He didn't know. And that was the problem. His faith had been severely shaken. He had tried praying since meeting the Horde, but it had been empty words. His heart was not in it. And without that commitment the words meant nothing, accomplished nothing. Turalyon knew the other paladins could cast their blessing upon soldiers, could sense evil, could even heal grievous wounds with but a touch. But he could not. He was not sure he had ever had such talents, and he certainly did not possess them now. He wondered if he ever would.

"You've gone quiet again." Khadgar leaned closer and nudged him with one hand. "Don't think too deeply or you'll fall right out of the saddle." His tone was friendly and only a little concerned, and Turalyon did his best to smile at the weak joke.

"I'm fine," he assured the old—seeming mage. "Just wondering what to do next."

"What do you mean?" Khadgar glanced around, and looked back at the troops marching behind them. "You're doing fine. Keep the men moving, make the best time we can, and hope we catch the Horde before they can do too much damage."

"I know." Turalyon frowned. "I just wish there was some way we could pass them and reach Quel'Thalas first. Perhaps Alleria's right—maybe I should let her go on ahead. But if she got caught, if anything happened to her…" he trailed off and glared at Khadgar, who was now grinning openly. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," his friend said, laughing. "But if you're this concerned about every soldier, we might as well give up now, because you won't be willing to send any of them into battle for fear they'll get hurt." Turalyon swatted at the mage, who ducked the blow, still laughing. And they rode on, the army stretching out behind them.

"Almost there," Turalyon assured Alleria, who was pacing around his horse as if he was standing still.

"I know that!" she snapped, barely looking up. "This is my home, remember? I know the distance better than you could!"

Turalyon sighed. It had been a long two weeks. Leading the army had been demanding, though he had already done much of the same work on previous marches. The difference was that, before, Lothar had been responsible for the final decisions. This time it was all up to Turalyon, and that had been an added weight, enough to make him lose sleep most nights. And then there had been Alleria. All the elves had been on edge the whole way, worrying what might be happening in Quel'Thalas. But the others had kept quiet, knowing voicing their concerns would only increase his stress and possibly slow them down further. Not Alleria. She had questioned every decision the whole way: why they were taking one valley and not another, why they were lighting camp fires instead of eating and sleeping cold, why they were halting at twilight instead of marching on into the night. Turalyon had been nervous enough about taking command, but Alleria's constant badgering had made it ten times worse. He felt like he was under constant scrutiny, and like every decision earned her further disapproval.

"We'll reach the base of the foothills soon," he reminded her. "Once we have we should be able to see the borders of Quel'Thalas. Then we'll know how far the Horde has gotten. Perhaps they were slowed going over the mountains, and have not yet reached it." That had been one blessing, at least. Lothar had persuaded the Wildhammer dwarves to send one of their number down to Alterac. The dwarf had carried orders for Admiral Proudmoore, who had several ships stationed near Darrowmere Lake.

Upon receiving the orders Proudmoore had dispatched his ships down the river. They had met up with Turalyon and the army just below Stromgarde and ferried the soldiers on board. They had then sailed upriver past the mountains, instead of going over them as the Horde had done. It had saved them considerable time. Turalyon just hoped it would be enough. He would have preferred to sail straight to Quel'Thalas, but Alleria had assured him that would be impossible. Her kin would never allow human ships up their portion of the river. They had been forced to disembark near Stratholme and proceed on foot once again.

"Once I see the forest I'm going on ahead," Alleria warned. "Don't try to stop me."

"I don't want to stop you," Turalyon replied, pleased to see a momentary smile cross her face, followed by surprise. "I want you and your rangers to find your brethren and warn them," he reminded her. "I just didn't want you possibly running into the entire Horde on the way. But we're close enough now that, if the Horde did get here first, we'll be able to distract them. That'll give you time to slip past and rally your kin. Then you can hit them from behind while we attack from the front, and we'll catch the Horde between us."

Alleria nodded. She glanced up at him, silent for once, and then laid a hand along his leg. To Turalyon it felt like the touch radiated the heat of a small sun, setting his blood on fire and his limbs tingling. "Thank you," she said softly. He nodded, unable to speak.

One of her rangers broke the moment by dashing back toward them. "The end of the hills lies just ahead," he told them quickly. "I can see the trees beyond!"

Alleria glanced up at Turalyon, who nodded, pleased that for once she was asking permission. She turned and raced away, the other ranger right beside her. But she didn't get far. The two elves were still in sight when they stopped as if struck, and stared. Then Alleria wailed, a sound full of such grief as Turalyon had never heard.

"By the Light!" Kicking his steed into a full gallop, Turalyon raced to her side. And then froze, tugging his horse to a stop, as he too saw what had upset them so. The foothills had indeed ended, and the majestic forest of Quel'Thalas, home of the high elves, spread out before them. Its tall trees swayed gently, almost as if dancing to silent music, and their heavy boughs cast deep shadows upon the land, shadows that somehow seemed peaceful rather than ominous. It was a beautiful scene, full of calm and quiet majesty.

Broken only by the thick clouds of gray smoke billowing up from several spots, including one along the front edge but slightly west of their own position. Squinting, Turalyon could see dark figures swarming among the trees there, and great gaps in the leafy canopy alongside them. He could also just make out great tongues of flame licking over thick objects in the empty spaces, and the smell of green wood burning reached him, almost choking him.

The Horde had arrived first after all.

And they were burning Quel'Thalas.

"We have to stop them!" Alleria cried. She spun back toward Turalyon. "We need to stop them!"

"We will," he told her. He looked out a second time, making sure what he saw, then turned to the herald just behind him. "Inform the unit leaders," he announced. "We will ride north through the hills until we are level with the orcs. Then we will charge, taking them unawares. Warn the men to gather water as best they can, and detail several units to put out those fires. We don't want the forest burning down around us." The herald nodded, saluted, and wheeled his horse around, riding back to convey the new orders. Turalyon was already turning to Khadgar. "Can you do something to stop the fires?" he asked.

His friend grinned. "Will a thunderstorm suffice?"

"As long as the lightning does not find any more trees, yes." Turalyon turned to Alleria. "Alleria." She did not respond, but still stared at the smoke, her face pale. "Alleria!" That snapped her around to face him. "Take your rangers and go. Go! Your brethren are no doubt already fighting the Horde somewhere within the forest. Find them and let them know we are here. We need to coordinate our attacks or the Horde will crush your people within the trees and then smother us without." She stared at him, nodding but still in shock. "Now!" he snapped, hating to speak to her so harshly but knowing it was the only way. "Or are you too slow to make it to the trees safely?