World of Warcraft: Dawn of the Aspects: Part I

by Knaak, Richard A.

  He marveled that she had the wherewithal to continue as she did, despite her grief for all those slain in Theramore and her remorse over what she had planned to do against Orgrimmar with the stolen Focusing Iris. Of course, that was also why he both admired and felt a bond with her. “I appreciate your concern, Jaina, but I am fine.”

  “Are you?” She leaned closer, almost seeming able to touch him. Her gaze bored into Kalec, who felt as if the mage could read into what passed for a dragon’s soul. “You aren’t sleeping enough. I can see that. You’re driving yourself too much. All this work can wait a little longer—”

  “It has to be done,” he blurted out too quickly.

  He was as surprised as she looked by the obvious bitterness tingeing his words. Jaina recovered almost immediately, compassion replacing the surprise. The compassion only made Kalec more abashed.

  “How are you?” he asked in a deliberate change of subject. “How fares the Kirin Tor?”

  Despite understanding just what he was doing, she allowed the change. “We still struggle to keep things together, but we’re doing it. You know as well as I do how things have turned upside down since your last visit. I’ve been forced to make some changes I don’t like, but they’re necessary.”

  When Jaina did not elaborate on those changes, Kalec did not press. He wanted very much to help her, but what could he, who could do nothing for himself, do for her?

  Perhaps it is time to end this, the dragon decided. Perhaps we can do nothing for one another—

  An image of the young Alexstrasza burned through his mind.

  Kalec could neither suppress a gasp nor keep his body from shivering. Unfortunately, Jaina noted both.

  “Kalec! Are you ill—”

  A dragon’s roar—or, more likely, a proto-dragon’s—drowned out whatever else she said. Still, the blue managed to put on a veneer of strength before the mage. “As you said, I’ve not gotten enough rest. My apologies for frightening you.”

  He tried very hard to sound indifferent, hoping that she would believe that he was well. Kalec was not certain if his thinking was clear, but he had to hope it was, for other sounds and images were already assailing him.

  Jaina remained where she was. Her expression was unreadable. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  The image of another proto-dragon corpse took his attention. There was something even more unsettling about this one, but the image vanished before Kalec could make sense of just what it was that bothered him. The sounds, especially the voices, grew maddening.

  “Yes!” he called too loudly. “Forgive me! I’ve a council to convene!”

  No longer caring if his excuses made sense, Kalec dismissed the vision of the mage. Jaina faded away just as she looked ready to say something. The former Aspect stumbled to the center of his sanctum, already reeling from the onslaught of voices and jumbled images. He was grateful that neither Jaina nor any of his dragonflight could see him staggering.

  Kalec fell to his knees. He managed to plant a hand against the smooth rock floor, a hand partially scaled and with long, wicked nails. Unable to focus, Kalec contorted as his body sought some balance between his true form and the humanoid one he had put on for Jaina’s sake. His mouth and nose stretched forward and his legs shrieked with pain as his knees shifted back and forth. It was one thing to simply change from one shape to another, but to keep shifting between them took a toll that he had never suffered before.

  It was finally too much. Kalec fell forward—

  And once again soared through the air as some part of the young Malygos.

  Time had shifted again. Alexstrasza no longer accompanied Malygos, but there were other proto-dragons in the sky, proto-dragons of at least six different colors. Despite their differences, they appeared disinclined to fight one another, although Kalec suspected that could always change.

  Malygos radiated agitation, which in turn overtook Kalec. What bothered Malygos was not clear to Kalec. The proto-dragon had buried his thoughts deep this time, even seeming not to want to deal with them himself.

  Part of the reason for so many different proto-dragons in the same region became obvious as a vast herd of huge beasts—some sort of brown, hairy caribou—raced along the low, grassy hills below. Two proto-dragons had already dived down and snatched up ready meals, but a smaller, yellowish female failed to judge her dive and almost collided with the ground.

