Siege of Darkness
Chapter 2: The Wardens Tale; A Startling Discovery
By: Duneczan
KALIMDOR, TEN MINUTES LATER
The three Wardens and the leaders of the Azeroth nations walked deeper into the Night Elf encampment at the base of the World Tree. Keirn pulled Arlan to the side as they reached the gate through which Archimonde assaulted the World Tree.
"Arlan," he said. "Samira and I will head off into the forest, to see if any other evils may lurk nearby. Stay here and answer their questions as best you can. I would stay myself, but..."
"Keirn, I have known you for most of my hundred and fifty years. There is no reason to explain yourself. I will make your excuses for you." Keirn nodded, clapped Arlan on the shoulder and walked away. Seconds later, he and Samira had disappeared into the forest. Arlan turned on his heel, only to see himself faced with four leaders, each one with a quizzical look on their faces.
"Where are those two off to?"
"They are heading into the forest to make sure the demons have left. Keirn asked me to remain here to answer the questions you most likely have."
"They left you to face a gauntlet? Some friends." Jaina said.
"You must understand, neither Keirn nor Samira are very...out going. Keirn is not one for small talk. He only opens up to his friends. Samira, on the other hand, just doesn't like people. I've known her and fought by her side for half a century and she still regards me as merely an associate. Trust me, you are better off talking to me than them. As a former ruler, I'm used to talking to other leaders, and how to speak with them." Arlan looked longingly at the Night Elf buildings that were on the horizon. "Can we find someplace to sit down? I am tired from battle, summoning so many golems in one day can drain even the most experienced spellcaster."
"Of course, there is a hunters hall nearby that we can use. Follow me." Tyrande led them through the gates and into the base. Now that the demons had gone, the druids and warriors of the Night Elf people had begun to heal, rest, and repair their encampment. The tall buildings that housed the archers and huntresses of the Sentinels came into view. They walked into the nearest one and went to a vacant room. Arlan eased himself into one of the wooden chairs and watched the others do the same.
"Now, I know at least one question that all of you have on your mind. Who are we? As we said, we are Wardens. Fifty years ago, Lorche's greatest servant, the Archdemon Azrael, commanded his generals to assault the mortal plain. You see, both Lorche and Azrael had been banished from the mortal and immortal plains. Lorche was chained to a pillar at the heart of the hellish realm know as the Pit of Suffering. Azrael, during a fight with Wotans greatest warrior, the Archangel Michael, was torn asunder after his defeat. His spirit was bound to twelve runestones, but part of him was still free. That part also was forced to remain in the Pit. However, unlike Lorche, Azrael could roam free. He could find areas where the barrier between realms was thin. There he could contact his minions, which he did often. The war that erupted was devastating. My kingdom, Dyscallion, fell before the onslaught of the demons and their Human allies. The neighboring kingdoms of Myss and Concordia put up valiant fights, but even they fell. However, it was at the beginning of this war that a group of heroes emerged, bent on ending the reign of destruction. They and a number of their allies fought and fought and fought, until at last they came to the chamber where the Runestones of Azrael were being combined. Had that happened, Azrael could return to the mortal plain in his original form and take control. If he had been able to do so, he could easily have gained the power to release his master. Fortunately, the heroes stopped them. They destroyed the altar and cast a spell that hid the runes across the planet. After the war was won, the heroes and their allies scoured the lands, freeing the enslaved and fighting what remained of Azraels forces. The fallen kingdoms began rebuilding themselves, this time with the help of their neighbors. Wotan, Rixan, and Nishala, three of the four gods of Myrhistal, combined their power and banished Lorche and all his children. They then gave their blessing to the heroes that saved their creation."
"Were you one of them?"
"No, Master Stormrage, I was not. However, I did aid them many times in battle, and for that I was rewarded with the same gift as the true heroes of the war. There was Keirn and Samira, as well as the Paladin Pius Arcane, the ranger Alanya Kithel, the Dwarven warrior Rorick Ironhill, the Wicca Autumn Wind, the Stormblade Erik Ravencroft, and the crazed enchanter Jaziz. They were the ones that faced off against the Shadowlord, Azrael's chief general. Myself and a number of others, who were mere acquaintances of these great people, were also rewarded. We were granted the gift of immortality, so that we could forever guard our beloved planet."
"Something must have gone terribly wrong for you to abandon your home."
