hours—Northwatch Hold would fall.
Victory was, after all, the Horde’s destiny.
• • •
When Hannah Bridgewater, her clothes soaked with sweat and her legs trembling with exhaustion, was stopped by one of the Northwatch guards patrolling the western path, her message was relayed immediately to Admiral Aubrey. He swore, a single, harsh word,then recovered. To the guard who had brought him the news, he said, “Notify everyone to prepare for battle. The tauren and trolls are approaching from the west. Shore up our defenses there and—”
“Sir!” yelped Blaine. He stood, his eyes fixed on the signaler on the dock below, who was frantically waving the semaphore flags. “Horde ships are approaching from Ratchet—six of them! Fully armed battleships!”
“Six?”
“Aye, sir.” Blaine strained for more information. “They appear to have the markings of—of goblin, Forsaken, and blood elf!”
Aubrey didn’t reply. Trolls and tauren first, and now the Forsaken, the sin’dorei, and the goblins. The only ones missing were—
“Orcs,” he snapped. “Tell Dockmaster Lewis to send some scouts to Ratchet. They’ll have to dodge the remnants of the Rageroar, but they’re used to that.” He should have known the instant he heard the word “tauren” that they would not come alone. The tauren army pressed forward in an attack before, not after the late general Hawthorne had ensured that the civilians of Camp Taurajo would be allowed to leave unharmed. It wasn’t like them.
He should have known the real threat would come from the north. From Orgrimmar.
As for the battleships of the other Horde races… “Tell cannoneers Whessan and Smythe to fire at will as soon as those ships are within range. We’ll need to keep their troops from landing.”
“Aye, sir.”
Aubrey’s mind was racing. How would the orcs manage it? The tauren and trolls approached by land, yes. The other races, by sea, yes. But there was no way that hundreds of orcs would be able to charge Northwatch Hold en masse directly from the north. The Rageroar orcs had been a thorn in his side but they had never been able to bring in many reinforcements. Their strongholds were merely small jutting islands between the hold and Ratchet. An army could never possibly—
He felt the sound before he heard it. It was not cannon fire; Light knew they had grown used to hearing that over the last few months.No, this was different… a deep trembling of the earth. For a second, Aubrey and most of the others, still raw from the tumult during the Cataclysm, thought it was another earthquake. But it was too regular, too… rhythmic…
Drums. Drums of war.
He reached for the spyglass hanging at his hip, hastened to the wall of the tower, and looked to the north. Until this moment, the Rageroar stragglers had been glimpsed milling about near the base of the hold, sometimes even attacking the Northwatch guards in reckless, usually fatal charges. Now there was no sign of them.
“Belay that order to send scouts!” he shouted to Blaine. “The Rageroar have returned because they’ve joined with the Horde orcs. They’ll be—”
The words died in his throat. He could see them now, cresting the hill—a great wave of orcs clad in everything from the cloth robes of their shaman and warlocks to mismatched pieces of leather to imposing plate mail. They lugged carts of wooden planks and boulders. The Rageroar had joined them, obviously expected, and the great green brutes heaved and tossed the boulders into the shallow waters with enormous splashes and roars. The infernal drums kept pounding, pounding, and the enemy was close enough so that Aubrey and the others could hear war chants being sung in Orcish. Behind the orcs were catapults, battering rams, other massive engines of war. But how could they possibly think—
It was when the orcs began laying the planks over the stones that Aubrey realized the insidious cleverness of the tactic.
“Shore up
Victory was, after all, the Horde’s destiny.
• • •
When Hannah Bridgewater, her clothes soaked with sweat and her legs trembling with exhaustion, was stopped by one of the Northwatch guards patrolling the western path, her message was relayed immediately to Admiral Aubrey. He swore, a single, harsh word,then recovered. To the guard who had brought him the news, he said, “Notify everyone to prepare for battle. The tauren and trolls are approaching from the west. Shore up our defenses there and—”
“Sir!” yelped Blaine. He stood, his eyes fixed on the signaler on the dock below, who was frantically waving the semaphore flags. “Horde ships are approaching from Ratchet—six of them! Fully armed battleships!”
“Six?”
“Aye, sir.” Blaine strained for more information. “They appear to have the markings of—of goblin, Forsaken, and blood elf!”
Aubrey didn’t reply. Trolls and tauren first, and now the Forsaken, the sin’dorei, and the goblins. The only ones missing were—
“Orcs,” he snapped. “Tell Dockmaster Lewis to send some scouts to Ratchet. They’ll have to dodge the remnants of the Rageroar, but they’re used to that.” He should have known the instant he heard the word “tauren” that they would not come alone. The tauren army pressed forward in an attack before, not after the late general Hawthorne had ensured that the civilians of Camp Taurajo would be allowed to leave unharmed. It wasn’t like them.
He should have known the real threat would come from the north. From Orgrimmar.
As for the battleships of the other Horde races… “Tell cannoneers Whessan and Smythe to fire at will as soon as those ships are within range. We’ll need to keep their troops from landing.”
“Aye, sir.”
Aubrey’s mind was racing. How would the orcs manage it? The tauren and trolls approached by land, yes. The other races, by sea, yes. But there was no way that hundreds of orcs would be able to charge Northwatch Hold en masse directly from the north. The Rageroar orcs had been a thorn in his side but they had never been able to bring in many reinforcements. Their strongholds were merely small jutting islands between the hold and Ratchet. An army could never possibly—
He felt the sound before he heard it. It was not cannon fire; Light knew they had grown used to hearing that over the last few months.No, this was different… a deep trembling of the earth. For a second, Aubrey and most of the others, still raw from the tumult during the Cataclysm, thought it was another earthquake. But it was too regular, too… rhythmic…
Drums. Drums of war.
He reached for the spyglass hanging at his hip, hastened to the wall of the tower, and looked to the north. Until this moment, the Rageroar stragglers had been glimpsed milling about near the base of the hold, sometimes even attacking the Northwatch guards in reckless, usually fatal charges. Now there was no sign of them.
“Belay that order to send scouts!” he shouted to Blaine. “The Rageroar have returned because they’ve joined with the Horde orcs. They’ll be—”
The words died in his throat. He could see them now, cresting the hill—a great wave of orcs clad in everything from the cloth robes of their shaman and warlocks to mismatched pieces of leather to imposing plate mail. They lugged carts of wooden planks and boulders. The Rageroar had joined them, obviously expected, and the great green brutes heaved and tossed the boulders into the shallow waters with enormous splashes and roars. The infernal drums kept pounding, pounding, and the enemy was close enough so that Aubrey and the others could hear war chants being sung in Orcish. Behind the orcs were catapults, battering rams, other massive engines of war. But how could they possibly think—
It was when the orcs began laying the planks over the stones that Aubrey realized the insidious cleverness of the tactic.
“Shore up
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