Chapter 21
It was late afternoon when Anduin Wrynn materialized in a large circular chamber that, though he had never seen it personally, he recognized from illustrations and artwork in history books and paintings which had hung on the walls of his childhood home. He wore his royal blue and gold, princely overcoat, emblazoned with the lion insignias of Stormwind over a clean and pressed white silk collared shirt. His dark leather boots, decorated with golden accents were polished to a shine. His blond hair had been neatly combed and tied back into a short, warrior's ponytail reminiscent of his father's. But as he raised his eyes, any observer could see the bags underneath the bloodshot orbs from lack of sleep. In his right gloved hand was held the white and blue hearthstone, his left held the strap of a large bulging leather and mageweave bag which had been slung across his back.
The seal of Lordaeron was the first thing to greet his eyes as they came back into focus. It was emblazoned across the marble floor his eyes were pointed towards before his disorientation subsided and he raised his head to taken in his new surroundings. The first thing after the seal which greeted his eyes was an elven woman in the traditional dress of the rangers of Silvermoon, a dark blue cloak hid most of her golden blond hair and flawless complexion which were common to her race, though her long tapered ears projected from the sides. Her eyes held an otherworldly greenish glow to them, also a hallmark of her race. If she had been human, he would have guessed her age at no more than thirty years, but he knew that figure to be wildly inaccurate.
The woman sat on a golden and marble throne, its armrests terminating in lion's claws on which she rested her bare, undecorated, slender hands. It was one he had often seen images of, and he knew exactly to which chamber the hearthstone had taken him. He was in the throne room of Lordaeron.
To the left of the regal elf woman, and back a ways from the throne stood an elderly, yet still intimidating orc in mail and leather armor. An impressive war axe hung in a sling across his back. The orc observed the new arrival with keen, cunning eyes and a pensive, though not hostile expression. To her right stood a tall, muscular human man with a soldier's bearing, raven black short cropped hair and beard, and square jaw. His eyes held a dim, pale blue unearthly glow, and he wore the ebon black plate armor of a death knight. The long, two handed blade which hung at his back looked well used. The death knight observed the prince with a curious expression, though again, not hostile. His own pale blue glowing eyes held bags under them as though it had been a long time since he had slept well.
Her two closest advisers, it appears, are an aged orc and a knight of the Ebon Blade. If my friends in Ironforge had seen this, they would have restrained me from coming here for my own good. He thought to himself.
The one thing which truly appeared out of place in the scene to his eyes, or perhaps it was most fitting under the circumstances, was the sight of a little, dark haired human girl in a dress of Sindorei design. She slept peacefully on the elven woman's lap against her golden armored breast.
Was the girl a statement the elven queen wished to make to him at the outset? He took note of it and wondered what the queen meant to convey by her presence.
After a minute or so, the elven queen spoke directly to him, but made no attempt to get up from her throne, "Greetings, Anduin Wrynn, you are welcome in Lordaeron."
Her tone of voice was formal but polite. It was one many rulers and diplomats used at the outset of negotiations as a matter of protocol, he recognized.
"Thank you, your majesty, for the invitation." The prince of Stormwind returned with the same formality and politeness. Then he added, "I must say that it did come as a surprise, and I must also say," he then added, "my coming here was counseled against by the remaining Alliance leadership and representatives. But my place is with my people."
"Of course it is." Sylvanas Windrunner responded. "Our first concern as leaders of our people will always be the welfare of our people."
"I agree unquestionably." Anduin replied.
She then spoke loudly so that all those in the throne room could hear her clearly. "Let it be known that the queen of Lordaeron formally recognizes your rightful succession as sovereign king over the Kingdom of Stormwind and its territories, and that this kingdom will afford you every hospitality as befitting your station and rank until such a time as you and your people no longer require it."
Anduin considered this pronouncement carefully. Sylvanas was following all of the established protocols when, in truth, she had no need to either for herself or her own united northern kingdom. From all he had heard of her, she could have simply lain claim to all of it, and there would have been nothing he could do at the moment to reclaim what was legally his without further weakening and splitting the Alliance forces when their unity was need now more than ever. The title she had recognized and the rights that went with it were generous considering that the major city of his kingdom had been destroyed and the rest of his territories lay under siege at this very moment.
He had been informed of the truth of this queen's message later that evening after he received it. Ironforge had attempted to send their promised troops to his father through the tram which ran in between their capital and his only to find Stormwind's end caved in and impassible. They then sent gryphons and flying machines to overfly the city and its provinces. The devastation they reported was unimaginable, especially for such a small force as the orc warchief had brought with him. The dwarven ambassador wanted the prince to return with him immediately to the mountain fortress city of Ironforge and was aghast when he learned of the elf queen's invitation and message.
"That is generous, your majesty, considering the circumstances. If I am now a king, it is in title only, and one in exile at that." He replied. "Still, I thank you for the courtesy." He then moved on quickly to the topic which most pressed on his mind. "My people, where are they?"
