After a great deal of traveling, Gar'dak finally reached the gates of Mithosak leading to the outside. The guardians of the gate did a double take at the orc, surprised at the sudden appearance of an outsider within the city. One of the minotaurs, dressed in slightly more ornate armor than the others and wielding a huge lance, walked towards the orc and immediately ordered him to stop.
The minotaur looked Gar'dak up and down with a suspicious and insulting glare and immediately began questioning the orc in a derogatory tone. "What are you doing in here? Filth belongs outside the city."
Gar'dak clenched his teeth in anger and restrained the urge to chop the guard into little bits. "I am the new commander of your armies, as dictated by your most ancient traditions. I've been instructed not to cause any trouble, but I doubt anyone would care if one guard ended up with an axe in his back."
The guard captain seemed to be on the verge of exploding, and he was about to make a sharp retort when another guard walked up to the captain and whispered something into his ear. As the captain listened, his expression shifted from furious rage to a mixture of fear and doubt. Then the other guard returned to his position, and the captain grudgingly bowed his head to the orc. "My apologies, noble one," those last words were said reluctantly in a bitter tone, "your soldiers wait for you outside. I will send one of the guards to escort you."
Gar'dak waved his hand in dismissal. "I have no need for protection to return to my own troops. I believe I can take care of myself traveling fifty feet outside your gate." Leaving the sputtering guard captain behind him, he marched out of the gate and quickly crossed the distance to the orcish camp.
The tents were arranged in a dense formation, efficiently organized to take up as little room as possible while still providing enough room for the troops to maneuver. The darkly colored tents and harsh cries from the area contrasted vividly with the serene countryside surrounding the camp. As he approached, the random shouts and haphazard banging sounds of the forge shifted to a great cry of celebration, and his troops began to emerge from their tents and gather to welcome their commander.
Gar'dak looked upon his soldiers with a great sense of pride and joy for a few moments, and then he lifted his axe high into the air in a signal of triumph. All of the orcs, ogres, and trolls raised a thunderous uproar. Gar'dak soon caught sight of Bul'ghaz, and they grasped each other's arms in greeting. The soldiers soon returned to their individual tasks, and Gar'dak walked with his advisor through the camp. As they strode through the camp, Gar'dak noted the efficiency of his troops with satisfaction. Eventually they reached the command tent, and as they walked in Gar'dak felt as if all the strain and effort of the past few days were melting away. He sat down on his cot and let out a deep breath, expelling the tension throughout his entire body. After a few moments of silent thought, he looked up at Bul'ghaz, who was staring at him with an odd expression.
Unable to understand why Bul'ghaz looked so bewildered, Gar'dak finally asked, "What's wrong?"
Bul'ghaz, seeming to come out of a daze, shook his head. "It's nothing. You just seem somehow changed. It's as if a great burden has been lifted from you."
Gar'dak grinned. "A lot has happened over the past couple of days. The important thing is that I succeeded, and the minotaurs are ours."
Bul'ghaz nodded. "That was the impression I got when a couple of their priests visited the camp."
"What did they say?"
"Nothing, they just told me you passed a test and gave me a map of the countryside. They didn't tell me why they gave me the map or even when you'd be coming out. The troops weren't very happy."
"Well, I'm glad you were able to keep them under control. It wouldn't help the Horde if the minotaurs joined us with a grudge."
"So, how soon are we going to get some minotaur warriors to bring back to the Horde?"
Gar'dak sighed. "Actually, we've got to do a little errand first. There's some human keep nearby that we've got to clear out. It should be on that map they gave you."
Bul'ghaz pulled a piece of parchment out of his belt and unraveled it on the table in the tent. After looking over it for a few moments, he looked up at Gar'dak and asked in a slightly disbelieving tone, "Firestorm Keep?"
Gar'dak frowned slightly. "What's the problem?"
Bul'ghaz shrugged. "No problem, but we just got some strange reports from intelligence a day or so ago about strange gnomish experiments being held there."
Gar'dak scratched his chin thoughtfully. "No telling what gnomes will come up with. That could prove to be a problem."
