Aaron Rosenberg: Tides of Darkness

Then the portal itself vanished, the roiling colors replaced by simple empty space. And Khadgar felt the world draw breath again as whatever had bound it to Draenor snapped, ending the tug of that dying world and letting nature reassert itself.

Glancing down, Khadgar saw Turalyon picking himself up off the ground. The Paladin was covered with rock dust and small rock chips but looked otherwise unharmed, and he grinned up at Khadgar as he wiped the dust from his face, arms, and chest.

"I don't think they will be using that again," he called up, and they both laughed, their humor born of profound relief.

The war was over. And the Alliance had won. Their world was safe.

"It will be an impressive monument," Turalyon comented. He and Khadgar sat their horses near the cliff's edge, looking out over the same plain where Lothar had fought his final battle months before. The landscape was bleak, brutal, and harsh, all black stone and hardened lava except where fresh lava glowed red amid the shadows. The air was thick with ash and soot, and the sky seemed perpetually overcast. The mountains loomed like disapproving guardians. Blackrock Spire rose at the far end.

"It will," Khadgar agreed. "His sacrifice will always shine as a symbol of loyalty and bravery, even after other traces of this war have vanished."

Turalyon nodded, his gaze still focused upon the statue that was being raised before Blackrock Spire. Regent Lord Anduin Lothar, Champion of Stormwind and Commander of the Alliance, stood with sword raised and shield at the ready, looking to the skies as if daring them to battle. He was dressed in full armor but without his helm, and his strong features stared out across the valley, his gaze stern but kind.

"At least it's over," Khadgar said.

It was true. That battle at the Dark Portal had been the last. Those few orcs who had survived had surrendered and been taken prisoner. No one was quite sure what to do with them, and for now they had been put to work hauling materials for Lothar's monument, an irony Turalyon appreciated. Once this was done, perhaps the orcs would be sent to do more hard labor elsewhere. He doubted they would be slaughtered but neither could they be set loose, in case they dreamed of creating a Horde once more. Some, including the Blackhands, had escaped, but they lacked the numbers to pose a serious threat now.

Still, that was not his concern. Terenas and the other kings would make that decision, when the time came. After Lordaeron had been cleansed Terenas had marched his forces into Alterac and declared martial law, deposing the traitorous Perenolde and imprisoning him. Alterac's fate was still uncertain, but the Alliance would continue, and the remaining monarchs had asked Turalyon to remain as its Commander. He had accepted, feeling Lothar would have wanted him to continue in that role. His friend and mentor had only wanted to protect the land and its people, and he vowed to do the same.

"You're thinking heavy thoughts," Khadgar commented, nudging him in the arm.

"Only about the future and what it may bring," Turalyon replied.

"No one knows the future," his friend said, though a strange look crossed his face. "Though I suspect we have not seen the last of the Horde or its world."

"I hope you are wrong," Turalyon told him. "But if you are right, we will be here waiting for them when they return. And we will drive them back again, just as we did this time. This world is ours, and by the Holy Light we will keep it safe, now and forever."

The mage laughed. "A noble statement, good Turalyon," he teased. "Perhaps that is what they will carve on your statue, when the time comes."

"A statue?" Turalyon laughed. "What could either of us possibly do to earn statues?"

As always, massive thanks go to Chris for starting the tide and to Marco for controlling it. I'd also like to thank Evelyn for her sharp eyes and kind words. Most importantly I'd like to thank the World of Warcraft fans, without whom Lothar and Orgrim and the others would have no one to tell their tale.

AARON ROSENBERG is originally from New Jersey and New York. He returned to New York City in 1996 after stints in New Orleans and Kansas. He has taught college—level English and worked in corporate graphics and book publishing.

Aaron has written novels for Star Trek, StarCraft, Warcraft, Warhammer, and Exalted. He also writes role—playing games and has worked on the Star Trek, WarCraft, and Warhammer games. He writes educational books as well.

Aaron lives in New York City with his family. For more information about his writing you can visit him online at www.rosenbergbooks.com.