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Dawn of the Dragon	By : RotSeele Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 3875 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Forty-Three
Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, slipped.
His heel hit blood-soaked ground and his leg went out from under him, bringing him crashing to the ground. The air was forced out of his lungs and for a moment, he lost his grip on Shalamayne. The king lay stunned on his back for a split second, but that second allowed his opponent, a Dark Shaman, to get enough leverage to drive his mace downward toward Varian's chest. Varian's fingers found Shalamayne's hilt and he pulled the sword between him and the mace. The force of the blow still made his arm go slightly numb, but he ignored the feeling and lashed out with the blade, cutting the orc's middle in two. Varian struggled to his knees and took stock of the scene about him.
They were losing. A victory had become a rout, then had becomes victory again when Anduin and his small team had shown up. That victory too had been short-lived, and now Varian wondered how many of the Alliance warriors would walk off the battle-field today. He wondered if anyone would walk off at all. So many bodies - Alliance, Horde, Dark Horde - lay scattered about the land, some in pieces and a feast for gore crows, others in more "salvageable" form. Despite himself, Varian found a smile creeping onto his lips. He'd heard stories of the Dark Lady Sylvanas' comments during the Siege of Orgrimmar. He could only imagine what she'd do if she were here. Could the Forsaken actually still feel things like pleasure?
He wondered briefly about making that the next topic of discussion when he and Broll had the pleasure of a night alone and nothing to do. Wondered briefly, because he wasn't sure if he'd walk off this battle-field.
Varian struggled to his feet and engaged the closet enemy, driving the armored Orc back from the troll it had been harrowing. The troll gave Varian a nod, then turned to face the shaman coming at her from behind. With a powerful stroke of her sword, she took first the shaman's outstretched arm, then the orc's head. Varian faced the armored Orc alone, and quickly took stock of his newest enemy. Not young, but old enough to know better, the Orc was green-skinned and dressed in full plate armor. Seemingly, he had no weakness through which Varian could hope to win, but Varian had faced such opponents before. And he had been in less armor than he was wearing now. They stared at each other for the longest time, neither moving, both studying the other. Varian twitched his shoulder - and the Orc flinched.
Varian was surging forward in that moment, like an arrow shot from a bow. The Orc barely had time to get his blade up and in between him and Shalamayne's edge, and the resulting clamor of the two blades rang loudly in Varian's ears. Still, the king pushed forward, leveraging his blade against the orc's to push him back, giving Varian room to draw his blade back and move in for a flurry of moves that the Orc managed to either evade or block. Each time he blocked, though, he was driven a little further back, and his own sword chipped a little more. Varian kept on with the furious blows, mindful of where he was steering his enemy and mindful of where he put his feet. It would be all to easy to trip over a corpse or a limb or slip in mud and go from being the aggressor to the defender in one motion.
Varian spun Shalamayne in a circle around the orc's blade and disarmed him. Then, while the warrior was still trying to recover, Varian plunged Shalamayne into the orc's midsection and pinned him to the ground. He twisted Shalamayne, breaking the orc's spine. He pulled the sword free and shook it clean of blood. Only then did Varian look around and realize how far he'd gotten from the main body of his forces. He began to trek back toward his forces, carefully picking his way through bodies and blood-soaked ground. He glanced up to see the Black Prince Wrathion lift off the back of the golem dragon he'd been engaged with, something gripped within his hand. In the next two heartbeats, Wrathion had pulled the object free and the golem dragon turned to snap at him, only to disintegrate into dust.
Varian grinned. They were going to win this time. And this time, it would be over.
Then the black drake Tyrannia fell from the sky, her enemy chasing her down through the air as she fell.
Varian paused. Paused long enough for an elemental to come up behind him suddenly and strike him across the back. Varian turned his fall into a roll and came up in a guard position, back to his feet an instant later to face the new opponent. The elemental grinned at him, or perhaps it just looked that way, as it raised a giant fist to crush him with. Varian jumped back, shielding his face from the spray of dirt that erupted when the elemental slammed its fist down. Temporarily blinded, Varian didn't see the shaman rush in under the elemental's strike. He felt the bite of the mace easily enough, and felt the wind driven from his lungs as his ribs bent inward.
