The Well of Eternity (14 page)

Wherever the path narrowed most, the orc pushed himself through. The much larger felbeast had to go around the natural obstacles or, if it could, crash through them, allowing Brox to remain just out of reach. He despised the fact that he had to keep running, but without a weapon Brox knew his chances of defeating the monster were nonexistent.

A short distance away, the mournful call of a dying animal informed Brox that the panther had lost the battle and soon there would be
two
felbeasts out for the orc’s blood.

Distracted by the cat’s death cry, Brox did not watch his footing well enough. Suddenly a tree root seemed to rise just enough to catch his foot. He managed to keep from falling,

but his lack of true balance sent him spinning wildly to the side. He grasped at a slim, leafless tree only a head taller than himself, but the entire trunk broke away in his grip, sending him colliding with a much larger, sturdier one.

Head aching, Brox could barely focus on the oncoming behemoth. The small tree still in his hand, he swung it around and jabbed with it like a lance.

The demon hound swatted at the makeshift weapon, tearing away the top third and leaving jagged splinters on the end. Eyes still blurry, the orc held tight to what remained, then charged the monster.

The damage done by the felbeast gave the makeshift lance a deadliness it had not had prior. Shoving with all his might, Brox buried the sharp, fragmented end deep into the gaping jaws.

With a muffled howl of agony, the demon tried to fall back, but Brox advanced, his entire body straining as he pushed the lance deeper yet.

One of the tentacles reached for him. The orc released one hand, snagged the oncoming threat, and pulled as hard as he could.

With a moist, tearing sound, the tentacle came free.

Now much splattered with its own foul fluids, the felbeast’s front legs collapsed. Brox did not relinquish his hold on the tree, adjusting his position to match his adversary’s increasingly desperate movements.

The rear legs crumpled. Tail twitching frantically, the fearsome beast pawed at the obstruction in its gullet. It finally managed to snap Brox’s weapon in two, but the front portion remained lodged.

Aware that the felbeast might still recover, the orc searched frantically for something to replace his lost lance.

Instead, he found himself facing his first foe again.

The other felbeast had scars across its body and, in addition to the nose wound Brox had given it earlier, a chunk of flesh had been torn from the right shoulder. Still, despite its worsened condition, the beast looked more than healthy enough to finish off the exhausted orc.

Seizing a thick, broken branch, Brox brandished it like a sword. But he knew that his luck had come to an end. The limb was hardly strong enough to ward away the huge monstrosity.

Crouching, the felbeast tensed—

But as it jumped, the forest itself came alive in defense of Brox. The wild grass and weeds under the demonic creature sprouted madly, shooting up with such astonishing swiftness that they caught the felbeast just after it left the earth.

Limbs hopelessly entangled, the horrific creature snarled and snapped at the grass. Its twin tentacles stretched down, trying to touch the animated plant life that held it from its prey.

“Brox!”

Malfurion rode toward the orc, looking as weary as Brox felt. The night elf pulled up next to him and reached a hand down.

“I owe you again,” rumbled the veteran warrior.

“You owe me nothing.” Malfurion glanced at the trapped felbeast. “Especially since it looks as if that won’t hold him for very long!”

True enough, wherever the macabre tentacles touched the grass and weeds, the plants withered. One front paw had already been freed and even as the felbeast worked on liberating the rest, it strained to reach Brox and the night elf.

“Magic…” muttered Brox, recalling similar sights. “It’s devouring the magic…”

Face grim, Malfurion helped his companion aboard. The panther grunted, but did not otherwise protest the added weight. “Then, we’d better leave quickly.”

A horn sounded, this time so near that Brox almost ex pected to see the trumpeter. The pursuit from Suramar had almost caught up.

Suddenly, Malfurion hesitated. “They’ll ride right into that beast! If any of them are Moon Guard—”

“Magic can still slay a felbeast if there’s enough of it, night elf…but if you wish to stay and fight the creature with them, I will stand at your side.” That doing so would mean either his death or recapture, Brox did not add. He would not abandon Malfurion, who had already rescued him twice.

