Arthas had no idea how long he had been fighting. He swung his hammer almost ceaselessly, his arms shaking from the strain, his lungs burning. It was only the power of the Light, flowing through him with quiet strength and steadiness, that kept him and his men on their feet. The undead seemed to be weakened by its power, although that seemed to be their only weakness. Only a clean kill-Arthas fleetingly wondered if you could call it a "kill" if they were already dead-stopped them in their tracks.

They just kept coming. Wave after wave of them. His subjects-his people people-turned into these things. things. He lifted his weary arms for another blow when over the din of battle came a voice Arthas knew: He lifted his weary arms for another blow when over the din of battle came a voice Arthas knew: "For Lordaeron! For the king!"

The men rallied at Uther the Lightbringer's impa.s.sioned shout, renewing their attacks. Uther had come with a solid core of knights, fresh and battle-hardened. They did not shirk from the undead-Jaina, who despite her bone-weariness had also portaled in with Uther and the knights, had apparently briefed them sufficiently so that precious seconds were not wasted in stunned reaction. The undead fell more quickly now, and each wave was met with fierce and impa.s.sioned attacks from hammer, sword, and flame.

Jaina sank down, her legs giving way beneath her, as the last of the walking dead burst into flames, stumbled about, and fell, dead in truth. She reached for a waterskin and drank deeply, shaking, and fished out some dried meat to gnaw on. The fight was over-for the moment. Arthas and Uther had both removed their helms. Sweat matted their hair. She chewed on the meat and watched as Uther looked out over the sea of undead corpses and nodded his satisfaction. Arthas was staring at something, his expression stricken. Jaina followed his gaze and frowned, not understanding. Corpses were everywhere-but Arthas was looking almost as if in a daze at the bloated, fly-riddled body of not one of his soldiers, or even a man, but of a horse.

Uther walked up to his student and clapped Arthas on the shoulder.

"I'm surprised that you kept things together as long as you did, lad." His voice was warm with pride and a smile was on his lips. "If I hadn't arrived just then-"

Arthas whirled. "Look, I did the best I could, Uther!" Both Uther and Jaina blinked at the harsh tone of voice. He was overreacting-Uther wasn't censuring him; he was praising praising him. "If I'd had a legion of knights riding at my back, I would've-" him. "If I'd had a legion of knights riding at my back, I would've-"

Uther's eyes narrowed. "Now is not the time to be choking on pride! From what Jaina has told me, what we faced here was only the beginning."

Arthas's sea-green eyes darted to Jaina. He was still smarting from the perceived insult and for the first time since Jaina had met him, she found herself shrinking a little from that piercing gaze.

"Or did you not notice that the undead ranks are bolstered every time one of our warriors falls in battle?" Uther persisted.

"Then we should strike at their leader!" Arthas snapped. "Kel'Thuzad told me who it was and where to find him. It's-something called a dreadlord. His name is Mal'Ganis. And he's in Stratholme. Stratholme, Stratholme, Uther. The very place where you were made a paladin of the Light. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Uther. The very place where you were made a paladin of the Light. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Uther sighed wearily. "Of course it does, but-"

"I'll go there and kill Mal'Ganis myself if I have to!" Arthas cried. Jaina stopped chewing and stared at him. She had never seen him like this.

"Easy, lad. Brave as you are, you can't hope to defeat a man who commands the dead all by yourself."

"Then feel free to tag along, Uther. I'm going, with or without you." Before either Uther or Jaina could protest further, he'd leaped into the saddle, yanked his steed's head around, and headed south.

Jaina got to her feet, stunned. He'd left without Uther-without his men...without her her. Uther quietly stepped beside her. She shook her fair head.

"He feels personally responsible for all the deaths," she told the older paladin quietly. "He thinks he should have been able to stop this." She looked up at Uther. "Not even the magi of Dalaran-the ones who warned Kel'Thuzad in the first place-suspected what was going on. Arthas couldn't possibly have known."

