“-. March 08, Year 581 of the King’s Calendar .-“

  “Before the shaping of the world, Azeroth was beset by great tentacled horrors from the Great Dark Beyond. These foul beings infested the planet and swarmed it with their unholy spawn, until the entire world was under the yoke of Ny'alotha, the Black Empire.”

  It turned out that the Wildhammer dwarves took consciousness-expanding potions on the regular once they came of age, and some of them gained or unlocked the ability to blend minds with other beings. Without losing consciousness.

  “When the Titans came upon the world and saw it thus beset, they invested of themselves to create beings in their image, to save, succor and keep the world in their name. Thus came to be Azeroth’s Keepers, whose names were Archaedas, Loken, Thorim, Freya, Mimiron, Hodir, Tyr, Ra, and Odyn.”

  It was a dangerous taboo to try and blend minds with other people, getting to the mind required a literal attack through a person’s natural spiritual defenses.

  “It was these nine Keepers who lead the titan-forged armies against the Black Empire, and later created most of their lesser brethren and shaped the world into the vibrant well of life it is today.”

  Even if you got through the spirit – or were let through, which few besides trained shamans could do without lengthy preparation under the same substance imbibements – you still faced the various dangers of matching ego against ego.

  “After the great war that saw the titan-forged victorious, keepers Archaedas and Mimiron created two mighty machines, the Forge of Wills and the Forge of Origination. The former was then used to craft the next generation of beings, the first of which were made from the subterranean being matrix that the Seven-Fold Pantheon had refined over countless eons of ordering and seeding life across the cosmos.”

  Mind blending was also discouraged with base animals, especially vermin, since it disproportionately polluted the human mind with subsapient instincts.

  “Alas, the Keepers were young as Titans went, and not tested in anything but battle. Their first efforts were far from perfect, resulting in the creation of savage creatures made of earth they called troggs. Faulty, misbegotten things, but the Keepers did not find it in their hearts to destroy them. Instead, they allowed one of their lesser brethren, Ironaya, to seal them away within a subterranean vault where they lie to this day.”

  Some dwarves, however, trained enough, or found a noble enough animal, to bind as a permanent symbiotic companion, thus hunters.

  “The second design of the Keepers yielded beings far more acceptable to their eyes and the needs of the world. These were the craggy and kindhearted Earthen, whom the Keepers tasked with specific roles in ordering and protecting Azeroth, crafting mountains and carving out the deep places of the world.”

  Eventually, one of these exceptional dwarves took the risk of turning his mind blending ability towards the local chimeric monstrosities, and so began the age of gryphon riders.

  “Alas, the Keepers were betrayed by one of their own, and the Forge of Wills was tainted with a curse by the greatest remaining tentacled ones. These are the Old Ones which the First Titans had merely imprisoned, after judging them too deeply embedded in the world to remove without destroying Azeroth wholesale.”

  Falstad Wildhammer was neither the best flyer nor the best hammer tosser of the bunch, but he might just be the most talented medium. Talented enough that he might have become a shaman instead if his lineage and interests had been at all different.

  “The new titan-forged began to transmogrify into soft and mortal creatures of flesh and bone. Ever hardy, the Earthen strove on during these times, tunneling into the deep places throughout Azeroth to do their duties as ever. But this only spelled more woe, for the machinations of the Old Ones and the Titan traitor had enabled some of the troggs to break free. These the Earthen eventually found, whereupon they had to set their mission aside in order to battle them for supremacy within the depths of the planet.”

  Normally, Falstad Wildhammer was in full conscious control of his ability, but he was also something of a workaholic due to the constant pressure from the trolls, and his own work ethic. We also happened to catch him at the tail-end of the most stressful winter of his career so far.

  “It was during this war for the deeps that another titan-forged race decided to reap their bloody legacy. Armed by the giants Ignis and Volkhan, the vrykul of clan Winterskorn assailed the Earthen when they were at their most committed and distracted. Thus were the Earthen almost wholesale slaughtered in their lairs.”

