World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,117
tried, and failed, to not show her horror and fear at the gesture.
“I do not think for a moment this will completely sever your connection to the elements,” Baine said. Nonetheless, he repeated the gesture with another totem, and another, and finally a fourth. “But I know it will anger the elements. And it will take you time—and abasement before them—to regain their favor again. I think such groveling and humility are fine things for you to taste. In fact, I will contribute even more of such things.
“You will be sent from this place to the harsh Stonetalon Mountains. There you may eke out an existence as best you may. Harm no one, and no one will harm you. Attack, and you are the enemy, and I will put no restraints on anything anyone wishes to do to you. And stir up treachery again—then, Magatha, I will come for you myself, and even the spirit of Cairne Bloodhoof urging me to calmness will not stop me from cutting off your head. Are we clear?”
She nodded.
He snorted, then drew back, eyeing the others. “There are some among you who were uneasy with the bloodshed, as Stormsong Grimtotem was. Any of you who wish to come forward and swear loyalty to me, the tauren people, and the Horde, and publicly disassociate yourselves from the stain that spreads whenever the name Grimtotem is mentioned, as Stormsong has done, you will receive a full pardon. The rest of you, go with your so-called matriarch into the wilderness. Share her fate. And pray you never see my face again.”
He waited. For a long moment no one moved. Then a female, clutching the hands of two little ones, stepped forward. She knelt before Baine and bowed her head, her children imitating her.
“Baine Bloodhoof, I had no part in the slaughter of that night but confess that my mate did. I would have my children grow up here, in the safety of this peaceful city, if you will have us.”
A black bull moved toward the female, placing a hand on her shoulder, then kneeling beside her. “For the sake of my mate and children, I present myself to your judgment. I am Tarakor, and it was I who led the attack against you when Stormsong deserted. I have never seen mercy in my life, but I ask it for my innocent children, if not for myself.”
More and more came forward, until fully a quarter of the Grimtotem were kneeling before Baine. He was not so trusting as to think they would not need to be watched. When sharing Magatha’s banishment, shame, and powerlessness was the only other option—for he intended to strip all of them of their ability to fight back, at least temporarily—he imagined many would have a sudden change of heart about their past deeds. But some of them, he also knew, were genuine in their desire. And perhaps others would become so. It was a risk he would have to take, if true healing were to happen.
He took a small, petty pleasure in the look on Magatha’s face as more and more of her so-called loyal Grimtotem abandoned her. He suspected his father would be all right with that.
“Any more?” he asked. When the rest of the Grimtotem stayed where they were, he nodded. “Two dozen Bluffwatchers will escort you to your new home. I cannot honestly say I wish you luck. But your deaths at least will not be on my head.”
They moved toward the lifts. He watched them for a moment. Magatha did not look back.
My words were not idle, Magatha Grimtotem. If I see you again, even though An’she guides me, I will not stay my hand.
Garrosh had once been ashamed of his heritage. It had taken time for him to understand, embrace, and finally celebrate who he was and where he had come from. Filled with that confidence, he had legitimately won much honor for himself and the Horde. Since then he had grown accustomed to adulation. But now, as he and his retinue climbed up the winding ramp to the appointed meeting site in Thousand Needles, he felt the gazes of the tauren on him and stiffened slightly.
It was not a good sensation, to feel that he had not been in the right. And truly, he knew that he had wished to fight Cairne in an honorable way that showed respect both to himself and to one he regarded as a noble warrior. Magatha had robbed him of that,