Chapter Text
He wasn't coming.
Wrathion paced to the edge of the overlook and scowled across the distance, not really seeing the spectacular view. Kairoz wasn't coming. He and his bodyguards had been at the meeting place since they'd retreated from the chaos at the Temple now nearly a full day past. Wrathion turned on his heel and paced to the other side of the overlook, boots digging into the ground with each step, his mood growing darker.
Left glanced his way but then resumed her careful watch of the skies. Right had been dispatched hours ago to discreetly make contact with the other Black Talons, to give further instructions, and to see what had happened at the temple.
He'd been betrayed. Possibly. Probably. Kairoz was a bronze dragon. They were not known to be tardy. Wrathion snarled, turned and paced back to the vista. The Dragonmaw had been flying astride Infinite dragons. Kairoz had not worn the telltale colors of those who'd immersed themselves into the timestream with the intent of moving and changing it, but had it been an illusion? Had his intent been to use the Infinite flight for his own ends? Was he himself a pawn and for what purpose? Wrathion's hands clenched. He gritted his teeth.
Wrathion hated not knowing.
The manner of his birth had gifted him with great knowledge. His visions had given him direction. Now he felt swept away, once again unable to choose his own fate or fulfill his rightful destiny. He hated this helpless feeling. He scowled and watched the skies because in this moment he could do nothing else.
Left grunted recognition and Wrathion whirled. "Kairoz?" he asked.
Left scowled, bearing a fearsome set of teeth as she lowered her scope. "No. But Right is on her way back." She resumed her watch of the skies, looking for the bronze, or perhaps pursuit.
Wrathion focused on the faint figure in the distance and saw it was indeed Right.
She landed and guided her gryphon to one side to tie it next to Left's mount.
"Report."
Right bowed her head then launched into a clipped, almost militaristic report. "No sign of Kairoz. Garrosh and he were seen escaping into the timeway the dragon opened. No one has seen him since." She stood at parade rest, more of her former military training showing. This was bad as she normally didn't let it show. Wrathion frowned in consideration as she continued her clipped report.
"The attack on the temple consisted of dark versions of several of the witnesses and attendees drawn from alternate timelines. The information I have indicates they were mostly mad and homicidal. The Celestials did not interfere with the assault, citing the Sha. The incursions were ultimately pushed back into their own times. Outside the temple, the attack was carried out by goblin zeppelin and Dragonmaw orcs astride Infinite dragons. The Dragonmaw broke ranks and retreated. I do not have a complete picture of what happened to the zeppelin forces at this time. My sources indicate that the fighting at the Temple was taxing and desperate in some cases."
Wrathion snarled silently for a moment. "Casualties at the temple?" He recalled seeing the other Kalecgos rise from the temple then descend like a crashing wave.
"Significant and... Not, your Majesty."
Wrathion arched an eyebrow. "Explain."
Right nodded, shifting her weight slightly. "There were many casualties. A large number of fatalities among them. Some of them which would have complicated your plans further if they'd been permanent."
Wrathion arched both eyebrows. "Mass resurrection?"
Right nodded. "That is what is being reported. Specifically the Red Crane acted once the fighting was over."
Resurrection was known, but rare and difficult. Doing such a thing on a massive scale was an indication of Chi-Ji's power. Wrathion felt a little thrill of fear run down his back and hoped that the Wild Gods of Pandaria wouldn't decide he needed to be punished. He shoved the thought away. "Anyone significant to my plans among those brought back?"
Right's face tightened slightly. "Archmage Proudmoore died."
Wrathion's lips curled back in a small snarl. While his plans for her mostly consisted of 'point her at the enemy,' she was a tremendously powerful mage, a player in global politics, and had personal ties to many leaders. "The Prince of Stormwind?"
"He lives. I have it from The Mage that he took a portal to Stormwind already. The Horde and Alliance have both pledged to track down Garrosh and Kairoz. Chromie was freed and is already working on following them. There has been no word otherwise."
Wrathion scowled as he thought this over. "We need ears close to her. I want to find Kairoz myself." He began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back as he did so. If they could follow whatever plan was ultimately reached, he could sink a blade into Kairoz's traitorous back either himself or by proxy. "Contact The Mage and The Rogue," Wrathion said as his heels dug into the earth with each step. "Both are Champions who proved themselves and will likely be on shortlists for whatever hunting party is formed. I think they would still be amenable to contact. I need someone on the inside."
"The Rogue and the Mage are a both more independent than other agents, if I might point out, your Majesty," Right said.
"If they're told to kill Garrosh, they might just do it," Left added.
"I want to do it right now!" Wrathion snapped. He looked away, seething. "I need to know if Kairoz's plan worked at all. I think these two will be reasonable enough to understand the methods I have chosen to employ. They know the Legion is coming." Wrathion returned his gaze to Right. "You said The Mage is at Xuen's temple?"
"She was in Pandaria. Called to the Temple to assist in making portals, provide additional protections, and help with cleanup. She might be back on Thunder Isle or even in Dalaran now."
"The Rogue?"
"Not in Pandaria at this time, but we have means of contacting her."
"Do so. I want to have a word with both of them."
Wrathion turned back to the vista, hands clenched as Right left once more to do his bidding. This had been a gamble from the start and Wrathion would use Kairoz's wings as saddle leather when he finally found the damn bronze. Well he wished to do so. Circumstances being what they were, he needed the dragon more or less intact. For now.
He withdrew the golden medallion from a pocket. The etched markings and delicate layers of gearwork sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. He wondered if the medallion had been a lie too, but he could feel item hum with power. He had little hope of using the device himself. For that he needed a bronze dragon; either Kairoz or someone to take his place. Wrathion put the medallion back into the pocket, checking it was secured.
As for Garrosh? Well, Wrathion would see how well he forged the Horde War machine before he decided what he would do with Garrosh.
One way or another. He would see Azeroth safe.
[10]
It was dusk when Right returned to the small hidden campsite Left had established. Left was eating some dried jerky, her eyes always on the skies. Wrathion looked up from the small bandicoot he'd caught and killed when she grunted in recognition.
"Right," she said, nodding in the direction of the approaching figures.
Wrathion groomed his claws and muzzle then shifted back into his human shape to wait for his bodyguard and those who accompanied her.
Right's gryphon landed with a quiet flap of dark wings. She tied it off near the sleeping wyvern and Left tossed the beast a small dead animal for supper.
"I found them both, your majesty," Right said, all but saluting.
"Good work," Wrathion said, filing her reactions away in the back of his head. He looked to the skies. The first of the two champions approached on an armored Wyvern.
The orc riding the beast nodded at Wrathion, eyes hidden under dark riding goggles. She pushed them up into her mane of dark hair and quickly scanned the area before pulling her beast to one side to be tied. She wore sturdy leathers in dark colors but they were fairly unremarkable. She was an average Orc female with an average build. The greenish cast to her skin marked her as a descendant of those who'd crossed through the portal into Azeroth. She was utterly unremarkable save for the daggers Wrathion knew well. This close he could feel their power, an odd sense of recognition, even if they were hidden on her person. Her name was Teraka and she had helped slay many of the remaining members of his flight. She'd been part of the team which had killed his father. Wrathion had armed her.
The second champion was a strange looking blue dragon. She hovered a moment as the Wyvern shuffled to the side then landed neatly on the ground. She was a small dragon, little larger than a drake, but she was a full-grown adult in structure and proportion. She possessed curling horns, rare among blues, and had draped them in silks. Her scales shimmered as if there was something not quite real about them. Her eyes blazed with blue arcane power. The dragon form faded away, like smoke caught in the wind.
