Thrall Twilight of the Aspects

by Christie Golden

  “So much is clear now,” he said. “We know that a chromatic dragon exists. And while I am horrified to learn that Kirygosa has been … tortured in so dreadful a fashion, I am deeply glad she yet lives. When the sanctums were destroyed, we were in ignorance. To our minds, there was no reason for Korialstrasz to behave as he had. But now we know. We understand.”

  “If all is indeed as was said,” said one of the older blues. Thrall recognized him as Teralygos, one who had stood staunchly by Arygos. “All we have is a so-called vision. There is no proof that any of this happened.”

  “She is Alexstrasza,” said Narygos. “She is an Aspect … the Life-Binder!”

  “And it is very convenient that she happened to have a vision—no, wait, that an orc came along at just the right time to tell her of a vision that exonerates her mate,” continued the older blue. “What say you if I have a vision that Alexstrasza is making this up? Or has gone mad? That perhaps the vanished Kirygosa, who—”

  “Can verify all that the Life-Binder has said,” came a thin, fragile voice. Another one of the blues alighted, and he bore on his back a human girl.

  Thrall recognized her at once: it was Kirygosa, from his vision.

  “Kiry!” cried Kalec. Thrall slid off his shoulder quickly, and Kalec transformed into his half-elven shape as Kirygosa unsteadily dismounted. He raced to her, catching her up in his arms and hugging her tightly. She smiled faintly at him and others who hurried up to her, looking weary and painfully thin, but clearly happy to be with her flight again.

  “Are you all right?” Kalec asked, concerned. “After what they … did to you?”

  “Now that I am free, I will be,” Kirygosa said, leaning on Kalecgos. “As I said … what Thrall saw about me in his vision is true. I believe the vision about Korialstrasz to be true as well.” She looked up at the great red dragon smiling benevolently down at her. “My lady, I grieve for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Kirygosa,” Alexstrasza said. Her voice was heavy with sorrow but not despair. Not anymore. “And I grieve for yours.”

  Kalec’s worried frown deepened. “Do you know about Arygos?” he asked Kiry quietly.

  Kirygosa nodded. “Yes. He was betrayed by the Twilight Father, and slain by a human assassin named Blackmoore. I understand this Blackmoore had also been sent to kill you, Thrall,” she said, turning to the only orc present. “I am relieved to see he has not succeeded. The Twilight Father and Deathwing both fear you. I am glad you are on our side.”

  “Come, sit and rest,” Kalecgos urged. “Eat something and tell us what you know.”

  “The chain …” Kiry reached with fumbling fingers and pulled out a slender silver chain that hung around her neck, a simple-looking thing. Kalec clearly understood at once what it was. “I tried so hard to break it—”

  “I know,” Kalec said gently. “Dar’Khan once placed such a collar on me. I well know your fear and frustration, dear sister. One I cared for freed me … and now I free you.”

  Gently, he grasped the necklace between his thumb and forefinger. With the faintest of tugs, the blue Dragon Aspect snapped the chain as if it were nothing more than an ordinary piece of jewelry. Kirygosa sobbed joyfully. The others backed up, smiling, to give her room as she shifted into her true form. Thrall smiled to himself as he watched her rise into the air, flying weakly but spiritedly, free once more.

  * * *

  Kirygosa was attended to. Thrall helped to heal her while Kalecgos conjured meat and drink for her. Alexstrasza and Ysera stood beside her in their humanoid forms, offering what comfort they could. Thrall was surprised to see Ysera’s preferred shape. She had first appeared to him in night elf form. She still had the dark-purple skin and long ears of the kaldorei, but the crown of fierce horns that adorned her green hair marked her true nature. A few other dragons, some in humanoid forms, others in their draconic shapes, gathered around as Kirygosa’s brutal story unfolded.

  “I will tell you all I know, and hope that something I say can help you,” she told them. “There is much that … to be honest, does not give me cause for hope.”

  “You escaped, which should have been nearly impossible,” Kalecgos said. “I, for one, find great hope in that fact.”

