CHAPTER ELEVEN
Antonidas, archmage and leader of the Kirin Tor, sat in his study examining a recently arrived scroll. The news was grave indeed: Admiral Proudmoore reported that a group of orcs had stolen several ships from Menethil Harbor. Worse, when he'd pursued them, Proudmoore's ships had been driven back … by dragons. Black dragons. Antonidas felt a vein throb in his temple and rubbed it. During the Second War the Horde had somehow enlisted the aid of the red dragons, and now that the portal had been restored it seemed they had allied with the black dragons as well. It was almost unbelievable. Two dragonflights? How could the Alliance hope to stand against that?
A soft tap came at his door. "Enter, Krasus," Antonidas called out, his magical skills already telling him who was calling at this late hour.
"You left word that you wished to see me?" the other mage asked as he entered and closed the door behind him, keeping his delicate features deliberately bland. Antonidas suspected it was to stop him from losing his temper, but if so it did not succeed.
"Yes, I left word," Antonidas replied, all but spitting the words through his long gray-streaked beard. "Months ago! Where have you been?"
"I had other business to attend to," Krasus answered evasively, perching himself on the edge of Antonidas's desk. Lamplight caught the hints of red and black lingering in his silver hair and turned the whole into fire and gleaming metal.
"Other business? You serve on the Kirin Tor, Krasus, a fact I should not have to remind you of!” Antonidas pointed out, frowning. "If you cannot make time for such duties, perhaps it would be best if another was appointed in your stead."
To his surprise, the slender mage bowed his head. "If that is truly what you wish, I will step down," Krasus stated quietly. "I would prefer to remain, however, and I promise you that Dalaran and the Kirin Tor currently have my utmost attention."
Antonidas studied him a moment, then finally nodded. He didn't really want to lose Krasus — the enigmatic mage had surprising stores of both power and knowledge. And despite the man's occasional evasiveness, Antonidas did feel his colleague had all their best interests at heart.
"Take a look at this," he said, thrusting the scroll into the other man's hands. He watched as Krasus read, shock and growing horror on his face.
"The black dragonflight!" Krasus whispered when he had finished, rerolling the scroll and placing it carefully on the desk as if the very words might attack. "My research leads me to believe the red dragons have no love of battle or bloodshed, and only served the Horde under duress. But the black! That pairing seems more logical and deliberate — and much more dangerous."
"I agree," Antonidas said. "Krasus, you are our resident expert on dragon lore. Do you think there is any way to stop them, or at least limit their effectiveness?"
"I—" A sharp keening cut through the still night air. The two wizards locked eyes for a moment. They knew what that sound meant — it was an alarm. Krasus stayed silent while Antonidas tried to identify it. Which of the old spells was it — was it that one, or…
"The Arcane Vault!" he said at last, eyes widening. "It's been breached!"
Krasus looked as frightened as he felt. The Arcane Vault stood near the heart of the Violet Citadel and was protected by the strongest magics the magi could devise. It held many of the city's most powerful artifacts, as well as some items the magi could not use themselves but could not risk allowing to fall into anyone else's hands.
Standing, Krasus held out his hand. Antonidas grasped it and without a word the two teleported to the Arcane Vault.
The world around them blurred, the book-lined walls of Antonidas's cozy study disappearing to be replaced in a blink with a large stone chamber. The floor and walls were roughly hewn from the earth itself, and the ceiling was vaulted. The room had no windows and only one door. Except for the space around that lone exit, the rest of the room was lined with shelves and boxes and bookcases, all of them full.
Standing amid the dust and the artifacts were several men. At least, Antonidas thought they were men. Then his senses detected the rippling black aura around each of them, and even before they turned, revealing glowing eyes gleaming in the shadows of hoods, he knew what manner of creatures had pierced their defenses. Knew, and quailed from that knowing.
Death knights.
Human corpses animated by dead orc warlocks, they reeked of dark power. Enough to make Antonidas blanch with horror; enough to pierce even the powerful wards that had been erected here. And so they had come to this highly protected place —
— for what?
This place housed artifacts galore — easily enough weapons for the death knights to win the war once and for all. Yet they did not move to take the priceless objects. They stood in a circle around a central figure, who bore something clutched in his hand. Antonidas concentrated on the item. It was extremely powerful, and the taste of its magic felt familiar. But it wasn't until the lead death knight shifted, raising the object he held slightly, and light reflected off its facets and cast violet rays around the room that Antonidas realized what single treasure would be great enough for the death knights to ignore everything else.
"He has the Eye of Dalaran!" Antonidas shouted, raising one hand to cast a mystic bolt while with the other he summoned the rest of the Kirin Tor. Only a handful could fit into the Arcane Vault, but at least he and Krasus would have reinforcements when they invariably fell victim to the crushing fatigue that often accompanied a wizardly duel.
This was no formal duel, however, Antonidas thought as his mystic bolt caught one of the death knights in the torso and slammed the creature into the far wall, smoke rising from the hole in his chest. One of the other death knights raised his truncheon, the jewels along it winking in the candlelight, and Antonidas felt as if something had gripped his heart in ice-cold hands and started to squeeze. He clutched at his chest with both hands, pressing hard to push away the pain that knifed through him. He managed to mutter a spell and a violet glow sprang up around him, dissipating the cold. He could see the attack spell through his mystic senses, looking like a colossal hand shaped from smoke, and slapped the thing away, sending it careening back into its master. The death knight went sprawling.
Another of the Kirin Tor teleported in beside him, an elven woman with long black hair. One slender, pale hand went to Antonidas's chest while the other gestured at the terrifying intruders. Antonidas was dimly aware of other figures materializing in the room. He gasped for breath as his lungs expanded and his heart beat once more, blessed warmth flowing through him even as he saw two death knights begin to writhe in pain. Flame suddenly licked at their limbs, torsos, and heads. Two other death knights suddenly stepped back. Antonidas's eyes widened in shock as he realized that they were attempting to escape. Distorted shadows cast by the flames of their dying brethren suddenly took on a life of their own, wrapping about the death knights and absorbing their flesh until they were nothing but wispy memories.
Although they would not survive — if such a term could be used — the beleaguered death knights would not go into death's final embrace alone. Still weak from the attack and his attempt to combat it, Antonidas could do nothing but watch helplessly as the two death knights turned, their bodies still blazing, and attacked the woman who had saved Antonidas. Sathera's pale face contorted, her head falling back and her black hair cascading around her like a shroud as air was forced from her lungs. Antonidas heard a crack as the increasing force collapsed her chest and crushed her bones.
"Sathera! No!"
Antonidas turned to see Prince Kael'thas, his handsome features contorted with rage at the death of his friend and colleague. The elf raised both hands and drew them apart. Across the room one of the death knights jerked and then shrieked as his body was literally torn limb from limb. The sight shocked Antonidas back to his senses.