User:Peregrine2976/Fanfiction/The Fall of Azjol'Nerub/Part Seven

Part Seven From the moment Ajar’Zarak stepped off the mountain, he felt that there was something different here. No doubt due to the influence of the mysterious talisman he carried, he could sense that something powerful and ancient permeated the very air here. But try as he would, he could not force the Legacy Stone to reveal to him what it was that resided here. It seemed almost as though the Stone shied away from whatever power it was.

Moving cautiously, but much more confident than he would have been before seeing the Stone’s destructive power, he and his elites led the way through the uneven, snowy landscape. Many boulders and pitfalls dotted Icecrown Glacier, and they had to be careful of hidden pits and trenches in the snow.

For two hours they journeyed thus, always alert for Horrors. But for some reason, the glacier seemed deserted of them. Unnerved by this sudden disappearance of the monsters that had dogged the steps of the refugees from the first moment they set foot on the surface, he gripped the handle of his sword more tightly, and his other hand he moved closer to where the Legacy Stone hung around his neck.

Suddenly, a great shadow obscured the sky. The voices, previously dormant, almost immediately began to whisper very urgently, telling him to run, that he must leave, that he was doomed unless he ran.

He stayed. Looking up, he beheld a great flying form.

“Frost Wyrm!” cried Aran’Jakur, his hand going to his swordstaff.

“No.” Ajar’Zarak’s eyes widened. “Dragon.”

A Dragon! Beings of legend, said to be horrendous monsters incapable of thought, of mercy, wholly savage and barbaric beasts bent on nothing but wanton destruction and chaos. After his experience in Ulduar, however, Ajar’Zarak was not sure if anything he had been taught since his youngest days held any truth in it.

The Dragon was ice-blue, and its eyes glittered, not with malice, but with madness. The dragon dove towards the ground, its maw opened wide, and from it poured a blast of icy breath.

Barely raising the Legacy Stone in time, Ajar’Zarak defended himself from the freezing attack. As he did so, the Dragon lowered itself onto the ground. And then it spoke.

“Where is it, where is it, is it?” demanded the Dragon, manically repeating its words. “You carry it with you, with you, I can sense it, sense it!”

Ajar’Zarak recovered from his shock at being spoken to by a purely mythical being enough to answer back, “Where is what?”

“The Soul, the Soul, the Soul! The death of my Flight, the death of my flight, the doom of my children! I can sense it, sense it, it is here, here, here!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Ajar’Zarak, feeling absolutely confounded by this.

“But it is here, here!” The Dragon’s tail, which had been lashing back and forth, suddenly stopped. “No, no, it is not here, but you carry its brother, its brother!” The tail resumed lashing.

“Whose brother?”

“Not a who, foolish spiderling, a what, a what! The brother to the Demon Soul, the Demon Soul!”

Ajar’Zarak had absolutely no idea what this deranged dragon was talking about. But it seemed important to understand what this Demon Soul was, so he asked: “What is the Demon Soul?”

“The weapon, the weapon, the weapon of the traitor! He tricked us, tricked us, we poured our power into it, into it, all except him!” He Dragon’s eyes flared. “All except Neltharion! All except Deathwing!”

This tale rang familiar. “A traitorous black dragon?”

“Yes, yes, yes, the traitor, the traitor, the aspect of earth, of earth! Once my dearest friend, closest friend, he turned on us, turned on us, and killed my children, my mates, my flight!”

Speaking slowly and calmly to avoid aggravating the insane dragon, Ajar’Zarak asked, “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” The madness in the Dragon’s eyes fell back, and rationality entered. For the brief moment that he answered, Ajar’Zarak could see the noble being he had once been shining through. “Who am I? I am Malygos, young spiderling, the Hand of Magic, Aspect of the Blue Dragonflight!” And with that, the madness was back, and the brief moment of nobility was gone. “Aspect of the dead, leader of the fallen, the fallen!”

Hoping his suspicions were incorrect, Ajar’Zarak asked, “And who told this Deathwing to make the Demon Soul?”

“Who indeed, young spiderling, who indeed!” The next sentence was a roar. “The Old Gods, The Old Gods, seeking to escape, to escape!”

Ajar’Zarak’s stomach plummeted. So The Legacy Stone, the powerful talisman he carried, was just another key that could open the gate to freedom for the Ancient Ones.

He turned and looked behind him. His people were frightened, crouched on the ground, hoping against hope that this dragon was not going to destroy them all. Directly behind him, unheard, Anub’Arak had come up behind him.

Turning back to face the Dragon, holding the Legacy Stone aloft, Ajar’Zarak asked, “How do I destroy it?” Ignoring Anub’Arak’s gasp of incredulity, Ajar’Zarak kept his gaze steady on Malygos.

“Destroy it?” Malygos’ eyes were again empty of the madness, and the great creature he had been again shone through. “Destroy it? It cannot be destroyed, young spiderling. It is invulnerable, impregnable. And it is a danger to the world, because if it falls into the hands of the weak or the black-hearted, the Old Gods will take him, and he will use it to free them from their prison.” The madness began to creep back into his eyes. Malygos must have sensed it coming, for he spoke now with great urgency. “You must not allow it! You must not let it fall into the wrong hands! Keep it safe, young spiderling, keep it safe so that it can never do any harm to the world.”

“So I must never use it again?” asked Ajar’Zarak.

The madness was almost fully in control of Malygos by now. Yet with a titanic effort that Ajar’Zarak could perceive by reason of the Stone, the great dragon drove the madness inside him for a brief while longer. With fully rational eyes he carefully considered Ajar’Zarak.

“I think you can use it, young spiderling. You are one of strong will, and I think the Old Gods would find it no easy task to corrupt you to doing their will.” Malygos began to convulse; the insanity was returning. “I will go now,” he gasped. “Flee this place quickly, lest the madness within me drive me to return and attack you.” With that, the Aspect leapt into the sky and began winging away quickly, still half-convulsing in the air.

There was a brief pause while Ajar’Zarak and the other nearby Nerubians watched the great aspect fly steadily away, their minds numb, not so much with shock, but because so much had been said and discovered so quickly.

Shaking himself mentally, Ajar’Zarak turned. “Move out!” he bellowed at not just his elites, but entire company of Nerubian refugees. “We leave now!”

And with that, he and his elites turned and began to run steadily north, the rest of the Nerubians following.

For a long time, however, Anub’Arak and his guards remained. Staring at the place where the Dragon had disappeared into the cloudy sky, the Emperor of Azjol’Nerub thought long and hard about all that had been learned, all that had been done.

He knew what he had to do. He did not like it, but it had to be done. Still, he relished the knowledge of what the rewards would be.

Smirking slightly, he followed in the wake of the other Nerubians, his guards following.

<<< Part VI --- Part VIII >>>