Chapter 17

Touch Down

What a difference it was, Northrend. Its banks were covered in perpetual winter and its winds were forever colder than a witch's bosom; even so, the Land of the Dead was remarkably cheerful. The skies were blue and birds sang, untouched by the Lich King's long reach. As the Tide Strider pulled alongside the docks, Stefan felt his heart leap with a mixture of joy and anticipation. He glanced at the others, and knew they were just as excited to be taking their first steps onto Northrend, the domain of Arthas, the Lich King.

Stefan was trying to catch the tune the songbirds were chirping, imagining it to be an old tavern song. As he helped lug the heavy crates of supplies to the dock, he gave up trying to decipher the birds' language, settling with enjoying the mystery of their sporradic whistling.

"We've got company," said Mae. She was standing at the threshold, where dock and land met in a jumble of nails and planks. He came up beside her, shielding his eyes from the sun as he peered across the frozen landscape. Not too far off, tendrils of smoke were rising from a settlement concealed behind rolling hills of snow. Braving said hills was a tight-knit troupe of figures, coming towards them.

"You're right," Stefan agreed. "Hostile?"

"If my suspicions are correct, they won't be anymore hostile than a cat," assured Mae. She began rummaging in a pouch she had slung to her side. All the while, the mysterious newcomers were drawing nearer. As they drew closer, Stefan was able to discern detail of their visitors. Green skin, corded muscle, saber-toothed wolves. As the distance between them diminished further, he saw the giant cleavers and axes strapped on their backs and hips.

"Does this particular cat hail from the wilds of Winterspring, Mae?" he joked.

She laughed. "Don't worry, Stefan. I have my own way of culling the Orcish hostility."

There were eight of them. Orc warriors packed from head to toe with muscle, riding atop some of the most vicious-looking wolves Stefan had ever laid eyes upon. He looked first at the giant, two-handed axe riding on the back of one of the Orcs, then to his own maces. Toothpicks to a meat cleaver. Stefan could smell the sweat and grime that covered the Greenskins as they formed a wall in front of him and the others. Molgoby, who seemed unperturbed by their visitors, shook his head in a sneer as he too noticed the smell. The others didn't even flinch; they were deathly afraid.

Stefan's heart leapt when out of the blue, Mae stepped out of the trance and walked right up to the biggest Orc, staring his wolf in the muzzle. It salivated in reply.

"State your business," growled the Orc in semi-fluent Common.

Mae pulled a rolled up parchment from her pouch and held it out for the Orc to examine. As the meat-head took the paper from her, Mae began to speak. "My colleagues and I have been sent as representatives of the Explorer's League. We are here to conduct important studies in Northrend that will prove detrimental to the efforts of both the Alliance and Horde if they are not completed. We have been given diplomatic immunity and private conference with the Horde leader here in the Borean Tundra, Garrosh Hellscream. We seek that conference now, in Warsong Hold."

Stefan's jaw hung slackly as he watched Mae motor-mouth the Orc into submission. He clamped it shut when the giant greenskin closed up the parchment, leered at them for a moment, then nodded.

"Your papers seem to be in order. We shall escort you back to Warsong Hold," said the Orc, muttering a command to his comrades.

He turned to leave, pausing to speak again as if in afterthought. "Welcome to Northrend."

As the Orcs moved on to form a spearhead for the travelers, Stefan came up next to Mae, asking to see the papers she had shown the Orc. She handed them to him, with a little hesitation. He unrolled the parchment, looking over the Dwarven text in hopes of uncovering some of its meaning. Though he couldn't read it, the hammer and anvil symbol in the bottom left corner was unmistakable.

It was a Dwarven smith's advertisement, and judging by the bold lettering, he was having a blow-out sale. But the look in Mae's eyes told him she had an ace up her sleave, and the dangerous trick she pulled was not completely reckless. He hoped she knew her cards.