Tides of Darkness

CHAPTER TEN

"There, Thane! Look there!"

Kurdran Wildhammer wheeled Sky'ree about and peered down where Farand pointed. Yes, there! His sharp eyes spotted movement, and he tapped Sky'ree lightly with his heels. His gryphon mount cawed softly in response before tucking in her wings and diving down, the wind tugging at them both as they descended.

Yes, now he could make out figures traipsing through the forest below. Trolls? They were as green as the forest trolls his people hated, certainly, their skin blending in among the foliage, but they walked the ground rather than skimming the branches. And their footsteps were too heavy, too careless, to be the trolls, who knew the ways of the forest almost as well as an elf might. No, these creatures were something different. Kurdran caught a clear view of one as it passed through a small clearing, and frowned. Heavily built but big, as big as a human, with thick muscles and long legs. And heavy weapons, massive axes and hammers and maces. Whatever the creatures were, they were equipped for war.

He pulled back on the reins and Sky'ree lashed her tail, reared back on her leonine haunches, spread her wings and leaped upward once more, clear of the trees and back into the sky. Farand and the others were circling, their weathered skin blending into the tawny pelts of their mounts, and Kurdran rose to join them, his braided beard and hair streaming behind him, enjoying the sensation of flight even under these grim circumstances. Off in the distance he could see the massive stone carving of an eagle at rest, peering alertly and confidently out at the world, which was his own home and the heart of his domain. Aerie Peak. Yet the sight did not fill him with the usual pride and joy, for it seemed far too close for comfort given the activities occurring below him.

"Ye see, Thane?" Farand asked. "I told ye! Uglies in our forest!"

"Aye, ye were right," Kurdran told the scout. "They are ugly, and they are intruding. There be a lot o' them, though. And they'll be hard to hit as long as they stay beneath the trees."

"Are we just to let them traipse across our lands, then?" one of the other scouts demanded.

"Oh no," Kurdran replied. He grinned at the other Wildhammer dwarves. "We'll just have to be scaring them out into the open. Come on, lads, let's get back home. I have a few ideas. But don't worry, we'll soon be making it clear to those greenskins that they're not welcome in the Hinterlands."

"You there! Paladin!"

Turalyon glanced up as the elf slowed to a stop beside him. He hadn't seen the ranger approach, but that didn't surprise him. In the past few weeks he had learned how quickly the elves could come and go, and how silently. Alleria, in particular, delighted in startling him by suddenly speaking in his ear when he hadn't even realized she was back in camp.

"Yes?" He had been cleaning his gear but he paused respectfully.

"The orcs are in the Hinterlands," the elf reported. "And they're meeting up with the trolls there." That last was said with utter disgust. Turalyon had learned that the elves hated the forest trolls, and apparently the feeling was mutual. It made sense—both were woodlands creatures, and the forests here were not big enough for two such races. They had been enemies for thousands of years, too, ever since the elves had driven the trolls from part of the forest and established their kingdom there on that conquered land.

"You're certain they're allies and not just crossing paths?" Turalyon asked, setting his armor off to the side. He rubbed absently at his chin. If the orcs and the trolls really had formed a partnership, that could be trouble.

The ranger snorted in reply. "Of course I'm sure! I heard them talking. They've got a pact of some sort." The elf actually looked concerned for the first time. "They're planning on striking at Aerie Peak — and then moving up into Quel'Thalas."

Ah, that explained his agitation. Quel'Thalas was the elves' own homeland, and the trolls hated them. If they'd joined the Horde it made sense they'd direct the orcs there.

"I'll let Lothar know," Turalyon assured him, standing up. "We'll stop them before they can get anywhere near your homeland." The elf nodded, though he didn't look convinced, and turned away, jogging back into the trees and disappearing once again. But Turalyon wasn't watching. He was already making his way toward the command tent.

He found Lothar inside, along with Khadgar, Terenas, and a few others.

"The orcs are targeting Aerie Peak," he announced as he entered. Everyone turned toward him, and Turalyon saw several eyebrows raise in surprise. "One of the rangers just told me," he explained. "The orcs have allied with the forest trolls and they're planning to strike Aerie Peak."

Terenas nodded and turned to the everpresent map covering the tent's large table. "Makes sense," he admitted, tapping Aerie Peak 's location. "The Wildhammer dwarves are strong enough to put up a fight so they'd not want to risk an attack from behind. And if the trolls are with them, they'd want the dwarves out of the Hinterlands altogether."

