“We hear and obey,” one of the senior priestesses said. The rest nodded.
“Marinda, I leave those caring for the wounded in your hands.”
“Aye, mistress.”
Tyrande considered further. “And if I should perish, I wish you to take over.”
The other night elf looked aghast. “Tyrande—”
“The chain must be unbroken. I understand that. I hope you do, too.”
“I—” Marinda frowned. “Yes, I do.” Her eyes briefly measured some of the other sisters. As Tyrande had done, she already considered who would be best to lead if she fell.
The new high priestess exhaled. Perhaps her decisions had been rash ones, but she could not be concerned about that now. They were needed. Elune was needed.
“That’s all I have to say…except, may the serene light of the Mother Moon illuminate your paths.”
The ancient farewell said, Tyrande watched as many of the sisters left. Those who would follow her began mounting.
One of them glanced toward Tyrande. “Mistress…what about her?”
“Her?” She blinked. Having grown so accustomed to Shandris riding with her, Tyrande had forgotten that the younger female could not possibly come with her now.
Likely knowing what was to come, Shandris tightened her grip. “I’m going with you!”
“That is not possible.”
“I’m good with a bow! My father taught me well! I’m probably as good as any of these!”
In spite of the looming situation, her defiance caused many of the sisters to smile.
“That good?” one gently mocked.
Tyrande took Shandris’s hand. “No. You stay here.”
“But—”
“Dismount, Shandris.”
Her eyes tearing, the orphan climbed down. She stared up at Tyrande with huge, silver orbs that made the high priestess feel guilty.
“I’ll be back soon, Shandris. You know where to wait.”
“Y-yes…mistress.”
“Come,” Tyrande ordered the others. If Elune had thrust her into this role, she had to accept it and do her best to live up to her calling. That included keeping as many of her sisters alive as the Mother Moon allowed.
Even if she had to sacrifice herself to do it.
Shandris watched them vanish. The orphan’s face was tear-stained, and her hands were balled into fists. Her heart pounded in time to the beating of the war drums and the cries of the dying.
When she could stand it no longer, Shandris ran after the priestesses.
Nineteen
Although he had told Malfurion that Korialstrasz would arrive before long, Krasus insisted that he and the elf begin heading in the general direction of the battle. He did not do it because he felt that it would cut down the trek. Hardly that. The distance they covered could be flown by an aged, ill dragon in barely a few minutes. Healed by the druid’s miraculous spell, Korialstrasz would take only one.
No, they walked because the dragon mage needed to walk in order to keep his impatience in check. He wanted so much to do something to hasten their journey, but he dared not create another portal to reach their destination, not after the last disaster. That left it to waiting for his younger self, but even with a fleet dragon coming to pluck them up, Krasus felt as if he had no more time remaining. Events were coming to a head, and he was out of options.
If Korialstrasz could get them to the struggle swiftly, then things could still be salvaged. If not—
“Master Krasus! I think I spy something behind us!”
Praying that it was not another of Neltharion’s hunters, he peered back. A single huge shape moved determinedly toward them. There could be no mistaking that it had seen them.
Krasus suddenly felt a tingling in his head. He allowed himself a smile. “It is Korialstrasz…”
“Praise be!”
The red leviathan’s wings beat hard, each stroke seeming to eat away another mile. Korialstrasz grew rapidly, his expression finally visible. Krasus thought his younger self looked extremely relieved.
“There you are!” thundered the behemoth, landing a short distance behind them. “Each second of flight felt like an hour even though I flew my fastest!”
“You are a welcome sight,” the mage told him.
Korialstrasz lowered his head and eyed Krasus most curiously, as if puzzled by something concerning him. “Is it truly so?”
The way he asked made Krasus start. Korialstrasz knew exactly who and what the spellcaster actually was.
“Yes,” he replied to his other self, “it is.”
“And you,” the dragon said, turning to Malfurion. “I am forever in your debt, night elf.”
“There’s no need for that.”
The behemoth snorted. “So you say. You were not the one dying.”
Krasus’s eyes narrowed. “You were attacked, were you not?”
“Aye, two of the Earth Warder’s own! They were filled with a horrid madness! I slew one, but the other caught me. He, too, is dead now, though.”
“It is as I feared.” The mage could say no more, the spell preventing him. Frustrated, he turned to a subject he could discuss. “We must return to Rhonin and the others. Are you prepared to take us there?”
“Climb aboard and we will be on our way.”
The two did as the dragon bade. Once they had settled at his shoulders, Korialstrasz stretched his wings, then gently took off. He circled the field twice before heading toward the direction of the battle.
As they flew, Krasus constantly glanced behind them. He was certain that they were fast approaching the point when the dragons would be coming, but so far he noted nothing. That gave him hope that he could devise a plan to deal with Neltharion’s betrayal before it took place. If the evil of his creation could be stopped or, better yet, wielded by one not tainted, then the demons could be defeated, and his own kind saved from their slide to near-extinction.
“We must be getting near,” Malfurion called. “The sky is growing hazy!”
