Chapter 28 - Rising Threats

The return to their little hideout was a gloom one, but as he pulled out the covers over the tree hole, Dalrus was surprised to see the elven woman sitting up with her bright silver eyes open and staring at him.

The boy immediately let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "I'm glad to see you're awake. How's the injury?" He asked as he began to climb down the hole.

The elf tried to stand up, but then let out a loud moan of pain and gripped her side.

"Hey! Take it easy, that wound is still open! Don't move around so much!" Dalrus snapped at her, then hurried to her side to try and help her lay down once more.

It was clear she wanted to resist, but maybe the pain was too great, or maybe she was just too weak. Either way, he set her back down on the muddy floor covered in leaves. "You were injured very badly. Had a broken piece of a spear buried between your ribs. You're lucky it didn't puncture your lung. I managed to remove it and patch up the hole, but healing isn't really my forte. So if you want to make it through, you're gonna have to rest, alright?" Her breathing was heavy, and her eyes were closed due to the pain. Dalrus furrowed his brows, then stood up, hands on his hips as he stared at the tired, laboring elf. "You're welcome, by the way."

Now she managed to reopen one eye and stare at Dalrus' face. "What... Do you want with me? Is it not enough..." She coughed, and Dalrus saw her wrap both arms around her own waist over the patched wound. "That you defiled our forests... Killed my sisters? Must you imprison... And humiliate me?"

To that, Dalrus could only furrow his brows even further. "Look, lady, you got it all wrong, alright? I never defiled anything, and I never killed anyone in your family either. Quite the opposite, I really risked my neck to save you from those orcs. You know, the tall, green-skinned brutes that really did all those things you said just now? I'm not with them."

Her breathing was still heavy. Dalrus began to wonder if she had a fever... And if he had enough healing potions to keep her alive if she did. "You're all the same... You outsiders march into our land... Cut down our trees... Slay the wisps and the animals of the forest. You have no respect for life!"

With a heavy sigh, the young rogue sat cross-legged a few paces away from her, his back resting against the muddy walls of their tiny cave. "You've got it all wrong, lady. I swear I've never cut any trees or killed any wisps in my life. And the only animal I ever killed was a boar with my father to help feed our family during the winter. If you think that's a sin you might as well go after every single bird in this forest too, because I saw at least three huge owls picking up snakes from the floor and carrying them to their nests. The only people I killed since coming here were those two muscleheads going after you that day."

The woman went silent after that, the only sounds coming from her being her heavy breathing and the occasional moans of pain. Finally, after a long and awkward silence, she said in a weak voice: "What... Do you want from me?"

Dalrus took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. "I don't want anything from you. I just... I saw you running away, desperate and scared... While everyone else died, and I just... I couldn't just leave you to die. I had to do something. I went back to search for more survivors, but... I'm sorry. The orcs, they..." Dalrus' hands tightened into fists over his lap as he was reminded of the ruined remains of the elven camp. "There was nobody else at your camp. I guess everyone else managed to escape through the forest..."

"No." She suddenly cut him off. Her face was now staring at the wall opposite to him. "They wouldn't flee... They would rather stay and die protecting the forest. And I..." Dalrus heard sobbing. "I should have died with them... But I... I was a coward. I was too scared... I couldn't do my duty... And I ran... I ran and left my sisters to die..."

"Hey!" Dalrus suddenly surged forward and grabbed her by her shoulders, forcing her to stare up at him. "That's enough of that. If you had stayed, you'd have just died a meaningless death. That's not performing your duty, alright? You have a new duty now. A new mission. You need to warn everyone about these invaders, OK? You know how they fight better than anyone now. You've seen what they can do. You can bring this information to your leader. You have a leader, right?"

Her eyes were very wide now, her mouth slightly agape. "Y-yes... Priestess Tyrande, and... There's also Cenarius... He watches over this forest."

Dalrus nodded as if he knew who hell she was talking about. "You think they would want you to die? No good leader would want something like that. Now, if you let me, I'm going to help you get back to your people... And fight back the orcs."

