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Chapter summary: After the adventurers defeat Vexallus and move on to Priestess Delrissa and her four associates, Kael recalls the kaldorei visitors, and how his interactions with the stranded naga provoked harsh responses from Garithos.
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Deceiver, Chapter 11: Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part I
by silverr
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~ : |11| : ~
Annihilate them!
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Well, I must say I am impressed. You had the intelligence and coordination to take down Vexallus.
How fortunate for you that you work so well together.
My brother told me years ago that my success would depend on who I kept around me. I thought at the time he simply meant that one should choose one's advisors well, but I have come to understand his words to also mean that the way your followers see you shapes your destiny. If they look upon you with contempt, you may become a monster; if they look upon you with pity, you may begin to feel helpless… but if they look upon you with adoration and fear, you may start to think of yourself as an exalted being. Divine, almost a god.
Kil'jaeden himself was shaped by those he chose to be the instruments of his vengeance — and look at my dear Delrissa. She has gathered around herself the hunted, the hated, those who claim no allegiance, and those who can call no world home; beings ethereal or twisted or broken. They worshipped her as a goddess of death and life, and thus she became one.
I am no different… but why would I be?
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As Kael and Lana'thel led Malfurion and Maiev toward Illidan's location in Dalaran, Maiev explained that the snakelike creatures with Illidan were called naga, and that they were Highborne who had been trapped at the bottom of the Great Sea and cursed ten millennia ago when the Well of Eternity had nearly destroyed the world.
"Cursed Highborne?" Kael's own people were descended from kaldorei Highborne who had been banished from Kalimdor after the Great Sundering. Kael had always thought it a cruel punishment, but compared to being trapped in watery darkness for millennia…
"Illidan bought their loyalty by freeing them," Maiev said. "He offered them the opportunity to wreak vengeance on those who dwell on land." She paused and then added grimly, "Every death they have caused is on his head, and on the head of the one who freed him."
"That's enough," Malfurion warned.
Maiev pressed her lips together and hurried on ahead.
"I don't understand how anyone can contain so much hatred," Lana'thel said softly.
"I can," Kael said, "if she feels about this Illidan the way I feel about Arthas."
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Kael hadn't sensed Illidan's location when he'd first searched Dalaran, but now he could feel the spell the demon and his naga were casting pulling at him like a whirlpool through the ruins. It wasn't long before he could see a sickly greenish glow coming from a sunken courtyard.
"I feel their spell ripping through the roof of the world," Malfurion said. "We must end this!" He lifted his staff, then slammed the end of it down.
Like the ripple from a pebble dropped into a pond, a wave lifted the surface of the broken stone paving, flowing over and down the stairs leading to the courtyard. An instant later, there was a flash of green light and a cry of frustration. "No! The spell is not done! It is not done!"
"It is over, brother," Malfurion said, looking down into the courtyard from the top of the stairs. "Your vile schemes end here."
Kael couldn't believe what he'd just heard. No it couldn't be right. Had the archdruid referred to the demon as his brother? He raced up the stairs, but Maiev was even faster.
"Illidan Stormrage," she said, her voice thick with rage, "for recklessly endangering countless lives and threatening the very balance of the world, I hereby sentence you to death!"
The courtyard was nearly empty. Whatever artifact had been there, whatever ritual it had been used for, there was no trace of it other than the dead naga symmetrically arranged around the central mosaic — and in the center, down on one knee, the demon.
Kael had never seen such a creature. Demonic he certainly was: huge leathery wings hung from his back, hideous horns curved up from his forehead, and eerily glowing runes meandered over his bare chest and down his arms to his clawed hands. What malevolent force had twisted him thus? To Kael, Illidan's form was even more horrifying than that of the cursed naga, retaining as it did vestiges of the kaldorei he once had been. When he turned to face them, Kael was startled by the strip of black cloth covering Illidan's eyes; was the demon blind?
"Too much blood has been spilled on your behalf, Illidan," Malfurion said. "Even now I can feel the lands of Northrend reeling from the spell you cast. Imprisonment will not be enough this time."
Northrend? Kael hadn't realized that Maiev and Malfurion had meant Northrend when they'd referred to the roof of the world. A wisp of curiosity arose in Kael: did Illidan's spell have something to do with the forces in Northrend that had twisted Kel'Thuzad and Arthas?
Maiev moved forward, down the steps toward Illidan. "I will execute him myself."
"Fools! Can you not see?" Illidan stood, and his wings rustled as if he was preparing to take flight. "The spell we channeled was meant to strike at the undead — our common enemy! My mission was to destroy the Lich King's stronghold of Icecrown!"
Stunned, Kael looked at Lana'thel and Freywinn. The Lich King? Had Illidan been attacking the lich Kel'Thuzad, the servant of Arthas? Kael felt a surge of doubt: he hadn't questioned Maiev's assertion that Illidan was malevolent, an enemy to be destroyed, but if he was fighting against the undead and Arthas…
"At no heed to the cost?" Malfurion shouted. "Because of you Tyrande is dead!" He made an angry gesture, and immediately thick vines sprang up around Illidan, tangling around his legs and waist.
"What?" Illidan whispered, sounding almost shocked. "She is… dead?"
Kael was confused. "Your pardon, Lord Stormrage," he said to Malfurion, "but the priestess may still be alive! She was swept downriver, and though Freywinn did not find her, it's premature to simply assume that—"
"Silence, Kael!" Maiev snarled, but it was too late.
"You told me she was torn apart!" Malfurion roared at Maiev. "You lied to me!"
"The Betrayer's capture was our primary concern, Shan'do," Maiev said. "I knew you would go to her aid and we would lose our chance. I—"
"Just who is the betrayer now?" Malfurion replied. "I must go to Tyrande immediately."
"Believe me brother," Illidan said, "despite all our differences, you know that I would never lead Tyrande to harm. Let me help you. My naga can scour the river for us! Let me do this, at least."
Malfurion considered, then gave a sharp nod. "Very well."