She nodded approvingly, and her face adopted an expression one might take with an equal. "Many of those we rescued from Stormwind City remain in Southshore in temporary camps until we can find or build more permanent housing. Those we were able to bring through portals are now here in Lordaeron or in Silvermoon City. I have given orders to find them what housing and provisions we can find. I understand that many have been housed in the western half of the city which had been vacant for some time though is now undergoing reconstruction."
There was some relief, tense though it was, in Anduin's expression as heard. He then asked the question that he had dreaded to know the answer to. "How many? How many survivors were there?"
"We are still gathering a complete census. It's difficult to make a full head count because we had to evacuate them to three separate locations. My people estimate as many as twenty thousand total between the transport ships and those we got out through mage's portals. Most of those are children and their caretakers, though there are some elderly and a few soldiers who made it out as well. I'm told that the Kirin Tor may have my head for the damage we caused to the ley lines by so much portal traffic." She then looked down at the sleeping girl and said in a lower, though still audible voice, "So be it."
Anduin didn't have to do the mental math to know most of his city had perished along with his father. An image of the dark haired, ruggedly handsome warrior king with the scarred face passed in front of his mind's eye. He and his father had not always seen eye to eye on many things, but in the last few years they had at least come to an understanding of one another, and even a reconciliation.
"And my father? How did he die?" Anduin then asked, a slight tremor of emotion in his voice.
The queen's expression softened a bit as she told him, "I am told by my own people that witnessed it, and by those of his men that survived, that he challenged the warchief to single combat in order to buy time for your people to evacuate to the harbor. If the warchief had not used the power of the relic he is now in possession of, he might have put an end to all of this. He gave his life so that your people might survive. For this, in spite of our past differences, I honor his memory. Unfortunately, we were not able to retrieve either his body or his possessions."
"I understand. Thank you for your kind words on his behalf." Anduin replied, emotion seeping into his voice.
Sylvanas then told him, "My people will show you to the rooms we have prepared for your stay. They have all been instructed that you are free to go anywhere in within our domain or to travel to your allies as befitting your station and as we are able to provide portals. The one exception is the Undercity beneath us, not without my escort. Consider this your home, your majesty, until your kingdom may be restored to you."
She motioned with her right hand for two men wearing crimson and gold cloth coats and pants with the firebird insignia of the new Lordaeron to approach the new king of Stormwind in exile. They politely gestured to take his traveler's bag from him and escort him to his prepared set of rooms.
"Generous, your majesty, thank you again." Anduin replied as he took his leave of her and followed her two servants out of the throne room.
Shaggara returned to the silvery moonlight and soft soil floor of the arboretum from the golden and marble doorway she had passed through. There was a new purpose and resolve on her mind and heart as she traveled back along the path through the guardian woods. As she reached the center of the arboretum where the great ancient stood, she found her Pandaren companion where she had left him, seated peacefully on the ground. Drawing near to him, she could hear the Pandaren chuckle more than once as the ancient tree spoke to him in its rich, deep voice.
On the ground in front of Guozhi sat a plain metal tray upon which rested a similarly metallic plate and bowl. What those vessels had originally contained was anybody's guess as there remained only crumbs on the plate and a small amount of broth in the bowl. A tall, cylindrical gray metal flask stood upright on the tray as well, and the subtly sweet, earthy scent of a black tea caught her nose as she came to stand next to her.
"Guozhi?" Shaggara asked. "Are you alright?"
"Ah! Honorable Shaggara! Yes, yes! I am most well! The honorable ancient one and I have been sharing stories of my people both new and ancient. It is a fascinating tale he tells! And the young metal lady has been most hospitable." He told her, gesturing to the empty vessels on the tray.
Guozhi then picked himself off the ground and asked her, "Did you find the answers you sought?"
"I did." She told him, and then said with a humbleness uncharacteristic of her people, "And part of that answer lies with you, my friend, if you would do me the honor of teaching me."
The Pandaren monk bowed slightly to her and replied, "It would be my sincere honor, my friend. But where does the other part of the answer lie?"
"I believe it lies with another, though how to find him I do not know." She admitted.
Guozhi nodded and then turned to the ancient tree with whom he had been speaking and bowed once more. "It was most pleasant to speak with you, honorable ancient one. I hope we may be able to share stories once more, but now, regrettably, I must take my leave of you."
"You are welcome among us, monk Guozhi." The ancient guardian responded in its deliberate, deep voice. "I have not enjoyed such new company in a very long time." It then added, before raising its branches high to the silvery light once more, "May Mother Elune bless your path. Walk well in her light."
Then the trees around them fell silent and still, returning to their long slumber. A narrow and straight path returning to the landing of the tower stairwell opened between them as they did.
The orc warrior woman and the Pandaren monk then proceeded through the moonlit arboretum and back into the white stone spiral stairwell.
It was later in the evening in Ironforge when Anduin materialized in the bronze colored throne room of the deep mountain city. The white and blue hearthstone given to him by his trusted friend and comrade Muradin Bronzebeard had worked flawlessly.
"Anduin lad!" Came the deep cry of his heavily armored dwarf friend as he almost charged up to him to embrace him in a fierce hug. "We thought tha' devil witch would never ha' let you go!"
