Beyond the Dark Portal

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Ho, lads!"

Turalyon glanced up, surprised. It was over­cast, and a shape had just dropped out of the heavy clouds, plummeting through the dark sky. The shout was all that stopped Alleria and her rangers from loosing arrows at the descending figure, and prevented Turalyon from ordering his men into defensive posi­tions. Instead he stepped back and waited, hands at his side, a small smile on his lips, as Sky'ree spread her wings and swooped in for a landing.

Kurdran was already climbing down from Sky'ree's back while her talons were still digging into the earth, and strode up to Turalyon where he and Alleria and Khadgar waited. Turalyon's pleasure at seeing the dwarf was dampened, however, by the dwarf's stiff, slow gait, and changed to confusion by the strange, hunched figure that dismounted and scurried after him. "Ah, I'm glad to see ye all," Kurdran said, clasping hands with Turalyon and Khadgar in turn and kissing Alleria's hand. '”An' it were a near thing, too, for those green beasts captured me, they did."

Turalvon frowned and studied his short friend. "I'm glad you escaped."

"Nay, rescued, I was, and healed up right proper," Kurdran corrected. "The lad Danath sprung me, an' stormed their great ruin ta boot. Called Auchindoun, it were. Found ourselves a strange-looking friend there who might teach even ye a thing or two about healing wi' the Light. Good thing too — I, cr, wasn't at me best."

Turalyon looked with fresh admiration at his friend. What Kurdran had said amounted to a confession of being at death's door. "I'm glad," he said fervently.

"Eh, ye'll nae be so glad about the next part. Ner’zhul got away. He and his pet death knight cast a spell tha' took them straight ta a place called th' Black Temple, an' we couldna stop them."

Turalyon sighed and placed his hand on Kurdran's shoulder. "Don't worry, Kurdran. I know you and Danath did your best. I'm grateful you're all right." He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "Black Temple — sounds ominous. What do we know about it?"

"Naу much, but yon feathered creature here will take us ta it," Kurdran jerked a thumb at the figure who had accompanied him atop Sky'ree. It bowed ob­sequiously. "This is Grizzik. He led Danath into Auchindoun, an' then Danath found his way ta me."

"Grizzik knows!" it stated, its voice high and reedy. "I tell you of Black Temple. I know what and where!"

"Is this your benefactor?" Alleria asked. "The one who healed you?"

"Nay, nay, that's a draeneei. It does get complicated."

"Then what are you?" Alleria asked softly, and Tura­lyon realized her elven eyes had pierced the shadows of the heavy cowl that hid Grizzik's face.

"I arakkoa," Grizzik answered, flinging back his cowl, and Turalyon tried not to start at the stranger's long beak and feathered hair. "We born of this world, as are orcs. Long have arakkoa kept to ourselves. Little have we to do with orcs or draenei. Then orcs rose up, banding together, forming Horde. Slaughtered draenei."

"Auchindoun was a draenei burial city," Kurdran ex­plained. "So Grizzik's told me."

"And Black Temple, theirs as well," Grizzik added. "Though it was not called that then. There draenei made their last stand, and there my brethren and I, too, came to fight orcs." His eyes glittered with what Tura­lyon took for rage, though there seemed something malicious in them as well. "We failed. Though not from lack of arms. Orcs have sorcerer, Gul'dan. He very strong. He alter earth itself, raising great volcano in our midst." Now his small eyes clearly blazed with anger.

"Gul'dan, eh?" Khadgar swung the sack down from his shoulder, opened it, and pulled out the skull. "Here's all that's left of him. He won't be causing you any more trouble," the young-old mage told the arakkoa before dropping the skull back inside with a quickly concealed look of relief.

Grizzik's eyes were wide. "You slew Gul'dan?" he asked, his voice a breathy whisper.

"No," Turalyon admitted. "Someone else got to him first. But we have destroyed the Horde's power and broken one of its major strongholds. Now we just need to reach the Black Temple, find Ner’zhul, and kill him as well."

The arakkoa bobbed his head. "I can show you way." he assured them.

