Chapter 5

Too Many Questions

Stefan turned the Nerubian artifact around in his hands, running his fingertips along the intricate glyphs and runes that littered its facets. The cold, ice-blue thing stared back blankly. He wanted to know why. Why an Undead Mage in the Plaguelands had ties to it, why the message he carried was so important that  Vineus had to die. And even in death, the Gnome had given them another bread crumb, one that left him in a darker pit of ignorance that was far deeper than the tip-off about the Undead.

It was obvious that someone was shadowing their little exploit, possibly motivated by the same goal. It was also clear that another, more mysterious party, was trying to slow their progress. And they used brutal tactics. Stefan remembered the blank, calm look in the dead Gnome's eyes. The desperate hope that his message would make it to Stefan and Iyana was humbly concealed just beneath the surface of Vineus's blue eyes. He had seen the faint traces of that fading hope, and covered the poor Gnome's shame.

Now, the conquest for knowledge--perhaps even wealth--had been joined by a thirst for revenge. It was the search for Rok'Roham all over again. But Stefan didn't want to re-live the pain, experience the cries of anguish that echoed in his heart. He had lost something on the steps of the Dark Portal. He couldn't chance losing more. Not if he could help it.

"We're here," said Iyana. Her voice melted his silent contemplation away into the air. He looked around, finding himself back in the Deeprun Tram. Iyana sat next to him, smiling brightly as the tram slowed, then ground to a halt.

Not her. That would drop him off the edge, into the oblivion the wisest of men pathetically tried to describe as madness. But he vowed to never allow madness a sanctuary within his person. He would sooner take his own life then to succumb to such a pathetic, witless state. That he was sure of. No man or woman could sway him.

"Where to?" asked Iyana. At first Stefan was confused, because he hadn't remembered the walk from the tram to Tinker Town. Yet here they were, standing amidst a bustling surge of Gnomes. He had been too far gone in his own world of troubles to see how the real world had progressed around him. He shook the feelings away, replacing it with renewed purpose.

He turned right, heading toward a passage that led elsewhere in the giant city of Ironforge. "The Explorer's League. We'll find the journey to be much quieter if we head this way."

"After you," replied Iyana, squeezing past a stubby, pony-tailed loudmouth of a Dwarf.

---

Mae Paledust sighed deeply, closing the book and earning a muffled clapfrom its aged pages. She returned it to its place in the myriad rows of shelves that lined the walls, pushing a strand of her silvery hair out of her eyes. She shuddered with excitement as she had over her many years in the Explorer's League. She was surrounded by infinit knowledge, perhaps with answers to all the questions in the world; the only difficulty was finding those answers. She hadn't found them all yet, nor was she ready to give up.

She was about to pick up another book when she saw the Human and Night Elf approaching. Mae set the book down, strolling over to the pair with a pleasant grin on her face.

"Welcome to the Explorer's League of Ironforge. I'm Mae Paledust," she greeted, holding out a hand to shake.

"A pleasure. I'm Stefan Dreis," replied the Human, meeting her hand with his own.

"And I am Iyana Moonbreeze," seconded the Night Elf. She seemed surprised for a moment as they shook hands. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that your palms are rather...rough."

The old Dwarven woman smiled. "Aye. I come from the working class. Ironic that I now spend most of my days sitting on me rump with a book up my nose. How can I help you two?"

"Madame Paledust, do you know one Vineus Bobblegrind?" inquired Stefan.

"Sure do! That old devil of a Gnome! What's he up to nowadays?" she asked cheerfully. Stefan and Iyana looked sideways at each other. Mae noticed the strange look as well. "Oh no! Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"Miss Paledust..." started Iyana.

"Mae, please!"

"Alright. Mae...Vineus is dead. Murdered."

She didn't answer at first. But after a large lump dropped in her throat, Mae spoke up. "Terrible news. I...I didn't know the scholar very well, I merely followed his work. A truly intelligent being. You say he was murdered? By who?"

"We do not know. But we think it was in connection with a certain line of research he had undergone...One we had commissioned," said Stefan. He lowered his voice to a whisper for the next part. "Before he passed on, he wrote your name on the floor, along with 'Kha'Tzeen'Azyr'. He was clutching this in his right hand."

Stefan passed on the crumpled page to Mae, who stretched it out and scanned the lines of text. After a moment she looked up again. Intuition flared in her eyes.

"What was that word? 'Kha'Tzeen'Azyr'?"

"Yes," replied Stefan, interested.

