Chapter 701

Chapter 701: The Journey on Dragonhawk

Early morning at Krasus Square found a group of dwarves making a noisy commotion near the gryphon nest, though their words were unclear.

Jesse rested his hand on the hilt of the Azuresong Mageblade, sensing magical energy flowing from the sword into his palm. He felt this energy—more than mere arcane power—seep into his skin and intertwine with his own warm blood, coursing through his entire body.

The sword’s strength now far surpassed its past might. He sensed it clearly, the awe-inspiring power of the Dragon King’s scales a constant reminder.

Just then, Vereesa waved to him from among a group of dragonhawk knights clad in colorful battle robes. Jesse glanced at the elven knights watching him and the massive crimson dragonhawks clinging to their perches, his heart pounding nervously.

He couldn’t tell if his unease came from becoming one of the rare humans permitted into Quel’Thalas, or from riding a creature that resembled a dragon, an eagle, and a serpent all at once as it carried him skyward. Or perhaps it was the imminent meeting with his partner’s parents that left him feeling unsettled. He suspected the last reason weighed heaviest.

Approaching the dragonhawk knights, Vereesa said, "I’m not skilled at riding dragonhawks either, Jesse. We’ll each ride with a knight. Dragonhawks can’t carry three or four like gryphons—two is already a struggle."

Jesse nodded. Vereesa mounted a dragonhawk behind a female elven knight. A male knight then addressed him: "Fair morning, Jesse Seso. I’ll take you to Quel’Thalas."

The knight’s Sayaad was thickly accented, his words and grammar imperfect yet spoken with smooth confidence, no trace of hesitation.

"I’ve never ridden a dragonhawk," Jesse said. "What should I know?"

"We’ll keep you safe—no falling off. Unlike gryphons, dragonhawks beat their wings much wider in flight. It’ll take some getting used to."

The knight blew a whistle. A scarlet dragonhawk scrambled down from its perch using sharp claws, a broad double saddle already strapped to its back.

Though its wings were vast and its head resembled a gaunt, sharp-beaked drake, its frame was far slighter than a gryphon’s. The double saddle looked as absurd as strapping a hot-air balloon basket onto a lion.

The elven knight nimbly climbed into the saddle and offered a hand. Jesse grasped it, clambered onto the perch, and settled securely behind him. With the knight’s help, he fastened the "safety belt" around his waist and legs. Even these straps felt exquisite—smooth as enchanted cloth belts he’d never find in Stormwind.

Once seated, he looked toward Vereesa. She gave him a thumbs-up from behind her knight. Jesse nodded and returned the gesture.

Her dragonhawk lifted first, its red wings blotting out his view until his own mount’s wings did the same.

The elven knight murmured in Sayaad. The dragonhawk answered with a low croon before its claws scraped against the perch. With one powerful wingbeat, it surged into the air.

Jesse expected a jolt harsher than a gryphon’s or drake’s, but the ascent was gentle. Barely any discomfort later, they soared high.

The dragonhawk dipped, skimming Lordamere Lake’s surface and spraying water mist before climbing again. Jesse’s stomach lurched as wind whipped his face, forcing him to shield his eyes and mouth with his cloak.

"Do we fly north or south of Alterac?" Jesse asked.

"We avoid Stromgarde territory. Entering Eastweald from the north means chillier winds, but it’s faster," the knight replied.

They glided over pine forests bordering Lordamere Lake. To the right stretched the snow-capped Alterac Mountains.

"Hard to believe the mage who slew Teron Gorefiend and stalled the demon general at Nethergarde is so young," the knight said, glancing back. "When Lady Vereesa Windrunner ordered me to await Jesse Seso, I pictured a bearded, middle-aged man. Most famous human heroes fit that mold."

"The Dark Portal war forces more young people to step forward," Jesse said.

"True for Quel’Thalas too," the knight agreed. "Lady Vereesa Windrunner is the youngest Farstrider. Before the Dark Portal, few so young became Ranger Lords. Even captain was rare."

Jesse asked, "Youngest? How old is she? Actually—better not know."

They flew into Tirisfal’s eastern hills and peaks. Jesse glimpsed a distant white speck atop the northernmost mountain.

The Holy Light Monastery—Lordaeron’s largest church. Rumors claimed its cathedral dwarfed even the royal city’s ancient one.

Remote and inhabited mostly by clergy and Silver Hand Knights, it remained obscure compared to the capital’s grand cathedral. Yet after the Kingdom of Lordaeron’s fall, its fame would eclipse the royal city’s until only the northern monastery endured in memory.

When King Terenas II commanded him to study with the church, he’d likely meant this monastery.

Archbishop Alonsus Faol, chief fundraiser for Stormwind’s rebuilding and overseer of its Cathedral of Light, often visited Stormwind despite being Lordaeron-born. He was now both a key Alliance leader and master of the Cathedral.

Jesse couldn’t ignore the king’s order. But since Terenas hadn’t specified where he must learn, waiting at Stormwind’s Cathedral of Light for the archbishop seemed reasonable. As the Kingdom of Stormwind’s court mage advisor, it fit perfectly.

By now, Jesse had grown accustomed to the dragonhawk’s rhythmic sway. Once used to it, the ride proved smoother than a gryphon’s—gentle, steady, free of abrupt stops or turns, like a fish gliding through sky.

Ahead flowed the Barras River, born in Tirisfal’s northern peaks and winding through wooded hills. Past it lay the Tirisfal Glades. Beyond stretched lands Jesse had never seen: Eastweald, future Plaguelands.