The Well of Eternity (27 page)

Krasus frowned. “Perhaps Rhonin spoke too much…and likely has inferred more.”

Her companion’s reaction settled one matter for the novice priestess. Rising she turned to the captain. “I would like to take him with me to the temple. I believe he could be better cared for there.”

“Out of the question! If he escapes—”

“You have my promise that he will not. Besides, you yourself said that it was essential he be well. After all, if he must face Lord Ravencrest—”

The Guard officer frowned. Tyrande smiled at him.

“Very well…but I’ll have to escort you there myself.”

“Of course.”

She turned to help Krasus rise, Brox coming from the prisoner’s other side. As Tyrande held him close, she noticed Krasus hide a satisfied smile.

“Something pleases you?”

“For the first time since my inopportune arrival, yes. There is hope, after all.”

He did not clarify and she did not ask him to do so. With their aid, he left the Guard headquarters. Tyrande realized that Krasus played no game in one regard; he was seriously weak. Even still, she sensed the authority within him.

With Jarod Shadowsong behind them, they returned to the temple. Once again, it took only the appearance of the orc to create a path for them.

Tyrande feared that the guards and senior priestesses would be another problem, but, like her, they seemed to innately sense Krasus’s prominence. The elder priestesses actually bowed toward him, although she suspected that they did not quite understand why.

“Elune has chosen well,” Krasus remarked as they neared the living quarters. “But then, I knew that when I saw you.”

His comment made her face darken, but not because of any attraction. Rather, Tyrande felt as if she had been given a compliment by one at least as significant as the high priestess herself.

She intended to bring him to a separate chamber, but without thinking instead walked into the one where she had been keeping Malfurion. At the last moment, Tyrande tried to halt.

“Is there trouble?” asked Krasus.

“No…only that this room is being used for a stricken friend of mine—”

But before she could get any farther, the cowled figure struggled away from her, pushing toward Malfurion’s prone form.

“Chance, fate, or Nozdormu, indeed!” he spat. “What ails him? Quickly!”

“I—” How to explain?

“He walked the Emerald Dream,” Brox responded. “He’s not come back, elder.”

“Not come back…where did he seek to go?”

The orc told him. Tyrande had thought Krasus’s face pale enough, but now it literally whitened. “Of all the places…but it makes bitter sense. If I had only known before I left there!”

“You were in Zin-Azshari?” Tyrande gasped.

“I was in what
remained
of the city, but I came here in search of your very friend.” He studied the still body. “And if, as you say, he has been like this for the past few nights, I may be much, much too late…for
all
of us.”

A
night elf cried out, his breast plate and chest cut open by a demon blade. Another near him had no chance to utter a sound, a Fel Guard mace crushing in his skull.

Everywhere, the defenders were dying and nothing Rhonin had done so far had been sufficient to alter that horrific fact. Despite Lord Ravencrest’s determined figure at the forefront, the night elves were slowly being slaughtered. The Burning Legion gave them no respite, constantly pummeling the lines.

But even knowing he and the rest would die, the wizard fought on.

He had no other recourse.

The news of the defending army’s arrival had taken Lord Xavius by some surprise, but it had not made him any less confident of the final outcome. He saw how many of the great one’s celestial host flooded through the portal and felt certain that no army arrayed against them could possibly stand long. Soon, the unfit would be cleansed from his world.

Mannoroth led the Legion against the fools and Hakkar was on the hunt, leaving all in the counselor’s skilled hands. He peered briefly in the direction of a small alcove near the entrance, wherein he had stored his most recent prize. After news arrived that the defending forces had been decimated, Xavius would take the time to see to his “guest.” At the moment, he had far more important things to do.

He returned his attention to the portal, where yet another group of Fel Guard had materialized. They received their instructions from the towering Doomguard left by Mannoroth, then marched to join their bloodthirsty brethren. The scene had repeated itself some dozen times in just the past few minutes, the only difference being that each successive batch of arrivals was larger in number than the last. Now they almost took up the entire chamber.

As the latest troop of Fel Guard passed, Lord Xavius heard Sargeras’s glorious voice in his head.
The pace increases…I am pleased.

The night elf knelt. “I am honored.”

There is resistance already.

“Merely some of the unfit delaying the inevitable.”

The portal must be protected…it must not only remain open, but be strengthened more. Soon…very soon…I will come through…

The counselor’s heart leapt. The momentous event neared!

Rising, he said, “I shall see that everything is done to prepare the way for you! I swear it!”

He felt a wave of satisfaction…then Sargeras departed his thoughts.

Lord Xavius immediately turned to the array that kept the shield spell functioning. He had inspected it after the intruder’s attempt to destroy it and found it intact, but one could never take chances.

