One immediately formed behind him, a wellcushioned bench upon which the king of Lordaeron would
have happily slept. Krasus, too, intended to sleep well on it . . . perhaps forever.
He sat upon it, then raised the cup to his lips. Yet, before he could bring himself to drink what might be
his last, the dragon in human guise made one last toast.
“To you, my Alexstrasza,alwaysto you.”
* * *
“There was someone here, all right,” Vereesa muttered, studying the ground. “One of them was human .
. . the other I can't be certain about.”
“Pray tell, how do you know the difference?” asked Falstad, squinting. He could not tell one sign from
another. In fact, he could not evenseehalf of what the elf saw.
“Look here. This boot print.” She indicated a curved mark in the dirt. “These are human-style boots,
tightfitting and uncomfortable.”
“I'll take your word. And the other—the one you can't identify?”
The ranger straightened. “Well, clearly there are no signs of a dragon being around, but there are tracks
over here that match nothing I know.”
She knew that, once again, Falstad could not see what to her sharp eyes screamed out their curious
presence. The dwarf did his best, though, studying the peculiar striations in the earth. “You mean these,
my elven lady?”
The marks appeared to flow toward where the human—surelyRhonin—had at one time or another
stood. Yet, they were not footprints, not even pawprints. To her eyes, it looked as if something had
floated, dragging something else behind it.
“This gets us no closer than the first spot this little green beast brought us to!” Falstad seized Kryll by the
scruff of his neck. The goblin had both hands tied behind him and a rope around his waist, the other end
of which had been tied around the neck of the gryphon. Despite that, neither Vereesa nor the wild dwarf
trusted that their unwilling companion might not somehow escape. Falstad especially kept his eye on
Kryll. “Well? Now what? 'Tis becoming clear to me that you're leading us around! I doubt you've even
seen the wizard!”
“I have, I have, yes, I have!” Kryll smiled wide, possibly in the hope of swaying his captors, but a
goblin's toothy grin did little to impress those outside of their race. “Described him, didn't I? You know I
saw him, don't you?”
Vereesa noticed the gryphon sniffing at something hidden behind a bit of foliage. Using her sword, she
prodded at the spot, then dragged out the object in question.
On the tip of her sword hung a small, empty wine sack. The elf brought it to her nose. A heavenly
bouquet wafted past. The elf briefly closed her eyes.
Falstad misread her expression. “As bad as all that? Must be dwarven ale!”
“On the contrary, I have not come across such a fabulous aroma even at the table of my lord back in
Quel'Thalas! Whatever wine filled this sack far outshone even the best of his stock.”
“Which means to my feeble mind—?”
Dropping the sack, Vereesa shook her head. “I do not know, but somehow I cannot help thinking that it
means that Rhoninwashere, if only for a time.”
Her companion gave her a skeptical look. “My elven lady, is it possible that you simply wish it to be
true?”
“Can you answer me who else might have been in this region, drinking wine fit for kings?”
“Aye! The dark one, after he'd sucked the marrow from the bones of your wizard!”
His words made her shiver, but she remained steadfast in her belief. “No. If Deathwing brought him this
far, he had some other reason than as a repast!”
“Possible, I suppose.” Still holding onto the goblin, Falstad glanced up at the darkening sky. “If we hope
to get much farther before night, we'd best be getting on our way.”
Vereesa touched the tip of her blade against Kryll's throat. “We need to deal with this one first.”
“What's to deal with? Either we take him with us, or do the world a favor and leave it with one less
goblin to worry about!”
“No. I promised I would release him.”
The dwarf 's heavy brow furrowed. “I don't think that's wise.”
“Nevertheless, I made that promise.” She stared hard at him, knowing that if he understood elves as
much as he should, Falstad would see the sense in not pursuing this argument.
Sure enough, the gryphon-rider nodded—albeit with much reluctance. “Aye, 'tis as you say. You made
a promise and I'll not be the one to try to sway you.” Not quite under his breath, he added, “Not with
only one lifetime to me . . .”
Satisfied, Vereesa expertly cut the bonds around Kryll's wrists, then removed the loop from his waist.
The goblin fairly bounced around, so overjoyed did he seem by his release.
“Thank you, my benevolent mistress, thank you!”
The ranger turned the tip of the sword back toward the creature's throat. “Before you go, though, a few
last questions. Do you know the path to Grim Batol?”
Falstad did not take this question well. Brow arched, he muttered, “What're you thinking?”
She purposely ignored his question. “Well?”
Kryll's eyes had gone wide the moment she asked. The goblin looked ashen—or at least a paler shade
of green. “No one goes to Grim Batol, benevolent mistress! Orcs there and dragons, too! Dragons eat
goblins!”
“Answer my question.”
He swallowed, then finally bobbed his oversized head up and down. “Yes, mistress, I know the
way—do you think the wizard is there?”
“You can't be serious, Vereesa,” Falstad rumbled, so upset he had for once called her by name. “If your
Rhonin is in Grim Batol, then he's lost to us!”
“Perhaps . . . perhaps not. Falstad, I think he alwayswantedto reach that place, and not simply to
observe the orcs. I think he has some other reason . . . although what it could have to do with Deathwing,
I cannot say.”
“Maybe he plans on releasing the Dragonqueen singlehandedly!” the gryphon-rider returned with a snort
of derision. “He's a mage, after all, and everyone knows that they're allmad!”
An absolutely absurd notion—but for a moment it gave Vereesa pause. “No . . . it could not be that.”
Kryll, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to think really hard about something, something that did not at all
look to please him. At last, his face screwed up in an expression of distaste, he muttered, “Mistress
wants to go to Grim Batol?”
The ranger considered it. It went even beyond her oath, but she had to push forward. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Now see here, my—”
“You do not have to come with me if you do not want to, Falstad. I thank you for your aid thus far, but I
can proceed from here alone.”
The dwarf shook his head vehemently. “And leave you alone in the middle of orc territory with only this
untrustworthy little wretch? Nay, my elven lady! Falstad will not leave a fair damsel, however capable a
warrior she might also be, on her own! We go together!”
In truth, she appreciated his company here. “You may turn back at any time, though; remember that.”
“Only if you're with me.”
She glanced again at Kryll. “Well? Can you tell me the way?”
“Cannot tell you, mistress.” More and more the spindly creature's expression soured. “Best . . . best if I
show you, instead.”
This surprised her. “I granted you your freedom, Kryll—”
“For which this poor wretch is so eternally grateful, mistress . . . but only one path to Grim Batol offers
certainty, and without me,” he dared look slightly egotistical, “neither elf nor dwarf will find it.”
“We've got my mount, you little rodent! We'll simply fly over—”
0 Comments