Orcs were not constrained by the polite rules that humans observed in battle, the chosen force had planned to attack at night when their opponents would be at their most vulnerable. Orcs could see far better in the darkness than humans had the ability to, and they had no compulsion to use this to their advantage.

Gorthan had explained all that to her the following morning. Her friends were busy preparing a feast for the warriors who were to go forth once the darkness settled. Today they made a special brew, old Utaki knew how, the ancient troll had labored over it since the early hours of the morning with Taz’jani at his side. The two trolls brewed it in a huge cauldron, beneath it smoldered an ever-present batch of coals. There were many ingredients, herbs, mushrooms, even blood, and tree bark.

The finished product looked black, like some putrid goblin ale, and gave off an unusual aroma. Sasha could not judge it to be pleasant, but it did not surprisingly revolt her senses either. The orcs all lined up, drinking horns in hand, dipping them into the dubious brew, and drinking it deeply. Multiple pigs were roasting on spits and all the warriors feasted. They would not go to the burning hell’s on an empty belly. The afternoon had a feeling of celebration, orcs did not seem to have a fear of war. They embraced it.

The shadows grew long, the men were beginning to report to their Captains, to check over their weapons for a final time, and saddle up the worgs. Sasha roamed the camp fretting at the evening to come. Very few noticed her except Taz’jani.

“Ju sit here,” she indicated. Patting at a rug that was folded next to her. Sasha obediently complied and watched the men prepare before her. She was in her wanderings only in the way.

“Dat be a strong brew, Taz’jani commented. “They not fear.”

Sasha could see that what they had drunk had lent the orcs even more fervor for the battle ahead. There was great excitement in the camp, it felt like a festive holiday. A very different feeling than the scenes her Father had described for the troops of Stormwind on the eve of battle. Human men were afraid to die, at least most were.

As the darkness descended Gorthan strode toward her. His gold eyes burned brightly, reflecting the light of the numerous bonfires. He had donned warpaint, making him look even more savage, he seemed happy, and she could tell by the slur in his voice he had partaken in a substantial fashion of the berserker brew.

“Blood and Thunder!” He exclaimed loudly. Sasha jumped at his booming pronouncement.

She rose and embraced him, he was hot against her skin.

“Come back safe and whole,” she said as she held him tightly. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

“I will,” he said with a hint of mischief in his voice. He flashed one of his goofy, pointed-toothed smiles, but after yesterday Sasha realized he was a killer, and there was no taking back the viciousness of what she had seen. Many men would die this night.

The following morning as dawn broke the war party returned, Sasha had not slept at all. She had spent the majority of the night at the worg pens, and with Taz’jani. The brazen attack had been a success, there were no deaths, and very few injuries among the orcs. The army of Stormwind who had not yet completely dug into their positions, had been harried and routed. Many were slain. It would indeed be a setback for King Wrynn.

This first victory didn’t really help the orc’s situation though, the supply lines from the Burning Steppes were still closed, and it only represented a delay in the real war.

Gorthan returned unscathed. Sasha was grateful, and that evening they made fierce love. She lay beneath his crushing weight, breathless in his furs, her wild hair strewn over his brawny forearms. He told her of the battle, the bravery, and the carnage. She listened enthralled, her eyes glinting in the half-dark.

Orcs saw things differently from humans, his account at times was chilling to take in. These were after all her people who were being slaughtered wholesale. She wondered how her dear Father had fared, was he one of the men holding the pass to Burning Steppes closed? She hoped he was safe.

As Gorthan had decreed, little Frostfyre was returned to the worg pens to live full time. Sasha was sad, but the stubborn orc was adamant that the tiny worg needed to be among other worgs to reach her full potential. Sasha watched the small pup being tumbled about so roughly by her litter mates, and her heart was torn. Gorthan on the other hand seemed to possess no such emotion, as he took Sasha’s hand and led her away.

Every night the sorties to attack the King’s army continued. Sometimes Gorthan went, and other times he remained behind. He like most of the orc warriors came back uninjured, but as King Wrynn’s army finally settled to surround them in the fortress that was Stonewatch, the losses became progressively larger, and the injuries more dire.

