the points straight ahead.
The pack charged into the shredders.
Distracted by the flight of arrows, most of the goblins saw the charge too late. A couple managed to get their whirling blades up. A nightsaber howled as a blade cut into its jaw.
But overall, the charge held. The lances, aimed with precision, pierced the shredders at the underarm—where they were most vulnerable—or simply managed to tip them backward. Loud crashes accompanied the shredders’ falls.
As per their training, the huntresses immediately retreated. However, as they did, a flight of arrows launched from the east struck.
Four nightsabers immediately dropped, followed by that many more within the first few breaths. Their shields being of less effect when held behind them, the huntresses suffered even more. In seconds, the pack and their riders were decimated.
A battle horn blew. A lusty roar resounded from the forest.
Orcs flowed through the woods into Silverwing. The first line fell nearly to a warrior, shot down by the expert aim of the outpost’s remaining archers. Unfortunately, the orcs kept coming and now they were accompanied by arrows flying overhead. Those arrows sought out the night elf archers, slaying several and shattering the line.
Drawing her glaive, Su’ura leapt atop her mount. She shouted toward the remaining lancers, who rallied to her.
“Drive them back!” Su’ura ordered. “Give the archers and the others time to regroup again!”
With her in the lead, the riders turned again on the oncoming orcs. Su’ura threw the glaive at the first of the attackers and watched with grim satisfaction as the flying blades cut through the chest of the tusked warrior. Blood spilling from the red crevice, the orc tumbled forward, inadvertently tripping two of those directly behind him. Catching the glaive, Su’ura took advantage of the confusion by striking down one of the pair before they could untangle themselves.
The orc line faltered. The riders pushed them back.
A new flight of arrows assailed the orcs. It was accompanied by a number of spinning glaives that further annihilated their front ranks.
Su’ura let out a triumphant yell. The Horde was again learning the folly of attacking Silverwing. Despite the astounding ploy by its commander, the defenders would gain the day—
Another horn blew.
The orc lines dropped.
A fresh flight of arrows concentrated on the riders. Su’ura, at point, saw some of the Horde’s archers just as they were firing, and shouted a warning.
She planted herself against the nightsaber’s neck and prayed the others did the same. However, the many cries she heard in her wake did not give her much hope.
Worse, her mount stumbled, then collapsed. In the process, the animal threw Su’ura.
The night elf fell among the dead, an orc’s gaping face barely an inch from hers. She tried to rise, but something held her leg down. Su’ura twisted around and saw that the nightsaber, more than a dozen heavy bolts piercing its body, had fallen on the limb, trapping it. The unfortunate cat was already dead, which meant that she could not even get the animal to move.
She managed to seize an axe from the dead orc. With the carnage going on around her, she was momentarily forgotten. Doubtful that it would remain that way long, the night elf tried to use the axe head to prop up the carcass enough to slip her leg free.
A nerve-shaking wail rose over the vicinity, causing her to lose her grip on the axe. Despite her predicament, she had to see the cause.
Two Sentinels blocked her view, but not for very long. Although expertly wielding their glaives for hand-to-hand combat, first one, then the other, fell. One did so minus her head; the other with his torso cut all the way down the middle. The doom of each was accompanied by the same awful wail.
And as the night elves fell, they revealed the lone foe who had so easily dealt with them. The brown-skinned orc grinned as he looked for another enemy to smite. In his hands he gripped a dreadful axe that had an intricate series of grooves in the head.
Su’ura had never seen him before, but knew instantly from the tales that she stared at Garrosh Hellscream himself.
As if sensing her, his baleful gaze turned in her direction.
The Sentinel seized the axe again and shoved the weapon’s head toward the corpse of her mount. Twisting the handle, she used the head to push up the nightsaber just enough to finally pull her leg free.
“Good,” declared an ominous, deep voice. “I want a fair battle.”
She stared up at the warchief, who made