Tides of Darkness (world of warcraf)

by Aaron Rosenberg

  "Yes, but it won't do much good," Khadgar answered, stabbing his sword into an orc that came too close. "I can kill them but only a few at a time. I could summon a storm but it wouldn't help, and it would leave me too drained to work more magic later."

  Turalyon nodded. "Let's get the men back across the lake, and hold this bridge!" he told his friend, brandishing his hammer again even as he used his shield to knock an orc into the water that flowed beneath them. "Then we can wait until they've lost interest in us and attack again while their back is turned."

  Khadgar nodded, too busy defending himself to speak. He hoped this new plan would work. Because otherwise the Horde would simply burn the bridge and keep pounding on the city gates until they collapsed. And once the gates went they were inside the city and would be impossible to remove. Khadgar had seen the orcs take a city once before, at Stormwind. He did not want to see it happen again.

  "The gates are starting to give way!"

  Terenas shook his head as if that would make the cry go away. He was too busy to see for himself, however. An orc had climbed the wall not far from where he stood watching the battle below and was advancing on him now, grinning widely enough to show its sharp tusks and swinging its heavy warhammer in slow arcs. Terenas reluctantly picked up a fallen sword, painfully aware that he was no fighter.

  Someone appeared at his side, and he recognized Morev with some relief. The guard commander carried a long spear, and jabbed at the orc, forcing him back. "You should go see the gates, sire," he said calmly, poking at the orc again. "I will handle this." On the orc's other side Terenas could see several other guards approaching, two of them also armed with spears.

  Accepting that he was no longer needed here, Terenas gratefully laid down the sword and turned away. He ducked down a short flight of steps within the rampart, coming out near a small guard's armory, and from there took a narrow walkway along the wall. It ended at a short stairway, and he leaped up the steps and onto the ramparts again, but now just above the main gates.

  He could feel the heavy pounding even before he reached the rampart's edge, rattling his teeth and making the stones shake. And looking down he saw them slamming a thick tree trunk against the front gates. Even from here Terenas could tell they were shuddering from each impact.

  "Shore it up," he told a young lieutenant standing nearby. "Get some men and shore up the front gates."

  "With what, sir?" the young officer asked.

  "Anything you can find," Terenas replied. He gazed out past the walls, at the untold number of orcs gathered there against him and his city. Beyond them he saw the glitter of metal on the bridge, and knew Turalyon and his forces had retreated to that distance so they could plan their next move. Terenas just hoped it was a good one.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  "We have them!" an orc shouted, and Doomhammer grinned. Victory was within his grasp! The walls of the city still stood firm no matter how many warriors he hurled at it, but the gates were beginning to buckle from their constant ramming. And once those fell, his warriors would pour into Capital City, crushing its remaining defenders and sacking the city. With this and the elven forest as bases they could spread across the rest of the continent rapidly, driving the humans back to the shores and finally into the sea. And then the land would belong to the Horde, and they could end this war and start a new life at last.

  If only the ogres were here, Doomhammer thought yet again, leaning on his hammer and watching his followers strike yet again at the city's sturdy wood and iron gates. They would have been able to scale the walls and perhaps even batter holes in the thick stone with their clubs. He wondered why Gul'dan and Cho'gall and their clans had not yet arrived. He had moved quickly across the mountains, he knew, but still they should have been here by now.

  "Doomhammer!" He glanced up and saw one of his warriors pointing toward the sky. More gryphons? he wondered with a grimace. The feathered mounts had proven deadly in the forests of the Hinterlands, and equally so at Quel'Thalas. He had only seen a handful here so far, and one had flown to the castle and back but had not otherwise participated in the battle. But still he was wary. The Wildhammer dwarves were strong and sturdy, their mounts fast, and their stormhammers as deadly as the warhammers of his own people. They were not a foe to be taken lightly, despite their small stature, and if more were arriving he would need to be ready.

  But the dark shape silhouetted against the clouds grew larger and larger, too long and sinuous for a gryphon, and Doomhammer heard many of his warriors cheer as its shadow fell across them. A dragon! That was good news! The massive beast could use its flames against the gates, and to clear the castle walls of defenders. The city was as good as theirs!

