Then, the blue growled. His eyes glowed and the ground around the terrible twins rose up, churning. At the same time, blue bolts of lightning mercilessly beat at the pair.
Again, the twin beasts grew immaterial. The blue started to lunge forward, but the twilight dragons took to the sky.
"We must not let them leave!" Korialstrasz shouted from behind his ally. The ancient red rose up after the pair, lighting the night sky with a vast plume of fire that did not, unfortunately, harm his targets but did at least distract their flight.
The blue was right on his tall. The sky around the younger dragon shimmered much the way their adversaries did when becoming ghosts.
But whatever it was that he hoped to accomplish did not appear to happen. Iridi sensed his frustration. What did and did not affect the abominations remained a question of test and failure.
Gasping, the draenei propped up the staff. She had in her enough for one more effort... so she hoped.
The prayer she muttered was the first that she had learned when joining her order. It was designed to draw from within a sense of complete calm. Only in that manner could Iridi hope to survive.
The large crystal flared.
The silver sliver of light stretched out in the blink of an eye, splitting just before reaching the two monsters. As she concentrated, the two new lights touched their targets.
For a single breath, the twilight dragons became silver. They illuminated all and were, in their own way, stunning.
The priestess toppled, barely able to retain consciousness. She could well imagine now how the red dragon had felt, for a part of her had been used up in this attempt.
The shimmering forms swelled. Wise enough to recognize that this was not as it should be, the red and blue hastily dropped toward the Wetlands.
The macabre dragons laughed madly. They continued to swell, now each nearly as massive as the single colossus that they had briefly formed.
They were still laughing as one, then both exploded in a violent release of energies that swept over the area.
As deadly forces rained down, a vast form dropped over Iridi, protecting her from their full fury. She heard Korialstrasz rumble, "Have no fear...."
The Wetlands shook violently... and then just as quickly stilled again.
Iridi lay sprawled under the red dragon's wing, barely able to breathe. She both heard and felt Korialstrasz's own labored breathing and knew that he had been through far more than she. It amazed her that he had actually been able to stand for so long against the two abominations.
From somewhere to her side, she heard a voice that was and was not familiar to her. "The danger's passed..."
"Yes," replied her protector. "I believe so, too."
As he spoke, the red dragon withdrew from Iridi. She tried to rise, but needed in the end the assistance of a strong pair of hands.
Those hands belonged not to the one she expected, but rather a handsome youth who appeared to be approximately her age. There were elven touches to his looks, but also something akin to the humans whom she had met. He was dressed like a young noble offon a hunt, with high leather boots, blue pants and matching shirt and vest.
Indeed, blue was clearly not only his favorite color, but a very part of him, for no human or elf of any type had such glittering azure eyes—narrowed in speculation al the moment—or shoulder-length hair of the same brilliant color.
"You're a draenei," he declared finally. "Met a couple of your kind, but no female before."
"You are...you are the blue dragon...." Her own statement sounded so obvious that she was ashamed to have even said it, but could think of nothing else. Her mind and body were still battered from her efforts, and if he did not continue to hold her, Iridi suspected that she would have fallen.
"I am the blue dragon," he returned. A smile ever so briefly touched his features, lighting them up, but then he looked to the side and some dark memory clearly reared its head. The smile transformed into a scowl.
A scowl that in part appeared aimed at the cowled figure joining them.
"Miraculous enough to have gained such aid in our hour of need," the dragon mage commented to his younger counterpart. "But more astounding is the familiar shape in which it comes." He bowed his head. "My greetings, Kalecgos."
"Krasus..." There was a hint of resentment in the blue-haired fighter's tone. "I thought that it was you, but couldn't believe it at first."
"The fates apparently demanded that our paths cross again."
"The fates? Blame it more on my lord, Malygos. It's he who sent me here... and likely sensed that you were also on your way, if I know him." He shrugged. "But it still seems that we were doomed to cross paths, yes."
