The commander sat cross-legged on a woven grass mat in her quarters. To her right, a toppled mug and a small, drying pool of water marked an earlier, failed attempt to adjust to perception problems due to her impaired vision. Haldrissa was doing better now, but still there were moments when her fingers had to hesitate before she was certain she was reaching for a parchment correctly.
She stared at the array of reports from the various outposts, her remaining eye darting from one to the next. However, as Haldrissa looked at one to her farthest left, she suddenly realized that Denea stood waiting there.
Just for a brief moment Haldrissa noted what she knew to be impatience on her second’s part. That emotion quickly melted away, leaving only the steady expression of a Sentinel lieutenant.
How long Denea had been waiting, Haldrissa could not say. The commander tried not to think of what would have happened if it had been the middle of combat and, rather than Denea, it had been an orc standing in her blind spot. Haldrissa revealed no frustration with either her lapse or her second’s impatience as she rose to meet Denea’s eye.
“What is it?”
“You sent for me.”
Haldrissa had, but it had slipped her mind. Simply nodding, she said, “I have gone over all the reports. I believe it urgent we send warning to Darnassus. The orc incursion near the one outpost was the most intrusive, but by far not the only one.”
“They have pushed into the area before. You think this incident that important?”
“Important enough to send a message to General Shandris immediately. Have a hippogryph rider ready within a quarter hour.”
Denea saluted and left. Haldrissa looked over the reports one last time; then, taking quill to parchment, she wrote all she felt pertinent and how in her opinion it tied together. By the time she was done, Denea had returned.
“The rider is ready. I chose Aradria Cloudflyer.”
The commander nodded her approval. Aradria was an expert rider, perhaps the best in all Ashenvale.
Sealing the parchment into a small pouch, Haldrissa again rose. With Denea a step behind her, she strode to where the courier already waited upon a huge forest-green animal with the clawed forelegs and crested head of a bird of prey—a head also adorned with long, wicked antlers—and a body otherwise like the sleekest of stags. His wings were a brilliant orange, like a setting sun. The hippogryph’s eyes radiated fierce intelligence. These creatures were not property or pets but rather allies. Riders did not control so much as work in concert with them.
Aradria leaned down as the commander stepped close. She was even more wiry than Denea. On the other side of the saddle were strapped her glaive and a quiver full of arrows. Her bow was looped over her head and shoulder.
“No one sees this but the general,” Haldrissa ordered as she handed the pouch to the courier.
“None shall,” Aradria promised. She saluted Haldrissa as she straightened. The courier thrust the pouch into a larger one attached to the curved saddle on which she sat.
“Fly with all haste,” the commander continued. “Beware the sea.”
“Windstorm is the fastest we have here.” Aradria patted the hippogryph on the neck. The winged creature nodded, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. “No one will catch him.”
With that promise, she urged the magnificent mount to flight. The others stepped back as Windstorm spread his broad wings and readily rose into the air.
Watching the pair, Haldrissa felt a pang of jealousy. As commander, she rarely had the opportunity to ride such a mount.
“I want to double the patrols, Denea,” she said once the courier and the hippogryph had become a blur. “Daytime and night. Especially night.”
“The orcs would be better off trying to infiltrate during the day,” Denea pointed out, indicating the time when most of the night elves still slept.
“Which is why we need to pay special attention when it is night.”
Her second did not contest her judgment. Haldrissa dismissed Denea, then returned to her quarters. They were sparse, little more than the mat and the necessary tools needed for her reports and such. Another woven mat, this one longer and thicker, served as her bed. Unlike some officers, Haldrissa did not pamper herself. She slept as her soldiers slept.
It will not take her long, the senior officer thought. It will not take Aradria long to reach Darnassus, not by air. She was glad about that. General Shandris would see her concerns and move to address them.
Still, Haldrissa realized that there was yet need to build up the outposts beyond their current strength. As the weary commander lay down on her sleeping mat, she began calculating how to best rearrange her present level of troops. That further calmed her. Between her missive to the general and her own plans, the Horde was surely in for a dire surprise should it be planning a new attack. The orcs were nothing if not predictable in their overall methods.
Satisfied and eager to let rest ease some of the pain returning to her eye, Haldrissa finally slumbered. Ashenvale would soon be secure again. . . .
The courier grinned as she and the hippogryph soared above the trees. Already deep into night elf territory, they both knew that they could save time skimming above the forest. Aradria had promised Haldrissa that they would get the report to Darnassus as swiftly as possible, and she and Windstorm had every intention of fulfilling that promise. Besides, they had a reputation to keep among the other riders and mounts.
The hippogryph’s powerful wings beat hard. The miles vanished behind them. Aradria left it to her companion to judge where and when he would need to rest; experienced riders never assumed that they knew better than the hippogryphs themselves.
The cool wind felt bracing to the night elf, and she knew that it touched Windstorm the same way. Peering at the landscape below, Aradria made a judgment call as to a change in direction that might cut down their time even more. She tapped the hippogryph on the left side of his broad, muscular neck, using a short series of touches to communicate what she thought. Such a method was far better than trying to shout against the wind.
Without warning, the hippogryph rocked violently, his wings flapping in an awkward, jolting manner. As she clutched tight, the night elf glanced at one of the wings.
Two thick bolts had pierced it, right near the muscle. Blood stained the brilliant plumage and also sprinkled the treetops below.
Aradria looked at the other wing. There, a third bolt had likewise punctured the appendage, and more blood streaked across not only the feathers but the sky behind.
The shots were expert, so much so that the wounds kept the hippogryph from maintaining altitude. Windstorm’s talons and hooves raked against the trees as he struggled to stay aloft. Torn leaves and bits of branches assailed the courier as the mount’s battle against descent faltered more and more with each passing second.
“Ungh!” A stray branch as big as her arm hit the night elf in the chest. Aradria lost her breath, then her balance. She fell back.
Windstorm crashed among the trees. The collision was the final straw for the Sentinel, who tumbled off the saddle.
If not for the thickness of the forest canopy here, Aradria would have been dead. As it was, she slammed through one heavy branch after another, until the accumulation of debris falling with her created a barrier that put an end to her fall. She lay there, stunned, with her head and left arm hanging down.