Night of the Dragon

A second burst of blue light almost crushed her into the floor. The draenei barely dodged out of the path. It did not seem right to her that the monster could send the staff's power back twice; that should have been an impossibility. She could only assume that this was another benefit of the transformation.

Skardyn in her vicinity ran off as if on fire. That none of these foul creatures—supposedly serving the same entity—desired to beanywhere near the mageslayer did not bode well.

Iridi suddenly noticed that the nether dragon sought her attention. The draenei summoned the staff back.

There...there... Zzeraku managed. That...

'That' was an altar whose base included what appeared to be carvings shaped like dragons. Resting on it was a cube of some bluish tint. There was something about the cube that made the draenei hesitant to draw near it.

The staff... the nether dragon struggled to continue. It might stir the cube... might begin the feeding...

Iridi had no idea what he meant by the last, only that the cube was possibly her only hope. She dismissed the staff again, then, as the mageslayer neared, performed an athletic leap over its very head.

What vaguely resembled a clawed appendage grabbed for her, barely missing. The mageslayer turned as the draenei landed. Its midsection had turned darker.

A black light shot out at her.

The priestess avoided being struck, but a skardyn seeking to flee from behind her moved too slow. The light enveloped it—and with a squeal, the skardyn went spinning into the nearest wall, striking so hard that Iridi could hear its bones crack. The dead skardyn slid in an ungainly lump to the floor.

Before the mageslayer could strike again, the draenei reached the altar. Praying that Zzeraku had not steered her terribly wrong. Iridi summoned the naaru staff.

The center of the mageslayer darkened again.

Iridi pointed the crystal at the cube.

Think... think of the creature... Zzeraku suddenly warned. Then use... the staff...

She did as told. Imagining the abomination in her mind.

The staff fed power into the cube. The cube flared bright—

An eerie, whistling sound filled the chamber. Iridi belatedly realized that it came from the mageslayer.

The monster lost all cohesion. As a swirling mass of energy, the mageslayer flew toward the draenei... then suddenly sank into the cube without a trace.

The priestess stood there disbelieving.

Beware! Zzeraku warned.

Some of the skardyn began recovering from their own surprise and fear enough to recall that there was still an intruder. They started for her.

She spun around. They were coming from all sides again. She raised the staff—

And suddenly there was a robed figure with red hair standing next to her. He wrapped his arms around the draenei before she could react.

'Damn it! You're not her!'

Before she could respond, the cavern chamber disappeared. Iridi cried out in frustration. 'No!'

She was outside again. Outside the mount that she had so desperately tried to enter.

'No!' the priestess repeated. 'No!'

'Be quiet!' The robed figure spun her around. For the first time, she saw that he was human. Under the thick, fiery hair, eyes of bright emerald green stared back at her. He was not unhandsome for one of his kind, although his nose had clearly been broken sometime far in the past. He had a strong jaw and angular features and a stubborn expression that well matched his red hair.

On the breast of his robe had been sewn an eye of gold on a field of violet. Below the eye were three daggers, also gold, that pointed downward.

Iridi recognized the symbol of Dalaran.

'You are the wizard Rhonin, mate of the high elf, Vereesa,' she quietly declared.

'You know her? You know where she is? I tried to locate her and sensed some magical forces in play. Vereesa's always in the middle of such things....' He cursed at himself. I tried something and it failed. But at least you're safe.'

'But I need to get back inside! I was trying to free the nether dragon—'

The spellcaster looked as if she were mad. 'Why in the world would you do something that mad? I've heard from those who've seen what they can do! Destroy the creature, maybe, but free it?'

'I've seen into his mind. Zzeraku means no ill. He's done terrible things in the past, but he's changed now....'

'As simple as that, is it? And you're absolutely certain you read him true?'

'I am... and I will not back down on this. He must be freed and for many reasons....' The draenei dismissed her staff. 'He is the key to whatever is going on. They're using Zzeraku to create some terrible creature....'

Rhonin grimaced. 'It never ends, does it? Never any true peace for Azeroth... gods, I wish Krasus were here at least!'

It did not surprise the priestess to learn that the wizard knew the red dragon. With some trepidation, she said, 'Krasus is also in Grim Batol... as a prisoner.'

'That's not possible. Not him...'

'He sent me to safety just before he and a younger blue dragon —Kalec—were captured. There was a mageslayer—'

'That wouldn't stop him,' Rhonin scoffed.

'There was something different about it, he indicated. It had been enhanced by those in Grim Batol.'

A sound from the direction of the mountain made them both still. Rhonin took hold of her arm. 'I should be able to do this one more time. Jumping into Grim Batol took more than even I thought.'

'We're going back inside?'

He gave her a harsh laugh. 'Not at the moment, not if you don't want to end up a part of the mount itself for the rest of eternity. No, I'm sending us somewhere safer... relatively speaking.'

Rhonin's brow furrowed in concentration. Iridi started to protest again. Surely, he, of all people, understood the need to return to Grim Batol.

But it was too late. The air around the pair crackled... and both vanished once more.

Krasus floated in an oppressive darkness, the sense that it was seeking to crush him ever prevalent. He had heard stories of confinement in chrysalun chambers, horrible tales of dragons and other magical beings driven mad by years, decades, even centuries of entrapment. Time, after all, did not flow inside as it did in the true world. For all he knew, his friends and comrades were all long dead and whatever evil Sinestra had birthed in the pits of Grim Batol had wreaked havoc all over Azeroth.

No! That has not happened! Not yet! The dragon mage berated himself for such dire assumptions. Deathwing's consort intended to use his magical essence to feed her abominations; therefore, there was still hope... at least for all save Kalec.

He mourned the blue's violent passing. The thing in the pit, the thing already so well-adapted at shielding itself from powerful dragons, had surely made a grisly meal out of Kalec. It infuriated Krasus that he had been unable to do anything to save his companion, infuriated him more that no one had been able to depend upon him. He had no idea what had happened to Iridi. In desperation, he had transported her to the one area that he knew of around Grim Batol—knowledge gleaned from those of his kind who had stood guard over the evil mount—where magic was difficult to use. There, she would have at least had a chance to recover and. If wise, abandon the area as soon as possible.

Krasus doubted that she had done so.

Not for the first time, the dragon mage tested the limits of his prison. It was ironic that, in here of all places, he was more at his full strength than anywhere else in and around Grim Batol. The chamber was a pocket universe in itself, one that drew upon the victim's own magic to keep the latter imprisoned. Yet, it also cut him off