The Shattering Page 14

  “No, it wouldna be Varian’s way either,” Magni agreed. “Now, the scholars have agreed that it should work right here in Ironforge. I’ll just need tae go as deep as I can, right tae the heart o’ the earth.” He smiled a little at Anduin. “Not everyone knows about th’ secret places, but I think ye can be trusted. Ye’ve th’ stout heart o’ one of our own, lad, even though ye’re reed thin an’ far too delicate, bein’ a human stripling.”

  Anduin found himself smiling a little, something that two days ago he wondered if he’d ever be able to do. Aerin would be the first to chide him for being such a sad fellow, he knew. “Aerin promised to dwarf-temper me,” he said, his voice catching a little, but still surprisingly light.

  “Ah,” Magni said, giving him a smile tinged with sorrow. “I’d say she did, from what I see before me.”

  Anduin swallowed again.

  “Now,” Magni said, “I’ve sent for some herbalists tae gather th’ necessary ingredients. All should be ready tae do this tomorrow morning.”

  “So soon?”

  “Aye, the sooner the better, I think. Azeroth had better start talking tae me, so that I can do what I can to take care of it. Do ye not agree?”

  Anduin nodded. Light alone knew if there would be any more aftershocks.

  Anduin started to head back to his rooms, but instead found his feet taking him to the Hall of Mysteries. He had avoided it for the past two days. For some reason he didn’t want to see Rohan again. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he felt he had failed the high priest in the effort to save lives. Maybe because of how angry he had been at Rohan when he had tried to urge Anduin to come away from the wreckage. But now he stood before the hall, took a deep breath, and went inside. At once, as always, the Light offered comfort. Even so, he still did not wish to speak with anyone, and ascended to the upper level where there were fewer people. At one point he heard a soft voice and winced slightly as he recognized it as Rohan’s. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed, hoping that the dwarf wouldn’t notice him. He heard the tread of feet approach and then fall silent, and a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.

  Anduin did not reply, but felt a gentle warmth stealing through him. Softly, Rohan said, “Ye’re a good lad, Anduin Llane Wrynn. Ye’ve a good heart. Know that even if it breaks, it will mend again.”

  And as the dwarf withdrew, Anduin realized that there had been no magic performed on him at all. And yet he felt better.

  Healing, it would seem, took many forms.

  * * *

  When he returned to his rooms, he found Wyll waiting with a note from Magni asking Anduin to come to his quarters. Anduin was confused but immediately went.

  Magni was waiting for him. The room in which he greeted Anduin was surprisingly small and cozy, very dwarven in its snug feeling, unlike the large, airy, human rooms. A brazier burned cheerily, and the table was piled with simple but hearty fare. Anduin’s stomach growled quite audibly, and he realized he hadn’t eaten for several hours. Ever since Aerin’s … death, he had not had much of an appetite, but now, looking at the assortment of roast meats, fruits, breads, and cheeses displayed on the table, it seemed to return with a vengeance. Life, it would appear, did go on. The body had needs that had to be satisfied, even if, as Rohan said, one’s heart was broken.

  “There ye are, lad,” Magni greeted him. “Pull up a chair and dive right in.” His own plate was already piled high, and Anduin did as he was bid, enjoying the roast lamb, Dalaran sharp, and grapes.

  “I wanted tae have a few words wi’ ye afore the ritual on the morrow,” Magni said, reaching for his tankard and downing a big swig of ale. “Afore the earthquake, I had a wee chat with Aerin.”

  The food stuck in Anduin’s throat, and he reached for his own glass of juice to wash the suddenly tasteless food down.

  “She said she’d never seen anyone try harder at sparring, and she’s trained quite a few warriors. But … she also said the weapons weren’t yer friends. That ye dinna have a real feel fer them.”

  The human prince felt his face grow hot. Had he so greatly disappointed Aerin?

  “An, being the sharp lassie that she is … was … Aerin knew a born warrior when she saw one. And one that wasna born tae it.”

  The king took a bite of a crisp apple and chewed, watching Anduin’s reaction. The boy put down his knife and fork and simply waited to hear what Magni had to say. Something kind but dismissive, no doubt. Something to make it sound like Anduin hadn’t disappointed him.

