The book "Birth of the Horde" is the first full-length novel that tells the history of the world of World of Warcraft. The events of this book take place in the distant past, when the orcs were still peaceful shamans and hunters, when Draenor flourished in the rays of the sun, and nothing threatened the inhabitants of this world. All this continued until the Burning Legion came. Kil'jaeden, driven by revenge against his brother Velen, enslaves the orcs and with their help exterminates the draenei, who hid in Draenor from the hands of the Burning Legion. Next, the orcs, now thirsty for new blood, open a portal to the new world of Azeroth and set off through it to exterminate the human race. Thus begins the great confrontation between Orcs and Men. Will people be able to stop the demonic Horde? Will the draenei be able to survive their destruction? Read about these and other events in Christy Golden’s book “The Birth of the Horde,” which you can download from the links below.

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Real books for true connoisseurs of the Warcraft universe, which are so pleasant to hold in your hands!

Christy Golden

Birth of the Horde

I dedicate this book to Chris Metzen (his support and enthusiasm was very useful to me in working on this project), as well as the fantastic creatures from the World of WarCraft® RP server - all those with whom I had the honor of playing. Among them are Aron and Erica Jolly-Meers, Lacey Coleman and Sean Rich, to whom I am especially grateful, because he was the one who got me into role-playing.

Council of Shadows, forward to victory

The stranger's power radiated with light, a dazzling play of colors and shades. The light covered him like a cloak, shining like a crown around his mighty head. The stranger's voice was accepted by both the ears and the mind, and sweet joy flowed through his veins - as if from a favorite song, forgotten, but suddenly remembered.

The gift offered by the stranger was great.

Hearts were drawn to him, but still... A shadow of doubt rose over him.

When the stranger disappeared, the Eredar leaders spoke to each other - secret words of minds.

For so much, he wants so little,” the first noted, flexing his muscles, “and the echo of his power ran through both worlds, the corruptible and the spiritual.

Such power,” the second one muttered thoughtfully, beautiful, graceful, full of grace and beauty, “And he told us the truth, for no one is able to lie when telling it like that.”

What he predicted will happen!

The third was silent. All three knew: the vision shown by the stranger could not be faked, it was true. Yet the third leader, Velen, although he believed the vision, was alarmed - there was something frightening in the stranger who called himself Sargeras. The Eredar leaders were friends. Velen was especially friendly with Kil'jaeden, the strongest and most decisive of the three. They were friends for countless years, passing unnoticed by creatures over whom time has no power. In Velen's eyes, the opinion of Kil'jaeden weighed more than the opinion of Archimonde - although he He thought sensibly, but was vain and susceptible to flattery, and therefore did not always judge impartially. And Kil'jaeden was in favor of agreeing with the stranger.

Velen began to ponder the vision again: new worlds waiting to be explored and, more importantly, explored, comprehended. Eredars are very inquisitive. Knowledge is as necessary for them as bread and water are for lower creatures. And Sargeras promised something amazing, attractive, bewitching - if only the Eredar would agree to a little: swear allegiance to Sargeras.

And they promise the loyalty of their peoples.

As usual, our Velen is circumspect and careful,” Archimonde noted.

Words clothed in the form of praise, but now they seemed almost mockery to Velen.

He knew what Archimonde wanted, he knew that his friend’s indecision seemed to him an annoying obstacle on the way to what he wanted. Velen smiled.

Yes, I am the most cautious of you, and my caution has saved us as often as your determination, Kil'jaeden, and your resourcefulness, Archimonde.

They both laughed, and for a moment Velen felt the same friendly warmth. And after laughing, I felt: they had already decided. They parted in silence.

Velen looked after his friends leaving, and his heart became heavier. Did they do the right thing? How will he decide?

They had known each other for a long time - so different, but complementing and balancing each other for the benefit of peace and tranquility of their people. Velen knew that leaders put the well-being of those who trusted them above all else, and the three always managed to come to an agreement.

Now they have already decided to accept the gift - but why is it so alarming from the confidence and charm of Sargeras? The guest assured: it was the Eredars that he was looking for - a strong, proud, passionate, intelligent people. Oh, how the Eredar will be able to strengthen their power, serving a noble goal - the unity of all worlds. Sargeras will change the Eredar, give them gifts that the universe has never known, for never before has a power like Sargeras been combined with the uniqueness of the Eredar. Sargeras showed the truth...

And yet - why doubt?

Velen went to the temple, where he often looked in times of anxiety. That night there were other eredars in the temple: they sat around a stone pedestal with the precious crystal of Ata "mal. The crystal was so ancient that no one remembered its origin - just as the eredars did not remember theirs. The legend said: the crystal was given to the eredars in deep antiquity. It made it possible to strengthen the abilities of the mind, study and understand the secrets of the universe, was used for healing, calling on entities, and sometimes allowed one to look into the future. That night Velen wanted to look into the future. He reverently approached and touched the crystal. Warm - as if an animal was curled up in the palm of his hand "The warm touch calms. Velen took a deep breath - the familiar power nourished the soul - then returned to the circle of contemplators.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, opening his mind and body to perception, the sense of the magician. And at first I saw confirmation of the prophecy of Sargeras: I saw myself standing on a par with Kil'jaeden and Archimonde, rulers not only of their noble and proud people, but also of countless worlds. The three were enveloped in power, enticing, intoxicating, like the strongest wines. Shining cities lay before them feet, and the townspeople prostrated themselves before the rulers, greeted them with cries of joy and adoration, showing loyalty.

New knowledge and skills, unprecedented devices awaited the knowing gaze. Volumes in as yet unknown languages ​​awaited translation, promising to reveal strange, unimaginable magic. Great, glorious thing! Velen's head swam with delight.

He looked at Kil'jaeden - his old friend was smiling. Archimonde touched his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Then Velen looked at himself - and screamed in horror. The body became huge, but monstrously distorted. The smooth blue skin turned black, showed brown spots, and swelled with rough growths - like the bark of a noble tree affected by disease. Light came from Velen - but not the pure, clear light of untainted power, but poisonous green, sick, alarming. Stunned, he turned to his friends - they too had lost their former appearances.

They became man'ari!

This word in the Eredar language meant something monstrously distorted, incorrect, desecrated. The realization hit my soul like a flaming sword. Velen screamed, trembling, tore his eyes from his distorted body, looked around, looking for the peace and prosperity Sargeras had promised, but saw only evil. Where a moment before there had been a jubilant crowd, mutilated corpses lay, and creatures walked on them, who, like Kil'jaeden and Archimonde, had turned into monsters. Unseen monsters were jumping over the bodies in blood: dogs with tentacles on their backs, tiny, laughing creatures, dancing among the carrion, deceptively beautiful, graceful creatures with outstretched wings behind their backs, looking at the carnage with pleasure and pride. Where the cloven hooves of these creatures stepped, the earth died. Not only the grass, but also the soil rotted, everything that gave life dried up, died.