Maiev was outraged. "What? After all this he's done, you would trust this traitor to—"
Malfurion gestured again, and the vines instantly fell from Illidan and coiled around Maiev, knocking her weapon from her hand. "Silence! I will deal with you later. Let's go—brother."
As they started to leave, Freywinn stepped in front of Malfurion. "Great one, the druidic ways have long been lost to our people. Before you leave our shores, I beg you—heal our land."
Malfurion looked down at him. "The old ways are not as lost as you think, young one," he said, putting his palm against Freywinn's forehead for a moment before he moved away.
"Don't just stand there," Maiev demanded as soon as Malfurion and Illidan were out of sight. "Cut me free!"
"I don't think so," Kael said, watching as Lana'thel picked up Maiev's weapon. "Your shan'do put you in those vines. I trust his judgment."
"Then you are a fool," she said. "As much a fool as he."
"Archdruid Malfurion seems very wise," Freywinn said, sounding dazed. He was gingerly touching his forehead.
"He's blinded by love," Maiev said contemptuously.
"Tell me more about those brothers, and their priestess, and the naga," Kael said, "and I will consider freeing you."
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Some hours later, after the vines holding Maiev had receded and she had snatched up her weapon and rushed off, Kael, Lana'thel and Freywinn headed back toward Pyrewood Village. It was just after moonset; the sky was beginning to lighten with predawn.
The story that Kael had coaxed from Maiev was a puzzling one, even after making allowances for her strong biases. As Kael understood it, ten thousand years previously, Illidan, a Highborne sorcerer, had aided Queen Azshara's scheme to summon the dark Titan Sargeras to Azeroth, a folly that drew the attention of a demonic horde and resulted in the War of the Ancients. That war had only ended with the destruction of the Well of Eternity, an event which had very nearly shattered the entire world, but, according to Maiev, Illidan's crimes had not stopped there. Even though it had been forbidden, Illidan had clandestinely taken water from the Well prior to its destruction and had used it to create a new Well at the summit of Mount Hyjal. According to Maiev, it was for this last transgression above all else that Illidan had been imprisoned for ten thousand years in the deep prison of the Barrow Dens. Kael could not fathom why Illidan would have been so severely punished for attempting to restore what his people had lost.
Stranger still, Illidan had not escaped from the Dens but had been freed by Tyrande. When Kael had pressed Maiev for a reason why the High Priestess of Elune would do this, Maiev professed not to know. Clearly there was enmity between the two—Tyrande had apparently killed many of Maiev's Watchers in the process of freeing Illidan, and others had died fighting the naga that Illidan had summoned—but Kael sensed that there was more to the story.
And as for Illidan himself… As culpable as the demonic elf was for the deaths he and his naga had caused, and for the destruction his pursuit of power had brought to their people, Kael doubted Maiev's insistence that Illidan was irredeemably evil. The brief interaction Kael had witnessed between the brothers suggested otherwise; Illidan had seemed genuinely distressed about Tyrande, and if he truly were as monstrous as Maiev claimed, Malfurion surely would have had him executed thousands of years ago.
A fascinating quartet: he was sorry to see them go. He would have liked to know how the story ended — whether the brothers found their priestess, whether Maiev caught her prey… a pity he'd never know.
A messenger was waiting for them outside of Pyrewood Village, with orders that Kael and his key advisors were to report to Garithos at his camp north of Dalaran at dawn.
Puzzled—and somewhat uneasy—Kael asked Astalor, Vanthryn, Lana'thel, and Pathaleon to accompany him.
Garithos and his lieutenants rode out to meet them as they approached the camp.
"You are late, Prince Kael'thas," Garithos said as he reined in his horse. "I thought you elves prided yourselves on punctuality."
"It could not be helped, Lord Garithos. We've been assisting a delegation of night elves from across the sea," Kael replied. "They were pursuing a demon who—"
"I am not interested in your fanciful excuses. Night elves? Demons? What's next—dragons? You say you are here to serve the Alliance. I allowed you to establish your own base of operations, and how do you repay my trust? By wasting time traipsing around doing Light knows what!"
"We defended the residents of Ambermill from the undead, milord, and helped them relocate to Pyrewood Village."
"On whose authority?"
"Our own," Kael said. "Ambermill was under attack; there was no time to seek permission. We were honor-bound to protect them; we did what needed to be done."
"Honor." Garithos curled his lip. "What gall, talking to me about honor. You elves are here to serve the Alliance; therefore, you will obey my commands—and only my commands—to the letter! Is that clear?"
Gratifying as it might feel, returning Garithos' rudeness in kind was unwise. Kael took a deep breath. "Yes, Lord Garithos."
Garithos' horse stamped and tossed its head, as if impatient with the conversation, and Garithos changed the subject. "The undead have begun a new offensive. Their primary strike force marched south through Silverpine, but we managed to halt its advance at the base of the mountains."
Kael wasn't certain that he had heard correctly. Was Garithos finally going to give them the opportunity to fight alongside human soldiers? He knew that Lana'thel and Freywinn must be exhausted, but fortunately the rest of his people had spent the night at Pyrewood and would be well-rested. "We are ready to fight, milord," he said. "When shall we leave for the front?"
"We will be leaving immediately. But your people will be staying here."
"But they are fighters, experienced in battling the undead. Send them somewhere they can be useful!"
"Useful? Very well. Our scouts report that a second strike force may be heading toward Dalaran from the east. Repair the outlying observatories so that we can monitor that region."
Someone — Astalor or Vanthryn, Kael wasn't sure — made a soft scoffing noise, but Kael didn't dare turn his head to look. "Repairing the observatories is a task that will occupy only a handful of us for an hour or two," he said. "What about the rest of my people?"
"You chose to set yourself and your people apart from the Alliance," Garithos said. "Re-thinking that, are you?"
Kael held back from reminding Garithos that the elves had been told to fend for themselves when they'd arrived and all but forcibly driven from the main camp.
"If you move your people up here," Garithos said expansively, "I'm sure we'll be able to find something for them to do."
"Must be time to dig new latrines," Astalor murmured.
"Enough," Kael said quietly.
"Well, you have your orders, Prince Kael'thas," Garithos said. "I trust your elven ears heard them clearly enough? Move out!"
