Dalaran.
Having returned from Quel'Thalas (Azshara was kind enough to drop him right at the academy gates), Lin launched into a flurry of activity, mainly concerning changing Jaina's curriculum and preparing for future battles, as well as a possible emergency "relocation" to any place whatsoever. Since he had gained access to free Mana, why not use it?
And so, a couple of weeks had passed since the meeting with Azshara, and Lin and Jaina were still in a state of reflection, pondering the news brought and thinking over the prospects, while the girl was also consumed by strong anxiety for her relatives remaining in Kul Tiras. At the moment, it was time for their mentor's teaching hours, and the pair was serving their time as usual in the residence of the head of the Kirin Tor, reading books.
"Pupils, stop moping!" for once, Antonidas graced his charges with his personal presence, but as it turned out, not at all to share knowledge. "Go and pick up an order."
Lin glanced at Jaina's pale face; she was staring blankly at a book. The girl, by all indications, hadn't even noticed the appearance of the head of the academy. He sighed almost imperceptibly and answered the teacher:
"I'll go. Where and for what?.."
Ten minutes later, the young man was already walking through the paved streets of the city toward the first destination… Yes, indeed! Under the word "order" lay a list, though it fit on a single sheet, consisting of far more than one or two items.
After visiting the third location, which turned out to be a modest-looking smithy, Lin began to lose his temper. At first, he thought it was bad luck, but then he suspected that Antonidas had specifically come up with such a task to stir up his students: after all, problems arose with every item on the order: with the price, the quantity, the quality, or all together! And he had to talk, delve in, talk, delve in, persuade, threaten… And it would be one thing if it happened once, well, twice, but not three times out of five?! He had already spent half a day on what could have been done in an hour at most, and that was if moving through the city at a leisurely pace. And he hadn't even been to the last two points yet… He has a Battle for Azeroth coming up, and he's here doing who knows what! And in two weeks, the "young" researcher still hadn't managed to compile the results of all his research to pass to the elves…
In short, Lin approached the jewelry workshop moody and full of all sorts of suspicions. And his fears began to be justified a good ten paces before the house, the door of which, by the way, was ajar, and it was this circumstance that allowed the conversation being conducted inside in raised tones to become public knowledge not only to Lin, but to any other curious passersby.
"…Five hundred gold for this useless piece of glass?!" a ringing girl's voice sounded indignantly.
"Useless?! Glass?!" a male raspy voice was no less indignant. "For your information—this is a genuine crimson ruby! Properly cut and Enchanted! Do you even know how rarely such rubies are found in Tin Ore deposits?! Why, this price is almost the cost of this beautiful stone itself! If I didn't cut and enchant them myself, they would cost all of six hundred! And I'm giving it to you for only half a thousand as a sign of respect for famous Gnome Engineers!"
"For that price, I'll buy a bag of ordinary ones, as I usually do! It's crazy—five hundred gold! How could you even bring yourself to set such an inflated price?! Is this not the famous Dalaran—the city of skilled Mages? Have I fallen in with hucksters?"
"Fear your gears, Gnome!" the seller showed his knowledge of Engineering matters. "I buy them myself for four hundred, plus materials, plus cutting and enchantment—five hundred gold is a fair price!"
"Four hundred what? Copper or silver? And what materials for a hundred? Where has it been seen that for cutting, besides the stone and the chisel, you need some kind of consumables?! And the work? Whispering over the stone for a couple of minutes, making a few passes, spending Mana that recovers on its own—and that's it! What is there to pay such insane money for?!"
"For a unique exclusive!" the seller declared adamantly. Pride and pathos mixed in his words, making them more… tangible.
"R-r-r!.." came from the shop, followed by the sounds of scuffling. "Miser! Just you come to us for some kind of cutter! You'll be paying for it in diamonds! By weight!"
Lin couldn't tell if the buyer was trying to drive the price down or was truly outraged by the ongoing lawlessness. Listening in, the young Mage slowed down, and then, stepping onto the last step of the porch, stopped entirely before the entrance. Therefore, when a Gnome with two fluffy pigtails of ash-colored hair on the sides of her head suddenly burst out of the shop, not even touching the door but simply slipping through the ajar crack, he didn't have time to dodge, not immediately noticing the Midget girl. For such a short person, the young subject of the widely known Gelbin Mekkatorque possessed enough mass to knock the Archmage's apprentice off his feet…
Many residents preferred to leave the first floor as a basement and made the entrance to the building, essentially, from the second floor—simply so as not to burden themselves with earthworks. And the shop owner, who was concurrently a master cutter and an enchantment specialist, was just such a person—lazy, or simply stingy with money for hired diggers. In short, the unlucky pair tumbled down the by no means short staircase. The counting of the steps of the high porch was accompanied by swearing in Elvish, ouching in Gnomish, and the metallic clanking of tools from the engineer's gear, which seemed to express their dissatisfaction with meeting the stone steps. There were also suspicious crunches, cracks, and the sounds of breaking glass coming from the bag with Antonidas's order, which boded nothing good for the Archmage's things.
