(AN: So this chapter ended up being longer than I thought it was, and contains a LOT. Mostly some stuff about the Kirin Tor and other things. Another thing that comes up in this chapter is a criticism of one of the things that Garrosh and his fanboys love to use as a defense for his indefensible actions. They criticize Thrall for not killing Gallywix and leaving him in charge of the goblins, and yet Garrosh never does this. Garrosh himself whines in his death during Warlords of Draenor how he had to "pick up the pieces of your mess", which I don't see. What mess did Thrall leave to Garrosh? Before Garrosh, the Horde was strong [despite Sylvanas in the dog house for causing the Wrathgate], Cairne Bloodhoof was alive, the Barrens were safely under the Horde's control, and there was relative peace. Then Garrosh becomes Warchief and breaks the Horde up by throwing all the non-Orcs out of Orgrimmar, treating Vol'jin like crap, killing Cairne, letting the Alliance destroy Camp Taurahe, and starting all-out war. Literally, he took what Thrall made, broke it, blamed Thrall for it, and all of his fanboys - like Bellular, Nobbel, Taliesin, and all of you - are just kissing up to him as if he were the devil herself.)
(Also in regard to what happens in this chapter, I wonder if I should increase the rating.)
Secrets
The Gnome and Draenei arrived shortly in Ratchet, the little goblin-owned and run town on the eastern shores of Kalimdor. Once the town materialized around them, they made their way to the stable-master. They placed Leshara's drake and Bart's flying machine in the care of this little goblin, whom Bart had to swat away from inspecting his vessel. Before they left, Bart double-checked his machine and locked the engine and the fuel tank before hiding the keys in a magically-enlarged pocket of his.
"You can't trust these goblins for anything," he whispered to Leshara as they left the stable-master.
They made their way to the inn in Ratchet, where they paid for rooms for four (almost double the prices that such a room would cost in Stormwind), and then got for themselves food and drink. It was indeed a comical sight: the tall, slender Draenei warrior sitting at a small table drinking ale while a little Gnome sat upon the table, playfully conjuring magical foods to eat with his Steamwheedle Wagonbomb. For a while, they were mostly silent, except for Leshara giggling at the little Gnome's antics.
"So, then," Bart asked after a while. "Where shall we be going next?"
"We'll wait until Melissa and your ward get back from Felwood," Leshara said. "Then we'll find a way back to talk to the Blood Elves. They might be able to tell us more about Illidan."
Bart nodded. "I'm not so sure about him."
"Neither am I," Leshara said.
"I still don't entirely agree with the Kirin Tor having him involved in all of their secret meetings," Bart continued. "It's making me very uneasy."
"What Maiev said about his blindness," Leshara added. "It does not seem wise."
"You know," Bart began. "I've been thinking a lot about the Kirin Tor. The more I think about it, the less I trust them. Maybe it's always been this way, this whole 'knowledge is power' thing they teach."
"Teach?" Leshara asked. "I thought they just controlled Dalaran."
"Oh, they do," said Bart. "But it's a lot different. Originally, they were a sect of arcanology within Dalaran. By the time of the Third War, they ruled Dalaran as much as the Council of Six. Like with every sect, the Kirin Tor have their own beliefs which, originally, were not held by all in Dalaran, but have now come to be the accepted truth."
"What beliefs are these?" Leshara asked.
"That power is incorruptible," Bart continued. "That Light and Shadow are equals, two sides of the same coin. That the end justifies the means. For instance, since we've been investigating the Third War, let me tell you something that the Kirin Tor would like everyone to forget. Recently, they've been all about tolerance, even at the cost of endangering countless peoples. But during the aftermath of the Third War, when Lord Othmar Garithos imprisoned Kael'thas and the Blood Elves, they were more than willing to allow him to use the Violet Hold and their jailers to imprison the Blood Elves."
"I never knew you cared about the Blood Elves," Leshara added with a sour grimace.
"Not particularly," Bart added. "They were never very open or friendly when they were High Elves, and they were fools for abandoning the Alliance on account of one man's actions. But that's not my point."
"Well, what is your point?"
"Politics, my friend," Bart stated. "The Kirin Tor were in shambles after the Third War, when the Burning Legion destroyed Dalaran. They needed any help that they could get, and Garithos was exactly that. So if they had to look the other way, or even help him imprison the Blood Elves, in order to keep his protection, they were willing to do just that. The end justifies the means, you know."
"I see," Leshara nodded.
"Which is why it was absurd," Bart continued. "That the Kirin Tor professed moral outrage over the destruction of Theramore and drove the Blood Elves out of Dalaran, only to let them back in. Then again, one shouldn't look to the Kirin Tor for morality. They've been known to breed more than a few crazies over the years. Kel'thuzad, for one example; Normantis for another."
