Retreat

"Commander!" A Forsaken stumbled inside, and the scene within made him think he had barged into an important meeting. Tatsel and the others all looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Commander."

"You're forgiven, soldier," Tatsel said. "What news do you have?"

"Captain Harkel of The Witherer has already clashed with Southshore's defenders. The Wavebreaker and Wrathful Howl request permission to support the battlefield."

"No!" Jaina's face went pale as she hurriedly shook her head. "They can't fight."

"Tatsel!" Meryl called the Fleet Commander's name. The woman stiffened like a drawn bowstring.

"Tell them not to act rashly." In Jaina's eyes, this might have been the wisest decision the commander had made in quite some time.

From the moment the battle began, Rend had been searching for the Forsaken commander. From his experience fighting the Scourge, once the leader was eliminated, the remaining enemies would collapse without a fight.

But he saw no one who looked like they were directing the battle. His eyes swept the surroundings again and again. The Undead hunted the living, while the humans and Dwarves sought out Forsaken to kill. Those wielding weapons were certainly not commanders; Undead commanders generally knew magic. Even Death Knights had spells far more dangerous than their swords.

The corpse of an Undead sailor lay at his feet.

Rend heard a series of sucking sounds. Turning his head, he saw a figure completely hidden beneath a black robe, kneeling on the ice before a recently fallen human soldier. Rend could not be mistaken—the soldier's body was being drained of vein-like strands, carrying away an endless stream of blood.

Rend's entire world exploded. He could accept the fact that his soldiers had died, but he could not endure seeing their corpses desecrated.

"That must be their commander!"

Rend charged forward. The battlefield