The Sundering (29 page)

Alexstrasza?

The gray dragon landed among the demons, crushing several underneath. With one wing, it swept aside a dozen more. The giant let out a roar and seized a mouthful of the enemy, crushing them between its jaws before letting their bodies drop.

Only then did Rhonin see that the dragon had no gullet.

It was literally made of stone.

With ruthless abandon, the great golem tore through the Legion. Seeing what it alone could do, the wizard again wished for the true dragons to return.

Then, it occurred to him to wonder just what had brought this false Alexstrasza to the host’s aid.

“Krasus?” he blurted, turning around. “Krasus?”

And there, just coming up over a ridge, strode the tall, pale form he knew so well. Beside Krasus walked Malfurion and Brox, both clearly weary, but intact.

Cautiously breaking off from the battle, Rhonin ran to meet the others. He almost hugged them, so grateful was he to see such familiar faces.

“Praise be, that you’re all alive!
”
He grinned.
“
The Demon Soul! You’ve got it!
”

No sooner had he spoken then Rhonin saw that he was wrong. He looked from one to the other, trying to read the story from their eyes alone.

“We had it,” Krasus replied. “But it was stolen by agents of the Legion…”

“Including my brother,” added Malfurion, shaking his head at Krasus, who had clearly wanted to avoid telling Rhonin that part. “It’s no use to hide that! Illidan’s thrown his lot in with the palace!
”
The druid shook from frustration.
“
The palace!
”

“But…that dragon! What does that mean…and where’s Korialstrasz? You said in your message that you’d met up with him!
”

“There is no time for that! We must prepare!”

“Prepare for what?”

Brox suddenly pointed his ax past the others.
“
Look! The stone one!
”

They followed his gaze to see the animated effigy of Alexstrasza aswarm with demons. They chopped at it—her—much the way the Earthen had earlier the one Infernal. Others attacked her legs with blades, chipping away as best they could at the false dragon’s foundation.

The wizard could scarce believe what was happening.
“
Why doesn’t she fly away?
”

“Because the time of her enchantment is almost at an end,” Krasus remarked with clear sadness.

“I don’t understand
…”

“Look. It happens already.”

The golem’s movements grew sluggish, this despite the fact that the damage done to the body had to be superficial at worst. The stone dragon managed to shake her wings free of several of the demons, sending them flying far into the sky. However, that effort proved her last major one.

“What’s happening, Krasus?
”

“She was meant to bring us here at the desire of the one of whom she is only a shadow. But shadows fade, Rhonin, and her task is done. We can give thanks that enough remained for her to do such damage as we have witnessed.”

Despite the clinical tone of his words, the mage’s eyes gave indication of a regret far deeper. Rhonin understood. To Krasus, even seeing this effigy of his beloved queen and mate suffer was a strain.

The false dragon roared mournfully. Demons now practically covered the entire body save the head. The left legs defiantly straightened, but from the right ones there was no movement.

“It’s over—” Krasus began.

Then, without warning, the false Alexstrasza leaned into her right. Her wing on that side folded in and her left rose into the sky.

Midway up, all animation ceased. The eyes of the golem grew lifeless.

And under the stress of so much weight, the right wing collapsed. The demons atop the statue clung helplessly as the dragon queen’s creation tipped over
…
and crushed every demon still hanging onto the back.

Krasus’s chest swelled with pride.
“
Every inch worthy of my queen, even if only her shadow!
”

Dust rose from where the gargantuan statue lay. Even as they watched, the legs and the left wing joined the right in collapsing. Demon warriors scattered as huge chunks of rock fell among them.

“What now, though?” demanded the human. His hopes had grown with the arrival of his companions, but if they had neither the disk nor this magical construct as reward for their efforts, then their entire journey had been for nought.

He was not encouraged by Krasus’s next words.
“
What now, young Rhonin? We fight as we have fought and we wait. We wait for my good queen to rally my kind and bring them to the fight. The Demon Soul is going where it will be, for a time, no threat to them. They will have to act.
”

“And if they don’t? If they hesitate too long, as before?
”

His former mentor leaned close so that only the wizard would hear.
“
Then Sargeras will have at last the means by which to enter Kalimdor
…
and once he has entered our world, the demon lord will unwrite the history of ten thousand years.
”

T
he storm raged over the Well of Eternity, the black waters whipping into a frenzy. Waves higher than the palace crashed on the shore. A howling wind tossed any loose debris through the air like deadly missiles.

Lightning illuminated the coming of the party from the towered edifice. Even the queen herself—accompanied by her handmaidens, of course—had journeyed with, although she was borne on a silver litter carried by Fel Guard.

Mannoroth led the way, followed by Illidan and Captain Varo’then. A number of Highborne sorcerers and satyrs—the two groups purposely separate from one another—followed in their wake and, behind them, came a contingent of the palace guard. At the end of the grand procession marched twin ranks of demon warriors a hundred strong each.

Mannoroth stood at the edge of the Well, stretching forth his brutish arms and drinking in the chaos beyond. Through the
“
gift
”
granted him by Sargeras, Illidan marveled at the forces in play above and within the vast body of water. Nothing he had experienced so far, not even the power of the demon lord, compared to that which the sacred Well contained.