The swearing ended when Lin tried to fix the situation and slow his rapid movement toward the pavement, but whether he failed to account for the weight of the ruby hunter or messed something up—in short, something went wrong, and the light that enveloped the guy remained just light, while his nape meanwhile met the stone of the roadway. Meanwhile, the "Oh-oh-oh!" turned into a plaintive moan "U-u-u!" when the Gnome girl, having introduced her ribs to the steps, ended up lying on the Human she had knocked down. Moreover, the pose was quite compromising. Which was immediately reported by a busybody among the passersby who had been eavesdropping on the conversation and thus became witnesses to the fiasco of the two jewelry shop customers:
"After that, you'll have to marry him."
"More likely, she'll have to go to prison for the murder of the pupil of the head of the Kirin Tor council," another of the onlookers turned out to be sufficiently well-versed in the current political layout to identify the guy serving as a mattress for the Gnome.
Shaking her head, Trixie Quicksnap came to and found herself sitting on a young Human guy, in a position slightly below the stomach, resting her hands on his chest. A bashful "Oh!" escaped her slightly parted mouth, and her freckles became even more clearly visible on her heavily flushed face, but at that same moment, a blue light burst from one of the many pockets of the apprentice engineer, which enveloped a significant area around the epicenter and then vanished with a hiss, taking the unlucky pair with it to unknown distances… A piece of the pavement and part of the stairs also vanished, leaving behind a melted hollow in the shape of a hemisphere. A pop sounded, and air rushed into the vacated space.
It wasn't that Trixie intended to use the strange-looking device given to her by her sister for her last birthday and declared as a "Wormhole generator that returns a beloved little sister to their very best gear-head home from anywhere!". No, she didn't intend to—after all, this box with a blue crystal didn't look like a standard generator at all, and you don't exactly expect a functional master-level product from an apprentice engineer! But what the Gnome hadn't foreseen was the unexpected meeting of the fragile gift, despite the protective cap of the storage crystal, with one of the steps, after which the aforementioned crystal cracked, and the device, in theory, should have become completely useless! And, as practice showed—in vain…
…
A few minutes after the incident. Antonidas's residence.
Rumors spread fast, and in the city of mages—even faster.
"Jaina!" a loud voice rang out in the student living room—the master of the house had decided to use a magical connection. "Lin has been kidnapped!"
At first, the girl flinched at the shout, and then, when the meaning of the teacher's words reached her, sincere amazement appeared on her face, giving rise to the exclamation:
"What?!"
But then the girl came to her senses, strong anxiety appeared on her face, and her first constructive thought was "Elves?". But the partner's sworn assurances immediately came to her mind—that all issues with his former kin had been settled. And she was inclined to believe them, because the monstrously increased rate of Mana recovery that Lin had demonstrated upon returning from Azshara's domain was hard to attribute to problems with the elves; rather the opposite—the parties had parted satisfied with each other. Therefore, easily maintaining surprise on her face, Jaina clarified:
"Who?"
"Gnomes," followed the short and at the same time mind-blowing answer, which drove the princess, who had already begun to panic, into a stupor.
"… ."
And it was unclear what was more staggering—that the former Archmage could be kidnapped at all, or that it was done by the shorties who didn't meddle in politics and were by no means brilliant in the field of magical sciences…
------------------//------------------
Drustvar Island.
It cannot be said that there was nothing but mountains on the southwestern island of the Kul Tiras archipelago. No, there was. But the lion's share of this piece of land, which represented no strategic or economic value, was covered precisely by mountains in all their glory. Crowned with caps, and some with entire blankets of snow, the rocky peaks dominated over other natural beauties. Ridges encircled the stone giants, followed by a chain of uplands and hills, and from there it was a stone's throw to the coast, and in some places there wasn't an inch of land between the mountains and the sea—rocky ledges plunged directly into the salt water.
That the malfunctioning Engineering teleportation device transported the owner with her new "acquaintance" specifically to the mountains was the result of that very malfunction and the inaccurate geographical mapping to Ironforge performed by the clumsy hands of sister Gemma; and that the destination turned out to be Drustvar specifically was a mere coincidence, for Azeroth had plenty of other places where "stone, snow, and wind" reigned supreme.
