The Demon Soul (warcraft)

by Richard A. Knaak

  “Place it upon your chest.”

  After some hesitation, Krasus pulled open the top of his robe, revealing his chest. He heard Malfurion gasp and even Aviana stared at him with wider eyes.

  “So, so, you are indeed one of mine.”

  He had forgotten about the scale. Taken from his younger self, it felt so comforting that he had forgotten it. Briefly he pondered whether he could have used it to somehow penetrate the barrier, but quickly realized that by the time they had reached the area, Neltharion had sealed off the dragons’ domain from all but his own sentinels. The Earth Warder had wanted no one disturbing his final spellwork. “Will your plan still work?” he asked.

  “But of course, but of course! More so now, more so!”

  Placing the feather against a part of his chest that was not covered by the dragon scale, Krasus waited.

  The downy piece adhered much as the scale had. The silky tendrils of the feather spread flat, and as Krasus watched, the tendrils suddenly grew. They reached along his torso, snaking over it in every direction.

  Malfurion looked distraught, but Krasus shook his head. He understood what Aviana intended and welcomed it. The dragon mage’s heart pulsated at twice its normal rate, and he felt the urge to go leaping out of the nest.

  “Not yet, not yet,” warned the demigoddess. “You will know when its work is done, when its work is done.”

  A peculiar sensation spread across his upper back, near the shoulder blades. Krasus felt his garments shift and heard slight rips.

  “There’s something coming out of the back of your robes!” the druid gasped.

  Even before they began to stretch, to define themselves, Krasus knew what they would be—huge, expansive white wings identical to the ones that Aviana had worn when transformed into a bird. Thick, white feathers covered them. Krasus instinctively flexed the wings and found them as responsive as his own.

  “They are yours for this journey, for this journey.”

  The dragon mage indicated his companion. “What about him?”

  “He is not born to the sky, to the sky. With learning, yes, with learning. Too long, too long, though. You must carry him, carry him.”

  In his present form, Krasus doubted that he had the strength for such a lengthy trek and said so. His concerns did not seem to bother their host, though.

  This time, Aviana plucked a single strand from another feather. She brought it to her lips and gently blew it toward Malfurion. The druid looked uncertain, but stood his ground as the tiny bit of feather drifted over to him.

  It touched his shoulder, adhering there. Malfurion shook once, then found great satisfaction with his hands, his legs, his entire body.

  “I feel—” He jumped up and nearly struck the ceiling. Landing, Malfurion grinned like a child.

  The birdlike deity smiled at both, her gaze returning to Krasus. “You will find him no burden at all, no burden at all.”

  “I—” Krasus choked up. He had not realized until now how great his distress had been over losing his ability to soar among the clouds. A tear slipped from one eye as he went down on his knee before Aviana and said, “Thank you…”

  “No need for gratitude, no need.” She bid him to rise, then led both toward the entrance. “Away you will fly, you will fly. To that high branch, then the right, the right. Through the clouds, through the clouds and descend. Well on your way you will be, you will be.”

  “The feather. How will I—”

  She put a gentle finger to the mage’s lips. “Hush, hush. It will know, it will know.” As Malfurion joined Krasus, Aviana grew more solemn and said to the druid, “Your shan’do wishes you to know that he is with you, with you. We do not ignore the danger, the danger. Our will, our will, is strong…”

  “Thank you. That gives me hope.”

  “Gives all of us hope,” added Krasus. “If only we could do something about the dragons.”

  She agreed. “Yes…even we do not understand what goes on there, what goes on there.”

  Her two visitors eyed each other, Krasus saying, “They have a plan, but there is a threat to—”

  Suddenly, his mouth felt as if full of cotton. His tongue seemed to twist. Aviana waited for more, but Krasus could give her nothing.

  Seeing his silence as some hesitation of his own, the demigoddess gave him a respectful nod, then bid the dragon mage to step through the hole.

  Krasus did so immediately, almost leaping into the sky. The wings instantly reacted, carrying him aloft. Around the area, birds twittered and sang out in recognition of a fellow flying creature.

