Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.
Chapter summary: Illidan's army sets out to destroy the Frozen Throne.
This chapter is based on the final chapter, "A Symphony of Frost and Flame," of the Scourge Campaign in Warcraft III: The Frozen Throne.
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Deceiver, Chapter 14: Observation Grounds (Delrissa), Part IV
by silverr
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~ : |14| : ~
I could have sworn there were more of you!
Not really much of a group anymore, is it?
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What do you know of loss?
The pain of defeat is not the perceived insult to oneself, of being put in one's place: there is no shame in losing, one on one, to a superior opponent.
The true pain of losing is when those you call friends, those you care for, give their lives for you. A sacrifice you can never repay in kind.
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With Magtheridon defeated and Illidan reigning over Outland from the Black Temple, Kael had wanted to return to Quel'Thalas and set sail for Icecrown immediately,
"You have just helped subjugate an annihilan, little prince," Illidan said. "Take some time to savor the victory and recover your strength before we rush to the next task."
"The sea journey to Northrend will take weeks. There will be plenty of time to rest and savor once we have embarked."
Illidan shook his head and laughed. "So impatient!" he said. "Should we not learn more about the armies the Lich King may have at his command before we rush in? Our victory must be a decisive one."
Kael was uncertain how to respond to this. How would sitting in Outland bring them any information? Or… it had not previously occurred to Kael that Illidan might still experience fear or doubt: and why should he? He was an ancient, powerful being, and had such a force of blood elf, naga, orc, and demonic fighters under his command that the Lich King would fall quickly.
And after that, Illidan would be honor-bound to help Kael hunt down Arthas.
Illidan misinterpreted Kael's thoughtful silence. "You are free to go on alone, if you wish," he said, sounding petulant, "although, if you do, it will be without myself, Lady Vashj, or the forces we command."
"No," Kael said, "my people and I have already waited more than a year for our vengeance; we can be patient a while longer."
"A year," Illidan chuckled. "A year is but a moment!"
"Is that your way of telling me that you intend to wait another 'moment' before moving against the Lich King?" Kael asked.
"No, I shall not make you wait longer than necessary," Illidan said. "I give you my word, we will leave as soon as three hundred of your people join you."
"Three hundred?" Silvermoon's navy had not been a priority for rebuilding, and thus the badly-damaged harbor sheltered only a lone intact warship and a handful of small fishing vessels. "I would that you had told me sooner, my lord! I do not command sufficient ships." Kael wondered if he had enough goodwill with the dwarves to buy or borrow a few…
"We have no need of them," Illidan said. "My master has given me the means to transport our entire army to the shores of Northrend from here."
Kael's mind reeled at the thought of such a teleport. "How many demons and fel orcs will be accompanying us?" he asked.
"None," Illidan said casually, as if this was a trifling detail.
"None? Why?" Kael asked. "Your fel orcs alone outnumber Vashj's and my forces five times over! Add to that the demons you command—"
"Do not presume to question me!" Illidan snarled, leaping to his feet.
"Of course," Kael said, his heart pounding. "My apologies." Kael turned and began to walk away. Illidan's response had been so startling it caused Kael to consider a disturbing new possibility, that Illidan was not confident of success, which put his apparent reluctance to leave Outland and his decision not to bring his demon and fel forces to Icecrown in a new light. Postponing departure meant postponing failure; the more troops in Outland, the bigger the bulwark against Kil'jaeden's inevitable retribution.
Perhaps Astalor had been right; perhaps allying with Illidan had been a mistake.
"No, it is I who should apologize," Illidan said just before Kael reached the stairs. "I am not accustomed to being challenged. Please, stay." He sounded contrite. "I welcome your honesty, young Sunstrider. Tell me your thoughts. Ask me anything. I will answer."
Kael stopped. Illidan was currently his best—and truly, his only—chance at defeating Arthas and his undead army; there was nothing to be gained by antagonizing him. Any questions needed to be presented with finesse. "Are you delaying our departure in order to consolidate your power here?" he asked. "To ensure that the forces you inherited from Magtheridon do not turn on you in your absence?"
"Yes." The single word was toneless. "Is there anything else you wish to know?"
"Many things," Kael said, "but for now I will ask only this: Is the allegiance you exacted from Akama tied to this Temple? Is that why you are not taking the demons and fel orcs to Northrend, because you cannot? Because removing them from Outland would remove their loyalty to you?"
"You are… astute," Illidan said.
It was as close to an admission as he would give, but it also told Kael that, in order to carry out Kil'jaeden's mission in Icecrown, Illidan needed Kael as much as—or even more than—Kael needed Illidan. And with that being true, perhaps it was time that Illidan stopped treating him like a subordinate and more like an equal. "Three hundred, and then we go," Kael said. "And when we return, we move against Arthas. Agreed?"
Illidan nodded, once.
"In the interim," Kael said, feeling encouraged, "I'd like to see those alternate sources of power you mentioned. With Magtheridon defeated, such sources are now available us, are they not?"
Illidan sat very still. His blindfolded eyes were, as always, unnerving. What was it that he saw, Kael wondered. What was he thinking?
"You are not yet ready for such power," Illidan said slowly, "but, this I will do. Send me five of your ablest fighters. I will teach them to be warriors of such lethality as Azeroth has never seen."
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After asking Sarannis and Vanthryn to search for five willing to undergo Illidan's special training, Kael sat down with his advisors in an empty courtyard of the Temple to discuss preparations for the expedition to Northrend.
"Illidan has asked that we bring three hundred," Kael told them.
"Three hundred?" Lana'thel echoed.
"He's expecting that much opposition?" Panthaleon asked. "I thought all we were doing was destroying a throne?"
"The throne is a Scourge artifact," Astalor said, stroking his chin, "and the Scourge do tend to muster large numbers."
"I assume we're using the ship in Silvermoon," Lana'thel said, "but I don't see how—"
"No," Kael said. "Illidan plans a mass teleport from here… unless you tell me you'd rather spend three weeks at sea?"
Astalor and Pathaleon looked startled. "No," Pathaleon said.
"It might be best if we encourage anyone who plans to accompany us to Icecrown to stay in Silvermoon until just before our departure," Pathaleon said. "At the moment, it's difficult enough to scavenge sufficient food and water for those of us already here; to feed and shelter almost ten times as many would be nearly impossible."
"An excellent suggestion," Kael said. "I wouldn't want those who have already suffered more than a year of privation in Quel'Thalas to subject themselves to the rough conditions here."
"Ah, but you'll subject us to them?" Lana'thel teased.
"Only because I know you can handle it," he said, noting that in the shadowy courtyard, her dark auburn hair and tanned skin made the new green of her eyes look exceptionally vibrant.
"Then we may have to forbid people from joining us sooner," Astalor said. "Rommath says that the siphoning technique has made many eager to join their prince here in Outland." As always, to Kael Astalor sounded vaguely sarcastic. "I would wager that as soon as the news that you are almost ready to go after Arthas circulates, they'll be coming through the portal non-stop."
"If that is the case, " Pathaleon said, "we might want to consider establishing a more permanent settlement here instead of an encampment of tents. After all, didn't Illidan say that there are still sources of power yet to be revealed to us?"
