Sylvanas (World of Warcraft) by Christie Golden

Author:Christie Golden [Golden, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2022-03-29T00:00:00+00:00

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Sylvanas did not know how long this seeming freedom from Arthas’s control would last. She needed to know more, and she had a hunch that the demons had not traveled far. She sent her banshees to look for them, and, as Sylvanas had expected, the demons took the bait and extended an invitation for her to speak with them. She followed the directions her scout had given her, floating over the pine needles and moss that covered the earth of Silverpine, heading in the direction of the eerie, sickly light.

Balnazzar greeted her with the exaggerated politeness of a court newcomer, who knew what to do but not how to do it. “Lady Sylvanas. We are pleased that you came.”

But Sylvanas had had enough of such frivolous courtesies in Silvermoon. She had no wish to banter with demons, so, as she had done in life, she quickly took control of the meeting.

“How could I not? For some reason, I no longer hear the Lich King’s voice in my head. My will is my own once again. You dreadlords seem to know why.”

Varimathras answered, with barely concealed delight, “We’ve discovered that the Lich King is losing his power! As it wanes, so too does his ability to command undead such as you.”

I am the only one like me, she thought but did not say. “What of King Arthas? What about his powers?”

Balnazzar, the most elegant among them, said, “Though his runeblade, Frostmourne, carries powerful enchantments itself, Arthas’s own powers will also fade in time. It is inevitable.”

She liked the word, and thought of the blade that had taken her life. The twining runes etched into the sword, glowing with pale blue light. Sylvanas could not read the runes, but she had stared at the blade often enough, memorizing their shapes.

Now the reason for their extreme unction had become clear. “You seek to overthrow him, and want my help to do it,” Sylvanas stated.

If Balnazzar was the most elegant, then Detheroc was the most oafish. His large belly looked soft compared with the powerful physiques of the other two, but his tiny eyes flashed with rage and the hatred for Arthas that poured off him seemed almost—almost—as strong as her own.

“The Legion may be defeated, but we are the nathrezim! We will not let some…upstart human get the best of us. Arthas must fall!”

Balnazzar stepped in, his voice soothing and reasonable. “The time to strike is now. The Lich King strays from the path of his master, and Arthas is too consumed by pride and ambition to be the instrument that is necessary. Confused and distracted, both will be easy to overcome. But we must make sure we do not waste this rare opportunity. The lich Kel’Thuzad is far too loyal to betray his master. You, on the other hand…” He paused, as if the bluntness of the sentiment were too indelicate for him.

Sylvanas had no such concern. “Hate him,” she spat. It felt good to speak the words after thinking them in silence for so long.

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