Authors: Richard A. Knaak
Krasus did not congratulate himself for his quick action. Urging his mount toward Lord Ravencrest, he sought the noble’s attention. Unfortunately, Ravencrest moved away from him as he, in turn, attempted to give commands to some of his soldiers.
The dragon mage peered up at the clouds. There was still a chance. If the night elves were warned quickly enough, disaster could yet be averted.
Then a tingling coursed through his body. Krasus lost control of his limbs. He slumped over the shoulders of his panther, and would have fallen off if not for the girth of the beast. Too late did Krasus realize that his fears for the host had left him momentarily open to the attack of an Eredar warlock.
And as he struggled to overcome the spell, Krasus’s gaze twisted skyward. The clouds had thickened, darkened. They seemed to sag from their immense weight…
No…all that he saw was illusion, and he knew it. Fighting both the warlock’s attack and the vision above, Krasus finally pierced the facade the demons had cast on the stormy sky. The swelling bottoms of the clouds vanished, revealing the truth.
From out of the heavens, the Burning Legion rained down upon the defenders.
M
alfurion sensed something amiss even as his spell took full effect. The plants had been all too pleased to be a part of his desire, for they found the demons an abhorrence. With silent coaxing, he made them expand to lengths far greater than normal, then manipulated them so that they were more like the squirming, seeking tentacles of a kraken than simply roots. By doing so, he had enabled the soldiers to slay many of the demons.
But from another point far from the battle, his heightened senses detected a wrongness which he realized had to be a protective spell. Without opening his eyes, Malfurion reached out and discovered that the source lay not anywhere on the ground, but rather high above.
In the clouds.
Still seeing with the powers taught him by Cenarius, the druid delved into the cloud cover and sought what attempted to be hidden.
And in his mind Malfurion saw hundreds of airborne demons.
They were Doomguard for the most, so many that Malfurion could only assume that they had been gathered from other parts of the horde just for this. With their savage weapons and horrific faces, they were terrible to behold. Alone, they would be a terrible enough foe to confront.
Even more unnerving, however, were those that flew among them. There were Eredar warlocks, scores of them. They had no wings, but kept aloft through spells. Watching them, Malfurion knew that some kept the illusion consistent while others already sought out weaknesses in the night elven forces.
But as terrible as all this was, what soared toward the battle, from behind the Doomguard and Eredar, shook Malfurion the most. As if launched by a thousand catapults, huge, fiery rocks descended with terrible precision through the clouds. The druid pressed harder, avoiding the warlocks’ senses as best he could, and saw the missiles for what they truly were.
Infernals.
Eyes snapping open, Malfurion shouted to any who could hear, “Beware the skies! They attack us from the skies!”
He caught Lord Stareye’s attention briefly, but the noble simply sniffed his direction, then focused again on the demons’ decimated ranks. Malfurion pushed his mount forward and seized one of the sentinels.
“Sound the warning! The demons attack us through the clouds!”
But the soldier only looked at him in befuddlement, not understanding. The illusion above still held, and any who looked upward surely thought the druid mad.
Finally, Malfurion saw another who seemed to understand. Krasus crossed his field of vision, the mysterious and pale mage seeming frantic about something. As their gazes met, both realized that the other understood. Krasus pointed, not at Ravencrest but rather at Illidan. Malfurion nodded, catching his meaning immediately; the druid had to warn one of the few who could quickly react to the threat above.
“Illidan!” Malfurion shouted, standing in the saddle in the hopes that his twin would see him. Illidan, though, was far too caught up in his spells to notice anything.
Concentrating, Malfurion asked the wind to aid him. When it agreed, he had it concentrate its efforts. Guiding it with his finger, the druid rubbed his own cheek twice.
His brother abruptly touched his cheek in turn, the wind having imitated Malfurion’s touch. Illidan glanced over his shoulder and saw his twin.
Pointing skyward, Malfurion made a warning expression. Illidan almost turned away, but Malfurion grew angry and glared. His brother finally looked up.