  When I healed all of Falstad Wildhammer’s stress away and he became high on its absence – not even endorphins, just the lack of stress hormones was enough – his conscious suppression of his ability as a medium vanished along with all his other inhibitions.

  “Of the Earthen that survived, many retreated to find the aid of Archaedas, Tyr, and Ironaya, who had evaded Loken's treachery unlike most other keepers. Tyr led the bravest Earthen into their cavernous homes and drove out the Winterskorn, pushing them back and preventing their dominion over the Storm Peaks at the top of the world. The Winterskorn responded by enslaving the proto-drakes and shattering the Earthen's advances. Eventually, Tyr had to call upon his dragon allies, who finally defeated the Winterskorn in the air, and then used their magics to send the vrykul into a timeless sleep.”

  One thing led to another, and when Falstad turned his full-bore attention on Blindi, he was about as exposed and actively reaching out to other minds as novices the day right after they first unlocked their power. On the opposite side, there was a brain-dead, soulless flesh puppet controlled through a possession method very much similar to the Wildhammer mindmeld.

  “In the aftermath of the war, most of the surviving Earthen accompanied Tyr on his last mission to defy the mad Loken, whose own machinations had proceeded unchallenged while the Winterskorn war raged. Alongside friendly vrykul who had been afflicted with the Curse of Flesh, and a large deal of Mechagnomes, the Earthen followed Tyr in his retreat. As they fled south, they were beset by terrible Old One generals called C'thraxxi, sent by Loken to prevent the unraveling of his plans. Tyr stayed behind to fight them, and died slaying the one known as Zakazj, while the other, Kith'ix, fled into the northern mountains.”

  The end result was Falstad Wildhammer experiencing what it’s like to be on the receiving end of possession, except instead of a beast or dwarf inside his head he got a Titan.

  “The vrykul stayed behind around Tyr's massive silver fist, renaming the land Tirisfal, but the Earthen and the Mechagnomes continued south with the remaining keepers Archaedas and Ironaya, who were tasked to finish Tyr’s secret mission. They eventually stopped at the easternmost vault of the world, where the troggs had once been interred, and most still remained in stasis. There, they expanded the facility and became its caretakers.”

  After such an experience, it was understandable that one would panic and run everyone as fast as he could back home where it was so much more remote and defensible. I was braced for us to be turned away after that, if not detained or even attacked.

  “There, finally, after all the hardship, when all could take stock of everything they had gone through and lost, the Earthen began to show signs of the Curse of Flesh just as the vrykul had. Thereupon, the bulk of their race requested to be put into slumber by Archaedas just like the troggs, until a cure could be found. All the while, the mechagnomes remained awake to watch over them alongside a small group of Earthen who chose to linger there as caretakers.”

  We weren’t turned away or attacked. Instead, at around noon the day after, High Thane Kurdran Wildhammer himself came down on gryphon back accompanied by his own Wing of riders, and very stiffly offered the best Wildhammer hospitality to ‘the venerable Maker and his attendants.’

  “But as one story pauses, another goes on. There were still those Earthen who stayed behind to fight the war in the deep, and more still in the north where Loken’s betrayal had taken place. Some remain there to this day, while others were rallied by the night elves to resist the Burning Legion during the War of the Ancients 10,000 years ago. When the Well of Eternity exploded at the end of it and caused the continents to split, the still waking Earthen were deeply affected, feeling the pain of the earth as if it were their own. Thus, like their brethren centuries before, they, too, finally retreated to the places of their origin and went into long sleep.”

  Blindi was set to shoot Kurdran down right there and there, which was fair because if he wanted the hassle of questions and genuflections, he wouldn’t have come incognito. But I spoke first and accepted both the best accommodations and the High Thane’s invitation to dine and talk.