A dark-furred Worgen in her lupine visage stood in place of the dragon. On her back was an intricate staff that resembled the dragon she had been moments before, and which smelled strongly of blue dragon itself. The mage rolled her shoulders and gave a cursory sniff of the area. Archmage Zaliya had been instrumental in Kalecgos's ascension and in bringing down Deathwing. She'd actually been suggested to Wrathion as a contact by Teraka in the aftermath of the Cataclysm. She too had proven a valuable asset during Wrathion's time on Pandaria.
Both champions were respected by their factions and had proven themselves in troubled times. They'd also been part of the final assault on Orgrimmar. Teraka in particular had wished to see Hellscream dead, but neither champion looked especially pleased at the moment. Wrathion was glad of his bodyguards. They knew of the importance of protecting Azeroth though they remained loyal to their factions. He hoped he would have better luck with them than he had with prince Anduin.
Teraka crossed her arms and leaned against her wyvern's flank. "This about Hellscream?"
Wrathion set his feet and faced them squarely. "Kairozdormu of the Bronze came to me with an audacious plan he required assistance with enacting. He would take Garrosh Hellscream back to Draenor before the Orcs tasted demon blood and deny the Legion their might. He would use those decades to forge a stronger Horde; one which could stand against the Legion. And then he would do it again and again. They would take Azeroth and we would be united under one banner."
The orc's scowl deepened but she didn't move.
Zaliya arched an eyebrow at him, her golden eyes luminous in the falling light. "Can't say I like the idea of an infinite number of Hordes."
"Wrynn couldn't do what needed to be done," Teraka scoffed. "An infinite number of Alliances wouldn't stand against the Legion."
"Apparently," Zaliya snorted. "But rest assured, we would die before allowing Garrosh to rule us. Better to die fighting than in a slum or an execution after. I think the Horde response to his rule would indicate that many members of the Horde feel the same. You don't like Garrosh any more than I do." Zalia turned her eyes towards Wrathion, gold meeting red. "I thought you wanted to see him dispatched, too."
"When Kairoz contacted me I decided I would allow Garrosh to live only so long as he was useful." Wrathion sniffed. "I was not unaware of his nature. He is a psychopath but he could have a use if pointed at the Legion."
"Where is he?" Teraka asked. Her tone of voice was neutral but both of his bodyguards bristled as if she'd drawn her blades.
"Somewhen in time with Kairozdormu. He had promised me something only a bronze dragon could give and he has not appeared. Chromie now searches for him. When he is found there were doubtless be a hunting party for Hellscream and where he is, the bronze will not be far. You are both champions of your factions and will likely be called to help in the hunt."
Teraka relaxed marginally. "I would see him dead."
"As would I, Black Prince," Zaliya said, crossing her arms. "If you are here to ask either of us to be lenient I do not think we are inclined to be accommodating."
"Garrosh can rot when he is useless. The bronze promised me something important to my mission and I will have my due. As for the Infinite Hordes, I hope you can see the benefit of such an army, Mage."
The mage's lips peeled back, exposing white fangs in a silent snarl. "I will not submit myself to the rule of Garrosh Hellscream from this time or any other. I will fight the Legion till my last breath but I will not do it for him."
"On that we are agreed, mage," Teraka added.
"Garrosh can die. I'm certain everyone will be quite pleased if he does. I am concerned about the bronze and his plans for an the Infinite Horde. Garrosh cannot lead such a thing if he is dead, can he? I only ask you allow him to live long enough to be useful in creating such a thing. Then he can die." Wrathion bared his teeth at them in something which could charitably called a smile. "In fact, I would greatly prefer it."
Zaliya's muzzle twisted in a grimace. "I will argue with you that further loss of life isn't going to help us against the Legion and I would rather not be slaughtered. But if he manages to make a fighting force that we can point at the Legion, maybe we can bring everyone under the same banner with negotiation."
"Negotiation will not work."
Zaliya rolled her eyes. "And on this we will agree to disagree, Black Prince. King Wrynn should have assimilated the Horde, but he didn't. If this infinite Horde can assimilate the Alliance then I will have no quarrel with the outcome. Azeroth lives united." She shook her head. "Let Garrosh build but then he dies." She inclined her head to her Horde counterpart then regarded Wrathion again. "I am expected in Dalaran."
"As I am in Orgrimmar."
"Portal?" Zaliya offered. "I can send you to the Gadgetzan area."
"Appreciated."
Wrathion fumed, a small, embarrassing chirping noise escaping from his mouth. "I have not dismissed you!"
"We are allies, not your subjects to be dismissed, Prince Wrathion," Zaliya stated. "I will look for your Bronze and see him delivered to you should he come across my path. But I will not stand by idly as more atrocities, like what happened with the Bell or with Theramore, are committed." She growled pensively. "Magic should not be used in such ways as that." She shook her head and focused on him once more. "I agree we must be under the banner as your vision dictates, but if Garrosh leads there will be unity only because he has managed to kill me and many others."
"That goes for me as well. On all counts, Black Prince." Teraka said. She turned and mounted her wyvern. "Mage, if you would?"
Zaliya inclined her head and began to murmur and weave her hands. Her magic was an ice-cold blue that dropped the ambient temperature noticeably. When she was done a large portal split the air, showing sand lit by the last rays of the sun.
"I will deliver Kairoz if I should come across him. Garrosh will die. As for the rest, we shall see what transpires." Teraka inclined her head to Wrathion then kicked her mount into movement. The Wyvern leapt across the portal, landing on the sand half a world away. The portal winked out.
"By your leave," Zaliya said, bowing in the Gilnean fashion.
Wrathion ground his teeth then waved her off. "Go."
She inclined her head once more, eyeing him speculatively. "I am curious what the bronze dragon promised you that you would agree to assist in a plan you do not believe in." She tilted her head, evaluating him with narrow golden eyes. "It must be something quite worthy of Azeroth and your mission. I hope whatever it was is not lost in this circus." She moved her clawed hands and murmured then teleported away with a hum and flash of arcane energies.
Wrathion clenched his fists. That had not gone as well as he would have liked. He had hoped the two would be far more amenable to the general plan of a powerful army of orcs. At least they hadn't outright refused so they were somewhat reasonable in that respect. Their adamant responses against Garrosh were unsurprising.Their concerns about Garrosh were not unfounded, which irked Wrathion to the most. But these were the tools he had and he would make them work.
Conquest left no question of leadership. The Alliance could bend knee or it could break, but there would be one banner. He might lose allies, but Azeroth was more important.
"The bronze dragon won't like it that you've told one of Azeroth's best assassins and one of the more powerful mages to see Garrosh dead," Right said after an uncomfortable silence.
"I don't care about Hellscream. I care about Azeroth." Wrathion snapped. He shifted shape and resumed tearing apart the bandicoot carcass. He needed to sink his claws into something. "The Alliance had their chance and Wrynn was too weak to seize it. They are unfit. Let Garrosh build a war machine then die. The bronze can mourn alone if he wants. The war machine will unify the world."
Right bowed her head in acceptance.
"We remaining here?" Left asked.
"For the night. We'll leave at dawn."
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Elsewhere. We need a new base of operations. If I get the Bronze back, then we'll have additional items to discuss. But there is little sense planning until I have further information about Kairoz."
"I have a suggestion, your majesty," Right said. "Though you might not like it. Booty Bay."
Pirates. Ugh. Well at least the location would give him access to information. It was also pleasantly warm. It would only be temporary.
"It will do," he said, nodding at her. "If we have access to any more mages, we'll teleport off this continent. I would rather not spend the time sailing."
"Yes your majesty."
