The Well of Eternity

12

“You 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.

“It came from out behind the nearest trees, m-my lord…and went directly for…for Hargo’then! S-slew his mount with one swipe of the c-claws and th-then…”

The sorcerer had no chance. Before the startled night elves could react, two horrific tentacles on the creature’s back had thrust out, adhering themselves like leeches to Hargo’then’s chest and forehead. The Moon Guard leader screamed as no night elf had ever heard one of their own scream and before their eyes he had suddenly shriveled into a dry, limp husk quickly discarded by the slavering, four-legged monstrosity.

Finally recovering from their shock, the other night elves belatedly charged the beast, seeking at least to avenge Hargo’then’s death.

Too late they realized that they were also being hunted from behind by a third beast. The attackers had become the attacked, caught between twin demonic forces.

The resulting carnage had been clear for the newcomers to see. The Moon Guard had perished swiftly, their weakened magical abilities actually making them much more attractive prey. The soldiers had fared little better, but at least their blades had some effect on the demons.

As the survivor finished his tale, he grew less coherent. By the time he reached the conclusion, where he and three others had banded together at this spot, it was all Lord Ravencrest and Illidan could do to understand his ramblings.

Rol’tharak looked up. “He’s passed out again, my lord. I fear he may not be waking up again.”

“See what you can do for him to ease his pain. Check that other one, too.” The noble frowned. “I want another look at that first carcass. Sorcerer, attend me.”

Illidan followed Ravencrest back along the trail. Two guards broke off from their duties to follow the pair. The other soldiers continued to survey the area, trying unsuccessfully to find any more survivors.

“What do you make of the story?” the veteran commander asked of Illidan. “Have you heard of such things?”

“Never, my lord…but I am not part of the Moon Guard and so not privy to all their arcane knowledge.”

“For all the good their knowledge did them! Hargo’then was always too confident! Most of the Moon Guard are!”

Illidan gave a noncommittal noise.

“Here it is…”

The macabre beast looked as if it still sought to remove the wedge from its throat. Despite the open wounds it bore, the creature was bereft of any eager scavengers, even flies. Even the forest life seemed repelled by the dead intruder.

To the two soldiers, Ravencrest commanded, “Check the path we took. See if the trail the first party and ours followed continues on. I still want that green-skinned brute…more than ever now!”

As the other two rode on, both Illidan and the noble dismounted, the latter also unsheathing his blade. The night sabers were not at all keen on remaining so near the carcass, so their riders led them to a thick tree a short distance away and tied the reins to it.

Once back at the corpse, Lord Ravencrest knelt down. “Simply horrid! In all my years, I’ve never faced such a thing so well designed for carnage…” He lifted a leathery tentacle. “Curious appendage. So this is what the other used to suck Hargo’then dry! What do you make of it?”

Trying not to back away from the foul limb thrust in his face, Illidan managed, “V-vampiric in nature, my lord. Some animals drink blood, but this one seeks magical energy.” He looked around. “The other’s been torn off.”

“Yes, so it has. Likely by an animal…”

While the noble continued his gruesome examination, Illidan considered the monstrosity’s death. The soldier reported that this first one had been dead already. To the young night elf’s quick mind, that meant the only ones who could have slain it were Malfurion and Brox…and judging by the physical struggle that had taken place, Illidan would have placed his bet more on the powerful orc.

Off to the side, the cats grew increasingly virulent in their protests at being so near the creature. Illidan tried to shut out the sounds of their hissing, still concerned about his brother. They had sighted no other corpses save those of the first party and the second of the three beasts mentioned, but—

Head snapping up straight, Illidan said, “My Lord Ravencrest! We never found any sign of the—”

The snarls of the night sabers reached a new crescendo.

Illidan sensed something behind him.

He threw himself to the side, accidentally colliding with the unsuspecting noble. Both fell flat to the ground, the younger night elf sprawled haphazardly over the commander. Ravencrest’s sword flew wildly, landing far beyond either’s reach.

The huge, clawed form that had just leapt at Illidan went sailing over the carcass of its twin.

“What in the name of—” Ravencrest managed. The night sabers struggled to attack, but their reins held, keeping the cats from being any aid.

Recovering first, Illidan looked up to see the hellish creature turning to attempt a second strike. He had thought the dead one terrifying enough, but to see one alive and bearing down on him nearly made Illidan flee in utter panic.

But instead of leaping again, the canine horror suddenly lashed at Illidan with the two tentacles atop its back. Memories of the husks that had once been powerful members of the Moon Guard filled the night elf’s mind.

Yet, as the gaping appendages sought his magic, sought his very body, self-preservation took over. Recalling how one tentacle on the dead beast had been ripped free, Illidan quickly devised a plan of attack.

He did not try to strike the monster directly, knowing how little that would probably help. It would simply suck up Illidan’s spell and perhaps continue draining him directly. Instead, Illidan chose to cast his spell on Lord Ravencrest’s lost blade, which lay out of his hellish foe’s sight.