"He's feeling the weight of the crown for the first time," Uther said quietly. "He's never had to before. This is all part of it, my lady-part of learning how to rule wisely and well. I watched Terenas struggle with the same thing, when he was a young man. Both good men, both wanting to do the right things for their people. To keep them safe and happy." His eyes were thoughtful as he watched Arthas fade into the distance. "But sometimes the only decision is which is the lesser evil. Sometimes there's no way to fix everything. Arthas is learning that."

"I think I understand but-I can't let him just charge off by himself."

"No, no, once I get the men ready for a long march, we'll be on his trail. You should rest up too."

Jaina shook her head. "No. He shouldn't be alone."

"Lady Proudmoore, if I may," Uther said slowly. "It might be good to let him clear his head. Follow him if you must, but give him a little time to think."

His meaning was obvious. She didn't like it, but she agreed with him. Arthas was distraught. He was feeling angry and impotent and wasn't in a state to be reasoned with. And it was precisely for those reasons she couldn't let him be really alone.

"All right," she said. She mounted up and murmured the spell. She saw Uther grin as he suddenly realized he could no longer see her. "I'll follow him. Come as soon as your men are ready."

She would not follow him too closely. She was invisible, but not silent. Jaina squeezed her horse with her knees into a canter to pursue the bright, brooding prince of Lordaeron.

Arthas kicked the horse hard, angry that it was not going faster, angry that it was not Invincible, angry that he had not figured out what was going on in time to stop it. It was almost overwhelming. His father had had to deal with orcs-creatures from another world, flooding into their own, brutal and violent and bent on conquest. That seemed like child's play to Arthas now. How would his father and the Alliance have fared against this-a plague that not only killed people, but in a sick twist that only a deranged mind would find amusing animated their corpses to fight their own friends and families? Would Terenas have done any better? One moment Arthas thought he would have-that Terenas would have figured out the puzzle in time to stop it, to save the innocent-and the next he rationalized that no one could have done so. Terenas would have been as helpless as he in the face of this horror.

So deep in thought was he that he almost didn't see the man standing in the road, and it was with a sharp, startled yank that he pulled his mount to the side just in time.

Chagrined, worried, and furious at being made so, Arthas snapped, "Fool! What are you doing? I could have run you down!"

The man was unlike any Arthas had ever seen before, and yet he struck the youth as somewhat familiar. Tall, broad-shouldered, he wore a cloak that seemed to be made entirely out of shiny black feathers. His features were shadowed by the cowl, but his eyes were bright as they peered up at Arthas. A beard streaked with gray parted, revealing a white smile.

"You would not have harmed me, and I required your attention," he said, his voice deep and mild. "I spoke to your father, young one. He would not hear me. Now I come to you." He bowed, and Arthas frowned. It seemed to be-mocking. "We must talk."

Arthas snorted. Now he knew why this mysterious, dramatically clad stranger seemed so familiar. He was some kind of mystic-a self-styled prophet, Terenas had said; able to transform into a bird. He'd had the gall to come right into Terenas's own throne room, with some kind of doomsday blather.

"I have no time for this," Arthas growled, gathering up his horse's reins.

"Listen to me, boy." There was no mocking note in the stranger's voice now. His voice cracked like a whip and despite himself Arthas listened. "This land is lost! The shadow has already fallen, and nothing you do will deter it. If you truly wish to save your people, lead them across the sea...to the west."

Arthas almost laughed. His father had been right-this was a madman. "Flee? My place is here, and my only course is to defend my people! I will not abandon them to this hideous existence. I will find the one behind this and destroy him. You're a fool if you think otherwise."

"A fool, am I? I suppose I am, to think the son would be wiser than the father." The bright eyes looked troubled. "Your choice is already made. You will not be swayed by one who sees farther than you."

"I've only your word that you see farther. I know what I see, and what I have seen, and that is that my people need me here!"

