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Probably not, he thought. Malygos had been responsible for starting the Nexus War. His goal had been to direct arcane energy away from everywhere but his own realm. It was good-hearted enough of her to seem to want to be his friend. He didn’t want to risk asking for anything more, especially now, with an attack poised to happen right on her doorstep.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Jaina said flippantly. Kalec felt a surge of anger at whoever or whatever had made her think so disparagingly of herself. Was it Kael’thas? Arthas? Her father, whom she had so bravely stood against when all logic and all emotion doubtless cried out that she should not? There was a sorrow in her eyes, one that had not come from news of imminent battle—a sorrow that had been there since the moment he arrived. A sorrow he longed to chase away.

She needed him right now. The Kirin Tor would likely turn their backs on her, abandon Theramore to fall beneath the wave of orc, troll, tauren, Forsaken, goblin, and blood elf. In his mind’s eye, he saw Jaina standing alone, wielding startlingly powerful magic, her strong face all the more beautiful in her fierce determination to defend her city.

But all the skill in the world, if wielded only by a single person, could not stand against such odds. Theramore would fall, and Jaina with it.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment, he sensed a slight tingling of magic in the air. Jaina’s eyes widened and she leaped to her feet, hurrying to tap the three books in their special order. The bookcase slid back to reveal the mirror pulsing with mist.

“Speak,” Jaina said in a voice tremulous with hope.

At the command, the mist in the mirror took on the shape of a human male face.

Archmage Rhonin.

“You are a very persuasive woman, Lady,” said Rhonin. “While the Kirin Tor feels very strongly that we should remain impartial, your plea moved us to action. Even Aethas Sunreaver voted in favor of rendering aid. It seems that to not assist you against such tremendous opposition would be to tacitly support the Horde. At least, that’s the logic he used.”

“Please tell Archmage Aethas that his logic is deeply appreciated,” Jaina said. Her slim body was quivering as she forcibly kept her composure. She looked as though she was struggling not to leap for joy. Kalec knew he wanted to.

“I and several others will be arriving shortly to lend our assistance in the defense of Theramore. I stress the word ‘defense.’ We will protect, but we will make no offensive moves. Our greatest hope is that our presence will serve as a deterrent. Is this fully understood?”

“Quite fully, Archmage. It is my hope as well that somehow we can find a peaceful solution.”

Rhonin sighed, dropping his formerly stern mien. “I suspect we’re all just whistling in the dark, but we’ll be damned if we sit by and twiddle our thumbs. Expect us shortly.”

The image faded. There was a final swirl of magical blue mist, and then the mirror placidly reflected only Jaina and Kalecgos.

Jaina sagged with relief. “Thank the Light,” she murmured. “They will get here in time, even if—” She shook her head, as if to chase away the negative thought that Varian’s fleet might not arrive in time. She smiled radiantly, and Kalec’s heart jumped in his chest.

He wanted to speak. But he couldn’t. The inner voice—of wisdom or fear, he knew not which—spoke and said, No. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Kalec was aware of what he had to do—for both of them. And the knowing was like a knife in his gut.

“I am very glad indeed,” he said. “They will protect Theramore as well as I could, perhaps better.”

Some of her exuberance subsided. “Could?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said. “You have reminded me of a duty I must perform. Now that I know you have allies, I am going to do another sweep of the continent, to see if perhaps I can close in on the Focusing Iris.”

“I see. Of course, that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled briskly, and the sorrow returned to her eyes. Doubtless because she felt that he was abandoning her.

Which I am, he thought sickly. But it is for her own good. He knew if he stayed, he would be unable to refrain from speaking his heart. And that would be a burden Lady Jaina Proudmoore most certainly did not need as she faced what could be Theramore’s darkest hour.

As he had told Jaina, Archmage Rhonin and others of the Kirin Tor would protect her as well as he could, and none of them was in danger of distracting Jaina from what needed to be her pure, focused purpose.

“I suppose this is good-bye, then,” Jaina said. She smiled, the sincere yet practiced smile of the diplomat, and extended her hand. Kalecgos took it, closing his fingers around her slender ones, savoring the simple handshake for what it surely must have been—the last time he would be able to touch her.

“You are in good hands,” he said.

“The finest in Azeroth,” Jaina said cheerfully. “I wish you every success, Kalecgos. I know you will find what you are seeking. For your flight, and for the whole world. Perhaps… after the battle, if you do not find it, I can be of further help?”

He swallowed hard, then let her hand fall. “After the battle, if I do not find it, you shall be the first to know,” he said sincerely.

Kalecgos strode with more energy than was warranted out of the tower and into an area clear enough for him to transform. He leaped into the sky, extending his senses, willing the cursed Focusing Iris to slow, to stop, so that he could recover it and return to Jaina. But it would not cooperate, and its rapid speed taunted him as he flapped his wings and sped off in what was probably futile pursuit.

Jaina was surprised at Kalec’s rather abrupt departure and realized that she had assumed he would stay and help. But it was not his battle, she reasoned; he probably had already intervened much more than he had originally intended. Charming as he was in his half-elven form, he was, in the end, a dragon. And the dragons did not take sides in the affairs of the younger races. Still, she felt an odd sense of loss. He had become a friend during these tense few days, and she would miss him more than she had expected.

She did not have time to brood on his absence, however, as Rhonin, true to his word, materialized outside Jaina’s tower a scant half hour after he had contacted her. And also true to his word, he did not come alone.

With him were nearly a dozen others, four of whom Jaina knew to be prominent members of the Kirin Tor, if not members of the council. The rest of the magi she did not know, but she certainly recognized Vereesa Windrunner. Clearly, she was not going to let her husband be put in harm’s way without standing beside him. Jaina gave her a welcoming smile and turned to the magi.

The four premier magi Rhonin had selected were Tari Cogg, one of the foremost gnome magi in Dalaran; Amara Leeson, a human mage with long black hair and a pinched-looking face whose cross expression belied a kind heart; Thoder Windermere, whose massive physical build and roughed-up features would make one think he was a warrior rather than one of the deftest spellcasters Jaina had ever met; and, to her surprise, Thalen Songweaver, a Sunreaver, slender, sharp-featured, and with hair the color of moonlight.

“I know many of you and look forward to getting to know the rest,” Jaina said warmly, “and I thank you from my heart for answering my call for aid. Mage Songweaver, I especially thank you for being here. The choice must have been difficult, for you and for Archmage Aethas.”

“Not as much as you would think,” said Songweaver in a husky, pleasant voice. “It was my lord Aethas who cast the deciding vote.”