"You don't understand," Ragnok continued. He stepped up closer to Fenris. "We got the scepter; we should get the Eye of Sargeras as well. Do you remem­ber when I was confused earlier? It was because I was sensing both artifacts! It took me a moment to realize what was going on. But I know exactly where the Eye of Sargeras is now — down that other corridor. That was the artifact Gul'dan sought, and now it's within our grasp!"

Ragnok's glowing eyes narrowed in fury. "Pitiful things. I could destroy you with a mere thought! You will come with me to retrieve the Eye or—"

"Or what?" Fenris spat. "Go ahead. Kill us where we stand, and go back alone for the Eye. Either way, we will be dead." He was mostly sure that the death knight was bluffing, but he stood by his decision. Rag­nok might kill them in a fit of anger. But whatever was sure to be guarding the Eye would most definitely kill them.

Ragnok lilted his hands and tor a moment Fenris's heart stopped. But then the death knight sagged; he had been bluffing after all.

"You are fools," Ragnok growled, but his voice was laced with defeat.

"Maybe," Fenris agreed, "But we are fools who will live to see another day." Without another word he turned. His clan followed him, as did Tagar and his orcs. It was only with the smallest satisfaction that a few moments later, he noticed that Ragnok had again joined them.

"Do you have it?"

Fenris dismounted, sliding off the dragon's back and planting both feet solidly on the cracked ground, then met Gorefiend's stare as the death knight hurried to­ward them. The dragons had been waiting for the orcs when their boats had reached land again, and had quickly carried them back into the Blasted Lands to re­join Gorefiend and the others.

"Yes, we have it," Fenris confirmed, holding up the long cloth-wrapped scepter. He handed it to Gorefiend, happy to be rid of it. "What now?"

"Now we make haste back through the portal," Gorefiend answered. Fenris suppressed a shudder as Gorefiend's hands closed about the bundle protectively. "Our tasks here are finished. Azeroth is no longer important to us. We'll leave this world to the humans and their allies, and good riddance."

Fenris started to ask for more detail, but a loud rum­bling stopped him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw several large carts rolling into the valley, orcs guiding each one. Remembering the discussion back in the Blackrock Mountains, he realized those must contain the cargo Deathwing had asked them to allow through the portal. He wondered idly what could be so impor­tant the black dragon wanted it moved to another world, but resigned himself to likely never knowing.

Another orc, though, was more curious than Fenris. He started to approach one of the carts. Before Fenris could even draw breath to shout out a warning, a dark shape swooped from the skies. The orc screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching at his face. Blood dripped from between his fingers.

'Get back!" Fenris cried. "Stay away from the carts!"

The dragons that had borne the orcs here now took to the skies to defend the cargo, some of them not waiting to make sure their riders had completely dis­mounted.

"Goreflend!" came a voice Fenris recognized. That scream could belong to no one other than the Warsong chieftain. Grom Hellscream had clearly been with the forces harassing the Alliance troops at Nethergarde Keep and had just returned with them. He was still halfway across the valley, but they heard him clearly. “Did you bring these creatures?"

"I did!" Gorefiend replied, not raising his voice but his words carrying nonetheless. "The black dragons are our new allies!"

Grom ducked as a black dragon's claws slid by dan­gerously close to his head, and scowled. "Some allies!" he shouted. "Do something about your winged friends before they cause a panic — or kill us all!'"

The death knight glanced up at the dragons, study­ing them a moment. Then he nodded. "Deathwing!" he called. "I swear to you that I will defend those carts and their cargo! Please pull your dragons back to the valley's edge!"

Fenris couldn't pick the dragon elder out among all the shifting, gliding shapes, but a moment later the dragons wheeled and made for perches along the cliffs ringing the valley floor.

"Better," Grom grunted, approaching them. He nodded at Fenris, who nodded back — the two of them had always gotten along. Fenris considered Grom one of the finest chieftains in the Horde, and a superb war­rior as well.

"Did you get what you needed?" Grom asked them both.

"We did," Gorefiend replied. He didn't say anything further. Grom peered at the carts.

"What are those?" Grom asked.

"Cargo," Gorefiend replied shortly. Each cart was made of sturdy wood beams, had high sides, and was completely covered with a thick tarp. Fenris could see from the way the tarp shifted that the carts were full, but could discern nothing more.

"I thought all we had to retrieve were those arti­facts," Grom said.

"There has been a change of plans," the death knight answered. "Nothing to worry about." He raised his voice and must have worked some magic as well, because suddenly it echoed across the valley. "Those carts are under my personal protection, and anyone who interferes with them — or tries to look in them — will answer to me." Several orcs glanced up, startled, and two who had been approaching the rear cart hastily backed away.

Fenris shrugged. His task was done, and if Gorefiend wanted to play some other game that was between him and Ner'zhul. "How soon can we go through?" he asked instead.

"I need some of your clan to stay behind and defend the portal for a short time longer. You and the rest can go through now, if you like," Gorefiend answered. "Tagar, you too. I need some of your Bonechewers."

Fenris frowned, but nodded. He had hoped all his clan would be allowed to return, but he understood Gorefiend's reasoning.

"What of us?" Grom was asking Gorefiend, but Fen­ris turned away. The Warsong's orders were not his concern right now. Instead he signaled his second, Malgrim Stormhand, and together they selected twelve orcs to stay behind under Malgrim's command. The orcs did not protest. They were Thunderlords; they served the Horde as asked.

"To the portal!" The rest of the Thunderlord clan marched across the valley floor and approached the towering new Dark Portal. Just ahead of them were the covered carts, and Fenris saw several death knights de­tach themselves from the forces positioned around the valley and step up beside those mysterious vehicles. Gorefiend was there as well, near the front.

Fenris heard Tagar yelling at his Bonechewers, try­ing to divvy them up, and the roars of ogres as they were promised combat. "Me smash!" one of them cried gleefully. The entire Warsong clan, too, would stay, judging from the comments he heard. The portal would be amply protected. Part of him thought he should remain as well, but another part of him was deeply weary and longed for home. Later, perhaps, he would return with fresh orcs to relieve those he had stationed here.

Fenris hastened up the ramp and faced the Dark Portal itself. The portal still made him nervous, with its strange rippling energy. It disturbed him that some­thing so small — he could easily walk around the portal; it wasn't even as wide as the thick stone columns fram­ing it — could form a bridge between two separate worlds. He kept half-expecting the portal to fail some­how, to collapse and tear apart anyone caught within it. The thought made him pick up his pace, and he ran through it, feeling the strange jarring sensation he'd noticed when he'd left Draenor, as if his body were being shunted a great distance. A cold prickle ran across his skin and a brief flash crossed his eyes, then he was staring at the familiar red skies of Draenor again. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief and continued on away from the portal, stopping finally to allow the rest of his clan to catch up.