Thrall - Christie Golden [93]
His eyes widened, then narrowed, and with a bellow of protective rage he folded his wings and dove. An instant later Thrall and Alexstrasza saw what Krasus had seen: several intruders of all races, uniform only in that they wore the dark maroon and black robes of the Twilight’s Hammer cult.
Korialstrasz did not breathe fire or use magic. The violators of the sanctuary were scattered among the precious eggs. Instead he dove with massive claws outstretched, plucking up and crushing the cultists as quickly and efficiently as Thrall might crush a bug. There was no screaming in terror from them; Thrall watched, angry and sickened, as they smiled while they embraced death.
The threat seemingly ended, Korialstrasz landed next to a cluster of eggs, lowering his scarlet scaly head and nuzzling them with the utmost gentleness.
One of them cracked open. An ugly ochre mist wafted up from the egg, and Krasus’s eyes widened as he recoiled from the small, deformed shape of a chromatic dragon.
“No!” screamed Alexstrasza. Thrall felt for her. It had been painful enough for the Life-Binder to watch Kirygosa’s torment. To know that the same horrible fate had been visited upon her own children—
Horrified, Korialstrasz reached out with a tentative claw to touch the tiny creature. There was a soft sound, and more and more of the eggs began to crack open. All of them hatched squeaking, malformed chromatic dragons.
And then Krasus gasped as he looked down at himself. The very tip of his foreclaw was starting to turn black. Slowly but inexorably, the contagion spread, climbing from his claws up his foreleg.
A low laughter, weak but triumphant, drew the red dragon’s attention.
“And so, all of da chil’ren become da chil’ren of da mad one, da great Deat’wing,” murmured one of the cultists. He was a troll, his skin dark blue. Korialstrasz had crushed his ribs, and blood trickled from his mouth around his tusks, but he yet lived. “All of your p-people… will belong to him. …”
Krasus stared at his infected limb. He closed the paw tightly, into a fist, and brought it to his chest for a moment. Closing his eyes, he lowered his head.
“No,” he said quietly. “I will not permit that to happen. I will destroy myself and… and my children, rather than see them so perverted.”
The cultist laughed again, weakly. He began to cough, spitting up frothy blood tinged pink with air. “We s-still win,” he rasped.
Krasus stared at him, then suddenly remembered the precise words he had spoken. “What did you mean when you said, ‘all of the children’?” The cultist was silent, leering at him as he labored for breath. “How many were infected? Tell me!”
“All of dem!” the troll crowed triumphantly. His eyes gleamed and his smile was enormous. “All da eggs! All da sanctums! You be too late! Dey all be hatching now. You cannot stop it.”
Krasus was very still. He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, thinking.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Yes, I can.”
“All of the eggs,” whispered Alexstrasza. “All… of us…”
“It was a terrible choice,” Thrall said quietly. “He knew that it was likely that no one would ever know what had really happened. That without knowing the truth, others would deem him a traitor. That perhaps even you would believe it.”
He heard her gasp and whimper, and squeezed her hand.
“He saved us. … He never betrayed us; he saved us…!”
They stood in silence, eyes closed, as Korialstrasz gathered up all his energy and magic, folding in on himself. He took a deep, steadying breath, and whispered a single word:
“Beloved.”
And then it went dark.
Thrall opened his eyes. Alexstrasza’s were open as well. She stared out into nothing, all the blood drained from her face, her hand clamping down on Thrall’s so hard it hurt.
“He… he used his life energy to link the portals,” Alexstrasza whispered. “To destroy all the contaminated eggs before anyone