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The Staff of Winter
Arrival
The suns rays fell upon the white snowy hills of Dun Morogh, small birds flew from tree to tree as they fed their young, safe in their nests.
Light grey coloured boar snuffled as they pushed their snouts deep into the snow looking for small rodents and white rabbits bounced along the path, stopping every so often to sniff the air, their long ears flat against their bodies.
A small trogg walked, flat footed towards the unfrozen centre of Helms Bed Lake dragging his net behind him, thin wisps of grey smoke started to rise from the camp behind him as Dun Morogh came alive.
He gathered his net at the waters edge and cast it in the blue water, the net slowly sank under the surface as the puzzled trogg looked around uneasily, he stuck his finger in one ear and wiggled it furiously.
All was quiet, the wildlife of Dun Morogh had stopped what it was doing and stood still, all were listening.
A crash and a white cloud of snow startled the trogg as a large hare burst from the undergrowth and shot across the icy surface of the lake to his left, its tiny claws finding purchase in the hard ice; he bounded up the opposite bank and flew into the undergrowth.
A ‘plop’ by his feet made him look down; a small fish lay on the surface of the water completely encased in ice, a second, a third came to the surface, clear tendrils of water started to climb slowly out of the water and over the edge of the ice running over his feet.
Overcome by fear the trogg turned to run back to the village, the tendrils wrapped around his legs and slowly pulled the screaming trogg into and under the water.
A white gnarled wooden staff rose slowly from the water, the head, a ring of thorns held a deep blue stone surrounded by a glowing aurora, the stone moved within the ring, pulsating like a heart beat.
Wrapped around the staff was a hand, the fleshless fingers gripped the staff tightly as the necromancer rose out of the water.
“Let it begin!” he said, his white teeth sparkled in the morning sun as he pointed the staff to the clear blue sky, the staff quivered as a black mist formed around its head, growing in intensity, the necromancer pulled his arm back, then thrust the staff towards the sky.
With a loud whoosh, the black ball sped skyward then exploded into a small black cloud that started to expand.
“Soon….soon,” he growled as he turned and walked slowly towards the mountains
Chapter One
The Storm
“STUMPISH? …STUMPISH, oh for the life of me, WHERE ARE YE?”
Her hair as white as the snow that covered the ground, Maggie Glasen stood in the doorway of the Pickled boar, a small stone Inn in Kharanos, looking out into the hills of Dun Morogh
“I’M COMMIN MAM,” Stumpish shouted down the hill that led to the inn, he stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow, his sled was weighed down with wood that he had collected from the forest that morning.
He reached round into his bag, took out his flask and pulled the cork with his teeth.
The liquor warmed him from the inside and gave him a pleasant buzz, he looked up at the clouds and sniffed the air, the forest creatures had been quiet all morning, which gave him a sense of unease and an acidic taint to the air told him that a storm was on its way
“I’LL BET YA’LL BE SUCKING ON THAT FLASK AS A CALF DRINKS FROM A COW,” she shouted.
He shook his head slowly and laughed as he took another swig from the flask and swallowed hard, he had almost reached the top of the hill, one last push and the runners of the sled sat precariously over the edge of a steep downward slope.
Stumpish looked over the edge, the Inn was the size of his thumbnail sitting at the bottom of the hill, this was by far the best part of collecting wood for the fire.
He strapped the wood onto the sled tight and moved the back round a little, aiming the sled for the five bar gate by the side of the building.
Jimmy came up behind Maggie and grabbed her from behind making her jump, “what ya are shoutin at now woman?” he said laughing.
“Our son, who or what else?” she replied, “now get ya wanderin hands offa me ya old fool,” playfully slapping his hands, “some of us have got work tae do, this Inn don’t run itself ya know.”
Stumpish looked up at the sled then down at the Inn, “Ok then,” he thought to himself and jumped up on top of the wood, straddling it like a rocket, he leant forward and then back, starting a slight rocking motion.
The hard snow under the runners gave a little and the sled started to move, slowly at first but picking up speed as it slid down the slope, the cold wind blew through his ginger hair and the falling snow stung his eyes but blood and liquor raced through his veins.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed at the top of his voice.
Maggie and her husband Jimmy stood by the gate watching the sled on its downward journey, “he’s at it again,” she sighed.
“Aye,” Jimmy replied, “where do ya think he’ll end up this time?”
“The pond,” she said looking over at the frozen pond by the woodpile, “he is gonna get wet again, I’ll get some clothes ready.”
“Nooo, the angle is wrong; “Jimmy said squinting at the rapidly oncoming sled he’ll hit the snow bank no doubt,” Maggie and Jimmy walked up to and sat on the bench at the side of the track with a steaming drink in their hand.
“The usual bet?” he asked.
“Aye,” Maggie replied, reaching into her apron, she pulled out a bronze coin and laid it on her lap, Jimmy’s coin joined it.
The sled thundered down the slope with the speed of a galloping horse, “GEEEERONIMOOOOOOOOOOOO,” Stumpish was sitting bolt upright with his hands in the air when he felt the sled give a little on one side, “Uh Oh,” he said as he looked down at the right hand runner. A loud ‘crack’ like the shot from a rifle bounced of the surrounding hills as a runner support gave way.
Maggie and Jimmy watched the sled shoot by just as the runner collapsed and dug into the packed snow stopping the sled almost dead in its tracks.
The back of the sled shot up sharply in a perfect arc catapulting Stumpish towards and into the snow bank like a bullet, burying him headfirst up to his waist and leaving his little legs protruding.
They looked at each other and laughed in unison, “He’ll kill himself one day,” Maggie said chuckling as she stood then walked towards the Inn, “don’t be too long with him Jimmy,” she sang, “he’s got chores tae do.”
Jimmy crawled over to the snow bank, his stomach hurting as he laughed, his eyes wet with tears, he grabbed Stumpish’s ankles and pulled sharply, his son slid out of the hole and landed on his face in the soft snow giggling.
“Come on ye young Yeti, ya mam wants ye tae go tae Ironforge and take the silk tae Bubulo in Tinkerstown.
“But pa, I was gonna meet Whitehorse today, canna not take the silk tomorrow?”
Whitehorse was a good friend of the family who worked in Ironforge in the Stoneskin tavern, a watering hole, popular with his dwarven warrior friends, Stumpish would never admit it but it was clear he harboured deep feelings for her.
“Not if you wanna see the sunset tonight son,” Jimmy said slapping Stumpish on his back laughing, “ya mam will get mean if she trips over the bundles again, anyway Whitehorse is workin today.” He slipped his son a sly wink, smiled then walked back to the Inn.
“Can I no take Fillie wi me?” Stumpish pointed to the old barn, “Those bales are proper heavy.”
Jimmy smiled, “Aye ye may, but take care of the old girl, she’s no as young as she used to be.”
Stumpish walked up to the barn doors and kicked away the fresh powdered snow that had been blown up against them, the ice crystals caught by the breeze, flew around and stuck to his long fur pants, he pulled on the door which shuddered then swung open with a loud groan.
Fillie looked up then trotted over to him, her nose in the air searching for the scent she loved, Stumpish held out his hand, a deep red apple sat in his palm.
He had taken it out of the fruit bowl Maggie had reserved for paying guests, the climate in Dun Morogh was not kind to fruit trees so Maggie had to have fruit shipped from Stranglethorn vale.
“Don’t ya go telling me mam where I got this from,” he whispered, “ya don’t get many of these around here.”
Fillie gently took the apple from his hand and chewed eagerly, Stumpish stroked the side of her face, the coarse hair rough against his fingers.
“Are ye feelin fit today old girl,” he said softly, “we got a little trip to Ironforge today,”
Fillie bowed her head and softly butt his chest, “work first, play later,” Stumpish laughed, the inside of the barn steadily darkened as the sun was slowly covered by a black cloud.
They both walked to the door and looked up; Stumpish pulled the ram to him and hugged her neck tightly.
“We best wrap up,” he said, “This dose’na look too good.”
He walked to the corner and pulled open the top of an old trunk, he reached inside and took a red and gold coloured blanket, it was ornately embroidered with the crest of Ironforge sitting proudly in the middle flanked by four dragonheads.
“Aye, this will do, nothing is too good for me old Fillie,” he laughed; Fillie trotted over and shook her head in appreciation.
Stumpish lay the blanket over her back then picked up the silk bales which he gently placed either side of her flank, the leather harness distributing the weight over her back.
Day had been turned into night, the black clouds covered the sky and the sun was nowhere to be seen, strong winds rattled the big door, Stumpish took a torch and let it soak in a pail of oil while he rummaged in a chest for a small pot.
“We gonna need some light tae see by,” his muffled voice coming from the chest, “Ah ha!” he cried triumphantly, he crawled back out of the chest and dipped the small pot in the oil, he winked at Fillie, “Just in case,” he said.
They walked to the door and stopped, black clouds rolled quickly across the sky as if they were being pursued by their greatest fear, lightning flashed behind them showing their outline and turning the snowy landscape an azure blue momentarily.
“Aye, this is gonna be bad,” he said quietly, Stumpish pulled his big floppy hat down over his eyes and hunched his shoulders as they walked out into the darkness.
The wind had made the metal of the brazier glow a bright red as the wind force-fed the hot embers with oxygen; he laid the torch over the brazier and the oil soaked cloth caught instantly.