"Of, course, Prince Wrathion."
Wrathion poked at the bandicoot but found her had little appetite. He kicked the carcass off the edge of the overlook then settled in to sleep as night fell. His dreams will filled with the clash of metal, the roar of forges and the flickering green of felfire.
[11]
The Strangethorn Vale was warm. That was the most positive thing Wrathion could say about the area. He'd discovered he didn't like the taste of jungle cat nor great ape and he'd never preferred fish, which left pickings slim. The food wasn't anywhere near what he'd grown accustomed to in Pandaria. In Booty Bay, if the food wasn't biting back, it was salted and shriveled. Or boiled. Or salted and dried and then boiled in salty water. The air was moist more often than not, which left him feeling chilled in the evenings. During the day he felt like he was swimming through the air. They'd had the unfortunate luck to arrive in the monsoon season which meant it rained constantly so he was trapped indoors.
There were pirates everywhere. They were loud and usually drunk and seemed to find any sort of excuse to be generally obnoxious. Showy and ostentatious, Wrathion felt he had yet to meet one that had any sort of class at all. The rogues he'd grown up around had been far more preferable; they at least possessed some modicum of class. They were also more quiet as might be expected from persons who usually made their living being unobtrusive.
They had been here for a week and he already hated Booty Bay. At least the rooms his people had acquired were somewhat reasonable. They'd been the captain's quarters on what had formerly been a sailing ship of some sort. It and several unfortunate brethren had been repurposed into a warren of buildings affixed to the side of a sharp cliff.
Thunder rolled outside and the building creaked as a gale of wind buffeted the cove. Over the downpour, Wrathion could hear the revelry from the inn below. He'd counted five ships in port and the crews were all apparently on liberty. Another roar of laughter drowned out even the thunder and Wrathion sighed, shutting the tome he'd been reading.
Shifting shape into his true form he stretched out and flew a few laps around the small room. He landed on the broad bench before the stained glass windows on the rear wall, and peeked outside. A gust of wind blew cool rainwater inside, several fat drops hitting the whelp in the face. He shut the window with a grumble. This was not weather suitable for a black dragon. His limbs ached, wishing to go outside and fly. Wrathion settled for picking up the heavy tome in careful claws and flying laps with the improvised weight.
He truly hated Booty bay. Oh why couldn't his twice damned father have wiped this titan-forsaken locale off the map? It smelled of rotten fish, stale beer and unwashed pirate. Wrathion picked up a second tome on his fifth lap around the room. After a week of doing it, he felt as if he weren't as winded by the end of his impromptu exercise regime, so at least that was something.
The candle guttered as the suite's door opened and closed. Wrathion's "room" was little more than an ornate tapestry hung across the rear half of the cabin. Sighing, he set the books back on the table and resumed his human form, rolling his shoulders as he approached the curtain.
Left had returned, rain sliding off the slick cloak she wore. She stepped to one side and hung the cloak by the fire. The smell of wet fur preceded the hulking shape behind her. The worgen male was huge even for a worgen. His pointed ears were notched from fighting and a thick scar crossed the pad of his nose. He'd worn a cloak as well, but the rain got everywhere.
"You smell like wet dog! Out of mah way ye filthy cur," a brash voice said. The dwarf who'd been standing behind him, shoved the intimidating worgen aside as he stepped into the room.
"Cur?" the worgen mused, his voice a soft, cultured, Gilnean purr. "Mmm perhaps I should shake off this rainwater like a dog then," the worgen mused, one claw tapping his lower jaw.
"Don' ye dare!" The dwarf growled. Turning to Wrathion, the dwarf bowed. "Yer Majesty." The worgen bent knee behind him with a sweeping bow.
"Master Flintrock," Wrathion said, inclining his head to the dwarf. "Master Grey," he said, acknowledging the worgen. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to the area before the fire. He took a chair, the nicest, and settled in for the audience. The two shed their rain cloaks and hung them up by the fire. Flintrock pulled up a stool and Grey settled into a comfortable crouch near the fireplace.
"We managed to get the safehouses set up as requested," Flintrock said. "It's a wee bit smaller than requested."
"How much smaller?"
"Well, when you asked for a remote farmstead in a highly defensible position, yer highness, the problem is most of those places are already occupied. So on short notice, ah, we had to improvise."
Wrathion had the urge to rub his temples. He settled for gripping the arm of his chair. "What were you able to accomplish?"
"Well, we secured a small place outside of Darkshire. There's also a small hunting lodge in Dun Morough," the dwarf said. He nodded at his compatriot.
"I was able to secure a townhouse in Stormwind. It has the benefit of access to the canals and sewer systems, your majesty. Few who have reclaimed their lands outside of the city are willing to give them up."
Wrathion's lips thinned but he nodded. He wanted to move out of this blasted jungle. "Good work. What is the mood in those areas?"
"Mixed, your highness," Grey answered. "Opinions were mixed beforehand about how to handle Garrosh. The result of the trial has... left many feeling unsure and uncertain. Prevailing opinion was that the capture of Garrosh was a victory which has been taken from them."
The dwarf shifted a bit in his seat, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. "The attack was carried out by Dragonmaw Orcs. I know and this great beast knows that the new guy they got in charge isn't a friend o' that lot. But average person in the Alliance doesn't see it that way. They just see that someone very bad managed to escape with the help of orcs."
"Do you have something to say?" Wrathion asked, his voice sharp.
The dwarf held up a hand and ducked his eyes. "I figure you had reasons for doin' what ye did. And I pledged m'self to trust that. But it'd been damn hard to defend it when I don't know m'self why."
The worgen huffed out a low growl. "I've lost a few guards. They speak of madness, your majesty."
Wrathion rose. "I am not mad!"
"Aye. We know that. The core of your people know that."
Wrathion turned to the fire, chin in hand. "The bronze dragon wished to use Garrosh as a tool. He believed Wrynn was too weak and that Garrosh, with guidance, could be pointed at the Legion. When he had served his purpose I would see him dead. Kairoz apparently changed plans on me, and he will regret crossing me. Crossing us." He included them with a gesture. The two men leaned forward slightly to catch his words better over the low rumble of thunder. "He has hindered my ability to get this world ready for the coming conflict. He has made those who were once loyal turn their backs in fear. But you and those who have remained with me still have work to do. And we will do it. Azeroth is more important than our vengeance, but he will pay. We will make him pay."
The two nodded, eyes gleaming in the fire. The dwarf's hands itched to grasp his axe, the worgen had bared his fangs in a feral grin.
"That's why we've been on the lookout for the bronze, then. He need a new extra holes, your highness?" Grey asked, the sharp teeth appearing to be sharper against the coal black fur.
"Yes, eventually. But until I can confront him, we need to continue to build here. That means expanding our network." Wrathion inclined his head to them slightly. "You've both done well to help secure things for our use in the eastern kingdoms."
The worgen's ears twitched in acknowledgement and the dwarf nodded firmly. They were solid operatives and he knew he could count on them; knew it with the same sense of absolute faith he had in the feel of earth under his feet. Their loyalty, like the earth could erode and shift, but unless great things happened, they would remain solid. The revelation of his part in Garrosh's escape had not lost them. They would see his plans to the end.
"Keep your eyes and ears open for rumors of bronze dragons. I hope to move out of this titan-forsaken location soon." He gestured and the two rose, bowing once more.
"Your majesty," they murmured. They took their cloaks and slipped out of the room, laughing and teasing one another, their moods considerably lighter. Wrathion turned from them and noticed Left's speculative look from her quiet seat at the table, her gun spread out before her.
"Left?"
