The Well of Eternity (28 page)

With deadly accuracy, the bolts struck the huge warriors near the portal.

The demons were tossed about like leaves in a storm. Several crashed against the walls while two collided with the sorcerers who kept working on the portal. That, in turn, threw the latter’s efforts into near chaos. The portal heaved as if breathing raggedly, opening and closing in mad fashion.

The Highborne sorcerers struggled to keep the portal under control. Several demons about to step through suddenly vanished back into the darkness within.

One of the larger, winged figures standing near the opening charged in the direction of Malfurion. The huge demon obviously could not see the night elf, but swung about with its weapon in the clear hope of striking something. Malfurion tried to avoid the weapon as best he could, not at all certain that he was immune to it.

Lord Xavius had ducked away from his reversed spell, but now the counselor returned to the fray. From a pouch at his side, he removed yet another crystal.

“From this one, you shall not escape…”

The magical eyes flared.

Moving quickly, Malfurion set the demon between himself and the counselor. Instead of his intended victim, the advisor drew in the startled demon. The brutish figure roared its rage at such trickery and grasped in vain in the general direction of Malfurion before being sucked into the crystal.

Xavius swore and tossed the crystal aside, caring little for the fate of its contents. All his attention remained focused on the ghostly form that only he could see.

“My lord!” cried one of the sorcerers. “Shall we—”

“Do nothing! Keep at the task at hand! The portal must remain open and the shield must keep intact! I
will
deal with our invisible intruder!”

That said, Xavius prepared to cast again. Malfurion, however, had no intention of waiting for him. He turned and darted from the chamber, passing through the outer door without so much as a glance from the wary sentries.

The furious counselor immediately rushed after him. “Open the door!”

The guards obeyed. Xavius rushed out of the chamber and down the steps in pursuit of his adversary.

But Malfurion had not fled downstairs, instead floating within an inner wall of the tower. There, unseen by the lord counselor, he waited until he was certain the trouble had passed.

Returning to the chamber, Malfurion immediately drifted to the array. He had to destroy it quickly, before the Highborne had the chance to reinforce it.

However, as he reached for it, a familiar dread returned to him. Malfurion shivered and, despite himself, looked toward the portal.

You will not touch the shield…
the terrible presence within uttered in his mind.
You do not wish to. You wish only to serve me…to worship me…

Malfurion fought the urge to give in to that voice. He knew what would happen to everyone if the one who spoke had the chance to enter the world. All the evil unleashed by the demons so far paled in comparison to what commanded them.

I…will…not be one of your pawns!
Almost screaming from effort, Malfurion tore his gaze from the vortex.

He could feel the dread figure’s fury as he sought to recover. The evil within could not affect him directly other than to play with his thoughts. Malfurion had to ignore him, think only of those he cared about and what failure meant to them.

Just a few seconds more—

His dream form twisted, suddenly wracked by incredible pain. He spun around, falling to his knees.

“No more games…” muttered Lord Xavius, standing at the doorway. Near him, several perplexed guards searched in vain for the enemy with whom he spoke. “No more near disasters! I will rend your spirit form to shreds, scatter your essence over the world…and only then will I give you to the great one to do with as he pleases…”

He pointed at Malfurion.

More and more the Burning Legion crushed the lines of the night elves. Lord Ravencrest kept his followers from being ripped apart, but they continued to give ground.

A fierce battering ram created by Rhonin plowed into the demons, tossing several back and digging deep into the horde. It slowed them in that one place, but everywhere else the Legion continued to advance.

From somewhere, Rhonin heard Lord Ravencrest shouting orders. “Strengthen that right flank! Archers! Take out those winged furies! Latosius, get your Moon Guard back!”

It was hard to say if the senior sorcerer heard the noble’s command, but, either way, the Moon Guard remained where they were. Latosius stood at the forefront, ordering this spellcaster or that to deal with various situations. Rhonin grimaced. The elder night elf had no concept of tactics. He wasted what little might his group had on several minuscule attacks rather than on one concerted effort.

Illidan saw this, too. “The damned old idiot’s making no use of them at all! I could lead them better!”

“Forget them and concentrate on your own spells—”

But even as the wizard said this, Latosius suddenly reeled. He grabbed at his throat and slumped over, blood pouring from his mouth. His skin blackened and he collapsed, clearly dead already.

“No!” Rhonin surveyed the Legion, found the warlock, and pointed.

Using the trick unleashed earlier by perhaps this same demon, Rhonin seized several arrows in flight and sent them hurtling down upon the warlock. The robed figure glanced up, saw the bolts, and simply laughed. He gestured in a manner Rhonin assumed created a defensive shield around him.

The Eredar ceased laughing when each bolt not only penetrated his shield, but went
through
his torso.

“Not as strong as you think, are you?” muttered the wizard in grim satisfaction.

