Night of the Dragon

had raised wards against a reoccurrence of that nature. Indeed, from what little that the dragon mage could sense, what followed wielded a magic different from that to which he was used.

For a region supposedly abandoned by any creature of reason, the Wetlands and Grim Batol were proving quite active. Krasus finally went against his better judgment and sought with his mind to better probe the direction in which he felt the hound on his heels followed.

There was a brief trace... and then nothing. The dragon mage frowned. Something was not right—

A cloaked figure suddenly leapt out from among the trees, one obscured foot pounding into Krasus's chest with astounding force. The lanky spellcaster went flying back.

But he was hardly beaten. His body stopped falling just inches from the ground, then immediately righted itself. The cowled mage glared in the direction of his attacker, a spell ready.

The mysterious attacker was nowhere to be seen.

Krasus spun about, arm raised.

He barely blocked the strike coming at his throat from behind, a blow certain to at least incapacitate him, if not shatter his windpipe. Whoever he fought had knowledge of all the most sensitive places to hit. The kick would have left any human, elf, or dwarf unconscious, their breath crushed from their lungs. Only because of what Krasus actually was had he been able to withstand the attack... and this one as well.

Yet, even as he deflected that blow, his assailant summoned into being an odd staff... the crystal tip of which promptly touched Krasus on the chest.

He let out a roar worthy of any dragon as the pain engulfed him. Wards that should have held against most magical attacks failed utterly... because, he sensed belatedly, the forces unleashed by the crystal were unlike the arcane magics of Azeroth.

And only then did Krasus have a suspicion as to just what his attacker was.

Unfortunately, he lacked the strength to stand, much less speak. Legs collapsing under him, the dragon mage tumbled to the ground.

Barely had he done so, when the cloaked form set one foot on his side and the tip of the staff against the very spot that it had just touched.

'Where is he?' a female voice with an accent that verified for Krasus his suspicions demanded. 'What have you done with him?'

'I—I have no Idea of whom you speak!' he managed. Then, trusting in his judgment, he said in another language, 'But a draenei is no enemy to one of my kind, child....'

The cloaked figure hesitated. 'No... you must be the one.... The trail led me here...'

Still speaking the draenei's tongue, Krasus returned, 'I have found trails involving Grim Batol may lead anywhere but the truth.'

There was another pause, then, 'There is much in that. Far too much.'

She withdrew the staff, which then vanished.

The dragon mage nodded in interest. 'Seldom have I met a priest or priestess of the draenei, and never have I seen one who wielded such a gift from the wondrous naaru....'

Her last bit of uncertainty vanished. Pulling back her hood, she revealed herself to also be one of the youngest draenei Krasus had thus far come across. 'I sense in your tone nothing but truth. My name is Iridi....' She extended a hand to help him up. 'And when I hear you speak of the naaru, I hear something in your voice that places you closer to them than you are to me...'

'I would claim no such vaunted position. I am a spellcaster of some power, yes.' She had clearly not seen him in his true form. For the moment, he preferred to keep that part of his identity even from her. 'You may call me Krasus, child.'

Her exotic eyes narrowed and a slight smile crossed her face. 'Krasus.. .may I put a hand to your chest? I mean no harm by it. It is a sign of trust among those of my particular order.'

He nodded. Iridi placed her palm atop his robe, then closed her eyes.

Krasus felt a slight warmth. Startled, he pulled back.

The draenei's eyes shot open. She wore a look of utter astonishment. 'You are not as you appear, Krasus!'

'No.' The dragon mage said nothing more. 'And neither are you, it seems.' He felt no anger toward her, despite her trick. In truth, Iridi had astounded him in return. He had not experienced such a spell among the draenei, whether spellcaster or priest. Iridi seemed to have abilities rare even among her own kind.

He wondered again about the staff. Krasus knew just enough about the naaru to know that she would not have been given it without a good reason.

The priestess went down on one knee. Her continued reverence made Krasus uncomfortable, for he had no desire for anyone to honor him.

'Rise up,' he insisted.

Iridi did, albeit slowly. Her eyes continued to stretch wide, as if she tried to imagine Krasus as he truly was. 'Lord of the air, forgive me for attacking you like a fool—'

'There is nothing to forgive, and do not call me by such a title.'

She shook her head. 'But you are one of the winged ones.' Her eyes shut briefly, then the draenei added, 'Of those who follow the cause of life...'

Krasus was more and more impressed by the priestess. She had learned all that simply by touching him. He made a note to himself to not permit the palm gesture any more should he ever meet another draenei who made such a request.

Although Krasus now at least somewhat understood how anyone could have tracked him despite his wards—and he vowed that from here on that even to a draenei he would be invisible—there was yet the question of what the priestess was doing in this forsaken land in the first place.

However, before he could ask, the dragon mage was suddenly struck as if by an unseen sword through his heart. The sense of loss that he had felt when one of his duplicates had been eradicated overwhelmed him again, but doubly so.

'Great one,' Iridi gasped, reaching for him. 'What ails you?'

Krasus could barely stand. Two more quickly gone... and so close together! What is happening? What is—

He blacked out.

Iridi grabbed for the cowled figure just before he would have fallen. She was at a loss as to what had just happened. It had been enough of a struggle for her mind when she had discovered that the figure that she had so recklessly attacked was in actuality far more than the priestess had imagined him—and certainly not the slim, elven figure of whom she had only gotten a brief glance from too long of a distance back In Draenor.

One of the lords of the air... a red dragon... Iridi could scarcely believe that she had taken on such an ancient leviathan. The priestess doubted very much that she had actually bested Krasus— not his dragon name, that much the draenei knew—by herself and now his collapse surely proved her right. He had clearly been weakened from the start, most likely by what had assailed him now.

Gripping the slumped body as best she could, Iridi dragged Krasus to the side of a small, squat hill. The moment that the priestess felt secure with how he lay, she began seeing just what she could do to help.

There were no visual signs as to his ailment. Kneeling, the draenei placed her palms a few inches above Krasus's head. She did not care for what she intended next, but it was her best chance to find out quickly what had happened.

Barely had Iridi begun to concentrate when voices and images flashed through her mind. A red-haired human with the look of a mage on him. An antlered, stalwart figure who appeared to be a night elf—and one of the druids of which she had heard but herself had not yet seen. A female elf of lighter complexion, a fighter whose image seemed bound to the human, oddly enough.

The voices intermingled randomly with the images.

You would sacrifice anything for her, would you not, Koriaistrasz?

I had thought you dead. I mourned you for a long time....

They've that much faith left in me? After the others died?

You of all should understand my need to discover the truth.

And more and more faces. A scarred, war-weary orc. Another night elf... whose blinded face suddenly