Lord of the Clans by Christie Golden Read Free Book Online Page A

wooden sword flying up with startling speed. He lifted a massive leg and kicked out, striking the attacker full in the chest. The young man went hurtling backward, astonishment plain on his face. He lay on the ground, gasping for air.
    Thrall whirled, anticipating the approach of two others. They came at him with spears. With the sword, he knocked one of them out of the way as easily as if the human had been an annoying insect. With his free hand, for he had no shield, he seized the other man’s spear, yanked it from his grip, and flipped it around so that the sharp blade was facing the man who had, just seconds ago, been wielding the weapon.
    Had this been a real battle, Thrall knew he would have sunk the spear into the man’s body. But this was just practice, and Thrall was in control. He lifted the spear and was about to toss it away when a terrible sound made everyone freeze in his tracks.
    Thrall turned to see a small wagon approaching the fortress on the small, winding road. This happenedmany times each day, and the passengers were always the same: farmers, merchants, new recruits, visiting dignitaries of some sort.
    Not this time.
    This time, the screaming horses pulled a wagon full of monstrous green creatures. They were in a metal cage, and seemed stooped over. Thrall saw that they were chained to the bottom of the wagon. He was filled with horror at their grotesqueness. They were huge, deformed, sported mammoth tusks instead of teeth, had tiny, fierce eyes. . . .
    And then the truth hit him. These were orcs. His so-called people. This was what he looked like to the humans. The practice sword fell from suddenly nerveless fingers. I’m hideous. I’m frightening. I’m a monster. No wonder they hate me so.
    One of the beasts turned and stared Thrall right in the eye. He wanted to look away, but couldn’t. He stared back, hardly breathing. Even as he watched, the orc somehow managed to wrench himself free. With a scream that shattered Thrall’s ears, the creature hurled himself at the cage bars. He reached with hands bloody from the chafing of shackles, gripped the bars, and before Thrall’s shocked eyes bent them wide enough to push his huge bulk through. The wagon was still moving as the frightened horses ran at top speed. The orc hit the ground hard and rolled a few times, but a heartbeat later was up and running toward Thrall and the fighters with a speed that belied his size.
    He opened his terrible mouth and screamed out something that sounded like words: “Kagh! Bin mog g’thazag cha!”
    “Attack, you fools!” cried Sergeant. Unarmored as he was, he seized a sword and began running to meet the orc. The men began to move and rushed to their Sergeant’s aid.
    The orc didn’t even bother to look Sergeant in the face. He swung out with his manacled left hand, caught Sergeant square in the chest, and sent him flying. He came on, implacable. His eyes were fastened on Thrall, and again he shouted the words, “Kagh! Bin mog g’thazag cha!”
    Thrall stirred, finally roused from his fear, but he didn’t know what to do. He raised his practice sword and stood in a defensive posture, but did not advance. This fearfully ugly thing was charging toward him. It was most definitely the enemy. And yet, it was one of his own people, his flesh and blood. An orc, just as Thrall was an orc, and Thrall could not bring himself to attack.
    Even as Thrall stared, the men fell upon the orc and the big green body went down beneath the flash of swords and axes and black armor. Blood seeped out beneath the pile of men, and when at last it was over, they stood back and regarded a pile of green and red flesh where a living creature had once been.
    Sergeant propped himself up on one elbow. “Thrall!” he cried. “Get him back to the cell now! ”
    “What in the name of all that’s holy have you done ?” cried Blackmoore, staring aghast at the sergeant who had come to him so highly recommended, who was now the person