Wrath of the Light

Chapter Thirteen: Dissension

The blue dragon flight assembled in great ranks before Malygos. The Lord of the Blue Dragon flight looked upon them carefully. The great dragon walked before them, his claws shaking the earth beneath him. He considered his words carefully.

'The other dragon flights have said that we should take no action against the coming events.' said Malygos. 'They believe that we should allow fate to play out, for the human to accomplish his dark destiny.

'I, however, have no intention of doing so. Until this point, the Prince of Lordaeron has done severe damage to the undead scourge. It will take them many years to recover from the losses they suffered at his hands. Alexstranza and Ysera now expect us to allow him to go further, and undo all the good he has done.

'We have seen the strands of fate, my children. We know well what horrors will result from the coming events. And for what? That Alexstranza and Ysera might once again pass off responsibility for their failures?

'There is one simple truth here. If the Prince of Lordaeron knew right now where his destiny would lead him, he would end his own life. I intend to save him from the damnation destiny has set aside for him. In so doing we shall save Azeroth from immeasurable harm.

'Who among you will undertake this task?'

A group of dragons stepped forward, some young and some old. All very powerful, Malygoss looked to them in satisfaction. 'Very well, then you will intercept him and the mercenaries when they got through a certain pass. Kill them all, let none survive. We are saving them from a far worse fate.'

Early the next morning, Arthas and Muradin set out from their new base camp. They had an errand of particular importance.

The meeting place was a series of standing stones, an ancient shrine dedicated to the gods of the ice trolls. It was situated atop a great snowy hill and surrounded by many trees. The howls of wolves could be heard every so often. Arthas and Muradin scaled up to the top, accompanied only by a few of Muradin's men.

'Careful lad,' said Muradin, 'we may have to make a break for it right quick if things go bad. Look to the trees.'

Arthas did look and wished he hadn't moments later. The ice trolls were in the trees in great numbers. The ogres were standing about the shrine itself. The troll leader was also there, accompanied by a few bodyguards. Ogre and ice troll alike watched and waited.

Arthas and Muradin walked into the center and nodded to the leaders. A chieftain of the ogre legion stood before him, named Bundush. He was massive and wearing black armor and held a metal spiked club. With him was a troll who was thin even for his kind, and very old indeed. He was hunched over a staff and peered at Arthas in suspicion. The Prince found that he recognized the troll, a Zul'amon he had dealt with in the past.

'Why you want this meeting, tiny?' asked Bundush.

'So mon,' said Zul'amon, 'ya be returning here after many a year, and ya say you don't be having any reason to fight us. But we be having reason to fight you.'

'True enough, Zul'amon,' admitted Arthas, 'you have changed little from how you were before. And you are correct I've killed many of both your kind. And the colonists killed more, or so Muradin tells me. But let me ask you this? What does it matter which one of us would win in a fight if the undead would finish off the winner?'

'You be having a point there.' admitted Zul'amon.

'Ogre Legion strong!' snapped Bundush. 'Ogre Legion crush weak dead!'

'You know better,' said Arthas, 'the Ogre Legion has been struggling to keep its territory for years. The reason you came here was because you couldn't defeat us. And the undead remain a serious threat to all of us combined.'