  She tried to smile, but something deeply worried her. “I thank you for that, but … well, you will understand what I mean.”

  “Start at the beginning,” Alexstrasza said. “How were you captured?”

  “After the loss of Jarygos … my mate … Arygos tricked me into accompanying him. He turned me over to the human—for I know he is human—known as the Twilight Father. The Twilight Father and Arygos were working with the twilight dragonflight—and with Deathwing.”

  The three Aspects exchanged glances. “The first attack,” Alexstrasza said, “the one who taunted us—he named himself the Twilight Father.”

  “Go on, dear one,” said Ysera gently.

  “They kept me imprisoned in my dragon form until my eggs were safely laid, then they put that chain on me.” Kiry winced, recalling it.

  “Easier to control you in human form,” said Kalec. “I know.”

  She nodded. “They began experiments—on me, on my children …” Her voice caught for a moment. Alexstrasza laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Kiry gave her a faint smile and continued.

  “That, Life-Binder, was what Korialstrasz stumbled upon. They had improved the odds of creating healthy chromatic dragons by experimenting on my children. It seems that, as I am a child of Malygos, my children are stronger. Korialstrasz dealt them a serious blow by eliminating their prospective army. Another blow was dealt when Arygos failed to become the Aspect. He had promised to deliver all of the blue flight into the Twilight Father’s hands.”

  “We will never know if Arygos was sane when he made that bargain,” said Kalec with quiet fury. “But, for the sake of his memory, let us hope he was not.”

  Kirygosa nodded, composing herself with a visible effort. “He was certainly devoted to the cult, but beyond that, I cannot say.”

  “What he did to you—”

  “It is done, and over,” she said, and Thrall realized that she was trying to reassure Kalecgos, even after all she had endured. She was unspeakably brave.

  “So two blows were dealt to their plans. But they still had Chromatus.” Her voice broke, and she struggled visibly to regain her composure.

  “I don’t know where they found him. The cultists brought him all the way to Northrend, knowing that they needed vast stores of arcane energy to give him the spark of life. And for that, they needed a surge needle created from the blood of a child of Malygos.”

  “Then—forgive me,” said Thrall, “but … why did they not use your blood for that purpose sooner?”

  “I believe they wanted to wait until Arygos brought them the blues,” she said. “Think of what a sight that would have made: Chromatus would have first been beheld by his enemies at full strength, at the forefront of a vast dragon army. I do not think the Twilight Father originally intended to kill Arygos. But when my brother failed, the Twilight Father made sure he still had a use. He made sure I did, too. I escaped before they tried to—to breed me to that thing.”

  Thrall was appalled. The two female Aspects looked ill, and Thrall realized that if the Twilight Father were to suddenly appear right now, Kalec would likely cheerfully have ripped him apart. And Thrall would have joined in.

  “It could have worked, too,” Kiry continued. “I could have been the mother of an entire new flight of abominations. Chromatus was the final experiment of Nefarian—who, as I have learned, also lives. After a fashion. He has been reanimated, but not brought to life as Chromatus has been.”

  “Nefarian is an undead atrocity, then.” While Kirygosa had spoken, other dragons had drawn close to listen, and now a large red moved his massive frame to stand protectively over Alexstrasza and Kirygosa—both with hearts and spirits terribly wounded, and yet both so strong. The red continued: “Is he here as well?”


  Kiry shook her head. “No, I think Deathwing has other plans for him. Chromatus will be enough. Kalec—you surprised him last time. He was but newly born. And even so …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Even so, my entire flight was defeated,” Kalec finished for her.

  “You do not stand alone now, Kalecgos,” Alexstrasza reassured him. “Three full flights stand together. He may have been able to defeat one flight, but three? Long has it been since we fought so, and I do not think, monstrous as he is, one single dragon can stand against all of us!”

  Kirygosa seemed agitated at the words and grasped Alexstrasza’s hand. “Life-Binder,” she said, “He—he was made … for you.” She looked at Kalec and Ysera as well. “All of you. He is more than just an exceptionally powerful chromatic dragon. He was brought to life with a specific purpose: to destroy the Aspects!”

