Wolfheart

7 Into the Forest

Haldrissa expected no word yet from Darnassus, but that did not mean that she remained idle in the meantime. She did not trust that the orcs were not already on the move. Thus it was that the very next day she had led another party out to investigate an area near the foothills east of the night elven camp Maestra’s Post. With her was Xanon, chosen for his sharp eyes. Denea had been left in command back at the fort, not something Haldrissa’s second had been happy about.

“As seniormost officer, it would behoove you to remain behind,” Denea had even suggested in her most courteous manner. “Just in case of trouble in the wilderness.”

Her point had had merit, but at the time Haldrissa had not been able to get past the thought that perhaps Denea had believed herself more capable of facing the rigors of the journey and any encounters during it. Haldrissa had declined the officer’s suggestion without hesitation. However, now, some time into the ride, the twinges Haldrissa felt made her occasionally wonder if she should have listened more.

But all thought of that vanished as Xanon returned with two other Sentinels from scouting the territory up ahead. Haldrissa had purposely chosen an obscure area less likely to be of interest to the Horde for the very reason that the enemy might have played on that reasoning. The commander had survived so long by learning to try to think like the enemy, however repulsive that might be to her at times. She had to do her best to expect the unexpected.

Of course, both Denea and Xanon had looked dubious when first informed where she intended to lead the party.

However, Xanon did not look so dubious now. In fact, his concerned expression made everyone who had been waiting—especially Haldrissa—sit straight and taut.

“What is it?” she asked the moment he was near.

“Best see,” he gasped, still exerted from the swift ride back. “This way!”

One brow raised at this curious reply, the commander waved the party to follow Xanon. The trained nightsabers leapt effortlessly and silently through the forest, dodging around trees and across uneven terrain with an agility that Haldrissa still admired after all these millennia. Each cat was in the prime of its life. For the first time the commander considered her previous mounts and the ends of their turbulent lives. While some nightsabers did perish in battle, more than a few had survived their last years crippled from previous injuries. It brought home again her own encroaching mortality.

The night elves kept a wary eye out, though thus far there was no indication as to what Xanon and the other pair had sighted. The male Sentinel hunched low as he rode, a sign of just how determined he was to get his commander to wherever they needed to be as quickly as possible. That boded ill, in her mind.

Then, deep into a dense part of the forest, amidst a small patch of winding hills, Xanon abruptly signaled for the party to slow to a trot. Haldrissa urged her mount alongside his, then leaned close.

“What . . . ?”

“Listen.”

She knew his ears were sharper than most, too, but, even taking that into account, the commander marveled that he heard anything. Even the nightsabers appeared not to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“I do not—” Haldrissa began, then paused. There was a very faint sound from far ahead. An odd, unsettling sound. It even had a strange rhythm to it, the same beat over and over and over.

“What is that?” one of the others murmured. “It sounds familiar. . . .”

“I want to see more.” Peering back at the party, she ordered, “The rest of you, keep back! Xanon and I will investigate from here on. If you are needed, we will try to signal.”

The rest of the Sentinels did not look pleased, but they obeyed. Xanon urged his nightsaber on, but at a much slower, more precise pace. Haldrissa made her mount match speed.

As they neared, Xanon readied his glaive. Haldrissa did the same.

The buzzing now dominated. It was a harsh, painful noise and was accompanied by a cracking sound. That sound, at least, the commander knew. It was the sound of wood breaking.

She now had a fairly good idea of what was going on, though the specifics of it still eluded her. Ever seeking expansion, the Horde had a voracious appetite for wood. They needed it for building, for their forges, for their growing fleets.

And that was why they most coveted Ashenvale.

“It would be wiser to go on foot from here,” Xanon whispered.

Nodding, Haldrissa dismounted, and then she and Xanon loosely tethered their cats. Highly intelligent, these nightsabers would obey the command to stay until called by one of the riders. In an emergency, it better served Haldrissa if the animals could quickly come to their aid.

Xanon once more took the lead, the younger night elf crouching low. The wind shifted toward them. While good in that it kept their scent from the orcs, it also brought a stench that answered some of Haldrissa’s other questions.

The smell included a combination of fuel and steam. Those were signs of a goblin machine. Several machines, judging by the potent and often suffocating odor. Goblins were almost the antithesis of night elves; they believed in the might of machines over nature and had little, if any, respect for the latter.

“There!” Xanon rasped, thrusting a finger to the northeast.

At first Haldrissa thought some armored giant stalked the forest, a giant intent on carnage. What in some ways resembled a glaive with far, far sharper, curved points spun madly at the end of one arm. The other arm ended in a monstrous claw with four digits that at that moment seized the trunk of a thick oak. The giant then thrust the spinning blades at the tree.

To her horror, the blades cut into the wood as if it were water. Within seconds the mighty oak teetered, its life already gone.

But the giant figure was not satisfied with just that. It shifted position and began slicing the tree into smaller pieces.

Only then did Haldrissa see that atop the head, there was a seat . . . and in that seat, a short figure with green skin, long ears, and a sadistic smile manipulated levers.