"We did not abandon our home. The Great Dragons, keepers of the four elements and eldest of all races, vowed to protect Myrhistal in our place." Arlan cleared his throat and drank from the waterskin on his belt. When he had finished, he lowered his eyes and his voice became angry. "Several months ago, I heard a rumor that Cryus Nalain, an elf and another of the Wardens, had mysteriously vanished. Keirn, who had known Cryus for as long as he had known me, and Alanya Kithel rushed to Tamerset, a large city on whose outskirts Cryus lived. They found his hut destroyed and his fellow druids slaughtered. There was no sign of him. A few day later Arielas and Atril Kithel, Alanya's younger brothers, also went missing. It went on and on and on, until only Keirn, Samira, Pius, Erik, Alanya, and myself were left. Then it happened. We were sitting on a grassy hill, contemplating what was going on, when red lightning shot down from the heavens and a red portal appeared before us. From the portal came a demon, a demon that we had never seen before. With him came a large force of winged demons and demonic hounds, whom we now know are called the Doom Guard and felhounds."
"It was Archimonde, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Lady Whisperwind, it was. The fight between us was fierce, but he proved to have the upper hand. Pius, Erik, and Alanya were dragged into the portal. Archimondes forces would have captured us as well had it not been for the timely intervention of Rixan, although we did not know it at the time." For the first time since he began his tale, Arlan smiled. "Rixan, you see, is the god of the wyrms. When Rixan decides to take on a mortal form, he usually does so in the shape of one of his children. This time he chose a very appropriate form. Just as Archimonde was reaching for Samira, a massive shape hit the ground, and an earthquake ensued. Standing behind Archimonde, behind the portal, was the largest fire dragon we had ever seen."
"A fire dragon?"
"Yes, the greatest of elemental dragons, fire dragons are born of the flame. Their scales are made of hardened, crystallized magma, and lave flows through their veins. They are an awe inspiring sight, and Rixans form was much more so. He was over a thousand feet long, and his teeth were the size of a horse. The look of fear on Archimondes face was priceless. He dove through the portal before Rixan could devour him. The portal closed and Rixan changed his shape once more, turning himself into a human cleric. He healed our wounds and told us who had attacked us and why. After that..."
"After that?" Jaina asked.
"After that, we hardly knew what to say. It took days for us to comprehend this new information. However, once we had, we quickly made our decision. We went to the Temple of Wotan in Luxor, the capital of Concordia. We prayed to Wotan and, after several hours, the god appeared before us. He told us the history of our world, and the history of another world that he had helped to create. He spoke of Azeroth, and of the beings that lived on the planet. He also spoke of the evils that followed the Titans, he spoke of Sargeras. Then Wotan said that Lorche and Sargeras were brothers, Lorche being the eldest. We then knew where to find our friends. Wotan said he would open a portal to Azeroth, and he would give us his blessing to leave."
"So the three of you came here, ready to fight the Burning Legion on your own?"
"We did not come alone Thrall. We brought with us an army, a small army, but an army nonetheless. They arrived a month after we did, for we could not wait the month that was needed for the army to be gathered."
"Where is this army of yours?"
"Northrend. We were there seeking clues, but all we found was Ner'zhul and his army of the undead. One morning we found ourselves surrounded by a force of skeletons and ghouls. Fortunately, our army appeared through a series of magical portals. The mere sight of dragon riders was enough to scare them off. We gather the leaders and told them that we would continue our quest in Kalimdor. The army remains at Northrend until the goblins have finished building us a fleet that will transport them to us." Arlan shook his head. "Those goblins had better be doing the best they can. We paid them enough."
"Why not just magic them here?"
"Our magic does not work that way. We have no combat spells that would allow us to move an entire army. Only the forces of evil use such spells on our world, and we wish not to sink to their level. And so the three of us wait, until such time as the fleet has been completed. We were originally going to wait to reveal ourselves until they arrived on Kalimdor, but Archimondes appearance forced our hand."
"Yes, and had you not showed up when you did...who knows what would have happened to us. We had thought that with Archimondes death, the Legion would fall back."
"Lorche's doing, I'll wager. He is a task master. I am sure that our appearance fouled his plans for the moment. However, it will not be long until the Legion resurfaces. And with the new powers that the dreadlords have...well, it is best not to dwell on that. At least we will not have to worry about Lorche resurrecting Archimonde."
"How so?"
"Archimonde has failed too many times. Sargeras may forgive failure, but Lorche most certainly does not. If anything of Archimonde remains in the netherrealm, you can rest assured that it is undergoing painful torture."
"So not only does this Lorche resurrect our dead enemies, he grants them new powers as well. And then there are those that follow him..."
"Yes, Master Stormrage, Lorche has quite a following. Humans, Orcs, Dwarves, Dark Elves, and other dark races follow his whim. The dracoids that you faced are the least of your worries. You will soon find that there are demons that follow him that are far more powerful than Archimonde was."
ASHENVALE FOREST, KALIMDOR
"I do not like leaving Arlan back there alone Keirn," Samira said as they trudged their way through the dense forest.
"Arlan is quite capable of handling himself Samira. I have the utmost faith in him."
"You would. You have known him ever since you saved his life from the tyler. But these people can be just as dangerous."
