Cycle of Hatred

Eight

Lorena was led into Lady Proudmoore's chambers by Duree, that lunatic old woman who managed the lady's affairs, only to find that the room was empty.

Whirling on Duree, over whom she loomed by a full head, Lorena said, "Where is she?"

"She'll be back soon, stop your fretting. It's been an hour since she went off to meet with that orc Warchief—oughta be back any moment now."

Frowning, Lorena asked, "She's meeting with Thrall?"

Putting her hand to her mouth, Duree said, "Oh dear, I wasn't supposed to mention that. Just forget I said anything, will you please, dear?"

The colonel said nothing, instead twisting her square face into a snarl designed with the express purpose of getting the old woman out of the chambers.

At that, it succeeded rather admirably, as Duree dashed from the chambers, her spectacles falling off her nose.

A moment later, Kristoff entered. "Colonel. Duree said you had a report."

Lorena looked at the chamberlain. Like the old woman, Kristoff was a necessary evil—after all, a nation did not run on soldiering alone. One of the first lessons her father and brothers had taught her was to be good to the clerks and the like. They were the people who kept any unit functioning, far more than any high—ranking officers.

She found Duree so annoying that she did not put that advice to good use with her, but Kristoff was the lady's right hand. So Lorena put aside her intense dislike for the man himself and forced a smile onto her face.

"Yes, Chamberlain, I have a report for the lady, which I'll give her as soon as she arrives."

Kristoff smiled. It was the most insincere smile Lorena had ever seen, and after spending years guarding the keep at Kul Tiras, it was against some stiff competition. "You may give it to me, and I can assure you that I will pass it on to Lady Proudmoore."

"I prefer to wait for milady myself, sir, if you don't mind."

"She is away on official business." Kristoff inhaled sharply. "She could be some time."

Giving the chamberlain an insincere smile of her own, the colonel said, "The lady's a mage—when her business is conducted, she'll be back in an instant. And she wished me to report directly to her."

"Colonel—"

Whatever Kristoff was about to say was lost to a loud popping sound and a flash of light that heralded the arrival of Lady Proudmoore.

She wasn't much to look at, the colonel had always thought, but she had also learned early on that mages were not ones to judge on appearances. Lorena had spent all her life trying to make herself look as male as possible—keeping her hair cut short, not shaving her legs, wearing undergarments that hid her breasts—and even with all that, she was often dismissed as being «just» a woman. It amazed Lorena how this small, pale woman with her golden hair and deep blue eyes managed to gain the respect of so many.

In part, Lorena supposed it was the way she carried herself. She seemed to be the tallest person in whatever room she stood in, even though she was often the shortest. Her clothes all tended to be white: boots, blouse, pantaloons, cloak. Most amazingly, the clothes remained a shiny white. It took a week out of every year of a soldier's life to keep the white trim in the plate armor from turning brown or gray, and most were unsuccessful, yet Lady Proudmoore's clothes almost glowed.

Lorena supposed that was a fortuitous side effect of being a powerful mage.

"Colonel, you've returned." Lady Proudmoore spoke as if she'd been standing in the room all along. "Please report."

Quickly and concisely, Lorena told the lady, as well as the chamberlain, what she and her people had learned at Northwatch.

Kristoff pursed his thin lips. "I've never heard of this Burning Blade."

"I have." The lady had flipped back her hood, letting her golden curls loose, and sat at her desk while Lorena was giving her report, and she now put a finger to her chin. "There was an orc clan by that name, but they've been wiped out. And some of the Elite Guard have mentioned it in passing."

Lorena didn't like the sound of this. It was one thing for Strov to have heard of it, but if rumors of this organization were reaching the lady's personal guards, then something was amiss. "These were orcs, ma'am, that much I'm sure of."

"Or were made to look like orcs," Lady Proudmoore said. "They obviously had use of magic—which is vexing enough—and therefore could have been deliberately masking themselves. After all, an unprovoked attack on human soldiers by orcs would do much to destabilize our alliance."

"It is also possible," Kristoff said, "that these are orc agitators who are using this extinct clan for their own purposes."

