The guardian — it could be nothing else — took two more steps, which brought it directly even with the druid and the fighter. As tall as any dragon, it dwarfed the night elf. Watching one blocky foot rise and fall, he imagined being crushed flat.
For several anxious moments, it studied its surroundings. Malfurion began to grow certain that it suspected their presence, but at last the giant moved on, heading in the direction from which the two had come.
When it was far from sight, the druid and his companion crept out of their hiding place.
“Do you think it’ll come back?” Malfurion asked.
“Yes… so we must hurry.”
They continued down the winding passages, the night elf pausing more than once to collect his bearings. Once, the two went several yards down one tunnel, only to have Malfurion discover that he had gone the wrong direction.
At last, however, they came across a narrow cavern that Malfurion could never forget. He paused at the entrance, stunned that they had finally reached their destination.
“It’s up there.” The night elf pointed up at the false protrusion. “Right where that sticks out. Just to the left of that crack.”
Brox clearly did not see it, but as he harnessed his ax, he said, “Will take your word, druid.”
There remained, however, the difficulty of reaching it. Again, what had been so easy to deal with when in his dream form was now high, high up. The Demon Soul’s hiding place required a sturdy — not to mention, dangerous — climb.
In the background, they could still hear the hammering and the dragon’s occasional roars. Urged on by that, the pair began climbing. Malfurion, being more nimble, at first took the lead, but Brox’s strength and endurance soon had them moving at more or less the same pace.
“There — there’s a small cave just below and to the left of the spot,” the druid called. “We can use — use it for rest.”
“Good,” grunted the green-skinned warrior.
Neither looked down, aware how that could throw them off balance. The tiny cave, likely just large enough to hold both of them, beckoned.
Without warning, a familiar voice filled his mind. Beware the trolls!
It took the night elf a moment to register the mental warning from Krasus. That the elder spellcaster had kept a link with him did not surprise Malfurion, but the mage’s warning made absolutely no sense. Trolls? What did he mean?
A slight powdering of dust sprinkled his face. His eyes stinging, Malfurion blinked it away.
Through watering eyes, he saw a long, cadaverous head with ears akin to those of a night elf and a shock of hair dangling over the forehead. Two yellowed tusks jutted up from his jowls. A black, glowing gem had been embedded in the middle of the forehead, no doubt Deathwing’s method of keeping such guards under his sway. The creature was much taller than a goblin, even a bit taller than Malfurion. His ruddy, dark gray skin blended in well with the rock face.
“Hello, supper…” sneered the troll. He reached down with the clear intention of pushing Malfurion off the wall.
The druid pulled back as best he could, the troll’s sharp nails coming within a hair’s breadth of his face. Malfurion tried to steer around the cave, but the troll grabbed hold of the rock face and, much like a spider, came crawling down after his prey.
He heard an angry growl from Brox and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that another troll was coming up from underneath the orc’s position. Worse, a third and fourth had emerged from other holes, one heading for each of the intruders.
“You’ll make a pretty splat, supper…” the first troll taunted. “Eat your brains raw and cook your liver for something special!”
He snatched at Malfurion again, this time managing to get a hold of the druid’s wrist. With amazing strength, the troll attempted to tear him free.
None of the spells the night elf had been taught seemed of any use to Malfurion. He fought hard to maintain his remaining grip, digging his fingers in so hard he was certain he would scrape off all the flesh.
Then, a shriek from below distracted the troll. Brox had put his dagger to good use, burying it in his own attacker’s shoulder. The troll toppled off the wall, falling to his death. Unfortunately, he took the orc’s blade with him.
With a snarl, the one who had seized the druid’s wrist tugged even harder. As Malfurion battled to hold on, he noticed the second of his foes coming up underneath, no doubt intending to knock the night elf’s foot loose. There would be little chance for Malfurion to maintain his hold if that happened.
The druid noticed a small beetle moving along the wall just above where the troll clung. Malfurion quickly concentrated, praying that his grip would last long enough.
