Chapter Fourteen: Marching into the Forest of Life

At night, the energy radiating from the Sunwell suffused Quel’Thalas, casting a tranquil charm over the Eversong Woods. Golden magical trees shimmered, lush green meadows stretched beneath them, and soothing arcane motes drifted through the air.

“I wonder what decision Alleria will make. It seems this battle with the trolls is about to begin,” Patrick thought.

Within his own chamber, Patrick focused an orb of arcane energy between his hands. He was studying the creation of forcefield spheres—a spell he had modified, diverging from the traditional form. By fusing the forcefield sphere with arcane mimicry, Patrick succeeded in forming a “particle” with a gravitational field. Though the force was still weak, it had begun to take shape; this was the first arcane spell Patrick had independently developed in Azeroth.

Before leaving home, his father had given him several arcane scrolls, which had proven invaluable—arcane stabilization and forcefield construction were essential references as Patrick refined his own magic.

Stepping onto the balcony, Patrick gazed out at the Forest of Life beyond the defensive wards. The woods were eerily quiet, a silence so deep it was unsettling. Below, sentries and guards kept constant watch, wary of a troll ambush.

The next day, in the eastern sanctum’s grand hall.

“A mage just reported detecting traces of hex energy in the Forest of Life. The trolls are performing rituals within the woods,” Alleria said, glancing at Patrick.

The hall was silent; no one replied. Indeed, when facing trolls hidden in the forest, holding the city was the wisest course. In the woods, the elves had no advantage.

On the contrary, the forest was the trolls’ domain. Their racial traits would be fully unleashed in their home terrain.

Alleria continued, “We have notified the Farstrider Enclave to reinforce their defenses, and we are reallocating forces from both the Tower of Dath’Remar and Sunreaver Farms for support. However, if this drags on, the trolls of Zebwatha will continue to threaten the Farstrider Enclave.”

Her expression darkened. She knew that abandoning a defensive stance for an offensive into the Forest of Life offered little chance of victory. If the trolls had laid heavy ambushes, everyone could perish—becoming offerings to the trolls’ dark gods.

“Waiting passively is not the way of the Quel’dorei. We know nothing of the trolls’ intentions—should we simply let them scheme in the Forest of Life? Quel’dorei Serrar Shindu nah—Quel’dorei will slay their foes with the sword,” Hawksbill declared, drawing his longsword and thrusting it into the ground.

“General Hawksbill makes a good point. We should take the initiative,” Patrick said, looking at Hawksbill, then turning to Alleria with a suggestion. The skin exposed beyond her ranger’s tunic was pale, almost luminous, nothing like the weathered skin of a seasoned warrior.

Before anyone could respond, Patrick continued, “The Forest of Life is unlike any other region. Though a troll tribe holds the southern part, the west and north are under our control. That’s why the trolls have been observing us for so many days in the woods.

They must prepare for battle before we discover their plans, intending to coordinate with the trolls confronting the Farstrider Enclave—hoping to capture it in one swift strike, then move on to the eastern sanctum and Sunreaver Farms.”

He paused, then added, “So our aim should be to disrupt their formation. Moreover, most of the Forest of Life is close to the eastern sanctum and under our control. The trolls only occupy a small section. With the sanctum at our back, we can swiftly receive reinforcements and supplies. Launching an attack into the forest is not impossible.”

The plan for a proactive strike was set. Alleria and the other elves gathered to discuss specific tactics and routes. Patrick left the hall early to prepare spell components and arcane potions—this would be his first time on the battlefield, and nervousness crept into his heart.

Finally, the group confirmed the route and the time—tomorrow morning.

The commanders departed to rally their forces and ready all necessary supplies, while the mages prepared arcane scrolls and sent intelligence to Silvermoon City.

“How confident are you in this strategy?” Alleria asked.

“To be honest, I’m not certain. As I said yesterday, my conclusions are only based on the available intel. I have no experience fighting trolls. Marshal Alleria and General Hawksbill are far more qualified to make such decisions.”

Alleria fell silent, lost in thought.

The troops assembled; Alleria led the way, with Patrick and Hawksbill following. Civilians began evacuating the eastern sanctum, leaving only those elves able and willing to serve as soldiers. There were three mages with the force: Patrick and two fourth-circle sorcerers.

Before their departure, the mage tower had received a reply from Silvermoon. Alleria’s request for reinforcements had been approved by the council, and troop redeployments were already underway. Only the trolls’ intentions at Zebwatha remained to be confirmed, and the crisis at the eastern sanctum to be resolved.

The force set out. Passing through the mountain pass and leaving the defensive barrier, arcane motes could still be felt in the Forest of Life—though less pure than within the wards. The air was tainted with the stench of voodoo and hexes, making the elves, especially the mages, uneasy, even nauseated.

The journey was uneventful—so much so that it was unsettling. Not a troll was seen, only tracks discovered by the rangers. Patrick began to doubt himself, wondering if his tactics were mistaken.

The force continued to advance northeast through the forest, and the closer they drew, the stronger the stench of hex magic became. The air was tainted by troll voodoo, and the rangers’ observations confirmed that troll activity increased nearer the northeast.

Now, the generals had no more doubts and pressed forward at full speed toward the northeast of the Forest of Life, to the southern banks of the Arendar River.

When the troops finally spotted trolls, Hawksbill’s eagle vision proved invaluable—he saw trolls busily at work in the woods, felling trees and constructing crude rafts. In the center, several aged witch doctors fussed over jars and bottles, dancing strange rituals around a totem.

As the witch doctors danced, red vapor escaped from their jars, flowing into the totem. The priests began chanting, and the totem radiated green energy. Nearby, Amani berserkers and axe-throwers absorbed the green light, their muscles swelling, the fanatic gleam in their eyes growing ever more intense.