Lo’Gosh howled again.
Varian leapt to his feet, awake without having noticed that he had been asleep.
Genn Greymane no longer sat directly before him, and perhaps that was a good thing, for it allowed the Gilnean monarch, originally standing a few feet away, to jump back as Varian surged forward. Even though Genn retained his worgen form, he still appeared to move as if in a dream to the king of Stormwind. The entire tableau seemed to have slowed down. Varian surveyed the other worgen, and though they were swift to recover from their shock, their movement yet struck him as slightly slower than his own.
“Goldrinn . . . ,” Genn muttered, staring. “Lo’Gosh . . . his aura . . . it surrounds you so completely. . . .”
Around them, the ears of the other worgen flattened, but in awe, not fear.
“Goldrinn truly touches your heart, your soul . . . ,” Genn murmured. “The wolf honors you, and so—so do we. . . .”
Varian said nothing, but he, too, was at last able to sense what Genn had known from the beginning. The ghost of the great wolf had made him its chosen, its champion.
And through Goldrinn—Lo’Gosh—and himself, Varian knew what had to be done next.
“I’ve been reckless, driven by not only bitterness from losing so many things—so many people—of importance to me, but also the fear of losing what little I still cherish, like my son,” Varian said to Genn and the other worgen. “But now I understand. Azeroth needs us. All of you—and me—we are what we’ve become in order to help it. And help it we must. . . .”
Silence reigned around him. Finally, Genn asked, “What would you have us do?”
Varian knew of only one thing. “We follow our destiny together . . . and we follow it to Ashenvale.”
23
Purification
Malfurion stirred. He could not say how long he had been unconscious, only that it had been quite some time. At least a day, possibly more.
As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, he noticed a more troubling thing. He could barely feel his body. It was as if his dreamform had separated from it, yet the archdruid knew that he remained on the mortal plane, not the Emerald Dream.
His head suddenly pounded. Malfurion tried to relax, and the pounding eased. That verified what he feared. He was someone’s prisoner, someone who knew something about a druid’s abilities.
Malfurion cautiously tried to open his eyes. He began with slits first and when that offered no greater pounding, he pushed for more.
What he saw was that he floated several feet above the ground. Malfurion tried to turn his head, but the pounding returned, this time accompanied by a terrible pain reminiscent of what he had suffered before someone had struck him on the head.
The archdruid was forced to shut his eyes and relax again. Once things settled, he contented himself with looking ahead and trying to guess more from what his peripheral vision offered.
His feet were barely visible and spread some distance apart. From that he judged that he was bound between two trunks. Someone had gone to great trouble to secure him, which seemed odd, considering that they could have just slain him and been done with it. The fact that they had not concerned the archdruid.
He was not far from where he had been caught in the trap. There was no sign of the Sentinels, but Malfurion was of the opinion that they had not survived. Only his power had enabled him to keep from death. Malfurion grew furious at the casual loss of two lives. The Sentinels had perished simply because the pair had been caught at the same time as the archdruid.
The nearby trees had sought to warn him, but too late. The trap had clearly been a subtle one. Malfurion almost would have sworn that it had been set just for him, or else why would it have been in his path? He regretted now not sending word to Maiev.
Something moved at the edge of his vision. A moment later it shifted enough in front of him to be none other than Jarod’s sister. Helmet in the crook of her arm, she peered around suspiciously, no doubt seeking Malfurion’s captors.
He tried to speak, but the pounding returned. Evidently he made some sort of sound, for she looked up at him.
“So, finally awake.”
And with those words, the horrifying truth flashed before the archdruid. Maiev smiled slyly in response to some sign of recognition in his expression.
“The great and powerful archdruid Malfurion Stormrage,” she announced with deep sarcasm. “The savior of the kaldorei race. . . . ” Maiev spit at the ground below him. “More like the destroyer of all that it stands for. . . .”
Despite the agony that it caused, Malfurion managed a throaty, “Why?”
Her brow cocked. “Now that is, I will admit, impressive. You should have been killed by the trap we set, and here you manage to speak coherently. You are stronger than even I had calculated.”
Maiev looked to the side. Neva and two other Watchers entered Malfurion’s view. They saluted Jarod’s sister, not at all a surprise to the prisoner.
“All is in readiness,” Neva reported. She glanced Malfurion’s way. “We should deal with him before it takes place, mistress.”
“No . . . he is good here. No one from Darnassus will come to this area. Our prey will only do so because they think they are beyond threat even now!” She eyed the archdruid. “No . . . he lives for now. I have decided he deserves a special execution.”
“Your brother—”
Maiev suddenly glared at Neva. “You know his role. You do not touch him. He will speak for us out of belief in me. Keep him ignorant and forgo your desires for now.”
Neva silently nodded, for the moment cowed.
“The fools will be on their way shortly. You lot better get with the rest.” She looked around. “Where is Ja’ara?”
“Removing that bit of evidence, as you ordered.”
Maiev snickered. “Good. With those Sentinels dead and gone, there is no one left who knows we sent for the archdruid here.” She glanced Malfurion’s way again. “Get on with it. I am just going to make sure the people’s hero enjoys his agony a bit more.”
Neva sneered at Malfurion, then led the other Watchers away. Maiev moved just out of the archdruid’s sight.
Renewed agony coursed through him. Malfurion tried to scream, but now his mouth would not work at all.
As the agony lessened, Jarod’s sister returned to his view. She now studied him with utter contempt.
“That is better. Silence is golden. Especially from you. I am so very glad you are awake, Archdruid. Neva wanted you dead and out of the way, but I have always felt you really deserve far more than a short, sweet death. You have committed so many crimes against our people. . . .”
Although he could not speak, Malfurion tried to relay his thoughts with his eyes. He must have managed, for Maiev shrugged, then answered, “No, I suppose you are blind to everything. Always so caught up in the belief you know best. But if you did, you and Tyrande would not have let those disgusting murderers back among us! There is only one future for the Highborne and it is one you will share!”
Maiev drew a dagger from her belt. She eyed it fondly. “You see this? This is special. I saved it for your brother, but never got the chance to use it. It was taken from me before I was tossed into the Warden’s Cage in Outland, and I was not able to retrieve it until after his defeat at the Black Temple. I wanted his death to be very slow, so that he would have time to understand why he had to be punished. You and he are twins, all right! Not just by birth, but by arrogance!”
She threw the dagger. Malfurion watched it fly toward him and expected his end. Yet, at the very last moment, the dagger veered of its own accord and flew past his head.
“Illidan re-creates the Well of Eternity after all the damnation it caused us! Why? Because he claimed it was for the good of our people! Then he joined the demons, becoming one of them in nature as well as form! Why? Because he again claimed that it was best for our survival to become our enemies and use their own evil against them!” she scoffed. “We know how well that turned out . . . and how false his words always were. . . .”