XV
He was almost grateful that he could feel pain again. His whole body throbbed and ached as he started to wiggle. Wings splayed out everywhere, tattered on the edges from the blast and the fall. Kalecgos wiggled a talon and then the tip of his tail. His head pounded. He managed to raise a paw up, planting it upon the ground.
This is gonna hurt...
The Blue Dragon gripped the ground and hefted himself up. He let loose a bark, a shock a pain raced up his spine.
Yup, I was right!
Kalecgos panted, his jaw hanging loose and his purple tongue rolling out between his fangs. He fumbled back, his joints shaking, weakened by the fall. His frilled ears flicked as he shook his head. He fanned his right wing, wincing as it sent another shock of pain. Then, he fanned the left, though grateful it did not hurt as much as the right. He took in a deep breath and dragged his hind legs up, agonizingly trying lift his blue bulk out of the crater his fall had created and panted all the way. Finally, he was to his feet, stumbling only slightly to his side. The blood rushed quickly into his head, his eyes suddenly blinded by flashes of blue, yellow, and white. The Spell-Weaver blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, though it only made his head swim even more. As his vision slowly cleared, it finally came into view for him––there was no more Theramore. Kalecgos quickly fumbled over the hill he landed upon and his head roved around at the scene. The island was gone! All that seemed to be left was a very thin atoll, a sand bar that outlined where the island used to be, broken stone bridges that once lead into the island itself, and a hole under the sea––ten miles in diameter.
There was nothing left, no buildings, no banners, not even the ships that once docked in the harbor.
"Oh––damn it," Kalecgos said, his mind working in disbelief to what his eyes perceived.
He never knew that the mana bomb would have been that powerful.
Kalecgos lowered, his head, his mind racing back to that moment when it exploded. He recalled Neltharion diving down for it, his black claws outstretched to catch it. But the ground was racing to fast up at him. Kalecgos saw the Black Aspect hesitating for a moment, knowing that even if he did succeed in catching it before it went off, he could not right himself up in time. Neltharion would have crashed into Theramore and demolished it under his own gargantuan weight, clearly killing anyone beneath it. It was the bomb or his own fall. There was no way that Neltharion could ever save it. Though he tried. Kalecgos closed his eyes.
"He tired," the Blue Dragon said. "He tried. But he couldn't. He couldn't do it. But he tried. Neltharion––I'm sorry. I tried too. And I failed too." He sniffed. "I failed Jaina."
Then, his mind replayed the blast. Everything went white. The sphere that crew out from the bomb swallowed Neltharion whole. Then, Kalecgos could not remember falling. He could not remember being knocked out of the sky or even colliding with the ground. All he could remember was Neltharion vanishing in the blinding white light.
Nothing more.
"Neltharion," he said. "Neltharion!"
He paused when he saw a flash of a lightning bolt striking the center of the water that now filled the crater. Flashes of light speckled the area, blotches of dark like horrible bruises pulsed above the point of the bomb's explosion. He saw stars in those blotches of darkness, strange worlds, other realities, other universes opening up before his eyes. Then, as soon as they were there, they vanished. The bomb's power rippled even after it's detonation, tearing away the fabric of reality itself, creating unstable vortexes, opening and closing like winking eyes over what used to be Theramore.
"Malygos," Kalecgos said. "It is an amazing feat of magic. For all the horrible things it did, it is amazing."
There was silence.
"Malygos?"
Another bolt struck the water.
"Malygos?"
Kalecgos swung his head around, searching for the ghostly apparition of his predecessor now mentor. Malygos was no where to be found. Kalecgos' eyes widened even more, the realization striking him much like the lightning bolts striking the water's surface.
"Oh no," he said. "The bomb's effect. Spirit damage. Malygos! It––rebuked you." The dragon settled upon his haunches, his head bowed again in defeat, his shoulders slumped. "You were right, you both were right. How stupid was I? Move the Focusing Iris, that's what I did! I moved it and Garrosh got a hold of it––did this! This––this is my fault. This is all my fault. You're right, Neltharion, Malygos. I shouldn't have moved it. Now, Jaina's home's been destroyed and the people––the people––what the hell kind of Aspect am I if I can't do my duty of protecting the people? Isn't that what and Aspect was supposed to be? What we were supposed to do? Protect them? And I couldn't. I couldn't do any of it." He lifted his head up. "But you tried to, Neltharion. And all because of what I did. Right now, I think I suck at being an Aspect more than you do, Neltharion." Kalecgos cast his gaze skyward. "Norgannon, why did you choose me? Look at all the good it did! I'm sorry, Jaina. This shouldn't have happened, but I let it. It's my fault, and I'm sorry."
