Resistance - 5 (Patreon)

"I must counsel against this." Archdruid Staghelm said, and though he spoke to Malfurion foremost, his gaze was firmly fixed upon Jaina; narrowed glowing eyes pierced into her with thinly veiled anger. He knew that the suggestion had come from her, though not how or why she had said it. "We have prepared for the coming battle. Even our allies, who defile our sacred mountain with their preparations, are ready to stand against the demons. You would plan for our defeat before the battle has even begun!"

Perhaps Cenarius' survival was enough to change events, to alter the course of the future such that the sacrifice of the world tree was unnecessary, but... Jaina was not willing to risk it. Nor were the other leaders of the defence; not Malfurion, who shook his antlered head, nor their overall commander.

Commander Shadowsong just smiled, though it was a bitter and tired one. "That you speak so easily of our victory tells me that you were born after the demon's last – after Archimonde's last invasion." He met their eyes, lingering for a moment longer upon Malfurion and Tyrnade – who nodded her head with a grim expression – before returning to Archdruid Staghelm. "Defeating the Legion with only the loss of our immortality would be a great victory."

"It is better to have a contingency in place than to lack one." Jaina added, glancing down the slopes of the mountain.

Below them, scarcely visible in the distance, Admiral Candren and Thane Ironblast were hard at work constructing the defences that would bear the first assaults of the undead. She had faith in their abilities, in their knowledge of warfare to see the fortifications built to be the greatest they could be – but, every man and woman, every elf, gnome, and dwarf who would garrison those fortifications knew that they were but a roadblock.

In time, be it hours, days, or even weeks, they would be overrun.

Some had deserted, unwilling to face death itself, but though their cowardice cost them, it was hard for Jaina to blame them for fleeing.

Instead, she chose to be proud of those brave soldiers, those brave people, who remained and swore to spit defiantly in the face of the untold horrors that came for them. To the very last moment, she would stand by their side and save those that she could.

"The Alliance will do our part, Archdruid Staghelm." Jaina turned back to stare the tall elf in the eyes, unflinching against his antagonism. "We will fight, we will die, and we will buy you time. Our homes have been turned to ash and rubble, our people made into the monsters we face; we will fight but we cannot claim victory. Not alone. That rests upon your people."

Beside her Uther bowed his head in prayer, the Libram of Justice he carried glowing with Light as he held the holy tome to his chest. She knew he hoped for the same thing she did...

That, even though it was foretold to not be true by Gwyneth, Arthas would be amongst the assault. So that Lordaeron, King Terenas, Dalaran, and so many innocent people could be granted justice at last. To make up for failing to stop him.

"The matter is settled, Fandral." Malfurion said firmly, tapping his staff against the soil. "We know the price of failure too well to ignore what is necessary. Nor can we place ourselves above the others who give their lives in our defence – this is our duty, the very mantle with which we were entrusted." He snorted and shook his head. "Were we to ignore this opportunity, we would be unworthy of the gift we were granted ten thousand years ago."

"Elune be willing, it shall not be necessary. But if it must be done..." Tyrande smiled fiercely. "Then so be it. Let the demon choke on the power he seeks."

Commander Shadowsong nodded as Archdruid Staghelm fell back with a frown. "Do not fear that you fight alone, Lady Proudmoore. This resistance of ours is but a reflection of the one of old, but it is no lesser for it." For a moment he smiled at her, but quickly regained his determined focus. "Warchief Thrall, Chieftain Bloodhoof, have you given the Admiral's offer consideration?"

"We have." Cairne Bloodhoof snorted and turned to Thrall. "After much discussion, and a particular volunteer, the Horde agrees to the proposal of the lady of the seas."

Thrall shot Cairne a look that Jaina could only call grumpy. "Few of my people are willing to die for humans." He huffed. "Yet Eitrigg has... assembled those that are willing. Veterans who will stand in the front lines alongside your knights. Treat them well, Proudmoore."

