Richard Knaak: The Well of Eternity

But it was more than the veteran’s name that garnered the respect of the Warchief and made him Thrall’s choice. Thrall knew that Brox was like him, a warrior who fought with his head as well as his arm. The orc leader could not send an army into the mountains. He needed to trust the search to one or two skilled fighters who could then report their findings to him.

Gaskal was chosen to accompany Brox because of his swiftness and absolute obedience to orders. The younger orc was part of the new generation that would grow up in relative peace with the other races. Brox was glad to have the able fighter at his side.

The shaman had so perfectly described the route through the mountains that the pair were well ahead of the estimated time the trek should have taken. By Brox’s reckoning, their goal lay just beyond the next ridge…exactly where the dragon and rider had vanished.

Brox’s grip on his hammer tightened. The orcs had agreed to peace, but he and Gaskal would fight if need be, even if it meant their certain deaths.

The older warrior forced away the grim smile that nearly played across his face at the last thought. Yes, he would be willing to fight to the death. What Thrall had not known when he summoned the war hero to him had been that Brox suffered from terrible guilt, guilt that had eaten at his soul since that day in the pass.

They had all perished, all but Brox, and he could not understand that. He felt guilty for being alive, for not dying valiantly with his comrades. To him, his still being alive was a matter of shame, of failure to give his all as they had done. Since that time, he had waited and hoped for some opportunity to redeem himself. Redeem himself…and die.

Now, perhaps, the fates had granted him that.

“Get a move on!” he ordered Gaskal. “We can reach ’em before they get settled in!” Now he allowed himself a wide grin, one that his companion would read as typical orc enthusiasm. “And if they give us any trouble…we’ll make ’em think the entire Horde is on the rampage again!”

If the island upon which they had landed seemed a dire place, the mountain pass in which they now descended simply felt wrong. That was the best word Rhonin could use to describe the sensations flowing through him. Whatever they sought…it should not be. It was as if the very fabric of reality had made some terrible error…

The intensity of the feeling was such that the wizard, who had faced every conceivable nightmare, wanted the dragon to turn back. He said nothing, though, recalling how he had already revealed his uncertainties on the island. Korialstrasz might already regret summoning him.

The crimson behemoth arched his wings as he dropped the final distance. His massive paws sank into the snow as he sought a stable landing area.

Rhonin clutched the dragon’s neck tightly. He felt every vibration and hoped his grip would last. His pack bounced against his back, pummeling him.

At last, Korialstrasz came to a halt. The reptilian visage turned the wizard’s way. “Are you well?”

“As well—as well as I could be!” gasped Rhonin. He had made dragon flights before, but not for so long.

Either Korialstrasz knew his passenger was still weary or the dragon himself also needed rest after such a monumental trek. “We shall remain here for a few hours. Gather our strength. I sense no change in the emanations I feel. We should have the time to recoup. It would be the wisest choice.”

“I won’t be arguing with you,” Rhonin answered, sliding off.

The wind blew harshly through the mountains and the high peaks left much shadow, but with the aid of some magic and an overhang, the wizard managed to keep warm enough. While he tried to stretch the kinks out of his body, Korialstrasz strode along the pass, scouting the area. The behemoth vanished some distance ahead as the path curved.

Hood draping his head, Rhonin dozed. This time, his thoughts filled with good images…true images of Vereesa and the upcoming birth. The wizard smiled, thinking of his return.

He woke at the sound of approach. To Rhonin’s surprise, it was not the dragon Korialstrasz who returned to him, but rather the cowled, robed figure of Krasus.

In response to the human’s widening eyes, the dragon mage explained, “There are several unstable areas nearby. This form is less likely to cause them to collapse. I can always transform again should the need arise.”

“Did you find anything?”

The not-quite-elven face pursed. “I sense the Aspect of Time. He is here and yet he is not. I am disturbed by that.”

“Should we start—”

But before Rhonin could finish, a horrific yowl echoed harshly through the mountain chain. The sound set every nerve of the wizard on edge. Even Krasus looked perturbed.

“What was that?” asked Rhonin.

“I do not know.” The dragon mage drew himself up. “We should move on. Our goal lies not far away.”

“We’re not flying?”

“I sense that what we seek lies within a narrow passage between the next mountains. A dragon would not fit, but two small travelers would.”

With Krasus leading, the pair headed northeast. Rhonin’s companion appeared unbothered by the cold, though the human had to enhance the protective spell on his clothes. Even then, he felt the chill of the land upon his face and fingers.

Before long, they came upon the beginning of the passage Krasus had mentioned. Rhonin saw now what the other meant. The passage was little more than a cramped corridor. Half a dozen men could walk side-by-side through it without feeling constricted, but a dragon attempting to enter would have barely been able to get its head in, much less its gargantuan body. The high, steep sides also created even thicker shadows, making Rhonin wonder if the two might need to create some sort of illumination along the way.

Krasus pressed on without hesitation, certain of their path. He moved faster and faster, almost as if possessed.

The wind howled even harder through the natural corridor, its intensity building as they journeyed. Only human, Rhonin had to struggle to keep pace with his former patron.

“Are we almost there?” he finally called.

“Soon. It lies only—” Krasus paused.

“What is it?”

The dragon mage focused inwardly, frowning. “It is not—it is not exactly where it should be anymore.”

“It moved ?”

“That would be my assumption.”

“Is it supposed to do that?” the fiery-haired wizard asked, squinting down the dark path ahead.

“You are under the misconception that I know perfectly what to expect, Rhonin. I understand little more than you.”

That did not at all please the human. “So what do you suggest we do?”

The eyes of the inhuman mage literally flared as he contemplated the question. “We go on. That is all we can do.”

But only a short distance ahead, they came across a new obstacle of sorts, one that Krasus had been unable to foresee from high up in the air. The passage split off in two directions and while it was possible that they merged further on, the pair could not assume that.

Krasus eyed both paths. “They each run near to our goal, but I cannot sense which lies closer. We need to investigate both.”

“Do we separate?”

“I would prefer not to, but we must. We will each journey five hundred paces in, then turn back and meet here. Hopefully we will then have a better sense of which to take.”

Taking the corridor to the left, Rhonin followed Krasus’s instructions. As he rapidly counted off paces, he soon determined that his choice had potential. Not only did it greatly widen ahead, but the wizard thought he sensed the disturbance better than ever. While Krasus’s abilities were more acute than his, even a novice could sense the wrongness that now pervaded the region beyond.