Unity - Chapter 8
The latest submission, and the last one before 2010 starts! Happy New Year, I hope you enjoy!
Title: Unity
Part: 8 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4495 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst. More romance and drama in this one, far less violence.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: It's summer in Durotar, which brings heat and more celebrations.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
The heat was sweltering, coming off of the ground in waves beneath him but Thrall remained still, his eyes closed. Around him, he could hear the shamans chanting. Midsummer was a time to honour the spirits of Fire, and Thrall was not so forgetful, despite what the last few months had been like.
The trials of the deserters from Theramore had been swift and decisive. Jaina had overseen their executions personally, and requested that Thrall remain in Orgrimmar, though they had discussed it at length later. James Hyal had still been unwell, but Jaina had taken a risk and sent agents to the Eastern Kingdoms to find his brother, Vincent, and urged him to come to Kalimdor. Vincent Hyal had been willing to run the new Shady Rest Inn that had been erected in a slightly different location. Jaina had ordered the site of the original Shady Rest Inn to be consecrated and made into a memorial for those who'd been lost. Jaina had personally warded the new Inn against fire and sabotage, and promised that no more lives would be lost in the name of peace.
The ogres of Brackenwall had anticipated an attack that had never occurred, and shortly afterwards, Mok'Morokk had openly fled a challenge by another ogre. From what Thrall understood, Draz'Zilb was quite pleased with Overlord Ogron. The Grimtotem were still seen occasionally in Dustwallow, but there was nothing more of Awn-yee or the Defias. Despite this, the past few months had been exceptionally busy, and Thrall had only had time to see Jaina a scant handful of times before duty demanded their attention.
Memories of that time made Thrall smile, though, and he had to be careful not to let his attention waver from the task at hand. He and Jaina had spoken more openly about personal matters, and those conversations had been in every way just as awkward as their first meetings after Daelin Proudmoore's death. Still, he looked forward to seeing Jaina after the fire dedication ceremony, as she had promised that she had time to visit Orgrimmar.
First, though, fire. Thrall felt a rivulet of sweat run down the middle of his back catching in the hairs. He ignored it, and instead reached towards the fire. The elementals within it produced no heat, and settled against his hands.
"Spirits of Fire, we honour you, on this the longest day of the year. We thank you for the warmth you bring us in cold times, the weapons we need in difficult times, and the power we need in weak times. Bless us with your power, guide us with your strength. We have fire in our blood."
"The blood is our power, and there is fire in our blood," the other shamans echoed back, one by one. Thrall felt the flames lick against his fingers.
We are glad to bless you, and may you keep the fire in your hearts strong, the fire spirits replied, and abruptly, the fire went out, then reignited, and Thrall had to pull his hands back. He opened his eyes, and smiled at his fellow shamans. It was good to see them, Zor and Seereth, and many of the others. Sergra had declined, but promised to honour Fire in her own way.
There's too much to be done out here, she'd said when he protested. There will be so many other shamans that you won't miss me.
I will always miss you, Thrall said sincerely. There is no greater hunter in Orgrimmar.
Flattery is a human quality, she'd growled, but sounded pleased despite that. I will visit again soon, Warchief, for dinner.
For dinner only, Thrall thought, but smiled. Jaina's company, as scarce as it was, was making the more pointed glares from some of his advisors -- namely, Naz'grel -- more tolerable. Garona had been oddly quiet.
One of the shamans offered him his arm, and he took it, standing. He groaned softly and stretched as the other shamans all stood, discussing the next part of the Midsummer festival, which involved fireworks, and mating.
It will be good to have Jaina here, Thrall reflected. We can spend time together while everyone else is busy--
"Warchief Thrall." Thrall looked over and frowned thinly. The speaker was wearing a loose cloth robe of red and black cloth, and his hair and beard were touched with red. There was a wild and intense look in his eyes.
"Neeru," Thrall said evenly. "Are you here to celebrate Midsummer with us?"
The other orc's expression twitched, and Thrall was not surprised. Neeru was a warlock, though not a servant of the Burning Legion... or so he claimed. Thrall was neither foolish nor stupid, and even without Garona's reports on Neeru's extracurricular activities, he would know that Neeru was the leader of the Burning Blade and a pawn of the Shadow Council. The Burning Blade were originally a loose, anarchist group of orcs that recognized no leader, and instead simply killed what got in their way. Somehow, their clan, if not their members, had survived the years between the closing of the Dark Portal and the trip to Kalimdor, and they caused trouble whenever they could, unconcerned about harming fellow orcs as well as humans.
"Not quite," Neeru admitted. "Though I can certainly appreciate fire... there is a matter I wish to discuss with you."
"I have time," Thrall said simply. "Walk with me."
Neeru nodded once, and they began to walk. Despite the heat, there were huge bonfires everywhere, and brightly coloured ribbons that had arrived from Ratchet adorned makeshift poles. Thrall caught one of the ribbons briefly between his fingers, letting them wrap around his wrist.
"Would you like one, Warchief?" asked one of the teenagers setting up blue and orange ribbon clusters. "We've got extra."
"Certainly," Thrall said gravely, and they gave him one, smiling and giggling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neeru frown briefly. He secured the cluster in his pocket, and continued to walk. There was an odd kind of chill as they passed closer to the Drag.
"It's very festive, Warchief," Neeru commented. "Is it safe to..?"
"Naturally. The spirits will warn me of any unfriendly presence," Thrall said shortly. "Speak."
"As you know, I've been performing research about the Burning Legion on your behalf, and I've discovered something of the utmost importance," Neeru began. "I have learned that the Searing Blade have summoned a powerful demon that could potentially cause a great deal of trouble." Thrall frowned at the mention of another, smaller group of Legion worshippers. "At some expense, I have found out that this demon is known as Taragaman the Hungerer. I believe they hold him there, ready to unleash him at any time from Ragefire Chasm."
"I'll have my agents look into it, thank you," Thrall said, a thin frown on his face. Neeru saluted, and Thrall walked past him, and out of earshot. "He's not lying entirely."
