"Yet another mystery. I know how much you are dealing with already Khadgar. But I thought you should know."
"Thank you," Khadgar told him, and meant it. "Yes, I'd rather know." He frowned thoughtfully, reaching to stroke his beard and momentarily nonplussed to find only his bare chin. "And perhaps I can even find out why these things happened. First the Book of Medivh, now the Eye of Dalaran. Why these specifically?" He set his wineglass down on Antonidas's desk and stood, reluctantly. "I should be getting back."
Back to being a boy in an old man's body. Back to watching Alleria and Turalyon enact a painful drama of denial and hurting and solitude when any fool could see they would be stronger and happier together. Back to fighting orcs and closing portals and bearing the weight of the world on his artificially aged shoulders. He sighed heavily.
"As you wish. Good luck, my boy." Antonidas waved his hand, and Khadgar awoke, sitting up at Nethergarde's meeting room table. He was back in his elderly body now, and felt a wistful pang as he regarded his withered hands and long white beard.
Rising, Khadgar left the dream and the meeting hall behind. He spotted Turalyon and a few others at the main gate. They were clustered around a new prisoner. They looked up as he approached and stepped back. The archmage suppressed a shudder as he saw the creature's rotting, once-human face and glowing red eyes.
"Khadgar!" Turalyon called as he noticed his friend. "I was just about to send for you."
"I assume you needed my help with this one? Was the Light ineffective?"
Turalyon looked frustrated. "Quite the contrary. His reaction was so extreme I was afraid I was going to kill him. I thought perhaps you—"
"Of course." Khadgar sank down to a crouch beside the prisoner, meeting his fiery gaze. "Do you have a name, death knight?"
The creature merely snarled, writhing against his bonds. They held fast, however.
"If that's the way you want it," said Khadgar, shrugging. He summoned power to him, then focused that power into a tight beam. The spell easily pierced the Horde creature's defenses as Turalyon's Light probably had, but although the death knight stiffened, he was not so maddened by agony he could not speak. And speak he would.
"Your name?"
The death knight glared at him, murder in his eyes, but his mouth opened and formed words of its own accord. "Gaz Soulripper."
"Good. Now, how did the Horde reopen the portal?" Khadgar demanded, as Turalyon and the others crowded close behind him.
"Ner'zhul," it replied. "Ner'zhul used the Skull of Gul'dan to force the rift open again."
"Is such a thing possible?" Turalyon asked.
"Entirely," Khadgar said. "It's starting to make sense now. We know Gul'dan created the Dark Portal in the first place, working together with Medivh. It's likely that his remains would still have a link to it, and therefore could be used to gain greater control over the rift. Just like the Book of Medivh."
Ner'zhul had needed Gul'dan, or at least his skull, to open the rift again. And without that skull, Khadgar couldn't shut it either, not completely. Now he understood why the rift had remained before. Without using Gul'dan's skull, Khadgar would never be able to seal the rift for good. And without the book, he wouldn't be sure he was using the right spell.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. Glancing up, he saw Turalyon gesturing him to step away. Puzzled, Khadgar complied.
"Good news," Turalyon said. "Our forces are driving the Horde back toward the Dark Portal. We also had word from Admiral Proudmoore. Other groups of orcs are running, too. Apparently a band of Horde orcs — backed by black dragons, if you can believe it!—stole several boats from Menethil Harbor recently."
Khadgar sighed, remembering his dream conversation with Antonidas. "I can believe it. I — wait. You said 'boats'?"
"Aye. They headed southwest, into the Great Sea."
Khadgar gripped Turalyon's tunic. "Southwest? Damn it!"
"What is it, Khadgar?"
"They're not running. The boats — they were heading for the Tomb of Sargeras! Gul'dan tried that once, and it killed him!"
"Why would the orcs do that? Medivh is dead and Sargeras is gone. The tomb's empty." His eyes widened slightly. " …Isn't it?"
It all clicked into place. "Sargeras is gone," Khadgar said slowly, "but that doesn't mean the tomb is empty. We know the orcs are seeking artifacts — what if Sargeras left something there? The tomb was shielded so that no creature of Azeroth could enter — but the orcs were never from here! The wardings would mean nothing to them now; just as they meant nothing to Gul'dan when he — that's it. That's got to be it!"
Khadgar turned back to the death knight and dropped to his knees beside the creature.
"Why did Ner'zhul send orcs to the Tomb of Sargeras?" he demanded. Gaz Soulripper laughed, foul breath from dead lungs caressing Khadgar's face. He'd pulled tightly into himself in the few moments of respite and was not about to say anything. Khadgar frowned. He extended his magic once again, this time without any effort at finesse, and the illumination of his spell was like a lance to the creature's forehead. Soulripper arched in agony, but stayed silent.
"Tell us!"
"We — care nothing for your world!" Soulripper grunted, his hands clenching.
Khadgar made a subtle move with his fingers, and this time Gaz Soulripper cried out. "I need better than that."
"Ah!" The dead thing bit its lip in pain, teeth sinking easily through rotted flesh. "Our destiny — greater than you can imagine, human!"
Khadgar's heart sped up. These half-truths, these hints… What was the reality? Sweat dotted his forehead, but not from exertion. He tightened his grip, and the death knight convulsed.
"Khadgar …" said Turalyon, wincing a little.
"I can keep this up all day, Soulripper," Khadgar said. When there was no response, Khadgar lifted his left hand to join his right.
"An artifact!" the death knight screamed. "From the tomb. The Scepter of Sargeras."
"That's better. What about it?"
"W-with that, the Book of Medivh, and the Eye of Dalaran, Ner'zhul can — no!"
Khadgar was surprised at the level of resistance the death knight could put up. He shared Turalyon's distaste of torture, but they were so close… .
"What can he do? Tell us!"
"He — he can open portals from Draenor to other worlds."
Khadgar immediately ceased tormenting the death knight, who flopped over, groveling in recovery. He sat, stunned for a moment, then looked up at Turalyon. He saw his own horror mirrored in the youth's face.
“Other… worlds?” Turalyon said, his voice faint with shock. "Azeroth and Draenor… aren't the only ones?" He stared down at the death knight, his mouth working for a moment before anything came out. “Worlds… more than ours. Worlds without end, innocents without number falling before them… Light save us."
Khadgar nodded. "I know it's difficult to grasp. The Horde we've faced was half-crazed with desperation and hunger. Their world is dying, and they needed to take ours. Now they're going to open portals to countless other worlds as well. This same scenario will be repeated again… and again and again."
Turalyon barely heard his friends words. They seemed to fade away, smothered by the thudding of his own heart in his ears. The hideous visage of the death knight, too, was fading, drowning in a slow but steady glow of white light that seemed to be coming from inside the paladin's own head.
He burned to protect his people — the Alliance — all life on this world from the havoc that the ever-hungering orcs had chosen to wreak. That seemed daunting enough, but now — worlds! Just how many were they talking about, anyway — one? Two? Two million?