Richard Knaak - Wolfheart

The magnataur tried to keep moving, but the damaged limb slowed him too much. It gave Genn and the worgen on the other leg the opportunity they needed. With the lord of Gilneas guiding the others, the worgen thoroughly tore into the same area that Varian had. Genn cut deep with his longsword through what his claws could not rend. Already in terrible pain from the first leg, the magnataur belatedly tried to reach back and grab the Gilneans.

With one final cut, Genn finished the tendon. He howled sharply, then jumped from the ruined appendage.

Warned by Genn, the rest of the worgen fled the wounded magnataur. As the last of them leapt to safety, the struggling giant, in the act of trying to seize the king of Gilneas, lost his balance as the second leg gave out.

With an almost mournful roar, the dominant bull tumbled onto his left side. His collision with the ground created a shock wave that tossed many of the combatants in the vicinity from their feet.

But it was not over yet. Varian cried out a wordless challenge and bounded onto the struggling behemoth. He ran toward the head even as worgen once more swarmed the rest of the body.

With fingers still bleeding from Varian’s earlier strike, the magnataur swatted at whatever worgen he could reach. Some of the most eager of the worgen fell prey to the swinging hand, but Varian dodged it, then raced up past the shoulder to the neck.

The fearsome visage twisted in his direction, the magnataur’s long, curving tusks sweeping toward Varian and nearly succeeding where the hand had failed. The baleful eyes glared at the puny human who had caused him so much pain. Varian felt the muscles leading to the arm move and knew that the wounded magnataur had come to realize that this was prey finally within easy reach.

With the hand rushing to him, Varian held Shalamayne downward with both hands and stepped off the neck.

As he dropped, he took the sword and jammed it into the soft part of the throat.

The fabled blade cut through as if the flesh there were water. The magnataur’s life fluids drenched Varian as he continued a drop slowed only by how long it took Shalamayne to cut through.

A great gurgle escaped the bull. The behemoth thrashed about, in his death throes threatening to do to Varian what he could not before.

A furred form seized Varian before the arm could crush him. He and his worgen rescuer rolled in a heap, Shalamayne flying a short distance away.

Varian picked himself up. He discovered only then that his rescuer was none other than Genn. The worgen leader lay stunned. Varian knelt by his side and discovered that Genn had struck his head hard. Blood matted the fur there.

Genn’s eyes opened. He stared up at Varian.

“Such fury! Small wonder you are Goldrinn’s chosen champion. . . . ” The worgen leader blinked, his humanity quite evident in his eyes despite his furred form. “I feared for a moment that we’d lose you due to your impetuousness.”

“Your people almost lost you instead.”

“A small price to pay. The worgen have found you. We have found our place through you.”

Varian looked for his sword. “Our place may be the grave. This battle isn’t over.”

Genn sought to rise, then winced and sat back again. He took a deep breath, then tried once more. This time, the worgen leader succeeded.

Varian retrieved Shalamayne, but as he looked up again, he saw something amidst the chaos of the battlefield that made him bare his teeth.

“Don’t follow me, Genn.”

“What—”

Not waiting around to explain, Varian charged back into the struggle. An orc saw Varian and foolishly tried to take him. The lord of Stormwind barely noticed as Shalamayne sank deep in the orc’s chest. A second warrior fell as quickly and just as unnoticed.

Varian only had interest in one opponent, the same one who had earlier hunted him with such obsession, but from whom the human had been separated by circumstance.

Garrosh Hellscream.

The battling armies once more obscured the warchief from Varian’s view, but Gorehowl’s shriek was unmistakable, even from a distance. Varian paused and listened again as the axe sang its song of death, then altered his path.

A horn blared from the Alliance side and suddenly there were lancers on nightsabers everywhere. Horde warriors scattered as the huge cats brought new death among them. One of the lancers came to the rescue of a worgen surrounded by enemies, the lance running through one as the nightsaber ripped apart two others. The worgen readily handled the rest.

A magnataur bellowed, his body almost literally covered with worgen. Several worked at the legs and, even as Varian passed them, one limb gave.

The worgen were everywhere in the battle, darting in and about and slashing with either weapon or claws as the need arose. Ghoulish Forsaken retreated in the face of a foe too swift for them, the undead having already seen several of their number ripped apart or cut to wriggling, useless pieces. Hardened tauren sought to take a stand, but their very agile foes more often than not got under their defenses, striking true and finally pushing the tauren back. The top half of a goblin machine spun around and around as its operator frantically tried to keep two worgen at bay. The Gilneans calmly waited until they had the measure of the mechanism’s movements, then one sprang past the whirling blades, landed behind the driver, and raked the goblin’s back with his claws.

A glaive flew past Varian, the rushing weapon followed by two more. Sentinels on foot now entered the thickest part of the struggle. Some continued to toss their blades over and over while others used the glaives in hand-to-hand combat. With them came Stormwind’s forces, who instantly surged toward where the worgen—and thus King Varian—fought. The outcome of the struggle was far from clear, save that now at least the Alliance had a chance.

Then lines began to re-form on the Horde side. Varian heard Gorehowl once more, this time exceedingly close by.

He picked up his pace, unaware that one of the mounted Sentinel officers saw him. Alerting another, the night elf had her force follow the king of Stormwind. Worgen also began to track behind Varian as he moved quickly across the field despite a path littered with bloody and mangled bodies from both sides.

Still ignorant of the charge he had begun leading, Varian closed on the area where he was certain that he would find Garrosh. Capture or slay the warchief, and the battle ended. That was all that mattered. . . .

A line of orcish archers suddenly rose up from hiding and fired at the oncoming enemy.

Somehow, Varian dodged those shafts that came near him. He had no notion as to what happened behind him. Some of those who followed perished, but others quickly replaced their numbers. There was a sense among the Alliance that a defining moment was upon them, that this charge led by the king of Stormwind would make or break the day.

But on the other side, the Horde was more than ready to meet this new challenge. The deadly flight of arrows preceded a rush of heavily armed and armored warriors both on foot and astride the great dire wolves.

Still paying no heed to those who followed him, Varian saw the enemy ranks as merely impediments. When the first dire wolf reached him, he used Shalamayne to slice through one eye and pierce the brain. As the animal fell forward, Varian stepped up atop its head and all but cut the orc rider in two. A blood elf who grabbed for the lord of Stormwind pulled back with his hand lost. Axes and blades tore at his garments and bloodied his body, but none were more than nuisances, and they slowed him not a bit.

And though he himself did not notice it, did not feel it, both those who followed and those who faced him thought that they saw in the dust and smoke swirling in his vicinity the darting form of a great wolf. Who first shouted the name was a question none could answer. The worgen assumed it was one of their own, for had they not been the first to recognize the king of Stormwind as the Ancient’s champion? The Sentinels believed it either the high priestess or her general, while those dwarves and humans who had accompanied the expedition from Darnassus thought someone of their ranks was responsible.