valor and strength. He told of charges made against impossible odds, of heroic deeds, and of humans falling beneath a relentless green tide of orcs united in purpose. He spoke wistfully of a spiritual people as well, something Thrall had never heard of.
“Oh, yes,” Kelgar said sadly. “Once, before we were the proud, battle-hungry Horde, we were individual clans. And in those clans were those who knew the magic of wind and water, of sky and land, of all thespirits of the wild, and they worked in harmony with those powers. We called them ‘shamans,’ and until the emergence of the warlocks, their skills were all we knew of power.”
The word seemed to make Kelgar angry. He spat and with the first rousing of any kind of passion, snarled, “Power! Does it feed our people, raise our young? Our leaders held it all themselves, and only the barest trickle dripped down to the rest of us. They did . . . something, Thrall. I do not know what. But once we were defeated, all desire to fight bled out of us as if from an open wound.” He lowered his head, placing it on arms folded across his knees, and closed his red eyes.
“Did all of you lose the desire to fight?” asked Thrall.
“All of us here. Those who fought weren’t captured, or if they were, they were killed as they resisted.” Kelgar kept his eyes closed.
Thrall respected the other orc’s need for silence. Disappointment filled him. Kelgar’s tale had the ring of truth about it, and for verification, all Thrall needed to do was look around him. What was this strange thing that had happened? How could an entire race of people have their natures so distorted as to end up here, defeated before they were even caught and thrown into this wretched hellhole?
“But the desire to fight is still strong in you, Thrall, though your name suggests otherwise.” His eyes were open again, and they seemed to burn into Thrall. “Perhaps your being raised by humans spared you this.There are others like you, still out there. The walls are not so high that you cannot climb them, if that is your wish.”
“It is,” said Thrall eagerly. “Tell me where I can find others like me.”
“The only one I have heard tell of is Grom Hellscream,” Kelgar said. “He remains undefeated. His people, the Warsong clan, came from the west of this land. That is all I can tell you. Grom has eyes like me, but his spirit still resisted.” Kelgar lowered his head. “If only I had been as strong.”
“You can be,” said Thrall. “Come with me, Kelgar. I am strong, I can easily pull you up over the walls if —”
Kelgar shook his head. “It is not the strength that is gone, Thrall. I could kill the guards in a heartbeat. Anyone here could. It’s the desire. I do not wish to try to climb the walls. I want to stay here. I can’t explain it, and I am ashamed, but that is the truth. You will have to have the passion, the fire, for all of us here.”
Thrall nodded his acceptance, though he could not understand. Who wouldn’t want to be free? Who wouldn’t want to fight, to gain back all that had been taken, to make the unjust humans pay for what they had done to his people? But it was clear: Of all of the orcs present, he was the only one who would dare lift a defiant fist in challenge.
He would wait until nightfall. Kelgar said there was only a skeleton roster of guardsmen, and they often drank themselves into a stupor. If Thrall simply continuedto pretend he was like all the other orcs, he felt certain his opportunity would come.
At that moment, a female orc approached. She moved with a sense of purpose rarely seen here, and Thrall stood as it became clear that she was heading for him.
“You are the newly captured orc?” she asked, in human speech.
Thrall nodded. “My name is Thrall.”
“Then, Thrall, you had best know that the commander of the encampments is coming for you.”
“What is his name?” Thrall went cold inside as he feared the worst.
“I do not know, but
“Oh, yes,” Kelgar said sadly. “Once, before we were the proud, battle-hungry Horde, we were individual clans. And in those clans were those who knew the magic of wind and water, of sky and land, of all thespirits of the wild, and they worked in harmony with those powers. We called them ‘shamans,’ and until the emergence of the warlocks, their skills were all we knew of power.”
The word seemed to make Kelgar angry. He spat and with the first rousing of any kind of passion, snarled, “Power! Does it feed our people, raise our young? Our leaders held it all themselves, and only the barest trickle dripped down to the rest of us. They did . . . something, Thrall. I do not know what. But once we were defeated, all desire to fight bled out of us as if from an open wound.” He lowered his head, placing it on arms folded across his knees, and closed his red eyes.
“Did all of you lose the desire to fight?” asked Thrall.
“All of us here. Those who fought weren’t captured, or if they were, they were killed as they resisted.” Kelgar kept his eyes closed.
Thrall respected the other orc’s need for silence. Disappointment filled him. Kelgar’s tale had the ring of truth about it, and for verification, all Thrall needed to do was look around him. What was this strange thing that had happened? How could an entire race of people have their natures so distorted as to end up here, defeated before they were even caught and thrown into this wretched hellhole?
“But the desire to fight is still strong in you, Thrall, though your name suggests otherwise.” His eyes were open again, and they seemed to burn into Thrall. “Perhaps your being raised by humans spared you this.There are others like you, still out there. The walls are not so high that you cannot climb them, if that is your wish.”
“It is,” said Thrall eagerly. “Tell me where I can find others like me.”
“The only one I have heard tell of is Grom Hellscream,” Kelgar said. “He remains undefeated. His people, the Warsong clan, came from the west of this land. That is all I can tell you. Grom has eyes like me, but his spirit still resisted.” Kelgar lowered his head. “If only I had been as strong.”
“You can be,” said Thrall. “Come with me, Kelgar. I am strong, I can easily pull you up over the walls if —”
Kelgar shook his head. “It is not the strength that is gone, Thrall. I could kill the guards in a heartbeat. Anyone here could. It’s the desire. I do not wish to try to climb the walls. I want to stay here. I can’t explain it, and I am ashamed, but that is the truth. You will have to have the passion, the fire, for all of us here.”
Thrall nodded his acceptance, though he could not understand. Who wouldn’t want to be free? Who wouldn’t want to fight, to gain back all that had been taken, to make the unjust humans pay for what they had done to his people? But it was clear: Of all of the orcs present, he was the only one who would dare lift a defiant fist in challenge.
He would wait until nightfall. Kelgar said there was only a skeleton roster of guardsmen, and they often drank themselves into a stupor. If Thrall simply continuedto pretend he was like all the other orcs, he felt certain his opportunity would come.
At that moment, a female orc approached. She moved with a sense of purpose rarely seen here, and Thrall stood as it became clear that she was heading for him.
“You are the newly captured orc?” she asked, in human speech.
Thrall nodded. “My name is Thrall.”
“Then, Thrall, you had best know that the commander of the encampments is coming for you.”
“What is his name?” Thrall went cold inside as he feared the worst.
“I do not know, but
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