CHAPTER 8
While Varimathras was exiled and Sylvanas was recovering her leg, what none of them noticed was a little spirit hovering around. Satisfied and wearing a grin, he hastily hovered back to base at once.
"Master, I bring good news. The Dreadlord is banished from the banshee's lands from betraying her and attempting to assassinate her. During their struggle, the ranger got her leg injured. Her forces are all unorganized, as well as herself. Now would be the perfect time to strike," informed the black shade, bowing down to the Lich, staring at his own wispy body.
"Very good, little shade. You may go now," replied Kel'Thuzad.
"So what do you propose to do now? The shade's advice to strike at her now is a good one to consider," Anub'Arak told the skeletal being, hearing the information as he was approaching him.
"I agree as well; now would be the opportune time to strike. Gather up an army of your Nerubians, destroyers, a couple of obsidian statues, and frost wyrms; I will organize my force of necromancers, abominations, and gargoyles, and meat wagons." Kel'Thuzad ordered.
Anub'Arak cut in, "Let's try a different tactic this time; we will gather up all of our said forces, and strike. I will strike at the rear, while you distract them with your heavy assault. I doubt even with her cunning and strategy, she cannot fight two sides simultaneously."
"Very well; we shall strike at sunset," Kel'Thuzad decided, and went off towards the slaughterhouses, buildings with terrifying spikes sticking out on the top, the center of all corpse activity or uses. It was here that the meat-filled hulks, abominations, are held, as well as where their siege wagons were loaded with their ammunition. Anub'Arak, meanwhile, headed toward the crypt, a huge building with mystifying bone carvings surrounding the outside. His crypt fiends resided here.
After every unit was gathered and as the round orange sun was disappearing, Anub'Arak and Kel'Thuzad met outside the gates.
"My shades have informed me that Sylvanas has her forces organized, but she herself is not in prime condition. Our target should be her, while our armies fight hers" Kel'Thuzad suggested.
"Agreed; let's move out!" thundered Anub'Arak to the back, and the Scourge marched out.
On and on the mighty Scourge marched. The trail they went was marked by many gigantic footsteps, creases left by wheels, and an occasional patch of freezing ice, able to make anything and anyone go numb. After a few hours until the day was dark, the troops and the heroes arrived at the capital of Lordaeron once more.
Now let's do this again… thought Kel'Thuzad, and nodded to Anub'Arak. He in turn nodded, and took his branch of the army with him and headed toward the rear. As he went and Kel'Thuzad awaited his signal, he formed two clubs of ice in his hands. The chilly night air collected in his hands, visible by the mist being focused into the skeletal palms. When enough were gathered, the coldness was enough to form ice. Kel'Thuzad then closed his eyes and concentrated on the clubs while muttering some words. Soon the ice from the clubs shattered, revealing twin swords as sharp as cut diamonds. He examined and looked over his blades in awe, touching the deadly sharp tip, feeling the smooth, yet dangerous sides; this was the power the Book of the Dead granted him.
The lich suddenly jerked his head skyward, anticipating something. When a blast of ice from the opposite direction had shot upward expectedly, Kel'Thuzad pointed his weapon toward the entrance. "Attack!"