Beyond the Dark Portal wow-4

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Beyond the Dark Portal wow-4 Page 19

by Aaron Rosenberg


  Khadgar swiftly closed the distance between them. The light around his staff increased, until it was a beam of solid light, too bright to be violet though still tinged with that hue. He slammed the beam-encased staff against the rising ogre's throat and held on as Dentarg screamed, his flesh smoking where the staff touched it.

  It was not a magical attack that saved the ogre then but an instinctive one. He heaved Khadgar off bodily and managed to regain his feet, though his neck bore a charred black line across it. Dentarg snarled, showing his fangs, and charged Khadgar. head down. But the human mage sidestepped the attack and swung his sword as the ogre stormed past, slicing the creature's upper arm.

  Dentarg's cry changed from one of rage to one of pain. Green light rose again from his hands, though it flickered here and there and flashes of crimson shot through it. Bringing his hands together again, Dentarg let the energy build between them, until he had a globe of pure magic that writhed and roiled with hatred. This he hurled at Khadgar, putting all his force behind it.

  Khadgar studied the fast-approaching globe calmly. Then he sheathed his sword and held out his hand, palm outward. The globe connected with his flesh, striking the palm squarely — and vanished into him, ab­sorbed without a trace.

  "Thank you," he told the astonished ogre. "I feel much better now." He stamped one foot and a minor shock wave toppled Dentarg again. The ogre landed heavily on his knees, and bowed his head, knowing he was in the presence of a superior opponent. Khadgar spared him any further humiliation, drawing his sword again and bringing it down upon the ogre's exposed neck with all his might. Flesh and bone parted cleanly, and he stepped back as the ogre's head rolled across the floor, spraying blood in its wake.

  For a moment he caught his breath, looking around the throne room, though he knew Dentarg had spoken the truth. He looked down at the ogre corpse, nodded, satisfied, and hurried back to find Turalyon. They would need to move quickly.

  "Good news!" Turalyon shouted when he caught sight of Khadgar again. "We hold the citadel!"

  "We were tricked," Khadgar said without preamble. "Ner’zhul is not here. He left well before the attack. He must have taken the artifacts with him. I wonder if he took the skull as well."

  Turalyon stared at him. "It was all a diversion, then?"

  "And we fell for it," Khadgar confirmed.

  Turalyon frowned, trying to find the good in this. "Still — this was undoubtedly the bulk of their warriors. And we crushed them! We've also taken their citadel - even if Ner’zhul himself wasn't here, this was still their headquarters, and now it belongs to us. Their military might is broken for good."

  "Aye, they'll not field another army again," Danath said, approaching them in time to hear the end of Tu­ralyon's statement. His armor was battered in places, and he bore several cuts on his arms, legs, and face, but he seemed unfazed by the injuries as he reined in and dismounted beside them. Turalyon clapped him on the shoulder, happy to see that his lieutenant had survived.

  "You did a fine job," he told Danath. "But Khadgar has discovered some ill news. Ner’zhul is not here — he knew we would attack, apparently, and stole away be­fore we arrived. And we think he took the artifacts with him."

  Alleria and Kurdran had joined them now. and Turalyon filled them in as well.

  "Well, we'd best be after 'im, then, eh?" Kurdran replied.

  "Do you know where they're going?" Alleria replied.

  "I don't know," Khadgar said. "But I can find out." He smiled. "I know Gul'dan's magical aura from the war, and I know the Eye of Dalaran as well. I can trace both of them." The others stepped back as he closed his eyes, muttering something beneath his breath. The air around him seemed to shimmer slightly, and a wind appeared from nowhere, tugging at their clothes and hair. Then the mage's eyes snapped open. For an in­stant they glowed a brilliant white and showed strange images dancing within them. Turalyon shuddered, looking away. When he turned back his friend's eyes were normal once more.

  "I found them," Khadgar reported, leaning slightly against his staff. "It wasn't easy, though. Turns out they're in two different locations."

  Alleria shook her head. "The skull and the Eye aren't together? Why would Ner’zhul let cither one out of his sight?"

