Thrall - Christie Golden [74]
Now there was no platform. It had been shattered into drifting pieces in the battle that had claimed his father’s life; one such still held the closed magical orb known as the Focusing Iris. Malygos had used his own blood to activate and control this orb, which had lain dormant for millennia. With the open Focusing Iris, Malygos had been able to direct powerful surge needles, using them to pull arcane magic from Azeroth’s ley lines and channeling that magic into the Nexus. And it had been the opening of the Focusing Iris a slender crack with a long-forgotten key that had lured Malygos to what had been his final battle.
Even though it reminded him of a grim moment in his life, this place was comforting and familiar, and Arygos felt himself relax. He perched atop one of the slowly moving pieces, folded his wings against his great body, and opened his jaw to take great, gulping breaths.
“Arygos?”
The dragon opened his eyes and unfurled his wings, instantly on the alert. Who had dared—?
“Blackmoore!” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I am glad to see you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” the human said, striding forward. He stood on another one of the platform pieces and peered up boldly at the hovering dragon. He lifted off his helm, and his long black hair spilled out. His blue eyes flickered over Arygos. “What has happened? I don’t know much about all this Aspect business, but … I’m guessing that it’s not you.”
Arygos winced. “No. They chose … Kalecgossss.” He hissed the name, deeply angry, deeply wronged. “That stupid orc—he turned the heart of the dragonflight away from me. From what was rightfully mine!”
Blackmoore frowned. “This is not good,” he muttered.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Angrily, Arygos slammed his tail on the piece of the platform, tilting it precariously. “It is all Thrall’s fault. If you had just killed him as you were supposed to—”
The human’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and if you had become Aspect as you were supposed to, we would not be having this pleasant conversation.” His voice cracked like a whip. “But neither of us has what we want right now, so we had best put aside our anger and figure out how to get it.”
The human was correct. Arygos calmed himself. He needed to focus; it was why he had come here.
“Perhaps together we can accomplish both our goals,” Arygos said. “And please our Twilight Father and Deathwing at the same time.”
Blackmoore eyed him. “Go on.”
“We both want Thrall dead. And we both want me to become Aspect. Come with me back to the battle, King Blackmoore. Take your revenge. If you kill the orc, Kalec will see that not all works out as he wishes. And if Kalec falters, the faith of the rest of the flight will be shaken, the miserable wyrms. Then Kalecgos will be vulnerable, and I can destroy him.”
He grew more excited as he spoke, working it out, visualizing each step. “Once Kalecgos is slain, the blues, desperate for someone to guide them, will turn to me—and so I will gain the powers of the Aspect as I should have done in the first place! All will be as it should have been.”
“You know this for a fact?” challenged Blackmoore.
“No … not exactly. But whom else could the power possibly pass to? I was the only one who challenged Kalec. Surely they will turn to me when I reveal him for the weakling he is.”
Blackmoore stroked his goatee with a mailed hand, considering. “I don’t like the odds. I am but a human. Against one or even a few dragons, maybe—but an entire flight?”
“Trust me. Thrall will be completely undone when he sees you again,” urged Arygos. He did not like to beg, but he needed this human. “And when Thrall is dead, the blues will be stricken. There are still many twilight dragons in the air. We can do this