Night of the Dragon

TWENTY

He was alive. Krasus was not surprised by that miracle, but neither was he entirely pleased. Kalec's attack had failed, but failed for a darker reason.

"Ah, the great Korialstrasz...defender of the lesser races, savior of Azeroth... the grandest fool ever born..." declared the voice of Deathwing's consort.

Krasus could barely move. It was painful just to lift his head enough to see her stride toward the re-crafted Demon Soul and touch it as a loving mother would a cherished offspring. The dragon mage doubted that Sinestra had ever treated Nefarian or Onyxia so, but then they had not existed solely for her ambition and madness. The Demon Soul had no mind of its own, no potential dream of independence....

"It shall—it shall never w-work!" he managed to croak. "In the end—you shall only have—have disappointment—and death..."

"Preach not to me, Korialstrasz," the black dragon mocked, now peering up in amusement at a stunned Vereesa. "Yes, my darling, you are also alive, albeit temporarily. You should thank me for that miracle. All the force this impetuous young fool sought to unleash was steered elsewhere through my good efforts...."

Krasus snorted. "It was—it was your vile whispering in—in the blue's mind in the first—first place that made him cast such a force of violence."

"Of course! He made such a wonderfully delectable choice! You can imagine how enjoyable it was to find out not only that he was alive, but that his thoughts were in such distress that I could easily manipulate them against you! Your continual interference in theaffairs of the world has left you with many like him, Korialstrasz...."

"And you are—are breeding your own destruction. S-Sinestra! You cannot—cannot control what you have wrought! Think upon that before it is too late—"

She gave a curt wave with her hand, and he went flying up against the celling. Krasus screamed as he hit, but not only because of the force.

The point of a long, wicked stalactite—a stalactite reinforced by the black dragon's power—thrust through his chest.

A stream of the red's life fluids drizzled onto the chamber floor. Krasus gasped, yet, despite what seemed a mortal wound, he remained conscious.

"All goes as I desire, my darling Korialstrasz, and always has! I have adjusted for every eventuality and although I will grant you some surprise on my part at your ability to escape the chrysalun chamber, your act only served to enable me to bring matters to a swifter and more satisfying conclusion!"

"You will—you will only bring yourself to—to a swifter doom, I tell you! Even now—"

"Even now, your other companions are trying in vain to either escape or, in the case of two, actually dare to free the nether dragon...." She smiled at the expressions of both the dragon mage and the ranger. "Ah! Some of this is not known to you? You, my dear high elf, should be especially interested, as I do believe that with the draenei who is known to both of you, there is a human wizard...a human with the red hair marking him as Korialstrasz's favored lackey!"

"Rhonin?" Vereesa gasped.

"Such a loving mate..." The veiled figure's expression momentarily hardened. "Such a loving mate..." The sense of triumph returned. "But they are both merely readying themselves to add to the reservoir of magical energies I have been collecting for my new children...."

A savage roar shook the chamber, almost sending Krasus failing to the floor. At the last moment, Sinestra reinforced his agonizing captivity.

"Listen—listen to that—Sinestra! Each time he cries out, your creation sounds larger, stronger...."

"But, of course! That is the point! Really, Korialstrasz, I think your mind is finally going."

The cowled figure managed to shake his head. "You will never understand until it is—" He groaned."—is far too late..."

She laughed. "Do you feel the weakness spreading? Do you feel the numbness embracing you? When I gathered up what fragments there were of the Demon Soul, I found within it a residual energy like none I had ever seen. More interesting, the pieces appeared to be trying to draw in more energy, as if seeking to rejuvenate my dear, unlamented mate's creation." Sinestra caressed the gleaming construct, "it was as if fate had granted me its favor. I already had Balacgos's Bane, which would work so hand-in-hand with what was left of the Soul that it was almost as if I had planned it myself!"

Krasus knew of Balacgos's Bane, a cube of cerulean created by one of Malygos's elder offspring. All blues were caretakers of magic, but Balacgos had gone one step further; he had designed the cube to deal with a situation that he thought endangered Azeroth... the unharnessed latent magical energy that was spread throughout the world, magical energy that no one controlled, but that could be used by any unscrupulous practitioner of the arts who came upon them.

