Tides of Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE

Two days after the first meeting, Lothar found himself back in the Lordaeron throne room with the continent's rulers. Khadgar had accompanied him again, and Lothar was glad of the lad's presence. Terenas was a kindly host and a good man, as were some of the other monarchs, but the young wizard was the only one Lothar had known from Azeroth. Even though the young man was not native to Stormwind his presence reminded Lothar of home.

Home. A place that no longer existed. Lothar knew he would have to accept that at some point. It still seemed unreal for now. He kept expecting to turn and see Llane laughing, or look up and watch a pair of gryphons gliding by, or hear the sound of his men martialling in the courtyard. But all that was gone now. Their friends were dead. Their home had fallen. And he vowed to keep this land from following it into darkness, even if it cost his life.

Right now he thought it more likely to cost him his sanity. Lothar had never had much patience for politics, and had watched amazed over the years as Llane placated this noble and that one, easing arguments, diffusing conflicts, settling disputes, all the while never favoring any one over the other or letting personal interests interfere with affairs of state. It was all a game, Llane had told him over and over again, a game of positioning and influence and subtle maneuvering. No one ever really won, not for long, and the goal was simply to maintain the strongest position possible for as long as possible.

From what Lothar had seen, this continent's monarchs were experts at the game. And being forced to deal with them, supposedly as an equal, was driving him to his wit's end.

After lunch that first day, they had returned to the throne room for more discussions. Everyone seemed to accept the idea that the Horde would come, even that too—smooth Perenolde. Now the question was what to do about it.

It had taken the rest of the day to convince everyone that a unified army was the only answer. Terenas had agreed at once, fortunately, as had Trollbane, and Proudmoore had taken little coaxing. But Perenolde and Graymane had been more difficult. Lothar wasn't surprised at Perenolde's reluctance. He'd known similar men back in Stormwind, smooth and silky and nasty and always out for themselves at any cost. More often than not they had turned out to be cowards. Perenolde was probably afraid of battle personally and extended that to his subjects, many of whom were no doubt braver than he was. Graymane was a surprise, however. The man certainly looked the warrior, with that powerful frame and his heavy armor. Nor had he stated that he would not fight. But he had been quick to suggest other options every time the talk had turned back toward war, and Perenolde of course had insisted on examining each suggestion in great detail. It was only after Proudmoore and Trollbane all but accused Graymane of cowardice that the burly man had agreed an army was their own recourse.

The second day had been more of the same. They had settled on the idea of war, at least, but now there were the logistics of cooperation to consider. Which armies would supply what troops, where they would be stationed, how they would be supplied—details Lothar had dealt with himself for years but only for one nation's military. Now they were dealing with five, not counting any Stormwind survivors he could muster, and each king had his own ideas and his own methods.

And of course the biggest question was the one of command.

Each king seemed to feel he should have command of the unified army. Terenas pointed out that Lordaeron was the largest kingdom with the most troops, and also that he was the one who had summoned the rest of them. Trollbane claimed to have the most actual fighting experience, at looking at the gruff mountain king Lothar believed him. Proudmoore mentioned the power of his navy, and the importance of ships for troop transport and supplies. Graymane's was the most southern of the kingdoms, and he seemed to feel that meant he should have command because his lands would be the first overrun if the Horde approached on foot—even though that wasn't true, since Stromgarde actually was foremost along the path the Horde would take from Khaz Modan to Dun Modr and on. Perenolde suggested that brute force alone was not enough but that the commander should have intelligence, wisdom, and vision, all of which he felt he possessed in abundance.

And then there were the two non—kings, each a leader in his own right. Archbishop Faol, whose followers included most of the people from all the kingdoms combined, and Archmage Antonidas, who essentially ruled a single city but whose people's powers likely matched the strength of any army they could muster. Fortunately the two men, the one short and friendly and the other tall and stern, were not interested in control of the army. They had both played a moderating influence, keeping the kings focused on the fact that the Horde would come whether an army was ready to face them or not, and reminding the monarchs frequently that an army without a single leader was useless no matter its size.