She stood and bowed. Wrathion frowned then shook his head. "Any word from Ms. Right?"
The orc woman resumed her maintenance of the weapon. "This place is too wet but we get a surprisingly fast turn around time with mail and messages," she said. "Word came in with those two," she said, nodding. "Stormhoof should be arriving tomorrow with his update on Klaimdor."
"Good."
Thunder cracked overhead and the downpour doubled. Wrathion rolled his eyes and shifted into his true form. "If you need me, I shall be napping in the fireplace."
He made a quick nest of the pleasantly burning logs, adding a few more to extend the life of the fire, and curled up to sleep.
[12]
The rain continued to increase in violence throughout the night waking Wrathion at odd hours. Right had not yet returned from her tasks abroad, but then the rain likely kept her gryphon grounded. He finally found sleep after pulling a few more logs onto the fire, the crackle and snap drowning out the rain.
Dawn broke to blessed silence, the sun finally showing itself through the clouds. Wrathion woke amid smouldering coals. It was a disadvantage of sleeping inside the fire but one easily solved. He added another log to the pile and set it, and himself, on fire. The soot and dust burned away and he took a moment to enjoy the fire bath before stepping out onto the stones. He let his scales cool as he stretched and flexed, arching his back and wings and working out the kinks. He groomed away the remaining dust and then preened the supple hide of his wings before resuming his human shape and taking a look outside.
Right had not yet returned and Left was absent. Outside the early morning fishermen were standing in a row at the docks, steaming mugs at their elbows or in their free hands as they observed their lines. Seagulls called and the horizon was a brilliant pink. Even the sea was calm, the waves barely audible as they fell to the small shore. The door opened and Wrathion closed the window.
Left had returned with breakfast. By some miracle there was boar sausage and the bread looked fresh and smelled warm and amazing. Cinnamon and sugar had been melted and painted across the tops of the little circular rolls and Wrathion found his mouth watering.
"Word from Right?" he asked as he fell upon breakfast.
Left finished chewing her boar sausage, she had agreed with him that the food here was abysmal, and answered. "No sign yet. Word from four more of the Talons in the mail. They await your instructions."
"We need another set of guards here and we should send a few to assist Masters Grey and Flintrock."
"I'll see it done," Left answered. There was a knock at the door.
The two exchanged a look and Wrathion nodded at his bodyguard. She armed herself and checked the door. Wrathion had two talons watching his quarters but there was always a chance that they'd been quietly removed; Wrathion had not earned many friends for assisting Karioz. Wrathion slipped a blade out of a sleeve and held it under the table.
Left stepped away from the door and admitted the visitor, a tall tauren brave with only one horn and a braided beard. He found Wrathion and bowed before coming forward. Wrathion replaced the blade and stood.
"Master Stonehoof."
"I'd have been here yesterday but the storm prevented me from leaving," the tauren said, bowing his head.
"Understood. What do you have to report?" He gestured for the tauren to take a seat.
He did so delicately. The stool creaked under his bulk but held. "I have been unable to secure land as you asked for. Few are selling and those who were are reluctant to sell to a known Black Talon," he admitted with a grimace. "Another intermediary may have better luck, my Prince."
Wrathion fumed, but attempted to keep it out of his voice. "I see. Make those arrangements."
He bowed his head. "I will. In the matter of raw materials and arms I was somewhat more successful. Those items have been secured. Half are being held in a goblin facility, the other half in a hunting lodge I and two others built in Stonetalon."
Wrathion allowed a small smile. "That is good news. You've done well."
The tauren smiled and bowed his head in acknowledgement. "If I may, Prince Wrathion, I do have a minor item which should be brought to your attention."
Wrathion gestured for him to speak.
The tauren took a breath and, with some reluctance it seemed, spoke. "Baine Bloodhoof has issued a proclamation to his people. He has said that those who stood with you are forgiven if they step away now. Those who remain in your service are to consider themselves unwelcome on Thunder Bluff."
Wrathion blinked. "What?"
Stonehoof bowed his head again. "I was not so welcome there before so this does not change my allegiance, my prince. But there are others among my people who may heed the high chieftan in truth. Some may deny their loyalty to you outwardly yet remain part of our cause but... such is not the usual way of my people."
"He... He blackened my name?" Wrathion rose.
The tauren bowed his head. "He feels that the sentence of the Celestials should have been carried out. Garrosh should have been imprisoned until his death or rehabilitation." Stonehoof frowned. "He paints you with the same brush as he does the rogue bronze dragon, mercenaries and the Dragonmaw Orcs who helped him escape.
"I am not in league with Dragonmaw!" Wrathion roared.
"I know, my prince-"
He was interrupted by loud shouting down the hallway and the heavy tread of boots. Wrathion looked up. Left was already on her feet, weapon in hand. The guard at the door opened it and Right sprinted into the room.
"The Dark Portal!" she blurted as she skid to a halt. She saluted Wrathion. "The portal is open. Orcs are invading. They've established a beachhead in the blasted lands and are rendezvousing with the Dragonmaw." Right took a deep breath then let it out. "They call themselves the Iron Horde. They come from Draenor."
Wrathion stood. "Come. Gather our things. We're leaving."
And it had been such a quiet morning.
[13]
"Word came from The Mage," Right said as her gryphon's wings beat at the air. She lifted her voice so that Left could hear as well. "She's been deployed with Archmage Khadgar and other Alliance Vanguard. They intend to land on the shore, cut off the Iron Horde already here and close the portal. Those who have made their way inland are to be hunted down."
"Do we know how the Horde are responding?" He asked.
"Not yet!" Right called over the wind. "But The Mage says word has come down that if the Horde show up to fight the invaders, they're to be welcomed to help. If they show up to assist the invaders, they are to be shown no mercy.".
"Do we know about the Iron Horde's combat capabilities yet?" Wrathion asked. His heart beat quickly in his chest. Was this it? Had Karioz come through after all? Was this the beginning of Garrosh's invasion? Perhaps he didn't need to kill the Bronze after all.
He would still kill Garrosh. Eventually. He was far too insane to allow to live. But hopefully he'd done as Karioz had told him to do and here was the glorious new, strong Iron Horde. That they'd been able to advance so far into Azeroth already spoke well of the plan.
If the Alliance Vanguard was to driven back and crushed under the onslaught, it would be over.
It might take years for the Alliance to be crushed entirely, but it would be done. The Dark Portal was located in the Eastern Kingdoms, not too far from Stormwind and Ironforge. If the Iron Horde could crush those kingdoms, the rest would fall in line shortly. The Dranei and the Night Elves would retreat to their strongholds of Darnassus and the Exodar. Once the Legion arrived, they would join the fight. All Vol'jin needed to do was withhold his forces and let the Iron Horde break the Alliance. Or better yet, join his forces with the Iron Horde's. No sense in wasting perfectly able champions!
Wrathion's shifted from side to side, tail swinging. It wasn't like the Bronze dragon to be late, but if he'd been busy building their salvation, Wrathion supposed he could be forgiven. They were a somewhat scatterbrained flight anyway.
The ground below them changed from lush jungles to, murky swamp to arid, broken landscape, red rocks and sand as they flew in a wide arc around the location of the portal. Heavy mechanical siege engines had been erected or brought through the portal already. From the high vantage point, Wrathion could see supply lines had already begun to worm. They'd destroyed the local keep in the area and were pushing north and inland, towards Blackrock Mountain.
"Incoming!" Left called, pointing at dark shapes sweeping in from the north.
Wrathion's eyes followed to where she indicated. Winged shapes on the horizon, coming from the north.