Turalyon caught Kurdran s eye, and the Wildhammer leader shrugged. Turalyon understood — the clever dwarf wasn't sure whether to trust Grizzik either, but what choice did they have? "Thank you," he told the arakkoa. "We welcome your help." He turned to Kur­dran. "We'll draw up a rough map tonight, based on Grizzik's information," he said. "Tomorrow I want you to head back to Danath. We'll decide where to meet up for the final assault."

Kurdran nodded. “Aye, lad, tha's a fine plan," he agreed. "Now, who's got ale for me, and some food? Once I'm refreshed I'll tell ye the full o' our trek, and the battle at Auchindoun."

Turalyon smiled. "I can't wait to hear it," he told the dwarf, and it was true. He caught Alleria's eye and smiled as she slipped her hand into his. Tomorrow they would begin the march again, but for tonight, at least, they could sit and drink and listen to the Wildhammer's no doubt colorful tale.

Several days later they rode between two low mountain ranges and saw a wide valley stretching out before them. Kurdran had found them when they were almost level with what Turalyon now knew the orcs called Hellfire Citadel and the Dark Portal. Grizzik had led them far farther south and then east, skirting the waters the arakkoa had told them were called the Devouring Sea. There, at the very edge of the land, stood the Black Temple, where the Shadowmoon Valley ran up against the mountains that dropped off into the raging sea. And it was there that Danath and the rest of the Alliance army were waiting for them.

Danath and the others had not been idle. Turalyon saw as he reined in. A crude but effective camp stood near the southwest edge of the valley, and thick log walls were already half-erected around it.

"Kurdran's idea," Danath said as he approached them, clasping Turalyon's hand in greeting. "He felt we'd need a place where we could keep an eye on things across the valley, and this struck us both as a good van­tage point." Turalyon nodded. It was indeed that — from there they could see alt the way across to the land's edge, including the massive volcano rising up in the center and billowing smoke and ash and lava in every direction. "Aye, and it's best it were someone as didn't need ta set foot on tha' ground." Kurdran added as he joined them. "That lava's green, if’n ye canna tell from here, an' the very ground's saturated with it."

Khadgar nodded and Turalyon noticed the pained expression on his friend's face. "Fel magic," he whis­pered hoarsely. "The purest I've ever seen." The archmage shook his head. "I don't even want to know what sort of spells Gul'dan worked to cause this. It's a viola­tion of nature itself — no wonder this world is dying." He frowned at Kurdran. "Keep your people as far from that thing as possible." he warned, "and don't enter the valley any more than necessary."

"Och, aye, we'll steer well clear," Kurdran assured him. "The good news, though, is that we've already scouted the valley for ye." He produced a roll of parch­ment and showed them the map he'd sketched out. "The Black Temple be there, at the far east end," he said, gesturing toward where a massive dark structure could be clearly seen across the valley. “An' there's no easy way out from it. Eeither, 'cepting through this val­ley. It's a big horseshoe, it is, and its open end points this way."

"Any sign of Ner’zhul?" Alleria asked.

"Aye, he's there," Kurdran answered. "An' those death knights as well. Plus some orcs, though not many." He grinned. "We've got them pinned in — they'll nae be goin' anywhere."

Turalyon glanced over at Danath, who nodded. "We laid siege to the temple as soon as we arrived," he ex­plained. "I didn't want to risk them getting reinforce­ments."

"Good." Turalyon turned to the others. "We need to get over there ourselves. Khadgar, you're the key here — we need you to take out Ner’zhul and stop his spell. Alleria, you and your rangers protect him from long-range attacks. Shoot down anything that even looks his way. I'll be right beside him to take care of anything close by. We smash through their defenses, find Ner'zhul, kill him, take back the artifacts, and get the hell out. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," Khadgar agreed, and the others nod­ded as well.

"Good." Turalyon sighed and said a quick prayer, calling down the Holy Light's protection upon them all. He felt it pouring over them all, warm and calming, and thanked it. He clasped hands with Kurdran, Danath, and Khadgar, then turned to Alleria. She smiled bravely up at him, but she knew, as he did, the risks. Alleria. Thank the Light, they had not been so stupid as to still be shunning one another. Instead, they had found strength and comfort in each other. He folded her close for a long moment, resting his chin on her shining hair, then tilted her head up to kiss her. Pulling back, he gave her his best smile and hefted his hammer. "Let's go."

