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...."
&nbs
p; 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...
THIRTEEN
“Do you sense that?" Kalec asked Krasus. "Something is going on just beyond the mount...."
The dragon mage did not answer, his attention, as earlier, on the entrance to their prison.
This latest silence only infuriated the young blue more. He had tried speaking with the other dragon half a dozen times, but Krasus never so much as nodded. He sat like a statue, and while Kalec understood that his companion had something in mind, he had given indication more than once that it would have been good if the other had included him in the details.
Krasus knew that Kalec still leaned toward the blood elf's offer, although only long enough to regain the upper hand. There was merit in that, but not enough considering that it was Sinestra who was the true darkness of Grim Batol.
And so, Krasus did not argue with Kalec, but chose to work on what was possibly an even more remote hope.
"We're no better...." the blue remarked bitterly.
Despite his current task, Krasus could not help but be curious. "What do you mean by that?"
"My lord Malygos, now that he's whole again, has had nothing good to say of the mortal races and their abuses of magic. He proclaims that only dragons are worthy and capable of wielding magic properly." Kalec shook his head. "Right now, to me it seems like dragons wield it worse than anyone else...."
Krasus was about to reply, when he sensed a presence moving down the corridor in their direction. It did not radiate the magic that permeated Zendarin, the mageslayer, or, most important of all, her. Perhaps it was finally what he hoped it would be.
A skardyn strode into sight.
Rather than be disappointed, Krasus's hopes rose. He made a grunting sound identical to some of the speech that he had heard them use earlier.
The scaly dwarf looked his direction.
Krasus caught the creature's gaze... and held it. He did not do it by any true magical means, but by sheer will.
From Kalec there came a brief, muted sound. The blue now had some inkling of what he planned.
The skardyn stood motionless for a few seconds, simply staring back. Then, slowly, it entered.
Yet, it was not toward Krasus it went, but rather the nearest wall. Eyes ever tied to the dragon mage's own, the skardyn began climbing.
Krasus guided it with his gaze. Over the space of several millennia, he had become very adept at mesmerism. It was very rare for him to use this skill, for he despised any who willingly enslaved another even for a short time, but there were times of necessity, such as now.
Despite its squat form, the skardyn was an agile climber, not at all surprising considering it lived in the caverns within and below Grim Batol. Krasus had it continue its ascent until it was now near the ceiling.
At that point, he turned his gaze to the shard floating in the air. The skardyn leapt.
The heavy dwarven body enveloped the shard. As it touched the magical fragment, the skardyn's form flared golden. Despite clearly being in immense pain, the creature did not release its hold.
Skardyn and shard finally dropped to the floor.
"Is it still alive?" Kalec asked.
"Its death was unavoidable." the dragon mage replied somewhat sadly. As one who served and defended life, he regretted when circumstance demanded such cold manipulation of another creature on his part, even a creature such as this. Shaking off his regret, he asked in turn, "Can you feel the difference around us now?"
At first, Kalec did not look as if he understood. Then, the blue suddenly frowned.
"The shard... Its influence is lessened. Just a little, but it is less."
"It was a hunch I played. The very rune that makes it immune to much magic is also what enables it to act as a buffer, so to speak, of the shard's powers."
Kalec struggled with his bonds. Krasus could detect the blue using his magic, but to no
avail.
"You will not be able to do anything," the red explained.
Kalec frowned. "Then what is the point, old one? Why did you go through so much trouble if we still can't escape this chamber?"
"But we can... if only we work together."
The other dragon did not look confident. "There is still some other force besides that shard keeping us so weak... and something else keeping you even more so, Korialstrasz."
"Do not concern yourself with that last. Sinestra planned long for my particular coming, knowing—as you might put it—that I must interfere. I was assailed by storm and sea monster and magic from various dark elements, including naga whom I suspect had the choice of serving her will or suffering terribly. All of it, including a wound that does not completely heal, were to make me weak enough to overcome once I came here...and I willingly let that happen." Krasus straightened. "But I am not so weak as any of you think... and that is why, with both of us together, we should at least be able to free ourselves of these bonds."
"But what else wearies us?" Kalec persisted as he readied himself.
"I have my suspicions, but to speak them would be to only add more uncertainty to our situation. Should we escape this chamber, we can deal with that and all else as needs be."
"Murky as ever. Your queen must love mystery...."
Krasus did not show how the last comment sent pangs of remorse through the older dragon. The red was not all that certain that he would survive this to see his beloved mate again. True, hehad often been in dangerous situations, but evidently age was catching up even with him.
That did not mean, however, that he had any intention of abandoning his self-chosen role as Azeroth's protector until death truly did claim him.
"Let us concentrate our wills together," he said to Kalec.
It was not something the blue obviously desired, but he nodded, then closed his eyes. Krasus did the same.
The magic of a blue dragon was different than that of a red, but even Krasus was surprised by the particular traits of his companion's. There was a touch to that magic that did not feel at all akin to any other blue's with whom Krasus had been in contact throughout his existence. That even included Malygos himself.
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