CHAPTER TWO
Orgrim Doomhammer, chieftain of the Blackrock clan and warchief of the Horde, surveyed the scene. He stood near the center of Stormwind as his warriors destroyed the once—great city around him. Everywhere he turned there was destruction and devastation. Buildings burned despite being made of stone. Bodies and rubble littered the street. Blood flowed across the flagstones, pooling here and there. Screams indicated that survivors had been found and were being tortured.
Doomhammer nodded. It was good.
Stormwind had been an imposing city and a powerful obstacle. For a time he had not been sure they could topple its great walls or overwhelm its stalwart defenders. Despite the Horde's superior numbers, the humans had fought back with skill and determination. Doomhammer respected them for that. They had been worthy opponents.
Yet they had fallen, as all must, before his people's might. The city had been breached, its defenders killed or run off, and now this land was theirs. This rich, fertile land, so like their own homeworld had been before the cataclysm. Before Gul'dan and his folly had destroyed it.
Doomhammer's thoughts turned grim and his grip tightened on his fabled hammer. Gul'dan! The treacherous shaman—turned—warlock had caused more trouble than he was worth. Only his opening the rift to this new world had saved him from being torn apart by enraged clansmen. Yet somehow the schemer had turned even that to his advantage. He had taken control of Blackhand—or perhaps he had always had it. Doomhammer had watched his former chieftain for years and knew the massive orc warrior had been smarter than he let on. But not smart enough. And by playing to Blackhand's ego Gul'dan had swayed him and taken control. He had been behind the plan to unite the clans into the Horde, Doomhammer was sure of that. And Gul'dan's Shadow Council had ruled from behind the scenes, advising Blackhand in such a way that he never realized they were in fact issuing orders.
Doomhammer grinned. That, at least, was ended now. He had not been pleased at being forced to kill Blackhand. He had been the warchief's Second and sworn to fight beside him, not against him. But tradition allowed a warrior to challenge his chieftain for supremacy and Doomhammer had finally been forced to take that route. He had won, as he knew he must, and with the blow that crushed Blackhand's skull he had taken control of their clan—and of the Horde.
That had left the Shadow Council to deal with. And that had been a pleasure.
He chuckled at the memory. Few orcs had even known of the council's existence, much less its membership and sanctuary. But Doomhammer had guessed whom to ask. The half—orc Garona had been tortured into revealing the council's location—no doubt her non—orc blood made her too weak to withstand much. The look on the warlocks' faces as he had burst into their meeting had been priceless. And even moreso their expressions as he had advanced through the room, slaughtering them left and right. Doomhammer had shattered the power of the Shadow Council that day. He would not be controlled as Blackhand had. He would choose his own battles and make his own plans, not to increase anyone's power but to ensure his people's survival.
As if thinking of him had been a summons, Doomhammer spotted two figures approaching him down the broad, bloodied street. One was shorter than an average orc, the other far taller and with a strange shape. Doomhammer knew them at once and his lips curled away from his tusks in a sneer.
"Have you completed your task, then?" he called out as Gul'dan and his lackey Cho'gall approached. He kept his gaze on the warlock, barely sparing a sharp glance at his hulking subordinate. Doomhammer had fought ogres all his life, as had most orcs. He had been disgusted when Blackhand had forged an alliance with the monstrous creatures, though he admitted they had their use in combat. But he still did not like or trust them. And Cho'gall was worse than most. He was one of that rare breed, the two—headed ogre, and had far more intelligence than his brutish brethren. Cho'gall was a mage in his own right, and the idea of an ogre with such power filled Doomhammer with dread. Plus Cho'gall had gained control of the Twilight's Hammer clan, and showed the same fanaticism as the orcs who followed him. That made the two—headed ogre very dangerous. Not that Doomhammer would ever let such concerns show, but he kept his grip on his hammer tight whenever the ogre mage was near.
"I have not, noble Doomhammer," Gul'dan replied, stopping beside him. The warlock looked thin but otherwise no worse for his months—long slumber. "But I have at last shaken off the last effects of my prolonged slumber. And I bring powerful news drawn from that same long repose!"
"Oh? Your sleep has brought you wisdom?"
"It has shown me the path to great power," Gul'dan admitted, lust clear in his eyes. But Doomhammer knew it was not an ordinary lust, not for females or fine food or wealth. Gul'dan thought only of power, and would do anything to obtain it. His actions on their own world had proven that.
"Power for you or for the Horde?" Doomhammer demanded.
"For both," the warlock replied. His voice dropped to a sly whisper. "I have seen a place, ancient beyond imagining, older even than the sacred mountain of our homeworld. It lies deep beneath the waves, and within it rests a power that could reshape this world. We could claim it as our own, and none can stand against us!"
"None can stand against us now," Doomhammer growled back. "And I prefer the honest might of hammer and axe to whatever foul sorceries you have uncovered. Look what your scheming did to our world, and to our people, the last time! I will not have you destroy them further or wreck this new world just as we have begun to conquer it!"
"This is far greater than your desires," the warlock snapped, his temper brushing aside any pretense of servility. "My destiny lies beneath the water, and there is little you can do to stop that! This Horde is but the first step in our people's path, and it shall be I who lead them beyond here, not you!"
"Have a care, warlock," Doomhammer replied, his hammer coming up to tap Gul'dan lightly on the cheek. "Remember what happened to your precious Shadow Council. I can crush your skull in an instant, and then where will your destiny lie?" He glowered up at the towering Cho'gall. "And do not think this abomination will save you," he snarled, raising the hammer higher and laughing as the ogre mage stepped back, fear washing across both his faces. "I have felled ogres before, even the gronn. I can and will do so again." He leaned in close. "Your goals are no longer important. Only the Horde matters."
For an instant he saw anger flicker in Gul'dan's eyes and thought the warlock might not back down. And a part of him rejoiced. Doomhammer had always admired and revered his people's shaman, as had all orcs, but these warlocks were something far different. Their power did not come from the elements or the ancestor—spirits but from some other, horrible source. It had been their magic that had turned his people from wholesome brown to gruesome green, and was killing their own world, forcing them to come here just to survive. And Gul'dan was their leader, their instigator, by far the most powerful, most cunning, and most selfish of them all. Doomhammer knew the warlocks' value to the Horde but he could not help but feel they would all be better off without them.
Perhaps Gul'dan saw this in his own eyes, for the anger vanished, replaced by caution and grudging respect. "Of course, mighty Doomhammer," the warlock said, dropping his head. "You are correct. The Horde must come first." He grinned, fully recovered from his fright, the anger apparently gone or at least buried deep once more. "And I have many new ideas to aid our conquest. But first I shall deliver the warriors I promised, unstoppable but fully under your control."
Doomhammer nodded slowly. "Very well," he grated. "I will not ignore anything that could make our success more assured." He turned away, dismissing the warlock and his lieutenant, and Gul'dan took the hint, bowing and walking away, Cho'gall stomping along beside him. Doomhammer knew he would have to watch both of them very closely. Gul'dan was not one to take an insult lightly, or to allow anyone to control him for long. But until the warlock stepped out of line his magic would be useful, and Doomhammer would take full advantage of that. The sooner they crushed any opposition, the sooner his people could set aside their weapons and turn to building homes and families once more.