Richard Knaak - The Well of Eternity

“I follow your wisdom, shan’do,” returned the young night elf somberly.

Rhonin had heard the word before, especially when Malfurion had referred to his teacher, the demigod, Cenarius. He wondered where the forest lord was now. Such an elemental being was needed at a time like this.

Then the first horrific figures marched into sight and Rhonin’s thoughts turned only to survival.

Survival…and Vereesa.

The Burning Legion had laid waste to everything up to this point and yet they hungered for more destruction, more mayhem. The felbeasts bayed and the demon troops behind them roared in pleasure and anticipation upon seeing the row upon row of figures before them. Here were more lambs to the slaughter, more blood to be spilled.

With a single horrific battle cry, they charged.

Lord Ravencrest nodded.

“Archers stand ready!” shouted an officer.

More than a thousand curved bows aimed skyward.

The noble held his hand high, watching. The demon horde drew nearer…nearer…

He dropped his hand.

Like a flight of screaming banshees, the rain of arrows flew toward the enemy. Even knowing that death fell toward them, the Burning Legion did not slow. All they saw were those who must die.

The shafts descended.

Demons they might be, but they were demons with flesh. The first rank fell almost to the warrior, some with so many arrows in them that they could not lie flat on the ground. Felbeasts collapsed everywhere. One or two Doomguard dropped from the sky.

But the Burning Legion trampled over their own as if not even seeing them. Felbeasts ignored their dead brethren, howling and slavering as they neared the night elves’ lines.

“Damn!” muttered Ravencrest. “One more volley! Quickly!”

With smooth precision, the archers readied. The bearded noble lost no time in signaling them to fire.

Again death rained down upon the horde, but this time with far less effect. Now the Legion raised shields, formed better ranks.

“These are not mere beasts,” uttered an officer near Rhonin. “They learn too fast!”

Lord Ravencrest ignored him. “All archers to the rear! Position and be ready to fire on the inner ranks! Lancers! Prepare to charge!”

“My lord!” Rhonin called. “May I?”

“At this point, wizard, anything you wish to do is granted! Just do it!”

Rhonin stared at the area before the front ranks of the oncoming demons. He concentrated, drawing in the power. It took more effort than usual, but not enough to keep him from success.

His eyes narrowed.

The ground erupted before the Burning Legion, an explosion of dirt and rock that assaulted the monstrous warriors like a line of heavy catapults. Many Fel Guard flew in the air while others were buried under tons of earth. A huge boulder landed atop one felbeast, cracking its spine in two like a twig. The rushing mass halted, many colliding.

The archers took advantage, sending another volley into the packed horde. Scores more fell, adding to the chaos.

Cheers rose among the soldiers. The Moon Guard, on the other hand, looked somewhat jealously at Rhonin. Latosius snarled at his fellow sorcerers, urging them to action.

The efforts of the night elven spellcasters proved to be far less spectacular than Rhonin’s. Rings of energy that fell upon warriors of the Burning Legion often faded without any effect. A handful of demons dropped, but even some of those recovered.

“They’re useless!” Illidan snapped.

“They’re trying,” the wizard corrected.

Instead of arguing, the young night elf suddenly pointed at the horde, muttering.

Serpentine tentacles of black energy snaked around the throats of several dozen of those in the Legion’s forefront. The demons dropped their weapons and shields and tried to tear the tentacles free, but before they could do that, the tentacles burned through their necks, going through flesh and bone with little trouble…and eventually decapitating every one of Illidan’s targets.

It was all Rhonin could do to hide his distaste. Something about the night elf’s choice of attack did not sit well with him, but when Illidan looked for approval, the wizard still managed to nod. He could not discourage the only other person who had any ability. If they survived, Rhonin would teach Illidan other, better ways to deal with a foe.

And if they did not survive…

Once again, the Burning Legion surged on. Under their feet they crushed the corpses of their comrades. They roared as they approached, their maces and other horrific weapons held high and ready.

“We have to close with them now,” Ravencrest decided.

“You two stay in the back and continue doing whatever you can! You’re our best weapons for now…possibly forever!”

Illidan bowed his head to the noble. “Thank you, my lord.”

“ ’Tis the truth, young one…the terrible truth.”

With that, the night elven commander urged his mount ahead of them, joining his warriors. Lord Ravencrest drew his weapon, raising it high.

The lancers tensed. Behind them, the foot soldiers stood poised to follow. At the rear, the archers prepared for another shot.

Ravencrest slashed downward with his sword.

Horns blared. The archers fired.

The night elven force charged to meet the enemy, their night sabers snarling challenge to the demons.

Just as the lancers neared, the arrows struck. Distracted by the charge, those demons in front were whittled down by the bolts. Disarray momentarily took hold of the foremost line, exactly as Lord Ravencrest had intended.

The swiftness of the night sabers enabled the lances to drive in deep. Despite their immense size, several Fel Guard were thrust into the air as the night elves’ spears penetrated not only the armor but everything within.

The sheer force of the charge actually pushed back the Burning Legion for a moment. Night sabers did more damage, biting and tearing at those packed tight before them. Foot soldiers joined in from behind, filling in gaps and thrusting at anything that was not one of them.

Their lances all but useless now, the riders drew their own weapons and did battle. Far back, the archers continued to unleash volleys at the ranks beyond the fighting.

Another row of riders, Lord Ravencrest among them, still waited. The noble’s gaze flicked back and forth, studying each individual struggle, seeking the weak areas.

Rhonin and Illidan were not idle, either. The wizard cast a spell that solidified air above one section of the horde, literally dropping the sky on them. Illidan, in the meantime, repeated his serpentine spell, throttling and beheading several demons at a time.

The Moon Guard did what they could, their efforts slight but still of some aid. They could not, despite their best efforts, overcome the lack of direct contact with the Well of Eternity and it showed in their increasingly frustrated expressions.

Then, one of the night elven sorcerers screamed and pitched backward, his skin sloughing off like water. By the time he hit the ground, he was little more than a skeleton in a pool of what had once been his flesh. The other Moon Guard stared at the corpse in consternation, only Latosius’s berating voice driving them back to their task.

Rhonin quickly surveyed the Legion, seeking the spell’s source. It did not take him long to spot the culprit, a sinister figure further back in the lines. The spellcaster resembled one of the Fel Guard, but with a long, reptilian tail and far more ornate armor. It also wore a black and bloodred robe over the armor and the eyes that watched over the battlefield revealed an intelligence far superior to those on the front line.

He had never faced one himself, but the wizard recognized from descriptions an Eredar warlock. Not only were they the sorcerers of the Burning Legion, but they also acted as its officers and strategists.