Anduin realized his father had been repeating his name. He looked over at Varian unsteadily, overwhelmed with shock and disillusionment. “Anduin,” Varian said for perhaps the third time. “Come on. Go’el wants to talk to us and I think I know why.”
Go’el stood near the entrance. As he met Anduin’s gaze, he jerked his head slightly toward the corridor that led outside. Anduin nodded, licking his lips and shaking his head as he and Varian threaded their way to the stairs. On the floor below, Garrosh continued. Anduin clenched his jaw. How could he have believed Garrosh could change?
“The only ‘atrocities’ I regret are the ones I did not perform!” the orc shouted, grinning ferociously at the turmoil his words had caused. “The only thing that preys on me is that I was stopped before I could see the true Horde live again!”
Anduin and his father went to one of the doors, where Go’el was awaiting them. “Chromie?” asked Varian.
“Chromie,” confirmed Go’el.
“What about her?” asked Anduin.
Go’el turned to him. “She helped Tyrande with the Accuser’s case, and yet she’s not here?”
“Something must be wrong,” Varian said.
“I can go try to find her,” Anduin offered at once. “I know this place pretty well after so much time.” His voice was bitter. He did want to help, but more than that, he didn’t think he could stand listening to Garrosh a moment longer.
Anduin ran lightly down the stairs to Garrosh’s cell area, thinking he would ask the Chu brothers if they had seen Chromie, and tell them to be on the alert if they had not. He rounded the corner and skidded to a stop.
The two pandaren lay limply on the floor, looking like black-and-white sacks of grain someone had carelessly tossed aside. The chains that hitherto had been used to bind Garrosh were now fastened securely around their stout bodies, and gags had been thrust between their jaws.
“Oh, no,” Anduin moaned, hastening to them. Both of the brothers had suffered blows to the head, and their fur was sticky with blood, but they yet breathed. Anduin placed a hand on Li’s heart and murmured a prayer to the Light. A soft yellow glow enveloped his hand, making it feel warm and tingly. The Light’s blessing flowed through him, cleansing him like a gentle fall of rain, spreading from him to Li. The pandaren opened his eyes as Anduin removed the gag.
“Two . . . females,” Li muttered as Anduin turned to Lo Chu and prayed to the Light to heal the other twin. “They had crossbows—they should not have, but they did.” Beneath Anduin’s hands, the huge lump on Lo’s skull receded and he, too, blinked to consciousness. Anduin tugged off that gag as well.
“If they had crossbows, you are lucky to still be alive,” said Anduin, wondering who these warrior females were and why they had come. “Let me get you out of these chains.” He knew that Lo Chu carried the keys to both the chains and the door in the ever-present pouch that hung at his side. Anduin reached his hand in for them, then frowned. “Lo, where are the keys?”
“The females must have stolen them!” Lo squirmed in impotent irritation.
“Did you recognize them?” asked the prince. Both brothers shook their heads. “But . . . this doesn’t make sense. Garrosh was already out of the cell. Why would they want to—” He jumped up and banged on the closed door. “Chromie?”
He thought he heard something and pressed his ear to the door, concentrating. “Anduin!” It was faint, but the high-pitched, gnomish voice belonged to Chromie. He sagged in relief.
“Someone tied up Lo and Li and stole the keys, but we’ll get you out!” Anduin reassured her, yelling in order for Chromie to hear him. “Don’t worry. What happened?”
“It was Kairoz!”
“What?” Anduin’s jaw dropped.
“Please, just listen; we don’t have much time! I think he’s going to do something with the Vision of Time. I caught him tinkering with it and asked him why, and he made some excuse about ‘shutting it down.’ I started questioning him, and then—then I woke up locked in here. You have to stop him from doing whatever he’s planning! Please, you have to hurry!”
“Go!” shouted Li.
“We will meditate and cultivate patience,” added Lo.
“That will serve you well,” came a smooth, silky voice. “Li in particular could use it.”
Anduin whirled, sickened as his heart contracted at yet another betrayal on this dismal day. “Two females with crossbows,” he said, bitterly. “One orc, one human, weren’t they, Li? I should have known.”
“Perhaps you should have, but it is not yet within you to suspect treachery, Anduin Wrynn,” said Wrathion with a sad smile. “If it is any consolation at all, I am deeply sorry for what I now must do.”
Anduin laughed scornfully. “Sure you are.”
The Black Prince shrugged. “Believe what you will, but it is the truth. We are friends, you and I.”
“Friends? Friends don’t kill each other!”
The dragon’s glowing eyes widened and he looked almost hurt. “Why would I do that? Look at the Chu brothers. They are alive, though admittedly with rather terrible headaches, and I care far less about them than I do you.”
“Wrathion, what is going on here? What are you doing?”
The young black dragon sighed. “You once asked me to watch and listen, and to make up my mind as to what is best for Azeroth. I have done exactly as you bid. You are the heir to the throne of Stormwind. You have a duty—to keep your kingdom safe. You do what you believe is best for it and its people. As the last black dragon, the former charge of my flight—to keep Azeroth safe—falls solely to me. I must honor that charge.”
“Don’t listen to him, Anduin!” cried Chromie.
Anduin gestured toward the still-chained pandaren. “This is keeping Azeroth safe?”
“In this case, I assure you, the end does justify the means. It is my deep hope that one day you will understand. And on that day, you and I will face a terrible enemy. Perhaps we shall even do so as brothers.”
Desperately, Anduin reached out his hand. “You don’t have to do it this way. Tell me what’s going on. We can work together. We can find some way to—”
“Farewell for now, young prince,” said Wrathion. He lifted a hand, and Anduin knew no more.
35
“Nothing—nothing in this world can stop me!” Garrosh roared, raising his still-bound fists and shaking them in a gesture of triumph.
At that moment, Jaina realized what had been bothering her. Everyone was upset—Garrosh, Taran Zhu, the guards, the spectators. But Kairoz simply stood by the table, a slight smile playing about his handsome face. From one heartbeat to the next, everything clicked into place. Even as Jaina drew breath to shout a warning to Taran Zhu, the bronze dragon languidly reached out an elegant hand and, eyes still on the ranting Garrosh, pushed the Vision of Time just far enough off the table.
“No!” Jaina cried out, her voice lost in the furor as, almost in slow motion, she watched the Vision of Time topple to the unforgiving stone. As it fell, turning end over end, the sands inside began to glow—and both decorative, tiny metal dragons affixed to the hourglass woke up, stretched their wings, and flew.
It crashed with a discordant yet musical sound, the globes shattering and the sand they contained spilling outward—and upward. An almost blinding storm of energy rose up, a tornado of golden, whirling light. The sounds of the crowd turned to shrieks of terror instead of anger, and Jaina felt a change in the air—the frisson of magic. The dampening field that had blanketed the temple was gone. The only magic that had been excepted was that of the bronze dragons—magic that now eliminated the field. Before Jaina’s numbed gaze, an enormous slice in time and space yawned open. Garrosh and Kairoz seemed to drop straight through the floor—and other beings surged out of it.