Uther studied him. "You have assumed command," he said softly.
"I suppose I have." Turalyon considered it. He hadn't really thought about it before. He had simply gotten used to giving orders for the army, both at Lothar's request and when the Commander was in the Hinterlands with the rest of the troops. Now he shrugged. "If you'd prefer we can send a gryphon rider to Lordaeron to ask King Terenas and the other kings who should assume command."
"There's no need," Khadgar said, stepping back to stand beside him. "You were Lothar's lieutenant and sub—commander. You were given charge of half the army when we divided the forces. You are the only choice to command now that he is gone." The mage turned toward Uther with a glare, clearly daring him to contradict the statement.
But to Turalyon's surprise, Uther nodded. "It is so," he agreed. "You are our commander, and we will follow your lead as we did Lord Lothar's." Then he moved closer and rested a friendly hand on Turalyon's shoulder. "And happy I was to see your faith finally emerge, my brother." The compliment seemed genuine, and Turalyon smiled, pleased to have the older Paladin's approval.
"And I thank you, Uther the Lightbringer," Turalyon replied, and he saw the older Paladin's eyes widen at the new title. "For so shall you be known henceforth, in honor of the Holy Light you brought us this day." Uther bowed, clearly pleased, then turned without another word and walked back toward the other knights of the Silver Hand, no doubt to tell them their marching orders.
"I thought he'd argue for taking control," Khadgar said quietly.
"He doesn't want it," Turalyon replied, still watching Uther. "He wants to lead, yes, but only by example. He's comfortable leading the Order only because they're Paladins as well."
"And you?" his friend asked bluntly. "Are you comfortable leading us all?"
Turalyon pondered that, then shrugged. "I don't feel I've earned it, but I know Lothar trusted me with it. And I believe in him and his judgment." He nodded and met Khadgar's gaze. "Now let's be after those orcs."
It took them a week to reach what Khadgar said were called the Swamp of Sorrows. They could have moved more quickly but Turalyon had cautioned his soldiers not to overtake the orcs yet. They needed to know the location of that portal first. Then they could strike.
Lothar's death had shocked everyone, but it had also galvanized them. Men who had been weary were now focused, hard, and resolute. They had all taken the loss of their commander personally, and seemed determined to avenge his death. And they all accepted Turalyon as his chosen successor, especially those who had followed him to Quel'Thalas and back.
Slogging through the marshes was difficult and unpleasant, but other than muttering a little no one complained. Their scouts kept the orcs in sight and then reported back, allowing the Alliance troops to move at a slow pace and still not worry about losing their quarry. The Horde remnant was in general disarray, all the orcs heading the same direction but not marching together, simply jogging or walking at their own paces and with a handful of companions amid the larger group. Turalyon just hoped that remained the case. He assumed the Horde leader, that Doomhammer, had left troops and a lieutenant in charge of the portal itself. If that leader was strong enough he could fuse the defeated orcs back into a solid fighting force, along with whatever warriors he had with him already. Turalyon warned his lieutenants to keep the men alert and not let them get complacent. Assuming this would be an easy fight could get them all killed.
They spent another week in the swamps before finally reaching an area called the Black Morass. But here even Khadgar was in for a surprise.
"I don't understand," the mage commented, crouching to study the ground. "This should all be marsh! It should be just like what we've already been through, soggy and filthy and smelly." He tapped the hard red stone before him and frowned. "This is definitely not right."
"It looks almost igneous," said Brann Bronzebeard, who stood beside him. The dwarves had insisted on accompanying them the rest of the way, and Turalyon had been glad for both their battle prowess and their company. He found he liked the two brothers, with their bluff good cheer and their equal appreciation for a good fight, a good ale, and a fine woman. Brann was certainly the more scholarly of the two, and he and Khadgar had spent several evenings talking about obscure texts while the rest of them discussed less academic subjects. And all the dwarves from Ironforge were experts on rocks and gems, so for Brann to not recognize the rock beneath them was unsettling, to say the least. "But no fire I know could do this," he added, scraping at it with one blunt fingernail. "And certainly not to such a large expanse." For the red stone stretched ahead of them as far as they could see. "I've never seen the like."
"Unfortunately, I have," Khadgar replied, standing again. "But not on this world." He did not explain further and something in his expression warned the others not to press him.
Muradin started to ask anyway, but his brother stopped him. "Do ye know what your name means in Dwarven, lad?" Brann asked Khadgar. "It means ‘trust. " The mage nodded. "We trust ye, lad. You'll tell us when you're ready."
"Well, it's almost certainly tied to the orcs," Turalyon pointed out, "and we'll have an easier time pursuing them across stone than we would through more marshland, so I'm not opposed to the change in scenery." The others nodded, though Khadgar still looked thoughtful, and they mounted up again and continued on.
A few nights later, Khadgar glanced up from the campfire and suddenly announced, "I think we have a problem." The others all turned to listen to the young—old mage. "I have consulted with the other magi and we think we know what's caused the ground to change," he explained. "It's the Dark Portal itself. Its very presence is affecting our world, starting with the lands immediately around it. And I think it's spreading."
"Why would this portal cause such an alteration?" Uther asked. The Silver Hand leader had never been very comfortable with magi, sharing the common perception that their magic was unholy and possibly even demonic, but he had learned to at least accept and possibly even respect Khadgar during the long war.
But the mage shook his head. "I'd have to see it to be certain," he replied. "But I'd guess the portal is linking our two worlds, this one and the orcs' homeworld of Draenor, and it's doing more than just forming a bridge. Somehow it's melding the two together, at least right at its entry point."
"And their world is made of red stone?" Brann guessed.
"Not entirely," Khadgar answered. "Some time ago I had a vision of Draenor, however, and what I saw of it was a bleak place, with ground much like this. There is little life left there, as if nature itself has been stripped away. I think it may be their magics, which taint the land itself. That taint is spreading through the portal, and every time the orcs use their magics here it grows worse."
"All the more reason to destroy it, then," Turalyon announced. "And the sooner the better."
His friend nodded. "Yes, I agree. The sooner the better."
It was three more days before the scouts came back and announced that the orcs had stopped moving. "They're all holed up in a large valley just ahead," one of them announced. "And there's some kind of gateway in the center."
Khadgar exchanged a glance with Turalyon, Uther, and the Bronzebeard brothers. That had to be the Dark Portal.
"Tell the men," Turalyon said softly, drawing Lothar's broken sword with one hand and hefting his own hammer with his other. "We attack at once." Khadgar marveled once again at the changes the last few months had caused in his friend. Turalyon had become more stern, more commanding, more sure of himself—he had gone from being an untried youth to a seasoned warrior and an experienced commander. But since Lothar's death he had also had an aura about him, a sense of calm and wisdom and even majesty. Uther and the other Paladins had similar feels but more removed, as if they were above the problems of this world. Turalyon seemed to be more at one with the world around him, more attuned to his surroundings. It was a magic Khadgar did not understand, but one he respected a great deal. In many ways it was the opposite of his own magic, which sought to control the elements and other forces. Turalyon was not controlling anything, but by opening himself to those same forces he gained the ability to tap them, with less control but more subtlety than any mage.