Chapter Twenty-Four
The South Obelisk
"Figure it out," Saire muttered. She should've figured it was bad news when she was personally mentioned in a plan. As the mist cleared she wiped the sweat off her brow and sagged back against the wall to her left.
She should be thankful for small things, at least. Lokiv had said they had one fire mage, but in fact they had two. For whatever reason Tyene had decided to accompany them, and while she couldn't wield the raw power Saire managed she was much better at taking Lokiv's directions and using them to funnel her flames into minute cracks, widening them with a surprisingly small amount of mana.
As soon as Saire stepped away a team of dwarves darted forward, pickaxes, mattocks, and hammer-and-chisel put to quick work tearing at the ice she'd softened. She stepped back to let them work, and slender arms wrapped around her while a chin dropped down to rest on her shoulder.
"I didn't think I'd be wasting all my mana on this," Tyene murmured wearily. "A direct assault on the obelisk the Scourge has easiest access to sounded a lot more heroic than it's turning out to be."
"Stop," Lokiv commanded sharply behind them. Immediately the dwarven tunnelers froze, some mid-swing, while behind them the long line of soldiers packing the narrow tunnel went still, some going as far as to hold their breaths.
Saire couldn't hear or otherwise sense anything, but ten or so feet overhead undead were tramping across the ice plain, north to challenge the western obelisk and the blood elves holding it while her Prince attuned them all to the barrier. She didn't know if silence would keep their presence completely hidden, since some undead seemed able to sense the living, but the thought of being trapped down here with ghouls clawing down through the ice after them was horrifying enough for her to keep completely still. Tyene was holding her breath.
After several tense moments Lokiv nodded. The dwarves, staring back at him, got to work once more, tearing into ice and frozen earth softened and rotted by her spells. A few were shoveling it into sacks and scuttling back along the line with it to deposit behind them. Enough air trickled through from the entrance to the tunnel that they could breathe, but it felt close and stuffy, an odd sensation when it was so bitterly cold.
After a few minutes the dwarves' desperate digging began producing clangs and the screech of metal on ice hard as rock, suggesting it was their turn again. Tyene sighed and slipped forward as the dwarves retreated, and Lokiv moved forward as well, brow furrowed in concentration, to point at the weak places so the other mage could exploit them.
"Slip past them," Marbrand complained from back behind the dwarves. "All right, I understand that well enough. But even as fast as the dwarves are, and with the mages exhausting themselves in the effort, at the pace we're digging the battle will be over before we ever get anywhere close to the obelisk." Lokiv ignored the complaint, at least until Marbrand pushed past Saire to confront him directly. Then he gave Tyene some final directions and turned.
"The crevasse is only nine feet three and a half inches farther on. It angles almost due south and has multiple fractures leading in other directions. Once we get to it we'll make much better time."
"Does it go directly to the obelisk?" the scarred knight demanded.
Lokiv sighed. "You know I can't answer that." Ah yes. Saire'd been surprised to learn that the human's vaunted second sight didn't extend much farther than a mile. Before Marbrand could raise further complaints Lokiv continued. "All we need is to get past the bulk of the Scourge army. There are enough hills and ridges in the ice south of here to hide our presence as we continue on." Marbrand continued to stand there glaring, and Lokiv's eyes narrowed. "You're interfering with the work. Go rejoin the others."
After a moment's angry silence Marbrand complied. At the front of the tunnel, completely ignoring the discussion behind her, Tyene was getting to work, a small line of fire shooting from a fingertip to probe into the ice. Saire stared at the dirty ice and tried to calculate how long it would take to dig ten feet through this given their current pace.
Ten minutes, at least. She hoped the battle was going well for her people up above.
In the end it only took five minutes, because she failed to take into account how with only a few feet between them and the crevasse it was possible to punch through around the edges and then send the entire remaining sheet of ice crashing down into the depths of the crevasse.
Falstan edged forward and stared down. "Ye've got a drop o' twenny feet or so, laddie."
Lokiv didn't react to the news. "Problem?"
The dwarf grinned. "Nah. What sort o' dwarf don't carry rope with 'im? We'll have everyone down in minutes."
The human nodded. "I'll scout ahead." He stepped off the edge and drifted down into the crack in the ice, which was brighter than the tunnel had been since it opened up to the sky in a few places. Still, with the way the walls of the crevasse bulged and twisted he disappeared after only a few dozen yards.
