Zul'Aman

Deep within the dark, primeval reaches of the Eastern Forest, a vast Troll army had gathered at the site of Zul'Aman, the abandoned capital of the Amani Empire.

"At last, we've returned. Zul'Aman..."

The one-eyed, one-armed Troll stood before the army, almost reverently stroking the moss-covered stone steps outside Zul'Aman's gates.

While the old Troll was still lost in melancholy, a younger Troll radiating formidable power walked up behind him. "Zul'jin, the pointy-ears' ranger-general has taken the bait."

The cloudiness in Zul'jin's remaining eye vanished in an instant, replaced by vicious cruelty. "Oh, has she, Malacrass? Now that's good news."

He rubbed the short stump of his left arm. "The humiliation they inflicted on me back then will soon be repaid twice over."

"Hmph. We lost three Witch Doctors to land this big fish." Hex Lord Malacrass sounded displeased. If Zul'jin's standing among the Trolls had not been so high, he would never have taken orders from this failure.

"Heh. We have plenty of Witch Doctors. How many ranger-generals do the elves have? Without the Farstriders, who can stand against us?"

Zul'jin was unconcerned about the price they had paid. They were merely Witch Doctors from a few minor tribes. He had already made ornaments of the heads of their dissenting chieftains. Who was left to support those Witch Doctors?

Killing or capturing Sylvanas Windrunner and wiping out the elves' ranger forces were Zul'jin's goals. What did a few small sacrifices matter?

As the two spoke, a Troll scout ran over. "Lord Zul'jin, Lord Malacrass, reinforcements have arrived for the pointy-ears. They're humans."

"Humans?" Malacrass scoffed. "Nothing but pigs stuffed into tin barrels."

"We can't underestimate them, Malacrass." Zul'jin frowned. "Most of the Horde's failures were those fools' own fault, but we can't overlook the part the humans played."

Having served as a guide for the Orcs during the Second War, Zul'jin had gained a keen understanding of humanity's current strength. They were no longer as feeble as they had been thousands of years ago.

"The elves live inside their ridiculous barrier, convinced they have nothing to fear. Thousands of years of comfort and extravagance have seeped into their bones. They are no longer the elves who fought with their backs to the wall during the Troll Wars."

After hearing the scout's report, Zul'jin turned to Malacrass. "The loa have yet to awaken. We need a grand sacrifice to restore the Amani Empire to its former glory. Windrunner and her rangers are only the first step."

"You give those humans too much credit," Malacrass argued.

"Too much credit? No, I never have. But after enduring the Orc invasion, humans understand danger better than the elves do. At least for the past dozen years or so, the elves have been easier to deal with."

Zul'jin's voice suddenly rose.

"But their lives are much shorter than the elves', or ours. Before long, they'll naturally become as weak as they once were. That will be our true opportunity. What we're doing now is merely a small step toward reviving our empire."

Zul'jin was a brutal leader, but he was also exceptionally shrewd and cunning. A true hunter never struck when his prey was strongest. He wore it down relentlessly, waiting until its fangs and claws had dulled and its body had weakened before delivering the killing blow.

Though Malacrass disliked Zul'jin, he knew he was right. He set aside his displeasure for the moment. "Very well, Zul'jin. Perhaps you're right. But what do we do next?"

"The human reinforcements are bound to include those glowing Priests and Paladins. Once they discover they can't handle the curse, Sylvanas will have no choice but to retreat."

Zul'jin picked up the fist blade he had set on a rock and flexed his powerful right hand. "Send scouts to keep a close watch on their rear. The moment they begin retreating, have the army advance and break through that outpost's barrier as quickly as possible."

"What if Sylvanas retreats alone?"

A savage gleam flashed in Zul'jin's lone eye. "That's why Halazzi will go with the scouts."

"After that, the hunt begins."

"What? You want to use Lady Windrunner as bait?" Lor'themar's opposition was unequivocal. "That's far too dangerous. Who knows whether the Trolls have troops waiting in ambush along our retreat route?"

"Lor'themar, relax. I'll be accompanying her, along with my knights." Arthas had expected this reaction. After all, the Trolls had almost certainly posted scouts behind them, perhaps even small ambush parties, waiting for a chance to catch Sylvanas separated from the main force.

But compared with the risk of withdrawing the entire force outright, only to be spotted by scouts and pursued by the Troll army, drawing out those scouts first was far safer.

Sylvanas stared at Arthas, her thoughts unreadable. After a long pause, she stopped Lor'themar from protesting further and asked Arthas, "You said you can deal with the curse?"

"Yes, but not yet. Otherwise, the Trolls will surely notice. Then they'll attack our position with everything they have. Outnumbered ten to one, we can't possibly hold this single outpost. We wouldn't even have a chance to retreat."

"We have to get the troops ready to withdraw first, then act as though we haven't noticed the Trolls' intentions and are simply escorting Lady Windrunner away."

"Their scouts and assassins certainly won't just watch us leave. Once we've drawn them out and dealt with them, we can buy time for the troops to withdraw safely."

"But how can you guarantee her safety?" Lor'themar asked indignantly.

"Lor'themar, I'm a Paladin. No one understands how to protect others better than we do. I'll also be taking the Secret Council Knights with us as we withdraw. I'm confident there won't be any major threats to her safety, but we are acting as bait. There's no way to eliminate every risk."

"Enough, Lor'themar. Under the circumstances, do we have a better plan?" Sylvanas waved a hand. "Besides, my condition isn't that bad yet. I'm not entirely incapable of defending myself."

Lor'themar fell silent. Arthas's plan truly was their best chance of minimizing the risks under the circumstances. Besides, Arthas was a prince himself, yet he would be accompanying Sylvanas. There was little more Lor'themar could say.

It was simply that, as a member of the Farstriders and the ranger-general's second-in-command, he was more concerned about his commander's safety.

Arthas understood how he felt. But Silvermoon City had not sent a single person. The two Archmages he had brought could not possibly teleport everyone away on their own. Only by cutting off the Trolls' eyes and ears would they have a chance to retreat safely.

"Also, we'd best bury the remaining Mana Crystals throughout the position. My mages will turn them into a batch of Mana Bombs. That should buy us some time as well."

Both Sylvanas and Lor'themar looked bitter at that. After all, humans had learned all their magic from the High Elves. Now they actually had to rely on human mages to cover their retreat. It was utterly humiliating!

If Silvermoon City had sent even a single squad of Battle Mages, Sylvanas could have led the Farstriders in and out right under the Trolls' noses whenever she pleased.

But they did not have a single mage of their own here, and Lordaeron's Archmages were unfamiliar with the Ley Lines of Quel'Thalas. They could not swiftly evacuate the troops.

Her anger at the useless members of the Silvermoon Council, who knew nothing but pleasure, climbed another notch. Without Lordaeron's support, she and the Farstrider rangers would very likely have been captured by the Trolls and offered up as sacrifices.

Only after settling matters with the elves did Arthas relax a little. Fortunately, Sylvanas and Lor'themar were in command. Given the pride ingrained in the elves, if any other High Elf commander had been leading them, Arthas would now have been considering withdrawing on his own.

After he explained the situation to his teacher, Uther also voiced his agreement. "For now, this is our only option. I'll command the troops following behind and carry out your plan."

Uther thumped his gauntleted fist against Arthas's breastplate with a clear clang. "Stay safe, my student. May the Holy Light be with you."

"May the Holy Light be with you, teacher." Arthas left with a smile to make his preparations before setting out.