sights within his mind.
Hills grew higher, more menacing, at last becoming the first mountains. Even then, the vision did not
slow, not until it suddenly fixed on one peak in particular, one which drew the wizard despite his
hesitations.
At the base of that peak, Rhonin's view shifted skyward with such abruptness that he nearly lost all sense
of equilibrium. The vision climbed the great peak, always showing areas that the wizard realized
contained ledges or handholds. Up and up it went, until at last it reached a narrow cave mouth—
—and ended as abruptly as it had begun, leaving a shaken Rhonin once more standing amidst the
foliage.
There is the path, the only path that will enable you to achieve our goal. . . .
“But that route will take longer, and go through more precarious regions!” He did not even want to think
of climbing that mountainside. What seemed a simple route for a dragon looked most treacherous to a
human, even one gifted with the power of magic.
You will be aided. I did not say you would have to walk the entire way. . . .
“But—”
It is time for you to begin,the voice insisted.
Rhonin started walking . . . or rather, Rhonin'slegsstarted walking.
The effect lasted only seconds, but it proved sufficient to urge the wizard on. As his limbs returned to his
own use, Rhonin pressed forward, unwilling to suffer through a second lesson. Deathwing had shown him
quite easily how powerful the link between them was.
The dragon did not speak again, but Rhonin knew that Deathwing lurked somewhere in the recesses of
his mind. Yet for all the black leviathan's power, he seemed not to have total control over Rhonin. At the
very least, Rhonin's thoughts appeared to be hidden from his draconic ally's inspection. Otherwise,
Deathwing would not have been pleased with the wizard at this very moment, for Rhonin already worked
to find a way to extricate himself from the dragon's influence.
Curious. Last night he had been more than willing to believe most of what Deathwing had told him, even
the part concerning the black's desire to rescue Alexstrasza. Now, however, a sense of reality had set in.
Surely of all creatures Deathwing least desired to see his greatest rival free. Had he not sought the
destruction of her kind throughout the war?
Yet he recalled also that Deathwing had answered that question, too, very late in their conversation.
“The children of Alexstrasza have been raised by the orcs, human. They have been turned against all
other creatures. Her freedom would not change what they have become. They would still serve their
masters. I slay them because there is no other choice—you understand?”
And Rhoninhadunderstood at the time. Everything the dragon had told him the night before had rung so
true—but in the light of day the wizard now questioned the depths of those truths. Deathwing might have
meant all he said, yet that did not mean that he did not have other, darker reasons for what he did
Rhonin contemplated removing the medallion and simply throwing it away. However, to do so would
certainly draw his unwanted ally's attention, and it would be so very simple for Deathwing to locate him.
The dragon had already proven just how swift he could be. Rhonin also doubted that, if Deathwing had
to come for him again, the armored behemoth would do so as comrade.
For now, all he could do was continue on along the selected path. It occurred to Rhonin that he carried
no supplies, not even a water sack, those items now in the sea along with the hapless Molok and their
gryphon. Deathwing had not even seen fit to provide him with anything, the food and drink the dragon
had given him last night apparently all the sustenance the wizard would receive.
Unperturbed, Rhonin pushed on. Deathwing wanted him to reach the mountain, and with this the mage
agreed. Somehow, Rhonin would make it there.
As he climbed along the ever more treacherous terrain, his thoughts could not help but return to
Vereesa. The elf had shown a tenacious dedication to her duty, but surely now she had turned back . . .
providing that she, too, had survived the attack. The notion that the ranger might not have survived
formed a sudden lump in Rhonin's throat and caused him to stumble. No, surely she had survived, and
common sense had dictated that she return to Lordaeron and her own kind.
Surely so . . .
Rhonin paused, suddenly filled with the urge to turn around. He had the great suspicion that Vereesa had
not followed common sense, but rather had insisted on going on, possibly even convincing the
unconvincible Falstad into flying her toward Grim Batol. Even now, assuming nothing else had befallen
her, Vereesa might well be on his trail, slowly closing in on him.
The wizard took a step toward the west—
Human . . .
Rhonin bit back a curse as Deathwing's voice filled his head. How had the dragon known so quickly?
Could he read the mage's thoughts after all?
Human . . . it is time you refreshed yourself and ate. . . .
“What—what do you mean?”
You paused. You were looking for water and food, were you not?
“Yes.” No sense telling the dragon the truth.
You are but a short distance from such. Turn east again and journey a few minutes more. I will guide
you.
His opportunity lost, Rhonin obeyed. Stumbling along the jagged path, he gradually came to a small
patch of trees in the middle of nowhere. Amazing how even in the worst stretches of Khaz Modan life
thrust forth. For the shade alone Rhonin actually gave thanks to his undesired ally.
In the center of the copse will you find what you desire. . . .
Notallhe desired, although the wizard could not tell Deathwing that. Nonetheless, he moved with some
eagerness. More and more, food and water appealed to him. A few minutes' rest would certainly help,
too.
The trees were short for their kind, only twelve feet in height, but they offered good shade. Rhonin
entered the copse and immediately looked around. Surely there had to be a brook here and possibly
some fruit. What other repast could Deathwing offer from a distance?
Afeast,apparently. There, in the very center of the wooded area, sat a small display of food and drink
such as Rhonin could not have imagined finding. Roasted rabbit, fresh bread, cut fruit, and—he touched
the flask with some awe—chilled water.
Eat,murmured the voice of the dragon.
Rhonin obeyed with gusto, digging into the meal. The rabbit had been freshly cooked and seasoned to
perfection; the bread retained the pleasant scent of the oven. Foregoing manners, he drank directly from
the flask . . . and discovered that, although the container should have been halfempty after that, it
remained full. Thereafter, Rhonin drank his fill without concern, knowing that Deathwing wanted him well
. . . if only until the wizard reached the mountain.
With his magic he could have conjured something of his own, but that would have drawn strength from
him that he might need for more drastic times. In addition, Rhonin doubted that even he could have
created such a repast, at least not without much effort.
Sooner than he hoped, Deathwing's voice came again.You are satiated?
“Yes . . . yes, I am. Thank you.”
It is time to move on. You know the way.
Rhonin did know the way. In fact, he could picture the entire route the dragon had shown him.
Deathwing had apparently wanted to make certain that his pawn did not wander off in the wrong
direction.
With no other choice, the wizard obeyed. He paused only long enough to take one more glance behind
him, hoping against hope that he might see the familiar silver hair even in the distance, and yet also
wanting neither Vereesa nor even Falstad to follow him. Duncan and Molok had already perished
because of his quest; too many deaths weighed now on Rhonin's shoulders.
The day aged. With the sun having descended nearly to the horizon, Rhonin began questioning
Deathwing's path. Not once had he seen, much less confronted an orc sentry, and surely Grim Batol still
had those. In fact, he had not even seen a single dragon. Either they no longer patrolled the skies here or
the wizard had wandered so far afield that he had gone outside their range.
The sun sank lower. Even a second meal, apparently magicked into being by Deathwing, did not
assuage Rhonin. As the last light of day disappeared, he paused and tried to make out the landscape
ahead. So far, the only mountains he could see stood much too far away in the distance. It would take
him several days just to reach them, much less the peak where the orcs kept the dragons.
Well, Deathwing had brought him to this point; Deathwing could explain now how he thought the human
could possibly reach his destination.
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