The Well of Eternity (24 page)

His name was Sargeras.

“Sargeras…” she whispered. “Sargeras the god…” An almost childlike smile crossed her face. “…and his consort, Azshara…”

* * *

Messengers arrived at Black Rook Hold at the rate of one every few minutes. All demanded to see the master of the hold immediately, for each had news of import.

And every missive to Lord Ravencrest boiled down to the same dire news.

Sorcery had been all but stolen from the night elves. Even the most skilled could do little. In addition, other spells that constantly relied on drawing from the Well to keep them maintained had failed, in one or two places with catastrophic results. Everywhere, panic ensued and it was all officials could do to keep chaos from erupting.

From the most important place itself, from those regions near Zin-Azshari…there had been no word.

Until now.

The messenger brought in by the sentries could barely stand. His armor had been in part ripped from his body and bloody scars covered his flesh. He staggered before Lord Ravencrest, falling to one knee.

“Has he been given food and water?” the noble asked. When no one could answer, he growled out an order to one of the soldiers standing near the entrance. Within seconds, sustenance was brought for the newcomer.

Among those waiting impatiently were Rhonin and the others. They had gone from being prisoners to some undefinable status. Not allies, but not outsiders. The wizard had chosen to remain silent and in the back of the throng, the better to ensure that his status did not slip back to prisoner.

“Can you speak now?” Ravencrest rumbled to the messenger once the latter had eaten some fruit and drunken almost half a sack of water.

“Aye…forgive me, my lord…for not being able to do so earlier.”

“Judging by your condition, I find it hard to believe you actually even made it here…”

The night elf kneeling before him looked around at the others assembled. Rhonin noted how hollow his eyes had become. “I find it hard to believe I’m here myself…my lord.” He coughed several times. “My lord…I come to tell you…that I believe it…it is the end of our world.”

The flat tone with which he said the last only served to add to its horrific impact. Dead silence filled the chamber. Rhonin recalled what Malfurion had said before.
It’s begun.
Even Malfurion had not understood what he meant, only that he knew that something terrible was taking place.

“What do you mean?” persisted Ravencrest, leaning close. “Did you receive some terrible message from Zin-Azshari? Did they bid you to relay this monstrous announcement?”

“My lord…I come
from
Zin-Azshari.”

“Impossible!” interjected Latosius. “By the best physical means it would take three to five nights and sorcery is not available—”

“I
know
what was available better than you!” snapped the soldier, disregarding the Moon Guard’s high rank. To Lord Ravencrest, he said, “I was sent to plead for help! Those who
could
funneled what little power they could gather to send me here! They may be dead…” He swallowed. “I may be the only one to survive…”

“The city, lad! What of the city?”

“My lord…Zin-Azshari is in ruins, overrun by blood-thirsty fiends, creatures out of nightmare!”

The story flowed from the messenger like a wound beyond sealing. Like all other night elves, those of the capital had been stunned by the abrupt and inexplicable loss of nearly all their power. Many had gone to the palace to seek reassurances. The crowds had swelled to hundreds.

And then from the palace had poured out an endless multitude of monstrous warriors, some horned, some winged, all armed and eager to slaughter those in their midst. In seconds, people had died by the scores, no quarter given. Fear followed and others were trampled by those who sought to escape.

“We ran, my lord, all of us. I can only speak for those who fled in my direction, but even the most hardened warriors did not long stand.”

But the demonic horde followed, catching those who could not keep up the pace. Scattered groups managed to flee out of the city, but even there the fiends hunted them.

No one interrupted his tale. No one argued that he suffered delusions. They all read the truth in his eyes and voice.

The messenger then described how he came to be here. A group of Moon Guard and officers had put their heads together, trying to come up with some defense or course of action. It had been determined that Black Rook Hold had to be informed and by lot that duty had fallen to the soldier present.

“They warned that the spell might not work as planned, that I could instead be sent to the bottom of the Well or even back to the c-city…” He shrugged. “I saw little choice…”

With tremendous strain, the spellcasters had begun their work. He had stood in the middle as they gathered up what little energy they could. The world had begun to fade around him—

And just as he had vanished, he had seen the monstrous hounds leaping upon the party.