Lorena shook her head. "That doesn't explain how Private Strov's brother heard of them in a Theramore tavern."

The lady nodded, her thoughts seeming to turn inward, as if she forgot there were others in the room. Lorena had known few wizards in her time, but they all had a tendency to wander mentally.

However, unlike those other mages—who often needed a club to the head to pay attention to the world around them—Lady Proudmoore usually was able to bring herself back to reality on her own. She did so now, and stood up. "Colonel, I want you to investigate this Burning Blade. We need to know who they are, how they operate, especially if they're using magic. If they have orc recruits, then why try to lure humans? Get to the bottom of it, Lorena—use whoever you need."

Standing straight, Lorena saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

"Kristoff, I'm afraid I'm going to need to depart immediately. Thunder lizards have gotten loose from Thunder Ridge, and are endangering Drygulch Ravine."

Frowning, the chamberlain said, "I fail to see how that concerns us—or you."

"A section of the forest that keeps the lizards contained in the ridge has been razed to the stump. Orcs did not do that."

"How can you be sure of that?" Kristoff sounded incredulous.

Lorena felt much the same way at the chamberlain's idiotic words. "It can't possibly have been orcs." Realizing she spoke out of turn, she shot Lady Proudmoore a look. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Smiling, the lady said, "Quite all right. Please, continue."

Looking back at Kristoff, Lorena said, "Even when they were cursed by the Burning Legion, orcs would never do such a thing. Orcs have always had a reverence for the land that, frankly, borders on the psychotic."

Lady Proudmoore chuckled. "Actually, I'd say that the human proclivity for abuse of nature is what borders on the psychotic, but the colonel's point is well taken. Orcs simply aren't capable of doing that—especially given what would happen with the thunder lizards. That leaves the trolls, who have ceded themselves to Thrall's rule, the goblins, who are neutral, and us—allies of Durotar." She sighed. "In addition, there is no sign of the lumber that was cut down. It had to have been transported, but there are no reports of any convoys, by air or land. Which means magic."

Not liking the sound of that at all, Lorena asked, "Ma'am, do you believe the Burning Blade had something to do with it?"

"After hearing your report, Colonel, I'm very much inclined in that direction—and that's what I want you to learn."

Kristoff folded his spindly arms over his small chest. "I fail to see how this requires your being away from Theramore."

"I promised Thrall I would investigate personally." She smiled wryly. "Right now, I'm his best suspect for performing this act, since cutting down the trees and teleporting them elsewhere on Kalimdor is well within my abilities. What better way to prove my innocence than to learn the truth myself?"

"I can think of several ways," Kristoff said sourly.

Lady Proudmoore walked around to the other side of her desk, standing face to face with her chamberlain. "There is another reason. It is quite possible that magic is afoot here. Powerful magic. If there is magic of this much power on Kalimdor, I need to know who is wielding it—and learn why the mage in question has remained secretive."

"If magic is involved." Kristoff sounded so petulant Lorena wanted desperately to punch him. However, he then let out a long breath and unfolded his arms. "Still, I suppose that is a legitimate concern. At the very least, it does need to be investigated. I withdraw my objections."

Dryly, the lady said, "I'm so glad you approve, Kristoff." She walked back to her desk, rummaging through the pile of scrolls. "I will depart in the morning. Kristoff, you will handle things while I'm gone, as I'm not sure how long this will take. You will be empowered to act in my name until my return." Turning toward Lorena, she added, "Good hunting, Colonel. You're both dismissed."

Lorena saluted again, turned on her heel, and departed. As she exited, she heard Kristoff start to say something, but the lady interrupted. "I said you were dismissed, Chamberlain."

"Of course, ma'am."

The colonel couldn't help but smile at the peeved tone in the chamberlain's voice.

There were times when Jaina Proudmoore really hated being right.

Being wrong was never something that bothered her, and she mostly blamed Antonidas for that. Her mentor had drummed into her from the moment her apprenticeship started that the worst sin a mage could commit was arrogance, and also the easiest. "With so much power at your command—literally at your fingertips—it is easy to be tempted to think that you are all—powerful," the older wizard had said. "Indeed it is so easy that most wizards succumb to the notion. It is one of the reasons why we are often so tiresome." That last had been said with a small smile.

