Whispers in the Earth

by Odok

This was my entry into the 2010 Blizzard Global Writing Contest. It's a spin-off of my main story Warrior and focuses on the Karjak and shaman characters featured in the first chapter. Yes, I was lazy and used the same descriptive paragraph for Karjak.

It is a favorite saying among travelers that if the beasts of Kalimdor do not kill you, the land surely will. It is filled with wild jungles, thick forests, and vast, open deserts. Few dare to travel outside their fortified settlements and only the bravest, or perhaps most foolish, would do so on their own. It is then an odd sight to see a lone male orc deep in the wilds of Durotar – a fact the orc knew only too well.

"Where the hell are you," the orc muttered to himself in a deep, gravely voice. He had long, flat black hair that folded into braids draped across his shoulders and chest. His face was thick yet gaunt and two pale yellow tusks jutted up from his stony jaw. He wore a wild, unkempt beard that began at the chin and rose up to meet each ear, both of which were flat against the skull and slightly pointed at the top. His leathery skin was a sign of many years under sun and sweat. The orc's frame was massive and stood clear over the top of all but the tallest humans, taller still if not for his slumped posture. The broad shoulders and chest sat upon two buckled legs and were adorned by thick, muscular arms. All but the arms and head were covered in thick metal plates adorned with spikes and padded with fur and leather. Fixed about his waist was a crude axe, its raw wooden handle fixed to a dull metal blade with cracked leather straps. Its chipped yet sharp edge reflected the primitive and savage traits of his race. He walked with a disciplined gait, yet was constantly darting glances over his shoulder. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed.

The bright sun was glaring over the red earthen clay of the desert floor. Rocky cairns along the desert floor were searing to the touch. The orc came to a stop under the shadow of one large cluster and took a long drought from a flask, the water itself almost scalding to his mouth. His companion was over an hour late by now. Against his better judgement the orc had pressed on in hopes of shortening whatever delay had waylaid the other. He did not like that his companion was late nor did he like the unusually hot weather of the day, even for the deserts of Durotar. Not when he was carrying such valuable information. Not when he couldn't shake this odd sensation he'd had ever since he left Razor Hill that morning. It was almost as if he had a second shadow; something twisting in the corner of his eye that tugged at his gut and fogged his mind.

"The heat must be getting to you," came a soft, raspy voice. The old orc bolted upright and unfastened his weapon. With one fluid motion he bounded out from behind the rocks and readied his axe against his unknown guest. What greeted his vision was a female orc, slimmer and more upright than himself, wearing a simple leather tunic, burlap pants, and cracked leather boots. Her ebony hair was tied into a simple ponytail. On her back were a wooden bow and a quiver of arrows. Her hands were held up in surrender.

"You got me?" she said with a puzzled look. The other didn't lower his axe. A shadow can wear many forms.

"Grulka? Is that you?" he said as he strained his eyes. The shade had dimmed his vision and he found it hard to make out her features. After a few seconds the image settled and he immediately recognized the stranger. He lowered his axe. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"Oh Karjak," she cooed. "After all these years you think I couldn't find my brother? Even if he is lost in the wilds." She lowered her hands and smiled.

"But why are you here? I don't remember asking you to come along."

"You didn't," she said with indignation. "I had to find out for myself that you were off on some secret task. Who are you meeting way out here?"

"How did you know I was meeting someone?" Karjak said with some alarm. That she had found out so easily was troubling.

"Because you told me over breakfast," she stated matter-of-factly. "It was the only thing you said."

"I did?" Why was he having such trouble remembering? "I suppose I did. It's-"

"Is that him over there?" Grulka was pointing just outside of his vision. He turned and spotted a lone figure approaching them. It was too far away to make out any features beyond that it was most likely another male orc dressed in white. Karjak exhaled and gave a silent thanks.

"I can't think of anyone else fool enough to be out this far," said Karjak. "Come on, let's get moving." The two parties quickly closed the distance. Karjak was the first to call out.

"Leave it to the doddering old fool to be nearly an hour late!"

"Leave it to the punch-drunk grunt to forget the time of day!" was the shouted response. The figure was close now. Like Karjak he was an older male orc only slimmer and a few inches shorter. His face was obscured by a white cowl in the visage of a wolf and across his chest was a white vest fashioned out of fur. The vest flowed down into an ornate leather kilt with several wooden totems lined about the waist. They glowed with a faint power, each holding a color meant to represent one of the primal elements of nature: earth, fire, wind, and water. The two rushed together and grasped each other's arm with a smile.

"It is good to see you, old friend," Karjak beamed.

"And you as well," came the warm response. Karjak looked back towards Grulka, who acknowledged with a wave. The other followed Karjak's gaze and back, and tilted his head in a quizzical look. "What is this about? Your message was brief and you look as if you've traveled for days."

"We're a ways from the rendezvous," Karjak said with a heavy sigh. "And you are late."

"Well you know us shaman," the other said with a toothy grin. "Spend enough time talking to rocks and you forget how quickly time can pass." Grulka giggled and Karjak again turned towards her. The shaman looked as well. "Do you think you were followed?"

"I don't know," Karjak said with concern. "I'll feel safer once we reach the Circle. We can speak then." The shaman nodded and the three of them marched on.

The Circle was a small oasis nestled near a tall canyon wall. The stone curved around the small pond and was met on each end by a copse of sandstone spires, which bent around the other side. The effect was like a great stone ring encircling the haven. The only entrance was a small opening at the southern end. The secluded environment offered a perfect location for clandestine meetings, despite its official function as the site of shamanistic rituals. The sun was setting now, casting the Circle into a cool shade. The three orcs appeared near the southern entrance with the two men laughing and clapping each other on the back.

