Chapter 36: Twilight of the Gods, part 4
The silence that permeated their surroundings was both comforting and chilling for Torgall. He welcomed the serenity that it provided - it gave him clarity of thought, and reassured him that the stillness would be shattered at the slightest sound of an approach, which would give them ample time to prepare. At the same time, he found the complete lack of noise - wildlife, battlecries or otherwise - to be not a little bit ominous. It was as though someone or something had extinguished all life.
As it was, the only sounds that they heard was their own breathing, the crunching of leaves when one of them would move about restlessly, or the low growls from Bristlefur. The tense environment did not help - they were already anxious enough as it was, knowing that the Scourge would surely move on their position soon.
"How is he?" Torgall asked finally, deciding to break the silence at last; he doubt he could have waited any longer, anyway - the terseness of the group was so thick he felt he could cut it with his axe. Valnok glanced up at him, then looked back at the wound and gave a small sigh.
"The bleeding has been stemmed, so he's in no danger of blood loss," he said, taking off his helmet and running his thick fingers through his hair - Torgall realized it was the first time he had seen the other orc without his helmet on, and that the rough hair was dark and black, not unlike his own, save the greying streaks he himself posessed.
"But?" he asked - there was always a 'but'. Valnok gave a second sigh.
"There's no telling what degree of infection there might be," he said heavily, "not without taking off the bandages and risking re-opening the wound. The longer it stays open, the longer we have to remain put."
"You don't mean-" Torgall started, but Valnok cut him off.
"No, not the plague," he said quickly, "as far as we know, gargoyles can't spread it... so there shouldn't be anything to fear. No, I mean regular infections. There could be any number of diseases on those talons, festering away..." He gave a low growl, gripping his spear tightly. "They'll pay if it turns out to be serious..."
"There'll be plenty of time to mete out revenge," Torgall said placatingly, "but for now, I think we should focus on our own survival."
Valnok growled again, but nodded grudgingly. Once more they lapsed into silence broken by an occasional movement or grunt on their part. If only to give himself something to do, Torgall picked up the whetstone that Valnok had been using earlier, sharpening his axe without paying much attention to what he was doing. Torgus was standing nearby, straight-backed and rigid, his maul slung over his back and his grey hair fluttering slightly as a mild breeze blew through their small clearing. Greshka, meanwhile, was crouched low and seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, though her ears were perked attentively.
As Torgall continued to run the whetstone along the blade of his axe, he wondered what was happening at the Alliance's base. Had the Scourge and Legion triumphed over their defenses yet? Had Lucethious and Yulgash survived? And what of Sapph - had she assisted in the defense, or was she still prowling the forests like she said she would? Almost instinctively, his fingers went to the golden chain she had given him earlier. The metal still felt cold against his skin, though he had long since learnt to ignore it. He wondered if it would truly work, and had even contemplated discarding it at one point - but what would be the gain in that, he had asked himself. Sapph had remained true to them thus far, and he firmly doubted she would fail them at such a crucial juncture.
Abruptly, Greshka muttered quietly, "They're coming."
They all looked up warily. She was staring pointedly at a rock, though her eyes were slightly unfocused, as if she were dazed. After several moments of silence, she looked up and saw them all staring at her, and started slightly - apparently she was unaware that she had even said anything at all.
"How far do you think they are?" Valnok asked.
She stared at him, as though contemplating the question, before saying finally, "Still a fair distance away. I can smell them more than I can hear them, at least."
They exchanged half-anxious, half-doubtful looks, but reminded themselves that both Greshka's senses and instincts were far more acute than theirs, and were rarely wrong.
"Guess we'd better make ready, then," Torgus said gruffly, speaking for the first time since their arrival, unslinging his maul and swinging it around threateningly. They each nodded in agreement, preparing their own weapons - it was time to make a stand.
Yulgash gasped as conciousness returned to him. He struggled briefly, his last memories being of Anetheron's leering demonic visage looming towards him and magical bonds constraining his movements. As he realized his arms and legs were no longer bound, he relaxed momentarily, until he opened his eyes.
He gasped a second time and shut them tight.
