13
How is it we did not see? It is easy to lay the blame on the charismatic Kil’jaeden, or the weak Ner’zhul, or the power-hungry Gul’dan for our fall. But they asked of each individual orc to pretend that hot was cold, that sweet was sour, and even when everything in us screamed against what we were being told, we followed. I was not there, I cannot say why. Perhaps I, too, would have obeyed like a whipped cur. Perhaps the fear was so great, or the respect for our leaders so ingrained. Perhaps.
Or perhaps I, like my father and others, would start to see the flaws. I would like to think so.
Blackhand looked out from under his bushy eyebrows, frowning. He always looked like he was frowning, perhaps because he almost always was.
“I do not know about this. Gul’dan.” he rumbled. His oversized hand went to the hilt of his sword, fondling it in an uneasy gesture.
When Gul’dan had asked to meet with Blackhand a fortnight ago, and to bring his most promising shaman but to tell no one of what they were to be doing, he had agreed. Blackhand had always liked Gul’dan better than Ner’zhul, although he was not sure why. When Gul’dan sat down with him over a lavish meal and explained the current situation, Blackhand was very glad he had come. Now he knew why he liked Gul’dan so much; the former apprentice, now master, was like Blackhand himself. He had no use for ideals, only practicalities. And power, good food, lavish armor, and bloodshed were things both orcs craved.
Blackhand was chieftain of the Blackrock orcs. He could rise no higher. At least … not until now. When the clans were separate, the greatest glory was to lead one’s clan. But now … now they were working together. Now Blackhand could see the glint of greed in Gul’dan’s small eyes. He could almost smell the hunger wafting off the other orc, a hunger he shared.
“Ner’zhul is an honored and valued advisor,” Gul’dan said as he chewed dried fruit, extending a claw to pick a chunk where it had gotten lodged between his teeth. “He has great wisdom. But … it has been decided that I would be a better choice to lead the orcs from this point on.”
Blackhand grinned savagely. Ner’zhul was nowhere to be seen.
“And a wise leader surrounds himself with trusted allies,” Gul’dan continued. “Those who are strong and obedient. Who will fulfill their obligations. And who, for their loyalty, will be held in high regard and richly rewarded.”
Blackhand had begun to bridle at the description “obedient,” but was mollified when Gul’dan mentioned “high regard” and “richly rewarded.” He glanced over at the eight shaman he had brought to Gul’dan. They were sitting huddled over a second fire some distance away, being attended to by Gul’dan’s servants. They looked wretchedly unhappy, and were conveniently out of earshot.
Blackhand said, “You asked for the shaman. I assume you know what is happening with them?”
Gul’dan sighed and reached for a talbuk leg. He bit deeply into it, the juices running down his face. He wiped his jutting jaw absently, chewed, swallowed, and answered.
“Yes, I have heard. The elements are no longer obeying them.”
Blackhand watched him intently. “Some air beginning to mutter that it is because what we are doing is wrong.”
“Do you think that?”
Blackhand shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’t know what to think. This is all new territory. The ancestors say one thing, but the elements won’t come.”
He was harboring a growing suspicion about the ancestors as well, but held his tongue. Blackhand knew that many thought him a fool; he preferred to let them think he was nothing mote than a strong arm and a powerful sword. It gave him distinct advantages.
Gul’dan perused him now, and Blackhand wondered if the new spiritual leader of the orcs had sensed there was more to the orc leader than met the eye.
“We are a proud race.” Gul’dan said. “It is sometimes painful to admit that We do not know everything. Kil’jaeden and the entities he leads … ah. Blackhand, the mysteries they harbor! The power they wield—power they are willing to share with us!”
Gul’dan’s eyes sparkled now with excitement. Blackhand’s own heart began to race. Gul’dan leaned forward and continued to speak in an awed whisper.
“We air as ignorant children before them. Even you—even I. But they are willing to teach us. Share with us some of their power. Power that is not dependent upon the whim of the spirits of air, earth, fire, and water.” Gul’dan made a dismissive gesture. “Power such as that is feeble. It is not reliable. It can desert you in the middle of a battle and leave you helpless.”
Blackhand’s face hardened. He had witnessed this very thing, and it had taken all the strength of his warriors to snatch victory when the shaman had begun yelping in terror that the elements were no longer working with them.
“I am listening,” he growled softly.
“Imagine what you could do if you led a group of shaman who controlled the source of their powers, instead of begging and scraping for it,” Gul’dan continued. “Imagine if these shaman had servants who could also fight on your side. Servants who could, say, send your enemies fleeing helplessly in terror. Suck their magic dry as the insects in the summer suck blood. Distract them so that their attention was not on battle.”
Blackhand lifted a bushy eyebrow. “I can imagine success under those conditions. Success almost every time.”
Gul’dan nodded, grinning. “Exactly.”
“But how do you know this is true, and not some false promise whispered in your ear?”
Gul’dan’s grin widened. “Because, my friend … I have experienced this. And I will teach your shaman over there everything I know.”
“Impressive,” rumbled Blackhand.
“But that is not all that I can offer. The warriors—I know a way to make you and everyone who fights at your side more powerful, fiercer, deadlier. All this can be ours if We but claim it.”
“Ours?”
“I cannot continue to waste my time speaking with every single leader of every single clan every time they have a complaint.” Gul’dan said, waving his hand imperiously. “There are those who are in agreement with what you and I think is the best way to proceed … and those who are not.”
“Go on,” said Blackhand.
But Gul’dan did not, at least not right away. He was silent, gathering his thoughts. Blackhand grasped a stick and poked at the fire. He knew well that most of the orcs, even those of his own clan, thought him hotheaded and impetuous, but he knew the value of patience.
“I envision two groups of leaders of the orcs. One, a simple governing council to make decisions for the whole, its leader elected, its business conducted openly for all to see. The second … a shadow of this group. Hidden. Secret. Powerful,” Gul’dan said quietly. “This … this Shadow Council will be comprised of orcs who share our vision, and who are willing to make the necessary sacrifices to obtain it.”
Blackhand nodded. “Yes … yes, I see. A public leadership … and a private one.”
Gul’dan’s mouth stretched in a slow grin. Blackhand regarded him for a moment, then asked the question.
“And to which one shall I belong?”
“Both, my friend,” Gul’dan answered smoothly. “You are a born leader. You have charisma, strength, and even your enemies know you are a master strategist. It will be case itself to have you elected as leader of the orcs.”
Blackhand’s eyes flashed. “I am no puppet,” he growled softly.
“Of course not,” said Gul’dan. “Which is why I said you would belong to both. You would be the leader of this new breed of orc, this … this Horde, if you will. And you will be on the Shadow Council as well. We cannot work together unless we can trust one another, can we?”