III - Call of the Council

[Liandrix]

Liandrix landed on hands and knees on a cold marble floor. The room was gigantic, and dark, and he understood why he hadn’t been able to see through the portal at first. A first glance told him his hunch was correct; they had landed in Dalaran, in the middle of the Violet Citadel.

All was quiet, he was alone. The windows high in the vaulted ceiling told him it was night. How long had they been in that church? Where was the Troll that named itself Zul’jin? What had happened to Kel’thuzad?

A door banged open close to the huge double entrance doors. Liandrix knew it to be a passage down to the chambers below, and also the Violet Hold. Had it been there where Zul’jin had gone? To search for Arcane artefacts? But it was the steward of the Citadel that strolled out to meet Liandrix, and he seemed to be unhurt, if a bit unsettled.

“What is the meaning of this?” The short bald and bearded mage said. He was dressed in nightclothes with a cloak around his shoulders. “A portal in the middle of the Citadel? The Safeguards are blazing with alarm signals!”

The steward waved an arm above his head as if to cast the portal away.

“No don’t!” Liandrix shouted, but the steward had already cast his spell.

A dull hum struck the air, much the same as it had in the church. It was a vibration that seemed to shake Liandrix’ very brain.

“What’s this? Some jape of yours?” the steward asked.

The portal was still there. Whatever had blocked Kel’thuzad’s spells was apparently still in effect here.

“Listen to me, that portal wasn’t created by me, but by a Troll by the name of Zul’jin,” Liandrix said hurriedly.

The mage snorted. “A Troll? Here? Conjuring a portal? That’s the most ridiculous—“

Bright light appeared beyond the windows overhead. A sharp, flickering glare that seemed to dance across the glass.

“What is this?” the steward of the Citadel asked, but Liandrix was already sprinting towards the door.

He heaved one of the double doors open and peered through the crack out into the waning darkness. Light played with shadow on the face of the structures around him. Dalaran was burning. The steward appeared at his shoulder and squeaked when he saw the flames rise above the houses above the city. The streets were empty.

Liandrix spotted movement from the opposite building; a figure crossed the street and approached the citadel in a zigzag motion, as if it was confused or looking for something. The mage at Liandrix side recognised it sooner than he himself did.

“TROLL!!” he shouted.

Now Liandrix saw it too. It wasn’t Zul’Jin, but it was unmistakably a troll. It was dressed in leather and wool and it wore several beaded bands and necklaces made of bones. It seemed unarmed at first, but when the Troll spotted the two mages in the doorway of the Citadel it cried out something in a foreign tongue, brandished a thin weapon threateningly and advanced.

More shadows appeared from buildings; Trolls, all of them. They were running around, seemingly in disarray, yelling their strange words and creating confusion.

“We are under attack!” the bald mage howled. “The Grand Magus! I must call the Grand Magus? Where are the battlemages?”

At the same moment the Steward ran inside there was a whip-like crack in the air and a tall Troll appeared in a flash of blue light on top of the steps, not ten feet away from where Liandrix was standing. It brandished a long ornate staff. Liandrix had just enough time to witness a flash of red and purple before he was blown back onto the marble floor of the Citadel’s atrium.

Liandrix scrambled to his feet as fast as he could. But what was he to do? They were confronted with a an army of Trolls, the city was already burning and he could feel something blocking his Arcane energy still, like a giant fist closed tightly around his mind.

The door creaked and Liandrix’ heart skipped a beat as he turned to face the Troll, his mind racing through ideas by which to defend himself with. The purple staff preceded the creature that held it as Liandrix raised his hands protectively, his mind void of a design to fight.

“Antonidas?”

The tall Archmage strolled into the atrium in robes of flowing red and purple, holding his staff in a protective manner as the red ruby on top emitted a fierce glare. He pointed the staff at Liandrix who immediately lowered his hands, trying not look like a threat. The Archmage ran his fingers through his greying brown beard as he observed the hall. Eventually his eyes locked onto Liandrix.

“Where did that Troll go?” he asked. His words were measured, but Liandrix could see the fury behind his eyes that his voice concealed.

“Troll? There’s— I don’t…”

Antonidas seemed to notice the portal in the back of the room and moved past Liandrix. Carefully he raised a hand and caressed rather than touched the dull edges of the portal.

The truth suddenly struck Liandrix. Much like in Holden Hill, the whole city here had been struck by an immense illusion. The Trolls he had seen appearing in the streets must have been none but the citizens of Dalaran themselves, concealed somehow to look like forest Trolls. The fire must be part of the illusion as well, then.

The Archmage turned away from the portal and carefully eyed Liandrix up and down. His eyes seemed to indicate recognition.

“What happened in Holden Hill?”

