The smells of ash and rotting flesh hung in the air in what had once been
the proud city of Stratholme. Corpses were piled high at every
intersection, hundreds of human bodies without names or markers. Husbands
mourned their wives, and wives their husbands; children cried helplessly
for parents, and parents searched the ruined houses in vain for their
children. Acrid smoke from the funeral pyres, lit to mask the stench of
death, rose over the town and poisoned the skies above. The clouds of smoke
billowed and hung about the cityscape like a tombstone for the whole city,
as if to say to any who saw it, "Here Lies Stratholme, Rest In Peace."
The woman did not know why she was here. She had no purpose here. She had had a purpose once, she knew, but something had happened, something terrible that she could not bring herself to recall, and she had lost it. She had lost her purpose, her very reason or will to live. She had wandered vaguely for a time and found herself here, in this place of death and destruction, where so many mourned those they had lost. She mourned too, but she mourned herself.
"So much death," she found herself saying. She often spoke to herself now, but she rarely listened. She was lost, and she wanted to stay lost until the memories of the terrible thing had gone away.
A voice she knew, a man's voice, was calling something; she could hear it. Was it some memory, some ghost she had conjured up from her misery to torment herself with? No; it was real, it was somewhere out in the city. She listened.
"Jaina," the voice said. She knew that name, almost like she knew the voice, although she could place neither. "Jaina," it called again. Who was it? Who was Jaina? And who was the man with the voice?
"Jaina, Jaina Proudmoore." The voice was clearer now. She looked down the lane. There was a tall man in armor coming towards her. His was the voice she had heard. "Jaina, Jaina Proudmoore!" he called again. He was looking at her. That was strange. She wasn't Jaina, was she? She thought hard. She supposed perhaps she might be. The man called again. "Jaina!" He was nearer now and it was clear he had recognized her.
"Yes," she murmured, more to herself than to him "I suppose I am. And you are..." She paused. Something was coming back, something she had buried away. "Lord Uther!" she cried finally. Yes, she remembered him. She remembered...
She shuddered as memories came back. Not so quickly, she begged herself. Uther was speaking.
"Ah, Jaina. I thought I might find you here. Where has he gone, girl?" She shoved the memory back again. She had to fight it, had to keep it away...
"Wh-who?" she tried. Uther's reply was sharp.
"Arthas, of course. Think, girl. Where has he gone? Where has Arthas taken the fleet?"
Arthas... there was another name that was familiar. She thought hard... they were coming back, she couldn't fight them...
"H-he came to me before he left," she was saying. Images where coming back, images of a young man with yellow hair. They were talking, arguing... he struck her...
She crumpled to the ground and assumed a fetal position. It was all coming back, all too soon... she couldn't fight it... She began to sob. "I pleaded with him not to go, I told him it sounded like a trap!"
"WHERE?" Uther yelled.
"Northrend!" She exclaimed, and the sobbing intensified into a bawl. She remembered him walking away, remembered him leaving her there in the snow... she remembered...
"H-he's gone to N-Northrend to hunt Mal'Ganis," She remembered it all.
"Damn that boy!" Uther grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. "I've got to inform King Terenas," he said. "I'll send a knight for you. You're going to be just fine, Jaina." She continued to lie there, sobbing.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, girl," Uther said softly. "You had nothing to do with this... slaughter." She cried louder. Uther looked behind him. Villagers were beginning to stare.
A strange voice spoke. "This 'slaughter', is only the beginning." Uther looked up. A man, dressed in a brown cloak adorned with raven feathers, sat upon an arch above the street. Uther squinted. Had he been there the whole time?
"The dead in this land might lie still for the time being," he continued, "but don't be fooled. Your young prince will find only death in the cold north."
"You," Jaina murmured. She uncurled and looked up at the stranger. Her sobbing, Uther noted, seemed to have stopped. "Arthas is only doing what he thinks is right!" Uther smiled. Despite his crimes, Jaina still stood up for the young prince.
"Commendable as that may be," the stranger said, "his passions will be his undoing." He dropped from the arch and landed nimbly on the street. "It falls to you now, young sorceress," he said, gesturing to Jaina. "You must lead your people west to the ancient lands of Kalimdor. Only there can you combat the shadow and save this world from the flame."
