Mace,” he said. Lyrissa then waved her hand at him to continue. “He betrayed and defected from Lordaeron two years ago. Before that, we thought him dead.”
“So we’re going to track down agents of the Forsaken to find some artifact called the Mirror?”
“Yes.”
“Where will we track them?”
“I will track them. Sit back and enjoy the show,” he muttered between his teeth.
The…uncouth stoic Orc…
“I can detect presence of the Forsaken,” Lyrissa said. Jack didn’t turn as they walked further east. “That was why I was chosen for this mission-besides my other qualifications.”
“Oh really?” he asked in a high tone, not turning as he knelt down near the edge of the road, where a dry clump of dried grass was.
Lyrissa frowned and pressed her lips together, and then said, “I can find them right now by rearranging Lay Line patterns to where the magic part of the Plague is, and I could also find where Scourge undead are as well.”
“Impressive. Now if you try it, you’ll only see Plaguewood,” he smirked.
“Plaguewood has fungal Plague, not magic Plague. There is a difference,” Lyrissa said.
“And what plague do the Forsaken have?”
She fell silent, and then said, “I am not sure.”
“Then you aren’t very helpful, are you? That isn’t sensing undead, it’s sensing Arcane magic,” He said mockingly as he spread the grass before him. “If you were a paladin or a priest, then you might contribute more.”
“Yes, because Arthas really did make this land all wonderful and pure when he was a paladin, right?” She retorted.
Jack froze, and fell silent. After a while, he stood up, and then turned to look at her with a burning gaze.
“You are pretty snarky, aren’t you?”
“You’re not a good ranger, are you?” She replied, as she pointed with her staff at a distant figure above the hill they were facing. “You missed this.”
On the hill’s cliff, there was a dark red trail of blood seeping into the rock.
“I don’t know about tracking, but blood strikes more action than dried grass,” she said. He turned, and then placed his crossbow on his belt, as he jumped on the cliff and began to climb it.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
He waved his hand at her, and continued climbing, until he reached the spot of blood. He dragged his finger against it. Bits of clotted blood broke against his finger and crumpled into a small shrub. He looked over the cliff and then down to Lyrissa, before he jumped to the ground.
“You could have climbed down,” Lyrissa said, as he emerged from the shrub.
“We need to get out of here,” he said in a horse voice, grabbing her hand and heading further east. They ran down the road, and Lyrissa turned to the cliff. There was nothing there but-Jack?
She stopped and wrestled out her wrist and then the first Jack froze.
“Lyrissa! What are you doing?” Jack shouted from at the cliff. There was another Lyrissa at the bottom of the cliff, silently glaring at her.
Lyrissa reached to the ground with one hand and aimed her other hand at the other Jack-the one that appeared from the shrub. “Don’t move, demon!”
“What are you doing, Lyrissa?” he asked, as he stepped forward.
“I told you, don’t move!” She shouted, before she hurled a sphere of flame at his face.
The imposter disappeared from the path of the magic attack, and appeared behind Lyrissa, placing a dagger at her neck. She froze; the dagger was ice cold and rusty.
“Filthy Lightslayers!” Jack shouted, before drawing his crossbow and shooting the Lyrissa’s imposter, filling her with arrow bolts and turning it to his imposter. “I’m coming!”
“Too late,” said Jack’s imposter, before thrusting the dagger into Lyrissa’s neck.
“That almost hurt,” Lyrissa said. The Lightslayer’s dagger was nothing but a handle, and the metal crumpled into a harmless blob of steel. She kneeled, and a blast of heat shook the Lightslayer. The disguise fell in a heap of ashes, and a Forsaken stood, nursing his burns.
“Here’s a lesson: Never monologue in an attack,” she said, as she turned to him, before tossing two fireballs at his body. He dodged one, but the other hit him on the chest, sending him off the road and into ground as his body began to burn.
With a wave of her hand, Lyrissa put out the fire, and stepped on the Forsaken’s chest, and then asked, “What do you know about the Mirror of Light?”
Jack jumped to the ground, and stuck a dagger into the other Lightslayer’s neck, before he tossed the corpse beside Lyrissa.
The Lightslayer didn’t speak.
“You’re making this harder for yourself.”
“I do not prize life,” he whispered.
“You do prize something,” Jack said. “We could easily drop your corpse at any Scourge stronghold, and then we’ll see how good a soldier you’ll be for Arthas.”
The Forsaken’s eyes widened and his muscles contracted.
“I thought you won’t like it,” Jack said, as he continued. “That’s what we’ll do with your friend as well.”
“We will?” Lyrissa asked. “That’ll be too cruel.”
“There is no cruelty fit for those who yet fight against the crown, long after it has fallen,” Jack said. “What was your name in life?”
The Forsaken didn’t respond.
“You look like someone I know,” Jack said. “Come on. Don’t make me think.”
“William Gold,” the Forsaken spat.
