He was beginning to wonder if nobody else would show, when the air around them became suddenly tense. A strange breeze drifted down toward them, growing in intensity until Aram’s new, shorter hair was blown back off his forehead and Murky had to grab his net to keep it from blowing away. A blue shape darted down toward them, then hovered, the dirt around them spinning as Telagos arrived, his wings beating the air before he landed, shaking the ground.
“What an entrance,” Aram called, watching as Galena tumbled from the dragon’s back.
“Oof!” she cried out. “Sorry. Still bad at landing that way.”
Telagos shrank, wings distorting into arms and blue skin bleeding away as he resumed his human form, dusting his shoulders lightly. “I think it’s an elegant way to travel.”
“I’m glad you made it!” Before Aram could say anything else, Galena had been mobbed by Murky, and Hackle greeted them both warmly. Aram hadn’t spent much time at all with Telagos, but he shook the young man’s hand, feeling as if the dragon could see through him with those intense pale eyes.
Now they just needed Makasa. The afternoon flew by, everyone absolutely brimming with stories and news. Galena had redeemed herself with the Cenarion Circle for her part in the battle against the Hidden, and they were incredibly impressed that she had convinced a blue dragon to meet with them in the Moonglade. Telagos spent his days studying the druids just as intently as they studied him.
“I never thought I’d live that one down,” Galena finished with a laugh. She noticed Aram staring off into the setting sun. “I wonder where Makasa could be?”
“Maybe she’s not coming,” Aram said. “Let’s give her a little while longer.”
Murky was in the middle of describing their voyage to the tree meeting place, and the trouble they had gotten into with some quilboar, when Galena interrupted him, bouncing up and down excitedly, pointing toward the east.
“Look!” she cried. “They’re here!”
Makasa had indeed shown, and so had Valdread, his dark leather coat and trousers changed out for a fashionable sailor’s coat and accoutrements of deep purple. He still wore a hood, likely to conceal himself from the Alliance soldiers standing watch above them on the cliff. Makasa wore a similar outfit, though hers included a purple vest, a weathered black captain’s hat sitting jauntily on her head.
“You’re late!” Aram teased.
“Only fashionably,” Valdread drawled. The undead had doused himself in perfume for the occasion, and he was wearing his shiniest black boots.
“What took you so long?” Aram asked as he and Makasa hugged tightly. She clapped him on the back, then pulled away and nodded back the way they had come.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said. “That’s why. What did you do to your hair?”
“What did you do to your nose?” he countered. A little gold hoop glimmered around one nostril.
“Hackle like!” the gnoll bayed. “Very popular with lady gnoll.”
“Well, the lady gnolls couldn’t be wrong, could they?” Makasa winked, then let Murky wrap himself around her leg for a good five minutes while he sobbed uncontrollably, screaming, “Mrksa! Mrksa!” until the Alliance soldiers called down to them, asking if all was well.
“So what’s your big surprise?” Aram asked.
“Later,” she said. “Let’s pay our respects, first.”
And so they did, standing quietly in a semicircle in front of the tree. Even Valdread seemed moved, standing with his head bowed and his hands tucked in front of his belt.
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, bathing them in cool shadows, Aram cleared his throat, then lifted his head, singing as best he could, trying to do justice to Drella’s lullaby.
There I was
In the wood
With sunshine so bright.
His voice shook. He wasn’t a strong singer, but it was important to him that he do what he could to tell Drella that they were there and that they hadn’t forgotten her. He inhaled deeply, singing the next verse, surprised that his friends joined in with him. Telagos sang beautifully, in a voice that made the hairs on Aram’s arms stand up. Murky was … Murky, and he gave it his all. Makasa had spent most of her life singing shanties, and didn’t miss a beat, confident and loud, hitting the notes with a sailor’s spirit.
There I was,
Not alone but alive.
There I walked in my grove
With hope and pride.
There I shall stay
When I fear the rising tide.
Aram sank down, running his hands over the damp earth at the base of the tree, then took something from his pocket. A shard from the Diamond Blade. It was the shard he had been tasked with protecting, and he knew exactly where it belonged. He dug down into the earth with his hands, then nestled the shard in the space, covering it up with a few pats. Before he could stand again, the tree shifted, creaking, the roots reaching up through the ground, twining around where he had buried the shard and then descending again, no doubt bringing it deeply, safely into the very heart of the tree.
“We’ll be back again next year,” Aram whispered. “I promise.”
