'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 naпvetй 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.
He feared Hakkar's death, here in the past.
The Houndmaster had perished in the future. The demon had survived the war against the night elves.
But not this time. This time, Hakkar had been slain…which now meant the future was certain to be different.
Which now meant that this first war, despite the slaying of a most powerful demon, could definitely be lost.
The hippogriffs soared over the landscape, cutting away the miles with each heavy beat of their vast wings. Though they could not fly as swiftly as a dragon, few other creatures could match them. The animals lived for flying, and Krasus felt their excitement as they raced each other over hills, rivers, and forest.
Born to the sky, the dragon mage lifted his face to the wind, savoring the sensation now forbidden him because of his transformation. He smiled as an unbidden memory of his first flight with Alexstrasza returned to
