Wolfheart

19 Silverwing

Silverwing Outpost had had no news in two days from the nearest other outposts, and that worried Su’ura Swiftarrow. She had come from Silverwing Grove at the behest of the outpost’s commander, only to find that the other officer had been slain in an ambush shortly before Su’ura’s arrival. The ambush had also taken out the second-in-command. Su’ura had not intended to stay, but the only other Sentinel officer was too inexperienced.

She had dispatched two hippogryph riders, one to the next nearest outpost and the other to Commander Haldrissa. From one of the two there should have been some word. Either that, or the riders should have returned with warning of some catastrophe.

But the riders had not returned and Su’ura suspected that they would not. Silverwing Outpost was on its own in the battle against the Horde.

She strode along the edge of the outpost, eyeing the mist that was fast rising. It could not be blamed on Fallen Sky Lake to the south, not when it was coming from Horde-held lands.

A low rumble of warning rose up from behind her. She did not show any surprise, aware of what kept pace with her.

“Easy,” Su’ura said to the huge black nightsaber with her. The beast wore golden brown armor with purple gems over its head and sides. The night elf herself was also fully armored, as were all those on duty, though her shoulder areas were more decorated with fine gold bands over the silver. Those who thought the armor more ornamental than useful had discovered, if they were orcs or other foes, that it protected her quite well while she was gutting them.

The hoot of an owl seized her attention as the growl of the nightsaber had not. The outpost commander looked up to the roof of the main structure, where a soot-colored owl perched. The bird peered into the forest ahead, then abruptly abandoned its position. It descended to a waiting Su’ura, who stretched out her arm so that it had a place to alight.

“What is it, Hutihu?” she asked grimly. “Where?”

In response, the owl hooted once, then swiveled its head slightly toward a particular part of the forest. Su’ura followed its gaze expectantly.

The sentries at the outpost’s edge stiffened as a figure slipped out of the brush. They only calmed when it was clear it was one of their own . . . so to speak.

The figure who returned to Silverwing belonged to a group that was not exactly favored by most Sentinels, but it had its uses, and in Su’ura’s eyes some members had more than proven their loyalty. In fact, the one approaching now was so trusted by Su’ura that she had risen up to a level of command, now serving as supply officer.

Of course, her role as a scout—for lack of a better word—along with related unofficial duties, was still the most important aspect of her use.

“Illiyana Moonblaze,” Su’ura solemnly greeted her. “You are back sooner than I expected . . . and hoped.”

The other night elf was a distinct contrast to Su’ura, not to mention most of the others there. It was not just that she wore a dark corseted outfit that reminded Su’ura more of a human buccaneer, but that Illiyana radiated a presence in some manner akin to that of a wild pirate. As tradition went, those of Illiyana’s “calling” were not respected much more than pirates even though they had been a part of night elf life for years, but the changing times had more and more found places for such as her among the trusted fighters of the Alliance.

Illiyana sheathed a pair of longswords she utilized in place of a glaive. With a wry smile, she asked, “You did not miss me?”

“Enough jesting. What did you see?”

“More to the point, what did I not see? And what did I hear?”

The commander looked at her with some exasperation. Hutihu made a sound that echoed her annoyance.

The wry grin faded a bit. “All right. First, it is so thick out there, you cannot see more than a few feet in front. We do not go charging into it, it should be to our advantage.”

“So we stand our ground.”

“Unfortunately, it is moving toward us.”

Su’ura had already thought so, but hearing that fact verified still struck her now. “You could have said that right away. How fast?”

“Fast enough that it is good you have got everyone in position already.”

As bad as that, the commander thought. “You said you heard something?”

“Buzzing. Like a great mass of wasps. There is another thing: the more you go into the mist, the more it stinks of oil, as if someone lit a bunch of lamps and left them burning.”

Su’ura knew what that, combined with the buzzing, meant. “Goblins. There are goblins out there.”

