Tides of Darkness

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Tell us everything."

Khadgar nodded, not bothering to look around. It would be pointless. He had been summoned before the ruling council of the Kirin Tor and those leaders were only visible when they wished to be.

He had stood in this council chamber once before, upon being told he was to be apprenticed to Medivh. Then he had been awed by the room, which seemed to somehow hang in the air, only the floor faintly visible as the world around darkened, lightened, and stormed far more rapidly that ever happened in nature. The council members themselves had awed him just as much, appearing only as cloaked, hooded figures, their forms and faces and very genders obscured by both cloth and magic. That was both dramatic and practical, since the wizard community's leaders were chosen in secret to avoid any danger of bribery, blackmail, and other pressure. The council members knew each other's identities but no one else did. The disguises ensured that. But they also gave the council an air of mystery, and many of its members delighted in the confusion, making sure no one entered or exited the chamber without being bewildered as to where they had been and whom they had seen and often even what they had said and heard. It had certainly worked on Khadgar back then, and he had left the chamber with his head awhirl, amazed at the power his superiors wielded and unable to recount exactly what had happened during his audience.

Much had changed since then, however. Though it had been only a few short years, Khadgar had grown considerably in both knowledge and power. His appearance had changed as well, and he amused himself by thinking that for once some of the council members would be as bewildered by their visitor as he was by them. After all, he had left a young man and returned an old one, older than many of them though he had lived far less.

Regardless, Khadgar found he was unwilling to play games. He was tired. He had teleported himself to Dalaran, and while his magic was strong enough to handle the task it was still a daunting distance. Plus he had been up late discussing matters with Lothar, planning for their first official strategy session next week. Khadgar appreciated his former masters' interest in recent events, and felt they needed to know what had occurred in Azeroth, but he felt he could do without the posturing and the performances and the shadow—plays.

That was why, when he did finally lift his head, he looked straight at the cloaked figure to his left. "I would be happy to recount events, Prince Kael'thas," he said politely, "but I would find the telling far easier were I able to see my audience properly."

He heard a gasp off to the side, but the cloaked figure he had addressed chuckled instead. "You are correct, young Khadgar," the mage replied. "I would find it difficult to speak to such shadowy figures myself." With a quick gesture the elven prince dismissed his disguise, standing revealed in his ornate violet and gold robes, his long golden hair flowing past his shoulders, his sharp features alert with anticipation. "Is that better?"

"Much, thank you," Khadgar said. He glanced around at the other council members. "And what of the rest of you? May I not see your face, Lord Krasus? Lord Kel'Thuzad? Lord Antonidas has not bothered with a disguise, and Prince Kael'thas has been considerate enough to dispense with his. Will the rest of you do the same?"

Antonidas, seated before Khadgar on an invisible chair, laughed. "Indeed, youngling, indeed," he agreed. "This matter is far too serious for such parlor tricks, and you are no longer a whelp to be fooled and amazed by such sleights. Unveil yourself, my friends, and let us be to this matter before the night grows older."

The other magi obeyed, though a few grumbled, and seconds later Khadgar found himself facing six people clearly. He recognized Krasus at once by his slight build, delicate features, and silvery hair still streaked here and there with red. And Kel'Thuzad was familiar as well, an impressive, charismatic man with dark hair and a full beard and strangely glassy eyes, as if he were not really looking at the world around them. The other two, a pudgy man and a tall, statuesque woman, Khadgar did not know, though their faces seemed vaguely familiar. Most likely he had passed them in the halls of the Violet Citadel back when he had been a student here and had simply not been important enough for them to address him directly.

Now, however, they were all attention.

"We have done as you asked," Kel'Thuzad complained. "Now tell us what has happened!"

"What do you want to know?" Khadgar asked the older mage.

"Everything!" And from the look in his eyes, Kel'Thuzad meant it. He had always had a reputation as a dreamer and a researcher, constantly questing for information, particularly about magic, its sources, and its potential. Of all the Kirin Tor he had been the one most interested in gaining access to Medivh's arcane library, and Khadgar assumed one of the ones most upset about its destruction. He had not bothered to mention that he had taken the choicest tomes for himself before vacating the tower.

"Very well." And so he told them. Gratefully accepting a chair the pudgy man offered, Khadgar sat and described everything that had happened since he had left Dalaran more than two years before. He told them about his strange apprenticeship with Medivh, about the master wizard's mercurial moods and strange disappearances. He told them about the first encounters with the orcs. He told them about the wizard murders. He told them about Medivh's betrayal, and about how he and Lothar had ended the wizard's life. Then he went on to talk about the Horde and the battles that had occurred, about the siege of Stormwind, Llane's death, the city's conquest, and their subsequent flight.

