moonshadows

“THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOU TO DO WHAT YOU WERE BORN TO DO!”

Azureon blinked at the enormous, slightly-translucent bronze dragon. “But I already did that, didn’t I?” He blinked again. He was no longer where he had been. “…didn’t…I…?” A glance around showed no Aspect of Time, but there was a very intimidated-looking orc with a big axe nearby, looking at him and ready to attack, although it looked like he’d rather run away. “Awwwwwww, there goes any chance of getting a straight answer. I hate when they do that. Who are you?”

The orc, for his part, seemed startled to be addressed by a blue dragon. “Broxigar.” He paused and drew himself up straighter. “…the Red.”

Azureon peered closer. “But you’re green.”

“I wasn’t always green.”

“Oh, so you used to be Broxigar the Red, and now you’re Broxigar the Green?”

The orc scowled, fear fading under annoyance. “No. I was brown. And I am Broxigar the Red.”

The dragon sat on his haunches, tail curled around his body twice and flicking at the tip like an amused cat. “But how can you call yourself ‘the Red’ when you never were red?”

“Rrrrgh! I am called ‘the Red’ for the blood I spill in battle!”

“Oh, well that makes a bit of sense. But maybe it should be ‘Broxigar the Sometimes-Red’ or ‘Broxigar the Red-After-Battle’.”

Broxigar scowled again. “That would be too awkward to make a good battle cry.”

“I guess you’re right. So, do you have any idea where we are?”

The orc blinked and looked around at the lush forest. “…no.”

When he looked back, the dragon had turned into a night elf woman with deep blue hair and faintly blueish purple skin. “Pity, that. Neither do I, and I’ve been all over the world. Heeeeey, I bet I know! The Timeless One sent us back in time to before the Sundering, and we’re someplace that doesn’t exist anymore in the present day!” The elation suddenly drained from his – her? – face. “Oh. Wait. This isn’t going to be fun.”

Despite himself, Brox asked, “Why not?”

The dragon looked at him like a child told he was too young to go on the hunt. “Because before the Great Sundering, the Burning Legion came.”

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“Where are we going?” Brox growled.

“Beats me.”

The orc stopped dead. “I’ve been following you along game trails for two hours and you don’t know where we’re going?”

The Blue stopped as well, unconcerned. “Well, neither of us has ever been here because ‘here’ doesn’t exist in the present, so how could I know where we’re going?”

Brox opted to not argue that point. “Why are we going the direction we’re going as instead of going in any other direction?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Azureon said brightly. “We’re heading towards the Well of Eternity. We should run into signs of Kal’dorei civilization any time now, I think.”

“I didn’t know they had any,” the orc said, surprised. “I thought they just lived in the forest.”

The dragon shrugged. “They don’t any more, really. The Burning Legion destroyed it. Oh, when we meet some night elves, you may want to let me do the talking unless you’re fluent; they were kind of stuck up back then. Now. Whatever.”

The orc’s hands tightened unhappily around the handle of his axe. ”Night elves hate orcs,” he said shortly. “The Warchief only got their High Priestess to work with us because they hate the Legion more than they hate us.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the dragon said in cheerful orcish as six heavily-armored elves on nightsabers stepped out of the woods. “They think you’re a tauren.”

“Magic,” Brox grunted, noting that his head felt funny and he couldn’t feel his toes. He opted not to look at his hands. “But I’m not a tauren, and I don’t speak taurhe.”

“Neither do any of them. Anyway, none of them are likely to survive the next ten years, much less the next ten thousand, so no one will really be around to know that you’re an orc by the time orcs are around.” She turned to the grim-faced elves and a torrent of reasonable-sounding but sometimes imperious kaldorei poured forth. One of the guards said something, but Azureon refuted it, and he gave in. “We’re clear to go,” she said in orcish, turning back to Brox. “We’ll hit a road shortly and reach the city of Suramar around dusk.”

The elves melted back into the forest; the disguised pair resumed walking.