Before he could ask more, Mae had turned and began to climb a ladder up the rows of books that rose to the ceiling. Iyana and Stefan watched intently as she expertly pulled herself along the shelves, stopping every so often to inspect a particular book. It was when she had nearly run out of shelf on the right side of the column of books and scripts that Mae stopped, smiled, and pulled free a blank, purple-cover text.

"The name sounded familiar," she started, sliding down the ladder while flipping through the pages at the same time, "But I had to be sure."

She searched for a moment more, stopping to scan a page. Stefan and Iyana waited in tense silence, wondering what it was the Dwarven scholar was ranting about. As if in answer, she clapped the book closed, holding it under her arm and turning to look at them. She had an expression of worry and excitement on her face.

"As I had suspected. In the old Nerubian tongue, Kha'Tzeen'Azyr means 'Ice Crown of the Shifting Times', or more commonly, 'Fortune's Frozen Eye'. Whatever you are involved in, it's related to one of the most legendary myths of Azeroth!"

Iyana and Stefan stared on blankly. Mae sagged her shoulders in defeat. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

They shook their heads in unison. In response, Mae nodded expectingly.

"Follow..."

---

The Aqir, arguably the first colony of intelligent, insectoid beings, split apart soon after a persistent war with the Trolls. Fully half of the empire headed south, forming the colony of Ahn'Qiraj. The other half turned to the north, becoming what is known as Azjol'Nerub. Much is known of Ahn'Qiraj's fate. In recent years, Horde and Alliance efforts have thwarted the sudden rise of activity in Silithus, and the old god C'thun has been defeated. Slowly, the colony is falling apart.

But little is known about Azjol'Nerub. A contingent of Dwarves guard the Old Kingdom's gates, and the Lich King's Undead Scourge control what is left of the Upper Kingdoms, which fell during the conflict known only as the War of the Spider. The Nerubian insectoids retreated below the surface, disappearing into their ancient tunnels and caverns that they call home. But now, we are seeing more and more activity from the old beings; guerilla strikes against the Scourge threat are popping up in reports from Northrend all over. It seems the ancient people have risen to power once again, and we are unsure of who leads them and what has driven them into action.

But it is not the sudden rise of activity that is so interesting. After their arrival in what is now Northrend, the Nerubians rose to great power. They forged a dominant empire, and likewise created iconic artifacts to immortalize their name. One such artifact, Kha'Tzeen'Azyr, stands out amongst them all.

Legends and myths change with every passing story-teller. Some say it is a richly-embellished crown of pure gold, adorned with a multitude of colorful stones. Others say it is a simple ring of metal that rests on one's brow. Still others believe it to be a single, giant jewel set into a large metal coin that is placed on the wearer's third eye, the forehead. But no matter its changing appearance, its power remains static; the crown can foresee events to come, perhaps even warp them. Not only does it grant all-seeing vision, but it also bestows upon its beholder an indominatable will. It is said that many went in search of the ancient artifact, and few reached the crown unhindered. But the safeguard was inherent to the crown itself; any who would don the powerful headpiece could not voice the visions they saw, else they suffer death. Its purpose to the Nerubians is unclear, considering its use has never been documented. Perhaps the ancient humanoids saw it as a last resort, and intend to keep its powers hidden from the rest of the world.

Knowledge is power, and the Nerubians respected that. Whether or not they made a relic in the name of such a power remains to be seen.

---

"Thus goes the most accurately recorded history of Fortune's Frozen Eye," finished Mae. "By popular vote, of course."

"Is it possible for such a powerful thing to exist?" asked Iyana.

"So long as the wretched Lich King breathes the very air we do, such things are fully plausible," said Mae.

"And if we wanted to prove it did, how would we go about doing it?" questioned Stefan.

"Well, I'd tell you to take a hike, literally. Northrend is a long journey," answered Mae.

"One I fully intend to make."

"Stefan, what makes you so sure such a thing exists? It's a wonderful read and healthy for the imagination, but we haven't any proof!"

He reached into a pouch at his waist, and pulled out the ice-blue relic. Mae's eyes widened and radiated brightly as she looked upon it.

"We're not sure, but we think this might be proof enough," started Stefan.

"Fully plausible," sputtered Mae. "A Nerubian artifact! I've no idea what it does, but clearly it's out of place. Maybe...maybe we should go put it back! Yes, give it back to its owners! Can't be taking from our allies, now can we?"

"Since when were the Nerubians our alli--"

"When do we leave?"