He stepped off of hill, spreading his wings for a flight. Kalecgos flew over the crater, flying over the center and looking down the deep indigo maw filled with sea water. The crater's floor had collapsed in on itself, and the sea water filled the cavern tunnels underneath. The Blue Dragon tilted his wings, gliding lazily over the crater. He could see some faint outlines of buildings, houses, and Proudmoore Manor all crumbled down inside the chamber. He could also see the people, some who had not crumbled, frozen forever in an unending scream of terror, preserved. Then, he sensed a flick of energy sparkling right at the corner of his eye.
The Focusing Iris!
Kalecgos swung around the tattered beach, sensing the glow of the Iris growing larger. Then, he spied someone there, a human, with silver hair and tattered, dirt-covered mage robes.
No, that can't be, that can't be. Is it? Jaina?
The mana bomb had flattened much of the woods that blanketed the marsh. The marsh itself was now covered in lines of naked trees, leaves stripped from their trunks. The ground looked strangely dry. Cracks lined the around, opening up to release stinking sulfuric gases from the caverns below. He spied the dull glow of magma in the cracks. The dragon found a perfect, open place to land and slowly approached the human.
"Jaina?" he said.
The human woman looked up, tears streaming down her pale face. Her eyes glowed eerily blue white. A single lock of gold still shined in the front of her fringe, framed by the silver hair. At her feet were the bodies of orcs, burned, frozen, shattered into arcane crystals. And in her hands was a glass lens, the Focusing Iris. The artifact shrank itself to be easily carried in her hand.
"Kalec," she said.
"Jaina, are you alright?" asked Kalecgos. The dragon's form shifted into his half-elven disguise and he held out a hand. "Jaina?"
"It's all gone," she said, turning stiffly back at the crater that was left of her home. "Everything. Pained, Kinndy––Rhonin. Even Rhonin! He pushed me through the portal and that was the last I saw of him." She wiped her nose upon her sleeve. Her lips trembled. "Gone."
"I––I know," he said. "Jaina, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"No, this is my fault," said Jaina. "Why did he do it? Why did he push me through that portal." She let the Iris drop from her hand and fell to her knees in a sob. "This is my fault! I allowed this to happen. I was responsible for this."
"No," said Kalecgos as he knelt down to her. "This my fault. I––Neltharion was right, Jaina! He had been right! I should never moved the Focusing Iris from the Nexus. It was so stupid of me to do it. I thought what I was doing was to safeguard it, and I was wrong." He sighed as he looked back at the sunken crater. "Even Malygos agreed with Neltharion. And now, he's gone."
"Malygos?" asked Jaina. "Gone? I mean he's a ghost––"
"No," said Kalecgos. "I mean the mana bomb's effects on spirits––ghosts––it rebuked him. I don't sense him anymore." Then, he lifted back upon his feet and stared out into the ocean. "In fact, I don't sense Neltharion either."
"Neltharion," said Jaina. Her face bunched up as her skin flushed, her sorrow becoming anger. "Those creatures said Garrosh killed him with the mana bomb! That's what this was about, he wanted Neltharion to be right at the blast point. Now, even Neltharion is dead."
"Dead?" Kalecgos asked. "What?"
"That is what I heard," said Jaina, coming to her feet. She pulled back silver and gold locks from her face. "He's dead. He died––trying to save my city."
Kalecgos shook his head, running a hand through his blue hair.
"I'm having a hard time believing that he died," he said. "This is a dragon who can swim right down to the core, survive all that pressure that would crush any normal dragon, and a mana bomb is what does him in?"
Jaina breathed, her head bowed, staring blankly at the ground.
"Well, I don't know where he is. He hasn't shown up since Theramore's destruction. But you survived."
