The Demon Soul

Eight

Malfurion dreamed. He dreamed that he and Tyrande lived in a beautiful tree home in the midst of grand Suramar. It was the high time of the year and all was in bloom. Lush plant life covered the region like a beautiful carpet. The immense tree cooled them with its thick, shading foliage, and flowers of all colors and patterns surrounded the trunk's base.

Tyrande, clad in a glorious gown of yellow, green, and orange, played a silver lyre while their children, a boy and a girl, darted around the tree, giggling and laughing as they ran. Malfurion sat near the window of his proud abode, breathing in the fresh air and savoring the life he had attained. The world was at peace, and his family knew nothing but happiness…

Then, a violent tremor shook the tree. Malfurion clutched the window and saw with horror the homes and towers of Suramar quickly tumble over. Other structures collapsed. People screamed, and massive fires burst to life in every direction.

He looked for his children, but they were nowhere to be found. As for his mate, Tyrande continued to sit on one of the thick branches just outside, her fingers strumming a tune on the lyre.

Daring to lean out, Malfurion shouted, "Tyrande! Come inside! Quickly!"

But she ignored him, blithely caught up in her music despite the growing catastrophe and her own precarious position.

The tree house abruptly tipped. Malfurion tried using his druidic powers to keep it from collapsing, but nothing happened. The tree-all the flora-felt dead to his senses.

The house's fall finally awoke Tyrande. Dropping the lyre, she screamed and reached for Malfurion, but the distance was too great. Malfurion's mate lost her balance and slipped off the branch-

But a figure in black swiftly rose into the air, readily catching her. Illidan smiled magnanimously at Tyrande, then nodded congenially to his brother. However, instead of coming to Malfurion's aid, the other twin began to fly off with his catch.

"Illidan!" Malfurion shouted, trying to maintain his hold. "Come back!"

His sibling paused in midair. Still holding Tyrande tight, he turned and laughed at Malfurion.

And as he laughed, Illidan transformed, growing larger, more horrific. His garments tore as armor hidden underneath burst through. His skin color darkened and a savage, jagged tail sprouted from behind him. A clawed hand held out the druid's mate over the ruined city, shaking her like a rag doll.

And Malfurion stared in horror as Archimonde dangled Tyrande before him-

"Nooo!"

He bolted upright, then nearly tumbled off the night saber upon which he had been half-sitting. Strong but slim fingers kept him from losing what remained of his balance and pulled him tight against an armored torso. Recalling Archimonde, the druid instinctively sought to pull away from that armor.

"Hush, Malfurion! Be careful!"

Tyrande's voice brought him completely back to consciousness. He gazed up into her concerned face. She had the helmet back so that he could fully see her features, a most welcome sight.

"I dreamt-" he began, then stopped. There were parts of his dream that were too personal to tell one who was not promised to him. "I…dreamt," Malfurion concluded apologetically.

"I know. I heard you speak. I thought I heard my name, and Illidan's."

"Yes." He dared not say more.

The priestess touched his cheek. "It must've been a terrible dream, Malfurion…but at least you finally slept."

Suddenly aware of his close proximity to her, the druid straightened. He looked around, noting for the first time the sea of figures surrounding them. Most were civilians, many of whom looked confused and completely out of their element. Few night elves had ever suffered much. This displacement surely had to have pushed many to the brink.

"Where are we?"

"Near Mount Hyjal."

He gaped at the peak. "So far? This can't be!"

"I'm afraid it is."

Malfurion hung his head. So, after all their efforts, his people were still doomed. If the demons had already driven the defenders this far back, how could the night elves possibly hope to recover?

"Elune watches over us," Tyrande whispered, reading his expression. "I pray to her for guidance. She'll give us some reprieve, I'm certain."

"I hope so. Where are the others?"

"Your brother is with the Moon Guard, over there." She pointed north. "I've not seen Krasus or the others."

It was not Illidan to whom Malfurion desired to speak. After his confrontation with Archimonde, the druid wanted desperately to find the wizards. They had to be warned that the powerful demon led the forces pursuing them.