The arrival of the guests on the most unfriendly of the islands of Kul Tiras was not without its mishaps. The swirls of the blizzard playing over the valley coalesced at some point into a single, opaque sphere of snow, from which two figures fell from a height of ten meters, accompanied by debris from the transport—mostly chunks of paving stones and stairs. It is unknown what would have happened if the humans had won the race from the point of emergence to the ground; it is quite possible the stones would not have "forgiven" such insolence and would have simply killed the champions with blows to the head. But in this case, things didn't turn out too well for the involuntary travelers either, especially for the guy who showed masculine prowess and overtook the Gnome in flight. However, he was mounted, which meant he had a head start, and so victory went to him without effort—which could not be said for the consequences of meeting the ground. No, the secluded valley itself was filled to the brim with snow, but beneath it were bare rocks without a trace of earth. The snow in this mountain valley had lain for centuries, yielding to the sun only in exceptionally anomalous hot years. The "softness" of the landing was further compromised by the aforementioned falling debris. And the guy's head suffered once again from an acquaintance with overly hard objects, but this time other parts of his body took a hit as well—after all, falling from a ten-meter height is no joke, even considering the three-meter cushion of soft snow on top and packed snow at the bottom of the drift.
"A-a-..."
The girl's scream that accompanied the downward motion was abruptly cut off, muffled by the thickness of the snow. The sounds of the blizzard reigned once more in the mountains, rapidly sweeping over the hollow in the snowdrift, which strongly resembled a human figure with arms and legs spread wide.
Trixie, if she was flustered at all, was so for no more than five seconds. Ten years of living and practicing with young, promising engineers, where truly anything could happen, had tempered her character. So what if she was a bit bruised on her sides and knees, and snow had packed itself into every possible and impossible place, and the ruby hunter herself was sitting on something a modest girl like her shouldn't be sitting on... she had seen worse. Despite the fact that Goblins were considered the specialists in breakdowns and unforeseen situations, their colleagues were also "capable, skilled, and practiced"... "I remember once..." *Ptooey. Kha,* the girl coughed and tried to clear the clinging snow from her face. "...how a red-hot nut from an exploding gravity well rolled across the explosives stockpile—how we didn't level half of Ironforge back then, I still don't understand..."
While her head was filled with memories, her labor-accustomed hands did the necessary work, reclaiming space from the snow under the light of a miniature flashlight, and soon an artificial cavity formed under the drift, maintaining its volume thanks to the compressed snow. The contour of the creation was far from a perfect circle, more resembling a sarcophagus, and its size barely accommodated a human—the structure looked crooked and not very reliable, but Trixie decided that for the time being, to get her bearings, it would suffice. If the Tuskarr had seen this creation, they would have surely praised the creator for returning to her roots, but at the same time, they would have noted that igloos had long been out of fashion, while yarangas were quite popular these days...
The Gnome knew nothing of any sentient walruses of Northrend and, having dealt with the primary problem, was trying to figure out how to solve the next three equally important tasks: revive the stranger who was injured because of her, warm the built shelter, and somehow break through the ceiling to ensure a flow of fresh air. Her hands, frozen to the limit from messing with the snow, were warming very poorly from her breath, and the snow that had jammed into all sorts of places had melted and soaked her clothes, which added no positive emotions but did add a sincere desire to start with the question of heating.
"Starting a fire isn't a problem," the future great grandmaster of Engineering began to reason in a whisper. "I can do it in ten different ways, but the catch is I have nothing to maintain it with! I'm not a Goblin to carry explosives around! And besides," she began to develop the thought, "even if I light a fire, we'll suffocate here in five minutes, and that brings me back to the third task..."
The girl stared at the ceiling but shook her head: no, theoretically one could make bricks out of snow to climb to the very top and pick through the place where they fell, but by then she would have frozen to death.
"If I had materials, I'd whip up some heat source that doesn't consume oxygen. But all I have is a standard kit, a few tools for checking gemstone quality, and a couple of trinkets—gifts from my sister. By the way..." Trixie began to conduct an inventory of those very "trinkets," one of which had transported her and the passerby to unknown distances, hoping to find something useful, if not in the purpose of the baubles themselves, then at least in their components. However, this time she was out of luck: magnets on strings and light-shielding goggles were not what the situation required.
The study of her bag dragged on for a full ten minutes; she didn't touch the other person's—it was unlikely there were piles of firewood or oil reserves there. The Gnome approached the responsible task thoughtfully and thoroughly shook out her belongings, not missing a single pocket. At some point, Trixie realized that she wasn't actually that cold anymore. The realization of this circumstance allowed her to switch her brain, previously concentrated on solving the heating problem, to other tasks. Glancing again at the icy ceiling sparkling in the flashlight's beam, she involuntarily turned to the last question, unfairly demoted in priority, and at that same moment realized she was still perched on the motionless body... motionless, but so warm!
Surprised, Trixie touched the human and felt a noticeable difference in temperature. Unconsciously placing both cold palms on his chest, she closed her eyes with a relaxed look, feeling the warmth penetrate her frozen hands. Soon, the thirst for knowledge prevailed over the nirvana that had overtaken the girl, and Trixie, opening her eyes, began to study her companion in misfortune, who had started being useful without even regaining consciousness.
"A Mage. Human. Very young, practically my age. You could say a beardless youth," the Gnome noted, examining the clothes, the gold medallion with the symbol of the Kirin Tor, and finally the bag, which contained gadgets of unclear purpose. "Well, a Mage is a Mage, young—but what to do?" the girl puzzled, finding nothing useful in her companion's things.
