Before the Storm

by Christie Golden

  Baine had expressed his sympathies about Varian’s death, reminding Anduin that he, too, had lost a father. The initial reports from Genn Greymane and others were that Sylvanas had betrayed them, abandoning Varian and presumably every other member of the Alliance, to die when she retreated with no warning from the Broken Shore. Baine, who had been there, had told Anduin a different story. Another wave of demons had appeared, he said, and Sylvanas reported that a dying Vol’jin had ordered her to sound the retreat.

  Had Baine lied to him?

  No. Anduin’s heart was sore, but there was no warning of danger or deceit from his once-shattered bones. Baine had told the truth as he knew it. Yet no one but Sylvanas, it seemed, had actually heard the order from Vol’jin.

  I will not let Sylvanas tarnish my faith in Baine, he thought resolutely. With a deep sigh, he rose and tossed the letter into the fire, watching as the flames flared brightly and reduced the parchment to a blackened writhing ball and then to ashes.

  “Did Perith accept my letter?” Anduin asked, forcing his voice to be calm and level.

  “No,” Valeera replied. Another gut punch. “He thought it would endanger his chieftain. There are eyes upon him.”

  “Perith is very wise,” Anduin replied.

  “But he said he would tell Baine what the letter said.”

  “I had so hoped that Baine would support my plan.”

  “He may yet.”

  “Or he may do nothing that smacks of disloyalty. I can’t blame him. I’d do the same. A leader who jeopardizes his people is no leader at all.” Anduin kept his gaze on the flames.

  Valeera stepped beside him. “There is one thing more,” she said. “Baine wanted you to have this.”

  She extended her hand. A small piece of what looked like bone, no larger than Anduin’s fingernail, rested in her gloved palm. It took Anduin a few seconds to comprehend what he was looking at, and when he did, his breath caught.

  This was a piece of Baine’s horn, chipped off in an offering of respect and friendship.

  His hand closed slowly around it.

  “I’m sorry, Anduin. I know what a disappointment this is.”

  She did, too. He looked down at her, smiling sadly, recalling the days not so long ago when she was much taller than he was.

  “I know,” he said. “And I thank you for it. For everything. It seems each passing day reduces the number of people I can rely on.”

  “I hope you will always count me among that group,” Valeera said.

  “Never doubt that,” Anduin assured her.

  Her eyes searched his for a moment. “You are a kind person, Anduin. It’s in your nature to think the best of people. But you’re also a king,” Valeera said quietly. “You cannot afford to trust unwisely.”

  “No,” he agreed sadly. “I can’t.”

  They stood by the fire in silence for a long time.

  SILITHUS

  The two moons were out tonight. Sapphronetta Flivvers, peering up at them after a long day of travel and setting up camp, said to her companion, “You know, they’re really very beautiful.”

  The night elf Sentinel, Cordressa Briarbow, said, “Do you know their names?”

  Heat came into the gnome’s round face. “Um…one of them is the Blue…ah…something.” At the night elf’s soft chuckle, Saffy blushed even more deeply. Her former husband had always told her how cute she was when she blushed, which Saffy detested and which made her flush—not blush!—with anger whenever he said it. Which of course just made him happier.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve spent almost my whole life underground or in a lab, you see. I’m afraid I don’t get outside very much.”

  “You are well versed in so very many things I could never understand, Sapphronetta,” Cordressa said gently. “No one can know everything.”

  “Try telling that to my ex-husband.”

  Again the soft chuckle. “The moons are named the Blue Child and the White Lady, the Child’s mother. The White Lady has different names. My people call her Elune. The tauren call her Mu’sha. Once every 430 years, something truly marvelous occurs. The moons align with one another, and for a few precious, glorious moments it looks as though the Lady is holding her Child. Our world is bathed in a blue-white radiance, and time itself seems to stand still if you look upon it with an open heart.”

  Gazing at the beautiful orbs, Saffy let out a soft breath of awe. “When did it last happen?” she asked, wondering if she’d learned this interesting tidbit in time to witness the event.