“What did you tell them?” the orc asked once they had emerged from the forest onto the smoother surface of a road.

“Oh, that I’m a mage of no small skill who’s been in seclusion far to the south studying dragons, and you’re a tauren brave from a local tribe who had a vision of demons pouring out of a portal and the world splitting in two. You’ve been sent by your elders to seek out your vision, and I’m going with you because I detected some irregularities in the ley-lines.”

Broxigar thought about that, sorting out all the questions he wanted to ask and trying to guess which would get him answers, and which would get him more confused. “So what are we going to do in Suramar?” he asked finally.

Azureon shrugged. “Whatever seems right, I guess. The Timeless One didn’t exactly give us any hints, so we have to assume that whatever we do is right because otherwise the time loop would have collapsed on itself, spitting us back out at our point of entry. Hopefully. Either that or destroyed reality. Or maybe we got shunted into a parallel timestream, and we’ll just be stuck here forever.”

Brox wished he hadn’t asked.

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Three more times they were challenged by mounted groups patrolling the road, and once by a group led by a fierce, scarred man. The disguised dragon argued with that one, although he seemed intent on the orc who was still trying to get used to being in the form of a tauren. The scarred man sounded particularly reluctant to depart, staring hard at Brox, but finally he wheeled his great cat and rode back the way he’d come.

“That’s going to be annoying,” the Blue huffed once he was gone.

Brox almost didn’t want to ask. “What is?”

“Oh, he said the queen’s head lackey wants to see you, but I told him that you’re on a sacred vision quest and if anyone drags you away from that, you’ll kill yourself in shame.”

The orc paled beneath his furry disguise. He wanted to meet his end, yes, but in glorious combat – not at his own hand like a coward.

“Don’t worry,” Azureon continued blithely. “I won’t let them take you. We’re not going anywhere near the queen if it can be helped.” She started walking towards the city now barely visible in the distance.

“Why not?” Brox demanded as he ran a few steps to catch up.

Silver eyes rolled. “Because she’s evil, and she’s working with the Burning Legion – or she will be.”

==================================

Still well outside the city gates, Azureon turned and began circling around Suramar.

“I thought we were going in,” the orc protested, squinting in the deepening dusk.

“I was kind of distracted during the Third War,” the dragon chirped, ignoring the unspoken question. “Who was leading the night elves? Their leaders had been around a long time, right?”

“There was a High Priestess, Tyr-something, and a druid…” the orc broke off. “We’re looking for the druid?”

“We know they survive, so they’d be a good bet on who to stick with, and we have a better chance of finding a druid on the outskirts of town than one specific priestess in the temple. Back when then was now, there weren’t that many druids. I’m pretty sure the one leading them was the first. Hopefully he’s already started down that path, or we’ll never find him.”

“How do you know this is even his town?”

Azureon flashed Brox a disconcertingly cheerful grin. “I don’t!”

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“So, we’re looking for a male night elf with green hair, antlers, and gold eyes, whose name is something about an angry storm?”

Brox grunted. “That’s all I remember.”

“I guess we’ll have to fake it.” Cheerfully, the Blue flounced up to the door of the once-fine cottage they’d found so far on the edge of Suramar that it was almost in the forest, leaving her companion back out of sight from the door. A few simple wards marked the windows and doors, elegant despite the obvious inexperience of their creator. Whoever the mage was, he or she would be exceptional once fully trained. “Knock knock!” she called, disregarding kaldorei custom with oblivious optimism.

A young male in the middle of dressing opened the door and peered around it, blue hair nearly obscuring one golden eye. “Can I help you?” he asked in a voice that hadn’t broken yet, although what could be seen of him looked well on its way to maturity. That clear, high voice would drop an octave or two within a couple of years, when the teen reached adulthood.

“Thaaaaaat depends. You see, I’m escorting a tauren on a vision quest, and he’s looking for some kind of angry storm of nature.”

The young male frowned. “And you are…?”

