"Besides," Aegwynn said, "even if you had the means to destroy or banish Zmodlor, you couldn't do it. You're in his thrall."

"That's absurd!" Kristoff sounded even more nervous now. "Ours is simply an alliance of convenience, and once the orcs are gone—"

"The orcs are our allies, Kristoff!" Lightning seemed to crackle around her golden hair, and a small breeze seemed to materialize at her ankles, billowing the lady's white cloak. "That alliance was forged in blood. And the demons are the enemies of everything that lives. How could you betray us—betray me—like that?"

Kristoff was sweating profusely now. "I swear to you, milady, it is not a betrayal. I was simply doing what was best for Theramore! The Burning Blade is simply a cult of warlocks under Zmodlor's direction that are bringing out the natural hostility toward orcs. They're doing nothing but abetting what's already there!"

"What about the orcs who are members?" Lorena asked.

"What?" Kristoff sounded confused.

"The orcs who attacked me and my troops at Northwatch, they were part of the Burning Blade—and they were orcs. How do they fit in?"

"I—" Kristoff seemed to be at a loss.

Lady Proudmoore angrily shook her head. "How many, Kristoff? How many will die to provide your perfect orc—free world?"

Now Kristoff seemed to be on surer ground. "Far fewer than if we wait until Thrall dies and the orcs revert to type. This was the only—"

"Enough!" Now the breeze kicked into high gear, and lightning shot out from the lady's fingertips.

Kristoff screamed a second later, clutching his left shoulder. Smoke started to wisp out from it between his fingers.

Instinctively, Lorena ran to Kristoff and ripped away the cloth of his shirt.

There was a tattoo on his shoulder blade of a sword on fire, identical to the ones Lorena, Strov, Clai, Jalod, and the others saw on the orcs they fought at Northwatch. The tattoo was now burning.

A second later, the tattoo was gone, leaving only charred flesh in its wake. Kristoff collapsed to the floor like a sack of suet, his eyes fluttering.

In a quiet voice, Aegwynn said, "Zmodlor's gone."

"Yes." Lady Proudmoore sounded calmer now. "And my casting that exorcism spell likely alerted him to the fact that we're on to him."

"'M sorry…"

Lorena knelt down at Kristoff's side. His words were barely a whisper.

"Thought…what I did… of own free will… but Zmodlor… controlled… everything. So… sorry… sorry…"

The light faded from his eyes.

All three women stood in silence for several seconds.

The sad thing to Lorena was that Kristoff hadn't been a bad person, truly. He had done what he thought best for Theramore. He had been doing his duty. Of course, he had done it spectacularly badly, but his heart had been in the right place. That, in turn, made her feel guilty. There had been times when she wished Kristoff dead, but now that he was dead, she felt sad.

She looked at Lady Proudmoore. "We have to get to Northwatch. If we're lucky, the war won't have started yet, and maybe we can get the troops to stand down. You've got to do it in person, though, milady—Major Davin won't take orders from anyone else."

Lady Proudmoore nodded. "You're right. I'll—"

"No."

That was Aegwynn. The lady gazed at her coolly. "I beg your pardon?"

"There's magic afoot here, Lady Proudmoore, and you're the only person in Kalimdor who can stop it. Your erstwhile chamberlain was right about one thing—Zmodlor is a minor demon. He was a sycophant of Sargeras's. He doesn't have the power to influence so many people—or to raze a forest and teleport the trees, if it comes to that. Those warlocks Kristoff mentioned are the source of all this—they're acting in Zmodlor's name, probably in exchange for rare scrolls or some other such thing." She shook her head. "Warlocks go after spells like an addict to a poppy plant. It's revolting."

"We don't have time to go on a hunt for a group of warlocks," Lorena said.

"Those warlocks are the source of all this, Colonel," Aegwynn said.

Lorena looked at Lady Proudmoore. "For all we know, milady, the fighting has already started. If it hasn't, it may at any second, if Kristoff was right about those orc and troll troops heading down. Once the fighting starts, it won't matter who or what caused it—there will be bloodshed, and once that line is crossed, the alliance will be permanently sundered."

Aegwynn also regarded the lady. "Time is of the essence. You said yourself that Zmodlor knows that you're on to him. We have to strike now, before he has a chance to form a strategy against you. And you can't be in two places at once."

Then the lady smiled. It was a radiant smile, one that Lorena took as something of a relief after the anger she had displayed toward Kristoff. "I don't need to be in two places at once." She walked to the entryway of her chambers. Lorena and Aegwynn exchanged confused glances, and then followed.

When they walked in, they saw Lady Proudmoore rummaging through the scrolls on her desk, before finally saying, "Aha!"

She turned around and held up a rock that was carved into an intricate shape. Then it started to glow…

Sir, the orcs, they've set up camp."

Major Davin started ripping out tufts of his beard, dress code be damned. "How many?"

Shrugging, Corporal Rych said, "Impossible to be sayin' for sure, sir."

Davin closed his eyes and counted to five. "Take a guess."

Another shrug. "Lookout, he be sayin' there's at least six hundred, sir—but hard to say for sure, sir. They be stayin' far enough back that they ain't violatin' no borders or nothin', but—"

At Rych's hesitation, Davin sighed and prompted him. "But what?"

"Well, sir, right now they just be sittin' there, but I don't think that'll be lastin', sir. 'Specially once those boats arrive."

Again, Davin sighed. It seemed that sighing was all he did these days. Dozens of boats carrying orcs and trolls alike were seen heading south on the Great Sea a day ago, heading right for Northwatch. They'd arrive within a couple of hours.

At that point, Davin would have a decision to make.

His instructions from Chamberlain Kristoff—who, with Lady Proudmoore compromised by these Burning Blade people, was in charge—were to hold Northwatch "no matter what."

Davin had no idea how he was supposed to do that.

He hadn't even wanted to be a soldier. True, he had an aptitude for violence that made him very attractive to the recruiter who came to his village as a boy, but he was also a tremendous physical coward. He managed to fake it through training, mostly by virtue of never actually being in danger. If it was just playacting, Davin had no difficulties at all. Use his sword on a straw dummy? No problem. But real combat against a flesh—and—blood foe? Then he was hopeless.

So the first time he had faced off against a person, he had thought he'd be doomed. But he had lucked out by being part of a particularly talented platoon. Davin had done little when he had faced off against the renegade dwarves who had come to his village to try to escape dwarven justice after a failed attempt to overthrow the existing government. But the rest of his platoon had done quite well, capturing or killing all the dwarves. Davin had been able to bask in the reflected glory of his comrades.

Then the Burning Legion had come.

It had been awful. People had died all around him. Lordaeron had been destroyed. Humans and orcs had fought side by side. The entire world had turned upside down. Davin had never understood why Lady Proudmoore had chosen to ally with the orcs—they were devils, not significantly better than the demons themselves—but nobody had asked Davin his advice.

The worst day had been in some forest somewhere. Davin hadn't even known where it was, only that he was there with the tattered remains of his platoon, and they were trying to find a demon stronghold so some wizard or other could learn its secrets. Davin's job was simple: protect the wizard. Everyone else was seeking out the stronghold.