Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War (26 page)

Ice shards rained down, some of them killing on impact, others wounding. Another quick flick of her wrist, and several Horde fighters were frozen where they stood. A fireball shattered the frozen forms as if they were statues. The wave retreated. She repeated the actions in a steady rhythm, killing at least a dozen with every methodical and debilitating strike. She could see a figure lingering just out of range, shouting orders, and recognized the distinctive demon tusks that formed the orc’s shoulder armor.

“Garrosh,” she whispered. He shouldn’t have survived the blast that had killed Wymor—but somehow he had. He could not have heard the soft sound, but at that moment he looked up and their eyes met. A sneer curled his lips, and he lifted Gorehowl and pointed at her.

•   •   •

Malkorok was angry—with himself, for not expecting the ambush; with the scouts, who should have discovered it; with the Alliance generals, who were too cursed clever and who had come up with the plan in the first place. The wave of stealthy rogues, druids, and hunter beasts had claimed many Horde lives. The close-quarters battle had claimed still more. Now they were being fired on by cannons and ballistae, their waves getting mowed down as they tried to approach.

He needed another tactic. He blew the horn of retreat and they fell back. Healers frantically tried to tend to the wounded while Malkorok shouted his orders.

“We are no match for their engines of war,” he said, holding up a hand to stop any angry protests. “So we must eliminate those weapons—or else take them for our own. Those of you who are clever at stalking and murder—go now. We will draw their fire. Creep up on those Alliance worms who hide safely behind their
technology, and put a knife in their ribs. Then take the equipment and turn it on Theramore itself!”

The angry protests became cheers. Malkorok grunted, pleased. The strategy could not fail to work. The Alliance generals were clever, yes.

But so was he.

“For the Horde!” he shouted, and they took up the cry: “For the Horde! For the Horde!
For the Horde!
”

•   •   •

Kalec flew over the ships in the harbor. From this distance, they looked like toys—toys that were firing cannons, bursting into flames, and sinking. There was damage on both sides; the Horde, too, had determined the wisdom of positioning magi to incinerate the enemy’s vessels, and more than one of the famous 7th fleet battleships bore blossoms of orange-and-gold fire. He dove low, sending a chilling breath to extinguish the flames where he could, and hearing the cheers of the relieved crews as he did so. He angled his body to wheel about, turning his attention to the Horde vessels and the more somber task of attacking rather than protecting. Kalec flew until he was directly over a cluster of three of them, then tucked his wings and dropped. So swift was he that the cannoneers didn’t see him in time to redirect their fire. At the last second, the blue dragon opened his wings and lashed out with his tail. The mast of the ship in the center snapped like a twig. As Kalec gained height, he conjured a spell, and ice shards rained down, plunging toward the decks and punching massive holes in them. Now the cannons did roar, but by then Kalec was well out of range.

He flew back over the city, aware of how many were engaged in aerial combat. Kalec swerved toward a group of several Horde fighters against only a few embattled gryphons and joined in the fray.

•   •   •

The Horde had reached the north gate, and the terrifying, rhythmic thud of a battering ram was added to the sounds of conflict. How they had gotten it over the swamp when the bridge was destroyed was a
mystery—probably, thought Jaina as she hurried to the gate, several tauren had simply borne the massive thing on their shoulders as they waded across.

She had intended to race up the steps to the walkway again, to lend her aid to those who were already there and try to attack as many at once as possible. But something stopped her.

The gates were shuddering under the pounding.

And they shouldn’t have been.

Not with a member of the Kirin Tor shoring them up with powerful magics. A terrible thought occurred to her.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The timbers were bulging from the impact. And the hinges and metal bands—

They were curling in on themselves.

Jaina whirled and, with all her might, sent a massive blast of arcane energy directly at Thalen Songweaver.

In his arrogance, he was not expecting it. He stumbled back but recovered quickly. The blood elf stared at Jaina. For an instant, it appeared as if Thalen would protest his innocence, but then his white brows drew together as he sneered and lifted his hands.

He dropped like a stone. Pained stood behind him, still holding the sword whose hilt had so inelegantly yet efficiently disabled the foe.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just kill him,” Jaina said as two others rushed up and prepared to bind the mage hand and foot.

