I own nothing. And am slow as all hell.
Chasing Through Hell
On the Edge of the Storm
The wind howled. If the last two months was anything to judge by, it always did in the Blade's Edge Mountains. It screamed down through canyons and ravines, making sleep and rest come hard, slinging stinging sand into eyes and exposed skin and cutting straight to the bone. More than once, Maurus had wondered whether the mountains had been named more for the wind's bite than for the spikes and blades that the wind had cut the mountains into over the centuries.
On the eastern ledge of the mountains, at the edge of the Netherstorm, where the sky had purpled with heavy, roiling clouds, the wind was even louder, the sound of a roaring beast, underscored with a ceaseless rumble of thunder. The air buzzed with a faint electricity that made Maurus' fur stand up and smelled of ozone and fel.
The Horde camp clung to the top of the most eastern ridge of the mountains and Maurus stood at the edge of the camp, in position with the rest of the Torn wing. The land sloped down from where he was until it fell away entirely into a massive, possibly bottomless gorge separating the Blade's Edge from the Nethertorm. A wide stone bridge spanned the dizzying gap to the dark, purplish stone of the nearest Netherstorm island, the only path over for fifty miles, and it wasn't undefended. Opposite the Horde camp, less than a quarter of a mile from the bridge, a Legion camp sprawled out amongst the shattered stone. The mess of tents and rough, vaguely orcish buildings were centered around a collection of black metallic structures over which acid green crystal floated, burning with fel flame. Demons and fel orcs swarmed throughout the camp, their brightly colored skin making them easy to make out against the purple stone.
Maurus swallowed and suppressed a shiver. The advance through the mountains had been worse than the trek over from Hellfire to Zangarmarsh in every way. It had taken more than two months to reach the edge of the mountains, two months of ambushes and mortar bombardments that had added twenty-one dead to the tally in his mind and taken hundreds of lives in total. And the Legion would have claimed many more if it hadn't been for the flying units the alliance contingent, both of whom had seemed almost reckless in their fervor, especially the former, for flying in such winds.
The Netherstorm would probably be worse. From what he could see, it lived up to the tales, a crumbling, ruined landscape that was wholly in the Legion's control, unlike the Blade's Edge, where the Gronn and ogres had always kept the demons' grip somewhat tenuous. Making matters worse, the bridge Maurus was looking down at was one of only a handful that connected the shattered isles to the rest of Outland, ensuring that gaining a foothold would be dangerous and costly. Already, several attempts to take the bridge had been repulsed and the 27th and the 12th had been sent to reinforce the two regiments already there, relocated from where they had been positioned to contain the Death's Door portal camp.
His mouth twisted when he again felt the suspicion that they were hurrying because the Alliance were coming. The Alliance were besieging The Black Temple and had it so well in hand that they were sending forces north and Maurus were sure that at least some commanders would rather push recklessly forward than accept Alliance help.
He wished he hadn't though of that and even more that he hadn't thought of the active, Legion-controlled portal behind them, even if it was as contained as possible. Knowing that there was even a possibility of the Legion hitting them from the rear added to the nervousness he felt at having to take the crossing. There was a squirming in his stomach and his heart was beating a little heavier than it ought to, making him feel as if he hadn't grown at all since he had entered Demon Fall Canyon.
With conscious effort, Maurus dragged his gaze away from the camp and looked at the people around him. The familiar faces, or rather, the familiar outfits and helmets, did soothe some of his anxiety and the tension he saw in their bearing made him feel less cowardly. Seeking further distraction, he turned an ear to the conversation in the rank behind him and found his lips quirking. The subject was a contentious one and had been covered with varying degrees of heat since the announcement.
"So they're going to traipse all over our lands now and we aren't allowed to put them in their place?" Saru grumbled sourly.
"Goes both ways," Taka said and Maurus guessed from his tone that she shrugged as she said it.
"Right, because Dustwallow is a place worth visiting. I hate being dry and free of mosquito bites," Saru responded flatly.
"Should free up more forces for securing the trade routes, I think," Dromon said in a reasonable tone. "Might lower the price on bits and that Desertwind Wine, if it takes less to get it through the Needles."
