Aaron Rosenberg - Tides of Darkness

"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.

Then a gout of fire and smoke erupted from the heaving water a short way ahead of the lead ship, filling the air with fire and ash and steam. Through the gritty, burning air they could see something poking up through the water like a chick's beak piercing its egg. The something proved to be rock, and as the warriors watched, too stunned to do more than blink and gasp, it grew larger, rising rapidly from the waves as water and lava dripped down and off it. The small rock became a boulder, the boulder became a small plateau, the plateau became a wide ledge, and the ledge became a small rocky plain. Other shapes emerged as well, rising from the tumultuous sea a short ways from the first, but they all proved to be connected, and as the sea spilled away from it the orcs could see an entire island emerging from the sea's grasp, still spouting flames and dirt and steam. A second, smaller island followed, grinding as it shifted to the surface, and then a third and a fourth.