Commander Pinter Ch. 04

"Are you sure this is what Khadgar intended?" Pinter asked from the saddle of her silverback Talbuk.

Corneas sat high on his mount and stuck out his chest, the typical reaction Pinter had seen from the Night Elf whenever she or Mandala asked him something concerning the Archmage. "I speak only what the mage tells me," Corneas said. "If there's a possibility of aid, he reaches for it. You should know him by now, Commander."

"I don't like splitting up," Pinter said. "And I don't like strangers being short with me, regardless of who they work for."

"My apologies," Corneas said, although Pinter wondered how sorry the Night Elf really was. He was a rogue. Pinter hated rogues. Mandala had exhibited the same distaste in the town hall as Corneas briefed them on Khadgar's mission, glancing at Pinter from the corner of her blue-lit eyes. But Khadgar himself had spoken to them via a portal, and Pinter put her trust in the Archmage.

They were raiding Highmaul. They were to ride with Corneas into Nagrand, past the Broken Precipice, right up to the gates of the Walled City. There they would meet seven other Alliance adventurers, and they would penetrate the Ogre fortress and overthrow Imperator Mar'gok, the Sorcerer King, disrupting the Iron Horde's plans and denying Grammosh Hellscream of a powerful ally. It was a simple plan, but there was something in Corneas's eyes and in the way he acted when pressed for details. It was like he was hiding something. Pinter didn't like being in the dark.

And she definitely didn't like being treated like a child, which is how Corneas had treated her since they split up with Mandala. A rune stone bearing the Kirin Torr insignia had suddenly glowed in Corneas's pocket. It was Khadgar, or at least his voice. Apparently the water incarnations at the Throne of the Elements had agreed to provide a stamina orb to the raiding party. Mandala needed to head north while Pinter and Corneas continued west to the Walled City. The Draenei had narrowed her eyes at Corneas, and Pinter felt her friend's rising urge to turn her talbuk around and ride straight to Zangara to see Khadgar in the flesh. But they had split up. Now Mandala was alone somewhere, and Pinter and Corneas were on the road heading west.

"It is a beautiful day, though, Commander," Corneas said as the silence between them grew thicker than a clefthoof hide.

"Indeed," Pinter said. And it was a terrific day. Nagrand days were always a deep sapphire blue sky over rolling hills of lush, green grass. Pinter had seen nothing so beautiful since the Redridge Mountains of Azeroth. She breathed the clean air and let the day soothe her anxiety. It was probably nothing. Corneas obviously had the social skills of a basilisk. In Pinter's experience, rogues were either charismatic braggarts who talked so fast you were in bed with them before you remembered saying hello, or they were complete and utter drolls who were experts of their trade but inept at making friends. Neither was particularly desirable, but Corneas struck Pinter as the latter. At least he would be a valuable fighter when they were inside the Walled City.

"Have you spent much time in Nagrand?" Corneas asked.

"A little," Pinter said. "I helped Yrel build her watch post. And I raided Ironfist Harbor not too long ago with Mandala."

"Have you ever crossed paths with the Mok'Gol riders?" Corneas asked.

"No," Pinter said with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

"Curiosity," Corneas said. "They are expert wolf riders as I understand. If the Mok'Gul come and you are less than three, you are wise to leave the road and lower your head until they are out of sight. Or so I understand."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Pinter said. Her bow itched on her back, and she removed it, holding it loosely at her side, holding her talbuk reins in one hand.

"Of course as a rogue I can blend with my surroundings and no one will be the wiser that I am there," Corneas said. "So I have a bit of an advantage if our luck turns sour."

"Let's hope you don't have to," Pinter said.

Half a mile ahead there was a thick copse of trees, the wooded border of Ogre territory in Nagrand. The river flowed peacefully on their left with a small herd of elekk grazing lazily on the banks. If Corneas's company was all Pinter had to suffer between here and the Walled City then all the better. They entered the forest and were cast immediately in shade. Golden patches of sunlight glowed through the treetops, but the air cooled considerably as they rode deeper into the dark. Pinter drew her cloak around her arms as a chill overtook her.

A small shadow stumbled out of the trees on the side of the road. Pinter drew up her talbuk and raised her bow with an arrow aimed for the kill. "Who are you in the darkness?" Pinter demanded. "Identify yourself or taste my arrow."

"Easy, Commander," Corneas said, holding out his hand to calm Pinter. "This one is a friend. You are a friend, aren't you, Jeezelrod?"

