Tearlach (Act V)

Template:Tearlach nav Tyrael's portal vanished behind Tearlach, and an icy wind, wonderfully familiar, instantly bit at his skin. All the familiar smells of childhood washed into his mind... jothula wood smoke, that makes meat so savory... the tang of raw iron, scorched by the forge's heat... bundles of dry heather, for shelter against the rain and snow. A sense of peace filled his soul, until new sounds pushed the happy memories aside. Screams, the clash of steel, and loud whooshing noises filled the air, coming from a very short distance away. He opened his eyes. Before him was Harrogath, proudly defiant as ever, untaken by the forces of darkness.

"It looks like we have arrived in time," Cain said next to him. "This town looks untouched. Are we in Harrogath?"

"Aye, where else could we be?" With a huge grin, Tearlach spread his arms as if to take the whole city in one manly embrace. "The last bastion of order in the world. What a feast for the eyes! Wizard, in all your travels, have you ever seen such grandeur and magnificence in one blessed city?"

Blinking through the drifting snow, Cain looked around. This town might be many things, but "a city" was not one of them. Even Tristram was bigger. Nor was there anything "grand" about it. The heavy, ponderous architecture did have a kind of blocky distinction to it, but calling it "magnificent" was quite a stretch. He cleared his throat quietly. "Hmm."

Slowly, Tearlach's face fell as he looked around. "Strange... I remember it being a lot bigger than this."

"Perhaps you were smaller then," Cain suggested.

The Barbarian stood silent. "I think you could fit this whole place inside that weenie-boy's palace back in the desert."

"If you make use of his cellars..."

Now he was frowning, starting to look angry. "Where are the banners, damn it?! There's no colors, it's all gray and the trees are all dead!"

"Calm yourself! It is winter, and snowing -- the trees are just sleeping! Really, it's a fine city... more of a fortress, really, which I suspect is its purpose."

Tearlach laughed. "You're right, wizard. The true people do not hide inside cities, there's no need to make them big and pretty. This is a fortress, built strong to stand against evil."

"Yes, and it seems to be fulfilling its purpose," Cain said, listening to the sounds outside the high walls. "I see some men over there, by that building. Why don't we ask them how the battle goes?"

For a moment, Tearlach actually looked nervous. Then he shrugged. "Why not? In war, any friend is a true friend."

Two big Barbarians, each easily Tearlach's size, had collapsed against a wall. They must be a remarkable people indeed, Cain thought, if they all possess such great strength. These two, though, were covered with bandages, and looked utterly exhausted. That didn't stop them from smiling as they approached. "Hey, hoo's the fancy boy?"

"Now don't he look pretty, with all them shiny jewels. And the big helmet with wings!"

"Aye, it's got wings," Tearlach snarled. "Only great heroes wear these. Must be why yoo've never seen one!"

Both of them burst out laughing, though it looked like it hurt. "Great heroes! Yoo think yoo're gonna walk out there and glitter 'em all to death?"

"No, he's gonna flap his wings and fly over the catapults!"

"Maybe he'll chop a tree down on 'em with his little axe!"

"If yoo lot are finished bein' stupid," Tearlach said, "I've just come from Hell, where I made Lord Diablo and Lord Mephisto wish they'd never crawled out of the slime pit that spawned 'em! I'm here to pick up the third, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna waste time listenin' to two mutton-heads sit on their behinds while a war's on. Harrogath stands, and I intend to see that it doesn't fall! Does Qual-Kehk still live?"

"I never heard of a great hero hoo hid behind a shield!" one of them spat.

He impassively replied, "I heard yoo all are hiding inside a wall. A magic wall, raised by the elders. Is that true?"

Both of them fell silent, eyes cast down. "Aye, it's true. The elders raised a magic wall around the city. We'd be dead if they had not. The catapults would have finished us."

"Druids," the other shook his head slowly. "Magic. What's the world comin' to?"

