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the best of us. He paused, looking at them each in turn.  Arthas must fall!
The glowing green gaze settled upon Sylvanas.  As you have been watching us, little ghost, so
have we been observing as well. It is obvious that the lich, Kel Thuzad, is far too loyal to betray
his master. There appears to be& affection between the two. His gray lips curved in a dangerous
smile.  But you, on the other hand& 
 Hate him. She did not think she could hide that truth even if she wanted to, so fiercely did it
burn inside her.  We are united in that much, dreadlord. I have my own reasons for seeking
vengeance. Arthas murdered my people and turned me into this& monstrosity. She paused for a
moment, the loathing of both Arthas and what he had done to her so intense it took away her
ability to speak. They waited, patiently, smugly.
They thought they could use her. They would be wrong.
 I may take part in your bloody coup, but I will do so in my own way. She wanted them as
allies, but they needed to know that she would be no toy.  I will not exchange one master for
another. If you wish my aid, then you must accept that.
Detheroc smiled.  We will slay the death knight together, then.
Sylvanas nodded, and a slow smile crept across her ghostly face.
Your days have numbers, King Arthas Menethil. And I& I am the hourglass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Arthas rubbed his temple, going over and over the visions he had seen. Always before,
communication from the Lich King had come only from Frostmourne. But the instant the
crippling pain had struck him, Arthas had actually seen the being he served for the first time.
The Lich King was alone, in the middle of a vast cavern, as imprisoned in the unnatural ice as
Frostmourne had been. But this had been no sleek covering of his form. The encasing ice had
been fractured, as if someone had broken off a piece and left the jagged remains behind.
Obscured by the ice as he was, the Lich King was imperfectly glimpsed, but his voice sliced in
the death knight s mind as he cried out in torment:
 Danger draws near the Frozen Throne! Power is fading& . Time is running out& . You must
return to Northrend immediately! And then, piercing Arthas like a lance in the gut:  Obey!
Each time it happened, Arthas felt dazed and sick. The power that had pumped through him like
adrenaline when he was merely human was receding, taking with it more than it had originally
given. He was weak and vulnerable& something he had never once imagined he would be when
he first grasped Frostmourne and turned away from everything he thought he believed in. His
face was greasy with sweat as he laboriously mounted Invincible and rode to meet Kel Thuzad.
The lich was waiting for him, hovering, his fluttering robes and general demeanor somehow
radiating concern.
 So the seizures have been getting worse? he asked.
Arthas hesitated. Should he take the lich into his confidence? Would Kel Thuzad attempt to
wrest power from him? No, he decided. The former necromancer had never led him astray.
Always, his loyalty was to the Lich King and Arthas himself.
The king nodded. He felt like his head would come off with the gesture.  Yes. With my powers
drained, I can barely command my own warriors. The Lich King warned me that if I didn t reach
Northrend soon, all could be lost. We must depart quickly.
If it was possible for blazing, empty eye sockets to exude worry, then Kel Thuzad s did so now.
 Of course, Your Majesty. You have not and will not be forsaken. We will depart as soon as you
believe you are 
 There s been a change of plans, King Arthas. You re not going anywhere.
It was evidence of his weakening powers that he had not even sensed them. Arthas stared, utterly
taken by surprise as the three dreadlords surrounded him.
 Assassins! cried Kel Thuzad.  It s a trap! Defend your king from those 
But the sound of a gate slamming shut drowned out the lich s call to action. Arthas drew
Frostmourne. For the first time since he had touched, had bonded with the sword, it felt heavy
and almost lifeless in his hands. The runes along its blade barely gleamed at all, and it felt more
like a lump of metal than the well-balanced, beautiful weapon it had always been.
The undead rushed at him, and for a wild moment Arthas was catapulted back in time to his first
encounter with the walking dead. He was again standing outside the little farmhouse, assaulted
by the stench of decay and almost numbed with horror as things that should have been dead
attacked him. He had long since moved past any horror or repugnance at their existence; indeed,
he had come to think of them with affection. They were his subjects; he had cleansed them of
life, to serve the great glory of the Lich King. It was not that they moved, or fought; it was that
they fought him. They were utterly under the control of dreadlords. Grimly, using all the strength
he yet possessed, he fought them back, a strange, sickening sensation filling him. He had never
expected they would turn on him.
Over the sounds of the conflict, Balnazzar s voice reached Arthas, the tone gloating.  You
should never have returned, human. Weakened as you are, we have assumed control over the
majority of your warriors. It seems your reign was short-lived, King Arthas.
Arthas gritted his teeth and from somewhere deep inside him dredged up more energy, more will
to fight. He would not die here.
But there were so many of them so many that he had once nearly effortlessly directed and
commanded, now turning implacably against him. He knew they were mindless, that they would
obey whoever was the strongest. And yet somehow& it hurt. He d made them& .
He was growing increasingly weak, and at one point was even unable to block a blow directly to
his midsection. The dull sword clanged against his armor, and he suffered no major wound, but
that the ghoul had gotten past his defenses alarmed him.
 There are too many of them, my king! Kel Thuzad s sepulchral voice said, the tenor of loyalty
in it bringing unexpected tears to Arthas s eyes.  Flee escape from the city! I ll find my way
out and meet you in the wilderness. It is your only chance, my liege!
He knew the lich was right. With a cry, Arthas clumsily dismounted. A wave of his hand and
Invincible became insubstantial, a ghost horse instead of a skeletal one, and disappeared. Arthas
would summon him again when he was safely away. He charged, gripping the enfeebled
Frostmourne in both hands and swinging, no longer trying to kill or even wound his opponents
they were indeed too many but simply to clear a path.
The gates were closed, but this palace was where he had grown to manhood, and he knew it
intimately. Knew every gate, wall, and hidden passageway, and instead of heading for the gates,
which he would be unable to raise by himself, he went deeper into the palace. The undead
followed. Arthas raced through the back corridors that had once been the private quarters of the
royal family, which he had once traversed with Jaina s hand clasped tightly in his. He stumbled
and his mind reeled.
How had he come to this moment fleeing through an empty palace from his own creations, his
subjects, whom he had vowed to protect. But no he d slain them. Betrayed his subjects for the
power the Lich King offered. The power that was now bleeding from him as if from a wound
that could not be closed.
Father& Jaina&
He closed his mind against the memories. Distractions would not serve him. Only speed and
cunning would.
The narrow passageways limited the number of undead able to follow, and he was able to close
and bolt the doors against them, delaying them. Finally he reached his quarters and the secret [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]