Kurdran frowned and tugged at his moustache. "You say they be out to conquer all the land?" Lothar nodded. "And they came in great black iron boats?" Another nod. "Then they have been through Khaz Modan," he decided, shaking his head. "We've not heard from our kin in Ironforge for many weeks. I had wondered why. This explains it."
"They conquered the mines and used the iron ore to make those ships," the wizard said.
"Aye." Kurdran bared his teeth. "We Wildhammers have had many quarrels with the Bronzebeard clan over the years—it is why me people left Khaz Modan at all. But still they are our cousins, our kin. And these foul creatures, this Horde, attacked them. And now it has attacked us. Only your timely aid saved us from suffering our cousins' fate." He pounded his fist on the arm of his chair. "Aye, we will join you! We must be striking back at these orcs, until this Horde canna threaten anyone!" He stood and extended his hand. "Ye have the Wildhammers' aid."
Lothar stood as well, and gravely accepted the clasp. "Thank you," was all he said, but it was enough.
"At least we have driven them from the Hinterlands," the clean—faced youth pointed out. "Your home is safe."
"That it is," Kurdran agreed. "For now. But where will these orcs be going next? Will they turn back toward the Hillsbrad? Or up toward Capital City? Or be heading north to join the rest o' their foul kin?"
Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to say, for suddenly his new allies were all leaping to their feet. "What did you say?" the elven lass demanded. "About the north?"
"That they might join the rest o' their kind?" Kurdran asked, puzzled. She nodded quickly and he shrugged. "My scouts say we saw but a fraction of this Horde here. The rest turned north, skirting our forests, and continued on toward the mountains." He studied their faces. "Ye didna know this?"
The clean—faced youth and the mage were shaking their heads, but already the older warrior was cursing. "It was a feint!" he said, almost spitting the words. "And we fell for it!"
"A feint?" Kurdran frowned. "Me home was at risk! This was no mere ploy!"
But this Lothar shook his head. "No, the threat was real," he agreed. "But whoever commands the Horde is smart. He knew we would step in to aid you here. He took the rest of his forces north, and left a portion to slow us down. Now he's got distance on us."
"And he's heading for Quel'Thalas!" the elven lass cried. "We have to warn them!"
Lothar nodded. "We'll rally the troops at once and set off again. If we move fast—"
But the lass cut him off. "There's no time!" she insisted. "You said yourself the Horde has distance on us. We've lost days already! And gathering the troops will only slow us down further." She shook her head. "I'll go myself."
"No." The voice was quiet but the tone brooked no resistance. "You'll not go alone," Lothar told her, ignoring her glare. "Turalyon, take the rest of the cavalry and half the troops. You're in charge. Khadgar, you go with him. I want the Alliance present to help defend Quel'Thalas." He turned back toward Kurdran, who was impressed. This man knew how to lead! "There will still be orcs here in the forest," he warned, "and we can't risk letting them get behind us as well as before us. We'll stay and make sure the forest is completely clean, then we'll move forward and rejoin the others."
Kurdran nodded. "I thank ye for your aid," he replied formally. "And when the Hinterlands are once again secure, my warriors and I will be accompanying ye north to deal with the rest of this Horde."
"Thank you." Lothar bowed, then turned toward the elven lass, the clean—faced youth, and the wizard. "Are you still here? Get moving—every second you waste puts the Horde one second closer to Quel'Thalas." The three bowed and quickly exited the room. Kurdran didn't envy them their task, chasing an army and trying desperately to pass it and warn the elves of its approach. He just hoped they got there in time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Keep them moving!" Doomhammer bellowed, turning to look back at the Horde marching behind him. "We need to get through these peaks quickly!"
"Why?" This was from Rend Blackhand. He and his brother Maim hated Doomhammer for killing their father and taking his place as Warchief. They were among the few who dared to question Doomhammer's orders. Doomhammer allowed it, both because he knew any explanations he gave would filter back to the rest of the Horde and because the Black Tooth Grin was a large, powerful clan and therefore useful. Besides, the brothers might question actions or decisions but they never disobeyed a direct order, even when they disagreed with it. Doomhammer appreciated that, and was willing to tolerate their questions, up to a point.
"Why what?" Doomhammer answered now. He was negotiating the steep path up the mountains and most of his attention was on the rocks beneath his hands and feet. The forest trolls had already passed them by, scaling the cliffs as easily as they climbed trees, and had lowered ropes to aid the orc warriors in their climb, but Doomhammer refused to use them. He needed his troops to know he was still the strongest of them, and climbing the mountain unaided was one way to accomplish that. Rend had no such compunctions, and was pacing Doomhammer with one of the stout ropes wrapped firmly around his left arm.
"Why are we climbing?" Rend asked. "We could have gone around these mountains instead. Why are we taking this way? It is shorter, true, but harder. Scaling these peaks will slow us down."
Doomhammer reached the top of the cliff and grunted, wiping his hands clean of rock dust by rubbing them against his upper arms. He turned to face Rend as the other chieftain joined him at the peak, his brother and the other Horde leaders right behind them. They knew better than to reach the top before Doomhammer.
"The humans think us stupid," Doomhammer began, making sure all of them could hear him. He did not like having to repeat himself. "They imagine us as dumb brutes, just as we see the ogres." Several turned to look below, where the ogres were trailing behind even the orcs in their climb. They were strong enough to move past but too clumsy to manage easily. "I encourage that image." He grinned, showing his tusks. "Let them think us brainless! It makes our conquest easier, because they underestimate us."
He stooped and picked up a small rock, tossing it from hand to hand as he spoke. "We have already fooled them once, by splitting off a few clans when we reached the Hinterlands," he pointed out. "They busied themselves battling that portion of the Horde while we proceeded this way, toward the mountains. And they will still be busy while we cross here."
"But we are heading to Quel'Thalas, are we not?" Maim asked, the strange name causing him some difficulty. "Why not sail as close to it as possible, then, and be there long before the humans emerge from the Hinterlands?"
"Because the elves will never let our ships pass unmolested," Doomhammer pointed out. "Zul'jin says they are expert archers, and we would be trapped on the ships while they rained arrows down upon us. We would lose thousands, whole clans, before we could even reach the shore to fight them." Several of the chieftains murmured. That had not occurred to them. The Horde was still not accustomed to the idea of using ships, though a few, like the Stormreavers, and taken to it quickly enough.
"But we could have marched around the mountains," Rend pointed out. "A longer route but less difficult."