“An illusion,” Liandrix said as he recalled the events in the abandoned village. The image of Cecillia swam through his mind; the surprised look on her face as she groped her hands bloody on a blade that stuck from her chest; the empty, blank look in her eyes as Zul’Jin pushed her lifeless form aside.

Archmage Antonidas seemed to realise what he was thinking, or at least understand what must have happened for he did not ask further. He struck out an arm to uncover it from its sleeve and took off a golden ring lined with tiny rubies along the band. He held it in his palm as he carefully touched it with the tip of his staff.

“It won’t work,” Liandrix warned. “Something seems to have happened to the Arcane here.”

The Archmage frowned at Liandrix for a moment, his staff still poised above the ring in hand.

“There are Safeguards in place no amount of altering of the Arcane could temper,” Antonidas said gently, and firmly pushed the ruby onto the ring. Nothing happened.

Liandrix was not surprised the spell had not worked, but the calm look that Antonidas bore gave him pause. Something else nagged at him as well, and it wasn’t long before he figured out what. Archmage Antonidas had used a spell to blast Liandrix back into the Citadel. Also, the Illusion seemed only to work outside. Once Antonidas had crossed the threshold of the building he had regained his own identity, and had also sensed that something was wrong.

“The whole city is in the grasp of an illusion, but I think Zul’jin is casting it from this location.”

“Zul’jin?”

“The Troll, he—“

There was a loud crack in the air and a flash of blinding purple light in between the two mages and out of nowhere a tall man strode into the atrium. He had a long grey beard that was bound into a loose braid and a mane of grey hair that ran to the back of his neck. He was dressed in simple robes of blue and grey and bore no staff or wand as far as Liandrix could see.

“David,” Archmage Antonidas began as he gave a small smile.

“I know. The sentinels? “

“I called them as well, they should be here momentarily.”

The Grand Magus locked eyes with Liandrix, and proceeded to observe the portal behind him before looking back at Antonidas. Liadrix realised that Antonidas had used the staff and the ring to call for the Grand Magus and the battlemages.

“Zul’Jin’s doing apparently,” Antonidas answered the unasked question.

“And you …”

“Came from outside, he must still be here.”

“The artefacts are untouched,” the Grand Magus mused. It sounded like the two mages were discussing the weather.

“Kel’thuzad went after him!” Liandrix blurted out. “I don’t know where they went but I know he must have followed Zul’Jin.”

The two old mages looked at one another for a moment and seemed to come to the same conclusion without communicating in words. Liandrix was amazed how they could do that.

“Only one direction for him to go. Come.” And David Spellsword moved to the stairs leading up to the upper tier with Antonidas and Liandrix in tow.

Liandrix feared that the Archmages didn’t take the threat seriously. They climbed the marble steps of the long circular stairs slowly while overhead the shadow of the flames still danced among the glass. When they reached the top their way was barred by a set of doors so plain that they seemed out of place in a grand building such as the citadel, but Liandrix knew they hid one of the most powerful creations the Kirin Tor had ever conceived.

He had learned the secret, by the name of the Arcane Root, years ago from Robert. The room held nothing more than a spell engraved into the floor which could amplify any given spell cast while standing onto it. While most spells can be empowered as such in any given place, this particular spell was wrought into the stone, combined with both the spells in which the whole city was built and the leyline on which it was built to begin with. The amount of power one could harness from the spell could inflict unimaginable damage, and was therefore kept strictly secret even from most of the Kirin Tor.

So when the trio burst into the chamber and Liandrix saw the Arcane inscription glow a murky green he felt himself sway on the spot. The Troll stood not on the spell but behind it, staff in hand and his other high in the air as it chanted in the languages of spirits. The Arcane root consisted of a giant circle in which words of Arcane Power were worked in patterns consistent with the architecture of the entire city on a small scale.

Kel’thuzad was plastered to a wall next to the door. Purple bands of Arcane energy kept him in place by his hands feet and chest. He looked unseemly furious, his usual handsome features twisted in uncontrolled rage. His teeth were bared in a silent snarl and his long dark hair concealed what would likely be a glower meant to kill. He didn’t even notice the new arrivals. For the first time Liandrix spotted a hint of worry on the faces of his superiors. Both Archmages stared from Kel’thuzad to the active Arcane Root and Zul’jin, who was still chanting uninterruptedly whilst staring straight at the Grand Magus.

Antonidas stepped in front of David Spellsword with his staff slightly raised. Its tip glowed blue and pulsed for a moment and went still. Zul’Jin leered.

“Your power be useless. It be mine, now. The spirits are with me. Tonight the Gods shall dance in the halls of the wizards. Jan’alai shall come. Akil’zon shall come. My brethren await. The Amani shall come!”

The Troll grasped his staff tightly and thrust it into the air above the Root, the skulls, beads and medallions bound on its tip rattled. He continued a chant in his own language and seemed to get more and more exited. Zul’jin looked slightly insane.

