That evening, on the road to Andorhal
"So, what have you learned?"
Jaina bit back a rebuke with difficulty. "I have only just begun, Arthas." It had been little more than a minute and a half since she began her examination, in fact. Several hours had passed since the second altercation with the undead. Andorhal was relatively close, the next major settlement on the King's road to the north.
Mercifully, there had been no further ambushes and strong progress was made while the light lasted. Arthas had wanted to press on and was only swayed by the practical advise and/or protestation of Falric, Marwyn and herself. A reasonably secure location had presented itself, and with all of the more mundane evening tasks complete, Jaina now sat as comfortably as she could, with the sample suspended in the air a short distance before her.
Arthas made what was likely a louder exasperated vocalization than he realized, beginning to pace. "Arthas. Stay still, or leave. I require as much focus and as little distraction as possible. You do want answers, I presume?" His mouth worked futilely, as he visibly struggled to retort. Finally, he accepted defeat, all but flouncing down with an armored-clank.
"Thank you." Though she could admit that it was unworthy of her, Jaina did derive some small measure of satisfaction from putting him in his place. Fortunately, the other soldiers were already giving her a wide berth. She closed her eyes, fully embracing the arcane second-sight. Temporarily reining in one's vision was not necessary to access that more mystical sense completely, but like most mages, she found it improved the clarity of the process.
Through her mind's eye, now enhanced via a very real magical lens, the mage perceived the hard-won sample. Immediately she felt that foul, perverse magic again. A shifting, seething mass of sickly-green, turning her stomach, clawing at her senses. But she was prepared this time, and whomever created this taint was not her equal.
Implacably, Jaina extended a tendril of power towards the source, seized and dismantled it. Though she would not mention it to any, the sorceress found the otherwise invisible spectacle of her own blue-violet energy steadily tearing apart that green quite gratifying. Even beautiful, in a way. A whispered counter-spell, and it was done.
Free to analyze the properties of the neutralized work laid-bare, Jaina's fears were confirmed. She dismissed the remnants once more with an arcane-thought, then opened her eyes, meeting the anxious pair of Arthas. "Well?" he demanded.
Jaina was too troubled and tired to reprimand the impatience at the moment. She climbed to her feet, with him following suit. "Gather the others."
Arthas blinked. "Now?"
"They need to be aware of what we face before we proceed. 'Now' is as good a time as any."
"...Perhaps it might be best were I the first to know."
At that, Jaina frowned. "I would rather not repeat myself. What difference would it make?"
He waved a hand, loosely encompassing the camp. The soldiers not on shift were partaking of rations. subdued and speaking only when necessary in low tones. "You see how shaken they are. Morale might take another hit if we aren't careful."
She raised a brow."'How shaken?' You were planning to push us further still today. That makes such protestation rather hypocritical, wouldn't you say?"
Arthas looked away briefly. Then grudgingly allowed, "you may not have been entirely wrong on that previous note. Still, my point remains."
Jaina placed her hands on her hips. "They have every right to be fully informed. Each of them is a career soldier. Considerably more experienced than yourself, for that matter. I think their nerves would hold. Were you planning to withhold information?"
That would have been the wrong thing to say, were it not intended. Arthas's eyes widened and nostrils flared. "I have been thrust into a crisis unprecedented in the history of any nation!" He all but sputtered. "Forced to confront a foe no 'more experienced' soldier has faced. And we prevailed. I think my leadership has more than sufficed."
She was severely tempted to douse him with ice water. The verbal equivalent would have to do, "we didn't 'prevail.' We survived. No meaningful victory was won today. All of those evidently involved with this artificial plague escaped, and there may well be any number at large elsewhere."
Arthas crossed his arms over his chest. "Dozens of undead vanquished is not a victory? You yourself stated that their numbers must be limited, and they are inferior combatants. We will hunt down their rogue masters soon enough."
"As you may recall, my own magic was responsible for more than half of that count." Rather than express gratitude, Arthas merely scowled. "Yes, there is a maximum number of possible animated-dead. However, that precise capacity is both significant and difficult to ascertain. Furthermore, we have few leads on the location of our enemies and no way of knowing what quantity of corpses they may have already risen. Our ranks, on the other hand, have already dwindled."
"Just what are you implying?" He growled.
"I am not 'implying' anything." Jaina replied, coolly. "Subtlety can be redundant when reality becomes self-evident. For the entirety of this journey thus far, you have disregarded any counsel offered. By people more experienced and/or informed than yourself, no less. Nine men and women died today, along with eight horses. How do you think it felt for me to destroy their bodies for fear they would rise against us? On the first day of combat, many have already paid a hefty price that might have been avoided."
Arthas was stunned silent for a moment. Then snarled, "you are out of line!"
"Out of line?' Jaina hissed. "I am not a citizen of Lordaeron, I am a princess of Kul Tiras! Moreover, I am an operative with the full authority of the Kirin Tor behind me. I am not under your command by any stretch of the imagination, you would do well to remember that! This is my investigation, not yours, and you are here to provide me assistance, not the inverse."
He could only utter a helpless, frustrated noise, turning to take several steps before he could bring himself to face her again. "We all knew the risks well before today," Arthas tried to speak quietly, clearly struggling to restrain himself, then gestured at the troops, some of whom had begun to tacitly observe the exchange from afar. "Every soldier does when they enlist."
Now Jaina was the one rendered momentarily speechless. She found her words, "can you hear yourself? The fact that voluntary military combatants are aware of possible ramifications that may ensue from such a choice does not mean they have signed-on to have their lives needlessly or carelessly cast aside. All of them deserve better from you!"
"What better could they hope for than a commander that leads from the front, fully aware of the threat faced and sharing every danger nonetheless? You are naively mistaken if you think victory can be claimed without sacrifice."
Jaina shook her head, unable to help a moment of cynical laughter. "I was indeed mistaken, about a great many things. Most recently, I didn't prevent you from endangering all of our lives. Maybe I share some of the blame for this disaster of a day as a result. You, however, have amply proven more 'naive' than any other on this quest."
"What would you have us do? Refuse to engage? Merely study our enemy? That is not how wars are won!" Arthas shot back.
"That is a deliberate conflation in an attempt to undermine my position. And entirely ineffective at that. If you believe tactical-analysis is not imperative to success in war, than you have no business in a command capacity. Understand this, if you continue to lead recklessly without any strategic consideration and casually disregard the lives in your charge, I won't hesitate to freeze you to a tree in front of your soldiers." Jaina warned, frostily.
His eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare-"
"Would you prefer a short duration as a sheep? Some other harmless-critter of your choice, perhaps?"
Arthas flushed, giving another angry exhalation. "I don't want us to argue. As leader of your military escort, I am asking you to share your findings with me, now."
Jaina met his gaze with a suitably-icy glare. "You can lead the way and rally the others for this purpose, as is your right. Alternatively, I will. Which would be your preference?"
He uttered a sound of helpless frustration, then stomped towards the center of camp. Jaina followed in short order, content to let him lead the way.