Rhonin turned again to Illidan—only to find the latter gone. He looked around, found the determined young night elf riding madly toward the Moon Guard, who seemed in complete disarray without their leader.

“What does he—?” But Rhonin had no time to worry about his would-be protégé, for incredible heat suddenly surrounded him. He felt as if his skin were about to melt.

The Eredar warlocks had finally identified him as a major threat. More than one certainly had to be attacking him. He managed to summon enough strength to momentarily ease the incredible heat, but no more. Slowly, they were cooking him alive.

So this was it. Here he would die, never knowing if his part in this battle would keep history more or less intact or destroy it utterly.

Then…the intense pressure on him all but ceased. Rhonin reacted instinctively, using his magic to completely counter the remaining danger. His eyes cleared and he finally managed a fix on the key spellcaster.

“You like fire? I’d like it a little cooler.”

The wizard reversed the spell cast upon him, sending at its user an intense wave of cold.

Rhonin sensed the bitter chill overwhelm the warlock. The Eredar stiffened, turning a pale white. His expression contorted, freezing in mid-agony.

One of the Fel Guard bumped the warlock. The frozen figure toppled, striking the hard ground with a harsh crash and scattering bits of iced demon over the battlefield.

Trying to catch his breath, Rhonin looked to the Moon Guard, the direction from which he had felt aid come. His eyes widened as he saw Illidan at their head.

The young night elf smiled his way, then turned back to the struggle. He directed the veteran sorcerers as if born to it. Illidan had them aligning in arrays that magnified what little strength they had through
him.
He, in turn, drew forth their power, thereby increasing the intensity of his own spells.

An eruption in the midst of the Burning Legion destroyed scores of demons there. Illidan let out a triumphant cheer, unaware of the strain now on the faces of the other sorcerers. He had used their power to good effect, but if he repeated such steps too often, the Moon Guard would burn out one by one.

But there was nothing Rhonin could do to let Illidan know that and, in truth, he was not all that certain he should try. If the defenders fell here, who else was there?

If only Malfurion had not failed…

Mannoroth looked upon the battlefield and was pleased. His host swept across the land—not just where they encountered no resistance, but even where the puny inhabitants of this world had quickly decided to meet the Legion in battle.

He appreciated their effort to bring this struggle to a close so soon. It meant paving the way sooner for his master, Sargeras. Sargeras would be pleased with all that had been accomplished in his name. He would reward Mannoroth well, for the demon had managed this feat without having had to ask for the aid of Archimonde.

Yes, Mannoroth would be rewarded well, receiving more favor, more power, among the Legion.

As for the night elves who had so far aided the demons in their endeavor to take this world, they would receive the only reward Sargeras ever gave to such…

Utter annihilation.

M
alfurion thought he had outfoxed Lord

Xavius, but once again, it was the young night elf who had played the fool. What had made him think that the counselor would continue to hunt for him through the stairways and corridors when clearly Malfurion would want to return to the tower and complete his mission?

It would be his final mistake. Lord Xavius was a gifted sorcerer with the power of the Well upon which to draw. Malfurion had learned much from his shan’do, but not enough, it seemed, to stand up to such a deadly foe.

And Lord Xavius was aware of that as well.

Yet, in Malfurion’s head suddenly came a voice…not the voice from within the portal, but rather that of the mysterious Krasus, who Malfurion had long thought had abandoned him.

Malfurion…our strength is your strength…as you did in the crystal, draw upon the love and friendship of those who know you…and draw from the determination of those like myself, who stand with them for you.

Not all of what he said made perfect sense to the night elf, but the essence of it was clear. He sensed not only Tyrande and Krasus, but also Brox now. The three opened up their minds, their souls to Malfurion, giving to him whatever strength he needed.

You are a druid, Malfurion, perhaps the first of your kind. You draw from the world, from nature…and are not we all a part of both? Draw from us as well…

Malfurion obeyed…and just barely in time.

Lord Xavius cast his spell.

It should have left little trace of Malfurion’s dream self. The younger night elf raised his hand to ward off the evil attack, but he did not expect his powers to be sufficient even now. The counselor’s previous assault had weakened him badly.

But the spell never struck. The attack was dismissed as easily as if Malfurion had brushed away a gnat from his face.

Rise up!
Krasus urged.
Rise up and do what must be done!

He did not mean that Malfurion should do battle with the counselor. That would be a dangerous waste of time. Instead, the night elf had to finish what he had started.

Malfurion struck at the shield spell.

The array shifted out of sequence. Two of the Highborne hurried to adjust it, but the floor beneath their feet suddenly gave way as the stones there acted on Malfurion’s silent request to cease their natural tendency to be strong and hold things together. With a scream, the pair dropped from sight.

