The Spiral Path

by Greg Weisman

  Then orcs come. Orcs enter canyon behind Alliance. Orcs fight Alliance soldiers from behind. Orcs kill humans, kill dwarves. Alliance soldiers turn from Throgg to fight orcs. Now Throgg kill Alliance soldiers from behind. Finally, Alliance soldiers all dead like Mahrook warriors. Orcs and Throgg meet in middle. Meet over bodies of Alliance and Mahrook. Throgg see orcs. Throgg see orcs only have one hand.

  These orcs Shattered Hand. Not many Shattered Hand left in Azeroth. Not many Shattered Hand orcs left. No Mahrook ogres left. Throgg see Shattered Hand orcs are great warriors. Shattered Hand orcs see Throgg is great warrior.

  Shattered Hand orc Teremok look around at dead. Shattered Hand orc Teremok nod head at Throgg. Teremok say, “This ogre’s a fighter. Strongest of his clan.”

  Mahrook warrior Throgg nod at Teremok and say, “Throgg strongest of all.”

  Teremok say, “The Shattered Hand could use an ogre like you, Throgg. Join us. Join us few. We band of brothers. Become Shattered Hand, and you become our brother.”

  Throgg look down at Thrull. Thrull was Throgg’s brother. But humans kill Thrull. Thrull dead now. All Mahrook dead now. Throgg no got brothers left. Throgg say, “Throgg need brothers. Throgg join Shattered Hand.”

  Teremok nod. Teremok cut off Throgg’s hand with axe. Good hand. But gone now. Throgg only got one hand now. Throgg is Shattered Hand now.

  Shattered Hand blacksmith Ulmok put metal stump on Throgg where no hand is now. Give Throgg quiver with many weapons. Show Throgg how to screw weapons onto metal stump. Now Throgg have one hand and one weapon all the time. Different weapons, too. If Throgg bored with mace, Throgg screw on pike. If Throgg bored with pike, Throgg screw on axe. Throgg no miss old hand too much. Not too much.

  Throgg fight Alliance with Shattered Hand orcs. Throgg kill many Alliance soldiers with Shattered Hand. Then Ulmok killed by Alliance elf. Ulmok was Throgg’s friend in Shattered Hand. Ulmok was Throgg’s brother. Throgg kill elf. Throgg miss Ulmok.

  But Throgg still fight with Shattered Hand orcs. Throgg kill many Alliance soldiers with Shattered Hand. Then Teremok killed by humans. Take five humans to kill Teremok. Teremok was Throgg’s friend in Shattered Hand. Teremok was Throgg’s brother. Throgg kill five humans. Throgg miss Teremok.

  Now Throgg look around Shattered Hand. All orcs and Throgg. Teremok dead. Ulmok dead. Throgg have no friends in Shattered Hand. Orcs no like Throgg. Throgg too strong. Throgg too good a warrior. Orcs treat Throgg bad. But Throgg swear oath to Teremok and Shattered Hand. Throgg think Throgg Shattered Hand for life. But Shattered Hand not Throgg’s brothers anymore.

  Shattered Hand work with Hidden to find stupid compass. Work with Hidden to find Greydon Thorne. Throgg meet Malus. Throgg watch Malus. Throgg see Malus is strong. Throgg see Malus is great warrior for Hidden. Malus watch Throgg. Malus see Throgg strong. Malus see Throgg is great warrior for Shattered Hand. Malus see Shattered Hand orcs no treat Throgg like brother. Malus say, “Throgg, I’m leaving tomorrow. You should come with me.”

  Throgg say, “Throgg swear oath to Shattered Hand. Throgg no leave.”

  Malus say, “Nothing would make you forswear your oath?”

  Throgg say, “Nothing.”

  Malus say, “Nothing, ever?”

  Throgg say, “Nothing. Never.”

  Malus nod at Throgg. Malus no say anything else to Throgg.

  But Malus talk to Garamok. Garamok not strong as Throgg. Garamok not brother to Throgg. Malus ask, “Does Garamok want an ogre among the Shattered Hand orcs?”

  Garamok say, “No. No ogre can ever be true Shattered Hand.”

  Throgg burn inside when Throgg hear what Garamok say.

  Malus say, “Release Throgg from his oath. I’ll take him with me.”

  Garamok shrug. Garamok say, “No, human. Throgg’s good for carrying supplies on his back.”

