roared as he launched into the air, his cry echoing over and over throughout the chain.
As Neltharion soared off, the other dragons followed. The time of reckoning was at hand. They had given of themselves to create the mightiest of weapons for use against the mightiest of foes, and if that proved not enough, they had claws, teeth, and more with which to still assail the demons.
And if all that would not prove enough…then surely nothing would.
Tyrande heard the cries, heard the horns. She knew immediately in her heart what they meant. Again the struggle had taken one of its mercurial shifts. The demons had struck back, and clearly hard.
With a blurted apology to the unfortunate whom she had been healing, the new head of the order leapt atop her night saber. Shandris, already astride, made quick room for her, and the two rode off to find the other sisters.
Most were already waiting for her. They included not only those who had originally been assigned to Tyrande, but many of the elder priestesses as well. All knelt or bowed their heads as she neared.
'Please! Stop that!' Tyrande begged, clearly uncomfortable. 'It's not necessary!'
'We await your orders,' Marinda respectfully said.
Tyrande had been dreading this moment. It was one thing to organize aid for the refugees and wounded soldiers, another to fling the entire sisterhood into the heat of battle.
'We must-' She stopped, silently prayed to the Mother Moon for guidance, and continued. 'We must divide up evenly and support those areas weakest along the front lines…but not all of us! I want…I want a third of us to keep to the back and do what can be done for any of the injured or wounded.'
Some of the sisters looked disturbed, clearly desiring to be up front alongside the fighters. Tyrande understood that, but also recognized that just because the battle was desperate, this was not the time to put aside the other skills the temple taught.
'We need healers among the soldiers. Any soldier able to come back to fight aids our cause. Consider this also: There must always be a Sisterhood of Elune. Should we all stand and fight-and perhaps die-who will be left to spread her word and her love among our people?' Tyrande tried not to think about the possibility that there would be no people to teach about Elune if the demons won here.
'We hear and obey,' one of the senior priestesses said. The rest nodded.
'Marinda, I leave those caring for the wounded in your hands.'
'Aye, mistress.'
Tyrande considered further. 'And if I should perish, I wish you to take over.'
The other night elf looked aghast. 'Tyrande-'
'The chain must be unbroken. I understand that. I hope you do, too.'
'I-' Marinda frowned. 'Yes, I do.' Her eyes briefly measured some of the other sisters. As Tyrande had done, she already considered who would be best to lead if she fell.
The new high priestess exhaled. Perhaps her decisions had been rash ones, but she could not be concerned about that now. They were needed. Elune was needed.
'That's all I have to say…except, may the serene light of the Mother Moon illuminate your paths.'
The ancient farewell said, Tyrande watched as many of the sisters left. Those who would follow her began mounting.
One of them glanced toward Tyrande. 'Mistress…what about her?'
'Her?' She blinked. Having grown so accustomed to Shandris riding with her, Tyrande had forgotten that the younger female could not possibly come with her now.
Likely knowing what was to come, Shandris tightened her grip. 'I'm going with you!'
'That is not possible.'
'I'm good with a bow! My father taught me well! I'm probably as good as any of these!'
In spite of the looming situation, her defiance caused many of the sisters to smile.
'That good?' one gently mocked.
Tyrande took Shandris's hand. 'No. You stay here.'
'But-'
'Dismount, Shandris.'
Her eyes tearing, the orphan climbed down. She stared up at Tyrande with huge, silver orbs that made the high priestess feel guilty.
'I'll be back soon, Shandris. You know where to wait.'
'Y-yes…mistress.'
'Come,' Tyrande ordered the others. If Elune had thrust her into this role, she had to accept it and do her best to live up to her calling. That included keeping as many of her sisters alive as the Mother Moon allowed.
Even if she had to sacrifice herself to do it.
Shandris watched them vanish. The orphan's face was tear-stained, and her hands were balled into fists. Her heart pounded in time to the beating of the war drums and the cries of the dying.
When she could stand it no longer, Shandris ran after the priestesses.
Nineteen
Although he had told Malfurion that Korialstrasz would arrive before long, Krasus insisted that he and the elf begin heading in the general direction of the battle. He did not do it because he felt that it would cut down the trek. Hardly that. The distance they covered could be flown by an aged, ill dragon in barely a few minutes. Healed by the druid's miraculous spell, Korialstrasz would take only one.
No, they walked because the dragon mage needed to walk in order to keep his impatience in check. He wanted so much to do something to hasten their journey, but he dared not create another portal to reach their destination, not after the last disaster. That left it to waiting for his younger self, but even with a fleet dragon coming to pluck them up, Krasus felt as if he had no more time remaining. Events were coming to a head, and he was out of options.
If Korialstrasz could get them to the struggle swiftly, then things could still be salvaged. If not-
'Master Krasus! I think I spy something behind us!'
Praying that it was not another of Neltharion's hunters, he peered back. A single huge shape moved determinedly toward them. There could be no mistaking that it had seen them.
Krasus suddenly felt a tingling in his head. He allowed himself a smile. 'It is Korialstrasz…'
'Praise be!'
The red leviathan's wings beat hard, each stroke seeming to eat away another mile. Korialstrasz grew rapidly, his expression finally visible. Krasus thought his younger self looked extremely relieved.
'There you are!' thundered the behemoth, landing a short distance behind them. 'Each second of flight felt like an hour even though I flew my fastest!'
'You are a welcome sight,' the mage told him.
Korialstrasz lowered his head and eyed Krasus most curiously, as if puzzled by something concerning him. 'Is it truly so?'
The way he asked made Krasus start. Korialstrasz knew exactly who and what the spellcaster actually was.
'Yes,' he replied to his other self, 'it is.'
'And you,' the dragon said, turning to Malfurion. 'I am forever in your debt, night elf.'
'There's no need for that.'
The behemoth snorted. 'So you say. You were not the one dying.'
Krasus's eyes narrowed. 'You were attacked, were you not?'
'Aye, two of the Earth Warder's own! They were filled with a horrid madness! I slew one, but the other caught me. He, too, is dead now, though.'
'It is as I feared.' The mage could say no more, the spell preventing him. Frustrated, he turned to a subject
