The Sundering wwotat-3

by Richard A. Knaak

  His feet suddenly sank into the earth. As he looked down, tree branches wrapped around his body, pinning his legs together and his arms to his torso. Illidan tried to speak, but his mouth filled with leaves that adhered to his tongue. The sorcerer could not even concentrate, for a buzzing echoed in his ears, as if a thousand tiny insects nestled in them.

  Gasping, Illidan slumped to his knees. Through the buzzing, he vaguely sensed someone else approaching. The sorcerer knew without a doubt who it had to be…

  “Oh, Illidan…” Malfurion’s voice cut perfectly through the buzzing. “Illidan… why?”

  The druid stared at the lake, its blazing blue color a clear sign of its contamination. No one could drink from it now. Like the Well of Eternity before it, it was now a fount of power, not life.

  “Oh, Illidan…” he repeated, eyeing his bound twin.

  “Dath’Remar is still alive,” reported Tyrande, kneeling beside the Highborne leader. “One more also, but the others are dead.” She shuddered. “They were burned in their skins…”

  Malfurion had intended to come alone, only the dragons and Krasus with him, but, like the druid, Tyrande had somehow sensed that Illidan was up to something. With several of her priestesses in tow, she had ridden after the dragons, but had arrived too late.

  As had Malfurion.

  “Lord Blackforest is dead. The others, I think can be saved,” announced another priestess.

  “My… brother lives,” managed Maiev. She and Shandris both attended to an unconscious Jarod. He had bruises all over his face and his armor was even more battered now. Dried blood caked several wounds already healing thanks to the prayers of the priestesses.

  Jarod’s sister rose and her countenance was one terrible to behold. She started for Illidan, at the same time drawing her weapon.

  “No, Maiev!” Tyrande commanded.

  “He almost slew my brother!”

  The high priestess met her. “But failed. His fate is not yours to decide. Jarod will do so.” She glanced at Malfurion. “Is that not so?”

  He nodded sadly. “It’s his right and I’ll not argue it.” The druid shook his head. “So, this is why he stayed so near the shore of the Well.”

  “I didn’t know that he had gathered more,” Tyrande added apologetically.

  With a sudden hunch, Malfurion knelt near his brother. Illidan’s breathing was even, but he stiffened when he sensed Malfurion near. The druid searched the pouch.

  “At least four more vials… he would have turned this lake completely into another Well.”

  “Can anything be done to change it back?”

  Krasus had remained in the background, watching the events unfold. Now, however, the cowled mage muttered, “No… nothing. What has been done cannot be undone.”

  Alexstrasza, however, added, “We can do something to make of it a different force. One not as treacherous in nature as the Well became.”

  The mage’s eyes momentarily widened. “Ah! Of course!”

  Malfurion forced himself from his brother’s side. “And what’s that?”

  The three dragons glanced at one another, each nodding agreement. Alexstrasza turned back to the night elves. “We are going to plant a tree.”

  “A tree?” The druid looked to Krasus for some sort of clarification.

  But the mage, his own expression guarded, simply answered, “Not a tree. The tree.”

  They quickly turned it into a ceremony so as to lessen the impact of Illidan’s misdeeds. The sorcerer was hidden away in order to prevent further trouble and Jarod’s sister volunteered to guard him until a final fate could be decided. Jarod, healed by Shandris and Maiev, insisted that, when that time came, it would not be only his choice, but Malfurion’s.

  Other than Krasus, Rhonin, and the dragons, there were only night elves at the gathering. What the Aspects intended was for their race, which had suffered so much and feared for its continuance. Nobles, Highborne, and representatives of what had once been the lower castes assembled. The rest of the survivors gathered as they could down below, unable to see the spectacle but aware that it would influence the course of their lives.

  Malfurion and the rest who had been invited journeyed to the island at the center of the lake. Despite Hyjal’s tremendous height, the top of the peak was fairly warm, perhaps even more so now that the lake had become touched by magic.

  “It’s beautiful,” Tyrande whispered.

