The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm (35 page)

Garrosh had been listening in increasing horror, and now he bellowed, “Enough!
Silence,
old one!” They stood there staring at one another.

And then something broke in Garrosh. “She robbed me of my honor,” he said quietly. “She took my kill from me. I will never know now if I would have been strong enough to defeat Cairne Bloodhoof in a fair fight. Eitrigg, you must believe me!”

For the first time that night, the old orc’s eyes held a glimmer of sympathy. “I do, Garrosh. No one has ever questioned your honor in battle. If Cairne knew what was happening to him as he died, I believe he knew you were not to blame. But know that doubt has been sown here tonight. Doubt that you fought fairly—and they are speaking of it, in hushed whispers. Not everyone is as understanding as I and Cairne Bloodhoof.”

Garrosh stared again at the blood- and poison-coated weapon he bore. Magatha had stolen his honor. Had stolen his respect in the eyes of the Horde he so loved. She had used him, used Gorehowl, too, a weapon his father had once wielded. It had been coated with poison, the coward’s weapon. It, too, had been dishonored. And Magatha, in performing such a base, deceitful act, had spat in the face of her shamanic traditions. And Eitrigg was telling him that there were some who believed he would willingly be involved in this?

No! He would show Vol’jin and any others who voiced their lies exactly what he thought of them. He closed his eyes, clenched his hand on the hilt of Gorehowl, and let the rage take him.

Jaina’s first instinct upon seeing Anduin materialize so unexpectedly, almost literally in front of her, had been to contact his father. While Moira had been doing an excellent job of keeping a tight hold over communication going in and out of Ironforge, complete isolation was difficult to obtain. Rumors had begun circulating after only a day. Varian had immediately tried to contact his son by sending urgent letters. When they were not answered, he had become both worried and angry.

Jaina was not a parent, but she had an idea of what Varian was going through, both as the father of a son he had only recently reunited with and as a king fearing for the security of his kingdom. But more urgent than putting Varian’s fears to rest had been the calming of a potentially explosive situation. Sometimes politics began and ended with two people. While she had never met Baine, his reputation preceded him. She had certainly known, respected, and liked his father. Baine had come to her, risking everything, trusting that she would aid him. Jaina
did
know Anduin, quite well, and knew that if the initial shock and suspicion could be quelled, productive conversation would ensue.

And so she had assuaged their fears, and gotten them to speak, both to her and each other. The news each bore was dreadful in its own way. Baine spoke of the murder of his father at the hands of Garrosh and Magatha and the ensuing slaughter of a peaceful
people in one of the bloodiest coups Jaina had ever heard of. And Anduin spoke of a returning daughter whose rightful claim to the throne did nothing to mitigate the fear at the utterly tyrannical way she had swept into a city and taken away the liberties of its citizens.

Both, each in his own way, were fugitives. Jaina had made the promise to keep them safe and support them however she could, though the plans as to how exactly she would do that had not yet been formed.

Now voices were growing hoarse from speaking, and heads, including Jaina’s own, were starting to nod. But she felt good about what they had done here. Baine had told her that those who had accompanied him would be expecting his return, and if it did not happen, they would likely assume treachery. Jaina had understood; she would have assumed the same. She opened a portal to the site he requested, and he stepped through, leaving Anduin and Jaina alone.

“That was …” Anduin struggled for words. “I feel so bad for him.”

“I do, too … and for all those poor tauren in Thunder Bluff and Bloodhoof Village and all the other sites that came under attack. And Thrall … I don’t know what he’s going to do when he gets the news.” It would crack the orc’s noble heart, she knew. And indirectly, it was all because of his decision to appoint Garrosh as leader in his absence. Thrall would be devastated.

She sighed and shook it off, turning to Anduin and giving him the affectionate hug she’d not given him upon his arrival. “I’m so very glad you’re safe!”

“Thanks, Aunt Jaina,” he said, returning the hug and then pulling back. “My father … can I talk to him?”