“I think it is time to send this Witch Doctor back from whence it came,” Archmage Antonidas announced as he raised his staff once more. The troll did not seem to notice this time, or perhaps he simply ignored the mage.

“It’s not a Witch Doctor,” Liandrix said before he could stop himself. Both Antonidas and David turned their heads. Liandrix looked from one pair of unblinking eyes to the other and pointed at the Troll, now positively howling the strange words over the glowing Arcane Root.

“He is dressed in leather and wool, and is wearing weaponry other than his staff. Only Troll warriors wear that type of clothing, and Witch Doctors do not use knives or daggers. Also, his muscle mass is much higher than the average Troll. And the staff does not belong to him. Do you see the markings beneath the skulls? They differ from the markings on his face in the way that points out that whomever the staff belonged to is from the same tribe, but not of the same family.”

“This Troll is not a Witch Doctor? He is showing more aptitude towards the Arcane than I’ve ever known a Witch Doctor to show towards Troll magic!” Antonidas retorted. Behind him the Troll had fallen silent and was staring at the mages again.

Liandrix stole a glance at the Arcane Root. “I’m not so sure it’s Arcane magic he is casting through the Root.”

Zul’jin jabbed with his staff in their direction. “I be Zul’Jin, da leader of dem Amani, speaker to gods, slayer of humans. You be right, I be no Witch Doctor, but I have been given da secret of da spirit magic and the language of dem Gods! They approved of me, and so the Gods taught me how to use your spiritless magic.”

Spiritless. Liandrix looked at the Root that was oozing thick green smoke and was reminded of that time in the pine forest with Falen and Derreck. He had figured out the connection that made their magical creatures what they had been. But the moment had been made obsolete by David’s arrival, and now he had forgotten. The hum in the air he had felt downstairs had jolted his memory, but he couldn’t quite recapture his theory. And yet …

It hadn’t been the first time where the energy in the air seemed out of place. He had felt the vibrations in the air before, in the Church. Had he also felt them in the pine forest?

A flash of purple light covered them all in shadow and Liandrix’ head shot up to see a violet projectile being fired at the Troll. It had originated from the staff of Antonidas. It seemed to grow as it travelled and gained speed as well, but as it sped over the Arcane Root towards Zul’jin it suddenly halted in midair, revolving slowly around its axis. There was a short moment of silence in which the bolt started to vibrate violently before it exploded, showering the mages in miniscule shards and grains.

Liandrix covered his face with his arms as he was showered with Arcane crystals. When he resurfaced he saw that both Archmages had been hit with equal force. David rose carefully but Antonidas jumped to his feet in shock.

“This cannot be!”

Liandrix moved his hand over a thumb-sized shard wedged into his belt. He grabbed it delicately with two fingers and was rewarded with a shock that jolted his whole arm. Shaking it loose he pulled the shard from the leather and let it fall to the floor. He stared at it. No Arcane energy would be capable of causing a static field like that. Being a current of energies it could never hold energy in a static place. An Arcane spell cast with a field of static energy was possible, but it would destroy its Arcane potency and make it weak.

Liandrix couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this idea before, however. Creating a static field was a way to shield oneself against magical attacks. But the process was tiring, and yielded no full-proof shield unlike a solid shield based on Arcane energy. The static shield would simply absorb the negative energy of the spell and unstable and weaken it, but it would never fully stop it. It was a weak form of Arcane; a half of the full potential and so mages did not ever bother with it.

Antonidas cupped the tip of his staff with his left hand and a dark orb of energy formed around it. Behind him David wore a grim expression but did not stop the other Archmage. An orb was not as strong as a shard in terms of containing unstable Arcane energy.

“WAIT!” Liandrix shouted before Antonidas could throw the orb. He turned affronted.

“What?”

Liandrix was unsure of how to proceed. The one thing he knew was that Arcane magic alone would not work.

“The boy is right, we cannot just attack him so,” David said gravely.

“We must act now! Before this Troll turns this entire city to ash with his spells!”

Liandrix felt the pressure in his head as he tried desperately to think of the solution as to how to pass the Arcane Root without disturbing its energy. He needed a connection to negate the static fields, but without the proper binding it was useless.

Then David Spellsword turned and looked at Liandrix and Liandrix looked back, meeting his gaze. He didn’t speak, he didn’t need to, but he could tell the Grand Magus was telling him something, or asking him.

And then he remembered.

Somewhere in this citadel, in some dusty office, David Spellsword had revealed his identity, but not before transporting the both of them there without physical contact. Liandrix had questioned it at the time stating that a connection must be established before a host could transport another entity. Later he had found out he had been right, but there had been more to that theory than he had known at the time. But he knew now.

