The Dragon Soul

[moonshadows]

“Alright,” Lord Ravencrest conceded, stroking his beard unhappily. “Azshara’s favored lackeys, led by that disgusting Xavius, are drawing demons into our world through whatever they’re doing to the Well and the thing that leads them wants to come through.” He looked around the table at our small, pitiful group: myself, Father, and a handful of the Elite Circle who were just as horrified and clever enough to hide it. “How do we stop them?”

“You don’t,” said a new voice, rich and throaty and sweet as honey. When I turned with the others to look, she met my eyes briefly before tossing a palm-sized disk of gold to the table. “Not without this.”

“Who are you?” Father demanded, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

She was stunning, no doubt about that. She was stunning, and she knew it. Her skin was a warm bronze, her hair dark amber that fell in waves to her hips, and those hips in turn were the centerpiece of a body that was thick and curvy – if not quite elven. Dragon, I thought, spotting small curved horns in that lustrous mass of hair, and her eyes were nearly the same color mine were.

“Temporion,” she said reluctantly. “A dragon of the Bronze Dragonflight, permitted to return to this time and aid you. Not as much as you or I would like, but as much as has been allowed.”

I said what we were all thinking. “Why?”

“Because of all my clutch, only I survived. Because of all the dragons, only I could retrieve that – the Dragon Soul.”

Lady Crysania reached out to touch it but drew her hand back. “What is it?”

“The power of every living dragon,” Temporion said tightly. “Whoever holds it can, if they are strong enough, control every dragon in this time save me.”

“And why is that?” asked Father, hand still on his hilt.

She grinned. “Because in this time, I am still an egg. There are tasks I must accomplish, and little time in which to perform them, but the most important has been done: I have stolen the Dragon Soul from its creator and delivered it to you.” Again, her eyes met mine.

“Why?” I asked again.

“You need it,” she said simply. “You will not be permitted to keep it, but only the combined might of the five Dragonflights could stop the Burning Legion. They will come, and soon, to aid in the battle that will engulf the world.” She hesitated, gnawing briefly at her lower lip. “Once the Dragon Soul has been used, I must see that it is returned to its proper place. It is a power that should not remain long in the world. Terrible things will befall your people, and I wish that I could stop them, but I cannot.” A third time, her eyes met mine. “I will see you again, I swear it.”

And in a burst of golden light, she was gone.

“I’m no mage,” Lord Ravencrest said into the silence, hands up as if to disavow any connection to what had just happened. “Someone else can deal with that…thing.”

Again Lady Crysania reached out to touch it, but her finger hovered over the surface without making contact before she drew it back. “Not I. The power…it pulls at me from here. I want no part of it.”

One by one, the other magisters and magistrixes reached for it, but reconsidered until only Father and I were left.

“I think it should be Solaria.” Lord Ravencrest stared into Father’s eyes. “You know why.”

“I do,” he replied heavily. “You know it, too,” he said to me. “Don’t you?”

I did.

“Impossible,” Lord Farsul protested. “She’s far too young.”

“Look at her eyes,” Father snapped as I reached slowly for that shining disk. “She was born for this.”

Lord Farsul looked disdainful. “I admit, she’s remarkably talented for her age, but her eyes mean nothing. Even if the forest god did return her to health, that doesn’t mean-”

My finger touched the smooth, cold surface, and the room was whipped away in a shrieking gale of power, a vortex of many colors that tore at my mind with a hundred thousand claws and shredded my second skin from me. In desperation, I grabbed one of those lashing ribbons of power and spun it into an illusion, tied it to a representation of the dragon it represented. “Lifebinder,” I breathed as the image formed, no larger than a nightsaber kitten but perfectly formed. I grabbed the green one, knowledge flowing through me as I set it to the task of displaying Ysera’s form. Icy Malygos followed, and Nozdormu, scales glittering like golden sand. With their powers not contributing to the sensory onslaught, I seized another thread, and another, and another, commanding each one to occupy itself with the illusion of the entity from which it had come. The room filled with tiny illusionary dragons, red and black and bronze and blue and green, until the only power unoccupied was something dark and greasy, something that whispered mad promises. When I set to that power the same task as all the others, the shape –shapes? – blurred and bubbled, something horrific that no words could describe. For a long moment there was silence as that chilling truth sank in to us: that this weapon was never meant for the good of the world. It was a poisoned fruit, meant to tempt and weaken so that the owner of that dark power could harvest whatever it desired. Then another horrifying thought filtered through the sensory overload and sat on my chest, thick and heavy and cold like a pool of clotting blood.

