THREE
A Warrior’s Tale
Tirion woke early the next morning. Slipping out of bed so as not to wake Karandra, he dressed and
made his way down to his personal ready room. There, displayed upon an ornate stand near the
darkened room’s center, was his armor. The heavy silver plates with their gold lining shone brightly in the
early morning light, despite the numerous gouges and dents that covered them.Scars of battle, he thought
warily. Any one of the deep gouges could have signified a fatal wound, had he been a less cautious man
over the years. He hoped silently that his luck would hold out with whatever troubles were coming.
As quietly as he could, he slipped the armor plates on one at a time and buckled them into place. Once
finished, he stood in front of a full-length mirror and looked himself over. He looked much the same as he
always had, despite a few more gray hairs framing his tired face. He marveled at how well the heavy suit
still fit after all these years. He had to admit to feeling a certain indestructibility every time he wore the
armor. Yet that was a young man’s notion. No one was invincible.No one lived forever, he thought
grimly.
Walking over to the stone fireplace set into the far wall, Tirion reached out for his trusty warhammer,
which rested on the oak mantel above. The expertly weighted hammer felt good in his hands. The holy
runes etched in its head shone as brightly as they ever had.
“With any luck, I won’t need your strength today, old friend,” he muttered. He tucked the hammer under
his arm and strode down toward the keep’s stables.
* * *
The sun was just breaking over the distant Alterac peaks as Tirion finished saddling Mirador. He slung
the hammer into its saddle-hoop and made ready to mount the seasoned warhorse. He put his foot in the
stirrup and grunted in pain. His ribs still ached, and the heavy armor made it difficult for him to pull his
own weight up.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” a suspicious voice asked from the stable’s dark entryway. Tirion took
his foot from the stirrup and turned to face Arden. The captain of the guard’s face was stern and etched
with concern.
“I am going to investigate the tower’s ruins. If the orcs are planning an invasion of my land, then I’ll find
proof of it myself,” Tirion said flatly.
Arden nodded. “Great. Then I’ll saddle up and go with you.”
“I do not wish to have company. This is something I must do alone, Arden,” Tirion said. There was iron
in his voice, and the captain’s concern grew more apparent.
“I don’t like this, Tirion. What exactly are you trying to prove? Heading off unescorted so soon after
your—”
Tirion cut him off. “My what, Arden? My defeat?” Tirion asked heatedly. Arden lowered his gaze and
shifted uncomfortably. Tirion mounted the horse, exhaled deeply, and curtly said, “I’ll be back in a few
hours. Try to keep an eye on Barthilas while I’m gone. I have a feeling he’ll try to stir up trouble.” He dug
his spurs into Mirador’s sides and sped out toward the distant tree line.
With growing unease, Arden watched his lord gallop away into the distance. Somehow he knew that
Tirion wasn’t telling him everything.
* * *
Finding his way back to the ruined tower wasn’t as easy a task as Tirion had thought it would be. It took
him hours to wind his way back up the mountain trail. The morning fog still clung to the ground along the
winding path, but he could still make out the tower’s broken frame through the trees. As he neared it, he
slowed to an easy canter, attuned to any sounds of danger.This is not a wise move, he
thought—approaching his enemy’s encampment without so much as a squire to aid him. His horse’s
heavy barding and his own flashing armor were enough to announce his presence to anyone for miles
around.Need to be more cautious, he thought. After all, there was still a good chance that the orc had
not been alone when he encountered it. Yet something in his gut told him that this was not the case.
Something deep inside told him that he had nothing to fear. Throwing caution to the wind, Tirion rode
boldly up to the tower’s base and dismounted. Looking up, he could see where the once mighty walls
had collapsed inward. The structural damage to the tower was extensive, and he wondered fleetingly
how he could have survived the disaster at all. He looked about the place for any sign of the orc. He saw
none. The tower looked deserted.
