The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm (17 page)

“Good, good.” Magni nodded approvingly. “But not just because of the war. Follow the chain, lad.”

Anduin furrowed his brow. “Well … because Durotar is a pretty harsh land,” he said. “There were never many supplies to begin with.”

“And there are fewer now because … ?”

“Because of the war and …” Anduin’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “Because of the unusual droughts.”

“Exactly.”

“Now that we’re talking about it … Aunt Jaina said there had been a violent storm right before I visited her. Even she said it was one of the worst she’d seen. And there were reports of a strange hurricane that damaged many ships trying to come home from Northrend.”

“Yes!” Magni almost cheered in his excitement. “Ferocious storms, floods in some places, droughts in the other … Something’s wrong, lad. I’m no shaman, but th’ elements are definitely not happy these days. This tablet could possibly hold th’ key tae what’s wrong wi’ them.”

“Do—really? You really think something that old can help us today?”

“Anything’s possible, lad. And at the very least …” Magni said in an exaggeratedly conspiratorial whisper, “we’ve gotten our hands on something that’s not seen the light o’ day in a while, eh?”

He clapped Anduin on the back. Right on the sunburn.

The translation process was slow and painful, with many false starts. It didn’t help matters that the translators struck Anduin
as a touch self-important and unwilling to admit they might be wrong—and each one had a slightly different interpretation.

High Explorer Magellas kept insisting it was a metaphysical union. “‘Become one with th’ earth,’” he repeated. “Tae join wi’ it. Tae sense its pain.”

Advisor Belgrum, a wizened elder with hands that trembled but a voice that, when raised, could be heard almost throughout all of Ironforge, scoffed. “Bah,” he said. “Muninn, ye’re too taken wi’ the lasses. Ye see ‘becoming one’ in everything.”

Magellas, who had been casting sidelong glances at the comely Aerin the whole time, laughed boisterously. “Just because ye’ve nae been wi’ a lass in decades, Belgrum, doesna mean—”

“Now, now, all this salty talk’s not fit fer young royal ears!” chided Aerin, who was completely unruffled by the conversation.

Anduin, however, colored slightly. “It’s okay,” he said. “I mean … I know about these things.”

Unable to resist, Aerin winked at him. “Do ye now?”

Anduin quickly turned to Belgrum. “What do
you
think it means?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Well, I think we canna really know until we get all of it translated. Th’ interpretation of a phrase is often dependent upon what else is around it. Fer instance, take … ‘I am hungry.’ If ye put it in a paragraph like, ‘Me wife is cooking dinner in th’ other room. I can smell th’ beer-basted boar ribs. I am hungry,’ well, that’s a literal hunger, isn’t it?”

“Belgrum, ye’re toying with me. It’s past lunchtime,” Aerin said.

“But if the paragraph is more like, ‘I have been imprisoned fer four years. All I see are the gray walls. I dream o’ open spaces and sunlight. I am hungry.’ That’s quite a different thing.”

“Goodness, ye’re a poet,” said Aerin, impressed. Anduin was, too.

“I see what you mean,” he said. “I’ve never thought of it that way. What—”

A deep rumbling interrupted him. Anduin gasped as the floor beneath him vibrated ever so subtly, as if he were standing on a giant purring animal, except it signaled nothing so benevolent. Another
sound came from above—Anduin glanced up to see the hundreds of books trembling as they slowly moved out from their shelves.

Three thoughts struck him simultaneously. One, that he suspected all those books, and all the priceless knowledge they contained, were about to topple unceremoniously from tremendous heights to almost certain damage, if not destruction. Two, that the books that were about to topple unceremoniously were about to fall from tremendous heights on top of their heads. And finally, if the tablet pieces were to slide off the shaking table, they would shatter. He lunged forward and grabbed them, pressing the irreplaceable pieces of knowledge close to his heart.

“Look out!” Aerin cried, grabbing the arms of both Anduin and Belgrum and dragging them along to the large archway that separated the library from the main display hall. Anduin misunderstood and thought she meant for them to flee the hall completely, and he kept going until, with a grunt, Aerin flung herself bodily on him. Frantically he twisted and landed hard on his hip, Aerin at his back, the tablet protected still.

