William King - Illidan

Maiev thought she detected an off note in Akama’s voice. He was afraid of being overheard. Were they being watched? She would have to assume that they were. Was it possible he still schemed against the Betrayer and somehow believed that she had a place in those schemes?

“And why do you think he did this?”

“He has returned, having slaughtered an army of demons, perhaps killed a world full of them. So he claimed when he came back through the portal.”

“And you believe him?”

“I believe that Illidan truly hates the nathrezim, that he hates all of the Burning Legion.”

Did she hear doubt in his voice? Was Akama merely an actor mouthing a script in order to avoid having suspicion fall on him? “Why are you here? Did you come to gloat?”

“I am here to make sure you are well. Lord Illidan wants to be certain of that. He has plans for you.”

Maiev’s mouth went dry and her heart hammered within her chest. She could imagine exactly what sort of plans the Betrayer had for her. She was being kept alive and in good health for a reason, and it was not a pleasant one. Illidan intended to make her pay for his long imprisonment. She forced the thought down. She would face any torture when it came. She would not give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her afraid.

“And he is testing you,” she said. This time she allowed mockery to show in her voice. “He does not trust you.”

“I doubt he trusts anybody,” Akama said. “If you were he, would you?”

“I would never be like him.”

“You are more like him than you can possibly know. You are just as ruthless and just as obsessed. You sacrificed your friends without a second thought when it suited your purpose. You sacrificed the lives of all your followers.”

Maiev wanted to strike him but the bars restrained her. She glared at his lined face and said, “I do not accept your judgments, Akama. I have learned not to trust anything you say.”

“You can tell yourself that if you like, but look into your heart and you will see my words are true.”

She grasped the bars as if she could somehow twist them out of shape and make her way through to him.

Akama laughed. “You are still strong. That is good. You will need that strength in the days to come.”

“I am not frightened by your threats, old one.”

“You think that was a threat? Consider this, Maiev Shadowsong—Lord Illidan is not the only one who has plans for you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I, too, have plans.” Once again there was an ambiguous note in Akama’s voice. Was this a veiled threat, or was it meant to sound like one while communicating something else?

“I want no part of any of your schemes, treacherous one,” Maiev said, hoping to draw him out.

“You may have no choice before this is over.”

Akama turned and limped away. Despite herself, Maiev was sorry to watch him go. This was the closest thing she had had to a conversation since she had woken in captivity. And Akama was at least a familiar face.

She wondered if this was what she was supposed to think, if it was all part of some subtle plan of the Betrayer’s to wear her down. If it was, there was nothing she could do about it now. She just had to endure, be patient, and gather her strength.

She had nothing else now but time. She swore she would find a way to make the Betrayer pay for all the deaths he had caused. Akama, too, when the moment came. She had begun to work out the composition of a spell that would help her trap Illidan. She would test it if ever she won her freedom.

The harsh sun blazed down on the parched earth of Hellfire Peninsula, drying the blood almost as soon as it fell. Vandel chopped down the last of the demons, then walked over to retrieve his dagger from the eye of the one he had slain with a throw.

Looking around, he could see they had achieved their objective. Lord Illidan stood beside the palanquins the demons had fought so hard to protect, arms folded across his chest, wings spread wide in triumph.

The corpses of demons lay everywhere, slaughtered by the Illidari. Vandel’s demon whispered hungrily in his mind. He fought the urge to gulp down demon flesh and instead climbed up a huge boulder and studied the battleground. He nodded at one of the new crop of demon hunters who had joined the ranks since the battle with the nathrezim. In the month since, they had almost replaced the casualties of that great battle in the archive of the dreadlords.

They had lost more soldiers since that battle. It sometimes seemed that in the weeks that followed, they had never stopped fighting. That was not quite true. There had been a period when Illidan had retreated within his sanctum to consider his next move. For days they had done nothing but train and oversee the new recruits. Then the Betrayer had emerged with a new plan, and they had spent almost all their time in lightning raids against the Burning Legion.

They must have fought a score of battles. They had attacked forge camps in Nagrand, and ambushed convoys passing through the Netherstorm. Time and again they had intercepted forces passing through Hellfire Peninsula.

Some of the fights had been to close down portals the Legion opened into Outland. The logic of that was clear. No doubt the masters of the Burning Legion thirsted for vengeance against Illidan. Their incursions had become ever more numerous. Their forces ever stronger.

That had not been all of it, though. Some new portals had been opened into places Vandel recognized in Azeroth: Winterspring and Azshara. Illidan had insisted that the demon hunters close those and claim certain magical crystals used in their creation. He said the Legion had been launching invasions into Azeroth from Outland and this needed to be stopped.

It was clear that the demons were planning another great assault. Not all of their gates could be closed. They had established mighty beachheads in the Blade’s Edge Mountains and on the very edges of Nagrand. From what Vandel had overheard, there were more forge camps Illidan’s forces had never seen and perhaps were never likely to.

It was equally clear that Lord Illidan was seeking materials to create something. If forced to make a guess, Vandel would have said he was collecting components for another gateway such as the one he had opened to Nathreza. Vandel had heard some of the others, the ones knowledgeable about such things, mention this, and it seemed as good a theory as any.

Vandel would not have been surprised to discover that they would find more of the crystals in the metal coffins this force had been escorting, along with other pieces of magical equipment that could be scavenged.

Since his memorable speech after the battle, Lord Illidan had not seen fit to enlighten them any further as to his ultimate plan. He had merely dispatched them hither and yon to strike at the Legion, sometimes leading them himself, sometimes letting Elarisiel or Vandel take charge. There was no rhyme or reason to Illidan accompanying them. Sometimes the battles he led them into were little more than slaughters of fel orcs still loyal to the Burning Legion. Sometimes he was not with them when they faced their toughest opposition. Rumor had it that he worked strange rituals when the stars were right, that he was creating some work of sorcery that would lead them to inevitable victory.

Below, Illidan studied the remains of the palanquins they had ambushed. Each of the coffins had been borne by half a dozen demonic servitors, and each of them now lay in the dust, their gleaming metallic sides losing their luster.

Before Illidan a fel orc hovered in the air, one of the Legion’s soldiers, bound by the Betrayer’s magic.