World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,125

good, Varian had to give him that. He managed to block Varian’s blows fully four times before the king dodged a counterattack and stabbed the dwarf through the gap in his armor between arm and breastplate.

He whirled, sweeping one sword parallel to the ground, biting through the armor of another guard. This one cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Varian kicked him in the face, then severed his head from his shoulders with the second sword. He didn’t even see the head strike the ground, his eyes searching for where the next attack would be.

His team was already inside the High Seat, quickly and ruthlessly dispatching any opposition they found there. Of course, at this hour Moira would not be sitting on her stolen throne. She would be in one of the private back rooms, asleep, with her brat of a child.

Varian rushed forward, his focus narrowing so that the door to the false queen’s private rooms was the only thing he thought of. He ran full tilt toward it, turning at the last minute to slam it with a plated shoulder. It did not yield. Again he slammed into it, and again, and then two more assassins were there, putting their shoulders to the task.

The door splintered, and they half-ran, half-fell inside. They were attacked almost at once. Varian heard a woman screaming and the shriek of a frightened infant. He paid it no mind, slashing out with his swords at the two dwarves who charged him. They fell quickly, their blood spattering him. One of his swords was lodged firmly in the midsection of one, and after a quick attempt to tug it free Varian abandoned the weapon. He whirled, gripping the remaining sword with both hands, and sought his prey.

Moira Bronzebeard, wearing a nightgown, her hair in disarray and her eyes wide with terror, stood on the bed. Varian ripped off the mask that had covered the lower part of his face, and Moira gasped with recognition. In two strides Varian had her. He seized her arm, hauling her off the bed. She struggled, but his hand had clamped down around her upper arm like a manacle.

She stumbled as he pulled her out of the room, but he didn’t care. Varian marched out into the open area near the forge, where crowds were starting to gather, dragging the struggling dwarf behind him. He hauled her to him roughly with one arm.

His other hand was at her throat, pressing the sword against the pale flesh.

“Behold the usurper!” Varian cried, his identity no longer secret, his voice echoing in the vast space. “This is the child Magni Bronzebeard wept countless tears over. His beloved little girl. How sickened he would be to see what she’s done to his city, his people!”

The gathered crowd stared. Even the Dark Irons did not dare make a move, not with their empress in such immediate jeopardy.

“This throne is not yours. You bought it with deceit, and lies, and trickery. You have threatened your own subjects when they have done nothing wrong, and bullied your way to a title you have not yet earned. I will not see you sit upon this stolen throne one moment longer!”

“Father!”

The voice cut through the haze of Varian’s rage, and for just an instant the blade he held to Moira’s throat wavered. Then he recovered. He did not take his eyes from the dwarf as he replied.

“You shouldn’t be here, Anduin. Get out. This is no place for you.”

“But it is my place!” The voice was coming closer, moving through the crowd toward him. Moira’s gaze darted from Varian to, presumably, his son, but she made no attempt to beg for aid. Probably because she knew any movement other than her eyes would result in the sword’s being plunged deep into her pale throat.

“You sent me here! You wanted me to get to know the dwarven people, and I have. I knew Magni well, and I was here when Moira came. I saw what turmoil her arrival brought. And I saw that things got far too close to civil war when people reached for weapons to solve their problems with her. Whatever you may think of her, she is the rightful heir!”

“Maybe her blood’s right,” snarled Varian, “but her mind’s not. She’s under a spell, Son; Magni always thought so. She tried to keep you prisoner. She’s holding a bunch of people for no reason.” Making sure his grip was solid, he turned his head slightly.