"Samira, I will not tell you again. Arlan can handle himself. Besides, I do not think they will harm him. We did help them after all."
"Yes, about that. Why did you send me to help the Orcs? You know I despise Orcs."
"You just answered your own question. I sent you there because of your dislike for Orcs. You need to learn that not all Orcs are the same."
"Yes, but these Draenorian Orcs are just like our own. Easily seduced by the power of the demons, corrupt, vile, murderous, barbaric."
"And just like the Orcs of our world, they have freed themselves of the Burning Legions influence."
"But for how long? The Warsong Clan certainly reverted back to their old ways quickly enough."
"I do not think Thrall would let that happen again."
"Thrall is young. He could easily be corrupted by the demon essence."
"Give him some credit Samira. Thrall may be young, but he has managed to turn the Horde from its barbarous ways and turn them into a more civilized people. He has returned shamanistic magicks to the Horde."
"Which makes them all the more dangerous." Keirn though about her words for a moment. She was right in a way, for the powers of a shaman can be quite formidable.
"That may be true, but I have faith that Thrall can lead them well." Samira did not answer for several moments. She seemed to be contemplating what to say next. Keirn began to worry. She was never this thoughtful when it came to her dislikes.
"Still, I do not trust those...those Shrakta." At this Keirn stopped. He grabbed Samira by her arm and whirled her around to face him. When she looked up at him to ask what he was doing, she saw a fire blazing in his eyes that she had only seen twice before. The first time had been long ago, during their long battle with the Shadowlord. The second time was when Archimonde kidnapped Alanya. It was a look that he gave only to his most hated enemies. She now knew that her words were poorly chosen.
"YOU DO NOT USE THAT WORD EVER...EVER!" He shouted. Samira tried breaking his grip, but she knew it was in vein. Trying to break the grip of a Daedra was like trying to kill a dragon with a pebble. Her normally fierce violet eyes dimmed, and her appearance changed to that of a young child. This was a transformation that occurred only when she was tired or feeling deep sorrow.
"Keirn...I..."
"ENOUGH!. I do not know where this racism has surged from Samira, but you had best dam it up now, for your own sake." He let go of her arm, which she began to rub. Now she knew why the other Wardens tried never to anger him. "We need these people Samira. The demons control this entire world, a world where our friends, our...our loved ones may be imprisoned. We are but three warriors and twelve hundred fighters gathered from nations that are still recovering from devastation. This world, no matter how much we have been told about it, is still a mystery. We do not know where Archimonde may have stashed our friends, we do not know if they have been moved. By all the gods in the Heavens, we do not even know if they are still alive. If they are, then we must find them. In order to find them, we need the help of those who live here, for it is their home. Also, you know how you felt when your people were nearly slaughtered by the Shadowlords generals?"
"Yes," she managed to utter.
"These people feel the same way! Lordaeron, Kul Tiras, Quel'Thalas, Khaz Modan , Gilneas, Azeroth, all lie in ruins because of the Scourge and the Burning Legion. Thousands are dead, thousands more are either dying or in hiding. The Orcs are nearly extinct because they have been hunted almost endlessly by both the Alliance of Lordaeron and the Legion. The Taurens are in the same boat because of the Centaurs. And the Kaldorei...the fate of the Night Elves lies in whether or not that reawakens." He pointed to the charred and burned World Tree. They are in as bad a shape as we were fifty years ago, if not more so."
"You're saying that our concerns should not be solely placed on the lives of our comrades, but on these people as well?"
"Yes. Myrhistal and Azeroth have more in common than just our gods. It seems as if both our worlds are intertwined in the same circle of death and destruction. What one feels the other feels also. What one loses so does the other. If one falls, so goes the other."
"I see your point Keirn. We need them as much as they need us. They can help us find our friends, just as we can aid them in taking back their world. It still does not seem like a fair trade."
"It is more than fair. In fact, I believe that when this is over, we will owe them a great debt."
"How do you mean?" Keirn took a moment before answering. The fire in his eyes had died out some time ago, but was now being replaced by a deep sorrow.
"You know love, correct?"
"I..." Samira didn't know how to respond. Never before had she ever spoke of her emotions in such an open manner. Except for once, with... "Yes Keirn, I know love. Although this is the first that I have ever admitted it." Even though their task was dire, she knew she had to get this out. It just felt right. She found a rock and sat down on it. "The first time I ever met a man outside of my village, I nearly killed him. That man was Rygus Ravencroft, Erik's brother. Despite the fact that I showed outward signs of aggression towards him, he never gave up being kind to me. Then, one day, everything changed. I found myself wanting to be in his company, to be with him. So yes, I do know love, but I do not know what that has to do with anything."
"I, too, know love Samira. Oh, I was once like you. I loathed other races deeply. Humans killed my mother, elves murdered my people, albeit long ago. And yet, the first person I had ever called friend was of both human and elven blood."
