Of Blood and Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

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