The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm (16 page)

“Our good and others,” Bink said, smiling winningly. She attempted to brush the dust off Anduin’s knees solicitously. Anduin winced and stepped back, forcing a smile. “So terribly sorry!”

“That’s all right,” he said. “I should be more careful, too.”

They both beamed up at him at the same instant, then bowed and scurried off. Amused but hurting, Anduin watched them go.

“Here now, lad,” came a deep, kindly voice. “Let me take care o’ that for ye.”

A sudden pleasant warmth seeped gently through Anduin, and he turned to see an elderly dwarf chanting softly while moving his hands. His long, white beard had two braids and a third ponytail. The top of his head was quite bald, with a ponytail in back and long fringes on the side. His green eyes crinkled in a smile. A heartbeat later, Anduin realized all the pain was gone—the stinging of his bumped knees, the aches and stiffness of his training. He felt rested, refreshed, as if he’d just awoken from a good night’s sleep.

“Thank you.”

“Ye’re welcome, lad. Might ye be th’ young prince o’ Stormwind we’ve been told tae expect?”

Anduin nodded and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you … ?”

“High Priest Rohan. Light’s blessing be on ye. How do ye find our glorious city?”

“By taking the Deeprun Tram,” Anduin quipped, the old joke escaping before he realized it. His eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

To his surprise and relief, the high priest threw back his balding head and laughed heartily. “Och, I’ve not heard that one in far too long. I walked ri’ into it, did I not?” The guffaw subsided to a chuckle.

Anduin relaxed, grinning a little himself. “It’s a
really
bad joke. I apologize.”

“Well, I’ll fergive ye if ye can come up with some better ones,” Rohan said.

“I’ll try. …”

“Far too little laughter these days, says I. Och, the Light’s serious business, but then again, ye cannot be
Lighthearted
without a little humor, can ye?”

Anduin eyed him dubiously, wondering if it would be disrespectful if he groaned at the pun. His expression did not go unnoticed, but Rohan only smiled the more. “Aye, I ken, ’tis a poor joke, which is why I hope ye’ll teach me some new ones. In the meantime, what brings ye to the Hall of Mysteries?”

Suddenly serious, Anduin said, “I just … I just missed the Light.”

The old dwarf smiled gently, and this time his voice was soft and serious, though no less full of joy. “It is never far, lad. We carry it in ourselves, although ’tis true, seeking the company of others in a special place feeds th’ soul. Ye are welcome here any time, Anduin Wrynn.”

No title. Anduin knew he did not have one before the Light, and neither did Rohan. He remembered his father saying once, after he had been home for a time, that if it were not for Anduin, and for
the people of Stormwind who relied upon him, Varian would have been content to remain Lo’Gosh, fighting in the ring. It was an uncomplicated and straightforward, if short and brutish, existence, lacking all the complexities of royal life.

As he walked up the curving stairway to the quieter rooms above, the soft blue light augmented by the glowing orange of the braziers here and there, he realized that he understood his father’s longing. Not for the violence of the ring and the threat of sudden death each day: his father might crave the fight, but not he. No, what Anduin longed for was the seemingly elusive luxury of peace. Peace to sit in quiet contemplation, to study, to help people. A priestess brushed past him, smiling gently, her face calm.

Anduin sighed. It was not his fate. He was born a prince, not a priest, and no doubt his destiny included more war, more violence, and would demand of him politicking and maneuvering.

But for now, here in the Hall of Mysteries, Anduin Wrynn—no title at the moment—sat quietly and thought not of his father, or Thrall, or even Jaina, but of a world where anyone could walk into any city and be welcomed there with open arms.

Drek’Thar tossed and turned in his sleep. Visions plucked at him, pinched and teased and tormented him. Half-glimpsed, uncertain, unclear; visions both of peace and prosperity and disaster and ruination playing out simultaneously in the theater of his mind.

