The Sundering

Seven

Archimonde watched his warriors forced back on all fronts. He watched as they died by the dozens on the blades of the defenders or ripped apart by the night elves’ feline mounts. He noted the scores more perishing under the brute force of the other creatures who had allied themselves with the host.

Archimonde watched it all… and smiled. They were without the wizard, without the druid and the mage… even without the brawny, green-skinned fighter whose base fury the demon found admirable.

“It is time…” he hissed to himself.

Jarod continued to try to wake Rhonin, but the wizard would not respond. The only response that the human had given thus far had been to open his eyes, but they were eyes that did not see, did not even hint of a mind behind them.

But still he tried. “Master Rhonin! You must stir! Something’s amiss, I know it!” The captain sprinkled water over the red-haired spellcaster’s face. It trickled off with no effect. “The demon lord’s up to something!”

Then, a peculiar noise caught his attention. It reminded Jarod of when he had used to watch flocks of birds landing in the trees. The fluttering of many wings echoed in his ears.

He looked up.

The sky was filled with Doomguard.

“Mother Moon…”

Each of the flying demons carried a burden in their arms, a heavy pot from which smoke trailed. The pots were far larger and heavier than any night elf could have borne and even the Doomguard appeared hardpressed to keep them, but keep them they did.

Jarod Shadowsong studied the swarm, watching how they flew as hard as they could for the defenders’ lines… and then went beyond. Below, it was doubtful that many even noticed them, so ferocious was the fighting. Even Lord Stareye likely saw only the dying demons before him.

The noble had to be warned. It was the only thing that made sense to Jarod. There was no one else. Krasus was gone.

Seizing Rhonin’s body, the captain dragged it over to a large rock. He positioned the wizard on the opposing side, away from the view of the battlefield. Hopefully, no one would see the robed figure there.

“Please… please forgive me,” the soldier asked the unmoving form.

Jarod leapt onto his mount and headed for where he had last seen the noble’s banner. But just as he left the area where he had secreted Rhonin, the foremost of the Doomguard suddenly hovered over the night elves. The captain saw the first one tip over his pot.

A boiling, red liquid poured down on the unsuspecting soldiers.

Their screams were awful. Most of those upon whom the deadly rain had fallen dropped writhing. From the single pot, nearly a score of night elves had been burned and maimed, some mortally.

And then the other winged demons began turning over their own containers.

“No…” he gasped. “No!”

A deluge of death washed over the defenders.

Rank upon rank of soldiers broke into utter chaos as each fought to protect themselves from the horror. They had stood up to blades and claws — dangers that could be battled with a weapon — but against the scalding horror unleashed by the Doomguard, there was nothing to be done.

The cries ringing in his head, Jarod urged his mount to its swiftest. He sighted Stareye’s banner, then, after a few tense moments, the noble himself.

What Jarod saw gave him no heart. The slim night elf sat atop his cat, his expression aghast. Desdel Stareye sat as if dead in the saddle. He watched the destruction of his grand plan with no obvious intention of doing anything to try to salvage the situation. Around him, his staff and guards stared helplessly at their commander. Jarod read no hope in their faces.

Managing to maneuver his night saber closer, the captain pushed past stunned guards and a noble with shaking hands to reach the commander. “My lord! My lord! Do something! We need to bring down those demons!”

“It’s too late, too late!” babbled Stareye, not looking at him. “We’re all doomed! It’s the end of everything!”

“My lord — ” Some inner sense caused Jarod to look sky-ward.

A pair of demons hovered above, their pots still filled.

Seizing the noble’s arm, Jarod shouted, “Lord Stareye! Move! Quickly!”

The other night elf’s expression hardened and he pulled his arm away in disdain. “Unhand me! You forget yourself, captain!”

Jarod stared incredulously at Stareye. “My lord — ”

“Away with you before I have you clapped in irons!”

Knowing he could do nothing to convince the noble otherwise, Jarod reined hard, forcing his mount away.

