Christie Golden - Jaina Proudmoore - Tides of War

By the time Varian reached the shore, lithely leaping out of the boat, Kalecgos had landed and transformed into his bipedal form. Jaina stood beside him. Varian strode up to both of them and offered his hand to each in turn.

“Twice today, the two of you have helped save the Alliance,” he said. “We have regained a lost foothold in Kalimdor.”

“I am glad to have been of help,” Jaina said simply. “What now?”

“Something Garrosh will know to expect,” Varian said, giving her a wicked grin. Jaina looked confused. “I’ve made no secret that I intend to bring the fleet to the various blockades. After the trouncing they’ve just received, and the loss of Northwatch, Garrosh is going to pull in tight. Which means we’ll get our ports back without further loss of Alliance life.” He sobered. “We took a beating ourselves,” he said. “Those kraken would have wiped out the fleet if you hadn’t arrived in time. And with Theramore, Northwatch, and the fleet destroyed…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think what would have happened to the Alliance.”

Now Jaina looked uncomfortable. “About some of the things I said to you and Anduin…,” she said, but Varian held up a hand.

“I am,” he said wryly, “perhaps the absolute last person to stand in judgment of behavior stemming from anger or a desire for revenge. And Anduin has been praying for you. I will be glad to tell him his prayers have been answered.”

“Thank you,” Jaina said sincerely.

“And you? What is next for you?” Varian inquired. He looked at both of them, and Kalec turned to Jaina.

“Theramore,” she said quietly.

Varian nodded. “When we’re done cleaning up here, I’ll send a ship to Theramore. To… take care of things.”

Jaina simply nodded. “I would be grateful. They deserve no less.” She looked up at Kalecgos. “Let’s go.”

Garrosh saw the Alliance standard snapping in the breeze over Northwatch even as he pushed his laboring wolf to get there in time. Furious, he yanked his wolf to a halt, threw back his head, and screamed his fury. Wisely, Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin did not attempt to calm him down.

“How could this happen ?” demanded Garrosh, his small goldenbrown eyes staring at each of them. “We had every advantage! I destroyed Theramore to break their spirits. I trapped their people in blockades. I sent molten giants and even monsters of the deep after them, and still this happens!”

One of Baine’s Longwalkers approached at a swift lope, then slowed, clearly loath to be the proverbial bearer of bad tidings. Baine nodded that he should proceed. The wary tauren knelt in front of—but not too close to—Garrosh.

“Warchief, I bring news from Northwatch,” the Longwalker said.

“I can see the news from Northwatch,” Garrosh snapped, pointing at the blue-and-white standard in the distance.

The tauren continued. “There is further news, overheard by sharp ears.” Garrosh made a visible effort to calm himself and waved for the messenger to proceed. “Varian intends for the fleet to sail to break the blockade. There are still ample ships remaining for the Alliance to be a threat to our captured ports. Sources reporting in seem to confirm this intention.”

Garrosh leaped from his dire wolf, which actually darted back a step, ears flat. He reached for the Longwalker, grabbing him by the arm. “What sources?” he demanded.

“Garrosh,” said Baine, his voice heavy with warning, “release my Longwalker. He will better be able to speak if he does not fear being attacked for bringing the truth.”

The look that Garrosh shot Baine could have pierced armor, but the warchief saw the sense in this. He let go of the Longwalker’s arm. “What sources?” he repeated.

“Druids have flown from Bladefist Bay, reporting that the Alliance fleet is heading out to break the blockade.”

For a moment, Baine almost felt sorry for Garrosh. The orc’s fury turned to visible pain and he sagged, as if all the life and passion had suddenly been bled out of him. At last, he said to Malkorok, “Order a full retreat. In our state, we cannot risk a battle on multiple fronts.”

Malkorok’s face was carefully blank as he replied, “As my warchief commands.” He kicked his dire wolf and hurried off to speak with several other Kor’kron, who glanced back over their shoulders as Malkorok delivered the news.

“My thanks for your message,” Baine told the Longwalker. “Go and eat, and have your wounds tended to.” The other tauren bowed and gratefully left to obey. Baine turned to Garrosh. “I commend you, Warchief.”

Garrosh looked at him askance. “Why?”

“For recognizing the folly of this path. This war was ill advised, and I am pleased that you have turned from—”

“I have not ‘turned from’ anything, tauren, and you tread on dangerous ground,” Garrosh said warningly. “For someone with such large ears, you still manage to misunderstand what you hear. I do not intend to end this war. I intend to escalate it. This retreat is a regrouping, a reassessment of strategy—not a surrender to the ‘power’ of the Alliance!”

Baine attempted to hide his dismay. Beside him, Vol’jin did the same.

“We need to do more,” Garrosh said, turning away from Baine and pacing as he spoke, clenching and unclenching his hands. Malkorok finished his conversation and returned to stand at attention while Garrosh continued. “ More ships. More weapons. More elementals and beasts and demons obeying our commands. More soldiers need to be conscripted. Male, female, child—they can all contribute to the glory of the Horde.”

His spirits were obviously lifting now, and his eyes were distant, focusing on the future and not the present with its stark message of ruination and disaster. “I thought too small—that was the problem. This is no longer about taking over Kalimdor. It is about crushing the Alliance utterly! Wiping their filth off the face of Azeroth! Burning Stormwind to the ground, and Wrynn with it! A war not for control of a single continent, but for conquest of this very world. We can do this; we are the Horde! But victory will be ours only if our plans are sound, our wills focused, our hearts strong and true!”

“Garrosh Hellscream,” said Baine calmly, “I ride now for Mulgore with my braves. There are far fewer of them than when I rode out to answer the call of the warchief of the Horde. My loyalty to the Horde is deep, and you cannot gainsay me on that. But know this: I fight for the true Horde, not one that utilizes methods both unnecessary and shameful. There must never be another Theramore—not if you wish the aid of Baine Bloodhoof!”

Garrosh stared at Baine with narrowed eyes and a slight smirk that Baine could not interpret. “Duly noted,” he said.

As he gathered up the reins of his kodo, Baine glanced at Vol’jin. The troll looked at him sadly and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Baine nodded slightly. He understood Vol’jin’s reasoning. It was the same as Baine’s own—Vol’jin needed to protect his people from the wrath of an offended Garrosh.

A world war.

As Baine headed west, toward home and the serenity of the rolling plains of his beloved Mulgore, he could not decide if Garrosh was mad with power… or simply mad.

How long had it been, Jaina wondered, since her own personal cataclysm? She had lost count of the days, but surely they had not been many; a fortnight would be too long. Only a fortnight, less, since she had been fretting about Thrall’s disinterest in deposing Garrosh, the restlessness in her spirit. Since she had eaten delicious pastries with Kinndy, and her biggest worry had been the thought of her apprentice smudging books with frosting.