Cycle of Hatred

"Yes, Chamberlain, I have a report for the lady, which I'll give her as soon as she arrives."

Kristoff smiled. It was the most insincere smile Lorena had ever seen, and after spending years guarding the keep at Kul Tiras, it was against some stiff competition. "You may give it to me, and I can assure you that I will pass it on to Lady Proudmoore."

"I prefer to wait for milady myself, sir, if you don't mind."

"She is away on official business." Kristoff inhaled sharply. "She could be some time."

Giving the chamberlain an insincere smile of her own, the colonel said, "The lady's a mage—when her business is conducted, she'll be back in an instant. And she wished me to report directly to her."

"Colonel—"

Whatever Kristoff was about to say was lost to a loud popping sound and a flash of light that heralded the arrival of Lady Proudmoore.

She wasn't much to look at, the colonel had always thought, but she had also learned early on that mages were not ones to judge on appearances. Lorena had spent all her life trying to make herself look as male as possible—keeping her hair cut short, not shaving her legs, wearing undergarments that hid her breasts—and even with all that, she was often dismissed as being «just» a woman. It amazed Lorena how this small, pale woman with her golden hair and deep blue eyes managed to gain the respect of so many.

In part, Lorena supposed it was the way she carried herself. She seemed to be the tallest person in whatever room she stood in, even though she was often the shortest. Her clothes all tended to be white: boots, blouse, pantaloons, cloak. Most amazingly, the clothes remained a shiny white. It took a week out of every year of a soldier's life to keep the white trim in the plate armor from turning brown or gray, and most were unsuccessful, yet Lady Proudmoore's clothes almost glowed.

Lorena supposed that was a fortuitous side effect of being a powerful mage.

"Colonel, you've returned." Lady Proudmoore spoke as if she'd been standing in the room all along. "Please report."

Quickly and concisely, Lorena told the lady, as well as the chamberlain, what she and her people had learned at Northwatch.

Kristoff pursed his thin lips. "I've never heard of this Burning Blade."

"I have." The lady had flipped back her hood, letting her golden curls loose, and sat at her desk while Lorena was giving her report, and she now put a finger to her chin. "There was an orc clan by that name, but they've been wiped out. And some of the Elite Guard have mentioned it in passing."

Lorena didn't like the sound of this. It was one thing for Strov to have heard of it, but if rumors of this organization were reaching the lady's personal guards, then something was amiss. "These were orcs, ma'am, that much I'm sure of."

"Or were made to look like orcs," Lady Proudmoore said. "They obviously had use of magic—which is vexing enough—and therefore could have been deliberately masking themselves. After all, an unprovoked attack on human soldiers by orcs would do much to destabilize our alliance."

"It is also possible," Kristoff said, "that these are orc agitators who are using this extinct clan for their own purposes."

Lorena shook her head. "That doesn't explain how Private Strov's brother heard of them in a Theramore tavern."

The lady nodded, her thoughts seeming to turn inward, as if she forgot there were others in the room. Lorena had known few wizards in her time, but they all had a tendency to wander mentally.

However, unlike those other mages—who often needed a club to the head to pay attention to the world around them—Lady Proudmoore usually was able to bring herself back to reality on her own. She did so now, and stood up. "Colonel, I want you to investigate this Burning Blade. We need to know who they are, how they operate, especially if they're using magic. If they have orc recruits, then why try to lure humans? Get to the bottom of it, Lorena—use whoever you need."

Standing straight, Lorena saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

"Kristoff, I'm afraid I'm going to need to depart immediately. Thunder lizards have gotten loose from Thunder Ridge, and are endangering Drygulch Ravine."

Frowning, the chamberlain said, "I fail to see how that concerns us—or you."

"A section of the forest that keeps the lizards contained in the ridge has been razed to the stump. Orcs did not do that."

"How can you be sure of that?" Kristoff sounded incredulous.

Lorena felt much the same way at the chamberlain's idiotic words. "It can't possibly have been orcs." Realizing she spoke out of turn, she shot Lady Proudmoore a look. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

Smiling, the lady said, "Quite all right. Please, continue."

Looking back at Kristoff, Lorena said, "Even when they were cursed by the Burning Legion, orcs would never do such a thing. Orcs have always had a reverence for the land that, frankly, borders on the psychotic."

Lady Proudmoore chuckled. "Actually, I'd say that the human proclivity for abuse of nature is what borders on the psychotic, but the colonel's point is well taken. Orcs simply aren't capable of doing that—especially given what would happen with the thunder lizards. That leaves the trolls, who have ceded themselves to Thrall's rule, the goblins, who are neutral, and us—allies of Durotar." She sighed. "In addition, there is no sign of the lumber that was cut down. It had to have been transported, but there are no reports of any convoys, by air or land. Which means magic."

Not liking the sound of that at all, Lorena asked, "Ma'am, do you believe the Burning Blade had something to do with it?"

"After hearing your report, Colonel, I'm very much inclined in that direction—and that's what I want you to learn."

Kristoff folded his spindly arms over his small chest. "I fail to see how this requires your being away from Theramore."

"I promised Thrall I would investigate personally." She smiled wryly. "Right now, I'm his best suspect for performing this act, since cutting down the trees and teleporting them elsewhere on Kalimdor is well within my abilities. What better way to prove my i

"I can think of several ways," Kristoff said sourly.

Lady Proudmoore walked around to the other side of her desk, standing face to face with her chamberlain. "There is another reason. It is quite possible that magic is afoot here. Powerful magic. If there is magic of this much power on Kalimdor, I need to know who is wielding it—and learn why the mage in question has remained secretive."

"If magic is involved." Kristoff sounded so petulant Lorena wanted desperately to punch him. However, he then let out a long breath and unfolded his arms. "Still, I suppose that is a legitimate concern. At the very least, it does need to be investigated. I withdraw my objections."

Dryly, the lady said, "I'm so glad you approve, Kristoff." She walked back to her desk, rummaging through the pile of scrolls. "I will depart in the morning. Kristoff, you will handle things while I'm gone, as I'm not sure how long this will take. You will be empowered to act in my name until my return." Turning toward Lorena, she added, "Good hunting, Colonel. You're both dismissed."

Lorena saluted again, turned on her heel, and departed. As she exited, she heard Kristoff start to say something, but the lady interrupted. "I said you were dismissed, Chamberlain."

"Of course, ma'am."

The colonel couldn't help but smile at the peeved tone in the chamberlain's voice.

There were times when Jaina Proudmoore really hated being right.

Being wrong was never something that bothered her, and she mostly blamed Antonidas for that. Her mentor had drummed into her from the moment her apprenticeship started that the worst sin a mage could commit was arrogance, and also the easiest. "With so much power at your command—literally at your fingertips—it is easy to be tempted to think that you are all—powerful," the older wizard had said. "Indeed it is so easy that most wizards succumb to the notion. It is one of the reasons why we are often so tiresome." That last had been said with a small smile.