Draenor, as he had realized it would be, was a beast in pain tearing itself to pieces.

And, Khadgar realized, Draenor might not die alone. “Azeroth is in danger!" he yelled over the din. "These rifts are links between worlds. And the Dark Portal is the largest and the only stable one." There was an odd silence as, for the moment, the earth stilled. Khadgar spoke quickly.

"Our worlds are connected. Damage here could leak through the portal and affect Azeroth as well!" He gri­maced and stepped out of the circle, trying not to groan in dismay as his energy levels plummeted back to normal. It was like turning away from a bonfire and accepting a weak torch in its place. But he knew that to stay there longer would endanger them all. "I have to get back to the Dark Portal!"

"Do you have what you need to close it?"

"I have the skull. And the book is here, somewhere. I'll find it," he said with more assurance than he felt.

Turalyon nodded. "I'll rally the troops," he promised.

But Khadgar shook his head. "There's no time!" he insisted, grabbing his friend's shoulder. "Don't you un­derstand? I'm sorry, Turalyon, so sorry — but if I can't shut down the portal right away, when Draenor is de­stroyed it could take Azeroth with it!"

He saw the realization dawn in Turalyon's eyes, and hated the grim resignation he saw accompany it. But his friend merely nodded. "We'll take gryphons," he an­nounced. "That's the fastest way back." Then he squared his shoulders. "I will speak to the troops before we go. However short time may be, they deserve that." He ex­tended a hand to Alleria and together they ran down the stairs.

Khadgar barely noticed them depart. He'd snatched the Eye right out of Ner’zhul's hand, but he hadn't had time to locate the Book of Medivh before Ner’zhul had retaliated, it was here, he told himself — it had to be in order for the spell to work in harmony with the three constellations. Ner’zhul had still been clutching a silver-trimmed scepter when he'd disappeared, presumably the Scepter of Sargeras. Fine — far safer for such an ac­cursed item to be well away from Azeroth. But where was the blasted book? He needed it to finish the job, and that job had to be finished right now, before it was too late for all of them.

He extended his senses, but there was too much magic in the air for him to sense anything clearly. The book could be right beneath my nose or miles away. Damn it! he thought in frustration.

Khadgar caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, ready to defend himself. One of the bodies had moved, just a little. Its midsec­tion was badly charred, and Khadgar realized that this was the orc Ner’zhul had attacked just before going through the portal. The one who'd called Ner’zhul a coward for leaving the others behind. Again, Khadgar was grateful he'd brought the ring that had enabled him to understand other languages, and he lowered his hands, watching closely.

The orc heaved and grunted, obviously in tremen­dous pain. It reached for something and, with great ef­fort, held it out to Khadgar with an arm that shook. It was a large, heavily embossed rectangle with carved metal edges. Khadgar caught his breath as he recog­nized it.

The Book of Medivh.

"I am no… shaman. But Obris is smart enough to know… that this will be of use to you, will it not?"

Khadgar hesitated. The orc was a few steps away from death, but it could still be some kind of trick. "Yes," he said at last. "Why do you give it to me then? I am your enemy."

"You at least are an honorable foe," Obris growled. "Ner’zhul betrayed us. He re-formed the Horde, and forced my Laughing Skull clan back into the fold. He promised us a new start. But as soon as—" He coughed and then continued in a ragged voice. "As soon as he found safety, he fled. He and his favorites live… . The rest of us … we are nothing to him."

The eyes flashed with a final spark. "It would please me to know my last act… was to defy him. Take it. Take it, curse you! Take it and make him pay for his treachery."

Khadgar moved toward the dying orc and gently took the book from his blackened, bloody hands. "I promise you, Obris. We will do everything in our power to stop Ner’zhul."

The orc nodded, closed his eyes, and went still.

The vagaries of fate, Khadgar mused, quickly undoing the clasps and opening the book to glance through its pages. He remembered first seeing this massive tome back in Medivh's library only a few years ago. So much had changed since then; it felt like a lifetime. Then, he had been terrified of the book but overpowered by cu­riosity. Fortunately, its wards had prevented him from even turning the cover, or else the magics contained within might have destroyed him. Now Khadgar by­passed them with case, and skimmed the book's con­tents with growing excitement. As he expected, the book contained details about how Medivh and Gul'dan had worked together to create the rift. Armed with these necessary details and the still-lingering power in Gul’dan's skull, Khadgar was confident he could now shut down the Dark Portal for good. But could he do so in time?

He glanced up at the sound of beating wings. Sev­eral gryphons were circling the roof, wings spread as they prepared to land. Khadgar spotted Kurdran, and another Wildhammer was gesturing to the mage. Nodding, he threw the book in his sack, handed the precious bag up, then gripped the Wildhammer's out­stretched hand and swung himself onto the gryphon.

"Where are Alleria and Turalyon?" Khadgar shouted to Kurdran.

"Speakin' tae 'is troops," the dwarf replied.

"They'll have to catch up, then," Khadgar said, shak­ing his head. "We have no time to waste! To the Dark Portal!"

The gryphons squawked as their riders tugged on the reins, then they wheeled about and rose, wings beating hard against the wind and the weight of two passengers each. Khadgar watched the Black Temple slip away behind them and closed his eyes, his hair and beard streaming out behind him. He held the sack close. With the gryphons they would reach the portal in minutes instead of hours or days. He just hoped it was soon enough.

Alleria rested her head on her lover's shoulder as the gryphon they rode hovered over the Black Temple. She squeezed Turalyon's waist gently, giving him silent sup­port. She knew how bleak his heart was at what he was about to do. But she also knew he would not shirk what had to be done.

"Sons of Lothar!" Turalyon cried, raising his ham­mer high above his head. Alleria glanced away; its light pierced the clouds gathering above, shedding a brilliant white radiance upon the entire valley, from the Black Temple behind them to the mouth of the Alliance fort far ahead. "Months ago, we came through the Dark Portal, not knowing what awaited us, but knowing that we had to come. We had to come to stop the Horde from taking other worlds as it tried — and failed!—to do with our beloved Azeroth. And the moment to do pre­cisely that has arrived, Khadgar has what he needs in order to close the portal, but this world is in chaos. Azeroth — our home — is in danger once again. We must all do everything we can — serve as best we may — to save it, and our families we have left behind."

He looked out over the men before him, and Alleria knew he was burning each face into his memory. "I go to help Khadgar, to protect him, for I am sure there will be resistance. You … must hold the line here. You have never failed me yet. I know, my brothers, you will not fail me now." His voice cracked. Through the tears in her own eyes, Alleria saw that he wept.

"None of us knows what will happen. We may sur­vive this, and find a way home, and live to a ripe old age with stories to dazzle our grandchildren. Or we may die here, with this world. And if such is our fate, I know each one of you chooses it gladly. For we fight for our world — our families — our honor. We fight so that others might live free because of what we do here, today, this hour, this moment. And if there is anything in this world or any other worth dying for — the Light knows, it is this."