World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,56

received. Finally he just spoke simply and truthfully. “Father wishes me to be a warrior,” he said. “I’ve always known that in his heart, that’s what he wants for me.”

Magni placed his hand on Anduin’s shoulder. “Och, he might want that, right enough, because it’s what he is. But yer father is a good man. In the end, he’ll want ye to do what’s right for ye, and fer the kingdom. There’s no shame in healing, lad, in loving th’ Light, in inspiring people and giving them hope. None at all. That’s looking out fer the good o’ yer kingdom just as much as fighting for it is.”

Anduin felt a shiver run through him, but it was not unpleasant. Far from it; it was a shudder almost of … knowing. And it left in its wake a strange calmness and contentment. A priest. Someone who worked with the Light to do its work to heal, not harm, someone who inspired others by clearing their heads and asking them to give their best, rather than inflaming their darker emotions. He thought about the peace that always bathed him any time he entered the cathedral or the Mystic Ward here in Ironforge. A longing seized his soul for more of that. It felt almost like coming home to hear the dwarven king speak so. He looked at Magni, his eyes searching those of this powerful warrior and great king.

“Do … do you really believe that?”

“Aye, I do. And while we’ll find another arms trainer fer ye, I’d be right pleased tae see ye start talking seriously wi’ High Priest Rohan.”

Anduin didn’t want another arms trainer. He wanted Aerin, cheerful and pragmatic and blunt. But he nodded. “I will, sir.”

“Good!” They finished their meal, chatting quietly, and when the last grape had been popped into Anduin’s mouth and the last drop of ale had been consumed by Magni, the dwarf patted his belly and smiled at the human prince. “Now, then, we should both get some sleep. But afore then, I’ve got summat fer ye.”

He slid out of the chair and trundled over to an old chest. Anduin followed, curious. The chest groaned in protest as Magni lifted the lid. Inside were several cloth-covered items whose shapes led Anduin to believe they were weapons. Magni selected one and lifted it out, carefully unwrapping it.

It was indeed a weapon, a mace, gleaming as bright as the day it was made although it had to be quite old. The head was silver, wrapped in intersecting bands of gold that had runes etched into it. Small gems dotted it here and there. It was altogether a lovely and graceful thing of beauty and power.

“This,” said Magni reverently, “is Fearbreaker. It is an old weapon, Anduin. Several hundred years. This was handed down through the Bronzebeard line. It’s seen battles in Outland and here in Azeroth. It’s known th’ taste o’ blood, and in certain hands, has been known tae also stanch blood. Here, take it. Hold it in yer hand. Let’s see if it likes ye.” Magni winked.

More than a little intimidated—the weapon was large for one so slight as he to wield—Anduin extended a hand and grasped the shaft of the mace. At once he felt a cool calmness spread from the weapon to his hand, and from there throughout his whole body. He found himself inhaling and letting the breath out as a sigh, found his body—tense for so long from effort and pain both emotional and physical—relaxing. Uncertainty and worry were not banished, not quite, but they receded through Fearbreaker’s touch of metal against skin.

Just as he opened his mouth to comment on the sensation, he could have sworn the weapon … glowed, slightly.

“As I suspected,” Magni said. “It does like ye.”

“It’s … alive?”

“Nay, nay, but, lad, ye know as well as I, as well as anyone who wields a weapon—they have their likes an’ their dislikes, same as people. They can be persnickety at times. I thought ye and Fearbreaker might be a good match. ’Tis yers.”

Anduin gaped. “I—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Oh, aye, ye can, an’ ye will. Fearbreaker has sat here fer some time now, waiting fer the right hand tae wield it. Ye may not be an armsman like yer father, but ye can fight the good fight. Fearbreaker proves it. Go on, lad. If ever a thing was meant fer someone, that weapon was meant fer ye.”

Anduin blinked. He teared up quickly these days, but somehow, holding the beautifully wrought