That got a thoughtful grunt from Saru. "I guess," he said, sounding mostly mollified. A moment later, he added in a perplexed tone: "What the Warchief wants with Proudmoore is beyond me though."
Maurus had some ideas, though he was also still reeling somewhat from the news of the union of the Warchief and the arch mage.
"Peace," Taka said confidently, mirroring some of Maurus' thoughts. "And maybe he finds her agreeable."
"But she's just a human! All skin and bones and pink skin," Saru protested.
"Also a chieftain in her own right and powerful enough to shred a pit lord with her blizzard. That's something," Dromon said. Tone amused, he added: "And not the biggest mismatch I've seen."
Taka snorted and said: "True, Elfsplitter and his-"
The comment was cut short by a sound of impact before Dromon harshly hissed Taka's name. Maurus felt his irritation vanish, soothed by the relief of not having to turn around and deal out discipline himself. At least, not this time. He felt no shame about his relationship with Arianna, quite the opposite by now, but he did not appreciate the nickname and he did not want it to stick.
He glanced at Arianna, who lazily tilted her head towards him. A flicker of flame lit up her hand, but she extinguished it with a flick of her wrist as her chest rose and fell in a sigh. Then she shrugged, though Maurus did notice that Ash's hackles remained raised.
"Not the only weird arrangement either," Buka contributed drily. "We've got the opposite combination of size and skin color too."
Despite himself, Maurus turned his head and ears a little, the motion making him once again notice the difference in the weight of the horn on his helmet and his own. The four behind him didn't elaborate, instead just chuckling, but Mathias silently pointed over his shoulder. Maurus gaze fell on Wiven, before returning to Mathias, who gestured to him, or rather, his shoulder. Widget was back in the center of the camp, having lost her taste for combat, but there was no doubt that her spot was what Mathias had looked at.
Maurus raised an eyebrow in disbelief and snorted. "You're joking."
Mathias shrugged and Maurus glanced at Wiven. He and Widget had been spending a lot of time together, with Wiven working to get Widget used to fire again and it had seemed to help both of them. Widget had regained her enthusiasm for gunpowder and Wiven had recovered to an extent. He was still gaunt and his skin was still tinged with grey, but he had been able to work on enchanting Widget's pauldrons for about a week, a successful test of control, according to Arianna.
Maurus' little group had definitely been more helpful than the cold, borderline scorn sergeant Thalmir and many of the blood elves treated him with, but now that he thought about it, Widget had been the one who had spent most time with Wiven, often fiddling with her new gun right next to the mage.
In Maurus' opinion, Buka's suggestion was still quite a leap though.
"You're as bad a gossip as they are," Maurus said. "More of a romantic than you'd expect of a forsaken too."
That got another relaxed shrug.
That was another thing. Mathias had been curiously at ease during their move through the mountains. With the pressure of the advance, which had put everyone on edge and led to more than one altercation, Maurus had expected Mathias' obsession with Ven'Zarul and his at times acerbic personality to cause problems. Not least because the dry climate was obviously bad for him. But other than making sure Arianna still had a sense of the dreadlord, he had been remarkably quiet. He'd even been a calming influence a few times, once breaking up a hissed argument Maurus had had with Arianna over an issue he couldn't even properly recall now.
Maurus smiled slightly. It seemed Mathias had accepted that Ven'Zarul was somewhere in the Netherstorm and that there were some steps that needed to be taken before they could hunt in earnest.
'Some very dangerous steps' Maurus thought, as horns sounded the signal to advance and his stomach flipped. Behind them, kodos snorted and bellowed and wood groaned as they pulled catapults and stone-filled wagons into motion. Further around them, the other regiments started forward and to the south, the Alliance contingent got into position, draenei moving forward while night elves and humans formed up around a battery of ballistae and mortar teams. On the opposite side of the bridge, the demons flowed forward into their own formations. Felguards and fel orcs formed into tight groups, felhounds and imps forming around them and further back, succubi and fiends gathered, flapping their dark wings restlessly.
Maurus leaned a little to the side and said to Arianna: "Not sure I'm happy that we are good at line-breaking."