The morning fog had already begun to dissipate and vague figures could already be seen in the distance. Grip tightening on the reins, Malfurion abruptly turned the panther
away
from the felbeasts and the approaching riders. He said nothing to Brox, instead simply urging his mount to as quick a pace as it could set and leaving both threats behind.

Behind them, the demon freed another limb, its attention already seized by growing sounds heralding new prey…

Something stirred Rhonin from his slumber, something that made him very uneasy.

He made no immediate motion, instead his eyelids opening just enough to let him see a bit of the surrounding area. Glimpses of daylight enabled the wizard to make out the surrounding trees, the ominous line of flower sentinels, and the grass upon which he lay.

What Rhonin could not make out was any sign of Krasus.

He sat up, searching for the dragon mage. Surely Krasus had to be somewhere in the glade.

But after a thorough survey of the region, Krasus’s disappearance could no longer be denied.

Wary, the wizard rose and went to the edge of the glade. The flowers turned to face him, each bloom opening wide. Rhonin was tempted to see how powerful they were, but suspected that a demigod would hardly place them here if they could not readily deal with a mere mortal.

Eyeing the woods, Rhonin quietly called, “Krasus?”

Nothing.

Staring at the trees just beyond his prison, the wizard frowned. Something did not look the same, but he could not say exactly what.

He stepped back, trying to think…and suddenly noticed that he was in shadow.

“Where is the other one?” Cenarius demanded, no hint of kindliness in his tone. Although clear, the sky suddenly rumbled and a harsh wind came out of nowhere to swat the human. “Where is your friend?”

Facing the towering demigod, Rhonin kept his expression neutral. “I don’t know. I just woke up and he was gone.”

The antlered figure’s golden orbs flared and his frown sent chills down Rhonin’s spine. “There are troubling signs in the world. Some of the others have only just now sensed intruders, creatures not of any natural origin, sniffing around, seeking something—or
someone.”
He studied the wizard very closely. “And they come so soon after you and your friend drop from nowhere…”

What these unnamed creatures might be, Rhonin could only suspect. If so, he and Krasus had even less time than they had imagined.

Seeing that his “guest” had nothing yet to say, Cenarius added, “Your friend could not have escaped without assistance, but he leaves you behind. Why is that?”

“I—”

“There were those among the others who insisted that I should have given you to them immediately, that they would have found out through more thorough means than I prefer the reasons for your being here and what it is about you that so interests the night elves. I had, up until now, convinced them otherwise in this matter.”

Rhonin’s highly attuned senses suddenly detected the presence of another powerful force, one which, in its own way, matched Cenarius.

“Now I see I must acquiesce to the majority,” the lord of the forest finished reluctantly.

“We heard your call…” growled a deep, ponderous voice. “You admit you were wrong…”

The wizard tried to turn and see who now spoke, but his legs—his entire body—would not obey his commands.

Something more immense than the demigod moved up behind Rhonin.

Cenarius did not seem at all pleased by the other’s comments. “I admit only that other steps must be taken.”

“The truth will be known…” A heavy,
furred
hand with thick claws enveloped Rhonin’s shoulder, gripping it painfully. “…and known
soon…”

Y
ou should stay in the temple!” Illidan insisted.

“Malfurion thought that best and so do I!”

But Tyrande would not be swayed. “I have to know what’s happening! You saw how many rode in pursuit! If they captured them—”

“They won’t.” He squinted, the blinding sun not at all to his liking. He could feel his powers waning, feel the rush of magic fading. Illidan did not like such sensations. He savored magic in all its forms. That had been one reason he had even tried to follow the druidic path—that, and the fact that what Cenarius supposedly taught would not be affected by night or day.