Lothar was staring at the map as well. "It'll be tough taking the fight to them in the forest," he commented. "We can't deploy properly in there, and we'll be forced to leave our ballistae behind." He rubbed a hand over his forehead, thinking. "Then again, they'll not be able to marshal their forces well either. We can pick off smaller groups of orcs and not worry about them sending the full army to any one location."

"Plus the dwarves would make strong allies," Khadgar pointed out. "If we help them they may agree to help us in return. They'd make excellent scouts and first—strike units."

"We could certainly use them and their gryphons," Lothar agreed. He glanced up, caught Turalyon's eye, and nodded. "Rally the troops," he ordered. "We're heading into the forest to save the dwarves."

"By the ancestors, there are a lot of them! They're like fleas, only bigger and better—armed!" Kurdran cursed as he studied the scene below. He and a full hunting party were on the wing, wheeling high above to get a better view of these new greenskins. And what he saw wasn't good.

The creatures were marching fast and were already only a day's travel from Aerie Peak itself. At first he'd only seen a score or so, but then he'd noticed another group not far away, and a third beyond that. The others had reported much the same. Though these greenskins were spread out in groups of twenty or so, there were more groupings than they could count. Wildhammer dwarves were not afraid of anything, but if those creatures were half as tough as they looked they could crush the Peak by sheer numbers alone.

Not that they'd sit by and let that happen. Kurdran glanced around, and each of his dwarves nodded in turn. "Good," he told them, raising his horn to his lips. "Wildhammers, attack!" He blew a blast on the horn and then slung it back at his side, already guiding Sky'ree into position with his knees. She responded with a fierce cry of her own, spreading her wings and rising up before folding them back in for the exhilarating dive. They plummeted down, and as they did Kurdran unlimbered his stormhammer, raising the massive weapon high.

But for the moment his targets were not the greenskins themselves. Instead he struck out, pounding the nearest tree solidly across the trunk. The impact sent leaves and berries and needles raining down, which startled the bewildered greenskins. Kurdran struck out at two more trees, and those sent cones and nuts down on the creatures, hitting hard enough to leave welts. The greenskins ducked, raising their hands to protect their eyes, but the onslaught continued as the Wildhammers struck tree after tree, dropping foliage and fruits and nuts in a veritable shower. The greenskins did not know what to make of all this, but they didn't like it, and they responded by taking the simplest solution—since the trees weren't safe, they left them behind, jogging away from the threatening foliage and out into the nearest small clearing.

Which was exactly what the Wildhammers had been waiting for.

With a loud warcry Kurdran led the way, his hammer at the ready. The first greenskin had time to glance up and half—raise a large axe before Kurdran's hurled, lightning—wreathed stormhammer caught him full across the jaw, shattering the bone with a thunderclap and sending the creature flying. "Ye're too ugly to be in me forest, ye bastard!" he shouted as the creature fell. The hammer returned and Kurdran loosed it again, the blow smashing a second greenskin, and then Sky'ree's arc drove her back up and she raised her wings to carry them back out of range before wheeling about for a second pass. The rest of his lads were striking as well, and the forest was filled with hoots and hollers, curses and insults as the gryphons darted past.

Whatever these creatures were, they were not easily frightened. As he came around again Kurdran saw that the remaining greenskins had their weapons up and ready now, and they gathered into a tighter cluster so the dwarves could not strike as easily. They had not counted on the aerial advantage, however. Kurdran whirled his hammer overhead, and let it fly. The heavy stone had struck a greenskin right in the temple, toppling it with a loud crack like an Ironforge pistol, and as the creature fell it pushed against two others, who stepped forward to avoid being entangled.

"Ha! That's taken ye down a peg!" Kurdran crowed at the fallen creatures. He was on them before they could realize their mistake, his stormhammer back in his hand, but let Sky'ree finish the fallen creatures, her powerful front claws laying one low and her sharp hooked beak tearing apart a second even as her wings stunned a third.

The skirmish was over quickly. Whatever these greenskins were, they were slow and not used to facing an airborne attack. And Kurdran and his people were experts at striking those on the ground. The creatures had managed to land a few blows, and some of his dwarves had wounds to tend, but they had lost no one and left no one unharmed behind them. Only a few of the greenskins in this particular grouping had survived, and only then by fleeing back under the trees.

