"We will hold," he assured her grimly. "We must." And Alleria was gone again. Turalyon only hoped she and her kin retuned before the rest of the Horde overwhelmed their tiny defense. Already waves of orcs were pouring in from the sides, and Turalyon knew his forces could not stand against the entire orc army, especially not here on an open field where the orcs could surround them and swarm them under. They would need support, and quickly. He just hoped the elves were as ready and as capable as Alleria made them sound.

Ter'lij, one of Zul'jin's subordinates, grinned. He and his pack had smelled something unpleasant nearby and had followed their noses to a delicious sound, a single soft thump—thump on the forest floor below. A lone elf. Ter'lij had been charged with watching this path, which led toward the elven city, and keeping any elves from crossing it. Well, this was one elf who would go no farther.

Lowering himself silently through the foliage, Ter'lij caught sight of his prey. The elf was moving quickly enough for one of its kind, and most likely other creatures would have thought it quiet, but to Ter'lij its passage was as loud as the thunder he heard rumbling near the forest's edge and its pace was easily surpassed. The elf wore a long brown cloak, the hood raised, and was leaning upon a long staff. An elder, then. Even better.

Licking his lips with anticipation, Ter'lij motioned his pack to follow him down. Then he dropped from the trees, his curved blade in hand, and grinned at his victim and started in surprise as the elf tossed back his cloak and straightened with a grin of his own. The staff swung up and around, revealing a long blade at one end, and armor gleamed even in the shadows of the trees.

"Did you think we could not hear you rustling about above us?" the elf sneered, his narrow features pulled taut in a glower. "Did you think we could not sense you befouling our forest? You are not welcome here, creature, and you will not be suffered to live."

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."