  The heady experience made him momentarily forget Malfurion and his mission. The sensation of having his own wings was so spectacular that Krasus had to fly up among the branches, then dive around them before rational thought returned.

  Somewhat chagrined, the mage finally dropped down to where the druid and Aviana awaited him. The night elf had an awestruck expression and the demigoddess smiled like a proud parent. She indicated to Malfurion that he should step out and, after a cautious glance down, the druid obeyed.

  Coming up over the night elf, Krasus took him under the shoulders. He felt as if he carried nothing.

  “Are you comfortable?” the mage asked his companion.

  “Not until my feet touch the ground,” Malfurion muttered, “but I’ll be good enough until then, Master Krasus.”

  “Go then, go then,” Aviana said to the pair. To Krasus in particular, she added, “And when the end of your days comes, youngling, I will have your nest here ready, your nest here ready.”

  Krasus blanched. He looked around at the endless number and variety of birds; so many species living together, even though they should not be.

  And the reason that they could live together here…was that they did not live at all. These were their spirits, brought up here by the demigoddess. Somewhere there would be larger flying creatures, perhaps the hippogriff that had been slain and…and, of course, those dragons who had seen the end of their days.

  “Go now, go now,” the white figure cooed. “You shall return soon enough, soon enough…”

  Put off guard as he had never been before, Krasus swallowed. “Yes, mistress…thank you again.”

  She smiled, which in no way eased his mind.

  Rising up several yards, Krasus studied the direction in which she had told him to fly. He adjusted his grip on an anxious Malfurion, then started off.

  As they flew, the night elf asked, “What did she mean by that? What did she mean that you would return?”

  “We must all die someday, Malfurion.”

  “We—” The druid shivered, the truth finally dawning on him. “You mean…all of this—?”

  “All of it.” Krasus refused to say more, but, his curiosity aroused, he dared look back at the nest. His eyes widened as the mage realized that he had seen only a tiny bit. For the first time Krasus saw the structure in all its immensity. It ran everywhere and at each turn a huge, rounded chamber stood. The dragon mage studied the entire edifice, then the towering tree that dwarfed it. High up, he noticed winged creatures that even he could not identify.

  And then, while he was still caught up in the sight…they entered the clouds.

  Sixteen

  The night elven host met the demons again just beyond Suramar. The Burning Legion held them there for a short time, then fell back toward Zin-Azshari. Midway through the next evening, the battle intensified, and once more no ground was gained or lost. Night elves and demons perished horribly, either through the blade or the magic arts.

  Ravencrest could not stand this repeated stalemate, and so he had summoned Rhonin and Illidan again.

  “Magic looks to be the deciding factor in this!” he said to the human in particular. “Can you do anything?”

  Rhonin considered. “There is something that may be possible, but I’ll need the full cooperation of the Moon Guard to put it into effect. It may backfire, too.”

  “I doubt it can make anything worse. W
ell, Illidan?”

  “I eagerly await to aid Master Rhonin in whatever spell he crafts, my lord,” Malfurion’s twin said with a bow to the wizard.

  Rhonin kept his expression neutral. He hoped that Illidan would maintain control and not try to build on what the redhaired spellcaster planned. If he did, chaos might ensue.

  And chaos meant defeat.

  “We’re going to draw upon the Well as deeply as we can,” Rhonin informed Illidan as they made their way to the Moon Guard. “I want to try something that the wizards of Dal—that the wizards of my homeland discussed doing, but were unable to try before things fell apart.”

  “Will it be that complicated, Master Rhonin?”

  “No. They spent weeks preparing it, but I have in here—” He tapped his head. “—all that they completed. It may take us a few hours, but we should be successful.”

  Illidan grinned. “I have the utmost faith in you, Master Rhonin!”

  Again, the human wondered if the night elf would be able to follow orders without attempting to turn the spell into something of his own rash design. More and more, Illidan appeared unable to not be the center of any casting. He lived for his sorcery, and cared not that much of his prowess had to do with the forces fed into him by the Moon Guard.