"And so yoo're hiding in here," Tearlach fumed, "while demons defile Arreat."

"There is little any of us can do," another voice said. A very old woman, bent nearly double, had slowly hobbled outside. "Yoo're... Tearlach, aren't yoo? I thought I recognized that tone of voice."

Tearlach nodded. "Yes, Malah. I heard the sacred mountain was threatened, and came."

Slowly, Malah nodded. With eyes hard as flint, she gently inquired, "Did yoo bring yoor father's war gear with you... or have yoo lost it?"

He swallowed, but returned her gaze. "It is with me and safe, though I do not wear it any more. In my travels, I have vanquished many foes, and come with steel of my own."

"Good. If they still live, yoor clan will wish its return. This is no time for old grudges. Our need is great, and valorous deeds may wipe out old transgressions. Qual-Kehk commands us still, though I cannot see what good one more sword will do."

"It is not the sword, but the arm that wields it." Tearlach looked out, beyond the city walls. "But first: what is a 'catapult', Malah?"

"A foul beast made of demon flesh fused with steel. It has one great arm, and hurls balls of magic great distances. As you were told, they would be throwing their magic directly over our walls were it not for the elders' sacrifice."

"The elders' sacrifice?"

"Yes," Malah said. The hard edges of her face fell away, and sorrow filled her eyes. "All the elders died placing the ward over the city. All save Nihlathak."

A look of disgust crossed Tearlach's face. "Och, he would weasel out of it. Never trust a snake clansman!" Then he stopped himself. "No, yoo are right, no time for grudges. This is the final battle, we are all in it together. And my place is in battle, not here." He hefted his axe, the red light of rage filling his eyes. "I'll be back."

Watching Tearlach charge towards Harrogath's only gate, Cain smiled. Not so long ago, he wouldn't have bothered asking what a catapult was. Malah seemed surprised too. "What a strange world this has become. If I had not seen his face, I would never know it was him."

"We all change over time. I am Deckard Cain the elder, of the order of the Horadrim. You are known as Malah, I heard?"

"Yes, young man," she smiled, with a twinkle in her eye. "Have yoo been with him on his journeys? Is what he says true?"

"In essence, yes. It was in Entsteig, far to the south, where we met. The demon queen Andarial had taken over the Rogue's monastery. He was able to defeat her, and has since gone on to face many of the lords of Hell. Quite a saga could be made of it, I am certain."

Malah clucked her tongue. "Were he to say such things, I would not believe it. The young warrior I knew never stopped boasting. Now he comes, but does not say anything of what he has done."

"He has changed, in the time I have known him. Slowly, reluctantly, and with a great deal of denial." Chuckling, he continued, "He is probably not even aware of it. I have noticed he spends little time in introspection."

"What good is looking inward, when all faults lie without?" Malah laughed with Cain. "Yoo do have a way with words, young man. Puts me in mind of my late husband, may the Light shine on his path. Do yoo intend to stay long?"

Cain shivered a bit. None of these Barbarians, even Malah, seemed to notice that it was snowing. "Perhaps not too long, only to render what assistance I may in the quest against the might of Hell. Would you mind if I went to look around your beautiful city?"

"Yoo go ahead. It's not likely yoo're a spy for Baal. Speak with Nihlathak. Maybe yoor silvery tongue can break the silence he carries with him."

The first thing Cain looked for was somewhere warm. Say what you will about Hell - there's not much good to say about it - at least you're not likely to freeze to death. Down the way from Malah's, a huge open-air smithy stood atop a high platform. The smith was easily the biggest man he'd ever seen, a giant even among Barbarians. You could probably fit three of me inside his shoulders, Cain surmised. "Hello there."

"Uhng," the smith grunted, and returned to his work.

Not much of a conversationalist, it seemed. "I see you really love your work," Cain said, trying to draw the man out.

