Unity - Chapter 5
Oh hey, more notes: the stuff about the Forsaken is largely fanon I made up. I felt it made sense, and I hope you do too. Also, Merry Christmas!
Title: Unity
Part: 5 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4894 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst. Violence and death, more angst.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: Thrall makes several chilling discoveries, and Jaina gets shit done.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4
The Forsaken.
The Forsaken deserved sympathy. Once citizens of Lordaeron and Quel'thalas, they had been murdered by Arthas Menethil and brought back as the Scourge, only to break free when the Lich King's grip on the Scourge weakened. In looking for a new purpose, they had found it in revenge, and reclaimed the ruins of Lordaeron from the Scourge, led by the Dark Lady, the fallen Ranger-General of Silvermoon, Sylvanas Windrunner. The Forsaken could not go home, assuming they had one to go home to, and in so many cases, their homes were destroyed by the Scourge, or their own murderous rampages while they had been controlled by the Lich King.
It's not so different from our time being the thralls of demons, the Warchief of the Horde reasoned, carefully moving back to his body. Clutched in one hand were battle plans -- the spirits had not guided him to them, but he'd found them by watching the tauren move around, and used personal reserves of power to bring it into the spirit world with him. This would not last long, and he hoped he could move fast enough not to be caught. Except...
The Forsaken were cold. Where the orcs had been fierce, angry, hot-blooded at their betrayal, the Forsaken had an anger that was icy, bitter like the winds of Northrend. They were not vocal about their anger usually, but instead were quiet. They plotted and waited, and none so much as their Banshee Queen. Thrall had not met the former elf before she had died, so there was little room for comparison, but she was very frigid. She was often quiet, but when she spoke, her words held a great weight, and she was both beautiful and terrible to behold. Her people doted on her endlessly at a level that had discomforted Thrall. Sylvanas had sent him messages over the course of Winter, and the spirits had been vocally displeased at the presence of the heavily cowled and wrapped messengers.
Thrall had considered carefully the implications of Sylvanas' carefully penned letters: the Forsaken hated the Scourge, and feared the living. The surviving paladins of the Silver Hand had reformed under a new banner, that of the Scarlet Crusade, and they were bent on wiping them out, regardless of the fact that the Forsaken were no longer Scourge, and worse yet, even attacked the living if they were suspected to be infected by the Plague, and sometimes, the suspicion of infection went along with disagreement with Scarlet Crusade leadership. That had been worrying enough, because Thrall knew what it was like to deal with those who would always believe you were monsters, but Sylvanas had delivered news about Arthas and the Lich King, and her suspicions therein, which Thrall has naturally shared with his allies, including Jaina Proudmoore.
Bad enough to hear about Arthas' fall from grace after her departure to Kalimdor, but this... Thrall shook his head. And of course, having to explain where I got the information from. That had been during the Late Winter, and now, the Forsaken and the Horde had a tentative treaty of shared information, and mutual protection. The problem lay with actually having the Forsaken anywhere near Kalimdor.
The spirits were always more active in areas that were wilder. The spirits disliked being tame, and they were sparse amongst the carefully plowed and groomed fields of Hillsbrad or Tirisfal, but not so in Kalimdor: Kalimdor was wild, a haven for unruly elementals and helpful spirits, but with the spirits, came caution and restraint. Whereas a greedy and unwise leader might encourage expansion across the continent and clear out trees, this would drive the spirits away, and here, where their presence was stronger, it might even incur their wrath, something Thrall never wanted to do. So instead, their expansion was cautious, but the spirits were driven away by other things, like the undead.
Thrall did not understand precisely how one created the undead, and even Sylvanas' information was incomplete and riddled with guesswork. What did seem to happen is that it created a void within the spirit world, something about the state of the soul of the victim of the plague of Undeath, and it sent spirits fleeing. A Forsaken that spent too much time in one place outside of the Plaguelands caused the spirit world to bend and warp slightly. More, and this effect amplified. A population like the one in Undercity, the name of Lordaeron's underbelly that housed the Forsaken, would create a blight that would destroy a huge area in Kalimdor.
Thrall had done his best to explain this to Sylvanas, who had watched him with a shuttered expression and cold, dead eyes, and her lips had quirked in an upwards twitch, and simply said that she wouldn't want to upset the spirits or her new-found allies. This had been enough to keep most of the Forsaken away from Kalimdor, though an odd one cropped up now and then. The communication crystals that linked one part of Thrall's nation to another also let him get regular updates from Sylvanas. Their alliance was a very tentative, uncertain one, and now Thrall was regretting even agreeing to it.
If the Forsaken are involved in this travesty, then something needs to be done about it. Innocent lives were lost, but I don't see why this would interest them, it doesn't further any of their goals, and it's not something I would ever have condoned. It was murder, plain and simple. Making his way back to his body, he settled into it with the sensation of trying to fit something large into something small. He could feel his spiritual sense wiggle into place before he opened his eyes. The chill of the air hit him first, and he inhaled sharply.
"You're back, good," Shandel'zare said sharply. She was sitting in front of him, and appeared to have been watching him intently. "I've received word from Jaina Proudmoore that she has located Paval Reethe."
"Where is she?" Thrall demanded. Quickly, he grabbed his boots, and shoved his feet into them, fastening them quickly. He stood and handed her the battle plans. "We need to analyze these and see what they yield. Take care of it. I need to find Jaina."
"She's tracked them down to the northern watchtower, it's south of here," Shandel'zare replied, and frowned at him, taking the plans. "You found these?"
"I found a number of interesting things," Thrall replied tersely, and whistled sharply to Snowsong. "I'll deal with that later. This is important." He saddled his frostwolf immediately, and swung into her saddle. "You'll find me there."
"Warchief, I--" Shandel'zare began, but he was already riding off. Distantly, he heard her say, "But what about your clothes?"
~ * ~
The tower was easy enough to find: it was the one surrounded by human and elven guards. A lone dwarf stood at the entrance, standing at attention, both hands on his blunderbuss and his eye to the swamp. He gave Thrall a very unimpressed look as he rode up. The orc Warchief dismounted from Snowsong, and whispered to her, "Rest for a time, you've earned it, the spirits will protect me."
Snowsong gave him a canine sneeze, and loped a distance away, which only served to make the soldiers more nervous.
"What can I do fer yeh, Warchief?" the dwarf asked, and his dour expression could have been caused by a dozen things.
