Only the Aspect’s eyes had not changed, save to have adjusted for her size. Broll and Tyrande both instinctively went down on one knee and bent their heads in homage. Although they served other patrons, all honored the Life-Binder.
“Rise up,” she commanded. “I do not seek subjects, but allies…”
Rising, Tyrande solemnly said, “If Elune grants it, what power I wield both with my glaive and through my prayers to her will I offer! I stood with yours against the demons ten thousand years ago and if, as I think, our concerns coincide, I will do so again!”
“They do.” The glorious figure looked to Broll. “And you, druid?
What say you?”
“Our lives are owed to you already, mistress, and you’re sister to She of the Dreaming. I can think of no other reason for you to be here save our own, and so there’s no argument as to whom I lend my hand…”
She nodded gratefully. “My Korialstrasz, my treasured mate, lies in a troubled slumber from which he cannot wake, though I sense he tries. He is far from the only one, my children, as you likely already suspect. Not only are others of my kind affected — though fewer since dragons do not need to sleep as much as most races — but this dread slumber has touched every other race. Worse, it finds particular interest in those of prominence and power: magi, kings, generals, philosophers, and the like.”
“Shandris!” Tyrande breathed.
“If she is one of yours, my child, then her chance is better. The night elves have not suffered to the degree of many races. I find this intriguing. I think that we have another ally, though I am amazed if my guess is correct…”
Before she could say more, a moan arose from the side. Broll glared at Eranikus, who still lay where he had fallen after escaping his corrupted kind. “A better ally than that sorry sight, I hope!
Fleeing for his life after letting others take the lead to a place he better knows—”
The green dragon raised his head. His reptilian features were twisted in a pathetic look. “You do not understand even now, little druid! Did you not see them? Did you not understand what Lethon and Emeriss have become? Did you not also want to flee?”
“Not without any of my friends.”
With another moan, the dragon turned away. “You do not understand…”
Alexstrasza turned to the gigantic beast. Although her expression held no anger, her tone was not one of forgiveness.
“Nor do I, Eranikus…and that in itself says much concerning your actions.” As the green dragon began to protest, the Aspect cut him off. “And, yes, I know what it is like to be a slave to the dark will of something else, a slave responsible for abominable acts.”
Eranikus eyed her, then finally nodded. “So you do.”
“And I also know more about what is happening here than even you do.” She stepped just in front of his immense jaws and, though in her present form was so much tinier than him, stood as the greater over the lesser. “I know that Ysera was aware of your redemption and survival…and aware of your choice at the last moment not to return to her side after all for fear that the Nightmare might yet cause you to someday betray her again.”
His powerful gaze was as nothing to her. Broll, watching, had at first wondered why he did not shut his lids and see her through the ways of his kind. Only now did it occur to the druid that to resume doing so meant Eranikus opening himself up to the Nightmare, the last thing he desired.
“She — knew?” the behemoth finally asked Alexstrasza. “She knew that as I flew to her in the Dream, I sensed the Nightmare calling to me despite the cleansing of my corruption, calling to me with such strength that I understood my renewed confidence was but a false hope?”
“She knew immediately. Yet she loves you so much that she accepted your choice in the hopes that eventually you would still return to her.”
“And now…and now it is too late…she is taken also…”
The Aspect’s own amazing eyes narrowed. “No…not yet.”
Eranikus looked with desperate hope to her. “She is safe?”
“Hardly that.” Alexstrasza extended a hand to include the two night elves. “There is more known to me about the Nightmare than any of you three have thus far learned. It is a danger that Ysera has fought for some time…”
Ysera, the red dragon informed them, had noticed her dreams grow dark, even despite her absolute control of them. At first she had blamed her own concerns but then had discovered the truth too late. The nightmares she experienced touched Azeroth, took lives of their own, and reached into the minds of the mortals there.