War was now on their doorstep, the alliance forces had finally tightened their noose around the Blackrocks and controlled the field. Food was fast becoming a problem, rationing had already been employed. Orcs favored a diet of fresh meat, but now they must resort in the majority to chewing on dried flesh, and the tasteless flatbread they could create from the stores.

Gorthan did not complain, but Sasha could tell that he did not enjoy these rations. She didn’t very much either, the hard meat being almost impossible for her to chew.

The ballistas were now lined up with a clear view over the valley below. They often woke her in the night as they were fired, and her heart would jolt in her chest. She would sit right up listening intently, distant were the cries of battle and the wounded from the valley far below. Evenings she would walk hand in hand with Gorthan, or be accompanied if he was absent by Taz’jani to the perimeter of the keep, to gaze at the sprawling enemy army encamped down below. The war machine was brutal and heartless she reflected as she watched the tides of war ebb and flow.

She could see the ranks of King Wrynn’s knights all shining silver argent, the masses of pikemen assembled in tight squares. She watched on as noble horses fell, and the fierce battle worgs collapsed in a sea of blood. It sickened her war and its waste, and she would turn from it and head back to the tent they shared. She wondered how long it would be until one side could claim a victory?

This was her own war story, and it was nothing like she had thought it would be. The days passed and disturbingly King Wrynn’s forces seemed to slowly be inching their way up the valley ever closer to the foot of Stonewatch.

“Are we losing?” She said one night to Gorthan as he crouched silently beside her. The huge orc turned, setting his golden gaze on her, but he did not answer immediately. Sasha felt a rush of fear, was that uncertainty she saw there?

“They greatly outnumber us,” he said, but that was all.

Sasha did not press him further, instead she just put her arm about his warm bulk and nestled into his side. She could tell he was thinking, probably thoughts that he would never share. He would, she knew, be brave, even in the face of defeat.

*****

They were fortunate that Stonewatch would not run out of water. The closing days of summer were mercilessly hot. There had been no rain. Every day Sasha and Taz’jani along with many strong warriors would make their way to the head of the plunging waterfall to collect water for the camp. It was a dangerous activity. The great falls rose from the ground seemingly out of nowhere, right at the edge of the cliff face, and plunged hundreds of feet into Lake Everstill below. One day she had seen a warrior slip and fall. His fingers held for moments on the slippery rocks in a tableau of horrific suspense. He was then dashed on the rocks some hundreds of feet below.

Sometimes King Wrynn’s emissaries would come to Stonewatch parlaying for a cessation of the hostilities, that they may retrieve and bury their dead. The orcs with no such compulsions sometimes agreed, and sometimes they chose to break this tenuous peace simply because they could. Other times they would kill the unfortunate messenger, sending his mutilated body back on his horse.

One morning as Sasha and Gorthan first stirred beneath the furs, there was a warrior at the tent opening. He had by his side a well-made sword, it was curved in its design, it would have been a two-handed affair in a human man’s grasp, but for a powerful orc, it was a swift one-handed weapon. He wore the volcanic red of Gath’llzogg’s personal guard, and the longer she stared, the better she could remember this individual on the day she had been carted so unceremoniously to the tower.

Gorthan rose on seeing this particular orc, and it would appear to Sasha that they exchanged pleasantries. They spoke at length before he departed.

“Get dressed,” Gorthan said. The timbre of his voice had changed, something was wrong.

She pressed him for the cause, but all he said was that every orc had to make reluctant sacrifices for the war effort. It was a very evasive answer. One she did not like.

Together they walked to the tower, Sasha’s skin prickled as they entered the dark portcullis and began to ascend the stone steps. They emerged into the war room where Gath’llzogg sat pawing over his maps and charts.

Sasha really wished she understood what they said. Gorthan seemed displeased, the Warchief appeared very firm, as though he were dictating conditions. Sasha now fearful squeezed his hand intermittently, and he returned the gesture. Gorthan nodded to his chief and escorted her from the dark chamber.

No sooner than she was away from the ears of the Warchief, Sasha had dared to ask. “What was all that about?”