"Arlan."
"Yes. And then I met Cryus Nalain, and also the Ravencroft brothers. They were my friends, my colleagues, and I would do anything for them. It wasn't until I met an elven woman in the halls of a ailing king that I felt something within me. Oh, we did not much like each other in the beginning. Yet we did grow close, and we in fact began to love one another." Keirn's voice grew soft as he remembered pleasant memories. "For the first time in my life I was truly happy. But then Alanya was ripped away from me. Her loss created a hole in me that nothing can fill. If I can find her again, if I can be reunited with her, that hole will by filled. And if these Elves, Dwarves, Humans, Orcs, Trolls, and Taurens are the ones that help me find her, the debt I will owe them will be eternal. Do you not feel the same way?"
"Yes...yes, I honestly do."
"Good." He held out his hand to her. "Come, we are on a hunt, remember?" She took his hand and stood up.
"Keirn, I'm sorry for what I said. I did not mean-"
"Yes, you did. But you are forgiven for now. We will leave it at that." The softness that had been in his voice only a moment before had been replaced by a hard edge. Samira sighed. It's going to be a long day.
Back at the Night Elf base, Arlan continued answering the questions the leaders ask him. He had told the story of how Keirn had saved him from a tyler, a dragon like creature that has a mean temperament, when he was a child. He told them about the dragons of their world, how they are divided among elemental, chromatic, and metallic dragons, and how each type of dragon divided among dragons and dragonlords. He now spoke of his kingdom, Dyscallion, and its capital of Havensvale.
"Dyscallion is a beautiful place. Rolling hills of green, lush forests of thick trees, vast plains, towering mountains, all these and more make up the land of Dyscallion. Havensvale, where I once ruled, overlooks the Great Sea. Built between three rivers that cascade over the cliff in waterfalls, Havensvale is one of the most serene, most beautiful places I have been honored to walk through. Even the massive keep, the Eternia Fortress, somehow adds to Havensvale's majesty."
"You sound as if you miss it greatly."
"Oh, I do young warchief. However, while nothing can replace my homeland in my heart, this place relieves my grief. Kalimdor truly is a wondrous place. I can feel the magical energies flowing through the trees and the air. I-" He was interrupted when a Night Elf came walking into the room. It was the one called Shandris, one of Tyrande's generals.
"Forgive the intrusion, but I have just hear news of great importance."
"Speak Shandris. Our friend here has been speaking for quite some time. I am sure he welcomes the intrusion," Tyrande said, looking at Arlan. He nodded his head, and again took a sip from his waterskin. Shandris looked at the half-elf, as if just now noticing him. She then looked back to her leader.
"Priestess, our scouts have seen something...remarkable. Not one but two dragons of immense proportions head this way. One from the north and another from the east." No one noticed, for they were all shocked by this news, that Arlan looked up suddenly. It wasn't until he spoke that they remembered he was there.
"Tell me, what color were these dragons?"
"One was a brilliant emerald green. The other was much darker, nearly black as night. Some scouts report that this black one also bears red and grey markings."
"It is possible that Deathwing returns," Furion said. His eyes were glowing with hatred. "His spawn have been trying to claim this land for eons. The green dragon...it is possible that Ysera has come to fight him."
"I do not think so, Master Stormrage," Arlan said. All heads turned to him. They all wore quizzical expressions." "Lady Shandris, was the green dragon coming from the north and the black dragon from the east?"
"Yes...how?"
"And your scouts have thus far been unable to attack them?"
"Yes. They are overcome by a feeling of great awe, and something compels them not to attack."
"Then you need not fear. You may have heard that Keirn, Samira, and I brought dragons with us from Myrhistal. Those two dragons you describe are very important, very close friends of ours. The green dragon is named Gorbash, and he is a dragonlord, which explains his size. He was left behind in Northrend and was told to contact us when our forces were ready to depart. The other is Briog, a child of red and black dragons. He, too, is a dragonlord and equal in size and power to Gorbash. He stayed behind in Lordaeron, to watch over the rebel factions in each of the nations there. They have traveled long and hard, so they will not reach us until morning. As for what your scouts felt, it is called Dragonawe. While the evil dragons of our world have an aura of fear around them, the good dragons make others feel nothing but awe. They do not like being fired upon for now reason, so that is why the good dragons use this Dragonawe."
"And you are sure you can trust them?" This from Jaina.
"Oh yes. You see, these dragons are the friends, servants, and familiars of Keirn Hallyn."
