Night of the Dragon (wow-5)

by Richard A. Knaak

  Sintharia was the only one of his consorts known to have survived those matings, so to speak, though her savage burns clearly still festered after all these centuries. They had perhaps been responsible for giving her a madness equal to her lord's. Certainly, even Krasus could not imagine the tortures through which she had gone.

  But whatever sympathy he might have had for her on that one point, it did not in the least enable the dragon mage to condone all else she had done.

  "You could not imagine the agony of those times, the burning, the constant burning," she replied to his last comment. A hand Krasus only saw now was as burnt as the face touched the ruined cheek. "It still burns...."

  "And despite that, you still work to see his mad dream of a world cleansed of all but dragons loyal to his memory? Or should I say, dragons loyal only to you? Are you now to be Azeroth's new god—or goddess, I should say? Sintharia, mistress of a renewed black flight..."

  Her expression turned to one of disdain, but not for him. "You will refer to me as Sinestra, not Sintharia! I have shaken off that foul past! No new black flight will rule Azeroth! The black flight is dead, and no one shall mourn it less than me, Korialstrasz! Therenothing of it which I cherish, least of all my unlamented lord's memory or our ill-begotten children! They are all anathema to me— Onyxia, Nefarian, or any else who have managed to survive his foolish plans!" Sintharia—or Sinestra, Krasus corrected himself, thinking of her current form a separate one, as he did his own guise —laughed at his puzzled look. "Why should I care of the black flight... when I can birth into this world a far more worthy flight, a new breed of dragons who truly will become gods?"

  Krasus paused before answering. When he did speak, it was with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Yes—Sinestra—we have seen your results; for gods, they perish quite easily."

  "A first test, no more. If there was anything worthwhile in poor Nefarian's pathetic attempts in Blackrock Spire, it was the notion he had at the end—but was unable to follow sufficiently through on— that new magic, not merely blood and what he already could wield, was needed for a successor flight. New, unique magic. I have now found that magic..."

  "A nether dragon..."

  "Oh, very good. Korialstrasz..." she teased, continuing to use his true name despite her distaste for her own. The lady in black bent down so that her face was only inches from his own. "Very good... a pity we were never so close that we could have been more. Although you and I both know how strictly dragonflights keep to their own when.. .shall we say mingling'?... It is due more to tradition and prejudice than because it cannot be done between those of differing flights..." When he said nothing, she shrugged, then straightened again. "One way or another. I will have from you what I desire...."

  "How long have you been expecting me to come upon your dark deeds?"

  "How long? My dear Korialstrasz, I planned on it from the beginning! The red flight is the essence of life! What better to stimulate the creation of my perfect children than instill in them some of that?" Sinestra glanced at Kalec. "Actually, there is an answer to that question and you have kindly brought him to me! The essence of life and the essence of magic! I will be able to create gods now, thanks to the both of you...."

  The dragon mage shook his head. "You say you have come to hate Deathwing, but you must truly adore him to embrace his insanity so eagerly...."

  She gestured. Krasus groaned as what felt like a part of him seemed momentarily ripped away.

  Lady Sinestra lowered her hand. As he sat there, gasping, the female dragon calmly replied, "You have suffered pain for some time now as I worked to soften you for your capture and thus make it easier to draw from you what I need. You will suffer more, my dear Korlalstrasz, and there will be nothing you can do about it save beg me to be kind...."

  "This is—is not ended, Sinestra! As Nefarian fell victim to his obsession, so, too, shall—shall you!"

  "By your hand, perhaps? You know what floats above you, what you yourself have secretly employed despite a declaration by the Aspects that all traces of it be forever burled from the sight of all. You know that there is nothing you can do, for even though the forces it contained when whole have returned to those from which they were taken, the shards all still wield residue of that power."

  She turned to leave, dismissing him as if he were nothing— which, Krasus knew—might be the very truth.

