Bovar looked at the cracks in the blade, shocked and furious. He wanted to retreat, because he couldn't bear the cost of losing Frostmourne. The soul-searing pain he'd felt when he first took the Frozen Throne was still etched in his memory. Back then, the combined power of the Helm of Domination, Frostmourne, and the Frozen Throne had been what calmed the unruly Scourge. If he lost Frostmourne now, their turbulent emotions would be enough to drive him to collapse.
But retreating now was easier said than done. The Scourge, Silver Dawn, and Horde were all locked in battle, and he couldn't simply call off the fight. And Fordring, standing opposite him, certainly wasn't going to let him get away. So Bovar ordered Falric and the other two to hold Fordring back, then abandoned the Scourge army and fled alone.
Falric and the others had no choice but to obey Bovar's orders. They charged at Fordring without hesitation, but no minor bosses like them could stand against the wielder of Ashbringer. He stunned all three with Hammer of Judgment, charged in, and killed them with a single swing. The three Death Knights who had killed Darian went off to join their Prince Arthas.
With everyone around them fighting, Bovar couldn't get far. Fordring soon caught up to him, and Bovar had no choice but to turn and face him. But the cracks in Frostmourne held him back, leaving him at a disadvantage. He no longer had the confidence he'd shown at the start, when he'd used Frostmourne to keep Fordring on the defensive.
"Taelan! In the name of the Lich King, I command you! Obey my orders and fight for me!"
Bovar had been as careful as he could, but the cracks in Frostmourne kept growing. His dead heart clenched