NOVEL NEXT Chapter 22: Ambush
The second-hand embarrassment Jaina feels on Tyrande’s behalf as they make their way back up from the Barrow Deeps into a place that the Night Elves have taken to calling the Felwood is incredibly intense. But… truth be told, Jaina actually welcomes it all things considered. Better to focus on everything she just bore witness to, rather than the fact that she’d been caught watching Rognak and Shandris fornicate in the woods all those days ago.
… Yeah, she hadn’t spoken to either of them about it since, and if possible, she would continue not to speak about it with either of them. Her behavior in that moment had been mortifying to say the least.
Then again, at least she could fall back on the excuse of being a mortal or something. Seriously, from what Jaina had learned since this alliance of theirs began, the Night Elf people were ancient and immortal. Pretty much all of them had been alive for over ten-thousand years now. Certainly, at the very least all the ones Jaina had met personally had been.
And yet… the incident she’d just witnessed take place between Illidan Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwind had all the trademark signs of a romantic snafu of epic proportions. In that moment, these ancient Night Elves hadn’t reminded her of some immortal, ineffable beings beyond her mortal comprehension. No, they’d reminded her of her own fumbled, failed romance with one Arthas Menethil as a teenager.
As previously mentioned, the second-hand embarrassment was quite strong. Jaina’s heart went out to Tyrande, truly it did. Not only was she dealing with the grief from losing her husband, but she was also stuck with his idiot of a brother who apparently hadn’t matured in ten millennia of imprisonment.
That all said, Jaina silently swears to support the other woman however she possibly can. And right now that seems to entail following Illidan through the Felwood with Cenarius, Lord of the Forest leading the way. Their party is a small one by this point at least. There’s Cenarius, Tyrande, and Shandris. And then there’s Rognak and Thrall. And finally, there’s her.
As they creep along however, Jaina hears the sound of fighting up ahead and wonders if they might have been better off with back-up. When Cenarius holds up one of those branch-like hands of his, Jaina stops and so does everyone else… until they see what’s going on in the clearing beyond their temporary hiding place.
Jaina’s eyes widen at the sight of their quarry, the recently freed Illidan Stormrage, doing battle with a hooded figure wielding a Runeblade atop an undead steed. Immediately, she begins to gather magic. But Tyrande proves faster than her and already has a glowing arrow nocked when Rognak suddenly raises his hand, silently bidding the Priestess of Elune to hold on for a second.
Frankly, Jaina doesn’t think Rognak’s effort would have amounted to much… if the battle in the clearing beyond had actually continued from there. However, at the same moment Rognak stops Tyrande, the fighting between Illidan and this dark, hooded figure comes to a halt as well. The blindfolded Night Elf growls as he darts back out of range of the hooded man’s Runeblade.
“Tch. We could go on fighting like this forever. What do you want, human?”
“Hm. I did say we were evenly matched, did I not?”
Jaina blinks. The voice of the hooded figure strikes her as strangely familiar, even as it reverberates through the clearing. It is double toned, as though there are two voices speaking as one atop one another. And yet, she can’t help but twitch a little bit, a frown spreading across her features as she tilts her head to the side, thoroughly confused.
Illidan, meanwhile, just snarls and shakes his head, flicking his long ears in irritation.
“Get to the point!”
“Heh, very well. There is a dreadlord in these woods called Tichondrius. He perverts these forests with a powerful artifact known as the Skull of Gul’dan.”
Jaina’s breath hitches at that, and she notices Thrall shifting back and forth from the corner of her eye. Both of them recognize the name ‘Gul’dan’ it would seem. But… is it actually HIS skull? Surely not right? Then again, from the stories that Jaina heard of the leader of the Old Horde’s warlocks, his skull WOULD turn out to be a powerful artifact for demonic purposes she supposed. Fel had a way of seeping into everything and everyone that dared to touch it, enhancing but at the same time corrupting whatever it could get its grubby little claws into.
“If you remove the Skull of Gul’dan from Tichondrius, if you take it for yourself, you will not only gain the power to defeat the Legion, but you will also save these forests from further corruption.”
Standing there, Jaina can’t help but be confused. The hooded human that Illidan is talking to… he positively radiates death. From his undead horse to his vile-looking Runeblade, to the very armor he wears with skull-like motifs on his pauldrons. She can even see strands of white hair drifting out from under his hood. Whether he himself is alive, she does not know… but he is steeped in Death Magic, that much is for sure.