That assumed, of course, that Krasus and the rest still lived. Had Archimonde hunted them down after dealing with Malfurion?

"Tyrande, I've got to find the outsiders. I believe they are still the key to our survival."

"You'll never make it on foot. You're still weak. Take my night saber."

He felt ashamed that she would sacrifice her own mount for his possibly-futile search. "Tyrande, I-"

But she gave him a look that he had never seen before, a steadfast, determined expression such as Malfurion had noticed only on the most senior, most dedicated priestesses of Elune. "It is important, Malfurion. I know that."

She slipped off the huge cat before he could argue again. Taking only her pack and her weapons, Tyrande looked up at the druid and insisted, "Go."

Unable to do anything but nod his thanks, Malfurion shifted his position, then urged the night saber through the throng. He was determined that he would not fail Tyrande's trust; if the others lived, Malfurion would find them.

The cat battled its way through soldiers and civilians, snarling but never striking despite its obvious discomfort of being surrounded by so many bodies. The druid was pleased to see that the soldiers had kept order for the most part. The majority of the civilians were being politely but firmly herded on, their pace consistent. The demons had no doubt counted on the chaos caused by mixing the two diverse groups together. At least that danger had so far been avoided.

But with so many more bodies added to the host, finding even three such unique figures as the orc, the human, and Krasus proved daunting. Only after letting his gaze sweep over the crowds for the dozenth time did Malfurion finally think to make use of his arts.

He refused to enter the Emerald Dream just yet, as there were other means by which he believed he might sense them. Reining the night saber to a halt, the druid shut his eyes and reached out around him. Throughout the region, he touched the minds of the other night sabers that he could see, speaking to them as he had the beasts of the forest during his lessons. Malfurion even touched the mind of Tyrande's mount so as not to miss the slightest chance of a sighting. The cats, well-familiar with their masters, surely would notice the differing scents of the three strangers.

But the first animals did not recognize those the druid sought. Bracing himself, Malfurion stretched his senses farther, reaching to creatures far beyond his sight. Some of the refugees carried with them pets, and even those Malfurion asked. The more minds he contacted, the better his odds.

At last, one of the dark panthers responded. The answer came not in words, but rather smells and images. It took the druid a moment to digest them, but in the end he realized that this creature had recently seen the orc. Brox was the most distinctive of the trio, and so it was small wonder that the night saber would recall him best. To the cat, the warrior was a mix of heady, thick smells reminiscent of the deeplyburied wild side of the mount. In Brox, the night saber sensed a kindred spirit. In fact, the animal's image of the tusked warrior made the orc resemble a night saber on its hind legs, one arm ending in a huge pair of claws that had to be Brox's ax.

Finding out exactly when and where the cat had seen Brox proved a bit trickier. Animals did not measure time and distance as night elves did. Yet, with some effort, the druid finally determined that the panther had seen Brox only an hour or two earlier, near the center part of the great exodus.

Veering his own mount in that direction, Malfurion continued to ask other night sabers of any sightings. More and more, he came upon those who recalled not only Brox, but also Rhonin and Krasus. Something about the elder mage now took prominence in the creatures' minds; they looked to him with a respect that such able predators reserved only for far superior ones. However, they did not fear Krasus as they might have another beast, almost as if they understood that he was something much, much more. In truth, Malfurion soon discovered that the night sabers would have been more likely to obey a command by Krasus than they would the handlers who had raised them.

Marking this as yet another of the many mysteries surrounding the not-quite-night-elven mage, Malfurion spurred his cat to greater speed. The going was difficult, for they rode against the living tide, but with the druid's guidance, the night saber made headway without injuring any of those in its path.

The general situation worsened as he approached where the outsiders had to be. The sounds of battle rose in the distance and unsettling flashes of crimson and dank green light rose from the horizon. Here the soldiers were more wary and exhausted. These were clearly those who had been most recently up on the front line holding the demons back. The scars and terrible wounds Malfurion passed gave testament to the unabated fury of the Burning Legion.