He flew to one side, using the momentum of the shaman's strike to push him out of the way of the elemental. His armor had still caved inward, and though he didn't feel anything was broken, it still hurt like a wicked bitch. Varian gasped for breath and struggled upright, kneeling on one knee and trying to use Shalamayne to pull himself upright. The shaman and the elemental advanced on him. Varian watched them come, trying to breathe, trying to stand. He couldn't. Exhaustion had won in those few moments, and Varian was forced to make the choice of holding his ground or fighting to retreat. It was easier to catch his breath, to wait. He watched them advance, step by slow step, and his thoughts inevitably turned to Anduin.
He hoped his son survived this fight. He hoped that Anduin would be as good a king to the people of Stormwind as Varian had been, had tried to be. No, Varian mused, a better king. He spared a glance to the sky where the dragons of flesh and stone fought, and knew just from that sight alone that the two black dragons weren't going to survive, no matter how hard they fought. He looked around at the battlefield, greeted by the faces of the dead, heralded by the cries of the living, cries that were silenced moments later, perhaps forever. It didn't faze him like it would have if he wasn't used to fighting, wasn't used to the blood and gore that came with war. All things died; some in peaceful ways, others in violent ways. Varian hadn't thought about what would happen after he died, only that Anduin would be king and hopefully have a better kingdom than the one Varian had made, had left behind.
But, somewhere in his gut, he had a feeling that Anduin wouldn't survive this fight either. It was a terrible thought for a father to think about his son, but unless some miracle happened, Varian wasn't sure anyone save Dark Horde would walk away from this fight. He thought about the girl Anduin had gone with - a pretty girl of mixed heritage - and briefly wondered what she and his boy had between each other. It didn't please him that much but then, he was a little old fashioned. He'd learned quite a bit in his tour of Pandaria, and most of the lessons had come directly from his son.
Varian pushed himself to his feet, sucking in a deep breath as his side twinges. The Dark Shaman and his elemental kept moving forward, and the shaman raised his mace in response to Varian pulling Shalamayne into a ready position.
The elemental surged forward and raised its huge fists to crush the human before it. Varian held his ground until the last possible moment then leaped out of the way, using the resulting cloud of dirt and debris to cover his movement. With the speed of a wolf, Goldrinn's champion closed with the Dark Shaman, surprising the Orc by surging in from the left and making a calculated strike toward the orc's knees. The Orc, as Varian had expected, made to leap over the sword to bring his mace down on Varian's skull. With a deft movement, Varian hauled Shalamayne out of its original course and brought it up toward the shaman's middle. Shalamayne bit into the shaman's side, but the cut was shallow. The orc's earth shield had prevented the blow from being fatal. However, the shield also allowed Varian the time he needed to slip out from the reach of the mace, and to launch another attack from the orc's right, trying to wear the shield down.
The elemental surged up out of the ground beneath Varian's feet, flinging the king high in the air. Varian twisted to land on his feet. His heels hit blood - or mud, it was all the same, really - and his world upended violently. The back of his head hit the ground hard, and stars burst before his eyes. He faintly heard the coarse laughter of the shaman and fought against the haze of pain engulfing him. His fingers reflexively closed around Shalamayne's hilt, but he realized the sword was no longer in his grip. He glanced around, and saw that his blade was sticking upright in the mud nearby, having dropped from his grip when his head had hit the ground. He wondered at the implications of his sword being in such a position - his head must've hit the ground harder than he'd first thought.
Still dazed, Varian watched the shaman hurry forward, a look of pure glee on his face. It was as if time had slowed down, allowing Varian to see a high definition version of the events taking place over the course of the next few seconds that crawled by. He saw the Dark Shaman standing before him. Saw him raising the mace in order to bring it down on the king's head. Saw the elemental looming behind the shaman, ready to kill Varian if the human managed to get out of the way of the mace. Varian felt his body move, but it felt sluggish, like he was a puppet whose strings had been cut.
The mace came down.
Varian tried to move, apologizing to Anduin at the same time.
An arrow sprouted from the Dark Shaman's chest. He looked down at it, as if confused at its appearance. The Dark Shaman blinked, looked down at Varian as if the arrow was somehow his fault, then brought his arms up again for another strike. An arrow took him in the throat, another caught him in the shoulder, and Varian heard a third twang of a bowstring as the last arrow caught the Dark Shaman in the eye socket, spinning him away from Varian and into the dirt. The elemental looked shocked, then almost joyous as it began to disintegrate into the pieces of rock and earth that had made its body.
The hilt of Shalamayne filled Varian's vision. A three-fingered, blue-green hand was holding onto the end closest to the blade. Varian gripped the hilt and Vol'jin pulled him to his feet, releasing the blade when Varian was steady.
"I always wanted ta see de High King on his back," quipped Vol'jin, "but I want ta be de one ta put ya dere."
