Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War (9 page)

“Hardly anyone did. And yes, Korialstrasz. He gave his life to save all of us, and at first, we thought him a traitor.”

“Including you and Alexstrasza?”

“We didn’t want it to, but doubt crept into even our hearts.” Kalec admitted this reluctantly. “And I have my own ghosts too, Jaina. One is a human girl. With,” he added, giving her a little nod, “fair hair and a great heart. She was… so much more than just a girl, though. She was something beautiful and profound and unspeakably powerful, but her time as a simple young woman infused that power with compassion and love.”

Jaina didn’t look at him. She knew of whom he spoke—Anveena, who had been the Sunwell incarnate. Jaina was familiar with what had happened to Anveena. The girl who was not a girl had sacrificed one form for her true one, and in doing so, sacrificed her life.

“Another is a dragon, lovely as ice and sunlight, who was intended to be my mate.” He seemed to recall Jaina’s presence and gave her a quick smile. “I don’t think you’d get along with her particularly well. She never understood my interest in the, ah…”

“Lesser races?”

“I’ve never called you that,” Kalec said, and for the first time, Jaina
saw a spark of anger in the blue dragon. “Those who are not dragons are not lesser. It took Tyrygosa a while to see that. You are simply… different from us. And maybe in some ways better than us.”

Jaina raised her golden brows. “How in the world can you possibly say that?”

He smiled. “Cheese and apples and scrolls,” he said. “And thus, you knew true, simple joy when you hadn’t even entered your second decade. That to me makes you… astonishing.”

I
t was not long before the explicit directives came. Baine hated what he was about to do, but if he refused, Garrosh would turn on him—and the tauren—with the full force of the rest of the Horde behind him. Baine harbored no illusions of the idealism of the Forsaken, the blood elves, or the goblins; they had their own agendas. The orcs were traditional friends to the tauren, but there were few malcontents. And the trolls simply couldn’t risk it. If the tauren defied Garrosh so blatantly as to refuse this order, they would stand alone.

Baine crushed the missive in his hand and turned a bleak expression to Hamuul Runetotem. “Let us prepare,” the high chieftain said. “At the very least, this part of the war Garrosh is getting us into has some scent of justice behind it.”

The orders had been clear. Baine was to bring “at least two dozen braves,” kodos, and weapons of war and approach Northwatch Hold from the west. The trolls would join them, though the trek from the Echo Isles to Mulgore was a long one. The orcs would be marching from Orgrimmar, and the Forsaken, the goblins, and the blood elves would take ships to meet them in the port town of Ratchet, and then they would all move swiftly to rendezvous with the tauren at Northwatch Hold.

Once, there had been only the dry land of the Barrens between Mulgore and Northwatch, and a little town called Camp Taurajo. Back then, the greatest problem had been fighting the quilboar. Now
Baine would need to march his people past the ruins of Taurajo and through what had become known as the Fields of Blood.

Following the orders he so disliked, Baine amassed his people on their side of the Great Gate as quietly as possible. They stood silently as instructed, the only sound the slight creaking of armor and the occasional stamp of a kodo. Baine could feel the tension; he marveled that the Alliance on the other side could not sense it as well. He had sent several scouts ahead, to make sure that the Alliance recon would be taken unawares, and they had all reported back that only a few kept watch at this hour. Two tauren, taking care not to be seen, ascended the viewing platforms and made their own longer-distance reconnaissance. They could see better than humans in the dark, and besides, the Alliance soldiers were often foolish enough to keep campfires burning.

“High Chieftain,” said one of the scouts, forcing his voice to be soft, “the trolls—the hills are thick with them. They only await your order.”

“The number of soldiers is no greater than usual, judging by the fires,” said another. “They are not expecting an attack.”

Baine’s heart ached at what he was about to do. “Report back to Vol’jin. Tell him his people may attack at will. Once they have engaged the Alliance, we will open the Great Gate and follow up with our own weapons.”