“Where’s the Earthwarder?” I moved my other hand absently, sorting the tiny dragons into their Flights, until only the Blacks were spread out – but the solid, noble shape I was searching for, the one whispered to me by the powers of his consorts, wasn’t there. I knew, then, who had created this weapon. “He’s going to betray them,” I whispered.

“Who, lad?”

“The Aspect of Earth. The Earthwarder. Neltharion.”

Only then did it hit me – I knew the names of all the dragons, knew them by their power. Temporion was not a female Bronze, not with a suffix like that. Absently, I twirled a finger and sent Soridormi’s image rotating lazily. This was Temporion’s mother, but her – his – father…

No wonder he’d been able to steal the Dragon Soul from its creator.

“Come back to us, lad,” Lord Ravencrest said gently.

As though a spell had broken, I gasped and jerked my finger from the deceptive surface of the Dragon Soul. The clouds of miniature dragons popped like soap bubbles, and I was aware that I was Illidan, sweating and shaking as though I’d run all evening without a meal in my belly.

“Some explanation, if you please, Dath’Remar?”

“Don’t be silly, Farsul” Lady Crysania snapped. “It’s perfectly obvious and, quite frankly, brilliant. Your son was born with golden eyes. You feared Azshara’s wrath and hid him, telling us all he was a sickly girl until such time as he could maintain a complex illusion, and then you concocted that fable about the forest god to explain his eyes and his miraculous return to health. And now, just when we need one the most, we have a secret weapon and a child chosen by destiny to be the hand that wields it.”

“You’re exactly right,” Father said calmly. “I confided only in Lord Ravencrest, for advice.”

Lady Crysania looked pleased with herself. “So what’s the boy’s real name?”

“Illidan,” I offered, still shaken from my brush with all that power.

“Can you do it, Illidan?” she asked solemnly. “Can you use that thing to save us?”

“It has more than enough power for whatever I want to do with it-”

You could be a king, the disk whispered, and I shuddered.

I don’t want to be a king. I don’t want wealth beyond measure or the power to move mountains. I don’t want to be worshipped, and I don’t want men and women to throw themselves at me.

The disk snarled silently, the dark power that stirred inside it withdrawing to sulk at its failure to tempt me. Quickly, I scooped it into a pouch. “Temporion was right, this is a power that should not be out in the world. I…I need to see the spell. I can’t figure out how to stop it until know exactly what they’re doing.”

Grim nods all around met my words, everyone sobered by the enormity of what was happening…and what could happen if I failed.

Things got worse daily, but I couldn’t spare more than a moment to spend in futile wishes that I could help; everything was riding on me. There was no way to sneak me into the palace to examine the spell from there; too many demons, too many wards. Instead, I wrapped myself in the most resilient invisibility spells the Elite Circle could construct, spells that muffled all sound, even scent, and slipped down to the windless shores of the Well of Eternity to study it there. Once I got close enough, of course, I was forced to skulk around in the bushes and warped trees. The energy of the Well was itself a vortex powerful enough to shred all but the strongest spells in its vicinity, and I guessed that for every two magisters or magistrixes maintaining the spell that allowed the demons to pour into the palace, another one was required just to keep it from being torn apart.

Each day – because this had to be done in secret – I spent hours and hours studying the monster that twisted and writhed invisibly, taking notes to bring back with me and then spending hours more poring through Father’s books. Each evening Mother looked at me with dying hope, and I had to shake my head and swallow bile before going to study more, or lie in my bed and wish I could sleep. Farthi took to bringing me simple foods, porridge and bread and cool water, the lines on his face caused by worry for me more than the stark terror that hounded everyone else, and his eyes were all the mirror I needed to see how badly this was affecting me.