They charged across the valley, the remaining Al­liance forces right behind them — only a handful of men stayed behind to guard the camp. As they raced around the volcano, Turalyon saw the Black Temple for the first time, and only his faith kept him from jerking his horse to a stop and then kicking it into a gallop in any other direction.

The place was enormous, towering over even the volcano jutting up from the valley floor. Carved of some stone that had perhaps once been bright but was now coated in ash and other foul substances that swal­lowed the light, it loomed like a piece of shadow given solid form, squat and ugly and dangerous, mocking the army that threw itself against its walls. Turalyon could tell that every surface was heavily carved, though he could not make out details yet, and the top of the cen­tral portion had protrusions that reminded him of a hand grasping at the sky. Even as Turalyon tried to take it all in, his horse stumbled, and he was nearly thrown as the earth rocked beneath him. Lightning, green and loud and ominous and crackling with darkness instead of illumination, shattered the skies. His horse whick­ered in terror and reared. Its rider was only marginally less frightened, but did his best to calm the animal.

"What's going on?" he shouted to Khadgar over the roll of thunder.

"The skies are right," Khadgar shouted back. "I fear that—"

His words were snatched away as the earth shook again and the skies flashed green.

Turalyon saw another flash, and his head whipped up.

The portion that evoked the image of a hand reach­ing for the skies — it was glowing.

"Oh no," he breathed, and turned to Khadgar.

"I was right," Khadgar yelled. "Ner’zhul has begun his spell."

"Can we still stop him?"

"I can," Khadgar answered grimly. "Just get me there in time."

"Consider it done." Turalyon raised his hammer high overhead and summoned his faith, channeling it into the blessed weapon. The hammer's surface began to glow, the light spreading as it grew, until it shone so brilliantly the volcano dimmed alongside it. The orcs and death knights battling before the Black Temple turned away, blinded, but the light did not scar Alliance eyes and his soldiers cheered as Turalyon galloped past them, his hammer burning a path through the temple's defenders.

Until one figure stepped out into his path.

"Your little light does not frighten me!" Teron Gorefiend called out, a jeweled truncheon in his hand. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the death knight was lying. He had let his hood fall back and his hideous, decaying face and burning red eyes were plainly visible. That face was contorted with pain, and the body strained as if wanting to flee of its own ac­cord. Gorefiend lifted the strange weapon he held. It glowed with a multicolored light, and that varied radi­ance battered at Turalyon's glow, attempting to over­power it. "The Holy Light is all that you are not, monster," Turalyon shouted in reply, pointing the hammer at Gorefiend and loosing a burst of light like a missile. "If you do not tear it, then embrace it!”

The burst struck Gorefiend, but he swept his trun­cheon before him and it scattered Turalyon's attack, dif­fusing the brilliant white into rays of color. Then the death knight struck in turn — he leveled his truncheon at Turalyon, and a shadow emerged from its tip, en­gulfing the Alliance commander. Turalyon felt the darkness constrict, smothering his light and his limbs si­multaneously, and fought against it, writhing to break free. Air passed beneath him and he hit the ground hard, rolling and struggling — clearly the attack had car­ried him from his horse, but the darkness stayed on him, pressing him down into the earth.

He gasped for air, but his lungs refused to inflate, re­fused to obey his commands. He'd fallen. Of course he had — he was not even good enough to stay atop his horse. What kind of general was he? His troops would die too. He'd led them straight to their deaths. Lothar would be so ashamed of him…

Turalyon spasmed on the earth, willing himself to breathe, but tendrils of darkness wrapped around his chest, crushing it. Snakelike, they wound up around him, pinning his arms to his sides, forcing their way into his mouth, his nostrils, his eyes — ah, it burned! Tears spilled from tightly closed lids, but only inflamed the fire.

