Thanks all for the reviews over the last two weeks. The Siege continues! R&R, and enjoy! ~F
Chapter 133
Fire and Shadow
Voldemort was advancing with his clan, enshrouded by their tall shields as they withstood the arrows and rocks from the battlements above. While the Blackrock Clan took the northern parapet, it was their job to devastate the southern, clearing the line of fire for the other clans to push forward to the gate, where the massive demon hammered away at the door to the fortress.
As they lined up in their positions, in range of the defenders atop the walls, the shield-bearers quickly broke open, allowing the Death Knights clear sight upward. Spells of death, as well as other dire magic flew upward, striking many of the archers and stone throwers dead, or else dragging them screaming over the edge to their bone shattering doom.
Immediately afterward, a trio of Fel drakes strafed the wall top, the green fire carving lines across the entire wall, and sending up a torrent of screams.
The Blightbringers didn't have time to admire the effect of the wall being ablaze, as shortly later, a group of scaled serpent-people rose up out of a hole in the side of the wall, hissing and shrieking as they brandished their coral weaponry at the advancing army.
"Forward! Destroy them all!" Voldemort shouted, and the contingent led by Bellatrix charged in obediently, the banshee screaming in fury as she launched into the fray.
The necrolytes halted well away from the lines quickly forming of their Death Knights and the enemy, turning to the corpses littering the causeway all around them. Bodies of former ally and foe alike rose at their chanting spells, grasping the weapons that they wielded in life, and charging the snake-men with silent screams.
Blightbringer grew warm in Voldemort's hand, and he stepped forward, allowing the necromantic energies to flow through him, before a massive serpent towered over him. The Death Knight ducked the first over swing and stabbed upward, impaling the creature through the chest.
The beast collapsed, but not for long. Within moments it rose once more, mouth hanging open as it hissed lowly, before turning on its former allies and stabbing a female creature through the elongated tail.
More of the creatures started to emerge from the hole, and Voldemort knew that this would become a thorn in their side if not rectified before they pushed onward. A trebuchet snapped in the distance, the boulder sailing through the air toward them. It was far short of its intended target, but large and heavy enough for Voldemort's purpose.
Aiming his runeblade at the oncoming rock, he intoned his death magic, and conjured a ghostly hand into existence, to grasp the boulder and halt it in its path. Turning swiftly, Voldemort swung, redirecting the rock and slamming it down into the hole where the Naga were swarming.
The torrent of hissing, coupled with the crushing of bones from the now plugged fissure was delightful to the Death Knight's ears. Without any further reinforcements, those Naga that were left on the surface were cut down quickly, leaving nothing on the ground for the Blightbringer Clan to contend with.
Luckily, progress was being made, and the gate shuddered under the force of the Pit Lord hammering away at it. Massive cracks were appearing on the enchanted stone, slowly giving way. Meanwhile, massive ladders were being hauled up to allow other clans to scale he walls of the Temple, and start engaging Illidan's forces on the ramparts.
"Raise their dead, bolster our forces, and prepare to charge when the gates are broken," Voldemort ordered, setting his clan to work, and kept his attention on those around them, monitoring the front lines from his vantage near to the southern side of the narrow channel into the main courtyard of the Temple.
Another blast of horns, pipes, and drums tore Voldemort attention back to their command hill. More banners had lifted, ordering the respective clans of the Bonechewers, Amani Trolls, and Fel Centaur forward into the battlefield.
The Death Knight raised an eyebrow, surprised that the Centaur, and apparently the Veela as well, had splintered off and formed their own clans, rather than continuing to be affiliated solely with the Stormreavers. It was a testimony to how large their forces had become, including their joined forces that they had found on Azeroth and here in Outland.
He had heard rumors that even the Veela had found familiar creatures to them, and had already started making inroads to uniting their people in the Dark Horde, but the Death Knight had been too consumed with his own orders for the Outland campaign to care more than that.
Edgrain arrived nearby with his Centaur, all clad in heavy armor and carrying long pikes to compliment their powerful running potential. "When the gates fall, follow in the wake of our undead minions," Voldemort instructed, glad that the leader of the Fel Centaur clan was intelligent enough to see the usefulness of strategy. Some of the creatures, more especially those that had been recruited from Azeroth, were incredibly dimwitted.