"There does seem to be plenty of room here," Lana'thel said looking up at the dark stone walls and glancing through the doorway at the crowds of demons and fel orcs.
"Impossible," Pathaleon said. He dropped his voice to a near whisper as an Ashtongue Broken ambled through the courtyard. "Aside from the lack of fresh water, I can't imagine sleeping easily, even behind locked doors, with hundreds of those creatures milling about. I'd rather sleep naked under a meat blanket in a lynx-den."
"That's an appealing image," Lana'thel said, and they all laughed. "That does give me an idea, though," she said. "If Akama and his tribe are moving here, perhaps they would let us use the huts and caves they vacate."
Pathaleon shuddered. "No thank you. I'd rather take my chances in a lynx-den."
"Not to mention the proximity of the Expedition humans," Astalor added. It was generally agreed that the human settlement south of the Black Citadel was a remnant of the Alliance Expedition, the consortium of humans, elves, and dwarves that Khadgar had led to eliminate the orc threat nearly fifteen years before. The Expedition had been presumed lost when the Dark Portal had collapsed.
Kael sighed, "It's unfortunate. I'm certain that they'd be willing to assist us; they'd remember us as allies from the Azeroth they knew."
"Too risky," Pathaleon said. "As soon as they found out we travel to and communicate with Silvermoon, they'd want to return to Azeroth—or at least send word to their families that they're alive—and before we knew it Garithos would be charging into Outland to recapture us."
"More likely he'd order the Expedition to do to it for him," Astalor said sourly.
"So for now, we keep clear of the humans in Hellfire," Kael said.
"And the dwarves here in Shadowmoon," Astalor added. Shadowmoon Valley, the bleak fel-tinged wasteland that was home to the Black Temple, had a large dwarven stronghold near the edge of the southern precipice.
"The dwarves have treated us better than the humans," Kael said, "but I'm not ready to knock on their door and introduce ourselves just yet. Has Veras scouted the elven structures the dragonhawk riders reported?" he asked Lana'thel.
"Yes," she said. "The structures in Hellfire Peninsula and Shadowmoon are only partially built and appear to have been deserted for years; aside from some of the larger pieces of a sanctum assembly, everything of use is long gone."
"A sanctum assembly?" Astalor said. "Interesting. Telonicus and I should take a look at that."
"And the quel'dorei outpost in Terokkar?"
"Active," Lana'thel said. "Despite the architecture, it's mostly humans and dwarves. Veras said they skirmish with the local orcs and bird people."
"That settlement is mostly humans as well?" Pathaleon said. "How unfortunate."
"If we were to build a more permanent settlement here," Kael asked Pathaleon, "where would you put it?"
"Somewhere in that forest, if a suitable location is can be found."
Kael and the others nodded. "Agreed. it is not a priority, but let us consider it a long-term goal. Now, back to our immediate needs. Do we return to Silvermoon until it is time for the attack on Icecrown, or do we remain here?"
"I recommend that we stay," Astalor said. "Preferably at the abandoned site in Shadowmoon. It's close enough to the Temple for meetings with his Lordship, but far enough that we won't be under constant surveillance from the Dragonmaw or the dwarves."
"And there's room for a staging area to the west, out of sight of the dwarves," Pathaleon pointed out.
"Any objections?" Kael asked. There were none. "The sanctum site it is."
Astalor looked momentarily pleased, but quickly reined it in. "Although it's not a proper sanctum, it still needs a proper name," he said, tapping his lips thoughtfully.
Lana'thel looked up at the square of light-speckled sky visible above the courtyard, as always smiling at the sight. "Stars?"
"Sanctum of the Stars it is," Astalor said. He dusted off his hands and stood. "We have a lot of work to do! Let's get started."
"A moment, if you would?" Kael asked. He waited until the others had gone before asking, "How is he?"
"Recovered," Astalor folded his arms, "or at least recovering. Grieving and guilty that he acquired his position through Belo'vir's death, of course, but happier than he will admit to be Grand Magister."
"He's not… bored?" Kael asked carefully.
Astalor considered this for a moment. "I doubt it. There are plenty of crises in Silvermoon to keep him busy." Astalor half smiled. "He craves throwing himself against the impossible, because he usually triumphs."
"That recklessness might get him killed someday."
"True. He…" Astalor looked off into the distance. "He always thinks he's being careful," he said, his tone less hostile than it had been in many months. "He takes precautions and thinks he's in control, but whenever he underestimates whatever he's dealing with…" Astalor's voice trailed off.
"Is that what happened with Illidan? Did he underestimate the amount of power he would draw from him?"
"No," Astalor scoffed. "He was just showing off."
"Showing off? He doesn't seem the type —"
Astalor turned back to Kael. "I think I know him better than you do," he said, then began to cast a teleport. "I'll start on the sanctum construction immediately," he said as he vanished.
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The young elves were brimming with barely-controlled excitement. Kael had been told that the first two had been chosen almost immediately by Vanthryn and Sarannis from the dozens of volunteers, and that the remaining three—surprisingly enough, all from a short list of candidates compiled by Tae'thelan Bloodwatcher—had been approved after some days' discussion.
Now all five, along with Vanthryn, Sarannis, and Tae'thelan, had gathered at the Sanctum of the Stars construction site to be officially presented before departing for their training. Vanthryn had introduced Leotheras and Varedis, and now Tae'thelan was introducing the others.
"My nephew, Salandriel Sunblaze," Tae'thelan was saying. "His brother Erellion is a captain of the spellbreakers. Salandriel is hoping to follow in his footsteps."
The young elf gave a small bow.
"And finally, Toran and Nila Dawnstrike," Tae'thelan said as he motioned to the twins to step forward. "They've often told me Mehlar Dawnblade is their inspiration."
"Mehlar Dawnblade?" Kael said. A paladin of the Alliance? He gave Tae'thelan a pointed look. "You do understand that your training will be with Illidan Stormrage?" he asked the five. "A half-demon won't offer you instruction in the ways of the Light."
"My lord, we are sworn to serve Quel'Thalas and House Sunstrider in any way possible," Nila said, chin lifted resolutely.
"It is said that Lord Stormrage seeks those he can transform into fearsome warriors against the Scourge," Leotheras said. "We are honored to be among the first of those warriors."
"Very well," Kael said. "I will escort you to the Temple and introduce you to Lord Illidan myself."
"May the sun guide you," Tae'thelan said to the five, beaming. "Will they be joining the Northrend expedition?" he asked Kael, sounding both proud and worried.
"If Illidan feels they are ready when we embark."
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Normally Kael would have taken a dragonhawk and flown to Illidan's sanctuary on the Temple summit, but as there were not yet sufficient dragonhawks acclimated to accommodate the eight of them—and as Kael had no wish to leave so many hawkstriders unattended so close to the Dragonmaw fortress—he opened a portal as close to the Temple entrance as Illidan's wards would allow.
As Kael, Sarannis, Vanthryn, and the five students passed through the fel orc training area and made their way to the massive flight of stairs that led into the Temple, one of the twins wrinkled his nose.
"The smell of orc and demon," Vanthryn said. "You'll become accustomed to it, in time."
As they entered the main hall, Leotheras looked around, obviously amazed at the sheer size of the building. "How are we to find Illidan in this place?"
Kael motioned to one of Akama's Ashtongue. "You—draenei. Come here."
