The Demon Soul (warcraft)

by Richard A. Knaak

  “What could you mean by that?”

  “I know you care for both of us, Tyrande, and we, in turn, feel much for you. One of us will be your intended, we all know that, but where once I was willing to stand aside and let you choose without influence, I can’t anymore!” He clutched her arm tightly. “I’ve got to protect you from Malfurion’s insanity! I say again that the Well of Eternity is the only true source of power that can save us! Even the priestesses of Elune cannot cast the spells that I do! Be mine, and I can protect you properly! Better yet, I can teach you as your temple never could, make you understand the might the Well can offer you! Together, we could be a force more formidable than all the Moon Guard combined, for we’d be one in spirit and body! We’d—”

  “Illidan!” she suddenly snapped. “Recall yourself!”

  He immediately released her, looking as if stabbed in the heart. “Tyrande—”

  “You shame yourself with your words concerning your brother, Illidan, and make assumptions with no basis in fact! Malfurion has done everything he could to save all our lives and the path he’s chosen is a valued one! He may be the true survival of our kind, Illidan! The Well’s becoming tainted! The demons draw from it in just the same manner as you. What does that say?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! You compare the demons with my work?”

  “Malfurion would—”

  “Malfurion!” he shouted, his countenance increasingly grim. “I see it now! What a bungler, what a buffoon I must seem to you!” He clenched his fist and raw energy flashed around it. “You’ve already chosen, Tyrande, even if you haven’t said so.”

  “I’ve done nothing of the sort!”

  “Malfurion…” Illidan repeated, teeth clenched tightly. “May the two of you be very happy…if we survive.”

  He spun around and headed to where the Moon Guard had stationed themselves. Tyrande watched him stride away. A tear fell unbidden from her eye.

  “Shaman?” came a voice from behind.

  The priestess jumped. “Broxigar?”

  The orc nodded solemnly. “He’s hurt you, shaman?”

  “N-no…just a misunderstanding.”

  Brox eyed Illidan’s receding backside. A low growl escaped the bestial warrior. “That one misunderstands much…and underestimates more.”

  “I’m all right. Did you wish something?”

  Shrugging, the orc answered, “Nothing.”

  “You came back because I was with Illidan, didn’t you?”

  “This unworthy one owes you much, shaman…and owes that one something more.”

  The priestess’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  Brox flexed his fingers, the same fingers that had been burned once by Illidan. “Is nothing, shaman. Is nothing.”

  “Thank you for coming to my aid, Broxigar. I’ll be all right…and so will Malfurion. I know it.”

  The orc grunted. “This humble one hopes so.”

  But his eyes continued to watch Illidan closely.

  Rhonin paused, watching the orc and the priestess talk. He understood perfectly why Brox had suddenly turned back to speak with Tyrande. Illidan’s affections for her had begun to border on obsession. The sorcerer had not seemed all that fearful for his brother’s life, and—from what the wizard could see—had been attempting to use Malfurion’s absence to further his own cause with Tyrande.

  But the triangle among the three night elves was the least of Rhonin’s concerns. He was more preoccupied with what he had learned of the attack in the forest. While Rhonin was relieved that both Krasus and the druid had survived, their victory had, without meaning to, unnerved the human more than anything else since his arrival here.

  They had battled Hakkar, the Houndmaster. Rhonin recalled that name with dread, for with his whip the foul demon could summon an endless pack of felbeasts, the scourge of any spellcaster. How many wizards from Dalaran had perished horribly because of the demon’s pets during the Legion’s second coming?

  Yes, Rhonin had good reason to despair even hearing the Houndmaster’s name, but he feared something else even more.

  He feared Hakkar’s death, here in the past.

  The Houndmaster had perished in the future. The demon had survived the war against the night elves.

  But not this time. This time, Hakkar had been slain…which now meant the future was certain to be different.

  Which now meant that this first war, despite the slaying of a most powerful demon, could definitely be lost.