"I wasn't as close to the bomb as he was," said Kalecgos. He knelt back down, his hand reaching out for the Focusing Iris. Then, Jaina lifted her foot up and stepped upon it, putting herself between him and the artifact. "Jaina, I need to take that back with me!"
"No," said Jaina. "I need it."
She leaned down to pick it up and plopped it into the folds of her robes.
"To do what?" Kalecgos asked.
"What do you think?" she asked, her eyes snapped up at him, glowing feverishly.
Kalecgos swallowed and his brow became furrowed.
"No," he said. "I know that you think you need to take some sort of action, but whatever it is you're planning, that isn't the way!"
"Are you saying that Garrosh Hellscream should just go on unpunished for this atrocity?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying."
"Then what is it?" she asked, her eyes focusing hard upon the Aspect of Magic. "Tell me, in your infinite wisdom, Spell-Weaver, what are you saying? Educate me!"
"What I am saying is we need to take some time away from all of this," Kalecgos said. "I––I don't know what sort of damage the bomb has done to you. The arcane radiation from it, it did something to you––you need medical attention. A healer, something. Then, when you're well, when your head is cleared, we can return––we can act with proper action––not––not vengeance."
"There is no we, Kalec," said Jaina, holding her hand up. "There is only me, my responsibility to the lives that gave themselves to protect my kingdom––who's lives were thrown away so vainly all because of Garrosh's pigheaded whims of conquest!" Her face twisted in her anguish. "Someone must answer for this! It will be Garrosh!" She swung around to leer over the destroyed island, the view only fueling her boiling rage. Her chest tightened and her fists curled. "How could I have been so blind? Why did I even think there could have been peace between me and those savages? Why? I was so naïve. I was so ignorant." Her head bowed again, the silvery locks falling into her face. "My father was right about them." More tears flowed. "My father. Oh, how I tried to prove him wrong when he was right all along. And I didn't listen and he died––he died and I let him die at the hands of the Horde––because I believed he was wrong! But he was right." She closed her eyes. "I was a stupid, stupid child." Then, she shifted back to Kalecgos. "My eyes have been opened. Garrosh will never do anything like this ever again! I won't let it!"
"Jaina!" called Kalecgos as she raised her hand, vanishing at a flash of a light. "Jaina, no! No. Don't do it, don't walk down this path! Jaina!"
He fell to his knees again, and then to his hands.
"Malygos," he said. "Malygos. I'm sorry. Jaina, I'm sorry. Neltharion––oh Neltharion." He closed his eyes, and a single tear fell. "Neltharion. I hope you aren't dead, but I fear what you might do once you see what has become of your home." Kalecgos looked up at the sky, noting the setting sun. "I fear it. Malygos is gone. And Calia? Where is she? Is she gone too? Is she dead. Oh, woe upon this world if she is dead and you discover that. The Cataclysm would be nothing compared to what you'd do to the Horde if you discover Calia is dead. Maybe I can find her." He sighed. "The Focusing Iris will have to wait. This takes immediate precedence."
Then, he shifted back into his dragon form and spread his wings to take flight. Kalecgos started his scan over the battered Dustwallow Marsh.
§§§
Thrall gripped his chest, falling to his knees. He felt as if someone just ripped his heart out. He looked up to Aggra, breathing heavily.
"My love," she said. "What has happened?"
"Something horrible," he replied. "Neltharion. I can't sense Neltharion."
Aggra knelt to him, taking hold of his green, muscular arm and slowly eased him back to his feet. Thrall, pulled his hood back, smoothing his black hair away from his face. He walked towards a rock face and placed his hand upon its cool surface. The palm of his hand began to ache, spreading through the joints. Thrall pulled it back and peered down upon his hand with confusion flashing in his blue eyes. His thick hand curled into a fist as he felt the muscles twitched painfully.
"I sense the elements," he said. "I hear a discord in the rock. The song––is tainted by a sour cord. It comes from Theramore."
"Some of the shamans who returned to us from the Northwatch siege," began Aggra. "They are still concerned over the Molten Giants."
"This has nothing to do with Molten Giants," said Thrall. "This is worse." He idly studied his surroundings. All around him were members of the Earthen Ring, all exhausted again with their attempts at settling the elemental forces that still raged on. It was much easier with the help of the Earth-Warder, however, he had returned to Theramore. Neltharion could not be trusted to stay put with the Earthen-Ring for long––all because he held his wife in higher regard than his charge. The last time they met, they parted rather bitterly. Now, he could feel that pain all over again. "This feels wrong. What has happened to him?"