He could see in this vision. He stood, and yet there was nothing beneath his feet. All around him were stars and inky black sky, above and below. Images of the Spirits of Earth, Air, Fire, Water—all angry, all unhappy, all raging at him. They reached out to him, pleading, and yet when he turned to them, heart open and trying to understand, rebuffed him with fury so profound he staggered. If they had been children, they would have wept.

Water crashed around him, whipped by Air manifesting as wind. Storms, strong and powerful, catching up ships and snapping them like child’s toys. Cairne and Grom’s boys were on such a ship … no, no, it was Thrall … then it did not matter
who
was on the ship, for it had been smashed to sodden kindling.

Fire was next, its sparks diving at Drek’Thar like birds protecting a nest. He was powerless under the onslaught, crying out as his clothing caught and burned. He beat at it frantically, but the flame refused to be extinguished.

Just as it seemed that Drek’Thar would succumb to Fire’s attack, it ceased. He was whole and sound. Drek’Thar breathed heavily,
trembling. The moments stretched out. Nothing happened, yet the vision continued.

And that was when he felt the rumbling beneath his feet. And he knew, somehow, that Air and Water and Fire had already voiced their pain. And while they might yet again, this trembling of a sobbing Earth beneath his feet was, Drek’Thar knew, yet to come. And he sensed it would be terrible. Images flashed through his mind—a place of snow, a place of forests—

He shouted and bolted upright, blinking eyes that once again, mercifully, saw only darkness. His reaching hands met those of Palkar, as they always did.

“What is it, Greatfather?” asked the younger orc. His voice was clear, strong, untroubled by all that haunted Drek’Thar.

Drek’Thar opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his thoughts were as dark as his eyes. He had dreamed—something. Something important. Something he needed to share—

“I … I don’t know,” he whispered. “Something terrible is about to happen, Palkar. But … I don’t know what.
I don’t know
!”

He shook with frustrated, fearful sobs.

The tears that streamed down his face were warm.

Anduin developed a routine as the days unfolded. Mornings were spent training with the seemingly inexhaustible and eternally chipper Aerin. When they were not sparring, she and Anduin went for rides out in the countryside. While rams would never be his favorite mounts, Anduin loved the chance to get outside; the clear air made him feel almost giddy, and the snowy land was so very different from the temperate clime of Stormwind. He grew to become very fond of Aerin. He could trust her to not pull a punch, physically or verbally, and found that very refreshing. Once, he asked about Moira.

“Och, that’s a convoluted business, that,” she said.

“Sounds straightforward to me. She got kidnapped, was enchanted, and broke Magni’s heart.”

“I’ll certainly agree that he misses her,” Aerin said, “but he was no the best daddy tae her either.”

Anduin was stunned. He’d always imagined the bluff dwarf as the perfect father. Surely he would appreciate someone for who they were, not who he wanted them to be.

“Not cruel, or anything, mind. But … well, Her Highness was the wrong gender. Magni always wanted a son tae rule after him. Felt that a female just wouldna do th’ job right.”

“Jaina Proudmoore is a wonderful leader of her people,” Anduin said.

“Aye, and it wasn’t long after Moira disappeared that His Majesty put me an’ a few others in his elite guard,” Aerin said. “I think he finally understood that he’d been a bit unfair. ’Tis my hope that one day, father an’ daughter will have a chance tae make things right.”

Anduin hoped so, too. It would seem that father–child difficulties were not limited to humans.

As they rode together, he got to know the people of the neighboring areas of Kharanos and Steelgrill’s Depot. Once they even rode as far as Thelsamar in Loch Modan, where they broke for lunch and Anduin, exhausted, fell asleep by the loch and awoke two hours later to an exquisitely painful sunburn.

“Och, ye humans, not smart enough tae come in out o’ the sun,” quipped Aerin.

“How come
you
aren’t burned?” asked Anduin crossly. Ninety percent of the time he saw her, Aerin was in full armor, and the rest of the time she lived underground. What skin was now revealed was even paler than his own.

“I went and napped in the shade o’ yon rock outcropping,” she said.

He gaped at her. “Why didn’t you suggest that to me?”

