World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,45

squeak. “Dink, look out for—”

“Ouch!” A second something small and hard and moving fast slammed into Anduin’s thigh, causing his legs—already weak from the training he’d received earlier—to buckle. Before he could recover, he’d fallen on his knees on the cold stone floor. He winced, but did not utter a cry as he slowly rose.

“Terribly sorry about that!” Anduin peered down at two gnomes. They looked like brother and sister. Both had white hair and blue eyes that were now wide with embarrassment. They both wore robes in shades of yellow and blue. The female was holding a book and starting to blush. “I’m afraid I got caught up in this. Wasn’t looking where I was going. Don’t know what Dink’s excuse is!”

“I was following you, Bink!” said the male, who was apparently named Dink. “Sorry, young fellow. Sometimes we get a little too focused around here for our own good!”

“Our good and others,” Bink said, smiling winningly. She attempted to brush the dust off Anduin’s knees solicitously. Anduin winced and stepped back, forcing a smile. “So terribly sorry!”

“That’s all right,” he said. “I should be more careful, too.”

They both beamed up at him at the same instant, then bowed and scurried off. Amused but hurting, Anduin watched them go.

“Here now, lad,” came a deep, kindly voice. “Let me take care o’ that for ye.”

A sudden pleasant warmth seeped gently through Anduin, and he turned to see an elderly dwarf chanting softly while moving his hands. His long, white beard had two braids and a third ponytail. The top of his head was quite bald, with a ponytail in back and long fringes on the side. His green eyes crinkled in a smile. A heartbeat later, Anduin realized all the pain was gone—the stinging of his bumped knees, the aches and stiffness of his training. He felt rested, refreshed, as if he’d just awoken from a good night’s sleep.

“Thank you.”

“Ye’re welcome, lad. Might ye be th’ young prince o’ Stormwind we’ve been told tae expect?”

Anduin nodded and stuck out his hand. “Pleased to meet you … ?”

“High Priest Rohan. Light’s blessing be on ye. How do ye find our glorious city?”

“By taking the Deeprun Tram,” Anduin quipped, the old joke escaping before he realized it. His eyes widened, and his cheeks reddened. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

To his surprise and relief, the high priest threw back his balding head and laughed heartily. “Och, I’ve not heard that one in far too long. I walked ri’ into it, did I not?” The guffaw subsided to a chuckle.

Anduin relaxed, grinning a little himself. “It’s a really bad joke. I apologize.”

“Well, I’ll fergive ye if ye can come up with some better ones,” Rohan said.

“I’ll try. …”

“Far too little laughter these days, says I. Och, the Light’s serious business, but then again, ye cannot be Lighthearted without a little humor, can ye?”

Anduin eyed him dubiously, wondering if it would be disrespectful if he groaned at the pun. His expression did not go unnoticed, but Rohan only smiled the more. “Aye, I ken, ’tis a poor joke, which is why I hope ye’ll teach me some new ones. In the meantime, what brings ye to the Hall of Mysteries?”

Suddenly serious, Anduin said, “I just … I just missed the Light.”

The old dwarf smiled gently, and this time his voice was soft and serious, though no less full of joy. “It is never far, lad. We carry it in ourselves, although ’tis true, seeking the company of others in a special place feeds th’ soul. Ye are welcome here any time, Anduin Wrynn.”

No title. Anduin knew he did not have one before the Light, and neither did Rohan. He remembered his father saying once, after he had been home for a time, that if it were not for Anduin, and for the people of Stormwind who relied upon him, Varian would have been content to remain Lo’Gosh, fighting in the ring. It was an uncomplicated and straightforward, if short and brutish, existence, lacking all the complexities of royal life.

As he walked up the curving stairway to the quieter rooms above, the soft blue light augmented by the glowing orange of the braziers here and there, he realized that he understood his father’s longing. Not for the violence of the ring and the threat of sudden death each day: his father might crave the fight, but not he. No, what Anduin longed for was the seemingly elusive luxury of peace. Peace to sit in quiet contemplation,