Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War (42 page)

T
he remains of the Alliance fleet sailed into the waters of the Merchant Coast unhindered. It seemed that Garrosh had indeed been taken completely unawares by the attack on Bladefist Bay, and the four ships that had attacked the fleet had been summoned from their no doubt relaxed postings at Northwatch. Without the kraken at its command, the Horde was no match for the Alliance fleet, damaged as it had been.

Still, that did not mean that the Horde would give up without a fight. There had been time to get word to those who manned Northwatch, and Varian’s ships were greeted by the thundering of cannons and catapulted boulders.

“Return fire!” ordered Varian. Obediently the volley of cannonballs from the shore was met by those from the Alliance ships.

Overhead, Varian could see Kalecgos approaching. The dragon dove, and Varian saw Jaina perched atop the broad blue back. Kalecgos opened his massive jaws and breathed blue mist, and suddenly the volley of cannon fire ceased.

The catapults and ballistae continued to press their attack. Varian rushed to the side of the ship, peering through his spyglass. He smiled. Garrosh had been arrogant. He had left only a very few to guard this key site, so confident had he been that his blockade of port cities in Kalimdor would break the Alliance.

He blinked as he saw several Horde soldiers clamber into small
boats and push out to sea. For a moment, Varian thought they were trying to flee—then he realized they were heading straight for the nearest ship.

“By the Light,” he muttered, “they mean to come aboard!”

It was suicide. He could not help but admire their courage, as troll and orc and tauren waved their weapons and shouted their defiance in the guttural Orcish tongue. Their bows and spells were not entirely ineffective, either—Varian saw several Alliance sailors topple to the deck with arrows in their throats, and others who were incinerated on the spot. The sails of the ship caught fire from a bolt that had killed one of the night elf sailors. Again the great shadow of the dragon fell as cold breath put out the flames.

And then, with no warning, dozens of water elementals formed at once. They rushed the small boats, easily overturning them, their manacled arms seizing the enemy and gleefully hauling the struggling Horde members down to a watery death. Other elementals swarmed ashore, targeting the attackers. There were cries of alarm and Varian saw a few orcs and trolls flee. But most of them stood their ground, snarling defiance and fighting to the last as arrows, cannon fire, and spells did their work.

There was silence for a long moment; then cheers went up from the Alliance vessels. Varian grinned, letting them enjoy this second victory, then shouted, “Ashore! The standard of the Alliance will fly once more over Northwatch Hold!”

Boats were lowered, filled with happy crewmen and -women. Varian frowned to himself, then looked up. Kalec was hovering overhead. Varian waved his arms broadly, then pointed to the shore. The dragon’s head dipped in acknowledgment. Varian hastened to one of the boats, to the honor and surprise of the crew.

By the time Varian reached the shore, lithely leaping out of the boat, Kalecgos had landed and transformed into his bipedal form. Jaina stood beside him. Varian strode up to both of them and offered his hand to each in turn.

“Twice today, the two of you have helped save the Alliance,” he said. “We have regained a lost foothold in Kalimdor.”

“I am glad to have been of help,” Jaina said simply. “What now?”

“Something Garrosh will know to expect,” Varian said, giving her a wicked grin. Jaina looked confused. “I’ve made no secret that I intend to bring the fleet to the various blockades. After the trouncing they’ve just received, and the loss of Northwatch, Garrosh is going to pull in tight. Which means we’ll get our ports back without further loss of Alliance life.” He sobered. “We took a beating ourselves,” he said. “Those kraken would have wiped out the fleet if you hadn’t arrived in time. And with Theramore, Northwatch, and the fleet destroyed…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think what would have happened to the Alliance.”

Now Jaina looked uncomfortable. “About some of the things I said to you and Anduin…,” she said, but Varian held up a hand.

“I am,” he said wryly, “perhaps the absolute last person to stand in judgment of behavior stemming from anger or a desire for revenge. And Anduin has been praying for you. I will be glad to tell him his prayers have been answered.”

“Thank you,” Jaina said sincerely.

“And you? What is next for you?” Varian inquired. He looked at both of them, and Kalec turned to Jaina.

“Theramore,” she said quietly.

Varian nodded. “When we’re done cleaning up here, I’ll send a ship to Theramore. To… take care of things.”

