"So if Ner'zhul has items that correspond to these constellations," Turalyon said slowly, still peering at the stars, "and he uses the artifacts at a time when something extremely rare is happening in the skies to those three constellations — it augments his power, right?"
"The harmony so established, the sympathetic resonance — by the Light, Turalyon, I'm not sure it'd be possible to fail at any spell using that kind of energy."
Turalyon lifted his head from the telescope. "When?" was all he said.
"Fifty-five days. And the power will last for three."
They waited for more reinforcements, chafing at the delay. At least they knew precisely how long they could wait, and when they would have to attack regardless of their numbers. Khadgar sighed at the ranger who had interrupted his stargazing as he slipped back through the window. "We're one day closer than we were yesterday. I can't rush the stars, Alleria."
"Soon, soon; patience is a virtue," Alleria muttered angrily as Khadgar climbed back into the room. "I'm sick of the platitudes."
"For an elf, you're awfully impatient."
"For a human, you drag your heels. I want to be fighting, not holed up here."
Khadgar's irritation suddenly boiled over. "You don't want to fight, Alleria, you want to die."
She suddenly went very still. "What do you mean?"
"We've all seen it. You rush out there, on fire for blood. On fire for your revenge. You're reckless. You fight badly, Alleria, and you didn't use to. That's why Turalyon keeps ordering you to stay close, and sometimes not even go out at all. He's worried he's going to lose you."
Her gaze was haughty, cold, and angry. "I am not his to lose. I belong to no one but myself."
Khadgar knew he should just shut up. But he couldn't. He had held back all this time, watching Alleria and Turalyon, who obviously still loved each other, circle one another like wary dogs. He could take it no longer. "You don't even belong to yourself. You belong to the dead. Joining them wont bring them back, Alleria. There's a good, kind, intelligent man right here in this keep who could teach you a thing or two about how to live. You should try living for a change — opening yourself to something rare and wonderful instead of slamming doors."'
She marched up to him until their faces were only inches away. "How dare you say such things to me! It's none of your business! Why do you care how I choose to live my life?"
"I care because I don't get to choose!"
The confession burst from him before he could stop it, and they both fell silent, staring at each other. He hadn't realized the truth himself, but there it was, out in the open now, naked and raw. "I know you think of our lives as shockingly brief. Our youths are even briefer. What, ten years to be young and strong, at the most… most alive we'll ever be? I didn't even get that. I became an old man at seventeen. Alleria, I'm even younger than Turalyon! Look at this face. I'm twenty-two — but what twenty-two year old girl would have this old man?"
He pointed angrily at his face — lined, framed by snow-white beard and hair. She gasped slightly and stepped back. Compassion softened her expression. Suddenly embarrassed, Khadgar looked away.
"I just — to watch the two of you throwing away something I’ll never even get to taste — it bothers me, sometimes. And I'm sorry I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"No — I'm sorry. I didn't think."
The silence hung, heavy and awkward, between them. Finally Khadgar sighed. "Come on. Let's go find Turalyon and the others. We need to finalize our plans. Because, this is going to happen… well, you know."
"Soon," she said, and gave him an uncharacteristically gentle smile.
"The place is enormous," Alleria explained. Turalyon had asked her and her rangers to scout the citadel, and now the two of them, plus Khadgar, Kurdran, and Danath, were in the meeting hall discussing what they'd found. "The walkways on the walls alone support dozens of orcs. There are watch towers here." She indicated the places on the map. "We should attack from this area, here. While you're distracting them there, I can send rangers in and dispatch the sentries. Without an alarm being raised, the real fighting force will come in from the main gate — which we'll have opened for you."
"Good," Turalyon said. "We'll be attacking on two sides, one completely unexpected. We'll need to hit them hard. Box them in, don't give them room to escape, and then close ranks and cut down any orc still fighting."
"We'll be attacking from above," Kurdran pointed out, "keepin" them busy whilst you lads and lasses charge across tae finish the job."
