Richard Knaak - The Demon Soul

“The captain and I will continue on alone for a few minutes.”

Neither the night elves nor the demons looked pleased with this…save Varo’then, of course. He looked back at his men and growled, “By the order of the queen!”

Unable to argue with such a fact, the retinue held its place while the pair slowly rode on.

Azshara did not speak until they were far out of earshot from the rest. Smiling at Varo’then, she said, “Does it all go well?”

“All what?”

The queen glanced to the horizon. “The cleansing of my realm. I thought it would be done by now.”

“Archimonde will see to it that it comes to pass, my queen.”

“But I would like it done before Sargeras comes! Wouldn’t that make for a tremendous gift…for my intended?”

It was all Varo’then could do to hold back. Swallowing his jealousy, he managed to say, “A tremendous gift, yes. It’ll all come to pass.”

“Then what delays it?”

“There are many things. Logistics, chance—”

She leaned toward him, granting the veteran fighter with a striking view of her form. “My dear, dear Varo’then! Do I, in any manner of the imagination, look like a hardy, muscular soldier such as yourself?”

His cheeks darkened. “Nay! Nay, Vision of Perfection!”

“Then please…do not use such military terms. I would prefer you simply show me.” Azshara raised her hand palm up; in it appeared a small crystal sphere the size of a pea. However, as Varo’then watched, it grew to the dimensions of a large piece of fruit. Even despite the dimness, it glowed as he recalled the full moon once had.

“Will you do me the pleasure, dear captain?”

Taking the globe, the scarred soldier concentrated. While hardly at the level of a Highborne sorcerer, he had his skills with the arts. The view globe immediately reacted to him, turning his thoughts into visions.

“You ask me what delays matters, my queen? I would say that these are some of the reasons.”

From his memory, he first dredged up the image of a redhaired creature like nothing Azshara had ever seen. She peered closely, eyes glittering.

“Handsome in his…foreign ways. Definitely male.”

“A wizard. Powerful.” The face twisted like putty, altering in shading and shape. An older, wise figure appeared.

“Gracious! Is this a corpse you show me?”

“Nay. Despite his coloring—or lack of it—this creature lives. He was little danger to us when we encountered him, but I suspected then that he suffered some malady…and since that time, my spies have reported that he was seen in the company of a dragon—”

Now this impressed the queen. “A dragon?”

“Aye, and between him and the beast, they caused no end of trouble for Archimonde’s warriors. Both’ve vanished, though I suspect this one’ll be back.”

“Perhaps not so ghastly after all,” Azshara commented, eyeing the pale figure so akin to a night elf. “And it’s only these who keep my world from perfection?”

Captain Varo’then scowled. “There are some of our own, of course, my lady. Misbegotten or misguided. I’ve learned of two Your Glory might find of interest. You will forgive me if the images are indistinct, but they are from the minds of others passed on to me.”

Azshara gazed at the new figures. One had his hair tied back and wore black, the other let it hang loose and seemed to be in drab-colored garments. Both faces were so akin to each other that she at first thought them one and the same.

“Twins, my queen,” he clarified. “Brothers.”

“Twins…how delectable.” She ran her fingers over the shifting images. “But so young…surely not leaders.”

“Powerful of magic, it seems, but, nay, neither they nor the others lead the resistance. That falls, of course, to the esteemed Lord Ravencrest.”

“Dear Kur’talos…I always thought him my most cherished servant, and this is how he rewards me.”

Captain Varo’then dismissed the queen’s globe. Eyes overshadowed by his dark brow, he said to her, “Black Rook Hold has ever envied the palace, Light of Lights.”

She pouted briefly. “I’ve decided that Lord Ravencrest has displeased me, Varo’then,” Azshara finally declared. “Can you remedy that?”

He showed no sign of surprise. “The cost will be great…but it can be done, if that is your wish.”

“My fondest one, darling captain.”

Azshara stroked his cheek ever so slightly, then abruptly turned her mount around and headed back to the waiting guards. Her long, translucent gown fluttered behind her.

Pulling himself together, the officer contemplated the desires of his mistress. Kur’talos Ravencrest had displeased her, and there was no greater crime in all Kalimdor.

“It will be done, my queen,” he muttered. “It will be done.”

They left Suramar far behind and pressed the demons in the direction of Zin-Azshari. Rhonin’s master spell had begun the push, but now Illidan’s Moon Guard and the soldiers on the line took over in earnest, crushing the demons wherever they attempted to make a stand.

Rhonin did not let up despite his success. Although he gave himself moments to recuperate, he, too, took advantage of the situation to wreak new havoc on the Burning Legion. Every demon who fell the human imagined as the one who might harm his family if he failed. Rhonin no longer cared what effect his presence in the war had; if the Burning Legion was utterly destroyed here, then neither they nor the Undead Scourge would ever scar the world in the future.

Brox, too, had long gone past any hesitation. He was an orc warrior and orc warriors fought. Brox let others worry about repercussions. He only knew that he and his ax thirsted for the blood of demons.

The night elven host drove a wedge deeper into the center of the demon lines. On the flanks, the Moon Guard chopped away at the enemy. The Eredar and Dreadlords still struck back on occasion, but with nothing that Illidan’s forces could not handle.

“We’re pushing them up into the hills of Urae!” Jarod called to Rhonin. “Beyond that lies only Zin-Azshari herself!”

“A good thing that we’ve whittled them down so much!” the wizard returned grimly. “If they had enough reinforcements or organization, this would be a foul place to have to fight them! They’d have the upper ground!”

“Once we reach the other side, though, the hills will be ours to take advantage of!”

“Then the sooner we reach them, the better…”

The demons continued to back into the hills in chaotic masses with little direction. Of Archimonde, Rhonin saw no sign. If the demon lord had been in control, then surely the Burning Legion would have fought better than this. Unless…

Could it be? he wondered, startled by the mere possibility.

“Jarod! Brox! I need to find Ravencrest!”

“Go!” growled the orc as his ax cut through the armor of a Fel Guard, then the demon himself.

Feeling guilty about leaving his comrades at such a time, Rhonin nonetheless felt certain that he had to find the commander and quickly. A horrible notion had occurred to him, but only the noble could verify or repudiate it.

But locating Lord Ravencrest was no simple task. His night saber pushing slowly through the advancing soldiers, the wizard surveyed the area left and right with no success. His quarry could be in a thousand places, possibly even under Rhonin’s very nose.

Anxiety growing, he finally managed to locate someone who might know Ravencrest’s whereabouts. Lord Desdel Stareye’s armor looked absolutely spotless and his own cat was still well-groomed. Rhonin wondered if he had even gotten close to the battle, much less participated in it. Still, Stareye had the ear of Lord Ravencrest, and that was all that mattered for the moment.