"What are you doing here?" demanded an officer with blood and ichor on his once-immaculate armor. His eyes teared. "All noncombatants to the head of the flow! Begone with you!"

Before the druid could explain, someone behind Malfurion called, "He's supposed to be up here, captain! That should be plain with just a look at his face!"

"Illidan?" Glancing over his shoulder, Malfurion saw his brother, virtually unscathed, riding up. Illidan wore the first grin that his twin had seen in his journey; it looked so out of place in the situation that Malfurion feared his sibling had gone mad.

"I had thought you lost!" the sorcerer said, slapping Malfurion hard on the shoulder. Failing to notice his brother wince, Illidan turned to the officer. "Any more questions?"

"No, Master Illidan!" The soldier saluted quickly and moved on.

"What happened to you, brother?" the black-clad twin asked. "Someone said that they saw you struck down, your mount torn to pieces…"

"I was saved…Tyrande brought me to safety." The instant he mentioned her name, Malfurion regretted it.

The grin remained, but the good humor behind it fled. "Did she? I'm glad that she was so close to you."

"Illidan-"

"It's good that you're here at this time," the druid's sibling went on, cutting off any further discussion of the priestess. "The old wizard's been trying to organize something and he seems to think you're important."

"Krasus? Where is he?"

The sorcerer's grin grew almost macabre. "Why, just where you're heading, brother. Up at the very edge of the fight…"

The wind howled. An oppressive heat tore at the night elves who had been chosen to be the defending line. Now and then, a cry would come from somewhere in the ranks, and the triumphant roars of a demon would immediately follow.

"Where is Illidan?" Krasus asked, even his tremendous patience wearing thin. "The Moon Guard refuses to act without him save to shield themselves!"

"He said he was coming," Rhonin interjected. "He needed to speak with Ravencrest first."

"He will receive credit enough if we succeed, and no one will blame him if we fail, for we'll all be dead…"

Rhonin could not argue with his former mentor. Illidan wanted nothing more than to please his patron. Malfurion's brother was the opposite of the druid-ambitious, wild, and oblivious of the risks to others. The two wizards had already discovered that three of the Moon Guard they had hoped in part to rely on were no longer available. The demons had not slain them; they were simply crippled with exhaustion from feeding Illidan their power.

Yet, despite his reckless use of the other night elves, they appeared to have bound themselves to him. When it came to casting spells of any substance, Illidan could do what they could not. He also had the political backing of Lord Ravencrest, and night elves were nothing if not status-conscious, even in the face of annihilation.

Rhonin suddenly straightened. "Beware!"

What resembled most a floating mushroom made of mist descended upon the line. Before the spellcasters could act, the edges touched where the soldiers stood.

Several of the fighters screamed as their faces suddenly swelled with dozens of red, burning pustules. One after another, the pustules burst, regrew, and burst again, spreading rapidly over any unprotected part of the victim's body.

"Jekar iryn!" Krasus hissed, gesturing at the cloud.

A blast of rich, blue light ate away at the foul mushroom with such swiftness that scores more were saved from the horrendous plague. Unfortunately, there was no saving those already affected. They dropped one after another, their ravaged flesh reminiscent of a field of erupting volcanoes.

Rhonin stared in disgust. "Horrible! Damn them!"

"Would that we could! We can wait no longer! If the Moon Guard will not follow our lead, then we must hope we can do something by ourselves!"

But as the wizards prepared to do just that, Rhonin spotted a pair of riders approaching. "Illidan comes-and he's got Malfurion with him!"

"Praise the Aspects!" Krasus turned to meet the duo. As they rode up, he set himself before Malfurion's brother. "You are late! Gather the Moon Guard! You must be ready to follow my lead!"

From most others, Illidan likely would have not taken such a brusque command, but he had a healthy respect for both wizards, especially Rhonin. Peering over Krasus and seeing Rhonin's dark expression, the sorcerer nodded, then hurried to obey.

"What do you hope to do?" asked Malfurion, dismounting.

"The demons must be stopped here," Krasus answered. "It is vital that we not be pushed back beyond Mount Hyjal and that we turn this rout into an aggressive attack on our part!"

