“Yes.”
She guessed that the fact that so many of her troops were draenei worked in her favor. Or perhaps the guards were really just used to the sight of refugees. Her fighters were ragged from hard riding and hard fighting. Perhaps the sentries were just glad to see more troops enter the city.
The guards raised their lances. Pennons fluttered once more in the wind. Maiev rode through the huge stone arch. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the city, she gasped. There was power here, ancient and benevolent. It was woven into the stones, transforming them into more than just a physical barrier against the minions of the Burning Legion. She sensed the pulse of vast energies from within the huge central tower that loomed over the city.
“We are in the presence of the Light,” Anyndra said. Whatever it was, she sensed it, too.
“Let us hope so,” Maiev said. “Let us pray it is not some great deceit.”
Too often evil wore the mask of benevolence. Wickedness cloaked itself in sanctity. It was easy to manipulate the gullible by such means. She considered that possibility long and hard. There had been times recently when she had thought that she would accept aid from Kil’jaeden himself if it meant the end of Illidan.
She decided that even if these naaru were less benevolent than they seemed, it did not matter. If they would help her against the Betrayer, she was prepared to make a pact with them.
They rode through the wide streets of Shattrath. Her draenei recruits pointed out the sights to one another and their night elf leaders. All of them had heard a great deal about the city even if they had never been here before. Maiev supposed that it was to the draenei of Outland what Darnassus was to her own people.
It was impressive enough in its own way, although it was a place of stone rather than living wood. Like so many of the draenei refugees it held, the city had a smashed look to it. She felt as if she was looking upon the patched ruins of a once mighty metropolis. The people around her fit their location. Many were ragged and hungry looking. Several approached her with hands outstretched. A few were children. She had nothing to give such beggars even if she wanted to. It was hard enough to keep her own troops fed and clothed, and every coin was needed to fund their war.
There were people from all over Outland. Broken huddled in lean-tos by the side of the road. There were orcs here, which surprised her. She was not sure why. She was so used to fighting them, her hand itched to draw her blade. That urge was as nothing to the anger she felt when she saw a blood elf staring at her. She was not the only one who noticed.
“Blood elves,” Anyndra said with a scowl. She felt the same loathing of these twisted elves as Maiev did. They had lost their fount of arcane magic when Arthas defiled the Sunwell and used its energies to reanimate the lich Kel’Thuzad. Now they craved arcane power with an unappeasable lust.
The blood elf’s lips bent into an arrogant sneer, but he could not meet their gazes just the same.
“We should pity them,” Sarius said. He walked along beside them in his night elf form. “Their lives are twisted by their unnatural craving for magical power.”
“I do not think I could live if I became what they are,” Anyndra said.
Sarius’s smile was complex. “They were our kin once. Perhaps they could be again. They might be redeemed.”
Maiev stared at him. She should have expected as much. Sarius was a druid. They had strange ideas.
“I do not think they want to be redeemed,” Anyndra said. “I think they enjoy being what they are.”
“How would you know?” Sarius asked. “Have you talked to any of them?”
“No. I was too busy trying to stop them from killing me,” said Anyndra. Her tone was soft, and she smiled at the druid. “As you should remember.”
“I certainly healed the wounds.” Sarius was smiling as well. There was a definite fondness between the pair. As long as it did not interfere with the performance of their duties, Maiev did not mind.
As she rode she noticed that more than one set of sin’dorei eyes tracked them. There was no love in those gazes. She wondered if the blood elves were spies for Kael’thas and, through him, for Illidan.
The sign of The Crystal Goblet hung over the street. The sound of music and revelry came from within. Maiev led her troops to the courtyard, and Broken stable hands rushed out to greet them. They seemed confident enough with the elekk, but none of them wanted anything to do with the nightsabers.
A massive Broken emerged from the building. His eyes went wide when he saw the number of riders. She could almost see him counting the profits.
“Blessings of the Light be upon you,” he said. His horned head bowed. The long tendrils around his mouth drooped. He placed his hands together, fingers interlocked. “Welcome to the Crystal Goblet. You will find all to your satisfaction here.”
“I hope so,” Maiev said. “Arechron spoke very highly of Alexius and his hospitality.”
The Broken’s smile widened. “You have spoken to my cousin. You are thrice welcome. You will be wanting accommodations for your retinue?”
“Only for myself, my officers, and a dozen or so bodyguards. The rest of my force will be encamped beyond the city walls.”
Alexius gave a small grimace of disappointment, then turned and bellowed instructions in Draenei. A small army of servants scurried off to prepare the best rooms in the house. “I would be honored if you would join me in my private rooms,” he said. “I am sure there is much we must speak of.”
Maiev thought she detected a note of urgency in his voice. Perhaps Arechron had already made contact. Messengers flew between Telaar and Shattrath on a regular basis.
“Indeed, I am grateful for your hospitality.”
Alexius’s chambers were luxurious, furnished with rugs and mirrors and racks and racks of wine bottles. He carefully selected one, blew dust off it, and showed it to Maiev, as if it meant something. She had no idea about the differences between draenei vintages, and she cared even less.
“This was a very fine year,” Alexius said. “A century before our world was broken, this bottle was laid down. When you taste this, you will be getting a taste of the old Draenor.”
She forced herself to smile as if she was interested and waited for him to uncork the bottle and pour. He sat there for long moments with the full glass under his lips, sniffing it with his eyes shut and a look of profound satisfaction on his face. “The scent always makes me think of my childhood.”
“You drank wine as a child?”
“Sometimes with meals. But mostly it is just the scent. It makes me think of my father and mother sitting down to break bread with their kin.”
“This was before your world was shattered?”
He nodded and his glowing eyes snapped open. “Yes. I am older than I look,” he said, smiling to show that he knew how old he really looked.
“It must have been a terrible time,” Maiev said. She had found that the more she reminded the draenei and the Broken of their suffering, the more likely they were to aid her against those they blamed for it.
“A world shattered?” His tone told her that he thought her words a gross understatement. “Terrible hardly begins to describe it. We thought the world was ending. The sky burned. The continents ripped apart. Lava flowed. Wild magic danced from mountain peak to mountain peak. Sometimes the tips of mountains rose into the air and floated away. Sometimes they crashed down and killed thousands.”
“I have seen such things in Nagrand.”
“That is like comparing a pebble to a boulder, I am afraid.”
“You have been to Nagrand?”
He nodded. “Business sometimes takes me to Telaar. And family responsibilities.”
His smile widened and he placed his hands, palms up, on the table. “But you have not come here to listen to the meanderings of an old innkeeper. Arechron’s letters have told me something about your quest. You seek the undoing of this new lord of Outland, this Illidan.”