William King: Illidan

She rolled away from the scarp edge. Anyndra and Sarius were behind her. Her mouth felt dry. She tensed, expecting to hear the furious roar of legions of fel orcs dispatched in pursuit.

Maiev lay on her back for a moment, looking at the sky. No roar sounded. No alarm was given. Perhaps Illidan had seen them and did not think them enough of a threat to be bothered with. The idea was galling.

She rolled downslope and sprang to her feet, out of the line of sight of the enemy.

The rest of her grim-faced troops crept back from the ridgeline, slowly filtering toward her position. It was bad discipline and bad tactics. Some of them should be keeping watch lest an assailant fall upon them the way she had fallen upon the fel orcs. She wanted to say something, then noticed all eyes were upon her.

Anyndra flexed the fingers of her blade hand, the way she always did when trying to conceal the extremity of her nervousness. Sarius had reverted to his night elf form. His hawklike features were calm, but his mouth was a tight slash at the bottom of his face, and his eyes were narrowed as they focused on her. A frown scarred his otherwise smooth brow.

Maiev studied the rest of her troops. A few were pale, and she guessed the sweat on their brows was not just from the heat. Others glanced around like mice expecting an owl to drop out of a moonlit sky.

They were frightened.

It was near unbelievable. They were Watchers, chosen for their courage and their steadiness in the face of danger. They had followed her through countless perils without flinching. Now they seemed ready to break and run.

The night elves formed up in a half circle, looking up at her. One of them said, “We cannot win here.”

Maiev wrestled with her anger. She wanted to shout at them, to upbraid them for their folly and cowardice, but she could not. Enemies might hear her voice. A disturbance could call the attention of that mighty army thundering along the road below them.

Slowly, she allowed the idea to seep into her mind that they might be right. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer to Elune. When she opened them again, she realized that she was not looking at a force of Watchers. The proud, disciplined troops who had ridden out of the vaults of the Barrow Deeps were gone. In their place was a small group of dusty elves, strangers in a savage land, lost, far from home, and confronted by a foe with limitless fighters at his disposal. Illidan had already overcome the mightiest demon in Outland and turned his legions into loyal followers. Perhaps her people were right to doubt that they could overcome him.

They stared at her, waiting to hear what she had to say. Even now, they retained the habit of looking to her for leadership. She could not let them down. She took a deep breath and said, “No. We cannot win here.”

Some looked pleased at her admission. A few looked astonished, as if they could not quite believe the words had come from her mouth. Maiev understood how they felt, but she kept speaking, her voice emerging in a rusty rasp. “We cannot win here. Now. That does not mean the Betrayer is safe from us forever.”

Several of them nodded as if she was saying what they had expected her to say, as if she was giving voice to their consciences. “He cannot escape us. He cannot simply walk away from his transgressions. We are the avenging hand of the kaldorei. We will be his undoing. We had him in our grasp once and he escaped, aided by his treacherous allies. But the Betrayer will not escape us again. Right is on our side. Justice is on our side. The spirits of our dead cry out for vengeance. They insist that we make him pay for his crimes.

“We have come too far, sacrificed too much, to waste our chance. If we are to return to Darnassus with our heads held high, we must go back with the Betrayer or his corpse. If we do not, our people will think of us only as those who betrayed their trust. You have seen what is happening here. You know that the Betrayer is amassing an army. We must make sure that all of Azeroth knows, too, and understands that we did our duty.”

One elf swallowed and wiped her eyes. They looked watery with unshed tears. Maiev shifted her hands slowly, her movements as controlled as a dancer’s. Her fists clenched. “There is a time for everything, and Illidan’s time is coming. You followed me here knowing that, and I swear to you that your faith was justified. I will not allow Illidan to escape the consequences of his deeds.”

She paused to give her words emphasis. “I will do so even if I must go on alone.”

She let her words sink in. “All of you swore an oath to follow me. Each of you knows the value of your word. The question you must ask yourself is whether you will remain true to your oaths, or whether you will be like him. Are you as faithless as the Betrayer, or are you true daughters and sons of Elune? In your heart of hearts, only you can answer that. I want you each to look within yourself and find the answer to that question. I want no one with me who will flinch when the moment of truth comes. Only you can decide whether you wish to stand beside me when I bring due punishment down upon the head of Illidan the Betrayer.”

Some of the elves would not meet her eyes. A few looked away, but most of them, she was proud to see, stared up at her with renewed determination written on their faces. Their belief fed her own, and she felt her usual certainty return.

“I am with you,” said Anyndra. She knelt and offered her blade.

“And I,” said Sarius. He did the same. One by one, the rest of the Watchers pledged renewed loyalty, even those few who were visibly reluctant. They bowed because their friends and comrades were doing so and because they did not wish to be left alone in this alien place. Maiev nodded in satisfaction. She had won one small victory this day, at least.

“What now, Warden Shadowsong?” Anyndra asked.

Maiev responded, “We must find allies. This is a land where they are essential. We must seek out someone braver than Akama and see if they will aid us.”

Illidan strode into the vast chamber in which Magtheridon was bound. The demon hunter seethed with frustration. His defeat at the hands of Arthas stung his pride. Reports of Maiev’s presence had filtered in from across Outland, but so far she had proved elusive as a ghost. She still sought to bury him in chains. The spells restraining the pit lord reminded Illidan of his own imprisonment, and of those who had held him. Rage bubbled up within him. He paced eight steps and forced himself to stop before he could take the ninth.

“So you failed in the mission that great Kil’jaeden gave you, little Illidan,” boomed Magtheridon. His words echoed off the massive stone blocks of the walls, amplified by the huge well in the center of the chamber. “Your failure to destroy the Lich King does not surprise me. You are destined always to fail.”

Illidan stared at the pit lord. Even shackled deep in the great vaults below Hellfire Citadel, Magtheridon remained a potent figure. The magical chains holding him were taut. The binding spells from the Manticron cubes constantly deformed as the demon exerted his will.

Illidan muttered a word of power. Magical generators blazed, and fel energy surged. Magtheridon screamed. The smell of scorched demon flesh filled the air.

“How does it feel to be defeated utterly by such a failure?” Illidan asked. The enormous tail of the pit lord lashed, causing him more pain as he made contact with binding spells.

“You think you have defeated me?” Magtheridon’s voice rasped out. His breathing sounded like muted thunder even within this vast hall.

“Apparently you are too stupid to realize when you have been vanquished. It seems you think being imprisoned is a sign of victory.”