They stood dangerously near the square, a place Tyrande had insisted upon returning to once matters had quieted down. The Moon Guard and the soldiers had ridden off after Malfurion, leaving only a pair of the former to inspect the cage for clues. That they had done, finding nothing to trace the culprits, just as Illidan had expected. In truth, he considered himself at least as proficient as any of the honored sorcerers, if not more.

“I should ride after—”

Would she never give in? “You do that and you’ll risk everyone! You want them to take that pet creature of yours to Black Rook Hold and Lord Ravencrest? For that matter, they might take us there as w—”

Illidan suddenly clamped his mouth shut. From the opposite end of the square now entered several armored riders…and in their lead, Lord Kur’talos Ravencrest himself.

It was too late to hide. As the night elven commander rode past, his dour gaze shifted first to Tyrande, then her companion.

At sight of Illidan, Ravencrest called a sudden halt.

“I know you, lad…Illidan Stormrage, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord. We met once.”

“And this?”

Tyrande bowed. “Tyrande Whisperwind, novice priestess of the temple of Elune…”

The mounted night elves respectfully made the sign of the moon. Ravencrest graciously acknowledged Tyrande, then turned his gaze once more to Illidan. “I recall our encounter. You were studying the arts, then.” He rubbed his chin. “You are not yet a member of the Moon Guard, are you?”

That Ravencrest would ask the question in such a way indicated that he already knew the answer. Clearly after their initial meeting he had kept an eye on Illidan, something that made the younger night elf both proud and extremely uneasy. He had done nothing he knew of to warrant bringing himself to the commander’s attention. “No, my lord.”

“Then you are free of some of their restrictions, aren’t you?” The restrictions to which the commander referred had to do with the oaths each sorcerer swore upon entering the fabled order. The Moon Guard was an entity unto its own and owed no loyalty to anyone save the queen…which meant that they were not at the beck and call of those such as Lord Ravencrest.

“I suppose I am.”

“Good. Very good. I want you to ride with us, then.”

Now both Tyrande and Illidan looked confused. Likely fearing for Illidan’s safety, the young priestess said, “My Lord Ravencrest, we would be honored—”

She got no farther. The night elven lord raised a polite hand to silence her. “Not you, sister, although the blessing of the Mother Moon is always welcome. No, ’tis the lad alone with whom I speak now.”

Trying not to show his increasing anxiety, Illidan asked, “But what would you have need of me for, my lord?”

“For the moment, investigation into the escape of the creature we had penned here! News came to me just moments ago of his escape. Assuming that he’s not been captured already, I’ve some notions as to how to find him. I might need the aid of a bit of sorcery, though, and while the Moon Guard are capable, I prefer someone who listens to orders.”

To refuse a request by a night elf as highly ranked as Ravencrest would have been suspicious, but joining him risked Malfurion. Tyrande glanced surreptitiously at Illidan, trying to read his thoughts. He, on the other hand, wished that she could tell him the best path to take.

In truth, there was only one choice. “I’d be honored to join you, my lord.”

“Excellent! Rol’tharak! A mount for our young sorcerer friend here!”

The officer in question brought forth a spare night saber, almost as if Ravencrest had expected Illidan all the time. The animal crouched low so that its new rider could mount up.

“The sun is well upon us, my lord,” Rol’tharak commented to Ravencrest as he handed down the reins of the beast to Malfurion’s brother.

“We will make do…as will you, eh, sorcerer?”

Illidan understood very well the veiled message. His pow ers would be weaker in daylight, but the commander was still confident that he would be of use. The confidence which Ravencrest had in him made Illidan’s head swell.

“I will not fail you, my lord.”

“Splendid, lad!”

As he slipped atop the panther, Illidan gave Tyrande a quick glance, indicating that she should not worry about Malfurion and the orc. He would ride with Ravencrest and aid in whatever way he could so long as the pair would still make good their escape.

