The Sundering (7 page)

Then, to the druid’s surprise, a shaggy figure charged past him, heading for the near-breach. Another and another followed, gargantuan tauren moving up to the weakened line and adding their astounding strength. With a gusto worthy of Brox, they attacked the demons, cutting down several of the tusked warriors in the first strike. Among them, Malfurion made out Huln at the head, his eagle spear impaling one Fel Guard with such force the tip broke through the back. Huln shook off the dead demon with ease, then parried a wild swing by another. The lead tauren grinned wide.

And with the tauren came an unlikely figure. Jarod Shadowsong, blade already blooded, shouted to the huge beastmen with him. To Malfurion’s surprise, the group shifted as if obeying some command. They spread out, enabling the night elves to rebuild their own lines and come to the aid of their rescuers.

Priestesses of Elune also materialized, the warrior maidens a striking group, especially in contrast to their peaceful ways before the coming of the Legion. Their appearance stung Malfurion, though, for it increased again his guilt that he had not managed to keep Tyrande out of the demons’ clutches.

Astride their animals, the priestesses used sword and bow against the enemy. However, among those most proficient was one not truly a priestess. Shorter than the rest, young Shandris Feathermoon lacked a summer or two before she should have been officially able to become a novice. But drastic times demanded drastic measures. Marinda, the sister acting in Tyrande’s absence, had granted Shandris a place in their depleted ranks. Now, clad in slightly-oversize armor taken from a fallen compatriot, the newest of the Mother Moon’s daughters fired off three bolts, all of which scored perfect strikes in the throats of demons.

The Legion’s progress halted. The defenders began to push back. Malfurion and Rhonin added their powers to the task and the night elves retook ground.

In the midst of the sisterhood, there was a sudden shriek. Two of the armored priestesses fell, their bodies contorted and crushed by their very armor. Even dead, their expressions revealed the agony that the compressing metal had put them through.

Malfurion’s eyes narrowed and he gasped. One of them was Marinda.

“Eredar!” snarled Rhonin. He raised a hand toward the northwest.

But before the wizard could strike back, a fount of flame erupted from that very direction. Malfurion sensed the distant warlock’s own agony as the flames engulfed him.

“My sincere regrets for so delayed a return,” muttered Krasus, the source of that retribution. The dragon mage stood a short distance behind the pair. “I was forced to make the return in stages,” he added with bitterness.

No one condemned him, not after all he had done. Still, it was clear that Krasus would not so easily forgive himself.

“We’ve pushed them back again,” declared Rhonin. There was no enthusiasm in his words. “Just like we did the time before and the time before…”

The battle retreated from them. Now that matters were once more in the hands of the defenders, the sisters of Elune turned to their true vocation—dealing with the wounded. They moved among the soldiers and a few even went to tend the tauren, albeit with some clear reservations.

Battle horns made the trio look to where Lord Stareye rode. The noble waved his sword around, then pointed at the Burning Legion. It was clear that he was taking full credit for the host’s latest advance.

Krasus shook his head. “Would that Brox had reached Ravencrest in time.”

“He did his best, I’m sure,” Malfurion responded.

“I have no quarrel with the orc concerning his effort, young one. It is fate with whom I ever battle. Come, let us take this reprieve to see if we can aid the sisterhood. There are plenty of wounded to go around.”

There were, indeed. Malfurion put to good use another aspect of his training. Cenarius had taught him much concerning those plants and other life that could ease pain and heal wounds. His talents were not so proficient as that of most of the priestesses, but he left his charges in much better condition than he found them.

Among the wounded, they located Jarod. The captain sat near his resting night saber as a sister looked to a long gash in the officer’s arm.

“I’ve tried to convince her it’s nothing,” he remarked sourly as they approached. “The armor protected me fairly well.”

“The Burning Legion’s weapons are often poisoned,” Krasus explained. “Even a slight wound might prove treacherous.” The pale mage dipped his head toward the officer. “Quick thinking out there. You saved the situation.”

“I only pleaded with the tauren, Huln, to give me a few of his people to save mine, then asked the dwarves to make sure I hadn’t weakened the tauren lines.”

“As I said, quick thinking. The night elves and the bull-men fought well together, when it came to it. Would that our erstwhile commander saw that. The moment I arrived, I perceived that there was no true cohesion among the allies.”

Rhonin smirked. “Could you expect any better from Lord Stareye?”

“Alas, no.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of a senior priestess. She was tall and moved like a night saber herself. Her face was not unattractive, but her expression was severe. The sister’s skin was a shade paler than most of her people. For some reason, despite that, she reminded Malfurion of someone.

“They said they saw you,” she commented blandly to Jarod.

He looked at her blankly, as if not certain she actually stood there. “Maiev…”

“It’s been long since we saw one another, little brother.”

Now the physical resemblance became more apparent. The captain disengaged himself from the other priestess’s efforts and stood to face his sibling. Even though he stood taller than her, somehow Jarod seemed to look up at Maiev.

“Since you entered the moon goddess’s service and chose the temple in Hajiri as the place for your studies.”

“It’s where Kalo’thera ascended to the stars,” Maiev countered, referring to a celebrated high priestess from centuries past. Many in the sisterhood considered Kalo’thera almost a demigoddess.