A low, guttural grunt caught his attention and he turned to see the orc sitting on a large rock near the tree
line. The creature seemed calm and poised, but its great battle-ax leaned nearby within easy reach.So the
creature, too, was cautious, Tirion thought to himself. The proud Paladin removed his helmet and set it
on the pommel of Mirador’s saddle. The great horse snorted loudly, sensing its master’s tension. From
the corner of his eye, Tirion caught sight of the warhammer strapped to the saddle and reached for its
handle. Immediately, the orc grabbed for his ax. Tirion quickly pulled his hand away and took a step
back from the horse. The orc grunted softly and relaxed. It grinned at him knowingly. Tirion took a deep
breath and then walked slowly toward the orc.
As he walked forward, he realized that he could have been sorely mistaken about the old orc. Perhaps
the creature did intend to kill him after all. Maybe someone else had miraculously saved him from the
tower’s wreckage. Maybe. But he had to know for sure, one way or another. Stopping only a few paces
from where the orc sat, Tirion raised his fist to his heart in salute.That had been the orc’s salute, right?
In return, the orc raised a stiff hand to his own grizzled brow.
“That is how you humans do it, is it not?” the orc asked in fluid speech. Its voice was deep and gritty,
but its articulation was exceptional. Tirion was dumbfounded, his shock evident on his face. The orc’s
hideous features contorted in what Tirion surmised was a grin.
“You . . . you speak our language?” Tirion asked shakily.
The old orc eyed him sternly. “Do you think my people survived in your world this long using brute
strength alone?” it asked. “Your kind has always underestimated mine. That is why you lost the first war,
I think.”
Tirion could only marvel at the creature. Here sat a thing of darkness—a vile, murdering beast. And yet,
it spoke with fluidity and wit. This creature did not rush to tear out his heart, as he would have expected.
It merely sat, reading him with its clever, knowing eyes. Tirion shuddered, feeling fascinated and repulsed
at the same time. Without thinking, he blurted out the question he had been asking himself ceaselessly: “I
must know. Did you pull me from the tower and lead my horse back to the road?”
The old orc held him in his gaze for a long while and then nodded once. “I did,” it said.
Tirion exhaled sharply. “Why would you do that?” he asked. “We are sworn enemies.”
The orc seemed to consider the point for a moment. “You have great honor, for a human. That much
was clear from our fight. No honorable warrior deserves to die like a trapped animal. It would not have
been right to simply leave you there,” the orc finished. Tirion didn’t know exactly what he had expected
to hear, but he was clearly unprepared for that answer. “Besides,” the orc continued, “I have seen
enough death in my time.”
Tirion bowed his head, struggling to make sense of the orc’s words.This can’t be right, he thought.
This creature is a merciless savage. How could it speak so? Yet Tirion knew that the orc’s words rang
true. He could feel the orc’s sincerity—and beneath it, deeply buried pain and sorrow. As a Paladin, he
had developed a certain empathic ability to sense deep emotions from others. The curious ability had
never proven to be more useful. He pulled himself together and simply went with the moment.
“I should thank you, then,” Tirion began, wondering how to properly address the creature.
Sensing Tirion’s confusion, the orc spoke. “I am Eitrigg, human. You may call me Eitrigg.” Relieved,
Tirion replied, “Thank you, Eitrigg. Thank you for saving my life.”
The orc nodded again and stood up. Tirion noticed that the orc walked with a distinct limp. He surmised
that the cut he had given the creature during their battle was likely infected. Without giving Tirion a
second glance, the orc limped over toward the ruined tower.
“I am Tirion Fordring,” the Paladin began. “I should tell you that I am the lord of this land, Eitrigg, and
that your presence here upsets many of those whom I entrust with its protection.”
The orc laughed softly. “I wager they slept well enough before you found me,” the orc said. “I have lived
here in these woods for many long years, human. I move from place to place, keeping hidden, finding
shelter where I can. I have made great sport of evading your scouts and yourRangers. ”
The latter was spoken with distinct scorn. Orcs were not known for their fondness of elven Rangers.
The cunning, forest-running Rangers had sworn to gain vengeance against the Horde after the orcs had
destroyed the elves’ enchanted homeland of Quel’Thalas. Tirion wondered if Eitrigg was telling the truth.
Could this orc have remained undetected for so long?
