Night of the Dragon

caught a skardyn above as it crawled from a nearby hole. The lash circled one arm enough so that when the dwarf pulled, his target lost hold.

Unfortunately, the Bronzebeards still could not break through. Grenda looked back, wondering if the rest should retreat.

Skardyn burst out of the other passage. The dwarves were trapped between them on a narrow ridge where, one way or anotherthey would be picked off until they either surrendered or perished.

And then, to the utter surprise of everyone—but especially the skardyn—a new menace materialized near the captured dragon, a menace of the likes Grenda could only imagine out of her nightmares.

A raptor... raptors...

Grenda counted two, then three, then four or more. She could swear that they literally popped into existence, for what else would explain their sudden, impossible presence in here of all places.

The raptors faced away from the dragon, striking at the nearest skardyn with wild abandon. Caught off- guard, the nearest skardyn perished in a quick ripping of flesh.

And as the reptiles turned the battle to utter chaos, a more familiar figure appeared near the bound leviathan: Iridi, the draenei, but not alone. With her was a human who bore the look of a wizard, a human with thick, red hair.

Grenda knew of only one wizard with red hair and although there might be more, she had to assume that there was only one daring—perhaps foolhardy—enough to leap into Grim Batol. Rom had told her the stories of the human, and the ranger had mentioned him, too, albeit in a much more intimate manner.

Rhonin Dragonhead had come to their rescue.

But that was not quite the case, Grenda thought the next second. First, he could not have known that they would be here at this moment. In Grim Batol, yes, but not here. Indeed, both he and the priestess looked far more concerned with the unsettling dragon than anyone else. Iridi was working feverishly at one of the crystals that marked each end of the strands holding the massive prisoner in place. The female dwarf understood that they were trying to release the behemoth.

She thought them both insane, but had to assume that they knew something that she did not. What mattered more to her, though, was the sudden turn of events. With the skardyn now forced to take on not one but two zealous foes—and a wizard besides—she had hopes for her people's survival.

Then, from one of the lower passages, half a dozen dragonspawn led by a drakonid charged toward Iridi and Rhonin. A raptor materialized next to one of the dragonspawn and immediately attacked. Grenda noticed that Rhonin had gestured at the same time. He looked determined, but weary, and she knew that he had already spent himself much to create this fantastic scenario.

Two more of the raptors turned to attack the newcomers. A dragonspawn with an ax cut down the first, but then the second closed with the four-legged giant.

A heavy figure suddenly dropped down on the female dwarf. Captivated by the events below, Grenda had forgotten to watch her own back. The skardyn pressed down on her, trying to push the dwarven commander off the ledge.

Grenda twisted, managing to turn on her back. The monstrous countenance of the degenerated Dark Iron loomed inches from her own face. The sharp teeth tried to snap at her nose.

'You—are—one filthy—beast!' she snapped. Her left arm collapsed, as if weak. The skardyn—it was Impossible to tell whether the scaly thing was male or female—hissed in anticipation, a hiss that ended in a choking sound as the skilled Bronzebeard warrior slipped her left hand under its guard, formed a strong edge with the fingers, and jammed them into his squat, short throat.

The skardyn pulled back as it tried to breathe. Grenda used her body to shove the gasping fiend off both her and the ridge.

She rose to find her comrades holding their own. Below, the raptors and Rhonin kept the other guards at bay, but Iridi appeared to be having difficulty with what she was attempting. At the very least, it seemed to Grenda that the draenei was no further along than she had been moments before.

Suddenly, thunder shook the cavern, thunder so powerful that it sent skardyn plummeting from the walls and dwarves from the ledge. Grenda had never heard such thunder and was amazed that it could be felt so deep within Grim Batol.

But then the dwarf realized why she had never heard such thunder... because it was not thunder at all.

It was a roar.

The time has come, Zendarin Windrunner had decided but minutes before. This is no longer worth my efforts....

He had always known his partner in this affair was mad, but apparently madness was commonplace when it came to anything revolving around this accursed lump of dirt called Grim Batol. He himself must have been mad to have ever accepted her offer to reveal to him new sources of magical energy in exchange for his assistance with her spells. Their creation would have given him access to more magic than a thousand blood elves could gather in their not inconsiderable lifetimes...magic and dominance.

But now was the moment to begin what he had intended all along. The thing in the pit had grown rapidly; it was surely near its full potential.

All Zendarin had to do was give it that final push... and at the same time seal his own mastery over it.

He stepped to the pit. Although he gazed hard, their creation was still difficult to make out. The creature radiated a unique, fascinating energy that the blood elf hungered badly for, but that was a feast for a better time. Now...now he had to be the one to do the giving.

Through the cerulean cube in the other chamber, the nether dragon was ever bound to the thing here. However, the link had to be purposely opened, generally by Zendarin and the dark lady together. Zendarin had always indicated that the staff he had stolen could do no more than it had in that regard.

Naturally, he had lied.

The staff was fascinating. He had tricked the draenei into revealing the secrets of its use while in another guise. He had discovered how to make the staff work for him and him alone so that no one could think to take it from him in turn. If she had tried,the staff would have returned to its creators, the beings called the naaru. That was what should have happened when he had slain the draenei. If not for the fact that he had learned the secret of transfer, a secret even she could not peel from his mind.

That was perhaps the greatest reason why she had never actually followed through with her threats against him. Despite all her hubris, Zendarin knew that he had still been an essential element of the spellwork.

But where she desired domination over all, he would be satisfied with domination over some and the satiation of his eternal hunger. Zendarin leaned over the edge more and pointed the crystal at where he best estimated the bulk of the creature—Dargonax, she had so grandiosely called it—and concentrated.

The staff's astounding energy flowed into the pit. As it struck, it outlined for the first time Dargonax's full glory.

Zendarin gasped and almost lost his focus. It was far more huge and powerful than he had thought! Surely even she did not comprehend the full scope of what they had wrought.

And that only made the blood elf grin more eagerly. As he fed the staff's power into the beast, he also used it to awaken the cube, awaken it and demand that it take from the imprisoned dragon all that it could and feed that also into Dargonax.

As both magical streams poured into the essence of the creature, it suddenly let loose with a tremendous roar that shook Grim Batol. However, caught up in his lust for the greater magic with which he believed his betrayal would reward him, the blood elf only laughed. He was master of the situation now.

He was master of everything....

But as Zendarin continued with his traitorous act, he did not notice a shadow that separated from others in the chamber.

Sinestra watched the blood elf commit to his betrayal. She smiled in satisfaction as he worked to take all that she had set intoplace as his own. When Sinestra was certain that there would be no going back for Zendarin, she sank into the shadows again and vanished.

All was going just as Deathwing's consort had planned, all save for the question of Korialstrasz.