The master magi remained quiet for much of the recitation. Occasionally one would ask a question, but they showed surprising consideration for someone so much their junior, and the few questions they did ask were short and to the point. When he had finished, ending with the Alliance and the Paladins, Khadgar leaned back to catch his breath and waited to see what the magi might ask next.

"You did not mention the Order of Tirisfal," Kel'Thuzad pointed out, eliciting a sharp cough from Antonidas. "What?" the mage—researcher demanded. "It is relevant, when discussing Medivh!"

"It is," Khadgar answered, "and I apologize for my lapse. But" — he glanced around, trying to judge the magi's knowledge by their faces, and opted for discretion—"I know little of the Order's true workings. Medivh was a member, and spoke once or twice of the Order's existence, but he did not name any other members or discuss its activities."

"Of course," the woman agreed, and Khadgar saw the look of frustration and disappointment she and Kel'Thuzad exchanged. He had been right then, he realized. They knew nothing about the Order, and had merely hoped to trick him into revealing its secrets. That had failed and they would not press the issue. "But I am more concerned with Medivh himself, and with what happened to him," she continued. "You are certain it was Sargeras you saw within him?"

"Absolutely." Khadgar leaned forward. "I had already seen the titan in a vision, and recognized him at once."

"So it was Medivh—or Sargeras through him—who opened a rift for the orcs," the pudgy man mused. "And what did you say their world was called?"

"Draenor," Khadgar answered, shuddering slightly. His mind flashed back to another vision from Medivh's tower, that of himself as an old man—or at least, looking as he did now—leading a small force of warriors against a multitude of orcs. On a world with a blood—red sky. Garona had told him it sounded like Draenor, which meant he was destined to go there. And most likely not survive. He forced himself back to the conversation before him.

"What do we know of it?" Krasus was asking. "This world? You've told us of the sky, but can you tell us anything else?"

"I haven't been there myself," Khadgar replied, thinking at least not yet. "But a companion, a half—orc, told me a great deal about the world and about the orcs." He could see Garona in his mind's eye, and quickly turned away from that painful memory as well. "The orcs were considerably more peaceful at home—they squabbled but didn't fight one another. Their only real enemies were the ogres, and orcs are far smarter and considerably more numerous."

"What happened?" Kel'Thuzad asked.

"They were corrupted," Khadgar explained. "She didn't know all the details—the why and how of it—but gradually their skin changed from brown to green and they began practicing different magic from what they had known before. They turned more savage, more violent. There was a great ceremony and a chalice of some sort. The chieftains drank from it, and the warriors—most of them, anyway. Their skin changed to a vivid green then, and their eyes turned red. They grew more powerful, stronger and fiercer, and they all went blood—crazy. They killed any foe they encountered and then began turning on each other. Plus their magics had leeched the life from the soil and their crops would not grow. They were on the verge of killing themselves, or of dying from starvation. But Medivh approached Gul'dan, the Horde's chief warlock, and offered him access to this world. Our world. Gul'dan accepted and together they built the portal. They sent through a few clans at a time, and gradually increased their numbers. Then it was just a matter of waiting, building strength, scouting defenses, and finally attacking."

"And now we have them approaching us full force." Kael'thas frowned.

"Yes."

Khadgar waited, but no one else spoke and at last he stirred in his unseen chair. "If there is nothing more, noble gentlemen and lady, I will take my leave," he said. "It has been a long day and I am very tired."

"What are your plans now?" the woman asked him as he rose from his chair.

Khadgar frowned. He had been pondering the same question since their arrival in Lordaeron. A part of him wanted to beg the Kirin Tor for protection. Perhaps he could resume his old job as an assistant to the librarian? He would not cause any trouble, and he would be safe behind the strongest magical defenses in the world.

Another part of him, however, hated the idea of hiding from the upcoming conflict. He had faced a demon, after all! And he had survived. If he could handle that, surely he could handle an army of orcs.

Besides, friendship and respect still counted for something, at least to him.

"I will stand by Lord Lothar," Khadgar replied finally, deliberately keeping his voice casual. "I have promised him my support, and he richly deserves it. After the war, assuming we survive—" He shrugged.

"You are still a subject of Dalaran," the woman pointed out. "If we called you back here and assigned you necessary work, would you obey the summons?"

