Night of the Dragon

TEN

The howls were like those of no hound, though there was in them that same sort of bestial determination to hunt down the prey. To those who listened very close, they were more akin to the voices of men...or dwarves.

The skardyn raced along the landscape of Grim Batol, more animal than thinking creature. They hopped along the jagged ground, moving with far more swiftness than their stocky shapes would have let on. Others crawled up and over the rocks, even clinging to the underside as they searched for prey.

With eagerness, they sniffed the earth, the air, what life there was around them. They knew, through both their mistress and their hunt master, where exactly the prey had last been located, but there was always the chance that other intruders might be near, such as the Bronzebeards. The skardyn had a special interest in hunting down their distant cousins, if possible.

After all, Bronzebeards made, for them, good eating.

Whether on two legs or all lour limbs, whether on the ground or clambering along the rock face, the wild pack quickly covered the distances. Not far behind, a small band of dragonspawn kept pace. They were not the hunt masters, merely the handlers. That position belonged to the foremost of the dark lady's scaly servants, the drakonid, Rask.

Rask was as larger than the others of his monstrous kind as he was more vicious. Yet, he also had a quick mind for a drakonid and, in some ways, a more cunning one than even a blood elf or dwarf. He knew things of his mistress that even Zendarin did not and, because of those, he obeyed her commands with something approaching... worship.

With as much bloodlust as the skardyn, he led the dragonspawn under his command in search of the prey. His mistress had told him what to expect and, despite the immensity of his mission, Rask was only too eager to confront the intruders.

"Move..." he grated at the nearest skardyn, emphasizing his impatience with the crack of a whip. "Find them...."

The skardyn scampered on. They were close now. Very close.

Rask turned to the dragonspawn nearest him. "The signal..."

The guard gave him a savage grin, then took the torch he was carrying and waved it three times toward the rear of the hunt.

A shimmering form briefly materialized, then vanished again.

Rask nodded. "Good..." He cracked his whip at a nearby skardyn. "We have them...."

"There is no longer any reason for pretense." Krasus declared grimly. "What we seek now actively seeks us...."

"Must you ever state the obvious?" Kalec remarked with some lingering enmity.

Krasus ignored him, instead spreading his arms. The cowled figure began transforming—

But with a sudden groan, he doubled over, still very much looking like some variation of elf and not in the least like his true identity.

As Iridi leapt to his aid, Kalec began his transformation. Unlike Krasus, he suffered no setback as he went from fighter to dragon. "Keep the old one safe!" the blue dragon ordered. He took to the air.

The draenei knew that there was some mistake in letting Kalec— or Kalecgos now—go, but Krasus again needed her. She leaned over the fallen figure, trying to see what she could do.

"This is...all planned." he gasped. "This weakness! This was... begun long before I came here...."

"What do you mean?" the priestess asked as she ran her hands a few inches above his body in hopes of sensing the source of his agony.

To her surprise, he uttered a harsh laugh. "Who—who else would they expect to come in search of the truth? The blues...yes...because they are the guardians of magic! But—but more so, they would expect me!"

Iridi could make sense of neither his words nor his pain. She thought that she sensed something near his midsection, but it was too vague a sensation, as if either very small or very well masked.

"Never mind me! Do not let—do not let Kalec go to them! I still have the means to turn their plans against them! I need only a moment more!"

She looked up. It was already too late to summon the blue dragon back. Iridi told Krasus that.

"Young fool..." The dragon mage let out another gasp, then seemed to recover somewhat. "I was merely caught by surprise. If he only could have waited..."

As he spoke, Krasus held up one gloved hand. In it, Iridi beheld a tiny golden shard. It was both beautiful and yet somehow awful to behold.

"Of all places," Krasus continued. "Grim Batol is the only one in which I would dream of using even this, for surely it must still have a tie to the evil within the dread mount." He straightened. "I regret only that Kalec might again suffer when he should not."

His entire frame shook. His eyes rolled up into his lids. Iridi at first thought that he was having some convulsion, but then the draenei realized that he was casting a spell of potent and very dangerous power.

"In addition to the orcs, there were, in the past, other dragons here," intoned the lanky spellcaster. "And among them was the darkest of the dark. I call upon that vile memory to strengthen this spell now—"

But whatever Krasus intended never had the chance to come to fruition. Instead, the golden fragment turned a sudden black.