And then he and his aides wheeled their horses around and rode them back into the Alliance camp.
Kael swore quietly in Thalassian, then pulled himself together. "Let's get this over with," he said.
"If I could?" Pathaleon said hesitantly. "As your quartermaster, I wonder if we might perhaps consider the Grand Marshal's suggestion? Our resources are dwindling, after all, and with the Ambermill residents evacuated to Pyrewood Village, there's no one to protect in Silverpine except ourselves."
Kael looked at Vanthryn and Lana'thel; he could see that they agreed. "Is it worth tolerating Garithos' abuse in hopes that we might be seen as useful allies by the other human commanders?" he asked them.
"That might be prudent," Vanthryn said. "After all, any of them might be leading the army someday."
"Garithos might meet with an unfortunate accident," Astalor added.
"If we're underfoot," Lana'thel said as Kael gave Astalor a warning glare, "they might give us missions simply to have us out of the way."
"That's what worries me," Kael said. "We must risk it, if only because we have no other choice."
At Pyrewood Village, they gave their regards to the Ambermill refugees. When Kael explained that he had been ordered to transfer his forces to Garithos' encampment, William and Amelia stressed how grateful they were for the help that Kael and his people had given them, and admonished Kael to take care of himself.
"And you're not leaving without supplies," Amelia said brusquely. "In a horse-drawn wagon. Save your veins for something more important than transport." This last was addressed to Astalor, who pretended to be offended.
As the wagon was being loaded, Kael explained their new orders to the rest of his people. "After we salvage anything useful left at the farm," he said, "Astalor and I will see to the observatories while the rest of you get settled up north."
"Might I accompany you on the repair mission?" an elf with short hair asked. "The observatories are magitech; I worked on them with the Dalaran engineers more than once."
"Telonicus, isn't it?" Kael said. "Your expertise is most welcome."
As the few supplies left at the farm were quickly loaded onto Amelia's wagon, Kael went to the lean-to that had been his makeshift smithy and stood at the forge, looking down at the ashy leavings that were the only evidence of his attempt to repair the sword. It had only been a day, yet it felt as though much more time had passed… or rather, Kael had the sense that time was rushing past while he stood still, accomplishing nothing that he had vowed to do. It wasn't Garithos' scorn that troubled him; it was the knowledge that the kaldorei were also pursuing Arthas. Kael didn't know how he could face his people if Illidan was the one to take Arthas down. Then again, if Maiev caught her prey before Illidan did away with his…
He looked up as he heard someone walking toward him. It was Lana'thel and Selin.
"There may be undead near the observatories," Lana'thel said. "Selin and I will escort you and stand guard while you work."
As the observatories were located along Dalaran's outskirts rather than in the midst of its ruins, Kael was certain that he, Astalor, and Telonicus would be more than adequate to deal with any stray undead they might encounter. Nevertheless, he nodded and said, "The company is not unwelcome."
The corner of Lana'thel's mouth curved up in a charming half-smile, and she came to stand beside him at the forge. "In a way, I'm relieved that you weren't able to repair the sword here, in the middle of human lands. To me it's more fitting that it be restored in the heart of Quel'Thalas."
Kael, while he understood Lana'thel's sentiment, had no intention of working on the blade in Silvermoon. It had been humiliating enough having Lana'thel witness his initial failure; should he now entertain the general populace with a public spectacle of his inadequacy?
"You're tired," Lana'thel said when he didn't respond. "All will seem less bleak once you've had time to rest."
Kael glanced at Astalor, who looked unexpectedly reserved. The awkward silence was interrupted by Telonicus, who regarded the forge skeptically. "Is this where you were working on Felo'melorn?" he asked, picking up a brittle lump of charcoal. "It's a wonder you even got a fire to draw with such primitive equipment. I'm guessing the metal barely became warm?"
"Kael'thas said that the sword needed to be submerged in lava," Lana'thel said. "I thought he was joking."
"No, that's accurate, if impractical," Telonicus said. "The problem with forging in lava is the retrieval. 'A molten anvil is difficult to work with, especially if your flesh is charred to the bone!' — or so the Master Firesmith used to say."
"You studied under Voladranus?" Kael asked. What metalcraft he knew he had learned a thousand years ago from the burn-scarred elf; he had been especially sad to see him listed on the rolls of those who died during the invasion.
"Thaumaturgic metallurgy," Telonicus said. He crumbled the charcoal between his fingers. "A brilliant teacher, if eccentric. His solution to intractable problems was always 'Apply dragonfire!'"
"I well remember," Kael said. "Dragons must have been more plentiful in his day. Or more accommodating."
"So dragonfire solves all?" Lana'thel asked. "Well, what if we surrounded the forge with a bonfire? Would that approximate dragon's breath?"
"Doubtful," Telonicus said. "Metalworking takes sustained heat."
"But a dragon doesn't breathe flame steadily for hours, does it?" she countered.
Kael was certain that any fire the four of them could build would fall far short of being an adequate substitute for dragon's breath, but Telonicus said suddenly, "Actually… you've given me an idea, Lana. The semi-liquid compound used in the fire bombs I've been designing burns extremely hot. If applied to a sufficiently large quantity of wood…. it won't be dragon's breath, but it might come close." He curled his fingers into fists, and then bumped the knuckles of each hand against each other. "Arrange the sword on something flat with the broken ends abutting. I'll spread additional compound on the break, we'll coat the rest of the blade with clay, and then start the fire. We'll come back once it's burned out and see if it got hot enough for ends of the break to fuse."
Kael had his doubts, but Lana'thel and Telonicus were so enthusiastic that he nodded. Within moments, the two had reduced the lean-to to a pile of broken planks, which they began stacking around three sides of the forge.
Kael knew that they probably should be carrying out Garithos' orders and repairing the observatories, but he supposed another quarter-hour would hardly make any difference.
As Lana'thel and Selin ran off to pull down the rest of the farm's outbuildings—Astalor was nowhere to be seen—Telonicus announced that he would mix a clay-and-flux slurry to protect the greater portion of the blade from the flames.