  "I don't know, but he has. The skull went north, but the Eye is headed southwest, through what I think they call Terokkar Forest. I sensed the Book of Medivh there as well, which makes me think that's the way Ner’zhul went. I'd assumed that he needed the skull for the rit­ual, just as I need the book and skull to close the por­tals. But apparently he sent the skull somewhere else, though I can't imagine why."

  "And you need both? The skull and the book?" Tura­lyon asked.

  "Yes," Khadgar replied. "I can't close the rift com­pletely without them."

  Turalyon nodded. "Then we'll have to go after both." he decided. He glanced at the others, weighing options in his head. "Danath. I think you'd like to kill a few more orcs."

  "Indeed, sir, yes I would."

  Turalyon sighed. It pained him to see those he was fond of so revenge-ridden. But who was he to judge — he had not seen his whole contingent slaughtered while he fled to get aid. Danath would have to make peace with his pain in his own way, as Alleria had finally done. He would need to learn that you could fight without hate in your heart — fight for something, rather than against it.

  "Then you go after Ner’zhul. He's got a head start on us. so Kurdran, you and your gryphon riders scout ahead and find Ner’zhul and his companions. Attack them at once — kill them or at least slow them down and report back to Danath. He'll be following with ground forces."

  "Take some of my rangers with you for scouting," Alleria said.

  Turalyon smiled his thanks at her and said to Danath. "Your job is to destroy Ner’zhul and bring back those three artifacts."

  "Consider it done, lad." Kurdran replied, and turned away to his gryphons, Danath nodded, saluted, and went as well, to gather the men and get them ready for travel.

  Turalyon turned back to Alleria and Khadgar. "Get­ting that skull and closing the portal are my responsibil­ities. Khadgar, you're the only one who can trace the blasted thing. And Alleria . . ." He smiled softly. "I promised you I would never leave you behind."

  "Indeed you did, my love. And do not think I won't hold you to it." He extended a hand, and she took it and squeezed it tight for a moment. There would be no more partings for them… until the final one.

  And maybe not even then.

  She grinned. "Let's go."

  Together the three friends turned away from the conquered citadel and the portal in the distance. They would find the ghoulish relic that would seal that rift forever, or die trying.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “They are gaining on us."

  Ner’zhul glanced over at Kilrogg. "Then we move faster."

  The Bleeding Hollow chieftain growled and shook his head. "We are already moving as fast as we can without killing our mounts and ourselves," he pointed out bitterly. "Any faster and my warriors will drop dead before the Alliance even reaches us. And who will pro­tect you then?"

  They had been marching for almost a week now, and the first few days had been uneventful. They had reached Terokkar Forest without any problem, and had stepped under those tall, twisted trees with a hint of re­lief. The forest was as dark and gloomy as ever, the dark clumped foliage of its trees high enough overhead that little sunlight could pierce their cover, the ground covered in fine dark moss and short scrub but other­wise bare. But after days of walking under the hot sun it was pleasant to find shade, and the forest seemed cool and peaceful.

  Until one of Kilrogg's warriors, who had stayed far back from the rest to scout behind them, had come running to find them where they camped for the night.

  "The Alliance!" the warrior had gasped, panting and sweating from his run. "They are right behind us!"

  "They must have taken Hellfire Citadel faster than we'd expected," Gorefiend had said. "Damn Kargat
h! He was supposed to hold them!"

  Kilrogg had remained calm, as always. "How many are there?"

  The scout had shaken his head. "I could not get a clear count of them, but many. More than we have here, for certain. And they're moving at a frenzied pace."

  "They're pushing themselves to their limits," Kil­rogg had mused, idly stroking the scar below his miss­ing eye. "Hate lends one speed."

  "How long before they reach us?" Gorefiend had asked.

  "They are perhaps two days behind us," the scout had answered. "But their leader drives them like a mad­man, and they are closing the distance rapidly."

  "Rouse the camp," Kilrogg had decided. "Everyone up. We will march through the night to put more dis­tance between them and us. Move!"

  Within minutes they had been on the move again.

  Since then they had taken only short breaks, stopping beside one of Terokkar's many glittering streams and rivers for water and to catch their breath. But still the Alliance came on, and the gap was lessening.

