Tides of Darkness (world of warcraf)

by Aaron Rosenberg

"Good." Gul'dan spoke softly, not wanting to break the creature's concentration. "Now bring that flame to life. Let it claim the leaf, the fire licking across it, the heat warming your skin, almost burning your fingers."

  He watched as a spark appeared near the middle of the leaf and rapidly grew to a small flame that spread hungrily. The leaf shriveled, turning dark and brittle in seconds as the fire consumed it. The breeze carried it away, and the ogre glanced up, meeting Gul'dan's eyes with both its own pairs, its double gaze bright.

  "I am an ogre mage then, yes?" It sounded pleased. One head grinned. The other smiled slightly, though it seemed puzzled.

  "Yes," Gul'dan agreed, also pleased. "You are one of us."

  "What does that mean, ‘one of us'?" the creature asked next, its less exuberant head frowning. "What do I do with this gift?"

  Gul'dan explained about the Horde. He also told the ogre about the need to conquer here, and about the other races they had already faced in their quest. The ogre mage listened quietly, absorbing every detail.

  "You created me," the ogre said at last. It was not a question, but Gul'dan nodded. "I am your creature then," the ogre affirmed. "I will serve you. Your cause is my cause. Tell me what to do."

  Inside, Gul'dan rejoiced. It was exactly as he'd hoped. By shaping the two—headed ogre with his own magic, he had formed a bond between them. The creature was completely loyal! Outwardly, however, he was careful not to show too much glee. Instead he simply gestured for Cho'gall to approach. "This is Cho'gall," Gul'dan explained. "He, like you, is a trusted assistant and an ogre mage. He will explain what we are doing here. And he will give you a name of your own."

  The new ogre bowed its heads. "Thank you, master," the more somber head said before the creature followed Cho'gall away. Gul'dan knew his assistant would set the new ogre mage to work powering the Altar again. And with each use they would gain another two—headed ogre. He knew he could not expect most of them to be ogre magi—that was too much to hope for. But if even one in ten possessed the necessary intelligence he would be able to assemble a second Altar and power that one as well. Gul'dan chuckled. He would transform every ogre in the Horde if Doomhammer did not stop him. And why would he? As far as Doomhammer knew, he was getting bigger, stronger warriors. The Warchief would never suspect that these new creatures were completely loyal to Gul'dan and not him, and Gul'dan would make sure his new servants did not reveal their true loyalties too soon. Only when the time was right. And then Doomhammer would discover there was a new faction within the Horde, one he could not so easily destroy or cast aside.

  Gul'dan laughed again and turned away. Cho'gall would handle the rest of the process here. He had other tasks to oversee, ones that would later lead to his finally claiming the power that lay waiting for him elsewhere.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  "By Silvermoon, where are they?" Alleria raced through the forest, sword in hand, the leaves and branches whipping past her as a blur. The other rangers had fanned out to cover more ground, and Alleria hoped they hadn't run into any orcs or trolls. She wanted those miserable green—skinned intruders for herself.

  Not for the first time since seeing the fires she wished she'd never left home. Why had she decided that the Alliance needed her help? Weren't Anasterian Sunstrider and the other council members far older and wiser than she was, and thus far better equipped to decide what aid they should offer the younger races? Then again, Anasterian had been convinced the Horde would never pose a threat to them here in Quel'Thalas. That was why he had felt the Alliance was not their concern, because they were safe from whatever was occurring in the outside world.

  Clearly he had been wrong.

  Still, if Alleria had listened to him and abided by his decision she would have been here, not sailing downriver and marching over hills. She would have been here when the orcs and trolls arrived, here with her family and her people when the Horde breached their borders.

  Would it have made any difference? She didn't know. Perhaps not. What could one more ranger have done to stop an enemy she wouldn't even realize was approaching? But at least she wouldn't now feel like she had deserted them in their hour of need.

  The thought spurred her to even greater speed, and she leaped over a low bush into a tiny clearing between two clusters of trees—and found herself staring down the tip of a hunting arrow aimed at her throat.