The scout nodded, turning and climbing up the hill at the juncture where the gate met it. Baine looked out over the assembled crowd of tauren, their shapes barely visible in the light of the few torches they bore. There were several dozen braves and many others who would serve vital purposes when the conflict came in but a few seconds: druids, shaman, healers, and other fighters of all kinds.

He lifted his arm, making sure that it was seen, and waited. His heart beat quickly: one, two, three—

And then came the blood-chilling war cries. The trolls had attacked. Baine snapped his arm down. From the other side of the gate were the clang of weaponry, the defiant shouts of humans and dwarves, and the thud of ballista arrows striking home. On this side of the gate, two
tauren grunted and strained, their massive bodies trembling with the effort, as the thick ropes were laboriously pulled and the gate groaned.

The Northwatch soldiers were taken completely by surprise. Tauren braves streamed through, bellowing and hurling themselves into the fray. The humans and dwarves didn’t stand a chance. They were vastly outnumbered by furred and green- and blue-skinned bodies, and their weapons, while dangerous, needed time to be directed and prepped. There was no time for anything but desperate and ill-fated resistance.

One foolish soldier charged Baine himself, crying, “For the Alliance!” His simple military-issue sword snapped as Baine swung his mace. The piece went flying, flashing brightly in the faint light, and then was swallowed up by darkness. Baine swung again. The soldier’s chain-mail armor offered no protection from the blunt instrument. The body hurtled a distance away from the force of the blow.

There were a few more shouts from tauren and trolls, and then the clang of weaponry ceased.

“Trolls, hold!” Vol’jin ordered.

“Tauren, to me!” Baine shouted.

There was a pause, and then whoops of triumph filled the night air. Baine looked around. It was over, mere moments after it had started.

“Dis bodes well for de attack,” Vol’jin said.

Baine shook his head. “Not if any Alliance escaped. Under the cloak of night, they could warn Northwatch Hold.”

“Den we best be about gettin’ ta Nort’watch.”

They took a moment to select a few scouts to go ahead and report back as the rest of the troll-and-tauren army regrouped and began the march east toward Northwatch. Vol’jin pulled his raptor up alongside Baine’s kodo as they went.

“After we left Orgrimmar,” Vol’jin said, “some of da orcs dat were noddin’ dey heads when ol’ Eitrigg was talkin’ been kinda… absent.”

Baine felt a jolt surge through him. “Garrosh is
executing
those who don’t agree with him?”

“Not yet. Dem Kor’kron, especially dat gray-skinned one, they be walkin’ tru da streets jest waitin’ to overhear somethin’ they doan
like. If they do—well, some dey arrest right on da spot. Some dey come for all quiet. Dat mushroom seller, he close shop for a few days. He come back lookin’ all beat-up, like he be in da wrong end of a fight. And some… dey doan come back at all.”

“Political prisoners?”

Vol’jin nodded. “We trolls be keepin’ our mouths shut.”

Baine grunted. “Perhaps if Garrosh knew what the Kor’kron are up to… He is a hothead, but… surely he cannot be ordering this.”

Vol’jin made a dismissive sound and waved a gangly arm in disgust. “No one gets to Garrosh. I hear dat even Eitrigg only sees him when Garrosh feels like it, and den dat boy surrounded by his big ol’ bodyguards. He be all, ‘Da Horde can do dis; da Horde can do dat.’ All confident, wit’out any reason for it. I can’t say for certain dat he knows what’s goin’ on. But I can’t say for certain dat he don’t. Either way… I be more scared of Orgrimmar these days dan de darkest voodoo.”

“Then… there is no stopping him. No reaching him, no reasoning. And insanity abounds.”

“Dat’s about da size of it, mon.”

Baine growled softly, looking over his troops. An idea was forming. It was audacious; it was risky; and it might cost him dearly.

But it might save the tauren people.

It might even save the Horde.

•   •   •

“Why can’t we find anything?”

The words burst as if of their own volition from Jaina, and she wished them back as soon as she had uttered them. Kalec, Tervosh, and Kinndy—who had returned from Dalaran with two entire trunks full of scrolls, magical items, and books that the Kirin Tor thought might help—all looked up from their various studies and stared at her.