  And now they faced an awful choice.

  "We can stand and fight," Gorefiend suggested, but Kilrogg was already shaking his head.

  "They outnumber us," the one-eyed orc pointed out, "by a significant margin." He scowled. "I hate to say it, but if we face them, they'll slaughter us. And while I will gladly die for the Horde, as will my clan, dying here will not get you to the Black Temple."

  "And we cannot outrun them," Gorefiend offered. "I do not think that with their prey in sight, they will fall behind."

  "We can take shelter in—" Ner’zhul began, but Kil­rogg cut him off quickly.

  "That is still days away," he interrupted hastily. "Surely we do not need to consider that just yet?" Sweat beaded across his brow and Ner’zhul was both sur­prised and amused to realize that Kilrogg Deadeye, a legendary figure known for his courage and sheer guts, was afraid.

  This was not the time to be squeamish, however. "It is our only option," he pointed out, his tone sharp enough to prevent Kilrogg from breaking in again. "They are still gaining on us, and if we cannot run and cannot fight we must hide. And the only place in this forest we can effectively do that is—“

  This time the interruption came not from one of the two lieutenants before him but from above. Ner’zhul felt a change in the air, and the crackle of a possible storm, but unusually intense and concentrated in a tight line that bore down upon them. On instinct he dove for the ground. A heartbeat later something hurtled through the space where his head had been, trailing lightning behind it. He caught a glimpse of a dark blur that soared back up into the air and flew be­tween the trees — to land solidly in the hand of a stout figure riding a winged beast that was bearing down upon them.

  "Gryphons!" Kilrogg shouted, raising his axe above his head. "Take cover!"

  Chaos erupted. Orcs ducked behind tree trunks and slid into the nearby river or hugged its banks. Every­one was stumbling and running and falling, scrabbling in the darkness to avoid the dimly seen figures up above.

  A second lightning bolt streaked through the trees and scared Ner’zhul's sight, leaving nothing but a blind­ing white for an instant and flashing afterimages when that had faded. Then a thunderclap shook the forest, rattling the trees and throwing many orc warriors off their feet.

  Clearly one of the Wildhammers' attacks had been successful.

  The Wildhammers flew down upon their gryphons, hurling their stormhammers left and right. Some attacks missed their target, but those accursed hammers merely rose and returned to their owners, who loosed them again like vengeful spirits. Lightning split the air again and again, and the thunder was an almost con­stant roar. When they were not throwing their ham­mers, they were swooping in so close that the gryphons themselves could attack the orcs, slashing throats with claws the size of an orc hand, pecking out eyes and fracturing skulls with a single jab of a deadly beak. Between flashes Ner’zhul saw that some of the orcs had clustered together, assuming safety in numbers but in reality only providing an easier target. He watched a hammer blow scatter a dozen orcs at once. After the thunder and lightning only one of them even stirred, and that feebly.

  "They're slaughtering us!" he hissed at Gorefiend, who was crouched beside him. "Do something!"

  The death knight glared at him, and a slow, calculat­ing grin spread across his rotting face. "This is but a handful of short human pretenders and overgrown birds. I thought the mighty Ner’zhul would be able to handle such a pathetic attack. But no matter. I can, if you are unable." He started to rise.

  The impudence! Ner’zhul's mind shot back to the conversation with Gul'dan's skull.

  Arrogance! He should not speak so to you.

  No. He should not.

  "You should not speak so to me, Teron Gorefiend," he said, his voice icy. Gorefiend blinked, surprised at his tone. "Nor will I permit it from you again." Ner’zhul rose, fueled by his anger. He clenched his fists and concentrated on the earth beneath them and the air around them. His shamanistic magic had once made him one with this world, able to tap the elements themselves. But the elements no longer heeded his call — they had not since he had sworn alle­giance to Kil'jaedcn, as if the elements were disgusted by the demonic energy that now tainted all his race. But no matter. He had learned new skills since.

