Richard Knaak - The Sundering

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!”