Cycle of Hatred

Seven

The stone—walled room that housed Thrall's seat of power as Warchief of the Horde was chilly. Thrall liked it that way—orcs were not creatures of cold, so they were uncomfortable here. He found that it was best for people not to be comfortable while in the presence of their leader. So when the place was constructed, he had made sure the stonework was thick and there were no windows. Illumination was provided only by lanterns, rather than torches, since they gave off less heat.

Not that it was ever so cold as to be truly unpleasant. He did not want his people to suffer when they were petitioning him, but nor did he want them to be entirely at ease. It had been a difficult road that Thrall had traveled, and he knew how precious—and precarious—his current position was. He would therefore take advantage of every opportunity he could, even so minor a one as keeping his throne room a bit on the cold side.

He met now with Kalthar, his shaman, and Burx, his strongest warrior. Both stood before Thrall, who sat on the leather chair made from the hides of creatures Thrall himself had slain.

"The humans are still in Northwatch Keep. Last we heard, a ship with more troops was showing up. Sounds to me like they're reinforcing."

"Hardly." Thrall leaned back in his chair. "Lady Proudmoore informed me that she was sending one of her warriors to investigate Captain Bolik's report."

Burx drew himself up. "They don't trust a warrior's word?"

Kalthar, whose green skin had grown pale and wrinkled with age, laughed throatily. "I am sure, Burx, that they trust the word of an orc as much as you would trust the word of a human."

"Humans are cowardly and despicable," Burx said dismissively.

"The humans of Theramore are no such thing." Thrall leaned forward. "And I will not hear them being spoken ill of in my presence again."

Burx stamped his foot. Thrall had to restrain a laugh at the warrior's expense. The gesture reminded Thrall of a human child throwing a temper tantrum; however, among orcs, the action was a legitimate sign of displeasure. For all he was lord of the clans, there were times when Thrall had to forcibly remind himself that he had not been raised among his own kind.

"This is our land, Thrall! Ours! The humans don't have any claim to it. Let them go back across the Great Sea where they belong and let us get back to what life was like before the demons cursed us—away from all foul influences, mortal or not."

Thrall shook his head. He'd thought these arguments had ended two years ago. "The humans occupy the harshest land on Kalimdor, and precious little of it. We didn't even take the Dustwallow Marshes. Jaina's people—"

" ‘Jaina'?" Burx sneered the name.

Now Thrall stood. "Be very careful, Burx. Lady Proudmoore—Jaina—has earned my respect. You, on the other hand, are rapidly losing it."

Burx cowered a bit. "I'm sorry, Warchief—but you gotta understand, you were raised with them. It can sometimes—blind you to what's obvious to the rest of us."

"I am blind to nothing, Burx. You may recall that it was I who opened the eyes of orcs throughout this world who had fallen prey to the demonic curse and to human imprisonment, and reminded them of who they were. Do not presume to lecture me now on—"

They were interrupted by a breathless young orc who ran in. "Thunder lizards!"

Thrall blinked. Thunder Ridge, the home of the creatures in question, was far from here—if there were any in Orgrimmar, there would have been greater warning.

"Where?" Burx asked.

"Far from here, obviously," Kalthar said witheringly, "otherwise there would have been more than a young messenger."

The boy did indeed wear the lightning—shaped nose ring that indicated a messenger. No doubt he had run from Thunder Ridge to report to Thrall. "Speak," Thrall said to the youth.

"I'm from Drygulch Ravine, Warchief. The thunder lizards, they've escaped the ridge, they have."

"How's that possible?" Burx asked.

Glaring at the warrior, Thrall said, "Let him speak, and perhaps we shall learn." To the boy, he said, "Continue."

"A farmer, name of Tulk, he heard himself a stampede. He went callin' his sons to him, and they drove the lizards off, they did, afore they destroyed his crops. But nobody never heard of no thunder lizards leavin' the ridge afore, so he went gatherin' up his sons and the next farmer over and his sons, and they all went to the ridge, they did."

Thrall nodded. Thunder Ridge was bordered by a dense forest of thick—trunked trees that the lizards could not rampage through. One could travel gingerly or lithely through the forests, but thunder lizards were never creatures who moved thus.