Bul'ghaz grinned. "Oh, I don't think it will be that bad. Gnomish inventions usually end up killing more gnomes than orcs. They're pesky little bastards, but generally harmless."
"Apparently you've never fought against dwarves armed with gnomish explosives. Damn suicidal freaks nearly wiped out an entire orcish outpost once."
Bul'ghaz opened his mouth to say more, but a chill wind silenced him, and the stench of death seemed to fill the entire tent. Both of the orcs turned to the death knight striding through the entrance. In a dark, monotone drone, the death knight Razigoth greeted the orcs. "Congratulations on your success. We welcome the spreading of more chaos and death into this world with the expansion of the Horde."
Gar'dak strained to hide his loathing of the rotting and diseased skeleton underneath the dark robe. "Thank you, dark one, although I wonder why you did not welcome me as the others did."
Razigoth's eyes flashed, but his tone did not change from its low moaning of the grave. "We were preoccupied. Our war chief wished for his daily report on our progress. When next he contacts us, I will be pleased to tell him of your victorious return."
Gar'dak smirked as he fervently wished he could see the expression on Naz'gath's face when he learned that Gar'dak had survived. Witnessing that smug expression changing to one of shock and disbelief would be worth more than everything he had seen in the palace of Mithosak. "You will also tell our war chief that we must first travel to Firestorm Keep to ensure the safety of the minotaur lands."
The death knight made no motion to indicate he had heard the command. Gar'dak, unnerved by the silent, dead stare, shifted to a different topic. "My advisor tells me that there are rumors of gnomish experiments at the keep. Is this true?"
"It is what was witnessed by one of our scouts in that area. He had to withdraw before he could actually witness the entire experiment, but his reports were of some strange creature made out of metal moving around a field, and a club that called down the power of thunder. Much of the report was dismissed as nonsense, obviously, but there may be some grain of truth to it."
Gar'dak nervously rubbed his hands together. "I don't like sending my troops into a battle without knowing what they're facing."
"I understand, but we have no other information."
"Very well. You are dismissed." Gar'dak waved his hand outside, as if he could simply make the death knight disappear. However, Razigoth made no motion and remained staring at the orc intently. As each moment passed, Gar'dak felt more and more apprehensive, until he finally was unable to avoid the death knight's gaze anymore. "What else do you need, dark one?"
The twin jade sparks within the skull seemed to dim to tiny points of light. "My lord, did the minotaurs perform any strange ceremonies or rituals on you?"
Gar'dak's eyebrows rose in surprise. "What do you mean?"
Razigoth moved closer to Gar'dak, and the orc felt overwhelmed by the scent of dirt and rotting flesh. The emerald eyes seemed to fill the orc's entire vision as they flashed intensely. "Was there anything that seemed strange? An unusual experience, an odd rite, anything?"
Immediately the experience with the demon and the shaman popped into Gar'dak's head, and he felt the urge to reveal what had happened and expose the dark secret of the Horde's past. But as he looked into the eager and cunning eyes, Gar'dak shook his head, unwilling to tell anything to the demonic creature.
The death knight then backed away from the orc, bowed low, and strode out of the tent. Gar'dak could feel beads of sweat trickle down his face, and he saw Bul'ghaz looking at him with a fearful expression on his face. "They've been acting stranger and stranger the longer we've stayed here. These minotaurs are unnerving the damned somehow. Something strange is going on."
Gar'dak nodded silently, his mind still whirling with the sheer terror that he had felt as he had stared into those empty eye-sockets. After spending a few moments composing himself, the orc rose from his cot and walked towards the outside. "We should get ready. We're going to have a visitor soon."
Bul'ghaz quickly went to Gar'dak's side, following him as he walked through the camp once again. "Who?"
"I've been given a bodyguard from the minotaurs. He's a weird one who may not take well to be ordered around, but he's the best fighter I've seen in years. You should have seen how he fought in the arena. It was incredible."
"The arena?"
"Minotaur politics are very odd." Gar'dak then proceeded to explain the entire experience, from his series of tests, to his meeting with the high council (excluding his conversation with the shaman, since Gar'dak was not ready to tell anyone the truth about the Burning Legion just yet), the townspeople of Mithosak, the battle in the arena, and the experience in the hospital. As Gar'dak told the long story, the two orcs traveled among the different sections of the camp, explaining to all the soldiers that a minotaur was going to be traveling with them and that he was to be treated as one of the commander's honored guests.