Torch in one hand and Fillies harness in the other they stepped out onto the road, the welcoming yellow glow from the windows of the houses sparked a little jealousy inside him.
“Ya know what we need Fillie?” he shouted, “We need a song, Aye, a happy song to walk tae.” He took a big swig from his flask, thought for a second then burst into song.
“OOOOOO we’re goin tae Ironforge town.”
“We’re goin tae Ironforge town, town, town, town.”
“No matter what the weather,”
“As long as we’re together,”
“We’re goin tae Ironforge town.”
“And while we’re in Ironforge town,”
“We’ll visit the Stoneskin tavern.”
“We’re gonna see ma little lassie.”
“Who’s just a little sassy.”
“And then we’ll all get drunk and fall downnnnn.”
“HA HA HA HA HA!”
The road from Kharanos to Ironforge was open to the elements that allowed the wind the freedom to assault all in its path, a blinding flash of light, a crash of thunder stopped Fillie in her tracks and caused her to bray loudly, even Stumpish became anxious.
“Come on me beauty, we are almost at tha bridge now, not much further girl.”
The small wooden bridge, which crossed the frozen brook, had seen better days and although it was repaired regularly, a large crack had appeared in one of the planks in its span and the falling snow had covered this.
Stumpish looked back at Fillie, the temperature had fallen drastically since they had left Kharanos and the thick snow had crystallised into very small shards of ice.
Fillie’s thick eyelashes were no match for the ice and wind.
He looked up with his hand across his forehead protecting his eyes, the dull yellow lights of Ironforge glowed faintly through the thick driving ice, he pulled Fillie to a small copse of trees and once inside he removed his hat, two swipes of his knife had cut away the sides of the brim.
“Here ya go girl,” he said quietly, he put the hat over Fillies head and tied it under her neck, he took his flask and filled his mouth before swallowing hard, Fillie opened her mouth too.
“Ok then” he said as he tipped a small amount onto her tongue, “now dontcha go sayin what I done here today, some would say old Stumpish is goin soft,” he stroked the side of her muzzle before tugging on her harness, bowing his head and pushing out into the ice rain.
The cold had started to penetrate his clothing, the warming effects of the liquor nullified by the relentless onslaught of the freezing wind, his hands and feet now totally numb, he stepped onto the bridge and smiled, just off of the bridge was the hill up to Ironforge, one last pull and they would be sitting by a roaring fire in the Stoneskin arms, supping warm liquor.
“Come on me darling,” he said, “just a little bit…” a loud crack filled the air as the plank Stumpish had stood on gave way, he lost his balance and fell to one side, his head hit a post and knocked him unconscious, Fillie looked down at her master and brayed mournfully.
She backed up and pulled, her harness had tightened around his wrist and as she pulled harder his little body slid on the surface of the snow and ice, his leg followed him out of the hole.
Fillie knew the road to Ironforge well and continued walking backwards dragging the unconscious Stumpish along.
Chapter Three
Making Acquaintances
The young warlock sat with his legs astride the golden coloured griffin, his knuckles white as he held the reins tight, the griffin flew toward a solid wall of rock then gained altitude rapidly.
It cleared the peak by inches and flew down, close to the mountains side, its clawed feet grazing the tops of the mountain pines as it turned and swooped.
Airamos bowed his head and shut his eyes tight regretting his decision to stop over at Ironforge for the night but glad as he could see the mountain stronghold getting ever closer.
A warm blast of air on his face prompted him to open his eyes, the griffin had passed through the main entrance and had flown over the commons, the long river of molten metal provided the heat within the dwarven city.
Airamos ducked down as the griffin flew through a large vent in the wall and into the great forge, twisting and turning around the giant crucibles out of which pure molten metal poured continuously.
There was a small bump as the griffin came to rest, a heavy hand tapped his knee and Airamos opened his eyes.
“First time huh?” the flight master said smiling, “ye can let go now sonny.”
Airamos blushed a little as he dismounted the large beast, “would you know of an inn where a weary traveller could lay his head for the night?”
“An inn ya say?” the flight master pulled a dead rat from a wooden box and threw it towards the griffin, with a guttural growl the griffin swung its head and caught it in its yellow beak.
“Aye, Whitehorse, she runs the Stoneskin tavern and will give ya a bed for the night,” he pointed towards a large arch, “ through there, cross the commons, over the bridge, left and its on ya right just past the gate, ya canna miss it.”
Airamos thanked the flight master and walked towards the arch, the heat from the forge was making his robe steam gently as it had already melted the thinly packed snow that had coated it.
After crossing the bridge he looked up and saw the sign swinging gently outside the tavern, the muffled sound of singing came from the direction of the door.
He pushed on the door and walked in, the steady thump, thump, thump of tankards on the wooden tables kept all in time with the singing, the words were a language he did not understand, two masked rouges looked up as he passed then carried on their secret conversation.
A young female night elf stood motionless by a large window with one hand on the long drapes as if to close them, her long blue hair spilled over her shoulders which rose and fell with each breath, Airamos walked up to her and spoke softly.
“Excuse me but would there be a bed here for this night, this weather has put paid to my journey to the plague lands,” the young warlock said.
Whitehorse stood looking out of the window mesmerised by the ice bouncing off the glass.
“Excuse me, Miss Whitehorse?” He raised his voice a little, attempting to catch her attention; she looked over her shoulder and Airamos waved shyly.
“Oh, my apologies sir, I was a league away, what may I get you?”
“Warm rams milk and some honey bread thank you,” he said.
The bar went silent as all of the dwarves turned to look his way.
“Warmed liquored rams milk coming right up,” she said loudly, Airamos opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger to her mouth and shook her head, she walked behind the counter, leant on it and smiled.
“Warm rams milk it will be,” she said, “but remember, if anyone asks? It has liquor in it; the dwarves around here do not trust anyone who does not drink.”
She held out her hand, Airamos took it and shook it gently loosing himself in her dark blue eyes, “Airamos.” He said almost too quickly
“Whitehorse.” She replied and then smiled broadly, “I need my hand to get you your drink?”
Airamos flushed as he realised he was still shaking Whitehorse’s hand, “go sit by the fire Airamos and I will bring your order, we have a bed upstairs and it will be two gold pieces for one night, Oh… and no…I do not come with it.” She said laughing.
Airamos flushed deeper and stammered, “ I..I..I didn’t mean it that way.”
Whitehorse looked into his eyes and smiled “a breath of fresh air, a gentleman? My…you are certainly not from here,” she said, “it’s all they think about,” she nodded to the dwarves in the tavern then quickly swung her head to the window, “Did you hear…” she stopped mid sentence and shook her head, “no…no…it’s probably the wind through the trees.”
Airamos looked toward the window and made his way there; he peered through the glass.
The flames of the torches that lined the hill to the main gate of the city flickered in the wind, casting dark shadows across the path.
“Brrawwwww,” a very faint sound pushed its way through the storm, Airamos screwed up his eyes as, the dark figure of what looked like some kind of beast was pulling a bundle of something up the hill.
“Brrawwwwwwww!” the sound came again, louder this time due to a small dip in the wind, “a ram? A mountain ram?” Airamos scratched his head and wiped the window with his sleeve, “A mountain ram…in a hat?”
Whitehorse joined Airamos at the window just as a blue flash of lightning lit up the path, “What is Fillie doing out in this weather?” Whitehorse asked herself.
“Fillie?” Airamos looked confused
“Stumpys ram.”
Airamos looked even more confused.
Another flash lit up four other shapes moving slowly towards the bundle, four Frostmain wolves were following closely.
“They are going to attack the ram!” she said loudly.
Airamos lay his hand on Whitehorse’s shoulder, “Fear not Whitehorse, I will help the ram.”
“Not on your own you wont,” she said, “Come on…and the first one I see going behind the bar to help their selves while I have gone…I will cut their fingers off!” she shouted as she ran for the door.
“NUTS!” said a dwarf hardly able to stand then falling on the floor by the end of the bar.
“AYE…THOSE AS WELL!” She shouted.
A loud cheer filled the room as the couple ran out and headed for the gate.
“They are not coming to help?” Airamos questioned
“You don’t know your dwarves very well,” she said glancing back.
As they ran past a guard at the main gate, Whitehorse reached out and grabbed his sword from him.
“Hey lassie, ya canna do that!” he protested but stayed at his post, the weather was too bad for anything but the horde.
The wind had picked up and the slithers of ice stung their skin as they ran down the path to Fillie, Airamos stopped and held his hands in the air, a purple fountain of light flew from his fingers and hit the ground in a circle around his feet, seconds later a small imp materialised.
Airamos pointed to the wolves, the imp nodded and ran towards them Whitehorse had reached the first and swung her sword in a downward arc, the injured wolf jumped back then fled yelping loudly.
Two well-placed firebolts quickly dispatched two more; they fell to the ground where they stood, the rancid smell of singed hair blown clear by the wind.
Airamos stood by Fillie and took the harness as Whitehorse knelt down to check the bundle, the hair was matted with snow and blood but the nose was unmistakable.
“STUMPY? Quick…help me get him inside,” she took him by the shoulders, “hold his legs!” she ordered.
Airamos looked up and over her shoulder, a large white wolf was running towards them, teeth bared, growling and snarling.
