that the thought was a foolish one. The huge dragon would not have bothered with such a petty spectacle. Deathwing, who abhorred all “lesser” life, would have preferred razing the entire area, combatants and all.
Her concentration broken, the prayer ended, and with it the light. She felt pain in her left arm and leg. When Tyrande tried to see what was happening, at first all she saw was more fog.
No . . . not fog. Dust. The air was filled with dust and even large fragments of rock and earth that rained down on not just her, but everyone else in the area. Tyrande made out at least three Sentinels nearby who lay either dead or unconscious.
A large, moist nose sniffed her. Tyrande’s nightsaber licked her leg, where for the first time the high priestess saw that a shard of rock stuck out near the thigh. Wincing, she seized the shard and tugged it free, then quickly prayed over the wound. The gap healed, leaving only bloodstains to mark it.
Touching her arm, Tyrande only found some blood. No longer concerned for herself, she looked for Shandris.
The first sign of the other night elf was one that made Tyrande shiver with anguish. Shandris’s nightsaber lay sprawled, its skull crushed in by a very large piece of rock.
“Shandris!” All else forgotten, Tyrande stepped past her mount and climbed over the dead cat. “Shandris!”
There were two individuals in her life who meant more to her than anything. Malfurion and the orphan who had become her daughter. Tyrande had never let Shandris know just how much she worried about the younger night elf’s duties as head of their forces. So many of the high priestess’s personal prayers had concerned Shandris’s continued safety.
And now . . .
There was no sign of Shandris on the other side. Tyrande looked farther on, fearing that her daughter had been thrown far away. Tyrande spotted another body—a Sentinel, surely dead, from the awkward angle in which she lay—but it was not Shandris. Even though she felt some shame in doing so, the high priestess gave thanks to Elune for even this momentary respite.
Then a groan from the direction of the dead nightsaber made her turn. Tyrande rushed to the area by the tail, a place to which she had paid little mind. There, a good portion of the cat was buried under the rubble of whatever had struck.
Shandris’s arm, the covering dust making it blend into the ground around it, lay just under one of the feline’s hind legs. It moved as Tyrande neared, and again she gave thanks to Elune for this personal blessing.
No sooner had she knelt to see what she could do than several other Sentinels rushed up to help. They had evidently seen what had happened but could not get to the two any sooner. With careful swiftness they hefted the dead nightsaber off of the general.
Tyrande put a hand to Shandris’s back and prayed. She did not know what injuries Shandris had suffered and did not care. She only hoped that Elune would heal whatever had happened to her daughter.
Shandris groaned again, but this time with more life. She glowed with the light of Elune as Tyrande finished her prayer. Only when the high priestess pulled her hand away did the glow fade. To Tyrande’s relief, Shandris’s breathing was strong and regular.
As the high priestess pulled back, it was as if the world had suddenly returned in all its chaotic fury. There were shouts coming from everywhere and the familiar hiss of arrows on their way to deliver death. She hoped the last sound had come from the bows of the Sentinels and not the Horde, but knew that it was likely a combination of both. Sentinels rushed past her, some mounted, and all of them with anxious looks on their faces.
A roar that reminded her of Deathwing thundered across the area. Belatedly, Tyrande recognized that it was not one roar but a multitude of voices shouting in unison.
She looked toward the river . . . and saw that beyond it, the forest was filled with orcs, tauren with massive totems, trolls—including more than one witch doctor—and more. The floodgates had opened and through them rushed the Horde.
“They . . . they were seeking you,” Shandris gasped as a pair of the Sentinels helped her rise. “They knew you were here and they used the damned mist to make you act!”
Tyrande peered at the area around them. Virtually all of the huge boulders that