Saire watched the dwarves set up their rope system, then allowed herself to be the first lowered into the crack, burly dwarf arms easily managing her weight. Tyene didn't bother with the ropes, instead wasting a little mana to slowfall down at Saire's side. Hiezal, who'd been at the back as a sort of rearguard in case of attack, appeared and began climbing down along the jagged ice, shunning the ropes entirely. Of the three it was a race to see who descended the quickest, one that Tyene won.
By the time Saire set foot on solid ice once more she could tell something was wrong. The crevasse should've gotten more and more narrow until they were wedged in it, but instead it ended in a flat path that was almost as wide as the tunnel they'd dug. Like the tunnel, the ice around her bore the marks of being cut and shaped, although by no tools she recognized.
"We're not alone here," Hiezal murmured, dropping to the ground beside her. He landed lightly for all that he'd fallen almost ten feet.
"Kobolds?" Tyene asked, leaning closer to inspect the markings. "We saw signs of the little rats on our way north."
"They wouldn't have dug a tunnel this wide," Hiezal said. "Little bastards keep their holes as small as possible so predators can't get at them."
The platinum blond shuddered. "What creature in its right mind would eat a kobold?"
"From what I hear you wouldn't be above it," Hiezal shot back, somewhat nastily. Still smarting about being rejected, then tattled on?
Saire ignored them and started down the tunnel, directing a globe of arcane light in front of her. She could see odd strands coating some of the walls, like spiderwebs, and dark bits and pieces frozen in the ice that looked too angular and shiny to be rock. "I think this is the work of giant spiders or some other insects," she said.
Before too long Marbrand pushed past her, and behind Blackfinger was bellowing for more haste. Now that they had an open path the burned knight wanted to make up for the time they'd wasted waiting for dwarves to tunnel. So they moved almost at a jog, following the ravine south.
She saw no sign of Lokiv as they continued on, but there were plenty more signs of whatever creature or creatures had created this path. Fragments of eggshells, a frozen egg cracked and rotten, bits of chitin. It didn't look like the sort even a giant spider would have, too thick and sturdy. Whatever it was, she wouldn't want to fight whatever was protected by such a carapace.
Before too long they reached a crack in the ravine that cut southwest. Like the one they were in, this new cut was also smoothed and carved into a path. Lokiv waited at its head, brow furrowed in concentration as he extended his second sight.
"We're not alone down here," Marbrand said as he paused beside the blindfolded human.
Lokiv turned his head to face him. "No, we're not." He started forward along the path. "Come, it's not much farther now."
The scarred knight hurried to catch up. "You're not worried that we're going to be attacked by some Light-forsaken creature down here? What made these paths anyway?"
"I recognize the cuts in the ice. They match those in the rock of the underground city Menethil led the Scourge into. The elves call the creatures nerubians."
"And do these creatures serve the Lich King?"
Lokiv paused and glanced back. "Well, we know of at least one that does. It's a bit too big for these paths, though." He paused again. "Of course, the thing's front claws did look ideal for tunneling."
"Funny," Falstan muttered from a short ways behind Saire. "Love the thought o' some big beetle catching us down here and scatterin' us like ninepins."
Lokiv broke into a trot, and for the next ten minutes there was silence. She barely noticed that the path was angling upwards until they reached the end of the crevasse, which formed a ramp up to the world above. Lokiv barely paused in running up this ramp, at least until Marbrand called after him. "Wait! Where does this come up?"
The blind human glanced back. "Exactly where it would if it was created by nerubians . . . the base of the obelisk itself."
. . . . .
The obelisk was a four-sided spire rising almost thirty feet into the air. It rested atop a stone platform that was surprisingly ornate in its austerity, with five tall, wide steps leading up to it.
Around the platform and scattered about its base were the ruins of half a dozen revenants. Flowing steel chain, plate armor, massive weapons. They looked to have been giants in life, raised in death to guard the obelisk and prevent its easy access. By the corpses of dozens of undead scattered about it was obvious they'd tried their best.
Nex was just glad it was Menethil who'd weakened his forces destroying the formidable guardians.
He turned to Marbrand, who was looking around warily. They could see signs of Scourge having marched north after taking this obelisk, the tracks splitting to angle northwest and northeast around the invisible obstacle of the barrier. "Arrange our forces defensively around the obelisk. Have Hal and the dwarves lay out any mines they may have. We'll need everything."
"Damn straight we will," Blackfinger muttered, cresting the lip of the ramp and taking his own look around.
