Illidan

10

Guards in glittering chest plates, mounted on armored elekk, watched Maiev approach impassively. Their tabards bore the sign of the naaru. She guessed they had looked upon far more imposing armies than her own. Shattrath was far and away the largest city she had seen in Outland, a rival in size for any of the great metropolises of Azeroth. The walls were so huge and thick, a procession of clefthoof-drawn wagons could have marched along behind the battlements and Maiev would not have known. A huge tower jutted skyward, visible even over the monumental ramparts. Above the city a range of mountains shielded the northern approaches.

A massive flying beast passed overhead and descended beyond the fortifications. She needed some of those huge sky-dwelling rays. Mounted on those, her troops could strike swiftly and be gone before their enemies responded.

She dismissed the thought. If she could get such mounts, so could her foes. The battle would just move to a new arena. At least on the ground, her troops could hide beneath the eaves of the forest. It was something the night elves were suited to and the draenei and the Broken were learning.

Not that these woods were much like home. Like so much else in Outland, they were alien. Huge moths fluttered loathsomely through the trees. Many of them were tainted by fel magic. The more she saw of this world, the more she realized it was saturated with evil mystical energies. Perhaps it had something to do with the presence of the Burning Legion. She was certain of one thing: Outland was the perfect place for Illidan. It had everything he craved. He was at home here in a way a natural elf would never be.

She stopped her teeth from grinding when she saw Anyndra looking at her. She smoothed the frown from her brow and gave the signal to advance upon the gate. If the draenei sentries were daunted by their approach, they gave no sign. They waited until the last moment to drop their lances across the entrance. It was a flimsy barrier. Her nightsaber could have jumped it, but that was not the point.

“State your business in the city of Shattrath,” said the sentry on the right. He was the senior of the two.

“I have come seeking an audience with A’dal.”

The draenei’s face remained impassive. “And your retinue also?”

“Yes.”

She guessed that the fact that so many of her troops were draenei worked in her favor. Or perhaps the guards were really just used to the sight of refugees. Her fighters were ragged from hard riding and hard fighting. Perhaps the sentries were just glad to see more troops enter the city.

The guards raised their lances. Pennons fluttered once more in the wind. Maiev rode through the huge stone arch. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the city, she gasped. There was power here, ancient and benevolent. It was woven into the stones, transforming them into more than just a physical barrier against the minions of the Burning Legion. She sensed the pulse of vast energies from within the huge central tower that loomed over the city.

“We are in the presence of the Light,” Anyndra said. Whatever it was, she sensed it, too.

“Let us hope so,” Maiev said. “Let us pray it is not some great deceit.”

Too often evil wore the mask of benevolence. Wickedness cloaked itself in sanctity. It was easy to manipulate the gullible by such means. She considered that possibility long and hard. There had been times recently when she had thought that she would accept aid from Kil’jaeden himself if it meant the end of Illidan.

She decided that even if these naaru were less benevolent than they seemed, it did not matter. If they would help her against the Betrayer, she was prepared to make a pact with them.

They rode through the wide streets of Shattrath. Her draenei recruits pointed out the sights to one another and their night elf leaders. All of them had heard a great deal about the city even if they had never been here before. Maiev supposed that it was to the draenei of Outland what Darnassus was to her own people.

It was impressive enough in its own way, although it was a place of stone rather than living wood. Like so many of the draenei refugees it held, the city had a smashed look to it. She felt as if she was looking upon the patched ruins of a once mighty metropolis. The people around her fit their location. Many were ragged and hungry looking. Several approached her with hands outstretched. A few were children. She had nothing to give such beggars even if she wanted to. It was hard enough to keep her own troops fed and clothed, and every coin was needed to fund their war.

There were people from all over Outland. Broken huddled in lean-tos by the side of the road. There were orcs here, which surprised her. She was not sure why. She was so used to fighting them, her hand itched to draw her blade. That urge was as nothing to the anger she felt when she saw a blood elf staring at her. She was not the only one who noticed.

“Blood elves,” Anyndra said with a scowl. She felt the same loathing of these twisted elves as Maiev did. They had lost their fount of arcane magic when Arthas defiled the Sunwell and used its energies to reanimate the lich Kel’Thuzad. Now they craved arcane power with an unappeasable lust.

The blood elf’s lips bent into an arrogant sneer, but he could not meet their gazes just the same.

“We should pity them,” Sarius said. He walked along beside them in his night elf form. “Their lives are twisted by their unnatural craving for magical power.”