"You're not like that, though, are you?" Jaina had asked.

"All too regularly," had been the mage's reply. "The trick is to recognize the flaw in yourself and work to correct it." Then her mentor had told her of mages past, such as Aegwynn and Medivh, the last two Guardians of Tirisfal, both of whom had let their arrogance be their downfall. Years later, Jaina would work alongside Medivh and see that he at least had redeemed himself. His mother, Aegwynn, was less fortunate. The first female Guardian—and someone Jaina had admired for most of her life—her one mistake in her centuries as Guardian was to believe herself to have defeated Sargeras. In fact, she destroyed only his avatar, and allowed the demon to hide within her soul, remaining there for centuries until Aegwynn sired Medivh, and then Sargeras moved to him. Medivh had been the vessel for Sargeras's invasion, and for the orcs' presence in this world, all because Aegwynn was arrogant enough to believe that she could have defeated Sargeras alone.

Jaina had taken those words to heart, and so always doubted her own surety. She still admired Aegwynn—without her blazing the trail, the only response to Jaina's attempts to study magic would have been laughter, instead of the swayable skepticism she was met with. And she had swayed Antonidas.

Sometimes that self—doubt worked against her—she hadn't listened to her instinct that Arthas had turned for far longer than was wise, given Arthas's descent, and she always wondered if things would have been different if she'd acted sooner. But mostly, that had served her well. It also made her, she hoped, a wise leader to the people of Theramore.

When Thrall had told her of the destruction of a section of the forest that surrounded Thunder Ridge, she had known immediately that magic was at work, and powerful magic at that. She had hoped, however, that she was wrong in that assumption.

That turned out to be a forlorn hope. She went straight to the forest in question from her chambers in Theramore, and as soon as she materialized, she could practically smell the magic. Indeed, even without her magically enhanced abilities, she'd have known that magic was afoot here. Before her was a range of stumps, stretching almost as far as a human could see, before disappearing over the hill that led down to the ridge. The top of each stump was on a perfectly straight line with all the surrounding ones—it was as if a giant saw had gone through all the trees at once. More to the point, the cuts were all completely even, with no flaws or breaks. One could attain such a level of perfection only with magic.

Jaina knew most of the mages who still lived. The few besides herself who were capable of this were not on Kalimdor. What's more, this magic didn't have the feel of any of those she knew. Every wizard wielded the forces of magic differently, and if one was sensitive enough, one could tell the differences from one mage to the next. This felt like no mage Jaina knew. And it gave her a mildly nauseous feeling, which led her to think that it might well be demonic magic. The nausea didn't necessarily mean demonic magic, of course, though the presence of the Burning Legion's wizardry had always made Jaina ill. But so had Kel'Thuzad's when Antonidas first introduced them in the third year of Jaina's apprenticeship, and that was when the archmage was one of the finest mages in Kirin Tor (long before he turned to necromancy and became a servant of the Lich King).

Besides which, the source of the destruction was of less import than its result: thunder lizards were now roaming unfettered through Drygulch, and possibly beyond. Jaina needed to find a remote place to relocate them where they wouldn't rampage all over the farms and cities the orcs had built here.

Reaching under her cloak, she pulled out the map, one of two items she had taken off the mess on her desk. She had decided upon the Bladescar Highlands as the ideal place to relocate the lizards. Located in the southern portion of Durotar, due east of Ratchet, the highlands were remote, separated from the rest of Durotar by mountains that the thunder lizards would be hard—pressed to navigate. Plus, the region had plenty of grasslands for them to graze, room for them to stampede to their heart's content, and a mountain stream that was almost as big as the river they had use of in Thunder Ridge. The lizards would be safe, and so would the population of Durotar.

Her initial thought was to move them even farther away—say to Feralas on the other side of the continent—but even Jaina's abilities had their limits. She could teleport herself there easily enough, but herself and hundreds of thunder lizards was more than even she could handle over such a distance.

