魔兽争霸官方小说:仇恨之轮-Cycle of Hatred(英文版)-第16部分

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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？　　

He　will　survive　he　is　a　strong　one。　And　he　wishes　to　speak。　　

Can　he？　　Thrall　asked。　

Kalthar　sniffed。　Not　well；　but　I　doubt　he　will　allow　me　to　treat　him　properly　until　he　does。　　

I　must…sit　up…Help　me；　shaman。　　That　was　Byrok。　He　sounded　stronger　than　he　had　in　the　grasses；　but　not　by　
much。　

With　a　huge　sigh；　the　wizened　orc　gestured　to　Nazgrel　s　guards；　who　helped　Byrok　into　a　sitting　position。　

Hesitatingly；　pausing　many　times　for　breath；　Byrok　spoke　of　what　happened　to　him。　Rexxar　knew　nothing　of　the　
Burning　Blade；　but　the　others　did；　apparently　it　was　an　old　orc　clan。　

This　can　t　be　the　same　thing；　　the　orc　Rexxar　did　not　know　said。　

It　does　seem　unlikely；　it　s　true；　Burx；　　Thrall　said；　but　if　their　symbol　is　the　same

Burx　shook　his　head。　It　could　be　a　coincidence；　but　I　don　t　buy　that。　Besides；　I　ve　been　hearing　rumors　about　a
human　cult　that　s　been　building　up　in　Theramore。　They　re　called　the　Flaming　Sword。　It　might　be　that　one　of　them
had　some　of　our　people　as　slaves；　learned　of　the　symbol　that　way；　and　took　it　for　their　own　use。　　

Nazgrel　nodded。　I　ve　heard　some　of　those　rumors　as　well；　Warchief。　　

With　respect；　　Kalthar　said；　I　must　treat　this　man。　He　has　discharged　his　duty；　now　I　must　take　him　from　this
ridiculously　cold　throne　room　and　heal　him。　　

Of　course。　　Thrall　nodded；　and；　at　the　old　shaman　s　direction；　the　guards　took　Byrok　out　of　the　throne　room。　

Thrall　then　got　up　from　his　animalskin　throne　and　started　to　pace。　What　do　you　know　of　this　Flaming　Sword；
Nazgrel？　　

Nazgrel　shrugged。　Very　little　humans　gathering　in　their　homes　to　talk　about　things。　　

Burx　sneered。　Sitting　and　talking　are　things　the　humans　do　quite　well。　　

But　if　they　are　brash　enough　to　attack　an　orc　within　Durotar　s　borders；　　Nazgrel　added；　then　they　ve　bee　a　lot　
more　powerful　than　we　thought。　　

We　ve　got　to　respond；　　Burx　said。　It　s　only　a　matter　of　time　before　the　humans　attack　us。　　
　
Rexxar　thought　this　extreme。　You　would　condemn　an　entire　species　on　the　actions　of　six　of　them？　　

They　d　do　the　same　to　us　in　a　heartbeat；　　Burx　said。　And　unless　these　are　the　same　six　who　stole　our　trees；　and　
who　stood　around　and　did　nothing　while　orc　traders　were　attacked；　then　it　is　very　much　more　than　six　people。　　

Thrall　turned　to　face　Burx。　Theramore　is　our　ally；　Burx。　Jaina　would　not　allow　such　a　thing　to　gain　power。　　

She　may　not　have　any　control　over　this；　　Nazgrel　said。　For　all　her　power；　for　all　she　has　earned　our　respect；　she　is
but　one　human　female。　　

Rexxar　remembered　Jaina　Proudmoore　as　the　only　honorable　human　he　d　ever　met。　When　faced　with　a　choice　
between　siding　with　her　father；　her　very　flesh　and　blood；　and　honoring　a　promise　to　an　orc；　she　chose　the　latter。
That　choice　saved　Durotar　from　being　destroyed　before　it　was　finished。　The　Lady　Proudmoore；　　he　said；　will　do
what　is　right。　　