  The figure holding the bow was nearly as tall as her and wearing similar garb, though far less travel—stained. Long hair streamed back from beneath the cloak's hood and seemed to gleam like ivory in the sunlight, a shining silvery white that Alleria knew too well to ever mistake it.

  "Vereesa?"

  The other figure lowered the bow, her blue eyes wide with surprise and relief. "Alleria?" Then the bow had been tossed aside, and Alleria's younger sister had caught her up in a rough embrace. "You're home!"

  "Of course." Alleria squeezed Vereesa in return and patted her head, a gesture so familiar it was automatic. "Are you all right?" she asked after a minute. "Where's Sylvanas? Are Mother and Father safe?"

  "They're fine," Vereesa answered, disengaging and bending to retrieve her weapons. "Sylvanas is with a hunting party near the riverbank. As for Mother and Father, they should be in Silvermoon by now. They went to consult with the elders." She paused, fitting the arrow back to her string. "Alleria, where have you been? And what's going on? There are fires! All over Quel'Thalas! And some of the other rangers—they haven't reported back."

  Alleria felt her stomach twist at the news. If rangers were going missing, it meant the Horde had penetrated deep into the forest already. "We're being invaded, little sister," she told Vereesa bluntly, bringing her sword up and turning to put her back against her sister. Her ears twitched. "Now, quiet."

  "Quiet? But why—" Vereesa's comments were cut off as a tall figure dropped from the trees above. It lunged forward, a short—hafted, long—bladed axe in one hand, but Alleria had heard it just before its descent and was ready for it. She brought her sword up, parrying the blow, and spun to the side, neatly sidestepping its secondary attack with a long curving dagger. Her sword arced about and removed the creature's head and it pitched forward, the weapons falling from its now—lifeless fingers.

  "Quick!" Alleria warned, stooping quickly and then straightening again. "We need to move! Now!" Vereesa, wide—eyed at the sudden bloodshed, nodded and turned away, running as much from the violence as from her sister's order. She was young still, the youngest of the three sisters, and had never seen real combat before. Alleria had hoped it would be a long time before that would happen but it was too late to worry about that now.

  They ran through the woods, and Alleria was sure she heard laughter above them somewhere. Trolls! The creatures were following them, keeping pace on the branches above. No doubt they planned to drop down on her and Vereesa and kill both of them before they could find help. But the trolls didn't know this wood. Alleria did.

  She ran, leading both Vereesa and their unseen pursuers, twisting and turning and leaping, crossing streams and clearings, darting through groves, ducking under trees and vines. Vereesa kept pace, her bow still in her hands. And the laughter clung to them as well.

  Then Alleria saw a ribbon of silver ahead. The river! She put on a spurt of additional speed, Vereesa matching her, and they burst from the trees onto the strip of open land beside the river. She felt the impact behind her as one and then several trolls dropped from the trees, knowing they would have to catch her before she could wade into the deep water and float or swim beyond their reach. Trolls did not like water.

  "Nice chase, pale one," one of the creatures behind her growled. "But now you die!"

  Hands reached for her, long claws scraped at her, catching at her hair, but Alleria twisted away, avoiding their grasp. She spun around, sword coming up, ready to fight as long as she could—and watched as the troll stiffened and toppled backward. A long shaft protruded from its neck.

  Similar shafts struck the other trolls,
felling them before they could retreat to the safety of the trees. And Alleria, turning back toward the river, glanced around and saw several rangers on the far bank, their bows still quivering from the recent archery. One of them wore a long green cloak and a more ornate tunic than the others. She had long blond hair, darker than Alleria's but otherwise similar, and eyes more gray than green or blue but the same shape as both hers and Vereesa's. The other rangers positioned themselves around her as she smiled and held up her bow in salute.

  "Welcome home, Alleria!" Sylvanas called. "Now what is this trouble you have brought us?" Even from across the river she radiated intensity, as if she could will the answers to appear.

  Alleria smiled at her sister's greeting—Sylvanas, Ranger General of all Quel'Thalas, was as forceful as ever—then shook her head. "I did not bring it, Sylvanas," she answered truthfully. "I had hoped to outrun it. But I do bring possible salvation." She glanced back at the dead trolls behind her, and at Vereesa, who stood swaying and pale and resolutely facing away from the recent corpses. "I must speak to the Council."

