Traps and curses

"Lady Windrunner! They're attacking again!"

On the elves' battle line in the eastern forest, an elven ranger rushed into the command post behind the lines, panting as he delivered his report.

"Damn trolls!"

The ranger-general, Sylvanas Windrunner, had been trying to deduce the trolls' precise intentions and possible routes of attack. She immediately snatched up her longbow and hurried to the front.

"Farstriders, in the name of sunlight, hold the line!"

The elven rangers were firing at the trolls trying to break through their lines, but the trolls relied on their powerful regeneration, pressing forward behind battered wooden shields to close with the rangers and fight hand to hand.

The elves' position was actually an outpost the Farstrider rangers had established here. Apart from basic barricades, there were no high walls to defend, and even the Mana Crystals needed to sustain the magic barrier were in short supply.

This meant they could not keep the magic barrier active at all times. They had to save it for critical moments.

With all these factors working against her, Sylvanas had no idea how long her fifteen hundred troops could hold this position. She could only hope the promised reinforcements would arrive sooner. Otherwise, they would be forced to retreat inside the grand barrier, a disgrace the Farstriders had not suffered in a thousand years.

There were also more trolls than the scouts had initially reported. Sylvanas estimated that their numbers might already have reached eight thousand, and that figure was still rising.

Even Sylvanas, who had fought trolls for years, found this baffling. Had these trolls gone mad? They had assembled an army that might number ten thousand, only to leave dozens or hundreds of corpses before the lines each day and then withdraw?

Despite her years of fighting them, she could make no sense of it. There was simply too little information to analyze, so Sylvanas could only put her questions aside. For now, she had to focus on the battle.

With practiced ease, Sylvanas drew an arrow from her quiver, nocked it, and loosed a precise, devastating shot that pierced both the shield and the head of a troll near the front.

Drawing on her refined skill, the ranger-general effortlessly picked off trolls who came too close and threatened the line.

Just then, a cry of pain reached Sylvanas's ears. Her pointed ears twitched, and she turned her gaze toward the sound. A spear hurled by a dying troll had slashed an elven ranger's right arm, leaving him temporarily unable to shoot.

Another ranger quickly took his place, while his comrades brought the wounded ranger to the rear for treatment and to check whether he had been afflicted with the trolls' voodoo.

After this brief incident, Sylvanas's keen eyes spotted a hunched figure in the distant glow of sunset, wearing a bizarre mask and leaning on a staff.

Sylvanas instinctively drew a specially crafted Spell-Breaking Arrow, nocked it, and took aim. A moment later, however, she abandoned the shot.

A flicker of displeasure crossed her delicate face. The witch doctor was too far away. He was not one of the mindless troll fodder who possessed nothing but brute strength, and at this distance, she could not guarantee a kill with a single shot.

"Come a little closer..." Sylvanas silently calculated the witch doctor's distance as she left the battle line and swiftly, soundlessly leaped into a large tree.

Killing ordinary trolls accomplished little, no matter how many died. It merely reduced the number competing for food. Killing a witch doctor, however, could deal a severe blow to an entire tribe. Over the past few days, Sylvanas had already killed two or three troll witch doctors.

The witch doctor seemed oblivious to the danger, wandering around toward the rear of the battlefield with several trolls. He showed no sign of using voodoo spells. After all, at this distance, the elves' arrows lacked the power to pose any lethal threat to a troll.

But Sylvanas's lethal range far exceeded that of an ordinary ranger!

At last, the witch doctor stepped within the range where Sylvanas could be certain of her shot. The ranger-general's expression was confident and cold as she settled the Spell-Breaking Arrow firmly against her bow.

Whoosh!

With a faint whistle through the air, Sylvanas's arrow slipped through a gap between several troll guards and pierced the witch doctor's mask with perfect accuracy.

The old troll fell at once, and his strange wooden mask struck the ground and split in two. But when Sylvanas saw the face beneath it, she immediately realized something was wrong.

Those facial markings were only found on troll slaves?

This was no witch doctor. He was bait!

"You fell for it, pointy-ears."

An eerie laugh flickered past Sylvanas's ear. Her expression changed, and she swiftly returned to the battle line. At the same time, she felt as though someone had seized her heart and squeezed it hard. Agony spread through her limbs, and even standing required tremendous willpower.

She understood at once. The trolls had laid this bait specifically for her. They had even deliberately sent out several witch doctors over the preceding days for her to kill, all to make her lower her guard!

Troll voodoo was extraordinarily sinister. Several powerful witch doctors must have placed curses on that troll slave. The magical accessory against Sylvanas's chest resisted some of them, then shattered in an instant, its glow extinguished.

Weakness swept through her body, and cold sweat covered Sylvanas's forehead. The trolls' halfhearted attacks over the past few days had made her forget just how cunning and vicious they were. Relying on the Magic Pendant made by an archmage of Silvermoon City, she had completely disregarded the possible risks of killing a witch doctor.

It was a fatal mistake.

At the cost of several hundred troll corpses and the lives of several witch doctors, the trolls had succeeded in gravely wounding the elves' ranger-general.

The moment Sylvanas was struck, troll war drums sounded from the forest. Countless troll warriors surged out, forming a dark green tide that swept toward the battle line.

"Hold the line!" Sylvanas ordered through gritted teeth, immediately activating the outpost's magic barrier. It could withstand the trolls' assault, but against their frenzied attacks, the remaining Mana Crystals would not last more than a few hours.

The rangers' arrows rained down into the troll army, piercing countless frenzied trolls. Yet these fearless creatures trampled over the bodies of their own kin and continued their furious charge.

Supported by two guards, Sylvanas left the front line. Once she returned to the command tent, pain twisted her face, and dense black markings appeared across her fair neck.

The elven priests hurried over to treat her, but their Dispel spells could not remove the curses afflicting her. That power was stronger than any voodoo they had ever encountered.

One priest could only use the holy light to suppress Sylvanas's pain. Only then did Windrunner's expression ease a little. "Thank you. I feel much better."

"Lady Windrunner," the elven priest said, his expression deeply grave, "this curse is beyond my abilities. I cannot dispel it. I can only use the holy light to suppress your pain temporarily."

"At least I can keep fighting now." Sylvanas still wanted to pick up her longbow and return to battle.

"No, my lady. Using your own power will make the curse spread faster. I recommend returning to Silvermoon City immediately for treatment by an archmage or a high priest," the elven priest said solemnly. "Fighting now would be suicide."

"But the Farstriders are still fighting bravely! How could I retreat before them?" Sylvanas's unyielding stance left her subordinates in a difficult position.

They all knew that once the trolls broke through the magic barrier, the outpost's fall would only be a matter of time. The question was no longer whether to fight, but how to withdraw.

Although the trolls could not bypass their position and set an ambush directly along their retreat route, they moved through the woods no slower than the elves.

If they were caught, the rangers' melee skills, weak compared with their ranged prowess, would leave them suffering heavy casualties in close combat.

Sylvanas understood this perfectly. Just as uncertainty flickered across her face, a low horn blast reached the command tent.

"What is that sound?" The elves all had keen hearing. Even amid the deafening cries of battle outside, they could still distinguish that unique horn call.

Sylvanas's eyes lit up. "That's Lordaeron's War Horn! Our reinforcements are here!"

She had actually given up hope of receiving aid long ago and had nearly spoken the order to retreat just moments before. But now, the situation had taken another turn!