Looking up once more, Trixie shivered, remembering the blizzard raging out there. Lowering her gaze, the Gnome began, out of boredom, to study the human's face, but immediately froze when one of the abrasions decorating his left cheek healed right before her eyes. She knew absolutely nothing about medical aid, but she had learned well from personal experience—which she would have been happy to minimize, but... engineers are like that—that wounds don't heal that fast.
"So, it turns out I don't have to do anything?" Trixie reached a logical conclusion. "There's heat, the Mage will wake up on his own, and oxygen... in principle, without a fire, it should last a long time, but if not... well, I'll just throw something upward, breaking through the snow cap... And if..."
Having warmed up, the girl went soft; the fatigue accumulated during her wandering through Dalaran and trading with its greedy inhabitants began to take its toll. Trixie didn't notice how, falling asleep, she lay down on the "heater" and tried to hug it, thereby increasing the contact area with the hot surface. Rational activity in the burrow of the involuntary travelers ceased, and while one of them was simply sleeping, the second was just transitioning from a semi-conscious state into sleep. And all this under the light of the flashlight that had never been turned off and the sounds of the wind outside the "roof"...
***
Kul Tiras, Boralus.
Any educated resident of the human kingdoms knew what the power and wealth of Kul Tiras rested upon. The fleet. The number of warships, transports, and merchant vessels reached triple digits, which was several times the sum of the vessels of all other neighbors on the continent, including even the Elves. However, the latter were no benchmark—the arrogant Pointy-Ears had a long-standing and quite understandable dislike for the open waters, and therefore all their little ships could be counted literally on the fingers of one hand. The maritime trade of Stormwind, Lordaeron, and others, given the presence of such a strong competitor, was not very developed.
Yes. Anyone could point to the fleet. But far from every such expert knew that the ships came with a serious addition. Water magic. And even if the Mages had nothing to do with Dalaran and the Kirin Tor and called themselves Priests, passing off their sorcery as blessings—tradition, nothing to be done—it in no way affected the effectiveness of maritime spells. The winds favored them, the waves helped, the ships sailed faster—in short, trade prospered. Except...
A bearded man of stout build in a naval uniform stood on the balcony, his frowning face exposed to the gusts of wind playing with fine drops of rain. The weather matched the mood of the King of Kul Tiras—the famous Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. Loyal men had reported that all was not well in the Stormsong domain. Had this family been some ordinary aristocrats, the Admiral might not have paid attention to the warning signs guessed in the penultimate reports and clearly reflected in the last message. But it was the Stormsongs who controlled the Mages who called themselves "Sea Priests," and they were the second most influential power in the country. Second only to him, the King—and that was a serious political force! And for that very reason, Daelin had absolutely no desire to organize internal strife during this difficult time, when the shadow of death literally hung over all of Azeroth...
"If, of course, Azshara didn't lie at the gathering of kings a couple of years ago, and the sea monsters off the coast aren't just a single migration," the not-yet-old Admiral sighed and plunged back into thought, not noticing the intensifying rain and wind. "If only it were that simple... Treason! Sea monsters feel right at home in Stormsong Valley, entering the Stormsong temple and even negotiating something with these traitors! I can't believe it! Greedy fools..."
There was a persistent drumming at the door, clearly audible despite the outdoor noise. Daelin immediately distracted himself from his mental denunciations of the apostates and frowned even more, though it seemed impossible—he wasn't expecting anyone, and few were permitted to bang a fist against the door of his study.
"Enter!"
When the door opened and one of his personal aides appeared behind it, the Admiral realized something had happened again—beads of sweat rolled down the pale face of the uninvited visitor, and the man himself was breathing heavily, as if he had run all the way from the palace gates... Or perhaps not "as if."
"Your Majesty!" barely crossing the threshold, the loyal servant dropped to one knee and continued without waiting for permission. "Disaster, Your Majesty! A monster invasion! Stormsong Valley has been taken!"
"What?! The whole island?!" the King's surprise was understandable: the northern archipelago occupied an area as large as the two southern ones and the western one combined: Drustvar, Tiragarde Sound, and Mechagon. And to capture half of Kul Tiras in a matter of hours—that was the most nonsensical news he had heard in his entire life, making it hard not just to believe, but even to imagine such a situation. "What makes you say that?! What about the fort, the strongholds?!"
"Refugees who miraculously escaped are coming through the northern gates of the capital!" the aide who brought the ill tidings began to answer in order. "Daelin is silent, smoke is visible over the Norwington estate. Everything was just confirmed: the Mages conducted reconnaissance, Your Highness—Stormsong Valley is crawling with snake-legs, fish-men, and those with tentacles..."