"Me? But how-"
"The King, the Arch-Mage, and the Prince have all refused this cup - their fates are sealed. Go quickly now, young one. You must rally your people in their darkest hour, or their fates shall be sealed as well. Only in the west, in the forgotten lands, can you hope to make your stand."
He turned and began to walk away.
"Wait!" Jaina called. The stranger stopped for a moment, and looked over his shoulder at her.
"The warning has been given, Jaina Proudmoore. I hope that you heed it, for the shadow is nearly upon you... I do not have time to find someone else." He reached the arch and murmured a word of magic. There was a dim flash, and a great raven appeared where the stranger had been standing. The bid cawed, as if to bid the paladin and the sorceress farewell, and then, with a mighty flap of its wings, it vanished into the smoke-filled sky.
Uther reached down and helped Jaina to her feet. She stood up straight and smoothed out her wizard's robes. Uther looked at her closely. Her tears were gone, her eyes dry, and her fear and mourning replaced with a look of proud, grim determination.
"I must go to the King now," Uther said softly.
"I will go with you," she replied.
***
Black Rook Isle glistened in the Lordamere bay like a charcoal diamond in a bed of obsidian. The island's gleaming silver turrets and majestic archways could be seen from far across the bay as Admiral Proudmoore's ship, the Majestic, floated serenely atop the calm, waveless waters. A smaller ship, the Steadfast, was anchored nearby. The Admiral had come to Lordamere to meet with King Terenas and his wizards - for that was how the Admiral thought of the Kirin Tor - as soon as the news of his daughter's disappearance had reached him. Though separated by distance and business, Daelin Proudmoore remained a very protective parent, and kept a far closer eye on his daughter than she probably guessed. Communications with her wizard masters, agents in the palaces - everything short of direct espionage kept the aging Admiral aware of his daughter's whereabouts and well-being.
When the young sorceress had gone missing, therefore, he immediately hopped aboard his fastest vessel, the Steadfast, sent a letter ahead to prepare the for his coming, and sailed through sea and river from his home port of Kul Tiras to Black Rook Isle, the guest palace of King Terenas, in hopes of enlisting the king's men to search for the missing Jaina. He had chosen to remain on his embassy ship, the Majesty, which was permanently anchored in the bay, rather than to await Terenas in the palace - a breach of protocol, which would hopefully impress upon Terenas the urgency of the visit. It seemed to have worked, as a white-and-gold flag symbolizing a meeting had just gone up over Black Rook's turrets, announcing Terenas' arrival, and Proudmoore was now in a smaller boat, being ferried across the bay to the isle to meet the king.
The boat struck ground on a narrow stretch of beach between long expanses of treacherous rocks and stones. This was the only safe landing on the isle, and it was directly in front of the obsidian-tiled palace. The palace itself had once been a fortress, Proudmoore knew, in days of old when the infant human kingdoms had battled one another for dominance of the countryside. In those times, the myriad stone formations had served as a deterrent for pirates and invaders, keeping enemies from landing and disabling the powerful cannons the fortress used to protect the rest of the bay. Now, however, they were merely very pretty, as all visitors to the isle were invited, and were therefore directed away from the dangerous rocks to the soft, sandy beach.
Proudmoore pulled himself up out of the boat and swung his leg over the side, his gray boot crunching against a patch of gravel. He stood and began to walk towards the gleaming black palace as the sailors behind him made haste to lash the boat to a nearby post. A pair of servants dashed ahead to open the door for him, and he stepped out of the sun into a beautiful room. The floors were smooth and dark, much to his taste, and the walls were soft, with seashells and paintings of mermaids that were pleasing to the eye. Terenas had obviously styled the room specifically for the Admiral's visit, and was a blatant advertisement of the king's vast wealth. Though the coastal theme of the room visually pleased him, Proudmoore was inwardly angered that Terenas would devote more funds to a room than he seemed to indulge in his people. Easy, he told himself. This is not your country. Let Terenas run his monarchy the way he wants to, and you run yours the way you want to.