  "Rest up now, dear Korialstrasz.... I shall have need of you and your friend before long...."

  And she left him sitting there, staring first at the entrance to his prison in the wake of her departure, then, finally at the tiny shard. It was true that he had played with dark magic in secreting that one other piece in his sanctum, defying even his beloved queen with his interest in it. Now, Krasus knew that, in a sense, he was in this dire strait because he had fallen victim to its seductive evil and had believed that he could control it, use it as a secret weapon againstthe enemy he had thought he faced.

  But not even the slightest fragment of the Demon Soul was without danger... and because of its vile nature and his own hubris, it was very possible that both he and Kalec would perish for the sake of Sinestra's madness....

  TWELVE

  The beautiful, sun-blond maiden smiled at Kalec, her arms beckoning to him. He reached for her, but each time he thought that their hands would touch, she seemed just a little more out of reach.

  Frustrated, Kalec charged toward her. Yet, although she clearly wanted him to come to her, he never quite made it.

  Anveena... he called, though his mouth did not open.

  Then, other figures materialized around her. A tall, noble-looking human male...whose skin was rotting. That ghost faded, becoming the shadow of a huge, skeletal dragon... a frost wyrm. Then, even that vanished, to be replaced by a high-elven figure wearing flamboyant albeit dark garments, including a wide-brimmed hat.

  Kalec pointed desperately behind her, trying to let her know of any of the fearsome shadows, but, especially this one.

  Anveena... itis Dar 'Khan! It's Dar 'Khan—

  "It's Dar'Khan!" he roared.

  "Kalec!" Krasus's voice cut through the remnants of his nightmare... enabling him to see that the waking world was no better.

  They were chained tight in an underground chamber that surely had to be part of Grim Batol. He glared at his companion. "So, once again, the great Korialstrasz has saved the world... or could I be mistaken?"

  The dragon mage showed no offense at his remarks, instead asking, "Do those dreams come often?"

  Kalec looked away, not wanting to discuss the matter. However, the other captive would not let it go.

  "How often do you dream of her, Kalec?"

  He whipped his head back to Krasus. "Every time I sleep or am unconscious for other reasons, such as now! Does that please you?"

  Krasus shook his head. "No."

  The younger male exhaled. "We're in Grim Batol, aren't we? Is it Deathwing who has us?"

  "No... It is Sintharia... or Sinestra, as she seems to prefer, since she wishes to claim no tie to her dread mate." The dragon mage went into detail on his encounter with Deathwing's consort.

  Much of Kalec's anger toward Krasus was pushed back as he listened in disbelief. He looked up at the tiny shard.

  "That is what keeps us so weak?"

  "That... and my little pet," came another voice.

  The pair looked at the entrance, where the blood elf who Krasus had said was called Zendarin now stood. Behind him in the corridor beyond was a shining mass of energy, an elemental that could only be a mageslayer. Yet, the blue, attuned to the many aspects of magic, immediately sensed that this was not an ordinary mageslayer, that much about it had been altered dramatically... and made the fiend a threat even to dragons.

  Kalec could sense that the elemental wanted to draw nearer, but Zendarin waved the creature farther back.

  "It's developed some interesting... tastes," the blood elf remarked. "There are points to it that now are reminiscent of a mana eater, fo
r instance."

  "What do you want?" Krasus asked.

  Zendarin grinned. "I want to be your friend...."

  Kalec snorted.

  "You don't believe me? I've learned several things recently, especially about the dear lady in black. I've a mind that you and I could see eye-to-eye on her in some regards...."

  "You play with your doom, Zendarin," the elder dragon returned, "and we will not play with you. Do you not think that she has always awaited your betrayal for your own desires?"

  "Of course, she does. That's what makes it more amusing."

  The prisoners glanced at one another. Kalec expected his companion to press the blood elf, but Krasus appeared not at all interested in pursuing the only path to escape they had.

  "What do you want of us?" Kalec finally asked.

