Warcraft: Official Movie Novelization

Nothing was as Durotan had expected. He had backed down in his earlier clash with Blackhand, but the longer this… this harvesting of the creatures he was told to call “humans” continued, the less he liked it. Today, at least, he did not feel sullied by his actions. Today, the humans had fought back—even taking Kurvorsh and others with them. It was unexpected, but at least Kurvorsh had died in battle, and Durotan would sing a lok’vadnod for him.

At least he would, if he lived long enough. The humans had rallied after the strange attack from the older human in the unpassable circle. Until he had agreed to join Gul’dan on this trek to this world of Azeroth, Durotan had never seen anything like it, and now, he had seen two similar spells. What had their shaman done? Or was he a warlock? Perhaps Drek’Thar could help him understand.

The Frostwolves had lost only a few warriors, but the humans were still in pursuit. Durotan had no desire to add any more of his clan to the ranks of the fallen until they understood what they were up against. He crouched low over the stolen riding beast, his huge hands on its head, directing its panicked flight.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye—something green. It was Garona, Gul’dan’s slave. She was still a prisoner, except now she was bound to the dead. The length of chain that started at her scrawny neck led to a pale corpse—one of the green-tinged orcs that had been so mysteriously killed. She was struggling, trying to break the chain, glancing back the way Durotan had come.

With no weapons, bound to a dead minder, and so much weaker than a true, full-blooded orc, she was pitifully easy prey for the humans. They would cut through her tiny body with a single stroke of one of their small swords. Durotan should just leave her; such a thing as she was not worth risking his people for.

But it had been Garona, the slave, who had tried to warn Durotan against Gul’dan the second time the warlock had visited the Frostwolves, and certainly since the clan had joined the Horde, Durotan had started to regret not heeding her words. And Draka had felt sympathy and kindness toward her, seeing in the half-orc a reflection of her own temporary Exile from the Frostwolves.

Durotan made his decision. He turned the animal’s head toward the female, lifted Sever, and brought the great war axe crashing down on the iron chain. It parted easily, and he reached out his hand to her, ready to swing her behind him and bear her to safety.

Garona stared at his extended hand. Her gaze flickered to his face, and for a moment she hesitated.

Then she ran, darting into the forest—back the way they both had come. She would rather die as an orc than live as a slave.

It was a choice that almost guaranteed her death, but Durotan understood it. And he found he could not blame her.

Fel. It was, Khadgar was almost certain, what he had seen flowing between the beasts and Medivh, but there was no sign of it in this corpse any more. No telltale green mist seeping out from its mouth when, mindful of the seemingly razor-sharp teeth, Khadgar had opened its lips to test for the taint.

He paused. Something wasn’t right here. He got to his feet, looking around. The remaining knights were tending to the wounded, preparing the human corpses for respectful transportation home and the beast corpses for a somewhat less respectful journey.

The young mage closed his eyes for a moment, tuning in to the natural world around him. The rustle of leaves in the wind, the hum of insects. Birdsong.

No birdsong. Just as there had been no birdsong when—

He whirled around, hand outstretched, fingers splayed. Magic crackled in his palm and he shoved, hard.

The intruder who had just leaped from above him was struck by the spell. The beast was pinned in the air, its back against the rough bark of a huge tree, snarling down at him and writhing impotently.

Khadgar’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the beast he had just captured.

“Over here!” he shouted, not taking his eyes from his prisoner. He heard the sound of hoof beats behind him and then Lothar was there. So was a huge beast, unconscious and strapped across a second horse.

“You got a prisoner,” Khadgar said.

“So did you,” Lothar replied. “You took it alone?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, Lothar looked impressed, but then the expression was gone. He eyed the captive. “Looks like the runt of the litter.”

Khadgar sighed.

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