"Daelin!" came a congenial voice. The Admiral spun. A slightly overweight man who vaguely resembled the King Terenas in his memory was stepping through a doorway, his arms outstretched in greeting. He was followed by a group of men, whom Proudmoore assumed must be servants. The Admiral gingerly approached the king, who leapt forward and embraced him in a bear hug.
"It's been ages, hasn't it?" the king said. "How was your voyage? How's your kingdom? How is trade going for you?"
"Fine, all fine." The Admiral removed himself from the embrace and smoothed his clothing. "If you don't mind, your Majesty, I thought we might get right down to business."
"Oh! Of course, of course!" The king was eager to help. "What's the trouble, Admiral?" Given the tenderness of the situation, the king's casual demeanor had begun to annoy him. He pressed on, regardless.
"My daughter has gone missing," Proudmoore said. This seemed to surprise the king. Obviously, Proudmoore thought, his agents are not as reliable as my own.
"Gone missing, eh?" Terenas asked. "That's the trouble with kids today; always running off. Take my Arthas, for example. I haven't seen him in months; he's always so busy with the Silver Hand and all..."
Proudmoore sighed. The king wasn't taking this the least bit seriously.
"Still..." Terenas said, as if struggling to add something up in his head. "Are you quite sure she's, well, actually 'missing'? You've spoken with the Kirin Tor?"
"Yes, I've had correspondence with your wizards, Highness. Nothing."
"Very strange, indeed..." The king paused. "Uther?" He turned to one of the men who stood behind him. Proudmoore blinked. Uther the Lightbringer? he thought. He studied the man's face. The paladin was older and seemingly more bitter than when the Admiral had seen him so many years ago, but underneath the graying beard that now covered his face, there was a face Proudmoore recognized. He got old, he found himself thinking.
How old does that make me, then? he wondered.
"Uther," Terenas was saying, "this all strikes me as very strange. I'm quite sure I've seen Miss Proudmoore very recently. Do you have any idea where that might have been?" He's being sarcastic, the Admiral realized. What's he getting at?
"Yes," Uther said. He did not seem to share the king's humor, or enthusiasm. "Yes, she came in with me. She's staying in the palace, remember? Shall I fetch her?"
"There's no need," came a woman's voice. "I came anyway." Everyone turned. In another doorway, Jaina Proudmoore stood alone. She wore her dirtied traveling clothes, though Terenas had without doubt given her some pretty gown to wear - the Admiral smiled proudly - and her sorceress' wand hung from her belt.
"Jaina!" the Admiral cried, rushing to his daughter's side and embracing her. She pulled away.
"We must leave, Father," she said.
"But you've only just arrived!" the king called. Does the man ever shut up and mind his own business? Admiral Proudmoore wondered.
"No," Jaina said to her father. "I don't mean we must leave the palace - I mean we must leave Lordaeron, leave the whole continent. And I don't mean just us two, I mean everyone, anyone who'll come!"
"What?" king and the Admiral gasped at the same time.
"Easy, Jaina," Uther said.
"Listen to me, Father. I have seen things, horrible things. I've seen armies of the dead march. I've seen good men do evil deeds. I've seen the people die and rise again. Something is coming, Father, something big. And we can't fight it here. Arthas tried, and he's failed."
"Arthas? What do you know about Arthas?" Terenas shrieked.
"We've got to sail west, to a place called Kalimdor."
"I don't understand, love. Why must we go? What is coming?"
"The end of the world," she said.
"This is madness!" the king shouted. "I've heard this before. I for one am not going anywhere! My place is with my people, and my people's place is here!"
"Jaina," Uther said softly, "what are you saying? How can we leave our homes, our families? You're not thinking clearly, girl."
"I am, Uther!" Jaina replied. "You were there. You heard what that man told me. We must go! We have no chance here!"
"Preposterous," Terenas was saying. "We will not leave. Lordaeron does not run from its enemies!"
"Then you can stay if you want," Jaina said coldly. "Your choice is already made, after all. I am going, with any who will follow me."
"You are not going anywhere," Proudmoore said. Jaina looked at him. "I don't know what has gotten into you, Jaina. First you disappear, and now you want to leave forever? I forbid it. This is a fool's errand, and my daughter will not be part of it!"
