World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,121
did not let up. The waters rose, despite Jaina’s dragon head trying to keep them at bay. Jaina was pushing herself well past the point of exhaustion, renewing the spell every few minutes, issuing orders, and aiding the refugees. As the waters climbed, more and more people sought refuge in the citadel, sitting on the wooden floors of its many stories. Eventually Anduin was fairly certain that the citadel, the guard quarters, and the inn housed everyone who lived in Theramore.
Finally, toward dusk of the second day, Jaina resigned herself to sitting down and eating and drinking something. She had changed clothes several times, and this current change of clothing was now sopping wet. Anduin drew a seat for her by the fire in her small, cozy room and brought her some tea. Jaina was shaking so badly that the cup rattled in the saucer as she lifted bloodshot, exhausted eyes to him.
“I think you need to return home. There’s no knowing when the flooding is going to stop, and I can’t risk your safety.”
Anduin looked unhappy. “I can help,” he said. “I won’t do anything foolish, Jaina, you know I won’t.”
She reached out as if to tousle his blond hair but seemed too weak to complete the gesture. Her hand fell limply into her lap, and she sighed.
“Well, it’s not as if you’d see your father,” she murmured, taking a sip of tea.
“What do you mean?”
Jaina froze, the cup halfway to the saucer. She lifted wide eyes to Anduin, and he saw the look of someone desperately searching for a comforting falsehood but too exhausted mentally to find it.
“What about my father? Where is he?” And then he knew. He stared at her, horrified. “He’s going to attack Ironforge, isn’t he?”
“Anduin,” Jaina began, “Moira is a tyrant. She—”
“Moira? Come on, Aunt Jaina, you have to tell me what he’s doing!”
In a voice that was heavy with resignation and trembling with weariness, Jaina spoke, confirming his worst fears.
“Varian is taking an elite strike team to Ironforge. Their mission is to execute Moira and liberate the city.”
Anduin couldn’t believe his ears. “How are they getting in?”
“Through the Deeprun Tram passageway.”
“They’ll be spotted.”
Jaina rubbed her eyes. “Anduin, we’re talking SI:7 people. They won’t be spotted.”
Anduin shook his head slowly. “No, they won’t. Jaina, you’re right. I do need to leave Theramore.”
She frowned, the little crease on her forehead more prominent with her weariness. “No. You are not going to Ironforge!”
He almost growled in exasperation. “Jaina, listen to me, please! You’ve always been reasonable; you’ve got to be reasonable now. Moira’s done some bad things—locked down the city, put innocent people in jail. But she didn’t kill King Magni and she is his daughter. She’s the rightful heir, and her son after her. Some of the things she wants to do, I approve of—she’s just trying to do the right things the wrong way.”
“Anduin, she is holding a whole city—Ironforge, the dwarven capital—hostage.”
“Because she doesn’t know them yet. Doesn’t trust them. Jaina, in some ways, she’s just a frightened little girl who wanted her father to love her.”
“Scared little girls who rule cities do dangerous things, and they need to be stopped.”
“By being killed? Or do they need to be guided? She wants the dwarves to take another look at their heritage. To reach out to the Dark Irons as the brethren they are. Is that worth being murdered for? And maybe her child along with her? Listen to me, Jaina, please. If Father carries out this attack, a lot of people are going to die, and the succession will be thrown into confusion. Instead of coming together as a people, the dwarves are going to find themselves in the midst of another civil war! I’ve got to try to stop him, don’t you see? Make him understand that there’s another way.”
“No, absolutely not! You are thirteen years old, with insufficient training, and the heir to the throne besides. Do you think it would help Stormwind if you got yourself killed?” She took a deep breath and paused, thinking hard. He stayed silent. “All right. If you are set on doing this—and you might be right—I’m coming with you. Give me a few hours to contain the situation here and—”
“He’s on his way now. We don’t have the luxury of a few hours, you know that! I know Father, and so do you. You know that whatever is going to happen, it’s going to be bad, and it’s going to happen quickly. I