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？
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
w