  Thrall opened his mouth in an automatic denial, then closed it. He had seen Chromatus. He saw what the monster could do. At full health, with the abilities of each flight his own—

  “So it is true,” said Ysera, looking stricken. “My vision is true.”

  Alexstrasza reached out her other hand to Ysera. “Speak, Sister,” she implored.

  “I had hoped … I was wrong. …” Ysera closed her eyes and spoke in a dreamy, singsong voice. It was not a spell, not in the truest sense of the word, but the scene she described had an enchantment all its own. Thrall could almost see what she spoke of in his own mind: the death of all things, save the twilight dragonflight. No plants, no beasts, no beings, no living thing at all drew breath save them. And each of the Aspects lay dead and stiffening.

  Even the darkest, cruelest one of all. The one who had helped make the monster that brought it about.

  Deathwing.

  Thrall trembled and felt cold sweat trickling over his skin. Panic threatened to seize his throat. Others around him lifted their voices in fear, in anger, in grim acceptance, but one voice rang out clearly.

  “It is not our doom!”

  The voice belonged to the Life-Binder. She stood, still in her humanoid form, still holding the hands of her sister and the traumatized Kirygosa. Her face was bright with resolve and passion. “We have already seen that we have disrupted this grandiose plan of Deathwing’s. Arygos’s failure. Kiry’s escape. The blues attacking Chromatus before he was fully ready. No, this is not set in stone. Ysera’s visions always have meaning, yes. But dreams always rely on interpretation. Sister—could this be a warning as to what might happen if we do not fight?”

  Ysera cocked her horned head. “Yes,” she said. “Only Nozdormu knows what will truly be. I only share what I saw.”

  “Then let us resolve now,” Alexstrasza said, “that we will set to this fight with all we have. Every blue, every green, every red dragon—know that you fight not only for your lives but for all life. All things. We will take on this so-called Aspect slayer, and we will show the Twilight Father and Deathwing himself that we will not be cowed. No matter what we have lost—or stand to lose—the thing we will not lose is our world. Chromatus will fall!”

  And the hope that Thrall felt swell about him was so real, so sincere, he could taste it, and he lifted his own orcish voice in the cry of determination and will that filled the air.

  TWENTY

  Despite her ordeal, Kirygosa was more than eager—and able—to help plan the attack. Thrall noticed that even those who had once supported Arygos gravitated to her. The process of winning the heart and soul of the blues, begun with Kalec and his joyous ascent to Aspect in the light of two moons, was cemented by bearing witness to Kirygosa’s calm courage.

  The three Aspects, Thrall, Kirygosa, and a few representatives from each flight, all in humanoid forms, gathered together to begin strategizing in earnest. All present knew the layout of Wyrmrest Temple, and Kirygosa was able to tell them exactly what was now where. Here was where Chromatus rested and recovered—“More with each passing hour,” she warned them darkly. There was where the Twilight Father spent most of his time. All beasts of burden and mounts were in another area, and she was able to give a solid approximation of the number of cultists and dragons the three flights were likely to encounter.

  “Are there any weaknesses we can exploit?” asked the red dragon Torastrasza.

  “The Twilight Father is human,” Kirygosa replied. “He is older, with a weathered face and a gray beard, and he is extremely arrogant. I know that he is powerful in his own right, and that those he leads know nothing about his true loyalties.”

  “He is a leader?” asked Thrall. “A military commander, perhaps?”

  “He does strike me as a military man,” Kirygosa said, “but I admit I know little about humans. One thing I do know: he fears Deathwing.”

  “As all sane beings should,” murmured Ysera, and she ducked her head in sorrow.

  “It may make him overconfident,” mused Torastrasza. “He may make foolish errors.”

  “I am not certain that any amount of overconfidence will be detrimental to him with such an ally as Chromatus,” said Thrall. “You did not witness the battle against the blues. We now have greater numbers and different methods of attacking. But we should not underestimate him.”

  “Too, the cultists will gladly die for him,” said Kirygosa. “They will fight until they are slain.”