Khadgar thought about it for a few seconds. "No," he answered slowly. "I cannot return to that. After this war, if we survive, I will return to my studies, though whether I do that here or at Medivh's tower or at some other location is entirely uncertain."

The council members studied him and he them. It was Krasus who finally broke the silence. "You left here a mere boy, a fledgling apprentice," he said, and Khadgar could hear the approval in his voice. "But you have returned a master, and a man." Khadgar dipped his head to acknowledge the compliment but did not say anything.

"You will not be ordered to do anything," Antonidas assured him. "We shall respect your wishes, and your independence. Though we would like to be kept up—to—date, particularly for anything involving Medivh, the necromancers, the Order, and that portal."

Khadgar nodded. "Then I am free to go?"

That earned him a tight smile from Antonidas. "Yes, you may go," the archmage said. "May the Light protect you and grant you strength."

"Keep us informed," the pudgy man added. "The sooner we know what the orcs plan, the sooner we can send troops to that area, and of course we can provide magical assistance as well."

Khadgar nodded. "Of course." He left the room quickly, but as soon as the doors had shut he summoned a scrying sphere. The Kirin Tor met in a quiet room that he assumed had been magically shielded not only from attacks but also from prying eyes. But Khadgar had learned a great deal from Medivh during his short apprenticeship, and had learned more from the books he had appropriated after the master mage's death. He was also very close to his target subject. He concentrated, and the colors within the sphere swirled, from green to black and back again. Faces began to appear in the image, and a faint murmuring, and then he was looking at the Kirin Tor's council members in plain violet robes. Even the room's active mural had changed, slowing down and finally coming to a stop, leaving only a plain chamber with six people milling about.

"— don't know how far we can trust him," the pudgy man was saying. "He did not seem very eager to accede to our wishes."

"Of course not," Kael'thas replied shortly. "I doubt you would be any more open and trusting if you had been through as much as he had. We do not need to trust him, regardless. We only need him to provide us an introduction to Lothar, and to mediate between us and any others. I am sure we can trust him not to undermine our efforts, not to turn against us, and not to withhold any evidence and information we might need. I do not see where we would want or need any more than that."

"This other world, Draenor, that troubles me," Krasus muttered. "If the orcs could pass through that portal, so could others—from either side. We know they had ogres there but have no idea what else to expect. That means they could have even worse creatures waiting eagerly for their chance to enter and then devastate this world. Also, there is nothing to stop the orcs from retreating to their home whenever they feel it necessary. Fighting an enemy with an impregnable home base becomes considerably more difficult, as he can pop out, attack, and then disappear again. We should make finding and destroying that portal our first priority."

"Agreed," said Kael'thas. "Destroy the portal." The others nodded. "Good, that's settled. What else?"

They began talking about something more mundane, schedules for cleaning the Violet Citadel's laboratories, and Khadgar let the scrying sphere fade away, image and all. That had gone better than he had expected. Kael'thas was right, he had gone through a great deal in the past three years, and he had half—expected the Kirin Tor to grow furious with his lack of respect. But they had not said anything at all and seemed to believe his story without any prompting, which certainly made for a pleasant change.

Now he just needed to teleport himself back to Capital City and sleep so that he would be awake enough to be of any use tomorrow.

A week later, Lothar stood in a command tent in southern Lordaeron not far from Southshore where he and Khadgar had first arrived. They had chosen this area because it was central enough to reach any part of the continent quickly, particularly by boat. Outside, his troops marshaled and drilled and slept. Inside, he and the Lordaeron kings and the four men he had chosen for lieutenants clustered around a table and stared at the map laid across it. Lothar had made Uther his liaison to the Silver Hand and to the Church—the Paladins had made surprising progress in their fighting skills and in wielding the Light. Khadgar was both his contact with the magi and his most objective adviser. Proudmoore controlled the navy, of course—it hadn't even been a question. But Turalyon, young Turalyon Lothar had made his second in command. The youth had impressed both him and Khadgar, and had shown himself to be smart, focused, loyal, and hard—working, even if he did still treat Lothar as if he were some legendary figure. Lothar was sure the lad would grow out of that, however, and could not think of anyone better qualified to serve as his right hand. Turalyon was clearly still nervous about such a heavy responsibility, and Lothar had twice been forced to remind him not to jab absently at the map. At least, not with a knife.

