Above the Stars and under the Flames

14. Rising Temperatures

"I don't understand why we had to go through all of this trouble."

"Be quiet, Lirandil! If we are going to retake Hyjal, we need her!"

"Surely we could have gotten what we needed without having to risk so much, Rishe."

Inside a cave hidden away deep within Mount Hyjal, Rishe paced back and forth while Lirandil leaned against a wall, folding his arms across his chest. They both seemed irritated; neither seemed to agree with what the other was saying. Rishe turned an exasperated expression to Lirandil.

"Don't you see? She was Fleetsong's mate and thero'shan! He must've told her everything! He must've taught her everything!" she exclaimed, running her fingers through her scarlet tresses. "If anyone was to have the information we need to infiltrate Hyjal, it was Fleetsong. But who botched that mission?"

Lirandil blushed slightly and grumbled to himself. "Look, it wasn't my fault that the idiot Paladin got to him first," he protested.

"Yes, it was!" argued Rishe, frowning deeply. "You had plenty of opportunities, but instead, you squandered them because you wanted to 'celebrate Midsummer' at the local festivities last year. 'I'll get to Fleetsong right after,' you said. 'The weather is so nice and hot! I'll track him down on a rainy day because I'm a lazy moron with a big fat arse,' you said." She stalked over to her brother and slammed a fist onto the wall near his head. "And then what happened? Ah, yes! I remember! HE DIED."

Lirandil winced slightly. He lifted his hand and brought his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart from each other, indicating a small amount. "Now, sis, I think you might be exaggerating a little on the arse part. I actually rather pride myself on the state of my buttocks-"

"LIRANDIL, WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP?"

"Fine, fine."

"Brother and sister Clawflame?"

Both siblings whirled around to face the cave entrance. Before them stood a band of flame druids much like Rishe and Lirandil; there was a sizable handful-two dozen, perhaps a bit less. Rishe recognized them immediately, but Lirandil remained in the dark. Evidently, whatever Rishe had arranged, she had not bothered to tell Lirandil anything about it.

"Sister and brother Clawflame," Rishe corrected, sending an imperious glare in Lirandil's direction before offering the newcomers a polite salute. "Thank you all for coming here, brothers and sisters. As you know, we have taken the Elder Talon's mate. Fortunately, this brings us closer to our goal. Unfortunately, she was, generally speaking, well-liked." She heaved a sigh. "This means that if we aren't careful, people could begin to notice her absence. We can't allow this." Her gaze traveled out over the gathering.

"I suppose you're all wondering why I've summoned you here this eve," she said eventually. "It is to deal with the aforementioned dilemma." She stepped forward, giving her allies a once-over with her piercing stare. "You are all respected trackers of Ragnaros. You have served our Fire Lord faithfully in the past, and you will continue to serve him now." She paused to let her words sink in.

"I need each of you to go to a different settlement on this continent-either night elven or Cenarion. If Fleetsong's mate has a connection with a place, it must be watched by one of you. You will spread out across Kalimdor, making sure that Thellandria Cinderpelt's disappearance is not observed. If it is," she instructed, her eyes darkening, "find the person who has become alerted to it."

A voice spoke up from the back of the group. "And then what do we do?" it asked.

Rishe raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious?" she inquired, then shrugged and turned around, dismissing the trackers. She began to walk deeper into the cave, letting darkness devour her; Lirandil scrambled after her. A few moments later, her voice rang out once more:

"Kill them."

The trackers glanced at each other, then dipped their heads and lifted their hands up to the air. Fire began to weave its way in and out of their fingers; after a few moments, the flames swallowed them in orange. When the fire faded, none of the trackers remained.

That night, across Kalimdor, various night elven and Cenarion settlements felt the air grow humid and uncomfortable. Temperatures rose, and with them, so did restlessness. Few people were able to get a good night's sleep. Their skin was sticky with sweat, and their dreams were filled with fire.