The Demon Soul (34 page)

Most were already waiting for her. They included not only those who had originally been assigned to Tyrande, but many of the elder priestesses as well. All knelt or bowed their heads as she neared.

“Please! Stop that!” Tyrande begged, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not necessary!”

“We await your orders,” Marinda respectfully said.

Tyrande had been dreading this moment. It was one thing to organize aid for the refugees and wounded soldiers, another to fling the entire sisterhood into the heat of battle.

“We must—” She stopped, silently prayed to the Mother Moon for guidance, and continued. “We must divide up evenly and support those areas weakest along the front lines…but not all of us! I want…I want a third of us to keep to the back and do what can be done for any of the injured or wounded.”

Some of the sisters looked disturbed, clearly desiring to be up front alongside the fighters. Tyrande understood that, but also recognized that just because the battle was desperate, this was not the time to put aside the other skills the temple taught.

“We need healers among the soldiers. Any soldier able to come back to fight aids our cause. Consider this also: There must always be a Sisterhood of Elune. Should we all stand and fight—and perhaps die—who will be left to spread her word and her love among our people?” Tyrande tried not to think about the possibility that there would be no people to teach about Elune if the demons won here.

“We hear and obey,” one of the senior priestesses said. The rest nodded.

“Marinda, I leave those caring for the wounded in your hands.”

“Aye, mistress.”

Tyrande considered further. “And if I should perish, I wish you to take over.”

The other night elf looked aghast. “Tyrande—”

“The chain must be unbroken. I understand that. I hope you do, too.”

“I—” Marinda frowned. “Yes, I do.” Her eyes briefly measured some of the other sisters. As Tyrande had done, she already considered who would be best to lead if she fell.

The new high priestess exhaled. Perhaps her decisions had been rash ones, but she could not be concerned about that now. They were needed. Elune was needed.

“That’s all I have to say…except, may the serene light of the Mother Moon illuminate your paths.”

The ancient farewell said, Tyrande watched as many of the sisters left. Those who would follow her began mounting.

One of them glanced toward Tyrande. “Mistress…what about her?”

“Her?” She blinked. Having grown so accustomed to Shandris riding with her, Tyrande had forgotten that the younger female could not possibly come with her now.

Likely knowing what was to come, Shandris tightened her grip. “I’m going with you!”

“That is not possible.”

“I’m good with a bow! My father taught me well! I’m probably as good as any of these!”

In spite of the looming situation, her defiance caused many of the sisters to smile.

“That good?” one gently mocked.

Tyrande took Shandris’s hand. “No. You stay here.”

“But—”

“Dismount, Shandris.”

Her eyes tearing, the orphan climbed down. She stared up at Tyrande with huge, silver orbs that made the high priestess feel guilty.

“I’ll be back soon, Shandris. You know where to wait.”

“Y-yes…mistress.”

“Come,” Tyrande ordered the others. If Elune had thrust her into this role, she had to accept it and do her best to live up to her calling. That included keeping as many of her sisters alive as the Mother Moon allowed.

Even if she had to sacrifice herself to do it.

Shandris watched them vanish. The orphan’s face was tear-stained, and her hands were balled into fists. Her heart pounded in time to the beating of the war drums and the cries of the dying.

When she could stand it no longer, Shandris ran after the priestesses.

A
lthough he had told Malfurion that Korialstrasz would arrive before long, Krasus insisted that he and the elf begin heading in the general direction of the battle. He did not do it because he felt that it would cut down the trek. Hardly that. The distance they covered could be flown by an aged, ill dragon in barely a few minutes. Healed by the druid’s miraculous spell, Korialstrasz would take only one.

No, they walked because the dragon mage needed to walk in order to keep his impatience in check. He wanted so much to do something to hasten their journey, but he dared not create another portal to reach their destination, not after the last disaster. That left it to waiting for his younger self, but even with a fleet dragon coming to pluck them up, Krasus felt as if he had no more time remaining. Events were coming to a head, and he was out of options.

If Korialstrasz could get them to the struggle swiftly, then things could still be salvaged. If not—

“Master Krasus! I think I spy something behind us!”

Praying that it was not another of Neltharion’s hunters, he peered back. A single huge shape moved determinedly toward them. There could be no mistaking that it had seen them.

Krasus suddenly felt a tingling in his head. He allowed himself a smile. “It is Korialstrasz…”

“Praise be!”

The red leviathan’s wings beat hard, each stroke seeming to eat away another mile. Korialstrasz grew rapidly, his expression finally visible. Krasus thought his younger self looked extremely relieved.

“There you are!” thundered the behemoth, landing a short distance behind them. “Each second of flight felt like an hour even though I flew my fastest!”

“You are a welcome sight,” the mage told him.

Korialstrasz lowered his head and eyed Krasus most curiously, as if puzzled by something concerning him. “Is it truly so?”

The way he asked made Krasus start. Korialstrasz knew exactly who and what the spellcaster actually was.

“Yes,” he replied to his other self, “it is.”

“And you,” the dragon said, turning to Malfurion. “I am forever in your debt, night elf.”

“There’s no need for that.”

The behemoth snorted. “So you say. You were not the one dying.”