It was then that Ysera had made a terrible error of her own. The mistress of the Emerald Dream had looked into the slumbering minds, seeking the source of what had even infiltrated her own subconscious. She did so unaware that the source of the threat desired just that of her.
“Lethon came upon her while her mind was deep in her search beyond,” Alexstrasza told them. “He was accompanied by shadows, the satyrs that these night elves just fought. They fell upon her dreaming form while he took that which was most desired
…the Eye.”
Eranikus jumped to his feet. His gaze became all but impossible for Broll and Tyrande to behold. “The Eye of Ysera taken? I had feared as much! How can you say then that my beloved queen is not prisoner?”
“The Eye is where Ysera and her flight most often congregate in the Dream,” Broll quietly informed Tyrande. “It’s said to be the most idyllic place there. Malfurion’s seen it and I know Fandral, also, but few others even among us druids. I’m told it’s a valley nestled among great, encircling hills. The land is lush and filled with grass and flowers, but the name comes from the magnificent golden dome in the center, where Ysera herself dwells…dwelled…”
The green dragon snorted. “A pale though acceptable description of it, little druid! There is no more perfect place in all creation!” He suddenly moaned. “The Eye taken! Where then is my queen if not captured?!?”
Now Alexstrasza shook her head sadly at his continued rage.
“No. Ysera avoided capture. She is fighting. She, her remaining consorts, and a handful of others fight not only to save themselves, but to seek the truth at the Nightmare’s dark core. She has no intention of letting either her domain or Azeroth fall to this monstrous thing!”
“She is mad! If she falls prey to it, all is ended! The Nightmare felt so powerful, I believed her already taken, but if she seeks its truths and its power, it will make of her something worse than Lethon or Emeriss and, through her, alter both planes into a horror far worse than anything we have thus far experienced!”
“She does what she must do,” Alexstrasza calmly replied. “And I seek to help her as I can. I add my strength to hers from afar, watch over all tentative advances by the Nightmare into this world, seek those who can help…and watch for the corrupted, the unwaking.”
The male dragon finally looked down. In a tone of self-loathing, he muttered, “You do all that for her while she risks herself so and I
…I sit in a cave, hiding from the doom of the world! Hiding from the defense of my love and my queen! I know your Korialstrasz of old just as I know you, Life-Binder! I am not worthy to be in your presence or that of my Ysera…” Alexstrasza almost spoke, but Eranikus shook his head. “But if there is hope of becoming worthy of her, there is but one path for me!”
The great green dragon spun to face the portal. Its energies pulsated softly, innocently.
Eranikus moved toward it. “I no longer sense the Nightmare near. The accursed corruption has shifted again. It is safe for the moment to enter…but beyond that…” He looked to the night elves.
“Your part ends here.”
“No, we go with you,” Tyrande countered. “I do not think our coming together was all chance. Someone seeks to bring together those who best can serve Azeroth and its survival. Nothing happens without reason…”
“Of course, someone does!” Ysera’s consort abruptly responded, expression shifting t
o desperate hope. “It must be my queen! Even with so much no doubt assailing her, she works and plots for our salvation! I should have seen it—”
“Not Ysera. Not my sister,” Alexstrasza sagely interjected. She eyed Tyrande and Broll. “I think another seeks to guide you…and I think it is Malfurion Stormrage himself.”
It comes together, Malfurion dared hope, the archdruid doing all he could to shield those thoughts from his captor. They may suspect
…but that is good so long as he doesn’t…
The dread shadows suddenly stretched over the tree of pain that was the night elf. The insidious presence of the Nightmare Lord surrounded Malfurion and filled his mind and soul.
Have you come to love the agony? Is it so much a part of you that you cannot tell it from yourself?
Malfurion did not respond. There was no point in responding.
Doing so only served his captor.
Keeping counsel with your own thoughts, Malfurion Stormrage? The skeletal tendrils of the shadow tree wrapped around the imprisoned archdruid. Shall we discuss those thoughts
…those dreams…those hopes?