It was all that saved him.

The torrent that washed over Stareye and the others seared flesh and melted metal. In its death throes, Stareye’s night saber threw his sizzling body off. The noble landed in a monstrous heap, his arrogant features now a mangled horror nigh unrecognizable. His companions and guards fared little better; those that were not horridly slain lay twitching, their bodies ruined, their screams enough to chill the soul.

And Jarod could do nothing for them.

The Doomguard flew overhead all but untouched by the defenders. Sporadic fire from an archer here and there brought down a few, and some perished in manners that clearly had the touch of the Moon Guard on them, but there was no cohesive effort. Jarod found the lack of organization stunning, then recalled that Stareye had replaced all of his predecessor’s officers with his own sycophants.

More incomprehensible, there were even some elements of the night elf forces not yet in play. They anxiously stood by, awaiting commands that would never be given. Jarod realized that they did not know that Lord Stareye was dead and likely thought the noble would be calling upon them at any moment.

He quickly rode up to one contingent. The officer in charge saluted him.

“How many bows do you have?” Jarod asked.

“Threescore, captain!”

Hardly enough, but at least a start. “Get every bow set! I want them trained on those Doomguard now! The rest create a defensive square for them!”

The other night elf gave the order. Jarod looked around desperately for something else to use. Instead, another rider came racing up to him. The newcomer saluted in a manner that indicated immediately that Jarod was the first thing resembling an officer that he had seen.

“The wedge is flattened, the line barely holding by us!” He pointed behind himself to a location near the middle. “Lord Del’theon is dead and we’ve only a subofficer in charge! He sent me to find out someone to strengthen us!”

By this time, the troops that Jarod had taken over had already arranged themselves. Even as the captain considered what to do about the new problem, he saw almost a dozen Doomguard drop from the sky. It gave him a slight hint of hope, at least.

To the newcomer, he finally suggested, “Ride to the tauren! Tell them Captain Shadowsong asks of the people of Huln for some warriors to come with you and strengthen the wedge!” Jarod recalled something else, “Ask also for their their best archers…”

When he had finished, the other night elf, his own expression slightly less distraught, rode off to obey. Jarod barely had time to refocus his thoughts before two more came. The captain could only guess that he had been seen organizing resistance and that someone had foolishly believed he spoke in the name of the dead Stareye.

But despite knowing better, Jarod could not simply turn them away. He listened to their needs and battled to find some solution, however temporary.

To his surprise, one of the Moon Guard arrived shortly after. Although clearly one of the senior spellcasters, the robed figure looked relieved to confront Captain Shadowsong.

“The archers are slowing the damage the winged fiends have been causing! We’ve been able to reorganize, though three of our number are dead and two more are incapacitated! We are trying to deal with those above and the warlocks in the distance, but to do so we’ll need more protection!”

Jarod tried not to swallow. Hoping to avoid showing the sorcerer his uncertainty, he pretended to glance further down the left flank. There he saw several rows of soldiers milling about as they tried to reach the oncoming demons. The press of bodies in front of them prevented those in back from being of any benefit and, in fact, often shoved the ones ahead into the blades of their foe.

He pulled one soldier from the square. “You! Ride with him over there and take a squad from those ranks! Tell the rest to keep back a step and shore up the front lines as needed!”

On and on the demands came. They never allowed Jarod to catch his breath. There came a point when even the Earthen and the other allies began requesting his assistance. Jarod, never able to find someone of greater authority, ever answered their questions and prayed that he had not sent innocent lives to the slaughter.

At any moment, the captain expected to see the horde overwhelm his people, but somehow, the night elves held. The combined efforts of the Moon Guard and archers at last proved too decimating for the winged demons and they fled back, many still with the pots full. The host’s casualties had been high, but as matters quieted a little, Jarod hoped that something he had done had kept them from being higher yet.