  The hippogriffs soared over the landscape, cutting away the miles with each heavy beat of their vast wings. Though they could not fly as swiftly as a dragon, few other creatures could match them. The animals lived for flying, and Krasus felt their excitement as they raced each other over hills, rivers, and forest.

  Born to the sky, the dragon mage lifted his face to the wind, savoring the sensation now forbidden him because of his transformation. He smiled as an unbidden memory of his first flight with Alexstrasza returned to him. That day, he had only just become her consort, and the pair had finally begun the ritual before their initial mating.

  During that ritual, Krasus—or Korialstrasz in his true form—had circled the much larger female over and over, displaying for her his strength and agility. She, in turn, flew in a vast circle around the realm of dragons. The female had kept her speed constant, neither too fast nor too slow. Her new mate was supposed to show his prowess in all things, but he also had to have the energy needed afterward to breed with her.

  Korialstrasz had performed all manner of aerial maneuvers to impress his mate. He flew on his back. He darted between tightly-packed peaks. He even let himself drop toward one of the most jagged ones, missing impalement by a few bare yards. Reckless he had been at times, but that was part of the game, part of the ritual.

  “My Alexstrasza…” Krasus whispered to the wind as the memory faded away. It may have been that a tear briefly graced one eye or perhaps it was only a drop of moisture in the sky. Either way, the wind quickly carried it off and he concentrated again on the journey ahead.

  The landscape had just begun to turn more rocky and hilly. They had almost reached the midway point. Krasus was pleased but still impatient. Something was amiss and he had a fairly good idea as to the cause.

  Neltharion.

  The Earth Warder.

  Known in Krasus’s true time period as the monster Deathwing.

  Although he had lost much of his memory during his fall through history, there was no way by which Krasus could ever forget the black beast. In the future, Deathwing was evil itself, ever working to bring the world to ruin so that he might have dominion over the wreckage. Already Neltharion had crossed the threshold of madness, and Krasus had suffered for it. When last he had traveled to his home—brought there by his younger self—Krasus had run afoul of the Earth Warder’s paranoia. Fearing that the dragon mage would warn the others of his coming treachery—a reasonable assumption, in fact—the black leviathan had crafted a subtle spell that prevented his foe from speaking out about him. Most of the other dragons now thought Krasus half-mad himself because of that spell.

  The silence noted first by young Korialstrasz and now detected by his elder self as well could only mean that Neltharion had pressed on with his intentions. What exactly they were, Krasus could not yet recall and it pained him that of all things this should be lost. If there was one thing the mage would change in the past without fear of repercussions in the future, it would be the Earth Warder’s betrayal. That, more than anything, had been the final spiral down for the dragon race.

  Krasus suddenly realized that Malfurion was calling his name. Shaking his head, he looked to the druid.

  “Krasus! Are you ill?”

  “In a manner in which I can never be cured!” returned the elder spellcaster. He frowned at his own carelessness. Centuries of learning to keep his emotions masked had all vanished with his return to this turbulent time. Now Krasus had little more self-control than Rhonin or even the
orc.

  Nodding even though he did not understand, the druid looked away. Krasus continued to silently berate himself. He had to maintain control. It was essential if he hoped to keep everything from collapsing into chaos.

  Malfurion did not understand what the death of Hakkar meant, but how could he? He did not know that the Houndmaster had been among the demons who perished in the future. Rhonin would understand when he heard. The implications were staggering. Now Krasus had no idea what the future held.

  If there still was a future.

  On and on their journey continued. The hippogriffs descended once to satisfy their thirst at a river, and the duo took the opportunity to do the same. After sharing some rations, they mounted their beasts and took to the air again. The next time they landed, Krasus hoped it would be in the domain of his kind.

  The landscape grew more mountainous. Huge peaks jutted up to the heavens. In the distance, a pair of large black birds flew toward them from the opposite direction. The dragon mage became tense. Soon, very soon, he would be home.