"Not entirely," Garona agreed, stepping out of the shadows. "My agents report that Taragaman's failed to be useful, and the Shadow Council's intention is to sacrifice him to appease you."
"Any word on Fel'dan's location?" Thrall asked, his lips curled into a snarl.
"None so far," Garona replied evenly. "Azeroth is only so big, we'll find him soon enough. Give it time."
Thrall closed one hand into a fist. "They shouldn't have come to Kalimdor in the first place. They were hiding within the Horde."
"There's a reason I told you the spirits couldn't be everywhere," Garona murmured. "You can't solve everything by yourself, Thrall."
"Can't I try?" Thrall asked, relaxing slowly.
"You can try, but then someone else has to remind you that you're not a god when you fail," Garona replied tartly. "Your escort will arrive shortly."
"I thought you were too comfortably dressed for a walk," Thrall observed dryly, gesturing to her matte black clothing and the cowl that covered most of her features. "Where are you going?"
"The happiest place on Azeroth," Garona answered.
"Undercity?"
"Alright, the second happiest."
"Hyjal."
"Remind me why I waste so much time talking to you?" Garona grumbled.
"You'd be lonely without me," Thrall reminded her. "Felwood?"
"There you go," Garona replied. "I'm investigating rumours about some kind of cult there. Since the place is actively demon corrupted, I thought that the Shadow Council might be sticking their noses in there."
"Watch out for the Night Elves, I believe there are active Sentinel patrols in that area," Thrall warned her. "The Kaldorei are only sometimes friendly."
"Might have something to do with the Warsong lumber mill in Ashenvale," Garona murmured and Thrall winced. "They're here, and now I am not."
"Warchief Thrall." Varok Saurfang and Eitrigg of the Blackrock Clan were standing with a large patrol of Kor'Kron, and Thrall greeted his advisors politely. "We're ready to escort you to the ribbon pole dedication."
"Thank you," Thrall said, and fell into step. He smiled at the way the ribbons fluttered from every window that could support them. This holiday was understood by the Horde. Celebrating the elements, particularly fire, appealed to them, and not only that, fire suited the orcs. Orcs are passionate. Fire burns within us. That fire can strengthen us or make us blind.
Orcs and trolls waved from their windows. The trolls seemed to be enjoying the heat and taking this opportunity to don as little clothing as possible. Most of them seemed to wear only simple bands around their chests if they bothered with upper body clothing at all, and loincloths that hung low on their hips. Some of the more adventurous orcs had taken up the same style of dress, and it made for a somewhat distracting walk, but a pleasant one.
The ribbon pole had been erected in the same location as the tree had been placed for Winter Veil, and his people had wasted no time starting to dance. The drummers, also half-naked, were creating a steady, addictive rhythm. It was like the heart of the earth itself was beating, and Thrall could easily believe in the Earthmother, laying below them, listening as those that walked the surface worked.
"Who are we waiting for, Warchief?" Eitrigg asked quietly, and Thrall smiled.
"You'll know when you see her."
Saurfang frowned thinly. A scout came up and whispered in his ear, and his frown deepened. Thrall, on the other hand, watched with anticipation. From Orgrimmar's gates came a small procession. There were two, tall Night Elves astride nightsabers, and their mounts growled softly at the worgs that were stabled by the entrance. There were soft, mechanical sounds of a device that resembled a plainstrider, but was actually a machine, and the gnome that sat on it looked around curiously through his goggles. A ram bleated as it passed by the worgs, and its dwarven rider soothed it, but Thrall's eyes fell to the human woman that was not on foot, but floating on an invisible wind.
It doesn't surprise me you couldn't get a horse to carry you, Thrall thought fondly, remembering the tales of woe that were her equestrian experiences. The human woman met his gaze, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. Like many of Orgrimmar's citizens, she was wearing a minimum of clothing, and the thin, white cloth clung to her curves in the heat.
"Arriving from Theramore Isle, and Ashenvale, Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Explorer Dwaena Ironboot, Tinker Melvin Fizzywidget, High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and Ranger-General Shandris Feathermoon."
"Excuse me," Thrall said, and moved to meet them. From behind him, he heard Eitrigg's chuckle, and Saurfang's pointed response:
"Don't encourage him."
~ * ~
"How did you manage to convince Tyrande to come here?" Thrall asked between kisses. Jaina's fingers, which had been tracing a pattern against his chest, paused when she did.
"I pointed out that you were just as much responsible for the victory at Hyjal as I was, which meant you would welcome her as you would welcome me." She smiled. "Well, probably not quite the same way you welcome me."
"Probably not," Thrall agreed, taking one of her hands and kissing over her fingers. "It's still a step in the right direction for diplomatic efforts."
"They're still upset about Ashenvale," Jaina sighed softly. "I wish there was more we could do."
"I'm doing everything I can to make sure the trees are restored, but unfortunately, we do still need lumber." Thrall closed his eyes, and lay back against the pillows. "I understand how valuable those trees are, even if not all of my people do."
"You can't be everywhere, unfortunately," Jaina said, and brushed her lips across his forehead. "Nor can the spirits."
"Which is what my advisors tell me when I attempt to take care of everything myself," Thrall grumbled, but it was half-hearted. "I'm surprised you didn't bring a high elf with your retinue."
"Fiora was busy, she's running errands for me in Darkshore," Jaina replied. "And I couldn't very well force someone to come." She sighed softly. "I had no volunteers, though I don't believe it was personal. I think it has something to do with the fact you could bake pies on Durotar's streets."
"It is the longest day of the year," Thrall said, though he frowned. "It's not unprecedented. Is it bothering you?"
"I've hiked through worse," Jaina said, her tone honest. She reached up and traced along the sweat line that cut through the hair on Thrall's chest, and the combination of her voice and gesture making him smile. "Also, it's the first time in weeks I haven't had to field complaints or proxy meetings from Stormwind."
"Varian is upsetting you?" Thrall asked, a low rumble to his voice.
"Varian is concerned," Jaina corrected gently. "I'm not upset, but it's difficult to convince him of anything when we work through proxies. We don't even have the luxury of communication stones or scrying spells. He mentioned something about interference due to the Golden Spire Academy's magical aura."
