Chapter Text
Vael had two specific images of her father in her mind. The first was the living man she saw in Better Botanicals, or the old albums her mother had buried in her closet. Middle aged, a kind or knowing smile, elbow deep in soil.
The other was put together from illustrations from Argent texts or the Scourge bestiary. Skeletal, dressed for war and standing behind a legion of zombies.
It never occurred to her that they were the same person.
“Give it up,” Thrall called out, “just use magic.”
“Just watch and learn,” Kel’Thuzad replied.
Kel’Thuzad, Archlich of the Scourge and former member of Dalaran’s secretive Council of Six, was trying (and so far failing) to catch a fish. He crouched, shirtless, in the river. His expensive looking pants were rolled up over his knobby knees.
Vael doubted she would ever see something like that in the Argent Dawn’s bestiary.
The water was shallow and rocky in this part of the river. Its placid surface sparkled ruby and topaz in the setting sun. Kel’Thuzad was still as a statue as he scanned the water, only the strange mist that filled his chest moved in the breeze.
“He’s crazy,” Thrall muttered.
Vael glanced over at the warchief. He sat with his back against a boulder, arms crossed, thumbs stuffed into his pits. Thrall hadn’t taken his eyes off her father since he appeared. He probably didn’t trust him. Or her, since she’d lied.
A sky blue fish broke the surface of the river, scattering amber drops. The lich lurched into action, hunched as he fought to keep his footing and his prize within snatching range. He lunged, one arm extended, the other propping himself up out of the water. Kel’Thuzad barked a triumphant laugh, then swore loudly as he splashed forward onto his ribs. After a bit of thrashing he stood, claws hooked up into the fish’s gills.
“See that?” Kel’Thuzad grinned, “easy.”
“Hmp,” Thrall’s lower lip bunched up against his tusks, “show off.”
Kel’Thuzad may have heard him because he flicked his wrist and teleported the still struggling fish into Thrall's lap. The fish caught him off guard and managed to slap him in the face with its tail before he could get a grip on the slippery thing. Vael stifled a laugh, unsuccessfully. Thrall only glared at the lich as he pulled his way up to where they sat on the rocks.
The lich’s claws skittered against the stone as he hauled himself up in one fluid motion. He was soaked, but the water didn’t drip off him. Most of it slumped away as slush. Vael even saw some of it had started to form icicles between his ribs.
“Aren’t you cold?” Vael asked, then winced. Dumb question.
“Oh yes, very,” Kel’Thuzad replied. He rubbed his arms, the bones made a clicking sound, “Can you hand me my robe?”
Vael nodded and pulled the heavy garment towards her. The lich had since washed it in the river and it now had the pungent reek of anise and tea tree, the tell tale sign of liferoot oil. Offensive, but the field-made soap still smelled better than putrid flesh.
A spell flickered red as he shrugged on the robe. The trick melted the ice and slush into steam, leaving him dry. Kel’Thuzad sighed, a picture of lich-y contentment exaggerated for her benefit. “Much better, thank you.”
Kel’Thuzad turned to look at Thrall. The warchief’s stern expression was unchanged. The short silence sapped away any of the lingering warmth from before. “Are you going to clean that?” Kel’Thuzad asked.
The lich didn’t wait for Thrall’s answer before sliding off the boulder, “Let’s go see what you were able to gather, eh? We might be able to make a nice dinner.”
The rocks were high. Kel’Thuzad stood with his arms raised, expectantly, so he could help her down. Vael was struck with how odd the sight might be. He was still barefoot (Vael could see his toes were clawed like his fingers) and he didn’t bother rolling his pants down. In fact the archlich looked a bit… silly. It reminded her more of the photo in Better Botanicals than the bestiary.
She only hesitated because of the height before sliding after him.
He caught her easily, but instead of putting her down, Kel’Thuzad shifted her to one arm and bent to retrieve his boots. Privately, Vael was grateful for the ride. Her legs were still leadened from the march earlier.
The trek back to the ruins was short, but it gave her an opportunity to get a good look at him. To see his long, sharp teeth, the pearly ivory of his tusks, and how his gray hair swirled and fell around his horns. He was becoming more than the person in her books.
“What?” he asked. He watched her out of the corner of a scarlet eye.
“You’re green,” Vael said. Between the nooks of his spine and the little hard to reach spaces of his skull was a greenish stain.
