Christie Golden - War Crimes

That, at last, seemed to silence Garrosh. He simply stood, looking at Saurfang with a mixture of revulsion and pity. Saurfang shook himself, and when he turned to speak with Garrosh again, his voice was strong and firm.

“I won’t let you take us down that dark path again, young Hellscream. I’ll kill you myself before that day comes.”

That was doubtless the gem Tyrande had been waiting for. A great war hero threatening to kill Garrosh before he’d let the impetuous youth plunge the orcs into another devastating war for no true reason.

The image of Garrosh replied, and Baine was startled at the change in the young orc. He spoke in a quiet tone of respect and almost wonderment.

“How have you managed to survive for so long, Saurfang? Not fallen victim to your own memories?”

Saurfang smiled. “I don’t eat pork.”

“Pause.” The scene froze, and Tyrande let it linger there, etching itself on the minds of the jury and the onlookers, then nodded to Chromie. The scene vanished. Tyrande turned to Saurfang and gave a slight, sincere bow. “Thank you, High Overlord. Chu’shao—your witness.”

Baine nodded, and he walked toward Saurfang. “High Overlord, I will keep this brief, so that you may spend no more time in that chair than necessary. You spoke of killing Garrosh before you let him lead the orcs down that dark path.”

“I did.”

“Was that a figure of speech?”

“It was not.”

“You would actually kill Garrosh with your own hands?”

“Yes.”

“And do you believe he has done so? Led the orcs down that dark path?”

“Yes. That is why I took up arms against him. After some of the things he did—” The old orc shook his head, disgusted, and gave Garrosh a venomous look.

“So you would be happy with the verdict that Chu’shao Whisperwind advocates—execution.”

“No.”

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom, but Baine felt quiet pleasure. He had been right about Varok. He allowed himself a brief glance at Tyrande and saw the kaldorei sitting up and watching attentively, hoping for some misstep. Baine intended to give her none.

“What would you like to see?”

Tyrande leaped to her feet. “With respect, I protest! The witness’s personal preference is irrelevant.”

“Fa’shua, I am attempting to clarify what the high overlord meant when he said, ‘I’ll kill you myself.’ ”

“I agree with the Defender,” said Taran Zhu. “You may answer the question, High Overlord Saurfang.”

Saurfang did not do so immediately. He gave Garrosh a long, appraising look, then spoke. “Garrosh was not always as you see him now. He was, as I have said, reckless and impulsive. But I once would never have doubted his loyalty to the Horde. And even now, I do not doubt his loyalty to his people. But his crimes must be addressed. I vowed to kill him, and I would still uphold that vow. But I would not surrender him to others for execution. I would challenge him myself, in the mak’gora.”

“Do you think he deserves a second chance?”

“If he defeated me—yes. That is the way of the orcs—the true way. Honor.”

Baine could barely believe what he was hearing. “I do not wish to misunderstand you, so forgive my repetition. You do not want Garrosh executed by this court, but rather wish to challenge him in honorable combat. And if he won that combat, you would see him forgiven?”

“He would need to earn his reputation back, given that he has ripped it to shreds and trampled it into the angry earth,” Saurfang snapped. “But yes. If he were a victor, then he should have that chance. He had honor, once. He could learn it again.”

Baine could barely refrain from letting out a shout of delight. This, he understood. This, he could support, and moreover, it was fair. He thought of his father, dying in the mak’gora, and how Cairne would have approved, and knew in his heart he was on the proper track. Despite his anger toward Garrosh, Baine was in truth doing the right thing.

He gave Tyrande a triumphant look and announced, “I have no further questions.”

And to his surprised pleasure, neither did Tyrande. When Taran Zhu sounded the gong to close the opening day of proceedings, for the first time since the trial had begun, it looked like Garrosh Hellscream might just, quite literally, keep his head.

Most would have assumed, when Shokia turned up in Hammerfall, that she was so disheartened at the fall of Garrosh Hellscream that she wanted to return to orcish roots. To come here—where Orgrim Doomhammer, another great warchief, had been killed—and vanish into obscurity, contenting herself with putting her astonishing sniper skills to work slaughtering enemy trolls and Alliance adventurers. Those who assumed that would be wrong, but it was a façade Shokia was happy to maintain. She was not retreating to lick wounds and mourn failure. She was an agent of someone who wanted what she did—a return to the glory of the Horde. Shokia was in deep cover.

Hammerfall had become an unofficial refuge for discontents who felt they had no place in the current world, and so her story was not questioned. And she had been content to wait for her orders, enjoying watching the heads of her enemies explode like thrown pumpkins through her scope.

Since the trial of Garrosh Hellscream had begun in Pandaria, however, she had grown anxious. When would her ally summon her to the field of battle? What would his instructions be? Who else shared their feelings?

“Wait for me to send you orders ,” he had said in that silky voice. “ I will not fail to do so, but only when the time is right.”

So when Adegwa, the tauren innkeeper, let her know there was a letter for her, she was hard put to contain her delight.

No doubt, your fingers itch to fire at our enemies. But first, you must accumulate allies. What follows is a list of those who will be helpful. Seek them out, and when you are gathered, I will send you further instructions.

Meet the first one today, in Drywhisker Gorge.

Shokia had packed her precious rifle, her few other belongings, mounted her wolf, and was at the gorge a scant five minutes later. She took up a position overlooking the trail, peering through the scope of her rifle, but did not have long to wait.

A black wolf, his pelt sleek and glossy, came into view. His rider crouched low over his back. The cloak hid her face, but billowed out sufficiently for Shokia to determine that her new comrade in arms was another orc female. Slowly, Shokia began to grin. She wondered if . . . She would find out soon enough.

The rider slowed, and the wolf began to pick his way up the trail. Without revealing her position behind a boulder, Shokia cried out, “Hail, wolf rider! Are you a friend of the dragon’s?”

The orc came to a halt and shoved back her hood, revealing her strong face. “Under most circumstances, I am no friend to dragons,” Zaela, warlord of the Dragonmaw, called back. “But this time—yes.”

“Zaela! I had heard you had fallen in battle!”

“I fell, indeed, but I lived to keep fighting for our true leader. I came alone, as instructed, but what remains of my clan is ready for battle.”

“Then,” said Shokia, lifting the scroll, “let us gather more allies!”

“I summon His Royal Highness Anduin Wrynn, prince of Stormwind, to speak as witness.”

Anduin had been dreading this moment. He’d always resented SI:7’s code name for him, “the White Pawn,” and had no desire to become involved in this case in any fashion, fearing that both sides would use him thus. His father had known, of course, but Jaina hadn’t, and she looked surprised and a little concerned as Varian gave his son’s arm a squeeze and Anduin then descended from the stands to the witness chair.