Dusk fell and night began to take over the land. Shadows deepened and a fine mist began to form over the forested regions of Ashenvale. The sky, clear of clouds, was filled with bright, shining stars. To those that have dwelled on Kalimdor for ages, it was nothing new. To those who have only recently called the land home, it was still unsettling. To Keirn and Samira, far away from the burning fires of war camps, it was just another night. For the two of them, both being children of nature, the night brought peace and comfort. It also allowed their sense to be used to their fullest. Samira, child of the Saras, descendents of both the ancient Calad'hrim and the vile, yet equally ancient Dark Elves, was accustomed to the night. By day her Calad'hrim heritage ruled. By night, it was the power of her Dark Elf ancestors that reigned supreme. Masters of the night, they could see farther at night than any other creature, save the mighty dragons. Keirn, child of both human and dragon, inherited his mothers infravision and 'nethersense', the ability to feel the presence of others through their spirit and auras rather than through sight, so the night posed no problems for him. They also seemed to move faster in the dark, especially Samira, where her shadowmelding abilities came into their own. Flitting among the trees with exceptional speed, Samira scouted ahead to watch for dangers. It was Keirn, however, and his nethersense that discovered danger. He raised his hand, and Samira saw the signal. Both of them moved into the trees quickly and quietly.
"What did you sense?" Samira asked, her voice a barely audible whisper.
"Something dark. Something ancient." Keirn replied, his voice a whisper as well, though not as soft as hers.
"Can you tell what it is?"
"No. It is odd, for I feel both great evil and great good. The good is being suppressed somehow, but not by the evil. The evil is some distance from the good." Voices, several of them fairly loud, came up on the wind. The two Wardens crouched low, waiting to see what comes by. They had left the beaten path some time ago, and had been walking roads long unwalked by any mortal creatures. Their keen senses began picking up the sound of footsteps, loud ones, ones wearing armored boots. There was also something else, almost snakelike in its sound.
"I count thirty, maybe forty different steps." Samira whispered.
"Thirty-eight and two others. The footfalls are very familiar, but these lands are strange, and can cloud our assessments. The other two..."
"The sounds of serpents moving slowly along the land." Keirn nodded in agreement. The two continued their watch, until a faint light could be seen coming towards them. Then a pair of figures appeared. They had green skin beneath horned helms. Their backs held massive axes and broad swords. Metal shields hung from their arms, and their heavy black armor absorbed the light they carried. The two were of a species both familiar and new to the world of Azeroth.
"Orcs..." Keirn said, his voice a barely audible growl. These were not the Orcs of Draenor, brought to Azeroth through the machinations of the sorcerer Medivh. These were the Orcs of Myrhistal, servants of Azrael and harbingers of death and famine.
"Look Keirn, they bear the mark of the Night Hammer and Stone Breaker Clans."
"First of the clans to join Azrael's mission."
"And the evilest of the Orcs of our world. They-" Whatever she was about to say was cut off by the appearance of two creatures that were unlike any seen by the normal folk of Azeroth. They were also the bane of the Wardens. They stood seven feet tall, on serpentine tails that extended another several feet behind them, and had the torso, arms, and head of a human, although the eyes were far from human. They were Naga, fearsome demon sorcerers of the Pit, favored servants of Lorche. It is their magic that was used to encase the Wardens in crystal prisons during the war fifty years ago. Their presence here means that the captured Wardens may have met the same fate they did long ago. "Keirn..."
"I see them. We must be very careful. One false step and-" He moved his hand across his throat. While not overly powerful, Naga are capable of imprisoning even the mightiest of warriors in stasis prisons. For this reason alone are they considered highly dangerous, and even Lorche and Azrael use them only on certain missions. "Whatever the reason for their presence, it must be of great importance. Lorche would never risk using them on anything mundane."
"And how are we to find that out? A frontal assault is out of the question here. Those Orcs we could handle easily, but the Naga..."
"I know, but I have just the spell that will take care of them. All I need is a diversion." Samira smiled and nodded.
"We are fortunate, then, that night has fallen. I work best in the dark, and those creatures are rather poor at nightvision." Samira seemed to fade into the darkness of the shadows. Keirn sensed that she had gone from her place next to him and jumped across the way. It did not surprise him that it took such a short time to do so. Her shadowmelding skills are far superior to those of the Night Elf females. I must remember to tell her to not teach the Sentinels that form of the technique. It would greatly unbalance the scales. He banished that thought. Now was not the time to let thoughts go askew. Keirn pulled out the small sapphire crystal that hangs around his neck and began to chant. At that same time, Samira began her diversion.
A green arch of energy flew towards the Orc warriors. While Samira could easily have killed the two warriors, she wanted them disoriented, not dead. At least, not yet. Turning on its muscular tail, one of the Naga threw a fireball towards Samira's location. She was gone already, but the light from the flame illuminated her black clad leg as he jumped away. Again she launched another of her shadow archs towards the enemy.