Pinter lowered her bow as a Goblin came into view. The last time she saw a member of the Steamwheedle Preservation Society was when she came through here with Yrel, but she recognized the purple excavation uniform of their diggers. This little fellow was a far cry from the energetic Steamwheedle Goblins that dashed so comically about their headquarters here in Nagrand. Jeezelrod's ears drooped low, and his bald green head was dotted with a few liver spots. He grinned at Pinter and Corneas, revealing a smile replete with missing teeth. "I'm friendly enough," Jeezelrod said. "I heard you were coming and I thought I would offer you a drink. If that's okay with you, Commander Pinter."

"How do you know me?" Pinter asked, her bow still half ready.

"Anyone who is anyone in Nagrand knows Commander Pinter," Jeezelrod said. "If you travel my road, Commander Pinter, you are my guest."

"That's very nice of you," Corneas said as he dismounted his talbuk, much to Pinter's irritation. He clapped Jeezelrod on the back, the little Goblin coming up to the Night Elf's waist, and they walked to a picnic basket in the brush just off the road.

Did I say it was all right, Pinter thought, but she bit her tongue and dismounted, guiding the two mounts to the roadside. She joined the Night Elf and Goblin as Jeezelrod held out a cup full of wine. She accepted it only slightly reluctantly.

Pinter waited for Corneas to take a drink before she indulged. The wine bit sweetly on the edges of her tongue. Pinter swallowed and took another drink.

"Word has it you are raiding Highmaul," Jeezelrod said.

"Who told you?" Pinter asked.

"Word gets around in Nagrand," Jeezelrod said. "But I wouldn't worry. We keep to ourselves. Don't we, Corneas?"

Corneas downed the rest of his wine and held out his cup for a second helping. "Tight as a drum," he said.

"Don't overdo it," Pinter said as she sat down beside a large oak tree. "We still have a raid to complete."

"I fight better after a little indulgence," Corneas said.

"Just be ready," Pinter said. "Last thing I need is you wandering into a mob of Ogres before we're prepared." She had had enough of her wine and put down the cup.

"Did Khadgar say if the other raiders had arrived?" Corneas asked Jeezelrod.

"A few of them are there," the Goblin said. "I think the others are on their way. Probably waiting on news of our Commander and her friend, the Draenei. Everyone is pretty well split up."

"Shouldn't make much difference," Corneas said. "This will go off without a hitch."

"What will go off without a hitch?" Pinter asked. She looked, and she jumped to her feet.

Corneas and Jeezelrod were gone. Only the picnic basket remained. Pinter raised her bow, drew her arrow back, and knelt. She scanned the forest in a ring, her ears straining for any sign of her missing companions or any other danger that may be approaching. Everything was silent. The birds and insects had vanished, gone into hiding after sensing something terrible. It was close. Pinter sensed it, too. Her ears pounded like drums as she listened. Her heart stopped beating a while ago.

Faintly she heard it.

Wolves. Barking. And deep Orc voices. The Mok'Gul! Pinter's heart beat again. It raced as she realized the trap was closing around her fast. There wasn't time to mount up and flee. Not if she wanted to make it out of this in one piece.

Pinter dashed to the two talbuks and slapped their hindquarters, sending them galloping up the road and out of sight. The sound of wolves and Orcs grew louder, just around the bend now. Pinter leapt into the brush and slid, letting the wiry bushes blanket her and conceal her. She laid flat on her stomach, and she held her breath as at least twenty Orcs on wolf-back rode up and stopped in the road.

"This is the place," a gruff, authoritarian voice said. "The Goblin's basket is here."

Damn! She had forgotten the bloody picnic basket.

The Orcs dismounted. "Sweep the forest," the leader said from atop his wolf. "She can't be far."

"There are hoof prints leading up the road," a younger Orc voice said. "Should we follow them?"

"She's here, you fool," the leader said. "Now search these woods before I turn you into a rug for my wife."

Pinter slipped quietly away as the Orcs spread out and advanced on the forest. She felt out her surroundings, mapping out every bush and branch with heightened senses that wailed like sirens in her ears. Pinter was a breeze, a wisp of a thought, quiet and hidden. When she thought she was far enough away she turned on her knees and crouched, ready to dash on feather feet into the depths of the Nagrand forest.

A wide wooden club spiked with eight sharp wolf teeth greeted her, right in her face. Pinter froze. "Hello, deary," said an Orc dressed in a wolf hide, grinning down at Pinter through the long fangs on his lower jaw. "So nice to meet you."

