Ambushed

Andy didn't hide what he had seen that day from Tyrande. On the contrary, he needed her to answer his questions.

"Is this the pendant you found today?" Tyrande held the dark green pendant in her palm. "It looks like an antique."

"What were those shadows drifting through the sky?" Andy asked. "One of the soldiers saw them today."

"Ah..." Tyrande set down the pendant and stood, gazing at the desolate scenery outside the tent. "Those should be the images cast by the souls of the High Elves who died long ago. They have no bodies or thoughts, but they aren't Undead. They can only replay what they did before they died."

Andy picked up the pendant. It was no longer of much use to him; the Elf System had already absorbed its properties and added them to his own. "Can you tell what it's made of?" he asked.

Tyrande shook her head and smiled. "Most materials from ancient times have completely disappeared. We can't identify what the pendant is made of yet, but it seems to be able to gather souls, so it must be unusual."

As they spoke, Hilar came in from outside. "High Priest, we've finished clearing the larger building ruins outside, and the soldiers have moved into them."

Tyrande nodded and watched the sun sink toward the horizon, lost in thought once more.

Darkness completely enveloped Azshara Beach. Only the ruins occupied by the troops were lit by campfires. Andy sat inside one of them, curled up in a corner with his bow in his arms.

"Hey, Andy." Saria, the timid big fellow from earlier, nudged him. "Are those things you said about the Orcs really true?"

Andy looked up at Saria and nodded. Even now, some people still didn't believe what he'd told them. It was no wonder. They'd never seen the Orcs' ferocity with their own eyes. No one would believe something they hadn't experienced for themselves. Sometimes even Andy had his doubts. Were the Orcs really just like the ones in the game?

"Keep rowing!" A shout rang out across the sea.

On the ship where Orgrim was, the Orcs on either side of the hull strained to pull at their oars. They had set out from Stormwind City's harbor nearly twenty days ago. Before that, they had sent a small group of Orc scouts to cross the Endless Sea. Sadly, every scout had vanished without a trace, like a stone sinking into the sea. Orgrim didn't want to wait any longer. Ever since he'd discovered the enormous world map atop Stormwind City's palace and learned that another continent lay across the sea, he'd been unable to contain his impatience.

Orgrim thought back to what had happened recently and could only shake his head helplessly. Durotan, his clan chief and comrade-in-arms, had died before his eyes while resisting Gul'dan's rule. Though the battle had utterly disgraced Gul'dan, it had come at the cost of Durotan's life. Orgrim had pushed to sail in search of that land partly to escape that bastard Warlock and the tyrannical Warchief Blackhand.

Orgrim glanced back. Dozens of warships floated across the vast sea. Building them had required cutting down nearly half the trees in Elwynn Forest. But Orgrim himself had no experience sailing, and the Orcs who had followed him were just as helpless.

They seemed to be lost. Yes, lost at sea. The great storm a few days earlier had nearly sent Orgrim, old and weary as he was, to the bottom of the ocean. He hadn't fallen overboard and drowned, but his personal guards aboard the same ship hadn't been so lucky. That had shown Orgrim just how powerful the sea could be.

"Row harder! The land's right up ahead, waiting for us!" Even as he shouted, Orgrim felt his confidence faltering. He'd lost count of how many times he'd said it. Yes, the land was ahead—but why couldn't they ever see it?

On the quiet beach at Azshara, some of the campfires were so weak they were close to going out. Apart from the soldiers on watch, no one was still standing or sitting. A watchtower nearly twenty meters tall had been erected at the edge of the camp to keep a constant eye on the sea. The guards had just changed shifts, and the relieved sentries yawned as they went off to rest.

The huge moon in the sky was nearly setting, while the smaller one still hung overhead. Dawn was near; this was the darkest hour.

A loud boom jolted the soldiers closest to the shore awake. One soldier rubbed his eyes and poked half his head out of the ruins, looking around. The guard in the tower was drawn to the sound. The eastern horizon was just beginning to pale, and he strained his eyes to peer through the sea mist.

Another boom rang out. The guard in the tower thought he heard a commotion coming from the sea. Then the corner of a ship emerged through the mist.

The guard blew the horn hanging around his neck as hard as he could. In an instant, its blare swept across Azshara Beach. The Elf soldiers, still deep in sleep, scrambled to their feet, grabbed the helmets they'd been using as pillows, and stuck their heads out of the ruins to look around.

Andy had already woken at the first boom. He kept his eyes fixed on the sea, not even blinking.

Orgrim felt like cursing. What was this nonsense? How had they hit a reef out of nowhere? Exhausted, he'd finally been unable to stay awake in the small hours and had curled up on the ship for a nap. He'd fallen sound asleep. Just as he was dreaming, his ship struck something and lurched to a halt, nearly throwing him overboard. The ships behind them hadn't been able to stop either, and one slammed into Orgrim's ship, which had already turned sideways.

The impact had nearly snapped the ship's keel. Orgrim was just about to shout and ask what was happening when another ship behind them hit something solid and stopped dead. The Orcs aboard it were roaring in alarm as their ship crashed into the one ahead. Many of them fell overboard.

"What's going on?" Orgrim roared. "Why did we hit a reef?"

No one could answer him. All he could do was watch the Orcs floundering in the water, shouting for those aboard the ships to throw them ropes. One Orc thrashed about for a while, then pushed down with both feet and found himself standing on the seabed. He straightened up until his head rose above the water.

"Chief, the water isn't deep here!" he shouted to Orgrim.

Hearing him, Orgrim looked over. More and more of the Orc's body was rising above the water. Could he have stumbled onto the right course after all? Was land really ahead?

"What's it like down there?" Orgrim shouted.

The Orc looked at the water around his knees and ran forward as fast as he could. Land—this was land! "Chief, it's land! It really is land!" he cried.

Orgrim's face relaxed with relief. They'd finally made it!

Whoosh! A gleaming arrow pierced the Orc's nape and emerged through his throat, spraying blood. Orgrim saw it clearly, and the muscles in his face twitched. Someone else was here—and it seemed they'd known he was coming.

The instant the Orc fell, a volley of arrows, concealed by the darkness, flew toward the unsuspecting fleet.

"Ah!" After several cries rang out, arrows rained down on all the ships in the front row. Orgrim hurriedly ducked inside his ship, afraid to raise his head. "Get down! Keep your heads low! We've been ambushed!" he shouted.

As soon as the arrows stopped, the area fell silent. Orgrim cautiously peeked out. Several unlucky Orcs floated dead on the water, while others rolled around in the shallows, clutching their legs or arms.

Orgrim slowly raised his head. Dawn was breaking, and he could just make out the distant scenery. On the beach nearby stood enormous ruins, with glints of cold light flickering among them.

There really was someone here!