So this is what Sargeras wanted to do to the Eredars, this is the “strengthening” he was talking about, beaming! If the people of Velen submit to Sargeras, they will turn into a herd of these... these man'ari! Suddenly he realized: what he saw is not an isolated incident. Not just one world will suffer a bloody fate - tens, hundreds, thousands! If they support Sargeras, everything will perish! Then the legions of the man'ari, led by Kil'jaeden, Archimonde and - oh bright blessing, save us and protect us - by Belen himself, will destroy everything that exists, burn out and kill, like the unfortunate land that appeared in the prophecy. Perhaps Sargeras is mad? Or else worse - he understands what he is getting into, but still wants to go?

Blood and fire flooded the world, flooded Belen, incinerating, crushing, until he fell to the ground. Then the vision mercifully faded away, and he returned to the world, sobbing, trembling. Now he was alone in the temple, and the crystal glowed warmly, calming. Happy, peaceful warmth!

Blood and fire have not yet come. What was seen has not yet become reality. Sargeras did not lie: the Eredar will change, achieving almost divine strength, knowledge, power, and will lose everything they value, betraying everyone they swore to protect.

He wiped his forehead with his palm - just sweat, not blood.

Not yet blood. Is it possible to change the future, prevent destruction, stop the legion of monsters?

The answer came to him, clear and fresh, like a sip of cool, clean water in the desert: YES!

Friends appeared without delay, hearing the desperation in his call. In a few moments, he touched their minds, communicated what he saw, conveyed feelings. At first there was a glimmer of hope: they understood and agreed. What was predicted will not happen!

But Archimonde frowned.

We cannot verify this prophecy. These are just your suspicions.

Velen looked at his friend, perplexed, then turned to Kil'jaeden. He was not so enslaved by vanity. Kil'jaeden is strong and wise.

Archimonde is right,” Kil’jaeden confirmed without hesitation. “There is no truth here - only fears in your mind.”

Velen watched, filled with pain. Carefully, carefully, he separated his mind from the consciousness of his friends. Now he was left alone - he would never again share feelings and thoughts with these two, who used to be part of the whole, a continuation of his soul and mind. Kil'jaeden took the break in communication as a sign of agreement, as Velen's defeat - as he had hoped. Therefore, he smiled and put his hand on his shoulder.

Don’t be afraid - I won’t exchange what is good and right for something that could turn into trouble,” said Kil’jaeden comfortingly. “And I think you won’t either.”

Velen did not dare to lie - he simply lowered his eyes and sighed. Once upon a time, both Kil'jaeden and even Archimonde would have figured out such a simple dodge. But now they had no time for clues - they dreamed passionately about the immense power waiting ahead. It’s too late to convince them: these two, once so great, have already turned into servants Sargeras, have already stepped towards transformation into man'ari. Velen understood: if they realized that he was not with them, they would become enemies, and the consequences would be terrible. You cannot give yourself away, you need to survive - in order to save at least someone from your tribe from curse and death.

Velen nodded in agreement but remained silent, and it was decided that all Eredar leaders would submit to the great Sargeras. Kil'jaeden and Archimonde immediately set off to prepare a meeting for the new ruler. And Velen was left cursing himself for his helplessness. He wanted to protect the entire people, but he understood: it was impossible. Most would believe Kil'jaeden and Archimonde and follow them to a bitter fate. But there are a handful of like-minded people who trust and are ready to give up everything at one word from him. They will have to give up: their home world, Argus, will soon collapse, devoured by the madness of a legion of demons. The survivors can only flee.

Velen looked at the crystal, filled with despair. Sargeras is coming, and there is no escape from him in this world. How and where to run?

Tears clouded my vision. They probably made the crystal seem to flicker, tremble... Velen blinked - no, this was not a deception: the crystal began to glow! He rose slowly from the pedestal, swam, and hovered in front of the shocked Velen.

Amazed and trembling, Velen extended a strong hand, waiting for the familiar calm warmth.

He gasped - a stream of energy gushed from the crystal, almost as powerful as the dark force manifested in the vision. But the energy of the crystal was pure, undefiled - and with it hope was revived, the strength of the soul returned.

The strange field of light around the crystal grew, stretched out, taking on the shape of a strange creature. Velen blinked, almost blinded, but did not want to turn away.

You are not alone, Velen from the Eredar people,” a soft, quiet voice whispered in my mind, like the rustle of a stream, the rustle of a summer wind.

The radiance faded, and Velen saw a creature woven from living light, golden-yellow at the center, calmly purple at the edges.

Near the center of it, symbols gleaming with metal swirled and danced, pacifying and bewitching. It spoke, and its words, flashing in consciousness, seemed to be the voice of embodied light.

We also noticed the horror threatening many worlds. Our goal is the balance of existence, and what Sargeras has planned will turn the universe into ruins, into a kingdom of chaos. Everything pure, truthful, faithful, holy will perish irrevocably...

What are you... who? - Velen, stunned by the creature’s radiance, could not even put the question into a reasonable form.

We are Naaru. You can call me K'er.

Naaru... Ker... - Velen whispered and, as if, having spoken, he communed with their innermost essence.

The terrible thing has already begun. We are powerless to stop him - your friends are free in their choice.

But you reached out to us with a desperate heart, wanting to save what was available to salvation. Therefore, we will do what we can - we will save those whose hearts reject the horror offered by Sargeras.

What should I do? - Velen’s eyes filled with tears again, this time with joy and new hope.

Gather those who will listen to your wisdom. On the longest day of the year, climb the highest mountain of your land, taking the Ata"mal crystal with you. Long ago we gave it to your people so that at the right time you could find us. We will appear and carry you away.

For a moment, a shadow of doubt, unsteady, like a candle flame, flashed through Velen’s heart: after all, he had never heard of creatures of light called naaru, and now one of them wants Velen to steal the most precious relic of his people. Just think, he claims that they gave this crystal to the Eredar people! Perhaps Kil'jaeden and Archimonde were not mistaken, and Velen's vision was just the fruit of fear.

But while doubts overcame his mind, Velen realized that these were just echoes of bitterness and a desire to return everything to the former agreement, harmony and peace that reigned before the arrival of Sargeras.

That's it, there is no longer any doubt - he knows what to do. Velen bowed his head before the creature filled with light.

Velen was the first to call on his oldest and most trusted ally, Talgat, who had helped more than once in the past. Now everything depended on Talgat, who was able to remain unnoticed where Velen’s appearance would inevitably attract attention.

Talgat doubted at first, but when Velen connected minds and showed a picture of a dark future, he was convinced and immediately agreed to help. However, Velen did not tell anything about the naaru and the help they promised, because he did not know how exactly the light beings would help. He only assured that there is a way to avoid evil fate if Talgat trusts.