So then why? Aren’t the Scourge and the Burning Legion working together? That was the grand reveal that Jaina had only uncovered after she and her people had made it to Kalimdor. Everything they had been fighting back in Lordaeron, everything they struggled against… was the machinations of demons working behind the scenes. The Cult of the Damned and the Scourge were nothing but patsies for their demon masters.
And yet here this… creature was, strikingly familiar and trying to convince Illidan to save these woods from a demon called Tichondrius.
There’s a moment of silence, and then a dark chuckle from the hooded figure.
“The truth? My Master seeks the downfall of the Legion. That is the truth, Demon Hunter. He is all-knowing and he has watched you all your life, Illidan Stormrage. He knows that you have sought power for a long, long time and he knows that you have the will to do what must be done when no one else does. Now… now that power lies within your grasp. If you do not seize this chance, then your enemies will and you will be lost.”
Now, Jaina doesn’t know Illidan very well… but from the way the Night Elf falls silent, she can tell that he’s being swayed by the hooded figure’s words. Meanwhile, Jaina’s sense of familiarity has only grown the more that the man speaks. Who is he? She has to know. She has to.
“I have told you what you must do. Now I will leave you to it.”
In that moment, the mounted figure turns. It just so happens that he turns in Jaina and the other’s direction, giving her a full unobstructed view of his face from beneath the hood. Of course, more than that… their eyes meet. And in that moment Jaina knows she looks upon the face of Arthas Menethil, Prince of Lordaeron.
“Arthas…”
The name slips out of her mouth unbidden and she regrets it a moment later… but it’s too late anyways. His eyes have already widened as he recognizes her and realizes that he and Illidan aren’t alone. In an instant, Illidan whips around as well, having heard Jaina’s voice with some seriously impressive hearing.
For a split second, time itself almost seems to stand still. Nobody moves. For a moment, Jaina meets Arthas’ eyes and thinks she sees the boy she once loved under the pallor skin, the stark-white hair, and the skull armor. But then his face twists into a rictus of hatred and anger as Rognak steps out from their hiding place and into the clearing, hefting his axe in both hands.
“Death Knight! Step away, Stormrage! That monster must be slain!”
“What?!”
At hearing the words ‘Death Knight’, Thrall bursts out as well, Doomhammer held in his hands. And a moment later, Tyrande, Shandris, and Cenarius join the two orcs. Entering the clearing last, Jaina sees the moment Arthas takes in the forces he’s up against and decides discretion is the better part of valor. However… when he looks around to find an escape route, it’s to discover that Rognak has acted swiftly. A thick wall of brambles surrounds every part of the clearing at this point, hemming Arthas in with them.
Jaina’s breath hitches as she sees something more familiar in her former beloved’s face. Resolve and determination spreads across Arthas Menethil’s countenance as he turns back to them all, eyes narrowing dangerously.
To his credit, Illidan doesn’t look as though he’s inclined to side with whatever this thing is that Arthas has become. However, it doesn’t mean much in the end. Coming to the conclusion that fighting is his only way out, Arthas starts things off by lunging forward on his mount and sinking his Runeblade right into Illidan Stormrage’s unprotected chest.
The Demon Hunter looks shocked, gazing down at the impalement in muted surprise. He doesn’t even get a word out before the etchings on Arthas’ Runeblade glow brightly and suck Illidan’s soul right from his body in a grotesque display that turns Jaina’s stomach. Rognak was right. Arthas has become something as awful as a Death Knight. And that sword of his is a reaper of souls.
“NO!”
To the side, Tyrande screams in anguish and despair as Illidan’s soulless, lifeless body slides off of Arthas’ blade. The Death Knight swings his undead steed around and spins the Runeblade for a moment before pointing it at them and charging forward. But Rognak, of course, is already there to meet him, glowing green axe in hand.
“Do not let his blade touch you! Keep your distance at all costs!”
Even as he tosses out those particular words of wisdom, Rognak closes the distance, not taking his own advice. He lets out a roar in response to Arthas’ cavalry charge, and for a moment Jaina’s heart leaps into her throat as she imagines her former love repeating his killing move on Rognak. However, just as they’re about to meet, Rognak transforms, changing into a hulking bear-like creature that damn nearly doubles his size. His axe swings up and knocks Arthas’ Runeblade away and at the same time he shoulder-checks the man’s mount, sending it rearing backwards and toppling over-end.
