Richard Knaak - The Sundering

“It is your brother who coordinated all,” the mage explained. “It is Jarod who may have saved the host.”

“Jarod?” Maiev’s tone indicated some disbelief, but when Krasus nodded, she buried that disbelief and tipped her head to the captain. “A simple officer of the city guard playing commander! Fortune was with you this time, brother.”

He simply nodded, his eyes cast to the side.

Rhonin, however, did not let Maiev’s slight pass. “Fortune? Good, common sense, is what it was!”

The priestess shrugged off the incident. “Little brother, you were introducing us…”

“Forgive me! Maiev, the elder mage is Krasus. To his side is the wizard, Rhonin — ”

“Such illustrious visitors are welcome in this time,” she interrupted. “May the blessing of Elune be upon you.”

“And this,” the captain continued, “is Malfurion Stormrage, the — ”

Maiev’s eyes burned into the druid’s. “Yes…you were known to one of our sisters, Tyrande Whisperwind.”

Considering that Tyrande had become high priestess, albeit for only a short period before her kidnapping, the remark was not one Malfurion found respectful. “Yes, we grew up together.”

“We mourn our loss. I fear her inexperience betrayed her. It would’ve been better for her if her predecessor had chosen one more… seasoned.” There was a subtle implication that Maiev referred to herself.

Biting back his anger, Malfurion said, “There was no fault by her. The battle had spread everywhere. She came to my defense, but was injured. Unconscious. During the chaos that followed, servants of the demons took her.” He met the other priestess’s steely gaze. “And we will get her back.”

Jarod’s sister nodded. “I will pray to Elune that it is so.” She looked to the captain. “I’m glad you weren’t injured too badly, little brother. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must attend to the other sisters. Marinda’s loss means we must quickly decide on a new leader. She had not yet chosen one herself.” With a bow that extended mostly to Krasus, Maiev ended, “Again, may the blessings of Elune be upon you.”

When she was far away, Rhonin grunted and said, “A cheerful, friendly sort, your sister.”

“She’s very dedicated to the traditional teachings of Elune,” Jarod responded defensively. “She’s always been very serious.”

“One cannot fault her for her dedication,” Krasus remarked. “Providing it does not blind her to the paths taken by others.”

Jarod was saved from further defense of Maiev by Brox’s return. The orc had a satisfied grin on his wide face.

“Good battle! Many deaths to sing of! Many warriors to praise for the blood they’ve spilled!”

“How lovely,” muttered Rhonin.

“Tauren’re good fighters. Welcome comrades in any war.” The hulking, green warrior came to a halt, resting his ax on the ground. “Not as good as orcs… but almost.”

Krasus eyed the direction of the battle. “Another temporary reprieve, at best, even with the joining of the other races. This cannot continue. We must turn the tide once and for all!”

“But that would mean the dragons…” his former protege interjected. “And they don’t dare do anything, not so long as Deathwing has the Demon Soul.” Rhonin saw no reason to call the black dragon by his original name, Neltharion, anymore.

“No, I fear they dare not. We saw what happened when the blue dragons tried.”

Malfurion frowned. He thought of Tyrande. Nothing could truly be done for her unless the Burning Legion was thwarted and they would need everyone, especially the dragons, to accomplish that. But the dragons could not face the Demon Soul, so that meant —

“Then, we’ve got to take it from the black,” he suddenly announced.

Even from Brox, ever willing to leap into any battle, the druid received a wide stare. Jarod shook his head in dismay and Rhonin eyed Malfurion as if he had gone completely mad.

Yet, Krasus, after his initial surprise, gave the night elf a speculative look.

“Malfurion is correct, I am afraid. We must do it.”

“Krasus, you can’t be serious — ”

The dragon mage cut off the wizard. “I am. I had already vaguely considered it myself.”

“But we don’t even know where Deathwing is. He’s shielded himself even better than the other dragons.”

“That is true. I have considered some ancient spells, but none so far that I believe will have much success. I will attempt them, and if they fail, I will then have to — ”

“I think I can do it,” Malfurion interrupted. “I think I can find him through the Emerald Dream. I don’t believe he’s sealed himself off from it as the palace has done.”

Krasus looked quite impressed by the druid. “You may very well be right, young one…” He considered further. “But even if he has made such an error, there is, of course, the danger that Neltharion will still sense you. He did, as you mentioned earlier, try to track you inside the Dream.”

“I’ve learned to be more careful. I’ll do it. It’s the only way to save her — to save us.”

The cowled figure placed a gloved hand on Malfurion’s shoulder. “We will do what we can for her, too.”

“I’ll start immediately.”

“No! You need rest first. For her sake as well as yours, you need to be at your best. If you make a mistake or are discovered by him, all will be lost.”

Malfurion nodded, but in his disappointment, there was now some hope, however slight. True, Neltharion might be prepared, but the dragon was obsessive, single-minded. His megalomania might work against him.

“I’ll do as you say,” he told the mage. “But there’s also one other thing I’ve got to do, then. There’s someone I need to speak with who may better my chances.”

Krasus bowed his head in agreement and understanding. “Cenarius. You need to speak with the forest lord.”

She had not been fed, but Tyrande did not yet feel hunger. Elune still filled her with the moon goddess’s love, nourishment enough for anyone. How long that would last, however, was an important question. The dire forces raised by the demons and the Highborne grew with every passing moment and, in addition, the priestess sensed some other, darker presence as well. It did not seem a part of the Burning Legion’s plan, but worked alongside it.

Perhaps such a notion was only the first sign of coming madness, but Tyrande could not help wondering if the demons were being manipulated just as they were manipulating the queen.

Someone worked on the door. Tyrande’s brow furrowed. She had heard no marching. Whoever was out in the corridor had come in utter silence. Moreover, she realized that the guards had grown extremely quiet over the past several minutes.

The door slid open. Tyrande tried to think who would come in such secrecy.

Illidan?

But it was not Malfurion’s brother who slipped inside. Rather, it was the noble who acted as Azshara’s chief handmaiden. The other night elf glanced up with guarded eyes at the captive, then turned to make certain that the door closed without a sound. As she did, Tyrande could not but help notice no guards visible outside. Were they simply out of sight or entirely gone?

Looking at her, the handmaiden smiled. If it was meant to comfort Tyrande, it did not entirely succeed.

“I am Lady Vashj,” the newcomer reminded her. “You are a priestess of Elune.”

“I am Tyrande Whisperwind.”

Vashj nodded absently. “I have come to help you escape.”

Tyrande instinctively thanked the Mother Moon. She had misjudged Vashj, thinking her a jealous sycophant of the queen.

Stepping as close as she could, Vashj continued, “I’ve taken a talisman that can open the sphere around you and release you from the demon’s spell. You can also use it to ward off their notice, as I have.”