“I do not think I could live if I became what they are,” Anyndra said.

Sarius’s smile was complex. “They were our kin once. Perhaps they could be again. They might be redeemed.”

Maiev stared at him. She should have expected as much. Sarius was a druid. They had strange ideas.

“I do not think they want to be redeemed,” Anyndra said. “I think they enjoy being what they are.”

“How would you know?” Sarius asked. “Have you talked to any of them?”

“No. I was too busy trying to stop them from killing me,” said Anyndra. Her tone was soft, and she smiled at the druid. “As you should remember.”

“I certainly healed the wounds.” Sarius was smiling as well. There was a definite fondness between the pair. As long as it did not interfere with the performance of their duties, Maiev did not mind.

As she rode she noticed that more than one set of sin’dorei eyes tracked them. There was no love in those gazes. She wondered if the blood elves were spies for Kael’thas and, through him, for Illidan.

The sign of The Crystal Goblet hung over the street. The sound of music and revelry came from within. Maiev led her troops to the courtyard, and Broken stable hands rushed out to greet them. They seemed confident enough with the elekk, but none of them wanted anything to do with the nightsabers.

A massive Broken emerged from the building. His eyes went wide when he saw the number of riders. She could almost see him counting the profits.

“Blessings of the Light be upon you,” he said. His horned head bowed. The long tendrils around his mouth drooped. He placed his hands together, fingers interlocked. “Welcome to the Crystal Goblet. You will find all to your satisfaction here.”

“I hope so,” Maiev said. “Arechron spoke very highly of Alexius and his hospitality.”

The Broken’s smile widened. “You have spoken to my cousin. You are thrice welcome. You will be wanting accommodations for your retinue?”

“Only for myself, my officers, and a dozen or so bodyguards. The rest of my force will be encamped beyond the city walls.”

Alexius gave a small grimace of disappointment, then turned and bellowed instructions in Draenei. A small army of servants scurried off to prepare the best rooms in the house. “I would be honored if you would join me in my private rooms,” he said. “I am sure there is much we must speak of.”

Maiev thought she detected a note of urgency in his voice. Perhaps Arechron had already made contact. Messengers flew between Telaar and Shattrath on a regular basis.

“Indeed, I am grateful for your hospitality.”

Alexius’s chambers were luxurious, furnished with rugs and mirrors and racks and racks of wine bottles. He carefully selected one, blew dust off it, and showed it to Maiev, as if it meant something. She had no idea about the differences between draenei vintages, and she cared even less.

“This was a very fine year,” Alexius said. “A century before our world was broken, this bottle was laid down. When you taste this, you will be getting a taste of the old Draenor.”

She forced herself to smile as if she was interested and waited for him to uncork the bottle and pour. He sat there for long moments with the full glass under his lips, sniffing it with his eyes shut and a look of profound satisfaction on his face. “The scent always makes me think of my childhood.”

“You drank wine as a child?”

“Sometimes with meals. But mostly it is just the scent. It makes me think of my father and mother sitting down to break bread with their kin.”

“This was before your world was shattered?”

He nodded and his glowing eyes snapped open. “Yes. I am older than I look,” he said, smiling to show that he knew how old he really looked.

“It must have been a terrible time,” Maiev said. She had found that the more she reminded the draenei and the Broken of their suffering, the more likely they were to aid her against those they blamed for it.

“A world shattered?” His tone told her that he thought her words a gross understatement. “Terrible hardly begins to describe it. We thought the world was ending. The sky burned. The continents ripped apart. Lava flowed. Wild magic danced from mountain peak to mountain peak. Sometimes the tips of mountains rose into the air and floated away. Sometimes they crashed down and killed thousands.”

“I have seen such things in Nagrand.”

“That is like comparing a pebble to a boulder, I am afraid.”

“You have been to Nagrand?”

He nodded. “Business sometimes takes me to Telaar. And family responsibilities.”

His smile widened and he placed his hands, palms up, on the table. “But you have not come here to listen to the meanderings of an old innkeeper. Arechron’s letters have told me something about your quest. You seek the undoing of this new lord of Outland, this Illidan.”

He kept his voice low, as if even on his own property, he feared being overheard. If he thought it wise, Maiev decided that it was worth doing the same. “Yes.”

“You have a very small army for such a large undertaking.”

“Are you an expert in such things?”

“I was not always a fat old innkeeper. I have fought. But I have never set myself against such a mighty enemy as you have.”