Illiyana appeared unimpressed. “The night we cannot handle a bunch of goblins is the night Ashenvale should fall.”

“Be careful what you say,” snapped the commander, although she was not overly concerned about the goblins, either. What much more bothered her was what would be marching with them.

She peered upward at the tall trees ahead. The mist was not quite thick enough to obscure the tops. Su’ura had sent scouts high above to see if they could spot anything, but the forest below had been as if under a thick blanket through which the crowns popped like islands.

“Where are the others?” Illiyana suddenly asked her.

It was a question for which Su’ura had been waiting but had not wanted to answer. “You are the only one who returned.”

For once, Illiyana looked a little unsettled. “‘The only one’?”

There had been three others who had fanned out into the mist with Illiyana. Based on their destinations, Su’ura had expected them back earlier. The fact that they had not returned yet meant that they were not returning at all.

It also meant that the enemy was even closer than originally anticipated.

“You encountered no one, Illiyana?”

“I found some tracks that went deeper into the eastern mist, but they looked conspicuously visible and so I chose not to follow them.”

“Very likely a wise thing.” Illiyana was a seasoned tracker, more so than even the other three. They had probably decided to follow similar trails . . . just as the Horde’s own commanders had intended.

“Someone has gone through a lot of trouble,” Su’ura muttered, stroking Hutihu’s feathers.

The owl hooted agreement.

“Should I go and look for them?”

“No, I think that would be—”

She heard a slight buzzing from the forest. Illiyana, Hutihu, and the nightsaber all reacted with the same tensing of their bodies.

“That is what I heard,” Illiyana said.

“What is it?”

The dark-clad night elf sniffed the air. “Whatever it is, that oily stench comes with it.”

Everyone could smell the odor now. The nightsaber crouched, its nostrils flaring in disgust.

“Can goblins build nothing that does not stink?” the commander finally muttered. “Or that does not have evil purpose?”

“Fortunately, half the time, those contraptions either do not work or explode.”

“And the other half of the time, they wreak havoc on us.”

Illiyana could not argue with her there. Su’ura sent Hutihu to the trees, then stepped forward. “Archers to the ready! Lancers should mount! First lines form!”

In response to the last, Sentinels on foot took up positions just in front of the archers. Armed with glaives, they went down on one knee. Given the word, they would throw the deadly weapons simultaneously, cutting a deadly swath across anything in the glaives’ path.

Other Sentinels, some of them arming powerful ballistae called glaive throwers, stood ready behind the archers. In addition to the glaive on their gauntlets, several warriors also wore a second one slung on their backs. They were there to reinforce the front lines as needed.

A pack of armored nightsabers now stood awaiting the cue from their riders, whose senior officer watched Su’ura for the signal. Faces grim beneath their heavy helmets, the riders kept their long lances pointed skyward.

The buzzing grew stronger, more piercing. It was now accompanied by a grinding sound, one that Su’ura thought she now recognized. It said something for the stress of the situation that she had not made the connection earlier. After all, the goblins had been known to be cutting wood nearby. . . .

Then silence reigned again. The Sentinels stood uncertain. Officers looked to Su’ura, who watched and listened for the slightest hint of what was happening.

An odd, unsettling groan echoed through the forest. The night elves looked at one another, even Illiyana clearly perplexed concerning the source of the long, mournful sound. To Su’ura, it was almost as if the forest itself were groaning, for it seemed to come from several places at once.

The commander swallowed. She suddenly realized what that groan meant.

Looking to the eastern sky, she tried to see through the offending mist . . . some smokescreen created by the insidious devices of the goblins. Su’ura sought for one particular sight—and then spotted it in more than one place. It was so unbelievable that she could not help but stare at it for a moment, even despite the disaster it presaged.

“The trees . . . they are moving. . . .”

“Hmm?” Illiyana looked up in the hopes of trying to make sense of the other night elf’s odd words.

Through the mist, gargantuan stalks plunged toward the outpost, stalks topped by great crowns.

