Dalaran had one of the finest libraries in existence, and Jaina had spent the past two hours there, skimming books. A part of every successful Horde withdrawal in the war. Horde withdrawal? When mentioned, she assumed that there had to be some, at least. It just wasn't what she'd been taught to think of... the Horde advance had been just that, an unthinking push forward. But it couldn't have been only that...
And there, leaping from the page, a precise hand inked drawing of a man she knew all too well. Clean shaven, two plaits of hair at his temples, bound with ornaments... the remainder in a single long tail high on the back of his head. He had been depicted in the garb she'd dreamed him as wearing, heavy embossed leather paneled robes, skulls peering from his shoulders. Every attempt in this rendering had been to be as accurate as possible, he was missing the finger. It had been tinted, his hair was a ruddy blond, his robes a dark graphite gray marked with red, a spellbook chained to his side, light sword hanging low on his other. There were even scaling marks in the margins giving a guess at his height, a very accurate guess at that.
"Unidentified Horde commander." The text read next to the drawing. "Khaz Modan theater, behind lines. Unknown clan. Human male, late twenties by appearance. Rides small black war wolf, very fast. Assumed to be theater primary strategist, high priority target. Expected to lead withdrawal south of Thandol, opportunity to intercept then."
She frowned, turning the page, squinting at the sharply handwritten missive. "Somebody better catch this bastard. And damn soon. Treasonous son of a bitch infiltrated Dun Modr, sabotaged its defenses, and let himself out without being noticed. It's obvious this is their tactician, and source of cultural intel. Kill the fucker, and do it fast!"
Jaina chuckled, they'd obviously been unsuccessful at that. But yes, the pages were clear. He'd been there, he'd been more than willing to orchestrate strong tactical withdrawals, but why had he faded into nothing while those around him had become names known to everyone?
"I'm not certain this is a human at all." Jaina's eyes widened, she'd recognize that hand anywhere. "The infilitration of Dun Modr was enacted by what, for all extents and purposes, appeared to be a dwarven maid. Until we know exactly what this is, I think that the possible morale blow of admitting to a 'human' apostate commanding Horde forces is too devastating, especially without adequate proof as to what, and who, this is. All line commanders know what they're looking for, all scouts as well. Let us not give this one any more opportunity for damage until we're certain."
Antonidas. She sighed, shaking her head. Yes, it seemed like there had been a comprehensive campaign by Alliance command to obscure Varik's existence except for those who were actually charged to stop him. But he'd captured Thandol Span long enough to pull the majority of Horde forces back beyond it, giving them the running room that their tactics demanded. The letters were screaming condemnations filled with grudging respect, and Jaina knew she should feel something more than what she did. All this was was proof and vindication, but even seeing Antonidas's thoughts on him, she felt no remorse. He'd done a good job, the tactical maps and profanity laced communiques made that all too obvious. But this heavily considered, cautious strategy, willing to pull back when necessary, would not have gone over well with orcs riding high on bloodlust and barbarism. It was a miracle he'd succeeded as far as he had.
"Jaina?"
"Morning, Rhonin. I'm just catching up on my consort's exploits."
He raised a brow, still deeply in the shadow of high bookshelves, and he manuevered his way through the stacks into the light. "How's that going?" He asked, sitting beside her. "It's been months now."
"It has. And it's going well. I've grown very fond of Varik, as has most of Theramore... Can I get this copied?" She held up the book, open to the portrait page, "Or is it still considered classified?"
He pulled the book from her hands, gazing at the picture. "So this is your consort?" He nodded slowly, propped the book open and waved his hands. There was a glow, and a second copy of the book sat beside the original. He nodded, then cast again, handing Jaina a larger, framed copy of the actual portrait. "Good luck, Jaina. I'm happy to hear it's working out." He seemed almost melancholy, and she stared at him. "Sorry, it's just that things..."
"Feel like they're going to go bad."
"Yes. Exactly. So you feel it as well?"
"I do. Varik does. He spent his first weeks loose sleeping like a baby, and now he has nightmares...visions."
"Do you trust him?"
She grimaced, staring at the table. "I do, Rhonin. Perhaps I shouldn't, but I do. He's shown little to no interest in picking up his previous life, and a great deal of interest in learning what he needs to know to be my consort. He trains with my men. He's learning to sail. He is willing to..."
"To?" He prompted when she silenced, picking up the original book and placing it carefully back in its place.
"Father a child. I've been holding off on that for a little while, he's been bleeding off corruption since he awoke, and I'd like as much of that gone as possible, beforehand...but."
"But." His doubts were gentle, and she clenched her lips.
