The King's War
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.