“Retreat!” Su’ura cried. “Watch out—”

Other Sentinels finally registered what was happening. Archers, lancers, foot soldiers . . . seasoned warriors everywhere now broke off and tried their best to rush as quickly to the rear as they were able.

The groan became deafening.

The first of the gigantic trees fell upon Silverwing.

Even as she fought to keep some semblance of organization in the outpost, Su’ura could not help but bitterly admire the tactic. The Horde had clearly scouted the area thoroughly, picking and choosing the right trees for their assault. They had chosen great leviathans whose path would be hardly impeded at all by the smaller ones nearest them.

The crash of the first tree shook the ground like an earthquake. It also crushed part of the main structure of the outpost and two nightsabers and their unfortunate riders. Worse, the gargantuan trunk did not stay where it landed but rather rolled south. In the process, it swept over three other Sentinels, crushing them like insects.

Even as the first tree did its foul work, a second hit. Another terrible convulsion rocked the night elves. Sentinels were thrown about. Nightsabers howled like newborn cubs as they sought escape that was not there.

A third tree came crashing. Somewhat to their fortune, the crown landed in that of the main tree in Silverwing, preventing the severed trunk from doing as much damage. The hapless defenders were still bombarded by falling foliage and cracked branches as big as one of their feline mounts.

Su’ura bent to help a stunned Sentinel. She had no idea where Illiyana had gone and could not blame the other night elf if she had fled. They could not fight trees. How did one fend off such a weapon?

Another incredible thud rocked Silverwing. The crash of timber warned that more of the outpost had been ruined. Worse, the shrieks of the badly injured multiplied.

She had counted four trees toppling toward the outpost, and four had fallen. Su’ura prayed that she had not miscounted, though she was hard-pressed to imagine where the Horde could have found a fifth to add to the onslaught. They had needed the gaps in the forest to ensure that their makeshift hammers would strike the target precisely.

Dust and wreckage from the crowns filled the air. Amidst it, Su’ura smelled a great increase in the oily stench created by the goblins. She also heard heavy thumps, as if some giant lumbered through the forest just beyond Silverwing.

“Re-form lines!” she shouted, wondering if anyone would not only hear but also bother to obey. “They are attacking!”

The thumping grew louder, accompanied by loud buzzing. The commander turned to the forest.

Two-legged goblin mechanisms entered Silverwing. They moved like drunk night elves, and one arm of each ended in a toothed, spinning blade.

Barely had the first of the shredders entered than a flight of arrows assailed them. Two goblins fell dead. One of the driverless machines spun around and crashed into a third.

Su’ura looked to see that some of the Sentinels had rallied to her cry. Behind the single row of archers, foot soldiers and lancers also attempted to regroup.

The drivers of the other shredders raised the second arm to shield themselves. Su’ura immediately took advantage of their tactical mistake.

“Huntresses! Charge!”

She had no idea how many there were, but the pack that coursed past her more than met her expectations. Her heart grew lighter. The Horde thought that they had dealt Silverwing a mortal blow, but they had obviously forgotten with whom they were dealing. The contingent here had learned to adapt at a moment’s notice.

More than a dozen heavily muscled cats raced at the shredders. The huntresses readied their shields and lowered their lances, the points straight ahead.

The pack charged into the shredders.

Distracted by the flight of arrows, most of the goblins saw the charge too late. A couple managed to get their whirling blades up. A nightsaber howled as a blade cut into its jaw.

But overall, the charge held. The lances, aimed with precision, pierced the shredders at the underarm—where they were most vulnerable—or simply managed to tip them backward. Loud crashes accompanied the shredders’ falls.

As per their training, the huntresses immediately retreated. However, as they did, a flight of arrows launched from the east struck.

Four nightsabers immediately dropped, followed by that many more within the first few breaths. Their shields being of less effect when held behind them, the huntresses suffered even more. In seconds, the pack and their riders were decimated.

