Makasa appeared at his side. She had explained their connection to these assorted creatures while they made their battle plan, but now she pointed out faces and names for him. “Those are the Woodpaw gnolls, Hackle’s clan, and that’s Feral Scar; he leads the yetis in Feralas.”
“Suggul! Kureeun!” Murky exploded out of the band of murlocs, leaping into the arms of another large gnoll.
It was quite the reunion, and even Makasa clapped hands with the leaders of the gnoll pack, their meeting more civil and less emotional.
“How did you get here so fast?” Makasa asked Sivet.
The petite gnoll smiled up at her, flashing razor-sharp white teeth. “Feral Scar make deal with pirate. Feral Scar pound pirate into dust if not help. They give ship.”
“That’s … not making a deal.” Makasa snorted.
Sivet didn’t seem to care. “Jaggal get sick on water, so, so funny! All get good laugh!”
She did an impression of the gnoll vomiting and moaning in pain. “Good laugh!”
“Not sick, not weak,” Jaggal insisted with a huff.
Wuul, Elmarine, and Shagtusk joined them, the tall, graceful elf sweeping a bow as she came. “I offered to portal them after I received your message, but they were rather more fixated on forceful persuasion.”
“Whatever happened, we’re glad you’re here,” Makasa said. She reentered one of the command tents, and introduced the Woodpaw gnolls, Feral Scar and his yetis, the wyverns, Wuul, Shagtusk, and Elmarine to the Everstill murlocs, and then to the new additions to their troop. (Telagos and Galena both seemed quite taken with the high elf.) It took quite a long time, for the scorpion-tailed wyverns, Old One-Eye and her cubs, had to be explained, and then the volunteers had to be introduced to the plan.
“Telagos is a blue dragon,” Makasa explained. An “oooh” of appreciation chased around the assembled armies. “And this is Galena Stormspear, a tauren druid with the Cenarion Circle. And this is Baron Reigol Valdread. He … takes some getting used to.”
Thank you for the glowing recommendation.
“At your service,” Valdread said gallantly, bowing, hoping to salvage the mediocre introduction. Dozens of angry animal eyes stared back at him. A gnoll in the back growled. “I don’t work for Captain Malus anymore,” he said. “And I know my appearance takes some … getting used to, but I assure you, I’m more than ready to risk everything for the cause.”
Nobody seemed charmed.
Hackle bristled, raising his club. “At first! Hackle no like Stinky Man. Is true, he stink, he ugly, he missing many part. Once, Hackle try to club on head, but now Hackle know, and Hackle trust. Gnolls and yetis and wyvern, quilboar, and tauren trust, too, or Hackle club you.”
“I appreciate that, friend,” Valdread murmured.
That seemed to be good enough for the assorted creatures, who no longer stared at him with such open hostility. Makasa barreled along, kneeling, clearing a flat space in the dirt and revealing their battle map.
“Valdread thinks Malus and Xaraax will have the bulk of their armies here, between Falcon Watch and this bramble arakkoa stronghold to the south,” she said, pointing, and the soldiers crowded around her, straining to see over one another. “Don’t worry, we have a long march to get there; you will all get a chance to see the map. Telagos, the wyverns, and a few of the fastest gnolls will scout ahead, clearing out anything that might get in our way. We want to move fast and reach Falcon Watch before Malus can get organized. Be ready for a swift journey. Get rest now; we leave through the portal in two hours.”
Hackle fell in with the Woodpaw, barking directions. They reignited their campfires, assembling spit roasts they had been using while they waited for the Cloudkicker to arrive. Water and food were passed around, and the battle map, Murky proudly displaying it to his cohorts and explaining to them what to expect.
The rest of their crew grouped up under their own tent, silent, heads bowed as they sat on half-demolished benches. Magistrix Elmarine joined them. Nobody seemed interested in eating the food Ceya Glade had packed for them. Rummaging in his bag, which had been returned to him shortly after his final arm, Valdread withdrew a small flask, bit off the cork, and downed the last of what was inside. It had been years since his living taste buds could savor the drink, but the comfort of the action eased his restless mind.
