Close-Quarters Combat

"Captain, the human ship has arrived."

Harkel laughed loudly, "How many people?"

"The observer said there were at least two hundred men, including captains. Some of their ships were merchant vessels, and others were converted fishing boats."

Just then, several shells were fired, splashing water all over the sea.

"Their shells can't hit us, sir. But our range is sufficient!"

"What a pity, I was hoping to clash the Alliance's Seventh Fleet," Harkel sighed. It seemed to be the first time in days she'd sighed, disappointed by the lack of a worthy opponent. Those Crimson Crusade ships might be interesting, but what were those things she saw in the distance? Didn't the Alliance have a decent ship or two stationed in Southshore?

Since that's the case, then let them pay the price for their arrogance.

"Prepare to fire! All cannons, aim at those ships!" Harkel ordered, a cold smile playing on his lips as he looked at the human warships. The soldiers were loading shells and calculating positions; only firing was needed.

"Captain, look!" a crew member cried out in alarm, pointing to the sky. Harkel's attention shifted. He had assumed the enemy still had air power, but instead, he saw only a blanket of white snow.

"Snow?" The captain of the Witherer was taken aback; it wouldn't snow at this time of year...

"Behind us is Lord Meryl!"

Harkel frowned and immediately ran to the other side of the deck. The mage was floating on the sea, enveloped in wind and snow, chanting some incantation, each word causing the air temperature to plummet.

What was he doing? He was casting a spell on the Forsaken fleet! Harkel had had enough of Veronalara and Meryl's dovey ways. Now no one could stop her from seeking revenge against the Alliance, or from letting Meryl finish her spell.

"Fire at him!"

This command shocked almost all the Forsaken present. They looked at each other in disbelief at what Harkel had just said.

"Didn't you hear my order? Open fire on him."

"That's Meryl, he's Forsaken."

Why would we attack our own people?

"Lord of the Witherer won't be happy if he finds out."...

Questions arose one after another. Some people denounced Harkel as crazy, and several Forsaken even stood in front of the cannons to prevent the captain from doing anything crazy or stupid.

"Have you forgotten how the Alliance treated us? Have you forgotten what happened to the Shadowfang?"

Harkel was relieved that his words had quieted some people's expressions. But another wave of doubt followed.

"We haven't forgotten, but our target is only the Alliance. Lord Meryl is the leader of the Forsaken mages."

"He wants to stop us from taking revenge."

"Then he won't be our enemy."

Harkel gritted his teeth in anger. "We're going to attack our enemies, while Meryl wants to help them. How is he any different from the enemy?"

"Lord Meryl is simply doing what he believes is right. Just like your act of ordering an attack without Lord Tatsel's permission."

Anger urged Harkel to shoot those who questioned her, but reason told her she couldn't do that, or she would lose everyone's trust.

The magical explosions grew clearer, and Meryl roared as if using all his strength. The ice storm surrounding him began to spread outwards, its chilling force forming dark clouds that obscured the entire sky.

"The sea surface... is frozen."

Harkel didn't need anyone to remind her what was happening; she already sensed it. Now she only cared about two things: first, whether Meryl could still cast other spells; and second, whether the crew would still obey her commands.

She stared intently at the mage, watching as Meryl knelt down, frozen on the ice he had sealed with magic.

Even if he were incredibly powerful, he would need rest after casting such a spell. Harkel sneered. Meryl, trying to stop her, inadvertently did her a huge favor. Not only the Forsaken's ships, but also human ships were rendered immobile.

"Quickly, seize the opportunity and turn the guns on the Alliance; they've become sitting ducks."

On the other side of the deck, the Forsaken the order, sprang into action. The tinderboxes were lit, and dozens of shells rained down on the waters Southshore, striking the ships and scattering debris in explosions. A sense of satisfaction rose within Harkel; she noticed many other Forsaken in the same boat as her.

"Keep firing."

Harkel turned back and gave another order, and saw that her men had already begun to do so. A moment later, she heard no sound of cannons firing.

"What happened?"

"The cannons are frozen, Captain."

Harkel stared in disbelief at the cannon fire encased in ice. The Forsaken's records of battles documented such a scene: the aerial battle at Icecrown Citadel in Northrend, a conflict between the Alliance and the Horde, in which, in order to win, both commanders opted to have their mages freeze the cannons on the opposing airships.

However, in that situation, only mages can cast spells at close range.

"The hyena has a woman behind it."

One of the Forsaken noticed the anomaly.

Harkel was about to order her to be shot down when another voice made her swallow her words.

"It's Ms. Proudmoore of Theramore."

Nathanos had gone to great lengths to save Jaina Proudmoore's city. Whatever special significance that woman held for the Witherer, Harkel didn't want to take the risk.

"We can't attack anymore."

"No, the sea is frozen, so we can land. Everyone, grab your weapons and charge toward the Alliance ship."

"Lord Rend, the Forsaken are charging in."

Rend, fully armored, could already hear the roar of the Undead Charge. Although he didn't understand why the sea was frozen, the Forsaken had abandoned their superior artillery fire and instead wanted to engage them in melee combat.

Did they think the Alliance had been scared away?

The Undead have Undead courage, and so do humans. They now need to prove it to the Forsaken.

"These Undead think we've lost the ability to resist, but whether in Lordaeron or Northrend, their own kind have always been defeated by us. Now is the time..."

Rend took up his sword and shield, weapons inherited from his brother Joseph, who had fought off the Scourge in Darrowshire. Marcus Rend believed he could do the same.

The other soldiers, sensing his command, grabbed their own weapons.

"They won't set foot on the shores of Southshore! For the Alliance, Charge!"