To Orgrim's surprise, the Alliance cavalry didn't catch up with them before the Horde reached Khaz Modan.
Like starving wolves chasing a powerful herd, the enemy merely kept pressing behind them, forcing their prey to keep fleeing until exhaustion overtook them, only then would they strike to kill.
Unfortunately, the Horde was simply too weakened now.
Even though Orgrim saw through their tactics, he had no choice but to obey the enemy's rhythm. Ignoring the orcs' fatigue, he pushed forward toward Khaz Modan.
At last, just before the entire force collapsed from exhaustion, the Horde finally reached Khaz Modan.
Orgrim could already see the silhouettes of orc scouts patrolling the borders of the region.
"Welcome, Doomhammer!" one of the scouts shouted. As they approached, he raised his battle axe in salute to Doomhammer.
"The Bleeding Hollow Clan welcomes you back to Khaz Modan!"
"I appreciate it," Doomhammer shouted back, raising his black stone warhammer high so the scout could easily recognize him even from a distance.
"Where are Kilrogg and the others?"
"We've set up camp in a suitable spot in the valley behind," the scout replied, then jumped down to a lower ledge to make conversation easier.
"I'll run back and let them know you've arrived."
He then lifted his gaze and looked past Doomhammer, clearly assessing the number of warriors that had followed behind.
"What about the others from the Horde?" the scout asked, puzzled.
"Dead. Most of them are dead…" Doomhammer replied bluntly, his voice heavy with sorrow.
As the scout's eyes widened in shock, Doomhammer bared his fangs.
"Also, there's an Alliance force not far behind us. Tell Kilrogg to have his warriors ready for battle."
The scout looked like he had more questions, but restrained himself due to his rank.
He saluted once more, then climbed the cliff and vanished from sight.
Orgrim nodded with satisfaction at the scout's reaction.
At least, when they prepared to strike back against the humans, they would have the Bleeding Hollow Clan by their side.
Kilrogg Deadeye, the clan's chieftain, though aged, was a cunning and formidable warrior. His clan was known for its savagery and thirst for battle.
With the remnants of his forces combined with the strength of the Bleeding Hollow, they could still stand a chance against the Alliance.
Orgrim was certain that the Alliance commanders wouldn't expect them to receive reinforcements here.
They would soon regret letting the Horde escape instead of finishing them off.
However, when he finally met Kilrogg, Doomhammer received a piece of terrible news he had never anticipated.
"We cannot go all out against them."
Doomhammer stared at Kilrogg, who shook his head slowly before giving his explanation.
"What? Why not?" Doomhammer demanded.
"Dwarves," Kilrogg answered simply.
"Dwarves?"
At first, Orgrim assumed Kilrogg meant the gryphon riders, the Wildhammer dwarves whose forces had long been a thorn in their side.
Without the support of the Dragonmaw clan and their dragons, the Horde was nearly defenseless against them.
But the Wildhammer dwarves hailed from Aerie Peak in the Hinterlands. The gryphon riders should have been with the pursuing Alliance forces in the rear.
Which meant the dwarves Kilrogg spoke of could only be the ones living in this mountain range.
The original inhabitants of Khaz Modan, the Bronzebeard dwarves.
"But we already defeated their army and drove them out of their strongholds," Orgrim said.
"Except for one place," Kilrogg corrected him, lifting his head. Both his eyes, one of which was blind and scarred, stared at Doomhammer.
"We couldn't destroy Ironforge. Every attempt cost me too many fine warriors."
Orgrim immediately recalled the failed siege of Ironforge.
"Then abandon it," Doomhammer insisted. "We no longer need it. Right now, we must regroup on this side of the pass before the enemy catches up.
Once we defeat them, we can return and retake Khaz Modan, even conquer Ironforge, then station our warriors here to rest and recover, waiting for the right moment to push north again and finish our conquest of this world."
But Kilrogg still shook his head.
"Leaving the dwarves behind us is too dangerous," he stressed.
"I've been fighting them here for months. I'm telling you the truth, if we abandon them, they'll swarm out of that fortress like angry wasps and strike us from behind.
Every time I take a fortress, the survivors flee into Ironforge. I can only guess how vast it is inside, but it seems the entire dwarven kingdom is entrenched there, waiting for a chance to take revenge.
If we remove our forces from the area, we'll be attacked from two fronts, not one."
Doomhammer paced back and forth in frustration, digesting the new information.
He trusted Kilrogg's judgment, but it also meant he wouldn't have enough warriors to face the Alliance head-on and win. He had no choice but to continue retreating.
Suddenly, it struck him: maybe this was exactly what the Alliance commander had counted on.
Maybe they already knew how much of the Horde remained in Khaz Modan, but they understood the Bronzebeard dwarves better, and so they dared to let the Horde flee without attacking, confident they could wear them down instead.
Once again, he had miscalculated.
"Stay here," he finally said to Kilrogg.
"Take whoever you need to hold back the dwarves. Harass the humans. I'll lead the rest of the warriors to Blackrock Spire. There, we can use its fortified walls to defend ourselves."
He looked up at the old chieftain. "If possible, bring your men and catch up. Maybe you'll get the chance to strike the humans from behind."
He paused for a moment.
"But Blackrock Spire is our strategic stronghold. If we can't defeat the humans there, we'll never be able to stop them. This war will be lost."
Kilrogg nodded.
He stared at the Warchief for a while before finally speaking.
Doomhammer had never heard this grizzled old chieftain speak in such a gentle tone before.
"You've made the right decision," Kilrogg said to him. "I understand well the cost of Gul'dan's betrayal.
He's taking us back to the days before the portal opened, days when we were tormented by hatred, thirst, and despair to the brink of madness."
He nodded.
"No matter what happens next, you've helped our people regain their honor."
Doomhammer nodded in return. In that moment, he felt a surge of respect, perhaps even affection, for this one-eyed chieftain he had long feared and disliked.
He had always seen Kilrogg as brutal, a savage warrior who valued glory over true honor. Maybe he had been wrong all along.
"Thank you," he said at last, and could think of nothing else to add.
He turned around and walked back toward his clan.
There were still orders to give, and another battle to fight.
Perhaps, the final battle of his life.
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