XII
"It looks to be the 7th," said the Communication's officer upon the radio. Garrosh sat at his table while Malkorok stood behind him.
"They just arrived," the radio crackled back.
"Good," said Garrosh. He raised his stainless steel mug of sweet cherry grog and took a drink, then tearing off a piece of meat into his mouth. He looked up just as Vol'jin and Baine came walking through the tent flap––their faces stern.
Another day passed by and his troops were getting antsy. Garrosh put on a bright and cheery face for the two leaders of the Trolls and Tauren. He grabbed two empty mugs and sat them down close, taking hold of a pitcher to pour them a drink.
"Baine, Vol'jin," he called, his voice bright and welcoming. "Come sit and drink with me." He poured them their mugs and set the plate down. It was filled with dripping grease and flavor, the meat fresh and succulent. "Have some of this! My chef cooked it rather well tonight."
The two looked at each other and then back to their Warchief. Then, they hesitantly took their seat.
Garrosh grinned again: "I have not told you that I appreciate the both of you. You are the back bone of the Horde. And it cannot function without you."
Baine looked over as Vol'jin took a sip of his grog.
"We are still concerned why we have not moved yet," said Baine. "The longer we wait, the more they have a chance to gather their finest."
Garrosh nodded.
"Your concerns are valid," he said. "And don't think that I haven't heard you. Believe me, I completely understand. If only the others would have as much love and devotion to the Horde as you."
"Yes," said Baine.
"Now for your concerns regarding all the waiting," he began and tore into the meat. Garrosh chomped noisily and swallowed hard, washing it down with his grog. "I want you to wake your troops up a the crack of dawn. Prepare your mages. We'll be making another jump!"
Both Baine and Vol'jin brightened, their eyes widened.
"Is there any problem with tomorrow?" asked Garrosh.
"No!" said Vol'jin. "Nothing, mon."
"I reckon I would give Orgrimmar's finest one more night of rest before we make the jump," said Garrosh.
There was a look of relief on both racial leaders' faces. Vol'jin's mouth dropped as his stretched, red-painted lips curled into a smile. Garrosh grinned. However Baine still had the look of worry. He left the statue in his tent, hidden under the blankets and away from the view of prying eyes. Still, he acted as if the Earth-Warder was there with him, shaking his head disapprovingly. The Tauren knew he could not ignore that giant kodo in the room for long.
"So, we jump and in less than a second, we're there," Baine said.
"Yes," said Garrosh.
"What about the Earth-Warder and his dragons?"
"Ah, the Earth-Warder," said Garrosh.
"Yes, the Earth-Warder!"
"Dhat is da other thing we be worried about," said Vol'jin, his bright face fell when Baine mentioned Neltharion. "We zap in and he crush us flat! One stomp, this war is over."
"And there won't be a ten mile lead start," said Baine. "The entrance to the marsh is only 25 miles from Theramore. He'll see the flash when we jump in, and he's there in a second with his dragons, barring our entry."
Though, despite all of this, Garrosh still remained confident.
"Well there is nothing we all can do," he said. "If he sees us, he sees us. But––he is of little consequence to me. My aim is to remove that eyesore, remove the Alliance's only port for open invasion so close to Orgrimmar. What I do is for our safety, my friends. So that we may have a future."
"What about all the rest of Kalimdor?" asked Baine. "You said you wanted to take it all."
"Only to make Kalimdor solely belong to us," said Garrosh. "To drive the Alliance from its shores and it shall make us safe."
"But the Worldmender," said Baine.
"Neltharion," said Garrosh, nodding. "He is neutral. He will only be there to defend the fort. He will restrain himself. If you are both so worried, don't attack him––don't attack his dragons and he will not attack you. If he approaches, ignore him and walk right underneath him." He rose up, dropping his mug. "So, if I were you, I wouldn't pull anything stupid that could very well get you killed."
Though it seemed Garrosh was only referring to Neltharion, to Baine, the way he said it made his warning sound more like a threat towards the Tauren Chieftain. Garrosh's brow twitched as he drank again, licking his frothy lips. He smirked at him.
