The Sundering

Eight

Malfurion watched the goblin wend his way through the narrowing cracks and while he understood that Krasus had needed to animate the body, it still unnerved him. Even the mage’s reassurance that this was a spell little used and even less desired by his kind did not completely assuage the night elf.

Yet, he gave no outer sign of his emotions save to stand as far as he could from the creature. Curiously, the goblin’s movements grew more adept as time passed, almost to the point where he seemed to have actually come back to life.

To the druid’s surprise, it was Krasus who first mouthed what the others had been long thinking.

“How much farther?” muttered the pale, robed figure. “This abuse of the tenets of life disgusts me more and more…”

As if in answer, the goblin suddenly bent over. Malfurion glanced at Krasus, thinking that perhaps the mage had become so sick of what he had been doing that he had finally just released the body from the spell. However, the contemplative expression his companion wore said otherwise.

“Watch…” Krasus murmured. “Watch…”

The animated goblin touched a stone lying near the base of the mountain. To Malfurion’s eyes, the stone appeared to be just a random one that had no doubt fallen from the peak some time back.

Yet, as soon as the creature turned it slightly to the right, the entire rock face shimmered — and more than half of it disappeared.

Brox let out a grunt. Krasus nodded.

“Very cunning,” he remarked. “Look, where once there was stone, to the left is now a narrow passage cut through the peak itself.”

They followed their macabre guide for several more minutes, then Krasus suddenly had the goblin come to a halt.

“Listen…”

Somewhere far away, they heard the chitter of goblin voices and the constant hammering of metal.

The druid stiffened. “We’ve reached it.”

“And so we can put an end to this obscenity…” Krasus waved his hand and the goblin turned. The animated figure crawled over a rock, vanishing from sight. A moment later, the dragon mage made a cutting action. “He will be found… but after we are through here.”

Krasus started forward, but Malfurion suddenly seized his arm. “Wait,” the druid whispered. “You can’t go in there.”

He was rewarded with a rare glimpse of the mage caught off guard. Krasus stared deep. “You have a reason for saying this at such a late hour?”

“I didn’t think of it until a short time ago. Krasus, of all of us, he’ll notice you easiest. You’re one of his own kind. He’ll be expecting the dragons to try to steal the Demon Soul away from him.”

“But my kind is most susceptible and so we would be more likely to stay far from it. Besides, I have shielded myself well.”

Nodding, Malfurion continued, “And your kind also has the most to lose while the disk is still his. It behooves the dragons to at least try… and that’s what the Earth Warder will think, too. Inside, he’ll surely be on guard for any dragon magic, especially such shields.”

“And he is an Aspect…” The slim figure pursed his lips. Malfurion expected Krasus to eloquently explain why the night elf’s thinking was incorrect, but, at last, the robed mage replied, “You speak the truth. We would try and he would expect us to try. I know him well. It is something I should have considered earlier, but I suspect I wanted so badly to ignore it. I am fortunate enough to have come this far, but his lair will surely be arranged so as to trap any dragon other than his own.”

“As I thought.”

“Which does not mean that you and Brox will have it any easier,” Krasus reminded him. “Yet, the audacity of two of the lesser races sneaking through his very sanctum might slip by him, if just barely.”

“Brox should stay with you.”

“No, the orc is better suited to assisting you. There are many physical dangers, least of which are far more goblins than what we’ve come across. You will need to concentrate on securing the Demon Soul and, while I will assist as much as I can from out here, someone must watch your back inside.”

“No one will harm him,” rumbled Brox. He hefted the ax and grinned. “Make me a good song, elder one?”

Krasus gave a rare smile. “I will begin composing it the moment we are rid of this place.”

Unable to come up with any other argument as to why he should enter alone, Malfurion accepted the orc’s company. In truth, the night elf was glad to have him. Brox’s sturdy demeanor and powerful arm made stepping into the dragon’s lair a little less daunting.

A little.

But Malfurion knew that it had to be done and he believed that he had the best chance. It was no sense of ego that drove him, only some feeling that all he had studied somehow made him the proper choice.

