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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Maps of Northrend

  Part III

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Notes

  Further Reading

  The Battle Rages On

  About the Author

  PART III

  ONE

  PATH OF HORROR

  Jaina Proudmoore left her meeting with the Council of Six with the subjects of that convocation only briefly still her focus. Her thoughts quickly turned to a more personal matter, one that had intruded more than once during the gathering.

  Kalec. Even before his recent odd—no, unsettling—behavior had begun, he had filled her thoughts more often than not. Jaina still vividly remembered that kiss just after he had asked if he stood a chance not only with the other magi but, more important, with her. She had answered him by lifting her face toward him, and he had responded as she had long hoped. At that moment, all had seemed right with the world.

  But since his troubled departure, things had gone awry . . . and now this had happened.

  While Jaina knew that she could not take time away from her duties for a personal matter, Kalec was still the former Aspect of Magic and thus privy to many of the secrets gathered by him and his predecessor—especially his predecessor—over the countless millennia. A wealth of magical power that could potentially wreak havoc upon the world was under his control, control that was slipping more and more with each passing day. It behooved her for that reason—so the archmage convinced herself—to find out what was wrong with him.

  But he cuts contact off each time I try to find out more. Simply reaching out to him was not enough. If she wanted to find out what was actually happening, the archmage had to take a different course of action, and in her eyes, there was only one course.

  Suddenly eager to return to her sanctum, Jaina picked up her pace. She already had a plan formulating, one that made absolute sense to her.

  And one that Kalec would probably not like in the least.

  • • •

  He was suffocating. Kalec was suffocating.

  It mattered not that it was the Malygos of the far, far past who was actually the one struggling for breath; Kalec experienced everything that the proto-dragon did, and that made him wonder at that dark moment what would happen if Malygos perished. A part of Kalec knew that such a fate had not befallen his host, but another part of him—the part that most dealt with the immediate lack of air—still questioned whether both of them might yet die.

  Malygos shuddered as he sank deeper into the cloying tar into which he had been pushed. Kalec expected the proto-dragon to black out, but instead, Malygos startled his unfelt companion by exhaling what air was left in his lungs.

  But what at first Kalec took for suicide was instead the proto-dragon’s attempt to save himself. Head pointed up, Malygos used his last breath to unleash frost. The force of his icy exhalation not only cleared the area above his head all the way up but also cooled the sides of the gap solid.

  Sucking in the air that filled the narrow passage, the proto-dragon bent his head down and exhaled again. The molten ground froze just enough, exactly as Malygos intended. He broke free and immediately shoved himself up.

  Below, both Kalec and his host could already sense the ground shifting again. Malygos pressed harder. The passage was too narrow for him to twist his head down and exhale again. If he was to escape, he had to move even faster.

  The opening beckoned. At the same time, a rumble rose from below. Hissing, the proto-dragon dug in his claws and pushed up the last few yards. He thrust his head out of the passage, then dragged the rest of himself free.

  The rumble grew thunderous. Although still fighting for breath, Malygos whirled around and exhaled at the opening.

  The frost covered the hole just as it filled. The ground sealed. Malygos spread his wings and took to the sky as the frozen pit shook. He rose higher and higher, both he and Kalec hoping that the freeze would last long enough—

  The pit exploded. A molten column shot up into the sky.

  Malygos managed to dodge the column just before it reached him. He flew as hard as he could in the direction he faced, even though it meant heading in the opposite direction from where he wanted to go.

  Only when the proto-dragon hoped he was far enough away did he look back. The column appeared to veer toward him but at last seemed unable to hold together anymore. It collapsed, spilling over the area of the pit and far beyond.

  Exhausted, Malygos alighted on a ridge and tried to focus. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled over his body, freezing the tar in most places. That done, the proto-dragon shook hard, sending much of the stiffened tar scattering. The effort cost him, though, and he had to use a few more precious minutes to recoup. Kalec felt every bit of his host’s weariness . . . and the proto-dragon’s increasing impatience. Malygos wanted to follow after Coros, but he still needed to regain his breath. That meant he would risk losing his rival’s trail. As good a tracker as Malygos was, the stench of this region mostly masked the other proto-dragon’s scent, very likely what Coros had intended.

  His breathing finally regular again, Malygos leapt into the sky and headed in the general direction of his rival. There was, of course, no sign of the four, but Malygos pushed on. He constantly smelled the air, seeking some hint of any of the other proto-dragons.

  But it was another scent that finally seized his attention and gave him a possible trail. It also presented him with the choice of fleeing to safety or racing toward the jaws of death.