“Green!” he was careful not to knock her with a tusk or horn when he turned his head, “First I stink, now I’m green?”
“I think it's from the liferoot.”
“Ah,” he picked at a little pit on his face then shrugged, “Well, I suppose that’s not so bad.”
“Are you mad at Thrall?” Vael asked.
There had been a bit of a fight after Kel’Thuzad revealed himself. Well, to be accurate, Atiesh dispelled the polymorphic effect- she had a feeling if her father had his way he would still be a goose.
He’d been furious when he learned that Vael had spent the last four days cold, wet and with her magic dangerously depleted. A cold fury, the kind that leached into the ground and gilded the plants around him with hoarfrost. He didn’t yell. Her mother hardly yelled when she was truly angry too.
Vael thought that made it scarier.
His voice had been cool and steady. But there was an edge to his questioning. Why didn’t you have a natural fire? How far have you been marching per day? It's been how long since you had fresh water? I see…
Thrall did not enjoy his interrogation.
“Because I threw a fish at him?” Kel’Thuzad asked.
“Before that.”
He grunted, red eyes studied her face. “It was irresponsible of him, that's all. He’s friends with Jaina. He should know better than to rely on your conjured rations.”
“I was only trying to be helpful,” Vael said, her cheeks burned.
“You were,” he said as he gave her a little squeeze, “but you were the one who needed help.”
They’d arrived back at the camp. Kel’Thuzad let her slide down then he sat next to his pack and pulled out a squat roll of cloth. Vael watched as he tied one end to his shin and began to wrap down his leg.
“What are you doing?”
He didn’t look up as he wrapped his ankle with a practiced efficiency, “My feet slide around in my boots too much if I don’t wrap them.”
“Can’t you wear socks?” Vael asked. Socks seemed sensible.
“They just get shredded.”
Vael looked at his clawed feet again. She could imagine them poking through and quickly ruining any cloth. “Oh.”
She watched him tend to his other leg.
When he rolled up his sleeves he asked, “Why don’t you show me what you gathered?”
Vael obeyed. At first she pulled out the plants one by one. Then handfuls. Then she opted to turn it over and dump everything out. It took only a few minutes for her to organize everything into little piles and by that time Kel’Thuzad had wrapped his hands.
He looked over her cache and made a satisfied noise. “Lot of cranberries,” he said, mostly to himself.
“They were hurting my stomach,” Vael explained. She hadn’t had the energy nor the tools to process most of what she gathered. As a result most of it went uneaten.
Kel’Thuzad looked up, the white dot in his eyes roamed over her face. Looking for something, the truth behind her words. After a moment he let out a long breath which blew a large cloud of mist out of his skull.
“Well, this is a great collection. I think it will make a grand feast, what do you say?” he swept a hand over her organized piles, “would you like to help?”
Vael nodded, a smile bloomed. Kel’Thuzad gave her a handful of golden sansam and directed her to place the fat tubers directly on the coals, “But not too deep, don’t make me hunt for them in the fire.”
Next he pulled a short, straight knife off his belt and handed it to her. When Vael took it she could feel the static rush of magic jolt up her arm. It was a mageblade! A nice one too, its hilt was inlaid with mother of pearl and dark amber. “Can you break down these swiftthistle paddles? Here like this- watch,” he took back the mageblade and deftly popped a few thorns off the edges before handing both back to her.
But…it was so nice! Her mother would never use one of her mageblades to do something like this.
Apprehensive about nicking it, Vael was about to ask if he was certain. When she looked up the question died on her lips.
Kel'Thuzad was using his own claws and teeth to peel sticks of mageroyal.
She blinked once before looking down at her hands.
Honestly, she had no idea what to expect if they ever met, but it wasn’t this. She thought he would have been like how the Argent’s described him, cold, cruel, inhuman. Her mother had certainly thought he would be that way. In a sense, Vael believed them. The idea that he wouldn’t care to know her ate a pit in her stomach.
But then Ironforge happened. Kel’Thuzad had looked and acted like she imagined the man in her mother's photos might. He was nice to her even though they were strangers. It gave her a glimpse of what it might have been like to have a normal family.
Maybe that was why she had cried.
She got to work. The dagger was heavy and unwieldy but she did her best to preserve as much of the plant’s flesh as possible. Its neon sap stuck to her fingers and filled the air with a strong grassy smell.
Kel’Thuzad thanked her when she was done. He shredded the swiftthistle into long strips before dropping them into an old dented teapot along with some twists of goldthorn and nettles.
