The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm wowct-1

by Christie Golden

  So…no. I will not be sending any truehearted orcs to fight alongside your treacherous, belly - crawling tribe. Your victory or your defeat is in the hands of your Earth Mother now. Either way, I look forward to hearing of your demise.

  You are on your own, Magatha, as friendless and disliked as you have ever been. Perhaps more. Enjoy your loneliness.

  Her hand had begun to shake halfway through the reading, crushing part of the letter. When she had finished, she threw her head back in an angry bellow and thrust her hand in front of her. A single bolt of lightning speared down from the sky, blasting through the thatched roof to strike the courier dead.

  The acrid smell of burning flesh filled the room. Everyone stared for a moment at the green body with the charred, black chest, then two Bluff watchers moved, without needing to be told, to pick up the corpse and bear it Magatha was breathing heavily, snorting in fury, her fists clenched.

  "Elder Crone?" Rahauro's voice was tentative, cautious. Seldom had he seen his mistress so angry.

  With an effort, Magatha composed herself. "It seems that Garrosh Hellscream refuses the Grimtotem any aid whatsoever." She would not shame her tribemates with the blistering insults with which Garrosh had freely peppered his missive.

  "We are on our own, then?" Rahauro looked slightly worried.

  "We are, as we always have been. And always we have endured. Do not worry, Rahauro. I planned for this eventuality as well."

  In actuality, she had not. She had been convinced that the young Hellscream would continue to be easy to play. This stupid "honor" thing that the ores—and, truth be told, her own race—were so obsessed with had been a serpent lurking in the grass, ready to bite her when she least suspected it. It was unfortunate that the Kor'kron had been swift to recover Gorehowl before she had had a chance to clean the poison off herself.

  Still, all that was needed was to destroy Baine Bloodhoof and reestablish order in Mulgore. The tauren would quiet down and accept her as their new leader. And then, from a place of strength, she would see if Garrosh Hellscream might be willing to change his mind.

  In the meantime, she would need to prepare for the pretender's inevitable attack.

  There was a cool marine breeze circulating through the room at the top of Jazzik's General Goods. The tauren who paced there nervously, his black coat and white markings clearly identifying him as a Grimtotem, was glad of it, although the openness bothered him. Still, this was where he had been told to come.

  "Heya, you made it, good," came a voice behind him. The tauren turned and nodded as Gazlowe, the goblin leader of Ratchet, climbed the stairs and gave him a wave. "Don't worry. This is my town. Long as you're here, you're safe. I understand your boss has a proposition for me."

  The Grimtotem nodded. "Indeed."

  Gazlowe indicated a table and two chairs. The tauren sat down, carefully at first, then a little bit more confidently as he realized the chair would support his much greater weight.

  "We need several items."

  Gazlowe fished out a pipe from his jacket pocket and a small pouch of herbs. He filled it as they spoke. "I can get you most anything, but not for free. Nothing personal, just business, you know?"

  The tauren nodded. "I am prepared to pay for your services. Here is our list." He shoved a small, rolled - up parchment across the table at the goblin. Gazlowe wasn't about to be rushed, though, and finished tamping down the herbs and lighting the pipe before he reached out a green hand and accepted the list. His eyes widened.

  "How many bombs?"

  "You can read, friend goblin."

  "I thought there was an extra zero. Or maybe two." His mouth curled around the stem of the pipe. "My, my. Looks like I might be able to buy myself an additional vessel. Maybe an additional town." His eyes flitted to the Grimtotem's. 'You're sure you can pay?"

  For answer, the tauren untied a sack from his belt. It was larger than his mammoth fist and made a pleasant clinking sound as it landed on the table. "Count it all, if you like. I was told you charged a fair rate."

  "Even a fair rate would be a small fortune," Gazlowe said. He opened the pouch. The afternoon sunlight caught the glint of gold. "Holy smoke."

  "Can you get me all the items on the list?"

  Gazlowe scratched his head, clearly torn between an honest response and the one he wanted to give. "Maybe," he said after a moment. He took a pull on his pipe and let the smoke trickle out of his large, hooked nose.

  "Maybe."

  "Within a few days."

  Gazlowe coughed, smoke coming from his mouth in short billows. "What?"

