Night of the Dragon

TWELVE

The beautiful, sun-blond maiden smiled at Kalec, her arms beckoning to him. He reached for her, but each time he thought that their hands would touch, she seemed just a little more out of reach.

Frustrated, Kalec charged toward her. Yet, although she clearly wanted him to come to her, he never quite made it.

Anveena... he called, though his mouth did not open.

Then, other figures materialized around her. A tall, noble-looking human male...whose skin was rotting. That ghost faded, becoming the shadow of a huge, skeletal dragon... a frost wyrm. Then, even that vanished, to be replaced by a high-elven figure wearing flamboyant albeit dark garments, including a wide-brimmed hat.

Kalec pointed desperately behind her, trying to let her know of any of the fearsome shadows, but, especially this one.

Anveena... itis Dar 'Khan! It's Dar 'Khan—

"It's Dar'Khan!" he roared.

"Kalec!" Krasus's voice cut through the remnants of his nightmare... enabling him to see that the waking world was no better.

They were chained tight in an underground chamber that surely had to be part of Grim Batol. He glared at his companion. "So, once again, the great Korialstrasz has saved the world... or could I be mistaken?"

The dragon mage showed no offense at his remarks, instead asking, "Do those dreams come often?"

Kalec looked away, not wanting to discuss the matter. However, the other captive would not let it go.

"How often do you dream of her, Kalec?"

He whipped his head back to Krasus. "Every time I sleep or am unconscious for other reasons, such as now! Does that please you?"

Krasus shook his head. "No."

The younger male exhaled. "We're in Grim Batol, aren't we? Is it Deathwing who has us?"

"No... It is Sintharia... or Sinestra, as she seems to prefer, since she wishes to claim no tie to her dread mate." The dragon mage went into detail on his encounter with Deathwing's consort.

Much of Kalec's anger toward Krasus was pushed back as he listened in disbelief. He looked up at the tiny shard.

"That is what keeps us so weak?"

"That... and my little pet," came another voice.

The pair looked at the entrance, where the blood elf who Krasus had said was called Zendarin now stood. Behind him in the corridor beyond was a shining mass of energy, an elemental that could only be a mageslayer. Yet, the blue, attuned to the many aspects of magic, immediately sensed that this was not an ordinary mageslayer, that much about it had been altered dramatically... and made the fiend a threat even to dragons.

Kalec could sense that the elemental wanted to draw nearer, but Zendarin waved the creature farther back.

"It's developed some interesting... tastes," the blood elf remarked. "There are points to it that now are reminiscent of a mana eater, for instance."

"What do you want?" Krasus asked.

Zendarin grinned. "I want to be your friend...."

Kalec snorted.

"You don't believe me? I've learned several things recently, especially about the dear lady in black. I've a mind that you and I could see eye-to-eye on her in some regards...."

"You play with your doom, Zendarin," the elder dragon returned, "and we will not play with you. Do you not think that she has always awaited your betrayal for your own desires?"

"Of course, she does. That's what makes it more amusing."

The prisoners glanced at one another. Kalec expected his companion to press the blood elf, but Krasus appeared not at all interested in pursuing the only path to escape they had.

"What do you want of us?" Kalec finally asked.

Zendarin waited for Krasus to say something, too, but when the elder dragon remained mute, the blood elf focused on the blue. "There will come a time, when she must be faced. I am mere blood elf. A dragon, though, would be far more able to stave her off for the moment needed...."

"Needed for what?"

"You are interested, then?"

Kalec bared his teeth. "I would not be speaking with one of your kind if I was not, regardless of my current circumstances."

Zendarin's gaze shifted to Krasus. "And what of him?"

Again, the dragon mage remained silent, which infuriated Kalec. Did he think their options so unlimited that he could refuse to even play along with the blood elf?

"He does not speak for me, nor I him," the blue snapped. "I am interested. That is as much as you need from me, yes?"

"Two would be better than one. I give you some time to talk sense into your friend... but know that time is very short."

With that, Zendarin slipped out again. The mageslayer did not follow immediately, lingering by the entrance as if still eager to come to them. Only when the blood elf called to it did it finally vanish.

"They have made a minor evil into something far more treacherous," Krasus commented. "Thus is the way of Grim Batol. Evil not only flourishes here. It transforms...."

