"Camp Taurajo has not fallen to the Grimtotem, has it, Stormsong?"
The Grimtotem shook his head. "No. Our main targets were Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, Sun Rock Retreat, and Camp Mojache."
"Then we head for Camp Taurajo and hope it has not become a secondary target. We can arrange transportation from there."
"Transportation where?" Stormsong asked.
Baine's eyes were hard as he urged the kodo he rode to greater speed. His heart was full with the missing of his father and the anger he bore toward the Grimtotem for the bloodshed this night.
"I do not know," he said honestly. "But I know this. My father will be avenged, and I will not rest until the Grimtotem have been revealed for the traitors they are. My father permitted them to live with us, though they refused to join the Horde. Now I will expel them from every aspect of tauren society. This, I vow."
Baine had not traveled much outside of Mulgore in the last few years, and he had forgotten just how open and exposed the aptly named Barrens were. Jorn Skyseer greeted them and brought them into the camp, making sure the orc guards were not alerted. Baine did not know yet whom he could trust. They gathered together in the back of one of the great lodges: Baine; the four braves who had come with him from Bloodhoof Village; the recovering Hamuul Runetotem, who had a bitter tale to tell of an attack on a peaceful druidic gathering; and the defector, Stormsong. Jorn joined them, earning a tray of food—apples, watermelon, Mulgore spice bread, and
chunks of cooked meat.
Baine nodded his thanks to the hunter. He took a bite of fruit and regarded Hamuul. "I trust your word, Hamuul, and that of Stormsong, Grimtotem though he is. It is cruel that our leader betrays us so, whereas my trust must fall to an old enemy."
Stormsong lowered his muzzle. It was awkward for him to be here, but he was gradually winning the respect and trust of Baine and those around him.
"I do not know what Garrosh knew of the attack, but I do know that it was an oversight that I survived." Hamuul said. "They left me for dead, and I nearly was. As for the challenge," and he eyed Stormsong, "Garrosh may have consented to the use of the poison, he may not. It does not matter. Magatha has what she wanted—control of Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, probably Camp Mojache, and unless we stop her soon, all the tauren."
"But not Sun Rock," Jorn said quietly. "They have sent a runner. They were able to repel the attack."
Baine nodded. It was good news, but far from sufficient. Baine growled softly and forced himself to eat. He needed to keep his strength up, although his stomach did not wish the food.
"Archdruid, my father ever trusted your advice. I have never been in more need of it than now. What do we do now? How do we fight her?"
Hamuul sighed, thinking. A long silence fell. "From what we can learn, most of the tauren are now controlled by Magatha—willingly or not. Garrosh might be innocent of treachery, but he is most certainly a hothead, and one way or another he wished your father dead." Baine took a deep breath, and Hamuul gave him a compassionate look before continuing. "The Undercity is not safe for you, not patrolled as it is by orcs likely loyal to Garrosh.
The Darkspear trolls are likely trustworthy, but they are not many. And as for the blood elves, they are much too far away to offer any aid. Garrosh will likely reach them before we could."
Baine laughed without humor and gestured at Stormsong. "So it seems that our enemies are more trustworthy than our friends," he said drily.
Hamuul was forced to agree, nodding. "Or at least more accessible."
A thought struck Baine, daring and dangerous. As his father had taught him, he sat with the thought for a long moment, turning it over in his head rather than simply blurting it out. Finally he spoke.
"I will take an honorable enemy over a dishonorable friend every time," he said quietly. "So let us go to an honorable enemy. We will seek out the woman Thrall trusted."
He looked at them each in turn, seeing dawning comprehension on the long - muzzled faces.
"We will go to Lady Jaina Proudmoore."
Twenty three
Have you ever gone on a vision quest, Go'el?" Geyah asked one night as they shared a simple meal of clefthoof stew and bread. Thrall ate hungrily; the day had been long and intensely wearying, emotionally and physically.
He had spent the day not communing with or aiding the elementals of this land, but destroying them.
Thrall understood that very few elemental spirits were balanced and in harmony with themselves and the other elements. Some were in true alignment with their natures, chaotic though those natures might be. Others were sometimes sick and corrupted. Often, a gentle but firm hand could bring them back into line. But sometimes the entities were too damaged. One such had been the little spark in Orgrimmar, who would not listen to reason, or even to begging.
The shaman could not be selfish. They must always show honor and respect for the elementals, to ask humbly for their aid and be grateful when it was offered. But they also had a responsibility to protect the world from harm, and if that harm came from an uncontrollable elemental, their duty was clear.
And Outland was apparently overrun with them.
Aggra had leaped into the fray with the surety of one who had done this dozens, perhaps hundreds of times. She took no joy in the task, but neither did she hesitate to defend herself or him, her charge, even if she would rather he was not so. It was a bitter fight, Thrall thought, a shaman using the power of a healthy elemental to slay its tainted… brethren? Peers? He was not sure of the word, only that it made his heart ache to watch it. In the back of his mind was the nagging question: Is this the future of Azeroth's elementals? And is there nothing lean do to prevent it?
He turned to Geyah, to answer her question. "When I was young, and under Drek'Thar's tutelage, I met the elements," Thrall said. "I fasted and did not drink for a full day. Drek’Thar took me to a certain area, and I waited until the elements approached me. I asked each of them a question, as part of my test, and pledged myself to their service. It was… very powerful."
Aggra and Geyah exchanged glances. "That is well," said Geyah, "though not a traditional rite of passage. Drek’Thar did the best he could under challenging circumstances. He was one of only a handful left, and when you came to him, the Frostwolves were too busy simply trying to survive, and so he could not prepare a traditional vision quest for you. You have done well on your own, Go'el, astonishingly well, but perhaps now that you have come back to your homeland to learn, it is time for you to have a proper ritual quest."
Aggra was nodding. She looked solemn and did not regard him with her usual barely concealed disdain. In fact, quite the opposite—she seemed almost to have acquired a new respect for him, if her body language was any indication.
"I will do what I must," Thrall said. "Do you think it is because I have not had this particular rite that I am not learning what I have come here to learn?"
"The vision quest is about self - knowledge," Aggra said. "Perhaps you need that before you are ready to accept other knowledge."
It was hard not to take umbrage at her slightest word. "More than most I am self - made," he said stiffly. "I think I have learned a great deal about myself already."
"And yet the mighty Slave cannot find what he seeks," said Aggra, tensing slightly.
"Peace, the two of you," Geyah said mildly, though she was frowning. "The worlds are in enough chaos without two shaman sniping at one another. Aggra, you speak your mind, and that is well, but perhaps holding your tongue from time to time might be a good exercise for you. And, Go'el, surely you admit that anyone, even the warchief of the Horde, would benefit from knowing himself better."