Christie Golden: War Crimes

Chi-Ji, the Red Crane, bringer of hope, had assumed the appearance of a slender, thin-boned blood elf. His long hair was a shade of fiery red, and what Baine had taken for a golden cape proved to be folded wings. Xuen, the White Tiger, whose temple this was, embodied controlled strength in the fluid movement of his pale blue human body, his hair and skin streaked with black and white stripes. Baine was honored to see that the indomitable Black Ox, Niuzao, had chosen to appear to mortal eyes as a tauren. He moved his white head as he surveyed the visitors with radiant blue eyes, every clop of his glowing hooves seeming to echo. The wise Jade Serpent, Yu’lon, had taken what initially struck Baine as the most peculiar incarnation of all—that of a pandaren cub. Even as he thought this, Yu’lon’s magenta eyes found his, and she smiled. It was true wisdom, he realized, to appear so gentle and appealing that all would want to come to her.

The four celestials made their way to the north, where Xuen normally sat holding audience. Baine felt calmness and clarity that had been missing descend upon him. He exhaled, closing his eyes briefly in gratitude simply for their presence.

Everyone was still, waiting eagerly for word.

But the celestials did not speak. Instead, they turned to look expectantly at a figure that had just entered the temple.

He wore dark leather armor, and an image of a snarling white tiger adorned his right shoulder. A wide hat and a red cloth across the lower part of his face would have concealed his identity had not everyone present known whom to expect. Taran Zhu, leader of the Shado-pan monks, bowed awkwardly, grimacing slightly, and approached the center circle with a supple stride that belied his age and his rotundity. He bowed again, once to each of the mighty, silent beings, then regarded those gathered.

“Welcome,” he said. “Today, I speak for the celestials, and I say to you, we receive you with grateful and humble hearts. I would ask you all to take a moment and acknowledge this sight, never before seen in this world. All those who serve as leaders in the Horde, and all those who speak for the peoples of the Alliance, are gathered here today. No one among you carries a weapon, and I have instructed that a dampening field be put in place to prevent any untoward use of magic—even the summoning of what you call the Light. All of you are here for a united purpose, just as you have joined together for greater purposes before. Please—for a few breaths, look at your dear friends, and your honorable enemies.”

Baine looked first to Anduin, a face he knew would not be twisted in hate. His eyes moved to the stern visages of the dwarves, the furry mien of Genn Greymane. Vereesa looked as if she was clenching her teeth as well as her small, strong fists, and he wondered if Jaina knew how easily her own unhappiness and resentment could be seen. As the minute of reflection stretched on, Baine saw some tense features relax; others seemed to grow more impatient. On both sides.

Taran Zhu continued. “Below us, in a prison well guarded, resides the one whose fate you have come here to learn: Garrosh Hellscream.”

Baine swallowed, straining for the words. He could feel the tension in the air, smell the anger and fear and anxiety. But the placid monk would not be rushed.

“You were told that Garrosh Hellscream’s fate would be decided today. This is completely true. The celestials do not lie. But neither have they revealed everything to you. After much discussion and meditation, they have come to the conclusion that Hellscream should not be tried solely by them. All have suffered because of Hellscream, not just Pandaria, although its people suffered indeed.” He placed his paw on his midsection, where Gorehowl had bitten deeply not long ago. “Therefore, you deserve to be involved. His guilt is beyond question, but we will hold a fair and open trial to determine his fate, one that both Horde and Alliance will conduct, with the possibility of a reduced sentence—perhaps even liberty.”

Uproar.

Baine couldn’t decide who was shouting more loudly, the Horde or the Alliance.

“Trial? He bragged about what he had done!”

“He deserves death! He has brought it to so many!”

“Let’s put all the Horde on trial!”

“We know what he’s done! The whole world knows it!”

Xuen’s eyes narrowed slightly and his voice rang out, bell pure and sword sharp. “ There will be s ilence in my temple! ”

He was obeyed. Satisfied, he nodded to Zhu to continue.

“The August Celestials do not disagree that Garrosh Hellscream is guilty of terrible, grievous acts. I repeat—that he committed crimes is not in dispute. What must be decided now, however, is the manner in which these crimes are to be addressed. It is not that he must be accountable. It is how . And the only way to do this is through a trial. In this way, you, Horde and Alliance both, and any other voices who have aught to say will have a chance to be heard.”

“And yet the celestials will still be judge, jury, and executioner, will they not?” This came from Lor’themar Theron. Baine had no doubt that the blood elf’s ability to “work together” had been tested to the limit.

“No, friend Lor’themar,” said Taran Zhu. “The celestials have indeed offered to be the jury, but are amenable to other ideas. I would be honored to serve as fa’shua—as judge. The celestials are wise beings, and wish true justice, and I have come to know many of you who stand before me now. Duly elected representatives from the Alliance and the Horde shall serve as Accuser and Defender, according to ancient Pandaren law.”

“He is already guilty—you said so yourself,” said Vereesa. “How can there be a Defender and an Accuser then?”

“The Defender will argue for a more merciful sentence. The Accuser, of course, will argue for a more stringent one. You may select whom you will, and the other side has one veto.”

“I personally veto these entire proceedings!” snapped Genn Greymane. “Garrosh Hellscream led the Horde against our people and slaughtered them like a butcher. If we agree to have a trial, let’s have a real one, for every leader in the Horde. At best, they stood by and let it happen; at worst, they joined in or”—and here he shot Sylvanas a venomous look—“even instigated their own attacks!” A chorus of angry agreement arose. Baine was sorry to see that Jaina appeared to be among the dissent.

“That would take quite awhile,” said Taran Zhu calmly, “and not all of us have long lives.”

“The Alliance,” spat Gallywix, “shouldn’t be involved at all . Garrosh should be tried by his peers, to ensure he makes proper compensation to those of us he wronged.”

Mekkatorque laughed without humor. “Monetary compensation, you mean!”

“That would be an acceptable form, yes,” said Gallywix.

Taran Zhu sighed and raised his paws for silence. “The leaders of the Horde and Alliance must decide. Are the terms as I have presented them agreeable to you, Warchief Vol’jin, and you, King Varian Wrynn?”

Troll and human regarded one another for a moment; then Vol’jin nodded. “Celestials seem to have a better view on things like this than us who be down in the middle of it, and you be honorable, Taran Zhu. I prefer to be getting a voice and not having a decision just handed out. Horde agrees.”

“So does the Alliance,” said Varian at once.

“You will be taken to a place where you may choose your Defender and Accuser,” replied Taran Zhu. “Remember—one veto only for each side. Choose wisely and well.”

Ji Firepaw, who had been standing off to the side, now approached Vol’jin and bowed deeply. “I will take you to one of the side temples, where there will be braziers.” His broad, furred face split in a grin and his eyes twinkled. “And refreshment.”