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Authors: Richard A. Knaak

The Sundering (47 page)

BOOK: The Sundering
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“No…”

One of the nobles hesitated.

By Elune! What sort of eyes does he have that glow beneath that veil?

Illidan glared at the Highborne.

Their leader raised a hand in defense.

Look out—”

Flames erupted around the other sorcerers. They screamed.

Jarod and the nobles charged him. Illidan sneered at the paltry threat and gestured.

The ground beneath them exploded. Jarod was tossed back. The lead noble, Blackforest flew high in the air, finally striking a tree with a resounding crack.

“You stupid fools! You—”

His feet suddenly sank into the earth. As he looked down, tree branches wrapped around his body, pinning his legs together and his arms to his torso. Illidan tried to speak, but his mouth filled with leaves that adhered to his tongue. The sorcerer could not even concentrate, for a buzzing echoed in his ears, as if a thousand tiny insects nestled in them.

Gasping, Illidan slumped to his knees. Through the buzzing, he vaguely sensed someone else approaching. The sorcerer knew without a doubt who it had to be

“Oh, Illidan…” Malfurion’s voice cut perfectly through the buzzing.

Illidan

why?

 

The druid stared at the lake, its blazing blue color a clear sign of its contamination. No one could drink from it now. Like the Well of Eternity before it, it was now a fount of power, not life.

“Oh, Illidan…” he repeated, eyeing his bound twin.

“Dath’Remar is still alive,

reported Tyrande, kneeling beside the Highborne leader.

One more also, but the others are dead.

She shuddered.

They were burned in their skins
…”

Malfurion had intended to come alone, only the dragons and Krasus with him, but, like the druid, Tyrande had somehow sensed that Illidan was up to something. With several of her priestesses in tow, she had ridden after the dragons, but had arrived too late.

As had Malfurion.

“Lord Blackforest is dead. The others, I think can be saved,” announced another priestess.

“My…brother lives,

managed Maiev. She and Shandris both attended to an unconscious Jarod. He had bruises all over his face and his armor was even more battered now. Dried blood caked several wounds already healing thanks to the prayers of the priestesses.

Jarod’s sister rose and her countenance was one terrible to behold. She started for Illidan, at the same time drawing her weapon.

“No, Maiev!” Tyrande commanded.

“He almost slew my brother!”

The high priestess met her.

But failed. His fate is not yours to decide. Jarod will do so.

She glanced at Malfurion.

Is that not so?

He nodded sadly.

It’s his right and I’ll not argue it.

The druid shook his head.

So, this is why he stayed so near the shore of the Well.

“I didn’t know that he had gathered more,

Tyrande added apologetically.

With a sudden hunch, Malfurion knelt near his brother. Illidan’s breathing was even, but he stiffened when he sensed Malfurion near. The druid searched the pouch.

“At least four more vials…he would have turned this lake completely into another Well.”

“Can anything be done to change it back?”

Krasus had remained in the background, watching the events unfold. Now, however, the cowled mage muttered,

No

nothing. What has been done cannot be undone.

Alexstrasza, however, added,

We can do something to make of it a different force. One not as treacherous in nature as the Well became.

The mage’s eyes momentarily widened.

Ah! Of course!

Malfurion forced himself from his brother’s side.

And what’s that?

The three dragons glanced at one another, each nodding agreement. Alexstrasza turned back to the night elves.

We are going to plant a tree.

“A tree?” The druid looked to Krasus for some sort of clarification.

But the mage, his own expression guarded, simply answered,

Not a tree. The tree.

 

They quickly turned it into a ceremony so as to lessen the impact of Illidan’s misdeeds. The sorcerer was hidden away in order to prevent further trouble and Jarod’s sister volunteered to guard him until a final fate could be decided. Jarod, healed by Shandris and Maiev, insisted that, when that time came, it would not be only his choice, but Malfurion’s.

Other than Krasus, Rhonin, and the dragons, there were only night elves at the gathering. What the Aspects intended was for their race, which had suffered so much and feared for its continuance. Nobles, Highborne, and representatives of what had once been the lower castes assembled. The rest of the survivors gathered as they could down below, unable to see the spectacle but aware that it would influence the course of their lives.

Malfurion and the rest who had been invited journeyed to the island at the center of the lake. Despite Hyjal’s tremendous height, the top of the peak was fairly warm, perhaps even more so now that the lake had become touched by magic.

“It’s beautiful,

Tyrande whispered.

“Would that it was only that,” Malfurion replied morosely. Illidan continued to be in his thoughts. He already had some suggestions as to what to do about his twin and it pained the druid to imagine them being put into action. Yet, Illidan clearly could not longer be trusted. He had slain others out of madness. His notion that the night elves needed a new Well in order to protect themselves against some possible future attack by the Burning Legion was not sufficient reason for his heinous crimes.

Although still creatures of the dark despite having been forced to adapt to daylight battles, Jarod had agreed with the dragons to assemble at noontime. Alexstrasza explained that the sun’s zenith would be essential to what they planned and the night elf was not about to argue with the giants.