"Krokul," the draenei said, bowing as it approached. "I am krokul."
"I have brought these elves to be trained by Lord Illidan," Kael said.
Before Kael could say more Krokul hurried off, returning some time later with Akama.
"What is it?" Akama asked. "What do you want?"
"For you or Krokul to take us to Lord Illidan," Kael said.
Akama made a soft, sharp sound that was almost like a laugh. "Krokul? Krokul is not his name. It is the name given to my people," he said in his gravelly voice. "Come, I will take you." He turned and began to walk toward a narrow door cut into the side of a massive black stone stairway.
"I thought you were called draenei?" Varedis asked.
"We are," Akama said, leading them down a dim, airless hallway, "but even more we are krokul."
"Does that word mean anything in your language?" Toran asked.
"Broken," Akama said as he turned a corner and began to ascend a second stone staircase. "It means broken."
"Is that what you prefer to be called?" Salandriel asked. "The Broken?"
"Yes." A swathe of dull pale grey went up the center of the stairs, a path created by thousands of feet wearing away the shiny black finish that coated the width of each step.
It was not until he reached the cone of bright torchlight at the top of the stairs that Kael realized the dark coating was decades-old dried blood.
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Illidan, as he so often had been of late, sat at the edge of his terrace, staring westward over the landscape of Shadowmoon Valley at the seething green fire oozing from the volcano in the center of the plain.
"Prince Kael'thas to see you, Master," Akama announced.
Illidan waited for several beats before he turned to acknowledge them—which was fortunate, for at least two of the students seemed startled by Illidan's appearance.
"So soon? Have you gathered three hundred so soon?"
"Not yet," Kael said. "I have, however, brought you five students, as you requested."
"Five? I see seven."
"I thought he was blind?" one of the students whispered.
"Sarannis and I are royal guard," Vanthryn said.
"Ah." Illidan said. "Are these my potential initiates?" He came over to the five, leaning in close to scrutinize each in turn.
For their part they stared back, unflinching.
"They will do," Illidan said at last, turning away and walking back toward his seat at the edge of the terrace. "Take them to the training ground, Akama."
"Yes, Master."
As Varedis, Leotheras, Toran, Nila, and Salandriel headed toward the stairs, Illidan stopped and turned. "Wait… Akama, what news of the prisoner?"
"Underground, as you commanded, Master. Ground water to drink. No fresh air. Complete darkness. None speak in her presence."
"Who keeps watch?"
"Three Ashtongue below. Zandras patrols above."
Illidan nodded. "Perfect."
"There is one thing..." Akama said hesitantly.
"Oh?"
"With your permission, Master, I would retrieve the prisoner's armor and weapons, taken as trophies by the Coilfang. Dreadlord Vagath agrees that placing them within her sight—lit by a single torch, far out of her reach—would be a constant, painful reminder of her helplessness and failure."
"You say Vagath 'agrees'—this is your idea?"
"Yes, Master."
"You surprise me, Akama," Illidan chuckled. "I had no idea you were capable of such subtle cruelty. It is no wonder that the nathrezim approved." Illidan lifted his head as if listening to something, then said, "I will permit it. Return here after you have settled the trainees."
"Yes, Master." Akama bowed, then led the five elves from the terrace.
Illidan turned to Kael. "Vashj has requested to see you, and I have accepted on your behalf. Akama can guide you to her; he knows this world quite well."
"Lady Vashj is still in Outland?" Kael asked. "I have not seen her since Magtheridon's defeat, and assumed she had returned to more hospitable environs on Azeroth."
"It is true that the red desert is not to her liking," Illidan said, "but as no one understands water as well as the naga, I asked her to stay. While her Coilskar hoard and protect a small reserve here in Shadowmoon, Vashj and the majority of her forces have withdrawn to study the region known as Zangar."
"I look forward to seeing her again," Kael said.
"She also looks forward to the meeting." Illidan smiled briefly. "She is fond of you, in her way, and has more than once indicated to me that she thinks highly enough of your intelligence, magical prowess, and spirit to consider you an honorary female."
Kael smiled. "It may sound presumptuous, but I feel I understand enough of naga culture to recognize how much of a compliment that is."
"Indeed." Illidan glanced at Vanthryn and Sarannis, as though hesitant to speak in front of them. "Might I ask a favor?" He took a letter from his belt. "This contains instructions for contacting former students of mine. Perhaps one of your summoners or transmutation masters would deliver the message to them?"
"Of course," Kael said, taking the letter, mildly puzzled that Illidan did not contact the students himself; but then, he had already learned that Illidan's reasons were more likely to be convoluted than not.
"How are your people getting on?" Illidan asked suddenly. "Do they miss the forests of Quel'Thalas?"
"Some," Kael said. "Most are adjusting. A few enjoy the challenge of exploring a new world. Freywinn and Navarius are out every day cataloguing."
Illidan waved his hand and the roof of clouds above his terrace parted, revealing a huge celestial object, a blue world covered with a swirling tracery of clouds.
"What is that?" Kael asked.
"Your home, and mine," Illidan said. One clawed hand was in the air, almost as if he were reaching out to touch the blue world. "The world that has spurned us both."
"Is Azeroth truly so close?" Sarannis asked.
"Sadly, it is not," Illidan said, lowering his hand. "That is but a scryed image; the reality is much, much further away."
"Why would you want a reminder of the place that had banished you?" Vanthryn asked.
"Because… because there are still many things there I cherish."
Kael reflected that, for all that Illidan was secretive, somewhat irrational, and maddeningly condescending at times, the pervasive sadness and sense of loss that cloaked him certainly elicited sympathy.
The four of them stood silently, regarding the image of Azeroth, until Akama returned.
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Illidan, explaining that he was the only one who could override his wards, opened a portal to Zangar.
Zangar was, in every way, the opposite of Hellfire Peninsula. Bathing the eye in shades of green, blue and brown, it was a fecund garden, misty and cool, rich with sound and movement.
"Wait til Freywinn and Navarius see this place," Sarannis said. "They'll never leave."
The portal had taken them to the base of a low cliff on the shore of a sea that stretched to the horizon in front of them and to either side. All around them, myrmidons and Broken worked under the direction of naga sorceresses.
"Wait here," Akama said, then splashed through the shallows and spoke to the nearest group of naga and Broken. After a moment, the group hurried off and Akama returned to them.
"Your people are here as well as at the Temple?" Kael asked.
"These are not Ashtongue," Akama said.
At that, the nearest Broken worker glanced at them and seemed to sneer, although it was difficult to tell.
"Are the tribes that separate?"
"Some are envious of the Ashtongue, or do not approve of our new allegiances," Akama said, watching the laboring Broken with narrowed eyes.
"How many tribes of Broken are there?" Kael asked.
"Other than the Ashtongue? Greyheart, Dreghood, Murkblood, Wrekt, Wastewalkers… some others."
"So many?" Kael found his curiosity piqued.
"What tribe is that one?" Sarannis asked, indicating the Broken who had sneered.
Akama considered for a moment, then said, "Dreghood."
"Perhaps someday you will tell me more about the tribes, and about the history of your people," Kael said.
Akama turned to him and said slowly, "Perhaps. Someday."
