Read The Well of Eternity Online

Authors: Richard A. Knaak

The Well of Eternity (21 page)

BOOK: The Well of Eternity
3.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“Sound.” Brox scratched his ugly head. “Saw no night elf. Saw no felbeast, either.”

The human shivered. He certainly hoped that he had not included the demon in his escape. “Any idea where we might be?”

“Woods…forest.”

Rhonin almost snapped at him for the useless answer, but realized that he could do no better. “I was planning to go that way,” he said, pointing toward what he believed was east. “You have any better ideas?”

“Could wait until sunrise. Better able to see and night elves, they don’t like sun.”

While that made much sense, Rhonin did not feel comfortable waiting for daylight and told his companion so. Brox surprised him by nodding in agreement.

“Better to scout, wizard.” He shrugged. “Your direction as good as any.”

As they started off, a question occurred to Rhonin that he simply had to ask. “Brox…how did you get here? Not this exact location—I know that, of course—but how did you come to this realm?”

At first the orc only clamped his mouth shut, but then he finally told the wizard. Rhonin listened to the tale, careful to hide his emotions. The veteran and his ill-fated partner had been right behind Krasus and him and, like the others, had been caught by the anomaly.

“Do you understand what swallowed us?”

Brox shrugged. “Wizard’s spell. Bad one. Sent us far from our home.”

“Farther than you might know.” Deciding that Brox had a right to the truth regardless of what Krasus might think, Rhonin told him what had happened.

To the wizard’s surprise, Brox accepted his story quite readily. Only when Rhonin thought about the history of the orc’s people did he realize why. The orcs had already journeyed through time and space from another world. A spell that would cast one into the past was hardly that much different.

“Can we return, human?”

“I don’t know.”

“You saw. The demons are here. The Legion is here.”

“This is the first time they tried to invade our world. Most beyond Dalaran don’t know that history anymore.”

Brox gripped his ax tighter. “We’ll fight them…”

“No…we can’t.” Rhonin explained Krasus’s reasoning.

But while Brox had quickly accepted all else, he drew the line when it came to leaving the past alone. The matter was simple for the orc; here was a dangerous, foul enemy who would slaughter all in their path. Only cowards and fools let such horror happen and Brox said so more than once.

“We might change history by interfering,” the wizard insisted, in his heart wanting to agree with the orc.

Brox snorted. “You fought.”

His simple statement completely repudiated Rhonin’s only argument. The wizard
had
fought already and by doing so had made a choice.

But was it the right one? Already the past had been altered, but to what degree?

They moved on in silence, Rhonin in battle with his inner demons and Brox keeping a wary eye out for physical ones. Nowhere did they see any hint of where they might have ended up. At one point Rhonin considered concentrating on the glade and trying to send them both back there. Then he remembered the felbeast and what it had almost done to him.

The woods thickened, eventually becoming a full forest. Rhonin silently cursed, his choice of directions now seeming a poor one. Brox gave no indication of his own opinion, simply chopping away with his enchanted ax whenever the path grew impossible. The ax sliced through everything with such ease that the wizard hoped that his companion would never accidentally cut him with it. Not even bone gave the blade any pause.

The moon vanished, the thick foliage of the surrounding trees completely obscuring the heavens. The path became impossible. After a few more minutes of fruitlessly fighting their way along, the pair decided to turn back. Again, the orc said nothing about Rhonin’s choice.

But when they turned around, it was to find that the way they came had completely
vanished.

Huge trees stood where once the path had been and dense undergrowth around the trunks gave further evidence that this surely was not the right direction. Yet, both orc and human eyed the trees with distrust.

“We came from through there. I know we did.”

“Agreed.” Raising the ax, Brox moved in on the mysterious trees. “And we go back that way, too.”

But as he swung, huge, branchlike hands seized the weapon by the sides of the blade and pulled it up.

Unwilling to relinquish the ax, Brox hung by the handle, the orc’s legs dangling as he sought to use his weight to wrest the weapon free.

Rhonin ran up. He tugged on the orc’s feet with no success. Staring at the long, inhuman fingers, he began to mutter a spell.

Something struck him from behind. The wizard stumbled forward and would have soundly hit the tree before him if not for the fact that it
moved
aside at the last moment.

Momentum sent Rhonin flailing to the earth. However, instead of striking either harsh ground or one of the many gnarled roots around him, he landed atop something softer.

A body.

Rhonin gasped, assuming that he had come across a previous victim of the sinister trees. But as he pushed himself up, a brief glimmer of moonlight that somehow had penetrated the vast crowns above allowed him to see the face.