"But-"
"No!" He turned and motioned to his servants, who moved towards the door. "King Terenas, I thank you for your hospitality, brief though my visit has been. I," he grabbed Jaina's arm, "and my daughter, will now return to the Majesty. We will depart at dawn. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you." He pulled Jaina towards the door.
Outside, thunder clapped. The sky had grown dark. A storm was coming.
***
The woman did not know why she was here. She had no purpose here. She had had a purpose once, she knew, but something had happened, something terrible that she could not bring herself to recall, and she had lost it. She had lost her purpose, her very reason or will to live. She had wandered vaguely for a time and found herself here, in this place of death and destruction, where so many mourned those they had lost. She mourned too, but she mourned herself.
"So much death," she found herself saying. She often spoke to herself now, but she rarely listened. She was lost, and she wanted to stay lost until the memories of the terrible thing had gone away.
A voice she knew, a man's voice, was calling something; she could hear it. Was it some memory, some ghost she had conjured up from her misery to torment herself with? No; it was real, it was somewhere out in the city. She listened.
"Jaina," the voice said. She knew that name, almost like she knew the voice, although she could place neither. "Jaina," it called again. Who was it? Who was Jaina? And who was the man with the voice?
"Jaina, Jaina Proudmoore." The voice was clearer now. She looked down the lane. There was a tall man in armor coming towards her. His was the voice she had heard. "Jaina, Jaina Proudmoore!" he called again. He was looking at her. That was strange. She wasn't Jaina, was she? She thought hard. She supposed perhaps she might be. The man called again. "Jaina!" He was nearer now and it was clear he had recognized her.
"Yes," she murmured, more to herself than to him "I suppose I am. And you are..." She paused. Something was coming back, something she had buried away. "Lord Uther!" she cried finally. Yes, she remembered him. She remembered...
She shuddered as memories came back. Not so quickly, she begged herself. Uther was speaking.
"Ah, Jaina. I thought I might find you here. Where has he gone, girl?" She shoved the memory back again. She had to fight it, had to keep it away...
"Wh-who?" she tried. Uther's reply was sharp.
"Arthas, of course. Think, girl. Where has he gone? Where has Arthas taken the fleet?"
Arthas... there was another name that was familiar. She thought hard... they were coming back, she couldn't fight them...
"H-he came to me before he left," she was saying. Images where coming back, images of a young man with yellow hair. They were talking, arguing... he struck her...
She crumpled to the ground and assumed a fetal position. It was all coming back, all too soon... she couldn't fight it... She began to sob. "I pleaded with him not to go, I told him it sounded like a trap!"
"WHERE?" Uther yelled.
"Northrend!" She exclaimed, and the sobbing intensified into a bawl. She remembered him walking away, remembered him leaving her there in the snow... she remembered...
"H-he's gone to N-Northrend to hunt Mal'Ganis," She remembered it all.
"Damn that boy!" Uther grabbed her arm and lifted her to her feet. "I've got to inform King Terenas," he said. "I'll send a knight for you. You're going to be just fine, Jaina." She continued to lie there, sobbing.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, girl," Uther said softly. "You had nothing to do with this... slaughter." She cried louder. Uther looked behind him. Villagers were beginning to stare.
A strange voice spoke. "This 'slaughter', is only the beginning." Uther looked up. A man, dressed in a brown cloak adorned with raven feathers, sat upon an arch above the street. Uther squinted. Had he been there the whole time?
"The dead in this land might lie still for the time being," he continued, "but don't be fooled. Your young prince will find only death in the cold north."
"You," Jaina murmured. She uncurled and looked up at the stranger. Her sobbing, Uther noted, seemed to have stopped. "Arthas is only doing what he thinks is right!" Uther smiled. Despite his crimes, Jaina still stood up for the young prince.
"Commendable as that may be," the stranger said, "his passions will be his undoing." He dropped from the arch and landed nimbly on the street. "It falls to you now, young sorceress," he said, gesturing to Jaina. "You must lead your people west to the ancient lands of Kalimdor. Only there can you combat the shadow and save this world from the flame."
"Me? But how-"
"The King, the Arch-Mage, and the Prince have all refused this cup - their fates are sealed. Go quickly now, young one. You must rally your people in their darkest hour, or their fates shall be sealed as well. Only in the west, in the forgotten lands, can you hope to make your stand."
