The thick, sturdy logs of the causeway creaked quietly beneath the wide, soft soles of the elekks, in stark contrast to the distinct footfalls of the humans’ steel-shod chargers. The elevated boardwalk had obviously been dimensioned for travellers on foot, forcing the Draenei delegates to proceed in a line, trunk to tail. The Exarchs were arranged in front of and behind the Ambassador, though there was still enough room for Theluin to continue riding alongside on soundless Saber paws while the adjutants covered the edges of the boardwalk. Conversation was kept to a minimum, however, in order to not attract unwanted attention from any potential rogue parties.
Once more bringing up the rear, Tuan and Eli rode side by side in silence. The Paladin stared ahead with unseeing eyes, letting the natural sounds of the marshland suffuse his senses. The she-rogue in turn kept craning her head around, often leaning back and bracing a hand against Sandy’s armoured rear to catch fleeting glimpses of the imposing mushroom heads far above the perpetual swamp mist.
The journey was uneventful; apart from a few tense instances when the local wildlife would suddenly appear out of the shimmering underbrush to take a closer look at the travellers out of curiosity or territorial instinct, there was nothing to impede the travelling company’s slow but steady progress.
Eli found himself staring with unmitigated fascination at a particularly striking specimen: a towering entity akin to a gargantuan tripod striding gracefully along the shallow water channels on tall, slender tentacles, crested by a small, peculiar body like an organic-looking ellipsoid disc with a single, luminescent head peeking out. Another pair of limbs, ending in broad leaf-like appendages, hung partially tucked-up like feeder tendrils in front, trailing a floating, phosphorescent dust behind the creature, which continued along its path paying little to no attention to the mounted delegation.
“A Fen Strider,” the Ambassador explained in a low voice. “They are not naturally aggressive predators, though they have been observed to possess a remarkably powerful toxin with which they bring their chosen quarry down. Most of the Zangarian fauna is characterized by absorbing the spores floating down from the great fungi stalks above, and producing various poisons and venoms either for hunting or defence.”
“That is a remarkable degree of evolutionary adaptation,” Theluin remarked quietly, almost to himself, as he studied the swamp walker intently. “Granted, it is to be expected for such a homogenized biome …”
The Ambassador cracked a light, somewhat apologetic smile at the elderly Moon Priest. “I am afraid I don’t have the requisite knowledge to indulge any further debate in that particular field, reverend. I can, however, give my near-absolute guarantee that you may find those with such specialization where we are headed. My people have been forced to survive on our wits alone in these marshlands for well over a generation, and we have learned to live off of the natural resources of the region.” Theluin inclined his head gracefully in reply.
Eventually the surrounding fungal forest opened up into a small clearing, allowing the company clear view of a sight that was both welcoming and breath-taking. The wooden causeway continued a ways further west before cropping itself off at a multi-path junction, and one of the new routes led to a particular rise of solid ground in the fen … and on top of the rise was a solitary mushroom stalk, even thicker than those surrounding it, lined with alcoves and balconies lit with lamps seemingly fuelled by the same, ethereal phosphorescence that pervaded the entire landscape. Tall, plate-armoured Draenei guards maintained a silent vigil at its base as well as patiently patrolling the immediate area, and the top of the mushroom was clearly crested with the same Draenic architecture as seen at the temple of Telhamat.
The entire company stopped as if on an unspoken cue, mutely taking in the sight. It was the Ambassador who eventually broke the breathless silence.
“Telredor was once a secluded retreat for Draenei priests and pilgrims. The resident priests seldom received visitors.” He drew a light breath, his glowing gaze riveted onto the spectacular structure ahead. “When the orcs started to attack Draenei settlements, refugees began to arrive in larger numbers. Anchorite Ahuurn and his peers transformed Telredor from a shrine into a safe haven. Many Draenei owe their survival to his efforts.”
Riding across the last stretch of causeway, the company was greeted by the temple guards, who showed with simple gestures where they could leave their various mounts tethered and cared for during their stay.
Tuan stole a peek out behind Sandy’s armoured rear and raised both her eyebrows at something above them. “So that’s how we’re getting up. I was wondering for the longest time.”
Eli glanced quickly at her. “What’d’ya mean?”
She simply nodded ahead as way of indication.
Another dozen steps away was a broad, flat platform slightly raised off of the moist marsh ground, rimmed and patterned in the same way as all Draenic designs they had encountered so far. More importantly, far above at the mushroom head’s rim was another, similar platform set into the mushroom … and from it a third separate platform descended smoothly, seemingly floating on thin air or some invisible, alien propulsion.
Now it was the Ambassador who led the way with confidence and determination. Eli continued to keep an eye on his she-rogue companion as she was obviously deeply intrigued by the strange elevator and its underlying mechanism; stamping her heels against its hard, enamelled surface and kneeling down to try and sneak a look underneath it as the delegation stepped onto the platform to be taken up to the top.
“Miss Tuan,” he mumbled under his breath as she leaned dangerously far out over the edge, nearly laid flat on her stomach. Her only reply was a continuous string of mumbles and mutterings as the woman kept flitting about, inspecting the construction avidly with little to no respect for the dignitaries stood mere yards away.
“… can’t be air cushions … not seeing any exhausts … anti-gravity? Where have they even put the generators for that?” A knuckle rapping against the platform floor. “I just don’t get this material. What’s it made of?” A bound back on her feet, and she was at the other end of the platform in the blink of an eye. “Man, imagine this kind of technology being used in a flying machine! All those Gyrocopter engineers would be outta job in an instant …”
Eli glanced helplessly at Theluin. The elderly Kaldorei merely smiled back a little defeatedly. The Paladin resolved to let the apparently unfazed expressions of the Draenei dignitaries placate his increasingly frazzled nerves.
Reaching the top of the mushroom, the elevator halted smoothly and floated horizontally over to the landing platform. As calmly as if strolling across a perfectly maintained garden meadow, the Ambassador and the Exarchs strode off the elevator and towards the entrance to the sanctuary proper, followed by their adjutants in a neat formation.
Theluin was nary a step behind, but Eli found himself held up once more by Tuan’s tomfooleries. The she-rogue was still lingering on the moving part of the elevator construct.
“Miss Tuan,” he implored between clenched teeth, holding out a hand.