“Of course,” Jaina said. “Come with me.”

The walls of Jaina’s small, cozy room were, not surprisingly, lined with books. She stepped up to one shelf and touched three of them in a particular order. Anduin gaped as the bookshelf slid aside to reveal what looked like a simple oval mirror hanging on the wall.
He closed his mouth as he caught a glimpse of his own reflection; he looked rather idiotic staring with his jaw open.

Jaina didn’t appear to notice. She murmured an incantation and waved her hands, and the reflection of Anduin, Jaina, and the room disappeared. In its place was a swirling blue mist.

“I hope he is nearby,” Jaina said, frowning a little. “Varian?”

A long, tense moment passed, then the blue mist seemed to take on a shape. A topknot of brown hair, features in a lighter shade of blue, a scar crossing the face—

“Anduin!” cried Varian Wrynn.

Jaina could not help but smile, despite the direness of the situation, at the love and relief in Varian’s voice and expression.

Anduin was grinning. “Hello, Father.”

“I’ve heard rumors. … How did—of course, the hearthstone,” said Varian, answering his own question. “Jaina—I owe you a tremendous debt of thanks. You may have saved Anduin’s life.”

“It was his own cleverness that made him remember to use it,” Jaina demurred. “I just gave him the tool.”

“Anduin … did that witch of a dwarf hurt you?” Varian’s dark brows drew together. “If she did, I will—”

“No, no,” Anduin hastened to assure his father. “And I don’t think she would. I’m too necessary to her. Let me tell you what happened.”

He filled his father in on all that had transpired, quickly, concisely, and accurately. They were almost the exact same words he had used earlier to Baine and Jaina. Not for the first time Jaina found herself admiring the cool head on the young man’s shoulders, especially given the fact that he—along with Jaina herself—was operating on very little sleep and under extremely tense circumstances.

“So you see, her claim is legitimate,” Anduin finished.

“Not that of empress,” Varian retorted.

“Well, no. But princess, yes, and queen, once she’s had a formal coronation. She doesn’t have to be doing this … trapping everyone like this.”

“No,” the king replied. “No. She doesn’t.” His eyes flickered to
Jaina. “Jaina, I’m not about to tip my hand to Moira and let it be known that Anduin escaped successfully. Let her stew for a bit. That means I have a favor to ask.”

“Of course he can stay here with me,” Jaina replied before he could even voice the question. “No one’s seen him yet, and the few who will are completely trustworthy. Whenever you’re ready for him to come home, just let us know.”

Anduin nodded. He had been expecting such a decision, but Jaina saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face. She didn’t blame him for it. Anyone in his position would have wanted to go home and be done with all this.

“Thank you,” said Varian. “And of course I’ll continue to publicly appear as baffled as she wants me to be.”

“As will I. We’ll let Moira think she’s succeeded in hiding her coup. And in the meantime—”

“Don’t worry.” Varian smiled coldly. “I’ve got a plan.”

And with that, his face vanished. Jaina blinked at the abrupt dismissal.

“He looked angry,” Anduin said quietly.

“Well, I’m sure he is. I was angry when I heard about all this, too, and the danger you were in. And he’s your father.”

Anduin sighed. “I wish there were something more I could do to help the people of Ironforge, or the tauren.”

Jaina resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He wasn’t a child anymore, and although he was probably too courteous to protest, she suspected he wouldn’t like it. She contented herself with giving him a reassuring smile.

“Anduin, believe me when I say that, somehow, I’m certain you’ll find a way.”

Anduin was surprised but pleased when he learned that Baine Bloodhoof had actually requested his presence at the next night’s meeting with Jaina. Although the sitting room where they had spoken last night seemed a strange place for such weighty negotiations,
Anduin didn’t object when Jaina suggested it again. And neither did Baine, although it was obvious that nothing in the room was ever intended for one of his bulk. Anduin wondered if somehow Baine, too, sensed the comfort of the room, even though it was so far removed from what Anduin understood to be the tauren lifestyle. But here friends had often gathered to ward off the chill of a cold rainy day with lively conversation, hot tea, and cookies. Maybe some of that good cheer lingered and was perceived by Baine.

