"It was not your skill in battle that killed your opponent. It was the poison of an evil schemer who sought to destroy an adversary and used you, like a pawn, to do so. Do you know what has happened in Thunder Bluff?
While you were out celebrating?"
Garrosh did not want to hear. He stared at the blade, but Eitrigg pressed on.
"Grimtotem assassins have taken over Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, and other tauren strongholds. The teachers, the powerful shaman, and druids and warriors—all dead. Innocent tauren slaughtered in their sleep.
Baine Bloodhoof is missing and is probably dead, too. Blood pours from a peaceful city, because you were too full of pride to notice what was happening literally right in front of your eyes!"
Garrosh had been listening in increasing horror, and now he bellowed, "Enough! Silence, old one!" They stood there staring at one another.
And then something broke in Garrosh. "She robbed me of my honor," he said quietly. "She took my kill from me. I will never know now if I would have been strong enough to defeat Cairne Bloodhoof in a fair fight. Eitrigg, you must believe me!"
For the first time that night, the old orc’s eyes held a glimmer of sympathy. "I do, Garrosh. No one has ever questioned your honor in battle. If Cairne knew what was happening to him as he died, I believe he knew you were not to blame. But know that doubt has been sown here tonight. Doubt that you fought fairly—and they are speaking of it, in hushed whispers. Not everyone is as understanding as I and Cairne Bloodhoof."
Garrosh stared again at the blood - and poison - coated weapon he bore. Magatha had stolen his honor. Had stolen his respect in the eyes of the Horde he so loved. She had used him, used Gorehowl, too, a weapon his father had once wielded. It had been coated with poison, the coward's weapon. It, too, had been dishonored. And Magatha, in performing such a base, deceitful act, had spat in the face of her shamanic traditions. And Eitrigg was telling him that there were some who believed he would willingly be involved in this?
No! He would show Vol'jin and any others who voiced their lies exactly what he thought of them. He closed his eyes, clenched his hand on the hilt of Gorehowl, and let the rage take him.
Twenty seven
Jaina's first instinct upon seeing Anduin materialize so unexpectedly, almost literally in front of her, had been to contact his father. While Moira had been doing an excellent job of keeping a tight hold over communication going in and out of Ironforge, complete isolation was difficult to obtain. Rumors had begun circulating after only a day. Varian had immediately tried to contact his son by sending urgent letters. When they were not answered, he had become both worried and angry.
Jaina was not a parent, but she had an idea of what Varian was going through, both as the father of a son he had only recently reunited with and as a king fearing for the security of his kingdom. But more urgent than putting Variants fears to rest had been the calming of a potentially explosive situation. Sometimes politics began and ended with two people. While she had never met Baine, his reputation preceded him. She had certainly known, respected, and liked his father. Baine had come to her, risking everything, trusting that she would aid him. Jaina did know Anduin, quite well, and knew that if the initial shock and suspicion could be quelled, productive conversation would ensue.
And so she had assuaged their fears, and gotten them to speak, both to her and each other. The news each bore was dreadful in its own way. Baine spoke of the murder of his father at the hands of Garrosh and Magatha and the ensuing slaughter of a peaceful people in one of the bloodiest coups Jaina had ever heard of. And Anduin spoke of a returning daughter whose rightful claim to the throne did nothing to mitigate the fear at the utterly tyrannical way she had swept into a city and taken away the liberties of its citizens.
Both, each in his own way, were fugitives. Jaina had made the promise to keep them safe and support them however she could, though the plans as to how exactly she would do that had not yet been formed.
Now voices were growing hoarse from speaking, and heads, including Jaina's own, were starting to nod. But she felt good about what they had done here. Baine had told her that those who had accompanied him would be expecting his return, and if it did not happen, they would likely assume treachery. Jaina had understood; she would have assumed the same. She opened a portal to the site he requested, and he stepped through, leaving Anduin and Jaina alone.
"That was…"Anduin struggled for words. "I feel so bad for him."
"I do, too… and for all those poor tauren in Thunder Bluff and Bloodhoof Village and all the other sites that came under attack. And Thrall… I don't know what he's going to do when he gets the news." It would crack the orc's noble heart, she knew. And indirectly, it was all because of his decision to appoint Garrosh as leader in his absence. Thrall would be devastated.
She sighed and shook it off, turning to Anduin and giving him the affectionate hug she'd not given him upon his arrival. "I'm so very glad you're safe!"
"Thanks, Aunt Jaina," he said, returning the hug and then pulling back. "My father… can I talk to him?"
"Of course," Jaina said. "Come with me."
The walls of Jaina's small, cozy room were, not surprisingly, lined with books. She stepped up to one shelf and touched three of them in a particular order. Anduin gaped as the bookshelf slid aside to reveal what looked like a simple oval mirror hanging on the wall. He closed his mouth as he caught a glimpse of his own reflection; he looked rather idiotic staring with his jaw open.
Jaina didn't appear to notice. She murmured an incantation and waved her hands, and the reflection of Anduin, Jaina, and the room disappeared. In its place was a swirling blue mist.
"I hope he is nearby," Jaina said, frowning a little. 'Varian?"
A long, tense moment passed, then the blue mist seemed to take on a shape. A topknot of brown hair, features in a lighter shade of blue, a scar crossing the face—
"Anduin!" cried Varian Wrynn.
Jaina could not help but smile, despite the direness of the situation, at the love and relief in Varian's voice and expression.
Anduin was grinning. "Hello, Father."
"I’ve heard rumors…. How did—of course, the hearthstone," said Varian, answering his own question. "Jaina—I owe you a tremendous debt of thanks. You may have saved Anduin's life."
"It was his own cleverness that made him remember to use it," Jaina demurred. "I just gave him the tool."
"Anduin… did that witch of a dwarf hurt you?" Varian's dark brows drew together. "If she did, I will—"
"No, no," Anduin hastened to assure his father. "And I don't think she would. I'm too necessary to her. Let me tell you what happened."
He filled his father in on all that had transpired, quickly, concisely, and accurately. They were almost the exact same words he had used earlier to Baine and Jaina. Not for the first time Jaina found herself admiring the cool head on the young man's shoulders, especially given the fact that he—along with Jaina herself—was operating on very little sleep and under extremely tense circumstances.
"So you see, her claim is legitimate," Anduin finished.
"Not that of empress," Varian retorted.
"Well, no. But princess, yes, and queen, once she's had a formal coronation. She doesn't have to be doing this… trapping everyone like this."
"No," the king replied. "No. She doesn't." His eyes flickered to Jaina. "Jaina, I'm not about to tip my hand to Moira and let it be known that Anduin escaped successfully. Let her stew for a bit. That means I have a favor to ask."
"Of course he can stay here with me," Jaina replied before he could even voice the question. "No one's seen him yet, and the few who will are completely trustworthy. Whenever you're ready for him to come home, just let Anduin nodded. He had been expecting such a decision, but Jaina saw a flicker of disappointment cross his face. She didn't blame him for it. Anyone in his position would have wanted to go home and be done with all this.