World of Warcraft: The Shattering: Prelude to Cataclysm Page 0,104

allowed himself to be so carried away as to forget Gorehowl. It would not happen again. He waved the bodyguard away, and the Kor’kron bowed again and moved into the shadows, leaving Garrosh alone with the axe that had been his father’s.

As he regarded the axe, and the blood on the arena where Cairne had fallen, he heard a voice behind him. An orc’s—but not one of his bodyguards.

“This is a loss to the Horde, and I know you know it.”

Garrosh turned to see Eitrigg sitting up in the stands. What was the old orc doing here? He couldn’t remember seeing Eitrigg during the combat, but surely he had to have been present. Garrosh found he didn’t remember much about the actual fight itself; it was no wonder that he hadn’t been paying attention to who else was watching. He had been rather occupied at the time.

He debated chastising the other orc, but found he was strangely weary. “I do know it. But I had no choice. He challenged me.”

“Many saw the challenge. I don’t dispute that. But did you not notice how quickly he fell?”

Unease stirred in Garrosh. “I do not remember much. It was … fast, and heated.”

Eitrigg nodded. Slowly, for Garrosh knew his joints pained him, Eitrigg rose and descended to the floor of the arena, speaking as he went. “It was. How many blows did you receive? How many did Cairne deal? Many. And yet he fell so quickly from just one.”

“It was a good blow,” Garrosh said, his voice sounding petulant in his own ears. Had it been? It had been right across the chest. Hadn’t it? The bloodlust hazed everything—

“No.” Eitrigg spoke bluntly. “It was a long but shallow cut. And yet he did not defend himself when the death strike came.” By now Eitrigg stood beside him. “Do you not think that odd? I certainly did. And I am not alone in my observation. Cairne died far too quickly, Garrosh, and if you didn’t notice it, others did. Others like me, and Vol’jin, who came to me just a short while ago. Others who wonder how it is that such a fine warrior fell with just a glancing blow.”

Garrosh was starting to grow angry. “Out with it!” he growled. “What are you trying to say? Are you saying I did not win this fight fairly? Would I have let him give me these wounds had I been attempting to cheat?”

“No. I do not think you fought dishonorably. But I believe someone did.” Eitrigg extended a gnarled finger and pointed at Gorehowl. “You received a shamanic blessing with sacred oil on your blade.”

“So did Cairne. So does everyone who chooses to fight in the mak’gora,” Garrosh said. “It’s part of it. That is not dishonorable!” He was starting to raise his voice, and a strange emotion was churning inside him. Was it—fear?

“Look at the color of the oil,” Eitrigg said. “It is black and sticky. No—in the ancestors’ names, do not touch it!”

Most of the blade that had taken Cairne Bloodhoof’s life was coated with dried blood. But in one small spot along the edge, Garrosh could now see a tacky-looking, black substance that did not in any way resemble the golden, glistening oil with which blades were usually anointed.

“Who blessed Gorehowl, Garrosh Hellscream? Who blessed the axe that slew Cairne Bloodhoof?” Eitrigg’s voice held anger, but it was not directed at Garrosh.

A sick feeling twisted Garrosh’s gut. “Magatha Grimtotem,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“It was not your skill in battle that killed your opponent. It was the poison of an evil schemer who sought to destroy an adversary and used you, like a pawn, to do so. Do you know what has happened in Thunder Bluff? While you were out celebrating?”

Garrosh did not want to hear. He stared at the blade, but Eitrigg pressed on.

“Grimtotem assassins have taken over Thunder Bluff, Bloodhoof Village, and other tauren strongholds. The teachers, the powerful shaman, and druids and warriors—all dead. Innocent tauren slaughtered in their sleep. Baine Bloodhoof is missing and is probably dead, too. Blood pours from a peaceful city, because you were too full of pride to notice what was happening literally right in front of your eyes!”

Garrosh had been listening in increasing horror, and now he bellowed, “Enough! Silence, old one!” They stood there staring at one another.

And then something broke in Garrosh. “She robbed me of my honor,” he said quietly. “She took my kill from me. I will never