“I can’t believe we’re so close to Outland,” Galena breathed, covering her face in fear or excitement, perhaps both. “What will we see? What will it be like? I’ve heard so many stories—strange creatures and plants, so many new things to catalog and study. I only wish we had more time.”
“Survive this assault and you can return to catalog bugs and weeds until you’re old and gray,” Valdread teased.
Galena frowned at him. “You shouldn’t say such things. We are going to win … aren’t we?”
She looked to Makasa for reassurance. But the ex-raider simply pressed her lips together and stared at the ground. “I don’t know, Galena, I can’t possibly know that. All we can do is try.”
“Come now,” Valdread said, shocked that they were the glum ones for once. He wasn’t exactly hopeful, but the most crucial element of any battle was controlling morale. “You have struck against Malus countless times, but only on your own. There are more of you now, many more, and he has no idea that you’ve practically assembled a working army. Besides, nobody remembers battles where the odds were fixed. This will be a subject of legends, of songs and tales for years to come. Imagine it: an unlikely alliance, assembled at the last moment, a ragged band of mismatched travelers facing off against a demon army and its vicious leader.”
The others stared up at him in wonder, and Makasa suddenly stood, stomping her foot.
“He’s right. We’ve already done the impossible. We lost Greydon and Aram, we lost Thalyss and Drella, and we never gave up. We only grew stronger. More determined. This is our legend now; we make it end how we want.”
“Hear, hear!” Telagos leapt up, too, and then Galena.
“Well stated,” Elmarine agreed, her eyes flashing.
“This might be a messy crew,” Makasa said, flashing Valdread a grin. “But it’s our messy crew.”
“For Taryndrella!” Galena said, clapping her hands together.
“For Aramar,” Makasa added, putting her arm around the druid. “And for us.”
Throgg had never moved so fast in his life, galumphing down the tall, arched corridor, his lungs stinging as he gasped for air.
Malus was going to kill Throgg. There was a famous saying about messengers and killing them, but Throgg wasn’t known for his memory. Or his speed. But Throgg did his best, batting aside arakkoa and imps as he finally reached the rise of steps that would bring him to Malus. The human captain had carved out a spot for himself in Xaraax’s big castle; it wasn’t grand, very sparse for a man like Malus. It only occurred to Throgg then that maybe it was supposed to look sad and empty. A cunning russsssse, as Ssarbik would say.
Throgg skidded to a stop, leaning against the wall for support, his size and weight making the shoddy timbers creak. A sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling.
“Malus!” Throgg gasped for air. “Malus …”
The captain emerged from the shadows of his chamber. He was dressed in his shirtsleeves and clean trousers, with high, gleaming boots rising to his thighs. The hilt of the Diamond Blade was in his right hand, and he inspected it from every angle, hardly sparing Throgg a glance. The nasty wound on his face still hadn’t healed.
Behind him, a strange circular doorway glowed, a portal of some kind. A few of Xaraax’s minions tended to it, guarded by a dozen or so Gordunni ogres. They made the small room feel even more cramped.
“What is it?” he demanded, sharp.
“Ogres, what they doing here?” Throgg asked. He had almost forgotten why he came.
Malus spared them a quick glance. “Bodyguards. Mine. They serve their Gordok.”
That was wrong. All wrong. Throgg bristled.
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“You promised. You said! You said no more Gordok after you have compass. Now you have compass, so no more Gordok.” Throgg squared his shoulders, but Malus only smiled.
“Would you like to fight them all?” Malus asked. “One word from me and they will attack you. I have the compass, but not the shard. A technicality, you may say, but I’ve decided to keep the title of Gordok.” He nodded toward his “bodyguards.” “It’s proving useful.”
Throgg glared at them. It felt bad, like being stung a whole bunch of times by wasps or stepping in a wyvern’s nest. Throgg’s anger wouldn’t go. Malus had broken his promise.
“Why are you here?” Malus hissed.
“Scout … scout return. They have yeti size of two Throggs!” Throgg remembered his reason for coming, but couldn’t shake the feeling like he had been stung, badly.
“Who does, you imbecile?” Malus shouted. He finally glanced up from the sword hilt. Something on Throgg’s face must have concerned him, for he went a little pale and lowered his voice. “Explain.”