The longest day of the year was approaching. Taking advantage of the fact that Kil'jaeden and Archimonde thought only of Sargeras, Velen, with all caution and secrecy, touched the minds of those he trusted. Talgat also gathered people. Then Velen began to weave the finest magical network around both traitors, once revered by friends, so that they would not notice the feverish activity under their noses. The work went quickly, but it seemed so unacceptable, treacherously slow.

Finally the work was completed, the day arrived, those who chose Velen’s path followed him to the top of the highest mountain of their ancient world.

We looked around - how little had gathered, just hundreds! Alas, it was possible to call only those whom Velen completely trusted. You can't risk everything by calling in someone who is capable of betraying.

Shortly before ascending, Velen took the crystal from the temple. He had spent the last few days making a copy so that there would be no alarm when the crystal disappeared. I cut out a fake from ordinary crystal, cast a spell, giving it a glow, but the fake did not respond to touch. Anyone touching the crystal would immediately discover it was missing.

Velen held the real crystal tightly to himself, watching the eredars climb the mountain - strong hooves and arms easily found support. Many had already arrived and now looked in bewilderment, not daring, however, to voice the question.

How and where will they escape from here?

Indeed... And Velen was overcome by despair for a moment - but he remembered the beings of light that had united with his mind. They will come, for sure!

In the meantime, every moment it becomes more dangerous: they will reveal it, they will find it! So many have not yet arrived, not even Talgat. Old friend Restalaan smiled encouragingly:

They'll come soon, you'll see!

Velen nodded - most likely, his friend was right, even in the last days Archimonde and Kil'jaeden behaved as usual, and unaware of the daring plan. Both were too carried away by the anticipation of future power. But still, still...

The premonition that had once warned about Sargeras stirred in his consciousness again. Is there something wrong! Velen walked back and forth impatiently... Aha, here they are! Talgat and his companions climbed the climb, waved their arms, smiling in greeting, and Velen sighed with relief. He had already stepped forward - but the crystal suddenly awakened, and Velen seemed to be washed over by an icy wave. His fingers clenched the crystal, and his mind opened - and he felt a disgusting stench enveloping him!

Sargeras did not sleep, creating a monstrous legion, turning the Eredar, who frivolously trusted Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, into disgusting man'ari. Thousands of monsters of all possible shapes and guises lay on the slopes, hidden somehow from the mind and feelings of Velen. If it weren't for the crystal, he might not have noticed them until it was too late. Or maybe it's already too late!

He looked, amazed, at Talgat: a fetid miasma emanated from both him and those who followed him! From the depths of a despairing soul a plea soared up: “Ker, save us!”

The Man'ari felt that they had been discovered and rushed up, like hungry predators to prey. But any death is better than what these disfigured creatures were going to do to the remaining faithful! What to do?

Beside himself, Velen raised the crystal of Ata "mal to the sky - and it seemed to split, revealing a column of the brightest white light. It struck directly at the stone, splitting it into seven multi-colored rays. Pain burned Velen - the crystal exploded in his hands, sharp edges cut into his fingers Gasping, he released the fragments - and they hung, rounded, turned into balls, drew in multi-colored rays - each one, and then rushed into the sky.

Seven new crystals - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple and violet - having absorbed the power of the original white light, swirled in the heights, creating a shining dome around the terrified eredar.

Undisguised hatred flashed in Talgat's gaze, he rushed - and hit a wall of multi-colored light, recoiled, stunned. Velen looked around: everywhere the man'ari were rushing, growling, drooling, tearing with their claws the wall, created only from light, but protecting the faithful.

A low, heavy roar shook the mountain and ran through the body, through the bones and nerves. Velen looked up, and - oh, a miracle beyond the seven balls of light on this day of miracles! - a star descended from the sky, so bright that it was impossible to look at it. But up close it was seen that the radiance came not from an unsteady celestial firefly, but from a strange creature with a soft round core - like many connected spheres, and at the edges - transparent triangular protrusions, as if made of crystal. When someone else's voice touched his mind, Velen began to cry.

I promised - and I'm here. Prepare to leave this world, Prophet Velen.

He extended his arms - almost like a child demanding a mother's loving embrace. The ball above him pulsated, and Velen felt it slowly rise and float upward. The others also swam, approaching the creature, which, as Velen suddenly realized, was a gigantic ship, albeit pulsating with an incomprehensible life. From below, the man'ari raged, roared, and screamed, powerless to grab the fleeing prey. The base of the ship opened, and a moment later the firmament appeared under their feet. Velen knelt down, watching his people rise to the ship.

Rise of the Horde

The power that the stranger radiated swirled in a whirlpool of magnificent shades and vibrations, flowing around him like a wave around a cape, surrounding his mighty head with light as if it were a crown. His voice was heard both in the ears and inside the head, and rushed through the blood like a sweet song that had been forgotten a long time ago and was suddenly remembered.

What he offered was tempting, it was exciting and it made your heart ache with longing. But, nevertheless, but still... there was something....

As soon as he left, the Eredar leaders looked at each other and began to talk quietly, because their words were intended only for them alone.

“There is nothing to add to what he offers us,” said the first. He stood tall in both the physical and metaphysical worlds, emitting an echo of his power.

“So much power,” muttered the second one, still with his head in the clouds. He was graceful and beautiful, and his essence was magnificent and radiant. "And he tells the truth. What he showed us really exists. No one can lie so skillfully."

The third remained silent. What the second one said was true. The method by which this powerful being showed what it offered could not be falsified, they all understood it well. However, that being, this... Sargeras... there was something about him that Velen did not like.

Velen's fellow leaders were also his friends. He was especially friendly with Kil'jaeden, the most powerful and decisive of the trio. They were friends for many years, which passed unnoticed by the creatures that live beyond the reach of time. Kil'jaeden was inclined to make decisions, taking more into account Velen's point of view, than Archimonde’s opinion, but the latter’s position could sometimes sway Kil’jaeden if it appealed to his vanity.

Velen thought again about the vision Sargeras had shown him. Worlds to conquer, and more importantly, to explore and explore; after all, above all, the Eredar were curious. For such mighty beings, knowledge was meat and water to lesser races, and Sargeras offered them a tantalizing glimpse of what could be theirs if they only...

They will only swear their loyalty to him.

Only they will accept this vow for all their people.

“As usual, our Velen is cautious,” said Archimonde. The words may have been a compliment; but they pricked Velen as if it were an indulgence. He knew what Archimonde wanted, and Velen knew that he saw his hesitation as nothing more than an obstacle to what he, Archimonde, craved at that moment. Velen smiled.

