Shattrath City expanded in a wide field of destruction beneath Pinter and Mandala. Once the bastion of Draenei civilization, the hub of all enterprise, philosophy, and religion of Draenor culture, the city was a smoldering heap. Pinter had been here before. She was sure Mandala had been here, too. Alliance and Horde forces had joined Khadgar, Thrall, and other allies in an assault to drive away the Iron Horde and liberate Shattrath Harbor. The Draenei heroine Yrel had led the charge, and Pinter had been in her frontline. She had celebrated their victory when they defeated the Orc warlord Blackhand. That was months ago, and in that time the Sargeri and their Burning Legion masters had moved into Shattrath before the city could repopulate and rebuild. It happened so easily that nobody noticed. Now Shattrath burned once again. Khadgar had called upon Pinter once more, this time to infiltrate Sargeri territory and recover something precious, something that could aid them in their efforts to restore Draenor. Pinter heeded the call, and Mandala followed her into the depths of darkness.
Their gryphons circled deftly away from a line of floating crystals that suddenly flashed and sparked in every direction. There was a crack like thunder, and the sky erupted in little explosions as incoming canon fire burst harmlessly on the outskirts of the city. The gryphons banked and dove to a platform, and they landed easily as a Draenei mount master rushed up with leashes.
"We move fast," Pinter said as she removed her excess gear. "We have a mission and there's no time for distractions."
Mandala stood at the edge of the platform. She gripped the guard rail in her red plate gloves. She stared over the ruins of the once proud Draenei capital. Mandala turned her head away from the devastated sight, and Pinter saw them welling with tears.
Mandala was a Draenei of Azeroth. She had grown up on Azuremyst Isle, and she had never seen the beauty of her race's home world. Pinter couldn't imagine the heartbreak rushing through the paladin's soul now that she had returned to her point of origin only to find it burning and stolen. She put her hand on Mandala's heavy, purple spaulder. "I have to know you're with me," Pinter said.
"I am with you," Mandala said in her rich accent. "The Sargeri will pay."
"There's no time for distractions," Pinter said.
"Then they will have to get out of my way," Mandala said, drawing her huge sword, pulling her axe-blade shield from her back. "They are no longer Draenei."
Pinter wouldn't press it any further. She trusted Mandala, and the paladin was fierce enough to make it through this. Pinter just wanted to spend as little time as possible completing Khadgar's quest. There were dangerous things in Shattrath now, and she wanted nothing to do with them.
They charged past Draenei captains who rallied their troops for another assault. They ran like the wind to the elevator that carried wave after wave of soldiers who charged to meet the dark enemy that pushed their endless attack against the weary defenders. As Pinter ran she noticed a man in red armor at her side, and she saw it was a Blood Elf. He bore no insignia of allegiance to the Azeroth Horde, indicating that he was native to Draenor, but Pinter still felt her blood rise. The invasion of her garrison still plagued her mind, her encounter with the Blood Elf who had nearly slit her throat. Pinter looked away from the young soldier at her side, reminding herself that they fought a common foe for the sake of Draenor and Azeroth. She focused on the elevator straight ahead.
They moved fast and uncontested. They ran deep into Sargeri territory. They cut down Orc mages and Ogre warlocks, and Pinter wondered how deep this infestation of evil went into the peoples of Draenor. Where did this endless scourge come from? She pulled an arrow from the chest of a dying Ogre and kicked his head roughly, breaking his neck. If Ogres had fallen prey to this diseased practice, everything was at risk. The evil in this world had to be stopped, and they had to do it now.
Pinter looked around. Mandala was gone. "Mandala?"
