William King - Illidan

He hoped his people were ready.

As his spirit hovered over the pattern, Illidan became aware of a banging on the door of the sanctum and a female voice screaming for his attention. They were audible through the ears of his body, which lay beneath him. He let his spirit drop back into his flesh and surveyed his surroundings. He spoke the words of opening, and the seal on the entrance was removed.

Lady Malande stood before him, looking at the vast shape of the pattern with something like wonder in her eyes. “Lord Illidan,” she said. “An enemy force is within the gates. High Warlord Naj’entus has fallen at the entrance to the sewers. The enemy is on the move.”

It took Illidan a few moments to register her words. Naj’entus had been set along with a small army to watch over the sealed entrance to the sewers. Illidan had sent reinforcements. The naga champion and his forces should have been able to fend off a legion. Something had gone very badly wrong. Treachery. The temple had been betrayed from within. Perhaps it was the blood elves or Akama’s people.

It looked as if time had run out. Illidan picked up the Skull of Gul’dan. Its smile mocked him once more. There was only one thing left to do. He would need the power of the soul siphon. There was still a use he could put it to.

Maiev stood atop a mountain of demon corpses. Her breath thundered from her chest. The thrill of victory blazed within her heart. She had closed the portal and stopped the seemingly endless tide of demons. She only wished that there were more. She would have stacked their corpses as high as the walls and entered the temple that way instead of through the sewers as Akama had planned.

A huge surge of familiar energy pulsed deep within the temple.

No! She knew what that meant. She had felt its like before on the slopes of the Hand of Gul’dan. Somewhere within his fortress, Illidan was opening another portal, far greater than the one that Vagath had come through. Ominous energy filled the air as the rent in the fabric of reality widened. Perhaps the Betrayer was summoning some new demon from the depths of the Twisting Nether. Most likely he was planning on escape. She could not let that happen again. She needed to get inside the Black Temple now. She would end this thing today.

She used her power to blink swiftly across the battlefield and through the passageway into the sewers.

Illidan would not elude justice this time.

Vandel watched as the silver-armored figure completed the slaughter of an army of demons. He recognized her from the tales he had heard of the battle at the Hand of Gul’dan. Maiev Shadowsong was loose. That should not have been possible. She was bound in Warden’s Cage, guarded by demons, rings of terrible warding spells woven around her. Akama must have freed her.

Come to me now, my demon hunters.

The voice echoed within Vandel’s head. It was a summoning on a primal level. It vibrated through his tattoos and bored into his brain with a compulsion that was all but irresistible. Along with the summons came the knowledge of where he had to go, a place deep within the fortress, close to the council chamber.

He pulled himself away from the viewpoint in the wall and raced toward the distant stairwell.

All around him, he could see the signs of activity. Troops ran to defensive positions. Horns sounded and drums rumbled in the depths. These were warning signs. Somewhere the temple defenses had been breached.

He heard the sounds of combat in the distance. The demon urged him to race toward it, to take part in the killing, to reap souls.

Come to me now, my demon hunters.

Once again the command rang out. This time he felt it shivering through his very bones. Was this how a demon felt when it was summoned from the Twisting Nether? Drawn and compelled by forces it did not understand but struggled to resist?

Why was he even resisting? The voice was Illidan’s and it contained such urgency that Vandel almost wept. Somewhere deep within the temple, potent energies stirred. Vandel recognized them. A gate was being opened, but to where, he could not tell.

Did Illidan plan an escape? Or was the opening created by his enemies? Perhaps traitors within the fortress were summoning aid from elsewhere. Perhaps Illidan himself had opened the portal. The energies of this gate felt very much like those of the one that had led to Nathreza. Had Illidan finally opened the path to Argus? There was only one way Vandel was going to find out.

Somewhere in the darkness, he sensed other demon hunters moving, felt the presence of their inner demons. He cursed. It seemed that his curiosity about the attack had put him the farthest away from their master. He leapt as he reached the top of the stairs.

Come to me now, my demon hunters. The voice boomed within his skull like the tolling of a great bell; then its echoes slowly died away, leaving him feeling alone. The sense of a summoning deep within the temple intensified. The way to somewhere else lay open, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would soon close and that any chance of him reaching the portal would be gone.

He took the stairs ten at a time, bounding down them with the agility of a panther, tumbling headlong, rolling to his feet, taking advantage of the force of gravity to increase his velocity. Urgency burned within his brain, compelled him to rush. It was not just fear. Not just the sense that the temple was on the verge of falling. It was an overwhelming feeling that if he failed to answer the summons, he would regret it forever, that somehow he would not achieve his destiny.

He raced on toward the training grounds. Outside the doorway, he heard the gigantic, angry roar of Supremus, as if the abyssal was engaged in combat with some mighty foe.

Dragons flashed by overhead. Spells erupted. Demons moved toward the Sanctuary of Shadows, as if they were preparing to block the path of powerful intruders. All was confusion.

Maiev emerged from the sewers into the aftermath of a terrible battle.

She stood in a huge courtyard. The corpse of a nether drake lay on the ground near her, its tail still twitching as if the great reptile had not yet realized it was dead. Akama and his allies had carved their way through Illidan’s defenses. Hundreds more corpses of Dragonmaw orcs and demons lay strewn across the ground. Potent magic had been unleashed here. Off to her right stood gigantic siege engines. Beyond them was a stairway fit for a titan. It led into the depths of the Black Temple.

Still she sensed the pulse of that great portal being opened. She glared around her, and her eyes caught sight of something startlingly strange. A demonic figure erupted from an archway in the wall on her left.

Vandel raced from the stairwell into the training courtyard. The air stank of death and unleashed magic. Dead dragons and demons lay everywhere. The corpses of fel orcs lay piled in small hills. What had once seemed an invincible force had been defeated. Only one living thing moved in the aftermath of the awesome violence, a silver-armored night elf with a curved blade. Her entire body was shrouded by powerful magical armor. It was Maiev Shadowsong. Somehow she had managed to get into the temple as swiftly as he had gotten down from the walls. There was magic at work here.

Maiev stared at him and raised her blade as if ready to attack.

Vandel froze. He did not wish to fight a fellow night elf. He wanted only to get past her and answer Illidan’s summons.

“Demon spawn, prepare to die,” Maiev said. Suddenly she was no longer where she had been. Vandel sensed a disturbance behind him and threw himself forward, rolling as a blade cleft the air where his head had been. He tumbled to his feet, facing Maiev.