"Soldiers, gather 'round," Arthas called. All those not on duty out of the immediate vicinity ceased all activity and assembled in short order. To his credit, Jaina thought Arthas was suppressing his wounded pride relatively well, this time. The paladin waved in her direction. "I believe our mage may have some information for us."
All attention was instantly diverted to her. For most of her life, Jaina might well have shrunk from being the object of such rapt focus. She had learned much over her mystical studies and travels though, and would like to think that she may have picked up passable leadership abilities by now. Hopefully. "Indeed," the sorceress began. "I have confirmed that this plague is of magical origin, as many of you have likely assumed. The grain we found was imbued with a curse." Low murmurs followed this statement, with faces becoming grimmer still. She gave them a moment.
"How could this have happened, mage Proudmoore?" Marwyn voiced a question for all.
"It appears that a cabal of mages, warlocks, or some other class of magic-user have developed a new form of magic. They have bound it to at least some amount of grain. This may have been the means by which the plague was initially distributed."
"Is this cursed grain responsible for the walking-dead?" Arthas was attempting to maintain a stoic demeanor, but it was plain to her how affected he remained. Both were fair, she thought.
Jaina shook her head. "No. Not directly, at least. The enchantment has two properties, the first of which is to infect the victim with a disease that progresses more rapidly than any natural plague should. The second..." She involuntarily trailed off, deeply disturbed and attempting to formulate her thoughts.
Arthas wasted no time in prompting her. "Yes, Jaina?"
"It places a delayed-spell within. This can later be activated remotely by the wielders of this magic, simultaneously killing the victim and converting them into a mindless minion under their command." Even the disciplined soldiers could not fully contain expressions and vocalizations of revulsion, outrage, and even fear. They immediately distanced from each other, almost in panic.
"Enough!" Arthas shouted, more harshly than he should have.
Jaina rushed to salvage the deteriorating environment. She raised her hands in a placating gesture, calling out, "I would be able to sense the curse in any of you at this range! Perhaps a paladin can as well." She tilted her head at Arthas, who gave a confident nod, even though that point remained unconfirmed. Order reasserted itself, albeit with caution and some spacing. She supposed they could hardly be blamed for that.
"So this magic remains after death?" A reasonable question from Falric, who had unsurprisingly retained decorum.
"No, it..." Jaina took a deep, steadying breath. "The spell fades at that time, as most do. It appears that these enemy casters themselves may have the ability to raise and command the dead freely."
As one might expect, stunned silence and pale faces followed. One of the women spoke up first, "Lady Proudmoore, how can we defeat such foes?"
"The same way we would any other," Arthas loudly insisted.
Jaina would readily admit that many of the fighters here had more experience than her. Probably most, for that matter. If not all. She gave Falric a meaningful look. Whether or not he noticed, the veteran offered his input: "blunt weapons might prove somewhat less ideal against enemies that are not as affected by that brand of inner-trauma. The same can possibly be said for piercing-blows, likely hampering spears and even arrows to some degree.
"Swords may be exceptional, due to the speed and long-edges to which we are accustomed, in tandem with decapitation seeming to remain quite effective against the dead. Axes will likely be useful to a lesser degree for similar reasons, taking the speed loss approaching that of hammers, as we know, but of course sharing similar added value in impacts to armor. We have seen that the light is powerful against the undead, and the arcane-arts are as devastating as ever." He offered a short bow to her, followed by the others in attendance.
Arthas, who had begun to smirk triumphantly at acknowledgement, quickly soured at being upstaged. Jaina could not help some slight satisfaction at the sight. He attempted to casually gain some ground. "Is ice really the best choice against the dead?"
Jaina blinked at the bizarre question. "It seems to function perfectly well so far. Why would extreme, supernatural cold be less viable in this context than any other form of arcane energy?"
"The lifeless undead? 'The chill of the grave?'
Seriously? She waved a hand, "that is nothing more than an antiquated euphemism, with no relevance to our current scenario - if any. Even should you dispute that, keep in mind that if something is impacted at high speed by an ice-shard shaped from pure magic, frostbite will likely not be the source of its' demise." Jaina finished wryly, and some even chuckled at that despite the gravity of the situation. Visibly, Arthas was not pleased at the outcome of the exchange.
Marwyn pitched in, perhaps to spare his friend. "The greater danger will doubtless remain their own casters."
"While you may be right in principle, Lieutenant, it is possible that the number of powerful sorcerers amongst their ranks is not overwhelming. Few humans are born with notable magical abilities. The Kirin Tor keeps a vigilant watch for these - along with those of other races - in the hopes of both finding potential recruits and preventing abuses of power. I doubt the enemy would wish to chance a direct confrontation with Dalaran, and the risk of discovery would only increase as this conspiracy grew. The fighting force the cabal can generate may prove a greater threat than they in isolation, and their might be no shortage of less mystically-inclined collaborators. Ultimately, the plague itself could still cause the most destruction."
"And the monsters subverted perhaps the most essential industry in the kingdom to spread it." Arthas aggressively reasserted himself upon the end of her explanation.
"Are we certain that the rogues did, in fact, use grain initially?" Falric asked her.
"Difficult to say," Jaina speculated. "I don't doubt that it could have begun by some other means. I suppose the grain might possibly be a more recent development; hijacking that indispensable process could be reliable for broad-dispersal with lower risk of detection. And there is that second, insidious effect that seems to require consumption."
Arthas scratched his beard for a moment. "Andorhal should be scheduled to release another round of regional shipments two weeks from now," he mused. "We can arrive within two days if we push. Should the distribution center there have been infiltrated, we will have plenty of time to intervene, save our people and punish those guilty. This may not stop the crisis entirely, but should give us the time we need." A number of the soldiers nodded, and most seemed to approve the tentative plan. Even Falric and Marwyn appeared cautiously positive.
Jaina simply stated, "I hope you are vindicated, Arthas."
They set out early once more, keeping as brisk a pace as could be reasonably sustained. The first day passed without incident, although they did encounter two more small villages, both of which were abandoned with traces of violence.
Arthas shook his head after a careful investigation of the first was conducted. "We all know what happened here. So where are they?"
"I fear they are being held in reserve for some foul purpose, likely ambush or an offensive." Marwyn spoke gravely."
"Us, or Andorhal?"
"That can't be confirmed at this time," Jaina felt obligated to mention. "Andorhal would be the most significant target in the region, though."
"Then let's not waste any more time." Arthas spurred his horse, and the journey continued.
By afternoon on the second day, they were almost to Andorhal, as Jaina was told. She could admit some slight sense of optimism at what seemed, at face value, a swift and hopefully successful leg of the journey. Inevitably, this sentiment was not to last. Upon cresting a short hill, they observed five cloaked-figures identical to those that they had previously encountered in the field beyond. They brazenly stood in an inward-facing circle just to the side of the road, waving hands in synchronized, green-glowing passes. The ground between them radiated that same foul visual that was clearly on-theme. "What are they doing?" she muttered to herself.
