Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War Read online

  “Your flight?”

  “No, not just my people. Everyone in Azeroth.”

  “My, that’s a tall tale.” Kinndy stood in the doorway, looking both confused and wary. “Or at least exaggerated. Surely not every single person in Azeroth will be affected by whatever trouble the blue dragonflight has gotten itself into now.”

  Her hair was a mess. Jaina suspected she’d put it up in pigtails quickly without even running a brush through it. Kalecgos seemed more amused than upset by the gnome’s sharp tongue, and he turned to Jaina quizzically. Jaina recalled Kinndy’s statement to Pained, that no one took her seriously. She felt sure that Kalecgos would learn to.

  “Kalecgos, may I present Kinndy Sparkshine. My apprentice.”

  “How d’ya do,” said Kinndy, helping herself to some tea. “I heard you talking outside to Archmage Tervosh. I got curious.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, apprentice Sparkshine. I am sure that anyone Jaina chooses to take under her wing is a worthy student.”

  Kinndy sniffed and sipped tea. “You’ll forgive me, sir,” she said. “Given all that’s recently happened, I and the rest of the Dalaran magi are a bit… leery of your flight. I mean, you know—war and attempted slaughter of all other magi. Things like that.”

  Jaina winced inwardly. A twenty-two-year-old apprentice was all but accusing the former blue Dragon Aspect of, at the very least, bearing the responsibility for a previous Aspect’s actions, and at the most, being deceitful himself.

  “Kinndy, Kalecgos is a dragon of peace. He’s not like Malygos. He—”

  Kalec lifted a hand, politely interrupting her. “That’s quite all right. No one knows better than I what my people have done to others who use arcane magic in this world. I have come to expect Kinndy’s attitude from anyone who—well, who isn’t a blue dragon.” He gave the gnome a small smile. “A rather large part of my task as the flight’s leader, if no longer its Aspect, has been to try to show that not all of us approved of the Nexus War. And that since the death of Malygos, we have not attempted to control or manipulate others who use the arcane.”

  “Isn’t that the flight’s job, though?” asked Kinndy. “Wasn’t the Aspect entrusted with that very duty? And don’t you still kind of perform that role, even if your unique abilities are gone?”

  Kalecgos’s eyes took on a faraway look. When he spoke, his voice was both softer and deeper, though it remained his own. “‘Magic must be regulated, managed, and controlled. But it must also be appreciated and valued and not hoarded. Such is the contradiction you must deal with.’”

  Jaina felt a shiver run along her spine. Even Kinndy looked subdued. Kalecgos’s eyes once again became bright and alert, and he regarded both of them. “These were the words once spoken by Norgannon, the titan who gave Malygos the power of an Aspect.”

  “And so you make my point for me,” Kinndy said.

  Understanding now that Kalecgos would not take umbrage, and thinking that it might be wise for her to hold her tongue and let the two of them hash it out, Jaina leaned back against the couch’s cushion and simply observed.

  “All words are subject to interpretation,” said Kalecgos. “Malygos chose to understand that he was the ultimate minder of magic. Because he disapproved of how others were choosing to manage magic, he decided to recover it all for himself and his flight alone—that only they could appreciate and value it. I choose to regulate, manage, and control my own magic. To lead by example. To encourage others to appreciate and value it. Because, Kinndy—if you truly appreciate and value something, then you wish to manage it well. You don’t want to hoard it; you want to share it. And that was how I chose to be the minder of magic in this world. Now I am merely the flight’s leader. I am no longer an Aspect. And in this new role, believe me, I more than welcome aid from the Kirin Tor and anyone else who is willing to help.”

  Kinndy pondered this, one foot swinging as it dangled off the floor. The gnomish culture was nothing if not logical, and Kinndy’s methodical brain could appreciate what Kalec was saying. Finally, she nodded.

  “Tell us about this thing that’s going to affect everyone in Azeroth,” she said. Kinndy wasn’t going to apologize for her attitude, but she clearly had moved past mistrust of the blue dragon leader.

  Kalec, too, seemed to understand the shift and addressed both women in his response. “You are familiar with the device known as the Focusing Iris, which has long been in the keeping of the blue dragonflight.”

  “That’s what Malygos used to create the surge needles that diverted the magical ley lines of Azeroth so they flowed to the Nexus,” said Kinndy. Jaina was afraid she was starting to put two and two together, but even now, she still hoped she was wrong.

  “Yes,” he said. “It was. And it is this ancient orb that has been stolen from us.”