"So I punched him right in the face!" Karjak blurted through peels of laughter. "You've never seen an orc as mad as that pup right there!"

"All for spilling a bit of water?" inquired Grulka. Karjak nodded as the shaman looked on.

"And then I made him get more!" Karjak continued after a deep breath.

"You really should watch your temper," the shaman said with a betraying smirk.

"The whelp had it coming," countered the other. "I hear he's some big hero up in Northrend now. The strongest blades are tempered by the hottest flames."

"And you need to stop reading those elven books," continued the shaman while shaking his head.

"The price of a calm sea is an empty sail," recited Karjak.

"That one doesn't even make sense," the shaman sighed. Grulka rolled her eyes. Karjak beamed. The three came up to the oasis and took seats near the shore. The shaman and Karjak sat opposite each other with Grulka off to one side. The shaman closed his eyes and a short gust of wind blew through the stony glade. After a short pause, he nodded. No one else was nearby.

"There have been reports," Karjak began. The other two in attendance leaned in and listened closely. "Visions of dark omens. Strange noises at night. Two days ago a troll was found murdered in his own tent. Stabbed through the heart with a twisted dagger."

"In Razor Hill?" the shaman wondered aloud. "That is strange…"

"No," Karjak lowered his voice. "This has been happening all over Durotar. Even into the Barrens. Something is targeting our people." The shaman and Grulka sat in silence. Karjak took a breath and prepared himself for what he was going to say next. "The Warchief wants this kept quiet. No one will miss a couple of fool veterans wandering about our lands."

"But why ask for my help?" asked the shaman.

"Because a certain… insight is required. Someone with wisdom who can be trusted." The shaman visibly tensed. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring this on you Du-" The shaman raised his hand to cut off the other before the word could finish.

"That name is dead and you know it!" the shaman thundered. Grulka looked nervously to Karjak. "What is this? Why do you come here opening old wounds?"

"The dagger appeared to belong to a shaman," Karjak said with a forced calm. "An insignia of the elements was carved into the hilt. The victim, the troll, was a shaman as well."

"A shaman murdering another shaman?" Grulka said with a gulp.

"Next to the body were a set of runes, written in his own blood," Karjak continued, ignoring the question. "They were difficult to make out. They seemed to be written in… haste. But one portion was clear, 'This world will burn in the Master's flame.'"

"You can't mean…" stammered the shaman.

"It was written in Eredun, old friend." The earth began to shake. A bolt of lightning struck near the shaman, who was now wreathed in heat and flame. More bolts struck around the circle. Grulka leapt away in a panic.

"Those thick-minded fools!" the shaman boomed. The words seemed to reverberate off the nearby stone. A dark cloud was now blocking out the waning sun. "Those feeble cowards! Murdering a shaman in cold blood! Do they have any grasp of the horror they're embracing?"

"Calm yourself, old friend!" Karjak pleaded.

"Warlocks! Demons!" Nature itself seemed to shake with the shaman's rage. "In our new home!" The last word ended with a painful clap of thunder. A strong gale was now howling through the clearing. "What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to ask the spirits for guidance. To see where the murderer hides!" Karjak was now yelling over the deafening noise. "Without sundering Kalimdor!" Almost immediately the tempest began to subside. The sun was now creeping over the canyon walls.

"Of course," the shaman stammered. "I just-" This time Karjak held up a hand.

"You don't need to explain yourself to me," Karjak said softly. He was looking the other in the eye. "Can you help me?" The shaman hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Water sees all," he mused. The old orc stood and unfastened a totem from his belt. It was gilded with a deep blue and carved with images of flowing rivers and cresting waves. He placed it upright in the small pond. "It falls from the sky. Flows over the land. Laps at the shore. Even pools in the deep places of the earth. It holds the knowledge we seek. Come sit with me, and together we will find what you seek." The shaman closed his eyes and held his arms open across his lap. Karjak put down his axe and did likewise. Grulka gingerly sat down next to Karjak and squeezed his arm in support. With a smile he opened his mind to the shaman, and the world fell away.

The darkness erupted into verdant grassland. The lush vegetation grew out in all directions and touched the distant horizon. There sat rows of mountains and tall hills against gentle, billowing clouds. The sun was high in the sky and bathed the land in a lazy heat. The sweet scent of the grass was almost intoxicating. Tall, alien trees burst from the ground like geysers. Their dark viridian trunks twisted like spun yarn. The space between the trees flushed with vegetation and all glimmered as the trees blossomed with a strange glowing fruit and dark, pointed leaves. There were voices now as three short figures formed in the quivering heat. They looked like orcish children, two boys and a girl, but their skin was an earthy brown instead of the expected green. There was the sound of lapping water and a small lake filled in on their right. They were standing on the border between the lush, green grass and the shadowy, gray line of the forest.

"They told us not to, Karjak," said the one boy, addressing the other. "Evil things live in Terokkar Forest. The bird men, warp stalkers, spiders."

"If it's so dangerous then how come we live right next to it?" teased the girl.

"Because we live in the safe part, Grulka! The shaman said-"

"It doesn't matter what the shaman said!" Karjak interrupted. "A true warrior isn't afraid of anything!"

"But what if there are Draenei in there? I heard they use magic stones to steal your soul and turn you into a mindless slave!" The young boy pleaded.

"Draenei aren't real you gronn-head," Grulka said with a playful sneer.

"What if there are gronn in there too…"

"Then don't go in if you're so scared," Karjak snorted as he puffed out his chest. "My sister and I will go by ourselves and prove our strength! Then we'll become the youngest warriors ever in the Bleeding Hollow clan!"

"Until you come crying into the shaman's hut with another scratch on your arm," chided the boy. Karjak immediately deflated. Grulka giggled.