Lord Xavius struck angrily at Malfurion, enshrouding him in a vapor that clung to the latter’s dream form and tried to eat away at it. Malfurion struggled at first, but the combined strength of Tyrande, Brox, and Krasus steeled him again. He quickly summoned a wind that assailed the vapor, scattering it.

But while Malfurion dealt with the vapor, Xavius took the opportunity to restore the shield spell to some order. He then turned toward his adversary, his next intent obvious.

Malfurion grew frustrated. This could not go on indefinitely. Eventually, he would either lose or be forced to flee. Something had to change…and quickly.

He spun, but not toward either the array or Lord Xavius.

Instead, Malfurion now faced the portal.

Again he called upon the wind, this time asking it to prove it was strong enough to push about more than simple vapor. Malfurion eyed the Highborne in particular, daring the wind to show what it could do.

And within their sanctum, the sorcerers suddenly found themselves assaulted by a gale. Three of their number were quickly thrown across the chamber, where they struck the opposing wall hard. As they fell, another stumbled away from the pattern, then tumbled over one of the still forms.

The rest bent low, seeking to keep from the wind’s full wrath. Yet, despite no more falling prey, it was clear that the losses already suffered had put a strain on the survivors, for the portal shimmered and twisted dangerously. The sense of evil that Malfurion had felt lessened.

Fiery hands suddenly seized him by the the back of the neck, throttling Malfurion. They burned into Malfurion’s dream form as if into his own flesh, causing him to unleash a scream that, despite its intensity, only his attacker could hear.

“The power of the great one is with me!” roared the queen’s advisor with much satisfaction. “You are no match for us both!”

Indeed, Malfurion felt the evil reaching out again from the shifting portal. While still not as potent as when it had sought to turn him to the Highborne’s side, it added much to the counselor’s already fearsome might. Against it, even the strength Malfurion received from the three proved insufficient.

Tyrande…
He did not try to summon the priestess, only feared in his mind that he might never see her again, never be near her.

The voice of Krasus suddenly filled his head again.
Courage, druid…there is another of us who has been waiting for just this moment.

A fourth presence intruded, immediately adding itself to those strengthening Malfurion. Like Krasus, it was a being far superior to a mere night elf. He sensed a weakness in it, but compared to any of Malfurion’s own kind, such weakness was minute, laughable. Oddly, it almost felt as if the new presence was the twin of Krasus, for they were so much alike in feel that at first he had some trouble differentiating between the pair.

Even the new voice in his head reminded him much of Krasus.
I am Korialstrasz…and I freely give what I have.

Their gifts were those with which life, nature, had endowed them. The added presence of Korialstrasz multiplied Malfurion’s will a hundredfold, giving him hope such as he had never had.

You are a druid…
Krasus reminded him yet again.
The world is your strength.

Malfurion felt invigorated. Now he sensed not only his distant companions, but the stones, the wind, the clouds, the earth, the trees…
everything.
Malfurion was nearly overwhelmed by the fury the world radiated now. The evil thus far perpetrated by the Highborne and the demons offended the elements as nothing ever had before.

I promised I would do what I could,
he said to them.
Grant me your strength as well and it will be done!

To Malfurion, this took place over what felt like an eternity, but when he at last glanced at Lord Xavius, he saw that only a second at most had perhaps passed. The counselor stood almost as if frozen, his expression sluggishly altering as he prepared, with the power of his master behind him, to finally destroy his ghostly adversary.

Malfurion smiled at the other night elf’s folly. He raised his hands to the hidden sky and called upon its might.

Outside, thunder roared. The Highborne around the portal and the array faltered again, aware that this was not a part of their work. Even Lord Xavius frowned.

And suddenly the palace tower shook—then
exploded.

Captain Varo’then knelt before Azshara, his helmet carried in the crook of his arm. “You summoned me, my glorious queen?”

Two of Azshara’s servants brushed her luxurious hair, something she had them do several times a day to keep it fluffed and perfect. While they performed this task, she amused herself with sampling the exotic scents brought to her recently by traders.

“Yes, captain. I wondered what that noise was coming from above. It sounded as if it originated from the tower. Is there some trouble of which I have not been informed?”

The male night elf shrugged. “None that I am aware of, Light of a Thousand Moons. Perhaps it is the prelude to the great Sargeras’s entrance.”

“You think so?” Her eyes lit up. “How wonderful!” She waved him off. “In that case, I should be prepared! Surely we are in for a wonderful event!”

“As you say, Glory of Our People. As you say.” The captain rose, replacing his helmet on his head. He hesitated.

“Would you like me to investigate, just to be certain?”

“No, I am certain you are correct! By all means do
not
bother Lord Xavius!” Azshara sniffed another vial. The scent made her blood race in ways she enjoyed. Perhaps she would wear
this
one when she met the god. “After all, I am certain the good counselor has everything in hand.”

