The new ogre bowed its heads. "Thank you, master," the more somber head said before the creature followed Cho'gall away. Gul'dan knew his assistant would set the new ogre mage to work powering the Altar again. And with each use they would gain another two—headed ogre. He knew he could not expect most of them to be ogre magi—that was too much to hope for. But if even one in ten possessed the necessary intelligence he would be able to assemble a second Altar and power that one as well. Gul'dan chuckled. He would transform every ogre in the Horde if Doomhammer did not stop him. And why would he? As far as Doomhammer knew, he was getting bigger, stronger warriors. The Warchief would never suspect that these new creatures were completely loyal to Gul'dan and not him, and Gul'dan would make sure his new servants did not reveal their true loyalties too soon. Only when the time was right. And then Doomhammer would discover there was a new faction within the Horde, one he could not so easily destroy or cast aside.

Gul'dan laughed again and turned away. Cho'gall would handle the rest of the process here. He had other tasks to oversee, ones that would later lead to his finally claiming the power that lay waiting for him elsewhere.

"By Silvermoon, where are they?" Alleria raced through the forest, sword in hand, the leaves and branches whipping past her as a blur. The other rangers had fanned out to cover more ground, and Alleria hoped they hadn't run into any orcs or trolls. She wanted those miserable green—skinned intruders for herself.

Not for the first time since seeing the fires she wished she'd never left home. Why had she decided that the Alliance needed her help? Weren't Anasterian Sunstrider and the other council members far older and wiser than she was, and thus far better equipped to decide what aid they should offer the younger races? Then again, Anasterian had been convinced the Horde would never pose a threat to them here in Quel'Thalas. That was why he had felt the Alliance was not their concern, because they were safe from whatever was occurring in the outside world.

Clearly he had been wrong.

Still, if Alleria had listened to him and abided by his decision she would have been here, not sailing downriver and marching over hills. She would have been here when the orcs and trolls arrived, here with her family and her people when the Horde breached their borders.

Would it have made any difference? She didn't know. Perhaps not. What could one more ranger have done to stop an enemy she wouldn't even realize was approaching? But at least she wouldn't now feel like she had deserted them in their hour of need.

The thought spurred her to even greater speed, and she leaped over a low bush into a tiny clearing between two clusters of trees—and found herself staring down the tip of a hunting arrow aimed at her throat.

The figure holding the bow was nearly as tall as her and wearing similar garb, though far less travel—stained. Long hair streamed back from beneath the cloak's hood and seemed to gleam like ivory in the sunlight, a shining silvery white that Alleria knew too well to ever mistake it.

"Vereesa?"

The other figure lowered the bow, her blue eyes wide with surprise and relief. "Alleria?" Then the bow had been tossed aside, and Alleria's younger sister had caught her up in a rough embrace. "You're home!"

"Of course." Alleria squeezed Vereesa in return and patted her head, a gesture so familiar it was automatic. "Are you all right?" she asked after a minute. "Where's Sylvanas? Are Mother and Father safe?"

"They're fine," Vereesa answered, disengaging and bending to retrieve her weapons. "Sylvanas is with a hunting party near the riverbank. As for Mother and Father, they should be in Silvermoon by now. They went to consult with the elders." She paused, fitting the arrow back to her string. "Alleria, where have you been? And what's going on? There are fires! All over Quel'Thalas! And some of the other rangers—they haven't reported back."

Alleria felt her stomach twist at the news. If rangers were going missing, it meant the Horde had penetrated deep into the forest already. "We're being invaded, little sister," she told Vereesa bluntly, bringing her sword up and turning to put her back against her sister. Her ears twitched. "Now, quiet."

"Quiet? But why—" Vereesa's comments were cut off as a tall figure dropped from the trees above. It lunged forward, a short—hafted, long—bladed axe in one hand, but Alleria had heard it just before its descent and was ready for it. She brought her sword up, parrying the blow, and spun to the side, neatly sidestepping its secondary attack with a long curving dagger. Her sword arced about and removed the creature's head and it pitched forward, the weapons falling from its now—lifeless fingers.

"Quick!" Alleria warned, stooping quickly and then straightening again. "We need to move! Now!" Vereesa, wide—eyed at the sudden bloodshed, nodded and turned away, running as much from the violence as from her sister's order. She was young still, the youngest of the three sisters, and had never seen real combat before. Alleria had hoped it would be a long time before that would happen but it was too late to worry about that now.

They ran through the woods, and Alleria was sure she heard laughter above them somewhere. Trolls! The creatures were following them, keeping pace on the branches above. No doubt they planned to drop down on her and Vereesa and kill both of them before they could find help. But the trolls didn't know this wood. Alleria did.

She ran, leading both Vereesa and their unseen pursuers, twisting and turning and leaping, crossing streams and clearings, darting through groves, ducking under trees and vines. Vereesa kept pace, her bow still in her hands. And the laughter clung to them as well.

Then Alleria saw a ribbon of silver ahead. The river! She put on a spurt of additional speed, Vereesa matching her, and they burst from the trees onto the strip of open land beside the river. She felt the impact behind her as one and then several trolls dropped from the trees, knowing they would have to catch her before she could wade into the deep water and float or swim beyond their reach. Trolls did not like water.

"Nice chase, pale one," one of the creatures behind her growled. "But now you die!"

Hands reached for her, long claws scraped at her, catching at her hair, but Alleria twisted away, avoiding their grasp. She spun around, sword coming up, ready to fight as long as she could—and watched as the troll stiffened and toppled backward. A long shaft protruded from its neck.

Similar shafts struck the other trolls, felling them before they could retreat to the safety of the trees. And Alleria, turning back toward the river, glanced around and saw several rangers on the far bank, their bows still quivering from the recent archery. One of them wore a long green cloak and a more ornate tunic than the others. She had long blond hair, darker than Alleria's but otherwise similar, and eyes more gray than green or blue but the same shape as both hers and Vereesa's. The other rangers positioned themselves around her as she smiled and held up her bow in salute.

"Welcome home, Alleria!" Sylvanas called. "Now what is this trouble you have brought us?" Even from across the river she radiated intensity, as if she could will the answers to appear.

Alleria smiled at her sister's greeting—Sylvanas, Ranger General of all Quel'Thalas, was as forceful as ever—then shook her head. "I did not bring it, Sylvanas," she answered truthfully. "I had hoped to outrun it. But I do bring possible salvation." She glanced back at the dead trolls behind her, and at Vereesa, who stood swaying and pale and resolutely facing away from the recent corpses. "I must speak to the Council."