"That's taught them to look up," Kurdran pointed out, and his dwarves laughed. "Back to the Peak then, lads. We'll send out another team soon to take out another o' their little clusters. Mayhap then they'll learn to give Aerie Peak a wider berth."

"Get ready," Lothar whispered. He had slowed his horse to a mere walk, since anything faster risked running into trees or being unhorsed by low branches, and now he drew his greatsword and held it before him, his shield raised on his other arm. "They should be close by."

Turalyon nodded and hefted his warhammer, riding to his commander's back left as usual. Khadgar rode beside him, the three of them forming a classic cavalry triangle, and though the mage's hands were empty Turalyon had learned to respect the magics his friend could wield in battle. Straining his eyes, Turalyon tried to pierce the gloom of the trees and see their quarry. Somewhere around here…

"There!" He pointed ahead and to the right, beyond Khadgar, and his two companions followed his gesture. After a moment Lothar nodded. It took the wizard a minute longer before he too had noticed the flicker of movement against the trees in that direction, a motion too low to be a bird and too steady to be a snake or insect or whatever else infested such forests. No, that flicker could only be from something the size of a man walking through the forest, and the fact that it kept repeating meant either the same figure was circling back repeatedly or it was a large group, The fact that it was barely visible meant the figures were the same color as their surroundings. All of which added up to one thing: orcs.

"Got them," Lothar agreed quietly. He glanced back at Khadgar. "Let the others know," he instructed, and the young—old mage nodded and backed his horse away quietly. "Meantime, we'll keep watch," the Champion told Turalyon, who nodded. "And if they look like they're getting away, well, we'll just have to make sure they've got reason to turn and come back this way again, eh?"

"Yes, sir!" Turalyon grinned and patted the haft of his warhammer. He was ready. He still got nervous going into battle, but he no longer worried about freezing up or turning tail. He'd faced the orcs once already, and he knew he could do it again.

"We've lost Tearlach," Iomhar reported. Kurdran stared at him in surprise. "Oengus as well," the Wildhammer fighter continued. "And two more are too winded to continue fighting."

"What happened?" Kurdran demanded. The other dwarf looked embarrassed for a second, then turned belligerent.

"The greenskins, tha's what!" he replied. "They were ready for us! When we dropped toward them they started throwing spears! Then they scattered so we couldn't target them amid the trees." He shook his head. "Your strike was lucky, and took them by surprise. They've learned, though, the ugly buggers, and fast."

Kurdran nodded. "Not stupid, these greenskins," he agreed. "And more o' them than we thought." He studied the map of the Hinterlands spread out before him, and the markers he'd been using to show where the greenskins were marching. The map was almost completely covered. "Well, we'll just have to hit them afore they can react. Tell the lads to come in fast and hard, and to stay beyond the greenskins' throws. They're working against gravity and we're working with it, so we've got the advantage."

Iomhar nodded, but before he could say anything Beathan burst in. "Trolls!" he shouted, collapsing onto a nearby stool. His left arm hung useless at his side, still bleeding from a deep cut near the shoulder. "We were diving on a party of those greenskins when a pack of forest trolls jumped us! Took out Moray and Seaghdh with their first blows and knocked Alpin and Lachtin from their gryphons." He indicated his wound. "I took a nasty cut from one's axe but managed to dodge the second blow, or it'd have taken me head off."

"Damn!" Kurdran growled. "They're teamed with the trolls then, greenskin and greenskin! And those trolls'll keep us from using the trees!" He tugged at his mustache in frustration. "We need something to even the odds, and fast, lads, or they'll be swarming us over like ants on a beetle."

As if to answer his statement a third dwarf appeared to report. But this one, a scout named Dermid, wasn't wounded. And he looked pleased rather than worried.

"Humans!" he announced happily. "A great mass o' them! They say they've come to help us fight off the orcs—that's what they call the greenskins."

"Ancestors be praised," Kurdran rumbled. "If they can keep these orcs busy enough to forget their new tactics, we can strike them down from above again." He grinned as he hefted his stormhammer. "Aye, and we'll be taking care of any trolls that get close, too. They may control the trees but we rule the skies, and our gryphons will tear them apart an' they come within reach." He turned and stalked toward the door, already whistling for Sky'ree. "Wildhammers, let's fly!" he shouted, and behind him the other dwarves cheered and hastened to obey.