A battle horn blew. A lusty roar resounded from the forest.

Orcs flowed through the woods into Silverwing. The first line fell nearly to a warrior, shot down by the expert aim of the outpost’s remaining archers. Unfortunately, the orcs kept coming and now they were accompanied by arrows flying overhead. Those arrows sought out the night elf archers, slaying several and shattering the line.

Drawing her glaive, Su’ura leapt atop her mount. She shouted toward the remaining lancers, who rallied to her.

“Drive them back!” Su’ura ordered. “Give the archers and the others time to regroup again!”

With her in the lead, the riders turned again on the oncoming orcs. Su’ura threw the glaive at the first of the attackers and watched with grim satisfaction as the flying blades cut through the chest of the tusked warrior. Blood spilling from the red crevice, the orc tumbled forward, inadvertently tripping two of those directly behind him. Catching the glaive, Su’ura took advantage of the confusion by striking down one of the pair before they could untangle themselves.

The orc line faltered. The riders pushed them back.

A new flight of arrows assailed the orcs. It was accompanied by a number of spinning glaives that further annihilated their front ranks.

Su’ura let out a triumphant yell. The Horde was again learning the folly of attacking Silverwing. Despite the astounding ploy by its commander, the defenders would gain the day—

Another horn blew.

The orc lines dropped.

A fresh flight of arrows concentrated on the riders. Su’ura, at point, saw some of the Horde’s archers just as they were firing, and shouted a warning.

She planted herself against the nightsaber’s neck and prayed the others did the same. However, the many cries she heard in her wake did not give her much hope.

Worse, her mount stumbled, then collapsed. In the process, the animal threw Su’ura.

The night elf fell among the dead, an orc’s gaping face barely an inch from hers. She tried to rise, but something held her leg down. Su’ura twisted around and saw that the nightsaber, more than a dozen heavy bolts piercing its body, had fallen on the limb, trapping it. The unfortunate cat was already dead, which meant that she could not even get the animal to move.

She managed to seize an axe from the dead orc. With the carnage going on around her, she was momentarily forgotten. Doubtful that it would remain that way long, the night elf tried to use the axe head to prop up the carcass enough to slip her leg free.

A nerve-shaking wail rose over the vicinity, causing her to lose her grip on the axe. Despite her predicament, she had to see the cause.

Two Sentinels blocked her view, but not for very long. Although expertly wielding their glaives for hand-to-hand combat, first one, then the other, fell. One did so minus her head; the other with his torso cut all the way down the middle. The doom of each was accompanied by the same awful wail.

And as the night elves fell, they revealed the lone foe who had so easily dealt with them. The brown-skinned orc grinned as he looked for another enemy to smite. In his hands he gripped a dreadful axe that had an intricate series of grooves in the head.

Su’ura had never seen him before, but knew instantly from the tales that she stared at Garrosh Hellscream himself.

As if sensing her, his baleful gaze turned in her direction.

The Sentinel seized the axe again and shoved the weapon’s head toward the corpse of her mount. Twisting the handle, she used the head to push up the nightsaber just enough to finally pull her leg free.

“Good,” declared an ominous, deep voice. “I want a fair battle.”

She stared up at the warchief, who made no move yet. Su’ura realized that he was waiting for her to stand. Once she did that, he would move in to finish her. While the night elf did not fear him, she knew from the way her body ached that she was injured inside. More important, this was Garrosh Hellscream, whose prowess in combat had already become legendary.

Another nightsaber suddenly came between them. Unafraid, the orc turned to face this new foe. The cat swatted at Garrosh but did not close with the hulking warrior.

“Run!” called the rider. Only then did Su’ura realize that it was Illiyana.

But her would-be rescuer had underestimated Garrosh Hellscream. The orc lunged under the nightsaber’s claws. He took the axe and jammed it upward, beneath the great cat’s jaw.

Illiyana’s mount yowled and pulled back sharply. Blood seeping from the wound above its throat, the animal writhed in agony.

