Part 20 (1/2)
”Oh...Kael'thas,” she said softly, ”he has done...terrible things,” she began. ”What your people have suffered-”
”You know nothing of suffering!” he cried. ”You are a child, with a child's mind and a child's heart. A heart that you would give to that-that-he slaughtered them, Jaina. And then he raised their corpses corpses!”
Jaina stared at him mutely, his words having no sting now that she knew the reason for them. ”He murdered my father, Jaina, just as he murdered his own. I-I should have been there.”
”To die with him? With the rest of your people? What good would throwing your life away do for-”
No sooner had the words left her lips than she realized that it was the wrong thing to say. Kael'thas tensed and cut her off sharply.
”I could have stopped him. I should have.” He straightened, and coldness suddenly chased away the fire in him. He bowed low, exaggeratedly. ”I will be departing Dalaran as soon as possible. There is nothing for me here.” Jaina winced at the emptiness, the resignation in his voice. ”I was a fool of the greatest order to ever think any of you humans could aid me. I will leave this place of doddering old magi and ambitious young ones. None of you can help. My people need me to lead now that my father-”
He fell silent and swallowed hard. ”I must go to them. To what pathetically few remain. To those who have endured, rebirthed by the blood of those who now serve your beloved beloved.”
He had stalked off then, fury etched in every line of his tall, elegant body, and Jaina had felt her own heart ache with his pain.
And now, he was here; Arthas was here, at the head of the army of the undead, a death knight himself. Antonidas's voice startled her out of her reverie and she blinked, trying to return to the present moment.
”Pull your troops back, or we will be forced to unleash our full powers against you! Make your choice, death knight.” Antonidas stepped back from the balcony and turned to regard Jaina. ”Jaina,” he said in his normal voice, ”we will be erecting teleportation-blocking barriers momentarily. You must go before you are trapped here.”
”Maybe I can reason with him...maybe I can...” She fell silent, hearing the unrealistic wanting in her own voice. She hadn't even been able to stop him from murdering innocents in Stratholme, or going to Northrend when she was certain it was a trap. He'd not listened to her then. If Arthas was indeed under some dark influence, how could she dissuade him now?
She took a deep breath and stepped back, and Antonidas nodded softly. There was so much she wanted to say to this man, her mentor, her guide. But all she could do was give him a shaky smile, now, as he fought what they both knew would likely be his last battle. She found she couldn't even say good-bye to him.
”I'll take care of our people,” she said thickly, cast the teleportation spell, and disappeared.
The first part of the battle was over, and Arthas had gotten what he had come for. Arthas had obtained the requested spellbook of Medivh. It was large and curiously heavy for its size, bound in red leather with gold binding. Across its front was an exquisitely tooled black raven, its wings outspread. The book still had Antonidas's blood on it. He wondered if that would make it more potent.
Invincible s.h.i.+fted beneath him, stamping a hoof and shaking his neck as if he still had flesh that could be irritated by flies. They were on a hilltop overlooking Dalaran, whose towers still caught the light and gleamed in hues of gold and white and purple while its streets ran with blood. Many of the magi who had fought him hours before stood beside him now. Most of them were too badly damaged to be of use other than as fodder to throw at attackers, but some...some could still be used, the skills they had in life harnessed to serve the Lich King in death.
Kel'Thuzad was like a child on Winter Veil morning. He was perusing the pages of Medivh's spellbook, thoroughly engrossed with this new toy. It irritated Arthas.
”The circle of power has been prepared per your instructions, lich. Are you ready to begin the summoning?”
”Nearly,” the undead thing replied. Skeletal fingers turned a page of the book. ”There is much to absorb. Medivh's knowledge of demons alone is staggering. I suspect that he was far more powerful than anyone ever realized.”
A blackish-green swirl had begun manifesting as Kel'Thuzad spoke, and Tichondrius appeared as he finished. Arthas's irritation deepened as the dreadlord spoke with his usual arrogance. ”Not powerful enough to escape death, that is for certain. Suffice to say, the work he began, we will finish...today. Let the summoning commence!”
And that quickly, he was gone. Kel'Thuzad floated into the circle. The s.p.a.ce was marked out by four small obelisks. In their center, a glowing circle with arcane markings had been etched. Kel'Thuzad bore the book with him, and once he fluttered into position, the lines of the circle flared to glowing purple life. At the same moment, there was a spitting, crackling sound and eight pillars of flame sprang up about him. Kel'Thuzad turned to gaze back at Arthas with glowing eyes.
”Those who yet live within Dalaran will be able to sense the power of this spell,” Kel'Thuzad warned. ”I must not be interrupted or we will fail.”
”I'll keep your bones safe, lich,” Arthas a.s.sured him.
As Kel'Thuzad had promised, it had been comparatively easy to enter Dalaran, slay those who had erected specific spells against them, and take what they had come for. Arthas had even been able to kill Archmage Antonidas, the man he had once thought so very powerful.
If Jaina had been there, he felt certain that she would have confronted him. Appealed to what they had once had, as she had done before. She would have had no better luck now than she had then, except- He was glad he did not have to fight her.