  As she pulled up, she was joined by none other than Alexstrasza, who had just snatched up another of the grazers. Unlike the other hunters, the fire-orange female had quickly bitten through the neck where the animal’s great vein was located, killing it instantly. Kalec could sense Malygos’s amusement at such a tactic; most proto-dragons preferred their prey alive and fresh until the last moment. Alexstrasza, though, appeared to almost feel guilty about having to hunt at all.

  She tried to offer the meal to the smaller female—who clearly needed nourishment—but the yellowish proto-dragon instead snapped angrily at her. Rather than grow furious herself, Alexstrasza continued to patiently attend to her companion.

  Even now, she takes care of the helpless, Kalec thought with admiration, thinking of Alexstrasza as the Aspect of Life. Here, so very young, she still revealed far more concern for others than most.

  Malygos lost interest for the moment in the two females, forcing Kalec’s perspective to shift to watching other hunters. The proto-dragon took mild interest in a coarse brown male’s technique. The other male would hover over the running herd, then, seemingly prescient, dive toward it just as it made a sharp turn designed to put the winged predators off their mark. Not so the brown male. In fact, he seemed to know at just what angle and what speed the grazers would turn. Where more than one other hunter ended up only with mounds of torn dirt and grass, he plucked up two tasty morsels in rapid succession.

  Malygos admired the other’s cleverness and timing, then lost interest as two of the hunters who had failed to snag their quarry now hissed and spat at one another. No words passed between them. Like the gray male Kalec and his host had encountered previously, these proto-dragons were little better than the savage cats or wolves roaming other parts of the world. Malygos watched their angry fight with contempt, while Kalec again wondered why some proto-dragons had progressed toward sentience while others had not.

  A few other proto-dragons in the midst of devouring their meals also watched, some with clear intelligence, others like beasts wary that the fighters might try next to steal their food. One blue-green male sneered at the pair, then glared at Malygos when he realized Kalec’s host was watching him.

  Coros. The name came to mind as if Kalec knew the other male himself. Malygos obviously did, and the enmity between them was clear. Coros hissed at his rival, then thrust his muzzle into his fresh kill. The blue-green male ripped free a hefty portion of bloody meat, then chewed it while staring at Malygos as if it had been torn from the latter’s throat.

  Kalec sensed Malygos considering fighting Coros, but the dangerous train of thought was interrupted by the alighting of the small, yellowish female near him. She snorted in frustration as Alexstrasza, still gripping the carcass, landed next to her and across from Kalec’s host.

  “My brother . . .” began the smaller proto-dragon hesitantly. “My sister says you found him.”

  It startled both Malygos and Kalec that this was Alexstrasza’s sibling. Their colors were different, though her yellow tint was also not like that of the two other families Kalec knew existed thanks to Malygos. The only similarity between the females was their smooth, nearly glass-like skin, so different from the typical rough hide of most proto-dragons.

  “We were three in the clutch. Three to survive. Now, only two.”

  Malygos dipped his head in understanding. For proto-dragons a surviving clutch of only three eggs meant ill tidings for the family. Indeed, in many a healthy proto-dragon family, a sickly offspring such as the yellow female would have been slain at hatching.

  She seemed to
be waiting for some more elaborate response from Malygos. He finally said, “Your clutch brother. His death was strange.”

  It was certainly not how Kalec would have replied if he were in Malygos’s place, but Alexstrasza’s sister seemed pleased. “Yes! He died strangely! How did he die?”

  “I do not know.”

  The smaller female leaned closer. “There was another—”

  “No, Ysera!” interrupted Alexstrasza sharply. “We agreed that—”

  Whatever she said next was lost to Kalec, who took advantage of Malygos’s view to stare in amazement at yet another of the Great Aspects. Having known the Ysera of recent times—Ysera the Awakened—he could not imagine how this weaker creature could have become one of the most powerful forces in all Azeroth.

  Snapping and hissing brought Kalec’s attention back to what Malygos was experiencing. Alexstrasza and Ysera, their necks bent back, maneuvered as if seeking to fight one another. Each displayed her sharp teeth and claws to her utmost, even Ysera proving capable of an incredibly menacing showing. Several times both heads darted in, but then pulled back once more.