Ignoring him, she stayed in place, waiting until the platform would resume its automated routine and move away from the landing … and quickly skipped across the gap, seemingly putting additional force into the kick-off. Spinning around, she dropped down on her stomach again, peering intently at the steadily receding platform – which appeared to be moving no faster than it had on its way up.
“Complete external force absorption,” she mumbled half-way to herself. “Draenei technology is amazing.”
Eli sighed heavily and closed his eyes hard. The delegation was virtually already through the temple entrance. “Miss Tuan.”
“Alright, alright …” she replied absent-mindedly, pushing herself upright again. “Comin’.”
Trying his level best to keep his own ceremonial armour from clattering egregiously, Eli hurried over to catch up with the delegation. Thankfully, he was able to be only slightly more than a step behind Theluin as the delegation crossed over the top landing that crested a joint pair of curved staircases leading down into the temple grounds proper.
Telredor looked almost nothing like its sister location Telhamat, yet it was in many ways hauntingly familiar. The sanctuary was an open-air establishment with only a few roofed archways and various simple workshops along its perimeter, some of which seemed to contain other staircases to lofty balconies and alcoves on the edges of the surrounding walls. While the sparse buildings were certainly of Draenic design, they still bore plenty of signs of having been patched up and repaired repeatedly, more often than not with local materials.
The temple’s heart was a shallow, mediocre amphitheatre, and at its center was a statue of sorts – carved in the likeness of a Draenei mother with two young daughters, all three holding rounded urns from which the clearest springwater fell in glittering cascades into the fountain’s basin. The arrangement seemed at once so simplistic yet so utterly profound; the unspoken, unsung heroes of every mortal species’ survival and self-propagation. Knowing what he knew about the Draenei’s recent history, the statue’s wordless message clenched all the more tightly around Eleazar’s heart. For once, even Tuan seemed to keep her caustic-tongued mouth shut, silently stalking along behind the Paladin.
Below them, striding up to meet them at the foot of the stairs, was an Anchorite in simple formal robes, holding his arms out with a warm smile of welcoming on his lips. “<Wordbearer Sandrokal,>” the temple leader greeted with genuine recognition in his glowing eyes. The two Draenei met in a brother’s embrace. “<It feels like no time at all, and an eternity.>”
“<Same to you, Anchorite Ahuurn,>” the Ambassador replied with no less familiarity. He stepped back smoothly, just as easily returned to his dignitarian status as the Exarchs came forward in turn, kneeling reverently to the Anchorite who gently cupped his hands in blessing over their heads.
The Ambassador motioned behind him, and Theluin and Eleazar bowed in turn. “For the sake of our escorts, I suggest that we adhere to the Common tongue of our new Alliance brethren. I trust that you have been familiarized with it?”
Anchorite Ahuurn nodded in accord, returning the gestures. “The exchange with the druidic expedition as well as other elements of explorers and researchers has done its part in easing us into the developments in this faraway realm to which our great Prophet led the exodus of our people.” His smile turned a little thoughtful. “Telredor has seen more change in the last twenty years than it did in prior centuries. I cannot complain, for the world has changed far more in that time.”
The Ambassador nodded sagely and proceeded to introduce the two non-Draenei, who exchanged the usual greeting phrases.
Ahuurn smiled in turn to each. “The Light continues to bring me new friends and acquaintances that I could not have met as a cloistered priest.” He made a sweeping gesture to the small but intimate temple grounds surrounding them. “Learn what you can of the past in your time here. It will help you understand where your journey is leading you.”
~||~
“Bored bored bored bored …”
“… Miss Tuan, s’been barely three hours since y’ got back from yer ‘mornin’ trek’.”
“And your point is?”
Eli sighed quietly to himself and returned his attention to his prayer book.
The delegation had stayed atop Telredor for several days now (much to Tuan’s intermittent protests) – as oblique as the concept of daylight was in a swamp perpetually shrouded in its own phosphorescence. Their waking hours were mostly taken up by meditation and reflection, with the odd sermon and occasional historical lessons from Ahuurn and the Draenei Ambassador.
Needless to say, Tuan kept insisting on being well out of earshot whenever the latter two were afoot. Eli had made one attempt at cornering her (as carefully as possible), and one only.
“Believe me, Eli, it’s better if I don’t.”
“But, Miss Tuan—”
She had put up her finger in front of his face, silencing him as effectively as ever with a light, ironic smirk. “Sermons make me fall asleep, Eli. I’d much rather be useful elsewhere and, hence, do the audience the honour of not having to listen to my snores.”
And with that, she had vanished up the staircase to the elevator, leaving a thoroughly disgruntled Paladin behind.
As little interest as the she-rogue kept paying to the spiritual purposes of the sanctuary, Eli had to admit that she wasn’t making herself useless. While not a trained hunter, she always returned from her forays with a hunter’s share of strange body parts and meats for the crafters and suppliers, whenever she didn’t spend the occasional hour at the temple’s small smithy, either having her equipment repaired or banging away on one of her own contraptions.
Fortunately, there were other members of the Alliance present: a male Dwarven prospector and a female Gnomish engineer. In the privacy of his mind, Eli couldn’t quite get over what a monumental pair of opposites they were. The dwarf, a rather gruff and driven fellow named Conall, appeared to have arrived in the wake of a full group from the Explorer’s League, sent alongside the Cenarion Expedition to map out the foreign landscape and the general distributions of the wildlife. Near as Eli could tell, the prospector had been dispatched to “deal with” some particularly nasty specimens that had – by Conall’s own assessments – driven off the previous researchers. How a solitary prospector was supposed to “deal with” marauding predators that had sent an entire team of grizzled Explorer’s League veterans scampering was beyond Eli, but judging from the semi-regular (and somewhat soaked) conversations Tuan had had so far with the dwarf, it didn’t seem too far off to assume that some kind of solution was within reach.
The gnome engineer, by stark contrast, was among the bubbliest gnomes Eli had ever had the minutely dubious pleasure to encounter. The Paladin could always tell without fail whenever Tuan had found her way over to the diminutive workswoman’s tinkering corner – that was when the most incomprehensible continuous run-on sentences of engineering jargon would come floating through the temple grounds, carried by the typical high-pitched gnomish female voice and turned up further by a cheerfulness that should be infuriatingly grating but somehow miraculously never were.