"Then what would you propose, then?" Leshara asked. "A change in leadership of the Kirin Tor?"
"I don't know," Bart sighed. "The Blue Dragonflight might have been an option, but Malygos is dead and Senegos doesn't have long to live either. The age of dragons is coming to an end."
Leshara lowered her head in sadness. She was among the group of adventurers and heroes in Val'sharah who were witnesses to the death of Ysera the Green. Furthermore, as she had been part of the Nexus War, due to her part in the Northrend Campaign, and was also present during the events leading up to the destruction of Deathwing, she saw firsthand the death of Malygos, the future prophesied death of Nozdormu, and the fall of the Earth-Warder. Only Alexstrasza remained of the original Dragon Aspects.
Bart, meanwhile, conjured a croissant, threw it up into the air and caught it in his mouth. Leshara grinned and let out a quiet chuckle. After taking a bite, Bart removed the croissant and levitated butter from their table into his hands.
"By the way, old girl," he continued. "Remind me to magically secure our doors when we go to sleep tonight. No telling what those goblins might do when we're asleep."
"Definitely," Leshara nodded.
Neither of them were very trusting of goblins, but Bart Manafizzle the most; the rivalry between goblins and gnomes was the stuff of legend. But despite this, Bart was on his toes, being in a goblin-ran town such as Ratchet. The Trade Princes ran the city, where profit was king. If the Kirin Tor were corrupt, then corruption was the rule of law in the goblin towns. For all of his bluster about picking up the pieces of Thrall's Horde, Garrosh Hellscream never addressed the corruption among the Bilgewater Cartel, which had joined the Horde under his rule. Trade Prince Gallywix had the power of the purse over the meat-headed former Warchief, and therefore he was allowed to run the towns under his control, or that owed protection money to him, as he saw fit.
As for Sylvanas, her efforts were directed at the front-lines in Stormheim, and so she left things in Kalimdor as they had been. Exploitation of every kind was the rule in these places, and Ratchet was no exception. With the right amount of coin, a person could get anything. Even practices as dishonorable as money laundering, prostitution, and even assassination were available to those who knew where to look. Manafizzle and Leshara knew this, and were therefore wary about the safety of this place. They had chosen this spot as it was within reasonable distance to Felwood, and from here they could take a ship to the Broken Isles if they wished to return to Dalaran.
Once they had finished their food and drink, Bart led the way to their rooms. As they were walking up the stairs to the upper rooms, they saw a troll and an orc talking to a goblin maiden in rather revealing garb. Bart made a gagging noise into his fist before pushing open the door into their room. Four beds were waiting for them inside, with one for each of them; the beds for Melissa and Fizzie would be waiting for them when they arrived.
"So what happens now?" he asked as he leaped onto the bed that was his; clearly made for people bigger than gnomes or goblins.
"Now we wait for Melissa and your ward to arrive," Leshara replied.
"Well, as long as we don't have any trouble with the locals, that will be just fine with me," Bart said as he doffed his hat and conjured up a pair of pajamas for himself.
"I'm a little worried about sharing a room with you," Leshara stated. "You are, after all, a man."
"Don't you worry," Bart said. "On my honor, I will not lay a finger on you."
"Just the same," Leshara replied. "I would be more comfortable if the ladies were here." The Draenei woman examined the metal rings that were nailed into her hooves; humans called them horse-shoes, but she was not a horse and her hooves still wore down on hard surfaces, as it was with all Draenei, and so she wore hoof-shoes. After a while, she stretched herself upon the bed.
"Ugh, I think that ale is starting to go to my head," Leshara sighed. "Bart?"
"Hmm?" the little Gnome replied.
"Have you ever thought about you and your ward...being something more?" she asked.
"More than what we are now?" Bart asked. "Not really, no. But it will be something nice to think about. What about you? Is there a strong male Draenei waiting for you on the Exodar somewhere? Someone with a broad chest, big muscles, a rock-like forehead, and many chin tentacles?"
Leshara sighed. "There was. But I'd rather not talk about it." She threw her head upon the pillow, then turned to look at Bart. "And they're called tendrils."
The Draenei began removing her armor while the Gnome pulled open the blankets of his bed to prepare to crawl inside them. Though their own minds were preoccupied with this and that, often their thoughts drifted to their companions far away in the woods to the northwest, if they found what they sought, if all was well for them, and how soon they would be returning to them.