"I need to see Jaina," Thrall said without preamble. "Excuse me."
"She's a tad busy with Reethe," the dwarf replied evenly. "Ye'll have ter wait."
"This concerns him, there are things she doesn't know," Thrall insisted. "This is a waste of time. Please."
"Since ye asked so pretty," the dwarf muttered, and jerked his head towards the door. Thrall stepped into the tower. Guard towers were not meant to be large, or comfortable, and this was no different, but Thrall noticed that this one was extremely cold.
What could be-- Thrall thought, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. There was something glimmering in the semi-dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see what it was. There was a thin layer of frost covering everything, including the lamps that would have illuminated the inside of the tower. Within the room there were a half-dozen very large ice blocks which contained, as Thrall noticed with a start, human beings. A seventh, less complete ice block was in the middle of the room, with the man's head and neck exposed, and the rest of his body was totally encased in ice.
"You're going to tell me what's going on," he heard Jaina say, her voice as icy as the room. He watched her eyes glitter dangerously in the dim light, and he felt something constrict, rather sharply, in his chest.
"Not in your life, you traitorous bi--" An icicle slid closer to the underside of his chin, and the trapped human swallowed heavily.
"People are dead, Lieutenant Reethe," Jaina replied. "I'm not here to play games with you. I want to know what happened after you were sent to Lost Point Tower."
"I defected," Paval Reethe said, speaking carefully around the icicle. "That's all."
"He's lying," Thrall said quietly, and Jaina turned, though her concentration never wavered.
"I didn't think he was telling the truth..." Jaina replied, and he noticed the way her eyebrows raised, and her expression changed. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Thrall said, and moved to stand beside her. "I suggest you answer Jaina's questions."
"Filthy orc," Reethe spat, and the ice shifted and swirled, causing him to cry out.
"Jaina isn't the only one who knows how to break the ice," Thrall warned. "Excuse me for interrupting, Jaina."
"Not at all," Jaina murmured, and returned her gaze to Reethe, and she lost much of her good humour. "You were part of the agitators in Theramore, Reethe, and loyal to my father. You didn't like the treaty we have with the orcs, so you flaunted the rules by raiding an orc protected ogre village and stealing their supplies. I gave you one last chance, I sent you out to Lost Point to secure the area near Shady Rest. It was close enough to the garrison there to offer you help if you needed it. You and your men defected and you never came back. I want to know what happened."
Reethe twisted a moment, but found the ice utterly unyielding, and Thrall watched Jaina's expression. She never wavered in her attentiveness as Reethe spoke. "We... we were sick of you. Sick of licking the orcs' boots. We were talking about it, one night. It was raining. It's always raining in this stinking hole. We were going to do it, and take the tower. Some of the boys were still trying to get up the stones to do it when she came."
"'She'?" Jaina asked quietly, her eyes widening.
"The Lady. She came right into the tower. She wasn't afraid of us -- she wouldn't be afraid of you, either -- and said that if we defected and worked for her, she'd make sure we never had to put up with orcs or orc-lovers again. She said for us to take the tower and wait for more instructions. She would give us things we'd never dreamed of..." Reethe trailed off with an odd, dreamy smile that Thrall found disconcerting on an older human man who hadn't shaved in three days, and hadn't bathed in two.
"I'm sure you've dreamed of them at least once or twice by this point," Jaina murmured, and shared a brief smile with Thrall. "What instructions did you get?"
"We were supposed to help servants of hers. She said we'd know them because they had her mark."
"What does her mark look like?" Thrall asked quietly.
"Three lines, two white and one red between them," Reethe replied. "Like claw marks, almost."
"What did her servants do?" Jaina asked quietly.
"They were going to destroy your precious treaty," Reethe said. "They were going to start things up, so people would open their eyes and see how wrong it really was. All I had to do was make a little noise so they could start a fire."
"Two innocent people died because of you," Jaina said, her voice steady, but loud, angry. "Another is so traumatized that he may never be normal again, and there would have been countless casualties if another war had started over this."
"How many do you think died already because of this stupid treaty?" Reethe demanded. "How many more do you think will die when we can't defend ourselves against the green tide? Your father was proud of you once, how could you betray him like this, for the feeling of an orc--"
"Enough," Thrall growled, shifting. "We need a name."
"A name?" Reethe asked, laughing. "For what you do?"
"No, for the woman who contacted you," Jaina said, a hand touching against Thrall's arm lightly, stopping the advance that he didn't quite realize he'd begun. "I want to know the Lady's name."
"It's--" Reethe began, and then there was a sound like a soft crack that made Thrall spin and grab for Jaina, pulling her to the floor.
"Get down!" he bellowed. Through one of the windows flew two bullets, the first splintering the back of a chair, and the second went through Reethe's throat, spraying the ice that encased him with blood. The ex-soldier choked as he died, burbling incoherently.
"Get him! Get him!" Thrall heard the dwarf yell, and rolled to his feet, running towards the door. The dwarf was pointing, and Thrall saw something flit through the trees. He whistled sharply, and Snowsong went bounding after the shadow. A moment's concentration and the howl of a wolf brought spirit wolves to help.
"Follow the wolf," Thrall snapped to the guards. "Hurry." Thrall could sense Snowsong, and he could also sense the exact moment when his spirit wolves winked out of existence, and moved faster with a feeling of impending dread. He watched as the shadow faltered, and Snowsong leapt, pulling the shadow down. She snarled as she ripped something, and Thrall caught up to her.
There was a dizzying feeling as the spirits deserted him, leaving him feeling emptier, bereft of their companionship. At his feet was a twisted corpse that could have been dead for weeks. It was wrapped in a dark cloak, and even now struggled against Snowsong's jaws, and one twisted, emaciated hand reached towards his frostwolf, attempting to retrieve its other arm.
"Snowsong, hold," Thrall commanded, and knelt down. "Are you Ansolm?"
The reply that came out was garbled and strange, and Thrall found it incomprehensible. Sylvanas' messengers and representatives had always been able to speak Common, though with varying degrees of slurring. This was nothing like that, and Thrall noticed that Ansolm didn't have a lower jaw, and a twisted, blistered tongue flicked out as he tried to speak.