"Yes, I am distrustful, and sometimes my precaution has saved our skins as many times as your determination, Kil'jaeden, and your instinctive impetuosity, Archimonde."

They both laughed, and for a moment Velen's heart warmed. But they had already calmed down, and he felt that at least they had already made up their minds. Velen felt his heart skip a beat as he watched them leave, hoping he had made the right decision.

The three of them always worked well together, their different personalities balancing each other out. The result was harmony and peace for their people. He knew that Kil'jaeden and Archimonde truly wanted what was best not only for them, but also for those they led. He shared this feeling, and they had always reached agreement on such matters before.

Velen frowned. Why did Sargeras, so convincing, so alluring, make him so wary? Others were apparently inclined to accept his offer. Sargeras told them that the Eredar were exactly what he was looking for. A strong, passionate, proud people who would serve him well and help his cause, which he wants to take to all worlds, everywhere, with them. He said he would help these worlds. He would change them, make them better, give them a gift that the universe had never seen before, and indeed, the universe had never before experienced both the power of Sargeras and the uniqueness of the Eredar. What Sargeras said is indeed true.

And yet, and yet...

Velen went to the temple, which he had often visited before, being worried. There were others there that night, sitting around the only pillar in the room on which was the precious ata'mal crystal. The artifact was ancient, so ancient that no Eredar could tell about its origin, even less was known about it. than about the emergence of their race. According to legend, long ago it was a gift as a reward. The crystal allowed them to expand both their mental abilities and their knowledge of the secrets of the universe. It was used in the past for healing, for spells, and, in fact, what one hopes to use today in the evening Velen, for foresight. He approached the crystal with reverence and touched its triangular shape. The warmth of the stone, as if a small animal had taken refuge in his hand, calmed Velen. He breathed deeply, allowing the familiar power to flow through his body, then he let go of his hand and returned to the circle.

Velen closed his eyes. He revealed every part of his body that could receive an answer - body, mind and magical intuition. At first, what he saw only seemed to confirm Sargeras' promises. He saw himself next to Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, lords not just of their noble and proud people, but also of other countless worlds. There was power around them, power that, as Velen already knew, would intoxicate with every sip like liquor. They possessed delightful cities and their inhabitants, prostrate before the trinity with cheers and cries of adoration and devotion. Technology that Velen could never have imagined awaited exploration. Volumes in strange languages ​​were translated for him, speaking of magic that had never before been no one imagined and could not express in words.

It was amazing and his heart was filled with joy.

He turned to look at Kil'jaeden, and his old friend smiled at him. Archimonde placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

And then Velen looked at himself.

And he screamed in horror.

His body became huge, twisted and distorted. The smooth blue skin became black-brown and flabby, as if the once noble tree had been disfigured by disease. There was light coming from him, yes, but the light was not pure positive energy, but a sickly green color. Desperately, he turned around to look at his friends, the supporting Zhredar leaders. But they were also transformed. They also did not retain anything of who they were before, they became -

The word Eredar, meaning some terrible mistake, something twisted, unnatural and dirty, flashed clearly through his mind. He screamed again and fell to his knees. Velen turned away from his tormented body, seeking the peace, prosperity and knowledge that Sargeras had promised him. He contemplated only atrocities. Where there had been a worshiping crowd before him, there were now only mangled corpses or bodies that, like him,

The power that the stranger radiated swirled in a whirlpool of magnificent shades and vibrations, flowing around him like a wave around a cape, surrounding his mighty head with light as if it were a crown. His voice was heard both in the ears and inside the head, and rushed through the blood like a sweet song that had been forgotten a long time ago and was suddenly remembered.

What he offered was tempting, it was exciting and it made your heart ache with longing. But, nevertheless, but still... there was something....

As soon as he left, the Eredar leaders looked at each other and began to talk quietly, because their words were intended only for them alone.

“There is nothing to add to what he offers us,” said the first. He stood tall in both the physical and metaphysical worlds, emitting an echo of his power.

“So much power,” muttered the second one, still with his head in the clouds. He was graceful and beautiful, and his essence was magnificent and radiant. "And he tells the truth. What he showed us really exists. No one can lie so skillfully."

The third remained silent. What the second one said was true. The method by which this powerful being showed what it offered could not be falsified, they all understood it well. However, that being, this... Sargeras... there was something about him that Velen did not like.

Velen's fellow leaders were also his friends. He was especially friendly with Kil'jaeden, the most powerful and decisive of the trio. They were friends for many years, which passed unnoticed by the creatures that live beyond the reach of time. Kil'jaeden was inclined to make decisions, taking more into account Velen's point of view, than Archimonde’s opinion, but the latter’s position could sometimes sway Kil’jaeden if it appealed to his vanity.

Velen thought again about the vision Sargeras had shown him. Worlds to conquer, and more importantly, to explore and explore; after all, above all, the Eredar were curious. For such mighty beings, knowledge was meat and water to lesser races, and Sargeras offered them a tantalizing glimpse of what could be theirs if they only...

They will only swear their loyalty to him.

Only they will accept this vow for all their people.

“As usual, our Velen is cautious,” said Archimonde. The words may have been a compliment; but they pricked Velen as if it were an indulgence. He knew what Archimonde wanted, and Velen knew that he saw his hesitation as nothing more than an obstacle to what he, Archimonde, craved at that moment. Velen smiled.

"Yes, I am distrustful, and sometimes my precaution has saved our skins as many times as your determination, Kil'jaeden, and your instinctive impetuosity, Archimonde."

They both laughed, and for a moment Velen's heart warmed. But they had already calmed down, and he felt that at least they had already made up their minds. Velen felt his heart skip a beat as he watched them leave, hoping he had made the right decision.

The three of them always worked well together, their different personalities balancing each other out. The result was harmony and peace for their people. He knew that Kil'jaeden and Archimonde truly wanted what was best not only for them, but also for those they led. He shared this feeling, and they had always reached agreement on such matters before.

Velen frowned. Why did Sargeras, so convincing, so alluring, make him so wary? Others were apparently inclined to accept his offer. Sargeras told them that the Eredar were exactly what he was looking for. A strong, passionate, proud people who would serve him well and help his cause, which he wants to take to all worlds, everywhere, with them. He said he would help these worlds. He would change them, make them better, give them a gift that the universe had never seen before, and indeed, the universe had never before experienced both the power of Sargeras and the uniqueness of the Eredar. What Sargeras said is indeed true.

And yet, and yet...

Velen went to the temple, which he had often visited before, being worried. There were others there that night, sitting around the only pillar in the room on which was the precious ata'mal crystal. The artifact was ancient, so ancient that no Eredar could tell about its origin, even less was known about it. than about the emergence of their race. According to legend, long ago it was a gift as a reward. The crystal allowed them to expand both their mental abilities and their knowledge of the secrets of the universe. It was used in the past for healing, for spells, and, in fact, what one hopes to use today in the evening Velen, for foresight. He approached the crystal with reverence and touched its triangular shape. The warmth of the stone, as if a small animal had taken refuge in his hand, calmed Velen. He breathed deeply, allowing the familiar power to flow through his body, then he let go of his hand and returned to the circle.

