Night of the Dragon

was almost certain that the female knew his intentions and toyed with him.

'Zendarin!'

The nether dragon did not expect the blood elf to respond—he did not expect the blood elf to even have stayed in the vicinity—but Zendarin surprised him by striding into the chamber. His expression was all innocence... or at least as much innocence as one of his kind could possibly display.

'I was just looking for you,' the blood elf remarked.

'Looking for me—or looking out for me?'

She turned her ravaged side to Zendarin, much to the nether dragon's relief. Some of the shivering eased. Some.

'We are in a very delicate period here, Zendarin. You are aware of that?'

He acted offended. 'Of course, I do or—'

The blood elf shrieked as his body suddenly burned as if on fire from within. His blood felt like molten lava and Zendarin expected it at any moment to burst through his flesh.

He dropped to his knees. The staff appeared in one hand, but, if he thought to use it somehow, he never got the chance. It slipped from his grasp and, in doing so, vanished again.

'It makes you want to tear your skin off or bleed yourself dry just to escape the torture, does it not? But you can never escape it... I can never escape it...'

The blood elf rolled on his side, clawing at his chest. She watched him for another minute, then gestured curtly.

The pain abruptly ceased. Zendarin, sweat bathing his body, stopped groaning and, after a time, managed to catch his breath. He peered up at the lady in black, no guile in his face whatsoever.

'A reminder was in order here. The last reminder. You have been offered much by me, but most of all, you have been offered a path to a fount of energy such as your miserable kind can only dream.'

The blood elf wisely said nothing.

'I know how much that purloined toy of yours means to you,' she added, likely speaking of the staff. 'And I sense, as you do, that among those approaching is one who carries its twin. How nice, you no doubt believed, to add it to your collection.... Am I correct?'

Zendarin managed a very cautious nod.

'Well, if the other's toy becomes available in the process, it is yours to claim... but I will not condone any interference in my desires.'

'I—I would never—'

'Think careful of your next words, Zendarin Windrunner. You have already gone far in disappointing me. I hate disappointments. My son and daughter were quite the disappointments...'

'You will not be disappointed. All—all will go as you wish, my lady....'

She smiled, a sight that shook both nether dragon and blood elf. 'That is all I ask...all...'

She whirled on Zzeraku, who wanted to hide from her. However, her words were still directed toward the blood elf, who had wisely not moved.

'Still, your infantile attempt to take that other toy has given me the information I need on him. The time has come to move in that regard. You may be interested to know that Rask is already out hunting, with a pack of skardyn, of course. I've also made use of your little pet.'

This caused Zendarin's gaze to narrow. 'Of course... I said that it would be available when you needed it for him.'

“So glad you approve,' she returned with open mockery. 'I thought you might be surprised that it obeyed me without your permission...'

'Of course not...'

The veiled sorceress clapped her hands together in satisfaction. 'Shall we go prepare for company?' Her dread smile turned on Zzeraku. 'And, after that, a proper feeding. The poor dear is growing hungry. Very hungry...'

She departed with the blood elf in tow. Her parting words left the nether dragon to wonder whether, like Zendarin, the lady in black was just as aware of her captive's intentions and had warned him that, whatever he dreamed he could accomplish, he was sorely mistaken.

And, if that were the case, there was no hope for Zzeraku whatsoever....

TEN

The howls were like those of no hound, though there was in them that same sort of bestial determination to hunt down the prey. To those who listened very close, they were more akin to the voices of men...or dwarves.

The skardyn raced along the landscape of Grim Batol, more animal than thinking creature. They hopped along the jagged ground, moving with far more swiftness than their stocky shapes would have let on. Others crawled up and over the rocks, even clinging to the underside as they searched for prey.

With eagerness, they sniffed the earth, the air, what life there was around them. They knew, through both their mistress and their hunt master, where exactly the prey had last been located, but there was always the chance that other intruders might be near, such as the Bronzebeards. The skardyn had a special interest in hunting down their distant cousins, if possible.

After all, Bronzebeards made, for them, good eating.

Whether on two legs or all lour limbs, whether on the ground or clambering along the rock face, the wild pack quickly covered the distances. Not far behind, a small band of dragonspawn kept pace. They were not the hunt masters, merely the handlers. That position belonged to the foremost of the dark lady's scaly servants, the drakonid, Rask.

Rask was as larger than the others of his monstrous kind as he was more vicious. Yet, he also had a quick mind for a drakonid and, in some ways, a more cunning one than even a blood elf or dwarf. He knew things of his mistress that even Zendarin did not and, because of those, he obeyed her commands with something approaching... worship.

With as much bloodlust as the skardyn, he led the dragonspawn under his command in search of the prey. His mistress had told him what to expect and, despite the immensity of his mission, Rask was only too eager to confront the intruders.

'Move...' he grated at the nearest skardyn, emphasizing his impatience with the crack of a whip. 'Find them....'

The skardyn scampered on. They were close now. Very close.

Rask turned to the dragonspawn nearest him. 'The signal...'

The guard gave him a savage grin, then took the torch he was carrying and waved it three times toward the rear of the hunt.

A shimmering form briefly materialized, then vanished again.

Rask nodded. 'Good...' He cracked his whip at a nearby skardyn. 'We have them....'

'There is no longer any reason for pretense.' Krasus declared grimly. 'What we seek now actively seeks us....'

'Must you ever state the obvious?' Kalec remarked with some lingering enmity.

Krasus ignored him, instead spreading his arms. The cowled figure began transforming—

But with a sudden groan, he doubled over, still very much looking like some variation of elf and not in the least like his true identity.

As Iridi leapt to his aid, Kalec began his transformation. Unlike Krasus, he suffered no setback as he went from fighter to dragon. 'Keep the old one safe!' the blue dragon ordered. He took to the air.

The draenei knew that there was some mistake in letting Kalec— or Kalecgos now—go, but Krasus again needed her. She leaned over the fallen figure, trying to see what she could do.

'This is...all planned.' he gasped. 'This weakness! This was... begun long before I came here....'