Wrath of the Light

Chapter Seven: The Cult of the Damned

More than soldiers ventured with them into Anderhol. There was only one city in Anderhol and much of the surrounding region had long been a wild and untamed. Scattered clans of forest trolls and gnolls could be found within the region. The dark leaved trees had grown over fertile ground.

So it was that peasants who had lost their homes and fields to blight had followed Arthas and Jaina. They had taken with them everything they could carry. Others had gone the opposite direction, heading to Strahnbrad. For their part, Arthas and Jaina led the militia ahead of the main column. Soon they came across a large clearing by a serene lake which glittered in the moonlight.

It was also marred by the sound of chanting voices. There was a circle a group of black-robed men performing a ritual. Their hands were raised in supplication to some unknown force. An abandoned gold mine stood before them, and dark magic was in the air, Arthas could smell it.

'Look,' said Jaina, 'it's those cultists who were with the necromancer. What are they doing to that mine?'

'Let's not wait to find out.' said Arthas, hefting his hammer. 'Attack!'

Rushing forward, he brought round his hammer and struck the nearest cultist. The man reeled beneath the force of the blow as the maul crushed his skull. The others abandoned their work and fled into the shadows, pursued by the footmen. Most escaped.

'Damn these intruders,' said a cultist, 'they must not interfere with the master's plan.'

As the forces of Lordaeron filled the glade, Arthas turned to Jaina. 'Let's wait for Falric here. With those cultists creeping around I'd rather not head in there without backup.'

'I couldn't agree more.' said Jaina, looking to the remnants of the darkness.

Even as they spoke, the population of the village moved forward. They began setting up shelters and the beginnings of a new home. They worked swiftly. They felled trees and erected buildings with remarkable vigor.

'How is it that you have such finesse at this?' he asked.

'The Horde came through here and forced us to start again once before.' said a peasant. 'The undead have done it again. We've prepared for something like this for a long time.'

The knowledge that these simple folk refused to give up heartened him. It filled Arthas with determination. He resolved to wipe away all traces of the undead from this region.

'Sergeant,' he said, 'I'm going out scouting. Keep a close eye on the direction those cultists went. I don't want the undead hurting these people anymore.'

'Yes sir.' said the soldier.

Arthas kept his hammer close as he crossed the woods. As he walked, he eventually came within sight of a little farmstead. It was a skeleton of a building now, the beams were blackened with fire, and the roof had caved in. A woman was standing by the exit, and she made for him. Even as he opened his mouth to call out to her, however, two ghouls leaped from the wreckage. They slashed her down mid-stride. She was dead before she hit the ground.

In a rage, Arthas rushed at the ghouls and smashed one of their spines with a swing of his hammer. The second leaped through the air at him, yet he raised his weapon and summoned the light to his age. The ghoul was consumed in light and fell to pieces in moments.

Arthas remained silent for a long moment, looking at the body before him. Then he moved on, feeling very grim. If he had only been a few days earlier, these people might still be alive. He moved further north and stopped short. The blighted ground stretched before him, the scent of carrion filled the air. Nightmarish buildings towered before him. They were almost unreal in their appearance. It was as if they had been summoned from a place which did not obey the same rules as Azeroth. Nany monstrous skeletal creatures walked to and fro. The moans of the dead were audible. He had come to the edge of an undead bastion. Turning east, he was relieved to see that the blight did not extend across the river.