There was little time to dwell on such musings, however, as with an earth-shattering crash, the gate buckled under the brunt of the Pit Lord's attacks. Stronger than any battering ram, the demon had literally knocked the door down, and stone rained from the ruined barrier as the four-legged creature pushed its way through, directly into the line of fire from the Illidari's own siege weapons.
Angular catapults launched massive blades, as well as exploding canisters, most of them striking the Pit Lord full in the face and chest, while a few others arced over toward the reserves out by the command post.
Voldemort paid little heed to those projectiles that sailed over them. If Nobu'tan and his closer agents couldn't protect themselves from such slow and telegraphed attacks, then they deserved to die. Their forces on the front lines had other things to contend with, even as the Demon staggered back, before bellowing a challenge in his infernal language and stomping forward into the courtyard. Fel orcs and Blood Elves bearing the Illidari colors charged out of the gates, ready to try and drive the armies of the Dark Horde back.
As planned, Voldemort raised his runeblade, ordering his clan to send their undead minions forward, and the Fel Centaur charged right after. The dead absorbed the initial strike of the enemy forces, allowing the galloping, demonic horsemen to drive many of their lances through the Illidari forces.
On the far side of the narrow inlet, the Balefire and Blackrock clans were contending with the same influx of enemy warriors, supported behind them by the Bonechewers.
"Forward!" Voldemort commanded, sending his Death Knights to engage those that survived the Fel Centaur's charge. Axes flew over their heads into enemy ranks, and Voldemort glanced back to see the Trolls under War Master Voone taking up a supportive position, their Hex Priests chanting up a storm of magic to bolster those clans ahead of them and mend the wounds of their allies.
They broke through the counterattack quickly, pushing into the wake of the Pit Lord, even as the beast shattered a pair of the Illidari's siege engines, and started up to the doors of the Temple itself.
But the Pit Lord's advance was halted, as a blue streak shot down from above, crashing with tremendous force into the ground before the Temple. An Abyssal, the greater form of the Infernal, rose up from the crater, towering over all those in the Courtyard, barring Magtheridon himself, and roared its mindless speech.
Voldemort knew that it was wisest to allow the demons to contend with each other, and focused on establishing their forward outpost, alongside the other clan leaders for the front line assault groups, and clearing the courtyard of the remaining Netherdrake riders.
Dragonmaw Feldrake riders swooped low, scorching the ground and trying to drive away the enemy flyers, but they were hard pressed to lure the Illidari warriors into open combat in the air. The superiority of the Fel-empowered drakes was clear, and rather than lose in the air, the Illidari were trying to use their air forces to bottleneck the advancing Dark Horde ground forces instead.
Another pipe off to the right of their entrance issued forth more Naga from the depths below the temple, the creatures marshalling another attempt to hold off the advancing army. "We'll take the snake-men," Voldmort told the other leaders, "deal with those drakes, and get some temporary defenses in place so the others can advance in out wake."
The Blightbringer Clan turned and marched toward the sewer pipe, and Voldemort drew Apocalypse to join his runeblade in duel-handed combat. The largest of the Naga seemed to be their leader, and it was he that the Death Knight would personally target to shatter their will to fight.
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There was a tremendous explosion as Draco's spell was intercepted by the two remaining Verdant Spheres hovering around Kael'thas. Jaina had to shield her eyes from the flash of light, but the moment it dimmed, she spotted the Elf Prince, crumpled at the foot of the far wall, apparently having been thrown there by the force behind the explosion.
Draco seemed drained slightly, the magic required for that powerful, and deadly, spell taxing him, but Kael'thas was not finished yet.
The Prince was already shakily getting back to his feet, muttering to himself in his insanity. He looked up at them, hatred and rage burning in his eyes, and screamed at them, "I have not come this far to be stopped! The future I have planned will not be jeopardized!"
Kael'thas threw his arms upward, drawing in the ambient magic that this ship had been siphoning off from the Netherstorm. Flares of Void, Arcane, and Fel magic sparked around the room as the Elf greedily drank of all their power, rising into the air as he was buoyed by pure magic.
As his power surged, the air seemed to compress around him, before exploding outward, shattering the crystal and glass window at the head of the floating fortress, revealing a massive expanse of nothing beyond them.
Kael'thas laughed, even as he floated down to the ground, restored and empowered, arcane magic flaring off of him well beyond what Jaina had expected for them to face. "Now you will taste true power!" Kael roared, focusing all his anger on Draco, and firing off missiles of magic at the warlock.
