“As seniormost officer, it would behoove you to remain behind,” Denea had even suggested in her most courteous manner. “Just in case of trouble in the wilderness.”
Her point had had merit, but at the time Haldrissa had not been able to get past the thought that perhaps Denea had believed herself more capable of facing the rigors of the journey and any encounters during it. Haldrissa had declined the officer’s suggestion without hesitation. However, now, some time into the ride, the twinges Haldrissa felt made her occasionally wonder if she should have listened more.
But all thought of that vanished as Xanon returned with two other Sentinels from scouting the territory up ahead. Haldrissa had purposely chosen an obscure area less likely to be of interest to the Horde for the very reason that the enemy might have played on that reasoning. The commander had survived so long by learning to try to think like the enemy, however repulsive that might be to her at times. She had to do her best to expect the unexpected.
Of course, both Denea and Xanon had looked dubious when first informed where she intended to lead the party.
However, Xanon did not look so dubious now. In fact, his concerned expression made everyone who had been waiting—especially Haldrissa—sit straight and taut.
“What is it?” she asked the moment he was near.
“Best see,” he gasped, still exerted from the swift ride back. “This way!”
One brow raised at this curious reply, the commander waved the party to follow Xanon. The trained nightsabers leapt effortlessly and silently through the forest, dodging around trees and across uneven terrain with an agility that Haldrissa still admired after all these millennia. Each cat was in the prime of its life. For the first time the commander considered her previous mounts and the ends of their turbulent lives. While some nightsabers did perish in battle, more than a few had survived their last years crippled from previous injuries. It brought home again her own encroaching mortality.
The night elves kept a wary eye out, though thus far there was no indication as to what Xanon and the other pair had sighted. The male Sentinel hunched low as he rode, a sign of just how determined he was to get his commander to wherever they needed to be as quickly as possible. That boded ill, in her mind.
Then, deep into a dense part of the forest, amidst a small patch of winding hills, Xanon abruptly signaled for the party to slow to a trot. Haldrissa urged her mount alongside his, then leaned close.
“What . . . ?”
“Listen.”
She knew his ears were sharper than most, too, but, even taking that into account, the commander marveled that he heard anything. Even the nightsabers appeared not to notice anything out of the ordinary.
“I do not—” Haldrissa began, then paused. There was a very faint sound from far ahead. An odd, unsettling sound. It even had a strange rhythm to it, the same beat over and over and over.
“What is that?” one of the others murmured. “It sounds familiar. . . .”
“I want to see more.” Peering back at the party, she ordered, “The rest of you, keep back! Xanon and I will investigate from here on. If you are needed, we will try to signal.”
The rest of the Sentinels did not look pleased, but they obeyed. Xanon urged his nightsaber on, but at a much slower, more precise pace. Haldrissa made her mount match speed.
As they neared, Xanon readied his glaive. Haldrissa did the same.
The buzzing now dominated. It was a harsh, painful noise and was accompanied by a cracking sound. That sound, at least, the commander knew. It was the sound of wood breaking.
She now had a fairly good idea of what was going on, though the specifics of it still eluded her. Ever seeking expansion, the Horde had a voracious appetite for wood. They needed it for building, for their forges, for their growing fleets.
And that was why they most coveted Ashenvale.
“It would be wiser to go on foot from here,” Xanon whispered.
Nodding, Haldrissa dismounted, and then she and Xanon loosely tethered their cats. Highly intelligent, these nightsabers would obey the command to stay until called by one of the riders. In an emergency, it better served Haldrissa if the animals could quickly come to their aid.
Xanon once more took the lead, the younger night elf crouching low. The wind shifted toward them. While good in that it kept their scent from the orcs, it also brought a stench that answered some of Haldrissa’s other questions.
The smell included a combination of fuel and steam. Those were signs of a goblin machine. Several machines, judging by the potent and often suffocating odor. Goblins were almost the antithesis of night elves; they believed in the might of machines over nature and had little, if any, respect for the latter.
“There!” Xanon rasped, thrusting a finger to the northeast.
At first Haldrissa thought some armored giant stalked the forest, a giant intent on carnage. What in some ways resembled a glaive with far, far sharper, curved points spun madly at the end of one arm. The other arm ended in a monstrous claw with four digits that at that moment seized the trunk of a thick oak. The giant then thrust the spinning blades at the tree.
To her horror, the blades cut into the wood as if it were water. Within seconds the mighty oak teetered, its life already gone.
But the giant figure was not satisfied with just that. It shifted position and began slicing the tree into smaller pieces.
Only then did Haldrissa see that atop the head, there was a seat . . . and in that seat, a short figure with green skin, long ears, and a sadistic smile manipulated levers.
“A shredder,” she murmured back to Xanon. “A goblin shredder!” There had been reports of the machines being brought in farther east, but to find one this close was disturbing.
“Wait,” Xanon whispered. “Keep listening.”
Before she could ask why, the buzzing arose from another location. As the two looked, a second shredder trundled into view. The silver and crimson mechanism paused. The upper half turned to one side as no true creature could without breaking its spine. In the seat and half-shielded by the armored front, another goblin surveyed the nearest trees. Choosing one, he tugged on a lever, and the spinning blades began their diabolical work.
Haldrissa silently swore at such sacrilege. She started to rise—only to have sense make her duck down just as a third and fourth shredder stepped into sight.
“They have a major lumber operation in progress here,” the male night elf told her. “I counted two more before. They are ripping apart this area of Ashenvale as if the trees had no feelings, no importance!”
“Six shredders.” Haldrissa did some calculations. “We can handle that many—”
And then the scene became an even more horrible nightmare. Another shredder joined the others, followed by another and another and another. . . . More than a score quickly filled their view, and yet the numbers continued to grow.
“By Elune!” gasped Xanon. “This is worse than I imagined!”
“We must leave!” returned Haldrissa, beginning to back away. The two Sentinels, their eyes ever on the horror, retreated, heading for the area where they had left their mounts.
The wind shifted direction again. A thick smell of fuel and steam assailed Haldrissa from their left.
“Beware!” she cried, shoving Xanon away from that direction.
The shredder came crashing through the trees and brush, the metallic claws ripping away branches that blocked the path. High-pitched maniacal laughter cut above the sound of spinning blades. With a death’s-head grin, the goblin adjusted the levers.
The blades came at Haldrissa. She was forced to dodge toward her blind side and thus stumbled. The blades just barely grazed her shoulder. However, despite that and the fact that Haldrissa wore plate armor, the shredder was still able to cut through the metal and rip a tiny but painful gash in her flesh.