Sure enough, the foul mist that pervaded wherever the demons had marched soon met them. Korialstrasz tried to keep low, but in order to avoid flying blind, he had to practically let his torso scrape the ground. When that effort finally proved unmanageable, he said, “I must fly higher! Perhaps there we will find a limit to this murk!”
Through the mist the trio rose. Krasus squinted, but saw nothing beyond his younger self ’s nose and sometimes not even that far. With visibility so poor, he knew that Korialstrasz had to rely on smell and other senses to make headway.
“There must be an end to it!” the red dragon snapped. “I will find it even if it takes me—”
A winged figure suddenly appeared in their path. The Doomguard darted back into the mist the moment he saw the dragon.
Korialstrasz immediately gave chase, forcing Krasus and Malfurion to hold on tight.
“Leave him!” the mage shouted. “We must get to the battle!”
But the fierce wind created by Korialstrasz’s swift flight carried away his words. Krasus beat on the dragon’s neck, but the heavy scales prevented the other from noticing.
“What about a spell?” Malfurion cried. “Just something to attract his attention!”
Krasus had wanted to do that, but knew better. “If we startle him at all, he may jolt and drop one or both of us! In this thick mist, it would be impossible for him to catch us before we hit the ground below!”
Forced to let Korialstrasz continue his pursuit, the two could only lean low and hope that the dragon either caught the demon quickly or gave up. However, recalling exactly how determined he had been when younger, Krasus knew that Korialstrasz would not turn back so soon. His own stubbornness now worked against all of them.
Again the demon flickered into sight. The fearsome, horned warrior flew as fast as his fiery wings could carry him. Even he understood that he could not stand against such a giant.
The mage frowned. The Doomguard had their share of cunning, an
d could see through this mist far better than their foes. The demon should have been able to figure out a way to lose Korialstrasz, who was clearly having trouble locating him. If not for the almost straight line the demon flew—
The truth suddenly dawned on Krasus. “Malfurion! Prepare yourself! We are about to be attacked!”
The druid looked around, seeking a foe in the fog.
A second later, he and Krasus were greeted by many.
The winged warriors came at the trio from all angles. At least half a dozen rose up under Korialstrasz, striking at the dragon’s chest and stomach. Others dropped down, seeking to either slay or knock off the two riders. Several more fluttered about in front of and behind the leviathan.
Korialstrasz roared, sending out a flood of fire at those in front of him. Most of the demons scattered, but one he caught dead center, reducing the horned warrior to ash.
The red’s massive tail swung like a mace, battering three of the Doomguard away. The others darted in, slashing with their horrific blades and even managing a few cuts in the scales.
Atop him, Krasus and Malfurion were harried. The dragon mage managed to cast a quick spell that created a glowing orange shield above them, but the demons battered relentlessly at it, quickly weakening his work.
The night elf reached into a pouch at his side. He took from it some small particles, then cast them at those demons most immediate. As they touched each of their targets, the particles blossomed into huge tendrils—creeper vines. Malfurion muttered under his breath, and the vines expanded in every direction.
The demons began tearing and slashing at the plants overwhelming them, but the vines grew at a swifter pace than they could cut.
Several encircled and tightened around one demon’s throat. There was a crackling sound, and the horned warrior slumped…then plummeted from sight.
Other demons found their limbs and, most important, their wings, entangled. Two fell screaming to their deaths.
Krasus cried out as a Doomguard who had gotten under the shield cut him on the shoulder. Eyes blazing, the mage took out much of his frustration with a single word of power. The demon howled as his flesh melted like wax, dripping over and through his fiery armor. That which passed for bones clattered in a heap before spilling groundward.
Yet still there seemed Doomguard everywhere. Krasus could not help but feel that they had been set there to await either the return of the one dragon that had aided the night elves or any other of the great beasts. The irony that the demons might have delayed Neltharion’s betrayal long enough for Krasus to do something about it did not escape the mage.
Hindered by the fact that he carried riders, Korialstrasz could not dive about as he normally would have, but the dragon nonetheless made good use of his other skills. One demon came too close. With a snap of his jaws, Korialstrasz crushed the attacker, then spat out the remains.
Shaking his head, he uttered, “Horrible taste! Horrible!”
Krasus continued to look around. The Burning Legion never came in one assault. They always had another attack waiting for the proper moment.
He spotted four Doomguard flying side by side. After a moment, he realized that they all held onto what at first seemed a long, thick rope. As they neared, however, he saw that it was not a rope, but rather some sort of flexible metal line.
He jerked his gaze in the opposite direction. Sure enough, four more demons carried a similar object, and both groups appeared headed for Korialstrasz’s wing area.
“Malfurion! Look there!”
The druid did, his expression turning perplexed. “What do they plan to do with that?”
“Tangle or bind his wings, likely! Korialstrasz is too distracted! We must do what we can to stop them!”
Even as he spoke, the elder mage sighted two more groups likewise armed. The demons wanted to ensure they accomplished their dire task.
As those carrying the lines neared, the other Doomguard fought with more frenzy. Krasus and the night elf tried focusing on the true threat, but the Burning Legion would not permit them.