  Zendarin waited for Krasus to say something, too, but when the elder dragon remained mute, the blood elf focused on the blue. "There will come a time, when she must be faced. I am mere blood elf. A dragon, though, would be far more able to stave her off for the moment needed...."

  "Needed for what?"

  "You are interested, then?"

  Kalec bared his teeth. "I would not be speaking with one of your kind if I was not, regardless of my current circumstances."

  Zendarin's gaze shifted to Krasus. "And what of him?"

  Again, the dragon mage remained silent, which infuriated Kalec. Did he think their options so unlimited that he could refuse to even play along with the blood elf?

  "He does not speak for me, nor I him," the blue snapped. "I am interested. That is as much as you need from me, yes?"

  "Two would be better than one. I give you some time to talk sense into your friend... but know that time is very short."

  With that, Zendarin slipped out again. The mageslayer did not follow immediately, lingering by the entrance as if still eager to come to them. Only when the blood elf called to it did it finally vanish.

  "They have made a minor evil into something far more treacherous," Krasus commented. "Thus is the way of Grim Batol. Evil not only flourishes here. It transforms...."

  "What was the matter with you? Why didn't you play along with him?"

  "The blood elf is too great a fool to even toy with, young one. His darkness is terrible, but hers dwarfs his a thousandfold. Even to barter with him risks us more than it is worth, trust me."

  Kalec glared. “I will never understand you. Do as you wish, then. If Zendarin comes back again, you can rot in your chains alone, staring at that damned shard until she drags you out and sacrifices you or whatever it is she wants."

  "She is making an abomination of a dragon, and we are to feed that creation with our lives...."

  "All the more reason to take what little possibility of escape we have... unless you've come up with some wonderful plan of your own?"

  The other's eyes narrowed. "'Wonderful,' I would not call it... nor even truly a 'plan'...but...but there may just be something I can do after all...."

  The younger dragon waited for more explanation, but Krasus merely turned his attention to the entrance... and stared.

  Me is here.... Korialstrasz is here....

  Sinestra savored the moment again. All her machinations were coming to fruition just as she had dreamed they would. Indeed, she had gained far more than expected, the blue male surely a gift of the fates.

  Deathwing's consort strode to the edge of the pit where her favored child rested. It was hungry, very hungry, but had learned finally to trust that it would be fed at the right time in the right manner.

  "A pity he could not have come sooner," Sinestra murmured to herself, "or the blue, also. It would have been best if their essences could have been fed into the egg. Now, they will enhance, but not be an integral part of the make-up." She made a tsking sound. "A pity, yes..."

  But there are other eggs, the voice in her head reminded her. The next ones will gain the benefit that this one did not! They will be even more mighty, a true legacy to the years of suffering....

  "Yes," she agreed out loud. "The next generation will outshine even Dargonax..."

  As she said the name, the creature in the pit stirred.

  "Hush, hush," the mad dragon murmured to it. "Rest, dear Dargonax, rest.... Supper will soon be ready."

  Silence settled over the pit again. Satisfied, Sinestra summoned a pair of skardyn.

  "Descend below. You know what I need. You will find me in the cavern of the nether dragon."

  They grunted understanding, then rushed off to fulfill her command.

  Sinestra peered into the black pit one more time, then headed for the cavern. Already, she could imagine what would happen with the next eggs, the magnificent children that would hatch from them.

  "At long last!" the black dragon breathed. "At long last..."

  The thing in the pit stirred again. It—he—had discovered long ago that if he pretended to be complacent, he learned much. This time, though, perhaps he had learned more than he desired.

  A future batch of eggs... new brothers and sisters. ..better brothers and sisters...

  Dargonax hissed.

  The dwarves and their two unlikely allies slipped toward Grim Batol. Vereesa it was who had insisted again that they head out, although Rom had convinced her to wait until the next night. In the daytime, the dwarves were too conspicuous a sight; the sentries would easily see them and there were also magical factors with which to deal.