Nex ignored the big man and turned, mounting the tall steps with effort until he stood directly before the flat-sided black stone with its surface completely covered in runes. There he paused, frowning at the feel of the Lich King's power which already permeated the obelisk and had set some of the runes to glowing a cold blue or vile green.
The big undead nerubian, that Crypt Lord who'd led Menethil beneath the mountains, must have also told the Traitor Prince how to work the attunement sorcery. There was no other way to account for the haste with which Menethil had managed to attune this pillar to the Scourge and move on. Assuming Vashj, Sunstrider, and Stormrage didn't have that advantage of familiarity, it could mean big trouble for his master's assault.
"What is it, my Lord?" Marbrand demanded. "How long will it take you to do what must be done?"
He turned. "Menethil's already attuned this obelisk to his forces. I'll need to undo his work before beginning the process of attunement for humans, elves, and naga."
"Not goblins or dwarves?" Hal demanded, not showing his usual customary grin.
"I wouldn't do it for humans, either, if I didn't want to scale the Glacier myself," Nex replied. "Do you have any idea how difficult this process is going to be?"
"So ye're ta leave us out with the Scourge all about?" Falstan demanded.
Nex turned to face the dwarf. "Are you saying you'd like to challenge the sorcery of the Frozen Throne?"
Falstan hesitated in answering, but before he could Marbrand spoke. "Enough of this. Lord Nex, get to work, the Scourge could discover our presence at any time."
"I assure you, they'll know of us the moment I begin. The longer I wait, the farther away they'll be."
The burned knight shook his head grimly. "Can't you see it? The elves have already engaged the Scourge to the west, and the naga are about to be assailed at the eastern obelisk. No, of course you can't see it, can you? Start now."
Without even responding Nex turned back to the obelisk. Behind him he heard Marbrand barking orders, arranging the elves and dwarves and setting the goblin to planting mines.
Marbrand was right, haste was needed.
It was a temptation to let Menethil's attunement of the Scourge stand and begin working on his own attunements. His fear, however, was that Menethil would be employing that very same tactic, assuming the southern obelisk his and his alone. If somehow Stormrage's forces were driven from the other three obelisks and the Scourge completed the attunement process, it might be that both sides would be attuned, but the Scourge would be in position to get to the path up Icecrown Glacier before the elves and naga could take and hold it.
If, however, all four obelisks were attuned for them, but the southern wasn't attuned for the Scourge, Menethil or one of his chief lieutenants would have to swing back down to complete the attunement process once again. If by some stroke of luck Menethil was the only one capable of such a feat it would be a tremendous delay for him, one that might secure Stormrage his victory.
So he got to work unraveling the attunement. Nerubian sorcery was completely alien to him, and the elegance of Menethil's work suggested that he had indeed been coached on how to tweak this ward. If Nex hadn't had his second sight to guide him he wouldn't have even known where to begin the process.
Even so, the strength of the nerubian sorcery made probing it with his second sight painful, like looking directly at the sun would have been had he still had eyes, although of course damaging in an entirely different way. As he pushed his sight to reveal more and more intricate details of the obelisk's secrets the pounding in his head became almost enough to knock him off-balance. He sank to his knees in spite of his best efforts, drawing on his power and desperately using it to scribe the glyphs needed to erase Menethil's work.
Thankfully the process, while excruciating, wasn't particularly power-intensive. The attunement process was obviously meant to be relatively easy for anyone who knew its secrets. Never a short process, certainly, and one that even Menethil must've spent over an hour on, but it wouldn't necessarily drain too much of his power. Which was good, because he could already sense his efforts drawing unfriendly attention.
By the time he completed this task, it was likely he'd need every bit of power remaining to him.
. . . . .
Marbrand wasn't used to forming a line to accommodate riflemen. Archers, yes, he'd worked with extensively, particularly the elves Lady Alleria had brought to Draenor. The problem was archers could angle their bows up over the heads of the soldiers in front of them, allowing him to create a solid line without worrying about fouling their line of sight.
Riflemen, unfortunately, required a direct line of sight for their guns, since the musket balls traveled faster and didn't drop as much as arrows. If they tried firing over the heads of the elves and dwarves he was forming in front of them there was no telling where the lead balls would land, or if they'd even be effective.
Thankfully there weren't that many functional rifles remaining among the dwarves. "Up on the platform?" he suggested.
Falstan appraised the situation for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, laddie. Long as our musket fire don't distract the man's work."
Lord Nex looked as if he'd turned to stone, kneeling with one palm hovering a fraction of an inch from the surface of the obelisk. "If he complains you'll just have to move." Somehow Marbrand didn't think he would, though.