She then removed the other item from her cloak—a scroll containing a spell that would enable her to sense the mind of any thunder lizard on the continent. She spoke the incantation and then cast her senses outward. Unlike most reptiles, thunder lizards had a herd mentality akin to that of cattle, so most of them had stayed together even as they departed their home. Sure enough, she found the bulk of them milling around the river that fed Drygulch Ravine. They were in a docile phase right now, which simplified Jaina's life considerably. She was prepared to magically put them into such a phase if need be. Thunder lizards were either docile or stampeding—they didn't really have much of a middle ground, and teleporting them while stampeding would be a good deal more problematic. Still, she preferred not to disturb the animals' routine any more than necessary, so she was glad they were in the more cooperative mode.

For a caster to include anyone but herself in the teleportation spell required line of sight—at least, according to most scrolls one would find on the subject. However, Antonidas had told Jaina that one could also do it if one was in what he called "line of mind." It required the mage to reach out and touch the thoughts of whomever she wished to teleport. This was a lot riskier, as there were many whose minds were difficult or dangerous to touch. Other mages and demons generally had protections against such things, and even someone particularly strong—willed would probably be able to resist.

No such impediment existed with the thunder lizards, however. Right now, their minds were focused on one of three things: eating, drinking, or sleeping. In addition to running very fast, those activities were generally all that occupied a thunder lizard's mind, except during mating season.

Still and all, it took several hours for Jaina, standing in the razed forest, to reach out with her mind to each thunder lizard in Drygulch, as well as the stragglers that had wandered off toward Razor Hill.

Grass. Water. Eyes close. Rest. Lap up. Chew. Swallow. Sip. Sleep. Breathe.

For a moment, she was almost lost—true, the lizards' thought patterns weren't complex, but there were hundreds of them, and she found herself overwhelmed by their instinctive need to eat and drink and sleep.

Gritting her teeth, she reasserted her own self over that of hundreds of thunder lizards. She then started to mutter the incantation for the teleport spell.

Pain! Searing white—hot agony sliced through Jaina's skull as soon as she uttered the final syllable of the spell. The ruined forest melted before her and then slammed back into form immediately. A milder pain shot through Jaina's left knee, and only then did she realize that she had stumbled to the ground, her knee colliding with the nearest stump.

Pain. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Run. Run. Run. Run. No more pain. Run, no pain.

Sweat beading on her forehead, Jaina resisted the urge to start running through the forest. Something happened to the teleport spell, but Jaina couldn't take the time to find out what just yet, because the pain she felt when the spell was ruined was transferred to the thunder lizards via their mental link. It was serving to put them into a stampeding frame of mind, and she had to stop them before they ran through Drygulch again.

Every instinct screamed for her to break the link, as holding back the urges of the now—agitated lizards was like trying to hold back the ocean with a broom. But the only way to calm them was to keep the link. Closing her eyes and forcing herself to focus, she cast a spell that Antonidas had said was specifically written to calm bucking mounts. Clenching her fists so hard she feared her fingernails would draw blood, she shoved as much of herself as she could into the spell, making sure to catch all the lizards with it.

Moments later they were all asleep. Jaina barely managed to break the mental link before she herself also succumbed. Her own fatigue was doing enough without adding the lizards' magically induced naps.

Her limbs ached, and her eyelids felt heavy. Teleport spells were draining under the best of circumstances, and both the volume she was trying to move and the spell's violent end made these circumstances far from the best. Jaina wanted nothing more than to lie down and join the lizards in their slumber, but she couldn't afford that. The spell would only keep the lizards asleep for six hours—possibly less because the spell was so diffuse. She had to find out what there was in Bladescar that kept her from completing the spell.

She sat, folding her legs together, letting her hands fall limply to her side, and controlled her breathing. Then she once again cast her senses outward, this time toward the Bladescar range, specifically the small area in the center of the mountainous region.

It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for.

Someone had put up wards around the entire highlands. From this distance, Jaina could not pinpoint the type of magic being used, but the wards were precisely the type designed to—among other things—disrupt teleportation spells in order to keep whatever was inside the wards protected.

Jaina stood and collected herself. She was about to start the teleportation spell that would bring her to Bladescar, then stopped herself. Reaching into the small pack attached to her belt, she took out some jerky. Another of Antonidas's earliest lessons was a reminder that magic used the body, and the only way to replenish the body was to consume food. "More wizards," he had said, "have wasted away because they were so busy exploring the wonders of magic that they forgot to eat."