Gar'dak hoped that would be enough to keep the minotaur alive, but somehow he knew that the champion's innate pride and the orcs' short tempers would be difficult to manage together.
Finally, after completing the preparations for the champion's arrival as well as his story, Gar'dak and Bul'ghaz were informed that the minotaur had arrived and was waiting right outside the camp. Both got there just as a large group of trolls appeared and began to angrily march towards the minotaur. Gar'dak inwardly groaned as he remembered the trolls' grudge against the minotaurs for capturing and binding them so easily a few nights ago. All he could do now was try to avoid total anarchy and prevent any bloodshed.
Then he saw a small, aged troll hobble forward with a walking stick out of the crowd of trolls. A large, muscular troll carrying a double-edged spear silently glided across the ground behind him with a solemn expression. Both of the trolls approached the minotaur as Gar'dak silently cursed. These trolls were new breeds within the Horde, emerging out of the forests of Quel'thalas. They said some unknown force was destroying the forests, and since they had nowhere else to go, they enlisted in the Horde.
The old one was one of those strange troll mages, a self proclaimed witch doctor. He looked ancient, perhaps older than the Great Shaman of the minotaurs. His wrinkled, seemingly vacant face hid a great deal of wisdom. It was rumored they practiced something called voodoo, calling down curses on their enemies with dark magic. Whatever the case, their expertise with healing herbs was appreciated, so the Horde had welcomed them happily. The other one was an unknown sort of warrior. He was tall and muscular, though the minotaur beat him in both ways. He could move very quickly, as Gar'dak had once seen him run down a stag within 50 feet. Nicknamed shadow hunters by the grunts, because of their ability to move silently and track any target, their capabilities and fighting style were new to the Horde. Gar'dak had hoped he would get a better understanding of this new type of troll in a battle, but for now he was completely in the dark as to why the troll was here and what he had to do with the minotaur.
The older troll tapped Beryl with his stick, trying to get his attention. "Hey, big bull. We got thing to talk about, yah?"
The minotaur made no sign that he noticed, staring straight at Gar'dak with an annoyed expression. Finally, the bigger troll moved so that he was looking directly into Beryl's eyes, although he was at least a foot shorter than the minotaur. "You better listen when smart guy talk. We no like disrespect."
Beryl, rolling his eyes in exasperation, looked down at the witch doctor. "What do you want?"
The watch doctor grinned, showing a row of empty gums and rotting teeth. "These guys," he gestured towards the crowd of trolls muttering behind him, "they got problem. You bulls make them shamed. Is no good. Must make forgiveness."
Again, with an impatient tone, Beryl asked, "What do you want?"
"We want you fight him," the witch doctor pointed towards the shadow hunter behind him. "You win, we know you worthy. We win, we know you got lucky. Either way, we happy, you happy, no problem, yah?"
Beryl quickly glanced at Gar'dak for help, but the orc could do nothing but shrug. He didn't want to put the minotaur in danger, but he couldn't afford to have his trolls have a grudge against his bodyguard either. He could only hope that Beryl would emerge from the fight alive. Beryl turned back to the witch doctor and accepted the challenge.
The witch doctor nodded eagerly. "That good, that good. We have fight tomorrow, after much stop. Then we know truth. Good luck, bull." With those words, the wrinkled troll turned and walked back into the camp, followed by the shadow hunter who grinned fiercely at the minotaur before leaving. The entire group of trolls separated and disappeared back into the camp, and Gar'dak could almost believe that the strange challenge had never happened.
The champion quickly turned back to the orc and swiftly crossed the distance between them. As Beryl stood before him, Gar'dak kept getting the distinct impression that he was regarded as less than an ant in the minotaur's eyes, which wasn't helped by the fact that he towered over the orc.
"I'm sorry about that, but the trolls have been holding a grudge ever since the minotaurs got the drop on them a couple of days ago. I didn't realize that you would become the focus of their aggression."
Beryl shrugged. "It will come to nothing. You do not have to worry about my well-being."