"Let's not wait around to find out! Attack!" Arthas cried. Jaina vigilantly stretched out with her senses as they charged, finding no insidious surprises immediately ahead, thankfully.
It took little time for them to be noticed. "Damn these intruders!" shouted one. "They must not interfere with the master's plan!" The man made a shooing gesture and they all turned to flee. The field itself was small, the road beyond continuing up another gentle-slope. No human could hope to outrun a horse on clear, level ground; let alone in those ridiculous robes. They did manage to reach the hill, with herself, Arthas, Falric and Marwyn nearly on their heels.
The instant before the last cultist reached the hill, Jaina felt a dark flare. "Stop!" she shouted, thrusting out an arm and willing an arcane barrier into being a short distance before them. The others yanked reins with audible surprise, stopping safely before her shimmering, blue-violet fortification. Before they could round on her an opposing, green impediment appeared abruptly after the first four cultists reached the hill, isolating the last. Observing the nature of the enemy magic, she cautiously lowered her own wall and edged her horse forward, beckoning Arthas and the other two. The bulk of their force remained a short distance behind, alarmed, but prepared for combat nonetheless.
The cultist turned to face them. "My life for Ner'zhul!" she shouted. To the shock of all present, the cultist then drew a dagger from the folds of her voluminous-robes and clumsily drove it into her own throat.
An involuntary amalgamation of alarmed, shocked and horrified vocalizations erupted. Jaina was no exception. She shook herself, and jabbed her free-hand forward, channeling her power. A tightly-focused gale of cold streamed forth, enveloping and partially-freezing their collapsed, gurgling foe. "Save her! We need information!"
Arthas nodded, nudging his horse forward, radiance gathering in his open palm. And... nothing.
"What's wrong?"
"It isn't working, the light will not touch her!" he grit out, visibly struggling.
Jaina wracked herself, coming up empty. The icing would not delay the inevitable much longer and reinforcing it would be fatal. Unfortunately, the quandary proved for naught. They were all shocked once more, as an orb composed of - and trailing - writhing green, purple and black energies soared down through the unholy barrier and struck the lackey in the chest. Ice shattered and the body stilled.
Their horses gave alarmed-whinnies, backing away several steps while all eyes snapped to the source of the missile. A familiar foe, standing a short distance up the hill. As a longtime resident of Dalaran, Jaina was accustomed to raiment-choices eclectic, eccentric, theatrical, melodramatic, or any ostentatious permutation thereof. That established, the villain before them might just represent the pinnacle of absurdity.
The entirety of their lower body was concealed by what could almost pass for a black ballgown. Were it not for the viciously-spiked hem, segmented ebony plates edged with jagged brass over where the legs must be, and several...skulls dangling from chains between these. The torso appeared coated in the same, almost chitinous material, culminating in a ridiculous double-layer of flaring black and then green pauldrons. This ensemble was completed by a vast, sweeping headdress and a long-horned skull-helmet with sinister green-glowing eye sockets.
One thick-sleeved arm clutched a staff that looked constructed from several large bones with a snake coiled about the upper third. The man himself was old, short, hunched and spindly. That was likely not his fault, but it certainly did not aid an already-wavering intimidation factor.
"Hello again, children." The voice was rasping, sibilant and smug all at once.
"You! Who are you?" Arthas spat.
"I am Kel'Thuzad."
Jaina's eyes widened, "Kel'Thuzad..."
Their antagonist diverted his full attention to her, giving what almost seemed a genuine smile. "Jaina Proudmoore herself, prodigal-protege of Antonidas. I must say, it was quite invigorating to witness your recent displays of power. While I hold no illusions of recruiting you to the cause, you are wasted on those staid fools of the Kirin Tor. Alas, a crying shame."
Not quite what I had been expecting to hear. "I suppose I will take that as a complement," she attempted to gauge this unmasked, albeit not unknown opponent.
"As well you should, but I digress." Kel'Thuzad turned to address Arthas, "I have come to deliver a warning: leave well enough alone. Your curiosity will be the death of you."
This threat was aggressively brushed-off by Arthas. "Are you responsible for this plague, sorcerer?" he demanded.
Kel'Thuzad laughed, "I have long since transcended that moniker. You may call me a necromancer. Yes, I ordered the Cult of the Damned to distribute the plagued-grain. But the sole credit is not mine."
"'Cult of the Damned?' Seriously?"
A chuckle. "What can I say, I may have a flair for the dramatic. A flaw, perhaps. But if so my only such, to be sure."
"Well, you and your cult have declared war on Lordaeron. Damned, indeed." Arthas was cocky, far too much so.
This elicited a dark, patronizing laugh from the necromancer. "My dear, naive Prince Arthas. Lordaeron created the cult. So many prospective recruits. Some easily swayed by a dangle of power and prestige, others merely disillusioned. A multitude of the destitute and disenfranchised. Your father created a fertile breeding-ground of discontent indeed. As a result, we are everywhere, at every echelon of your society. One might almost say that we are legion...'" Kel'Thuzad chortled loudly, some joke known only to him.
The face of Arthas contorted with fury. "You lie!"
"Oh yes, quite often. Not in this instance, however." Kel'Thuzad responded smoothly, upbeat.
Arthas made to retort again, but Jaina edged forward and placed a hand on the near-pauldron. "And to whom do we accrue this credit, then?"
"I serve the Dreadlord, Mal'Ganis. He commands the scourge that will cleanse this land and establish a paradise of eternal darkness."
The necromancer failed to conceal his eagerness at the notion. A mistake. "What a disappointing motivation," she replied with a slight, albeit very mocking smirk of her own.
Now the tightly controlled, arrogant veneer of Kel'Thuzad slipped for a moment. "Impudent girl!" he spat. "You will-"
Unfortunately, Arthas was evidently ignorant of her desire to goad more information. "What exactly is this 'scourge' meant to cleanse?"
Kel'Thuzad mastered himself. "Why, the living of course. His plan is already in motion. Seek him out at Stratholme, if you need further proof. Now, matters demand my attention. Adieu." With that, he snapped his fingers and vanished in that familiar flare of green.
Arthas gave a wordless, furious howl and dismounted. He took the few steps toward the barrier, visibly channeled the light and delivered an overhead blow with his now-luminous hammer. The green crackled with golden light and held for a time, but the intensity of the light built. The wall flickered, fizzled and faded. Arthas staggered for a moment, then steadied, panting from exertion. None of them said a word.
The paladin walked over to the suicidal-cultist and took a knee, placing his hammer on the ground. Jaina joined him on foot. Arthas had removed the hood of the enemy lackey. Revealed was no red-eyed fiend or risen corpse, but a nondescript woman of average height and appearance, perhaps in her thirties. The sort of individual that could be found in droves throughout any region with a notable human population. The face had paled and blood still flowed, but the truly disconcerting aspect was the smile that adorned that death-mask.
"Do you think he was telling the truth?" Arthas spoke without looking at her, "Have they truly infiltrated everywhere?"
