Jica pulled her cloak higher up around her shoulders and tucked her head down deeper. The biting winds of Northrend were already a stark contrast from Azuremyst Isle, but the frozen, glacial air of Icecrown was something different altogether. It seemed fitting for the land of the dead; endless, empty plains of windswept snow and ice, the landscape dotted with imposing black metal structures that looked like they had never seen the light of a simple fire in all their existence. Her lone comfort was her direwolf, Mouse, a hulking grey beast that had become her closest friend. She knelt down and held her close, hoping to share in some of her warmth in the attempt to find the way back to the forward base camp of the Argent Crusade.

She had already been out for hours. Even for a hunter, it was difficult to travel in Icecrown. Winds would obscure footsteps and the snow and cold deadened most of the smells and trails used for tracking. She was running on instinct, and an instinct that was using fewer and fewer clues as the night was beginning to threaten to overtake the day. Her greatest hope was a hill just a short distance from her. Hopefully from that vantage point, she could find a direction towards the base camp, towards warmth, towards home. Mouse went dutifully up first, reaching the top and looking over the edge. The wolf crouched low and slowly retreated, a sure sign of warning.

Jica followed suit, crouching and carefully moving towards the crest of the hill. She had already defeated many scourge today, and the prospects of fighting more with fingers so cold she could hardly draw back the string of her bow seemed especially daunting. Nevertheless, she had to know where her enemies were so as to not get ambushed on the road. Carefully, she leaned forward and looked over the edge.

A small party of skeletons and other shambling, undead monstrosities were repairing a broken down meat wagon. Had it been the morning and the start of her hunt, she would have riddled them all with arrows before they even knew she was here, but after a long day of hunting, it seemed hardly the time. However, something caught her eye and forced her to stay for a moment longer. Hiding behind a bubbling cauldron of green ichor, she thought for a moment she saw someone. But not a wretched undead; she thought she saw a gnome.

Leaning closer, she tried to get a better look. Jica took one step forward, planting her draenic hoof on the very apex of the hill. However, it wasn’t a rock or snowdrift she stepped in, but rather a thin layer of ice. She overbalanced, tumbling down the hill and landing right in the midst of the undead. Mouse, much more surefooted, lept from the hill in support and howled its challenge while she got her bearings. Where had her bow even landed?

The skeletons had begun to recognize the prey in their midst and converged on her as she scrambled. Desperately, Mouse charged and hacked at her attackers, but time was running short. She had mere moments to find her weapon and defend herself against the coming onslaught.

She slid behind a discarded wheel of the meat wagon to catch her breath and regain her composure. Unbeknownst to her, that’s right where a demon was already waiting. A strange, ever-shifting void, shackled in her existence by two bracers on what one would have to call its arms. It began to walk - shifted, rather - towards her. There was little she could do; Mouse was already fighting beyond her sight and her bow was nowhere to be seen. She braced for whatever the demon’s assault would be.

And yet it moved just past her.

Confused, she watched its path. The voidwalker instead was moving towards an undead that was coming towards her from behind. Releasing void energy from its body, it managed to get the attention of the monster that seemed to suddenly forget Jica’s very existence. Lucky once, she stumbled upon further good fortune as she spotted her bow just where the voidwalker moved past. Jica sprinted towards it, taking it up in her hands and immediately firing arrow after arrow into the undead that was attacking her strange, blue saviour.

“Memzon!” she heard a voice call out. “Where are you? There are enemies about! Have you forgotten your master’s voice? Where is that big dumb blueberry? No matter! I’m more than enough without you, demon!”

Nocking an arrow, she stepped around the wheel to see Mouse tossing around a skeleton like a freshly caught meal. Just beyond, she saw the gnome that had caught her attention in the first place. Great bolts of shadow energy ripped from his hands, slamming into undead creatures and sending them spiralling away. With a flick of his wrist, flames engulfed another as a black-robed cultist writhed in agony and retreated to safer ground.

“Bask in my magnificence!” the gnome yelled, his voice squeaky and high. “I am a master of demons, commander of shadows! You, just a mere band of bones and flesh!”

