Thrall: Twilight of the Aspects

20

Despite her ordeal, Kirygosa was more than eager—and able—to help plan the attack. Thrall noticed that even those who had once supported Arygos gravitated to her. The process of winning the heart and soul of the blues, begun with Kalec and his joyous ascent to Aspect in the light of two moons, was cemented by bearing witness to Kirygosa’s calm courage.

The three Aspects, Thrall, Kirygosa, and a few representatives from each flight, all in humanoid forms, gathered together to begin strategizing in earnest. All present knew the layout of Wyrmrest Temple, and Kirygosa was able to tell them exactly what was now where. Here was where Chromatus rested and recovered—“More with each passing hour,” she warned them darkly. There was where the Twilight Father spent most of his time. All beasts of burden and mounts were in another area, and she was able to give a solid approximation of the number of cultists and dragons the three flights were likely to encounter.

“Are there any weaknesses we can exploit?” asked the red dragon Torastrasza.

“The Twilight Father is human,” Kirygosa replied. “He is older, with a weathered face and a gray beard, and he is extremely arrogant. I know that he is powerful in his own right, and that those he leads know nothing about his true loyalties.”

“He is a leader?” asked Thrall. “A military commander, perhaps?”

“He does strike me as a military man,” Kirygosa said, “but I admit I know little about humans. One thing I do know: he fears Deathwing.”

“As all sane beings should,” murmured Ysera, and she ducked her head in sorrow.

“It may make him overconfident,” mused Torastrasza. “He may make foolish errors.”

“I am not certain that any amount of overconfidence will be detrimental to him with such an ally as Chromatus,” said Thrall. “You did not witness the battle against the blues. We now have greater numbers and different methods of attacking. But we should not underestimate him.”

“Too, the cultists will gladly die for him,” said Kirygosa. “They will fight until they are slain.”

“Is the Twilight Father relying solely on Chromatus and the twilight dragons, or is there other weaponry?” asked Alexstrasza.

“They do not have any truly devastating weapons for ground or air combat,” Kirygosa said. “But I do not know that they will need them. They have an entire flight, and Chromatus with all his heads—each one with a brain that knows all the skills of its flight.”

Everyone fell silent at that simple but powerful observation.

“It seems we know our foe,” said Alexstrasza at last. “Kiry, is Chromatus under the Twilight Father’s control in any way?”

The blue dragon shook her head. “No, he is his own self. He is very dear to Deathwing, who has great pride—and great plans—for him.”

“Then we three Aspects will take him as our primary target,” said Alexstrasza. “Whatever else they may send at us, we need to concentrate all our efforts on him. The rest of our flights need to keep us from being distracted by other attacks. If he is so prized by Deathwing, his death will be more than a tactical victory. We can always retreat and return later to deal with the Twilight Father and the cultists. But Chromatus must die.”

All the assembled dragons nodded in agreement, as did Thrall.

Chromatus must indeed die. Or else the cultists, whose focus was the end of everything, might see their goal realized all too soon.

The Twilight Father had instructed that the bodies of Zuuzuu and Josah be unceremoniously removed, and had ordered all of the cultists to submit to a beating. They had done so with perfect obedience, of course, and he had taken rather petty solace in their cries of pain.

How could they have let this happen? Kirygosa was a single being, only as strong as a human in that form. She shouldn’t have been able to overpower even one of them, let alone both. And who had been so stupid as to not be watching the wyverns? No one had admitted to such an egregious lack of observation.

“We have lost our chance to breed the future,” Chromatus growled when the Twilight Father had come to give him the bad news. “And if she survives, she can reveal information that could possibly harm us.”

The thought had already occurred to the Twilight Father. With a confidence he did not feel, he said, “What can she tell them? They know we are here; they already know about you. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise. She knows that you were weak at the time they attacked, and yet you utterly defeated them. I think the news she brings them—if she survives—will only discourage them. And when we win, if she survives, you will still be able to father an entire flight of chromatic dragons.”

Chromatus eyed the smaller figure. “That is possible. But any strategic advantage we give them is to be deplored. I am sure Deathwing will be most unhappy to hear of this.”

To that comment, the Twilight Father had no response.

They came at dusk.

The already darkening sky was made black with their approach, and the sound of hundreds of beating wings vibrated through the air as the foolish dragonflights drew closer.

The Twilight Father was excited. Surely Chromatus’s rumbled words of warning were overly conservative. In the rays of the dying sun, he could count three colors of dragons bearing down upon the temple. So, the bronzes were still hanging back, their leader nowhere in sight. Even better.

There was an answering beat of wings as his own army of twilight dragons lifted into the sky. Behind them, flying almost lazily, was Chromatus.

