Free The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm by Christie Golden Page B

to be peaceable!”
    Jaina and Varian listened, Jaina with ever-widening eyes and Varian slowly clenching his fists, as the gory tale unfolded. A dozen Sentinels had been ambushed as they guarded a convoy of harvested herbs and mineral carts making their way through the green forests of Ashenvale. None had survived. Their deaths were only discovered when the convoy was two days late in arriving at its destination. The carts and all they had contained were gone.
    Valarya paused and took a deep breath, as if calming herself. Her sister Sentinel stepped beside her and squeezed her shoulder. Varian was frowning, but Jaina pressed on.
    “It is indeed a violation of the agreement,” Jaina said, “and as such needs to be brought to Thrall’s attention. But even so—I’m afraid I still don’t see what makes you call this a slaughter rather than an unfortunately not uncommon incident.”
    Ayli winced and turned away. Jaina looked from one to the other. These were warriors, who had likely been fighting for longer than Jaina had been alive. What had rattled them so?
    “Let me put it this way, Lady Proudmoore,” Valarya said through clenched teeth. “We weren’t able to recover the bodies.”
    Jaina swallowed. “Why not?”
    “Because they had been methodically choppedinto several pieces,” Valarya said, “and those pieces were taken away by carrion eaters. This was, of course,
after
they had been skinned. We’re not sure if they were alive for that or not.”
    Jaina’s hand flew to her mouth. Bile rose in her throat. This was beyond obscene, beyond an atrocity. …
    “The skins were hung like linens from a nearby tree. And on that tree, written in elven blood, were Horde symbols.”
    “Thrall!”
bellowed Varian. He whirled on Jaina, glaring at her. “He authorized this! And you prevented me from killing him when I had the chance!”
    “Varian,” Jaina said, fighting not to be sick, “I’ve fought beside him. I’ve helped negotiate treaties with him—treaties he has always honored. There is
nothing
about this that sounds like
anything
he would do. We have no proof whatsoever that he authorized this incursion, and—”
    “No proof? Jaina, they were orcs! He’s an orc, and he’s supposed to lead the damned Horde!”
    Her stomach was calm now, and she knew that she was in the right. “The Defias are humans,” Jaina said, very quietly. “Should you be held responsible for their actions?”
    Varian jerked as if she had struck him. For a moment she thought she had reached him. The Defias were a deeply personal enemy and had taken a great deal from Varian. Then his brows drew together in a scowl that was made terrifying by the brutal scar across his face. He did not look like himself now.
    He looked like Lo’Gosh.
    “You dare recall that to me,” he growled softly.
    “I do. Someone has to recall you to yourself.” She did not meet the anger of Lo’Gosh, the part of Varian that was cold and swift and violent, with anger of her own. She met it with the practicality that had saved her—and others—time and time again.
    “You lead the kingdom of Stormwind—the most powerful in the Alliance. Thrall leads the Horde. You can make laws, and rules, and treaties, and so can he. And he is no more capable of controlling the actions of every single one of his citizens than you are. No one is.”
    Lo’Gosh scowled. “What if you are wrong, Jaina? And what if I’m right? You’ve been known to be a poor judge of character in the past.”
    Now it was Jaina’s turn to freeze, stunned, at the words. He was hurling Arthas back at her. That was how Lo’Gosh played, how he had won in gladiatorial combat—dirty, using every tool at his disposal in order to win at all costs. Her nightmare rushed back at her, and she pushed it away. She took a deep breath and composed herself.
    “Many of us knew Arthas well, Varian. Including you. You lived with him for years. You didn’t see the monster he would become. Neither did