Chapter 18 Chapter Seventeen

When Thrall came to Langdon full of grief and anger, Langdon was relentlessly wrestling with restless roots and desperately trying to sit up.As Thrall towered over him in his legendary black armor, he recoiled in terror, tears welling in his eyes. "I should have killed you," Thrall said darkly.The image of Doomhammer before his death still clearly appeared in front of his eyes. Langston licked his red, full lips. "Forgive me, Lord Thrall," he begged. Thrall knelt on one knee, bringing his face inches from Langdon's. "Then when have you ever been kind to me?" he growled.Langston's voice cringed. "When did you say, 'Blackmore, maybe you hit him enough,' or 'Blackmore, he tried his best'? When did those words come out of your lips? "

"That's what I was trying to do..." Langston said. "Now you want to say those things," Thrall said, standing up again, looking down at his captain, "but I have no doubt that you never thought of that. Let's talk frankly. Your life is important to me. There is still some value-temporary. If you tell me what I want to know, I can let you and others go, and you can go back to your master and continue to be a lackey." Langton looked at Thrall in surprise, " I promise you," Thrall added. "What's the value of what I say to an orc?" Langdon took a while to make up his mind.

"He's worth your poor life, Langdon. Of course I agree with you, it's not worth much. Now, tell me. How do you know which camp we're going to attack? Are there any spies in my army? " Langdon, looking like a sullen child, refused to answer.Thrall made a thought, and the tree roots wrapped around Langdon tightened.Panting tremblingly, he stared at Thrall. "That's right," Thrall said, "these trees obey my orders, just like the elementals do." It is not necessary for Langdon to know the relationship between the shaman and the elemental in return, it is better for him to think that the shaman Will has complete control over them, "Answer my question."

"No spies," Langston muttered.The roots on his chest weighed on him making it hard to breathe.Thrall asked the roots to loosen a little, and the tree complied. "Blackmoore has knights in every camp." "So no matter where we attack, we will encounter his men?" Langton nodded. "It's not a wise use of resources like this, but at least it worked this time. What else are you going to tell me? What is Blackmoore doing now to get me back? How many troops does he have? Or do you want the trees root up your throat?" The tree roots gently rubbed Langdon's neck cooperatively.All of Langton's defenses instantly shattered like a glass dropped on the stone floor.Tears welled from his eyes and he whimpered.Thrall looked at him in disgust, but he still tried to pay attention to every word Langston said.Without thinking, the poor knight reported a series of numbers, dates, plans, and even the gossip that Blackmoore leaked while drinking, and hoped that relying on them would influence his evaluation.

"He very much wants you back, Thrall." Langdon said nasally, peering at Thrall with red eyes, "You are the key to all of this." A timely alert was exactly what Thrall wanted. "Explain." As the roots that bound the body fell, Langston was so inspired that he was even more eager to confide everything he knew. "The key to all of this," he repeated, "was when he found you, he knew he could use you. At first just as a gladiator, but soon enough he wasn't content with that." He wiped Touching his wet face and trying to restore his lost dignity, "Don't you wonder why he taught you to read? Give you maps, teach you the game of eagle and rabbit and military strategy?"

Thrall nodded, nervously waiting for him to continue. "Because he already wanted you to command an army. An army of orcs." Anger swept Thrall like a flood. "You are lying. Why does Blackmoore want me to lead his opponent?" "But they—you—shouldn't be rivals," Langston said. "The orc army you'll lead is to fight the Alliance." Sal yawned.He couldn't believe what he was hearing.The Blackmoore he knew was a ruthless, cunning bastard, but now... things had taken him by surprise, and Blackmoore was going to use Thrall against his kind!There is no doubt that this must be a lie.But Langston looked sincere, and when the initial shock subsided, Thrall realized that Blackmoore was planning to make a big deal.

"You are the best on either side of the world," Langston continued, "with the strength, size, and bloodlust of an orc, as well as the wisdom and strategy of a human, you will command the orcs to be invincible." "Then Edras Blackmoore is no longer just a little lieutenant, but... what? King? Absolute monarch? Master of everything?" Langdon nodded vigorously. "You can't imagine what he was like when you ran away. It was a tough time for all of us." "Hard?" Thrall yelled. "I was beaten and kicked so that I felt inferior! I faced death every day in the arena. My people and I fought for our own survival. We fought for Fight for freedom. That, Langston, is hard work. Don't tell me about your pains and difficulties, of which you have only scratched the surface."

