Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War (18 page)

“On the heels of such an unpleasant encounter,” he said, “I have good news for my warchief. Phase two of your campaign has begun.”

•   •   •

Captain Gharga squinted one eye against the bright sunlight and peered through a spyglass with the other. The waves were cooperating—the sailing was smooth. His lips curved around his tusks as he grinned at what he saw, and then he lowered the spyglass. He looked aft to see the other ships of the warchief’s navy sailing steadily behind.

The
Blood and Thunder
and the other vessels, all crowded with cannons and crewed by orcs eager for the battle that was yet to come, moved closer to their destination.

Initially Gharga had been insulted when the
Blood and Thunder
and the other orc vessels had not been asked to participate in the Razing of Northwatch Hold, as it was coming to be known. He was mollified when Garrosh had told him that while Northwatch was being taken by the goblins, Forsaken, and blood elves, he was saving his orcs for another, more glorious battle. Garrosh had informed him, “You, Captain Gharga, will lead the fleet against Theramore!”

Gharga’s barrel chest had swelled with pride. It was not the first time Garrosh had shown the
Blood and Thunder
favor. Well did Gharga recall when, as first mate, he had assisted in ferrying several Magnataur from Northrend to unleash upon the Alliance. Briln, the captain, had taken full responsibility for the loss of two Magnataur during a terrible storm. Briln had fully expected to be executed for the setback. Instead, Garrosh had held the captain blameless and had actually promoted him—and, with that gesture, promoted Gharga to captain.

The
Blood and Thunder
was a lucky ship, it would seem. Everyone wanted to transfer to her, so Gharga had had his pick of sea dogs from which to choose. It boded well for the battle.

While the blood elf, goblin, and Forsaken ships had assembled in Ratchet, the orc ships had set sail for Theramore. They had waited in Horde waters, safely out of sight. Waited… and waited… for further instructions, which had come in the form of a hawk with a message tied to its leg:

Move into position. Take care you do not cross into Alliance territory. Do not flush the quarry too soon. Await my order.

So it was that now, eagerly, they moved close enough to see the towers of Theramore through a spyglass. Satisfied that they were still technically in Horde waters, Gharga barked the order that the anchor be dropped. With much grunting, two crewmen wrestled the giant
iron hook into the water. It splashed loudly, then sank to the ocean bottom.

Gharga noticed his first mate looking both sad and sullen. He smacked the young orc gently on the head. “An expression like that will spoil the rum,” he said.

The young orc snapped to attention, saluting. “Pardon, Captain, sir! I was just…”

“Just what?”

“Sir! Wondering why we moved at all, sir, if we’re not going to attack.”

“A fair question, but a foolish one,” Gharga replied. “We are now close enough so that when the order to attack does come, we will be able to respond at once. And yet, we are not in Alliance waters. They will see us, and wring their hands, and worry, but they can do nothing unless we violate their waters. Even here, so far from shore, the Horde causes the Alliance to quake with fear. Our duty is to hold position, Lokhor. Garrosh knows more than we do. We will stay put until the moment he tells us the time is right to strike. Do not worry,” he said, gentling his voice. “Alliance blood will flow, and you will be one who sheds it. All of you!”

Lokhor smiled, and the crew of the
Blood and Thunder
cheered.

•   •   •

Jaina had hoped that what the dockmaster had told her wasn’t true. Prayed, even. But when she looked through the spyglass herself in the topmost part of the tower, her heart sank.

“So many,” she murmured.

Kalec, Kinndy, Pained, and Tervosh peered through the spyglass, and all looked solemn.

“It seems as though your information was correct,” said Tervosh.

“And you said Varian’s fleet isn’t due to arrive for at least another day, probably two,” said Kinndy somberly. “I counted at least eight warships. If they decide to attack before the 7th gets here, we all might as well start getting used to eating cactus apple surprise.”

Jaina placed a hand on Kinndy’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t be sure that Garrosh even takes prisoners, Kinndy.”

