"There's no tapping," Rohan persisted inexorably. "It's… over. No one could have survived that. Come away, lad. Ye've done all ye could an' then some."
"No!" shrieked Anduin, lashing out with his arm and barely missing Rohan. 'You don't know that! We can't just give up! They're not answering because they're wounded, maybe unconscious. We have to hurry—have to get them out—have to get her out…."
Rohan stood quietly by, making no further attempt to stop the young human prince. Anduin, tears flooding down his face, kept going, for how long, he did not know. Stone after stone he moved, until his slender shoulders screamed in white - hot agony, until his hands bled furiously and numbed and cramped until finally he crumpled on the snowy stone and sobbed violently. He reached one hand out, palm flat, trying to contact his friend, who was trapped beneath the implacable stone hurled upon her by the violently agitated earth.
"Aerin," he whispered, for her ears alone, wherever she might be. "Aerin… I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry…."
Now he did not resist the gentle hands slipping about his exhausted body and lifting him up. He accepted, unable to fight anymore, his heart hurting and his body too drained to protest. The last thing he knew before merciful unconsciousness finally claimed him was the gentle touch of gnarled hands upon his heart and forehead, and the soft voice of Rohan telling him to rest now, rest and heal.
And the last thing he saw in his mind's eye was a cheerful dwarven face framed by brown hair, smiling, as Aerin always was, and in his heart always would be.
Fourteen
Magni looked older than Anduin had ever seen him.
In the two days since the disaster at the distillery, Anduin had learned that those who had fallen at Kharanos had had a great deal of company. The quake had not been localized. It had shaken towns throughout Khaz Modan. Part of Menethil Harbor now lay at the bottom of the ocean, and excavation sites from Uldaman to Loch Modan had been buried, at least partially. It had gone from being a localized incident to a national crisis.
The tragedy had aged the dwarven king, but there was a determination in his eyes that told anyone who looked into them that Magni Bronzebeard would not be kept down. He glanced up as Anduin entered the High Seat and waved him forward, not with the enthusiasm he had displayed on the first occasion, but with blunt command. Anduin hastened to the king's side.
"I dinna wish to act precipitously," Magni began, "but by th' Light, now I wish I had. We might have been able to save all those lives. Including Aerin's."
Anduin swallowed hard. A service for the Khaz Modan dead had been conducted yesterday. It was harder to sit through than the one in Stormwind had been; that was a commemoration of many thousands of lives lost over along period of time. Anduin had mourned the death of his friend Bolvar Fordragon, but the loss had been many months old by the time of the service. The loss of Aerin was new and raw and, dammit, hurt so badly.… He focused his attention on Magni's words.
"I—don't understand," he said. "This is about the tablet?"
"Och, aye," Magni said. "I've been pushing th' translators and they're pretty sure as to what the tablet says. Let me read tae ye." He cleared his throat and bent closer, his eyes flickering over the strange letters. His heavily
accented voice deepened as he read the formal, archaic - sounding words aloud.
"'An' here are the why an' the how, tae again become one wi' the mountain. For behold, we are earthen, o' the land, and its soul is ours, its pain is ours, its heartbeat is ours. We sing its song an' weep fer its beauty. For who wouldna wish tae return home? That is the why, 0 children o' the earth.
'"Here is the how. Go ye tae the heart o' the earth. Find ye these herbs three: mountain silversage, black lotus, and ghost mushroom. Wi' a finger's pinch o' the soil that nourished them, consume the draft. Speak these words wi' true intent, an' the mountain shall reply. And so it shall be that ye shall become as ye once were. Ye shall return home, and ye shall become one with the mountain."'
He turned his intense gaze to Anduin. "Do ye see?"
Anduin thought so. "I… think so… this—this rite will let you speak to Azeroth itself?"
"It seems so, aye. An' if we can talk tae Azeroth itself, then we can ask what th' bloody Nether is going on wi' it. Help find a way tae—tae fix it, tae heal it somehow. An' maybe then there'll be nae more o' these unnatural floods an' droughts an'… and earthquakes. Anduin—there's more goin' on here than a simple cave - in. Summat big is happening. Did ye know that reports o' tremors are coming in from as far awa' as Teldrassil?"
"That… shouldn't be possible… should it?"
Magni shook his head. "Not normally, no. 'Tis not how such things work… not naturally, at any rate."
Anduin was silent for a moment, thinking. Something occurred to him. "But… aren't some of those herbs toxic if ingested?"
"That's why they want ye tae take it wi' soil," said Magni. "Certain soils neutralize certain poisons. Dinna worry, I've checked wi' the top herbalists in Ironforge. I've no desire tae keel over clutching me throat."
Anduin stared. 'You? You're going to try this? This sounds like something a shaman should do."
"Nay, lad. 'Tis me realm that is hardest hit. 'Tis the dwarves who are suffering the most. I lead them. We are the children of the titans, lad. We are already of the earth, more than any other race. It's right that I be the one to do this. Besides, what kind o' a king would I be, tae let others face the danger o' th' unknown while I cowered in safely? That's nae the way o' the dwarves, lad."
"Nor would it be my father's way," Anduin said, realizing the words were true as he spoke them.
"No, it wouldna be Varian's way either," Magni agreed. "Now, the scholars have agreed that it should work right here in Ironforge. I'll just need tae go as deep as I can, right tae the heart o' the earth." He smiled a little at Anduin. "Not everyone knows about th' secret places, but I think ye can be trusted. Ye've th' stout heart o' one of our own, lad, even though ye're reed thin an' far too delicate, bein' a human stripling."
Anduin found himself smiling a little, something that two days ago he wondered if he'd ever be able to do. Aerin would be the first to chide him for being such a sad fellow, he knew. "Aerin promised to dwarf - temper me," he said, his voice catching a little, but still surprisingly light.
"Ah," Magni said, giving him a smile tinged with sorrow. "I'd say she did, from what I see before me."
Anduin swallowed again.
"Now," Magni said, "I've sent for some herbalists tae gather th' necessary ingredients. All should be ready tae do this tomorrow morning."
"So soon?"
"Aye. the sooner the better, I think. Azeroth had better start talking tae me, so that I can do what I can to take care of it. Do ye not agree?"
Anduin nodded. Light alone knew if there would be any more aftershocks.
Anduin started to head back to his rooms, but instead found his feet taking him to the Hall of Mysteries. He had avoided it for the past two days. For some reason he didn't want to see Rohan again. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he felt he had failed the high priest in the effort to save lives. Maybe because of how angry he had been at Rohan when he had tried to urge Anduin to come away from the wreckage. But now he stood before the hall, took a deep breath, and went inside. At once, as always, the Light offered comfort. Even so, he still did not wish to speak with anyone, and ascended to the upper level where there were fewer people. At one point he heard a soft voice and winced slightly as he recognized it as Rohan's. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed, hoping that the dwarf wouldn't notice him. He heard the tread of feet approach and then fall silent, and a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.