"Now, take some of this meat with you and rest well with bellies full, gentlemen," he said. "We have a long jump tomorrow."
As the two left, they saw another rider on a black drake walking towards the command tent. The rider was a female orc with gray skin, a tied mohawk, and a heavy chain around her neck. It was Warlord Zaela of the Dragonmaw. She walked inside where the Warchief was just finishing his meal. Garrosh wiped his mouth on his arm and cleared his throat.
"Zaela," he said. "I need you to do me one favor. We will be making another jump tomorrow morning."
"And we will crush the Alliance stronghold in Theramore?" she asked.
"Of course," he said. "But I want you and your riders to return to Orgrimmar. And then, you must pass through the portal back to the Twilight Highlands."
"Why?"
"Because one scent that bloated dragon gets of your chain and you are the dragon's feast."
Zaela swallowed and clutched the chain tightly.
"So, you can see my concern for you," he said. "I don't want to see some one as valuable of a leader and warrior as you to be lost in this small skirmish. Better to save you for an important, and later mission."
"Yes," said Zaela. "Warchief."
"Go tonight and go quietly as you can."
"Yes, sir. But are you sure? This doesn't seem very strategic."
"It may not, but that is besides the point," he said. "Do as you are told, Warlord. The sound will echo throughout all of Theramore's fall and the Proudmoore bitch's death. And the Alliance will quiver at the sound of Horde drums."
Zaela cupped her hands together: "Please, O Warchief, let me be there to see your triumph."
Garrosh's lips curled into a smile and he placed his hand upon her shoulder.
"All in due time," he said. "But for now, you must follow my instructions and return home."
"Yes, Warchief," said Zaela. "I shall do as you order."
She placed her hand upon her chest and bowed.
"Dismissed," said Garrosh.
Zaela bowed again and exited the tent. Once more, she placed her hand upon the Demon Chain. She could feel the darkness swell inside of the chain,e pulsate with fever. Zaela took hold of the reigns on her drake, leading it back to her warriors.
"What has the Warchief said?" one asked.
"We are to return to Orgrimmar," she replied. "And then back to the Twilight Highlands."
"Why would Garrosh Hellscream order that?"
"What use are we in the Twilight Highlands?"
"He is a fool!"
Zaela sneered when she heard the sounds of their disapproving comments. She took hold of one of her warriors and tossed him to the ground, pulling her dagger from her belt.
"Would you rather find yourself in the belly of Deathwing instead?" she asked. "BEcause that is what will happen. The closer we are to him, the stronger his control over our drakes are. He will make our mounts betray us, he is the only one who can destroy the Demon Chain. that holds them. Our Warchief orders us to return to our home because of what the Destroyer will do to us! We leave now so that we may live to serve the Horde later. Be thankful for that."
She looked between her men, waiting for another word of dissent. Her steely dark eyes watching them. When she recieved no more arguments, Zaela dipped her head.
"Alright," said the Warlord. "Mount up! All of you. We have a long flight back to Orgrimmar. And back to our home.
"Why?"
"BEcause we must stay as far as we can away from Deathwing," said Zaela. "Any other problems?"
"No, ma'am," they said in unison.
"Good," she said. "Mount up. We take our leave."
The Dragonmaw mounted up, their drakes spreading their wings to take to the muggy night air.
Watching them fly off was the little Earth-Warder statue, peeping its head out from Baine's tent. Neltharion looked on, watching them disappear into the sky and then turning back to Baine.
"I am afraid I may have to leave you here, little friend," said Baine as he pulled the blanket over his shoulder. "I am sorry."
"Getting ready to leave?" Neltharion asked.
"Yes," he said.
"You don't want me to see how you will leave."
"No."
Neltharion bobbed his head. "Not that it matters. I already know about the jumps Garrosh used to travel over a thousand miles south." He paused, seeing the color drain slowly from the Tauren's eyes. Neltharion continued. "I take it he will try it again. He's going to magically jump the distance again?"