  The dragon landed well clear of the lake, a large orc dropping from the saddle on its back as soon as it had set down, and Doomhammer strode forward, slinging his hammer back on his back.

  "Where is Doomhammer?" the dragon rider was demanding. "I must speak with him!"

  "I am here," Doomhammer answered, his warriors parting to let him pass. "What is it?"

  The rider turned to face him and Doomhammer realized he had seen the warrior before. He was one of Zuluhed's favorites, a powerful warrior, who according to reports, had been one of the first to dare ride the still—rebellious dragons. Torgus, yes, that was his name.

  "I bring a message from Zuluhed," Torgus announced, a strange expression on his broad face—Doomhammer saw anger there, and confusion, and also possibly shame and even fear.

  "Tell me, then," Doomhammer replied, stepping close enough that he was within the circle of the dragon's tail as it lay coiled upon the battlefield. The other orcs nearby, recognizing this warning, backed away to give them privacy.

  "It is Gul'dan," Torgus said. He was a big orc, as tall as Doomhammer himself, but would not look him in the eye. "He has fled."

  "What?" And now Doomhammer understood the fear on the dragon rider's face, as he felt his blood boil with rage and his hands grip his hammer tight enough to make the wooden handle groan in protest. "When? How?"

  "Shortly after you left," Torgus admitted. "Cho'gall is with him. They have the Twilight's Hammer and Stormreaver clans. They have launched the boats back into the Great Sea and are sailing south." Now he did look up, and the fear was dominated by rage. "One of my clansmen spotted them and flew down to ask why they were going the wrong way. Gul'dan killed him, used his foul magic on him. I saw it happen! I wanted to go after them but knew Zuluhed must be told. And he ordered me to come here at once."

  Doomhammer nodded. "You did right," he assured the dragon rider. "If Gul'dan killed your clanmate he would not have hesitated to kill you as well, and then we would not have known of his treachery." His lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Damn him! I knew he could not be trusted! And now he has taken the ships with him!"

  "We can fly after him," Torgus offered. "Zuluhed said he would have the other dragon riders ready. We could burn the ships to ash, and every orc on them."

  Doomhammer frowned. "Yes, but only if you can get close enough. Gul'dan's magic is strong, and Cho'gall is powerful as well." He smashed his hammer into the ground. "I knew those Altars he created would be a problem! And I let him transform the ogres into new warriors to fill out his own ranks!" Doomhammer bit down hard on his lip, punishing himself for his own stupidity. He had been so excited about having new weapons for the war against the humans that he had ignored his own instincts, which had warned him the warlock would only do things for his own purposes.

  Torgus was still awaiting an order, but both of them turned as another orc came running up. It was Tharbek, Doomhammer's young Blackrock second, and he stopped just beyond the dragon's tail, which was flicking in annoyance.

  "Yes?"

  "There is a problem," Tharbek informed him bluntly. "The mountains are closed."

  "What?" Doomhammer turned and stared out past the dragon, toward the Alterac Mountains. Sure enough, he could see that the steady dark stream of orcs flowing from t
he southern passes had stopped. "What has happened?"

  Tharbek shook his head. "I do not know," he replied. "But we are no longer able to get through the passes. I have sent warriors back to scout the way but they have not returned." His expression made it clear that they should have been back by now.

  "Damn it!" Doomhammer ground his teeth together. "That human betrayed us! I knew one who would sell out his own race could not be trusted!" Still, he had thought the cloaked man too frightened to turn against them. Either the Alliance had shown superior strength, or they had threatened him with something more immediate than Horde domination—or they had discovered his treachery and removed him from whatever position he had held that had enabled him to control those passes. Yes, the last was the most likely. The man had seemed too eager to negotiate to back out now, especially since there would still be Horde warriors nearby. He had been caught and removed, and others now controlled that mountain region.

  That did not change the results, however. "How many orcs are trapped up there?" he demanded.

  Tharbek shrugged. "Impossible to say," he pointed out. "But at least half the clan, if not more." He glanced around. "We still have many warriors here," he said. "And once Gul'dan and the others arrive we will have more."

