Richard Knaak - Night of the Dragon

"Those reptiles." Iridi called as they ran. "Does this often happen?"

"You mean this mayhem? Nay! But somethin's got the lizards all riled up enough to flee their own haunts and try to take ours! Swear they'd even go for the ships if they had the brains to sail 'em!"

The priestess was not so certain that the raptors were not capable of doing just that, but she held her peace. "So they attack you out of fear of some other threat?"

Garthin chuckled, though there was no humor in the action. "Fortunate for us, eh? Aye, they started coming a few days back. First a couple, then more, and now, suddenly, this huge lot!"

"Will you have to abandon Menethil Harbor?"

He let out a defiant grunt. "Only when we're dead... Hah! Here it is!"

They stood before a rock that only the draenei's excellent night vision enabled her to make out. It was roughly the girth of the dwarf, but she saw nothing else remarkable about it.

"Keep an eye out," Garthin commanded.

As she obeyed, he planted one shoulder against the rock. With tremendous effort, Garthin began shoving it aside.

Iridi kept watch the struggle, which had turned into a stalemate, but also glanced back at both her companion's efforts and the misty Wetlands. Her mind raced as she decided her best choice.

"Here!" the dwarf declared triumphantly. The priestess looked down to discover a hole underneath the rock. It was large and obviously the work of skilled hands... dwarven hands.

She Instantly knew what it was for. "It leads into the town?"

"Aye, into or out of it, depending on circumstances! No raptor'll fit in it, assuming that they could ever find it in the first place. There's a way to cover it back up once we're inside... or rather, once you're inside! Climb in."

But Iridi had already made up her mind. She put a gentle hand on her protector's shoulder. "I am sorry, Garthin."

"About wha—"

He slumped forward, her fingers having touched the right nerve in his neck to make him temporarily unconscious. The draenei immediately hefted his dense form into the safety hole, then slipped the ax in after. Once assured that Garthin would be all right, the priestess inspected the stone. Unlike the dwarf, Iridi moved it back using not so much strength, but rather a sense of balance and direction.

That done, she returned her attention to the fight. Guilt over abandoning the brave dwarves swept over her, and she started toward the bridge. However, at that moment, more figures came charging from the town, while from above, well-aimed bolts began falling upon the raptors. The tide began to turn.

Iridi thanked the naaru for her sudden luck. There was no sign of her staff, but that was not a significant problem at this point. It would be there for her when she needed it.

She headed Into the Wetlands, seeking the trail by which the raptors had journeyed from their old grounds. Trace back the reptiles' flight and she was certain that she would find that for which she had been searching.

Or it would find her.

A massive, winged form flew through the night over land and sea. It flew with a manic determination that only partially had to do with its mission. Its mind was in turmoil, the result of other events stretching across much of the breadth of the world of Azeroth. Indeed, the mission it was upon was, in some ways, a relief... though it also added new burdens.

The shrouded sky rumbled, threatening a powerful storm. The huge flyer immediately darted upward, passing through clouds and rising up to where the moon shone down upon the darkening cloud cover.

Fatigue already touched the flyer, but it pushed on. It had a certain location in mind before it could rest and would reach it no matter how much the struggle. The vast, webbed wings beat harder, enabling the flyer to cut the miles as if they were nothing... which indeed they were to this particular dragon.

The storm stirred to waking below, but above there was only the dragon and moon. The former ignored the latter utterly, though its light well-illumlnated the scaled behemoth's path, not to mention the behemoth itself.

And in that light, the dragon's scales shone almost as bright as the moon... if the moon were blue.

Korialstrasz awoke to the realization that he had been asleep.

It was not what he should have been doing.

His second discovery was that he no longer wore his true form, but was shaped and clad as Krasus.

And as Krasus, he slowly registered his surroundings, a ragged cave perched on the side of a desolate hill overlooking a swampy region. Krasus knew immediately where he was, though how he had gotten here was still a lost memory.

The Wetlands were near his goal, but not exactly on his original path. The dragon mage stumbled toward the cave's edge, then studied the sky. It gave him no clue as to his coming here.

The last thing that he recalled, he had been using what little strength he had to reach the shore. It had been his intention to find a secluded area, then settle down for a short rest.

From there, Krasus had no idea what had happened... and that was a rare instance for him. He did not like being at a loss, especially under the circumstances. In addition, Krasus had no idea exactly how long he had been asleep. A dragon could sleep for minutes, hours, days, weeks... It all depended upon circumstances.

This trek has been a troublesome one from the first breath on. That cannot be coincidence. He glared at his surroundings, momentarily blaming them for his state.

Then, drawing himself together, Krasus pushed aside his frustrations. If there was a reason for his unnatural slumber, he would likely learn it soon enough. What mattered was that he was so verynear his destination.

So very near Grim Batol.

Krasus began the transformation to Korialstrasz... then hesitated. A dragon was a hard thing to miss, even by the blind. He had a better chance of encroaching on the dread mountain if he remained as he was. Indeed, that had been his likely intention when first he had left his sanctum, but his disturbing sleep had momentarily made him forget. Perhaps he had even transformed into his smaller form for that reason...

"So it shall be, then." Krasus eyed the hillside, seeking a path down. If he hoped to remain hidden from those watching for magical beings such as himself, it behooved him to use only enough of his power to shield his presence. Besides, his current physical form was not adverse to hard effort.

Gloved hands took hold of the rocky hillside as he cautiously lowered himself down into the Wetlands. The difference in the climate became noticeable almost immediately; the land below was far more humid. Fortunately, though he resembled an elf—albeit a very pale one—Krasus had a red dragon's adaptability to heat. The Wetlands bothered him not in the least; the caverns of his flight were far more comfortably hot and, depending on the location, much more moist.

The cries of Wetlands life were oddly muted as Krasus stepped onto the soft, wet soil. In general, a place such as this was teeming with animals and insects eager to vocalize their presence. However, though he heard some of both groups, there should have been much more activity.

It was as if much of the life here was wary of imminent threat... something that Krasus also felt.

But nothing reared its ugly head nor attacked him with vile magic. Krasus journeyed deeper into the swampy region, heading on a path directly toward Grim Batol.

The lush growth quickly enveloped him, but as Krasus shoved vines from his face, he noted something about that plant life. It had an ill feeling to it. Outwardly, it appeared normal, but inside, there was a sense that something had become twisted, that the Wetlands were changing for the worst.