“We should celebrate our reunion,” Valdread suggested, already taking a flask from his pack. “Perhaps now is the time to reveal your secret, Makasa.”
“Oh! Sure!” She smiled, devilish. “Come on, it’s not far.”
Aram groaned.
“What?” she cried. “We’ve certainly gone farther!”
They marched after Makasa and Valdread, listening to father and daughter recall what they had done in the year since the battle in Outland. Aram couldn’t believe how easy they seemed with each other, but he was happy for Makasa. After the loss of her brothers, it must have felt good to gain more family in her life. Though it was a strange sight, seeing them laugh and banter together, but he would get used to it. Eventually.
By the time they reached the shore south of the Charred Vale, it was full night. Galena lit one of her glowing white orbs of moonlight for them, and Aram did the same. He had been practicing his druidic magic each night. (His orb didn’t glow quite as brightly as hers, but it was a start.) Telagos helped to ferry them some of the way after Murky complained of sore feet.
“There!” Makasa said. The salt air hit them, the sound of the waves carrying on the breeze. “What do you think? Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Oh my!” Galena gasped, covering her mouth with both furred hands. “Is that yours?”
Makasa snorted. “Of course it’s mine.” Then she sidled up to Aram, draping an arm across his shoulders. “So? You in? We’ve got space enough for everyone. But if you’d rather go back to Lakeshire …”
“No!” He could hardly believe his eyes. The ship was beautiful, new and polished, a fast, angular vessel with gold and green sails snapping in the wind. He couldn’t wait to draw it. “I’m definitely in!”
The figurehead at the front was carved masterfully, into the perfect likeness of Drella, her arms embracing the sea, her face friendly but coy. He could almost hear her bell-like voice singing, “Hi, friends!”
Crew stirred on the deck, noticing the light of their orbs on the sand. A dinghy bobbed not far into the water, waiting for them to take it across to the ship. Makasa started down toward it, the others following, Murky expressing his desire to be first mate.
“Got one already,” Makasa said with a chuckle, pointing her thumb at Valdread. “Watch out—he’ll fill your boots with tar and pour salt in your gruel. It’s a bit out of hand, really.”
“One has to find amusement somewhere on the open seas,” the Forsaken replied. “I’m only keeping the crew on their toes. Where they belong.”
Aram drank in the ship for one last moment, wanting to see it in all its glory before he boarded the dinghy, where Hackle, Murky, and the others waited. Makasa stood next to him still, no doubt enjoying his awe. She had done well, and she knew it, and Aram felt nothing but pride for his sister, and excitement at all the adve
ntures they had yet to come.
“What did you name it?” he asked.
“The Dryad,” Makasa told him. “Like it?”
Aram nodded, grinning across at her. He was so glad to see her again. It felt like being home.
It was right where he wanted to be. Where they both belonged.
I would first like to thank Kate McKean for the opportunity to work on this tremendous series and other dream projects. The teams at Scholastic and Blizzard have been wonderfully patient and nurturing, and it’s been such an honor to work with these two talented groups of people. It’s been inspirational to see their passion for Azeroth and publishing. Chloe Fraboni—thank you for your patience, sense of humor, understanding, and creativity; it’s been a joy to work with you on this novel. A huge thanks to Cate Gary and the editorial and continuity teams at Blizzard; I’ve had a blast playing in your vast and exciting sandbox.
I would also like to acknowledge Greg Weisman, Samwise Didier, and Stephane Belin for laying the groundwork for this wonderful series.
And finally, a huge thanks to Diandra, Karen, my boys, and my friends and family. An author is only as good as the network that surrounds and supports them.
Madeleine Roux is the New York Times bestselling author of the Asylum series, which has sold over a million copies worldwide, and whose first book was named a Teen Indie Next List Pick. She is also the author of the House of Furies series, Allison Hewitt Is Trapped, Sadie Walker Is Stranded, and Salvaged. Her short story contributions can be found in collections such as Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View, Resist, and New Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. Madeleine is a thirteen-year World of Warcraft veteran and a noncombat pet enthusiast, and she was briefly known as the Slayer of Incompetent, Stupid, and Disappointing Minions. She spends all her DKP on treats for her beloved Core Hound in Seattle, Washington.
© 2020 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. Traveler is a trademark, and World of Warcraft and Blizzard Entertainment are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc., in the U.S. and/or other countries.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First printing 2020
Cover illustration by Vivienne To
Interior illustrations by Brandon Dorman
Cover design by Heather Daugherty
e-ISBN 978-1-338-56653-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
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