Chapter 12 Chapter Eleven

Thrall had never been happier.He spent the next few days feasting with the Warsong clan, singing their valiant battle hymns and war hymns, and studying at Hellscream's knees. Thrall discovered that the orcs were not the mindless killing machines depicted in the book at all, but a noble race.They are masters of the battlefield, and while they revel in blood mist and bone piles, their culture is rich and detailed.Hellscream talks about how each clan used to be separate.Each has their symbols, customs, and even language.Among them are strong-willed leaders called shamans who use natural magic rather than the evil, demonic supernatural magic.

"Isn't magic just magic?" Thrall asked, ignorant of all aspects of magic and eager to know. "Yes and no," said Grom. "Sometimes the effect is the same. For example, if a shaman summons a bolt of lightning to attack his enemies, they will be burned to death. If a warlock summons a bolt of hellfire to attack his enemies, they will also be burned Burn to death." "So magic is magic," Thrall said. "But," Grom went on, "lightning is a natural phenomenon. You call it by asking for its help. With hellfire, you make a contract, and it demands something from yourself."

"But you said the shamans are gone. Doesn't that mean the way of the sorcerer is better?" "Sorcerer's Way is faster," Grom said. "It's more efficient, at least it looks like that. But there comes a point where you have to pay the price, and sometimes that's pretty deadly." Thrall learned that he wasn't the only one horrified at the strange lethargy displayed by the hordes of emaciated, tormented orcs held in the internment camp. "No one can explain it," said Hellscream, "but it manifested itself in each of us, one after the other. At first we thought it was some disease, but after a while no one died, Nothing bad even happened."

"One of the orcs in the camp thought it was related to—" Thrall fell silent, not wanting to offend Hellscream. "Go on!" Grom ordered, annoyed. "What is it about?" "And those red eyes," Thrall said. "Ah," Grom said, looking sad to Thrall. "Maybe so. There are things we're fighting that blue-eyed young men like you can't understand. I hope you never will." For the second time since Thrall saw Hellscream, he Looks small and fragile.He was thin, Thrall noticed.It's his wildness, his battle cry that makes him look so terrifying and powerful.Physically, the charismatic leader is weakening by the day.Even though he had only met Hellscream for a few days, the sight touched Thrall deeply.It seemed that the orc chieftain's will and strong personality were the only thing that kept him alive, bound together by flesh, bone and sinew.

He didn't say what he felt; Grom?Hellscream knows.Their eyes met, Hellscream nodded, and changed the subject. "They have nothing to hope for, nothing to fight for," Hellscream said. "You told me about an orc who was able to fight a friend so you could escape. That gave me hope. If these people feel that somehow they can make an effort and take their fate into their own hands - I'm sure they can cheer up. None of us ever went to those damn camps, tell me all you know, Thrall." Sal readily agreed, happy to be of more help.He described the camps, the orcs, the guards, every detail he knew about the security measures.Hellscream listened quietly, interrupting him from time to time to ask some questions, or some detailed things.When Thrall finished speaking, Hellscream was silent for a long time.

"Very well," he said at last. "Humans feel safe after our shameful loss of glory. We can take advantage of this. It has been a dream of mine, Thrall, to sweep up these poor camps and free the orcs where they are held. But now I They are afraid that after the gate is knocked down, they will be like cattle, unwilling to fly to freedom." "Unfortunately, that could be true," Sal said. Grom swears in high spirits. "It is our business to wake them from strange dreams of despair and defeat. I am not surprised, Thrall, that you have come at this time. Gul'dan is dead, and his warlocks are torn apart. When we recreate the old It's time for the day scene." His crimson eyes twinkled. "You will be one of them."

Nothing could make Blackmoore feel any better. As the days passed, he knew the chances of finding Thrall dwindled.They might have been within walking distance of him in the detention facility, and the incident still tasted bitter in his mouth. He tried to forget about that by drowning his worries in alcohol. Other than that, he does nothing.Thrall seemed to disappear, a difficult task for a creature as large and ugly as an orc.Sometimes, when empty bottles piled up around him, Blackmoore was sure everyone was against him, conspiring to let Thrall escape.At least one fact makes this theory stand, he has someone close to him who has unquestionably betrayed him.He hugged her tightly at night, keeping her from suspecting that he already knew; enjoying her body, maybe a little rougher than before; speaking to her as an equal.But sometimes, when she was asleep, the pain and anger were so overwhelming that he got out of bed and got himself very drunk.