“A shredder,” she murmured back to Xanon. “A goblin shredder!” There had been reports of the machines being brought in farther east, but to find one this close was disturbing.

“Wait,” Xanon whispered. “Keep listening.”

Before she could ask why, the buzzing arose from another location. As the two looked, a second shredder trundled into view. The silver and crimson mechanism paused. The upper half turned to one side as no true creature could without breaking its spine. In the seat and half-shielded by the armored front, another goblin surveyed the nearest trees. Choosing one, he tugged on a lever, and the spinning blades began their diabolical work.

Haldrissa silently swore at such sacrilege. She started to rise—only to have sense make her duck down just as a third and fourth shredder stepped into sight.

“They have a major lumber operation in progress here,” the male night elf told her. “I counted two more before. They are ripping apart this area of Ashenvale as if the trees had no feelings, no importance!”

“Six shredders.” Haldrissa did some calculations. “We can handle that many—”

And then the scene became an even more horrible nightmare. Another shredder joined the others, followed by another and another and another. . . . More than a score quickly filled their view, and yet the numbers continued to grow.

“By Elune!” gasped Xanon. “This is worse than I imagined!”

“We must leave!” returned Haldrissa, beginning to back away. The two Sentinels, their eyes ever on the horror, retreated, heading for the area where they had left their mounts.

The wind shifted direction again. A thick smell of fuel and steam assailed Haldrissa from their left.

“Beware!” she cried, shoving Xanon away from that direction.

The shredder came crashing through the trees and brush, the metallic claws ripping away branches that blocked the path. High-pitched maniacal laughter cut above the sound of spinning blades. With a death’s-head grin, the goblin adjusted the levers.

The blades came at Haldrissa. She was forced to dodge toward her blind side and thus stumbled. The blades just barely grazed her shoulder. However, despite that and the fact that Haldrissa wore plate armor, the shredder was still able to cut through the metal and rip a tiny but painful gash in her flesh.

The wound, though shallow, startled the commander enough that she again made for a tempting target. The upper half of the shredder turned toward her. Another wild laugh escaped the goblin as he maneuvered the whirring blades.

The Sentinels’ only good fortune thus far lay in that this goblin had moved far ahead of the rest and, because of the din created by the destruction of the forest, their struggle went unheard. Haldrissa could not hope for that to continue, though. At the very least, she and Xanon had to escape.

A whirling glaive flew by her. It came within a yard of the goblin before the other arm deflected it. Xanon’s weapon went skimming wildly through the air, at last sinking deep into a nearby trunk.

The attack had at least served to give Haldrissa breathing space. In that time, she jumped out of reach, then readied her own glaive.

The goblin shifted levers. The shredder marched toward her. The one arm continued to act as shield while the other with the spinning, toothy blades stretched forth.

Haldrissa took the measure of the shredder, then, compensating for her impaired vision, threw. Her toss looked as if it had gone wide at first, but as it passed the grinning goblin, it arced around. The commander kept her expression frozen, afraid of giving warning.

But she had underestimated both the goblin and his device. The squat creature tugged a lever, and the protecting arm twisted over his head in a manner that would have been impossible for a living creature.

With a harsh clang, her glaive rebounded off of the arm and away from the struggle. Haldrissa swore.

“C’mere, purple!” the goblin mocked. “Lemme give you a hug!”

The arms swung toward her from opposite directions, seeking to pen her between them so that the blades could do their work. Haldrissa dropped to the ground, barely avoiding being beheaded.

She fully expected the goblin to immediately compensate, but instead the arms began flailing madly. As the commander pushed herself up, she saw Xanon scrambling up the side of the shredder. He did not have his glaive, but the dagger in his left hand was more than sufficient for dealing with the shredder’s operator—if the male night elf could get a little closer.

The goblin was having none of that. The flailing was accompanied by the swiveling of the torso, all in an attempt to knock Xanon free. While it had not succeeded in that respect, it did keep the Sentinel from using his blade.

Aware that trying to signal the others now might also alert all the goblins and whatever other elements of the Horde were nearby of the Alliance presence, Haldrissa tried to think of some way to quickly put an end to their lone foe. She peered around. Her own glaive was too far away, but Xanon’s remained stuck in the nearby tree. She darted for the weapon, hoping that her companion could keep the goblin distracted long enough—and without dying in the process.

But though she reached the glaive without difficulty, pulling it free proved a much more troublesome task. The glaive had buried itself deep, and even though Haldrissa tugged as hard as she could—all the while gritting her teeth as her effort made her wound sting much greater—it would not come free.

Buzzing filled her ears. She glanced in the direction of the other shredders, but they were not even in sight . . . and therefore not the source of the increased buzzing.

Haldrissa ducked.

The blades of the lone shredder tore into the tree. Splinters and sawdust rained down upon the night elf.

A screeching sound tore at her eardrums. As she rolled aside, she saw that the shredder’s blades had met the glaive. The resultant collision had made both the shredder and the tree shake violently.