  By the gods! Rhonin thought suddenly. He almost sounds like a demon that way…

  But in so many other ways, the amber-eyed night elf was a potentially more terrible threat. An Illidan who sought to dominate…there, indeed, was a path to destruction.

  I’ll keep him under control. I have to with Krasus gone. He could only hope that his former mentor had succeeded in reaching the dragons. If not, Rhonin did not know what might happen. He had not planned on utilizing such a very dangerous spell, but with the knowledge that the outcome of this war was anything but set, there seemed no other choice.

  Not wanting to leave the soldiers defenseless against the warlocks’ dark magic, Rhonin had Illidan pick out a dozen of the best from the sorcerers’ ranks, and left the rest to see to the battle. He would only need them once he had the spell ready to cast. The Moon Guard would amplify it, spread it where he needed it to go.

  But only if Rhonin succeeded with his part.

  “Illidan…I need you to guide me,” the wizard said when everything else was prepared. “I need you to bring me to the Well itself.”

  “Yes, Master Rhonin!” The night elf eagerly stood next to him as they prepared to reach out with their minds to the source of all night elven magic. Up until this point, Rhonin had been touching peripherally on the power of the Well. Unlike Illidan’s people, he had not needed to rely on direct use, which gave him a very distinct advantage. Illidan and a few others had learned from the human how to do this, but not to the same degree. Now, however, Rhonin needed to draw as much as he could so that he could be guaranteed of the results he desired.

  Far away, a horn sounded. Lord Ravencrest was setting up everything in preparation for Rhonin’s grand spell…or grand catastrophe.

  Standing side by side, the two spellcasters reached out with their thoughts and linked. Rhonin felt Illidan’s wild nature and tried to keep it in check. The night elf ’s zealousness was a definite threat to the stability of the spell.

  Illidan’s mind drew the wizard forward. Through his inner eye, Rhonin watched the landscape rip past as he and his companion sought to touch the Well. Endless rows of demons followed by miles of ravaged landscape passed within a single second. Briefly, the ruined city of Zin-Azshari rose up, then filled his gaze. The grand palace of Queen Azshara dominated next…and finally the black waters of the Well of Eternity greeted the human.

  Its power staggered him. Rhonin had always assumed that he had sensed the Well enough simply by drawing upon that part of it which permeated all Kalimdor. Now he realized he had been mistaken, that the Well itself was such a fount of pure energy that if he could command it all, he felt it would make of him a god.

  A god…

  Everything that Rhonin had dreamed of when first he had taken up the robes of wizardry now seemed so simple. He could raise up entire cities, or tear them down with the blink of an eye. He could call up the power of the earth, then send it crashing down on any who opposed him. He could—

  With tremendous effort, Rhonin freed himself of his dark ambitions. A sudden anxiety filled him as he recognized the Well. He had known what it was all along, and yet his mind had denied the evil.

  It had the same taint as the demons. Pure magic it might be, but in its way it corrupted as much as Sargeras did.

  But it was too late to turn back. Rhonin had to delve into the Well this once, then never touch it in such a manner again. Even drawing upon it as he had in the past now repulsed him, but to give it up completely meant that he would have to give up all magic…and Rhonin knew he was too weak of soul to ever do that much.

  Sensing Illidan’s impatience and curiosity, the wizard quickly took up the power he needed from the dark depths. The temptation to let it all engulf his mind proved daunting, but with effort he retreated from the cursed waters.

  Within moments, the minds of the night elf and him had returned to their bodies. The link to the Well remained as strong as ever. Rhonin prepared to cast, knowing that the sooner he did, the sooner he could be rid of the foul sensation in his soul.

  It begins now, he told Illidan.

  Instantly, he felt Malfurion’s twin prepare the Moon Guard for the task. What the wizard fed them they would send out toward the enemy, multiplying its intensity more than a hundredfold.