"What was the matter with you? Why didn't you play along with him?"

"The blood elf is too great a fool to even toy with, young one. His darkness is terrible, but hers dwarfs his a thousandfold. Even to barter with him risks us more than it is worth, trust me."

Kalec glared. “I will never understand you. Do as you wish, then. If Zendarin comes back again, you can rot in your chains alone, staring at that damned shard until she drags you out and sacrifices you or whatever it is she wants."

"She is making an abomination of a dragon, and we are to feed that creation with our lives...."

"All the more reason to take what little possibility of escape we have... unless you've come up with some wonderful plan of your own?"

The other's eyes narrowed. "'Wonderful,' I would not call it... nor even truly a 'plan'...but...but there may just be something I can do after all...."

The younger dragon waited for more explanation, but Krasus merely turned his attention to the entrance... and stared.

Me is here.... Korialstrasz is here....

Sinestra savored the moment again. All her machinations were coming to fruition just as she had dreamed they would. Indeed, she had gained far more than expected, the blue male surely a gift of the fates.

Deathwing's consort strode to the edge of the pit where her favored child rested. It was hungry, very hungry, but had learned finally to trust that it would be fed at the right time in the right manner.

"A pity he could not have come sooner," Sinestra murmured to herself, "or the blue, also. It would have been best if their essences could have been fed into the egg. Now, they will enhance, but not be an integral part of the make-up." She made a tsking sound. "A pity, yes..."

But there are other eggs, the voice in her head reminded her. The next ones will gain the benefit that this one did not! They will be even more mighty, a true legacy to the years of suffering....

"Yes," she agreed out loud. "The next generation will outshine even Dargonax..."

As she said the name, the creature in the pit stirred.

"Hush, hush," the mad dragon murmured to it. "Rest, dear Dargonax, rest.... Supper will soon be ready."

Silence settled over the pit again. Satisfied, Sinestra summoned a pair of skardyn.

"Descend below. You know what I need. You will find me in the cavern of the nether dragon."

They grunted understanding, then rushed off to fulfill her command.

Sinestra peered into the black pit one more time, then headed for the cavern. Already, she could imagine what would happen with the next eggs, the magnificent children that would hatch from them.

"At long last!" the black dragon breathed. "At long last..."

The thing in the pit stirred again. It—he—had discovered long ago that if he pretended to be complacent, he learned much. This time, though, perhaps he had learned more than he desired.

A future batch of eggs... new brothers and sisters. ..better brothers and sisters...

Dargonax hissed.

The dwarves and their two unlikely allies slipped toward Grim Batol. Vereesa it was who had insisted again that they head out, although Rom had convinced her to wait until the next night. In the daytime, the dwarves were too conspicuous a sight; the sentries would easily see them and there were also magical factors with which to deal.

Iridi offered some hope against the latter problem. While it was true that the blood elf might detect her, she suspected that he did not understand the staff's powers to the depths that she did.

"He has not had it long, surely only barely before he also captured the nether dragon," she explained to the others.

The concept of the nether dragon was one that shocked both Vereesa and the dwarves. Even Iridi had no idea of their origins, only that they had suddenly arisen on Outland and, for a time, menaced her kind. Yet, from what she had gleaned, they had not been so much evil as confused. Even they had not understood what they were or how they had come into being.

The nether dragon was still the focus of the priestess's quest. She had even tried to put the other staff out of her thoughts, concerned that some desire to avenge her friend would cause her not to think clearly when the time came. Yet, now Iridi understood that she had made a mistake, that she had only been trying to keep herself from understanding just how great was the peril facing her... and how insurmountable her quest might actually be.

But before the band had left on its foray, Vereesa had promised her three things. One was that the nether dragon would be found. Whether to be freed or necessarily destroyed was a question that could only be answered once that happened.

"It cannot be allowed to menace others, if that is its desire, draenei," the ranger had insisted. "Nor, as we all know, can it be used for whatever monstrous purposes they plan. We will free it if that proves a viable option, but we will not let this evil—as those two abominations you described surely must represent somehow— continue."

The second of the three promises concerned the blood elf. In this, Vereesa was adamant. "Zendarin is mine. If you can claim the staff and return it to wherever you need to, so be it, but my cousin is mine."