It was decided that Brox would initially lead the way, with Malfurion taking over when he began to recognize his surroundings. Brox harnessed his ax for the beginning, the passage too narrow for proper use of the huge weapon. Instead, the orc drew a long dagger, which he wielded with clear expertise.

“I will keep watch from here,” Krasus promised as they departed. “I can at least do that without the black one noticing.”

It was fortunate for them that the goblins used the tunnel to bring raw materials in or else even Malfurion would have had trouble fitting inside. As it was, Brox had to keep his arms close to his body most of the time. The orc held the dagger in front of him, watching and listening.

The sounds ahead grew more incessant. Malfurion hoped that such a racket would work to their advantage. If the goblins were distracted by the noise they created, they might not notice the pair.

A dim light ahead finally illuminated the curving tunnel. Brox visibly tensed. Malfurion put a hand on his shoulder.

“If I’m correct,” the druid whispered. “When we entered the caverns, the passage that the dragon took should be to the left.”

Brox grunted understanding and led on. Their path grew brighter and the noise began to reach manic levels.

The sight that met their eyes was even more chaotic than what Malfurion had earlier witnessed. There were at least twice as many goblins as before and all scurried about as if their very lives depended upon it… likely the truth. Several worked to break down huge piles of raw ore, while others tossed fuel into the towering furnaces. Through a system of massive pots on moving chains, an unceasing flow of molten metal poured into gargantuan molds. Beyond that, vast vats of water awaited those molds that had already been filled. Sweating goblins bathed in steam worked to secure one mold already set in a vat.

Far to the pair’s right, two massive plates already forged lay discarded, previous attempts that had failed. There were fine cracks in the metal, making them useless for whatever task the dragon desired them.

“I still don’t understand what they want with all this,” muttered Malfurion. “Does the dragon plan a suit of armor for himself?”

The orc’s brow crushed together. “With that one, could be anything…”

Tearing himself from the enigma, the night elf studied their left. Sure enough, a path ran along the edge toward a gargantuan passage, the same one he recalled Neltharion using.

“There! We follow along there!”

Brox nodded, but kept Malfurion from stepping out of the tunnel. “Goblins below. Must wait.”

The creatures in question toiled at removing rubble left over from the ore. The druid studied the progress of the work and quickly realized that the goblins would be there much too long.

“We need them away or distracted, Brox…”

“Spell, maybe.”

Malfurion considered the contents of his belt pouches, then studied the cavern. There were a couple of things that might just work —

But as he reached into one pouch, the monstrous voice of Neltharion shook the huge chamber. “Meklo! I have returned! This next shall work or I will dine on every miserable one of your kind… with you as my appetizer!”

From the far side of the chamber, the aproned goblin whom Malfurion had seen previous suddenly came running. He kicked several of those working, urging them to greater speed, then trotted toward the tall passage. All the while he muttered to himself what Malfurion’s sharp ears thought were more calculations.

But even before Meklo could reach the tunnel, from out of it burst the black dragon.

An oath escaped Brox — who had not seen how the transformation had even more consumed Neltharion — but, fortunately, it was drowned out by the giant’s bellowing.

“Meklo! You misbegotten get of a worm! My good patience is at an end! Have you the new plates or not?”

“Two! Two, my lord! See? See?” He gestured to where several workers toiled to remove a pair of the gargantuan pieces of metal from their molds. Despite the water vats, they still sizzled with residual heat, enough to burn someone badly.

“Stronger than the last, I hope! They failed miserably!”

His head bobbing up and down, the grizzled goblin declared, “The finest blending of metals! Stronger than steel! And imbued with the energies you presented, they’ll last up to any strain even though they will feel as light as a feather!”

As if to emphasis this last, the goblins working on the first of the plates easily carried it about even though Malfurion would have expected that they would need ten times their number.

Neltharion eyed the plate with eagerness. His breath quickened as the still-red metal passed near.

“All we need do is set it in the water tank for a short time, then — ”

“NO!” burst out the Earth Warder.

The goblin quivered. “B-beg pardon, my lord?”

