"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.

At last, as the sky overhead shifted from swirling crimson to a mere leaden gray and the waves dropped to heights only as great as a tall ship's mast, Gul'dan opened his eyes. He staggered slightly and leaned against the railing for support, as did a few of his warlocks. But he glanced out over the new island chain, still steaming from the heat of its rapid ascent and still growling and groaning as it settled into a new configuration, and smiled.

"Soon," he said softly, looking upon the land and feeling it with his mind, noting the location of the place he sought. "Soon I will stride across you to the temple I seek, and the great prize that lies within it."

"I see them!" a warrior shouted. "There they are, off those islands!"

Rend Blackhand, one of Black Tooth Grin clan's two chieftans, looked where the other orc had pointed, near the place where they had seen the sea and air rolling madly as they approached. At last he saw the thin spit of land ahead and to the west, and the dark shapes alongside it. "Good," he said, nodding and resting his hands against the handle of his axe. "Increase speed," he told his drummer. "I want to reach them before they have a chance to disappear into some hideout there." On one of the other boats he saw his brother Maim speak to his own drummer, no doubt giving similar instructions.

"What will we do if they use magic against us?" one of his younger warriors asked. Several others nodded agreement. It was their single greatest fear, even beyond being captured by the Alliance and being eaten by a dragon, and Rend could hardly fault them for their concern. He was not thrilled with the idea of battling Gul'dan and his cronies. Doomhammer had given them an order, however, and the Blackhand name was at stake. Rend intended to carry that out—or die trying.

"Their magic is potent," he admitted now, "and Gul'dan himself could easily kill three or four of us within minutes. But he needs those minutes. And he needs physical contact, or to be close by, or to have something that belongs to the intended victim." He grinned. "Did any of you loan the chief warlock a waterskin or a pair of gauntlets or a sharpening stone?" That got chuckles from several, just as he'd hoped. "Then just steer clear of the warlocks until we are across, do not let them close to you, and swarm over them before they can cast any spells." He tapped his axe for emphasis. "Despite their powers they are still orcs, and they can still bleed and die. This is no different from hunting an ogre back home—each of them may be stronger than any one or even two of us but we can wear them down and attack in groups and prevent them from fighting back." His warriors nodded. They understood the concept, and now that they were thinking of magic as just another weapon it was no longer as frightening.

"Almost there," the helmsman announced then, and Rend glanced behind him, past the edge of his ship. The island now loomed up along one side, and Rend could tell from the size of the ships that this new land was big, bigger than most of the islands he had already seen on this world. The boats had gone from specks to full—fledged ships, and he could clearly see orcs pouring off them and onto the dark, damp land. Rend repressed the snarl he had felt building in the back of his throat and gave the order: "Prepare to land! Once we do, aim for those warlocks. And kill anyone—anything—that gets in our way."

"We are not alone," Cho'gall pointed out to Gul'dan. Their boat had finally beached on the shore of the new island, which still shuddered and threw off steam and occasional belches of fire and lava.

Gul'dan followed his assistant's gesture and saw a fleet of ships approaching from the far side of the island. His island. From the way the lead boat moved Gul'dan could tell it was rowed rather than sailed, and that usually meant one thing: orcs. Doomhammer's troops had found them.