As she did this, a change came over Keirn. His black and silver armor seemed to melt away and robes of green and black began to form. The sword in his hand began to grow long, and changed from metal to wood, sharp to blunt. The robes that form are of ancient make, created by Deadric sorcerers of Myrhistal ages ago, before demons roamed the land. They were given to him by the elder of his mothers clan. It was a powerful set of robes, blessed by the god Rixan himself. While Keirn had little need for the power enhancing aspects of the robes, he had decided to wear them out of respect and honor for his elders. It was a decision he had not learned to regret. Whenever he wore them, he felt as if the entire might of his dragon ancestors was behind him. In a sense, he was right. The robes granted him access to spells long forgotten, even by the current dragons of his world. Many secrets had died during the time when demon and dragon fought each other. Many of those were imbued within these robes.
Keirn's transformation was completed, and the black robes with green overrobe flowed around him as he stood. Placing the magical staff before him, he began to chant. The words came easily and flowed freely from his mouth. He spoke in the ancient dragon tongue of magic, different from that which human and elven spellcasters speak on Myrhistal. Finally, he spoke the four words of power that would invoke his spell. His eyes flashed as he finished chanting and the crystal sphere at the top of the staff glowed brightly.
It was then that the Naga realized it was a trap. It was then that they realized it was too late. Storm clouds formed rapidly overhead. Lightning flashed between them, the flashes coming quicker and quicker as the clouds began to cover the sky. Keirn raised his staff and slammed it to the ground. Lightning struck the earth. It was not just one lightning bolt that struck, it was dozens, hundreds, thousands, that hit the ground. They hit the Orcs and the Naga. The demonic spellcasters tried in vain to protect themselves, but even they could not withstand the might of the lightning storm. The lightning began to subside, fewer and fewer bolts were hitting the ground. Then they stopped falling. The storm clouds receded, and the starry night once again filled the sky. Samira jumped form one of the branches of a tree, while Keirn stepped from the forest and onto the path. The smell of burnt flesh filled the night air. Keirn wrinkled his nose.
"I forgot how badly the lightning storm seared the flesh," he said. Samira looked down in disgust.
"And I though they smelled bad when not burned to a crisp." She looked up at Keirn and gave him and angry look. "The next time you decide to use that spell, warn me. You nearly hit me back there."
"My apologies. I though you had realized what spell I would cast. Not many spells in my repertoire would work on a group as spread out as this one."
"Yes...well..." She would have continued, had it not been for the look on Keirns face. "What?"
"The sense of goodness I felt still exists and is nearby. In fact..." He turned on his heel, only to come face to face with a large chest. Upon the trunk were runes of power and, after Keirn cast a spell of detection, spells of warding.
"You think that whatever it is you felt is coming from within it?"
"Of course. The aura of good is coming from this chest." Keirn spoke a few words of magic. A faint white shell formed over the trunk, the sign of the warding spells. Keirn spoke a few more words of magic, and the shell shattered. Samira bent down to open it, but Keirn stopped her. "We must not open it here. It isn't safe."
"Then where?"
"Back at the camp." He pointed to the runes. "Look closer Samira. Look at the runes." She did, and recoiled in fear.
"It is inscribed with the runes of death and decay! Had I opened it..."
"Then you would now be dead. Even I cannot break rune spells. Only Arlan can." Of all the Orders of Magic that control the magicks of Myrhistal, only the Rune Wizards dare study the ancient runes of Azrael, from which archdemon drew his power. Although the runes are safely guarded back on Myrhistal, and no longer in the hands of Azrael or his master, their power still emanates on Azeroth. Only Arlan, himself a Rune Wizard, can hope to open the trunk without causing disaster.
"Okay, what next? I know you could easily lift this chest, but it is too wide for even you to carry."
"You still have that teleportation scroll right?"
"Yes."
"And has it had enough time to regain its energies?"
"I don't know." Samira pulled the scroll from her belt and looked at it. Silver writing was scrawled on the parchment, in the spidery lettering of magic. "Yes, it is ready to use once again."
"Then do so." Samira nodded and began reading the scroll. White light surrounded them both, and the trunk, and all three vanished.
"So you see," Arlan said to the gathered leaders, "not only do the dragons of our world interfere with mortal affairs, they do so on a regular basis. While this is generally frowned upon by wyrmic elders, it is common practice. Granted, they do so in the guise of a mortal, but the interference is still there. It is a far cry from what Alexstrasza and her ilk do. No, the Aspects, save for Deathwing, do not care much for interfering with the mortal races. Although I've heard rumors that some of the Red Flight has-" A brilliant light filled the chamber that they were speaking in, and a load 'thunk' was heard as something heavy hit the floor. Thrall, Jaina, Furion, and Tyrande turned to see Samira and a robed figure standing behind them, a large chest between them. The robed figure pulled back his hood and revealed himself to be Keirn Hallyn.
"When did you find the time to change clothes, Master Hallyn?" Furion asked. "And why is there a wooden chest on the floor?"
