Yet, if the Light had other plans for Anduin Wrynn . . .
You must move on, Jarod heard his wife’s voice murmur to him. It was not the first time since coming here that he had heard it, and while some might have thought that they were going mad, Jarod accepted it as her simply still watching out for him as she always had in life.
He had already departed his quarters some time ago in the hopes of trying to regain some focus. Even though he would continue to mourn Shalasyr—perhaps for the rest of his life—he knew that she would have expected him to do more than that. As much as Jarod hated the thought, Shalasyr would have wanted him to fit himself back into night elf society, find some other purpose. Yet, what that purpose might be, he did not know and, in truth, did not completely care. Still, Jarod knew that he had to try.
There was no question about returning to the military. In part, that had to do with dealing with Shandris, something he was not prepared to do for the time being . . . if ever. However, it also had to do with Jarod’s lingering feelings concerning how he saw night elf society. There were hints that things had changed, that Malfurion and Tyrande had begun bringing the various segments of their people closer again . . . but he needed to see more. The war had left too much of a mark on him.
I apparently am beginning to grow old. Jarod hoped that he would not become as he had seen some of the elder night elves he had witnessed just after the war’s end. Their entire world turned upside down by the struggle against the Burning Legion and the destruction of Zin-Azshari, they had been unable to cope with their new, unpredictable future. Several had slipped into fantasy worlds of their own that consisted of safe memories of the past. Many of those had never found their way back to reality.
But for Shalasyr’s sake alone, Jarod was determined to live. Forcing himself to leave his quarters and start walking among his own kind were the first steps. He had even made it a point to keep an eye out for anyone he remembered and be sure to greet them. That had caused a few startled expressions, but Jarod had felt that his wife would have been proud of his initial effort.
Still, he was more than happy to finally head back. In fact, the closer he got, the more he picked up his pace, eager to return to what had become his sanctuary.
And thus it was that Jarod nearly fell atop the body in his path.
He saved himself from doing so at the last minute by grabbing hold of one of the last trees within reach. Even still, the former guard captain dropped down on one knee upon the arm of the corpse.
The years since the war melted away as Jarod reacted like a soldier once again. Pressing against the tree, he peered around for the assassin. Seeing no one, Jarod cautiously bent low to investigate the grisly find.
At first, he wondered if perhaps he was losing himself in old memories. He had not seen such a figure since the war. That Jarod had not even noticed the brightly colored garment bespoke just how deep he had been in his reverie.
“A Highborne . . . ” Belatedly, it returned to him that they had come seeking readmittance to night elf society.
With the exception of his accidental leaning on the arm, Jarod was careful not to touch the body. It was already evident what had likely proven the spellcaster’s end—the two jagged slits in his throat indicated a large dagger wielded by an enthusiastic hand. There was also something pinned by a rock to the dead mage’s chest.
Questions filled Jarod’s head, some of them very disturbing. One that particularly vexed him from the start was why the Highborne should be here in the first place. What business had the spellcaster had so near where Jarod lived?
The answer came to him as he studied the ground nearby. Someone had been careful to remove any footsteps, and he knew why: the Highborne had been slain elsewhere and then dragged to this spot. Despite the efforts to cover that fact up, there were still some tiny, telltale spots of what could only be blood. They led toward the east for a few paces before ceasing. From all this, Jarod decided that the reason that the Highborne had been found by him was simply that the assassins had not wanted the victim to be discovered near the place of his demise. Something there would have possibly given searchers a clue to the truth.
It occurred to him suddenly that this was not his task. By rights, he had to report this to the Sentinels or, more to his preference, the archdruid or high priestess. Jarod looked around again, saw no one, and decided to risk leaving the body alone while he searched for someone with authority.
Being a druid, Malfurion was likely somewhere beyond Darnassus, so Jarod headed toward the temple. At the very least, he believed Tyrande would be there, and if it turned out the archdruid also was, so much the better.
“Jarod?”
He stopped at the sound of Shandris’s voice. Flanked by four Sentinels, she, too, headed toward the temple.
“Shan—General,” he responded, trying to regain his composure.
After her initial outburst of his name, she, too, sought to bring things to a more detached level. “Jarod. You have business with the high priestess?”
It took but a moment’s debate before he admitted the truth. “Yes . . . someone has been murdered.”
Her guards immediately tensed. Shandris signaled them to calm down, though her eyes burned at the revelation. “Where? Who?”
“I found the body near my quarters.” He gave her a more precise location. “It was one of the Highborne. I do not know him. There was some note under him, but I did not touch it.”
“A Highborne . . . ” Shandris looked at the guard nearest her left. “Send word to Maiev Shadowsong”—she hesitated a moment as she noted Jarod’s reaction to his sister’s name—“with the details you just heard.” To the guard next to that one, she continued, “Take Ildyri and hurry to where he said the body was located. Keep guard over it until Maiev or her people arrive.”
The other Sentinels rushed to obey, leaving Shandris with just the one guard. The general bade Jarod join her, the other Sentinel following them.
The guards did not hesitate to let Shandris pass. She strode unerringly through the temple to where they found Tyrande.
The high priestess greeted them with a knowing expression. “There has been a death.”
Shandris went down on one knee, the other Sentinel and Jarod doing the same. “Another Highborne.”
Tyrande bade them to rise. “You found the body, Jarod?”
He realized that she had read the fact in his urgent manner. “Yes. Not far from my quarters. I judged that the body had been moved from elsewhere after the murder. I assume to hide facts about the true location. . . .”
“That seems logical to me,” Shandris added. “I have sent someone to inform Maiev and others to guard the body until she or the Highborne do something with it.”
“And we shall do something . . . not only now with Ha’srim’s body, but also with these curs who think the Highborne will stand by and be slain without repercussion!”
Malfurion and a Highborne had entered the chamber from another direction. Jarod understood that this was someone high among the magi, though he doubted it was the leader.
That was verified by Tyrande’s reply. “Do you speak in the name of Archmage Mordent now, Var’dyn?”
“I presage his words, High Priestess! Patient though he is, the Archmage will not let this stand! This lack of progress has been discussed among the Highborne. We would hate to have to make these crimes more public, especially with the emissaries now present for your summit, but we will do so if necessary. Perhaps, then, something will be done about the murders.” He glared at all in the room, finally fixing his blazing eyes upon Jarod. “You! You are the one who claims to have found the body, are you not? I am curious how you happened to be near—”