"I wasn't crying! Those herbs just sting is all! And it wasn't just a scratch! Something is wrong with that talbuk, everybody said so!"

There was a wincing flash of light and the vision seemed to contort and twist. Suddenly everything snapped into a new position. It was now nightfall. A full moon was hanging high in the sky, which had an odd reddish hue. The air was filled with a smoky, acrid stink. Screaming could be heard from deep within the forest, echoing off the empty trees. The young boy and girl were now wearing wicked grins, and turned towards the young Karjak.

"Maybe we should show him what real pain is, Grulka," the boy said with a dark, lustful tone.

"Yes," the young girl mewed. "Tie him up. Throw him in the lake. Let his lungs scream for air."

Before the young Karjak could react the two were on top of him. He could feel his hands and legs bound with a frayed rope. He felt himself lifted from the ground and carried to the edge of the lake. He struggled in a blind panic, but his bonds held tight. His captors responded with a cruel, echoing laugh. His eyes welled up with thick, hot tears as he pleaded for release, but they did not pause. Hands and sharp nails were digging into his flesh, and every yelp brought a sadistic pleasure to his captors. Finally he saw himself hovering over his reflection in the pitch black water of the lake. The faces of the other boy and Grulka were on either side of his.

"The little boy will always weep," the young Grulka cooed.

"Until he breathes the crushing deep," the other finished.

With that Karjak felt himself crash into the dark water. It was ice cold and seemed to immediately sap all the strength from his writhing form. His lungs were already burning. The soft light of the moon grew smaller and smaller, and Karjak realized he was sinking. He struggled as hard as he could, until his muscles cried out in pain, but with every exertion the next seemed all the weaker. His limbs went numb and heavy. The sight of the moon was almost gone.

Kar… jak…

He was going to die. No one was coming to save him.

Karjak…

His lungs were bursting. He couldn't hold out any longer. Just relax, take a deep breath.

Karjak

Breathe in the deep. Let it fill your lungs.

Karjak!

He opened his throat. The cold water poured in.

The shaman stood in the center of the Circle franticly trying to control the monstrosity standing before him. It was a great flowing form made entirely of water that stood over ten feet tall. Its shape was vaguely humanoid with a wide, gelatinous torso ending in two stubby arms and a stunted, domed head. In place of legs there was a gushing fount of water which propelled the rest of its form upright. In one of its "hands" was the suspended form of Karjak, completely engulfed within the beast, which was now contorting in spasms as it fought for air. The shaman held one arm outstretched towards the elemental and pleaded with the spirits of water for aid, but was met with silence. He called out his friend's name, desperate to at least wake him.

Karjak opened his eyes and found himself trapped within the water of his vision. He flailed about in a vain attempt to free himself, but whatever magic birthed the terrible creation had bound him fast within. To his left he saw the shaman casting some sort of spell and tried to call out, but found he could make no sound. His ears were pounding and the corner of his vision began to darken. He felt himself slipping into the long sleep of death when he heard a screeching hiss. He looked up and saw an arrow embedded into what he assumed to be the head of the beast. It began to writhe and foam around the wound, and Karjak felt himself drop to the ground with a thud. In an instant the form of the great elemental gave way and the remains splashed to the ground before seeping into the damp earth. Karjak doubled over and began coughing up the water from his lungs. He greedily gulped in mouthfuls of air, despite the stabbing pain in his chest. Grulka and the shaman rushed to his side.

"What," he gasped. "In the darkest hells… was that thing?"

"A water elemental," the shaman said nervously. "A servant of the elements. I thought you were dead before it suddenly dissipated like that. But why it would attack us, and that vision… was that Nagrand? On Draenor? Why would it show us our own memories?"

"I don't recall," Karjak said through staggered gasps. "Ever drowning… as a child."

"Something is very wrong here. With everything."

"At least you're ok," Grulka said with a warm smile. She was kneeling over Karjak patting him on the back. Her hand felt warm and soothing to the touch.

"It's going to be dark soon," the shaman said as he looked to the sky. "You're going to need a fire if you don't want to freeze to death next. Stay here while I look for firewood. Then by our ancestors we're going to figure out what is going on." As the shaman hurried out of the southern entrance, Karjak turned to Grulka.

"I guess I should thank you for that timely rescue," he said with a weak smile before coughing again. "It didn't seem like that old fool had the situation under control."

"No, it didn't," she said with a worried look. "And a shaman of his power should. It almost seemed like…" She trailed off. Karjak gave her a stern look.

"What are you saying?"

"It almost seemed like he was controlling it. Or summoning it," she said as she wiped his brow. The heat of her touch made him realize just how cold he was. He began to shiver. "He seemed so angry once you told him about the murder. About how a shaman was responsible. You remember his past, who he was back on Draenor. Do you think-"

"No!" the force of the comment made Grulka falter. Karjak was glaring. "Not another word. You know he would never do something like this."

"Of course," Grulka said as her look softened. "I'm just worried is all. You know I'll always be there for you."

"It's a good thing we keep a stack of kindling nearby for ceremonies," the shaman called out as he walked back into the Circle with an armful of firewood. His face wore a wide smile. "I don't think they'll mind if we borrow some."

The bundle was dumped at Karjak's feet. The shaman made a gesture with his hand and a small plume of fire shot into the wood. Within seconds a crackling flame flared up and illuminated the site of the previous battle. Thick mud and blotches of wet clay extended for several yards in each direction. The shaman reached into a small pouch and threw a handful of powder into the flame, which roared to life with fresh intensity. The whole of the Circle was now revealed by its dancing light. The shaman wandered over to the small oasis and retrieved his totem. The water was still pristine and undisturbed by the elemental's passing. He began to paw through the mud and sparse vegetation. Meanwhile Karjak inched closer to the fire. His skin was tingling with renewed heat. Grulka lazily tossed a nearby stick into the fire, which popped and hissed as it ate the damp wood. After several minutes, Karjak called out to his friend.