Of course, after Thrall fled, all hope of leading an orc army against the Alliance evaporated like morning mist in a harsh sun.Edras?What will become of Blackmoore in the future?Terrible, he has to bear the shameful name of his father and prove himself countless times, no matter how lowly he is, he will put on a good face.They had told him that there was no doubt that his position was an honor and that he had earned a lot of money.But he is still far from the throne of power, not in the eyes means not in the heart.Who actually has the right to think of Blackmoore?There wasn't a single one, and that made Blackmoore sick.

He picked up the bottle and drank again.There was a cautious knock on the door. "Go away," he growled. "My lord?" The tentative voice came from that renegade bitch's daddy son of a bitch. "There is news, my lord. Lord Langdon is here to see you." Hope suddenly rose in Blackmoore's heart, and he struggled to get up from the bed.It's afternoon now, and Terasa is off to work.He threw his leather boots to the ground and sat spinning for a while. "Let him in, Tamis," he ordered. Langdon opened the door and entered. "Good news, my lord!" he announced. "We have news from Thrall."

Blackmoore snorted.Thrall's "messages" are all too common, considering the fat bounties on offer.But Langston didn't come here to tell Blackmoore those wild rumors. "Who saw him, and where?" "A few miles away from the place of detention, to the west," Langton said. "Many of the villagers were woken up by an orc trying to break into their homes. He seemed hungry. When they surrounded him, he spoke to them friendly, and when they started attacking, the orcs fought back and knocked them down." "Is anyone dead?" Blackmoore didn't want that.If his pet kills someone, he has to pay the villagers.

