Standing beside Jaina, Kalec whispered, “Do you need this?”
Jaina did not answer.
Tyrande smiled warmly at Alexstrasza, making a low bow. “Life-Binder. I will endeavor to make your testimony as painless as possible.”
“You are kind,” Alexstrasza replied. “I am grateful.”
Tyrande took a deep breath. “This witness needs no introduction. Even the celestials know of her.”
“With respect, I protest,” said Baine. “Unless the witness can give evidence directly against Garrosh Hellscream, I implore that she be asked to step down.”
Tyrande said, “Fa’shua, Garrosh Hellscream received important and influential assistance from one clan in particular—the Dragonmaw clan. I wish to show you the sort of people with whom Garrosh allied himself in recent times.”
“Fa’shua,” Baine interjected, “we all have—most of us have, anyway—kept poor company from time to time. What the Dragonmaw clan did in the past is irrelevant.”
“Chu’shao Bloodhoof’s point is accurate,” said Taran Zhu.
“Yes, but it is not the whole story,” Tyrande replied. “The Dragonmaw enslaved and continue to enslave and torment dragons. They did so under Garrosh’s reign, and I think this witness highly appropriate.”
Taran Zhu nodded, satisfied. “I agree with the Accuser. You may continue your examination.”
“Life-Binder, you and your people were kidnapped and imprisoned by the Dragonmaw at one time, correct?”
“Yes,” Alexstrasza said. She was, Jaina thought, remarkably calm.
“Can you tell us how this happened?”
“The Dragonmaw had gotten ahold of the Demon Soul, an artifact that was used to control dragonkind. They followed a wounded male to our home, and used the Demon Soul to capture three of my consorts and me—though not without a fight.”
“What happened then?”
“Nekros, the master of the Demon Soul, ordered my flight and me to follow him to Grim Batol.”
“What did they want with you?”
“They wished us to serve them as mounts in their war against the Alliance. To . . . ride us into battle, and have us attack their foes.”
“Surely, some red dragons fell in these battles. How did the Dragonmaw replace them?”
“They took my children from me, as I laid each clutch.”
Jaina bit her lower lip in sympathy. She did not have children, nor was she likely to. She adored her “nephew” Anduin. And she had been devastated at the death of her apprentice, Kinndy. But she knew that even those great affections were nothing compared to the parent-child bond. To be the mother of creatures that were magical, life affirming, and all but immortal, and to see them enslaved—she had no idea how Alexstrasza could bear such a thing. Glancing over at the celestials, she could see that even they, who had listened with attentive and kind detachment, were moved.
“Forgive me for the personal nature of these questions.”
“I understand why you ask them.”
Tyrande looked grateful, and Jaina realized that astonishingly it was the Dragonqueen who was comforting the night elf high priestess in this moment. Jaina shook her head in wonder.
“You said ‘each’ clutch,” Tyrande resumed. “How was it you laid more than one? Why would you willingly continue to conceive children, knowing they would be taken?”
“I refused, at first,” Alexstrasza said. “I told them they had one clutch; I would not give them any more. Nor would my mates agree. Nekros . . . Nekros took one of my eggs, held it before my face, and crushed it between his hands. He . . . spattered me with it.”
Her voice broke and she paused, composing herself for a moment, then continued. “I cried out in anguish—my unhatched child, murdered before my eyes, my body adorned with its gore . . . Despite the chains that bound me, I attacked the orcs, wounding several of them before they subdued me.”
“So you did what they wanted.”
“Not right away. I refused food, trying to die before I would produce more children for them to torture. They destroyed another egg. After that . . . I did what they wanted.” She smiled sadly. “You see, if my children lived—I had hope that they could perhaps one day be freed.”
Jaina’s hand went to her mouth in sympathetic horror. She’d known about this brutal part of orcish history, of course, but hearing Alexstrasza tell it . . .
In this moment, Jaina found she agreed with Kalec about the Vision of Time. Hearing the story was upsetting enough. She was grateful beyond words that Tyrande had refrained from showing it.
“Other lives were lost too, were they not?”
“Yes. Eventually, three of my four consorts were slain.”
Jaina glanced over at Vereesa. The high elf sat as if she were carved out of stone. Only her quickened breathing gave away the intensity of her emotions.
“So despite you and your consorts agreeing to these horrific demands, you were not treated with care by your captors?”
“No. I was kept in chains. Even my jaw was in a brace, so that I could not attack them. If any of us resisted or struggled to free ourselves, they would use the Demon Soul against us. It was”—and Alexstrasza gave a faint shudder at the recollection—“unspeakably painful.”
“Would you like to take a respite?” Tyrande asked gently.
The Dragonqueen shook her great horned head. “I would prefer to finish and be done with the retelling,” she replied. Her mellifluous voice was strained.
“You produced red dragons for them to use, as they demanded,” Tyrande said. “How were they so used?”
Alexstrasza gazed down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap. “They were ridden into battle, like beasts, and their abilities were harnessed to kill members of the Alliance. Any rebellion on their part would lead to torment and possibly the deaths of their unhatched brothers and sisters.”
“How would a red dragon, in particular, feel about being forced to perform such acts?”
Alexstrasza lifted her head, and could not disguise the pain in her voice when she spoke. “We revere life, all life,” she said. “We abhor the taking of it. The Dragonmaw could not possibly have forced us to do anything that appalled us more.”
Tyrande nodded, as if satisfied, and turned to face the spectators. “As leader of the Horde, Garrosh Hellscream willingly and knowingly allied with the Dragonmaw clan and their methods of obtaining mounts. You have heard what they have done to the most benevolent race on the face of our world.”
She began to walk, counting off on her fingers as she had after Vol’jin’s testimony. “Enslavement. Torture. Forced pregnancy. The abduction of children. The killing of prisoners. Five counts are laid against Garrosh, once again, by the evidence of a single witness.”
Tyrande spared a moment to regard Garrosh, then turned back to Alexstrasza. “Thank you,” the night elf said. Then, to Baine, she said, “Your witness.”
Baine rose and approached the Dragonqueen. Jaina frowned and said to Kalec, “Doesn’t it bother you that he’s going to question her after that?”
“I wish she hadn’t had to speak at all,” he replied. “But the Life-Binder is strong, and has suffered far worse than words in a courtroom. She does what she must. So does Baine.”
“He doesn’t have to do this,” Jaina hissed. This time, it was Kalec who did not reply. Jaina leaned forward, watching intently, propping her chin in her hands. She’d thought better of Baine. But watching him during this trial, she just couldn’t understand how he could defend Garrosh, especially when it required such cruelty. Couldn’t understand any of it.