Closing his prayer book, Eli looked up to find Theluin at the Priest’s adopted meditation spot – sitting cross-legged with his back against the fountain’s side, head lightly bowed and hands cradled in his lap, the staff that served as his emblem of station resting in the crook of one elbow while the fountain water murmured ceaselessly in his long, downswept ears. Considering how mind-bogglingly old the Night Elf truly was, it was always a little baffling that he was still lithe enough to assume such postures so effortlessly and get up from them even after hours of immobility. Eli liked to sustain the private theory that some of the elderly Moon Priest’s background as a hibernating Druid of the Cenarion Circle had stuck around even in the Night Elf’s current occupation. That, or Kaldorei were just that agile.
Book in hand, Eli rose quietly from his seat on one of the low stone benches lining the lowest level of the small amphitheatre and wandered over to his old friend, sitting down on another bench across from Theluin. The latter drew a light, slow breath, and after a few pensive heartbeats raised his head to look at the Paladin with calm, tranquil eyes.
“All’s well?” Theluin inquired gently; mostly out of conversationalist habit.
“I s’pose,” Eli replied, if a little thoughtfully.
The Night Elf’s posture and expression didn’t change noticeably; nevertheless, the aged Kaldorei now exuded an aura of quiet, patient attentiveness.
“S’nothin’ in particular,” Eli continued somewhat quickly and a mite apologetically. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“We’ve been through quite a bit a’ready, sir Theluin,” he began tentatively. “An’ while I rec’nize that we pro’lly won’t be lauded like war heroes when we eventually return t’ Azeroth, I still feel that we’ve been a part o’ history in th’ makin’, y’ know?” He became wistful for a moment. “Jus’ pullin’ th’ weight we could, but those li’l gravel pieces we dislodged will one day make way fer a full-on landslide.”
Theluin let show a small, but kind smile. “I can very much relate.”
Eli caught himself and chuckled a little awkwardly. “Yeah … I’d say you can, sir Theluin.” It was always easy to forget how much history the ancient, unassuming Moon Priest had already experienced more or less first-hand.
The Paladin adjusted his seat somewhat. “It’s what Anchorite Ahuurn said when we first ‘rived here.” He shifted his hands on his little prayer book, almost unconsciously. “To ‘learn what we can of the past’, so we can unnerstand our future better.” Eli drew a little breath and looked directly at his old friend. “An’ I’m comin’ to the unnerstandin’ that I might be missin’ a couple important pieces o’ history ta really make the puzzle come t’gether, y’know?”
Theluin nodded gently. “Go on.”
Eli drew another breath, lowering his voice discreetly. “I guess what I’m tryin’ t’ ask is … why’s Illidan so intent on raisin’ up an army of his own, usin’ Magtheridon’s blood? What’s his motivation for that?” He paused momentarily. “Aside from someone appar’ntly wantin’ his head on a pike …”
Theluin fell silent for several heartbeats, letting his gaze wander down into his lap as he carefully thought over his reply. Accustomed to the Kaldorei’s mannerism, Eleazar waited patiently.
“You do not know the Betrayer, my young friend,” Theluin eventually began his reply. “I doubt there is anyone left who does … aside from Lady Tyrande, and of course his blood-brother, Shan’do Malfurion.”
“I know the basics of his early history,” Eli chimed in, and then smiled briefly. “Y’ helped a great deal, getting th’ clearance on those historical scrolls.”
Theluin nodded, smiling in turn. “The War of the Ancients, and the Betrayer’s incarceration. I suppose it is the details of the events of the Third War that you are interested in?”
“What you can tell me, sir Theluin,” Eli replied sincerely.
Again, Theluin spent a moment to gather his thoughts.
“You must understand that most, if not all, of what I am about to tell you is what I have myself researched in the aftermath of the Third War – seeing as I spent the lion’s share of the campaign in druidic hibernation.” The elderly Kaldorei shifted his seat discreetly. “What is known, beyond a doubt, is that Illidan did acquire a warlock artefact of great demonic power and absorbed its energies to become the entity he is now. With that power, he slew Tichondrius, the Dreadlord in command of the combined Legion and Scourge forces marching through northern Ashenvale – the area now known simply as Felwood.”
Eli nodded. “I know that much myself. It’s … well, it’s the rest that eludes me.”
Theluin smiled weakly. “It is understandable, my friend. These matters are a perpetual sore spot for my kin to even contemplate.” Eleazar nodded again in understanding, and fell silent once more.
“The next series of events is, for that exact reason, known only by a select few – me included.” Theluin paused again, seemingly to collect his wits, and when he continued, his voice was decidedly low.
“Once the Battle of Mount Hyjal had concluded, Illidan’s whereabouts became murky – in more than one sense. This is where the first recorded incidents of Naga assaults appear, and according to what I have been able to derive, it was indeed Illidan himself who summoned them from the depths of the ocean to become his personal army of conquest. Illidan’s jailor, Maiev Shadowsong—” Eli nodded quietly in recognition of the name. “—went on a hunt of her own to track down and capture her charge. She had never truly forgiven Lady Tyrande for freeing the Betrayer in the first place.” Theluin shook his head sadly.
“The hunt took Maiev, along with Tyrande and Malfurion, across the sea to the Eastern Kingdoms, where they discovered that Illidan planned to use an artifact of unfathomable power to shatter the very roof of the world. He was ultimately foiled … but he did manage to claw back some semblance of redemption by saving Lady Tyrande from an onslaught of Undead. After that, he once again escaped into obscurity, while the Night Elven expedition returned to Kalimdor.”
Eli blinked in surprise. “… the Betrayer saved the High Priestess?”
Theluin paused and blinked in momentary confusion. “… indeed he did.” The elderly Kaldorei turned his head to look at his far younger companion, a faint, somewhat lopsided smile forming on his lips. “Lady Tyrande is quite possibly the only living being on Azeroth’s fair earth that has ever managed to wrest Illidan’s attention away from his own desires, however fleetingly.”
Eli boggled quietly. “He’s … he’s got a crush on her, ain’t he.” The Paladin scratched his neck in disbelief. Theluin did not reply, but his smile became more noticeable.
“So …” Eleazar did his best to ignore the awkward moment that had crept in. “What happened after that?”
Theluin, again, took a moment to peruse his memory. “… at this point, everything becomes mere speculation, save for the memory of those involved. I do know that Illidan escaped through an arcane portal, while Maiev tailed him in furious pursuit.” Theluin paused, and then his voice took on a distant timbre. “She has become vengeance itself, bound forever to the hunt … and we can only hope that whatever path her fury leads her onto, she will not end up causing even more havoc that Illidan has already proven guilty of.”