Watching Akama shape words with his grotesque, gaping caricature of a mouth was both horrible and fascinating, and his eyes —if the glowing blue light that filled the Broken's eye sockets could be called eyes—were somehow even more unnerving than Illidan's blindfold.
"How much of the planet remains?" Sarannis asked Akama.
"More?"
"We've seen four regions—Hellfire, Shadowmoon, that forest between Hellfire and Shadowmoon, and now Zangar," Vanthryn said. "Is that all there is?"
"The rest is dangerous," Akama said.
"So there is more?" Kael asked. "Are you able to draw us a map?"
Akama used the back of his scythe to clear a space in the mossy soil, then drew a three-pronged shape. "This is Hellfire," he said, pointing at the middle peninsula, then the bottom one. "This is Shadowmoon." He pointed to the western edge of the map, opposite Hellfire. "Nagrand. Many orcs. Hostile tribes. Don't go there." He pointed to the space between Nagrand and Shadowmoon. "Terokkar. Forest and wasteland. Ruins in the wasteland. Elves in the forest."
"Yes, we've seen them," Kael said.
"The ruins are dangerous. Avoid going there." Akama pointed to the area above Nagrand. "Zangar. We are here now." He stopped speaking, as though he didn't intend to explain the rest of the map.
"And north of Zangar?" Sarannis prompted. "The last toe?"
"Toe?" Akama asked.
"The map you've drawn is shaped like an animal footprint," she said with a smile.
"Ah. I see. Toe." Akama's chest shook and he made a horrible wracking sound that Kael supposed was laughter. "North of Zangar is the territory of the ogres. Many strongholds."
"Let me guess," Vanthryn said dryly. "It's very dangerous and we shouldn't go there?"
"Yes," Akama said.
"The entire area north of Zangar is ogres?" Kael asked.
"No," Akama said, "but beyond the ogre lands are… " He seemed to search for words. "The most dangerous of all. Poisonous air and water. No one can survive there. Instant death."
"I can see why Illidan values you," Kael said. "Your knowledge is impressive. And to survive in such a hostile place—you and your people must have great tenacity."
Akama pointed. "She approaches."
Vashj, accompanied by a sorceress and surrounded by four myrmidons and several Broken, was gliding across the water toward them.
The Broken swimming after Vashj looked different than Akama; their skin was more pale violet than gray, and their faces, much less feral than Akama's, had mouths that almost hid their teeth.
"Prince Kael," Vashj said, inclining her head in graceful greeting as she and her bodyguards emerged from the water. "I am pleased to see you once again."
"And I you, Lady Vashj."
"I thought you might welcome some refreshment before we talk?"
"Thank you, that is most thoughtful."
Vashj hissed a few words to one of her Broken; he nodded, then motioned to Akama. The two dove into the water. Kael assumed they were off to retrieve Maiev's armor; Akama and Illidan hadn't mentioned her by name, but then who else would Illidan so enjoy imprisoning underground?
Vashj led Kael, Vanthryn, and Sarannis toward a stone pavilion a hundred or so paces along the shore. In the center of the pavilion was a table. On it, several pale green water-goblets made of the fluted cups of aquatic plants stood next to platters made of shiny round leaves which held roasted fish, berries, and fresh mushrooms. Kael, Vanthryn, and Sarannis, having eaten little but worm and ravager meat for weeks, devoured the repast with as much restraint as they could manage, then gratefully sipped the cool, sweet water.
"Water is the key to Outland," Vashj said. "Illidan asked me to find it. The orcs say that once there were vast seas on this planet; sadly, most were lost when the planet shattered, and even now the remainder pours daily into the void. I am attempting to save what is left, by draining what remains on the surface and storing it in caverns deep inside the planet."
"A noble task."
Vashj inclined her head to acknowledge the praise. "An overwhelming task."
"How can I help?" Kael asked.
"We naga had little need for engineers during our millennia beneath the waves," Vashj replied, "but in this situation, such knowledge might speed our efforts. Could you spare one of your experts to advise me?"
"I am certain Master Engineer Telonicus would be delighted," Kael said.
"That is most generous. In return, young Kael, I thought the stone our workers are excavating from the sea floor might be suitable for your sanctum? It is easily quarried."
"That would be very welcome," Kael said, wondering once again about the nature of the bond between Illidan and Vashj, and how many of his thoughts Illidan shared with her.
As much as Kael would have liked to stay, Akama reappeared soon after carrying the bundle of Maiev's armor, and when Vashj offered to create a portal to send them back to Shadowmoon, Kael did not refuse her.
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The next few days flew by. True to her word, wagons pulled by teams of six Broken began to bring damp, pale-gray stone blocks to the sanctum construction site. As the 'Sanctum of the Stars' neared completion, there was talk of using the excess stone for an inn.
Illidan unexpectedly appeared the day the sanctum roof was being completed, and—to the consternation of the elven architects and engineers, who had built an ingenious device for lifting the massive arcane orrey into position—offered to place it himself. Astalor somehow convinced Illidan that such a display of power would undermine Kael's authority, and the demonic night elf contented himself with supervising the operation from above.
And then, with perfect timing, Rommath arrived later that day with the news that they had their three hundred—and more—for Northrend.
"It is very odd," Rommath told Kael, Astalor, and Lana'thel that evening as they stood on the upper balcony overlooking the party celebrating the Sanctum's completion. "Sometimes I look at Illidan and feel the presence of an ancient, vastly powerful being, and at other times see an awkward, socially inept adolescent."
Astalor said, "Odd. I see only a demon who cannot be trusted."
Rommath smiled faintly, while Kael wondered if there was anyone that Astalor did trust—other than Rommath.
"Illidan has spent more than two thirds of his very long life shut away in darkness and silence," Lana'thel said. "I can't imagine how he endured it."
They all were silent after that, until Astalor said, "So, we have our three hundred?"
Kael nodded, feeling a stir of anticipation. Tomorrow, at long last, he was going take the first tangible step on the path that would lead him to vengeance against Arthas.
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.
.
The alarm came as they were setting up Vashj's camp, northeast of the towering needle of rock and ice that Illidan said contained the Frozen Throne. The scrying stones held by Vashj and her various sorceresses all trilled at once; the myrmidons off the southern coast of Northrend had sighted a ragged fleet approaching. The dragonhawk riders took to the air with the bombs Telonicus had sent to destroy enemy ships, but it would take them hours to reach the shore and determine whether the ships held friend or foe.
Kael teleported to the first of the lookout locations. The elven scouts looked surprised to see him. "Is there danger?" the spellbreaker captain asked.
"No," Kael said, "But be on your guard. At least two ships have moored along the southern shore, and I doubt they are fishermen."
The second location was similarly peaceful, and Kael was relieved.
The third lookout post was in the midst of a battle between the scouts and a dozen or so undead. Once Kael joined the fray, the Scourge were quickly dispatched.
As he was materializing on the outskirts of the fourth location, he heard someone say scornfully, "These elves are pathetic. It's no wonder we destroyed their homeland so easily."
The words twisted Kael's heart even before he saw the gruesome scene. Every one of his scouts was dead. The snow bloomed scarlet beneath their mutilated corpses, torn apart by the same hideous spider-like monstrosities that Kael had battled at Suncrown village. In their midst was an enormous, beetle-like creature.
