Arthas: Rise of the Lich King by Christie Golden Read Free Book Online

accompanied Anduin Lothar and Prince—now King—Varian Wrynn to speak with Terenas, to warn them of the orcish threat. His presence had lent weight to Anduin’s statements, and with good reason. Magi of the Kirin Tor didn’t get involved in ordinary politics.
    Nor did they do the ordinary political maneuvering such as inviting royalty to enjoy their hospitality. It was only because Jaina was coming to study that Arthas and his retinue were permitted admittance. Dalaran was beautiful, even more glorious than Capital City. It seemed almost impossibly clean and bright, as a city based so deeply on magic ought to be. There were several graceful towers reaching skyward, their bases white stone and their apexes violet encircled with gold. Many had radiant, hovering stones dancing around them. Others had windows of stained glass that caught the sunlight. Gardens bloomed, the fragrances from wild, fantastical flowers providing a scent so heady Arthas was almost dizzy. Or maybe it was the constant thrum of magic in the air that caused the sensation.
    He felt very ordinary and dingy as they rode into the city, and almost wished they hadn’t slept outside last night. If they had stayed at Ambermill, at least he’d have had a chance to have bathed. But then, he and Jaina wouldn’t have gotten a chance to spy on the internment camp.
    He glanced at his companion. Her blue eyes were wide with awe and excitement, her lips slightly parted. She turned to Arthas, those lips curving in a smile.
    “Aren’t I lucky to be studying here?”
    “Sure,” he said, smiling on her behalf. She was drinking this in like one who had been given water after a week in the desert, but he felt…unwanted. He clearly did not have the affinity for wielding magic as she did.
    “I’m told that outsiders aren’t usually welcome,” she said. “I think that’s a shame. It would be nice to see you again.”
    She blushed, and for a moment, Arthas forgot about the intimidation the city emanated, and heartily agreed that it would be nice to see Lady Jaina Proudmoore again, too.
    Very nice indeed.

    “Again, ye little gnome girl! I’ll pull yer pigtails, ye—Ooof!”
    The shield caught the taunting dwarf full in the helmed face, and he actually stumbled back a step or two. Arthas slashed with the sword, grinning beneath his own helm as it connected solidly. Then suddenly, he was sailing through the air to land hard on his back. His vision was filled with the image of a looming head with a long beard, and he was barely able to lift his blade in time to parry. With a grunt, he pulled his legs in to his chest and then extended them hard, catching Muradin in the gut. This time it was the dwarf who went hurtling backward. Arthas brought his legs down swiftly and leaped up in a single smooth motion, charging his teacher who was still on the ground, coming at him with blow after blow until Muradin spoke the words that Arthas honestly never thought he’d hear:
    “I yield!”
    It took everything Arthas had to halt the strike, pulling up and back so abruptly he lost his balance and stumbled. Muradin lay where he was, his chest rising and falling.
    Fear squeezed Arthas’s heart. “Muradin? Muradin!”
    A hearty chuckle escaped from the thick, bronze beard. “Well done, lad, well done indeed!” He struggled to sit up and Arthas was there, reaching out a hand to help haul the dwarf to his feet. Muradin pumped the hand happily. “So, ye were payin’ attention after all when I taught ye my special trick.”
    Relieved and pleased with the praise, Arthas grinned. Some of what Muradin taught him would be repeated, honed, and reinforced in his paladin training. But other things—well, he didn’t think Uther the Lightbringer would know about feet planted firmly in the belly, or the rather handy trick regarding the efficacy of a broken wine bottle. There was fighting and there was fighting, and Muradin Bronzebeard seemed determined that Arthas Menethil would