Despite himself, the night elf could not help but be jarred by the last. Did the foul thing know?
Let us share some considerations…let us share some ambitions…
The archdruid buried his thoughts as deep as possible. His plan was near to fruition. There was a chance…
The Nightmare Lord laughed in his head. And, most of all, Malfurion Stormrage, let us talk of foolish dreams of rescue…
13
AT THE EDGE OF NIGHTMARE
The druids were exhausted. They had spent themselves so much that several would not likely be of help for any further casting for days. Their combined might had fed and fed Teldrassil, but with no visible success…at least so far as Hamuul could tell.
As for the tauren himself, he had become a pariah to most of the others, although officially there had been no censure, no condemnation by Archdruid Fandral concerning whatever Broll had done. Fandral had not even informed Hamuul just what the missing druid had done. He had merely eyed the tauren disapprovingly, doing so long enough that the others understood that Hamuul had lost favor.
Naralex and a few others defied the shunning, but Hamuul did his best to steer clear of them out of concern that they, too, would suffer. The aged tauren was willing to shoulder his responsibility in enabling Broll to go unnoticed long enough. He trusted his friend.
Fandral had a right to be angered, though.
The lead archdruid had insisted on keeping them at Teldrassil’s base, far from Darnassus. Only he had thus far returned to the city.
Each time he returned, Fandral pressed the druids in some new fashion. He assured them that they were making progress, that the World Tree was healing.
Hamuul had to assume that he was not an adept-enough archdruid to sense what Fandral did.
The tauren sat cross-legged a bit distant from the rest. The druids were meditating, trying to regain their strength for Fandral’s next spell. Hamuul had never felt so drained in all his life, not even during the weeklong hunt that had been part of his rite of passage from child to adult. That had required fasting during the entire trial.
I am getting old…was his first thought. Yet none of the night elves appeared any stronger than him. Thus far it seemed that the lead archdruid’s plans had done little more than bring every member to the brink of ruin.
Thinking again of Fandral, Hamuul looked for him. However, the other was nowhere to be found. The tauren could only suppose that Fandral had perhaps again returned to the Cenarion Enclave to consult some ancient text. Hamuul hoped that it would provide them with more tangible results than they had achieved thus far.
Finding himself unable to meditate, the tauren rose. Seeing that none of the others paid him any mind, he strode toward the World Tree.
Even though Hamuul had not been one of those in favor of a second such giant, he could not only appreciate the majesty of it, but also Teldrassil’s effect on the world. As a tauren, Hamuul very much believed in the balance between nature and the lives of the various races of Azeroth. That had been why he had sought out Malfurion Stormrage in the first place and asked to be instructed in the druidic arts. And even though Hamuul had only been a druid for a few years, he believed that he had proven himself well.
Otherwise, he would not have risen to become one of the few archdruids and the only one of his kind.
The tauren wished there was more he could do beyond what he had done for Broll. He still felt that Broll’s choice was somehow the right one, despite how it crossed Fandral’s good purposes.
Standing just before Teldrassil, he looked up into the clouds where Darnassus lay. If the portal had been very near, Hamuul might have been tempted to just walk through it. As it was, his only other choice was to fly…
With a grunt, he leaned with one hand against Teldrassil. There was more he needed to do. If BrollSomeone was whispering.
Hamuul stepped from the tree and looked for the speaker.
However, the whispering immediately ceased.
His thick brow wrinkling in thought, the archdruid neared the trunk once more.
The whispering started up again. Hamuul stared at Teldrassil
…then looked down at his foot. There, the side of his right foot touched one of the World Tree’s roots.
He placed his hand on the trunk.
The whispering filled his head. Hamuul could not understand it. It was not any of the tongues spoken by the intelligent races of Azeroth. Rather, it reminded him of something else, something the tauren should know well —
“Shakuun, guide my spear…” he murmured, blurting a tauren oath. Shakuun had been his father’s father, and tauren called upon their venerated ancestors, who watched over them. The oath as he spoke it was not to be taken literally; Hamuul was asking his grandsire to help him come to grips with what he had discovered.
