Richard Knaak - The Sundering

But another massive dragon suddenly flew past them, a familiar green leviathan with a most unique night elf astride.

“Malfurion…” Krasus murmured, eyeing the druid, who now sported a small pair of antlers akin to those of his teacher. “Yes, it has to be he who attempts it…”

Yet, that did not preclude any effort by the others. Alexstrasza did not slow despite her wounds and from Krasus’s right flew Rhonin and Brox on the red male. The bronze female also followed, but without a rider, she could not do anything but watch over the others.

Malfurion’s dragon moved in on the plummeting disk, the Demon Soul leaving a bright, golden trail as it dropped. Krasus watched as the druid opened his palm… then unerringly caught the foul piece. The night elf clutched it to his chest.

And from within the portal came a monstrous roar that shook the dragon mage’s very soul. He peered down, staring in dismay at a horrific green storm brewing in the center.

Sargeras was trying to cross through the nearly-completed gateway.

As a warrior, Brox knew well his limits. This was now a time of wizards and sorcerers. There were no foes with blades and axes up here, not anymore.

Malfurion gazed at the dread device, his eyes wide and unblinking. Brox understood the disk’s seductive power and quickly shouted past Rhonin, “Druid! You must not trust it so! It is evil!”

The night elf glanced up, then gave his comrade a determined nod. Brox exhaled in relief — an exhalation that became a choking sound as he, like the rest, heard the fiendish cry erupting from the Well. It was the cry of an angered god.

The cry of Sargeras, lord of the Burning Legion.

“The demon lord seeks to enter Kalimdor!” the crimson male roared. “The portal is all but complete! He may be able to succeed… and, if he does, we are all lost!”

Brox stared at the green tempest below. It was contracting, coalescing into a smaller, almost perfectly octagonal gap. “What happens? The gateway shrinks, not grows!”

“Sargeras must further seek to strengthen his chances by localizing the spell! Once through, he will have no trouble stretching it wide again. If anything, he has his chance of success more likely!”

Horrified, the orc pulled his gaze from the monstrous storm… and saw that their situation was even more dire. From Zin-Azshari there now rose hundreds, perhaps, thousands, of winged forms. “Look! There!”

The demon Mannoroth had allowed Captain Varo’then and his soldiers to attack the party when all it had seemed was needed had been a delaying tactic. Now, though, with what the black dragon had done, the plan had clearly changed. Mannoroth surely realized that there was a true danger to the Legion. He had therefore summoned every Doomguard and other winged demon available to deal with the world’s defenders.

Brox itched to sink his ax into the oncoming swarm, but he knew his efforts would be laughable compared to those of Rhonin and Krasus. True, he could ride along as the red male and the wizard fought them, but what good would that do?

Alexstrasza and Krasus, being further back, had already turned to confront the horde of aerial demons. The red male began arcing away from the center of the Well. That left the wielding of the Demon Soul and the sealing of the portal to Malfurion… providing that he was somehow given the time needed. Even Brox could sense the sinister energies building up within the condensed portal. Sargeras had nearly succeeded…

The orc could think of only one thing to do. A part of him spoke called it madness, yet, another part insisted it had to be done.

“Farewell, wizard!” he roared. “It is my honor to have fought beside you and the rest!”

Rhonin glanced back at him. “What’re you planning to — ”

Brox leapt.

The red dragon attempted to snatch Brox, but the giant’s astonishment made him react far too slowly. The orc fell past his claws, dropping relentlessly toward the center of the Well of Eternity… and the blazing storm now reaching its peak.

Howling with anticipation, Brox felt the wind tear at his face as he descended. His grip on his ax so tight that his knuckles had turned white. He grinned just as he had that day when he and his comrades had stood ready to protect the pass at cost of their lives.

As Brox neared the portal, his perspective shifted. He saw movement within. Ranks and ranks of demons, all preparing to follow their lord into the mortal plane. Demons stretching into Forever. Of Sargeras himself, Brox saw no sign, but he knew that the demons’ fearsome master had to be very, very near.

And then… the orc passed through the gateway.

Malfurion did not see Brox leap, the night elf already consumed by what lay before him. Now that he had the disk, it occurred to the druid just how daunting his task was. Malfurion had hoped one of the others, especially Krasus, would be the one to seize the Demon Soul, but their underestimation of the spell and the black dragon’s shocking intrusion into events had turned everything upside down. Now, it was all up to him and he had no idea exactly what to do.

At that moment, he sensed Tyrande in his thoughts again. Instinctively reaching out, Malfurion sensed with horror that she was in danger.

Tyrande! What — ?

Malfurion! There are demons everywhere! Illidan and I believe that Mannoroth is trying to get you through us!

He quickly sought the link that he still shared with his twin. His initial contact with Illidan shocked Malfurion, so full of bloodlust was it. Through his brother, the druid felt Illidan strike out at the Burning Legion, the bodies of fiery warriors piled high before the black-clad spellcaster.

Illidan suddenly became aware of his presence. Brother?

Illidan! Can you flee?

We are surrounded and Mannoroth no doubt eagerly awaits my use of a spell to spirit us to safety! He would quickly usurp it, bringing us to his loving arms…

Malfurion shuddered. I’m coming! I’ll help you!

But even as he said it, the druid knew that he could not leave the Well. The portal had to be destroyed, even if it meant sacrificing his twin and Tyrande.

How Malfurion prayed for a return to the old days, before the Legion. The days when he and his brother would have fought side by side. When they had been youths, he and Illidan had been able to overcome all obstacles because they had been as one.

Would that it could be so one more time, the druid desperately thought. Would that I could stand next to Illidan and he next to me and together we dealt with this evil…

Only too late, did Malfurion notice the Demon Soul flare.

A peculiar feeling of displacement hit him. His eyes momentarily lost focus. Groaning, Malfurion shook his head… and discovered that he now stood next to Illidan in the ruins of Zin-Azshari.

“Malfurion?” gasped Tyrande. She reached out to touch him, but her hand went through the druid.

Yet, when Malfurion put out a hand toward his twin, he felt solid flesh. Illidan flinched, startled.

Malfurion blinked… and once again he rode above the Well of Eternity.

Only, this time… Illidan sat beside him.

The sorcerer gazed at Malfurion from behind his scarf with both suspicion and barely-concealed awe. “What’ve you done, brother?”

The druid eyed the Demon Soul and recalled his desire. The foul disk had granted it.

He and Illidan were in both places simultaneously.

So be it. Whatever its evil, the Demon Soul had given him the chance he needed. “Stand with me, Illidan!” Malfurion challenged. “Stand with me here — ” The scene shifted back to Zin-Azshari. “ — and here!”

To his credit — and with an old, familiar grin — Malfurion’s twin immediately nodded.