Once more Jaina was disappointed that the friendship she was supposed to kindle with Thrall seemed entirely absent. Yet, it was good that he was still willing to work with them; there was still hope there. "And we will have cannon crews moved to add to your fortifications." Holding out her hand she offered him a warm smile. "For the sake of our world, let us fight together."

He stared at her for one long moment before he grasped her hand. "For our world."

-oOoOo-

"Blunt their charge, give the cannons a chance to aim!" Alicia roared over the deafening din of combat from atop her tower. There hadn't been a moment of peace since the fighting started yesterday morning – if it wasn't ghouls it was gargoyles, if it was gargoyles it was necromancers, if it wasn't any one of them it was the whole bloody lot. "Get in there and fight!"

With her orders given, and an answering horn marking the beginnings of the Silver Hand's counter-charge, Alicia ducked back inside and went back to her own work. "Six degrees up, keep it over their heads!" She barked after a glance at the carefully chiselled measurements beside the firing hole. They'd spent good powder, and a lot of man hours, ranging the artillery properly. Each and every shot had to count. At least long enough for the mages to finish their big working and join the fight.

"Steady..." She said, helping push the barrel into place as it was winched up. "Steady..." Watching moment by moment, one eye closed, she waited until the abominations were in line with the marker, their charge slowed by the arrival of the paladins.

"Fire!"

The whole world seemed to ring with the boom of the cannon, and as the other three in the tower followed suit, the structure shook. Three dozen more followed suit from the other towers along the line, and fire erupted ahead of them.

Seeing the mockeries of everything good and holy fall in flames was enough to set the tower cheering, not that anyone could hear anything save the echoing thunder of the guns.

Yet even in that brief moment of celebration they quickly got back to work. They all did – Alicia helped roll the cannon back into place and shot hand signs at her deaf fellows to direct the next volley. They might've toppled the first wave, but the next was coming; no one cared that it was just the damned spiders, if they didn't fire they'd catch the paladins and bog them down.

It took less than a minute to clear the guns, swab out the debris, and load the next shot. Once more fire blossomed from their tower and spent its fury upon the advancing undead.

Stepping out of the tower, Alicia put her spyglass to her eye and watched as the paladins retreated in good order. They weren't even down a man; powder well spent, each and every one of those knights was worth a hundred normal men. Not a single one of them would deny that.

But looking at the sorry stores in the tower, she felt worried. Two-fifths had been passed back up to the orcs and their fortifications there, another fifth all the way up to the elves and what they permitted to be established before the big tree.

Three satchels left. Enough for half a dozen shots from each of her guns. There'd be more in the main storehouses, as many as a hundred brought up from the main force, but...

She'd started the day with eight. And she was down to three.

The faint sound of a horn punched through the ringing in her ears and she turned to look; goddamn meatwagons. "Eyes up, boys!" She shouted to deaf ears, snapping signals at the cannoneers with her free hand. "Spin the tower, we've got artillery to break!"

Each shot had to count, each and every last one. But that didn't mean she was allowed to be stingy. Lives counted on her guns taking down the big threats before they got too close.

-oOoOo-

"Don't wanna die! Don't wanna die!" The human boy mewled and cried as Eitrigg dragged him out of the battlefield, the child's eyes streaming with tears just as his stump of an arm spilled blood onto the ground despite the binding of cloth around it. "Don't wanna die! Mama! Mama!" Finally reaching the edge of the fortifications, Eitrigg threw the boy to the ground.

"Yours." He grunted, passing off responsibility to the tired elven priests who began to work their magic. Now relieved of his burden he reached up, grabbing the shard of frozen steel embedded in his shoulder, and pulled.

Muscles strained and frozen blood ran hotly as he ripped it free. His armour, what tatters of it remained, was stained red with his lifeblood as he examined the trophy with a grin.

"You fought well." Uther said, planting a hand on his shoulder and flooding the wound with his Light. The feeling was... different. Unlike the cleansing waters of the shaman that washed away pain and injury alike, or the burning heat of the warlock who seared wounds shut to fester beneath. "One less monster faces our forces this day."

"And another shall take their place." Eitrigg shrugged to test his shoulder; the Light healed differently but it healed well, and that was all that mattered now. "Did you claim the other?"