  “Five years ago.”

  Saffy’s face fell. “Oh,” she said. “Guess I probably won’t be around to see it.”

  The long-lived elf, who probably would be around to see it, did not reply. “But you can see them both now in the beautiful, clear sky of the desert.”

  That was probably the first time Saffy had heard the word “beautiful” to describe anything concerning Silithus. Even before it had a gargantuan sword sticking out of it, by all accounts it was a hideous place. Her gaze traveled to the sword now. It was hard to miss. Not only was it humongous, but it was surrounded by a creepy aura of red light, so it was an eyesore at any time of day and night. The black monstrosity had been plunged halfway into the poor ground. Steaming fissures had been revealed, yielding the mysterious Azerite in its two forms—fluid and hardened blue-gold chunks. Saffy was more than a little frustrated that Mekkatorque and Brann Bronzebeard had sent her off on the expedition before she’d had a chance to actually touch the stuff. Their notes were useful, but she couldn’t wait to see—and feel—the substance herself.

  And the desert that surrounded the sword was hot, filled with insects of all shapes and sizes, cultists, mysterious things lurking in ruins…that was beautiful?

  Well, all right, Saffy could agree that the sky was beautiful. She sneaked a glance upward at her companion, her face upturned and bathed with light as she smiled slightly. Other members of the Explorers’ League, too, had paused to regard the pair of moons. Again Saffy looked up at them as well. How could they be so placid, the Blue Child and the White Lady? Just—sailing through the night sky, blissfully unaware that below them a giant sword was sticking out of the world!

  That was when Saffy realized she’d spoken out loud. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Expecting laughter or chastisement for her outburst, she was surprised when Cordressa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, having to stoop to do so.

  “You but say what we all think,” she said. “Their peace is enviable. But we know better. In a way, I envy the druids of the Cenarion Circle and the shaman of the Earthen Ring. They are looking at means to help Azeroth directly. That must be very gratifying.”

  Now it was Saffy’s turn to reassure the night elf. “The Explorers’ League has a role here, too. Last time things went bad in this place, it’s because something very old got riled up.”

  She stabbed a finger in the direction of the sword. “Magni told us that Azeroth was hurting. But we also don’t know how deep that thing goes; what Sargeras might have disturbed or awoken that’s also contributing to her distress. And this time, we’re walking right into an area that we know to be dangerous. High Priestess Tyrande and you are helping Azeroth by protecting us.”

  Us. It was Saffy’s first expedition, though she’d been a consultant member back at the Hall of Explorers for a while. The whole thing was terribly exciting, though that was tempered by the proximity of so many goblins.

  Cordressa smiled down at her. “I have not worked much with your people,” she said. “But if you are a typical representative of the gnomes, I clearly need to rectify that.”

  Saffy blushed again. “We all just do what we can,” she said. She had been tapped because she was a well-recognized geologist specializing in mineralogy. The archaeologists on the team would be looking for Old Gods, an
cient doomsday technology—the usual sorts of things. Saffy had been brought into the mix specifically to study Azerite.

  Provided they could actually get to any Azerite. The goblins—oh, how she hated goblins—were squatting on the visible seams of the stuff and conducting eye-hurtingly ugly mining forays. For the last two days, the league members had stayed safely away, observing with the telescopes and various contraptions with which Mekkatorque had furnished them.

  Frustrating and crude as this method was, Saffy already had learned a great deal from her observation. For one thing, Azerite was liquid when it bled from the earth, turning solid only when it was exposed to air. Fascinating!

  The other thing was that the ground near the sword was warm all the time, not just during daylight hours. Deserts had wildly fluctuating temperatures, from scorching in the day, to if not exactly chilly at least considerably colder at night. Not Silithus, not now.

  Saffy was itching to get her hands on more of the material. She’d been added to the team after the Stormwind king had visited Ironforge, leaving with them only a small chunk to study. The next task would be to send out scouts to obtain more samples of Azerite, preferably from a variety of locales. Then Saffy would get to do what she loved to do: analyze, study, and understand.

