It was late, nearly dawn, but Archdruid Fandral Staghelm was wide awake. He stood at the window, looking down at the city. He had a splendid view of Darnassus from atop the highest tower in the Cenarion Enclave, but the city's beauty was lost on him tonight. He turned from the window to glance at the door to his quarters. Surely if she had come in that way, he would have heard her...would he not?

Sighing impatiently, he sat down at a small table to shuffle through the latest reports from the Eastern Kingdoms.

Suddenly, there was a knife at his throat. He dropped his quill with a start but was clearly more annoyed than frightened. "You're late."

"Sorry." She didn't sound the least bit sincere.

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"I didn't hear you come in."

"That was the idea." She replaced the knife on her belt, then slid around him with sinuous grace to perch herself on the table next to his papers. "So, you have need of my services again?" The night elf in front of him was clad from head to toe in soft black leather, which combined with her waist-length, dark blue hair made her seem to blend into the shadows of the dimly-lit room.

"I have a special task for you, yes."

She leaned forward seductively and smirked. "A...special task, hmm?"

Staghelm frowned sternly, making it clear that he was in no mood for her teasing.

She shrugged slightly and sat back, inspecting another of her daggers. "Who's my target?"

"Not so much whom...as where. I need you to gather information."

"Easy enough." She flipped her blade in the air and caught it expertly.

"You won't say that when I tell you the details."

She looked mildly offended. "Have I ever failed you?"

"No," he said curtly. "Which is why I'm entrusting this mission to you."

"Fair enough."

"You will travel to Northrend."

"I'll pack my warmest clothes."

"There you will find the heart of the Scourge's operations."

"I've fought undead before."

He continued as if her flippant comments had never been spoken. "Observe them. Study them. Learn their secrets."

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She raised an eyebrow in interest. "Why?"

"The Scourge have succeeded in breaking the bonds of mortality. Vile though they are, they hold the secret to reversing death. I must know how they accomplish this."

Her confidence faltered slightly but she recovered within two heartbeats. "Druidic magic isn't good enough?"

"It can heal, yes, but death is still final. To recover someone who has died, we must go further."

"Recover someone..." Her eyes widened, understanding at last. "Ah, I see...you're still determined to get your son back, aren't you?" she asked shrewdly.

He stiffened defensively. "That is none of your concern."

"If you're asking me to risk my life--not to mention my soul--I think it is my business. Besides, do you really want your dearly departed to come back as a rotting ghoul?"

"Of course not!" He stood up, glaring down at her. "But what the Scourge started, I believe I can finish! Bring me the secrets of their magic--"

"Necromancy. Call it what it is."

"Very well, their necromancy. If I can unlock its secrets, I will supplement it with druidic magic and accomplish a true revival, body and soul!"

She regarded him in silence for a moment, clearly thinking through her options. "What's in it for me?" she asked at length.

"Wealth beyond imagining. You'll never have to lurk in a dark alley again."

"Enough to hang up my blades and live a life of luxury someplace warm and tranquil?"

"If you choose."

"Tempting... Very tempting."

"You may have a few days to consider, if you require more time. There is a ship leaving from Auberdine at the end of the week."

She slid off the table and sauntered to the window. "I flunked out of druid training, you know. I'm not very good with magic. What I am good at..." She turned, flinging one of her daggers so that it sliced through the air barely an inch above the archdruid's head. He managed not to flinch, and the blade thunked harmlessly into the wood near the door. "...is dealing with weapons."

"Be that as it may, you're still an ideal choice. I remember why you failed as a druid, Kalizai."

She tilted her head, daring him to continue.

"You weren't able to master the ability to call on the spirits of nature. You drew on the arcane instead."

"My parents were Highborne. It's in my blood." She strode over to recover her dagger, carefully running a finger along the keen blade to remove any sawdust.

"Yes, and that's what I need. You haven't been ingrained into the mindset of typical Queldorei magics. You'll be able to open your mind to new ideas."

"I can," she said with a sly smile. "Can you?"

He regarded her warily.

She leaned closer, her eyes half-closed. "I can teach you lots of new things, Fandral..."

He drew back, a hint of color in his cheeks betraying his discomfort. "Complete your mission and you will be rewarded generously."

She put a hand on his shoulder, playfully tweaking the leafy decorations there. "Can I have part of that reward up front?"

"Control yourself, woman," he growled.

Her hand moved to his cheek, stroking back the dark green hair that framed his face. "Are you sure?" she said in a slightly mocking tone.

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"Will you never let me forget that one moment of weakness?" he snapped.

"Weakness, was it? That's not how I'd describe it..." She grinned and ran a hand across his chest.

