The dragon immediately obeyed. What Krasus could see of his expression turned startled. “I sense…I sense our own kind…”
“Only one?”
“No…there are so many, they overlap…”
“What does it mean?” Malfurion asked Krasus.
The dragon mage hissed. “It means that the demons we fought have done us more harm than I could have imagined!”
“But…we escaped virtually unscathed…”
Krasus would have preferred a few new wounds to what they had instead suffered. Even the minutes used to fight their way free of the trap had been too much. The others would be far ahead by now.
There was so much that he wanted to relay, but the spell cast on him prevented it. To Malfurion, Krasus could only utter one thing, but it was enough.
“The other dragons are ahead of us, druid…and he, no doubt, is at the head of the flight.”
Krasus saw that Malfurion had grasped the essence of his words immediately. The dragons were heading for the battle, certain that they wielded a power sufficient to destroy the Burning Legion.
They could not know that Neltharion, the one who led them to that battle, would there betray them…
Miles ahead and swiftly approaching their destination, the dragons flew ready for battle. Neltharion had led them along a route low to the ground, using the might of the Dragon Soul to eradicate the mist. That in itself had impressed the rest, including Alexstrasza and the other Aspects. No one doubted the amazing properties of his creation.
And as he soared toward his impending triumph, Neltharion’s head filled with the whispering voices. Nearly there, nearly there! they said. Soon, soon! they promised.
Soon all would bow before his glory, and the world would be made right.
“What do you wish of us?” Alexstrasza called to him.
I wish you to bare your throat to me…the Earth Warder thought, but instead answered, “I have described the array! I need all set in the sky as I asked! The Dragon Soul will do the rest!”
“As simple as that?”
I want to make it easy for you to bow to me…“Yes, as simple as that.”
She asked no more questions, for which Neltharion was grateful. His mind raged, and her nattering had nearly caused him to give himself away.
The Dragon Soul—his Dragon Soul—continued to clear the way for their eyes. As Neltharion peered ahead, he caught a glimpse of movement on the ground, movement like thousands of ants.
They had come upon the battle. He could scarcely contain his glee.
Patience…murmured the voices. Patience…
Yes, the black dragon could afford to be patient a little longer. He could be magnanimous. The prize was so great, a few more minutes would not matter.
Just a few more minutes…
Brox saw them first. Wiping the sweat from his brow after having dispatched a felbeast, the orc happened to glance up and see the first of the leviathans arrive over the battle scene. He gaped for a moment, almost losing his head to a Fel Guard for his stupidity. Brox traded blows with the demon, cut the creature into three pieces, then stepped back and looked around. Unfortunately, that one was not near.
The orc snorted. Rhonin might not know of the dragons yet, but surely it would not be long before everyone became aware of their presence.
The struggle, Brox decided, had just grown a lot more interesting.
Rhonin had never reached Lord Ravencrest. The noble stood within sight of him, but the sudden shift in the fight had forced the wizard to concentrate instead on keeping the front line from collapsing before him. Several quick spells of short duration had helped stabilize it, but he could not save the situation all by himself. Unfortunately, the Moon Guard was already stretched thin in some places and in others Illidan had them focusing on him so that he could cast his grand spells.
Malfurion’s brother had grown more and more reckless, and not simply because of the circumstances. He flung spells left and right as if they were pebbles, not caring that he came precariously close to hitting his own people.
Another area threatened to buckle. Prodded on by the Doomguard, three Infernals collided with the soldiers there, tossing them everywhere. Fel Guard poured through, chopping and thrusting at anything that still showed life.
The red-haired wizard gestured, but just as he finished the last bit of his spell, an explosion rocked the region in question. The Infernals shattered and the monstrous warriors behind them fell, their armor and most of their flesh torn away.
Had that been the only result, Rhonin would have cheered. However, among the demon dead were many night elves who had suffered the same horrible fate. Survivors cried out for aid. Blood splattered everything.
Rhonin cursed, but not because the fault had been his. His spell remained uncast.
His furious gaze fell upon Illidan. The sorcerer had finally done it. He had killed his own, and the most horrific part was that he had either not noticed or not cared.
The Burning Legion forgotten, Rhonin began shoving his way toward Malfurion’s twin. Illidan had to be taken to account; this could not happen again.
The subject of his righteous ire turned and saw him approaching. Illidan gave him a smile of triumph, which did nothing to alleviate the wizard’s anger.
But then Illidan looked up past Rhonin. Both his eyes and his smile widened as he pointed.
Despite wanting nothing to distract him, Rhonin had to look.
His eyes, too, widened…and a curse escaped his lips.
There were dragons in a suddenly-clearing sky. Hundreds of dragons.
“No…” Rhonin growled at the high-flying figures. He made out one at the forefront, a black so large that he could be only one dragon. That, in turn, meant that this could be only one particular event in history…the very worst of events, as far as the defenders could be concerned. “No…not now…not now…”
Twenty
There was little that could dismay Archimonde. He attacked every situation with an analytical mind—night elves, magic, even dragons.