The Twilight Father could not suppress a grin. Let them come. Let them come to their destruction. Chromatus would vanquish them, and the Twilight Father would report the deaths of no fewer than three Aspects this night.

Thrall was not astride Kalecgos, not this time. Torastrasza, who he had learned was Alexstrasza’s right hand—foreclaw?—in military matters, had agreed to bear Thrall upon her back. The Aspects needed to be free to concentrate their attack on Chromatus. They could not be even briefly distracted by worry about his fate—or, indeed, the fate of any of them.

Thrall completely understood. He would contribute as best he could, without causing any of the Aspects to waste a moment worrying about him.

He was still in the front line as they descended once again on Wyrmrest. They were met by the first wave of twilight dragons, the beautiful yet horrific beings heading straight for the three Aspects. At once, though, the twilight dragons came under attack. The dragons of the various flights harried them, drawing their attention away from the Aspects. The greens used poison breath or, even worse, their ability to direct nightmares. At least, that was what Thrall assumed when he saw two twilight dragons suddenly shriek and flee erratically, as if something unspeakably terrifying was after them.

The reds and blues worked in tandem, the blues using their skills with cold magic to freeze or slow their enemies, and the reds attacking the corporeal dragons with fire. This time, the combined dragonflights outnumbered the single twilight dragonflight four or five to one, and what the enemy had no doubt thought would be a damaging attack—or at least a distraction to the powerful Aspects—was little more than flies buzzing about them.

They heard Chromatus before they even saw him.

“Kalecgos, so you have come back for more torment!” The voice was issuing from the black head, deep, rumbling along the bones and in the blood. Thrall shivered once, then set his jaw. “Deathwing once tried to eradicate your flight,” said the blue head. “You must be determined that they all die, to come challenge me again. And I see you’ve brought your little friends with you.” The red head spoke in a mocking tone of voice, “Life-Binder, all done weeping?” while the green said, “And are you finally awake, little Ysera?”

The words were laced with venom and contempt, but they fell on deaf ears. The once-Dreamer was now truly Awakened, her wings as swift and sure as Kalec’s or Alexstrasza’s. The Life-Binder had returned to herself, and Thrall knew her beloved’s sacrifice had only given her strength for this battle. He wanted to shout back to Chromatus, let him know how foolish he had been to try to taunt them, but he was no dragon, and his words would be lost in the wind.

The Aspects were so focused, the insults had as little effect as raindrops sliding off their scales. Smoothly, yet with determination, as they had practiced, they moved gracefully into their attack formation.

It was like watching a beautifully choreographed dance. Kalecgos, Ysera, and Alexstrasza each took up positions around Chromatus. Alexstrasza flew above him, bearing down on him and blasting him with orange-red flames. Kalecgos attacked from below, buffeting him with both icy-cold attacks and magical ones. Ysera darted about unexpectedly as openings occurred, her mercurial nature meaning that Chromatus would never know where she would be next.

Thrall had watched, openmouthed in awe, as they had practiced this attack. They had done so with red, blue, and green dragons, feigning attacks but encouraging each “Chromatus” to “attack” with his or her flight’s tactics.

It seemed as if they would win.

After Ysera’s grisly description of each one of the Aspects being slain by his or her own particular magic, they had decided that each of them would target a different head on the chromatic dragon. Ysera concentrated on the bronze head, attacking not just with her corrosive, sickly green breath but by suddenly creating an illusion of a massive bronze dragon. More than the others, Ysera was unpredictable, and seemed to be staying a step or two ahead of Chromatus’s bronze-dragon brain. Kalec targeted the red head, countering blasts of fiery breath with ice and magic.

And Alexstrasza went for perhaps the most intelligent one of all: the blue. In her rage, she was without a doubt the most beautiful, dangerous thing Thrall had ever seen. The blue head looked taken aback at first, as she attacked ceaselessly, breathing fire and then darting out of the way, shaking off clusters of twilight dragons as though they were little more than a nuisance. Everything she held precious in this world had been taken from her by those responsible for Chromatus’s unnatural life: the mysterious Twilight Father and, of course, Deathwing himself. She was determined that the five-headed monster would not live to continue the slaughter and destruction.

Chromatus was clearly stunned by the smoothness of the coordination.

For a few moments.

Then, as if he had only been toying with them, he suddenly began striking back with twice the speed and determination. He had five heads, and there were three foes. The blue and red heads continued to fight Alexstrasza and Kalecgos; the black and green ones suddenly turned on their long necks and joined the bronze head in the attack upon Ysera.