"I don't know," she replied after a moment's silence. "I imagine he exaggerated at least somewhat, hoping to demoralize us. There may be a kernel of truth in his boasts, and the matter would need to be investigated even had we not encountered him. However, I think it is premature to be shaken by these claims."
He rose to his feet and turned to face her, nodding. She could tell he was unconvinced, though. "Falric, Marwyn. Join us."
"Prince Arthas," The former added moments later.
"Jaina," Arthas began. "Do you know him?"
The words were almost accusatory. Jaina narrowed her eyes, "no, as that exchange should have plainly indicated. But I know of him. Kel'Thuzad was an esteemed member of the Kirin Tor, colleague and friend to Archmage Antonidas. As I understand it, that friendship frayed when a seat on the ruling Council of Six opened and he was passed-over in favor of my mentor.
"Supposedly, he was always somewhat a maverick: encouraging the exploration of a broader magical purview that skirted the shores of the forbidden. Such as investigation of orcish warlocks, for instance. This behavior evidently worsened after his perceived humiliation, to the point that he was encouraged to take a lengthy sabbatical, or something of that sort."
"So he was banished," stated Falric.
"This is all secondhand information, but it would seem so. There was talk that he had cut all ties at once and vanished not long after. It makes sense, now. Kel'Thuzad would likely fit the bill of engineering this plague more than any other mage on the continent." Her eyes fell, "maybe I should have seen it sooner."
"And you just let him go?" Arthas' face and voice were hard.
That was enough. Her eyes shot to his, "I was not involved in the process to any degree. As I far as I know, he had committed no crime. Would you have had him executed?"
His mouth worked for a moment, alarming her. Was all their time together a lie? "...Maybe not. But clearly, he should never have been allowed to walk free."
"A life-sentence, then? How generous," Jaina shook her head. "Feel free to confront my superiors on the subject, but don't presume to lay any culpability for their decisions at my feet."
"I am sure Prince Arthas did not have such drastic measures or personal offense in mind, mage Proudmoore." Marwyn wasted no time in coming to the defense of his Prince. To his credit, the warrior seemed to guilelessly believe in Arthas while meaning no disrespect to herself. She supposed such loyalty deserved a modicum of respect, blind as it may be.
Jaina sighed, "I suppose it hardly matters now. He is here and must be dealt with."
Falric frowned. "While it is safe to say everyone on this reconnaissance-turned-offensive agrees, what is to stop him teleporting away yet again?" All three looked askance to her.
"Teleportation is volatile, dangerous and often inexact at the best of times," Jaina explained. "Kel'Thuzad knows this as well as any. It is unlikely that he would attempt anything more than short-ranged use casually, often colloquially referred to as a 'blink' or 'shimmer.' I have sensed only average ley-line confluence nearby..." She paused at the three confused stares, "ah, my apologies. Presence of ambient magical forces in the area. This factor could make it more or less difficult to teleport, or even use magic in general for that matter. I think the most likely explanation is that he has created an anchor of sorts at a designated location, allowing safer and generally more reliable transportation to that specific point of origin."
Arthas released a frustrated sigh. "So he can escape to this location at will, and it could be hidden anywhere. How can we hope to catch him?"
"It may not be quite so bleak as that. I did say 'to,' not from," Jaina gave a slight smile that she hoped reassured. "Such an artifice is unlikely to ease travel away from the location in question. Given what we have discovered, and having encountered Kel'Thuzad twice within a relatively short time and distance; it is not unreasonable to assume he is indeed puppeteering the efforts of this cult in the area at the behest of this 'Mal'Ganis.' He should need to be close at hand to effectively do so, and this manner of teleportation may well have an inherently shorter range. Furthermore, I doubt that he would be able to sustain more than one of these works simultaneously."
They perked up somewhat at this revelation. "Are there any other vulnerabilities we might exploit?" asked Marwyn.
She nodded, "I believe so. The spell would likely fade over time, requiring replacement with regularity. Also, I don't believe that he could teleport many alongside himself: likely no more than we have witnessed thus far at most."
"But he still might gain a considerable lead," Arthas persisted, not unreasonably in this case. "How are we to prevent such an escape?"
"I may be able to help with that, our next encounter. Pin him in place, so to speak." Arthas shared a rare, grateful expression at that. Unfortunately, some sobering information needed to be shared. Jaina looked between the three men, "for the moment, I am more concerned about the immediate threat our enemy represents to us and our companions. Each of you are at least partially aware of the decisive-influence mages can exert upon a battlefield, and Kel'Thuzad is a formidable example at that."
The veterans nodded grimly, while Jaina met the eyes of Arthas, "If possible, leave him to me. It may be best were you to channel your abilities into protecting the others." The paladin visibly disapproved and seemed poised to object, but relented silently with a sharp nod.
He then asked, fairly, "why didn't you stop him just now?"
She shook her head. "The barrier he placed prevented it, this time."
Falric smiled and gave a short, military bow, followed by his second while Arthas remained aloof. "I think I speak for all the company when I express considerable gratitude that you are with us, mage Proudmoore."
"As has been said before, we are in this together, Captain." Jaina smiled.
"That we are," Arthas interjected. "Now, what about this "dread lord, Mal'Ganis." Is that name familiar in any way?
"No. But the way he said 'dreadlord' almost sounded as if something more than a title. A thing, perhaps? That would entail yet more troubling implications. For now though, it is only speculation on my part."
"Understood. I don't imagine there is much you can add as to 'Ner'zhul?'"
Jaina considered. "Well, there may be some deduction to attempt there. 'Take with a grain of salt', of course. That cultist was readily prepared to end her life on behalf of this Ner'zhul. She did not reference Kel'Thuzad or Mal'Ganis. Perhaps both are subordinate to the former in some unholy chain of command?
"From what we have just seen - and the reputation I have heard and shared - it seems apparent that Kel'Thuzad is no zealot. For all his talk of 'a paradise of eternal darkness,' I doubt he would be swayed by anything less than power and prestige, himself. And any individual or being that might turn one of the more formidable mages of the Kirin Tor would merit caution, needless to say."
Unsurprisingly, all three were visibly grave at this appraisal. "If he isn't a fanatic, why did your taunt get to him so readily?" Arthas asked.
"I imagine it may have been more that anyone had the temerity to cast doubt on his actions and intentions. A dangerous, yet far from unique flaw."
Arthas nodded, naturally accepting the explanation without the slightest self-awareness. He turned and gave a stern stare in what was likely the general direction of Stratholme. "Those are questions for another day, Mal'Ganis is the lead we have. And he has compromised Stratholme."
"We don't know that," Jaina objected, firmly.
His eyes narrowed. "You heard him, and said yourself that we would need to investigate the subject."
"I heard a monster attempting to bait us into an obvious trap of some form. And I said that it would need to be investigated, not that we would necessarily be the ones to do so. Not alone, at least. Regardless, Kel'Thuzad is the more pressing threat at this time."