After some thought, Kael arranged the forge's dead coals with a deep furrow traversing the width. When Telonicus returned with the slurry, the two of them coated all but the very edges of the break with the mixture; when it had dried, they buried all but the uncoated edges in the coals.
"This should allow the heated air to circulate around both sides of the blade," Telonicus said, squatting at the edge of the forge and peering critically at the setup. "But we should put something underneath the break in case the coals collapse. Something that won't burn."
Kael, feeling increasingly doubtful about the wisdom of such an unorthodox approach, was about to suggest that they not even bother when he recalled the shard of black metal in his pocket. He pulled it out and showed it to Telonicus. "Perhaps this?"
Telonicus' eyes went wide. "What is that from?"
"I do not know," Kael said, holding the shard of grey-veined black metal by one edge as Telonicus coated it with the flame compound, a thick, honey-like liquid. "I came across it in a weapons store-room during my first week in Dalaran. No one was ever able to identify its composition or what type of weapon it came from, so I kept it as a curiosity. " He slipped the shard under the edges of the break; Telonicus' compound made it cling to the underside of the broken blade. "I happened to find it in the ruins of my workshop when we were searching for Illidan."
"Fortunately for us." Telonicus carefully daubed more flame compound along the faint seam of the adjoining pieces. "Perhaps it wanted to be found by you."
"What a thought," Kael said. He noticed the packet with the remainder of Skorgrim's color crystals in the bottom of the empty coal box; he unfolded the packet and sprinkled the crystals into the forge. "I was told these would give flames a blue cast if the temperature was sufficiently great."
"Then we must ensure that it is sufficient."
Kael turned around to see who had spoken and saw Astalor — and next to him, Rommath.
Astalor waved a hand and said, "I thought that, as the three of us worked together with such success on Quel'Danas, coordinating our power to burn out the corrupted Sunwell, we could easily do so again. Felo'melorn is, after all, almost as much a symbol of the power of the quel'dorei— "
"Sin'dorei," Rommath said quietly.
"—the power of the sin'dorei as the Sunwell. It will mean a great deal to our people to have it restored."
Kael had come to understand Astalor well enough to know that what he said and did were not always truthful reflections of his thoughts and feelings, and wondered what, if anything, this apparently straightforward offer was masking. Taken at face value, it did offer an explanation — albeit a somewhat contrived one — for Rommath's presence, but Kael couldn't shake the feeling that it was a test of some sort. And if he failed, when he failed, it would demonstrate that, whether the task was magical or mundane, Kael could accomplish nothing of import on his own. He could almost hear Astalor asking someone — Theron, perhaps — how it was in the best interests of Quel'Thalas to follow such a weak, ineffectual person.
He rubbed his eyes. Lana'thel was right: exhaustion was making him fearful and suspicious, seeing disloyalty and treason where there was none.
if there was any culprit, it was within his own heart. The crowds in Silvermoon who had greeted him with hostility had mired him in self doubt, certain that they would never follow him the way they had followed his father. And why should they? Anasterian's belief in the superiority of the elves was so strong that he never would have turned to outsiders for help: had Kael made his people look weak by turning to the Alliance of Lordaeron?
"My lord?" Rommath looked concerned, and Kael realized that he had not responded to Astalor's comment.
"Yes, of course," he said. "Restoring the sword is a task worthy of our skills."
Lana'thel and Selin and Telonicus approached with armloads of broken planks and piled them around and over the forge. As Telonicus poured the last of his flame compound over the mound of wood, Astalor and Rommath started to move into position around the perimeter of the woodpile.
"No," Kael said suddenly. "Stop. Wait."
"Is something wrong?" Rommath asked.
"There is something I must say," Kael replied. "Indulge me."
He put his hand over his chest, clutching the fire-amulet through his robe. Its presence was a reminder of the vision he'd had during the phoenix-transformation that had created the Scorched Grove, the vision of the old man — his father's spirit, he believed — who had urged him to persevere.
"What does it mean to lead a people, to be a ruler? What qualities does it require, what virtues?
"I learned the answer from the examples of my father and brother: courage, confidence, strength, unshakeable resolve, nobility of spirit. I have never considered myself to possess those characteristics in any great measure, but then again I always expected to serve as an advisor to the crown, not wear it myself. A role with which I would have been content.
"But my father and brother were taken from us, and I am expected to rule in their stead."
Kael knew that when even these, his closest advisors, looked at him, they saw not a strong, inspiring leader who could guide their people, but a bookish scholar who needed constant protection. Arthas himself had seen it the day they met: "Leave this old elf to his books," he had told Jaina.
"I have struggled with how to become the kind of king my father was," Kael continued, "the kind of king my brother would have been, but I now know that this is impossible."
They all looked startled, and all but Astalor and Telonicus opened their mouths to protest, but Kael held up his hand. "Our world has changed. We can no longer live in placid contentment behind golden doors and walls, muffling our ears to the cries of those outside our borders, for that which protected us has been smashed to dust. We are beset by multiple enemies, and have seen the allies of old withdraw the hand they once extended in welcome.
"But we will not let that stop us. We are sin'dorei! We will remake ourselves, and rise from the ashes into new glory!"
Kael imagined gathering up his frustrations and uncertainties and self-reproach like so much spectral kindling and casting them onto the unlit pyre; somehow this symbolic gesture made him feel lighter, as though he'd been relieved of a weight he hadn't even noticed that he was carrying.
"Anasterian did what was necessary for his time, in the way he thought best, according to his nature," Kael said, feeling the truth of the words soar as he spoke them, "and so must I. I will do what is necessary for our time, but I must do it in my own way."
Still holding the amulet tightly, he drew on the power he had stored in the verdant spheres, drinking it in until he felt it pool and burst in his chest, an incandescence that arced outward to his fingertips, his pinions. As Astalor and Rommath fell back from the igniting woodpile, Kael spread his arms, his wings, and rose up.
As the flames below him became an inferno, he circled above it, joyous, the crescendo of magic pulsing from the center of his being in ebbing waves. High, higher he soared, so far that the land became a tapestry of green and brown and yellow and gray; through the clouds he flew, gloriously free, applauded by the sun. He knew he must return; he had a great mission before him...