"Have you found anything?"

"No," the shaman's voice was distant. He was resting on his haunches and looking down into the soil. "And that is what worries me. Elementals must be bound to our plane, usually through a bracer or binding. Without one they merely dissipate back into their base materials. To cross over on their own, unbound, would be like walking through a wall."

"Could the totem have bound it?" Karjak offered. Grulka perked up and turned toward the shaman.

"A powerful shaman can use their totem to bind an elemental temporarily," the shaman said as he stood up and stretched. "But it requires focus and a blessing of the elements themselves. This could not have happened without my knowledge. Besides, the elemental was not formed from the water within the pool. Its level is the same. What we encountered was not the work of the elements. It was summoned here."

"But we were alone here," Grulka thought aloud. She glanced towards Karjak.

"This is far more serious than we though," said the latter. "We should send for aid from Orgrimmar. We aren't equipped to handle sorcery of this level."

"Wait-" the shaman interrupted. He had seen a glint in the corner of his eye. He turned to the location and saw the glint again. It was coming from the edge of the water. He kneeled down and carefully brushed away a thin layer of silt. What he found was unexpected.

"What is it?" Karjak asked as he peered over the fire.

"Some sort of amulet or charm," the other called back. It was an uncut stone fastened to a steel chain. The color of the stone was difficult to make out in the unsteady light. It seemed to shift between purple, blue, and black. It was much heavier than it seemed. The surface of the stone was smooth despite its imperfections and, as the shaman noticed, completely dry.

"Is it magical?" said Karjak as he stood and moved towards the shaman's location. Grulka did likewise.

"Possibly," the shaman said as he brought the stone near his face. His eyes began to glow with a soft light that wisped away like a fog. "It may have been left by whoever, or whatever, summoned that thing against us. I'll attempt to scry their location and- grah!" The shaman cried out in pain as a dark energy raced out of the stone and into his hand. There were flashes of images: a sprawling savannah, four roads meeting as one, a cave sitting under a setting sun. There was a flash of light and the stone shattered into dust. The shaman clutched his hand in agony. It was as if a thousand tiny daggers were thrusting into his skin, over and over again.

"Are you all right?" Karjak shouted as he ran over to his friend. He skidded to a halt and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"This pain," the shaman said through clenched teeth. "Is excruciating!" He called out to the elements for help and exhaled as he felt the pain dull and ultimately subside. He was still clutching the empty chain but the stone had been completely destroyed. Still, his attempt had succeeded and he gave a weak smile. Karjak understood.

"So you know where he is?" he offered.

"Or she," the shaman corrected. "We still no nothing of this villain. But this stone came from a cavern west of the Crossroads, far into the Barrens. We should leave immediately." The shaman made to stand, but quickly buckled. He was far weaker than he had realized.

"Tomorrow," said Karjak as he helped his friend to his feet. They hobbled back towards the fire. "It's dark and we both need rest. We can take a few riding wolves and be there before sunset. For now, let's sleep."

A young orc shaman and his female companion sat next to a gentle river. They were wearing simple yet practical cloth over their brown skin, but nothing that marked them of station beyond the signature totems on the shaman's waist. Bright, golden sand lined the banks and fresh, vibrant grass grew beyond. The two were talking between bouts of innocent laughter. They spoke as adults but carried about themselves the unmistakable air of youth. The woman said something that caused the male to stand. He pointed towards the river and two shimmering pillars rose from the water. They began to twist and flow between each other, like ribbons dancing in the air. The woman looked on with rapt attention. The male turned to her and smiled. The display faltered and collapsed, drenching both entirely. The woman stood with arms outstretched, water dripping down her drooping limbs. Wet hair stuck to her face. The male stifled a laugh. The woman twisted her mouth and punched the male in the shoulder. The male mocked pain. Both of them sputtered out a peel of laughter.

The image quivered and shimmered, like heat rising from a stone road. The sun was now setting behind a distant mountain. The two were now sitting next to a campfire. They were stripped down to their barest clothing, the remainder of which was sprawled out on the grass nearby. The body of a small bird was roasting on a spit over the fire. The male tested the meat with a stick, before turning towards the woman.

"You really are a good shot, Grulka," he said affectionately. The woman turned her head towards him.

"Apology accepted," she stated flatly. She mouthed another word at the end, but there was no sound to her voice.

"After all these years I thought you were set on becoming a warrior," the male said idly. He was now string lazily into the flames. "Then you join the hunters. To trade your blade for a bow."

"Sometimes life takes you down paths you thought hidden," she said as she stared up at the sky. "When the most obvious choice has always sat before you. But you spend all your time convincing yourself it isn't. You take other voices as your own." She placed her hand over his. "Until one night when everything falls into place. You quiet your mind and hear the wind sing around you." She again turned to him. "You listen to the one part of you that matters most." She placed his hand over her heart. "And find the life you're meant to live."

The two leaned in and kissed. The fire roared and shot into the air. The two closed their eyes. They grasped at each other's flesh. Their skin was hot and feverish against the cooling air. They pulled each other close. Their lips parted and their eyes opened. They smiled. Their bodies were pressed together. Sweat beaded on their skin. They looked deep into each other and kissed between short, ragged breaths. Their hearts were pounding. Their blood was boiling. Skin pressed against skin. The image began to blur.

There was a droning hum and the male winced in pain. When he looked back the woman was wearing a wide grin. The fire was now an inferno and spreading beyond control. The male tried to move but was unable, locked within their embrace. People were yelling in the distance. The woman leaned in next to his ear.