Krasus took a step closer to his counterpart. "Kalecgos! You know that I wanted only the best for Anveena—"
"You may call me 'Kalec,'" the youth said to Iridi as he purposely turned his attention from the other male. I prefer it whenin this form..."
"Kalec...I am Iridi."
"Can you now stand on your own, Iridi?" When she nodded, Kalec cautiously released her. "Good."
Krasus sought to interject himself into the conversation again. "Kalecgos—Kalec—it is good to see you—"
"I don't find it so good," the other snapped. "But I couldn't stand by and let even you be preyed upon by—by whatever those were..." He looked past them, "...and I've no doubt as to where they came from."
"Yes, young one, they had to come from Grim Batol."
"Then, that's where I'm off to." Kalec spread his arms and a look came over his face that Iridi realized presaged a transformation.
But Krasus seized the fighter's arm, a dangerous thing if the depth of Kalec's sudden scowl was anything to judge by.
"It would not be wise to go alone," the dragon mage told him.
"It's not so safe to entrust oneself to you!" He leaned into Krasus's face. "You gave her peace and then you allowed it to be ripped away! You let her live a lie of a life, knowing all too well that it would end in tragedy!"
"But it hasn't, Kalec. You knew what she had to do... what she did. Anveena's destiny was always written—"
"Don't you speak her name again!" Kalec raised a hand and suddenly a glowing sword appeared in it. The blade looked sharp enough to cut the air itself and the grip had been molded to perfectly match his hold.
Kalec thrust the point toward Krasus, letting it hover just an inch or two from the latter's chest.
Unperturbed, Krasus glanced from the blade to its wlelder. "I know how much she meant to you and I mourn that loss... but Anveena is still with you always. You should feel that yourself, young one."
Iridi remained perfectly still as the tableau played out. She would have preferred that this argument not take place at all, especially so soon after their battle with the abominations, but clearly this confrontation had been a long time coming and nothingshe could say or do could stop it.
Kalec exhaled. Much of the anger dissipated, leaving in its wake resignation. "She said just that right before she sacrificed herself. She was sad and happy at the same time. Sad to leave the grove... and us... but happy to return that which she was to those who most needed her."
Recalling Iridi's presence, Krasus quietly explained, "Anveena was a young maiden of no guile, only care. She and Kalec met by accident after I worked hard to hide her from the eyes of the Lich King and his agents, especially one Dar'Khan."
The draenei recalled the blond human in the dragon mage's memories. It surely had to be her. "She gave her life so that others might live? A noble fate—"
This for some reason caused Kalec to laugh harshly. "You don't understand, draenei! Anveena never had a true life to give! Her entire existence was a conjurer's trick!" He again pointed the sword at Krasus, but without any intent to use it. "His trick! Anveena wasn't human; she wasn't even mortal! She was the very essence of the high elves' Sunwell, their fount of power! She was pure magic manipulated into playing at life so well that she thought she actually breathed, ac
tually had a heart...."
Iridi knew little of the Sunwell, though she had heard it mentioned by others. It was a source of tremendous magic that had been destroyed, that much the priestess understood. There had been a rumor, however, that It had been restored... and now It seemed that not only was that rumor true, but there had been far more to it than anyone who had spoken of it could have ever imagined.
"The will of the world shapes us all," Iridi murmured to Kalec in an attempt to soothe him. He had obviously cared much for the human incarnation. "And even through such adversity, we grow stronger."
The azure eyes softened once more. "You would've liked her, draenei...and she you." Iridi bowed.
"I understand why he’ scome here," Kalec went on, referring to Krasus, "but why you?"
The cowled mage also looked at her. "That is a question we were never fully able to discuss, were we? What is it you seek in Grim Batol, Iridi?"
She saw no point in holding back the truth, especially as she was more and more seeing a link with what had happened to them and the object of her quest. They might not believe her, but she would tell them all that she could.