  “Would that it was only that,” Malfurion replied morosely. Illidan continued to be in his thoughts. He already had some suggestions as to what to do about his twin and it pained the druid to imagine them being put into action. Yet, Illidan clearly could not longer be trusted. He had slain others out of madness. His notion that the night elves needed a new Well in order to protect themselves against some possible future attack by the Burning Legion was not sufficient reason for his heinous crimes.

  Although still creatures of the dark despite having been forced to adapt to daylight battles, Jarod had agreed with the dragons to assemble at noontime. Alexstrasza explained that the sun’s zenith would be essential to what they planned and the night elf was not about to argue with the giants.

  Despite the island’s reasonable size, only tall grass covered it. At its center, the group positioned itself as requested by Alexstrasza. The dragons took up a prime location near what they said was the exact middle, leaving a small place open between them.

  The Aspect of Life began the ceremony. “Kalimdor has suffered greatly,” she rumbled. As those in the group nodded, Alexstrasza continued, “And the night elves most of all. Your race was not completely innocent in all of this, but the trials and tribulations through which you have passed forgive that.”

  There were a few uneasy glances toward the Highborne, but no one argued.

  The red dragon lowered her palm. In it, nestled like an infant, a single seed similar in appearance to an acorn rested. Malfurion felt a tingle as he stared at it.

  “Taken from G’Hanir, the Mother Tree,” she explained. The druid recognized the home of the dead demigoddess, Aviana.

  “G’Hanir is no more, having perished with its mistress, but this seed survives. From it, we shall raise a new tree.”

  Nozdormu dropped one paw to the ground and, with a single swipe, created a hole perfect for planting the seed, Alexstrasza gently placed the seed in it, then Ysera pushed the dirt over the hole.

  The Aspect of Life gazed up at the sun. Then, she and the other two dragons bent their heads low over the buried seed.

  “I give Strength and Healthy Life to the night elves, for so long as the tree stands,” Alexstrasza proclaimed.

  From her, a soft, red glow flowed to the mound. At the same time, the sunlight over the mound intensified, spreading all the way across the lake in every direction. Some of the night elves stirred, but all remained silent.

  A wonderful warmth spread over Malfurion and he instinctively took Tyrande’s hand. She did not pull away, but rather tightened her grip.

  And from the mound, there came movement. As if a tiny creature burrowed to the surface, the dirt pushed up and away.

  From the seed had sprouted a tiny sapling.

  It rose until a yard high, small branches sprouting. Lush, green leaves burst from the branches, creating a delicate canopy.

  As Alexstrasza pulled back slightly, Nozdormu spoke, a slight hiss in his voice. “Time will be on the night elvesss’ side once again, for I grant them continued Immortality, forever a chance to learn, for asss long asss the tree stands…”

  From him issued forth a golden bronze aura that joined with the sunlight as the red had. Flowing through the sapling, it sank into the mound.

  The tree grew again. As the onlookers gaped, it rose to more than twice the height of a night elf. Its foliage grew dense, green, and full of promise. Branches thickened, showing the health and strength of the tree. The roots began to come up above ground like many legs. A space almost large enough for several seated night elves formed und
erneath.

  Nozdormu nodded, then, like his counterpart, withdrew. There remained only Ysera.

  Eyes lidded, the green leviathan studied the tree. Despite its swift growth, it was still dwarfed by the dragons.

  “To the night elves, who have lost their hopes, I give forth the ability to Dream again. To Dream, to Imagine, for in that is the best hope of rebuilding, of recovering, of growing…” She looked ready to do as the other Aspects had, then paused. Her head swung toward Malfurion. “And to those who follow the path of one held special by me — and mine — I grant him and the other druids to come the path into the Emerald Dream, where, even in their deepest sleep, they may cross the world, learn from it, and draw upon its own strength… the better to guide Kalimdor’s health and safety throughout the future.”

  Malfurion swallowed, unable to otherwise respond. He felt the eyes of everyone upon him, but, most of all, felt Tyrande’s proud touch.

  Ysera looked again to the tree… and from her issued a green mist. Like the two before, her offering bound with the sunlight, then settled over the tree.