Baine merely nodded.
"I can hear it through the rock," he said. "Don't worry, I will not be here when you leave." He sighed, wagging his head. "I'll still keep my promise to you. I will not attack you unless you attack first." The dragon rumbled. "Though it will be a hard one to keep. I have to see a way around all of this."
"I still ask if you would leave. And none of us will think any less of you."
"I will not leave my home. I will not leave my family."
He turned away, appearing to exist the tent.
"However, I will leave you," he continued. Neltharion huffed again. "I can't risk your safety any longer by staying here."
The dragon turned back as Baine rose up to his knees.
"I can smell it," Neltharion said. "That fear. Retribution for what Garrosh is doing. But if there is a way to stop him, it doesn't have to happen. High Chieftain, there is something I must ask, can you love your country even if you disapprove with its leaders? Can you?"
Baine huffed.
"If Garrosh does not speak for the Horde, then what does he speak for?" Neltharion asked. "Can you be loyal to the Horde, but disagree with its leadership?" His wings parted and he shrugged. "It is a thought. But be warned, if Garrosh ever attempts to do what he did before, I will have to act again."
"What Garrosh did then upsets the Earth Mother," said Baine. "I do not know what else he has planned, though he stated he wish to further wield that power again." He took in a deep breath. "And he is unwilling to listen to wisdom."
"I hate using a scare tactic of my own to get him to listen to reason," said Neltharion. "But if I have to, then I will. So, don't be surprised if it comes to that." He dipped his head as the statue began to crumble, piece by piece. "Until we meet again, High Chieftain."
Then, the statue crumbled into black dust, the essence of the Earth-Warder leaving upon a wisp in the wind. Baine sighed and then laid down upon his blanket, thinking upon the last few words of the Earth-Warder.
The stars turned across the dome of the world, twinkling diamonds on a sea of midnight blue. A front blew in and with it a rolling carpet of fog covered across the camps of cooling fires. It brought fourth a damp chill. The songs of crickets continued to play in the reeds. The night wound down as a soft blue glow cut across the eastern horizon. Mages awoke from their tents, their cache recharged and ready to create the next portal. For them, the near week long rest was a welcomed holiday. They heard the grumbles of the soldiers to Garrosh for taking this long to move, but to them, the Warchief knew their importance and understood their need for a good long rest. It was such a strain upon their energy to create such a massive portal and keep it open long enough for an entire army to march through.
There they were, Blood Elves mostly, at the front of the army, standing along the orc Dark Shaman. Parting through the crowd was Garrosh Hellscream. He road upon his dire wolf, proud, with his Kor'kron riding along side of him. The Shaman once more saw a path through and the mages created their portal. The dome of blue-white light stretched out and up, growing ever so larger, as if to swallow the land around them. A field of black filled the around the rim and at the center was a brown, muddy marsh filled with twisted, gnarled trees.
"Dustwallow Marsh," said Malkorok.
"Sound the horn," said Garrosh.
Malkorok nodded and the horn sounded. More horns followed and the mounted riders, various motorized vehicles and tanks, and the great air ships began their march into the portal.
§§§
He flew across Mulgore, sensing its call. The valley was covered in dense fog and the tall pines stuck out from the top like little black spikes. It was there, he knew it had to be there. The song of the Focusing Iris called to him, played with him, and even taunted him. Kalecgos banked, his azure, shear wings wide, turning gold in the sun. He spied a ledge above the fog, still capped with melting glaciers from the late summer's heat. The Great Blue looked around, wanting so much for his keen eyes to catch a glimmer of it. Then, the song silenced.
"Damn," he said. "Malygos, how––how could this happen?"
Well, for one thing you moving it didn't help.
Kalecgos turned his head slightly to see the ghostly, wispy, pale form of his predecessor floating amongst the clouds.
"You're not letting go of that, are you?" Kalecgos asked the ghost.
It was perfectly fine in the Nexus. This happened because you made the decision to move it.