The scout was tossed toward the corpse of the other cat. Illiyana struck the heavy body hard, then rolled over.

Su’ura had not waited all this time. She had risen to a crouching position, trying to determine not where to flee but how to help Illiyana battle Garrosh. Now she instead had to rescue her rescuer.

Although badly wounded by the warchief’s daring attack, the trained nightsaber returned to the struggle. Su’ura used the animal’s bravery to help Illiyana up.

“That . . . did not work . . . as I planned,” the other night elf gasped.

“How are you?”

Illiyana grimaced. “I think my left arm is either broken or perhaps just pulled.”

“Then we had better hurry away from here.”

“I can fight—”

“No argument! We are behind the line now! We have got to get back to the rest!”

The horrific wail of Garrosh’s axe cut through the air again. It was followed by an angry and pained roar from the nightsaber. Su’ura did not look back. She regretted the cat’s sacrifice but had no choice. To stay would be suicide for both fighters.

Several yards to the west, she saw some of the defenders again regrouping, but farther to the east the situation grew more and more desperate. There, individual Sentinels, cut off from hope, fought against one or more foes, odds too often quickly fatal. Su’ura watched in horror as an orc lopped off the head of one of her officers. The body of the Sentinel staggered a few steps before finally collapsing. Elsewhere, severed limbs marked the dooms of other night elves. Now and then, a glaive would go spinning past, but those signs of resistance grew less and less with each passing second.

Su’ura and Illiyana had managed to get within a few yards of a small party of archers when Su’ura sensed that they were not alone. With regret, she shoved Illiyana toward the other defenders, hoping that the other night elf’s reflexes were still sharp enough to compensate for the sudden loss of the commander’s help.

Su’ura barely got her weapon up in time to prevent an older orc with an eye patch and covered in maritime tattoos from cleaving her in two with his heavy axe. He was no Garrosh, but his experience and sheer determination put her on the defensive from the first moment.

“I’ll make this quick,” he rasped. “You wouldn’t want to be around when he unleashes them, anyway. . . .”

She had no idea what he was talking about and did not care. What concerned Su’ura more was that the leg that had been trapped under the dead nightsaber was now tingling. It had been injured, after all, and now that injury was causing problems with her balance.

The night elf followed Garrosh’s trick, suddenly lunging into her opponent when he would have expected otherwise. The startled orc backed away. Su’ura slashed with the axe, but managed only a thin red line across his arm.

An arrow from behind her struck the ground between them. Another bounced off the orc’s shoulder armor.

The green-skinned warrior snarled, then withdrew as two more arrows harassed him.

Two Sentinels seized Su’ura and pulled her back to the archers. As they did, the commander heard the buzzing of a shredder. Some of the goblins had managed to get their foul mechanisms on their feet again and were tearing apart what the falling trees had not already destroyed.

Su’ura smelled fire. The main building was ablaze, whether by the goblins or some other source, she did not know. She considered taking a chance and rushing into it to retrieve some of the valuable charts stored there, but knew that it was too late to do anything.

The terrible wail echoed in her ears again. Garrosh, his weapon dripping with blood, yelled an unintelligible command to his warriors. Even the goblins moved in response, the shredders forming a line, then stopping.

“They—they are within range!” Illiyana was incredulous. “Are they committing suicide?”

“It does not matter! Archers, fire at will! I want every glaive flying too!”

More and more of Silverwing’s survivors gathered. Su’ura saw that the Sentinels still had a fairly decent line of defense. True, they looked to be outnumbered, but that would not be the first time.

Yet, as the first archers readied their shots, again a horn sounded. The archers hesitated.

“Do not wait!” cursed Su’ura.

A monstrous roar burst from the goblin-induced mist.

Something came flying out of the forest. A huge projectile. A rock several times Su’ura’s height in diameter.

It was followed by five more.

