On the fortress walls, Arthas leaned on his warhammer and watched the forest nearby, where countless birds had been startled into flight-the Troll forces had reached the woods before the Ban'dinoriel Barrier and were eyeing the elves' territory hungrily.
Preparations inside the fortress were proceeding at a feverish pace, while Arthas held a spyglass, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Trolls' movements.
But the forests surrounding Quel'Thalas were simply too tall and dense. After several minutes of trying, he could make out only a few indistinct Troll figures and glean no useful information at all.
Lowering the spyglass, Arthas abandoned the idea of scouting them himself. He would leave that to the elven scouts.
Just then, Uther approached with a rolled-up intelligence report.
"Arthas, Lady Windrunner's Rangers just brought us word. There are indeed around eight thousand Trolls, mostly ordinary warriors, along with one or two thousand Headhunters. As for spellcasters and Witch Doctors, there are only a handful. Their leader seems to be the chieftain of some tribe."
"Understood, teacher." Arthas took the report and skimmed it. "It looks as though the Trolls merely intend to test us. They aren't holding out much hope."
"Indeed. That certainly fits Zul'jin's way of doing things." Uther knew the prominent figures of the former Orc Horde quite well, and he too believed Zul'jin had sent this force merely to silence the others among the tribes.
"The Trolls have no siege weapons. Those crude spears and throwing axes of theirs can't threaten the fortress's enchanted walls."
Arthas watched the elves set up Mana Crystal mounts along the walls, one after another. Once fitted with Mana Crystals, these mounts would continuously fire low-level arcane bolts at the enemy-essentially magical cannons or ballistae.
"Have the soldiers hold the walls and gates. Leave the rest to the elven Rangers and the Gunners. Don't worry about conserving bullets or gunpowder. Hit them with everything you've got!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
"We'll need the cavalry and Paladins to finish this battle, teacher. I'll leave them under your command. I'll guard the walls in case the Trolls use some strange trick to leap onto them again."
"Very good. We'll do as you suggest." Uther fully approved of Arthas's deployment.
The outcome of this battle was never in doubt. The Troll chieftain came from some obscure little tribe and firmly believed he was here to avenge the priest, unaware that he and his troops were nothing more than sacrifices.
As the battle began, deep within Zul'Aman, Zul'jin faced another round of Malacrass's mockery. "Ha, Zul'jin, is this what you call a hunt? Not only did Halazzi fail to catch the pointy-eared Ranger-General, he got himself killed!"
"And you sent that unlucky little chieftain out with more than eight thousand useless fools, claiming they were going to take revenge. Are you sure you weren't sending them to their deaths?"
Malacrass did not care whether those troops lived or died. They were merely the rejects among the Amani Trolls. Their deaths would conveniently reduce the useless population, and some of their flesh and blood could be recovered as offerings to the gods. He simply wanted to mock Zul'jin.
"Shut up, Malacrass. I'm listening to the Lynx God." Zul'jin rebuked him loudly, then closed his lone eye again.
At Zul'jin's words, Malacrass stopped his taunts-not because he feared Zul'jin, but because they all made certain to show sufficient humility before the loa.
The silence lasted roughly three minutes before Zul'jin suddenly spoke. "There's someone unusual among those humans. The Lynx God saw the same power in him as in Bwonsamdi."
"Bwonsamdi?!"
Shock covered Malacrass's face. Bwonsamdi was the Death God worshipped by the ancient Trolls. Aside from his fondness for making deals, this god's most distinctive trait was his strange and formidable power of death.
He was far more powerful and mysterious than ordinary loa. In ancient times, long before even the Amani Empire, his worship had spread across almost all of Azeroth. Even the Zandalar tribe, the noblest and oldest of all Troll peoples, had followers of Bwonsamdi.
The power represented by the Death God was undoubtedly the power of death, yet even many of Bwonsamdi's priests had never possessed it. After the Zandalari Trolls had spent over ten thousand years isolated from the world, Malacrass had almost forgotten this ancient loa.
Zul'jin knew of Bwonsamdi as well, of course. He stared at Malacrass. "Humans cannot possibly worship the loa. That human cannot have any connection to Bwonsamdi. But even the Lynx God fears his power. We can't send any more priests to hunt him down."
"Why? Halazzi was strong, but his specialties were assassination and hunting. He wasn't as good at fighting head-on as the other priests."
