There! A flicker of movement appeared below, something passing into his range of vision on the forest floor. Whatever it was, it was cloaked in browns and greens like the trees but he caught a glimpse of paler color beneath. And it made no sound as it stepped, walking across leaves and brush as if they were smooth stone.
An elf!
Another emerged behind the first, and then a third and a fourth. Soon a full hunting party was passing below, ten in all. And they did not look up. Secure in their own forest, it did not occur to the elves to be wary.
Zul'jin grinned. This would be easier than he had thought.
Signaling his kin he returned his axes to their sheaths and dropped quietly to a lower branch, and swung from that one down to a third. Now he was less than twenty feet above the elves and could see them clearly, their cloaks streaming behind them. They carried the accursed bows and arrows of their kind slung across their backs, but their hands were empty. They did not suspect what lurked above them.
Zul'jin dropped down from the trees, drawing his axes as he moved. He landed easily on the balls of his feet, right between two elves, and slashed at both before they could react. His first blow took the one facing him in the throat, while his second blow bit deep into the skull of the one before him. Both fell, blood spraying the leaves.
The other elves turned, shouting in surprise, and reached for their own weapons. But now Zul'jin's brethren fell upon them, axes and daggers and clubs at the ready. The elves twisted and dodged, desperate to get enough space to draw their swords or string their bows, but the trolls did not give them the chance. The elves were quick but the trolls were taller and stronger, and grabbed the rangers before they could get away.
One elf did manage to twist free. He took two quick steps away and turned, using a tree for cover. Zul'jin expected the elf to go for his bow, but instead his hands fell to a long horn hanging from his belt. The ranger lifted the horn to his lips and blew a mighty blast—but it was cut short as one of the other trolls stabbed the elf in the stomach, and the blast turned to a faint wheeze as the ranger collapsed, blood spilling from his mouth as well as his gut.
The skirmish was over. Zul'jin reached down and cut an ear from the first elf he'd slain, adding it to the pouch at his waist. Later he would dry the ear and string it onto his necklace with the others, to show his prowess. But for now they had other tasks.
"Come," he told his kin, who were laughing and amusing themselves by tearing off ears and hair and other parts from the fallen elves. Several had appropriated the elves' long slender swords as trophies—such weapons were pretty enough but not sturdy enough for the trolls' powerful thrusts. "More elves be comin'," Zul'jin warned them. "Back ta the trees. We lead them on a chase, keep them busy." He grinned and his brethren answered with fierce expressions of their own. "Then we kill them all."
Quickly the forest trolls leaped up, grabbing low branches with their long—fingered hands and pulling themselves up into the cover of the leaves. They swung up and away, leaving the bodies and the blood behind, their eyes alert and noses sniffing for any hint of approaching elves.
Zul'jin was not worried. He knew the other elves would come soon. And they would be ready. It had been a long time since he had spilled elf blood, and the brief battle had renewed his thirst for more. His kin felt the same, and many were snapping their jaws and flexing their fingers, eager for another fight with the pale—skinned elves. Soon, Zul'jin assured himself quietly. Soon they would have a chance to kill as many elves as they wanted. The forest would run red with blood, and the elves would know the fall of their own empire, just as the trolls had felt theirs die so long ago. And he, Zul'jin, would be responsible. He would hold the elf king's head high so it could see its people's death, just before he devoured it whole.
He could hardly wait.
"Is it ready?" Gul'dan asked impatiently. A short distance away, Cho'gall shook both his heads. The massive ogre grunted and shoved, his enormous shoulder pushing the last Runestone fragment another foot across the thickly grassed clearing.
"Now it is ready," he called out, straightening and rubbing at the shoulder with one hand.
Gul'dan nodded. It had taken them several hours to dig out a single Runestone, shatter the monolith into several still enormous pieces, and carry five of them here to this clearing, and then several more hours to position the stones just right and inscribe the circle and the pentagram between them. Fortunately Doomhammer had given them the use of several regular ogres for the labor, and Cho'gall was able to communicate with his stupid one—headed kin more easily than any orc could. The Runestone fragments were large and dense but two ogres could lift them, whereas it would have taken dozens of orcs to budge each stone. Gul'dan wondered idly how the elves had gotten the original unbroken stones to their locations in the first place. Most likely magic. Or perhaps they had used slave labor as well. The forest trolls were nearly as powerful as the ogres and far smarter, so they would have been able to follow more detailed instructions.
At least the stones were in place now. Gul'dan gestured and three other orc warlocks took their places beside three of the Runestone pieces. It was a good thing Doomhammer had not killed all of them or this ritual would not have stood even a chance of working. As it was, Gul'dan thought it would succeed but he was not completely sure. Still, if it failed he was fairly certain he would survive unscathed.
He nodded to Cho'gall, who called out to the ogres clustered off to one side. After a moment of jostling and pushing and grunting one of them stepped forward. Cho'gall barked a command and the ogre, shrugging, slouched into the space between the stones. It stood at the center of the pentagram and waited, motionless. One good thing about ogres was that they could stand still when required. Indeed, when not given an order and not looking for food ogres could stand for hours, as motionless as statues. Gul'dan had often wondered if they had somehow evolved from rocks. It would explain their dense hides as well as their utter stupidity.
Returning his mind to the task at hand, Gul'dan raised his arms and called forth the dark energies his demon masters had granted him back on Draenor. The energy crackled about him, and he fed it into the Runestone fragment directly before him. Cho'gall had taken the final place and he and the other warlocks added their magic as well, each powering a single stone. When all five stones hummed with power, almost vibrating from the energies they contained, Gul'dan spoke a short incantation and concentrated. More energy arced from his fingertips into his Runestone, but this time the energy then flickered through his stone and on to the nearest stone on his left. Nor did the energy stop there. It passed to the next stone, and then the next, and then the next, and finally back to his, linking all five in an array of dancing, bristling magic. The air itself seemed to darken above the altar, and it felt thick with energy, the way the sky did right before a massive storm. The ogre still stood unmoving, though Gul'dan thought he saw a glimmer of fear in its eyes. Oh good, Cho'gall had picked a smart one.
Now that the stones had power Gul'dan turned the energy toward their center, and toward the towering figure standing there. Bolts of dark energy shot from his stone and struck the ogre full in the chest, surrounding it with a blazing dark aura. The other Runestone fragments lent their strength and the ogre almost disappeared within the dark glow that filled the space between the stones. More energy danced within that sphere, somehow feeding on itself, and now they could make out only the faintest hint of the ogre's outline. Gul'dan was sure he could feel his arms trembling from fatigue and magical drain but excitement kept him quivering with energy.
After a few minutes the shadowy glow began to fade. Slowly it dimmed, and the figure within stood out in greater detail. Still the ogre towered above them all, except Cho'gall, but something about the creature had changed. Gul'dan waited impatiently for the glow to dissipate enough for him to see into the sphere. Finally it did so, winking out completely in an instant, and Gul'dan had his first real look at the creature his Alter of Storms had created.