Doomhammer sneered at that. "Are you afraid of a challenge, then?" Several of the other chieftains laughed, and Rend bristled.
"Of course not!" he snapped, raising his one fist, clearly ready to fight anyone who claimed otherwise. "I am up to the task! I was right behind you the entire climb!" No one dared point out that he had used a rope, while Doomhammer had not. The Blackhands were fearsome warriors and widely respected, another reason Doomhammer allowed them to ask so many questions.
"Then you do wish to challenge?" Doomhammer asked quietly, his voice dropping. Rend backed away quickly, paling as he realized what he had almost said. The Blackhands wanted to lead the Horde, but they would have to challenge and defeat Doomhammer in combat to do so. And they all knew he would kill them, even if they both attacked at once. A part of him kept hoping they would try. Then he could replace them with a more reasonable Black Tooth Grin chieftain. But so far they had always backed down.
"Going around might have been faster," Doomhammer said finally, when he saw Rend was not going to take the bait, "but our movements would have been more visible. This way we will come upon the elves with them unawares." He grinned again. "If the humans survive their battle in the Hinterlands and can march around the mountains, they may well reach Quel'Thalas before us. And then, if the elves allow them entry, they will all be gathered together when we attack." He laughed and crushed the rock in his hand, dust spraying from between his fingers. "They have nowhere to go from there. We will crush them and make that land our own." He opened his hand and let the dust and rock chips fall. "And if they are behind us, they will find us already established in Quel'Thalas when they arrive. And we will beat them back and smash them against the foothills behind them." He made a show of wiping his hands clean again. "Either way, we win."
The others all murmured, several of them grinning and laughing as well, and Rend nodded. "You are wise," he grudgingly admitted. "This is a good plan." Doomhammer nodded to accept the compliment.
"Now we must continue," Doomhammer told the rest of them. "There are still several peaks to cover." He turned to Zuluhed first, however. "Where are they?" he asked.
"On their way," the Dragonmaw chieftain answered, grinning at the murmurs that rose behind him. None of the other orcs knew anything more than that the Dragonmaw were planning something, with Doomhammer's full approval. "They have a long way to travel, but they are swift. They will reach us soon, and the world will tremble at their arrival."
"Good." Then Doomhammer turned and glanced at the tall figure standing a short distance away, its long scarf blowing in the wind. "How far are we from Quel'Thalas?"
"Four days travel, at this pace," Zul'jin replied. "But we could be there sooner." The forest troll's eyes gleamed at the prospect, and his hands strayed to the axes at his side.
"No," Doomhammer ordered, ignoring the troll's obvious disappointment. "You will stay with us and continue lowering ropes for the troops." He grinned at the troll leader. "Do not worry, you will get your chance to attack the elven homeland. But not until the Horde is right behind you, ready to roll down upon them."
Zul'jin pondered this a moment, then nodded. "They'll be angry, ya," he commented, then laughed. "They'll emerge like wasps, ready ta sting. An' you will swarm them like ants, devourin' them whole."
"Yes." Doomhammer liked the image. Ants were industrious workers, and sturdy beyond all expectation. They could be nasty as well, gathering to overwhelm much larger creatures. Yes, ants would do nicely. And right now he signaled the march to continue, the Horde marching up the mountain behind him like an army of ants intent upon conquest.
Four days later, Doomhammer and his chieftains looked down from a foothill that stood between the last mountain peak and the start of the great forest. The rest of the Horde was massing behind them, weary from the climbing and marching but shaking off fatigue now that their next target lay before them. But none were as excited as the forest trolls.
"We be goin' now?" Zul'jin looked eagerly at Doomhammer, who nodded.
"Yes, go now," the Warchief agreed. "Bring the fight to the elves. Spare no one and nothing." The forest troll leader grinned and tilted his head back to let loose a strange warbling cry. Another forest troll appeared immediately, just beyond where the two leaders stood, moving as silently and suddenly as a ghost. A third dropped from the rocks overhead to stand beside him, and another beside that one, and more after them, until the small valley behind the hill was filled with the tall, lanky forest creatures. There were far more than Doomhammer remembered Zul'jin bringing with him, and his surprise must have shown because the forest troll leader grinned through his everpresent scarf.
"Found more," he explained, laughing. "Witherbark tribe. They be joinin' us."
Doomhammer nodded. He was not particularly afraid of them, though the trolls were taller than him. He had faced bigger and stronger foes before and always he had been the one to walk away. Besides, in the months since forging their alliance Zul'jin had impressed him. The forest troll was a clever one but he also had honor. He had promised his people's aid to the Horde and would not go back on that. Doomhammer was willing to risk his life on that belief.
Of course, the fact that the forest trolls apparently hated these high elves certainly helped. The trolls had been all in favor of turning north toward Quel'Thalas, and had been almost frantic to breach the elven forest and begin finding and attacking the elves themselves. Doomhammer had insisted they wait, however. He wanted the rest of the Horde properly in position before the trolls struck. And Zul'jin had managed to keep his brethren in line, even though he was just as eager to strike as they were.
But now the time for waiting was over. With a howl Zul'jin leaped forward and raced down the hills. He did not slow as he struck the edge of the forest but jumped up into the trees, springing easily from limb to limb. The rest of his people followed him, bounding into the trees and disappearing from view, with only the rustle of leaves and the occasional growl to mark their presence. But Doomhammer knew they would make their way deep into the massive forest, seeking elves and killing any they found. Soon the forest's defenders would know about the trolls' invasion and would rush to meet them.
And that would keep the elves busy, too busy to check their borders for other threats.
Doomhammer signaled, and the rest of the Horde swept over the hill as well, marching steadily across the narrow strip of grassland and at last reaching the first row of trees.
"Now, Warchief?" a nearby orc warrior asked, axe at the ready. Doomhammer nodded, and the warrior turned back to the tree beside him, its trunk thick from age and smooth as silk, its leaves rich and green and smelling of nature and life and bounty—and with a mighty swing the orc chipped a large splinter of bark and wood from its trunk. Then he swung again, expanding the chip.
"No no!" Doomhammer snatched the axe from the startled warrior, shoving him back. "Do not approach it at an angle, but straight on," he instructed. He pulled the axe back, bunching his muscles, and then swung with all his force, imbedding the axe partway through the trunk. Then with a mighty wrench he retrieved the weapon and struck again in the same spot, deepening the wound. A third blow saw the axe almost through to the other side, only a small portion of wood and bark remaining. Doomhammer pulled the axe back, angling it upward as he did so its head pushed upward on the trunk, and the tree tipped and fell, snapping that remaining section from its own weight and momentum. The ground shook as the tree hit, and leaves and berries flew everywhere.