I didn’t tell him about all the times the fate of the world weighed so heavily on me, sour in my stomach, that I had to vomit bile to find some measure of temporary relief. Outside the city, the dragons had rallied to the cry of the resistance the lowborn were putting up. Battles waged constantly, uncounted deaths piled up, and there would be no end to it – until I found a solution. Time, it seemed, was flowing too fast. How I wished I could reverse it!

…reverse it.

I leaped from my bed, stumbling on the rugs as I dashed for my notes, nearly tearing the sheets of parchment in my haste as I searched them, one after another. Yes, there it was! The demons weren’t pouring, they were being pulled. There had to be some kind of attunement, a magical hook sunk into each demon to speed its progress. If the polarity were switched…ah, but how long did the hook last? Did the attunement fade over time, over distance, or not at all? Too much I didn’t know…but enough that I did.

I could do it. I could end the war, save the world. The killing would stop.

Except…

Queen Azshara would be furious. Why she was permitting this, no one knew, but to cross her on this level was madness. Then again, what was already going on was madness. And there was another matter to consider, as well. The Well itself was hooked into this spell. What would happen when I reversed it? At best, the funnel would just invert and seal itself, but at worst…

…at the worst, the entire Well, and everything in a generous radius of its influence could be sucked in, channeled to wherever the demons were coming from. I lunged for the chamber pot and retched but nothing came out, not even bile. I was going to destroy the world saving it, and what’s worse, I was certain this was the best way. There was a chance that the Well wouldn’t completely implode, after all. Still, no sense in not planning for the worst.

Slowly, I put the chamber pot back and grimaced. With a solution in sight, I felt like I could see clearly after weeks of being in a fog – and I needed a bath. A bath, and fresh, clean clothes, and a solid lunch. Ideally, I also needed some warm, wet lips around my penis, but with everything going on the only ones I’d realistically be liable to get for that were my own. Well, it was better than nothing; just another aspect of my health that I’d been ignoring in favor of trying to find a way to save the world, and now needed to pay attention to. Groaning, I hauled myself to my feet and stumbled into the bathroom.

I don’t know that I was the first man to ever anchor micro-portal spells into a pair of bracelets, one of them mounted on a handle, but I’ll say this: there’s no better way to learn how to suck a cock than by sucking your own. This, of course, necessitated the development of a spell that would alter my flavor to something more appealing, but I considered that time well-spent as it led to a very gratifying number of girls eager to see if their friends were telling the truth. Once, it had stung that Tyrande only had eyes for Malfurion. Now I knew exactly how much I wasn’t missing. I timed it, once. Just to compare. I scryed on my twin and began sucking on myself when she started her work on him. After the first two minutes, though, I silenced the scry because the sounds she was making were turning me off. It was smooth, delicious sailing after that and several long, painful-looking minutes between my climax and his. This time, I conjured an image of Temporion and played myself to the sweet curves of his female form.

I wondered what he chose to look like as a male mortal, imagined it was his penis in my mouth while mine was inside his. That thought sent me over, and the spicy-sweet taste as I swallowed made my stomach growl. It didn’t take me long after that to finish washing, put my second skin on, and dress for dinner.

“You’ve found something,” Mother said, everything about her tense as I sat down and reached for a serving spoon.

I nodded, mouth full with half of the slice of bread I’d grabbed as I was serving myself. How long had it been since I’d eaten – and not thrown it back up soon after?

“How soon?” Father asked, equally tense.

It took me a second to swallow. “Two things. First, I’ll need to be inside a casting radius of the main spell.” There was no way I’d be able to maintain the tricky spellwork from a distance, and we couldn’t afford to mess up. The first attempt had to be perfect. “Second, I’ll need some kind of secure vessel in which we can store some of the Well’s waters.”

Horrified silence fell on the table, broken only by me stuffing my face.

“You’re going to destroy the Well,” my oldest brother half-accused.

I didn’t look up to see his expression. “I’m going to reverse the polarity of the acceleration matrix. It will suck in all the demons that are still connected and send them back where they came from.”

“But it might take the Well with it,” Father finished grimly.

“The Well, and in the worst-case scenario, the entirety of Zin-Azshari and the surrounding area. That’s why we need to secure some of the Well’s waters first.”