Varian snorted. "He got lucky. There's too much blood in the ground."
Vol'jin snorted. "Ya be..." He paused, then thought better of what he'd been about to say. "Dere be too much ta live for ta be dyin' now, mon. Stay awhile longer, eh?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"Depends. Ya be buyin' us a few rounds?" Vol'jin pivoted and nocked an arrow. In one smooth motion he'd brought his bow up and fired into the back of a Dark Horde warrior that was hounding a blood elf paladin as she tried to protect the night elf Druid, and the gnome Mage he was healing, behind her.
"You wouldn't like what we drink." Varian shot back as he drove Shalamayne into the chest of a foolish Dark Horde shaman who got too close.
"Nah, ya probably be right. What ya drink might be too weak for me ta get a good buzz goin'."
Varian snorted. "It's better than the swill you make."
"How ya know? Ya never had some good Darkspear spirits."
"I'd be wary of anything you call 'spirits'."
Vol'jin let out a deep laugh and said nothing more to Varian as they fought their way through the multitude of enemies filling the field before them.
Even as they fought it became even more clear that if they wanted to survive to live just one more day, they would have to retreat. The problem was that too many had died to make that a viable option. Too many would stay, and what kind of leaders would they be if they abandoned their people to die? The Warchief and the High King exchanged glances. They didn't say a word to one another; they didn't have to. Standing back to back, the two prepared to face the elementals of fire and earth that were bearing down on them at the behest of two Dark Shaman.
Above them, Tyrannia began to fall from the sky, locked with the golem dragon. Wrathion was a dark speck trying to chase after them, to do what he could to save Tyra. Varian and Vol'jin couldn't spare them another look, for the two elementals were upon them and swinging their fists down at the pair. Varian managed to dodge the fire elemental's first blow and parried the second, while Vol'jin sidestepped the earth elemental's attack and used his bow to deflect the second from ripping off his head. The two were trapped with nowhere to go, no where to move. It would only be a matter of time before one of the elementals got lucky.
Their luck ran out when Vol'jin's arrow glanced off one of the Dark Shaman's earth shields and in that moment, the fire elemental swung its hand and caught the cursing troll across the left side of his chest. Varian heard Vol'jin's bow break and saw the Warchief hit the ground, where he lay unmoving for several moments. His blue-green skin was charred, and in places, white bone showed through where all the layers of skin, fat, and muscle had been burned away. Varian tried to come to Vol'jin's defense, but the two elementals were now turning to him. With Vol'jin injured as he was - or maybe dead - the Dark Shamans had now turned their attention to Varian.
Varian raised Shalamayne, apologized silently to Tiffin because he was about to make their son an orphan, and prepared to fight his last fight.
Boom
The elementals suddenly froze, as if time around them had suddenly ceased functioning for them. Varian stood stunned, as did the two Dark Shaman who were starting to sweat with the effort of trying to force the elementals to obey them.
Boom
Varian felt the reverberations in his own body, as if there was thunder cracking directly over his head. He didn't dare take his eyes off the mysteriously frozen elementals or the Dark Shaman to look around, but he would've thought that his own forces would've warned him if they were going to start using artillery, though it would be a futile effort this late in the fight.
Boom
The elementals shivered, as if they were finally coming out of their stupor. Varian readied himself for an attack - then stared as the elementals whipped around and lashed out at their masters. The two Dark Shaman looked so scandalized it was almost hilarious, in a macabre sort of way. One wasn't lucky enough to run; she burned where she stood, the fire elemental she'd commanded up until a second ago letting out a primeval howl before it burst into a shower of sparks. The second managed to leap out of the way of the earth elemental's attack, but only just. That elemental surged forward with the fury inherent and dormant in the earth, and Varian watched the Dark Shaman go from being an Orc to a pulpy mass.
Boom
Boom
Boom
A deep roar sounded, echoing through the entire Alterac Valley. Those still fighting paused to stare around, wondering what was coming now, and whose side it was on. Varian looked to the sky and watched a huge shadow growing in the distance. The shadow didn't quite fill the sky, but the sound of the thunder was definitely coming from it, each time those two dark appendages pushed down, displacing air.
Dragon. Varian stared, watching the dragon come ever closer. He realized, as the dragon left the shadow and entered into the sunlight, that it was a black dragon, the size of an Aspect. He heard a shout from above and saw Wrathion and Tyrannia struggling to keep aloft. They had managed to free Tyra from the grip of the golem dragon, and were now struggling to keep it - and themselves - from crashing into the ground.