When the captain finally had the opportunity to return to Rhonin, it was with half a dozen subordinates in tow. He had not asked for them; various officers in the host had insisted they stay with Jarod in case he needed to alert them to some need. The former Guard officer found their presence unsettling, for they treated him as if he were on par with either Ravencrest or Stareye. Jarod Shadowsong was no noble and certainly no commander; if the host had managed to recover from the near disaster, it was due mainly to the fighters themselves.

To his tremendous relief, the wizard was alive and untouched. Unfortunately, he still did not seem to see or hear anything despite looking as if awake.

Jarod tried once more to give him water, but to no avail. Frustrated, he turned to one of the soldiers and snapped, “Find me one of the senior Moon Guard! Hurry!”

Yet, it was not one of the sorcerers who came back with the rider, but rather a pair of figures clad in the armor of the Sisterhood of Elune. Worse, the senior priestess was none other than Maiev.

“When I was told that the officer in command needed a spellcaster, I never dreamed he was speaking of you, little brother!”

Captain Shadowsong had no time for his sister’s dominant tone. “Spare me the wit, Maiev! The wizard’s caught in some spell that I think one of the master demons cast! Can Elune help free him?”

She eyed him curiously for a moment, then knelt beside Rhonin. “I’ve never dealt with one of his kind, but I assume he’s similar enough to us that the Mother Moon will grant me the chance. Jia, assist me. We shall see what we can do.”

The second priestess stepped over to Rhonin’s other side. The two raised hands to chest level with the palms out, then pressed their fingertips together. The moment the priestesses touched one another, a faint, silver glow arose from their hands. It quickly spread along their arms and around the rest of their bodies.

Maiev and her companion began chanting. Their words made no sense to Jarod, but he knew that the Sisterhood of Elune had a special language of their own that they used to commune with the lunar deity.

The glow surrounding the females flowed over the wizard. His body jerked slightly, then relaxed.

Another rider joined the group. “Where’s the commander?”

Several of the past messengers had called Jarod by that very title despite his constant insistence that they do no such thing. Angered by the interruption at so delicate a time, he spun around and blurted, “You’ll keep your mouth shut and wait until I tell you it’s the right time to speak — ”

The mounted figure’s eyes widened. Only at that point did the captain see the gold and emerald trim on the shoulders or the emblem on the breast plate.

Jarod had insulted a noble.

But instead of taking offense, the rider nodded in apology and quieted. In an attempt to hide his shock, Jarod quickly turned back to watch his sister’s work.

Maiev was sweating. The second priestess shook. Rhonin’s body quivered and his already-pale flesh looked as white as the moon.

The wizard jolted to a sitting position. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream — and then, for the first time since being struck down, Rhonin blinked.

A groan escaped the human. He would have slumped back against the rock, possibly striking his head, but the captain acted, managing to thrust a hand in between.

With a sigh, the wizard closed his eyes. His breathing grew regular.

“Is he — ?”

“He’s free of the demon’s hold, brother,” Maiev replied somewhat shakily. “He will rest as long as he needs.” She rose. “It was a hard struggle, but Elune was generous, praise be.”

“Thank you.”

Again, his sister eyed him with curiosity. “No thanks are necessary from you of all people. Come, Jia. There are many in need of healing.”

Jarod followed Maiev’s departure, then turned his attention back to the noble. “Forgive me, my lord, but — ”

The rider waved off his words. “My troubles can wait. I failed to see that you sought aid for the foreign sorcerer. I am Lord Blackforest. I know you, don’t I?”

“Jarod Shadowsong, my lord.”

“Well, Commander Shadowsong, I, for one, am grateful you didn’t perish along with Lord Stareye and the others. There were reports you tried to save him even in the end.”

“My lord — ”

Blackforest ignored his interruption. “I’m trying to gather some of the others. Stareye’s strategy was clearly inept, may the Mother Moon forgive any slight toward the dead. We hope to come up with something better — if we’re to survive. You’ll want to be there, of course. To guide matters, I assume.”