  “The Mechagnomes were left as the final caretakers of the now all but defunct ancient places, and over time many began to leave or break down. Eventually, only one mechagnome was left, in the same secret place where the titan-forged races first began. Knowing her time was short, she used the last of her energy to activate the hibernation chambers so as to spare the Earthen from being forgotten forever in the vaults, perishing once this was completed. Thus, the stasis of the Earthen was ended. Thus, through a last act of self-sacrifice millennia after the great calamity, you awoke.”

  Blindi’s stare on the back of my neck had felt incensed and betrayed, but it was also more healthy feeling than I’d coaxed from him the whole time since leaving Alterac. For that alone I was willing to endure whatever retribution he might come up with, and I told him so later in private. I was still conflicted about how completely he deflated at that.

  “You were different now. Your powers over stone and earth had waned, and your rocky hide had softened to smooth skin. You had forgotten everything, save what lingered in dreams. You called yourselves dwarves, not remembering it was but a derogatory term the night elves had called the Earthen before the War of the Ancients.”

  Now, a week later, as I sat by the Great Hearth inside Aerie Peak’s central antre and watched Blindi entertain the dwarves with the story of their origins, I felt nothing but vindication. It was like seeing Greatfather Winter come again, just grumpier and without the red coat and gift bag. Dwarf fellows and dames, young and old, laymen and mystics, believers and skeptics, the cavern was packed full of listeners, not a few with parchment and quill out and writing every word being said. Equally full were the catwalks and causeways carved upwards and downwards all through the mountain. It felt as if every dwarf in Aerie Peak was there, and to a significant extent they were.

  “Emerging from the vault, you found your way out of the titan city and eventually reached Dun Morogh, whose surface you conquered from the ice trolls, and whose underground you turned into the City of Ironforge. Through sentimentality borne on residual ties to your titan-forged heritage, you named your land Khaz Modan, or ‘Mountain of Khaz’, after the titan Khaz'goroth who crafted the bodies of the Keepers themselves, so long ago. And there, as your growing nation stretched beneath the mountains, you finally made contact with the descendants of the mechagnomes who hadn’t perished, the gnomes. It was that natural kinship that allowed you to bond so easily, even aiding them with the construction of Gnomeregan city.”

  I had asked the spirits to carry Blindi’s words as far away as possible, including to the many guards on duty and any others whose work couldn’t be spared. From the psychic feedback, more or less everyone in their range should be hearing Blindi’s story, even on the surface some way outside the mountain.

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  “That is also why you crave knowledge and understanding of the past, why you set aside even the worst offenses if it will help advance the cause of your Explorer’s League. Much as you differ in ways of living and philosophy, your souls recall a time before the transformation from stone to flesh. When a Mountain King takes the Stone Form, he is merely returning to his original state for a time.”

  I turned my attention back to my immediate surroundings when my new second-in-command sat down next to me. As opposed to Emerentius, who was more of a personal assistant at this point, and occasional hitman if I ever needed one. Treasure hunter too, after a fashion, a black dragon’s ability to find and dig up precious resources was why we didn’t need to worry about funds.

  Smelt them too.

  “We were able to find the Farstrider Enclave and speak to the elves there,” said the leader of my Prophet’s Guard, one Sir Magroth the Defender. Whose real name was Barron Garithos, Baron of Blackwood, the father of one Othmar Garithos who would end up leading the Lordaeron remnants against the Scourge in that other future, before being very fatally and uncharacteristically surprised by the Forsaken’s sudden and inevitable betrayal. “They’d been forewarned of our visit and didn’t even wait for us to ask for an observer to our expedition. Their leader said she’d already contacted her superiors thanks to forewarning by the dwarf diviners. Seems the divination ‘blackout’ as you call it has a bunch of their best coming here, from all over the northern continent.”

  “Do they know all of who I am and events back home?”

  “I did not get that impression, but that says nothing of the incoming newcomers.”

  Best brace myself for that then. “Anything else?”

  “Some,” the man scratched his chin, which was every bit as square and voluminous as his son’s would grow to be. “We know why the elves didn’t settle Tirisfal Glades like they originally wanted, when they came from the west. Dath'remar Sunstrider didn't want to kill and conquer the humans who inhabited the region, for one, but their mystics also sensed something horrible and evil buried there, which was affecting them negatively.”