  Kinndy looked as if she was going to be sick. Jaina stared at Kalecgos in horror. She couldn’t imagine how he felt. She blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

  “Thank you—for being willing to ask for help,” she said, reaching out and pressing his hand impulsively. He glanced at her hand, then her face, and nodded.

  “I did not exaggerate when I said it affects all of us,” he said. “I spoke with Rhonin, then flew directly here. You, young lady,” he said to Kinndy, “are only the third non-dragon to know.”

  “I—I’m flattered,” stammered Kinndy. The resentment she seemed to bear toward Kalec had utterly disappeared. She said nothing more about “tall tales.” Kalecgos had been telling the truth.

  “What do you know of the theft?” asked Jaina, anxious to turn the discussion to practical matters—what was known, what was yet to be discovered, and, hopefully, what could be done about it.

  Briefly, Kalecgos filled them in. Jaina’s heart sank with each word. Taken by unknown foes who could overcome five dragons?

  “Did Rhonin offer any help?” she asked, surprised by how faint and hopeless her own voice sounded. Kinndy was turning the color of parchment and hadn’t spoken in a while.

  Kalecgos shook his blue-black head. “No. Not yet, at any rate. I was able to sense the direction in which it was traveling. Faintly, but it was there. That’s what led me to Kalimdor—and to you, Jaina.” He spread his hands in an imploring gesture. “I am the leader of the blue dragons. We understand magic. We have our own tomes, more ancient than any you have seen. But what we do not have are your resources. I am not arrogant enough to think that we know everything. There are magi not born dragons who came up with things no dragon ever knew of. That’s where you can help me—if you would.”

  “Of course,” said Jaina. “I’ll bring in Archmage Tervosh, and we’ll all put our heads together.”

  “Breakfast first?” asked Kinndy.

  “Absolutely,” Kalecgos said. “Who can focus on an empty stomach?”

  Slowly, Jaina’s heart lifted, at least a little. Kalec could track the progress of the missing device. He was willing, apparently eager, to accept help. And he was right. Who could focus on an empty stomach?

  Their eyes met and he smiled. Her heart lifted a little more. They had to believe they would recover it in time. And as Kalecgos, Kinndy, and she went into the dining room, she had hope that they would.

  • • •

  The five of them—Jaina, Kalecgos, Tervosh, Pained, and Kinndy—flung themselves into work and research. Kinndy returned to Dalaran, where, with Rhonin’s blessing, she had access to the library. Jaina envied her the task.

  “I remember when that was my duty,” she told Kinndy, giving the gnome a quick hug. “There was nothing I liked better than poring through those old tomes and scrolls and simply learning.” She felt a slight pang; the “new Dalaran” was beautiful, but she no longer belonged there.

  “It was probably more fun when the fate of the world didn’t rest on your research,” Kinndy said morosely. Jaina had to agree.

  Pained, who was in charge of Jaina’s spy network, departed when she heard the news. “I will go int
o the field and learn what I can,” she said. “My spies are diligent, but they might not understand what they need to look for in this situation.” She eyed Kalecgos. “I assume you may be safe here, with this… person, my lady.”

  “I think my own skills and those of a former Aspect will keep me safe in the event of any threat, yes, Pained,” Jaina said. Her voice held no amusement, as she knew how seriously Pained took her duties. The night elf’s gaze flickered to Kalec, then back to Jaina. Pained saluted.

  “Lady.”

  Once Kinndy and Pained had departed for their respective errands, Jaina looked at Tervosh and Kalecgos, nodded briskly, and said, “Let’s get to work. Kalec—earlier you said that you were able to track the Focusing Iris. Why haven’t you simply followed it? Why come to me?”

  He glanced down, looking slightly sick. “I said I had been able to follow it. The trail… vanished shortly after I reached Kalimdor.”

  “What?” Tervosh was irritated. “It couldn’t just stop.”

  “Yes,” Jaina said, her voice heavy. “It could. Whoever stole this thing must have a great deal of power at their disposal if they could stand against five dragons. But they didn’t know enough about it at that time to completely conceal the theft. That’s why Kalec was able to track it.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Kalec said. “At some point, they either did learn enough about it or found a mage who was sufficiently powerful to hide its emanation from me.”

  Tervosh put his face in his hands for a moment. “That’s—someone very powerful indeed.”