Of the two, the mimicry of Gul'Dan's pet monsters was the lesser of his concerns. The floating bones, the frozen chill they brought forth, the ice that set into the bones of his warriors and left them slow and tired... such magic was a weapon that no orc wished to face.

"No." The paladin grimaced, releasing Eitrigg's shoulder and turning back towards the front lines. "The lich escaped to fight another day; something I shall not allow a second time."

As if in answer the air turned cold and they both paused. A moment later a great hail, with stones of ice as large as an orc's arm, crashed down upon the undead that approached. Few of the creatures withstood the onslaught, and those that did soon fell to the volleys of arrows launched by the elves amongst them.

Without a care, the one-armed paladin marched forward into the chaos, intent on claiming his kill. His order, warriors one and all, followed behind him. Though battered and bloodied they did not falter.

Eitrigg couldn't help but grin at his back. "We'll see who gets him first." He laughed, tucking away the shard of the death knight's blade into his belt. "Blackrock! Will you let the humans claim our vengeance for us?!" The lich had killed his brothers in battle, left them easy pickings for the ghouls, and that would not be borne. "Or will you march back into battle with me?!"

A hundred bellowing roars was his answer. Flashes of Light came as the priests worked their magic on his warriors, blessings and wardings to protect them.

Foreign. Different. But good. Their foes had magic, but so did they. "For the Horde!" He shouted, charging after Uther's retreating back and into the now abating blizzard.  They had a cause worth fighting for now. One he could speak of with pride. "Lok'Tar Ogar! Victory or death!"

Should they die this day, they died with honour.

-oOoOo-

"Get out the way!" Ironblast yelled as he dove to the side. Above him, the cannon tower fell still and silent, and on the other side of the wall of splintered ice-frozen ground the undead pressed hard; they weren't going to hold back this push without the guns. Yet, a single moment of examination told him the tower they needed wasn't going to stand for long. "Get ou' the way!" He yelled again at the Gilneans and his marksmen who were taking potshots at the damned wyrm. "Fall back! Tae tower's comin' down!"

His feet felt like slabs of ice stuck in a too-small keg as he stood, numbed and swollen from where the beast's breath had licked at them. Moving hurt, but no more than his head after a good party, and a Thane weren't gonna sit out a fight if he could still bleed.

Hefting his hammer he threw, the work of the Great Forge crackling with the power of the storm as it smashed through the ice and into one of the big winged demons.

Not enough to kill the blighter, but that's what the orcs were for. Was a sight to see them leap on its back and start tearing at the wings when it reeled from his hammer – but that weren't why he threw the bloody thing. "Get back, ye eejits!"

"Forward! Lok'Tar Ogar!" Came the sensible orc's answer, his bastards roaring and bellowing along with him as they took it to the demons.

"Crazy bastards." Ironblast grumbled, catching his hammer as it returned to him. At least they were getting out the way, even if it were further out of his position. Weren't his business if they wanted to die. "Lads! Stop shootin’ at tha' wyrm!" He snapped at the riflemen. "It's just bones! The–"

A crack of thunder, intermixed with the warcries of his half-naked cousins in the Wildhammer Clan, signalled the gryphon's arrival to the fight. A pride of sixteen gryphons intercepted the wyrm before it could make a second pass, a pair baiting and drawing its ire, while their fellows hammered at its wings and tail. A sight for sore eyes, it were; if only they had a hundred more of the madmen.

With a great crack, the tower started to fall, the rushed fortification unable to bear the damage it had sustained. Stone, bodies, and guns fell across what remained of their fort's gate and made even more of a mess of things.

Nothing they could do about that now. "MacGraff's got it." He pointed his hammer at the nearest lieutenant commanding a line, then snapped it towards the tower. "Get to salvaging the powder, we're gonna need it. The rest o' you, shoot at the ones ye can hurt!"

Numb feet plagued his footsteps as he found a new perch from which to oversee the battle. The battlements weren't in good shape no more, more elves in the trees shooting their bows than good guns standing on the walls. Three other towers had been hit too, though he could see picks working at the ice on one and cannons belching flame.

