Tides of Darkness (world of warcraf)

by Aaron Rosenberg

  "Did you think we could not hear you rustling about above us?" the elf sneered, his narrow features pulled taut in a glower. "Did you think we could not sense you befouling our forest? You are not welcome here, creature, and you will not be suffered to live."

  Ter'lij recovered from his surprise and laughed. "Very clever, little pale one," he agreed. "A fine trick you be playin' on Ter'lij. But there is only one of you, wi' your little stick, an' many of us." The rest of his pack landed behind him and ranged out, ready to surround the arrogant elf.

  But the elf only grinned more widely, his expression nasty. "Do you think so, oaf?" he taunted. "You pride yourself on your woodcraft, yet you are blind in the forest compared to us. And deaf."

  Suddenly a second elf emerged from behind a nearby tree. And then a third. And a fourth. Ter'lij frowned. There were more and more of them, until he and his pack were surrounded and thoroughly outnumbered. And all of them carried the same long spears and bore tall oblong shields. This was not what he had expected.

  Nonetheless, Ter'lij was a seasoned hunter and warrior and was not so easily frightened. "Better!" he announced finally, rising to his full height. "A real fight, not just pickin' off an unarmed elf! I like it!" And he leaped upon the lead elf, his sword raised high—and died in mid—air, the elf commander's spear sliding through his chest and piercing his heart before emerging out his back. The elf stepped to one side, letting Ter'lij's body slide from his weapon, and pivoted, sweeping the spear around in a deadly arc to slice off the hand of a troll advancing upon him.

  The battle was over quickly. The elf leader kicked at one of the bodies, which did not move, and nodded. He had faced forest trolls before, though never here in Quel'Thalas, and while they were talented forest hunters compared to most races they were clumsy when matched against an elf. Sylvanas had sent his patrol out, one of many, with orders to flush out and kill any trolls they could find. This was the second pack he had encountered, and he wondered how many more still crashed through their forest.

  He was opening his mouth to rally his men when a slender figure burst into the clearing, golden hair streaming behind her. His ears had picked up her approach seconds before she arrived, and clearly she had placed speed over customary stealth.

  "Halduron!" she called as she approached, slowing to a stop a few feet from him. "Good! I have spoken with the Alliance commander, and with Sylvanas as well. She needs all our forces along the southwest edge of the forest. That is where the Horde has gathered, and he cannot hold them for long."

  Halduron Brightwing nodded. "I shall inform Lor'themar, for his band is near here as well," he assured her, "and we will come to the aid of your friends. Their fight is now ours, and we will not allow them to fall before these foul creatures." He paused, studying her a second. "Are you well, Alleria? You seem flushed."

  Alleria shook her head, though a faint frown flitted across her face. "I am fine," she assured him. "Now go! Bring our warriors! I will return to my sister and to the Alliance and reassure them that aid is on the way." And she was gone again, turning on her heel and dashing back into the trees.

  Halduron watched her go, then shook himself. He had known Alleria Windrunner a long time, and could see that something had bothered or unsettled her. But they were all bothered this day, when strange creatures roamed their sacred woods. Not for long, however. Gesturing to his rangers, Halduron pulled his spear free of a troll and wiped it clean on the body, then turned. There would be time to rid the forest of their filth later. First they must deal with the foes still living.

  Turalyon felt it had only been minutes since Alleria's departure when she appeared again, surfacing through the battle to stand beside him. Her bow was slung across her back now and she had her sword in hand instead, using it to cut down an orc that had been trying to stab his horse in the hindquarters.

  "They will be here," she assured him, her eyes bright, and Turalyon nodded. He felt a surge of relief, though whether at the thought of reinforcements or the fact that she was still safe he was not sure. He frowned, unused to such thoughts, and pushed them aside for now. First he needed to worry about his and his troops' survival.

  The rain had finally stopped, though the clouds remained, casting the battlefield into shadow. So when Turalyon saw a dark shape loom up off to one side, at first he thought it was simply a distorted shadow from some orc warrior. But the shape continued to grow, and to gain solidity, and he stared, almost getting skewered by an orc as a result.