As he hoped, the beetle turned and headed toward the night elf’s fiendish adversary. More important, others began coming out of the rock, all of them congregating underneath the troll.
At first, Malfurion’s foe did not notice anything amiss, but then the cannibalistic creature began to squirm uncomfortably. He tried to ignore what was happening, but finally it proved too much of an annoyance. With a frustrated hiss, the troll released his grip on Malfurion and began swatting at the insects now crawling on his chest.
Malfurion swung his fist. He only grazed the troll on the arm, but it was enough. Already forced to an awkward position by the beetles, the last of the troll’s grip readily gave way.
With a cry, the creature slipped. Luck was with the druid, for the troll collided with his companion below. Unable to withstand the weight crashing down on him, the second troll also lost his hold.
Malfurion looked away as they struck the floor, his gaze turning to the orc.
“Go!” roared Brox, maneuvering against the last of the trolls. “The disk! Get it!”
After a moment’s hesitation, Malfurion reluctantly obeyed. He had seen Brox fight demons under worse circumstances. The orc could handle the remaining troll.
Be wary… came Krasus’s voice. I have removed some of the protective spells, but there are others with which you must deal!
The druid already sensed them. Some were fairly obvious, others well-hidden. He studied the nature of each’s creation and, through that, either removed or nullified them. It surprised him that this part of his quest should be so swiftly accomplished. Malfurion had expected more from Deathwing.
There was another scream, a troll scream. The night elf did not even bother to look, for he already heard Brox grunting as the orc ascended.
The false front awaited Malfurion. He probed it with his mind — finding new spells, but nothing he could not counter.
Glancing down, he saw that Brox had reached the cave that they had originally sought. The orc peered inside.
“Wind… maybe way out, druid.”
Anything that would shorten their time here was welcome. Nodding, Malfurion returned his attention to the false front. They had been fortunate so far that the distraction caused by Deathwing’s mad work had buried the sounds of the trolls’ deaths, but fortune would not smile on the two forever…
He delved past the last of the protective spells, then tugged at the false rock. It was heavy, as he had expected, but he managed to pull out the side nearest to him enough so as to be able to slip inside.
“I’ll be quick!” he called.
Brox nodded.
Malfurion had expected darkness within, but what greeted him instead was a brilliant light that at first burned his sensitive eyes, then, somehow, soothed them.
And when his eyes adjusted, the night elf saw that but a few scant yards from him lay the Demon Soul. It rested upon a regal, red cloth the size of a ship sail, nestled in it like a newborn infant. The disk was so small that even Malfurion could wield it in one hand. It looked rather plain despite the magnificent glow radiating from it. Yet, knowing what power dwelled within, the night elf treated the dragon’s creation with the utmost respect and caution.
The druid studied the forces in play around the Demon Soul and saw none that would endanger him. C
learly, Deathwing believed his prize so safe here that he had not bothered with any further spells inside.
Malfurion leaned over the disk. So much power in something so little. It had seemed larger in the dragon’s paw, yet, he knew it had not changed size.
“Druid!” he suddenly heard Brox cry. “Something comes! The stone one, I think!”
With visions of the monstrous golem rushing through his head, Malfurion wasted no time, scooping up the disk in one easy motion.
Only then did he realized his terrible error.
What sounded like the screams of hundreds of dying dragons filled the chamber. Malfurion fell to his knees as the cries momentarily overwhelmed him. He felt as if the essence of every dragon who had contributed to the Demon Soul’s creation now screamed for release — but knew that what he actually heard was a last, cunning alarm secreted around the disk in so subtle a fashion as to be invisible to his most acute senses.
And as the first cries died away, a worse sound echoed throughout the caverns.
The furious, frenzied roar of Deathwing.
Nine
The pain was a pleasure to Neltharion, for each bolt hammered into his scaled hide meant one step closer to godhood. With the armor and the disk, he would be invulnerable to any threat…
“Hurry!” the dragon demanded again. “Hurry!”