“I landed some distance north of here, my lord, battered but alive. It took some time to reach an outpost where I could obtain a night saber…and then I headed to y-you as best I could.”

A much subdued Ravencrest slumped back. “And the palace? The palace, too, is in ruins? All slaughtered there?”

The messenger hesitated, then said, “My lord, there were sentries atop the walls. They watched the people before the gates opened…and then they watched the monsters come out and butcher all of us!”

“The queen would never allow that!” spouted one of the noble’s officers. Others nodded agreement, but many kept their opinions hidden.

Their commander had his own notion as to what such news meant. His expression already grim, he muttered, “It’s as we believed, then. This must be the work of the Highborne.”

“Surely even they would not be so insane!” Latosius argued. “True, their sorcerers think themselves superior even to the Moon Guard, but they are night elves just like us!”

“So we would believe, but their arrogance knows no bounds!” Ravencrest slammed his fist on the arm of his stone chair. “And let us not forget that the Highborne obey the dictates of the lord counselor…Xavius!”

Rhonin had heard the name mentioned prior, but now the venom with which it was repeated stunned him. He leaned by Malfurion, asking, “Who is this Xavius?”

Malfurion had much recovered, thanks in great part to his twin’s aid. With some slight help from Brox, he now stood next to the others. “He who whispers in the queen’s ear. Her most trusted advisor and a rival of Lord Ravencrest. I don’t doubt myself that Xavius is involved, but he couldn’t do this without Azshara’s compliance! Even the Highborne worship her!”

“They’ll never believe that,” Illidan remarked. “Forget that for now! Let them think it’s the counselor! Their choices will still be the same in the end!”

Although he did not exactly trust Illidan, Rhonin had to agree with the other night elf in this regard.

And it seemed that the choice of villains had already been made. Ravencrest stood, shouting to the others in attendance. His officers jammed their helmets on as if ready to go and ride out toward the capital immediately.

“All Moon Guard, all spellcasters of any reasonable ability, should be gathered as quickly as possible! Garo’thal! Send out messengers to every military post and commander! Resistance must be organized! This foul situation must be contained!”

Latosius confronted the noble. “Something must be done to regain the use of the Well! Force of arms alone will not stand against those monsters! You heard the messenger!”

The bearded noble thrust his face into that of the Moon Guard. “I hope to have some sorcery at hand, especially from your vaunted order, but, otherwise, force of arms is all we really have at the moment, isn’t it?”

Illidan suddenly abandoned his brother and the rest. “My lord, I feel I may be of some aid! I still have some ability for casting spells!”

“Splendid! We’ll need it! Zin-Azshari must be avenged, and the queen freed from the Highborne!”

Rhonin could not stand still. He had seen what the Burning Legion could do and, even though this was all in his past, he could not stand by as Krasus hoped. Within him he still sensed the ability to summon magic, use it as he willed. “My Lord Ravencrest!”

The noble looked him over, clearly not yet certain what to make of him. “What do you want?”

“You need someone who can cast spells. I offer myself.”

Ravencrest looked doubtful.

In response, the wizard summoned a ball of blue light over his left palm. It took him more effort than usual, but not enough that he showed that effort.

The commander’s expression of doubt melted away. “Aye, you’re welcome to our ranks—” Out of the corner of his eye, he must have noticed Latosius about to object. “Especially since little else has been offered to us.”

“If whatever spell cuts us off from the Well’s strength can be but removed—”

“Which would require sorcery of some magnitude in the first place…and if you could do that, Moon Guard, we wouldn’t have a problem at all!”

* * *

As he listened to them argue, Malfurion’s heart sank deeper. Such bickering served no good cause. Action was what was called for, but with little in the way of any sort of magic to back up Lord Ravencrest’s intended military force, the future looked dark, indeed. If only—

His eyes widened. Perhaps he could do something.

As his brother and Rhonin had done before him, Malfurion stepped up to the noble. Ravencrest eyed him with some disbelief.

“And now you? You plan to offer sorcery such as Illidan here claims to still wield? I would welcome it if you have it, regardless of your past crimes.”

“I offer not sorcery, Lord Ravencrest, but a magic of a different sort. I offer what has been taught to me by my shan’do, Cenarius.”

Latosius laughed mockingly. “This is the worst jest yet! The teachings of a mythical demigod?”