Jaina simply nodded. “I would be grateful. They deserve no less.” She looked up at Kalecgos. “Let’s go.”

•   •   •

Garrosh saw the Alliance standard snapping in the breeze over Northwatch even as he pushed his laboring wolf to get there in time. Furious, he yanked his wolf to a halt, threw back his head, and screamed his fury. Wisely, Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin did not attempt to calm him down.

“How could this
happen
?” demanded Garrosh, his small golden-brown eyes staring at each of them. “We had every advantage! I destroyed Theramore to break their spirits. I trapped their people in
blockades. I sent molten giants and even monsters of the deep after them, and still this happens!”

One of Baine’s Longwalkers approached at a swift lope, then slowed, clearly loath to be the proverbial bearer of bad tidings. Baine nodded that he should proceed. The wary tauren knelt in front of—but not too close to—Garrosh.

“Warchief, I bring news from Northwatch,” the Longwalker said.

“I can see the news from Northwatch,” Garrosh snapped, pointing at the blue-and-white standard in the distance.

The tauren continued. “There is further news, overheard by sharp ears.” Garrosh made a visible effort to calm himself and waved for the messenger to proceed. “Varian intends for the fleet to sail to break the blockade. There are still ample ships remaining for the Alliance to be a threat to our captured ports. Sources reporting in seem to confirm this intention.”

Garrosh leaped from his dire wolf, which actually darted back a step, ears flat. He reached for the Longwalker, grabbing him by the arm. “What sources?” he demanded.

“Garrosh,” said Baine, his voice heavy with warning, “release my Longwalker. He will better be able to speak if he does not fear being attacked for bringing the truth.”

The look that Garrosh shot Baine could have pierced armor, but the warchief saw the sense in this. He let go of the Longwalker’s arm. “What sources?” he repeated.

“Druids have flown from Bladefist Bay, reporting that the Alliance fleet is heading out to break the blockade.”

For a moment, Baine almost felt sorry for Garrosh. The orc’s fury turned to visible pain and he sagged, as if all the life and passion had suddenly been bled out of him. At last, he said to Malkorok, “Order a full retreat. In our state, we cannot risk a battle on multiple fronts.”

Malkorok’s face was carefully blank as he replied, “As my warchief commands.” He kicked his dire wolf and hurried off to speak with several other Kor’kron, who glanced back over their shoulders as Malkorok delivered the news.

“My thanks for your message,” Baine told the Longwalker. “Go
and eat, and have your wounds tended to.” The other tauren bowed and gratefully left to obey. Baine turned to Garrosh. “I commend you, Warchief.”

Garrosh looked at him askance. “Why?”

“For recognizing the folly of this path. This war was ill advised, and I am pleased that you have turned from—”

“I have not ‘turned from’ anything, tauren, and you tread on dangerous ground,” Garrosh said warningly. “For someone with such large ears, you still manage to misunderstand what you hear. I do not intend to
end
this war. I intend to
escalate
it. This retreat is a regrouping, a reassessment of strategy—not a surrender to the ‘power’ of the Alliance!”

Baine attempted to hide his dismay. Beside him, Vol’jin did the same.

“We need to do more,” Garrosh said, turning away from Baine and pacing as he spoke, clenching and unclenching his hands. Malkorok finished his conversation and returned to stand at attention while Garrosh continued. “
More
ships.
More
weapons.
More
elementals and beasts and demons obeying our commands. More soldiers need to be conscripted. Male, female, child—they can all contribute to the glory of the Horde.”

His spirits were obviously lifting now, and his eyes were distant, focusing on the future and not the present with its stark message of ruination and disaster. “I thought too small—that was the problem. This is no longer about taking over Kalimdor. It is about crushing the Alliance utterly! Wiping their filth off the face of Azeroth! Burning Stormwind to the ground, and Wrynn with it! A war not for control of a single continent, but for conquest of this very world. We can do this; we are the Horde! But victory will be ours only if our plans are sound, our wills focused, our hearts strong and true!”

“Garrosh Hellscream,” said Baine calmly, “I ride now for Mulgore with my braves. There are far fewer of them than when I rode out to answer the call of the warchief of the Horde. My loyalty to the Horde is deep, and you cannot gainsay me on that. But know this: I fight for the true Horde, not one that utilizes methods both unnecessary and
shameful. There must
never
be another Theramore—not if you wish the aid of Baine Bloodhoof!”