“This is going to take more than Zub Zub,” he said rubbing his hands together, a small ball of incandescent purple light formed then flew over Whitehorse’s shoulder and hit the wolf square in the chest, the force of impact pushed the wolf back and over the edge of the path, the corpse crashing into the trees and bushes below.
They carried the unconscious dwarf past the guard at the front gate, “Come and get your sword from the Stoneskin tavern, there will be a flagon of liquor sitting beside it when you are ready.” She puffed.
The guard nodded his approval then turned to face the gate not moving from his position.
They crashed through the doors and threw Stumpish onto a tabletop scattering glasses, food and dwarves alike over the floor, Fillie trotted over to the corner and nibbled on the drapes.
Two dwarves emerged red faced from behind the bar, “Ok if you help me with Stumpish, it’s free liquor for all!” she shouted.
The dwarves cheered then rallied around, “what will ye have us do Whitehorse?” said one.
“He is chilled and needs warming, I need blankets from the rooms, you and …you, go to the kings’ room and strip the bed, they are the warmest blankets.”
“I get tae sit on his face!” said another laughing.
“Ya sit on me face I’ll bite ya bum,” Stumpish said drowsily, “where’s me chalice Whitehorse, I need a drink girl.”
Whitehorse reached into her apron and threw a key at one of the dwarves, “Deg, go to the chest behind the bar, get the Dark Iron rum,” the room went quiet, even Stumpish looked shocked.
“Girl, ya know that’s stuff is illegal,” he picked up a stray chicken leg from the table and threw it at a dwarf closest to the door, the dwarf slammed the door shut and slid the bolt across locking it tight.
Deg walked slowly across the floor with a large dusty bottle in his arms, the room was silent in quiet reverence for what was considered the brew to end all brews.
It was illegal as you could only obtain it by trading with the dark iron dwarves from Northrend.
Stumpish looked on wide-eyed as she poured a small amount of the black liquid into a small cup and handed it to him.
Stumpish lifted the cup to his lips, closed his eyes and tipped the contents down his throat, his eyes watered as his face went a dark red, a hacking cough was followed by a loud belch, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up at Whitehorse.
“That stuff will kill ya,” then smiled and shouted, “POUR ME ANOTHER!”
Whitehorse handed the bottle to Airamos, “just pour him a small one,” she said smiling.
Chapter Three
Battle plans
The mountaineer walked like a ghost towards the main gates of Ironforge, in his trembling hand he clutched a scroll, he staggered towards a guard before falling to the ground, “get… this… tae… the… king!” his dying words came in short sharp bursts, he opened his hand just as his blood froze in his veins.
The king, Magni Bronzebeard, surveyed the scroll; it demanded a total and unconditional surrender of Ironforge and associated lands.
“How can this be?” his face set as the anger rose inside him then his fist slammed down on the table, he spoke through gritted teeth.
Dun Morogh, which was surrounded by impenetrable mountains and was only accessible by the two passes, would allow the scourge a major foothold in the eastern isles.
“Send word throughout the land!” he ordered as he walked to a wall-sized map of his kingdom, “Dun Morogh is our home, and we will allow no scourge minion here…EVER!”
The necromancer stood by the altar of ice, the storm had reached its peak and shards of ice covered the soft snows, he swung his staff in an arc before him then slammed the end into the frozen ground.
His eyes blazed as the shards gathered into a small pile as if magnetised, slowly at first but gathering in speed, slotting together into a bipedal warrior.
One, and then another, the trees shook as the shards fell to the floor and gathered, warrior after warrior formed and stood silently, their gaze fixed on the necromancer.
“Go my children, fulfil our masters desire, GO! RAVAGE THIS LAND, LET NO LIVING THING SURVIVE!”
The army turned away from the altar and marched out through the snowy landscape towards its capital.
Airamos woke to a frantic hammering on the door of the inn, he slid the bolt back and pulled the heavy oak door towards him, dwarven warriors were running past and gathering in the commons.
The king stood on a platform and addressed his army.
“My fellow dwarves, for countless years we have called this place home, we have lived…we have fought and we have died…we have hewn this great city out of solid rock. Our fathers, their fathers, and their fathers before them gave their lives to ensure our safety…but today…that safety is threatened.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd.
“An evil has invaded our land; beings of ice are marching on the city…OUR CITY!”
The murmur grew into a buzz of angry voices.
Stumpish and Whitehorse stood by Airamos in the doorway of the inn as the king continued.
“THIS…” the king held the scroll above his head, “this demands we lay down our arms or face annihilation!”
The buzz grew into a low roar.
The king lifted his hand and the crowd fell silent. “So I put it tae you my subjects…no,” the king shook his head slowly, “my brothers…are we…the dwarves of Ironforge…tae be bullied out of our city…our land… ARE WE TO BE FORCED FROM OUR HOME?”
“NO…NO…NO!” the crowd chanted.
“WE WILL… MEET THIS THREAT HEAD ON!” he held his shield above his head, “WE WILL… CUT OUR WAY THROUGH THIS ARMY OF ICE!” he slammed the hilt of his sword against his shield.
“AND WE WILL…WE WILL…WE WILL BE VICORIOUS!”
A loud cheer, the stamping of feet and the metallic rings of hilts hitting shields filled the commons.
The king stood down from the platform and mounted his ram, it brayed loudly as he pulled back on its bridle.
“BROTHERS, LET IT BE WRITTEN, LET IT BE KNOWN…LET IT BE KNOWN THAT THE DWARVES OF IRONFORGE ALTHOUGH SHORT IN STATURE…STAND TALL IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY!
THIS DAY… WE MARCH…WE MARCH INTAE BATTLE…THIS DAY…WE MARCH INTAE HISTORY!”
The dwarven army responded, their cheering and battle cries filled the commons making doors and walls alike vibrate.
A metallic ‘clang’ behind Airamos and Whitehorse turned their heads, Stumpish stood in full armour.
“So what ye waitin for, an invite?” he said laughing, “let go and kick scourge butt, or do ye wanna live forever?”
The storm had died and the warming rays of the sun fell upon the crisp snows of Dun Morogh, the king stood over a map with his generals studying the area.
“Sire. Our scouts have found the location of a necromancer…here.” General Muren Stormpike pointed at the map, “but…” he paused sighing, “this army is like no other.”
“Explain!” said the king not looking up.
“The report shows that these beings are made of small ice shards, one swipe of our swords will shatter them like glass but they reform, so… as we push forward… they reform behind us then attack from the rear. There’s a powerful shadow magic that controls them.”
The king looked up from the map, “the source of this magic?”
“We believe it comes from the necromancer sire.”
“Then we push forward and destroy the source!” General Borim Goldhammer reached for his sword, “I will muster the men sire, a concerted push will…”
“Ya men will die before you reach the source Borim,” Muren shook his head sadly, “Ye’ll get surrounded, these beings know no pain, they never tire, they resist our most powerful magi, our hunters pets are turned to ice when they attack, men that have come into contact with them suffer the same fate”
“Then how?” Borim thrust his sword into the snow. “We can’t just give up…I won’t just give up,” he snarled.
“If I may sire?” Airamos stood in the entrance of the tent.
“What do ye want? Can’t ya see we are busy?” Borim spat.
The king raised his hand, “What can I do for ye, warlock?”
Airamos took a deep breath, “Sire, by its very nature, ice by volume can bend steel, even reshape mountains over time… but it cannot tolerate common salt.”
Borim slapped the side of his head and laughed mockingly, “Of course,” he said, “we just drop our swords, bows and guns, and give our troops salt cellars.” Muren and the other Generals joined in the laughter.
The king however, did not; he stood looking down at the map, “gentlemen! The warlock may have the answer!”
The laughing stopped, “Ye canna be serious Sire, this fool is gonna get us all turned tae ice!”
The king raised his hand again, “how would you deliver your killing blow warlo….what is your name son,”
“Airamos sire. May I see the map?”
The king motioned Airamos inside, “our scouts place three groups, here…here and here, the necromancer is here,” the king stabbed at the map with his finger, our scholars tell us that if we remove the necromancer, the frost beings will fall, he is the power that holds them together, so Airamos, what’s ya plan?”
“Sire, your warriors are suffering at their hands because of close proximity, change to ranged, arm your hunters and warriors with shotguns, compress rough salt with a small amount of blasting powder and replace the shot in your existing shells.”
“Gribble!” the king barked, a small gnome appeared, “The bullets? How long?”
“Within the hour sire,” he squeaked.
The king nodded thoughtfully, “so that deals with the beings, what about the necromancer? While he lives… the beings recreate”
“I will need 20 of your men for protection and to cover the entrance of the cave while I kill the necromancer sire.”
Borim walked over to Airamos and slapped him on the back, “and who ya gonna find crazy enough to go with ye? Ya gonna need more than ya minion warlock,”
Stumpish and Whitehorse walked into the tent. “The crazy ones be us,” said Stumpish.
“And the woman?” Borim laughed scornfully.
Whitehorse looked disapprovingly at the general, “General, you are a man and have the courage of a lion, or so I have heard,”
“Aye there is none braver.” Borim replied.
Whitehorse threw a pinecone to him; he caught it then looked at her, a bemused look on his face.
“Balance that on your head by the base of that tree, 200 yards yonder,” she said smiling.
Borim’s skin lightened a shade.
