keeping ahead of his pursuer.
That was proving far from simple. The huge black was a skilled flyer, rolling and banking as the narrow gaps his prey sought necessitated. The hippogriff, too, excelled in flying, but had to beat its wings much, much more just to keep pace with the monster behind it. Even with those efforts, however, the dragon slowly inched closer.
A roar warned Krasus moments before another column of lava flew past where he had just been. Only his knowledge of a black dragon's tactics had saved him that time. Even still, several places on his robe smoked from where tiny splatters had caught him, while his mount squirmed from ash that had landed on one hind leg.
Krasus rode under a massive beaklike projection on the side of one mountain, then soared through a crack that made two peaks out of one. Each time, the dragon managed to avoid crashing despite the incredible speed with which he raced.
The mountain that the dragon mage had pointed out to Malfurion was fast approaching. In spite of the danger to him, Krasus took the time to peer south, where the druid should have been. He neither heard nor saw anything, but continued on as he planned, hoping that somehow matters would work out.
Again the dragon roared. A blast shot past Krasus, who frowned at his pursuer's sudden lack of aim.
Only when the mountainside ahead on his right shattered, spilling toward him, did Krasus know that he had been outmaneuvered.
He had the hippogriff pull up swiftly and away. Even still, both were pelted by a storm of earth and rock. A chunk the size of Krasus's head bounded off the flank of the animal, causing it to squeal and nearly toss its passenger to his doom. Only Krasus's deathlike grip kept him from slipping.
A great stench washed over rider and steed. The black was right behind them. Krasus raised his hand and uttered the quickest spell he could command.
A random series of light bursts exploded in front of the leviathan. They were relatively harmless, but they startled the dragon, even blinded him momentarily. He twisted, roaring his anger. One wing struck a mountain, tearing away tons of stone.
Krasus's quick thinking had bought him a few scant seconds, nothing more. He hoped that the druid had managed to outpace the other dragon, but Krasus knew his kind's tenacity. If Malfurion still lived, he likely held no greater a lead on his hunter than the mage did with his own.
Then, just as the mountain he had chosen for the rendezvous arose before him, Krasus caught a glimpse of the other rider. The hippogriff looked frantic, and Malfurion had his head buried in its neck. Right behind them came the second behemoth.
Krasus guided his own mount toward Malfurion's, trying to keep just a little ahead of where the druid would be when they crossed paths. His animal called out, alerting not only its mate, but the druid, too. Malfurion lifted his head, the only sign that he had noticed his companion.
As they met at the southern face of the mountain, Krasus urged his hippogriff around it. Malfurion cut in the opposite direction. A moment later, the larger black, ignoring the other tiny figure, followed after Krasus. His comrade continued his chase of the druid.
If there was one advantage that Krasus had over the black dragons, it was that they did not know he was one of their kind. Nor, for that matter, did they realize that he had flown this region so often in his long life that he likely knew its myriad paths better than anyone or anything.
Again the giant behind him roared, and this time the blast struck so close that it left a seared edge on the mountain. making Krasus choke. Still the hippogriff raced along, trusting in its swiftness and its rider's guidance. Krasus had it drop slightly, then forced it to slow. The animal fought the second command, but the mage used his considerable will to overcome any resistance.
And just as the hippogriff obeyed, Malfurion materialized around the mountain's edge.
Krasus had his beast rise slightly to compensate for the oncoming druid. He and Malfurion rode nearly level; any closer and they would have collided.
The mage caught sight of the edge of a leathery wing behind his companion.
He forced the hippogriff down again.
Malfurion had the second animal drive up into the sky with such speed and abruptness that the druid almost slid off its back.
Krasus's pursuer had no time to register the change in direction. Nor, for that matter, did the druid's. So caught up in their own hunts, the dragons could not stop their momentum.
With a thundering boom, the two giants collided head on.
The dragons roared in pain and shock. Tangled together, they rolled to the side, crashing into the very peak that Krasus had earlier chosen.
The entire region shook as they battered against it. From his high seat, Krasus thought he heard the crack of bone, but he did not wait around to find out. As the two dragons fell from sight, Krasus waved Malfurion on. By the time the two leviathans recovered, the mage and the druid would be long gone.
Krasus eyed the peaks rising ahead. He was very near his goal now…and more than ever, he needed to know just what was happening.
Twelve
Illidan should have been going over strategy with the Moon Guard, but at that moment he couldn't have cared less about the war. All he could think about was that he had made an abysmal fool out of himself in front of Tyrande. He had bared his soul to her, only to discover that his brother had already staked his territory. Tyrande had chosen Malfurion.
The worst of it was, his twin was probably too caught up in his craft to notice.
Lord Ravencrest's personal sorcerer stalked past a picket. The guard stationed there raised his weapon and, in a slightly anxious voice, declared, 'All are to stay within the bounds of the camp, Master Illidan! By order of-'
'I know whose order it is.'
'But-'
Illidan's amber eyes stared deep. The soldier swallowed and stepped aside.
The area beyond was still slightly wooded, the Burning Legion having lost the opportunity during their brief hold to destroy everything. While many took heart from this fact, Illidan would not have cared if the entire area had been scorched. He raised one hand slightly and even considered starting the conflagration himself, then dropped the idea.
Even though Malfurion had run afoul of demons in the lands south, his brother had no fear of doing likewise here. In the first place, Illidan walked only a short distance from the camp, stepping barely out of sight. In the second place, any demon who tried to attack him now would have been reduced to ash in the blink of an eye. Illidan's inner rage was such that he dreamed of fighting something, anything, in order to drain himself of the jealousy he felt now against Malfurion.
But no felbeast sought to drain him dry, no Infernal attempted to barrel him over. No Eredar, no Doomguard, not even one of the laughable Fel Guard. The whole of the Burning Legion feared to face Illidan alone, for they knew he was an unbeatable force.
Save where it concerned the love of one person.
Finding a huge rock upon which to sit, Illidan thought over all his wonderful plans. Lord Ravencrest's adoption of him as one of his most trusted servants had been a coup; it had enabled the twin to at last seriously consider what had been formulating in his mind for the previous three seasons. He had long looked past Tyrande as a child, and saw her as the beauteous female that she was. While Malfurion had talked to birds, he had planned on how to ask Tyrande to be his mate.
In his head, everything had fallen into place perfectly. One could not but help admire his position, and he knew that many other females had indicated their desire for him. Over a short period of time, Illidan had gained control of those Moon Guard left alive, and his hand had saved many night elves from destruction. He was powerful, handsome, and a hero. Tyrande should have fallen over herself to be his.