Eli fidgeted. “… if Illidan is here in Outland …” He couldn’t help feeling his hands clench around his prayer book.
Theluin merely met the Paladin’s stare with a knowing gaze. “For all he has done, for all he has contributed to where we are now … the one and only thing Illidan has ever cared more about than power and its accumulation is himself. Deep down, he must have known that his choices would return to haunt him. As changed as he may now be, he still knows. That is, most likely, why he is doing what he is doing.”
Eleazar remained silent for the longest time; eventually releasing the knots in his shoulders and back. “… now that y’ say that … I … kinda feel sorry fer him.”
Theluin smiled; a sad, empathic smile. “I am sure Illidan would have appreciated that sentiment … sincerely or not.”
They both fell into silence, allowing the never-ending murmur of the temple fountain to suffuse the air.
“That was quite the exposition. You sure I shouldn’t call the innkeeper over for refreshments?”
Eli spun around fast enough to nearly drop his prayer book. Certainly, the incorrigible she-rogue was languorously stood behind them, arms casually crossed over her chest as she leaned herself with the outmost dearth of commitment against a curved lamp post fashioned from marshland wood.
Eli breathed out loudly. “Light help me, Miss Tuan, but yeh really need ta lay off that eavesdroppin’ habit,” he sighed heavily.
“Scaredypants,” she quipped back with a toothy smirk, nonchalantly heaving herself off her perch and sauntering over the Paladin and Priest, where she promptly flopped down onto the bench next to Eli who had to scoot aside quickly to give her room. “So Illidan is the reason those naga even exist as an actual contender in Azeroth then.” She stretched out her tall legs with abandon, bracing her hands on the bench edge behind her.
“Put exceedingly simply: yes,” Theluin replied with his usual infinite tranquillity.
Then he suddenly caught himself; his eyes widening ever so slightly with a new realisation. “Elune’s Light,” he breathed to himself. “Why didn’t I recall that sooner …”
Eli blinked and looked at the elderly Night Elf. “Come again?”
Tuan didn’t move much from her slaggard seat nor did she speak, but her gaze had suddenly become riveted onto the Moon Priest.
Theluin drew a light breath, as if to recompose himself. When he spoke, his voice was very, very quiet. “Tuan … what do you know about the recent history of Kael’thas?”
Eli felt his neck hairs stand on end as he recognized the tone of conversation that had entered the atmosphere.
Tuan arched an eyebrow, replying in the same furtive volume. “He’s the last sovereign monarch of the Blood Elves and named them such after the Sunwell went up in a cloud of Scourgesmoke?”
Theluin met her eyes. “Directly following that.”
Tuan blinked, and then let her head fall back, staring into the sky. “Lessee … he got slammer’d by this particularly racist human Grand Marshal on charges of treason because he had apparently consorted with—”
She cut herself off abruptly, her head falling forward and down onto her chest. “… huh.” She slowly shifted her posture forward, pulling her feet in and resting her elbows onto her knees while she stared into the floorboards of the platform beneath them.
Eli found himself glancing back and forth between the mismatched pair of companions. “… I’m missin’ somethin’ here, aren’t I?” he mumbled.
Theluin turned his glowing gaze to the Paladin; the aged Kaldorei’s voice never rose more than absolutely necessary. “Kael’thas was charged with treason after he was effectively caught accepting help from a local force of naga while struggling to carry out the Grand Marshal’s – admittedly rather strenuous – battle orders.”
The proverbial lightbulb went up for Eleazar. “The naga here in this marsh … they are working with Kael’thas? On Illidan’s orders?”
Theluin’s expression became pensive. “That is on the assumption that there is an actual connection between Illidan and Kael’thas directly. It could be a bit of a stretch, seeing as most naga are subservient only to their adulation of their crazed queen, Azshara … but if the naga force that Illidan originally summoned would have a sufficiently close relationship to, or even be the same as, the force that according to the records was inferred to have allied with Kael’thas’ troops …”
Eleazar felt the gears turn in his head. “Are y’ sayin’ that Illidan and Kael’thas might even have met?”
“It is not impossible.” Theluin stared aside, his eyes far away in the mists of history. “If Kael’thas would have sought Illidan’s counsel to combat the blood elves’ mounting arcane withdrawal …”
“I ran into blood elves a couple times while scouring Bloodmyst for an excuse to make quick cash,” Tuan chimed in quietly. “Every single one had this green eyeglow thing.”
“Illidan has used fel magic ta corrupt Kael’thas an’ his blood elves?” Eleazar had to fight to keep his voice level. “Tha’s why Kael’s gone rogue?”
“Rather, he would have presented it as a possible source of magic energy in lieu of the Sunwell,” Theluin replied. “You have to keep in mind that Illidan is himself part demon at this point. But, yes … once infused with demonic power, there is every opportunity for any Elf, man or beast to take a turn for the worst.”
A heavy, foreboding silence fell … duly shattered by Tuan glibly bounding up from her seat.
“Welp, looks like I should get going on my latest errands. This mushroom collector dude wanted me to poke around a bit to the northeast, something about water levels and bog lords, yada yada.” She skipped off without a second glance back, throwing a wave in the air. “Smell ya later!”
Eli stared dumbfounded after her for several seconds, until Theluin finally startled him out of his stupor by standing smoothly, seemingly oblivious to the she-rogue’s coarse manners (let alone the fact that the Night Elf had effectively never moved from his seat for the past several hours). Calmly adjusting his robes, the elderly Moon Priest turned and inclined his head to Anchorite Ahuurn who was approaching from the other direction.
Ahuurn returned the gesture with a kind smile. “I trust that I did not scare your companion off too harshly,” he remarked with a gently humorous glint in his eyes. “I plan to host a more thorough sermon later this evening; I would very much like for everyone to be present if willing. Wordbearer Sandrokal has informed me that he and his kinsmen intend to continue their pilgrimage in three days, and I hope that I may send them off with suitably fortified spirits.”
Eli quickly caught back on to his diplomatic training. “O’ course, sir Ahuurn. We’d be happy to attend.”
Ahuurn bowed in thanks, the gestured mirrored by Paladin and Priest, and the Anchorite strode off through the temple grounds again.
