Night of the Dragon

dragons that she and Krasus had fought, but as the raptors identified them. These images were the best that the staff could translate the reptiles' method of speaking.

'Fascinating!' Rhonin breathed, at the moment sounding much like the dragon mage. It surprised her that he also apparently saw the images, but then the staff continued to reveal new elements to its abilities.

More images. The ground folk—as best a term as the priestess could come up with from the way the raptors described themselves —fled toward the west. The vision of Grim Batol kept returning between the various scenes and the draenei could only assume that the reason had to be the raptors' constant sensing of the evil arising from it, an evil that even they were too afraid to ignore.

There came next the battle at Menethil Harbor. Battles, in truth. The raptors had attacked the dwarves in the past, but never in such numbers as they had now. Many packs had joined together...the reason for that again an image of a dark Grim Batol.

But the battle to take new and safer lands had not gone well. The dwarves were seen well defending their territory, although at first Iridi was hard-pressed to identify them for what they were. The raptors' vision of the dwarves made them resemble the skardyn, which they knew of also.

There were images of the raptors moving back and forth between the mount and the harbor. The creatures did not stop. Firstthey went one direction, then the other, then back again.

And then Rhonin’s face appeared among the scenes, but not quite the same Rhonin. He looked slightly fresher, younger—and he was shown facing a green-skinned giant.

'I'll be damned!' the wizard blurted. 'That's me around the time the orcs were kicked out....' He pondered that, finally saying, 'Some of the raptors must've been near, possibly this very one since it's older—' He cut off as a new and puzzling image played out.

It was still Rhonin and the orc, but now there was also a raptor —and one that indeed did remind the draenei of the leader— involved in the battle. Yet, it was not seeking the wizard's blood, as one might have expected, but rather the orc's.

And then the orc transformed into a skardyn, which, in turn transformed into one of the bat-winged raptors that were the twilight dragons. No matter which foe faced them, the wizard and the raptor fought it side-by- side.

The lead reptile pulled back slightly. The visions ceased.

'What did that all mean?' the draenei quietly asked, watching as the raptors patiently eyed the wizard.

Rhonin took a long time to answer and when he did, it was to verify the priestess's suspicions. 'To be honest, I think...I think that they want our help. I think they want some sort of alliance. If you can believe that....'

Iridi nodded. If the raptors were as intelligent as they seemed, perhaps the idea was not far from the truth. After all, their lands were very near Grim Batol and she already knew that they had become so desperate that they had launched the attacks on Menethil Harbor. Perhaps they somehow sensed Rhonin's power—even seen him materialize with her—and instinctively looked to him as a possible savior.

Whatever the truth, Rhonin looked willing to believe in his version so much that he stepped toward the lead raptor. The huge creature lowered its head again, as if not wanting to do anything that would offend the human.

The wizard stepped within biting range. With continued calm, he stretched out his hand. 'Come on, my friend,' Rhonin murmured, 'Come on....'

The reptile sniffed it, the jaws large enough to snap off Rhonin's entire arm keeping respectfully shut. The great nostrils ran along the length of the hand and even the arm, in some cases leaving traces of mucus that the human patently ignored.

Then, the lead raptor stepped back and let out an odd, barking sound to the other assembled creatures.

As one, the assembled creatures lowered their heads nearly to the ground... and then turned their baleful gazes to Grim Batol.

Rhonin chuckled darkly. He looked back at Iridi. 'It appears we have a ready-made army.' the wizard commented with a twinkle in his eye. 'I wonder how best we can use it.'

EIGHTTEEN

Vereesa wound her way from one passage to the next, aware that she descended deeper and deeper into the mount without yet any sign to show that her quarry was near. She had thought that she would find some trace leading to Zendarin, but instead the passages through which she journeyed seemed more and more unused, and when the ranger attempted to navigate back from one, she only ended up in yet another unfamiliar tunnel.

Sometimes it is as if Grim Batol itself is alive and toying with all of us, good and evil, Vereesa thought. She knew of legends of such places, areas said to have intelligences of their own, often because they had been repositories for great magic. Certainly, that qualified Grim Batol. There were few places in Azeroth so drenched in such energies for so long.

Determined to find her way, the high elf began using the tiny blade to leave small marks in the walls that she would recognize. Each time she turned a corner, Vereesa also made certain to mark which side was on her right. In this way, the ranger was certain that she would not remain lost.

But when one passage abruptly ended—forcing her to turn back —Vereesa was unable to locate her marks. She stepped back, reaffirmed what direction she should head, and stubbornly pushed on.

However, Vereesa soon saw nothing she recognized and, worse, an attempt to return proved just as vexing as before.

Then, somewhere in the distance, the ranger heard what sounded like skardyn. While at one point she would have kept from their presence, now the high elf saw them as her best hope of not only locating her cousin, but finding out just where she was in general.

The hissing, growling voices seemed to move away from her. Even when she picked up her pace, Vereesa could not get any closer.

More worrisome, her path continued to descend far more than she had originally desired. She had no notion as to what lurked in the lowest depths of Grim Batol and, at the moment, had no interest in finding out unless Zendarin proved to be there, also... which she doubted.

For the most part, Vereesa had been relying on both her eyesight and the small gems that lined the walls every now and then to guide her way. That they had been set by some hand was obvious and that had kept her concern from growing too great, for clearly she was still in passages used by the current or former inhabitants.

Indeed, in one small chamber, she had even found the remains of a troll, likely one who had served here at the time of the orcs' occupation. The cool underground had kept the body fairly intact, so much so that she could still see some of the tattoos on his long, lanky body. The pointed face was stretched into a death's-head grin. There were even a small ax and a dagger, both of which were in a usable state and thus claimed quickly by the high elf.

Yet, as she abandoned the corpse to its endless sleep, it bothered Vereesa that she had found no mark that explained why the troll had perished. Other than being amazingly thin, he had looked almost alive.

Had the troll lost his way here and starved to death so near and yet so far from his comrades? That hardly boded well for the ranger.

Still, with the hand ax and the dagger, Vereesa at least felt better prepared for any foe that she did come up against. She also continued trying to mark her way.

Then, the path she was on grew less and less illuminated until she finally turned into a passage utterly devoid of any of the glowing crystals. Frustration growing, Vereesa retreated to the previous tunnel and went on until she found another.

That, too, was unlit.

Twice more, she paced down some length of the lit passage, only to find side tunnels filled with darkness.