Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War (5 page)

“I suspected as much,” growled Baine.

“He denounced his crimes in service to Rend an’ asked for amnesty. Garrosh be givin’ it to him, along wit’ any others who swear to serve
him wit’ dere lives. Now da wahchief got a nice big dog wit’ sharp teeth ta protect him.”

“But—how can he be trusted?”

Vol’jin laughed a little. “Some might say, how can da Grimtotem be trusted? Yet you let da ones who swear loyalty stay at Thunder Bluff.”

Baine thought of Tarakor, a black bull who had served under Magatha. Tarakor had led the attack against Baine but had pleaded for reprieve for himself and his family. Tarakor had proven to be as good as his word, as had all the others whom Baine had pardoned. And yet, somehow, to Baine, the Grimtotem seemed different from the Blackrocks.

“Perhaps I am inclined to prejudge,” said Baine. “I think better of the tauren than I do of orcs.”

“Dese days,” Vol’jin said quietly, making sure he was not overheard, “so do I.”

•   •   •

Garrosh waited outside so that those who wished to take this opportunity to swear loyalty to him could do so more conveniently. A goblin female was kneeling before him, nattering on about something, when Malkorok said, “There he is.” Garrosh looked up and spotted Lor’themar.

“Bring him.”

He interrupted the goblin, patted her head, said, “I accept your oath,” and shooed her off as Malkorok approached with the blood elf leader. Lor’themar inclined his pale blond head in a gesture of respect.

“You wish to see me, Warchief?”

“I do,” said Garrosh, steering them off a few steps so that they might speak with more privacy. Malkorok ensured they would not be disturbed by stepping in front of them and folding his massive gray arms. “Out of all the leaders, save Gallywix—who is supportive merely because he sees coins to be made—you are the only one who doesn’t question your warchief. Not even when Sylvanas tries to play upon your sympathy. I respect that, elf. Know that your loyalty to me is duly noted.”

“The Horde embraced and supported my people when no one else would,” Lor’themar replied. “I will not forget that. And so, my loyalty, and that of my people, is to the Horde.”

Unease stirred in Garrosh as he noticed a slight emphasis on Lor’themar’s last word. “I am the Horde’s warchief, Lor’themar. And as such, I
am
the Horde.”

“You are its warchief,” Lor’themar said, agreeing readily. “Is that all you wish of me? My people are anxious to return home and prepare for the war that is to come.”

“Of course,” Garrosh said. “You may go.”

Lor’themar had said nothing inflammatory, but the unease did not dissipate as Garrosh regarded the sea of red and gold move toward the gates of Orgrimmar.

“That one is worth watching,” he said to Malkorok.

“They are
all
worth watching,” the Blackrock orc replied.

“I
recognize that dirty cloak,” the image of Prince Anduin Wrynn said, grinning.

Lady Jaina Proudmoore returned the smile. She and her “nephew,” firmly related by affection if not blood, were conversing by means of an enchanted mirror Jaina kept carefully hidden behind a bookcase. When the proper spell was recited, the reflection of each respective room would vanish, and what had been a simple mirror would become instead a window. It was a variation on the spell that allowed magi to transport themselves and others from one site to another.

Anduin had once shown up unexpectedly when Jaina was returning from one of her secret visits with then-warchief Thrall. Clever lad that he was, the prince had figured out what she had been up to, and now they shared a secret.

“Never could fool you,” Jaina said. “How goes your time among the draenei?” She could guess some of what he would tell her without waiting to hear the answer. Anduin had grown—not just physically. Even in the mirror, which rendered him in a palette of blues, she could see that his jaw was more determined, and his eyes were calmer and wiser.

“It’s been truly amazing, Aunt Jaina,” he said. “There is so much going on in the world that I want to be part of right now, but I know I have to stay here. I’m learning something new almost every single day. It kills me that I can’t help, but—”

“It is the destiny of others to buy us a future for you to grow up in,
Anduin,” Jaina said. “It is
your
destiny to do precisely that—and do so well. Keep studying. Keep learning. You’re right. You’re exactly where you need to be.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and suddenly looked very young again. “I know,” he said, sighing. “I
do
know that. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

“There will come a time when you will long for these simpler, quieter days,” Jaina said. Briefly her mind went back to her own youth. Loved by her father and brother, safe with her governess and tutors, Jaina had been filled with the joy of learning and the duties of a young lady, despite the military nature of her family. She had chafed against such things then, but now they seemed sweet and delicate as a flower’s petals.

Anduin rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Give Thrall my best,” he said.

“I’m sure that’s hardly prudent,” Jaina replied, but she smiled as she said it. She lifted the cloak’s hood over her golden hair. “Be well, Anduin. It’s good to hear how you are doing.”

“I will, Aunt Jaina. You be careful.” His image vanished. Jaina, who had been tying the hood down tight, paused in mid-motion.
You be careful.
He was, indeed, growing up.

As she had so many times before, she set out alone, taking care, as Anduin had asked, that she was not observed by anyone. She paddled the dinghy to the southwest, navigating the small islands of the area known as Tidefury Cove. The occasional muckshell clacked at her in annoyance, but otherwise the waterways were undisturbed.

Jaina pulled up to the meeting place, surprised to see that Thrall wasn’t present. She felt slightly uneasy. So much had changed. He had given leadership of the Horde to Garrosh. The world had cracked open like an egg, never to be the same again. And a great evil that had burned with hate and madness had rampaged across Azeroth to, finally, be defeated.

The wind shifted, caressing her face and blowing the hood off despite the fact that she had tied it securely beneath her chin. Her cloak billowed back from her slender frame, and suddenly Jaina smiled. The
wind was warm and smelled of apple blossoms, and before she quite realized what happened, it had lifted her out of the dinghy like a large, gentle hand. She did not struggle; she knew she was perfectly safe. Cradling her, the wind deposited her on the shore with the same care it had displayed when picking her up. Not a drop of muddy water had touched so much as the toe of her boot.

