Spirit of the Eagle (Part Two)

Shane changed direction and headed for the altar where the dragonhawk had once been trapped, casually destroying two troll camps along the way. The high-ranking troll spellcasters were nowhere to be seen, leaving Shane free to wreak havoc. The strongest caster he encountered was an old troll who had survived even after the flames faded.

"Why?"

"Knowledge," Shane answered in Trollish. Elves and trolls needed no reason to slaughter one another. It was a process of civilization eliminating savagery, of order cleansing chaos. As for his own reason, he wanted the trolls' knowledge of communicating with other dimensions.

The old troll froze for a moment, then became very calm, ready to face its fate. Its skin was shriveled and its hair sparse, but time had given it wise eyes. Unlike most trolls, who were busy surviving, it had clearly contemplated other things. Merely withstanding a Pyroblast was not enough; Shane could sense that its airway had been burned. Speaking was already its limit. There was no need to do anything—it did not have many days left to live.

"Has the Amani inheritance truly been severed? Was that why the masters of Silvermoon City were so certain, deploying only a few mages at the front?" Shane recalled the attitude of his mentor and the council. It could be summed up as: They took it seriously, but they were not in much of a hurry. Probe first, then see.

After leaving the troll camp, night fell. Shane had Taigo make camp at the foot of a mountain. The passenger rig on Taigo's back was still there, unchanged from before, complete with its bed and little tea table. Divinity had infected the metal, yet preserved this structure. It was incredible. What exactly was divinity's instinct? There were only guesses, no definite answer.

Even in the wilderness, his evening practice continued as usual. Three sets of mana orbs revolved, altered to work with Pyroblast and simulate the movement of the solar system. There were ten orbs in all, the brightest source of light beneath the night sky aside from the moon.

"Someone's approaching?"

The moon had climbed to its highest point. Shane was preparing to extinguish his spell when the Eye of Truth reported several humanoid creatures drawing near.

"Let's take a look?" Shane patted Taigo's head and pointed in a direction. Taigo began walking, its heavy footsteps thudding as though announcing, I'm here.

When he spotted shadows, Shane cast an illumination spell overhead. A white point of light drifted slowly toward them, revealing several figures below.

They were a three-person elven team, and their gear marked them as Farstriders. By the light of Pyroblast, they also saw Shane clearly.

"By the Sunwell, we guessed right—it's an elven spellcaster." They quickened their pace and rushed beneath Taigo's feet. "Mage, a large group of trolls is chasing us from behind. We need to leave!"

"How far away?" Shane asked, while the mana orbs above his head continued to revolve.

The Farstriders looked up and saw that the light source was actually a spell rotating according to some pattern. The white-hot flame at its center made their eyes sting, impossible to look at directly. They did not understand. They understood nothing at all. Yet as elves, they knew well that arcane power meant mystery, mystery meant might, and might meant status.

"My lord, the trolls are two kilometers behind us. They'll be here soon." The three rangers steadied themselves considerably and bowed to Shane.

The trolls had not stopped me, yet they were pursuing these rangers relentlessly? Did they intend to take the easy targets first? As he considered this, Shane spoke to the rangers.

"You can leave first."

But the rangers protested unusually loudly, their tones firm and beyond dispute:

"We are Farstriders. We will not abandon any elf. If you wish to fight, my lord, then we will stand by you to the end."

Shane recognized that pride in them—the same pride that was even more evident in Sylvanas. She had been unwilling to abandon her subordinates even when she stayed behind alone to cover their retreat. It was precisely that pride which would lead to her sacrifice and death in the future.

"Then help me keep the trolls from getting close," Shane said, acknowledging their pride while leaving the rangers room to choose.

In the open wilderness beneath the night sky, Pyroblast was the best beacon. The trolls followed its glow as well, layers upon layers of dark figures advancing, their weapons reflecting the moonlight in cold glints as they howled excitedly.

Trollish cries carried through the night, roughly meaning, "Kill," "sacrifice," and "eat."

But why were they getting slower and slower? Their run became a jog, their jog became a walk.

After waiting a while, the barefoot trolls halted two hundred meters away. There were five spellcasters and two hundred and eleven warriors.

"It can end now." Shane's mind trembled like plucked strings. The nine mana orbs above his head left their orbits first, streaking nine trails of light across the darkness and piercing nine targets. To the naked eye, a row of trolls fell.

Pyroblast launched a little more slowly. Using his mind to propel Pyroblast was not as effortless as controlling the mana orbs. His mental force had accumulated to a considerable degree, like drawing a bow to its fullest before releasing the arrow.

After correcting its trajectory, the fireball flew for some distance and dropped in a parabolic arc. Boom— The ground trembled. The explosion shone brighter than ten moons. The trolls were like leaves amid raging waves, flung in every direction by the shockwave and blasted to pieces. When the firelight faded, a few remnants at the center of the explosion glittered beneath the moonlight.

Apart from the groans of the wounded, the battlefield was strangely silent. Every troll stood motionless.

"Explosive Flame spellcaster—!" A shrill Trollish wail shattered the "silence." They had arrived hesitantly, but fled swiftly and decisively, abandoning their wounded as they scattered like birds and beasts.

"Those on the ground are yours," Shane told the rangers.

"Gulp." The three rangers swallowed. "As you command, my lord."

Looking over the trolls strewn across the ground, Shane had seen such scenes many times already. He found the regression of troll civilization unbelievable. In the epics, trolls had once ruled Azeroth. Since ancient times, their territory had steadily shrunk, until today they were scattered throughout the world, relying on blood sacrifices, fishing, and hunting to survive. Some tribes, like the Amani, were even on the verge of losing their magical inheritance.

There were trolls among the dead who could still be purified. No matter how slight the effect, he could not let them go. Once the absorption was complete, he received another fragment: black wings soaring through the sky—Anqiongnasi, accepting troll blood sacrifices, had only recently been captured. Enraged, it had raised a tornado to destroy every troll. But more than a dozen troll priests had joined forces to trap it.

"The whirlwind will have its revenge!" Its memories were filled with hatred and fury.

The trolls had captured another animal spirit. The three rangers might know something. Shane glanced over and saw that they were finishing off the wounded. It was not the time to talk, so he had Taigo move to another campsite first. The trolls' cowardly reaction amused Shane somewhat. He was a mage specializing in the Conjuration School, yet he had become famous because of Evocation spells.

"My lord, the area has been cleared." The three rangers found Shane's new campsite and bowed respectfully. Troll ears lay beneath Taigo's feet. Shane had no need for them, but he would not commit such a breach of etiquette, so he put the troll ears into his magic pouch.

"Why were the trolls chasing you?"

"We discovered a troll altar to the southeast. There were more people there than we expected. Troll priests were constantly going in and out, so we wanted to find out what they were doing. But we were discovered halfway through our infiltration."

"Can you describe what that altar looked like?"

After the rangers described it, Shane realized he had never been to that altar. "May I see your map?"

"Please, my lord."

The rangers' map bore many new markings, each one noting changes in the terrain and troll settlements. Shane had a map of his own, though it was in his mind. With the Eye of Truth's help, every location he had passed through and its surroundings had been recorded. Thus, the data for all the places he had traveled through appeared in his mind. Comparing it with the rangers' map, he added data for the areas he did not have.

"I'm heading to that altar. Are you coming?"

"In the name of the Farstriders, we are willing to follow you, my lord."