But Ravencrest did not dismiss Malfurion out of hand. “You truly believe you can be of some aid?”

The younger night elf hesitated, then said, “Yes, but not from here. I need to go somewhere…quieter.”

The noble’s brow furrowed. “Quieter?”

Malfurion nodded. “I must go to the temple of Elune.”

“The temple of the Mother Moon? I hadn’t even thought of them. Their support is definitely needed in this time of crisis—but what do you hope to achieve there?”

Trying to keep his uncertainty hidden, Malfurion Stormrage answered, “The removal of the spell that keeps the Well of Eternity’s power from our sorcerers, of course.”

A
ll was well in the world…for Lord Xavius, anyway.

His dreams, his goals, were well within reach.

Better yet, the great one was quite pleased with him. The shield spell that he and Mannoroth had set into motion had not only succeeded in sealing the Well’s might from all but the Highborne, it had also enabled them to widen and solidify the portal. In the space of only a few scant hours, hundreds of the celestial host had poured through.

Mannoroth had immediately taken control of them, sending them out to purge the unfit. Once, Xavius might have found that idea horrific, but he now fully embraced the ways and methods of Sargeras. The god knew best how to achieve the perfect paradise the counselor sought. Had not the quarter reserved for the homes of the Highborne been completely spared? From those who served the palace would arise the new Golden Age of the night elf race, an era eclipsing any existing prior to it.

Lord Xavius had been granted the further honor of monitoring the work that made all this possible. He kept in delicate balance the spell that constantly regenerated the shield. The labor required had been more than even Mannoroth had planned and if the spell failed now, it would be near impossible to repeat without effectively sealing the portal first and using the combined might of all the Highborne sorcerers.

But Xavius had no intention of letting any disaster befall the precious shield. Not that he expected any trouble. What could happen here in the heart of the palace?

A brooding figure stalked into the chamber, peering around impatiently.

“Where isss Mannoroth?” hissed the Houndmaster.

“He commands the host, of course,” responded the night elf. “He goes to clear Zin-Azshari of the unfit.”

Something in Hakkar’s expression momentarily disturbed Xavius. Almost it seemed that the counselor had said something that the Houndmaster found amusing. What that could be, though, the night elf could not possibly say.

Through the portal materialized four more of the Fel Guard. One of the even more menacing Doomguard stood nearby. He barked something in an unknown tongue to the newcomers, who immediately marched out of the chamber.

The celestial host moved with remarkable military precision, instantly obedient to orders and constantly aware of their duties. Even Captain Varo’then’s elite Guard paled in comparison, at least in Lord Xavius’s mind.

“How fare preparations for the hunt?” the counselor asked Hakkar.

The hint of mockery left the hulking figure’s expression. “It goesss well, lord night elf. My houndsss and the Fel Guard who run with them have their explicit ordersss. Thossse that Mannoroth desssiresss captured will be.”

He turned and stalked out of the room, leaving in his wake an oddly satisfied Lord Xavius. While he much respected the status of the Houndmaster, the night elf now saw himself closer in rank to the great one’s commander.

The counselor looked once again at the spell of which he

had been an integral part. Only a few yards from the portal, the cluster of blue, flashing nodules over the diagram Mannoroth had drawn were the only physical signs of the shield spell. With his magical eyes, however, Xavius could make out other swirling patterns in orange, yellow, green, and more. A powerful cornucopia of magical forces of which he was now in control.

Just as he was now in control of the destiny of not only his own people…but the rest of the world as well.

The temple of Elune did not need to be warned of the catastrophe that had befallen the realm of the night elves. They had not personally been touched by the Well’s loss, but they could still sense the sudden emptiness. When throngs came to the various temples to ask for guidance, the priestesses throughout the realm conversed with one another through methods utilized since the Mother Moon had first touched the heart of her initial convert, discussing what could be done. They chose to invite the people in for mass prayer, let Elune give them comfort. They also searched with their skills in the direction of the Well…but like the Moon Guard, they could not divine just what had happened.

Yet, even though they still retained the gifts granted them by their goddess, that did not mean the priestesses were safe from the horror unleashed soon afterward. When the Legion overran the temples in the capital, even those as far away as Suramar felt the deaths of their sisters there, felt their agonies as the horde slaughtered them without mercy.