Tyrande’s brief but grateful smile was all the reward he could have desired. Feeling quite good about himself, Illidan nodded to the commander that he was ready.

With a wave and a shout, Lord Ravencrest led the armed force on. Illidan leaned forward, determined to keep pace with the noble. Somehow he would please Ravencrest while at the same time keeping his altruistic brother from being sent to Black Rook Hold. Malfurion knew the forest lands well, which meant that he would likely stay ahead of the soldiers and Moon Guard, but in the awful chance that pursuit had caught up with Illidan’s twin and Tyrande’s creature, Illidan had to at least consider sacrificing Brox to save his brother. Tyrande would come to understand that. He would do what he could to avoid it, but blood came first…

As often happened, a morning fog draped over the landscape. The thick mist would break up soon, but it meant more hope for Malfurion. Illidan kept his gaze on the path ahead, wondering if it was the same one his brother had used. It might be that the Moon Guard had not even chosen the right direction, which meant that he and Lord Ravencrest now pursued a futile course of action.

But as they raced deeper and deeper into the wooded lands, the fog quickly gave way. The morning sun seemed as eager to drain Illidan of his power as it did to eat away the mist, but he gritted his teeth and tried not to think of what that might mean. If it came to some sort of show of sorcery, he had no intention of disappointing the noble. The hunt for the orc had become as much Illidan’s excuse to make new connections within the hierarchy of the night elf world as it had anything to do with the escape of Brox.

But just as they reached the top of a ridge, something farther down made Illidan frown and Lord Ravencrest curse. The commander immediately slowed his mount, the rest following suit. Ahead appeared to be a number of peculiar mounds scattered along the trail. The night elves cautiously descended the other side of the ridge, Ravencrest and the soldiers keeping their weapons ready. Illidan suddenly prayed that he had not overestimated his daytime skills.

“By the Blessed Azshara’s eyes!” muttered Ravencrest.

Illidan could say nothing. He could only gape at the carnage revealed as they drew near.

At least half a dozen night elves, including two of the Moon Guard, lay dead before the newcomers, their bodies torn to shreds and, in the case of the two sorcerers, seemingly
sucked dry
by some vampiric force. The two Moon Guard resembled nothing more than shriveled fruit left in the sun too long. Their emaciated forms were stretched in positions of the utmost agony and clearly they had struggled throughout their horrible ordeals.

Five night sabers also lay dead, some with their throats torn out, the others disemboweled. Of the remaining panthers, there was no sign.

“I was right!” Ravencrest snapped. “That green-hided creature was not alone! There must’ve been two dozen and more to do this…and with the Moon Guard along yet!”

Illidan paid him no mind, concerned more with what might have befallen Malfurion. This could not be the work of either his brother or one orc. Did Lord Ravencrest have the right of it? Had Brox betrayed Malfurion, leading him to his savage comrades?

I should’ve slain the beast when I had the opportunity!
His fist tightened and he felt his rage fuel his powers. Given a target, Illidan would have more than proved his sorcerous might to the noble.

Then one of the soldiers noticed something to the right of the carnage. “My lord! Come look! I’ve seen nothing like it!”

Steering their animals around, Illidan and Ravencrest stared wide-eyed at the beast the other night elf had found.

It was a creature out of nightmare, in some ways lupine in form, but monstrously distorted, as if some insane god had created it out of the depths of his madness. Even in death it lost no bit of its inherent horror.

“What do you make of it, sorcerer?”

For a moment, Illidan forgot that
he
was the fount of magical wisdom here. Shaking his head, he responded with all honesty, “I have no idea, Lord Ravencrest…no idea.”

However terrifying the monster was, someone had dealt hard with it, jamming a makeshift spear down its gullet and likely choking it to death.

Again Illidan’s thoughts turned to his brother, last known by him to be heading into this forest. Had Malfurion done this? It seemed unlikely. Did his twin instead lie nearby, torn apart as readily as the two Moon Guard?

