Thrall - Christie Golden [114]
Kalec bent his great head down, and in the first hints of the warm rose light of dawn, Thrall was certain he saw a single tear shining in the bright eyes as the blue Aspect offered a scale from over his heart.
“You, without any doubt or exaggeration, have saved the blue dragonflight. Anything you ask of me, you will have.”
Thrall was almost overcome. He took a moment, struggling for composure.
“While I am grateful for the gift of a scale from each of your flights, truly, I ask only your friendship,” he said to them all. “And”—he smiled a little—“a way to return to my beloved.”
Thrall mused wryly that he was becoming used to traveling on dragonback. Particularly the back of this dragon. He and Tick had grown to become friends over the last several weeks of traveling and fighting together, and Thrall knew he would miss her. Thrall had been curious when Tick had offered to return him, concerned that the flight from the continents to the Maelstrom would be too far for an ordinary dragon to travel. Tick had chuckled.
“We have the ability to slow or speed up time, remember?” she told Thrall. “I will speed it up for us … and will therefore fly much faster and farther.” Thrall was, again, astonished and humbled by even the abilities of so-called ordinary dragons. And sure enough, after only what felt like a few moments, they were flying over the Maelstrom. Thrall felt the bronze inhale swiftly as she beheld the churning, angry whirlpool.
“So this is where Deathwing entered our world,” Tick muttered. “It is no wonder the earth is still in so much torment.”
“You sound like one of my tauren friends grieving for the Earth Mother.”
The great creature craned her neck to regard Thrall closely. “Who is to say they are wrong?”
Thrall laughed. “Not I,” he said. “Never I.”
There was a stable-looking spot some distance away from the main settlement. Carefully, mindful that the earth was unhappy, Tick made a gentle landing. Thrall slipped off the bronze’s back and regarded her for a long moment.
“You have earned the gratitude of our flights,” Tick said soberly. “You have the scales. Use them if you are in need of our aid, and you shall have it. I can only hope that this wounded Azeroth can benefit as much from your care and focus as we have.”
“You embarrass me, my friend. I only did what I could.”
A wry, amused expression crossed the scaly face. “You would be surprised at how few even attempt to do that much. You are home now, Thrall. I must return. The Hour of Twilight is still to come one day, and I must be ready to stand with my lord, Nozdormu, when that time comes. Thank you again … for helping us find ourselves and one another.”
She bent her head low, only a few short feet from the ground, in what Thrall knew to be a deep obeisance. He felt his cheeks grow hot and nodded, then watched as Tick gathered herself and leaped skyward. Squinting against the brightness of the sun, Thrall watched until the mighty dragon dwindled to the size of a bird, then an insect, and then vanished altogether.
Then, a solitary figure, he closed his eyes and, sending a whisper on the wind, called a wyvern to him. Patting the creature, Thrall climbed atop him and headed for the encampment.
Guards spotted him, and by the time Thrall reached the Earthen Ring encampment, many shaman were already gathered there.
“Welcome home,” rumbled Muln Earthfury, striding forward to grasp the orc’s shoulders. “Long have you been gone, but at last you are returned to us.”
Thrall smiled up at the tauren. “Sometimes lessons take time to learn,” he said quietly. “I think you will find that I have settled my own … demons, and return to you with knowledge and information that will benefit our workings—and our world.”
“I am even better pleased to hear that,” Muln replied. “Not just for the benefit it will bring to us, but from what I can sense from you, my friend. You are”—he cocked his horned head, searching for the right words—“settled. Calmer.