They could not block out what he had seen - a chaotic swirl of colour and chaos. Even with his lids tightly shut, light assailed him, bombarding his senses and sending them into overdrive. He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the intense glare, but to no avail; bracing himself for the inevitable, he slowly opened his eyes again.
The sight was unimaginable. It was real but not. It was here and there. It was immeasureable and immaculate. Half in awe, half filled with dread, he slowly got to his feet, drinking in his surroundings. Darkness pressed him from all sides while flashes and streaks of light threatened to blind him. He felt as if he were standing and floating simultaneously; he looked down and saw his feet disappeared into a thick sheet of darkness that stretched to his ankles. His hair felt on end and his skin prickled very slightly; the air was charged with magical energy, not unlike atop Hyjal. The sound of his breathing wavered sporadically; at some points his breath came out in echoing gasps, drifting away into the abyss, and at others they were muffled, quickly stifled as soon as they left his mouth. Above him, glowing streams of energy, the colour of a fel green hue, lazily trailed across what barely passed for a star-specked sky, and in the distance he could see the vague shape of a planet - or was it a moon? Perhaps it was an enormous infernal - he could not tell...
As Yulgash began to calm and get used to his surroundings, he realized without effort where he was. The answer rose to his lips without a second thought.
"The Twisting Nether," he whispered to himself, still filled with both awe and dread. It seemed that Anetheron's spell had been successful - or at least partly successful. This area of the Nether was not teeming with countless hordes of demons. From what little information he had gleaned in his time at Dalaran, Yulgash had learnt that there were various planes of the Nether, and that each had various aspects. Some were conquerd by the demons, others were utterly devoid of anything. Some had laws of physics and time that did not function properly; judging by his current location, he surmised that Lucethious and Belpep's counterspell had partially worked. While he was in the Twisting Nether, he had at least been shunted to a less dangerous plane.
The thought of two companions suddenly sent Yulgash into full alert. He quickly spun about on the spot, trying and failing to see if they had been dragged along with him.
"Lucethious?!" he called out, slightly panicked. The last few syllables rang out and echoed into the distance, leaving a fading repeat of, "ethious, ethious, ethious..." in the chaotic darkness.
"Belpep?!"
Again, his voice was warped and echoed; the sound faded into the distance, then suddenly rung out about him, then faded once more. Squinting, Yulgash summoned his energy within himself, trying to magically enhance his senses. He was succeeded, if only somewhat: in the distance - or perhaps it was mere feet before him, the chaos of the Nether played tricks on his perception - he could see two indistinct blurs. One seemed fairly long, the other quite small. He knew immdiately who they were.
"Lucethious... Belpep..." he muttered as he approached them, half-running and half-swimming in the confusing plane of existence, and then falling to his knees to observe them more closely; both were breathing, at least. Lucethious, however, appeared worryingly pale, and his eyes were closed - he was clearly unconcious. Belpep's eyes were also closed, and his flames seemed to have dimmed slightly, but as Yulgash cautiously reached out towards him, his eyes suddenly snapped open and he leapt to his feet.
"Ack! What, where, how-?!" he chirruped, looking about wildly. "Oh... the Twisting Nether... back home, I guess." He continued to look about, and he caught sight of Yulgash. "Ah, you're here too. I'm guessing that means this isn't a holiday trip?"
"We need to get out of here. Now," Yulgash said without preamble. "Do you know what's wrong with Lucethious?"
Belpep skipped up to the elf, frowning slightly. He mumbled something in demonic, cast a few minor spells, and then felt various parts of the body.
"Magically induced coma," he proclaimed after a minute. "The sleep spell Anetheron had placed on him reacted badly with the teleport counterspell; had it succeeded, all of the energy sustaining the portal would have dissipated harmlessly. Something in him triggered an unstable reaction, however, and instead he acted like a conduit - all of the energy has been funnelled into him, and it's suppressing his conciousness. I doubt he's aware of where he is - if he's aware at all. I expect that he's awake, but at a very deep, very subconcious level."
"Meaning... what?" Yulgash asked blankly - Belpep had run through that explanation at top-speed, his impish demeanour not allowing room for a steady breakdown of the situation.
"Meaning that we need to find some way to get that magic out of him," he said simply. "If we can dispel all of that pent-up energy, it should stop suppressing his mind and wake him up. Or it will kill him," he added with a shrug.
