Thrall - Christie Golden [90]
She leaned close to the wyvern’s ear, summoning what faint magic of persuasion she could with the chain still about her neck, and he calmed.
“We both know how to fly,” she whispered. “Teach me how to be a wind rider, my friend.”
It was probably her imagination, but she thought he gave her an approving whuff.
EIGHTEEN
Thrall had not imagined he would be returning here again, especially so soon. But as he flew on the back of Narygos, Thrall felt that he was an entirely different person from who he had been the last time he had approached the Life-Binder.
The thought of Aggra burned warm in his heart, a quiet, ember-fueled fire that both buoyed and calmed him. He had watched—and indeed, had played a vital role in—the blues’ rediscovering the true depths of their own hearts and spirits. They had received the Aspect they deserved: one of strength, and compassion, and wisdom, who truly had the best interest of the flight in mind.
“The last time I saw her, she was there,” Thrall said, pointing. The dragon dove smoothly and flew toward the stone peak. As they drew closer Thrall saw, with more than a twinge of concern, that Alexstrasza was still here. She was as she had been then, sitting with her legs clasped to her chest, the image of pain. He wondered if she had moved at all since his last visit.
“Set me down a distance away,” Thrall said. “I don’t think she wants to see anyone right now, and seeing me by myself might be easier.”
“As you wish,” said Narygos, landing gracefully and lowering himself so that Thrall might dismount with more ease. Thrall turned and looked up at him. “I thank you for bearing me here,” he said, “but… perhaps you should not wait for me.”
Narygos cocked his head. “If you do not succeed in convincing her—”
“If I do not succeed in convincing her,” Thrall said with quiet earnestness, “then there is little point to my returning at all.”
Narygos nodded, understanding. “Good luck, then, for all our sakes.” He gave Thrall a gentle, affectionate nudge with his huge head, then gathered himself and leaped skyward. Thrall watched him fade into the distance, then went to the Life-Binder.
She heard him approach, as she had before. Her voice was raspy, almost unused-sounding.
“You are either the bravest or the most foolish orc I have ever seen, to dare return to me a second time,” she said.
He smiled a little. “Others have said similar things, my lady,” he said.
“Others,” she said, lifting her head and piercing him with the intensity of her gaze, “are not me.”
Despite all he had seen and fought in this life, Thrall felt himself tremble at the quiet threat in that voice. He knew she was right. Should she decide to end him, he would not stand a chance.
“You have come for more torment?” she said, and he wasn’t sure if she meant that he would torment her or vice versa. Probably both.
“I hope to bring an end, or at least a mitigation, to yours, my lady,” he said quietly.
Her anger held for another moment, then she looked away, once again resembling more a broken child than the most powerful of the Aspects.
“Only death will do so, and perhaps not even then,” Alexstrasza said, her voice breaking.
“I do not know enough to say yes or no to you,” Thrall said, “but I must try.”
She sighed deeply. He looked at her carefully. She was thinner than she had been the last time he was here. Her cheekbones, angular to begin with, seemed to jut through her skin. Her eyes had dark hollows around them, and she looked as if a good wind would blow her away.
Thrall knew better.
He sat down beside her on the stone. She did not move. “When last we spoke,” he continued, “I asked you to come with me to the Nexus. To speak with the blues. To help them.”
“I have not forgotten. Nor have I forgotten my response.”
It