Gul'dan's suspicions were correct. As a traitor, Orgrim had indeed sent people to hunt him down.
After returning to the main Horde camp in the Arathi Highlands, Orgrim finally heard from Saurfang about the "good deed" Gul'dan had done.
Leading the forces that had fled with him, Gul'dan somehow returned to the Arathi Highlands camp ahead of Orgrim, how he managed it, Orgrim couldn't understand. Perhaps he had used some sort of sorcery.
Once back at camp, the cunning warlock claimed he had broken through the siege and returned to request reinforcements.
He said he needed to lead a detachment to support the Hammer of Destruction, which was surrounded by the Alliance.
Using this as his excuse, he quietly led the Stormreaver Clan away under the guise of that mission, and disappeared without a trace.
Soon after, another report came from the Horde's dock in the Wetlands: Gul'dan, along with the Stormreaver warriors, had returned there, seized several remaining warships, and sailed westward.
Naturally, Orgrim wasn't going to let such betrayal go unpunished. He wanted Gul'dan captured and brought back to face retribution.
However, with the limited forces in the Arathi Highlands, barely enough to hold off the Alliance, they had no strength to spare for chasing down Gul'dan and the Stormreavers.
In the end, Orgrim entrusted the mission to two who had remained in the rear: Rend Blackhand and Maim Blackhand, the Blackhand brothers.
The two brothers accepted the mission eagerly. They led the warriors of the Black Tooth Grin Clan, a splinter group that had broken off from the Blackrock Clan, and set sail in pursuit of Gul'dan.
Western seas of the Eastern Kingdoms – aboard the Blackhand brothers' ships
"I see them!" a warrior shouted. "They're on that island over there!"
Rend Blackhand, one of the two chieftains of the Black Tooth Grin, looked toward the direction the orc pointed.
It was the same region where they had earlier seen the seas and storms raging like mad.
Ahead, on the island, a light drizzle was falling. Looking westward, dark figures could be seen gathering.
"Good," Rend said, nodding and tightening his grip on the handle of his battle axe.
"Full speed ahead," he ordered his men. "I want us on them before they find a place to hide."
On another ship, Maim gave a similar command.
"What if they use magic against us?" one of his younger warriors asked.
Many others nodded in agreement. This was their greatest fear, greater even than being captured by the Alliance or devoured by the black dragons of Blackrock Mountain. Rend couldn't really say they were wrong to be afraid.
He himself did not agree with attacking Gul'dan and his followers.
But this was a direct order from the Warchief.
No matter how much resentment he held toward the chieftain, until the day he had the strength to overthrow him, Rend could only carry out the command with all his might, even if it meant certain death.
"Their magic is indeed powerful," Rend admitted.
"Gul'dan himself can kill three or four of us within minutes. But he needs time, or he needs to be physically close, or have something from his victim that he can use."
At this point, he deliberately forced a smile.
"Has anyone among you loaned our chief warlock a waterskin, a pair of iron gloves, or a sharpening stone recently?"
The quip got the reaction he wanted, his warriors chuckled, the tension slightly lifted.
"So, when we face these warlocks, we avoid giving them space. Don't let them widen the gap, and definitely don't let them get close. Surround them before they can cast a single spell."
He tapped the blade of his axe for emphasis.
"Without their spells, they're just orcs like us. They bleed. They die.
It's no different than the ogre hunts back home, those brutes were stronger than us too, but we still brought them down in groups, wearing them out and finishing them off."
His warriors nodded. They understood what Rend was saying. Now, in their eyes, spells were merely another type of weapon, not something to fear irrationally.
But only Rend knew the truth: Gul'dan was not that simple. In addition to long-range fel attacks, life-draining touch, and cursed hexes, he possessed far more terrifying powers.
If they had known that Gul'dan and his warlocks had just raised an entire island from the sea through sheer magical force, they would never have dared to make such naive assumptions.
"We're almost there," the helmsman announced.
Rend looked back over the ship's railing.
The island had suddenly appeared on the side. Judging by the ship's size in comparison, it was enormous, far larger than most of the islands he had ever seen in this world.
Many rowboats had already landed on the shore. Rend could clearly see orcs leaping out and stepping onto the dark, damp landmass.
Suppressing his emotions, he gave the final command.
"Prepare to land. Once we're ashore, target the warlocks. Kill anyone or anything that stands in our way!"
"We've got company."
Cho'gall pointed to a direction and spoke to Gul'dan.
Their small boats had just made landfall on the coast of the newly risen island.
Since it had been lifted forcefully by magic, the ground still trembled now and then. Though the steam had mostly dissipated, bursts of fire and lava still erupted occasionally.
Gul'dan followed the direction indicated by his assistant. A fleet was approaching the island from afar.
From the lead ship's motion, Gul'dan could tell it was powered by oars, a clear sign of who it belonged to: orcs.
Which meant... the Hammer of Destruction's forces had caught up with them.
"That damned brute," Gul'dan cursed. "Why does he always make decisions so quickly? If they'd been even a day later, we could have completed everything."
He sighed.
"No choice now. Tell the warriors to prepare for battle. You must hold them off until I reach the temple and retrieve the artifact."
Cho'gall grinned, both of his faces.
"With pleasure."
The massive two-headed ogre, like the rest of his clan, was fanatical, utterly convinced that the world would eventually be engulfed in blood and violence.
In fact, every member of the Twilight's Hammer shared this belief.
They would fight anyone, anything, to bring about that final fate. The demon blood they drank on Draenor had only amplified their natural bloodlust a hundredfold.
"They won't get past us," the ogre assured, pounding his fists together with relish.
"Good." Gul'dan nodded.
Then, turning his back, he carefully ventured deeper into the island.
Each step he took hissed with bursts of steam. Drak'thul and the other orc and ogre warlocks closely followed him into the shadows of the risen land.
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