The Sundering (33 page)

And as Archimonde clasped his fingers
…
the Legion’s terrifying commander vanished in a blaze of green flame.

Malfurion gasped. The druid went down on one knee, shaking his head.

“I’ve failed him
…”
Brox and the mage heard him mutter.
“
Failed my shan’do when I most shouldn’t have
…”

The orc and the Earthen looked to Krasus for some explanation. The robed figure pursed his lips for a moment, then, quietly explained,
“
The great Green Dragon, the Aspect called Ysera, is the mother of Cenarius, the forest lord.
”

Dungard, who had been puffing on his pipe, furrowed his brow, then said,
“
My people always thought it to be Elune who birthed the forest lord
…”

“The true tale is quite complicated,” replied Krasus.

Brox still said nothing, aware that there was more to come.

“His father…” the mage continued, “his father is the ancient woodland spirit, Malorne…”

After a moment, the orc finally asked,
“
And so?
”

“Malorne…also called the White Stag.”

Dungard almost dropped his pipe. A sharp intake of breath marked Brox’s sudden understanding. He looked out to where the huge, torn body of the beast lay sprawled ignominiously among the other dead. The father had come to save the son at cost of his own life, something any orc easily understood.

“I failed him…” Malfurion repeated, forcing himself up. He glanced at Krasus. “From you, I learned that Ysera was my shan’do’s mother—which was surprise enough—but I already knew the truth concerning Malorne. Cenarius made it known to me during my studies that he was seed of the White Stag
…”
The night elf clenched his fist.
“
And when I saw what Archimonde had done to the father of he who’s been like a parent to me, I wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of the fiend.
”

Krasus put a comforting hand on the druid’s shoulder.
“
Have heart, young one. You have briefly driven Archimonde from the battle, no light thing
…”
The mage’s eyes narrowed as he glanced past his companion to the field of carnage.
“
It at least buys us time
…”

Malfurion shook himself from his sorrow.
“
We’re losing, aren’t we?
”

“I fear so. With all we throw against them, the demons still prove too strong. I had been certain—had thought—” Krasus spat. “I dared turn Time on its head, did everything despite my own warnings…and the results are nothing but calamity after calamity!”

“I don’t understand
…”

“You need understand only this—unless the dragons come and come soon, we shall fall, if not by the blades of the Burning Legion, than by a darker, more ancient evil that manipulates even the dread Sargeras! You know of that which I speak! You felt their awful presence! You know what they would wish of this world! They—”

A howl erupted from Krasus.

“What—” began the druid.

Krasus bent low to the ground. The others watched in horror as his limbs began to turn to stone.

“Eredar!” shouted Malfurion. He felt his own limbs begin to contort in what he knew presaged the same dire fate as that striking the mage. “Brox! Seek out Rhonin—”

But the orc was in no better state than the night elf. Wounded though Archimonde had to be, it was clear to all that he had orchestrated this insidious spell that struck only them. Sargeras’s lieutenant knew well that to slay Krasus and his band would be to put an end to the last major hurdle preventing the Burning Legion’s victory. Even Jarod lay stricken.

Then, just as each felt the growing stone constrict their lungs and force out their last breath, they heard in their minds a feminine voice that both comforted and steeled them. Fear not, it said, and breathe easy
…

As one, Krasus, Malfurion, Brox, and Jarod gratefully inhaled. At the same time, they noticed the rising of the wind and the tremendous shadow passing overhead.

“She has come!” roared Krasus, lifting his hands to the heavens. “They have come!
”

The sky filled with dragons.

They were red, green, and bronze, the flights of Alexstrasza, Ysera, and the absent Nozdormu. The two Aspects dominated the array, their tremendous wings alone spanning distances several times that of the dragons next nearest in size.

As one, the leviathans dove down toward the demons, who were still focused on their earthbound foes.

“Jarod!” called Krasus, spinning on the host’s commander.
“
Get those horns roaring so loud and so long that there will be no mistaking their intent! The day can still be ours!
”

Jarod seized the nearest night saber and rode off. As he vanished in the distance, the dragons began their attack in earnest.

A line of crimson giants opened their mighty maws and unleashed an inferno. Fire swept over the Legion’s front lines, several hundred demons burnt to ash in the blink of an eye.

Bronze dragons swept over the demon ranks
…
and as they passed, the monstrous warriors moved in reverse. Yet, while Time had turned about for them, it had not for those behind. Chaos ensued as a collision of titanic proportions created utter mayhem among Archimonde’s fighters.

One of the bronzes fell—twisted beyond recognition—as the Eredar and Nathrezim sought to hold back this imposing attack. But their spells faltered and their focus turned on one another as the flight of Ysera hovered above. The closed, dreaming eyes of the green dragons put nightmares into the minds of the susceptible spellcasters. Warlocks looked at one another and saw only the enemy about them.

They reacted accordingly. Eredar slew Eredar and Nathrezim gladly joined in the slaughter. Trapped in the dark daydreams created by the greens, the demons were merciless against their own kind and even Archimonde could not rouse them from their lethal mistake.

Back behind the mayhem, Alexstrasza descended to where Krasus and the others awaited her. Ysera began to do the same—but then, to the astonishment of those who knew of her, the Aspect’s eyes opened wide at the horrific sight that lay in the midst of the battlefield. Beautiful, glistening, jade orbs drank in the vision of the white, antlered corpse.