  It pained—physically pained—her to think about all those goblins messing around with this precious substance. The only value it had to them was how they could “transmute” gold liquid into gold coins. Goblins. How could anyone stand doing business with them? Filthy things. It was all about the boom and the flash and the noise, not the science of it all.

  “Your thoughts are not happy ones, Sapphronetta,” Cordressa said. Saffy realized that although her face was still turned up to the moons, she was scowling. “Come. Let us eat something. Then some of my sister Sentinels will stay and guard you while you sleep.”

  “Some?”

  The night elf smiled, her eyes glowing in the darkness as brightly as the moons did. “Some. And some others will begin the first scouting mission.”

  That made sense. The kaldorei were called night elves for a reason other than the twilight hues of their skin and hair. They were used to hunting in the nighttime hours.

  Saffy was thrilled. “Maybe you will return with some samples I can study!”

  “Maybe, although I expect samples will come later. You must cultivate patience. More likely, we will return tonight with information on the enemy’s numbers and locations. Maybe intel on their plans, too.” Smiling impishly, she tapped one long purple ear. “Not only do we see well, we hear well, too.”

  Saffy laughed.

  * * *

  —

  Dinner, as was always the case whenever dwarves were involved, was hearty, stick-to-your-ribs fare washed down with plenty of beer. Saffy didn’t want to think too hard about what was “beer basted” out here. She’d heard one of the Sentinels talking fondly about the gooey spider legs she’d grown up on, and that had been quite enough.

  After the meal, two Sentinels, including Cordressa, slipped quietly out into the warm night. The leader of the expedition, Gavvin Stoutarm, gathered the five members of the league and addressed them.

  “We’re a tight-knit bunch,” he said, “an’ we’re nae too accustomed tae night elves bein’ part o’ our number.” Although the Explorers’ League was open to all races of the Alliance, it seemed to appeal mostly to humans and dwarves, with the odd gnome or worgen showing up now and then. Night elves were a rare sight, as they were usually against disturbing the earth for the purpose of removing artifacts from where they lay hidden.

  “I’m proud o’ how ye all have interacted wi’ ’em. We’re all on this poor world together, an’ we’re all pullin’ together. No offense tae other guards we’ve had, but I fer one will be sleepin’ sounder than usual tonight.”

  “Och, Gavvin, ye’ll be sleepin’ sounder because ye drank about six pints o’ brew!”

  Guffaws filled the night air, with Gavvin Stoutarm, who certainly had indulged his thirst, laughing the loudest. “Off tae yer bedrolls wi’ ye,” he said.

  Despite the reassuring words, Saffy found sleep elusive. She tossed and turned, first in her bedroll and then on it—it was so terribly hot—and then back in it because she realized that outside the bedroll meant insects. And sand.

  She huddled, sweltering, listening to the loud nighttime sounds of four dwarves snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. It was a good thing there were Sentinels standing guard, she thought. Stoutarm’s wheezing and snorting otherwise would have brought the goblins down on them in droves just to shut him up.

  Saffy must have been more tired than she thought. Somewhere between the snores and the insects and the heat and the sand, she drifted off to sleep.

  She awoke to the hideous sound of goblin bellowing, the crack of rifles, and the clang of steel against steel. Bolting upright, struggling to escape the confining swaths of fabric, Saffy went for the pistol she kept under her pillow and scrambled to her feet. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as she glanced about frantically, barely able to take in the scene playing out before her.

