The lifts were not far, but there was no point in descending. The scouts that Baine had sent earlier had not returned, even though they should have reported long ago. That likely meant that they had been taken and were now part of the threat.
The bridge shook as more sleepwalkers surged forward.
“What do we do?” one of his warriors asked. Tauren were stoic of nature, but this struggle had them all staring worried and wideeyed…
which only served to better show the redness due to a lack of sleep.
Would that you could guide me in this, Father, Baine thought.
But elderly Cairne had been among the first of the sleepers and Baine could not help but think that had happened for a reason.
Most tauren could not imagine life without their venerable chieftain, especially Baine.
Snorting, Cairne’s son came to a decision. It only bought a little time, but there was no other true choice. He said a prayer for the innocents whom he was about to send to death.
“Cut the ropes!” Baine commanded.
“The ropes?” The other tauren looked dismayed.
“Cut them!” Baine repeated, raising his ax above the rope nearest to him.
At that moment, a voice touched his thoughts.
Baine Bloodhoof…I am the archdruid Malfurion Stormrage, friend to Hamuul Runetotem…I offer a chance of hope…for us
…
Baine thanked his ancestors, then, without care what the others might think, spoke to the voice. “Tell me…and hurry…”
A question that had long bothered Malfurion was also explained in his reaching out to the far recesses of Azeroth, the question of what was happening in Dalaran. His first glimpse of the realm of the magi startled him, for the entire kingdom of Dalaran was not where it should have been. Rather, it now floated in the sky.
Night elves in general did not hold magi and other arcane casters in the most favorable light, but Malfurion, who knew the magi better than many of his kind, had in the past dealt with them with cautious trust. Encouraged by this display of their incredible abilities, he sought to reach those within — especially Rhonin, whom he had known some ten thousand years past — only to discover that even Dalaran had fallen prey to the Nightmare.
In fact, Dalaran had particularly fallen to it. Malfurion’s first glances at the grand, magically illuminated streets of the flying city revealed nothing but emptiness shrouded in mist. As he entered the various oddly shaped structures, he came upon the first of the sleepers. They lay there by the scores, some in their beds, others where exhaustion had taken them.
And in one of those beds he found not only Rhonin, but the archmage’s mate, the high elf Vereesa. Though Malfurion had not met her, he knew of her through Rhonin’s words. They had been caught in their slumber. Their faces even now revealed that their sleep was, like those of all the other victims, caught up in the horrors of the Nightmare.
There were no sleepwalkers, though Malfurion sensed that many of the victims were at the edge of doing so. But some spell held them where they were…and finally he found its source in the
Violet Citadel.
The mighty structure rose above all else. Its basic form was a huge tower with cone-shaped additions flanking its lower sides. Far above the rest of the city, the sharply pointed tip was surrounded by a circular array kept in place by powerful magic spells.
Ignoring this and the countless purple-tipped spires below, Malfurion touched those within. One name came to mind immediately, an elder female mage by the name of Modera. The image of a strong-willed figure with short, gray hair and a faint, perpetual frown came to Malfurion. She was clad not in the elaborate blue and violet robes that marked the ruling committee, the Kirin Tor, but rather gray and blue armor.
The archdruid… she responded back with much exhaustion.
So, not all of Azeroth is fallen…
His admiration for her immediate identification of him was tempered by her second statement. The magi in the chamber were utterly cut off from the outside world.
It is all that enables us to keep our brethren from rising again
…we barely caught it in time…we lost several of those left in our band when the first sleepwalkers appeared…
She had answered his question before he could ask it. Those magi left in Dalaran could not join his plan. They were doing all they could to contain the greatest of their kind from joining the Nightmare’s army of darkness.
Malfurion let Modera know as much as he had Varian. Modera nodded, though she did not appear overly confident in him. You’ve spoken to other magi beyond Dalaran?
I have.
She nodded. Modera was clearly very exhausted, as were the few dozen spellcasters with her or in other parts of the citadel.
May they be of some assistance…and may good fortune guide your efforts…I fear what you plan is our last chance…
Malfurion broke contact with her. He hoped that he had not betrayed himself. Modera might have wondered at his hubris if she had known what he truly intended for her fellow magi and all the others he was gathering…
And as Malfurion spoke to Varian, spoke to Baine, spoke to Modera, he also spoke to scores of others. He spoke to the orc shaman Zor Lonetree in Orgrimmar, to King Magni’s counselor in Ironforge, to the troll scout Rokhan — now forced to lead a band of his people trapped outside the orc capital to safety — and many, many more. Like the trolls, several were of races with enmity toward Malfurion’s race, but he sought to convince them nonetheless. With some he succeeded; with others he did not.
He could not blame any who rejected his offer of aid. He asked them to leave themselves defenseless before the Nightmare.
And among those who accepted, Malfurion still sensed wariness and concern…until they found what many thought their spirits but what were in truth their dreamforms materializing in a place most could not even imagine.
The Emerald Dream.
What is this place? Varian asked for all of them.
Also in dreamform, Malfurion explained, This is the place where dreams and the waking meet…once a place of gentle communion, but now all but overrun by the Nightmare…
Then…what point is there in bringing us here? At least we should fall in our own lands? Many agreed.
Because only here can you make the difference…only here will your weapons find use…
That was the encouragement they needed. Yet, even then, many began to divide up by race and treaty. That would not do. Malfurion needed them as one, not many.
Varian will lead you… he stated flatly.
But the king looked outraged at the sight of the orcs. I won’t lead this filth! Let the Nightmare take them and be damned —
As it took your son and so many others in Stormwind City?
Only by defeating the Nightmare can you ever hope to have Anduin returned to you…and that can only happen if we all work together…
I — Varian visibly struggled between his hatred and his love.
Love won out. Very well…let it happen…
Now, though, many of the Horde looked reluctant to join any force led by Varian. But then the tauren leader Baine took up a place by the human. I will trust that this one chosen by a friend of my people will act with honor toward all…
The tauren’s declaration shattered resistance. Malfurion gave thanks, then concentrated. He found those that had been from the start seeking to stem the Nightmare. Their numbers were fewer yet, which raised his concern. He reached out and touched the spirit of Zaetar.