Night of the Dragon

The shrouded sky rumbled, threatening a powerful storm. The huge flyer immediately darted upward, passing through clouds and rising up to where the moon shone down upon the darkening cloud cover.

Fatigue already touched the flyer, but it pushed on. It had a certain location in mind before it could rest and would reach it no matter how much the struggle. The vast, webbed wings beat harder, enabling the flyer to cut the miles as if they were nothing... which indeed they were to this particular dragon.

The storm stirred to waking below, but above there was only the dragon and moon. The former ignored the latter utterly, though its light well-illumlnated the scaled behemoth's path, not to mention the behemoth itself.

And in that light, the dragon's scales shone almost as bright as the moon... if the moon were blue.

FIVE

Korialstrasz awoke to the realization that he had been asleep.

It was not what he should have been doing.

His second discovery was that he no longer wore his true form, but was shaped and clad as Krasus.

And as Krasus, he slowly registered his surroundings, a ragged cave perched on the side of a desolate hill overlooking a swampy region. Krasus knew immediately where he was, though how he had gotten here was still a lost memory.

The Wetlands were near his goal, but not exactly on his original path. The dragon mage stumbled toward the cave's edge, then studied the sky. It gave him no clue as to his coming here.

The last thing that he recalled, he had been using what little strength he had to reach the shore. It had been his intention to find a secluded area, then settle down for a short rest.

From there, Krasus had no idea what had happened... and that was a rare instance for him. He did not like being at a loss, especially under the circumstances. In addition, Krasus had no idea exactly how long he had been asleep. A dragon could sleep for minutes, hours, days, weeks... It all depended upon circumstances.

This trek has been a troublesome one from the first breath on. That cannot be coincidence. He glared at his surroundings, momentarily blaming them for his state.

Then, drawing himself together, Krasus pushed aside his frustrations. If there was a reason for his unnatural slumber, he would likely learn it soon enough. What mattered was that he was so verynear his destination.

So very near Grim Batol.

Krasus began the transformation to Korialstrasz... then hesitated. A dragon was a hard thing to miss, even by the blind. He had a better chance of encroaching on the dread mountain if he remained as he was. Indeed, that had been his likely intention when first he had left his sanctum, but his disturbing sleep had momentarily made him forget. Perhaps he had even transformed into his smaller form for that reason...

'So it shall be, then.' Krasus eyed the hillside, seeking a path down. If he hoped to remain hidden from those watching for magical beings such as himself, it behooved him to use only enough of his power to shield his presence. Besides, his current physical form was not adverse to hard effort.

Gloved hands took hold of the rocky hillside as he cautiously lowered himself down into the Wetlands. The difference in the climate became noticeable almost immediately; the land below was far more humid. Fortunately, though he resembled an elf—albeit a very pale one—Krasus had a red dragon's adaptability to heat. The Wetlands bothered him not in the least; the caverns of his flight were far more comfortably hot and, depending on the location, much more moist.

The cries of Wetlands life were oddly muted as Krasus stepped onto the soft, wet soil. In general, a place such as this was teeming with animals and insects eager to vocalize their presence. However, though he heard some of both groups, there should have been much more activity.

It was as if much of the life here was wary of imminent threat... something that Krasus also felt.

But nothing reared its ugly head nor attacked him with vile magic. Krasus journeyed deeper into the swampy region, heading on a path directly toward Grim Batol.

The lush growth quickly enveloped him, but as Krasus shoved vines from his face, he noted something about that plant life. It had an ill feeling to it. Outwardly, it appeared normal, but inside, there was a sense that something had become twisted, that the Wetlands were changing for the worst.

The taint from the cursed mount spreads.... This cannot go on. He grimly shoved the next several branches and vines, furious with himself most of all for ignoring the benighted land after freeing his beloved queen and ridding the mountains of the orcs and the accursed Demon Soul. It should have been at that time that he personally went into the depths of Grim Batol and eradicated any darkness remaining within. Even while his own flight, which had included some of his offspring, had been guarding the region. Krasus had done nothing. There had always been some other crisis, some other danger, turning him from this task.

But hindsight was ever perfect, whereas Krasus was not. That was no excuse, of course, but it did ease his guilt a little.

Each step of his boots left a squishing sound that echoed much too loudly, but Krasus did nothing to still the sound. That would have required more magic. He still hoped to sneak upon whatever lurked In Grim Batol, though that notion was likely more and more nothing but a dream.

Small insects hovered near him, but then flew off. Most of those who dined on blood could sense that his was not to their taste.

But something else evidently believed that Krasus would make a fine meal. He noted its presence nearby, yet could not sense exactly where without possibly making himself known to anything lurking in the distant mountain. Krasus moved with caution: powerful as he was in this form, he was not invulnerable.

Yet, as he trudged along, nothing attacked. The violet-clad figure moved into the deepest part of the Wetlands and finally decided that it was time to risk sending his mind out toward Grim Batol.

Finding an area relatively far from the shrouded waters of the swamp. Krasus planted himself against a mossy tree and concentrated. Immediately, his view expanded in all directions. A human mind could not have coped with such a complete survey, buta dragon's mind was far more complex, far more advanced.

But there was only one direction that concerned him. Drawing his thoughts together, the dragon mage focused on the mountain. Now, he saw all that lay ahead as if he already trod those grounds. He had made better time than he had umagined, but still had far to go... That, however, did not concern him. Instead, he pushed his mind on to the barren lands immediately surrounding Grim Batol. There, his sense of unease magnified a thousandfold. The wrongness around and within the mountain screamed at Krasus to learn its secrets.

Eyes narrowed, he shoved his mind into Grim Batol itself.

Darkness at first filled his gaze, but then fragments of images appeared as Krasus entered the caverns. However, his first full glimpse of Grim Batol's interior was a disappointing one, for all he saw was shadowed stalactites and stalagmites. There were a few bones in the chamber, orс bones, but they were clearly from the battle that had ousted the green warriors from Grim Batol.

Yet, the wrongness was too powerful to ignore. Krasus concentrated....

His brow rose. Something was coming. He quickly withdrew— only to discover that his mind could not retreat from Grim Batol.

Krasus tried, but it was as if he actually stood before the tons of stone and dirt, trying to pound his way through with only his fists. All that he could see was the chamber with the skeletons and the blackness that marked the mountainside through which he wished to pass again.

And worse, because of that, he could not even see what was happening around his own body.

Krasus tried again to retreat, but with no better result. Each moment, he became certain that whoever had set the trap would now strike... yet nothing else happened.

But although this snare appeared now to be one set in place and possibly forgotten, Krasus still needed to free himself as quickly as possible. He concentrated on his body as he had last seen it, imagining his mind again within.

Yet, still nothing happened. The dragon mage thought for a moment, then turned his attention to locating