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m… usually not like this.”

Tervosh gave her a kind smile. “No, Lady, you’re not,” he said. “But then again, this is hardly a usual situation.”

Normally, she was both idealist and pragmatist. “Practical” was what Arthas had dubbed her. The combination was part of what made
her such a skilled mage. Her curious mind worked methodically around a problem until it was solved. It served her well in diplomatic endeavors too. While she cared deeply about the outcome of what she worked toward, she also
worked
toward it. She didn’t just stomp her foot or weep or say whiny things like
Why can’t we find anything?

“The archmage is correct,” Kalecgos said. “We’re all under a lot of strain. Perhaps we should take a brief respite.”

“We broke for lunch,” Kinndy said.

“Four hours ago,” Kalec reminded her. “Since then, we’ve not stretched or moved or done anything but stare at books. We may have lost the ability to even spot something if we do come across it.”

Jaina rubbed her aching eyes. “I apologize again. Kalec may have hit on the very reason for, uh, why we haven’t found anything.” She put a little extra emphasis on the words to let them all know that she was fully aware of how she had sounded.

“I don’t think—” Kinndy began.

“You’re young,” Tervosh said. “You can go forever. We old folks need our little breaks. You’re welcome to stay here and keep perusing the documents, Kinndy, but I’m going to go and work in the garden for a bit. There are some herbs that need harvesting.”

He rose and pressed his hands to his back. There was an audible crack. Jaina knew she, too, would creak as she rose after sitting in one position for too long. She and Tervosh were not, as he had joked, “old folks,” but the seemingly endless energy of her youth, which had sustained her through her ordeals with the plague and the war with demons, appeared to elude her now that she had reached thirty.

“Care to show me around?” asked Kalec, interrupting her thoughts.

She started. “Oh! Yes, of course!” She rose, attempting to cover her embarrassment at being caught woolgathering. “I am very proud of the order and harmony we have here in Theramore. The Cataclysm damaged the city, but we rebuilt with a will.”

They descended the long, winding stairs of Jaina’s tower and stepped out into a surprisingly sunny day. Jaina nodded to the guards, who saluted smartly, and to the mounted lieutenant Aden. Kalecgos looked about with open interest.

“Over there is Foothold Citadel,” Jaina said. There was a training area on their right as they walked by where Theramore’s guards “fought” against practice dummies, their swords thunking against wood. Coming from their left, however, were the bright sounds of steel clashing against steel as the young recruits trained in the open air. Their commanders barked orders while priests watched carefully, ready to call upon the Light for healing the instant anyone was injured.

“It’s… rather martial,” Kalec observed.

“We’re at the entrance to a very dangerous swamp on one side and the ocean on the other,” Jaina said. They continued to walk, turning away from the practicing warriors and passing the inn. “We’ve got a lot to protect against.”

“The Horde, obviously.”

She gave him a look. “We
are
the most martial Alliance presence on the continent, but honestly, the majority of the danger comes from the wildlife and various unsavory characters.”

Kalec put a hand to his chest and widened his eyes in feigned shock and hurt. Jaina smiled. “Don’t worry. The only dragons I take issue with are the black dragons in the swamp,” she said. “The Horde seems to keep to itself, as long as we do. And that’s an arrangement I can live with, although there are many who don’t understand that.”

“Is the Alliance pressing for war?” Kalec asked quietly. Jaina grimaced.

“Ah, now you have found a sore spot,” she said. “We’ll discuss that later. How are your blues faring, Kalec? Most magi may resent them, as Kinndy did, but I know you have undergone a great deal. First the Nexus War, then finding and losing an Aspect, then this theft—”

“Now
you
have found a sore spot,” Kalec said, but his voice was kind.

“My apologies,” Jaina said. Their path was leading them out of the city, the cobblestones becoming less well tended and slightly muddy. “I meant no offense. And here I am, supposed to be a diplomat.”