She faced what seemed a variation of the same nightmare that had initially struck the outpost. With much the same accuracy of aim, the huge rocks fell upon Silverwing.

There was no choice but to scatter. The final stand of the Silverwing Sentinels collapsed under threat of a force that they could not stop.

The first huge rock struck the ground just before where the archers had stood. As with the massive trunks, the area shook as if the Cataclysm had come anew. However, the rocks—more focused missiles—raised up huge bits of dirt and stone that bombarded the night elves. A Sentinel near Illiyana dropped dead, her skull caved in by one sharp fragment. Two archers were brought down by a rain of earth.

Silverwing filled with thunder as the rest of the boulders hit. Sentinels went flying through the air. Two other boulders completely obliterated the glaive throwers and their operators. Nightsabers, driven wild by the catastrophe, ignored their riders’ orders.

The Horde wasted no time in taking advantage. Garrosh let out a cry of victory, waved the wailing axe, and led the charge himself. A few Sentinels, bowled over by the latest barrage, struggled to rise quick enough to at least put up a defense against the oncoming enemy. They gave a good accounting for themselves, managing to bring more than a few orcs down with their glaives and swords, but none survived long against such overwhelming odds.

Illiyana was the first to state the terribly obvious. “We cannot stay any longer! We must abandon our position!”

Although she wanted to deny what her companion said, Su’ura could not. The Sentinels’ numbers were fast dwindling. Several of those still alive were wounded, and against the growing ranks of orcs entering the battle, it would have been murder to order them to stay.

“Fall back!” Su’ura called. “We make our way beyond the river to Commander Haldrissa!”

Clearly reluctant, the Sentinels nevertheless obeyed. They gathered those more injured and, under the protective cover of the healthiest archers and warriors, did what none would have ever thought could happen. They abandoned Silverwing Outpost.

The orcs gave chase. To Su’ura’s relief, there were no orcs mounted on wolves among them. Furthermore, the few nightsabers still manageable helped carry the wounded Sentinels while the rest kept pace as best as possible. Night elves were better built for speed, and finally the pursuers fell behind. Even then, though, Silverwing’s remnants pushed on as hard as they could. The others had to be warned.

Su’ura knew that something was not quite right about their escape, but was too exhausted and too busy trying to keep the rest of the survivors together to consider the matter. Her injuries were taking their toll and only with Illiyana’s aid could she keep moving. Su’ura glanced at her companion and saw that the other night elf also seemed troubled. While certainly not easy, the defenders’ flight should have been much, much harder.

However, there was nothing they could do but keep moving and hope that they had, indeed, managed to evade their pursuers. The survivors had to reach Commander Haldrissa.

She peered over her shoulder. Smoke rose from the outpost. The goblins’ mist had finally faded to nothing this far west and so she had a good view of the black plumes rising over the trees.

The impossible has happened! Silverwing has fallen. The dread words repeated themselves over and over in her head. Silverwing has fallen. . . .

Su’ura feared that Ashenvale itself would be next.

His warriors were chafing to hunt down Silverwing’s remaining defenders, but Garrosh wanted the night elves to escape. It was all part of his grand strategy.

Briln and the other officers joined him. The former mariner had proven himself worthy in combat and the warchief gave him a nod. Briln grinned.

“Silverwing is ours,” Garrosh declared with immense satisfaction.

The others around him cheered. Warriors beyond them took up the cry. The cheer became a single word, or rather, name. Over and over, the warriors shouted out “Garrosh! Garrosh!”

“The survivors’ll tell ’em what happened,” Briln mentioned when the cheering had finally died down. “The Alliance will have many more fighters when they come to avenge Silverwing. They’ll be ready for blood.”

Garrosh grinned. “Good. Let them send a thousand fighters—ten thousand.” He waved Gorehowl over his head, the axe keening. The other orcs looked with admiration upon the fabled weapon.

“Let them send all the warriors the Alliance has.” The warchief eyed the carnage he had wrought. “It will just mean more of them will die.”