Shaking　his　head；　Burx　said；　Your　confidence　is　touching；　Mok　Nathal；　but　misplaced。　Do　you　really　think　that　a　
woman　can　change　decades　of　human　evil？　They　fought　us　and　killed　us　and　enslaved　us！　Do　you　think　that　will
change　just　because　one　person　says　so？　　

The　orcs　changed　because　one　person　said　so；　　Rexxar　said　quietly。　That　person　stands　before　you　now　as
Warchief。　Do　you　doubt　him？　　

At　that；　Burx　backed　down。　Of　course　not。　But

Thrall；　however；　had　obviously　made　his　decision。　He　sat　back　down　on　the　throne；　refusing　to　let　Burx　finish。　I　
know　what　Jaina　is　capable　of；　and　I　know　her　heart。　She　will　not　betray　us；　and　if　there　are　vipers　in　her　midst；
both　the　Horde　and　the　most　powerful　wizard　on　the　continent　will　deal　with　it　together。　When　she　has　finished
with　the　thunder　lizards；　I　will　speak　to　her　of　this　Flaming　Sword。　　He　turned　and　looked　right　at　Burx。　What　we　
will　not　do　is　go　back　on　our　word　to　the　humans　and　attack。　Is　that　clear？　　

Yes；　Warchief。　　

Ten　

S　trov　had　been　sitting　in　a　dark　corner　of　the　Demonsbane　Inn　and　Tavern　for　an　hour　when　his　brother　Manuel
walked　in　with　four　of　his　fellow　dockworkers。　

At　Colonel　Lorena　s　direction；　Strov　had　spoken　with　his　brother　about　the　Burning　Blade。　Manuel　said　he　hadn　t
seen　the　person　who　tried　to　recruit　him　since　that　first　time；　but　the　last　few　times　he　d　gone　to　the　Demonsbane；
he　d　overheard　a　weaselly　little　fisherman　named　Margoz　mutter　to　himself　about　the　Burning　Blade；　usually　after
consuming　several　corn　whiskeys。　Strov　had　been　hoping　for　the　original　recruiter　Manuel　had　told　him　of　weeks
earlier；　but　Manuel　insisted　that　the　man　hadn　t　appeared　at　the　Demonsbane　since。　

Manuel　had　never　been　any　good　at　describing　people；　the　best　he　could　do　regarding　Margoz　was　weaselly；　　and
that　word　described　half　the　Demonsbane　s　patronage。　But　Manuel　insisted　that　he　could　find　the　man　again　if　he　
saw　him；　and　said　he　would　e　to　the　Demonsbane　after　his　shift　on　the　docks　was　done。　

Strov　arrived　early；　taking　a　seat　in　the　corner；　wanting　to　blend　into　the　background　of　the　tavern　and　people
watch。　After　a　few　hours；　he　decided　that　he　had　no　desire　to　ever　patronize　this　establishment　again。　The　table　was
filthy；　and　the　stool　he　sat　on　was　uneven　and　rocked　on　the　unswept　floor。　He　got　his　first　drink　a　watery　ale　at
the　bar；　and　no　attempt　had　been　made　to　refill　it。　It　amazed　Strov　that　the　owner　could　stay　in　business。　

On　top　of　that；　Strov　found　the　demon　skull　behind　the　bar　to　be　incredibly　disturbing。　It　was　as　if　the　thing　were　
staring　right　at　him　the　entire　time。　Although；　thinking　on　it；　he　could　see　how　the　presence　of　that　skull　looming　
　
over　everyone　in　the　tavern　would　drive　people　to　drink　more；　so　he　supposed　that；　at　least；　was　a　sound　business
decision。　

