Stubbornly, Garrosh refused to surrender to what seemed to be certain death. Still clutching his father’s weapon, he used the sinking wreckage to his advantage, climbing up piece by piece as each one drifted. His lungs burned but he continued on, his face up toward the light until at last he burst through the surface and gasped sweet air, coughing violently.
Hands reached down and pulled him up, guiding him toward rope ladder that had been tossed down the side of one of the ships—he knew not which—and, still holding Gorehowl, hauled himself up until he stumbled onto the deck.
“Warchief!” It was Malkorok, who had also survived. The two clasped each other’s arms.
“V-Varian,” gasped Garrosh. “What of him?”
“I know not,” Malkorok said. “But look!”
Still coughing up seawater, Garrosh turned to gaze where Malkorok was pointing, and pride swelled inside him.
Everywhere he looked, Alliance ships were broken, burning, or desperately engaged in attacking the kraken. The water was littered with the debris of dozens of vessels. Garrosh threw back his head, roaring his victory.
“Behold the might of the Horde!” he cried. “Four ships against dozens! And it is we who triumph! For the Horde! For the Horde!”
• • •
Kalecgos held Jaina gently in his right forepaw, while she cradled the Focusing Iris next to her body. They headed north. Jaina was unsure why she wished so fiercely to see the Horde capital, but Kalec clearly trusted her change of heart and did not speak a word of objection. Did she want to reassure herself that there were indeed still innocents there and her choice was the right one? Did she wish to see if she could somehow spy Garrosh and blast him to pieces? She was uncertain.
Below them, following obediently and keeping pace with the swift flight of the dragon, were the bound water elementals. She could summon and dismiss them as she wished; Kalec had not asked for the Focusing Iris back, either. Jaina was more grateful for his unspoken, and apparently unshakable, trust in her than he could ever know.
Up they went, past the Echo Isles and the aptly named Scuttle Coast, where Jaina summoned a few angry, out-of-control elementals to join with their kin. The wreckage, though old, saddened and angered her, and she wished she knew where Varian had chosen to direct the Alliance attack.
As they approached Bladefist Bay, Jaina gasped, her eyes wide with shock and horror. The fleet—she had thought it would be attacking Feathermoon Stronghold or Darkshore, but it was here. Here… and under attack.
I would have destroyed the fleet, she thought. If I had sent the tidal wave… I would have destroyed both Orgrimmar and the whole Alliance fleet…
Nausea swept over her, and gratitude to both Thrall and Kalecgos. But now was not the time to feel faint and weak. She had to act. For the fleet was not under attack from mere Horde warships—Garrosh, it would seem, had summoned kraken to dispatch the fleet for him. As he had done with the molten giants in Northwatch Hold and the mana bomb in Theramore, he was acting in a cowardly and dominating fashion—wrenching the natural world or magic artifacts to obey him.
“Fly closer!” she called to Kalecgos. Kalec folded his wings and dove, opening them just in time and almost anointing them with seawater as he skimmed swiftly over the waves. Jaina held the Focusing Iris close with one arm and, murmuring the incantation, moved the fingers of her free hand.
• • •
Varian shoved the soaking mass of wet hair back out of eyes that stung from seawater. He clung to the wreckage of a ship—which one, he didn’t even know—and tried to assess the situation.
So many ships had gone down, victims of the angry embrace of the kraken. He had watched, helpless, as sailors made it to the surface and struck out for shore or ship, only to have a gleaming, slimy tentacle reach out and pull them down into the creature’s hungry maw.
He had no idea what had happened to Telda, or the white-haired warlock, or indeed any of the brave crew of the Lion of the Waves. Bitterly he amended that. It wasn’t entirely true. He knew, had seen impotently, that some of them had met their violent ends. He could only hope that Garrosh and that hulking Blackrock orc were keeping those good people company in the bellies of some kraken.