Malfurion…

The night elf suddenly moaned. His eyes flickered open and he saw the wizard.

“You—”

Further back, Brox shouted something. Both human and night elf quickly looked that way. Rhonin raised a hand in preparation for attack, but Malfurion surprised him by seizing his wrist.

“No!” The dark-skinned figure sat up, quickly scanning the trees. He nodded to himself, then shouted, “Brox! Do not fight them! They mean no harm!”

“No harm?” growled the orc. “They want my ax!”

“You must do as I say! They are protectors!”

From the warrior came a reluctant groan. Rhonin looked at Malfurion for explanation, but received none. Instead, the night elf released the wizard’s wrist, then pushed himself to his feet. With Rhonin trailing behind, Malfurion walked calmly toward the area where Brox battled.

They found the orc surrounded by ominous-looking trees. A cluster of branches hung above and in them was tangled Brox’s ax. The orc panted from effort, his body still tense. He looked from his companions to his weapon and back again, as if still not certain he should not try to climb after it.

“Knew your voice,” he grunted. “You better be right.”

“I am.”

As the wizard and the warrior watched, Malfurion stepped up to the tallest of the trees and said, “I give thanks to the brothers of the forest, the keepers of the wild. I know you watched over me until my friends could find me. They mean no harm; they just did not understand.”

The leaves of the trees began to rustle even though Rhonin could feel no wind.

Nodding, the night elf continued, “We will trouble you no longer.”

More rustling…then the branches entangling Brox’s ax separated and the weapon slipped earthward.

They could have let the ax fall harmlessly to the ground, but the orc suddenly stepped forward. He reached up with one powerful hand and caught the ax handle perfectly. Yet, instead of waving the weapon at the trees, he knelt before them, the blade turned downward.

“I ask forgiveness.”

Again, the crowns of the towering trees shook. Malfurion put a hand on the orc’s broad shoulder. “They accept.”

“You can really speak with them?” Rhonin finally asked.

“To a point.”

“Then ask them where we are.”

“I already have. Not at all that far from where we were, but far enough away. Actually, we’re both fortunate and unfortunate.”

“How so?”

The night elf smiled ruefully. “We’re only a short distance from my home.”

This was excellent news to the wizard, but not such good news to the night elf, he gathered. Nor did it seem good news to Brox, who cursed in his native tongue.

“What is it? What do the two of you know?”

“I was captured close to here, wizard,” growled the brawny warrior. “Very close.”

Recalling his own capture, Rhonin could see why Brox might be upset. “I’ll take us from here, then. This time I know what to expect—”

Malfurion held up a hand in protest. “We were fortunate once, but here, you risk being sensed immediately by the Moon Guard. They have the skill to usurp your spell…in fact, they may have, at the very least, already sensed the first one.”

“What do you suggest?”

“As we are near my home, we should make use of it. There are others who could be of assistance to us. My brother and Tyrande.”

Brox embraced his suggestion. “The shaman…she will help.” His tone darkened. “Your twin…yes.”

Rhonin still worried about Krasus, but with no notion as to how to find his former mentor, the night elf’s decision made the most sense. With Malfurion in the lead, the trio headed off. The path through the forest now proved startlingly easy, considering the trek through which the human and the orc had earlier suffered. The landscape seemed to go out of its way to make Malfurion’s journey a comfortable one. Rhonin knew something of druids and for the first time marked Malfurion as of that calling.

“The demigod—Cenarius—he taught you to speak with the trees, to cast such spells?”

“Yes. I seem to be the first to truly understand them. Even my brother prefers the power of the Well to the ways of the forest.”

At mention of the Well, a feeling of anticipation and hunger suddenly touched Rhonin. He fought the emotions down. The Well that his companion had mentioned could only be the Well of Eternity, the fabled fount of power. Were they that near? Was that why his own spellwork had become magnified?

To wield such power…and so readily…

“We’re not much farther,” Malfurion said a short while later. “I recognize that gnarled elder.”

The “elder” he referred to was a twisted old tree that, to Rhonin at least, looked like little more than a dark shape. Something else, however, attracted the wizard’s attention.

“Do I hear rushing water?”

The night elf sounded more cheerful. “It flows very near my home! Only a few more minutes and—”

But before he could finish, the forest filled with armored figures. Brox snarled and made ready with his ax. Rhonin readied a spell, certain that these were the same foul attackers who had first seized Krasus and him.