"Was this what you woke up with?" Thrall muttered. "Why did you shoot him? Who was he working for?" The Forsaken shifted, and with one hand, placed it over his heart. Thrall noticed a mark under his fingers, one with three claw marks, two white and one red. "Is this... you work for her too, and do those Grimtotem work for her as well--"
"Thrall, look out!" Jaina cried. He felt her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, and then a sick, disorienting feeling before righting himself.
"Jaina, what--" Thrall asked, meeting her frightened eyes, and there was the sound of something too wet to be an explosion, and Thrall turned. The Forsaken was little more than scattered pieces of meat and fragments of cloth. Snowsong still had the Forsaken's arm, and the largest remaining piece of Paval Reethe's assassin. "--thank you. That would have injured me a great deal if I'd been at point blank range. How did you know?"
"He made an arcane gesture," Jaina murmured. "Are you alright? What was that?"
"It's complicated, and something that would be better off discussed in private. Is there any hope for Reethe?"
"None," Jaina said softly. "I'm going to have his effects searched, but for now, this is no place to investigate."
"What about the other soldiers?" Thrall asked. "You froze them."
"They tried to stop me," Jaina said, straightening carefully. "They're going to be brought back to Theramore and interrogated before their trial. Unfortunately, I think Reethe knew the most, and now... he's dead."
"We have a great deal to discuss, none the least of which is why you didn't tell me that there were dragons in Dustwallow," Thrall chided, only to see Jaina's eyes widen.
"There are dragons in Dustwallow?" Jaina demanded. "Where? Do you know what they're up to?"
"You didn't know," Thrall said quietly, absorbing this. "We need to talk."
"Of course," Jaina said. She kept her eyes on his face, but there was hesitation in her voice. "Thrall?"
"Yes, Jaina?" Thrall asked, noting the faint flush of her cheeks that may have been from the effort of casting a blink spell repeatedly.
"What happened to your clothes?"
~ * ~
"Here you are, my Lady," Jaina's chamberlain said, setting down a tray. She smiled politely at Thrall. "Is your blanket comfortable, Warchief? It was the largest one we could find."
"It will be find, thank you," Thrall said, nodding back. Jaina leaned over, and gave the woman a brief kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you, Ariana. Make sure no one interrupts us." The young woman nodded, and Jaina went to the window, staring out it for a moment, over the ocean. It was raining, and the spirits told him that soon this would move over Jaina's island kingdom. "Where do I begin?"
"Why didn't you tell me that you were still having problems with defectors?" Thrall asked. He shifted, and picked up one of the mugs, holding it in his hands. "I had no idea..."
"What could you have done?" Jaina asked softly. "Some people will only follow you so far..." She shook her head. "I suppose it's only right. Blind loyalty is wrong, even though... I don't think what I'm asking of people is unreasonable. It's not Stratholme."
Stratholme. Arthas again. "We didn't know that it was humans raiding the ogre camps, though I didn't know about those raids at all until recently."
Jaina turned, and raised an eyebrow. "They didn't tell you?"
"Something about pride," Thrall said. "They have an ogre mage that is both intelligent and subtle, and it's interesting that he doesn't want to lead them himself. He seems to have all the answers."
"Not enough personal strength," Jaina commented. "Ogres can only take force of personality so far before they need to physically crack skulls, and his magic isn't as effective as, say, mine."
"You spoke to Draz'Zilb?" Thrall said, raising an eyebrow. Jaina nodded.
"I returned their supplies personally. I just cannot believe how utterly selfish someone like Reethe is... and now he's dead, and his answers with him." She sighed. "At least we have more of an idea what's going on."
"Defectors, dragons," Thrall said, "and the Grimtotem."
"The tauren tribe that refuses to formally join the Horde?" Jaina asked. "What about them?"
"From what I've been able to gather, they may be responsible for what happened," Thrall said, and sighed. Jaina stiffened, then moved to sit next to him. "I spoke to Draz'Zilb, and he mentioned that the ogres had been chased out of their home by black dragons. He also said that the Grimtotem had moved into the north of Dustwallow and did their best to evade ogre patrols, and wouldn't speak to them. I performed a spirit walk to find out what they were doing, and I overheard them speaking to the Forsaken that I believe killed Reethe. I have the Forsaken's name, but of course, no proof that it was him, since he destroyed himself rather than be caught. The Grimtotem that was talking spoke of Reethe as their 'other problem'. It's possible that whomever this woman was that spoke to Reethe intended to betray him all along, and that the Grimtotem and Forsaken are her more valued servants."
"Or that she'd betray any one of them to get what she wants," Jaina pointed out, looking upset. "I suppose I can understand the Grimtotem's lack of trust for us, but why kill innocent people? Just to destroy what we have created? It seems so..."
"Unfair," Thrall said softly. "Sometimes, things are just unfair. I wish they weren't, but we can do something about this. I'm going to contact my forces. I've already sent someone south to speak to the Grimtotem, but I can go directly to Thunder Bluff to speak to their matriarch. Cairne does his best to try and convince her to join the Horde, so she is a guest there."
"Do you think she's involved?" Jaina asked, tilting her chin up to look him in the eye, and he couldn't help but smile back more confidently.
"I don't know, but I hope not," Thrall said honestly. "It's hard to control a clan of rebels."
"Almost certainly." Jaina sighed softly. "I'll be getting a report from Doctor VanHowzen after he examines Lieutenant Reethe's body, and what remains of that Forsaken, and Reethe's soldiers are being held in lock up until we can interrogate them properly." She shook her head. "This is such a mess. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the raid, Thrall. I wanted to handle it myself. I thought this would be enough, and I was wrong."
"Don't..." Thrall began, reaching to take her hand unthinkingly, and only barely stopping in time. "Don't blame yourself. You didn't know about the dragons, and we all have our problems that aren't easily solved."
"Like the Shadow Council," Jaina murmured. "And the Burning Blade."
"Exactly like," Thrall replied, nodding, and hoping Jaina couldn't hear the thundering of his racing heart. Distantly, around the sound, he could hear her promise help with them when he needed it, and heard himself agree that he would ask. There was a feeling, an intense one, like what he'd felt when he'd held her. He couldn't quite identify it, and he wanted to consult the spirits before he did anything utterly foolish...
Like kiss the human woman that sat before him.
Oh... damn.