  Malus say, “I’ll pay you twenty silver pieces if you release him.”

  Garamok shrug. Garamok say, “No, human.”

  Malus say, “Thirty.”

  Garamok shrug. Garamok say, “Yeah. Good.”

  Garamok release Throgg from Throgg’s oath for thirty pieces of silver.

  Malus say, “Throgg, now will you join me? Will you join the Hidden?”

  Throgg say nothing.

  Malus say, “Will you swear an oath to the Hidden? Will you make all the Hidden your brothers and sisters?”

  Throgg say nothing. Throgg think and remember. Thrull dead. Teremok dead. Ulmok dead. Throgg no have brothers. No ogre brothers. No orc brothers. Throgg say, “Throgg swear oath to Hidden. Throgg be Malus’s brother.”

  Malus still Throgg’s brother. But Throgg no like what Malus do to Gordunni ogres. Throgg know Karrga no like, either. Karrga no like that Malus force all ogres from home in Dire Maul. Karrga no like that human is new Gordok.

  Throgg think Karrga like Throgg. Throgg want to make Karrga happy. Throgg want to fight by Karrga’s side. Throgg want to fight for Karrga. Throgg like Karrga but no want to be Karrga’s brother. Throgg want … more.

  But Malus still Throgg’s brother. And Throgg swore oath to Malus and Hidden. So Throgg follow Malus’s orders.

  Makasa glanced at Aram, who was sealed beneath the carapace of the speedboat, safely out of sight as he took his first spin around the Speedbarge with Gazlowe and Sprysprocket watching.

  So Makasa turned back to the matter at hand. With Drella’s help, getting details from Murky wasn’t difficult. Murky, Hackle, and Drella had been taking their stroll when Hackle had spotted ogres docking a Grimtotem boat.

  Drella had said, “I do not believe I have ever seen an ogre in person. Let us go say hello.”

  Instead, Hackle had grabbed Murky and dove into the lake so that neither of them would be spotted.

  The ogres—five of them, including Throgg (or as Murky called him, DRRRugg)—had walked right past Drella. She had even introduced herself. She said they stared at her pleasantly but said nothing and walked on.

  Hackle and Murky had resurfaced. Hackle told Drella and Murky to return to Makasa. Then the gnoll had followed the ogres, keeping his distance, keeping out of sight.

  With a wave from the leper gnome, Aram went around again. Before he could go around a third time, Hackle returned with Daisy and Hotfix.

  Now, the ogres were in the tavern, searching for Aram and his friends, questioning everyone—at the point of a sword. So far, no one had spilled. Gnomes and humans weren’t likely to cooperate with ogres, and goblins preferred payoffs to threats.

  “But I’m afraid it’s only a matter of time,” Daisy said with a resigned smile.

  Just then, Aram passed again in the boat. Gazlowe hooted loudly and held up his pocket watch, shouting, “That’s eight laps in fourteen minutes! And the boy barely knows what he’s doin’!”

  Makasa and Daisy conferred with the goblin. Daisy finished with, “We’ll have to find them new accommodations.”

  “We have to get off this barge,” Makasa insisted.

  Gazlowe eyed Makasa. “Why are ogres huntin’ you?”

  “Does it matter? They’re ogres. If they catch us, they’ll kill us.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? All right, fine. But you don’t gotta go far. We’ll put you up on my yacht. And we’ll keep alla you under wraps.”

  “Wait,” Makasa said incredulously. “Do you think we’re staying?”

  “You gotta stay. The kid and I have a deal.”

  “His name is Aramar, and the deal’s off.”

  “Is it, now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t think so, girl. Leave before the race and you can forget salvagin’ your father’s whatever-it-is. Don’t know if you’re okay with that, but I doubt the boy will be.”

  Makasa glowered but said nothing.

  Gazlowe put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I like the kid. We’ll be careful. I promise.”

  He sounded sincere, but Makasa knew his sincerity had its limits. Gazlowe might legitimately like Aram—but no
t enough to value her brother’s life over his racing profits. And as far as she could tell, the goblin still couldn’t remember Aramar’s name.

  After eight more laps, Thorne was coming around again. Gazlowe was still talking to Daisy and the tall woman, so Sprocket was timing the run. Thirteen minutes and thirty-four seconds.

  This just might work.

  So began their new routine.

