Anduin laughed a little. He left Magni's quarters not cheered or happy, but more reconciled to what had happened. He placed the precious weapon on the nightstand by his bed. In the darkness of the room after he had blown out the candles, it emitted a barely perceptible radiance, and as he drifted off to sleep, Anduin wondered if he was being silly to think that it might be watching over him.
Fifteen
Anduin realized that Magni's compliment wasn't an idle one. He was indeed the only human—indeed, the only person who wasn't a dwarf or a gnome—present as those who would witness and participate in the ritual assembled in the High Seat. Magni had donned his most formal armor. Gone was the avuncular dwarf whom Anduin had become so fond of. Today Magni was fully embracing what he needed to be for his people, and he was
every inch, short though it might seem to Anduin, a king. Anduin, too, had dressed in the finest clothes he had brought with him, but still felt a bit out of place. Fortunately, he knew many of the dwarves.
One, though, was not present, and he missed her keenly. He wondered what she would have thought about this. Would Aerin have deemed it superstitious nonsense, or a practical method of finding out information? He would never know.
Magni's eyes swept the assembled gathering. There were not many—High Priest Rohan, several herbalists, High Explorer Magellas, and Advisor Belgrum from the Explorers' League. "Would that me brothers were here," Magni said quietly, "tae witness this. But there was no time tae notify them. Come, let us go. Each moment we linger distresses poor Azeroth th' more."
Without another word he strode toward a large door toward the entrance of the High Seat. Anduin had noticed the door there before but had never asked about it, and no one had ever mentioned it. Magni nodded, and two attendants stepped forward bearing a huge iron skeleton key between the two of them. Another brought out a large ladder; the door was so gargantuan even the slightly taller Anduin would not have been able to reach the lock.
The dwarves cautiously ascended and hefted the mammoth key into position. Working together, they twisted it. With a deep, protesting groan, the key turned and the lock yielded. The dwarves descended and moved the ladder out of the way.
For a moment nothing happened, and then slowly the door magically swung open of its own accord toward the onlookers, revealing a yawning darkness.
The two attendants who had opened the door had set aside the giant's key and now moved ahead of the small procession, lighting sconces along the way as they went to reveal a simple descending corridor. The air was cool and moist, but not stale. Anduin realized that there must be huge open areas beneath Ironforge.
They followed the corridor in silence as it led them ever downward. It was precise and linear; no twining path this, not for the dwarves. One of the attendants moved up ahead of them, and when they reached the end of the hallway, there was a brazier burning brightly ready to greet them. The hallway opened into a large cavern, and Anduin gasped.
He'd been expecting the neat hallway, but what he saw startled him. Beneath his feet was a platform that branched out to two paths. One was a set of stairs, carpeted and surprisingly new looking, which led upward. Another path led downward, this one plain, unadorned stone. What took his breath away was what was on the walls and above.
Clear, gleaming crystals jutted from the walls and ceiling. They caught the light of the brazier and the torches the attendants held, sparkling and seeming to radiate clean white illumination of their own, though Anduin
knew that was but a trick of the imagination. Nonetheless, it was beautiful, this blending of the glories of the natural formations of this place and the simple lines of dwarven architecture.
"The crystal—it's so beautiful," Anduin said softly to Rohan, who was walking next to him.
The priest chuckled. "Crystals? Lad, these are no crystals. Ye're looking at diamonds."
Anduin's eyes widened, and his head whipped back up to regard the gleaming ceiling with new respect.
Magni was purposefully striding up the stairs to a broad platform large enough to accommodate a group several times their size. He turned and nodded expectantly.
"I think it no accident that right when we needed it, we have uncovered a tablet that contains information that might be of great help," he said, his voice echoing in the cavern. "Nearly everyone present here today lost someone he or she loved dearly three days past. Reports come from all over Azeroth that summat is mightily wrong. The earth is wounded, an' is shaking—cryin' out fer aid. We are dwarves. We are of th' earth. I have faith in the word of the earthen. I believe that what I do here—this rite that is unspeakably old—will let me heal this poor, hurtin' world. By my blood an' bone, by the earth an' stone, let this be done."
The hair on the back of Anduin's neck prickled. Even though Magni's speech had been spontaneous, there was something about it that made his breath catch. He felt that just as he had descended into the heart of the earth, so he was about to descend into a ritual that was deep and unfathomable.
Belgrum stepped forward, a scroll in his hand. Magellas stood beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside these two stood Reyna Stonebranch, a dwarf herbalist, holding a crystal vial full of a murky - looking liquid. Belgrum cleared his throat and began to speak a strange language that sounded hard and blunt and made Anduin shiver. It seemed colder here now, somehow.
After each phrase, Magellas translated for Anduin's benefit. The young prince remembered Magni reading the same phrases to him just yesterday.
"An' here are the why an' the how, tae again become one wi' the mountain," intoned Belgrum. "For behold, we are earthen, o' the land, and its soul is ours, its pain is ours, its heartbeat is ours. We sing its song an' weep fer its beauty. For who wouldna wish tae return home? That is the why, O children o' the earth."
Home. Azeroth was truly home to all of them, Anduin thought as Belgrum continued with the specific directions on how to prepare the draft. Home wasn't Stormwind, or even with his father, or Aunt Jaina. Home was this land, this world. Here they now stood, in the "heart of the earth," embraced by diamonds and stone that felt sheltering rather than oppressive. Magni was about to speak to the wounded Azeroth and find out best how to heal it.
It was truly a noble goal.
"Wi' a finger's pinch o' the soil that nourished them, consume the draft. Speak these words wi' true intent, an' the mountain shall reply. And so it shall be that ye shall become as ye once were. Ye shall return home, and ye shall become one with the mountain."
Reyna now stepped forward, handing the muddy - looking elixir to Magni. Unhesitatingly the dwarven king took the transparent, slender vial, brought it to his lips, and drank it down. He wiped his lips and handed it back to Magellas now handed him a scroll. With a bit more hesitation than Belgrum had displayed, Magni read aloud in the ancient language while Magellas translated.
"Within me is th' earth itself. We are one. I am o' it and it o' me. I listen fer th' mountain's reply."
Magni handed back the scroll, then spread his hands imploringly. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration.
No one knew what to expect. Would the mountain suddenly begin to talk? If so, what would its voice be like? Would it speak only to Magni, and what would he hear? Could he speak to it? Would—
Magni's eyes flew open. They were wide with wonder, and his mouth curved in a soft smile. "I… I can hear…" He lifted his hands to his temples. "Th' voices are in me head. Lots o' 'em." He chuckled softly, his expression one of stunned joy and triumph. "It's not just one voice. It's… dozens, maybe hundreds. All the voices o' the earth!"