"I've found a new power," she whispered. "A new strength from Oshu'gun. The power to wield flame and shadow." She lifted one hand, which ignited in flame. Both it and the nearby blaze shifted into an emerald hue. "The power to summon soldiers of the void."

"N-No…" the man stammered. The scalding air was stinging his eyes and stifling his breath. His skin was searing. Sweat was steaming off in tendrils of smoke. The woman was laughing.

"Embrace the flame," she cried. The man looked at her in horror. "Let it burn you away!" She grabbed his hand. Fire lanced up his arm. "Revel in the purifying pain!" The flames engulfed his body. He screamed.

The shaman bolted upright. His skin was drenched in sweat and he was gasping for air. He looked around and found himself lying in the Circle. The morning sun had just begun to creep into the sky. He looked to his companion and saw Karjak staring at him in a similar state. The two wordlessly stood and began to dress. Karjak walked over and rustled Grulka from her sleep, who lay between the two older orcs. The shaman meanwhile tended to their small fire. It had died down to embers, but after brushing away some ash he discovered the remains smoldering in a hot, blue flame. Karjak and Grulka moved past him towards the exit, the latter of whom offered a smirk. The shaman kicked some dirt which extinguished the remains and donned his cowl. He didn't look up.

The vast savannah of the Barrens stretched out before the three travelers. A sea of amber grass swayed in a subtle, arid breeze. Cicadas hummed in the afternoon heat. The scent of dust and dry vegetation filled the air. The land was remarkably flat and each could see for miles around. There were a few sparse trees with flat, umbrella-like canopies scattered about the landscape. A herd of kodos, great leathery beasts of burden that walked low to the ground on four elephantine legs, wandered in the distance. Their docile, horned heads stretched down like a ladle and lazily grazed on the abundant flora. Several small orc settlements lined the boundary hills of the territory, but the crown jewel of the Barrens sat before Karjak and his companions. The town, known only as Crossroads, was a shared venture between the orcs and their tauren allies - great bull-men from the southern plains of Mulgore. It sat on the intersection of the four main roads that coursed through the Horde territories: south towards the tauren lands, west into the Stonetalon Mountains, north to the ancient Ashenvale Forest, and east into the heart of Durotar, on which the band now traveled. When the great hide barricades of the town came into view, the shaman paused and stared. His riding wolf whined and panted, to which the shaman affectionately scratched behind its ear. Karjak and Grulka also stopped and watched the shaman with puzzlement.

"Something isn't right," the shaman said at last. "Caravans and merchants regularly stop here for supplies, but none can be seen. And the southern road has been barricaded." Karjak frowned and noticed that what his friend said was true.

"Something has the guards on alert," Karjak added. "I don't like this. We should see what's going on." To that the shaman finally broke his stare to look at his friend.

"We should avoid it," he lectured. "We have our mission and this will only complicate the situation. Or worse, give our quarry time to escape."

"And let our brothers fend for themselves?" Karjak challenged. The shaman looked on dispassionately. Grulka raised an eyebrow. "The Horde looks after its own." He gripped his reins. "Let's ride." Karjak left towards the town without further discussion. The shaman and Grulka followed silently.

What greeted the three was a frenzy of activity. Orcish grunts and tauren braves were running reports between the three remaining entrances. Civilians were being herded into a large building to the north. Arms and armor were being stockpiled in the center of town along with fresh food and water. Mounts were being saddled as their riders huddled in a circle and discussed strategy. Healers had cordoned off a section of open space and were laying out mats for any wounded. A nearby orc was barking orders to a group of archers, who quickly scaled a nearby watchtower. The former noticed the new arrivals and hurried over to greet them.

"Throm'ka, warrior," he said with a salute to Karjak. He nodded towards the shaman. "Honored shaman. Have you come to aid us?" Grulka crossed her arms and gave an expectant look but the stranger paid her no heed.

"Throm'ka, Captain," Karjak answered, noting the insignia on the orc's chest. "We were traveling in from Durotar when we noticed the commotion. We have come to offer whatever assistance we can. Why do you prepare for war?"

"Ever since the crisis at the Undercity the humans have been massing for an attack against our lands," stated the captain. He pivoted on one foot and pointed towards the south. "Our scouts reported a large column of troops marching north from their settlement in Dustwallow Marsh. Camp Taurajo has been evacuated and we've prepared our defenses as best we can. If they intend to march on Durotar they will have to fight past us first." A horn sounded over the town and the captain looked up at the nearby tower.

"Commandah," a troll said in a thick accent as he leaned over the top platform. He was holding onto a rafter with one long, lanky arm. The rest of his thin body was half-hanging in the air as his bare, stubby feet gripped for support. His light purple skin and bright orange mohawk made him stand out against his surroundings. He was dressed for battle and a grim fetish hung from one of two great tusks that jutted out laterally from his upper jaw. "Da humans are coming! Dey not be more 'an hour away. And dey be bringin' siege tanks." The captain swore under his breath.

"Make sure the civilians are safe!" he barked. He pointed at Karjak and the shaman. "You two, if you're here to help then get to the southern barricade." He addressed a nearby grunt. "If you can spare any arms, get them to the civilians. If our time has come we'll all die fighting." The orc saluted and obeyed. The captain ran off to rally the defenders. The shaman moved to inspect the makeshift barricade. It was mostly made of crates and spare wood. He brushed off a splintered plank and gestured Karjak over.

"Karjak, look at what's in these crates," he said. Karjak complied. "Trade supplies. Medicine. Spare tools. Why would they sacrifice their livelihood on the front lines like this?"

"Battles can be desperate," Karjak said with indifference. "You know this."