He was lying on his back. Although there were twigs and sharp leaves poking into his skin, he felt calm, more fully rested than he had been in weeks.
(He dimly recalled spiralling down, away from the wistful sun, though the clouds, stretching out his fiery talons as the field rushed up at him; slowing his descent with strong backbeats of his wings until talons became feet and wingtips became hands.)
A gust of wind whispered through the dry stalks around him; then he heard faint voices.
He stood up. He had landed in an uncleared area in the southeastern quadrant of the field. Over the tops of the shoulder-high vegetation that surrounded him, he saw that he was some distance south of the house and the forge — or rather, south of the massive twin bonfires blazing where the house and forge had been. Astalor, Rommath, Selin, Lana'thel, and Telonicus were running toward him.
There was a rustle at his feet, and saw that someone— Astalor, most likely — had teleported a robe to him. As he slipped it on, he noticed that his amulet was missing; it must have fallen off when he transformed.
"Clearly you've mastered the phoenix-form," Astalor panted, slowing to a walk as he came near. "A graceful landing instead of falling, and you aren't sleeping for four days afterward."
"A good thing too," Kael said. "Garithos isn't known for his patience."
"That was quite a speech," Selin said. "I feel privileged to be one of the first to have heard it."
"The fire is burning well," Lana'thel said.
"Yes," Kael said, "although not quite as impressive as I'd hoped." Half-thinking, he gestured toward the bonfire.
A massive gout of flame burst from his fingertips and arced over the field toward the forge's bonfire. When it hit, it doubled the height of the flames and threaded them with brilliant blue.
Kael stared at his hand in astonishment. How was it possible to cast such a powerful blast without the effort his spellcasting had required ever since Arthas had invaded Quel'Thalas? Wonderingly, he flicked his fingers, conjuring a small fireball. He felt almost dizzy with elation. He was… restored? Had the Sunwell somehow been re-ignited?
"Is there something wrong, my prince?" Selin asked.
"I… no," he said. He nodded at the two bonfires. "As we will have to wait for those to die down before we see the results of our attempt at dragonfire, let us pass the time by repairing Garithos' observatories."
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They moved quickly through the forest between the farm and the observatory south of the ruins of Dalaran, alert for undead, but they saw none. Ambermill too was empty, eerily silent.
The first observatory was just outside the ruins of the South Gate. While Telonicus and Rommath made the repairs, Kael sat on a stone and studied a puff of conjured flame, considering how he might convert its fire energy to a form that would recharge the magic in the depleted moon-crystals at the heart of his verdant spheres. He had tried casting other spells—first an arcane spark, of course, and then a frost bloom—but they made him feel clumsy and vaguely ill. Although he preferred the feel of arcane, fire had always come most easily to him, so perhaps it was no wonder that it was the first to return.
"That's a rare sight," Lana'thel said as she and Astalor picked their way through the rubble toward him.
"Clearly you have spent very little time around mages," Astalor said. "Conjuring that sort of non-burning flame is the first spell a mage is taught if they are still a very young child, but after it's mastered no one but those attempting to impress non-mages ever waste time with something so useless again."
"I didn't mean the fire," Lana'thel countered. "I meant the sight of Kael'thas smiling."
"We've not had much to smile about for some time," Telonicus said without looking up from his work.
"And now we do?" Rommath asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Though this task is small," Kael said, "it is our first official mission for the Alliance of Lordaeron."
"So you consider the insult of being assigned a menial task… progress?" Astalor asked.
"I do if it marks the beginning of a new era of human-elven cooperation."
"Done," Telonicus said. He made a final adjustment; as he closed a panel at the base of the observatory obelisk and bolted it in place, the orbs atop the observatory crackled with energy, and then began to rotate. "The other two are along the eastern shore of the lake."
"Portal?" Astalor asked.
"No," Kael said, dismissing the flame. "If Garithos' scouts were correct, a large undead strike force is gathering in that area. I would prefer not to teleport blindly into the enemy."
"Walk or swim?" Astalor asked. The shoreline, once a pleasant greenway that curved around the base of steep cliffs, was now edged with scree and jagged debris. ""Either way — "
He didn't finish his sentence. Three creatures Kael recognized as naga emerged from the water and glided toward them. The two in the front, scaly dragon-headed brutes carrying massive bronze spears, were similar to the corpses Kael had seen in the courtyard where Illidan had been doing his ritual, but the third was different. Smaller, with light blue skin, its features were more delicate than the other two; its glossy, elaborately-curled black hair and upper torso made it seem almost feminine, although as it came closer Kael saw that what he had at first taken to be hair was actually an assemblage of snakes, something he found even more horrifying than the creature's six arms. It held a large, ornate bow in one of its three left hands.
"Naga!" Kael said, conjuring a fireball, and noting that Lana'thel and Selin had already raised their weapons and taken a battle-ready stance. "You came to this land with the demon Illidan!"
The naga with the bow spoke. "We are on our own now, good prince. I am called Lady Vashj." Her voice would have been pleasantly melodious if not for its eerie watery quaver. "My brethren and I come in peace, to offer you our aid."
Even without Maiev's stories of naga brutality, Kael knew well enough not to mistake polite speech for nobility or gentleness of spirit. "You have nothing I need, witch," he said firmly.
"Is that so?" Her inhuman face gave no indication if she was offended or amused, which was unsettling. She made some guttural hissing sounds and gestured to her companions, who turned and dove into the water. "I thought you might require boats to reach the observatories you seek," she said.
"How do you know what I require?"
She swayed slightly. "We observed your progress, and overheard the conversation that followed." Behind her, the water churned as the algae-stained hulls of two small boats broke the surface, then were set upright.
"And you would give these freely?" Kael asked. "Why should I trust you, my lady?"
"For the same reason that I trust that you and your five companions will not attack me. Our two races share a common ancestry, Kael. Now, against the undead, we share a common peril. These boats are merely a gesture of goodwill."