  They never went back to the tavern or the inn, which turned out to have been a wise choice. Daisy and Hotfix rowed out in Rendow’s boat to let them know that the ogres had found a drunken goblin who didn’t mind telling them that two humans, a gnoll, and a murloc matching their descriptions had been at the tavern the night before. The sloshed goblin also told the ogres that the four fugitives had a dryad with them, meaning Drella wasn’t safe on the Speedbarge, either. The ogres came to the inn and demanded to be taken to Aram’s room. Daisy complied—there was no reason not to—and then tried to convince them that Aram and his friends had only stayed one night and had then taken a boat to New Thalanaar the next morning. She thought that might get the ogres to leave the barge while sending them off in the wrong direction. But she feared now she had overplayed her hand, because the ogres had not left, had clearly not believed her.

  “If I had told them Gadgetzan, they might have been convinced. They seem to know you’re headed that way.”

  The five travelers took up residence on Gazlowe’s yacht, which he kept anchored a few hundred feet from the Speedbarge. They shared a single large cabin and largely kept off the deck so that they couldn’t be spotted from the barge. This made all of them—but especially Makasa—fairly stir-crazy, but there was no remedy for it.

  Sprocket was also on the yacht, and every morning, just before dawn, he would put Aram in the Steamwhistle and watch through a telescopic attachment on his containment suit as the boy raced the course. Over and over and over.

  Inside the speedboat, Aram would lower himself into the seat, which was halfway below the waterline. The seat had a double-belt that he fastened crisscross over his chest. It reminded him of how Makasa wore her chain, and it made him feel a little like a warrior. As did the helmet Sprocket had given him to wear. “Why do I need this?” Aram had asked.

  “In case you crash,” Sprocket answered.

  “I’m on the water. If I crash, I get wet. I suppose I might drown, but how does a helmet help with that?”

  Sprocket stared at him and said, “You’re a simpleton, Thorne. Put on the helmet.”

  “You know, it’s all right to call me Aram.”

  “That’s two syllables. Thorne is only one. It’s more efficient.”

  “So Aramar is out, then?”

  Sprocket ignored him.

  Having settled in, Aram would pump a lever until the engine caught and turned over. When it had worked up a head of steam, he’d pull another lever, and the carapace would lower down over his head. When it was nearly shut, he’d pull down hard on a handle until the carapace click-locked into place, sealing him in.

  There was a long, slim slot in the carapace that allowed him to see out but wasn’t wide enough for anyone to see him inside the boat from even the smallest distance. So Aram could safely run the course within a few yards of the Speedbarge without any risk of being spotted by Throgg and his very large friends.

  Next, Aram would push up on another handle, which Sprocket called a throttle. True to its name, the Steamwhistle would whistle steam as the boat began to accelerate. There was a wheel for steering, smaller than but not unlike the wheel of the Wavestrider, which helmsman Thom Frakes had taught him to use. But because Steamwhistle was smaller and sleeker, it was much more sensitive to the wheel’s spin. One of the first things Aram had to learn was not to oversteer.

  Then came the course, which circled Fizzle and Pozzik’s Speedbarge: there were two straightaways to the north and south, and two slaloms between pylons on the eastern and western sides. Aram began to understand why Sprocket had wanted the pilot job so badly. This is so much fun!

  The boat flew across the water like a skipping stone. The speed was intoxicating. The fact that Aram controlled the craft’s slightest movement was intoxicating. Swishing back and forth between the pylons was intoxicating. He absolutely, positively loved this.

  Every night, they all ate together: Aramar, Makasa, Hackle, Murky, Drella, Gazlowe, and Sprocket. (Daisy and Hotfix stayed away, because the ogres—suspicious of her lie—had begun to follow her. Fortunately, the creatures were too big to make a subtle job of it, so they were an easy tail to spot.)

  Gazlowe liked to eat well, so his guests ate well, too. Meals on the yacht were something akin to a feast. There was roast turkey and roast pork. There was raw fish for Murky, and plenty of fruits and vegetables for Drella. Once served, the dryad would pick up her plate and move as far from the leper gnome as she could. Yet throughout the meal, she would periodically start to inch toward Sprocket—then seem to lose her nerve and move away again.

  Gazlowe also had a sweet tooth; thus, there was always a whole selection of individual pastries, pies, and cakes for dessert.

  On the third night, Gazlowe finished his Dalaran brownie and asked Aram how it was going.