“It was far from home.” Jarod suddenly seemed to recall the others. He looked to them, saying, “This is my older sister, Maiev. Maiev, these are—”

The senior priestess all but ignored Malfurion and Rhonin, her gaze strictly on Krasus. Like the rest of the sisterhood, she evidently saw that he was special, even if she did not understand why. Maiev went down on one knee before Jarod could continue, declaring, “I am honored in your presence, elder one.”

Expressionless, Krasus answered, “There is no need to kneel before me. Rise, sister, and be welcome among us. You and yours were timely in your appearance today.”

Jarod’s sibling stood with pride. “The Mother Moon guided us well, even if it meant the sacrifice of Marinda and some others. We saw the line breaking. We would’ve arrived before the bullmen if not for the greater distance we had to cover.” She glanced in the direction the tauren had gone. “Adept reaction for their kind.”

“It is your brother who coordinated all,” the mage explained. “It is Jarod who may have saved the host.”

“Jarod?” Maiev’s tone indicated some disbelief, but when Krasus nodded, she buried that disbelief and tipped her head to the captain. “A simple officer of the city guard playing commander! Fortune was with you this time, brother.”

He simply nodded, his eyes cast to the side.

Rhonin, however, did not let Maiev’s slight pass. “Fortune? Good, common sense, is what it was!”

The priestess shrugged off the incident. “Little brother, you were introducing us…”

“Forgive me! Maiev, the elder mage is Krasus. To his side is the wizard, Rhonin—”

“Such illustrious visitors are welcome in this time,” she interrupted. “May the blessing of Elune be upon you.”

“And this,” the captain continued, “is Malfurion Stormrage, the—”

Maiev’s eyes burned into the druid’s. “Yes…you were known to one of our sisters, Tyrande Whisperwind.”

Considering that Tyrande had become high priestess, albeit for only a short period before her kidnapping, the remark was not one Malfurion found respectful. “Yes, we grew up together.”

“We mourn our loss. I fear her inexperience betrayed her. It would’ve been better for her if her predecessor had chosen one more…seasoned.” There was a subtle implication that Maiev referred to herself.

Biting back his anger, Malfurion said, “There was no fault by her. The battle had spread everywhere. She came to my defense, but was injured. Unconscious. During the chaos that followed, servants of the demons took her.” He met the other priestess’s steely gaze. “And we will get her back.”

Jarod’s sister nodded. “I will pray to Elune that it is so.” She looked to the captain. “I’m glad you weren’t injured too badly, little brother. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must attend to the other sisters. Marinda’s loss means we must quickly decide on a new leader. She had not yet chosen one herself.” With a bow that extended mostly to Krasus, Maiev ended, “Again, may the blessings of Elune be upon you.”

When she was far away, Rhonin grunted and said, “A cheerful, friendly sort, your sister.”

“She’s very dedicated to the traditional teachings of Elune,” Jarod responded defensively. “She’s always been very serious.”

“One cannot fault her for her dedication,” Krasus remarked. “Providing it does not blind her to the paths taken by others.”

Jarod was saved from further defense of Maiev by Brox’s return. The orc had a satisfied grin on his wide face.

“Good battle! Many deaths to sing of! Many warriors to praise for the blood they’ve spilled!
”

“How lovely,” muttered Rhonin.

“Tauren’re good fighters. Welcome comrades in any war.
”
The hulking, green warrior came to a halt, resting his ax on the ground.
“
Not as good as orcs
…
but almost.
”

Krasus eyed the direction of the battle.
“
Another temporary reprieve, at best, even with the joining of the other races. This cannot continue. We must turn the tide once and for all!
”

“But that would mean the dragons…” his former protege interjected. “And they don’t dare do anything, not so long as Deathwing has the Demon Soul.
”
Rhonin saw no reason to call the black dragon by his original name, Neltharion, anymore.

“No, I fear they dare not. We saw what happened when the blue dragons tried.”

Malfurion frowned. He thought of Tyrande. Nothing could truly be done for her unless the Burning Legion was thwarted and they would need everyone, especially the dragons, to accomplish that. But the dragons could not face the Demon Soul, so that meant—

“Then, we’ve got to take it from the black,
”
he suddenly announced.

Even from Brox, ever willing to leap into any battle, the druid received a wide stare. Jarod shook his head in dismay and Rhonin eyed Malfurion as if he had gone completely mad.

Yet, Krasus, after his initial surprise, gave the night elf a speculative look.

“Malfurion is correct, I am afraid. We must do it.”

“Krasus, you can’t be serious—”

The dragon mage cut off the wizard.
“
I am. I had already vaguely considered it myself.
”

“But we don’t even know where Deathwing is. He’s shielded himself even better than the other dragons.
”

“That is true. I have considered some ancient spells, but none so far that I believe will have much success. I will attempt them, and if they fail, I will then have to—”

“I think I can do it,” Malfurion interrupted. “I think I can find him through the Emerald Dream. I don’t believe he’s sealed himself off from it as the palace has done.
”

Krasus looked quite impressed by the druid.
“
You may very well be right, young one
…”
He considered further.
“
But even if he has made such an error, there is, of course, the danger that Neltharion will still sense you. He did, as you mentioned earlier, try to track you inside the Dream.
”

“I’ve learned to be more careful. I’ll do it. It’s the only way to save her—to save us.
”

The cowled figure placed a gloved hand on Malfurion’s shoulder.
“
We will do what we can for her, too.
”

“I’ll start immediately.
”

“No! You need rest first. For her sake as well as yours, you need to be at your best. If you make a mistake or are discovered by him, all will be lost.”