The druid nodded, then said, "Archimonde is out there. I barely escaped him."

"I had suspected that he was." Krasus considered the night elf. "And the fact that you lived through a confrontation with him says I was correct in desiring your presence at this moment."

"But-what can I do?"

"What you have been trained to do, naturally."

With that, Krasus turned back to Rhonin, who had already set himself to face the distant demons. The elder mage stood next to his former pupil, with Malfurion imitating him a moment later.

Krasus glanced at the human. "Rhonin, in matters of magic, Illidan looks to you more than anyone. I leave it to you to establish a link with him."

"As you wish." The fiery-tressed figure blinked once. "It's done."

The mage returned his attention to the druid. "Malfurion, imagine the most powerful spell you think you can cast. But by all means, do not tell me what it is! Use whatever method, whatever contact with the powers of the world you require, but do not complete your casting until I say so. We must be relentless against our foes."

"I…I understand."

"Good! Then, we begin. Follow my lead. Rhonin?"

"I'm ready," the younger wizard replied. "I know just what I want to do."

Krasus's eyes widened. "Ah! One other detail, Malfurion; be prepared to randomly shift the focus of your attack. Move your spell to wherever it seems there is a gap in our effort. Do you understand?"

"I believe so."

"May the powers of light be with us, then."

That said, Krasus abruptly froze. His eyes stared unblinking across the gap separating the night elves from the demons.

Rhonin quickly leaned toward Malfurion. "Use everything. Leave no defenses. This is all or nothing."

"They are approaching the point." Krasus informed his companions. "Would that Archimonde be among the first ranks."

They could all sense the approaching horde. The evil permeated the very air, sending a foul radiation their way. Even Krasus shuddered, but from disgust, not fear.

"Rhonin, I have Jarod Shadowsong prepared. Are the Moon Guard ready?"

"Yes."

"Almost…" The pale visage tightened. Krasus's eyelids flickered. "Now."

They had no knowledge of one another's attack, exactly how Krasus intended it. He desired true random effort, the better to foul up whatever defense Archimonde and the others might devise. His plan had as much potential for disaster-if not more even-than success, but that very fact was what the dragon mage counted on.

From the clouds suddenly dropped glittering spears of ice that fixed on the enemy horde. To the north, the ground shook, and demons suddenly scattered as the earth swelled. Elsewhere, huge, black birds appeared from nowhere, heading toward the airborne elements of the Legion.

All along the front, one spell after another assaulted the enemy. Some were concentrated in specific areas while others seemed to act everywhere. No two were alike and although a few appeared to be in conflict with one another, they did far worse damage to the oncoming horde.

Demons died pierced by ice, burned by crimson flame, or buried by molten earth. Those in the sky fell beaten and torn by hundreds of claws or tumbled to their deaths after winds tossed them against one another.

The Eredar attempted to counter, but Krasus suddenly commanded, "Shift your focus!"

Immediately, Malfurion, Rhonin, and-to the north-the Moon Guard and Illidan altered the direction in which they focused their spells. Krasus sensed the warlocks grow confused, uncertain as to where to first apply their counter-assaults. On the ground, the Fel Guard and other demon warriors tried in vain to defend against something that their weapons could not cut in two or impale.

The relentless advance finally came to a halt.

"They are stalled!" shouted Krasus. "Shift focus again and push harder! We must begin to retake ground!"

Again they adjusted the locations of their attacks. A few areas quieted, but just as the Burning Legion sought to take advantage of those lulls, someone among the spellcasters filled the gaps. Nowhere could the demons now stand their positions, much less press forward.

"They're giving way!" Malfurion called.

"Do not let up!" Krasus gritted his teeth. "Rhonin, I am alerting the captain!"

The druid dared to look at the human for a moment. "What does he mean?"

"It took some convincing, but Shadowsong rode to Ravencrest! He's been waiting for our signal!"

"For what?"

In answer, the battle horns sounded. A sudden electricity filled the night elves. Gone was the dying hope, the resignation. Once more the soldiers responded to the horns' cries with vigor, and the host advanced.