First wyrm the bastards had thrown at them. Might even be the last one they had, couldn't have too many of the damned things. How many dead dragons were there?

Ironblast snorted as the beast finally fell, crashing into the slopes behind the fort. Didn't matter how many there were, just one was too many. Especially when there were less an' less o' them to fight against the damned things.

Fourteen gryphons came back, harried by gargoyles all the way. Of the knights, three had two to a horse and at least six more were just gone. Orcs weren't much better off, a dozen or more missing as they clambered over the rubble to take a breather as the bears took over the front. Priests were exhausted and killing themselves to patch them back together; seeing one collapse while tending to a knight Ironblast ordered they change shifts.

It was hours early, too damn early, but they couldn't afford to lose more of them. Enemy were smart enough to target the flimsy little lads and lassies.

Time wore on, orders were given, and the bleeding and bruised bears came back while the paladins took the front from them. The big druid himself rode up to give out healing to those  that needed it, and finally Ironblast could feel his feet again.

Almost wished he couldn't. Hurt more now, like he was a beardling out taking dares for who could dip his toes in Helm's Bed for the longest. Near lost his damn toes doing that.

Eventually, a thick mist started to roll up the valley, picking up speed as it shrouded the marching hordes in a veil of ice and snow. "Heads up!" He shouted for all to hear. "Break wide, get space and shelter!" They'd seen this twice already, a chill fog then shards of ice meant to blast apart their lines and leave them easy pickings for–

A green shadow barrelled out of the fog, tall as a tower and its footsteps like thunder. As if to prove a point, the demon charged through one of the towers, sending shattered masonry every which way.

Ironblast had barely a moment to react as a chunk of stone twice his size flew towards him. "Khaz Modan!" He roared, feeling the earth beneath his feet and tying himself to it as he called up the oaths he had sworn in the heart of the mountain. "I AM the Mountain!"

Strength flooded his veins as his body turned near to stone, but even so, he was knocked off his feet as the rubble collided with his hammer.

Others, lacking the blessing of the Mountain of Khaz, were not so lucky.

And more still fell as the demon trampled over the line. "Come, mortals! You face Azgalor the Breaker!" He bellowed uproariously, going out of his way to crush Ironblast's riflemen underfoot as he laughed. "Your doom approaches at last!"

Then an arrow struck the demon, exploding with the fury of the stars. "It is not our doom that comes this day, demon." Tyrande spat, nocking another arrow to her bow and loosing it at Azgalor. "Furion, strike now!"

Reeling back twice from her blows, Azgalor spat his fury in a tongue that made Ironblast's ears itch. Vines erupting from the soil and seeking to bind his legs as elementals sought to drown his flames only made his anger grow; Proudmoore and the rest had him.

Ironblast had bigger problems.

Pushing himself to his feet, he helped up a lucky lad who'd dropped low and come out unscathed. "Steady, lad. Fight ain't done yet; pick up yer gun and get to shootin', there'll be more comin' soon."

Half the line was gone, hundreds dead in a single moment. More were shivering as the chill fog washed over them, licking at their wounds and sapping their strength. And out there, in the fog, two towering green flames approached and at their feet followed countless little shadows. "Figures the big demons'd charge ahead like eejits." Ironblast snorted; weren't the orcs sent here by one of those types? Would fit. Fought like they did.

Hammer and axe raised high, Ironblast moved into the breach. "I ain't scared o' a little winter chill. Faced worse back home! Wha' abou' you lot?!" His chest burned from where he'd been struck, probably the ribs. "'Cause if they think were running from 'em they've got another think comin'!"

A pair of bears roared as they formed up beside him, emboldening the line with their presence. Even Ironblast felt the magic they wove into their roars bolstering his muscles.

"For the Alliance!"

"For Gilneas! Faith and steel will prevail!"

"Until the crows come, we ain't gone! Crowley!"

"Fer Khaz Modan!"