Turalyon nodded, but Alleria shook her head. "You'll be busy with your own problems," she said. "They've got dragons, remember?" They had all seen the long dark shapes circling about the citadel, swooping and diving like great birds at play.
But Kurdran laughed. “Aye, but only a handful, lassie! Well be killin' them afore you can blink, don't ya know?"
Turalyon couldn't help but smile at the Wildhammer leader's confidence. "Nonetheless," he said, "we'd best not assume any help from your gryphon riders, just in case." Kurdran nodded. He looked over at Khadgar. "Can you do anything to negate their warlocks, or the dragons?"
"I'm sure I can come up with something," Khadgar replied. He glanced at Kurdran. "I have some ideas that might give your gryphons even more of an advantage, and provide help for the soldiers as well."
Turalyon nodded. The plan was beginning to come together. Now for the part he dreaded. He took a deep breath. "Well need someone to stay behind and be in charge of Honor Hold, in case we need to fall back. Alleria, I'd like that to be you."
"What?" She stared at him, openmouthed.
"It's key that someone I trust stay here. This is our base. We can't risk losing it if they split their—"
"You need me on the assault."
"I told you. I need you here. Send your rangers to take out the sentries."
She shook her golden head. "No, you don't. Any soldier here would know how to hold this keep. My rangers answer to me. And I will not send them with you. Not if you order me to stay behind."
"Be reasonable," he began, but she interrupted him.
"Reasonable? I'm a veteran of more battles than you have years, Turalyon!"
“Alleria, you're — you're reckless," Turalyon said, hating to have to say it but seeing no other choice. "I've saved your life when—"
“And I've saved all of you, more than once!"
"Gentlemen," Khadgar said smoothly, clamping a hand down on Kurdran's and Danath's shoulders and steering them toward the stairs, "I'm sure you both want to see that celestial alignment I'm talking about."
"Och, aye," said Kurdran, and the three of them left the room quickly.
Turalyon was too focused on Alleria to notice that they'd been given a moment of privacy. “Alleria, you don't fight smart. Not anymore. I can't keep watching your back to save you from yourself!"
"I have a right to revenge! They butchered my family — my people—"
"You think Lirath would have wanted you to throw your life away? What kind of testament to his life would that be?"
It was the first time he had spoken of Alleria's brother, and the name stilled the hot words on her lips. Recklessly, Turalyon continued before she could speak again. "I know you're a good fighter. Just — not right now."
"Lirath… the others … I wasn't there with them. I might have been able to do something. But I wasn't there. I stayed safe while they died." Tears stood in her bright green eyes, and Turalyon inhaled swiftly. He had not seen her weep for her lost kinsmen before. "So I did the next best thing. I went after their murderers. And it helped. It kept pushing the pain away."
And suddenly Turalyon understood. "What you told me that night," he said, praying he was saying the right thing, "I had it translated." He hesitated, then whispered, "'Help me forget."
The tears welled and slipped down her angular cheekbones. "But I didn't want to forget. I don't want to let them go. If I don't grieve them… it's as if they're no
t really gone."
Tears stung Turalyon's own eyes. His heart was breaking for her. But she needed this. She needed to grieve, to mourn the dead. Killing orcs was no longer the panacea it once had been; it was no longer keeping the pain at bay, and she was starting to come undone with the holding-in of all of it.
"I can't stay behind. Don't ask me to. I stayed behind the last time. I won't watch someone I love go to his death while I—"
Suddenly her arms were around him, her head buried against his chest, and he held her tight. Her slender body shook with sobs too long held in check, and she clung to him like a drowning woman. Turalyon pressed a kiss against her golden hair, inhaling her scent of pine and loam and flowers.
"I will never leave you behind," he vowed.
She turned her wet face up to his. "And I," she whispered as he bent to kiss her, "will never leave you."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Finished!" Ner’zhul sank back onto his throne and closed his eyes a moment, before glancing down at the scroll that lay unrolled across his lap. It had taken him months of research, planning, study, and concentration, but at last the spell was complete! Once the alignment occurred, he would be able to open portals to the other worlds, and his people could once more have a world many – many of them, even - as vibrant as they were themselves. And it would all be because of him.
