Night of the Dragon

NINETEEN

Grenda did not notice Vereesa's disappearance until well into the trek to freedom. When she did, the dwarf debated calling for a halt, then decided against it. The ranger had made her own choice; Grenda had to concern herself with her own people's well-being.

This did not mean that she only intended to lead them out of Grim Batol. After all, the Bronzebeards had come to the mount on a mission. Grenda sought an exit, yes, but she was also on a lookout for anything relating to the goings on in the dire place.

And, at last she found just that. The chamber was huge and in it was a sight both fearsome and striking.

The great beast bound by magical strands could only be the cause of the great roars of anguish that the Bronzebeards had heard on and off over the recent days. It was like no dragon that she had seen and appeared more apparition than substance.

"What're they doin' with that thing?" muttered one dwarf near her.

"Something foul," remarked another.

Grenda shushed them both. As concerned as she was about the imprisoned beast and the purpose for that situation, the female dwarf also needed to study the chamber's layout.

The first things she noticed were the five skardyn taking care of various tasks in the vicinity of the dragon. They seemed greatly engrossed in their efforts, almost as if their lives depended upon it. After the dragon and them, the next point of interest to her was a long ridge running along the side of the cavern, one that she saw ledto another passage that, to her best estimation, had to lead to some exit.

Grenda came to a decision. First and foremost, she needed to get the band outside. They had some weapons, true, but mostly pikes and whips, not their favored axes or short swords. They were also worn and beaten. Better to escape, then send word to the king of what they had discovered. They had gathered enough information that those with sharper minds would likely be able to put two and two together and come up with the complete picture.

"We go for that passage," she ordered the others. There was no disagreement; Grenda was their leader now and her commands would be followed as if she were Rom.

Rom. She wondered what had happened to him, where his body lay. They would probably have to pass near where the others had perished; perhaps among them she might discover his corpse.

If there's any way to bring you back for burial. I'll do it, she swore to his shade. Although Grenda could not even admit it to herself, she had fallen in love with the veteran fighter. It had started as admiration for his deeds and reputation, turned to respect as she had followed him on this mission, and became much more the longer she had been around him and learned of the dwarf behind the legend.

Grenda gritted her teeth. With only five skardyn about and none of them near the ridge, it was time for action, not regrets. She waved two of the others up to her.

"On my mark, you move as quickly as you can to the other side. Keep low, keep running."

They nodded, then braced themselves for her signal. Grenda glanced from one skardyn to another, watching where their attention lay.

"Go now!"

The two warriors scurried forth. Grenda watched with anxiousness as the pair wended their way along the ridge. The two made it a quarter of the way, then half, then two-thirds... and, at last, to the other side.

By that time, she already had two more ready. As soon as the first two were nearly across, the dwarven commander sent them.

In sets of two, her band crossed, but much too slowly for Grenda. Each second, she waited for one of the skardyn to look up, but they never did. Where all the others were, Grenda did not know. She wondered whether they were hunting the high elf or the draenei, who no one had seen in almost as long a time as they had Rom.

As she thought of the others, Grenda sent two more of her people on. However, they had barely gotten a third of the way when the escapees were finally noticed...but not by those below.

The skardyn who sounded the alarm had crawled out of one of the openings well above, one which no Bronzebeard would have been able to use. The scaly creature climbed along the high cavern wall like a spider. It had quickly seen the two fighters racing along and had opened its mouth to let out a guttural shriek that sounded as if from the grave.

The other skardyn immediately turned to stop the escapees. Worse, others began pouring out of holes everywhere, no longer reminding Grenda of spiders but a legion of poisonous ants.

"Everyone across! Now!"

The rest raced forward, Grenda taking rear guard. She wielded one of the pikes, which now felt highly ungainly as she sought to reach the other passage. The dwarf took some solace in the fact that most of the skardyn would not be able to reach the ridge before the party left the cavern. There was also the benefit that neither the whips nor the pikes would be of any use until that moment—

A small object whistled past her head. At the same time, one of those just before Grenda let out a cry and toppled off the ridge to the floor far below. Grenda could see that he was already dead long before his body hit.

She glanced at the wall next to her, where the object had struck and stuck. It was a tiny stone ball with spikes at least two inches in length. Grenda knew the material from which it had been carved and understood immediately how deadly it was even for a dwarven skull.

Another of her people let out a howl and fell. This time, though, the body lay sprawled on the ridge, blocking the path.

There was no time for niceties. "Shove her off!" Grenda shouted. "Do It!"

The dwarf next to the body knelt to do just that—and another spiked ball caught him in the throat. He fell into the corpse and both slipped from the ridge.

The skardyn were using a device that looked almost like a tiny crossbow. Grenda recognized the weapon from historical records. The dwyar'hun—the name literally meant "star bow" in the older dialect, the spiked ball being the "star"—had been used by Bronzebeards long ago, too, but had eventually been discarded. The skardyn still apparently favored this weapon, though.