Manuel　came　in　with　a　bunch　of　men　who；　like　him；　were　burly　and　loud　and　wearing　only　sleeveless　shirts　and
loose　cotton　pants。　Strov　s　brother　earned　his　daily　bread　loading　and　unloading　ships　docked　in　Theramore；　and
then　spent　most　of　it　either　at　dice　or　in　this　tavern。　It　was　work　that　challenged　only　the　body；　not　the　mind；　which
was　why　it　had　held　no　interest　for　Strov；　but　held　plenty　for　the　much　less　imaginative　Manuel。　Strov　s　older
brother　wasn　t　one　to　think　overmuch　on　things。　Even　the　soldier　s　training　Strov　had　received　when　he　enlisted
would　have　been　too　taxing　for　him。　He　preferred　the　simplicity　of　being　told　to　take　a　box　from　one　place　and　put
it　in　another　place。　Anything　more　than　that　like　the　intricacies　of　fighting　with　a　sword　gave　him　a　headache。　

As　the　dockworkers　made　their　way　inside　the　bar；　Manuel　said；　Find　a　table；　fellas；　I　ll　be　orderin　　the　drinks。　　

First　round　on　you？　　one　of　his　coworkers　asked　with　a　grin。　

You　wish　we　ll　divvy　up　later。　　Manuel　laughed　and　walked　up　to　the　bar。　Strov　noted　that　his　brother　didn　t
move　in　a　straight　line　to　the　bar；　but　instead　took　an　odd　angle　so　he　had　to　squeeze　in　between　two　other　people　in
order　to　stand　at　the　bar。　Evenin　；　Erik；　　he　said　to　the　barkeep。　

The　barkeep　just　nodded。　

Two　ales；　one　corn　whiskey；　one　wine；　and　a　boar　s　grog。　　

Strov　smiled。　Manuel　always　had　a　weakness　for　boar　s　grog；　which　was　of　course　the　most　expensive　item　in　the
tavern。　This　was　one　of　several　reasons　why　he　still　lived　with　their　parents　while　Strov　had　his　own　place。　

The　usual；　　Erik　said。　in　　up。　　

As　Erik　went　to　put　the　order　together；　Manuel　turned　to　look　at　the　man　seated　next　to　him。　He　d　arrived　after
Strov　did；　but　was　already　on　his　third　corn　whiskey。　Hey；　　Manuel　said；　you　re　Margoz；　right？　　

The　man　just　looked　up　and　stared　blankly　at　Manuel。　

You　re　with　them　Burning　Blade　folk；　right？　Had　a　fella　in　here　awhile　back；　was　lookin　　for　recruits。　You　re　with
em；　yeah？　　

Dunno　what　you　re　talking　about。　　Margoz　s　words　were　sufficiently　slurred　that　his　consonants　barely　qualified
as　such。　　　Scuse　me。　　

Margoz　then　got　off　his　stool；　stumbled　to　the　floor；　got　up　while　refusing　assistance　from　Manuel；　and　then　walked
very　slowly　and　unsteadily　toward　the　door。　

A　moment　later；　after　Manuel　gave　him　a　look　and　a　nod；　Strov　abandoned　his　longempty　mug　and　also　exited
onto　the　streets　of　Theramore。　

The　cobblestone　streets　that　formed　a　lattice　amid　the　buildings　of　Theramore　were　designed　to　provide　reinforced
ground　for　people；　mounts；　and　wheeled　conveyances　to　travel　without　risking　getting　mired　in　the　swampy　ground
the　city　had　been　built　on。　Most　people　walked　on　them　rather　than　the　muck　and　grass　on　either　side；　which　meant
the　thoroughfares　were　so　crowded　that　Strov　could　follow　Margoz　without　fear　of　being　noticed。　

After　Margoz　bumped　into　four　different　people；　two　of　whom　actively　tried　to　avoid　him；　Strov　realized　that　they　
could　have　been　alone　on　the　street　for　all　it　mattered。　Margoz　was　so　drunk　he　wouldn　t　have　noticed　a　dragon
following　him　down　the　street。　
　
Still；　Strov　refused　to　let　his　training　go　to　waste；　so　he　kept　a　good　distance　behind　and　rarely　looked　right　at　the
target；　though　he　kept　him　in　his　peripheral　vis