Eitrigg snorted and said, “It was bad luck that led you to me.”
“Perhaps,” Tirion began, “but your being here creates a serious problem for me. My people hate your
kind, Eitrigg. Your race brought nothing but misery and chaos to these lands. They would kill you in a
heartbeat if they could. How, then, can I be merciful? How can I let you stay, knowing what your people
have done?”
“I have abandoned them, human! I live here in solitude—in exile,” Eitrigg said warily. “I no longer wish
to pay for their sins.”
“I don’t understand,” the Paladin replied. “Are you saying that you’ve disavowed your own people?”
My people are lost!” the orc spat. “Truth be told, they were lost long before they ever came to this
strange world. When the Horde finally fell before your standards, I decided to take my leave of it
forever.”
Eitrigg reached down and rolled a large chunk of mortar onto its side. Tirion was impressed with the
orc’s strength. It would have taken at least two stout men to move the stone. The orc motioned for Tirion
to sit and then sat himself down cross-legged on the ground. Tirion took a seat on the leveled mortar.
“There is much you do not know about my people. Their honor and their pride left them long ago. I
decided my duty to them was finished when my sons were killed,” Eitrigg said grimly.
“Were your sons warriors?” Tirion asked. Eitrigg scoffed loudly.
“All orcs are warriors, human,” he said, as if Tirion were a brainless child. “We know little else. Despite
my sons’ strength and prowess, they were betrayed by their own leaders. During the last war our clan
Chieftains fought amongst themselves over petty rivalries. As one particularly bloody battle concluded,
my sons were ordered to pull back from the front lines. One of our Chieftain’s rivals, hoping to advance
his clan’s standing within the Horde, countermanded the order and sent my sons and their brethren back
to be slaughtered. It was a dark day for our clan. . . .” Eitrigg said, lost in thought. “A dark day for me,”
he finished.
Tirion’s mind reeled. He was well aware of the fact that orcs frequently fought amongst themselves. Yet
Eitrigg’s apparent grief moved him. He never imagined that such treachery could affect an orc so.
“I realized then that there was no hope. Corruption and enmity had completely overshadowed my
people’s spirit. I felt that it was only a matter of time before the Horde devoured itself from within,”
Eitrigg said.
“Where did the corruption come from, Eitrigg? What drove your people to such depravity?” Tirion
asked.
Eitrigg’s brow raised and he appeared to be deep in thought. “In my grandfather’s time, my people were
simple and proud. There were a few dozen clans then. They lived and hunted within the wilds of our
world. They were all hunters back then—mighty warriors who lived by an honorable code and
worshiped the spirits of the elements themselves. Thunder and lightning coursed through the blood of my
ancestors!” Eitrigg said proudly, lost in the haze of reverie. “Wise Shamans guided them and kept the
peace between the clans.”
Tirion leaned in, hanging on the old orc’s words. Surely, no human ears had ever heard this much of the
orcs’ history before. “And then?” Tirion asked anxiously. He wondered if this was how Taelan felt, as he
read the boy stories before his bedtime. Eitrigg continued somberly.
“A new order rose up amongst the clans, promising to unite them and forge them into a powerful nation.
Many of the Shamans discarded their ancient traditions and began to practice dark magics. They began
to call themselves Warlocks. For some malign purpose, they used their shadowy powers to corrupt the
clans and drive them to heinous acts of violence. They did succeed in uniting my people, after a fashion,”
Eitrigg stated wryly. “Under the Warlocks’ rule, the clanswere united—as a rampaging Horde. Our
noble warrior traditions were perverted to serve their dark, secretive ends. It was the Warlocks who
brought my people to your world, human. It was they who drove us to make war against you.”
Tirion shook his head in bewilderment. “And no one spoke out against them? Out of an entire race of
warriors, no one was willing to fight them?” Tirion asked heatedly.
