Thrall - Christie Golden [11]
“It would indeed be a good thing if we could work together—even before this Hour of Twilight.” Alexstrasza regarded Kalec and Arygos. “The blues must determine how to select a new Aspect, and make restitution. You must show us that we can trust you again. Surely you see that.”
“We must?” echoed Arygos. “Why ‘must’ we, Alexstrasza? Who are you to determine what the blue flight must and must not do? To judge us so? You make no similar offer of restitution. Yet it is because of you that we need to find a new Aspect. What do you plan to do to show that you are to be trusted by us?”
Her eyes widened slightly at the insult, but Arygos plowed on. “How do we know you will not kill me? If I am chosen as Aspect, that is,” he added hastily. “And your mate, Krasus, as he likes to go by—he is no friend to the blues. He has spoken out against us repeatedly. I cannot help but notice that he is not present at this meeting. Perhaps you didn’t wish him to be here, either?”
“Korialstrasz saved your life, Arygos,” Kalecgos reminded him. “When your father was so lost in his insanity that he abandoned you.”
It was a very sore point for Arygos, and few were bold enough to remind him of it. The clutch of eggs that had contained both Arygos and Kirygosa had indeed been abandoned during Malygos’s madness. It was Korialstrasz who had discovered that untended clutch, as well as many others, and taken it to Nozdormu to be cared for. Later, the clutches had been given to the red dragonflight. It was a glowing example of cooperation among three separate flights with a common cause: care of the unhatched, helpless whelps, be they red, blue, green, or bronze when they emerged from the shell.
“And even though he and I have certainly had our personal disagreements, that has not stood in the way of my learning to respect him. I have consistently found him to be reasonable and wise,” Kalec continued as Arygos’s eyes narrowed. “He has said nothing against our flight’s behavior that I myself have not said.”
“Really? And what does that then make you, Kalecgos?” Arygos retorted.
“Enough!” snapped Alexstrasza. She had not expected this meeting to go particularly smoothly, but she had hoped for better than this bickering. “Surely the flights have enough enemies out there that we should not waste precious time fighting among ourselves! Deathwing is back, more powerful than ever—and he has ripped Azeroth nearly to bits in the process. Now he has allies beyond his own flight: the Twilight’s Hammer cult. Whatever the Hour of Twilight may be of which Ysera speaks, the twilight dragons are certainly an immediate threat. The Ruby Sanctum is still reeling from their previous assault. If we do not find out some way to put aside the petty differences and—”
“You murdered my father! How dare you call that petty?!”
Alexstrasza was slow to anger, but now she marched on the younger dragon and declared, “I say: enough! We must all move forward. The past is the past. We are in danger now. Did you not hear me? Do you not understand? Deathwing has returned!”
She was nearly nose to nose with Arygos now, her ears flat against her skull. “Our world has never been more fragile! Mighty beings are we dragons, indeed, but even we should be afraid of what will happen. We live in this world, Arygos. We must protect it, heal it, or even the dragons—including your blues!—will be destroyed. We must find—”
Other heads lifted on sinuous necks, turned skyward. And then Alexstrasza, too, heard and saw them.
Dragons.
For a brief moment, Alexstrasza dared hope that it was the bronze dragonflight. But an instant later she saw their coloration, and realized with horror what flight it truly was.
“The twilight dragons,” she breathed.
They were coming for Wyrmrest Temple itself.
THREE
It was not in the manner Alexstrasza would have wished, but it did seem that the sudden presence of the twilight dragonflight galvanized the other flights into unified action. Without another breath wasted in argument among themselves, they