World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,50
folk, then,” Aerin said practically.
Anduin glanced around. Now that he looked at them, he realized that what he was seeing was the blood left by a healed injury, not an injury itself. Most of those still actually injured were mobile, upright, and talking. This was not an emergency site, although it was clear that the priests were being kept busy and would be for some time.
“They don’t need it,” he said quietly. “I want to help those that really do. Please—let’s go to Kharanos.”
Her eyes searched his and she sighed. “All right. But I’m nae letting ye wander into danger, got that?”
He smiled. “Fine, but let’s hurry, all right?”
THIRTEEN
Anduin hung on tightly to the great ram as it took the slick, icy path from Ironforge to the small villages in its shadow at a full gallop. He had no choice but to trust in the ram’s sure hooves, and he realized somewhat to his surprise his trust seemed to be well placed. There wasn’t a single stumble. The large beasts were actually more comfortable to ride than horses, he had found, but that still didn’t mean he enjoyed the breakneck pace of the trip.
As they approached Kharanos, they were greeted by several of the mountaineers stationed there.
“Hurry! Several are trapped in town!” one of them cried. “Give me yer ram, lass! I’ve got tae ride tae Ironforge and get more help!”
Immediately Aerin slipped off and handed the reins over to the mountaineer, who vaulted into the saddle and took off. Without a word Aerin quickly climbed up behind Anduin and they hurried on grimly.
The injuries were much more severe here. Anduin saw nearly a dozen people being treated right out in the open, as almost all of the buildings were damaged in some way. He looked around for Rohan, and found him kneeling over an elderly dwarf female. Anduin slipped off the ram and hurried to the high priest just in time to see him pull a sheet over the still form.
Rohan looked up, his eyes looking older than Anduin had ever seen them. “Prince Anduin,” he said, “I thought ye might come. Know some first aid training, do ye?”
Anduin nodded. “And I’m no dwarf, but I’ve got a pretty strong back,” he said. “I hear people are trapped inside.”
“Aye,” he said, “but it’s healers we’re short of, nae strong backs. Aerin, lass, go help the others; I’ll put our boy tae work here.”
“Aye,” Aerin said, “let’s get these people out o’ danger and into th’ fresh air!”
And for the next several hours Anduin was indeed put to work. As more and more victims of the quake were pulled from the rubble, Rohan healed those with the most grievous injuries, leaving those with minor wounds to Anduin. He bathed and bandaged and smiled and reassured, and at one point saw Rohan looking at him approvingly.
He thought about his father as he worked. Varian was a warrior. Anduin knew that he was not. Sparring and the thought of dealing injury had never made the human prince feel the way he did now, when he was doing something concrete to ease pain instead of cause it, to help people instead of harm them. Oh, war was a dark and dire necessity sometimes, as was the case in Northrend, but Anduin knew in his heart that he would always long for, and strive for, peace. The injuries here, caused by nature and unavoidable, were bad enough. Anduin did not want to think how he would feel if he were treating those wounded in battle and not by the accidental fall of rocks.
Someone had set up a cauldron and filled it with snow. The resulting water was hot and clean. Anduin poured a small bit of a healing potion into a mug of water and added a few leaves of peacebloom to steep, then handed the mug to a young gnomish mother. She let her two children, a baby and a toddler, sip it first before taking a drink herself.
“You’re very kind, sir,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” he said, patting the baby’s tiny head and moving on to a cantankerous middle-aged dwarf male who was arguing with another healer. The priestess, a visiting night elf, was dabbing at a cut on the dwarf’s forehead that was bleeding profusely.
“I’m fine, curse ye, go an’ tend tae someone who’s really wounded, or I’ll make ye next in line wi’ a broken nose!”