“There were a few who would not submit. One of the dissident clans, led by an orc named Durotan,
challenged the Warlocks openly and tried to convince the other clans of their folly. I remember the mighty
Durotan well. He was a great hero. Unfortunately, few orcs heeded Durotan’s warnings. The Warlocks’
hold over their hearts blinded them to reason. For his courage, Durotan was exiled, along with his clan. I
heard that the Warlocks’ assassins finally killed him, years later. Such is the way of the Horde,” Eitrigg
finished. “Madness,” Tirion said. “If your people truly valued honor, as you’ve said, then I can’t believe
that they’d let themselves be controlled so easily.”
Eitrigg scowled and sat silently for a moment. He looked up with stern eyes and replied, “It was a
terrible momentum that gripped us in those days, human. After Durotan was taken away, fear and
paranoia overtook my people. None would stand against the Warlocks.”
Tirion scoffed derisively.
Bristling with anger, Eitrigg erupted. “Have you ever stood against the will of an entire nation, human?
Have you ever questioned an order, knowing that to disobey meant immediate death?”
Tirion looked away.No. He could scarcely imagine what that must have been like.
Eitrigg nodded, feeling his point had been made. “It was rumored that the Warlocks consorted with
demons and drew on their infernal powers. Personally, I believe it to be true. The darkness that took
hold of my people could not have been born in our hearts.”
Tirion tensed. He remembered hearing that the orcs had set demons loose to sow terror throughout the
human ranks. The very thought appalled him. “It seems your people have suffered greatly, Eitrigg, even
before they roused the wrath of mine,” Tirion said with a note of pride in his voice. Eitrigg gave him a
sidelong glance. “However, your story is a remarkable one. I fear I may have misjudged you and your
people along many lines.”
Eitrigg grunted as if amused and stood up to stretch his back. “Actually,” Tirion continued, “we are much
alike, you and I. We are both old soldiers who have sacrificed much for our—”
Eitrigg cut him off with a wave of his sinewy hand. “We arenothing alike, human,” he growled. “I am a
renegade living as an exile in a hostile land! You are a wealthy lord, loved by a free people, able to live
life as you wish. We are nothing alike!” Embarrassed by his outburst, the old orc scowled and looked
away into the distance.
Tirion considered the orc’s harsh words for a moment. “You are right, of course. Our people are at war.
Thus, I must ask you, Eitrigg, on your honor—are there any other orcs in my land? Does the Horde plan
to attack this region?”
Eitrigg sighed heavily and sat back down. He shook his head in dismay and looked Tirion in the eye. “As
I have told you, human, I live here alone. I have no interest in dealing with others of my kind. I haven’t
even seen another orc in years. I cannot tell you what the Horde plans now. I can only assure you that
this broken old warrior has no plans to assault your keep or make any trouble for you whatsoever. I just
want to be left alone to live out my remaining years in solitude. After a lifetime of fruitless war, peace is
the only comfort I have left.”
Tirion nodded. “As a warrior of honor, I accept your words, Eitrigg. And, in return for having saved my
life, I will allow you your solitude. So long as you remain hidden and leave my people unmolested, you
may stay here for as long as you wish.”
Eitrigg smirked slightly in disbelief. “I think perhaps your brethren will hunt me down despite you, human.
To them, I am the sum of their fears,” the old orc said.
“Yet I am their lord, Eitrigg. They shall do as I say. I give you my solemn oath as a Light-sworn Paladin
that your secret will be safe. None shall hunt you while I have power to prevent it,” Tirion vowed. For a
brief moment, Tirion regretted making such a bold statement. He knew it would be extremely difficult to
fulfill his charge if matters became complicated. If his comrades ever found out that he had made such a
pact, they would certainly brand him as a traitor. However, his instincts told him that this was the right
decision. He stood, resolved.
Eitrigg grunted in satisfaction. “On your honor, then,” he said, rising to his feet once more. Tirion noticed
the orc’s limp again. Eitrigg was obviously in great pain.
“On my honor,” Tirion replied, gazing at the orc’s wounded leg. “You know, Eitrigg, I can heal your
wound. It is a power I have,” he said.
The orc chuckled in amusement. “Thank you, but it’s not necessary,” Eitrigg stated. “Pain is a great
teacher. Apparently, even after all my battles, I still have much to learn.”
