Authors: Richard A. Knaak
“Memories stirring?”
“Or simply common sense. Whichever the case, I remain resolved that we can go no farther than the mountain. Despite what history says, I cannot see the night elves triumphing if we fail to make a halt.”
“But Lord Ravencrest is already doing all he can and we’ve worn ourselves out just buying time.”
“Then we must do more.” The dragon mage raised himself up as much as riding a night saber would permit. “Would that I could find Malfurion. His skill would be one needed now.”
“I last saw him with the priestess, Tyrande. He looked as pale as one of his kind could get. He battled something out there that nearly destroyed him.”
“Yes, I think it was Archimonde.”
“Then Malfurion would be dead.”
Krasus shook his head. “No…and that is why I wish he were here. Nonetheless, with or without him, we must begin our assault anew.”
“Begin what anew?”
Rhonin’s former mentor turned back toward the direction of the demons. “Yes, we must take the offensive again.”
The greatest of the dragons gathered in the Chamber of the Aspects, led there by Alexstrasza and Neltharion. The four Aspects present guided the proceedings, attended only by their consorts and those of the absent Nozdormu. All other dragons had given of themselves already; but for those of such power as now awaited their turn, the process required more delicacy.
The Earth Warder’s three mates remained all but hidden behind him. They were larger than Korialstrasz, but were still dwarfed by the black male. As he studied them, Alexstrasza’s youngest consort noted that they seemed but shadows of the Earth Warder, their every movement based upon what Neltharion did or said. The red dragon found this disturbing, but no one else seemed to notice.
The emerald males attending Ysera were slim, almost ghosts in comparison to the other great leviathans. More unsettling, they, like their mistress, moved about with their eyes constantly closed. Yet, beneath those lids, one could see the eyes shift back and forth. The greens constantly existed in two planes, more often than not in the Emerald Dream. They were silent and still, but Korialstrasz felt their magical senses monitoring the situation closely.
Malygos and his mates were a distinct contrast. They were constantly in motion, nudging one another and looking here and there and everywhere. Their blue-white scales glittered in merry little displays of magic and occasionally small details concerning one or the other would alter as the whim struck. Korialstrasz found them more refreshing than the blacks and greens.
Almost as solemn as Ysera and her mates were the four consorts of Nozdormu. They had the same sandy bronze texture as the Aspect, but were more solid than the almost-fluid monarch of Time. Korialstrasz wondered exactly where Nozdormu had gone that he would miss such events. From what little he had gleaned from his queen, it seemed that even the Aspect’s mates did not know with certainty what had happened.
Yet, the Timeless One was still here in essence and that was a vital point. In the paws of the eldest of the females stood an hourglass made of what appeared to be pure golden sunlight. Within it, glittering bronze sands flowed not down but up. When the top filled, they then descended, only to begin their upward march once more.
The sands were a part of Nozdormu, set separate by him for urgent need by his flight. All the Aspects supposedly had some part of their essence put aside, for they were more than huge, reptilian beasts. They represented the most powerful forces of the world, the very fabric of its being, created by those who had molded the world itself. True, they were bound by its earthly laws, but they were as much above the other dragons as dragons were the younger races.
The various flights had alternated their offerings, one at a time. Now only two remained, the last, ironically, being Korialstrasz.
For some reason, he did not feel very much honored.
But before Korialstrasz presented himself, the essence of the Timeless One had to be brought forth. Saridormi, the Aspect’s prime mate, carried the hourglass gently in her left forepaw as she stepped up to the Dragon Soul.
Neltharion’s creation floated in the very midst of the chamber, its simplistic form radiating a fearsome yet majestic glow. All were bathed in a rainbow of colors that, not coincidentally, matched the shadings of the dragons.
“I come bearing representation of He Who Is Without End, He Who Sees Past, Present, and Future!” Saridormi intoned. She raised the glittering timepiece above the shimmering disk. “In his name I add his strength, his power, his self, to this weapon that we will use against the fiends attacking our realm!”
With a single squeeze of her powerful paw, the gargantuan dragon broke the hourglass.
The sand that was the essence of Nozdormu did not fall in a heap, as Korialstrasz had expected. Instead, it swirled out—as if itself a live, sentient thing—and began to spin above the Dragon Soul. As it spun, a light sprinkle of bronze rained down upon the disk. Each particle struck with a brilliant flash, then vanished within.
A bright radiance filled the chamber as the last grain sank inside, a luminous sunburst that momentarily blinded Korialstrasz. He turned his eyes away and did not look again until the light had faded. The red leviathan saw that the rest, even the greens, had been forced to shield their view. Only Neltharion appeared to have watched it all, his wide, avid gaze drinking in everything.
“My love,” came Alexstrasza’s whisper.
Still ill at ease for reasons he could not explain, Korialstrasz strode forward. By himself, he would have chosen to deny the Dragon Soul his essence, but his queen had asked this boon of him as she had all the others; how could he be the only one to say no? Nevertheless, he stared at the talisman as if seeing not the salvation of the world, but something that tainted it.
That was foolish, though, he thought. For what reason would the Earth Warder do such a heinous thing?
Then, the Dragon Soul loomed before him. So close, Korialstrasz found nothing insignificant about it. Here was power such as many in the past had dreamt of, and others would do so again for centuries on. Here was the joined essences of all the dragons, the most powerful of the world’s children.
“It is waiting for you.”