Langston fell silent as Thrall pondered what he had just learned.It was certainly a bold and innovative strategy, and so, whatever his faults, Blackmoore was a bold and flexible man.Thrall learned of some of the shameful history of the Blackmoore family here and there.Edras is always eager to erase the stain on his name, but maybe those stains have not only stayed on his name.Perhaps they had penetrated to the marrow of his bones—or to his heart. But why, if Blackmoore's plan depends entirely on Thrall's loyalty, why doesn't he treat Thrall better?Things Thrall hadn't recalled in years suddenly came flooding back: a laughing Blackmoore and a funny game of hawk and hare; A loving hand on his shoulder after a question of strategy fraught with pitfalls.

Blackmoore always evokes all kinds of emotions in Thrall.Fear, adore, hate, scorn.But for the first time in his life, Thrall realized that, in many ways, Blackmoore had shown mercy.At that time, Thrall wondered why Blackmoore was sometimes so tolerant and cheerful, with clear and profound words, and other times so cruel and vicious, full of insults and unnatural cacophony.Now he understood; Blackmoore was a man caught in the claws of fate as a rabbit is caught by an eagle; Brilliant strategist and warrior degenerates into a cowardly, vicious, bullying bastard.Blackmoore is likely treating Thrall in a way he thinks is good.

Thrall is no longer outraged.He felt sorry for Blackmoore deeply, but that feeling wouldn't change anything.He still longs to liberate the concentration camps and help the orcs rediscover the power of their ancestral traditions.Blackmoore stood in his way, an obstacle that must be removed. He looked down again at Langston, who, sensing the change in him, managed to smile at him, though it made his face look even more distorted in pain. "I will keep my promise," Thrall said, "you and your men will be free. You may go now. No weapons, no food, no mounts, and I will send men to follow you, but you will not watch to your stalkers; if you dare speak to any ambush, or plan an attack of any kind, you will die. Do you understand?"