She was very silent once more. Dalrus was keenly aware of his hands squeezing her bare, warm shoulders. Again, he was surprised at how tense her body was, despite having such a gorgeous figure. "Why are you helping me?" She finally said. "And... Who are you?"

Letting go of her, Dalrus took a few steps back and sat cross-legged once more. "I'm Dalrus. And... I'm a human." It was quite weird to actually tell that to someone. "I come from a place called Gilneas. We were also attacked by the orcs in the past. My home land is now being invaded by demons and the undead. We were told that here, in Kalimdor, would be the only place we stood a chance against the Burning Legion. That's why we, the Human Expedition, crossed the sea until we found this place... But it looks like the orcs followed us. I..." Dalrus hesitated. He rememberd his conversation with the warchief, Thrall, now feeling so distant, despite it having ocurred less than a month ago. "I don't know what they want here... But I can tall you for sure this group is bad news. They are brutes and warmongers. And their leader is like a beast. I promise you, we, the Human Expedition, we don't want to hurt you. I'm sure if Lady Jaina were here, she'd be doing all in her power to make allies with your people."

This seemed like a whole lot for the elf to take in at once. Her gaze went up to the root-covered ceiling above them, but at least he saw that she wasn't struggling so much just to breathe anymore. "The Legion..." She spoke. "I heard they were defeated during the War of the Ancients, ten thousand years ago..."

"Yeah, I heard the same story... And now a crazy undead prince with a magic sword help them come back to our world." Dalrus scratched his head nervously. "Hey, listen... You must be hungry, right? If you'll trust me... I can go and get you some water and food." He stood up, slapping the loose twigs and dead leaves off his clothes. "I'm sure you probably want some time for yourself, too." He turned around and began to make his way towards the tree hole...

"Lyaera." Came the voice from behind him.

Dalrus stopped halfway out of the hole, then looked back over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"My name..." She was staring right into his eyes. That beautiful, silver glow coming from her orbs was enough to illuminate her entire face, and as he beheld the female elf laying there on the ground, wounded and scare, Dalrus couldn't help but think... Dear gods, those eyebrows were huge. He also figured it was probably a good idea not to tell her he already knew her name from all the sneaking around he had done prior to the attack.

He managed to flash her a smile. "Nice to meet you, Lyaera. Don't worry, I'll be back soon. Shouldn't be too hard to find some fruit and a river here." And with that, he was gone, making sure to cover the hole up once more once he was out.

The griffon rider squinted under his glasses, not daring to believe what his eyes were witnessing. But even as the wind rushed past his bald head and massive beard, it's loud, deafening sound losing only to the mighty wingbeat of the proud beast he was riding high up in the skies, there was no mistaking the fact he was staring at what appeared to be a zeppelin manned by orcs and goblins.

"Captain Baelyn!" One of his squadmates shouted to his right. "It really is a goblin zeppelin, and I see orcs there! What are yer orders?"

The dwarven captain Baelyn huffed, then reached down for his waist. For a moment, a warm, tingling sensation of comfort raced over his body. There was nothing comparable to taking hold of a stormhammer, then swinging the mystical weapon above his head, the thunderous cracking managing to drown out even the wingbeat of a griffon. "What do ye think, ya daft fool? Bring it down!" And with a mighty warcry, the riders engaged the zeppelin. But they weren't the only ones.

In the days following their retreat at the base of the mountains, Lady Jaina Proudmoore had the Human Expedition solidify their position amongst the peaks of Stonetalon mountains. They were very well entrenched there, counting with several bases along the jagged peaks of the mountainside and even around it's peaks. This was most likely a scouting party of the horde, but the watch towers below them were already shooting their arrows and cannon bolts at the trespassers.

The zeppelin began to return fire. Baelyn saw trolls and orcs readying arrows and spears off the edge of their transport. "EVASIVE MANEUVERS!" He shouted, and suddenly the three griffon riders broke their formation and spread out, just in time to evade a shower of deadly bolts from above. The dwarves began to engage in hit and run maneuvers, their storm hammers slamming against the zeppelin's sides and hull to satisfyingly loud effect. Before long, there was even a fire starting on the starboard.