“A traitor is a useful thing to have on hand,” Pained said. “With luck, we will… persuade him to talk.”

“We’re not the Scarlet Onslaught, Pained,” Jaina said. She turned to redirect her attention to the gate, but two other magi had already stepped in to protect it. A human and a gnome.

“I hope you are not suggesting you will invite him to tea,” Pained said.

“No. I will hand him over to Captain Evencane. He and others will interrogate him when we have a moment to spare.” She nodded to the soldiers, who carted off the unconscious blood elf, and realized that Rhonin had stepped beside her.

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “I personally vouched for him to come.”

“I am certain he fooled many others than you,” Jaina said.

“Indeed,” Rhonin said bitterly. “This will be a blow to Aethas and his cause.”

“Do you think Thalen acted alone?”

“I do,” Rhonin said. “Because if I don’t—”

The gate splintered, caught fire, and the Horde rushed through.

•   •   •

Kinndy found herself trembling from the strain, and she had the help of a Kirin Tor mage! Thoder smiled down at her reassuringly, his rough face kind. “You’re doing very well,” he said. “Lady Jaina has chosen a fine apprentice.”

“I’d be better if I didn’t feel like I was going to fall over,” Kinndy muttered.

“Take a rest,” Thoder said. “Eat something. You’ll be stronger for it in just a few moments, and I can hold it until then.”

Kinndy nodded gratefully and staggered off, leaning against the stone wall as she gobbled down bread and water. She wondered if she’d ever be anywhere near as good as Thoder or Lady Jaina. They made it seem so effortless. Especially Lady Jaina. Kinndy had been in awe as Jaina had blasted wave after wave of the encroaching Horde with apparent ease. As she ate, Kinndy found her mind drifting toward the sounds of battle raging right on the other side of the wall, and felt herself drawing inward. Focusing on keeping the gate closed had helped distract her more than she had realized. Uneasy with the revelation, she straightened, brushed crumbs from her mouth, and ran over to rejoin Thoder.

As she approached, she saw the gate timbers strain, and the blood drained from her face. Outside, the battle was escalating.

Kinndy, if that gate comes down, dozens—hundreds—of Horde will pour through. We’ve got to keep it as secure as possible. This might be the single most important thing anyone can do. You could save all our lives.

She quickened her pace the rest of the way, extending her hands and muttering a spell as she did. And to her pride and relief, she saw the buckling of the wood subside.

“Horde have breached the gates! Horde have breached the gates!”

For a wild second, all Kinndy thought was,
No, the gates are holding just fine!
And then she understood. Apparently, the magi at the north gate had not been so fortunate.

•   •   •

Seldom had Theramore witnessed such violence. The Horde was pouring forward like a wave through a break in the dike.

That the Horde would somehow enter the city, by finally destroying the wards or by scrambling over the walls or by aerial assault, had been anticipated and prepared for. Treason from within the very ranks of the Kirin Tor had not. The battle inside Theramore had come too soon, and the Alliance defenders who had been expected to fight hand-to-hand were still recovering from their earlier injuries.

It was a saying that generals stood back and planned wars while others fought and died in them. Such was not the case with these. Fully armored and armed, Jonathan, Redmane, Stoutblow, Shandris, and Tiras’alan charged into the fray without hesitation, so that the Horde met not fresh-faced recruits but some of the very best fighters the Alliance had to offer.

•   •   •

Kalecgos flew over Theramore, doing reconnaissance to see how the battle was progressing and where he was needed. He saw the Horde flood into the city and immediately began pressing the attack. He breathed a cloud of frost on them, slowing their movements, then rose, wheeled, and attacked a second time.

He dove, caught Jaina up in his forepaw, and bore her upward—not taking her out of her battle, no, but giving her a dragon’s-eye view.

“Where do you most need me?” he asked. “And where should you be?”

She was completely relaxed in the grasp of his huge forepaw. Her hands rested on a great talon, and she peered down, the wind from his wings whipping her hair about her face.

“The north gate!” she cried. “There are so many still out there—we must stop any more coming in! Kalec—can you bring some trees and boulders to block the entrance and then focus on the Horde remaining outside? Drive them back?”

