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.The weapon was a swirl of glowing green.He could feel the power of demonic energy radiating from it, just as he knew that Illidan could sense Frostmourne’s grim darkness.Suddenly Illidan was not there and Arthas lurched forward, his momentum taking him off balance.He heard a flapping sound and whirled to see Illidan overhead, his great, leathery wings creating a strong wind as he hovered out of reach.They eyed each other, Arthas catching his breath.He could see Illidan was not unaffected by the battle either.Sweat gleamed on the massive, lavender-hued torso.Arthas settled himself, Frostmourne at the ready for when Illidan would swoop in for a renewed assault.Then Illidan did something utterly unexpected.He laughed, shifted the weapon in his hands—and in a flurry of motion seemingly snapped it in two.Each powerful hand now held a single blade.“Behold the Twin Blades of Azzinoth,” Illidan gloated.He flew up higher, whirling the blades in his left and right hands, and Arthas realized that he favored neither one.“Two magnificent warglaives.They can be wielded as a single devastating weapon…or, as you see, as two.It was the favored weapon of a doomguard—a powerful demon captain whom I slew.Ten thousand years ago.How long have you fought with your pretty blade, human? How well do you know it?”The words were intended to unsettle the death knight.Instead, they invigorated him.Illidan might have had this admittedly powerful weapon for longer—but Frostmourne was bound to Arthas, and he to it.It was not a sword as much as an extension of himself.He had known it when he first had the vision of it, when he had just arrived in Northrend.He had been certain of the connection when he laid eyes upon it, waiting for him.And now he felt it surge in his hand, confirming their unity.The demon blades gleamed.Illidan dropped down on Arthas like a stone.Arthas cried out and countered, more certain of this blow than of any he had dealt with the runeblade before, swinging Frostmourne up underneath the descending demon.And as he knew must happen, he felt the sword bite deep into flesh.He pulled, drawing the gash across Illidan’s torso, and felt a deep satisfaction as the former kaldorei screamed in agony.And yet the bastard would not fall.Illidan’s wings beat erratically, still somehow keeping him aloft, and then before Arthas’s shocked gaze his body seemed to shift and darken…almost as if it was made of writhing black, purple, and green smoke.“This is what you have given me,” Illidan cried.His voice, bass to begin with, had somehow grown even deeper.Arthas felt it shiver along his bones.The demon’s eyes glowed fiercely in the swirling darkness that was his face.“This gift—this power.And it will destroy you!”A scream was torn from Arthas’s throat, and he fell again to his knees.Blazing green fire chased itself along his armor, seared his flesh, even dulled Frostmourne’s blue glow for a moment.Over the raw cry of his own torment he heard Illidan laughing.Again the fel fire cascaded over him and Arthas fell forward, gasping.But as the fire faded and he saw Illidan swooping in for the kill, he felt the ancient runeblade he still managed to grasp urge him to rally.Frostmourne was his, and he its, and so united, they were invincible.Just as Illidan lifted his blades for the kill, Arthas raised Frostmourne, thrusting upward with all his strength.He felt the blade connect, pierce flesh, strike deep.Illidan fell hard to the ground.Blood gushed from his bare torso, melting the snow around it with a slow hissing sound.His chest rose and fell in gasps.His vaunted twin blades were of no use now.One had been knocked from his grasp, the other lay in a hand that could not even curl around its hilt.Arthas got to his feet, his body still tingling with the remnants of the fel fire Illidan had hurled at him.He stared at him for a long moment, branding the sight into his mind.He thought about dealing the killing blow, but decided to let the merciless cold of the place do it for him.A greater need burned in him now, and he turned, lifting his eyes to the spire that towered above him.He swallowed hard and simply stood for a moment, knowing, without knowing how he knew it, that something was about to fundamentally change.Then he took a deep breath and entered the cavern.Arthas moved almost as if in a daze, down the lengths of twining tunnels that led ever deeper into the bowels of the earth.His feet seemed guided, and while there was no noise, certainly no one to challenge his right to be here, he felt, rather than heard, a deep thrum of power.He continued to descend, feeling that call of power drawing him ever closer to his destiny.Up ahead was a cold, blue-white light.Arthas moved toward it, almost breaking into a run, and the tunnel opened up into what Arthas could only think of as a throne chamber.For just ahead was a structure that made Arthas’s breath catch in his throat.The Lich King’s prison sat atop of this twining tower, this spire of blue-green, shimmering ice-that-was-not-ice that rose up as if to pierce the very roof of the cavern.A narrow walkway wound, serpentine, about the spire, leading him upward.Still filled with the energy granted to him by the Lich King, Arthas did not tire, but unwelcome memories seemed to dart at him like flies as he ascended, putting one booted foot in front of the other.Words, phrases, images came back to him.“Remember, Arthas.We are paladins.Vengeance cannot be a part of what we must do.If we allow our passions to turn to bloodlust, then we will become as vile as the orcs.”Jaina…oh, Jaina…“No one can seem to deny you anything, least of all me.”“Don’t deny me, Jaina.Don’t ever deny me.Please.”“I never would, Arthas.Never.”He kept going, relentlessly moving upward.“We know so little—we can’t just slaughter them like animals out of our own fear!”“This is bad business, lad.Leave it be.Let it stay here, lost and forgotten….We’ll find another way tae save yer people.Let’s leave now, go back, and find that way.”One foot followed the other.Upward, ever upward.An image of black wings brushed his memory.“I will leave you one final prediction.Just remember, the harder you strive to slay your enemies, the faster you’ll deliver your people into their hands.”Even as these memories tugged at him, clutched at his heart, there was one image, one voice, that was stronger and more compelling than all the others, whispering, encouraging him: “Closer you draw, my champion.My moment of freedom comes…and with it, your ascension to true power.”Upward he climbed, his gaze ever on the peak.On the huge chunk of deep blue ice that imprisoned the one who had first set Arthas’s feet on this path.Closer it drew, until Arthas came to a halt a few feet away.For a long moment, he regarded the figure trapped within, imperfectly glimpsed.Mist rolled off the huge chunk of ice, further obscuring the image.Frostmourne glowed in his hand.From deep inside, Arthas saw the barest hint of an answering flare of two points of glowing blue light.“RETURN THE BLADE,” came the deep, rasping voice in Arthas’s mind, almost unbearably loud.“COMPLETE THE CIRCLE [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]