Fizzie slowly awoke from slumber to find Melissa kneeling beside a camp-fire in the woods that were definitely not those of Val'sharah. The fire was burning, but a brighter light was blazing from the floating Naaru effigy upon her staff. The little Gnome shut her eyes at the sudden brightness, and immediately wondered what it was she had missed since she last fell asleep. She did not have to ponder on this for long, however. The darkness around them was filled with noises. There was the rushing of hooves and mocking, guttural voices that growled and clicked and hissed at them. In the distance, rustling leaves made the noises sound even greater and more numerous; they seemed to be surrounded.
"What's going on?" Fizzie asked.
"Satyrs," Melissa answered. "They came for us just as night fell. Draw your sword and stand your ground, we may yet have to fight them off."
Fizzie drew her sword and eyed the shadows for movement. Looking around, she saw that the Gilnean woman was lying fast asleep, her eyes shut and seemingly unaware of what was going on. Melissa, meanwhile, was kneeling down, muttering quietly to herself, with one hand upon the staff that stood now fast into the ground. Light was glowing from it seemed to keep the satyrs at bay, for just on the edges of its reach, Fizzie could see furry hands, hairy, bearded faces with yellow eyes, and long goat-horns looming out of the gloom. It seemed that they saw her as well, for she could hear laughing and voices speaking in the Common Tongue. Perhaps they wanted to fill this little Gnome, so easy a prey as they thought, with dread for her impending doom.
"It's only a little gnome," laughed one of the satyrs. "They will be easy prey."
"Delicious prey!" another added with a slavering sound, as if licking its hairy lips.
"Ugh!" Fizzie retched. "Over our dead bodies!"
"I'll take that as an invitation, then!" one of the satyrs said.
A large hairy figure leaped out of the shadows and lunged towards Fizzie. But, like a human child in the fullness of its newfound strength, Fizzie was too fast to be caught by the larger satyr. A large hairy paw reached for her, and she ducked under and rolled between its legs. Then, to anger her opponent, she seized hold of the satyr's tail. The large, hairy beast flailed about, trying to swat away the tiny nuisance with its large, clawed hands.
"It's a lowly gnome, brother!" one of the other satyrs taunted. "How difficult can it be to kill it?"
"What's the worst it can do to you, bite your ankles?" asked another with a laugh.
But Fizzie was making havoc of the satyr, as she held on to its tail. A swift hoof-kick to the head suddenly sent her flying backwards and onto the ground, squealing in pain. The satyr let out a bleating, mocking laugh then leaped at the little fallen Gnome. Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of white light that stabbed out lance-like at the satyr, striking it in the stomach while it was in mid-air. The spear of light threw him to the ground, coughing up black blood.
"Begone, creatures of shadow!" a voice echoed in command.
Melissa was now standing on her feet, her staff in her hand and her eyes blazing with Holy Light. In the blaze, the shapes of the satyrs could clearly be seen. Most of them were cowering in their madness, pawing the ground with their hooves and braying one to another. But their leader was glaring at Melissa; a wicked grin was upon his face, one no different than that which Xavius bore when he corrupted Ysera. Or, for that matter, no different than that upon Illidan's face as he mocked the Prophet.
"Foolish woman!" mocked the satyr. "Do you not know? The shadows reach out from the Nameless Void to take your world. Your precious Light cannot save you. Nothing will save you from what I'm about to do." The satyr licked his lips and cackled at her.
But his laughter died in his throat as an arrow pierced through his throat. Another struck him in the groin and a third through the heart, then he fell dead upon the ground. The others looked about wildly, wondering where this new attacker came from. Two arrows came whistling out of the shadows, striking one satyr in the eye and another in the leg. The one-eyed satyr scrambled off, crying "Madness! The Nightmare Lord is dead! Madness take us all!" and was seen no more. The wounded one tried to limp away to safety, but a figure leaped out of the shadows, landing feet first upon the satyr and shooting an arrow through the back of its neck; the arrow-head came bloodily out of its mouth.
Slowly the Light began to recede, appearing now as a soft glow given off by the staff. Melissa's eyes were no longer shining, and now she could clearly see her rescuer. A familiar face stood before her, belonging to a tall Night Elf woman draped in leather and fur and wielding a bow.
"Ishnu alah, Melissa Redmane," the Night Elf greeted.
"Jenassa!" Melissa greeted. "It's been a long time. What brings you here? I thought you were in Ashenvale, fighting the Horde."
"And so I have been," said Jenassa. "But yesterday, a few hours ago, your druid companion encountered me while I was on my hunt. She told me of your mission to Felwood, and I asked for leave to come here. Felwood is a dangerous place, especially at night. The satyrs have always been a threat, even to my sisters and I."
"Thank you," Melissa said. "Your arrival was most timely."