The prophet smiled now, sadly. "It is not only with our eyes that we see, Prince Arthas. It is with our wisdom and our hearts. I will leave you one final prediction. Just remember, the harder you strive to slay your enemies, the faster you'll deliver your people into their hands."

Arthas opened his mouth for a furious retort, but at that instant the stranger's shape shifted. The cloak seemed to close about him like a second skin. Wings, jet black and glossy, sprouted from his body even as he shrank to the size of an ordinary raven. With a final harsh caw that sounded frustrated to Arthas, the bird that had been a man leaped into the air, wheeled once, and flew off. He watched it go, vaguely troubled. The man had seemed...so certain....

"I'm sorry for concealing myself, Arthas." Jaina's voice coming out of nowhere. Startled, Arthas whipped his head around, trying to find her. She materialized in front of him, looking contrite. "I just wanted to-"

"Don't say it!"

He saw her start in surprise, saw those blue eyes widen, and instantly regretted snapping at her. But she shouldn't have sneaked up on him like this, spied on him like this.

"He came to Antonidas, too," she said after a moment, doggedly continuing with what she had intended to say despite his reprimand. "I-I have to say that I sensed tremendous power about him, Arthas." She rode closer to him, peering up at him. "This plague of the undead-nothing like this has ever been seen before in the history of the world. It's not just another battle, or another war-it's something much bigger and darker than that. And maybe you can't use the same tactics to win. Maybe he's right. Maybe he can see things we can't-maybe he does does know what will happen." know what will happen."

He turned away from her, grinding his teeth. "Maybe. Or maybe he's some ally of this Mal'Ganis. Or maybe he's just some crazy hermit. Nothing he can say will make me abandon my homeland, Jaina. I don't care if that madman has seen the future. Let's go."

They rode in silence for a moment. Then Jaina said quietly, "Uther will be following. He just needed some extra time to prepare the men."

Arthas stared straight ahead, still fuming. Jaina tried again.

"Arthas, you shouldn't-"

"I am sick of people trying to tell me what I should and shouldn't do!" The words burst from him, startling himself as much as Jaina. "What's going on here is beyond horrible, Jaina. I can't even find words to describe it. And I'm doing everything I possibly can. If you're not going to support my decisions then maybe you don't belong here." He eyed her, his expression softening. "You look so tired, Jaina. Maybe...maybe you should should go back." go back."

She shook her head, staring straight ahead, not meeting his gaze. "You need me here. I can help."

The anger bled away from him, and he reached for her hand, closing fingers encased in metal over hers gently. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that and I'm sorry. I'm glad you're here. I'm always glad of your company." He bent and kissed her hand. Color came to her cheeks and she smiled at him, the furrow in her brow uncreasing.

"Dear Arthas," she said softly. He squeezed her hand and let it go.

They rode hard the rest of the day, not speaking much, and halted to make camp as the sun was going down. Both of them were too weary to hunt for any fresh meat, so they simply took out some dried meat, apples, and bread. Arthas stared at the loaf in his hand. From the ovens of the palace, baked with grain grown locally-not from Andorhal. It was wholesome fare, nourishing and delicious, smelling yeasty and good and not sickly sweet. A simple, basic food, something that everyone, anyone, anyone, should be able to eat without fear. should be able to eat without fear.

His throat suddenly closed up and he placed the bread down, unable to eat a bite, and he put his head in his hands. For a moment he felt overwhelmed, as if a tidal wave of despair and helplessness washed over him. Then Jaina was there, kneeling beside him, resting her head on his shoulder while he struggled to compose himself. She said nothing; she did not need to, her simple, supportive presence was all he needed. Then with a deep sigh he turned to her and took her in his arms.