The immense brown-skinned warrior turned about to face her, he put his hands around her tiny waist and looked her in the eye. “They want your father to see you, that we may negotiate terms.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped open, she was for a moment quite speechless. Then just as suddenly she found her voice. “I am not his daughter, when will you believe me!”

“You must do this,” was all he said in reply.

She was a commoner, with a noble’s name, in Stormwind she rarely even got a distant glimpse of the King, and yet today he was supposed to see her. She was angry that her word was not believed, not even by the one she loved. She was marched to a sturdy stake that overlooked the Alliance encampment and tied there, Gorthan stood guard by her side.

“I will not let anything happen to you,” he said.

Sasha had a commanding view of the battlefield from this position. She watched Gath’llzogg and his heavily armed entourage laden with the volcanic banner of the Blackrock, meet Varian Wrynn amid his host of shining knights on the field. The King of Stormwind wore no helmet, his ample dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and his armor bore the trademark lions of his rule in bold blue and gold. Shalamayne belted at his side.

He was distant, but she saw him turn to regard her for long moments. She could hardly believe she was being assessed by the ruler of her people, and a pawn in this vicious game.

The two leaders conferred a time, and both parted ways as the lines were drawn for a resumption of the battle. Gath’llzogg rode by on his slavering worg, he looked disappointed as though he had been played the fool. Sasha was pretty sure she knew why.

*****

The ensuing engagement was fierce. Sasha sat with Gorthan as he readied himself again for battle.

“I am sorry,” he said with contrition, “that I didn’t believe you.”

Sasha wanted to cry, tears were at the corner of her eyes hampering her vision. Knowing every time her bold orc left it may be the last time. She clutched him to her and kissed him with a passion. “It does not matter,” she said, “fight well and come back to me.”

*****

King Wrynn’s forces pressed ever closer in the subsequent days. It was obvious to all that the Blackrock were losing this battle by slow degrees, but not one soul gave vent to the idea. They simply fought and died, it was the orc way.

Sasha had begun to keep a backpack containing all she needed for her exodus by the bed, it was not a matter of if they would come, but when? The night before last had seen the first cannon fire rain down on the keep, fortunately, there had been little death or damage. However, all knew that would change.

The following day the trebuchets and the lines of brass cannons drew closer, and the real bombardment began. Stone walls that had stood firm for hundreds of years shattered and fell. Fire rained from the sky. The sunset was bloody over the battlefield, littered with the dead and the dying. They were cornered and fighting for their lives.

Gorthan had been on the front lines all day, Sasha was both relieved and surprised to see him as the day drew into darkness. He came towards her his body bathed in the crimson of the vanquished, his notched battle axe dripping gore, ebony hair running with blood. She rushed to him with little care for the mess he was in.

“Are you hurt?” She said breathlessly.

He shook his shaggy mane.

She had asked him this same question every evening prior, and fortunately, he had returned to her unscathed.

“You must be ready,” he said, “they are close, and breaking through our lines.” His deep voice was hard to hear over the scream of the projectiles being fired, and the pitted tower above that had begun to crumble and fall. The dense smoke hung acrid in the air, and fires burned indiscriminately across the hillside. “It will be tonight, do you remember the way?”

Sasha felt his earnest grip on her arm, it panicked her, but she managed to nod.

“Here, take this key. It will free the captives, find Taz’jani, go with them, and flee. I have left supplies in your backpack, everything you may need.” She felt the iron still warm from his body as the large key was pressed into her hands, and as she looked across behind her love she saw a bright flash of Stormwind blue and realized the fires now raged uncontrolled down near the worg pens.

“What about the worgs?” She managed at last to say. Thinking of her precious Frostyre trapped in the worst of the fighting. Gorthan gazed back over his immense shoulder at the ruin that was the camp. “The lines are broken, you must flee. Go, Sasha, be safe,” he hugged her close and they kissed.

Sasha did not wish to part from that kiss, but he pushed her away. He turned from her shouldering his immense axe as he said, “I must go and defend my brothers, now go!” With that, he was lost in the smoke and the sea of struggling bodies.

Sasha stood transfixed, staring after him, her blissful world of the past couple of months had fallen into ruin.