“Aye, you question her prowess in battle…she questions your bravery, seems like a fair trade, what say you Borim, do you take the challenge?” The king laughed
Borim scowled at Whitehorse, “Aye…I take the challenge.” He stomped out of the tent, took up position and balanced the cone on his head.
“Three tae one!” Stumpish laughed, “Do ya party piece girl.”
The king looked puzzled, “party piece?”
“Aye, three ricochets and hit the target.”
Borim’s face dropped, the king burst out laughing, “Aye I’ll allow it, shoot true young lady.”
Whitehorse took aim and squeezed the trigger; the muzzle jumped as the bullet sped towards its first target, Borim closed his eyes.
A grey gouge appeared in the rock face with a puff of dust as the bullet changed direction, a loud clang signalled its second change of direction as it glanced off a shield that had been propped up against a tree trunk.
The bullet sped on and up at an acute angle, straight through the stem of another cone hanging in the tree, the cone fell and knocked Borim’s cone from his head.
Visibly relieved Borim laughed, “Ya missed girly.”
Whitehorse smiled sweetly, “I was aiming for the cone in the tree… and I never said I was going to shoot the cone from your head.”
Borim scowled once more, and marched over to Whitehorse, and growled, “I’ll tell ya one thing and one thing only girl,” his face broke into a smile, “I will walk intae battle with you anytime.”
“Then get ya men armed Borim, you have just volunteered for the attack on the necromancer,” king laughed.
Chapter Four
The Necromancer
The entrance of the cave could be seen across the ice lake from the path, one group of icebeings stood before the cave, two more flanked the path.
Borim addressed his men, “circular formation lads, porcupine style.”
Immediately the men circled Airamos Stumpish and Whitehorse, “you guys stay in the middle, when we get to the cave, you take the necromancer, and my men will horseshoe the entrance tae stop anything getting in.”
“And if we fail?” Airamos said slowly.
“We get drunk, ha ha ha ha!” Stumpish laughed.
Borim scowled at Stumpish then turned to Airamos, “if we fail, Ironforge falls, the scourge get a foothold in central eastern isles, they build up their forces, then…” he paused, “an all out attack on Stormwind? We canna fail, Azeroth is depending on us! Word has it that the Litch king is massing his forces in Icecrown,” he knelt down and picked up some loose snow by his feet, “this is my homeland…” he stood and shook his fist above his head, “this is OUR homeland boys, ARE WE GONNA LET THIS HAPPEN?”
“NO!” the dwarves replied in unison.
“Then MOVE OUT!” he ordered, there was numerous clicks as the dwarves loaded their weapons and the group started up the path.
They passed a small clump of trees; the undergrowth rustled as a group of five icebeings emerged, running towards the group.
“FIRE!” Borim shouted, the dwarves fired together, three beings exploded in a shower of ice shards. The other two turned and fled.
“KEEP EM PEELED BOYS, THERE WILL BE MORE!”
The group moved onto the lake, the surface slippery underfoot, the ice cracking and groaning under the weight.
“Spread out men, but keep circular formation.” Borim’s head shot from one side to the other, two groups of icebeings ran in from either side.
“LET EM HAVE IT!” Again, the dwarves fired in unison, a bright blue bolt hit one of the dwarves in the chest, instantly turning him into ice.
“GENERAL! THORIN’S DOWN!”
Whitehorse spun round, sighted the being that delivered the shot and squeezed the trigger, the being spun round and hit the floor; the shards instantly melted and joined the freezing lake surface.
“KEEP GOING LADS, WE ARE ALMOST THERE!”
With the two groups of beings down, the ring of dwarves made their way to the cave entrance, three bolts shot from behind took another three dwarves by surprise, freezing them to the spot; their mouths open in silent screams.
A large army of beings were running towards them at speed.
“How many?” Whitehorse asked Borim, Borim turned to answer then froze, his skin a bright blue colour, “BORIM’S DOWN!” She shouted.
The dwarves turned and looked around in panic.
“KEEP IT TOGETHER MEN!” Airamos took charge. “RUN TO THE CAVE ENTRANCE AND FORM DEFENCE!”
The little group ran for the cave mouth and fell behind stacks of crates for protection, the ice army stood off and raised their hands to the sky, tendrils snaked from their outstretched arms and started to form a large blue orb above their heads.
“COMBINED POWER, WE’RE FINISHED!” Shouted one of the dwarves.
A large shadow fell over the ice army twinned with a flapping of wings as forty griffins swooped down; each one carried two dwarves with one holding a package.
“LET EM HAVE IT BOYS!” The king on the lead griffin shouted, the packages rained down on the army, the explosions decimating them before the orb could reach full power, powdered snow and ice blew up in white clouds as the griffins landed in front of the cave.
The king dismounted and looked around, “looks like you can do with some reinforcements Borim… Borim?” Airamos shook his head sadly, the kings face fell as he said, “Aye, he was a good man.” He turned to the men.
“We have lost good men today, Borim was a good general and a good friend,” his face turned to one of anger as he held his gun above his head, “ARE WE GONNA LET THEIR DEATHS GO TAE WASTE! ARE WE GONNA LET SCOURGE FILTH TAKE OUR LANDS? OUR HOMES? OUR VERY EXISTANCE?”
The combined shout of “NO!” from the men shook the very ground they stood on.
“THEN HERE WE MAKE OUR STAND, WE WILL NOT LET THE SCOURGE WALK OVER US, THESE DEATHS WILL NOT BE IN VAIN…TODAY WE FIGHT…NOT JUST FOR IRONFORGE…NOT JUST FOR DUN MOROGH…BUT FOR ALL WHO LIVE IN THE EASTERN ISLES…WE FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO LIVE AS WE CHOOSE…TODAY WE FIGHT FOR AZEROTH!”
The men cheered as the king snatched a box of ammunition from the back of his golden griffin.
“Sire, should you be here?” Airamos looked concerned; the king slapped him on the back and smiled.
“You have a job tae do boy, do it well and there will be great feasting in Ironforge tonight.”
Airamos Stumpish and Whitehorse walked into the cave, leaving the king and his dwarven army at its mouth.
The walls of white ice sparkled in the glow of the torches they carried, the wind sang mournfully as it blew through the passages, their feet crunched on the loose gravel and the chill made them shiver.
They came across the main chamber, the necromancer stood with his back to them, tending his altar, ice statues ringed the room, the look of horror etched into their faces.
“Ahh…visitors,” the soft deep voice filled the chamber; he turned and looked done upon them.
“By decree of the king of Ironforge you are hereby ordered to leave these lands and return to whence you came.” Airamos read from a scroll passed to him from the king.
The necromancer raised a hand flippantly and the scroll disintegrated, “that is my answer to your pathetic demands, tell your king to disarm his troops and I will be lenient. Continue with this war and you will fail Dun Morogh will fall.”
“NEVER! Not in my lifetime,” Stumpish shouted the sound of the shot from his rifle bounced from the walls almost deafening, Whitehorse took aim and fired almost instantaneously both shots hitting the necromancer in the chest.
The necromancer stumbled back against the wall, “I see that you have found a way to defeat my minions but I will not fall that easy, prepare yourselves for an eternity of ice, join my statue collection.” He laughed.
The ceiling of the chamber started to shake as small ice shards fell from above sticking to their clothing and skin, locking together to form a covering over them, their movements slowed their whole bodies succumbing to the cold.
Whitehorse turned her head to Airamos who was chanting words of ancient text, a glowing ball of fire formed in the middle of the room melting the ice as it formed, his imp formed fireballs that shot towards the necromancer.
Airamos fell to his knees exhausted; all of his energy had been used to conjure the fireball. “Finish him…finish him now, I have no more to give my friends,” he gasped.
Their movement restored Stumpish and Whitehorse fired continuously, the barrels of their guns glowed red as shot after shot exploded from the muzzles, each shot that hit the necromancer pinned him against the wall, splinters of bone fell around his feet as he screamed, “YOU CANNOT STOP US, YOU MAY HAVE WON THIS BATTLE BUT THE WAR STILL RAGES!”
He fell to the ground gasping; he raised his head and looked at Stumpish who was now walking towards him.
“I will return; I… will… be… victorious.”
Stumpish raised his foot, “as I said earlier…not in my lifetime,” his foot came down hard on the necromancer’s skull, which shattered beneath his heavy boot.
The ice statues cracked and exploded releasing the captives, all of which ran from the chamber in fear.
Whitehorse ran to Airamos who had got to his feet and leant against the wall of the chamber to steady himself.
The king and Borim ran into the chamber, “BORIM! YOU’RE ALIVE.” Stumpish cried.
“Aye, thanks tae you, once the necromancer died, the ice spell died with him, and I got you guys to thank for that, you have earned my eternal gratitude.”
“That’s nice,” Stumpish said smiling, “but a beer would be better, come on, and let’s celebrate.”
They walked out of the chamber and into the blazing sunlight.
The king looked around the chamber before following, a concerned expression on his face.
“Aye,” he thought, “we won this time but will we be so lucky next time?”
He walked from the chamber, not seeing the head of the staff glowing faintly, pulsating slowly then gaining in intensity, the ice around the staff melted, steam shot up around it as the water was viciously heated.
The staff sank slowly into the ice floor, and then all was quiet as the ice reformed over the top of the hole.