“Old William… Good-for-nothing William who wanted to be one of the Royal Guard?”
“I am Malphas Splitter of Lordaeron now.”
“Listen, William,” Jack said with a chuckle. “You’re dead. The dead have no land or claim. Why shouldn’t I drop you by the Scourge?”
“I have information,” he retorted. “And I will give it to you only if you return me to Undercity.”
“It’s called Lordaeron, filth,” Jack spat.
“You’re acting like a Scarlet Crusader,” Lyrissa said. “We’ll send you back, Malphas. Tell us what you know.”
“You don’t give orders, sorceress,” Jack said.
Lyrissa ignored him, and lifted her foot from Malphas’s chest. “Speak.”
“Give me your word,” he said.
“I give you nothing,” Jack said.
“I give you my word,” Lyrissa said.
“You trust a Forsaken?”
“You wanted to track them. Now the opportunity falls to our hands. Why not seize it?” Lyrissa asked mildly.
“He’ll lead us to an ambush. They always operate like this!”
“If that was true, we were already dead. Malphas, will you give me your word on that all you say is true?”
“I swear by the crown,” he said.
“That’s good enough for me,” Lyrissa said. “Now speak.”
Jack swept away onto the road, crossbow in hand.
“The Mirror is an enchanted thing currently under development by a Scholomance professor. According to our spies, it’s supposed to hide light and render it harmless,” he said.
“The Light?” Lyrissa asked.
“No, just normal light; sunlight, firelight, arcane light,” he said. “The Light’s divine magic is the next step.”
“Where is it being developed?”
“We do not know yet, but we sent a new spy to the Scholomance to investigate. There is a spy that isn’t working for us in there, and I assume they don’t work for Stormwind, or else you would’ve known.”
“No, they don’t. Could be one of the Scarlet Crusade or the Argent Dawn,” Lyrissa said.
Malphas chuckled hoarsely, “The Scarlet Crusade seldom spy these days. Only Undercity is fighting Arthas here. It can only be an Argent Dawn spy.”
Lyrissa was silent, and then she said, “I think I know where to search now. I will hold true to my bargain, Malphas, and I will teleport you to the Bulwark.”
“And my comrade?”
“I will send her as well,” Lyrissa said.
“Thank you, sorceress. You are an honorable person,” he mused, before reaching to a pouch on his side, and drawing a reagent. “You could use this. Selan used magic, and now that she’s dead, this isn’t of use to me.”
“Very well,” Lyrissa took the reagent and placed it on her staff, but Malphas then asked, “Who are you looking for?”
“A paladin,” she said, busy calculating the direction to the Bulwark.
“This land has more paladins than grains of sand,” he said. “Do you have a name?”
“Do you promise me that you will not tell your superiors?”
“I’m starting to like you, sorceress,” he said with a tight smile.
“Jeez…” she muttered. “Farewell.”
“I know Derrick Mace,” he said suddenly. Lyrissa tossed down her staff and the spell broke.
“How do you know his name?”
“We were following you ever since you left Uther’s memorial,” he said. “He is well-known in Undercity.”
Lyrissa didn’t say anything, and Malphas then said, “Unlike your guide, he doesn’t have the attitude of the Scarlet Crusade; he’s a member of the Argent Dawn by everything but name.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Personally? I think he’s the Argent Dawn spy, and the same one supplying our spies with information from within the Scholomance,” he said.
“But you’re not sure.”
“He could also be spying on the Scarlet Crusade. He could be in Northrend for all we know, but if you headed to Light’s Hope Chapel and asked for him-you may get something that’ll help you.”
“I see,” she said. “I’m thankful for you trying to kill us.”
“My pleasure,” he smirked, before Lyrissa spirited them away.
“You spoke with them for far too long,” Jack said. “For assassins, you really are too nice.”
“I got some good information from them,” Lyrissa said.
“Pfft…About what?”
“About the Mirror of Light.”
“We know about the mirror,” he said.
“What? You said we’re tracking them for the artifact!” she exclaimed.
“We are. They know more than they’d say. Even if you spare their life, they’ll tell you only what helps them further their goals. What did he suggest?”
Lyrissa frowned; Jack’s words didn’t strike true to her ears. “Heading to Light’s Hope and inquiring about Derrick Mace. He thinks Mace is your spy in the Scholomance.”
“We have no spy in the Scholomance,” he said. “All spies have been found and every ring was broken. The Scholomance is impossible to infiltrate anymore. We have no spy, and no one we know does.”
“How do the Forsaken know about this, then?” she asked, as they headed further east on the road.
“The same way we know.”
“And what is that?”
“Deserters from the Scourge,” he said, before he froze, eyes wide.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said, before widening his stride. “By the Light, you’re useless.”
“Yes, that’s why you were stuck hanging like a monkey by a cliff while I was doing the real work, right?”
“So much for sensing the Forsaken,” he muttered. “They were following us for a whole day and you still prided on your ability to sense them.”
“Shut up.”