"No. In fact, they said that the orc deliberately didn't kill people. A few days later, the son of a peasant woman was kidnapped by a party of orcs. He was taken to an underground cave, and they asked a big orc to kill him. The orc Refused, and the orc chief agreed to the decision. The boy told the story as soon as he was released. My lord—the orcs all spoke the human language, because the big orc couldn't understand his companion." Blackmoore nodded.As far as he knew Thrall, this was true, not nonsense.Also, there was no way a young boy knew how much Orcish Thrall didn't know. In the name of the Light...they might find him. There were other rumors about Thrall's location, and once again, Blackmoore left Dunholde to find clues.Terasa was in two moods, excited and conflicted.One was that she hoped the rumors were false and that Thrall was actually far away from where he claimed to be seen.The second was the indescribable relief in her heart whenever Blackmoore was away. She wandered around the woodland outside the castle as usual.It's safe these days, without the occasional bandit who just sneaks around the side of the main road.From a young age she had lovingly known that nothing would happen in the forest. She untied her hair and let it fall over her shoulders, enjoying their freedom.A woman should never have her hair untied.Teresa happily ran her fingers through her thick blond hair, shaking her head in defiance of the custom. Her gaze fell to the welt on her wrist.Involuntarily, he covered it with his other hand. No.She doesn't hide the shame that doesn't belong to her.Terasa forced herself to show the blue bruise.She must commit herself to him for the sake of her family.But she wasn't going to cover up the mistakes he made. Teresa took a deep breath.Only here, Blackmoore's shadow still seems to linger.She settled down, dispelled the haze in her heart, and raised her face to look at the sun. She came to the cave where Sal was sent off, and sat there for a while, hugging her slender legs tightly to her chest.There is no sign that anyone has been here for a long time.Then she got up and went to the tree where she had asked Thrall to hide the necklace she had given her.She searched under the tree roots for a long time, but found nothing shiny and silver.She was both relieved and sad.Terasa agonized over her correspondence with Thrall, listening to his kind, wise answers. If anyone else thinks the same way.Don't they know that orcs are no longer a threat?Don't they know that with a little education and a little respect, they'll be solid allies rather than enemies?She thought about all the money and time invested in the internment camps, how stupid and narrow-minded it was. Too bad she couldn't escape with Thrall.As Terasa walked slowly back to the castle, she heard the sound of horns.The master of Dunholde is back.All light and freedom in her heart disappeared, as if flowing from a torn wound. Whatever happened, at least Thrall was free, she thought.There is no end in sight to my days as a slave. Thrall lived and studied according to the orc tradition.Soon he was fluent, albeit with a thick accent, in Orcish.Instead of getting in the way of bringing down a doe, he could go out with the hunting party and help more and more.Despite his thick fingers, he learned to use tools to create traps for rabbits and other small animals effortlessly.Gradually, the Warsong clan accepted him.For the first time in his life, Thrall felt a sense of belonging. But word came of a search party.Lexac came back one night, looking angrier and worried than before. "There is news, my lord," he said to Hellscream. "You can say it in front of all of us," Hellscream said.They were all on the ground this night, enjoying the fruits of late autumn and the prey brought back by Thrall. Lexac glanced in Thrall's direction uncomfortably, and said. "Yes. The humans have begun sweeping the forest. They are dressed in red and gold, and each has a black raptor mark on their body." "Blackmoore," Thrall said.Is the person never going to let him be at ease?Is he going to chase all the way to the end of the world, drag Thrall back in chains, and recreate the twisted thrill of Blackmoore? No.He will take my own life before he agrees to go back to slavery again.He was eager to speak, but politely waited for Hellscream to answer his men. "As I suspected," Hellscream said, calmer than Thrall had imagined. Apparently, Lexac was taken aback, too. "My lord," he said, "this stranger Thrall has brought danger to us all. If they find our cave, then they show us that kindness. We would rather die in battle than die like lambs. Locked up!" "None of that is going to happen," Hellscream said. "Thal didn't put us in danger either. I made the decision to keep him. Do you have any doubts about that?" Lexac lowered his head. "No, Lord Chief." "Thall will stay," Hellscream announced. "Thank you, Great Warchief," Thrall said, "Lexac was right. I must go. I cannot put the Warsong clan in danger anymore. I will go, and make sure to give them a bogus route to Stalking, a clue to keep them away from you without letting them find me." Hellscream leaned over to Thrall, who sat to his right. "But we need you, Thrall," he said.His eyes gleamed in the dark. "I need you. We will move quickly, and then, free our brothers in the camp." But Thrall continued shaking his head. "Winter is coming. It's getting harder to feed an army. And... there are things I must do before I stand with you to free our brothers. You tell me you know my clan, Frostwolf .I have to find them and learn more about myself, who I am, where I come from, before I fight alongside you. I would have liked to go to them in the spring, but it seems that Blackmoore wants me to hurry up .” Hellscream stared at Thrall for a long time.The big orc kept looking into those red eyes too.Finally, Hellscream nodded mournfully. "Though vengeful rage burns within me, I think you are wise. Our brothers suffer in captivity, but that strange indolence may make it easier for them. There is still time enough for the sun of freedom to shine on On them. I don't know exactly where the Frostwolf clan resides, but I know in the bottom of my heart that if you try to find them, you will succeed." "I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Thrall said, his heart heavy.Across the dancing flames, he saw Lexac, who had never liked him, and nodded in agreement. The next morning, Thrall reluctantly met with the Warsong clan and Grom?Hellscream said goodbye. "I wish you could wear this," Hellscream said, pulling a bone necklace from his emaciated neck. "These are trophies from my first battle. I have carved my mark on them; any orc chieftain knows it." Thrall declined at first, but Hellscream parted his lips, baring his yellow fangs and roaring.To live up to the kindness of the warchief who had been so gracious to him, and to no longer hear the deafening roar, Thrall bowed his head and let Hellscream hang the necklace around his thick throat. "I will take the humans away from you," Thrall said again. "It's okay even if you don't," Hellscream said. "We'll tear them apart." He grinned gruffly, and Thrall joined him.Before the laughter fell, he set off towards the cold north, the place where he was born. For hours he detoured in the direction of the small village where he stole food and terrorized the villagers.He didn't come too close, for his keen ears had picked up the soldiers' voices.But he did leave some clues for Blackmoore's men to discover. He took out the swaddling cloth with the Frostwolf clan mark on it and tore off a chunk of it, even though it was killing him.He placed it on a jagged stake to the south of the village.He wanted the clue to be easy to spot, but not too obvious.He also made sure to leave several distinct footprints in the soft, muddy ground. Either way, Blackmoore's men would have found the easily identifiable strip, seen the footprints, and thought Thrall had gone south.He followed his steps carefully backwards—a tactic he had learned from books he had read—and followed the stones and hard earth for the next several paths. He looked towards the Alterac Mountains.Grom had told him that even in summer their peaks piercing the blue sky were white.Thrall intends to enter the center of the mountains, but he doesn't know where to go, just because the weather is about to start changing.It has snowed a few times, though not much.It won't be long before the snow falls, covering the entire mountain range. The Warsong clan gave him good supplies.They gave him several strips of dried meat, a waterskin with which he could collect and melt snow, a thick shawl to protect him from the harshest winds, and several rabbit traps by which he could supplement his food. Somewhere, a kind stranger and a human girl helped him get to where he is today.Grom has said that Thrall will play a role.He had to believe that, if this were indeed true, he would be led to his destiny as he has been led to this day. Thrall swung the pack over his back, and without looking back, walked toward the mountains that were calling him, somewhere among the rolling peaks and hidden valleys was the home of the Frostwolf clan.