The huge dragon swept toward them, grass bending in its wake. Varian saw people - hardened warriors from all sides - get lifted slightly off their feet as the dragon passed over them. Varian couldn't tell if it was from the dragon's passing or a result of shamanic powers, but those that weren't Alliance or Horde didn't get up again once the dragon had passed. The black dragon tilted its wings and as it did, Varian watched more elementals freeze, then turn on the Dark Shamans who had been controlling them. The dragon reached out its front paws as it turned onto its back. Varian saw Wrathion and Tyra disappear into those paws, and then saw the golem dragon explode as the black dragon's tail smashed into it like a mace breaking open a watermelon.
A groan brought his attention back to Vol'jin. He quickly went to the Warchief's side and pulled him upright. Where the worst of the burns had been was shiny new skin, still tender and raw. "I guess your loa don't want you yet." Varian mused.
Vol'jin huffed out a short bark of laughter. "I still got stuff ta do." The Warchief replied. "I can't be dyin' yet."
Another roar made them both snap around. The Aspect - for Varian was sure this black dragon was the Athena Anduin had spoken of - was circling the battlefield. Each pass brought forced stillness to the elementals, or made them turn on the Dark Shamans controlling them, or made them burst entirely apart. The defenders were left untouched by these events, and on the last pass she made, Varian felt vitality flowing into him from the earth itself, a healing spell wrought through the power of one who could command the elements with only a plea - the Earth Warder.
Athena, one half of the Earth Warder, new Aspect of the Black Dragonflight, landed just behind Varian and Vol'jin, casting them in her shadow. Wrathion and Tyra, both in their human forms, jumped to the ground and crouched low as Athena let out a roar that began deep in her chest. The sound was deafening; even Varian and Vol'jin had to cover their ears from the noise. Her voice echoed through the mountains, and within it was power, old and ancient and young all at the same time. As her claws dug into the blood-soaked earth beneath her, the elementals began to disintegrate, vanishing into dust or air or flames quickly spent or droplets of water that puddled in blood.
The Dark Shaman still living shrank from the sight of her, and would've fled if they'd been given the chance. Athena wasn't feeling very generous, it seemed, as the Dark Horde suddenly found themselves in a mire of quicksand, slowly being sucked down until eventually they were swallowed up by the very earth they'd sought dominion over.
Athena snapped her jaws shut and shook herself. She turned a glittering ruby eye on the High King and the Warchief, and winked at them. A moment later, she was standing before them as a young woman in black armor, long black hair flowing down her back with some framing her face. She looked around the battlefield, her lips in a thin line. "I'm sorry. It took longer than we thought to get here."
"But you're here." Tyra almost seemed to beam at her sister. "And you're an Aspect."
"In name only, I guess." Athena looked at Vol'jin and Varian. "You fought well."
Vol'jin smirked. "I trust Go'el."
"So do many people, I've found." Athena replied. For a moment, her eyes gained a far-away look, then refocused on the two men before her. "I tried to make it here sooner, but Karidormi was adamant that we learned how to use these fancy little powers of ours to the fullest extent."
"Bronze dragons. Can't live with them, can't live without them." Wrathion mused. Varian stifled a smirk when Tyrannia glowered at him.
He turned at shouts of his name, as did Vol'jin, and they watched Jaina and Genn rush up to join them. Jaina looked relieved to see Varian in one piece, though she was a little more reserved as she eyed Vol'jin. Whatever she'd been about to say died in her throat as she looked at Athena. Varian quickly made introductions, then focused on Athena. "And Go'el? Where is he?"
Athena looked toward the forest just beyond the edge of the battlefield. "He's busy."
"Busy? My son is-"
"Yeah, yeah. Your son and his girlfriend are just fine."
"She's not his-"
Athena just looked at him. She didn't say anything, just looked at him. Varian let his expression speak for him. "I'm going to look for my son."
Again, her crimson eyes gained a far-away look to them. "Don't bother." She said, and she lifted her arm to point. "Here they come."
Varian and the others turned to watch a bronze dragon slowly descending from the sky. He assumed the bronze was Karidormi, the female dragon who'd begun this fight by herself. On her back was Go'el, Aggra, Anduin, and Shalya. From a distance, Anduin looked whole and healthy, but when Kari landed and the Prince dropped to the ground, the king saw bloodstains on his son's clothes. There were rips and holes in the garments as well, giving Varian a good idea just how badly his boy had been injured. Beside him dropped Shalya, whose clothes looked just as terrible as Anduin's.