He seized her by the shoulders and firmly pushed her back. "It was a mistake I do not care to repeat. This is business, Kalizai. Nothing more."

She pouted briefly but did not seem particularly upset. "Suit yourself. You know what you're missing..."

He frowned and looked away. "Let me know your decision and I will arrange passage on a ship to Northrend."

She shrugged. "Go snoop around the Scourge, learn how they do their necromancy, come back and get rich. Got it. Go ahead and book me a berth. I just got back from Theramore; it won't take me long to get my sea legs back."
Only the most highly-attuned senses could have detected anything amiss around the Scourge encampment. Gargoyles flapped lazily in the frigid air, and abominations ambled aimlessly in the courtyard. From time to time a necromancer wandered in or out of the ziggurat.

Just beyond the reach of the ghostly blue torches, one of the shadows yawned.

Kalizai was crouched at the base of a rocky outcropping, perfectly melded into the gloom. A ghoul could have passed within an arm's length of her position and not noticed her presence.

She had been spying on the camp for several weeks, observing the comings and goings, mentally keeping notes that she later committed to paper back at her base of operations. It was only an abandoned yeti cave, but it was a safe distance from the Scourge camp and provided shelter from the bitter Northrend air.

Her long-honed techniques of stealth and subterfuge told her to stay downwind of the enemy to ensure that they would not detect her scent. She had adhered to this despite the unpleasant stench of undeath.

She had learned a fair amount about the Scourge's method of training ghouls and abominations--as much as such mindless creatures could be trained. So far, however, she had failed to witness the necromancers in action. That was what she really needed to learn. After all, Staghelm wasn't interested in the shambling skeletons and lumbering monstrosities. He wanted to know the secret of the initial reanimation itself.

Easy, she thought with a sniff. Should be lounging in luxury on a balcony in Booty Bay in no time. Sipping a fruit drink, paying a goblin to massage her feet...

The bitter cold now made it difficult to feel her feet, however. She didn't dare move at the moment, warily eying a flock of gargoyles circling nearby.

As usual, there was no sign of any necromancers coming out to do a free demonstration. She set her jaw in frustration and finally admitted that this passive, distant reconnaissance wasn't likely to yield the information she needed. It was time to step things up a notch. It would be even more dangerous, of course, but that was why the archdruid was offering such extravagant compensation.

When the last gargoyle had disappeared behind the tree line, she began to move, one foot at the time, finding her way across the rocky, snow-dusted hillside. She made sure each foot was securely placed before moving the next, taking no chances on slipping. Haste was often fatal in this line of work.

At last she reached the perimeter of the camp, pausing in the shadow cast by the ziggurat to get her bearings. The pall of death felt like a physical weight on her chest as she inched closer to the front of the building. She melted into the darkness in a nook where she could see the steps leading to the front entrance, and waited. Minutes ticked slowly by, but Kalizai remained as motionless as a statue. Once an abomination wandered within ten feet of her but the simple-minded creature completely ignored the intruder.

When the coast was clear again, she stepped forward a bit further and took up a position against the side of the stairs. With the side of her head resting against the icy stone, she listened for any sign of activity inside.

There was an anguished wailing--a banshee, perhaps, or a prisoner. She also detected a boiling, bubbling noise that reminded her of the tar pits she had seen once in Un'Goro. Other strange noises reached her more faintly: scratching, groaning, banging, and distant voices speaking a language that was unfamiliar to her. It had to be the necromancers. She strained to make out their words, but only snatches of the strange language were clear enough to make out.

Kalizai frowned. Even if she could hear every word, there was no telling if the incantations they were chanting now were the ones she needed. There were probably other elements to their magic, anyway: potions, gestures, fire... The great mages might make it look easy, but she knew magic was complicated. One wrong move and a simple spell could have drastically different results than the caster intended.

Did she dare try to sneak inside the ziggurat? Even if she had a front-row seat for the necromancers' rituals, she doubted it would be enough to enable her to successfully recreate them. How in the world did Staghelm expect her to do this? Short of personal tutoring, there was no way--

"That can be arranged."

The breath caught in her throat as a cold, ghostly voice suddenly echoed in her head. She did not blink or twitch a muscle, trying to determine where the sound had come from.

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"You wish to learn the secrets of undeath?"

An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. The voice sounded almost like the icy north wind itself, but its words were clear. It seemed to be coming from inside her mind, from the darkest recesses of her soul.

She released the air in her lungs to whisper, "Who...?"

"You seek knowledge...power... I can taste your greed, elf. I can see your heart."

Kalizai's eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. But how could she escape from something that spoke within her head?

"Yes...you will do nicely."