And leading them—though Kael hardly recognized him at first—was Arthas Menethil.
Even from a distance, Kael could see how transformed the former prince of Lordaeron was. The last time Kael had seen him, seven years before, Arthas had been newly inducted as a paladin; back then, the golden-haired, ruddy-faced, swaggering young man had not been without a certain rough-hewn nobility. Now, however, Arthas barely seemed human. Gaunt, white haired, grey-skinned, his macabre armor a travesty of the holy knight he had been, it was almost impossible to believe that he was the same person. No longer a paladin, no longer a prince, he was now king of Lordaeron, and a knight of the Scourge.
And Kael'thas was without a father. Kael had worried that he would be overcome with rage when he finally encountered his hated enemy, that he would become reckless, but instead he felt calm, almost detached. "Only because I wasn't there to stop you," he said. "It's been a long time, Arthas."
A faint, yellow-green shield shimmered around Arthas as he turned. "Prince Kael'thas. I haven't seen you since…" He didn't finish; was he too recalling that day in Kael's workshop when they had faced off with broken swords? "You lead these elves?"
With dismay, Kael realized that by speaking he had lost his chance to cut Arthas down at a distance; the ward he was using was unfamiliar, but it was most likely anti-magical. Had Arthas been alone, Kael knew he could have taken him in armed combat, but surrounded by the spider monstrosities… If only Arthas had been standing further forward! Kael could have placed a barrier around the two of them to ensure that the battle was between Arthas and himself alone. "What you faced here was merely a scouting force."
"The few quel'dorei on the glacier won't fare any better," Arthas said smoothly. "Although I'm surprised that there were enough left in Quel'Thalas to mount an invasion."
So Arthas knew of their mission, it seemed. Had the Lich King sensed the danger bearing down on him and called his champion to him? Or was there a traitor in Kael's ranks?
"Yes, we survived," Kael said. "We are now sin'dorei, blood elves, and stronger than you know. The rest of us will not be as easy prey as these few you took by surprise."
"High elves, blood elves, call yourself what you will," Arthas said, taking a step forward and lifting his sword slightly, "you all will fall before the Scourge." He took another step. "However, I do appreciate that you've saved me the bother of gathering up the remainder of your people for Frostmourne to harvest; for that, I will kill you last."
Kael's hands began to shake; he gripped Felo'melorn. If only Arthas would take another step or two forward… "Defeating Lord Illidan's army will be far more difficult."
"Illidan? He's behind this invasion?" Arthas sounded surprised.
"He is. Our forces are vast, Arthas. Even now they march upon the Icecrown Glacier." For just a moment, Kael imagined what it would be like to rush in and cut Arthas down… and then he realized that attempting to do so was a mistake. If he failed—and his chances of success were slim—he would be torn apart by Arthas' minions before he could return to warn Vashj and Illidan, depriving his people of their leader just before the crucial battle.
Even Dath'remar, for all his heroism, was not foolhardy.
"You'll never make it in time to save your precious Lich King," Kael said.
Arthas' face contorted, and he swayed as if in pain.
"Consider this payment for Quel'Thalas… and other insults," Kael said, and then, as the giant beetle flared its carapace and began to charge, he teleported out.
.
By the time he returned, the floating heaters designed by Telonicus had melted an area of warm water atop the glacier for the nagas' comfort. The blood elves had retreated to a nearby ice ledge.
"He is here," Kael said once Illidan and Vashj had drawn near. "Arthas."
"Why would he be here?" Rommath asked once the turmoil had subsided.
"He knows we threaten—" someone began.
"No," Kael said, "he could not have known that. He sailed here, which means that he left—"
"—weeks ago," Astalor said. "Before Illidan received his 'mission' from Kil'jaeden."
"We only arrived here ahead of him because of Illidan's teleportation spell," Selin said.
"Could Arthas have come here to free the Lich King?" Thaladred asked Illidan. "You said that this Throne is a prison."
"He cannot free him," Illidan said, waving his hand dismissively. "The entrance to the Throne is locked, and only I know the secret of the key."
"Arthas' forces must be meager," Vashj said. "My sentries reported only two ships."
"Two ships could transport plenty," Luthion said sourly. "Some of us remember the Thalassian Gate; nearly two hundred Scourge were packed in there! Any ship bigger than a fishing boat could carry at least that many, especially if the undead were stacked in the hold like cordwood."
"But to spend a journey of weeks like that?" someone said. "It's unthinkable!"
"No it's not," Vorath said. "You are forgetting they don't need to eat, drink, sleep or even move. Luthion was right; they're firewood. An average ship could probably carry four or five hundred."
"So he could have brought almost a thousand undead?" Valanar asked.
"I didn't see nearly as many as that," Kael said. "I saw undead at only two of our camps. Less than a dozen at the first, and they were mindless undead, easily defeated. Our people there were unharmed, but they will now be watchful."
"And the other camp?" Vashj asked.
"Had fallen to Arthas himself by the time I arrived." There was a stir of dismay in the crowd as Kael sombrely named the elves slaughtered there. "In addition to two dozen undead, Arthas had bat- and insect-like creatures with him." He turned to Astalor. "We will have a full measure of revenge for the destruction of the Sanctuary."
Astalor nodded in grim satisfaction.
"You are certain it was Arthas?" Illidan asked Kael.
"I am certain."
"I am surprised that Arthas let you go," Vashj said. "He had superior numbers, and could have defeated you easily."
"He wanted a larger audience for my death," Kael said. "As I do for his."
"You said he had Insects with him?" Illidan asked. "Describe them to me." He listened, nodding, then said, "Nerubians. Many thought the survivors of the fall of Azj'Aqir vanished long ago, before the Sundering, but during my long imprisonment I heard their descendants, incessantly scratching out their cavernous burrows in the earth. Were they enscourged?"
"I do not know," Kael said. "There was a beetle-like one in their number. Three times as large as the others."
"A lord of the Spider Kingdom?" Illidan looked thoughtful. "If that is the case, it may not take Arthas as long to reach this location as it took us. If he is given safe passage through the dark, forgotten halls of Azjol-Nerub, he will be here much sooner than if he were travelling overland."
"Then let us shatter the Frozen Throne before he arrives," Kael said.
"It is not so simple, young one," Illidan said. "Kil'jaeden requires that we destroy not only the Throne but the spirit inside it as well. The Lich King himself."
"How do we do that?" Tenris asked.
Illidan hesitated.
He does not know, Kael thought with dismay.
"The Lich King has been able to control his servants in Lordaeron from atop this frozen prison," Illidan said, "a feat that required more than a modicum of power. I however, was able to strike at him with relative ease from an equally great distance."
"So he is not invincible."
Illidan nodded. "We could access the Throne and lay siege to him now," Illidan said, "but as he is aware of our presence, he is no doubt well-defended. The death of his chosen champion, however, will weaken him considerably," Illidan said, "and once Arthas is dead, the Lich King's spirit will have no place to flee."
The elves cheered and seemed ready for battle, but Kael's mind was still spinning. Why had Arthas come here if he could not open the Lich King's prison, and did not know the Lich King was to be under attack?
"Something troubles, you, young Kael?" Illidan asked quietly.
"The Lich King's prison," Kael said. "Tell me more of it."