Lothar had watched the discussions with a mixture of amusement and horror, leaning more toward the latter as he himself was drawn more frequently into the conversations. At times he was called upon as the resident orc expert. Other times they wanted his opinion as an outsider. A few times they had even left a deciding voice to him, pointing out slyly that his family had been the original rulers of this land and thus in some sense he should have some ancestral rights to that effect. Half the time Lothar couldn't tell if they were mocking him or admiring him, and he knew several of the kings wanted something from him but that something seemed to change from moment to moment. He would be much happier when these discussions were over and done and he could return to the rest of the Stormwind refugees and try to assemble at least a small force to add to the army's might.

As he waited for King Terenas to call the morning council to order, however, Lothar realized the other monarchs were watching him closely. Some, like Trollbane, were doing so openly. Others, like Perenolde and Graymane, were more subtle about it, sneaking glances now and again. Lothar wasn't sure what was going on but he didn't like it.

"We are all here, then?" Terenas asked, though of course he could see this was the case. Lordaeron's king did not miss much. "Good. Now then, we have all agreed that time is of the essence if we are to marshal our united forces and meet the Horde when it arrives. And we have all agreed upon our course of action?" Each of the other monarchs nodded, which surprised and further worried Lothar. They had still been arguing when he had given up and returned to his rooms late last night. When had they reached an agreement, and what was it about? But the king's next words told him clearly, and Lothar's blood ran cold as he heard the announcement clearly: "Then I hereby declare the founding of the Alliance of Lordaeron! We shall stand together as one, as our ancestors did long ago, in the Arathi Empire." The others nodded and Terenas continued. "And it is only fitting, then, that our commander should hail from that ancient ruling stock. We the kings of the Alliance do hereby appoint Lord Anduin Lothar, Champion of Stormwind, as our Supreme Commander!"

Lothar stared at Terenas, who winked at him. "It was the only way, really," the Lordaeron monarch explained quietly, his voice soft enough Lothar knew he was the only one to hear. "Each of them wanted to be in charge, and they were deadset against seeing another king in their place. You aren't a king so they don't feel anyone has gotten special treatment, but your bloodline makes you noble enough they don't feel slighted by being passed over." The king leaned forward. "I know it is a great deal to ask of you, and I apologize. I would not ask if it were not for our very survival, as you yourself warned us. Will you accept this charge?" The last words were spoken more loudly, Terenas's voice shifting back to formality, and silence crept across the room as the others all waited for Lothar's answer.

It did not take him long. He did not really have a choice, and Terenas knew it. He could not walk away from this, not now, not after all that had happened. "I accept the charge," he replied, his voice ringing through the chamber. "I will lead the Alliance army against the Horde."

"Very good!" Terenas clapped his hands. "We shall each go now to assemble our own troops, gear, and supplies. I suggest we meet again in one week to present our rosters and inventories to Lord Lothar, so that he may see what forces he has at his disposal and begin his planning."

The other kings muttered or nodded their agreement. Each one in turn came up to Lothar to congratulate him on his appointment and to pledge their full support, though from Perenolde and Graymane the statements seemed less sincere. Then the kings were gone, leaving only four in the room. Lothar glanced at Khadgar, who actually grinned at him.

"Out of the frying pan, eh?" the young—old mage asked, shaking his head. "And you let them talk you into that. Those clever bastards! They'd sell their own children if they thought it would win them even a single acre more to their domains! I particularly liked the way they just assumed you'd accept. But that's what happens when you have authority over others—you stop realizing that anyone else matters, much less has a say in events."

"Ahem!" The cough cut off whatever else the young wizard meant to say, and he looked up at one of the other men present, embarrassment plain on his face for once. "Not all authority is corrupt and self—serving, young man," Archbishop Faol pointed out, his normally jovial face stern. "There are those of us called to serve by leading, just as your friend here was."

