魔兽争霸官方小说:仇恨之轮-Cycle of Hatred(英文版)-第15部分

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Honestly；　they　don　t　teach　you　young　mages　anything　these　days。　Violet　Citadel　s　gone　to　pot；　and　that　s　the
truth。　　

Jaina　dropped　the　concealment。　The　woman　barely　reacted　beyond　making　a　tsk　noise　while　lowering　the　rope。　

My　name　is　Lady　Jaina　Proudmoore。　I　rule　Theramore；　the　human　city　on　this　continent。　　

Good　for　you。　When　you　get　back　to　this　Theramore　place；　work　on　that　concealment　spell。　Couldn　t　hide　from　a　
bloodhound　with　a　cold　with　that　thing。　　

Her　mind　reeling；　Jaina　realized　that　this　woman　couldn　t　possibly　be　anyone　but　who　she　thought　it　was；
impossible　as　that　might　have　been。　Magna；　it　s　an　honor　to　meet　you。　I　had　thought　that　you　were

Dead？　　The　woman　snorted　as　she　started　pulling　the　rope　back　up；　her　mouth　showing　the　signs　of　the　greater
strain　of　lifting　a　waterfilled　bucket。　I　am　dead；　Lady　Jaina　Proudmoore　of　Theramore　or　as　close　as　makes　no
never　mind。　And　don　t　go　calling　me　Magna。　　That　was　another　time　and　another　place；　and　I　m　not　that　woman
anymore。　　

The　title　is　not　one　you　lose；　Magna。　And　I　cannot　bring　myself　to　call　you　anything　else。　　

Balderdash。　If　you　re　gonna　call　me　anything；　call　me　by　my　name。　Call　me　Aegwynn。　　

Nine　
　
F　or　many　years；　Rexxar；　last　of　the　Mok　Nathal　Clan；　walked　the　continent　of　Kalimdor　alone；　save　for　the
pany　of　the　big　brown　bear；　Misha。　Born　of　orc　and　ogre　blood　both；　as　most　of　his　nowdefunct　clan；　he　had
grown　weary　of　the　squabbling　and　ruthlessness　and　endless　war　that　characterized　what　was　laughingly　referred　to
as　civilization。　In　truth；　Rexxar　found　more　civilization　in　Misha　s　fellow　bears　or　the　wolves　of　Winterspring　than
in　any　of　the　human；　dwarven；　elven；　or　troll　cities　that　marred　the　landscape。　

No；　Rexxar　preferred　to　wander；　living　off　the　land；　and　being　answerable　to　none。　If　he　ever　felt　the　urge　to　call　a　
place　home；　he　knew　that　he　had　one　in　Durotar。　During　the　founding　of　the　orc　nation；　Rexxar　had　e　to　the　aid
of　a　dying　orc　who　was　charged　with　bringing　a　message　to　Thrall。　Granting　the　warrior　his　final　wish；　Rexxar　had
brought　Thrall　the　report；　and　found　himself　amid　orcs　who　had　gone　back　to　the　old　ways；　before　Gul　dan　and　his　
Shadow　Council　destroyed　a　oncegreat　people。　

But；　though　Rexxar　was　honored　to　call　Thrall　a　rade　and　swear　fealty　to　him；　and　was　happy　to　fulfill　that　oath
by　aiding　the　orcs　against　Admiral　Proudmoore　s　treachery；　among　other　services；　in　the　end；　Rexxar　preferred　to
wander。　Even　as　great　a　nation　as　Durotar　had　towns　and　settlements　and　order。　Rexxar　was　built　for　the　chaos　of
the　wild。　

Without　warning；　Misha　broke　into　a　run。　

Hesitating　for　but　a　second；　Rexxar　followed　his　panion。　He　couldn　t　hope　to　keep　up　with　the　fourlegged
animal　s　loping　gait；　of　course；　but　the　halfbreed　s　powerful　legs　were　enough　to　keep　him　within　sight　of　her。
Misha　wouldn　t　bolt　from　her　panion　s　side　without　good　reason。　