“Sister,” one of the other priestesses called to Tyrande, who had been pouring water for the faithful. “There is one at the front entrance who requests to see you.”

“Thank you, sister.” Tyrande handed the jug to another priestess, then hurried off. She could only assume that Illidan had come to see her again. Tyrande dreaded speaking with him, unsure what she would say if he brought up a possible match between them.

Yet, it was not Illidan, but rather another she had not thought to see for a very, very long time.

“Malfurion!” Without realizing what she did, Tyrande threw her arms around him, hugging Malfurion tightly.

His cheeks darkening, he whispered, “It’s good to see you, Tyrande.”

She released him. “How did you come to be here?” A sudden fear arose within her. “Broxigar? What have they done with—”

“He’s with me.” Malfurion pointed behind himself, where Tyrande saw that the orc waited in a dark corner near the entrance. The monstrous warrior looked quite uncomfortable as he eyed the many night elves.

She glanced around but saw no guards other than those of the temple. “Malfurion! What madness brings you here? Did the two of you sneak back into the city just to see me?”

“No…we were captured.”

“But if—”

He gently put a finger to her lips, silencing her. “That story must wait. You know of the terror in Zin-Azshari?”

“Only some…and even that’s too much! Malfurion, the
terror
we felt in the minds and souls of our sisters there! Something dreadful—”

“Listen to me! It spreads beyond the capital even as we speak. What’s worse, now the Moon Guard are helpless against it! Some spell all but cuts off the Well’s power from them!”

She nodded. “So we have surmised…but what does that have to do with your coming here?”

“Is the Chamber of the Moon in use now?”

She thought. “It was earlier, but so many have come for guidance that the high priestess had the main worship chamber opened instead. The Chamber of the Moon may be empty now.”

“Good. We need to go there.” He signaled Brox, who hurried over. To Tyrande’s astonishment, the orc even carried an ax.

“You were captured…” she reminded Malfurion.

“Lord Ravencrest saw no more reason to detain us, providing Brox stayed with me.”

“I owe you both,” reminded the broad-shouldered warrior. “I owe my life.”

“You owe us nothing,” Illidan’s brother returned. To Tyrande he said, “Please take us to the chamber.”

With her in the lead, they headed into the temple. Despite Brox’s attempt to stay as close to his companions as possible, he could not hide his appearance from those night elves gathered inside. Many looked in horror at him and some even screamed, pointing at the orc as if he was the one responsible for their turmoil.

Guards caught up to them just as they neared the Chamber of the Moon. The foremost was the one who had spoken with Tyrande about Illidan.

“Sister…it is the custom to allow any entry into the Mother Moon’s temple, but that creature—”

“Elune says that he does not have the same right as any other believer?”

The sentries looked uncertainly at one another, the first finally replying, “It does not say exactly anything about other races in that regard, but—”

“But are not all the children of Elune? Does he not have the right to come to her for guidance, make use of all facets of the temple?”

There was no answer to this. Finally, the lead guard waved them by. “Just please keep him from sight as much as possible. There is already enough panic out there.”

Tyrande nodded gratefully. “I understand.”

As they entered, they found only two other acolytes in attendance. Tyrande immediately walked up to the pair and explained the need for privacy, pointing specifically at Brox. In truth, the orc’s presence was all that was needed to encourage the other sisters to quickly retreat.

Returning to Malfurion, she asked, “What do you hope to do?”

“I intend to walk the Emerald Dream again, Tyrande.”

She did not like the sound of that at all. “You plan to journey to Zin-Azshari!”

“Yes. There I hope to learn the truth about what has been done to the Well.”

Tyrande knew him better. “You don’t hope to simply learn the truth, Malfurion; I think you intend to
do
something about it…”

Instead of replying, he studied the center of the chamber. “That seems the most tranquil location.”

“Malfurion—”

“I’ve got to hurry, Tyrande. Forgive me.”

With Brox in tow, he walked to the place he had chosen, then seated himself on the ground. Legs folded in, Malfurion looked up into the moonlit sky.

The orc seated himself across from the night elf, but made room when Tyrande joined. Malfurion glanced questioningly at her. “You needn’t stay.”