"Perhaps we should land," he said. The shapes were protodrakes which meant these were likely Dragonmaw Orcs. "Given all that has transpired perhaps it would be best if we waited until Kairoz or one of his emissaries reveals himself.
Right pulled on the reins and the graphon spiraled in to land, the rest of Wrathion's party following on their own mounts. Finding a sheltered area which allowed them to watch but not be seen, they settled in to wait.
"Alliance," Right said, pointing east. Sure enough, a wing of armored gryphons was flying in their direction.
They watched as the protodrakes passed, heading for the Dark Portal, then part of the group veered to the side. Gryphons in Alliance barding met them in the sky with the rest dove through the portal. Fire from ships off the coast peppered the area and announced that they'd arrived just ahead of the Alliance fleet.
"And now we shall see who is stronger," Wrathion stated, feeling quite satisfied with the turn of events.
[14]
The wing of gryphons dove, the warriors mounted on their backs hurling spells and firing ranged weapons as their mounts stooped. The orcs retaliated with weapons of their own. The fight in the sky drew the attention of the orcs below and soon fire from the ground peppered the gryphons of the Alliance. The wing turned away then dove for another attack. They reminded Wrathion of small birds diving at a much larger hawk.
"They seem remarkably well established," Wrathion mused as he looked down on the battle from a prudent distance. "How long has this been going on?" He turned to look at Right. "When did they arrive?"
"A bit more than a week ago."
"A week! And already they have done so much. Remarkable."
"More sails on the horizon," Left said as she looked through her scope.
"The Alliance gryphons are retreating."
"This was just an opening sortee. They're testing their defenses," Right said as she viewed the battlefield with a small spyglass. Looked on the battlefield with her own eyes. "Those big cannons are going to be an issue if they have the range to hit ships in the water. The Alliance won't be able to land well. Will have to rely on mages."
"The supply lines extend to Blackrock you say?"
Right nodded. "I was actually on my way back with a related report on that when word started to get around of the invasion here. The Talons we had watching the Dragonmaw say that Zaela and her people have been working their way into the area."
Wrathion grimaced. "We'll need an updated report on her. If she knew more of what to expect than I did, there will be a reckoning," Wrathion muttered the last under his breath.
"I'll see what I can find, your highness," Right offered. "I had the Talons maintain a watch."
Wrathion looked around. "Can you avoid the battle?" He nodded at the Alliance ships drawing closer on the horizon. They were escorted by the wings shapes of more gryphons.
"I can, your Highness."
"Then go and see what Zaela is up to. Take Grey with you," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his paw. She bowed then the two flew away at speed, keeping well out of the range of the devastating fire from below.
Ogres walked patrols and made camps. Orcs, their skin uncorrupted brown, walked in loose but disciplined groups. In the distance he could see smoke rising from Nethergarde keep. Battle had ruined some of the walls and buildings still burned. He lifted his eyes to the sky and noticed they did not appear to have much in the way of aerial support. At least not yet. If Garrosh's forces were to rendezvous with Zaela's then they would soon have air support for certain.
"Your highness," Left said, drawing his attention.
"Yes?"
She wordlessly handed him the scope from her rifle so he might see what she did. She pointed to the sails on the horizon. Wrathion shifted shape and brought the glass to his eye. Not all of the sails were blue. Some were red.
"What?" Wrathion snarled, checking the sight with his own eyes. "No! Vol'jin cannot be that much of an idiot!" He checked again and sure enough there were were sails bearing the markings of the Horde on the horizon, and they were not attacking the Alliance vessels.
"Your highness."
"After everything this is the perfect opportunity!"
"Your highness!"
"He only needed to sit back and let Wrynn destroy himself on this army!"
"My Prince!" Left hauled him bodily away.
"What?" he huffed out as her arm took him across the middle and pulled him to the side.
A fireball landed where they'd been standing. The Ogre who'd cast the magic stood on an adjoining hilltop and was already conjuring another. The wyvern spat and hissed, shaking out his wings and thrashing his tail. Left knocked the barbed tail aside, and hoisted Wrathion onto the saddle.
"Go!" Stonehoof, bellowed. He pulled battered and worn claws from his belt and drew out a small set of totems. He called to the Earth and to Fire and Wrathion felt a gentle ripple as the elements responded. Rock and stone formed into a shape that suggested arms and body. It raced ahead at the Ogre. Fire swirled and coalesced then began to hurl returning fire at the Ogre. The air sizzled as the disgraced Shaman called lightning to his hands.
Wrathion watched mutely as the wyvern took off, Left smothering him against the saddle and the beast's course fur. The creature's flight was erratic as more fire chased them through the sky. Gunfire on his level came from the dwarf, Flintrock. He held a rifle with one hand and the reigns of his gryphon with the other.
Left's wyvern screamed. A moment later Wrathion felt hot liquid on one of his legs. Blood, but whose? He clung to the saddle as their erratic flight took them further inland low over the trees. The shriek of something and the war bellow of an orc followed. Left pulled on the reins and the wyvern juked to one side then down between the trees of the dark swamp. They wove between the twisted, moss covered trunks at speed, naked branches dragging fingers across Wrathion's shoulders and legs. Wood shattered as a bullet impacted a trunk. Left jerked her reins to the side and the wyvern followed, spinning in the air as Left brought up her rifle. Her shot hit the pursuing orc in the chest even as he fired. Left grunted beside him.
The orc roared in rage as he bled, his strange two-headed beast roaring in counterpart. Fintrock's gryphon dove from above, raking her talons across one of the heads of the creature. Flintrock lashed out with the butt of his gun as he flew past, drawing the orc's anger and the next two shots. He didn't get off a third. Left's shot removed much of his head. The body fell off the beast which appeared to be angry about the attack and confused without a rider. Shrieking and growling the mount fell on the orc's body and began to eat it.
"How bad?" Flintrock, asked as he brought his gryphon beside them.
"I'll live. Let's go."
"Aye, lass." He hauled the dark travelling cape out of his saddlebag and tossed it over to her.
"I think people might notice a wyvern more than an orc," she said as she spurred her mount back into the sky just above the canopy.
"Then use it as a bandage," Flintrock said as he drew in to fly beside them.
"I'll be fine," she said. "My Prince, are you wounded?"
Wrathion's head was spinning. He shifted shape so he could fit on the saddle a bit more easily. Nothing appeared to be damaged. He twisted around looking to see the state of his scales. There were some minor scrapes from the trees but that was hardly anything.
"I am unharmed," he said, turning to face her. He was about to compliment them both on their fine reflexes and wondered about Stonehoof's ability to escape when he noted Left's arm was covered in blood. A gash as wide as his forepaw had been carved from her arm. "You're wounded!"
"I'll live," she repeated.
Thunder rumbled strangely behind them and Wrathion wondered about Stonehoof. The blasts were accompanied by flashes of light from land and sea and he realized the Iron Horde was engaging the Alliance and the Horde's forces.
"We can't go far," Wrathion said.
"Duskwood would be the safest, my Prince," she said.
"Right is still here. She's further into Iron Horde Territory. And Stonehoof is still back there."
"No," Left said. "He's not."
"We can't just leave! I need to see what they are doing! Can't we bring in the Talons in Duskwood?"
Left frowned then bowed her head slightly. "As you wish. Your life is paramount." She scowled and turned her mount towards a rocky outcrop.
The beast's breaths were labored and it made little pained sounds as it flew. Wrathion could smell blood: orc and wyvern. He settled down onto the saddle as they descended to land, the dwarf quickly tying his mount and beginning to secure the area while Left moved a bit more slowly. Wrathion resumed his human shape.
