but still horrifying roar burst from the forest ahead. It was answered by five equally monstrous calls.
“Keep praying, Mother,” Shandris said as she rode forward. “Keep praying. . . .”
“I have never stopped,” Tyrande replied, the high priestess following her daughter into war . . . and probably doom.
It did not matter that the magnataur had already ripped paths to the Alliance lines. Weak things such as trees were easily shoved aside. The titanic creatures from Northrend tore asunder the forest as they reached the river. It was not as if their masters cared. The Horde wanted Ashenvale most of all for its timber, and the destruction of the forest by the angry behemoths would only make the harvesting that much quicker once the enemy was dead.
The orcs and their allies followed behind, although not too close behind. Several had died in the retreat of the magnataur, the creatures not discriminating between trees in their path or soft, crushable bodies. Both the magnataur and the fighters following were more than eager for blood after the trickery they had faced earlier. Slaves to Garrosh the behemoths might be, but they did not like being made the fools any more than an orc or tauren or even a goblin.
And there was more than enough Alliance blood to satiate them.
The moment the lead magnataur bull broke through to the river, flaming arrows assailed him. Several struck the nearby trees, but not enough to start a blaze. Those that hit the magnataur only made him angrier as he brushed them away like so many gnats. Even then, the barrage continued, spreading as the other bulls also reached the river.
There was no signal to tell the titanic monsters to keep moving. As Shandris had surmised, Garrosh had no desire to let the Alliance regroup anymore than it could. The warchief would crush his enemies here and now and take Ashenvale in one swift, sweeping victory.
Horde archers began firing the moment that they reached their designated positions. Their return fire forced the Alliance archers to shoot back at them and left fewer to try to turn back the magnataur with the fire arrows.
The latter mission was not progressing well, anyway, Shandris saw as she shot a grinning troll through the chest. They would have needed much more fire to turn away the beasts.
Moonlight suddenly shone in the faces of the magnataur, even though there was no moon to create it. Shandris smiled, but the smile faltered as the magnataur proved to be unaffected. They were creatures of Northrend and as such lived in a place where snow and ice could be even more blinding. They were adapted to survive such conditions, and now those made yet another potent weapon of the defenders moot.
The lead bull crossed the river. It did not take him much effort. As he came onshore, lancers charged at his legs, seeking to wound one and possibly cause him to lose his balance. They might as well have been more gnats. The magnataur grabbed two cats and smashed them and their riders into a stomach-churning, unidentifiable mess that he afterward tossed among the defenders.
Now a horn sounded from the Horde side. With wild, eager cries, Garrosh’s warriors at last rushed forward.
“We have no choice but to meet them!” Tyrande called to her.
“I know!” Shandris gave the signal.
The regiments in wait surged toward the river. As they did, the archers up front retreated under cover from comrades behind them. More lancers joined the Alliance push.
The armies came together, the clash of arms playing over and over. Night elves fell. Orcs died. And though they were the dominant forces of the opposing sides, they were each joined in death by many allies: tauren, human soldiers from Theramore, dwarves of the three clans, troll warriors, and more. Shandris could not see the entire battle, but she knew that scores perished in the first few seconds alone.
But worst of all, the magnataur were unstoppable. They ripped through the Sentinels as if the seasoned warriors were stalks of wheat and the magnataur were reapers. Bodies lay everywhere and in every sickening condition. The night elves tried in vain to focus on the behemoths, Horde archers keeping any attempt to attack the magnataur from even beginning. Thus left unchecked, the fearsome creatures continued to wreak their havoc.
The priestesses of Elune both fought and healed, and because of that they and their leader were also special targets of any Horde archer. Despite the Mother Moon’s blessing, Sisters were not indestructible,