"Only because everyone knew where it was!" said Kalecgos. "Everyone knows where it is and what it does."
That may be true, but tell me, has anyone attempted to steal it after my death?
"Well, no," said Kalecgos replied.
When did they steal it?
The Young Spell-Weaver sighed, a wisp of frost escaping his lips. He head drooped and his wings rattled.
"When I moved it," he said in defeat.
One thing I've learned from the mortals––a saying if you will: "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." I do believe that applies here too.
"Very well, I messed up and I am sorry," said Kalecgos. "I am sorry, do you hear me Azeroth? I am sorry! Or as Neltharion would say: 'I fucking suck!' There, you happy?"
I am not disappointed that you lost it, I am disappointed that you did not come to me and asked me what I think should be done. You are still very new to this position. Two years has it been?
"Little over two years," said Kalecgos.
A spring chicken, I think. Why didn't you ask me?
Kalecgos wagged his head: "Probably because I know you'd bite my head off, Malygos."
Malygos fluttered around the Blue Dragon.
No, I would bite your head off if you didn't listen to me! And something tells me you would have done so anyways even if I advised against it. Oh, you were never the one to follow the rules, Kalecgos. A dragon with a mortal's heart and as unpredictable as a mortal as well.
"Alright, I'll admit it, I shouldn't have moved it," said Kalecgos, finally giving in. "You happy now?"
Is my happiness that important? I only want to make sure the most powerful of magical items do not fall in the wrong hands. When I tried to take away all magic from the world, it was because I saw the mortals becoming reckless again. And I have seen it before. During the Well of Eternity. The Night Elf Highborne were very reckless with the gifts they were given. And I was bid to watch and do nothing. All the power of the Titans and none of their wisdom, that is what I said. And I agreed with Neltharion's assessment. And this was before his own downfall, when his mind was one and not two. He watched with me, little Kalec. Standing side by side, we watched over and over, and dreaded what could become of it. Thousands of years passed, and we watched. Finally, our fears were met and Queen Azshara brought the Burning Legion here. The magic called to them, Kalecgos. If mortals become careless with their magic again, the Burning Legion will return.
"But they have many times, Malygos," said Kalecgos. "And many times, they were driven back. There are even some remains of those demons here on Azeroth––and they have done nothing to harm any of us. A nuisance sometimes, but nothing devastating. And the Dark Portal is watched daily."
You think those shadows are the threat? Malygos asked. No, they aren't. The likes of Kil'jaeden are still out there. Even he was not destroyed, but merely pushed back. And Sargeras, the Lord of the Legion himself––he is also very much out there. We've only pushed them back, we've stopped another wave, but there are more out there in the Nether, in the Dark. And I knew it. I did what I could to perhaps prevent them from sniffing us out again.
"But like the Focusing Iris, they know where we are," said Kalecgos. "They know, they've been here!"
Do they?
"Yes!" the Blue Dragon barked back. "They do!"
Malygos shook his head: So little do you understand about the role of the Aspect of Magic––especially when combined with the Aspect of Earth. The Burning Legion would have never found us if all three of us were working together in concert properly like we have done so before.
"What?"
With Neltharion still not quite himself and you as the new Aspect of Magic, the Burning Legion could very well find us. Oh how I tried. Now it is up to you, Kalecgos. I do not foresee a very happy outcome.
"I don't understand," said Kalecgos.
Perhaps if you spend more time with Neltharion and not be so afraid of him, you would. He already gave you a hint on the relationship between the two of you. A relationship he and I had.
Kalecgos wagged his head again: "He still is––"
Deathwing?
"Yes."
That is why you need to spend some more time with him and see that he is not. I never truly understood my charge until the Legion came. In my own madness, I would have allowed them to return. And then I awoke from it, realizing a mistake I had made. Sometimes we must do things that the mortals do not like, but we do it for them––for their own good. Like children, Kalecgos. Like children.
Kalecgos sighed: "I try not to treat them like that. I try to give them some credit. Maybe you should give them a chance too."
