William King - Illidan

Vandel vaulted down the rocks, leaping from boulder to boulder, passing over precipices where the slightest misstep would send him plunging to his doom. He hit the ground rolling, sprang to his feet, and strode over to Lord Illidan’s side.

“Anything to report, nightstalker?” the Betrayer asked. As ever he seemed to know that Vandel was there without having to look. It was less disconcerting now that Vandel knew how the trick was done and could do it himself.

“The perimeters are secure, Lord, and we do not appear to be under immediate threat.”

“I would not be too sure of that if I were you,” Illidan said.

“Lord?”

“I think the Burning Legion has finally worked out what I am doing.”

“How would they do that, Lord?”

“Perhaps they have spies left in our ranks. Only one of these canisters contains the helstones I seek. The rest are filled with rocks.”

“How can you tell?”

“Use the sight the ritual gave you.”

Vandel concentrated on the metal cylinders and saw immediately what his overlord had meant. One of them blazed with contained energy as if filled to the brim with scintillant crystals. The others did not burn nearly so bright. They contained no trapped magical energy that Illidan could use for whatever it was he planned.

As if to prove his point, Illidan leaned forward and wrenched one open. Glittering gemstones rolled out, but so did a number of glassy shards. One who did not possess the spectral sight of a demon hunter might have been fooled, but one who could see the presence of magic itself was not deceived.

“You think this is a trap then?”

“Possibly, or merely a deception intended to lure us to a different place while the real cargo goes by another route. I think this highlord Kruul I have been hearing so much about is cleverer than the Legion’s former field commanders.”

“Who is he?” Vandel asked.

“Let us find out,” Illidan said. He turned to the fel orc, who floated in the air, wrapped in chains of energy. His face twisted into a defiant sneer.

“I know you, Betrayer. You are well named.”

“If I had a copper for every time I have heard that, I could build a tower of coins to the nearest moon,” Illidan said. “I wish my enemies could come up with something more original.”

The fel orc tried to spit at Illidan, but his saliva sizzled and evaporated when it hit an energy chain. “Tell me of Highlord Kruul,” Illidan said. “I would know more of your new general.”

“I will tell you nothing,” said the fel orc. “I do not fear any torture you can inflict.”

“As you wish.” Illidan gestured. Magical energy surged from his outstretched hands to the fel orc’s head. The chains pulsed brighter. The fel orc screamed. His spirit departed, leaving only a shell. Vandel could see that.

Illidan said, “Tell me of Highlord Kruul.”

The corpse opened its mouth and laughed. “No need, Betrayer. No need. He approaches. Ask him yourself.”

Magical energy pulsed from within the metal cylinders, visible as light to Vandel’s altered vision. It swirled into the air, forming a shimmering vortex. A moment later, a portal sprang into being where the power coalesced. A blast of furnace-like heat filled the air, driving the Illidari back and incinerating the fel orc’s corpse.

An enormous figure emerged, flanked by two blazing infernals.

He looked like a doomguard, Vandel thought, but larger. He had horns like a tauren, massive, bison-like. Huge wings draped his back. Yellow demonic runes glared on his bracers. In his right hand he clutched a gigantic black blade on which runes pulsed in subdued blue. The sword looked large enough to take down an Ashenvale oak with one swipe.

“So you are the one who defeated Magtheridon,” the demon said. “You don’t look like much.”

His voice boomed brazenly over the battlefield. Flames trailed behind him when he walked, as if the very ground could not bear the touch of his hooves without combusting in fear.

It said something of Kruul’s confidence that he was prepared to face an army of demon hunters only with his infernal bodyguards. Looking at him, Vandel judged his self-assurance justified. He blazed with power. Currents of potent magic swirled around him.

“And you look like just another doomguard,” Illidan said. “Have you come to see if you can get vengeance for the doom of your brethren’s homeworld?”

Kruul’s laughter rang out. “That was well done. Destruction wreaked upon the destroyers. But, no, I have not come to seek vengeance. I have come to kill you.”

Illidan unsheathed his warglaives. “Others have tried. I shall pen you beside Magtheridon and use your blood to build my armies.”

“My blood would burn your little pets. You would only have charred husks to serve you.”

As the gigantic doomguard spoke, more and more infernals poured through the portal. Their skin blazed with searing heat. They seemed to grow stronger in Kruul’s presence.

In the hills around them, Vandel sensed the Illidari moving into position. They were ready to attack.

“I have charted the portals you have been opening,” Illidan said. “You have been busy. Ironforge, Stormwind City, Orgrimmar. Silithus. The Plaguelands. You seek to invade Azeroth once more, do you not?”

Highlord Kruul merely bared his massive teeth. “And I have studied your reaving of our forces, and I see a pattern to it. You seek to build another gateway, don’t you? Ah, but to where, is the question. I have heard of your boasting. Could it be you are truly mad enough to seek Argus?”

“Perhaps we will discuss this while I have you imprisoned in Hellfire Citadel.”

“I fear that your time for discussion has run out.” Even as Kruul spoke, a massive core hound appeared from the portal. Its red skin blazed with fire. Two heads emerged from its gigantic shoulders. Their monstrous jaws made those of a felhound look feeble. Metallic armor encased its heavy shoulders and forelimbs.

It bounded forward to attack even as Kruul sent a bolt of dark energy hurtling toward Illidan. The lord of Outland leapt into the air and avoided it. It smashed into the rocks behind where he had stood. They turned to dust, as if they had suffered a million years of erosion in a moment.

Vandel found himself face-to-face with Kruul’s demonic pet. Its jaws gaped. Lava bubbled within them.

The infernals lumbered toward him. Vandel vaulted over the core hound. His feet briefly touched the hot metal of its armor. He propelled himself into the air before they had time to scorch. As he did so he sent his own bolt of fel energy blazing down into the demon. It struck one of the heads and elicited a brief scream. The thing’s skin darkened at the point of contact and began to putrefy.

From the slopes, a dozen demon hunters joined in, sending a fusillade of fel energy into the core hound’s skin, smashing into the infernals and sapping them of life.

Kruul swept his blade through the air and invoked his power. A hail of shadow energy lashed out. A volley of bolts hurtled at the demon hunters. Some fell wounded. Others slumped to the ground. Kruul seemed to visibly swell as he feasted on their deaths. Behind him the gigantic portal still blazed.

Vandel somersaulted at the top of his arc, pulled his blades clear of their sheaths, and dropped onto the demonic hound’s back. Pain flared where his skin touched the creature’s burning flesh. He aimed for a weak spot in the armor and drove his blades in. There was a satisfying crunch as points punched through scaled flesh. Molten ichor spurted, searing his skin. He vaulted clear of the beast and rolled to one side, narrowly avoiding the trampling feet of a gigantic infernal.

He dived between the demon’s legs, ignoring the scorching heat. His movements took him closer to Kruul. The doomguard paid him no mind. All his attention seemed focused on Illidan.