He had produced a few pans she noticed. All blackened with use. Vael knew that mages and wealthy adventurers often had bags that were enchanted to hold many things. Her mother had some, she was certain this was a similar case.
In one pot he tipped in a generous portion of the cranberries as well as the mageroyal hips Vael had crushed with the flat of the mageblade. He covered it and let it simmer.
“I think we can cook that fish with these wild onions,” he said, “do you like sagefish?”
Vael nodded. Sagefish weren’t very abundant down south. But in Dalaran and the surrounding townships pan fried sagefish was a common supper.
“Good-” he paused and examined the onions, “these are death camas. See how thin the bulbs are? Probably shouldn’t eat that. I don't think Modera would be very happy with me if you actually became a lichling.”
He chuckled to himself and tossed the offending plants into the fire.
Thrall rejoined them, the fish, now descaled and cleaned, dangling by its tail. “What do you want to do with this?”
Kel’Thuzad crooked a finger under his jaw and thought for a moment. “I don’t have much in the way of any spices, just salt,” he shrugged, “It’ll have to do,” he rummaged around in his pack for a moment before pulling out a bag and tossing it to Thrall, “here, but don’t go too crazy with it.”
Soon their little camp was filled with the sound and smell of sizzling fish. When the kettle whistled Vael and Thrall had a tin cup of tea. Sweet, grassy and minty, the thistle tea invigorated Vael and she was already starting to feel better than she had in days. She looked up at Kel’Thuzad who was chewing on one of the mageroyal sticks. “What's that?”
“Mageroyal absorbs magic from the ley lines. This helps me speed up my recovery,” he replied.
“So you’re weak right now?” Thrall asked.
The lich maneuvered the stick to the other side of his mouth, “If that’s what you want to think.”
Vael’s brows knit together. She’d sort of hoped they would get along- especially after Thrall had said nice things about him. Of course, the Horde and the Scourge had just engaged in a long war in Northrend…that the Scourge lost.
Maybe it was a stretch…
“The green dragons gave Thrall a magical artifact,” Vael said. She thought it might pique her father’s interest. Her mother called him a packrat by habit.
He did indeed perk up, red eyes alight with curiosity, “Did they now?”
Thrall’s lower lip bunched up against his tusks again, “It's nothing.”
“If it's a dragon made artifact it could help us get home,” Kel’Thuzad said reasonably.
Thrall scowled at the fire, debating with himself no doubt. Kel’Thuzad cocked his head and watched him like an owl might watch a mouse before striking.
Was it really so important that he didn’t want to share? Or maybe Thrall thought the Scourge having knowledge of it was dangerous for the Horde- or Azeroth as a whole. Eventually Thrall puffed out a sigh and fished through his pocket, pulling out a small drawstring cloth bag.
He tossed it in a slow arc over the fire. Kel’Thuzad caught it easily.
Vael watched his examinations. First, he held the bag in his freshly wrapped palm and poked at it with a finger. When it didn't react he loosed the drawstrings and picked it out with the tips of his claws.
She wished she could read his face for a clue to the acorn’s nature. She thought hard and imagined his thoughts -
Round with a tapered end, nutty brown, a cute woody cap.
“An acorn?” he asked after a long moment.
Thrall crossed his arms over his chest, “The dragon said it was very important.”
“I see,” he replied. Kel’Thuzad continued his examinations, tapping it to his tusk before giving it a sniff. Satisfied, he placed it back in its bag, “How did you come across this?”
Thrall recounted the story of how Ysera approached him with the plight of the Kaldorei in Feralas and how the green dragon, Desharin, gifted it to him before bringing him to the Caverns of Time.
Vael could see the lich’s eyes glaze over.
“It's just an acorn,” Kel’Thuzad said.
“Desharin said it contains all the knowledge of the tree that came before, and the one before that, going back to the birth of life!" Thrall said, “You just don’t get it because you're undead.”
“I am a botanist, I know how reproduction works.”
“This one is magic,” Thrall jumped up and Vael could see color darkening the bridge of his nose as he began to pace, “Why else would Ysera want me to go on that errand?”
“It’s an honor to be approached by a dragon aspect,” Kel’Thuzad offered.
“I am- was the Warchief of the Horde,” Thrall spat. The way he paced behind the fire reminded Vael of a lion she’d seen at the zoo. He’d seemed embarrassed to be there but certain it was only temporary. “I don’t run errands for anyone.”