  Whereas before the forest had been still, save for the cries of attack and the wails of the dying, now a wind erupted out of nowhere. A gryphon that had a mo­ment before been diving smoothly for another pass, beak open in an angry shriek, claws extended, now cawed frantically as it was buffeted about as if by an un­seen hand. Its rider struggled to maintain his seat, but failed and fell heavily toward the ground. The unbur­dened gryphon sought the skies. Ner’zhul gestured with both hands commandingly, and the wind snatched up dry gray sand and proceeded to scour both dwarf and gryphon with it. The Wildhammer cried out, not in victory but in agony as his skin was scoured from his bones. It was a sweet sound to Ner’zhul's ears. Its mount was no luckier. Feathers flew and droplets of blood were caught up in the whirlwind. Seconds later there was nothing but two piles of glistening flesh on the forest floor.

  But Ner’zhul was nowhere near done.

  A wave of his left hand, and rocks the size of his head dislodged themselves from the earth and shot upward as if hurled by the very ground rippling be­neath them. Ner’zhul turned his attention to the rest of the Wildhammers. More rocks erupted from the ground, propelled into the sky, and the gryphons and their riders tried to dodge the suddenly animate stones. The attack against the orcs ended as the Wild­hammcrs found themselves forced to concentrate on evading this new menace.

  Ner’zhul turned to Gorefiend, a slighdy superior smile on his lips. The death knight looked surprised, but recovered quickly. "Nicely done," Gorefiend said. "Now let me see if I can add to the confusion." Study­ing the forms darting about overhead, the death knight stood still a moment, eyes narrowed. "There," he said at last, gesturing toward one dwarf in particular. "I have seen that one before, during the Second War. He is their leader." Gorefiend stood up and raised his hands high. They began to glow with a pulsing green light, and then that energy shot upward, striking both gryphon and rider.

  The gryphon squawked in obvious pain and plum­meted, its wings furled tightly around it. At the same time, its rider convulsed as well and toppled out of his saddle. The gryphon managed to shake off its injuries and spread its wings just in time, turning a dead fall into a choppy glide and then beating hard to rise back up above the lower branches and into the shadows. Its rider was not so fortunate. The dwarf slammed into the ground and lay unmoving. Gorefiend was already sprinting toward the body, as was Kilrogg, and Ner'zhul joined them.

  This was the first dwarf Ner'zhul had ever seen up close, and he studied the strange little figure intently, taking in the stout muscular build, the craggy features, the long braided beard and hair, and the tattoos that covered most of the dwarf's flesh. The Wildhammer was bleeding from several gashes, but his chest stil
l rose and fell regularly.

  "Excellent," Kilrogg commented, pulling a leather strip from his belt pouch and tying the dwarf's hands together behind his back, then doing the same to his feet. "Now we have a captive." He lifted the bound dwarf to his feet, and bellowed, "Begone, winged pests, or we will slaughter and devour your leader while you watch!"

  The Wildhammers apparently decided they had had enough. The gryphons cawed and clacked their beaks, then wheeled and flew up beyond the trees, disappear­ing from view. Only Kilrogg's captive remained behind.

  But that couldn't last. "We need to assess our losses." Kilrogg pointed out after the Wildhammers had gone. “And we should post scouts to check on the rest of the Alliance army".

  Ner'zhul nodded. "Take care of it," he said absently. He would die before admitting it, but he found himself surprised by his own power. It had come so easily, and was so strong. And produced such impressive results. It felt… good.

  "We lost a full quarter of our forces," Kilrogg reported some time later, stepping back up beside Ner'zhul where the shaman waited against one of the larger trees. "Those dwarves know how to attack quickly and effectively, and they used the trees to good advantage," Ner'zhul could hear the grudging respect in the aging chieftain's tone. Kilrogg was too good a strategist not to appreciate sound tactics, even if they were from the other side.

  Then Gorefiend joined them, "The rest of their army is still racing toward us," he confirmed. "Clearly they sent the dwarves on ahead to wound us and slow us down." The death knight bared his teeth at their captive, who lay on the ground near Ner’zhul's feet. He had groaned several times but had not yet regained consciousness.

  "How far behind us are they?" Ner'zhul demanded.

  "Still a day, perhaps two. And in our current state we cannot stand against them."

  Ner'zhul nodded. "Then only one course of action remains," he stated. "We must go to Auchindoun."

 

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