  "I do not know if they will listen," Sylvanas warned. "They are too busy worrying about these fires to consider much else right now. As am I. They are appearing all across the forest, seemingly at random." She glanced pointedly at the dead trolls. "And now I must tend to this matter as well."

  Alleria grimaced and looked down. "They will listen," she promised. "I will give them no choice."

  "What is the meaning of this?" Anasterian Sunstrider demanded. He and the Council of Silvermoon were discussing matters in low, serious voices when Alleria walked in unannounced and uninvited. Several of the high elf rulers rose from their seats, surprised at her presence, but Alleria ignored them. She focused only on Anasterian.

  The high elf king was old, old even for an elf, with hair that had long since turned white and skin thin as parchment and lined as a piece of old wood. He had gone from slender to frail but his blue eyes were still piercing and his voice, though thin as well, was still filled with authority. Alleria instinctively shrank back from his anger but then she remembered why she was here and straightened.

  "I am Alleria Windrunner," she announced, though she knew most of the council members recognized her. "I have been beyond our borders, and have fought alongside the humans in their war. And I have returned to bring you grave tidings, not just for them but for us." She frowned and studied the men and women before her. "The Horde the humans warned of is real and vast and powerful. The bulk of their forces are orcs, but they have other creatures as well. Including the forest trolls." That got a reaction, gasps and angry mutterings. None of the other high elves knew what an orc was—she hadn't herself until she'd fought them in the Hillsbrad—but they all knew about trolls. Some here, including Anasterian himself, had even fought in the great Troll Wars long ago, some four thousand years after Quel'Thalas was founded.

  "You say this Horde includes trolls," a lord stated loudly, "yet why should that concern us? Let the trolls follow these strange creatures you tell of, and hopefully march far away from here. Perhaps the humans will even do us a favor and kill them for us!" Several other elves laughed and nodded.

  "You do not understand," Alleria told them angrily. "The Horde is not some distant problem we can ignore and laugh about! They intend to conquer all of Lordaeron, from coast to coast! And that includes us here in Quel'Thalas!"

  "Let them come!" Another lord, an elven mage she thought was named Dar'Khan, scoffed. "Our lands are well—defended—none can pass the Runestones and survive."

  "Oh no?" Alleria snarled at him. "Are you so sure? Because already the trolls have entered our forests. Already they stalk through our lands, killing our people. And the orcs will not be far behind. They are less powerful than trolls, individually, but they are as numerous as locusts, enough of them to cover the land. And they are here."

  "Here?" Anasterian scoffed. "Impossible!"

  In answer Alleria swung her arm and released the object she had been carrying since she and Vereesa had run. The troll's head flew through the air, its short dark hair waving about it, the sun catching on a tusk, and fell again, landing just before Anasterian's feet.

  "This one attacked Vereesa and me," Alleria explained, "not an hour's run from the river crossing. Several more followed us to there, and their bodies still lie on the far bank unless Sylvanas and her party have moved them." She noticed that none of the lords were laughing at her anymore. "They are here," she insisted again. "The trolls are within our woods, killing our people. And the orcs are the ones burning the edges of Eversong Forest!" Though she admitted to herself she did not know how they could be causing the other fires both Vereesa and Sylvanas had mentioned.

  "Outrageous!" This time Anasterian's outburst was not directed at her. The elf king kicked the troll head, causing it to roll away under another lord's chair. His eyes were sharp and his brow drawn, and when he turned back to Alleria she could see the energy and focus that had made him such a great king for so many years. All hints of frailty were gone, brushed aside in the current crisis. "They dare to invade our home?" Anasterian fumed. "They dare!" He looked up and his expression was like thunder. "We shall teach them to trespass here! Gather our warriors," he instructed the other lords. "Summon our rangers. We will attack the trolls and drive them from our forest so sternly they shall never dare encroach again."

  Alleria was pleased to see her king so determined, and certainly agreed with the sentiment. But she shook her head anyway. "The trolls are only part of the danger," she reminded Anasterian and the others. "The Horde is numerous beyond belief and the orcs are strong, tough, and determined." She grinned. "Fortunately I did not come alone."