The cube had been designed to seek and take into itself any such energies that it sensed. One only had to activate it with their own power. The cube was intended to be a reservoir, keeping that magic available for when the blue flight might need it.

But upon first using his grand creation, Balacgos had discovered a small error in his calculations. The cube had sensed nearby magic and absorbed it...but that magic had been the dragon's.

The other dragons had found him a dried husk, blues being so much a part of magic itself that it was as much their life as their blood or other life fluids.

This had been in the ancient times when Malygos had still been truly sane and Deathwing had yet been the trusted Earth-Warder, Neltharion. Krasus recalled with some irony that, in order to keepthe cube from doing harm to his people, Malygos had, on Neltharion's suggestion, passed it on to his trusted friend to bury deep within Azeroth.

It had been like giving an assassin a dagger and telling him not to use it.

Still, like what remained of the Demon Soul, Balacgos's Bane had obviously had its purpose altered. Now, the two artifacts gave Sinestra the ultimate matrix for absorbing the energies she needed to create a dragon such as had never flown any world's sky.

"It will not take much longer for both of you to be drained of what I need," Sinestra explained. "In the meantime, I shall see to the draenei and the human. Their powers with yours will make a delightful mix! A shame you will not be alive to see what I create with it, Korialstrasz! I think that even you would find it most interesting...."

Krasus tried to retort, but the combination of his wound and the weakness from the draining were too much. He could only stare at the black dragon...and the infernal artifact.

"Oh, yes," cooed Sinestra. "One other thing you should know. You would have never managed to destroy it, anyway. I have worked hard to make certain that no power born of Azeroth can shatter the Soul this time. Including any black dragon's scale, much less my late lord's...."

"You have—only made matters more terrible—then."

"You are persistent, are you not, Korialstrasz? I shall miss your blind determination, I shall...."

The dark lady laughed once more...and vanished.

"Krasus!" Vereesa called. "Is there nothing that you can do?"

He shook his head. It was all that he could do to keep conscious and soon that would even be beyond his ability. The dragon mage eyed Kalec. The blue's face was very pale and even the red's sharp eyes could barely detect movement of the chest.

"Then... I must hope that—that this will work!"

Krasus heard a scraping sound from the ranger's direction, but could not see what might be the cause. Then, there came a sharp crack—

"Unnh!" The clatter of rock filled his ears. A moment later, the dragon mage heard footsteps.

A figure moved below him. Krasus managed to focus enough to see Vereesa standing there.

She held up a small, odd blade. "I was holding this when the blue cast the spell sealing me to the wall. I was fortunate; he seemed only to want to keep me away, not harm me."

"Kalec—Kalec is no evil force."

The ranger studied his situation as she continued, "I managed to move the dagger about enough to cause a weakness in the rock he created, but it was only a moment ago that I sensed my struggling was finally too much for that weakness."

"Rhonin...Rhonin made that for you."

"Of course." Vereesa frowned. "I do not know how to free you, great one."

"My life...my life does not matter...drag...drag Kalec from this chamber. It is—is my hope that in the chamber of the eggs, he might recover. The eggs must be—must be protected from the draining or they would all be useless to h-her."

Rhonin's mate nodded. "Being dragon eggs, they have magic in them, too, You must be right. Then, when he recovers, Kalec can help you."

Krasus did not argue with her, although he knew very well that his wound was beyond Kalec's ability. Alexstrasza might have had the power to heal her consort, but she was far, far away and even should they have somehow carried the wounded red out of Grim Batol, he would have been long dead before they could get him to her.

But if I can save these two and they can warn others, then my death will have been worth it....

He watched as Vereesa took hold of Kalec and started tugging him in the direction of the other chamber. There was a good chance that, if Sinestra did not come to investigate, what he had said concerning the blue dragon would prove true.

They were soon out of his sight. Krasus continued to force himself to stay conscious. If not for the fact that he was of the redflight, the guardians of life, he might have already welcomed the relief of death. As it was, despite the inevitable, Krasus sought some miracle. Not for himself, but for all the others.