  Aram, who had just stuffed an entire bloodberry turnover into his mouth, swallowed and answered, “Great! I think I’ve really got the feel of the Steamwhistle now.”

  Gazlowe shot a glance at Sprocket, who somewhat begrudgingly nodded confirmation before using a mechanical arm to open a panel in his suit’s metal chest. He inserted a plum cake and closed the panel. Then through the suit’s glass helmet, Aram could see Sprocket’s actual gnomish hands feeding his face.

  Gazlowe turned back to Aram and said, “And you’re learnin’ the course?”

  “Better each time.” By the end of the first day, Aram had reduced his time to thirteen minutes and three seconds. By the end of the second day, after nearly one hundred trips around the raceway, he’d gotten it down to twelve minutes even. By the end of the third, eleven minutes thirty-two. A potentially winning time. “I think by race day, I can get under eleven.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Gazlowe said. “Now, tomorrow … I want you to slow down.”

  “What?”

  “There are a lotta folks watchin’ you practice.”

  “I know. But the ogres can’t see me inside the boat.”

  “I’m not worryin’ ’bout ogres.”

  Makasa shot him an angry look.

  Gazlowe said, “I mean, I’m not talkin’ ’bout ogres. I’m talkin’ ’bout my competitors and fellow gamblers. Keep gettin’ the feel of the boat and the course, but let’s not give away just how good you think you can be. Hold back now, just a bit. We want to surprise ’em all when it counts.”

  Aram nodded, though he was somewhat unsure he’d be able to exercise that much discipline. He liked pushing his time.

  Aram took his sketchbook out to continue work on a memory sketch of the goblin and the leper gnome arguing over who would pilot the Steamwhistle, which was visible in the background. Aram had chosen to depict the moment when Daisy intervened between sponsor and engineer, because, well … because he just liked drawing Daisy. And he had stuck little Hotfix in there, too, off to the side. For no good reason, he had drawn Hotfix playing his fiddle, even though the little yellowish-green goblin hadn’t even had his fiddle with him at the time. But Aram liked that he was feeling freer and more imaginative with his sketches. Drawing from memory had become easier, too. Yes, he’d glance up at Sprocket and Gazlowe now and again, and he also referred to the sketch of Daisy and Hotfix he’d already completed. (It was definitely helpful having the reference and two of the subjects currently before him.) For the most part, however, he just drew what he remembered and what he was feeling.

  “One more thing,” Gazlowe said. “Tomorrow night …” He hesitated and snuck a glance at Makasa.

  “What?” she said darkly.

  “Tomorrow night, our pilot needs to board the Speedbarge to off
icially register for the event.”

  “You do it,” Makasa said. “He’s not going anywhere near that barge. And, yes, I am worrying about the ogres.”

  “Sprocket and I are goin’, but the boy has to come, too, or we’re disqualified. But it’s routine, and I got just the thing. A hooded cloak I, uh, liberated from an actual member of SI:7. So it’s a real spy cloak. Perfect for the job.” And before Makasa could object again, he added, “We’ll be in and out.”

  “Then I’m going with,” she said.

  “I don’t got two cloaks,” he said. “And trust me, girl, you do not walk about unnoticed. In fact, you cut quite the figure wherever you go. So you stay behind, or you put the boy at greater risk.”

  “His. Name. Is. Aramar.”

  “Right, right. I know that.”

  “Say it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “So I know you know he’s a real person. So I know you care enough about him to at least learn his blasted name.”

  Gazlowe straightened and stood. He then leaned over the table to look Makasa straight in the eye. He said, “My pilot is Aramar Thorne. And the truth is, I’m kinda fond of the ki—of Aram. I won’t let nothin’ happen to him on the barge. You got my word.”

  Makasa considered for a moment what the word of a goblin was truly worth. Then she nodded, satisfied. Satisfied that Gazlowe would make blasted sure nothing happened to Aram … at least, not before the race was run.

  Gazlowe and Sprocket, towing the Steamwhistle behind them, took Aram over to the Speedbarge in a rowboat.

  Having docked, Aram tried to stand but stepped on the hooded cloak he was wearing and nearly knocked his brains out against a mooring post. The cloak was made for someone a good foot taller than Aram, and, worse, it reminded him of the Whisper-Man’s cloak. He kept imagining he could smell Valdread’s jasmine water saturating the fabric.