[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.How long it took to slaughter every living—and dead—person in the city, Arthas would never be able to tell.But at last it was done.He was exhausted, shaking, nauseated by the smell of blood, smoke, and the sick, sweet scent of poisoned bread, hanging in the air even though the bakery itself was a burning building.Blood and ichor covered his once-bright armor.But he was not done.He waited for what he knew would come, and sure enough, a mere moment later, his enemy arrived, descending from the air to land on the roof of one of the few buildings still intact.Arthas staggered.The creature was enormous.His skin was blue-gray, like animated stone.Horns curved forward and up from his bald skull, and two mighty wings like those of bats stretched out behind him like living shadows.His legs, encased in metal adorned with spikes and decorated with disturbing images of bones and skulls, curved backward and ended in hooves, and the very light of his glowing green eyes revealed sharp teeth bared in an arrogant sneer.He stared up at the creature, rapt with horror, disbelief warring with the evidence before his eyes.He had heard tales; had seen pictures in old books, both in the library at home and in the Dalaran archives.But beholding this monstrous thing, towering over him, the sky behind him crimson and black with fire and smoke—A dreadlord was a demon.A thing out of myth.It couldn’t be real—and yet it was here, standing before him in all its dreadful glory.Dreadlord.Fear threatened to overwhelm Arthas, and he knew if he let it it would cripple him.He would die at the hand of this monster—die without even a fight.And so with sheer will, he drowned out the mindless terror with another, better emotion.Hatred.Righteous fury.He thought of those who had fallen beneath his hammer, the living and the dead, the ravening ghouls and the terrified women and children who didn’t understand that he was trying to save their souls.Their faces bolstered him; they could not—would not—have died for nothing.Somehow Arthas found the courage to meet the demon stare for stare, clutching his hammer.“We’re going to finish this right now, Mal’Ganis,” he shouted.His voice was strong and firm.“Just you and me.”The dreadlord threw back his head and laughed.“Brave words,” he rumbled.“Unfortunately for you, it won’t end here.” Mal’Ganis grinned, black lips pulling back from sharp, pointed teeth.“Your journey has just begun, young prince.”He swept an arm out, indicating Arthas’s men, long, sharp claws glittering in the light of the flames that still burned and consumed the great city.“Gather your forces and meet me in the arctic land of Northrend.It is there that your true destiny will unfold.”“My true destiny?” Arthas’s voice cracked with anger and confusion.“What do you—” The words died in his throat as the air around Mal’Ganis began to shimmer and whirl in a familiar pattern.“No!” Arthas shrieked.He surged forward, blindly, recklessly, and would have been cut down in a heartbeat had not the teleportation spell been completed.Arthas cried out incoherently, swinging his faintly glowing hammer at empty air.“I’ll hunt you down to the ends of the earth if I have to! Do you hear me? To the ends of the earth!”Manic, raging, screaming, he swung his hammer wildly at nothing until sheer exhaustion alone forced him to lower it.He propped it up and leaned on it, sweating, shaking with raw sobs of frustration and anger.To the ends of the earth.CHAPTER THIRTEENThree days later, Lady Jaina Proudmoore walked the streets of what had once been a proud city, the glory of northern Lordaeron.Now, it was the stuff of nightmares.The stench was almost unbearable.She lifted a handkerchief, liberally scented with peacebloom essence, to her face in a partially successful attempt to filter out the worst of it.Fires that ought to have consumed themselves, or have abated at least slightly from lack of fuel, continued to rage at their full height, telling Jaina that some dark magic was afoot.Combined with the acrid smell of smoke that stung her eyes and throat was the reek of putrefaction.They lay as they had fallen, most of them unarmed.Tears welled in Jaina’s eyes and slipped down her cheeks as she moved as if in a trance, carefully stepping over the bloated bodies.A soft whimper of pain escaped as she saw that Arthas and his men, in their misguided mercy, had not even spared the children.Would these bodies, lying still and stiff in death, have risen to attack her if Arthas had not slain them? Perhaps.Many of them, certainly; the grain had indeed been distributed and consumed.But every single one? She would never know, nor would he.“Jaina—I ask you again, come with me.” His voice was intense, but it was clear his mind was a thousand leagues away.“He escaped me.I saved the city’s inhabitants from becoming his slaves, but—at the last minute he got away.He’s in Northrend.Come with me.”Jaina closed her eyes.She did not want to remember that conversation of a day and a half ago.She did not want to remember how he looked, cold and angry and distant, fixated on killing this dreadlord—Light, a demon—at the expense of everything else.She stumbled across a body and her eyes snapped open again to the horror that the man she had loved—still did love, despite everything, how she could still love him after this she did not know, but Light save her, she did—“Arthas—it’s a trap.He’s a demon lord.If he was powerful enough to elude you in St-Stratholme, he will certainly defeat you in his own territory, where he is strongest.Don’t go…please…”She had wanted to throw herself into his arms, physically keep him there beside her.He couldn’t go to Northrend.He would be going to his death.And although he had dealt out so much to others, Jaina found she could not wish for his.“So much death,” she murmured.“I can’t believe Arthas could’ve done this.” And yet she knew he had.A whole city…“Jaina? Jaina Proudmoore!”Jaina started violently, snapped out of her sickened trance by the sound of the familiar voice.Uther.A strange feeling of relief swept over her as she turned in the direction of the hail.Uther had always intimidated her slightly; he was so large and powerful and…well…so deeply entrenched in the Light.She recalled with an incongruously guilty flush how, when she and Arthas were younger, they used to make fun of Uther’s piety, which to them verged on the pompous and sanctimonious, behind the knight’s back.He was a fairly easy target.But three excruciating days ago, she and Uther had both stood against Arthas.“You swore you would never deny me, Jaina,” Arthas accused, his voice sharp as an icy knife blade.“But when I most needed your support, your understanding, you turned against me.”“I—you—Arthas, we didn’t know enough to—”“And now, you refuse to aid me.I’m going to Northrend, Jaina.I would have you with me.To help me stop this evil.Won’t you come?”Jaina winced.Uther noticed, but said nothing.Clad in full plate armor despite the overwhelming heat of the unnaturally blazing fires, he strode swiftly toward her
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]