Rossz előjelekből akadt így is épp elég – morfondírozott félálomban. Igaza volt az édesanyjának. Esett már hasonló kelepcébe ő is, igazán hihetett volna neki.

Egy lehetetlen betegség, egy megfékezhetetlen járvány. Persze nem az ő dolguk volt, hogy a természetes szelekcióba beleszóljanak, hiszen a törvény az törvény. Még ha az életé is, és sehol sem írták meg. Írásra különben is csak az apró népeknek van szükségük! Egy szóval figyelmen kívül hagyták a dolgot. Nem akartak belefolyni egy újabb háborúba. Még akkor sem, amikor Arthas herceg megölte az apját, II. Therenas-t. Még akkor sem, amikor a köpönyegforgató bedöntötte Silvermoon kapuit, hogy a Sunwell vizét jéghidegre változtassa. Amikor Dalaran elbukott és megidézték Azerothra az eredart, már többen nyugtalankodni kezdtek a fajtájából. De még a végső ütközetre sem érkeztek meg.

De persze utólag bármely bolond rá tud mutatni a történelem nagy hibáira. A kulcsszó a reakció – amire nem volt idejük, mert eszük ágában sem volt rászánni.

Talán túl fiatal volt még, gyermek, naiv és idealista. Talán ez vitte arra, hogy mindig a maga feje után menjen, és ne hallgasson a nála öregebbekre, a korok alatt felhalmozódott bölcsességre. Ők legalábbis így gondolták, és hiába bizonygatta az igazát, hiába toporzékolt, nem vették komolyan. Ha tudják, mit csinál valójában, lehet még eretneknek is bélyegezték volna. Egy azonban biztos – lehetett akármilyen tapasztalatlan, álmodozó poronty, egy dolgot nem szenvedhetett. A tétlenséget.

***

Álmában sokkal jobban kijött a fajtársaival, mint az útitársaival. Persze a pesszimista énje folyton ott duruzsolt a fülébe: “csak nem volt időnk kiismerni egymást.” Akármennyire is fiatalnak és hirtelennek számított az övéi körében, képtelen volt egy ember, vagy akár egy elf léptékével nézni a világot. Napok, évek, évtizedek? Mindezek érthetőek (hiszen utánanézett e fogalmaknak, amíg felkészült), ám teljesen semmitmondóak voltak a számára.

Mindenesetre felettébb érdekesnek tartotta a legtöbbjüket. Egy elf, akinek az otthon nem az a hely, ahol álomra hajtja a fejét. Egy morózus lovag és egy régi ismerős, akik hamvaikból támadtak fel egy utolsó küldetés erejéig. Egy varázslónő, aki túlélte a mágushajsza borzalmait, és mégis inkább mentené, ami menthető. Zsoldosok, futárok, felderítők, kereskedők – észveszejtő kavalkád, és senki sem ismerte a másikat,

THE DEAD MAN

Thin, milky light from a crescent moon. Tumbling snowflakes in the midnight air. A musing woman sitting on a sculpted windowsill, glaring through the rimy glass. Icicles hanging from the eaves trough. Deep shades were frozen on her face, she sat motionless. There was a fire behind her in the library hall. They were burning books, for there was scarcely anything flammable in the ruin. She was glaring at those dead topiaries, overgrown and monstrous in the abandoned garden sprawled around the castle. It’d been two days since they had chosen the place for shelter. Two days with hardly anything to eat and melted snow to drink.

It was going to be a cruel, long winter, she thought.

She kept staring out at the garden paths buried in the snow; the shattered skeletons of greenhouses, the fallen turrets and battlements. She imagined a ghost out there; a ghost of a friend of her father.

“He haunts. How... appropriate”

“What?!”

She spoke out so abruptly, she scared the young man sitting by the camp fire. He drew his sword, stepped up to her infuriated and checked her wrists. The shackles he’d bound her were gone without a trace. He swore in a low voice, kept the woman at sword’s point all the while. The infamous Grinning Ginny - she was a dangerous woman.