"Fine. Fine. Why don't we take a look at the one he's already sired, and see for ourselves?" It was prying, but then, he had never told her not to look. Shouldn't she know before she made a step she couldn't take back?
"He has a child that you know of?"
"Yes, although she would be a young adult now." A souvenir of Varik's time in Stormwind, hardly anything she wanted to admit to Rhonin. "Let us take a look at her."
"Indeed." He murmured, leading the way to the scrying pool in his casting chamber. Unlike his office, this room was immaculately clean, perfectly in order. "Do we have a name?" He asked, leaning over the surface.
"No. All I know is that Varik is her father, and that her mother was..."
Rhonin gave her a solid stare, and she shrugged. It was his pool, his sanctum, he was bound to feel it anyway. "At Stormwind during the Horde sacking."
The stare turned into a pained look, but he nodded and focused. "Unless you really want to see, I will blur through that." He muttered, and she could see Varik in the surface, a thinner, haunted version with burning eyes, trailed by an equally thin black wolf. He was locked in discussion with an orc when a brunette woman fought her way through the guards obviously meant to keep trouble at a fair distance from the pair. She ran straight for Varik, going to her knees as she reached him, and wrapping her arms around his legs. "Please. Oh, please..."
Even knowing that it was long passed, it was difficult to see, to hear, and Jaina was relieved when Rhonin blurred and hurried it. "So that would be the mother." He said, evenly. He'd stopped truly grasping what he saw, he was reading the spell and working through the correlations. "Which would have meant... There, Jaina."
He stepped back from the pool, his gaze hooded. Jaina steeled her nerves, and opened her eyes. It showed a young woman, and there were no doubts as to her paternity. She looked an amazing amount like the first woman that Varik had turned into, only taller and thinner. She had his strong jaw, chiseled lips, bright reddish blonde hair and brown eyes. "Eleri Forbridge." Rhonin stated calmly, much of the doubt bleeding from his expression. "Jaina...I know her. Maginor Dumas has recommended her to us for further training when she completes her studies at Stormwind."
She's lovely. If this was what Varik had sired at the height of his corruption... "I'd like to see that recommendation." She stated, and he only nodded, flicking his fingertips at the image. When it went into motion, somehow the young woman managed to look even more like Varik, she had the same measuring stare, the same easy smile.
She vaguely sensed Rhonin moving away, but she had eyes only for Varik's daughter. "Eleri Forbridge. Been at the Mage Quarter in Stormwind for the past four years, in training. High marks, good recommendations. Mother...three brothers...and a father, all from Lakeshire."
Father. Jaina glanced at the image, and replayed the links that Rhonin had gone through to make the identification. Yes, that was Varik. In Stormwind. Yes. That was a woman who matched his description. She hopped it slightly, there was no way she wanted to truly know...to watch, but she was looking for...
"You. Need to come with me, woman." His voice was harsh, raspy, and he stumbled over the words in Common.
"Where do you go, Varik?" An orc, speaking orcish. The woman glanced in that direction, confused, but did not move her head from her submissive bow.
"We move north soon." Varik snapped in answer, in orcish. "No place for a woman. And I think I've gone and gotten her with brat. I intend to take her out, ride her hard one last time, and take care of the problem."
He pulled her out of the building, moving quickly. "Up." He lifted the woman easily onto a horse, casting a quick glance around and whistling. His wolf appeared immediately, falling into swaying step behind him as he walked the woman and the horse out of Stormwind, using one of the back ways.
Jaina sensed that it had been a long walk, he'd gone far, but the scry automatically compressed it. He stopped, pulling the horse to a stop and stared up at the woman. "You're with child."
Her answering gaze was panicked, her lips moved, but she made no noise.
"Mine." He growled, and the wolf pricked ears in fascination.
"Yes." She finally managed, and Jaina's heart broke for her.
He nodded, his eyes black, his expression set. "There is food. There is gold. There is a compass in the saddle bag, it will point the way to safety. I free you, on one condition."
The woman's eyes were immense, her lips trembled, but she held onto her tears. "That is?"
"You take care of my child. If I find you have not, you will serve me, forever. You've seen that is not an empty threat. You cannot get away from me in death. The only way out is to do as I ask..."
"I understand, and I will."
He only nodded, spinning away and slapping the horse on its hindquarters as he stalked towards the wolf. He jumped onto it with the ease of long experience, loping away as the woman stared after him.
"Not her father." Jaina disputed, dispelling the scry, and Rhonin nodded. "Varik is."
"Varik is her sire. Her father is whoever raised her. But there is your answer, Jaina. Several years ago, at the height of his corruption, he sired a perfectly fine example of arcanely gifted young woman. I can agree that he is up to the challenge of siring one for you."