A few ships were still intact and firing upon the sea beasts. But Light, there were so many of the cursed things, and each one wreaked such horror. Screams and the sounds of cracking timber filled the air. He recognized panic and despair trying to overcome him, and ruthlessly pushed the useless feelings back. They would not serve him now; even anger would not serve him now. He leaped to another remnant of a ship, his eyes now fastened on one of the few surviving vessels. He would be an easy target for a misplaced cannonball from one of his own ships, and only a morsel for a kraken. But he was one man and did not attract the notice of the great monsters, and by sheer will he made his way close enough to the ship called the Ocean’s Lady. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out.
A worgen racing about on the deck heard him, sharp ears swiveling. He loped over to the side of the ship and leaned over, waving one of his powerful lupine arms. “Majesty! We’ll send someone to—”
“Retreat! Now!” Varian shouted. If they stayed and fought the kraken, all that would remain of the once-mighty Alliance fleet would be a list of names and grieving families. “Those are my orders! Retreat, every last one of you!”
“We can send out a—”
“No! I’ll make it to shore, as will the rest of us,” Varian cried. “Take the ships and get to safety while you can!”
The worgen looked stricken and flattened his ears unhappily, but nodded. A few moments later, the Ocean’s Lady began to turn slowly to port—heading east, back home to Stormwind.
But the kraken would not let them. As Varian watched, unable to stop it, the kraken followed the fleeing ships. The Horde victory would be complete after all.
Varian arched his back and let out a primal howl of fury and grief. This could not—should not—be happening! There had only been four ships! And yet Garrosh had won again.
Varian would not, as he had reassured the worgen, go quietly ashore, to live to fight another day. He would have done so if the fleet had survived. But now—now there was nothing left. No hope. Only a glorious death, achieved while taking as many of the enemy with him as possible. The kraken would not feast solely on Alliance flesh.
He still had Shalamayne, and now he drew it, clutching it tightly. He looked around, searching for any Horde fighter who, like Varian, had found reprieve in a piece of a broken ship. There—there, a sodden tauren was clinging to a curved chunk of wood that looked like part of a hull. He was attempting to clamber up atop it but failing. Snarling, Varian sprang, catlike, landing squarely on the floating debris, and brought his blade down. Blood spurted up, pattering him and adding a copper tang to the salty taste that was in his mouth.
One.
The king of Stormwind searched for another target. At that moment, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and saw the silhouette of—
A dragon?
The water around him surged upward, taking on form and shape. It bobbed up and down on the waves, a blue-green being with a small head, baleful eyes, and two manacled arms. A water elemental—no, no, hundreds of them, all suddenly dancing atop the surface of the ocean.
They flung themselves on the kraken attacking the Alliance fleet. One of the monsters had surfaced so that its huge flat eyes were visible, and it let out a horrific, eerie wail as it was set upon by dozens of determined elementals. Varian suddenly leaped clear as a frantic tentacle slammed down on the water with an ear-splitting crack. Realizing he was safer in the ocean than on its surface, Varian filled his lungs and dove.
It was an astounding spectacle. The gargantuan kraken flailed with their massive tentacles while the smaller elementals swarmed around them. Incongruously pretty ribbons of dark red began to tinge the water as the elementals literally ripped the kraken apart. Varian swam away from the wreckage, into more open water. Anoth
er kraken struggled for its life, its sluggish brain no doubt more surprised than fearful that anything would dare to attack it. Still another floated on the surface, two of its limbs bobbing near it.
Varian’s lungs burned and he struck upward, swimming strongly. As he broke the surface and gulped in air, he was suddenly seized and borne aloft. He started to struggle, but a familiar voice called out to him.
“Varian!”
Of course—the water elementals… He turned in the grip of the blue dragon to see her clasped in the leviathan’s other forepaw. Her white hair was whipped about by the wind, and her eyes still had the strange arcane glow. But there was something about her—a sorrow, a resignation on her face, and yet a sort of peace that had not been there previously.
She pointed down, and he shook his head at the spectacle. There was not a single Horde ship, although he could now see that plenty of them were gathered on the shore, thinking to take the battle there if any stragglers survived. The kraken—fully eight of them—were no longer a threat. Their massive corpses bobbed on the waves, glistening in the sunlight. Varian felt a stab of loss as he saw how many ships the grotesque creatures had destroyed, but many yet remained.