“How can you free yourself all the time?!” he demanded.

“..........” she grinned.

“..........”

“You’d like to know, huh lad?”

“Do you have to keep unbinding yourself and lurking around? It’s not like you can escape from me. Not until the snowstorm is over... You heard what the big guy said” he pointed with a thumb over his shoulder at the massive shadow curled up around the fire. Neither of them seemed to be taken aback by the presence of the legendary monster. “He won’t hazard flying in the storm again.”

“Yeah, I heard what Mr. Dragon said.”

“Then why? You have no chance...”

“Dunno. Because it pisses you off?”

“Aargh” he pulled out another set of heavy shackles from somewhere and began clasping them on his bounty’s wrists. She didn’t resist, she even held her arms up for him with full confidence and a mocking smile on her face.

“Believe what you will. Suffice to say I’m not eager to play bondage with anyone who claims to be a bounty hunter. I have outsmarted men far more skilled and crafty than you are, you wannabe. If it wasn’t for our companions, you’d be deader than the dead thing.”

“That’s just an empty threat.”

She shrugged. “Wanna bet your life on that, lad?”

“Do you have to keep calling me that? You’re not that older than me. Lass”

“I’m no lass, I’m half elven. I could be your grandmother.”

“Should I call you granny then?”

She frowned. “No. I still have feminine dignity, you ass.”

“So how do you do what you do?” he cut in to change the course of speech, but to no avail. “That escaping thing of yours” he elaborated. Still no answer only hurt silence on Grinning Ginny’s behalf. “Will I have to bind your ankles too? Or undress you completely so that you won’t be able to hide any of your thieves’ tools on you?”

“Still, I’d have certain hiding holes left to... use.” The young man never knew the word ‘use’ can come so dirty from a woman’s mouth. “Would you search them too, you indomitable mangod of a bounty hunter...?” she asked with her voice flirtatiously deep and low and she drew herself alluringly close to the young man. His face turned dark red, his neck stiffened. He hated when she turned succubus on him – he couldn’t sleep lying on his stomach the whole night after each of these scenarios.

“..........”

She laughed a dreary laugh, and left the young man to boil in a rush of teenage sexuality. She sat back onto the windowsill somewhat gracefully, like a lady of the court, her chained hands in her lap. Her act was somewhat ruined by the fact that in the Kingdom of Alterac there was no royal court anymore: the country was in a state of sanctioned corruption and anarchy, and the seat of the king was occupied by the ogre warlord, Than’Gorodrim. Dark thoughts crossed the young man’s mind as he watched his prisoner.

Common red, tousled hair, sooty fair skin and a few unsymmetrical freckles speckling her nose.

Grinning Ginny, he mouthed the name inaudibly.

The one and only, the biggest game out there to catch with an insane one thousand gold piece bounty on her head, offered by his majesty, the Crown Prince Aidan Perenolde. Aidan was the loathed heir to the throne of Alterac, backed up by the all-powerful crime organization, the Syndicate.

She was a special kind of outlaw, a nonconformist – a waylay, a ruffian, an idol of the rebellious Alterac Boyz and the poor people of Alterac. Someone who claimed stealing from the rich, giving it to the poor and she was hated for it by the high society. The young bounty hunter would’ve believed in her if he was an idealist, not a survivor. He could discern ‘grey’ from a darker shade of grey though. The distinction was clear between the greedy and chaotic acts of this famed rogue, and the unforgivable crimes against humanity committed by

the Syndicate. Still, however. That one thousand gold pieces... Call me a lowly human being, but that’s something you’d sell a girl for. Especially a shady little cutthroat like her. Even so, considering her uncanny abilities, she’d escape them too.

He reclaimed his place by the fire, by the clawed paw of the slumbering red dragon, Faustrasz and began poking the blazing tomes again. He soon became bored with it, pushed his back against Faust’s body. It radiated warmth.

“So what was it you were saying?” he asked nonchalantly.

