“Not yet! More questions later for this one . . . maybe! You know where to put him! I'll come right after
to make certain that even his magic won't help him!”
The two massive orcs holding onto Rhonin pulled him forward with such vigorous force that he thought
that they would wrench his arms from the shoulder sockets. Through somewhat blurred vision, he caught
a glimpse of Nekros turning to another orc.
“Double the work! Get the wagons ready! I'll deal with the queen! I want everything prepared!”
Nekros passed from Rhonin's field of vision—and another figure entered.
The goblin that the orc had called Kryll winked at Rhonin, as if both shared a secret. When the wizard
opened his mouth, the malevolent little figure shook his oversized head and smiled. In his hands, the
goblin clutched something tight, something that drew the human's attention.
Kryll slid one hand back just long enough for Rhonin to see what he carried.
Deathwing's medallion.
And as the guards dragged him out of the commander's chamber, it came to the worn mage that he now
knew how Deathwing had garnered so much information about Grim Batol. He also knew that, whatever
Nekros planned, the orc, like Rhonin, did exactly as the black dragonwanted.
Although at home in the forests and hills, Vereesa had to admit that, when it came to the underworld, she
could not tell one tunnel from another. Her innate sense of direction seemed to fail her—either that or the
fact that she had to continually duck distracted her too much. Even though trolls used these tunnels from
time to time, most had been hewed out by dwarves in the days when the region around Grim Batol had
served as part of a complex mining community. That meant that Rom, Gimmel, and even Falstad had little
difficulty navigating them, but the tall elf had to walk bent over much of the time. Her back and legs
ached, but she gritted her teeth, unwilling to show any sign of weakness among these hardy warriors.
After all, Vereesa had been the one who had insisted on coming here in the first place.
Yet she finally had to ask, “Are we almost near?”
“Soon, very soon,” replied Rom. Unfortunately, he had been saying that for some time now.
“This entrance,” Falstad mused. “Where's it again?”
“The tunnel comes out in what used to be a transport point for the gold we mined. Ye may even see a
few old tracks, if the orcs haven't melted them all down for weaponry.”
“And in this way we can get inside?”
“Aye, ye can follow back along the old path even if the tracks're gone. They've some guards there,
though, so it won't be easy.”
Vereesa thought this over. “You mentioned dragons, too. How far above?”
“Not dragons in the sky, Lady Vereesa, but ones on the ground. That's where it gets tricky, ye might say.”
“On the ground?” snorted Falstad.
“Aye, ones with damaged wings or too untrusted to let fly. Should be two on this side of the mountain.”
“On the ground . . .” the dwarf from the Aerie muttered. “Be a different sort of battle . . .”
Rom suddenly paused, pointing ahead. “There 'tis, Lady Vereesa! The opening!”
The ranger squinted but even with her exceptional night vision, she could not make out the supposed
opening.
Falstad apparently did. “Awful small. Be a tight fit.”
“Aye, too tight for orcs and they think too tight for us, but there's a trick to it.”
Still unable to see anything, Vereesa had to satisfy herself with following the dwarves. Only when they
had nearly reached what seemed a dead end did she begin to notice a little bit of light filtering in from
above. Stepping closer, the frustrated elf noticed a slit barely big enough to fit her sword through, much
less her body.
She glanced down at the leader of the hill dwarves. “A trick to it, you say?”
“Aye! The trick is that ye must move these rocks here, carefully set by us, in order to open the gap big
enough, but ye can't reach them from the outside! From there it looks to be all one rock, and it'd take the
orcs powerful more time than they'd like to do the job!”
“They know you are underground, though, do they not?”
Rom's expression grew dour. “Aye, but with the dragons about, they fear little from us. The way ye must
go to get inside is a dangerous one. That must be evident to ye. It frustrates us to be so close and yet be
unable to rid ourselves of these cursed invaders. . . .”
For some reason she could not fathom, Vereesa sensed that the dwarven leader had not told her
everything. What he had said might be true to some extent, but for some other reason his people had not
made much use of this route. Had something happened in the past to make them shy away from it, or
was it truly that dangerous out there?
If the latter, did the elf really want to take the risk?
She had already committed herself. If not for Rhonin, then for whatever she might do to help end this
interminable war—although Vereesa still held out hope that somehow she might find the wizard alive.
“We should get started. Is there a certain pattern needed when removing the rocks from their positions?”
Rom blinked. “Lady elf, ye must wait until dark! Any sooner and ye will be sighted, sure as I stand
before ye!”
“But we cannot wait that long!” Vereesa had no idea how many hours had passed since she and Falstad
had been captured by the trolls, but surely only a few hours at most.
Tis only an hour and a little more, Lady Vereesa! Surely that's worth ye life!”
That little of a wait? The ranger eyed Falstad.
“You were out for a very long time,” he replied to her unspoken question. “For a while, I thought you
dead.”
The elf tried to calm herself down. “Very well. We can wait until then.”
“Good!” The leader of the hill dwarves clapped his hands together. “That'll give us time to eat and rest!”
Although at first Vereesa felt too tense to even consider food, she accepted the simple fare that Gimmel
offered her a few minutes later. That these struggling souls would share what little they had spoke of the
depths of their compassion and camaraderie. Had the dwarves wanted to, they could have very well slain
Falstad and her after having dealt with the trolls. No one outside of their group would have ever been the
wiser.
Gimmel took charge of seeing to it that everyone shared equally in the provisions. Rom, after taking his
portion, slowly wandered off, saying that he wished to inspect some of the side tunnels they had passed
earlier for any sign of troll activity.
Falstad ate with gusto, seemingly enthused by the taste of the dried meat and fruit. Vereesa ate with less
enthusiasm, dwarven fare not famous for its succulent taste in either the elven or human realms. She
understood that they cured the meat in order to better preserve it, and even marveled that someone had
found or grown fruit in this dismal land, but her more sensitive taste buds even now complained to her.
However, the food was filling, and the ranger knew that she would need the energy.
After finishing her fare, Vereesa rose and looked around. Falstad and the other dwarves had settled in to
relax, but the impatient elf needed to walk. She grimaced, thinking again how her instructor would have
called her so human right now. Most elves early on outgrew their tendencies toward impatience, but
some retained that trait for the rest of their lives. Those generally ended up either living beyond the
homeland or taking on tasks that let them travel extensively in the name of their people. Perhaps, if she
lived through this, she might choose one of those paths, maybe even visit Dalaran.
Fortunately for Vereesa, the tunnels here had been carved out somewhat higher than many of those
through which she had earlier passed. For the most part, the elf managed to traverse the rocky corridors
with minimal bending, even occasionally standing unhindered.
A muffled voice some distance ahead suddenly made her halt. The ranger had journeyed farther than she
had intended, enough so that she might have very well dropped herself right into troll territory. With
tremendous care so as not to make a sound, Vereesa drew her blade, then inched forward.
The voice did not sound like that of a troll. In fact, the nearer she moved, the more it seemed to her that
she knew the speaker—but how?
“—couldn't be helped, great one! Didn't think ye wanted them to know about ye!” A pause. “Aye, an elf
ranger fair of face and form, that's her.” Another pause. “The other? A wild one from the Aerie. Said his
mount escaped when the trolls took 'em.”
Try as she might, Vereesa could not hear the other half of the conversation, but she at least knew who
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