"Go'el," began Aggra. "The Horde marches upon his home, he is angry because of it."
"He blames me for it," said Thrall. "I gave the Horde what they wanted. I gave them a leader that they could be proud of." He frowned. "I never felt so encumbered by something I wanted so much to create. It brought me no end of frustration. Being this––coming to my true calling, I could at last free myself. But Neltharion." He sighed. "He thinks I don't take him seriously. He thinks that I want to let Garrosh have his children as slaves. I don't. But––striking back the way he wanted it––if he so desperately wanted to do so, he would have already done it. Strike the Horde, force the Dragonmaw to relinquish his children to him" His eyes fell to Aggra. "And you know why he hasn't? He is afraid of himself."
"Can you blame him?" asked Aggra. "With the power that he has. The Earth-Warder fights himself, fights that unyielding strength he possesses."
"There are times where I wonder if Neltharion is too powerful for his own good," said Thrall. "He held back at the volcano and he holds back now. Afraid of what everyone might think. If he were to even attempt to save his children now, the whole world would see him once again as Deathwing––all because he used such force. However, Deathwing, before the Cataclysm––I have heard he was all about subtlety. He withheld himself out of necessity, using his vast intellect to spin his web, play his pawns right where he wants them. Neltharion lacks that. Neltharion is all about force and he scares himself because of it. But he's right. He feels like I'm abandoning him in his time of need when we've needed him, he was there for us. If my children were slaves, would I not want to do anything within my power to rescue them? Yet, he has the power to free them––but he won't use it because it would damage his appearance, make more enemies than friends." Thrall laid his hand upon the rock once more. "Now, I can't feel him anymore. What has happened, Neltharion?"
A shadow fell upon him and he felt the wind rush up behind him. Thrall turned to see a great black dragon land, folding its wings up. For a moment, there was hesitation among the Earthen-Ring, shamans preparing defensive spells against this dragon. Thrall raced over, holding his hands up to halt them. Then, he paused, noting that this dragon was not Neltharion. It was younger, only half grown, fiery eyes and straight, bone-colored horns. Its scales were the color of midnight, but not the bluish hue of obsidian glass that Neltharion held. Nor was its scales splitting in a few places to reveal its molten heart. The dragon dipped its head down and off from its shoulders came a single tauren. Thrall's eyes lit up, recognizing the tauren who rode upon the dragon's back.
"Go'el!" he called.
"Kador Cloudsong!" Thrall said.
Then, the dragon's form shifted, shrinking down until it was now a tall, black-furred tauren. Kador dipped his head to the dragon now turned into a tauren.
"This is Dannathion," he said. "Danny for short. The Worldmender sent him to Thunder Bluff as a token of peace between us."
"He did?" Thrall asked, rather shocked by this move from Neltharion. He turned to Danny and dipped his head. "Welcome, Danny."
"Thank you, World Shaman whom my lord calls brother," said Danny. "I flew Kador here as fast as my wings could carry both of us. And we come with grave news."
"What do you bring?" Aggra asked.
"You've no doubt heard of the Molten Giants?" Danny asked.
"Yes, we were informed," said Thrall. "I am most furious by this transgression and Garrosh's cheap method of victory."
"The cheapness does not end there," said Danny.
Kador nodded: "Garrosh––Garrosh used a mana bomb on Theramore."
"He what?" Thrall asked, his knees feeling weak.
"The High Chieftain was there to witness it," said Kador. "Then, he sent a Longwalker to Thunder Bluff to fetch Danny and I, with great apologies to Danny."
"I do not blame Chieftain Baine Bloodhoof for this atrocity," said Danny. "I know he had no part in it. He was––just another chess piece in Garrosh's game. We were told that Lord Neltharion attempted to end the fight himself––peacefully."
"How?" Aggra asked.