“What what?” she asked back, coolly unconcerned, even more so than he pretended to be. Her laid-back attitude was a pain in the ass. He’d already decided that after their first rushed conversation back in the ogre camp. That wasn’t an easy skirmish; it was sheer luck he lived to tell. But all the while he managed to take her prisoner. So, she shouldn’t be acting like the boss.

“That thing. About some haunting.”

“Aaww, that.”

“Well?”

“Well, you’d know what I meant if you were reading books instead of burning them.”

“Well, pardon me” he interrupted clearly angered, imitating Ginny’s style in a singsong voice. “My bad I want to keep your pretty behind from freezing over.”

“So you think my behind’s pretty?”

“I mean ~ I...”

“I’ve always thought my behind was rather fat...”

“It’s a trap...” the boy buried his face in his palm.

“... but it’s still tiny compared to Mr. Dragon’s bottom I guess...”

“... you’re impossible.”

“You really think so, do you?” She clasped her hands in girlish delight. “You shouldn’t bombard a lady with endless flattering.”

“Argh” he groaned. “What kind of girl calls herself ‘a lady’ anyway?!”

“A princess, la-lala-lala” she giggled. He grumbled. “By the way, this library seems well equipped. There should be a copy of that all-famous book somewhere here...”

She moved suddenly. It was unexpected, flowing, and unearthly as if the shadows were reluctant to let her go. The young bounty hunter felt intimidated by the slightly sorcerous presence she emitted. She caught his glare, looked smug. His fright quickly turned into irritation. He crossed his arms and mumbled.

She moved with a dancer’s finesse and fake girlish glee, skimmed through the thousands of damaged books left on the shelves as if darkness was nothing.

“That’s an elf for you, alright” he growled to himself.

The library was great. It was the only place in the entire castle Faust could fit in bearing his true form without ruining anything in particular. He expressed this wish right as they landed on the balcony two days ago. He was very refined considering his being a dragon. His attitude didn’t change a bit for the fact that the whole building was a ruin; it bore the remnants of some earlier catastrophe. It was the same with this hall – the walls, the multilevel bookcases were dirty of smoke-stain, and adorned by great and leaping dog-tongues of black soot. The mosaic floor showed signs of ritual markings, like many other rooms in the castle. The others agreed that whatever their purpose was, the magic circles were used to concentrate energy underground, for a supposedly botched ceremony. It wasn’t easy to swallow that even a scoundrel like this Grinning Ginny character knew more about taumathurgy than he did. He had difficulties resisting bitching about it.

He was called Sour Edward Tollet for a good reason after all.

“..........”

“..........”

“..........” time passed by, but then:

“There you go!”

Out of the blue, she threw a book at him.

He barely caught it.

“Heeeey!! You shouldn’t throw heavy stuff at people like this! It could be dangerous!”

“I aimed for your head so that you won’t get any lamer than you already are.”

“..........”

She approached the fire, crouched down at the edge of lightness and dark. Ed was glad he heard the reassuring clink of heavy metal as she placed her elbows on her knees. He hoped she hadn’t found anything to kill him with.

“I took the trouble of looking it up for you, and you can’t even manage to utter a ‘thank you very much’?! Uncourteous men like you should just roll over and die.”

He felt defeated.

“Okay-okay, I’m very sorry! And thanks a lot, yeah, just stop picking on me!”

“I can’t. That’s the purpose of my life.”

“Since when?!”

“I’ve just dedicated myself to it.”

“Argh. That’s a woman for you...” he glanced at the book cover. It said:

THE THOUSAND CURIOUS ADVENTURES OF GENTLEMAN DURIN QUATERMAIN

TOLD BY: SIR H. RIDER HAGGARD

HIS TRUSTED COMPANION AND CHRONICLER

“What’s this, a kindergarten book?” he asked.

“It’s an adventure novel, you silly little boy. It used to be very popular when I was a girl” her thoughts drifted off to memories. “Dad sometimes read it for me and my younger brother. In his last days, he had a lot of time to spare.”

