World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,132

Cairne’s brow, then, gently, reverently, picked up the smallest piece of the broken runespear. He turned it in his hand, and a shiver went through him.

The piece he had selected bore the single rune: Healing. He would keep this, to remember Cairne by. To always be in touch with his heart.

Thrall jumped lightly to the earth and began to walk slowly toward the setting sun. He did not look back.

The wind was slightly chill after the sun had gone, Thrall reflected. There was much that yet needed to be discussed with Baine, much planning that still needed to be done. Yet before that Thrall desired a little time to sit with Aggra in this peaceful land. She had never been here, but like him had responded to the gentleness and tranquility of the place. She—

A continent away, Drek’Thar, who had been dozing, bolted upright. A scream was torn from his throat.

“The oceans will boil!”

The ocean bed cracked open, and miles away, the tide drew back from Stormwind Harbor like a curtain. Ships were suddenly grounded, and citizens of that city out for a pleasant afternoon stroll along the beautiful stone harbor paused, shielded their eyes against the light of the setting sun, and murmured to one another, idly curious.

The ocean drew in upon itself for but a moment. Then what had pulled back began to return, with a lethal intensity. A towering wave bore down upon the harbor. The great vessels that had sailed to such exotic, faraway places as Auberdine and Valiance Keep were smashed to so much kindling, like toy ships beneath an angry child’s foot. Debris and bodies now crashed into the docks, destroying them just as easily and quickly, sweeping away the now-screaming pedestrians as the water rushed implacably forward. The water rose, drowning engines of war and crates of medical supplies with equal ruthlessness.

It did not stop there. It continued to climb, until even the mighty stone lions that stood watch over the harbor were completely submerged. Only then did it seem to halt.

Miles to the south, a crack in the earth off the coastline of Westfall had created a huge sinkhole. The ocean was angry, and frightened, and it vented its terror upon the land, and the land responded in despair.

Drek’Thar clung to Palkar, shaking him, shouting, “The land will weep, and the world will break!”

The earth split beneath Thrall.

He leaped aside, landing and rolling and getting swiftly to his feet only to be knocked off them again. The ground beneath him surged upward as if he were riding the back of a great creature, lifting him up and up. He clung to it, unable to rise and flee, and even if he did flee, to where?

Earth, soil, and stone, I ask of you calmness. Share with me what it is you fear, name it, and I will—

The earth did have a voice, and now it screamed, a rumbling, agonizing cry.

Thrall felt the rip in the world. It was not here, not in Thunder Bluff, nor even in Kalimdor—it was to the east, in the midst of the ocean, in the center of the Maelstrom. … This, then, was what the elements had been so afraid of. A shattering, a cataclysm, breaking the earth as Draenor had been broken. Through his connection with them, their terror surged through him, and he, too, threw back his head and shrieked for a long moment before unconsciousness claimed him.

He awoke to the tender touch of beloved fingers on his face, opening his eyes to see Aggra looking down at him with a worried expression. She relaxed as he gave her a weak smile.

“You are tougher than you look, Slave,” she teased him, though her voice conveyed her relief. “I thought you had decided to join the ancestors there for a few moments.”

He looked around and realized he was in one of the tents atop Thunder Bluff, maybe in Spirit Rise. Baine was standing beside him.

“We found you lying on the earth, a short distance from the funeral grounds, and brought you here, my friend,” said Baine. He smiled slightly. “My father loved you in life, Thrall, son of Durotan,” he said. “But I do not think he would have you join him in death quite so soon.”

Thrall struggled to sit up. “The warning Gordawg gave us,” he said. “We were too late.”

Her eyes were compassionate. “I know. But I also know exactly where the wound was made.”

“In the Maelstrom,” Thrall said. “I got that much before I