"Is that common?" Thrall asked, half sitting up.
"It's not uncommon," Jaina admitted. "I couldn't be sure that was the actual issue unless I went there to check myself, and..."
"You don't want to go," Thrall finished. Thrall held out his arms, and Jaina settled into them. Jaina's apprehension was entirely justified: her own actions had placed her in a very precarious position involving the rest of the Alliance, and only the fact that the Alliance was now in tatters prevented greater action against her. Jaina's diplomatic efforts were constant attempts to prove that her actions had been justified, most of which were concentrated on Varian Wrynn. She won't even talk about trying to contact Kul Tiras...
"It would be best not to," Jaina said softly. "What does the Warchief of the Horde have planned for this holiday?"
"A shipment of fireworks arrived from Ratchet just recently," Thrall replied, accepting the change in topic with grace. "There are plans to launch them late tonight. The goblins setting them up have been strictly instructed to launch them outside Orgrimmar's gates."
"It would be terrible if something caught fire," Jaina said sincerely. "But I can't wait."
"Nor can I," Thrall replied. He leaned forward, and kissed her firmly. One of Jaina's hands moved to cup his cheek, stroking over the smooth part just above his beard. He shifted her against him, and moved one hand down to trace the curves of her back and hips, and then rested lightly on the small of her back. He groaned, low in his throat as she shifted against him, and her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin cloth of her dress.
The knock on the door caused Jaina to jump, and she bumped awkwardly against his tusks, and he swore softly.
"Warchief Thrall, there is news from the Barrens." Thrall growled softly, too softly to be heard, but he wondered if Eitrigg had heard it anyway, or if he was simply that predictable, because his advisor added, "It can't wait."
"I'll wait here," Jaina began, and Thrall shook his head once.
"Join me," Thrall said. He stood up, and with regret, found a towel to dry himself roughly before putting on a shirt while Jaina smoothed her hair and clothes. When they'd collected themselves, Thrall opened the door. Eitrigg was waiting politely, and Thrall reminded himself that the older orc was very patient, but not without his limits. "What is it?"
"This way," Eitrigg said, gesturing. Thrall nodded, and followed him to the meeting chamber. Only Saurfang awaited him, and he frowned. "We felt that as those who were officially on call, we didn't need to call in the others, and we believed you wanted the matter to be private."
"Jes'rimmon isn't here," Thrall pointed out. Saurfang and Eitrigg exchanged a look.
"He's investigating another manner, but this came to us directly," Saurfang said finally. He presented Thrall with a report that was splashed with blood. Thrall touched over it briefly, frowning deeply. "There's been an incident in the Crossroads."
"Who brought this, Sergra?" Thrall asked, skimming the report.
"No, Sergra is..." There was another exchange of looks, and Thrall growled impatiently. "Sergra Darkthorn has been captured by agents of the Burning Blade and taken to parts unknown."
There was a loud, grinding noise, and Thrall realized with a start that it was his own jaw. "What happened?"
"According to the reports, a matter of importance and secrecy was brought to Sergra by Ak'Zeloth, who's normally stationed at Far Watch Post. She went to investigate and was captured." When Thrall frowned, Saurfang continued. "Ak'Zeloth is one of Neeru's subordinate warlocks."
"Thrall is aware of Neeru's true loyalties," Eitrigg was saying to Jaina, and the confused expression on her face cleared. "Ak'Zeloth may be responsible for Sergra's disappearance--"
"We're going to speak to him, now," Thrall said, his voice quiet with menace. "The Shadow Council may play their games, but this is deliberate. How long has she been gone?"
"Our messenger relays brought this through the watch posts over the course of the last day and a half," Saurfang said. "Warchief--"
"And where is Ak'Zeloth now?" Thrall asked. The orcs were about fire, and right now, that fire was burning within him. If Sergra's in danger because of what we shared... I will not let Neeru get away with this, and may the spirits help Ak'Zeloth if this was truly his doing.
"I believe he's still assigned to Far Watch Post," Saurfang said.
"Warchief, is it safe to take care of this personally?" Eitrigg asked quietly. "It could be as much of a trap for you as it was for Sergra, and even with Shandel'zare's assistance, we cannot bring an entire army with us via mage portal."
"We don't need to bring an entire army," Jaina interjected quickly. "A small but powerful force could take care of it, couldn't it?" Both orc warriors turned to stare at her, and she met their looks with confidence. "I'll help you. After what the Horde has done to help Theramore in general and me personally, I wouldn't even think to stand by and let a good friend of Thrall's be harmed."
"Her reasoning is sound," Thrall added. "We need to take care of this quickly. The Shadow Council is not known for its mercy."
"Sentient sacrifices," Jaina murmured. "Humans, orcs... anyone."
"I have been instructed that if you're to go off and do something reckless, you're to be properly dressed for it first," Saurfang said, a touch of dryness to his tone. "We await your command, Warchief."
~ * ~
"Thrall?" Jaina called softly, and he turned. His armour was hot to the touch and uncomfortable to wear, but he bore it grimly. Jaina had been offered light robes by the troll mages that resided in Orgrimmar, and it made her look a bit wilder, though the blue and white robes were loose on a frame that was more slight than a troll's. Jaina had a worried look on her face, her lips set in a slight frown. "Who is Sergra?"
"Sergra is a shaman of the Earthen Ring," Thrall explained. "They're a group of shamans that have no direct political affiliation in Orgrimmar, but instead go where the elements need them. Most of them are hard to pin down, but Sergra enjoys her assignment in the Barrens."
Jaina nodded a little. "Perhaps I should rephrase. Who is Sergra to you?"
Thrall paused. "Sergra was one of the women that my advisors encouraged me to mate with. We were together several times before she went back to the Crossroads." He moved to pick up the Doomhammer, and held it, feeling its weight and history. It wasn't a mace in the strict sense that a human would see or understand, this weapon was a hammer with a jagged spike coming from the top, rough and almost unfinished. Orgrim had once told him that on long nights, it still felt wet with Blackhand's blood. If he closed his eyes, he might even be able to imagine Orgrim's pointed, dry observations. He should have been here, and so should Grom.