Eli took a moment to put two and two together. “… she spotted ‘im comin’, didn’ she,” he mumbled to Theluin.
Theluin’s faint smile was distinctly defeated this time.
Eli sighed quietly to himself. “Well, at least she’s being straightforward about it. Though ‘blunt’ is prol’ly a better way ta put it.”
Theluin began wandering towards the temple’s lodgings, and Eli matched his pace accordingly. “She has never put much stock into falsified politeness. In that sense, she is exceedingly reliable to be mercilessly honest – however uncomfortable she ends up making her surroundings in the process.”
“Doesn’t seem like a very compatible trait, given her … well, her vocation,” Eli remarked with his eyebrows raised.
Theluin smiled absent-mindedly. “She knows when to be discreet … and when not to be.”
“Somehow I get th’ impression she enjoys that latter bit way too much,” the Paladin muttered.
The Moon Priest glanced at his much younger friend and smiled that faint, defeated smile again. “Possibly.”
---
“That is a remarkable degree of evolutionary adaptation,” Theluin remarked quietly, almost to himself, as he studied the swamp walker intently. “Granted, it is to be expected for such a homogenized biome …”
The Ambassador cracked a light, somewhat apologetic smile at the elderly Moon Priest. “I am afraid I don’t have the requisite knowledge to indulge any further debate in that particular field, reverend. I can, however, give my near-absolute guarantee that you may find those with such specialization where we are headed. My people have been forced to survive on our wits alone in these marshlands for well over a generation, and we have learned to live off of the natural resources of the region.” Theluin inclined his head gracefully in reply.
Eventually the surrounding fungal forest opened up into a small clearing, allowing the company clear view of a sight that was both welcoming and breath-taking. The wooden causeway continued a ways further west before cropping itself off at a multi-path junction, and one of the new routes led to a particular rise of solid ground in the fen … and on top of the rise was a solitary mushroom stalk, even thicker than those surrounding it, lined with alcoves and balconies lit with lamps seemingly fuelled by the same, ethereal phosphorescence that pervaded the entire landscape. Tall, plate-armoured Draenei guards maintained a silent vigil at its base as well as patiently patrolling the immediate area, and the top of the mushroom was clearly crested with the same Draenic architecture as seen at the temple of Telhamat.
The entire company stopped as if on an unspoken cue, mutely taking in the sight. It was the Ambassador who eventually broke the breathless silence.
“Telredor was once a secluded retreat for Draenei priests and pilgrims. The resident priests seldom received visitors.” He drew a light breath, his glowing gaze riveted onto the spectacular structure ahead. “When the orcs started to attack Draenei settlements, refugees began to arrive in larger numbers. Anchorite Ahuurn and his peers transformed Telredor from a shrine into a safe haven. Many Draenei owe their survival to his efforts.”
Riding across the last stretch of causeway, the company was greeted by the temple guards, who showed with simple gestures where they could leave their various mounts tethered and cared for during their stay.
Tuan stole a peek out behind Sandy’s armoured rear and raised both her eyebrows at something above them. “So that’s how we’re getting up. I was wondering for the longest time.”
Eli glanced quickly at her. “What’d’ya mean?”
She simply nodded ahead as way of indication.
Another dozen steps away was a broad, flat platform slightly raised off of the moist marsh ground, rimmed and patterned in the same way as all Draenic designs they had encountered so far. More importantly, far above at the mushroom head’s rim was another, similar platform set into the mushroom … and from it a third separate platform descended smoothly, seemingly floating on thin air or some invisible, alien propulsion.
Now it was the Ambassador who led the way with confidence and determination. Eli continued to keep an eye on his she-rogue companion as she was obviously deeply intrigued by the strange elevator and its underlying mechanism; stamping her heels against its hard, enamelled surface and kneeling down to try and sneak a look underneath it as the delegation stepped onto the platform to be taken up to the top.
“Miss Tuan,” he mumbled under his breath as she leaned dangerously far out over the edge, nearly laid flat on her stomach. Her only reply was a continuous string of mumbles and mutterings as the woman kept flitting about, inspecting the construction avidly with little to no respect for the dignitaries stood mere yards away.
“… can’t be air cushions … not seeing any exhausts … anti-gravity? Where have they even put the generators for that?” A knuckle rapping against the platform floor. “I just don’t get this material. What’s it made of?” A bound back on her feet, and she was at the other end of the platform in the blink of an eye. “Man, imagine this kind of technology being used in a flying machine! All those Gyrocopter engineers would be outta job in an instant …”
Eli glanced helplessly at Theluin. The elderly Kaldorei merely smiled back a little defeatedly. The Paladin resolved to let the apparently unfazed expressions of the Draenei dignitaries placate his increasingly frazzled nerves.
Reaching the top of the mushroom, the elevator halted smoothly and floated horizontally over to the landing platform. As calmly as if strolling across a perfectly maintained garden meadow, the Ambassador and the Exarchs strode off the elevator and towards the entrance to the sanctuary proper, followed by their adjutants in a neat formation.
Theluin was nary a step behind, but Eli found himself held up once more by Tuan’s tomfooleries. The she-rogue was still lingering on the moving part of the elevator construct.
“Miss Tuan,” he implored between clenched teeth, holding out a hand.
Ignoring him, she stayed in place, waiting until the platform would resume its automated routine and move away from the landing … and quickly skipped across the gap, seemingly putting additional force into the kick-off. Spinning around, she dropped down on her stomach again, peering intently at the steadily receding platform – which appeared to be moving no faster than it had on its way up.
“Complete external force absorption,” she mumbled half-way to herself. “Draenei technology is amazing.”
Eli sighed heavily and closed his eyes hard. The delegation was virtually already through the temple entrance. “Miss Tuan.”
“Alright, alright …” she replied absent-mindedly, pushing herself upright again. “Comin’.”
Trying his level best to keep his own ceremonial armour from clattering egregiously, Eli hurried over to catch up with the delegation. Thankfully, he was able to be only slightly more than a step behind Theluin as the delegation crossed over the top landing that crested a joint pair of curved staircases leading down into the temple grounds proper.
Telredor looked almost nothing like its sister location Telhamat, yet it was in many ways hauntingly familiar. The sanctuary was an open-air establishment with only a few roofed archways and various simple workshops along its perimeter, some of which seemed to contain other staircases to lofty balconies and alcoves on the edges of the surrounding walls. While the sparse buildings were certainly of Draenic design, they still bore plenty of signs of having been patched up and repaired repeatedly, more often than not with local materials.
