William King - Illidan

He would have wept if he still could. He covered his empty eye sockets in despair.

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.”