Jica looked to the voidwalker, knowing it must have been under the gnome’s command. Did she just hear a demon sigh?

“Feel the power of shadow and flame!” he called further. “May the… hmm.” The gnome paused, putting his hands on his hips. “I think we got ‘em all. Memzon! Where have you gone?”

Jica put the arrow back in her quiver. Her companion came dutifully at her side again, rubbing its head up against her leg like a kitten would its mother. She raised a hand in greeting towards the gnome that very well may have saved her life. “Thank you,” she said. “I saw you from above, and I slipped-”

“I am Balfamelek!” the gnome yelled, his hands outstretched and firing small jets of flame from the ends of his fingers. “Gnomeregan’s finest son! Slaughterer of the undead, commander of demonic forces!” With a flourish, he bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She desperately resisted the urge, but couldn’t help chuckling. She knew the inhabitants of Azeroth would bow to those they showed respect to as a way of showing they’re not above them. But for one of his height to bow…

His voidwalker turned, reading Jica’s expression even if Balfamelek didn’t. In an otherworldly voice, it stated, “She believes you are short.”

“Nonsense!” Balfamelek declared. “Short in stature, perhaps, but high in standing!

“Of course,” she agreed. “My name is Jica. I’ve been hunting the scourge, but… it seems I’ve lost my way. Would you know the fastest way to the base?”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“It just so happens that I do! Allow me to escort you. Stay close - it’s dangerous here. Fortunately, you have the greatest warlock this world has seen at your disposal!” He began to walk further east. “Come, come!”

On the way back to the base, Balfamelek - Balf, he said she could call him - kept looking back to Jica, ensuring she was close by and safe. In fact, he looked back probably more often than he needed to. “Are you alright? Are you hungry? I have some conjured bread from those… mages…” he said, saying the word with clear disdain. “They’d be useless if it wasn’t for their food. However, I will admit they do make good strudels!”

“I’m quite alright,” she said with a smile. She pulled her cloak up tighter again. “Perhaps just a little cold.”

He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got just the thing for that! A far better conjuring than those filthy mages can ever produce.” His hands waved in front of him, faint green lights swirling around his fingers. Suddenly, from nothing, a small stone pulsing with energy lay in his palm. “A healthstone! It should keep you nice and warm. Mages have their food, but I’ve got the best cookies.”

“Cookies,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be happy to take one.” She reached to take it from his palm, but at the last moment she saw a shadow descending from above. A skeletal form of a great bird was diving towards them, sharp, diseased claws making it clear its intentions to tear the gnome to pieces. Thinking quickly, she went for an arrow instead of the gnome’s offer, and in one fluid motion let it fly from her bow right through the maw of the beast. It twisted and shrieked, falling in a heap and sliding through the snow, right to Balf’s feet.

“Blasted voidwalker!” he yelled. “How did you not see it coming towards me! What purpose is there in summoning you if not for protection!” Suddenly realizing his outburst was making him look quite the fool, he looked sheepishly back to Jica. “But thank you. I suppose that makes us even.” The danger having passed, he gave her the stone.

--

It wasn’t long before they found a path leading back to the camp. It would be a while yet, but they were on the right track, and the two found they were quite enjoying each other's company. Balf would tell bombastic stories of heroism and courage, almost surely exaggerated, and Jica would tell him of life on the Exodar. According to Jica, it wasn’t the first time she’d gotten into trouble by slipping off a cliff’s edge, and Balf smiled knowing his little legs and long robe had made him trip in similar circumstances more than he’d care to admit.

“I’ve slid off a fair few perches myself, you know,” he said. “Landed right in the waiting arms of a whole band of orcs! But don’t you worry - I taught them a thing or two about the great Balfamelek! They were running home sooner than they could yell their silly little battle cries.”

“Really?” Jica asked, eyes wide. “A whole band of them?”

“A whole one of them,” his voidwalker added in. The voice sounded even stranger considering it was making a joke. “You fell from a hill. Your knee hit the orc’s skull. You knocked it out cold.”