  So that’s why they trudged on until the west- and northmost end of the continent on the opposite side of the landmass. Good for them, and Dath’remar especially since basic human kindness was why the elves survived the subsequent attacks by the Amani trolls, and the horrible winter that followed. That still left the question of why nobody else tried to settle Tirisfal beyond the northmost outskirts, with how large the place is. You’d think at least one major settlement would be established in the area during Lordaeron’s heyday. A coastal settlement would have been useful, if nothing else.

  I’d previously assumed the Tyr’s Guard had discreetly thwarted all such initiatives. While they called themselves a knightly order, they were more of a secret conspiracy made up of people from all levels of Lordaeron society, including high nobility. But I’d asked them and that wasn’t the case, even though they admitted to having plans in place in case that changed.

  Might be it was just the world’s low population density that made it unnecessary to expand into that region, so far. Would explain why the Frostwolf Clan of orcs was able to live in a random valley in the Alterac Mountains too, without anyone stumbling over them for decades. “How are the men?”

  “Morale is high. Sir Forlon says there are still some things to iron out in regards to squad and skill distribution, with how many we had to leave behind. But Shadeslayer says all the men approve of the decision to have at least one trusted friend or kin overseeing order and family affairs back home. Truthbearer has had to mediate some close calls due to culture shock, but nothing malicious on either side. As for Agamand, he says the men feel their choice to volunteer on this quest has already been fully vindicated.”

  In keeping with their secret society nature, everyone in Tyr’s Guard – mine now – used false names when on order business, not just their supreme leader. Sir Sage Truthbearer, our Exemplar of Justice, was actually one Gregory Edmunson, a man who would have become a Paladin of the Silver Hand sometime in the far future. Sir Dagren Shadeslayer, meanwhile, the Exemplar of Sacrifice, was Captain Edward Kang of the Lordaeron Army Reserves.

  Sir Agamand the True was our Exemplar of Compassion and the only one who kept his true name, if switched around from Gregor Agamand. Even then he only risked it because it was a very common name in the lands serviced by the great Agamand mill network in northern Tirisfal. As for our Exemplar of Order, Sir Headsman Forlorn, he was actually a young farmer from the Whispering Gardens called Thomas Thomson. I had the itching feeling I was missing some mighty big information about him, but I didn’t know what.

  I’d have to Reflect on it one of these days, it was really bothering me. “What of you, then?” I asked my Lord Commander. “Do you have any misgivings?”

  “The Light is with us,” Magroth rubbed his thumb over his meditative cincture and sighed. “But I’d still like to have more than one hundred men if we’re going to storm a colossal underground fortress-city filled with corrupted dwarf-kin and giant nightmares of shadow and flame.”

  “Good thing we’re not going straight there then.”

  “I hope we can eventually live up to your expectations,” the middle-aged man told me, misunderstanding my words because I hadn’t told anyone what I really meant by that. Even Odyn. “But though you went through the trouble of investing your very spirit into us, the Light does not favor us near as much as you, Lord. Or even your… manservant.”

  In the original history, the Paladins of the Silver Hand were created by a bunch of priests working together to infuse individuals with as much Light as could possibly be mustered at once. It was the same lightforging ritual used to invest clerics themselves with the power, except taken to the highest possible power level.

  I had the raw power to match any group of clerics, but I didn’t have all that much time to wait for my paladins to figure out the Light’s uses the slow and steady way. So I did something similar to what I did in Alterac Castle, except not all at once. By breaking off tiny fragments of my spirit and giving one to each of them, my inherited insight should have given a head start on their experience gain, at least where Light powers were concerned.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t judge if that worked or not without something to compare it to. I didn’t know how Uther and Turalyon compared to their future selves, Richard didn’t count because he had a ridiculous Light affinity to begin with, and Emerentius was a dragon I literally rebuilt out of the stuff, so he wasn’t a fair comparison to anyone.