  Krasus only prayed that he would find everything intact.

  Malfurion’s hippogriff squawked. The mage belatedly noticed that the two birds continued to fly toward them…and that they were much larger than he had first calculated.

  Too large, in fact, to be birds at all.

  He leaned forward, squinting.

  Dragons…black dragons.

  Krasus prodded his mount on one side, at the same time shouting to Malfurion, “To the southern edge of the mountain chain! Hurry!”

  The druid, too, now recognized the threat and obeyed. As the two hippogriffs veered away, the dragons did not adjust. Despite their keen eyesight, the behemoths had not yet noticed the smaller creatures.

  Aware that at any moment that might change, Krasus urged his beast to as swift a pace as it could set. Perhaps it was simply coincidence that these two giants were out here, but the mage suspected otherwise. Understanding Neltharion’s growing paranoia, Krasus believed it more likely that the Earth Warder had sent these two guardians out to watch for any intruders entering the dragon lands. Ironic that his madness would now prove him correct.

  The hippogriffs descended at a breathtaking rate, soaring toward the lower mountains. Once there, Krasus could relax; the blacks would surely fly right past them.

  Yet, one of the dragons glanced their way just when it seemed that they would evade notice. He roared, and his comrade twisted his sinewy neck around to see what had garnered the first’s attention. When he noted the two riders, he, too, bellowed his outrage.

  With the perfection of creatures born to fly, the dragons banked and raced after their prey.

  “What can we do?” called Malfurion.

  “Fly lower! We can skirt the mountains better than they! They must follow or risk losing us, and they will not wish to displease their lord!”

  It was as much as he could say about Neltharion without the Earth Warder’s spell taking hold. He thanked the Aspects that the druid had not tried to ply him with foolish questions such as why they were fleeing from dragons when dragons were what they had come to find. Malfurion clearly recognized Krasus’s knowledge in this circumstance and understood that if the mage wanted them to flee, they needed to flee.

  The larger of the two beasts—and, therefore, the older—began to push ahead of his companion. He roared again, and a burst of what at first seemed like flame shot from his savage maw.

  It came within only a few scant yards of the wizard, causing his mount to squawk loud and heating the air around the fleeing figures several degrees. The “flames” began falling earthward, revealing themselves to have actually been a column of molten lava, a breath spell inherent to the black flight.

  Before the dragon could send forth another shot, the hippogriffs darted into the mountain chain. Their pursuers were right behind, dipping to the side to avoid colliding with the hard peaks.

  Krasus scowled. He knew how talented his kind was at maneuvering through mountains. Dragons played at such games from the moment they could fly. He had his doubts that even here he and the druid could escape, but they had to do what they could.

  Then the mage thought of those games again, and his hopes rose.

  He caught Malfurion’s attention and made several gestures to try to explain what he wanted, the last a quick jab with his finger toward a peak to the northeast. Fortunately, the druid was quick to read him. From Malfurion’s expression, the night elf also had his doubts, but like Krasus, he understood that they had little other hope. Casting a spell sufficient to drive back not one but two dragons would be very difficult even for the most trained mage.

  As they dove toward one particular peak, the druid abruptly steered his hippogriff to the right. Krasus did the opposite. The mage quickly glanced over his shoulder and saw the dragons do the same, the larger one pursuing him.

  “Alexstrasza guide me…this must work…” he muttered.

  He could see neither Malfurion nor the other dragon, but that was to be expected. Krasus no longer concerned himself with the druid; there were two ways that his plan might succeed, but both depended upon him keeping ahead of his pursuer.

  That was proving far from simple. The huge black was a skilled flyer, rolling and banking as the narrow gaps his prey sought necessitated. The hippogriff, too, excelled in flying, but had to beat its wings much, much more just to keep pace with the monster behind it. Even with those efforts, however, the dragon slowly inched closer.

