Irons are on the lookout for ye.”
“We’ll just have to be careful,” Anduin said. “And I’ll have to stoop. Come on!”
The eighteen assassins and the king of Stormwind scrambled out of the Deeprun Tram track and onto the platform. They were met by several Dark Iron dwarves. It was a one-sided fight, and the SI:7 team quickly and ruthlessly dispatched Moira’s guards. The fight had attracted some attention, and a little crowd of mostly gnomes now stared at the men and women in masks and black leather, unsure if they were rescuers or new foes.
“Dinna worry,” Graddock reassured them. “We’ve come fer Moira and her people, not the good folk of Ironforge.”
The gnomes, who had been clustered together, gave a cheer.
They hurried on, heading toward the Hall of Explorers, which would be quiet at this time of night. From there, it was a straight shot across the Great Forge to the High Seat. The gnome named Brink scouted ahead and reported back.
“Twenty-three,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Ten are Dark Iron guards.”
“Only ten? I expected more,” Graddock said. “Let’s go.”
In the end Anduin did not have to stoop. One of the priestesses was an alchemist and had readily agreed to mix up an invisibility potion. “It will nae last very long,” she cautioned. “An’ it tastes nasty tae boot.”
“I can run pretty fast,” Anduin assured her, taking the small vial. He uncorked it and coughed at the fumes. The priestess was right—it certainly smelled nasty.
“Bottoms up,” he said and lifted it to his lips.
“Hold a moment, lad,” Rohan said. “There’s summat going on out there. …”
There was a commotion out in the main area. Various guards were running about, looking grimmer than usual.
“Och, I hope ye’ve not been spotted,” Rohan said quietly. One of the guards started jogging toward the Hall of Mysteries, and Anduin crouched back in the shadows, prepared to chug the potion, if need be.
“Healers! Come quickly, ye’re needed!”
“What is it?” Rohan said, giving a fairly good impression of someone who had just been roused from sleep.
“There’s been fighting at the Deeprun Tram,” the Dark Iron guard said.
“Really?” Rohan kept his voice pitched loud for Anduin’s benefit. “How many? And is th’ site contained?”
“About ten, and nay, there seems to be fighting in th’ Great Forge area, too. Bring all yer priests! Now!”
Rohan cast a quick, apologetic glance over his shoulder, then gathered his supplies and hurried off along with the other priests. Anduin was on his own.
“Too late,” he murmured to himself. If Varian and the team of assassins were already at the forge—
His mouth set in a grim line, then he lifted the potion to his lips and gulped it down, grimacing at the taste.
Then Anduin Wrynn ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward the High Seat, Moira … and his father.
The first few guards were dispatched quietly. The group skidded to a halt and caught their breaths, melding with the shadows. Right across the forge was the High Seat … and there were several Dark Irons in the way.
“We’ll split into two groups. You,” and Graddock pointed to nine of his followers, “stay wi’ me. We’ll tackle th’ guards at th’ forge. The rest of ye, go wi’ Varian. Get him tae Moira, no matter the cost. Is that clear?”
They all nodded. Despite the odds that stared them in the face, none of them looked particularly distressed. As Varian watched, Brink even yawned and stretched. He supposed this was all in a day’s work for them, just as slaughtering foes twice his size had been his “job” as a gladiator.
“All right, then. Let’s be about it.”
And with no further warning, the first group moved forward. Varian, whose eyes had gotten used to seeing them after the hours they had spent together this night, blinked as they became indistinguishable from the shadows. And then the cries started as the assassins attacked—cutting throats, picking up the startled dwarves and hurling them into the molten liquid pools of the forge.
“Go, go!” It was Brink, elbowing Varian in the thigh. He needed no further urging. His group began to run at full speed along the length of the Great Forge. The Dark Iron guards stationed there met them halfway, roaring challenges. Pleased to finally be in an open, one-on-one swordfight after sneaking around all night, Varian shouted a battle cry and fell eagerly on the first one. Swords clashed against axe blade and shield, striking sparks in the dim light. The Dark Iron was