“If an aspect asked me for help, I would gladly give it.”
“Feh, what would a dragon want from you? To raise the dead?”
Vael glanced at her father. His face was just a skull, but she could tell he was making a face at Thrall.
“I can do other things, you know,” he said dryly, “Just last year I grew a pineapple in Naxxramas. I dare you to find anyone else north of Stranglethorn who can do that.”
Thrall rolled his eyes. His back was turned to the lich but Vael could still see it. This wasn’t really turning out like she thought it might.
Eventually, Kel’Thuzad cleared his throat. “I don’t know if it's magical per say, but it might be about magic of the spiritual variety. As in, you’ll watch it grow and appreciate that the tree will continue on after you pass away. Like, how your deeds will live on after you,” Kel’Thuzad tossed the pouch back, “maybe Ysera thought you needed to hear that lesson.”
The ex-warchief looked a bit crestfallen at that.
“What if it’s just off?” Vael asked.
“Off?” Kel’Thuzad asked. They shared a look. Vael couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but she hoped he might get her gist. He ran the curve of his claw down a tusk, “I hadn’t considered that.”
“Can that happen?” Thrall asked.
“It’s possible for an enchanted artifact to lay dormant unless exposed to certain conditions,” he reached over and carefully flipped the fish, “Maybe it's just waiting for that special time.”
Thrall tucked the acorn back into its special place in his jacket next to his heart. Maybe it really was magical.
Dinner was served shortly after. Vael stared at her loaded tin plate of seared sagefish, buttery roasted sansams with a tart cranberry sauce. Kel’Thuzad even conjured some rolls for them, crunchy on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside (with butter).
They tucked in with gusto, thankful for real food after days of mana cakes. Vael wasn’t sure what she liked the most, but she did like the combo of the bread, sauce and fish. Sort of got all the flavors at the same time. She looked up, still chewing, only to find her father staring at her. Chewing slowed. Then she swallowed.
It was weird.
“...How is it?”
“A little bland,” Thrall said.
Kel’Thuzad ignored him.
“Good, I like it,” Vael said, “I wish you could have something.”
He made a thinking sound, head tilted to the side, “I must confess, all this running around has got me positively famished. Thrall says your conjurations are top notch. Can you make me one?”
Vael blinked. He wanted her to conjure him food? “You can eat?”
“Some things better than others.”
She didn’t know that. Where did it go? Vael wondered. She stole glances at his ribs and the frigid mist floating within. Did it just hang in there?
“If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I suppose I can just… starve,” he sighed dramatically, expelling a plume of mist.
Again she wondered what that might look like, he was already a skeleton. It's not like he could get much thinner.
Vael brought her hands together and drew the magic from within herself. A belly full of mana-enriched food lended her an abundance of power to draw upon. She felt better than she had in days and when she conjured the cupcake she felt none of the worn, hollow feeling that usually followed.
Kel’Thuzad accepted the pastry with the tips of his claws. Like with the acorn, she watched him sniff it and bring it close to one of his tusks then look at it this way and that. Her eyes went wide when he opened his mouth and brought it close to his sharp teeth. Was he really going to take a bite?
No. He paused, red eyes glancing at her expression and chuckled. “You just want to see me make a mess.”
He swiped the icing with a claw and Vael watched him rub it into the bone on the inside of his jaw. Little bits of pink squished out onto the other side of his back teeth. The rest of the cupcake dissolved into a tiny mote of mana that sank into his palm and became part of his subtle glow.
“Very good, thank you,” Kel’Thuzad rested his chin on his palm and thought for a moment. Vael couldn’t help shake the feeling that she was being studied.
“The icing is bitter,” she offered.
He tsked, “Don’t do that. Let your teacher- or me or your mother, tell you first,” he replied, “Most instructors don’t grade on taste. They might not have commented on it at all, except now they have a reason to because it's been brought up. That could be the difference between a pass and a fail.”
Vael hesitated, then nodded. He wasn’t actually hungry, she realized, he was trying to teach her something. She brightened up. They were having a magic lesson!
“What I was going to say, is that I see no issues with it structurally. It would already get you a pass on your first year examination.”
Vael beamed, he was impressed!
“But it is bitter and a little on the weaker side. I can see why you had to make so many,” Kel’Thuzad said, “What is the icing supposed to taste like?”