Eyes manic, the dragon continued to stare at the plate. “I want it sealed on now!”

“But the remaining heat will only add to the stress on you! The bolts already have to be hot out of necessity! It would truly be prudent to wait — ”

The ebony leviathan stomped the floor with one paw — coming within inches of Meklo. “Now…”

“Yes, my Lord Neltharion! At once, my Lord Neltharion! Move you sluggards!” Meklo blurted the last at the goblins still trying to maneuver the plate.

As they turned about, the dragon headed toward a large, open space against the far wall. While Malfurion and the orc watched in curiosity, the leviathan settled down, exposing his right flank in the process. The great, gaping rips continued to burn with fire.

“Secure it!” Neltharion roared. “Secure it!”

“What do they mean to do with that?” the night elf muttered.

Brox shook his head, as bewildered as him.

“Get the bolts ready, the bolts ready!” Meklo ordered. “As hot as possible!”

Two crews of a dozen goblins began maneuvering a huge pair of tongs into a furnace. As the druid watched, they plucked from it a massive bolt at least as large as the orc.

“Hammer crew! Ready the machine!”

A groaning noise came from the right. A score of goblins pulled what at first looked like a peculiar catapult toward the dragon. Yet, this machine had no cup, but rather a gigantic metal head that was flat on one end. There were chains and pulleys attached to it whose purposes Malfurion could not in the least fathom.

“The plate!” Neltharion’s impatience grew. “Set it in place, I say!”

With frantic effort, the goblins obeyed. They swayed back and forth several times as they neared the dragon’s flank — not because of the panel’s weight, but rather Neltharion’s breathing, which apparently made the spot they sought shift more than the tiny creatures could handle. Finally, at a signal from Meklo, they leaned forward and let the plate fall against the scaled hide.

The two onlookers stepped back in shock as metal and flesh collided. A searing sound echoed through the cavern. The terrible rip underneath caused the plate to shake, but it did not slip off.

“It’s holding so far!” Meklo announced to all. “Quick! The first of the bolts!”

Malfurion could scarce believe what he was witnessing. “They — they’re actually going to seal it to his very flesh! That’s madness! Madness!”

Brox said nothing, his eyes narrowed, his hand clutching the dagger so tightly that his knuckles were white.

The Earth Warder had a look almost like bliss. His great mouth was twisted into a reptilian smile and his crimson eyes were half veiled. His chest rose and fell faster and faster in anticipation.

Those goblins working the tongs brought the gigantic bolt toward one of the several holes located around the edge of the plate. At a quick glance, the night elf counted at least a dozen such holes. Were each intended for a bolt that would be driven deep through the scales?

Again, the rocking motion of the dragon’s body caused the goblins some difficulty. On their third try, they managed to catch one of the upper holes. The bolt slid partway in, the creatures using the long tongs to keep it there as best as possible.

Meklo immediately waved to the other crew. “Get the hammer in place! Ready it for immediate striking!”

With more grunts and groans, the goblins pulled the device in front of Neltharion. The giant’s half-veiled eyes watched eagerly as the dragon’s servants adjusted the machine’s position.

Meklo leapt atop it with an agility surprising for his age, then peered down at the bolt. He had the crew correct slightly before leaping off.

“Pull!” the goblin leader called.

The same group that had guided the machine now seized the chains and tugged on them in various fashion. How exactly the goblins’ creation worked was beyond the druid, but the results of their actions was not.

The flat end of the massive metal head came down hard on the bolt.

The collision sent forth a bone-shattering sound. The bolt sank in deep, almost to its own head.

Neltharion roared, but whatever pain was in his cry was mixed with clear satisfaction.

“Again!” the dragon roared. “Again!”

Meklo climbed up, studied where the bolt lay, and once more had his underlings move the machine. Satisfied, he leapt off, crying as he landed, “Pull!”

The other goblins tugged on the chains. The various pulleys turned here and there — and the hammer came down again.

Neltharion’s cry this time drowned out the actual strike. The bolt sank deeper.

“It’s in!” the chief goblin called out.

The only response to his words was a tremendous laugh by the black dragon.

