There was a special kind of concern that comes with knowing something horrible should be somewhere, and finding it absent.
The undead not left to meander the Ghostlands and wreak chaos were gone. A look to the gates of Deathholme in the distance showed them closed and barred. Several Wraiths watched out from atop the walls.
Which meant the Ghostlands had not been reconquered, not in itself a surprise with how Deathholme has authority over the passage to the Plaguelands.
However, the lack of attackers constantly streaming from those gates meant the scourge was up to something. From what my senses told me the ward wall keeping intruders out of Eversong had grown considerably stronger.
Perhaps the amount of magic needed to breach the walls was too much for constant assault, and now the Scourge had decided to muster its forces instead of send them out in waves.
Which was why I had taken a temporary break in my mission to find that out. The bleeding ziggurat was on the way to my destination, and had an objective for me anyway.
"Why arent Scourge forces assaulting Silvermoon?"
The terrified form of one of the darkmages defending the ziggurat bled underneath me, the cooling corpses of his allies littered the chamber we waited in.
I had a knife to his throat, and a few too many draconic teeth showing through my grin.
My whisper was sickeningly sweet."You don't wanna play with us no more?" The Elves werent my people any more, not truly, but I would hate to see them get destroyed by anything other than me.
The mans already pale complexion grew even whiter.
"T-they didn't tell us what was going on, only that they were drawing forces back. We received reinforcements-" About what I had expected then, I readied to push the knife into his throat and move on.
"From Northrend." I stopped. That could be bad news.
"Why?"
He shook his head. "Some political dispute. Lord Dar'Khan Drathir was singled out for allowing an infiltrator to escape with traitors, A servant to the blood-queen, some old rival from before their service to the Scourge has assumed control of Deathholme."
The darkmage smirked. "And the right to conquer and rule Silvermoon in the Lich Kings name."
That was bad news. I pushed the knife into his throat, watching him gurgle as his life drained away.
He stood up a moment later, before taking hold of the crystal floating above us.
As we walked outside I thought on the situation. Northrend was where the worst of the Scourge resided, and if what that man said was true I would need to move quickly.
Darkfallen elves. The closest thing to vampires this world has to offer. Drathir was a problem on his own, but with a San'layn in the picture I was in real danger.
The kind of magic I would need to beat something like that and Dar'Khan at the same time was likely to tear me apart, and to hold back would spell the death of my body, and enslavement.
Unacceptable. I had planned on taking my time, perhaps a few days, but now it was clear I needed this done now.
We departed the Howling Ziggurat with haste.
Eventually we passed the ruins of some dead elf's estate, following a path I knew would lead me to Zul'Aman.
We passed hundreds of dead beings as we made our way to the capital of Amani territory, both unmoving or otherwise.
I had forced the Amani to break their pact to the Scourge, and it seems they retaliated. The mummified remains of dozens of Amani warriors piled the earth alongside their considerably fresher brethren.
The fact not all of the corpses had been risen before we arrived, and that several of the undead nearby seemed determined to kill each other, meant the Amani were still putting up a fight.
With a small application of will over the crystals I was able to raise the corpses we passed, and steal the will from local undead. We kept this process up for the three hour walk to our destination.
By the time we reached the ruins of the Amani village of Zeb'nowa, where the first living Amani I had seen resided, I had gathered around two thousand followers.
I let the trolls salvaging the ruins escape down the road, raising yet more minions as we passed. Zul'Aman was a temple-city, and a walled fortress. It was a city-state, the gathered power of the entire empire.
Still,the Amani had probably been hard pressed to defend themselves, especially as of late.
An army like the one I had raised was a threat to be taken seriously, even if it was all but impossible for the undead they saw to have any success in an assault.
This was far too small to be an attacking army, but its presence meant a possible Scourge march. To the Amani it practically screamed "advance force."
For all they know I had a hundred thousand monsters just behind this menagerie. It was exactly the kind of fear I wanted them to have.
When we reached the walls of the city arrows already rained from the sky, and I could see several magic users readying themselves.
It was quite the fortress, with walls over ten feet in height, somewhat resembling human design, and natural defences in the form of several steep rocky hills intermingled with the walls.
I charged the undead in front of me with fully half of the collected energies within one of the crystals, powering them as much as I could without causing them to combust.
I had the undead charge ahead of us, before I had my group conceal themselves in the treeline.
I focused the assualt on a relatively small section of the wall, gathering as much focus as I could on one point. I turned to my slaves, forcing myself back into the form of a drake.
We stalked along the edges of view, traveling around the wall and to a tower where the corner of the walls sorrounding the city could be seen.
"Wait until my signal." I called out, as my deceptively agile form bounded through the darkness, keeping myself low as I charged across the field.
I relied on the muted green of my scales to keep me from the distracted view of the trolls manning the walls.
When I was close enough I lept outward, flapping my wings once to help me gain distance.
I snarled as the wounds on them reopened.
My claws sank easily into the stone, the sound just barely audible beneath the din of combat.
