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

Part IV “There’s no way we can break through that blockade, revered overseer.”

Anuk’Rakan, Ajar’Zarak’s best scout, had returned from his latest foray into the surrounding country. Upon returning, he had reported that the pass through the mountains, the pass which was only one of a few ways through the mountains, was held by a strong force of Horrors. Perhaps a thousand of the land bound monsters were there, as well as at least six Frost Wyrms.

He was right. There was no way they could break through that. The Legacy Stone was effective against the Frost Wyrms, but he had learned from hard experience that it was nowhere near as effective against other enemies.

“So where can we go? All the other passes are sure to be held by them in as much force.”

Anuk’Rakan hesitated. “There is one way… a small path, one that the Horrors don’t seem to know about. It leads up; over the mountains… we think it leads to the Storm Peaks.”

Ajar’Zarak paled. “The Storm Peaks? I would sooner fight that undead blockade than lead this band of refugees up there! If the raging storms and ancient magic doesn’t kill us, the Storm Giants will!”

“I’m afraid that’s our only option at this point, revered overseer. We may be able to move over the Peaks with stealth, but getting past this army of Horrors without fighting is nigh impossible.”

Ajar’Zarak sighed. It seemed lately that all the fates had been conspiring against him to always present him with only one option, and always the most difficult one.

He began to speak… it was the hardest thing he had done in a long time. Fighting was natural for him, but actively making a potentially suicidal decision went against his nature. “Very well… but I am not pleased about this.” He sighed. “Ready the elites and refugees. We leave within the hour.”

The path that Anuk’Rakan had spied proved to be treacherous, winding up the side of the mountain like a snake. The howling wind threw miniature blizzards at them every few minutes, and more than once a refugee was almost thrown off the edge by the gale.

The going was slow, but they worked their way up slowly and surely, until after many hours they reached a small plateau. Ordering his elites to set up camp there for the night, Ajar’Zarak walked to the refugees. It was heart-wrenching, to see his once-proud people reduced to this. Though their flight from Azjol’Nerub had been necessary, all of them still carried thoughts of their ancient home in their hearts. The libraries, temples, and universities of Azjol’Nerub called to every Nerubian at the core of their being, even the warriors and soldiers of the empire. He silently swore that he would do everything in his power to raise his people up to their former glory, even if they must create for themselves a new home in the harsh world above ground.

He slept fitfully that night. His dreams were filled with armies of undead and shadow figures that lurked just beyond his vision. Yet whenever he turned to see one of them, there was nothing there. Worst of all, though, were the three gargantuan entities that prevailed over all his nightmares. He could not make out any form at all, but he just knew that they were there, watching him. After a time, they faded, giving way to a dark figure encased in an icy coffin. Its eyes glowed blue, and he soon perceived that it was little more than a breastplate, helmet and sword, encased in the ice as though someone were wearing them. Even as he watched the sword seemed to begin to glow, at first a soft blue, eventually hardening into a piercing, icy glare. Then it flashed and the sword was gone.

His dreams shifted, and he saw a strange being, a creature with pale skin that walked on two legs. He recognized it. ‘Human’ it was called. A few of them had made settlements on the lower plains of Northrend. This human had fair hair that reached down his neck, and he had the face and bearing of arrogance. He carried a heavy hammer. Then the face began to change. The natural-seeming arrogance hardened into inhuman contempt, the fair hair turned snow-white, and the hammer changed into the sword he had seen disappear from the icy throne.

The scene changed again. Now he saw once again the icy coffin. It had been shattered. The human was nearby, picking up the helmet. It picked up the helmet and put it on. Its eyes flashed, and changed to pure blue. The human seated itself on the throne, and as it did so, lightning crackled and thunder rumbled in the sky. For the last time, his dreams changed. Now he saw a group of mighty heroes, some of whom he recognized as races that lived across the sea. They charged against the human, who fought back with great power. However, he was no match, and at last, as he fell, dropping his sword, Ajar’Zarak woke with a start.