“Dere ju are Sha Sha!” Taz’jani shouted over the din. The friendly voice at once pulled the young woman out of her stupor.

“I must get my things, and we must flee. I have the key to Ruz’s prison and Gartosh’s chains. Again the screams of the dying and the sound of trebuchet fire rent the night.

Sasha and Taz’jani ran to the tent that she had shared with Gorthan. She grabbed her bow and quiver, but as she made to lift her backpack she realized it was way too heavy for her to carry. She found that a touch strange, but in her panic didn’t dwell on it too heavily.

“Give dat ere,” Tazjani said, “I carry for you.”

Sasha was glad her friend was robust, and she lifted the heavy pack with ease. They ran from the tent under a hail of arrow fire and angry sparks and made for the slave quarters. There was less fighting here, this location largely free of wildfires, but it would not be too long before the wholesale fighting reached here as well. She could hear the clash of steel, shouts, and cries of the dying, somewhere a horse neighed.

The slave quarters were dark, Utaki had been watching from the barred window as the battle raged below.

Taz’jani took the heavy iron key and unlocked Gartosh’s chains, he was difficult to communicate with because of the language barrier, but he seemed to understand what was wanted of him.

Ruzuluku though was quite another matter. “I can’t be a goin from here,” he said. “I be cursed. If I leave da cage I die.”

“Damn you Ruz! Taz’jani swore, “Ju be a dyin if ju stay. Ju fool! We need ju help. That army be a butcherin a troll just as soon as an orc!”

Finally after much argument Ruzuluku agreed to leave the confines of his prison. “Da doctor he got me now,” he uttered in resignation.

They looked carefully out of the doorway, the coast looked clear.

“But where do we go?” Taz’jani questioned.

“I know a way out, follow me,” Sasha said confidently.

“Ah, and I just be a tinkin you two lovebirds be findin a secret place.” She cackled.

It was dark, and for the moment quiet, the sounds of the battle distant. They took the winding, well-worn path up to the foot of Stonewatch. Closer to the shattered tower, debris littered their path, they found they had to scramble over the displaced rubble and it greatly slowed their exodus.

“I know a better way, get on!” Ruzuluku suggested, and in the space of a heartbeat, he had transformed into his dire bear form. Taz’jani had understood and urged the others to climb onto his broad back, he would provide a far faster vehicle for escape, and his defensive skills were strong.

Sasha sat to the front, guiding Ruz toward the hidden pathway, grasping his thick green hair for balance. He carried all of them easily, bounding over the displaced rocks, and shattered trees, weaving wildly in between the projectiles that still struck the tower with brute force. Fires were beginning to catch hold here too, burning across the dried grass. Sasha hoped she could still find the path with all the destruction that had altered the landmarks.

There was a sudden muzzle flash to her left, accompanied by a loud bang. She felt Ruzuluku flinch and he momentarily stumbled, righting himself to continue forward. She saw the white-bearded dwarf then in the half-dark, priming his muzzleloader, readying to fire another round. They were close to the drop-off, she could see the tight brush looming just ahead.

“Through there,” she pointed, “But slow down or we will fall from the edge.” She hoped that Ruzuluku had understood.

They held on as Ruzuluku pressed through the barrier. His powerful shoulders absorbed the worst of the tearing, scraping sticks. Sasha was glad she had seen fit to wear her hide pants, they cushioned her legs from the worst of the impact. Another booming shot rang out, she heard Ruz growl, and she knew he had been struck in the behind by the projectile.

“Are you alright Ruz?” She cried close to his stubby green ears. But he didn’t answer, he just kept up a breakneck pace down the narrow, twisting path. He slipped and almost fell, Sasha held on for dear life, as did her companions. She saw the great bear teeter, and she looked below her to see the drop off of some one hundred and fifty feet as she held herself in her precarious seat.

Somehow they made the base of the red cliffs. Ruzuluku growled and sunk down to the earth, his breathing ragged and rasping wetly in his great chest. The four escapees tumbled from his back as he involuntarily shifted, and lay on the sand, a troll once more.

“Ruz! Ruz!” Taz’jani and Sasha cried in unison, shaking him.