The goblins almost had the hammer machine in place. Meklo clung to the device, directing the last adjustments before the new strike —
And then a sound that the Earth Warder thought never to hear resounded through the caverns, a sound that so horrified the leviathan that he kicked out without thinking, sending the machine, Meklo, and the rest of the goblin crew flying.
“My disk! My Dragon Soul! Someone tries to steal it!” He let out a fearsome roar that sent the rest of the goblins retreating from the massive work chamber.
Neltharion rose. Only partially secured, the third of his metal plates dangled back and forth as he spun toward the passage. The black giant’s feet and tail sent tables, forges, and molds scattering across the cavern. Fires broke out and one furnace exploded, bombarding everything with burning missiles.
To Neltharion, none of the chaos and destruction mattered. Someone had dared attempt to take that which was most precious to him. He would not permit it! They would be caught and they would be slain… but slowly, agonizingly. It was the least that they deserved for such an affront.
That any intruder had gotten past all his various traps, guardians, and spells utterly outraged the Earth Warder. This had been a concerted effort and one that had to have been attempted by the other dragon flights. He would make them all suffer, as he had done to the blues.
Roaring again, the dragon hurried into the tunnel.
He comes! Krasus warned needlessly. He comes!
Then, the link between the pair was unexpectedly severed. Malfurion feared that something had happened to Krasus, but he knew that he could not concern himself with his friend. What mattered most was to escape with the Demon Soul.
“Druid! Come! Hurry!”
He slipped the disk into a pouch, the light fading as Malfurion sealed the bag. Climbing out, he saw Brox waiting anxiously by the nearest edge of the first troll’s cave. Moving swiftly, the night elf made his way to the other opening. Brox pulled him inside. Allowing Malfurion no time to catch his breath, the orc dragged his companion deeper into the cave.
“May be a way out! Wind may mean exit.”
The troll’s lair lay littered with bones and refuse. Malfurion tried not to look at the former, even if they were likely from goblins.
But their hopes for a path to freedom were quickly dashed. The two other chambers that they found led nowhere and the air current that Brox had felt came from small cracks.
“It would make sense that the dragon wouldn’t leave such a route open even to his enslaved trolls,” the night elf muttered. “We’re trapped…”
They heard heavy footsteps outside, but not the kind that a dragon would make. Malfurion peered around the edge of the chamber and made out the hulking form of the stone golem as it passed.
“Deathwing can’t be far behind…” No other title suited the black dragon anymore, not after what the druid had witnessed.
“We stand and fight, then,” Brox replied stoically. “Let them see we have no fear.”
The disk… use the disk…
Malfurion started. The voice vanished so quickly that he had no time to identify it, but it obviously had to be that of Krasus. The night elf still hesitated, though, aware of the dark powers of the Demon Soul. He had seen what wielding the disk had done to the dragon; might it not affect him in some similar manner?
A roar shook the cave. Rocks fell from the ceiling, some of them large enough to cave in a night elf’s skull. There was no more time left to think…
“Druid, what do you plan?” Brox asked anxiously as he saw Malfurion bring out the Demon Soul. Its light filled the chamber and, unfortunately, spread well beyond. If the golem did not know where they were before, certainly it knew now… and so, very soon, would Deathwing.
“It’s our only hope…” Malfurion raised the disk toward the largest of the air passages. He had no idea how the Demon Soul functioned, so he simply tried to imagine it creating for them an opening large enough for the pair to escape.
Nothing happened.
You must meld with it… let it be you and you it…
Again, the link vanished, but at least now the night elf had a clue. Focusing on the disk, Malfurion delved into it with his thoughts.
Immediately, he felt its unnerving nature. This was not an object that belonged of the mortal plane. The forces that Deathwing had summoned came in great part from elsewhere. The druid almost withdrew, but knew that he dared not.
