Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War

13

“I suspect, little miss apprentice,” Kalec said as he stared at the small pieces on the table, “that you are intimately familiar with the nuances of this game.”

Kinndy’s large eyes grew even larger in feigned innocence. “Me? Oh, hardly! Tervosh only taught it to me last week.” The dragon lifted his blue gaze from the game pieces on the board and quirked an indigo eyebrow. Her expression dissolved into a grin. “Well,” she said, “there might be a reason no one else will play with me anymore.”

“So I’m simply fresh blood?”

“Mmmm,” Kinndy said noncommittally. Kalec was just about to move the knight when he heard the familiar sound of a teleportation spell. He turned, the game forgotten, as Jaina materialized in her parlor. She was smiling, an expression Kalec had not often seen on her face, and he said a silent thanks to whoever or whatever had caused it.

“Your parents,” Jaina said to Kinndy, “are the nicest people in Azeroth. And the most generous.” She handed Kinndy a box of pastries from the bag. Kinndy opened it to reveal a staggering variety—small cakes, individual pies, éclairs, puffs, all manner of delicious-appearing delights.

“So, how did it go?” asked Kinndy, taking a bite of something frosted and divine-smelling.

Jaina’s expression sobered. She slipped into her own chair and poured some tea. “Not well,” she confessed. “But I think I did manage to change a few minds. Don’t look so downcast,” she added as Kinndy slumped a bit in her seat. “They haven’t given me their decision on it yet. Which means there’s going to be more debate and discussion. The tide may yet turn. Regardless, it was a good idea, Kinndy.”

“It would be a better idea if a whole bunch of the Kirin Tor had come back with you,” Kinndy said.

“I cannot argue that point,” Jaina replied, “but I will take what I can get. And what I can get are berry pastries.”

“I am glad to see that you do not feel that all of the sweetness has gone out of the world,” Kalec said, helping himself to one. “But I regret that the meeting was not more positive.”

Jaina waved a sugared hand. “I will not worry until I hear one way or the other,” she said. “But I would not object if you had some good news about the situation here.”

“If only I did,” Kalec said, meaning the words with his whole heart. “The Horde continues to wait on our doorstep, careful not to advance. And unfortunately the Focusing Iris is still on its tour of Kalimdor at speeds that astonish me.”

Kinndy was watching them both as she ate her pastry, and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go finish this upstairs in my room,” she said. “There’s a book there I’ve been meaning to get to. I might learn something that could help.”

She placed her tea and pastry on a tray and with no further word trundled off. Jaina raised a golden eyebrow, and her forehead furrowed in confusion.

“What do you think that was all about?” she asked.

“I’ve no idea,” responded Kalec. It was not entirely the truth. He did have a suspicion as to why the gnome wished to leave the two of them alone… but he had no desire to dwell on it.

She turned to him, eyeing him curiously. “Why are you here, Kalecgos of the blue dragonflight?”

For no reason he could understand, the question made him uncomfortable. “I’m looking for—”

“The Focusing Iris, I know. That may be what brought you here, but… why do you stay? You could pick any place in the continent to wait for the Focusing Iris to slow and stabilize, yet you linger here.”

Kalec felt heat rise in his cheeks. It was a simple question: Why did he linger here, rather than seek silence in the wilderness? He could sense the magical object he had come in search of easily enough elsewhere. Yet here he stayed, learning to play chess with a gnome, discussing military tactics with a night elf, the nature of the arcane with Tervosh and—

Jaina.

He stayed because of Jaina.

She was looking at him expectantly, one slender hand tucking a stray lock of golden hair behind her ear, her head tilted in a quizzical expression, that distinctive furrow of curiosity creasing a brow that was otherwise remarkably unmarred for a human of her age.

She wanted an answer, and he could not give her one. At least, not one that was true. And as he opened his mouth for a glib fabrication, he found he did not wish to lie to her.

“There are several reasons,” he said, looking away.

Jaina leaned forward. “Oh?”

“Well… you are a master of magic among your people, Jaina. I feel comfortable with you. Maybe I want to stay with the younger races because my people persecuted yours. With no real right to do so other than a vaguely worded statement about being the minders of magic. So very many died in the Nexus War, among both dragonkind and the younger races. They died needlessly and brutally.” His blue eyes met hers, and this time it was she who had to look away. “I suppose I feel I owe it to you to help. And…” He smiled a little, knowing that this much, at least, was true. “You’re good company.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Jaina said.

“I don’t.” His voice was soft, and he realized it trembled. He wanted to place his hand over hers but did not dare. Kalecgos was himself unsure of what drove this interest in Lady Jaina Proudmoore, mage. He needed to know exactly what he did feel, and why, before he even ventured to inquire if she felt the same way.

Probably not, he thought. Malygos had been responsible for starting the Nexus War. His goal had been to direct arcane energy away from everywhere but his own realm. It was good-hearted enough of her to seem to want to be his friend. He didn’t want to risk asking for anything more, especially now, with an attack poised to happen right on her doorstep.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Jaina said flippantly. Kalec felt a surge of anger at whoever or whatever had made her think so disparagingly of herself. Was it Kael’thas? Arthas? Her father, whom she had so bravely stood against when all logic and all emotion doubtless cried out that she should not? There was a sorrow in her eyes, one that had not come from news of imminent battle—a sorrow that had been there since the moment he arrived. A sorrow he longed to chase away.