  “Is the Twilight Father relying solely on Chromatus and the twilight dragons, or is there other weaponry?” asked Alexstrasza.

  “They do not have any truly devastating weapons for ground or air combat,” Kirygosa said. “But I do not know that they will need them. They have an entire flight, and Chromatus with all his heads—each one with a brain that knows all the skills of its flight.”

  Everyone fell silent at that simple but powerful observation.

  “It seems we know our foe,” said Alexstrasza at last. “Kiry, is Chromatus under the Twilight Father’s control in any way?”

  The blue dragon shook her head. “No, he is his own self. He is very dear to Deathwing, who has great pride—and great plans—for him.”

  “Then we three Aspects will take him as our primary target,” said Alexstrasza. “Whatever else they may send at us, we need to concentrate all our efforts on him. The rest of our flights need to keep us from being distracted by other attacks. If he is so prized by Deathwing, his death will be more than a tactical victory. We can always retreat and return later to deal with the Twilight Father and the cultists. But Chromatus must die.”

  All the assembled dragons nodded in agreement, as did Thrall.

  Chromatus must indeed die. Or else the cultists, whose focus was the end of everything, might see their goal realized all too soon.

  The Twilight Father had instructed that the bodies of Zuuzuu and Josah be unceremoniously removed, and had ordered all of the cultists to submit to a beating. They had done so with perfect obedience, of course, and he had taken rather petty solace in their cries of pain.

  How could they have let this happen? Kirygosa was a single being, only as strong as a human in that form. She shouldn’t have been able to overpower even one of them, let alone both. And who had been so stupid as to not be watching the wyverns? No one had admitted to such an egregious lack of observation.

  “We have lost our chance to breed the future,” Chromatus growled when the Twilight Father had come to give him the bad news. “And if she survives, she can reveal information that could possibly harm us.”

  The thought had already occurred to the Twilight Father. With a confidence he did not feel, he said, “What can she tell them? They know we are here; they already know about you. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. She knows that you were weak at the time they attacked, and yet you utterly defeated them. I think the news she brings them—if she survives—will only discourage them. And when we win, if she survives, you will still be able to father an entire flight of chromatic dragons.”

  Chromatus eyed the smaller figure. “That is possible. But any strategic advantage we give them is to
be deplored. I am sure Deathwing will be most unhappy to hear of this.”

  To that comment, the Twilight Father had no response.

  They came at dusk.

  The already darkening sky was made black with their approach, and the sound of hundreds of beating wings vibrated through the air as the foolish dragonflights drew closer.

  The Twilight Father was excited. Surely Chromatus’s rumbled words of warning were overly conservative. In the rays of the dying sun, he could count three colors of dragons bearing down upon the temple. So, the bronzes were still hanging back, their leader nowhere in sight. Even better.

  There was an answering beat of wings as his own army of twilight dragons lifted into the sky. Behind them, flying almost lazily, was Chromatus.

  The Twilight Father could not suppress a grin. Let them come. Let them come to their destruction. Chromatus would vanquish them, and the Twilight Father would report the deaths of no fewer than three Aspects this night.

  Thrall was not astride Kalecgos, not this time. Torastrasza, who he had learned was Alexstrasza’s right hand—foreclaw?—in military matters, had agreed to bear Thrall upon her back. The Aspects needed to be free to concentrate their attack on Chromatus. They could not be even briefly distracted by worry about his fate—or, indeed, the fate of any of them.

  Thrall completely understood. He would contribute as best he could, without causing any of the Aspects to waste a moment worrying about him.

  He was still in the front line as they descended once again on Wyrmrest. They were met by the first wave of twilight dragons, the beautiful yet horrific beings heading straight for the three Aspects. At once, though, the twilight dragons came under attack. The dragons of the various flights harried them, drawing their attention away from the Aspects. The greens used poison breath or, even worse, their ability to direct nightmares. At least, that was what Thrall assumed when he saw two twilight dragons suddenly shriek and flee erratically, as if something unspeakably terrifying was after them.