The zeppelin, however, instead of engaging in evasive maneuvers of their own, seemed intent in going straight forward as fast as possible, apparently willing to accept all the incoming damage for the sake of arriving at it's destination sooner. Baelyn could see an orc encampment in the distance. There were more spear throwers and archers ready there, as well as catapults already being loaded. "Retreat! Retreat!" Baelyn shouted, and the griffon riders dove away from the flaming goblin zeppelin and regrouped at a safe distance, where they watched as the transport landed safely at the Horde camp.

"Captain! What shall we do now?" One of Baelyn's fellow riders asked as they flew closed to each other middair, their griffons straining to continuously beat their powerful wings and keep them relatively at the same spot.

Baelyn huffed, then took in a deep breath and shouted to be heard over the many combined wingbeats: "You, go back and report this ta' Lady Jaina! The resot of us will keep an eye on the Horde's movements. The rest o' ye, be ready ta' warn the rest of the troops if ya' notice any funny business over there! Move out, and keep a perimeter!"

Once his orders were obeyed and the dwarves were spread out around the edges of the orc camp, Baelyn couldn't help but worry. These past few days hadn't been kind to the Human Expedition... And he really wasn't liking the size of the Horde's forces. Following their defeat at the mountain's base, they had no choice but to retreat higher up into the mountain tops to make another stand against their old foes. If the Horde decided to attack them once more, their only route of escape would be those mysterious caves deeper into the mountain, and who knew what awaited them there. Morale was reaching a low among the troops, and they had suffered some bad casualties at the hands of the Warsong... Although now it looked as if that particular clan wasn't among the orc forces. Some good news, at least. But then it looked as if there were some more... Different people joining up the main Orc force. He couldn't see too well from that distance, but the fact he could still make out the vague figures of those huge, hulking bovine people they had seen inhabiting the wastelands below... If the Tauren were joining the Horde, that could spell trouble for them. The next few days would most likely be a war of attrition. Fortunately, the Horde still lacked means to do aerial battle with the Human Expedition's forces, other than those zeppelins.

"I don't like the look o' this..." The old Griffon Rider muttered to himself, then pulled his mount to do another scouting sweep along the fringes of the orc camp.

It was another two whole days before Lyaera could sit up with wincing in pain. Then another three before she could stand up on her own, which was fortunate for them, for the very day after, the Warsong's quest for lumber reached their hideout.

Along the course of that week, Grommash was not lazy in his task of building a massive base for the Horde. No less than five different camps were erected along Ashenvale forest on various spots. Dalrus could almost sense the pain Lyaera felt as she watched her beloved forest being put to axe and torch to make way for the killers of her people to build their own establishments.

During this time, Dalrus really got to know more about the elf and her people. Apparently, they were called the "Kal'dorei", or the night elves. It would seem they were the original elf race from which the high elves Dalrus was used to had descended from. Unlike the High Elves, and like their name implied, the night elves were a nocturnal people, who worshipped their moon goddes, Elune. Now Dalrus understood better why it felt as if the moon in this place was bigger and brighter than it was on Azeroth. If what Lyaera had told him was true, then this was an ancient land that belonged to that goddess, with the night elves being her children and chosen.

She had told him the nightborne had lived in these forests for thousands of years, and they were the ones who repelled the Legion's first invasion when their deluded queen Azshara unleashed them into Azeroth ten thousand years ago. Hers was a group of scouts who patrolled the forest, until the Warsong orcs arrived.

Lyaera herself was the newest member of the group who was out on her very first expedition outside of her home city of Tel'Drassil. She was relatively young for elf years; only fourty years old. Not even a full adult by her people's standards. Her people had lived in peace with nature for millenia... And now, all that was ruined by the orcs.