Kael considered. The boats seemed to be serviceable, and using them would be expedient. As long as they remained cautious and watchful around the naga, perhaps it was worth the risk…
"You hesitate," Vashj said. "Would it ease your mind if we withdrew?"
Astalor folded his arms. "To ambush us from beneath the water?"
"How suspicious you land dwellers are," she said. "If you prefer, we could accompany you from the shallows." She added, "As a sign of trust, we will even allow you to carry our weapons."
"Thus drawing our attention away from the warriors you have hidden in the depths of the lake?" Astalor said.
"If I had such superior numbers and meant you harm," Vashj said smoothly, "I would have overpowered you by now." She was in constant motion, torso swaying like a reed, her coif of water serpents and eels undulating and coiling… Grotesque, and yet also fascinating.
"Very true," Kael said. ""I accept your offer. Thank you."
"Unfortunately, we found no oars near the boats," Vashj said. "My warriors can pull the boats across the lake, but that will be impossible from the shallows."
Well-played, Kael thought and almost laughed. And now they're 'her warriors' instead of our brethren. This Lady excels at delicate distinctions. Glancing at Astalor, Kael motioned to the naga to bring a boat near, and then stepped into it. Lana'thel and Selin followed him; Astalor, Rommath and Telonicus boarded the other.
Vashj made a series of hissing, clicking sounds—naga language, Kael assumed—and her warriors moved to the prow of each boat. Kael found these naga males—he assumed they were males, as their draconian heads and massive torsos differed so much in appearance from Vashj — truly repulsive, even without the overpoweringly oily odor that emanated from their skin.
Vashj gave a signal, and as one the naga loomed up out of the water, holding out the blunt ends of their spears toward Kael and the others. "In the absence of rope…" she said.
Kael, who had been startled by the sudden movement, said, "Ah, I understand. We are meant to hold onto the warriors' weapons in order to allow them to pull the boats across the lake?"
Vashj moved to Lana'thel and held out her bow. "Perhaps you would carry this for me until we have made the crossing?"
Reluctantly, Lana'thel took the bow and then looked at Kael.
"As assurance that she will not attack us from range," Kael said, "and, I suspect, an acknowledgement that you are the superior warrior among our company."
Vashj made a sibilant sound which Kael took to mean that he had interpreted her actions correctly, and then the boats began to move. Moments later they were at the far shore, within sight of the second observatory.
"Thank you," Kael said to Vashj, bowing to her before he stepped out of the boat. Her silvery eyes were expressionless, but once Kael and the others were ashore and Lana'thel had returned her bow, she inclined her head and bowed slightly as well — a gesture that was oddly graceful despite the writhing snakes framing her face — and then turned and dove into the water after her warriors.
"How unexpected," Astalor said as they hurried toward the observatory.
"She said they were abandoned by Illidan. Perhaps they are looking for allies?"
"They won't find allies here," Selin said. "Their best hope is to return to the sea and swim back to rejoin the rest of their kind. It's not far to the western coast; they should be able to travel overland through Silverpine."
"Done," Telonicus said as the observatory began to hum with power. "On to the next?"
The last of the observatories was soon repaired. Kael, though eager to return to the farm and retrieve Felo'melorn, decided that the prudent course was to first give Garithos their report.
"Open a portal," he said to Astalor and Rommath. Once they reached the gates of the Alliance camp, Kael asked Selin to locate their new encampment.
"He doesn't look happy," Lana'thel said, looking at something over Kael's shoulder.
Kael turned. Garithos and his aides Saxon and Swift were riding toward them, scowling with disapproval.
"Hail, Lord Garithos," Kael began. "The observatories have been repaired as you requested. We were just about to—"
"Is it true that you consorted with the vile naga?" Garithos asked.
Kael was shocked, but as there was no denying it, the only thing to do was to explain. "Well, yes milord. They helped us cross the lake. I can assure you they pose no threat to us or to—"
"They are inhuman, and must be crushed like any other enemy!" Garithos' eyes narrowed. "Be careful where you place your loyalties, blood elf. I will not tolerate treason in my ranks."
Kael was astounded. Garithos was threatening him? "My loyalty is to the Alliance, Lord Garithos, and always has been."
"That remains to be seen. Now I must return to the front. You will remain here and wait for further orders."
Kael watched Garithos and Saxon ride away. How had he known about the naga? Had he actually sent someone to spy on them?
"An accident," Astalor muttered. "I could make it look like an accident."
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Vanthryn and Pathaleon had found an acceptable location for their campsite not far from Skorgrim's smithy, and as Kael approached he saw that tents had been pitched and campfires built. Usually these sights cheered him, but not this afternoon.
It was far too early to sleep, and so he thought perhaps it might be useful to take a walk. He'd not gone far before the toll of the past few days came due, and he collapsed onto a fallen log not far from where Skorgrim's wagon had been. He wondered if the dwarf had in fact packed up shop and gone back to Ironforge.
Listening to the faint noises of the camp — horses whinnying, voices shouting, the clang of metal on metal from weapon drills — he knew his approach to currying favor with the Alliance had failed. In theory it should have worked: prior to the invasion of Quel'Thalas and the destruction of Dalaran, Kael and his people had proven their worth multiple times, in various ways, to the seven kingdoms, and seemed to be looked upon favorably by the dwarves. Unfortunately, Garithos' promotion to Grand Marshal and Lord Commander had removed all checks on Sir Othmar's personality, encouraging his rude bigotry to blossom into outright tyranny. It seemed that the only thing to do now was to discreetly consider other allies.
"What thoughts weigh so heavily on you, my lord?"
Kael looked up. For the second time that day, he was surprised to see Rommath; this time, without Astalor. "I wonder if we should consider crossing the sea," Kael said. "Return to Kalimdor. Re-establish ties with our night elf brethren. Kaldorei prejudices can hardly be more harsh than what we are subject to here."
"A year ago that would have been unthinkable," Rommath said, shaking his head as he sat next to Kael. "But with the Stormrages and the high priestess to vouch for us…" He lowered his voice. "Oh yes, half the camp knows of your encounter, thanks to Freywinn. Are you thinking of pursuing an alliance?"
