The Demon Soul (19 page)

“I will hold you to that, Mal.”

He smiled at her use of his childhood nickname, then had to cling on tight as the hippogriff charged into the air after its mate.

“The journey will be long,” shouted Krasus, “but not nearly so long, thanks to the demigod’s gift!”

Malfurion nodded, not entirely paying attention. His gaze remained on the shrinking figure below. He watched her watch him in turn, until finally he could no longer see her at all.

And even then he watched more, at that instant knowing in his heart that Tyrande did exactly the same.

T
he demons did not regroup and attack, which the night elves took as a promising sign even if Rhonin and Brox felt otherwise. Ravencrest dared use another evening to let his troops rest more and although both outsiders agreed with the need for that, they also knew that the Burning Legion would be in no way idle during that period. Archimonde would be plotting, planning, each second his adversaries delayed.

The discovery of the disappearance of Krasus and Malfurion did not sit well with the night elves. Jarod looked as if he were heading to the gallows, and not without good reason. It had been his responsibility to see that nothing happened to the desperately-needed spellcasters, and now some of them had abandoned the host under his very nose.

“Lord Ravencrest will have my hide for this!” the former Guard officer uttered more than once as he and the others headed to the noble’s tent. That Tyrande, who had just returned after seeing Malfurion and Krasus off, had insisted on coming to help explain matters did not comfort Jarod in the least. He was certain that he would receive the most terrible punishment for having let such valuable members of the host simply leave.

And, indeed, it initially appeared that the bearded elder might do as he said. Upon hearing the news, Lord Ravencrest let out a furious roar and struck aside the small table that he had been using for his various charts and notes.

“I gave no permission for such foolish activities!” yelled the master of Black Rook Hold. “By perpetrating this outrage, they threaten the stability of our forces! If word should leak out that two of our spellcasters have abandoned us at this integral moment—”

“They didn’t abandon anyone,” protested Rhonin. “They went for help.”

“From the dragons? Those two might as well walk directly into the jaws of the first one they see, for all the aid we can expect from those creatures! The wizard’s pet was good enough assistance under his guidance, but wild dragons…”

“The dragons are the oldest, most intelligent race of our world. They know more than we will ever learn.”

“And they’re likely to eat most of us before we even get the chance to!” Ravencrest retorted. He glanced at Tyrande, and his tone grew a bit more respectful. “And what part does a Sister of Elune have in all this?”

“We have met before, my lord.”

He peered closer. “Aaah, yes! We have! Your female friend, Illidan!”

The sorcerer, who had been silently standing to the side, nodded. Illidan’s expression revealed nothing.

Ravencrest crossed his arms. “I had hopes that either of you might have some influence over young Malfurion at least. I know that no one can command Master Krasus, no one, indeed.”

“Malfurion meant to come back,” the priestess countered, “but his patron gave indication that he should travel with the wizard.”

“Patron? You refer to that nonsense about the demigod, Cenarius?”

Tyrande pursed her lips. “Illidan can attest to the existence of the forest lord.”

His mask crumbling, Malfurion’s twin muttered, “ ’Tis true. Cenarius is real. I’ve seen him.”

“Hmmph! Dragons and now demigods! All this might and magic abounding around us, yet we are losing strength, not gaining! I suppose this Cenarius also has reasons for not siding with us!”

“He and his kind battle the demons in their own manner,” she answered.

“And speaking of the demons, did not either of these fools consider that they’re constantly at risk from assassins? What if they were attacked before they ever—” Ravencrest paused as he noted the shifting gazes of the party. “Were they attacked?”

The priestess bowed her head. “Yes, my lord. I and my sisters were there. We aided them in defeating the demons. Both left uninjured.”

Next to her, Jarod grimaced and Illidan shook his head in exasperation. Ravencrest exhaled, then fell back onto the short bench he had been utilizing for a chair. Grasping an open flask of wine, he downed a good portion and rasped, “Tell me about that.”

Tyrande did, briefly recapping her discovery of assassins nearby, then her horror when she found out that Malfurion and Krasus had already ridden off to the woods. She and her sisters had raced like the proverbial wind after the pair, and had come upon them in the midst of a titanic struggle. The priestesses had charged in fully aware that they risked their own lives and a few had perished, but all had felt that Krasus and the druid were essential to the overall victory. No sacrifice was too great to keep them alive.

At this point, a slight snort escaped Illidan, but Ravencrest appeared most interested. He listened carefully to the details of the battle, and when Tyrande spoke of the demon with the whip, his eyes lit up.

“One of their commanders, surely, the leader of their assassins,” he noted.

“It seemed so. He was powerful, but Malfurion summoned the lightning from the heavens and slew him.”

“Well struck!” The noble seemed caught between admiration and frustration. “And exactly the reason why at least the druid should’ve returned to us! We need his power!”

“The Moon Guard and I will make up for his unpermitted absence,” Illidan insisted.

“It’ll have to, sorcerer. It’ll have to.” He put the flask aside and stared at the party, especially Rhonin. “Do I have the word of you, wizard, that you’ll not follow the path of your compatriot?”

“I want to see the Burning Legion defeated, Lord Ravencrest.”

“Hmmph! Not at all a satisfactory answer, but one I expected from one of your ilk. Captain Shadowsong…”

Swallowing, the younger night elf stepped forward and saluted. “Yes, my lord!”