"You like her," Jaina observed quietly. "You're afraid for her."
"I do, and I am," Thrall said honestly. "That's why I want to rescue her as soon as possible. Are you ready to go?"
"I am," Jaina replied, and straightened. "I believe I've been to the Far Watch Post on our tour."
"I believe you have been as well," Thrall said. Unthinkingly, he moved to offer her his arm, but she moved away slightly. "I'm sorry, the armour is hot to touch."
"That's fine," Jaina said with a smile. "I should keep my hands free."
Thrall nodded, and led her out of his room. Saurfang and Eitrigg waited within the meeting chamber, though this time fully clad for war. Saurfang's blade was a thing of legends even within the Horde, and a number of extremely odd stories about his High Overlord's prowess in battle had reached his ears. Eitrigg, by contrast, wore arms that were unobtrusive, and yet still totally effective. Eitrigg's tendency was towards defense, having once claimed that if an aging paladin could get through his guard, he needed to work on it more.
Eitrigg nodded politely to Jaina, and Saurfang frowned slightly.
"Gentlemen," Jaina said, nodding back. "Are you all ready?"
"By my Warchief's command," Saurfang replied evenly. Eitrigg nodded, and Jaina's eyes met Thrall's. She then began to cast the spell to teleport them to Far Watch.
We're going to find her and bring her back safely, Thrall vowed grimly. And the Shadow Council will regret their actions.
~ * ~
Far Watch Post was the first watch tower on the east-west road that existed between Razor Hill and the Crossroads. This watchtower overlooked the Southfury River that was home to two fearsome, dangerous things: the current and crocolisks that plagued the coastline and had cost the Horde the lives of many of their young, incautious sons and daughters. Thrall had often thought that he would dislike having to deal with one directly, since they were fast and deadly on their six legs, and with their strong, snapping jaws.
It was late afternoon, and the sun over the Barrens was no less relentless than it had been in Durotar. The grunts at Far Watch nearly fell from their posts when Thrall appeared, giving them a grave greeting.
"We're looking for Ak'Zeloth," Eitrigg said while Thrall looked around.
There must be an impressive bonfire in the Crossroads if I can see the smoke from here, Thrall thought, and with a thought, requested a spirit of air to offer his greetings and sympathy for Sergra's absence. As it raced off, he listened:
"The warlock?" one guard said. "He went down to the river to collect water."
"How long has it been?" Saurfang asked sternly. "He's wanted for questioning--"
"Here I am, High Overlord," called a voice, and Thrall turned. He was younger than Neeru, and Az'Keloth was slight where most orcs were bulky. The hem of his purple robes were damp with water, and he did indeed bear two buckets that sloshed slightly as he set them down. Thrall narrowed his eyes.
Did you send Sergra to her end? Thrall asked him silently, and the warlock noticed his Warchief's gaze, and knelt.
"What is it that causes me to be the focus of your attention, Warchief?" he asked politely. "I believe it's the Midsummer festival in Orgrimmar, and I understood that you were busy."
Thrall frowned thoughtfully, and Jaina stepped forward. Thrall noticed a coil of magic in her hand. She reached out to touch the warlock's shoulder, and it uncoiled in a flash.
"We had some questions for you," Jaina said, a slight smile on her face, as if there was nothing at all strange about speaking to an orc warlock. "Will you answer them truthfully?"
"Of course," Ak'Zeloth replied. "You must be our ally, Lady Jaina Proudmoore. It's an honour." Around him, there was a faint aura of light, and Thrall glanced at Jaina. She nodded back, though there was a slight expression of strain on her face, and Thrall realized she'd cast a spell.
Let's see how good your spell is, Thrall thought. "Did you know Sergra Darkthorn has gone missing?"
Ak'Zeloth frowned. "I'd heard something had happened, a relay came through here recently, but I didn't know she was gone. What happened? Is she alright?"
The glow remained steady, and Saurfang answered: "She was kidnapped after investigating a matter you brought to her attention. Can you tell us what that was?"
The warlock shifted, and glanced over at his fellow guards. "It was to be a secret, I was told--"
"This is an emergency," Jaina said softly. "Please, you must understand that this is to help her."
Ak'Zeloth nodded once. "My mentor, Neeru, recently set me to the task of destroying some demonic artifacts. In the process of doing so, I overheard a conversation through one of them. Like a kind of... of..."
"Communication crystal," Jaina supplied, and he nodded. "I've made a number of them myself."
"The conversation mentioned a demon that was being summoned somewhere, and thinking it was important, I reported it to the nearest member of the Earthen Ring," Ak'Zeloth finished. "She said she would look into it... I didn't think it was anything she couldn't handle. I volunteered to go with her, but she said it was better she investigated on her own. That was a few days ago."
Silence. The glow didn't waver, but the orc warlock's expression of worry deepened.
"Where was the demon being summoned?" Thrall asked, his voice a deep, angry rumble.
"Dreadmist Peak," Ak'Zeloth said. "I want to help, this is my mistake. I won't run like a coward."
"Maybe he can help us, if he's more familiar with demonic magic than I am," Jaina said quietly. "We're running out of time."
"Saurfang, Eitrigg, escort him and watch him," Thrall commanded. "We'll ride to Dreadmist Peak and--" One of the guards straightened suddenly, and Thrall's eyes fell to him. "What is it?"
"Communication stone," the guard replied, and thumbed it on. "Speak. The Warchief listens."
"The Crossroads is under attack!" the voice on the other end said without preamble. "We're defending the city, but we need reinforcements now!"
Thrall winced as the spirits raced back to him, repeating the warning. "Centaur. Jaina--"
"Immediately," Jaina agreed. "Tell them we're coming." She began to cast the teleportation spell, and a shadow fell across them. Thrall looked up, and saw the sky was streaked with red as the sun began to set. To the west, Thrall could now see that the smoke he'd believed to be from a bonfire was a fire in truth.
Another delay... Sergra, we're coming. I promise.
Chapter 9
Title: Unity
Part: 8 of ? (I have no idea. They won't stop talking)
Word Count: 4495 (of this part)
Warnings: Implied sex, actual sex, orc/human, mentioned death and suicide, angst. More romance and drama in this one, far less violence.
