Jaina Proudmoore: Tides of War Read Free

ocean.
    The snow had been turned to red slush. There were violent black gashes that looked as if lightning strikes had rent the frozen soil, which the whiteness had once blanketed. Boulders had been ripped from the ground or snapped off the faces of the cliffs and hurled great distances. Some of the boulders, too, were tinged with drying crimson. As Kirygosa and the others sniffed the air, they caught the lingering stench of demonic activity, the coppery reek of blood, and the unique, indescribable fragrance of myriad other magics.
    More mundane weapons had been used as well; her sharp eyes caught wounds in the earth that had been made by spears, and here and there arrows had buried themselves up to their fletching.
    “The lesser races,” growled Banagos. Her heart aching, Kirygosa did not chide him for the insulting words as she might otherwise have done. He was right, although so far it was impossible to tell exactly which ones, or even which faction they bore allegiance to.
    Kirygosa transformed into her human form. Tucking a lock of long, blue-black hair behind an ear, she respectfully approached the bodies of her slain kin. Five had started out, to protect the Focusing Iris. Five had been killed, giving their lives attempting to complete their task. Mild-tempered and wise Uragos, older than the others, the leader of the group. Rulagos and Rulagosa, clutch mates, appearing in human form as twins. They had fallen together, close to each other and in the same pose, arrows piercing their throats—as similar in death as in life. Tears filled her eyes as Kirygosa turned to regard Pelagosa. Kiry could recognize Pelagosa only by her petite size. She had always been among the smallest of the blues, young (as the dragons reckoned such things) but having a gift with the arcane that surpassed her years. Whoever slew her had also fought with magic, and she was burned beyond recognition.
    Lurugos had perhaps resisted the hardest, given how far away from the murder site they found his body. Scorched, frozen, partially submerged, with arrows sticking out like quills in his shoulders and legs, he had not given up. Kirygosa thought that he might have even foughtfor a heartbeat or two after his head had been severed from his shoulders in a clean strike from a sharp sword.
    Banagos, in human shape, came behind her and squeezed her arm. Swiftly she covered his hand with her own.
    “I know little of the lesser races,” Banagos said. “I see all kinds of weapons here and evidence that magic was used—demonic and arcane both.”
    “It could be any race,” Kiry said.
    “Then perhaps we were on the right track with the idea of killing them all,” Banagos said. His voice was raw with grief, and his blue eyes were reddened with unshed tears. He had loved little Pelagosa, and they would have been mates once she had come of age.
    “No,” said Kiry sharply. “Such has ever been the sentiment of those who do not take time to think, Banagos, as I know you know. As I know Pelagosa always believed. They do not ‘all’ do this, any more than ‘all’ dragons attack wantonly and slay the younger races for sport. We understand why this was done. And it was not for hatred of our people. It was because someone wished to obtain the Focusing Iris for his or her own purposes.”
    “Five dragons,” breathed Alagosa. “Five of us. Five of our finest. Who could possibly be strong enough to do this?”
    “That,” said Kiry, “is what we need to find out. Banagos, return to the Nexus with this grim news. Alagosa and I will stay here and… care for the remains of our fallen.”
    She had thought to spare him further pain, but Banagos shook his head. “No. She would have been my mate. I… will tend to her. And the others. You are closest to Kalecgos. It is best that he hear this from you, and quickly.”
    “As you wish,” said Kiry gently. She looked one final time at the bodies of the blue dragons, trapped in death in a form most of them