"Yes!" Kurdran whooped, catching his hammer as it returned and nudging Sky'ree up for another diving charge. "That's showed 'em, my beauty! It don't matter how big they are, the Wildhammers can bring 'em low!" He raised his hammer high and let out a loud whoop as he rose into the sky, his gryphon easily slipping past another brute's clumsy overhand swipe.

"What are you lot waiting for?" he bellowed at his warriors, who grinned from their own circling mounts. "I've shown you how it's done! Now get down there and make sure the rest of these giants come crashing down as well!" They saluted mockingly, knowing his taunts were good—natured, and wheeled their gryphons around to begin their own attacks.

Kurdran grinned. He glanced down and spotted the mage, the elf, and the commander he had met back in Aerie Peak. "Ho down there!" he bellowed, raising his hammer and twirling it above him. The elf raised her bow in salute, and the commander and the mage both nodded greetings. "Your Lord Lothar sent us!" Kurdran shouted, not sure they could hear him from this altitude. "And just in time, looks like!" Then he brought his hammer back down, gripping it with both hands once again, and steered Sky'ree back down toward the next of the mammoth two—headed creatures. Several had fallen already and the Horde was scattering around them, realizing their protectors were now actually a danger to them. And the humans and the elves were using the chaos to slaughter the panicked orcs left and right.

Then something shifted in the wind, and Kurdran glanced up. Above him to the south he saw a dark shape gliding down At first he thought it might be one of his warriors, come to relay news or orders, but then realized it did not fly right for a gryphon. And it seemed to be coming from more to the east, past the Hinterlands and possibly below them. But what?

Breaking off his attack, Kurdran brought Sky'ree back up beyond the brutes' reach and circled slowly, watching the approaching shadow. Was it a bird? If so it was higher than most, and its outline was strange. Some new form of attack? He laughed. It was no bigger than an eagle! Were the Horde sending eagles after them now, perhaps with gnomes perched on their backs? As if any raptor could stand against his beauty, he thought, patting Sky'ree's neck affectionately and receiving a musical caw in return.

But the shape was closer now, and growing larger. And larger. And larger still.

"By the Aerie!" Kurdran muttered, awed by its size. What was this thing that it could stay aloft and be so large? It was already as big as his Sky'ree, and he had a suspicion it was still high above him. Now he could make out its shape more clearly—long and lean, with a long tail and neck and great wings spread high above it and flapping only occasionally. The thing was gliding! It had to be high indeed to be coasting on the winds that way, and Kurdran felt a chill as he reestimated its size again. He only knew of one airborne creature that large, and he couldn't imagine what one of them would want with this conflict.

But then the last of the clouds faded away, and the sun shone down upon them. And gleamed red all along the creature, turning it into a soaring crimson streak. And Kurdran knew he had been right.

It was a dragon.

"Dragon!" he shouted. Most of his warriors were still battling the two—headed brutes, but young Murkhad glanced up and looked where Kurdran was pointing. Then the fool actually kicked his gryphon into a rapid ascent, the mount flaring her wings out to gain altitude.

"What are ye doing, ye halfwit?" Kurdran shouted, but if Murkhad heard he gave no reply. Instead the youthful Wildhammer turned his mount toward the dragon, which was now angled in a steep dive, and raised his stormhammer high. Giving a fierce yell, Murkhad charged straight for the plummeting lizard—and vanished without a sound as the dragon opened its mouth, revealing great triangular teeth the size of a large dwarf and a long forked tongue the color of blood, and consumed the hapless dwarf and his gryphon in a single snap.

Murkhad never even saw the sorrow evident in the dragon's enormous golden eyes, or the burly green—skinned figure perched on the dragon's back, long leather reins wrapped around one hand.

"By the Light!" Turalyon had cheered with the others when the Wildhammers had arrived, and when Kurdran felled the first two—headed ogre. But he had glanced up again at a faint cry from the Wildhammer leader, and had looked in time to see the fiery dragon descend upon one of the gryphon riders and swallow him like he was a sausage.

And now the dragon was descending upon them. And more were right behind it, streaks of crimson dropping from the sky.

The red dragons were not just the color of flame. Smoke curled from their nostrils and sparks shot from their mouths as they breathed, brighter even than the sunlight gleaming off their claws and along their wings and tails. The smoke and sparks increased as Turalyon stared.

And he suddenly realized what was about to happen.

"Pull back!" he shouted, slapping Khadgar's arm with his shield to get the mage's attention. "Have everyone pull back!" He waved his hammer overhead, hoping that would get both his own people and the elves' attention. "Pull back, everyone! Away from the forest! Now!"

"Away from the forest?" Alleria asked sharply, glancing up at him. He hadn't even realized she was still beside him, which showed how stunned he had been. "Why? We're winning!"

Turalyon started to explain, then realized there probably wasn't time. "Just do it!" he shouted, seeing the surprise on her face. "Tell your people to fall back toward the hills. Hurry!"

Something in his voice or expression convinced her, and she nodded, raising her bow and trying to signal the other elven warriors. Turalyon left her to it and turned away, grabbing the first Alliance officer he found and relaying his orders again. The officer nodded and started shouting and shoving, turning his troops around while bellowing for other officers to do the same.

There was nothing else Turalyon could do. He wheeled his own horse around and kicked it into a gallop, racing for the hills. Then he heard a strange sound, like a sudden burst of wind or a loud exhalation from a big man, and glanced over his shoulder.

The first dragon had swooped down, wings outspread, and opened its mouth wide. And from that mouth poured flames, great waves of flame that spread across the forest's front edge. The heat was intense, sapping every bit of moisture instantly, and the forest seemed to waver like a mirage in the sun's glare. Trees blackened in an instant, crumbling to ash despite being soaked minutes before, and smoke rose from them, thick black smoke that threatened to block out the sun again. The flames did not die, either—in some places they had licked trees farther back, not enough to destroy them completely but enough to ignite them, and now the flames were spreading, dancing from tree to tree. It was almost hypnotic, and Turalyon had to force himself to turn back around and watch where his horse was going. But soon he had reached the foothills and swung his mount back around, watching the horrible devastation.

"Do something!" Alleria yelled, appearing beside him again as he sat on his horse and squinted against the light and the heat. She pounded on his leg with her fists. "Do something!"

"There's nothing I can do," Turalyon pointed out, his heart breaking at the grief throbbing in her voice. "I wish there was!"

"Then you do something," the elven ranger demanded, turning to Khadgar as he rode up beside them. "Use your magic! Put out the flames!"

But the old—seeming mage shook his head sadly. "There's too much fire for me to combat it all," he explained softly. "And I've already drained myself for the day summoning that storm earlier." He said the last part bitterly, and Turalyon felt for his friend. It wasn't Khadgar's fault that he'd put out the first wave of fires only to have these far worse blazes appear now.