The Orc pulled back his club, and in the moment before he rammed it into Pinter's face just one thought flashed in her mind. Oh, Mandala.

And the world went dark.

* * *

The talbuk snorted and stomped on the sandy road. Mandala shushed quietly and scratched the animal's neck through the long, white hair. "Amir, tor," Mandala said soothingly in Draenei. "Amir."

Though she had to admit, she shared the beast's unease. She had parted ways with Pinter and Corneas about an hour ago. She was nearly at the Throne of the Elements, but Mandala's stomach was a knot. The day was beautiful, almost too beautiful. The sky was completely cloudless as the day drifted past noon, and there was hardly any breeze for being so far north in Nagrand. Mandala had traveled this road before when the joint Alliance and Horde forces had carved a foothold. She had been to the Throne of the Elements and spoken with the elementals. If aid truly waited for the party it would be a great help. But Mandala grew increasingly agitated as she rode along the sandy road.

The day was so calm! She wondered where Pinter and Corneas were, if they were nearly to the gates of the Walled City. She would have to purchase a rylak flight if she wanted to catch up by sunset. Their raid wouldn't begin until dusk at this rate.

Mandala worried for her friend, and it wasn't just the lingering effects of what they shared the previous night. Memories of their lovemaking were still fresh in Mandala's mind, Pinter's creamy skin in her hands, her soft breasts pressed against her own as they writhed on each other's legs and came together one last time before they surrendered to sweet exhaustion. But Pinter was Mandala's friend, and she didn't let her feelings get away from her. Her offer to Pinter would always stand, and she rather hoped Pinter would take her up on another night of fucking, but it was all in fun. Pinter was her friend. Mandala, though, treated all of her friends like family. And if Mandala's family was in trouble, she worried. Mandala worried for Pinter.

Why would Khadgar order such a move so late when they were already in the heart of Nagrand? It didn't make sense. Still, if this is what he desired, Mandala would execute if it meant an advantage for the raiding party. This battle would be worthy of the Exarchs no matter how it turned out. She wouldn't miss it for the world.

Two oddly shaped trees hanged across the road in an arc. Mandala slowed her talbuk and put her handon her sword hilt. She remembered every landmark on this road, and these trees didn't belong here. Nagrand trees had sheer bark, bright brown, almost the same shade as the fiery fields of grass that flowed on endlessly. These trees had dark brown bark and with the texture of twisted vines. These trees definitely were not here when she came this way over a month ago. She stopped her talbuk. "Show yourselves," Mandala said. "Whatever you are."

The trees wrapped up like hydra necks. Mandala jumped down from her talbuk and slapped its rear, sending it running away and out of danger. She crouched with her great sword and axe shield ready to fight as the trees transformed, metamorphosed into humanoid forms. Two towering men made of plants stood before her, their hands open with glowing light, spells in the infancy of preparation. A third man came spinning up from the grass itself and landed between the two. All three of them had hawkish faces, and their eyes were shimmering jade in the sunlight. The third man pointed at Mandala. "By the tangles of the Everbloom," he said in a deep, earthy voice, "prepare to meet your end."

"Three against one," Mandala said with a shrug. "Fair enough."

She threw her shield.

* * *

Voices in the darkness. Orc voices.

"If these are the best Khadgar has to offer I say we strike now. What chance will the mage have against the full might of the Iron Horde?"

"These are only a few. There will be more, and we still don't know where in Talador Khadgar is hiding. Guldan has yet to see him."

"So we burn Talador to the ground!"

"Calm yourself, Blackhand."

Blackhand? Pinter opened her eyes.

She was lying on the floor of a large cage. In a room, some kind of wooden hut. Her hazy vision cleared, and she counted four Orcs sitting in a ring around a hulk of a warrior in the middle. Grammosh Hellscream. Pinter kept quiet and held her breath. This was a veritable conference of every Iron Horde leader in Draenor. She saw Blackhand, alive and well sitting against the far wall, his shoulder bandaged where Yrel chopped him with Gurotan's axe, his eyes just as fiery as ever. There was Kilrodd, who had routed the Azeroth vanguard in Tanaan Jungle. Kargath of the Shattered Hand sat quietly brooding, his right hand replaced with a long serrated sword blade, a hook in his left hand. All along the wall stood Orcs dressed in heavy animal hides, the regalia of the Mok'Gul clan of Nagrand. So she was still in Nagrand, probably in the Mok'Gul camp. And she was still alive. That was key.