  Doomhammer laughed bitterly, his mind still reeling. "The others! The others are not coming!" Tharbek looked surprised. "Gul'dan has betrayed us," Doomhammer told his second, barely able to force out the words. "He has taken the ships, and the two clans with them, to the Great Sea."

  "But why?" Tharbek asked, genuinely bewildered. "If we lose this war we will all be without a home, him included."

  Doomhammer shook his head. "The war was never his first priority." His thoughts flickered back to his encounter with the warlock back in Stormwind, and what Gul'dan had said. "He has found something else, something powerful," he remembered dully. "Something that will make him strong enough to not need the Horde for protection."

  "What will we do?" Tharbek asked. He looked over at the city beyond them, studying it anew. "We may not have enough warriors to take it now," he pointed out.

  Doomhammer refused to look, but knew his second was right. The city had proven sturdier than expected, and its defenders fiercer. The attack from behind by the Alliance forces had also taken them by surprise and had reduced their numbers by a large portion. And now they could no longer expect reinforcements from any direction.

  But that was not the only matter weighing on him. Gul'dan's treachery was bad enough, but he had taken other orcs with him. They were setting their own goals above those of the Horde, their own selfish desires above the needs of their people. That was what had driven Doomhammer to kill Blackhand and take control in the first place, and he had vowed to end the corruption and restore his people's honor. This betrayal could not be allowed to stand unanswered. No matter what it cost them. Or him.

  "Rend! Maim!" Doomhammer bellowed. The Blackhand brothers heard him and approached quickly, perhaps realizing from his tone that they Warchief would brook no delay.

  "Take your Black Tooth Grin south," Doomhammer instructed them, remembering the maps his scouts had drawn with the trolls' help. "March back along the lake and from there through the Hillsbrad to the sea. Gul'dan has fled but he would not have needed all the boats, not with only two clans. The rest of our ships should still be there, waiting." He grimaced, showing his tusks. "Pursue the traitors and destroy them to the last orc, leaving their bodies to sink into the water's depths."

  "But—this city!" Rend protested. "The war!"

  "Our people's honor is at stake!" Doomhammer bellowed, raising his hammer to attack position and growling at the other chieftain, silently daring him to defy the orders. "We must not allow them to go unpunished!" He glared at the Blackhands. "Consider this a chance to regain your honor." Then he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "I will lead my clan south more slowly, blocking the Alliance from following you and wreaking havoc across the land as we go. We will keep the route open, all the way back to this city. We will return here afterward," he assured them, "and finish what we started." Though even he had his doubts about that. They had caught the city by surprise this time. That would not happen again.

  The Blackhands nodded, though they did not look happy. "It shall be as you say," Maim agreed, and he and his brother turned away to give orders to their warriors.

  Doomhammer turned back to Torgus, who had stood nearby, waiting. "Tell Zuluhed to send all dragons to the Great Sea," he instructed the dragon rider. "Fly as fast as you can. You will have your chance to avenge your clanmate's death."

  Torgus nodded, grinning at the thought of revenge, and turned back to his dragon, leaving Doomhammer to step back and allow the massive creature room to spread its colossal wings and take flight again. Doomhammer watched them fly away and ground his teeth again, his hands shaking with shock and rage. He had been so close! Another day at most and the city would have been his! Now that chance was gone. His odds of winning this war were slim at best. But honor had to come first.

  Teron Gorefiend was standing nearby, and Doomhammer rounded on the death knight. "What of you, then, you rotting corpse?" Doomhammer demanded of the creature. "You followed Gul'dan once, and he has betrayed us all. Will you run to him now?"

  The undead warrior stared at him for a moment with those glowing eyes, then shook his head. "Gul'dan has forsaken our people," Gorefiend replied. "We shall not. The Horde is all, and it retains our loyalty—as do you, as long as you lead it."

  Doomhammer nodded brusquely, surprised by the creature's response. "Then go and protect our people as they retreat from the city," he ordered. Gorefiend obeyed, stalking away toward the other death knights and their undead steeds. Tharbek departed as well. For the moment, Doomhammer was alone.