They　were　in　a　region　near　the　coast；　filled　with　high　grass。　Though　lesser　beings　might　have　found　the　terrain
difficult　to　cross；　Rexxar　and　Misha　had　sufficient　strength　to　bend　the　grasses　to　their　will。　

It　was　only　a　minute　later　that　Misha　came　to　a　halt；　her　snout　invisible　as　it　dipped　into　the　shoulderhigh　blades。
Rexxar　slowed　down　and　put　his　hand　to　the　hilt　of　one　of　the　axes　strapped　to　his　back。　

What　he　found　what　Misha　had　scented　was　the　body　of　a　fullblooded　orc。　Rexxar　knew　this　because　a　
considerable　amount　of　its　blood　had　been　shed。　

His　hands　falling　to　his　side；　Rexxar　shook　his　head。　A　fallen　warrior。　It　is　only　a　pity　that　he　died　alone；　without
rades　to　aid　him　in　battle。　　

Before　the　halfbreed　wanderer　could　contemplate　putting　the　brave　orc　s　soul　to　rest；　he　heard　a　whisper。　

Not…dead…yet…　　

Misha　made　a　yowling　noise；　as　if　surprised　that　the　orc　could　speak。　Peering　down　closely　at　what　he　had　believed
to　be　a　corpse；　Rexxar　saw　that　the　orc　had　lost　an　eye。　The　dead　socket　was　healed　over；　so　the　wound　had　not
been　inflicted　by　the　same　hand　or　hands　that　had　brought　him　to　the　brink　now。　

Burning…Blade…must…get…to…rimmar。　Thrall…warned。　Burning…Blade…　　

Rexxar　knew　not　what　was　so　important　about　a　blade　that　burned；　but　this　warrior　was　obviously　clinging　to　life　
only　because　he　had　yet　to　provide　the　necessary　intelligence　to　Thrall。　Recalling　the　oath　he　had　sworn　to　the　
Warchief；　Rexxar　asked；　　What　is　your　name？　　

By　Byrok。　　

Fear　not；　noble　Byrok。　I　am　Rexxar　of　the　Mok　Nathal；　and　I　swear　to　you　that　Misha　and　I　will　see　you　brought　to
rimmar　to　deliver　your　warning　to　the　Warchief。　　

Rexxar…you…are　known…to　me…We…must…make　haste…　　
　
The　halfbreed　could　not　say　the　same　of　this　Byrok；　but　it　mattered　not。　With　a　gentleness　he　rarely　had　cause　to
employ；　he　lifted　Byrok　s　bleeding　form　and　lay　him　across　Misha　s　expansive　back。　The　bear　bore　the　weight　with
no　protest　though　they　had　sworn　no　actual　oath；　the　bond　between　Rexxar　and　Misha　was　unbreakable。　If　Rexxar
desired　it；　Misha　would　do　it。　

Without　another　word；　they　turned　westward　toward　rimmar。　



The　first　time　Rexxar　came　to　rimmar；　it　was　still　being　built。　Around　him　had　been　many　dozens　of　orcs
building　structures；　clearing　pathways；　and　transforming　the　harsh　wilderness　of　Kalimdor　into　a　home。　

Upon　his　return　now；　that　work　had　been　done；　but　there　were　still　many　dozens　of　orcs　visible　through　the　gates；
engaged　in　the　daytoday　business　of　life。　Though　he　had　little　use　for　civilization；　Rexxar　did　feel　pride　and　joy　in
what　he　saw。　Since　ing　to　this　world；　his　mother　s　people　had　either　been　cursed　tools　of　Gul　dan　s　demonic　
masters　or　broken　slaves　of　their　human　enemies。　If　orcs　were　to　live　in　this　world；　better　it　be　on　their　own　terms。　

Surrounded　on　three　sides　by　hills；　a　massive　stone　wall　had　been　built　on　the　city　s　fourth　side。　Reinforced　with
giant　wooden　logs；　the　wall　was　broken　only　by　a　large　wooden　gate；　currently　open；　and　two　wooden　watchtowers。
Atop　the　wall　were　more　logs；　sharpened　to　a　point　to　discourage　enemies　from　storming　the　gates；　and　poles　with　
pointed　ends。　The　crimson　flag　of　the　Horde　hung　from　both　towers　and　from　some　of　the　poles。　