"Good," Kilrogg rumbled from his stance nearby. "A few more days until the alignment is complete, then we can finally abandon this forsaken place to the humans and begin the task of rebuilding our people!"
Ner’zhul regarded the one-eyed old warrior thoughtfully. Kilrogg had always impressed him, as much for his sharp mind and excellent tactical sense as for his fighting skills, and when the scarred Bleeding Hollow chieftain had limped back through the portal. Ner’zhul had seen that sending him back out into battle would be a waste. Besides, there weren't many Bleeding Hollow warriors left — two years of hiding from humans and their allies had taken a heavy toll on the once-large clan. Ner’zhul had chosen to keep Kilrogg by his side instead, and to make the Bleeding Hollow clan his bodyguards. His own Shadowmoon clan had not been pleased with that, of course, but they were still numerous enough to be a force against the Alliance. Besides, Ner’zhul thought, he was warchief of the Horde now, not just chieftain of the Shadowmoon. He couldn't show favoritism.
"We have a journey ahead of us first," he told Killrogg and gestured at the citadel around them. "I cannot risk the spell failing. We have the skies cooperating with us; we must command the cooperation of the very land as well. I need to access the ley lines, as many as possible, so that Draenor herself will power the spell that releases us from her diseased grip." He sighed. "There is only one place that is ideal for such a task. The Temple of Karabor."
Kilrogg's one eye widened, but his expression did not change otherwise. "The Black Temple!" he said in a hushed tone.
Ner’zhul nodded. He did his best not to reveal the disgust he felt. He still remembered the war against the draenei with revulsion and not a little guilt, and the idea of entering their former temple sent chills down him, but he knew Kilrogg and the rest of the Horde did not share his sentiment. For them the death of the draenei was still a glorious victory, and the Black Temple a noble spoil. It was time for Ner’zhul to believe this also, if he were to lead them correctly. "If I perform the rite there, we cannot but succeed."
"I will make arrangements for us to depart at once then," Kilrogg said.
"Depart? Where are we going?" Kargath asked as he stomped into the throne room. The Shattered Hand chieftain had a broken arrow shaft protruding from his left shoulder. He reached up now and tore it out with a grunt. Ner’zhul had put Kargath in charge of the attacks against the Alliance stronghold, and the fool insisted upon leading many of the skirmishes himself. Most of the time they never even faced any of the humans directly — the Alliance archers rained death down upon them from above until Kargath got fed up and signaled the retreat. But at least it kept the Alliance occupied — and Kargath as well.
"I must go to the Black Temple when the stars align to cast the spell and open the new portals," Ner’zhul explained, rolling the scroll and tucking it securely inside the pouch hanging from his belt. He rose from his throne and patted it absently. It was not the most comfortable scat he had ever had, but it was certainly the most impressive. He would have a new one crafted on whatever world they went to next.
"I will gather the troops," Kargath replied, turning to go, but Ner’zhul stopped him. "No." he said. "Not yet. Summon Dentarg and Gorefiend instead. I will speak with the four of you here, and give you each your orders." Kargath hesitated, and Ner’zhul barked, "Now!" Kargath raised his scythe-blade hand in salute and hurried from the room.
"I will send word to Hellscream," Kilrogg said, and turned to leave.
“No.”
Kilrogg turned slowly, eyeing Ner’zhul. "They are still on Azeroth. We need to give Grom and his clan orders as well."
"No, we do not. Grom Hellscream already has his orders. He is part of this plan as well." At Kilrogg's look of uncase, Ner’zhul drew himself up to his full height. "You do not doubt my wisdom, do you, Kilrogg?"
The moment dragged out, heavy with tension, but Kilrogg eventually inclined his head. "Of course not, shaman."
"Go gather your warriors," Ner’zhul said to Kilrogg after Kargath had gone. "Tell them to make ready. we will depart shortly."