Yes, it was still in perfect order. Thinking of his “guest,” Xavius mulled over some of the things he would do when Sargeras finally stepped forth from the portal. Surely the queen would have to be there and, of course, an honor guard had to be arranged. Captain Varo’then would deal with the last matter. The counselor himself intended to be the first to greet the celestial one. As a proper gift, Xavius decided that he would hand over the crystal and its contents to Sargeras. After all, this was one of the three that Mannoroth had felt significant enough to send the Houndmaster after again. How foolish Hakkar would look when he came back to discover that the advisor had so easily captured one already.

Lord Xavius could hardly wait to present his prisoner to the great Sargeras. It would be especially interesting to see just what the god did with the young fool…

His nightmare continued.

Malfurion drifted within the crystal, staring out at what little he could see of the chamber. He had been placed in a small nook in the alcove, the crystal set on an angle. The alcove gave him a glimpse of the area near the doorway, which meant that the captive watched a constant stream of demonic warriors lumbering by, death clearly on their minds. That, in turn, twisted his heart further, for he knew that they went out to slay every night elf they could find…and all because Malfurion had failed to destroy the shield.

Although his surroundings did not give any indication of the passage of time, Malfurion felt certain that at least two nights had gone by since his capture. In his dream form, he did not sleep, and that made those two or more nights even longer.

How stupid he had been! Malfurion had heard the tales of Lord Xavius’s eyes, how people said they could even see the shadows of shadows, but he had taken those for fanciful stories. Little had he suspected that the same lenses that enabled the counselor to observe the natural forces of sorcery also let him take note of a spirit in his sanctum. How Lord Xavius had laughed!

Malfurion had tested his crystalline cage several times early on and found it too strong. Perhaps with more teaching the young night elf might have discovered some flaw, but that hardly mattered now. He had
failed.
He had failed himself, his friends, his race…his world.

Now, nothing but Lord Ravencrest’s defenders likely stood in the way of the demons.

He had to do
something.

Steeling himself, Malfurion once again tried to use what Cenarius had taught him. The crystal was a part of nature. It was susceptible to his spells. He ran his hands over the edges, seeking a weakness in the matrix that held it together. It was not quite a druidic spell he utilized, but close.

But still he found nothing.

Malfurion screamed out of frustration. Thousands would die because of his failure. Illidan would perish. Brox would perish. Tyrande—

Tyrande
would perish.

He could picture her face, visualize it better than any other. Malfurion imagined her concern for him. He knew that she likely sat near his body, trying to summon him back. The imprisoned night elf could almost hear her calling to him.

Malfurion…

The night elf shook. Surely, he had begun to lose his mind. It astounded Malfurion that the process had started so quickly, but then, his situation was a most terrible one.

Malfurion…can you hear me?

Again it felt as if Tyrande’s voice echoed in his thoughts. He peered out of his prison, trying to see if perhaps Lord Xavius had begun some sort of mental torture, but of the counselor Malfurion could see no sign.

With some trepidation, he finally thought,
Tyrande?

Malfurion! I’d scarcely hoped!

He could hardly believe it himself. True, she was a priestess of Elune, but still, such an act should have been beyond her.
Tyrande…how did you reach me?

Thanks to another…he’s been searching for you, he says.

The only ones that Malfurion could think of were Brox and Rhonin. Tyrande had met the orc, though, and while a courageous warrior, Brox lacked any magical skills. Could it be Rhonin? Even that made little sense, the wizard having supposedly ridden off with Lord Ravencrest.

Who?
he finally asked.
Who?

My name is Krasus.

The sudden switch unsettled Malfurion. The voice was like none he had ever felt, although in some ways it hinted of Cenarius’s. Whoever this Krasus was, he was not simply some night elf, but much, much more.

Do you sense us still?
asked the new voice.

I do…Krasus.

I have shown Tyrande how we can work through her bond to you to reach out to your dream self. The trick is difficult, but we hope to do it only long enough to free you.

Free me?
Glancing again at his prison, Malfurion doubted that it would be possible.

A cunning trap, yes,
Krasus went on, surprising the night elf. Apparently the link enabled them to see just where Lord Xavius had imprisoned him.
But I have dealt with its like before.

Now Malfurion’s spirits rose further.
What must be done?

Now that we have moved your body—

You’ve done what?
Moved his body? The risk to it—

I am quite familiar with the risks.
When Malfurion protested no more, Krasus continued,
It was necessary to bring it…closer to one of our party. Now you must listen, for we must do this quickly.

The night elf waited tensely. If they could release him from the crystal, he would do anything they said.