Dor'ane was already getting the Corona's Blaze archers in position around the base of the obelisk, starting out covering all directions from which the Scourge could attack, but also positioned to shift quickly if the Scourge press was from a single direction.
That left, among the dwarves and the elves suited for melee combat, maybe thirty men to form his line. It would be thin, that was for sure. If the Scourge pressed from one direction it wouldn't be a problem, but if they attacked from all angles the archers and riflemen would be vulnerable.
So be it. How much time could a hundred lives buy against thousands of undead? He turned to Hal. "Mine the route to northwest and northeast along the edges of the barrier." The goblin nodded gleefully and ran off, half a dozen dwarves laden with their own weight in explosives trundling after him. "Blackfinger, set our line to the south. We'll shift it as needed once we see how the enemy arranges itself."
That left only the mages. "Ladies. Will positioning yourselves on the platform put you too far from the action?"
Saire was slumped against one of the posts marking the beginning of the stairs, and as usual the blond elf, Tyene, was draped across her in a highly unseemly fashion. Who the hell knew where the Castaway had gotten to; he always seemed to disappear before a battle, only to appear where it shouldn't be physically possible for him to be.
"We'll be fine here," the copper-haired mage answered. "Although no promises how much we'll be able to bring to this battle. I assume you want us to bolster the line wherever it's thinnest and the enemy press is most determined?"
Marbrand nodded. "If you would."
A weary nod. "We're going to spend the time before the fighting begins evocating. Don't disturb us."
He was familiar enough with mages to know this was fairly common practice with a battle eminent and their mana pool low. "I'll be sure the others know."
As he pushed through the lines of archers to form up his infantry he distracted himself with another dilemma. With the riflemen and mortar teams back there were twenty or so dwarves wielding their hammers and axes, and luckily most also wielded small steel-capped roundshields. The elves were mostly Spell Breakers in their heavy armor with massive tower shields and warglaives, although a few wielded light weapons and armor of a make he didn't recognize, although it was decidedly elvish.
In most cases he'd put the heaviest soldiers, the Spell Breakers, in the center, the most crucial spot, and arrange the others out according to armor type. But with so few soldiers going against an enemy that massively outnumbered them flanking was a dire risk, and if the sides crumbled the center would be an island in the storm. So he divided the Spell breakers and set them at either end of the line, with the lightly armored elves beside them and the dwarves making up the center.
Perhaps what that sturdy folk lacked in armor they'd make up for in stoutness. He could only hope, or the center would fail and the archers would be helpless.
Just as he finished setting the line, lamenting its thinness and how much space lay between either end and where the barrier began, space only thinly warded by mines, he heard a shout from Blackfinger. Looking up at his friend's pointing finger, he saw a dark speck in the distance approaching. A gargoyle, pebbled stony skin glinting dully in the sunlight and heavy wings flapping hard. It swiftly approached and circled once. A few elves loosed arrows at it, including Hardal himself, but the creature was high enough to evade them. It gave a mocking screech and shot like an arrow northeast, to where the fighting undead and naga made a smudge on the landscape.
"That's it, then!" Blackfinger roared. "We'll have company soon!"
Yes, too soon. Marbrand unslung his shield and began testing the ties on his armor, more from habit than out of any desire to be prepared.
It would be over soon.
. . . . .
With a dull pulse the last of the Scourge-tainted runes winked out, reverting to their previous form, and Nex sagged back, panting and finally letting his weary arm sink to his side. In spite of the weariness, and the knowledge of how much still remained to be done, he allowed himself to smile.
With Menethil's work unraveled, he could finally begin his own attunements.
One benefit of that task, and one he was unduly grateful for, was that in working to undo an established pattern of runes he could see how nerubians managed the process. It would speed his efforts. Now, the only question was who to begin with. Elves would be the obvious choice, to allow Stormrage and Sunstrider access to the Glacier as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately the attunement had one unexpected component: familiarity with the racial traits of those he wished to attune. And not just easy things either, but a deep and thorough understanding of the creature at a level far, far smaller than the sharpest eye could discern.
That was a very, very big problem when it came to the naga, since he obviously didn't have one of those handy to inspect. He immediately held his hand out in front of him and set his second sight to searching deep within his own body, plumbing secrets he'd never bothered to explore with his second sight earlier. Even as he did so he spoke, loud enough to be heard with the nearest person over twenty feet away. "Fetch me an elf."