Give them enough rope, they'll hang themselves.
Kalecgos growled and kicked up some loose snow on the ground.
"Maybe I should listen to Neltharion," he said. "Because at least he puts a little more faith in mortals than you."
I did mention that Neltharion is not quite all there. What Thrall freed was only the gullible, loving side of Neltharion that only has half his logic. The rest unfortunately went with Deathwing upon the evil personality's destruction. Neltharion will have to regain some of that again through trial and error, as he has done before his mind was shattered. He still needs healing, Kalecgos, and that healing will take time. Help him heal.
"Help him heal," said Kalecgos. He let loose another sigh. "Right."
As he rose back up, spreading his wings to take flight as the rosy sun peeked out from the dark purple edge of the mountains. Behind him laid the murky swamplands of the Dustwallow Marsh. So close to Mulgore and the Tauren of Thunder Bluff was the tiny island of Theramore, but up until now, no one made an attempt to take it. Over the mountains, he could see the ocean, see the island as it prepared for battle. He could see the moving black dots as Neltharion's own tiny, uncorrupted flight prepared to defend the only home they had left.
The marsh was littered with Alliance and Black Dragonflight sentinels working together to guard the three entrances to Theramore that were accessible by land. Black dragonspawn trudged along side human horsemen when two years ago they were once enemies.
Theramore Isle was unique, more so than just an independent city-state who only wished to coexist peacefully with their Horde neighbors. Jaina just wanted to make a home for the displaced people of Lordaeron away from the backstabbing politics of the Alliance, but also to show that it was possible for the battle-lines that were drawn during the First War could be erased. For that, Kalecgos admired the mortal. She had truly done something unique when she created Theramore, and now she has done something unique again. Mortals and dragons living together peacefully with some amount of new understanding for each other.
Of course this never would have happened if Neltharion had not been healed of his corruption––at least not so soon after the Cataclysm.
If Neltharion had to be killed because of Deathwing––and there was no way out beyond that, Garrosh probably would still be marching down towards Theramore, and stolen the Iris. Which would lead Kalecgos once more back to Jaina. Deathwing's own death would not have stopped this battle, but Neltharion's redemption is making the outcome of this battle much different.
But he is here, and they are coming. Kalecgos knew that this was going to be a one-sided fight, even with Neltharion on defense. This was going to be one sided. Now there were two Aspects defending Theramore, the Horde had no hope in taking it at all.
Kalecgos' ears twitched as he saw a light upon the northern horizon. A tingle rushed up his spiked scales, making them stand on end as he took to the sky.
You wonder why I did what I did? What I mean by the mortals hanging themselves with the rope we lend them?
Kalecgos' flight path took him over the marsh, the brown swamp and the fog still cleaning tightly to the base of the trees. Right at the fold of the edge, where the long, winding, twisting briar vines were the thickest was a glow of blue-white. A dome spread across the ground and arched its way upward. Spilling out were the energies of the Twisting Nether, a field of black and stars and shifting hues of blue and purple. Then out came troops, orcs, trolls, goblins, tauren, blood elves, and undead humans. Engines of war followed behind them, their heavy footsteps causing the ground to tremble beneath them.
That is what I meant.
Already, the Black Dragonflight sprung from the marsh, pointing their guns and staves right at the army, followed by their Alliance comrades. There, near the front, Kalecgos spied Garrosh Hellscream with his honor guards. Then, at the last of this great host had filed out of the portal, it closed. Wind sucked up around where the portal stood, and the army ducked down as the shockwave rolled across the marsh, knocking back the dragonspawn and Alliance soldiers. Kalecgos saw shimmering cloaks of light around the Horde forces, mages protecting them from the blast of the closing portal.
The dragonspawn rose to their feet, shaking from the blast, some of them reaching down to the human solders to check upon them. Some rose back up, some did not.
But then came the gun fire and the roars of war. The Horde slaughtered them with little thought.
"I have to warn Jaina," said Kalecgos.
As he flew off towards Theramore, the Horde began its push through the marsh.