  “True,” Jaina said. She lifted her chin in slight defiance of the bad news. “They may have a powerful mage, or more than one. But so do we. And we have the benefit of someone who knows everything about the Focusing Iris. We’d better settle in for a bit while Kalec brings us up to speed.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “Everything,” she said firmly. “Don’t just give us the basics. We need all the details. Even something that seems insignificant could prove useful. Tervosh and I must know what you know.”

  Kalecgos smiled ruefully. “That could take some time.”

  • • •

  It did. He talked until it was time for the midday meal, when they paused briefly to eat, and then until dinner, and continued after that. Even a dragon’s voice, it seemed, became hoarse if he spoke too long. The hour grew late, and that first night, the three all stumbled off to their various bedchambers with heavy-lidded eyes. Jaina didn’t know how the others slept, but as for herself, she had nightmares.

  She awoke the next morning feeling groggy and unrested. Her ritual did not restore her as it usually did, and the sky was overcast and lowering. She felt a heaviness sink into her chest, and sighed. Not wanting to look out on the gray day, she let the curtain fall and went downstairs.

  Kalecgos gave her a warm smile as she entered the little parlor, but it faltered as he noticed her pallor.

  “Didn’t sleep well?”

  She shook her head. “You?”

  “Well enough. Though I was troubled with bad dreams. I blame your chef. That dinner tasted delicious, but obviously there was a fragment of an underdone potato hiding in there somewhere.”

  Despite the direness of the situation, Jaina found herself chuckling a little. “Then you are welcome to conjure all our meals, and that will teach you to complain!” she said, chiding him teasingly.

  He gave her a look of mock horror. Their eyes met, and they both sobered.

  “It seems… wrong to joke,” Jaina said with a sigh. She began the preparation of the tea, measuring it out precisely as she always did, and setting the kettle to boil.

  “It might seem wrong,” Kalec said in agreement, helping himself to the eggs, boar sausage, and hot porridge despite his earlier teasing disparagement of the chef’s abilities. “But it isn’t.”

  “Surely humor is inappropriate at times.” Jaina fixed her own plate and sat down next to Kalec.

  “At times,” he said, digging into the sausage. “But joy is never inappropriate. Not real joy. Not the sort of lightness in the soul that makes the burdens bearable.” He gave her a sideways glance as he chewed and swallowed. “I didn’t give you and Kinndy the full quote that I—well, ‘heard’ isn’t the right word. ‘Received,’ possibly, from Norgannon.”

  The kettle began to sing. Jaina rose to tend to it, pouring tea for both of them. “Really? Why not?”

  “Miss Kinndy didn’t seem in the right frame of mind to receive it properly.”

  She handed him the tea and sat back down. “And I am?”

  An odd look crossed his face. “Perhaps.”

  “Then tell me.”

  He closed his eyes, and again his voice changed, became deeper, became… other.

  “‘I believe that you will find that my gift to you is not just a profound duty—which it is—but also a delight—which it is!… May you be dutiful… and joyous both.’”

  Jaina felt a strange twinge in her heart at the words. She realized she’d been silent, staring into Kalec’s eyes, for several seconds when he quirked a blue eyebrow, inviting a response from her. She looked down at her bowl, stirring her porridge.

  “I—was telling Kinndy the truth. I enjoyed studying,” she said, stammering a little. “I loved it, actually. Loved everything about Dalaran.” Her lips curved in remembrance. “I remember… humming as I went about my tasks,” she added, laughing as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “The scents, the sunlight, the sheer fun of learning and practicing and finally mastering spells, of curling up with cheese and apples and scrolls…”

  “Joy,” Kalec said quietly.

  She supposed it was. It was sweet, to linger in that long-ago moment. Then another memory crystallized… Kael’thas had approached her one such day, and then later… Arthas. The smile faded.

  “What happened?” Kalec asked gently. “The sun went behind a cloud.”

  Jaina pressed her lips together. “Just… we all have ghosts. Maybe even dragons do.”

  “Ah,” he said, regarding her with compassion. “You think of ones you loved and lost.” She forced herself to eat more porridge, though the normally tasty breakfast food was now like sludge in her mouth, and nodded. “Perhaps… of Arthas?”

  Jaina swallowed hard, then started to say something to change the subject. But Kalec pressed on. “We do all have ghosts, Jaina. Even dragons, even Aspects. Grief for her ghost nearly destroyed Alexstrasza, the great Life-Binder herself.”

  “Korialstrasz,” she said. “Krasus. I saw him many times when he was at Dalaran but never really knew him. I had no idea who he truly was.”

  “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 mayb
e 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.”

  6

  It 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.