The archdruid was listening to the voice of Teldrassil.
All druids knew the language of the trees, although some understood it better than others. This was not the first time that Hamuul had touched and listened to the World Tree, but this was the first time he had heard these whispers. The voice of the World Tree was usually heard more in the rustle of its branches and leaves and through the coursing of the sap that flowed as blood up and down the vast trunk. It could be heard as a whisper, but one with understanding.
But Hamuul could make no sense out of what he heard now. The whispers were without proper rhythm, without form. As the archdruid continued to listen, they went on and on as if —
“What is it you do, Hamuul Runetotem?” Fandral’s voice suddenly said.
Smothering his startlement, the tauren turned to the lead archdruid. He had not sensed the night elf approach, which said something for Hamuul’s present state of mind. As a tauren, he prided himself on his belief that his people were the only ones who could truly sneak up on one of Fandral’s race.
Hamuul chose to be honest. This was something Fandral of all druids should know.
But how to explain it best? “I fear…Archdruid Fandral, will you listen to Teldrassil for a moment? I fear that things are worse than we thought! When I touched my hand to the trunk just now—”
The night elf did not wait for him to finish. Fandral placed his palm flat against Teldrassil. He shut his eyes and concentrated.
A few breaths later, the lead archdruid looked at the tauren. “I sense nothing different than before. Teldrassil is not yet well, but there is improvement.”
“‘Improvement’?” Hamuul could not prevent himself from gaping.
“Archdruid, I sensed—”
Fandral, his expression sympathetic, interjected, “You are weary, Hamuul, and I have been remiss in my treatment of you. You have a loyalty to a friend who must answer for his recklessness, I fear. It was beneath me, though, to show such disappointment with you when he is to blame.”
“I—”
Fandral raised a hand. “Hear me out, good Hamuul. I have just returned with some knowledge of interest. It will make for a new and stronger attempt to cure what still ails Teldrassil. You, with your strong spirit, would be of tremendous value in that effort, but you need to recoup your strength more. If you fear that there is something more amiss with the World Tree, then this is surely good news to you.”
Bowing his head, the tauren replied, “As you say, Archdruid Fandral.”
“Excellent! Now, come with me. I would tell you more about our next effort. It shall be very exerting. It may take more than a day’s meditation to recover from it…”
Fandral started off. Hamuul could do nothing but follow. Yet even as he listened to the night elf begin to explain, he also looked back at the area he had touched. He had heard the incoherent whispering and he knew that it was the voice of the World Tree.
Had not the lead archdruid also investigated, the tauren would have been even more anxious than he was. Still, enough of a concern remained that Hamuul continued to wonder…and worry.
To Hamuul Runetotem, the whispering meant one and one thing only.
Teldrassil was going mad.
They did not enter the portal immediately, although that had been their intention. Eranikus and Alexstrasza cautiously probed ahead, their powers reaching deep within to see if there still lurked some trap by the corrupted Lethon and Emeriss. Only when they were satisfied that there was not did the dragons agree it was safe for Eranikus and the night elves to proceed.
“About damned time,” Broll muttered. Tyrande nodded, mirroring his opinion. They were both filled with an urgency to find Malfurion.
One particular thing that disturbed both was the missing Lucan Foxblood and this mysterious orc. The orc was likely an accidental intruder, and yet…
“You do not yet comprehend the full threat of the Nightmare,” the green dragon responded with some bitterness. “Be not so desiring of entering it without all preparations made.”
“Time is of the essence.”
Alexstrasza dipped her head in agreement. “So it is, Broll Bearmantle, but if I am correct and Malfurion Stormrage has somehow been trying to help guide you, then he would want matters thought through first.” The dragon smiled grimly. “And we have done that now.”
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