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

Part II “Man your stations, Nerubians!” hissed Ajar’Zarak. “They come again!”

Ajar’Zarak felt twin surges of pride and sadness as he watched his elites bravely charge back into the tunnels that housed the monstrosities that were called the Faceless Ones. Chances were, every one of them, including him, would die this day… but, by the gods, they would die in battle, with their heads held high and their weapons in their hands.

Together, he and his elites raced through the tunnels, their eyes alert and focused for any of the demons. Three days of fighting, three days of killing, three days of dying… all for one single object. All for the Legacy Stone.

He heard a warning hiss to his left. Turning, he saw a band of the demonic Faceless Ones charging the flank. Turning, he and three of his elites drew their weapons. Aran’Jakur, his second, wielded his weapon of choice, a staff with twin sword blades at either end. The other two elites drew the standard elite katana and shield. Ajar’Zarak himself whipped out his twin katana blades.

The demons were upon them by this point. Dodging to the side to avoid a downward slice, he nimbly lunged forward with both swords and skewered the Faceless One with them. The demon gave what Ajar’Zarak assumed was an approximation of a cry of pain.

Glancing around, he saw that his small group had made quick work of the rest of the demons. Aran’Jakur was pulling his swordstaff out of a dead foe, and bodies littered the ground, all of them Faceless Ones’.

“All dead?” inquired Ajar’Zarak crisply.

“Yes, revered overseer,” replied Aran’Jakur.

“Good. Fall back and regroup inside the city. We’re too exposed in these tunnels.”

“Yes, overseer.”

As he and his small squad of elites hurried back to the city, he let his thoughts wander back to how this had all begun… the meeting in the council chamber… the disturbing dream of the prophet… the dangerous decision of the high council… and the events that had followed…

He had raced back towards the barracks, to ready his elites. They had barely had time to don their armor and weapons, however, before a sonorous booming sound had echoed throughout the city. Again and again it had sounded, until all at once the seemingly solid rock walls that bordered the city’s eastern edge had quite literally exploded outward… and out had come pouring hordes upon hordes of Faceless Ones, the demonic harbingers of the fury of the Great One. Since then, he and his elites had bravely stood and fought the terrors for three days, keeping them from making any serious incursions into the inner city but all the while being slowly pushed back.

The bold elites, who had once numbered in the hundreds, were now reduced to just fewer than thirty in number. The ordinary Nerubian guards helped, but their skill was no match for the terror sowed by the Faceless Ones. Only his specially-trained elites had proved to be a match for them.

And now it has come to this, he thought to himself. Here we will die, defending an artifact that we do not understand, but our leaders assure us is absolutely essential to our survival. How ironic that they would die trying to preserve their livelihood.

As they reached the walls of the inner sanctum, a messenger ran up to Ajar’Zarak.

“Revered overseer,” he said breathlessly, “the high council requires your immediate presence!”

Intrigued but annoyed to be pulled back from battle when his warriors were giving their lives, he followed the messenger to the council chambers. As he entered he noticed that the two guards were gone. Ordered, presumably, to the battlefield. Before he went in, he asked whatever powers there were that guided his race that this interruption would be worth it.

It was.

There, on the center podium stood an object. He could not make out its form, but it emitted a bright, golden glow that permeated the entire the chamber. Due to the light, the council seats were no longer cloaked in shadow, but basked in glorious golden light. He knew what this strange, floating object must be.

The Legacy Stone.

“Ajar’Zarak… so good of you to come.”

It was Anub’Arak again. Ajar’Zarak paused – there was something different in Anub’Arak’s voice. Nothing distinctive, only a slight catch, but as a soldier, Ajar’Zarak was trained to pick up small details such as these.

No matter. Surely Anub’Arak was just as frightened as the rest of the populace of Azjol-Nerub.

“Why have you summoned me here? My warriors are battling the hordes of demons on the front, and I cannot stay back in musty rooms and talk!”

“We have summoned you here, overseer, because very soon there will be no front. We have ordered a retreat.”

Anub’Arak put extra pressure on the word we. It seemed that he still resented the council’s decision to defy the Great One. Of course, the city and, for all he knew, his entire race was doomed, so resentment was to be expected.

“A… retreat? Where? The Inner Sanctum is our final stronghold!”

“No… there is another place… A might fortress, built in the days of our grandfathers’ grandfathers… Iceclaw Peak.”

Shocked, Ajar’Zarak stood there, unable to speak.

“All other exits out of the Inner Kingdom have been sealed. After we seal the last exit, the Faceless Ones will be unable to leave.”

“But… Iceclaw Peak? On… on the surface? But there are worse things above, the Horrors! The living dead! And our tunnels don’t even go straight to the fortress… we will have to journey, exposed, without any protection other than the guards and elites, for at least a day!”

“And if we remain here we accept our inevitable death,” snapped Anub’Arak.

Seeing his point, Ajar’Zarak bowed his head. He remained convinced that going above would doom them all, but now that he thought about, remaining in the demon-infested caverns would spell out certain doom as well.

“Very well… I shall prepare the elites for our immediate departure.”

“Good… then there is one last thing to discuss. The Prophet alone can wield the Legacy Stone, and so he requires additional protection.” The Prophet stepped out from behind a massive stone pillar. “You will guard him with your life once we have reached the surface.”

Bowing despite his frustration, Ajar’Zarak turned and left the council chambers.

Twenty minutes later, he inspected the assembly of elites, guards, and refugees. It was a bedraggled and exhausted group of Nerubians that he saw. They were all tired, but this was no time to back out.

“We are ready to move, revered Anub’Arak,” Ajar’Zarak informed the council member.

“Good.”

And with that, the last remnants of the Nerubian empire set off through the tunnels of their ancient home, to seal it off from the outside world, and them, forever… and to find a new home in the possibly more dangerous world above. <<< Part I --- Part III >>>