the day.
But on the other side, the Horde was more than ready to meet this new challenge. The deadly flight of arrows preceded a rush of heavily armed and armored warriors both on foot and astride the great dire wolves.
Still paying no heed to those who followed him, Varian saw the enemy ranks as merely impediments. When the first dire wolf reached him, he used Shalamayne to slice through one eye and pierce the brain. As the animal fell forward, Varian stepped up atop its head and all but cut the orc rider in two. A blood elf who grabbed for the lord of Stormwind pulled back with his hand lost. Axes and blades tore at his garments and bloodied his body, but none were more than nuisances, and they slowed him not a bit.
And though he himself did not notice it, did not feel it, both those who followed and those who faced him thought that they saw in the dust and smoke swirling in his vicinity the darting form of a great wolf. Who first shouted the name was a question none could answer. The worgen assumed it was one of their own, for had they not been the first to recognize the king of Stormwind as the Ancient’s champion? The Sentinels believed it either the high priestess or her general, while those dwarves and humans who had accompanied the expedition from Darnassus thought someone of their ranks was responsible.
What mattered was that someone first shouted “Varian!” and then “Goldrinn!” and those names repeated over and over to become the new battle cry. It was a cry that reverberated through the Horde ranks and sent the first true hint of uncertainty through their minds. The victory should have been theirs long ago. The Alliance should have fallen. What was happening now was not how the magnificent plan had been supposed to play out.
And none knew the last more than Garrosh Hellscream. The future that he had envisioned coming to fruition once Ashenvale was in Horde hands now looked so very distant. His ultimate weapon, the crushing power of the magnataur, had now become a much-too-visible image of his master strategy gone awry.
Even as he thought that, another of the giants went crashing to the ground. Worgen swarmed over the fallen behemoth, seeking especially the throat.
One of the Kor’kron pushed close to Garrosh. “Warchief, you risk yourself here! We cannot lose you. . . .”
“Lose me?” Garrosh shoved the insolent guard aside. “I will not hide from battle!”
“But the Alliance—”
The warchief glared, causing the hardened guard to flinch. Garrosh roared another command, sending in reinforcements where the accursed worgen had weakened his forces.
The Alliance’s new battle cry pounded in his head. Garrosh could not make out exactly what the enemy called, but he could see how it stirred them to greater effort against his warriors. “What is that? What words do they shout?”
Another guard answered. “They cry the name of the human king . . . and with it, Goldrinn . . . their title for the great Lo’Gosh!”
“The wolf Ancient . . .” Garrosh’s gaze searched the struggle. “Lo’Gosh . . . and Varian Wrynn . . .”
And as he once more spoke the human’s name, the orc leader spotted the Alliance’s apparent champion among the enemy encroaching on his position . . . and Varian Wrynn spotted him.
In silent agreement, they pushed toward one another. Garrosh’s personal guard protested, but he slipped in among the other fighters and left his would-be protectors struggling to reach him.
Shalamayne moved as a blur, cutting and slaying any who stood in the king’s way. Brave though orcs, tauren, blood elves, and trolls might be, foolish they were not. There was better chance for glory—and life—against many others.
But one figure did come between the two, Varian his intended hunt, also. His impetuous thrust almost did what so many had failed to do. However, the cut in Varian’s arm was shallow.
Briln, the edge of his axe blade stained with the human’s blood, glared at Varian.
“My magnataur!” roared the former mariner bitterly. “My glory and honor! Look what you’ve done!”
His ferocity forced Varian into momentary retreat. Briln had not survived for so long without being skilled with the axe, as Haldrissa had discovered to her detriment. There were tricks that he could have even taught Garrosh—not that such a thing mattered at the moment to the distraught orc. The magnataur were to have been his way of redeeming himself for all the catastrophes of