This time, Jarod could not speak. He nodded, more out of reflex than anything. The noble apparently took this as determined agreement and gratefully nodded back.

“With your permission, then, I’ll have things arranged at my tent and begin gathering the rest.” Blackforest nodded once more, then turned his mount around and rode off.

“Looks — looks like — you’ve come up in the world,” a voice rasped.

He glanced down to see Rhonin conscious. The wizard still looked pale, but not so much as before. Jarod quickly bent down and gave him water from a sack. Rhonin eagerly drank.

“I’d feared that the spell had done damage to your mind. How fare you, Master Rhonin?”

“I feel as if a regiment of Infernals are battering my skull from the inside… and that’s an improvement.” The human sat up straight. “I gather there was trouble after I was struck down.”

The captain told him, keeping it as brief as possible and downplaying his role. Despite that, however, the wizard looked at Jarod in obvious admiration.

“Looks like Krasus was right about you. You did more than save the day, this time. You likely saved the world, at least for the moment.”

Cheeks darkening, the night elf vehemently shook his head. “I am no leader, Master Rhonin! All I did was try to survive.”

“Well, nice of you to help the rest of us survive while you were at it. So, Stareye’s dead. Sorry for him, not so sorry for the host. Glad to see some of the nobles have come to their senses. Maybe there’s hope yet.”

“Surely you don’t think I’m going to meet with them?” Jarod had a vision of Blackforest and the others surrounding him, their eyes all staring. “I’m only a Guard officer from Suramar!”

“Not anymore…” The wizard tried to rise, finally signaling his companion to help him. As he straightened, Rhonin met Jarod’s gaze. The human’s unique eyes seized his. “Not anymore.”

Korialstrasz had not yet learned the patience of his elder counterpart, Krasus, and so it was that he began to fidget. The red dragon knew well that it would be some time before the party would return — assuming that they did return — and although he tried to find peace during his wait, he could not. There were too many things running through his thoughts. Alexstrasza, the Burning Legion, the implications of Krasus’s presence, and more. He also recalled too well the punishment he had taken at Neltharion’s paws. Now his other self was fast approaching the sanctum of that fiend and there was more than a little concern that Krasus might fall prey to the Demon Soul.

In frustration, the red giant began scratching at the mountainside with one talon. Massive chunks of stone and earth that were no more than pebbles to the dragon dropped into the valley below. This, however, entertained Korialstrasz only for an hour. More agitated than ever, he started eyeing the dark sky and wondering if perhaps it was safe to take to the air for a few minutes.

A low roar echoed through the mountains.

All frustration thrust aside, a now alert Korialstrasz slipped down from his perch, planting his huge body on the side of the peak. He peered up, seeking the source of the sound.

A dark form slowly flew overhead. A small black dragon. The pace at which the other leviathan flew marked him as a sentinel.

Korialstrasz quietly hissed. Had the other simply been flying off somewhere, there would have been no cause for worry. However, that the black prowled this particular region meant danger to the plan.

Yet, he was crossed up as to whether he should remain hidden or seek out the guardian. If the others had not been noticed, then attacking the black might prove a fatal mistake. The sentinel could escape and warn his master. Then again, if left alone, the other dragon might discover Krasus and the rest, anyway, on his return flight.

Korialstrasz clutched the mountainside tight as he attempted to come to some quick conclusion. If the black flew too far away, the red might not be able to catch up to him —

The rock face under his claws gave way.

Caught unaware, Korialstrasz tumbled from the mountain as the entire side collapsed. The dragon instinctively spread his wings and righted himself, suffering only a few hard pelts from the massive avalanche he had inadvertently caused. He shook his head, clearing his tangled thoughts.

The roar in his ears was the only warning he had before the black struck him from behind.

Despite being slightly smaller, Korialstrasz’s attacker hit with powerful fury. The red was thrust toward the jagged ground at a ferocious speed. His left wing scraped painfully against the rocks.