The red dragon looked up into the huge visage of the black. Neltharion never blinked. His breathing came in rapid gasps, as if he grew more and more frenzied with each second that Korialstrasz hesitated.
There is something not right in this…Alexstrasza’s mate thought. But then he recalled how willingly she, Malygos, and Ysera had given of themselves. Malygos, in fact, had been determined to be the first among them to sacrifice a bit of himself, his way of championing his friend’s cause. If the Master of Magic trusted the work of Neltharion, who was mere Korialstrasz to say otherwise?
And with that thought still hanging over him, the red opened himself up to the Dragon Soul.
The disk flared, bathing him in its daunting illumination. Korialstrasz bared his chest to it and willed away all the natural magical defenses dragons kept about themselves. He felt the Dragon Soul reach into him as he had seen it do to the others, reach in as if his armored hide were nothing but illusion…
Seconds later, the unsettling force reemerged from his chest—but with it the Dragon Soul drew something else. It was an intangible, squirming thing—not exactly light, not exactly substance. A faint crimson aura surrounded it, and as the last bit separated from Korialstrasz, he felt a loss that saddened him.
Steeling himself, the red watched as the illumination of the Dragon Soul pulled the offering toward it. Slowly, the light sank back into the disk.
As that which the Dragon Soul had taken from him followed suit, Korialstrasz gasped. He wanted to reach out and take back what was his, but to do so would destroy the effort and, worse, shame him before his beloved Alexstrasza.
And so Korialstrasz watched helplessly as the Dragon Soul absorbed his essence, added it to the others. He watched helplessly as Neltharion snatched the disk almost covetously and held it before the other leviathans.
“It is done…” the Earth Warder declared. “All have given that which must be given. I now seal the Dragon Soul forever so that what has been attained will never be lost.”
Neltharion shut his eyes. His body took on a black, ominous aura, one that flowed from him to the tiny but mighty talisman in his forepaw.
The other great dragons started. For a moment, a very brief but telling moment, the Dragon Soul burned as black as its creator.
“Should that be?” asked Ysera quietly.
“For it to be as it must, yes,” Neltharion replied almost defiantly.
“It is a weapon like no other. It must be like no other,” added the knowledgeable Malygos.
The Earth Warder nodded his appreciation for the blue dragon’s words. Neltharion gazed around the chamber, seeing if anyone had further questions. A few came to Korialstrasz’s mind, but he felt unworthy to ask them in the face of his queen’s satisfaction with events.
“The final casting will take time,” the black leviathan informed the others. “It has to be taken from here to a place of silence and privacy, where the most delicate castings will be made.”
“How long?” asked Alexstrasza. “It must not be too late.”
“It will be ready when it needs be ready.” And with that, Neltharion spread his wings and rose into the air. His mates followed suit almost perfectly, like puppets whose strings were attached to the Earth Warder.
The other dragons watched as he vanished through what seemed the solid wall of the chamber, then also began taking off. Alexstrasza remained where she was, and so Korialstrasz did likewise.
But as his gaze followed the departing behemoths, his thoughts continued to reflect upon what they had wrought this day. He could never deny the incredible power of the tiny, golden disk. Truly, Neltharion had crafted a weapon the likes of which even the endless hordes of the demons could not stand against.
Nor, for that matter, he realized belatedly, even dragons.
M
alfurion dreamed. He dreamed that he and Tyrande lived in a beautiful tree home in the midst of grand Suramar. It was the high time of the year and all was in bloom. Lush plant life covered the region like a beautiful carpet. The immense tree cooled them with its thick, shading foliage, and flowers of all colors and patterns surrounded the trunk’s base.
Tyrande, clad in a glorious gown of yellow, green, and orange, played a silver lyre while their children, a boy and a girl, darted around the tree, giggling and laughing as they ran. Malfurion sat near the window of his proud abode, breathing in the fresh air and savoring the life he had attained. The world was at peace, and his family knew nothing but happiness…
Then, a violent tremor shook the tree. Malfurion clutched the window and saw with horror the homes and towers of Suramar quickly tumble over. Other structures collapsed. People screamed, and massive fires burst to life in every direction.
He looked for his children, but they were nowhere to be found. As for his mate, Tyrande continued to sit on one of the thick branches just outside, her fingers strumming a tune on the lyre.
Daring to lean out, Malfurion shouted, “Tyrande! Come inside! Quickly!”
But she ignored him, blithely caught up in her music despite the growing catastrophe and her own precarious position.
The tree house abruptly tipped. Malfurion tried using his druidic powers to keep it from collapsing, but nothing happened. The tree—all the flora—felt dead to his senses.
The house’s fall finally awoke Tyrande. Dropping the lyre, she screamed and reached for Malfurion, but the distance was too great. Malfurion’s mate lost her balance and slipped off the branch—
But a figure in black swiftly rose into the air, readily catching her. Illidan smiled magnanimously at Tyrande, then nodded congenially to his brother. However, instead of coming to Malfurion’s aid, the other twin began to fly off with his catch.
“Illidan!” Malfurion shouted, trying to maintain his hold. “Come back!”
His sibling paused in midair. Still holding Tyrande tight, he turned and laughed at Malfurion.
And as he laughed, Illidan transformed, growing larger, more horrific. His garments tore as armor hidden underneath burst through. His skin color darkened and a savage, jagged tail sprouted from behind him. A clawed hand held out the druid’s mate over the ruined city, shaking her like a rag doll.
And Malfurion stared in horror as Archimonde dangled Tyrande before him—
“Nooo!”