“I at first considered having you punished severely for your failure to keep this band under control. However, the more I know of them, the less I can imagine anyone managing to do that. That you’ve kept them alive and intact this long speaks of your merits. Continue your task—so long as you still have anyone to watch, that is.”

It took a few seconds for the words to register with Jarod. When he realized that the noble had actually complimented him for surviving his time with the spellcasters, the officer quickly saluted again. “Yes, my lord! My thanks, my lord!”

“No…my sympathies to you.” Ravencrest leaned forward, reaching for one of the charts. “You are dismissed, all of you. You, too, Illidan.” He shook his head as he eyed the sheet and muttered, “Mother Moon, spare me from all spellcasters…”

Malfurion’s brother took his expulsion as if his patron had struck him full across the face with his gauntlet. Dipping his head in an aborted bow, the sorcerer followed the rest out of the commander’s tent.

Brox and Rhonin strode side by side, both silent. Tyrande walked with the captain, who still looked awed that he had departed with his head attached to his neck.

A hand touched the priestess’s shoulder. “Tyrande…”

The others moved on while she turned to face Illidan. Gone was his brief anger at being dismissed by his lord. Now he wore an intense expression akin to the last time that the pair had talked.

“Illidan? What—”

“I can’t stay quiet any longer! Malfurion’s terrible naïveté brings this on! This is the final straw! He’s grown reckless, undeserving of you!”

She tried to politely step away. “Illidan, it’s been a long, difficult—”

“Hear me out! I accepted his desire to learn this 'druidism’ because I understood his hopes to be different! I, of all people, understood my brother’s ambitions!”

“Malfurion is not—”

But again he would not let her finish. Amber eyes almost glowing, the sorcerer added, “This path he follows is erratic, dangerous! It is no saving grace! I know! He should’ve followed my path! The Well is the answer! See what I’ve accomplished in such a short time! The Moon Guard are mine to command and through them I’ve sent many a demon to death! Malfurion’s path leads only to his own destruction—and possibly yours, as well!”

“What could you mean by that?”

“I know you care for both of us, Tyrande, and we, in turn, feel much for you. One of us will be your intended, we all know that, but where once I was willing to stand aside and let you choose without influence, I can’t anymore!” He clutched her arm tightly. “I’ve got to protect you from Malfurion’s insanity! I say again that the Well of Eternity is the only true source of power that can save us! Even the priestesses of Elune cannot cast the spells that I do! Be mine, and I can protect you properly! Better yet, I can teach you as your temple never could, make you understand the might the Well can offer you! Together, we could be a force more formidable than all the Moon Guard combined, for we’d be one in spirit and body! We’d—”

“Illidan!” she suddenly snapped. “Recall yourself!”

He immediately released her, looking as if stabbed in the heart. “Tyrande—”

“You shame yourself with your words concerning your brother, Illidan, and make assumptions with no basis in fact! Malfurion has done everything he could to save all our lives and the path he’s chosen is a valued one! He may be the true survival of our kind, Illidan! The Well’s becoming tainted! The demons draw from it in just the same manner as you. What does that say?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You compare the demons with my work?”

“Malfurion would—”

“Malfurion!” he shouted, his countenance increasingly grim. “I see it now! What a bungler, what a buffoon I must seem to you!” He clenched his fist and raw energy flashed around it. “You’ve already chosen, Tyrande, even if you haven’t said so.”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort!”

“Malfurion…” Illidan repeated, teeth clenched tightly. “May the two of you be very happy…if we survive.”

He spun around and headed to where the Moon Guard had stationed themselves. Tyrande watched him stride away. A tear fell unbidden from her eye.

“Shaman?” came a voice from behind.

The priestess jumped. “Broxigar?”

The orc nodded solemnly. “He’s hurt you, shaman?”

“N-no…just a misunderstanding.”

Brox eyed Illidan’s receding backside. A low growl escaped the bestial warrior. “That one misunderstands much…and underestimates more.”

“I’m all right. Did you wish something?”

Shrugging, the orc answered, “Nothing.”

“You came back because I was with Illidan, didn’t you?”

“This unworthy one owes you much, shaman…and owes that one something more.”

The priestess’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Brox flexed his fingers, the same fingers that had been burned once by Illidan. “Is nothing, shaman. Is nothing.”

“Thank you for coming to my aid, Broxigar. I’ll be all right…and so will Malfurion. I know it.”

The orc grunted. “This humble one hopes so.”

But his eyes continued to watch Illidan closely.

Rhonin paused, watching the orc and the priestess talk. He understood perfectly why Brox had suddenly turned back to speak with Tyrande. Illidan’s affections for her had begun to border on obsession. The sorcerer had not seemed all that fearful for his brother’s life, and—from what the wizard could see—had been attempting to use Malfurion’s absence to further his own cause with Tyrande.

But the triangle among the three night elves was the least of Rhonin’s concerns. He was more preoccupied with what he had learned of the attack in the forest. While Rhonin was relieved that both Krasus and the druid had survived, their victory had, without meaning to, unnerved the human more than anything else since his arrival here.

They had battled Hakkar, the Houndmaster. Rhonin recalled that name with dread, for with his whip the foul demon could summon an endless pack of felbeasts, the scourge of any spellcaster. How many wizards from Dalaran had perished horribly because of the demon’s pets during the Legion’s second coming?

Yes, Rhonin had good reason to despair even hearing the Houndmaster’s name, but he feared something else even more.