She responded, kissing him deeply, needing comfort and rea.s.surance from him as much as he did from her. Arthas ran his hands through her silky golden hair and breathed her scent. And for a few brief hours that night, they permitted themselves to be lost in each other, pushing away thoughts of death and horror and plagued grain and prophets and choices, their world narrow and tender and comprised only of the two of them.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Still half asleep, Jaina awoke and reached out a hand for Arthas. He was not there. Blinking, she sat up. He was already awake and dressed, cooking some sort of hot cereal for them. He smiled when he saw her, but it didn't reach his eyes. Jaina tentatively returned the smile and reached for her robe, slipping it on and combing her hair with her fingers.

"There's something I learned," Arthas said without preamble. "Last night-I didn't want to mention it. But you need to know." His voice was flat and Jaina felt something inside her quail. At least he wasn't screaming, like he had been yesterday-but somehow this was worse. He ladled up a bowl of steaming grains and brought it over to her. She spooned it automatically into her mouth as he continued to speak.

"This plague-the undead-" He took a deep breath. "We knew that the grain was plagued. We knew that it killed people. But it's worse than that, Jaina. It doesn't just kill them."

The words seemed to catch in his throat. Jaina sat there for a moment, as understanding dawned. She thought she'd throw up the grains she'd just eaten. Her breath seemed to come with difficulty.

"It...turns them, somehow. It makes them into the undead...doesn't it?" Please tell me I'm wrong, Arthas. Please tell me I'm wrong, Arthas.

He didn't. Instead he nodded his golden head. "That's why there were so many of them so quickly. The grain reached Hearthglen a short time ago-long enough to be milled into flour and baked into bread."

Jaina stared at him. The implications of this-she couldn't even wrap her mind around them.

"That's why I rushed off yesterday. I knew I couldn't take Mal'Ganis by myself, but-Jaina, I just couldn't sit around and-and mend armor and make camp, you know?" She nodded dumbly. She did understand, now. "And that prophet-I don't care how powerful you think he is. I can't just leave and let all of Lordaeron turn into this-this-Mal'Ganis, whatever, whomever he is, has got to be stopped. We've got to find every last crate of this plagued grain and destroy it."

The telling of this shocking information seemed to agitate Arthas again, and he got to his feet, pacing. "Where the h.e.l.l is Uther?" he said. "He had all night to ride here."

Jaina placed aside the half-eaten cereal, got to her feet, and finished dressing. Her mind was working a thousand miles a minute, trying to comprehend the situation fully and dispa.s.sionately, trying to think of some way to combat it. Wordlessly they broke camp and headed for Stratholme.

The ashy grayness of dawn only darkened as the clouds closed off the sun. Rain began to fall, chilly and stinging. Both Arthas and Jaina flipped the hoods of their cloaks up, but that did little to keep Jaina dry, and she was shivering by the time they reached the gates of the great city. Almost as they drew rein, Jaina heard sounds behind her and turned to see Uther and his men coming up the dirt road that was now almost pure mud. By this point, Arthas had worked himself up again, and he turned to Uther with a bitter grin.

"Glad you could make it, Uther," he snapped.

Uther was a patient man, but he lost his temper now. Arthas and Jaina were not the only ones under strain. "Watch your tone with me, boy! You may be the prince, but I'm still your superior as a paladin!"

"As if I could forget," Arthas retorted. He moved quickly to the top of a rise, so he could look over the walls and into the city. He didn't know what he was looking for. Signs of life, of normalcy, perhaps. Signs that they'd gotten here in time. Anything to give him hope that he could still somehow do something. "Listen, Uther, there's something about the plague you should know. The grain-"

The wind shifted as he spoke, and the scent that reached his nostrils was not an unpleasant one. Nonetheless, Arthas felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. The smell, the strange, unique scent of bread baked with the tainted grain, unmistakable on the air damp with rain.

Light, no. Already milled, already baked, already- The blood drained from Arthas's face. His eyes widened, staring starkly in horrified comprehension. "We're too late. We're too d.a.m.ned late! The grain-these people-" He tried again. "These people have all been infected."

"Arthas-" Jaina began in a low voice.

"They may look fine now, but it's just a matter of time before they turn into the undead!"

"What?" cried Uther. "Lad, have you gone insane?"