~ * ~
Damn and double damn, Thrall thought, pacing. Jaina had honoured his request to speak to his contact privately, and that gave him time to not be utterly controlled, to not flinch when she'd touch him casually. I can't do this. Not to her, not to the Horde. He felt his stomach twist at the idea of one more casual encounter with one of the candidates, and thought, absurdly, Garona would kill me. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it seemed as if there was a ringing in his ears that wouldn't quite stop since the reaction -- the realization that had come to him: he cared for Jaina Proudmoore. More than the promises of friendship he'd sworn at Winter Veil, more than just an ally... Possibilities swirled within his mind. No, I need to take care of one disaster at a time.
Thrall thumbed on the communication crystal, and waited. Garona always had a very strict policy about letting her speak first, mostly because if Thrall needed to use the crystal, she was almost certainly in a position where speaking to the crystal would mean being caught. He paced, letting himself work off emotions that were half fear and half dread, and after a few moments, felt the crystal warm in his hand.
"What is it?" Garona asked. "I'm at Darkcloud Pinnacle. You will not like what I have found."
"You won't like what I've found," Thrall countered. "You first."
"I found several Grimtotem missives that imply they have an alliance with an unnamed, powerful force, and that they were planning a summit to meet with their agents from Lordaeron. I did a little more digging, and all three of the individuals that signed the notes are Forsaken, though they're not placed anywhere in Sylvanas' guard."
"There's definitely a connection between the Forsaken and the Grimtotem," Thrall agreed, and quickly detailed what he'd learned. "Reethe is dead, but they're looking into his effects. The assassin is dead."
"You're an idiot for forgetting your armour," Garona snorted.
"That isn't the point," Thrall replied, standing on his dignity. "If I'd taken the time to put on my armour--"
"Jaina wouldn't have seen your half-naked body when you tackled her to the floor?" Garona finished, and Thrall recalled the odd look on Jaina's face when she'd seen him, and suddenly wondered if 'odd' was positive or negative. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'm going to try for a meeting with Magatha Grimtotem to resolve this," Thrall said. "I want you back by then."
"What, so you can watch her deny everything?" Garona asked derisively. "She's a snake, Warchief."
"Garona," Thrall said warningly.
"I'll be back, if nothing else to make sure you remember to wear pants for the meeting," Garona promised. "Who knows, Jaina could get a splinter and you might forget again."
"Garona," Thrall growled, and stopped when he heard a soft knock. "Yes?"
"I apologize for interrupting, Warchief Thrall," called Jaina's chamberlain, Ariana. "Someone is here to deliver some personal items."
Shandel'zare, Thrall groaned mentally. Maybe she won't berate me too much. "Garona, I need--"
"Your clothes back. Have fun, Warchief." Thrall thumbed off the crystal, and sighed. He went to the door to open it, and sure enough, Shandel'zare was there, holding his shirt, while another heavily cloaked figure held his armour.
"Warchief Thrall," the troll mage said, her expression only barely containing amusement and exasperation. "You forgot something."
"Thank you," Thrall said, ignoring her smile as he took his shirt, and turned to the cloaked figure. "And you..?"
"This is Scout Logroth, I was fortunate enough to run into him while I was cleaning up the camp you abandoned," his advisor told him dryly. "He helped me carry it."
"You're welcome," the cloaked figure growled out, all but pushing the armour into Thrall's hands and turned away. Thrall raised an eyebrow at Shandel'zare, who shrugged.
"Please, Warchief, make yourself comfortable," Ariana said politely. "I have something I need to take care of."
"Thank you," Thrall replied. The young human woman nodded to him and turned, and the scout followed, leaving Thrall, unfortunately, with Shandel'zare.
"Warchief," Shandel'zare began. "I suggest that the next time you decide to ride off half-cocked, you think about what would have happened if that sniper had taken a shot at you and not a very stupid, very greedy human."
Thrall refused to flinch at her tone. "I wasn't in danger, but Jaina could have been."
"You're right," Shandel'zare agreed, stopping him in mid defensive response. "The human who faced down the second most powerful demon in the Burning Legion could have been in danger, and she absolutely has no defensive spells or instincts of her own, nor did she have an armed force right outside to protect her. Surely, you're the only one who could help her."
When she puts it that way... Thrall thought. "I didn't think about any of that."
"No, Warchief, you didn't think," Shandel'zare agreed. "But I'm sure you are now. My understanding is that you'll need to go to Thunder Bluff soon. I'm going to arrange that. I'll return when I'm done."
"Thank you," Thrall said with a sigh, and she left. He sat down, turning his shirt over in his hands several times. She's right. That was reckless of me, but I... He closed his eyes, and he could hear it, the crack of the shot, and the sound of her fear, and then his, of that moment, that potential of losing Jaina to something so mundane as a sniper. I could have warned her. I should have, but the interrogation seemed more important. That was careless. He pulled on his shirt, and sat back. Slowly, he let everything spill out of him. Deep breaths in and out flushed away uncertainty, leaving only clarity behind.
I need to say something to her, he thought. Not immediately, it's inappropriate when this is still so fresh and painful. I promised her that all I wanted was friendship. I still want her friendship, but that's not all that I want. I want to know how she feels about me. If she feels the way I do. He frowned slightly. However it is that I feel. Again, he could hear the shot firing, and that moment of pure, blind panic over losing Jaina. I care for her, as a friend, and more. He felt his mind shift gears slowly. Could I even...
He felt the spirits of air move around him, bringing in snatches of conversation. Some of it was about fishing, others about trouble near the lighthouse and someone spotting a sea monster, something about no one being able to see Doctor VanHowzen, which seemed odd.
I hope there's nothing wrong, Thrall thought, and listened to more:
"Is it as bad as they're saying?" Ariana asked, her voice soft even through the wind.
"Worse," Logroth said tersely. "Everything is a mess, and everyone's plenty paranoid and angry enough about what's going on. Some don't like being automatically thought of as the culprits of this. There's even been some talk about a preemptive strike."
"That's ridiculous, we won't attack them."
"Stupid people don't make sense, they just do things. I want you to be careful. Don't let anyone catch you wearing this."
"I keep your wedding token hidden," Ariana replied, startling Thrall. "Lady Jaina will protect me, she understands that love comes in all kinds of forms."
"That reminds me, the rumours--"
The sound of the teleportation spell, amplified by the spirits of air, nearly knocked Thrall to his knees.
"Thrall!" Jaina said urgently. "You need to come right away, something's happened."
Thrall shook his head to clear it. "What's wrong?"
"Doctor VanHowzen was attacked... and Reethe's body was stolen!"