Velen closed his eyes. He revealed every part of his body that could receive an answer - body, mind and magical intuition. At first, what he saw only seemed to confirm Sargeras' promises. He saw himself next to Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, lords not just of their noble and proud people, but also of other countless worlds. There was power around them, power that, as Velen already knew, would intoxicate with every sip like liquor. They possessed delightful cities and their inhabitants, prostrate before the trinity with cheers and cries of adoration and devotion. Technology that Velen could never have imagined awaited exploration. Volumes in strange languages ​​were translated for him, speaking of magic that had never before been no one imagined and could not express in words.

It was amazing and his heart was filled with joy.

He turned to look at Kil'jaeden, and his old friend smiled at him. Archimonde placed a friendly hand on his shoulder.

And then Velen looked at himself.

And he screamed in horror.

His body became huge, twisted and distorted. The smooth blue skin became black-brown and flabby, as if the once noble tree had been disfigured by disease. There was light coming from him, yes, but the light was not pure positive energy, but a sickly green color. Desperately, he turned around to look at his friends, the supporting Zhredar leaders. But they were also transformed. They also did not retain anything of who they were before, they became -

The word Eredar, meaning some terrible mistake, something twisted, unnatural and dirty, flashed clearly through his mind. He screamed again and fell to his knees. Velen turned away from his tormented body, seeking the peace, prosperity and knowledge that Sargeras had promised him. He contemplated only atrocities. Where before him there had been a worshiping crowd, there were now only mangled corpses or bodies that, like himself, like Kil'jaeden, like Archimonde, had been transformed into monsters. Among the dead and distorted were raging creatures that Velen had never seen before . Strange dogs with tentacles growing from their backs. Tiny twisted figures that danced and laughed at the bodies. Deceptively beautiful creatures with wings that looked at it all with admiration and pride. Where the cloven hooves of these creatures stepped, everything died. Not only the grass, but also the earth itself; everything that gave life was erased, swept away.

This was what Sargeras planned to do for the Eredar. This was the "exaltation" of which he spoke so passionately. If the people of Velen unite with Sargeras, then he will become one of these monsters... these man'ari. And somehow Velen realized that what he now saw would not be the only case. Not only his one world would fall. This there will not even be a dozen, not a hundred or a thousand worlds.

Christy Golden

World of Warcraft: Birth of the Horde

I dedicate this book to Chris Metzen (his support and enthusiasm was very useful to me in working on this project), as well as the fantastic creatures from the World of WarCraft® PII server - all those with whom I had the honor of playing. Among them are Aron and Erica Jolly-Meers, Lacey Coleman and Sean Rich, to whom I am especially grateful, because he was the one who got me into role-playing.

Council of Shadows, forward to victory!

The stranger's power radiated with light, a dazzling play of colors and shades. The light covered him like a cloak, shining like a crown around his mighty head. The stranger’s voice was accepted by both the ears and the mind, and sweet joy flowed through his veins - as if from a favorite song, forgotten, but suddenly remembered.

The gift offered by the stranger was great.

Hearts were drawn to him, but still... A shadow of doubt rose over him.

When the stranger disappeared, the Eredar leaders spoke to each other - secret words of minds.

“For so much, he desires so little,” noted the first, flexing his muscles, “and the echo of his power ran through both worlds, the corruptible and the spiritual.”

“Such power,” muttered the second one thoughtfully—beautiful, graceful, full of grace and beauty. “And he told us the truth, for no one can lie when telling something like that.”

What he predicted will happen!

The third was silent. All three knew: the vision shown by the stranger could not be faked, it was true. Yet the third leader, Velen, although he believed the vision, was alarmed - there was something frightening in the stranger who called himself Sargeras. The Eredar leaders were friends. Velen was especially friendly with Kil'jaeden, the strongest and most determined of the three. They were friends for countless years, passing unnoticed by creatures over whom time has no power. In Velen's eyes, Kil'jaeden's opinion weighed more than Archimonde's - although he thought sensibly, he was vain and susceptible to flattery, and therefore did not always judge impartially. And Kil'jaeden was in favor of agreeing with the stranger.

Velen began to ponder the vision again: new worlds waiting to be explored and, more importantly, explored, comprehended. Eredars are very inquisitive. Knowledge is as necessary for them as bread and water are for lower creatures. And Sargeras promised something amazing, attractive, bewitching - if only the Eredar would agree to a little: swear allegiance to Sargeras.

And they promise the loyalty of their peoples.

“As usual, our Velen is circumspect and careful,” Archimonde noted.

Words clothed in the form of praise, but now they seemed almost mockery to Velen.

He knew what Archimonde wanted, he knew that his friend’s indecision seemed to him an annoying obstacle on the way to what he wanted. Velen smiled.

“Yes, I am the most cautious of us, and my caution has saved us as often as your determination, Kil’jaeden, and your resourcefulness, Archimonde.”

They both laughed, and for a moment Velen felt the same friendly warmth. And after laughing, I felt: they had already decided. They parted in silence.

Velen looked after his friends leaving, and his heart became heavier. Did they do the right thing? How will he decide?

They had known each other for a long time - so different, but complementing and balancing each other for the benefit of peace and tranquility of their people. Velen knew that leaders put the well-being of those who trusted them above all else, and the three always managed to come to an agreement.

Now they have already decided to accept the gift - but why is it so alarming from the confidence and charm of Sargeras? The guest assured: it was the Eredars that he was looking for - a strong, proud, passionate, intelligent people. Oh, how the Eredar will be able to strengthen their power, serving a noble goal - the unity of all worlds. Sargeras will change the Eredar, give them gifts that the universe has never known, for never before has a power like Sargeras been combined with the uniqueness of the Eredar. Sargeras showed the truth...

And yet - why doubt?

Velen went to the temple, where he often looked in times of anxiety. That night there were other eredar in the temple: they sat around a stone pedestal with the precious Ata’mal crystal. The crystal was so ancient that no one remembered its origin - just as the Eredar did not remember theirs. The legend said: the crystal was given to the Eredar in ancient times. It made it possible to strengthen the abilities of the mind, study and understand the secrets of the universe, was used for healing, summoning entities, and sometimes allowed one to look into the future. That night Velen wanted to look into the future. He approached reverently and touched the crystal. Warm - like an animal curled up in the palm of your hand. The warm touch is soothing. Velen took a deep breath - the familiar power nourished his soul - then returned to the circle of contemplators.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, opening his mind and body to perception, the magician’s instincts. And at first I saw confirmation of the prophecy of Sargeras: I saw myself standing on a par with Kil’jaeden and Archimonde, rulers not only of their noble and proud people, but also of countless worlds. The three were enveloped in power, enticing, intoxicating, like the strongest wines. Shining cities lay at their feet, and the townspeople prostrated themselves before the rulers, greeting them with cries of joy and adoration, showing loyalty.