“Strawberry,” she replied, “Aunt Mimi uses jam in hers. Doomfinger said red always turns out bitter if you don’t have fruit on hand. It also said that we can make the icing any flavor- even swiftthistle if I tried.”
Kel’Thuzad sniffed a laugh, again mist puffed out from between his teeth, “That's true. We can try to change the flavor if you like.”
Vael nodded, then hesitated, “What would we use?” They had eaten all the cranberries and she didn’t have anything else that wouldn’t taste like grass.
More thinking as he tapped a claw against a tooth. His eyes brightened and the lich rummaged around in his pocket before pulling out a little wrapped candy. “Here,” he said, dropping it into her hand, “we can try with some of these.”
It was one of those strawberry candies with a gooey center. Her mother has these in her office… and she realized that's probably where it came from. Although… he was old. Old people were known to carry hard candies around with them.
But, she never considered that a lord of the Scourge might.
There were a few extra steps she had to go through before she could even attempt to fix the frosting. First Kel’Thuzad had her draw out the spell diagram for conjured food, then he quizzed her on how each of the steps in the chain worked together. She must have passed because he then gave her a little lecture on two ways to add things to conjurations.
“So you can’t have fruit and a very powerful conjuration?” Thrall asked. The orc lounged against a stump and watched Kel’Thuzad scratch out an equation in the dirt.
“The spell does have a tendency to unravel if the caster tries to do too much with it,” he explained, “that’s why more seasoned mages claim to make ‘sourdough.’ Their focus is on replenishment not taste, and magic can taste sour.”
Kel’Thuzad turned back to her and once again the dissonance of the situation struck. Again, he was a lich. A creature of death. Supposedly a sophisticated one. But he was also sitting cross legged in the dirt with pink frosting sticking out between his teeth. There were green smudges on his bones and his gray hair was windblown into disarray. Vael thought he looked more like the photos in her mother’s books.
Next to her Thrall crunched down on a candy and made a face, “The inside is waxy.”
“The syrup congeals when chilled,” Kel’Thuzad did not turn and his reply was flat. He motioned to his chicken scratch, “What do you think? Ready to give it a go?”
She nodded.
“Good. Make sure you unwrap it first, wouldn’t want it to taste like paper.”
Vael took a breath and drew her magic again, this time taking care to let it pass over the candy in her hands. The cupcake she conjured looked the same as every other one she had created. White cake, pink frosting. She gave the frosting a lick. Instead of a bitter, chemical taste, the icing was sweet. But it didn’t exactly taste like strawberry. “It tastes like fruit…wax.”
“Let me see,” Kel’Thuzad rubbed another bit of it into his jaw, “That is interesting. Try again, I think you’re getting close.”
So Vael conjured three more, the second one was somehow worse, bringing back the waxy texture and the astringent taste. The third one had the correct strawberry candy taste and the last one had the taste and the proper texture.
“I did it, I did it!” she leapt up and threw her arms around his ribs, “Did you see?”
Kel’Thuzad chuckled, “Of course, with practice and study you’ll be an archmage in no time.”
She looked up, his jaws were parted a bit and she thought it might be a smile- at least different from the normal rictus he sported. Vael tried to swallow her own smile. She couldn’t help but feel a little proud. Maybe a bit more than a little proud if she was honest with herself.
Kel’Thuzad could feel the slight pressure from Vael tightening her hold on him. She had a good grip, but she was a far cry from Patchwerk. The abomination was a firm believer in bone crushing hugs. He had to be gentle though. She was just a child and he didn’t want to hurt her or scare her.
Well, she wasn’t just a child. She was his child.
And she was a quick learner. “I wish I had more students like you,” he confessed, “students these days can be so tedious.”
He frequented all the major hubs of magical learning within and outside of the Scourge. Most mages had small goals, and lacked curiosity - a terrible quality. By his observations most of the students were either grubby ham radio enthusiasts or preoccupied with their own perverse fixations. Like Cassy’s friend Eugenia.
Kel’Thuzad never had a true apprentice during his time in Dalaran. He’d wanted Jaina, badly. But Antonitas caught wind of his intentions and out maneuvered him. Then when he founded the Cult, his position prevented him taking an apprentice, lest it be a mark of favoritism.
Now, he tutored Ghastly and the drake was a joy to teach, but he would spread his wings soon to leave his little nest. It would be the same with Vael. Modera would never let him teach her. But even if he could, Vael would have to fly away some day to be taught by someone ‘respectable’.