Still obedient to Jaina’s will, the water elementals, tiny from this vantage point, awaited their new commands.
“You attacked the kraken,” Varian said. “Not Orgrimmar.”
“No,” Jaina said. “Not Orgrimmar.”
He smiled faintly. “You saved the fleet, Jaina. Thank you. And now, if this good dragon will set me down on one of my ships—on to Northwatch!”
27
The remains of the Alliance fleet sailed into the waters of the Merchant Coast unhindered. It seemed that Garrosh had indeed been taken completely unawares by the attack on Bladefist Bay, and the four ships that had attacked the fleet had been summoned from their no doubt relaxed postings at Northwatch. Without the kraken at its command, the Horde was no match for the Alliance fleet, damaged as it had been.
Still, that did not mean that the Horde would give up without a fight. There had been time to get word to those who manned Northwatch, and Varian’s ships were greeted by the thundering of cannons and catapulted boulders.
“Return fire!” ordered Varian. Obediently the volley of cannonballs from the shore was met by those from the Alliance ships.
Overhead, Varian could see Kalecgos approaching. The dragon dove, and Varian saw Jaina perched atop the broad blue back. Kalecgos opened his massive jaws and breathed blue mist, and suddenly the volley of cannon fire ceased.
The catapults and ballistae continued to press their attack. Varian rushed to the side of the ship, peering through his spyglass. He smiled. Garrosh had been arrogant. He had left only a very few to guard this key site, so confident had he been that his blockade of port cities in Kalimdor would break the Alliance.
He blinked as he saw several Horde soldiers clamber into small boats and push out to sea. For a moment, Varian thought they were trying to flee—then he realized they were heading straight for the nearest ship.
“By the Light,” he muttered, “they mean to come aboard!”
It was suicide. He could not help but admire their courage, as troll and orc and tauren waved their weapons and shouted their defiance in the guttural Orcish tongue. Their bows and spells were not entirely ineffective, either—Varian saw several Alliance sailors topple to the deck with arrows in their throats, and others who were incinerated on the spot. The sails of the ship caught fire from a bolt that had killed one of the night elf sailors. Again the great shadow of the dragon fell as cold breath put out the flames.
And then, with no warning, dozens of water elementals formed at once. They rushed the small boats, easily overturning them, their manacled arms seizing the enemy and gleefully hauling the struggling Horde members down to a watery death. Other elementals swarmed ashore, targeting the attackers. There were cries of alarm and Varian saw a few orcs and trolls flee. But most of them stood their ground, snarling defiance and fighting to the last as arrows, cannon fire, and spells did their work.
There was silence for a long moment; then cheers went up from the Alliance vessels. Varian grinned, letting them enjoy this second victory, then shouted, “Ashore! The standard of the Alliance will fly once more over Northwatch Hold!”
Boats were lowered, filled with happy crewmen and -women. Varian frowned to himself, then looked up. Kalec was hovering overhead. Varian waved his arms broadly, then pointed to the shore. The dragon’s head dipped in acknowledgment. Varian hastened to one of the boats, to the honor and surprise of the crew.
By the time Varian reached the shore, lithely leaping out of the boat, Kalecgos had landed and transformed into his bipedal form. Jaina stood beside him. Varian strode up to both of them and offered his hand to each in turn.
“Twice today, the two of you have helped save the Alliance,” he said. “We have regained a lost foothold in Kalimdor.”
“I am glad to have been of help,” Jaina said simply. “What now?”
“Something Garrosh will know to expect,” Varian said, giving her a wicked grin. Jaina looked confused. “I’ve made no secret that I intend to bring the fleet to the various blockades. After the trouncing they’ve just received, and the loss of Northwatch, Garrosh is going to pull in tight. Which means we’ll get our ports back without further loss of Alliance life.” He sobered. “We took a beating ourselves,” he said. “Those kraken would have wiped out the fleet if you hadn’t arrived in time. And with Theramore, Northwatch, and the fleet destroyed…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to think what would have happened to the Alliance.”