  "Gul'dan!" he shouted, raising his hammer high and shaking it at the heavens. "You will die for this! I will see that you suffer for betraying our race and risking our very survival!" The skies did not answer, but Doomhammer felt a little better for the proclamation. He lowered his hammer and turned back toward the war, already forcing himself to think about how best to lead his warriors down south, and how to get the rest of the Horde toward the sea.

  Gul'dan leaned out over the prow and sniffed the sea air. He closed his eyes and allowed his mystical senses dominance, questing with his mind for the distinctive tang of magic. It hit him almost at once, so strong he could taste it like the metallic flavor of fresh blood, so powerful it made his skin tingle and his hair crackle.

  "Stop!" he shouted over his shoulder, and behind him the clansmen stopped rowing. The boat halted immediately, sitting stock—still on the water, and Gul'dan smiled. "We are here," he announced.

  "But—but there's nothing here," one of the orcs, a member of his own Stormreaver clan named Drak'thul, declared. Gul'dan turned, opening his eyes at last, and glared at the young orc warlock.

  "No?" He grinned. "Then we will weight you with chains and send you down to the sea bottom to explore it for us. Or would you prefer to sit here and trust that I know what I am doing?" Drak'thul backed away, stammering an apology, but Gul'dan was already ignoring him. Instead he glanced across the water to the boat next to his, and to Cho'gall standing near its prow.

  "Inform the others," Gul'dan told his lieutenant. "We will begin at once. Doomhammer may already have learned of our departure, and I do not want to risk him interrupting us before we reach our goal."

  The two—headed ogre nodded and turned to shout at the next boat, which then relayed the message to the boat beyond it. Ropes were tossed across and soon the ogre magi and the orc necromancers were climbing into Gul'dan's ship, using the ropes to pull themselves across or guide them while they swam, depending up their skill and comfort in the water.

  "The place we seek, an ancient temple, lays below us," Gul'dan explained when all his warlocks had gathered on the deck before him. "And we could attempt to swim down to them, but I do not know how deep the waters are here. Plus it would
be dark and cold and not to my liking." He grinned. "Instead we will raise the land itself, bringing the temple to us."

  "Can that be done?" one of the new ogre magi asked.

  "It can," Gul'dan replied. "Not so long ago on our homeworld we orcs raised another landmass, a volcano in Shadowmoon Valley. I guided the Shadow Council then and I will guide us now." He waited for other questions or objections but there were none and he nodded, pleased. His new subordinates was not only stronger than the old but more obedient, two traits he heartily appreciated.

  "When shall we begin?" Cho'gall finally asked.

  "Right now," Gul'dan answered. "Why wait?" He turned and led the way to the ship's railing, his assistants ranging themselves to either side of him. Then he closed his eyes and began to reach out toward the power he felt resting deep below. It was easy to grasp and once he had a firm grip upon it Gul'dan began to tug, magically pulling the energy and its source toward him. At the same time he reached out with his mind and cast his magic upon the power's surroundings, lifting them as well. The sky darkened overhead, and the sea around them turned rough.

  "I have it," he told his aides through clenched teeth. "Home in on my magic and you will feel it yourself. Pour your own energies into what I have already constructed, and lift with me. Now!"

  He felt the shift as first Cho'gall and then the others added their power to his own. A deep red hue suffused the sky and thunder clapped overhead as a hard rain fell and heavy waves rocked the boat. The vast weight he had felt grew lighter, and the tugging became significantly easier. It was still a chore, but now it was bearable instead of excruciating. And with each tug the magic's presence grew stronger and his grasp upon it became firmer, as did his hold on the land around it. All of nature fought against them, but they held firm.

  For hours they stood there, unmoving in the eyes of the assembled warriors but engaged in an active struggle against titanic forces. Water drenched them from above and below. Thunder deafened them. Lightning blinded them. The boats were tossed about and warriors clutched at their oars to keep their seats. Several glanced at Gul'dan and the other warlocks for instructions, but none of them moved even when the ship lurched alarmingly.