“If in any way the Mother Moon can help me guide you, protect you from harm, I intend to do so.”

Malfurion gave her a grateful smile, then grew grim again. “I must begin now.”

For reasons beyond her, Tyrande suddenly seized his hand. He did not look at her, his eyes now shut, but briefly the smile returned.

And suddenly Tyrande felt him leaving her.

It had been a quickly devised, desperate plan, one from which Malfurion understood Lord Ravencrest actually expected little result. Yet, with the Moon Guard virtually powerless, he had seen no reason why the upstart young night elf could not at least try.

Now Malfurion only had to hope that he had not made empty promises.

Tyrande’s hand on his own proved invaluable to wending his way into the sleeplike trance. Her touch had comforted Malfurion, eased the incredible tension the horrific events of the past few days had created.

Soothed, he reached out to the world around him, to the trees, river, stones, and more as he had with Cenarius.

Yet, this time he was met not by the tranquil elements of nature—but rather
turmoil.

The world was no longer in balance. The forest knew it, the hills knew it, even the heavens felt the wrongness. Everywhere he focused, Malfurion sensed only disharmony. It struck with such force that for a moment the night elf nearly drowned in it.

Instead, he fixed again on Tyrande’s light touch, drawing peaceful strength from her nearby presence. The discord faded, still there but unable to overwhelm him.

Once more steady, Malfurion reached out to the spirits of nature, touching each and letting them feel his own calm. He understood their turmoil and promised that he would act in their name. The night elf asked in turn that they be there if he needed their assistance, reminding the spirits that both he and they desired a return to the balance.

The sense of discord dwindled more. It would not go away so long as the Highborne meddled with the Well, but Malfurion had at least created some semblance of harmony again.

And with that done, he was able once again to enter the dreamscape safely.

Free from earthly confinement, he paused to gaze down at his friends, especially Tyrande. It was easier this time to summon the images, transpose the reality over the idyllic landscape. Both Brox and Tyrande immediately materialized…as did his own body, of course.

To his surprise, he noted a tear drifting down one of Tyrande’s cheeks. Instinctively, Malfurion reached to wipe it away, only to have his finger pass through it. Yet, as if feeling his nearness, the young priestess reached up with her free hand and not only wiped away the tear, but also touched the area.

Forcing himself to turn away, Malfurion looked to the sky again. He focused on the direction of Zin-Azshari, then stepped up.

The familiar greenish tint permeated everything. Malfurion concentrated, again overlapping the shadow world with elements of reality. With what seemed a combination of half walking, half flying, he drifted over the now-covered dreamscape, sensing the myriad aspects of both the true and subconscious worlds.

But as he journeyed, an unexpected presence caught his attention. At first he doubted his senses, but a quick search verified his first suspicions.

Shan’do?
he called.

Malfurion felt his mentor touch his thoughts, but only in an indistinct manner. However, the touch was enough to convey that Cenarius was well. The last of the felbeasts had been dealt with, but some other matter urgently demanded the demigod’s attention. Malfurion realized that the forest lord had felt the presence of his student in the Emerald Dream and had quickly reached out to let the night elf know that all was not yet lost.

Comforted by Cenarius’s unspoken message, Malfurion moved on. The green haze thinned further and soon he saw the world below almost as he would had he been truly able to fly like a bird. Hills and rivers passed swiftly by as he focused more on his destination.

And as he neared the capital, for the first time Malfurion beheld the horror.

As terrifying as the messenger’s descriptions had been, they had not fully conveyed the monstrous cataclysm that had befallen the fabled city. Much of Zin-Azshari had been razed to the ground as if a great boulder had rolled over it time and again. No building on the outskirts had been left standing. Fire ruled everywhere, but not simply the crimson flames with which Malfurion was familiar. The capital was also awash in foul green or pitch black fire clearly of an otherworldly nature. As Malfurion passed over them, he could feel their evil heat despite being in the dream realm.

Then he caught his first glimpse of the demons.

The felbeasts had been monstrous enough, but the creatures following them sent new chills through him, the more so because they were clearly intelligent. Despite the huge horns, devilish faces, and horrific forms, they moved in concert, with terrible purpose. This was not some mindless horde, but an army dedicated to evil.