Ambassadors - A novel based on Warcraft

Chapter 13 - Cursed Blood

Dunris' head was spinning, and his muscles were burning with pain. He tried to see why they hurted so much, but his eyelids didn't respond. How come he was so tired? After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to open his eyes and sit on the hard, wet floor. He looked around and his heart shrinked: he was surrounded by injured and agonizing orcs, some of them crying, others with their eyes empty. Had he gone back in time? Was he at Lordamere once more?

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. He wanted to move, he wanted to ask the others what was going on, but he was paralyzed. The dark cell seemed like a cave with no entrance, and the air was stale with anguish and sorrow. Was everything a dream? Was he still a youngling, trapped within the humans' grip, with no hope for his life? But his life had been so real, his training, his fighting, his efforts. A couple of prisoners coughed up blood, and he felt like using his shamanistic powers to heal them... but did he truly harness the power of the elements?

A furious roar at his back returned him to the present. No, he wasn't at Lordamere, for no orcish roar was ever heard within those internment camps. Dunris managed to stand up and look for the source of the screaming, and soon he realized he was among his Whiteclaw allies, who looked more angry and concerned than sad or weak. And then, he found Korghan and Degarok smashing what appeared to be the bars of their cage.

"I will stomp on your chest and eat your damned hearts!", Boulderwrath yelled. "Let us out, you pathetic weaklings!"

"Give them back! Give them back!", the Death Knight was desperate, thrusting the bars with his shoulders and trying to force them open with his mighty arms... but the cage wouldn't yield. Outside, there was nothing but dark tunnels, lighted up with a series of torches.

Dunris approached his brother and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. Korghan turned back quickly and grabbed the Shaman by his arms.

"Brother! Are you alright?", he asked with an unusual fear in his voice. "They took you away! And after some minutes they brought you and took Naurosh! What did they do to you?!"

"I... I don't know...", then Dunris noticed that his arms hurt slightly more when Hollowheart grasped them; he gave a quick look and realized that he had some bandages surrounding his elbows. Slowly, he removed the wraps and a small but bruised cut was revealed. "It would seem they wanted my blood..."

"But why?", then he thrusted the jail bars again. "I don't know what these are made of... I tried using my powers on them, but it's impossible. They took you, now they took Naurosh and... I don't know where Velaah is...", he added with pain. "I don't know where she is... Give her back!", he thrusted once more.

"Let me see...", Dunris asked, grasping the cold metal and closing his eyes; he felt weak and exhausted, but his willpower was greater than physical fatigue. He tried to commune with fire, channeling the element through his body and his hands.

"It's working!", Degarok exclaimed, clearly excited. "It's working!"

"No, it isn't" a voice echoed through the halls, and the Shaman could feel how the metal became colder and colder.

But he wouldn't let anyone beat him. Pride took over his heart, and he didn't care who was countering his power. He grabbed one bar with both hands and with a furious roar, he melted it right away and broke it. Immediately after, a lash of arcane energies hit him in the chest, forcing him to the ground.

"Impressive. Quite impressive", a human said, appearing into scene in front of the cage. Deggarok tried to grab him, but his hand got instantly burned. "Ah, yes, there's always an imbecile brute."

"Get rid of your pathetic magic and let's see who's the imbecile", Boulderwrath taunted, holding his hand and trying not to show pain.

"My magic is my strength, orc; you wouldn't get rid of your strength, would you?", the man asked with disdain. "But, shut up, brute. I'm more interested in your companion."