by William King
“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.
—
TELAAR 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.
—
MAIEV 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.”
“Then I can count upon your help in the coming struggle.”
Arechron gave a small shrug. “It is not quite that simple.”
Maiev forced a smile upon her face. “I find that such is nearly always the case in Outland.”
“I have heard of you, Maiev the warden. I have heard of the way you go from town to town and village to village in search of soldiers for your crusade against the one you call the Betrayer. I have heard that some of the younger and more impetuous draenei follow you. I am neither young nor impetuous.”
Maiev was tempted to add nor a fighter, but she clamped her mouth shut and kept her smile in place. She was not back on Azeroth now. She could not simply show up and expect help as she could among her own people. The Broken needed to be convinced to do the right thing. She was used to this reaction from the draenei elders. They were very conservative people and very cautious. The younger ones were braver. That seemed to be the case wherever she went.
“Believe me, I would like to aid you, Maiev. I think that you are r
ight about how powerful Illidan is. I do not wish to draw the attention of such a being to my small town.”
“You are afraid,” Maiev said.
“I am not ashamed to admit it, but not in the way that you think.”
“Fear is fear. If you allow it to rule you, it does not matter what you are afraid of.”
“It is very easy for you, is it not? You ride from place to place, spinning your web of words, and young fighters follow you. You do not have to think of the consequences of your actions. You do not have to think about our young people dying.”
Maiev stared hard at him. “Many of my people have given their lives to end Illidan’s reign of terror. The night elves you see outside, my officers, are what remain of the mighty force that once followed me in pursuit of the Betrayer.”
Arechron steepled his fingers and nodded. “You can fight your guerrilla war and disappear into the wastes to escape the wrath of your foe. I cannot. My people cannot. We have homes here in Telaar. We have children.”
“I wondered why you introduced him into the conversation so early.”
Arechron made a curt gesture with his right hand, then shrugged. “You are a cynical and wrathful night elf, but I think that you are also a righteous one. That is why I will give you whatever aid I can. I will provide you with supplies and weapons. I will allow you to recruit whoever wishes to follow you among our youths, provided only that you leave the town guards out of your efforts at persuasion. We need them here to protect us from our enemies.”
Maiev considered his words. It was obvious that Arechron did not wish to be drawn into open conflict with Illidan. But it was equally obvious that he was no friend to the Betrayer, either. Under the circumstances, that would have to do.
She allowed some real warmth to show in her smile. “I appreciate the risk that you are taking. And I am grateful for any help that you can give me.”
“Let us not misunderstand each other. War is coming. The day approaches when Illidan will turn his attention to Telaar. But that day has not come yet, and I would delay it for as long as possible. What you do, you do on your own.”
He reached down and poured some clear water into goblets. He offered one to her and took one himself. As if he guessed what she would think, he put his to his lips before she could drink hers. Maiev sniffed it and took a small taste on the tip of her tongue. She detected no drugs in it, so she took a sip. Arechron smiled.
“Tell me, since you know Illidan so well, what do you think he is doing in Outland?”
“Fleeing the justice that pursues him from Azeroth.”
“That goes without saying. I meant, specifically, what do you think he plans? Why does he build these mighty armies? Do you think he means to invade your homeworld, as the orcs did not so long ago?”
“I think that is the most likely explanation. Illidan has ever sought glory and conquest. He lusts for such things almost as much as he lusts for forbidden knowledge.”
“It is said that he is a formidable sorcerer.”
“One of the greatest my people ever produced.” It galled Maiev to have to utter such words. She despised the sort of magical power Illidan dealt in.
“That is alarming. You can see the effect magic has had on our world. It shattered Draenor, cost the lives of millions.” Arechron was afraid of the power Illidan’s magic represented. It was a sensible attitude, albeit a cowardly one.
“All the more reason Illidan must be opposed.”
“He has made pacts with the Burning Legion before?”
“Whenever it has suited him.”
“And yet now he appears to make war on the Legion.”
“It appears that way, yes, but who can tell what is really happening here? It may be merely that there is strife within the Burning Legion. Perhaps the Betrayer’s attempt to supplant Magtheridon has made him more enemies than he expected. Perhaps his superiors have decided to punish him. In any case, this dissent represents an opportunity for all who would see him overthrown.”
“Possibly, yes.”
“You do not agree?”
“I mean no insult, but I suspect you would find an opportunity to strike against your enemy under any circumstances.” He paused for a moment. “There are those who might aid you in your quest. They, too, have great magical power.”
Maiev looked at him closely. “I do not seek an alliance with those who use blasphemous sorcery.”
“The naaru serve the Light. They derive their power from it.”
“The naaru?”
“They came to Shattrath City recently. It seems to me that you might make common cause with them. They are no friends to your Illidan.”
“He is not my Illidan.”
“I meant no offense. My tongue is clumsy sometimes.”
