Graddock held up his hand and brought it down once, twice, three times.
The assassins sprang.
Varian wasn't sure how they communicated, but it was almost as if the attack was choreographed. Each dwarf had a black - leather - clad killer atop him before he could do more than gasp in surprise. Varian had charged forward, swords at the ready, biting back a yell, but by the time he was there, the five had been quickly and quietly killed. One had a knife in his eye. Another's neck had been snapped. A third's face was swollen in reaction to a swift - acting poison, froth still dripping from his mouth. A gnome male named Brink, balding and oddly dangerous looking for one of his race, and a human female now rose, cleaning their blades emotionlessly and efficiently, from the final two kills.
They moved on to the next group. They were closing in on Ironforge.
Thirty one
Anduin!" Rohan's voice was filled with warmth and surprise as he peered at the boy, who had suddenly appeared in the Hall of Mysteries. "We'd heard ye escaped. Why in th' world have ye come back here?"
Anduin stepped out from the portal and quickly ducked into a corner of the hall. Rohan followed, speaking quietly and urgently.
"Moira's on th' warpath for ye. She's searched here twice already an' has got her lackeys scouring every inch of Ironforge. She's nae said anything, o' course, but we can tell who she's looking for."
"I had to come back," Anduin said, keeping his voice low. "My father is mounting an attack to sneak into Ironforge, and I've got to stop him. He plans to kill Moira. He thinks she's a usurper."
Rohan's white brows drew together in a frown. "But she's not. She's a lousy queen, that's fer sure, an' she's thrown some good people in jail. But she is the rightful heir, and so is the wee bairn after her."
"Exactly," Anduin said, grateful that Rohan understood what he was getting at. "What she's doing is wrong. I of all people can see that. She was trying to keep me prisoner. She was never intending to let me go. But that doesn't mean my father can just murder her. It's not his place, and he will accomplish nothing other than dwarven outrage and another civil war. Besides, some of what she wants to do is the right thing."
"How did ye learn of this? Are ye certain yer information is accurate?"
Anduin didn't want to implicate Jaina, so he just nodded. "As the Light guides me, Father Rohan, I trust that what I have been told is true."
"Well, ye are a prince, not a humble priest like meself, so if you think it is the truth, then I do, too. Andye're right. Murderin' our leaders is nae the right thing t' do… and there are folks that like some o' what she's been saving. I'll help ye, lad. What do ye need of me?"
Anduin realized he hadn't thought that far ahead. "Urn," he began, "I know my father's coming via the Deeprun Tram tunnel. I don't know when he's supposed to get here. We should try to intercept him."
"Hm," said Rohan, "like many things, easier said than done. Ye're a lad yet, but ye're no dwarf - sized. And th' Dark Irons are on the lookout for ye."
"We'll just have to be careful," Anduin said. "And I'll have to stoop. Come on!"
The eighteen assassins and the king of Stormwind scrambled out of the Deeprun Tram track and onto the platform. They were met by several Dark Iron dwarves. It was a one - sided fight, and the SI:7 team quickly and ruthlessly dispatched Moira's guards. The fight had attracted some attention, and a little crowd of mostly gnomes now stared at the men and women in masks and black leather, unsure if they were rescuers or new foes.
"Dinna worry," Graddock reassured them. "We've come fer Moira and her people, not the good folk of Ironforge."
The gnomes, who had been clustered together, gave a cheer.
They hurried on, heading toward the Hall of Explorers, which would be quiet at this time of night. From there, it was a straight shot across the Great Forge to the High Seat. The gnome named Brink scouted ahead and reported back.
"Twenty - three," he said in a gravelly voice. "Ten are Dark Iron guards."
"Only ten? I expected more," Graddock said. "Let's go."
In the end Anduin did not have to stoop. One of the priestesses was an alchemist and had readily agreed to mix up an invisibility potion. "It will nae last very long," she cautioned. "An' it tastes nasty tae boot."
"I can run pretty fast," Anduin assured her, taking the small vial. He uncorked it and coughed at the fumes. The priestess was right—it certainly smelled nasty.
"Bottoms up," he said and lifted it to his lips.
"Hold a moment, lad," Rohan said. "There's summat going on out there…."
There was a commotion out in the main area. Various guards were running about, looking grimmer than usual.
"Och, I hope ye've not been spotted," Rohan said quietly. One of the guards started jogging toward the Hall of Mysteries, and Anduin crouched back in the shadows, prepared to chug the potion, if need be.
"Healers! Come quickly, ye're needed!"
"What is it?" Rohan said, giving a fairly good impression of someone who had just been roused from sleep.
"There's been fighting at the Deeprun Tram," the Dark Iron guard said.
"Really?" Rohan kept his voice pitched loud for Anduin's benefit. "How many? And is th' site contained?"
"About ten, and nay, there seems to be fighting in th' Great Forge area, too. Bring all yer priests! Now!"
Rohan cast a quick, apologetic glance over his shoulder, then gathered his supplies and hurried off along with the other priests. Anduin was on his own.
"Too late," he murmured to himself. If Varian and the team of assassins were already at the forge—
His mouth set in a grim line, then he lifted the potion to his lips and gulped it down, grimacing at the taste.
Then Anduin Wrynn ran as fast as his legs could cam' him toward the High Seat, Moira… and his father.
The first few guards were dispatched quietly. The group skidded to a halt and caught their breaths, melding with the shadows. Right across the forge was the High Seat… and there were several Dark Irons in the way.
"We'll split into two groups. You," and Graddock pointed to nine of his followers, "stay wi’ me. We'll tackle th' guards at th' forge. The rest of ye, go wi' Varian. Get him tae Moira, no matter the cost. Is that clear?"
They all nodded. Despite the odds that stared them in the face, none of them looked particularly distressed. As Varian watched, Brink even yawned and stretched. He supposed this was all in a day's work for them, just as slaughtering foes twice his size had been his "job" as a gladiator.
"All right, then. Let's be about it."
And with no further warning, the first group moved forward. Varian, whose eyes had gotten used to seeing them after the hours they had spent together this night, blinked as they became indistinguishable from the shadows. And then the cries started as the assassins attacked—cutting throats, picking up the startled dwarves and hurling them into the molten liquid pools of the forge.
"Go, go!" It was Brink, elbowing Varian in the thigh. He needed no further urging. His group began to run at full speed along the length of the Great Forge. The Dark Iron guards stationed there met them halfway, roaring challenges. Pleased to finally be in an open, one - on - one swordfight after sneaking around all night, Varian shouted a battle cry and fell eagerly on the first one. Swords clashed against axe blade and shield, striking sparks in the dim light. The Dark Iron was good, Varian had to give him that. He managed to block Varian's blows fully four times before the king dodged a counterattack and stabbed the dwarf through the gap in his armor between arm and breastplate.
He whirled, sweeping one sword parallel to the ground, biting through the armor of another guard. This one cried out in pain, falling to his knees. Varian kicked him in the face, then severed his head from his shoulders with the second sword. He didn't even see the head strike the ground, his eyes searching for where the next attack would be.