Arrival
The suns rays fell upon the white snowy hills of Dun Morogh, small birds flew from tree to tree as they fed their young, safe in their nests.
Light grey coloured boar snuffled as they pushed their snouts deep into the snow looking for small rodents and white rabbits bounced along the path, stopping every so often to sniff the air, their long ears flat against their bodies.
A small trogg walked, flat footed towards the unfrozen centre of Helms Bed Lake dragging his net behind him, thin wisps of grey smoke started to rise from the camp behind him as Dun Morogh came alive.
He gathered his net at the waters edge and cast it in the blue water, the net slowly sank under the surface as the puzzled trogg looked around uneasily, he stuck his finger in one ear and wiggled it furiously.
All was quiet, the wildlife of Dun Morogh had stopped what it was doing and stood still, all were listening.
A crash and a white cloud of snow startled the trogg as a large hare burst from the undergrowth and shot across the icy surface of the lake to his left, its tiny claws finding purchase in the hard ice; he bounded up the opposite bank and flew into the undergrowth.
A ‘plop’ by his feet made him look down; a small fish lay on the surface of the water completely encased in ice, a second, a third came to the surface, clear tendrils of water started to climb slowly out of the water and over the edge of the ice running over his feet.
Overcome by fear the trogg turned to run back to the village, the tendrils wrapped around his legs and slowly pulled the screaming trogg into and under the water.
A white gnarled wooden staff rose slowly from the water, the head, a ring of thorns held a deep blue stone surrounded by a glowing aurora, the stone moved within the ring, pulsating like a heart beat.
Wrapped around the staff was a hand, the fleshless fingers gripped the staff tightly as the necromancer rose out of the water.
“Let it begin!” he said, his white teeth sparkled in the morning sun as he pointed the staff to the clear blue sky, the staff quivered as a black mist formed around its head, growing in intensity, the necromancer pulled his arm back, then thrust the staff towards the sky.
With a loud whoosh, the black ball sped skyward then exploded into a small black cloud that started to expand.
“Soon….soon,” he growled as he turned and walked slowly towards the mountains
Chapter One
The Storm
“STUMPISH? …STUMPISH, oh for the life of me, WHERE ARE YE?”
Her hair as white as the snow that covered the ground, Maggie Glasen stood in the doorway of the Pickled boar, a small stone Inn in Kharanos, looking out into the hills of Dun Morogh
“I’M COMMIN MAM,” Stumpish shouted down the hill that led to the inn, he stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow, his sled was weighed down with wood that he had collected from the forest that morning.
He reached round into his bag, took out his flask and pulled the cork with his teeth.
The liquor warmed him from the inside and gave him a pleasant buzz, he looked up at the clouds and sniffed the air, the forest creatures had been quiet all morning, which gave him a sense of unease and an acidic taint to the air told him that a storm was on its way
“I’LL BET YA’LL BE SUCKING ON THAT FLASK AS A CALF DRINKS FROM A COW,” she shouted.
He shook his head slowly and laughed as he took another swig from the flask and swallowed hard, he had almost reached the top of the hill, one last push and the runners of the sled sat precariously over the edge of a steep downward slope.
Stumpish looked over the edge, the Inn was the size of his thumbnail sitting at the bottom of the hill, this was by far the best part of collecting wood for the fire.
He strapped the wood onto the sled tight and moved the back round a little, aiming the sled for the five bar gate by the side of the building.
Jimmy came up behind Maggie and grabbed her from behind making her jump, “what ya are shoutin at now woman?” he said laughing.
“Our son, who or what else?” she replied, “now get ya wanderin hands offa me ya old fool,” playfully slapping his hands, “some of us have got work tae do, this Inn don’t run itself ya know.”
Stumpish looked up at the sled then down at the Inn, “Ok then,” he thought to himself and jumped up on top of the wood, straddling it like a rocket, he leant forward and then back, starting a slight rocking motion.
The hard snow under the runners gave a little and the sled started to move, slowly at first but picking up speed as it slid down the slope, the cold wind blew through his ginger hair and the falling snow stung his eyes but blood and liquor raced through his veins.
“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOYEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” he screamed at the top of his voice.
Maggie and her husband Jimmy stood by the gate watching the sled on its downward journey, “he’s at it again,” she sighed.
“Aye,” Jimmy replied, “where do ya think he’ll end up this time?”
“The pond,” she said looking over at the frozen pond by the woodpile, “he is gonna get wet again, I’ll get some clothes ready.”
“Nooo, the angle is wrong; “Jimmy said squinting at the rapidly oncoming sled he’ll hit the snow bank no doubt,” Maggie and Jimmy walked up to and sat on the bench at the side of the track with a steaming drink in their hand.
“The usual bet?” he asked.
“Aye,” Maggie replied, reaching into her apron, she pulled out a bronze coin and laid it on her lap, Jimmy’s coin joined it.
The sled thundered down the slope with the speed of a galloping horse, “GEEEERONIMOOOOOOOOOOOO,” Stumpish was sitting bolt upright with his hands in the air when he felt the sled give a little on one side, “Uh Oh,” he said as he looked down at the right hand runner. A loud ‘crack’ like the shot from a rifle bounced of the surrounding hills as a runner support gave way.
Maggie and Jimmy watched the sled shoot by just as the runner collapsed and dug into the packed snow stopping the sled almost dead in its tracks.
The back of the sled shot up sharply in a perfect arc catapulting Stumpish towards and into the snow bank like a bullet, burying him headfirst up to his waist and leaving his little legs protruding.
They looked at each other and laughed in unison, “He’ll kill himself one day,” Maggie said chuckling as she stood then walked towards the Inn, “don’t be too long with him Jimmy,” she sang, “he’s got chores tae do.”
Jimmy crawled over to the snow bank, his stomach hurting as he laughed, his eyes wet with tears, he grabbed Stumpish’s ankles and pulled sharply, his son slid out of the hole and landed on his face in the soft snow giggling.
“Come on ye young Yeti, ya mam wants ye tae go tae Ironforge and take the silk tae Bubulo in Tinkerstown.
“But pa, I was gonna meet Whitehorse today, canna not take the silk tomorrow?”
Whitehorse was a good friend of the family who worked in Ironforge in the Stoneskin tavern, a watering hole, popular with his dwarven warrior friends, Stumpish would never admit it but it was clear he harboured deep feelings for her.
“Not if you wanna see the sunset tonight son,” Jimmy said slapping Stumpish on his back laughing, “ya mam will get mean if she trips over the bundles again, anyway Whitehorse is workin today.” He slipped his son a sly wink, smiled then walked back to the Inn.
“Can I no take Fillie wi me?” Stumpish pointed to the old barn, “Those bales are proper heavy.”
Jimmy smiled, “Aye ye may, but take care of the old girl, she’s no as young as she used to be.”
Stumpish walked up to the barn doors and kicked away the fresh powdered snow that had been blown up against them, the ice crystals caught by the breeze, flew around and stuck to his long fur pants, he pulled on the door which shuddered then swung open with a loud groan.
Fillie looked up then trotted over to him, her nose in the air searching for the scent she loved, Stumpish held out his hand, a deep red apple sat in his palm.
He had taken it out of the fruit bowl Maggie had reserved for paying guests, the climate in Dun Morogh was not kind to fruit trees so Maggie had to have fruit shipped from Stranglethorn vale.
“Don’t ya go telling me mam where I got this from,” he whispered, “ya don’t get many of these around here.”
Fillie gently took the apple from his hand and chewed eagerly, Stumpish stroked the side of her face, the coarse hair rough against his fingers.
“Are ye feelin fit today old girl,” he said softly, “we got a little trip to Ironforge today,”
Fillie bowed her head and softly butt his chest, “work first, play later,” Stumpish laughed, the inside of the barn steadily darkened as the sun was slowly covered by a black cloud.
They both walked to the door and looked up; Stumpish pulled the ram to him and hugged her neck tightly.
“We best wrap up,” he said, “This dose’na look too good.”
He walked to the corner and pulled open the top of an old trunk, he reached inside and took a red and gold coloured blanket, it was ornately embroidered with the crest of Ironforge sitting proudly in the middle flanked by four dragonheads.
“Aye, this will do, nothing is too good for me old Fillie,” he laughed; Fillie trotted over and shook her head in appreciation.
Stumpish lay the blanket over her back then picked up the silk bales which he gently placed either side of her flank, the leather harness distributing the weight over her back.
Day had been turned into night, the black clouds covered the sky and the sun was nowhere to be seen, strong winds rattled the big door, Stumpish took a torch and let it soak in a pail of oil while he rummaged in a chest for a small pot.
“We gonna need some light tae see by,” his muffled voice coming from the chest, “Ah ha!” he cried triumphantly, he crawled back out of the chest and dipped the small pot in the oil, he winked at Fillie, “Just in case,” he said.
They walked to the door and stopped, black clouds rolled quickly across the sky as if they were being pursued by their greatest fear, lightning flashed behind them showing their outline and turning the snowy landscape an azure blue momentarily.
“Aye, this is gonna be bad,” he said quietly, Stumpish pulled his big floppy hat down over his eyes and hunched his shoulders as they walked out into the darkness.
The wind had made the metal of the brazier glow a bright red as the wind force-fed the hot embers with oxygen; he laid the torch over the brazier and the oil soaked cloth caught instantly.