"Hardly," lamented Jenassa. "Had we been here on time, those satyrs would never have thought to attack you." Jenassa walked over to the two dead satyrs and removed her arrows.
"They are a grim reminder of the sins of our past," she said. "We hunt them when we find them, but in the past, it has not been so easy. The first satyrs were corrupted by Xavius, the first of their kind, and they spread this curse to others of our race. Over ten thousand years, the curse lost its strength and we could no longer be corrupted by it. Nevertheless, they harass our sisters, pollute and corrupt our forests, and drive innocent beasts to madness." After removing the last of her arrows, she brought Fizzie over to Melissa's side, who examined where the satyr's hoof had hit her head. Jenassa made a quick count, then swore in Darnassian.
"One of them got away," she continued. "There may be more of them this night. Where were you headed?"
"After our business was concluded here," Melissa answered. "We were making for Ratchet."
"That is a dangerous journey," Jenassa commented. "The empty plains of the Northern Barrens are Horde territory, and it will be many miles from the eaves of Ashenvale to the coast." She mused quietly for a moment, hesitating between duty and an old acquaintance.
"You will not wish," Jenassa said at last. "To stay in Felwood any longer with those satyrs about. If you would be ruled by me, you will pack up everything and come with me. My sisters and I can escort you safely through Ashenvale under the cover of darkness and have you at the eaves by morning."
"What about her?" Melissa asked, gesturing to Lucilla.
"She appears to be waking up now as we speak," Jenassa stated.
Lucilla softly sighed and lifted her dark head from where it rested. She gave a start at the appearance of the stranger, and she began to transform; but the hair on her neck and the claw-like finger-nails receded when she saw that it was a Night Elf. As soon as she had her wits about her, she told Melissa all that she had seen within the Emerald Dream regarding the battle here and Illidan Stormrage. Melissa's face blanched when she heard about Kil'jaeden and the Lich King.
She stammered as she spoke. "Are you sure about what you saw?"
"Yes," Lucilla nodded. "Kil'jaeden ordered Illidan to destroy the Lich King." She made a wiry smirk. "But that means little to us, doesn't it? The Lich King is dead, and was not Kil'jaeden defeated in the Tomb of Sargeras?"
Melissa nodded; the demon-lord Kil'jaeden had been defeated in the depths of the ruin that had once been the Temple of Elune. But as for the Lich King, it was indeed a dark matter. She had been joined the Argent Crusade as a healer, after the Wrathgate devastated the manpower of the Horde and the Alliance, and she had been among those who had fought and defeated the Lich King atop the Frozen Throne. As for what had happened that fateful day atop Icecrown Glacier, she could not tell. Those who had survived the assault swore an oath of silence regarding the terrible things that had happened and which they had seen; so far, Melissa had broken that oath only to her husband, from whom she kept no secrets.
But now those secrets were cause for a truly threatening thought. There was one person she could talk to about this; one of those who had sworn the oath.
Jenassa, meanwhile, had been standing guard, keeping watch. Nevertheless, she heard everything that had gone on. Melissa turned to her with her decision, but saw a look of disapproval upon the Night Elf's face.
"You came here seeking news about the Betrayer?" she asked.
"Yes," Melissa replied.
"He and his Illidari are pretentious fools," Jenassa replied. "Always whining like infants about how unfair the druids were to them, about how much they've supposedly 'sacrificed' for the safety of Azeroth: as if we have sacrificed nothing! We gave up our immortality to destroy the Legion at the Battle of Hyjal, yet they esteem that sacrifice as though it were nothing?! And what have they sacrificed their supposed 'everything' for? Power! Power for themselves, the very power that broke our world. What's more, they have used that power to corrupt the forest. Satyrs like these serve them, and other, more foul, creatures. Every action they have done threatens our world."
"I understand," Melissa nodded; the verity of Jenassa's words sinking in deeper amid her thoughts about the Northrend campaign.
"Now, then," Jenassa interjected. "I ask that you make your decision and make it fast. The night is not very young, and these satyrs will return. Will you remain here or take my advice?"
"Alright," Melissa said at last, after a thoughtful pause. "We'll go by night. The sooner we reach Ratchet, the better."
"Say no more," Jenassa returned.
"Then I suppose this is where we part ways," Lucilla stated.
"What? You're leaving?"
"Yes," Lucilla nodded. "I've never been fond of the company of others, even before the curse. Now that I've shown you what happened here, I must be on my way back to the Dreamgrove." She bowed her head in respect to Melissa, then turned to Jenassa. "The Scythe be with you, Night Elf."
"Elune light your path, Worgen sister," Jenassa said in farewell.