The door to the hut stood open on the clear day, and a rush of cool breeze poured through the room. Pinter's skin chilled to goose bumps. She was nearly nude, only dressed in her panties. Thanks for my dignity, she thought. She held still as the meeting progressed.

"You put too much faith in the Ogres," Blackhand said. "And in these Mok'Gul. We should end this incursion ourselves."

"We have bigger problems ahead," Grammosh said. "But we have their Commander. So easily taken, and we have more agents planted in their ranks, both Alliance and Horde. We have the upper hand, and we will be ready."

"What about Yrel?" Kargath said. "Her watch post is still a stain in this territory."

Blackhand grumbled at the heroine's name.

"It will be gone once we deal with these raiders," Grammosh said. "I will personally lead the charge."

"And I can have her head," Blackhand said.

"Yes," Grammosh said. The Orcs in the room all sniggered. "But first things first, we deal with these raiders. They will be easy prey without their Commander and her paladin friend."

The Orcs stood with the meeting adjourned. "What should we do with her, Hellscream, sir?" the Mok'Gul chieftain from the road asked.

"I understand your shaman, Talguk, has an anaconda that hasn't eaten in some time," Grammosh said. "Find out what the little girl knows. Then she can satisfy the beast's hunger for a few more weeks."

"Ultur," the chieftain said. A young Orc by Pinter's reckoning stood to attention next to the cage. "Stay here and interrogate her. Then come get us. Should be a bit of fun."

The Orcs filed out. Pinter watched the four Iron Horde leaders leave. Amazing to see them all in one room, but she went back to what Grammosh had said.

Their Commander and her paladin friend. Mandala was in trouble, too. She had to get out of here. She had to, for Mandala.

Only one Orc remained, the one they called Ultur. He was bright green, his head bald, but two bushy red sideburns adorned the sides of Ultur's face, along his cheeks, down to his chin. He closed the door of the hut, and he walked to the cage with heavy footsteps. Pinter feigned unconsciousness as he undid the latch and swung open the door. "Wake up, Human!" he shouted.

Pinter pretended to jerk awake. She scrambled to the back of the cage, but Ultur grabbed her arm with his enormous hand. He hauled her out into the open. She landed hard on her stomach, but she kept her wind. Pinter swept around and found him lumbering above her. "Please," Pinter begged, putting on her best act. "I'll do anything. Don't hurt me."

"You're going to talk," Ultur said. "You will tell me where Khadgar is. And then you will be snake food. Nothing else will happen here, girl."

Pinter took quick, panicky breaths as she scanned the room. The only weapon was a long knife sheathed on Ultur's waist. She had to get it. "I don't know where he is," Pinter said. "He only teleports me."

Ultur played with the handle of his knife and towered over her. "You know a snake doesn't care how pretty his prey is," he said. "Or how many fingers she has."

"I mean it," Pinter said. "I don't know where he is in Talador. But, I see things."

Ultur cocked his head, keeping his heavy gaze on her. If she weren't already thinking three steps ahead Pinter might have been terrified by the young Mok'Gul Orc. "What do you mean?" Ultur asked.

"I mean there are landmarks," Pinter said, taking Ultur's hesitation as her chance. She drew back in a better sitting position, better to display her mostly naked body. She spread her legs wide.

Ultur glanced down at Pinter's crotch. She flicked her hair, just for added affect. "Maybe if I saw them again?" Pinter said.

Ultur snorted. "Not a chance," he said.

"Well," Pinter said, and she trailed her fingers down her breasts, "maybe if I had a little help I could remember. You know, I'm so distraught over what happened today. Such a shock, and I wasn't ready for how violently you Orcs took me."

Pinter locked in on Ultur's eyes. She pet herself, stroked her belly, slipped her fingers inside her panties. Pinter moaned to herself as she poked in her pussy, moistening her fingers. Her nipples went erect. She was arousing herself, but she threw herself into her act.

Ultur said nothing. He stayed still in Pinter's eyes, hypnotized by her. The young Orc licked his lips, and he swallowed. The heavy loincloth on his hips began to bulge. "What kind of help would you need?" he asked.

Pinter got up on her knees and moved closer to Ultur. "You know I just love how big you Orcs are," Pinter said. "I've never been so close to one."

Pinter ran her hands on Ultur's exposed belly, his ripped abdomen. He was stout and powerful, and Pinter's blood flared as she felt his muscles. Something inside her called out for it, and although his knife was right there Pinter couldn't resist. She undid Ultur's belt, and then the Orc stood there naked from the waist down.