Illidan (9 page)

The shout roused many from sleep, but they did not seem disturbed by it. Only one tall blood elf rose from the soiled cloak in which he lay wrapped, and he chased the maniac through the chamber. They disappeared out of sight.

“As you can see, you are not the only one who has found their way here. Many have sought out Lord Illidan. Only a few will live to enter his service.”

“What do you mean?”

Elarisiel's silvery laugh rang out. “You will find out soon enough, kaldorei. Pick out any place and get some rest. You will need your strength for the trials ahead.”

She spun on her heel and departed. Needle raised a finger to his forehead and turned his hand through a half circle, then stepped back into a shadow and seemed to simply vanish.

“Do not pay too much attention to Elarisiel,” said a friendly voice from nearby. “She just likes to scare the new recruits. I suspect someone did the same to her when she first came here, and she likes to spread the misery.”

Vandel inspected the speaker. He had the ageless look of a mature night elf, which meant he could be any age from twenty years to fifteen thousand. As far as Vandel could see, he had no scars or tattoos. When he considered the matter and then looked around, he saw that none of the others in the hall did, either.

The speaker continued. “You are a thoughtful one. And I know what you are thinking…”

The unspoken question hung in the air.

“Vandel is my name.”

“Elune shines on the moment of our meeting, Vandel. I am Ravael.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You were about to tell me what I was thinking. I am curious to know, since I am unsure myself.”

“You are thinking what every newcomer who has ever been led into this hall thinks. That the guides are strange. You are also wondering why none of us have tattoos and all of us have eyes.”

“There are more like that pair, then.”

“Oh yes, my friend. Lots more. Lord Illidan is building an army of the blind.”

“Only they are not blind, are they?”

“No.”

“And they have tattoos like his, only less intricate.”

“Yes.”

“And they are changed in ways he has changed.”

“You are observant.”

“I would have to be blind not to notice these things,” Vandel said before realizing the ridiculousness of that statement.

“You think the blind here see less well than you?” Ravael asked, and just for a moment a note of hysteria sounded in his voice. Vandel was almost glad. Until that moment, Ravael had seemed so normal as to be out of place in this madhouse.

“I think they probably see more. They had no trouble guiding me here, or avoiding anyone in their way. It is possible to memorize routes, but I cannot imagine everyone in this hall occupies the same place the whole time.”

“You have thought things through, it seems.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to take vengeance, to learn to fight demons. The same reason you are here, I am guessing.”

Vandel considered that for a moment. “Perhaps Elarisiel was right. Perhaps I am not so special.”

“I am sure you are. After all, you got here without dying. How common do you think that is?”

Vandel took a deep breath and looked around again. He had assumed that everyone here was mad or an invalid, but he could see now that many of them bore scars, and all of them had weapons close at hand. There were warriors here, and magi, and hunters.

“You lost someone?” Vandel asked.

“I lost everything,” said Ravael. He made no move to expand on that. Thinking of his own loss, Vandel saw no reason to prod him.

“I know what that feels like,” he said.

Ravael looked around. “Somehow, though, in this place, I feel we have even more to lose.”

M
aiev felt almost relaxed. Clefthoof meat filled her belly. The long, sunny day had provided rare sport as she and her followers hunted the beasts. Enough hide lay nearby to make armor for a score of draenei soldiers. A few of them picked through it, sawing away with knives, flensing the skin. It reminded her of her long-gone youth, when she had hunted in the woods with her mother. They had made their own clothes then, cut from leather, sewn with needles of bone, using thread of sinew. The memory brought a brief smile to her face and then the return of horror. Her mother was dead, killed by the Burning Legion. That thought sent her mind circling back once more to Illidan.

The Betrayer was still at large, and his power was growing. The strength of his legions mocked her own efforts. She tried to blank her mind, reclaim her earlier good mood. It had been a long time since she had experienced a moment of unalloyed happiness.

She liked this Nagrand. The air was clean and the sky was blue and the wind was fresh. It was not like the forests of her homeland, but as long as you did not look too closely, it felt natural. Of course, you could still see the effects of the world-splitting magic that had been inflicted on Draenor. Huge islands floated in the sky, hovering on the wind. It seemed as if at any moment, they might crash to the earth—but they did not. According to the locals, they had been stable for years. And even here there were rumors of Illidan's war with his demonic masters. It seemed that the Burning Legion had established bases in the far west of Nagrand, and the demons were preparing some new attack.