  Turalyon was battling a pair of orcs and had just smashed one to the ground with his hammer, though he took a heavy blow on his shield from the other. A third orc leaped at him, almost knocking him from his horse, and since the creature was too close to strike with a weapon Turalyon headbutted him instead, his heavy helm striking the orc across the brow and the bridge of the nose and leaving him stunned. Turalyon shoved the dazed orc off his horse and onto his third foe, then used that opportunity to strike both of them good hard blows. Neither of those two would get up again.

  He brushed water from the front of his helmet, taking a second to peer up at the thick gray clouds that hung above them. The rain showed no sign of letting up, though he supposed that was a good thing. At least the fires were out now, and unlikely to start again. He supposed he could stand fighting in such soggy, miserable weather if it helped keep the elven homeland from burning to the ground. Off to his side he caught a brief glimpse of Khadgar, who was laying about him with sword and staff. The wizard had exhausted his magic summoning the vast storm, which stretched across the entire front of Quel'Thalas, but he was proving formidable enough with mundane weapons that Turalyon knew he should not waste time worrying about his friend. Besides, he had enough foes that he should be focusing that worry on himself instead.

  Turalyon was just turning to deal with a pair of orcs at his left flank when one of the two stiffened, twitched, and toppled over, an arrow through his throat. Turalyon recognized the fletching and grinned. Sure enough, a lithe young woman darted toward him a moment later, her travel cloak's hood tossed back despite the downpour, the tips of her long pointed ears piercing the golden mane that surrounded her lovely face. Somehow the rain was ignoring her, falling around her instead of on her, and Turalyon was not sure if it was elven magic or just the sheer power of her natural beauty.

  "I can see I got here just in time," Alleria commented as she reached him, idly turning and putting an arrow in another orc's throat. "What do you do when I am not around to save you?"

  "I manage," Turalyon replied, too caught up in battle to feel flustered by her presence. He blocked an attack and struck down the orc in question, already turning to find the next foe. "Did you find them?"

  "I did," she confirmed. "And they have agreed. Already the warriors and rangers are mobili
zed. They can be here in ten minutes, if here is where you want them."

  Turalyon nodded, using his hammer's long shaft to block an axe swing and then shortening his grip so the hammer's head struck the offending orc on the return swing. "Here is as good a place as any," he answered. "And as long as we are here to fight them the Horde isn't going anywhere."

  Alleria nodded. "I will run back and inform them. You have only to hold fast until they arrive." Her voice sounded strange, and Turalyon risked a quick glance. By the Light! Was she crying? She certainly looked sad. No doubt the invasion of her homeland had taken a hard toll upon her.

  "We will hold," he assured her grimly. "We must." And Alleria was gone again. Turalyon only hoped she and her kin retuned before the rest of the Horde overwhelmed their tiny defense. Already waves of orcs were pouring in from the sides, and Turalyon knew his forces could not stand against the entire orc army, especially not here on an open field where the orcs could surround them and swarm them under. They would need support, and quickly. He just hoped the elves were as ready and as capable as Alleria made them sound.

  Ter'lij, one of Zul'jin's subordinates, grinned. He and his pack had smelled something unpleasant nearby and had followed their noses to a delicious sound, a single soft thump—thump on the forest floor below. A lone elf. Ter'lij had been charged with watching this path, which led toward the elven city, and keeping any elves from crossing it. Well, this was one elf who would go no farther.

  Lowering himself silently through the foliage, Ter'lij caught sight of his prey. The elf was moving quickly enough for one of its kind, and most likely other creatures would have thought it quiet, but to Ter'lij its passage was as loud as the thunder he heard rumbling near the forest's edge and its pace was easily surpassed. The elf wore a long brown cloak, the hood raised, and was leaning upon a long staff. An elder, then. Even better.

  Licking his lips with anticipation, Ter'lij motioned his pack to follow him down. Then he dropped from the trees, his curved blade in hand, and grinned at his victim and started in surprise as the elf tossed back his cloak and straightened with a grin of his own. The staff swung up and around, revealing a long blade at one end, and armor gleamed even in the shadows of the trees.