Richard Knaak - The Well of Eternity

The Guard officer frowned. Tyrande smiled at him.

“Very well…but I’ll have to escort you there myself.”

“Of course.”

She turned to help Krasus rise, Brox coming from the prisoner’s other side. As Tyrande held him close, she noticed Krasus hide a satisfied smile.

“Something pleases you?”

“For the first time since my inopportune arrival, yes. There is hope, after all.”

He did not clarify and she did not ask him to do so. With their aid, he left the Guard headquarters. Tyrande realized that Krasus played no game in one regard; he was seriously weak. Even still, she sensed the authority within him.

With Jarod Shadowsong behind them, they returned to the temple. Once again, it took only the appearance of the orc to create a path for them.

Tyrande feared that the guards and senior priestesses would be another problem, but, like her, they seemed to innately sense Krasus’s prominence. The elder priestesses actually bowed toward him, although she suspected that they did not quite understand why.

“Elune has chosen well,” Krasus remarked as they neared the living quarters. “But then, I knew that when I saw you.”

His comment made her face darken, but not because of any attraction. Rather, Tyrande felt as if she had been given a compliment by one at least as significant as the high priestess herself.

She intended to bring him to a separate chamber, but without thinking instead walked into the one where she had been keeping Malfurion. At the last moment, Tyrande tried to halt.

“Is there trouble?” asked Krasus.

“No…only that this room is being used for a stricken friend of mine—”

But before she could get any farther, the cowled figure struggled away from her, pushing toward Malfurion’s prone form.

“Chance, fate, or Nozdormu, indeed!” he spat. “What ails him? Quickly!”

“I—” How to explain?

“He walked the Emerald Dream,” Brox responded. “He’s not come back, elder.”

“Not come back…where did he seek to go?”

The orc told him. Tyrande had thought Krasus’s face pale enough, but now it literally whitened. “Of all the places…but it makes bitter sense. If I had only known before I left there!”

“You were in Zin-Azshari?” Tyrande gasped.

“I was in what remained of the city, but I came here in search of your very friend.” He studied the still body. “And if, as you say, he has been like this for the past few nights, I may be much, much too late…for all of us.”

Anight elf cried out, his breast plate and chest cut open by a demon blade. Another near him had no chance to utter a sound, a Fel Guard mace crushing in his skull.

Everywhere, the defenders were dying and nothing Rhonin had done so far had been sufficient to alter that horrific fact. Despite Lord Ravencrest’s determined figure at the forefront, the night elves were slowly being slaughtered. The Burning Legion gave them no respite, constantly pummeling the lines.

But even knowing he and the rest would die, the wizard fought on.

He had no other recourse.

The news of the defending army’s arrival had taken Lord Xavius by some surprise, but it had not made him any less confident of the final outcome. He saw how many of the great one’s celestial host flooded through the portal and felt certain that no army arrayed against them could possibly stand long. Soon, the unfit would be cleansed from his world.

Mannoroth led the Legion against the fools and Hakkar was on the hunt, leaving all in the counselor’s skilled hands. He peered briefly in the direction of a small alcove near the entrance, wherein he had stored his most recent prize. After news arrived that the defending forces had been decimated, Xavius would take the time to see to his “guest.” At the moment, he had far more important things to do.

He returned his attention to the portal, where yet another group of Fel Guard had materialized. They received their instructions from the towering Doomguard left by Mannoroth, then marched to join their bloodthirsty brethren. The scene had repeated itself some dozen times in just the past few minutes, the only difference being that each successive batch of arrivals was larger in number than the last. Now they almost took up the entire chamber.

As the latest troop of Fel Guard passed, Lord Xavius heard Sargeras’s glorious voice in his head. The pace increases…I am pleased .

The night elf knelt. “I am honored.”

There is resistance already .

“Merely some of the unfit delaying the inevitable.”

The portal must be protected…it must not only remain open, but be strengthened more. Soon…very soon…I will come through …

The counselor’s heart leapt. The momentous event neared!

Rising, he said, “I shall see that everything is done to prepare the way for you! I swear it!”

He felt a wave of satisfaction…then Sargeras departed his thoughts.

Lord Xavius immediately turned to the array that kept the shield spell functioning. He had inspected it after the intruder’s attempt to destroy it and found it intact, but one could never take chances.

Yes, it was still in perfect order. Thinking of his “guest,” Xavius mulled over some of the things he would do when Sargeras finally stepped forth from the portal. Surely the queen would have to be there and, of course, an honor guard had to be arranged. Captain Varo’then would deal with the last matter. The counselor himself intended to be the first to greet the celestial one. As a proper gift, Xavius decided that he would hand over the crystal and its contents to Sargeras. After all, this was one of the three that Mannoroth had felt significant enough to send the Houndmaster after again. How foolish Hakkar would look when he came back to discover that the advisor had so easily captured one already.

Lord Xavius could hardly wait to present his prisoner to the great Sargeras. It would be especially interesting to see just what the god did with the young fool…

His nightmare continued.

Malfurion drifted within the crystal, staring out at what little he could see of the chamber. He had been placed in a small nook in the alcove, the crystal set on an angle. The alcove gave him a glimpse of the area near the doorway, which meant that the captive watched a constant stream of demonic warriors lumbering by, death clearly on their minds. That, in turn, twisted his heart further, for he knew that they went out to slay every night elf they could find…and all because Malfurion had failed to destroy the shield.

Although his surroundings did not give any indication of the passage of time, Malfurion felt certain that at least two nights had gone by since his capture. In his dream form, he did not sleep, and that made those two or more nights even longer.

How stupid he had been! Malfurion had heard the tales of Lord Xavius’s eyes, how people said they could even see the shadows of shadows, but he had taken those for fanciful stories. Little had he suspected that the same lenses that enabled the counselor to observe the natural forces of sorcery also let him take note of a spirit in his sanctum. How Lord Xavius had laughed!

Malfurion had tested his crystalline cage several times early on and found it too strong. Perhaps with more teaching the young night elf might have discovered some flaw, but that hardly mattered now. He had failed . He had failed himself, his friends, his race…his world.

Now, nothing but Lord Ravencrest’s defenders likely stood in the way of the demons.

He had to do something .

Steeling himself, Malfurion once again tried to use what Cenarius had taught him. The crystal was a part of nature. It was susceptible to his spells. He ran his hands over the edges, seeking a weakness in the matrix that held it together. It was not quite a druidic spell he utilized, but close.