Chapter 6
Title: Unity
Part: 5 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4894 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst. Violence and death, more angst.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: Thrall makes several chilling discoveries, and Jaina gets shit done.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4
The Forsaken.
The Forsaken deserved sympathy. Once citizens of Lordaeron and Quel'thalas, they had been murdered by Arthas Menethil and brought back as the Scourge, only to break free when the Lich King's grip on the Scourge weakened. In looking for a new purpose, they had found it in revenge, and reclaimed the ruins of Lordaeron from the Scourge, led by the Dark Lady, the fallen Ranger-General of Silvermoon, Sylvanas Windrunner. The Forsaken could not go home, assuming they had one to go home to, and in so many cases, their homes were destroyed by the Scourge, or their own murderous rampages while they had been controlled by the Lich King.
It's not so different from our time being the thralls of demons, the Warchief of the Horde reasoned, carefully moving back to his body. Clutched in one hand were battle plans -- the spirits had not guided him to them, but he'd found them by watching the tauren move around, and used personal reserves of power to bring it into the spirit world with him. This would not last long, and he hoped he could move fast enough not to be caught. Except...
The Forsaken were cold. Where the orcs had been fierce, angry, hot-blooded at their betrayal, the Forsaken had an anger that was icy, bitter like the winds of Northrend. They were not vocal about their anger usually, but instead were quiet. They plotted and waited, and none so much as their Banshee Queen. Thrall had not met the former elf before she had died, so there was little room for comparison, but she was very frigid. She was often quiet, but when she spoke, her words held a great weight, and she was both beautiful and terrible to behold. Her people doted on her endlessly at a level that had discomforted Thrall. Sylvanas had sent him messages over the course of Winter, and the spirits had been vocally displeased at the presence of the heavily cowled and wrapped messengers.
Thrall had considered carefully the implications of Sylvanas' carefully penned letters: the Forsaken hated the Scourge, and feared the living. The surviving paladins of the Silver Hand had reformed under a new banner, that of the Scarlet Crusade, and they were bent on wiping them out, regardless of the fact that the Forsaken were no longer Scourge, and worse yet, even attacked the living if they were suspected to be infected by the Plague, and sometimes, the suspicion of infection went along with disagreement with Scarlet Crusade leadership. That had been worrying enough, because Thrall knew what it was like to deal with those who would always believe you were monsters, but Sylvanas had delivered news about Arthas and the Lich King, and her suspicions therein, which Thrall has naturally shared with his allies, including Jaina Proudmoore.
Bad enough to hear about Arthas' fall from grace after her departure to Kalimdor, but this... Thrall shook his head. And of course, having to explain where I got the information from. That had been during the Late Winter, and now, the Forsaken and the Horde had a tentative treaty of shared information, and mutual protection. The problem lay with actually having the Forsaken anywhere near Kalimdor.
The spirits were always more active in areas that were wilder. The spirits disliked being tame, and they were sparse amongst the carefully plowed and groomed fields of Hillsbrad or Tirisfal, but not so in Kalimdor: Kalimdor was wild, a haven for unruly elementals and helpful spirits, but with the spirits, came caution and restraint. Whereas a greedy and unwise leader might encourage expansion across the continent and clear out trees, this would drive the spirits away, and here, where their presence was stronger, it might even incur their wrath, something Thrall never wanted to do. So instead, their expansion was cautious, but the spirits were driven away by other things, like the undead.
Thrall did not understand precisely how one created the undead, and even Sylvanas' information was incomplete and riddled with guesswork. What did seem to happen is that it created a void within the spirit world, something about the state of the soul of the victim of the plague of Undeath, and it sent spirits fleeing. A Forsaken that spent too much time in one place outside of the Plaguelands caused the spirit world to bend and warp slightly. More, and this effect amplified. A population like the one in Undercity, the name of Lordaeron's underbelly that housed the Forsaken, would create a blight that would destroy a huge area in Kalimdor.
Thrall had done his best to explain this to Sylvanas, who had watched him with a shuttered expression and cold, dead eyes, and her lips had quirked in an upwards twitch, and simply said that she wouldn't want to upset the spirits or her new-found allies. This had been enough to keep most of the Forsaken away from Kalimdor, though an odd one cropped up now and then. The communication crystals that linked one part of Thrall's nation to another also let him get regular updates from Sylvanas. Their alliance was a very tentative, uncertain one, and now Thrall was regretting even agreeing to it.
If the Forsaken are involved in this travesty, then something needs to be done about it. Innocent lives were lost, but I don't see why this would interest them, it doesn't further any of their goals, and it's not something I would ever have condoned. It was murder, plain and simple. Making his way back to his body, he settled into it with the sensation of trying to fit something large into something small. He could feel his spiritual sense wiggle into place before he opened his eyes. The chill of the air hit him first, and he inhaled sharply.
"You're back, good," Shandel'zare said sharply. She was sitting in front of him, and appeared to have been watching him intently. "I've received word from Jaina Proudmoore that she has located Paval Reethe."
"Where is she?" Thrall demanded. Quickly, he grabbed his boots, and shoved his feet into them, fastening them quickly. He stood and handed her the battle plans. "We need to analyze these and see what they yield. Take care of it. I need to find Jaina."
"She's tracked them down to the northern watchtower, it's south of here," Shandel'zare replied, and frowned at him, taking the plans. "You found these?"
"I found a number of interesting things," Thrall replied tersely, and whistled sharply to Snowsong. "I'll deal with that later. This is important." He saddled his frostwolf immediately, and swung into her saddle. "You'll find me there."
"Warchief, I--" Shandel'zare began, but he was already riding off. Distantly, he heard her say, "But what about your clothes?"
~ * ~
The tower was easy enough to find: it was the one surrounded by human and elven guards. A lone dwarf stood at the entrance, standing at attention, both hands on his blunderbuss and his eye to the swamp. He gave Thrall a very unimpressed look as he rode up. The orc Warchief dismounted from Snowsong, and whispered to her, "Rest for a time, you've earned it, the spirits will protect me."
Snowsong gave him a canine sneeze, and loped a distance away, which only served to make the soldiers more nervous.
"What can I do fer yeh, Warchief?" the dwarf asked, and his dour expression could have been caused by a dozen things.
"I need to see Jaina," Thrall said without preamble. "Excuse me."
