The Demon Soul (warcraft)

by Richard A. Knaak

  The army shifted almost instantly. The night elves moved with eagerness, ready not only to save their kin, but to taste the first victory in their grand march to the capital.

  Illidan and the Moon Guard shifted position, taking up areas along the width of the host. The Sisters of Elune did likewise, their groups poised to aid in whatever way necessary, be it healing or war. As the only outsiders, Rhonin, Krasus, and Brox remained together, although the two wizards had already agreed that Rhonin would watch Illidan once the battle began. Neither still trusted him to be cautious.

  Malfurion stayed with them, in great part because Ravencrest was still uncertain over how best to use his unusual abilities. With Captain Shadowsong’s unit guarding the four, the noble felt satisfied that the druid would be protected well enough for him to decide on his own what attacks would work against the demons.

  Between having studied with Cenarius all day and riding most of the night with the prospect of battle imminent, Malfurion felt his exhaustion growing. The demigod had taught him how to better draw strength from the natural world and Malfurion hoped that he would be given the opportunity to do so before the night elves met the Burning Legion.

  The sun rose over the horizon, vanishing quickly into a thick, low cloud cover that actually benefited the host. The spells that Krasus and Rhonin had used on both them and Brox enabled their vision to immediately adjust to the changing light, but the soldiers for the most part had let their eyes grow accustomed in the normal fashion. The cloud cover gave the nocturnal race some relief, further stirring their enthusiasm for the coming conflict.

  The scouts continued to ride in and out gathering information. The demons had not yet caught up to the fleeing night elves, but they were close. Encouraged, Ravencrest urged his warriors on. Sending forth a large contingent of night saber riders, he planned to come at the Burning Legion from two sides.

  When word came that the host had begun to cut between the refugees and their pursuers, the noble had the horns sounded. The signal set the soldiers into battle readiness.

  And at last, as they flowed over a series of low hills, the night elves came upon the foe.

  The fiery demons had laid waste to every inch of the land, leaving all scorched. No life existed behind them. The dead lands that Krasus witnessed while astride Korialstrasz spread to the horizon and the horror of it steeled the defenders more.

  “It’s as the scouts have reported,” the master of Black Rook Hold muttered, drawing his sword. “All the better. Now we show them the folly of ravaging our fair land.”

  Krasus studied the horde. Still a great enemy, but nothing the night elves could not destroy readily. “My lord, caution is still suggested…”

  But Ravencrest did not hear him. The elder night elf twice waved his sword back and forth, and every horn in the host blared at once.

  With a single shout, the night elves descended upon the demons.

  The Burning Legion did not falter at the sight of the superior force. Rather, the armored demons roared lustily, eager to add to the carnage that they had already wreaked upon Kalimdor. The refugees forgotten, they surged toward the night elves.

  A set of two high notes was followed almost instantly by a wave of arrows that filled the sky. Like shrieking banshees, the bolts dropped among the monstrous warriors, piercing throats, limbs, and heads. Dead and wounded demons toppled over everywhere, forcing others to slow to clamber over them.

  A bolt of golden lightning struck the center of the horde, tossing Fel Guard left and right. Gobbets of flesh and the ooze that was the demons’ blood rained down upon the survivors. Krasus looked to his left and saw Illidan laughing at the successful results of his first attack. The young sorcerer immediately directed several of the Moon Guard into a pattern akin to the one used during their first battle against the Burning Legion. Illidan planned to draw from his comrades and amplify their power through him.

  The dragon mage frowned. Such tactics tended to drain those providing the power more than the one who cast the spell. Should he not pay attention to the condition of his companions, Illidan threatened to weaken them to the point where they could not defend themselves if personally attacked by the Eredar.

  But concern for what Malfurion’s brother might cause because of his negligence gave way to concentrating on the enemy alone. For the first time, Krasus cast a spell without the aid of Korialstrasz’s presence. He did not know what to expect, but when he felt the power build up inside him, the elder conjurer smiled.

  A fearsome wind swept over the center of the demons’ front ranks. It threw the horned warriors together, even directed their weapons against one another. Mayhem arose among the enemy there.

  The chaos gave the night elves a perfect opportunity. As the first of the soldiers reached the demons, they quickly slaughtered those they faced. The Legion’s front lines could not maintain any organization. Fel Guard dropped by the scores as they sought in vain to regroup.

  Another flight of arrows decimated the ranks further back. Within minutes, a good quarter of the horde lay either dead or dying. Krasus should have felt more confident, but he still found the battle moving much too easily. The Burning Legion had never fallen with so little trouble.

  Not that he could discuss his uncertainty with the others. Brox had slipped in among the fighters and somehow gotten all the way to the front. Astride his night saber, he swung the huge ax around and around. Wherever the weapon’s blades cut, the orc left death. The head of a demon flew over Brox as the green-skinned warrior shouted his challenge to the enemy.

  As for Rhonin, he cast spells whose intensity made Krasus envious. Touching upon the green flames that were an inherent part of the demons, the red-haired wizard made them truly fiery and, in a sense, caused the demons to consume themselves. One after another they fell, quickly reducing to ash and a few bits of armor. Rhonin’s expression was among the grimmest that Krasus had seen among the defenders; the dragon mage had no doubt that his former pupil thought constantly of his wife and unborn children, whose future literally hung on victory in this war.

  Where was Malfurion? At first the lanky wizard could not spot the druid, but then he saw the young night elf at the rear of the host. Malfurion sat quietly atop his mount, his eyes closed in concentration. Krasus felt nothing at first, but then he noted a pressure in the earth, a pressure that moved toward the Burning Legion. With his magical senses, he followed its path, curious as to what would happen.

  And suddenly, beneath the first few rows of the horde, roots sprouted up. Tree roots, grass roots…any and every sort of root that one could imagine. Krasus realized that Malfurion had caused them to not only stretch forth from the untainted ground, but to grow as most could never possibly do under natural conditions.

  A horned warrior stumbled, then, with a startled roar, fell forward into the waiting blade of a night elf. A felbeast growled and snapped as its massive paws became entangled. Everywhere demons tripped, twisted, and battled just to keep standing. They made for easy prey and scores more perished because of the roots. However, none of the night elves, Krasus saw, had even the slightest difficulty with the tendrils. In fact, several times the roots cleared paths for the soldiers, further aiding their cause.

  With less than half of the demons still fighting, victory was surely at hand…and yet Krasus did not trust in the host’s success. He surveyed the entire scene, finding nothing to add credence to his concerns.

  Nothing, that is, save one lone winged demon flying up into the cloud cover. Krasus watched him ascend, then quickly tried to cast a spell.

  He caught the demon just before the creature would have vanished into the clouds. The mist itself wrapped around the Doomguard warrior like a shroud, sealing his wings to his tall, armored form. The demon struggled, but could do nothing. A moment later, he dropped like a deadly missile toward his own comrades.

  Krasus did not congratulate himself for his quick action. Urging his mount toward Lord Ravencrest, he sought the noble’s attenti
on. 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.

  Six

  Malfurion 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 onsla
ught.

  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.