The dwarf rifleman turned, frowning. "What was tha', laddie? An elf? Which one did ye want?"
"It doesn't matter, just bring me an elf."
The dwarf shrugged. "If it'll help ye go faster, right ye are. Just thought ye should know, since Marbrand said ye couldn't see far, gargoyle's're circling overhead. Part o' the Scourge force pushing tae the northeast're swinging back around, skellingtons 'n ghouls mainly."
"You'd best hurry with that elf, then." Nex turned back to the obelisk, frowning. He'd best start with human, since it was the only information he had handy and there was no telling how long he'd have.
Naga he might or might not figure out, but whatever else he managed he didn't intend to miss watching Stormrage shatter the Frozen Throne.
. . . . .
Saire was jolted out of her trance, eyes opening wide then narrowing in annoyance, as a dwarf caught her sleeve and began tugging. "What?" she hissed. At her side, one hand resting on her thigh, Tyene didn't stir from her own evocation.
The dwarf tugged on his hood sheepishly. "Beggin' yer pardon, miss. The human, Nex, 'e wants an elf."
What, now he changes his mind? Couldn't have picked a worse time either. With a sigh she stood, checking her mana pool. Being interrupted hadn't done her any favors, but she had enough to be useful, at least. If only she'd thought to prepare a mana gem last night.
Lokiv remained where he was at the obelisk, muscles so tense his body was perfectly rigid. The only change from when she'd last looked was that it was his left hand hovering just above the runed stone rather than his right. "You picked a bad time to get randy, human."
He didn't stir. "A closer inspection of your attributes is required for the attunement process."
Oh, like she hadn't heard that before. "You need me to disrobe?"
"Right now I need nothing from you. Remain close by, it'll be another ten minutes."
Close by. Sighing, she sank to a crouch and looked up at the gargoyles that were now circling high overhead, harsh, taunting cries drifting down to her ears. None had tried to attack yet, and likely they wouldn't until the archers were distracted; whatever indigenous Northrend species the Lich King had twisted gargoyles from, the things were still alive. And they weren't stupid.
She turned her eyes to the cluster of skeletons and ghouls approaching from the northeast. Marbrand had already shifted his line to prepare to meet them, and it looked pathetically small compared to the swarm of undead approaching.
Hmm. Decisions, decisions. Start picking off the gargoyles, assuming she could manage any greater accuracy with her spells than the archers, or save her spells to blast the approaching undead. In the end it probably didn't matter, since any use she put her spells to would prove beneficial. She made her decision based on how fun it would be to watch dozens of zombies burn, as opposed to the hassle of trying to swat gargoyles like flies. Now she just had to worry about Hiezal, that sneaky ass. If he was skulking around in the middle of the Scourge ranks she might burn him to a crisp without realizing. She was surprised to realize that the thought horrified her.
What a pain. The only way to ease her fears was to find him and keep an eye on him so she didn't accidentally kill him. It would be pointless to make it out of here alive if he didn't.
Her wandering gaze snagged on the ramp they'd come up from inside the crevasse. Movement there, Hiezal maybe?
She didn't see anything now, but unease suddenly filled her. There was Marbrand, shifting everyone to meet the Scourge threat from the northeast, effectively putting their backs to a tunnel that had been carved by nerubians. Creatures which she'd seen with her own eyes were helping the Scourge.
There was no need for concern, though, was there? If enemies were approaching from underground Lokiv would sense them with his second sight, like he had those landmines.
Unless, of course, he was currently putting all his concentration towards something else.
She ran to the edge of the platform. "Marbrand!" she screamed. The knight turned to look at her, and she pointed. "Nobody's watching the ramp!"
Marbrand cursed, whatever he said unheard at this distance, and began pushing around the ranks of archers for a closer look at the threat.
He hadn't gone more than a dozen feet, jogging across a clear area to the south of their lines, when one of the northwest landmines detonated, shaking the ground under her feet.
Nothing had set it off.
Another detonated, and then Marbrand shouted in alarm, and she turned in time to see the burned knight disappear down a hole that appeared suddenly under his feet.
Creatures were skittering up the ramp in a black wave, something between beetles and spiders. There was something disjointed about the way they moved, made all the more horrifying by their sheer size, and Saire was seized by emotions halfway between revulsion and stark terror.
Screaming, she stretched out her hand and began to cast.
. . . . .