"Of course, Father. Please forgive me. I did not mean to imply…I was referring to those of temporal authority only…of course you…" It was the first time Lothar had ever seen the normally smooth Khadgar too flustered for words, and he couldn't help chuckling at his young companion's predicament. Faol was laughing as well, in such a good—natured way Khadgar himself soon joined in.

"Enough, lad," Faol said at last, raising one palm. "I do not blame you for your outburst. And Lord Lothar was certainly maneuvered neatly into that trap. I must confess, however, that I too lent my weight to that decision. You are a good man, sir, and I believe you are our best possible choice for the Alliance commander. I, for one, feel better knowing you will be planning our battles and leading our forces."

"Thank you, Father." Lothar had never been a religious man but he had a great deal of respect for the Church of Light, and everything he had seen of Faol thus far had impressed him. To hear the archbishop praising him so warmly left him uncomfortable but proud.

"You will both be tested during the course of this conflict," Faol warned, his voice somehow deeper and richer than before, as if casting a pronouncement from some great height. "You will be pushed to the very limits, not just of your talents but of your courage and of your resolve. I believe you both capable of enduring such challenges, however, and of emerging victorious. I pray the Holy Light fills you with strength and purity, and that you find within it the joy and unity you need to survive and conquer." His hand rose in a benediction, and Lothar thought he saw a faint glow around the limb, a glow that spread to Khadgar and to him. He felt a sense of peace and serenity, and a surge of inexplicable happiness.

"Now, on to other matters." Suddenly Faol was just a man again, if an old and wise one. "First, what can you tell me of Northshire, particularly the abbey there? Did it survive?"

"I am afraid not, Father," Lothar replied. "The abbey is gone, torn to pieces. A few of the clerics survived and are in Southshore with the rest of our people. The rest—" He shook his head.

"I see." Faol had turned pale, but retained his composure. "I will pray for them." He fell silent, clearly lost in thought, and Lothar and Khadgar waited respectfully. After a moment the archbishop glanced up at them, and there was a new resolve in his gaze.

"You will need lieutenants for your army, sir," he announced, "and I think it best if some of those come not from the kingdoms but from the Church. I have several in mind, and a new order that I believe will prove valuable to the Alliance. I will require a few days to work out the details and select appropriate candidates. Shall we say four days from now, in the main courtyard, after the noon meal? I believe you will not be disappointed." He nodded pleasantly and then walked away without hurrying but with a steady stride.

That left one other. Antonidas had been watching them without a word, and now the elderly archmage approached them. "The might and wisdom of the Kirin Tor are at your disposal, sir," he told Lothar. "I know you were acquainted with our fellow wizards in Stormwind, so you have some sense of our capabilities. I shall appoint one of our number to assist you and serve as our liaison." The powerful wizard paused, his eyes flickering to Lothar's side so quickly he almost missed it, and Lothar suppressed a smile.

"I would ask for Khadgar to fill that role, sir," Lothar stated, catching the smile that touched the archmage's lips for just an instant. "He is already a trusted companion and has faced the orcs with me more than once."

"Of course." Antonidas turned to the younger man. Then, surprisingly, he reached out, cupping Khadgar's chin with one hand and raising his head to study his face. "You have suffered much," the archmage said softly, and Lothar could see the sorrow and sympathy in the older man's eyes. "Your experience has marked you, and far more than in your appearance."

Khadgar pulled his head away, but gently. "I did what had to be done," he replied quietly, rubbing absently at his chin, where Antonidas's touch had irritated the white beard hairs beginning to sprout there.

Antonidas frowned. "As we all must." He sighed, then seemed to shake off whatever heavy thoughts had burdened him, and returned to the matter at hand. "You shall keep us apprised of the situation on the field, young Khadgar, and communicate Lord Lothar's needs and requests as quickly as possible. You shall also coordinate the efforts of any other magi present. I trust this is within your capabilities?" Khadgar nodded. "Good. I shall expect you at Dalaran at your earliest convenience, that we may discuss other important matters and consider how we may best help the Alliance." The gem at the top of the archmage's staff flared to light, an answering gleam dancing from the gem at the crest of his skullcap, right between his eyes. Then Antonidas seemed to blur and fade and suddenly he was gone.