She needed him right now. The Kirin Tor would likely turn their backs on her, abandon Theramore to fall beneath the wave of orc, troll, tauren, Forsaken, goblin, and blood elf. In his mind’s eye, he saw Jaina standing alone, wielding startlingly powerful magic, her strong face all the more beautiful in her fierce determination to defend her city.

But all the skill in the world, if wielded only by a single person, could not stand against such odds. Theramore would fall, and Jaina with it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, he sensed a slight tingling of magic in the air. Jaina’s eyes widened and she leaped to her feet, hurrying to tap the three books in their special order. The bookcase slid back to reveal the mirror pulsing with mist.

“Speak,” Jaina said in a voice tremulous with hope.

At the command, the mist in the mirror took on the shape of a human male face.

Archmage Rhonin.

“You are a very persuasive woman, Lady,” said Rhonin. “While the Kirin Tor feels very strongly that we should remain impartial, your plea moved us to action. Even Aethas Sunreaver voted in favor of rendering aid. It seems that to not assist you against such tremendous opposition would be to tacitly support the Horde. At least, that’s the logic he used.”

“Please tell Archmage Aethas that his logic is deeply appreciated,” Jaina said. Her slim body was quivering as she forcibly kept her composure. She looked as though she was struggling not to leap for joy. Kalec knew he wanted to.

“I and several others will be arriving shortly to lend our assistance in the defense of Theramore. I stress the word ‘defense.’ We will protect, but we will make no offensive moves. Our greatest hope is that our presence will serve as a deterrent. Is this fully understood?”

“Quite fully, Archmage. It is my hope as well that somehow we can find a peaceful solution.”

Rhonin sighed, dropping his formerly stern mien. “I suspect we’re all just whistling in the dark, but we’ll be damned if we sit by and twiddle our thumbs. Expect us shortly.”

The image faded. There was a final swirl of magical blue mist, and then the mirror placidly reflected only Jaina and Kalecgos.

Jaina sagged with relief. “Thank the Light,” she murmured. “They will get here in time, even if—” She shook her head, as if to chase away the negative thought that Varian’s fleet might not arrive in time. She smiled radiantly, and Kalec’s heart jumped in his chest.

He wanted to speak. But he couldn’t. The inner voice—of wisdom or fear, he knew not which—spoke and said, No. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Kalec was aware of what he had to do—for both of them. And the knowing was like a knife in his gut.

“I am very glad indeed,” he said. “They will protect Theramore as well as I could, perhaps better.”

Some of her exuberance subsided. “Could?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You have reminded me of a duty I must perform. Now that I know you have allies, I am going to do another sweep of the continent, to see if perhaps I can close in on the Focusing Iris.”

“I see. Of course, that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled briskly, and the sorrow returned to her eyes. Doubtless because she felt that he was abandoning her.

Which I am, he thought sickly. But it is for her own good. He knew if he stayed, he would be unable to refrain from speaking his heart. And that would be a burden Lady Jaina Proudmoore most certainly did not need as she faced what could be Theramore’s darkest hour.

As he had told Jaina, Archmage Rhonin and others of the Kirin Tor would protect her as well as he could, and none of them was in danger of distracting Jaina from what needed to be her pure, focused purpose.

“I suppose this is good-bye, then,” Jaina said. She smiled, the sincere yet practiced smile of the diplomat, and extended her hand. Kalecgos took it, closing his fingers around her slender ones, savoring the simple handshake for what it surely must have been—the last time he would be able to touch her.

“You are in good hands,” he said.

“The finest in Azeroth,” Jaina said cheerfully. “I wish you every success, Kalecgos. I know you will find what you are seeking. For your flight, and for the whole world. Perhaps… after the battle, if you do not find it, I can be of further help?”

He swallowed hard, then let her hand fall. “After the battle, if I do not find it, you shall be the first to know,” he said sincerely.

Kalecgos strode with more energy than was warranted out of the tower and into an area clear enough for him to transform. He leaped into the sky, extending his senses, willing the cursed Focusing Iris to slow, to stop, so that he could recover it and return to Jaina. But it would not cooperate, and its rapid speed taunted him as he flapped his wings and sped off in what was probably futile pursuit.

Jaina was surprised at Kalec’s rather abrupt departure and realized that she had assumed he would stay and help. But it was not his battle, she reasoned; he probably had already intervened much more than he had originally intended. Charming as he was in his half-elven form, he was, in the end, a dragon. And the dragons did not take sides in the affairs of the younger races. Still, she felt an odd sense of loss. He had become a friend during these tense few days, and she would miss him more than she had expected.

She did not have time to brood on his absence, however, as Rhonin, true to his word, materialized outside Jaina’s tower a scant half hour after he had contacted her. And also true to his word, he did not come alone.