New knowledge and skills, unprecedented devices awaited the knowing gaze. Volumes in as yet unknown languages ​​awaited translation, promising to reveal strange, unimaginable magic. Great, glorious thing! Velen's head swam with delight.

He looked at Kil'jaeden - his old friend was smiling. Archimonde touched his shoulder in a friendly manner.

Then Velen looked at himself and screamed in horror. The body became huge, but monstrously distorted. The smooth blue skin turned black, showed brown spots, and swelled with rough growths - like the bark of a noble tree affected by disease. Light came from Velen - but not the pure, clear light of untainted power, but poisonous green, sick, alarming. Stunned, he turned to his friends - they had also lost their former appearances.

They became man'ari!

This word in the Eredar language meant something monstrously distorted, incorrect, desecrated. The realization hit my soul like a flaming sword. Velen screamed, trembling, tore his eyes from his distorted body, looked around, looking for the peace and prosperity Sargeras had promised, but saw only evil. Where a moment before there had been a jubilant crowd, mutilated corpses lay, and creatures walking on them had turned, like Kil’jaeden and Archimonde, into monsters. Unseen monsters jumped over the bodies in blood: dogs with tentacles on their backs, tiny, laughing creatures dancing among the carrion, deceptively beautiful, graceful creatures with outstretched wings behind their backs, looking at the carnage with pleasure and pride. Where the cloven hooves of these creatures walked, the earth died. Not only the grass decayed, but also the soil; everything that gave life dried up and died.

So this is what Sargeras wanted to do to the Eredars, this is the “strengthening” he was talking about, beaming! If the people of Velen submit to Sargeras, they will turn into a herd of these... these man'ari! Suddenly he realized: what he saw was not an isolated incident. Not just one world will suffer a bloody fate - dozens, hundreds, thousands! If they support Sargeras, everyone will die! Then the legions of the Man'ari, led by Kil'jaeden, Archimonde and - oh bright blessing, save us and protect us - by Velen himself, will destroy everything that exists, burn it out and kill it, like the unfortunate land that appeared in the prophecy. Perhaps Sargeras is mad? Or is it even worse - he understands what he is getting into, but still wants to go?

Blood and fire flooded the world, flooded Velen, incinerating, crushing, until he fell to the ground. Then the vision mercifully faded away, and he returned to the world, sobbing, trembling. Now he was alone in the temple, and the crystal glowed warmly, calming. Happy, peaceful warmth!

Blood and fire have not yet come. What was seen has not yet become reality. Sargeras did not lie: the Eredar will change, achieving almost divine strength, knowledge, power, and will lose everything they value, betraying everyone they swore to protect.

He wiped his forehead with his palm—it was just sweat, not blood.

Not yet blood. Is it possible to change the future, prevent destruction, stop the legion of monsters?

The answer came to him, clear and fresh, like a sip of cool, clean water in the desert: YES!

Friends appeared without delay, hearing the desperation in his call. In a few moments, he touched their minds, communicated what he saw, conveyed feelings. At first there was a glimmer of hope: they understood and agreed. What was predicted will not happen!

But Archimonde frowned.

– We cannot verify this prophecy. These are just your suspicions.

Velen looked at his friend, puzzled, then turned to Kil'jaeden. He was not so enslaved by vanity. Kil'jaeden is strong and wise.

Velen watched, filled with pain. Carefully, carefully, he separated his mind from the consciousness of his friends. Now he was left alone - he would never again share feelings and thoughts with these two, who used to be part of the whole, a continuation of his soul and mind. Kil'jaeden took the break in communication as a sign of agreement, as Velen's defeat - as he had hoped. So he smiled and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid, I won’t trade what is good and right for something that could turn into disaster,” Kil’jaeden said comfortingly. - Yes, and you too, I think.

Velen did not dare to lie - he simply lowered his eyes and sighed. Once upon a time, both Kil'jaeden and even Archimonde would have figured out such a simple subterfuge. But now they had no time for clues - they dreamed passionately about the immense power waiting ahead. It’s too late to change your mind: these two, once so great, have already turned into servants of Sargeras, have already stepped towards turning into man’ari. Velen understood: if they realized that he was not with them, they would become enemies, and the consequences would be terrible. You cannot give yourself away, you need to survive - in order to save at least someone from your tribe from curse and death.

Velen nodded in agreement but remained silent, and it was decided that all Eredar leaders would submit to the great Sargeras. Kil'jaeden and Archimonde immediately set off to prepare a meeting for the new ruler. And Velen was left cursing himself for his helplessness. I wanted to protect the entire people, but I understood: it was impossible. Most will believe Kil'jaeden and Archimonde and follow them to a bitter fate. But there are a handful of like-minded people who trust and are ready to give up everything at one word from him. They will have to give up: their home world, Argus, will soon collapse, devoured by the madness of a legion of demons. The survivors can only flee.

Velen looked at the crystal, filled with despair. Sargeras is coming, and there is no escape from him in this world. How and where to run?

Tears clouded my vision. They probably made the crystal seem to flicker, tremble... Velen blinked - no, this was not a deception: the crystal began to glow! He rose slowly from the pedestal, swam, and hovered in front of the shocked Velen.

Amazed and trembling, Velen extended a strong hand, waiting for the familiar calm warmth.

He gasped - a stream of energy gushed from the crystal, almost as powerful as the dark force manifested in the vision. But the energy of the crystal was pure, undefiled - and with it hope was revived, the strength of the soul returned.

The strange field of light around the crystal grew, stretched out, taking on the shape of a strange creature. Velen blinked, almost blinded, but did not want to turn away.

“You are not alone, Velen from the Eredar people,” a soft, quiet voice whispered in my mind, like the rustle of a stream, the rustle of a summer wind.

The radiance faded, and Velen saw a creature woven from living light, golden-yellow at the center, calmly purple at the edges.

Near the center of it, symbols gleaming with metal swirled and danced, pacifying and bewitching. It spoke, and its words, flashing in consciousness, seemed to be the voice of embodied light.

“We also noticed the horror threatening many worlds. Our goal is the balance of existence, and what Sargeras has planned will turn the universe into ruins, into a kingdom of chaos. Everything pure, truthful, faithful, holy will perish irrevocably...

- What are you... who? – Velen, stunned by the creature’s radiance, could not even put the question into a reasonable form.

- We are Naaru. You can call me K'ure.

“Naaru... K'ure...” Velen whispered and as if, having spoken, he communed with their innermost essence.