Arthas isn’t brought low by such a move so easily, however. What would have killed a mortal man as he was pinned beneath his steed is but a mere inconvenience for the monster that Arthas has become. He frees himself with ease, rising to his feet and sneering as Rognak keeps his distance. A few arrows from Shandris seek to pierce the Death Knight’s defenses, but he’s able to easily deflect them with his Runeblade, before sneering and lifting up his other hand in a clawing motion.
“Arise.”
Jaina jumps as she feels the earth beneath her feet suddenly shifting. The mage’s eyes widen when she watches skeletal hands begin clawing their way up out of the ground. And it’s not just the long-dead and buried that Arthas is bringing back either. As she dodges around grasping hands, Jaina watches in fresh horror as Illidan’s corpse jerks and spasms, beginning to lift off the ground and stand under its own power once more.
With that, the battle is truly joined in earnest as Thrall slams Doomhammer into the ground, calling a lightning bolt upon half a dozen of the undead Arthas has summoned. Jaina likewise calls upon her arcane magic, coalescing it into ice that freezes the undead solid, allowing them to be more easily shattered.
However, she can’t take her eyes off of Arthas and Rognak’s fight. The orc druid continues to stand as their frontline, and at any moment Arthas could slay him in the same way he slaughtered Illidan. Only Cenarius’ support protects Rognak from some of the blows that might have ended his life. Heart constricting painfully in her chest, Jaina steps forward, tears in her eyes.
“Arthas! What have you become?!”
His head twitches towards her, allowing Rognak to dodge the Fallen Prince’s latest blow and pull back to get some healing for a moment. Eyes filled with madness and hatred fall upon Jaina and she sees not a single ounce of the love he once held for her in that gaze.
“What have I become, Jaina? I became what I had to. What you and that old fool made me become.”
Rognak enters the fray a moment later, and Jaina is forced to return to keeping the shambling undead that Arthas has risen from catching up to her as they claw at the hems of her robes. But she still can’t quite contain herself or focus on the fight. Not when their enemy is a boy she’s known since childhood.
“Uther was your teacher, Arthas! Why couldn’t you just listen to him?!”
Arthas just laughs as his Runeblade and Rognak’s axe lock together for a moment, the orc druid’s green muscles positively bulging against the supernatural power packed into Arthas’ altered body. Rognak snarls, his face twisting in anger and concentration. Then, they’re forced apart again as Cenarius calls a beam of solar energy down where they were just stood and Arthas is forced to dance back out of its reach lest the deadly rays of light find him.
“Uther was old and let his age keep him from seeing the right path. If he had only done what needed to be done from the beginning, I wouldn’t have had to kill him and all the others! He was a failure and he died like a failure! Just as you and your pathetic allies will as well!”
Jaina’s heart clenches at the news that Uther is dead. She knew, of course. She’d already known. But even still, to hear it from Arthas’ lips… for a moment, Jaina feels lost. Adrift. In the end, she only manages to avoid ending up zombie chow because of Thrall, the Orc Warchief having her back as she stands there swaying from side to side for that brief instant. But then she remembers where they are and what this battle entails and she refocuses on what’s happening.
“Then… then you are truly lost, Arthas.”
The look of mad delight in his eyes and the wild and wicked grin on his lips makes it clear how little he cares about her opinion at this point. But before he can reply with some cutting comment sure to break her heart even further… a pure and primal scream echoes across the battlefield, drawing the attention of everybody.
Just in time too, because the large, glowing arrow of radiant moonlight that Tyrande Whisperwind shoots from her bow might have taken Arthas’ head clean off if he hadn’t seen it coming and moved his Runeblade into the way in time to deflect it. In fact, the only reason he’s able to respond in time, Jaina realizes, is because Tyrande fired a similarly sized bolt at the reanimated corpse of Illidan Stormrage first, obliterating it in a bright flash of light. Similar moonlight streams down into the clearing from above and Jaina watches as stars fall in a barrage that slaughters every undead still hounding and harassing them.
Arthas is able to defend himself… but the others, not so much. And stepping forward, Tyrande Whisperwind is WREATHED in that glowing moonlight as her eyes shine with a fury that Jaina feels to the depths of her very soul.
“Death Knight.”
The way Tyrande says the words is both a promise and a curse. The grief and sorrow that have characterized her since the loss of her husband in the Moonglade are gone, or at least buried deep enough to be meaningless at this point. Instead, all Jaina sees in the other woman… is pure, unadulterated rage.
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