  Galakrond was somewhere far ahead. Part of Malygos shrieked that he should turn back—a part that Kalec found quite sensible—but another part urged the proto-dragon on. Malygos recalled what Coros had said about Galakrond. If Coros had come this far, he would not stop until he achieved his goal.

 
; And if that happened, the other proto-dragons would become easy prey for Galakrond and his new followers.

  Malygos flew low and fast, eyes now seeking any object in the sky. Aware of how swiftly Galakrond himself could fly, Malygos knew that he would have very little chance of escape should the gargantuan proto-dragon spot him. Everything Malygos planned revolved around seeing the behemoth first.

  Kalec searched his host’s mind for details of what he planned and quickly discovered that Malygos’s strategy consisted mostly of finding Galakrond and taking it from there. While Kalec was well aware of how adaptable the future Spell-Weaver could be, seeking out the monster terrorizing the land was, to the blue dragon, insane. However, as always, the choice was not Kalec’s. He could only pray that history would be as he recalled it—and he was questioning those recollections more and more with each vision—and that Malygos would survive.

  Survival did not seem a trait of his host, as the proto-dragon pushed harder and harder, almost as if eager to confront Galakrond face to face. The landscape changed more than once as Malygos followed the behemoth’s odd and unnerving scent. In addition, the fresher the trail, the more Malygos began to notice the wrongness in that scent. There was a sense of decay, as if Galakrond himself were dead and yet was not. Moreover, there was something else inherent in the scent that to the proto-dragon felt twisted, frightening. Evil was not a concept understood much by Malygos’s race, but Kalec recognized that it was that very notion that his host sought. Whatever Galakrond had once been—and Malygos’s memories indicated a past in which the leviathan had been thought of as almost benevolent—he had crossed to a darker path at some point.

  Much like Deathwing, Kalec thought with growing horror. But in some ways worse and more primal.

  Why this had never been passed on to the blue’s own kind plagued Kalec despite his own trials. What had made the original Aspects and the other first dragons agree to keep this terrible era a secret from the generations to come?

  Malygos came to a sudden halt. Kalec belatedly sensed that mixed in with Galakrond’s ever-fresher scent was a trace of another scent Malygos recognized. Not Coros but one of those with him. The blue-and-white proto-dragon banked, following that scent.

  Although the essence of Galakrond still prevailed, the other scent began to take on more freshness. Other smells joined it, among them Coros’s.

  Then another, fouler odor caught Malygos’s attention. He immediately descended.

  A pair of undead proto-dragons dropped down from high above. Their claws just missed rending Malygos’s wings. With ragged hisses, they pursued him to the ground.

  Through his host’s eyes, Kalec sought out someplace from which to better defend himself—only to bitterly recall that he was not in command of the body he inhabited. Had he been, a natural stone arch to the west would have been his choice of destination.

  Malygos headed for the arch.

  Kalec could not be at all certain whether Malygos had made the same choice on his own or whether the proto-dragon and he somehow had been for a moment as one. Kalec settled for hoping that the arch would prove the correct decision. The two undead were right on their tail and gaining.

  Malygos darted through the arch, then immediately rose. Spinning in the air, the proto-dragon landed hard, paws first, on the arch. Kalec felt every bone shake from the impact and hoped that his host had not badly injured himself.

  The arch collapsed. Tons of rock rained down as the two undead, relentlessly pursuing, passed underneath.

  The rubble pressed the foremost pursuer to the ground below, where it reduced the corpse to pulp. The collapse did not entirely catch the second undead, but it did throw the fiend out of control. The animated corpse crashed into one of the fragmented arch walls.

  Already inhaling, Malygos dived after his pursuer. As the undead attempted to right itself, Malygos unleashed the frost.

  The undead’s movements slowed. Malygos increased his velocity. He tore into the fiend before it could recover from the blast, biting into the throat and tearing at the chest.

  The dry scale and flesh gave way easily, but that did not mean that the corpse ceased its assault on Malygos. The effects of the frost faded. Even with its throat nearly torn out, the undead tried to bite into Malygos’s wing. Claws sought his own throat.

  Thrusting his head into the chest cavity, the proto-dragon clamped down and ripped out everything he could. As he pulled out, the upper part of the body collapsed into the ruined chest. The undead’s flailing head snapped up.

  Malygos finished decapitating the creature, letting the head fall to the side. The ravaged body continued awkwardly seeking him. The proto-dragon shifted, and the body stumbled past.

  But as Malygos did that, a sharp pain coursed through his left hind paw. He roared in anguish as he fought to shake free the tightened jaws of the head. Blood poured from where several teeth had punctured the proto-dragon’s hide.