"Now!" Lothar spurred his mount forward and charged across the clearing, bursting upon the pack of orcs. They whirled about, clearly surprised—they had been busy watching the skies, and many of them were holding spears instead of their usual axes and hammers. One thought to throw its spear at Lothar but the Champion was too close by then, and his massive sword swept out, shearing through spear and arm together, then looping back and removing the orc's head before its severed arm had even hit the ground.

Turalyon was right beside him, and his hammer struck an orc and shattered its chest. His second blow glanced off an orc's arm, which was enough to make the green—skinned creature drop its axe. He simply struck it in the head this time, and it crumpled without a sound.

But Turalyon did hear a strange noise, somewhere between a cough and a laugh, and glanced up. A tall figure, taller than an orc and more narrowly built, dropped from the trees in front of him, a spear held in its large, long—fingered hands. Its eyes were sharp and narrow, its features narrow as well, and it grinned at him as it jabbed with its spear, showing rows of pointed teeth. A troll!

Turalyon raised his shield, blocking the spear thrust even though it hammered his shield back against him hard enough to leave his arm weak. He responded with a fierce blow from his hammer, staggering the troll but not stopping it. The creature glided forward again, spear at the ready, and Turalyon spurred his horse forward, bracing his shield just before it smashed into the troll's face and chest. The troll had not expected that crude an attack and took the blow full—force, reeling back and shaking its head to clear it. Turalyon didn't give it time to recover, however. His hammer took it in the jaw and dropped the troll to the ground in a heap.

Pleased with himself, Turalyon glanced up just in time to see a second troll step out onto a nearby branch. Its eyes were narrowed in hate and its spear was pulled back to throw. Turalyon knew at once that the weapon was aimed at him, and that he was not strong enough to block it or fast enough to dodge it. He prepared himself for the worst, closing his eyes and listening for the sound of the flying spear against the rising wind.

Instead he heard a strange, shrill shriek, mingled with a deep bellow then a massive thunderclap, and behind that a cry of sudden pain. Opening his eyes again Turalyon saw an amazing sight. The troll was falling from its perch, hands still clutching at the side of its face, which appeared to be crushed. Above it hovered a majestic creature, one Turalyon had heard of but never seen before. It was built like a lion, with the same tawny fur, but instead of a feline head it had a fierce bird's visage, the beak wide and emitting the shriek he had already heard. Its front legs ended in deadly talons but its rear legs had thick cat—like pads and a long tail swayed behind it. Great wings were flared out along its sides, and feathers covered its head and trailed off along its shoulders. And a man rode it like a steed.

No, not a man, Turalyon saw, though of course he already knew. He had heard of the Wildhammer dwarves, though he had not met one before. Taller and leaner than their Bronzebeard cousins, the Wildhammers were still shorter and stouter than a man, with heavy chest and thick corded arms. They wielded stormhammers, like the massive weapon even now returning to this dwarf's hand, and clearly that had caused the troll's demise.

The dwarf saw Turalyon looking at him and grinned, raising his hammer in salute. Turalyon raised his own hammer in return, then spurred his horse forward and targeted another orc. With the dwarves circling overhead he no longer worried about an attack from above, leaving him free to concentrate on the Horde. The orcs, on the other hand, had to worry about attacks from every direction except beneath their feet, leaving them confused and unnerved. And as Lothar had hoped the trees forced the orcs to move in small groups instead of a single mass, allowing the Alliance soldiers to pick them off one cluster at a time.

Hours later, Kurdran welcomed the human leaders into his home. Their commander was a big man, even bigger than most, with a good dwarf—like beard and a long braid even if the top of his head was almost bare. He carried himself like a warrior born, and Kurdran could tell the man had seen more than his share of battles, yet those blue eyes remained alert and the golden lion head on his shield and breastplate still gleamed. The younger one, woefully unbearded, seemed less sure of himself, but Zoradan said he'd seen him use that big hammer almost as well as a dwarf. There was something else about the lad, a sense of calm, that reminded Kurdran of his shaman. Perhaps the lad was a shaman himself, or otherwise in touch with the elements or the spirits? Certainly the third one, the violet—robed man with the short, scruffy white beard but the young man's walk, he was a wizard, that was plain enough. And then there was the elven lass, lovely and strong and lithe, as they all were, with her green and her bow and her laughing eyes. Kurdran had rarely met such interesting people, and he would have been happy to do under any circumstances. Right now he was even more pleased to make their acquaintance.