Third—and foremost—they had to find Krasus and Kalec. Not only for the sakes of the dragons themselves—assuming they still lived—but for the simple reason that the pair, especially the elder red, gave them their best hope of success...much less survival.

The odds were not good, but Rom had made the best of it. "Won't be any worse than tryin' to take Grim Batol during the war! Least there ain't an army of orcs to watch for, either...."

"No, but there are skardyn, dragonspawn, and drakonid," his second, Grenda, had remarked with her usual practicality.

That had deterred them no more than anything else had. All the dwarves serving under Rom had journeyed here expecting to lay down their lives if necessary.

Grim Batol was every bit as dire as Vereesa recalled it. With a shiver, she wished that Rhonin had come with her. However, in addition to his other duties, he was the only one of the two who could be with the children. They were being taken care of by Jalla, a stout midwife with six children of her own who was both like grandmother and second mother to the twins. However, she had no manner by which to protect them.

Ipray we will all see one another after this, she thought to her husband and sons. But, if not, she would do all that she could to see that the menace of her cousin never threatened her family again.

Too many of her family had been slain in the previous wars, and of her sister, Sylvanas, Vereesa had learned an even more monstrous fate. Those losses had been terrible enough, but then had come the rise of the blood elves. So many of her kind had turned from their traditions to that dark path, the withdrawals they had suffered after the Sunwell's destruction too much for them to bear. Vereesa recalled her own withdrawals and wondered if she would have joined them had not Rhonin been there to help her recuperate. And much later, when the feeling of loss had occasionally tried to return, the twins had also helped merely by being there for her to love.

She had known Zendarin well when they had both been younger. He had always been ambitious, but in those days that ambition had been an honest one. He had wanted to rise up among his people, no matter how hard it was for any individual to move beyond their caste. As one who had also to a point not fit into the regimented mold of high elven society, Vereesa could appreciate his desire.

But when he had turned to the way of the blood elf, all his ambition had focused on only one thing... to gather for himself more and more magic, both to satiate his insatiable appetite and to give him the might to take even more from others. Vereesa heardscattered word of his unseemly deeds, yet had not considered him her problem. As a blood elf, he was part of the Horde and the Alliance was always fighting the Horde. She had expected that sooner or later he would overstep himself and some wizard or paladin would put an end to him.

But then Zendarin had chosen her children as his next prize. Both Rhonin and she knew that there would be something special about them, the rare product of high elf and wizard. One could sense the potential just when standing near them. Even just after their birth, her husband had said something that she now realized was more prophetic than even he had thought.

"I hope they grow up," the red-haired spellcaster had muttered during one of his more sullen moods. "I hope they grow up...."

A simple comment, but complex in its fears.

As she pondered it again, Vereesa readied an arrow. Her sword, a parting gift from her husband, hung sheathed at her side.

"The eyes or just under the base of the jaw... at the top of the throat," Rom had told her. "You want to kill a dragonspawn fast or even hope to drop a drakonid, those're your best choices, my lady."

The ranger studied the area carefully. In some ways, her eyes were at least as good in the dark as those of the dwarves. However, the black-scaled hides of the drakonid and dragonspawn made them more murky targets. The skardyn were easier for her, but she considered them a waste of her arrows.

Yet, it was a skardyn she first sighted. The foul creature squatted upon a large rock, sniffing the air like a dog while it chewed on some shadowy piece of meat... hopefully nothing more than a hapless lizard.

Vereesa pulled the bowstring tight, then released it.

A shaft blossomed from the skardyn's chest. The scaly dwarf spit out its tidbit and fell face first off the rock. The sound of its body striking below was muted, as the ranger had expected.

In the dark, several dwarven forms shifted position, ever moving closer to the nearest of the cave entrances. Near Vereesa, the draenei waited patiently. The ranger had told Iridi to stay with her all times, following her lead wherever possible. Iridi had never been to Grim Batol before, whereas the high elf had some recollection... and more than a few unmentloned nightmares.

Another skardyn appeared on a ridge higher up. Vereesa swore under her breath. The skardyn were not what she wanted to slay, but, again, she had no choice. Worse, yet, the creature watched from a point that made it very difficult even for the skilled ranger to fire a perfect shot.