* * *

The top half of the tower chamber had been sheared off, the lightning bolts sent by the heavens ripping it away and sending the roof and more hurtling into the black Well below.

Several large chunks of stone had collapsed into the room, killing two of the Highborne and scattering most of the rest. The shield array and the portal still stood…but both had been badly weakened.

Shrieking winds tore at those within. One sorcerer thrown near the edge by the blasts made the mistake of rising. The winds caught his robed form, carrying him backward.

With a pathetic shriek, he followed the top of the tower down into the Well.

An intense downpour battered at the survivors. Still struggling to keep their spells intact, the Highborne fell to their knees. This did little to preserve them, though, so severe was the storm.

Only two figures remained untouched by the elements. One was Malfurion, his dream form allowing the wind and rain to pass through harmlessly. The other was Lord Xavius, protected not only by the power he drew from the Well, but by the evil still managing to leak through from the dark vortex.

“Impressive!” shouted the counselor. “If, in the end, futile, my young friend! You have but the power of the Well upon which to draw…while I also have the might of a god!”

His remarks made Malfurion smile. The lord counselor did not yet realize what he now fought. He assumed that he still simply faced another adept sorcerer.

“No, my lord,” the younger night elf called back. “You have it turned around! For you, there’s only the Well and the supposed might of a demon that
claims
godhood! For me…there’s the power of the world itself as my ally!”

Xavius sneered. “I’ve no more use for your babbling…”

Malfurion felt him summon from the Well such power as surely none before ever had. It jarred the druid for a moment, but then the strength that served Malfurion reassured him.

“You must be stopped,” he declared to the counselor.

“You and the thing you serve must be stopped.”

Whatever spell Lord Xavius intended to cast, Malfurion would never know. Before the counselor could complete it, the elements themselves assailed him. Lightning struck again and again at Xavius, burning him from within and without. His skin blackened and peeled, yet he did not fall.

The rain became a torrent that poured all its might down on Malfurion’s foe. Xavius seemed to melt before the younger night elf’s eyes, flesh and muscle sloughing off—and yet the counselor still strained to reach him.

Then, thunder cracked, thunder so loud that what remained of the tower shook, sending another of the Highborne into the dark waters of the Well. Thunder so loud it shook Malfurion himself to his very being.

Thunder so loud that Lord Xavius, counselor to the queen and highest of the Highborne—
shattered.

He howled like one of the hellish felbeasts as he exploded, a howl that continued even as the pieces scattered in the air. The cloud of dust that had once been the advisor spun around and around, tossed about by an angry, fearsome wind.

The remaining Highborne finally abandoned their posts, fleeing from the wrath of the one who had bested their feared leader. Malfurion let them depart, knowing that he had depleted himself beyond measure but still needing to deal with one final matter.

With Lord Xavius no longer there to protect it, the shield array collapsed easily. A simple gesture from the young druid finally dismissed the evil spell, removing at last the possible impediment to his people’s survival. He only prayed that it was not already too late.

At last, he returned his attention to the portal.

It was but a faint shadow of itself, a mere hole in reality. Malfurion glared at it, knowing that he could not permanently seal off his world from the evil within…but he could at least give it some respite.

You delay the inevitable…
came the voice he dreaded.
I will devour your world…just as I have so many others…

“You’ll find us a sour treat,” Malfurion retorted.

Once again he unleashed the elements.

The rain washed away the precious pattern over which the portal floated. Bolt after bolt of lightning struck the very center of the hole, forcing that within to retreat further. The wind swirled around the weakened spell, tearing away at it with the intensity of a fierce twister.

And the earth…the earth shook, finally succeeding in breaking up the last bits of foundation left to the high tower.

With no corporeal form, Malfurion had nothing to fear from the collapsing structure. Despite his growing weariness, he watched it all happen, determined to see for himself that there would be no last reprieve.

The floor tipped. Instruments of dark sorcery and pieces of what remained of the walls clattered toward the lower end. A tremendous groan accompanied the collapse.

The tower fell.

As it did, the portal closed in on itself, rapidly shrinking.

A sudden suction caught Malfurion off guard. He felt his dream form pulled by a powerful force toward the vanishing hole.

I will still have you…
came the faint yet baleful voice.

The night elf struggled, urging his dream form away from the gap. Dust flowed through him and into the shrinking portal. Other refuse followed.

The strain became unbearable. He was dragged closer and closer…

Malfurion!
Tyrande called.
Malfurion!

He clung to her call, trying to use it as a tether. Below him, the last of the tower joined the rest in the dark abyss of the Well of Eternity. Only Malfurion and the tiny but malevolent hole remained.

Tyrande!
he silently called. He shut his eyes, trying to picture her, trying to come to her.

I have you…
said a voice he could not identify.