Have you seen? Malfurion asked of them. Have you seen?
The grass was eager to speak with him, for no one generally asked any favor, but it could only state that some group of creatures had tread upon it. It was the answer that Malfurion had expected, but despite not having learned anything, he still thanked the grass.
“I cast spells over the area but found no clue,” Var’dyn offered.
“Did everyone head in the same general direction after I departed?”
“Why would we go any other? You think we want to wander into those humans you have got settled farther out?” Var’dyn did not hide his contempt.
Malfurion chose to ignore the tone. “And Thera’brin returned alone?”
The mage looked impatient. “You have asked this before.”
“And I will ask it again, if I have to. You would be surprised how an answer can suddenly change.” The archdruid slowly rose, then, after catching his breath, started off in the direction that he recalled most of the Highborne heading. “Do you remember your own path back?”
“Of course.”
“Lead on.”
With a shrug, Var’dyn obeyed. He pushed through the underbrush, Malfurion right behind him.
As they walked, the archdruid continued to reach out to the flora, speaking to various trees, bushes, and more . . . but with the same predictable lack of results. This was not a use of his skills for which even Malfurion was prepared.
“Are we done here?” asked Var’dyn at last.
“I see no reason for you to stay. I would like to survey the area a bit more.”
“As you like.” The Highborne departed without another word.
Sighing, Malfurion looked over the territory. In truth, he could think of little else he could do, but he had not wanted to give up in front of the Highborne. He suspected that Var’dyn had not quite shown him the path that the Highborne had followed. But even if Malfurion had known the precise path, it was doubtful that he would have gleaned anything useful from the plant life. The flora had taken notice of the spellwork but had otherwise paid no mind to the creatures involved in it once it had ceased.
One of the largest trees shifted its branches. In doing so, it spoke to the archdruid.
Someone was watching him from deeper in the forest.
Without even turning, Malfurion set the forest in motion to deal with the spying eyes. The trees in that direction bent down, their branches creating an impenetrable wall around the hidden observer’s vicinity. At the same time, the underbrush sprouted, ensuring that it would tangle in his or her footing. Flowers, suddenly blooming, released clouds of pollen.
With easy steps, the archdruid strode toward the area. As he neared, he heard not only futile struggling but also coughing.
The flora gave way to him, creating a passage just wide enough. Malfurion held his staff ready, although in truth he feared little.
A figure became visible as the foremost trees straightened and the underbrush shifted. He continued to cough and also sought to rub his eyes clear. The pollen, while seemingly insignificant, had invaded both his lungs and his eyes with effectiveness.
Malfurion gestured. A selective wind swirled around the other figure. With the direction that only Malfurion could give it, it not only blew the pollen from the other’s gaze but also provided fresh air that helped lessen the coughing.
Through bloodshot eyes, Eadrik stared at the night elf.
“A-Archdruid!” The human sneezed. “Praise be! I thought some monstrous creature had me!”
“Merely a precaution. When others are spying on me, I like to know who they are.”
Genn’s man looked aghast. “Spying on you? Hardly that! I was just on a hunt. I flushed out the prey, but lost it around here. I thought I heard it in that direction”—he pointed where Malfurion had come from—“and a moment later the entire land seemed to fall upon me!”
Malfurion gestured, and the rest of the barrier vanished. He need not have made any motion, but felt it was good to further remind Eadrik of just whom he faced and why it might be wise to speak truthfully. Of course, Malfurion intended no true harm to the human, but keeping Eadrik off balance might provide the night elf with some information.
“You are far from the encampment, Eadrik. It must have been quite the hunt to bring you this far. Now . . . would you like to explain again?”
The Gilnean looked away. Malfurion could all but read him. Eadrik feared betraying his lord in even the slightest manner.
“Your loyalty is commendable, but if you do not tell me now, I must demand the truth from Genn. With the summit imminent, any question I have concerning Gilneas’s application to rejoin the Alliance might tilt matters in a direction neither he nor I would prefer.”
The human swallowed, then finally nodded. “It’s nothing, Archdruid! I wasn’t meaning to watch you at all! It’s just that you happened to be here—happened to be here with one of them. . . .”
“One of . . . the Highborne? You have been watching the Highborne?”
Swallowing again, Eadrik continued: “My lord knows some of their history from you and others. He distrusts whatever influence they might have.”
It was something Malfurion had heard before. Those previous to state this belief had all been night elves, though.
“No slight was meant to you,” the human quickly added. “My lord has the greatest respect for your abilities and word.”
“Then he may take my word that the Highborne are of no concern to Gilneas. That should keep him from sending you or anyone else on unnecessary excursions.”
Eadrik bowed his head. “Yes, Archdruid.”
Malfurion took on a kinder tone. “I know that you are all on edge due to the summit. It will go well.”
“We understand.”
“Please give Genn my best.”
The human gave a short bow, then scurried into the forest. Malfurion frowned and turned toward Darnassus. He believed that Eadrik had told the truth when he had said that Genn Greymane distrusted the Highborne. The archdruid also believed that Gilneas had not had anything to do with the one mage’s disappearance.
But what Malfurion Stormrage also believed was that this incident somehow was tied to the summit . . . and possibly the desired failure of it.
9
A Final Farewell
The funeral for Shalasyr was a short, relatively modest affair despite Tyrande’s desire to see Jarod’s bride honored appropriately. That had been due to Jarod’s choice: he had felt that Shalasyr would have not wanted much pomp and circumstance. She had preferred simplicity, and he believed that included her final rites. Of course, there was also the nagging guilt that perhaps Jarod had insisted on the shorter ceremony simply so as to lessen his agony a bit.
Attendance was limited to those who had known her best. The high priestess stood behind the funeral bier upon which the body of Shalasyr had been placed. The light of Elune shone down through the temple ceiling, focusing on both Jarod’s beloved and Tyrande.
“Darkness covered us in the beginning,” she uttered, “and we could not see. We cried for guidance and the moon shone down bright upon us. Her soft light not only illuminated the night for us but also gave comfort. Her light touched us from within, enabling us to see even when the moon was not visible. . . .”
Whether this was entirely fact was not something debated among the night elves. What the high priestess stated concerned as much the souls of her people as it did actual events. What no one could argue with was that the Mother Moon took special care with her favored children, and they were grateful to her for that.
Jarod knelt at the forefront, his gaze never leaving Shalasyr’s beautiful, almost ethereal face. She could have been a marble statue, so perfect did she seem to him. His mate looked utterly at peace, even appearing to wear the hint of a smile.