But now his composure had been shaken. He had not expected the dragons to come in such numbers. All he had learned of them indicated that they remained out of worldly matters, so aloof that they could not see the end of their world coming. A few, of course, had been expected to act as mavericks, rogues. Archimonde had planned for those, countless Doomguard hiding in the mists and ready to take them on.
But not only had he been outmaneuvered by the beasts…they had all come.
The demon commander quickly composed himself. Sargeras permitted no failure at this point. Archimonde reached out with his thoughts, touched the minds of every Eredar and Dreadlord, and ordered them to turn their magics on the approaching flights.
Confident that the sorcerous might of the Burning Legion would deal with these interlopers, Archimonde returned his attention to the battle. The Nathrezim and warlocks would eliminate the dragons. The latter were only creatures of this world, after all, their power limited to its laws. The Legion was so, so much more.
Yes, there was definitely nothing even the dragons could do to prevent his glorious victory.
Tyrande’s sisters had been pushed toward a hilly region upon which stood a few gnarled and dead oaks. The surprise swarming of the demons had left all night elves stunned, and regardless of the sisterhood’s attempts to rally those around them, even they had a hard time keeping hopeful under such a crushing blow.
The new high priestess now fought on foot, her night saber having sacrificed itself against blades meant for its mistress. Tyrande had slain the demons who had killed it, and now went to help another sister wounded badly in the same assault. Tyrande pulled the bloody figure up to the trees, where she hoped that the priestess could be left without being noticed by the attackers.
From her higher vantage point, the struggle took on an even more ominous tone. Everywhere Tyrande looked, she saw a sea of fiery figures pressing her people. Night elves fell left and right, mercile
ssly slaughtered.
“Elune, Mother Moon,” she suddenly muttered. “Is there nothing more you can do for your children? The world will end here if something cannot be done!”
But it seemed the goddess had given all that she could, for death continued to come to the night elves. Tyrande leaned down, hoping to at least aid her fellow sister, while at the same time wondering if she should even bother.
Then, the odd sensation that someone watched her made the high priestess pause in her healing. She looked over her shoulder, certain that she had glimpsed a shadow. However, when she peered close, Tyrande saw only the dead trees.
She almost returned to her work, but then something else caught her attention. Tyrande looked up to the sky and her crestfallen expression changed to one of hope.
Dragons filled the air, dragons of every flight.
“Praise Elune!” she gasped.
Her determination renewed, Tyrande focused on healing the other priestess. The Mother Moon had answered her prayers again. She had sent a force with which even the Burning Legion could not reckon.
Surely now there was nothing more to fear…
The dragons spread through the sky as Neltharion had dictated, alternating by their various colors so as to spread the particular talents and traits of each flight as evenly as possible. Near the Earth Warder, Alexstrasza, Ysera, Malygos, and the bronze female poised. Had Neltharion glanced at the red dragon, he might have noticed that Alexstrasza’s eyes darted here and there, as if seeking someone. In his madness, the black had not even registered the absence of her youngest consort.
Far below, the tiny figures had begun to notice the dragons’ overwhelming presence. A great, toothy smile spread across Neltharion’s reptilian features. His audience was ready.
“Now,” he rumbled, “let the Dragon Soul be revealed to our enemies below!”
The tiny disk flared so bright that every behemoth save the Earth Warder had to turn their eyes from it. Neltharion ignored the burning sensation in his orbs, so captivated was he.
The Dragon Soul struck.
Its attack came as a flash of the purest golden light, purer than the sun and stars, purer than the moon. It swept down across the demon horde and utterly vaporized the Burning Legion wherever it touched.
The demons howled. The demons shrieked. They spilled away from the killing light, fleeing as they had done before no foe, not even the night elves. Fear was a thing little known to their kind, but they felt it now.
The defenders at first watched in abject awe, so silent that one might have mistaken them for stone. Even the haughtiest among the nobles could not but gape at such power unleashed, power that made their command of the Well’s energy laughable at best.
Among the night elves, Rhonin shook his head, repeating, “No…no…no…”
Farther away, Illidan watched the epic destruction with the utmost envy, realizing that all he had learned was nothing compared to what the dragons wielded.
And on the other side of the battle, Archimonde frowned as his monstrous force collapsed like straw before a single power. Already he could sense Sargeras’s displeasure and knew that he, not Mannoroth or the Highborne, would suffer the brunt of his master’s wrath.
The Burning Legion did fight back, however ineffectively. The Eredar and Nathrezim focused their dark magic on the disk and its creator, casting spells that should have melted the Dragon Soul and stripped Neltharion of hide, flesh, and bone. They assailed all the dragons, seeking a swift end to this attempt to crush them.
“It is time!” roared the Earth Warder, barely able to suppress his madness. “Let the matrix be set!”
The other leviathans linked themselves by mind and power. Already tied into the disk by their earlier contributions, they had little difficulty in feeding the Dragon Soul yet more of their strength.
With a mocking cry, Neltharion unleashed the disk’s energies on the attacking spellcasters.