“Utaki I think he been hit. Is dere anythin ju can do?”

There was spreading darkness like a flood beneath Ruzuluku as he lay gasping for breath, the druid was clutching at his chest. “It was the curse,” he gasped between labored breaths. “But ju all are safe.”

Utaki was bent over the druid, he was shaking his head. The wound was mortal, he had been hit with that first shot, but valiantly the druid had used the last of his strength to hold his dire bear form and make it down to the base of the path to rescue his friends.

“Oh Ruz,” Taz’jani cried, “ju cant leave us now, we finally be free.” Pain was in her voice.

Ruz looked up at Taz’jani, his one good eye was already glazing over, he tried to speak but in the next moment, he was gone.

Sasha looked back at the trail hoping they had not been followed, she could detect no movement above, but the presence of the dwarven ranger had unnerved her. She could sight the glow of the fires above as they lit up the night sky. The broken tower stood in a stark black silhouette against the orange backdrop. She fretted for Gorthan, and prayed he would survive.

“We can’t linger here,” she said finally, “not with that ranger about.”

Taz’jani closed her friend's eyes and rose from her knees. “Ju are right.” Her voice was hollow and sad.

Gartosh saluted the dead troll and communicated in his difficult way to Taz’jani that he was going to leave for his home. He clasped Sasha’s and Utaki’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie and thankfulness, and then he ran off into the darkness.

“So what now?” Taz’jani looked at Sasha levelly.

“I must get to Lakeshire where we can get some help.”

“Dat be a human settlement, troll can’t go there.”

“I will explain…”

No, we can’t go wid ya, Sha Sha, troll human enemy too, we be joinin Ruz ere if we try. We take you near so we know ju safe, and then we try and get back to Stranglethorn.”

Old Utaki nodded in agreement.

Sasha overcome by emotion hugged her blue friend. It had already been one hell of an evening and it wasn't over yet. The death of the big druid was sobering and distressing, made worse by the fact they must leave him where he fell.

“We have to be careful there are gnolls about,” Sasha advised. “I have no idea if they are nocturnal but they were here in the daylight, the road to Duskwood and Lakeshire can’t be far.”

The trio pressed on in silence, skirting the widely scattered gnoll camps that dotted the area near the lake. Sasha would often look back at the orange-tinged peak behind, and wondered how her beloved fared? Could they ever have won, or were the orcs always doomed? The thought tore her already ragged emotions.

They found the well-worn road at last and proceeded to travel it. There was no one on it this small hour. The tall trees that lined it were silent and dark. Sasha figured it to be the wee hours of the morning, she didn’t sense dawn was imminent. However, with the course of the night’s events, she felt much confusion.

“Is it far?” Taz’jani whispered.

“I really am not sure, to be honest, Taz. I have never been here before.”

The trio walked in silence for some time. The dark tree canopies crowding above them and the red cliffs to their left. The soft red sand beneath their feet was still warm from the daylight and silenced their steps.

“Dere look I see da lights.” Taz’jani pointed to a dim yellow light that emanated through the trees. “That must be Lakeshire. We take ja as close as we can then we be a leavin ja.”

Sasha nodded, and began to wonder how on earth she would carry that overstuffed backpack all the way across the great bridge? Perhaps she would just have to pull it apart and repack it with the items she really needed?

The blue troll was right, the lamps of Lakeshire shone vaguely through the trees up ahead. The trio continued forward as far as they dared, Taz’jani set down the heavy pack at Sasha’s feet and hugged her tightly. “I will miss ju sistah.”

Sasha herself was teary-eyed, and her nose began to snuffle. “I will miss you too.” She hated to part from her wonderful troll friend because she really didn’t know if she would ever see Taz again. The world was big, and she feared that now she must return to Stormwind, be expected to marry, and no longer travel Azeroth.

“Now you both be careful I will never forget you.” She gave her blue friend one last, tight hug.

Suddenly from behind them came the loud clop of horse’s metal shod hooves. It was more than just one lone rider, it was a chivalry of King Wrynn’s knights! Worse still she was sure they had been spotted. Sasha cursed under her breath in a very unladylike manner at how careless her vigilance had become. The escape and the many sleepless nights leading up to it had taken more out of her than she had recognized. The trio froze and looked at one another in horror momentarily, before taking action.