Letting out a huff, Ironblast grinned. Good lads and lasses, one and all, and he was glad to have 'em. "You heard 'em, we ain't–" The first towering infernal finally breached the fog, and Ironblast cut short his speech to hammer the thing in the face. "–scared!"

Leaping forward he slammed his axe into the stone of the behemoth, the bears charging forward to engage the second. Ghouls swarmed all around him, but guns pelted them with lead and spears charged.

Green flames sought to sear his flesh but found only unyielding stone, yet blow after blow landed still. Roaring rage fought against the fury of the mountain kings, leaving cracks that would bleed and gush in time, but with the thunder of the cannons joining the fray, the tide began to turn.

One arm shattered under the cannon blows. A moment where stars fell from the sky, crashing down upon all their foes, bled the assault dry.

The first infernal fell as Ironblast cracked its skull, then as the mountain left him at last, he turned to the second. The bears' fur was burnt, their paws rent and bloody, but still they mauled the titan of evil stone and foul flames.

"Time tae die!" He yelled, charging forward to lend his hammer and axe to their efforts.

But before he reached the monster a surge of Light broke through the fog and another hammer struck true, pulsating Light flowing through the evil stone and filling the spiderweb of cracks with magic. The infernal roared in agony and rage before it exploded into pieces.

"Heh." Ironblast sagged in exhaustion as the foe fell, feeling the weight of his wounds pressing down on him. "Wondered where you'd gotten tae, Uther."

"My apologies for being late." The Lightbringer replied evenly. "I was delayed by–"

"You have proven a thorn in the master's side too many times." An icy voice whispered through the cold mist. "Your fate was sealed in Lordaeron, yet still you remain." The mist coalesced into a wave of ice that swept forward, freezing Ironblast's blood in his veins. "Azgalor is a fool. Your death shall ensure our reward."

Falling to the ground, Ironblast saw one of the big winged bastards cackling beside the lich. Green fire laced betwixt its hands, and a new infernal fell down before it.

He should be furious. They fought well, fought hard, an' now...

It were cold.

His eyes slipped shut as a spider loomed over him, chittering and hungry, and he couldn't even raise his hammer.

So cold.

-oOoOo-

The pit lord, doom guard, and lich's combined assault was the first of the major ones they had faced, and upon their hard-fought victory, Jaina had allowed herself to celebrate their triumph alongside so many others. Yet, despite their efforts, despite the death of the demon and lich, the thousands of lives it had cost them in the end, it had meant little.

Azgalor had returned the next day for the morning assault, crowing of how his death meant nothing, for the Legion was eternal. His defeat came swifter the second time, but once again it was not without casualties.

Thane Ironblast had fallen in the first assault, missing and certainly dead during Uther's battle with the lich. Admiral Candren had to be withdrawn after her tower was destroyed by the third frost wyrm. So many of the fortifications had been destroyed that they were more rubble than camp now.

Only her magic, the magic of Malfurion and Tyrande, allowed them to hold on. And she had needed to nurse every last drop lest the final moments of their defence become an unmitigated tragedy.

But still, she was proud. Eight days, they withstood the onslaught of the demons and undead for eight days without faltering. Deserters returned and took up arms alongside their brothers and sisters, orcs fought beside humans and dwarves, elves beside elves and gnomes.

"We made them bleed." She said to herself, watching as the furious rictus of Archimonde approached, his footsteps all but seeming to make the mountains themselves shake. "We made him bleed." This would be the last day of their defence, they could not withstand him. Raising her staff, she called down a blizzard upon the right flank to ease the strain for a moment. "Soldiers of the Alliance! Fall back inside the keep! Immediately!" She ordered, and within moments the air itself changed.

Cannons roared their last, striking against the approaching eredar lord, but doing little more than bruise his skin. Charges would be set within the towers to offer one last hurrah as those within fled.

The elves fell back, melting into the trees and retreating up the mountain. Malfurion lingered a few moments longer – offering a nod of thanks – before he too fled.

Ancient trees that had lent themselves to the defence for so long had uprooted and begun trundling away the moment Archimonde had moved. The Alliance's last moments of defiance here would be enough to allow them to reach safety. Or perhaps they would not... but Jaina had faith.