As for Malfurion, the night elf looked entirely perplexed at the sudden appearance of the attackers. He started to raise a hand toward them, then hesitated.

Malfurion’s hesitation caused Rhonin in turn to pause. That proved a mistake, for in the next instant a red shroud of energy fell upon each. Rhonin felt his muscles freeze and his strength fade. He could not move, could not do anything but watch.

“An excellent piece of work, lad,” proclaimed a commanding voice. “ ’Tis the beastman we sought—and no doubt those who aided in his escape!”

Someone replied, but too low for Rhonin to make out the words. A band of riders, two bearing glowing emerald staffs, entered the circle of soldiers. At their head was a bearded night elf who had to be the one in charge. Next to him—

Rhonin’s eyes widened, the only response left to him in his present condition. It hardly signified his astonishment upon recognizing the figure next to the commander.

The garments were different and the hair was bound back, but there was no mistaking that the dour face was an exact duplicate of Malfurion’s.

EIGHTEEN

M
annoroth was pleased…and that pleased

Lord Xavius.

“It is good, then?” the night elf asked the celestial commander. So much hinged on everything going as planned.

Mannoroth nodded his heavy, tusked head. His wings stretched and folded in satisfaction. “Yes…very good. Sargeras will be pleased.”

Sargeras.
Again the celestial commander had uttered the true name of the great one. Xavius’s magical eyes burned bright as he savored it.
Sargeras.

“We will work the portal the moment that the spell is set in place. First will come the host, then, when all is made ready, my lord himself…”

Hakkar approached, the much subdued Houndmaster falling on one knee before Mannoroth. “Forgive thisss interruption, but one of my huntersss hasss returned.”

“Only
one?”

“Ssso it ssseems.”

“And what have you learned from it?” Mannoroth loomed over his counterpart, making the Houndmaster seem smaller and smaller.

“They found two with the ssscent of othernessss that the lord night elf ssspoke of, plusss one of hisss
own
kind with them! But in the hunt they alssso fell afoul of a being of power…great power.”

For the first time, Mannoroth displayed a slight hint of uncertainty. Xavius noted carefully the reaction, wondering what could disturb so wondrous a being. “Not—”

Hakkar quickly shook his head. “I think not. Perhapsss with a touch of their power. Perhapsss a guardian left behind.”

The pair spoke of something significant, but what, the counselor could not say. Taking a risk, he interrupted. “Is there a description of this last creature?”

“Aye.” Hakkar held out one hand, palm up.

Above his palm there suddenly burst to life a tiny image. It moved violently and often lost focus, but revealed by bits and pieces an almost full view of the one in question.

“Ssseen through the eyesss of the felbeassst. An antlered entity asss tall asss one of the Fel Guard.”

Lord Xavius frowned. “The legend is true, then…the forest lord is real…”

“You know this creature?” Mannoroth demanded.

“Ancient myth speaks of the forest lord, the demigod Cenarius. He is said to be the child of the Mother Moon…”

“Nothing more, then.” The tusked mouth twisted into a grim smile. “He will be dealt with.” To Hakkar, he commanded, “Show the others.”

The Houndmaster quickly obeyed, revealing a green-skinned brute of warrior, a young night elf, and an odd, fire-haired figure clad in hooded garments.

“A curious trio,” Xavius remarked.

Mannoroth nodded. “The warrior shows much promise…I would see more of his kind, learn their potential…”

“Such a beast? Surely not! He’s more grotesque than a dwarf!”

The winged figure did not argue, instead recalling the last of the threesome. “A spindly creature but with wary eyes. A creature of magic, I think. Almost like a night elf—” He cut off Xavius’s new protest. “—but not.” Dismissing Hakkar’s images, the huge, reptilian limbs maneuvered through the chamber as Mannoroth contemplated what he had learned.

“More felbeastsss could be sssent to find them,” suggested the Houndmaster.

“But with Fel Guard behind. This time, the objective will be capture.”

“Capture?” echoed both the counselor and the Houndmaster.

The deepset eyes narrowed more. “They must be studied, their weaknesses and strengths assessed in case there are others…”

“Can the Fel Guard be ssspared?”

“There will soon be many, many more. Lord night elf, are your Highborne prepared?”

Studying the sorcerers, Xavius bowed his head. “They are ready to do what they must to see the glorious fulfillment of our dream, the cleansing of the world of all that is—”

“The world will be cleansed, lord night elf, you may trust to that.” Mannoroth glanced at Hakkar. “I leave the hunt to you, Houndmaster. Do not fail again.”