Now Jaina looked uncomfortable. “About some of the things I said to you and Anduin…,” she said, but Varian held up a hand.
“I am,” he said wryly, “perhaps the absolute last person to stand in judgment of behavior stemming from anger or a desire for revenge. And Anduin has been praying for you. I will be glad to tell him his prayers have been answered.”
“Thank you,” Jaina said sincerely.
“And you? What is next for you?” Varian inquired. He looked at both of them, and Kalec turned to Jaina.
“Theramore,” she said quietly.
Varian nodded. “When we’re done cleaning up here, I’ll send a ship to Theramore. To… take care of things.”
Jaina simply nodded. “I would be grateful. They deserve no less.” She looked up at Kalecgos. “Let’s go.”
• • •
Garrosh saw the Alliance standard snapping in the breeze over Northwatch even as he pushed his laboring wolf to get there in time. Furious, he yanked his wolf to a halt, threw back his head, and screamed his fury. Wisely, Malkorok, Baine, and Vol’jin did not attempt to calm him down.
“How could this happen?” demanded Garrosh, his small golden-brown eyes staring at each of them. “We had every advantage! I destroyed Theramore to break their spirits. I trapped their people in blockades. I sent molten giants and even monsters of the deep after them, and still this happens!”
One of Baine’s Longwalkers approached at a swift lope, then slowed, clearly loath to be the proverbial bearer of bad tidings. Baine nodded that he should proceed. The wary tauren knelt in front of—but not too close to—Garrosh.
“Warchief, I bring news from Northwatch,” the Longwalker said.
“I can see the news from Northwatch,” Garrosh snapped, pointing at the blue-and-white standard in the distance.
The tauren continued. “There is further news, overheard by sharp ears.” Garrosh made a visible effort to calm himself and waved for the messenger to proceed. “Varian intends for the fleet to sail to break the blockade. There are still ample ships remaining for the Alliance to be a threat to our captured ports. Sources reporting in seem to confirm this intention.”
Garrosh leaped from his dire wolf, which actually darted back a step, ears flat. He reached for the Longwalker, grabbing him by the arm. “What sources?” he demanded.
“Garrosh,” said
Baine, his voice heavy with warning, “release my Longwalker. He will better be able to speak if he does not fear being attacked for bringing the truth.”
The look that Garrosh shot Baine could have pierced armor, but the warchief saw the sense in this. He let go of the Longwalker’s arm. “What sources?” he repeated.
“Druids have flown from Bladefist Bay, reporting that the Alliance fleet is heading out to break the blockade.”
For a moment, Baine almost felt sorry for Garrosh. The orc’s fury turned to visible pain and he sagged, as if all the life and passion had suddenly been bled out of him. At last, he said to Malkorok, “Order a full retreat. In our state, we cannot risk a battle on multiple fronts.”
Malkorok’s face was carefully blank as he replied, “As my warchief commands.” He kicked his dire wolf and hurried off to speak with several other Kor’kron, who glanced back over their shoulders as Malkorok delivered the news.
“My thanks for your message,” Baine told the Longwalker. “Go and eat, and have your wounds tended to.” The other tauren bowed and gratefully left to obey. Baine turned to Garrosh. “I commend you, Warchief.”
Garrosh looked at him askance. “Why?”
“For recognizing the folly of this path. This war was ill advised, and I am pleased that you have turned from—”
“I have not ‘turned from’ anything, tauren, and you tread on dangerous ground,” Garrosh said warningly. “For someone with such large ears, you still manage to misunderstand what you hear. I do not intend to end this war. I intend to escalate it. This retreat is a regrouping, a reassessment of strategy—not a surrender to the ‘power’ of the Alliance!”
Baine attempted to hide his dismay. Beside him, Vol’jin did the same.
“We need to do more,” Garrosh said, turning away from Baine and pacing as he spoke, clenching and unclenching his hands. Malkorok finished his conversation and returned to stand at attention while Garrosh continued. “More ships. More weapons. More elementals and beasts and demons obeying our commands. More soldiers need to be conscripted. Male, female, child—they can all contribute to the glory of the Horde.”
Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War Page 31