“Hurry on with the next bolt!” Meklo ordered. “Hurry on with it, I say!”

In the tunnel, Malfurion, still shivering, dropped against the wall. “He means to have all those plates attached to his body! Why? Why?”

“Defense…” replied the orc. “Strong, but light. You saw that.” Brox shrugged. “Also maybe to keep from ripping apart…”

“But the pain! You saw how deep that one went! And the plate itself… it’s still hot, too!”

“He is mad… but maybe his madness will help us, druid.”

He had Malfurion’s interest. “What do you mean?”

Brox pointed into the cavern. “The eyes of the goblins…”

At first, the druid was not certain as to what the orc referred, but then he noticed that every one of the creatures had halted in what he was doing to watch the astounding events unfold. They could scarcely be blamed for doing so, yet, it did indeed offer the pair the chance for which they had been looking.

“We need to time it for when they get the next bolt ready,” Malfurion realized.

“Aye. That’ll be soon, too, druid.”

Already the goblins with the tongs had returned to where the bolts were made. They seized one and brought it to the furnace. Even from where Malfurion stood, he could feel the heat from within and it did not surprise him when the creatures quickly removed the bolt, which now glowed red-hot.

“Must be ready,” Brox urged.

They watched as the goblins brought the bolt toward Neltharion. The dragon only had eyes for the work being done upon him. He looked at the bolt as if at a lover.

“Hurry… hurry…” the Earth Warder rumbled.

As the bolt was raised up to a location on the opposite end of the plate, Malfurion and Brox braced themselves. Much too slowly, the piece of metal neared the hole…

As it slipped partway in, they started forward. Switching to his ax, Brox led the way, the orc ready should some goblin happen to enter the cavern from the great passage. Below them, Meklo barked at those working the machine. The creaking of the device as it was moved covered any noise made by the intruders.

They had nearly made it halfway along the path when the goblins got their creation in place. A sudden silence filled the chamber, causing Malfurion and his companion to freeze.

The druid kept one hand by the pouch he had chosen earlier. If the goblins noticed them, he had items within for one spell that would, he hoped, keep the creatures and their master busy while the pair fled.

But Meklo began shouting orders again and things resumed as hoped. As the hammer was readied, first the orc, then the night elf, reached the end of the pathway.

From behind them, the lead goblin’s high-pitched voice once again called, “Pull!”

The crack of the hammer vibrated in Malfurion’s head as he and Brox rushed down the passage. The foul images of what the dragon was having done to himself reverberated even more. Madness had truly consumed Neltharion and the name by which Krasus and Rhonin especially called him seemed far more apt.

Deathwing.

Brox slowed down, allowing Malfurion to catch up. “Druid… the way here is yours now.”

The night elf already recognized parts of the passage, enough so that he felt he could indeed locate the disk’s hiding place. That hardly meant that the pair were well on their way to success, for the lair of the Earth Warder would certainly have other dangers.

Behind them, there came another clang, followed by the chilling laughter of the black leviathan. The last especially urged Malfurion to greater swiftness.

It took far longer than he expected to reach the first turn. Malfurion had not taken into account either the dragon’s much longer stride or his own ability — when in dream form — to easily glide with enough speed to keep up with the beast. That meant that their journey was going to take much more time.

He told this to the orc, who, typical of him, merely shrugged and replied, “Then, we run faster.”

And so they did. Even then, it seemed forever before the first turn and even longer before the second. Yet, Malfurion took heart from the fact that he recognized more and more features. They were by now at least midway to their goal…

Brox suddenly grabbed the night elf’s shoulder, throwing him to the side of the tunnel. Malfurion started to speak, but the warrior shook his head.

The druid heard thundering steps, the cause of the orc’s concern. As the pair pressed themselves into the curved wall of the towering tunnel, a murky form stepped from another passage into theirs.

It walked on two legs and had a shape vaguely akin to the two intruders. Protrusions jutted out from all over its body and it walked with a peculiar gait. The head was distorted and at first, Malfurion could see no eyes.

As it drew nearer, the night elf nearly gasped.