He turned and began to walk away.
"Wait!" Jaina called. The stranger stopped for a moment, and looked over his shoulder at her.
"The warning has been given, Jaina Proudmoore. I hope that you heed it, for the shadow is nearly upon you... I do not have time to find someone else." He reached the arch and murmured a word of magic. There was a dim flash, and a great raven appeared where the stranger had been standing. The bid cawed, as if to bid the paladin and the sorceress farewell, and then, with a mighty flap of its wings, it vanished into the smoke-filled sky.
Uther reached down and helped Jaina to her feet. She stood up straight and smoothed out her wizard's robes. Uther looked at her closely. Her tears were gone, her eyes dry, and her fear and mourning replaced with a look of proud, grim determination.
"I must go to the King now," Uther said softly.
"I will go with you," she replied.
***
Black Rook Isle glistened in the Lordamere bay like a charcoal diamond in a bed of obsidian. The island's gleaming silver turrets and majestic archways could be seen from far across the bay as Admiral Proudmoore's ship, the Majestic, floated serenely atop the calm, waveless waters. A smaller ship, the Steadfast, was anchored nearby. The Admiral had come to Lordamere to meet with King Terenas and his wizards - for that was how the Admiral thought of the Kirin Tor - as soon as the news of his daughter's disappearance had reached him. Though separated by distance and business, Daelin Proudmoore remained a very protective parent, and kept a far closer eye on his daughter than she probably guessed. Communications with her wizard masters, agents in the palaces - everything short of direct espionage kept the aging Admiral aware of his daughter's whereabouts and well-being.
When the young sorceress had gone missing, therefore, he immediately hopped aboard his fastest vessel, the Steadfast, sent a letter ahead to prepare the for his coming, and sailed through sea and river from his home port of Kul Tiras to Black Rook Isle, the guest palace of King Terenas, in hopes of enlisting the king's men to search for the missing Jaina. He had chosen to remain on his embassy ship, the Majesty, which was permanently anchored in the bay, rather than to await Terenas in the palace - a breach of protocol, which would hopefully impress upon Terenas the urgency of the visit. It seemed to have worked, as a white-and-gold flag symbolizing a meeting had just gone up over Black Rook's turrets, announcing Terenas' arrival, and Proudmoore was now in a smaller boat, being ferried across the bay to the isle to meet the king.
The boat struck ground on a narrow stretch of beach between long expanses of treacherous rocks and stones. This was the only safe landing on the isle, and it was directly in front of the obsidian-tiled palace. The palace itself had once been a fortress, Proudmoore knew, in days of old when the infant human kingdoms had battled one another for dominance of the countryside. In those times, the myriad stone formations had served as a deterrent for pirates and invaders, keeping enemies from landing and disabling the powerful cannons the fortress used to protect the rest of the bay. Now, however, they were merely very pretty, as all visitors to the isle were invited, and were therefore directed away from the dangerous rocks to the soft, sandy beach.
Proudmoore pulled himself up out of the boat and swung his leg over the side, his gray boot crunching against a patch of gravel. He stood and began to walk towards the gleaming black palace as the sailors behind him made haste to lash the boat to a nearby post. A pair of servants dashed ahead to open the door for him, and he stepped out of the sun into a beautiful room. The floors were smooth and dark, much to his taste, and the walls were soft, with seashells and paintings of mermaids that were pleasing to the eye. Terenas had obviously styled the room specifically for the Admiral's visit, and was a blatant advertisement of the king's vast wealth. Though the coastal theme of the room visually pleased him, Proudmoore was inwardly angered that Terenas would devote more funds to a room than he seemed to indulge in his people. Easy, he told himself. This is not your country. Let Terenas run his monarchy the way he wants to, and you run yours the way you want to.
"Daelin!" came a congenial voice. The Admiral spun. A slightly overweight man who vaguely resembled the King Terenas in his memory was stepping through a doorway, his arms outstretched in greeting. He was followed by a group of men, whom Proudmoore assumed must be servants. The Admiral gingerly approached the king, who leapt forward and embraced him in a bear hug.
"It's been ages, hasn't it?" the king said. "How was your voyage? How's your kingdom? How is trade going for you?"