Krasus hissed in pain and, despite his best efforts, finally had to let the shard drop. As it struck the ground, the shard resumed its original coloring and glow.

The priestess immediately reached for it, but her companion shouted, "No!"

Her fingers did not even touch the fragment, but suddenly the draenei experienced a jarring shift in perspective. She saw the shadows of dragons—hundreds of dragons—surrounding her like ghosts. No...not ghosts...but memories...

Then, the image past, and she was again back with Krasus... only they were no longer alone.

From all over the landscape, squat, bestial creatures that looked almost like dwarves but were scaled like reptiles and often ran on all fours attacked. As some neared, they straightened and removed from their backs wicked pikes or whips.

Krasus gestured toward the nearest.

On the creature's forehead, a disconcerting rune flashed in and out of existence.

"That symbol should be known by no one here!" the dragon mage blurted. "No one save—"

He got no further, for a lash wrapped around the hand that had gestured. The dwarven nightmare wielding it tugged hard, only to grunt in surprise as Krasus readily kept his ground.

"I am not so easy a target as that even now," he hissed at his attacker. With incredible strength, he used but the one hand to pull his unsuspecting foe forward...and into another just lunging.

Iridi, meanwhile, kicked out at another creature seeking to grab her from the side. As that one tumbled back, she struck another at the neck with the base of her hand.

A pike shot past her head, missing by inches. As its wlelder pulled back for a second attempt, she followed Krasus's example and grabbed part of the long pole. Utilizing the beast's own mass against it, the priestess threw him up and over her.

However, the winding lash of a whip tugged the pike away before Iridi could make use of it. Undaunted, she summoned her staff, praying only that whoever had the other would not choose now to try again to summon it to them.

To her side, Krasus fought with all the hand skill of one of her calling, but the very fact that he had to do so was of great concern to the priestess. Here was a dragon of clearly tremendous might, yet he could neither become himself nor use his inherent magic.

That made her wonder what she could do. If these creatures were immune to spells due to the rune, then the staff would only be as good as her ability to use it as a physical weapon.

But still Iridi pointed it at the next one to charge her. She concentrated....

The scaly dwarf froze in mid-lunge, his horrific mouth still open in preparation for a bite into her flesh.

Startled by her success, the draenei almost ignored an even more monstrous foe approaching. It resembled in basic shape one of her own kind or even a human or elf, but looked as if one of its parents had been of Krasus's or Kalec's race, although as black as midnight.

Him!" It hissed. "The mistress wants him! The others are to slay!"

Iridi focused the staff on the drakonid. A tremendous bellow rocked the sky above. She looked up to see Kalec, a strange gray aura around him, plummeting.

Krasus pulled her back. "Go, draenei! I will fend them off—" Then, he stiffened. The blood seemed to drain from his already-pale countenance. He struggled to keep upright.

"No mageslayer has such power!" he snapped. "No—"

The same gray aura overlook him. He let out a groan. Yet, as he teetered, the dragon mage thrust a hand toward the priestess. “I said leave!"

The world around Iridi vanished.

It was difficult to contain the high elf in the tunnels, and not because of any claustrophobia on her account. Rather, Vereesa chafed at not being able to rush out and claim the life of her treacherous cousin.

"He must step out on occasion!" she insisted not for the first time. "I need but one well-placed arrow to finish what must be finished!"

"And 'tis more likely that he'll finish you before you notch that arrow!" Rom argued. "He's like no blood elf I've seen! He's hungerin' for magic, aye, but he's got plenty already to toss at you or anyone else! He's got that staff I told you about, plus a pet mageslayer!"

"I am no wizard like my husband; that would hardly affect me!"

"You've not seen this mageslayer! Somethin's been done to it, and I lay that blame on the dark lady!"

Her eyes narrowed. "You have spoken of this person before! What is she? Another blood elf? A human sorcerer?"

The veteran warrior pulled out his pipe, more to calm his nerves than to smoke any of the foul stuff he had on hand. "Don't know much about her, but I've hazarded a guess or two. She's real pale and what features she has look maybe human, maybe elf, maybe a mix."

"A blending of those races is rare, as I can attest from my sons. What do you mean... 'what features she has'?"