The treatment for Lyaera's wound was not an easy one. She couldn't move out much, and her bandages needed to be changed frequently. By the second day, Dalrus was already all out of healing potions. Fortunatelly, she had a wide knowledge of the local flora, and taught him what herbs could speed her recovery, as well as what leaves could be used for bandage replacements. She still had trouble moving, and needed plenty of rest, but overall, she was recovering nicely. Their new hideout from the orcs was just behind a beautiful fountain a long march away from their main camp. Furbolgs were often seen moving around that fountain... But a few words from Lyaera soothed them and made them welcome the pair's presence. It seemed that those ursine folk were not only intelligent enough to speak, they were also good friends of the night elves.

Dalrus, however, was only growing more and more worried about his own situation, as well as that of the Human Expedition he had been separated from over ten days ago now. They probably thought he was dead at this point. His brother was probably worried sick over him... Just how Dalrus was over Felrus. He wished he could contact him somehow, but as things were, getting on friendly terms with the locals was his best bet of getting out of this situation.

Their hideout was just behind a large stone formation a few yards from where the fountain was. There was a pleasant lake surrounding the fountain, where the furbolgs could often be seen moving back and forth to sate their thirst or hunt for game that would also come to this place. Things were starting to really look up to them. The Warsong had made absolutely no moves to explore that location, as it was quite out of their way... Even so, Dalrus had preffered that secluded spot because it would allow him to see anyone who came to this fountain before him and his companion could be seen.

And that caution was exactly what saved their lives.

Even years later, Dalrus would still have nightmares of what he witnessed that day. He had just finished switching Lyaera's bandages as she laid against the pleasant shade of the tall stones surrounding them - her people didn't do so well during the day, and that was usually when they slept - when he felt it. It was something unlike anything Dalrus had ever felt. It was as if the very air he breathed had become poison, stinging his lungs and making his eyes water. His skin felt warm and prickly as if he were surrounded by lames. His tongue felt dry and shrivelled inside of his mouth, and all air escaped his lungs. His entire body was paralyzed, with nothing but an impending sense of dread filling him. Through his connection with the void, he felt it. Something... Terrible. Something far more synister than he could conceive. As if horror itself had suddenly manifested physically someplace close to them.

Even Lyaera was feeling uneasy. She was beginning to shit as if she intended to get up. Dalrus instantly brought a finger up to his lips while his hand flew to her face and covered her mouth.

And then... They heard it. Dalrus would never forget those voices. He had heard orcs before. He had heard dwarves and even the savage furbolgs speaking in their feral tongue. But never in his life had he heard something so... Inhuman. It reminded him of that dark voice in his head, in that manner. Except these voices were so filled with malice in disdain, Dalrus felt more like a pair or rabbid hounds with a taste for human flesh had learned how to speak.

The first voice was the most terrifying one. It was deep and raspid, as if it were echoing from a deep pit. "Ashenvale forest. After ten thousand years, I still recognized this cursed place! This is the vale of our ancient enemy, the night elves' demigod, Cenarius."

The second, however, was dreadful in it's own way. Like it's owner was filled with the cunning of one who had betrayed a thousand people. "Yes, Lord Archimonde demands that Cenarius be destroyed before we launch the invasion of Kalimdor."

Through hand motions, he signaled that Lyaera should stay there, be quiet, and he would see what was going on. Her eyes were very wide with terror, and he could tell she was shaking. He wanted to comfort her, tell her it would be alright... But he did not dare utter a word that moment. For the first time in days, he drew from the power of the Void, covering himself in a layer of shadow energy like a veil... And vanished from sight.

Stealthed, Dalrus slowly - very slowly - moved around the edges of the stones that hid them from sight, all the while listening to those two... Things speak to one another. The first, the more monstrous one, was speaking once more: "I would relish the chance to face him again in combat, but he is crafty and rarely appears in the open."

What he heard next had his ice freeze in his veins. The second one spoke: "Fateful as it sounds, your pet orcs have recently despoiled these forestlands and incurred his wrath. Lord Archimonde and I believe that the orcs are capable of killing Cenarius for us."