She was unprepared for the sudden switch in tactics, and one of her forelegs was engulfed in shadowy flame. The green head fixed her with an intense stare, and Thrall guessed it was probably attempting to send the green Dragon Aspect one of her own nightmares. But Thrall knew, from what Ysera herself had said, that she had witnessed such things as this creature could not even imagine. Ysera pulled the injured limb in close and dove out of the stare’s path, shaking her head and closing her eyes, deliberately casting off the green dragon head’s attempt to use her own magic on her.

The bronze head opened its mouth and breathed out sand, scouring her, while black jaws closed on a wing, bit down hard, and ripped. Ysera cried out and pulled free, leaving a chunk of wing in her attacker’s mouth. Quickly she healed herself from both injuries, but in that precious moment the other two heads ceased struggling with Alexstrasza and Kalecgos, and all five converged on the green Aspect, who was now clearly fighting for her life.

Thrall held fast to Torastrasza as she dipped and dove. He continued to use the Doomhammer when he could, but the twilight dragons were now prepared for such attacks. When Torastrasza drew near them with the orc on her back, the twilights made certain they were not in corporeal form, fighting only with their ugly, purple-hued magic. Thrall realized that he needed to use his shamanic skills now, and opened himself to the elements.

He reached out with his mind. I fight to save all of you, all the elementals. All of this wounded land. Come to my aid, that I may protect you!

Erratic they were at first, but Thrall put all of his urgency into his plea. And finally they obeyed. A wind elemental took the shape of a cyclone, picking up enormous boulders and hurtling toward Thrall’s foes. Gusts of air came to his call, microbursts that caught spread wings and sent their owners slamming into one another. Blinding snow swirled up to envelop them, only to turn to boiling water that targeted open eyes.

Together, he and Torastrasza slew several of the twilight dragons. Then suddenly the great red dragon dropped in a tightly controlled dive. Thrall wondered what she was doing, and then realized. She was flying close to land, targeting the cluster of Twilight’s Hammer cultists, opening her mammoth jaws and spewing flame. Their robes caught quickly, and they screamed in torment. It would seem, Thrall thought darkly, that not all of the cultists were so willing to sacrifice themselves when actually faced with death in the form of a huge, angry red dragon.

Torastrasza wheeled and rose, almost lazily, curving around the temple to the other side. Again she flew low, breathing fire on the screaming cultists, then caught the wind as lithely as a sparrow and rose gracefully to rejoin the battle in the air.

Thrall glanced over at the battle with Chromatus, and his heart sank. He could see that all three of the Aspects had been wounded—burned, frozen, crippled, injured in some other way. And Chromatus seemed barely touched. Even as Thrall watched, the dragon threw back two of his heads and laughed.

“Life is sweet, to offer such entertainment!” he bellowed. “Come for me again! Let us play some more!”

Ysera veered erratically away. She flew close to Thrall before heading back—long enough for him to catch fear and despair in her brilliant eyes.

Kirygosa’s words came back to him: He was made … for you. All of you. He was brought to life with a specific purpose: to destroy the Aspects!

They fell almost like raindrops, the reds and blues and greens. Wyrmrest Temple might now just as well have been called Wyrmrest Abattoir.

This couldn’t be happening! Three Aspects and their flights—certainly the number of cultists and twilight dragons was dropping, but Chromatus seemed to be gaining strength the longer the battle continued.

Where were the bronzes? Nozdormu had said he would come. They were desperately needed now. With another Aspect, perhaps that would be enough to emerge victorious. Thrall looked around wildly, hoping against hope that—

There was a dark smudge against the evening sky now. More twilight dragons? And then Thrall realized that their scales were much, much lighter-hued than those of the twilights. Much lighter than any other dragonflight.

“There!” cried Thrall. “The bronzes! They have come!”

The reds, blues, and greens had spotted them as well, and a wave of joy rose in their throats. Now, with the bronze dragonflight added to the fight, they could turn the tide. Four Aspects—surely even Chromatus could not stand against them!

The bronzes scattered, joining their brethren in attacking the twilight dragons, while Nozdormu dove straight to his fellow Aspects. They broke off the attack, wheeling away to meet him partway. It was a beautiful sight: four Aspects, flying together, united in battle.

And then Nozdormu said something Thrall did not expect to hear.

“Retreat!” he called. “Retreat! Follow me!”

Thrall felt his heart sink in his chest like something physical, and he knew the other Aspects felt the same way. All eyes turned to the Life-Binder. For a long moment she hovered. Then Chromatus made the decision for her. He had flown off a slight distance, doubtless confused by their abrupt departure, and had waited for them to resume the attack. When they did not, he came after them, flying straight and true, with deadly intent.

“Retreat!” cried Alexstrasza in a broken voice. “Retreat, retreat!” Ysera and Kalecgos took up the cry, ordering their own flights to follow.