  The moons’ light, so pleasant and calming earlier, now seemed cold and uncaring as it illuminated the bodies of two dead Sentinels. Their blood looked black in the pale blue light, and the glow had fled their eyes, leaving them dark pools of shadow. There was another body, too—a body Saffy didn’t want to look at for fear the panic that was clawing at the back of her brain would swoop to the forefront and shut down her ability to think, Saffy, think—

  Her former husband had insisted that she have a weapon. She told him she’d take a lab over an arsenal any day, but right now she wished she’d practiced with the thing. Why hadn’t she taken her Lightning Blast 3000 with her? She’d actually gotten it working—

  Saffy gripped the pistol with small, shaking hands, jerking it around toward the noise of each new horror that unfolded. Loud, fierce dwarven swearing brought a rush of joyful tears to her eyes. Gavvin Stoutarm, at least, was still alive and kicking—and punching, and biting, from the angry sound of a squealing goblin.

  The gnome’s soft mouth set in a hard line. She forced her hands to stop shaking and focused not on the awful, gut-wrenching sounds her friends made as they were fighting and—

  —dying, Saffy, they’re dying—

  —and she pointed the pistol at a squat, large-eared shape that was blotting out the horizon’s stars.

  She squeezed the trigger. There was a gratifying shout of pain. The resulting boom had knocked her back, and she scrambled to her feet only to discover to her horror that the goblin hadn’t been dispatched but was merely enraged.

  “Why, you little—”

  Saffy fired again, but this time the shot went wide as the dark shape reached out and seized her arm. He squeezed it hard, and with a gasp of fear and fury the mineralogist was forced to drop the gun.

  “Hey! Kezzig, that’s a gnome lady!”

  “Yeah,” Saffy’s assailant said, making a fist and drawing back his arm, “and I’m gonna punch the living—oh.” The fist paused in midmotion. “Maybe she’s not the right one.”

  “She fits the description perfectly. You know the rules.”

  “Yeah, yeah, stupid rules,” the goblin named Kezzig muttered. He lowered his fist. Saffy took the opportunity to squirm, simultaneously attempting to twist free and bite the muscled arm.

  Kezzig shrieked in pain but didn’t release her. “Okay, you little spitfire, all bets are off.”

  The last thing Sapphronetta Flivvers saw was a huge, dark fist silhouetted against the too-calm, too-dispassionate night sky.

  The sense of peace that stole over Anduin as he entered the Netherlight Temple was balm to a spirit still wounded from Valeera’s news regarding Baine. It felt as if someone had tucked a thick, warm blanket around him whi
le he lay cold and shivering. He smiled softly to himself and once again marveled at the Light’s ability to comfort.

  Archbishop Faol glanced up from an old tome he’d been perusing as Anduin approached. The glow in his dead eyes increased with pleasure, and his lips twisted in a smile.

  “Anduin!” he exclaimed in that curiously warm voice, obviously remembering that the king of Stormwind had asked him not to use the formal title. “I had not expected to see you again quite so soon. Sit down, sit down!” He gestured to a chair beside him.

  Anduin returned the Forsaken’s smile with one of his own, accepting the offered seat. Even as he did so, he mentally shook his head. Sitting comfortably beside a Forsaken. It was something he’d never really thought would happen.

  If only everyone could experience the peace of the Netherlight Temple, he thought. Maybe then we’d stop trying to kill one another.

  Faol chuckled, that raspy sound, as of two pieces of parchment rubbing together. “Tell me all about your visit to Teldrassil.”

  A blood elf priest approached with a bottle of fruit nectar and a glass. Anduin thanked him. Pouring, he said, “The night elves can always be relied on to care for the world. By the time I visited Darnassus, they had already dispatched several groups of priestesses and druids into Silithus to create moonwells.”

  “Ah, moonwells. I never saw one while I lived, and, well, I try not to get wet these days. But I hear they are sights to behold.”

  “They are. If the kaldorei are successful, this could help Azeroth greatly. They are also sending Sentinels to accompany less militaristic organizations such as the Explorers’ League.”

  “This all sounds quite positive,” Faol said.

  “It is,” Anduin said. “But I think we can do more. I’m going to emulate the night elves and send along some of Stormwind’s finest as well. What’s happening to the world…we can’t afford to lose those who might be able to find a solution to it. I thought I would come back and see how your priests were doing in spreading the word.”