With him were nearly a dozen others, four of whom Jaina knew to be prominent members of the Kirin Tor, if not members of the council. The rest of the magi she did not know, but she certainly recognized Vereesa Windrunner. Clearly, she was not going to let her husband be put in harm’s way without standing beside him. Jaina gave her a welcoming smile and turned to the magi.

The four premier magi Rhonin had selected were Tari Cogg, one of the foremost gnome magi in Dalaran; Amara Leeson, a human mage with long black hair and a pinched-looking face whose cross expression belied a kind heart; Thoder Windermere, whose massive physical build and roughed-up features would make one think he was a warrior rather than one of the deftest spellcasters Jaina had ever met; and, to her surprise, Thalen Songweaver, a Sunreaver, slender, sharp-featured, and with hair the color of moonlight.

“I know many of you and look forward to getting to know the rest,” Jaina said warmly, “and I thank you from my heart for answering my call for aid. Mage Songweaver, I especially thank you for being here. The choice must have been difficult, for you and for Archmage Aethas.”

“Not as much as you would think,” said Songweaver in a husky, pleasant voice. “It was my lord Aethas who cast the deciding vote.”

“Even after being married to an elf, their logic still confounds me,” said Rhonin. Vereesa gave him a mock glare. Rhonin winked at his wife, then turned back to Jaina. “Well, here we are. I need to speak with you privately, Lady Proudmoore, but my colleagues here await instruction.”

“Let us say rather requests,” Jaina said, turning to Tervosh. “Tervosh, Kinndy, Pained? Will you acquaint our guests with the layout of the city and introduce them to Captain Vimes and Captain Evencane?”

Pained merely nodded. Tervosh said, “It would be an honor. We are most grateful for your aid.” Kinndy looked a little stunned and, for once, seemed to have nothing to say. Jaina watched the group go, then turned to Rhonin.

“You realize you’ve irritated a lot of magi,” Rhonin said without preamble.

“I?” Jaina was confused.

“I know, I know, that’s usually my area of expertise,” the red-haired archmage said with a self-deprecating grin. “Some people like to hold grudges. I won’t go so far as to say you made enemies during the Third War, but your choices didn’t endear you to very many.”

“What did I do?”

“It’s more what you didn’t do. Some in Dalaran feel you abandoned them. When you chose not to work with the Kirin Tor but struck off on your own.”

“I wasn’t needed there,” Jaina replied. “I had a different—well, calling. I went where I felt I could best serve. I had no idea other magi felt insulted by that choice.”

“It’s old grumbling, nothing more,” Rhonin told her. “Some people just like to be cranky. And the main reason it still doesn’t sit right with a few of them is because there were more than a few magi who thought that you should have been the future of the council, not a smart-mouthed redhead.” At her shocked expression he added, “Come now, Jaina, I’ve heard you say often enough that it’s as much a mistake to downplay one’s talents as it is to inflate them. I’m good. Damn good. And so are many others in the Kirin Tor. Some of those are here today. But you…” He shook his head admiringly. “You’re a fine diplomat, no question. Azeroth owes a lot to you. But even I think you may be squandering your gifts, staying here in Theramore.”

“Theramore is a nation. One I founded to shine out as a beacon of hope for peace in this world. One I have promised to take care of and protect. I would be but one of many in the Kirin Tor. Here…” Jaina gestured at the activity all around them. “I can’t leave, not now and probably not ever, Rhonin. You know that. Theramore needs me. And whatever you say, I cannot believe that I could better serve Azeroth as one of many magi in the Kirin Tor than I have as a diplomat.”

He nodded, a bit mournfully, it seemed to her. “You are Theramore,” he said in agreement. “More than I or anyone can be the Kirin Tor. This world is in a sad, sad state, Jaina. It’s not been allowed to recover. First the war against Malygos and the blues. Then fighting that bas—forgive me, the Lich King—cost so many lives. And then Azeroth itself practically cracks in half. No disrespect to your efforts, but I don’t think that either the Horde or the Alliance would know what to do with peace if it bit them.”

Jaina knew that Rhonin did not mean his comments as a criticism. He was merely lamenting, as did she, the fact that Azeroth and its denizens had been forced to endure so many catastrophes, so much violence. And yet, what he said galvanized her, as it struck far too close. Was she wasting her time? Hadn’t she said as much to Go’el not so long ago, that she feared her words were falling on deaf ears? What she said came back to her: It seems as if I am struggling through mud simply to be heard, let alone actually listened to. It’s… difficult to try to be a diplomat and work for real, solid results when the other side

won’t acknowledge reason anymore. I feel like a crow cawing in the field. I wonder if it’s just wasted breath.

Kalecgos, too, had expressed the same thing. Why are you not in Dalaran? he had asked her. Why are you here, standing between swamp and ocean, between Horde and Alliance?

Because someone has to, she had answered. And because she believed she had the ability to succeed as a diplomat.

If you believe that—and I am not saying you are wrong—why are you trying so very hard to convince yourself?

Had she been doing the wrong thing, in the wrong place?

Jaina forced the thought back. Now was not the time to get lost in regrets. Now was the time to act, to defend her people from the battle that was quite literally on the horizon. “I must see my people safe first,” she said to Rhonin. “Not even I can talk of peace while they are in harm’s way. Let’s go.”