For the second time in the past few days, Rhonin awoke among the trees. This time, however, the face
of Vereesa did not greet him, which proved something of a disappointment. Instead, he awoke to a
darkening sky and complete silence. No birds sang in the forest, no animals moved among the foliage.
A sense of foreboding touched the wizard. Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his head, glanced around. Rhonin
saw trees and bushes, but nothing much more. No dragon, certainly, especially one so imposing and
treacherous as—
“Aaah, you are awake at last. . .
Deathwing?
Rhonin looked to his left—a place he had already surveyed earlier—and watched with trepidation as a
piece of the growing shadows around him detached, then coalesced into a hooded form reminiscent of
someone he knew.
“Krasus?” he muttered, a moment later realizing this could not be his faceless patron. What moved
before him wore the shadows with pride, lived as part of them.
No, he had been correct the first time.Deathwing.The shape mightseemhuman, but, if dragons could
possibly wear such forms, this could only be the black beast himself.
A face appeared under the hood, a man of dark, handsome, avian features. A noble face . . . at least on
the surface. “You are well?”
“I'm in one piece, thank you.”
The thin mouth jutted upward slightly at the edges in what almost would have been a smile. “You know
me, then, human?”
“You're . . . you're Deathwing the Destroyer.”
The shadows around the figure moved, faded a little. The face that almost passed for human, almost
passed for elf, grew slightly more distinct. The edges of the mouth jutted up a bit more. “One among
many of my titles, mage, and as accurate and inaccurate as any other.” He cocked his head to one side.
“I knew I chose well; you do not even seem surprised that I appear to you thus.”
“Your voice is the same. I could never forget it.”
“More astute than some you are, then, my mortal friend. There are those who would not know me even
if I transformed before their very eyes!” The figure chuckled. “If you would like proof, I could do that
even now!”
“Thank you—but, no.” The last vestiges of day began to fade behind the wizard's ominous rescuer.
Rhonin wondered how long he had been unconscious—and where Deathwing had brought him. Most of
all, he wondered why he still lived.
“What do you want of me?”
“I want nothing of you, Wizard Rhonin. Rather, I wish to helpyouin your quest.”
“My quest?” No one but Krasus and the Kirin Tor inner council knew of his true mission, and Rhonin
had already begun to wonder if even all of the latter knew. Master wizards could be secretive, with their
own hidden agendas set ahead of all others. Certainly, though, his present companion should have been
in the dark about such matters.
“Oh, yes, Rhonin, your quest.” Deathwing's smile suddenly stretched to a length not at all human, and the
teeth revealed in that smile were sharp, pointed. “To free the great Dragonqueen, the wondrous
Alexstrasza!”
Rhonin reacted instinctively, uncertain as to how the leviathan had learned of his true mission but still
confident that Deathwing had not been meant to discover it. Deathwing despised all beings, and that
included those dragons not of his ilk. No past tale in history had ever spoken of any love between this
great beast and the crimson queen.
The spell the wary mage suddenly utilized had served him well during the war. It had crushed the life out
of a charging orc with the blood of six knights and a fellow wizard on his meaty hands, and in a lesser
form had held one of the orc warlocks at bay while Rhonin had cast his ultimate spell. Against dragons,
however, Rhonin had no experience. The scrolls had insisted that it worked especially well at binding the
ancient behemoths. . . .
Rings of gold formed around Deathwing—
—and the shadowy figure walked right through them.
“Now, was thatreallynecessary?” An arm emerged from the cloak. Deathwing pointed.
A rock next to where Rhonin laysizzledmadly . . . then melted before his very eyes. The molten stone
dribbled into the ground, seeped into every crack, disappearing without a trace as rapidly as it had
melted in the first place. All in only scant seconds.
“This is what I could have done to you, wizard, if such had been my choice. Twice now your life is owed
to me; must I make it a third and final time?”
Rhonin wisely shook his head.
“Reason at last.” Deathwing approached, becoming more solid as he neared. He pointed again, this time
at the mage's other side. “Drink. You will find it most refreshing.”
Looking down, Rhonin discovered a wine sack sitting in the grass. Despite the fact that it had not been
there a few seconds before, he did not hesitate to pick it up, then sip from the spout. Not only had his
incredible thirst demanded it of him by this point, but the dragon might take his refusal as yet another act
of defiance. For the moment, Rhonin could do nothing but cooperate . . . and hope.
His ebony-clad companion moved again, briefly growing indistinct, almost insubstantial. That Deathwing,
let aloneanydragon, could take on human form distressed the wizard. Who could say what a creature
such as this could do among Rhonin's people? For that matter, how did the wizard know that Deathwing
had notalreadyspread his darkness through this very method?
And, if so, why would he now reveal such a secret to Rhonin—unless he intended to eventually silence
the mage?
“You know so little of us.”
Rhonin's eyes widened. Did Deathwing's powers include the ability to read another's thoughts?
The dragon settled near the human's left, seeming to sit upon some chair or massive rock that Rhonin
could not see behind the flowing robe. Under a widow's peak of pure night, unblinking sable eyes met
and defeated Rhonin's own gaze.
As the wizard looked away, Deathwing repeated his previous statement. “You know so little of us.”
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