"Is it too bold?"
"No," Rommath said thoughtfully, "not if they are amenable to diplomacy and reason."
"Such have been my thoughts as well."
They sat for several minutes in silence. Kael wondered if he should perhaps say something acknowledging their recent awkwardness, but then thought better of it: Rommath's drunken confession was in the past, and was likely to be something the Grand Magister would prefer to forget.
A crunching sound on the path: Astalor and Lana'thel.
"We should retrieve the sword before the sun sets," Astalor said. "Who knows what we'll be doing tomorrow?"
"An excellent suggestion," Kael said, standing quickly. He was amused that he felt mildly guilty for having been discovered sitting alone with Rommath.
They found Lieutenant Swift near the command tent. "Are our hawkstriders stabled with the horses?" Kael asked him.
"Your hawk what now?"
"Hawkstriders. Our mounts. We brought two of them." The way that Swift was leering at Lana'thel was intolerable.
"The big chickens? I couldn't say — but it's no matter. Lord Garithos has said you're to remain here."
"I need to retrieve an item from our prior encampment."
"Is that what you call it? Your prior encampment? We call it 'the place the elves burned down.' " Swift shook his head and made tsk-tsk sounds. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? The flames and smoke were visible for miles."
Kael was dismayed. Whoever investigated the fire must have followed them to the lake and thus seen them with the naga! He looked at Astalor, who from his expression had made the same conclusion.
"It was a dragon," Astalor said.
Swift snorted. "You don't expect me to believe that."
"No, he doesn't," Kael said. "The truth of it is that one of our engineers has been developing a fire compound for the Alliance. The farm we'd been using as our base appeared to be an acceptable location for testing, as it was long abandoned and the buildings derelict. The test got out of hand. My apologies."
Swift considered this. "Why are you going back there?"
"In our hurry to escape the fire, I left something behind," Kael said. "A broken sword that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. It has sentimental value."
"Couldn't be that important if you left it behind."
Kael had a momentary urge to incinerate the man or at the very least strangle him, but he willed himself to be calm and speak patiently. "I meant to retrieve it after we completed our mission to repair the observatories, but it slipped my mind."
Swift looked sceptical, but motioned to a group of nearby soldiers and told them, "Get the wagon and escort this elf to that burned-out farm down south."
"That's not necessary," Kael'thas said. "I can just portal—"
"No," Swift said. "You'll do it my way, or not at all."
"We'll go with you," Astalor said.
Swift gave him a sour look. "Since when does it take more than one elf to pick up a sword?"
"Would you expect your king to go anywhere without members of his Royal Guard?" Astalor countered.
Swift clenched his jaw. "Fine. But two of you need to stay here to guarantee I get my wagon back."
"That is… acceptable."
The wagon, when it came, had barred sides.
"Kael'thas Sunstrider is heir to the throne of the kingdom of Quel'Thalas!" Astalor said angrily. "This is a prisoner transport!"
"It's what I have," Swift said. "Take it or leave it."
Kael, furious to be receiving yet more insulting treatment from Garithos' men, was nevertheless determined to do whatever it took to retrieve Felo'melorn, and so he said, "It's of no consequence, Astalor. I am not diminished by this." He glanced at Lana'thel as he climbed in, and she quickly followed; and after some inaudible communication with Astalor and Telonicus, Rommath did as well.
To be treated like a criminal and be thus humiliated… he thought as the wagon bumped and jostled, I have had my fill of the Alliance. He did not wish to speak in front of the human driver, however, and so with a quick shake of his head signalled Lana'thel and Rommath to be silent as well.
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Kael had expected to see twin heaps of charred, smoking wood at the farm, but only the collapsed remains of the house were visible from the road.
Where the forge bonfire had been there was — nothing, or rather, nothing that he had come for. Ash, soot, and fragments of charcoal and blackened wood radiated outward from a central point, at which was a small pile of ash outlined by still-warm traces of metal. Kael knelt and sifted through the ash, carefully at first and then more and more frantically, but found nothing but bits of slag and a few shards of red-flecked glass.
He looked up at the others, his horror mirrored in their faces.
He had destroyed Felo'melorn.
By the time they returned to the Alliance camp, he was mute with self-reproach. He had been punished for his arrogance, found unworthy by the ancestors. He barely noticed the human soldiers gaping and laughing at them as they climbed down from the prisoner wagon; he followed Selin to their camp, where he slipped into his tent and, infinitely weary, sank into oblivion.
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He woke next morning to a commotion.
Lieutenant Tierny and several of Garithos' elite guard stood in the center of his camp, talking to his people.
"Should I take my tent?" Veras was asking.
"No. just your weapons."
"Good morning, lieutenant," Kael said. "What is this about?"
"Greetings, Prince Kael. I bring word from Grand Marshal Garithos. Apparently the observatories you repaired yesterday have detected a large undead force massing nearby. Lord Garithos has commanded that you crush the undead before they can march on Dalaran."
A real mission at last? How unexpected. "Excellent! My people are all well-rested and ready for battle."
"Unfortunately, your forces may be a little thinned. You see, Lord Garithos has also ordered that all foot soldiers, cavalry, and support teams report to the front." He attempted to show Kael a list with many names, but Kael didn't need to see it, not when an unhappy crowd was gathering at the center of the camp: Lana'thel, Vanthryn, Sarannis, Veras, Selin, Thaladred, Gathios, Telonicus, Malande, Ennas…
"This is preposterous!" Kael said. "You're leaving me with less than one-tenth of my forces! Am I to assault the undead with nothing more than sticks and harsh language?"
"That is how mages fight, after all, isn't it?" Tierny joked. "Staves and curses?" He saw that Kael was not laughing along with him, and stopped smiling. "The grand marshal has great confidence in your abilities. Be creative."
And then he left.
"Garithos…" Kael said. "I'm starting to hate that man."
"Just starting?" Rommath murmured.
"So what shall we do?" Navarius asked. "Call on Silvermoon for reinforcements?"
"And have them snatched up to serve Garithos on the front? No. We will do this on our own. He thinks we will fail: let us prove him wrong."
