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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