  Iridi offered some hope against the latter problem. While it was true that the blood elf might detect her, she suspected that he did not understand the staff's powers to the depths that she did.

  "He has not had it long, surely only barely before he also captured the nether dragon," she explained to the others.

  The concept of the nether dragon was one that shocked both Vereesa and the dwarves. Even Iridi had no idea of their origins, only that they had suddenly arisen on Outland and, for a time, menaced her kind. Yet, from what she had gleaned, they had not been so much evil as confused. Even they had not understood what they were or how they had come into being.

  The nether dragon was still the focus of the priestess's quest. She had even tried to put the other staff out of her thoughts, concerned that some desire to avenge her friend would cause her not to think clearly when the time came. Yet, now Iridi understood that she had made a mistake, that she had only been trying to keep herself from understanding just how great was the peril facing her... and how insurmountable her quest might actually be.

  But before the band had left on its foray, Vereesa had promised her three things. One was that the nether dragon would be found. Whether to be freed or necessarily destroyed was a question that could only be answered once that happened.

  "It cannot be allowed to menace others, if that is its desire, draenei," the ranger had insisted. "Nor, as we all know, can it be used for whatever monstrous purposes they plan. We will free it if that proves a viable option, but we will not let this evil—as those two abominations you described surely must represent somehow— continue."

  The second of the three promises concerned the blood elf. In this, Vereesa was adamant. "Zendarin is mine. If you can claim the staff and return it to wherever you need to, so be it, but my cousin is mine."

  Third—and foremost—they had to find Krasus and Kalec. Not only for the sakes of the dragons themselves—assuming they still lived—but for the simple reason that the pair, especially the elder red, gave them their best hope of success...much less survival.

  The odds were not good, but Rom had made the best of it. "Won't be any worse than tryin' to take Grim Batol during the war! Least there ain't an army of orcs to watch for, either...."

  "No, but there are skardyn, dragonspawn, and drakonid," his second, Grenda, had remarked with her usual practicality.

  That had deterred them no more than anything else had. All the dwarves serving under Rom had journeyed here expecting to lay down their lives if necessary.

  Grim Batol was every bit as dir
e as Vereesa recalled it. With a shiver, she wished that Rhonin had come with her. However, in addition to his other duties, he was the only one of the two who could be with the children. They were being taken care of by Jalla, a stout midwife with six children of her own who was both like grandmother and second mother to the twins. However, she had no manner by which to protect them.

  Ipray we will all see one another after this, she thought to her husband and sons. But, if not, she would do all that she could to see that the menace of her cousin never threatened her family again.

  Too many of her family had been slain in the previous wars, and of her sister, Sylvanas, Vereesa had learned an even more monstrous fate. Those losses had been terrible enough, but then had come the rise of the blood elves. So many of her kind had turned from their traditions to that dark path, the withdrawals they had suffered after the Sunwell's destruction too much for them to bear. Vereesa recalled her own withdrawals and wondered if she would have joined them had not Rhonin been there to help her recuperate. And much later, when the feeling of loss had occasionally tried to return, the twins had also helped merely by being there for her to love.

  She had known Zendarin well when they had both been younger. He had always been ambitious, but in those days that ambition had been an honest one. He had wanted to rise up among his people, no matter how hard it was for any individual to move beyond their caste. As one who had also to a point not fit into the regimented mold of high elven society, Vereesa could appreciate his desire.

  But when he had turned to the way of the blood elf, all his ambition had focused on only one thing... to gather for himself more and more magic, both to satiate his insatiable appetite and to give him the might to take even more from others. Vereesa heardscattered word of his unseemly deeds, yet had not considered him her problem. As a blood elf, he was part of the Horde and the Alliance was always fighting the Horde. She had expected that sooner or later he would overstep himself and some wizard or paladin would put an end to him.