The creature was formed from rock, but not in the manner by which either the Earthen or the Infernals were. Rather, what stood before them looked as if someone had piled boulders one on top of another, forming a crude statue of sorts. Yet, despite its appearance, it moved quickly enough for Malfurion to realize that, if it saw them, they would be hardpressed to escape.

The stone figure paused, seeming to scan the area. It did indeed have eyes, if two black gaps in what passed for its head counted. They looked with special interest toward where the duo hid… then moved on to study another part of the path.

The guardian — it could be nothing else — took two more steps, which brought it directly even with the druid and the fighter. As tall as any dragon, it dwarfed the night elf. Watching one blocky foot rise and fall, he imagined being crushed flat.

For several anxious moments, it studied its surroundings. Malfurion began to grow certain that it suspected their presence, but at last the giant moved on, heading in the direction from which the two had come.

When it was far from sight, the druid and his companion crept out of their hiding place.

“Do you think it’ll come back?” Malfurion asked.

“Yes… so we must hurry.”

They continued down the winding passages, the night elf pausing more than once to collect his bearings. Once, the two went several yards down one tunnel, only to have Malfurion discover that he had gone the wrong direction.

At last, however, they came across a narrow cavern that Malfurion could never forget. He paused at the entrance, stunned that they had finally reached their destination.

“It’s up there.” The night elf pointed up at the false protrusion. “Right where that sticks out. Just to the left of that crack.”

Brox clearly did not see it, but as he harnessed his ax, he said, “Will take your word, druid.”

There remained, however, the difficulty of reaching it. Again, what had been so easy to deal with when in his dream form was now high, high up. The Demon Soul’s hiding place required a sturdy — not to mention, dangerous — climb.

In the background, they could still hear the hammering and the dragon’s occasional roars. Urged on by that, the pair began climbing. Malfurion, being more nimble, at first took the lead, but Brox’s strength and endurance soon had them moving at more or less the same pace.

“There — there’s a small cave just below and to the left of the spot,” the druid called. “We can use — use it for rest.”

“Good,” grunted the green-skinned warrior.

Neither looked down, aware how that could throw them off balance. The tiny cave, likely just large enough to hold both of them, beckoned.

Without warning, a familiar voice filled his mind. Beware the trolls!

It took the night elf a moment to register the mental warning from Krasus. That the elder spellcaster had kept a link with him did not surprise Malfurion, but the mage’s warning made absolutely no sense. Trolls? What did he mean?

A slight powdering of dust sprinkled his face. His eyes stinging, Malfurion blinked it away.

Through watering eyes, he saw a long, cadaverous head with ears akin to those of a night elf and a shock of hair dangling over the forehead. Two yellowed tusks jutted up from his jowls. A black, glowing gem had been embedded in the middle of the forehead, no doubt Deathwing’s method of keeping such guards under his sway. The creature was much taller than a goblin, even a bit taller than Malfurion. His ruddy, dark gray skin blended in well with the rock face.

“Hello, supper…” sneered the troll. He reached down with the clear intention of pushing Malfurion off the wall.

The druid pulled back as best he could, the troll’s sharp nails coming within a hair’s breadth of his face. Malfurion tried to steer around the cave, but the troll grabbed hold of the rock face and, much like a spider, came crawling down after his prey.

He heard an angry growl from Brox and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that another troll was coming up from underneath the orc’s position. Worse, a third and fourth had emerged from other holes, one heading for each of the intruders.

“You’ll make a pretty splat, supper…” the first troll taunted. “Eat your brains raw and cook your liver for something special!”

He snatched at Malfurion again, this time managing to get a hold of the druid’s wrist. With amazing strength, the troll attempted to tear him free.

None of the spells the night elf had been taught seemed of any use to Malfurion. He fought hard to maintain his remaining grip, digging his fingers in so hard he was certain he would scrape off all the flesh.

Then, a shriek from below distracted the troll. Brox had put his dagger to good use, burying it in his own attacker’s shoulder. The troll toppled off the wall, falling to his death. Unfortunately, he took the orc’s blade with him.