“My lady,” said Pained, “let us strike now! Surely Garrosh is not sending only a few ships. Remember the numbers gathered, waiting, at Northwatch! It will cost lives, but at least—”

“No,” Jaina said firmly. “They are not in Alliance waters. I will defend Theramore, but I cannot condone being the aggressor. We’ll just have to wait.”

“And hope,” muttered Tervosh.

Kalecgos had remained silent through the conversation, no doubt because he wished to remain neutral. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Kinndy piped up.

“Lady… I think you should go to Dalaran.”

Jaina’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You have friends there, and admirers.”

“That’s so, but the Kirin Tor is composed of both Horde and Alliance magi. They cannot side with us; they would betray that neutrality.”

“Maybe they would, and maybe they wouldn’t,” Kinndy said. “I mean—they don’t want to see the kind of bloodshed Garrosh is after. And we know there are even some Horde members who were willing to risk everything to warn us. It’s worth asking.”

“Indeed it is,” said Kalec, looking pleased. “There is such a thing as the greater good.”

Jaina looked at Tervosh. “I agree with Kinndy,” he said.

“Quite rightly,” said the gnome. Pained was nodding as well.

Jaina sighed. “Very well, let’s see what Master Rhonin has to say. Please—do not get your hopes up. Pained, start talking with the soldiers. We should be ready in case the captains of those ships decide that now is a fine time to attack.”

She met Kalec’s eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile. She returned it with one that did not feel reassured, and went to her parlor.

She touched the three books, and the bookshelf slid aside, revealing the mirror.

Chanting the spell and moving her hands, Jaina stood before the mirror, gazing into her own eyes for a moment before the blue swirl obscured its reflective surface. For several tense heartbeats, she
worried that Rhonin was too far away, but then his face came into view, tinted in hues of blue. His strong features looked weary until he recognized Jaina. Then he brightened.

“Lady,” he said. “Please tell me you are contacting me because Kalecgos has recovered the Focusing Iris.”

“Unfortunately, no. We were able to find a way for him to detect it again, but it seems whoever has it is ferrying it about to distract him. He is waiting—they must stop at some point if they are to use it.”

Rhonin nodded his red head and rubbed his eyes. “That assumes he’ll be able to get to it in time before they do—whatever it is they intend to do with it.”

“He is well aware of that,” said Jaina. “But there seems to be no other option.”

“Even dragons tire,” said Rhonin. “Well, if that isn’t what you wish to talk about, what is?”

Rhonin’s no-nonsense attitude often irritated others, but not Jaina. She found it refreshing. He had been a seemingly strange choice to lead the Kirin Tor, and no one knew that better than he. He was well aware that he was chosen because he had a history of looking at things in a different way from past leaders. And he was also a damned fine mage.

“Have you heard about Northwatch?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “It’s a rather small outpost, isn’t it?”

“It is—it
was
a respectably sized garrison, designed to keep an eye on the Horde activity in the Southern Barrens.” Rhonin had gone instantly alert at the usage of the past tense. “Four days ago, the Horde destroyed it utterly. It is reported that they used elemental magic of a very dark kind to do so. I received a warning from someone who was at that battle that the Horde’s plan is to march on Theramore.”

Rhonin narrowed his eyes. “And you will not name the source?”

“I cannot,” she said. “He came in good faith. I will not dishonor him.”

“Hmm,” Rhonin said, and pulled on his red beard thoughtfully for a moment. “But… you said this was four days ago. Why didn’t the Horde march straight south and wipe Theramore off the map?”

“We don’t know,” said Jaina. “But we do know there is a fleet of Horde battleships sitting right at the very outskirts of Alliance waters.”

Rhonin didn’t reply at once. Then he said, very carefully, “This is all very troubling for the Alliance and Theramore, of course. But what does it have to do with me?”

“Garrosh doesn’t plan to stop there,” Jaina said. “It’s just a jumping-off point to conquer the whole continent. You know Garrosh; he’s a hothead.”