"She's a tad busy with Reethe," the dwarf replied evenly. "Ye'll have ter wait."
"This concerns him, there are things she doesn't know," Thrall insisted. "This is a waste of time. Please."
"Since ye asked so pretty," the dwarf muttered, and jerked his head towards the door. Thrall stepped into the tower. Guard towers were not meant to be large, or comfortable, and this was no different, but Thrall noticed that this one was extremely cold.
What could be-- Thrall thought, letting his eyes adjust to the dark. There was something glimmering in the semi-dark, and as his eyes adjusted, he could see what it was. There was a thin layer of frost covering everything, including the lamps that would have illuminated the inside of the tower. Within the room there were a half-dozen very large ice blocks which contained, as Thrall noticed with a start, human beings. A seventh, less complete ice block was in the middle of the room, with the man's head and neck exposed, and the rest of his body was totally encased in ice.
"You're going to tell me what's going on," he heard Jaina say, her voice as icy as the room. He watched her eyes glitter dangerously in the dim light, and he felt something constrict, rather sharply, in his chest.
"Not in your life, you traitorous bi--" An icicle slid closer to the underside of his chin, and the trapped human swallowed heavily.
"People are dead, Lieutenant Reethe," Jaina replied. "I'm not here to play games with you. I want to know what happened after you were sent to Lost Point Tower."
"I defected," Paval Reethe said, speaking carefully around the icicle. "That's all."
"He's lying," Thrall said quietly, and Jaina turned, though her concentration never wavered.
"I didn't think he was telling the truth..." Jaina replied, and he noticed the way her eyebrows raised, and her expression changed. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Thrall said, and moved to stand beside her. "I suggest you answer Jaina's questions."
"Filthy orc," Reethe spat, and the ice shifted and swirled, causing him to cry out.
"Jaina isn't the only one who knows how to break the ice," Thrall warned. "Excuse me for interrupting, Jaina."
"Not at all," Jaina murmured, and returned her gaze to Reethe, and she lost much of her good humour. "You were part of the agitators in Theramore, Reethe, and loyal to my father. You didn't like the treaty we have with the orcs, so you flaunted the rules by raiding an orc protected ogre village and stealing their supplies. I gave you one last chance, I sent you out to Lost Point to secure the area near Shady Rest. It was close enough to the garrison there to offer you help if you needed it. You and your men defected and you never came back. I want to know what happened."
Reethe twisted a moment, but found the ice utterly unyielding, and Thrall watched Jaina's expression. She never wavered in her attentiveness as Reethe spoke. "We... we were sick of you. Sick of licking the orcs' boots. We were talking about it, one night. It was raining. It's always raining in this stinking hole. We were going to do it, and take the tower. Some of the boys were still trying to get up the stones to do it when she came."
"'She'?" Jaina asked quietly, her eyes widening.
"The Lady. She came right into the tower. She wasn't afraid of us -- she wouldn't be afraid of you, either -- and said that if we defected and worked for her, she'd make sure we never had to put up with orcs or orc-lovers again. She said for us to take the tower and wait for more instructions. She would give us things we'd never dreamed of..." Reethe trailed off with an odd, dreamy smile that Thrall found disconcerting on an older human man who hadn't shaved in three days, and hadn't bathed in two.
"I'm sure you've dreamed of them at least once or twice by this point," Jaina murmured, and shared a brief smile with Thrall. "What instructions did you get?"
"We were supposed to help servants of hers. She said we'd know them because they had her mark."
"What does her mark look like?" Thrall asked quietly.
"Three lines, two white and one red between them," Reethe replied. "Like claw marks, almost."
"What did her servants do?" Jaina asked quietly.
"They were going to destroy your precious treaty," Reethe said. "They were going to start things up, so people would open their eyes and see how wrong it really was. All I had to do was make a little noise so they could start a fire."
"Two innocent people died because of you," Jaina said, her voice steady, but loud, angry. "Another is so traumatized that he may never be normal again, and there would have been countless casualties if another war had started over this."
"How many do you think died already because of this stupid treaty?" Reethe demanded. "How many more do you think will die when we can't defend ourselves against the green tide? Your father was proud of you once, how could you betray him like this, for the feeling of an orc--"
"Enough," Thrall growled, shifting. "We need a name."
"A name?" Reethe asked, laughing. "For what you do?"
"No, for the woman who contacted you," Jaina said, a hand touching against Thrall's arm lightly, stopping the advance that he didn't quite realize he'd begun. "I want to know the Lady's name."
"It's--" Reethe began, and then there was a sound like a soft crack that made Thrall spin and grab for Jaina, pulling her to the floor.
"Get down!" he bellowed. Through one of the windows flew two bullets, the first splintering the back of a chair, and the second went through Reethe's throat, spraying the ice that encased him with blood. The ex-soldier choked as he died, burbling incoherently.
"Get him! Get him!" Thrall heard the dwarf yell, and rolled to his feet, running towards the door. The dwarf was pointing, and Thrall saw something flit through the trees. He whistled sharply, and Snowsong went bounding after the shadow. A moment's concentration and the howl of a wolf brought spirit wolves to help.
"Follow the wolf," Thrall snapped to the guards. "Hurry." Thrall could sense Snowsong, and he could also sense the exact moment when his spirit wolves winked out of existence, and moved faster with a feeling of impending dread. He watched as the shadow faltered, and Snowsong leapt, pulling the shadow down. She snarled as she ripped something, and Thrall caught up to her.
There was a dizzying feeling as the spirits deserted him, leaving him feeling emptier, bereft of their companionship. At his feet was a twisted corpse that could have been dead for weeks. It was wrapped in a dark cloak, and even now struggled against Snowsong's jaws, and one twisted, emaciated hand reached towards his frostwolf, attempting to retrieve its other arm.
"Snowsong, hold," Thrall commanded, and knelt down. "Are you Ansolm?"
The reply that came out was garbled and strange, and Thrall found it incomprehensible. Sylvanas' messengers and representatives had always been able to speak Common, though with varying degrees of slurring. This was nothing like that, and Thrall noticed that Ansolm didn't have a lower jaw, and a twisted, blistered tongue flicked out as he tried to speak.
"Was this what you woke up with?" Thrall muttered. "Why did you shoot him? Who was he working for?" The Forsaken shifted, and with one hand, placed it over his heart. Thrall noticed a mark under his fingers, one with three claw marks, two white and one red. "Is this... you work for her too, and do those Grimtotem work for her as well--"
"Thrall, look out!" Jaina cried. He felt her arms around him, squeezing him tightly, and then a sick, disorienting feeling before righting himself.