Pairings: Mentioned Thrall/Others, primarily Thrall/Jaina. Mentioned past Arthas/Jaina and past one-sided Kael/Jaina.
Summary: It's summer in Durotar, which brings heat and more celebrations.
Previous Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
The heat was sweltering, coming off of the ground in waves beneath him but Thrall remained still, his eyes closed. Around him, he could hear the shamans chanting. Midsummer was a time to honour the spirits of Fire, and Thrall was not so forgetful, despite what the last few months had been like.
The trials of the deserters from Theramore had been swift and decisive. Jaina had overseen their executions personally, and requested that Thrall remain in Orgrimmar, though they had discussed it at length later. James Hyal had still been unwell, but Jaina had taken a risk and sent agents to the Eastern Kingdoms to find his brother, Vincent, and urged him to come to Kalimdor. Vincent Hyal had been willing to run the new Shady Rest Inn that had been erected in a slightly different location. Jaina had ordered the site of the original Shady Rest Inn to be consecrated and made into a memorial for those who'd been lost. Jaina had personally warded the new Inn against fire and sabotage, and promised that no more lives would be lost in the name of peace.
The ogres of Brackenwall had anticipated an attack that had never occurred, and shortly afterwards, Mok'Morokk had openly fled a challenge by another ogre. From what Thrall understood, Draz'Zilb was quite pleased with Overlord Ogron. The Grimtotem were still seen occasionally in Dustwallow, but there was nothing more of Awn-yee or the Defias. Despite this, the past few months had been exceptionally busy, and Thrall had only had time to see Jaina a scant handful of times before duty demanded their attention.
Memories of that time made Thrall smile, though, and he had to be careful not to let his attention waver from the task at hand. He and Jaina had spoken more openly about personal matters, and those conversations had been in every way just as awkward as their first meetings after Daelin Proudmoore's death. Still, he looked forward to seeing Jaina after the fire dedication ceremony, as she had promised that she had time to visit Orgrimmar.
First, though, fire. Thrall felt a rivulet of sweat run down the middle of his back catching in the hairs. He ignored it, and instead reached towards the fire. The elementals within it produced no heat, and settled against his hands.
"Spirits of Fire, we honour you, on this the longest day of the year. We thank you for the warmth you bring us in cold times, the weapons we need in difficult times, and the power we need in weak times. Bless us with your power, guide us with your strength. We have fire in our blood."
"The blood is our power, and there is fire in our blood," the other shamans echoed back, one by one. Thrall felt the flames lick against his fingers.
We are glad to bless you, and may you keep the fire in your hearts strong, the fire spirits replied, and abruptly, the fire went out, then reignited, and Thrall had to pull his hands back. He opened his eyes, and smiled at his fellow shamans. It was good to see them, Zor and Seereth, and many of the others. Sergra had declined, but promised to honour Fire in her own way.
There's too much to be done out here, she'd said when he protested. There will be so many other shamans that you won't miss me.
I will always miss you, Thrall said sincerely. There is no greater hunter in Orgrimmar.
Flattery is a human quality, she'd growled, but sounded pleased despite that. I will visit again soon, Warchief, for dinner.
For dinner only, Thrall thought, but smiled. Jaina's company, as scarce as it was, was making the more pointed glares from some of his advisors -- namely, Naz'grel -- more tolerable. Garona had been oddly quiet.
One of the shamans offered him his arm, and he took it, standing. He groaned softly and stretched as the other shamans all stood, discussing the next part of the Midsummer festival, which involved fireworks, and mating.
It will be good to have Jaina here, Thrall reflected. We can spend time together while everyone else is busy--
"Warchief Thrall." Thrall looked over and frowned thinly. The speaker was wearing a loose cloth robe of red and black cloth, and his hair and beard were touched with red. There was a wild and intense look in his eyes.
"Neeru," Thrall said evenly. "Are you here to celebrate Midsummer with us?"
The other orc's expression twitched, and Thrall was not surprised. Neeru was a warlock, though not a servant of the Burning Legion... or so he claimed. Thrall was neither foolish nor stupid, and even without Garona's reports on Neeru's extracurricular activities, he would know that Neeru was the leader of the Burning Blade and a pawn of the Shadow Council. The Burning Blade were originally a loose, anarchist group of orcs that recognized no leader, and instead simply killed what got in their way. Somehow, their clan, if not their members, had survived the years between the closing of the Dark Portal and the trip to Kalimdor, and they caused trouble whenever they could, unconcerned about harming fellow orcs as well as humans.
"Not quite," Neeru admitted. "Though I can certainly appreciate fire... there is a matter I wish to discuss with you."
"I have time," Thrall said simply. "Walk with me."
Neeru nodded once, and they began to walk. Despite the heat, there were huge bonfires everywhere, and brightly coloured ribbons that had arrived from Ratchet adorned makeshift poles. Thrall caught one of the ribbons briefly between his fingers, letting them wrap around his wrist.
"Would you like one, Warchief?" asked one of the teenagers setting up blue and orange ribbon clusters. "We've got extra."
"Certainly," Thrall said gravely, and they gave him one, smiling and giggling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neeru frown briefly. He secured the cluster in his pocket, and continued to walk. There was an odd kind of chill as they passed closer to the Drag.
"It's very festive, Warchief," Neeru commented. "Is it safe to..?"
"Naturally. The spirits will warn me of any unfriendly presence," Thrall said shortly. "Speak."
"As you know, I've been performing research about the Burning Legion on your behalf, and I've discovered something of the utmost importance," Neeru began. "I have learned that the Searing Blade have summoned a powerful demon that could potentially cause a great deal of trouble." Thrall frowned at the mention of another, smaller group of Legion worshippers. "At some expense, I have found out that this demon is known as Taragaman the Hungerer. I believe they hold him there, ready to unleash him at any time from Ragefire Chasm."
"I'll have my agents look into it, thank you," Thrall said, a thin frown on his face. Neeru saluted, and Thrall walked past him, and out of earshot. "He's not lying entirely."