A huge gust of wind abruptly scattered many of the hellish warriors above. Malfurion exhaled, the spell—with all else—taking something out of him. However, he had bought Krasus time to act.
Borrowing from one of the druid’s most potent attacks, the one that had slain Hakkar, Krasus eyed the first group. The demons nearly had the impossibly-long wire over a distracted Korialstrasz’s left wing. If they succeeded in looping it around, the dragon would be forced to try to stay aloft with the right—an insurmountable task.
The bolt struck only one of the demons, but the very line they carried sent the shock through to the others. The monstrous attackers shook and screamed, then, as the lightning faded, their limp hands released the metal bond. The four plummeted into the mist.
Although he had stopped one set, Krasus now saw that there were at least five others. The other winged fighters closed again, bedeviling the three.
“I must ask of you the greatest of favors!” thundered the red dragon. “Cling to me as if your lives depended upon it, for they certainly will!”
The two smaller figures immediately obeyed. Krasus shouted, “Hook your feet under the scale, Malfurion! Quickly!”
Just as they both did what he suggested, Korialstrasz spun on his back.
The tactic took the Burning Legion by complete surprise. Korialstrasz’s huge, leathery wings struck demon after demon. Two of the groups carrying the metal lines went floundering, their burdens vanishing into the mist below.
As he spun, the red behemoth also unleashed three quick but stunning bursts of flame. The first two utterly ravaged a pair of Doomguard. The last missed, but scattered several more attackers.
“Look out!” Malfurion cried.
A huge missile barreled into the dragon’s chest. Krasus’s footing slipped, and he suddenly dangled by his hands. The druid could do nothing to help him, barely holding on himself.
The fiery figure bounded away from its victim. The Infernal dropped into the mist unconcerned about the tremendous distance it would fall. Even from up here, the demon would survive a crash below unscathed.
The other attackers used the moment to close. Krasus kicked at the blade of one as he pulled himself back onto the red dragon’s back. Malfurion threw some more particles from his pouch, but the now wiser Legion forces all but avoided them. Only one Doomguard fell prey to the vines, but with so many others around, the loss was negligible.
As Krasus seated himself again, one of the groups began winding the long line around Korialstrasz’s right wing. Jabbing his fingers at the four, he spoke another word of power.
His fingernails snapped off, flying at the demons. As the nails flew, they stretched to more than a foot long each. In rapid succession, all four demons froze where they were as the sharp missiles bored through them. Krasus rubbed his fingers—where new nails were already growing—and watched as the demons dropped.
“Korialstrasz!” Krasus shouted. “We must break free! We cannot stay here and fight like this!”
This time, his younger self heard him, and, although clearly he did not like to leave the battle unfinished, he deferred to Krasus. “That may be more difficult than you think!”
Krasus understood exactly how difficult it would be. There were Doomguard everywhere and the dragon, mindful of his riders, had to move with care. That was what the Burning Legion now counted on.
But they had to leave. They had already delayed too long.
The leviathan paused to incinerate a careless Doomguard. “I have one notion! It worked before! Hold tight again!”
Neither Krasus nor the night elf had ceased holding tight since nearly being tossed earlier. Still, they both gripped the dragon by the scales as best they could.
And no sooner had they done it than Korialstrasz’s wings ceased beating.
The dragon sank like a rock, leaving the startled demons hovering high above. By the time they started after, Korialstrasz was far,
far out of reach.
Malfurion shouted. Krasus gritted his teeth and recalled too late that this had been a favorite strategy of his when younger. Most opponents, even other dragons, expected his kind to stay aloft. Vaguely Krasus remembered experiencing something like this when Korialstrasz had fought the two blacks.
Down and down they fell, the dragon using his wings only to keep from flipping over. It seemed impossible that his passengers would hold on, but somehow they did.
It occurred to Krasus that, with the mist so thick, his younger self might not see the ground soon enough, but then a strange thing happened—the mist simply vanished. It was as if some great being had cut a wedge out of the haze. A faint touch still remained, but visibility was so good that Krasus could see hills far, far away.
“Ha!” roared a triumphant Korialstrasz. He beat his wings, jostling his companions slightly. The dragon caught the wind and eased smoothly into flight again. Of the Burning Legion, there was no sign.
Korialstrasz did not wait for them to catch up. He flew on toward their original destination, moving at a speed that none of the demons could possibly match.
Behind Krasus, Malfurion gasped, “May I never have to do that again! Night elves were surely not meant to fly as much as I have!”
“After this journey, I would hardly blame you for such feelings…” Krasus suddenly eyed the path ahead. “Once again, I am having a sense of déjà vu. Most disturbing.”
“What is it? What’s wrong now? More demons?”
“That would be a simple situation, druid. This appears far more complex.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at this swath of clarity in what has been one continuous blanket of evil since the Burning Legion’s arrival.”
“Maybe my people are defeating them and this is the first sign.”
Krasus wished that he could share Malfurion’s optimism. He raised his head to the air and, as Brox often did, sniffed for a scent. What the mage sensed nearly overwhelmed him and confirmed his fear.
“Korialstrasz! Smell the air! Tell me what you detect!”
The Demon Soul (warcraft) Page 26
