Then, a pair of claws caught him just as he fell free and Rhonin’s voice shouted, “We’ve got you, Brox!”

The red dragon acting as the wizard’s mount twisted so as to allow the orc to climb atop. Rhonin gave the orc a hand up, letting the graying warrior slide in behind him.

“That was just a little foolhardy even for an orc, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe so,” Brox admitted, thinking of the portal. Brave as he considered himself, he was grateful that he had not fallen into it. The further away he got from it, the better.

The wizard suddenly stiffened. “Watch out! Here come two more!”

The shadow bats converged on their position. Rhonin’s hand flared bright as he readied a spell. Brox hefted his ax, prepared to be as much help as he could. He welcomed the new adversaries, if only because they took his mind off the portal.

The portal and an evil that stirred fear even in an orc.

The sight of Deathwing rebuffed by the spell surrounding the disk both astounded and disheartened Malfurion. If even the black dragon could not penetrate the dark magic, then what could the druid and his companions hope to do?

But Malfurion had no more opportunity to worry about the disk, for, at that moment, a menacing form dropped upon Ysera. The green dragon roared as the bat’s fangs sank into her shoulder near the spine. The night elf slid to the side, trying to avoid being buried under the beast.

A sword cut at his head, narrowly missing his ear.

“Slippery little fool!” hissed Varo’then, once more wielding his favored weapon. Azshara’s officer thrust again, this time nicking Malfurion on the cheek. Varo’then drew the sword back for another strike. “The next one’ll take your head!”

The druid thrust his hand into a pouch. He knew what he sought and prayed he would find it. The familiar feel reassured him and he pulled out the seeds.

Captain Varo’then adjusted his position. The evil grin spread wide. The demons had found a perfect subordinate in the sadistic soldier.

As the blade came down, Malfurion threw the seeds into the bat’s maw.

The monster convulsed immediately. The sword point, fixed on the druid’s throat, instead cut a bloody but shallow line across his collarbone. Malfurion grunted from the pain, but held on.

A fiery glow erupted from within Varo’then’s mount. The captain tried to maintain control, but to no avail. The bat flailed around, shrieking.

A moment later, it burst into flames.

Malfurion had used the seeds’ inherent heat during earlier battles. However, with only a few left, he had not thought to wield them up here, where they might not be utilized well. Only because the shadowy creature had been right on top of him had the night elf managed to make certain that all reached their target, the throat.

The fiery spectacle was so bright that Malfurion had to look away. He heard Varo’then shout, but the words were lost.

With one last shrill cry, the incinerated beast dropped from sight.

Gasping for breath, Malfurion clung to Ysera. The dragon could do nothing for her rider, for another of the bats already had her attention. The druid held on as tight as he could while he tried to regain his composure. The pain from his wounds stung terribly and the knowledge that the disk was still untouchable drained him further.

A sharp pain coursed through his calf.

Malfurion cried out. He nearly lost his hold. Blood trickled into his boot as he wildly kicked at the source. He turned watery eyes toward his leg and the cause of his agony.

Captain Varo’then clutched tightly to Ysera’s lower back, the scarred soldier grunting as he made his way up a scale at a time. The cause of Malfurion’s new pain — the officer’s curved dagger — was clenched between Varo’then’s teeth. Malfurion’s blood dribbled unnoticed down the other night elf’s pointed chin.

How Varo’then had managed to snag hold of Ysera as his burning mount had dropped, Malfurion did not know, but once again he had underestimated the officer. He kicked again as hard as he could, but the captain easily avoided his foot. While it was all Malfurion could do to hold on as Ysera fought, the more battle-hardened Varo’then moved with practiced skill toward his foe. His narrowed eyes sized up Malfurion like a fat animal ready for the slaughter…

The druid reached for a pouch — and, at the same time, Varo’then’s left hand came up.

“Aaugh!” A crimson flash blinded Malfurion. Too late he recalled that the captain had some minor talent with sorcery. Not enough to be a true threat in that manner, but certainly enough to put his enemy off-guard while the officer moved in for the kill.

Malfurion put up his free hand, an act which likely kept him from being slain. A heavy, metallic form fell upon him — Varo’then’s armored body — and the druid felt the other night elf’s hot breath in his face.

“The Light of Lights will reward me greatly for this!” the captain uttered maniacally. “Mannoroth fell afoul of you! Archimonde fell afoul of you! Such an insipid creature and you outwitted them both! Lord Sargeras’s grand commanders! Ha! I’ll not only again be her favored for this, but his as well! Me! Lord Varo’then!”

“Sargeras means to destroy Kalimdor, not remake it!” Malfurion blurted, trying to make his foe see sense.

“Of course! I realized that long ago! Pfah! What do I care for this little patch of dirt? So long as I can serve the queen and command warriors in her name, I care not where I do it! Who knows, perhaps for this Sargeras will make me his supreme commander! For that and the adoration of Azshara, I’ll gladly see Kalimdor a cinder!”

Varo’then’s madness truly consumed him. Malfurion suddenly grew outraged that one of his own kind could so blithely speak of the end of all things, especially the cherished world that had birthed their kind. It went against everything Cenarius had taught him and what Malfurion had always believed.

“Kalimdor is our blood, our breath, our very existence!” the druid shouted, his fury rising. “We are as much a part of it as the trees, the rivers, and the very rocks! We are its children! You would be slaying the mother that birthed us!” His forehead started to burn.

“You are pathetic! We live upon a tiny rock that’s one of many rocks! Kalimdor is nothing! Through the Legion and my queen, I will cross a thousand worlds, all of whom will be crushed under our feet! Power, druid! Power is my blood, my breath, do you understand?” Captain Varo’then twisted his dagger-wielding hand out of Malfurion’s grasp. “But if the coming death of Kalimdor troubles you so, I’ll grant you the favor of sending you to the afterlife to be there to welcome its shade firsthand!”

But Malfurion’s anger had reached its limits. Eyes on fire, he stared into Varo’then’s own. “You want power? Feel the power of the world you would betray, captain!”

It flowed through the druid as naturally as his blood. He felt it rush from its source… Kalimdor. The world itself was not sentient, but it was a living thing, nonetheless and, through Malfurion, it at last struck back.

From the druid erupted a soft, blue light that hit Varo’then full in the chest.

With a cry, Malfurion’s attacker was battered from his mount. Dagger knocked from his flailing grip, the captain helplessly soared up high over the Well of Eternity. The light not only now bathed Varo’then, it burned right through him. His flesh, his sinew, his organs, and his skeleton were all visible beneath his glowing armor. The officer’s screaming head was a skull under transparent skin.

Varo’then had rejected everything about Kalimdor… and now, through Malfurion, Kalimdor rejected everything about him. Still enveloping the captain, the light made an arc over the center of the Well, then descended sharply toward the gullet of the whirlpool. As it did, it suddenly faded.