  The Grimtotem pulled out a second pouch, not as large as the first, but still quite respectable. "My… boss understands that one needs to pay extra for rush jobs."

  The goblin whistled softly. "Your boss is smart," he said. He eyed the list again and sighed. "It's going to be tough, but—yeah. Yeah, I can get all this for you." He hesitated. The Grimtotem sat patiently. A private war was clearly going on inside the goblin's head.

  With a sigh that was low and pained, Gazlowe pulled out a fistful of coins from the second pouch, then shoved the rest back at the tauren. The Grimtotem looked up at him, confused. A goblin, not taking money freely "Listen," Gazlowe said. "Don't spread this around, but… I, uh… support what you are trying to do."

  The tauren blinked. "I… am glad."

  Gazlowe nodded, then rose. "I'll have them for you in four days. No sooner."

  "That is acceptable." The tauren rose, too, and turned to leave.

  "Hey, Grandpa?"

  The Grimtotem turned.

  "Tell Baine I always liked his dad."

  Stormsong Grimtotem smiled softly. "I will."

  The army was on the move.

  Although Baine was secure in his decision to not seek revenge against Garrosh Hellscream, he was not about to ask that rash orc for aid. That meant that he was on his own. Fortunately, the story of Magatha's treachery was beginning to spread. Camp Mojache had not fallen to the Grimtotem yet, but everyone there was desperately fighting. They could spare no reinforcements. But Freewind Post had managed to rebuff an assault and stayed loyal to the Bloodhoof line. Everyone there who could fight had volunteered the first night that Baine had asked for sanctuary. He had two dozen healthy, fit warriors, and others who were desperately in need of training but whose enthusiasm and passion could not be denied. Cairne had been well loved and his son respected and honored. There was no question that any tauren who was not a Grimtotem—or living in fear of them—would rally to Baine's side.

  He wore Fearbreaker proudly, although he did not explain who had given it to him. He had no wish to jeopardize Anduin in any way. The weapon had not seen the light of day for decades, perhaps centuries. It would not be noted as a distinctively dwarven weapon although it was small. Nearly every weapon was small to a tauren. When asked, he merely replied, "This was given to me by a friend, as a gesture of faith in me and my cause." That explanation seemed enough to satisfy most.

  They were marching up the Gold Road toward Camp Taurajo. Word had come from Sun Rock Retreat. They had repulsed an attack and were sending troops to meet him there. Baine marched openly, sending a strong message to any Grimtotem spies that might be observing that he and his supporters were not afraid. Indeed, their numbers swelled as they left the stagnant marshes of Dustwallow behind and entered the dry lands of the

  More than tauren had come to join their cause. There were several trolls among the ranks, a few orcs, and even one or two Forsaken or sin'dorei. The Forsaken who had come had expressed owing a debt to the tauren who were, after all, the ones who had pushed to allow them into the Horde at all. Most of the rest were mercenaries; however, thanks to Jaina, who had given him a considerable amount in untraceable gold, he was able to hire them. Their skills would, Baine was certain, prove vital.

  The shape of a kodo appeared on the road, a small dot, and as it drew closer, Baine recognized its passenger as Stormsong. He drew his large mount alongside Baine, who we
nt on hoof.

  "Good news?" asked Baine.

  "As good as possible," Stormsong said. "Gazlowe agreed to provide all we need in four days. And he did not even accept the full amount. He said to tell you he always admired Cairne and supported our cause."

  "Really?" Baine glanced up at him, surprised. "A true declaration of loyalty from a goblin. I am pleased."

  Hamuul had been talking with his fellow druids. Now he stepped forward. "As you predicted, they know we are coming. We have spies who inform us that Thunder Bluff is preparing for a siege. The good news is, they are gathering all their resources and warriors there and not attacking us on the road."

  Baine nodded. "They think Thunder Bluff impossible to claim and that any challenge on the road will be a waste of Grimtotem lives."

  Stormsong snorted. "You should have seen Gazlowe's face when he read the list. The matriarch and her followers will be in for a very great surprise."

