It was still clearly an ogre, though even larger than before, and somehow its proportions had shifted. Its arms were not quite as long, its legs not quite so bowed, and it held itself different, more alert.
And of course there were the two heads.
Back on Draenor, two—headed ogres were incredibly rare. They were bigger and stronger than their kin and more coordinated. They were venerated, and Cho'gall was the first seen in generations. Even more rare, he had proven intelligent enough to become a mage. Gul'dan had found the two—headed ogre when he was still young and had trained him carefully. Cho'gall had proven a valuable assistant and a powerful warlock in his own right, and still remained with Gul'dan to this day. And now it seemed Cho'gall was not alone.
The new two—headed ogre turned and stared at Gul'dan, somehow realizing he was in charge.
"What am I?" it demanded, one head speaking while the other looked around. Its language skill was far greater than a normal ogre's as well.
"You are an ogre," Gul'dan replied. "Perhaps an ogre mage."
"An ogre mage," the new ogre's other head asked. "What does that mean?"
Gul'dan found himself explaining about magi and warlocks and shaman and other workers of magic.
"And I am one of these?" the new ogre asked.
"Possibly." Gul'dan's eyes narrowed. "There is a simple test." He stooped and lifted a single leaf from the ground, handing it to the two—headed creature. "Take this." The ogre took the leaf with surprising skill, showing that his dexterity had dramatically increased as well. "Now concentrate on the idea of fire, of heat and flame," Gul'dan told the ogre.
The ogre frowned with both faces, studying the leaf. Then it nodded slightly, first one head and then the other.
"Good." Gul'dan spoke softly, not wanting to break the creature's concentration. "Now bring that flame to life. Let it claim the leaf, the fire licking across it, the heat warming your skin, almost burning your fingers."
He watched as a spark appeared near the middle of the leaf and rapidly grew to a small flame that spread hungrily. The leaf shriveled, turning dark and brittle in seconds as the fire consumed it. The breeze carried it away, and the ogre glanced up, meeting Gul'dan's eyes with both its own pairs, its double gaze bright.
"I am an ogre mage then, yes?" It sounded pleased. One head grinned. The other smiled slightly, though it seemed puzzled.
"Yes," Gul'dan agreed, also pleased. "You are one of us."
"What does that mean, ‘one of us'?" the creature asked next, its less exuberant head frowning. "What do I do with this gift?"
Gul'dan explained about the Horde. He also told the ogre about the need to conquer here, and about the other races they had already faced in their quest. The ogre mage listened quietly, absorbing every detail.
"You created me," the ogre said at last. It was not a question, but Gul'dan nodded. "I am your creature then," the ogre affirmed. "I will serve you. Your cause is my cause. Tell me what to do."
Inside, Gul'dan rejoiced. It was exactly as he'd hoped. By shaping the two—headed ogre with his own magic, he had formed a bond between them. The creature was completely loyal! Outwardly, however, he was careful not to show too much glee. Instead he simply gestured for Cho'gall to approach. "This is Cho'gall," Gul'dan explained. "He, like you, is a trusted assistant and an ogre mage. He will explain what we are doing here. And he will give you a name of your own."
The new ogre bowed its heads. "Thank you, master," the more somber head said before the creature followed Cho'gall away. Gul'dan knew his assistant would set the new ogre mage to work powering the Altar again. And with each use they would gain another two—headed ogre. He knew he could not expect most of them to be ogre magi—that was too much to hope for. But if even one in ten possessed the necessary intelligence he would be able to assemble a second Altar and power that one as well. Gul'dan chuckled. He would transform every ogre in the Horde if Doomhammer did not stop him. And why would he? As far as Doomhammer knew, he was getting bigger, stronger warriors. The Warchief would never suspect that these new creatures were completely loyal to Gul'dan and not him, and Gul'dan would make sure his new servants did not reveal their true loyalties too soon. Only when the time was right. And then Doomhammer would discover there was a new faction within the Horde, one he could not so easily destroy or cast aside.
Gul'dan laughed again and turned away. Cho'gall would handle the rest of the process here. He had other tasks to oversee, ones that would later lead to his finally claiming the power that lay waiting for him elsewhere.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"By Silvermoon, where are they?" Alleria raced through the forest, sword in hand, the leaves and branches whipping past her as a blur. The other rangers had fanned out to cover more ground, and Alleria hoped they hadn't run into any orcs or trolls. She wanted those miserable green—skinned intruders for herself.
Not for the first time since seeing the fires she wished she'd never left home. Why had she decided that the Alliance needed her help? Weren't Anasterian Sunstrider and the other council members far older and wiser than she was, and thus far better equipped to decide what aid they should offer the younger races? Then again, Anasterian had been convinced the Horde would never pose a threat to them here in Quel'Thalas. That was why he had felt the Alliance was not their concern, because they were safe from whatever was occurring in the outside world.
Clearly he had been wrong.
Still, if Alleria had listened to him and abided by his decision she would have been here, not sailing downriver and marching over hills. She would have been here when the orcs and trolls arrived, here with her family and her people when the Horde breached their borders.
Would it have made any difference? She didn't know. Perhaps not. What could one more ranger have done to stop an enemy she wouldn't even realize was approaching? But at least she wouldn't now feel like she had deserted them in their hour of need.
The thought spurred her to even greater speed, and she leaped over a low bush into a tiny clearing between two clusters of trees—and found herself staring down the tip of a hunting arrow aimed at her throat.
The figure holding the bow was nearly as tall as her and wearing similar garb, though far less travel—stained. Long hair streamed back from beneath the cloak's hood and seemed to gleam like ivory in the sunlight, a shining silvery white that Alleria knew too well to ever mistake it.
"Vereesa?"
The other figure lowered the bow, her blue eyes wide with surprise and relief. "Alleria?" Then the bow had been tossed aside, and Alleria's younger sister had caught her up in a rough embrace. "You're home!"
"Of course." Alleria squeezed Vereesa in return and patted her head, a gesture so familiar it was automatic. "Are you all right?" she asked after a minute. "Where's Sylvanas? Are Mother and Father safe?"
"They're fine," Vereesa answered, disengaging and bending to retrieve her weapons. "Sylvanas is with a hunting party near the riverbank. As for Mother and Father, they should be in Silvermoon by now. They went to consult with the elders." She paused, fitting the arrow back to her string. "Alleria, where have you been? And what's going on? There are fires! All over Quel'Thalas! And some of the other rangers—they haven't reported back."