  Kalec knew such confrontations from his own kind and could generally recognize what was real and what was simply normal display, but with the sisters it was hard to tell. The jaws of both Ysera and Alexstrasza snapped dangerously close to the other’s throat and the claws scraped against hides more than once.

  And then . . . a sound louder than thunder stilled not only the sisters, but every proto-dragon in the vicinity.

  The sound erupted again, shaking the rocky ridges upon which Malygos and many of the other hunters perched. Several of the proto-dragons were cowed, and Kalec felt even Malygos fight not to prostrate himself.

  Only then did Kalec realize that the incredible noise was a gigantic roar.

  A vast region of the overcast sky broke away, descending with astonishing swiftness. The velocity caused the clouds to quickly scatter, revealing a sight that truly could daunt not only a proto-dragon, but even the most powerful of Kalec’s own kind.

  This was supposed to be a proto-dragon, but so immense was its size that not even a dragon could be chosen for an adequate comparison. Kalec could think of no creature save one that could be used . . . and that would have meant comparing Galakrond to himself.

  Even though Kalec had never seen the gigantic Galakrond in the flesh, the remote possibility that he would not have recognized this titanic being had been eliminated by Galakrond’s name racing over and over through Malygos’s mind. In addition, through his host’s brief glimpse away from the Father of Dragons to the other proto-dragons, Kalec saw that not one of the hunters remained in the sky. Galakrond now commanded the world above, and there was no proto-dragon foolish enough to challenge that rule.

  He swooped down, passing over the entire region in a matter of seconds. In Galakrond’s wake there came a vicious wind that even tore several proto-dragons from their roosts and sent more than one meal toppling to the ground far below. Galakrond’s roar was no less ground-shaking miles away, forcing Malygos and the sisters to grip their perches tighter.

  For such a colossal creature, Galakrond turned with remarkable agility. Once more, he passed over the now-panicking herd, but this time with intent. Galakrond seized up two caribou in each of his much larger hind paws and scooped up another whole in his gargantuan maw, then rose up. The grazer in his mouth vanished down his gullet and a moment later so did both of those in his left hind paw. By the time Galakrond leveled, all five of his catches were well on their way down to his stomach.

  But five was not enough. Galakrond veered back and lunged toward the scattering prey. This time, however, he suddenly pulled back. Confused at first, Kalec watched as the bending of the vast wings during the halt created a windstorm that sent dozens of beasts rolling uncontrollably.

  Before several of the caribou could rise to their feet, Galakrond plucked them up. With at least eight claimed that Kalec could see, the Father of Dragons soared back into the clouds.

  It was not until several seconds after Galakrond’s departure that the first proto-dragons dared move. There was no renewal of the hunt; not only were the caribou scattered so far and wide that pursuit would have required too much effort, but most of the proto-dragons were still too shaken up by Galakrond’s startling manifestation. Some took to the sky themselves and fled for calmer climes. Others remained subdued.

  The Father of Dragons . . . Kalec could still not believe the stunning image. To witness Galakrond alive was something he could never have imagined.

  The blue knew little of Galakrond save that he had been one of the largest beings to roam Azeroth and that he had represented the shift from proto-dragon to true dragon. It was not that Galakrond had actually fathered all true dragons—that was a myth somehow spread millennia ago—but that after him had come the five Aspects and their respective dragonflights. Proto-dragons had all but vanished after that.

  There were other legends concerning Galakrond, but, in truth, Kalec understood that only his three counterparts knew the truth. He had never thought to ask them about the Father of Dragons, but now wished that he had.

  Yet, Kalec’s momentary awe soon gave way again to his anger and frustration—and growing concern—over his being trapped in these ancient visions. Each one seemed more and more lifelike, as if his own time were the fantasy and this scene now were the true present.

  Not for the first time, he tried to will himself back, but nothing changed. He continued to be an insignificant, unnoticed phantasm trapped within Malygos. Not even Alexstrasza or Ysera—both of whom in the future would have abilities that should make them sense his presence—so much as glanced in curiosity at the male beside them.