"I suppose so," Arthas beckoned them, moving towards his horse. Jaina did not appreciate that, but allowed it. This time.
"A moment," she said once they had mounted. "I want to take a look at what they were up to." Jaina did not wait for a response, turning and spurring her horse. The soldiers smoothly parted to allow passage for herself, the other three in tow. In all but seconds, they reached the ritual site and halted at a distance.
Jaina surveyed the small area with mundane and mystical senses. The ground was black, cracked and shriveled. Devoid of life. Frustratingly, too little of the spell-craft remained to divine its function. Arthas pulled her from her analysis, "can you tell us anything about it?"
"Little," she replied. "Thankfully, the spread ended when we disrupted whatever ritual they were performing. Needless to say, all of us should avoid contact if possible."
"Agreed," Arthas wheeled his mount around, leading them on.
Inevitably, fate was determined to offer no respite. As they approached the overlook that she knew should offer the first view of Andorhal, the faint echoes of screams reached them. Arthas noticed shortly after herself, immediately hastening forward. "To arms!"
He guided his horse off the road and as close to the elevated-edge as he could while preparing to dismount, no doubt to take a look. "Let me," Jaina said, teleporting as close to the edge as she dared. Below sat Andorhal, on the opposite side of a river to the North and accessible from their side via two bridges. She made a cursory appraisal, then turned and willed herself back into the saddle.
"Well?" Arthas demanded.
She let that slide, under the circumstances. "They are under attack from both near bridges, the gates may have been breached."
His eyes widened, "the undead?"
"Possibly. It is too far away to be certain."
Arthas nodded, turned to his troops and raised his hammer. "Andorhal is besieged! For Lordaeron!"
Many voices took up the cry, "for Lordaeron!" And they were off. The road arched into a gentle decline that did little to slow the charge. In minutes, they approached the first bridge and had witnessed the last of the undead entering through an open gate shortly before. All the sounds of battle were present, to a greater degree than Jaina had yet heard in her lifetime. Clashing, cries, screams. Death.
An earlier glance upward had confirmed fighting upon the battlements, but shrinking distance and improved clarity caused her breath to catch in her throat. A group of guards were hard-pressed by opponents that were very much alive. "For the scourge!" came a fanatical shout, doubtless a cultist.
The enchantments woven into the sorceress's runecloth clothing offered greater protection than any suit of mail - unenchanted and of conventional ores and crafting, at least. When reinforced by an active-barrier of ice magic, as she had ensured on approach, her defenses were formidable. Thus prepared, she turned to Arthas. "I will take the wall!" she shouted. He might have responded, but Jaina had already selected what seemed the most accessible point, and warped herself through time and space.
Unlike her blunder two-days prior, this time Jaina stuck the landing, amongst the embattled guards. Several lay dead, the survivors having set their shields as well as possible. They were well outnumbered, beset on both sides by civilians with assorted weapons, along with what looked to be several traitorous-soldiers. All combatants started at her doubtless bizarre arrival, and the mage wasted no time. "Duck!" The guards did so as she summoned the magic intrinsically bound to her very essence, sweeping each pale-blue, glowing arm in an arc.
Power surged through her, unleashed in both directions as carefully as she could. The frigid wave all but froze-solid every one of her opponents, whose expressions of horror might have been oddly comical if not for the tragic necessity of the act. With sadness, Jaina clenched her illuminated fists. A thought made reality shattered the ice along with those inside.
As the soldiers cheered, she merely felt hollow. "Light bless you, mage!" exclaimed a man in the armor of a Captain. "The traitors ambushed us and took the gatehouse. I don't know if we would have held much longer."
Jaina nodded, "we are here to help, Captain." She pointed to the open area just inside the wall, where Arthas and the others had plowed into the enemy from the rear, to the amazement of her present company. "Get down there and assist my companions however you can, I will do my part from here," she ordered. Thankfully, the soldiers were clearly well-disposed and saluted, rushing below. When the last had departed, the sorceress sealed the two heavy rampart access-doors with ice and ensured her defenses were steady. Then, she began to seek out targets. As feared, few before her seemed clean.
"Damn it, Jaina." Arthas swore as she disappeared in that telltale blue-flash. Whatever disagreements they may have had during this stressful time, he cared deeply for Jaina and loathed the thought of her in danger and unsupported. He certainly empathized with the desire to save lives, but it seemed that the gate was open and the damage done. Ultimately, they faced more immediate perils. Although, that elevated position coupled with her abilities could prove a tactical-advantage, he supposed, which was likely part of her reasoning. He could appreciate this, and had to trust that she could take care of herself.
His focus returned to his own task as he passed through the gate. The Prince raised his hammer, "death to the scourge! For Lordaeron!" The pride of Arthas justly swelled as dozens of voices echoed the cry, both amongst his own company and the beleaguered defenders bearing witness to their salvation. He dropped the reins, raising his weapon with both hands and bringing it down on the armored head of an undead or traitor before it could turn to face him.
Arthas hoped the former was the case, and the slow reaction of his foe seemed to support that. But he knew that ultimately it didn't matter. The helmet crumpled like tin as the head beneath burst forth in a fountain of blood, bone and brain. The creature collapsed and he was past, giving its nature no further thought.
The sizable two-handed hammer Arthas wielded was unable to strike foes ahead, and unwieldy from horseback in general by default. Fortunately, his horse, a sizable beast bred for bearing heavily armored knights into battle, was quite capable of bowling over opponents. Two of the dead were tossed ahead as he dealt another fatal-blow, to what had clearly been very much alive, treasonous scum.
Perhaps it was unworthy of a paladin, but he could not deny some pleasure at the man's death-scream. This was only heightened at the sound of his soldiers crashing into the enemy line at his heels. With faith in the righteousness of his cause, Arthas began to spread his light to those nearby, tangibly strengthening their defenses... until his concentration was instantly disrupted moments later as he was cast forward from the saddle when his horse stumbled without warning.
Though his armor - dwarf-forged and blessed with his own light - would likely have protected him regardless, the flight of Arthas was arrested by a small cluster of undead, all of them crashing to the ground. While he was stunned and struggling to regain his bearings, the dead had begun futilely clawing and biting at whatever part him was nearest, to his amusement. He had involuntarily released his hammer in the fall, but a weapon was not required to channel the light.
With that confident thought, Arthas unleashed the luminescence within as he had before. A golden shockwave burst forth, blasting his assailants back a short distance where they lay, charred and releasing smoke of that same shade. They twitched briefly, then lay inert. Finally at rest. He tried to pick himself up, and promptly fell to the ground as his strength dropped in a rush. Clearly unleashing such power took a toll, the paladin was furiously forced to acknowledge.
"On your feet, Prince." Marwyn rushed to his side and extended a gauntlet, only deepening his embarrassment.