"Brilliant," groaned Yulgash, sitting down in the darkness, only to find himself floating helplessly; he sought even footing, but only succeeded in treading water in mid-air. He grunted angrily - the awkward physics were beginning to annoy him.
"Is there any way to get out of here?" he asked, fruitlessly swatting a hand to the side as he attempted to find any form of solidity.
"Best bet is to open a portal back to Azeroth," the imp replied simply with a second shrug. "Only thing is, you don't know where you'll end up without an anchor."
"Come again?"
"The Nether is goverened by chaotic forces - pretty much anything is possible here. Opening a portal is but a trivial task. Azeroth is a world controlled by laws - everything has a set place. Careful, concentrated manipulation is required to have any effect on the world. You could open a portal on this end with ease, but there's no guarantee where you'll end up on Azeroth - you could land in a city, or you could find yourself at the bottom of the sea."
"But I summoned you easily enough-" Yulgash began.
"-by opening a stabilized portal on Azeroth," Belpep cut him off. "Same as how Anetheron sent us here - he opened a stable portal to the Nether on Azeroth. Except with mine and Lucethious' intervention, we managed to alter the destination. Of course, if the counterspell hadn't been compromised by Anetheron's work, we would have cancelled the portal altogether."
"Okay, this is an interesting lesson about portals and everything, but it's not getting us back to Azeroth," Yulgash interjected. "You said we need an anchor - I assume that means a portal on Azeroth?"
"It could be. Or you could use sympathetic resonance - you seem to be pretty good at that," suggested Belpep. Yulgash opened his mouth to respond, but stopped, thinking. The imp's words rung true - he could use sympathetic resonance to get them to safety, assuming that Hyjal was any safer than their current predicament.
All the same - what other choice did he have?
"All right... I'll give it a shot," he said. Belpep gave a non-committal squeak and settled himself down to watch.
Yulgash paused, wondering how to begin. He thought about Belpep's explanation that the Nether was chaotic, and decided on a simple approach. He raised his hands, summoning his energy and reached out - here, he did not have his magical aids or reagents, but he knew he wouldn't need them. How he knew, he could not tell.
As he reached forth, his hands glowed a bright purple, not unlike a summoning portal. Abruptly he felt a very slight resistance, as though there were a veil before him. Realizing what needed to be done, he tore at the veil, pulling it aside like it were a curtain. Before him was a shimmering wall of sparkling energies, awaiting his command and manipulation to form a portal to Azeroth.
"So..." he said, matter-of-factly, pleased with his success. "Let's see if this works..."
"They're getting close now," Greshka said. They each gave her a half-glance, though none of them doubted her instincts now - they could smell the stench of rotting flesh carried on the wind. They were standing in a diamond formation, each at a separate point: Greshka stood with her bow in one hand, an arrow half-nocked; Torgall was in a tense battle stance, his axe at the ready; Torgus stood with the confidence of a veteran warrior, maul raised in defiance; and Valnok stood defensively before Bristlefur, his spear held aloft protectively over his loyal mount.
They had already skirmished with a few gargoyles, which had joined their earlier brethren and had been pushed untidily into a gap in the trees that was wider than others - they hoped that the corpses might briefly stem the incoming attackers. It was this makeshift barricade that Greshka was eyeing carefully.
A rustling caught their attention, and they tensed briefly, awaiting the first wave of attackers, but there was nothing there. They glared suspiciously at the direction of the noise before resuming their stances.
And all cried out in surprise as a ghoul lunged at them from the trees.
"What manner of ambush is this?!" Valnok blurted, dodging to the side and impaling the festering corpse with his spear. Torgall opened his mouth to reply but was cut short as, with a gurgling snarl, yet another ghoul sailed through the air towards them - more specifically, himself. Imitating Valnok's maneuver, he stepped sideways, allowing the zombie's momentum to cause it to go plummeting into the earth like a rotting, fleshy missile, and brought the axe down to sever the head from the body.
"From above!" shouted Greshka warningly, firing off several arrows as a pair of gargoyles careened through the air towards them. The first was riddled with shafts and hit the ground hard, but the second dodged her attacks, instead flying straight for Bristlefur. Valnok noticed this, however, and with an enraged bellow, tackled the bat-fiend to the ground before it could reach the injured wyvern. The gargoyle attempted to throw him off, but he plunged the spear directly into its face, causing it to fall abruptly still.
