Chapter Fourteen: Gathering the Flock

When Captain Falric awoke the pain was gone. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes he saw the face of the last man he'd ever wanted to see in this life or any other. Tirion Fordring wore rags instead of armor. But it made him no less contemptible.

'You awaken.' said Fordring.

'…Tirion Fordring.' said Falric as he sat up. 'I thought you had skulked off to whatever exile you had chosen.'

'The courtesy of the line of Menethil and their entourage has lessened greatly of late, it seems.' said Tirion.

'Courtesy is a luxury.' said Falric. 'My Prince stood alone against the darkness. While mighty Lords washed their hands of Lordaeron's fate.'

'If the butchery of the innocent is to stand against the dark, then to resist the orcs was futile.' noted Tirion.

'Fine words.' said Falric 'Ones you are well poised to speak. Orc friend.'

'You think your words a curse.' said Tirion 'But that only displays your ignorance. They are no more good or wicked than men. And your Prince has done things even they would find abhorrent.'

'Have men given ourselves willing to the embrace of infernal magics?' asked Falric 'Have men laid to waste our world? Have men corrupted the very land beneath our feet for the sake of pure bloodlust? Flawed we may be, but never have we bartered the souls of our race for the sake of power.'

'Was not the Cult of the Damned formed from men?' asked Tirion.

'It was. And humanity fights them still.' shot back Falric. 'If the day came when their unholy plans came to fruition. If all of mankind was brought under the heel of the Dark Lord, I should desire my race's destruction. Much as I desire the end of orcs.'

'There were many among the orcs who fought against it.' said Tirion.

'Were there?' asked Falric. 'I did not see their help when Ogrim's armies assailed the walls of Lordaeron City. Nor when Strahnbrad was raided. What help have they been to us?'

'I wonder if good orcs think the same of us.' said Tirion.

'But we have not ruined our world and sought to wholly exterminate another to extend our own life. They were merely cast into prison when beaten.' said Falric. 'A mercy they did not deserve, for they have repaid us for with our own blood.'

'This is futile.' said Tirion. 'Your wounds are healed. I have others to attend to. Captain Vareesa desired to speak with you when you awakened and it would do well if you could meet with her.'

Falric arose, found his armor and donned it. He quickly found a new sword and emerged to find himself within Hearthglen. The large town had changed. The broken gates had been repaired. And the people were all different. There had not been many survivors, but it seemed that others had taken up residence since.

Vereesa Windrunner was standing atop one of the walls looking out over the landscape. Falric came up beside her and looked on. The land before them was dying. The trees were blights. Spots of black dotted once green fields. Distantly one could see the water and beyond it a place of utter darkness. Forsaken. It was once the sight of the undead bastions. They had been destroyed by Uther. But they're mark remained.

'I never imagined it was this bad.' said Vereesa.

'Dalaran looked worse.' mused Falric. 'I'm afraid there won't be much left when this is over.'

'Is it all like this?' asked Vereesa.

'From Anderhol to Stratholme.' said Falric 'Prince Arthas sent men to train a militia from the remaining villages. But there are few left. Many were killed by Mal'ganis. Many more left with Lady Proudmoore to seek a new life in the west. Those that remain are few.

Even if the scourge is annihilated, I fear this land will remain empty.' He paused. 'Why is Tirion Fordring here? And why am I here?'

Vereesa sighed. 'You were moved here with the rest of the wounded on Prince Arthas' orders. Someone has to be here to protect the refugees from Dalaran. That's why Sylvanas sent me here. As for Tirion, he tried to head south to Dalaran but he got lost in a mist and could not find a horse.

When we got here, the village was almost empty. I thought you defended this place.'

'We did.' said Falric 'But most of the villagers died from the plague. I remember Marwynn had a sweetheart here. He had to kill her. We watched the people of this town transformed into undead before our eyes. We managed to stop the plague from spreading to other villages, and we destroyed a great undead army.

Then we reached Stratholme.' He sighed. 'I should be at Dalaran.'

'One sword won't make a difference.' said Vereesa.

'It isn't my sword that is needed.' said Falric. 'Prince Arthas has been abandoned by everyone he trusted. Everyone except myself and Marwynn. No one else understood what needed to be done. Uther and Lady Proudmoore abandoned him when he needed them most.'