The draenei abruptly put a hand on her shoulder, then whispered, "Let me try."

Before Vereesa could stop her, the priestess had slipped ahead. Vereesa watched as Iridi made her way toward where the guard stood. Although the draenei tried to be cautious, the ranger was surprised that the skardyn did not see her and raise the alarm. Indeed, at one point, the creature gazed directly at her, but seemed unconcerned.

Some priesthood trick, the high elf decided. She had heard of priests from other orders who could make themselves either not be noticed or noticed as a threat by those they wished to reach.

Iridi climbed up next to the oddly-oblivious guard. She struck the skardyn a blow on the neck with the edge of her hand.

The sentinel collapsed without a sound.

From the rocks to the ranger's right, Rom gave the short signal to move farther in. The entrance beckoned, yet Vereesa was aware from the dwarf how many times they had gotten this far, only to have some catastrophe strike them.

However, slowly but surely they neared their goal. The dwarves took care of another skardyn and even a dragonspawn without mishap.

We are coming for you, Krasus, Vereesa thought to herself. We are coming for you. Then, her mood more grim, she added, and I am coming for you, Zendarin....

The ground shook.

A gasp escaped the ranger. She clutched at the nearest rock. The area around her rose up and down as if a massive earthquake were sweeping over the land.

Yet, Grim Batol itself was as still as death.

The dwarves struggled for balance. Although well used to such tremblings, this one was so violent that even they could not in many instances keep on their feet.

She saw no sign of Rom, but did spot Grenda. The female dwarf struggled toward her.

A fissure opened up between them. Fierce gases burst forth, so hot that both fighters had to retreat.

From out of the fissure—from out of other fissures ripping open around them—grotesque figures crawled out.

Figures made of burning rock.

A monstrous gold aura surrounded them. They moved like puppets toward wherever dwarves struggled. Their shapes were crudely humanoid and lacked any features, the latter of which made them more unnerving.

"Undead!" Grenda shouted.

"They are not Scourge," she returned. "They are some animated monstrosity!"

They were a menace such as no one there had expected to confront. Whoever was master or mistress of the mount now had terrible power indeed to raise up such horrific creatures.

One dwarf swung at the nearest of the fiery figures. The head of his ax melted, and it was all the fighter could do to keep from burning his hand as he released the weapon.

The rocky creature's molten arm moved with astounding swiftness, enveloping the head of the dwarf. The dwarf's scream and suffering were mercifully short, but the sight of his headless torso dropping sent chills through the defenders.

"We can't fight these! There are too many and our blades are useless!" Grenda looked around. "Where's Rom? He must give the signal to retreat!"

The ranger did not want to retreat. Strapping on her bow, she drew her sword and lunged at the nearest of the animated figures.

The blade easily cut through the soft, molten body. Rhonin had feared that she might encounter some magical threat and had made certain the weapon would be useful against most. The elemental minion collapsed into two separate pieces that still tried to move.

She dispatched a second shambling figure in the next breath. However, Grenda was proving all too correct in her calculation of their chances. The fiery figures were everywhere.

Although she had called for retreat, Grenda had by no means simply turned and fled. A loyal warrior, while she awaited Rom's word the female dwarf did her best with her own weapon. Unfortunately, even the slightest strike meant damage to any dwarven weapon.

And, worse, the fiery fiends kept massing. More important, Vereesa noticed that they were slowly but surely herding the dwarves together. The creatures did not seem inclined to slay the intruders unless the dwarves put up too much resistance.

They want to capture us! the high elf concluded with much dismay. But why?

In truth, she had no real desire to find out the answer to that. Aware that her weapon was perhaps the band's best hope, Vereesa leapt over the fissure separating her from Grenda.

"Have as many as possibly can keep with us gather behind me immediately!" she commanded. "I will try to cut our way through!"

"But Rom! I can't find Rom!"

"We cannot wait for him!" It hurt the ranger to speak so about a comrade with whom she shared such a history, but Vereesa believed that his choice would have been the same.

Grenda yelled her orders to the others. Using their axes and swords as best they could to keep their searing foes at bay, the dwarves stayed close behind Vereesa as she swung at one horrific foe after another. Limbs flew and bits of molten earth splashed against her breastplate—and once almost at her face—but she ignored all distractions as, under her effort, the path began to clear.