  “I’ve also been talking wi’ Rohan,” Magni continued. “If ye can get past his terrible jokes, th’ fellow has a lot of wisdom. He couldna say enough about ye—how ye seemed tae thrive whenever ye visited. How ye felt compelled tae go to the aid of those who’d been harmed. How ye worked long past the time when ye should have dropped from exhaustion.” He took another long pull on the tankard, then set it down and turned to face Anduin with his whole body. “Lad … have ye ever considered that ye just might not be cut out fer the life of a warrior? And that there’s summat else that might be just exactly what ye’re supposed to be doing?”

  Anduin stared down at his plate. Given what Aerin had told him about how Magni wished that he had had a son, not a daughter, he wasn’t sure how criticism of his father would be received. Finally he just spoke simply and truthfully. “Father wishes me to be a warrior,” he said. “I’ve always known that in his heart, that’s what he wants for me.”

  Magni placed his hand on Anduin’s shoulder. “Och, he might want that, right enough, because it’s what he is. But yer father is a good man. In the end, he’ll want ye to do what’s right for ye, and fer the kingdom. There’s no shame in healing, lad, in loving th’ Light, in inspiring people and giving them hope. None at all. That’s looking out fer the good o’ yer kingdom just as much as fighting for it is.”

  Anduin felt a shiver run through him, but it was not unpleasant. Far from it; it was a shudder almost of … knowing. And it left in its wake a strange calmness and contentment. A priest. Someone who worked with the Light to do its work to heal, not harm, someone who inspired others by clearing their heads and asking them to give their best, rather than inflaming their darker emotions. He thought about the peace that always bathed him any time he entered the cathedral or the Mystic Ward here in Ironforge. A longing seized his soul for more of that. It felt almost like coming home to hear the dwarven king speak so. He looked at Magni, his eyes searching those of this powerful warrior and great king.

  “Do … do you really believe that?”

  “Aye, I do. And while we’ll find another arms trainer fer ye, I’d be right pleased tae see ye start talking seriously wi’ High Priest Rohan.”

  Anduin didn’t want another arms trainer. He wanted Aerin, cheerful and pragmatic and blunt. But he nodded. “I will, sir.”

  “Good!” They finished their meal, chatting quietly, and when the last grape had been popped into Anduin’s mouth and the last drop of ale had been consumed by Magni, the dwarf patted his belly and smiled at the human prince. “Now, then, we should both get some sleep. But afore then, I’ve got summat fer ye.”

  He slid out of the chair and trundled over to an old chest. Anduin followed, curious. The chest groaned in protest as Magni lifted the lid. Inside were several cloth-covered items whose shapes led Anduin to believe they were weapons. Magni selected one and lifted it out, carefully unwrapping it.

  It was indeed a weapon, a mace, gleaming as bright as the day it was made although it had to be quite old. The head was silver, wrapped in intersecting bands of gold that had runes etched into it. Small gems dotted it here and there. It was altogether a lovely and graceful thing of beauty and power.

  “This,” said Magni reverently, “is Fearbreaker. It is an old weapon, Anduin. Several hundred years. This was handed down through the Bronzebeard line. It’s seen battles in Outland and here in Azeroth. It’s known th’ taste o’ blood, and in certain hands, has been known tae also stanch blood. Here, take it. Ho
ld it in yer hand. Let’s see if it likes ye.” Magni winked.

  More than a little intimidated—the weapon was large for one so slight as he to wield—Anduin extended a hand and grasped the shaft of the mace. At once he felt a cool calmness spread from the weapon to his hand, and from there throughout his whole body. He found himself inhaling and letting the breath out as a sigh, found his body—tense for so long from effort and pain both emotional and physical—relaxing. Uncertainty and worry were not banished, not quite, but they receded through Fearbreaker’s touch of metal against skin.

  Just as he opened his mouth to comment on the sensation, he could have sworn the weapon … glowed, slightly.

  “As I suspected,” Magni said. “It does like ye.”

  “It’s … alive?”

  “Nay, nay, but, lad, ye know as well as I, as well as anyone who wields a weapon—they have their likes an’ their dislikes, same as people. They can be persnickety at times. I thought ye and Fearbreaker might be a good match. ’Tis yers.”