  Seizing the jaws, Malygos finally pried them loose. He threw the head as far away as he could.

  His injured paw throbbed. Blood continued to flow. Malygos studied the wounds, then carefully exhaled.

  A finer stream of frost blanketed the injured area. The coolness eased the throbbing and helped slow the blood flow, which finally stopped on its own a few moments later.

  Kalec felt the pain every bit as much as Malygos did. As it was, he was grateful for whatever the coolness did to ease matters.

  The wind coursed through the region. Malygos sniffed the air. Both noted the clear scent of Coros and some of his followers. Why they had diverged from their pursuit of Galakrond, neither Kalec nor his host could say, but the two were of one mind in wanting to find out.

  Not desiring to fall prey to another trap, Malygos took a circuitous route that also prevented his own scent from drifting back to his enemies. As the proto-dragon neared, a new, very powerful scent joined that of Coros and the others. The scent of blood.

  Very fresh blood.

  That disturbing scent was followed by the snarling voice of Coros. What the other proto-dragon said was not clear, but he was obviously angry.

  With great caution, Malygos peered around the rocks. His eyes widened.

  Coros and his followers were not alone. Between them lay a juvenile male of Alexstrasza’s family. There were also two more members of Coros’s family, one of them a female slightly smaller than the group’s leader. She had a look of sly pride on her countenance that appeared to both Malygos and Kalec to have nothing to do with Coros’s anger, which was evidently focused on two of the other males.

  “Do it!” their leader growled. “Must be done this way! Galakrond did it this way!”

  The juvenile tried to rise, then slumped. His savage wounds now revealed themselves. His chest had been torn open and his wings ripped apart. Malygos’s gaze shifted to the new pair, where he saw that both had claws stained crimson.

  “Brought him here for you!” interjected the female, taking up Coros’s cause. “Now eat!”

  Malygos recoiled, and if Kalec could have done the same, he would have. Neither could believe what he had heard.

  The other proto-dragons remained hesitant. The female looked at Coros, who hissed. In doing so, Coros revealed that his teeth were as red as her claws.

  Without warning, she lunged at the wounded juvenile’s throat. As the other males except for Coros recoiled with as much shock as Malygos had, the female ripped out a monstrous chunk of flesh from the side. With great gusto, she tossed it up, then let it fall into her gullet. She swallowed it whole and sneered at the rest of the party.

  Malygos wanted to go to the aid of the juvenile but knew not only that it was already too late but also that he would simply be throwing his own life away. Kalec understood that but suddenly wished that he stood beside his host. The two of them together could have taken Coros and his party, of that he was certain.

  And yet he could do nothing more than Malygos, who shared his frustration and horror at watching the butchery
.

  One of the hesitant males finally lunged. He ripped a mass of flesh from one of the juvenile’s arms. As he swallowed it, the rest finally joined in.

  The feast proved too much even for the stalwart Malygos. He turned away and quietly retched. Kalec experienced every raw emotion as Malygos fought to come to grips with the atrocity Coros had led his followers to perpetrate. Proto-dragons did not devour proto-dragons. Yes, they tasted the blood of their rivals in duels, but even when a duel ended in death, it did not continue with the consuming of the dead.

  Not, at least, until Galakrond.

  Malygos stiffened. Galakrond.

  Neither Kalec nor his host could have imagined the situation worse than it was, but now it came to both of them that what Coros intended was for him and his followers to become like Galakrond.

  Shuddering, Malygos forced his gaze back to the scene. The fire-orange juvenile had mercifully died and no longer suffered as bite after bite was ripped from him. Coros’s followers quickly left little beyond bones and torn skin.

  It was Coros who brought an end to the hideous tableau. Muzzle soaked, he raised the ruined head by the jaw and tossed it aside. “Done! All done! We grow stronger! We see it soon!”

  “Soon!” the female echoed.

  “Soon!” the others repeated.

  Coros stretched his wings. “Now . . . now you see how Galakrond will not eat us! We are like Galakrond! We will be with him! He will not eat us now!”

  This encouraged even the most reluctant of his followers. The gathered proto-dragons raised their heads and hissed as one. Coros then took off, the female immediately joining him. The rest followed, leaving in their windy wake the jumbled remains of their victim.

  Malygos almost gave chase but suddenly found himself drawn to the ravaged corpse. The pungent odor of a fresh kill filled his nostrils. For reasons clear to neither Malygos nor Kalec, the proto-dragon bent to investigate the grisly pile. Kalec’s host sniffed the juvenile’s remains and then, on impulse, seized one of the bones in his jaws.