Marbrand slammed against the side of the hole, pinned to the ice by a shockingly powerful forelimb. Beneath him his booted foot was sunk halfway into a spider-like maw, and the creature was hissing as it tried to bite through the thick steel of his greaves. He kicked at a cluster of compound eyes with his free leg, and the thing hissed and let him yank his leg free. It also let him go, and with a shout he found himself falling atop the monstrosity.
He did his best to lead with his shield, slamming the sturdy wood into two thick mandibles that were snapping around to close on his head. He caught one and shoved it away, and the other must've been connected because it stopped inches from his face, dripping some sort of venom.
Light renewing, had he slammed his head on something and fallen unconscious into a nightmare?
Still hissing, the creature shifted, snapping its head around, and Marbrand was flung away to slam into the wall again. He landed on a sloping surface, a tunnel leading back into blackness, with the insectine creature that had set this ambush looming over him. Light was pouring in dimly from overhead, filtering around his assailant and making its black carapace glisten.
Bellowing, Marbrand raised his shield overhead, just in time to catch the descending forelimb with its wickedly barbed point. The weight of the blow slammed him into the ground, nearly breaking his arm and flattening his shield against his chest and face, but as the blow rebounding he managed to shove the limb away. In a surge he rolled up against another leg, firmly planted in the ice, and as the creature reared, lifting it away, he came to his knees and yanked his sword free.
The maw descending once more toward his unprotected head speared itself on his ugly broadsword, and he shoved off, pushing the point in deeper. The insect made a gurgling liquid sound and snapped its head around, and Marbrand found himself slamming into the icy wall of the tunnel again. Stars flashed across his vision, momentarily blinding him to the horrifying sight; he didn't know how he was still conscious.
In a frantic scramble he managed to slide himself under the creature to its segmented hind end. The insect, still hissing in pain and rage, was too big to turn around. It tried to skitter backwards, but Marbrand planted his feet against its hind legs and locked them. It didn't stop the thing, of course, but as it went back so did he. With another bellow he began hammering at the thing's softer underbody with his sword, lifting his shield as viscous ichor began spraying down.
The thing bellowed again and jerked, so powerfully that he was flung sliding down the tunnel. He hit a snag and began rolling, and when he stopped he saw the thing pulling itself out of the hole it had made. Probably so it could turn around and come at him head-on again.
Like hell he was going to let it.
Shoving to his feet, he scrambled up the slippery slope, chopping his sword into the ice for purchase whenever he started to slide back. He reached the bottom of the ambushing hole in time to see the insect hiss and skitter away, arrows peppering its head. The ice and snow that had crumbled away when the thing pulled him down had formed a sort of pile at one end, and he scrambled up it as best he could and pulled himself out of the hole.
Chaos reigned around him. To the northwest he could see a firestorm where the ramp leading up out of the crevassed had been. A few more of the insect creatures were skittering through the flames, blind and directionless, while others unable to escape the flames had fallen still, curling up with their legs beneath them like dead spiders.
The flames hadn't been quite quick enough, though. Half a dozen of the things were tearing through the ranks of archers, while his line of melee troops was trying to push through to help. Meanwhile the swarm of skeletons and ghouls had struck from the back, a few dozen going over the mines and annihilating themselves in an attempt to flank.
In short the line and the archers were tangled together, trying to meet threats from both sides. To make it even better the gargoyles had decided to attack. Many were remaining fairly high up, loosing arcing blasts of green energy that rippled through the ranks and sent his soldiers screaming in pain and dazed confusion. Some were swooping down and raking at people as they passed, but others had elected to try to pick up their victims, usually elves, and with wings flapping heavily fly them up high enough for the drop to be fatal. The few archers who were free and had the presence of mind were trying to shoot these down before the succeeded, but the only truly free ranged soldiers were the riflemen on the platform, and their focus was all on keeping a swarm of flanking geists from Lord Nex's unprotected back.
Marbrand assessed the situation in mere moments, then he was spinning, searching for the creature that had attacked him. He found it a dozen feet away, frothing in rage. Rather than attacking, it was doing something odd with its forelimbs. It took Marbrand a moment to realize it was reaching into some cavity in its chest and scooping out little swarming insects, which it sent skittering at the nearest elves. One Spell Breaker was already on the ground, thrashing and screaming as the vicious bugs burrowed through joints in his armor to the soft flesh beneath.
The sight terrified him, but at the same time Marbrand felt more confident now that he was out of the hole and free to move. He slipped around to come at the thing from the side, hopefully out of its vision, and then charged, sword raised. He reached the creature's back right leg and hacked down at the top joint, and to his relief the solid blow tore right through, cutting the limb away clean. More ichor sprayed his face and chest, but he ignored the disgusting stink and feel and bulled forward, throwing his weight against the thing's body.