  As the last of it vanished into the soil, the assembled onlookers felt the ground shake. Malfurion led Tyrande back a few steps and, as if this was a cue, the rest followed suit. Even the dragons moved back, albeit not near as much as the tinier creatures.

  And the tree grew. It grew twice its previous height, then twice that. It rose higher and higher into the heavens, until the druid felt certain that even those well below the peak could at least see the huge, burgeoning canopy. So massive was the canopy that the entire region should have been bathed in shadow, but somehow the sunlight continued to focus on the area, even the lake.

  The roots also expanded, stretching taller and bending to best support the gigantic tree. They spread so high that now it seemed all of Lord Ravencrest’s lost Black Rook Hold could have fit underneath… and still the roots — the entire tree — grew.

  When at last it ceased, even the dragons looked like no more than birds who could perch upon one of the branches and hide in the foliage.

  “Here stands before you Nordrassil. The World Tree is brought into existence!” intoned the Aspect of Life. “For as long as it stands, for as long as it is honored, the night elves will thrive! You may alter, you may follow different paths, but you will ever be an integral part of Kalimdor…”

  Krasus suddenly stood behind Malfurion. In a whisper to the druid, he added, “And the tree, whose roots go deep, will keep this lake as it is. The sun will always be a part of this well. The black waters will not run here.”

  Malfurion took this in with much relief. He glanced down at Tyrande, who met his gaze with an expression that left his cheeks darkening. Before Malfurion realized what was happening, she kissed him.

  “Whatever this long future our people have been promised holds,” his childhood friend murmured. “I wish to see it with you.”

  He felt more blood rush to his cheeks. “As I do with you, Tyrande.”

  Malfurion kissed her back, but as he did, another’s face intruded into his thoughts. There would be a period of rejoicing, of spreading the word concerning the Aspects’ gifts to their people, but for Malfurion, those events suddenly mattered little. There was still Illidan to deal with.

  Tyrande pulled away, her mouth twisted into a frown. “I know what it is that suddenly fills you with sorrow. What must be done must be done, Malfurion, but don’t let his crimes steal your heart away.”

  He took strength from her words. “I won’t. I promise you, I won’t.”

  Over her shoulder, Malfurion noticed Krasus and Rhonin quietly retreating from the gathering. He glanced at the dragons and saw that Nozdormu was also missing. Just like that. Somehow, the Aspect had simply vanished without anyone noticing.

  There had to be a connection. “Malfurion, what is it now?”

  “Come with me, Tyrande, while no one’s looking.”

  She did not argue. The two night elves followed after Krasus and the wizard.

  The voice echoed in Krasus’s head. It hasss been delayed far too long. It mussst be done now.

  Nozdormu. “Rhonin — ”

  The human nodded. “I heard him.”

  They slipped out while the night elves were still babbling over the tree. Krasus would have liked to have spoken with Malfurion a little more, but the mage was eager to return home.

  Before the ceremony, Nozdormu had come to him. The Aspect of Time had caught Krasus alone. “We owe you a debt, Korialstrasz.”

  By “we,” Nozdormu did not just mean the other Aspects and him. He referred also to his various selves spread through Time itself. Such was his unique nature.

  “I did what had to be done. Rhonin — and Brox — too.”

  “I alssso speak to the wizard at this very moment,” the Aspect had commented offhandedly. It was nothing for him to be in two places at the same time, if he so desired. “I tell him, asss I tell you, that I will sssee to it that you reach home.”

  Krasus had been very grateful. It had pained him to still be around an Alexstrasza who did not know the fate to befall her and the other dragons. “I am — thank you.”

  The bronze giant had given him a solemn look. “I know what you hide from her, from usss. It is my fate and curssse to know such things and be unable myssself to prevent them. Know that I now asssk for forgiveness for the wrongs I will caussse you in the future, but I mussst be what I am destined to be… as Malygos is.”