At that moment, the first of the demons dropped through the illusion.
The Eredar struck the moment that they were visible, casting spells in unison that swept over the night elves’ lines. Heavy droplets fell upon the soldiers, causing no major concern until the first began burning through armor and flesh. Cries arose from those struck as the shower became a monstrous downpour. Night elves fell writhing as their faces were seared away.
Malfurion spoke with the wind again, asking it to blow the torrent away from his people. As he did, he sensed Illidan and the Moon Guard casting their own spells.
One of the warlocks exploded with a shriek, one of the Doomguard nearby also perishing. However, when the night elven sorcerers sought to slay others, their attacks were met by an invisible shield.
The strong wind summoned by the druid pushed away the horrendous downpour, but the damage had already been done. The defenders’ lines faltered.
Then, the Infernals began dropping.
The initial wave did not reach the earth. Two exploded and several more suddenly bounced against empty air, soaring in random directions away from the night elves. A bolt of blue lightning cut through one, two, three demons in rapid succession.
But despite the efforts of the sorcerers, the wizards, and the druid, too many of the Infernals descended. One struck the center of the already-ravaged line with catastrophic results. A dozen catapults filled with explosive powders could have done only a fraction of the havoc the single demon did. Like leaves in the wind, the night elves were tossed about. The shock of the strike sent others tumbling to the ground, where the Fel Guard quickly and viciously dispatched them.
More Infernals struck in rapid succession. All order fled the defenders’ front. Worse, each massive demon who landed then rose from the steaming craters that they had created and began barreling through the night elves.
The powerful roots that Malfurion had summoned proved ineffectual against the skull-faced Infernals, who ripped through them as if they were nothing. By the scores the fiery behemoths pounded the night elves, wreaking mayhem wherever they moved.
Then a lance lost by a fallen soldier rose into the air just before one Infernal. Blazing blue, it suddenly shot toward the demon at a speed that made even the Infernal appear sluggish. As it flew with unerring accuracy at the demon, the lance grew, its head transforming into a sharp, almost needle-like point.
It skewered the one Infernal with such ease that the demon did not at first realize he was dead. The behemoth gaped, then twitched madly. His forward momentum ceased as the lance, propelled by magic, continued to drive ahead.
As if no heavier than an infant, the huge Infernal was dragged backward. The lance continued to speed up, catching another Infernal just as he emerged from the crater. The demon had time only to stare wide-eyed before it, too, was impaled.
Its swiftness not in the least decreasing, the magical spear caught a third Infernal unaware. Only then did its momentum cease and the missile and its victims dropped among the dead.
From Malfurion’s side, Rhonin, his brow furrowed, nodded his satisfaction. But just when it appeared that the defenders might turn the battle again, horns sounded from the north.
“The Legion!” Krasus shouted. “They come from the other side!”
The full, awful truth now lay revealed. As if rising from the earth itself, an immense horde emerged from the north and fell upon the soldiers there. Like those above, they had been hidden by a spell. Now they swarmed like ants. The night elves fought valiantly, but their already-damaged lines buckled under the new onslaught.
The demons had planned their trap well, relying much on the arrogance of the night elves. What Ravencrest had seen as a minor skirmish, an easy victory with which to stoke the courage of his troops, had been instead a costly, sinister trick.
“We’ve got to retreat!” Rhonin said. “It’s the only way at this point!”
At first, it appeared that Lord Ravencrest would not do what needed to be done. No signal to retreat came even though the demons pressed hard. Infernals continued to drop upon the night elves and the Eredar, some protecting the others, cast one vile spell after another. Malfurion and his companions could no longer attack; they had to do everything they could simply to deflect most of the warlocks’ assaults. Even the Moon Guard could do little but shield the battered host.
Finally, the horns called out for retreat. The Burning Legion gave no quarter, though, and each step back was bought with more blood.
“This attrition is too great!” Krasus hissed, joining the druid. “We must create a gap between us and them!”