"I used to," the smith grunted, pounding a frightening-looking dent out of a helmet. "Now all I do is fix things for men who are going to die. Soon, I'm going to have to put down my hammer and take up a sword myself."

"Are all your warriors on the field? The city seems empty."

"On the field, in some demon's belly... what's the difference? The warriors can't lift the siege. It's die out there or starve in here. Big difference."

"Good news may come soon. There is always hope."

The smith just looked irritated. Further talk would serve no purpose, Cain realized. Despair has this man in its grip, and will not let go until he sees reason to hope. "Good day."

Most of the town was empty. Buildings stood vacant, kitchens untended, beds empty, the hearths gone cold. A few Barbarians sat here and there, cooking meager meals or staring empty-eyed into the distance. One was different from the rest: much older, and thin to the point of emaciation. His appearance was so unusual, Cain had to stop and talk with him.

"Hello. I am Deckard Cain the elder, of the order of the Horadrim."

"Well, well," the man sneered. "What have we here? An old vulture, come to loot our fallen? If yoo plan to grow rich off others' stupidity, yoo've come to the right place. There's more than enough to spare."

"Not at all... I have come to help, in any way I can."

"Yoo needn't have bothered. The great and mighty Qual-Kehk, our battle leader hoo has never led anyone into battle in his life, has the situation well under control. I am sure having so many men die is all part of some bold subterfuge."

"You face a foe of demonic strength," Cain replied, growing uneasy, "and you are not vanquished yet."

"A fact which has nothing to do with our warriors. The knowledge of myself and the other elders saved our lives... forbidden knowledge. But what can yoo expect, in a land where mere knowledge is forbidden?"

Ah, ha, Cain thought. "It is most unfortunate, when knowledge is forbidden. My whole life has been spent in its pursuit. Lately, I have traveled with young Tearlach, who says --"

Nihlathak laughed. "What would that insolent puppy have to say that anyone should listen to? There are no words to express his ignorance -- stark in its frankness, invulnerable in its arrogance, as predictable as the rising of the sun. Next to him, Qual-Kehk is a scholar. The wisest thing we ever did was to exile him."

"Hmm. Tearlach seems well-known here."

"The word yoo are trying not to say is 'infamous.' The less those like him occupy my thoughts, the happier I am."

"Then I will not bother you any more with my prattling. Good day to you."

So that is Nihlathak, Cain thought as he walked away. He had more to say than he thought he might, but none of it was very informative. It also struck him as curious that everyone in Harrogath seemed to know Tearlach. As far as he knew, Barbarians were nomads, each clan trekking over hundreds of square miles of territory. How likely was it that everyone in the northern mountains had met him? The boy must have done something extraordinary to make himself so "infamous." But what?

Inside Harrogath's iron gate, a huge man in bronzed plate armor waited. His hair was long, like all Barbarians except Tearlach, and snowy white. Obviously, a man of importance, and long years, which carried great respect here. "Hello, I am Deckard Cain the elder."

"Hunh," the big man grunted. "I am Qual-Kehk, senior man-at-arms. Ordinarily, it would be my sacred duty to take yoor head and put it on Harrogath's battlements as a warning to other outlanders."

Cain smiled nervously. "Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you, too. I am not a fighting man, but I will help in any way I can."

"I've no use for a weak old man," Qual-Kehk said, his gaze returning to the mountain rising above the city.

Straightforward talk seems to be the way of things here. Well, when in Rome... "I came with a young warrior named Tearlach. Have you heard of him?"

"Aye. He returned here?"

"Yes. We heard from... a reliable source that Harrogath was in danger. I understand he was exiled... something to do with his father's fighting equipment?"

"No. He was exiled for arrogance. He stole the Berserker's Arsenal after."

Despite himself, Cain was shocked. "Arrogance? How arrogant does a Barbarian have to be to be exiled for it?"

Qual-Kehk's gaze never wavered from the mountain. "Yoo've met him."