But then the ground shook anew and yet another fissure opened up before her. A few of the animated attackers fell into the fissure, but their vanishing meant nothing, for the way the ranger had chosen was now no longer open to them.

"We must go to the east!" she cried, but just as she turned that way, skardyn and dragonspawn joined in the attack on the party.

At their head was a particularly grotesque drakonid who could only be the one Rom had called Rask. Vereesa wanted to grab her bow and put an arrow through the creature's throat, but she had no chance.

"Lay down your weapons, you live," the drakonid rumbled. He gestured at the ranks of silent, smoldering rock creatures. "Keep fighting, there be your fate...."

Vereesa could no longer find the space to properly swing her sword. The dwarves, too, had trouble utilizing their weapons properly.

They were doomed, of that the high elf became certain. She looked to Grenda, whose expression matched her own. As Rask had said, there were only two choices. Where there was life, there was hope....

"Lay down your weapons," Grenda ordered the others. She did not get any argument from the other dwarves.

Vereesa tossed down her sword. She prayed that they had not just given themselves up for an easy and awful kill.

The moment the party surrendered, the rocky guardians collapsed. Their bodies liquefied, spilling back into the crevasses as the stunned fighters watched.

In their place moved the skardyn and the dragonspawn. Some of the former quickly snatched up the weapons of their cousins, at the same time making hissing sounds or gnashing their teeth as if in hunger.

One started to reach for Vereesa's sword, but Rask ordered it back.

"Mine," the drakonid declared. He hefted Rhonin's creation. "Good balance..." To the other guards, Rask ordered, "To the lower pits. The mistress commands...."

They had wanted to slip into the depths of Grim Batol and their wish would now be granted, albeit not in the least as they had hoped. Vereesa both cursed and marveled at the power of this mysterious mistress of whom the drakonid had spoken. The appearance of the fiery minions certainly gave credence to a blackdragon being involved. Was it then Onyxia, the daughter of Deathwing? Surely not, for Rhonin had once mentioned information gathered from other sources that all but verified that the female black was no more. Yet, what other dragon could command this ebony drakonid and his dragonspawn cohorts? Rask had definitely said "mistress," which ruled out either a surviving Deathwing or Nefarian.

Father, son, daughter...

Where was the mother in all this?

Suddenly the ranger wished that she had not aided in the decision to surrender. In her mind, Vereesa could imagine only that one of Deathwing's consorts lurked in Grim Batol and of his consorts only the name Sintharia came to mind.

She had convinced the dwarves to turn themselves over to the mercy of the mate of the mad Earth-Warder.

Vereesa surreptitiously reached for a dagger hidden under her breastplate. With only living foes with which to deal, she hoped that if she caused a distraction, some of the prisoners stood at least a modicum of a chance of escaping—

The point of her own sword came much too near her throat. The heat from the burning weapon left her sweating.

"The dagger or your head." Rask chuckled, "one or other drops..."

The ranger let the dagger fall. A skardyn scooped it up, then wisely handed it to the drakonid.

"Wise." Rask said, sheathing the weapon in a belt around his scaled waist.

The prisoners were ushered into the mouth of the cave.

But above watched one attacker that the drakonid had missed. Iridi could do nothing for Vereesa and the others, although she had nearly climbed down to try. In the end, however, the draenei had determined that she could better help her friends in the long run by not helping them now.

The priestess looked around. Farther up, another opening beckoned. It would require a precarious climb, but it was her best chance of entering the mount.

With the staff dismissed, Iridi crawled like a spider up the rock face. She had no illusions as to her chances; what confronted them was a powerful thing of evil, even more so than the blood elf, whose own dark deeds were even greater in number than she had imagined. Yet, it was now all up to her. That was something that she had sensed from the beginning of her journey, that there would come a point when she would be called upon to make the crucial decision or act, upon which all else would be decided. This had to be that moment.

Krasus, Kalec, Vereesa, and the dwarves were all prisoners. It made perfect sense to her that she should choose one or more to locate and immediately free. As the ranger herself had indicated, Krasus was likely the best choice of all those.

And yet, as Iridi reached the entrance, she knew without doubt that it was the nether dragon for whom she was about to begin her search...