All they had to do was take it from what Fenris was absolutely sure was a demon.
"You will not pass," the creature hissed, its voice rolling over them in oily waves. "This tomb has already been defiled by mortals once! It shall not happen again!"
"We don't want to pass," Fenris replied, biting back the fear and bile that leaped up his throat. "We just want that scepter you're waving about."
The demon laughed, a low chuckle like bone grating on bone, and stepped forward, its long clawed feet digging deep furrows into the marble floor. "Then you may try to take it from me," it offered. “And after you fail, I will shred your bodies and sup upon your souls."
"I'll crack your bones with my teeth and drink out the marrow!" Tagar bellowed back at the demon — this was the kind of language he understood. Then he charged, his axe held high.
And, though he cursed Tagar for a fool and himself for a worse one, Fenris raised his own weapon and leaped into the fray beside his fellow chieftain. The other thirty or so Thunderlord and Bonechewer warriors were right behind them.
Even so, it was a difficult battle. The demon was strong, stronger than any one of them by far, and faster as well. Its long claws cleft skin and bone and muscle with ease, tearing through the orcs as if they were dried leaves. The scepter it held was heavy enough to crush an orcs skull without taking a dent. Even the demon's tail was a weapon. Tagar shrieked in outrage as the creature struck one of the Bonechewers with it. The long barb at the end went easily through the hapless orc’s chest and emerged, dripping blood, from his back.
But the worst, the most frightening attack it possessed, was its bite — that unbelievable mouth stretched wider than should have physically been possible, exposing row upon row of teeth. Fenris watched the demon bite off half a warrior's head, and even through his own battle rage he felt sick.
It was that battle rage that saved them. Under normal circumstances Fenris disapproved of the bloodlust, but now it was a boon. Without it, many of the orcs — including himself — would have run away in abject terror. But with their heads pounding and their vision blurring and their blood humming, they attacked and continued to attack. Yes, the demon was faster, but with so many warriors attacking on each new assault, a few hits got through. The demon was stronger, but severing its limbs still crippled it.
At the last, with the demon's tail and one arm and part of a leg gone, and the other arm so shattered it writhed like a snake, Fenris and Tagar struck as one, their axes slicing into its thick neck. The blows came from opposite sides, delivered with all the force their respective masters could muster, and both chieftains took thin cuts along their fingers where the other's blade had nicked. But the demon toppled to the ground, his neck cut clean through from both sides, the head landing at Ragnok's feet.
Fenris bent down and picked up the scepter. It was lighter than he had expected, but he could feel a faint thrum of power through it.
"We have what we were sent for," he said, turning back. "Let's go."
"What?" Surprisingly, it was Ragnok who protested. "But this is the Tomb of Sargeras! And you just killed its guardian!"
"That was one guardian," Fenris replied. "There will be others, you mark my words." He held the scepter up so it caught the light. "Fortunately, we don't have to go any deeper into this pit."
"You don't understand," Ragnok continued. He stepped up closer to Fenris. "We got the scepter; we should get the Eye of Sargeras as well. Do you remember when I was confused earlier? It was because I was sensing both artifacts! It took me a moment to realize what was going on. But I know exactly where the Eye of Sargeras is now — down that other corridor. That was the artifact Gul'dan sought, and now it's within our grasp!"
Ragnok's glowing eyes narrowed in fury. "Pitiful things. I could destroy you with a mere thought! You will come with me to retrieve the Eye or—"
"Or what?" Fenris spat. "Go ahead. Kill us where we stand, and go back alone for the Eye. Either way, we will be dead." He was mostly sure that the death knight was bluffing, but he stood by his decision. Ragnok might kill them in a fit of anger. But whatever was sure to be guarding the Eye would most definitely kill them.
Ragnok lilted his hands and tor a moment Fenris's heart stopped. But then the death knight sagged; he had been bluffing after all.
"You are fools," Ragnok growled, but his voice was laced with defeat.
"Maybe," Fenris agreed, "But we are fools who will live to see another day." Without another word he turned. His clan followed him, as did Tagar and his orcs. It was only with the smallest satisfaction that a few moments later, he noticed that Ragnok had again joined them.
"Do you have it?"
Fenris dismounted, sliding off the dragon's back and planting both feet solidly on the cracked ground, then met Gorefiend's stare as the death knight hurried toward them. The dragons had been waiting for the orcs when their boats had reached land again, and had quickly carried them back into the Blasted Lands to rejoin Gorefiend and the others.
"Yes, we have it," Fenris confirmed, holding up the long cloth-wrapped scepter. He handed it to Gorefiend, happy to be rid of it. "What now?"
"Now we make haste back through the portal," Gorefiend answered. Fenris suppressed a shudder as Gorefiend's hands closed about the bundle protectively. "Our tasks here are finished. Azeroth is no longer important to us. We'll leave this world to the humans and their allies, and good riddance."
Fenris started to ask for more detail, but a loud rumbling stopped him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw several large carts rolling into the valley, orcs guiding each one. Remembering the discussion back in the Blackrock Mountains, he realized those must contain the cargo Deathwing had asked them to allow through the portal. He wondered idly what could be so important the black dragon wanted it moved to another world, but resigned himself to likely never knowing.
Another orc, though, was more curious than Fenris. He started to approach one of the carts. Before Fenris could even draw breath to shout out a warning, a dark shape swooped from the skies. The orc screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching at his face. Blood dripped from between his fingers.
'Get back!" Fenris cried. "Stay away from the carts!"
The dragons that had borne the orcs here now took to the skies to defend the cargo, some of them not waiting to make sure their riders had completely dismounted.
"Goreflend!" came a voice Fenris recognized. That scream could belong to no one other than the Warsong chieftain. Grom Hellscream had clearly been with the forces harassing the Alliance troops at Nethergarde Keep and had just returned with them. He was still halfway across the valley, but they heard him clearly. “Did you bring these creatures?"
"I did!" Gorefiend replied, not raising his voice but his words carrying nonetheless. "The black dragons are our new allies!"
Grom ducked as a black dragon's claws slid by dangerously close to his head, and scowled. "Some allies!" he shouted. "Do something about your winged friends before they cause a panic — or kill us all!'"
The death knight glanced up at the dragons, studying them a moment. Then he nodded. "Deathwing!" he called. "I swear to you that I will defend those carts and their cargo! Please pull your dragons back to the valley's edge!"
Fenris couldn't pick the dragon elder out among all the shifting, gliding shapes, but a moment later the dragons wheeled and made for perches along the cliffs ringing the valley floor.
"Better," Grom grunted, approaching them. He nodded at Fenris, who nodded back — the two of them had always gotten along. Fenris considered Grom one of the finest chieftains in the Horde, and a superb warrior as well.