Her jaw aching from chewing the tough dried meat, the newly refreshed Jaina then cast the spell that would take her to a spot just outside the wards placed around the highlands.

The one flaw in her plan to eat before teleporting was that the stomach rumblings she often felt as a side effect of the spell were far more pronounced with undigested food still in her belly. But she pushed past the effect as she stood on the steep incline that more or less demarcated the beginning of the highlands. Below and behind her was a sheer cliff. In front of her was the slanted grasslands. There was barely enough room to stand.

Of course, the wards were invisible to the naked eye. But Jaina could nonetheless feel them. They were not particularly powerful, but they didn't really need to be. In fact, if the object was to hide someone or something—which Jaina was becoming more and more convinced was the case here—it was best to keep the wards at a low level. Too powerful, and they would be like a beacon to any mage.

This close, Jaina also recognized the flavor of the magic that had cast these wards. She last felt it in the company of Medivh, during the war. This was Tirisfalen magic—but all the Guardians were supposed to be dead, including Medivh, the last of them.

Removing the wards—now that she knew they were there—was but the work of a gesture. She then walked ahead and started to explore the highlands, pausing to put a concealment spell on herself so she could move about undetected.

At first, it was just as she expected: grasslands, dotted with fruit—bearing bushes and the occasional tree. A wind blew in off the Great Sea, funneled by the mountains and billowing Jaina's white cloak behind her. It had been cloudy back at Thunder Ridge, but the highlands were above the cloud line, so it was bright and sunny here. Jaina cast her cloak's hood back so she could enjoy the feeling of the sun on her face.

Soon she came across the first sign of whatever was hiding: several of the bushes had had their fruit picked recently. As she continued to walk uphill, she found a well that had been built, with some firewood stacked next to it. On the other side of a large tree, she saw a large hut. Rows of plants—vegetables, mostly, and some spices—were planted in an orderly manner in an area behind the hut that was more or less level.

A moment later, a woman came into view. She was dressed only in a threadbare light blue linen dress; her feet were bare. Her gait was steady, and as she approached the well, Jaina saw that she was unusually tall for a woman—certainly taller than Jaina herself. In addition, she was unmistakably old. Wrinkles marred her face, which Jaina thought must once have been beautiful. The woman had white hair held in place with a tarnished silver diadem, and the deepest green eyes Jaina had ever seen. They matched the cracked jade pendant she wore around her neck.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Jaina's neck stood on end, as she thought she recognized the woman. They had never met, of course, but she'd read descriptions during her apprenticeship, and all the accounts made mention of her great height, her blond hair held simply with a silver diadem—and her eyes. Everyone was sure to mention those jade eyes.

Certainly, if it was her, it explained the wards. Yet she was supposed to have died long ago…

The woman put her hands on her hips. "I know you're there, so you might as well not waste that concealment spell." She shook her head as she moved to the well and lowered a bucket by letting down the rope hand over hand. "Honestly, they don't teach you young mages anything these days. Violet Citadel's gone to pot, and that's the truth."

Jaina dropped the concealment. The woman barely reacted beyond making a tsk noise while lowering the rope.

"My name is Lady Jaina Proudmoore. I rule Theramore, the human city on this continent."

"Good for you. When you get back to this Theramore place, work on that concealment spell. Couldn't hide from a bloodhound with a cold with that thing."

Her mind reeling, Jaina realized that this woman couldn't possibly be anyone but who she thought it was, impossible as that might have been. "Magna, it's an honor to meet you. I had thought that you were—"

"Dead?" The woman snorted as she started pulling the rope back up, her mouth showing the signs of the greater strain of lifting a water—filled bucket. "I am dead, Lady Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore—or as close as makes no never mind. And don't go calling me ‘Magna. That was another time and another place, and I'm not that woman anymore."

"The title is not one you lose, Magna. And I cannot bring myself to call you anything else."

"Balderdash. If you're gonna call me anything, call me by my name. Call me Aegwynn."