  Anduin gaped. “I—I couldn’t possibly—”

  “Oh, aye, ye can, an’ ye will. Fearbreaker has sat here fer some time now, waiting fer the right hand tae wield it. Ye may not be an armsman like yer father, but ye can fight the good fight. Fearbreaker proves it. Go on, lad. If ever a thing was meant fer someone, that weapon was meant fer ye.”

  Anduin blinked. He teared up quickly these days, but somehow, holding the beautifully wrought mace, he was not ashamed of the quick emotion as he had been. Fearbreaker. That was what Rohan had done for him when he had panicked—broken his fear. Called forth his best. “Thank you. I will treasure this.”

  “O’ course ye will. Now, off tae bed wi’ ye, lad. I’ve got a few last-minute things tae prepare, and then I’m tae bed meself. Got tae have a good night’s sleep if one is tae have long conversations with one’s world, eh?”

  Anduin laughed a little. He left Magni’s quarters not cheered or happy, but more reconciled to what had happened. He placed the precious weapon on the nightstand by his bed. In the darkness of the room after he had blown out the candles, it emitted a barely perceptible radiance, and as he drifted off to sleep, Anduin wondered if he was being silly to think that it might be watching over him.

  FIFTEEN

  Anduin realized that Magni’s compliment wasn’t an idle one. He was indeed the only human—indeed, the only person who wasn’t a dwarf or a gnome—present as those who would witness and participate in the ritual assembled in the High Seat. Magni had donned his most formal armor. Gone was the avuncular dwarf whom Anduin had become so fond of. Today Magni was fully embracing what he needed to be for his people, and he was every inch, short though it might seem to Anduin, a king. Anduin, too, had dressed in the finest clothes he had brought with him, but still felt a bit out of place. Fortunately, he knew many of the dwarves.

  One, though, was not present, and he missed her keenly. He wondered what she would have thought about this. Would Aerin have deemed it superstitious nonsense, or a practical method of finding out information? He would never know.

  Magni’s eyes swept the assembled gathering. There were not many—High Priest Rohan, several herbalists, High Explorer Magellas, and Advisor Belgrum from the Explorers’ League. “Would that me brothers were here,” Magni said quietly, “tae witness this. But there was no time tae notify them. Come, let us go. Each moment we linger distresses poor Azeroth th’ more.”

  Without another word he strode toward a large door toward the entrance of the High Seat. Anduin had noticed the door there before but had never asked about it, and no one had ever mentioned it. Magni nodded, and two attendants stepped forward bearing a huge iron skeleton key between the two of them. Another brought out a large ladder; the door was so gargantuan even the slightly taller Anduin would not have been able to reach the lock. The dwarves cautiously ascended and hefted the mammoth key into position. Working together, they twisted it. With a deep, protesting groan, the key turned and the lock yielded. The dwarves descended and moved the ladder out of the way.

  For a moment nothing happened, and then slowly the door magically swung open of its own accord toward the onlookers, revealing a yawning darkness.

  The two attendants who had opened the door had set aside the giant’s key and now moved ahead of the small procession, lighting sconces along the way as they went to reveal a simple descending corridor. The air was cool and moist, but not stale. Anduin realized that there must be huge open areas beneath Ironforge.

  They followed the corridor in silence as it led them ever downward. It was precise and linear; no twining path this, not for the dwarves. One of the attendants moved up ahead of them, and when they reached the end of the hallway, there was a brazier burning brightly ready to greet them. The hallway opened into a large cavern, and Anduin gasped.

  He’d been expecting the neat hallway, but what he saw startled him. Beneath his feet was a platform that branched out to two paths. One was a set of stairs, carpeted and surprisingly new looking, which led upward. Another path led downward, this one plain, unadorned stone. What took his breath away was what was on the walls and above.

  Clear, gleaming crystals jutted from the walls and ceiling. They caught the light of the brazier and the torches the attendants held, sparkling and seeming to radiate clean white illumination of their own, though Anduin knew that was but a trick of the imagination. Nonetheless, it was beautiful, this blending of the glories of the natural formations of this place and the simple lines of dwarven architecture.

  “The crystal—it’s so beautiful,” Anduin said softly to Rohan, who was walking next to him.

