Illidan Read Free

The surge of evil energy from that artifact had transformed him, changing both his physical form and the depth of his power, but it had put him off balance for months. He flexed his newly gained demonic wings, earning a concerned glance from Prince Kael’thas. Illidan took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm.
    It was a long, strange road that had brought him to this pass. Since Tyrande had freed him, he had seen the overthrow of the Burning Legion on his homeworld of Azeroth, made a pact with a demon lord, and fled to Outland to evade his enemies, both night elven and demonic. He had been recaptured by his old nemesis, Maiev, and then freed by his allies, the young prince Kael’thas—whose allegiance Illidan had earned by pledging to help the blood elves sate their addiction to magic—and Lady Vashj, a leader of the naga. Now he found himself scheming to overthrow the pit lord who ruled this shattered world in the name of the Burning Legion.
    Kael’thas stared at him, expecting an answer to his promise of loyalty. Illidan said, “I am pleased by your people’s zeal, young Kael. Their spirits and powers have been honed in this harsh wilderness. Their courage alone may be enough to—”
    “Lord Illidan, new arrivals come to greet you.” The voice of Lady Vashj cut him off as she slithered into view. Great bands of muscle pulsed and bulged as she moved, twisting the coils of her lower body. Her oddly beautiful face, reminiscent of a night elf’s, contrasted with the horror of her serpentine form.
    Illidan turned to look in the direction she indicated. A pack of monstrous figures lumbered into view. Illidan recognized them at once. They were Broken, corrupted and devolved former members of the draenei race who had inhabited Draenor before it was shattered into Outland. They, too, were part of Illidan’s coalition, bound to him by promises of aid against their common enemy, Magtheridon.
    The Broken were hulking, ungraceful monsters, bearing primitive weapons in their huge hands. Illidan’s mystical senses detected that more of them were nearby, potent magic concealing them from those who lacked his spectral sight.
    One of the Broken, even more massive and twisted of form than the rest, limped forward on hoofed feet. “We have fought the orcs and their demon masters for generations,” the figure said. His voice rasped from within his chest. It seemed to pain him to speak. “Now, at last, we will end their curse forever. We are yours to command, Lord Illidan.”
    It was Akama, leader of the Broken. He was not a reassuring figure. Fangs jutted up from his lower jaw. Tentacles writhed out from the bottom half of his face.
    “You have arrived just in time,” said Illidan. “Those machines on the walls must be silenced, and the gate must be opened.”
    Akama nodded and gestured. The near-invisible Broken swarmed forward across the open ground and clambered up the walls of the Black Temple. A small force of blood elves and naga took shelter against the monstrous fortifications, beneath the firing arcs of the demonic engines. Illidan, Kael’thas, and Lady Vashj moved to join them, along with Akama and his bodyguards.
    Once again, the so-called lord of Outland’s overconfidence was revealed. A properly prepared fortress would have vats of boiling oil or alchemical fire ready to pour down on attackers. The defenders did nothing. Long minutes ticked by. This close to the walls, Illidan could hear the hum of the magical generators that powered the demonic war machines.
    Suddenly the sounds of combat came from within the walls, and the great gates of the Black Temple swung open. Akama and his bodyguards raced forward to join the fray. Explosions sounded as the Broken destroyed the generators, and the war machines on the walls fell silent. The main bulk of the naga and blood elf force advanced toward the gate once more.
    Akama returned, hideous face jubilant. He had waited a long time for this day. Illidan smiled and