“I will,” Kalec promised. “And you?”

“Put me on the top of the citadel roof,” she said. “I can see nearly everything from there and can attack without being a target myself.”

“Save for those who take to the air,” Kalec said, warning her.

“I know it’s a risk, but it can’t be helped. Hurry, please!”

At once Kalec veered toward the citadel and placed Jaina on its roof with exquisite gentleness. She gave him a heartfelt smile of gratitude. Kalec started to rise, but she held a hand out to him, imploring him to stop.

“Kalec, wait! You should know—Garrosh is with the forces at the north gate! If we can capture him—”

“Then we can end this war right now,” he replied. “I understand.”

“Stop the flow through the gate—then try to find Garrosh!”

He nodded, rose, turned, breathed frost once more upon the Horde combatants still pouring in from the north gate, then headed toward the swamp.

•   •   •

From her position, Jaina had an excellent view. She looked to the harbor. It seemed as though the two sides were evenly matched; there were Horde ships and Alliance both aflame, and she could see the banners of each side fluttering plaintively aboard half-sunken wreckage. The west gate held, and she felt a fierce swell of pride in Kinndy. Several hunters, magi, warlocks, and others who could fight well from a distance were lined along the walkways.

She turned to the north, and she felt both sadness and resolution. With so many in close quarters, she needed to target cleanly, so as to
wound or kill the enemy without harming a fellow member of the Alliance.

Her eyes fell first upon Baine, and she felt a pang. Baine was locked in combat with Pained, and she realized that as long as there were other enemies to fight, she could not bring herself to attack the tauren high chieftain. And Light knew, there were plenty of other targets—undead wielding swords with arms that were half-rotting; massive orcs; small, swift goblins; beautiful sin’dorei who moved like dancers.

She focused on an orc shaman whose dark-hued garb seemed to more resemble that of a warlock than the pleasant natural hues Go’el had worn. Jaina murmured a spell, and shards of ice went flying toward the shaman. They pierced his black robes like so many daggers, and he arched in pain. He dropped, and Jaina, regretfully but efficiently, sought another target.

•   •   •

It was the first crashing sound of a boulder being dropped in front of the ruined gate that alerted Vol’jin that perhaps Garrosh’s plan had a flaw. A big one.

He was in the courtyard with many others, using his connections with the loa to help his brothers and sisters. An undulating, hissing serpent ward kept several Alliance soldiers from attacking Horde members. He whirled, momentarily distracted as the boulder slammed down.

He swore in his native tongue, glancing about. Baine was battling beside Garrosh. The blue-haired night elf seemed to be giving Baine a good fight. Several Alliance defenders, including two dwarves dressed in very formal armor, were attacking Garrosh. A few moments earlier, the blue dragon had passed over them, slowing their movements. And now, that same creature was determined to shore up the gate.

Vol’jin fought his way up to Garrosh and Baine. Shouting to be heard over the din, he cried in Orcish, “Dat dragon be tryin’ to trap us!”

Baine’s long ears swiveled forward, and then the high chieftain skillfully maneuvered himself and the elf he was fighting so he could see. His eyes widened. The elf leaped on him, but Baine got his mace up and slammed her away. She turned the fall into a roll and started to come at him again. Swiftly Vol’jin set the serpent ward upon her, buying the tauren a brief respite.

“Garrosh!” bellowed Baine. “We will be sealed inside!”

Garrosh grunted and risked a quick glance. Strangely, he did not seem too concerned. “Agreed. Fall back, my Horde! Fall back to your brothers!”

A horn sounded the retreat. The boulder was joined by a large tree. A shaman called out for aid from the elements, and the boulder rolled away slightly, widening the gap. The Horde, once so keen to enter Theramore, now hastened to leave it. The Alliance, however, did all they could to stop the escape, renewing their efforts in hand-to-hand combat and shoring up the broken gate as fast as the Horde could tear it down.

Baine hung back, trying to fend off the persistent night elf, buying time for his people to escape. Vol’jin called to his trolls, though it was clear the bloodlust was high in them and they did not wish to stop fighting. Garrosh, strangely, hurried out, pausing to call back to those who did not follow at once.