Chapter 1

Veren Redmorning stepped onto the mossy floor of the wood and was almost blinded by the light. He covered his eyes, swearing, as he stumbled away from the portal. A moment later he ran into another body, and reached out to seize a muscular arm.

"Who's that?" he said, even as he recognized the long scar on which his hand had fallen.

"It's me, Chieftain," said the warrior Lev Darksun. "It takes a minute to get used to it. Wait'll you see what the sky looks like here."

"What am I standing on?" The ground felt oddly soft under his thin hide shoes.

"It looks like some kind of plant. There seem to be more of them here than in Outland. I wonder if this really is Kalimdor?"

"The warlocks will have to tell us that," Redmorning said.He risked opening his eyes a fraction, and found himself looking at the scarred red hide of Lev's arm. He looked around at the springy gray-green stuff on which they stood. Tall, straight plants surrounded them, some with stems thicker than an Orc's body.

"Well, we're in some kind of forest, if what I've heard is right," he said. "I suppose there's no way to know whether we've reached Ashenvale."

"Where are the warlocks?" Darksun asked.

"They were right behind me," said Redmorning, and turned just in time to see the four warlocks come through the portal.

Well, mostly. At least, there were probably enough parts to make up a good three and a half.

The portal shrank to a pinpoint of light and vanished. Fifty Orcs stood among the first trees they had ever seen, and squinted in the harsh new light at the remains of four old warlocks.

"What happened?" asked a raider. The wolf she rode stood with its eyes firmly shut and ears flattened against its head.

"Whatever it was, it looks permanent to me," Redmorning said. Someone snickered. "We'll bury them here, where the portal was. Raise a mound for each. Then we'll see what we can find for food and shelter. Stay alert. We don't know what kind of enemies we may find here."

The Orcs shook off their paralysis and went to work. It was hardest for the peons, with no helmets to shade their eyes. Veren, likewise helmetless, risked a look at the sky above the clearing. Long branches framed the glaring firmament above.

"Demons," he swore under his breath. "It really is blue."

While the burial went on, Redmorning skirted the edges of the open space, staring between the scarlet-skinned grunts who guarded the edges. Deep shadow lay under the trees, but shafts of the yellow-white light of the new world fell here and there. After a few moments, Lev Darksun paced up beside him.

"Every bloody thing is green here," he said. "We're going to stick out like Naga out of water. How are we going to stalk anything?"

"We'll wait until dusk," Veren said. "Dark is dark, no matter what color the sky is in daylight. Start picking out the grunts with the best night vision, and have Kerd Bladeleaper start on the wolf riders. We'll need some to hunt for us, and some to scout for a real place to stay. This clearing isn't defensible. We need stone at our backs."

Lev glanced around, then moved slightly closer. "You knew at least two of those warlocks," he said.

"I knew them all," Veren said quietly.

"So why the joke?"

"Because we're in a strange place," Veren said. "Fear can kill us before we even know what to be afraid of. There was no time to mourn in Outland, and we can't assume we'll have time here. Not at first."

"You're the Chieftain," Lev said. "I'm gonna go find Bladeleaper. She'll want to get started right away."

The peons seemed to have organized themselves right away, with some digging, some moving the earth, and some collecting bits of warlocks. They were not squeamish. Nothing that lives in Outland is.

As Veren passed them on his continuing circuit, he saw one squat Orc pause on the brink of a new pit.

"Need a hand, here," the peon said. Another peon obediently passed one over. "No, this is a left hand. He's only gonna want one of those."

"We got no right ones left," the other peon said with a shrug. "Maybe he can get another one wherever he is."

"I hope they got demons there," the first peon said, accepting the severed limb and placing it carefully in the new grave.

"Why?"

"'Cause our warlocks are gonna want something to do," he said.