The animated sword rose swiftly in the air and began to spin, whirling faster and faster. Illidan directed it at the creature’s back, aiming for the parasitic appendages.

With pinpoint accuracy, the whirling blade shot across the shoulders of the toothy behemoth, severing both tentacles as simply as it could have shaved a blade of grass.

With a maddened howl, the houndlike beast shook, thick, greenish fluids spilling over its shoulders and down its backside. It snarled, its unsettling gaze narrowing on the one who had hurt it so.

Emboldened by his success and less fearful now that the danger to his sorcery had been eliminated, Illidan directed Ravencrest’s sword back again. As the monster leapt at him, the young night elf smiled darkly at it.

With a force magnified by his intense will, he buried the weapon in the creature’s hard skull.

The monster’s leap faltered. It stumbled awkwardly. A glazed look filled the horrific orbs. The massive beast took two hesitant steps toward Illidan…then crumpled in a limp heap.

An incredible exhaustion overcame the young night elf, but one mixed with a sense of extreme satisfaction and triumph. He had done with little hesitation what three of the Moon Guard had failed to do. That he had learned from their mistakes, Illidan did not care. He only knew that by himself he had taken on a demon and won handily.

“Well done!” A heavy slap on his back nearly sent him stumbling into his monstrous foe. As Illidan fought to maintain his balance, Lord Ravencrest stepped past him to admire his companion’s work. “A splendid counterattack! Remove the greatest danger, then strike the death blow while the enemy tries to recoup! Splendid!”

The noble put one boot on a forelimb of the demon and struggled to remove his blade. From the trail rode the two guards and further behind Illidan, others shouted as realization of the threat finally sank in among the rest of the party.

“My lord!” shouted one of the two guards. “We heard—”

Rol’tharak rushed up. “Lord Ravencrest! You slew one of the beasts! Are you injured?”

Illidan expected Ravencrest to take credit—after all, the noble’s weapon still pierced the monster’s head—but instead the elder night elf stretched forth his hand and indicated Malfurion’s brother. “Nay! Here stands the one who, after risking himself to throw me from the creature’s path, readily disposed of the danger with scarcely a concern for his own life! I saw right about you from the first, Illidan Stormrage! More capable than a dozen Moon Guard you are!”

Cheeks darkening, the young night elf accepted the accolades of the powerful commander. Years of hearing how he was expected to be a hero, a champion of his people, had set a heavy load on his shoulders. Yet, now, Illidan felt as if his destiny had finally revealed itself…and it had done so with the innate sorcery he had almost rejected for the slower, more subtle druidic spells Cenarius had been teaching.

I was a fool to reject my heritage, Illidan realized. Malfurion’s path was never meant to be mine. Even in daytime, night elven sorcery is mine to command…

It heartened him, actually, for he had felt strange taking up the ways of his brother. What hero of legend had been recorded following the footsteps of another? Illidan had been meant to lead.

The soldiers—Lord Ravencrest’s capable, veteran soldiers—eyed him with a new and healthy respect.

“Rol’tharak!” the noble called. “I feel luck is with me this day! I want you to lead half the warriors on after the trail! We may still find the prisoner and whoever released him! Go now!”

“Aye, my lord!” Rol’tharak summoned several soldiers, then, after all had mounted, led them in the direction Malfurion and Brox had likely gone.

Illidan scarcely thought of his brother, already assuming that the delay here had given Malfurion all the time he needed to lose his pursuers. He did think of Tyrande, however, who would not only be quite pleased by what she would see as his having delayed the hunters but also would be rightly impressed by the high praise Lord Ravencrest had bestowed upon him.

And it seemed that the noble had more to bestow upon the one he thought had saved his life. Striding up to Illidan, Ravencrest put one gauntleted hand on the other night elf’s shoulder, then declared, “Illidan Stormrage, the Moon Guard may be ignorant of your prowess, but I am not. You are hereby marked as one of Black Rook Hold’s own…and my personal sorcerer! As such, you’ll be of a rank outside of the Moon Guard, equal to any of their own and unable to be commanded by any of their order! You will answer only to me and to your queen, the Light of Lights, Azshara!”

The rest of the night elves put their left hands to their chests and dipped their heads in homage at the mention of the queen.

“I am—honored—my lord…”

“Come! We ride back immediately! I want to gather a larger force to bring these carcasses to Black Rook Hold! This must be investigated thoroughly! If we’re to be invaded by some hellish horde, we must learn everything we can, then alert her majesty!”

Caught up in his euphoria, Illidan paid scant attention to any mention of Azshara. Had he done so, he might have had at least some slight concern, for it was because of her that Malfurion had dared the wrath of his brother’s new patron. She it was who Malfurion insisted was involved in madness that might prove catastrophic to the entire night elf race.

But for the moment, all Illidan could think was, I have found my destiny at last…