The temple’s heart was a shallow, mediocre amphitheatre, and at its center was a statue of sorts – carved in the likeness of a Draenei mother with two young daughters, all three holding rounded urns from which the clearest springwater fell in glittering cascades into the fountain’s basin. The arrangement seemed at once so simplistic yet so utterly profound; the unspoken, unsung heroes of every mortal species’ survival and self-propagation. Knowing what he knew about the Draenei’s recent history, the statue’s wordless message clenched all the more tightly around Eleazar’s heart. For once, even Tuan seemed to keep her caustic-tongued mouth shut, silently stalking along behind the Paladin.
Below them, striding up to meet them at the foot of the stairs, was an Anchorite in simple formal robes, holding his arms out with a warm smile of welcoming on his lips. “<Wordbearer Sandrokal,>” the temple leader greeted with genuine recognition in his glowing eyes. The two Draenei met in a brother’s embrace. “<It feels like no time at all, and an eternity.>”
“<Same to you, Anchorite Ahuurn,>” the Ambassador replied with no less familiarity. He stepped back smoothly, just as easily returned to his dignitarian status as the Exarchs came forward in turn, kneeling reverently to the Anchorite who gently cupped his hands in blessing over their heads.
The Ambassador motioned behind him, and Theluin and Eleazar bowed in turn. “For the sake of our escorts, I suggest that we adhere to the Common tongue of our new Alliance brethren. I trust that you have been familiarized with it?”
Anchorite Ahuurn nodded in accord, returning the gestures. “The exchange with the druidic expedition as well as other elements of explorers and researchers has done its part in easing us into the developments in this faraway realm to which our great Prophet led the exodus of our people.” His smile turned a little thoughtful. “Telredor has seen more change in the last twenty years than it did in prior centuries. I cannot complain, for the world has changed far more in that time.”
The Ambassador nodded sagely and proceeded to introduce the two non-Draenei, who exchanged the usual greeting phrases.
Ahuurn smiled in turn to each. “The Light continues to bring me new friends and acquaintances that I could not have met as a cloistered priest.” He made a sweeping gesture to the small but intimate temple grounds surrounding them. “Learn what you can of the past in your time here. It will help you understand where your journey is leading you.”
~||~
“Bored bored bored bored …”
“… Miss Tuan, s’been barely three hours since y’ got back from yer ‘mornin’ trek’.”
“And your point is?”
Eli sighed quietly to himself and returned his attention to his prayer book.
The delegation had stayed atop Telredor for several days now (much to Tuan’s intermittent protests) – as oblique as the concept of daylight was in a swamp perpetually shrouded in its own phosphorescence. Their waking hours were mostly taken up by meditation and reflection, with the odd sermon and occasional historical lessons from Ahuurn and the Draenei Ambassador.
Needless to say, Tuan kept insisting on being well out of earshot whenever the latter two were afoot. Eli had made one attempt at cornering her (as carefully as possible), and one only.
“Believe me, Eli, it’s better if I don’t.”
“But, Miss Tuan—”
She had put up her finger in front of his face, silencing him as effectively as ever with a light, ironic smirk. “Sermons make me fall asleep, Eli. I’d much rather be useful elsewhere and, hence, do the audience the honour of not having to listen to my snores.”
And with that, she had vanished up the staircase to the elevator, leaving a thoroughly disgruntled Paladin behind.
As little interest as the she-rogue kept paying to the spiritual purposes of the sanctuary, Eli had to admit that she wasn’t making herself useless. While not a trained hunter, she always returned from her forays with a hunter’s share of strange body parts and meats for the crafters and suppliers, whenever she didn’t spend the occasional hour at the temple’s small smithy, either having her equipment repaired or banging away on one of her own contraptions.
Fortunately, there were other members of the Alliance present: a male Dwarven prospector and a female Gnomish engineer. In the privacy of his mind, Eli couldn’t quite get over what a monumental pair of opposites they were. The dwarf, a rather gruff and driven fellow named Conall, appeared to have arrived in the wake of a full group from the Explorer’s League, sent alongside the Cenarion Expedition to map out the foreign landscape and the general distributions of the wildlife. Near as Eli could tell, the prospector had been dispatched to “deal with” some particularly nasty specimens that had – by Conall’s own assessments – driven off the previous researchers. How a solitary prospector was supposed to “deal with” marauding predators that had sent an entire team of grizzled Explorer’s League veterans scampering was beyond Eli, but judging from the semi-regular (and somewhat soaked) conversations Tuan had had so far with the dwarf, it didn’t seem too far off to assume that some kind of solution was within reach.
The gnome engineer, by stark contrast, was among the bubbliest gnomes Eli had ever had the minutely dubious pleasure to encounter. The Paladin could always tell without fail whenever Tuan had found her way over to the diminutive workswoman’s tinkering corner – that was when the most incomprehensible continuous run-on sentences of engineering jargon would come floating through the temple grounds, carried by the typical high-pitched gnomish female voice and turned up further by a cheerfulness that should be infuriatingly grating but somehow miraculously never were.
Closing his prayer book, Eli looked up to find Theluin at the Priest’s adopted meditation spot – sitting cross-legged with his back against the fountain’s side, head lightly bowed and hands cradled in his lap, the staff that served as his emblem of station resting in the crook of one elbow while the fountain water murmured ceaselessly in his long, downswept ears. Considering how mind-bogglingly old the Night Elf truly was, it was always a little baffling that he was still lithe enough to assume such postures so effortlessly and get up from them even after hours of immobility. Eli liked to sustain the private theory that some of the elderly Moon Priest’s background as a hibernating Druid of the Cenarion Circle had stuck around even in the Night Elf’s current occupation. That, or Kaldorei were just that agile.
Book in hand, Eli rose quietly from his seat on one of the low stone benches lining the lowest level of the small amphitheatre and wandered over to his old friend, sitting down on another bench across from Theluin. The latter drew a light, slow breath, and after a few pensive heartbeats raised his head to look at the Paladin with calm, tranquil eyes.
“All’s well?” Theluin inquired gently; mostly out of conversationalist habit.
“I s’pose,” Eli replied, if a little thoughtfully.