Krasus’s eyes narrowed. “You were attacked, were you not?”

“Aye, two of the Earth Warder’s own! They were filled with a horrid madness! I slew one, but the other caught me. He, too, is dead now, though.”

“It is as I feared.” The mage could say no more, the spell preventing him. Frustrated, he turned to a subject he could discuss. “We must return to Rhonin and the others. Are you prepared to take us there?”

“Climb aboard and we will be on our way.”

The two did as the dragon bade. Once they had settled at his shoulders, Korialstrasz stretched his wings, then gently took off. He circled the field twice before heading toward the direction of the battle.

As they flew, Krasus constantly glanced behind them. He was certain that they were fast approaching the point when the dragons would be coming, but so far he noted nothing. That gave him hope that he could devise a plan to deal with Neltharion’s betrayal before it took place. If the evil of his creation could be stopped or, better yet, wielded by one not tainted, then the demons could be defeated, and his own kind saved from their slide to near-extinction.

“We must be getting near,” Malfurion called. “The sky is growing hazy!”

Sure enough, the foul mist that pervaded wherever the demons had marched soon met them. Korialstrasz tried to keep low, but in order to avoid flying blind, he had to practically let his torso scrape the ground. When that effort finally proved unmanageable, he said, “I must fly higher! Perhaps there we will find a limit to this murk!”

Through the mist the trio rose. Krasus squinted, but saw nothing beyond his younger self ’s nose and sometimes not even that far. With visibility so poor, he knew that Korialstrasz had to rely on smell and other senses to make headway.

“There must be an end to it!” the red dragon snapped. “I will find it even if it takes me—”

A winged figure suddenly appeared in their path. The Doomguard darted back into the mist the moment he saw the dragon.

Korialstrasz immediately gave chase, forcing Krasus and Malfurion to hold on tight.

“Leave him!” the mage shouted. “We must get to the battle!”

But the fierce wind created by Korialstrasz’s swift flight carried away his words. Krasus beat on the dragon’s neck, but the heavy scales prevented the other from noticing.

“What about a spell?” Malfurion cried. “Just something to attract his attention!”

Krasus had wanted to do that, but knew better. “If we startle him at all, he may jolt and drop one or both of us! In this thick mist, it would be impossible for him to catch us before we hit the ground below!”

Forced to let Korialstrasz continue his pursuit, the two could only lean low and hope that the dragon either caught the demon quickly or gave up. However, recalling exactly how determined he had been when younger, Krasus knew that Korialstrasz would not turn back so soon. His own stubbornness now worked against all of them.

Again the demon flickered into sight. The fearsome, horned warrior flew as fast as his fiery wings could carry him. Even he understood that he could not stand against such a giant.

The mage frowned. The Doomguard had their share of cunning, and could see through this mist far better than their foes. The demon should have been able to figure out a way to lose Korialstrasz, who was clearly having trouble locating him. If not for the almost straight line the demon flew—

The truth suddenly dawned on Krasus. “Malfurion! Prepare yourself! We are about to be attacked!”

The druid looked around, seeking a foe in the fog.

A second later, he and Krasus were greeted by many.

The winged warriors came at the trio from all angles. At least half a dozen rose up under Korialstrasz, striking at the dragon’s chest and stomach. Others dropped down, seeking to either slay or knock off the two riders. Several more fluttered about in front of and behind the leviathan.

Korialstrasz roared, sending out a flood of fire at those in front of him. Most of the demons scattered, but one he caught dead center, reducing the horned warrior to ash.

The red’s massive tail swung like a mace, battering three of the Doomguard away. The others darted in, slashing with their horrific blades and even managing a few cuts in the scales.

Atop him, Krasus and Malfurion were harried. The dragon mage managed to cast a quick spell that created a glowing orange shield above them, but the demons battered relentlessly at it, quickly weakening his work.

The night elf reached into a pouch at his side. He took from it some small particles, then cast them at those demons most immediate. As they touched each of their targets, the particles blossomed into huge tendrils—creeper vines. Malfurion muttered under his breath, and the vines expanded in every direction.

The demons began tearing and slashing at the plants overwhelming them, but the vines grew at a swifter pace than they could cut.

Several encircled and tightened around one demon’s throat. There was a crackling sound, and the horned warrior slumped…then plummeted from sight.

Other demons found their limbs and, most important, their wings, entangled. Two fell screaming to their deaths.

Krasus cried out as a Doomguard who had gotten under the shield cut him on the shoulder. Eyes blazing, the mage took out much of his frustration with a single word of power. The demon howled as his flesh melted like wax, dripping over and through his fiery armor. That which passed for bones clattered in a heap before spilling groundward.

Yet still there seemed Doomguard everywhere. Krasus could not help but feel that they had been set there to await either the return of the one dragon that had aided the night elves or any other of the great beasts. The irony that the demons might have delayed Neltharion’s betrayal long enough for Krasus to do something about it did not escape the mage.

Hindered by the fact that he carried riders, Korialstrasz could not dive about as he normally would have, but the dragon nonetheless made good use of his other skills. One demon came too close. With a snap of his jaws, Korialstrasz crushed the attacker, then spat out the remains.

Shaking his head, he uttered, “Horrible taste! Horrible!”