“People can be moved, a new city can be built, but the Well can only be replaced from a seed of its own substance. There are some blessed vials in the palace – are you feeling up to some infiltration, Sola?”

My stomach signaled that we were done. I set my spoon down and wiped my lips. “Let’s go.”

“Aloris, spread the word to evacuate. Eldarath should be far enough away in the worst-case scenario, and even in a best-case, I don’t think we want to stick around for our queen’s wrath. Martisia, Sandar, pack up the house and leave. I want you safe in Eldarath for whatever comes.”

“Yes, Father,” chorused my brothers.

I didn’t have time to feel anxiety as we split up, as Father and I headed for the palace. There was no room for the worry that I might never see them again; the worry about everything that could go wrong took up all my worry-space. Father led me deeper into the bowels of the palace, unhesitatingly winding his way down into a maze of basements. We moved quickly, silently, not trusting the empty halls. The Dragon Soul in my belt pouch whispered darkly to me, tempting, but I was in no mood to indulge it even so far as to remind it that I wasn’t interested in anything it could offer me. The secure storeroom had seven blessed vials, each one closed by a stopper fancifully shaped like Azshara, hands raised and hips cocked in a seductive pose. While Father tucked them into a carrying case, I stood by the door, invisible and silent. He was allowed to be here; I was not. When he strode purposefully out of the room, I fell into step behind him.

“You there?” he murmured.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed gently.

“I can get you pretty close to where Xavius’s minions do their casting. Let me know if it’s close enough.”

Unseen, unheard, I followed as he led the way down another corridor and up a spiraling staircase. As we passed a branching hall leading off from a landing, however, someone gave a wild yell and launched himself at Dath’Remar. He dodged, but the assailant had covered his head with a hood and without the distraction of green hair, his face was identical to mine.

“Illidan?” Father asked sharply, warily. I hadn’t been wearing a hood when we set out.

“You know my brother?” Surprise transmuted to accusatory rage. “What have you done with him?”

Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I dropped all spells. “Discretion, Furion. Does the word mean nothing to you?”

“They took Tyrande,” he replied, as if nothing else about this situation mattered. “You have to help me rescue her.”

“I don’t have time for this, Furion.”

“Then make time!”

With an angry gesture, I cast a circle of silence around us, to Father’s visible relief. “I. Don’t. Have. Time. I have more important things to do than rescuing your girlfriend.”

“She’s High Priestess of Elune.” Malfurion threw the statement out as a challenge, arms crossed.

“How did you even get in here?”

“The dragons-”

“There’s no time,” Father said suddenly. “Wards have been tripped. We have to leave.”

“But Tyrande!”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Father, can you get him out of here? Get the water, and keep it safe?”

“Illidan, and you sure…?”

The Demon Soul whispered smugly that it could lead me to Tyrande. “I’m sure.”

He wasn’t convinced. “What about…”

I closed my eyes, offering a brief but heartfelt prayer to Elune that this would work. “With dragons, I should be able to get close enough to the other end.”

Dath’Remar stared grimly into the distance, jaw clenched, then nodded once. “Be careful, my son. You can do this. Be safe, be victorious, and I will meet you in Eldarath.” Two steps, and he swept me into a tight embrace. “I am proud of you, my son. I love you.”

“Thank you, Father,” I whispered back, clinging for another breath before we both stepped away, emotions closed behind resolute expressions.

“You, boy-”

“My name is Malfurion!”

“That’s nice. Come with me. Take me to the dragons. Illidan will free your friend-”

“She’s the High Priestess!”

“-that’s nice. Now be silent, come with me, and take me to the dragons so that I can tell them what the plan for saving the world is!”

He dropped invisibility around himself and my estranged twin; I dropped it around myself and padded swiftly back down the stairs, following the smug whispers coming from my belt pouch.

Down the stairs. Down the hall. Turn left. Third door to the right. And there, standing in front of a heavy, plain door, was someone I knew. I slipped my second skin on and dropped the other spell.

“Vashj?”

“Solaria!” Although we weren’t close friends, she looked overjoyed to see me. “Don’t tell me they grabbed you to take a turn standing watch over this lowborn cunt, too?”

