WarCraft: War of The Ancients Book Two. Richard A. Knaak
“‘This pause’? What do you mean?”
“The others are still divided as to what to do about the demons. We will fight them, yes, but we are creatures of individual spheres of power. It is difficult for us to work in harmony, for we all feel we know what is best to do.”
The news did nothing to temper Malfurion’s uncertainties. First the dragons had failed to show any inclination to battle the Burning Legion, and now even the demigods, the guardians of the natural world, could not agree on the proper course of action. Truly, it was all up to the night elves … likely Malfurion and his comrades, in particular.
“Our time together will not be long. There are some things that I must quickly try to teach you. We will need use of the entire day—”
“Out of the question!” blurted Captain Shadowsong, surprising himself. “My orders are—”
With a benevolent smile, the woodland deity trotted toward the soldier. Jarod’s face paled as Cenarius loomed over him.
“He will be protected while he is with me and will be back when he is needed by your commander, Jarod Shadowsong. You will not be shirking your responsibility.”
The officer shut his mouth, already clearly dumbfounded that he had dared interrupt Cenarius in the first place.
“Return to your other charges. I will see to it that Malfurion comes back safe and sound.”
The druid felt as if the pair discussed a child, but the demigod’s words were evidently what Jarod had wanted precisely to hear. He nodded to Cenarius, turning the nod into a bow at the last moment. “As you say, my lord.”
“I am not your lord, night elf. I am Cenarius only! Go with my blessing!”
With one last awed glance at Malfurion and his teacher, the captain turned his night saber and rode off toward the night elven host.
Cenarius turned back to his student. “Now, my thero’shan, we must begin in earnest.”
All congeniality vanished from the deity’s expression. “For I fear we will need all the knowledge we have if we are to save our world from the demons …”
At that moment, another who feared they would need all that they could gather to defeat the Burning Legion flew over the realm of the dragons, seeking the lofty mountain peak where his kind made their homes.
Korialstrasz had spent his long flight considering many things. The silence of his brethren was one. Dragons were reclusive, but never had he encountered such utter quiet. No one responded to his summons, not even his beloved mate, Alexstrasza.
This caused him to think of the demons. He could not believe that they could have attacked and destroyed the dragons, but the lack of communication left that fear alive. He almost wished that Krasus had accompanied him, for at least then there would have been one other red dragon with whom to discuss the dire thoughts.
But Krasus himself was a subject on par with all else. More and more, Korialstrasz had begun eliminating the possible theories concerning this enigmatic dragon to whose words even Alexstrasza paid close attention. She did so as if Krasus were the equal to her consorts, even perhaps was one. Yet, this could not be … unless …
No … that is not possible, the soaring behemoth thought. It is too extraordinary …
Still, it would explain so very much.
He would confront Alexstrasza with his thoughts once he found her. Korialstrasz banked, turning toward the familiar, mist-enshrouded mountain. Unlike all times past, there were no sentinels keeping watch, yet another ominous sign.
The great red dragon descended toward the high cavern mouth used as one of the main entrances to the sanctum. As he alighted, he turned his massive head back and forth, seeking some sign of his fellows. The area was deathly silent.
But as he folded his wings and moved forward, he collided with a sudden, distinct force invisible to all his other senses. It felt as if the air had taken on a thickness akin to honey. With great determination, Korialstrasz threw himself forward, barreling into the unseen wall as he would against a rival dragon.
Slowly it gave way. He felt it press around his body as he advanced, almost enveloping him. The dragon had difficulty breathing, and his view became as if he saw the world from under water. Yet still Korialstrasz did not falter.
And suddenly, without warning, he was through.
Sounds instantly filled his ears. Bereft of any barrier, the leviathan fell forward. He would have landed headfirst, but huge paws caught him.
“It is good that you are back,” a deep voice rumbled. “We feared for you, young one.”
Tyranastrasz lifted him up, the reptilian countenance of Alexstrasza’s senior consort filled with concern. Behind him, other dragons moved about through the system of tunnels … and what surprised Korialstrasz most about the activity was the fact that there were dragons of other colors. He saw blue, green, bronze, and, of course, red. The dragons intermingled constantly, all seeming on some task and all obviously quite anxious.
“Alexstrasza! Is she—”
“She is well, Korialstrasz. She gave word that she would speak with you the moment that you returned …” The larger male glanced at the younger’s shoulder, seeking something. “… and Krasus, too, but I see that he is not with you.”
“He would not leave the others.”
“But your condition—”
Flexing his wings, Korialstrasz replied, “He has devised a manner by which we are both nearly whole. It is not perfect, but it is the best we could do.”
“Most interesting …”
“Tyran … what happens here? Why are the other flights among our own?”
The elder consort’s expression grew veiled. “She has commanded that she be the one to tell you all and I will not disobey her.”
“Of course not.”
With Tyranastrasz in the lead, the pair wended their way into the lair of the red flight. Korialstrasz could not help but eye the other dragons as they passed among them. The greens were mere flitting shadows, gone before one realized they were even there, and made more disconcerting by the fact that they ever kept their eyes closed, as if sleepwalking. The bronze figures of Nozdormu’s flight seemed not to move at all, but somehow were elsewhere whenever he blinked. As for the blues, they appeared here, there, everywhere in almost random fashion, darting about through the use of magic as much as physical movement. The more Korialstrasz saw of them, the more he welcomed the stable, solid presence of his own kind. When they moved, they moved. When they rushed to one destination, he could follow their every step, see their every breath.
Of course, in all fairness, he suspected that the newcomers felt the same way about their respective flights.
So many different dragons, and yet we all fit in here, he suddenly thought. Are we so few as all that, then? Had they tried to crowd the night elves or dwarves in this mountain, either lesser race would have filled it to overflowing, yet the dragons ever found room to maneuver.
Thinking of the endless horde that was the Burning Legion, Korialstrasz wondered if even the dragons had the strength to stop them.
But as he entered the next chamber, his fears melted away. She stood there as if waiting for him in particular. Her simple presence filled the male with calm, with peace. When she looked his way, Korialstrasz felt confidence. All would be well. The Queen of Life would see that it was so.
“Korialstrasz … my beloved.” Only her eyes gave indication of how much force that simple sentence had. The lesser creatures might often see dragons only as savage beasts, but even the best of them could not possibly match the intensity of emotions Korialstrasz’s kind wielded.
“My queen, my