"No," Jaina said. "He's right. If they've eaten the grain, they're infected-and if they're infected...they'll turn." She was thinking furiously. There had to be something they could do. Antonidas once told her, if a thing is magical in origin, then magic can combat it. If they just had a little time to think, if they could calm down and react from logic and not emotion, perhaps a cure could- "This entire city must be purged."

Arthas's statement was blunt and brutal. Jaina blinked. Surely he hadn't meant that.

"How can you even consider that?" Uther cried, marching up to his former student. "There's got to be some other way. This isn't a blighted apple crop, this is a city full of human beings!"

"d.a.m.n it, Uther! We have to do it!" Arthas shoved his face within an inch of Uther's, and for a dreadful moment Jaina was convinced they'd draw weapons on each other.

"Arthas, no! We can't do that!" The words left her lips before she could stop them. He whirled on her, his sea-colored eyes now stormy with anger and hurt and despair. She realized immediately that he truly thought this was the only option-the only way to save other, uncorrupted lives was to sacrifice these cursed ones, these that could no longer be salvaged. His face softened slightly as she rushed on, trying to get the words out before he could interrupt her. "Listen to me. We don't know how many people are infected. Some of them might not have eaten any of the grain at all-others might not have eaten a lethal dose. We don't even know what a lethal dose is is yet. We know so little-we can't just slaughter them like animals out of our own fear!" yet. We know so little-we can't just slaughter them like animals out of our own fear!"

It was the wrong thing to say, and she watched as Arthas's face closed up. "I'm trying to protect the innocent, Jaina. That's what I swore to do."

"They are are innocent-they're victims! They didn't ask for this! Arthas, there are children in there. We don't know if it affects them. There's too much unknown for such a-a drastic solution." innocent-they're victims! They didn't ask for this! Arthas, there are children in there. We don't know if it affects them. There's too much unknown for such a-a drastic solution."

"What of those who are are infected?" he asked with a sudden, frightening quiet. "They'll kill those children, Jaina. They'll try to kill us...and spread out from here and keep killing. They're going to die regardless, and when they rise, they'll do things that in life they would never, ever have wanted to do. What would you choose, Jaina?" infected?" he asked with a sudden, frightening quiet. "They'll kill those children, Jaina. They'll try to kill us...and spread out from here and keep killing. They're going to die regardless, and when they rise, they'll do things that in life they would never, ever have wanted to do. What would you choose, Jaina?"

She hadn't expected that. She looked from Arthas to Uther, then back again. "I-I don't know."

"Yes, you do." He was right, and despairingly, she knew it. "Wouldn't you rather die now than die from this plague? Die a clean death as a thinking, living human being rather than be raised as an undead to attack everyone, everything you loved in life?"

Her face crumpled. "I...that would be my personal choice, yes. But we can't make that choice for them. Don't you see?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't see. We need to purge this city before any of them have a chance to escape and spread the contagion. Before any of them turn. It's a kindness and it's the only solution to stop this plague right here, right now, dead in its tracks. And that is exactly what I intend to do."

Tears of anguish burned in Jaina's eyes.

"Arthas-give me a little time. Just a day or two. I can teleport back to Antonidas and we can call an emergency meeting. Maybe we can figure out some way to-"

"We don't have have a day or two!" The words exploded from Arthas. "Jaina, this affects people within hours. Maybe minutes. I-I saw it at Hearthglen. There's no time for deliberation or discussion. We have to act. Now. Or it will be too late." He turned to Uther, dismissing Jaina. a day or two!" The words exploded from Arthas. "Jaina, this affects people within hours. Maybe minutes. I-I saw it at Hearthglen. There's no time for deliberation or discussion. We have to act. Now. Or it will be too late." He turned to Uther, dismissing Jaina.

"As your future king, I order order you to purge this city!" you to purge this city!"

"You're not my king yet, boy boy! Nor would I obey that command even if you were!"

The silence that fell crackled with tension.