the dragon guessed, at least in part. No such mistake occurred. Deathwing knew his way around the
orcs' sanctum as good as, if not better than, the bestial warriors themselves.
Finally, after what felt like hours more of traveling, the voice abruptly commanded,Cease.
Rhonin paused, although he had no clue as to what concerned Deathwing enough to demand this stop.
Wait.
A few moments later, voices from down the tunnel carried to the wizard.
“—where you were! I've questions for you, questions!”
“Most sorry, my grand commander, most sorry! It could not be helped! I—”
The voices faded away just as Rhonin strained to hear more. He knew one to be that of an orc,
evidently even that of the one in charge of the fortress, but the other speaker had been of quite a different
race. A goblin.
Deathwing made use of goblins. Could that be how he knew so much about this vast lair? Had one of
the goblins here also been serving the dark one?
He would have liked to have followed and heard more of the conversation, but the dragon suddenly
ordered him on again. Rhonin knew that if he did not obey, Deathwing might very well make him march.
At least while Rhonin had control of his limbs, he could still feel as if he had some choice in matters.
Crossing the tunnel down which the orc commander and the goblin had gone, Rhonin descended through
a deep tunnel toward what seemed the very bowels of the mountain. Surely now he had to be near the
Dragonqueen. In fact, he almost swore that he could hear the breathing of a giant, and since there were
no true giants in Grim Batol, that left only dragons.
Two corridors ahead. Turn right. Follow until you see the opening to your left.
Deathwing said no more. Rhonin again obeyed his instructions, quickening the pace as much as possible.
His nerves were on edge. How much longer would he have to wander through this mountain?
He turned right, followed the next passage on and on. From the dragon's simplistic instructions, Rhonin
had expected to come across the opening mentioned in fairly quick time, but even after what had to be
half an hour he had seen nothing, not even another intersection. Twice he had asked Deathwing if he
would soon arrive, but his unseen guide remained silent.
Then, just as the wizard felt ready to give up—he saw a light. A dim one, to be sure, but definitely a light
. . . and on the left side of the corridor.
Hopes renewed, Rhonin hurried toward it as quickly as he could without making much noise. For all he
knew, a dozen orcs stood guard around the Dragonqueen. He had spells ready, but hoped they could be
preserved for other, more desperate moments.
Halt!
Deathwing's voice reverberated through his head, nearly causing Rhonin to collide with the nearest wall
He flattened against it instead, certain that some sentinel had discovered him.
Nothing. The passage remained empty of any but himself.
“Why did you call out?” he whispered to the medallion.
Your destination lies before you . . . but the way may be guarded by more than flesh.
“Magic?” He had thought of that already, but the dragon had not given him any chance to carefully
check for himself.
And sentries of magical origin. There is a quick way to discover the truth. Hold out the medallion before
you as you move toward the entrance.
“What about guards of flesh and blood? I still have to worry about them.”
He could hear the dark one's growing irritation.All will be known, human. . . .
Certain that, at the very least, Deathwing wanted him to reach Alexstrasza, Rhonin held the medallion
before him and slowly edged forward.
I detect only minor spells—minor to one such as I, that is,the dragon informed him as he neared.I will
deal with them.
The black crystal suddenly flared, almost causing the startled mage to lose his hold.
The protective spells have been eradicated.A pause.There are no sentries inside. They would not need
them, even without magical spells. Alexstrasza is thoroughly chained and bolted to her surroundings. The
orcs have been quite efficient. She is completely secure.
“I should go in?”
I would be disappointed if you did not.
Rhonin found Deathwing's phrasing slightly curious, but did not think long on it, more concerned with the
hope of at last facing the Dragonqueen. He wished Vereesa could have been here now, then wondered
why that would so please him. Perhaps—
Even thoughts of the silvery-tressed elf faded as he stepped into the entranceway and beheld for the first
time the gargantuan red behemothAlexstrasza.
And found her staring back, an emotion in her reptilian eyes that seemed to him akin to fear—but not for
herself.
“No!” she rumbled as best as the brace around her throat enabled her.“Step back!”
At the same time, Deathwing's voice, its tone triumphant, uttered,Perfect!
A flash of light surrounded the wizard. Every fiber of his being shook as some monstrous force ripped
through him. The medallion slipped from his suddenly limp fingers.
As he collapsed, he heard Deathwing repeat the single word, laughing afterward.
Perfect. . . .
0 Comments