Keeping low, Hakkar backed away.

“And now, lord night elf…” the towering being continued, gaze turning to the place of casting. “Let us begin the molding of your people’s future…” Mannoroth’s wings flexed as they always seemed to do when he contemplated something agreeable to him. “A future I promise you that they cannot possibly even imagine…”

 

Deathwing soared over the landscape, breathing fire everywhere. Screams came from every direction around Krasus, but he could not find any of those who pleaded for his aid. Trapped in his tiny mortal form, he scampered over the burning earth like a field rat, trying to keep from being engulfed while in vain he sought to help the dying.

Suddenly a dark shadow covered the area over which he ran and a thundering voice mocked, “Well, well! And what little morsel is this?”

Huge claws twice the size of the dragon mage encircled Krasus, trapping him. With no effort whatsoever, they dragged him into the sky…and turned him to face the malevolent visage of Deathwing.

“Why, it’s only a bit of old dragon meat! Korialstrasz! You’ve been around the lesser races much too long! Their weakness has rubbed off on you!”

Krasus tried to cast a spell, but from his mouth emerged not words but tiny bats. Deathwing inhaled, drawing the bats mercilessly into the hot, gaping maw.

The black behemoth swallowed. “Not much of a treat! I doubt you’ll be any better, but you’re already going to waste so I might as well finish you off!” He raised the flailing figure above his gullet. “Besides, you’re of no use to anyone, anyway!”

The claws released Krasus, but as he plummeted into Deathwing’s mouth, things changed. Deathwing and the burning landscape vanished. Krasus suddenly floated in the midst of a horrendous sandstorm, spun around and around by its ever more turbulent forces.

A dragon’s head formed in the midst of the storm. At first Krasus thought that the black beast had followed him, determined not to let his snack escape. Then another head identical to the first appeared, followed by another and another until an endless horde filled Krasus’s view.

“Korialstraaaasz…” they moaned simultaneously over and over. “Korialstraaasz…”

It occurred to Krasus then that the heads had a different shape to them from Deathwing’s and that each had formed from the sandstorm itself.

Nozdormu?

“We…are ssstretched through all!” the Timeless One managed. “We…ssseee alll…”

Krasus waited, knowing that Nozdormu spoke as his efforts permitted him.

“All endsss lead to nothing! All endsss…”

Nothing?
What did he mean? Did he indicate that all the mage had feared had come to pass, that the future had been eradicated?

“…but one…”

One! Krasus seized hold of the tiny ray of hope. “Tell me! What path? What do I do?”

In answer, the dragon heads changed. The snouts shrank and the heads elongated, becoming more human—no! Not human—elven…

A night elf?

Was this someone he should fear or someone he should seek? He tried to ask Nozdormu, but then the storm grew wild, mad. The winds tore apart the faces, scattering the grains of sand everywhere. Krasus tried to protect his body as sand ripped at his flesh even through his garments.

He screamed.

* * *

And sat up a moment later, his mouth still open in a silent scream.

“My queen, he is with us again.”

Gradually Krasus’s mind returned to reality. The nightmare involving Deathwing and the subsequent vision of Nozdormu still wreaked havoc with his thoughts, but he was at last able to focus enough to realize that he lay in the egg chamber where he and Alexstrasza had first spoken. The Queen of Life herself looked down in grave concern at him. To his right, his younger self also watched with worry.

“Your spell has passed?” Alexstrasza quietly inquired.

This time, he was determined that she would know regardless of the consequences. Nozdormu’s frightening words indicated that the path to the future already had all but shut. What more trouble, then, would it be if he told her of Neltharion’s madness and the horror the black dragon would cause?

But once more, when Krasus tried to speak of the fiend, the vertigo nearly did him in. It was all he could do to keep conscious.

“Too soon,” cautioned Alexstrasza. “You need more rest.”

He needed much more than that. He needed the sinister and subtle spell which the Earth Warder had evidently cast upon him removed, but clearly none of the Aspects had even recognized his condition as one caused by sorcery. In all his incarnations, Deathwing had always been the most cunning of evils.

Unable to do anything about the black dragon, Krasus’s mind drifted to the night elf whose features Nozdormu had attempted to show him. He recalled the ones who had attacked Rhonin and him, but none had looked at all like this new figure.

“How far are we from the land of the night elves?” Krasus asked…then touched his mouth in surprise when he realized that the words had come out with no trouble. Apparently Neltharion’s handiwork only involved the dragon himself, not any other matter of importance.

