Her voice rose on the last word, and she realized she’d clenched her fists. It would be more than just, to use the Focusing Iris on Garrosh and his beloved Orgrimmar. “We can wipe out every one of those green-skinned sons of—”
“Jaina!” The word was a pained, sharp exclamation from Anduin. Surprised, Jaina fell silent.
“What happened in Theramore was more than a tragedy,” Varian said, turning Jaina gently to regard him. “It was an irreparable loss, and a vile and cowardly act. But we mustn’t compound the loss by losing more Alliance soldiers needlessly.”
“There could even be some in the Horde who disagree with what happened,” Anduin said. “The tauren, for instance. And even most orcs prize honor.”
Jaina shook her head. “No. Not anymore. It’s too late for that, Anduin. Far too late. There’s no going back from what they’ve done. You didn’t see what—” Her voice caught and she struggled to speak for a moment. “We must retaliate. And we can’t wait. Who knows what atrocity Garrosh and the Horde will perpetrate if we do? We can’t have another Theramore, Varian! Don’t you see?”
“We will fight them, don’t worry—but we’ll do so on our terms.”
She jerked free from his hands on her arms and stepped back. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, Varian Wrynn, but you’ve turned into a coward. And you, Anduin, I am sorry for my part in keeping you a gullible child. There’s no hope for peace; there’s no time for strategy. I have their ruination in my grasp. You’re a fool for not seizing the chance!”
They spoke her name at once, father and son, so different but so oddly similar in how they stepped forward imploringly.
She turned her back on both of them.
21
It was with a wounded body and a heavy heart that Kalecgos returned to Northrend and the Nexus. He had, despite Jaina’s words, followed her. Partially because he feared for her safety and her state of mind, and also because he sensed that the Focusing Iris was still in Theramore. It took him time—he had to fly, bearing not-insignificant injuries from the battle, and she had teleported.
He had beheld the huge crater and what the mana bomb had left of Theramore. It was sickeningly little. But the Focusing Iris was nowhere to be found. Someone had to have found it. He suspected Garrosh; the lives of a few loyal subjects of the Horde were nothing compared to the power of the Focusing Iris. Of course he would send a party to retrieve it.
Thus he had left Kalimdor, flying bleakly and laboriously northward with nothing to show for his efforts on the blues’ behalf other than a dead city that was mute testimony to his failure. He had, unexpectedly but certainly, fallen in love. Now she, too, had been broken because of what he had done—or failed to do. Part of him simply wanted to head in a random direction and just keep going. But Kalecgos could not do that. The blue dragons had put their faith in him. He had to tell them what had transpired and determine what course they wished him to take now.
Kirygosa met him as he approached from the south. She darted around him for a moment, showing her pleasure at his return, then settled in to fly beside him the rest of the way to the Nexus.
“You are wounded,” she said worriedly. Many scales had been ripped from Kalecgos’s azure form, and the skin beneath bore ugly bruises. He could fly still but ached with every wing beat.
“It is a little hurt,” he said.
“It is not,” she replied. “What has happened? We sensed something terrible… and you do not have the Focusing Iris.”
“It is a story I wish to have to tell but once,” he said, his voice revealing the deep pain of his heart. “Will you gather the flight, dearest Kiry?”
For answer, she dipped beneath him, nuzzling his head with her own, then flew off to obey. They awaited him, and he saw with renewed bleakness that their numbers had dwindled even further since his departure. He was pleased to see that Narygos, Teralygos, Banagos, and Alagosa had remained.
He landed among them, retaining his dragon form, and looked about. “I have returned, but the news I bear is grim.” They stood quietly as he spoke, telling them of the cooperation he’d had from Rhonin and the Kirin Tor, from Jaina. Of his difficulty in pinning down the location of the Focusing Iris. And finally, keeping his voice emotionless because he could not bear to feel it all again, of the Horde using their artifact against the Alliance with so devastating an effect.
They listened in silence. No one asked questions. No one interrupted. He had expected anger, but instead they seemed to grow more melancholy than furious at the thought that their magic, their Focusing Iris, had been used to wreak such malicious destruction. It was as if something had broken inside each of them. Kalec understood that. It was a reflection of his own torment.
No one spoke for a long time. Then Teralygos lifted his head and regarded Kalecgos sadly. “We have failed,” he said. “Our charge has ever been to ensure that magic was used wisely. To manage it. And look how badly we have executed that duty.”
“The failure is mine, Teralygos,” Kalec said. “I was the Aspect. I could sense the Focusing Iris, but I failed to locate it in time.”
“It was stolen from all of us, not only you, Kalecgos. We all must shoulder the responsibility for this abhorrent event.”
“I am your leader, as long as you will have me,” Kalec said, though the words were like ash in his mouth as he spoke them. “I will do all that is in my power to recover it.” Even though it has gone missing—again. If only I had been able to destroy it when the sky galleon still bore it!
“You are as lost as you were before this started,” said Alagosa. There was only sorrow in her voice, not censure, but even so, the words stung. She was right.
“It was in Theramore,” Kalec said. “It was not destroyed in the attack. Someone has spirited it away again, and I am certain that it is the Horde.”
“I am not. I believe that it is in the possession of Jaina Proudmoore. You said she reached Theramore before you, and by the time you arrived, the Focusing Iris was gone.”
It was not what was said that surprised Kalec so much as who had said it. The accusation, spoken in gentle tones but no less stunning for that, came from Kirygosa. She had lingered in the back, listening quietly, but now she moved forward.
“Jaina helped me to find it,” Kalec retorted defensively. “She knew even before the—even before, what kind of havoc it could wreak. Why would she willingly take it without telling me?”
“Perhaps because she doesn’t trust you to keep it safe,” said Kiry. Again, there was no attack in her voice or mien, but Kalec still felt wounded. “Or perhaps because she plans to use it against the Horde.”
“Jaina would never—”
“You do not know what she would and would not do,” said Kirygosa. “She is human, Kalec, and you are not. Her kingdom has been removed from the map as surely as if it had been blotted out with ink. She is a powerful mage, and the Focusing Iris—the very instrument of death to her people—was within her grasp. We need to consider this a possibility and prepare for it. If she has it, we must find out—and take it back. Whatever the cost. It is our artifact, and much of that blood is on our heads. We must not allow it to be used so again.”
Her logic was unassailable. Kalec recalled how furious and grief-stricken Jaina had been when she teleported away from him. Too, she had been visibly affected by the arcane magic from the blast. It had whitened her hair; caused her eyes to glow—if it had done this to her body, what might it have done to her mind?
“I will find the Focusing Iris,” he said heavily. “Whoever has it—Garrosh or Jaina.”
Kiry hesitated now, glancing at Teralygos. “Perhaps it would be best if a party joined you in your search.”
Kalec bit back an angry retort. Kiry had ever been a good friend; she was his sister of the spirit, although they were not clutch mates. She did not cast aspersions on Jaina to hurt him; she did so because she was worried. Worried that he might be too affected by his feelings for Jaina Proudmoore to complete his duty to his flight, and knowing him well enough to understand that if Kiry was right, Kalec would never forgive himself if something went wrong.