"The first is a question that can be answered later," Keirn replied. "The latter is something that must be addressed quickly. Thrall, if you would be so kind as to help me lift this thing onto that table you are sitting at..." The warchief nodded and walked over to help the Deadra. Grunting, both men pulled the chest off the floor and carried it over to the table. With another loud 'thunk', the chest was put down heavily. Still sitting, Arlan stared at the chest before him, and then at Keirn.
"A present? For me? Keirn, you shouldn't have." Arlan smiled as he said this, although he was already standing up to inspect the runes that glowed faintly. "I can see you found an interesting treasure my friends. I'm also pleased that you didn't try opening it yourselves."
"One of us almost did," Samira said softly. Arlan looked back at her and arched an eyebrow. He said nothing, and turned his eyes back to the puzzle before him. "Hmm..."
"Can you open it?" Keirn asked.
"Yes, although I will need some help. The Rune of Death is something I know much about, as it is one of the Twelve, however, the Rune of Decay is one of the Stones Minor, and not something my order focuses on." Arlan pulled a silver coin from his pouch and placed it on the table. He tapped the center twice and bent down to it. "Time to come out, my little friend. Your hibernation is at an end." The natives of Azeroth looked at Arlan in astonishment. Talking to coins of any type is usually something that only the insane do. Yet Arlan did not seem as if he had lost any of his faculties. However, to their even greater astonishment, the coin began to glow with a silver aura. It began to melt and reshape itself, growing larger and changing color as it did so. The coin took on a draconic form, with golden hued scales. the aura faded, and standing before them on the table was a small, golden dragon that was barely over two feet in length.
It stretched its wings outward, almost as if they had been flush against the dragonlings body for a long time. It then stretched its entire body, moving like a cat doing to the same. Once it was finished stretching, the small creature sat on its haunches and twirled its long tail around its lower body. Red eyes looked up at Arlan, and a wyrmic smile crossed the creatures face.
"What is that?" Jaina asked, a question the others were to awed to ask. The creature turned its long neck to face the human sorceress. It bowed its head and opened its small mouth.
"I, my lady, am a Kodragon," it said, with a deep voice that did not fit its body. "My name, among you mortals, is Lightning." Lightning looked back at Arlan, the smile gone from his features. "And exactly how long was I pent up in that coin this time?" He asked. Keirn stifled a laugh, and even Samira seemed to be forcing herself not to smile.
"That can wait Lightning," Arlan said. "Right now we need to see what was so important that they had to use the Death and Decay runes to seal this." He pointed to the chest. The small, golden Kodragon looked at the chest. It spoke a word of magic and several more runes flared to life.
"Yes, and there are also the Runes of Fire, Power, and Abyss," the Kodragon said. "Somebody certainly doesn't want you to find out what's in here." Together, the wyrm and the wizard began looking over the chest. Arlan's hand touched something wet, and when he looked down to see what it was, he saw a dark liquid on the side.
"So Keirn, when did you find the time to fight Orcs?" He asked, without looking away from his task.
"They were guarding the chest, along with-" He stopped. Thrall had turned to stare at him, his hand down on his warhammer. He looked angry.
"You fought Orcs? My people?" He asked, his voice filled with anger.
"No, not your people. Had they been your people, I would have greatly questioned your sincerity when it comes to defeating the demons that once held your people in their power. The Orcs Samira and I faced were not of this world or of Draenor. They were of Myrhistal, so they were our Orcs. There are subtle differences between your kind and theirs, the main one being that their skin is a darker hue of green, and they are far more violent and bloodthirsty in battle, even the good ones. These Orcs belonged to two clans that would slaughter your people without a single thought if they had the chance." Keirn looked at the warcheif. "Besides, I knew they were evil just by the company they kept. There were two Naga with them, which are powerful sorcerers of the demonic hordes. No creature forced to serve demons would walk among them willingly, and these Orcs were definitely quite willing to work alongside them."
"You took care of the Naga then?" Arlan asked. "Was that thunderstorm I heard your work?"
"Yes, it was."
An hour passed, an hour of silence. Arlan and Lightning worked non-stop on trying to open the chest. Finally, Arlan and his familiar stepped away, both looking very tired.
"It is done. The chest may now be opened safely," Lightning said. He sat back on his haunches like he had before. Arlan fell heavily into the wooden chair he had used previously. Keirn walked towards the chest and opened it slowly. He gasped when he saw its contents.
"It can't be..." Samira stepped up next to him and did the same.
"Impossible. There is no way the demons, or their followers, could have touched these!" She said. The leaders of the Alliance, the Horde, and the Night Elves all looked strangely at the Wardens.
"What? What is in the chest?" Tyrande asked. Without answering, Keirn reached into the chest and pulled out a sword, one that was longer than the chest was wide. "Weapons?"
