They didn’t stop running until they were back at the entrance to Razorfen. The two sentries, Whistler and Bristlemaw, were still snoring contentedly right where they’d been left. Makasa whistled for Amberhide and Elmarine. Shagtusk put Drella down.

“Thank you, Shagtusk,” the dryad said. “That was a new and interesting experience. For the most part.”

Shagtusk stared at her. The others stared at her as well.

Drella started to look uncomfortable. She said, “I am sorry. Is it possible I have disappointed you? I could not bring all the unnatural magicks to an end.”

Shagtusk grunted and said, “If you taught Chugara something, you’ve done more than anyone else has managed.”

Makasa cleared her throat.

Shagtusk added, “And I’m sorry I got all of you into this mess.”

Aram said, “You made up for it. Or did your best to, anyway.”

The tauren and the high elf rowed up, towing Rendow’s boat. Both stared up at Shagtusk angrily, causing Aram to repeat, “She made up for it.”

Thalia Amberhide nodded but seemed less than convinced. Elmarine kept her own counsel.

Makasa growled, “Let’s get out of here. Now.” She climbed down into Rendow’s boat.

Shagtusk picked Drella up again and lowered her into Makasa’s arms. Aram, Hackle, and Murky followed.

Drella stretched and yawned demurely. “Excuse me,” she said. “I am a little tired.” She curled up in the center of the boat and was asleep before they’d said their good-byes and pushed away from shore to continue their journey toward the Speedbarge and, ultimately, toward Gadgetzan.

Maluss and Ssarbik, meanwhile, were taking their own route to Gadgetzzan.

Ssside by ssside, they walked down the ssstepss leading away from the war room of the Masster of the Hidden, after ssspending nearly a week in the highlord’zz gloriouss pressencce.

Maluss pauzzed at the bottom, painfully pulling an iron gauntlet over hizz left hand, while ssstaring acrosss the dessolation of rock, debris, and flame that encompasssed Outland. In the disstancce, the campss and campfirezz—or more accurately, bonfirezz—of the Burning Legion were jusst barely vizzible through the sssmoke and hazze.

Ssarbik was almosst giddy with pleassure over the reprimand Captain Maluss had recceived from the dreadlord of the Legion for not having already achieved the compasss. The arakkoa gleefully exxpresssed hizz hope that Maluss had learned the error of hizz wayzz—and wazz, at lasst, properly motivated to complete the tassk at hand.

But truthfully, Malus required no reprimand or punishment to achieve the compass. He felt no need to justify his actions. Not to himself. Not to the Hidden’s Master. And certainly not to Ssarbik. This is about completing what I started, he repeated to himself over and over. Else, why did I do what I did at all? He glared down at the giggling bird-man and shut him up with a slap from his new gauntlet. The arakkoa squealed out in pain, and Malus’s own hand stung from the effort—though he would not even allow himself a grimace, let alone a grunt.

The captain did take some pleasure in knowing he remained in command of the Hidden on Azeroth. Not because it would have changed anything for him. He would do what he must no matter what His Highlordship decided or declared. But Malus knew Ssarbik coveted his command, and thwarting the bird-man brought a begrudging smile to the big man’s face.

He said, “Time to get to it. Open a portal,” while he thought, After all, what’s my alternative? Admit I committed a terrible—He wouldn’t allow himself to complete the reflection.

Ssarbik, now considerably less giddy, began his chant …

The portal opened on the deck of Malus’s ship, the Inevitable—an elven destroyer, tar-black in color. Malus and Ssarbik emerged to face the latter’s sister, Ssavra.

“Greetings, Captain,” said the bird-woman, her voice crisp and precise like that of most arakkoa—nothing like the hissing speech of Ssarbik. “What says our dreadlord of the demonic Burning Legion? What says the Harbinger of the Dark Storm?”

“He says little,” answered Malus before Ssarbik could respond. “He wants the compass. Nothing else required saying.”

Ssavra nodded. But in the next instant, her imperious indigo eyes cast a questioning glance down her long curved beak at her brother. She was a few inches taller than Ssarbik but held herself straighter, so appeared taller still.

The hunched Ssarbik anxiously snuck a peek at the iron gauntlet on Malus’s left hand, then decided it was worth the risk, saying, “Our captain wazz casstigated for hizz failurezz.” He flinched involuntarily, but Malus moved not.

“For my tardiness,” Malus corrected with equanimity. He strode across the deck, leaving the two arakkoa to catch up. “So you’ll understand my sense of urgency. Heading?”

This last word was spoken to his helmsman, Sensiago Kryl, a human with ebony skin, one good eye, and a burn scar that covered the entire right side of his head. “Gadgetzan, Captain,” Kryl said. “Two days out.”

“Good. I want to beat the Greydon-spawn to the city.”

“Then why wait?” the helmsman whispered. “Have the bird-beaks portal you there. Blast, Captain! Together maybe they can open a portal big enough for the whole blasted ship to sail through.”

Malus smiled a strained smile. He said, “Doesn’t work that way. From Azeroth, they can only portal to Outland.”

“We can brave that foul place!”

“You don’t want any part of Outland, believe me, Kryl. Besides, from Outland, each arakkoa needs the other to act as an anchor here. So even ignoring the detour, they can only portal back and forth between each other.”

“That what they tell you?”

“Yes. And that’s what I believe.”

“If you say so, Captain. I just don’t trust them bird-beaks. They be lookin’ to stab you in the back, you ask me.”

“He didn’t,” interjected Ssavra, who had slid up behind them. “But I’m sure he appreciates the warning, helmsman Kryl.”

Sensiago shuddered and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Malus turned toward her. Her feathered head, black with a deep-purple sheen, tilted slightly to regard her captain with some amusement. He glanced over her shoulder. Her brother stood a safe distance away, his sneering head bobbing in expectation of a confrontation. “You had something to say?” Malus asked Ssavra casually.

“Only this,” she hissed. “I am not my brother. I will not be growled or slapped into submission. Complete your assigned task, or I will kill you and complete it for you.”

“Your Master might not approve.”

“I would risk the highlord’s wrath in order to fulfill his wishes,” she said with a surprisingly pleasant grin.

“These threats are unnecessary, Lady Ssavra. I have no intention of failing.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

“We do.”

“Oh, and one more thing …”

“Yes?”

“I am no lady.”

Malus laughed and turned back to Sensiago Kryl. “To Gadgetzan, helmsman.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!”