Aaron Rosenberg - Tides of Darkness

Ter'lij recovered from his surprise and laughed. "Very clever, little pale one," he agreed. "A fine trick you be playin' on Ter'lij. But there is only one of you, wi' your little stick, an' many of us." The rest of his pack landed behind him and ranged out, ready to surround the arrogant elf.

But the elf only grinned more widely, his expression nasty. "Do you think so, oaf?" he taunted. "You pride yourself on your woodcraft, yet you are blind in the forest compared to us. And deaf."

Suddenly a second elf emerged from behind a nearby tree. And then a third. And a fourth. Ter'lij frowned. There were more and more of them, until he and his pack were surrounded and thoroughly outnumbered. And all of them carried the same long spears and bore tall oblong shields. This was not what he had expected.

Nonetheless, Ter'lij was a seasoned hunter and warrior and was not so easily frightened. "Better!" he announced finally, rising to his full height. "A real fight, not just pickin' off an unarmed elf! I like it!" And he leaped upon the lead elf, his sword raised high—and died in mid—air, the elf commander's spear sliding through his chest and piercing his heart before emerging out his back. The elf stepped to one side, letting Ter'lij's body slide from his weapon, and pivoted, sweeping the spear around in a deadly arc to slice off the hand of a troll advancing upon him.

The battle was over quickly. The elf leader kicked at one of the bodies, which did not move, and nodded. He had faced forest trolls before, though never here in Quel'Thalas, and while they were talented forest hunters compared to most races they were clumsy when matched against an elf. Sylvanas had sent his patrol out, one of many, with orders to flush out and kill any trolls they could find. This was the second pack he had encountered, and he wondered how many more still crashed through their forest.

He was opening his mouth to rally his men when a slender figure burst into the clearing, golden hair streaming behind her. His ears had picked up her approach seconds before she arrived, and clearly she had placed speed over customary stealth.

"Halduron!" she called as she approached, slowing to a stop a few feet from him. "Good! I have spoken with the Alliance commander, and with Sylvanas as well. She needs all our forces along the southwest edge of the forest. That is where the Horde has gathered, and he cannot hold them for long."

Halduron Brightwing nodded. "I shall inform Lor'themar, for his band is near here as well," he assured her, "and we will come to the aid of your friends. Their fight is now ours, and we will not allow them to fall before these foul creatures." He paused, studying her a second. "Are you well, Alleria? You seem flushed."

Alleria shook her head, though a faint frown flitted across her face. "I am fine," she assured him. "Now go! Bring our warriors! I will return to my sister and to the Alliance and reassure them that aid is on the way." And she was gone again, turning on her heel and dashing back into the trees.

Halduron watched her go, then shook himself. He had known Alleria Windrunner a long time, and could see that something had bothered or unsettled her. But they were all bothered this day, when strange creatures roamed their sacred woods. Not for long, however. Gesturing to his rangers, Halduron pulled his spear free of a troll and wiped it clean on the body, then turned. There would be time to rid the forest of their filth later. First they must deal with the foes still living.

Turalyon felt it had only been minutes since Alleria's departure when she appeared again, surfacing through the battle to stand beside him. Her bow was slung across her back now and she had her sword in hand instead, using it to cut down an orc that had been trying to stab his horse in the hindquarters.

"They will be here," she assured him, her eyes bright, and Turalyon nodded. He felt a surge of relief, though whether at the thought of reinforcements or the fact that she was still safe he was not sure. He frowned, unused to such thoughts, and pushed them aside for now. First he needed to worry about his and his troops' survival.

The rain had finally stopped, though the clouds remained, casting the battlefield into shadow. So when Turalyon saw a dark shape loom up off to one side, at first he thought it was simply a distorted shadow from some orc warrior. But the shape continued to grow, and to gain solidity, and he stared, almost getting skewered by an orc as a result.

"Stay focused!" Khadgar warned, riding up beside him and kicking the orc away before it could strike again. "What are you staring at?"

"That," Turalyon replied, pointing with his hammer before returning his attention the fight raging around him.

Now it was Khadgar's turn to stare, and the young—old wizard let out a string of curses as he saw the massive figure that had emerged from the trees and joined the far edge of the battle. It was easily twice the size of even an orc, with skin the color of aged leather. It held a massive hammer, most likely an orc two—handed weapon but used in a single hand by the behemoth, and wore strange armor—Turalyon's jaw tightened as he risked a second glance and realized the armor was human, breastplates and greaves and bracers linked together by thick chains to cover most of the massive creature's flesh.

Its twin heads were bare, however, and glared down at the men and orcs milling before it. The hammer swept down as well, crushing two men in a single blow, and then swept to one side, knocking four more soldiers from their feet and tossing them several yards away.

"What the hell is that thing?" Turalyon demanded, smashing a charging orc in the face and driving it back against another, who staggered under the shared impact.

"An ogre," Khadgar replied. "A two—headed one."

Turalyon started to tell his friend that yes, he had seen ogres before, and he had realized this one had two heads, when the strange ogre raised its empty hand toward a cluster of Alliance soldiers. Turalyon blinked, thinking his eyes were playing tricks upon him. Had he just seen fire pour from the creature's outstretched hand toward the soldiers? He looked again. Yes, there were flames licking about the soldiers now, and the men were dropping their weapons to beat at themselves where the fires danced across their armor and clothes. Several were pulling off their cloaks, which had ignited, and others were rolling in the grass, trying to put out the flames that tormented them. How had the strange new ogre done that?

"Damn!" Khadgar had clearly seen it as well, if his increased cursing was any indication. "He's an ogre mage!"

"A what?"

"A wizard," Khadgar snapped. "A bloody ogre wizard!"

"Ah." Turalyon dispatched another foe and stared at the monstrous ogre again, trying to understand this. The largest, strongest creature he had ever seen, and it cast magic? Wonderful. What would it take to kill such a beast? He started to ask Khadgar this, and choked on his words as the ogre mage suddenly reeled and fell forward, the hair on the back of its head spiked straight up by the last of the rainfall. At first Turalyon thought it was leaning down to do something to the bodies before it, perhaps devour them with its twin mouths, but the creature did not get up again. And then he realized that what he had taken for hair was too solid for that. Those were shafts, too big to be arrows. Spears!

"Yes!" Alleria cheered, raising her bow high in salute. "My people have arrived!"

And she was right, Turalyon saw. From the forest emerged row upon row of elves. These wore more armor than Alleria and her rangers, and heavier gear, and carried shields and spears as well. Clearly it had been their weapons that had felled the ogre mage. Turalyon had never been so happy to see anyone in his life.