Varian felt the Light brush him almost like a physical thing. It seemed to caress him, to enter his heart, as Anduin had said. He felt calmer, stronger, more peaceful.
He watched his boy speak with the pure passion of his soul, watched how swiftly and sweetly the Light came to bless him. Saw how the people loved him.
Oh, my son, you are already the best of all of us. What a king you will make.
A horn sounded. It was time to embark. Everywhere were families making their farewells—older couples with grown children, fresh-faced youths saying good-bye to sweethearts. Then the milling throngs moved slowly toward the vessels. Handkerchiefs waved; kisses were blown.
Varian waited and smiled a little as Anduin, flanked by his two paladin friends, moved toward the flagship.
“You spoke well, Son,” Varian said.
“I’m glad you think so,” Anduin replied. “I spoke only what was in my heart.”
Varian placed a hand on the youth’s shoulder. “What was in your heart was perfect. I was and am very proud of you, Anduin.”
An impish grin lit up the prince’s face. “You don’t think I’m a mewling pacifist anymore?”
“Ah, that’s not fair,” Varian said. “And no, I don’t. I’m glad you realized the necessity of what we have to do.”
Anduin sobered. “I do,” he said. “I wish it were otherwise, but it’s not possible. I’m—I’m just glad you’re not like Jaina is. I’ve prayed for her, too.”
Of course he had. “Anduin—this war we both think we have to fight—you know I might not come back.”
He nodded. “I know, Father.”
“And if I don’t—you are more than ready to take my place. I’m proud of you. I know you’ll rule well and justly. Stormwind could not be in better hands.”
Anduin’s eyes grew shiny. “Father—I—thank you. I would do my very best to be a good king. But… I’d just as soon not be for a very long time.”
“Me too,” said Varian. He pulled the boy into a tight, awkward embrace, pressed his forehead down to Anduin’s, then turned and lightly ran down to the ships. He merged with the flood of sailors and headed to the flagship.
And to war.
24
Kalec flew with a heavy heart. He was terribly afraid that Kirygosa had been right about Jaina. Dragons did not have the ability to read minds, but Jaina’s attitude when the Focusing Iris came under discussion was more than suspicious. He was almost certain now that she had absconded with the artifact herself and was intending to use it on her enemies as they had used it upon her. Reinforcing this unhappy conclusion was the fact that the Focusing Iris was once again hidden, even more expertly than it had been before. It was a bitter thought. He wanted to believe that the change he saw in this woman for whom he cared so deeply was due to the effect of the arcane energy of the bomb. But even if that was partially true, Kalec knew it could not explain everything.
So it was that he was returning home, to the Nexus, to speak with his flight. And… he realized he wanted to go home.
He noticed as he approached that no one was wheeling protectively about the Nexus, as dragons had done from time immemorial. The sight saddened him further. He decided not to land immediately, but instead to speak with one who might have either balm for his soul or difficult words he would need to hear.
He found Kirygosa at her “pondering place,” where he had been speaking with her when the news of the theft had first reached them. She did not seem surprised as she saw him approach. As before, she had opted for her human form, leaning against the shining tree, not feeling the cold even though she wore a light, sleeveless blue dress.
He landed on the hovering platform, transforming into his own bipedal form, and took the hand she extended to him as he sat beside her.
They didn’t speak for a long time. Finally Kalec said, “I saw no one patrolling.”
Kirygosa nodded. “Most of them are gone now,” she said. “Each day, someone decides that his or her home is no longer here.”
Kalec closed his eyes in pain. “I feel like I’ve failed, Kiry,” he said softly. “Failed at everything. Failed as a leader, failed to recover the Focusing Iris, failed Jaina… failed to even realize how badly wounded she was by what happened at Theramore.”
Her blue eyes held no hint of pleasure as she looked at him. “She has it, then?”
“I do not know. I can’t really sense it anymore, not distinctly. But… I think she might.”
She knew what the words cost him and squeezed his hand. “For what it is worth, I do not think you were wrong to have loved her. Or to love her still. Your heart is great, but it must also be wise.”
“You know,” he said, attempting to interject levity, “there are those who have said that you and I would be a good match. Prevent me from going after the wrong sorts of females.”
Kiry did laugh at that, resting her head on his shoulder. “I do not deny that you will make a fine mate for someone one day, Kalecgos, but it is not me.”
“And there goes my last hope of being a normal dragon.”
“I am glad every day that you are not,” she said, and his heart felt full with the affection in her eyes. He did love her—but not as a mate.
He sighed, and the melancholy resettled upon him. “Oh, Kiry, I have lost my way. I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you know exactly what to do, and you know your path,” she said. “You stand at a crossroads, my dear friend. As do we all. Either the blues need you to lead them well and wisely… or they need to be free to find their own paths, be the leaders of their own lives. Do we truly have a purpose higher than our duties to ourselves? Perhaps the younger races, too, have the right to be the leaders of their own lives. Make their own choices… and live with the consequences.”
As Garrosh did, Kalec thought. As Jaina is preparing to do.
“Changes,” he murmured, recalling what he had once said to Jaina. There is a rhythm, a cycle to such things. Nothing stays the same, Jaina. Not even dragons, so long-lived and supposedly so wise.
Supposedly.
“Where will you go?” he asked quietly, in those four words telling Kirygosa of his choice.
“I have not explored the world as you have,” she said. “I am told there are oceans that are warm, not filled with ice. Breezes that are sweetly scented, not brisk and chill. I think I should like to see those places. Find a different pondering place.”
There was no more need for words. She rose, as if she had been waiting only to hear him release her. He too got to his feet, and they embraced tightly.
“Farewell for now, dear Kalec,” she said. “If you ever have need of me, search for me in tropical climes.”
“And if you have need of me, go to the most unlikely place you can think of for a dragon to be. I’m sure I’ll be there.”
His chest ached as he watched her change, catch the wind beneath her wings, and soar upward, wheeling for a moment in farewell and then heading south.
A half an hour later, Kalecgos stood alone at the top of the Nexus. His old adversary-turned-friend Teralygos had been the last one to leave. He headed northeast; unlike Kirygosa, the still peace of the cold lands, the traditional home of the blues, was what the elderly dragon craved.
None of the other dragons had been surprised at his decision; none of them seemed to blame him. Change. It had come, and all the struggling and resistance in the world, all the protesting, all the wishing for things to be the way they used to be—it was all futile. Change would come. What would it do to him, the sole citizen of a now-empty kingdom? Where did his path lie?