World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,38

of the elements were. But this part of him, this elemental manifestation, had been defiant, uncooperative. And it had not been alone. It was part of a disturbing trend of elements that were sullen and rebellious rather than cooperative. And in the end, Thrall had had to completely dominate it. Other shaman were now calling rain to soak the city in case there was another aberrant spark that persisted in its course of devastation.

Thrall stood in the rain, letting it soak him, pour off his massive green shoulders, and drip down his arms.

What in the name of the ancestors was happening?

“Well, of course we can do it,” said Gazlowe. “I mean, we’re goblins, of course we can do it, you know what I’m saying? We did it in the first place, after all. So yes, Warchief, we can rebuild those parts of Orgrimmar that were damaged. Don’t you worry about that.”

Two Kor’kron stood a few paces away, massive axes strapped to their backs, powerful arms folded, watching the scene and silently guarding their warchief. Thrall was talking with the goblin who, along with several others, had helped construct Orgrimmar several years ago. He was clever, intelligent, more scrupulous and less annoying than most of his brethren, but even so, he was a goblin, so Thrall was waiting for the other boot to drop.

“Well, that’s good. And how much are we looking at?”

The goblin reached into the small sack he had brought with him and pulled out an abacus. His long, clever, green fingers flew across it as he murmured to himself, “… carry the one … factor in the cost of supplies at a postwar rate … and of course labor’s gone up …”

He retrieved a piece of charcoal and a sheet of parchment and scribbled down a number that made the orc’s robust green skin turn sickly. “That much?” Thrall asked, disbelieving.

Gazlowe looked uncomfortable. “Look … tell you what … you’ve been awfully good to us, and you’ve been more than scrupulous in your business affairs. How about …”

He wrote a second figure down. It was less than the first figure, but only marginally. Thrall handed the paper over to Eitrigg, who whistled softly.

“We will need more supplies,” was all Thrall said. He rose and left without another word. The Kor’kron fell into silent step behind him. Gazlowe looked after Thrall.

“I am guessing that’s a yes. That’s a yes, isn’t it?” he asked Eitrigg. The elderly orc nodded, his eyes narrowing as, from out of the open door, he watched Thrall’s shape grow smaller and smaller as he left Grommash Hold.

Though Thrall was a well-known figure in Orgrimmar, the inhabitants of the city were always courteous enough to give their warchief space. The Kor’kron who shadowed him helped encourage that attitude. If Thrall wanted to wander the streets of his capital city, well, then, good for him. So it was that Thrall found his feet taking him on dusty roads still covered in ash, breathing air that was still thick and smelled of char. He needed to walk, to move, to think. His bodyguards knew him well enough to keep back and let him do so.

The sum Gazlowe quoted was astronomical. Yet it would have to be done. Orgrimmar was the capital of the Horde. It could not be permitted to stay damaged. Unfortunately, the tragedy only emphasized the two great issues that consumed Thrall’s thoughts every waking moment and during his dreams as well: Why were the elements so agitated, and how best could he lead this postwar Horde?

The decision he had reached during his conversation with Eitrigg was the right one. Thrall realized he needed to go to the home of his people—to Nagrand, where a legacy of shamanism had been practiced and understood for so long its origins had been swallowed by time. Geyah was wise and her mind still sharp. She, and those she had personally trained, would have answers he could not possibly find here in Azeroth. Answers to questions Thrall didn’t even know he should be asking. The more he thought about it, the more it called to his soul as the right thing, the absolutely perfectly right thing, to do. The shaman of Outland had learned how to help a broken world. They could help the distressed elements in Azeroth.

Thrall also knew this was no self-indulgent vision quest for his own peace of mind. His people were enduring great hardships. Even verdant Mulgore was starting to feel the effects of the drought