  I will be free! Kalec abruptly roared, though his roar went unheard by any save himself. Bereft of a throat—or a body—he felt like nothing but a memory remembered by no one.

  Laughter filled his—or rather, Malygos’s—ears. Kalec at first thought that someone mocked him, but instead, the laughter was aimed at the other proto-dragons by a charcoal-gray male a bit larger than most, who actually sneered at the others.

  “Little hatchlings!” he bellowed. “Afraid of the sky! Afraid of the ground! Galakrond laughs at you for being afraid, and I, Neltharion, do, too!”

  Some of the proto-dragons hissed at the gray male, but no one challenged him. By their glances, they knew him to be strong and able to back up his taunt. Even those proto-dragons who clearly had little more intelligence than their prey appeared to know better than to fight—

  Neltharion? The name finally penetrated. Kalec sought in vain to seize control of Malygos’s body as the newcomer, still laughing, flew off. Where Galakrond had been a startling, unsettling thing of legend, this gray male represented a danger to the future of all life on Azeroth. If there was a creature more evil than Neltharion, Kalec could not think of one.

  Of course, by the blue’s time, the gray male would be better known by his more apt title . . . Deathwing.

  FOUR

  UNLIKELY ALLIES

  Azeroth had suffered many terrible times and menaces, the demons of the Burning Legion and the Sundering but two of the most devastating. Yet, to the dragons, to many inhabitants of the world, there had been no greater peril than the mad Aspect. From the War of the Ancients ten thousand years ago to recent times, he who had once been the Earth-Warder had sought the destruction of all things.

  Deathwing was gone now and at tremendous sacrifice, but Kalec, still able to watch Neltharion flying into the clouds through Malygos’s gaze, wondered how Azeroth would have fared if Deathwing had never been.

  Follow him! he urged Malygos, to no avail. Follow him and end the horror before it begins!

  His host did nothing. Malygos lost interest not only in Neltharion, but also in all else going on around him. Without a word to Alexstrasza or Ysera, he leapt into the air and headed to the north. A few proto-dragons nearby hissed at Malygos as he passed, but the icy-blue male ignored them. He h
ad eaten his fill and only wanted to curl up in his remote cavern for a long, pleasant nap while he digested his meal. That Kalec had no desire to do the same was, as usual, lost upon the proto-dragon.

  But suddenly something hard collided with Malygos from behind. He rolled in the sky, then began to plummet. As he struggled to regain control, both he and Kalec caught a glimpse of the cause of their troubles.

  Coros and another male of the same hue dived down to attack. Malygos managed to slow his descent, but could still not right himself. Coros and his comrade hissed eagerly as they neared.

  Malygos opened his mouth. A shower of icicles shot forth. Coros evaded them, but the other proto-dragon did not entirely avoid being struck. The icicles slashed through one wing.

  But once more Malygos was hit from behind as a third foe entered the fray. Kalec, helplessly watching, guessed that Coros had set up this attack before Galakrond’s appearance. From Malygos’s jumbled thoughts, Kalec picked up bits of a long rivalry over territory, prey, and who was more cunning. At the moment, it seemed that Coros had the advantage in the last.

  Coros exhaled, and what appeared to be a web of smoke enveloped Malygos. The icy-blue male fought for breath as the smoke sealed off his nostrils and mouth.

  Despite his wounds, the first of Coros’s companions reentered the struggle. With an eager expression, the proto-dragon opened wide as he sought Malygos’s throat.

  Thunder roiled . . . or rather a sound like thunder. Malygos’s wounded attacker dropped as if hit by a thousand dwarven hammers.

  A hearty laugh followed the jarring sound. Kalec saw a gray blur cross Malygos’s path, then collide with Coros.

  “You want a fight? Fight me!” cried Neltharion as he grappled with Malygos’s rival.

  This was a foe that Coros could not have counted on, but he did not back down. He opened wide . . . and Neltharion slammed the blue-green’s jaw up, closing the mouth at a critical moment.