"As he's taken all our priests and our paladin," Rommath said, "give me a moment to brew some healing potions."
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As it was the eastern observatories that had most likely detected undead — heading for Dalaran from the ruins of Lordaeron's capital city — Kael and his band of mages headed southeast from the Alliance camp, along the eastern shore of Lordamere Lake.
"I don't see any undead," Sandoval said. "How very disappointing."
"Prepare to he elated, then," Navarius said. "That looks to be a band of several dozen attacking the observatory."
The ghouls were the more aggressive type, and responded to their attacks by charging, but the elves managed to whittle their numbers while staying out of their reach.
It was only when Tenris turned away from the ground and began flinging his flame-bolts to the north that Kael noticed three additional groups of Scourge converging on them from the north, east, and south. With the lake to their back in the west, they were surrounded with nowhere to go.
"We must portal out, now!" Astalor shouted. "It is the only way! There are too many!"
The lake behind them churned suddenly, and a rain of arrows arced over their heads, pinning down the nearest group of undead.
Lady Vashj emerged from the water, a dozen naga warriors and sorceresses behind her. "Ishnu-dal-dieb, Prince Kael. We've come to join your fight against the vile dead."
"Greetings, Lady Vashj," Kael said. "I would welcome your aid gladly, but the commander I serve does not approve of your kind." Kael followed the flame-sphere that Taladram had sent toward an abomination with a carpet of scorched earth.
"I do not see him here, sharing your peril." Vashj said. "Let me bolster your forces with my own. If not, you and your brethren will surely fall."
"What you say is true. But I…" Kael looked around. Blood streamed not just from Astalor's arm, but Tenris' and Sandoval's and Rommath's as well. Kael watched two young mages he did not know well pass a dagger between them.
"More undead!" Vorath shouted as yet another wave of undead crested the hills to the northwest.
Kael could not ask them to fight like this. To die like this. "I accept your offer, Vashj."
"Good! Let's get to it then!" Vashj and her naga glided from the water. The myrmidons charged the undead with trident and spears, while the sorceresses and Vashj moved in front of the elves, the former casting lightning and frost bolts while Vashj shot what appeared to be an endless stream of arrows from her bow. By the time the undead were vanquished their charred remains covered the land around the observatory like grisly snow. Vashj had lost two of her people; Kael had lost none of his.
"You have my thanks, Lady," Kael said, watching as the naga extricated the corpses of the two fallen myrmidons from the field and bore them into the lake. "This victory would not have been possible without your aid, although I fear I may have doomed myself by accepting it."
"Why?"
"My forces were severely reduced before being sent on this mission," Kael said. "I believe it was done to ensure that my company and I would not survive this battle. The fact that we did will make it obvious that we had assistance."
"But we did assist you, did we not?"
"Yes, and for that I am grateful," Kael said, putting his hand on his heart and giving a small bow. "However, to some, the good deed is less important than the form of the doer. We were observed during our previous mission to this area, and forbidden by my commander to associate with you further."
"The human you serve trusts no race but his own," Vashj said. "His sense of honor runs no deeper than his tolerance. Why do you continue to serve such a one?"
"It is loyalty and duty that bind me to him and to this… failing Alliance," Kael said. "I trusted that unswerving service would be acknowledged and repaid in kind, but now those tenets seem as distant as our ruined homeland."
"Then perhaps, young Kael, it is time to find a new path to power and glory. Magic flowed through your veins for over ten thousand years. You became accustomed to it, grew to depend on it. And now, with the corruption of your land and the Sunwell that empowered you, you have been cut off from your power, from your birthright! Without a new source of magic, your people will surely die." She leaned toward him. "How long can your loyal servants bleed for you?"
Astalor waved a hand dismissively. "We each do what must be done, in our own way, according to our nature."
"I cannot allow it to continue, Astalor," Kael said to him. "Draining your life force in this manner…"
"There are other founts of power in this world, Kael," Vashj said. "Nearly limitless supplies, if one knows where to look, and how to take advantage of them. Demons, for instance."
"Demons?"
"Yessss," Vashj said. "There are methods of drawing upon a demon's energy as you once drew upon the arcane energy in the Sunwell."
"You speak of madness, my lady," Kael said. "We will never be that desperate."
"Your aversion is understandable. But still— "
"Prince Kael!" Sandoval said, pointing to the north. "Garithos' standard-bearers!"
Navarius peered into the distance. "He's brought a full battalion with him."
"Damn! Vashj, you'd best leave," Kael said. "I cannot guarantee your people's safety. Hurry!"
Vashj and her people dove into the lake, but not soon enough: a squad of Garithos' cavalry came thundering down the hill.
"Naga warriors!" one of them shouted as they charged toward the water.
"Forget about them!" Garithos bellowed. His pikemen encircled the elves. "So, Kael, you've shown your true colors at last. I knew you were in league with those serpents. Now I have all the proof I need to execute every traitorous one of you!"
"Execute? You wouldn't dare!" Tenris cried.
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Garithos said.
"Lor'themar Theron —"
"We'll simply tell anyone who asks that you disregarded a direct order and cost hundreds of human lives."
"That's not true!" Kael said. "We've done nothing for months but fight to save human lives!"
"You don't deny that you disobeyed a direct order, though, do you?" Garithos tossed back. "You elves may not understand military discipline, but by the Light, I do."
"Please, milord, spare my people!" Kael begged. "It was my decision to —"
"Save your breath," Garithos said. "I never trusted you vainglorious elves. It was a mistake to accept you into the Alliance in the first place. Now, at long last, you'll be dealt with appropriately. Take them away!"
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Next Chapter: Jail, jailbreak, and the entry into Outland.
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A big thank you once again to my beta Bryn, herder of large ideas and small bits of punctuation, and to Stinger for being a reliable source of military knowledge.
I have used as much Warcraft III dialogue in this chapter as I could. There are places where I added/interposed lines, but other than Kael and Vashj's conversation about magic addiction, the original lines appear verbatim as spoken by their WC3 speakers.
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First post 20 June 2015; rev 23 September 2015