"He wants to know about Medivh," Khadgar said several seconds after the archmage had vanished.

"Of course." Lothar turned and led the younger man out of the throneroom, back into the rest of the palace. There he turned and began walking in the direction of the dining hall.

"What should I tell him?" The young wizard fell into step beside him.

"Tell him the truth," Lothar replied, shrugging and hoping the gesture looked casual. Inside, his stomach churned. "They need to know what happened."

Khadgar nodded, though he did not look pleased. "I will tell them," he said finally. "But that can wait until after lunch." He grinned, an expression that showed his true age despite the hair and wrinkles. "The Horde itself could not keep me from food right now."

Lothar laughed. "Let us hope it does not come to that."

A few days later Lothar and Khadgar returned to the main courtyard. They had eaten and drunk their fill and were now waiting for Archbishop Faol to arrive. He appeared after a few minutes and walked calmly out to meet them.

"Thank you for indulging me," the archbishop said as he reached them. "I would not take up your time but I believe this may prove of great help to you and to the Alliance. But first," he announced, "I would tell you, Sir Lothar, that the Church has pledged itself to Stormwind's aid. We shall gather funds to help you rebuild your kingdom, once the immediate crisis has passed."

Lothar smiled, one of the first genuine smiles Khadgar had seen from him since Stormwind had fallen. "Thank you, Father," he said, his voice husky with gratitude. "That means a great deal to me, and will to Prince Varian as well."

Faol nodded. "The Holy Light will fill your home once more," he promised gently. Then he paused and studied both of them in turn. "When we spoke last," Faol began, pacing before them, "you told me of the Northshire abbey's destruction. I was dismayed, and wondered how the rest of my clergy could possibly survive this war that approaches so rapidly. Clearly these orcs are a threat even to sturdy warriors like yourself—how, then, can a mere priest defend himself, much less his congregation?" He smiled, a truly beatific expression. "And as I felt these concerns, an idea appeared to me, as if brought by the Holy Light itself. There had to be a way to ensure that warriors fought for the Light and with the Light, using both its gifts and their own martial prowess, and still behaved in a manner appropriate to the Church's teachings."

"And you found a way?" Lothar asked.

"I have," Faol agreed. "I will establish a new branch of the Church, the paladins. I have already selected the first candidates for this order. Some were knights before but others were priests. I chose these men for both their piety and their martial prowess. They will be trained, not only in war but in prayer and in healing. And each of these valiant fighters will possess both martial and spiritual power, particularly in blessing themselves and others with the strength of the Holy Light."

He turned and beckoned, and four men emerged from a nearby passage, walking briskly over to Faol. They each wore a gleaming plate with the symbol of the Church emblazoned upon their chest, upon their shield, and upon the crest of their helm. Each man carried a sword and Lothar could see from the way they walked that these men knew how to handle themselves. But the armor and the weapons were still new and utterly unstained and undented. They had the knowledge and the training but Lothar wondered if any of these men had ever faced real combat. Those who had been warriors before must have, though perhaps only against human foes, but the former priests were most likely experienced only in sparring with their fellows. And they would be going up against orcs almost immediately.

"May I present Uther, Saidan Dathrohan, Tirion Fordring, and Turalyon." Faol was beaming like a proud father. "These will be the Knights of the Silver Hand." He introduced Lothar and Khadgar as well. "This is Lord Anduin Lothar, Champion of Stormwind and Commander of the Alliance. And his companion, the wizard Khadgar of Dalaran." Faol smiled. "I shall leave you six to discuss matters."

And he did, leaving Lothar and Khadgar surrounded by the Paladin candidates. Some of them, like the lad Turalyon, seemed overwhelmed. Others, like Uther and Tirion, were more relaxed.