“Nay, Anduin! Not out there! Stay in th’ archway!”

The warning came not a second too soon. He had fallen directly under the pteradon skeleton. It was rattling violently, the chain suspending it swinging and making the bony wings flap as if it had suddenly come to unlife. The bindings that positioned it in such a pose had never been meant to hold against anything more demanding than gravity, and even as Anduin watched, the wiring snapped and the skeletal wings crashed down. For a long, slow, horrified moment he simply watched as death toppled toward him.

Then stout, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and his face was pressed into cold plate as Aerin draped herself atop him. She uttered a pained “oof!” as one of the fossilized bones clanged against her armor and forced the wind out of her lungs.

A heartbeat later, it was all over. Aerin leaned back, her face drawn in pain but otherwise seemingly all right. Anduin sat up and looked around cautiously. The books, as he had expected, were on the floor, as were most of what had adorned the tables.

“The tablet!” cried Belgrum, hurrying to his feet.

“I have it,” Anduin said.

“Good lad!” exclaimed Magellas.

Aerin got to her feet, wincing slightly. Anduin followed, his legs shaking, clutching the tablet pieces to his chest still. He stared at her.

“You saved my life,” he said quietly.

“Och,” she said, waving it aside. “Ye’d have done the same. Besides, I’d be a poor bodyguard if I wasna prepared to save yer life when I needed to, now wouldn’t I?”

He nodded, grateful, and gave her a smile. She winked back playfully.

“Everyone else all right?” Anduin asked, handing the tablet over to Belgrum.

“Looks like … och, the poor books,” Magellas said, real pain in his voice. Anduin nodded solemnly.

“I should see if anyone else needs help,” Aerin said.

“Good idea. Let’s go.”

“I’m nae takin’ ye into danger,” Aerin said.

“Well, you have to stick with me, so you can’t really go off alone, can you?” He had her there, and she gave him a scowl. “Let’s go to the Hall of Mysteries,” Anduin continued. “If anyone’s hurt, they’re going to need healers.”

He left the Hall of Explorers and went quickly to the Hall of Mysteries, Aerin, seemingly completely recovered, trotting along beside him. They slowed as they approached.

Dozens of people were clustered about the hall. Some were walking on their own. Others were being carried, or were borne on the backs of rams. Some were lying on the cold stone floor while their loved ones wept frantically, calling for the priests, who seemed very scarce and were murmuring healing prayers at a rapid rate.

“Oh, dear,” Aerin said. “Looks like we were lucky.”

Anduin nodded. “Rohan’s not here,” he said. “That means there’s a worse situation somewhere else.” He gently grabbed ahold of one priestess as she scurried past. “Excuse me, but where is High Priest Rohan?”

“He’s been called away,” she said.

“Where?”

“Kharanos. It hit harder there. Now please, let me tend tae these people!”

“Come on,” Anduin said to Aerin.

“What?”

“We’re going to Kharanos. I’ve been taught how to help in emergency situations,” Anduin said. “I can tend wounds, set bones, bandage—help until the real healers can get to people.”

“And how many bones have ye actually set?”

“Um … none. But I know how to!” At her uncertain look, he grabbed her arms and shook her. “Aerin, listen! I can help! I can’t just stand around here and watch!”

“Help these fine folk, then,” Aerin said practically.

Anduin glanced around. Now that he looked at them, he realized that what he was seeing was the blood left by a healed injury, not an injury itself. Most of those still actually injured were mobile, upright, and talking. This was not an emergency site, although it was clear that the priests were being kept busy and would be for some time.

“They don’t need it,” he said quietly. “I want to help those that really
do
. Please—let’s go to Kharanos.”

Her eyes searched his and she sighed. “All right. But I’m nae letting ye wander into danger, got that?”

He smiled. “Fine, but let’s hurry, all right?”