Illidan held out his hand; in his palm was a tiny replica of the glacial crater around them. In the center was the spire of rock and ice: spaced evenly around it were four obelisks.
"At the top of the spire is the Frozen Throne," Illidan said. "The only access is through the Throne Chamber at the base of the spire."
Something began stirring in Kael's mind, a dim memory.
"To open the Throne Chamber," Illidan said, "one must have activated all four obelisks."
" 'The one who resonates with the lock is the key,' " Kael said slowly, with dawning horror. "Each obelisk must be activated by the same person; once they have activated all four, they will be able to see the entrance to the chamber and enter unharmed."
"Yes," Illidan said uncertainly. "But how do you know this?"
Kael felt ill. "Because I translated parchment fragments about those obelisks years ago," he said. "Shi lok gu'ul enkil za'ar..."
"Stop!" Illidan said. "For whom did you do these translations?"
"For the Kirin Tor archmage Kel'Thuzad, now a servant of Arthas and the Lich King."
.
Knowing that Arthas had the knowledge of how to activate the obelisks added a complication; no longer were they just focused on killing Arthas, they had to do so while also preventing him from entering the Throne Chamber and releasing the Lich King.
The discussion of how best to proceed became heated. Some felt it was best to concentrate on defending one location; others felt they should divide their forces between two or more.
"Without knowing exactly how many forces Arthas has with him," Vanthryn said, "splitting our forces between all four obelisks may stretch us too thin."
"But if he doesn't see many of us, he'll have a false sense of security," Keleseth said. "I say we we move away from that valley to the east, as he'll probably march in that way." His voice had a hint of panic.
"Move where?" Luthion asked. "Even if he does enter through the valley, there's no cover here except for that spire of rock!"
"The naga are tied to this base," Astalor said. "They're useless in this fight unless the enemy comes to them, and if they do come under heavy attack they can't retreat."
"Not true," Vashj said. "The water is pleasant, but unnecessary. We will pursue the enemy until they are defeated." She narrowed her eyes. "And know this: naga do not retreat. They fight, or they die."
Kael was horrified at her callousness.
"Their deaths will add to Arthas' forces," Andorath warned.
"Naga cannot be raised into undeath," Vashj said.
"If we let Arthas activate the eastern obelisk, he'll likely leave some forces there to defend it," Sarannis said. "Once he has led his main force south, Vanthryn and I can charge that position from the north and take it back."
"A workable plan," Vashj said. "Kael'thas, can you make the western obelisk unassailable?"
"I can."
"Then we are agreed," Illidan said. "I, with the assistance of the myrmidons and the blood elves, will hold the north."
"And I will take my sorceresses south," Vashj said firmly.
"Two thirds of my forces will go with you to the southern obelisk," Kael told Vashj. "Tenris, Andorath, Taldaram, and I will fortify the area around the western obelisk, and then join you." He saw Rommath open his mouth to protest, and said, "The remainder will go with Sarannis and Vanthryn to harry Arthas' forces, and to provide support for Illidan."
"Only four of you in the west?" Rommath asked.
"As has been pointed out," Kael said, "the western obelisk will be hidden from Arthas' sight behind the Throne. We will rejoin the forces at the southern obelisk long before Arthas catches sight of us."
"And after Arthas is defeated?" Atherann asked.
"Regroup here," Vanthryn said. He looked at Kael, and raised an eyebrow. "I've heard you gave a great speech back in Lordaeron," he murmured.
Kael smiled faintly. "Illidan is our general, not me."
"We followed you here, not Illidan," Vanthryn pointed out.
Kael nodded, then turned to the assembled elves and held up his arms for silence.
"Anyone who is afraid of the upcoming battle," he began, "afraid to die here, come forward now, and we will open a portal to Silvermoon for you."
He looked around, but saw no movement or sound other than the wind and snow.
"For those who stay… know that this day is the culmination of our vengeance. After today, you will be able to say, 'I fought in Illidan's army with Kael'thas in Northrend, the day we were revenged on Arthas.' All of us who shed blood here today in memory of the fallen will be bound together, brothers and sisters in glory; we will be celebrated in songs and tapestries, and our names will never be forgotten. We will carry forth the spirit of our people, to rise from the ashes and rebuild, and we shall not suffer the tyrant who sought to crush us to live another day!
"For Quel'Thalas!"
"For Quel'Thalas!" came the answering roar.
"Once the chamber is opened," Kael said, "we will destroy the Frozen Throne as promised."
"Then the hour has come at last," Illidan said. "After today, the Scourge will meet its end. Can you hear me out there, Arthas? Its end!"
.
As the elves divided into groups, it began to snow. Large gentle flakes at first, floating down through the calm air like tiny white feathers and flower petals, but soon a frigid wind began to blow in from the east and the snowflakes shrivelled into grains of ice that stung the skin.
Vashj, her sorceresses, and two hundred blood elves were the first to depart. Kael caught Lana'thel's eye, and she solemnly saluted him with Quel'Delar. Al'ar flew ahead of Vashj's group, melting a path southward for the naga to travel more easily, and soon even the phoenix's blaze was out of sight.
Kael went up to Astalor and Rommath. "I count on you to make sure he doesn't get too reckless," he said, addressing both of them, and then he gathered his mages and set off toward the western obelisk.
The large snowflakes returned to join the ice and wind in a near-blizzard whose swirls occasionally dropped visibility to only a few feet. Fortunately, the obelisks were connected by artificial ley-lines so strong they could be sensed through the icy surface of the glacier.
Once they arrived Kael created a shield around the obelisk, and Andorath channeled just enough to maintain it while Tenris, Taldaram, and Kael carved ice from the edges of the glacier and built bulwarks. It was slow, precise work, but it took Kael's mind off the approaching battle somewhat, took the edge off the tension of wondering when, and from which direction, Arthas would appear.
.
They had built two semi-circular, shoulder-high walls ten paces out from the obelisk and were discussing the best way to maintain the shield when, without warning, a battle was upon them.
As if blown in by the blizzard, there was an explosion of sound and movement from the south. A moment later elves began to emerge from the snowstorm, running, turning to cast a firebolt or fire a volley of arrows and then running again.
"Hurry!" Kael shouted as the faint outline of a dozen swift-moving spider-creatures emerged from the white blur. "Inside the barrier!"
A dozen or so elves ran past him. Others were not so lucky; the clanging of swords was cut short by screams and the hideous noises of the Nerubians.
Kael, unable to see any more of his people running toward him—and hating that he could not wait another instant—put up a barrier just beyond the ice-bulwark.
A slow-moving shadow emerged from the snow, and Arthas walked toward the barrier. He seemed changed even since Kael had seen him on the shore; larger, and even less human. The massive runeblade he held glowed with power, vile mist seething from it like steam.
"Get out of my way, blood elf." Even his voice was different now, oddly doubled and echoing, reverberating with malice.
"Never!"
Arthas put his gloved hand on the barrier, and then pressed the point of his runeblade against it. "Are you still upset that I stole Jaina from you, Kael?" he asked.
Kael gasped at the sudden pain in his chest; it was as if the runeblade was literally penetrating his heart. He gritted his teeth and re-focused, even as Arthas leaned upon the blade.
