Thrall - Christie Golden [61]
For an instant he wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. Instantly the blues looked angry, and one of them darted off and wheeled before returning, visibly needing to calm himself.
“That traitor would have seen all of our flight destroyed,” one of them growled, his voice as cold as the blue ice he so resembled. “We will bring word of your coming to the others. Tarry here until we bid you approach closer or order you to leave.”
The blues dove off, azure shapes against a dark blue and lavender sky. To Thrall’s surprise, they did not alight on one of the floating tiers of the Nexus but instead flew downward, to the ice and snow below.
* * *
Kalecgos sighed. Here we go again, he thought, gazing at the icy ceiling that arched above this cavernous meeting hall.
The blue flight had done a great deal of talking, and more arrived daily at the Nexus to augment their meager number, but he did not feel that any solid conclusion had been reached.
Most agreed that the timing of the conjunction between the two moons was auspicious, if nothing else. One or two had dug up ancient spells they had wanted to try that, upon further investigation, had been proved inadequate. So far, it did seem that the blues were more than content with “anointing” one of their number during what was sure to be a visually stirring astronomical moment, but there was no real emotion behind it, no real sense that this was the single right thing to do.
Arygos was holding forth on his bloodline and how being the son of Malygos really did mean that, all things considered, he was the best choice. Kalec had heard this before, and was too disheartened to interrupt. He glanced out as two more blues approached, and frowned, his interest piqued.
These were not more newcomers to the Nexus but rather two of the Nexus’s protectors. They landed beside Arygos, interrupting that dragon in his speech, and spoke quietly to him.
Arygos looked angry. “Under no circumstances!” he said harshly.
“Narygos,” Kalec called, “what is it?”
“Stay out of this,” Arygos said quickly. To Narygos he said bluntly, “Kill him.”
“Kill whom?” demanded Kalec, ignoring the implied warning and moving quickly to Arygos and the others. “Narygos, what has happened?”
Narygos glanced from Arygos to Kalec, then said, “There is a stranger who comes to speak with us. He is one of the lesser races. An orc, once warchief of what is known as the Horde: Thrall. He and the bronze dragon who bears him insist that both Ysera and Nozdormu have sent him to us.”
Kalec’s ears pricked up. “Nozdormu? He has returned?”
“So it would seem,” said Narygos. Kalec turned a stunned gaze to Arygos.
“Kill him?” Kalecgos repeated, loudly and disbelievingly. “One whom two Aspects have sent to us? Borne atop a willing dragon?”
They were attracting attention from others now, and Arygos scowled.
“Very well, then, do not harm him,” said Arygos. “But a member of the lesser races has no purpose here. I will not see him.”
Angry, Kalec turned to Narygos. “I will,” he said. “Bring him.”
“I would not care if the titans themselves brought him to us. I will see no short-lived being in our private refuge!”
Arygos was livid. He stalked back and forth, his huge tail twitching, his wings furling and unfurling in his agitation. Others had overheard the argument between the two and began to chime in.
“But … Ysera, and Nozdormu!” Narygos protested. “This is a far from common incident. Ysera has seen much in her dreaming, and finding Nozdormu is something the Timeless One’s own flight could not manage on its own. Surely it would do no harm to listen to him!”
“The lesser races, as some have dubbed them, have proven themselves to be surprising at times. There is more to them than we often give them credit for. The fact that two Aspects have urged him toward us tells me all I need to know,” said Kalec. “I say we bring him and find out what he has to tell us.”
“You would,” sneered Arygos. “You like to play in the mud with the lesser beings.