Illidan stalked over to the great map table. Massive gems carved to represent demonic transporters marred a dozen locations. They glittered like plague boils on the face of the world. They dotted Nagrand and Hellfire Peninsula, the Netherstorm and the Blade’s Edge Mountains. It seemed that almost every province of Outland held at least one, sometimes more.
“Each of these marks a new forge camp, Lord Illidan,” said Gathios the Shatterer, a little too quickly. He had risen from his carved throne as soon as Illidan entered, and he stood there as if called to attention by a commanding officer. “The Burning Legion has set up bases there and fortified them. I have been putting together contingency plans to assault them and throw the demons back.”
“Have you, Gathios?” Illidan kept his voice deceptively mild. “And how exactly do you intend to do that? Each of those forge camps contains a transporter. They can be reinforced by demons at a moment’s notice.”
“Lord Illidan, we closed Magtheridon’s portals with your aid. Surely we can close these.”
Illidan studied the map. “Every time we close a portal, another appears. Kil’jaeden can draw upon near-infinite forces. He toys with us.”
Lady Malande gave a nervous giggle. This was obviously not what she had expected Illidan to say. “You will lead us to victory, Lord. I have every faith in you. These new soldiers you have been forging—if they are all as strong as Varedis and Netharel and Alandien—will surely be able to slaughter the demons.”
Illidan stared at her. She seemed particularly well informed about the demon hunters. Had she been spying on them? Of course she had. All of his council had. They were curious about anything that shifted the balance of power within the Black Temple. It might well affect their own stations. How much had Malande uncovered? The demon hunters represented the most important part of his plan to strike back at the Burning Legion. Secrecy was critical. He could not take any chances of the nathrezim finding out what he was up to until he was ready to launch his attack. He had told no one of his ultimate goal—but he might have let something slip, left some clue from which a mind as keen and suspicious as Malande’s would be able to deduce his intentions.
Illidan wished that Lady Vashj were here. She was at least straightforward, easy to understand, and utterly loyal. Alas, she was in Zangarmarsh, supervising the draining of the marshland as part of the first stage of the plan to take control of all the waters of Outland and, through them, all its people. Thirst and drought were mighty weapons.
Illidan gazed at Veras Darkshadow. “Have your agents found out anything concerning Kael’thas’s fate?”
Veras shook his head. “They found the last camp of his army, but then nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing significant, Lord. Traces of campfires, refuse, little more.”
“No sign of a struggle?”
“None, Lord. It is as if the prince simply opened a portal and vanished. It seems he does not want to be found.”
Veras was implying that Kael’thas was planning some treachery. Illidan did not discount the possibility. Kil’jaeden had shown particular interest in the blood elf prince the day the Black Temple had fallen. On consideration, Illidan had decided that the Deceiver had been trying to sow seeds of dissension between him and his allies. Perhaps the demon lord had done more than that, but now was not the time to say so. If Kael’thas had turned, he might well have left spies behind. Illidan would not make them wary. “Let us not jump to any conclusions, Veras. Just find Kael’thas.”
“As you wish, Lord,” said Veras. “So shall it be.”
He looked as if he wanted to speak more in private. His eyes flashed to Akama. Illidan said, “All of you are dismissed. Except you, Darkshadow. I want to have words with you concerning the whereabouts of Maiev Shadowsong.”
The other council members filed out. Akama paused in the doorway as if he was about to say something, thought the better of it, and departed.
The elevator carried Maiev and Anyndra up the side of Aldor Rise. It was a low, flat platform, and nothing visible supported it as it lifted itself into the sky. Powerful magic was at work here. Maiev’s nightsaber growled and stayed away from the edge. The big cat had an excellent sense of balance, but it was taking no chances of a fall from this height.
Maiev had a tremendous view of the rooftops of the city and the great tower that housed the Terrace of Light. It was so tall, it threatened to touch the sky. Inside it, she felt the power of the naaru. It galled her that they had not agreed to help. With their aid, she would have had a much better chance of bringing Illidan to justice.
Sarius soared along beside the elevator, wearing the form of a storm crow. Maiev recognized him by his distinctive plumage. He was there to watch and observe. She did not expect these Aldor to prove treacherous, but she never ruled out the possibility with anyone. Traitors could be found in the most surprising places.
Anyndra said, “They say that sometimes the Broken ride this elevator just so they can throw themselves off at the top. You would think the sentries would prevent that.”
“Maybe they think they are performing an act of mercy,” said Maiev.
She was wondering whether she should have brought more guards. They would be outnumbered atop Aldor Rise, but at least their presence would have spoken of Maiev’s importance. In the end, she had decided that it would be better to appear as a petitioner.
The platform glided to a stop. She took one last glance down at the city and thought about those sad Broken making the long drop to the stones below.
Above them, two stone islets hovered in the sky. They had been curved after the fashion of draenei architecture, and lights glowed in their sides to leave the viewer in no doubt as to their magical provenance. It was clear that visitors were meant to be overawed by this display of magic.
Great crystals studded the sides of the buildings atop the rise. At night their glow could be seen in the sky above the city, a reminder to all of the purity of the Aldor and the Light they served. Maiev sniffed at the thought.
Aldor guards, clad in heavy armor and wearing the purple tabard of their faction, greeted her. They were not hostile, but they made it very clear that she was under observation. She stated her business, and they led her to the so-called Shrine of Unending Light.
A tall, beautiful female draenei, garbed in robes of blue and white moved to greet her. Maiev inclined her head to accept her benediction.
“Blessings of the Light upon you, Warden Shadowsong,” said the draenei. “I am Ishanah, high priestess of the Aldor. I have been told that you would have words with me.”
Maiev detected a subtle note of hostility in the high priestess’s tone. “I have come seeking the aid of those who follow the Light.”
“I have been told that a number of those already follow you.”
“I meant the Aldor.”
“You seek to slay the one called the Betrayer?”
“Or imprison him once more.”
“Why?”
Maiev’s jaw fell open. “Because he is evil.”
“We do not have such strength that we can afford to throw it away assaulting the Black Temple. It is all we can do to hold our ground. And we serve other functions.”
Maiev let her eyes dwell on Ishanah’s rich robes, then let them slide to their beautiful surroundings. “I can see that.”
“We do not all have to enter the darkness to fight against it.”
“Sometimes, defeating evil means getting your hands dirty.”
“And sometimes, getting your hands dirty turns you to evil.” Ishanah’s smile seemed mocking. “In order to work with the Light, you must be pure of heart.”
“And you think I am not?” Maiev’s anger simmered in her voice.