“I have bested him before.”

“Yet he is free now and he has grown mighty. His agents lurk everywhere, in secret. There are always those who will tell tales for gold. I would be careful of to whom I spoke if I were you, and even more careful what I spoke of.”

“I will bear that in mind. I was told there are those here who might aid me. The naaru, for example.”

“They might, although I fear they have worries of their own.”

“Still, it would not hurt to ask.”

“That is so. She who does not ask, does not get, as they say.” The Broken did not sound particularly hopeful about the success of her mission, but perhaps that was just his manner. “The Born from Light might help one they deem worthy.”

“Born from Light?”

“The Sha’tar. That is what their name means. They are the naaru who were drawn to the ruins of Shattrath when they sensed the Aldor priests performing rites inside the rubble of one of their temples.”

“Arechron mentioned the Aldor.”

“As well he might. They are the servants of the naaru and of the Light. They are recruiting all they can find to oppose the Burning Legion. They would be grateful for any aid you could give them.”

“I have no doubt that theirs is a worthy goal, but I feel I can best serve the Light by overcoming Illidan. He is the greatest champion the Burning Legion has in Outland.”

“Is it not strange, then, that he seems to be at war with them?”

“It may be a deception. Or it may be a temporary disagreement. He has fallen out with his demonic overlords before, only to worm his way back into their favor.”

“You know a great deal about it.”

“I was his jailor for ten thousand years.”

“He must hate you.”

“And fear me, too, I hope.”

“I do not doubt it,” Alexius said.

“Can you arrange for me to see the naaru?”

“You can walk in and talk with them in the Terrace of Light. They will know you are here by now, and they will sense the power within you and give you a hearing.”

“Is it that simple?”

“For you it will be, of that I have no doubt. Your war against the new lord of Outland has not gone unremarked.”

“You said he has agents here. Would they be blood elves?”

“Perhaps, but I would not be too quick to rush to judgment if I were you. The sin’dorei here are sworn to protect the city. The Scryers look most unfavorably on those who aid your Betrayer. They betrayed him themselves.”

“Did they?”

“They were sent by Prince Kael’thas to lay waste to our city. A mighty force they were, the best and brightest of Kael’thas’s army, mighty magi and scholars. The Aldor braced themselves for defense, but the blood elves laid down their arms and asked for an audience with the naaru. It seems their leader, Voren’thal, had a vision. Only by serving the naaru would his people survive.”

“It might well have been a trick.”

“So many thought, but the naaru spoke with this Voren’thal and accepted his fealty. He and his people have served the city ever since.”

“A deception.”

“The naaru can see deep into the minds of those with whom they converse, and they are not easily deceived.”

“If any could do so, it would no doubt be Kael’thas. He is wily.”

“You speak with some bitterness.”

“I, too, once regarded him as an ally.”

“That is troubling. Nonetheless, the blood elves of the Scryer’s Tier would be the next faction I would suggest you seek aid from.”

Maiev felt her face redden. “I would rather seek aid from fel orcs.”

The Broken’s hand went to his mouth, and he stroked his drooping tendrils. “The enemy of my enemy…”

“You are not the first to suggest such a thing to me. But an alliance with the sin’dorei is a step too far.”

“That is a pity, for the Scryers are mighty sorcerers…”

Maiev’s fists clenched. The Broken realized his mistake. “I shall speak no more on the subject.”

“Perhaps that would be wise.” Maiev felt a brief sting of regret. She had nothing to gain by alienating the innkeeper. “I appreciate the aid you have given me. I am a stranger here, and a friendly guide is without price.”

“We are all strangers in this world, Maiev Shadowsong. We must help one another.”

“Is there anyone else who might help me?”

“There is Khadgar the archmage, a trusted ally of the naaru. I believe he is from your homeworld.”

“Tell me of him.”

“Tales swirl around this one, and it is difficult to get at the truth. He is a human. A few of them have found their way to Shattrath. Some say he is a hero who sacrificed himself to close the Dark Portal between Azeroth and Draenor. Others claim he was an apprentice of Medivh, the Guardian who was possessed by Sargeras.”

“That hardly seems like a recommendation to trust him.”

“The Sha’tar do.”

“I fear I cannot.”

“Then it is probably just as well that he is no longer in the city. The naaru have dispatched him to the Netherstorm—or so I have heard. To investigate some strange appearances there.”

“You are uncommonly well informed, Alexius.”