"I told you: You were stupid to volunteer to climb the walls and you were stupid to volunteer now," Arianna said. Her voice was light, but he could hear the tension underneath. Again, he found a bit of odd relief in it, in the companionship of it and he shifted his grip on his axe.
"It's stupid to even be here. But duty calls. And I have gotten something out of it," he said, with half-forced bravado, nudging her with an elbow. In front of him, the tauren warriors found their places along with the burliest orcs, while slimmer warriors filled the gaps between them.
She glanced at him and with eyes crinkled by his smile he said brightly: "A bunch of good friends."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"And when we make it through here, we'll get something out of it too. Something you can make poetry about," he added easily.
That got a snort. "Crude," she admonished half-heartedly.
Maurus swallowed as they neared the bridge Thankfully, he had not been part of the disastrous first attacks, when both mortars and summoned infernals had hammered the bridge and forced the Horde forces back.
He swallowed again when the demon flyers took to the air, rising like a murder of enormous crows. He felt the tension spread along the soldiers around him and he could see the faint flickers as magic gathered in the hands of his casters.
The demons didn't descend on them though, but instead split into two groups that veered off toward the closing Alliance and Horde artillery, flying low to avoid the higher, wilder winds.
Maurus only noted that in passing. He was far more concerned with the stunted, malformed gan'arg engineers and the damnable mortars and the actual shield wall of fel orcs and fel guards positioned at the far side of the bridge and the bridge itself. He could just barely make out the scorch marks on the bridge and the remnants of swirling grooves in the acid-scarred stone. Removing the summoning circles by way of catapulted acid-containers had been a stroke of genius and one of the few collaborations between trolls and forsaken he could wholeheartedly support.
When the flyers had passed them entirely and the shouts and blaring horns sounded behind him, Maurus took a deep breath and roared the order to charge.
The Torn Wing sprang into motion alongside him, and Maurus' heart thundered along with the sound of hooves and boots and iron-shod feet. An ululating cry rose from the throats around him as the shamans worked their spells on the regiment and Maurus felt the subtle stirring of magic in earnest as the casters prepared their spells.
The bloodlust steeled his courage, made his blood pump warm and strong through his veins and seemed to sharpen his senses. He could smell old blood on the air, the noise rose in volume and he could make out the glass shards and scraps of wood still littering the bridge. But his mind remained clear, now that he was used to the spell and instead of narrowly focusing on the enemy ahead, he looked up into the violet clouds. With his seemingly sharper sight, he could just barely make out the lunatic wind riders living up to their names, diving recklessly through the wild winds, silent and unnoticed, now that all eyes were on Horde ground forces.
Maurus grinned, a half-nervous, half-triumphant expression, as his hooves hit the stone of the bridge. He had been told that the mortars had only begun firing after the attackers had been stopped by the Legion line the last few times, but he was very aware that they were within range now. His stomach flipped queasily, and it was not helped by the almost tangible feeling of the endless drop beneath him.
The front rank shouted defiance as they crossed the bridge, hurling axes and spears into the demons before crashing into their line. The impact was deafening to Maurus' ears and even a few ranks back, he felt the impact almost as clearly as when he was in the front rank.
Despite the guilt he felt at not being in the front rank, he was glad for the better vantage it gave him. As weapons rose and fell and the air grew thick with incantations and the pressure of magic, he held his breath and watched the gan'arg contingent.
Too late, some of the demons looked up and he breathed a sigh of relief when the wind riders reached their targets practically unmolested. The artillery units were thrown into immediate disarray by volleys of javelins, flasks of acid and bolts of lightning and deadly stingers and slavering jaws quickly increased the death count.
Maurus returned his gaze to the battle in front of him, where it wasn't going quite as well. The enemy line was holding fast despite the heavy blows from the tauren, though the enemy wasn't doing much damage to the 27th. Flame, electricity and freezing cold were hurled at the demons, but the way the magic seemed to fizzle so that only a fraction seemed to have an impact had Maurus convinced that there were a lot of fel hounds within the enemy force. The arrows and bolts that came from beside the casters had more of an impact, particularly Kiluq's massive arrows.
He glanced back, past the spell slingers, hunters and the billowing banner of the Torn Wing and found the Legion flyers being repelled from the artillery by a good portion of the force on the slope. The group he was looking for was unengaged however and as he turned his gaze forward again, he nodded at Malri.