  The reinforcements from Sun Rock Retreat were not numerous, but they were apparently very swift. They were already waiting for Baine when he approached the path that led westward from the Southern Gold Road toward Mulgore. His heart lifted as a cry of welcome went up, and he could make out the chanting: "Baine! Baine! Baine!"

  "Listen to them," Hamuul said to him quietly. 'You bring them hope. Your plan is audacious and risky." he admitted, "but that is precisely why I believe it will succeed. You have your father's steadiness and your own imagination, Baine Bloodhoof, and you will be victorious in this battle."

  "I pray you are right," Baine said. "If we fail, I tremble for the fate of our people."

  Thunder Bluff, once filled with the sounds of raucous celebration, was now silent. The first victory, won by stealth in the night, had been fairly easy, but the Grimtotem now were preparing to fend off an army headed by a very popular leader, not slaughtering slumbering victims. Thunder Bluff was an excellent place for defense, and they could handle a long siege. Still, Magatha was not looking forward to it.

  It had been foolish for Baine to be so open about his approach. Perhaps it had won him a few more followers, but it had also given his enemy time to prepare. And Magatha had not wasted the opportunity.

  Scaling Thunder Bluff was not impossible, but it was very difficult, especially for tauren and even more so if said climbers were expected. The lifts were key—and if they were rigged to explode at the push of a button, as the engineers of the tribe were working on doing, it would be a challenge for Baine's troops to do anything other than camp at the base and wait it out. And if things were timed correctly, the explosion might also take several of Baine's followers with it. Magical methods of infiltration, such as portals, were already warded against.

  And it would be a long wait. The several days' notice that Baine had given them had enabled the Grimtotem to bring in a great quantity of food and other supplies. She had recalled all her people from Bloodhoof Village and the unsuccessful Sun Rock Retreat attack to defend this, the capital. Yes, the more Magatha thought about it, the calmer she grew. Baine would be defeated, as his father had been, and her stranglehold on the tauren would be certain.

  She drifted to sleep in the lodge that had belonged to Cairne Bloodhoof. Her pleasant dreams were interrupted by a sudden flash of brilliant light and a roll of answering thunder that shook the very earth. Rain sluiced down on the lodge as Magatha bolted upright, snorting. Another blinding flash of lighting. A shaman and a tauren, Magatha was no stranger to storms. But this one had a powerful fierceness to it. She sniffed and listened, senses alert. Perhaps she was imagining things. Still, she had not lived this long by ignoring her instincts, and so she threw on some robes and a cape to guard against the torrential downpour.

  Magatha squinted as rain pelted her face, peering upward. The sky was black and gray, with thunderclouds blotting out the stars. Nothing unusual. This place was called Thunder Bluff, after all. Satisfied that it was nothing more than a particularly violent storm, she reached to slip the hood further down over her face.

  And then she saw it. It emerged from its cover, as garishly colored as the concealing thundercloud had been subdued, an airborne ship with a bright purple balloon hovering over it. Then came another… and another. She gasped with the crash of recognition.

  "Zeppelins!" Magatha cried.

  Twenty nine

  No sooner had Magatha uttered the word than ropes were lowered from the sides of the zeppelins, and several tauren, ores, and trolls shimmied down them. Such was the surprise that many of the enemy were able to drop safely to the earth before the Grimtotem could gather guns and bows to defend themselves.

  Once on the ground, the enemy rushed to attack. Three of them were heading directly for Magatha. Fully awake now, she frowned and reached into a small pouch she carried by her side. Her fingers closed on one of her totems. The elements responded—the sky was suddenly ripped open by jagged bolts of lightning, several of which shot like spears directly at the enemy. Many of them fell at once. But in the chaos that ensued, another zeppelin moved into position and unloaded its dangerous passengers.

  Magatha snarled and lifted her hands to the sky. Lightning speared one of the zeppelins. It caught fire immediately, the blaze racing hungrily along, devouring the enormous rigid balloon frame in seconds. The pilot somehow managed to steer it so that it careened right into the flight tower.

  Magatha swore. The wyverns trapped within would be of no use to them as burned corpses. The late goblin pilot had made the destruction of his ship count.

  But there was no time to ponder the incident. A huge explosion rocked High Rise of Thunder Bluff. The remaining zeppelin was dropping bombs. Bodies and pieces of bodies flew up into the air, illuminated by the dim, incongruously pink light of dawn. Rahauro grabbed his matriarch and steered her back from the conflict. She struck him angrily and returned to the fray.

