Shandris was not impressed. “Whatever they have in mind, I will be ready for it.”
Tyrande put a motherly hand on Shandris’s shoulder. “You know my faith in you is absolute. But I have come to a decision. I will be joining you. I will be leading this expedition.”
The other night elf did not show any disappointment, only understanding. “You also had to make promises to some of our allies, promises that require you to go to Ashenvale to see them through.”
“Your ‘eyes’ are as good as ever. I only agreed to most of that a little bit ago.”
“It makes sense, especially if we need to keep them from arguing among themselves.” Shandris held up a parchment that she had brought with her. “As I thought anyway that it would be the case, I have got all you need jotted down here. Might be good if we go over it.”
The high priestess smiled proudly. “Thank you, Shandris.”
“Thank me if we survive this.” The younger night elf moved to the table and spread the parchment open. It proved much larger than it had first appeared, and there was hardly an empty space upon it. Shandris had made the most use of the parchment, and with necessity. The reinforcing of Ashenvale required great consideration . . . and all of it quickly.
And as Tyrande bent over the parchment and started to listen to her adopted daughter, she prayed to the Mother Moon that there would be time enough.
Varian caught wind of the worgen long before he saw the first. He knew that they could not smell his scent yet, for the wind blew toward him. The king also knew that they did not hear him, either, despite their acute senses. The curse might have given the Gilneans heightened senses, but they had not had the years to hone them as he had. They were still basically who they had been, while he had a lifetime of experience.
Those who accompanied Genn included other surviving members of the nobility, male and female. However, in addition, favored officers and Genn’s own personal staff and guards would also be included in the “royal” hunt. Aside from Genn, the guards would be the ones that Varian would have to watch out for most. Although the Gilnean monarch was their first priority, in what was considered a safe land the soldiers would also probably have some leeway in pursuing the prey. That meant that Varian would actually be competing against several rivals . . . which suited him just fine.
Varian had only one real reason for following. Malfurion’s plot had had the opposite effect. Varian had decided to take the archdruid’s suggestion and use it to embarrass Genn in front of his own people. The Gilneans would see that their vaunted leader was still a failure who would only bring them to further ruin.
The idea that, by shaming Genn, Varian wanted to assuage his own sense of failure had crept into the lord of Stormwind’s mind, but he had quickly and soundly buried that thought deep. All that mattered was putting the king of Gilneas in his place.
A sleek form darted among the trees to his left. One of the younger worgen. Varian used the momentary observation to judge the creatures. The worgen moved more fluidly than he had first estimated, but the king saw flaws of which he could take advantage.
The worgen glanced back at him. Initial surprise gave way to a reaction Varian found odd. The long ears of the other hunter straightened and Varian had the sense that not only was the worgen studying him, he was also seeing something that was not readily apparent to the king. The worgen briefly ducked his head low as he ran, a sign that Varian had recognized among Genn’s followers as one of respect for a pack member of higher status.
The young worgen vanished among the trees, but not because he outpaced the lord of Stormwind. Varian ran as quickly and with as much litheness as his momentary companion. He bared his teeth as he imagined the nearby pack pursuing its prey, and increased his pace in order to better his chances of joining the chase before it was too late. He knew that the pack would not hunt too far apart from one another. Their lupine tendencies would make the worgen follow certain traits that Varian understood very well.
Genn Greymane would rue his audacity, the younger monarch decided with much satisfaction. Better if he had stayed in hiding, something he’s good at.
The brush ahead shook. Varian immediately froze.
A doe rushed past him. She was small, barely adult. Varian could smell her surprise and fear. He almost fired, then held off. He had no time for his own hunt, no matter how much the urge to give chase swelled within him. What Varian wanted was to follow Genn’s prey and show that he could take it even when his rival knew that he was there.
Varian slipped behind a tree just as another worgen burst through in pursuit of the doe. The king recognized the worgen’s markings: Eadrik. Genn’s servant moved with more assurance than the other male Varian had seen, not a surprise. Genn would have the best around him, as any monarch would.
Eadrik paused. The worgen sniffed the air. Varian watched as the other hunter turned his direction.
A slight movement in the opposite direction caught Eadrik’s attention. The doe, acting only on her instincts and unable to meld those with common sense, had chosen an inopportune time to begin running again.
The worgen lunged after her. Varian waited for a moment, then stepped from the tree. If Eadrik was here, the lord of Stormwind considered, then his master could not be far.
The bow once again ready, Varian moved in the direction from which Eadrik had come. The worgen hunted as a pack to a point. Being also men, those like Genn would seek their individual kills.
Varian retraced Eadrik’s path, moving through the brush as readily as the worgen. His eyes constantly surveyed the vicinity and his ears and nose sought signs of his prey.
And at last he saw a worgen who could only be the Gilnean king. Genn flung himself after a massive boar with tusks so sharp and strong that, if the animal turned to face the worgen, Genn would truly risk death. At the moment, though, the boar thought only of flight.
Genn, however, was fast gaining. He ran sometimes on only his legs, but other times used his hands too. With a litheness that Varian had not even seen from the much younger Eadrik, the veteran ruler closed on the boar.
Having measured the situation, Varian entered the fray. Although without the “benefit” of the curse, he moved with all the skill and pace of one who had survived more critical struggles than surely all the worgen combined. Yet, it was more than merely the reflexes of a former gladiator that served Varian now. Another force guided him, drove him in among the worgen as if he were one of their own and not simply a man. Others in the past had called him Lo’Gosh . . . and, at that moment, that name was more true of him than the one with which he had been born.
Growls greeted him as he moved out into the open. Two raven-black worgen—one a female with a narrower snout—leapt toward him from the trees beyond Genn. Their appearance did not surprise Varian. He had already marked them as guards.
Ahead, Genn’s ears pricked up as he heard the warning growls. He glanced to his side and saw Varian with the bow.
Varian purposely ignored his rival, instead following the boar’s trail. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Genn’s sudden understanding of just what the lord of Stormwind intended.
With a challenging growl, Genn pulled up. Only then did Varian also stop.
“So . . . ,” snarled the worgen. “You’ve come to prove yourself my better after all?”
“I’ll always be your better, Genn.”
“Rubbish! You can only imagine the powers that the curse has given us, powers beyond mere humans, powers—”
“Powers to outbrag anything,” interjected Varian. “At least, that’s all I’ve seen thus far!”
The other two worgen neared. Genn angrily waved them off. “Don’t know why I ever sought your approval for our people! If the rest of the Alliance chooses to follow you down your doomed path, then so be it!”