"Mobilize all garrisons and call for someone from the Dalaraners! Warn the southern outposts, and prepare the ships!" orders poured out one after another, but questions found their place among them too: "Why wasn't I told immediately when the people brought the first news?! How much time has passed since the start?!"
The two of them ran out of the study and, ignoring the anxiously glancing guards, ran deep into the palace.
"I found out half an hour ago, but the news sounded too incredible, and I gave the order to verify everything..."
The run took on alarming proportions. Someone joined them, while others, having received an instruction, dropped out of the race immediately or in time, waiting for the necessary fork in the path.
The spontaneously organized marathon ended in a huge hall, in the center of which stood a round table. The tabletop was occupied by a fairly detailed map of the eastern continent and Kul Tiras. Even more maps, especially nautical ones, lay on tables set along the walls and were kept in tubes placed in special racks. One could say this room was perfectly suited for a headquarters in case of military action. And it had already been used in this capacity once, when the Orcs invaded Azeroth, and at some point, it turned out that the green-skinned brutes were quite knowledgeable in maritime affairs, and also—they built ships quickly and knew how to handle them.
Except the scale of the disasters then and now was incomparable—in those days, Kul Tiras participated exclusively in naval battles, leaving land battles to the Systems Alliance, and the battles were fought exclusively on foreign territories. The peaceful residents of the maritime kingdom had not known war for a very, very long time... Probably since the formation of the country, when the Empire of Arathor was torn by internal contradictions and provinces, the future kingdoms, fought with each other, trying to snatch choice pieces from their neighbors. Now, everything was different.
"...We must call the Lordaeronians for help! They promised!"
"Let the Mages contact Dalaran, we need magical support!"
"First, we must inform the Elves!"
"Maybe we should prepare for evacuation?"
"Coward! We must bring out the fleet and..."
"...And sink at the exit of the bay? The sea is swarming with them! It's one thing to fight ships, another to fight these monsters!"
"Has it ever been seen—we lost the largest island in half a day! We can't handle them! We need to evacuate to the mainland!.."
"Yes, right! Fighting equal opponents is one thing, but dying for nothing is quite another!"
The discussion of further plans turned into a heated argument, and then into unanswered shouts. Panic gripped the officers and aristocrats. Only the King remained silent and gloomily watched the squabble. Daelin would have been happy to intervene, but on one hand, he was waiting for news from the mainland and couldn't decide on a strategy without that information, and on the other—it was to his advantage that the powers that be weren't interfering with him quietly giving orders. Sometimes, just like now, he deeply regretted that his power in the country was not absolute, but rested on three pillars: the navy, the merchant fleet, and his own.
"How good it is that at least Jaina is safe now..." the man, who appeared to have aged ten years in an instant, sighed sadly.
They say that to make the gods laugh, you should tell them your plans. But Fate sometimes needs only a thought to intervene and start laughing at hapless mortals.
"Father!"
In the doorway, which had not been closed for the last half hour, stood a girl slightly taller than average. A hooded cloak hid her figure and part of her face, but the embroidery with magical symbols and the sign of the Kirin Tor, as well as the staff in the girl's hands, clearly said that a Mage stood on the threshold of the headquarters. Perhaps young, but already capable of commanding forces inaccessible to ordinary folk. And the voice and blonde hair of the young princess could be identified by everyone present.
"Jaina!" the Admiral gasped, and his right hand instinctively went to his chest, over his heart: the latter had reacted too violently to yet another surprise. "In the name of the sea, what are you doing here?!"
"Dalaran has answered your call for help, Daelin," replied a tall old man who followed the girl as she rushed to her father.
"Antonidas, old friend!" the Admiral immediately livened up at the sight of the Archmage; however, the same could be said for his subjects, who fell silent at the princess's appearance. "I am glad to see you, more than ever!"
"I don't doubt it," the old Archmage, who had come to the aid of the allied kingdom and his old acquaintance, smiled. "What is the situation?"
"Stormsong Valley is swarming with sea monsters—they appeared suddenly all along the coast and headed for the center of the island. There have been no attacks on the capital yet, but monsters have begun to appear on the coast of Tiragarde Sound. Reports from Watch Hill say smoke is visible over Fallhaven—apparently they decided to capture Drustvar next. And also—the Stormsongs have betrayed us, they are in league with the monsters," the Admiral briefly outlined the situation, casting sharp glances at his deeply agitated beloved daughter, and added at the end, looking distressed: "The fleet is of no use: the sea is very restless."
"Hmm..." Antonidas drawled, examining the illusion of a squad of monsters captured by one of the Mages who had conducted reconnaissance, and then unexpectedly asked out of nowhere, clearly to break the funeral mood: "One point has always interested me—what idiot named the island Stormsong Valley? What does a valley have to do with it? What do storms have to do with it?"
"Well, there really are storms there..." one of the officers present cautiously remarked once the question had settled in his mind.