“Magus Azurewing,” she said promptly. “From Eldre’thalas.”

The teen straightened, alert now. “Your pardon, Magus. I think your tauren friend might be looking for my brother. Let me go wake him?”

“Of course,” she said, looking completely at ease.

Leaving the door open, the golden-eyed elf disappeared inside the house. A few minutes later, a more plainly-dressed boy came to the door, identical to the first except that the eyes he was knuckling sleep out of were silver. “I’m Malfurion Stormrage,” he said muzzily. “How can I help you?”

“Magus!” called an identical voice from inside the house. “How can I help you, Magus!”

“…how can I help you Magus,” the new boy repeated blankly.

Azureon turned to the orc disguised as a tauren. “Stormrage?” she said in orcish. To the elf, she said, “If you’re Malfurion Stormrage, then who was that?”

The golden-eyed twin pulled the door all the way open. Fully dressed now in a crisp apprentice’s uniform, hair pulled up into a high tail, he bowed. “Illidan Stormrage, Magus,” he said respectfully. “At your service, but nearly late reporting to my Master.”

“Oh, by all means, off you go,” Azureon said, moving aside.

With another bow, the boy took off running.

“Stormrage! Yes, that was it!” Brox exclaimed in orcish. “Does this Stormrage have gold eyes? Green hair?”

“Well…” The dragon glanced back and forth between Malfurion’s sleepy silver eyes and Illidan’s retreating form. “Yes and no, and no, and no.”

The orc scowled. “What do you mean?”

“There’s two of them.”

“Two of them? Well, which one is the golden-eyed druid? It shouldn’t be hard to figure out. He’ll have antlers.”

The disguised dragon turned back to the silver-eyed twin. “Would you mind if my tauren friend takes a look at you? He’s on a vision quest. Something about a storm of nature’s rage and demons and the world splitting in half.” She waved one hand dismissively.

Awake now, Malfurion straightened. “No, not at all. Please come in, Magus. You and your tauren friend are welcome in our home.” He stepped back out of the way as the animated woman gestured to a figure in the shadows and then bounced inside, followed by a surly, furry bullish creature who looked him over, peering intently into his face.

“This is him?” Brox demanded of the dragon. “He’s just a stripling with blue hair and silver eyes. This can’t be the druid.”

“What did he say?” Malfurion asked curiously.

Azureon paused. “He had a vision of someone tied to nature, with green hair and golden eyes and antlers. Someone…” her hands described a bulky torso. “…bigger.”

The boy stared. “Cenarius!”

The supposed tauren took a step back. “Cenarius! The forest god Grom slew?”

“We probably don’t want to mention that,” Azureon said in orcish.

“Now what?” Brox demanded. “I don’t believe that this boy could be the druid that will lead the night elves in our time.”

“Excuse me,” the dragon said pleasantly to the slightly-confused teen. “Are you a druid?”

“Oh, no,” he answered, eyes wide. “Well…not yet.” He flushed. “Cenarius says I will be, someday, if I keep working, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, if I do, I will be the first of my people to do so, and it’s my brother who’s supposed to have the grand destiny.” He looked uncomfortable, torn between being pleased at the idea of being special and being unhappy at the idea of surpassing his twin.

“Is he going to be a druid, too?” the dragon in the form of a night elf woman chirped.

Malfurion shook his head. “Illidan is gifted in the arcane arts. His teachers all talk about how skilled he is…” the teen’s face twisted into a scowl. “…but none of them want to be the one to go down in history as a footnote to my brother, the master eclipsed by his student, so they keep shuffling him around.”

Azureon glanced at the door. “I have no such reservations. I’ll teach him.”

The boy blinked. “You’d do that, Magus? Are you going to be staying in Suramar for a while, then?”

“I can’t promise anything, but I told my tauren friend I’d help him, so I’ll probably be around for a while. His vision included demons and the world cracking, so we’ve more than likely got until then at least.”