With a snarl, the one who had seized the druid’s wrist tugged even harder. As Malfurion battled to hold on, he noticed the second of his foes coming up underneath, no doubt intending to knock the night elf’s foot loose. There would be little chance for Malfurion to maintain his hold if that happened.

The druid noticed a small beetle moving along the wall just above where the troll clung. Malfurion quickly concentrated, praying that his grip would last long enough.

As he hoped, the beetle turned and headed toward the night elf’s fiendish adversary. More important, others began coming out of the rock, all of them congregating underneath the troll.

At first, Malfurion’s foe did not notice anything amiss, but then the cannibalistic creature began to squirm uncomfortably. He tried to ignore what was happening, but finally it proved too much of an annoyance. With a frustrated hiss, the troll released his grip on Malfurion and began swatting at the insects now crawling on his chest.

Malfurion swung his fist. He only grazed the troll on the arm, but it was enough. Already forced to an awkward position by the beetles, the last of the troll’s grip readily gave way.

With a cry, the creature slipped. Luck was with the druid, for the troll collided with his companion below. Unable to withstand the weight crashing down on him, the second troll also lost his hold.

Malfurion looked away as they struck the floor, his gaze turning to the orc.

“Go!” roared Brox, maneuvering against the last of the trolls. “The disk! Get it!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Malfurion reluctantly obeyed. He had seen Brox fight demons under worse circumstances. The orc could handle the remaining troll.

Be wary… came Krasus’s voice. I have removed some of the protective spells, but there are others with which you must deal!

The druid already sensed them. Some were fairly obvious, others well-hidden. He studied the nature of each’s creation and, through that, either removed or nullified them. It surprised him that this part of his quest should be so swiftly accomplished. Malfurion had expected more from Deathwing.

There was another scream, a troll scream. The night elf did not even bother to look, for he already heard Brox grunting as the orc ascended.

The false front awaited Malfurion. He probed it with his mind — finding new spells, but nothing he could not counter.

Glancing down, he saw that Brox had reached the cave that they had originally sought. The orc peered inside.

“Wind… maybe way out, druid.”

Anything that would shorten their time here was welcome. Nodding, Malfurion returned his attention to the false front. They had been fortunate so far that the distraction caused by Deathwing’s mad work had buried the sounds of the trolls’ deaths, but fortune would not smile on the two forever…

He delved past the last of the protective spells, then tugged at the false rock. It was heavy, as he had expected, but he managed to pull out the side nearest to him enough so as to be able to slip inside.

“I’ll be quick!” he called.

Brox nodded.

Malfurion had expected darkness within, but what greeted him instead was a brilliant light that at first burned his sensitive eyes, then, somehow, soothed them.

And when his eyes adjusted, the night elf saw that but a few scant yards from him lay the Demon Soul. It rested upon a regal, red cloth the size of a ship sail, nestled in it like a newborn infant. The disk was so small that even Malfurion could wield it in one hand. It looked rather plain despite the magnificent glow radiating from it. Yet, knowing what power dwelled within, the night elf treated the dragon’s creation with the utmost respect and caution.

The druid studied the forces in play around the Demon Soul and saw none that would endanger him. Clearly, Deathwing believed his prize so safe here that he had not bothered with any further spells inside.

Malfurion leaned over the disk. So much power in something so little. It had seemed larger in the dragon’s paw, yet, he knew it had not changed size.

“Druid!” he suddenly heard Brox cry. “Something comes! The stone one, I think!”

With visions of the monstrous golem rushing through his head, Malfurion wasted no time, scooping up the disk in one easy motion.

Only then did he realized his terrible error.

What sounded like the screams of hundreds of dying dragons filled the chamber. Malfurion fell to his knees as the cries momentarily overwhelmed him. He felt as if the essence of every dragon who had contributed to the Demon Soul’s creation now screamed for release — but knew that what he actually heard was a last, cunning alarm secreted around the disk in so subtle a fashion as to be invisible to his most acute senses.

And as the first cries died away, a worse sound echoed throughout the caverns.

The furious, frenzied roar of Deathwing.