The wooden wand that Draco used whipped about in a frenzy, slapping the missiles out of the air as they approached him, but the warlock was quickly driven backward. Jaina would have lent her aid, but the Elves outside the chamber had redoubled their efforts to destroy the ice barriers, and she had to concentrate to maintain both simultaneously and still prepare to open portals for them to escape. Permitting Kael's warriors entrance to the room would spell defeat of their entire operation, as would her failure to have portals ready as soon as the Prince was defeated.
She hoped that Shaw and the others would do everything they could to aid Draco, but for her part she could only watch at the sidelines as the battle raged.
Draco was falling back, sending out attack spells less often, and relying heavily on shields and other protective spells to endure Kael's empowered assault. Fortunately, Shaw was not standing by idle while the two spellcasters went head to head. SI:7 agents were moving around the room, quickly encircling Kael'thas while the mad mage focused solely on Draco, and each agent was holding some manner of magical item.
Jaina could not tell from her vantage, but they seemed to be mirrors of some sort. "Draco!" Shaw called, once they were in place, and the warlock turned to look. Whatever the Spymaster was implying, Draco seemed to understand, as he split his attention between maintaining his shields, and funneling magic out to the mirrors.
At first, Jaina was concerned that Draco would be weakening himself, sapping all the magic he needed to protect himself from Kael, but after a moment she understood. The warlock was leeching magic from each of the Blood Elf's attacks, strategically managing the power into feeding his shields, and sending off the rest to power the array of mirrors.
Kael was too far gone to even notice, and was set in crushing the major threat to himself personally to even gauge what was going on around him. It saddened Jaina to see Kael like this, as she still remembered the bright and cheerful Archmage from what felt like a lifetime ago.
Soon the mirrors were charged, and hummed with the magic that Draco had fed into them, which prompted the agents to direct the mirror at Kael'thas directly. The next spell that the Prince fired, Draco dodged completely, opening the window for him to shift to attacking.
What even Jaina did not expect, was for his jet of magical light to be copied and fired from every mirror that the SI:7 agents held. Kael recognized the threat immediately, and erected a powerful mana shield, but he was thrown onto his back foot instantly, and the barrage of spells from all sides meant that he couldn't try to dodge like Draco had at the crucial moment.
As power as Kael's magic had spiked when he absorbed energy from the collected power his elves had gathered, it drained nearly as quickly as the spells pummeled his shield. Draco alternated his warlock abilities with the strange magic he could sling from the wooden wand, constantly mixing up what he was firing so that there was no discernible pattern in his attacks.
Finally, Draco gathered a portion of magic, unleashing his vibrant green spell once more, and the deadly beam struck Kael's shield from all sides, resulting in a massive explosion of magic, throwing the elf back to the very edge of the shattered window.
"For… Quel'thalas!" Kael shouted, still refusing to surrender or stop, trying to rise again and keep fighting.
Draco seemed almost tired as he fired another spell, knocking the Elf Prince backward and out of the hole in the fortress. Kael'thas toppled out of sight, and presumably to his death in the wheeling chaos of nothing that constituted the Nether.
They waited a few moments, just to make sure that the fight was indeed over, and finally Matthias nodded. "It is finished. The power of the Blood Elves is broken with the loss of their leaders." He said, turning to Jaina, "We can escape now, back to the ground outside to regroup with our assault force..."
Gladly, Jaina released her hold on the ice walls, and focused on ripping open portals enough for their force to escape, even as the fortress started to tilt sideways. The damage that the mortars outside, coupled with the steep loss of power because of Kael's actions, likely had destabilized whatever was holding these floating stronghold in the air, and they were falling.
The strike force started running through the portal, and Jaina waited for the last one to pass before attempting to enter the portal herself. The ice walls shattered at the last moment, and the vengeful Blood Elves got a full look of the disaster that had befallen their leadership as Jaina closed her portals behind her.
Turning to look at the fortress from outside, Jaina was surprised to see how heavily damaged it was from the shelling that the dwarven mortars had given it. By and large they hadn't felt the concussive blasts until the very end. The fires spread across the lower parts of the fortress seemed to indicate something important was damaged.
The Blood Elf forces scattered, abandoning the battle even as the crystal fortress started to split apart and fall into the Nether.