Pet orcs? Someone who controlled them? And they wanted to kill Cenarius? Didn't Lyaera tell him that was the name of the demigod, son of Elune herself? Guardian of these forests and patron to all druids? Holding his breath, Dalrus peeked his invisible face over the edge of the stones...

Had Dalrus not witnessed far worse things during his younger days of training with his second teacher who turned out to be an ethereal - during those training sessions where she would have him dive into the Void itself and bear witness to the incorporeal horrors that lurked within - he would absolutely have screamed in terror of the grotesque creature standing next to the fountain. Dalrus had never seen a real demon up close before, but there was no doubt in his mind this was one. And a prime example at that.

First off, it was gigantic. As big as a two story house. From the waist down, the demon sported four powerful, stubby legs resembling a kodo, with a long reptilian tail laying on the ground behind him. The front of it's bestial lower half sported a huge metallic piece of armor, like a massive shield covering almost half of his body, held by chains. From the waist up, it's body was a sickly shade of gray, thick and muscular, with spiky pauldrons over it's shoulders, from which the chains holding his front armor came from. It's arms ended in four-fingered claws that looked more like fangs coming out of it's fingertips. On one hand, it was wielding the biggest weapon Dalrus had ever seen. It looked like a double-sided poleweapon, with a leaf-shaped blade as large as he was on each end. From the demon's back, massive bat wings protrudred, presumable just under his shoulders - Dalrus couldn't see that well. But the worst was the demon's head.

It's chin was thick, round and wide. From either side of it's face, horns resembling the tusks of a troll protruded forward. Dalrus didn't want to imagine how many people the demon had probably killed by lowering it's head and impaling people on them. It's mouth was filled with jagged teeth resembling glass shards, or maybe one of those carnivorous fish Dalrus had seen being hauled by the fishermen of Gilneas' port once - sharks, he thought those were called. Each time the demon opened it's mouth, Dalrus could see a ghastly green glow coming from within, the same as the demon's eyes, which looked more like hollow pits from which the glow emanated. The source o that glow was clear upon looking at the demon's head; it's skull was cracked wide open like an egg missing it's upper half, and from within, demonic green flames were perpetually burning like a chandelier. This demon then opened it's hideous mouth to speak once more: "They would have little chance against Cenarius. If memory serves, his powers were quite formidable."

"Yes, but so are yours." Dalrus' attention was drawn to the second demon there - for there was no doubt, that's what it was. This one was far smaller... It could almost pass for a human, were it not for the enormous bat wings coming from it's back, the cruel-looking horns sticking up from it's bald head, the long claws in it's hand looking more like daggers and the hooves it had instead o feet. The demon was covered in deep red plate armor, and the only bits of it's flesh Dalrus could actually see were it's pale head - which sported crimson eyes and a long face with canines sharp enough to match a worgen's. "The blood pact that you made with the orcs long ago still binds them to you. You need only recharge their energies."

The larger demon then turned to face the smaller one, each of it's steps making the earth below tremble. "Just what are you suggesting, dreadlord?"

The smaller one then pointed at the fountain. "Spill your blood into this pool. Its corruption will lure the orcs to it, and once they've tasted your blood again, they will be unstoppable!"

Dalrus saw the larger demon's skull-like face twist into a horrible parody of a smile. Without uttering a word, it lifted one arm over the fountain, and with the other, he brought his weapon down over his wrist. Blood, icorish and of a deep emerald tone began to gush out and mix with the pristine waters below.

The water began to change. It's crystaline purity began to mingle with the demon's green blood... And suddenly it became a deep, horrific shade of deep red that resembled normal blood. Dalrus saw the stones that comprised the fountain become dark and cracked, the grass surrounding it grow brown and die, and the very air was filled with a miasma of... Evil. It was that moment Dalrus realized... Spread all over the floor surrounding the fountain were the gory mortal remains of the furbolgs who guarded that place for them.

As Dalrus watched the fountain's corruption in horror, the only other sound besides his heartbeat drumming in his ears were the demon's maniacal laughter. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAH!"