Langdon nodded.There was a jerk on his head, and Thrall signaled that he could leave.There was no need to urge him any more, Langdon scrambled and ran away.Thrall watched as he and the other disarmed knights ran off into the darkness.He looked up into the bushes and felt the owl watching him with shining eyes.The nocturnal bird called softly. Follow him, my friend, if you can.Come back and let me know as soon as you find out they're going against us. With a rustle of wings, the owl sprang from the branch and followed the fleeing ones.Sal sighed deeply.The strength that had sustained him through this long, bloody night was slowly receding, and he realized he was traumatized and worn out.But these can be taken care of later.He has a more important duty to fulfill. Searching and preparing the body took all the rest of the night, and by morning thick black smoke curled into the blue sky.Thrall and Drek'Thar begged the soul of fire to make the fire burn hotter and faster, so that the cremation speed of the corpses was greatly increased, and the ashes were blown far away by the soul of the wind. The largest, richly decorated funeral pyre was for the most honorable of them all.Thrall, Hellscream, and two others will be Orgrim.Doomhammer's burly and sturdy body was raised high, and he walked towards the funeral pyre.Drek'Thar murmured something Thrall couldn't hear as he religiously anointed Doomhammer's nearly naked corpse.A sweet scent emanated from Doomhammer's body, and Drek'Thar motioned for Thrall's help, and they put the corpse into a defiant pose.The dead man's fingers were gathered together and carefully tied to a broken sword.At Doomhammer's feet lay other brave warriors who had fallen in battle—the white wolves, fierce and loyal, who could not escape the weapons of men.One was close to Doomhammer's feet, the other two were by his side, and on Doomhammer's chest, in this place of glory, lay the grey, fearless Sharp Ear .Drek'Thar patted his old friend one last time, then stood up and backed away with Thrall. "I haven't lived long with my people," Thrall said, "and I don't know what traditions are followed when a man dies. What I do know is that Doomhammer is as brave as an orc can imagine. He died the way he died. He fought tirelessly to free our trapped brethren. He will stand by us forever, and now we honor him in his death with the same honor he received in his life." He studied the dead orc's face , "Orgrim. Doomhammer, you were once my father's best friend. You are the noblest man I have ever known. Now you may go to Elysium, where your highest wishes await looking at you." Having said this, he closed his eyes and begged the Fire Soul to take the hero away.In an instant, the flames burned more violently than Thrall expected.The corpses were quickly consumed, and Thrall's summoned fire spirits would soon kill Orgrim.Not a trace of Doomhammer's body was cremated. But what he fought for, what he died for, will always be remembered. Thrall threw his head back and let out a deep, drawn-out growl.One by one, others joined him, shouting out their pain and passion.If there are really ancestor souls there, Orgrim will surely punish them.The mournful roar of Doomhammer's passing is unforgettable. After the funeral, Thrall sat down heavily next to Drek'Thar and Hellscream.Hellscream was as bruised as Thrall, but for the moment, he simply chose to endure.Despite his prowess, Drek'Thar was forbidden from approaching the front lines.Should anything happen to Thrall, Drek'Thar is their only shaman, a precious resource they cannot risk losing.Drek'Thar was not old enough to bother about these prohibitions, though. "Which camp are we going to next, my chief?" Hellscream said respectfully, Thrall flinching at his words.He hadn't quite adjusted to the fact that Doomhammer was gone, and now he had to lead hundreds of orcs. "There is no next concentration camp," he said. "Our strength is enough to give the enemy a big gift." Drek'Thar frowned. "They are suffering," he said. "They do," Thrall agreed, "but I have a plan that will liberate us all at once. To kill a monster, you must cut off its head, not just its hands or feet ...now is the time to behead the criminals of this concentration camp system." His eyes gleamed in the firelight. "We're going to surprise Dunholde." The next morning, he announced his plans to his troops, who greeted each other with huge wine glasses.They are ready, now, to meet any challenge of power.Thrall and Drek'Thar are always ready to call upon the elementals to help them.Last night's fighting had brought the Orcs back to life; some of them fell, though one was their greatest warrior, and the bodies of many enemies lay scattered around the barren camp ruins.People piled up coals and began to enjoy the feast of gratitude. They would face days of marching, but food was plentiful and morale was high.When the sun touched the highest point of the sky, the orc tribes marched neatly and purposefully towards Dunholden under the command of their new leader Thrall. "Of course I didn't give him a word," Langston said, sipping on Blackmoore's wine, "he caught me and tortured me, but I kept my faith, as I told you. Out of admiration for me, he let me and my people go." Blackmoore doubted the words in his heart, but he said nothing. "Tell me about the rest of this farce he played," he asked. Langston was delighted to have his master's approval, and he described vividly the roots that bound him, the lightning that obeyed, the well-trained horses suddenly abandoning their masters, and the scene that destroyed the stone wall. landslides and earthquakes.If Blackmoore hadn't heard similar stories from other men who had returned from the front, he would have thought that Langston must have been insane with alcohol. "My plan seems right," Blackmoore mused, taking another gulp of his drink, "just grab Thrall. You see what he's like, and what he does to those poor, depressed huddled together, something greenskins with no guts do." It pained Blackmoore to think of being so close to a newborn tribe of astonishing agility and strength.He thought bitterly of Terasa, and the letters of friendship between her and his slave.As usual, a strange, sharp pain ran through his heart.He let her go, never letting her know that he had found the letters.He hadn't even let Langdon know about it, and now he was sincerely grateful for his wisdom.He was convinced that Langston had probably given away everything he knew, and a change of plan was clearly necessary. "I'm afraid others have not been as steadfast in the face of orc torments as you, my friend," he said, trying but clearly failing to hide the sarcasm in his voice.Fortunately, Langston was buried in his glass at the time and didn't hear anything unusual. "We have to assume that the orcs already know all about us and want to do something about it. We have to think like Thrall. Where does he go next? What's his ultimate goal?" And hell, how am I supposed to get him back in my hands? Though he led a force of nearly two thousand men and was almost certain to have been spotted, Thrall did everything to disguise the Horde's progress.He asked the spirits of the earth to cover their tracks, and the spirits of the air to take their scent away from the beasts that would warn men.These efforts are small, but the results are immediate. He decided to camp in a virgin forest a few miles south of Dunholde.Thrall set off with a small party of scouts to identify a wooded area facing the fort.Both Hellscream and Drek'Thar advised Thrall not to take the risk, but he stuck to his guns. "I have a plan," he said, "that will get us straight to the point without all the unnecessary bloodshed."