World of Warcraft 08 by Night of the Dragon

Author:Night of the Dragon [Dragon, Night of the]
Language: pol
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Mine,” the drakonid declared. He hefted Rhonin’s creation. “Good balance…” To the other guards, Rask ordered, “To the lower pits. The mistress commands….”

They had wanted to slip into the depths of Grim Batol and their wish would now be granted,

albeit not in the least as they had hoped. Vereesa both cursed and marveled at the power of this mysterious mistress of whom the drakonid had spoken. The appearance of the fiery minions

certainly gave credence to a black dragon being involved. Was it then Onyxia, the daughter of

Deathwing? Surely not, for Rhonin had once mentioned information gathered from other

sources that all but verified that the female black was no more. Yet, what other dragon could

command this ebony drakonid and his dragonspawn cohorts? Rask had definitely said

“mistress,” which ruled out either a surviving Deathwing or Nefarian.

Father, son, daughter…

Where was the mother in all this?

Suddenly the ranger wished that she had not aided in the decision to surrender. In her mind,

Vereesa could imagine only that one of Deathwing’s consorts lurked in Grim Batol and of his

consorts only the name Sintharia came to mind.

She had convinced the dwarves to turn themselves over to the mercy of the mate of the mad

Earth-Warder.

Vereesa surreptitiously reached for a dagger hidden under her breastplate. With only living foes with which to deal, she hoped that if she caused a distraction, some of the prisoners stood at

least a modicum of a chance of escaping—

The point of her own sword came much too near her throat. The heat from the burning weapon

left her sweating.

“The dagger or your head,” Rask chuckled, “one or other drops…”

The ranger let the dagger fall. A skardyn scooped it up, then wisely handed it to the drakonid.

“Wise,” Rask said, sheathing the weapon in a belt around his scaled waist.

The prisoners were ushered into the mouth of the cave.

But above watched one attacker that the drakonid had missed. Iridi could do nothing for

Vereesa and the others, although she had nearly climbed down to try. In the end, however, the

draenei had determined that she could better help

her friends in the long run by not helping them now.

The priestess looked around. Farther up, another opening beckoned. It would require a

precarious climb, but it was her best chance of entering the mount.

With the staff dismissed, Iridi crawled like a spider up the rock face. She had no illusions as to her chances; what confronted them was a powerful thing of evil, even more so than the blood

elf, whose own dark deeds were even greater in number than she had imagined. Yet, it was

now all up to her. That was something that she had sensed from the beginning of her journey,

that there would come a point when she would be called upon to make the crucial decision or

act, upon which all else would be decided. This had to be that moment.

Krasus, Kalec, Vereesa, and the dwarves were all prisoners. It made perfect sense to her that

she should choose one or more to locate and immediately free. As the ranger herself had

indicated, Krasus was likely the best choice of all those.

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