  “Malygos!” Krasus had blurted, thinking of the eggs secreted in the pocket dimension. “Nozdormu — ”

  “I know what you did. Give them over to me and I will pass them to Alexstrasza. When Malygosss is well enough, he will be presssented with the young. Compared to all elssse that has happened, it isss a sssmall change to the time line and one of which I approve. The bluesss will fly the skies again, even though their numberss will not be great even after ten thousand yearsss. But better sssome, than none.”

  Krasus had also wished to see his beloved queen once more, but it had been agreed that he might let slip something even she should not know. Now, though, as he and Rhonin stood ready for the bronze dragon’s reappearance, the mage regretted not having sought her out, anyway.

  Rhonin studied him. “You could still run to her. I’d understand.”

  The gaunt figure shook his head. “We have twisted the future enough. What will be will be.”

  “Hmmph. You’re stronger than I am.”

  “No, Rhonin,” Krasus muttered with a shake of his head. “Not in the least.”

  “Are you prepared?” Nozdormu suddenly asked.

  They turned to find the Aspect waiting patiently.

  “How long have you been there?” snapped the cowled spellcaster.

  “Asss long as I chose to be.” Foregoing any other answer, Nozdormu spread his wings. “Climb atop. I will take you to your proper period in the future.”

  Rhonin looked dubious. “Just like that?”

  “When the lassst of the Well devoured itself, the Old Gods were again sssealed away. Their reach into the river of Time vanished with it. The tearsss in the fabric of reality vanished. The way forward is now sssimple enough… for me.”

  From the ground, Rhonin lifted up Brox’s ax. “What isss that doing here?” asked the Aspect.

  Both spellcasters looked defiant. “It comes with us,” Krasus insisted. “Or we stay here and meddle more.”

  “Then, by all means, bring it with.”

  They mounted quickly, but as they did, Krasus spied a pair of forms hiding in the woods. He sensed immediately who they were.

  “Nozdormu — ”

  “Yesss, yesss, the druid and the priestess. I’ve known all along. Ssstep out and say your farewellsss, then! We must be gone!”

  Although the Aspect took their appearance in stride, Krasus felt far less comfortable. “You two heard — ”

  “We heard all,” interjected Malfurion. “Not that we understand all.”

  The mage nodded.
“We could say little and still cannot say more. Just know this, the two of you. We shall meet again.”

  “Our people will survive?” asked Tyrande.

  The mage calculated his words before speaking. “Yes, and the world will be the better for it. And with that, I say goodbye.”

  Rhonin raised Brox’s ax, echoing Krasus’s farewell.

  Nozdormu stretched his wings again. The night elves immediately backed away. They raised hands toward the pair.

  But before they could… both the dragon and his riders simply vanished.

  Twenty-Three

  Rhonin awoke to find himself lying in a field of grass. At first, he feared that something had gone awry, but then, as he sat up, a familiar and very welcome sight greeted his eyes.

  A house. His house.

  He was home.

  More important, he sighted Jalia, the townswoman who had been taking care of Vereesa during her pregnancy. She seemed in a fair state, anxious but cheerful. Rhonin unsucessfully tried to calculate the time passing since he had vanished. He wondered how old the babies would be by now.

  Then, to his horror, he heard Vereesa cry out, “Jalia! Come!”

  Without hesitation, he leapt to his feet and followed after the woman. For a full-bodied person, Jalia moved quickly. She raced through the doorway, even as Vereesa called out again.

  The wizard burst through the door a few moments later, hand already up in preparation to defend his bride and children. He looked around, expecting a home ransacked or burnt, but found everything in place.

  “Vereesa? Vereesa?”

  “Rhonin! Praise the Sunwell! Rhonin, in here!”

  He ran toward the bedroom, fearful of what he would find. A moan set the hair on his neck standing.

  “Vereesa!” Rhonin barged inside. “The twins! Are they — ”

  “They’re coming!”

  He stared wide-eyed. His wife lay in the bed, still very much pregnant… but not for long.

  “How — ” he began, but Jalia shoved him aside.

  “If you don’t know how, then you’d best just stand back and let her and me handle it, Master Rhonin!”