“So am I,” said Rhonin.

Not bothering with tact, Jaina said, “You once were, perhaps, but since you became a husband and father and leader of the Kirin Tor, you’ve calmed quite a bit.”

He shrugged and smiled a little, acknowledging the comment.

“Thousands will die,” Jaina said, pressing him. “The Alliance will be driven from the shores of Kalimdor. Those who survive will be refugees. We already have too many without food and shelter still from the Cataclysm. The Eastern Kingdoms will not be able to care for the population of half an entire continent!”

“I ask you again, Jaina Proudmoore,” Rhonin said quietly, “what does this have to do with me?”

“The Kirin Tor does not take sides; I know that,” Jaina said. “But even Kalecgos thought you might be willing to come to our aid.”

“Protect an Alliance city from an attack by the Horde?”

She nodded mutely. He looked off to the side for a long moment, his eyes not focused, then said, “I cannot make such a decision alone. You’re going to have to convince others besides me. Dalaran is lovely this time of year.”

E
very time Jaina traveled to Dalaran, she was reminded anew of just how beautiful it was. The rich purple-hued spires of the city reached skyward, even as Dalaran hovered in the sky itself, untouched and untroubled by the concerns of Northrend below it. The streets gleamed, their red cobblestones clean, and its citizens, most of them as untouched and untroubled as the city itself, wandered freely. Here and nowhere else could be found remarkable items from vendors of all things rare and curious; here could be learned spells and history, whispered in hushed voices in quiet, peaceful halls.

Once, Dalaran had been a firm part of another continent altogether. Jaina remembered it best from those days, remembered strolling in the gardens, plucking goldenbark apples warm from the kiss of the sun.

Then Arthas had come.

Dalaran had been destroyed but not vanquished. The Kirin Tor had returned and rebuilt the mage capital, protecting it with a dome of violet magic, until the time had come for Dalaran to flourish anew as a hovering city. From here, the city-state had been the central focus of the Nexus War against Malygos, and, later, the fight against the Lich King. Yet one would find little here that was martial. Dalaran was at its best, and its populace happiest, when knowledge and learning were its greatest concerns.

Jaina herself had erected a monument to Antonidas. Usually when she traveled here, she paid “him” a visit, sometimes speaking her
thoughts aloud as she sat in the shadow of the man’s statue. But now her mission was of utmost importance.

She materialized inside the Violet Citadel itself, and the first face she saw was Rhonin’s. He smiled in welcome, but his eyes were troubled.

“Welcome, Lady Jaina,” he said. “You know everyone here.”

“Indeed I do,” said Jaina. Standing next to her husband was the white-haired, beautiful Vereesa Windrunner. She was the founder of the Silver Covenant and sister to Sylvanas, leader of the Forsaken, and Alleria, lost in Outland. Though the Windrunner family had suffered more than its share of tragedies, Vereesa, it seemed, had found happiness as the wife of a great mage and the proud mother of two beautiful children. Such domestic achievements, though, did not mean the high elf was content to stay in the shadows. As leader of the Silver Covenant, Jaina knew, Vereesa had publicly and staunchly opposed the admission of blood elves into the Kirin Tor.

She was, however, destined to be doomed in that pursuit, as the mage on Rhonin’s left proved. This was Archmage Aethas Sunreaver, the blood elf who had struggled as hard to gain admittance into the Kirin Tor as Vereesa had struggled to forbid it. The fourth present was a human female who, though her hair was snowy white, looked as though she could take—and best—anyone in a fight. Archmage Modera had the distinction of serving the longest in the high council of magi, the Council of Six, having been a member since the Second War.

Jaina nodded respectful greetings to them all, then turned to Rhonin. He stepped back a pace and moved his hands with the ease of one long used to working magic. A portal appeared. Jaina frowned slightly. Usually one could get a good glimpse of the place one was traveling to, but this portal seemed to lead not into a room, or even a place on land, but into open air. She gave Rhonin a quizzical glance.