"When they got there, they saw that the forest had been razed down to nothin', it had. Lizards, they got themselves a clear path outta the ridge. The farmers are fearin' for their crops, they are."

Thrall, however, was still back on the first part. "Razed? Razed how, precisely?"

"The trees, they was all cut down. Stumps left was only a handswidth or so above the ground."

Burx asked, "Where were they taken?"

The boy shrugged. "Dunno. They didn't see no branches, nothin', just the stumps."

Shaking his head, Thrall asked, "How is this possible?"

"Don't see how it is possible, Warchief," the boy said, "but that's what happened, sure as I'm talkin' to you."

"You've done well." Thrall saluted the boy. "Find yourself some food and drink. There may be more questions for you after you've had your fill."

Nodding, the boy said, "Thank you, Warchief," and ran out.

"The humans," Burx said as soon as the boy had left the throne room. "It's gotta be. They've asked for wood from the trees in Thunder Ridge lots of times. Certainly no orc would defile the land like that."

Although Thrall was reluctant to believe ill of the humans, Burx was right that no orc of Durotar would do such a thing. "They could not have transported so much lumber from Thunder Ridge to the coast without anyone noticing. If they went by land, they'd be seen—same if they went by airship."

"There is a third way," Kalthar said.

Sighing, Thrall shook his head again. "Magic."

"Yes, magic," Burx said. "And the most powerful wizard in Theramore is your precious Lady Proudmoore—Jaina herself."

"It is not Lady Proudmoore," Kalthar said. "This defiling of the land is reprehensible—and the humans are both responsible, and not responsible."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Burx asked angrily.

"You speak in riddles," Thrall said. Then he laughed. "As usual."

"There are great forces at work here, Thrall," Kalthar said. "Powerful sorcery."

Burx stomped his foot again. "Lady Proudmoore has powerful sorcery. The humans got every reason to want those trees. It gives them stronger wood for their boats—which makes it easier for them to harass our trading ships. Plus, it lets the thunder lizards loose, which messes up our farms." Burx walked up in front of Thrall's throne, his face so close that his and Thrall's tusks almost touched. "It fits, Warchief. And you know it."

In a low tone, Thrall said, "What I know, Burx, is that Lady Proudmoore stood against her own father rather than destroy the alliance between Durotar and Theramore. Do you truly think she would abandon it now over trees?"

Burx backed off, throwing up his arms. "Who can say how humans think?"

"I can. As you were so quick to point out before, Burx, I was raised with humans—I have seen both the best and the worst humanity has to offer. And I can tell you now that, while there are most definitely humans who would do this, Jaina Proudmoore is not one of them."

Folding his arms defiantly in front of his chest, Burx said, "There aren't any other human mages on Kalimdor that we know about. Who's that leave, Warchief?"

"I do not know." Thrall smiled. "When Lieutenant Blackmoore had me educated like a human, he had me read many philosophical and scientific treatises. Something that stood out in those lessons was one comment—that the beginning of wisdom is the statement ‘I do not know. The person who cannot make that statement is one who will never learn anything. And I have prided myself on my ability to learn, Burx." He stood again. "Send warriors to Drygulch. Try to corral the thunder lizards. Provide whatever aid they need to bring this problem under control." Then he faced Kaltnar. "Fetch the talisman. I would speak to Lady Proudmoore."

"We should take action!" Burx stomped his foot again, even as Kalthar slowly walked out of the room to do as Thrall had instructed. "We should not be talking."

"Talking is the second step to learning things, Burx. I intend to learn who was responsible for this. Now go and follow my instructions."

Burx started to say something, but Thrall would not let him.

"There will be no more from you, Burx! You have made your position quite clear! However, I think even you will agree that the needs of Drygulch are more immediate. Now go and do as I have said before our farms truly are devastated."

"Of course, Warchief," Burx said. He saluted as the boy had, and then departed.

Thrall hoped that his defense of Jaina was earned. In his heart, he knew it was. But if Jaina Proudmoore did not steal their trees and let loose the thunder lizards—who did?