"We're done here," Matthias said, rallying their forces and gesturing for their mages to start opening more portals to take them all back to Stormwind. Jaina looked back to see the fortress explode, likely killing many of the Elves still trapped inside.
If it had been up to Jaina, she would have never allowed such a situation for the Elves of Quel'thalas to feel the need to leave the Alliance. It was difficult to think of how different things could have been if Kael and his elves had been treated better, but Jaina had not been in a position to do anything, away on Kalimdor tending to her own people.
But she would mourn those that had needlessly suffered because of the actions of others. Stepping through yet another portal, Jaina felt the air lighten as the sounds of Stormwind city engulfed her and those others that had completed their mission into the wastes of Outland.
If she was honest with herself, Jaina never wanted to set foot on that desolate world again.
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Nobu'tan watched the battle before him with an icy indifference. Yes, he cared for his people deeply, but that desire to protect them was battling with his burning desire for vengeance against Illidan Stormrage, and to see everything that this half-Night Elf demon had built cast down into ruin.
He was willing to use every advantage, even his pact with Magtheridon, something that he was sure to catch flak from many of the Dark Horde, as well as his other allies. The mark on his neck, already healing from the Fel pounding through his veins, was proof that the Pit Lord was a sore topic for some.
Curiously, the armored Night Elf, Maiev, seemed just as uncaring of the means used to gain entry to the Black Temple as he. It seemed her desire for "justice" as she called it, ran as deep as Nobu'tan's desire for revenge.
With Feldrake riders and Veela in the air, they had a definite advantage so long as the battle took place outside the Temple. But the waiting allies of the Broken Draenei and the Shadowmoon Clan inside was too tempting to pass up entering the Temple and working their way through its corridors.
"I believe it is time for us to relocate to a more forward location," he said to the Huntress. Turning to Lucius, he exchanged a glance that told the man to remain, taking charge of the command post in Nobu'tan's stead as he advanced to the front lines.
"The sooner we pursue Illidan directly, the better I will feel." The Night Elf said, turning to descend from the wall. Issuing one final command, Nobu'tan signaled the banner carrier, "Stormreaver Clan will move to the front, alongside Bleeding Hollow Clan. I am taking to the field myself. Hold this position and make sure no enemy reinforcements arrive."
The standards of the bleeding eye, alongside the bolt of lightning over the sea rose into the air, accompanied by blasts of horns and the rumble of drums as Nobu'tan exited the small fort.
"This is the first time in months I have departed this prison…" Maiev stated absently, flexing her clawed gauntlet over her circular glaive, "It feels good to be on the hunt again."
"I will trust you to lead us to him," Nobu'tan said, "there are yet allies I must rally inside the Temple, but once that is accomplished we will go directly for the Betrayer without delay."
Whether Maiev was irritated at the delay or not, she made no sign of it, but started toward the lines of advancing orcs. Nobu'tan grinned; her single-minded focus and willingness to use all advantages was very similar to his own, but he stowed those thoughts away. He had little time for distractions of any type, and the Night Elves were proven to be very dislikable in personality and their aura of superiority.
Nobu'tan and Maiev took the center of another phalanx of strong shields, the battle on the two terraces lining the main gate still heavily contested. There were enemy combatants enough to be fighting their assault on those parapets, as well as continue a rain of arrows and magic down on those pushing the center.
Standing there, a banner boy being the only other figure being protected, they advanced at what felt like a snail's pace, but the thud of rocks and arrows, as well as the splash of magic, was more than sufficient to alleviate the impatience that burned at Nobu'tan's chest.
The Bleeding Hollow was another of the clans carrying ladders for their forces, and Nobu'tan was certain that they would be needed in short order. If they were to clear the way for the remainder of their forces to advance, they needed a foothold on those walls, and if attacking from the front was not yielding success, then they would flank them from their rear as well.
Soon they reached the far side of the narrow corridor through the main gate of the Temple, and the turtle formation dispersed, lining up to wall off their forward outpost against counterattack. Teg'Ramm was there, coordinating the assault in the main courtyard.
"Report," Nobu'tan said, surprising the ogre mage.
The original head, Teg, turned to face him, while Ramm continue to bellow orders to the assembled clans, "Lord Nobu'tan, welcome to the front." He said, "Naga forces have surged from below, and the Blightbringers have moved to counter them, while Magtheridon is battling some massive abyssal for control of the open portion of the courtyard."