The druid then turned her back on the little group and disappeared into the night. As for those who remained, Melissa whistled into the night. From out of the darkness there came an answer, and her owl-seeker appeared from out of the trees. Jenassa whispered words in Darnassian into the night and a large nightsaber walked out at her command. The human and the Night Elf together lifted Fizzie onto the back of the nightsaber, then the two of them took off southward at a swift pace. Melissa blinked and rubbed her eyes, fighting off the urge to sleep that was coming back to her after the rush of the satyr attack.
All through the night the two of them fled swiftly, down unseen paths that only the Night Elves knew, from ten thousand years of walking these forests. Melissa fought off sleep every minute and every hour; in her mind, she went over the events that had happened in order that she would have a plan once she arrived at Ratchet. She would, of course, tell Leshara about what had happened, as well as privately talk to her about the oath. Since they were near a port, she hoped that she might purchase a ship that would take them back to the Eastern Kingdoms, particularly to Light's Hope chapel. The attack by her old friend reminded her of how close she had been to being taken away from her children. She needed to see them again, and she knew that Hannah, her eldest daughter, named for her old friend, was at Light's Hope in training to become a Paladin.
It was against her wishes.
But as for her old friend, she remembered the knife that rested within the bag slung over her shoulder. She would have to find someone who could discern it. Perhaps they could help her learn about what the bearer of the knife had seen regarding the Desolate Council; quite a long shot, but it was no strange thing for items to be used for divining purposes by the shaman of the Dwarves and Draenei.
The night wore on and weariness grew stronger within her. She wondered if she would be able to stay awake throughout the whole night. Furthermore, she knew that there was still a long way to go yet before she reached Ratchet. Whether by land or by air, she would be an easy target for any Horde scouts within the Barrens. She hoped that she could stay awake long enough to keep the three of them - herself, Fizzie, and her seeker - safe from harm.
At last the trees began to grow thin and pale dawn could be seen in the east, as a sliver of orange upon the horizon. The two of them passed out from the eaves of the forest, and Jenassa helped place Fizzie upon the back of Melissa's owl-seeker. Even then, afar off was heard the beating sounds of drums.
"Listen," Jenassa commented. "Orcish drums greet the coming of the day. There will be battle."
"Is there not always battle here?" Melissa sighed.
"It cannot last forever," Jenassa returned. "The druids' powers over nature has decreased; even one so mighty as Shan'do Stormrage cannot unmake the damage to Ashenvale that the Horde's deforestation has caused. Now we hear that an undead Quel'dorei rules the Horde as their Warchief. They have an ancient grudge with my people over their refusal to give up the magic that destroyed our world during the War of the Ancients. Whether the Burning Legion stands or falls, I fear we may soon see the burning of all woods in Kalimdor."
"I pray that day never comes," Melissa assured her.
"As do we all," Jenassa mused. "For now, our ways part yet again."
"Farewell, Jenassa," Melissa said. "I hope we may see each other again in happier times."
"Fly swift," the Night Elf said. "Do not tarry; the early morning is your cloak, but it will not linger. Fly south until you come to the Great Divide, then east until you come to Ratchet. Goddess watch over you."
With that, Jenassa stepped backwards into the forest. Beneath the shadows of Ashenvale her form almost completely vanished, leaving only a glimpse of silver eyes. Meanwhile, Melissa gave an order to her seeker and took off into the cool air of the early morning sky.
The morning in Ratchet was growing old as the Draenei warrior sat in the common room of the goblin-owned tavern. They had spent the night in the inn and yet Melissa and Fizzie had not yet returned. Bart, meanwhile, excused himself from the morning breakfast to make a quick examination of his flying machine. No sooner had the little goblin waitress delivered the food to Leshara's table but Bart came walking back in on his short legs. Using a teleportation spell, he blinked from the floor to the top of the table and took a seat to eat his breakfast.
"Is everything alright?" Leshara asked.
"Oh, yes, exactly," Bart replied. "Those goblins kept their filthy green paws off the flying machine."
"Tell me again," Leshara asked. "Why you couldn't conjure something up that couldn't be stolen so easily? You're a powerful mage."
"A very powerful mage," Bart clarified. "But a mutual friend of ours let me borrow it for a while, as she had no pressing need for it. It's a two-seater, so that was convenient for our purpose." He took a piece of goblin short-bread and nibbled on it for a while, flicking crumbs out of his beard. After a while, he looked about and turned back to the Draenei. "She hasn't returned yet?"
"No," Leshara replied. "And I am starting to worry. We are in Horde territory, after all. These goblins might protect us for the money they make from our service, but outside Ratchet, it is very dangerous."
