Thrall - Christie Golden [103]
The bronze head opened its mouth and breathed out sand, scouring her, while black jaws closed on a wing, bit down hard, and ripped. Ysera cried out and pulled free, leaving a chunk of wing in her attacker’s mouth. Quickly she healed herself from both injuries, but in that precious moment the other two heads ceased struggling with Alexstrasza and Kalecgos, and all five converged on the green Aspect, who was now clearly fighting for her life.
Thrall held fast to Torastrasza as she dipped and dove. He continued to use the Doomhammer when he could, but the twilight dragons were now prepared for such attacks. When Torastrasza drew near them with the orc on her back, the twilights made certain they were not in corporeal form, fighting only with their ugly, purple-hued magic. Thrall realized that he needed to use his shamanic skills now, and opened himself to the elements.
He reached out with his mind. I fight to save all of you, all the elementals. All of this wounded land. Come to my aid, that I may protect you!
Erratic they were at first, but Thrall put all of his urgency into his plea. And finally they obeyed. A wind elemental took the shape of a cyclone, picking up enormous boulders and hurtling toward Thrall’s foes. Gusts of air came to his call, microbursts that caught spread wings and sent their owners slamming into one another. Blinding snow swirled up to envelop them, only to turn to boiling water that targeted open eyes.
Together, he and Torastrasza slew several of the twilight dragons. Then suddenly the great red dragon dropped in a tightly controlled dive. Thrall wondered what she was doing, and then realized. She was flying close to land, targeting the cluster of Twilight’s Hammer cultists, opening her mammoth jaws and spewing flame. Their robes caught quickly, and they screamed in torment. It would seem, Thrall thought darkly, that not all of the cultists were so willing to sacrifice themselves when actually faced with death in the form of a huge, angry red dragon.
Torastrasza wheeled and rose, almost lazily, curving around the temple to the other side. Again she flew low, breathing fire on the screaming cultists, then caught the wind as lithely as a sparrow and rose gracefully to rejoin the battle in the air.
Thrall glanced over at the battle with Chromatus, and his heart sank. He could see that all three of the Aspects had been wounded—burned, frozen, crippled, injured in some other way. And Chromatus seemed barely touched. Even as Thrall watched, the dragon threw back two of his heads and laughed.
“Life is sweet, to offer such entertainment!” he bellowed. “Come for me again! Let us play some more!”
Ysera veered erratically away. She flew close to Thrall before heading back—long enough for him to catch fear and despair in her brilliant eyes.
Kirygosa’s words came back to him: He was made … for you. All of you. He was brought to life with a specific purpose: to destroy the Aspects!
They fell almost like raindrops, the reds and blues and greens. Wyrmrest Temple might now just as well have been called Wyrmrest Abattoir.
This couldn’t be happening! Three Aspects and their flights—certainly the number of cultists and twilight dragons was dropping, but Chromatus seemed to be gaining strength the longer the battle continued.
Where were the bronzes? Nozdormu had said he would come. They were desperately needed now. With another Aspect, perhaps that would be enough to emerge victorious. Thrall looked around wildly, hoping against hope that—
There was a dark smudge against the evening sky now. More twilight dragons? And then Thrall realized