“We can take you there soon enough,” his mate replied.

“But what of the matter of which you spoke?”

“This…this still concerns that matter, but my course has changed. I believe…I believe I have just been contacted by the Timeless One, who tried to tell me something.”

His younger self found this too much. “You had nightmares, delusions! We heard you moan several times. It is doubtful that the Aspect of Time would reach out to you. Alexstrasza, perhaps, but not you.”

“No,” corrected the red queen. “I believe he may have the truth of it, Korialstrasz. If he says that Nozdormu touched his thoughts, I suspect he states fact.”

“I bow to your wisdom, my love.”

“I must go to the night elves,” Krasus insisted. With Korialstrasz nearby and no intention of mentioning Neltharion’s duplicity, his condition had improved much. “There is one I seek. I hope I am not already too late.”

The female leviathan tilted her head to the side, her eyes seeking within Krasus’s own. “Is all you told me before still truth? All of it?”

“It is…but I fear there is much more. The dragons—all dragons—will be needed for a struggle.”

“But with Nozdormu absent, a consensus cannot be reached. The others will not agree to anything!”

“You must convince them to go against tradition!” He forced himself to his feet. “They could very well be all that stands between the world and oblivion!”

And with that, he told both all he could recall of the horror of the Burning Legion.

They listened to his tales of blood, of decimation, of soulless evil. Even the two dragons shook as he regaled them with the atrocities. By the time he had finished, Krasus had told more than enough for them to see his fear.

But even then, Alexstrasza said, “They may still not decide. We have watched the world, but we leave its progress in the hands of the younger races. Even Neltharion, who is warder of the earth itself, prefers to leave it that way.”

He so much desired to tell her of Neltharion, but even thinking that made his head swim. With a reluctant nod, Krasus said, “I know you will do what you must.”

“And you must do what you will. Go to the night elves and seek your answer if you think it will help this situation.” She looked up at her consort. After a moment’s consideration, the queen added, “I ask that you go with him, Korialstrasz. Will you do it?”

The male lowered his head in respect. “If you ask, I am only too glad to oblige.”

“I also ask that you follow his lead, my consort. Trust me when I say that he has wisdom which will be of value to you.”

It was not entirely clear from his reptilian visage whether or not Korialstrasz believed the last, but he nodded to that, too.

“Night has fallen,” Alexstrasza informed Krasus. “Will you wait until light?”

The dragon mage shook his head. “I have already waited far too long as it is.”

 

The first to bear the clan designation of Ravencrest had looked upon the huge, granite formation atop the high and treacherous mount. He had remarked to his companion how its stocky formation resembled a piece from a chessboard, a rook colored black. That huge, dark birds constantly circled about the formation and even nested atop it was taken as a sign that this was a special place, a place of power.

For more than a generation—and the generations of night elves were longer than those of most races—servants of the Ravencrest line had continually carved out the clan stronghold, gradually building from solid rock a fortress like none seen among their kind. Black Rook Hold, as it quickly became known, was an ominous, uncolored place which spread its influence over much of the night elf realm, becoming second only to the palace. When conflict arose between the night elves and the dwarves, it was the power of Black Rook Hold that tipped the balance. Those of the clan of Ravencrest became the honored of the throne and the blood of both sides intermingled. If the Highborne who served Azshara were jealous of any others of their race, it had to be those of the ebony fortress.

Windows had been carved out on the top floors of the hold, but the only way to enter was by the twin iron gates located not at the base of the structure, but at the very bottom of the hill. The solid gates were sealed shut and well guarded. Only fools would have thought to enter there without permission.

But for the present Lord Ravencrest, those gates had opened readily. They had also opened for his three prisoners, one of whom knew the stories of Black Rook Hold and grew worried.

Malfurion had never thought that he would enter the dark hold, especially under such dire conditions. Worse, he could never have imagined his twin being the main reason for his having to do so. In the course of their journey he had learned that it was Illidan, somehow suddenly associated with Lord Ravencrest, who had detected Rhonin’s spell. With Malfurion’s brother to aid him, the night elven commander had ridden out with a full force, determined this time to capture any invaders.

He had been most pleased to see Brox…and quite puzzled to see Illidan’s twin.

BOOK: The Well of Eternity
3.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Royal Airs by Sharon Shinn
Bystander by James Preller
Never, Never by Brianna Shrum
Mistress of Mourning by Karen Harper
The Deal by Elizabeth, Z.
Andromeda’s Choice by William C. Dietz
The Eichmann Trial by Deborah E Lipstadt