"He demanded Garrosh's surrender," said Danny. "And only Garrosh's surrender. Neltharion was more than willing to let the Horde return home safely and without any injury or death. The Earth-Warder knew that Garrosh was the sole perpetrator of everything that had happened. His aims were only for the Warchief and no one else. But Garrosh did not back down, even in the claws of my lord. Not even death would have stopped the bomb from going off. Neltharion gave up and let him go––only to fly up with the aid of Kalecgos the Spell-Weaver to stop the airship from dropping the bomb. They failed. The Longwalker said that Neltharion dove for the bomb, he tried to catch it, tried to stop it. He couldn't. The bomb went off and Neltharion vanished in the blaze."
"Vanished!" Thrall said, his mouth wide like a suffocating fish on the beach. "Garrosh––Garrosh killed Neltharion?"
"We don't know," said Kador. "But the song, the song has been silenced. The song started to sing when you freed the Worldmender from the Destroyer. Now, it's gone. Baine––Baine was so––he cried. And Vol'jin––"
"I never knew that the Troll Chieftain could mourn for my lord," said Danny. "Or anyone––"
"Vol'jin has a good heart," said Thrall. "He is not like most of his kind. I've told him a lot about Neltharion, the change that I helped him go through. He trusts my word."
"Garrosh has done a terrible thing!" said Kador. "This victory over Theramore. It's a sham. The entire 7th Legion, Ranger General Vereesa, Archmage Rhonin Redhair––Shandris Feathermoon––and Jaina Proudmoore––"
"Jaina?" asked Thrall. "What happened to her?"
"Perished," said Kador. "All of them."
Their news called a gathering of many of the Earthen-Ring's members. Thrall glanced around to all of them, both Horde and Alliance races alike. He spied a goblin shaking his head in dismay, a troll male opening his arms to embrace a softly sobbing Draenei female but all the while holding a visage of fury. Aggra leaned into Thrall's shoulder, holding his hand tightly.
"And Theramore?" Thrall said. "What does it look like?"
"Nothing is left," said Danny. "I flew over it when we heard the news. A crater filled with water, collapsed upon the deep caverns Neltharion carved during his two years there. My home, orc, Garrosh destroyed my home!"
"I am truly sorry for what has happened," said Thrall as he placed a hand upon the disguised dragon's shoulder. "Believe me when I say it."
"I cannot sense Serinar or Ruthian," said Danny. "Nor can I sense Lady Calia. And my lord does not heed my calls for him. He's vanished––gone with the blast. Garrosh rejoices in the notion that he has slain the Earth-Warder and his Kor'kron celebrate with him. My home. We were the only purified black dragons left, Thrall. We no longer mean the world harm. But––"
"My heart aches as much as yours," said Thrall. "What Garrosh has done hurts us all." He took in a breath. "I do not want to believe that Neltharion is dead. Though, he may be severely injured. Perhaps the mana bomb has some sort of adverse effect upon him, its energies are blocking him from your senses. I do not know. But Jaina. She was there to help me when I needed it––when I first created the New Horde. It would not exist today without her help, now look at how it repays her."
"Former Warchief Thrall," began Kador. "Garrosh wants nothing more than genocide upon the Alliance. He wishes to wipe all traces of it from Kalimdor. He now sends Horde ships to form a tight circle around the entire continent, on all shores, even the west coast. No aid will come to Teldrassil or Feathermoon, or anywhere else. He'll starve them if he has to. He will not even allow them to escape, to seek refuge in Northrend or the Eastern Kingdoms. He wants them all prime for the slaughter. However, there is discontent among the Horde. Many agree that this dark path will only lead to the Horde's ruin. We will all suffer because of Garrosh's actions. Garrosh's Dark Shaman have the power to wield the might of the Earth-Warder himself. They have been trained in his skills, his movements all because those shamans come from the Twilight Hammer."
"The Twilight Hammer?" Thrall asked, his brow raising upon this news.
"Kador told me what he saw," said Danny. "He said he saw an image of Neltharion––no––it didn't look like he does now––it looked like––"
"Deathwing," said Kador. "I saw an image of Deathwing over the Dark Shaman. It was as if they manifested him for their purpose to call upon the Molten Giants. It was only with the help of myself, two Alliance shamans, and Vol'jin's troll shamans that called the Worldmender to put a stop to it before the giants became too uncontrollable. But not before many Horde had been slain by them––" He broke off to face the Alliance Earthen-Ring shamans. "As well as Alliance. Both our peoples died at Northwatch at the careless hands of Garrosh Hellscream."
