"Don't worry about it," Khadgar advised. "Everyone is. The trick is just to work past that."
"You're nervous too?"
The mage grinned. "Scared spitless would be closer," he revealed. "I have been every time we've been in combat. And it was Lothar who told me, after one encounter, that you should be scared. Because the man who isn't afraid gets careless, and that's when he gets hurt."
Turalyon nodded. "My instructors said much the same thing." He shook his head. "It's one thing to say that, though, and another to believe it."
His friend patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine," he assured. "Once it starts you'll be too busy to think about it."
They both turned and looked out again. The Hillsbrad region was so named for its rolling foothills, and the Alliance army was spread across the last line of those hills, facing Lordaeron's Southshore and the Great Sea beyond. The Horde ships were approaching even as they watched, massive unwieldy vessels of dark metal and blackened wood, without sails but with row upon row of oars. Lothar intended to meet the Horde as it emerged from the water, before the orcs had a chance to find their footing. Proudmoore's navy had already assaulted the ships during their passage, destroying several vessels and sending thousands of orcs to the bottom of the ocean, but the Horde was so numerous they had merely picked off the outermost ships while the rest sailed on past. There would still be fighting aplenty when they landed.
"They are almost ashore," Alleria reported, her sharp elven eyes seeing farther than theirs. She turned toward Turalyon. "Best ready your men for the attack."
Turalyon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He had seen women before, of course, and nothing about his Order forbade relationships or even marriage. But the elven ranger made every other woman he had ever met seem both weak and rough at the same time. She was so confident, so graceful, and so lovely his mouth ran dry every time he saw her, and he often found himself trembling and sweating like a horse that had just run a hard race. And judging by the glint in her eyes and the half—smile when she said anything to him, Turalyon suspected she knew and enjoyed his discomfort.
Now at least he had something to distract him. Signaling his unit leaders, Turalyon gave them the go—ahead gesture. They in turn gave an order to their heralds, who sounded the advance on their battle horns. Within minutes the entire Alliance force was in motion, marching and riding slowly but steadily down the hill and toward the shore.
As they closed the distance Turalyon made out more details. He saw the first of the ships beach itself, and dark figures swarm over its side, stomping up the rocky beach and toward the foothills. Even from here he could see they were broadly built, with thick chests and long, powerful arms, and bandy legs that ate up the distance. They brandished weapons, axes and hammers and swords and spears. And there were a lot of them.
"They have reached the land!" Lothar shouted, drawing his massive greatsword with a single sweep and holding it aloft, the gold runes along its blade catching the light. "Charge! For Lordaeron!" He spurred his horse and it leaped forward, past the Alliance ranks, the golden lion on his shield catching the light.
"Damn!" Turalyon kicked his own steed into a gallop and took off after his commander, snatching up his hammer and dropping his helm into place as he moved. He saw soldiers scrambling out of the way, and others hastening to catch up, and then he was past them and in the narrow stretch between the two armies. But soon enough that vanished and he crashed full—force into the orcs, reaching them just as Lothar's first swing took down several and others advanced toward his horse, determined to pull the Champion down and tear him apart.
"No!" Turalyon swung as soon as he was within reach, his hammer catching an orc full in the head. The creature dropped with barely a sound and Turalyon knocked a second one aside with his shield, battering the orc away long enough to bring his hammer back around and smash at that one as well.
By the Light, they were ugly! Lothar and Khadgar had described them but it was not the same as seeing them firsthand, with that vivid green skin and those glowing red eyes. And those tusks! He had seen such things on boars before, but never on anything that walked on two legs and carried a weapon! They were strong too, he saw, as an orc's warhammer clashed with his own and almost drove his weapon back into his helm, the creature struck with such force. Fortunately they seemed to rely more upon strength and aggression than skill—he was able to twist his weapon free and bring it back around, its haft catching the orc a glancing blow across the cheek and stunning it long enough for Turalyon to strike again properly.
Lothar had cleared the orcs from his side with a vicious sword swing, and Turalyon guided his horse beside the commander so they stood side by side, hammer and greatsword in constant motion. Uther was right behind them now, his own mighty hammer crushing orcs left and right, a visible glow surround him and his weapon and making the orcs turn away, shielding their eyes. A cheer arose from the Alliance forces as they saw the Paladins' prowess. Turalyon was not surprised. He had trained alongside Uther and knew the older Paladin's faith was incredibly strong, strong enough to manifest visibly. He wished his own was as solid.
Now was not the time to think of that, however. More orc warships were reaching the beach, and orcs were pouring from them by the thousands. Turalyon saw at once that they would be overwhelmed if they stayed. "Sir!" he shouted at Lothar. "We need to move back to the rest of the army!"
At first he thought the Champion had not heard him, but Lothar skewered another orc and then nodded. "Uther!" he shouted, and the Paladin turned. "Back to the others!" Uther raised his hammer in salute and wheeled his horse around at once, bludgeoning a path back through the gathering Horde. Lothar was right behind him and Turalyon brought up the rear, laying about him with hammer and shield to keep orc hands and weapons at bay. One orc reached for him, a massive axe held ready in its other hand, only to fall with an arrow through its throat. Turalyon risked a quick glance around and saw a slender figure back on the hill raise a longbow in salute. He could just make out the gleam of her hair from here.
Several times he thought they would fall but he, Uther, and Lothar all made it back to the front lines safely. The Horde was right behind them.
"Form up!" Lothar shouted. "Raise spears. Link shields! Repel them!" The soldiers hurried to obey—they had been standing ready but separately, individuals rather than a unified force, but that would not work against the Horde's superior numbers. Now they moved together, forming a solid shield wall that bristled with spears, and the Horde crashed into that. In several places the wall fell, a defender overpowered by an orc's charge, but much of it held as orcs fell back, clutching new wounds. Some dropped and did not rise again, though their fellows quickly swarmed over and past them.
A second wave struck the shield wall, collapsing more sections, but again the orcs took heavy casualties. Turalyon signaled the nearest unit leaders and was pleased to see them respond quickly, a second shield wall already forming behind the first. They could build wall after wall, and if each one cost the orcs as heavily they could whittle away the Horde until it was small enough to face the creatures directly.
But the orcs were clearly not stupid. After the third collision they held back, as if waiting for something. And Turalyon soon saw what. A handful of heavily cloaked figures advanced. Each wore a cowl low over its face, so only the eyes were visible deep within, and each carried a strange glowing truncheon. These creatures rode strange, heavily barded horses with glowing eyes, and charged forward, directly toward the shield wall, and raised their truncheons as they approached. Turalyon felt as much as heard a strange buzzing, and the soldiers directly in front of the creatures collapsed, clutching their heads as blood poured from their mouths, noses, and ears.