More than ever, she had faith in their plan.

Cutting her connection to her water elemental Jaina, freed it of its bindings. It lingered, striking against the undead of its own will, hateful of the corruption the demons had brought, but soon faded as the magic tying it to the mortal world dwindled to nothing. The blizzard ended as the last knights of Lordaeron fell back, their numbers so badly depleted that they might never recover.

At last, she tied herself to the array that surrounded the camp. The immense ley lines which ran up the mountain on which they stood. She had saved her people from certain defeat in a time that would never be, and she would do it here.

The prophets had not led them wrong. Things had changed but they were prepared, they had fought long and hard and made the legion bleed.

"Are you ready, Jaina?" Uther asked, even the Light that shone from his eyes not enough to hide the dark signs of exhaustion that lingered beneath them. "We will hold as long as we can if you need more time."

Unable to reply, she just nodded, and the world shook once more under the strain of Archimonde's approach.

"You are very brave to stand against me, little human." Archimonde spoke with a burning fury, an idle hand pushing aside a hollowed-out cannon tower and toppling it. "I must admit, you mages of Dalaran have proven yourselves more of a nuisance than I ever imagined. If only the rest had proven as bold, I would have enjoyed scouring them from this world!"

Knowing his words to be a lie, Jaina smiled cheekily up at the demon lord. "Is talking all you demons do?" She asked, triggering the spell, and tying herself to every living earthly soul and whisking–

"No!" Archimonde snapped, dark flames severing her connection to the ley lines and aborting the spell. "I will not allow your pathetic magics to trick me again! Nor shall I allow another insolent worm to escape me."

Terror leapt into Jaina's throat, her spell gone and their hope of escape with it.

"Silver Hand! Too me!" Uther shouted without a hint of hesitation, leading a hopeless charge at the demon lord's feet. "Buy Lady Proudmoore time!"

The cannon towers exploded, showering the following army of undead with rubble and flames. The mountains trembling at the harm caused. Yet it wasn't going to be enough. They were trapped, and Archimonde wouldn't let them escape. Where had things changed?

What made him notice her spell and stop her?

"I'm sorry." She whispered as a great rumbling ushered in their doom.

"The whole mountain's coming down!" Someone shouted, pointing up at the high slopes to their south. "At least it'll take the demon down with us, keep him here!"

Jaina almost didn't look, clutching at her staff and ready to join the dying paladins as they fought to the last. Then a mournful, tearful, howl ripped through the air and demanded she listen. Sorrow like nothing she had ever felt washed over her – and an unrelenting fury that denied the possibility of surrender. Of giving up. Of losing hope.

Her head raised once more, Jaina found her resolve. "Start moving, get to–"

"That's not the mountain!" Janice, the cowardly witch who'd nearly fled the healing tents, yelled in interruption. "That's a bloody turtle!"

Blinking in confusion, Jaina looked up at the mountain. Spinning with immense speed, hurtling down the slopes and growing larger by the moment, an immense turtle – the size of a small mountain – had all but turned into a blur of a spiked shell. Then, somehow kicking off from the ground, it flew.

"You died ten thousand–!" Archimonde's defiant protest was interrupted by the behemoth creature crashing into him and knocking him aside.

Lifting his head from within his, the Wild God – for what else could he be – looked at them with eyes that belied an age that rivalled the world itself. "Go." He said with one slow blink before turning back to Archimonde.

"Hold firm!" Jaina snapped, reaching once more for the ley lines. The array – it was untouched, undamaged. Archimonde had simply severed her connection to it. If he was free to act he could do so once more... but the great turtle snapped at his limbs, biting deep and drawing blood.

They had been bought time, and she would use it well.

The rumbling avalanche the wild god had unleashed smashed into the walls of the fortification, bowling them over and scattering stone like a hail of bullets, the very moment she finished her spell and they were all enveloped in a nimbus of Arcane magic.

At the top of the mountain, surrounded by stunned elves who were whispering a single word with reverence, Jaina collapsed to her knees.

"Tortolla."