Anduin hung on tightly to the great ram as it took the slick, icy path from Ironforge to the small villages in its shadow at a full gallop. He had no choice but to trust in the ram’s sure hooves, and he realized somewhat to his surprise his trust seemed to be well placed. There wasn’t a single stumble. The large beasts were actually more comfortable to ride than horses, he had found, but that still didn’t mean he enjoyed the breakneck pace of the trip.

As they approached Kharanos, they were greeted by several of the mountaineers stationed there.

“Hurry! Several are trapped in town!” one of them cried. “Give me yer ram, lass! I’ve got tae ride tae Ironforge and get more help!”

Immediately Aerin slipped off and handed the reins over to the mountaineer, who vaulted into the saddle and took off. Without a word Aerin quickly climbed up behind Anduin and they hurried on grimly.

The injuries were much more severe here. Anduin saw nearly a dozen people being treated right out in the open, as almost all of the buildings were damaged in some way. He looked around for Rohan, and found him kneeling over an elderly dwarf female. Anduin slipped off the ram and hurried to the high priest just in time to see him pull a sheet over the still form.

Rohan looked up, his eyes looking older than Anduin had ever
seen them. “Prince Anduin,” he said, “I thought ye might come. Know some first aid training, do ye?”

Anduin nodded. “And I’m no dwarf, but I’ve got a pretty strong back,” he said. “I hear people are trapped inside.”

“Aye,” he said, “but it’s healers we’re short of, nae strong backs. Aerin, lass, go help the others; I’ll put our boy tae work here.”

“Aye,” Aerin said, “let’s get these people out o’ danger and into th’ fresh air!”

And for the next several hours Anduin was indeed put to work. As more and more victims of the quake were pulled from the rubble, Rohan healed those with the most grievous injuries, leaving those with minor wounds to Anduin. He bathed and bandaged and smiled and reassured, and at one point saw Rohan looking at him approvingly.

He thought about his father as he worked. Varian was a warrior. Anduin knew that he was not. Sparring and the thought of dealing injury had never made the human prince feel the way he did now, when he was doing something concrete to ease pain instead of cause it, to help people instead of harm them. Oh, war was a dark and dire necessity sometimes, as was the case in Northrend, but Anduin knew in his heart that he would always long for, and strive for, peace. The injuries here, caused by nature and unavoidable, were bad enough. Anduin did not want to think how he would feel if he were treating those wounded in battle and not by the accidental fall of rocks.

Someone had set up a cauldron and filled it with snow. The resulting water was hot and clean. Anduin poured a small bit of a healing potion into a mug of water and added a few leaves of peacebloom to steep, then handed the mug to a young gnomish mother. She let her two children, a baby and a toddler, sip it first before taking a drink herself.

“You’re very kind, sir,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said, patting the baby’s tiny head and moving on to a cantankerous middle-aged dwarf male who was arguing with another healer. The priestess, a visiting night elf, was
dabbing at a cut on the dwarf’s forehead that was bleeding profusely.

“I’m fine, curse ye, go an’ tend tae someone who’s really wounded, or I’ll make ye next in line wi’ a broken nose!”

“Sir, please, if you’ll just hold still—”

“I’ll no waste yer precious healing abilities on a wee cut!” the dwarf bellowed. “Why don’t ye—”

The earth rumbled again. This time Anduin did not feel that he was standing on a large purring creature, but attempting to balance atop a bucking horse. His feet went out from under him and he hit the frozen ground hard. It rumbled beneath him, angry and aggressive this time, and he covered his head and held his breath and waited for it to be over. All around him he heard screaming, high-pitched and terrified, and a low, rumbling, cracking sound. Anduin fought against a primal terror as he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the Light. He hadn’t anticipated this. He’d handled the first quake just fine, but now reason seemed to have deserted him. He realized that the screaming he heard around him now included his own voice.

Something warm and calming touched him, and he felt the familiar sensation of the Light. His chest suddenly loosened and he was able to breathe. The earth still heaved beneath him, but he could think now, could ride it out in control of his emotions, not they in control of him. Others, too, seemed to calm, and the awful sound of screams no longer mixed with the sounds of a shaking earth.