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Hellscream grabbed Langston by the arm and led him to the stables. Thrall saw that, per his instructions,
his people who were not occupied with guarding the humans were busily taking provisions from the keep.
Horses, cattle, sheep, sacks of grain, bedding for bandages  all the things an army needed would soon
be provided to the new Horde.
There was one more man he needed to talk to, and after a moment, he found him. Sergeant s small
group of men had not surrendered their weapons, but neither were they actually using them. It was a
standoff, with both orcs and humans armed, but neither particularly desirous of escalating the conflict.
Sergeant s eyes narrowed warily when he saw Thrall approach. The circle of orcs parted to admit their
Warchief. For a long moment, Sergeant and Thrall regarded one another. Then, faster than even
Sergeant had credited him for, Thrall s hand was on Sergeant s earlobe, the golden hoop firmly between
his thick green fingers. Then, just as swiftly, Thrall released him, leaving the earring where it was.
 You taught me well, Sergeant, Thrall rumbled.
 You were a fine student, Thrall, Sergeant replied cautiously.
 Blackmoore is dead, said Thrall.  Your people are being led from the fortress and its provisions taken
even as we speak. Durnholde stands now only because I will it to stand. To illustrate his point, he
stamped, once, on the ground, and the earth shook violently.
 You taught me the concept of mercy. At this moment, you should be very glad of that lesson. I intend to
level Durnholde in a few moments. Your reinforcements will not arrive in time to be of any help to you. If
your men will surrender, they and their families will be permitted to leave. We will see to it that you have
food and water, even weapons. Those who do not surrender will die in the rubble. Without this fortress
and its knights to protect the camps, we will find it easy to liberate the rest of our people. That was
always my only goal.
 Was it? Sergeant said. Thrall knew he was thinking of Blackmoore.
 Justice was my goal, said Thrall.  And that has, and will be, served.
 Do I have your word that no one will come to harm?
 You do, said Thrall, lifting his head to look at his people.  If you offer us no resistance, you will be
permitted to walk out freely.
For answer, Sergeant tossed his weapon to the muddy earth. There was a silence, and then the armed
men did likewise. The battle was over.
When everyone, human and orc, was safely away from the fortress, Thrall called upon the Spirit of
Earth.
This place serves nothing good. It housed prisoners who had done no wrong, elevated evil to
great power. Let it fall. Let it fall.
He spread out his arms and began to stamp rhythmically on the earth. Closing his eyes, Thrall
remembered his tiny cell, Blackmoore s torture, the hatred and contempt in the eyes of the men he had
trained with. The memories were shockingly painful as he sifted through them, reliving them briefly before
letting them go.
Let it fall. Let it fall!
The earth rumbled, for the final time in this battle. The sound was ear-splitting as the mighty stone
buildings were pulverized. Earth churned upward, almost as if it was eating the fortress. Down it came,
the symbol to Thrall of everything he had fought against. When the earth was at last still, all that was left
of the mighty Durnholde was a pile of rocks and jagged pieces of wood. A huge cheer went up from the
orcs. The humans, haggard and haunted, simply stared.
In that pile, somewhere, was Aedelas Blackmoore s body.
 Until you bury him in your heart, you won t be able to bury him deep enough, came a voice by his
side. Thrall turned to look at Drek Thar.
 You are wise, Drek Thar, said Thrall.  Perhaps too wise.
 Was it good to kill him?
Thrall thought before answering.  It needed to be done, he said.  Blackmoore was poison, not just to
me, but to so many others. He hesitated.  Before I killed him, he . . . he said that he was proud of me.
That I was what he had made me. Drek Thar, the thought appalls me.
 Of course you are what Blackmoore made you, Drek Thar replied, surprising and sickening Thrall
with the answer. Gently, Drek Thar touched Thrall s armor-clad arm.
 And you are what Taretha made you. And Sergeant, and Hellscream, and Doomhammer, and I, and
even Snowsong. You are what each battle made you, and you are what you have made of yourself . . .
the lord of the clans. He bowed, then turned and left, guided by his attendant Palkar. Thrall watched
them go. He hoped that one day, he would be as wise as Drek Thar.
Hellscream approached.  The humans have been given food and water, my Warchief. Our outriders
report that the human reinforcements will shortly be closing in. We should leave.
 In a moment. I have a duty for you to perform. He extended a closed fist to Hellscream, then opened
it. A silver necklace with a crescent moon dropped into Hellscream s outstretched hand.  Find the
humans called Foxton. It is likely that they have only now learned about their daughter s murder. Give
this to them and tell them . . . tell them that I grieve with them. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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