Gar'dak nodded, although he still wondered if the minotaur was perhaps a bit too self-confident. These new troll warriors were unlike anything Gar'dak had seen before. He hoped that Beryl would be prepared.
After Beryl was brought to his tent and informed of the marching lay ahead, Gar'dak made preparations for the troops' departure the next day. He worked long into the night, and when he finally collapsed onto his cot, he slept a dreamless and restful sleep.
***
As the sun lazily rose the next day, the orcish force began its long march to Firestorm Keep. Gar'dak, surrounded by grunts and trolls, marched in the middle of the path to the keep. The soldiers stared warily at the minotaur marching next to their commander, and an oppressive silence seemed to fill the area. The rhythmic stomping of feet on the beaten earth only enhanced the uneasy silence. Eventually, Gar'dak entered a sort of trance, walking ahead without really feeling it, giving him the chance to think about all the events of the past few days. The orc was still puzzling over how to ensure Beryl's safety in the upcoming fight with the berserker when a scout returned, gasping for breath and demanding to receive the commander's attention.
"Humans! Dozens of them, up the trail. They're not far away, we have to get ready!"
Gar'dak instantly motioned for the soldiers to move off the trail and hide in the woods, preparing a standard ambush. Beryl, however, felt uneasy about using such an unfair and deceitful trick. "Allow me to talk to them and send them on their way. There is no need to alert the humans to your presence here and give an unnecessary alarm to the keep."
Gar'dak scratched his chin in thought. "All right, go ahead. If there are new gnomish weapons in that keep, we shouldn't give them the ability to prepare for our arrival." He ordered his soldiers to remain in their positions, but not to attack unless he gave the appropriate signal or they were attacked themselves. Kneeling down behind a tree next to Razigoth and Bul'ghaz, he felt that both of them were looking at him with disapproval.
The orc turned to both of them defiantly and whispered, "What? Do you want to send up a red flag saying, 'We're about to attack you'?"
Bul'ghaz frowned. "I think you're listening to the minotaur’s suggestions an awful lot. I hope he's not becoming too much of an influence on you."
Razigoth stared at Gar'dak with an emotionless gaze. "I do not see why we cannot simply bring the blessing of death to these pitiful humans."
Gar'dak snorted in disgust and ignored both of their complaints. Then he heard the rhythmic trod of horses' hooves, and he motioned for silence. He saw a troop of humans, elves, and dwarves march up the path. Beryl, standing in the middle of the path, hailed the group of soldiers and they returned the greeting.
One of the humans, who was clad in majestic battle armor and wielding a long warhammer, strode forward to talk to the minotaur. "Greetings, noble warrior, we apologize for our trespass on your sacred lands. However, we seek to talk to your noble leaders and request a joining of your forces and the Alliance's. We are in great need of your help in our ongoing conflict with the Horde."
The minotaur nodded in understanding. "I understand, and I accept that you are here for a proper reason. If you follow this path to its end, you will arrive at the city of Mithosak, where you will be able to talk to our noble lords and our great emperor, who will discuss whether or not an alliance is prudent at this point and time."
As Beryl and the human conversed, Gar'dak heard a slight hissing, like a snake poised to strike its target, and he discovered that the noise was coming from Razigoth, who was staring at the human with his eyes gleaming like twin suns. The hissing was growing louder and louder, and Gar'dak realized that it was being echoed by all the death knights throughout the forest. Too late, Gar'dak understood the problem. The human was a paladin, a sworn enemy of the undead. Simply being in the presence of the holy warrior caused the undead a great deal of pain. It would only be a matter of time before the humans noticed and discovered the troops lying in wait for them.
Suddenly, Razigoth rose from his hiding place, and with a piercing shriek of rage, unleashed his death magic straight at the paladin. The blast seemed to dissipate as it struck his form, and the human forces staggered back as the entire forest seemed to erupt with weapons and hostile beasts. For a few brief moments, the two sides stared at each other hesitantly, and then chaos erupted as a thousand battles occurred within the span of a few seconds.
And the only thought buzzing through Gar'dak's head over and over as he charged to the front to assist his troops was, "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."