Uther took the lead, speaking while Lothar was still wondering what to say to them. "My lord, the archbishop has told us of the upcoming battle, and of the Horde's approach. We are at your service, and at the service of the people. Use us as you see fit, for we would smite our enemies and drive them forth, shielding this land with the Holy Light." He was a tall, powerfully built man, with strong, vaguely familiar features and stern eyes the color of the ocean. Lothar could feel the man's piety as an almost physical presence, very much like Faol's own but lacking the archbishop's warmth.

"You were a knight before?" he asked.

"Aye, my lord," the Paladin candidate replied. "But I have been a follower of the church and a devout believer in the Holy Light since my youth. I first met the Archbishop when he was merely Bishop Faol, and he was kind enough to serve as my spiritual advisor and mentor. I was honored when he told me of his plans for a new order, and offered me a place among them." Uther's jaw tightened. "With the coming of these foul creatures, I know we will need the Light's blessing to defeat them and protect our lands, our homes, and our people."

Lothar nodded. He could understand why the man had turned to faith as an answer, or at least part of an answer. And he had no doubt Uther would be a powerful force on the battlefield. But something about the man's zeal unnerved him. He suspected Uther was too focused upon honor and faith to use less noble methods of success, and that would not hold well here. Lothar himself had learned from bitter experience that, when dealing with the orcs, honor alone was not enough. To survive against the Horde they would have to use every means necessary.

He and Khadgar spent the next hour or more speaking with the four potential paladins, and Lothar was pleased to see that his young friend was also sounding them out. After the holy warriors had left to attend afternoon prayers Lothar turned to the old—seeming wizard.

"Well?" he asked. "What did you think of them?"

Khadgar frowned. "I doubt they will be much use to us," he said after a moment.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"They have no time to prepare," the wizard explained. "We anticipate the Horde will reach Lordaeron in a matter of weeks, if not less, and none of these men have seen battle—not as paladins, at least. I have no doubt they can fight, but we have warriors aplenty. If the Archbishop expects them to perform miracles I am afraid he will be disappointed."

Lothar nodded. "I agree," he admitted. "But Faol has faith in them, and perhaps we must as well." He grinned. "Assuming they are ready somehow, what is your opinion of them then?"

"Uther will be dangerous to the Horde, that's certain," Khadgar replied, "but I do not think he can command men other than fellow Paladins. His piety is too strong, too abrasive, for most soldiers to endure." Lothar nodded for his companion to continue. "Saidan and Tirion are much the same. Saidan was a knight first, and Tirion a warrior, but they have since found faith. That may make them hesitate to use tactics they might have appreciated as simple fighters."

Lothar smiled. "And Turalyon?"

"The least of them in faith, and thus the highest in my eyes," Khadgar admitted with a grin. "He was trained for the priesthood and is a loyal Church follower but lacks the blinding zeal of the others. He also sees farther than them, and has more wit."

"I agree." The young man had impressed Lothar as well. Turalyon had been hesitant to speak at first, and after a few minutes the reason became clear. He had heard of Lothar and his deeds in Stormwind and seemed awed, a fact that made Lothar uncomfortable though it was not the first time he had faced it—many youths back home had worshipped him as well and begged him to train them and induct them into his guard. But after overcoming that initial reserve Turalyon had proven to be a bright young man with an agile mind and more appreciation for subtleties and shades than his fellows. Lothar had liked him right away, and the fact that Khadgar felt the same only confirmed his opinion.

"I will speak to Faol," Lothar said at last. "The Paladins will no doubt be valued assets, and I will take Uther as our liaison to them and to any other forces the Church can supply." Something else occurred to him. "I will propose an additional candidate, as well," he said. "Gavinrad. He was one of my knights in Azeroth, the most faithful of us, and a good man. I suspect he would make a fine Paladin." He smiled. "But Turalyon I will take to serve as one of my lieutenants."

Khadgar nodded. "A good choice, I'd say." He shook his head. "Now let us hope the Horde gives us time to prepare them and the rest of our forces."

"We will prepare what we can," Lothar answered pragmatically, already thinking on how to disposition whatever troops the kings supplied. "And we will face them when we must. There is little else we can do."