"Tend to your arm," he said, taking her rifle and detaching the scope. "I'll keep watch."
She grimaced as she slid off the wyvern, but nodded.
This far from the battle, Wrathion needed the aid of the scope. Fire fell from the sky, lightning flashed and arcane energies exploded violet starbursts. The deep, heavy cadence of cannons rolled like thunder. Wrathion gritted his teeth and watched, unable to act, as waves of Horde and Alliance crashed against the Iron Horde.
[15]
Left cleaned the wound with some water from a canteen, smothered her arm with something that had an acidic, pungent smell then wrapped it with a bandage. The dwarf helped her tie it off then the two pulled the bushes around until they had covered the area from above. Flintrock nodded then left on his mount to retrieve the Talons in Duskwood.
The wyvern licked its wound and hissed whenever anyone approached. Left grabbed its ear and it whimpered as she prodded the wound on the side. Eventually she rubbed more of the pungent salve onto the beast. While it sulked, Left joined Wrathion in his watch.
The battle was still ongoing, which he found somewhat surprising. The Iron Horde had brought their canons around, ogres and orcs alike wheeling them into position to fire on their enemies. The shells they fired were heavy, visible even from this distance, and explosive. There were casualties on all sides. A flaw in the design of the cannons appeared to be that if they were struck at the right place and time, they would explode.
Wings of gryphons and wyverns flew from above, dropping bombs and spellfire. He could see flashes of Light as paladins called down spectral hammers to flatten their foes and shield their allies. Mages on both sides hurled fire and ice at one another. He could not see the other warriors but he imagined that the forces brought to bear against Garrosh's invasion forces would be as diverse as those brought to fight him in Orgrimmar.
The goblin zeppelin hovered out of range and stayed with the red sails of the Horde, who'd apparently kept to themselves on one side of the beach. The Alliance had stayed on their side of the beach as well. They were not fighting one another. Instead they fought the invasion.
Vol'jin was as much a fool as Varian was, and just as disappointing. Wrathion might have expected as much from Baine Bloodhoof, but the troll had always stuck Wrathion as far more pragmatic than this. It was almost a shame Sylvanas hadn't claimed leadership.
Another set of ships drew close from the Horde contingent and Wrathion felt a tremble deep in the Earth. A moment later a line of spiked earth erupted through the sand, destroying several of the canons and allowing the other Horde ships and the zeppelin to approach. Thrall, or Go'el, or whatever the damnable green, usurping bastard wished to call himself, had arrived.
The Iron Horde recovered and warriors swarmed over the dunes like a disturbed colony of mantids. From the Alliance there was a burst of violet light on one of the ships and then an answering burst on the beach. Violet explosions preceded more fire and ice and a sudden half-dome of arcane energy. From the dome warriors of the Alliance started to stream forth to do combat.
"Looks like someone from the Kirin Tor showed up," he mused. "I imagine Lady Proudmoore thinks she will get her revenge now."
Left peered outwards into the falling night. Wrathion handed her the scope and she examined the battlefield. "Not frost magic," she commented. "Arcane." Left pursed her lips then said, in a hushed tone, "Could be Archmage Modera."
"I suppose it is true Proudmoore prefers frost," he mused. He wasn't too familiar with this Modera person, but Left seemed to have some respect for him, whoever he was.
As the light of day faded he watched in growing consternation as the Iron Horde was pushed back by the Alliance and Horde forces. By an hour before sunset, the Iron Horde commander had apparently decided to let them have the beach and had firmed up his battle line. The way to Blackrock remained secure. Many couriers flew in and out of the camp on protodrakes or the off two-headed beasts.
"We should prepare for the night."
"This soon?" Wrathion asked, turning away from the withdrawing combatants.
"I want to hide our camp before the sun is gone." She bowed her head. "It will be cold soon and fire would not be a wise idea this night."
Wrathion sighed. "Very well."
He ate only a little jerky. He had no appetite. Left formed more bushes into makeshift walls. With their backs against a hard rock, they huddled close in the little wooden cavern she'd created. She draped the dull brown saddle blanket across the entrance and Wrathion carefully blew flames on some rocks to keep them at least a little warm. The brush was not perfect insulation by any means, but it did appear to conceal them.
As night fell and hunting beasts began to lurk in the forest, he was somewhat relieved that the combined smell of wyvern and dragon appeared to ward off creatures here as well. He settled on the big flat rock he'd heated, tucking his paws under and curling his tail tightly to conserve heat. It wasn't as dreadful a temperature drop as in a desert but it was unpleasant.
Stonehoof was likely dead, which was a shame. He'd liked the old shaman well enough. His loyalty was unquestionable. His abilities, atrophied as they were, were useful. He had also been a major source of information in the Mulgore area. Wrathion wondered if Grey and Right had faired as poorly as they had. The dwarf had hopefully avoided death as well on his flight to Duskwood. With a full compliment of his Talons he would have many, many more options. And Left...
"How is your arm?" For once he regretted his lack of ability to heal wounds as a red dragon could. He would easily bestow such favor on loyal champions.
"I'll live."
"Does it require more attention?"
She grunted. "Nothing stuck in there. Long as it doesn't get infected it should be fine."
He shifted on the rock. She'd saved his life and had been wounded in the process. It was her duty but all the same, he felt strange. He'd almost died. The last uncorrupted black dragon, killed by something as mundane as a fireball. From an Ogre no less. From an army he'd had some paw in building.
He buried his head under a wing and shuddered. He would not cry like some weak human child or pandaren cub. He was Wrathion, the Black Prince. Princes did not cry. Dragons did not cry. They especially did not cry when their favored minions were cunning enough to avoid death. One had died, but his personal bodyguard had not. That he knew of.
Wrathion shook. He had not often been near death himself. The last time it had been this close, this personal, had been Fahrad. Left was still alive and while Stonehoof's demise was regrettable it had been a sacrifice freely given to get him out of danger and away. Away from the army he had helped a treacherous bronze build.
A small blanket was placed over his back. It smelled of wyvern, orc and pandaren spices. The sudden weight startled him and he untucked his head from his wing.
"Try to get some sleep, your highness. I will keep watch." Left told him.
He grunted an affirmative noise and huddled under the blanket. He watched the horizon through a crack in the shelter. Moonlight glittered on the water, outlining the dark shapes of the tallships anchored out of the range of the deadly canons. Blue sails beside red, separate yet fighting the common enemy. Sleep did not come easily or soon.
[16]
Dawn broke to the sounds of cannon fire.
Wrathion's rock had grown cold in the night and the air in the little shelter was damp with morning mist. The wyvern still snoozed in the corner, its feline snout tucked under a wing, one ear twitching occasionally. Left not there but familiar voices spoke outside. Wrathion could smell breakfast. Likely this meant one of the groups had returned. Possibly even both.
He rose to stretch and get a report of the day. Sometime in the night a second blanket had been added to the first. Yawning, he shifted shape, folded the blankets neatly then went outside.
The Talons from Darkshire had arrived sometime in the night and the small camp area had been expanded. A fishing net covered in all manner of leaf-litter, branches and the hanging moss from the local trees protected the area from being spotted from above. A dranei, one side of her face deeply scarred, was tending to the miniscule campfire. The human across from her stirred a pot of what smelled like oatmeal. There were worgen in the trees and a human hunter was snoozing against his lounging pandaren tiger. They looked relaxed but he knew from Pandaria that it was largely an act. His Talons would respond at a moment's notice. Left and Flintrock were absent however.
"Prince Wrathion," a high voice greeted. The gnome put away his blade and hopped off the rock he'd been sitting on. "Good morning," he said, sweeping into a bow. "Lady Left sends her compliments. She's trying to do some early morning recon."