"But they could have removed the goods before stockpiling the crates. What's that?" the shaman asked. A loud drum beat was now booming over the town. "That sound…"

"War drums!" Karjak exclaimed. The earth beneath his feet seemed to shake with the powerful beats. "Drums like I haven't heard since the old days! This will be a glorious battle!"

"Exactly," the shaman replied as he looked around. He saw no drum or drummer. "This rhythm hasn't been heard since the days of the Old Horde. It has either been lost or forbidden. Why would it be playing now?"

"Enough!" Karjak snarled. He unfastened his axe and readied himself. Grulka stood nearby and held bow and arrow at the ready. She gave a reassuring nod. "Ask your pointless questions later and ready yourself for battle!"

"This isn't what it seems!" the shaman pleaded. He reached out through the earth but felt no approaching army. Only the echoing beat of the drums. He glanced back at the barricade. "Karjak you are the only one at the barricade! Why are the other guards not there with you?"

"I said enough!" Karjak snarled. The shaman shouted a response, but he did not hear. That fool was making no sense. A battle was fast approaching. He needed to focus. Be steady, like a beating drum. Today those elven poets would prove their worth. "There!" he shouted and pointed along the road. A cloud of dust was billowing over the land. The enemy had arrived faster than expected.

The drum grew louder. The ground shook under its direction. Karjak felt the tremors thunder up into his core. He relaxed and let the primal rhythm center his heart and mind. There was a flash. He was surrounded by a screaming horde. Orcs snarling and howling with red, glowing eyes. Another flash. He looked out onto the advancing army. He saw humans clad in metal. Elves readying their archers. Dwarves and gnomes piloting machines of war. He tightened his axe. They would be at the barricade soon. He looked down. There was a pool of blood. Battle raged around him. There was screaming and fear. A dead orc woman lay nearby. A human stood over her. He was sneering. Karjak looked up. He spied a human in the charging throng. He had a white beard, blue eyes, that arrogant grin. It was him. It was him.

The armies clashed. Karjak roared and swung his axe hard. He felt it shudder against his opponent's armor then smiled as it bit into yielding flesh. A footman fell at his feet. Be steady, like a beating drum. He swung again. This time there was little resistance as an elf was cleaved neatly in two. He saw a gleam of metal and raised his axe in defense. A sword was parried away. Karjak retaliated and thrust hard with the tip of his axe. There was a satisfying thud and another foe dropped. He looked back towards Grulka. Her stance was fluid and steady. With every arrow she let fly an enemy breathed his last. The shaman was also near, calling down fire and death from the sky. The ground buckled under the assault and humans were tossed aside like playthings. A pale, green fire immolated the land. A new foe charged Karjak's position, focusing his attention back on the battle. He swung wide and the human's head separated from his shoulders. That's when he saw the soldier's face: the white, the blue, the look of pain and horror. Karjak roared in triumph. Be steady, like a beating drum. He swung again and again. Another foe fell, followed by another and yet another. Be steady, like a beating drum. He felt a hand on his shoulder and swung around to attack, but stopped when he saw the face of his old friend.

"Karjak, what are you doing?" he asked.

"It's exhilarating!" Karjak cried. The shaman's eyes spelled confusion. "Humans dying by the dozens! It's just like the old days! The old wars! Lok'tar ogar!" The shaman set his jaw.

"I'm sorry, old friend," he said as he tightened his grip. "But this is for your own good." Karjak clenched as pain and lightning shot through his body. His muscles tensed and his axe fell to the ground. He followed suit and collapsed onto his knees. The sensation quickly passed as the eldritch power discharged into the ground. He growled and rose to his feet. He nearly swung at the shaman before stopping dead. The armies were gone. The drums were silent. The land was clean of any bodies. He looked around and the assembled guards were in a state of chaos. Soldiers brandished their blades at empty air. Others were carrying sticks and assaulting nearby trees, posts, and even buildings. The few left were fighting each other with their bare hands. The civilians were screaming that their shelter had caught fire, though no flames or smoke could be seen. Karjak looked back at the shaman and Grulka, who seemed equally confused.

"What madness is this?" he wondered aloud.

"The same that gripped us the night before," the shaman suggested. "If that is true we need to reach that cavern immediately."

"We can't just leave them like this!" Karjak shouted. Grulka nodded in agreement.

"What if this is Orgrimmar, Karjak?" the shaman replied with a stern voice. "Or Razor Hill? What happens if they start killing each other? The entire Horde could destroy itself in a day."

"You're… you're right," Karjak relented. "We must put an end to this." The two carefully picked their way through the sparring crowd and made their way west with Grulka following close behind.

The cavern opened before them like the yawning maw of some terrible beast. Jagged rocks lined the walls and ceiling. The air was damp and carried the scent of death and darker things. Karjak grimaced but endured the stench. He was accustomed to corpses. He saw the shaman was similarly unaffected. Grulka gagged and was forced to tie a cloth about her nose.

"I'm starting to regret this assignment," Karjak complained. The shaman couldn't help but laugh.

"I've been to your hut. Dark, foul-smelling pits should be of no concern," the shaman said as he peered into the inky depths of the cave.

"You're in remarkably good spirits," Karjak muttered. He too tried to pierce the veil of darkness.

"After living nightmares and mass hysteria I welcome a nice boring cave." The shaman strained his eyes. "There, in the distance, do you see that?"

"Is that a light?"

"Isn't that bad?" Grulka interjected. "Don't lights mean people? In this case bad people?"

"It could be," the shaman mused as he began to creep into the opening. Karjak and Grulka followed closely behind. "At least we don't need to worry about our lack of torches." Karjak froze, then sighed and shook his head.

"You really like caves don't you?"

"I find them cozy."