Tirion laughed out loud. He was truly beginning to like the old orc who, not an hour before, he
considered to be the most heinous villain. “Perhaps someday I can return and converse with you further. I
must admit you are not at all what I expected to find,” the Paladin chided.
Eitrigg’s massive, yellowed tusks seemed to stretch as he smiled. “Nor are you what I expected,
human.”
Tirion gave the orc’s salute again and mounted Mirador with a grunt. He dug his spurs into the stallion’s
flank and rode off beyond the orc’s sight.
* * *
A thousand different thoughts flooded Tirion’s mind as he rode home along the winding path. He
wondered if he had made a mistake by offering the orc sanctuary in his lands. Nevertheless, he had given
his word that he would keep the orc’s secret safe. Whatever else happened, he was honor-bound to
protect the old orc from persecution, and that was that.
It was nearly dusk as he rode back into the keep’s stables. Tiredly, Tirion handed his reins to the stable
boy and headed inside. All he wanted was to sleep and clear the day’s business from his mind. As he
reached for the door handle that led into the kitchens, a strong hand caught his arm. Tirion looked up to
find Barthilas blocking his way. There was a light in the youth’s eyes that made Tirion very uneasy.
“Milord,” Barthilas began icily, “we must talk immediately.”
Tirion sighed in frustration. “I’m very tired, Barthilas. We can talk in the morning if you wish.”
Barthilas’ grip only tightened. “I don’t think you understand, milord. You see, I know where you were
today,” the young Paladin stated. His eyes never blinked, but held Tirion in their frosty depths. Tirion
wondered if Arden had betrayed him and told of his errand. No. Arden had always been loyal.
“I know that you know there are orcs in Hearthglen, Tirion. I can see it in your eyes. I pray, for your
sake, that you’re not covering up any pertinent information.”
Tirion bristled. He could handle the youth’s arrogance, but he would not be threatened in his own home
by an overly zealous boy.
“I told you before, Barthilas. You will address me with the proper respect,” Tirion stated furiously. “As
for your concerns, I have determined that my encounter was an isolated incident. That’s all you need to
know for the time being. I suggest that you forget about this business and let the matter drop. Now take
your hand away and let me pass before I lose my temper.”
Slowly, Barthilas released his grip and took a step back. His piercing eyes never left Tirion’s. The elder
Paladin turned brusquely and entered the keep.
Left standing alone, Barthilas scowled in frustration.
“This is not over, milord,” the young Paladin hissed to himself, clenching his fists. “This is not over by
far.”
* * *
Tirion made his way to his private chambers. He ceremoniously removed his armor and placed his
warhammer back upon the mantel. He entered his bedroom and crashed down heavily on the bed. All he
wanted in the world was just a few hours of sleep. Just as his head hit the plush pillow, Karandra walked
into the room. She was surprised to find him there.
“Oh, you’re home,” she said sweetly. “Where did you go running off to this morning, Tirion? I asked
Arden, but he wouldn’t tell me anything.” Her voice was full of concern.
Tirion tensed. He didn’t want to discuss the matter about the orc at all. He had given his word to keep
Eitrigg’s secret safe, and the last thing he wanted was to be forced to lie to his wife about his activities.
But, looking into her eyes, Tirion could tell she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than the whole
story.
“I went out to inspect the site where I fought the orc, Karandra. I needed to find out if there were more
orcs in my lands,” he said, a tad too irritably. “I wanted to go alone, so I told Arden not to speak about it
with anyone.”
Karandra frowned and folded her arms under her breasts. She did that every time she was upset with
him.
“You went off alone only days after your attack? How can you be so reckless, Tirion? What were you
trying to prove? It’s not like you’re a young man anymore!” she said heatedly.
Tirion flinched. First Barthilas and now his wife. “I’ve been soldiering for more years than you’ve been
alive, girl! The last thing I need from you is a lecture on how to perform my duties properly!” he growled.
Tirion rarely spoke to her like that, and Karandra never really knew how to respond when he did. She
decided that a tactical change of subject was needed in order to salvage the conversation.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound as innocent as
possible.