The dwarf was only about half the human man's height and Anduin had to bend down to return the embrace. The dwarf's hair and braided beard were the signature coppery bronze color of his clan, and his heavy plate armor bore the marks and insignias of both his clan and Ironforge itself.
"Tis' good to see ye 'gain, lad." Another, female dwarf's voice called out, though did not engage in such a familiar welcome as her fellow representative on the dwarven council. Still, Moira Thaurissan's welcome was cordial without a trace of irony or sarcasm. Her own hair was the same color as Muradin's, bound tightly in twin buns on either side of her head. She wore a dark colored dress with armored shoulder plates that carried the sigils of the Dark Iron clan, though she carried the title of Queen Regent of Ironforge, being the daughter of the late dwarf king, Magni Bronzebeard.
"They didna' hurt a hair o' ye head, now did they lad?" Muradin questioned suspiciously.
"No, quite the contrary. I have been given all the courtesies one could ask for or be afforded, including free passage to and from Lordaeron to consult with our allies." The prince responded.
"And your people they made off with? Where're they holding them?" The dwarf questioned further.
Anduin shook his head at the dwarf. "Safe for the moment and being provided for as I am told. I intend to check on their state myself tomorrow." He then related the entire exchange with his friend and the other dwarves present. "Muradin," he then began, "I didn't sense any hostility or deception in Sylvanas' eyes or tone of voice. I believe she sincerely meant everything she said."
"Tha' only means she's a convincing liar, lad." Moira remarked, speaking from experience. "The best ones even believe everything they say, tha' doesna' make it true. We know wha' this witch is capable of, don' we? We know wha' she's done in th' past, and wha' she's threatened your father with."
"I know, but for now she is apparently seeing to the welfare of my people. I will confirm the truth of her words as time progresses. There is something about her expression and demeanor that seems very different from the stories I have heard of the Dark Lady. The woman I met is not the woman I have heard of." He told them.
Muradin sighed, giving the prince a skeptical look. "I trust your judgment, lad. You've got a way with seein' people and gettin' them to see things as they are, no question 'bout tha'. But this witch is no' to be trusted. Not even her Horde allies ever went so far as to trust her word on anything. Tha' is why Thrall put his guards in her city in th' first place."
Moira then added, "You're still a young 'un, lad. Don' be fallin' for what she's sellin', pretty face or no."
"I won't." Anduin replied firmly, understanding where they were both coming from, and what was behind their warnings. "But I also understand people can change, and the changes her people have recently gone through are extreme. Everyone has a reason for the actions they take, either for good or for ill. It's a matter of understanding why they take them. She has already earned the benefit of the doubt just by saving the people that she did. She didn't have to do that, and she took a big risk in so doing." He then continued, speaking his train of thought out loud. "With this new power that Garrosh Hellscream used to destroy Stormwind, Ironforge doesn't have the troop strength to make an enemy of the north as well as defend itself from the Horde who will likely come in from the south. We need to learn more about it, and what Sylvanas Windrunner's true intentions are. We need to know if she truly is what she now appears to be."
"And wha' do ye think that is, lad?" Moira asked.
"Our new ally against Hellscream." Anduin responded. "And if she is, we don't want to turn what help she offers away."
"And if she isna'? Wha' then?" Muradin asked, almost not believing what he was hearing.
"Then the Alliance, and my own people, may not survive this new war." Anduin told them matter of factly.
"You sure 'bout this, lad?" Moira asked him. "'Tis a dangerous course o' action ye be takin' then."
Anduin nodded. "I'm sure. Send word to Tyrande Whisperwind in Darnassus and the Prophet Velen in the Exodar of my decision, and my whereabouts. Have the night elves then inform Genn Greymane. I'll keep all of you updated with whatever news I can."
"The gods help us all then when we be trustin' the queen o' the damned to save us." Muradin swore.
The white ghost wolf was waiting for them at the foot of the white stone arch as the orc warrior and the Pandaren monk emerged from the ancient night elf tower. It appeared to shimmer translucently as it sat back on its haunches and observed the two, calmly watching them come through the arched stone doorway that sealed itself when they were fully through.
Shaggara was the first to see it.
She stood at the bend of the arched ramp looking down at the spirit animal as it calmly watched her, though did not vanish from sight at their approach.
"What do you want?" She demanded from the animal, a tinge of fear creeping into her voice.
The stories and superstitions of her own people ran through her mind. She balled her fists, not sure of what action to take with it, though her newly twinned blades remained where they were in their scabbards.
Then the animal's form began to shift, morph, and solidify into the shape of a tall, middle aged orc man wearing the vest and kilt of a shaman of her people. His face Shaggara knew very well.
"Warchief?" She asked in disbelief.
Thrall sighed at the apellation sadly. "No longer." He replied. "Such is my own burden to bear."
"It was you who followed us on the road?" She questioned, not knowing what else to say. "Why?"
The orc man looked her in the eyes, and even, it seemed, through them to what strength may lay beneath. Finding what he sought and approving, he said, "The spirits of the elements speak your name, Shaggara of the Warsong clan. They call you. I have come to bring you to them."