  "Stay focused!" Khadgar warned, riding up beside him and kicking the orc away before it could strike again. "What are you staring at?"

  "That," Turalyon replied, pointing with his hammer before returning his attention the fight raging around him.

  Now it was Khadgar's turn to stare, and the young—old wizard let out a string of curses as he saw the massive figure that had emerged from the trees and joined the far edge of the battle. It was easily twice the size of even an orc, with skin the color of aged leather. It held a massive hammer, most likely an orc two—handed weapon but used in a single hand by the behemoth, and wore strange armor—Turalyon's jaw tightened as he risked a second glance and realized the armor was human, breastplates and greaves and bracers linked together by thick chains to cover most of the massive creature's flesh.

  Its twin heads were bare, however, and glared down at the men and orcs milling before it. The hammer swept down as well, crushing two men in a single blow, and then swept to one side, knocking four more soldiers from their feet and tossing them several yards away.

  "What the hell is that thing?" Turalyon demanded, smashing a charging orc in the face and driving it back against another, who staggered under the shared impact.

  "An ogre," Khadgar replied. "A two—headed one."

  Turalyon started to tell his friend that yes, he had seen ogres before, and he had realized this one had two heads, when the strange ogre raised its empty hand toward a cluster of Alliance soldiers. Turalyon blinked, thinking his eyes were playing tricks upon him. Had he just seen fire pour from the creature's outstretched hand toward the soldiers? He looked again. Yes, there were flames licking about the soldiers now, and the men were dropping their weapons to beat at themselves where the fires danced across their armor and clothes. Several were pulling off their cloaks, which had ignited, and others were rolling in the grass, trying to put out the flames that tormented them. How had the strange new ogre done that?

  "Damn!" Khadgar had clearly seen it as well, if his increased cursing was any indication. "He's an ogre mage!"

  "A what?"

  "A wizard," Khadgar snapped. "A bloody ogre wizard!"

  "Ah." Turalyon dispatched another foe and stared at the monstrous ogre again, trying to understand this. The largest, strongest creature he had ever seen, and it cast magic? Wonderful. What would it take to kill such a beast? He started to ask Khadgar this, and choked on his words as the ogre mage suddenly reeled and fell forward, the hair on the back of its head spiked straight up by the last of the rainfall. At first Turalyon thought it was leaning down to do something to the bodies before it, perhaps devour them with its twin mouths, but the creature did not get up again. And then he realized that what he had taken for hair was too solid for that. Those were shafts, too big to be arrows. Spears!

  "Yes!" Alleria cheered, raising her bow high in salute. "My people have arrived!"

  And she was right, Turalyon saw. From the forest emerged row upon row of elves. These wore more armor than Alleria and her rangers, and heavier gear, and carried shields and spears as well. Clearly it had been their weapons that had felled the ogre mage. Turalyon had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.

  "They have excellent timing!" he told Alleria, having to shout to make himself heard over the chaos of combat. "Can you relay messages at all?"

  She nodded. "We use gestures for hunting, and they can be read at a distance."

  "Good." Turalyon nodded and pounded another orc into the ground as he marshaled his thoughts.
"We need to crush the Horde between us. Tell them to advance toward us, but also to spread out along the edges and sweep in. We'll do the same. I don't want the orcs to just squeeze out the sides because then they could close in on us instead." Alleria nodded and began gesturing toward the forest, and Turalyon saw one of the elves in front nod and turn to his fellows. Khadgar had been close enough to hear the discussion and he was already turning toward a nearby unit leader, shouting orders and telling the man to pass them along as well.

  Both armies began to fan out, the Alliance forces retreating slightly so they would have room to move. The Horde clearly took this as a sign of defeat, because a cheer went up among the orcs. Most of them had not yet seen the elves, who were still partially hidden beneath the trees. That was fine. Turalyon wanted them taken by surprise as much as possible, to reduce the chance of their getting away. He pulled his men back, detailing several units to hold the orcs at bay while the others got some distance between them, and then sent a third of his troops to each side and told them to sweep back in from there. The rest he kept with him, and he could see the Horde's puzzlement as he turned and led the charge straight back into their midst.