He stepped out from his place of concealment behind a rock, and Jaina realized she still hadn’t grown used to his new appearance. Instead of armor, Thrall, son of Durotan, wore simple robes. Red prayer beads encircled his throat. His large head with black hair was covered by a plain hood. The robes revealed part of his powerful green chest, and his arms were bare. He was indeed a shaman now, not a warchief. Only the Doomhammer, strapped to his back, was familiar to her.

He held out his hands, and Jaina took them.

“Lady Proudmoore,” he said, his blue eyes warm with welcome. “Long has it been since we met so.”

“Long indeed, Thrall,” she said in agreement. “Perhaps too long.”

“I am Go’el,” he said, reminding her gently. Slightly chagrined, she nodded.

“My apologies. Go’el it shall be.” She looked around. “Where is Eitrigg?”

“He is with the warchief,” Go’el said. “While I now am leader of the Earthen Ring, I serve humbly. I do not think of myself as greater than any other member.”

A hint of an amused smile quirked her mouth. “Many would consider you much more than a simple shaman,” she said. “I among them. Or are the tales that you allied with four Dragon Aspects to help bring down Deathwing just stories?”

“It was an honor, and a humbling one, to so serve,” Go’el said. Coming from anyone else, the words would have been simple politeness. Jaina knew them to be true. “I merely held the space for the Earth-Warder. It was all of us, working together—dragons and brave representatives of every race of this world. The credit for slaying the great monster goes to many.”

Her eyes searched his. “You are content with
all
your decisions, then.”

“I am,” he said. “If I had not left to join the Earthen Ring, I would not have been prepared to undertake the task that was asked of me.”

She thought of Anduin and his training, which was taking him far away from family and loved ones. “
There is so much going on in the world that I want to be part of right now, but I know I have to stay here. I’m learning something new almost every single day.”

And she had told him he was exactly where he needed to be. Now Go’el was saying the same thing. Part of her agreed with him. Surely the world was much better off without the ravages and terrorizing of Deathwing and the Twilight Cult! And yet…

“Nothing is free, Go’el,” she said. “Your knowledge and skills were bought at a cost. The… orc you left behind in your place had done much harm in your absence. If I have heard about what is going on in Orgrimmar and Ashenvale, surely you must have!”

His mien, which had been deeply peaceful, now looked troubled. “I have heard, of course.”

“And… you do nothing?”

“I have another path,” Go’el said. “You have seen the results of that path. A threat that—”

“Go’el, I hear this, but now that task is over. Garrosh is stirring up trouble between the Alliance and the Horde—trouble that didn’t exist until he started it. I can understand if you don’t wish to undermine him publicly, but—perhaps you and I can work together. Form a summit of sorts. Ask Baine to join us; I know he has no love for what Garrosh is striving for. I could speak with Varian. As of late, he seems to be more reachable. Everyone respects you, even in the Alliance, Go’el. You have earned that respect because of your actions. Garrosh has earned nothing but mistrust and hatred because of his.”

She indicated her cloak, which Go’el had blown about with the wind he had sent to bear her to shore. “You can control the winds as a shaman. But the winds of war are blowing, and if we do not stop Garrosh now, many innocents will pay the price for our hesitation.”

“I know what Garrosh has done,” Go’el said. “But I also know what
the Alliance has done. There are innocents, yes, but even you cannot place the blame for the current tensions squarely at Garrosh’s feet. Not all the attacks have been initiated by the Horde. It does not seem to me that the Alliance is working particularly hard to find peace either.”

His voice was still calm but held a warning note. Jaina winced—not at the tone of voice, but at the truth of what was said. “I know,” she said heavily. She dropped down despondently on a rock jutting up from the soil. “There are times when I feel as if my words fall on deaf ears. The only one who seems to be truly interested in forging a lasting peace is Anduin Wrynn—and he’s just fourteen.”

“That is not too young to care about his world.”

“But it is too young to
do
anything about it,” Jaina said. “It seems as if I am struggling through mud simply to be heard, let alone actually listened to. It’s… difficult to try to be a diplomat and work for real, solid results when the other side won’t acknowledge reason anymore. I feel like a crow cawing in the field. I wonder if it’s just wasted breath.”

She was surprised at the frankness and weariness in the words. Where had they come from? Jaina realized that she truly had no one to talk to, to express doubts to anymore. Anduin looked up to her as a role model, so she couldn’t explain how disheartened she felt at times, and Varian and the other Alliance leaders were—most of them—firmly on the opposite side of any argument she made. Only Thrall—Go’el—seemed to understand, and even he appeared at the moment to be denying how much his decision to appoint Garrosh as warchief of the Horde could cost.

Jaina gazed down at her hands, the words pouring out of her, uncensored. “The world’s changed so much, Go’el. Everything’s changed. Every
one
’s changed.”

“Everyone and everything
does
change, Jaina,” Go’el said quietly. “It’s the nature of things to grow, to become something they were not. The seed becomes the tree, the bud the fruit, the—”

“I know that,” Jaina snapped. “But you know what doesn’t change? Hatred. Hatred and the hunger for power. People get an idea or a plan that works in their favor, and they dig in and won’t let it go. They won’t see what’s right in front of them if it contradicts what they want. And
the words of reason, of peace, just don’t seem to be effective against that anymore.”

Go’el raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you are right,” he said noncommittally. “We must all choose our own paths. Maybe there is something else you should focus on.”

She gave him a stunned look. “This world has already been torn apart. Do you truly think I should stop trying to prevent its inhabitants from tearing
themselves
apart?”