Richard Knaak - The Well of Eternity

Fumbling fingers managed to seize the ax again. To his pleasure, he noted some of the hooded figures start. They had not expected such resistance.

But as he tried to raise his weapon, a second silvery veil settled over him. What strength Brox had summoned vanished again. When the ax fell this time, he knew he would be unable to retrieve it.

The orc took one wobbly step, then fell forward. Even then, Brox tried to crawl toward his foes, determined not to make their victory an easy one.

A third veil dropped over him…and Brox blacked out.

Three nights…three nights and still nothing to show for our efforts…

Xavius was not pleased.

Three of the Highborne sorcerers stepped back from the continual spellwork. They were immediately replaced by those who had managed to replenish their strength with some overdue rest. Xavius’s false black eyes turned to the three who had just finished. One of them noticed the dark orbs gazing their direction and cringed. The Highborne might be the most glorious of the queen’s servants, but Lord Xavius was the most glorious—and dangerous—of the Highborne.

“Tomorrow night…tomorrow night we shall increase the field of power tenfold,” he declared, the crimson streaks in his eyes flaring.

Unable to meet his gaze, one of the other Highborne nonetheless dared say, “W-with all due respect, my Lord Xavius, that risks much! Such an additional increase may destabilize all we have already accomplished.”

“And what is that, Peroth’arn?” Xavius loomed over the other robed figures, his shadow seeming to move of its own accord in the mad light of the spell. “What have we accomplished?”

“Why, we command more power than any night elf has ever commanded before!”

Xavius nodded, then frowned. “Yes, and with it, we can squash an insect with a mountain-sized hammer! You are a shortsighted fool, Peroth’arn! Consider yourself fortunate that your skill is demanded for this effort.”

Clamping his mouth shut, the other night elf bowed his head gratefully.

The queen’s counselor looked with disdain upon the rest of the Highborne. “What we seek to do, we need perfect manipulation of the Well to accomplish! We must have the ability to slay the insect without its even realizing the death until after the fact! We must have such precision, such a fine touch, that there will be no question as to the perfect execution of our final goal! We—”

“Preaching again, my darling Xavius?”

The melodic voice would have enchanted any of the other Highborne into killing themselves if it would please the speaker, but not so the onyx-eyed Xavius. With a careless gesture, he dismissed the weary spellcasters, then turned to the one person in the palace who did not rightly show him the respect he deserved.

She glittered as she entered, a vision of perfection that his magical orbs amplified. She was the glory of the night elves, their beloved mistress. When she breathed, she made the crowds breathless. When she touched the cheek of a favored warrior, he went out and willingly fought dragons and more, even if it meant his certain destruction.

The queen of the night elves was tall for a female, taller even than many males. Only Xavius truly towered above her. Yet, despite her height, she moved like the wind, silent grace with every step. No cat walked as silently as Azshara and none walked with as much confidence.

Her deep, violet skin was as smooth as the almost sheer silk garment she wore. Her hair, long, thick, lush, and moonlight silver, cascaded down around her shoulders and artfully curved backside. In contrast to her previous visit, when she had matched her garments to her eyes, she now wore a flowing gown the same wondrous color as her luxurious hair.

Even Xavius secretly desired her, but on his own terms. His ambitions drove him far more than her wiles ever could. Still, he found much use in her presence, just as he knew she found the same in his. They shared an ultimate objective, but with differing rewards for each waiting at the end.

When that goal was finally reached, Xavius would show Azshara who truly ruled.

“Light of the Moon,” he began, expression obedient. “I preach only of your purity, your flawlessness! These others I simply remind of their duty—nay, of their love —for you. They should not therefore wish to fail…”

“For they would be failing you, as well, my darling counselor.” Behind the stunning queen, two handmaidens carried the train of her long, translucent gown. They shifted the train to the side as Azshara seated herself on the special chair she had made the Highborne erect so that she could watch their efforts in comfort. “And I think they fear that more than they love me.”

“Hardly, my mistress!”

The queen positioned herself to gaze upon the struggling spellcasters, her gown shifting to best display her perfect form.

Xavius remained unmoved by her maneuver. He would have her and whatever else he desired after they had succeeded in their great mission.

A sudden flash of blazing light drew the eyes of both to the work of the sorcerers. Hovering in the center of the circle created by the Highborne, a furious ball of energy continually remade itself. Its myriad displays had a hypnotic effect, in great part because they often seemed to be opening up a doorway into elsewhere. Xavius especially spent long hours staring into the night elves’ creation, seeing with his artificial eyes what none of the others could.

Watching now, the counselor wrinkled his brow. He squinted, studying the endless depths within. For just the briefest of moments, he could have sworn that he had seen—

“I believe you are not listening to me, darling Xavius! Is that at all possible?”

He managed to recover. “As possible as living without breathing, Daughter of the Moon…but I admit I was distracted enough that I may not have understood clearly. You said again something about—”

A brief, throaty chuckle escaped Queen Azshara, but she did not contradict him. “What is there to understand? I simply restated that surely we must soon triumph! Soon we shall have the power and ability to cleanse our land of its imperfections, create of it the perfect paradise…”

“So it shall be, my queen. So it shall be. We are but a short time from the creation of a grand golden age. The realm— your realm—will be purified. The world will know everlasting glory!” Xavius allowed himself a slight smile. “And the blighted, impure races that in the past have prevented such a perfect age from issuing forth will cease to be.”

Azshara rewarded his good words with a pleased smile of her own, then said, “I am glad to hear you say that it will be soon. I have had more supplicants today, lord counselor. They came in fear of the violence in and around the great Well. They asked me for guidance as to its cause and danger. Naturally, I referred their requests to you.”

“As you rightly should have, mistress. I will assuage their fears long enough for our precious task to come to fruition. After that, it will be your pleasure to announce what has been done for the good of your people…”

“And they shall love me the more for it,” Azshara murmured, her eyes narrowed as if imagining the grateful crowds.

“If they could possibly love you any more than they do already, my glorious queen.”

Azshara accepted his compliment with a momentary lowering of her slitted eyes, then, with a smooth grace of which only she was capable, rose from the chair. Her attendants quickly manipulated the train of her gown so that it would not in the slightest hamper her movements. “I will make the wondrous announcement soon, Lord Xavius,” she declared, turning away from the counselor. “See to it that all is ready when I do.”