"Jaina, what--" Thrall asked, meeting her frightened eyes, and there was the sound of something too wet to be an explosion, and Thrall turned. The Forsaken was little more than scattered pieces of meat and fragments of cloth. Snowsong still had the Forsaken's arm, and the largest remaining piece of Paval Reethe's assassin. "--thank you. That would have injured me a great deal if I'd been at point blank range. How did you know?"
"He made an arcane gesture," Jaina murmured. "Are you alright? What was that?"
"It's complicated, and something that would be better off discussed in private. Is there any hope for Reethe?"
"None," Jaina said softly. "I'm going to have his effects searched, but for now, this is no place to investigate."
"What about the other soldiers?" Thrall asked. "You froze them."
"They tried to stop me," Jaina said, straightening carefully. "They're going to be brought back to Theramore and interrogated before their trial. Unfortunately, I think Reethe knew the most, and now... he's dead."
"We have a great deal to discuss, none the least of which is why you didn't tell me that there were dragons in Dustwallow," Thrall chided, only to see Jaina's eyes widen.
"There are dragons in Dustwallow?" Jaina demanded. "Where? Do you know what they're up to?"
"You didn't know," Thrall said quietly, absorbing this. "We need to talk."
"Of course," Jaina said. She kept her eyes on his face, but there was hesitation in her voice. "Thrall?"
"Yes, Jaina?" Thrall asked, noting the faint flush of her cheeks that may have been from the effort of casting a blink spell repeatedly.
"What happened to your clothes?"
~ * ~
"Here you are, my Lady," Jaina's chamberlain said, setting down a tray. She smiled politely at Thrall. "Is your blanket comfortable, Warchief? It was the largest one we could find."
"It will be find, thank you," Thrall said, nodding back. Jaina leaned over, and gave the woman a brief kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you, Ariana. Make sure no one interrupts us." The young woman nodded, and Jaina went to the window, staring out it for a moment, over the ocean. It was raining, and the spirits told him that soon this would move over Jaina's island kingdom. "Where do I begin?"
"Why didn't you tell me that you were still having problems with defectors?" Thrall asked. He shifted, and picked up one of the mugs, holding it in his hands. "I had no idea..."
"What could you have done?" Jaina asked softly. "Some people will only follow you so far..." She shook her head. "I suppose it's only right. Blind loyalty is wrong, even though... I don't think what I'm asking of people is unreasonable. It's not Stratholme."
Stratholme. Arthas again. "We didn't know that it was humans raiding the ogre camps, though I didn't know about those raids at all until recently."
Jaina turned, and raised an eyebrow. "They didn't tell you?"
"Something about pride," Thrall said. "They have an ogre mage that is both intelligent and subtle, and it's interesting that he doesn't want to lead them himself. He seems to have all the answers."
"Not enough personal strength," Jaina commented. "Ogres can only take force of personality so far before they need to physically crack skulls, and his magic isn't as effective as, say, mine."
"You spoke to Draz'Zilb?" Thrall said, raising an eyebrow. Jaina nodded.
"I returned their supplies personally. I just cannot believe how utterly selfish someone like Reethe is... and now he's dead, and his answers with him." She sighed. "At least we have more of an idea what's going on."
"Defectors, dragons," Thrall said, "and the Grimtotem."
"The tauren tribe that refuses to formally join the Horde?" Jaina asked. "What about them?"
"From what I've been able to gather, they may be responsible for what happened," Thrall said, and sighed. Jaina stiffened, then moved to sit next to him. "I spoke to Draz'Zilb, and he mentioned that the ogres had been chased out of their home by black dragons. He also said that the Grimtotem had moved into the north of Dustwallow and did their best to evade ogre patrols, and wouldn't speak to them. I performed a spirit walk to find out what they were doing, and I overheard them speaking to the Forsaken that I believe killed Reethe. I have the Forsaken's name, but of course, no proof that it was him, since he destroyed himself rather than be caught. The Grimtotem that was talking spoke of Reethe as their 'other problem'. It's possible that whomever this woman was that spoke to Reethe intended to betray him all along, and that the Grimtotem and Forsaken are her more valued servants."
"Or that she'd betray any one of them to get what she wants," Jaina pointed out, looking upset. "I suppose I can understand the Grimtotem's lack of trust for us, but why kill innocent people? Just to destroy what we have created? It seems so..."
"Unfair," Thrall said softly. "Sometimes, things are just unfair. I wish they weren't, but we can do something about this. I'm going to contact my forces. I've already sent someone south to speak to the Grimtotem, but I can go directly to Thunder Bluff to speak to their matriarch. Cairne does his best to try and convince her to join the Horde, so she is a guest there."
"Do you think she's involved?" Jaina asked, tilting her chin up to look him in the eye, and he couldn't help but smile back more confidently.
"I don't know, but I hope not," Thrall said honestly. "It's hard to control a clan of rebels."
"Almost certainly." Jaina sighed softly. "I'll be getting a report from Doctor VanHowzen after he examines Lieutenant Reethe's body, and what remains of that Forsaken, and Reethe's soldiers are being held in lock up until we can interrogate them properly." She shook her head. "This is such a mess. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the raid, Thrall. I wanted to handle it myself. I thought this would be enough, and I was wrong."
"Don't..." Thrall began, reaching to take her hand unthinkingly, and only barely stopping in time. "Don't blame yourself. You didn't know about the dragons, and we all have our problems that aren't easily solved."
"Like the Shadow Council," Jaina murmured. "And the Burning Blade."
"Exactly like," Thrall replied, nodding, and hoping Jaina couldn't hear the thundering of his racing heart. Distantly, around the sound, he could hear her promise help with them when he needed it, and heard himself agree that he would ask. There was a feeling, an intense one, like what he'd felt when he'd held her. He couldn't quite identify it, and he wanted to consult the spirits before he did anything utterly foolish...
Like kiss the human woman that sat before him.
Oh... damn.
