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and swung his club as fiercely as he could. He recalled how big they had seemed to him as a child. They were still big, but so was
he, now, and he wielded a legendary weapon with control and skill. He fractured the shin-bone of the ogre and it roared in agony.
Orgrim's wolf danced out of the way as the huge thing fell, making the earth tremble as it landed. It tried to get up, pushing its
bulk off the ground with its large, fat hands, but by then other Blackrocks had swarmed upon it. Faster even than Orgrim could
reckon, the ogre was dead and bleeding from over two dozen wounds.
Orgrim wheeled just in time to see one of the orcish warriors hurtling through the air. dead from a single blow from an ogre's
massive club. Growling. Orgrim gathered himself to charge the murdering creature when a cry of "Hold, hold!" brought him up
short.
It was testament to the power of Blackhand's personality that even now, even when most of the Blackrocks were caught in the grip
of bloodlust and killing an ancient enemy, they stayed their hands. The ogres didn't, at least not at once, and Orgrim found himself
riding away from the battle until the slow ogre brains understood what was going on. The thought galled him. It is for the good of
all of us, Orgrim, he told himself.
He glanced over to see the ogres the Blackrocks had befriended talking to their kind. Or, rather, bellowing at them and
occasionally smacking them. But at least the ogres had been distracted from following the retreating ores and appeared to be
listening. One of them, bigger and wearing something that looked like an official sash of some sort, actually seemed to have a
brain. Orgrim could not understand the vile things and used the pause to catch his breath and gulp some water.
"Can't wait till we can kill them again," Rend said. Orgrim glanced at his chieftain's eldest son.
"If we succeed, they'll be Fighting alongside us," Orgrim replied. "You won't be allowed to kill them."
Maim spat. "Heh. Right. Kill 'cm on the sly."
Orgrim grimaced. He himself would like nothing better, but.. . "Several are dead already trying to make this plan of your father's
work- He wouldn't like you undermining his efforts."
Rend sneered at him. "Who's going to tell him?"
"I will. If this works, and they listen to us if any of them turn up dead, yours are the first names I'll mention."
Rend glowered. Right now, he was so young that it looked like childish petulance, but inwardly. Orgrim was touched with
foreboding. He had never liked Blackhand. and liked his children, with the exception of little Grisclda. even less. He did not know
if it was their parentage or their forced growth that was responsible, but there was a darkness in them that Orgrim mistrusted. One
day, if they survived and began using their brains in addition to their powerful muscles. Rend and Maim would grow up to be
even more dangerous and deadly than their father.
"I told you he wouldn't listen. Rend." Maim said petulantly. "Old man's forgotten what it's like to have bloodlust running through
him. Let's go."
With a final sneer. Rend followed his brother. Orgrim sighed. He had bigger problems than two upstart youngsters right now. He
turned his attention back to the negotiations, although he doubted the ogres would have understood the word. The attacks
appeared to have stopped. Blackhand, who had fled the battlefield as he had told alt his clan to do, now directed his wolf back
down to where the ogres were gathered. Orgrim rode to his chieftain's side, arriving just in time to hear
the leader of the guard announce. "We no like gronn. Gronn hurt us."
He beckoned to one of the other ogres who turned to show his back to Orgrim and Blackhand. Orgrim saw that there were scars
crisscrossing the ogre's back. He felt no twinge of pity for the creature; they had done worse to the orcs for decades. Still, it was
useful to know. The captured ogres had also spoken of such things, and now they nodded as if they were terribly wise.
"What you give us if we join you?" demanded the guard.
Blackhand grinned up at the thing. "Well, for one thing, we won't beat you." Orgrim thought of Blackhand's own sons, but said
nothing. "We'll see to it that you're fed and given appropriate weapons." Orgrim was relieved that Blackhand hadn't promised
armor; three ores could be armored out of the materials that would protect a single ogre. And, fortunately, the guard obviously
one of the more intelligent of the ogres still wasn't smart enough to think of armor himself.
"You'll have food, and shelter, and the delight of smashing draenei to small wet stains on the grass."
The other ogres had been listening intently, and now one of them literally jumped up and down with delight, "Me smash!" it
roared gleefully, and several others took up the simple but apparently highly entertaining phrase. Blackhand waited for their
enthusiasm to die down before continuing. "So, are We agreed?"
The ogre captain nodded. "No more hurting of ogres," he growled, and turned to regard those he led. His tiny eyes were shiny with
tears, and this time, as he looked upon the ogres whose backs were crawling with scars, Orgrim did feel a little sorry for them. A
very little.
"What is your name?" Orgrim asked the captain suddenly. It shifted its gaze to him,
"Krol," he said.
"Krol, then," said Blackhand quickly before his second could say more. "When do you think We should lead our combined
assault?"
"Now," Krol said, and before cither Orgrim or Blackhand could protest, he bellowed something in his hideous native tongue. The
other ogres jumped up and down, and the earth shook as they landed. Then they all turned and purposefully reentered the cave
mouth. Blackhand cast a glance over at Orgrim, who shrugged. He suspected it was easier to stop the tide than this flood of stupid,
single-minded giants.
"Call them," Blackhand said. Orgrim produced a clefthoof's single horn and blew on it. The ores cried out in delight and began to
again descend in response.
There was no time to remind the Blackrock clan of the plan. Orgrim hoped they would remember it, especially the ovcrzcalous
Maim and Rend. Slaughter of ogres aplenty awaited them, but they had damned well better be killing the rig/it ogres.
Because if they didn't, if they gave the ogres any reason to question this sudden and very peculiar alliance, then the babes and old
males and females who awaited word at the encampment might be all that remained of the Blackrock clan.
Orgrim was not optimistic. The Blackrock clan had ever been fierce in the hunt. Blackhand was little more than a cunning savage, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]