"My people!" he shouted, raising his hammer high above him. "Hear me!" The crowd quieted, every face turning toward him. "We have taken this land, and it is good!" A cheer erupted, and Doomhammer waited for it to die down before speaking again. "This world is rich with life, and we can raise strong families here!" Another cheer. "Yet it is not without its defenders! The humans are strong and skilled, and fight hard to retain what was theirs." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Horde. There was no weakness in acknowledging a powerful foe, and the humans were certainly that. Enough orcs had fought them now to agree.
"We must continue our conquest!" Doomhammer told his people, gesturing to the north with his hammer. "Another land, Lordaeron, lies beyond this one, and once we control it our clans may claim territories, settle, craft homes, and raise families again. But first we must take it from the humans! And they will not surrender it lightly." The crowd growled as one, showing its willingness to fight on. Doomhammer quieted them with a raised hand.
"I know that you are strong," he assured them. "I know that you are warriors, and will not falter in battle. But the humans are many, and this time they will be ready for us." He leaned on his hammer. "But they will not be ready for our allies."
He gestured behind him, and Zul'jin stepped forward. The forest troll leader had brought a hundred of his people for this meeting, and they stood now arrayed behind him and Doomhammer, hefting their axes and short, curved swords and wicked broad—bladed spears. "These are the forest trolls," Doomhammer told the orcs below. "They are now part of the Horde, and will fight alongside us! They are as mighty as an ogre but as crafty as an orc, and in woodcraft they are unsurpassed! They will be our guides, our scouts, and our forest warriors!"
Zul'jin stepped forward, his long scarf waving in the wind. "We have pledged to the Horde," he declared, his voice carrying clearly despite the fabric covering his mouth. "We be fightin' with you, and together we be crushin' the humans, the elves, an' any others who stand against us!" The orcs cheered, as did the forest trolls, and Zul'jin nodded before stepping back.
"Nor are they our only allies," Doomhammer announced. He turned, and Gorefiend strode forward, the other death knights beside him. They had masked themselves to conceal their hideous features, with heavy cloth wrapped around their heads and faces so that only their glowing eyes were visible. But the Horde could see the breadth of their shoulders and the width of their chests, and Gorefiend raised his truncheon high, the weapon's jewels flaring into a brightness that rivaled the sun overhead.
"We are the death knights," Gorefiend intoned, his strange voice casting the words across the crowd like a chill over the land. "We have pledged ourselves to the Horde, and to Doomhammer. We will fight as one of you, and will drive the orcs' foes from this world!" He had requested that Doomhammer not reveal their true nature to the other orcs, and Doomhammer had agreed. Many might not be happy to learn these new warriors were orcs themselves, former warlocks he had slaughtered and Gul'dan had then trapped within rotting human bodies.
"The death knights will be our cavalry and our vanguard," Doomhammer announced. "They are strong and swift and possess a dark magic to strip away our foes' defenses."
He paused. "We may have other allies soon as well," he admitted. He had hoped those would be ready as well, but Zuluhed had said his clan needed more time to finish the preparations. Still, this was enough for now.
"We march north," Doomhammer told his people. "Across this land and into Khaz Modan, the home of the dwarves. Those lands are rich with metals and with fuel. We shall take those resources and use them to build a mighty fleet of ships. With those ships our forces will sail north to Lordaeron, for the humans will not expect us by water. We shall land to the west and march back, catching them from behind. We will crush them, and then we shall rule that land and all this world as our own!"
The Horde cheered again, a cheer that grew and grew until it echoed from the rocks around them. Doomhammer felt the echo beneath his feet, shaking the very peak, and glanced back at Zuluhed, who stood behind him. His people's shouts and war cries should not have been able to disturb the mountain itself! But the old shaman nodded.
"The volcano speaks," Zuluhed said softly, stepping forward so that only Doomhammer could hear his words. "The spirits within the mountain are pleased." He grinned, bearing his worn tusks. "They grant us their blessing!"
Doomhammer nodded. The rocks still trembled as he raised his hammer high again, swinging it about over his head. The crowd began chanting his name.
"Doomhammer!" They shouted, and a loud boom followed their cry. The sky itself turned dark.
"Doomhammer!" They shouted again, and the air turned thick.
"Doomhammer!" They bellowed a third time, and with a loud crack the mountain behind them exploded, lava and rock spewing forth. The Horde's shouts increased, and not out of fear. They, like Zuluhed, saw this as a blessing, the earth itself approving their actions.
Doomhammer allowed the tumult to continue for a moment, accepting this sign of respect and loyalty and building his people's fervor to even greater heights. Then he pointed north with his weapon. "We march!" he bellowed. "And let the humans tremble at our approach!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Tell us everything."
Khadgar nodded, not bothering to look around. It would be pointless. He had been summoned before the ruling council of the Kirin Tor and those leaders were only visible when they wished to be.
He had stood in this council chamber once before, upon being told he was to be apprenticed to Medivh. Then he had been awed by the room, which seemed to somehow hang in the air, only the floor faintly visible as the world around darkened, lightened, and stormed far more rapidly that ever happened in nature. The council members themselves had awed him just as much, appearing only as cloaked, hooded figures, their forms and faces and very genders obscured by both cloth and magic. That was both dramatic and practical, since the wizard community's leaders were chosen in secret to avoid any danger of bribery, blackmail, and other pressure. The council members knew each other's identities but no one else did. The disguises ensured that. But they also gave the council an air of mystery, and many of its members delighted in the confusion, making sure no one entered or exited the chamber without being bewildered as to where they had been and whom they had seen and often even what they had said and heard. It had certainly worked on Khadgar back then, and he had left the chamber with his head awhirl, amazed at the power his superiors wielded and unable to recount exactly what had happened during his audience.
Much had changed since then, however. Though it had been only a few short years, Khadgar had grown considerably in both knowledge and power. His appearance had changed as well, and he amused himself by thinking that for once some of the council members would be as bewildered by their visitor as he was by them. After all, he had left a young man and returned an old one, older than many of them though he had lived far less.
Regardless, Khadgar found he was unwilling to play games. He was tired. He had teleported himself to Dalaran, and while his magic was strong enough to handle the task it was still a daunting distance. Plus he had been up late discussing matters with Lothar, planning for their first official strategy session next week. Khadgar appreciated his former masters' interest in recent events, and felt they needed to know what had occurred in Azeroth, but he felt he could do without the posturing and the performances and the shadow—plays.