"Not entirely," Garona agreed, stepping out of the shadows. "My agents report that Taragaman's failed to be useful, and the Shadow Council's intention is to sacrifice him to appease you."
"Any word on Fel'dan's location?" Thrall asked, his lips curled into a snarl.
"None so far," Garona replied evenly. "Azeroth is only so big, we'll find him soon enough. Give it time."
Thrall closed one hand into a fist. "They shouldn't have come to Kalimdor in the first place. They were hiding within the Horde."
"There's a reason I told you the spirits couldn't be everywhere," Garona murmured. "You can't solve everything by yourself, Thrall."
"Can't I try?" Thrall asked, relaxing slowly.
"You can try, but then someone else has to remind you that you're not a god when you fail," Garona replied tartly. "Your escort will arrive shortly."
"I thought you were too comfortably dressed for a walk," Thrall observed dryly, gesturing to her matte black clothing and the cowl that covered most of her features. "Where are you going?"
"The happiest place on Azeroth," Garona answered.
"Undercity?"
"Alright, the second happiest."
"Hyjal."
"Remind me why I waste so much time talking to you?" Garona grumbled.
"You'd be lonely without me," Thrall reminded her. "Felwood?"
"There you go," Garona replied. "I'm investigating rumours about some kind of cult there. Since the place is actively demon corrupted, I thought that the Shadow Council might be sticking their noses in there."
"Watch out for the Night Elves, I believe there are active Sentinel patrols in that area," Thrall warned her. "The Kaldorei are only sometimes friendly."
"Might have something to do with the Warsong lumber mill in Ashenvale," Garona murmured and Thrall winced. "They're here, and now I am not."
"Warchief Thrall." Varok Saurfang and Eitrigg of the Blackrock Clan were standing with a large patrol of Kor'Kron, and Thrall greeted his advisors politely. "We're ready to escort you to the ribbon pole dedication."
"Thank you," Thrall said, and fell into step. He smiled at the way the ribbons fluttered from every window that could support them. This holiday was understood by the Horde. Celebrating the elements, particularly fire, appealed to them, and not only that, fire suited the orcs. Orcs are passionate. Fire burns within us. That fire can strengthen us or make us blind.
Orcs and trolls waved from their windows. The trolls seemed to be enjoying the heat and taking this opportunity to don as little clothing as possible. Most of them seemed to wear only simple bands around their chests if they bothered with upper body clothing at all, and loincloths that hung low on their hips. Some of the more adventurous orcs had taken up the same style of dress, and it made for a somewhat distracting walk, but a pleasant one.
The ribbon pole had been erected in the same location as the tree had been placed for Winter Veil, and his people had wasted no time starting to dance. The drummers, also half-naked, were creating a steady, addictive rhythm. It was like the heart of the earth itself was beating, and Thrall could easily believe in the Earthmother, laying below them, listening as those that walked the surface worked.
"Who are we waiting for, Warchief?" Eitrigg asked quietly, and Thrall smiled.
"You'll know when you see her."
Saurfang frowned thinly. A scout came up and whispered in his ear, and his frown deepened. Thrall, on the other hand, watched with anticipation. From Orgrimmar's gates came a small procession. There were two, tall Night Elves astride nightsabers, and their mounts growled softly at the worgs that were stabled by the entrance. There were soft, mechanical sounds of a device that resembled a plainstrider, but was actually a machine, and the gnome that sat on it looked around curiously through his goggles. A ram bleated as it passed by the worgs, and its dwarven rider soothed it, but Thrall's eyes fell to the human woman that was not on foot, but floating on an invisible wind.
It doesn't surprise me you couldn't get a horse to carry you, Thrall thought fondly, remembering the tales of woe that were her equestrian experiences. The human woman met his gaze, her blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. Like many of Orgrimmar's citizens, she was wearing a minimum of clothing, and the thin, white cloth clung to her curves in the heat.
"Arriving from Theramore Isle, and Ashenvale, Lady Jaina Proudmoore, Explorer Dwaena Ironboot, Tinker Melvin Fizzywidget, High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind and Ranger-General Shandris Feathermoon."
"Excuse me," Thrall said, and moved to meet them. From behind him, he heard Eitrigg's chuckle, and Saurfang's pointed response:
"Don't encourage him."
~ * ~
"How did you manage to convince Tyrande to come here?" Thrall asked between kisses. Jaina's fingers, which had been tracing a pattern against his chest, paused when she did.
"I pointed out that you were just as much responsible for the victory at Hyjal as I was, which meant you would welcome her as you would welcome me." She smiled. "Well, probably not quite the same way you welcome me."
"Probably not," Thrall agreed, taking one of her hands and kissing over her fingers. "It's still a step in the right direction for diplomatic efforts."
"They're still upset about Ashenvale," Jaina sighed softly. "I wish there was more we could do."
"I'm doing everything I can to make sure the trees are restored, but unfortunately, we do still need lumber." Thrall closed his eyes, and lay back against the pillows. "I understand how valuable those trees are, even if not all of my people do."
"You can't be everywhere, unfortunately," Jaina said, and brushed her lips across his forehead. "Nor can the spirits."
"Which is what my advisors tell me when I attempt to take care of everything myself," Thrall grumbled, but it was half-hearted. "I'm surprised you didn't bring a high elf with your retinue."
"Fiora was busy, she's running errands for me in Darkshore," Jaina replied. "And I couldn't very well force someone to come." She sighed softly. "I had no volunteers, though I don't believe it was personal. I think it has something to do with the fact you could bake pies on Durotar's streets."
"It is the longest day of the year," Thrall said, though he frowned. "It's not unprecedented. Is it bothering you?"
"I've hiked through worse," Jaina said, her tone honest. She reached up and traced along the sweat line that cut through the hair on Thrall's chest, and the combination of her voice and gesture making him smile. "Also, it's the first time in weeks I haven't had to field complaints or proxy meetings from Stormwind."
"Varian is upsetting you?" Thrall asked, a low rumble to his voice.
"Varian is concerned," Jaina corrected gently. "I'm not upset, but it's difficult to convince him of anything when we work through proxies. We don't even have the luxury of communication stones or scrying spells. He mentioned something about interference due to the Golden Spire Academy's magical aura."