“Aaww, sho shweet” Sour Ed said in baby talk.

“Maybe I should do the same for you.”

“Do what?!”

“Well, read that thing for you of course! You can put your head on my lap too, it’s warm and cozy there.”

“Just how young do you think I am?!”

“Dunno. Five, maybe? It’s hard to tell with you humans.”

“Your destruction shall be utter and your damnation long, she-demon.”

“So be it, toddler” she said clearly offended by something he said. Women!!!

Sour Ed grinded his teeth as he watched the rogue push herself standing and fade into the darkness behind her. He didn’t even care where she went, what magic she used or if she freed herself again from the shackles. It’s not like he could find her if she didn’t want to be found. And it’s not like there was anywhere she could go, or anyone she could reach out for help. It was the three of them against the world. It feels kind of... reassuring. Like this, at least you know where your enemies stand.

“..........”

Everywhere.

He thought about himself, about his companions. Past and present ones, living and dead too. He thought long, he thought some unnecessary things. Then, he thought some infuriating things. All the while, he stared into the fire, then at the book on his lap respectively.

For one, there was a flame-blooded, man-eating monster – Faustrasz. The dragon somehow jumped straight out of myths and folklore into his life. Sometimes his father told him about the Second War, about Grim Batol, where the Horde made the Red Dragonflight fight the Alliance, to bring fiery destruction to Azeroth.

Then a spirited girl; easy to fall for, but not worthy of dying for. Not now, not for him. She was supposed to be a folk hero, hope with capital letters. Reality proved to be somewhat disappointing, as always. As a boy he used to dream about joining the Alterac Boyz to help change the wretched kingdom of Alterac. Then he grew up. Or at least aged a few years.

Well yes, there was him too, to add his share to this unlikely company. A no-good soldier of fortune, betrayed by his leader, Garrone and now driven by some insane sense of justice and purpose. It was like when he tried to walk in his father’s boots as a child. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was the odd one out. That he was only fumbling about.

He sighed, stroked the ornate leather book cover with numbed hands. He couldn’t figure out why that woman pushed the novel into his face, he couldn’t guess the connection if there was any to be found. But maybe… the memory of a dwarf, lean, wiry and unattractive by dwarven standards came to his mind’s eye. In fact Thousand looked like an old human about 5 feet tall; serious and sympathetic and heroic in retrospect too. He sacrificed his life to help them escape from the ogre encampment on the back of Faust. It was kind of epic and sad too; he knew he, Ed should’ve died in his place. For a time after the flight he blamed himself for Thousand’s death – he thought that somehow if he, the unskilled and unworthy one had died back then, the dwarf would have been able to get out of it alive. He could’ve been of real use to the cause; there was something about him nobody else had in the entire company except for that towering elf, that Crisis.

Sure, Thousand was an enigma, not the typical dwarf you’d expect stumbling into, well, anywhere in the whole wide world. But... Hell if I know. He opened the book, turned the first few pages. It was printed, which was good, because he was no master of his letters. Yet. It read as follows:

Lady Ginevre Perenolde, Crow Princess and Heiress to the throne, also known as Grinning Ginny, the rogue

Kesergő Ed (Edward) Tollet

Faustrasz

Durin “Thousand” Quatermain –

the twilight world of occultist’s

cloak-and-dagger external affairs (Luthio von Lowencourt)

your bickering woke me up

if you don’t like elves, why do you keep changing into one?

i find this form... aesthetically... pleasing.

"Enough with the serious discussion. Let's keep talking about underwear"

Heca Thompson - Hecatomb

sourie – mosolygó franciául (don’t call me that!!)

adventure – when we stop we start to fall apart

one shot, one kill – rarely killed (Ezer)

hogy a hitem és az érdeklődési köröm két külön dolog

pisál, ha jön a szembeszél

nekem rideg ősz az üde tavasz

Alterac: “ez nem egy ország, hanem idegállapot”