Still, if it had to be someone... "Thanks, brother." Arthas took the proffered hand, already feeling a second wind. He took the hammer that was returned, and they rushed to rejoin the fight. It seemed that some of the dead thought trampled had managed to latch on to or otherwise assault the horses of himself and a number of his followers, causing much of the charge momentum to collapse. Fortunately, the local forces had been able to rally and come to the aid of those unseated or otherwise isolated, and the tide had turned to promising.
Arthas and his companion added numerous kills to their tally. As they turned to face an oncoming cluster, the prince felt the temperature suddenly spike, before a pillar of flame materialized and engulfed the undead. He turned to the gatehouse wall, noticing a figure that could only be Jaina. Though perhaps a little jealous of the power and influence she wielded over the battlefield as a mage, the paladin raised his hammer in salute nonetheless. Victory would soon be his.
"Prince Arthas, look!"
He spun around to the direction indicated. There, some distance away upon the wall of the elevated second-tier of the town, stood Kel'Thuzad. A glance behind confirmed that Jaina was otherwise engaged, and had apparently not noticed their nemesis. Damn it. Perhaps it was better this way, though. Arthas turned to Marwyn,"we need to bring him down."
If his friend feared confronting this formidable adversary, he did not show it, merely nodded. Fixated upon the foe, Arthas started to run for the nearby street leading upwards in that general direction. Before he had taken ten strides, the necromancer dramatically waved a glowing, green hand and the paladin halted, reaching for the light. The feared unholy assault he hoped to defend them from never came, however. Bewildered, Arthas muttered aloud, "what is he..."
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of numerous, heavy footsteps. Moments later, his eyes and nose were assailed by no less than four of the absurd, repugnant, abominable flesh-golems lumbering around a nearby street corner. Arthas glanced to Kel'Thuzad again, to see him raise that staff, and walk out of sight. Immediately he sensed that fell aura not upon, but all around him. Horrifyingly, every corpse visible began to rise once more. Not again! "To arms!" he shouted. This may have been redundant, given the shocked cries erupting from behind.
One of the abominations fixated upon him. Wielding an oversized, crude cleaver and club in arms the width of a medium tree trunk, it leered grotesquely and drooled green-spittle. Arthas infused his hammer with light. "Flank it," he growled to Marwyn, who was already moving back and to the side. The paladin then charged the creature with a challenging shout. The thing clumsily brought the club down in a massive, resounding blow which he sidestepped, only to be forced backwards by a sweep of the cleaver. The Prince certainly did not want to chance his armor or weapon against that kind of strength.
The arm was brought around in a backhand, forcing him to duck, at which the monster almost seemed to growl with frustration. It attempted to charge him, but one of its legs was neatly hamstrung by Marwyn from the rear, blade biting deep into unprotected flesh. When his opponent struggled to remain upright while turning to swing at this new threat, Arthas rushed forward, slamming his hammer into the opposite limb. The thing groaned loudly as that leg gave immediately, seared and crushed by the blessed weapon. Their foe toppled backwards, stilling when his friend drove his sword clean through its head.
Arthas smiled and nodded to Marwyn, only to feel a heavy chain wrap around his midsection and yank him backwards before he could react. He met the ground hard. "Arthas!" his companion cried out in alarm.
The Prince regained his faculties just as the fiend brought the cleaver in its other hand down upon him. Desperately, Arthas summoned a shield of light and the blow rebounded, harmlessly. The monster halted for a moment, almost in confusion, then raised weapons to assault him again. He was certain it would fail to breach his barrier, but he would not be able to sustain such powerful-protection for long, even when performing no other mystical or mundane actions.
A glance toward his friend saw Marwyn attempting to rush to his aid, impeded by a small group of undead civilians and soldiers. With a perfect stroke, the elite guard cut the first in half, immediately engaging the next duo. However, the torso of the 'slain' corpse had inadvertently twisted slightly in its fall, and now hauled itself the very short distance to Marwyn. Arthas's eyes widened, "watch out!"
The warning came too late. In a tragic case of misfortune, the undead thought-defeated unwittingly drove its dagger deep into the rear junction of greave and thigh-plate to then pierce the mail. The warrior simultaneously cried out, dropped his sword in shock, recoiled and tripped over the torso. That was all it took. Marwyn desperately raised his shield, but it was for naught. The dead, joined by several more, tore that last barrier away and piled on, blades rising and falling.
"No!" Rage greater than Arthas had ever felt boiled within, and his divine-shield faded as the light erupted from him in an uncontrolled, fiery-golden burst. The formerly-human undead nearby were tossed aside, groaning loudly, while the abomination reeled backwards several steps, heavily seared. It prepared to come for him again as he reclaimed his feet and prepared himself, giving a wordless shout of challenge, vengeance and grief.
Before he could take any action, however, the head of his enemy burst in an explosion of foul, green fluid as it was struck by a bolt of blue lightning from above. His eyes shot towards the source, taking in two dwarves on gryphons rushing towards the fight, whooping battlecries. Arthas had heard that some of their allies of that race possessed power over the sky, but had not known how literal that reputation was. On any other occasion, he might have been impressed, or even jealous.
Unthreatened for the moment, Arthas rushed to Marwyn, summoning the light. He focused the golden-energy desperately, knowing on some level, it was too late. The assailants had managed to bypass the warrior's armor and driven a blade clean through his exposed throat, almost severing his spine. Hot tears flowed freely from the Paladin's eyes, and he released the flow of energy. Arthas looked down, and failed to notice the hand grasp his leg. He jerked back in shock a moment later, "Marwyn?"
The hope he had unavoidably felt was crushed as he saw another vile, dead fiend wearing the skin of his friend mindlessly clawing and hissing at him. Arthas stepped back in disgust, then bent the light furiously on this fell-caricature. The undead gave that scream he had come to know, fanning the flames within him. He continued after it was clearly destroyed, only stopping when it had become unrecognizable. Still the tears fell. Arthas wiped his eyes as well as he could, "farewell, brother."
Arthas looked to the necromancer's last known location, vengeance consuming all else. Without a backward glance to those under his command, the Prince dashed up the nearest street as swiftly as he could.
Jaina watched the departure of Arthas with dismay. She had to assume he was looking for Kel'Thuzad, abandoning a battle and those in his charge to do so. The sorceress had thus far been preoccupied destroying undead reinforcements that had emerged from the trees to flank her allies. They had appeared to be gaining the upper hand despite the recent raising; even before the arrival of what could only be Wildhammer elementalists from Aerie Peak upon their revered gryphon mounts.
Given the intense, close-quarters combat, it remained dangerous to utilize her own gifts to their fullest. That appraisal made, Jaina teleported to a nearby segment of the rampart and cast her invisibility. She set off in search of Arthas and the necromancer, approaching a street that appeared to lead to the opposite end of the towns' upper level.
As it happened, finding Kel'Thuzad was deceptively simple. Arthas was not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, however. His enemy stood alone a short distance before the keep atop the rise, turning at his approach. "Welcome, princeling."
Consumed by fury, Arthas strode towards his adversary, hammer raised. "It is well past time you faced justice for your crimes, Kel'Thuzad!"