  On the far side, the elves had arrayed themselves in a similar fashion. And as the Horde braced itself to meet Turalyon's attack, the elves stepped forward, sweeping down with their spears to slice into the rear—most row of orcs. Many fell without a sound, but enough gasped or sighed or groaned that others turned to see what had disturbed their comrades. And then a ragged shout went up as the orcs realized they were beset on both sides.

  Several orc warriors turned and tried to run, realizing they were now trapped between two armies. But the arms of both human and elven forces curled around, blocking any escape. The orcs were forced to stand and fight, and most did so happily, losing themselves in rage and bloodlust. But with enemies on all sides, and elven bows and spears to complement human swords and axes and hammers, the orcs began to take heavy casualties.

  Turalyon felt a surge of hope. They were winning! The Horde still outnumbered his own soldiers and the elven warriors, but they were trapped and undisciplined. Each orc was fighting for himself or with a handful of others, most likely members of the same clan, and that left them vulnerable to the human and elven tactics. Particularly as his own men and the elves began working together more smoothly, the elven archers firing into a cluster of orcs to thin their ranks and cause confusion before the humans waded in, with the elven spearmen right behind them to stab and block and keep the orcs from ganging up on any soldiers. Already he could see visible gaps in the Horde, and as the Alliance and the elves moved in those gaps expanded, leaving only pockets of the orcs behind.

  Then he heard a loud roar. Glancing to the east, Turalyon saw a sight that made his stomach clench. Another of those monstrous two—headed ogres was striding into the battle, laying about with a massive club that he realized was simply a tree trunk with the branches shorn clean. A second of the brutes was right behind the first, a similar club in its own gargantuan hands, and then a third and a fourth followed them. Where were all these creatures coming from?

  The two—headed ogres waded into the Alliance troops, sweeping away whole units at a time. Turalyon quickly ordered his men to fall back and let the elves handle this new menace. But the first ogre had been taken by surprise. These were better prepared. They used their clubs to knock aside the flights of arrows and volleys of spears, and then crashed into the elves, sending the slender warriors flying. The Horde began to reform around these massive figures, and more orcs poured in behind them, filling their ranks back out and quickly shifting the numbers back in their favor.

  "We have to do something fast!" Turalyon shouted to Khadgar, who was beside him again. "Otherwise they'll sweep us back toward the mountains or west toward the water and we'll be the ones trapped!"

  Khadgar started to reply, but Alleria interrupted him. "Listen," she shouted. Her ears quivered.

  Turalyon shook his head. "I can't hear anything except fighting," he told her. "What is it?"

  She grinned up at him. "Help," she answered. "Help from above."

  "There! I see them!"

  "Aye, I see them as well, laddie," Kurdran Wildhammer snapped, privately annoyed that the young gryphon rider beside him had spotted the battle first. "Circle around, lads, and then aim for those monstrous brutes in the center. Mind the clubs, though." Tapping Sky'ree with his heels, the Wildhammer leader sent her screaming around and down toward the battlefield. One of the strange two—headed monsters glanced up and, seeing them, roared in reply, but Kurdran was moving too fast to evade, especially with orc warriors everywhere, hampering the giant's progress. As he dropped Kurdran raised his stormhammer, muscles tensing in anticipation. The beast roared again and swung at him with that massive club, but Sky'ree dodged the blow and flew so close her wing—tip brushed one of the creature's faces. Then Kurdran threw, putting all his considerable strength into the toss. The skies echoed with thunder and a lightning bolt struck the creature just as he did, lending its strength to the impact. The creature reeled back, its one head caved in, the other blackened, and toppled. It crushed three orcs when it fell, and its club smashed into several more.