By luck or chance or instinct it was the right choice. The giant insect, surprised and in pain at the loss of its leg, jerked sideways off-balance, and when he slammed into it he knocked it off its feet and onto its back. Dodging through the desperately kicking legs he ran up its shelled body until he reached that cavity it was pulling those horrible bugs out of. He dropped, sword leading, and slammed the point right into that cavity with all his weight behind it. For a moment he felt resistance, and then the ugly blade was sinking deeper and deeper, until his chest was resting on the insect's carapace.
The thing convulsed horribly with a hissing shriek, and he allowed the movement to fling him aside. Only one of those ravenous bugs had crawled on him, and he managed to smash it with the back of his gauntlet. Then, moving warily, he approached the dying thing. Bugs were skittering away from it in all directions, no longer seeming hostile. Almost as if its will had directed them in their voracious attack.
Who knew, maybe it had. A few of those bugs skittered right past him without paying him any mind. Just to be safe he stomped on all the ones that came near him, finding it surprisingly satisfying to feel them cruching under his booted foot.
He managed to retrieve his sword, and spent a moment staring into the cavity he'd stabbed into. It was hollowed out, but if this bug was anything like smaller ones this had to be where all its most important organs should've been. Undead? If this was one of those nerubians Nex had spoken of, then it did indeed seem the Lich King had raised them to his service.
Which begged the question of how he'd managed to kill an undead bug by stabbing into it. Perhaps unlike other undead, this thing had a source of its animation, which his blow had managed to destroy. It would be best to tell the others of the weakness.
Turning his back on the thing, he staggered toward the chaos that was the battlefield.
. . . . .
Snarling, Saire loosed a searing blast of flames right into the face of the gargoyle that had swooped down at her, either to pick her up or to claw at her as it flew past. Shrieking, the thing veered away to slam into the obelisk, mane aflame and limbs kicking desperately. Its falling body nearly struck Lokiv before it caught itself and flapped heavily into the air once more.
Saire sank to one knee, staring at the human. This battle wouldn't be nearly the disaster it was if he was part of it. How close was he to being finished? Could they afford to wait until he was? It was a temptation to say to hell with his attunement and call him to the battle.
Before she could decide one way or another Lokiv stirred, then without turning his head reached an arm back behind him and beckoned to her. She tottered over. "Finished?"
"Hardly." He leaned out and caught her clothing, dragging her closer, and his hand encircled her wrist. "This shouldn't take long. Feel free to continue keeping both of us alive."
"What are you doing?"
"Exploring the building blocks that make up the smallest parts of your being."
Damn, now didn't that make her jealous. He was learning things she hadn't even contemplated, and here she was throwing fireballs at gargoyles.
Speaking of which . . .
. . . . .
"That hole in their chest where they're pulling out all the bugs!" Marbrand shouted through the din. "If a sword thrust can do it, an arrow can too!"
Dor'ane nodded dubiously and turned away, shouting orders. Marbrand staggered forward toward the tangled mess of a line holding off the skeletons and ghouls from the northeast. Nerubians were popping out of the ground everywhere he looked, but that mass of undead was the greater threat should the line fail.
He arrived at Falstan's side in time to catch the dwarf as he staggered back. He fell into a crouch, slamming his shield out to knock a skeleton back, and lowered the dwarf to the ground.
Falstan waved him away irritably. "'m all right, laddie. Just need a moment."
Marbrand drew his sword in a ringing arc that chopped away a ghoul's clawed hand. It didn't slow the thing in the slightest, so he got his shield between them and surged to his feet, shoving the undead back. "Where's Blackfinger?" he demanded, standing protectively over Falstan as the dwarf struggled to regain his feet.
"Somewhere in there."
Marbrand glanced at the press of undead surging inward rather than overwhelming their line and saw Blackfinger's tall, armored form at its center, holding their attention.
Seemed like a good place to be. Catching a charging skeleton with his sword and sending it flying away, then slicing the head clean off a ghoul on the backswing, Marbrand set his shield and waded into the fray to join his friend.
. . . . .
Saire's flamestrike on the ramp had faded, and now the nerubians were pouring up from it once again. She didn't have time to direct another spell that way, much as it would've helped; the crush of undead from one side and nerubians from the other was pushing everyone back to the platform, a jumbled clump of elves and dwarves fighting desperately to stay alive. Using muskets or bows would've been madness in that press, so they'd been flung aside in favor of melee weapons. Most of the archers bore only a short sword or mace, a few handaxes, and the weapons were proving insufficient.