"I am in search... I am in search of a nether dragon," the draenei responded.
It was likely rare that Krasus, at the very least, was stunned. Iridi was not surprised that Kalec stood open-mouthed, but even the mage revealed startlement, if only through the raising high of one brow.
"She hunts for a nether dragon... in Azeroth!" Kalec blurted. "But there aren't any nether dragons in Azeroth! Those that tried to enter were destroyed by my flight at the portal to Outland! And since then, nothing passes that we do not take note of even from our sanctum..."
The priestess shook her head. "One survived the ill-fated crossing. I sensed its presence, but came upon the scene a moment too late. A cloaked figure reminiscent of you, Krasus, found him first, a cloaked figure accompanied by monstrous servants. They carried with them what I have divined is called a chrysalun chamber”.
"A chrysalun chamber!" Krasus looked to Kalec, who nodded. They both clearly understood what the artifact was and, therefore, what it could do.
"The magic they used to shield themselves from the nether dragon they also used to obscure the chamber from those who might notice anything awry in the vicinity of the portal." Iridi saw in her mind the vague vision, the tragic vision.
"No blood elf could wield enough skill to hide from my kind!" Kalec insisted. He opened his hand and, as with Iridi's staff, the blade vanished. Yet, it was clear to the draenei that Kalec's weapon was merely a manifestation of his power, not a true tool, like hers. "None."
"Unless he had some other great source..." Krasus suggested, studying Iridi. He had some glimmer of the truth, she sensed, and the fact that he understood that much impressed her.
"There was a source." The draenei held out her hand, summoning the staff. As the large crystal flared to life, Iridi felt a brief pang of grief despite all the training through which she had gone to learn to keep her stronger emotions under check.
Kalec stretched out a hand toward the crystal, the blue dragon trying to understand its workings. "That's not...that's not of Azeroth... I know... I know its origins... now... from those creatures called the naaru..."
"From the naaru it came," she agreed. "I had one. A friend...a good friend had the other. They were special gifts that we brought with us to Azeroth, to use for the sake of good...."
"What happened to the other?" Krasus asked in a tone that indicated that he had his suspicions.
"Taken from the corpse of my friend," Iridi replied quietly. "After his slaughter..."
"And so that," the dragon mage murmured, "is the source of power that made Malygos's far-reaching senses pay no heed... and is also the reason to fear that the worst is yet to come." To Kalec, he asked, "This cloaked figure...this blood elf, to be sure, for there are few other than they who would think of this...wields the power of the naaru..." He frowned. "But it goes far worse than that. If I comprehend you correctly, young Iridi. You hunt a blood elf, wielding the stolen energies of naaru, who has also trapped and kidnapped a nether dragon...."
"Yes." The priestess bowed her head to Krasus's wisdom. He truly did see things as they must be.
"Then, there remains only the question that none of us has yet spoken but that I will to put it to the point." Krasus made sure both of his companions were listening carefully. "A blood elf with naaruenergies and a nether dragon as his...just what, then, do you think he intends to do with all that at his disposal? I believe that we have just met the answer... and it may only be the beginning of something far worse...."
EIGHT
Zzeraku shimmered brightly, but not because of any effort on his part. He was weak, terribly weak, and at times he thought that his tormentors would finally cause what he had been dreaming of doing for the past few days. A creature of energy, the nether dragon was near total dissolution...but the spells and magical bonds ever prevented him from being completely destroyed. His captors needed what he was composed of much too much. They needed his essence to work their experiments.
Most of all, they needed him almost constantly to feed the hungry results of that last spell.
Nether dragons knew little about fear, but Zzeraku had learned much since his capture. First, there had been that terrifying sense of claustrophobia when, without warning, he had been sucked into the monstrous box by which they had smuggled him to this faraway place. Then, there had been the shock of discovering that he could not escape the magical bonds.
Now came the greatest of his fears... that he would slowly be eaten alive by the thing that their foul magic had created.
