Anduin knew there was a full moon, but the heavy clouds obscured any light it might have provided. The guards bore lanterns, but the illumination was feeble. Fire would have been no use whatsoever in the deluge. Anduin gasped when his feet sank ankle - deep in water so cold he could feel it even through his heavy but now sodden boots. His eyes were adjusting to the dimness, and he realized that the entire area was covered with water. It was not too deep—not yet.
Lights were on at the inn and the mill, and there was more shouting, barely heard over the tremendous pounding of the rain and thunder. The inn was on a slight hill, but the mill was now several inches deep in water.
"Lieutenant Aden!" Jaina cried, and a mounted soldier wheeled his steed and splashed toward her. "We're opening the doors of the citadel to anyone who needs refuge. Bring them in!"
"Aye. my lady!" Aden shouted back. He yanked on the head of his horse and headed for the mill.
Jaina paused for a moment and lifted her hands to the sky, then moved her hands and fingers. Anduin couldn't hear what she said, but her mouth was moving. A heartbeat later, he gasped as the image of a giant dragon head appeared beside her. It opened its jaws and breathed a sheet of flame across the water, evaporating a large patch. Of course, the water rushed in again to fill the void, but the dragon head seemed tireless. It continued to breathe fire, and Jaina nodded in satisfaction.
"To the docks!" she cried to Anduin, and he followed her, gamely running as fast as he could through the water. It grew deeper as the ground sloped downward. Up ahead, Anduin saw a sight that might have been humorous at any other time but now only contributed to the chaos: All the gryphons had flown to perch atop various buildings. Their wings and fur were drenched, and they cawed defiantly at the flight masters who were alternately railing at them and pleading with them to "Please, come down!"
The water was up to Anduin's knees now, and he, Jaina, and the guards were grimly slogging their way forward. People, like the gryphons, had gotten to the highest ground possible. Their instincts were sound, but the lightning was furious and frequent, and what had seemed like wisdom at first was now revealed as potentially even more dangerous. Anduin and the guards were now helping frightened merchants and their families climb down to safety.
Anduin was starting to shiver. His cloak and boots were sturdy, but they were never meant to keep him warm or dry while actually in water. The water was utterly frigid, and he couldn't feel his legs below his knees. Still, he pressed onward. People were in trouble, and he had to help them.
He had just opened his arms to receive a sobbing little girl when a lightning bolt turned night into day. He had been looking over the girl's shoulder as she clung to him in the direction of the docks and saw a bright white zigzag strike the wooden pier. A deafening clap of thunder came immediately afterward, along with the horrible sound of people screaming and the groaning of shattered wood. Two ships that had been docked there rocked violently, tossed about as if by an angry giant child.
The girl shrieked in his ear and clutched his neck as if trying to strangle him. There was another flash of lightning, and it looked to Anduin as if a giant wave had come out of the sea, almost like a hand about to slam down on the docks. Anduin blinked, trying to clear his vision from the rain pouring like a river down his face. He couldn't be seeing what he thought he was, he simply couldn't.
Another nearly blinding flash, and the strange wave had disappeared.
So had the Theramore docks and the two ships. He had seen what he thought he had after all. The lightning had sheared off most of the Theramore docks, the ocean had completed the task, and now he could even glimpse fire despite the pummeling of the rain.
Jaina grabbed his shoulder and placed her mouth next to Anduin's ear. "Take her back to the citadel!"
He nodded and spat out rainwater in order to speak. "I'll come right back!"
"No! This is too dangerous!" Jaina again yelled in order to be heard over the storm. "Go and take care of the refugees!"
Anger and impotent frustration suddenly welled up in Anduin. He wasn't a child. He had strong arms and a calm head; he could help, dammit! But he also knew Jaina was right. He was heir to the throne of Stormwind, and he had a responsibility not to put himself foolishly in harm's way. With a muttered curse he turned back toward the citadel, wading through the icy water.
He was past shaking by the time he slogged into the citadel, where some of the servants were busily wrapping blankets around the flood victims and offering hot tea and food. Anduin carefully turned over the child to an older woman who rushed up to take her. He knew that he was drenched, that he needed to change out of the wet clothes, but he just couldn't seem to move to do so. One of Jaina's assistants looked up at him, did a double take, and frowned at his expression. Anduin stared back, chilled to the bone, blinking almost stupidly. In a distant part of his brain, he realized he was probably going into shock.
"Wish I had Fearbreaker," he murmured. He was dimly aware of the servant pulling him into a side room, helping him out of the sodden clothes and thrusting a too - large shirt and pair of pants at him. Before Anduin quite realized what had happened, he was wrapped in a rough but warm blanket in front of the fire with a mug of hot tea in his hand. The servant vanished—there were many others who needed immediate care. After a few moments Anduin began shivering violently, and after a few moments more, he began thinking about the idea of perhaps being in the vicinity of being warm.
After a while he felt well enough to be of help, rather than simply taking up a spot on the floor. He went to his room, threw on his own clothing, and returned to help others as he had been helped, providing hot liquids and blankets and taking their soggy clothes to hang up on lines quickly strung about the rooms.
The rain did not let up. The waters rose, despite Jaina's dragon head trying to keep them at bay. Jaina was pushing herself well past the point of exhaustion, renewing the spell every few minutes, issuing orders, and aiding the refugees. As the waters climbed, more and more people sought refuge in the citadel, sitting on the wooden floors of its many stories. Eventually Anduin was fairly certain that the citadel, the guard quarters, and the inn housed everyone who lived in Theramore.
Finally, toward dusk of the second day, Jaina resigned herself to sitting down and eating and drinking something. She had changed clothes several times, and this current change of clothing was now sopping wet. Anduin drew a seat for her by the fire in her small, cozy room and brought her some tea. Jaina was shaking so badly that the cup rattled in the saucer as she lifted bloodshot, exhausted eyes to him.
"I think you need to return home. There's no knowing when the flooding is going to stop, and I can't risk your safety."
Anduin looked unhappy. "I can help," he said. "I won't do anything foolish, Jaina, you know I won't."
She reached out as if to tousle his blond hair but seemed too weak to complete the gesture. Her hand fell limply into her lap, and she sighed.
"Well, it's not as if you'd see your father," she murmured, taking a sip of tea.
"What do you mean?"
Jaina froze, the cup halfway to the saucer. She lifted wide eyes to Anduin, and he saw the look of someone desperately searching for a comforting falsehood but too exhausted mentally to find it.
"What about my father? Where is he?" And then he knew. He stared at her, horrified. "He's going to attack Ironforge, isn't he?"
"Anduin," Jaina began, "Moira is a tyrant. She—"
"Moira? Come on, Aunt Jaina, you have to tell me what he's doing!"