"No more often than in other places," the leader of the reinforcement that arrived via teleport said flatly, and immediately launched into activity: "Apprentice, ensure constant surveillance of the approaches to Boralus," and then clarified, "From all sides. We need to organize signals and start strengthening the walls, and also..." he turned to the assistant standing behind him.
He tried to load the somber Jaina with work; that's why he had brought her with him, despite the possible displeasure of her parents, with whom it would also be good for her to talk. Besides, as the Archmage himself reasonably believed from his point of view, the apprentice was safe with him, whereas staying alone in Dalaran she might do something foolish out of romantic distress. And yes—Antonidas knew perfectly well that the relationship between his apprentices was somewhat different from just friendly... in a good way. He also knew that his second apprentice was quite complex and hid much... but the old Mage, having been convinced of Lin's loyalty, turned a blind eye to it.
"...and finally, where is Anasterian?"
Modera silently shrugged her shoulders, as if to say the Elf was outside her competence—after all, he too was a member of the Council of Six. The head of that very council chewed his lips in dissatisfaction at the lack of necessary information and instructed one of the underlings crowding in the corridor:
"Find the Elven ambassador and invite him here."
Meanwhile, Jaina finished her spellcasting, and one of the free walls was taken up by several magical screens showing what fell under the effect of "All-Seeing Eye" type spells. And the picture was not encouraging—too many monsters were gathering at the three northern passes to the capital, and they were doing it too organized for ordinary movements. Fortunately, two of the three approaches to Boralus were fairly narrow bridges, and the third was closed off by a fortress. However, Antonidas was not deceived, perfectly aware that the monsters were sea creatures—and the fact that the capital was essentially built in the middle of a strait, on islands and artificial embankments, was a serious vulnerability in the defense in this case, giving the enemy the opportunity to attack from almost any side. N'Zoth was definitely not an idiot and was unlikely to act on unfavorable terms. Overall, the only thing the old Archmage sincerely wished for at the moment was that the Ancient One himself would not personally pay a visit; as for the creatures crawling out of the sea depths, they would take care of them... provided there weren't many monsters of Archmage level there.
"I'm afraid to disappoint you, Daelin, but the enemies don't care about Drustvar; they will soon attack the capital."
"Can you transport the residents to the mainland via portals?" if previously the King had not seriously considered the possibility of evacuation (who would let them sail away on ships?), now, with the arrival of the Mages, the chances of saving the people in case of defeat had become non-zero.
"Forgive me, I forgot to say—stationary portals began to be prepared as soon as we arrived," Antonidas nodded. "We will transport everyone we can before the battle, if the enemy doesn't interfere with their operation."
"Well, thank the gods," the man, who did not part with his famous tricorn hat even indoors, exhaled in relief.
At that moment, more people in cloaks with the Kirin Tor symbol arrived, and the leader of the magical support group turned away to hear reports. Daelin, meanwhile, noticed that his daughter wasn't straining much to maintain the spells, and there were plenty of others to handle the surveillance: nearly a third of the people in the assembly hall were crowded around the magical screens. Therefore, he quietly called her over and, while there was time and his direct involvement in management wasn't required, began to question her about life in the Dalaran academy: after all, they hadn't seen each other in person for almost a year. And overall, the conversation went quite normally, but as always happens, a "but" arose. Being from that breed of overprotective fathers, Daelin ignored many things related to his beloved daughter, such as flaws, but at the same time reacted very sharply to dangers and threats arising on her life path, and also zealously monitored her personal life. Therefore, he caught a slight hesitation in her voice at a half-joking question about her personal life: for some reason, he thought Jaina had devoted herself entirely to magic, and observing her successes during the holidays and hearing the glowing reviews of his old friend, he had every reason for that.
"Everything is... fine, Dad."
"Do you have someone?" the man immediately frowned, ceasing to be a king and turning into a Father. "Who is it? I hope it's not some smooth-faced young drifter?"
"He's a Mage, Father. A strong one," after thinking, the princess decided to confess to having a significant other—in that case, in her opinion, better sooner than later. "You, as I recall, hinted yourself to choose a groom from among the Mages."
"I'm not arguing... But still, can you tell me who he is?"
"..." the girl paused, but her father's gaze did not become any less demanding, and she confessed: "His name is Lin, and he is also an apprentice of Antonidas."
"Hmm... The old fox won't take just anyone under his wing... But wait a minute!" the man started, clearly remembering something. "Someone told me that the head of the Kirin Tor took some boy under his wing! Is that him? How old is he?"
"Sixteen... he's only two years younger than me!" she immediately stood up in defense of her chosen one against possible attacks.
"Youth will pass. The main thing is that he keeps his head on his shoulders," he replied distractedly, but then immediately perked up: "By the way, is he here? Will you introduce us?" Daelin inquired, as if casually.
"He's not here," the girl answered reluctantly, frowning again: she didn't like the hint about losing one's head—after all, you can't keep kings from wanting to send someone to the block.
"And where is he?" the man asked predictably, caring for his daughter's happiness almost more than she did herself.