"Is that common?" Thrall asked, half sitting up.
"It's not uncommon," Jaina admitted. "I couldn't be sure that was the actual issue unless I went there to check myself, and..."
"You don't want to go," Thrall finished. Thrall held out his arms, and Jaina settled into them. Jaina's apprehension was entirely justified: her own actions had placed her in a very precarious position involving the rest of the Alliance, and only the fact that the Alliance was now in tatters prevented greater action against her. Jaina's diplomatic efforts were constant attempts to prove that her actions had been justified, most of which were concentrated on Varian Wrynn. She won't even talk about trying to contact Kul Tiras...
"It would be best not to," Jaina said softly. "What does the Warchief of the Horde have planned for this holiday?"
"A shipment of fireworks arrived from Ratchet just recently," Thrall replied, accepting the change in topic with grace. "There are plans to launch them late tonight. The goblins setting them up have been strictly instructed to launch them outside Orgrimmar's gates."
"It would be terrible if something caught fire," Jaina said sincerely. "But I can't wait."
"Nor can I," Thrall replied. He leaned forward, and kissed her firmly. One of Jaina's hands moved to cup his cheek, stroking over the smooth part just above his beard. He shifted her against him, and moved one hand down to trace the curves of her back and hips, and then rested lightly on the small of her back. He groaned, low in his throat as she shifted against him, and her breasts pressed against his chest through the thin cloth of her dress.
The knock on the door caused Jaina to jump, and she bumped awkwardly against his tusks, and he swore softly.
"Warchief Thrall, there is news from the Barrens." Thrall growled softly, too softly to be heard, but he wondered if Eitrigg had heard it anyway, or if he was simply that predictable, because his advisor added, "It can't wait."
"I'll wait here," Jaina began, and Thrall shook his head once.
"Join me," Thrall said. He stood up, and with regret, found a towel to dry himself roughly before putting on a shirt while Jaina smoothed her hair and clothes. When they'd collected themselves, Thrall opened the door. Eitrigg was waiting politely, and Thrall reminded himself that the older orc was very patient, but not without his limits. "What is it?"
"This way," Eitrigg said, gesturing. Thrall nodded, and followed him to the meeting chamber. Only Saurfang awaited him, and he frowned. "We felt that as those who were officially on call, we didn't need to call in the others, and we believed you wanted the matter to be private."
"Jes'rimmon isn't here," Thrall pointed out. Saurfang and Eitrigg exchanged a look.
"He's investigating another manner, but this came to us directly," Saurfang said finally. He presented Thrall with a report that was splashed with blood. Thrall touched over it briefly, frowning deeply. "There's been an incident in the Crossroads."
"Who brought this, Sergra?" Thrall asked, skimming the report.
"No, Sergra is..." There was another exchange of looks, and Thrall growled impatiently. "Sergra Darkthorn has been captured by agents of the Burning Blade and taken to parts unknown."
There was a loud, grinding noise, and Thrall realized with a start that it was his own jaw. "What happened?"
"According to the reports, a matter of importance and secrecy was brought to Sergra by Ak'Zeloth, who's normally stationed at Far Watch Post. She went to investigate and was captured." When Thrall frowned, Saurfang continued. "Ak'Zeloth is one of Neeru's subordinate warlocks."
"Thrall is aware of Neeru's true loyalties," Eitrigg was saying to Jaina, and the confused expression on her face cleared. "Ak'Zeloth may be responsible for Sergra's disappearance--"
"We're going to speak to him, now," Thrall said, his voice quiet with menace. "The Shadow Council may play their games, but this is deliberate. How long has she been gone?"
"Our messenger relays brought this through the watch posts over the course of the last day and a half," Saurfang said. "Warchief--"
"And where is Ak'Zeloth now?" Thrall asked. The orcs were about fire, and right now, that fire was burning within him. If Sergra's in danger because of what we shared... I will not let Neeru get away with this, and may the spirits help Ak'Zeloth if this was truly his doing.
"I believe he's still assigned to Far Watch Post," Saurfang said.
"Warchief, is it safe to take care of this personally?" Eitrigg asked quietly. "It could be as much of a trap for you as it was for Sergra, and even with Shandel'zare's assistance, we cannot bring an entire army with us via mage portal."
"We don't need to bring an entire army," Jaina interjected quickly. "A small but powerful force could take care of it, couldn't it?" Both orc warriors turned to stare at her, and she met their looks with confidence. "I'll help you. After what the Horde has done to help Theramore in general and me personally, I wouldn't even think to stand by and let a good friend of Thrall's be harmed."
"Her reasoning is sound," Thrall added. "We need to take care of this quickly. The Shadow Council is not known for its mercy."
"Sentient sacrifices," Jaina murmured. "Humans, orcs... anyone."
"I have been instructed that if you're to go off and do something reckless, you're to be properly dressed for it first," Saurfang said, a touch of dryness to his tone. "We await your command, Warchief."
~ * ~
"Thrall?" Jaina called softly, and he turned. His armour was hot to the touch and uncomfortable to wear, but he bore it grimly. Jaina had been offered light robes by the troll mages that resided in Orgrimmar, and it made her look a bit wilder, though the blue and white robes were loose on a frame that was more slight than a troll's. Jaina had a worried look on her face, her lips set in a slight frown. "Who is Sergra?"
"Sergra is a shaman of the Earthen Ring," Thrall explained. "They're a group of shamans that have no direct political affiliation in Orgrimmar, but instead go where the elements need them. Most of them are hard to pin down, but Sergra enjoys her assignment in the Barrens."
Jaina nodded a little. "Perhaps I should rephrase. Who is Sergra to you?"
Thrall paused. "Sergra was one of the women that my advisors encouraged me to mate with. We were together several times before she went back to the Crossroads." He moved to pick up the Doomhammer, and held it, feeling its weight and history. It wasn't a mace in the strict sense that a human would see or understand, this weapon was a hammer with a jagged spike coming from the top, rough and almost unfinished. Orgrim had once told him that on long nights, it still felt wet with Blackhand's blood. If he closed his eyes, he might even be able to imagine Orgrim's pointed, dry observations. He should have been here, and so should Grom.
