Day of the Dragon by Richard A. Knaak

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            The first mage clearly took some umbrage, but he kept himself calm as he replied. “Very well! Perhaps this will interest you more. . . . I believe Deathwing is on the move again.”

            This startled the rest, the elder woman included. Night suddenly changed into day, but the wizards ignored what, for them, was a common thing in this chamber. Clouds drifted past the head of the third of their number, who clearly did not believe this statement.

            “Deathwing is dead!” the third declared, his form the only one hinting at corpulence. “He plunged into the sea months ago after this very council and a gathering of our strongest struck the mortal blow! No dragon, even him, could withstand such might!”

            Some of the others nodded, but the first went on. “And where was the corpse? Deathwing was like no other dragon. Even before the goblins sealed the adamantium plates to his scaly hide, he offered a threat with the potential to dwarf that of the Horde. . . .”

            “But what proof do you have of his continued existence?” This from a young woman clearly in the bloom of youth. Not as experienced as the others, but still powerful enough to be one of the council. “What?”

            “The death of two red dragons, two of Alexstrasza’s get. Torn asunder in a manner only one of their own kind—one of gargantuan proportions—could have managed.”

            “There are other large dragons.”

            A storm began to rage, the lightning and rain falling upon the wizards and yet touching neither them nor the floor. The storm passed in the blink of an eye, a blazing sun once more appearing overhead. The first of the Kirin Tor gave this latest display not even the least of his interest. “You have obviously never seen the work of Deathwing, or you’d never make that statement.”

            “It may be as you say,” interjected the fifth, the outline of a vaguely elven visage appearing and disappearing faster than the storm. “And, if so, a matter of import. But we hardly can concern ourselves with it for now. If Deathwing lives and now strikes out at his greatest rival’s kind, then it only benefits us. After all, Alexstrasza is still the captive of Dragonmaw clan, and it is her offspring that those orcs have used for years to wreak bloodshed and havoc all over the Alliance. Have we all so soon forgotten the tragedy of the Third Fleet of Kul Tiras? I suspect that Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore never will. After all, he lost his eldest son and everyone else aboard those six great ships when the monstrous red leviathans fell upon them. Proudmoore would likely honor Deathwing with a medal if it proved true that the black beast was responsible for these two deaths.”

            No one argued that point, not even the first mage. Of the mighty vessels, only splinters of wood and a few torn corpses had been left to mark the utter destruction. It had been to Lord Admiral Proudmoore’s credit that he had not faltered in his resolve, immediately ordering the building of new warships to replace those destroyed and pushing on with the war.

            “And, as I stated earlier, we can hardly concern ourselves with that situation now, not with so many more immediate issues with which to deal.”