Swearing, the goblin adjusted several levers. The other arm came up and braced against the trunk. With amazing strength, the shredder used the leverage to push free.

Haldrissa saw no sign of Xanon and had to assume the worst. With his glaive ruined, she surveyed the area for her own.

The damaged tree creaked ominously. Haldrissa stepped back but saw that the danger was not as imminent as she had thought. The tree shook slightly, then stilled.

The goblin adjusted the levers, then moved in on her again. As he did, Haldrissa finally caught a glimpse of Xanon. He lay sprawled next to another tree. She could not see any sign of injury, but the stillness of the body did not give her much hope.

However, seeing Xanon stirred a desperate plan. The commander hoped that she judged the damage to the tree correctly, or else she was about to throw herself into the jaws of death.

“Xanon!” she roared. “To his left!”

The goblin reacted accordingly. Straining at the levers, he made the torso spin around to confront the threat he believed there.

Had Haldrissa attempted to leap up at him, he would have had more than enough time to notice her and prevent success. Instead, the night elf ran behind the damaged tree.

The goblin saw that the male Sentinel still lay unconscious or was dead. He pulled a lever, and the shredder started to turn back to her.

Bracing herself, Haldrissa threw her body against the back of the tree. The collision shook her to the bone, but she heard the wood give a satisfying snap.

The tree toppled.

Haldrissa made a silent prayer to Elune.

She had judged both the damage and the angle true. The huge tree fell toward the shredder.

The goblin looked up as the shadow covered him. He frantically adjusted the levers, raising both arms in an attempt to stop the tree. However, when it became clear that the arms would not stop the tree in time, the goblin pushed himself out of his seat.

He did not make it.

The tree reduced the shredder and its handler to a squat ruin. The tanks that fueled the mechanism ruptured.

The shredder exploded, sending metal fragments and bits of goblin flying everywhere.

Even before the tree had struck, Haldrissa had headed for Xanon. She did not want to leave her officer if there was even a chance he lived.

“Xanon!” the commander hissed. “Xanon!”

He did not stir, but Haldrissa saw that the male Sentinel did at least breathe. There was a heavy bruise on the side of his head, and blood stained his face and arm.

With no other option, Haldrissa wrapped her arm around the other night elf’s upper torso and, ignoring the pain in her arm, dragged him from the site. Peering over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of one of the other shredders starting to move toward the ruined one. So low to the ground, Haldrissa believed that its operator could not yet see her or her burden, but she nonetheless hurried as best she could. If the pair was spotted, they would never escape.

A glint caught her eye. Grimacing, Haldrissa set down Xanon long enough to retrieve her glaive. It meant the cost of a few valuable seconds, but without the glaive there would be absolutely no chance of defending the two of them.

The sound of encroaching shredders increased. There were no cries of discovery, though. The commander counted on the hope that the goblins would focus on their own, thinking that perhaps the operator had miscalculated while trying to bring down the tree rather than that he had been sadistically hunting down night elf prey. She only needed that false belief to last long enough for her to reach the cats.

Dragging Xanon, Haldrissa finally paused at a spot several yards away and out of sight. She let out a low whistle.

Her heart pounded as she waited. Finally, her mount trotted into view. The nightsaber rubbed its muzzle against her side.

The second cat joined them. It sniffed Xanon and let out a low growl. Haldrissa shushed it, then settled the unmoving officer over the creature’s back. When that was done, she mounted her own animal.

Behind her, a commotion arose as the goblins investigated what Haldrissa hoped still passed for an accident. Exhaling deeply, the commander urged the nightsabers forward.

She did not relax in the least until they were far away. Haldrissa counted the seconds until she reached the rest of the party, all of whom eyed her arrival with trepidation.

“Take care of him!” she ordered two of the others. As they took control of Xanon, Haldrissa faced the rest. “It is worse than we had imagined! More mechanized goblin shredders than I had thought could exist! They are already ripping apart the forest over here. We can assume that they are doing the same elsewhere, I am sorry to say.”

“We should charge in and take care of those little vermin!” snarled one Sentinel. “We should be able to handle such scum!”

Some of the others issued their agreement by raising their glaives, but Haldrissa immediately cut off any notion of an attack. “There will be no suicidal attack! We ride back now! This information must be passed on to Darnassus!”

“And then we just wait?” blurted one of the others.

“Of course not! Enough questions!” To the two night elves handling Xanon, she commanded, “Secure him well! We will have to ride hard!” Haldrissa paused as she saw their faces.

“He is dead,” the nearest Sentinel informed her and the rest. “For some minutes. The wound to his head was too grave.” To emphasize her point, she tilted Xanon’s head until the party could see the blackening bruise and increased blood flow, something to which Haldrissa, caught up in the escape, had not been able to pay attention.

The commander scowled. Another death at the Horde’s hand. Though her body ached, her pulse pounded.

“They will pay. They will pay for all the deaths . . . including those of the forest.”

Haldrissa urged her mount on, the others following in her wake. She glanced behind her. The body of Xanon, secured well, rode with them—the dead rider very likely a harbinger of things to come, she knew.