"Fine, all fine." The Admiral removed himself from the embrace and smoothed his clothing. "If you don't mind, your Majesty, I thought we might get right down to business."
"Oh! Of course, of course!" The king was eager to help. "What's the trouble, Admiral?" Given the tenderness of the situation, the king's casual demeanor had begun to annoy him. He pressed on, regardless.
"My daughter has gone missing," Proudmoore said. This seemed to surprise the king. Obviously, Proudmoore thought, his agents are not as reliable as my own.
"Gone missing, eh?" Terenas asked. "That's the trouble with kids today; always running off. Take my Arthas, for example. I haven't seen him in months; he's always so busy with the Silver Hand and all..."
Proudmoore sighed. The king wasn't taking this the least bit seriously.
"Still..." Terenas said, as if struggling to add something up in his head. "Are you quite sure she's, well, actually 'missing'? You've spoken with the Kirin Tor?"
"Yes, I've had correspondence with your wizards, Highness. Nothing."
"Very strange, indeed..." The king paused. "Uther?" He turned to one of the men who stood behind him. Proudmoore blinked. Uther the Lightbringer? he thought. He studied the man's face. The paladin was older and seemingly more bitter than when the Admiral had seen him so many years ago, but underneath the graying beard that now covered his face, there was a face Proudmoore recognized. He got old, he found himself thinking.
How old does that make me, then? he wondered.
"Uther," Terenas was saying, "this all strikes me as very strange. I'm quite sure I've seen Miss Proudmoore very recently. Do you have any idea where that might have been?" He's being sarcastic, the Admiral realized. What's he getting at?
"Yes," Uther said. He did not seem to share the king's humor, or enthusiasm. "Yes, she came in with me. She's staying in the palace, remember? Shall I fetch her?"
"There's no need," came a woman's voice. "I came anyway." Everyone turned. In another doorway, Jaina Proudmoore stood alone. She wore her dirtied traveling clothes, though Terenas had without doubt given her some pretty gown to wear - the Admiral smiled proudly - and her sorceress' wand hung from her belt.
"Jaina!" the Admiral cried, rushing to his daughter's side and embracing her. She pulled away.
"We must leave, Father," she said.
"But you've only just arrived!" the king called. Does the man ever shut up and mind his own business? Admiral Proudmoore wondered.
"No," Jaina said to her father. "I don't mean we must leave the palace - I mean we must leave Lordaeron, leave the whole continent. And I don't mean just us two, I mean everyone, anyone who'll come!"
"What?" king and the Admiral gasped at the same time.
"Easy, Jaina," Uther said.
"Listen to me, Father. I have seen things, horrible things. I've seen armies of the dead march. I've seen good men do evil deeds. I've seen the people die and rise again. Something is coming, Father, something big. And we can't fight it here. Arthas tried, and he's failed."
"Arthas? What do you know about Arthas?" Terenas shrieked.
"We've got to sail west, to a place called Kalimdor."
"I don't understand, love. Why must we go? What is coming?"
"The end of the world," she said.
"This is madness!" the king shouted. "I've heard this before. I for one am not going anywhere! My place is with my people, and my people's place is here!"
"Jaina," Uther said softly, "what are you saying? How can we leave our homes, our families? You're not thinking clearly, girl."
"I am, Uther!" Jaina replied. "You were there. You heard what that man told me. We must go! We have no chance here!"
"Preposterous," Terenas was saying. "We will not leave. Lordaeron does not run from its enemies!"
"Then you can stay if you want," Jaina said coldly. "Your choice is already made, after all. I am going, with any who will follow me."
"You are not going anywhere," Proudmoore said. Jaina looked at him. "I don't know what has gotten into you, Jaina. First you disappear, and now you want to leave forever? I forbid it. This is a fool's errand, and my daughter will not be part of it!"
"But-"
"No!" He turned and motioned to his servants, who moved towards the door. "King Terenas, I thank you for your hospitality, brief though my visit has been. I," he grabbed Jaina's arm, "and my daughter, will now return to the Majesty. We will depart at dawn. I am sorry to have inconvenienced you." He pulled Jaina towards the door.
Outside, thunder clapped. The sky had grown dark. A storm was coming.
***