She had been looking away, to the horizon, as he had been. Now she turned her face to his. The slanting afternoon light caught the strong planes of her brown, so very orcish face. And Thrall, used to finding harmony and pleasing beauty in the faces of human woman, as he had grown up among that race, was suddenly struck by hers.
"It was starting to happen before the vision quest," she said quietly. 'You had already begun to change my mind. You did not rise to the bait to be hooked like a fish. Neither did you use your influence with the Greatmother to replace me as your teacher. And the more I watched and listened to you, the more I realized… this truly does matter to you.
"I walked with you, and saw how you lived the elements, like a true shaman does. I saw, and I shared, your pain, and joy. I watched you with Taretha, with Drek'Thar, with Cairne and Jaina. You live what you believe, even if you didn't understand it until you underwent the vision quest. You are not a power - hungry child seeking a new, better challenge. You are striving to do what is best for your people—all of them. Not just ore, or Horde, but you even want what is best for your rivals. You want," she said, and placed a brown hand flat on the earth in a loving gesture, "what is best for your world."
"I am not sure that what I have done is best for it," Thrall admitted quietly. "If I had stayed—"
"Then you would not have learned what you have."
"Cairne would be alive. And so would the tauren who lived in Thunder Bluff and—"
Her hand shot out and gripped his arm, the nails digging angrily into the flesh. "What you have learned could save everything. Everything!"
"Or nothing," Thrall said. He did not pull his arm back, instead watched as blood began to seep from beneath her nails.
'You chose possibility over certainty. The possibility of success over certain defeat. If you had done nothing, then you would not have been a warchief. You would have been a coward, unworthy of such an honor." Her face hardened slightly. "But if you want to wallow? Cry. 'Poor Go'el, woe is me'? Then by all means do so. But you will have to do it without me."
She began to rise. Thrall caught her wrist, and she glared at him.
"What did you mean?"
"I meant, if you choose the path of self - pity over action, that you would prove my change of heart to be wrong. And I would not go back to Azeroth with you."
He tightened his grip on her wrist. 'You… were planning on returning with me? Why?"
Emotions flitted across her face, and finally Aggra blurted, "Because, Go'el, I found that I did not wish to be apart from you. But it seems I was wrong, because you are not what I thought you were. I will not go with one who - "
He pulled her down into his arms and crushed her to him. "I would have you come with me. Walk with me wherever this path may take us. I have grown used to your voice letting me know when I am wrong, and… I like to hear it when you speak gently. It would pain me, to not have you near. Will you come? Be at my side?"
"To—advise you?"
He nodded, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "To be my wisdom, as Air, my steadiness, as Earth…" He took a deep breath. "And my passion and my heart, as Fire and Water. And if you would have it so, I would be these things to you."
He felt her trembling in his embrace: she, Aggra, strong and courageous. She pulled back a little and laid her hand on his chest, her eyes searching his. "Go'el, as long as you have this great heart to lead—and to love—then know that I will go with you to the ends of any world and beyond."
He placed a hand on her cheek, green skin against brown, then leaned forward slowly to rest his forehead gently against hers.
Thirty two
The funereal cloth in which High Chieftain Cairne Bloodhoof had been lovingly wrapped was exquisite. It had been woven in the hues of the Earth Mother—tans and browns and greens.
As was traditional among the tauren, the dead were cremated with ceremony and ritual. The bodies were placed atop a pyre, and a raging fire was lit beneath them. The ashes would fall to the earth; the smoke would rise to the sky. Earth Mother and Sky Father would thus both welcome the honored dead, and An'she and Mu'sha would witness their passing.
Thrall wore, as he almost always did, the armor that the late Orgrim Doomhammer had bequeathed to him. Its weight hindered him somewhat, and Thrall was forced to climb slowly atop a ridge so he could be on the same level as the body and look at what remained of Cairne with vision made blurry because of tears.
Thrall had rushed back to Azeroth. He and Aggra had met briefly with Baine, and Thrall had requested some time alone with Cairne. The request had been granted. Later there would be long conversations, and planning, and preparations. But for now Thrall sat near his old friend for a long time, while the sun made its languid path across the blue sky of Mulgore. Finally Thrall took a deep breath and said quietly, "Cairne, my old friend… are you still here?"
Both tauren and orcs believed that the spirits of the beloved dead sometimes spoke with those they had loved in life. They imparted warnings, or advice, or simply blessings.
Thrall would have been grateful for any of these.
But his words were taken by the soft, fragrant breeze and borne away, and nothing, no one, stirred to answer him. Thrall lowered his head for a moment.
"And so I truly am alone, and you truly have departed, my old friend," he said. "And so I cannot ask your advice, or your forgiveness, as I should have been able to."
Only the soft sigh of the wind answered him.
"We parted in anger, you and I. Two who should never be angry at one another, two who should have been old enough to know that this is a bad way to part. I was frustrated in my inability to solve my own challenges, and I turned from you when you spoke wisdom. Never had I done so before, and now see what has happened. You lie here, slain by treachery, and I cannot look you in the eye and tell you how my heart is breaking at this sight."
His voice, too, was breaking, and he took a moment to regain his composure, although there was no one here to see him save the birds and beasts of the land. The armor felt heavy and hot on him.
'Your son… Cairne, I would say to you, you would be so proud of Baine, except that I already knew how proud you were of him. He is truly your son, and will carry the legacy of all you fought for to another generation. He did not let his pain rule his head. He has kept your people safe, at the cost of his own burning desire. The tauren are at peace once again, which I know was all you ever wanted for them. Even in the depths of horror, such as that dreadful, dark night—even then, your people, and the spirit of the Horde survived.
"The Grimtotem are now open enemies, instead of deceivers you held to your heart, who took your trust and still coldly planned to strike. The tauren will not be taken unawares by them again—ever. As for Garrosh… I truly believe that he did not know of Magatha's treachery. He's many things, but a deceitful, scheming murderer is not one of them. He'd want to know he'd won fairly, so he could legitimately revel in the honor. He…"
His voice trailed off. Thrall was terribly distraught at the murder of his friend and the slaughter that had followed Cairne's death. He was glad the tauren were again at peace, under such a fine leader as Baine. But other than that…
"Cairne," he said slowly, "I built this Horde. I inspired them, gave them purpose, direction. And yet… it seems as though this duty, this purpose… it is no longer the one that calls to me. How can I lead them well when my focus is elsewhere?"
His instincts, once so certain, were no longer as sharp as they once were. He buried his face in his hands, the black armor creaking with the gesture. He felt—lost. Torn. He again saw himself standing in the mist of the vision quest, his armor cracking and falling off him as he stood in the grip of fear and helplessness. He realized with a jolt that if he continued to lead them thusly, with his mind and heart and attention elsewhere, that he would eventually take the Horde down the path of civil war. Whatever his disagreement with Garrosh about what had happened in his absence, it had been he who had appointed young Hellscream acting warchief. It was his