The one disadvantage to the dwyar'hun was that, while the skardyn could apparently cock it using one hand and their teeth—a necessity when one was clinging to a cavern wall—only one ball could be loaded at a time and that slowly, as it required manipulation by the same hand. Indeed, the salvo that had slain three of her number was all but over and the dwarves now had at least some breathing space before the next possible shot.

But that momentary respite was quickly shattered as those at the other passage began piling together instead of moving on. The reason for that was soon evident; another group of skardyn had come from elsewhere to block the path. More adept with their particular weapons, they were forcing the escaped prisoners back to the cavern... and certain doom.

However, the Bronzebeards would not go down easily. They used the pikes and whips as best they could and managed some well-struck blows themselves. Grenda's remaining brother used his pike to shove one climbing skardyn down atop another, sending both to the rock floor far below. Another dwarf, this one armed with a whip, caught a skardyn above as it crawled from a nearby hole. The lash circled one arm enough so that when the dwarf pulled, his target lost hold.

Unfortunately, the Bronzebeards still could not break through. Grenda looked back, wondering if the rest should retreat.

Skardyn burst out of the other passage. The dwarves were trapped between them on a narrow ridge where, one way or anotherthey would be picked off until they either surrendered or perished.

And then, to the utter surprise of everyone—but especially the skardyn—a new menace materialized near the captured dragon, a menace of the likes Grenda could only imagine out of her nightmares.

A raptor... raptors...

Grenda counted two, then three, then four or more. She could swear that they literally popped into existence, for what else would explain their sudden, impossible presence in here of all places.

The raptors faced away from the dragon, striking at the nearest skardyn with wild abandon. Caught off-guard, the nearest skardyn perished in a quick ripping of flesh.

And as the reptiles turned the battle to utter chaos, a more familiar figure appeared near the bound leviathan: Iridi, the draenei, but not alone. With her was a human who bore the look of a wizard, a human with thick, red hair.

Grenda knew of only one wizard with red hair and although there might be more, she had to assume that there was only one daring—perhaps foolhardy—enough to leap into Grim Batol. Rom had told her the stories of the human, and the ranger had mentioned him, too, albeit in a much more intimate manner.

Rhonin Dragonhead had come to their rescue.

But that was not quite the case, Grenda thought the next second. First, he could not have known that they would be here at this moment. In Grim Batol, yes, but not here. Indeed, both he and the priestess looked far more concerned with the unsettling dragon than anyone else. Iridi was working feverishly at one of the crystals that marked each end of the strands holding the massive prisoner in place. The female dwarf understood that they were trying to release the behemoth.

She thought them both insane, but had to assume that they knew something that she did not. What mattered more to her, though, was the sudden turn of events. With the skardyn now forced to take on not one but two zealous foes—and a wizard besides—she had hopes for her people's survival.

Then, from one of the lower passages, half a dozen dragonspawn led by a drakonid charged toward Iridi and Rhonin. A raptor materialized next to one of the dragonspawn and immediately attacked. Grenda noticed that Rhonin had gestured at the same time. He looked determined, but weary, and she knew that he had already spent himself much to create this fantastic scenario.

Two more of the raptors turned to attack the newcomers. A dragonspawn with an ax cut down the first, but then the second closed with the four-legged giant.

A heavy figure suddenly dropped down on the female dwarf. Captivated by the events below, Grenda had forgotten to watch her own back. The skardyn pressed down on her, trying to push the dwarven commander off the ledge.

Grenda twisted, managing to turn on her back. The monstrous countenance of the degenerated Dark Iron loomed inches from her own face. The sharp teeth tried to snap at her nose.

"You—are—one filthy—beast!" she snapped. Her left arm collapsed, as if weak. The skardyn—it was Impossible to tell whether the scaly thing was male or female—hissed in anticipation, a hiss that ended in a choking sound as the skilled Bronzebeard warrior slipped her left hand under its guard, formed a strong edge with the fingers, and jammed them into his squat, short throat.

The skardyn pulled back as it tried to breathe. Grenda used her body to shove the gasping fiend off both her and the ridge.

She rose to find her comrades holding their own. Below, the raptors and Rhonin kept the other guards at bay, but Iridi appeared to be having difficulty with what she was attempting. At the very least, it seemed to Grenda that the draenei was no further along than she had been moments before.

Suddenly, thunder shook the cavern, thunder so powerful that it sent skardyn plummeting from the walls and dwarves from the ledge. Grenda had never heard such thunder and was amazed that it could be felt so deep within Grim Batol.

But then the dwarf realized why she had never heard such thunder... because it was not thunder at all.

It was a roar.

The time has come, Zendarin Windrunner had decided but minutes before. This is no longer worth my efforts....