I grimaced. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Ah, ambiguity.

Vashj rolled her eyes. “Ugh. It’s been horrible around here since the Light of Lights brought in the demons. You’d think with all the Highborne that Xavius turned into satyrs and those huge cocks they have, some of them would be interested in sex, but nooooo.” Slyly, she grinned at me. “I don’t suppose you’d like to…relieve me…before you relieve me?”

In all honesty, I shouldn’t have – but with the war and the world potentially ending, who knew when I would get another chance? Besides, if I did satisfy her, she’d be less likely to mention my presence. My first skin wasn’t exactly secret in our circles, but it was an unspoken thing. The usual spells were on me in a flash, my second skin fell away, and I didn’t even need magic to make me hard as a rock. Vashj’s face lit up at the bulge between my legs and she hiked the skirt of her dress over her hips; I was wearing trousers, and it took just a moment for me to free my aching erection.

There was very little of subtlety in what we did, up against that door. I nuzzled her throat, balls-deep in her warm, wet paradise while she alternated running slender fingers up my ears and pulling my head up to kiss me fiercely, desperately. That I finished first didn’t make a difference; the spells kept me hard as I continued pounding away, and when she milked me with her climax, I came a second time, thumb working gently to pleasure her for as long as her nerves would transmit the sensation.

“Mmmm. Quick and dirty,” she purred, putting herself to rights as the wave receded. “I like that. Dare you to show the prude inside what you can do, Illidan. I’m sure Elune knows the little hussy needs to get laid.”

“I’d rather save it for you,” I replied with a smirk.

She laughed. “I won’t argue with that. Enjoy your time with her – she’s been gagged for everyone’s sanity.”

I tucked myself away and waited until Vashj was out of sight before inserting a redirect into the wards on the door and shoving it open. Tyrande looked like crap, suspended by her chained  and spread wrists while a bar kept her ankles equally wide. She had, indeed, been gagged and it looked like she’d been there for several days at least. I wondered if she’d been fed; a barrel and ladle in one corner hinted that she’d been given water, at least.

“Tyrande?”

She lifted her head weakly, unable to see through her matted and greasy hair.

“Don’t scream. I’m going to get you out of here.”

Of course, having said that, I did not reach for her gag. I unshackled her ankles first, and of course she cried out involuntarily. I gave her a bit to adjust while I looked for the mechanism to lower her wrists, then hit the switch. She cried out again as she collapsed, the gag turning what might have been a scream into quiet whimpering. I waited another minute to take it off.

“Illidan?” she choked.

“Come on. We have to get you out of here.”

She tried to stand, but couldn’t so much as push herself up. “I can’t walk.”

That’s fine; I hadn’t planned on walking her out anyway. “Hold on, then.”

Which dragons had brought Malfurion here? I gritted my teeth and reached into the Dragon Soul, scanned the area, and then spun a spell of teleportation to take us to the strongest signatures. Unsurprisingly, I found myself in the middle of two Aspects and a Consort – Alexstrasza, Ysera, and Soridormi – with Malfurion just a few feet away. I shoved Tyrande at him.

“There, I rescued your girlfriend.”

“She’s the High Priestess,” he snapped.

I snapped back, “I don’t care. You interrupted me in the middle of trying to end the demon threat once and for all!”

“The Bronze Dragonflight know what you plan, and it is as it should be,” Soridormi soothed. “We are here to assist. You know, of course, what will be required of you afterwards.”

“I give back what I’m borrowing.”

The giant bronze head bobbed. “Climb aboard, young Illidan. I will carry you to where you need to be.”

I scrambled onto her back, wedged myself between spines on the base of her neck. By the time I was settled, I noticed that Malfurion was similarly mounted on Ysera and that Tyrande was looking much better from Alexstrasza’s back. “Why are they…?”

“The winds above the Well are not kind,” Ysera answered dreamily. “With my aid, Malfurion can calm them.”

“But the demons will send their own forces to stop us,” the Lifebinder picked up. “Some of our Flights will assist in protecting us. Are you ready?”

“My father-”

“Has completed his errand,” interrupted Soridormi. “He will be waiting for you when you are done here. Are you ready?”

No. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”