'He has others he can trust.' said Vereesa. 'Like my sister.'

'I suppose so.' mused Falric. 'At the very least I may have a chance to rest.'

A man on a horse rode into view. He looked to be in a panic as he came on. 'Captain Falric! Where is Captain Falric?'

'I am here!' called Falric. 'What is it?'

'During the night a vast army of undead marched out of the Alterac Highlands. They started villages at random!' said the soldier. 'Now it's heading this way!'

Falric covered his face with his hands. '…Typical really.' he looked down to one of his officers. He was a brown bearded member of the Silver Hand who had left them at Stratholme and returned later. 'Jorad! Gather the men. We'll defend the villagers with our lives. Let this man in and give him shelter. Send word to the surrounding villages. Tell them that they can take shelter with us and their men at arms can join us in the defense.

'Vereesa dispatch rangers to find the enemy army and to protect the fleeing refugees. I hope the enemy is smaller than last time. I doubt Uther will be coming to our aid.'

'No.' said a voice. 'But I may.'

Tirion appeared. He was holding a wooden mallet and looking grim. Falric regarded him without concealing his contempt. 'So no one will come to our aid.' he said. 'I have need of soldiers. Not cowards who attacked their comrades and haven't the decency to even regret it.'

'And Lordaeron has need of heroes.' said Tirion. 'Not butchers of children.'

'Stop it both of you!' said Vereesa. 'We need everyone we can get! Can you agree to bury your quarrel until we've won the battle at least?'

Falric shrugged. '…So be it. Tirion Fordring since you have lived without honor I expect you will be at the front of the combat. You may as well die with some measure of honor and rid the world of your presence.'

'I would have been there anyway.' said Tirion.

'Then get yourself armor and a shield.' said Falric. 'The village armory should be full. Most of those who were to wield the weapons are dead.'

'Why are you so harsh on him?' asked Vereesa.

'He attacked his comrades and allowed an orc to escape.' said Falric. 'He was rightfully stripped of his rank and thrown from the order.'

'Just one orc?' said Vereesa.

'Through that one orc he did more than disobey orders.' said Falric. 'He betrayed the alliance, his king, and his race by his actions. One does not disobey ones' King.'

'Didn't you do the same thing?' asked Vereesa.

'The situation was different.' said Falric.

'How?' asked Vereesa.

'King Terenas did not understand the situation.' said Falric. 'His son did and had chosen to take the actions necessary to save Lordaeron. We have scarcely held out as things stand. How much worse would it be if not for Arthas' efforts?'

'But you did disobey orders from your king.' noted Vereesa. 'He is acknowledged as the rightful ruler of Lordaeron by the alliance.'

'The fate of the entire world may have rested on my decision.' said Falric. 'Tirion could have let that orc die, and nothing would have changed.'

'Would it have been right?' asked Vereesa.

'Of course.' said Falric. 'It was an orc. To slay it would have been just. Now we have work to do.'

He made his way throughout Hearthglen, familiarizing himself with the command. It turned out that others had come to this town for shelter. The people from Dalaran were only the first. Those guarding it were not professional soldiers. They wielded hatchets and knives. They wore leather for armor if they wore armor at all. They had little training if any. Those that had training were novices at best.

Of course with all the wounded from Dalaran being healed, there were large groups of soldiers in the town. It was a stronger defense than Prince Arthas had had to work with to be sure. Yet he had to create a command from the ground up, finding various officers to be in charge of one group or another.

Eventually, Jorad approached him. 'Captain Falric we've sent the runners as you requested. I'd like permission to join in defense of the refugees.'

'Granted.' said Falric. 'Go, but try not to get yourself killed.' He paused. 'Oh, and who is in charge of the priests here? Tirion?'

'No.' said Jorad. 'Tirion was merely the most skilled of all the healers. You'll want Sally Whitemane. She can be found over there.' He motioned to the chapel.

'Very well.' said Falric. 'I'll go find her. Dismissed.'

Sally Whitemane was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her hair was white as snow, and she had tan skin. She wore a red outfit which clung to her curvaceous form and showed off her thighs. It was also low cut, drawing attention to her ample bust. Long heeled red boots were on her feet, and she had a red cap on her head.

