Chapter 13

           Threedayslater,LadyJainaProudmoorewalkedthestreetsofwhathadoncebeenaproudcity,thegloryofnorthernLordaeron.Now,itwasthestuffofnightmares.

           Thestenchwasalmostunbearable.Sheliftedahandkerchief,liberallyscentedwithpeacebloomessence,toherfaceinapartiallysuccessfulattempttofilterouttheworstofit.Firesthatoughttohaveconsumedthemselves,orhaveabatedatleastslightlyfromlackoffuel,continuedtorageattheirfullheight,tellingJainathatsomedarkmagicwasafoot.Combinedwiththeacridsmellofsmokethatstunghereyesandthroatwasthereekofputrefaction.

           Theylayastheyhadfallen,mostofthemunarmed.TearswelledinJaina’seyesandslippeddownhercheeksasshemovedasifinatrance,carefullysteppingoverthebloatedbodies.AsoftwhimperofpainescapedasshesawthatArthasandhismen,intheirmisguidedmercy,hadnotevensparedthechildren.

           Wouldthesebodies,lyingstillandstiffindeath,haverisentoattackherifArthashadnotslainthem?Perhaps.Manyofthem,certainly;thegrainhadindeedbeendistributedandconsumed.Buteverysingleone?Shewouldneverknow,norwouldhe.

           "Jaina—Iaskyouagain,comewithme."Hisvoicewasintense,butitwasclearhismindwasathousandleaguesaway."Heescapedme.Isavedthecity’sinhabitantsfrombecominghisslaves,but—atthelastminutehegotaway.He’sinNorthrend.Comewithme."

           Jainaclosedhereyes.