Throgg tried, but the details were hazy at best. The portal behind Malus thrummed, growing in power.
“Bird scout go into valley. Yeti and gnoll and all type of thing there. Not belong … Not right! Getting close to den, Malus, an army.”
Throgg watched the captain’s eyes slide back and forth rapidly. Throgg didn’t know what any of it meant. He only knew that gnolls and yetis never came to Outland, and they certainly didn’t come in organized forces, working together. Throgg remembered the carnage of Feralas, of the brutish gnolls that fought with clubs and axes, and the yetis that could smash an ogre’s head if they had a mind to.
Finally, Malus laughed, cruelly, smacking the hilt of the blade against his thigh in amusement. “Is it possible? Are they really that stupid? I can’t believe it …”
“Who?” Throgg asked. “Who stupid?”
Malus turned back toward his portal, disappearing behind it for a moment while he collected his flashy captain’s jacket and pulled it on. He was striding down toward Throgg, passing him, moving swiftly down the corridor. The screeches of the demons and arakkoa filling the fortress could be heard all around them, but Throgg didn’t notice them anymore. Throgg followed Malus, careful not to tread on him, but wishing he could.
“It’s those fool children. They seek to free their friend. How unbelievably arrogant.”
“We crush!” Throgg smashed his stump arm like a fist into his open palm. Battle. Throgg was ready. Throgg was always ready for battle. Karrga noticed him most when he fought, and sometimes Throgg even wanted to blush when he caught her admiring him after a particularly vicious kill. His warrior lady! There would be more opportunities to impress her, then. “Rematch!”
“Indeed.” Malus chuckled again, sliding the hilt of the Diamond Blade into his belt next to his broadsword. They emerged from the tall hall and into the massive, open-air fortress, the ceiling made up entirely of tightly knit brambles and branches. Arakkoa and demon nests dotted the palace, the armies of Xaraax practicing their torture methods in the rotunda below. The occasional scream of a tormented prisoner punctuated the chaos. The whole place smelled, in Throgg’s opinion, too strongly of bird droppings and sulfur. Horrible stenches wafted up from the demonic pits below, pits that Throgg avoided at all times.
“Find me that scout,” Malus said, standing watch for a moment at the top of the high walkway that overlooked the vastness of the fortress. “I want details. I want to know everything. And then, Throgg, we end this. Those children will be dead by sundown.”
* * *
From the ridge, Makasa watched an army pour out of the fortress. The lower half of the citadel was difficult to see at all, hidden as it was by hills and brambles. The upper half, their destination, looked, if one was not observant, like merely a series of caves dotting a gradual slope, arakkoa nests and more immense brambles tumbling over those caves in an effort to conceal them.
“I’ll bet that’s Xaraax’s army,” Makasa whispered. They made their way along the ridge to the north of the valley below, where the yetis and gnolls waited for the onslaught. Their friends were hopelessly outnumbered, but the yetis stood firm, absorbing the first wave of demons as they came pelting toward them with axes and swords raised. Xaraax’s numbers wore blackened armor with green tabards, glowing fel runes hammered into their helmets. Creatures with many arms swarmed the field, their hideous cries forcing a yelp of shock from Galena.
“So many,” the tauren murmured, covering her eyes. “How are there so many?”
“You no see demons on march. Woodpaw kill all in path,” Hackle said, proudly sticking out his armored chest. “This real fight now.”
“No,” Valdread reminded him. “The real fight is with Malus and Xaraax. Come.”
Makasa followed him, skirting carefully along the steep ridge with Galena, Hackle, and Murky. Telagos waited to play his part elsewhere, but soon he would take to the field. Down below, the ridge flattened out into the dish where the battle commenced, Malus’s bramble fortress behind the demons, and the distant sin’dorei towers of Falcon Watch behind their friends.
The murlocs, wyverns, and other volunteers waited in reserve, Valdread’s idea, as the murlocs were swift, light, and good ambushers, the wyverns could wreak havoc from the sky, Elmarine could do crowd control with her arcane magic, Shagtusk could mop up weakened enemies, and Wuul could split the demons’ skulls for them. The murlocs had gone ahead of Makasa and the others, running along the ridge on sure, flappy feet, rounding the bend and waiting in the brambles for their signal. It was impossible not to look at the chaos below as they picked their way along the hillside, nearing the upper entrances to the Hidden citadel.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Galena whispered, shaken.
