“Give him his sight back? Why should I?”

“The beast has a point,” Captain Varo’then abruptly interrupted. “Your brother slows us down too much! Either let me slit his throat here and now or give him eyes so that he can see the trail!”

Illidan gave him a sardonic smile. “Such tempting choices! Oh, very well! Bring him forth!”

Two of the demons pushed Malfurion forward at the points of their weapons. To his credit, the druid straightened as best he could and marched defiantly toward his twin.

“From my eyes to yours,” Illidan murmured. “I grant you what I no longer need.”

He pulled up the scarf.

The hair on the back of the orc’s neck stiffened as he saw for the first time what lay underneath. Brox uttered an oath to the spirits. Even the monstrous guards next to him shifted uneasily.

The shadows faded from Malfurion’s own orbs. He blinked, then saw Illidan. The druid, too, gaped in horror at what had befallen his brother’s eyes.

“Oh, Illidan…” Malfurion managed. “I’m so very sorry…”

“About what?” The sorcerer contemptuously replaced the scarf over the ungodly sockets. “I’ve something much better now! A sense of sight you could only dream of attaining! I’ve lost nothing, do you understand me? Nothing!” To the officer, Illidan disdainfully commented, “He should be good to travel now. We can even pick up the pace, I think.”

Varo’then smiled, then gave the command to continue on.

Malfurion stumbled toward the orc. Brox guided the night elf to a more staid pacing, then muttered, “Sorry I am about your brother…”

“Illidan’s chosen his path,” the druid said in a much more gentle tone than the orc would have used.

“He betrays us!”

“Does he?” Malfurion stared hard at his twin’s back. “Does he?”

Shaking his head at his companion’s wishful thinking, the orc gave up.

They moved on, the shrouded day aging. Their captors rode with little concern, but Brox kept glancing back at the mountain chain, certain that Deathwing would make his appearance at any moment.

“Tell me, sorcerer,” the scarred officer suddenly said after more than an hour of silence. “This disk. It does everything you’ve told us?”

“Everything and more. You know what it did to the Legion and the night elves… and even against the dragons.”

“Yes…” The orc could hear the avarice in Varo’then’s voice. Only now did he notice the way the captain’s hand kept caressing the pouch containing the Demon Soul. “All true, eh?”

“Just ask Archimonde, if you like.”

Varo’then’s hand pulled from the pouch. The soldier had enough sense to respect the power of the great demon.

“It should be powerful enough to transform the portal to Sargeras’s desire,” Illidan continued. “The rest of the Legion will then be able to enter Kalimdor… with Sargeras himself at their head.”

Malfurion gasped and even Brox grunted in revulsion. They looked aghast at one another, well aware that no force would be able to withstand both the demon lord and his full host.

“Must do something…” Brox quietly urged, testing his muscles against the ropes and, regrettably, finding the ropes still the stronger.

“I have been,” the druid whispered back. “Since Illidan gave me my eyes back. I couldn’t concentrate before that because I kept falling… but now that’s no problem.”

Making certain that the demons still paid them no mind, Brox growled, “How?”

“The cats. I’ve been talking with them. Convincing them…”

The orc’s brow furrowed and he recalled how Malfurion had mentally spoken with animals in the past. “I’ll be ready, druid. Is it soon, you think?”

“It’s been harder than I thought. They — they’ve been tainted by the Legion’s presence, but… I think… yes… be ready. They should act any moment now.”

At first, there was no obvious sign of success… but then Captain Varo’then’s mount balked. The captain kicked at the animal, but the night saber would not move.

“What’s the matter with this damned — ”

Varo’then got no farther, for the panther abruptly reared. Caught by surprise, the officer rolled off the creature’s back.

Illidan started to look over his shoulder, but then his own mount did as the first. However, the sorcerer was better prepared and although he slid from his seat, he was not toppled.

“You fool!” Illidan blurted, although to who, it was impossible to say. “You stupid — ”

Brox acted the moment the cats turned on their riders. He ran toward Captain Varo’then’s mount, seeking his ax. The night saber obliged him by turning its flank toward the orc… surely a command given by Malfurion.

Spinning around, Brox presented his bound limbs to the ax head. The ever-sharp edge severed the ropes easily and only nicked the warrior’s right arm.

Brox seized his weapon. “Druid! To me! We can ride this beast out — ”

But the night saber bounded past him. With its head, it rammed a Fel Guard seeking to run Malfurion through. The other demons back away, momentarily uncertain what to make of the mad situation.

The cat, meanwhile, began gnawing on Malfurion’s ropes. Gazing at Brox, the night elf shouted, “Never mind me! The pouch, Brox! The pouch!”

The orc looked to where Varo’then had landed. The palace officer sat rubbing his head, the pouch holding the Demon Soul still dangling from his belt. He did not seem aware of the nearby presence of Brox.

Raising his ax high, the orc charged the captain. However, the scarred night elf recovered quicker than Brox hoped. Seeing the huge green form barreling at him, the slim fighter immediately rolled away. As he came to his feet, Varo’then drew his sword.

“Come, you lumbering brute,” he taunted. “I’ll carve you up and feed you to the cats… if they can stomach you!”

Brox brought down the ax… and had he struck the elf, Varo’then would have been cut in twain. The captain, however, moved like lightning. The orc’s weapon cleaved the hard earth, leaving a trench more than a yard long.

Varo’then leaped forward, jabbing at his foe. The sword cut a crimson line across Brox’s left shoulder. Brox ignored the stinging as he hefted the ax for another attempt.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfurion direct the riderless night saber at the Fel Guard. The first demon retreated, uncertain as to whether to attack Varo’then’s mount. That hesitation cost him, the huge panther bringing down the armored figure a moment later and tearing into his throat.

Brox tried to spot Illidan, but the need to keep track of his own adversary made that impossible. He hoped Malfurion was watching his brother. One spell by the sorcerer and they were doomed.

He roared as Captain Varo’then managed a nastier cut on the same shoulder.

The night elf grinned. “The first rule of war is to never be distracted…”

In response, the orc swung his ax in a fearsome arc which narrowly missed decapitating the soldier. Varo’then, his demeanor now more serious, backed away.

“Second rule,” growled Brox. “Only fools talk so much on the battlefield.”

His body suddenly tingled. Brox’s movements slowed down, each action growing more and more ponderous. It felt as if the very air around him solidified.

Sorcery…

Malfurion had not dealt with Illidan, just as the veteran warrior had feared. The familial bond had made the druid hesitant and now that hesitation would cost them.

Captain Varo’then’s grin returned. He moved with more confidence toward his slowing foe. “Well! I usually don’t like things so easy, but, in this case, I’ll make an exception.” He pointed his sword at Brox’s chest. “I wonder if your heart’s in the same place as mine…”

But as he approached, a dark shadow enveloped both of them. Brox wanted to look up, but his movements had slowed so much now that he knew that the night elf would gut him before he could lower his head again. If this was to be his death, the orc wanted to stare his slayer in the eyes as a warrior should.