Anyndra lay on her stomach near the fire, playing an improvised game of nexus with Sarius, using a hexagonal board slashed into the earth and stones of different colors. The lieutenant saw Maiev looking at her and raised her hand in salute. Her hair was bleached almost lime green by the Outland sun, and her skin was desiccated. Her tunic was patched in a dozen places. Like the rest of the surviving Watchers, she had refused to part with it. It was a connection with their home, and there were few enough of those left.

Sarius remained focused on the game. He was competitive in everything. He had acquired a dozen new scars. Some of them were pale and old, but two were from more recent skirmishes. They had been deep wounds. Druids healed quickly and easily from most injuries. Maybe he had left them as they were as reminders or tributes to his vanity. Males could be like that sometimes. They liked to have scars to flaunt and tell tales about.

The two had proved to be loyal and good soldiers in the years they had roamed through Outland seeking the key to Illidan's destruction. They had kept Maiev's troops alive under very trying circumstances. She cursed when she thought of all the months they had wasted scouting the grounds around Hellfire Citadel, making war with the naga in Zangarmarsh, watching the walls of the Black Temple. It felt as if they had achieved nothing. Illidan's power had increased a thousandfold during that period.

She glanced around her camp. Her force had grown but she could not yet call it an army. It numbered in the hundreds and consisted mainly of disaffected draenei youths recruited on her travels. There were always those who saw the need to oppose evil and the threat Illidan represented. Not enough, though.

What had she really achieved here? Nothing. Over the years, Illidan had grown ever stronger. For every draenei who joined her, a hundred orcs marched into his citadel and emerged transformed into even more brutal, powerful fighters. There were fools out there who believed that he opposed the Legion, and they joined him willingly. They did not know him as well as she did. She knew that he was summoning more and more demons from the Twisting Nether and binding them to his will. There could be no good purpose to that.

Illidan played some deep game here. She could not see the logic of it, but she knew it must be there. There were those who claimed that Kil'jaeden sought his head. Perhaps the demon lord did. It would not be the first time that evildoers had fallen out with each other. Illidan had switched sides before, though, and he would do so again when it suited him. His evil nature would always win out. He had corrupted everything he ever touched. This time would be no different.

A commotion sounded at the edge of the camp. The sentries were challenging someone. Weapons sprang into her troops' hands. Every Watcher stood ready. Maiev moved to investigate. Ogres had been spotted in this area, but she doubted it was them. Fighting would already have erupted. She raced closer and saw a group of unfamiliar Broken, garbed as hunters. They exchanged words with one of the sentries. They did not look hostile. But it might be a trick.

Maiev circled behind them, scouting the area. There were no signs of any enemy infiltration. No Broken hid in the shadows. In the distance she heard the growl of a nightsaber. A wind elemental roared across the evening sky.

She stepped out of the shadows. The strangers' leader flinched at her sudden appearance, but he recovered his composure.

“Greetings,” he said.

“What is going on here?” Maiev said.

“We could ask you the same thing. You are on Kurenai land, eating Kurenai beasts. It seems to me that we should be asking the questions.” Maiev had heard of the Kurenai; they were another faction of Broken, one that owed no allegiance to Akama and his Ashtongue tribe.

“I saw no brand on these clefthoof; there were no herders, either.”

“These are our hunting grounds. We have not given you guest rights.”

Maiev considered this. With calculated insolence she ran her eyes over the newcomers, making it clear she was counting their numbers. She then looked at her own force. The strangers were outnumbered by twenty to one.

The Broken laughed. “You have an army. The people of Telaar also have an army if things come to that. Our army is bigger than yours.”

“But it is not here,” said Maiev. Anyndra emerged from the gathering gloom. A shriek told her that Sarius was watching from on high, changed into the shape of a bird.

“It could be. If I sounded this horn.”

“I could put an arrow through your eye before it reached your lips,” Anyndra said. Maiev glared at her. Now was not the time for displays of archery prowess. There was nothing to be gained by picking a fight with these Broken.

“We meant to give no offense,” Maiev said. “We are strangers passing through this land, and we sought only food and shelter.”

“You should have come to Telaar. Our people would have provided you with both, and perhaps other things beside.” The Broken looked at her camp again. “So many young draenei led by so few strangers. There is a story here that Arechron would like to hear.”

Maiev perked up at that. Perhaps there were allies to be gained—maybe even an entire army. “I am sure we have much to tell each other. If it suits you, I will guide my people to your city and have words with your Arechron.”