“I am an innkeeper. We hear things, particularly when we keep our ears to the ground.”

“I am glad that you have done so. Of course, I would be displeased to discover that you had been talking about my business with anyone else.”

Alexius looked wounded. “You were sent here by my cousin. It would be a betrayal of all the laws of kinship and hospitality for me to do so.”

“Of course. I just wanted to make sure we understood each other.”

“Now you sound like my cousin. I can see why he liked you.”

So this is the Terrace of Light, Maiev thought. It was impressive in its odd way. The air shimmered. Crystalline notes sounded. Huge glowing blue crystals descended from the roof of the vast circular chamber. The scent of incense twitched her nostrils. At the center, over a massive stone dais, hovered a glowing entity of enormous power. The naaru. Its shape shifted constantly from one geometric form to another, but it returned most often to an outline that resembled that of a star.

Hundreds of petitioners came and went, along with priestly servants who no doubt belonged to the Aldor. Robed blood elves, wearing the tabard of the Scryers, stared at her. They did not look hostile, but they did not look friendly, either. They seemed to be wondering what she was going to do.

She made her way through the crowd, studying her surroundings. Above her the giant domed roof of the terrace echoed back the sounds of prayers and petitions.

It was some time before she confronted the naaru. She was grateful. It gave her a chance to become accustomed to its awesome presence. A’dal shimmered like a chained sun. Unleashed, the naaru’s power might destroy cities or level mountains. The full blast of its attention focused on her when she stepped forward to greet it. It was all she could do to prevent herself from kneeling. She kept her head high and glanced straight into its light. Maiev felt as if the naaru was able to read her the way she might read an unfurled scroll. There was something about this being that made her feel like little more than a child.

“Greetings, Warden Shadowsong,” A’dal said. The naaru radiated serenity. Its calm, pleasant voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Perhaps it was speaking inside her mind. “I am A’dal.”

“Elune shines on the moment of our meeting,” Maiev said.

A’dal said, “How can I aid you?”

“You know who I am?”

“Yes.”

“You know what I do?”

“Yes.”

“I have come to Outland in search of Illidan. I mean to return him to his place of incarceration.”

“An ambitious goal. Illidan styles himself the lord of Outland now. He has the power to make good on that claim. Who are you to oppose him?”

“One who held him bound for ten times a thousand years.”

“A blink in the eye of eternity.”

Maiev’s smile was rueful. “It seemed long enough to me.”

“As you mortals measure time, it was, no doubt.”

“But not as the naaru do?”

“We see these things differently from you. We have no bodies to age. We are beings of Light.”

“Then you know Illidan must be opposed.”

“It is a task you seem admirably suited to.”

“It is the work of my life.”

“I can see that, and it makes me regret all the more that we have no aid to give you at this time.”

“What?” The word burst from her lips before she could stop it.

“Alas, we, too, have a mission in this place. We oppose the Burning Legion. This is a task that takes all our resources.”

“But Illidan serves the Legion. Opposing him can only aid you.”

“At this moment Illidan opposes the Legion. He is its enemy. We take advantage of this to gather our strength.”

“At this moment he opposes the demons. While it suits him. When it no longer does so, he will crawl back to his masters on his belly, as he always has.”

“Your hatred blinds you.”

“It is not hatred. I seek justice for those he has killed, for those he has betrayed, for those he will murder. You cannot tell me that you believe that Illidan is any better than the Burning Legion.”

“You have no concept of the true nature of the Burning Legion, Warden Shadowsong.”

“And you do?”

“We have opposed it for a thousand times your lifetime. We shall oppose it until the end of all that is.”

“I need more than fine words if I am to bring Illidan to justice.”

“Unfortunately, words are all I have for you now. You must find your own path. You are not without allies here, even if you cannot see that. You can find more if you make the attempt. The chief magister of the Scryers waits to speak with you.”

“A blood elf?”

“One of your people.”

“The blood elves are not my people. They turned their back on my people long ago. We have nothing in common.”

“Save perhaps an enemy.”

“I will have nothing to do with those heretics.”

“That would be your choice.”

Maiev reined in her fury. She bowed and turned on her heel without waiting for A’dal to terminate the audience. She heard gasps from nearby blood elves, which gave her some satisfaction. A tall blood elf in the tabard of a Scryer moved toward her. He was most likely the one A’dal had mentioned. She swept by him without giving him the opportunity to speak.

It seemed that she still had some principles. There were those with whom she would not consider a pact. Even to bring down the Betrayer.