It　was；　Rexxar　thought；　a　fearsome　sight；　fitting　for　the　home　of　the　mightiest　warriors　in　the　world。　

A　guard　wielding　a　spear　approached　from　the　gate。　Who　goes　there？　　

I　am　Rexxar；　last　son　of　the　Mok　Nathal。　I　bear　Byrok；　who　has　been　injured；　and　carries　a　message　for　Warchief
Thrall。　　

The　guard　scowled；　then　looked　up　at　one　of　the　watchtowers。　The　warrior　stationed　there　yelled　down；　It　s　all　
right；　I　remember　that　one　and　his　bear。　Know　that　wolf　shead　mask　anywhere。　He　s　a　friend　to　the　Warchief。
Let　him　in！　　Rexxar　wore　the　hollowedout　head　of　a　wolf　he　had　slain　on　his　crown。　It　served　as　protection　for　his
head　and　an　image　of　fear　for　his　enemies。　

Satisfied　with　that；　the　guard　stepped　aside；　allowing　Rexxar；　Misha；　and　the　bear　s　burden　to　enter　rimmar。　

The　orc　city　was　built　within　a　huge　ravine；　with　traditional　hexagonal　structures　built　into　the　sides　of　the　ravine　as
well　as　the　recesses。　As　he　walked　through　the　Valley　of　Honor；　where　the　gate　was　built；　toward　the　Valley　of
Wisdom；　where　Thrall　s　throne　room　was　housed；　Rexxar　was　both　fascinated　and　appalled。　The　former　because
the　orcs　had　e　so　far　in　a　mere　three　summers。　The　latter　because　it　was　yet　another　city　in　a　world　that　had　too
many　of　them　already。　

When　he　was　about　halfway　to　the　Valley　of　Wisdom；　he　was　met　by　the　familiar　site　of　a　mediumheight　orc：
Nazgrel；　the　head　of　Thrall　s　security；　along　with　four　of　his　guards。　Greetings；　last　son　of　the　Mok　Nathal。　It　has
been　far　too　long。　　

Out　of　respect；　Rexxar　removed　his　headgear。　Since　seeing　you；　Nazgrel；　yes　since　being　in　the　city；　no。　But　I　
did　swear　an　oath　to　Thrall；　and　I　would　not　leave　this　noble　warrior　to　die　in　the　grass。　　

Nazgrel　nodded。　We　have　e　to　escort　you　to　him　and　the　shaman　has　been　summoned　as　well；　to　tend　to
Byrok。　We　ve　also　e　to　relieve　Misha　of　her　burden。　　At　a　gesture　from　Nazgrel；　two　of　the　guards　lifted　the
bleeding　form　of　Byrok　from　Misha　s　back。　At　first；　the　bear　started　a　growl；　but　at　a　look　from　Rexxar；　she　backed
down。　
　
They　proceeded　through　the　long　and　winding　roads　of　rimmar　to　the　large　hexagonal　building　at　the　far　side　of
the　Valley　of　Wisdom。　Thrall　was　waiting　for　him　in　the　throne　room；　which　Rexxar　found　to　be　as　cold　as
Frostsaber　Rock。　Thrall　sat　on　his　throne；　with　the　wizened　shaman　Kalthar　standing　on　one　side　of　the　throne；　and
an　orc　Rexxar　did　not　know　on　the　other。　When　the　guards　had　placed　Byrok　on　the　floor　in　front　of　the　throne；
Kalthar　moved　to　kneel　at　the　warrior　s　side。　

Shivering　slightly；　Rexxar　saluted　the　Warchief。　I　bid　you　greetings；　Warchief　of　the　Horde。　　

Thrall　smiled。　It　is　very　good　to　see　you　again；　my　friend　I　only　wish　it　would　not　take　one　of　my　people　being　
beaten　to　neardeath　to　bring　you　back　to　rimmar　s　gates。　　

It　is　not　my　way　to　live　among　citydwellers；　Warchief　as　you　well　know。　　

Indeed；　I　do。　Still；　you　have　again　done　us　a　great　service。　　He　turned　to　the　shaman。　How　is　he