Saire had another problem. A nerubian unlike the others had pushed clear of the ramp. Smaller, but iridescent blue rather than the black of its companions, its forelimbs twitched in weird, vile magics, like a puppeteer performing a show. And like puppets, the slain were rising to its will, turning on their former allies. The thing was moving towards the platform, protected by its escort of reanimated corpses.
A quick glance at Tyene showed the platinum blonde was occupied with sniping gargoyles out of the air, and a good thing too because their attacks on Lokiv had become almost frantic. As for Lokiv himself, he'd sunk to a slouched sitting position, head resting against the obelisk.
Damnit. This was what they were here for, wasn't it? Keep him alive long enough to attune them. The only way any of them were coming out of this was if Lord Illidan managed to get to the Frozen Throne and destroy it, destroying the Scourge in the process.
She turned to the nerubian necromancer, fingers dancing as she chanted the matrix for a pyroblast spell. Halfway through casting the blue insect's twitching arms paused for a moment, and suddenly Saire's tongue felt like it was on fire. She gagged, spat, and gasped in horror when she saw her spit was a vile greenish hue. She gagged again, chewing on her tongue to stop the agony, but before she could do any more she felt a familiar power washing over her, and the vile spell that had silenced her was dispelled.
Lokiv strode by her, raising a hand. The animated dead who'd gained the platform flew away, burning and twitching. The nerubian necromancer paused on the bottom step, and power pulsed from it to wash over the human. Lokiv shrugged the attack aside almost contemptuously, and a moment later the nerubian went stiff, limbs twitching spastically, then fell perfectly still.
Ignoring the fighting all around them Lokiv continued forward to stand directly before the nerubian. "You don't have the power to reattune this obelisk," he said. "Who comes?"
The necromancer hissed. It took Saire a moment to realize it was laughing. "You'll not hold me long like this, human," it said, voice deep and sepulchral. "All is futile. If the fiends of the crypt do not sweep you away then comes the crypt's lord. Anub'arak was the champion of Zish'athal in life, and in death he wields powers you cannot imagine."
"By the time he arrives you'll all be dead. Does your lord have the power to challenge an army?"
More hissing laughter. "Fool. You will not so much as pierce his carapace. The Master will mount the steps to the Frozen Throne before an hour has passed."
Lokiv shrugged and reached out. "Weapon," he snapped.
Saire gave a start, realizing she was the only one paying attention. After a moment of fumbling she pulled her belt knife free and handed it to him hilt first. The nerubian began hissing, limbs twitching as it strained against whatever hold Lokiv had over it. It came free with a snarl, forelimbs sweeping out, just in time for the human to leap over them and slam the tiny blade into the center the necromancer's head, just above its eyes. The knife shattered, tip lodged into the creature's carapace, and hovering for a moment Lokiv reached out and pressed a finger to the shard of metal. In a flash it glowed white-hot, and the nerubian fell back, convulsed with its legs flailing, and then fell still.
The human landed lightly and turned to face her. "You owe me a knife," she said. It sounded somewhat feeble after what she'd just witnessed.
Lokiv raised a hand, and from the center of the knot of undead the ground exploded into fiery debris. After casting the spell he sagged. "The attunement is finished."
Saire wasn't sure what to say to that. "Oh, that's good."
"We need to finish up here and leave. Save your mana, Saire, you're making a portal."
She blinked. "A portal? To where?"
"To wherever. Stormwind, Dalaran, any juncture of the ley lines in Eastern Kingdoms you can manage. It's time to leave."
"But what about this Crypt Lord that's coming? Lord Illidan will fail if he manages to undo what you've done."
Loki smiled bitterly. "Perhaps he will. Either way, I suggest we be gone before Anub'arak arrives. The attunement proved more costly than I'd expected. I don't have the power to fight him." The human cocked his head. "Do you?"
Saire looked around. "Can we even destroy the enemy that's attacking us now?"
"If we had time. I'd start preparing that portal."
As if to reinforce his words, the ground suddenly shuddered beneath them. Saire snapped her head around in time to see the ramp leading into the crevasse collapsing. Cracks were appearing in the ice farther down the crack, and even as she watched the ice there shattered into chunks which flew every which way. Jutting from the cracks like a dagger from the underworld was a single spined limb, similar to the forelimbs of the nerubians but twice as large.
At her side, Lokiv cursed.