Over the din of clattering cups and the gentle murmur of morning gossip and conversation, there was a muffled screech heard somewhere outside. Within a few minutes, their companions walked into the bar and Melissa's hand shot up to greet them. They came to their table and sat down. Melissa hailed one of the waitresses down and ordered a little something for herself and Fizzie, then turned back to Leshara and Bart.
"I've flown all night from Felwood," she sighed. "I haven't slept a wink in who knows how long. If it's all the same, I need a place to sleep. I'm going to see if I can purchase a room for myself and rest up."
"Sleeping during the day?" Leshara asked.
"Hey!" Melissa groaned. "Not all of us are immortal Draenei warriors. I myself slept a lot during the day when I was carrying Talus and Maryem. You get rest when you are able, because most of the time you can't rest. We'll need all our strength." Her eyes closed and she almost fell face first onto the table, but then jerked back up with a start.
"Dear me, I am too tired for this!" she sighed. "When the food arrives, have it sent up to my room please. I'll probably pick at it later today, but I need to rest." She asked Leshara which room was hers, so that she could rent one that was close to it. As she went to find the innkeeper, she turned back around. "I almost forgot; Leshara, come to my room tonight at sundown. I have something to talk about with you; and come alone."
"As you wish," Leshara replied.
The day was a long, hot, and boring one. Leshara had little to do but see to their animals, tend to her hooves, and maybe have another meal closer to mid-day. Bart, meanwhile, took Fizzie with him to watch as he played a game of Hearthstone for money with some of the local goblin patrons. For most folk, this was a sure-fire way to part with most, if not all, of their gold; but Bart knew a few magical tricks that could get him the victory in a match or two.
Towards the afternoon, Leshara led the two gnomes to the beach just outside Ratchet, where they could enjoy the cool of the evening near the water's edge. Bart agreed if only he had plenty of pina colada and that Leshara kept a close eye on his winnings. While they were thus enjoying themselves, Leshara kept her eye on the sun. As soon as it vanished behind Stonetalon Mountain to the west, she made her way back to the inn and to Melissa's room.
At the door, she knocked once and Melissa quickly came to answer. She was dressed in a simple white chemise, though she had covered herself with her cloak when she heard the knock. Once she came in, Melissa offered Leshara a seat and a drink of water; no wine for tonight. They sat down at the little table beside the bed and drank their fill of cool, fresh water.
"I'd almost forgotten how hot it is down in the Barrens," Melissa sighed, wiping the sweat off her brow.
"This is nothing like the Tanaan Jungle, though," Leshara stated. "Over there, you couldn't breathe the air, it was so thick and humid." Melissa chuckled fondly, then sighed. "Is there something wrong?"
"Leshara," Melissa said. "I need to tell you something very important."
"What is it?" asked the Draenei.
The human looked at the door, making sure there were no shadows at its lower crack, then got up to close the windows. Leshara protested, but Melissa dismissed this, saying that it was important, despite the heat. Once the windows were closed, she turned back to the Draenei and sat down across from her.
"Do you remember what happened in Northrend?" Melissa asked.
Leshara sighed. She had been among the first to join the Alliance forces at Valiance Keep, at the start of the invasion of Northrend. While Melissa had joined the fight after the Wrathgate, Leshara had firsthand experience of most of the long, slow march through the frigid Borean Tundra, the battles at Venture Bay, and the final push through Dragonblight. So many memories, most of them filled with darkness and death.
"Yes, I remember," Leshara answered. "And I also remember that we were going to keep quiet about it. Remember our oath?"
"I do remember the oath," Melissa said. "I know how much it meant to you. After all, you were still new to the Alliance. You idolized our leaders - Bolvar Fordragon, Tirion Fordring, King Varian, even the Scarlet Crusaders - for their unflinching defense of the Light. But..." She sighed. "...something has changed."
"What could possibly change that would warrant breaking a vow?" Leshara asked.
Melissa sighed again. "It involves what we saw in Felwood. After we visited the Dreamgrove, we found ourselves a druid who was willing to go with us to Felwood and speak to the spirits there, to learn what we needed to know about Illidan Stormrage. But what we learned there was terrible. At the end of the Third War, Illidan was in league with Kil'jaeden; he promised him power if he would destroy the Lich King at Icecrown."
Leshara nodded. "And he failed."
"Yes," Melissa said. "But when I heard about this, I remembered what we saw atop the Frozen Throne."
"We swore not to talk about that with anyone," Leshara reminded. "For the memory of Bolvar Fordragon."
"I know," Melissa frowned. "I know the Light will not look kindly on my disrespecting his last wishes to us, and to our vow. But this needs to be told." She looked about again, first to the door, then back to the windows, before speaking again in a lower voice.