"Greetings, laddies—and lass!" he told them, gesturing to the chairs and stools and cushions scattered around the room. "Ye are welcome indeed! We feared those greenskins—the ones you call orcs—would overrun our homes, they were so many! But your arrival put an end to that, and together we'll be driving them from the Hinterlands! I am in your debt."

The big warrior sat on a stool near Kurdran's own chair, idly adjusting the massive sword slung across his back. "You lead the Wildhammers?" he asked.

"I am Kurdran Wildhammer," Kurdran replied. "I am chief thane, so aye, they will go where I lead."

"Good." The warrior nodded. "I am Anduin Lothar, former Knight of Stormwind and now commander of the Alliance forces." He explained about the Horde, and about Stormwind's fate. "Will you join us?"

Kurdran frowned and tugged at his moustache. "You say they be out to conquer all the land?" Lothar nodded. "And they came in great black iron boats?" Another nod. "Then they have been through Khaz Modan," he decided, shaking his head. "We've not heard from our kin in Ironforge for many weeks. I had wondered why. This explains it."

"They conquered the mines and used the iron ore to make those ships," the wizard said.

"Aye." Kurdran bared his teeth. "We Wildhammers have had many quarrels with the Bronzebeard clan over the years—it is why me people left Khaz Modan at all. But still they are our cousins, our kin. And these foul creatures, this Horde, attacked them. And now it has attacked us. Only your timely aid saved us from suffering our cousins' fate." He pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "Aye, we will join you! We must be striking back at these orcs, until this Horde canna threaten anyone!" He stood and extended his hand. "Ye have the Wildhammers' aid."

Lothar stood as well, and gravely accepted the clasp. "Thank you," was all he said, but it was enough.

"At least we have driven them from the Hinterlands," the clean—faced youth pointed out. "Your home is safe."

"That it is," Kurdran agreed. "For now. But where will these orcs be going next? Will they turn back toward the Hillsbrad? Or up toward Capital City? Or be heading north to join the rest o' their foul kin?"

Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say, for suddenly his new allies were all leaping to their feet. "What did you say?" the elven lass demanded. "About the north?"

"That they might join the rest o' their kind?" Kurdran asked, puzzled. She nodded quickly and he shrugged. "My scouts say we saw but a fraction of this Horde here. The rest turned north, skirting our forests, and continued on toward the mountains." He studied their faces. "Ye didna know this?"

The clean—faced youth and the mage were shaking their heads, but already the older warrior was cursing. "It was a feint!" he said, almost spitting the words. "And we fell for it!"

"A feint?" Kurdran frowned. "Me home was at risk! This was no mere ploy!"

But this Lothar shook his head. "No, the threat was real," he agreed. "But whoever commands the Horde is smart. He knew we would step in to aid you here. He took the rest of his forces north, and left a portion to slow us down. Now he's got distance on us."

"And he's heading for Quel'Thalas!" the elven lass cried. "We have to warn them!"

Lothar nodded. "We'll rally the troops at once and set off again. If we move fast—"

But the lass cut him off. "There's no time!" she insisted. "You said yourself the Horde has distance on us. We've lost days already! And gathering the troops will only slow us down further." She shook her head. "I'll go myself."

"No." The voice was quiet but the tone brooked no resistance. "You'll not go alone," Lothar told her, ignoring her glare. "Turalyon, take the rest of the cavalry and half the troops. You're in charge. Khadgar, you go with him. I want the Alliance present to help defend Quel'Thalas." He turned back toward Kurdran, who was impressed. This man knew how to lead! "There will still be orcs here in the forest," he warned, "and we can't risk letting them get behind us as well as before us. We'll stay and make sure the forest is completely clean, then we'll move forward and rejoin the others."

Kurdran nodded. "I thank ye for your aid," he replied formally. "And when the Hinterlands are once again secure, my warriors and I will be accompanying ye north to deal with the rest of this Horde."

"Thank you." Lothar bowed, then turned toward the elven lass, the clean—faced youth, and the wizard. "Are you still here? Get moving—every second you waste puts the Horde one second closer to Quel'Thalas." The three bowed and quickly exited the room. Kurdran didn't envy them their task, chasing an army and trying desperately to pass it and warn the elves of its approach. He just hoped they got there in time.