And so he would die, a failure, a catastrophe. All those deaths would be on his head. Those innocents in other worlds, gaping in horror as the vast green tide swept over them. The men who had believed him when he told them the Light would be with them. Light… what Light — where was it now, now that it mattered —

Alleria!

Dead, too, she would be, joining her family, cursing him in whatever afterlife the elves believed in. She never loved him; he saw that now. He was a toy, one she would have outlived, one she'd have moved on from. Khadgar — Kurdran — Danath —

The dark tendrils tightened, Turalyon opened his eyes, staring blankly. I'm sorry, Lothar. I failed you. I'm not you. I led them —

He blinked.

He led them the best he'd known how. No, he wasn't Anduin Lothar, the Lion of Azeroth. Only Lothar could be Lothar. It would be the height of arro­gance to assume otherwise. He was Turalyon, and the Light was with him; it hadn't failed him yet, not when he had prayed with his whole heart.

Just ask. All you have to do is ask, with a pure heart. That's why Lothar picked you. Not because he thought you'd be him. Because he knew you'd be you.

Turalyon took a shallow breath, constrained by the dark tendrils, and prayed. He opened his eyes, and he knew without understanding how he knew that they were shining with pure white radiance. He looked down at the tendrils of darkness and they melted, retreated, as shadows must always, must ever retreat, before the Light. His chest heaved with a great breath and he clambered to his feet and grabbed his hammer, swinging it through what remained of the shadows.

The attack had lasted only a few seconds, though it had felt like an eternity. Gorefiend had used the diver­sion to creep closer, and when Turalyon could see and move freely again he realized the death knight was only a few feet away. His red eyes widened as Turalyon took a step forward — clearly he had not expected the young Alliance commander to win free so quickly, if at all — and he was not prepared for the heavy blow Tura­lyon's hammer struck him full in the chest. Turalyon was sure he heard bones snap beneath the worn armor, and the death knight stumbled back, though he did not fall.

"You cannot win," Gorefiend hissed through gritted teeth. "I am already dead — what is the worst you could do to me?" His truncheon jabbed forward, catching Turalyon in the stomach and doubling him over, and Gorefiend's hand brushed the back of Turalyon's helm. Instantly pain blossomed in Turalyon's head, as if a vise had gripped his helm and was squeezing it tight onto his temples and skull. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he felt the world tilt crazily around him. In desperation he swung his hammer again, a mighty two-handed arc, and felt the heavy head strike some­thing solid. There was a rattle and a gasp and the pain vanished.

Blinking away spots and taking a deep, racking breath to clear his head, Turalyon glanced up in time to see Gorefiend stagger a step, one arm hanging limp. While the death knight was off-balance Turalyon lurched forward, hammer raised high. He summoned his faith to him again, and the radiance shone from his limbs and from his weapon, too bright to look upon as he advanced upon his foe.

The death knight cried out, raising his hands to shield his eyes from the radiance, which was now actu­ally starting to make his flesh smoke and curl.

"By the Light!" Turalyon cried, praise, prayer, and promise all in one. The light flared brightly, so brightly, and as he brought the hammer down it did more than simply crush the reanimated body. It cleaved through it, the light carving an arc through Teron Gorefiend, ripping through him until the dead flesh fell in a soggy, recking heap.

A horrible wailing pierced Turalyon's cars and he staggered back, staring in horror and disbelief as the jagged, shrieking wisp that was Teron Gorefiend's soul twisted upward from the wreckage of his body. The paladin lifted the glowing hammer and swung once more, but he was a fraction of a second too late, and the spirit was gone, shrieking in pain and frustration, fleeing into the crackling green and black sky. "Come on!" came Alleria's voice, startling Turalyon. His heart swelled to see her. He quickly leaped atop his horse and galloped toward her.

Riding ahead of them was Khadgar, and they caught up quickly. The death knight had been the temple's last barrier. Now they were within the Black Temple itself, and faced the long stairs winding up toward the top and the sickly light that pulsed forth from that height.

Alleria… Khadgar… Danath… Kurdran — damn it, they were not going to die here. With a physical shake of his head, Turalyon dispelled the last of the shadow's hold on him, gripped his hammer, and rode toward his destiny.