Teron Gorefiend and Malone edged aside, making room for the Orcs.
"Kilrogg!"
Orgrim rose from his throne and shouted.
"Remember what you said today, Troll."
Kilrogg ignored Orgrim. When he reached the tent entrance, he turned around. The Orcs behind him scattered to either side, opening a path so he could see Zul'jin.
After saying that, Kilrogg strode out of the tent, and a great wave of Orcs surged after him.
Malone thought Kilrogg was pathetic.
Of course, that last move had been cool—Malone meant the way Kilrogg had turned around and the Orcs had instantly parted to open a path. It looked like something straight out of a movie.
But as he watched the tent grow somewhat empty after the Orcs left, Malone couldn't help thinking of a certain saying.
Back home, when two people argued, they never ended up farther and farther apart.
Exactly!
Malone shook his head in disappointment. Although Kilrogg had left behind a string of threats, why hadn't the guy just fought Zul'jin?
Didn't Orcs like to settle things with force?
If Grom Hellscream had been there, it would definitely have come to blows.
Malone thought this, but he was growing more and more worried about Tiffany.
"Shall we go too?"
Malone quietly asked Teron Gorefiend.
Teron Gorefiend glanced at Orgrim, who didn't seem at all concerned by Kilrogg's actions.
"Zuluhed, stay behind. The rest of you may leave."
Orgrim gave the order, his face still impassive.
An Orc who looked even older than Kilrogg took a few steps toward Orgrim's throne.
From where Malone stood, he could only see the back of the gray-haired Orc, with his tangled braid.
The skin on the Orc's exposed arms and the back of his neck was wrinkled, and he looked much frailer—clearly, he wasn't a Warrior.
This guy was a Shaman, Malone told himself. He knew who the Orc was.
Zuluhed, chieftain of the Dragonmaw Clan. Under Deathwing's influence, he had imprisoned the Red Dragon Aspect Alexstrasza, giving the Orcs an "air force."
He wondered how far along Zuluhed's plan was. From the look of Orgrim, it had at least gotten underway.
But Malone knew he was powerless to stop it. Right now, all he wanted was to keep Tiffany safe and get her out of the Orc camp.
He didn't have time to think about Alexstrasza just yet.
Even if he did, he wouldn't want to get involved. It would inevitably mean dealing with Nozdormu, the Bronze Guardian Dragon, and Nozdormu was the one Malone feared most right now.
"Let's go, Maicomarlon. There's nothing left for me here."
Teron Gorefiend said.
The two Death Knights left Orgrim's tent—though perhaps Malone only counted as half of one.
There had been a large group of them on the way in, but only two remained on the way out. Malone had no idea where Tabek and Rend Blackhand had gone.
"Hey!"
A shout came from behind them.
Malone turned around and saw Kaldara, the Blademaster.
Though he was in a hurry to get back to Tiffany, he hesitated for a moment.
He was curious about Kaldara and had a few things he wanted to ask him.
"I'm in a hurry to get back to that shack."
Malone ultimately chose Tiffany's safety, but decided to explain the situation to Kaldara.
"Can I come with you?"
Kaldara asked.
"No, no, don't worry. That human prisoner is yours. I won't hurt her again."
Seeing the wary look on Malone's face, Kaldara answered.
"All right."
Malone nodded, then, at Teron Gorefiend's reminder, wrapped his scarf around his neck—the scrap of cloth that reeked of the dead.
Neither Teron Gorefiend nor Kaldara spoke as they crossed the Blackrock Clan's camp.
Malone gradually couldn't stand the atmosphere—or his own curiosity—and decided to speak first.
"Why did you help us?"
Malone couldn't help asking.
"I didn't help you. I was just stating the facts."
Kaldara replied easily.
"That wasn't the truth. I don't believe you left because you thought you couldn't beat me. What are you really after?"
Teron Gorefiend said coldly.
"You're right, but I'm not wrong either. I simply don't want to get into a conflict with a Death Knight."
Kaldara replied as he walked.
"Then why did you say you surrendered? Won't that hurt your reputation?"
As Malone saw it, Orcs like Blademasters valued honor even more than their lives.
And publicly admitting to "surrendering" was hardly something to be proud of.
"Maybe... but it won't matter much."
Kaldara said nonchalantly.
"But people will think you're weaker than Teron! Won't they question your title of 'Blademaster'?"
Malone asked curiously.
Malone knew how powerful Teron Gorefiend was and how crucial a role he had played in the First War between humans and Orcs.
But no one else in Azeroth knew that yet.
Teron Gorefiend had even hidden his original name—Teron'gor. Now he was just a nobody.
Wouldn't surrendering without a fight to a nobody bring the Blademaster's title into disgrace?
"They can think what they like. If they think I've been overrated and want the honor of defeating a Blademaster by beating me..."
Kaldara stopped, faced Malone, and grinned, revealing two tusks that—unlike those of other Orcs—were pearly white rather than yellow.
"Let them try."
Kaldara said.
That again! Malone stopped in his tracks.
The Blademaster Kaldara had just said the same thing as Zul'jin, the Troll leader.
Malone felt his body tremble slightly. He couldn't imagine just how arrogant and conceited the soul inside someone who said those words must be.
Like Zul'jin, Kaldara looked down on the other Orcs—perhaps including Malone and Teron Gorefiend too, Malone thought.
But Malone understood that such contempt was backed by great strength.
The Blademasters had long been famous across Draenor. And if Zul'jin hadn't demonstrated his strength, everyone except Orgrim Doomhammer would have opposed the Trolls joining the Orcish Horde from the very beginning.
Orcs only recognized strength. Ogres and Trolls could join the Horde, but no one had ever heard of them inviting Gnolls and Murlocs from Elwynn Forest and Westfall.
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