The orc shaman flung one more bolt of lighting at the demons before raising a dark horn to his lips and blowing two distinct, mourning notes. There was a moment of hesitation and then Maurus felt the Torn Wing shift, changing formation in a movement that felt ponderous but which he had learned was actually remarkably quick. Where before they had spanned the bridge, now they left the left side open, that flank held by Calen, a few other paladins and Trokil's men.
Fel orcs followed, gleefully slipping around the flank, seeing weakness to exploit and Maurus grinned at their mistake, confident in the sturdiness of the formation and in his reserves. The orcs had hardly filled the gap between railing and Horde when the Torn Wing's reserve joined the fray. The forty-seven trolls and orcs had managed to obtain new mounts to replace the ones they had lost in Zangermarsh and now a spearhead of howling wolf- and raptor riders hurtled into the fel orcs to the sound of kodo-skin drums.
The Legion's flankers hadn't had time to solidify their line and the cavalry charge drove them back, claw, fang and steel tearing apart fel orcs by the dozens. Maurus' group followed, a barrage of magic from the blood elves incinerating more of the left flank and the enemy formation began to buckle.
Maurus' heart hammered as he shouted the command to advance and was answered by a roar from his soldiers. If they could cross the bridge and the Horde artillery survived the Legion flyers, the chances of capturing the other side was looking better. If the Horde was the only side with artillery, the Legion's superior numbers would be far less useful and could be mostly kept at bay while the Horde forces crossed the bridge.
The enemies on the bridge were buckling, their left flank collapsing rapidly and the Torn Wing cavalry were preparing to withdraw or storm forward to avoid getting bogged down by the enemy reinforcements. To his surprise, Maurus felt the same exhilaration he usually felt when he was in the thick of the fighting, only slightly marred by the urge to let his tension come out as violence. He could hear Arianna's invocations and easily recognized the shadowy bolts and greenish fire she flung and he could feel the heat from Wiven's magic pass by his opposite side.
Ahead, he could see Mathias fighting side by side with Drunnya and a brown tauren named Bogu and had an odd feeling of wrongness. It was forgotten a heartbeat later though, when a flash of acid-green light almost blinded him and drew shouts of surprise from To'ro and his cavalry.
Squinting against the spots in his vision, Maurus saw six demons in the spot where the light had been. Five of them were hulking, green, winged forms, towering over both felguards and tauren, with heads that were mostly mouth and horns and heavy swords in each hand. The sixth was tall and spindly like a spider, a resemblance only heightened by her six arms and the jagged, flaming headdress she wore. She was clad in armor reminiscent of the scraps succubi wore and brandished four swords, each of which were long enough that Maurus would have to wield it with two hands. Her acid-green eyes glowed with flame and malice and dark conviction and when the shivarra shouted a stream of Eredun, Maurus recognized the sound of fanatic faith despite only understanding the words 'blood', 'burn' and 'lord'.
Worse, he actually felt the burning presence spread from the demonic priestess and a new light came into the eyes of demons and fel orcs. A roar of zealous rage rolled out from the Legion forces and the advance stopped cold. To'ro barely avoided the slash of the shivarra's blades and Bar'il and Druga weren't so lucky, both getting torn off their mounts by the demons' blades and Druga tumbled over the edge of the bridge, limp as a broken doll.
Maurus suppressed his first impulse, to leap forward and instead swept his gaze up the slope ahead. To his dismay, he could make out a similar group hacking their way into the wind riders, who were already leaping into the air and separating to present a less densely packed target to the warlocks and demons converging on them. Most importantly though, it did not look like gan'arg had all been slain and already, a number of them were righting their mortars.
Maurus looked over his shoulder and found that, although reinforcements were at the edge of the bridge, they were not moving forward, having spotted the failure of the wind riders as well. Further back, Horde soldiers had engaged the Legion flyers, but the artillery were not free yet and the flyers were not withdrawing yet.
Maurus could feel the pressure mounting and the cavalry was struggling, defanged by the loss of their momentum. He considered the path behind them, back over the bridge and dreaded the impending bombardment. Then his gaze fell on the shivarra and a thought occurred to him. The priestesses were rare and powerful and far from expendable, among the top of the demonic hierarchy.