“Thought ye’d figure it out for yerself. Ye will in the future, won’t ye?” She smiled placidly at him, and although he was in terrible pain and the color of a crab when it was boiled, he found he could not be angry at her. He hissed as he put his shirt back on; the fine runecloth fabric, soft as a feather, was agony. Aerin was right.
He would never let himself drift off on a sunny day without making damned sure he was well protected by the shade.

He returned to his quarters to find a letter waiting for him. It was in Magni Bronzebeard’s own bold handwriting:

He’d hoped to ask High Priest Rohan for some help with his sunburn, but Magni’s summons clearly brooked no delay. He showed the letter to Aerin, whose eyes widened. She nodded, and as one they turned and hastened to the High Seat. Despite the pain of his sunburn, Anduin broke into a trot. Worry flooded him. Had something happened to his father? Had war finally broken out between the Horde and the Alliance?

Magni was there, leaning over a table. Two other dwarves, their garb travel stained, were on either side of him. A third dwarf looked on eagerly. Anduin recognized him as High Explorer Muninn Magellas, the head of the Explorers’ League, a dashing dwarf with red hair and beard who liked to sport goggles most of the time. On the table were three stone tablets. Anduin skidded to a halt, exchanging a quick, confused glance with Aerin, who shrugged, clearly just as confused as he.

“Ah, Anduin, lad, come here, come here! Ye’ll want tae see this!” Magni waved him forward, his eyes alight with excitement. Relief filled Anduin, leaving him feeling momentarily drained, and then he felt a twinge of annoyance.

“Your message sounded urgent, Your M—Uncle Magni,” he said, moving forward, feeling the sunburn with renewed awareness.

“Och, not urgent, but most intriguing! Come take a look for yerself!”

One of the dwarves nodded and stepped out of the way so Anduin could stand beside Magni and Magellas. He looked at the tablets, realizing now that there were not three, but only one, which had been broken into pieces. There was writing on each
part of the shattered tablet. Anduin knew several languages, but this was unfamiliar to him.

“Me brother Brann sent this tae me,” Magni said. He pulled off one of his gloves and ran bare, powerful fingers over the texts with a startlingly light touch. “He was intrigued and thought I might be as well.” He glanced at Anduin. “And as soon as I saw these, I sent for ye. I imagine ye’ve no idea what ye’re looking at.”

Anduin laughed a little and shook his head. “I’ve never seen this before.”

“I’m not sure anyone has, at least not in a long, long time. This writing … it is of the earthen.”

Anduin’s skin erupted in gooseflesh and he stared at the broken pieces with new respect. The earthen were creations of the titans, long, long ago. And it was from the earthen that the current dwarves were descended. The stone in front of him was unspeakably old, perhaps as old as ten thousand years—maybe even older. He, too, reached a trembling hand to touch it, lightly, as Magni had, with profound respect.

“Do you know what it says?”

“Nay, I’m not schooled in such things. Even Brann had a wee bit o’ trouble with this. That’s why he sent it here, to the experts at the hall. He got something … let me see …” Magni picked up a piece of paper that lay on the table. “Something about … becoming one with the earth.”

“Hmph,” said Aerin. She was, as Anduin was learning, all about practical matters. She did not have much in the way of imagination and had gotten so bored with the repeated visits to the Hall of Explorers that Anduin had officially relieved her of duty when he spent time there. “Becoming one with the earth? Sounds like bein’ buried in it tae me.”

Anduin shot her a glare that had no malice in it and returned his attention to the tablet. “What do you think it means? That’s kind of vague.”

“Indeed, and one must have clarity in such things,” Magni said, nodding. He eyed Anduin speculatively. “Ye’re a right sharp lad,
Anduin. Have ye been paying attention to what’s been going on in th’ world?”

Anduin was confused. “I know there’s a lot of tension between the Alliance and the Horde,” he said, wondering if that was what Magni was getting at. “That the Horde has been stirring up trouble because its supplies are depleted on account of the war.”