And, most of all, for Rhonln and Iridi, whom surely Deathwing's consort intended to capture next.

Barely had the roar faded away when another chilling sound filled the cavern.

This time, it was laughter.

Rhonin and Iridi turned in the direction from which it had come to see the tall, slim lady in black. The scars on the one side of her face were evident to them even through the veil.

"You're a dragon," Rhonin commented.

Iridi showed no surprise at this: after what had happened to Krasus and Kalec, that this female was more than she appeared made perfect sense.

"Very good, Rhonin Redhair," the dragon in mortal guise purred. "And do you know what dragon?"

The wizard shrugged, his demeanor quite calm considering that he stood amidst a chaotic battle of dwarves, skardyn, dragonspawn, drakonid, and raptors. "You have that admirable disposition and manner of dark dress that means you must belong to Deathwing's flight." He pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. "And since you're not the rabid dog or his two worst pups, I'd hazard by your grand posturing that you must be one of his prime bitches...."

The lady in black scowled, taken aback by the human's daring affront. Iridi gripped the naaru staff tight, awaiting any signal from Rhonin. The draenei instinctively kept herself between Zzeraku and the malevolent figure.

Flee! Zzeraku warned the priestess. Flee! She is monstrous! Forget me!

I won't! Iridi found Zzeraku's concern for her heartening, even under the circumstances.

The disfigured dragon recalled herself. Once more acting as if empress of all she surveyed, she replied, "I am Sinestra, first and greatest of the Earth-Warder's consorts...."

"That would explain your lovely complexion. Mating with Deathwing must have literally set your heart on fire."

"Is it wise to speak to her so?" the draenei whispered.

"He speaks so because he is a fool confident in his master, are you not, Rhonin? You think Korialstrasz—pardon me—Krasus— will save you. But your master is dead, human, his life essence a contribution to the birthing of a new era!"

The priestess caught just a hint of anger at the corner of the wizard's mouth, but Rhonin quickly smothered it. "Oh, yes! The great family plot! Let's rebuild or recreate or create anew a wondrous flight in our image—or something close enough to it— that will—dare I say it?—take over the world!”

"You remind me of my Nefarian...arrogant, blind, and doomed."

Sinestra gestured.

A shockwave rushed over all there, including the black dragon's own minions. Not one creature was left standing, so powerful was the invisible wave.

Not one creature...save Rhonin. His face was pale, yes, and his legs wobbled, but he still stood.

"If you think...me the same impetuous upstart...who came here to deal with your mate," he rasped. "You're...you're only half-right."

His gaze shifted to the cerulean cube. It suddenly glowed.

But Sinestra only chuckled. "Very good! You know Balacgos's Bane...your master taught you well!"

Sweat dripped down Rhonin's forehead. Through gritted teeth, he answered, "He's not... my master... he's my... friend."

The cube flared bright...and then melted in on itself, leaving a blue puddle from which sinister vapors of a like color arose.

Sinestra's eyes narrowed to slits. This time, Rhonin could not keep from being thrown to the ground.

"A powerful, valiant attempt...but only an attempt." She pointed at the melted Bane... and it formed again. "The secret of it is mine, as are so many other secrets."

The raptor leader had by this time managed to reach its feet. With a hiss, it leapt with claws bared and maw wide open at Sinestra.

With a contemptuous glance, the black lady pointed at the raptor.

The ground rose up beneath the leaping reptile, catching it. Molten earth engulfed the raptor leader. The reptile's scaled hide blistered horribly, then burned away, quickly followed by the muscles and sinew beneath. The raptor had no time to shriek. By the time the creature collapsed on the chamber floor, it did so as a loose pile of still-smoldering, scorched bones.

"The right temperament," Sinestra clinically commented. "But lacking in so much else." She returned her attention to Rhonin and Iridi.

But the priestess was no longer there. For the first time, Sinestra showed some puzzlement. Her ire immediately focused on Rhonin, who was struggling to rise. "Where is the draenei? Where is she?" The wizard managed a grin. "I don't know...."