"That human tried to bind part of the Lynx God's soul, and he almost succeeded. We cannot take that risk." Zul'jin told Malacrass the truth.
"If that's the case... at the very least, we can't send any more priests. That could very well harm the gods themselves." Malacrass understood what Zul'jin meant.
"We've already used this war to silence most of the dissent. Whatever the outcome, we've achieved our most basic objective, at least. There's no need to fight the elves to the bitter end."
After bidding the Lynx God farewell, Zul'jin sat down in his stone chair. "We'll leave things as they are for now. The elves are fortunate. We need time to recuperate. Don't provoke any major conflicts for the next few years, at least."
"In ten years at most, the gods will have fully recovered their power, and the priests will be able to wield their divine might in its entirety."
"When that time comes, the Amani Empire will rise again!"
The Hex Lord had no objections. The Amani Trolls had already waited thousands of years; another ten hardly mattered.
The battle at Farstrider Hold lasted an entire day. When the sun set once more and the Twin Moons rose into the night sky, the Trolls fled back into the forest in disarray, carrying the bodies of their fallen kin.
Thunderous cheers erupted along the walls. The Trolls had attacked fearlessly and reached the fortress walls several times, but the allied forces had driven them back each time. At the cost of several hundred casualties, the defenders had inflicted four or five thousand dead and wounded on the Trolls.
Arthas stood on the walls, his armor covered in scratches and blood, yet the Holy Light on his warhammer still shone brilliantly. He gazed in the direction the Trolls had fled, a hint of puzzlement in his expression.
"We've won, Your Highness!" the soldiers of Lordaeron cried excitedly.
Arthas set his doubts aside for the moment. After responding to the soldiers' jubilation, he sought out his teacher, Uther.
"Well done, Arthas." Uther was unstinting in his praise. He thoroughly approved of Arthas's performance during this campaign to aid the elves.
"I only did what I should, teacher. After this defeat, the Trolls probably won't launch another large-scale invasion for several years."
Arthas considered for a moment, then decided to tell Uther what troubled him. "But I think they may be plotting something bigger."
"You mean how those Trolls insisted on taking the bodies of the others back, regardless of the casualties?"
"Yes. Trolls don't make a habit of recovering their comrades' bodies on the battlefield, especially when they clearly belong to different tribes. Yet they suffered even greater casualties just to take some of those bodies away."
"What do you think they wanted them for?" Uther asked.
"A sacrifice-most likely a grand ritual to help their gods recover their power more quickly." Arthas left something else unsaid: the Soul Sight granted by his power of death allowed him to see the dead Trolls' souls gathering deep within the Primeval Forest.
All the casualties this war had inflicted on the Trolls would become nourishment for their gods, so the price they had paid was not as great as it seemed.
Arthas knew that the Amani Trolls might very well emerge to wreak havoc again within ten years. When that happened, it would not be a minor affair like this one. Both Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron could face a grave threat.
Still, this had at least bought Lordaeron ten years of breathing room. Had the elven Farstriders and Sylvanas all died in this battle, the southern forests of Quel'Thalas would never have known peace, and neighboring Lordaeron would certainly have suffered as well.
"Those bloody, barbaric Troll rituals will face justice sooner or later," Uther said gravely. No human with any normal sense of morality would have much affection for Trolls, let alone a Paladin devoted to compassion and justice.
"That day will come, teacher. But for now, we can enjoy our victory."
"You're right. I'll give His Majesty Terenas a full account of your important contributions to this battle. I'm sure your father will be pleased."
As the two Paladins spoke, one of the two Archmages accompanying the army approached Uther. He took out a Magical Dossier and handed it to him.
Uther read it and nodded. "The mages have already sent His Majesty Terenas word of our victory. He has ordered us to rest in Quel'Thalas for three days before returning to Lordaeron."
"That's good news. I happen to have a victory banquet hosted by Lady Windrunner to attend."
Uther paused in surprise. "When did she invite you?"
"Yesterday, after I brought back that Troll priest's head," Arthas replied. "Would you like to come along, teacher?"
"No, I don't much care for banquets." Uther seemed to recall something and declined the invitation.
Arthas was not surprised. Uther seldom attended even the banquets of human nobles. Apart from invitations from his colleagues in the Silver Hand and Arthas himself, he rarely appeared at such gatherings. This Grand Knight preferred to hone his Holy Light alone.
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