Said foe merely laughed heartily, mockingly. "Justice... Or revenge?"
"They are one and the same, monster!" Arthas charged and made a massive swing, only for the necromancer to vanish in a green flare. He let out a cry of frustration that turned into agony as he was struck by excruciating pain, seeming to bypass his armor entirely and scour his flesh. The paladin desperately directed the light through his body, turning around while struggling to mend the damage. Kel'Thuzad now stood a short distance away, tendrils of writhing, green energy streaming between them.
Arthas was uncertain how long he could sustain the spell, and knew better than to allow any magic-user to remain distant. The paladin ceased healing, allowing the torture to resume for a moment. Only long enough to surround himself with an aura of divine energy. Less powerful than ideal, though not so taxing to sustain as would otherwise be required. For now, the barrier held and his foe's cruel, smug look was replaced with visible frustration.
With righteous vengeance, the paladin thrust his hammer at his enemy. The head glowed with building, golden-intensity as his power surged. After several seconds, he released a bolt of holy energy that rapidly crossed the short distance between them. Kel'thuzad's face shifted to an expression of fear as he attempted to conjure a shadowy shield. The projectile struck the vile sorcerer in the chest regardless, sending him to the ground a short distance back.
Now it was his turn to smirk. Victory is at hand! Arthas rushed at the necromancer as he struggled to regain his feet, bringing the hammer down. He miscalculated slightly in his eagerness, but Kel'thuzad raised that ridiculous staff in a vain attempt to block regardless. The foul weapon splintered, falling in several pieces while Arthas followed through with a vicious kick to the chest.
The former-mage hit the stone hard once more, yet managed to teleport again, backwards this time. He stood, wheezing, shakily raising a hand, which was immediately encased by a violet, runic circle to the surprise of both. Numerous more near-instantly followed, binding Kel'thuzad by his other limbs and neck. His arms were forced behind him and sealed in conjured ice. Finally, the once-formidable adversary was driven to his knees. Arthas smiled as Jaina materialized behind the necromancer and teleported to his side.
To the surprise of both of them, Kel'Thuzad burst out laughing. "A treacherous, underhanded sneak-attack," he chuckled. "I like you, Proudmoore."
Arthas did not seem pleased that his own role was ignored. "Anything to say for yourself, fiend?" he furiously demanded.
Kel'thuzad's face was disturbingly serene. "Foolish child. You will find that my death makes little difference in the long run. The scourging of this land cannot be stopped..." She wouldn't have been shaken by the attempt at condescension even were she the target. No, It was the absolute confidence displayed in the necromancer's delivery that chilled her.
Jaina opened her mouth to respond, only for Arthas to level his still-glowing hammer at their foe. "Arthas, wait!" Unfortunately, her protest fell on deaf-ears. Before she could intervene, the paladin channeled and loosed a burst of light that struck Kel'thuzad, killing him instantly. If the charred, gold-smoking form slumping through her bindings was any indication, that is. She had absently noted the weapon-head flickering as the spell began, but this oddity was discarded in the face of what had just happened. "What have you done?! You fool!" she screeched, unable to stop herself.
Arthas rounded on her. "You would have spared him?!" he shouted.
"Yes! Only to interrogate him, after which he could be disposed of at leisure. I might have been able to break his mind and extract the vital information we need, now that is impossible!"
Surprisingly, Arthas actually looked somewhat chastened at that revelation. "I'm sorry, Jaina." He studied his handiwork for a moment, downcast. Hesitantly, his gaze returned to hers, "would he really need to be alive for that purpose?"
Her mouth opened and worked, numbly, but she could not force words out. Jaina stepped back, involuntarily. Finally, the sorceress found her voice, "you can't be suggesting... I wouldn't know how to begin, or if I am capable of such! I severely doubt that anything at all could even be gleaned. What makes you think that I would be willing to do such a thing?" How can you presume to even ask?!"
"You said he might have all the answers we need!" Arthas pressed, and she retreated again, shaking her head. Mercifully, they were interrupted: a lightly armored man on a gryphon landed nearby.
"Thank the light you arrived when you did," he began, dismounting and giving a pat to his formidable companion. "Looks like the other gates weren't hit as hard, but I am not sure we would have held if they took this one. Who do we have to thank?"
"Arthas, Crown Prince of Lordaeron."
Crown Prince, is it? "Jaina Proudmoore, of the Kirin Tor."
The man bowed, "Dungar. 'Longdrink,' the Wildhammer call me." He shook his head, "I think all of us hope the ale is on the house for the next month or several after what we've seen today."
Despite herself, Jaina could not deny a slight appreciation for the light-levity, given their circumstances. "The next grain shipment must be stopped, Dungar," Arthas stated. "I need to speak to the administrator responsible, along with those for the town at large. Where are they""
Dungar blinked, "the grain has already been distributed, your highness."
Arthas paled. "What? How?!"" She was likely little better.
"We received word that some other assorted settlements were suffering a shortage. The harvest has been fairly bountiful here, so there seemed little reason not to make an early delivery. What is wrong?"
"That grain is carrying the plague that created these undead and is ravaging the kingdom!" Arthas near-shouted at him.
The gryphon rider gasped, "how is that possible?"
It seemed Arthas might be about to make his countrymen an unwitting scapegoat for his frustrations. Jaina intervened, "rogue sorcerers, we are hunting them."
Dungar nodded, "understood. I think it is safe to say that all of Andorhal is behind you, particularly after this day."
"There may be something you can do for us and yourselves, Dungar," Jaina began. Arthas was clearly in enough shock to lapse into momentary silence.
"Name it, Lady Proudmoore."
"We need you to fly south. Highlord Uther is likely to be leading an army northward. I want you, or another gryphon-rider, to find him. Divulge what you have seen and we have shared."
Arthas instantly reacted, as she knew he would. "We don't need Uther, Jaina!" he snapped, loudly.
Jaina glared at him. "We are in far over our heads, Arthas." she replied, coldly. "Even you should see that by now. I am not asking for permission." Arthas growled, shook his head and aggressively strode several paces away.
The gryphon rider looked between them, then focused on her. "Very well, I will deliver the message myself. Should be able to rally another rider or two, ensure we make it." Dungar then shook his head, "I really am moving to Stormwind after this." he muttered.
"Thank you," Jaina smiled, grateful. "I will write a letter for him, to accompany your testimony. Fly as swiftly as possible."
The two of them silently approached the gate once more, meeting Falric as it came into sight. The captain reined in his horse, looking them over sternly. "The necromancer?"
Arthas nodded, "I defeated him. And Jaina prevented his escape," he motioned at her.
Jaina frowned. That statement troubled her, not simply due to the all-eclipsing arrogance she had learned Arthas now possessed - if not always, with her having been too young and/or blind to notice . When she had arrived on the scene and bound Kel'Thuzad, he had indeed seen better days. But was not, in fact, defeated. Moreover, he had been dueling Arthas, rather than making the escape that he likely could have made.