  Another thing I’d have to figure out as I go, nothing new there.

  Now to deal with something else that wasn’t new. “Thank you for your report, Commander. Now I do believe someone else will be needing your seat shortly.”

  “Understood.” Magroth got up, saluted with a fist against his heart, and stepped away to join the four others of his men playing bodyguard.

  A couple of minutes later, two figures came out of the tunnel leading up to the top-most gate out of Aerie Peak. One was the very harassed and sour-faced dwarf Odyn had accidentally run off during our first meeting. The other was the human boy he just barely managed to drag along by the scruff, on account of him already being taller than the dwarf was. Aedelas Blackmoore, my squire. Who’d spent the past few days showing me that he was already the most persistent and devious little shit that ever lived.

  Without me even having to ask him.

  “You!” Falstad Wildhammer barked when he was finally close enough to literally throw Aedelas at me. “Keep this brat under control or else!”

  I caught the unapologetically grinning boy around the back and settled him next to me. “Or else what?”

  “Or a gryphon’ll mistake ‘im fer game an’ eat ‘im! Bad enough ye’ve had ‘im literally stalkin’ me this whole time – as if! – but now I canna even have peace in the gryphon pens?!”

  “I swear on the Light I didn’t tell him to do anything of the sort,” I said honestly, causing Falstad to angrily open his mouth- “But if he hadn’t shown this initiative, I probably would have sent him after you someway.”

  The dwarf snapped his mouth shut with incredulous disbelief. “Madmen, the lot of ye.”

  “I’m asking the spirits to keep our talk private.” Arrestor promptly did me that favor. “Wouldn’t want people to think I’d ever accuse their future High Thane of cowardice.”

  “Bite yer tongue unless I – ye dare call me a coward?!” The future supreme leader of all Wildhammer dwarves everywhere gave me a look of flustered disbelief. “I ain’t been runnin’ away none! I’ve just been busy!” The dwarf cringed at his own outburst and looked around circumspectly. It only drew more of his people’s attention, but they turned away at his glare. Alas for him, the same glare had no more effect on me than it had Aedelas, when he turned it on me. “Ack – fie! Fie on ye! Bah! So I’ve been hidin’ from yer lot of crazies, so what?!”

  “I apologize for the distress we inflicted on you.”

  My words took the dwarf aback, then promptly made him flush crimson in utter mortification. “K-keep yer kid’s gloves ter yerself! I’m on ter ya, don’t think I ain’t!”

  Falstad Wildhammer, it seemed, was the sort whose accent got thicker the more flustered he became. “You’ll be accompanying us on our journey then?”

  “Don’t be puttin’ words in me mouth either! Or are ye tryin’ ter provoke me? Ye wanna go?!”

  “The matchup would hardly be fair, I’ll just talk to your cousin about it.”

  “Wuzzat s’pposed ter mean?! Keep it up and I’ll-”

  “Ahem.”

  Falstad angrily whirled around to give the newcomer a what for, only to freeze when he found High Thane Kurdran Wildhammer behind him, looking mighty uptight.

  Falstad clamped his mouth shut and stiffly looked between him and me. When Kurdran only continued to stare at him in suppressed chastisement, Falstad turned to me with a pretense of calm only less credible than the first time he landed back at the neutral zone. “I’ll be going now.”

  He walked off.

  Kurdran didn’t stop him. Neither did his warriors standing guard. The High Thane just watched his cousin leave, before turning to glance at one of his bodyguards. The greying dwarf in question performed some manner of spell that annulled Arrestor’s privacy field. A shaman then.

  I didn’t tell my spirit to restore the spell.

  Finally, Kurdran Wildhammer faced me with a face full of stilted chagrin “I swear my cousin isn’t usually like this.”

  “Joining minds with a Titan is no trifle,” I said understandingly. “I know from experience.”

  “The Maker implied something of the sort too.”

  The way he said ‘Maker’ had none of the skepticism of the first time he greeted us. “Finally a believer?”