Rom recalled the last time that he had seen the lady in black. It had been from a fortunately long distance. "She wears a veil, but it don't hide the fact that one side of her face—by the beard of my grandfather, most of the whole damned side of her body—was at some point burnt real bad!"

"She's a Forsaken!" one of the other dwarves interjected.

"She's no Forsaken," countered their leader. "There's life in her, even though it looks to be in the form of madness and evil!"

Rhonin's mate mulled this over. "Does she have a name?"

"None that any of us has heard. They all treat her like she's a queen—and a nasty one, at that. There's fear in the skardyn—"

"Skardyn?"

"Once dwarves of the Dark Iron clan, so it looks to be. More beast than thinking creature. They've become scaled like the dragonspawn and will oft run on all fours."

"Their bite's poisonous," Grenda offered.

"Not poisonous, but it'll make you sick because of the filth they eat. Don't care whether it's rotting or raw, the skardyn."

Vereesa nodded. From her expression, Rom could guess that she was comparing the skardyn to some of the changes in her own race. Finally, she said, "Who do you think this sorceress is? What is she doing in Grim Batol?"

"Me, the best I can guess is that she might be from Dalaran, but that's just 'cause I know she's got magic. As for what she has in mind, if it involves the dread mount, then it's nothln' good, as the roars will attest."

He had already told her about the cries, even the ones that had saved them from the blood elf's trap. Vereesa showed some interest, but only wherever Zendarin was concerned.

"I cannot just leave him be!" she blurted again. "I will not!"

Rom groaned at her obsessiveness, even though he shared that trait far too much.

One of the sentries slipped in among the others.

"Rask's out on the hunt for somethin'!" the excited guard called.

"What'd you hear?" Rom demanded.

"Him shoutin' at a pack of skardyn combin' a trail like a bunch of wolves! There're at least two or three dragonspawn with 'im!"

The dwarven commander rubbed his bearded chin. "Rask don't go out unless that lady's got somethin' special in mind. He's her top lizard, the only one who don't have to listen to your cousin, If he don't feel like it..."

"Would he know where Zendarin would be located?"

Rom swore. "My lady! Goin' after Rask right now would be as foolish as goin' after your cousin!"

"Then what is your point in being here, Rom? Those that most might shed light on what you claim your mission seem too much a threat to fight!"

She bit her lip the moment she finished, obviously apologetic for her outburst and the condemnation in it. Silence filled the tunnels.

Tapping his pipe against the nearest wall—and only realizing then that he had never gotten around to filling, much less smoking, it—Rom muttered, "You've not said anything that I've not said to myself. I've been hesitant, yes, because of some of the debacles of earlier, but the time out when we ran across you, I was plannin' to go into Grim Batol myself and there's no lie."

Grenda all but jumped up and down in fury. "I knew it! I knew there was something in your mind—"

"Quiet there! Keep screaming like that and you'll bring the skardyn all the way here!"

"Who would this Rask be hunting?" Vereesa demanded. "Who else is out there?"

"Didn't think there was anyone else but us until you showed up —and that was you who saved me earlier with that blazing bolt, wasn't it?"

The ranger nodded, only half listening. "Rhonin? Could it be Rhonin? He may be danger!"

Rom did not like where this was going. "The wizard? He wouldn't be here and, besides, he's a powerful one that lad is!"

"Perhaps...perhaps not." She turned toward the entrance. "He has been straining himself to assist me while still guiding Dalaran's affairs. He never thought to be in command of the latter, but they turned to him in desperation. Weariness is his greatest enemy...and you yourself said that this mageslayer is also not like those he has fought in the past."

With some reluctance, the dwarf agreed. "It's a strong one...."

"I must go." She pushed through the other dwarves who, uncertain as to what Rom desired, did nothing.

He let out an epithet. Stuffing away the unused pipe, he checked his ax. "Don't just stand there," Rom growled at the warriors nearest Vereesa. "You think she's going out alone?"

The other dwarves let out a lusty cry and followed Vereesa up. Rom grimaced, feeling too tired to fight, but also too tired not to. He did not quite understand the feeling and gave up trying to think it through. What mattered was that they were already heading outagain, and it was up to him to see that the others did not get killed.

And that now included the ranger.

