Warcraft: Official Movie Novelization

Furiously, Garona pushed aside the image of the widowed queen, focusing only on Gul’dan. She had the power of the truth behind her, and he knew it. His eyes darted to the one orc who had spoken out, then back to her. Garona forced herself to sneer as if in anticipation as she added, “There will be other days to kill humans.”

I have lost so much today. Llane. Varis and Karos. The trust of good people. You will not take Lothar, too. You will have to go through me to do so.

Lothar had paused, stiff, when Garona had placed herself between him and Gul’dan. For a horrible, wonderful moment, he thought she would explain what had happened—that she was no traitor. But no. She argued for his life, he could see that. But only for her own reasons.

The orcs who held the gryphon released her to him. He laid his friend across the creature’s back and, suddenly feeling every one of his injuries, climbed up behind him.

The gryphon rose, carefully, as if she understood what she bore. As she climbed skyward, Lothar, unable to help himself, took a last look at Garona.

Their eyes met. He could not read her expression. Then, mercifully, the gryphon leaned into the wind, and her strong wings bore him away from the battlefield, away from the Horde, away from the green-skinned woman he had once held in his arms, and thought true.

23

Khadgar leaned out the window of the inn, gazing at Stormwind as it unfolded itself below him. He’d spent many hours in this room, but his gaze had been focused elsewhere: on books, on puzzles. He’d read by candlelight more than daylight. Now, his gaze roamed over the blue roofs, the beautiful white stone cathedral, and lingered on the statue to the Guardian of Azeroth.

A role that could have been his, had things been different.

“It’s just as well,” came a voice. Khadgar jumped slightly and looked up to see Anduin Lothar leaning against the doorframe. The older man grinned. “You would have made a terrible Guardian.”

Khadgar laughed a little. “Saving the world isn’t a one-man job. Never has been.”

Lothar said, with unwonted kindness, “I would have helped out.” He closed the door behind him and pulled out something from beneath his shirt, tossing it onto the table. It was a small dagger, exquisitely wrought, its jeweled hilt winking.

Khadgar’s breath caught. “Garona’s dagger.”

“I pulled it from Llane’s neck.”

It wasn’t possible. Garona would not have done such a thing. She couldn’t have. Khadgar stared at the blade, then up at Lothar, and stated, firmly, “There has to be an explanation.”

“Yes. She made her choice.” Lothar’s blue eyes were hard as chips of ice, but there was a tightness at their edges that spoke more of pain than of anger.

No. Khadgar didn’t know how he knew it, but he did. “I don’t believe that.”

He didn’t shrink from Lothar’s perusal. At last, the commander said only, “Maybe you and I didn’t know her as well as we think we did.” Lothar nodded toward the dagger. “I just thought you deserved to know.”

And he was gone. Khadgar stared at the blade, given by a queen to someone she had trusted, but that had, somehow, ended up in her husband’s throat.

He stared at it for a long time.

Taria had dressed with great care. Her hair had been styled, her crown set upon it. Cosmetics gave her artificial color, but did nothing to conceal the pain in her eyes and exhaustion that caused her cheeks to appear hollow. And that was all to the good.

She had dressed this carefully on her wedding day, when she had formally entered her husband’s life and world. She had done so then with joy, willing to share that joy with her people, as royalty should. Now, as royalty, she would be saying farewell to her husband’s presence in her life, and would do so publically. Such, also, was royalty’s duty.

The news had crushed her—particularly when the anguishing details of how her husband had died had been revealed to her. Lothar had not wished to disclose them, but he knew, as she did, that as queen, and the regent of the future king, she needed to know the wrenching truth.

Tears leaked out from under her lids, but she blinked them away. Yes, they were all grieving, she foremost among them. But the people of Stormwind needed her strength today, and that, Taria would give them.

Thousands were assembled, a great sea of upturned faces, stretching back to reach all the way down to the harbor itself. They did not cheer when she strode out to greet them. She had not expected them to.

Llane lay in the center, on a raised funeral pyre. Men were buried. Kings were burned. In front of him was his sword and his battered shield.