It was an odd way to conduct negotiations, Anduin thought, remembering the summit at Theramore long ago. No formal declarations, no weapons to lay down, no guards. Just three people.

He decided he liked it.

Baine and Jaina were already there when Anduin came to join them. To Anduin, the tauren seemed a little calmer, but sadder, than he had last night. Anduin greeted Baine politely and sincerely, bowing the correct distance to an equal. Baine made his own gesture of respect, touching his heart and then his forehead. Anduin smiled. It began as an awkward smile, but as he regarded Baine, it softened into an easy, sincere one.

Baine, Jaina, and Anduin again sat on the floor. Anduin’s back was to the fire, and the heat beating against him was comfortable. Jaina brought in a tray of tea, placing it in the center between all of them. This time, Anduin noticed, she had an oversized mug for their guest.

Baine noticed it, too, and made a small, gentle, snorting sound. “Thank you, Lady Jaina,” he said. “I see the details do not escape you. Thrall does well to put his trust in you, I believe.”

“Thank you, Baine,” Jaina said. “Thrall’s trust means a great deal to me. I would never jeopardize it—or yours.”

Baine took a swallow from the mug, which, even though large, still looked small in his great hands. He stared into the cup for a moment. “There are some among the Forsaken who read tea leaves,” he said. “Do you know such an art, Lady Jaina?”

Jaina shook her bright head. “No, I do not,” she said. “Although I’m told that used tea leaves make a fine compost.”

It was a weak joke, but they all smiled. “It is just as well. I do not need to have an oracle tell me what my future holds. I have been thinking, praying for direction from the Earth Mother. Asking her to guide my heart. It is full of pain and anger now, and I do not know if it is altogether wise.”

“What does it tell you?” Jaina asked quietly.

He looked up at her with calm brown eyes. “My father was stolen from me by treachery. My heart cries out for vengeance for that despicable action.” His voice was steady, almost a monotone, but even so, Anduin found himself instinctively shrinking from it. Baine was not anyone he would ever want charging at him demanding vengeance.

“My heart says: They took from you, take from them. Take the Grimtotem who entered a peaceful city of their own kind in the dark of night, and who slew by smothering or stabbing victims too deep in slumber to fight back. Take their matriarch who placed poison on a blade instead of sacredly anointing it. Take the arrogant
fool
who dared fight my father and who could only win by stooping to—”

Baine was beginning to raise his voice, and the calmness in his eyes was slowly being replaced by anger. His hands tightened into fists the size of Anduin’s head, and his tail began to lash. Abruptly he halted in midsentence and took a deep breath.

“As you see, my heart is not wise at this moment. I am in agreement with it on one thing. I must retake my people’s territory—Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, Sun Rock Retreat, Camp Mojache, any other village or outpost where they have made incursions and spilled innocent blood.”

Anduin found himself nodding. He agreed completely, for many reasons. The Grimtotem shouldn’t be rewarded for such violence and cruelty, Baine would be a better leader than this Magatha, and besides, any hope of peace with the Alliance would only be made with this brave young tauren at the head of his people.

“I think you should as well,” Jaina said, but Anduin caught the note of caution in her voice. He knew she was wondering
what exactly he intended to do—and what would be asked of her. She must be willing to help in some way, or else she would never have permitted Baine to come speak with her in the first place. He held his tongue and let Baine continue.

“But there is something I cannot, I must not do. Even though my heart drives me to it. I cannot do this thing because I know my father would not wish me to, and I must honor his wishes—what he fought for, what he did with his life—rather than my own emotions.” Baine heaved an enormous sigh. “Much as I long to … I cannot attack Garrosh Hellscream.”