Tirion forced himself to calm down, but knew that this new line of questioning wouldn’t fare well for her
either. “Yes, I did,” he said in an even tone. “I am convinced that my encounter was an isolated event,
and that we have nothing to fear from the orcs.”
Karandra brightened and sat down beside him on the bed. She took his hand in hers. “I’m so relieved.
That’s wonderful, Tirion, but how can you be so sure?” she asked.
Tirion’s heart sank. He would not lie to her. “I can’t tell you, my love,” he said softly.
“Why not? If there is nothing to fear, as you say, then there shouldn’t be any problem with telling me,
should there?” she asked. Something in her voice sounded hurt.
“It is a matter of honor, Karandra. I cannot tell you,” he repeated.
With a start, Karandra ripped her hand away and stood up from the bed. Tirion half expected lightning
bolts to burst forth from her eyes.
“Honor. It always comes down to that with you, Tirion! You’re just as exasperating as that vainglorious
Barthilas! Is your precious honor really more important to you than your own wife?” She cupped her face
with her hands and seemed to be on the verge of tears. Tirion looked up at her and answered as gently
as he could.
“You wouldn’t understand, my love. I am a Paladin. There is a great deal expected of me. . . .” he said,
his voice trailing off. There was an uncharacteristic note of self-pity in his tone.
Karandra took her hands from her face and had to restrain herself from hitting him.
“You’re right, I don’t understand! But I know exactly what’s expected of you,” she yelled as tears
started flowing down her reddening cheeks. “You’re expected to act like my husband and not try to
shelter me from your silly little secrets like I’m still a girl in pigtails! You’re expected to act like a
responsible lord and not go gallivanting off alone and putting yourself in danger!” Tirion looked away as
she began to sob. “You’re supposed to be careful and stay alive so that our son doesn’t grow up without
a father,” she finished.
Tirion stood up and took her in his arms. “I know, dearest. I did take an unnecessary risk. But you’ve
got to trust me on this, Karandra. Everything will be all right,” he told her soothingly.
She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at her husband’s face. She would try to trust his
judgment. She was about to tell him as much when a quiet shuffling of feet announced that Taelan had
entered the room. Tirion and Karandra looked toward the door to see their bleary-eyed son standing
before them. Apparently, their arguing had woken the boy up.
“Are you two fighting?” the boy asked timidly, his big blue eyes glistening with concern.
Tirion walked over and scooped the boy up in his arms. “No, son, your mother’s just worried about the
orcs, is all,” he said soothingly.
Taelan seemed to think for a moment. “Poppa, are the orcs as mean and cruel as everyone says they
are?” the boy asked.
Tirion wasn’t prepared for such a direct question. He thought about his revealing conversation with
Eitrigg, and marveled that he wasn’t so sure anymore. He certainly didn’t want to lie to his son.There
had to be some hope for future generations.
“Well, son, that’s hard to answer,” he said slowly. Focused on Taelan as he was, Tirion didn’t see
Karandra’s incredulous stare. The boy listened intently as his father continued. “I think there are some
orcs who can be good. They’re just harder to find, is all,” Tirion said gently.
Karandra couldn’t believe her ears. Her ebbing anger flooded back into her.
“Really, Poppa?” Taelan asked.
“I think so,” Tirion replied. “Sometimes we need to be careful of how quickly we judge people, son.”
The boy seemed pleased with the answer. Karandra was not. Despite everything else, she would be
damned if she let Tirion fill the boy’s head with such nonsense.
“Don’t tell him that!” she hissed. “Orcs are mindless beasts who should all be hunted down and killed!
How can you even say that, knowing what they’ve done to our world! What’s gotten into you, Tirion?”
she yelled, snatching Taelan from his arms. Sensing her anger, the boy began to cry. She stroked his hair
lovingly as she turned to leave. “Don’t worry, baby,” she said, “your father’s just tired. We’ll let him get
some rest, all right?” she said as she left the room briskly without even turning to acknowledge Tirion.
Left alone, Tirion wandered over to an ornate serving stand and poured himself a cup of chilled wine.
Taking a deep sip, he sat down heavily and marveled at how quickly his entire world had turned upside
down.
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