“Revered overseer, your immediate presence is required.” It was Aran’Jakur.

Rising slowly to his feet, doing his best to quell the dreams that kept rising in his mind, he asked, “What for?”

“The… the emperor, revered overseer. He is dead.”

The emperor’s tent was no less crude than the commoners’, a fact that he had insisted upon, saying, “As my people suffer, so too shall I suffer.” Now, however, the floor of the tent was coated in black Nerubian blood, and the body of the emperor rested nearby, his six legs and two arms sprawled haphazardly across the floor. Various wounds punctured his body.

Ajar’Zarak was overcome half by grief and half by an overpowering rage when he saw the scene. Turning to a nearby guard, he demanded, “What did this?”

“We don’t know, overseer,” the guard said tremblingly. “One of us looked in on him, as we do every hour or so, and found him like this.”

“Were there no guards posted outside his tent?”

“No, overseer. He ordered that the guards would be better used either by safeguarding the camp or resting.”

Ajar’Zarak swore quite profusely. Though he respected his emperor for decisions and acts of kindness such as these, they were what had led to his death.

As Ajar’Zarak exited the tent, he saw Akun’Aran, the council member who had first announced that the Legacy Stone would be withheld from the Great One, hastening towards him. As he reached him, he panted, “Word just got out. Anub’Arak was appointed his successor just before he died. The coronation will take place at sunup.”

Sunrise came far too swiftly for Ajar’Zarak’s liking. It was his duty as overseer to be present at the proceedings, but he saw only more death in the future of an empire led by Anub’Arak. However, he pushed down his personal feelings. It was his duty to the empire to respect the emperor and his wishes. So he would, regardless of how he felt about the emperor as a person.

The crowd that gathered looked anxious, even frightened. An aisle was clear down the middle of them, a path through a mob of Nerubians that led straight to where Akun’Aran waited on a raised bier. Trumpets played a song that had overlaid in the notes themes of heroism, kindness, and bravery. As soon as the song began, Anub’Arak began his walk down the aisle to where Akun’Aran stood. As he reached the bier, the trumpets reached a brazen crescendo, and Anub’Arak knelt to receive the crown. As it was placed upon his head, Ajar’Zarak thought he saw a strange expression on Anub’Arak’s face, a kind of mixture of triumph and general contempt. However, as quickly as it had come, it was gone, replaced by an expression of suitable sadness at the death of the emperor and disbelief at the honour being bestowed upon him.

Surely Ajar’Zarak had just imagined it. Surely.

Remembering his part to play in the coronation, Ajar’Zarak raised the ceremonial sword and shield that he had belted on for this occasion. Smashing the sword against the shield, he cried in a great voice, “All hail the new emperor!”

As one, the elites echoed him, bashing their own swords against their shields. Then, as a single body, the rest of the Nerubians knelt, with a mighty cry of “All hail!”

“Thank you, kind countrymen,” began Anub’Arak, his words sounding polished and rehearsed. “To say I am honoured is the largest of understatements. Words cannot express my gratitude at receiving such an honoured position, though our circumstances are dire.”

“I ask you, not as the emperor, but as a fellow Nerubian… we have an arduous journey ahead of us. The Storm Peaks and beyond is our goal, but I would not lead you to such places without general consent of the people whom I serve! So I ask you, will you follow me, out of the darkness of despair, into the light of hope and freedom?”

He did not even need to ask. Nerubians could be whipped into frenzy by such a speech. Another few minutes and they would have followed him into the sea. As it were, many of them looked like they were ready to pack up and leave immediately in search of adventure when, as one, the Nerubians shouted, “Yes!”

“Then gather your things, Nerubians, for we leave nigh!”

The Nerubians cheered, and left to quickly repack the things that had been brought out for the night. Though not a supporter of Anub’Arak in the least, Ajar’Zarak had to admit that he made a stirring spokesman. Feeling hopeful and light-spirited in spite of himself, he made off to gather what few possessions he had brought with him and to prepare himself for the journey ahead.

<<< Part III --- Part V >>>