They were discussing the same things they had been discussing for a week now—which way the Horde would most likely go, where they might attack, and how to bring the Alliance troops there as quickly as possible, at least without trampling the very fields and crops they had united to protect. Just as Graymane was insisting for the tenth time that the Alliance forces be stationed all around Gilneas's borders in case the orcs somehow appeared there first, a scout burst in.

"Sir, you have to see this, sir!" he shouted, trying to stop his forward momentum, bow, and salute, all at the same time. "They're here!"

"Who's here, soldier?" Lothar frowned. He was trying to read the scout's expression and having a hard time of it, the man was so flustered. He didn't look terrified, however, which meant Lothar could take a deep breath and try to get his own racing heart back under control. Because no terror meant it wasn't the Horde. There was fear on the scout's face, but it was mixed with respect, even awe. Lothar had never seen anything quite like it.

"The elves, sir!" the scout all but shouted. "The elves are here!"

"The elves?" Lothar stared at the scout, trying to process that fact, then turned and glared at the assembled kings. As he had suspected, one of them coughed and looked slightly guilty.

"We need allies," King Terenas explained. "And the elves are a mighty race. I thought it best to contact them immediately."

"Without consulting me?" Lothar was furious. "And what if they have sent an entire army, and suddenly announce they are in control? What if the Horde arrives while we are working to assimilate them into our own forces? You do not conceal details like this from your military commander! It could mean our deaths, or at the very least the deaths of many of our people!"

Terenas nodded soberly. "You are correct, of course," he answered, reminding Lothar once again why he liked the king. Most men were unwilling to accept fault, and often those with authority were even worse about it. But Terenas took full responsibility for his actions, good or bad. "I should have consulted you first. I felt time was of the essence, but that is no excuse. It will not happen again."

Lothar nodded gruffly. "Fine. Let's go and see what these elves look like, then." He marched out of the tent, the others following close behind him.

The first thing Lothar saw as he peeled back the tent flap and stepped outside were his own troops. Their army filled the valley and beyond, stretching across the landscape, and for an instant Lothar felt a rush of pride and confidence. How could anyone, anything, stand against so mighty a force? But then he saw again in his mind's eye the Horde washing over Stormwind, an unstoppable emerald sea, and grew somber again. Still, the Alliance army was many times larger than Stormwind's had been. They would at least give the Horde serious pause.

Glancing past his troops Lothar's gaze came to the shore, and the sea beyond. Proudmoore's ships were anchored all along the coastline, from small fast scout ships to massive destroyers, creating a forest of masts and sails across the waves. But many of them had pulled back from the docks, creating an open channel, and sailing up that space were a cluster of ships such as Lothar had never seen.

"Elven destroyers," Proudmoore whispered at his elbow. "Faster than our own, and lighter—they carry less weaponry but make up for that with speed. An excellent, excellent addition to our forces." The navy admiral frowned. "But so few? I count only four, and eight smaller vessels. This is a single battle group."

"Perhaps more are following them," Turalyon suggested from Lothar's other side.

But Proudmoore shook his head. "That would not be their way," he answered. "They would all arrive together."

"A dozen ships is still a dozen more than we had before," Khadgar pointed out. "And whatever troops they carry as well."

Lothar nodded. "We should go and greet them," he said, and the others all agreed. Together they set out across the valley. Perenolde and Graymane were not used to such exertion and were gasping in minutes but the rest were fit and they moved briskly, reaching the docks just as the first ship glided to a stop beside it.

A tall, lithe figure leaped across, landing lightly on the rough wooden pier. Long golden hair caught the sunlight, and Lothar heard at least one of his companions gasp behind him. As the figure drew closer Lothar saw it was a woman, and a stunning one at that. Her slender features were delicate but strong, as was her lean, willowy body. She wore forest green and oak brown, a strange lightweight breastplate over shirt and breeches and a long cloak with the hood tossed back, and leather gloves covered her arms to the elbow just as boots protected her legs to the knees. A slim sword hung at one hip, a pouch and horn at the other, and across her back were slung a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Lothar had seen many women over the years, some of them as beautiful as this elf approaching them, but he had never seen one who so easily combined strength and grace. He could understand why several of his companions already seemed smitten.

"Milady," Lothar called out when she was still a few paces away. "Welcome. I am Anduin Lothar, commander of the Alliance of Lordaeron."

She nodded, covering the remaining distance and stopping only a handspan away. From here he could see the pointed ears poking up through her hair, and the wide, emerald—green eyes that slanted up at the corners. "I am Alleria Windrunner, and I bring you greetings from Anasterian Sunstrider and the Council of Silvermoon." Her voice was lovely, musical and rich, and Lothar suspected it was pleasant even in anger.