The Admiral suspected that the suitor hadn't appeared before his girlfriend's parents for a reason—it became obvious to the worried father that his daughter's choice was either hiding something and was generally a scoundrel and a villain, or was not as ideal as Jaina undoubtedly imagined him to be, which meant he was also a rascal and a gigolo, unworthy not just of his angel's hand, but even of breathing the same air as her!.. Thinking and working himself up in this manner, he suddenly realized he had let his own flesh and blood's answer slip past his ears.
"What did you say, sorry?"
The expressive look filled with indignation that followed, Daelin did not take personally. After a pause, the girl repeated what she had said earlier:
"He was teleported somewhere because of a failed spell. Someone else's spell," she specifically emphasized this fact, guessing possible complaints about the strength of her teacher and boyfriend combined.
The specialists sent by Antonidas to the site of the apprentice's abduction had figured out what happened at the jewelry shop, but the Gnomes' "artifacts" worked on completely different principles, and they couldn't determine the destination. Almost a day had passed since the incident, and Jaina was worrying more and more—after all, Lin had a connection to the Elven Well and had no problems with Mana for building a portal, and certainly no lack of knowledge about spatial magic. Yet Lin simply didn't appear, and Jaina, like any self-respecting girl, had to think up the reasons for his delay herself. She did so independently, thoughtfully, and thoroughly, devoting all her free time to it, and therefore working herself up immensely.
The girl, already on the threshold of receiving the coveted title of "Archmage," had a fine imagination, and so many ideas had gathered, ranging from bringing up the "old" theme of abduction by Gnomes to a sudden flare of love for the "abductress." Logic found it hard to argue with a woman's possessive instinct, especially when an illusion showing the Gnome reached her. Of course, she wasn't prettier than her, but... Jealousy threw up memories that her chosen one had recently been very interested not only in the devices of Gnomeregan but also in the engineers who inhabited it. Fortunately, her credit of trust in Lin was huge, and such versions of what happened with a romantic component were discarded as nonsensical hypotheses... for now. After all, very little time had passed, and who knows what happened there...
True, while inventing theories, she took into account the fact that Lin was still alive. Jaina had asked to have the same kind of artifact made for her with which the Elves from Kalimdor had found him, and at the same time, she had learned to make such things herself. And now she could track his condition and approximate location. After all, he had made one for his former lover, so why was she any worse? And, as the girl noted, the teleportation to Boralus had significantly shortened the distance between her and her beloved, which meant he was somewhere to the west...
"...Jaina?" this time it was Daelin's turn to pull his daughter out of her reverie.
"Sorry, did you ask something?"
But further communication was interrupted by Antonidas calling out to his apprentice:
"Jaina, we need you, come here!"
The minutes of peace had come to an end.
***
Drustvar Island.
The effect of the passively triggered healing spell from the school of Druidism ended deep in the night. Perhaps the healing sleep into which Lin had sunk at the end of the main effect of the cast spell could have lasted until morning, but it was the restorative magic that provided the body with warmth, reacting to the cold as a hostile effect to be fought. At the same time, the guy who had gotten into the mess woke up not because "it got cold outside," but because the one his magic was warming had frozen—it was the Gnome who woke the young Mage who had recently become a father. In search of warmth, she tried to burrow into the cooling "blanket," for which she almost began to solicit her "heater."
Lin opened his eyes and immediately squinted, wincing: the flashlight's light, though not that bright, hit the one who had regained consciousness after a blackout right in the face. He glanced around, but all around, within arm's reach, was only haphazardly compressed snow. Then the guy concentrated on his sensations, which his body was insistently trying to convey to him, and felt a weight on his chest and something hard pressing into his stomach. Raising his head, Lin saw only an ash-colored pigtail sticking out of a bulge on his chest, formed by his own cloak. The guy didn't complain about his memory, like any good Mage, and therefore quickly identified the girl huddling in his soaked clothes. However, the questions of where he was and how he got here remained hanging in the air. But he had an excellent source of the necessary information; all that remained was the small matter of waking him... or rather, her.
At first, Lin, realizing that there wasn't much room to maneuver in the ice cave, started small—he simply poked the warming girl at random with a finger. But he was consistently unlucky, and he kept hitting something metallic or just hard. Then, realizing that he himself had actually started to freeze, he cast warming charms on them both and didn't forget to dry the clothes, and then, without thinking long, he tugged the Gnome by her pigtail—as far as Lin remembered, girls were always sensitive about their hair.
It's nice when your expectations are met; it's doubly nice when you don't have to make excuses afterward...
"Ow!"
The hunched and huddled bump against him straightened out, turning into a Gnome girl, which allowed Lin to see firsthand the skills of an experienced engineer in packing/unpacking the unpackable. The ruby hunter sneezed, yawned, doing so almost simultaneously, and the rumpled little face finally stared at the revived Mage. The staring contest took only a few seconds, after which the girl gave a disarming smile and introduced herself:
"Hi! My name is Trixie!"
