It was all going exactly as planned.
Zanien saw the eruption of arcane energy from the balcony above Vol'Jin and tensed himself for the flurry of activity that would surely erupt when the Light-damned Troll was destroyed.
He allowed his arm around Talionia to tighten slightly in anticipation. Soon, the Horde would have to pick another new leader! And, of course, one of the strongest contenders was Lor'themar Theron, Regent of the Blood Elves. With him at the helm of the Horde, the Elves would help usher in a new age for the world!
But nothing happened.
The flare of power faded, and Zanien realized with awful certainty that the damned dead mage hadn't attacked at all. In fact, she had teleported away. She wasn't supposed to be able to do that! The cripple had assured him...!
With a savage curse, he pushed Tali aside and strode down the stairs. He knew where the mage would go. There was still a chance he could salvage the situation.
Floors below, Necri staggered out of a swirling puff of grey smoke in the Magister's ruined chamber. It had taken a great deal of her energy to perform the teleport. It was a feat she had long thought impossible until the return of her fire-spells in the Ghostlands. Her old magic was not as far gone as she had believed.
She was certain that Zanien would have been watching for her attack on Vol'Jin. She knew she had only moments before he arrived, but she had much to do. Pulling her ritual dagger from its hidden sheath within Jessica's tunic, she pushed aside the splintered wreckage of the murder-scene and scraped a circle into the stone floor.
There was a sudden flicker of movement in the far shadows of the room. She whirled around just in time to duck under a broad-bladed axe that had been flung from behind the one remaining upright pillar. The axe sparked off the stone wall and clattered to the floor, but Necri's attention was on the shadowy form stepping out from the shadows.
The undead figure moved much more smoothly than she would have expected for someone who was missing his lower legs. Though it was difficult to tell in the dimly-lit room, his knees were now supported by dark pillars of smoke roughly in the shapes of calves and feet. His glowing eyes, once a clear amber like Necri's, had now darkened to an ominous, seething ochre. Twin axes were gripped in his claw-like hands. There was no trace of his canes.
"Told you these old bones had some life left in 'em," Ropart grinned nastily. "Now, step away from that circle of yours."
In response, Necri crouched awkwardly down into the circle and quickly touched its border. The spell she breathed into it wasn't the one she had been about to cast, but her plan was already out the window anyway.
A muffled curse heralded Ropart's leap toward her, both axes raised to strike. He smashed into the edge of the circle as if it was a solid wall; there was a bright flare of arcane energy and he crumpled to the floor, stunned.
Quickly, Necri stepped up to him, jabbing his chest with a single, bony finger. Looking into his eyes, she forced her will into his mind until she saw the fears written there.
Right on top was the abject terror of Sylvanas discovering his disloyalty.
It was a simple matter to construct a mental illusion of the Banshee Queen appearing before him, accusing him of betraying her. He screeched and scrambled backward into the corner of the room, shivering and quaking as excuses and pleadings poured from his lips.
Knowing the fear spell would last only seconds, Necri forced herself to ignore him. She steadily wiped the circle clean and redrew it, infusing it with a different energy. Opening her mind to the auras around her, she soon found the demonic taint she had detected earlier.
With deliberate concentration, she picked apart the threads of magic in the room, much in the same way she had back at the tomb. For someone so used to fel magic, it took almost no time at all to match the aura behind the demonic energies to identify the summoner. It was, after all, an aura she knew very well indeed.
Zanien.
There was an additional aura there as well – the magic less skilled, the bindings not quite so tight – which she assumed to be Talionia's.
Necri knew she was out of time. She closed her magical sight and stood up.
Which was the exact moment that the silks that hung in the doorway were torn aside as Zanien strode angrily into the room. Behind him trailed Talionia, who held Necri's scythe in a white-knuckled grip.
Necri didn't hesitate. Though she had almost no voice now, her mouth could still form the words, and her force of will was as strong as ever: Galarax, retrieve my staff.
The demon appeared silently behind Talionia and pounced forward, eliciting a scream of surprise and terror from the girl as it wrested the weapon from her grasp. Before either she or Zanien could react, the demon flowed across the distance and tossed the scythe to Necri.
A quick glance showed that Ropart was beginning to recover from the fear spell, so Necri gave Galarax another wordless order. As the undead scrambled back to his feet, the demon leapt over to him with glee and struck out with its black claws.
Necri almost missed Zanien's first spell, a sizzling, skull-shaped bolt of green energy. Fortunately, her preparation paid off; the spell was redirected to her circle and grounded into the defensive magic she had woven into it. The circle was annihilated by the impact, but it had done its job well.
The magical battle began in earnest.
While Ropart fended off the demon, Necri traded increasingly powerful spells with the two Elves. The enchantment in her scythe held true, cutting through the attacking energy as easily as it could part flesh. In return, she lashed out with her spells of pain, supplementing them with blasts of fire and ice. She found herself able to draw on the battle-skills she had learned two thousand years before - but without being drawn into another destructive flashback.
Soon, the room was lit by burning wreckage and choked with clouds of smoke and steam. Talionia was the first to weaken, her spells faltering as her internal pool of mana was exhausted. Necri pressed her advantage against Zanien. The elder Elf was proving to be exceptionally adept at countering and deflecting her spells, but she used a series of magical feints - costing her a great deal of her remaining mana and demonic power - to finally penetrate his defenses with her greatest spell of corruption.
His veins darkened, and despite his best efforts to dispel the curse, she watched the energy take hold through his body, clouding his mind with searing pain. He fell to his knees, and she knew she had him.
She didn't see the axe whirling towards her from behind.
It took her in the upper back, crushing several ribs and shattering her left shoulder blade. Only belatedly did she realize she could no longer feel Galarax's presence in her mind. A desperate glance around the room revealed what had happened: Talionia had darted for the door, but at the last moment had turned and cast a spell to banish the demon's physical form just before it was able to deal the fatal blow to Ropart. An empty vial fell from her fingers; a potion of mana or something similar, which she had used to regain enough strength to cast that final spell.
The undead warrior, his body severely damaged, had nevertheless managed to throw one of his weapons at Necri.
She awkwardly shifted the scythe to her right hand, but the damage was done; she needed a free hand to cast spells. As she struggled to recover from the attack, Ropart's other axe sliced deeply into her thigh, crumpling her to the floor with severed tendons. She struggled to push herself upright on one arm, using the scythe for support, but her body refused to obey.
Dimly, she was aware of Talionia dispelling Zanien's curse. There was a momentary pause, during which she managed to lever herself to her remaining good leg, only to see the two Elves standing over her.
A sizzling discharge of magic from Zanien's fingers grabbed her broken body and held it rigid. She felt her nerveless fingers drop the scythe, and the magical clothing began to tear and smoke under the assault.
"It was a mistake to think you could be useful," he spat through gritted teeth. "As damaged as you were, I thought you would be the perfect scapegoat. No matter, I shall find another way of killing that damn Troll!"
The magic tightened and intensified. She heard her bones cracking; felt the energy burn its way through her remaining flesh. A bright flare of light obscured her vision, then consumed all thought.