Zzeraku had been used to sowing fear, not living it, and so it struck him harder. Yet, at the same time, that fear also fed his rage and his desire for revenge. Given even the slightest hope, he would destroy his captors and devour their magical essence.
Unfortunately, thus far there was no chance of that happening. He again tested the strength of his bonds and again found them unbreakable. The agony he suffered in fighting against them was minute compared with the knowledge that he would still be helplesscome the next feeding.
Unless...
Zzeraku was a creature of energy and the thing hungered for that energy.
An idea formed in the nether dragon's head. The logic of it made him smile as best as his bound jaws could.
Yes, soon they would come to feed their creation... and Zzeraku now could hardly wait.
There were dragonspawn about, which pleased Rom to no end. Hefting his ax, he found himself satisfied with how well he was doing with his left hand alone. Let even a drakonid or the foul blood elf come across him now and they would learn what the wrath of a Bronzebeard could be like.
He knew Grenda was watching him close. She was a capable second-in-command, but she was too concerned with his mood of late. Rom was aware that she thought his attitude becoming more and more fatalistic, whereas he only felt it realistic.
Even this foray tonight was not to her taste. Rom had brought them dangerously close to one of the caves leading into Grim Batol, determined to find something that would show that their mission was not a failure. This time, there would be no magical trickery.
The dwarves spread out carefully. Humans and other races thought their kind too hard-headed to learn from their mistakes, yet another myth. Rom had studied the patrol patterns of the dread lady's guards, and this time he believed he knew the variations that they might make. There would be no set-up for a trap, as had happened when he had thought he had captured the skardyn. These sentries would turn out to be exactly what they were, not a blood elf in disguise.
But Rom had another, more pressing reason for such a close approach, one about which even Grenda did not know. With one of the cave mouths so tauntingly nearby, Rom hoped to sneak inside, if only by himself. It was time to discover the full truth about the crieswithin and only through such daring could he hope to do that.
He also did not feel
that he should risk anyone but himself. The obsession was his and his alone.
The soft crunch of feet made the dwarves pause. In one thing they had an easy advantage over the dragonspawn and the drakonid; they were already low to the ground. It made it easy to drop out of sight, especially on such a dark eve. Their foes had good eyesight, but Rom was betting on Bronzebeard eyes seeing better in the darkness.
A bulking figure trundled into sight, a dragonspawn with shield and heavy sword. That it was black was no surprise, for it seemed the blood elf's companion had ties to the remnants of Deathwing's flight. Yet, though the dragonspawn wore also a breastplate, there were no markings signifying its loyalty to one particular dragon or another. The drakonid had been the same. No marking indicating Deathwing himself, nor either of his misbegotten offspring, Onyxia and Nefarian...nor any other known black dragon.
But that was a minor point to Rom. What sufficed was that these creatures were willing to serve the two spellcasters. That was enough, along with the terrible cries, to warrant great concern.
"If it can be captured alive," he whispered to Grenda. "So much the better. If it needs to be slain, that's good also. I don't want any disaster like the last time."
The female dwarf grunted her understanding. She signaled another dwarf. The band began to close around the lone dragonspawn.
Then, something caught the scaly fiend's attention. It let out a grunting call, which was immediately answered from just within the cave.
"Down!" Rom ordered under his breath. Grenda managed to alert the others just as another dragonspawn lumbered out.
Rom waited for more guards, but these two appeared to be the only ones. A grim smile played across his lips, one he kept hidden from Grenda. The cave looked more inviting than ever. Two dragonspawn would be tough to take on, but Rom had the utmost confidence in his seasoned fighters.
However, before he could give the signal, whatever had initially caught the first guard's attention now caused that dragonspawn to head away from the dwarves. Rom held his breath in frustration as the four-legged fiend moved from what would have been the perfect ambush spot. He had hoped that the second guard would join the first there.
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