“Had better show results. I understand her reputation. I fail to see anything that supports it. She has badgered us over and over on a variety of leads, some of which infer that perhaps the assassins are among our own. If this is the best she can do for this matter—”
“She has been questioning everyone, Mordent. No one could be more thorough.” Malfurion sighed. “I will talk with her and see if there is anything else.”
“At least her brother has some tact, not that he has been any more efficient. Still, he shows proper respect.”
The archdruid refrained from commenting. Jarod did indeed have more tact. “We will solve this.”
“As you say,” the Highborne concluded, his tone doubtful. “Fare you well.”
Malfurion nodded, then headed toward Darnassus. However, he had not gotten far when he sensed that he was again not alone. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing. Malfurion turned his attention back to his trek.
The armored figure that now stood in the path ahead had her cloak drawn around her, turning her into a dark, ominous image that surely even Illidan had found daunting at times.
“Archdruid Malfurion,” Maiev greeted him.
He glanced over his shoulder at where he had left the Highborne. Malfurion and Maiev were uncomfortably close. “What reason brings you out here?”
“A question or two concerning the assassinations that I need Var’dyn or his master to answer. I think it might clear something up in my mind.”
“You have found something?”
She exhaled. “I would rather not say until I know how it turns out.”
Malfurion accepted that, but was still uncertain as to the wisdom of her current intentions. “You must speak with them?”
Maiev chuckled. “Have I been annoying them?”
“This is no laughing matter.”
Jarod’s sister sobered. “No. Not where the Highborne are concerned. You are right.”
“Is this questioning necessary?”
“I do nothing without reason. And you need not fear that I will upset them so much that they will go running into Darnassus. I heard about Var’dyn. That one is going to be a problem.”
“He will be fine if this all gets settled.”
She frowned, but answered, “Yes, I suppose he will.”
“Be cautious, Maiev.”
“I will be.”
With a slight bow, Jarod’s sister moved on. Malfurion watched her for a few seconds. Maiev did not look back.
He shook his head. Driven by duty, even if it means walking into danger.
Malfurion was suddenly struck by immense guilt. It was in great part due to him that she had become so obsessive with her tasks. She had watched over his brother for millennia because Malfurion had shown Illidan mercy. The archdruid felt tremendous responsibility for Maiev; he did not want to see her suffer more than she already had in her life.
And if she baited the Highborne too much while questioning them, there was a very good chance that she would suffer greatly.
Alone again, Malfurion welcomed the tranquility of the forest. The urge to simply settle down somewhere and meditate—even go to the Emerald Dream for a time—grew stronger.
But not strong enough. The Cataclysm had created many situations requiring the druids’ efforts and Malfurion was needed to guide those efforts. More important, however, was the fact that Tyrande even now moved to lead the night elves and their allies against the Horde. If there was even the slightest chance that she might need his help, Malfurion was willing to sacrifice himself, if necessary.
The local trees greeted him. They were grateful for his appearance, in great part due to the Highborne living so nearby. The spellcasters made the forest wary; the trees especially could sense the inherent danger in their magic.
The archdruid calmed the trees as best he could. However, there was little he could tell them other than that the Highborne would not be casting great spells around them. Malfurion had promised to treat Mordent’s people with respect, and part of that meant allowing them to practice their craft on occasion . . . but only in a limited way and only in a designated area closer to their encampment, where the druids had set safeguards in place. The archmage kept most of his people under control, but, as Malfurion knew, some of the more ambitious, like Var’dyn, had to be watched more. Even here, Malfurion could sense the residue of some arcane spell. Once the murders were solved, the archdruid would have to have a word with Mordent about Var’dyn’s grasp on where the line was drawn.
Malfurion continued walking as he communed with the trees and other forest life. He had to return to the temple to see to some of the more mundane aspects of leadership. There were those seeking an audience, requisitions to confirm . . . things that as an ordinary druid he would never have had to deal. It made him feel all the more guilty to think of the millennia that Tyrande had dutifully worked to see to the best for their people while he had been . . . away.
Someone else approached. Frowning, Malfurion sighted two grim Sentinels.
“Hail to you, Archdruid Malfurion,” the senior of the two greeted.
“What is it?”
“We have report of another assassination.”
The news struck Malfurion dumb for a moment. He stood there, waiting to be told they were in error, but realizing quickly that it was something that he had been expecting.
“Where?”
“In the deep woods farther north from here. The one called Neva sent the news to us, then went to find Maiev.”
Maiev. It only stood to reason that she should also be informed . . . and yet, the archdruid hesitated to go after her. He had promised the Highborne that these dread crimes would be solved. Another death would only cause things to boil over beyond even his control.
Neva will eventually inform Maiev. I need to make a study of the scene as soon as possible. . . . Having satisfied himself in regards to the notifying of Jarod’s sister, Malfurion indicated to the pair to lead the way.
The Sentinels turned. At first, out of respect for the archdruid, they kept a slower, more even pace. Only when Malfurion purposely took a step or two ahead of them did they finally seem to realize that he preferred speed over propriety.
Although he had a vague notion as to where they journeyed, he was glad that his guides knew the exact location. Malfurion had to assume either that the Highborne had been lured out here or that, like the one Jarod had discovered, the victim had been moved after death.
Even still, his impatience swelled. Eyeing yet another hill to climb, he finally asked, “How much longer?”
“According to what we were told, it should be just over this rise, Archdruid.”
“Good.” He picked up his pace again, moving ahead of the Sentinels.
The trees around him suddenly shook with warning. The archdruid glanced up at them, reading their fear. However, it was not fear for themselves . . . but rather him.
He raised a hand, already casting. At the same time Malfurion shouted, “Get back! There is a—”
He felt as if flames had burst all around him, although he could see nothing. Behind him, Malfurion heard the Sentinels scream. A horrific crackling sound assailed his ears and he suddenly felt not only as if his body were on fire but also as if his skin were being flayed.
Somehow, Malfurion managed to take a step forward. The agony increased, but for some reason the archdruid knew that his best hope was to keep pushing on. In the back of his mind he sensed that the trees were urging him.
The cries of his escorts had faded away. The archdruid could do nothing for them. First he had to save himself. If there was any chance of healing the pair, he could then try. Otherwise they were all surely dead.