“Battle is never pretty,” Valdread muttered, crouched low, gracefully stealing along the path, quiet as a whisper. “Tales make it sound glorious, but the truth of it is ugly, bloody, and loud.”
“Have courage,” Makasa reminded the druid. The tauren had not assisted them much during the fight at the Northwatch base, and they couldn’t afford to have her fall to pieces like that again. “Do it for Taryndrella. She would want you to be brave.”
“Yes, yes,” Galena said, looking away from the battle. “I’ll be brave for her. I must be brave.”
As they crept above the fray, the demon army broke against the immovable phalanx of the yetis. It was like they had run headlong into a wall of fur and claws. The yetis tore at them, bigger and stronger, but slow, flinging demons into the air, batting them hard across the field, leaving giant swaths of fallen fel soldiers that the faster gnolls could leap upon and finish. They worked well in concert, the yetis smashing, more like siege engines than soldiers, using their long, log-thick arms to cut a path through the sheer numbers of Xaraax’s army.
The gnolls leapt in where they could, retreating behind the yetis when they were in danger of being overwhelmed. Even so, Makasa saw many gnolls lost to the crush of the demons. The fel creatures were numerous and feral, imps and felhounds (as Valdread called them) that shrieked loud enough to mimic a storm, and they simply kept coming; there was no end in sight to the seething mass of them unleashed by the fortress.
They soon made their way into the fortress, the ridge curving hard to the north, their way forward narrower and narrower, Galena navigating clumsily, her hooves too wide for the treacherous ledge. Makasa helped her balance, Hackle behind her, ready to steady her.
They stilled, catching their breath, and Makasa looked back down at the battle in the valley. The first yeti had fallen, but that only seemed to enrage the others, who fought harder, roaring with fury, swinging from side to side, flattening dozens of demons with each swipe. A few enterprising gnolls had leapt onto the shoulders of the yetis, throwing spears and firing crossbows from that vantage, keeping the demons from swarming too quickly and dragging the yetis down.
“You would think they’d fought together for ages,�
�� Makasa said. “Look!”
She pointed to the wide arch of brambles where the demons had come from, the army trickling to a thin stream of lone stragglers. That was the moment they had been waiting for.
“Murky!” she called. “Give the signal!”
“Mrgle, mrgle!”
The murloc pulled a white shell from his belt and took a deep breath, his little white belly going round as a bubble. Then he blew into the conch, a high, reedy horn sounding across the valley. The murlocs hiding in the brambles above the fray descended, falling one by one onto the heads of the demon stragglers. They pelted them with rocks and stuck them hard in the sides with their spears, then moved on to the larger force, flanking them. They were joined by the rest of the volunteers, the wyverns harrying the demons with their claws and stingers while Magistrix Elmarine bombarded the enemy with a barrage of arcane missiles.
“It’s working,” Galena said, wide-eyed. “It’s working!”
“And now for the final touch,” Valdread said with a grin.
The conch and the reinforcements had been the signal for Telagos. High above, he emerged from behind a bank of clouds. He dove down, down, swift as a heron spearing a fish, and let out a great, frosty breath, a cone of frost that hardened, sealing off the demons from retreat, and making it difficult for more enemies to leave the citadel.
“He’s just amazing,” Galena trilled. “So graceful!”
“All right, we’re here,” Makasa said, redirecting their attention. “It’s our turn. There’s no telling what we may find inside, so we need to be prepared.”
Telagos circled the battle, diving now and then to freeze a demon into place for the gnolls to hack. Then he rose up again, gliding toward them, his blue scales shimmering in the unforgiving heat. He slowed and landed with a soft thump in front of them.
“Onward?” he asked, his gentle voice rumbling out from a dragon’s belly.
“Onward,” Makasa replied, loosening the chain around her chest and readying her harpoon. The blade of the Diamond Blade was strapped to her back, hidden under her jerkin. “I’m ready. Let’s give Malus his big surprise and find Aram.”
The Shining Blade Page 22