Nobu'tan nodded, "the Bleeding Hollow have come, and shall be climbing the walls to assist the Shattrath forces in taking them for ourselves." He reported, gesturing at the Fel orc clan as they swarmed past and around to the walls they had just passed. The ladders heaved upward, and the red-skinned Fel orcs scrambled upward, leaping on the elves and orcs atop the walls, already contending with the Aldor Draenei and Scryer Blood Elves.
"Their assistance there will be most appreciated," Teg replied, even as Ramm ordered the Blackrock clan forward, to engage a resurgence of Fel Horde remnants. "We should have control here in short order.
"Where can we be most useful," Nobu'tan suggested, glancing at Maiev, and indicating the Stormreaver clan assembled behind them.
"Following in the wake of Magtheridon," Ramm supplied, also joining the conversation, "He is struggling with the massive beast guarding the door, and may need assistance."
"Understood," Nobu'tan said, gesturing at the banner boy to follow as he led his clan forward. The young orc looked extremely proud to be at the side of the Grand Warlock of the Dark Horde, and held himself rigid, permitting not even a waver in the banner he carried. The others of the Stormreaver, orcs that had split from the Black-Tooth Grin, Blackrock, and Dragonmaw clans to follow Nobu'tan specifically, fell into line, weapons at the ready as they marched straight up the middle of the wide courtyard, toward where the massive Pit Lord wrestled with the gargantuan Abyssal.
The closer that Nobu'tan got, the more he felt the heat rise off the blue flames of the demonic construct. As Ramm had reported, the Annihilan was on the back foot, much of his hide scorched from the powerful flames of the Abyssal.
Rather than empower the Pit Lord further, Nobu'tan raised a hand, concentrating on the burning collection of animated boulders, searching for the Fel core that powered it, in order to siphon away the Fel magic that kept it running.
It wasn't difficult to locate, blazing like a living heart in the center of the rocks. But it was intense, and something far more than Nobu'tan could hope to contain alone.
Calling upon his fellow warlocks, they all pushed their magic forward, latching like parasites onto the hulking construct, draining away what magic they could, and funneling it into stones and trinkets that they carried. Others would redirect the magic right back at the Abyssal, in the form of fire and pure chaos, but all functioned in draining the strength of the massive golem.
Slowly at first, the effect became more apparent the longer they channeled. Magtheridon started to gain ground, blocking an overhead swing of the stone fist, and grabbing the massive chest boulder with a blackened, claw-like hand.
With a roar of strength, the Pit Lord wrenched sideways, tearing the boulder, and the Infernal core within, away from the limbs, severing the magic that kept the limbs animated, and sending boulders crashing to the ground all around him.
The abyssal was defeated, leaving the entry to the Temple itself exposed for their forces. Nobu'tan suspected that the Pit Lord was about to empty his usefulness, even as the massive demon turned to face them, flames burning from with its eyes and fanged mouth.
"And now, I reclaim Outland as my domain!" Magtheridon bellowed, raising his arms high, as though in victory, "Illidan's time is numbered, and the Black Temple shall be mine again!"
"I think not," Nobu'tan replied, gesturing at the deactivated Infernal Core, just to the side of their forces. Opening himself wide, he consumed as much of the Fel energy within, chanting spells and making the demonic gestures in the direction of the Pit Lord.
Runes burned themselves into the dead ground around Magtheridon the blue flame of the Abyssal dying out to be replaced with the dire green of pure Fel energy. The other warlocks knew what had been planned for this situation, and immediately leapt into action, adding their reserves of power, and working to channel the font of Fel that Nobu'tan represented into a full circle of banishment surrounding the Pit Lord.
The demons eyes turned on Nobu'tan, "You will pay for this insult," Magtheridon bellowed, trying to exit the circle, but unable to escape the magic dragging him back into the Nether.
"Perhaps," Nobu'tan replied, eyes fluttering as he delve into determination a location to send the Pit Lord, "but not from you, and not anytime soon… Goodbye Magtheridon, your contribution to my vengeance will be but a footnote in the chronicles of history."
The demon roared again, hammering on a powerful shield of magic that erupted around him, even as the air shifted, showing the infinite Nether around where the former homeworld of the Earthborn wizards once hung.