The Night Elf’s posture and expression didn’t change noticeably; nevertheless, the aged Kaldorei now exuded an aura of quiet, patient attentiveness.
“S’nothin’ in particular,” Eli continued somewhat quickly and a mite apologetically. He took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“We’ve been through quite a bit a’ready, sir Theluin,” he began tentatively. “An’ while I rec’nize that we pro’lly won’t be lauded like war heroes when we eventually return t’ Azeroth, I still feel that we’ve been a part o’ history in th’ makin’, y’ know?” He became wistful for a moment. “Jus’ pullin’ th’ weight we could, but those li’l gravel pieces we dislodged will one day make way fer a full-on landslide.”
Theluin let show a small, but kind smile. “I can very much relate.”
Eli caught himself and chuckled a little awkwardly. “Yeah … I’d say you can, sir Theluin.” It was always easy to forget how much history the ancient, unassuming Moon Priest had already experienced more or less first-hand.
The Paladin adjusted his seat somewhat. “It’s what Anchorite Ahuurn said when we first ‘rived here.” He shifted his hands on his little prayer book, almost unconsciously. “To ‘learn what we can of the past’, so we can unnerstand our future better.” Eli drew a little breath and looked directly at his old friend. “An’ I’m comin’ to the unnerstandin’ that I might be missin’ a couple important pieces o’ history ta really make the puzzle come t’gether, y’know?”
Theluin nodded gently. “Go on.”
Eli drew another breath, lowering his voice discreetly. “I guess what I’m tryin’ t’ ask is … why’s Illidan so intent on raisin’ up an army of his own, usin’ Magtheridon’s blood? What’s his motivation for that?” He paused momentarily. “Aside from someone appar’ntly wantin’ his head on a pike …”
Theluin fell silent for several heartbeats, letting his gaze wander down into his lap as he carefully thought over his reply. Accustomed to the Kaldorei’s mannerism, Eleazar waited patiently.
“You do not know the Betrayer, my young friend,” Theluin eventually began his reply. “I doubt there is anyone left who does … aside from Lady Tyrande, and of course his blood-brother, Shan’do Malfurion.”
“I know the basics of his early history,” Eli chimed in, and then smiled briefly. “Y’ helped a great deal, getting th’ clearance on those historical scrolls.”
Theluin nodded, smiling in turn. “The War of the Ancients, and the Betrayer’s incarceration. I suppose it is the details of the events of the Third War that you are interested in?”
“What you can tell me, sir Theluin,” Eli replied sincerely.
Again, Theluin spent a moment to gather his thoughts.
“You must understand that most, if not all, of what I am about to tell you is what I have myself researched in the aftermath of the Third War – seeing as I spent the lion’s share of the campaign in druidic hibernation.” The elderly Kaldorei shifted his seat discreetly. “What is known, beyond a doubt, is that Illidan did acquire a warlock artefact of great demonic power and absorbed its energies to become the entity he is now. With that power, he slew Tichondrius, the Dreadlord in command of the combined Legion and Scourge forces marching through northern Ashenvale – the area now known simply as Felwood.”
Eli nodded. “I know that much myself. It’s … well, it’s the rest that eludes me.”
Theluin smiled weakly. “It is understandable, my friend. These matters are a perpetual sore spot for my kin to even contemplate.” Eleazar nodded again in understanding, and fell silent once more.
“The next series of events is, for that exact reason, known only by a select few – me included.” Theluin paused again, seemingly to collect his wits, and when he continued, his voice was decidedly low.
“Once the Battle of Mount Hyjal had concluded, Illidan’s whereabouts became murky – in more than one sense. This is where the first recorded incidents of Naga assaults appear, and according to what I have been able to derive, it was indeed Illidan himself who summoned them from the depths of the ocean to become his personal army of conquest. Illidan’s jailor, Maiev Shadowsong—” Eli nodded quietly in recognition of the name. “—went on a hunt of her own to track down and capture her charge. She had never truly forgiven Lady Tyrande for freeing the Betrayer in the first place.” Theluin shook his head sadly.
“The hunt took Maiev, along with Tyrande and Malfurion, across the sea to the Eastern Kingdoms, where they discovered that Illidan planned to use an artifact of unfathomable power to shatter the very roof of the world. He was ultimately foiled … but he did manage to claw back some semblance of redemption by saving Lady Tyrande from an onslaught of Undead. After that, he once again escaped into obscurity, while the Night Elven expedition returned to Kalimdor.”
Eli blinked in surprise. “… the Betrayer saved the High Priestess?”
Theluin paused and blinked in momentary confusion. “… indeed he did.” The elderly Kaldorei turned his head to look at his far younger companion, a faint, somewhat lopsided smile forming on his lips. “Lady Tyrande is quite possibly the only living being on Azeroth’s fair earth that has ever managed to wrest Illidan’s attention away from his own desires, however fleetingly.”
Eli boggled quietly. “He’s … he’s got a crush on her, ain’t he.” The Paladin scratched his neck in disbelief. Theluin did not reply, but his smile became more noticeable.
“So …” Eleazar did his best to ignore the awkward moment that had crept in. “What happened after that?”
Theluin, again, took a moment to peruse his memory. “… at this point, everything becomes mere speculation, save for the memory of those involved. I do know that Illidan escaped through an arcane portal, while Maiev tailed him in furious pursuit.” Theluin paused, and then his voice took on a distant timbre. “She has become vengeance itself, bound forever to the hunt … and we can only hope that whatever path her fury leads her onto, she will not end up causing even more havoc that Illidan has already proven guilty of.”
Eli fidgeted. “… if Illidan is here in Outland …” He couldn’t help feeling his hands clench around his prayer book.
Theluin merely met the Paladin’s stare with a knowing gaze. “For all he has done, for all he has contributed to where we are now … the one and only thing Illidan has ever cared more about than power and its accumulation is himself. Deep down, he must have known that his choices would return to haunt him. As changed as he may now be, he still knows. That is, most likely, why he is doing what he is doing.”
Eleazar remained silent for the longest time; eventually releasing the knots in his shoulders and back. “… now that y’ say that … I … kinda feel sorry fer him.”
Theluin smiled; a sad, empathic smile. “I am sure Illidan would have appreciated that sentiment … sincerely or not.”
They both fell into silence, allowing the never-ending murmur of the temple fountain to suffuse the air.