Meld with it, Krasus had said. Malfurion tried to open himself up to the Demon Soul, let its power touch his own.
And just like that… he succeeded. The strength flowing through the night elf filled him with such confidence that it was all he could do to keep from marching out to confront Deathwing, the golem, and every other dragon in the lair. Only the knowledge that his own death would surely mean the end of hope for those he cared about prevented Malfurion from doing that.
The orc studied him warily. “Druid… are you well?”
“I’m fine,” he nearly snapped. Taking a deep breath, Malfurion gave Brox an apologetic look, then refocused the Demon Soul on the air passage.
“Open the way…” the night elf whispered.
The glow around the disk brightened… and suddenly the rock above melted away to vapor. It left no rubble, no trace whatsoever. The Demon Soul burned away stone and earth without any effort. Although they could not see the magical forces in play, the duo marveled at the effects. Further and further up went the new tunnel, disappearing from sight.
“It’ll continue until the path is completely cleared,” Malfurion said, although how he knew that, he could not say. “We should start up.”
What felt like thunder shook their tiny cave. Brox quickly looked around the corner. “The stone one’s trying to dig in!”
They wasted no more time. Malfurion leapt up into the magically-created passage, with Brox at his heels. The mountain continued to quake from the malevolent guardian’s efforts.
Worse, the two had only managed a few steps when they heard the dragon’s rumbling voice. “Where are they? I will peel the flesh from their bones, drive pins through ever nerve! Away!”
The last word was followed by a tremendous crash, which Malfurion could only assume was the golem being shoved aside by its master.
“This mountain will be your tomb!” Deathwing bellowed into the cavern.
There was a great sound — like a geyser that a younger Malfurion had once seen erupting — followed by a horrific increase in the temperature.
“Get in front of me!” the druid cried. As Brox leapt past, he pointed the Demon Soul behind them and threw his entire will into the siniste
r disk.
A savage gust of icy air shot down the tunnel… meeting only a short distance away a fiery flood of molten earth racing up. The monstrous flow slowed to a crawl… then halted less than a yard from Malfurion.
Gasping, the night elf scrambled back. Brox, eyes wide, carefully helped Malfurion up the path. The orc appeared overawed by the forces his comrade had wielded, overawed and not a little concerned.
“Be careful with that, druid. I trust not such might in so misleading a form.”
“I — I agree wholeheartedly.” And yet, it had felt exhilarating unleashing such power. Perhaps Malfurion had been wrong; perhaps he should have turned back to face the black dragon. Had he defeated Deathwing, one of the major threats to Kalimdor would have been removed. After that, the Burning Legion would hardly have seemed like so terrible a danger. With the Demon Soul, Deathwing had handled them quite easily.
The magicks of the disk continued to amaze them as they climbed. All along the way, they found the ground beneath them molded for proper footing. Thanks to that, the pair more than doubled their earlier pace.
“I feel wind,” Brox uttered carefully. “Stronger wind.”
Their hopes raised, they pushed on harder. Malfurion heard a sound which he at first took for hissing, but then realized was the very wind the orc had mentioned.
“There!” the night elf rasped. “The opening!”
Indeed, the Demon Soul had done exactly as asked. They emerged on the sloping edge of the mountain, a cool yet welcome breeze greeting their exit from the hellish lair.
They were not safe, yet, however. Sooner or later, Deathwing would realize that they had gotten outside. He and his flight would come in pursuit.
“Best put that away again,” the aging warrior suggested. “The glow will be seen.”
Malfurion did not bother to mention that Deathwing might be able to sense the disk even when it was in the pouch. Still, at least putting it away would give them a little better chance. His fingers reluctantly bidding the Demon Soul farewell, the druid tied the pouch tight.
Once more, it was Brox who led the way. The orc tested each step down the snowy slope, more than once finding spots where they would have ended up tumbling to their deaths. For now, Brox kept his ax secured. One stumble could cost him the valuable weapon.
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