The shield held. Taldaram and Tenris stood next to Kael and hurled firebolt after firebolt out at the Scourge behind Arthas. This emboldened the archers and warriors who had not made it inside the barrier to flank the enemy and renew their onslaught, ensuring that the elves and naga—no, there were no naga; surely Vashj and her entire contingent could not have been slain so quickly!—still approaching from the south could box the Scourge in and attack them from all sides.
And then, just as it seemed that they would be able to prevail, something crashed into the barrier above Kael's head, startling him.
He faltered for only an instant, but it had been enough for Arthas to cross the barrier. Now inside the perimeter of ice, Arthas walked inexorably toward the shielded obelisk, where Andorath, his face a rictus of determination, continued to channel.
Kael looked up to see the batlike creature that had hit the barrier diving toward him, but an instant later, thanks to Tenris, it exploded in flame.
Kael instantly drew power from his crystals and prepared to cast a massive pyroblast at Arthas, trusting the others to keep the Scourge at bay for a few moments. "The Prince of Lordaeron had Jaina's heart," Kael said to Arthas. "Whatever you are now… she is lost to you."
Arthas stopped, turned to look at him, and held out his hand.
And now it was as if that hand was around Kael's throat, squeezing it in a grip of iron. The edges of his vision began to streak red. "After all... I don't see her here," he gasped out.
His field of vision was almost entirely black when Arthas twisted and charged him.
The pressure on this throat disappeared. He barely got Felo'melorn up in time to block the runeblade, and the two swords locked together.
This close, Arthas was truly monstrous. No trace of warmth or humanity remained; he was an utter and absolute personification of death and despair.
Arthas pressed down, using his greater weight to force Kael back, and Kael's muscles began to burn with exertion.
"You've taken everything I ever cared for, Arthas," Kael snarled. Voicing his hatred gave him a small surge of strength. "Vengeance is all I have left."
Arthas shoved him. As Kael staggered back, Arthas thrust out his arm, pointing his blade at Kael, and said, "Not everything. Not yet."
Once again Kael felt the choking grip, but this time something also took hold of his chest, his very breath, and Kael felt as though his body was being rended to shreds, to nothingness…
An instant later there was a blur of movement from Kael's right. A flash of gold and brown and silver slammed into Arthas, interrupting the spell.
Lana'thel.
Arthas, impossibly fast, whirled and slashed his blade across her throat. "Feast, Frostmourne," Arthas said, as she dropped Quel'Delar and held her hands to the bubbling wound. Arthas pointed the tip of his blade at her, drawing forth a faint blue smoke from Lana'thel's body as she slowly collapsed,.
"No!" Kael struggled to his feet, intending to charge Arthas, but just then the spider lord crashed through the bulwark. A wall of ice and snow crashed down on Kael he knew no more.
.
"The third obelisk has been activated! Only one more remains! Rise up, my warriors!"
Had someone spoken, or had he imagined it?
And the screams? Had he imagined them as well?
He was cold, and suffocating. When he opened his eyes it was to a wall of snow and ice, twilight gray only a hand's-breadth away. The only sound in the eerie silence was his shallow breathing and his slowing heartbeat. His right arm was entirely numb.
I cannot die here, he thought.
With effort he forced his left arm to move, forced his hand up in front of his face and conjured a small fireball that blasted through the snow and ice to the air.
Several minutes passed while he did nothing but breathe, his sodden, frozen robes leaching more and more heat from his body. When his shivering started to became uncontrollable and almost convulsive, he knew he had to move, or die.
Steeling himself against the pain and the creeping cold—and determined to save what magical energy he had left—he enlarged the breathing hole with his free hand, the snow searing feeling back into his numb, cramped fingers. He clawed until he made enough space to begin to begin to pull himself out. It was exhausting, but every time the urge to just give up, to give in, washed over him, he thought of his father or of Lana'thel, and became determined to go on.
We will carry forth the spirit of our people, to rise from the ashes and rebuild, he had said. He must prove that those were not empty words.
When he at last pulled himself free, he looked around. The shield was gone from the obelisk; next to it was Andorath's crumpled body, and north of the bulwark, those of Tenris and Taldaram. There was blood where Lana'thel had fallen. Staring at the stain in the snow, Kael could not shake the memory of how she'd collapsed after Arthas had slit her throat. There was no sign of her body or Quel'Delar.
"He said he'd take everything from me, and he did." Kael clenched his fists, and then turned back and began to dig frantically through the snow and chunks of ice that had buried him. "Where is it?" he asked. "It must be here! It must have been knocked from my hand when I fell!" He scattered and melted every bit of snow, but there was no sign of Felo'melorn.
Wracked with despair, he thought he once again heard the sound of distant screams. Whispering an apology to his father and Dath'remar, he abandoned his search.
.
The screams had come from the south, and so Kael went in that direction.
The snowstorm had eased somewhat, but that was no blessing, for the snowflakes that had fallen so gently and gracefully before now were now piling white shrouds on the corpses that trailed between the western and southern obelisks.
Kael hadn't realized how blindly he had been walking until he almost ran into a huddled figure walking toward him.
"Prince Kael'thas!" The elf, Theraldis, reached out and grasped the ice-caked fabric of Kael's robe. "My lord, you are frozen."
"It is nothing," Kael said, gritting his teeth. "The wind will dry it soon enough. Until then hatred will keep me warm." He shook his head. "Theraldis… you were with the group at the south obelisk. Where are the rest? What happened? Where is Vashj? Why were there no naga with the fleeing elves?"
"Just as we reached the obelisk," Theraldis said, "something huge flew overhead. It sent down a blast that froze most of us in place. Only a few managed to free themselves before the Scourge arrived."
"So all were slain?"
"No," Theraldis said. "The undead didn't attack the naga. Only us. Only elves."
"Naga are of no use to the Scourge," Kael said. "They can't be turned."
"Shouldn't we head north?" Theraldis asked. "To the meeting place at the northeast camp?"
"South," Kael said decisively. "We'll go south, see if any of the trapped naga are still alive. If Vashj is among them she can communicate with Illidan and tell him we're on the way. And there may be other elven survivors."
They had gone only a short distance when they saw a female survivor kneeling by a body. She was trying to help, bending over the body, listening for a heartbeat, and then burying her face in grief against the fallen elf's neck...
"Lana'thel?" Kael asked hopefully as he approached, recognizing the rich reddish brown color of the long braid that hung down her back.
She turned.
Her eyes were black, featureless pools, and a tracery of dark veins marred her unnaturally pale skin. Her lips glistened reddish-black with—blood?—and the gash across her throat was paralleled by another across the tops of her breasts, both oozing with what looked like tar.
As Kael watched in horror the dead elf—Keleseth—sat up. Lana'thel put her arm around him, then pulled him to her, where he pressed his mouth to her wound. She stared at Kael, parting her lips to expose sharp teeth.
"Lana'thel..." he said.
Her face contorted in anger, and then, just for a moment, her eyes were blue again, anguished blue. "Run," she pleaded, "I can't fight him. I can't hold them back."
And then her eyes were black again.
"Your blood is mine!" Keleseth said as he launched himself at Theraldis, wrestling him to the ground.
"Go!" Theraldis screamed, struggling with Keleseth. "Kael'thas! Save yourself! Hurry!"
