The gates creaked open just enough for two elves to squeeze through before it shut again. Turalyon glanced up as they approached him, his eyes narrowing as he realized they both looked exhausted. "What news?"
"Stormwind, sir," one of the elves replied. "Someone broke into the royal library. The guards found the bodies of the two men stationed outside the door and the one inside. Looks like one died by an orc axe, sir."
"Orcs? In the royal library?" Turalyon whirled to stare at Khadgar, then at the orc, who cringed away. “Artifacts… ," he murmured, putting the pieces together.
"The perfect distraction," Khadgar was forced to admit. "Damn it. I'd say that simple plan worked very well indeed. We were busy here fighting the orcs, and someone made off with—" He turned to the elves. "What exactly did someone make off with, if anything?"
Now the elven scouts looked even less happy "Unfortunately, you are right. Lord Wizard — one thing was indeed missing."
"And that was?" Turalyon prompted.
The elf cleared his throat. "The, uh… the Book of Medivh."
"By the Light," Turalyon whispered, feeling a knot form in the pit of his stomach. The Book of Medivh? The spellbook of the greatest mage in all the world, the man who had helped the orcs create the original portal? The book containing all the brilliant wizard's many secrets? In the hands of the orcs?
Beside him Khadgar seemed stricken as well. "Tura… I need that book! To close the portal!"
"What?" Turalyon cried.
"Medivh and Gul'dan created the thing. That spellbook could tell me how to close it! Not only that — if the orcs have it, they can use it against us in any number of ways. This is bad. This is very, very bad."
Turalyon shook his head, reaching for the calm place inside himself. "I understand. But we can't worry about it right now — we've got orcs outside, and distraction or not, they're still a great danger. Our job is to protect this keep, and prevent them from spreading past it. Once that's done, then… well, we'll go from there."
He eyed his friends, who nodded slowly. He glanced up at Alleria, thinking he saw a hint of approval glimmer in her green eyes before she again lifted her bow to resume firing.
"You're right, General," Khadgar said, inclining his head. "We have a keep to defend. We can’t solve a puzzle if we're not alive to do so."
Turalyon gave a weary, worried grin, climbed back atop his mount, and rode again into the maelstrom that was battle.
CHAPTER TEN
“We’ll divide into two groups," Gorefiend instructed Fenris, Tagar, and his death knights. Around them was the bustle of a camp being broken as swiftly as possible. "I need—"
He glanced up as the sounds stilled abruptly. Deathwing had rejoined them, looking as perfectly human as he had before. He caught Gorefiend's eye.
"What, did you think I would not return?"
"No, of course I did."
Something about how he said it obviously displeased the great dragon, whose black brows drew together. Gorefiend realized the words could be interpreted as arrogance and hastened to add, "I completely trust your word, Lord Deathwing."
The dragon looked mollified. Gorefiend continued, "We need to travel to Alterac, and from there to Dalaran. May we ask you for the aid of your children in this?"
"You may. I will summon them now." Deathwing tilted back his head, his mouth opening far wider than any true human's could, and uttered a strange rippling cry that teased at the ears, creating phantoms of other sounds and generating a cool breeze that reeked of old death. Some of the orcs shrank back, and even Gorefiend was hard put to keep his face calm as the earth itself shook and rumbled beneath his feet, as if replying directly to the black dragonlord.
Finally, Deathwing closed his mouth and his face assumed its normal proportions. "There we are," he said, grinning in obvious delight at the discomfiture of both orc and death knight. "They will come."
"Thank you." Gorefiend bowed. He turned toward the two orc chieftains. He was not looking forward to what he had to ask of them, and feared they might balk; but it had to be done. "Your task will be challenging, but vital. I must ask you to go to the Tomb of Sargeras."
Tagar growled uneasily, and even the sturdier Fenris looked upset. "You send us to our deaths then!" Fenris snapped.
"Not at all. There is an artifact there that Ner'zhul requires. I will send along Ragnok to aid you and explain what—"
"Gul'dan — the powerful Gul'dan died there!" Fenris interrupted. "We have heard the stories — of how Gul'dan raised it from the ocean bed, only to be attacked by the monstrous things guarding that horrible place. We have heard how only a few escaped and that most died there, screaming in pain… . Evil lives in that darkness, Gorefiend!"
The death knight spared only a moment to be amused at the comment; he well knew that the humans on this world thought the orcs themselves monstrous, evil things.
"Do you think I would send you and one of my own knights if I believed you would not be successful?" They had no answer for that and exchanged uneasy glances. Gorefiend graced them with his death-rictus smile. "That's better. As I was saying, you must retrieve a certain artifact. Ragnok will explain everything. Once you've found it, return to the Dark Portal as soon as possible and we will meet you there. The Warsong clan won't be able to keep the Alliance distracted and busy forever."
Both chieftains nodded, looking more confident. Gorefiend regarded them for a moment. Tagar was a powerful fighter, but he had no subtlety and little intelligence. Fenris, however, was clever and subtle enough for both of them, and his bearing told Gorefiend he would keep the young Bonechewer chieftain in line. Satisfied, Gorefiend turned to the dragonlord. "Great Deathwing — can you bear them to the tomb?"
The dragon-man nodded. "We know this island of which you speak," he said. “And here are my children — enough to accommodate both groups, I think."
Even as the words left Deathwing's lips, Gorefiend heard a sharp flurry of noise, as if a heavy rain were striking, its pellets slashing through the air and into the rock and earth all around. Looking up, Gorefiend did see dark streaks against the stars, but they were most certainly not raindrops. Beneath his feet, he felt the earth rumble again. Suddenly he saw specks of bright orange as the streaks increased in size, swelling and becoming diamond-shaped. His eyes widened as he realized the orange glows he had seen was fiery magma in the beasts' huge jaws, and the increasingly loud noise was the beating of gigantic wings.
Gorefiend watched, awestruck, as the dragons swooped down. The very earth shook as the mighty creatures landed, liquid fire dripping from their mouths to steam, glowing and sullen, on the earth. They were beautiful in their deadliness. Their scales gleamed in the starlight, a glossy black like a midnight pool, and their claws seemed like polished iron as they perched on the earth or on giant boulders, seeming to Gorefiend's eyes a living, lethal extension of the earth upon which they stood. When they had all come to ground, the dragons folded their great leathery wings and watched the orcs closely, their ebony eyes staring, their heads swiveling and tails flicking slightly. Gorefiend was reminded of a cat analyzing its prey before it casually dispatched it, and shivered slightly.
"Here are my children," Deathwing announced, the pride evident in his voice. "The finest of all the creatures of Azeroth!" He pointed to a particularly large dragon nearby, two great horns jutting up from its brow. "Sabellian," Deathwing announced, and the dragon lowered its head as its name was announced, "is my lieutenant in all things. He and a few companions will bear your orcs to the island you spoke of. And as for your jaunt to Alterac, I'll take you there myself."