“Tell me more of these naaru.”
“They are beings of Light, enormously powerful. They arrived in Shattrath mere months ago, attracted by the rites of worship that the Aldor priesthood performed within a ruined temple there. The naaru protect the city from demons.”
“They hold the Legion at bay, you say?”
“Indeed. They have made Shattrath a sanctuary for those who oppose the demons. They are recruiting those who would fight against the servants of Kil’jaeden. You might do well there. You could become a general in their armies without any doubt.”
It certainly sounded promising. Maiev searched for a hidden purpose behind his words. Was he merely trying to get rid of her by directing her toward this Shattrath? Arechron’s face held its usual expression of benevolence. He was hard to read.
“I do not seek a position of power,” Maiev said. “I seek only to see that the Betrayer gets his well-deserved punishment.”
“Of course, of course. I have once again misread the situation. Nonetheless I would advise you to seek out the naaru. Of all the forces opposing the Burning Legion in Outland, they are immeasurably the strongest.”
Perhaps the Broken was right. She had been wasting her time, wandering these wastelands and recruiting tiny handfuls of fighters. There was nothing to be lost from contacting these new rulers of Shattrath, and perhaps much to be gained.
“Tell me of Shattrath.”
“It was once a beautiful place, and may well become so again.”
That was not the sort of knowledge she had been seeking, but she restrained her impatience. “How may I find it, and whom should I speak to there?”
Arechron smiled as if he had achieved his goal. “It is a long way northeast of here. You must seek the Terrace of Light and speak with A’dal. If you seek a place to stay, I can recommend an inn. A cousin of mine owns it. He will guide you right if you mention my name.”
They spoke of matters concerning the city long into the night.
—
MAIEV WATCHED THE RISING sun. This was a good hour to depart. It was going to be another clear, warm day. Her forces had enjoyed their weeks of rest within Telaar. She had recruited another five score young fighters from among the Broken and the draenei. They were at the edge of her force, mounted on their elekk. The massive quadrupeds dwarfed the riding cats of her own people and exhibited only the slightest nervousness at the presence of the great carnivores.
A crowd as large as the one that greeted them on arrival had gathered to see them off. Many of its members seemed to be there to say goodbye to her new recruits. A few appeared to be attempting to discourage them from leaving. Maiev saw no point in trying to stop that. She did not want anyone with her who could be impelled to desert by the tears of family. Her troops needed to be made of sterner stuff.
Arechron himself appeared, mounted on the howdah of a huge bejeweled elekk.
He bowed to her and said, “Remember, seek out the Aldor. They are the strongest faction in Shattrath besides the naaru, and they are the ones most likely to aid you.”
“I will do that,” Maiev said.
Arechron nodded and said, “And if I were you, I would have nothing further to do with the Ashtongue and their leader
. They are of little account.”
Maiev doubted that. She had met Akama on many occasions since their initial contact, and she knew his power. She still did not trust the Broken, but he had not lied to her yet, as far as she could tell.
Anyndra rode up beside her. Her gaze made it clear she was awaiting the order to depart. Maiev nodded. Anyndra sounded her horn. The nightsabers roared. The elekk trumpeted. The long line of soldiers departed Telaar, leaving the cheering, waving, crying throng behind them.
Maiev wondered what she would really find in Shattrath.
Vandel stood in the great courtyard in the ruins of Karabor along with all the others. Hundreds of supplicants lined the terraces. They had been waiting for weeks for Illidan to return. No one knew where he was. Not even his closest followers understood the Betrayer’s comings and goings.
Vandel felt a growing sense of impatience. There had been long days of training under the guidance of tattooed fighters of the same ilk as Elarisiel and Needle.
Golden-haired Varedis, arrogant and confident as a god, had lectured them on the nature of demons. Of him it was whispered he had infiltrated the Shadow Council and stolen its Book of Fel Names.
Soft-spoken Alandien had laid out the tactics of infiltration. She claimed to have been trained by Illidan himself.
Netharel, the oldest night elf among them, was the one who taught them about weapons. Despite being bowed with age, when he picked up a blade, he moved with the agility of youth.
They had practiced with weapons, sparred with their fellow recruits, and gotten to know one another a little better, but Vandel had made no progress toward his goal.
It sometimes seemed to him that he would have achieved far more in the way of vengeance by simply walking out the gate and attacking any one of the tens of thousands of the Burning Legion’s servants that swarmed through Outland. Of course, that would have led to a swift death, and he would have achieved nothing of any account. The Legion had limitless numbers of such soldiers.
Ravael stood beside him. They had stuck together since the night of Vandel’s arrival. Compared with some of those present, Ravael seemed normal. Over the past few weeks, Vandel had encountered most of the aspirants. All of them had stories to tell, and all of those were tales of horror. The majority of the recruits were blood elves sent by Prince Kael’thas to learn how to fight demons. There were far fewer kaldorei.