  With ease, Rhonin constructed the spell matrix that his masters in Dalaran had died working on. He briefly thanked their departed souls, regardless of the fact that none of the wizards would be born for centuries to come. Then, when Rhonin was satisfied that the matrix would remain stable—the wizard unleashed the spell.

  Illidan and the others mentally shook as it reverberated through their systems. To his credit the young sorcerer kept the much more practiced spellcasters from buckling. The very ambition that Rhonin feared now kept his plans together.

  And so, they struck at the demons’ lines.

  A ripple of ear-shattering sound hit the Burning Legion without even touching the soldiers who frantically battled them. Massive demons shrieked and dropped their weapons as they tried to shut the sound out. The vibrations shattered their insides, tore apart their minds. As the wave raced over their forces, the demons fell as if swept by some giant broom.

  All across the front, they perished. The soldiers stood frozen, shaken up by what they witnessed.

  “Now, Ravencrest,” Rhonin whispered. “Now.”

  The horns sounded, urging a rapid advance.

  The night elves shouted. Panther riders led the way. They charged across the field, seeking the enemy…but ahead of them lay only the dead. The sound wave continued to race on, cutting a swath of swift but violent death. No demon caught in its path lived. Hundreds perished.

  Rhonin suddenly felt his body give up on him. He wob-bled, his head feeling as if it, like the demons’, would explode.

  The wizard fell.

  “I have you, Master Rhonin…”

  Illidan eased him to the ground, the night elf none the worse for the wear. He was, in fact, the only one. The rest of the Moon Guard involved in the grand spell looked as terrible as the wizard felt. Most of them sat or even fell down, not at all caring that the soldiers now advanced from them.

  “Did you see it? Did you see what we did?” demanded Illidan eagerly. “This proves it! There’s no power like the Well!” He glanced at something or someone whom Rhonin himself could not see. “The Well is the way, brother! You see? Nothing else compares!”

  He continued shouting to an absent Malfurion. Rhonin, still seeking to regain his strength, could only stare. Illidan’s avarice, his jealousy, was so apparent that it almost bordered on hatred for the druid.

  Rhonin’s spell had sent the demons into flight, possibly turned the tide of the war forever…bu
t as he watched Illidan’s intense expression and thought of his own near seduction by the Well, the wizard wondered if he had just unleashed something more terrible on the night elf race.

  Korialstrasz brooded, his patience growing very thin. The dragons had all been ordered to await the word of the Aspects. When that came, every flight would take to the air as if of one mind, one soul. The plan was to descend upon the demons as a terrifying force, the Dragon Soul ripping apart the demon lines before the leviathans themselves struck.

  A simple, workable plan. A faultless plan.

  A plan that, for reasons he could not express even to himself, Korialstrasz did not trust.

  But the male red was loyal to his queen, his mate, and so he did nothing. Alexstrasza trusted in Neltharion’s creation. More to the point, she trusted in the Earth Warder himself. Whatever uncertainties Korialstrasz had, they had to remain unspoken.

  “Ever the thinker, my love. Ever the worrier.”

  He raised his head in surprise as the gigantic female entered his lair. “Alexstrasza,” he rumbled. “You are to be with the other Aspects…”

  “I have made excuses for my momentary absence. Neltharion is not pleased, but he will have to control himself.”

  Korialstrasz lowered his head in homage to her. “How may I be of service to you, my queen?”

  A hint of indecision glinted in her eyes. In a voice so very quiet for a dragon, she replied, “I need you to disobey me.”

  Her consort was perplexed. “My love?”

  “All save the sentinels that each of us posted are supposed to remain in this, the vastest of the cavern systems, until the moment of the launch. I wish you to ignore my earlier command and leave.”

  He was stunned. Clearly the other Aspects were not to know of this departure. “And where am I to go?”

  “I don’t know precisely, but I hope that you’ll be able to sense exactly where once you’re beyond the barrier. I want you to find Krasus.”

  Krasus. The mysterious mage had been much on the mind of Korialstrasz, too. Krasus likely knew things that would have cleared up much that disturbed the consort. “He should still be with the night elves—”