World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,5

crushed the Scourge and taken the fighting spirit out of the rest of our enemies, as we came here to do. It is my belief that my former advisor will sit and watch spiders spin cobwebs and fully enjoy the peace he so obviously craves.”

The words might have stung another. Cairne bridled on Saurfang’s behalf—after what the older orc had endured, Garrosh’s words were particularly harsh. Saurfang, however, clearly had grown used to Garrosh’s attitude and merely grunted.

“We have both done our duties. We serve the Horde. If I serve by watching little spiders instead of fighting large ones, then I am well content.”

“And I must serve the Horde by bringing its victorious soldiers safely home,” Cairne said. “Garrosh, which of your soldiers is assigned the task of directing the withdrawal?”

“I,” Garrosh said, surprising Cairne. “Such as it is. We all have shoulders to carry items.” Once downtrodden and ashamed of his heritage, Garrosh had struck the old tauren as a youth who would require a specially shaped doorway to accommodate his swollen head. And yet he did not hesitate to do the basest task right alongside his soldiers. Cairne smiled, pleased. He suddenly understood a bit better why the orcs Garrosh led admired him so deeply.

“My shoulders are more stooped than they once were, but I daresay they can bear what they need to,” Cairne said. “Let us get to work.”

It was the work of less than two days to finish packing the supplies that would accompany the troops, load them onto kodos, and transport them to the ship. As they worked, many of the orcs and trolls sang songs in their harsh, guttural tongues. Cairne understood Orcish and Zandali, and smiled at the discrepancies between the actions of the songs and what was actually transpiring. Trolls and orcs blithely sang of chopping off arms and legs and heads while tying boxes onto the backs of the mellow pack kodos. Still, their spirits were high, and Garrosh sang as loudly as any of them.

At one point, as they were walking side by side carrying crates to the ship, Cairne asked, “Why did you leave your landing site, Garrosh?”

Garrosh shifted the weight on his shoulder. “It was never intended to be a permanent site. Not when Warsong Hold was so close.”

Cairne eyed the great hall and the tower. “Then why build these?”

Garrosh did not answer. Cairne let him remain silent for a time. Garrosh might be many things, but the taciturn type he was not. He would speak … eventually.

And sure enough, Garrosh said after a moment, “We built these when we landed. At first there was no trouble. Then a foe unlike any I have encountered came out of the mists. It does not sound as if you have been troubled by them but, I confess, I have wondered if they would return.”

A foe so powerful as to give Garrosh pause? “What is this enemy that gave you such trouble?” Cairne asked.

“They are called the Kvaldir,” Garrosh said. “The tuskarr think they are the angered spirits of slain vrykul.” Cairne exchanged glances with Maaklu Cloudcaller, the tauren who happened to be walking alongside them. Cloudcaller was a shaman, and as he regarded Cairne he nodded slightly. None of Cairne’s landing party had personally seen the vrykul, but Cairne knew of them. They looked like humans—if humans were larger than tauren and sometimes had skin that was covered in ice, or made of metal or stone. They were definitely full of violence and power. Cairne was comfortable with the idea of being surrounded by spirits, but those were tauren ancestors. Their presence was positive. The thought of vrykul ghosts haunting this place was not a pleasant one. Cloudcaller, too, looked a bit uneasy at the notion.

“They come when the mists are thickest. The tuskarr say that is what enables them to manifest,” Garrosh continued. He sounded skeptical. Too, there was a strange tone in his voice. Embarrassment?

“They terrified many of my warriors and were so powerful they forced us to withdraw to Warsong Hold. I was finally able to take back this site when the Lich King fell.”

And there was the shame. Not in seeing “ghosts,” if indeed they were such, but in being forced to run from them. No wonder Garrosh had not mentioned why he had abandoned Garrosh’s Landing, a place he might logically feel some pride in and fondness for.

Cairne kept his gaze carefully averted from the scowling Garrosh, who was clearly ready to defend his honor