"More ghouls!" growled Torgus, swinging his maul in a huge overhead arc; the first of the ghouls was knocked bodily into the air, barreling over two others. Those behind it tried to leap upon him, but with a roar, Torgus slammed his entire body into them, causing them to fall into a heap, their legs unable to withstand the massive force that struck them.
Torgall moved towards Torgus, intended to help the older orc, but a clattering behind him made him turn. Cutting through the undergrowth were several skeletons of varying heights - whatever races they belonged to was difficult to tell. One of them wore a horned helmet, and appeared better equipped than the others - it carried a barbed blade and a heavy shield, along with some basic plate armour. Glowing red eyes surveyed him calculatingly. Another, however, was dressed in tattered and ragged robes and carried a glowing wand; it was plainly obvious that this one wielded magic. The remainder simply carried basic weaponry and armour, or nothing at all. Baring his teeth, he waved his axe through the air, taunting them to come for him.
The horned skeleton raised its sword and hissed something unintelligible to the orc, and the others save the magus charged forward. Bellowing his own warcry, Torgall kicked out at the first, an unarmed and unarmored skeleton, causing the bones to collapse outwards - he had expected little else to happen. The second one that came at him was wielding a simple hand-axe, one which he raised his arm to block; the blade bit into his leather armour, but did not penetrate far enough to cause harm. Wrenching his arm back, the skeleton's entire arm was pulled free, the ensuing force sending it spinning into a tree where it collapsed into a pile of bones.
As he raised his axe to meet the next attacker, he noticed a glowing blue from the corner of his eyes and ducked sideways; a moment later a bolt of ice rocketed past, cast forth from the skeletal mage. He growled angrily but could not retaliate, being pressed from both sides by two more skeletons. The one to his left, a smaller skeleton, carried a dagger and a wooden mallet; the other was hefting a large, rusted claymore. He was briefly torn by indecision before deciding to let the undead make the first move - the smaller skeleton struck at him first, jabbing at him with its dagger while raising the mallet. Batting the dagger aside, Torgall reached forth and grabbed the other arm holding the mallet, stopping it from crashing down on his wrist. As he did so, he saw from the corner of his vision the other skeleton winding up a powerful swing with its claymore.
Abruptly, Torgall made a split-second decision. Dropping his axe, he grabbed the smaller skeleton with both hands and spun about, swinging it violently. The necromantic magic holding the bones together resisted, but that was what he had hoped - letting go, he watched with satisfaction as the smaller skeleton collided with its larger companion, causing them both to break apart in a clatter of bones.
And watched with a mix of shock and anger as the bones quivered and reassembled.
Not as two separate skeletons, however - he was not so lucky. Rather, the mass of bones jumbled and squashed together to form an even larger opponent than before, creating a golem of bone. Sparing a glance to the side, Torgall saw the skeletal mage's teeth clacking together, giving off a hissing laughter, the wand still glowing from its spell. He bared his teeth and snarled at it, but quickly re-focused his attention on his larger, more intimidating opponent - and barely a moment too soon.
The bone golem had lifted both the claymore and mallet from the ground, throwing the latter with dangerous force at the orc; Torgall dived to the side, his eyes widening slightly as the hammer struck a tree branch and knocked it clean from the trunk. He rolled quickly as the skeleton approached, swinging the claymore in one hand with casual ease. Scrambling to his feet, Torgall hurriedly snatched up his axe from the ground and rose it to block, deflecting a forceful blow from his opponent. The new skeleton-golem had a frightening appearance up close - various bone protrusions littered its form, easily sharp enough to act as makeshift weapons and protection, and a pair of horns jutted awkwardly from the scalp. It gnashed its jagged, yellowing teeth at him threateningly as it raised the claymore for another strike.
This time, he was not going to let it get the upper hand. Ducking under its strike, he brought his axe up and around, aiming for the arm carrying the claymore. To his dismay, the blade merely rebounded off the thick arm, leaving only a shallow nick in the bone. Undaunted, he danced behind his slower opponent and renewed his strike, this time aiming for the neck. But before his axe could connect, he saw the skeletal mage summoning another bolt of frost, and was forced to abandon his attack to avoid the magical blast.