“But how?” asked Malfurion.
The slim mage’s expression grew darker yet. “We must cease trying to fight the Eredar and concentrate only on keeping the main force of the demons from us!”
“But the warlocks will strike hard while we do that! They’ll slay countless soldiers—”
“And more will perish if we move at this snail’s pace!”
Krasus spoke the truth, however much the druid did not wish to hear it. The Fel Guard whittled away at the night elves left and right, constantly cutting at whatever foe lay within reach. The Eredar, on the other hand, needed time to cast their spells, and while those also did terrible damage, overall they now did less than the blades of their comrades.
“You must tell your brother to do as we do,” the mage instructed.
“He won’t listen to me. Not for that.” It had been trouble enough to make Illidan look up. To convince him to do as Krasus desired would take far too long, if it was even possible.
“I’ll do it,” Rhonin offered. “He may listen to me better.”
In truth, Illidan looked up to the human. Rhonin knew how to cast spells even Malfurion’s twin could not yet handle. Illidan almost saw him as a shan’do.
“Do what you can, then,” Krasus said to Rhonin.
As the fire-tressed wizard rode off, Malfurion asked, “What do we do?”
“Anything that separates them from us.”
The druid had hoped for more, but he understood that Krasus did not wish to overly guide him. They would work best if each did what they felt was most comfortable. The ways of the elder mage were not necessarily those of Malfurion.
Without waiting to see what the night elf would attempt, Krasus gestured toward the battle. At first Malfurion could not tell what he did, but then he noticed the foremost demons seem to shrink a foot or two. Only after a moment more did he see that they struggled with a sudden bog that had opened up beneath their feet. Those behind them clustered together, trying to battle through to the other side.
Rather than trying to attack again, the night elves wisely continued their retreat. But Krasus had only managed to aid one area of the battle; in others, Malfurion saw that the demons continued to cut down the defenders. He immediately reached down and spoke to the plants again, asking that they give of themselves their roots once more. They knew the dire developments and were aware that once the night elves left, they and all other life would be purged by the Legion. Nevertheless, they freely offered what they could.
Tears rolling down his eyes at this sacrifice, Malfurion carefully crafted his spell. The roots came up in even greater clusters than previously, becoming a veritable forest in reverse. The demons hacked away at the strong tendrils. Even the Infernals were finally slowed. The druid felt each cut into the roots, but his spell had the effect that he had intended. More and more, the night elves pulled away from their devious foe.
An unexpected reprieve came in the south in the form of night saber riders. Malfurion had forgotten about the force sent earlier by Ravencrest. Their numbers were smaller than he recalled, though they fought with no less fury. Several of the panthers had wounds already and more than one rider looked battered, but still they cut into the Burning Legion, buying precious seconds for those comrades on foot.
“The north!” Krasus shouted. “Focus on the north!”
Although they could not physically see the struggle in the north, both Malfurion and the mage had other methods by which to observe it. Reaching out, the druid sought birds or winged insects. He found none of the former, but still a few of the latter. Even the smallest fauna understood that to stay near the demons was to invite death. Yet the beetles he came across, already in the process of fleeing, agreed to be his eyes.
Through their peculiar field of vision, the druid soon viewed the other end of the struggle. What he saw made his heart sink. In even more vast numbers than he had ever seen them, the Burning Legion poured over the soldiers. The dead lay scattered everywhere. Faces too much like his own stared sightlessly in horror at what had slain them. Felbeasts tossed the dead around while other demons eagerly sought to add to the piles.
Malfurion looked for some creature or plant that he could use, but only the beetles seemed present. A breeze blew one of the insects about, finally giving the druid an idea. Speaking with the wind through the beetle, he first told it how much he admired its forceful gale, then convinced it to show him more.
The wind responded obligingly, creating a dust devil. With more urging by Malfurion, the dust devil grew larger and larger, soon dwarfing the huge demons. As it swelled in size, its intensity also increased a hundredfold.