Those who could obey at once did so. Others were still locked in combat and came when they could—or not at all. They flew swiftly and steadily at top speed to the east. Thrall, perched atop Torastrasza’s strong back, clung on as air created by the sheer speed threatened to dislodge him.

He craned his neck and looked over his shoulder. Chromatus was still following, and as Thrall watched, he opened his red mouth and bellowed a sheet of flame. Then he broke off the attack, veering back toward the temple. A few of the twilight dragons pursued, but soon they, too, turned back.

Why? They were winning; why would they break off the attack?

After a few moments of hard flying, making sure that they were not being followed by the nightmarish creature, the Aspects slowed. They alit upon a snowy peak, their flights landing close beside them.

Alexstrasza whirled on Nozdormu. Grief and anger were in every line of her crimson form. “Why? Why did you not join us in the attack, Nozdormu?” she cried. “We could have—”

“No,” the Timeless One said, bluntly and brutally. “We would have all died if we had persisted in our attack.”

“How could that be possible?” spat Torastrasza. Thrall could feel the coiled anger in her body. “You brought another full flight, and yourself—four Aspects! How could anything stand against that?”

Even Kalec, normally so calm, looked frustrated and upset, and mild Ysera appeared agitated. Thrall, too, was confused, but trusted Nozdormu. The others must as well, or else they would not have broken off the attack as they had.

“I have learned much, in my wandering of the timewaysss,” Nozdormu said. “I asked this orc to tell you that I was ssstill searching for answers. I have found sssome, at least. We cannot defeat Chromatus without true union amongst ourselves.”

The other dragons exchanged glances. “We are working together as seldom before,” protested Kalec. “All four flights are united in this! You saw us: we worked cooperatively, none of us seeking glory!”

“Perhaps that was what the vision was trying to tell me,” came the soft voice of Ysera. “We cannot defeat him by simply fighting together. We need to fight … together.”

“Exactly!” said Nozdormu. The others simply stared at him, and Thrall knew what they were thinking. Had Nozdormu and Ysera, too, gone mad?

Nozdormu shook himself impatiently. “We are Aspectsss,” he said. “We are not sssimply dragons with different skills and more power. We were changed when the titans gave us our abilities. We cannot defeat this monster by something so sssimple as coordinating an attack. We must think and act and fight as one. United. Share the essence of what it truly means to be each Aspect.”

“I think I understand,” said Alexstrasza, frowning slightly. “We were meant to join. Combine our skills, our knowledge. Is that what you are saying?”

“Yes, that is it exactly, Life-Binder! Do you remember what the titans sssaid as they departed?”

“‘Unto each of you is given a gift; unto all of you is given the duty,’” said Alexstrasza, her eyes widening. “We … were parts of a whole. We were never meant to be separate.”

“Will … we lose ourselves?” asked Kalec quietly. Thrall knew how important Kalec’s individuality was to him. More than any of the other Aspects, he was used to simply being himself. Being an Aspect at all was still very new to him, and the thought of having to lose himself utterly was not a pleasant one. Still, Thrall knew his friend, and knew that if Kalec had to “die” as an individual in order to stop Chromatus, he would not hesitate to make the sacrifice.

“No,” answered Nozdormu. “Not if we do so properly. We are partsss of a whole, but complete unto ourselves as well. That is the great myssstery.”

Suddenly, Alexstrasza closed her eyes in pain. “Then … we are indeed doomed,” she said, her voice breaking.

“What?” said Torastrasza. “Life-Binder, you have suffered and endured so much. Why do you give up now?”

And then Kalec realized it as well. “We are only four,” he said. “We will never again be as we were intended to be. Neltharion is Deathwing now, and there is no Aspect of Earth.”

The silence was almost unbearable, yet no one could think of anything to say. It was a crushing truth, but was the truth nonetheless. They could not even try to call a new Aspect, for Deathwing yet lived.

And Chromatus was Deathwing’s tool.

Thrall slumped, almost numb with the realization. All that remained to them, then, was to throw their lives away fighting Chromatus, and fail. The world, and every living thing in it save the twilight dragons, would then fall. The cult would triumph, and Deathwing, insane and evil, would be victorious, living only long enough to be impaled on the very spire of Wyrmrest Temple. Thrall would never return to his Aggra, never be able to work with the Earthen Ring to—

He blinked. Was it possible? Could he …?

His connection with the elements had only seemed to grow stronger with this unexpected journey he had undertaken. His renewed connection with the Spirit of Life seemed to make everything stronger. The knowledge of the importance of the moment made him feel … solid. Grounded. As long as he remembered that, nothing could uproot him again.

“Life-Binder,” he said, his voice shaking with hope, “I … may have a solution.”