It was not the picture of a priest of the light.

'I am Sally Whitemane of the Church of Light.' she said. 'How may I aid you Captain Falric?'

'First I should like to know of what has been happening in Hearthglen.' said Falric.

'Saiden Dethronan called upon us to fight against the undead.' said Sally. 'We have been leading groups of refugees here for some time. And also mustering what forces we can from these humble folk. Hearthglen is to be made into a stronghold for the light.

'We eagerly await the return of Mograine.'

'Well he won't come today.' said Falric. 'There are greater battles than Hearthglen to fight in.'

'The light will strengthen us.' said Sally. 'In time we shall triumph, and the foul dead shall be purged.'

'One can only hope.' said Falric.

He found he did not much like this woman. Her outfit was more suited someone from a brothel than a priestess. And her words held a manic tinge to them. He wasn't sure what it was.

'Falric, the refugees are coming!' said a soldier.

'Open the gates and let them in.' said Falric.

He made his way out to the gates. Whitemane went with him, clutching her staff. The doors began to open, but Whitemane motioned, and they stopped. Falric looked to her.

'We must check them for signs of the plague, Captain Falric.' said Sally 'The undead may have made traps. We must not let the taint of undeath spread to us.'

'The plague has already killed many.' said Falric 'If we don't let them in now all of them will die. Is that what you want?'

Sally considered it. '…Very well, but we must keep them confined where they can do no harm.'

'One moment.' said Falric. 'Let them in!'

The doors swung open and into the town streamed many people. Some were old; others were young. Men, women, children, all were fleeing before th scourge. A few were being carried. Falric approached the people who looked to him in awe.

'Captain Falric, thank goodness you are here!' said one. 'We feared we would be overrun!'

His reputation proceeded him, did it? That was strange. Falric was used to being an extension of his Prince's will. He hadn't been regarded as his own entity in some time.

'Excuse me, did any of you eat any grain shipments from Anderhol?' he asked.

'No.' said a man. 'Prince Arthas destroyed the shipments. We don't know why.'

'Excellent.' said Falric, before looking up to Whitemane. 'They aren't infected. Your militia will join us in the defense. Every man and strong lad able to bear arms in this force is to be equipped at the armory. Everyone fights tonight.'

'How do you know they aren't lying?' asked Sally, voice defiant.

'Why would they lie?' asked Falric. 'They don't know anything other than Prince Arthas told them. And since Prince Arthas viewed them as worth saving so do I.'

Whitemane remained silent for a long moment. '…You are indeed wise, Captain Falric. I see why Prince Arthas holds you in such esteem.'

'Hardly. I am merely practical.' said Falric. 'Find these people shelter!'

Hours passed during which more refugees arrived. Those able to fight were given what weapons could be found and assigned to one place or another. More and more of them streamed in, each with their own tales of horrors faced and suffered. Several of them had had very near calls with the undead.

However apparently Tirion Fordring had been part of those sent to aid the refugees. He and Jorad Mace fought several packs of undead sent after them. The people who spoke of Tirion did so with obvious awe. This irritated Falric more than he liked to admit.

And then came the call.

'The undead are coming!' cried a lookout. 'And there are orcs among them!'

Falric cursed and rushed to the wall. He looked and saw orcs, but he noticed many of them shambled rather than ran. Some had vicious wounds stitched up by wire. 'They are not orcs. They are undead raised from orcish corpses.

'Mal'ganis has combined both of my two favorite races. Open fire!'

The undead swarms approached the walls. The elves and dwarves unleashed a withering barrage. Many fell in moments. Yet to Falric's surprise they did not keep on coming, but pulled back out of range.

Then Falric saw their lead. It was a familiar orc. He'd seen Prince Arthas fighting him before. Seen him die. But now his red skin had gone pale. His eyes flamed with unholy light and he mustered his forces. He was speaking with a figure, clad in armor decorated with skulls and his face was hidden by a black hood.

'Prepare yourselves!' said Falric. 'Not one of the enemy must be allowed to make it over the walls! For the Alliance!'

'For the Alliance!' shouted the men.