- The terrible thing has already begun. We are powerless to stop him - your friends are free in their choice.

But you reached out to us with a desperate heart, wanting to save what was available to salvation. Therefore, we will do what we can - we will save those whose hearts reject the horror offered by Sargeras.

- What should I do? – Velen’s eyes filled with tears again, this time with joy and new hope.

– Gather those who will listen to your wisdom. On the longest day of the year, climb the highest mountain of your land, taking the Ata'mal crystal with you. Long ago we gave it to your people so that at the right time you could find us. We will appear and carry you away.

For a moment, a shadow of doubt, unsteady, like a candle flame, flashed through Velen’s heart: after all, he had never heard of creatures of light called naaru, and now one of them wants Velen to steal the most precious relic of his people. Just think, he claims that they gave this crystal to the Eredar people! Perhaps Kil'jaeden and Archimonde were right, and Velen's vision was just a figment of fear.

But while doubts overwhelmed the mind, Velen realized that these were just echoes of bitterness and a desire to return everything to the former agreement, harmony and peace that reigned before the arrival of Sargeras.

That's it, there is no longer any doubt - he knows what to do. Velen bowed his head before the creature filled with light.

Velen was the first to call on his oldest and most trusted ally, Talgat, who had helped more than once in the past. Now everything depended on Talgat, who was able to remain unnoticed where Velen’s appearance would inevitably attract attention.

Talgat doubted at first, but when Velen connected minds and showed a picture of a dark future, he was convinced and immediately agreed to help. However, Velen did not tell anything about the naaru and the help they promised, because he did not know how exactly the light beings would help. He only assured that there is a way to avoid evil fate if Talgat trusts.

The longest day of the year was approaching. Taking advantage of the fact that Kil'jaeden and Archimonde thought only of Sargeras, Velen, with all caution and secrecy, touched the minds of those he trusted. Talgat also gathered people. Then Velen began to weave the finest magical network around both traitors, once revered by friends, so that they would not notice the feverish activity under their noses. The work went quickly, but it seemed so unacceptable, treacherously slow.

Finally the work was completed, the day arrived, those who chose Velen’s path followed him to the top of the highest mountain of their ancient world.

We looked around - how little had gathered, just hundreds! Alas, it was possible to call only those whom Velen completely trusted. You can't risk everything by calling in someone who is capable of betraying.

Shortly before ascending, Velen took the crystal from the temple. He had spent the last few days making a copy so that there would be no alarm when the crystal disappeared. I cut out a fake from ordinary crystal, cast a spell, giving it a glow, but the fake did not respond to touch. Anyone touching the crystal would immediately discover it was missing.

Velen held the real crystal tightly to himself, watching the eredars climb the mountain - strong hooves and arms easily found support. Many had already arrived and now looked in bewilderment, not daring, however, to voice the question.

How and where will they escape from here?

Indeed... And Velen was overcome by despair for a moment - but he remembered the beings of light that had united with his mind. They will come, for sure!

In the meantime, every moment it becomes more dangerous: they will reveal it, they will find it! So many have not yet arrived, not even Talgat. Old friend Restalaan smiled encouragingly:

- They'll come soon, you'll see!

Velen nodded - most likely, his friend was right; even in the last days, Archimonde and Kil’jaeden behaved as usual, unaware of the daring plan. Both were too carried away by the anticipation of future power. But still, still...

The premonition that had once warned about Sargeras stirred in his consciousness again. Is there something wrong! Velen walked back and forth impatiently... Aha, here they are! Talgat and his companions climbed the climb, waved their arms, smiling in greeting, and Velen sighed with relief. He had already stepped forward - but the crystal suddenly awakened, and Velen seemed to be washed over by an icy wave. His fingers clenched the crystal, and his mind opened - and he felt a disgusting stench enveloping him!

Sargeras did not sleep, creating a monstrous legion, turning the eredar, who had frivolously trusted Archimonde and Kil'jaeden, into disgusting man'ari. Thousands of monsters of all possible shapes and guises lay on the slopes, hidden somehow from the mind and feelings of Velen. If it weren't for the crystal, he might not have noticed them until it was too late. Or maybe it's already too late!

He looked, amazed, at Talgat: a fetid miasma emanated from both him and those who followed him! From the depths of a despairing soul a plea rose up: “K’ure, save us!”

The Man'ari felt that they had been discovered and rushed upward, like hungry predators hunting for prey. But any death is better than what these disfigured creatures are about to inflict on the remaining faithful! What to do?

Beside himself, Velen raised the Ata'mal crystal to the sky - and it seemed to split, revealing a column of bright white light. He hit the stone directly, splitting it into seven multi-colored rays. Pain burned Velen - the crystal exploded in his hands, sharp edges cut into his fingers. Gasping, he released the fragments - and they hung, rounded, turned into balls, drew in multi-colored rays - each one, and then rushed into the sky.

Seven new crystals - red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple and violet - absorbed the power of the original white light, swirled in the heights, creating a shining dome around the terrified eredar.

Undisguised hatred flashed in Talgat's gaze, he rushed - and hit a wall of multi-colored light, recoiling, stunned. Velen looked around: everywhere the man’ari were rushing, growling, drooling, tearing with their claws the wall, created only from light, but which protected the faithful.

A low, heavy roar shook the mountain and ran through the body, through the bones and nerves. Velen looked up, and - oh, a miracle beyond the seven balls of light on this day of miracles! - a star descended from the sky, so bright that it was impossible to look at it. But up close, it was seen that the radiance came not from an unsteady celestial firefly, but from a strange creature with a soft round core - like many connected spheres, and at the edges - transparent triangular protrusions, as if made of crystal. When someone else's voice touched his mind, Velen began to cry.

He extended his arms, almost like a child demanding a mother's loving embrace. The ball above him pulsated, and Velen felt it slowly rise and float upward. The others also swam, approaching the creature, which, as Velen suddenly realized, was a gigantic ship, albeit pulsating with an incomprehensible life. From below, the man'ari raged, roared, and screamed, powerless to grab the elusive prey. The base of the ship opened up, and a moment later there was solid ground underfoot. Velen knelt to watch his people ascend to the ship.

He expected that when the last one arrived, the hatch would close, and the ship, made of living metal, which, as he suspected, was the essence of K'ure, would set off.

But a whisper sounded in my consciousness: “Take the crystal that has become seven, you will need it.”

Velen leaned over the hatch, extended his hands - and the crystals rushed towards him, crashing into his palms with such force that he gasped. He pressed them to himself, not paying attention to the unbearable heat emanating from them, and pushed off from the edge. At the same instant, the hatch disappeared, as if it had never existed. Squeezing seven Ata’mal crystals, confused, perplexed, Velen froze for a moment between despair and hope: what will happen? Were you really saved?