Kilrogg nodded and left as well, and Ner’zhul began pacing the room. He wondered if the bomb had worked as Gorefiend assured him it would. It must have; Grom had not charged through, red eyes blazing, demanding blood. That was well. Hellscream had always been a difficult one to manage, but he had served his purpose. He was no longer necessary.
Kilrogg returned shortly, a simple nod confirming that his warriors would be ready. Gorefiend arrived a few minutes later, and both Kargath and Dentarg were right behind him.
"Good," Ner’zhul said when all his lieutenants were present. "I have completed the spell," he told Gorefiend and Dentarg, and the two smiled.
"I knew you could do it, master!" Dentarg said.
"You will be going to the Black Temple, then?" Gorefiend asked, and his smile widened to a grin at both Ner’zhul's and Dentarg's surprise. Ner’zhul realized he should have expected this. Gorefiend had been one of the most promising young shaman he had seen, in terms of ability and perceptiveness if not empathy, and he had grown into a powerful, confident, clever warlock even before his death. Since returning as a death knight, he had only grown in strength and cunning. He would become a danger soon.
"Yes. It is the ideal place to cast such a spell."
"I can have the Horde warriors ready by nightfall,” Kargath reported. "We will leave behind a small force to man the walls here, and the rest will protect you along your way."
But Gorefiend shook his head. "The Alliance won't fall for our ruse much longer. And when they realize we have only been striking to keep them pinned up in their hold, they will attack with their full strength."
Ner’zhul nodded—-he had already guessed as much himself. "You will remain here, with your clan," he instructed Kargath. "Hold off the Alliance forces when they attack, while we go ahead to the Black Temple," He frowned. "I will need time. You must delay them as much as possible. If you survive, meet us there."
Kargath paled slightly, then straightened and nodded. "The plains before these walls will be piled high with the bodies of their dead!" he promised, raising his scythe-hand. He nodded to the other three, and then turned on his heel and stalked off. They could hear him shouting orders once he'd left the room.
"They cannot win," Dentarg commented after a moment.
"They don't have to," Ner’zhul replied. "All he has to do is keep the Alliance from following us long enough for me to complete the spell." He shrugged. "This citadel is strong, and his Shattered Hand warriors are tough. They will put up a good fight, and the rest of our people will honor their mem
ory on all the worlds we conquer in their name."
"Of course." Dentarg took the subtle rebuke with only a slight wince. "I do not doubt Kargath's loyalty, or the prowess of his warriors. He will fight to the end."
"Yes." Ner’zhul eyed the Shadowmoon ogre mage. "And you will fight with him."
"What?" This time Dentarg rocked back in surprise. "But master, you will need me at the Black Temple! My place is at your side!"
Sudden fury welled up inside Ner’zhul, hot and pure. "Your place is wherever I tell you it is!" He snarled, his voice deepening with his anger.
Dentarg's eyes widened. "Your face…" he murmured, cringing back, fear and shock on his own visage. "The skull…!"
The moment passed, and Ner’zhul felt the fury leave him. He reached to touch his white-painted face; it felt the same to him as it always had.
"They have magi of their own, these humans," he said, his voice gentler. "Someone must be here to stop them, someone with enough magic to hold his own. Someone I can trust." He stepped forward, stretching his hand up to place it on the ogre's shoulder. Dentarg stepped backward, and Ner’zhul let his hand fall. "That someone must be you."
Dentarg glanced down at Gorefiend. "Why doesn't he stay?"
"I have far more knowledge of rifts and portals than you do," the death knight said. "Ner’zhul will need my help with the ritual, or I would stay here and teach those humans a thing or two about magic."
Dentarg's small, piggy eyes darted back to Ner’zhul.
"I do need him with me," Ner’zhul said in an avuncular, almost apologetic tone. "And while I would have you there as well, you can aid me far more by being here and lending Kargath your sorcerous skills."
The ogre finally nodded. "I will do as you command, master. I will stop the human magi. And if I survive, I will join you at the Black Temple." The desire to see that place and walk its halls was naked in his voice.
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