As Keleseth tore aside the collar of Theraldis's robe and bit down on the side of his neck, Lana'thel stood, swaying slightly, and held her arms out to Kael. "Come to me, my prince… "
There was something so compelling in her voice that Kael took a step toward her. He tried to stop himself from taking another, but his body would not obey.
His foot began to lift, to take another step, when what looked like a fiery spear blazed down from the sky and hit the glacier between Kael and Lana'thel, then began to move, tracing a wall of flame around Lana'thel, Keleseth, and the now-unmoving Theraldis.
"Fool!" Kael heard someone shout. An instant later he was seized and roughly turned away from Lana'thal's hypnotic stare. "Move!"
It was Vashj. Behind her were a few dozen naga and a handful of elves; above her Al'ar hovered, drawing arabesques of flame in the frigid air with each slow wingbeat, and periodically sending a plume of fire down in front of Lana'thel.
"You must flee!" Vashj commanded, giving Kael a shake. "Before the fire dies!"
"The San'layn," Lana'thel said through the flames, "will come for you."
Vashj, Kael, and the others began to run north.
.
Vashj told Kael what she knew, and what Illidan had communicated to her.
Arthas had indeed entered the valley from the east. He had not had a thousand undead, as some had feared, but in addition to over a hundred Nerubians and several dozen undead elves and dwarves, he had had an enormous skeletal dragon. The dragon had frozen the entire northeast naga camp in a single pass, killing many elves in the advance guard. After the dragon had flown off to the south, Illidan had ordered the surviving blood elves to pursue Arthas and his forces rather than free the naga.
Vashj, assuming that the dragon was headed toward her position at the southern obelisk, had spread her forces out and prepared to attack. Unfortunately, neither the sorceresses' frostbolts nor the arrows of the archers had much effect on either the dragon, Arthas' ground forces, or Arthas himself. After Arthas had killed as many elves as he could find—as well as any naga that attacked him—he had moved on, presumably to the western obelisk. The elf mages who might have been able to free the naga from the ice were dead.
"Then how—"
"Your phoenix," Vashj said. "It is… a useful beast."
Kael looked up at Al'ar with silent thanks, then glanced back; of the elves he'd sent with Vashj, he recognized among the dozen survivors only Vorath, Veras, Zerevor, Gathios, Luthion, and Malande—and Sarannis, who he realized must have chased Arthas's forces all the way from the main camp.
Twelve alive, of two hundred. He did not have time to grieve now, but he would.
"We must hurry to Lord Illidan," Vashj said, increasing her pace. "I fear he is imperiled."
"Has he fought Arthas yet?" Kael asked.
"I do not know."
.
The first of the tremors came as they were nearing the northern obelisk. It was as if a massive creature under the glacier was stirring, trying to shake the ice off its back. An ominous crackling accompanied the cracks that appeared.
"Something… " Vashj turned at looked at the icy pinnacle.
Sarannis spied a large, dark shape in the snow. "Here!" she said, hurrying over.
It was Illidan, face down in the snow. Veras, Gathios, Kael and Malande carefully folded the tattered, stiff wings, and then turned him over.
Vashj threw back her head and gave a keening, ear-splitting cry. There were vicious gashes in Illidan's chest and abdomen, and his blood had stained the snow beneath him black. Vashj and Malande immediately began to channel healing spells, and Illidan made a soft sound.
He was alive, at least.
Vashj's sorceresses hissed, and Gathios and Veras drew their blades. "We have trouble," Veras said.
Lana'thel was walking toward them across the glacier, leading a group of their dead.
Kael glanced up at Al'ar, but before the phoenix could breathe fire, one of the undead elves gestured, and a shield shimmered into place above the group; as Al'ar's flames hit the shield, the elf—who looked like Taldaram—made another gesture, gathered the flames into a sphere, and then sent it floating toward Kael and Vashj.
"I told you," Lana'thel said as the elves scrambled to move Illidan out of the path of the flame sphere, "that the San'layn would come for you. After all, what is a Queen without her King?"
"San'layn. Does that word have meaning to you?" Vashj asked.
"In Thalassian, it means those fallen into the dark."
The glacier shuddered again, more violently. Both Kael's and Lana'thel's groups were knocked off their feet as the glacier rippled and buckled. With a rumble more felt than heard, the glacial ice broke up into rapidly-melting floes.
"We must get Lord Illidan to the portal!" Vashj said.
Kael nodded. Lana'thel pointed, and her undead pulled themselves across the ice and slipped into the water, dark forms darting through the water like sharks.
Illidan groaned as nearly a dozen elves and naga hoisted him up and began to hurry across the unstable surface of the ice in the direction of the main camp.
First one, then a dozen gray-skinned, black-clawed hands reached out of the water and began pulling themselves up.
"Go," Luthion shouted, stabbing at one of the hands with his sword. "I will keep them at bay!"
"And I!" Vorath said, tossing a dazzling volley toward the edge of the water. Atherann joined him, using his crystal-tipped mage staff like a pike in between fire blasts.
"No!" Kael shouted, but too late; in an instant the three were pulled down into the water, and surrounded by a swarm of the undead.
"Kael'thas!" Vashj hissed. "Do not waste their sacrifice! Their deaths may buy us time!"
With a snarl of grief and frustration, Kael turned from the churning water and raced after the others.
The journey to the main camp was hellish. At first the elves struggled to keep their footing on the rapidly-melting and unstable surface of the glacier while carrying Illidan, but once more open water appeared they simply sat on a floe, Illidan in the center, while the naga held the edges and sped them through the water which now surrounded the pinnacle that contained the Throne.
Kael began to worry, then, that the increasingly violent waves might have inundated the camp. Had the elves there survived Arthas, only to be drowned?
But no; at least at the moment, Northrend's hunger for life seemed to be sated. As Al'ar swooped low over the waves lapping the rock wall that had contained the immense glacier Kael saw 30 or so elves—Astalor and Rommath among them—huddled on a rock ledge, with a dozen or so myrmidons swimming below them. As the elves caught sight of the approaching ice floe Kael could read in their faces their joy at seeing survivors, and then dismay when they saw Illidan, and how few elves were returning with him.
It was the same mixture of relief and sorrow that beat in Kael's own heart, and so, when they pulled him up out of the water, prince or not, he had no hesitation about embracing them like brothers.
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~ Next chapter: Netherstorm ~
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first post 19 October 2015; rev 7 Nov 2016
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The San'layn (also known as the Darkfallen) are a small faction of vampiric undead blood elves found in Northrend. Led by Blood-Queen Lana'thel, they run the Lich King's operations in Northrend. (Keleseth and Valanar can also be found in the death knight starting area, among other places.)
Thanks to Bryn for being (once again) a terrific beta, for not cackling too much over my awful first-draft purple prose, and for allowing me to use her headcanon about the nature of Rommath's recklessness; to Mipe, for (once again) talking out various aspects of WC3 that were giving me trouble, and for reminding me of the view from Illidan's rooftop; ; to shinyforce for use of her OCs; and finally to Xeno the Pandaran Phoenix Poacher and Stinger, for their insights into Arthas. (Especially Stinger: thank you for your perspective.)
Question: Will I finally break down after this chapter is posted and read the Christie Golden Arthas novel to see if all the bits about it that I picked up over the years from wiki articles were correct? Answer: Yes, I will, I will at last!