  A roar warned Krasus moments before another column of lava flew past where he had just been. Only his knowledge of a black dragon’s tactics had saved him that time. Even still, several places on his robe smoked from where tiny splatters had caught him, while his mount squirmed from ash that had landed on one hind leg.

  Krasus rode under a massive beaklike projection on the side of one mountain, then soared through a crack that made two peaks out of one. Each time, the dragon managed to avoid crashing despite the incredible speed with which he raced.

  The mountain that the dragon mage had pointed out to Malfurion was fast approaching. In spite of the danger to him, Krasus took the time to peer south, where the druid should have been. He neither heard nor saw anything, but continued on as he planned, hoping that somehow matters would work out.

  Again the dragon roared. A blast shot past Krasus, who frowned at his pursuer’s sudden lack of aim.

  Only when the mountainside ahead on his right shattered, spilling toward him, did Krasus know that he had been outmaneuvered.

  He had the hippogriff pull up swiftly and away. Even still, both were pelted by a storm of earth and rock. A chunk the size of Krasus’s head bounded off the flank of the animal, causing it to squeal and nearly toss its passenger to his doom. Only Krasus’s deathlike grip kept him from slipping.

  A great stench washed over rider and steed. The black was right behind them. Krasus raised his hand and uttered the quickest spell he could command.

  A random series of light bursts exploded in front of the leviathan. They were relatively harmless, but they startled the dragon, even blinded him momentarily. He twisted, roaring his anger. One wing struck a mountain, tearing away tons of stone.

  Krasus’s quick thinking had bought him a few scant seconds, nothing more. He hoped that the druid had managed to outpace the other dragon, but Krasus knew his kind’s tenacity. If Malfurion still lived, he likely held no greater a lead on his hunter than the mage did with his own.

  Then, just as the mountain he had chosen for the rendezvous arose before him, Krasus caught a glimpse of the other rider. The hippogriff looked frantic, and Malfurion had his head buried in its neck. Right behind them came the second behemoth.

  Krasus guided his own mount toward Malfurion’s, trying to keep just a little ahead of where the druid would be when they crossed paths. His animal called out, alerting not only its mate, but the druid, too. Malfurion lifted his head, the only sign that he had noticed his companion.

  As they
met at the southern face of the mountain, Krasus urged his hippogriff around it. Malfurion cut in the opposite direction. A moment later, the larger black, ignoring the other tiny figure, followed after Krasus. His comrade continued his chase of the druid.

  If there was one advantage that Krasus had over the black dragons, it was that they did not know he was one of their kind. Nor, for that matter, did they realize that he had flown this region so often in his long life that he likely knew its myriad paths better than anyone or anything.

  Again the giant behind him roared, and this time the blast struck so close that it left a seared edge on the mountain. making Krasus choke. Still the hippogriff raced along, trusting in its swiftness and its rider’s guidance. Krasus had it drop slightly, then forced it to slow. The animal fought the second command, but the mage used his considerable will to overcome any resistance.

  And just as the hippogriff obeyed, Malfurion materialized around the mountain’s edge.

  Krasus had his beast rise slightly to compensate for the oncoming druid. He and Malfurion rode nearly level; any closer and they would have collided.

  The mage caught sight of the edge of a leathery wing behind his companion.

  He forced the hippogriff down again.

  Malfurion had the second animal drive up into the sky with such speed and abruptness that the druid almost slid off its back.

  Krasus’s pursuer had no time to register the change in direction. Nor, for that matter, did the druid’s. So caught up in their own hunts, the dragons could not stop their momentum.

  With a thundering boom, the two giants collided head on.

  The dragons roared in pain and shock. Tangled together, they rolled to the side, crashing into the very peak that Krasus had earlier chosen.

  The entire region shook as they battered against it. From his high seat, Krasus thought he heard the crack of bone, but he did not wait around to find out. As the two dragons fell from sight, Krasus waved Malfurion on. By the time the two leviathans recovered, the mage and the druid would be long gone.