She looked at Lady Proudmoore. "We have to get to Northwatch. If we're lucky, the war won't have started yet, and maybe we can get the troops to stand down. You've got to do it in person, though, milady—Major Davin won't take orders from anyone else."
Lady Proudmoore nodded. "You're right. I'll—"
"No."
That was Aegwynn. The lady gazed at her coolly. "I beg your pardon?"
"There's magic afoot here, Lady Proudmoore, and you're the only person in Kalimdor who can stop it. Your erstwhile chamberlain was right about one thing—Zmodlor is a minor demon. He was a sycophant of Sargeras's. He doesn't have the power to influence so many people—or to raze a forest and teleport the trees, if it comes to that. Those warlocks Kristoff mentioned are the source of all this—they're acting in Zmodlor's name, probably in exchange for rare scrolls or some other such thing." She shook her head. "Warlocks go after spells like an addict to a poppy plant. It's revolting."
"We don't have time to go on a hunt for a group of warlocks," Lorena said.
"Those warlocks are the source of all this, Colonel," Aegwynn said.
Lorena looked at Lady Proudmoore. "For all we know, milady, the fighting has already started. If it hasn't, it may at any second, if Kristoff was right about those orc and troll troops heading down. Once the fighting starts, it won't matter who or what caused it—there will be bloodshed, and once that line is crossed, the alliance will be permanently sundered."
Aegwynn also regarded the lady. "Time is of the essence. You said yourself that Zmodlor knows that you're on to him. We have to strike now, before he has a chance to form a strategy against you. And you can't be in two places at once."
Then the lady smiled. It was a radiant smile, one that Lorena took as something of a relief after the anger she had displayed toward Kristoff. "I don't need to be in two places at once." She walked to the entryway of her chambers. Lorena and Aegwynn exchanged confused glances, and then followed.
When they walked in, they saw Lady Proudmoore rummaging through the scrolls on her desk, before finally saying, "Aha!"
She turned around and held up a rock that was carved into an intricate shape. Then it started to glow…
Nineteen
Sir, the orcs, they've set up camp."
Major Davin started ripping out tufts of his beard, dress code be damned. "How many?"
Shrugging, Corporal Rych said, "Impossible to be sayin' for sure, sir."
Davin closed his eyes and counted to five. "Take a guess."
Another shrug. "Lookout, he be sayin' there's at least six hundred, sir—but hard to say for sure, sir. They be stayin' far enough back that they ain't violatin' no borders or nothin', but—"
At Rych's hesitation, Davin sighed and prompted him. "But what?"
"Well, sir, right now they just be sittin' there, but I don't think that'll be lastin', sir. 'Specially once those boats arrive."
Again, Davin sighed. It seemed that sighing was all he did these days. Dozens of boats carrying orcs and trolls alike were seen heading south on the Great Sea a day ago, heading right for Northwatch. They'd arrive within a couple of hours.
At that point, Davin would have a decision to make.
His instructions from Chamberlain Kristoff—who, with Lady Proudmoore compromised by these Burning Blade people, was in charge—were to hold Northwatch "no matter what."
Davin had no idea how he was supposed to do that.
He hadn't even wanted to be a soldier. True, he had an aptitude for violence that made him very attractive to the recruiter who came to his village as a boy, but he was also a tremendous physical coward. He managed to fake it through training, mostly by virtue of never actually being in danger. If it was just playacting, Davin had no difficulties at all. Use his sword on a straw dummy? No problem. But real combat against a flesh—and—blood foe? Then he was hopeless.
So the first time he had faced off against a person, he had thought he'd be doomed. But he had lucked out by being part of a particularly talented platoon. Davin had done little when he had faced off against the renegade dwarves who had come to his village to try to escape dwarven justice after a failed attempt to overthrow the existing government. But the rest of his platoon had done quite well, capturing or killing all the dwarves. Davin had been able to bask in the reflected glory of his comrades.
Then the Burning Legion had come.
It had been awful. People had died all around him. Lordaeron had been destroyed. Humans and orcs had fought side by side. The entire world had turned upside down. Davin had never understood why Lady Proudmoore had chosen to ally with the orcs—they were devils, not significantly better than the demons themselves—but nobody had asked Davin his advice.
The worst day had been in some forest somewhere. Davin hadn't even known where it was, only that he was there with the tattered remains of his platoon, and they were trying to find a demon stronghold so some wizard or other could learn its secrets. Davin's job was simple: protect the wizard. Everyone else was seeking out the stronghold.
Unfortunately, they found it. The demons didn't take kindly to the notion.
As soon as they came, their eyes aflame, Davin panicked and hid behind one of the oaks. He left the wizard exposed, and while the mage tried his best to defend himself, eventually one of the demons set him afire. While Davin watched from the safety of his arboreal hiding place, the wizard he was supposed to be protecting screamed in agony and died very very slowly.
Somehow—Davin was never entirely clear why—the demons overlooked him. Perhaps they didn't deem Davin to be a threat, which was certainly true. Either way, though, when his platoon was wiped out and the demons buggered off to wherever it was demons buggered off to, Davin ran back to base camp, expecting to be excoriated for being such a coward, but willing to face the consequences, as long as he wouldn't have to go out and face such a thing again.
Instead, they hailed him as a hero for surviving the deadly onslaught and coming back to report what had happened.
Then they promoted him.
Davin was stunned. He was no hero; he was, in fact, the exact opposite. But every attempt to clear the air just resulted in his being considered unduly modest. It was maddening—instead of being relieved of combat, he was put in charge of other troops.
Shortly thereafter, the war was kind enough to end, thus sparing Davin the embarrassment of having to actually lead troops into a battle he was incapable of fighting. The Burning Legion was driven back to whatever hell they had come from, and Davin was given another promotion, this time to major. After Admiral Proudmoore's arrival and subsequent death, Davin was put in charge of Northwatch Keep.
Until recently, he had welcomed the duty. Northwatch was fairly peaceful, and while Davin's cowardice made combat an impossibility, he did fine at administration.
Assuming, of course, that nothing went wrong.
Davin didn't especially like Colonel Lorena, but he really wished she were here right now, instead of off with the Burning Blade. For one thing, she was a lot better at running a garrison of troops than he was. Unlike Davin's, Lorena's promotions had actually been based on merit.
For another, if the Burning Blade could get her, not to mention Lady Proudmoore, what hope did Davin have?
Oreil came running in, his too—big armor clanking with each step. "Major Davin! Major Davin! The orcs're moving! It happened as soon as the boats docked!"
Davin sighed yet again. "When did the boats dock?"
"Didn't anyone tell you?" Oreil blinked a few times. "Oh, wait, I was supposed to do that. I'm sorry, sir, but I got all overexcited. Please don't court—martial me."