  "Get what wyverns we have and attack from the air!" she cried. "We've downed one of the zeppelins; let's get the other one!"

  "Other… two," Rahauro corrected.

  A huge storm crow landed beside Baine. It shapeshifted, twisted, and Hamuul told his chieftain, "We lost one of the zeppelins. But all their attention is focused on High Rise. Stormsong's thundercloud worked perfectly."

  Baine nodded his approval. The first wave was the most dramatic. They had the element of surprise, of shock and startlement, and Magatha and her best fighters were swarming over that level now. They were fighting the several dozen who had been lowered from the zeppelins to attack and distract them from the slower, but harder to stop, rogues stealthily moving to Hunter, Elder, and Spirit Rises. Baine was giving the Grimtotem a taste of their own medicine—cutting them off from one another. Except whereas the Grimtotem had slain the shaman, druids, and hunters, Baine's troops were merely cutting the ropes of the bridges that connected the smaller rises to the main rise. Some arrows, bullets, and spells would reach across the space between the rises, but the vast majority would not.

  Several of the mercenary trolls he had hired were also hard at work. They were swiftly and implacably scaling the sheer bluff. Bombs had been carefully placed for just such an attempt; these were carefully defused.

  The lifts, not surprisingly, were set to blow. These were more complicated and were taking much longer. For the moment the distraction on High Rise had worked, and no one had thought to blow the lifts.

  Yet.

  * * *

  What wyverns were left were swiftly prepared for flight, and the Grimtotem took the fight to the zeppelins. Grimtotem hunters mounted on the winged, lionlike creatures were able to fire directly on the crew and fighters on the deck—even those druids who had assumed storm crow form and were swooping down for the fight. But the Grimtotem were met with equal force as guns and arrows were fired directly at them. Magatha watched as one Grimtotem hunter was sprung upon by a great horned cat that sank its teeth in the hapless tauren's throat. Druid and hunter both toppled from the wyvern, the druid changing into storm crow shape a scant few feet
above the rise. The hunter struck the ground hard and lay still.

  Corpses were everywhere. It was time to retreat. There were Forsaken magi in a cavern containing bodies of water known as the Pools of Vision; they could, if properly persuaded, create a portal to whisk Magatha away to safety. The traditional ramp that led down to each level had been bombed by a zeppelin and was still smoking. Magatha gestured, then turned and leaped down to the second rise. Rahauro and several others followed her, weapons in hand. Bloody hand - to - hand combat was rampant as well. A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up to see one of the two remaining zeppelins.

  "To the Pools of Vision!" she cried. "And the lifts—detonate the bombs, then join me!"

  "At once, Elder Crone," Cor said. The bombs had been his plan, and now he hurried off to cam' out her orders.

  Magatha hastened up the lodge that led to the bridge. In the space of a few more heartbeats she would be—

  She skidded to a halt, her hooves slipping on the well - worn wood. Gorm reached out a hand just in time to keep his matriarch from falling down into the chasm that yawned below.

  "They've cut the ropes!" Gorm yelled, tugging Magatha back to safety.

  "I can see that, you stupid—" She was interrupted by an explosion. She turned back to the rise to see smoke coming up from where one of the lifts was, and smiled to herself. Now the next one. She waited for the highly anticipated sound. True, it would mean Thunder Bluff would be officially under siege for some time, but they were prepared for that.

  The sound did not come.

  The lift reached the top, and Baine Bloodhoof rushed forward so fast that Rahauro could not even move to intercept him. Hard on Baine's hooves were a charging bear, a Grimtotem, and several other warriors. Magatha reached for a totem, but before her fingers could close on it, Baine was upon her. He swung—not a sword, but what looked to be a mace, far too small for him.

  Breath rushed out of her in a whoosh as the small mace slammed into her side. She had not had the chance to don armor, and the impact sent her flying. Pain shot through her, and before she could even struggle to breathe, let alone rise, Baine Bloodhoof was crouching over her, holding the peculiar weapon high. "Yield!" he cried. 'Yield, murderess and traitor!"