The spellcasters adjusted as they, too, slowly moved forward on foot. Their trained cats following close behind, they marched with the soldiers toward the enemy.

And finally the Burning Legion began to retreat full.

First the night elves crossed the ruined gap that the Moon Guard and wizards had earlier wrought to buy them time. Then they started to climb their way over the first of the demon dead. They also passed many of their own, lost hours earlier, but more and more, it was the demons who lay as corpses before the soldiers. The Burning Legion, softened by the unpredictable attacks of the spellcasters, fell away easily as the night elves cut into them.

Another set of horns blew. A lengthy, well-savored roar of anticipation unexpectedly erupted throughout the host. The night elves surged forward, more than doubling their pace.

"Ravencrest must follow the plan!" Krasus snapped. "They cannot chase the Legion too far or too fast!"

A flight of arrows fell upon the demons, slaying scores more. Panther riders charged the remaining fragments of the opposing line, the great cats eagerly tearing into their prey.

Malfurion's heart beat swifter. "We're doing it!"

"Do not let up!" stressed the mage.

They did not. Fueled by their success, the druid and the others continued adding to the support of the troops. Exhausted though they might be, they understood well that this was a most critical juncture. Mount Hyjal still loomed behind them, but now it receded slightly.

Then, another welcome surprise-chanting came from the center of the advance. The Sisterhood of Elune, resplendent in their battle armor, strengthened the fighters further. Day might have held precedence at the moment, but the priestesses' rhythmic singing literally fed the nocturnal warriors. It was as if the moon herself suddenly hung over the host.

Yard by yard they struggled, demons falling with each step. Krasus looked to the shrouded sky and said, "Now! Strike the Eredar at will!"

Every spellcaster focused his efforts on the airborne warlocks. Thunder ravaged the sky. Lightning flashed in a jarring display of colors. Winds howled.

They could not see the results of their attacks, but they could sense them in other ways. The Eredar tried to regroup, but they had to also protect their bearers. That left them strained, weaker. Whenever a spell slew one of the demon mages, the defenders felt a sudden lessening of the evil forces arrayed against them. And the more that happened, the harder Krasus's group attacked the survivors.

At last, the warlocks pulled completely back. Their retreat left the monstrous warriors on the ground bereft of any shield against the wizards and the Moon Guard.

"They're fleeing!" Malfurion whispered, awed by the success of his party.

"They are too valuable. Archimonde will need them again," Krasus replied more dourly. "And he will need them again. The war is not won, but the battle is saved."

"Should we not keep after them until we push them through the portal and back into their hellish domain?"

Krasus chuckled, so unusual a sound from him that even Rhonin started. "You sound more like your brother than you, Malfurion. Let not the euphoria of the moment take you too far. This host will never survive a pitched battle all the way back to Zin-Azshari. They are running on will alone right now."

"Then…what is the point?"

"Look around you, young night elf. Your people survive. That is more than they thought they could do only an hour before."

"Will Ravencrest follow your instructions, though?" asked Rhonin, peering back to look for the noble's banner.

"I believe he will. Look there, to the north."

The advance had slowed there and now the soldiers seemed more interested in securing the ground that they had gained rather than taking more. Mounted officers went about waving other soldiers back to the main group. Some seemed a bit disappointed, but others looked more than happy to rest, even if they still had to stand to do it.

Within minutes, the entire front line had completely halted. Night elves soon began clearing the carnage and creating a strong front line, with solemn but determined warriors positioning themselves to repel anyone who might seek to undo the miracle that they had accomplished.

And only then did Krasus exhale. "He listened. Praise the Aspects. He listened."

Ahead of them they could see only the vague shapes of the horde. The Burning Legion had moved far beyond the range of the arrows, even beyond the efforts of the weary spellcasters at the moment.

"We've done it," Rhonin uttered, his voice almost a croak. "We kept them from pushing us back beyond Mount Hyjal."

"Yes," murmured Krasus, eyes not on the demons, but rather the haggard defenders. "Yes, we did. Now the most difficult part begins."