Kil'jaeden, who led the army, watched with pleasure as the slaves stormed the mountain in a countless pack. Already the joy of victory, the joy of the sight of a defeated enemy visited him, as sweet as the quenching of the predatory hunger that Sargeras had sown in his soul. Talgat fulfilled his assignment well. Velena was saved only by pure chance - she was lucky to grab the crystal at the moment of the attack. If he hadn't grabbed it, he would have turned into a pile of meat shreds.

But still, Velen was lucky, Velen was warned, and something incomprehensible happened: the traitor was surrounded by protection from light, and then someone took him away.

The strange savior ship flickered above and disappeared.

Got away! Damn it, the traitor has escaped! The Man'ari, whose joy had filled Kil'jaeden's soul seconds ago, were now filled with resentment and disappointment. Kil'jaeden touched their minds: no, no one understands what is happening. What managed to take the traitor away right from under his nose? Kil'jaeden suddenly shuddered in horror: what would the master say?

- Now what? – asked Archimonde.

Kil'jaeden looked at his ally and growled:

- We will find him! We will find and destroy, even if it takes a thousand years!

My name is Thrall.

In the language of people it means "slave." This name has long roots, and now I won’t tell you why it was given to me. By the blessing of the spirits and the power of the blood of heroes flowing in my veins, I became the supreme leader of my people - the free orcs - and the leader of the alliance of tribes and races now called the Horde. I'll tell you how this happened another time. Now I want to capture on parchment the story of my father and those who believed in him, as well as those who betrayed him and all my people. I am in a hurry, because the time is approaching for the still living heroes of this story to go to their great ancestors.

What would have become of us if fate had taken a different path, even the wise Drek’Thar cannot say.

The paths of the destined are manifold, and it is hardly worth it for anyone endowed with reason to embark on the deceptively easy path that begins with “if only.” What happened, happened, and my people accepted with honor both the glory and the shame of our deeds.

This story is not about the current Horde - a loose alliance of orcs, tauren, trolls, Forsaken and blood elves - but about the rise of the first Horde. She was born, like any child, in blood and agony, and the first cries of the newborn meant death for her enemies...

But this terrible and bloody story began in the distant past, among the rolling hills and fertile valleys of a peaceful land called Draenor.

The rhythmic roar of drums lulled almost all the younger orcs, but Durotan of the Frostwolf clan could not sleep. It was warm and cozy: the frozen earthen floor of the tent was covered with a thick layer of straw, and the sleepers were reliably protected from the cold by the shaggy skin of a hoof. The neighbors were sleeping, but it seemed to him: the drum roll was hanging in the air, rolling along the ground towards the body itself, exciting, calling!

How I wanted to respond to the ancient call, to come to the adults!

Durotan still has a year left before his initiation, before the Om'riggor ritual. And while this year drags on, you will have to hang around with the children in a big tent, while adults talk around the fires about mysterious and important things. He shifted on the skin and sighed - how unfair!

The orcs did not fight among themselves, but they were not very friendly either. Each clan had its own traditions, customs, clothing, legends and its own shaman. And the dialects sometimes differed so much that orcs of different clans had to speak a common language.

And it seemed to them that they differed from each other almost more than from another intelligent race that shared an abundance of forests, fields and rivers with the orcs - the blue-skinned mysterious draenei.

Only twice a year did all the orc clans gather to celebrate the sacred days of the equinoxes.

The Kosh'harg festival began only last evening at moonrise. But for several days now, the orcs had been gradually gathering in the holy place of the land called Nagrand, the land of the Winds, in the shadow of the blessed Mountain of Spirits, Oshu'gun. The holiday has been celebrated here since time immemorial, and violence has never desecrated this place. Of course, there were ritual fights and boasting of warriors, but real combat and blood were not allowed - if a brawl arose, as happens in a large crowd, the shamans reconciled everyone and forced the troublemakers to leave the sacred place.

And the place was truly blessed: fertile, beautiful, calm. Maybe it was like this because the orcs came here only in peace - or maybe the harsh beauty of this land itself reconciled them? Durotan often thought about such things, but did not tell anyone - after all, no one spoke about such things.

He sighed quietly, completely disturbed, awakened. My heart was beating to the beat of the drum, and my thoughts were racing. How wonderful it was last night! When the White Lady rose above the dark strip of the forest, already slightly damaged, but still powerful, flooded with the bright light of the snow, a battle cry was issued by all those gathered, many thousands: wise elders, warriors in the prime of life, even children in the arms of their mothers. And the wolves, friends and comrades, who carried the orcs into battle on their backs, howled joyfully. And then, like the roar of drums now, an ancient cry ran like fire through the veins of Durotan - a greeting to the shining White Lady who rules the night sky. A forest of powerful dark hands, silvered by her light, rose towards her. If any stupid ogre had decided to attack, he would have perished in an instant under the blows of the fierce and inspired fighters.

Then the feast began. Many animals were killed in advance, before the arrival of winter, the meat was dried, withered, and smoked. And for the holiday they lit bonfires, whose warm light mixed with the white magical radiance of the Lady, and the drums sang, which did not stop throughout the holiday. Children - Durotan snorted contemptuously: me too, child! - they allowed us to eat our fill, but after the shamans went to the mountain, they forced us to go to bed. The shaman of each clan had to climb Oshu'gun, which stood as a silent guardian of the holiday, enter the caves and speak with the spirits of their ancestors.

Oshu'gun was impressive even from afar. The rest of the mountains were jagged and uneven. Oshu'gun burst out of the ground in a regular cone and looked like a giant crystal - its outline was so impeccable and it sparkled so brightly in the sunlight and moonlight. Legends said that hundreds of years ago it fell from the sky. Seeing her unusualness, one could believe it.

Durotan always believed that the shamans were offended by forcing them to sit on the mountain for the entire holiday. Of course, it may be interesting there, but the real fun is below! And they are deprived as if they were minors.

What exactly is it interesting to know?

During the day they hunted and reenacted hunts, commemorated their ancestors, and talked about their heroism and accomplishments. Each clan had its own legends, and to the already familiar legends heard from childhood, Durotan added quite a few new, surprising and blood-stirring ones.

It was great! So what are these adults discussing around the fires, while the children are dozing in the tents, their bellies full of good food, when the pipes are smoked and all kinds of infusions are drunk?

He walked slowly, carefully - the children were lying here and there, no matter what the hour was, you would step on them and wake them up.

Your heart is pounding wildly with excitement, and the silhouettes are barely visible in the darkness! Durotan very smoothly, carefully lowered his long feet, positioned him like a heron on a sticky shore.

I walked for ages. He stood up, trying to control his breathing, extended his hand - and touched someone’s smooth-skinned body! He pulled it back, exhaled in fear, hissing.