  “When all the shamans try a repeat of what my cousin did, only to come out even worse but still in unanimous agreement about what’s on the other side of that whitebeard’s eyes, there isn’t much room left for doubt.” The High Thane’s eyes were conflicted. “Were you serious, what you told my cousin? Retaking Grim Batol…”

  “Yes.”

  “We tried that, I hope you know. Modgud’s curse made fools of all of us.” It was impossible not to feel the attention of everyone in earshot. “The only fools more pitiful than the ones not born at the time were the dead ones.”

  “You will not succeed in warning me away.”

  The High Thane’s next words were guarded. “Even if we don’t offer our help?”

  The Wildhammer dwarves kept surprising me with their complete lack of care for decorum. Or even operational security. I’d have thought he’d want to have this talk in whatever passed for his throne room, if not behind closed doors. I myself wouldn’t have this talk out here in the public square if I were in his place.

  But I wasn’t going to complain about stumbling upon a truly transparent society. Stuff like this was why I’d intended to come east to begin with, before bronze dragons meddled in my life. “I’ll do it with or without you, but consider this: I have a plan to at least match any armed force you’d be willing to devote to such a campaign, and I can secure that help without you too. Will you suffer for anyone other than the Wildhammer dwarfs to make the greatest contribution to this Reclamation?”

  “You’re every bit as brazen as the Maker said you were.”

  “Not your cousin?”

  “Even he didn’t complain about it as much as Him.”

  I could practically hear the capital letter. “I’ll say this – your presence could much improve my chances to secure the help I have in mind, so long as my lead is followed on it.”

  “You keep speaking of help but never say what it is.”

  “That will have to remain a secret for now I’m afraid.”

  “Secrets upon secrets upon more secrets, even the Maker would’ve stayed hidden from us if not for my cousin’s lapse. Why are you even here if you won’t share anything worthwhile? If it’s just to talk down to us, you know where the exit is.”

  Contrasting their internal transparency, the dwarves were also far more reticent with outsiders than I had feared. Kurdran Wildhammer in particular was nowhere near as outward-looking as I recalled from the Tides of Darkness chronicles and the Outland Crusade, when he left his lands behind to play Alliance scout. What was in store for him as High Thane, that I’d come and pre-empted? “I though the true history of your people might be worth something.”

  “And it is, but it was sheer dumb luck that the Maker was exposed enough to consent to revealing it, and there is little hope to be found in all he said.” The dwarf watched me dourly. “He says he won’t even travel with you past the Badlands. What can I get from that, besides that he shares none of your mad confidence? If even he won’t commit whatever godly might he can call upon, why should we trust any hope at all?”

  Odyn’s already given me angels and he has more important things to do, I thought but didn’t say. Even though it was the truth. Instead, I waited for Kurdran to make a decision.

  Kurdran Wildhammer agonized over it for quite some time, all the way until Blindi finally got fed up with answering questions and got up from his seat of honor to find some privacy aboveground.

  We all watched quietly as Blindi grumbled his way out of the cavernous hall, trailed by a gaggle of tiny dwarf children and their parents out through the passage opposite the one Falstad and the High Thane himself had come through.

  Sometime after, when they all were gone from both sight and hearing, Kurdran Wildhammer gave a gusty sigh. “I am sorry. It’s far too much trust you’re asking for, too suddenly, far too much between strangers, never mind from different kindreds as ours. The only thing that can kill our people more than this mad hope you want to give us is to carve its final epitaph with our own hands, in our own blood.”

  “A trade then.” It wasn’t like I expected this to be easy, and uplifting the dwarves along the way was part of the point too. “Give me a month, and the cooperation of your best smiths and craftsmen, and I’ll give you a wonder you’ll be honor-bound to repay.”

  That, finally, seemed to be something the dwarf hadn’t been prepared for.

  “I’d much rather have your friendship, but I agree that my secrecy is too unfair burden to demand that you alone should bear, so I’ll settle for alliance based on equivalent exchange.”