“If you work hard you might catch the eye of one of the other councilors,” Kel’Thuzad said, “Hopefully Ansirem if he sticks around for a few more years. Stay clear of Drenden and Aethas.”
Vael looked up at him, “You don’t like Aethas?”
“I just don’t think he is a very good teacher,” he deflected with a smooth half-lie, “I do hate Drenden though.” Stupid name, too.
Vael watched the mist in his chest swirl, “Mom wants to send me to Stormwind. I want to study in Dalaran.”
“I know,” he rubbed her back. Vael looked bone tired. The excitement from their little lesson had drained whatever second wind she had been granted by his arrival. The thistle tea would be perfect as a morning pick-me-up.
Night had fallen before dinner and it was late for someone who had ruck-marched all over the foothills. Vael was soon tucked away into an old quilt to sleep. Better than Thrall’s oilskin that she’d been using for the last few days.
He returned to the ‘kitchen’ fire where Thrall sat in apparent meditation. Kel’Thuzad sat too and considered communing with Atiesh. He wasn’t tired and assumed since he didn’t need to sleep he would be the one keeping watch all night. But before he could do anything, Thrall opened his eyes.
The two men stared at each other, quiet for a long moment. Irritation still sparked at the thought of Vael draining herself to the brink because of his negligence. But Vael also worried he would ‘be mean’ to the warchief.
He sniffed, a small puff of mist escaped between his teeth. He had done much meaner things to Thrall than throw a fish at him during his tenure as Archlich.
But, for her, and since they all needed to cooperate to get home, he would make an effort to get along.
“If you’re wondering if I am going to kill you, don’t. The Bronzes were explicit when they said I was to retrieve you alive,” Kel’Thuzad said in orcish, “I must confess I was quite pleased when I found you two together, because I really had no way of locating you otherwise.”
“Oh, good.”
“Indeed,” Kel’Thuzad leaned forward and rested his chin on his palm. Here was Thrall, ex-Warchief of the Horde. Liberator. Technically they were enemies. On paper at least. Kel’Thuzad had no real reason to dislike Thrall personally- or the Orcs in general. Sure he’d fought them in the Second War. But they drew his curiosity. He liked things that drew his curiosity.
As far as the Horde was concerned, Kel’Thuzad only really harbored negative feelings towards the Forsaken. They were unstable and dangerous.
He didn’t know if he could say the same for Thrall. Jaina was Thrall’s friend, she called him betrayer. Sylvanas- Kel’Thuzad doubted Thrall knew of their secret dealings. But even those weren’t enough to garner any sort of good will towards him. Plus…there was the time that he had led an assault on the Horde’s forward outpost in the Tundra.
And of course the recent destruction of Venomspite.
Kel’Thuzad suppressed a shudder. So maybe there were a few reasons for Thrall to dislike him. The lich had a feeling that he was going to have to do more than make him a home cooked meal if he wanted his trust.
“You have a strange accent,” Thrall said.
“I suppose there aren’t many orcs from the Shadowmoon Clan left,” Kel’Thuzad replied. He looked down and flicked a few pebbles with a claw, “that’s where all my teachers were from.”
“You used to see Bart in the keep,” Thrall said, “He would sneak cookies to me and tell me stories from Draenor. And about Rek’az the mage who was going to get himself in trouble.”
Kel’Thuzad huffed a laugh, expelling a cloud of mist. Silly human, “A good orcish name for me, wouldn’t you agree?”
Thrall, perhaps wisely, didn’t answer.
They fell silent, the babble of the river and calls of the night birds passed for conversation. Kel’Thuzad looked down at his notes from the earlier lesson. The symbols were still etched in the dirt.
The magical language stripped down to its base shared its vocabulary with many schools at this level. But not every tradition wrote their spells down. A fact the lich had to deal with when he was first pressed into Ner’zhul’s service.
Kel’Thuzad motioned to the diagram, an idea, a curiosity, percolating. “I saw you were following along with the lesson earlier. Who taught you to read a spell diagram?”
He furtively looked away, “Why do you think I can?”
“It’s not a secret language,” Kel’Thuzad said with a chuckle, “no one will punish you for knowing.”
“Jaina. She’s the best magic user I know and I wanted to understand how it worked.”
“Your teacher's answers were unsatisfactory?”