Magtheridon clawed at the edges of the portal, before being dragged through by sheer vacuum of the endless Void, revealing a clear visage of what was left of Nobu'tan's birth world.
The blacked sphere was a shocking sight, even though he knew precisely what fate had awaited the world and the people that were left behind.
It was a testament to his shame, the cost that his selfish desire had wrought, and something that hung heavy around Nobu'tan's neck. Maiev was there, watching the same horrific sight as the portal into the Nether sealed itself, but whether she understood what was there for all to see or not, she made no comment.
The way ahead was clear now, with both Abyssal and traitorous Pit Lord dealt with, Nobu'tan centered himself on the waiting revenge. Stepping forward, staff clicking on the cobbled stone of the courtyard, he led his Clan into the darkness of the Black Temple.
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When the terrible vision of a long distant world blossomed into view over the ramparts of the Black Temple, Lucius couldn't tear his eyes away.
Across the battlefield, the Pureblood noble could tell that those others of his people were also gazing upward, drawn to the same familiar magic crying out in agony and pain. Without words, without even thought, he knew that this blackened husk of a planet was his world, burned out of existence by the Legion's fire.
This was the hellish fate that Nobu'tan had brought, and had saved them from in turn. Lucius was split between rage at the boy for the devastation he saw, and overwhelming gratitude to have been saved that fiery doom.
The remorselessness that he had seen in Nobu'tan over the action did not seem to mesh with the young man's current objectives, and the secret activities that he sent certain of the number to accomplish. Oh the boy was subtle, but Lucius was an old veteran at the subtleties of such games, he was intimately aware of the countless warlocks and demon-worshippers that Nobu'tan had had secretly put to death.
They were at war with the Legion, possibly ever since they had passed through the portals from Earth to Azeroth, glimpsing the diabolic world of Argus for the briefest of instants.
"Your pain radiates through the air like living flame," a voice touched Lucius' mind, shocking him out of his thoughts. Turning, he had to hold a hand before his eyes as the shining radiance of the Naaru drew near. The strange creature had come with the forces of Shattrath to this battlefield, but Lucius had not been present to see that strange occurrence.
"I am Xi'ri," the being of light introduced itself, "and through the power of the Light I witness your pain, Lucius Malfoy, survivor of Terra…"
"What do you want of me," Lucius said aloud, not certain why any of this mattered to the strange being. Nobu'tan was their leader, no he.
"Your people have suffered much, and by the Light they have been preserved, both by the one you call Nobu'tan, and again by the Army of the Light. Many of your people yet live, and fight the Legion across a hundred worlds out in the Great Beyond. You are not alone in this universe, and in time you may yet meet some of those you knew in your old life again." The creature prophesied, the words striking Lucius to the very center.
Whether the creature knew of what it spoke, or else was just giving comfort to an old man in pain, he did not know, but the knowledge did resolve Lucius in his course. Nobu'tan was their salvation, for better or worse, and there was no turning back now.
Facing the vision of his blackened homeworld as the portal reaching it closed, an orc messenger approached him, "My Lord, the battle on the two spurs of ramparts is breaking down. They need reinforcements."
"Terrath…" Lucius said, coming to a decision.
"My Lord?" the orc asked, confused.
"My name is Terrath," Lucius repeated, "named after that blacked orb you saw in the sky, a world destroyed by demons."
Lucius had long forestalled any attempt to give the orcs of the Dark Horde a name to call him, preferring the mystery of being a nameless figure of authority, but he had decided that the demands of justice for his homeworld needed to be remembered, he would take upon himself a name to remind all those of where they, the wizards of Earth, had come.
"Send in the reserves, swarm those ramparts and take them for the Dark Horde," Terrath ordered, making a sweeping gesture with his illusioned hand, "we must support those on the front lines at all costs."
"The forces of the Sha'tar are at your side," the Naaru added, speaking to Lucius' mind as well as the messenger.
The young orc seemed shaken at the strange presence, but Lucius did not flinch. There would be time enough to come to answers of this mystery after they had secured victory.
"Go, spread the word, all reverses advance!" he shouted, and the messenger sprinted away, even as the remaining banners rose into the air, horns and drums sounding the charge of all remaining forces.
All along the lines, bagpipes sounded in repetition, and the army of the Dark Horde surged forward for the ladders. The blaring of Scotland the Brave, an unknown tune to those of Azeroth, seemed the perfect declaration of revenge against those who had destroyed the Earth, and shattered the peace of its inhabitants.