Wrathion nodded. "Thank you. When did you arrive?"
"Probably four hours ago, your highness. We have breakfast on the way and guards to secure the area. If we don't see Lady Left by night she's requested you move to Duskwood. If we're attacked, we've been ordered to take you there, your Highness."
Wrathion nodded. "I see."
"Do you need anything, your Highness"
Wrathion waved him off. "What can you tell me about the status of the battle? I see the ships are still here."
The gnome put his blades away and hopped back on the rock to be at eye-level with Wrathion. "They started bombardment just a bit ago. The Alliance has been teleporting in additional forces since we arrived and the Horde has had three zeppelins drop contingents of warriors. The horde have claimed the high ground out of direct fire. The Alliance has dug in on the beach but they're holding off those cannons. We don't know the status of our forces who went on recon or what the Iron Horde is doing at Blackrock."
Wrathion frown then waved off the rogue. "Thank you, Master Fizzbang."
"Your highness," he bowed.
Wrathion ate a little but his eyes were on the constant battle going on in the distance. He hated not knowing what was going on, but unless he approached himself there was little he was going to be able to discover. He was contemplating just that when one of the worgen let out a small warning growl.
"Incoming!"
The camp jumped to defensive positions in good order but Wrathion waved them down. He could see the details the others could not. "It's Left. Looks like she's found the others."
The group relaxed slightly, the guards returning to their posts, the others to their previous activities, though they kept wary eyes on the sky. The gryphons landed and deposited their passengers around the small camp. Right's hair was a mess and there was a scratch across her face. Master Grey had dark, blood-matted fur on one side of his head but his eyes were clear. Left's shoulder bandage had bled through and the dwarf had rubble in his beard. The gryphons fluffed their feathers and shifted in place once they landed.
"Medic Ali," Wrathion called.
"On it, your highness!" The woman who'd been tending the food was already on her feet with a small kit of medical supplies. She began to see to Grey's injuries.
Right ran a hand through her hair, dislodging some rubble. She smelled of gunpowder, blackrock and iron slag. What gave him pause was the fear in her eyes.
"Your highness," she said, the urgency in her voice set him on edge.
"Report."
"Zaela and the Dragonmaw have taken Blackrock. They're building something. We got in and were able to hear some of it. There's a plot against Stormwind. Some big weapon they're forging in there. Zaela's got a grudge. I think she means to somehow blow up the city. We couldn't get close enough to find the details."
Wrathion arched an eyebrow then frowned. While something which could destroy Stormwind would end the war before it started. The Alliance would never recover. He nodded. "Is there something else?"
Her jaw clenched briefly. "I know there are Alliance scouts in the area. I saw some. Which means I didn't see the others. They probably know something even if they don't know the details."
He nodded and looked between the two bodyguards. "Who's in charge of the assault?"
"Of the Iron Horde, an orc named Gar'mak Bladetwist," Right answered.
Left spoke up. "On the Alliance Side there's a Dranei named Maraad talking with The Mage. Archmage Khadgar's in the field," she said with visible relief. "Horde side, Thr- Shaman Go'el is in the field."
"It's a pretty mixed group both sides," Right continued. "Lots of champions are being deployed. Wrynn and Vol'jin seem serious about shutting down the invasion before Garrosh's forces make it further."
"Any of my champions or allies?"
"The Rogue let me see her," Right said. "She's killing Iron Horde trying to stealth past the front lines. Her kill count is... impressive. The Mage is part of the group attempting to retake Nethergarde keep. I've seen others but those are the two most prominent names."
"The Iron Horde has set up a beachhead," Left said, crouching to draw out the area with her dagger. "Their forces are a mix of casters and warriors. Mostly orc but some ogres. They've set up an encampment here and the battlelines between the forces from the portal and the forces from Azeroth are here," she said inscribing some lines in the dirt. "The Iron Horde felt back from the beach. They've dug in to Okril'lon. I believe that might be where the commander is located." She marked the relative area on the improvised map, dropping stones to mark the mountain ridge."
"Any sign of Kairoz?"
"None, your highness," Left said.
"He wasn't at Blackrock either," Right added.
Wrathion scowled. He needed this to work, needed the Horde and Alliance to stop their pointless struggle and bend knee to the Iron Horde. He was about to solicit ideas for how to sabotage the Horde and Alliance efforts when a gryphon descended at speed. The Talons in the clearing reached for their weapons until the all clear was given. It was one of their own. The gryphon dropped to the ground and raced over, the human ride still mounted.
"Movement in the camps!" he said, hopping off his mount. He skid to a halt in front of Wrathion. "The Iron Horde is in disarray! They're being pushed back to the portal."
"What? What happened?" Wrathion asked.
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I was told to report in if there was any change. The ground forces of both sides are fighting the Iron horde back towards the portal."
Wrathion found the eyes of his bodyguards. "I need to see."
Left's scowl deepened. Right's expression tightened. Nevertheless they began quietly issuing orders for him to move out with an escort. There were about a dozen Talons present now, not counting his bodyguards. Half would escort him. The rest would play the part of scout or remain in the camp.
Midmorning found Wrathion seated on a gryphon with Right while Left and the others had formed a tight honor guard. The dranei mage held a veil of invisibility over the party as they crossed into the Horde then Alliance airspace before landing on the nearby mountain.
"Neseema can hold this for about twenty minutes total, your highness," Right advised in a quiet voice by his ear.
"Noted," Wrathion acknowledged.
On the beach below he could see that the lines had indeed advanced into the Iron Horde's territory despite all sense of rationality. "How are they doing this?" Wrathion hissed.
"Looks more disorganized than before," Right said, frowning as she viewed the battlefield though binoculars. "Nethergarde is back in Alliance hands." She looked on with her own eyes, scowling. "Ogres aren't fighting well. The Horde warriors are ripping them to shreds. The Alliance line has even turned some of those big cannons on the Iron Horde."
The Iron Horde looked leaderless and confused to Wrathion. He could not make out any of the champions he'd worked with, but he could see a large Draenei at the head of the Alliance assault, beside the human mage who'd been providing much of the arcane muscle. Khadgar. No signs of Wrynn or Proudmoore. Vol'jin was absent but Thrall was there bringing considerable power to bear as well.
"Analysis?"
"Someone killed the leadership," Right concluded.
Wrathion nodded. "The Rogue?"
"Possible."
"I don't see The Mage down there."
"Neither do I, your Highness. But... But I think I see some of ours." She pointed at a section of the field where two warriors in plate were smashing through the Iron Horde forces. One was a Tauren the other was a Night Elf. The pair wore dark plate and carried wicked looking runeblades in each hand. With chilling ice and deadly weapon skills they were cutting a path through their foes.
"Itolla and Calaena. A druid and a rogue before they were raised as Deathknights if I recall."
"Correct, your Highness. They were almost as deadly as the two champions, and they're full Talons."
"If so, then what are they doing down there?" Wrathion growled.
Right grimaced. "I don't know your Highness."
Wrathion blew out a breath. "We need people on the inside of those camps."
"Make contact?"
"Yes. We'll back off a bit so mage Neseema won't be burned out, but I need to speak with those two. I need to see where their loyalties are and if they are still loyal then they are of use." He gestured to the chaos of the battle. "There are still more forces being teleported in on both sides. It shouldn't be too hard for us to get into the camps."
Right bobbed a not. "Not hard at all, your Highness. I'll see it done."
In short order the group was hidden by more mundane means than magic and two of the more non-descript members of the Talons were deployed to the Horde and Alliance forces to make contact.