"The ghost of King Terenas," she whispered. "What he said about how there must always be a Lich King."
"Melissa..."
"The Scourge would be the undoing of the world without its master's command," Melissa concluded. "If Illidan had succeeded in destroying the Frozen Throne, would not the restless Scourge become a plague upon the world? We would have no rest, day or night, until we were all consumed by death."
Leshara's eyes widened in shock. "This...this changes everything."
"What do you mean?" Melissa asked.
"Bart and I found Maiev Shadowsong," Leshara continued. "She had quite a bit to say about Illidan. But she said that he gave up his eyes to Sargeras to gain his control of the fel; and that by doing so, he became his vessel."
"Light preserve us!" Melissa gasped. She had heard of Sargeras before, the Dark Titan that created the Burning Legion and commanded them from the depths of the Twisting Nether; what she had heard had been spoken in whispers of trepidation, rumors of great power and the embodiment of the burning shadow.
"Now you tell me this, and it starts to make sense in my mind," Leshara said. "Acting as Kil'jaeden's servant, he would have destroyed the Frozen Throne and brought chaos to the world. The Legion might have invaded again before we ever arrived on Azeroth; we could have been walking into a trap!"
"So many lives lost," Melissa mused. "All for his lust for power."
"Yes," Melissa nodded. She then paused, her brow furrowing. "Wait a minute, there. Illidan was with us when we fought Kil'jaeden. He defeated his master. Why would he do that if he was serving him?"
"But if he was truly on our side," Melissa replied. "Why would he destroy a Naaru? Un..." She paused, realization dawning upon her face. "No, wait. There was another thing. In Felwood, we learned that Illidan's demonic visage, the horns, wings, and hooves that he now wears, came from his absorbing the Skull of Gul'dan."
"The one who died in the Tomb of Sargeras?" Leshara asked.
"The same," Melissa continued. "His desire was again for personal gain; he said that he wanted to show his brother his 'true power.' He took the Skull for power, just as he claimed the fel during the War of the Ancients for power. All he wants is more power for himself..."
"Like the Kirin Tor," Leshara mused.
"What was that?" Melissa asked.
"I'll explain later," the Draenei dismissed. "Go on."
"Like I said, all Illidan wants is power," Melissa stated. "Maybe that's why he aided us in destroying his former master? He wanted power for himself, to be the master and serve no one else."
"That certainly sounds like Illidan," Leshara said. "If he balked at authority before, he certainly would want to have authority over others, so that he would be answerable to no one else."
"Does he want authority over the Legion itself?" Melissa asked. "To be the once and future prince of darkness and shadow, seated upon the Burning Throne of Antorus?"
"I don't think he has such goals," Leshara said. "More likely, he is far too short-sighted for such ambition, and only seeks power for himself. That would explain why the Blood Elves were attracted to him; they wanted power to slake their own thirst for magic."
"The Blood Elves?" Melissa asked.
"Yes," Leshara nodded. "Maiev also revealed to us that the Blood Elves rescued Illidan from her grasp. Perhaps they might know something about what he did in Outland?"
"What about Akama?" Melissa asked. "As I understand, he had some dealing with Illidan, didn't he?"
"He did," Leshara sighed. "He made a deal with the Betrayer to drive the demons out of Karabor, but no demons were ever truly driven. Instead, one dark lord was replaced by another."
"Truly," Melissa nodded. "If only the Blood Elves were not allied with the Horde, it would be easier to speak with them. Unless, wait!"
"What?"
"It just might be possible!" her face lit up with delight.
"What is it?" Leshara asked, her curiosity piqued. "Tell me!"
"We could go to Light's Hope Chapel!" Melissa exclaimed. "There are Blood Elves there, and the Conclave is in good standing with the Silver Hand after defeating the Legion's assault on Netherlight Temple. We might find the answers that we seek there."
"That could very well work," Leshara said. "Bart has to return the flying machine after all. Perhaps he can teleport us all over..."
A knock at the door disturbed their conversation. Melissa let out a quiet yelp and reached for the cloak to cover herself. Leshara turned towards the door but said nothing. There came a second knock, then a voice spoke out from the other side: it was not the voice of anyone in their party.
"We know you're in there, Leshara," said the voice. "If you don't answer at once, we'll force our way in there."
"Come on in," Leshara spoke, despite a furtive glance from Melissa. But it was as useless as the voice's warning; a bright flash of blue light behind them appeared, and when it vanished there stood a mage wearing the purple colors of the Kirin Tor.
"By order of the Council of Six," the mage ordered, speaking to Leshara. "You are to return to Argus and resume your position among the Legionfall Armies at once."
