At once Kalec veered toward the citadel and placed Jaina on its roof with exquisite gentleness. She gave him a heartfelt smile of gratitude. Kalec started to rise, but she held a hand out to him, imploring him to stop.
“Kalec, wait! You should know—Garrosh is with the forces at the north gate! If we can capture him—”
“Then we can end this war right now,” he replied. “I understand.”
“Stop the flow through the gate—then try to find Garrosh!”
He nodded, rose, turned, breathed frost once more upon the Horde combatants still pouring in from the north gate, then headed toward the swamp.
From her position, Jaina had an excellent view. She looked to the harbor. It seemed as though the two sides were evenly matched; there were Horde ships and Alliance both aflame, and she could see the banners of each side fluttering plaintively aboard half-sunken wreckage. The west gate held, and she felt a fierce swell of pride in Kinndy. Several hunters, magi, warlocks, and others who could fight well from a distance were lined along the walkways.
She turned to the north, and she felt both sadness and resolution. With so many in close quarters, she needed to target cleanly, so as to wound or kill the enemy without harming a fellow member of the Alliance.
Her eyes fell first upon Baine, and she felt a pang. Baine was locked in combat with Pained, and she realized that as long as there were other enemies to fight, she could not bring herself to attack the tauren high chieftain. And Light knew, there were plenty of other targets—undead wielding swords with arms that were half-rotting; massive orcs; small, swift goblins; beautiful sin’dorei who moved like dancers.
She focused on an orc shaman whose dark-hued garb seemed to more resemble that of a warlock than the pleasant natural hues Go’el had worn. Jaina murmured a spell, and shards of ice went flying toward the shaman. They pierced his black robes like so many daggers, and he arched in pain. He dropped, and Jaina, regretfully but efficiently, sought another target.
It was the first crashing sound of a boulder being dropped in front of the ruined gate that alerted Vol’jin that perhaps Garrosh’s plan had a flaw. A big one.
He was in the courtyard with many others, using his connections with the loa to help his brothers and sisters. An undulating, hissing serpent ward kept several Alliance soldiers from attacking Horde members. He whirled, momentarily distracted as the boulder slammed down.
He swore in his native tongue, glancing about. Baine was battling beside Garrosh. The blue-haired night elf seemed to be giving Baine a good fight. Several Alliance defenders, including two dwarves dressed in very formal armor, were attacking Garrosh. A few moments earlier, the blue dragon had passed over them, slowing their movements. And now, that same creature was determined to shore up the gate.
Vol’jin fought his way up to Garrosh and Baine. Shouting to be heard over the din, he cried in Orcish, “Dat dragon be tryin’ to trap us!”
Baine’s long ears swiveled forward, and then the high chieftain skillfully maneuvered himself and the elf he was fighting so he could see. His eyes widened. The elf leaped on him, but Baine got his mace up and slammed her away. She turned the fall into a roll and started to come at him again. Swiftly Vol’jin set the serpent ward upon her, buying the tauren a brief respite.
“Garrosh!” bellowed Baine. “We will be sealed inside!”
Garrosh grunted and risked a quick glance. Strangely, he did not seem too concerned. “Agreed. Fall back, my Horde! Fall back to your brothers!”
A horn sounded the retreat. The boulder was joined by a large tree. A shaman called out for aid from the elements, and the boulder rolled away slightly, widening the gap. The Horde, once so keen to enter Theramore, now hastened to leave it. The Alliance, however, did all they could to stop the escape, renewing their efforts in hand-to-hand combat and shoring up the broken gate as fast as the Horde could tear it down.
Baine hung back, trying to fend off the persistent night elf, buying time for his people to escape. Vol’jin called to his trolls, though it was clear the bloodlust was high in them and they did not wish to stop fighting. Garrosh, strangely, hurried out, pausing to call back to those who did not follow at once.
“Baine!” he shouted. “Retreat now! I have no wish to mount a rescue party to save your furry hide!”
With a growl, Baine forced the night elf to dodge, slammed her once more with his mace, and raced through the ever-narrowing crack in the gate.
They were retreating! Again the deep song of the Horde war horn cut through the air. Not only were the attackers from the north fleeing back through the swamp, but those on the west were also hastening toward safety.
Jaina turned, trying to see if the same order had been given to the ships in the harbor. It seemed so—as she watched, shaking a little with released tension, the Horde vessels that remained were sailing for open water. The 7th fleet did not pursue, doubtless on Admiral Aubrey’s orders.
Jaina let out a long breath. A large shadow blocked the sun for a moment. Peering up, she saw Kalecgos hovering. He dropped lower, reaching out a forepaw to her, and she happily climbed into it.
“We won, Kalec!” Jaina cried. “We won!”
18
“He is gone!” snapped Pained. “That cursed traitor Songweaver—he is gone! I am getting reports that a small group of Horde came in and freed him!”
“I will take some Sentinels and try to find them,” Shandris stated. “They must not be allowed to escape.”
“Indeed, they cannot,” said Vereesa. “I will not let a blood elf reveal how we stand now. If you search the north road, I and a few others will see to the west.” She turned to Rhonin. “I anticipate we will be back soon.”
“I would tell you to be safe, my love, but that would be redundant,” said Rhonin. Both appeared exhausted. Vereesa was spattered with blood that was, thankfully, not her own, and Rhonin looked as if a good stiff breeze would blow him over. Still, they knew their duties and would never shirk them.
She slipped into his arms and they kissed with the familiarity of lovers and companions who knew each other’s body well. The kiss was sweet, but they did not linger.
“Rest, if you can,” Vereesa urged. Rhonin snorted. She grinned. “I said, if you can.”
“I’ll try. But there are many wounded, and even those of us who can’t conjure a healing spell to save our souls can wrap bandages.”
“This is why I love you so,” she murmured. “I will be back soon, my love.” Shandris and her Sentinels had already departed through the north gate. Vereesa’s warriors were mounted and waiting as she hastened to a fresh horse, leaping atop it with lithe grace. She did not look back as they rode out the west gate. Rhonin didn’t expect her to. His wife had made her farewells and was on to her duty, as he should be on to his.
Jaina’s first duty in those early moments, when it sank in that, yes, they had won, was to care for her people. Such was always her first responsibility. She spoke briefly to Jonathan, who updated her on the status of their defenses. He assured her that the marines of the entire Seventh Fleet would be coming ashore and offering their aid to the injured, and that it was the gryphon roosts and other aerial defenses that had taken the most damage.
“Do you think they will return?” she asked.
“Doubtful. They suffered many casualties and will need time to regroup. Besides, we’ve got a dragon if they send more than ground troops.”
Jaina had to smile at that. “Then let’s get to helping those who need it,” she said. A quick look around assured her that the other generals were taking charge of the injured as well. Hunters set their pets to sniffing out still-living bodies in the rubble, and even as Jaina watched, two people were pulled out from beneath piles of stone and wood. They were wounded but smiling—and alive.