Wrathion watched the northern horizon. Blackrock was in the far distance, obscured by closer mountains, but it was there. He wondered what the near-break in the Iron Horde lines would mean for whatever Zaela was concocting inside the mountain. He returned his attention to the Alliance and Horde who were by all appearances winning against a force which should have destroyed them. He needed to act but he was once again uncertain how. He scowled, and waited.
[17]
The sun was high overhead when the two deathknights made their way up to the small impromptu encampment. The air had been unpleasantly muggy with biting insects as the wind blew from the land to the sea. As the two Deathknights stepped into the area, the air chilled noticeably and the buzzing insects fled from the cold.
Itolla, the tauren woman, was tall even for her race. She wore dark plate armor formed into the image flashfrozen branches. Red berries made of gemstones were affixed to the metal branches. They branches and berries were encased in real ice. The exposed fur on her face was black as were her horns. Her eyes glowed fathomless blue. The undead tauren had a serene air about her and strode into the middle of the encampment as if she were walking through a familiar field, showing little anxiety nor particular interest. An ear flick was the only sign of anything when she beheld Wrathion, seated on a rock in the center of the ring of Black Talons.
In stark contrast the night elf named Calaena could not seem to stand still. Her glowing blue eyes seemed to flicker as she looked around, assessing and evaluating those present. She was a very pale purple, the markings around her eyes bold in contrast to her undead skin. Her hair was long and white, but that could have been the color it was before she'd died. Her plate was Pandaren designed and bore the images of cloud serpents. Originally a brassy gold color, It had been smudged and blackened intentionally with some substance. Possibly they'd been operating at night. Fahrad had explained to Wrathion that the shine of metal could attract unwanted attention in firelight.
The tauren peered at him a moment then nodded and folded her hands in front of her. "What would you have me do, Black Prince?"
"Well for starters what have you been up to? You were not those who have been in contact since we moved our operations."
"Funeral," Itolla said. "After we left Pandaria I was told that a friend of mine had decided he was done with his unlife and it was time for him to return to the Earthmother. With Arthas dead, he felt his purpose was done. Our former brothers and sisters in the Cenarion circle gave him a final rest."
"I see."
She shrugged broad shoulders. "His work was done. Mine isn't. My Prince, I regret to inform you that Baine Bloodhoof has declared you and your supporters unwelcome in his territory."
Wrathion suppressed a sigh. "So Stonehoof has told me. It is good to have that information independently verified."
She inclined her head. "I came here because there was an invasion and the call went out for shields and swords. Our duty is the protect Azeroth."
He nodded and turned red eyes on the night elf. "And you?"
"Went home to try to mend some fences. Didn't work too well. Got tied up in settling my affairs once and for all." She bowed her head. "I was headed for Duskwood when the call went out to attend to matters here." She looked up at Wrathion. "There's a rumor going around, your highness. That you went mad."
"I am perfectly sane."
"Rumor is you helped Garrosh Hellscream escape. We were trying to destroy him last I heard."
Wrathion blew out a breath. "It was as a measure to ensure a stronger, more unified Horde which could conquer Azeroth. He would not have outlived his usefulness."
Caleana bowed her head.
Wrathion growled. "Kairoz was supposed to be puppeting Garrosh and his Iron Horde but has apparently betrayed me. I need to know who is in control of this Iron Horde. Is it Garrosh, Kairoz, or someone else. I need to make sure that their goals and aims align with ours and if they do not, then they need to be made to align. Which means I need people in the Alliance and Horde camps." He stood and walked towards the edge of the cliff. "What do you know so far?"
The night elf spoke up first. "I saw The Mage briefly earlier. She's on the team sent in to Blackrock. Will that disrupt your plans, your highness?"
"If Zaela isn't strong enough to repel the Alliance team then, she's not going to do much against the Legion. She'll have proven herself as weak as Wrynn and Vol'jin. If she is successful, she's already pledged herself to Garrosh's Iron Horde."
"The rumor is that the leader of the invasion is dead. Assassinated in the night," the tauren said.
"That would track with what I have seen," the other deathknight said. "They lack the cohesion of a central command."
Wrathion held up a hand and they fell silent. He looked at each of them, wondering at how loyal they truly were. He didn't have many options at the moment. These two were already integrated into the Alliance and Horde camps. As deathknights they had some autonomy from the typical factional split and were excellent tools with long reaches. They were also some of his more covert Talons. With Baine Bloodhoof taking a stand against him, and possibly others, he needed hidden blades.
"Kairoz's plan was to forge an infinite number of strong, uncorrupted Hordes from Draenor. They would advance on Azeroth and conquer. We would be united to face the Legion, our numbers bolstered many times over. The plan was not without its risks. One of those was the Bronze himself. Wrynn was too weak. Vol'jin only needed to join the invaders but he has chosen instead to fight. The Legion is coming and with it, the doom of all on Azeroth unless we are united under one banner. There can be no confusion or we will splinter and fall. There must be a clear victor, a clear ruler." Wrathion looked each deathknight in the eye. "I need you to be my eyes and ears in the camps. We have already lost too much time to Wrynn's weakness and to whatever mess the traitorous Bronze has wrought. Time grows short and our options grow fewer. You can do what no one else among my Talons can do."
The tauren lifted her chin, shoulders straightening. The antsy night elf grew still. Good. it did not take much to remind them of their place in the grander scheme of things. "Join the camps once more. If they move, move with them. Everything we do and have done has been for the good of Azeroth. Not everyone else will understand, Sometimes we need to make the hard choices, take the difficult stances, be the blade and shield when no one else can."
Itolla bowed her head. His words had been chosen to resonate with her, but they were not less true.
"We have a war on the horizon, but we can win it, here and now. We do what we must to protect Azeroth," he said, addressing the night elf. She nodded once, face stony. She'd been a sentinel.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes," the answered, their slightly metallic voices buzzing in the air.
"Good. Go before they notice you are gone and throw yet more obstacles in our way."
They bowed and left quickly, their strides determined. Wrathion watched after them with a sense of satisfaction. He felt as if he had almost seen when their doubts had fallen away. He turned back to the rest of the camp and was pleased to see renewed fire in their eyes as well.
"We'll move camp here," he said. "If the battle lines break down again we can move, but this seems to be a secure location and it will allow us to gather intelligence more easily." He grinned at the chorus of assent and returned his gaze to the battle lines. He gestured and Right and Left fell into place by his side.
"Thoughts on those two?" he asked.
"The tauren is unquestionable. She cares about Azeroth beyond even her own unlife," Left said.
"The night elf... She is very talented. With the tauren around to keep her steadfast she has been fine and committed, you gave her something to believe in again once Arthas was dead, but she is not at peace with her life as an undead warrior."
Wrathion nodded. He glanced back at the talons making preparations to move their small camp to this new locations then looked over the battlefield again. "There's a gnome rogue in our forces at present. Would he be able to slip into the Alliance forces?"
"Easily. He's a known mercenary but I see a number of those down there. His association with you is easily explained as hired muscle. Many champions sought your favor in Pandaria," Right reported.
"Send him in then. If the ebonbade breaks, we'll have a backup."
Right bowed and stepped away to make the arrangements.
"Shall I send one to the Horde side?" Left asked.
"Keep an eye on the tauren if you can, but I feel she won't be an issue."
"Of course, your highness."
He dismissed her with a gesture and watched as an arcane volley burst from the tall grey-haired human mage on the left flank. A rumble of earth was the only warning before the damned orc called for the ground to erupt under the feet of some Iron Horde repairing a canon.
Soon his talons would be in place and then... Then he'd be able to make something of this mess.