  The priest chuckled. “Crystals? Lad, these are no crystals. Ye’re looking at diamonds.”

  Anduin’s eyes widened, and his head whipped back up to regard the gleaming ceiling with new respect.

  Magni was purposefully striding up the stairs to a broad platform large enough to accommodate a group several times their size. He turned and nodded expectantly.

  “I think it no accident that right when we needed it, we have uncovered a tablet that contains information that might be of great help,” he said, his voice echoing in the cavern. “Nearly everyone present here today lost someone he or she loved dearly three days past. Reports come from all over Azeroth that summat is mightily wrong. The earth is wounded, an’ is shaking—cryin’ out fer aid. We are dwarves. We are of th’ earth. I have faith in the word of the earthen. I believe that what I do here—this rite that is unspeakably old—will let me heal this poor, hurtin’ world. By my blood an’ bone, by the earth an’ stone, let this be done.”

  The hair on the back of Anduin’s neck prickled. Even though Magni’s speech had been spontaneous, there was something about it that made his breath catch. He felt that just as he had descended into the heart of the earth, so he was about to descend into a ritual that was deep and unfathomable.

  Belgrum stepped forward, a scroll in his hand. Magellas stood beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. Beside these two stood Reyna Stonebranch, a dwarf herbalist, holding a crystal vial full of a murky-looking liquid. Belgrum cleared his throat and began to speak a strange language that sounded hard and blunt and made Anduin shiver. It seemed colder here now, somehow.

  After each phrase, Magellas translated for Anduin’s benefit. The young prince remembered Magni reading the same phrases to him just yesterday.

  “An’ here are the why an’ the how, tae again become one wi’ the mountain,” intoned Belgrum. “For behold, we are earthen, o’ the land, and its soul is ours, its pain is ours, its heartbeat is ours. We sing its song an’ weep fer its beauty. For who wouldna wish tae return home? That is the why, O children o’ the earth.”

  Home. Azeroth was truly home to all of them, Anduin thought as Belgrum continued with the specific directions on how to prepare the draft. Home wasn’t Stormwind, or even with his father, or Aunt Jaina. Home was this land, this world. Here they now stood, in the “heart of the earth,” embraced by diamonds and sto
ne that felt sheltering rather than oppressive. Magni was about to speak to the wounded Azeroth and find out best how to heal it. It was truly a noble goal.

  “Wi’ a finger’s pinch o’ the soil that nourished them, consume the draft. Speak these words wi’ true intent, an’ the mountain shall reply. And so it shall be that ye shall become as ye once were. Ye shall return home, and ye shall become one with the mountain.”

  Reyna now stepped forward, handing the muddy-looking elixir to Magni. Unhesitatingly the dwarven king took the transparent, slender vial, brought it to his lips, and drank it down. He wiped his lips and handed it back to Reyna.

  Magellas now handed him a scroll. With a bit more hesitation than Belgrum had displayed, Magni read aloud in the ancient language while Magellas translated.

  “Within me is th’ earth itself. We are one. I am o’ it and it o’ me. I listen fer th’ mountain’s reply.”

  Magni handed back the scroll, then spread his hands imploringly. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration.

  No one knew what to expect. Would the mountain suddenly begin to talk? If so, what would its voice be like? Would it speak only to Magni, and what would he hear? Could he speak to it? Would—

  Magni’s eyes flew open. They were wide with wonder, and his mouth curved in a soft smile. “I … I can hear …” He lifted his hands to his temples. “Th’ voices are in me head. Lots o’ ’em.” He chuckled softly, his expression one of stunned joy and triumph. “It’s not just one voice. It’s … dozens, maybe hundreds. All the voices o’ the earth!”

  Anduin shivered, his own lips curving in a smile. Magni had been right! He could hear the earth itself—themselves? It was so confusing!—speaking to him.

  “Can ye understand them?” asked Belgrum excitedly. “What are they saying?”

  Magni suddenly threw his head back, arching. He seemed to try to stagger backward, but his feet were held as if rooted in place. No, not rooted … Anduin realized his black boots were turning almost translucent, as if they were suddenly made of glass—as if his feet themselves were suddenly made of glass—