Torch in one hand and Fillies harness in the other they stepped out onto the road, the welcoming yellow glow from the windows of the houses sparked a little jealousy inside him.
“Ya know what we need Fillie?” he shouted, “We need a song, Aye, a happy song to walk tae.” He took a big swig from his flask, thought for a second then burst into song.
“OOOOOO we’re goin tae Ironforge town.”
“We’re goin tae Ironforge town, town, town, town.”
“No matter what the weather,”
“As long as we’re together,”
“We’re goin tae Ironforge town.”
“And while we’re in Ironforge town,”
“We’ll visit the Stoneskin tavern.”
“We’re gonna see ma little lassie.”
“Who’s just a little sassy.”
“And then we’ll all get drunk and fall downnnnn.”
“HA HA HA HA HA!”
The road from Kharanos to Ironforge was open to the elements that allowed the wind the freedom to assault all in its path, a blinding flash of light, a crash of thunder stopped Fillie in her tracks and caused her to bray loudly, even Stumpish became anxious.
“Come on me beauty, we are almost at tha bridge now, not much further girl.”
The small wooden bridge, which crossed the frozen brook, had seen better days and although it was repaired regularly, a large crack had appeared in one of the planks in its span and the falling snow had covered this.
Stumpish looked back at Fillie, the temperature had fallen drastically since they had left Kharanos and the thick snow had crystallised into very small shards of ice.
Fillie’s thick eyelashes were no match for the ice and wind.
He looked up with his hand across his forehead protecting his eyes, the dull yellow lights of Ironforge glowed faintly through the thick driving ice, he pulled Fillie to a small copse of trees and once inside he removed his hat, two swipes of his knife had cut away the sides of the brim.
“Here ya go girl,” he said quietly, he put the hat over Fillies head and tied it under her neck, he took his flask and filled his mouth before swallowing hard, Fillie opened her mouth too.
“Ok then” he said as he tipped a small amount onto her tongue, “now dontcha go sayin what I done here today, some would say old Stumpish is goin soft,” he stroked the side of her muzzle before tugging on her harness, bowing his head and pushing out into the ice rain.
The cold had started to penetrate his clothing, the warming effects of the liquor nullified by the relentless onslaught of the freezing wind, his hands and feet now totally numb, he stepped onto the bridge and smiled, just off of the bridge was the hill up to Ironforge, one last pull and they would be sitting by a roaring fire in the Stoneskin arms, supping warm liquor.
“Come on me darling,” he said, “just a little bit…” a loud crack filled the air as the plank Stumpish had stood on gave way, he lost his balance and fell to one side, his head hit a post and knocked him unconscious, Fillie looked down at her master and brayed mournfully.
She backed up and pulled, her harness had tightened around his wrist and as she pulled harder his little body slid on the surface of the snow and ice, his leg followed him out of the hole.
Fillie knew the road to Ironforge well and continued walking backwards dragging the unconscious Stumpish along.
Chapter Three
Making Acquaintances
The young warlock sat with his legs astride the golden coloured griffin, his knuckles white as he held the reins tight, the griffin flew toward a solid wall of rock then gained altitude rapidly.
It cleared the peak by inches and flew down, close to the mountains side, its clawed feet grazing the tops of the mountain pines as it turned and swooped.
Airamos bowed his head and shut his eyes tight regretting his decision to stop over at Ironforge for the night but glad as he could see the mountain stronghold getting ever closer.
A warm blast of air on his face prompted him to open his eyes, the griffin had passed through the main entrance and had flown over the commons, the long river of molten metal provided the heat within the dwarven city.
Airamos ducked down as the griffin flew through a large vent in the wall and into the great forge, twisting and turning around the giant crucibles out of which pure molten metal poured continuously.
There was a small bump as the griffin came to rest, a heavy hand tapped his knee and Airamos opened his eyes.
“First time huh?” the flight master said smiling, “ye can let go now sonny.”
Airamos blushed a little as he dismounted the large beast, “would you know of an inn where a weary traveller could lay his head for the night?”
“An inn ya say?” the flight master pulled a dead rat from a wooden box and threw it towards the griffin, with a guttural growl the griffin swung its head and caught it in its yellow beak.
“Aye, Whitehorse, she runs the Stoneskin tavern and will give ya a bed for the night,” he pointed towards a large arch, “ through there, cross the commons, over the bridge, left and its on ya right just past the gate, ya canna miss it.”
Airamos thanked the flight master and walked towards the arch, the heat from the forge was making his robe steam gently as it had already melted the thinly packed snow that had coated it.
After crossing the bridge he looked up and saw the sign swinging gently outside the tavern, the muffled sound of singing came from the direction of the door.
He pushed on the door and walked in, the steady thump, thump, thump of tankards on the wooden tables kept all in time with the singing, the words were a language he did not understand, two masked rouges looked up as he passed then carried on their secret conversation.
A young female night elf stood motionless by a large window with one hand on the long drapes as if to close them, her long blue hair spilled over her shoulders which rose and fell with each breath, Airamos walked up to her and spoke softly.
“Excuse me but would there be a bed here for this night, this weather has put paid to my journey to the plague lands,” the young warlock said.
Whitehorse stood looking out of the window mesmerised by the ice bouncing off the glass.
“Excuse me, Miss Whitehorse?” He raised his voice a little, attempting to catch her attention; she looked over her shoulder and Airamos waved shyly.
“Oh, my apologies sir, I was a league away, what may I get you?”
“Warm rams milk and some honey bread thank you,” he said.
The bar went silent as all of the dwarves turned to look his way.
“Warmed liquored rams milk coming right up,” she said loudly, Airamos opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger to her mouth and shook her head, she walked behind the counter, leant on it and smiled.
“Warm rams milk it will be,” she said, “but remember, if anyone asks? It has liquor in it; the dwarves around here do not trust anyone who does not drink.”
She held out her hand, Airamos took it and shook it gently loosing himself in her dark blue eyes, “Airamos.” He said almost too quickly
“Whitehorse.” She replied and then smiled broadly, “I need my hand to get you your drink?”
Airamos flushed as he realised he was still shaking Whitehorse’s hand, “go sit by the fire Airamos and I will bring your order, we have a bed upstairs and it will be two gold pieces for one night, Oh… and no…I do not come with it.” She said laughing.
Airamos flushed deeper and stammered, “ I..I..I didn’t mean it that way.”
Whitehorse looked into his eyes and smiled “a breath of fresh air, a gentleman? My…you are certainly not from here,” she said, “it’s all they think about,” she nodded to the dwarves in the tavern then quickly swung her head to the window, “Did you hear…” she stopped mid sentence and shook her head, “no…no…it’s probably the wind through the trees.”
Airamos looked toward the window and made his way there; he peered through the glass.
The flames of the torches that lined the hill to the main gate of the city flickered in the wind, casting dark shadows across the path.
“Brrawwwww,” a very faint sound pushed its way through the storm, Airamos screwed up his eyes as, the dark figure of what looked like some kind of beast was pulling a bundle of something up the hill.
“Brrawwwwwwww!” the sound came again, louder this time due to a small dip in the wind, “a ram? A mountain ram?” Airamos scratched his head and wiped the window with his sleeve, “A mountain ram…in a hat?”
Whitehorse joined Airamos at the window just as a blue flash of lightning lit up the path, “What is Fillie doing out in this weather?” Whitehorse asked herself.
“Fillie?” Airamos looked confused
“Stumpys ram.”
Airamos looked even more confused.
Another flash lit up four other shapes moving slowly towards the bundle, four Frostmain wolves were following closely.
“They are going to attack the ram!” she said loudly.
Airamos lay his hand on Whitehorse’s shoulder, “Fear not Whitehorse, I will help the ram.”
“Not on your own you wont,” she said, “Come on…and the first one I see going behind the bar to help their selves while I have gone…I will cut their fingers off!” she shouted as she ran for the door.
“NUTS!” said a dwarf hardly able to stand then falling on the floor by the end of the bar.
“AYE…THOSE AS WELL!” She shouted.
A loud cheer filled the room as the couple ran out and headed for the gate.
“They are not coming to help?” Airamos questioned
“You don’t know your dwarves very well,” she said glancing back.
As they ran past a guard at the main gate, Whitehorse reached out and grabbed his sword from him.
“Hey lassie, ya canna do that!” he protested but stayed at his post, the weather was too bad for anything but the horde.
The wind had picked up and the slithers of ice stung their skin as they ran down the path to Fillie, Airamos stopped and held his hands in the air, a purple fountain of light flew from his fingers and hit the ground in a circle around his feet, seconds later a small imp materialised.
Airamos pointed to the wolves, the imp nodded and ran towards them Whitehorse had reached the first and swung her sword in a downward arc, the injured wolf jumped back then fled yelping loudly.
Two well-placed firebolts quickly dispatched two more; they fell to the ground where they stood, the rancid smell of singed hair blown clear by the wind.
Airamos stood by Fillie and took the harness as Whitehorse knelt down to check the bundle, the hair was matted with snow and blood but the nose was unmistakable.
“STUMPY? Quick…help me get him inside,” she took him by the shoulders, “hold his legs!” she ordered.
Airamos looked up and over her shoulder, a large white wolf was running towards them, teeth bared, growling and snarling.
