intend to have a new leader appointed. However, the Watchers will play a different role than what we need from you, Jarod.”
“Me? I do not understand.”
“Once, you ably commanded warriors—and even demigods—in battle for us. With my husband’s agreement, I would have you lead a new security force, one designed to deal with troubles . . . such as Maiev.”
“I am honored . . . and will gratefully accept.”
“Shalasyr would be very proud of you, Jarod,” the high priestess added.
He tried to reply, but could not find his voice. Shalasyr’s face filled his thoughts, and, for a moment, Jarod forgot that Tyrande and Malfurion stood before him.
“I . . . like to think so,” he finally answered. “I can only hope so. She was so much more full of life than me. She should have been the one to live on.”
“The choice is not ours. How we honor those who have passed on with the way we continue our lives is.”
“You sound like Shalasyr.”
The high priestess put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “In regards to Maiev, Shandris will assist you in choosing from among the Sentinels some possible candidates for your new force.”
“I thank all three of you.”
“We will talk more after this.”
“I will not let you down.” Jarod bowed, then quickly stepped away.
As Tyrande and Malfurion headed toward the summit, Malfurion leaned close and whispered, “Sending him to Shandris? What are you doing?”
“Thinking of the future . . . ,” she replied with a thoughtful smile, “and when the time is more appropriate for them.”
He held back any further comment as they entered among the representatives. Malfurion noted the swiftness with which the last emissaries sat and knew that it could only mean that Varian Wrynn had arrived.
Sure enough, Tyrande surreptitiously touched his hand. He glanced her way and in doing so found Varian striding to his place among the others as if he were not the one who had succeeded in bringing them together again. The king of Stormwind sat down, then looked to Malfurion.
The archdruid took his cue. Stepping forth, he raised his staff. Silence filled the gathering.
“We thank you for coming here and again being our guests,” he told them as Tyrande stood next to him. “With the events in Ashenvale, time has grown more precious, and so, if there is no objection, there is one among you who would speak and who, I believe, should be heard.” With one hand, he indicated Varian. “I present to all of you, King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. . . .”
The other rulers and representatives began to applaud, but Varian waved them to silence. He studied them all, then shook his head.
“You shouldn’t be applauding me. Not a man who is supposed to rule by reason but did so by rage instead.”
His self-condemnation brought concerned murmuring from his audience. Malfurion looked to Tyrande, who smiled in reassurance.
“An unreasoning, unfocused rage that brought calamity on me and all I held dear and served only to divide the Alliance”—Varian’s expression forbade anyone to deny what he said—“and for the latter, I apologize.”
It was no small thing for Varian to apologize for anything, and no one there thought him any weaker for it. The story of his actions in Ashenvale was already becoming legend despite his desiring otherwise.
“The Varian Wrynn who reigned with such rage is dead!” he declared. “But in dying, he learned that it wasn’t the rage that was at fault, only he! The fury, the anger, must have purpose! It must be the righteous anger of one defending his family, his home, and his friends! It must be the fury that keeps all he loves safe from those who would rip them from him. . . .”
“Hear, hear!” rumbled an enthusiastic Thargas Anvilmar. The other dwarves glanced in his direction, but out of what seemed more satisfaction with his response than annoyance.
“And now is the time to focus that fury!” the lord of Stormwind continued without pause. “Now is when we need the worgen most, not only for their own fury and fire, but to help guide all of us to safely and rightly unleash this side of us! This is our only way to defeat the Horde and, I will say it, perhaps even bring down the terrible black dragon Deathwing himself!”
Malfurion finally understood where Varian was heading and nodded. Tyrande leaned close and murmured, “You see? We had faith it would work out and it did.”
“You had faith. I am still learning.”
At that moment, the king