“Quick hide!” Taz’jani broke the silence, but it was already too late.

“Halt!” An authoritative male voice boomed. “Or we will shoot.”

The region was embroiled in war, and the King’s knights probably had orders to shoot on sight, of which the young woman was well aware. She stayed her friends.

“Let me explain,” she said trying to reassure the two trolls. “They will listen to me.”

Sasha turned about to face the ring of mounted men, their armor shone even in the dim light. There were five knights in all, clad in the King’s colors. The man who had spoken rode forward on his large gray warhorse. He had his sword drawn, and his cohorts sat quietly, crossbows trained on the rag-tag party.

“I am Sasha Wrynn,” she explained to the Knight, and these are my friends Taz’jani and Utaki, we were all kept as captives in Stonewatch keep.”

“Hum, Devin’s missing girl.”

“Yes sir. There is a dead troll back down that pathway.” Sasha pointed off into the tangle of dark trees. “He saved us, please honor him with a decent burial.”

The knight looked where she had indicated and nodded.

He turned about to face his men, “take the trolls to the garrison, and bring the ladies’ pack to the inn,” he said.

“No!” Sasha scolded. “They are my friends, you can’t just take them away and imprison them!”

“Trolls are the enemy,” he stated flatly. “We are at war. You young lady can come with me.”

With that said he rode up to Sasha and lifted her as though she was no more than a child, placing her before him on his steed.

“No!” Sasha struggled futilely in his chain mail-clad arms. “I will get you out.” She cried to her friends as they were being herded away at sword point.

The knight kicked his spurs into his beast and it flew with a jolt into a flying gallop.

Sasha hoped that this misunderstanding could be sorted out duly once she got to Lakeshire. The horse’s metal shod hooves were loud as they crossed the bridge into the semi-sleeping township. She took a look to the east where she could see the orange glow of the battle still, and if she looked carefully the faintest image of the keep, backlit against the night sky.

There were many people about considering the hour. It was war she reminded herself, souls were restless. She was at once escorted to the inn, where she was billeted in an upstairs room, with a guard on the door.

The exhausted young woman sat on the bed her eyelids drooping, fighting the lure of sleep. She was about to give into it when the door opened and a kindly-looking elderly gentleman walked in with a leather case which he set down by the bed.

“I am Doctor Jameson young lady, I was sent to examine you, I am sure your captivity was harsh. Are you injured at all?”

“No,” she said “I'm quite fine sir. They treated me very well.” Hoping to head him off. All she wanted right now was a good sleep. She could see by the Doctors expression that he didn’t believe her comment at all.

“Well, young lady the General ordered that I give you a look over just to be sure." He pulled a small vial from his leather medicine bag. "Here drink up, the lotus will help you rest.”

Sasha sighed with annoyance, but she did as instructed, this examination was the last thing she felt like right now. She was weary, but she also wanted to talk to someone who would release her friends. They were no war criminals, she had to find someone who would listen.

*****

She awoke the next morning after a deep, dreamless slumber in a borrowed white linen nightdress disoriented and frightened. She was no longer in her room at the inn, she was bumping about in a cart that was approaching the gates of Stormwind, accompanied by a column of injured and weary soldiers.

She sat up and looked about her, uneasy in the sights of so many young military men. At once pulling the blanket over her narrow shoulders to conceal her flimsy nightwear. Immediately she noticed her pack tucked in beside her. She gazed about but her dear friends were nowhere to be seen, just the silver and blue sea of soldier’s uniforms.

“Almost there,” the driver of the cart called to her. Even if that was obvious, she figured he was just trying to reassure her. She was far from calm though, she knew she would have to shortly stand before her Father and tell him what she had done. She had after all broken her promise in defying his orders. Sasha was sure he would be very angry.

She tried to take in the calm that emanated from the forest landscape about her delighting in the lovely summer's day. Dark eyes on Elwynn thinking that perhaps after all this her father would forbid her to ever visit it again. The thought made her very sad.