“This is going to take more than Zub Zub,” he said rubbing his hands together, a small ball of incandescent purple light formed then flew over Whitehorse’s shoulder and hit the wolf square in the chest, the force of impact pushed the wolf back and over the edge of the path, the corpse crashing into the trees and bushes below.
They carried the unconscious dwarf past the guard at the front gate, “Come and get your sword from the Stoneskin tavern, there will be a flagon of liquor sitting beside it when you are ready.” She puffed.
The guard nodded his approval then turned to face the gate not moving from his position.
They crashed through the doors and threw Stumpish onto a tabletop scattering glasses, food and dwarves alike over the floor, Fillie trotted over to the corner and nibbled on the drapes.
Two dwarves emerged red faced from behind the bar, “Ok if you help me with Stumpish, it’s free liquor for all!” she shouted.
The dwarves cheered then rallied around, “what will ye have us do Whitehorse?” said one.
“He is chilled and needs warming, I need blankets from the rooms, you and …you, go to the kings’ room and strip the bed, they are the warmest blankets.”
“I get tae sit on his face!” said another laughing.
“Ya sit on me face I’ll bite ya bum,” Stumpish said drowsily, “where’s me chalice Whitehorse, I need a drink girl.”
Whitehorse reached into her apron and threw a key at one of the dwarves, “Deg, go to the chest behind the bar, get the Dark Iron rum,” the room went quiet, even Stumpish looked shocked.
“Girl, ya know that’s stuff is illegal,” he picked up a stray chicken leg from the table and threw it at a dwarf closest to the door, the dwarf slammed the door shut and slid the bolt across locking it tight.
Deg walked slowly across the floor with a large dusty bottle in his arms, the room was silent in quiet reverence for what was considered the brew to end all brews.
It was illegal as you could only obtain it by trading with the dark iron dwarves from Northrend.
Stumpish looked on wide-eyed as she poured a small amount of the black liquid into a small cup and handed it to him.
Stumpish lifted the cup to his lips, closed his eyes and tipped the contents down his throat, his eyes watered as his face went a dark red, a hacking cough was followed by a loud belch, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up at Whitehorse.
“That stuff will kill ya,” then smiled and shouted, “POUR ME ANOTHER!”
Whitehorse handed the bottle to Airamos, “just pour him a small one,” she said smiling.
Chapter Three
Battle plans
The mountaineer walked like a ghost towards the main gates of Ironforge, in his trembling hand he clutched a scroll, he staggered towards a guard before falling to the ground, “get… this… tae… the… king!” his dying words came in short sharp bursts, he opened his hand just as his blood froze in his veins.
The king, Magni Bronzebeard, surveyed the scroll; it demanded a total and unconditional surrender of Ironforge and associated lands.
“How can this be?” his face set as the anger rose inside him then his fist slammed down on the table, he spoke through gritted teeth.
Dun Morogh, which was surrounded by impenetrable mountains and was only accessible by the two passes, would allow the scourge a major foothold in the eastern isles.
“Send word throughout the land!” he ordered as he walked to a wall-sized map of his kingdom, “Dun Morogh is our home, and we will allow no scourge minion here…EVER!”
The necromancer stood by the altar of ice, the storm had reached its peak and shards of ice covered the soft snows, he swung his staff in an arc before him then slammed the end into the frozen ground.
His eyes blazed as the shards gathered into a small pile as if magnetised, slowly at first but gathering in speed, slotting together into a bipedal warrior.
One, and then another, the trees shook as the shards fell to the floor and gathered, warrior after warrior formed and stood silently, their gaze fixed on the necromancer.
“Go my children, fulfil our masters desire, GO! RAVAGE THIS LAND, LET NO LIVING THING SURVIVE!”
The army turned away from the altar and marched out through the snowy landscape towards its capital.
Airamos woke to a frantic hammering on the door of the inn, he slid the bolt back and pulled the heavy oak door towards him, dwarven warriors were running past and gathering in the commons.
The king stood on a platform and addressed his army.
“My fellow dwarves, for countless years we have called this place home, we have lived…we have fought and we have died…we have hewn this great city out of solid rock. Our fathers, their fathers, and their fathers before them gave their lives to ensure our safety…but today…that safety is threatened.”
A low murmur ran through the crowd.
“An evil has invaded our land; beings of ice are marching on the city…OUR CITY!”
The murmur grew into a buzz of angry voices.
Stumpish and Whitehorse stood by Airamos in the doorway of the inn as the king continued.
“THIS…” the king held the scroll above his head, “this demands we lay down our arms or face annihilation!”
The buzz grew into a low roar.
The king lifted his hand and the crowd fell silent. “So I put it tae you my subjects…no,” the king shook his head slowly, “my brothers…are we…the dwarves of Ironforge…tae be bullied out of our city…our land… ARE WE TO BE FORCED FROM OUR HOME?”
“NO…NO…NO!” the crowd chanted.
“WE WILL… MEET THIS THREAT HEAD ON!” he held his shield above his head, “WE WILL… CUT OUR WAY THROUGH THIS ARMY OF ICE!” he slammed the hilt of his sword against his shield.
“AND WE WILL…WE WILL…WE WILL BE VICORIOUS!”
A loud cheer, the stamping of feet and the metallic rings of hilts hitting shields filled the commons.
The king stood down from the platform and mounted his ram, it brayed loudly as he pulled back on its bridle.
“BROTHERS, LET IT BE WRITTEN, LET IT BE KNOWN…LET IT BE KNOWN THAT THE DWARVES OF IRONFORGE ALTHOUGH SHORT IN STATURE…STAND TALL IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY!
THIS DAY… WE MARCH…WE MARCH INTAE BATTLE…THIS DAY…WE MARCH INTAE HISTORY!”
The dwarven army responded, their cheering and battle cries filled the commons making doors and walls alike vibrate.
A metallic ‘clang’ behind Airamos and Whitehorse turned their heads, Stumpish stood in full armour.
“So what ye waitin for, an invite?” he said laughing, “let go and kick scourge butt, or do ye wanna live forever?”
The storm had died and the warming rays of the sun fell upon the crisp snows of Dun Morogh, the king stood over a map with his generals studying the area.
“Sire. Our scouts have found the location of a necromancer…here.” General Muren Stormpike pointed at the map, “but…” he paused sighing, “this army is like no other.”
“Explain!” said the king not looking up.
“The report shows that these beings are made of small ice shards, one swipe of our swords will shatter them like glass but they reform, so… as we push forward… they reform behind us then attack from the rear. There’s a powerful shadow magic that controls them.”
The king looked up from the map, “the source of this magic?”
“We believe it comes from the necromancer sire.”
“Then we push forward and destroy the source!” General Borim Goldhammer reached for his sword, “I will muster the men sire, a concerted push will…”
“Ya men will die before you reach the source Borim,” Muren shook his head sadly, “Ye’ll get surrounded, these beings know no pain, they never tire, they resist our most powerful magi, our hunters pets are turned to ice when they attack, men that have come into contact with them suffer the same fate”
“Then how?” Borim thrust his sword into the snow. “We can’t just give up…I won’t just give up,” he snarled.
“If I may sire?” Airamos stood in the entrance of the tent.
“What do ye want? Can’t ya see we are busy?” Borim spat.
The king raised his hand, “What can I do for ye, warlock?”
Airamos took a deep breath, “Sire, by its very nature, ice by volume can bend steel, even reshape mountains over time… but it cannot tolerate common salt.”
Borim slapped the side of his head and laughed mockingly, “Of course,” he said, “we just drop our swords, bows and guns, and give our troops salt cellars.” Muren and the other Generals joined in the laughter.
The king however, did not; he stood looking down at the map, “gentlemen! The warlock may have the answer!”
The laughing stopped, “Ye canna be serious Sire, this fool is gonna get us all turned tae ice!”
The king raised his hand again, “how would you deliver your killing blow warlo….what is your name son,”
“Airamos sire. May I see the map?”
The king motioned Airamos inside, “our scouts place three groups, here…here and here, the necromancer is here,” the king stabbed at the map with his finger, our scholars tell us that if we remove the necromancer, the frost beings will fall, he is the power that holds them together, so Airamos, what’s ya plan?”
“Sire, your warriors are suffering at their hands because of close proximity, change to ranged, arm your hunters and warriors with shotguns, compress rough salt with a small amount of blasting powder and replace the shot in your existing shells.”
“Gribble!” the king barked, a small gnome appeared, “The bullets? How long?”
“Within the hour sire,” he squeaked.
The king nodded thoughtfully, “so that deals with the beings, what about the necromancer? While he lives… the beings recreate”
“I will need 20 of your men for protection and to cover the entrance of the cave while I kill the necromancer sire.”
Borim walked over to Airamos and slapped him on the back, “and who ya gonna find crazy enough to go with ye? Ya gonna need more than ya minion warlock,”
Stumpish and Whitehorse walked into the tent. “The crazy ones be us,” said Stumpish.
“And the woman?” Borim laughed scornfully.
Whitehorse looked disapprovingly at the general, “General, you are a man and have the courage of a lion, or so I have heard,”
“Aye there is none braver.” Borim replied.
Whitehorse threw a pinecone to him; he caught it then looked at her, a bemused look on his face.
“Balance that on your head by the base of that tree, 200 yards yonder,” she said smiling.
Borim’s skin lightened a shade.