He had always known his partner in this affair was mad, but apparently madness was commonplace when it came to anything revolving around this accursed lump of dirt called Grim Batol. He himself must have been mad to have ever accepted her offer to reveal to him new sources of magical energy in exchange for his assistance with her spells. Their creation would have given him access to more magic than a thousand blood elves could gather in their not inconsiderable lifetimes...magic and dominance.

But now was the moment to begin what he had intended all along. The thing in the pit had grown rapidly; it was surely near its full potential.

All Zendarin had to do was give it that final push... and at the same time seal his own mastery over it.

He stepped to the pit. Although he gazed hard, their creation was still difficult to make out. The creature radiated a unique, fascinating energy that the blood elf hungered badly for, but that was a feast for a better time. Now...now he had to be the one to do the giving.

Through the cerulean cube in the other chamber, the nether dragon was ever bound to the thing here. However, the link had to be purposely opened, generally by Zendarin and the dark lady together. Zendarin had always indicated that the staff he had stolen could do no more than it had in that regard.

Naturally, he had lied.

The staff was fascinating. He had tricked the draenei into revealing the secrets of its use while in another guise. He had discovered how to make the staff work for him and him alone so that no one could think to take it from him in turn. If she had tried,the staff would have returned to its creators, the beings called the naaru. That was what should have happened when he had slain the draenei. If not for the fact that he had learned the secret of transfer, a secret even she could not peel from his mind.

That was perhaps the greatest reason why she had never actually followed through with her threats against him. Despite all her hubris, Zendarin knew that he had still been an essential element of the spellwork.

But where she desired domination over all, he would be satisfied with domination over some and the satiation of his eternal hunger. Zendarin leaned over the edge more and pointed the crystal at where he best estimated the bulk of the creature—Dargonax, she had so grandiosely called it—and concentrated.

The staff's astounding energy flowed into the pit. As it struck, it outlined for the first time Dargonax's full glory.

Zendarin gasped and almost lost his focus. It was far more huge and powerful than he had thought! Surely even she did not comprehend the full scope of what they had wrought.

And that only made the blood elf grin more eagerly. As he fed the staff's power into the beast, he also used it to awaken the cube, awaken it and demand that it take from the imprisoned dragon all that it could and feed that also into Dargonax.

As both magical streams poured into the essence of the creature, it suddenly let loose with a tremendous roar that shook Grim Batol. However, caught up in his lust for the greater magic with which he believed his betrayal would reward him, the blood elf only laughed. He was master of the situation now.

He was master of everything....

But as Zendarin continued with his traitorous act, he did not notice a shadow that separated from others in the chamber.

Sinestra watched the blood elf commit to his betrayal. She smiled in satisfaction as he worked to take all that she had set intoplace as his own. When Sinestra was certain that there would be no going back for Zendarin, she sank into the shadows again and vanished.

All was going just as Deathwing's consort had planned, all save for the question of Korialstrasz.

But that was a problem easily remedied....

There was another who heard the roar and feared what it meant, especially as the voice in his head was no longer there. Kalec sought hard for Dargonax's presence, but not because he desired the creature to stay with him. Rather, now that it appeared that he was free, the blue had his own interests with which to deal. They did not directly deal with the missing Korlalstrasz, but if Kalec ran across the red, he would by no means avoid him.

Kalec still had reservations concerning the other dragon. He did not trust many of Korialstrasz's choices, although he did have to admit that the red was more than willing to put his own life on the line for those choices. That was something that he had not so much believed until this point. Kalec had always thought Korialstrasz more of a manipulator, in some ways as callous as even Deathwing.

No...he’s no Deathwing, the blue thought with some shame. But neither is he me.... Kalec would have never risked his friends or loved ones. Never.

He followed a trail that he did not understand. It was not the one he had begun under Dargonax's guidance. Rather, the blue felt as if someone had called to him, someone who suddenly had ceased doing so. Yet, Kalec did not feel that he could ignore it.

Lower and lower he descended. He was near, very near, to something.

What he thought a movement in the shadowed recesses of the passage caught his gaze. The blue cautiously turned toward it.

A blue glow sphere burst from his empty hand. In its light, the younger dragon saw nothing but rock wall.

Cursing his own anxiety, Kalec continued on. He hoped that soon he would find whatever it was he was meant to find.

Then, a golden glow radiated from some point far ahead. Kalec gripped the magic blade tight. As he moved closer, he saw that there was some chamber there.

The golden glow brought back memories he had tried to keep down. Anveena's face appeared before him, both beautiful and innocent. She had touched him as no other had or ever could... and now she was gone.

His earlier ire at the red dragon burned anew. It was Korialstrasz —in the guise of the wizard Borel—who had caused Anveena such grief. It was the red's fault that Kalec had lost her forever. It was—

He stepped into the chamber... and saw Korlalstrasz as the mage Krasus being guided by a high elf toward a strange broken crystal.

