Christie Golden - Thrall - Twilight of the Aspects

“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.