In answer, Mandala screamed a war cry like nothing Pinter had heard before. She turned, and there was the paladin facing down four Draenei Sargeri, two priests by Pinter's eyes and two warlocks. Pinter loaded the gathered arrow in her bow and ran to join Mandala, but as she ran she watched her friend cut one of the priests in half at the waist and slam her shield onto the legs of a warlock. Mandala cut off the second priest's hand that glowed darkly with a half-conjured spell. She swung her sword in a killing strike on the two severely wounded assailants, and finally Mandala threw her shield into the back of the last fleeing warlock. The shield stuck, severing the Draenei's spine, and she fell with a mournful wail that turned Pinter's stomach. The young hunter finally caught up as Mandala raised her sword over the stricken warlock who could only watch as death raced into her with cold steel, crushing her rib cage, crushing her life into the dust. "Mandala!"
Mandala stood cool and calm. She lifted her bloody sword, and she looked at Pinter with her bright blue glowing eyes. Mandala wiped her nose on the bicep of her exposed upper arm. "We're done here," she said. "Where is this sanctum?"
"At the harbor's edge," Pinter said with an inquisitive slant to her eye. "The tallest spire, Khadgar said."
"Then let's go," Mandala said, and they continued.
Their destination appeared as they moved, a round pillar that rose high above the burning city. Pinter and Mandala ran through an open market area, and the loud commotion of battle drew their gaze. Twenty Draenei soldiers surrounded a lumbering demon giant, one of the Fel Legionnaires that Pinter had heard rumors about. The Legionnaire wielded a sword that dwarfed the barrel of the mightiest Azeroth siege engine and raised his hands high in the air, summoning an earthquake of rocky spikes that scattered the Draenei. But they were unperturbed. They fought bravely, and they regrouped every time it looked like the Legionnaire would gain the advantage. "Keep moving," Pinter said. "They can handle it."
"Not our mission," Mandala said, and they ran on to the spire.
The building rose over them ancient and powerful. This was a holy place, something sacred to Draenei and Blood Elf society, now corrupted by darkness. Pinter and Mandala went inside, and they were greeted with deafening silence. Pinter checked the exits of the main hall, two doorways on opposite sides of the room. "Let's split up," Pinter said. "Meet back here in thirty minutes, with or without the stone."
"I'll go left," Mandala said.
And she was off. Pinter watched her friend head for the doorway, her tail sprouting from her plate leggings and bouncing as she walked, her hooves clacking on the sheer marble floor. There was no time to worry about her. They had their mission. Pinter went right.
She poked through three rooms, emptying shelves, scattering books on the floor. She overturned desks and felt along the walls for hidden compartments. But there was nothing. Pinter continued up the hall, and she found herself in what looked like a lounge. Soft velvet chairs sat along the wall, around some sort of fountain that flowed from an underground well. More bookshelves surrounded her, reaching to the ceiling and occupying half of the room.
Pinter's heart beat in her ears. The overwhelming silence hanged thick in the air like cobwebs. She slid a few books from the shelves, and something told her the stone wasn't here. It was almost time to return to the hall. She and Mandala would search the upper parts of the sanctum together. Pinter slid a few cushions from the chairs, finding a hidden sack of gold that she would split with Mandala. She stood, and then the air went frozen all around her.
"Deary, oh, dear," a smooth female voice said behind her.
Pinter whirled around to see a woman with wide bat wings facing her. She wore a slick loincloth around her waist and an even thinner one over her breasts. Her legs ended in hooves much like a Draenei's, but this was not an ally of the Alliance. Pinter didn't know what this was, and she drew her bow quickly. "Stand down, wench," Pinter said. "Or I will put you down."
The woman laughed. "You wouldn't do that," she said. "Not to the one you love."
"What do you mean?" Pinter asked, but her voice trailed off.
The woman transformed before Pinter's eyes. The wings dissolved. The hooves turned into humanoid feet. Her skin went olive green, her head bald with a white Mohawk. Pinter recognized the lines of age on the face even before the features were fully finished. "Kerrak?"
The Orc shaman stood there in the Shattrath sanctum. Kerrak held out her hands to Pinter, and she smiled like a long-lost friend. "It's good to see you, Pinter," Kerrak said.