While it had been made abundantly clear to her that there was no longer any prospect of a future together, she certainly wished no ill upon Arthas. Who was by no means a master combatant, and Jaina would not have expected him to emerge the victor of such a battle. Kel'Thuzad certainly appeared to have no shortage of his own hubris as a possible weakness, but even so...
"Before he died, I thought I sensed something..." she absentmindedly mused to herself aloud.
Both men looked askance. "Sensed what?" Arthas demanded.
Jaina narrowed her eyes, but was too weary to call him out on his rudeness. She shook her head, "it was nothing." There were possible explanations for such an occurrence. Perhaps simple, mundane stress, even. She discarded the concern, for now.
A small amount of tension seemed to leave Falric. "Perhaps some victory has come of this day, then. We had been gaining the upper hand even before those dwarven sky-casters arrived, but not long after they did the undead lost any semblance of cohesion. They began attacking whatever was nearest, each other included. I had hoped that cutting the head off might be the cause."
"It is good to have possible confirmation of that," Jaina responded. She would let Arthas have his moment.
"Falric," Arthas began. "Marwyn-"
"I know," the veteran interrupted, soberly. "We found what was left of him. Marwyn did his duty and would have expected no more or less from any of us. And we him."
"I am sorry," Jaina offered, genuinely. "I cannot say that I knew him well, but he seemed a honorable and loyal man."
"That he was," Arthas answered. She could see that he was struggling to keep the tears from falling.
"How did it happen, Prince?" Naturally, Jaina wondered the same, but did not have the heart to ask. She appreciated the captain's forthrightness.
"I was pinned by one of those corpulent monstrosities, he tried to come to my aid. An undead he thought slain struck him from behind. It was all the opportunity others needed." His free gauntlet clenched and shook, "he rose to assault me as one of them. I had no choice."
Falric seemed driven to silence himself, for a moment. "Losing a close friend under one's command is unpleasant enough at the best of times. Even more so the first time it happens. Though I certainly know of none that have had to put down that friend a second time themselves. You did what you had to, Marwyn would be the first to agree." The captain sighed heavily, "he has joined a fourth of our number, since we set out."
Jaina could not help a gasp, "so many?"
"What was I supposed to do? abandon Andorhal?" Arthas indignantly lashed out.
She was taken aback, for a short moment. "Nothing I or Captain Falric said offered you insult! Keep your pride in check, Arthas." Said officer held his tongue for a moment, looking warily between them. Arthas ultimately broke eyes first, to her slight satisfaction.
Falric cleared his throat, "the shipments...?"
The shoulders of Arthas slumped. "They sent it out early last week. We failed."
"I see," the Captain sighed. "Then the question becomes, what happens next? We likely lack the time and resources to track down and stop even half the deliveries, if they have not already reached their destinations. Particularly as it is entirely plausible that the cult have infiltrated that system and the locations in question, to some extent."
Arthas swept a hand, indicating the town. "There are plenty of capable warriors here that we might recruit."
"You would leave Andorhal defenseless?" Jaina demanded.
"That grain poses a threat to all of Lordaeron! We struck a blow to our enemy today, and Andorhal is unlikely to come under renewed assault so soon."
"That is absurd. It would not remotely surprise me if Kel'Thuzad and his cult engineered the 'grain shortage.' Even if not, we know he had agents here, how could he be uninformed as to the activities of that indispensable regional industry? Why do you think he attacked Andorhal?"
"You have a theory, mage Proudmoore?" Unsurprisingly, Falric seemed to have some inkling of her suspicion.
"He attacked the town to... conscript it." Jaina couldn't help a slight shudder at the notion.
As Arthas made to object, Falric interjected. "I fear she may be correct in her suspicion, Prince Arthas."
A betrayed expression crossed the face of Arthas. "Would you both weigh the danger to Andorhal greater than risk to the realm? And I would not deprive this place of all it's defenders in any case, merely enough to make a difference in our quest."
"Even the entirety of the garrison would be insufficient to stop the exports. That established, what would you have us do?"
"Ride out in force, for Hearthglen. It is the largest target, both in the region, and on the way to Stratholme. And Mal'Ganis."
Jaina shook her head, "Arthas, we know nothing about this 'Mal'Ganis' beyond the name. Only that it was a transparent manipulation by a cunning and ambitious rogue sorcerer. His master, if indeed there is such, is not the most immediate threat."
"But Hearthglen is in clear danger, and on the way. This is no longer an investigation, it is war."
"I agree. But Hearthglen should already be well defended and we cannot deprive Andorhal of protection when it will likely face another assault."
Arthas made to retort, but Falric raised a conciliatory hand. "What would be your counsel, Jaina?"
"Gryphon-riders will depart south shortly, bearing a message for Uther with all the information he needs. Wait for his reply. Coordinate our efforts."
"And how long would you have us idle here, Jaina?" Arthas asked, making little effort to conceal his derision.
She tried not to respond in kind, "we all know how fast gryphons fly. I do not imagine it will take long, even if Uther should not be heading our way already."
Arthas looked to Falric. "We all could use some time to lick our wounds." the captain added.
The paladin loosed a frustrated sigh, "alright. We remain here for a day, then set out for Hearthglen with only enough soldiers to replace those that have fallen." He turned to her, "Jaina, we will be leaving with or without you."
Jaina wanted to call him out on his foolishness again, but doubted he could be reasoned with further. She nodded, "with you." Arthas even deigned a small smile at that. All it managed to accomplish was making her feel more uncomfortable. "Now, I have a missive to write."
Not so very far from Andorhal, several unremarkable men and women entered a concealed basement beneath a ramshackle, abandoned house off the beaten-path. Here, they carefully concealed a perfectly shaped, symmetrical and dark purple crystal.
A sinister voice echoed in their minds, "well done, my children. Once I rise again, you shall be eternally rewarded."
True to form, my suffering continued with this mission.
Once again, Arthas has committed no particularly unreasonable - much less immoral - actions. And the writers are well out of time.
As before, Jaina continues to exist only to validate Arthas and his storyline. To a lesser degree this is also entirely true of her interactions with Thrall. In essence, she is a prop, rather than a living, breathing and influential figure.
Case in point, she only has two lines in this mission, the second of only two missions in which she is even playable. The first sentence being "I couldn't agree more" in response to a very simple command instruction by Arthas. I feel this illustrates my criticism rather well. Blizzard even failed to demonstrate the prodigal arcane abilities she was slated to possess.
Having a character - in this case, Jaina - inform Uther of recent developments should mitigate some of the deus ex machina that is his army being precisely where it needs to be next mission at that specific point in time despite no prior indications of his presence. Last sighting a vast distance away, in fact. Well done, blizzard. Yet again.
We receive almost nothing regarding Kel'Thuzad and his faction, a very poor choice given his alleged role as a significant supporting character to come. Moreover we are given no set-up for his survival and renewed appearance down the road. Far from the worst infraction to be sure, but certainly damaging.
Hope you enjoyed. As always, feel free to praise, criticize, critique, so on and forth.