"Sound the retreat," Maurus barked at Malri, before starting forward toward the left flank, slinging his shield from his shoulder and securing his axe. The horn rang out over the battle, a sound of bitter failure to him, but he bit down the annoyance and shouted to To'ro: "Don't kill the shivarra, hold it! Kill the fiends!"
"Killing isn't the problem, boss!" To'ro shouted back, making his wolf dance back to avoid three sweeps of sickly glowing swords.
"Calen, give us room!" Maurus shouted, but Calen was already moving. With a swing of his hammer and a muttered word, light scorched out through the eyes and mouth of one of the pit fiends. It froze in agony and with its guard down, several arrows took it in the chest and head, sending it to the ground.
As Maurus took his place beside him, blocking a bone-jarring blow from another pit fiend, Calen's entire body erupted with golden light. He stepped in front of two reeling wolf riders and a flurry of the shivarra's attacks simply bounced off him instead of connecting with the cavalry.
Maurus gritted his teeth against a blast of flame, glad Arianna had been hard at work on his armor as well as his shield, and blocked and deflected several more blows. Glancing around him, he could see that the retreat was progressing somewhat smoothly and the lack of explosions told him that his hunch had been correct. As long as the shivarra was in the thick of the fighting and the Legion was winning, the mortars would remain silent.
The shivarra's eyes found Maurus' and his mouth felt suddenly dry as that hellish light focused on him. He raised his shield and mace, angling himself against the four swords that came down on him and he managed to avoid getting slashed to ribbons, but the strokes overbalanced him and actually spun him as he lost his footing. Vertigo and terror flashed through him as he looked up at the upside-down demon and the fel orcs going in for the kill.
Then he heard the familiar voice of Arianna rise in a enraged, screaming incantation and he looked down. She must have followed him when he moved, because she was right behind the warriors and once again, he found himself enraptured by her furious expression, the flash of magic around her fingers and the power that flowed out from her. There was a stutter in the hellish prayer and when Maurus looked up, he saw the shivarra straining against bands of flame, the two fel orcs beside her falling to their knees with agony written in their expressions.
An armored fist helped Maurus to his feet and as he rose and spun to face the enemy, he gathered his wits and barked: "Arianna-"
Before he could finish the sentence, something shot through the air and there was a cracking sound of impact before the shouts of hellish prayer stopped entirely. The shivarra was flung back and landed, sprawling, on top of several of her allies. Her swords had fell from her hands, wounding several demons and her face twisted in furious disbelief as she looked at the ballista bolt buried in her rib cage. She gurgled wetly and then bolts of magic and steel slammed into her chest and face, tearing her apart and extinguishing the fel flame in her eyes and headdress.
To'ro cheered and dozens of voices took up the cheer, but Maurus felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. The demons had recovered and the pressure of all the troops behind them had grown so big that his unit couldn't possibly drive them back even with the ballistae bolts that exploded among the enemy formation.
Worse, the gan'arg had recovered.
He glanced back at the bridge. They had only made it a little of the way back and there was still a long way to the safe distance from the mortars.
"Full retreat," he shouted at Malri. More generally, he roared: "Fast pace, shield's up!"
Even without the shivarra, the Legion force fought with the ferocity she had inspired and Maurus felt the confidence of the bloodlust fading, both in himself and those around him. Pain bloomed in his arms and across his shoulders as he shielded those around him from the blows of the pit fiends and half-way across the bridge, his head was ringing from a blow that had clipped his helmet.
He looked up, then back along the bridge. As he did, he noticed Wiven glance up and felt his jaw drop when he flung a fistful of fire straight up and a boom rolled down over them.
"Casters! Fire! Earth!" He roared and Malri reacted to his words with another loud horn signal. The air around him grew blistering as the casters reacted and the ground trembled. His heart hammered and his body thrummed with urgency and suddenly, he felt that sense of connection again. As Ash and the other familiars came launched themselves into the demons and fire and earth elementals threw themselves at the pit fiends, Maurus slammed his hoof down on the ground and the pit fiend and the fel orcs in front of him reeled back. Bursts of light flew from the hands of paladins and priests, stunning the enemies while a rain of flaming rocks made them falter and stumble back.