  "Yes!" Kurdran whooped, catching his hammer as it returned and nudging Sky'ree up for another diving charge. "That's showed 'em, my beauty! It don't matter how big they are, the Wildhammers can bring 'em low!" He raised his hammer high and let out a loud whoop as he rose into the sky, his gryphon easily slipping past another brute's clumsy overhand swipe.

  "What are you lot waiting for?" he bellowed at his warriors, who grinned from their own circling mounts. "I've shown you how it's done! Now get down there and make sure the rest of these giants come crashing down as well!" They saluted mockingly, knowing his taunts were good—natured, and wheeled their gryphons around to begin their own attacks.

  Kurdran grinned. He glanced down and spotted the mage, the elf, and the commander he had met back in Aerie Peak. "Ho down there!" he bellowed, raising his hammer and twirling it above him. The elf raised her bow in salute, and the commander and the mage both nodded greetings. "Your Lord Lothar sent us!" Kurdran shouted, not sure they could hear him from this altitude. "And just in time, looks like!" Then he brought his hammer back down, gripping it with both hands once again, and steered Sky'ree back down toward the next of the mammoth two—headed creatures. Several had fallen already and the Horde was scattering around them, realizing their protectors were now actually a danger to them. And the humans and the elves were using the chaos to slaughter the panicked orcs left and right.

  Then something shifted in the wind, and Kurdran glanced up. Above him to the south he saw a dark shape gliding down At first he thought it might be one of his warriors, come to relay news or orders, but then realized it did not fly right for a gryphon. And it seemed to be coming from more to the east, past the Hinterlands and possibly below them. But what?

  Breaking off his attack, Kurdran brought Sky'ree back up beyond the brutes' reach and circled slowly, watching the approaching shadow. Was it a bird? If so it was higher than most, and its outline was strange. Some new form of attack? He laughed. It was no bigger than an eagle! Were the Horde sending eagles after them now, perhaps with gnomes perched on their backs? As if any raptor could stand against his beauty, he thought, patting Sky'ree's neck affectionately and receiving a musical caw in return.

  But the shape was closer now, and growing larger. And larger. And larger still.

  "By the Aerie!" Kurdran muttered, awed by its size. What was this thing that it could stay aloft and be so large? It was already as big as his Sky'ree, and he had a suspicion it was still high above him. Now he could make out its shape more clearly—long and lean, with a long tail and neck and great wings spread high above it and flapping only occasionally. The thing was gliding! It had to be high indeed to be coasting on the winds that way, and Kurdran felt a chill as he reestimated its size again. He only knew of one airborne creature that large, a
nd he couldn't imagine what one of them would want with this conflict.

  But then the last of the clouds faded away, and the sun shone down upon them. And gleamed red all along the creature, turning it into a soaring crimson streak. And Kurdran knew he had been right.

  It was a dragon.

  "Dragon!" he shouted. Most of his warriors were still battling the two—headed brutes, but young Murkhad glanced up and looked where Kurdran was pointing. Then the fool actually kicked his gryphon into a rapid ascent, the mount flaring her wings out to gain altitude.

  "What are ye doing, ye halfwit?" Kurdran shouted, but if Murkhad heard he gave no reply. Instead the youthful Wildhammer turned his mount toward the dragon, which was now angled in a steep dive, and raised his stormhammer high. Giving a fierce yell, Murkhad charged straight for the plummeting lizard—and vanished without a sound as the dragon opened its mouth, revealing great triangular teeth the size of a large dwarf and a long forked tongue the color of blood, and consumed the hapless dwarf and his gryphon in a single snap.

  Murkhad never even saw the sorrow evident in the dragon's enormous golden eyes, or the burly green—skinned figure perched on the dragon's back, long leather reins wrapped around one hand.

  "By the Light!" Turalyon had cheered with the others when the Wildhammers had arrived, and when Kurdran felled the first two—headed ogre. But he had glanced up again at a faint cry from the Wildhammer leader, and had looked in time to see the fiery dragon descend upon one of the gryphon riders and swallow him like he was a sausage.

  And now the dragon was descending upon them. And more were right behind it, streaks of crimson dropping from the sky.