Zul’jin had sunk to his knees with the staff raised in both hands above his head. He seemed to be praying, his mouth forming silent words. Liandrix raised his palm, his fingers interlocked and he closed his eyes so he could focus in order to create the binding he needed.

A vision of Zul’jin swam in his mind’s eye as he focussed on the energy surrounding him. He had been right. There was a static energy shield that was constantly being fed. It protected the Troll and the Root, and yet … it seemed not to originate from the Troll. Liandrix found this strange. In order to feed such a static field continuously one would require unimaginable power. Nevertheless, the connection was made, at last.

Liandrix opened his eyes and every other pair was directed at him, including Zul’jin’s. Liandrix looked the Troll straight in the eyes. Now he just needed to release the proper energy, at the proper time. His hand glided over his robe. There was another jagged piece of crystal in the folds of his robes. Time seemed to have stopped. Liandrix shook with the effort of maintaining the binding, focussing on conjuring and keeping his hand over the Arcane crystal. Unbidden, an old thesis swam before his mind. He had written it himself, before casting it in the bin.

A static shield can serve as a shield if properly inducted with the right energy. But the process is taking more than it could ever protect. The shield is quite useless.

The Troll looked at him steadily. Perhaps it was Liandrix’ imagination, but he seemed tense. He was no longer praying. Perhaps he should not have stopped now.

A static shield however powerful has a flaw. If encased, imbued or even grazed by the wrong energy …

Liandrix looked at David. His eyes held a twinkle that he was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago.

… the whole process, the energy, the static shield …

Liandrix’ hand hovered over the shard in his robe. His palm extended towards Zul’Jin. A silent prayer from a place far away in his past escaped Liandrix’ lips.

… will shatter.

His hand connected with the shard. At the same time he released the energy he had been focussing. When ice can burn like fire.

There was a jolt in his arm, followed by an impact to the atmosphere, an effect seemingly reverse of a hum striking the air. The static field did not just shatter. It backfired. But the explosion came not from the points of origin as Liandrix had thought but from the Arcane Root itself. Silver specks shattered off the Arcane spell in the ground, upwards, where they clashed and exploded, flying in all directions. In midair the silver specks turned to streaks of water, which turned to ice, which turned into spikes.

Liandrix had no time to cast a protective spell; he had used up both his energy and his time to form the proper spell at the proper time. He had no chance.

He saw a shadow moving in the corner of his eye, as if in slow-motion, and then several things happened at once.
A darkness spread across the windows above as at the same time a fierce glow half blinded Liandrix. The ice that had come from the imploding shield shattered upon an invisible barrier. Behind Liandrix he heard a muffled groan and an impact to the floor as Kel’thuzad fell from his bindings. Across the Arcane Root the Troll Zul’jin, although protected from the ice shards himself, was firmly planted against the wall behind him. The whole situation had reversed itself in a matter of seconds.

Finally everything was quiet around Liandrix. Carefully, as if afraid that something else might explode, he glanced around the room.

Kel’thuzad was slowly disentangling himself from his robe. His bindings had vanished. Both the Archmages had a staff in hand, pointed towards the troll which was now stuck to the wall as only seconds before Kel’thuzad had been. Liandrix wondered for a moment which of the Archmages had been the one to stop the ice. David’s staff had seemingly come from nowhere.

The situation seemed to be under control. The light outside the windows was gone, meaning that the illusion had probably ended for Dalaran. But when Liandrix glanced at the inscription made into the stone before him it continued to pulse with an eerie green glow.

“You be too late,” Zul’jin drawled from his uncomfortable position against the wall.

David lowered his staff. Liandrix rather he didn’t. “Whatever harm you thought you could do to Dalaran has ended, Zul’jin.”

The Troll grinned, displaying his tusks in full. “jah, da gods shall not be dancing here tonight. But that be not an issue.”

Liandrix took a step back as the staff of Zul’jin, that was laying at his feet, started smouldering, sending green smoke to rise up to fill the domed roof and cover the windows.

“It be no matter …”

“David …” Antonidas muttered.

“… If dem gods cannot come here …”

“I know, I feel it too,” David answered as he raised his staff protectively.

“… We shall go to da gods!” Zul’jin started to laugh.

Liandrix heard distant footsteps from behind the doors. Now that the illusion had lifted battlemages must surely be on their way.

“Jan’alai! Take us to the land of flames!” Zul’jin shouted as he looked at his burning staff.

The staff rose into the air, still burning, then shot towards Zul’jin. And when the tip of the staff connected with the Troll’s head the world vanished. The floor beneath their feet disappeared, the windows turned black as night and the walls fell away. Liandrix had one last fleeting look of the Archmages as they shared a look, of Kel’thuzad who snarled in Zul’jin’s direction, and of the door that seemed to burst open in an unnatural slow manner, before that too vanished in a sudden tidal wave of smoke ash and fire.