"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."
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.