Zendarin fell back, gasping. He was finished at last, finished with the final step toward his never having to hunger again. It had cost him much of the staff's power, but for that he would have that which would gain him more than he could desire in a hundred lifetimes.

He leaned over the pit. "You understand me, don't you?" "Yes..." came the rumbling voice. The blood elf smiled. "It is time." "Yes..." A dark form began to rise toward Zendarin. "It is time..."

"You will obey my will in all things," the blood elf went on. "You will—"

A monstrous sound arose from the pit. It was not a simple roar, as had erupted more than once during Zendarin's efforts, but ratherlaughter... laughter that reminded him too much of the dark lady's.

"I do not obey you...." Dargonax replied with mockery also akin to hers. "You are little more than the dirt beneath my feet...."

The blood elf could not believe his ears. Enraged, he shouted, "You've no choice but to obey me! I have made absolute certainty of that—"

The murky shape stretched above the pit, expanding, growing, until it filled all of Zendarin's view. The head of a huge, amethyst dragon coalesced.

"You have made certain of nothing, but that you are a fool...." Dargonax declared.

Zendarin threw his will into the stolen staff, hoping it had enough power left.

Jaws open, Dargonax lunged.

The blood elf vanished.

The gargantuan dragon immediately halted his lunge. He did not look angered or disappointed, but instead, amused.

Dargonax suddenly looked up at the ceiling. His long, pointed ears twitched as if he listened.

"Yes...I come, my mother...I come..."

And once more, the behemoth laughed.

His arm was broken—he thanked the small favor that it was the one minus a hand—and he had somehow gotten far more lost than any dwarf ever should have underground in any cavern. Rom could swear that the tunnels shifted of their own whim and always to keep him from the ones leading back up. He wanted to go back up because, in one passage, he had heard the cries of some of his people. They were dying, Rom believed, and all he could do was keep walking in circles.

But he had to keep trying.

He stumbled into another passage that looked exactly like the passage before and the one before that and so on and so on. The veteran fighter swore under his breath, even his mounting frustration not enough to make him alert any possible foes to his nearby presence.

Was that a mistake, though? Perhaps if he shouted his head off, he would finally get some action.

Rom snorted. He would also end up perishing without doing his comrades any bit of good.

When the other dwarves had been attacked, Rom had not abandoned them, as they likely thought. Rather, he had been twice struck hard, the first enough to shatter the bone in his arm and the second knocking off his helmet and battering his head. He had then stumbled, dazed, into one of the crevices that had opened up. There, Rom had lain as one of the dead for hours.

By sheer luck, the other end of that crevice had proven to have an opening into the mount. Upon awakening, he had taken no joy in discovering that his long-desired dream to infiltrate Grim Batol had come to pass. In his eyes, he had failed the others. Rom could only pray that Grenda—capable and probably more level-headed than he —would keep the rest alive, with or without him. As for Rom, he had retrieved his helmet—which had fallen in with him—and simply marched off to see where fate would lead him.

But now he cursed fate for keeping him from his comrades.

A grunting sound made him still. Rom prayed that the echoes of the tunnels were not turning him around again. If they were not, then the source of that grunt was only a few short yards away.

He picked up his pace... and immediately back-pedaled as the voices of several skardyn heading his way warned him that he was about to run Into far more than that for which he had bargained. Rom rushed back to the nearest side passage and threw himself in just as he heard the foul creatures enter the one he had abandoned.

The skardyn came rushing past, the scaly fiends crawling along the floor, the walls, the celling. Rom pressed himself against the rock, certain that he should have headed deeper into his own tunnel but aware that any movement now would only attract their attention.

A skardyn paused near the opening, smelling the air. It leaned in, seeking anything in the darkness—

A black fist seized the suddenly-squealing skardyn and threw it in the direction the rest were heading. The drakonid cracked his whip as he drove the rest on.

The dwarf recognized Rask.

"Move..." the black beast hissed. "The lady commands...."

Rask and the skardyn moved on. Rom hesitated just long enough to ensure that they would not be able to see him, then followed after.

At last, he thought, he was getting somewhere. But exactly where, he would have to wait to find out.

And, by then, Rom suspected it would be too late to turn back.