Jica nearly burst out laughing, but held it together to spare Balf’s feelings. “You know, you remind me of one of your kind I’ve heard a lot about. A powerful spellcaster! I believe his name is Millhouse-”

“-Manastorm,” Balfamelek finished. “He wishes he had the talents I have! Here,” he said. “I’ll prove it to you!” Quite a distance away another group of undead were working around a hastily created blacksmithing station. A hulking abomination presided over the workers, a number of skeletons hammering away at iron tools and weapons. Obsessed with their work, they hadn’t noticed the pair. “I bet you I can clear that whole camp without a scratch. You just watch! Don’t even so much as lift a finger!”

“Oh, you don’t have to prove anything to me. Really. I believe you! I saw the way you handled those monsters back there.”

“I must show I’m more than just talk!” he said, holding up his hand and allowing it to briefly become engulfed in flame. With tremendous confidence, he strode right up to the undead camp. “Memzon! Come! We’re going to need you to take some of the hits!”

The “shoulders” of the voidwalker seemed to lower in disappointment. “I don’t like this place,” it said in its echoing, demonic voice.

Holding no pretense of subtlety, Balf walked right within sight of the undead. “Greetings!” he called out as he announced himself to the monsters by sending a blast of shadow energy at the first skeleton, blasting away its ribcage and sending it reeling. “And hello!” he added, causing a great burst of flame to overwhelm another. “Today, you’ve met your end, vile fiends!”

The abomination yelled out before lumbering towards him, rallying a number of other skeletons close at hand to his side - ones they had not seen from a distance. Suddenly, he was gravely outnumbered.

Gnomish hands flying this way and that, spells burst forth with tremendous energy. However, it was clearly beginning to tax the spellcaster, and sweat was beading on his forehead in spite of the brutal cold of Icecrown. “I… bring… chaos!” he said between heavy breaths. “I… am… unstoppable!”

In spite of his powers of destruction, one skeleton managed to sneak around behind him wielding a dull, savage cleaver. It lifted its bony fingers, meaning to cleave the gnome in half. Balf turned, far too late, to see his attacker not a foot from his face.

An arrow tore right through its skull just as it went to bring down its arm. Her pet charged into the fray, knocking down one skeleton and clawing at another.

“I would have had it!” Balf called out. “But I do appreciate the assist! And now that I can concentrate on my main target…” He crouched low, building up his full power, and fixed his eyes on the abomination that was moving towards him. Even though it towered over the gnome, he did not so much as shy away from his attacker in the slightest. “The powers of chaos, subservient to me!” he yelled as a bolt of green fel fire ripped from his fingers and blasted a hole right through the abomination. It toppled over, its massive frame shaking the ground as it fell.

The fight over and fully exhausted, Balf fell back in the snow and breathed deep. The cold air was tough on his lungs, causing him to cough and wheeze. Jica sat with him, lying back and looking up at the sky that had since turned to night. Even in the depths of Icecrown, there was still tremendous beauty. The sky was lit up with the mysterious aurora of the north. Jica thought it looked breathtaking. “The colours,” she said. “It looks like some of your spells.”

The warlock turned and smiled, but was too exhausted to offer a comment on how even the power of Azeroth shied in comparison to his. They waited a moment for both to catch their breath, enjoying the wonderful display nature was providing them. The healthstone he gave her kept her warm, and she held it close.

“We should be heading back,” she said. “I think I can see the signal fires from the camp off in the distance.”

“You’re quite right!” Balf replied, having regained his energy.

“I can make it back on my own. But thank you, sincerely. For everything.”

“Of course! And…” the gnome looked down at his feet. “I’d like to admit I don’t think I had everything under control when I attacked that camp. Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile and a laugh.

“We make a good team, you know.”

“We do,” she agreed, and with a nod of thanks walked off towards the distant lights.

“I’m heading there too. If you’d… if you’d still like an escort,” he called at her back.

Jica turned back and flashed him a grin. “Better catch up, then!”

“And if you’re still going hunting again tomorrow…”

“...then I think I could use the company.”

They walked back to the camp together, side by side. Jica found she kept looking back at the gnomish adventurer the same way he was looking back at her after their first battle at the hill. Even in spite of the cold, icy region of Northrend, she found there was a warmth in her heart.