They knew better than to argue. No longer paying them any heed, Varian strode out. However, like in his quarters, the tranquility of the capital did nothing to ease his heart. Instead, he stared at the forest beyond.
His pace quickened. The wilderness beckoned.
“King Varian! I was just coming to see you.”
The human hid his disappointment, though for a moment his eyes lingered longingly on the trees beyond the city.
“Archdruid,” he responded, finally acknowledging his host. “My thanks for our quarters. They will do just fine.”
“Which is why you had to flee them at the first chance,” the night elf returned with a slight smile. “Please. I will not stand on ceremony with you. Call me Malfurion.”
“Then I’ll ask you to call me Varian.”
“As you wish. If you do not mind, I hoped to have a word with you.”
The lord of Stormwind exhaled. “My sincerest apologies for ruining your banquet.”
“The banquet is of no consequence. The gathering is. You appreciate bluntness, Varian. I am more concerned about your confrontation with Genn.”
The mere mention of Greymane’s name stirred the embers within. Varian’s pulse pounded. “I’d prefer not to speak about that, Malfurion.”
The night elf would not be dissuaded. “Varian, I must ask you to consider everything that happens before, during, and after the summit in light of what Azeroth has become due to the Cataclysm. Each choice we make has to be carefully weighed.”
“You’re referring to the induction.”
“Of course. I hope you will see reason—”
The king no longer had any desire to head to the forest. Is there nowhere I can be free?
Malfurion was clearly intent on pressing forward with his point. Varian could see only one way to at least end the conversation.
“I’ll give Genn and the worgen a fair consideration. You have my word.”
Malfurion heard the finality in his voice and wisely accepted the answer as it was. “Thank you, Varian. That is all I can ask—”
Another figure intruded upon them. Varian fought down his impatience with the seemingly never-ending situation. His trained eyes took in the newcomer, who, though a night elf, was dressed in a colorful outfit that the king thought Malfurion surely also found gaudy.
“Archdruid Stormrage,” the other greeted solemnly.
“Var’dyn.”
Varian’s sharp ears caught a slight inflection in the night elf’s voice, as if the archdruid not only knew what this other figure wanted . . . but dreaded it for some reason.
Exactly what the other elf was finally registered with Varian. He recalled the reports. So this is a Highborne.
The Highborne barely seemed to notice the human. The king recalled the apparent arrogance of Var’dyn’s kind. He also remembered that they were magi . . . and reckless ones at that.
The archdruid said, “I thank you for your time and your reply, Varian. I look forward to speaking with you further.”
The king took advantage of the situation. “Naturally. Forgive me now; I must be going. Good evening.”
He did not even acknowledge the Highborne as he left, thinking that the other elf did not deserve any better than he gave. Varian gratefully departed the pair, silently wishing he had never sailed from Stormwind.
A slight movement in the trees nearby caught the corner of his eye. Varian did not focus on it, aware that by the time he turned the source would be gone from sight. Besides, the king was fairly certain just what had been lurking at the forest’s edge.
His scowl deepened. Under his breath, he muttered, “Damned worgen.”
Var’dyn did not speak until the human was long gone. Malfurion, aware of the news he had not yet had the opportunity to present to the Highborne, solemnly waited. The archdruid wanted to hear Var’dyn out to see how much the latter knew.
“I am here concerning the disappearance,” Var’dyn bluntly stated. “You know that.”
Malfurion waited for the Highborne to continue, but that apparently was all the mage wished to say for the moment. Instead, Var’dyn looked expectantly at the archdruid.
There is no use delaying the inevitable, Malfurion thought. “So, Maiev Shadowsong has informed the Highborne of everything already—”
He got no further: Var’dyn’s perplexed expression told him that the mage had no idea whatsoever about anything concerning Maiev—or her discovery.
“What should we know about, Archdruid?”
“Thera’brin is dead. Murdered.”
Var’dyn stiffened. “Tell me.”
Malfurion did, leaving out no detail. The spellcaster remained stone-faced throughout. The only true sign of his growing fury was his hands, which folded into tight fists and stayed so.
“The body will be returned to us immediately,” Var’dyn declared when Malfurion finished. His voice held no emotion. He stared past the other night elf, as if seeing something far, far away. “There will be no further desecration of it by anyone for any reason.”
“That was the intention. Maiev—”
“Yes . . . the warden. She can continue with her investigation, but she will not speak with us. If there is anything we learn, we will relate it to you, Archdruid. I leave it to you to let her know what she needs.”
It was hardly the most logical system, but the Highborne were not very trusting—and, at the moment, Malfurion could not entirely blame them.
“I will speak to her as soon as I can,” he promised Var’dyn.
The mage did not answer, his gaze once again distant. The edge of his mouth twitched. Malfurion grew disturbed.
“Var’dyn. I swear that Thera’brin’s death will be investigated thoroughly and the assassins brought to justice! I only ask that the Highborne have some patience—”
“We cannot afford patience, Archdruid,” Var’dyn blurted. He finally looked directly at Malfurion again, and in those eyes the archdruid read a sense of dread. “You see. I did not come to speak with you about Thera’brin. Another of my people has gone missing.”
12
The Horde Strikes
There was still no word from Darnassus, although Haldrissa hoped for it soon. Nevertheless, she went on with her own plans to organize against this latest Horde incursion. Of necessity, that meant a swift, simple ceremony for poor Xanon.
The commander said appropriate words for her dead officer, then turned over the final moments to Kara’din, one of the two druids assigned to her here in Ashenvale as part of some project of the high priestess and the archdruid’s to bring the night elf race closer together. The other, Parsis, was somewhere in the forest behind them, wandering the Emerald Dream or something—Haldrissa was not quite sure. She was as devoted to the ways of her people as most night elves, but the druids were a lot that sometimes baffled and frustrated her. They often seemed to be half-asleep—or more, even—and spoke about aspects of the world that had no practical use for a soldier.
As soon as the funeral finished, Haldrissa headed back. Denea followed close. Although her second obeyed every order she gave without question, Haldrissa could sense a distance growing between them. She was certain that Denea and some of the other officers blamed their commander for not only Xanon’s death but the other losses as well. Of course, most of her officers had not been out in the field as long as Haldrissa, so for the moment she forgave their naïveté. If they survived life half as long as she had, they would learn.
But will they get that opportunity? she suddenly asked herself. This latest intrusion by the Horde looked to be on a far greater scale than in the past.
“Denea . . .”
“Yes, Commander?”
“I want four scouts to take their hippogryphs toward the northeast. Not so far as we journeyed. From the air, they should be able to see enough even then.”