Thrall sighed.
"You're not proposing we stop all our efforts in mending the world to go fight a war?" asked Nobundo. "We've come so far now."
"And let Garrosh enslave more giants?" asked Thrall. "Or other elementals that could finish what Deathwing started? This has gone beyond the war between the Alliance and the Horde. Garrosh will undo everything––"
"He could attack the World Tree!" Thrall heard a tauren call. "What's to stop him from using the Well's energies for his purposes? And when Nordrassil falls..."
"The Burning Legion," said Danny. "Will return. The Aspect of Dreams, Ysera––she is still at the Tree now. Garrosh would attack her just as he attacked Neltharion."
Then, Muln Earthfury stepped forward and the crowd parted.
"I am deeply saddened by this news," he said. "Saddened, and enraged at the same time. But we cannot go marching off and leave all our tasks unfinished just to rebuke Garrosh. Yes, I do agree that even the World Tree could be in danger, but we must keep at our task here as well. Just as the Cenarion Circle and the Aspect of Dreams must keep at theirs. They will protect Nordrassil from any attack, that includes Garrosh. Go'el, it was you who chose Garrosh to take your place as Warchief of the Horde. And we all know of your friendship with Lady Jaina Proudmoore and your efforts of keeping the peace between Theramore and Orgrimmar. If you leave, we will not stop you. We all are here because we all heard the call. If you no longer hear that call, then you may go with our blessing."
Thrall's heart was heavy and torn. A part of him still longed to don the armor of Doomhammer, pick up his hammer, and march on to Orgrimmar. Grom Hellscream's son had to be punished for what he had done. And this was his responsibility because he was the one who chose Garrosh. Theramore's destruction was as much his fault as it was Garrosh's. Then, Thrall reached out to touch the rock again, once more feeling that stinging pain.
"I hear another's call," he said. "The Earth-Warder. I can feel his pain in the rock. The piece that connects me to him, I felt it ache in my heart." He looked to Danny. "I do believe Neltharion is alive, but in pain––injured like I said. I must go to him."
"If the Earth-Warder beckons you," said Muln. "Then go. Help him so that his song may once more sing out through the rock again and the elementals once again be calm in its soothing note."
Thrall walked over to the reddish and brown furred tauren, clapping his hand upon his shoulder.
"Thank you, my friend," he said. He turned to Kador and Danny, both showing a brighter face. Danny stepped back to return to his true form. The dragon lowered upon his belly, allowing the tauren and the orc to mount up between his triangular shoulder blades.
"I fly as fast as I can," said Danny as he spread his wings.
"My love," said Aggra. "Be careful!"
Thrall raised his hand to her and nodded in parting. Then, in a rush of wind, the black dragon kicked off the ground and launched into the air, flapping his wings quickly to gain speed. Thrall had much to think about as he rode upon the dragon's back to Dustwallow Marsh. He thought about what he could say to Neltharion now after the destruction of his home. Thrall had no doubt in his mind that once Neltharion awakens from whatever injury he suffered from his failed attempt at protecting Theramore, he would be grief-stricken––enraged––filled with fury, sorrow, and vengeance. Thrall knew very well of those emotions. He had lived them himself and he had seen another Aspect fall to the same emotions. Neltharion's sister, Queen Alexstrasza the Life-Binder. Thrall was able to calm her, to bring her to focus upon a task that brought the four Aspects and himself together in order to face. Without it, he would have never been able to stop the Father, nor would he had been able to help Neltharion rid himself of Deathwing. Now, he hope similar words would heal whatever wounds Neltharion had recieved after this ordeal, both emotional and physical.
However, still, their relationship was becoming strained, it did not leave on a happy note last time. Neltharion was already seeing blood red when he heard Garrosh's name. Thrall's heart sank when he realized that this may have been the final straw that broke the Earth-Warder's patience. If Neltharion was still alive, and after he had healed, he would be out for vengeance, and Orgrimmar would be in his sights. Thrall pressed his lips together. This was no longer a race to perhaps heal him, this was a race to save his Horde––not only from Garrosh's actions, but from a raging mad Earth-Warder out for vengeance.
Thrall's eyes lit up. That was the pain he felt through the rock.
Vengeance.