Seemingly from out of nowhere, a crypt fiend closed in on her. Numb with terror, Kalizai managed only a few wild swings of her daggers before the giant arachnid knocked the weapons from her hands. Before she could cry out, the slashing claws sliced across her throat. There was a burst of pain, then...nothing.

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She was not cold anymore. She was not afraid. She could no longer smell the miasma of death. A strange new power hummed in her veins.

She was dimly aware of her hands moving, as if of their own accord, to grasp the hilt of a heavy broadsword.

The same haunting voice was speaking, but it no longer came from within her mind. Its source was nearby, slightly above and in front of her.

"You wish to learn the secrets of the Scourge? You wish to wield death itself as a weapon? Very well. Then you will serve me. You will have the knowledge you seek, and I will have you...mind, body, and soul."

Her eyes opened and she raised her head, knowing even before she did so what she would see. Although she could not remember how she got there or how she came to be clad in plate armor of shining ebony, she was kneeling before the Frozen Throne.

Some tiny flicker of awareness deep in her mind told her to be terrified, to resist, to fight, to reject, to...

A piercing blue glow shone from the eye sockets of the Lich King's helm, and she remained riveted to the spot.

"Master," she said with hushed reverence.

The Lich King smiled.

lk-and-kalizai.jpg (44879 bytes)Archdruid Fandral Staghelm looked up with an annoyed expression at the knock on his door. What mundane drudgery did they desperately need his input on now? Furbolg raids in Ashenvale? New findings about sludge in Felwood? Ridiculous nonsense about the so-called corruption of Teldrassil? He had important matters to attend to.

"Enter," he snapped.

The Sentinel who opened the door looked almost...frightened? That piqued Staghelm's interest. The guardians of Darnassus were usually unflappable, but the woman in front of him now was wide-eyed and clearly uneasy. "Archdruid, there's a...well, that is, she says..."

"Spit it out!"

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"You have a v-visitor." The Sentinel quickly turned and rushed away, being so careful not to touch the person waiting behind her that Staghelm wondered if his visitor had some kind of horrible disease.

The truth was far worse.

The figure in the doorway was clad in shining black plate armor decorated with steel bones. A fur-lined black cloak covered her back, and an unnatural chill accompanied her as she strode into the room. In contrast to her ebony armor, her skin was deathly pale, and her hair was white, but not the white of advanced age; it was as if all the life had been drained from her.

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It hardly seemed possible, yet he did recognize her. "Kalizai?"

She smiled slightly, but there was a coldness to her gaze that unsettled him. "I've come to collect."

"You...what?"

"I've upheld my end of the bargain. I have mastered the art of the Scourge's magics." She drew the broadsword from her side but it wasn't a threatening gesture. She held out the blade so he could see the runes glowing on the steel. Tendrils of icy vapor snaked from the strange symbols. Staghelm grimaced, repulsed by the dark magic emanating from her. "You wished to know how the Scourge conquered death itself? I stand before you as an example of the Lich King's might. I am now a Death Knight."

Staghelm took a step back. "I never asked you to--"

"I was not given a choice," she interrupted. "You should have known--I should have known--that there is no way to master necromancy without corrupting your own soul."

"I did not ask you to give your soul, Kalizai!" he said adamantly.

"The Lich King didn't ask, either. He just took it."

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"Kalizai, I..." Staghelm faltered, his expression a mixture of revulsion and sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"I didn't come for an apology, Fandral. I came for my money."

"Uh...of course! Of course!"

She strode forward, her heavy armor clanking. "In return, of course, I will tell you what I have learned from the Scourge...if you still wish to hear it."

Staghelm swallowed but managed to reply coolly, "I would not have hired you for this task if I did not want to hear it."

She was standing close enough for him to feel the chill that emanated from her, as though she had just come inside from a blizzard--although it was as mild as ever in Darnassus. He hurried to rummage in a storage chest for the gold he had hidden there.

"Very well," she said. "I will warn you, however, that you will not find the pure restoration that you seek. The Scourge's magic is unholy, vile, unnatural and utterly without redemption. Once tainted by it--as I now am--there is no going back."

He turned back to her holding a small sack weighed down with gold coins. "That is one third of what I promised. I wasn't expecting you, so I'll have to send for the rest."

"You probably weren't expecting me back at all."

"It has been nearly two years."

"I was on the Lich King's schedule," she said bitterly, taking the sack from him. "I'll be back tomorrow for the rest." She started for the door but stopped and regarded him with a thoughtful, slightly softer expression. "And, Fandral...let your son rest in peace. There are worse things than death."

His lips parted but no words came.

She walked away, a quiet metallic sound marking each footstep.

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