"You like her," Jaina observed quietly. "You're afraid for her."
"I do, and I am," Thrall said honestly. "That's why I want to rescue her as soon as possible. Are you ready to go?"
"I am," Jaina replied, and straightened. "I believe I've been to the Far Watch Post on our tour."
"I believe you have been as well," Thrall said. Unthinkingly, he moved to offer her his arm, but she moved away slightly. "I'm sorry, the armour is hot to touch."
"That's fine," Jaina said with a smile. "I should keep my hands free."
Thrall nodded, and led her out of his room. Saurfang and Eitrigg waited within the meeting chamber, though this time fully clad for war. Saurfang's blade was a thing of legends even within the Horde, and a number of extremely odd stories about his High Overlord's prowess in battle had reached his ears. Eitrigg, by contrast, wore arms that were unobtrusive, and yet still totally effective. Eitrigg's tendency was towards defense, having once claimed that if an aging paladin could get through his guard, he needed to work on it more.
Eitrigg nodded politely to Jaina, and Saurfang frowned slightly.
"Gentlemen," Jaina said, nodding back. "Are you all ready?"
"By my Warchief's command," Saurfang replied evenly. Eitrigg nodded, and Jaina's eyes met Thrall's. She then began to cast the spell to teleport them to Far Watch.
We're going to find her and bring her back safely, Thrall vowed grimly. And the Shadow Council will regret their actions.
~ * ~
Far Watch Post was the first watch tower on the east-west road that existed between Razor Hill and the Crossroads. This watchtower overlooked the Southfury River that was home to two fearsome, dangerous things: the current and crocolisks that plagued the coastline and had cost the Horde the lives of many of their young, incautious sons and daughters. Thrall had often thought that he would dislike having to deal with one directly, since they were fast and deadly on their six legs, and with their strong, snapping jaws.
It was late afternoon, and the sun over the Barrens was no less relentless than it had been in Durotar. The grunts at Far Watch nearly fell from their posts when Thrall appeared, giving them a grave greeting.
"We're looking for Ak'Zeloth," Eitrigg said while Thrall looked around.
There must be an impressive bonfire in the Crossroads if I can see the smoke from here, Thrall thought, and with a thought, requested a spirit of air to offer his greetings and sympathy for Sergra's absence. As it raced off, he listened:
"The warlock?" one guard said. "He went down to the river to collect water."
"How long has it been?" Saurfang asked sternly. "He's wanted for questioning--"
"Here I am, High Overlord," called a voice, and Thrall turned. He was younger than Neeru, and Az'Keloth was slight where most orcs were bulky. The hem of his purple robes were damp with water, and he did indeed bear two buckets that sloshed slightly as he set them down. Thrall narrowed his eyes.
Did you send Sergra to her end? Thrall asked him silently, and the warlock noticed his Warchief's gaze, and knelt.
"What is it that causes me to be the focus of your attention, Warchief?" he asked politely. "I believe it's the Midsummer festival in Orgrimmar, and I understood that you were busy."
Thrall frowned thoughtfully, and Jaina stepped forward. Thrall noticed a coil of magic in her hand. She reached out to touch the warlock's shoulder, and it uncoiled in a flash.
"We had some questions for you," Jaina said, a slight smile on her face, as if there was nothing at all strange about speaking to an orc warlock. "Will you answer them truthfully?"
"Of course," Ak'Zeloth replied. "You must be our ally, Lady Jaina Proudmoore. It's an honour." Around him, there was a faint aura of light, and Thrall glanced at Jaina. She nodded back, though there was a slight expression of strain on her face, and Thrall realized she'd cast a spell.
Let's see how good your spell is, Thrall thought. "Did you know Sergra Darkthorn has gone missing?"
Ak'Zeloth frowned. "I'd heard something had happened, a relay came through here recently, but I didn't know she was gone. What happened? Is she alright?"
The glow remained steady, and Saurfang answered: "She was kidnapped after investigating a matter you brought to her attention. Can you tell us what that was?"
The warlock shifted, and glanced over at his fellow guards. "It was to be a secret, I was told--"
"This is an emergency," Jaina said softly. "Please, you must understand that this is to help her."
Ak'Zeloth nodded once. "My mentor, Neeru, recently set me to the task of destroying some demonic artifacts. In the process of doing so, I overheard a conversation through one of them. Like a kind of... of..."
"Communication crystal," Jaina supplied, and he nodded. "I've made a number of them myself."
"The conversation mentioned a demon that was being summoned somewhere, and thinking it was important, I reported it to the nearest member of the Earthen Ring," Ak'Zeloth finished. "She said she would look into it... I didn't think it was anything she couldn't handle. I volunteered to go with her, but she said it was better she investigated on her own. That was a few days ago."
Silence. The glow didn't waver, but the orc warlock's expression of worry deepened.
"Where was the demon being summoned?" Thrall asked, his voice a deep, angry rumble.
"Dreadmist Peak," Ak'Zeloth said. "I want to help, this is my mistake. I won't run like a coward."
"Maybe he can help us, if he's more familiar with demonic magic than I am," Jaina said quietly. "We're running out of time."
"Saurfang, Eitrigg, escort him and watch him," Thrall commanded. "We'll ride to Dreadmist Peak and--" One of the guards straightened suddenly, and Thrall's eyes fell to him. "What is it?"
"Communication stone," the guard replied, and thumbed it on. "Speak. The Warchief listens."
"The Crossroads is under attack!" the voice on the other end said without preamble. "We're defending the city, but we need reinforcements now!"
Thrall winced as the spirits raced back to him, repeating the warning. "Centaur. Jaina--"
"Immediately," Jaina agreed. "Tell them we're coming." She began to cast the teleportation spell, and a shadow fell across them. Thrall looked up, and saw the sky was streaked with red as the sun began to set. To the west, Thrall could now see that the smoke he'd believed to be from a bonfire was a fire in truth.
Another delay... Sergra, we're coming. I promise.
Chapter 9