"Lin. Now get off me, Trixie," the guy was in no mood at all, despite the fact that until recently he had literally craved to talk to some well-versed engineer. "Otherwise, you'll have to meet my girlfriend, and I don't think you'll like it."
"Even your grandmother, if she can find us and get us out of here!" the Gnome turned out to be sharp-tongued. "And anyway—which of us is the guy? Take some responsibility!" and besides everything else, she was quite the joker...
Attempts to rid the "shy" guy of her company in the tiny ice cave led to an even more suggestive pose, as the girl, having mounted him, settled right on his groin and was now turning around, looking for where she could go from the confined space. Naturally, no place for retreat was found.
"Okay, I get it! Stop fluttering around," the guy's head even spun from the impulsive movements of the Gnome's hands, as she switched to gesturing.
Trixie, freezing at his words, began to feel herself and her dry clothes with a look of surprise, not understanding the source of the warmth enveloping her.
"So what happened? Where are we and how did we end up here?" Lin inquired once the girl finally stopped fidgeting against the man's most sensitive area, but immediately clarified to avoid unproductive speech: "In a nutshell."
"We're in deep trouble," the girl sighed sadly, fitting within the agreed limit, and then, with total spontaneity, couldn't help but ask about her warmed body: "Magic, right?"
"Yeah, that's the one... Care to elaborate?"
"I had a wormhole generator with me, and when we bumped into each other and fell off the stairs, it got a little banged up and triggered," she spread her arms as much as circumstances allowed, as if to say 'it happens to the best of us,' and continued, "Because of that, we teleported in an unknown direction. I don't know where we are, but there's snow everywhere—looks like we're in some mountains."
The snow didn't interest the listener in the least, but something else certainly did.
"A portable teleport that doesn't use magic... It doesn't use it, does it?" Lin clarified just in case, and upon receiving a nod, drew out thoughtfully: "Interesting..."
In the face of the coming war, the Mage immediately appreciated this aspect of the latest novelty from the Gnome engineers—at least, he had never heard of or suspected anything of the sort until now. Who better than him to know that the ability to teleport under conditions of fierce enemy counteraction to spatial movement is a priceless and indisputable advantage. And if one were to develop the idea and use this generator to transport some dangerous artifact directly to the enemy, right through their Magic Defense, then...
"Hey, Mage!" Someone snapped their fingers several times in front of Lin's face. "What are you muttering about? We need to get out of here!"
"Hmm," his eyes focused on the frowning little face adorned with a few freckles, and a question escaped him of its own accord: "Why?"
A brief stupor was quickly replaced by a torrent of words.
"What do you mean 'why'?! Are you planning to live here?! You're not... Ah! No, don't get me wrong—you might be young, but you're a good-looking guy and a Mage to boot, and I'm a cute young Gnome and an experienced apprentice engineer—practically a master. Fate itself brought us together, so we have every chance of becoming a couple! Only, didn't you say something about a girl? That was a joke, right? Truly?" At the end of the "made it up herself, believed it herself" monologue, there was so much genuine hope that Lin was momentarily at a loss; he was further bewildered when Trixie, pulling herself up to his chest, suddenly tried to kiss him.
"Apparently, personal life is in a real state for promising engineers," the Mage decided to himself, holding her by the shoulders and thereby stopping her from the extraordinary act.
"Actually, I meant that by the feel of it, there's a blizzard and it's night outside," he set the record straight. "And I trust my senses; I consider leaving what passes for a shelter right now to be simply pointless."
"That's what I'm saying! I suggest passing the time with something pleasant, handsome," the Gnome suddenly gave a playful wink and tried to overcome the strength of his hands to carry out her original plan for a kiss, and it couldn't be said that she was entirely unsuccessful—apparently, physical labor occurred much more often for an engineer girl than for a Mage boy.
His mouth, already open to hurl a sharp rebuke, didn't have time to speak before Lin suspected something was wrong—his new acquaintance's face was far too red, and her hazel eyes had a very strange expression. Lin didn't consider himself so irresistible that the first girl he met, and a member of another race at that, would pounce on him with such intent after a couple of minutes of conversation. The first assumption he made in haste seemed perfectly logical, and the Mage blamed the situation on his first and only spell cast after regaining consciousness... well, almost the only one.
"Maybe I should rename it 'Warm and Arouse'? I wouldn't be surprised if such an effect from an Elf spell only occurs when used on residents of Gnomeregan. I never would have thought that essentially household charms, proven by millennia of practice, could manifest hidden capabilities."
The gazes of the boy and girl, caught in a compromising position, met once more, and then the Gnome went limp. Lin, still holding her by the shoulders, carefully lowered her onto his chest, effectively returning her to the spot where it all began. Putting one girl to sleep was a simple but necessary task.
"Jaina is definitely going to clobber me if she finds out..."
***
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