“I am in your debt, Magus,” Malfurion said with a bow.

The dragon waved dismissively, grinning. “Nonsense! Think of it as repayment for you helping Brox here.”

“What’s going on?” the orc asked warily.

“I think this boy will become the druid, so we’re going to stick with him for a while and maybe Cenarius will know something about the coming of the Burning Legion.”

Brox looked uncomfortable. “We’re going to talk to him?”

“Nope.” She gave him a sunny smile. “I’m going to be teaching the other one magic. You’re going to talk to the demigod.”

The supposed tauren groaned and suddenly yawned. “Great. Right now I don’t care as long as I can get a good night’s sleep.”

“He can sleep here,” Malfurion offered, guessing the subject from Brox’s yawn. “We have a room we don’t use. Illidan keeps normal hours, but I’m usually up late into the day and he probably shouldn’t try to go into the city, anyway.”

“What did he say?” Brox sighed.

Azureon looked back and forth between elf and orc. “Okay, we have got to work out a translation spell.”

==================================

“Are you sure, Magus? I don’t want to be rude…”

Azureon patted his cheek. “Sleep. Don’t worry about me; I’m not tired.”

“Illidan should be back soon…at least, in a few hours,” Malfurion amended nervously.

“Like I said, don’t worry about me. There’s something I want to check on, anyway. I’ll be back before dawn.”

One last look at the tauren sleeping in the corner, and the night elf boy retreated to another room. The disguised dragon slipped out of the house, closed the door, and warded it behind her before skipping towards Suramar, humming a tune that wouldn’t be written for a few centuries yet. Halfway there, she cupped her hands and a globe of tiny blue points of light appeared, connected by hair-thin lines. She stared at it for a long minute, one dot flaring. Then the globe vanished and she skipped on.

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“Who is it?” called a gruff, grumpy voice. “I’m busy.”

“Too busy for your nephew?” a female voice answered, muffled slightly by the door but amplified by the wards on it.

The door opened to reveal a burly night elf male with skin and hair the same shade as those of the grinning woman on the other side. “And you are…?”

“Magus Azurewing from Eldre’thalas,” the woman chirped obediently.

The man scowled, arms crossed. “Well, that’s funny, because I thought I was Magus Azurewing.” He harrumphed. “Youngsters these days. Well, some on in and tell me why you’re here.”

The woman followed him inside. “You need to leave,” she said bluntly once the door – and wards – had closed behind her.

“And where am I supposed to go, hmm?” the man snorted, unimpressed.

“Your private workroom,” came the prompt answer.

Blue eyebrows raised. “For how long?”

“Until the Well of Eternity explodes?”

Angry now, the man scowled. “And why, exactly, should I hide in my pocket indefinitely?”

The woman tapped her fingers together nervously. “Because you don’t want to help make a weapon for someone who will turn around and use it to kill you and the rest of the family except for Daddy and the babies?”

The man stared, then groped for a seat. “Who are you?” he asked again.

“Azureon,” she said in a small voice. “I’m one of the babies.”

“-on, hmm? Well, I suppose there’s always time to choose later, but why did Father repeat himself?”

Silence.

“I see your point.” He picked up a bronze paperweight and toyed with it a minute, then looked at his niece-nephew, who nodded. “Hmmph. One of the babies, hmm?”

Azureon nodded. “The oldest.”

“Well, I’m flattered. And, I guess, I’m going to be out of town for a while. Anything you suggest I pack?”

In answer, a sphere of pulsing white lines appeared between the blue-haired woman’s hands. The man leaned forward, eyebrows shooting up as he examined the network depicted in the air.

“That’s…but where is? …I see,” he said, leaning back to eye his visitor. “And one final question, little one – is anyone else going on vacation?”

The woman beamed. “I have no idea. My aunts and uncles are all so reclusive, you see.”

The man beamed back. “Thank you, nephew. Good of you to drop by.”

“You’re welcome, Uncle Azuregos!”