Korialstrasz managed to stretch one forepaw against another peak, digging his claws deep. His momentum tore tons of rock from the other mountain, but slowed his descent enough to give him time to think. The red dragon tipped to one side, startling his foe and causing the black to lose hold.

As the second dragon tumbled back, Korialstrasz righted himself. He tried to rise up again, but his adversary still had one pair of claws on his back. The added weight made the strain terrible, but Korialstrasz would not give in.

Flapping as hard as he could, he twisted in mid-air. Using his tail, the red swung his rival against the nearest peak.

The black collided hard, sending a storm of rock below. His claws came free, but not before tearing off several scales. Korialstrasz roared. He felt blood trickle down his leg.

For a moment, both giants forgot the battle as they recovered from their injuries. Then, Korialstrasz’s foe made a lunge for his neck. The larger dragon got his wing up in time, literally batting away the black.

The strike knocked the last bit of fight out of Neltharion’s servant. With a last defiant roar, the ebony leviathan veered away from Korialstrasz.

“No!” Now that they had joined in battle, he dared not let the other dragon flee. The sentinel would alert his master, who would, in turn, suspect that more than a single red dragon lurked in the vicinity.

The black was smaller and, therefore, very swift, but Korialstrasz was sleek and cunning. As his adversary slipped around a passage, Korialstrasz took a different route. He had spent enough time staring at the landscape while he waited to know where some of the different valleys remerged.

Through the mountains, he flew. Ahead, the left side of a fork offered an enticing turn, but Korialstrasz knew that it was the one favoring the right that would lead him back to his quarry.

In the distance, he heard the hard flapping of his enemy’s wings. The red dragon grew concerned. He should have passed the other by this point, but the sound gave indication that the black one was instead widening the gap.

Pushing himself to his limits, Korialstrasz neared the point he had been seeking. Only a short distance more. He could not hear the flapping, but felt certain that he had finally gotten ahead.

He crossed back into the other valley —

There was a near collision of wings. Both dragons roared, more from surprise than fury. Korialstrasz spun around twice and the black dragon rammed sideways into a small peak, shattering the top.

But momentum was now with the smaller of the two. The black pushed ahead, regaining precious air.

Shaking his head and damning his poor luck, Korialstrasz pursued. He would catch the other dragon, no matter what it took. Too much had already been lost in this struggle…

His determination hardened, Korialstrasz roared once more and continued the chase.

But in pursuing the obvious, the red leviathan had missed something smaller below. Eyes watched — those who had eyes, that is — as the two huge beasts vanished in the distance.

“An impressive aerial display, don’t you think, Captain Varo’then?”

The scarred night elf snorted. “A fair enough fight, though too short.”

“And not enough bloodshed for you, I’d wager.”

“Never enough,” responded Azshara’s servant. “But more than enough prattle, Master Illidan. Is this proof we’re close at last?”

Illidan casually adjusted the scarf across his ruined eyes. For him, the battle between two such titans had been far more interesting, for these great creatures were of magic origins and so the sky had been filled with astonishing energies and brilliant colors. Malfurion’s brother had come to admire his new senses, they revealing to him a world such as he had never realized existed.

“I’d think that obvious, captain, although don’t you find it interesting to have not only a black dragon but a red one near here? Why do you suppose the second was in this area?”

“You said it yourself. This is a place where the beasts live.”

The sorcerer shook his head. “I said this was where we’d find the lair of the huge black one. That red was here for a specific reason.”

Varo’then’s marred face grew uglier as he realized just what his companion meant. “The other dragons want the disk! Makes the only sense!”

“Yes…” Illidan urged his mount along, the officer following. Behind them marched the demon warriors. “But they’d be so easily caught. You saw how they were beaten.” He considered further. “I think I recognized the markings on that red.”

“What of it? All those beasts are the same!”

“Spoken like a Highborne.” Illidan rubbed his chin as he mused. “No, I think that is the one I’ve met… and if that’s so, we might just have some familiar company ahead.”