"Thank you." He turned and gestured to the men gathered around him. "Allow me to present the kings of the Alliance, as well as my lieutenants." After introductions had been made, he turned to more serious matters. "Forgive my bluntness, Lady Alleria," he said, drawing a smile from her at the title, "but I must ask—is this all the aid your people can muster?"

That brought a frown from her. "I will tell you straight, Lord Lothar," she replied, glancing around to make sure no others were listening. Several other elves, both men and women, had left the ship now and were clustered at the far end of the pier, clearly awaiting Alleria's permission to move closer. "Anasterian and the others were little concerned at the reports you sent. This Horde is far distant from us and seems intent upon conquering human lands, not our own forests. The council members feel it is better to leave this conflict to the younger races, and merely strengthen our own borders to prevent any additional incursions." Her eyes narrowed, showing what she thought of such a decision.

"Yet you are here," Khadgar pointed out. "Surely that means something?"

She nodded. "The missive from King Terenas" — she nodded in his direction—"informed us that you, Lord Lothar, were the last of the Arathi bloodline. Our ancestors pledged eternal support to your King Thoradin and all his kin. Anasterian could not deny that obligation. He has sent this battle group to acknowledge the debt."

"And you?" Lothar asked, noticing she had only mentioned the ships.

"I am here of my own accord," she announced proudly, tossing her head back in the same way he had seen spirited stallions do when challenged. "I am a ranger, and chose to bring my own detachment and offer our aid freely." She glanced beyond Lothar, her eyes roaming, and he knew she was studying the army spread out behind him. "I sensed this conflict was far more serious than my own rulers realized. Such a war could easily spread to us all, and if the Horde is as vicious as you say our forests will not remain inviolate for long." She turned back and met Lothar's gaze, and he could see that for all her beauty this was a strong woman used to battle. "We must stop them."

Lothar nodded. "I agree." He bowed. "Well, you are welcome here, milady, and I thank your lords for their token support. But I am far more grateful for your presence, and that of your rangers." He smiled. "We were just discussing our next move, and I would be pleased to hear your opinion. And once your people are settled I will ask you to send them scouting, that we may be sure the enemy is not yet upon us."

"We need no rest," Alleria assured him. "I will send them at once." She gestured, and the other elves approached. Each was garbed as she was, and moved as quietly, though to Lothar's eyes they lacked her singular grace. Alleria spoke with them, her words fluid and musical and completely foreign to Lothar, and the others nodded and then flitted past them with a brief nod, disappearing at a run off the docks and through the valley. Within minutes they had vanished from sight.

"They will scout and report back," Alleria explained. "If the Horde has come within two days' march of here, we will know of it."

"Excellent." Lothar ran a hand absently over his bare forehead. "If you would care to accompany us back to the command tent, then, milady, I will show you what we know thus far and we will hear your thoughts on the matter."

She laughed. "Of course. But you will have to stop calling me ‘milady' if you want me to pay proper attention. It is Alleria, nothing more."

Lothar nodded and turned, leading her off the docks. As he did he caught a glimpse of Turalyon's face and suppressed a grin. Now he knew where the gasp had come from.

Two days later, Lothar found he had nothing to smile about. Alleria's scouts had returned, as had Proudmoore's, and both had the same news to share. The Horde had taken Khaz Modan and used the dwarven mines to craft ships of their own, massive ungainly vessels of iron and timber that moved awkwardly but could carry thousands of orcs in their deep holds. These ships had carried the Horde swiftly across the water, and they had indeed aimed at the southern coast of Lordaeron. Not as far as Graymane's domain, however. It looked as if the Horde would come ashore in the Hillsbrad region, halfway between here and Gilneas. If the Alliance moved quickly, they could be there waiting when the Horde arrived.

"Gather the troops!" Lothar bellowed. "Leave everything nonessential—we can send people back for it later, if we survive! Right now we need speed more than anything else. Go! Go!" He turned to Khadgar as his other lieutenants ran from the command tent to muster their own troops, the kings right beside them. "And so it begins," he told the young—old wizard.

Khadgar nodded. "I thought we would have more time," he admitted.

"So did I," Lothar agreed. "But these orcs are impatient to conquer. That may be their downfall." He sighed. "At least, I hope so." He stared at the maps of Hillsbrad a moment, trying to envision the coming battle, then shook his head. There were things to do, many of them. And the battle would come soon enough.