"That is not an ordinary sword, Priestess Tyrande," Thrall said. "I can sense the Spirit of Fire calling out to it. And the sword answers."
"It would," Arlan answered. "That is Embris, Sword of Soulfire. Forged nearly four hundred years ago in the Human kingdom of Fervor by Daedric blacksmiths, enchanted by Daedric wizards, and used to fight off the demonic hordes during the Third War." Keirn laid the blade on the table and pulled his sword from its scabbard. The gathered leaders just now noticed that he once again wore his black and silver armor. The sword in his hand was identical to the one on the table, even though one was a claymore and the other a long sword. "And that is Anarsul, the Soulreaver. Forged at the same time as Embris. And, if I am not mistaken, the other two sister-swords are within the chest." That they were. With an almost reverent move, Keirn pulled out two more longswords. "Those are Vendryl, the Soulcleaver and Cylren, the Soulsplitter. All four swords were made by the Fervor kingdom, and are called the Soul Swords of Fervor. How they managed to be placed in that chest is beyond me. Vendryl is the blade of Pius Arcane, and Embris is wielded by Erik Ravencroft. Cylren has been lost in time ever since Fervor fell into darkness. What else lies within the chest Keirn?"
Both Keirn and Samira began pulling more from the chest. Other than the three Fervor swords, there were three katanas, curved swords with extremely sharp blades, three warhammers, a longbow and a staff. Samira took our her sword, and it matched the three katanas, although her weapon was slightly longer.
"Odd," Samira said. "These are the weapons of our fellows, but not all of them. This longbow is yours I believe Keirn. And this staff belonged to Atril Kithel, Alanya's youngest brother."
"They are," Keirn replied. "We have here, reunited for the first time ever, the four Soul Swords of Fervor, the four Runeblades of Kelandair, and three of the four Hammers of Dalius. All of these weapons were created to fight the demons, and none of them are able to be wielded by demons, let alone touched. Where, I wonder, is Kerdal, the Maul of Power."
"Why do you wonder that?" Thrall asked.
"Well, when the Daedra of Fervor created the Soul Swords, Anarsul was the first one forged. As you can see, it is longer and larger than the others. The Knights of Fervor used longswords and shields in their battles, therefore a claymore would be hard for them to wield. Which is why it was never used until it came into my possession. The same can be said for the Hammers of Dalius. Three of them are easy for regular humans to handle. However, Kerdal was far larger than the others, and could only be wielded by three races. Of those three races only two of them are in abundance on Azeroth."
"Orcs and Dwarves," Jaina said.
"Exactly. On Myrhistal, only Daedra, Orcs, and Dwarves are able to carry Kerdal. That maul was handed down through many generations of Dwarven warriors, until it came into the hands of the Orc chieftan Gel'roc. He handed it down to his children, who handed it down to their children. Then, a powerful Orc by the name of Kaloth became its master. Kaloth is one of the Wardens."
"After what you have said, it is surprising to hear that an Orc is one of the Wardens."
"That it is, Thrall. Kaloth once led the Doombringer Clan, but was overthrown when he refused to allow the demons to control his people. He now commands the nearly three thousand remaining Orcs on Myrhistal. For his valiance during the Great War, and the fact that he and two hundred of his best warriors held off the demon hordes while myself, Samira, and the others destroyed the altar within the Temple of Runes, is what made the gods grant him that gift of immortality. Among all the Wardens, I consider him one of my closest friends." When Keirn said this, Samira's head came up. She had not known this, and now she knew why he reacted the way he did back in the forest. She hung her head in shame and cursed herself silently. She was also thankful that she was in the back of the room, where the others could not see her. "Now, Kaloth and Kerdal worked well together. In fact, since that time no being but an Orc could even carry the maul. So, if Kerdal is not within this chest, it can mean only one thing."
"An Orc wields it?"
"Yes." Keirn swayed a bit on his feet, but Thrall and Furion rushed forward to steady him. "It had been a long day. All of us are weary and in need of rest."
"You may stay here, if you like," Tyrande said. "You three strangers have done much for us this day, and we thank you. Please, allow us to show you some hospitality."
"Indeed," Furion added. "I do not wish to know what would have happened had you not arrived. You appearance seemed to send shockwaves through the demons and their minions."
"Your enemies are our enemies, Master Furion," Arlan said from his seat. "It would not have been right for us to deny you aid. However, we thank you for your kindness and gratefully accept your offer. Don't we?" Arlan looked to Samira when he said this. The half-elf knew that Keirn would agree, so his question was mainly directed at the Sarasi Shamaness. She merely nodded. "It is settled then. We will get some rest, and I suggest you should as well, all of you. If your scouts are right, Priestess Tyrande, than Briog and Gorbash will be giving us information that should prove to be quite tiresome."
"How so?"
"Because neither of them have ever been anything but the bearers of bad news."