The duel between Turalyon and Varian and the orcs ended as Galen watched their battered armor and ragged breathing. He'd meant to leave the dying Orc Overseer for them, but seeing how spent they were, he refrained from pushing further. The Overseer's own guards lay dead at his feet, and despair darkened his feral features.
"Lok'tar ogar!" the orc roared, hefting his battle-axe and charging Galen with suicidal fury. Galen, a veteran of the old Warcraft tales, knew the cry: victory or death. As noble as that resolve might be, these were the enemies who'd razed a village and butchered civilians. He would show no mercy.
Turalyon and Varian looked up at the commotion just as Galen vaulted forward. His longsword, Tokaral, sliced a clean arc across the Overseer's throat. Blood sprayed like a ruptured pipe. The orc staggered, clutched his wound, then crumpled to the ground. The seventh-tier peak warrior was finished—his soul wasn't worth harvesting at the Altar of Kings.
Galen knelt beside his comrades, inspecting their wounds. Turalyon and Varian were bruised and dented but unbowed—Varian's chestplate even bore a hairline scratch that might've been fatal.
"How do you feel?" Galen asked.
"I'm all right," Turalyon replied.
"Strong foe," Varian admitted, rubbing his side. "Nearly got me."
Galen nodded. "Many orcs of that caliber are inthe Horde. Stay sharp."
Together, the three swept the remaining orcs from the village. Soon the troops regrouped and Gran Village lay clear. Galen first rode west, found only a small diversionary force, and left a hundred knights to contain them. Then he urged his mount eastward to join Danath and Gavinrad.
Half an hour earlier, the militia there had been on the verge of collapse—orc warbands were pouring past the barricades and into the streets. Then Danath and Gavinrad's knights had thundered in, rallied the defenders, and stabilized the line. Their heavy armor and veteran skill began to drive the orcs back.
When Galen arrived, the two generals were cutting a swath through the enemy. Danath, ten years' veteran of the Troll Wars, and Gavinrad, of Lothar's Iron Horse Brotherhood, had the feral invaders on the ropes. Galen scanned the battlefield: roughly a thousand orcs advanced behind a banner of a bleeding eye—the Bleeding Hollow Clan, Tanaan's closest allies to the Dark Portal. Their overseer had to be either Kilrogg Deadeye or Jorin.
"No time to waste," Galen shouted. "Follow me!" He spurred his warhorse forward, Turalyon and Varian at his flank, a hundred knights roaring behind them. The shock of steel and hooves smashed through the orc pickets, sending green warriors flying in every direction.
Galen led the charge straight for the clan's banner, knowing the commander would be nearby. A handful of orcs raised massive shields to block them. Galen parried a hurled javelin with his longsword, then called upon Holy Light, igniting avenging wings upon his back. He swapped to a one-handed hammer, drew his shield, and at five meters hurled it with all his strength.
Shield of the Avenger!
It careened between shields and helmets, cleaving several orcs and then boomeranging back into his grasp as though drawn by fate. The impact—fueled by a ninth level power and Avenging Wrath—sent half a dozen orcs to their knees in a spray of blood. A gap yawned in their shield wall, and Galen charged in to finish the fight.