Go'el dropped to the ground and went to Vol'jin, gripping his friend's forearm with a look of relief. "I heard you were here."
"I still be in one piece." Vol'jin said. "I tol' ya - I don' wanna explain ta ya boy why his mama and papa ain't comin' back."
Aggra snorted. "So you come to fight a war?"
"If I dead, I don' have ta explain shit now do I?"
A small giggle escaped a few of those gathered around. Varian accepted Anduin's tentative hug and kept an arm firmly wrapped around his son'a shoulders. He didn't miss the way Athena and Go'el exchanged a look, and how both seemed terribly grim, despite the current happy moment taking place of being reunited and being alive. So, Varian jumped right into the murky pool and asked, "And what of the leader of this Dark Horde? Is he dead?"
Again Athena and Go'el exchanged a look. Athena turned to Varian and gave him a smile not meant for human faces. "Khargol won't be bothering anyone anymore."
Varian hesitated for a moment, then gave a nod. Before Anduin could say anything in protest, the High King turned to the Warchief. Varian held out his hand. Vol'jin eyed it for a long moment, then took it after Aggra punched him in the shoulder. Troll and human stared at each other, gripping each other's hands, then Vol'jin gave a sharp nod and released Varian. "I be seein' ya in Pandaria."
Varian nodded. "I'll be there."
The Warchief returned the nod, then looked at Aggra and Go'el. He didn't say a word; he didn't need to. The couple fell into step beside him as the Warchief went to join his remaining fighters, giving them instructions no doubt to collect the dead and wounded. Varian looked at Genn. The worgen's ears flicked forward and back in silent acknowledgement, then took hold of Jaina's arm and pulled her with him to join the Alliance survivors and help collect their dead and wounded. Varian looked at Athena. "And you?" He asked. "Where will you go?"
Athena smiled. "First, I'm going to collect my brothers. Then, we'll decide in a home. I doubt we'll return to the Blade's Edge Mountains, but I'm sure we can find an approximation somewhere here. Who knows? We might go bother other flights by reopening the Black Dragonshrine." She shrugged. "But if you need us, you can give a call."
Varian raised a brow. "You'll actually come?"
Athena gave him a toothy smile. "Maybe. Just make sure you aren't facing a crisis for the next couple of days."
"Oh?"
"I have a promise to keep."
Varian stood with his son, Shalya, and Wrathion, watching the forms of Tyrannia and Athena disappear in the distance. They were heading back to the Blasted Lands, to collect the other two members of the tiny flight, and hopefully put a stop to any fighting around the Dark Portal, if Kalec and those with him hadn't successfully ended the fight in their favor. Once the two black dragons were gone, Varian turned to Anduin. "What happened?"
Anduin looked at Shalya. The girl gave a shrug and made a motion with her hand, as if to tell him to hurry up. Anduin sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "So after we confronted Khargol, we were attacked by the latest golem dragon he'd been making. We managed to break its wings, so it couldn't fly away, and some other things happened." Varian didn't bother to ask for details about the 'other things'. Judging by the slight blush creeping into his boy's cheeks, he could figure out for himself what had probably happened. "So we managed to bring the golem dragon down, but we couldn't kill it. So-"
"So we decided to focus our attacks on its master." Shalya interjected smoothly. Her arms folded across her chest. "We managed to get in a few successful attacks, but not enough. It was hopeless. We considered retreating, perhaps regrouping, but we couldn't leave Khargol to his own devices. So we continued the attack."
"And then Go'el showed up." Anduin said. "And he was pissed. He healed us and then he just started laying into Khargol. It was rather exciting - if a little bit terrifying - to watch."
"And did Go'el kill Khargol?" Wrathion asked.
"I don't know." Answered Anduin.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Exactly that. All of a sudden, the earth just exploded around them and then Aggra was yelling at us to hurry up, and Kari was grabbing us, and we were running until Kari managed to transform and lift us all up off the ground, and then Go'el was just standing there in the clearing when everything settled. Khargol was gone."
Varian frowned, remembering Athena's words. Khargol won't be bothering anyone anymore. Karidormi made a soft sound. He glanced at her, then let a breath whistle out from between his teeth. There was a moment of pause, the dragon and man just looking at each other. When she nodded, he understood. "Well," said the king, "I suppose we should let everyone else know we're alive and we're heading home."
The three teenagers looked at him in askance. Varian smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We have a trial to attend."
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Dawn of the Dragon