Arthas's attention suddenly snapped back to the present. The gates were opening, and Arthas's gray lips curved in a grin. Previously, the Scourge had had the element of surprise on their side. Yes, many powerful magi lived in Dalaran at all times. But there was no trained militia, nor were all the magi of the Kirin Tor in Dalaran. But they had had several hours, and they had not been idle.
They had teleported in an army.
Good. A solid fight was just what he needed to drive distracting thoughts of Jaina Proudmoore and the youth he had once been to the back of his mind.
He lifted Frostmourne, feeling it tingle in his hand, hearing the soft voice of the Lich King caress his thoughts.
”Frostmourne hungers,” he told his troops, pointing the sword at the armor-clad defenders of the great mage city. ”Let us sate its appet.i.te.”
The Scourge army roared, Sylvanas's anguished wail rising above the cacophony, causing Arthas to grin even more. Even in death, even though she obeyed his commands, she defied him, and he relished forcing her to attack those she would have preferred to defend. Invincible gathered himself beneath his rider and surged forward at a full gallop, whinnying.
Some of his ghastly troops stayed behind to defend Kel'Thuzad, but most of them accompanied their leader. Arthas recognized the livery of many of those whom the Kirin Tor had teleported in to defend the city. Friends they had once been, but that was all in the past, as irrelevant to him as yesterday's weather. It was getting easier now, to feel nothing but satisfaction as Frostmourne, glowing and all but singing as it feasted upon souls, rose and fell, cutting through plate as easily as flesh.
After the first wave of soldiers fell, raised to serve in the Scourge or abandoned where they had fallen as of no use, a second one came. This one had magi with them, clad in the purple robes of Dalaran with an embroidered symbol of the great Eye upon them. But Arthas, too, had additional aid.
The demons, it would seem, wished to protect their own.
Giant stones screamed down from the sky, their tails streaks of fel green fire. The earth shook where they struck, and from the craters caused by their impact climbed what looked like stone golems, held together and directed by the sickly green energy.
Arthas glanced over his shoulder. Kel'Thuzad hovered, his arms spread, his horned head thrown back. Energy crackled and coursed from him, and a green orb began to form. Then, abruptly, the lich lowered his arms and stepped out of the circle.
”Come forth, Lord Archimonde!” Kel'Thuzad cried. ”Enter this world and let us bask in your power!”
The green orb pulsed, expanding, growing taller and glowing yet more brightly. Suddenly a pillar of fire shot skyward, and several answering lightning bolts crackled down outside the circle. And then, where there had been nothing, a figure stood-tall, powerful, graceful in its own dark and dangerous way. Arthas returned his attention to the battlefield. A retreat sounded-clearly the magi, at least, had seen what was transpiring, and their troops wheeled their mounts and galloped back toward the safety-temporary though Arthas suspected it to be-of Dalaran. Even as they fled, a deep, resonant voice cut through the sound of battle.
”Tremble, mortals, and despair! Doom has come to this world!”
Arthas held up his hand, and with that simplest of gestures the swarm of Scourge halted and retreated as well. As he galloped back to Kel'Thuzad, eyeing the giant demon lord all the while, Tichondrius teleported in. As usual, after after all the danger had pa.s.sed. all the danger had pa.s.sed.
The dreadlord made a deep obeisance. Arthas drew rein some distance away, preferring to observe.
”Lord Archimonde, all the preparations have been made.”
”Very well, Tichondrius,” replied Archimonde, giving the lesser demon a dismissive nod. ”Since the Lich King is of no further use to me, you dreadlords will now command the Scourge.”
Arthas was suddenly very grateful for all those hours spent in disciplined meditation. It was only that that kept his shock and fury from showing. Even so, Invincible felt the change in him and pranced nervously. He yanked on the reins and the undead beast stilled. The Lich King was of no further use? Why? Who exactly was he, and what had happened to him? What would happen to Arthas?
”Soon, I will order the invasion to begin. But first, I will make an example of these paltry wizards...by crus.h.i.+ng their city into the ashes of history.”
He strode off, his body erect and proud and commanding, his hooves landing firmly with each step, his armor gleaming in the rose and gold and lavender of the encroaching twilight. Beside him, still making obeisance, strode Tichondrius. Arthas waited until they were some distance away before he finally whirled on Kel'Thuzad and burst out, ”This has got to be a joke! What happens to us now?”
”Be patient, young death knight. The Lich King foresaw this as well. You may yet have a part to play in his grand design.”
May? Arthas whirled on the necromancer, his nostrils flaring, but he tamped back his anger. If anyone-either of the demons or the Lich King himself-thought for one moment that Arthas was a tool to simply be used and then discarded, he would soon show them the error of their thinking. He had done too much-lost too much, cut out too much of himself for this to be cast aside. Arthas whirled on the necromancer, his nostrils flaring, but he tamped back his anger. If anyone-either of the demons or the Lich King himself-thought for one moment that Arthas was a tool to simply be used and then discarded, he would soon show them the error of their thinking. He had done too much-lost too much, cut out too much of himself for this to be cast aside.