In the room that gave them, the Torn Wing drew back and fell into full retreat. The rear of Maurus' force was already sprinting and soon after, Maurus was running full speed as well.
They could not have cut it any closer, because the gan'arg had begun firing. An explosion deafened Maurus' right ear and drew blood from his mailed leg. A few steps later, he physically hauled a troll and an orc with him, dragging them from the carnage a mortar shell had created two thirds of the way across the bridge.
Bile and shame was far more present than the pain when he reached the other side of the bridge. The Legion hadn't pursued them, but twenty or thirty mangled corpses lay on the bridge behind him because of the gan'arg. In front of him, he finally saw the Legion flyers retreating, reduced to a small fraction of their number and as he turned around again, he saw the projectiles of the artillery tear holes in the withdrawing enemies.
It was too little and too late though and once he had handed the two wounded over to Sithari, one of the blood elf priests, he took off his helmet and spit bitterly onto the dusty ground. He glared hatefully across the bridge at the Legion forces returning to their camp.
After a few moments, he felt a presence beside him and there was a light pressure on his arm.
"Don't-" Arianna began.
"I know this wasn't a total loss," he interrupted her. "Their artillery are down to maybe a quarter strength and their flyers are decimated."
He looked at her and saw red on her face and dark patches on her robes. With more urgency, he asked: "Are you hurt?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. I'm not the one too stubborn for my own good." Her expression darkened. "Caught the spray from Miran."
Maurus swallowed. "We may be a step ahead, but this still doesn't feel like a victory. Any idea about our losses?"
"Fourteen, plus whoever doesn't make it through. Mathias' arm is full of shrapnel. Calen broke his arm, again."
Maurus nodded grimly. "Damn them all."
"They are," Arianna said.
Something in her voice made him look at her and place a comforting hand around her side. With gentle emphasis, he said: "That is exactly what it means, throwing in with the Legion, yeah. We'll send them to the hell they deserve."
That chased away the discomfort on her face and with his spirits buoyed slightly by having cheered her up, he turned from the carnage and followed his soldiers up the slope, trying to ignore the sounds of agony around him.
The days passed in a harrowing blur as they remained on the edge of the Netherstorm. The Horde tried six more times, two of them with The Torn Wing in a significant role but no great change happened. The Legion's losses were much worse than the Horde's, in great deal thanks to the artillery imbalance, but the demons used rapid deployment to stop any attempt to cross the bridge, negating the artillery advantage by only coming within range to engage the Horde troops. Reinforcements also arrived on both sides, ensuring the stalemate.
Almost two weeks later, days before more Alliance forces were bound to arrive, Maurus found himself fuming in his tent, irrationally annoyed at Arianna's easy sleep. He knew he ought to sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, familiar faces played behind his eyelids, phantom screams filled his ears and a helpless rage made sleep escape him.
In an attempt to calm himself, he drew Arianna closer. Her snores stopped and one eye cracked open just slightly.
"Not now. Sleep," she murmured drowsily, but rolled readily into his embrace and that drew a small smile from Maurus, despite his inner turmoil.
"Do that, Love," he murmured, resting his chin against her head and folding his ears so he was listening to her breathing. From outside came the ever-present noise of the camp, the sound of life and metal, fire and beasts. Much more sound from the beasts than usual, he noticed after a few moments. There was the howling and yips of wolves, the bellowing of the kodos and louder voices than he usually associated with the time between night and early morning.
He opened his eyes and frowned. 'A morning attack?' He wondered. 'But then, why aren't we all informed?'
For a moment, he tried to extricate himself from Arianna's arms, but when that failed, he simply sat up, dragging her with him. She made an unhappy sound and said flatly: "You are a terrible pillow today."
"Something is happening," he answered.
Still without opening her eyes, Arianna said: "And we'd know if we were supposed to be part of it."
That was true, Maurus knew. The sounds were urgent, but not the kind he had come to associate with ambushes or attacks on the camp. There was much less blaring horns, for one.
