Keith DeCandido: Cycle of Hatred

Assuming, of course, that nothing went wrong.

Davin didn't especially like Colonel Lorena, but he really wished she were here right now, instead of off with the Burning Blade. For one thing, she was a lot better at running a garrison of troops than he was. Unlike Davin's, Lorena's promotions had actually been based on merit.

For another, if the Burning Blade could get her, not to mention Lady Proudmoore, what hope did Davin have?

Oreil came running in, his too—big armor clanking with each step. "Major Davin! Major Davin! The orcs're moving! It happened as soon as the boats docked!"

Davin sighed yet again. "When did the boats dock?"

"Didn't anyone tell you?" Oreil blinked a few times. "Oh, wait, I was supposed to do that. I'm sorry, sir, but I got all overexcited. Please don't court—martial me."

Getting up from his desk and heading out the door, Davin said, "Private, right now a court—martial is the least of your worries."

Slowly, Davin walked down the narrow staircase that led to the ground floor of the tower at Northwatch's center. Northwatch was built on an uneven hill that sloped down to the Great Sea. The eastern border of the keep was a stone wall that had been built between two of the hillocks; the buildings that made up Northwatch were on the western side of the wall, with a beach lined with palm trees on the eastern side.

As he approached the archway that led through that stone wall and onto the beach, Davin saw orcs and trolls.

Many many orcs and trolls.

Their boats were all tethered to poles that had been sunk into the sand. There were dozens of them, each with a full complement of about a dozen trolls or orcs. Some wore animal skins; others wore the heads of vicious beasts as helms. All of them were armed with axes and broadswords and morningstars and maces, and other weapons that all appeared at first glance to be bigger than Davin himself.

"So this is it," he muttered. "We're going to die."

"What was that, Major?" one of the troops guarding the archway asked.

Shaking his head quickly, Davin said, "Nothing." Somehow, the major managed to force himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other. As he passed through the archway, his boots started to sink into the sand with each step.

Dimly, he registered that dozens of troops had fallen into line behind him. He took a quick glance back to see that several of them were forming a skirmish line in front of the wall, and others were taking up position atop it. Davin was grateful that someone had the wherewithal to give that order, and he briefly wondered who it was.

Turning back to face the new arrivals, he said, "I'm Maj—"

He cut himself off. His voice was breaking.

Clearing his throat, he started again. "I'm Major Davin. I'm in charge of Northwatch Keep. What business do you have here?"

For a brief moment, Davin entertained the hope that the orcs would say they were just passing through for a brief respite and would be gone within the hour. He hoped it as fervently as he had hoped that his return from the massacre of his platoon would result in his being cashiered out, and this hope looked to have as much likelihood of becoming reality as the previous one.

Sure enough, the biggest, scariest looking one stepped forward. (Davin was willing to concede that this one seemed biggest and scariest because he was the one who stepped forward.)

"I am Burx. I speak for Thrall, Warchief of the Horde and Lord of the Clans. This keep of yours violates our alliance with you people. You've got one hour to take it down and get rid of any and all traces of your presence here."

Davin sputtered. "You—you can't be serious. There's no way we can take down the entire keep in an hour!"

Burx smiled. It was the type of smile that a large predator might have right before it pounced on its small, defenseless prey. "If you don't comply with this order, we'll attack. And you'll die."

Of that last part, Davin had very little doubt.

Jaina had sent Aegwynn and Lorena to the small dining hall that was reserved for high—ranking officers and officials of state. For practical purposes, according to Duree, the little old woman who assisted Jaina, the latter mostly had meant the now—deceased Kristoff and Jaina herself. The young mage had given Aegwynn permission to enter there, as well. When Duree objected, Jaina pointed out that a Guardian was of greater rank than a head of state.

For her part, Jaina had retreated to her chambers—she too needed to eat, but she had to do it while working, trying to determine the location of the warlocks. Lorena wanted to join her troops at Northwatch, in case Thrall was unable to stem the tide of battle, but Jaina refused. For one thing, she trusted Thrall. For another, she needed Lorena as physical protection when they confronted Zmodlor and his minions, especially since Kristoff had sent Jaina's official protection, the Elite Guard, to Northwatch.

But Jaina needed to work in solitude, so she sent the old Guardian and the young colonel to the dining hall.

When the steward came by, Aegwynn asked for only a salad and some fruit juice; Lorena ordered a meat platter and boar's grog. Aegwynn had never heard of the latter, and Lorena explained that it was an orc drink.

Letting out a long breath, Aegwynn said, "How times have changed."

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't that long ago that orcs were nothing but the minions of the demons I had dedicated my life to stopping. They were monsters, berserkers that ravaged the countryside in the name of Gul'dan, who was in turn acting for Sargeras. The notion of humans drinking an orc beverage is…radical, to say the least."

Lorena smiled. "Yes, but isn't ‘that long ago' a relative term when discussing someone as old as you?"

Aegwynn chuckled. "A fair point."

"You're really a thousand years old?"

Smiling wryly, Aegwynn said, "Give or take a century."

Lorena shook her head. "Magic. I've never understood it—always hated it, to be honest, even when it's being used in my service."

Aegwynn shrugged. "I've never wanted any other life for myself but as a wizard. From when I was a little girl, it was how I always answered those tiresome questions about what I wanted to be when I grew up. The adults always looked at me strangely when I said that—wizards were always men, after all." That last was said with a certain bitterness.

"So were soldiers. I grew up with nine brothers, and they were all soldiers just like my father. I didn't see any good reason why I shouldn't be one, either." Lorena chuckled. "I got the same strange looks, believe me."

The drinks arrived a moment later, as did Aegwynn's salad. Lorena held up her mug. "Would you like a taste?"

Boar's grog smelled about as wretched as the animal for which it was named. Her nose wrinkling, Aegwynn politely declined. "I'm afraid I haven't had a drink of alcohol in—well, centuries. Mages can't afford the loss of mental acuity, so I lost the taste for it some time ago." She held up her mug, which was apparently a mixture of the squeezings of three or four different fruits. "This is as strong a concoction as I'm willing to imbibe."

"Makes sense." Lorena threw back a big gulp of her grog. "Me, I can drink four of these things before I even notice. Always had a high tolerance." She grinned. "When I was a rookie with the Kul Tiras City Guard, I always used to drink the men in my barracks under the table. We started having contests with the other barracks, and I was always the secret weapon." She laughed. "I quadrupled my income on bets alone during that year."

Aegwynn smiled as she nibbled on her salad. She found herself enjoying talking with this woman—an emotion she wouldn't have credited herself capable of feeling only a day ago. She had been thoroughly convinced that she had no more use for the company of other people.