Illidan by William King Page B

out. “You will find out soon enough, kaldorei. Pick out any place and get some rest. You will need your strength for the trials ahead.”
    She spun on her heel and departed. Needle raised a finger to his forehead and turned his hand through a half circle, then stepped back into a shadow and seemed to simply vanish.
    “Do not pay too much attention to Elarisiel,” said a friendly voice from nearby. “She just likes to scare the new recruits. I suspect someone did the same to her when she first came here, and she likes to spread the misery.”
    Vandel inspected the speaker. He had the ageless look of a mature night elf, which meant he could be any age from twenty years to fifteen thousand. As far as Vandel could see, he had no scars or tattoos. When he considered the matter and then looked around, he saw that none of the others in the hall did, either.
    The speaker continued. “You are a thoughtful one. And I know what you are thinking…”
    The unspoken question hung in the air.
    “Vandel is my name.”
    “Elune shines on the moment of our meeting, Vandel. I am Ravael.”
    “I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You were about to tell me what I was thinking. I am curious to know, since I am unsure myself.”
    “You are thinking what every newcomer who has ever been led into this hall thinks. That the guides are strange. You are also wondering why none of us have tattoos and all of us have eyes.”
    “There are more like that pair, then.”
    “Oh yes, my friend. Lots more. Lord Illidan is building an army of the blind.”
    “Only they are not blind, are they?”
    “No.”
    “And they have tattoos like his, only less intricate.”
    “Yes.”
    “And they are changed in ways he has changed.”
    “You are observant.”
    “I would have to be blind not to notice these things,” Vandel said before realizing the ridiculousness of that statement.
    “You think the blind here see less well than you?” Ravael asked, and just for a moment a note of hysteria sounded in his voice. Vandel was almost glad. Until that moment, Ravael had seemed so normal as to be out of place in this madhouse.
    “I think they probably see more. They had no trouble guiding me here, or avoiding anyone in their way. It is possible to memorize routes, but I cannot imagine everyone in this hall occupies the same place the whole time.”
    “You have thought things through, it seems.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I came to take vengeance, to learn to fight demons. The same reason you are here, I am guessing.”
    Vandel considered that for a moment. “Perhaps Elarisiel was right. Perhaps I am not so special.”
    “I am sure you are. After all, you got here without dying. How common do you think that is?”
    Vandel took a deep breath and looked around again. He had assumed that everyone here was mad or an invalid, but he could see now that many of them bore scars, and all of them had weapons close at hand. There were warriors here, and magi, and hunters.
    “You lost someone?” Vandel asked.
    “I lost everything,” said Ravael. He made no move to expand on that. Thinking of his own loss, Vandel saw no reason to prod him.
    “I know what that feels like,” he said.
    Ravael looked around. “Somehow, though, in this place, I feel we have even more to lose.”

M aiev felt almost relaxed. Clefthoof meat filled her belly. The long, sunny day had provided rare sport as she and her followers hunted the beasts. Enough hide lay nearby to make armor for a score of draenei soldiers. A few of them picked through it, sawing away with knives, flensing the skin. It reminded her of her long-gone youth, when she had hunted in the woods with her mother. They had made their own clothes then, cut from leather, sewn with needles of bone, using thread of sinew. The memory brought a brief smile to her face and then the return of horror. Her mother was dead, killed by the Burning Legion. That thought sent her mind circling back once more to Illidan.
    The