William King - Illidan

Illidan’s head swiveled to look directly at her. He raised his warglaives as he invoked powerful magic. The spell he wove seemed to have nothing to do with the ritual taking place around them.

A magical signal blazed.

Maiev sensed the sudden opening of the portals all around her. Gaps appeared in the fabric of reality. Clouds of mist billowed forth from them as differences in temperature and air pressure between the point of origin and the point of terminus manifested. The fog provided cover for the masses of reinforcements emerging through the portals.

Hundreds upon hundreds of naga slithered forth, along with companies of fel orcs. The gates appeared between the parties of magicians. In places, the emerging fighters smashed into Maiev’s own soldiers.

She saw that they needed to throw Illidan’s forces back through the gates before the superior numbers could be brought to bear. The portal mouths were not huge. A small number of troops could choke the exit points.

Maiev shouted orders, telling her soldiers to strike at the emerging Illidari. It was a stopgap measure. Sooner or later greater numbers would prevail. That was not the point. All they had to do was buy her time to reach Illidan and put an end to his evil career forever.

Even as her troops reacted, she realized that the Betrayer had taken her response into account. There were too many portals for her small force to close them all. Groups of Illidari emerged on the flanks of the swirling melee.

She lengthened her stride to try to reach the Betrayer, determined that if nothing else, she would be avenged. As if he knew what she was thinking and wanted to mock her, Illidan spread his wings and leapt into the sky.

Maiev sensed more magic being woven and looked around. Amid a court of powerful naga sorcerers stood Lady Vashj. The leader of the Illidari’s serpent folk lashed about her with potent spells. Maiev’s troops fell as if poleaxed.

The bitter taste of defeat filled Maiev’s mouth.

A massive fel orc leapt in front of her. His monstrous axe swept down. She ducked beneath it, rolled forward, and hamstrung the creature with her umbra crescent.

A phalanx of fel orc warriors charged at her. She tensed, ready to spring. A bolt of pure cold shivered through her body, shocking her to a stop. Lady Vashj had made contact with a spell. Howling maniacally, the fel orcs rushed in. Maiev tried to move her frozen muscles, but they refused to respond. She was going to die and Illidan was going to go free once more.

The fel orcs closed the distance with terrifying speed. Spittle drooped from the lips of one massive red-skinned creature as he raised his axe to take her head. Maiev refused to shut her eyes. An arrow whizzed out of nowhere and buried itself in the creature’s throat. Another one hit him on the shoulder and sent him twisting to the ground. More arrows rained down, killing more fel orcs. All of them had Anyndra’s green-and-red fletching. A fel orc tripped over the corpses of his comrades. A berserker leapt over the growing pile and closed the distance. Maiev managed to get her arm moving, attempted a parry. Too slow. Too slow.

The great hunting cat that was Sarius leapt in from the side, caught the berserk fel orc’s arm, twisted his weight to overbalance him, and gouged him with his claws. Reddish-black rents appeared in the fel orc’s neck. Blood spurted. More fel orcs piled onto the druid, determined to bring him down. Sarius rose, this time wearing the form of a bear, shifting the enormous weight of the fel orc warriors. Their blades hacked his fur, drawing blood, but magic surged around the druid to close his wounds.

Maiev felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head to see Anyndra’s appalled face. “We have got to get out of here!” her second-in-command bellowed. Her voice was already hoarse from shouting orders above the clamor of battle.

Not many of Maiev’s troops remained: a handful of her draenei and Broken fighters, and Anyndra and Sarius. The gates were fully open now. Fel orc after fel orc and naga after naga poured through. This was more than a force of bodyguards. It was an army.

For a moment she considered flight. She could order her troops to run and fight another day, but she might never get another chance like this. She must kill the Betrayer this day. Even if it meant giving up her life and the lives of all her companions, it would be a price worth paying.

A monstrous shadow fell on her. Looking up, she saw Illidan swoop overhead, his great wings spread. His eerie laughter echoed out over the battlefield, audible even over the ring of blade on blade, the war cries of the Broken, and the howls of the fel orcs.

Magical energy surged around her as the blood elf and naga spellcasters returned to their interrupted ritual. Black spheres swirled above the battlefield. Long tentacles of darkness reached down and touched the wounded and the dying. Where they did so, the victims screamed and aged years in heartbeats, as if all their life force was being drawn out of them. Black sparks emerged from their bodies and were sucked upward into the unholy spheres. Maiev realized that their very souls were being devoured.

Not even the souls of the dead were safe. When the tentacles touched a corpse, leather armor would grow tattered, chain mail and bright blades would tarnish and rust, and a spirit would come forth as black sparks to suffer the same fate as all the others.

With every soul absorbed, the spheres grew larger and darker. Bolts of black lightning danced among them, forming great chains of energy. A shimmering hole appeared in the air over the altar, feeding on the souls of the fallen.

Maiev looked around for Akama and saw him farther upslope, standing appalled as he watched the massive spell take effect. She hacked her way toward him. Had he known about this trap? Anyndra fought calmly at her side. The massive bear that was Sarius lumbered along, dragging half a dozen screaming fel orcs with him. The druid bled from a score of cuts, his magic unable to compensate for all his wounds.

Maiev looked on hundreds of corpses. Most of them were draenei; some of them were night elves or Broken. Far too few were fel orcs, naga, or blood elves. It came to Maiev that many of the dead were Ashtongue. Akama stood atop a boulder, shouting, “This slaughter was not part of the plan! You said we were supposed to capture Maiev!”

So all of this had been a scheme concocted by Illidan and the treacherous Broken. The thought filled Maiev with rage.

Magically amplified, Illidan’s mad voice boomed over the battlefield. “Ah, we will capture Maiev, Akama. But there are other things that need to be done this day.”

He sounded truly demonic.

Akama screamed and raised his fist. Chained lightning circled his fingers, and he looked for a moment as if he was considering hurling it at Illidan. Then he noticed how close Maiev was. He gestured. The air shimmered around him and he was gone.

“Head for that rise!” Maiev shouted. “We will make our stand there.”

Anyndra nodded; then her eyes went wide with shock. An orcish blade protruded from her chest. Blood poured from her mouth. A muscular red arm went around her throat. There was a cracking sound and her neck broke. She fell forward.

Sarius’s roar of grief and rage vibrated through the air. It echoed through the chasms around them and just for a moment drowned out the thunder of the volcano. He hurled himself forward, shaking off the clutching fel orcs, and caught Anyndra’s killer with his jaws. He reared up on his haunches and shook the slayer like a terrier would a rat. The fel orc’s neck broke in turn.

Spells burst around the huge bear. His movements slowed. Fel orc after fel orc struck him, drawing blood. More and more charged him. Even his strength had limits, and he was pulled down and hacked to pieces.