Despite the island’s reasonable size, only tall grass covered it. At its center, the group positioned itself as requested by Alexstrasza. The dragons took up a prime location near what they said was the exact middle, leaving a small place open between them.

The Aspect of Life began the ceremony.

Kalimdor has suffered greatly,

she rumbled. As those in the group nodded, Alexstrasza continued,

And the night elves most of all. Your race was not completely innocent in all of this, but the trials and tribulations through which you have passed forgive that.

There were a few uneasy glances toward the Highborne, but no one argued.

The red dragon lowered her palm. In it, nestled like an infant, a single seed similar in appearance to an acorn rested. Malfurion felt a tingle as he stared at it.

“Taken from G’Hanir, the Mother Tree,

she explained. The druid recognized the home of the dead demigoddess, Aviana.

“G’Hanir is no more, having perished with its mistress, but this seed survives. From it, we shall raise a new tree.

Nozdormu dropped one paw to the ground and, with a single swipe, created a hole perfect for planting the seed, Alexstrasza gently placed the seed in it, then Ysera pushed the dirt over the hole.

The Aspect of Life gazed up at the sun. Then, she and the other two dragons bent their heads low over the buried seed.

“I give Strength and Healthy Life to the night elves, for so long as the tree stands,” Alexstrasza proclaimed.

From her, a soft, red glow flowed to the mound. At the same time, the sunlight over the mound intensified, spreading all the way across the lake in every direction. Some of the night elves stirred, but all remained silent.

A wonderful warmth spread over Malfurion and he instinctively took Tyrande’s hand. She did not pull away, but rather tightened her grip.

And from the mound, there came movement. As if a tiny creature burrowed to the surface, the dirt pushed up and away.

From the seed had sprouted a tiny sapling.

It rose until a yard high, small branches sprouting. Lush, green leaves burst from the branches, creating a delicate canopy.

As Alexstrasza pulled back slightly, Nozdormu spoke, a slight hiss in his voice.

Time will be on the night elvesss’ side once again, for I grant them continued Immortality, forever a chance to learn, for asss long asss the tree stands
…”

From him issued forth a golden bronze aura that joined with the sunlight as the red had. Flowing through the sapling, it sank into the mound.

The tree grew again. As the onlookers gaped, it rose to more than twice the height of a night elf. Its foliage grew dense, green, and full of promise. Branches thickened, showing the health and strength of the tree. The roots began to come up above ground like many legs. A space almost large enough for several seated night elves formed underneath.

Nozdormu nodded, then, like his counterpart, withdrew. There remained only Ysera.

Eyes lidded, the green leviathan studied the tree. Despite its swift growth, it was still dwarfed by the dragons.

“To the night elves, who have lost their hopes, I give forth the ability to Dream again. To Dream, to Imagine, for in that is the best hope of rebuilding, of recovering, of growing…” She looked ready to do as the other Aspects had, then paused. Her head swung toward Malfurion. “And to those who follow the path of one held special by me—and mine—I grant him and the other druids to come the path into the Emerald Dream, where, even in their deepest sleep, they may cross the world, learn from it, and draw upon its own strength

the better to guide Kalimdor’s health and safety throughout the future.

Malfurion swallowed, unable to otherwise respond. He felt the eyes of everyone upon him, but, most of all, felt Tyrande’s proud touch.

Ysera looked again to the tree

and from her issued a green mist. Like the two before, her offering bound with the sunlight, then settled over the tree.

As the last of it vanished into the soil, the assembled onlookers felt the ground shake. Malfurion led Tyrande back a few steps and, as if this was a cue, the rest followed suit. Even the dragons moved back, albeit not near as much as the tinier creatures.

And the tree grew. It grew twice its previous height, then twice that. It rose higher and higher into the heavens, until the druid felt certain that even those well below the peak could at least see the huge, burgeoning canopy. So massive was the canopy that the entire region should have been bathed in shadow, but somehow the sunlight continued to focus on the area, even the lake.

The roots also expanded, stretching taller and bending to best support the gigantic tree. They spread so high that now it seemed all of Lord Ravencrest’s lost Black Rook Hold could have fit underneath

and still the roots—the entire tree—grew.

When at last it ceased, even the dragons looked like no more than birds who could perch upon one of the branches and hide in the foliage.

“Here stands before you Nordrassil. The World Tree is brought into existence!

intoned the Aspect of Life.

For as long as it stands, for as long as it is honored, the night elves will thrive! You may alter, you may follow different paths, but you will ever be an integral part of Kalimdor
…”

Krasus suddenly stood behind Malfurion. In a whisper to the druid, he added,

And the tree, whose roots go deep, will keep this lake as it is. The sun will always be a part of this well. The black waters will not run here.

Malfurion took this in with much relief. He glanced down at Tyrande, who met his gaze with an expression that left his cheeks darkening. Before Malfurion realized what was happening, she kissed him.

“Whatever this long future our people have been promised holds,” his childhood friend murmured. “I wish to see it with you.”

He felt more blood rush to his cheeks.

As I do with you, Tyrande.

BOOK: The Sundering
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