Malorne’s corpse.

The dragon let out a wail—not a roar, but a very pitiful wail—and flew to where the giant stag lay. The demons still in the area fell victim to her immediate outrage. Ysera snapped up several, crushed others, and sent the rest flying with a slap of one massive wing.

When there was no one else upon which to vent her sorrows, She of the Dreaming descended next to the stag and rested her chin upon his broken head. Her body shook from what could only be sobs.

“We had known we would be late…” Alexstrasza managed, eyeing her counterpart with much understanding. “But not so late as this…”

“Cenarius still lives,” Krasus pointed out. “She must be made aware of that.”

With a nod, the Aspect of Life momentarily shut her eyes. A moment later, Ysera lifted her head and looked their way. The two giants gazed at one another, then Ysera fluttered up from Malorne’s body.

The others stepped back as she landed next to the unconscious Cenarius. With remarkable delicacy, Ysera took the prone forest lord into her forepaws.

“They will suffer such nightmares that whatever they have for hearts will explode…” she grated. “I will bring upon them demons of their own, who will drive them mad until all they can think about is death…but I will not permit them to wake long enough to achieve it…”

She would have gone on—and also made good her promise—but Krasus dared interrupt.
“
Render onto the Legion what fate it deserves, She of the Dreaming, but recall that the fate of Kalimdor—that which Malorne and Cenarius fought well for—still hangs in the balance! Sargeras seeks entrance into the mortal plane
…
and the Old Gods seek to manipulate the demon lord for their own escape!
”

“And well aware we are of this,” Alexstrasza interjected before a still-distraught Ysera could snap back at the mage. “What is it that must be done?”

“The struggle must go on here, but it also must come to Zin-Azshari…and the Well. It will take both dragon and mortal, for there are many elements to confront there.”

“Tell us what you plan.” Ysera almost objected to her sister’s acquiescence, but Alexstrasza would brook no delay from even her.
“
You know him! You have but to see within him to understand that he must be listened to!
”

The emerald dragon finally bowed her head.
“
So long as the demons suffer.
”

“We will all suffer,
”
the cowled mage went on.
“
If we do not stop the portal from reaching full bloom
…”
Krasus faced the direction of far-off Zin-Azshari.
“
A thing that cannot be too far-off, if what I sense means anything
…”

Sargeras felt Archimonde’s hidden dismay. The demon lord was disappointed with his most trusted servant—who had never failed before—but there would be time to punish Archimonde later. The portal was nearly finished. Sargeras wondered why it had taken so long for him to consider this plan. It had all proven so simple.

Still, in the long run, such things did not matter. All that did was that soon he would step into Kalimdor and when that happened, not all the dragons in that world would be able to save it from him
…

They felt the nearness of their freedom quickly approaching. How ironic that it would be one who had once been one of the hated Titans who would prove the instrument of their release! It had taken the combined might of many Titans to even force them into captivity; after their triumphant return, there would be little effort needed to eradicate this single, arrogant creature and turn his warriors to serving their cause.

The portal strengthened. The time when to usurp it fast approached. Most amusing, the pathetic little beings who fought the fallen Titan’s warriors thought that they could take back the disk. Even now, the imprisoned entities could sense the dragons—the Titans’ hounds—approaching the Well.

They would be in for a very fatal surprise.

A
storm raged over the Well, one that from even such a far distance Malfurion could detect all too easily. It was no normal storm, not even in the sense of those that frequented the mystical waters. This one touched upon powers that were not a part of the mortal plane, powers all too akin to those unleashed by the Burning Legion.

The Burning Legion
…
and something more.

The druid did not quite understand just who or what the Three were even after having been touched by their ancient evil. In truth, Malfurion did not want to know more. What had insinuated itself into his mind during the quest into Deathwing’s lair had been enough to make him determined that such beings could never be allowed to enter Kalimdor
…
if that was any more possible to achieve than stopping the entrance of the lord of the Legion.

He glanced up and around him at the hope of his world. A dozen dragons, Alexstrasza and Ysera at their head. Another female who represented the bronzes followed close behind. Three others of each flight flew in their wake, all of them consorts of one of the Aspects, including this Nozdormu spoken of earlier by Krasus.

The mage himself rode astride the giant red’s shoulders, seeming to drink in the wind as they sailed. Knowing him for what he was, Malfurion suspected that Krasus tried to imagine himself as one of the dozen leviathans, his own wings sending him coursing through the heavens.

Brox rode the bronze leader and Rhonin one of Alexstrasza’s mates. The red Aspect’s senior consort—Tyranastrasz—oversaw the dragon efforts against Archimonde, but the rest were with her, save the stricken Korialstrasz. As for Malfurion, the night elf had the honor to have as his mount Ysera. She had, in fact, insisted upon his being the one she carried.

“You are his pride,” she had told the druid, speaking of Cenarius, “and for what you sought to do for him and Malorne, I owe you this…”

Unable to articulate any worthy reply, Malfurion had simply bowed before her, then climbed up near her shoulders.

And off they had flown, as simple as all that, to face the terrible might of the demon lord and those manipulating him.

As simple as that
…
all knowing that they might very well perish.