I must see the crystal, see every facet of its nature. You are a druid. This you can show me.

Acknowledging his understanding, Malfurion surveyed the entire interior of his magical cell. He looked at every corner, every facet, showing the crystal’s strengths and its possible weaknesses. Nothing he saw gave him any encouragement, but he suspected that Krasus knew far better than he what to look for.

There!
The disembodied voice made him pause before one edge. Malfurion had studied it earlier, noticing a slight fault to it, but had not been able to make any use of the spot.

It is the key to your escape. Touch it with your mind. See how the flaw works?

For the first time, he did. The fault was minute, but still distinct. How had he failed to see that earlier?

With experience comes wisdom, they say,
Krasus suddenly replied.
However, I am still working to prove that adage.

He ordered Malfurion to use the skills the forest lord had taught him to feel the entire width and breadth of the flaw, to understand its ultimate nature. To know it as well as he knew himself.

You should be able to note its most vulnerable place, its key, so to speak.

I don’t—
Yes! He did! Malfurion sensed the location. He pressed against it, eager to be free…but it would not give way.

You are strong, but not yet fully trained. Open your thoughts further to us. Let us in, no matter how many of us there are. We shall be your added strength and knowledge.

Clearing his mind as much as he could, Malfurion left himself open to Tyrande and the mysterious Krasus. He immediately felt the distinction between the two of them. Tyrande’s thoughts were caring but firm, Krasus’s wise but

frustrated. Curiously, the frustration had nothing to do with Malfurion’s situation.

Now…try again.

The imprisoned night elf pictured his dream form as a physical one. He literally pushed against the flaw as he would have any weak barrier. Surely, it would give if he pushed hard enough…

It suddenly felt as if the other two pushed with him. Malfurion could almost envision Tyrande and the other at his side, straining.

The flaw began to give. A minute crack developed…

A tiny, tiny gap appeared as the fault opened ever so slightly.

It is your doorway!
urged Krasus.
Go through it!

And Malfurion’s dream form
poured
through the slim opening.

He grew as he left the counselor’s cell, expanding until he stood his normal height. The change was simply a change in his own perspective, but he much preferred it to the insect-like position in which he had been while imprisoned.

Now…before you are noticed…return to us!

But here Malfurion disagreed. He had come this far to do what needed to be done to save his people, his world. The shield spell
had
to fall.

Malfurion!
Tyrande pleaded.
No!

Ignoring both, he floated around the corner…and stopped. Lord Xavius stood at the other end of the chamber, attention riveted on the dark portal through which the demons constantly arrived. Almost it seemed the counselor communed with whatever lurked deep within. Malfurion shuddered, recalling the inherent evil of that entity.

Still, the present situation worked in his favor. If Xavius would just keep staring into the vortex a few moments more, Malfurion could accomplish his task and be away.

He drifted toward the array, already aware of how to destroy it. A few simple alterations and it would be no more.

Both Tyrande and Krasus had ceased speaking, which either meant that they intended to let him see this through or…or the link with him had been somehow severed. Whichever the case, he could not turn back now.

With one last glance at the lord counselor, Malfurion reached in with his power. He first altered one of the interior components of the spell, guaranteeing its eventual instability regardless of what he did next.

It was the strength of the world, of nature, that Malfurion summoned now. He used it to force the array into a new combination, a new form that would negate its purpose and ultimately cause it to dissipate.

The shield spell faltered…

Lord Xavius instantly sensed the wrongness. Something terrible was happening to the shield spell.

Within the portal, Sargeras, too, sensed something amiss.

Seek!
he commanded his pawn.

The counselor spun about. His dark, magical eyes fixed on the precious array—and the ghostly intruder whom he had captured before.

The imbecile was meddling with the spell!

“Stop him!” roared Lord Xavius.

The shout nearly upset everything Malfurion had set into motion. He managed to regain his control, then looked to where Xavius pointed furiously at him, screaming for the Highborne or the demons to seize him. However, neither seemed able to obey that command, for, unlike the counselor, they could not see Malfurion’s dream form, much less touch it.

Lord Xavius, on the other hand, could do both.

When it became clear that the others were of no use to him, the queen’s advisor threw himself toward Malfurion. His artificial eyes radiated dark energy and Malfurion sensed an attack of some sort coming. Instinctively he raised his hand, asking aid of the wind and air.

Bolts of crimson lightning darted toward him and, had they actually reached the younger night elf, would surely have obliterated him. However, mere inches from Malfurion, the bolts not only struck some invisible barrier—solid air, perhaps—but were diverted back by the wind that the ghostly figure had summoned.