Tirion Fordring made himself known. The hermit had returned shortly before the undead. Now he was clad in a footman's armor. Though he still held his old wooden hammer. He looked to Falric, who met his gaze.

'These undead are almost entirely orcs.' said Vereesa. 'Surely there must be graveyards in this land.'

'All the graveyards were emptied in the last battle.' said Whitemane. 'What we face here is the last gasp of the scourge.'

And then something happened that shocked Falric. The undead withdrew. As quickly as they had come, they turned tail and fled.

'They are retreating!' said Tirion in shock.

'Undead never retreat.' said Falric.

'They fear us!' cried Whitemane. 'The light has smiled on us this day and struck fear into the hearts of even the dead!'

'No. It didn't.' said Falric. 'Up until now, the undead have had practically limitless forces. But now those numbers are failing them. They timed their assault after Lord Uther had retreated. I do not think their purpose was conquest, but recruitment.

'And I do not think they were expecting to be resisted. We must pursue them at once.'

'We can't leave the village defenseless.' said Vereesa.

'I will go out again.' said Tirion. 'And I will follow with anyone will come with me and see to it that they do not do more harm. With luck, I can force them back to Alterac.'

'You will be hopelessly outnumbered.' noted Falric. 'And should they corner you-you will all die a quick and painful death, and suffer a long and painful unlife. By all means, rid me of your presence.'

Tirion sighed. 'Well, I'm not getting any younger as it is.'

'I will make sure Prince Arthas is notified of your efforts on our behalf.' said Falric.

'My thanks, Captain.' said Tirion with obvious sarcasm.

'Where is Rhonin during all this?' asked Vereesa suddenly. 'He should have been here?'

'Perhaps the Legion has blocked all teleportation from Dalaran.' said Falric. 'Or perhaps the fallback plan Arthas envisioned has gone through. Or your husband may have been killed in battle. Or he may be out of mana. There are many answers, and we have no means to know which one is true.'

'You are a comfort aren't you?' asked Vereesa.

'I am a soldier, not a therapist.' said Falric.

Tirion Fordring and the knights sallied forth after the dead.

Jubei'thos sped over the road, pausing now and again to direct his minions back into formation. Rivendare was bringing up the read and ensuring none of the undead broke off. The orc warrior felt more like a shepherd than a soldier right now.

He longed to sink his blade into flesh. But the Lich King's will had directed him to draw back his men. As the retreat continued, he finally had a spare moment. Rivendare came riding along then.

'Why did you force us to withdraw?' asked Jubei'thos. 'Had I entered the battle I could have gained victory!'

'Peace, Jubei'thos.' said Rivendare. 'The corpses you gained from the villages you attacked were our goal. It was fortunate that not all of them had burned their dead. Our numbers have swelled, and we may now withdraw to the safety of Alterac.'

'Safety is not the way of the warrior.' said Jubei'thos.

'And yet they need it.' said Rivendare. 'Without a base of operations, no army will stand. The army you have mustered will go a long way to securing Alterac. Now we must be off. We have a meeting with Lord Mannoroth to plan.'

Mannoroth? Jubei'thos was to speak with him? Why? Was not the Legion at odds with the scourge?

Before he could ask there was a horn call. Out of the trees rushed a force of humans. Most of them were poorly equipped, using axes or spears and no real armor. But there was a core among them who wielded the light and wore armor. Under their leadership, they smashed into the rear column.

'For Lordaeron!' screamed a manic voice. 'Purge these undead!'

There were several flashes of light then, and many ghouls fell dead. Yet it was inevitable what would happen. The ghouls of the rear column closed in around them. The lighter armored ones were torn to shreds soon, and the rest looked like they would follow.

Fools. Still, they were brave fools.

'Who are these warriors?' wondered Jubei'thos. 'So few against all of us!'

'A pack of brigands.' said Rivendare. 'Add their corpses to the scourge.'

Then out of the trees came a force of knights. The white haired dpaladin was at their head wielding a hammer. 'Fear not!' he cried. 'You do not stand alone!'

He rushed into the undead and began laying about him. Jubei'thos drew his sword with a smile, but Rivendare gripped him by the shoulder. 'Enough of this. Minions, distract them while we complete our withdrawal.'