“Truly, we never tapped more than a shadow of its greatness,” he murmured to the captain.

Varo’then, blind to such glory, merely shrugged.
“
It’ll now serve us well by bringing to us our Lord Sargeras.
”

“But not immediately,” the sorcerer reminded him. “Not immediately.”

“What does that matter?”

They grew silent as the winged demon turned. He reached out to the officer, grating,
“
The disk! It’s time!
”

Expression masked, Varo’then removed the Soul from his belt pouch and handed it over. Mannoroth momentarily eyed the dragon’s creation with open avarice, then likely thought better of trying to keep it for himself. Glaring at the Highborne and the satyrs, the tusked demon snapped,
“
Take your places!
”

The spellcasters wended their way over fragments of homes and broken bits of bone. The carnage that had taken much of Zin-Azshari had spread even to the very edge of the Well. Illidan learned that a few defiant night elves had tried to make a stand here on the shore, hoping that their nearness would enable them to draw better from the source of their people’s magic. That hope had not panned out and the demons had gleefully torn them apart on this very spot.

The irony was, at least to Malfurion’s twin, that they had been correct in their assumption, if not the execution of their plan. He could see the myriad ways in which to manipulate the Well’s immense potential and understood more than ever what the lord of the Legion intended.

The sorcerers and satyrs formed the pattern dictated by Sargeras. Mannoroth studied their positions carefully, threatening into their proper places those who had erred. When at last the scaled behemoth was satisfied, he stepped back from the group.

“Do I understand we won’t see our Lord Sargeras just yet, dear captain?
”
Azshara languidly asked from her litter.

“Not at this time, no, Light of Lights…but it shall not be much longer. Once he has the way stabilized, he will step through.”

Eyes veiled, she nodded.
“
I trust I will be notified of his arrival, then.
”

“What can be done will be done,” Varo’then promised.

Illidan wondered if the queen truly believed that she would become the consort of the demon lord. He doubted very much such a notion fit into Sargeras’s designs.

But thought of Azshara’s desires faded quickly as he watched the spellcasters begin. A crackling ball of blue lightning formed within their pattern. Now and then, a tiny bolt would dart toward one figure or another, but although the Highborne or satyr in question started slightly, they never faltered in their task.

Muttering filled the air, each voice speaking minutely different words of power. The combination of their distinctive incantations began to summon forth energy from the Well. Illidan watched as those energies, as individual as their summoners, coalesced around the sphere. With each addition, the bolts cast off by it grew brighter, stronger
…

Then, within the sphere
…
the all-too familiar gap appeared.

The spellcasters had reopened the portal to the Legion’s nether realm close to the Well of Eternity so that Sargeras could better draw upon the latter. Illidan sensed the sudden nearness of the demon lord’s presence.

Let it be cast out
…
the voice in all their heads commanded.

“Do it!” reinforced Mannoroth, looming over the night elves and satyrs.

As one, those making up the pattern ceased their muttering and clenched their fists.

The sphere—and the portal within—soared out over the storm-tossed waters, quickly vanishing from sight.

Now
…
the disk
…

Illidan’s heart leapt. He wanted to grab the dragon’s creation from Mannoroth, but common sense kept his countenance still and his hand by his side. There would be no taking the Dragon Soul—or Demon Soul, as he had heard his brother call it—at this time.

But at another opportunity, however
…

As before, Illidan immediately buried such thoughts. Fortunately, even Sargeras was likely far too intent on the events at hand to pay any attention to the sorcerer’s duplicitous intentions, even had Illidan’s mind been unshielded.

He watched intently as Mannoroth held the disk high. The winged demon muttered words lost in the wind.

Green fire surrounded the golden piece. The Demon Soul—yes, that name was far more appropriate, Malfurion’s brother decided—rose above Mannoroth’s palm
…
and then, like the sphere containing the portal, flew out over the churning waters of the Well.

“Is that all?
”
Azshara asked somewhat petulantly.

Before the erstwhile Captain Varo’then could soothe her, the wind abruptly died. The storm, too, appeared to pause, although the dark, menacing clouds continued to twist and turn like a thousand serpents coiling around one another.

Illidan it was who sensed first what was coming.
“
I’d recommend that your highness have her bearers retreat up to the top of the ridge down which we earlier came.
”

To prove that he meant what he said, the sorcerer turned and started back. The captain glared at him, as if suspecting some ruse, then ordered his own soldiers to do the same.

With a graceful wave of her hand, the queen had her Fel Guard follow suit.

A sound like the roar of a thousand night sabers issued forth from somewhere near the center of the Well. Illidan glanced over his shoulder at the black waters, his pace doubling.

The sorcerer and satyrs finally fled, their task no longer demanding that they stay so near the shoreline. Only Mannoroth remained, the demon again stretching forth his arms as if to embrace a lover.

“It begins!” he roared almost merrily. “It begins!”

And a wave as large as any dragon swept over the area where the demon stood.