The three carefully pressed on until they reached the suspicious light. It was a soft blue glow, and upon inspection appeared to be a fungus growing on the wet cavern wall. As their eyes adjusted to the gloom they found more of it growing all throughout the complex.

"It's always a mushroom," Karjak muttered.

"Or a crystal," the shaman corrected. "At least we can see. And strange, glowing fungus doesn't concern me as much as this breeze." Karjak hadn't noticed but he felt a soft wind brushing against his skin. "That isn't natural."

The shaman found a tunnel opening and pressed on. The strange glowing lifeforms stretched on into the darkness. The trio walked for what seemed like hours down the winding passage, yet there was never a branching path. Karjak shifted nervously as he stooped through the passage. Something was keeping him on edge – a dark anxiety that was impossible to place. Whatever was causing it seemed not to affect the shaman or Grulka, or else they simply weren't showing it. Somehow it felt familiar. Suddenly they all came around a corner and stopped at a flat wall. Karjak rushed to the stony surface and pawed over it, desperate for some hidden lever or obscured passageway. He found nothing.

"A dead end?" he cried. "All of this for nothing?" Karjak turned but found himself alone with Grulka. The shaman had disappeared.

"Where did he go?" Grulka asked with a twinge of panic. Karjak had no answer, but every hair on his body was on end. He felt like he did back in Durotar, like he was being followed. Only now he truly may not be alone, and whatever was tracking them had taken his friend. He ran back down the tunnel.

"Hello?" he cried out. There was no response. He ran further. His footsteps were deafening in the cramped silence. "If you're there answer m-" His voice was cut off as he slipped on a wet patch of rock. Instead of landing hard on the ground he found himself sliding down a steep incline. He struggled to find a foothold but the surface was worn and smooth. After several seconds he leveled out and skidded to a halt. He found himself in an open sub-chamber. The mysterious fungus was much thinner here and he found it difficult to see the entire room. He started to look for an exit.

"There isss no essscape…" a voice hissed from somewhere in the room. Karjak winced. The sound was metallic and harsh.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Karjak shouted into the darkness. He held his axe at the ready. He strained to hear any signs of movement but was met with silence.

"I ssserve my Lord…" the voice resonated inside Karjak's head. The volume was unbearable. "One who brought me here… One who brought you to me… One who sssings with the ancient formsss… The Lord of fire, earth, sssea, and sssky…"

"A shaman? A shaman brought you here?" Karjak backed himself next to the closest wall. His ears were ringing and his skull felt like it would split in two. Each word was an icy spear that left a burning hole in his mind.

"Ssso much more than a shaman…" the thing continued. "A Lord that livesss in shadow… He with the reaching dream… He led you here… He left you alone…"

"You lie," Karjak was clutching his head now. "Such a friend would never-"

"Betray…" the thing interrupted. Karjak found himself unable to respond. "Yesss… flesh betraysss so quickly…" Images flooded Karjak's mind: the night at the Circle, the strange dream, the attack on the Crossroads. "Yesss… each time he wasss near… you sssaw hisss true nature…" Karjak slid to the ground. "And now… you will die…"

A fleshy tendril whipped out of the darkness and impaled the wall mere inches from Karjak's head. The old stone crumbled away as the vine-like appendage slithered back into the shadows. He heard the air whistle as the next blow prepared to strike. This time he deftly rolled on his side mere moments before the attack pierced where he lay. With one motion he grabbed his axe from the floor and rolled to his feet. He still could see nothing, but now he felt something lurking nearby. A shadow shifted and he raised his axe in defense. Something hard struck the blade and sent the orc flying back. He slammed hard into the cavern wall before slumping back down to the floor. He steadied himself just as another grotesque missile flew towards him. Rather than roll to avoid the attack, the orc swung hard at the spot he hoped the limb was headed. A wet, sickening slice confirmed his guess to be true and a putrid black ichor sprayed out from the creature's wound. The thing made no noise or cry of pain. Instead another attack immediately followed the last. Karjak easily dodged the strike and noticed the direction of the thrusting flesh. He turned towards its origin, leapt into the darkness, and swung with all his might. By luck or experience he felt the blade sink into something soft. The ichor again poured from the wound but the assailant still did not cry out. Rather, it made a noise that Karjak could only assume was laughter. He heard something collapse to the ground.

"My death meansss nothing…" the voice was fading. "He returnsss…" Karjak took a moment to catch his breath before he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Karjak?" Grulka called into the darkness. "Karjak!"

"I'm here!" he responded. She followed the voice and quickly found him with a warm embrace. "You were right. It's him. He was behind all of this. We need to get out of here. That thing said he was coming back." As if in response the cavern began to shake. Rocks and debris came loose and crashed down from the ceiling.

"He's trying to bury us alive!" Grulka cried out. She pointed to a slightly darker corner of the room. "That looks like a way out! Hurry!" The two sprinted towards the opening as the earth crashed down around them. A strong wind was now howling through the caves, buffeting the two orcs in an attempt to slow their progress. Despite the hindrance the two made it through and began to run down the new passage. Suddenly there was a loud crash and a cry of fear. Karjak spun around and choked on a cloud of dust.

"Karjak, help!" Grulka yelled from out of sight. "I'm pinned under a rock! Don't leave me!" Karjak ran through the blinding cloud of smoke and collided with another body. He bolted upright and spied the shaman sprawled out before him. The latter struggled to his feet and approached the former.

"There you are!" the shaman exclaimed. "I thought I'd lost you! We need to leave now. The cave is collapsing and-" Karjak punched the shaman hard in the jaw. He dropped to the ground and looked up at his friend, stunned. "Karjak what the hell is wrong with you?" He was now staring at the sharp edge of Karjak's axe.

"Shut up you damn monster," Karjak growled. "I know the truth. I know what you really are." He began to run past his former friend but felt a strong hand on his leg.