Lucius reminded himself to congratulate Yaxley on his effective and prudent decision to make this their unofficial anthem in this new world.
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Draco quickly divorced himself from the Alliance assault force the moment they returned to Stormwind. He was physically and magically exhausted, but still felt the great need to get an update of what was going on with the Dark Horde. Supposedly they were preparing for the actual battle in the southern reaches of Outland, but Draco had not been able to sit in on many of the meetings regarding the operation.
"Lord Malfoy," a guard said, even as Draco tried to round the turn out of sight of the Keep, "King Varian wishes for you to present the report of the battle, alongside Lady Proudmoore and Spymaster Shaw."
Draco frowned, he had hoped to avoid this extra delay, but it seemed that he irritating assassin had already expected that he would make the attempt to depart as soon as they arrived. "Of course, I'll make my way there immediately," he said, slight hope to at least evade this one guard.
"I'm to escort you there directly," the oblivious footman said, dashing any chance of escape that Draco may have had.
"Of course, lead the way," he said, momentarily allowing a dour expression to cross his face, once the man had turned his back of course.
Into the Keep they went, and Draco wasn't sure if it was his mind playing tricks on him, or if there were more SI:7 Agents around than normal. He was brought directly to Varian, in a rear room of the Keep, away from prying eyes. Jaina and Shaw were already present, the Spymaster filling in the King of the details of their battle in the floating fortress.
"Ah, here is the man of the hour," Mathias said, turning toward Draco as the wizard-turned-warlock entered.
Draco raised an eyebrow, on edge with any type of praise that the spymaster would level toward him. "Shaw has been detailing your battle with Kael'thas, and how it was you that dealt the final blow that slew the Prince." Varian said.
"We do not have any confirmation that he is dead," Draco quickly pointed out.
"True, but that does not mean there is no cause for a well earned celebration," Jaina replied, "Even if he survived, his power in Outland has been shattered, and with it whatever threat to our world he posed. There were rumors of weapons being developed by the Blood Elves in secret, to harness all that extra magic and cause great devastation to whomever they decided to use them on."
Draco frowned, knowing exactly what weapons that the Sorceress of Theramore was referring to. The Dark Horde had seized one of these mana bombs, and had engineers working around the clock to reverse engineer them.
"I do not wish for such honor or recognition," he persisted, "I am only doing what my King commanded of me, and after that I am satisfied."
Varian and Jaina seemed disappointed, but curious of all, Draco caught the small grin on Shaw's face. That humility had impressed him, or at least informed him of something that the secretive man already suspected.
"Very well," Varian said, "we needn't bother the people of Stormwind with news of another mitigated disaster, and allow them to continue with their lives undisturbed for a time. But I would still want frequent eyes watching Outland, and making absolutely certain that there will be no repercussions from this needful action."
"I will inform our garrison at Honor Hold at once, milord," Shaw said, turned and exiting the room.
"Well," Varian said as his spymaster departed, turning to both spell casters, "I suspect you both have earned yourselves a good long rest, and I suggest you take it. With what we've faced in such a quick succession over the last year and a half, I don't expect things to get any simpler in the near future."
"Of course, thank you, Varian," Jaina said with a short bow. Draco inclined his head respectfully, and followed the Sorceress from the room, eager to get back to his own task of checking up on the progress of Lord Nobu'tan and the Black Temple.
Jaina looked like she wanted to continue her own conversation with him, but made little attempt to speak, almost waiting for Draco to broach the subject of what had just happened. "Well, I had better go and check on my mother and little sister," Draco said, making his escape.
"Oh, of course," Jaina said, disappointed, but accepting his excuse, "I had better return to Theramore anyway, and touch base with Aegwynn. Apparently her grandson is quite the handful of curiosity, and it may have proven too much for one old woman to handle."
"Then I will see you in the future, Lady Proudmoore," Draco said, nodding to her as he started away. The shimmer of Arcane magic behind him indicated that she had teleported from that spot, and Draco released the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.
He didn't have time to deal with thoughts of the Alliance leadership, and hurried to his parent's house in the Mage district, to check in with his mother and see where the armies of the Dark Horde had ended up.
Try as he might, though, he was unable to shake the feeling that Shaw was not quite through with him, even as he passed Old Town on his way toward the Trade District.