World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,110

fingers curled tightly around Fearbreaker.

Anduin felt the Light tickling gently at the center of his chest, within his heart. Still unsure, he lifted his hand. It flashed brightly, and Baine was suddenly bathed in a gentle glow that disappeared as quickly as it had come. Baine’s eyes widened. He took another deep breath, and before Anduin’s eyes, settled into calmness.

Now Anduin recognized the feeling—except this time, it was coming from him, to be bestowed on Baine, not from Rohan to be bestowed on him. Baine was feeling the same peace that Anduin had felt when Rohan had blessed him with a ward against his own fear. Baine lifted his head.

“An honor, from you, Anduin, and from Magni Bronzebeard. Know that I will treasure this.”

Anduin smiled. Beside him, Jaina was looking at him with an expression akin to awe. Her eyes, wide and bright, looked from him to Baine and back again, and her face curved into a gentle, tender smile.

The tauren gazed at the glowing weapon. “Light,” he said. “My people do not think the darkness is evil, Anduin. It is a naturally occurring thing, and therefore right. But we, too, have our own Light. We honor the eyes of the Earth Mother, the sun, and the moon—An’she and Mu’sha. Neither is better than the other, and together they see with balanced vision. I feel in this weapon a kinship to them, even though it comes from a culture very different from my own.”

Anduin smiled gently. “Light is light, whatever its source,” he agreed.

“I wish I had something comparable to give you in return,” Baine said. “There are certainly honored weapons that have been handed down in my line, but I am in possession of very little at the moment. The only thing I can give you is some advice my father shared with me.

“Our people were once nomads. It is only recently, in the last few years, that we have halted our wandering and made a home for ourselves in Mulgore. It was a challenge. But we created villages and cities of peace, of tranquility and beauty. We imbued the places in which we dwelt with a sense of who and what we are. And that is what I wish to restore now. My father once said, ‘Destruction is easy.’ Look what havoc the Grimtotem were able to wreak in a single night. But creating something that lasts—that, my father said, was a challenge. I am determined to make sure that what he created—Thunder Bluff and all the other villages, the goodwill between the members of the Horde—I will devote my life to seeing that they last.”

Anduin felt his heart both swell and calm at the words. It was indeed a challenge, but he knew Baine, son of Cairne, was up to the task. “What else did your father say?” Cairne, as described by his son, seemed so very wise to Anduin, and he hungered for more.

Baine snorted slightly in laughter that was warm and genuine and yet laced with the pain of remembering too early for nostalgia.

“There was something about … eating all your vegetables.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

The Grimtotem were powerful and uniquely trained. From early childhood, while others their age were learning to be in harmony with nature and learning the rites of the Great Hunt, the Grimtotem were taught how to fight one another. They learned to kill, quickly, cleanly, with hands, horns, and whatever weapon was at hand. In any given conflict, the odds were with a Grimtotem to win a fight. They did not fight honorably; they fought to win. But their numbers were not inexhaustible. Magatha was able to target only certain places, and she had chosen to focus primarily on seizing the main city from which Cairne had led, the heart of Mulgore, which was the first real “home” the tauren had ever known, and on slaying the son he had fathered. The first victory had been obtained. Dawn had shone light on hundreds of corpses in and around Thunder Bluff. Their goal had been twofold: to eliminate those most highly positioned to oppose them, and to strike utter, crippling terror into the tauren population by slaughtering anyone who lifted a weapon to them.

Their enemies lay stiffening in congealing pools of blood, as did many who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But those deaths, too, were a powerful propaganda tool. Magatha and the Grimtotem held Thunder Bluff. They held all of that city’s resources and hostages with which to negotiate.