"I don't know what you've seen but we need to leave this place now!" the shaman proclaimed, holding fast onto Karjak's leg. "That way just leads deeper in! I won't let yourself get killed!"

"I said shut up!" Karjak screamed. He kicked the shaman hard in the chest. The old orc landed flat on his back as his head smacked the hard floor. "Your tricks won't stop me from saving Grulka! I won't let her die!" The shaman struggled to his feet.

"Grulka? Have you gone mad?" The two stumbled as the ground beneath them shook. "Grulka is dead!"

"Help me please!" Grulka yelled, voice trembling with fear.

"Not if I can stop you!" Karjak growled as he once more headed back down the tunnel. He felt two strong arms grab him about the chest and soon found himself flying backwards and sliding across the stone floor. The shaman now stood between him and his goal, a cracking power now playing across his form. More debris and loose stone crumbled down from the ceiling.

"She died years ago!" he boomed. "During the old wars! Don't you remember?" Karjak again saw the orc woman lying in a pool of blood, a human standing over her corpse. He shook the image away.

"Don't listen to him!" Grulka pleaded. "I've always been there for you!"

"Your lies and false visions are useless!" Karjak lifted his axe and charged the shaman. "She has been with us this whole time! Even you can't make me forget that!" He swung hard and a sharp, metallic clank echoed through the cavern. The shaman had formed a crude shield from the surrounding stone over his arm, and his free hand shook with power.

"I won't let this insanity consume you!" He punched Karjak square in the chest, knocking him back several yards. "Even if I must fight my oldest friend." Karjak stood and roared.

"A friend who betrayed his people!" Karjak swung, but again the blow was deflected. "A friend who sold his honor for the demons' power!" This time the shaman snarled. From his hands shot a ball of molten rock. It missed Karjak by a breath and slammed into the nearby stone. The cavern shook.

"We were all seduced by Gul'dan and his ilk!" the shaman yelled. Bands of fire and water were now writhing across his skin. "I let that man die back on Draenor!"

"A friend so ashamed of his past that he forgot who he was!" Kargath charged the shaman and unleashed a flurry of blows. "A friend who forgot the lessons of the past!" It was all the shaman could do to keep up. "A friend who is nothing but a hollow shell!" Karjak's assault didn't let up. "A friend who is nothing but the powers he now serves!" The shaman felt his back hit a wall. "Who are you, old friend?" The shaman's arm was shaking. "Who are you!" The shaman's defense finally broke. Karjak batted the shield away and punched him hard in the gut. The shaman fell over in pain, clutching his stomach. Suddenly he looked down in recognition. All four totems on his person were shaking with power. He saw the elements dancing across his body. He saw the trembling earth and the fury in Karjak's eyes. He saw them playing as children across the plains of Nagrand. He saw himself kissing Grulka by the river. He saw himself mourning at her funeral. He felt the emptiness as the elements abandoned him so many years ago. He saw himself leaving his fel powers behind. He saw himself running away from who he was. He saw Karjak readying his killing blow.

"My name is Durin Stormsong!" he bellowed. Karjak faltered. The shaman thrust out his arms. "And this ends now!" A tremendous torrent of wind ripped through the small space. Karjak tried to shield himself but was tossed aside by the howling maelstrom. Slowly the elements subsided. Karjak sat in a daze.

"Durin…" he muttered. "Durin, my oldest friend." He saw his memories clearly now. Their life spent together. He saw Grulka lying dead on an old battlefield. He remembered his grief and sadness. He remembered how hard he'd wanted to protect her. He remembered abandoning the blood haze soon after, as Durin abandoned his. He stood and turned the corner and saw the empty corridor. Grulka was nowhere to be seen. The cavern shuddered and Karjak cast a worried look back at his comrade. The latter spoke through haggard breaths.

"This whole place is unstable," he managed to say. "It will soon collapse entirely."

"How can we escape?" Karjak said as he kneeled next to his friend. "It took us hours just to get here."

"I can find the way," Durin said. "But I am too weak to stand." Karjak hoisted him up by his shoulder.

"Then I will lend you my strength and we shall found our way out together." The two smiled briefly before the shaman closed his eyes. He started to give directions, and Karjak led them both through the sprawling caves. Heavy rocks were now collapsing from above and entire passageways were being sealed off. Yet the shaman never paused or second-guessed. Finally the two saw the light of the main entrance and hobbled to safety. Just as they reached the open air the tunnel collapsed behind them with a jet of dust and smoke.

"We made it," Karjak said with relief. He sat down on the soft grass. "What was that thing?"

"It was ourselves," Durin said with a smirk. "All our memories. All our fears and regrets. It was likely feeding off our people for years. We two were its great instruments."

"So none of it was real," said Karjak. Durin nodded. "At least physically. I don't know how I'm going to explain this."

"Well you can practice on our friends back at the Crossroads," During replied. Karjak groaned. "There's probably a lot there in need of an explanation right now." Karjak once more hoisted up his friend and began walking towards the east.

"Durin?" Karjak inquired. The shaman seemed to enjoy the sound of his name before replying.

"Yes?"

"If none of this was real," Karjak paused before continuing. "Then who killed that troll?"

A dark shape slithered in the dark. It squeezed through cracks in the stone and wormed its way through soil and clay. Above it were the sounds of mortals scurrying about their short, frantic lives. The shape crawled through a crack in the ground and thrust into the night air. Several figures were kneeled around it. They wore heavy dark robes and their faces were obscured by a low hood. The twisting form sent a ripple of energy through the crowd before disappearing back into the earth. Those assembled wept in agony, and sensed that the form was pleased. They chanted in unison.

"All will bow before our Great Lord's name."

"This world will burn in the Master's flame."