The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Read Online Free PDF

wind blowing off the arctic seas despite his thick fur, his body stiffening up from its wounds and the exertion, Cairne was forced to admit that it had indeed been a while since he had fought with any regularity, though he had still been able to hold his own when he needed to.
    “The Horde won victory against all odds, against a terrible foe in Northrend,” said Garrosh, returning to the original subject of the conversation. “Each life counted toward that goal. Toward the honor and glory of the Horde. Saurfang’s own son was lost. He and the others shall have
lok’vadnods
composed and sung for them. One day, ancestors willing, I shall have one written for me as well. And that is why I am saddened to depart, Cairne Bloodhoof.”
    Cairne nodded his grizzled head. “Though I do not think you want a
lok’vadnod
terribly soon, hmm?”
    It was an attempt to interject levity, but Grom Hellscream’s boy was too earnest to chuckle along. “Whenever death comes, I will meet it proudly. Fighting for my people, a weapon in my hand, my battle cry on my lips.”
    “Hrmmm,” rumbled Cairne. “It is a glorious way to go. With honor and pride. May we each be granted such a dignity. But I have much more stargazing to do, more listening to drumming circles. More teaching the young ones and watching them come of age before I am willing to go with death on that final journey.”
    Garrosh opened his mouth to speak, but it was as if the wind snatched the words out of his tusked mouth. Cairne, massive and solid as he was, stumbled under the force of the gale that erupted out of nowhere. The ship lurched beneath them, tipping wildly to one side, and suddenly the deck was awash in water.
    “What is happening?” Garrosh bellowed, even that loud sound almost drowned out by the abrupt howling of the wind. Cairne did not know the proper seaman’s term for this type of storm and thought that identifying it was the least of their worries. CaptainTula rushed on deck, her blue skin pale and her eyes wide. Her functional clothing—black foot wraps, pants, and a plain white shirt—was drenched and plastered to her skin. Her black hair had come undone from its topknot and looked like a mop atop her head.
    “What can I do?” Cairne asked at once, unsettled more by her obvious concern than the storm that had quite literally seemed to come out of nowhere.
    “Get below so I won’t be havin’ t’ worry about you landlubbers!” she shouted, too focused to worry about rank and courtesies. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Cairne would have chuckled. As it was, he reached out, seized Garrosh unceremoniously by the back of his gorget, and had begun to steer the protesting orc toward the center of the ship when the wave crashed over them all.
    Cairne was slammed to the deck as if by a giant hand. The breath was knocked out of him, and even as he struggled, water surged into his lungs to take its place. As quickly as it had come, the wave receded, nearly taking both him and Garrosh with it as easily as if they were but twigs in a stream wending through Quel’Thalas. As one, they reached out to one another, hands gripping painfully hard. They slammed into the curving bulwark, their progress halted for the moment. Cairne rose, his hooves carving a deep gouge in the slippery wooden deck as he stubbornly sought purchase. Snorting and bellowing with the effort, he fought his way forward, hauling Garrosh until the orc could scramble upright. There came a sudden crack of lightning far, far too close and the shattering rumble of thunder almost immediately afterward.
    Still Cairne moved forward, one arm around Garrosh, the other reaching out until it grasped the slippery but solid doorframe, and the two half-stumbled, half-slid down into the hold.
    Garrosh vomited up water, then stubbornly reached out a brown hand and tried to rise. “Cowards and children stay in the hold while others risk their lives,” he gasped.
    Cairne placed a hand none too