Eredar by the scores crumbled to dust, their screams short but telling. Dreadlords fluttering in the sky fell as light burned through them, reducing the fearsome demons to skeletal pieces. In other places, warlocks perished by a hundred different and horrific manners as the disk turned their very spells back upon them.
In the end, even the most cruel of them fled in panic. This was no power with which they could deal. Even their fear of Sargeras could not keep them from routing.
And when the Fel Guard, Doomguard, and others saw how their brethren fell to the power of the dragons, the last of their courage melted away almost as literally as many of their comrades had. Archimonde found himself a commander without anyone to command. His threats went unheeded, even when he slaughtered several of those around him to prove how much he meant them.
Astride his night saber, Lord Ravencrest gave out a bellow and pointed at the retreating horde. “The moment is at hand! For Kalimdor and Azshara!”
His call was taken up by the soldiers. The host pressed forward. At last, the war would be won.
Only Rhonin hesitated. Only he knew the truth. Yet, how could he argue with all that the others had witnessed? The dragons’ creation had done the task for which it had supposedly been created.
He looked around desperately for the one other who would have realized the threat, who could have told him what they might do.
But still there was no sign of Krasus.
Neltharion roared in triumph, watching as the puny demons scattered. He had proven to all the might of his Dragon Soul and, therefore, his own superiority.
Then, one of those he knew would betray him dared interrupt his moment of glory.
“Neltharion!” called Alexstrasza, her voice strained. “The demons are on the run! The Soul has done its work magnificently! Now is the time for us to break the matrix and assault them from all sides—”
“No!” He glared at her, no longer able to or desiring to hide the madness within. “No! I will say what will be done from here on! I, not you, Alexstrasza!”
The other Aspects suddenly stared at the Earth Warder as if seeing him for the first time. Malygos, in particular, appeared troubled as he tried reasoning with the black leviathan. “Good friend Neltharion! She meant no disrespect! It’s just that we can now be more effective if—”
“Be silent!”
The disk flared.
As one, the assembled flights stiffened, their wings caught in mid-flap. They did not plummet, however; the monstrous power of the Dragon Soul instead kept them frozen in the air. Their eyes were the only sign that they still had any consciousness, and all save those of the blacks held horror at the revelation that one of their most powerful had turned upon them.
“There will be no betrayal of me! I will do what is my right! My destiny is at hand! This land, all lands, will bow before my might! I will remake the world as it should be!”
His terrible gaze fell upon the battle, but not at the Burning Legion. The black behemoth held out the golden disk and hissed at the advancing night elves. “Let all see that they live by my choosing!”
And the power of the Dragon Soul was cast upon the defenders.
Caught up in what should have been their moment of victory, the night elves had even less of a chance to defend themselves against the disk’s power, not that it was likely they could have done anything. The brilliant light flashed across the foremost ranks…and they vanished, only their brief shrieks marking their passing. Riders atop night sabers perished in mid-run, their mounts dying with them. Scores of foot soldiers fell in the blink of an eye.
The grand assault splintered as the horror registered. Night elves now fled away from their retreating enemy, leaving a vast area of baked earth and a few gory fragments.
Chaos reigned. Neither the night elves nor the demons knew what to expect. All eyes turned to the fearsome black shape that wielded such death.
The Earth Warder’s voice overwhelmed all other sounds as he spoke to the tiny figures beneath him. “Know me, vermin! Know me and pray! I am Neltharion! I am
your god!”
The voices in his head had risen to a crescendo, urging him to more mayhem. However, for once Neltharion ignored them. He now wished to savor his triumph, make the puny creatures bow to his magnificence, and acknowledge his supreme power. He could, after all, decimate them whenever he pleased.
Which he would do as soon as he had tired of them.
“All must kneel before me! Now!”
Many did, while others stood in confusion and uncertainty.
The Dragon Soul eradicated that reluctance, its deadly light flowing once over the demons, then over the night elves. The lesson was a powerful one, and the rest fell to their knees in rapid succession.
“I have watched,” the insane leviathan snarled. “I have seen my world ruined by you pitiful insects! There must be order! I will have my world perfect again! Those who are not fit to serve me will be slain!”
A slight hiss from behind him made Neltharion whirl. Despite being unable to move save at his command, Alexstrasza had managed to give one hint of her anger and contempt.
“And you…” the black uttered, those below momentarily forgotten. “You, the rest of these traitorous 'friends’ of mine, you will live by my sufferance alone! For your conniving, your plotting, you deserve nothing better!”
Alexstrasza struggled to speak. Deciding to be magnanimous, Neltharion granted her that ability.
“What have you wrought, Neltharion? What evil have you perpetrated? You call us traitors, but I see only one for whom that title is deserved!”
“I give you permission to speak, dear Alexstrasza, but you should use it to plead for mercy for your crimes! You dare condemn me?”
She snorted at such words. “There is no one here among us who has committed more horrendous crimes than you!” Alexstrasza hesitated, then her tone abruptly softened. “Neltharion…this is not you! You always sought to make the world one of peace, of harmony…”
“And I will! When all obey my dictates, there will be no more chaos, no more war!”
The Demon Soul (warcraft) Page 27