“Very curious,” Ravencrest muttered. He suddenly straightened, looking around. “Where are the rest of the first party?” he demanded to no one in particular. “There should be twice as many as we found!”

As if to answer that, a mournful horn blast arose from the south, where the forest dropped abruptly, becoming more treacherous to traverse.

The commander pointed his blade in the direction of the horn blast. “That way…but be wary…there may be more of those monsters about!”

The party worked their way down, each member, Illidan included, watching the thickening forest with trepidation. The horn did not sound again, not at all a good sign.

Several yards down, they came across another night saber, its entire side opened up by savage claws, its back also broken by the two huge oaks into which it had crashed. Only a short distance away, another of the Moon Guard lay pressed against a massive rock, his emaciated body and his horrified expression chilling even the hardened soldiers of Lord Ravencrest.

“Steady…” the noble quietly ordered. “Keep order…”

Once more, the horn sounded feebly, this time much closer and directly ahead.

The newcomers wended their way toward it. Illidan had the horrible feeling that something watched him in particular, but whenever he looked around, he saw only the trees.

“Another one, my lord!” the night elf called Rol’tharak blurted, pointing just ahead.

Sure enough, a second hellish beast lay dead, its body sprawled as if even in dying it had sought another victim. In addition to a crushed nose and a shoulder torn apart, it had several strange, ropelike marks on its legs. What had slain it, however, were a number of well-aimed thrusts to its throat by night elven blades. One still remained embedded in the beast.

They found two more soldiers nearby, the highly trained warriors of the realm tossed about like rag dolls. Illidan’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. If the night elves had managed to slay both monsters, then where were the survivors?

Moments later, they found what remained.

One soldier sat propped against a tree, his left arm torn free. A poor attempt had been made to bandage the immense wound. He stared without seeing at the new arrivals, the horn still in his one remaining hand. Blood covered his torso.

Next to him lay the other to survive—if to survive meant to have half of one’s face ripped apart and one leg twisted under at an impossible angle. His breathing was ragged, his chest barely rising each time.

“You there!” Ravencrest bellowed to the one with the horn. “Look at me!”

The survivor blinked slowly, then forced his gaze to that of the noble.

“Is this it? Are there any more?”

The mauled fighter opened his mouth, but no sound escaped it.

“Rol’tharak! Look to his wounds! Give him water if he needs it!”

“Aye, my lord!”

“The rest of you fan out! Now!”

Illidan remained with Ravencrest, watching warily as the others established what they hoped would be a safe perimeter. That so many of their fellows, including three spellcasters, had been so easily massacred did nothing for morale.

“Speak up!” Ravencrest roared. “I command you! Who was responsible for this? The escaped prisoner?”

At this, the bloody soldier let out a wild laugh, startling Rol’tharak so much that he stepped back.

“N-never saw that one, m-my lord!” the maimed figure responded. “Probably all eaten up h-himself!”

“So it was those monsters, then? Those hounds?”

The stricken night elf nodded.

“What happened to the Moon Guard? Why didn’t they stop the things? Surely even in the daytime—”

And again the wounded soldier laughed. “M-my lord! The sorcerers were the easiest of the p-prey…”

Through effort, the story came out. The soldiers and the Moon Guard had pursued the escaped creature and another, unidentified figure through the forest, following their tracks even through fog and the coming sun. They had not actually seen the pair, but had been certain that it would only be a matter of time before they caught up.

Then, unexpectedly, they had come across the first beast.

No one had ever seen anything like it. Even dead it had unnerved the night elves. Hargo’then, the lead sorcerer, had sensed something magical about it. He had commanded the rest to wait a few paces behind him while he rode up to investigate the corpse. No one had argued.

“An unnatural thing,” Hargo’then had proclaimed as he had begun to dismount. “Tyr’kyn…” he had called to one of the other Moon Guard. “I want you to—”

That was when the second beast had fallen upon him.