“That was quite the exposition. You sure I shouldn’t call the innkeeper over for refreshments?”
Eli spun around fast enough to nearly drop his prayer book. Certainly, the incorrigible she-rogue was languorously stood behind them, arms casually crossed over her chest as she leaned herself with the outmost dearth of commitment against a curved lamp post fashioned from marshland wood.
Eli breathed out loudly. “Light help me, Miss Tuan, but yeh really need ta lay off that eavesdroppin’ habit,” he sighed heavily.
“Scaredypants,” she quipped back with a toothy smirk, nonchalantly heaving herself off her perch and sauntering over the Paladin and Priest, where she promptly flopped down onto the bench next to Eli who had to scoot aside quickly to give her room. “So Illidan is the reason those naga even exist as an actual contender in Azeroth then.” She stretched out her tall legs with abandon, bracing her hands on the bench edge behind her.
“Put exceedingly simply: yes,” Theluin replied with his usual infinite tranquillity.
Then he suddenly caught himself; his eyes widening ever so slightly with a new realisation. “Elune’s Light,” he breathed to himself. “Why didn’t I recall that sooner …”
Eli blinked and looked at the elderly Night Elf. “Come again?”
Tuan didn’t move much from her slaggard seat nor did she speak, but her gaze had suddenly become riveted onto the Moon Priest.
Theluin drew a light breath, as if to recompose himself. When he spoke, his voice was very, very quiet. “Tuan … what do you know about the recent history of Kael’thas?”
Eli felt his neck hairs stand on end as he recognized the tone of conversation that had entered the atmosphere.
Tuan arched an eyebrow, replying in the same furtive volume. “He’s the last sovereign monarch of the Blood Elves and named them such after the Sunwell went up in a cloud of Scourgesmoke?”
Theluin met her eyes. “Directly following that.”
Tuan blinked, and then let her head fall back, staring into the sky. “Lessee … he got slammer’d by this particularly racist human Grand Marshal on charges of treason because he had apparently consorted with—”
She cut herself off abruptly, her head falling forward and down onto her chest. “… huh.” She slowly shifted her posture forward, pulling her feet in and resting her elbows onto her knees while she stared into the floorboards of the platform beneath them.
Eli found himself glancing back and forth between the mismatched pair of companions. “… I’m missin’ somethin’ here, aren’t I?” he mumbled.
Theluin turned his glowing gaze to the Paladin; the aged Kaldorei’s voice never rose more than absolutely necessary. “Kael’thas was charged with treason after he was effectively caught accepting help from a local force of naga while struggling to carry out the Grand Marshal’s – admittedly rather strenuous – battle orders.”
The proverbial lightbulb went up for Eleazar. “The naga here in this marsh … they are working with Kael’thas? On Illidan’s orders?”
Theluin’s expression became pensive. “That is on the assumption that there is an actual connection between Illidan and Kael’thas directly. It could be a bit of a stretch, seeing as most naga are subservient only to their adulation of their crazed queen, Azshara … but if the naga force that Illidan originally summoned would have a sufficiently close relationship to, or even be the same as, the force that according to the records was inferred to have allied with Kael’thas’ troops …”
Eleazar felt the gears turn in his head. “Are y’ sayin’ that Illidan and Kael’thas might even have met?”
“It is not impossible.” Theluin stared aside, his eyes far away in the mists of history. “If Kael’thas would have sought Illidan’s counsel to combat the blood elves’ mounting arcane withdrawal …”
“I ran into blood elves a couple times while scouring Bloodmyst for an excuse to make quick cash,” Tuan chimed in quietly. “Every single one had this green eyeglow thing.”
“Illidan has used fel magic ta corrupt Kael’thas an’ his blood elves?” Eleazar had to fight to keep his voice level. “Tha’s why Kael’s gone rogue?”
“Rather, he would have presented it as a possible source of magic energy in lieu of the Sunwell,” Theluin replied. “You have to keep in mind that Illidan is himself part demon at this point. But, yes … once infused with demonic power, there is every opportunity for any Elf, man or beast to take a turn for the worst.”
A heavy, foreboding silence fell … duly shattered by Tuan glibly bounding up from her seat.
“Welp, looks like I should get going on my latest errands. This mushroom collector dude wanted me to poke around a bit to the northeast, something about water levels and bog lords, yada yada.” She skipped off without a second glance back, throwing a wave in the air. “Smell ya later!”
Eli stared dumbfounded after her for several seconds, until Theluin finally startled him out of his stupor by standing smoothly, seemingly oblivious to the she-rogue’s coarse manners (let alone the fact that the Night Elf had effectively never moved from his seat for the past several hours). Calmly adjusting his robes, the elderly Moon Priest turned and inclined his head to Anchorite Ahuurn who was approaching from the other direction.
Ahuurn returned the gesture with a kind smile. “I trust that I did not scare your companion off too harshly,” he remarked with a gently humorous glint in his eyes. “I plan to host a more thorough sermon later this evening; I would very much like for everyone to be present if willing. Wordbearer Sandrokal has informed me that he and his kinsmen intend to continue their pilgrimage in three days, and I hope that I may send them off with suitably fortified spirits.”
Eli quickly caught back on to his diplomatic training. “O’ course, sir Ahuurn. We’d be happy to attend.”
Ahuurn bowed in thanks, the gestured mirrored by Paladin and Priest, and the Anchorite strode off through the temple grounds again.
Eli took a moment to put two and two together. “… she spotted ‘im comin’, didn’ she,” he mumbled to Theluin.
Theluin’s faint smile was distinctly defeated this time.
Eli sighed quietly to himself. “Well, at least she’s being straightforward about it. Though ‘blunt’ is prol’ly a better way ta put it.”
Theluin began wandering towards the temple’s lodgings, and Eli matched his pace accordingly. “She has never put much stock into falsified politeness. In that sense, she is exceedingly reliable to be mercilessly honest – however uncomfortable she ends up making her surroundings in the process.”
“Doesn’t seem like a very compatible trait, given her … well, her vocation,” Eli remarked with his eyebrows raised.
Theluin smiled absent-mindedly. “She knows when to be discreet … and when not to be.”
“Somehow I get th’ impression she enjoys that latter bit way too much,” the Paladin muttered.
The Moon Priest glanced at his much younger friend and smiled that faint, defeated smile again. “Possibly.”
---
Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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