~ * ~
Damn and double damn, Thrall thought, pacing. Jaina had honoured his request to speak to his contact privately, and that gave him time to not be utterly controlled, to not flinch when she'd touch him casually. I can't do this. Not to her, not to the Horde. He felt his stomach twist at the idea of one more casual encounter with one of the candidates, and thought, absurdly, Garona would kill me. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it seemed as if there was a ringing in his ears that wouldn't quite stop since the reaction -- the realization that had come to him: he cared for Jaina Proudmoore. More than the promises of friendship he'd sworn at Winter Veil, more than just an ally... Possibilities swirled within his mind. No, I need to take care of one disaster at a time.
Thrall thumbed on the communication crystal, and waited. Garona always had a very strict policy about letting her speak first, mostly because if Thrall needed to use the crystal, she was almost certainly in a position where speaking to the crystal would mean being caught. He paced, letting himself work off emotions that were half fear and half dread, and after a few moments, felt the crystal warm in his hand.
"What is it?" Garona asked. "I'm at Darkcloud Pinnacle. You will not like what I have found."
"You won't like what I've found," Thrall countered. "You first."
"I found several Grimtotem missives that imply they have an alliance with an unnamed, powerful force, and that they were planning a summit to meet with their agents from Lordaeron. I did a little more digging, and all three of the individuals that signed the notes are Forsaken, though they're not placed anywhere in Sylvanas' guard."
"There's definitely a connection between the Forsaken and the Grimtotem," Thrall agreed, and quickly detailed what he'd learned. "Reethe is dead, but they're looking into his effects. The assassin is dead."
"You're an idiot for forgetting your armour," Garona snorted.
"That isn't the point," Thrall replied, standing on his dignity. "If I'd taken the time to put on my armour--"
"Jaina wouldn't have seen your half-naked body when you tackled her to the floor?" Garona finished, and Thrall recalled the odd look on Jaina's face when she'd seen him, and suddenly wondered if 'odd' was positive or negative. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'm going to try for a meeting with Magatha Grimtotem to resolve this," Thrall said. "I want you back by then."
"What, so you can watch her deny everything?" Garona asked derisively. "She's a snake, Warchief."
"Garona," Thrall said warningly.
"I'll be back, if nothing else to make sure you remember to wear pants for the meeting," Garona promised. "Who knows, Jaina could get a splinter and you might forget again."
"Garona," Thrall growled, and stopped when he heard a soft knock. "Yes?"
"I apologize for interrupting, Warchief Thrall," called Jaina's chamberlain, Ariana. "Someone is here to deliver some personal items."
Shandel'zare, Thrall groaned mentally. Maybe she won't berate me too much. "Garona, I need--"
"Your clothes back. Have fun, Warchief." Thrall thumbed off the crystal, and sighed. He went to the door to open it, and sure enough, Shandel'zare was there, holding his shirt, while another heavily cloaked figure held his armour.
"Warchief Thrall," the troll mage said, her expression only barely containing amusement and exasperation. "You forgot something."
"Thank you," Thrall said, ignoring her smile as he took his shirt, and turned to the cloaked figure. "And you..?"
"This is Scout Logroth, I was fortunate enough to run into him while I was cleaning up the camp you abandoned," his advisor told him dryly. "He helped me carry it."
"You're welcome," the cloaked figure growled out, all but pushing the armour into Thrall's hands and turned away. Thrall raised an eyebrow at Shandel'zare, who shrugged.
"Please, Warchief, make yourself comfortable," Ariana said politely. "I have something I need to take care of."
"Thank you," Thrall replied. The young human woman nodded to him and turned, and the scout followed, leaving Thrall, unfortunately, with Shandel'zare.
"Warchief," Shandel'zare began. "I suggest that the next time you decide to ride off half-cocked, you think about what would have happened if that sniper had taken a shot at you and not a very stupid, very greedy human."
Thrall refused to flinch at her tone. "I wasn't in danger, but Jaina could have been."
"You're right," Shandel'zare agreed, stopping him in mid defensive response. "The human who faced down the second most powerful demon in the Burning Legion could have been in danger, and she absolutely has no defensive spells or instincts of her own, nor did she have an armed force right outside to protect her. Surely, you're the only one who could help her."
When she puts it that way... Thrall thought. "I didn't think about any of that."
"No, Warchief, you didn't think," Shandel'zare agreed. "But I'm sure you are now. My understanding is that you'll need to go to Thunder Bluff soon. I'm going to arrange that. I'll return when I'm done."
"Thank you," Thrall said with a sigh, and she left. He sat down, turning his shirt over in his hands several times. She's right. That was reckless of me, but I... He closed his eyes, and he could hear it, the crack of the shot, and the sound of her fear, and then his, of that moment, that potential of losing Jaina to something so mundane as a sniper. I could have warned her. I should have, but the interrogation seemed more important. That was careless. He pulled on his shirt, and sat back. Slowly, he let everything spill out of him. Deep breaths in and out flushed away uncertainty, leaving only clarity behind.
I need to say something to her, he thought. Not immediately, it's inappropriate when this is still so fresh and painful. I promised her that all I wanted was friendship. I still want her friendship, but that's not all that I want. I want to know how she feels about me. If she feels the way I do. He frowned slightly. However it is that I feel. Again, he could hear the shot firing, and that moment of pure, blind panic over losing Jaina. I care for her, as a friend, and more. He felt his mind shift gears slowly. Could I even...
He felt the spirits of air move around him, bringing in snatches of conversation. Some of it was about fishing, others about trouble near the lighthouse and someone spotting a sea monster, something about no one being able to see Doctor VanHowzen, which seemed odd.
I hope there's nothing wrong, Thrall thought, and listened to more:
"Is it as bad as they're saying?" Ariana asked, her voice soft even through the wind.
"Worse," Logroth said tersely. "Everything is a mess, and everyone's plenty paranoid and angry enough about what's going on. Some don't like being automatically thought of as the culprits of this. There's even been some talk about a preemptive strike."
"That's ridiculous, we won't attack them."
"Stupid people don't make sense, they just do things. I want you to be careful. Don't let anyone catch you wearing this."
"I keep your wedding token hidden," Ariana replied, startling Thrall. "Lady Jaina will protect me, she understands that love comes in all kinds of forms."
"That reminds me, the rumours--"
The sound of the teleportation spell, amplified by the spirits of air, nearly knocked Thrall to his knees.
"Thrall!" Jaina said urgently. "You need to come right away, something's happened."
Thrall shook his head to clear it. "What's wrong?"
"Doctor VanHowzen was attacked... and Reethe's body was stolen!"
Chapter 6