Risking a glance to the side, he looked to see how his companions were doing. Greshka was fighting with a savage fury; she had abandoned her bow in favour of her longblades now, the quarters being too close to use ranged attacks effectively. Ghouls and zombies fell apart around her in piles of rotting flesh as she hacked and slashed, her weapons flashing in the sunlight. Torgus was bellowing like a berserker, crushing anything that was too careless to get near him with his maul; a ghoul that wandered too near was sent flying into a tree, and he ground a skeleton to dust in the blink of an eye. Valnok was fighting more cautiously but no less dangerously - his concern for Bristlefur was clear, but that hadn't stopped a small number of corpses piling up around him.
Torgall's moment of inattentiveness very nearly cost him - it was not a bolt of frost this time, but a ball of flame. However, this gave him an idea. The bone golem's skeleton was too thick for his axe to be of any use, and he wouldn't be able to land a precise blow with the skeleton mage harassing him. But if he could combine the two...
Carefully positioning himself, he allowed the lumbering skeleton to size him up again. The claymore rose and fell, to which he warily avoided. He was deliberate in his movements, making sure he appeared convincing, but at the same time he did not needlessly attack - no sense wasting energy which could be put to better use against an opponent he could actually cause harm to. The skeletal mage employed a variety of magic, including frost and shadow, but also lobbed fireballs as well. Unfortunately for Torgall, these were cast at inopportune times, and missed the bone golem.
At last, however, he was in the position he desired. The bone golem was raising the claymore, lumbering towards him, when the mage's bone hands erupted in flame. Torgall watched both undead carefully, timing his movements... the golem drew closer, the mage continued to hiss its incantation... and then it fired. As the flames left its clawlike fingers, Torgall suddenly lunged forward, towards the bone golem. It gave a brief hiss of surprise which became louder by tenfold as the flames, magically reaching for Torgall, connected with it instead.
Torgall rolled to the side, watching with mild surprise as the huge skeleton burned fiercely, the thick bone somehow fuelling and feeding the flames rather than diminishing them; he had not expected the attack to prove so effectual. Over the crackling flames he could hear the skeletal mage hissing in frustration - evidently, it had not counted on Torgall using its own magic against it in such a manner. He could see his companions and even some of the other Scourge looking at the heavy smoke billowing from the golem in surprise. The only ones not surprised were the skeletal mage, which continued to hiss angrily, and the heavily armoured skeleton warrior, the red eyes still surveying him passively.
Panting, Torgall grinned tauntingly at the mage. In response, it sent a bolt of shadow energy spiralling towards him, one he easily dodged. Without the other skeletons distracting him, he could swiftly close the distance between himself and the irksome spellcaster. The magus gave a surprised hiss as he charged towards it; it summoned a shield of magical energy, but too late - with a triumphant yell, he cleaved clean through the magus' robes and shattered the ribs, causing it to collapse to the ground, the skull rolling away into the undergrowth.
Torgall turned, ready to face the remaining skeleton, half-raising his axe- and stopped. Something in the air around him felt different, as though gravity was pulling him sideways rather than downwards. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the sky above them all contort and glow - it looked as though reality itself was being warped. The skeleton warrior, too, was watching, though its demeanour still seemed passive.
The warp in the air coalesced, forming what Torgall recognized as a portal, having seen many used when he, his companions and Meilosh and his brethren were summoned by the Alliance magisters. He had barely begun to wonder why a portal was forming here of all places when three figures dropped from it, landing amidst the orcs and Scourge.
Three figures he belatedly recognized as Yulgash, Lucethious and Belpep.
Torgall instinctively moved to aid them, but he saw that Yulgash and Belpep, at least, were awake and aware, if slightly disoriented by their sudden appearance. That satisfied him enough that the trio could handle themselves. Throughout both his battle with the other skeletons and this bizarre turn of events, the skeleton warrior had remained strangely still, watching soundlessly. Now, however, its patience had apparently reached its limit - it raised its weapon challengingly, its jaw creaking as it opened.
"And now," it rasped, the red eyes glowing brightly, "we duel."