"What is the meaning of this?" Melissa spoke up. "Have you no decency?"
"The orders of the Council cannot wait, High Priest," the mage replied. "Even for one of your lofty stature. Leshara has abandoned her post and must be returned at once."
"Wait, abandoned?" Melissa asked. "I think you're mistaken. Turalyon gave her permission to leave."
"No such orders have reached the Council from the High Exarch," the mage returned. "Her orders are to return to her post at once." He turned back to Leshara. "Failure to comply would be most...inconvenient for you."
"Is that a threat?" Melissa asked.
"Your pardon, High Priest," the mage returned. "But you are no in position to challenge the orders of the Council on her behalf. They recognize your place as the head of the Conclave, but you do not hold any power over us. If the Council orders you to jump, your only question should be 'how high.'"
"She answers to King Anduin and Prophet Velen, not to the Council of Six!" Melissa interjected. "Or perhaps I should take this matter to the King? He'd be very interested to know that our supposed allies are prohibiting the freedom of his subjects to come and go as they please!"
"Mels, no!" Leshara said at last, after a long period of silence. "It's okay." She turned back to the mage. "I'll be back on Argus very soon."
"See that you don't hesitate," the mage returned. "The Violet Eye has ways of knowing what their persons of interest do at all times." With that, he teleported out of the room.
"The nerve of him!" Melissa snarled. "Threatening you like that, after what you and the other Valarjar have done for the war effort! By the Light, I can't believe I actually wanted to join them once upon a time!"
"You shouldn't have made that outburst, Mels," Leshara sighed. "He had every right to do as he did."
"Wait, what?" Melissa asked, doing a double take. "What are you saying?"
Leshara sighed. "I lied to you about getting Turalyon's permission to leave Argus. I returned here secretly without permission and without notice."
"But why?" Melissa asked. "I mean, you and I, we both believe in the Light. We have our duty to stop the Burning Legion. And you, of all people, should want to drive them out of your homeland!"
"Argus isn't my homeland!" Leshara firmly said; too firmly, it seemed, for Melissa balked at her response. "My sincere apologies, I shouldn't have said it that way. It's only, well, I've spent some two centuries on Argus, and a little more than that on Draenor. For over ten thousand years, I and my people have been wanderers; for the present time, however, Azeroth is my home." She turned her gaze towards the window.
"That green orb hanging in the sky," she continued. "Raining demons down upon us day and night, upsetting the elements. It is a graveyard. Death, destruction, and disease are everywhere; darkness and fel grip the corners of that shattered world." She blinked for a moment, then dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her fingers
"What's wrong, Leshara?" Melissa asked, her voice softening.
"You know the story of how we left Argus?" Leshara asked.
"Only pieces of it," Melissa continued. "The Dark Titan offered your three leaders the fel, and the Prophet Velen sensed something was wrong. Then he was contacted by the Naaru who showed him the truth, after which he led all those who would listen to flee Argus on the Exodar."
"That is true," Leshara nodded. "Ever since we returned there...all the Eredar in that place have been speaking things; lies. I believe many in the Kirin Tor and the Armies of Legionfall believe them; they are enamored with Illidan's worship of power and the Kirin Tor believe blasphemous things about the Light."
"I know," Melissa nodded. She had heard them as well, especially being the High Priest of the Conclave; such things as the Light creating darkness and the darkness creating Light, and that the Light cannot exist without the darkness and likewise the darkness cannot be without the Light.
"Hearing those words again," Leshara muttered. "From those who were once my people...even from him..."
"Who?"
"Sit down, Melissa," Leshara said. "Let me tell you a story."
(AN: I had little to do in WoW, so I went to Argus to play through the story-line, and I was appalled at how the writers have chosen to drag Velen through the dirt! He chose to save his people, and it was a wise and noble choice of his; but instead, because Blizzard has a hard-on for tearing down noble characters, they've turned his choice to save his people into "cowardice" and "betrayal", all the while fellatiating the true Betrayer and coward, gazing down upon us with his smug, Xavius grin, telling us how "not prepared" we are.)
(Another thought came to mind, one that has more relevance to the story than the subplot my brother insisted be thrown in at the end. One thing that angered me about the whiny Illidari, is how they say "do not blindly follow anyone" [ironic considering how they are ALL blind], but then at the same time go "Lord Illidan knows the way." So...is he the only one we should blindly follow, then? Also, their fel powers I feel could be abused greatly to get back at the people they don't like [like the Wardens and Druids for the Night Elf demon hunters], but, as usual, the Kirin Tor [-cough- Blizzard!] blindly follow and believe everything they say.)