Rage overwhelming him. Kalec let out a roar and charged the red.

Both Korlalstrasz and the high elf looked his way. The high elf —a ranger—released the dragon mage and moved to block Kalec from him.

The blue had no quarrel with her. She was clearly another of Korialstrasz's dupes, likely thinking his guise as Krasus made him a trusted friend, not an insidious, uncaring plotter. Kalec gestured and, despite some sudden, unsettling weakness that he blamed on his counterpart, his spell sent the high elf flying to one of the walls, where the rock sealed around her wrists and ankles. There she would keep until he had dealt with his foe.

"Kalec!" Korlalstrasz started. "You live! I thought—" The blue's rage suddenly registered with him. "Kalec, listen to me! There is something wrong with you—"

But Kalec was aware of the danger of letting the cunning red's words infiltrate his mind. Gritting his teeth, he swung at the cowled figure.

However, his blade was met by a fiery orange-red sword that sprouted from his foe's hand just as Kalec's had. Kalec had taught Krasus the spell during a quiet moment on the journey and the irony of that was not now lost on the red. The two shared one stinging blow after another, most of the offensive ones on the blue's side.Yet, not for a minute did Kalec think Korialstrasz's hesitation against attacking in turn anything more than a ploy. He had to strike down the older red before the latter could put whatever trick he had into motion.

"Kalec! You are not thinking for yourself! Another is doing that for you! Gaze upon the foul artifact near us and understand the reason!"

Despite himself, the blue dragon did glance for just a single breath at that which Korialstrasz had mentioned. For the first time, he saw the oddly-cracked, glowing sphere. Shards of it were missing here and there, yet, some force held it together.

Moreover, that same force seemed to also be the source of a strange pulsation. As Kalec's and Korialstrasz's magic-wrought swords clashed again—sending off showers of energy—the pulsations magnified.

But although he saw that there was likely a link between the actions, Kalec assumed that they could only be from one source... the cowled figure before him.

"A master of trickery as usual!" he growled. "But not a master of magic..."

Kalec's blade, about to meet the other yet again, suddenly curled around as if a tentacle. It wrapped around Korialstrasz's arm and burned bright.

With a cry, the red dragon released his own weapon, which faded to nothing.

The younger dragon tugged hard, pulling Korialstrasz toward him. In his other hand, a second weapon formed.

But the rock beneath Kalec's feet chose that moment to sprout life in the form of great vines that burst through cracks to tangle his feet. He managed to slice some, but in the end lost his balance.

Both opponents tumbled to the floor. Korialstrasz grabbed the younger dragon's arm. "Hear me! We are being manipulated! Sinestra has drawn us together into the very place she intended we end up! Do you not feel yourself getting weaker yet? Do you not recall the tales of my people's sufferings when they chose to stand guard over Grim Batol? The very reason for that hovers near us, areborn and redesigned monstrosity that surely still earns the title Demon Soul!"

A part of Kalec registered what the other dragon said, but it was not a great enough part to overcome the intense fury and mistrust he felt for Korialstrasz. "Spare me your lies! This is just as likely your devious trap as it is that witch's!"

With each passing moment, Kalec's strength waned more, but his unchecked anger kept him fighting. He would not give in to Korialstrasz! He would not!

The blue dragon focused all his magic on one spell. He did not seek to conjure any intricate attack, but merely wanted to make certain that when it hit Korialstrasz, there would be no doubt as to the outcome.

The cowled figure's pale visage distorted in clear recognition of what his younger foe intended. Korialstrasz's dismay further fueled Kalec's pleasure. In the blue's mind, Anveena's face smiled at his impending triumph.

Kalec smiled back at her, all the while ignoring Korialstrasz's entreaties.

"For you, Anveena..." he whispered.

The blue dragon unleashed everything.

Grim Batol shook again. Dwarves, skardyn, drakonid... all were tossed about as if tiny toys.

The pain!Zzeraku suddenly roared in the draenei's head. The pain! It tears me apart!

"What happens?" Iridi shouted out loud to the dragon.

"Keep at it!" called Rhonin, thinking she was speaking with him. "Keep at it—"

His voice failed him as the bound nether dragon suddenly shimmered. Zzeraku's body all but faded away for a moment. A terrible moan escaped the suffering leviathan.

The pain! I am being eaten!

Have courage! the priestess told Zzeraku. Have courage!

Her words, her strength, cut through his suffering. Zzeraku stared at her. Why do you do this for me? The draenei have love for my kind, after all that has happened!

Iridi was steadfast. I do it because you don't deserve this....

I—do not?

Then, elsewhere, yet another horrific roar sent further chills down the spines of all. Even the raptors cowered at its force. "I have this terrible feeling that we're too late," Rhonin said.