“No- they were fine. Well, I didn’t have much time for their council back then,” Thrall rubbed the back of his neck, no doubt running the Horde interfered with his spiritual growth. “They had their own problems too. Most had been cut off from the elements for so long…”
Kel’Thuzad nodded. Few old shaman remained from before the rise of the old Horde. Whatever Gul’dan did to sever their connection to the elements was permanent. At least for those who drank the blood of demons.
And now…Deathwing’s madness threw Azeroth’s elements into disarray. At least according to the reports he read. Kel’Thuzad’s gaze slid to the fire. If Thrall couldn’t communicate with the elements or his connection was out of balance then it could explain why they had relied on Vael’s wand fire.
He tapped a tooth. Of course that didn’t exactly explain why they hadn't started one the old- fashioned way…
“Ner’zhul’s severance was a common point of conversation. He dreamed often of their guidance,” which became his own dreams for a time, “Here let me show you something.”
Kel’Thuzad scratched out an equation, paused, smoothed it out and re-drew it. Another examination before he was satisfied. He scooted to the side and looked up expectantly. Unfortunately Thrall was forced to leave the comfort of his stump.
Thrall rested his chin on his fist and furrowed his brow. Kel’Thuzad watched Thrall’s eyes roam through the diagram, recognition and realization clear. He looked up sharply, “What is this?”
“Have you ever tried to map out a shaman’s spell?”
“Is that what this is?”
“Yes. It’s the base form for a fire spell. Here is where the modifier goes if the caster is deep in nah lok’osh,” Kel’Thuzad replied as he indicated a section with a claw.
“You know about that?”
“Naturally,” spirit-song's dance, a trance-like state that allowed the shaman and his elemental patron to synchronize their power on the physical plane. Dangerous long term, but few could maintain the state for long enough to burn out. Kel’Thuzad had been on the receiving end of a few gouts of lava enough to know its potency.
“Vael did say her father knew about orcish shamanism. I shouldn’t have been surprised when turned out it was you.”’
Kel’Thuzad crossed his arms, “Of course it was me,” he said, full of faux outrage, “Who else could it have been? And don’t say Arthas. That boy knew appallingly little about it even after they merged.”
“She also doesn’t look like him.”
“That too.”
“What is this part here?” Thrall asked, pointing to three triangles, the one in the center missing its bottom, “I’ve never seen this.”
“Ah, that is the caster acting as a bridge between the leyline and fire,” Kel’Thuzad explained, “It shares the shape of fire with the other triangles but operates on a different level of matter. The caster essentially takes the role of the missing elemental patron. Metaphysically speaking. See- I even included this limiter so the caster can’t overdraw from the leyline and combust.”
The lich lord looked up from the diagram to find Thrall examining the spell’s casting parameters.
“I always said, ‘if you can map it you can cast it.’ When you have to make an army of necromancers fast you start thinking of ways to make magic more...intuitive,” Kel’Thuzad said with a shrug, “There's a reason why almost anyone can pick up and cast the spells we commonly associate with death knights. They’re designed that way.”
“You’re saying you could actually teach me how to do that purple, grabby lasso thing?”
Boiling blood, harnessing the winter wind, summoning hordes of zombies- and Thrall’s first choice was how to magically pull things towards him. Kel’Thuzad chuckled. He would probably be an excellent death knight. He was tempted, briefly, to disobey the bronze dragons but thought better of it. Modera would be too cross. “Yes, if that's what you want.”
For a moment Thrall seriously considered it, before growing grave. He shook his head, “I shouldn’t. It would be wrong. Even this,” he motioned to the map, “If I tried to circumvent the elements my teacher would call it a perversion.”
“Ner’zhul felt the same way. Said it was ‘unnatural’,” Kel’Thuzad replied with a shrug.
“Why are you showing me all this?”
“It’s interesting. I thought you might want to see a different perspective. Ner’zhul was stuck in a block of ice. His view was limited.”
“Perspective…” Thrall pulled the small drawstring bag out of his breast pocket and gently tipped the acorn into his palm. He stared at it for a long moment. “This has all the knowledge of every tree that came before it.”
Kel’Thuzad nodded. It was a seed after all.
“Someday it could grow into a tree,” he closed his fist around the acorn, “but it doesn’t need to be told how, it already has that power.”
“Correct.”
Thrall looked at the spell map again before placing the acorn back into his pocket. Kel’Thuzad watched the wheels turning in the orc’s head and smiled to himself. It looked like Thrall may be an interesting student too.