Richard A. Knaak: Stormrage

You are too weak…our foothold too strong…you have failed, my dear Malfurion…

Malfurion refused to listen to such words, even though they had some merit. He knew that even with Tyrande standing with him, he was fast approaching his limits.

See how they all fall now… offered the Nightmare Lord.

Before the archdruid’s eyes, visions of all those who depended upon him came anew. Thura transfixed. King Varian leading a shrinking army. The other druids — Hamuul yet urging them on — trying to do what they could against an unstoppable foe transforming both realms…

He had been shown this before, had felt it before, but the crushing weight of having come so close just to fail again was too much. Perhaps if he had been a hundred Malfurions, a thousand, he might have succeeded…but he was only one.

Despair…and know that as you do…I have only shown you what is happening…this time, you know your failings yourself…

Xavius laughed loud.

The storm all but faded. What his adversary said was so true.

Xavius was not doing anything; he merely showed Malfurion what Malfurion already understood…that the archdruid had let everyone down.

Then, just as the darkness seemed about to close about his heart, a cool, soothing light touched him from within. He knew its source instantly.

“Malfurion!” Tyrande called in his ear. Her voice was haggard, yet still somehow unyielding to her own pain. “Please! Do not…give in! He plays on your mind…”

The archdruid stirred…and found both of them caught up in the wicked branches. Only the fact that Tyrande had evidently been holding on to him at the time of their being seized had kept them together.

All is the Nightmare! Xavius the tree intoned. You…she…all

…How I have waited for this…trapped so long in the darkness beneath the waves, waiting and growing in strength with its guidance…growing until the time was right and then rising from the depths to set down roots here upon the eastern cliffs overlooking my lost Zin-Azshari! Here, where once my queen ruled all, where once I was power, how more appropriate that here you fall and the Nightmare covers all…how fitting!

All… that one word most of all struck a chord with Malfurion.

I have made a terrible mistake… he knew what he needed to do to finally finish this. Victory or defeat was not dependent on him and him alone nor even him and Tyrande, though together they had stemmed the tide.

It depended upon everyone working in concert as never before.

Strengthened by this last revelation, lightning guided by Malfurion struck the foremost branch involved in holding them. The two night elves were flung into the air. Malfurion transformed into storm crow form and caught Tyrande in his talons. He brought her to the ground just beyond the grasping branches, then became himself again.

“I made a mistake!” he informed her. “I know the truth now!”

She nodded. Tyrande knew what he expected of her. Without waiting, the high priestess began a prayer to Elune.

Malfurion reached out to the other druids…every druid left in either realm save Broll. Let me show you what we — together — may accomplish…

To do what he needed, Malfurion had to ask the other druids to leave themselves defenseless. He was surprised, grateful, and fearful when all accepted without hesitation.

He showed them what they already knew, but did not fully understand even now. They were druids. They were Azeroth’s caretakers and guardians. They also served as the same for the Emerald Dream. Yet, though they understood that as such their bonds with the essence of nature in both was powerful, they did not realize that they had, as a group, believed that they were more limited than they actually were.

But the two realms themselves were intertwined in a manner that even the druids had never fully comprehended and thus, the bond was more complex, and potentially far more powerful. The others marveled at what their shan’do revealed, but Malfurion could not let them dwell upon this amazing discovery. Guiding them on, he had them turn their spellwork to his intention.

The storm. His storm. The other druids were essential to its crafting, to its growth, but it was through Malfurion — with Tyrande’s prayers to the Mother Moon helping to keep his mind clear of the Nightmare’s presence — that it truly swelled, truly took on the epic proportions he needed.

A deep rumble shook both Azeroth and the Emerald Dream.

King Varian kept order among his fighters, aware that they could not make the assumption that this brought new hope. As the lord of Stormwind led the fighting, at times the image of the wolf would again superimpose itself upon his face, a sight that gave further encouragement to those who knew of the spirit’s favor.

The Life-Binder, standing at the one gate that prevented the Nightmare’s own efforts, smiled grimly in recognition of what Malfurion was accomplishing. She threw her last efforts into making certain she did not fail in her part.

Malfurion sensed it all come together. The druids became as one under his leadership. He felt an understanding of his world and the Emerald Dream that he could never have imagined. Yet it was his bond with Tyrande that enabled him to most make use of that understanding.

The storm unleashed.

It struck with a fury with which no tempest ever before had done.

Azeroth trembled. The Emerald Dream shimmered. They were two that were one, but not as Xavius desired. He had wanted one realm perverted into an evil mirroring his own and that of the force behind him.

But Malfurion instead gave them the purity and strength of nature.

The wind roared. It set the mists swirling. Its force made the nightmarish figures and shadow satyrs ripple, then dissipate like so much dust. Stormwind City, Orgrimmar…every embattled place upon Azeroth was suddenly cleared.

The rain poured, rivers spilling over the landscape wherever the evil had spread. The pristine waters not only washed away more of the Nightmare’s shadows and other horrific servants, but brought new life, new growth, where the Nightmare had stunted or manipulated it.

The carrion bugs melted in the rain, their foulness unable to withstand its force. Those too corrupted by the Nightmare to be saved fled from the cleansing, retreating with the melting mists that represented the darkness’s dwindling hold.

But the Nightmare still held sway over its many victims and the power that their fears brought was yet tremendous. The sleepwalkers rose in vast numbers, driven by their terrifying dreams to strike out at those living.

Malfurion had known, though, that this would come. He called forth the thunder, stirring it to a rumble.

There had been on Azeroth no sound like it. A hundred volcanoes could not match it. All the combined storms throughout history could not come even close to its fantastic power.

And no creature, no matter how deeply asleep, deeply hidden in the lowest recesses of any cave or high up in some mountain or behind thick stone walls…could avoid hearing it.

The thunder roiled.

The sleepers awoke.

The hold of the Nightmare shattered.

Xavius’s outrage echoed in Malfurion’s mind a moment after, a pitiful sound in comparison to the majesty of the storm. However, the archdruid did not assume his victory assured or imminent.

Arms outstretched, hands clenched, Malfurion threw his will into what he and the druids had created, then threw it at the Nightmare Lord.

The storm raged.

Wherever the taint resisted, lightning flashed, burning away the darkness. The bolts were not white or yellow, as normal, but the brilliant green of nature in its most lush growth. The ground where they struck was not scorched, but bloomed.