He had hardly thought that thought when he heard a distant, blaring horn. Another answered and soon, there was a distant chorus of horns and the faint sound of howling Horde. There was a moment of panicked confusion before he recognized the attack signals for what they were and the answering horns from his camp made him come fully awake. In his arms, Arianna had tensed too and in a few moments, they were both tumbling out of the tent, barely clothed.
The Horde cavalry was charging down the slope, a spearhead of kodos surrounded by wolf- and raptor riders. It was a tactic they hadn't used before, the kodo riders being too valuable to send into range of the artillery, but that was a moot point now. The Legion artillery was turned toward the Horde already on the other side, on the Netherstorm side of the Legion camp. Banners Maurus hadn't seen in at least a month waved like spots of flame and blood as at least two thousand Horde followed them down into the demon camp and the fel orcs holding the bridge suddenly looked awfully vulnerable.
Mathias tumbled out of his tent just in time to see the cavalry smash into the fel orcs and he met Maurus' vicious smile with one of his own.
"Get up! Up, you lazy ogre dung!" Maurus shouted, probably pointlessly, at the people crawling out of their tents all around him. As he did, he was already reaching for his gear, grabbing Arianna's new, simple staff as he did. He wasn't even disappointed that he was missing the glory this time, only vindictively thrilled to see the Legion forces crumble between the cavalry and the Horde coming down the hill.
By the time the Torn Wing was organized and ready to move down the hill, the Legion camp was in chaos and the addition of two Horde regiments from the Blade's Edge side had turned the battle into a slaughter. Maurus had a sneaking suspicion that at least the 12th had had advance notice, because they had joined the cavalry almost immediately and blocked off the northern line of retreat.
'Or maybe they were just more attentive,' Maurus thought, slightly annoyed with himself as he stood and observed, having decided that there was little point in hurrying to what was already a done battle. Artillery was raining down death on the demons retreating toward the south, obliterating the quickest ones while the Horde soldiers and cavalry were running down the slowest.
"We missed out," Crava said beside him.
Maurus shrugged. "We did our part. Though they really did theirs," he said, looking at newly arrived Horde. At the start of the battle, there had been a lot of small explosions and even now, the fleeing crowd was sporadically broken up by the sharp light and smoke that were tell-tale signs of goblin engineering.
Crava and Zilja looked at him in question and comprehension only just dawned on Arianna as he looked at her. "We would have heard if they had just taken the southern bridge. Pretty sure most of those guys went here by zeppelin."
That made most of the people around him look up into the swirling, thunder-filled sky with disbelief and awe on their faces, from Drunnya and Shayla to To'ro and Thalmir.
"There are people crazier than you," he heard Wiven say.
He smiled when he heard Widget reply, for once with all of her carefreeness: "Told you so."
Beside Maurus, Mathias rose to his full height and looked into the far distance with an intent expression on his face. Then he said: "The path is open now. Enough for you?"
Maurus felt a rush of anticipation and satisfaction as he followed Mathias' gaze, but his words were measured when he spoke. "Yes, almost. Just don't get too impatient if we keep somewhat close to our own. We won't get anything done if we overreach."
Mathias nodded, though now the impatience was back in his expression. They both turned their heads to Arianna, who had evidently anticipated it, because she was already holding Mathias' bone dagger.
"West-southwest. A good distance," she said simply, raising a hand to point. Maurus followed the direction she indicated and despite his anticipation, he also felt the familiar fear curl in his stomach. It could have been his imagination, but he thought it looked brighter in the direction Arianna was pointing, like violet lighting inside a dark, purple cloud.
"Everyone," Maurus called. He felt somewhat odd giving the order, with the last stage of the battle still winding down in front of him. "You know what we are after. Pack up and get what you need. Our hunt begins in earnest."
Well, this was late. I struggle with this at the moment, but I am damn well going to do what these characters, and you, deserve, and finish it. And I am looking forward to some of the bits I have in my head, so it isn't exactly a slog. Just some of the time.
Also, this is officially AU now. Don't worry, the Jaina-Thrall thing won't have much influence. I just like them and love Diplomacy, so that is somewhat part of my head canon.
I hope it was worth reading and worth the wait. As always, I would love to hear what you think.
Cheers.