The guard who had earlier given warning of Rask's hunt was already shoving the stone out of place. He climbed up, Vereesa not far behind.

There came an oath from above. The other fighters hesitated, all eyes on the entrance.

Rom pushed his way to the front. "What is it? Dragonspawn? The blood elf?"

They made way for him. Despite one hand, Rom easily scrambled up.

He gaped. This is definitely getting too complicated for an old dwarf...

A body lay sprawled only yards from the tunnels. Yet, it was not any dragonspawn, drakonid, nor even blood elf. In fact, Rom was not quite certain what it was, wrapped so well in a wide cloak.

Vereesa knelt beside the prone figure. With much caution—for here of all places a still form could easily be a trap—the ranger turned the body over.

It was female... and not in the least what anyone would have expected. Even the high elf, who was surely more familiar with other races than the Bronzebeards, was obviously startled by what they had found.

But at least she could give it the name that, for the moment, escaped Rom's mind.

"A draenei?"

Krasus saw no sign of Kalec, the younger dragon's impetuousness very likely doing him in. Still, Krasus could not fault his counterpart, for he was not faring much better.

The mageslayer materialized, utilizing a blink ability of which the dragon mage was very familiar. What he was not in the least familiar with were both its durability—his magic should have overwhelmed the elemental—but also how that magic was also thrown back at him with an intensity no mageslayer had.

He now knew what it was that he had confronted much earlier when sending his mind into Grim Batol. At the time, Krasus had had some suspicions, but he had been unable to completely accept the truth.

Now, the truth was closing in on him.

The mageslayer was a translucent, purple-blue shade with vague hints of spikes or something else sharp jutting from where its shoulders would be and a fearsome, almost avian head. Two blazing white orbs were the only things truly distinct. At times, it seemed to have arms, but other times nothing.

But whatever its true form, it was no mageslayer as Krasus had ever come across in the annals of Azeroth. There was powerful magic in its alteration, very powerful.

As powerful, say, as that of a black dragon?

Could this be... could this be Deathwing's doing? Krasus wondered. After all, there were both drakonid and dragonspawn of the black flight involved in this infernal attack.

He stumbled back, seeking some delay while he planned for this unforeseen abomination. A pair of the scaly dwarves immediately attacked, but although he could not fight them directly, at least now the dragon mage knew how to handle the vermin.

He opened his mouth, the lips and jaws stretching farther than mortally possible. From his gullet, a burst of flames struck the ground in front of the dwarves.

The ground exploded, flames, rock, and earth rising up, then showering down on the creatures.

A lash struck him hard on the arm. Krasus winced, but the pain was minor. He turned to confront the drakonid.

"So, your master lives, does he?" Krasus demanded of the fiend.

The drakonid only laughed. He looked not at Krasus, but behind him.

The dragon mage reacted instinctively, but his reflexes were too slow. He had kept an eye on the mageslayer.... only what he thought was the mageslayer was now only an afterimage, a residueof where it had formerly been.

And now it stood right behind him.

Again, it screamed in his head that this was not the way a mageslayer behaved. Someone had gone to great lengths to make it far more insidious.

He could not transform, but he could still cast. Taking a cue from his success with the dwarven creatures, Krasus focused not on the mageslayer itself, but the elemental's surroundings.

Yet, before his magic could affect the ground and the air, Krasus felt the forces he wielded twist from his control, instead pouring into the mageslayer—and right back at their caster.

So close and against such an unexpected extension of the monster's ability to absorb spells, Krasus had no chance to shield himself against his own magic. He was struck so hard he flew into the air and battered against the rocks. As he landed, the ground exploded, another aspect of the attack with which he had intended to at least distract the nearby elemental.

Again, Krasus was tossed about. Under normal circumstances, nothing that he faced would have done him much harm.... But there was nothing normal where Grim Batol was ever concerned.

He landed on his back, stunned beyond his belief. He had been careless, very careless. Worse, he had been guided like a bull to the slaughter.

The drakonid looked over him. The black fiend held out a clawed hand to show Krasus something held within.

Though his vision was blurred, the dragon mage recognized it immediately. It was a tiny, golden shard... but not the same shard that he himself had earlier wielded.

The drakonid grinned wider. His long red tongue darted in and out as he cheerfully said, "The mistress has been expecting you for a long, longtime..."