Jubei'thos glanced back. While the fighting had been raging Rivendare had continued the retreat. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'What they are fighting is only a fraction of our forces.' said Rivendare. 'But more of the Alliance forces may be on the way. Now is not the time to engage in a decisive battle, my friend. We must bide our time and bring them to battle on our terms.'

The Lich King agreed. Thus they withdrew.

The battle was ended. The rear guard of the undead was destroyed. Tirion had slain many. He was beginning to remember his old strength and was glad to once again ride with knights at his back. As he struck down the last fleeing ghoul, he wheeled round his horse and approached those he had saved.

'Well met.' he said. 'Who are you who has- Taelan?'

It was his son. His son was among them. The boy had grown up to be a man and was now clad in steel armor. In his hand was a mace gripped in two hands. Taelan looked at him in surprise. 'Father… what are you doing here?' he asked. 'Why are you commanding knights?'

'We cannot wait! We must pursue the undead!' roared a man with dark hair clad in priests robes. 'We must drive them before us and crush them all!' His eyes were manic, and he seemed in a frenzy.

'That's bloodlust speaking, not tactics.' said Tirion. 'The undead are much greater in number. They only withdrew because they feared to confront our whole army. We must secure Lordaeron.'

'The paladin is right, Issilian.' said another man, grim-faced and in his forties. 'Our men have been fighting all day. We cannot continue.' He turned to a beautiful red-headed woman wielding a sword and shield. 'Brigitte, my daughter, gather the bodies and set a blaze to them. Keep an eye out for any corpses we can add to the pyre.'

Brigitte nodded. 'It will be as you command, Father.'

The man looked up. 'Tirion Fordring, is it? Where are you and your men based?'

'We come from Hearthglen. We have recently defended it against an undead onslaught.' said Tirion. 'Who are you?'

'We are a band of warriors who have dedicated ourselves to purging the undead from these lands.' said the man. 'I am Ricor Abbendis. I lead these men. We have been using Mardonholde Keep as a base until now, but have ranged far afield of late. The war has gone well.'

'Not well enough.' said Tirion, wondering what the man's standard of measurement was. 'Even as we speak there are greater battles than this waging to the south in Dalaran.'

'I know. I have sensed it.' said Ricor. 'Many of my comrades wanted to seek it out. But we were sidetracked attempting to defend one of the villages in this region. The creeps have become bold with the marring of Lordaeron, and ever the undead are waiting.

'With luck, Alexandros will return soon.'

'Alexandros?' asked Tirion. 'Why do you wait for him?'

'Some weeks ago he brought to the Silver Hand an artifact of unholy energy.' said Ricor. 'We tried to destroy it by channeling the light into it. All the order of the Silver Hand pooled their powers. However, instead of being destroyed, it changed it into an object of supreme holy power.

'Alexandros took it to Khaz Modan to have it forged into a weapon. A weapon which we will use to destroy the undead once and for all!'

'I only hope it will be so.' said Tirion. 'I must return to Hearthglen. Will you come with us? It will benefit our cause to organize a proper resistance.'

Ricor looked to them. 'Yes, I think that would be wise. There will come a new order out of this. Dissent will only slow our ranks. We will go with you to Harthglen.'

Tirion had the feeling that this was the beginning of something. He wasn't sure that it would be a good thing. But he knew that there was no stopping it now.

Then there was a noise like thunder. Tirion looked up and saw the sky burning. The clouds churned. It seemed as if the air itself was screaming in agony. Something was entering this world. And Tirion knew that even if he and all the armies of Lordaeron were to set forth to Dalaran now, they would be too late.

He only prayed that others would not be.

Authors Note:

Okay, this chapter doesn't exactly fit into the main narrative. The reason for this is that I originally had one idea for the way things would go and I realized it wouldn't work. For one thing, Tirion Fordring was just one more paladin in a battle already filled with them. For another, I'd already established that Jubei'thos would be launching raids.

Falric and company are going to Hearthglen, as is Jubei'thos. Since both Falric and Jubei'thos are major characters in this fic I kind of have to show what happens. And then it turns into a complete anticlimax.

Putting Falric and Tirion in the same room together was fun, at least.