Aaron Rosenberg - Tides of Darkness

Well, Capital City 's walls were as sturdy as ever. No foe had ever breached its defenses, and Terenas was determined to maintain that record.

They had not been able to prepare fully, of course. The people had been easy enough to gather, since most lived within the walls already. Livestock had been more problematic and some animals had simply been abandoned to their fate, as had all but the smallest and most precious possessions. The guards had done their best to make sure everyone and everything was inside before closing and sealing the gates, but most people had fled with little more than the clothes on their backs and whatever tools and other possessions they'd had to hand. Their homes would surely be destroyed by the Horde, and Terenas knew it would take some time to rebuild them afterward. Assuming they drove the orcs back and were able to leave the city once more.

He glanced along the ramparts, where his guards and soldiers stood ready. So few men to defend such large walls! But most of his soldiers had marched off with Lothar and the rest of the Alliance. Nor did Terenas regret that decision. The Horde had needed to be stopped, and Lothar had needed every soldier that could be spared for his army. Of course, he had not expected the Horde to strike at them here, and certainly not without the Alliance forces either blocking their path or marching after them to aid in the city's defense. But even if Capital City fell, if the Alliance won in the end it would be a small price to pay.

That did not mean he was about to surrender the city, however. Terenas glanced down again, and judged the orcs close enough now. He could see their tusks from here, and the tassels and bones and medals that hung around many of their necks and arms and heads, clearly trophies of previous battles. Well, they would find this fight more challenging than their previous encounters. No matter what happened, the Horde would remember this fight.

"Hot oil!" Terenas shouted, and down the line Morev and others nodded. They tipped the large cauldrons over the ramparts, letting the boiling oil pour down in sheets just beyond the walls. The leading orcs had almost reached the walls by then, and the oil spilled across them, drenching them utterly. Many screamed in pain as it burned away their flesh, and the entire front rank crumpled, writhing and twitching. A few staggered away but most did not get up again.

"Prepare more oil!" Terenas ordered, and servants scurried to obey, using stout poles to lift the heavy cauldrons and carry them away. It would take time to refill the cauldrons and then reheat them and bring them back up to the ramparts, but he doubted the Horde was going anywhere. This would not be a quick skirmish or a fast conflict—it would most likely be a long siege, and he thanked the Holy Light they had sufficient stores of food and water for several weeks. Oil they would run out of after another dousing or two, but it was merely the opening move in their defense. Terenas had other tricks to show these unruly orcs who dared attack his home.

Thoras Trollbane stalked across the mountains as easily as if he were one of the region's sturdy rams, his heavy hob—nailed boots finding solid purchase on the rough gray granite. His men moved behind him, each one as well—versed in mountaineering as in combat. Stromgarde was a mountain kingdom, and its children grew up learning to climb the rock faces and scale the peaks.

Ahead of him lay the first of the Alterac mountain passes. Trollbane could already see figures moving through the falling snow, large heavy—set figures marching steadily but awkwardly. Clearly the orcs of the Horde were not accustomed to the altitude or the peaks. The passes themselves were chiseled carefully out of the mountain range for just such people, allowing trade and communication with both Alterac and Stromgarde's lower neighbors. For themselves Trollbane and his people did not need such conveniences. They preferred to scale the heights wherever they wished, rather than being trapped in a long chute like the one before them. The passes were far too easy to blockade—and to ambush.

Gesturing to his men, Trollbane crouched, his axe at the ready. Not yet, not yet…now! Leaping over the edge he landed solidly in the pass between two orcs, taking them by surprise. His axe flashed, carving one's head from its body and then catching the other in the throat on the backswing. Both fell, and the orcs on either side of them stumbled and snarled, raising their own weapons. But four of Trollbane's warriors dove into the pass just then, two on either side of him, and hacked apart the next orcs in line. Then more of his men jumped down and attacked the orcs beyond those already falling, and so on. In a matter of minutes two dozen orcs lay dead and the pass was clogged with bodies.

Trollbane and his men pushed the dead orcs, already stiffening from the cold, into a single stack that rose to the top of the pass. Then he stationed ten of his men there to guard the makeshift blockade and climbed back out, taking the rest of his warriors with him.

"Good," Trollbane told them as they worked their way to the north. "That's one taken care of." The next pass was less than an hour's climb away.

They found that pass also crowded with marching orcs, and attacked it in the same way. Trollbane could see that the orcs were fearsome warriors, large and strong and tough, but they had no experience with cold or mountains and were not used to foes leaping down on them. The second pass was taken as easily as the first one, and so was the third. The fourth pass proved slightly more difficult because it was the widest of them—four men could walk abreast here, or three orcs, and so Trollbane and his soldiers jumped down four at a time. But soon enough it was blocked off as well, and they rolled boulders down to make sure it stayed impassable.

The fifth pass was clear, at least of orcs. Trollbane found warriors stationed there but they were human, dressed in the orange of Alterac, and they were stationed above the pass as well as within it.

"Hold!" one of the Alterac soldiers called out, spotting them and leveling his spear in their direction. "State your name and business here!" Several of his fellows rushed to support him.

"Thoras Trollbane, king of Stromgarde," Trollbane replied curtly. He glared at the soldiers, though he knew they were only following orders. "Where is Perenolde?"

"The king is in his castle," the same soldier replied haughtily. "And you are trespassing on our lands."

"And the orcs?" Trollbane asked. "Are they trespassers, or guests?"

"The orcs shall not pass us," another soldier declared. "We will defend this pass with our lives!"

"Good," Trollbane said, "only they're not at this pass. They're at the four south of here."

That startled the soldiers. "We were told to guard here," one of them said, looking confused. "This was where they said the orcs would try to pass."

"Well, they didn't," Trollbane snapped. "Fortunately my men are blocking the other passes now, but many already made it through. To Lordaeron." One of the soldiers was older, clearly a veteran, and his face paled as that statement sank in. It was to him that Trollbane addressed his next question. "Where is Hath?"

"General Hath is at the next pass, with the bulk of our forces," the soldier replied. He considered for a second before offering, "I can take you there."

Trollbane knew the way, but he also knew it would be easier to get to speak with Hath if he arrived with an escort. So he nodded, and gestured for his men to follow him and the Alterac soldier.

It took another hour to reach the next pass. This one was the widest path through Alterac, easily broad enough for two full carts to pass one another without brushing the walls, and it made good sense to station most of the soldiers to guard it. If the orcs were going north instead of south. Trollbane spotted Hath speaking with several junior officers but waited until the soldier who had brought them had hailed the stout general.