Thrall - Christie Golden [65]
Thrall sat quietly in his small area, partaking of the fare provided and listening and watching. He said almost nothing, speaking only once to ask for clarification on something. The rest of the time he leaned back, arms folded across his barrel chest, simply observing.
When the meeting was over, there was some milling about, and many glances thrown in the orc’s direction. At last, though, most of the blues left. Arygos was the final one to depart, pausing at the cavern’s exit. He lifted his head and craned it over his shoulder, gazing balefully. He said nothing, and Thrall did not shrink from the angry stare. Finally, narrowing his eyes, Arygos turned and left.
Kalecgos exhaled, conjured a second crude chair, and plopped down into it. He propped his elbows on the table and rubbed his tired eyes.
“I sensed some tension at the gathering,” Thrall said.
Kalec laughed. He waved a hand, created a goblet of wine, and took a sip.
“You have a gift for understatement, friend Thrall. I anticipated out-and-out violence on at least three separate occasions this afternoon alone. Perhaps it is your presence that keeps Arygos civil. After what happened to his father, he wouldn’t want to appear erratic in front of someone who has the ear of two Aspects. For that alone, I will buy you a drink one day in some tavern when you least expect it.”
He grinned, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. Thrall found himself smiling back. He liked Kalec. The young blue seemed quite comfortable in his half-elven form. Thrall realized Kalec reminded him of Desharin, and the pleasure grew bittersweet. He felt the smile ebb from his face.
Kalec did not miss the expression. “Is something wrong?”
“There was another dragon I encountered on my journey. He was much like you. His name was Desharin. He was—”
“A green dragon,” Kalec finished, his eyes somber. “Past tense.”
Thrall nodded. “He helped me on my journey, taking me to the Caverns of Time. He was killed there, by the assassin who ambushed us both while we were falling into a meditative state.”
He could not keep the anger from his voice, and Kalec nodded. “Effective … but a coward’s way to fight.”
Thrall was silent for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “I discovered who he was in the final timeway in which I was trapped. You likely do not know the name Aedelas Blackmoore, and for that I am glad. He amounted to very little in this timeway, fortunately. He found me when I was an infant and trained me to be a gladiator. His goal was to put me at the head of an army of orcs and overthrow the Alliance.”
“Obviously he did not succeed,” said Kalec.
“Not in this timeway. In that one … I died in infancy, and Blackmoore rose himself to lead that army.”
“A chilling scenario,” Kalec said, “but you said he attacked you outside the timeways. How—?” His eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “The infinite dragonflight must have pulled him out of the timeway to hunt you down.” Thrall nodded. “That is … disturbing that they can do so.”
“Everything I have learned since I began this journey is disturbing,” Thrall said. He peered at his mug. “Except for the fact that conjured beer tastes delicious.” He toasted his host, smiling slightly.
Kalecgos threw back his blue head and laughed.
The moons were close to full tonight, but that couldn’t be helped. Arygos could not wait for another evening to conduct his business. Like all blues, he did not feel the cold as his wings beat steadily, carrying him through the freezing night that was so clear, the stars looked like chips of ice in the sky.
He took the utmost care to make sure he was not followed, wheeling back often. He flew due east, his wings beating rapidly. The jagged teeth of Coldarra gave way to slightly more temperate landscapes. Pools of scalding water, gushing straight from Azeroth’s core, spat and hissed. Geysers,