Garrosh stared at Baine with narrowed eyes and a slight smirk that Baine could not interpret. “Duly noted,” he said.

As he gathered up the reins of his kodo, Baine glanced at Vol’jin. The troll looked at him sadly and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Baine nodded slightly. He understood Vol’jin’s reasoning. It was the same as Baine’s own—Vol’jin needed to protect his people from the wrath of an offended Garrosh.

A world war.

As Baine headed west, toward home and the serenity of the rolling plains of his beloved Mulgore, he could not decide if Garrosh was mad with power… or simply mad.

•   •   •

How long had it been, Jaina wondered, since her own personal cataclysm? She had lost count of the days, but surely they had not been many; a fortnight would be too long. Only a fortnight, less, since she had been fretting about Thrall’s disinterest in deposing Garrosh, the restlessness in her spirit. Since she had eaten delicious pastries with Kinndy, and her biggest worry had been the thought of her apprentice smudging books with frosting.

Like a sword, she had been tempered, ruthlessly and efficiently—plunged into the coldness of hatred and revenge from the fire of anguish and back again, reshaped, remade, reforged. But now, like steel, she would withstand much. She would not break or shatter, not from grief or pain or rage. Not anymore.

She arrived in Theramore not by teleporting, and not alone, but on the broad back of a great blue dragon. Kalec landed outside the city limits, on the beach where once they had walked and talked, hand in hand. He crouched low to enable her to slip more easily to the earth.

Shifting into his half-elven shape, he stepped beside her. “Jaina,” he said, “it’s not too late to change your mind.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m all right, Kalec. I just… need to see. With my own eyes—clearer now.”

They were indeed clearer, both literally and figuratively. The arcane energy that had so poisoned her had faded. Her hair was still white with a single gold streak; that damage would not ever be undone. But the strange white glow was gone from her eyes. The arcane residue, too, had dissipated from Theramore. It was safe—physically, at least—for Jaina to return to the blasted city.

They walked up the slight hill to the path. There were no bodies here; there had been time before the bomb had fallen to gather Wymor and the others who had so gallantly defended the city by the sea, if not yet to bury them. The Horde, too, it seemed, had come for its dead. Though the glowing arcane energy had faded, the skies were still rent. Here and there, twisting ribbons of magic, glimpses into other worlds, could be seen, even in daylight. Jaina stared first at the wounded sky, then at the open gate, swallowing hard.

A warm hand slipped into hers. Kalec’s grasp was tentative; he would pull back if she wished him to. But she didn’t. They walked, slowly, into the city of the dead.

Having seen the destruction once before, Jaina was at least somewhat prepared for the sight. Though familiar, it remained horrifically tragic, and her heart was ripped in twain again and again as she beheld the fallen. The buildings still listed, deformed or broken by the arcane. But at least the earth was starting to heal; she no longer felt the wrongness pressing up against the soles of her feet.

She shivered as a cold wind brushed past her. Curiously, she turned to Kalec, who had created it; then she understood and felt a rush of sorrowful gratitude. Both the coldness and the vigor of the wind kept the stench of so many corpses from becoming overwhelming.

“They c-can’t just lie here,” Jaina said, aware that her voice shook.

“They won’t,” Kalec said, reassuring her swiftly. “Now that it is safe, we can give them a proper farewell.” He didn’t say “burial.” Not all the fallen had bodies left to bury. Those who had been peculiarly levitated had succumbed to gravity and now lay, more naturally, on the earth.

The items she had noticed on her first visit, which had been scattered with strange abandon, had mostly been scavenged. She felt a
rush of anger but quickly damped it. The Horde had been defeated for now. Garrosh had been dealt a devastating and shameful blow. She wasn’t here to rage and hate. She was here to observe and mourn.

Her foot slipped, twisting slightly as she stepped on something partially buried. The sunlight glinted on a silver, metallic shape. Jaina bent to work the weapon free from the earth, and as she did so, astonishment and something akin to awe filled her. She lifted it up, and the dirt simply fell away from the beautiful, ancient weapon, as if nothing so base could sully it. It looked as new as the day it had been forged. She held it reverently, but it did not glow at her touch, as it had done for first a human prince and then a tauren chieftain.