“I will leave some of my people to be your guides as I go ahead to give notice of your coming.”

Maiev hoped he was not merely heading off to prepare a trap.

T
ELAAR WAS AN IMPRESSIVELY
fortified place. Situated on top of a flat mountain peak that rose above a deep valley, it had no need of walls. The only approaches were over rope bridges or from the air. Unless they used magic or flyers, any foe would find it a difficult place to besiege.

The rope bridge swayed beneath the paws of Maiev's nightsaber. The great cat stalked on, but she could sense its pulse increase as it looked down. Through the slats of the bridge, Maiev could see the ground a long way below. If the Broken wanted to kill her people, all they would have to do was cut the ropes supporting the bridge. Of course, that would mean killing the Broken and draenei with them. Maiev had known enough leaders willing to sacrifice their own people to achieve their ends that she did not discount the possibility.

A crowd lined the edges of the town, trying to get a glimpse of the approaching force. They did not push or shove one another, but they did not have the lassitude she had come to associate with the Broken, either. They appeared to be armed and no doubt would fight if they had to.

It was with a sense of relief that Maiev rode off from the bridge. She paused to look over her shoulder and check on her people. She was happy to see that they were still there. Apparently Arechron planned no treachery. Not yet, anyway.

In the middle of the crowd, surrounded by spear-bearers, stood a particularly huge Broken of noble aspect. He was garbed in impressive armor of orange and purple. Four long tendrils descended from his face. His tail swished as he moved.

“
Achal hecta,
and welcome to Telaar,” he said. “I am Arechron and I would give you welcome in my house.”

Maiev said, “I thank you for your hospitality and look forward to speaking with you.”

They rode along the mosaic-patterned road, through the open spaces of Telaar. Around them rose the odd, domed buildings so typical of draenei architecture.

Maiev studied it all with the eye of a veteran fighter. She noted the areas where ambushes might be sprung or archers could be placed. Every moment, she half expected to be attacked. She had spent so long in the field these past few years that every town felt like a trap, and every citizen a potential enemy. The knowledge saddened her, but she did not relax her vigilance.

M
AIEV GLANCED ACROSS THE
low table, studying Arechron. The Broken had an open, honest face and a welcoming manner, but she had long ago learned that such things could be deceptive. She was determined not to let down her guard even for a moment, although she gave no sign of her suspicions.

The chamber walls curved. Thick carpets lay strewn on the floor. A Broken boy pulled aside a beaded curtain and stared in, quite clearly fascinated by the newcomer. Maiev met his gaze.

“Corki,” said Arechron, “go to sleep. It is past your bedtime and I have business to discuss with our new friend.”

“Yes, Father,” said Corki. He made no move to go.

“Corki!”

“Yes, Father?”

“Do as you are told, or there will be consequences.”

“Yes, Father.” The child's hooves clopped on the stone floor as he skipped away.

“He is a good boy, but I indulge him too much,” Arechron said.

Maiev agreed, but it did not seem politic to say so. “You are his father.”

“I worry about him sometimes,” Arechron said.

Maiev saw her opportunity. “As a parent, you have a lot to worry about. We live in dark times, and they are getting darker.”

Arechron nodded his head. “You speak the truth, but the Light will preserve us. It always has, and it always will.”

“I wish I shared your faith,” Maiev said.

Before she could say anything further, the Broken interrupted her. “Faith in the Light is open to all. All you need do is believe.”

Maiev saw a quagmire of theological debate yawning before her. “Oh, I am sure that the Light watches over us. I am not so sure that it can protect us for very much longer. The Betrayer seeks dominion over Outland. Already he has recruited tens of thousands of fel orcs and other monstrous beings. I have seen the naga working on great magical engines amid the waters of Coilfang Reservoir. I cannot believe that they are up to anything good. I know their leader, Lady Vashj. Believe me, she is wicked.”

Maiev let her sense of urgency show in her voice. It was a speech she had given many times before, and it had succeeded in convincing the draenei youths who had joined her force. But Arechron was not a youth. He was an experienced leader, albeit with a sentimental weakness for his son. That was her best line of attack. “If you wish your child to have a safe future, you must do something soon, before Illidan the Betrayer has overwhelming forces at his disposal.”

Arechron raised both hands in her direction, palms out. He gave her a good-humored smile and said, “You do not need to convince me of the threat that Illidan poses.”