World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,12

drew closer, Cairne could now see it more clearly and his heart sank.

It made no effort to elude their obvious pursuit. It could not have, even if the captain had wished to. The vessel was listing badly to port. Its sails had been shredded by the vicious wind that had played slightly less cruelly with the Horde fleet, and it was taking on water. Cairne could only just make out what was on the ship’s standards—the lion’s head of Stormwind.

Garrosh laughed. “Excellent,” he said. “Truly a gift. Another chance to show Varian how highly I regard him.”

The last time Garrosh and King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind had been in the same room, they had come to blows. Cairne had no particular fondness for humans, but no true dislike of them, either. Had this ship attacked his own, he would have been the first to issue orders to return fire. But this ship was broken, sinking, and even without their “help” would likely soon vanish beneath the icy waters forever.

“Vengeance is petty and beneath you, Garrosh,” Cairne snapped. “And what honor is there in slaying those about to drown? You may not violate the letter of the treaty, but you do its spirit.” He turned to Tula, hoping she would see reason. “I am the commander of this mission, Captain. As such, I outrank Garrosh. I order you to give aid to these victims of the storm. Their being here was not provocative, but accidental, and there is greater honor in aiding than in butchering.”

She regarded him steadily. “With all due respect, mon, our warchief be appointin’ you leader only with regard to overseeing the return of the Warsong offensive veterans. Overlord Garrosh be in charge of all martial decisions.”

Cairne’s jaw dropped as he stared at her. She was correct. The thought had not occurred to him when they had been fighting tooth and nail against the surprise onslaught of the Kvaldir. Then, he and Garrosh had been thinking completely as one. There was no question but that aggression and battle were utterly necessary, so they had not been in conflict over that, only over how best to defeat the enemy. But now, though he was in charge of the voyage to bring the troops home, they were still obliged to obey Garrosh until such time as Thrall formally relieved Garrosh of his command. There was nothing Cairne could do.

Quietly, for Garrosh’s ears alone, he said, “I ask you, please. Do not do this thing. Our enemy is already broken. If we do not choose to assist them, they will likely die here anyway.”

“Then a swift kill is a mercy,” was Garrosh’s reply. And as if to punctuate the statement, the roar of cannons echoed. Cairne was staring straight at the ill-fated Alliance ship as the cannonballs punched holes in its side. From other vessels, a rain of arrows descended, and the sound that no Alliance soldier would ever forget, the sound of the Horde in full battle cry, rose up over the sound of waves and wind.

“Again!” Garrosh yelled, racing forward to the bow, quivering like an eager wolf on the hunt as they drew yet closer to the ship.

The mast was now broken on the Alliance vessel, but Cairne could make out a figure on the deck frantically waving the white flag of surrender. If Garrosh noticed it, he gave no sign. As soon as Mannoroth’s Bones was close enough, he let out a howl and leaped to the enemy vessel, a weapon in each hand, and began to attack the humans.

Cairne turned away, sickened. Legally Garrosh was right, but by any other reckoning, morally or spiritually, what he was doing was wrong. Horribly wrong, and Cairne darkly wondered how the spirits would exact their revenge upon the Horde, or Garrosh, or perhaps even him, Cairne Bloodhoof, for standing by and permitting it to happen.

It was over quickly, too quickly, as far as the orcs were concerned. Garrosh, somewhat to Cairne’s surprise, actually shouted to his troops to “Hold!” after only a few moments. The tauren pricked his long ears up and moved close, straining to see and hear what Garrosh would do next.

“Bring me the captain!” Garrosh demanded. A short while later, a troll, holding a human male tightly by both arms, hurried over and tossed the hapless captain to the deck.

Garrosh prodded the figure with a foot. “You are in Horde waters, Alliance dog.”

The man, sinewy, tall for his race, and tanned, with short-cropped black hair and