“Aye, you question her prowess in battle…she questions your bravery, seems like a fair trade, what say you Borim, do you take the challenge?” The king laughed
Borim scowled at Whitehorse, “Aye…I take the challenge.” He stomped out of the tent, took up position and balanced the cone on his head.
“Three tae one!” Stumpish laughed, “Do ya party piece girl.”
The king looked puzzled, “party piece?”
“Aye, three ricochets and hit the target.”
Borim’s face dropped, the king burst out laughing, “Aye I’ll allow it, shoot true young lady.”
Whitehorse took aim and squeezed the trigger; the muzzle jumped as the bullet sped towards its first target, Borim closed his eyes.
A grey gouge appeared in the rock face with a puff of dust as the bullet changed direction, a loud clang signalled its second change of direction as it glanced off a shield that had been propped up against a tree trunk.
The bullet sped on and up at an acute angle, straight through the stem of another cone hanging in the tree, the cone fell and knocked Borim’s cone from his head.
Visibly relieved Borim laughed, “Ya missed girly.”
Whitehorse smiled sweetly, “I was aiming for the cone in the tree… and I never said I was going to shoot the cone from your head.”
Borim scowled once more, and marched over to Whitehorse, and growled, “I’ll tell ya one thing and one thing only girl,” his face broke into a smile, “I will walk intae battle with you anytime.”
“Then get ya men armed Borim, you have just volunteered for the attack on the necromancer,” king laughed.
Chapter Four
The Necromancer
The entrance of the cave could be seen across the ice lake from the path, one group of icebeings stood before the cave, two more flanked the path.
Borim addressed his men, “circular formation lads, porcupine style.”
Immediately the men circled Airamos Stumpish and Whitehorse, “you guys stay in the middle, when we get to the cave, you take the necromancer, and my men will horseshoe the entrance tae stop anything getting in.”
“And if we fail?” Airamos said slowly.
“We get drunk, ha ha ha ha!” Stumpish laughed.
Borim scowled at Stumpish then turned to Airamos, “if we fail, Ironforge falls, the scourge get a foothold in central eastern isles, they build up their forces, then…” he paused, “an all out attack on Stormwind? We canna fail, Azeroth is depending on us! Word has it that the Litch king is massing his forces in Icecrown,” he knelt down and picked up some loose snow by his feet, “this is my homeland…” he stood and shook his fist above his head, “this is OUR homeland boys, ARE WE GONNA LET THIS HAPPEN?”
“NO!” the dwarves replied in unison.
“Then MOVE OUT!” he ordered, there was numerous clicks as the dwarves loaded their weapons and the group started up the path.
They passed a small clump of trees; the undergrowth rustled as a group of five icebeings emerged, running towards the group.
“FIRE!” Borim shouted, the dwarves fired together, three beings exploded in a shower of ice shards. The other two turned and fled.
“KEEP EM PEELED BOYS, THERE WILL BE MORE!”
The group moved onto the lake, the surface slippery underfoot, the ice cracking and groaning under the weight.
“Spread out men, but keep circular formation.” Borim’s head shot from one side to the other, two groups of icebeings ran in from either side.
“LET EM HAVE IT!” Again, the dwarves fired in unison, a bright blue bolt hit one of the dwarves in the chest, instantly turning him into ice.
“GENERAL! THORIN’S DOWN!”
Whitehorse spun round, sighted the being that delivered the shot and squeezed the trigger, the being spun round and hit the floor; the shards instantly melted and joined the freezing lake surface.
“KEEP GOING LADS, WE ARE ALMOST THERE!”
With the two groups of beings down, the ring of dwarves made their way to the cave entrance, three bolts shot from behind took another three dwarves by surprise, freezing them to the spot; their mouths open in silent screams.
A large army of beings were running towards them at speed.
“How many?” Whitehorse asked Borim, Borim turned to answer then froze, his skin a bright blue colour, “BORIM’S DOWN!” She shouted.
The dwarves turned and looked around in panic.
“KEEP IT TOGETHER MEN!” Airamos took charge. “RUN TO THE CAVE ENTRANCE AND FORM DEFENCE!”
The little group ran for the cave mouth and fell behind stacks of crates for protection, the ice army stood off and raised their hands to the sky, tendrils snaked from their outstretched arms and started to form a large blue orb above their heads.
“COMBINED POWER, WE’RE FINISHED!” Shouted one of the dwarves.
A large shadow fell over the ice army twinned with a flapping of wings as forty griffins swooped down; each one carried two dwarves with one holding a package.
“LET EM HAVE IT BOYS!” The king on the lead griffin shouted, the packages rained down on the army, the explosions decimating them before the orb could reach full power, powdered snow and ice blew up in white clouds as the griffins landed in front of the cave.
The king dismounted and looked around, “looks like you can do with some reinforcements Borim… Borim?” Airamos shook his head sadly, the kings face fell as he said, “Aye, he was a good man.” He turned to the men.
“We have lost good men today, Borim was a good general and a good friend,” his face turned to one of anger as he held his gun above his head, “ARE WE GONNA LET THEIR DEATHS GO TAE WASTE! ARE WE GONNA LET SCOURGE FILTH TAKE OUR LANDS? OUR HOMES? OUR VERY EXISTANCE?”
The combined shout of “NO!” from the men shook the very ground they stood on.
“THEN HERE WE MAKE OUR STAND, WE WILL NOT LET THE SCOURGE WALK OVER US, THESE DEATHS WILL NOT BE IN VAIN…TODAY WE FIGHT…NOT JUST FOR IRONFORGE…NOT JUST FOR DUN MOROGH…BUT FOR ALL WHO LIVE IN THE EASTERN ISLES…WE FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO LIVE AS WE CHOOSE…TODAY WE FIGHT FOR AZEROTH!”
The men cheered as the king snatched a box of ammunition from the back of his golden griffin.
“Sire, should you be here?” Airamos looked concerned; the king slapped him on the back and smiled.
“You have a job tae do boy, do it well and there will be great feasting in Ironforge tonight.”
Airamos Stumpish and Whitehorse walked into the cave, leaving the king and his dwarven army at its mouth.
The walls of white ice sparkled in the glow of the torches they carried, the wind sang mournfully as it blew through the passages, their feet crunched on the loose gravel and the chill made them shiver.
They came across the main chamber, the necromancer stood with his back to them, tending his altar, ice statues ringed the room, the look of horror etched into their faces.
“Ahh…visitors,” the soft deep voice filled the chamber; he turned and looked done upon them.
“By decree of the king of Ironforge you are hereby ordered to leave these lands and return to whence you came.” Airamos read from a scroll passed to him from the king.
The necromancer raised a hand flippantly and the scroll disintegrated, “that is my answer to your pathetic demands, tell your king to disarm his troops and I will be lenient. Continue with this war and you will fail Dun Morogh will fall.”
“NEVER! Not in my lifetime,” Stumpish shouted the sound of the shot from his rifle bounced from the walls almost deafening, Whitehorse took aim and fired almost instantaneously both shots hitting the necromancer in the chest.
The necromancer stumbled back against the wall, “I see that you have found a way to defeat my minions but I will not fall that easy, prepare yourselves for an eternity of ice, join my statue collection.” He laughed.
The ceiling of the chamber started to shake as small ice shards fell from above sticking to their clothing and skin, locking together to form a covering over them, their movements slowed their whole bodies succumbing to the cold.
Whitehorse turned her head to Airamos who was chanting words of ancient text, a glowing ball of fire formed in the middle of the room melting the ice as it formed, his imp formed fireballs that shot towards the necromancer.
Airamos fell to his knees exhausted; all of his energy had been used to conjure the fireball. “Finish him…finish him now, I have no more to give my friends,” he gasped.
Their movement restored Stumpish and Whitehorse fired continuously, the barrels of their guns glowed red as shot after shot exploded from the muzzles, each shot that hit the necromancer pinned him against the wall, splinters of bone fell around his feet as he screamed, “YOU CANNOT STOP US, YOU MAY HAVE WON THIS BATTLE BUT THE WAR STILL RAGES!”
He fell to the ground gasping; he raised his head and looked at Stumpish who was now walking towards him.
“I will return; I… will… be… victorious.”
Stumpish raised his foot, “as I said earlier…not in my lifetime,” his foot came down hard on the necromancer’s skull, which shattered beneath his heavy boot.
The ice statues cracked and exploded releasing the captives, all of which ran from the chamber in fear.
Whitehorse ran to Airamos who had got to his feet and leant against the wall of the chamber to steady himself.
The king and Borim ran into the chamber, “BORIM! YOU’RE ALIVE.” Stumpish cried.
“Aye, thanks tae you, once the necromancer died, the ice spell died with him, and I got you guys to thank for that, you have earned my eternal gratitude.”
“That’s nice,” Stumpish said smiling, “but a beer would be better, come on, and let’s celebrate.”
They walked out of the chamber and into the blazing sunlight.
The king looked around the chamber before following, a concerned expression on his face.
“Aye,” he thought, “we won this time but will we be so lucky next time?”
He walked from the chamber, not seeing the head of the staff glowing faintly, pulsating slowly then gaining in intensity, the ice around the staff melted, steam shot up around it as the water was viciously heated.
The staff sank slowly into the ice floor, and then all was quiet as the ice reformed over the top of the hole.
