Authors: Richard A. Knaak
Perching on a squat mountain, Korialstrasz quickly imagined Krasus. For good measure, he touched with one claw the scale that his older self had traded to him. So much made more sense now; he had wondered why the exchange should aid the pair so well. By doing so, the two halves of himself had become more complete. Korialstrasz still suffered some pain and weariness, but nowhere near what he had before that event.
He put all his concentration into finding Krasus, seeking that link that only two who were one could possibly have. The dragon doubted that his other half was still near, for if it had been him—and it was—Korialstrasz would have continued seeking some way to enter. He would not have gone into hiding. Therefore, circumstances had demanded that Krasus flee.
Trying not to think of just what might have forced his elder form to abandon the area of the barrier, the red reached out. Only a dragon’s will could encompass the expanse that Korialstrasz’s did now. Over countless lands his mind stretched, hunting that which was him.
But his patience soon frayed as nowhere did he sense himself. It should have been a relatively simple task. Had some dire fate befallen Krasus? The very thought sent shivers through Korialstrasz. No creature yearned to discover his ultimate fate.
But then, as if abruptly reborn, the dragon sensed the familiar presence. He could not detect the exact location, but knew which direction he should at least fly.
Korialstrasz immediately launched into the air, flapping as hard as he could. The sooner he retrieved his other self, the sooner he could feel secure once more.
Krasus became his utter focus. His surroundings blurred. With his huge wings, he ate away at the miles, but, even still, he felt it much too slow.
So obsessed, Korialstrasz did not know that he was under attack until the claws tore into his back.
With a startled roar, he rolled in the air, taking his attacker by surprise. The monstrous visage of a black dragon filled his gaze.
“Stop!” the red shouted. “By the glory of the Aspects, I demand that you—”
In response, the other dragon opened his mouth.
Korialstrasz ceased flapping, his huge body immediately dropping like a rock. It was the only thing that saved him from a fearsome burst of molten flame. The searing heat shot just past his head, making his eyes tear.
Pain wracked Korialstrasz where the other’s claws had torn through scale. Although slightly larger than the black, Korialstrasz’s inherent weakness more than evened the battle.
“Leave me be!” he said, trying again to use reason. “There is no need for confrontation between us!”
“You will not interfere!” the black retorted, eyes wide and surely mad.
Alexstrasza’s consort had no idea what his adversary meant by that, but it strengthened the fear that something had happened to Krasus.
The ebony behemoth dropped down on Korialstrasz, forcing him, in turn, to descend further. Korialstrasz allowed it to happen, intending to spin out from under his foe at the last moment.
But as he neared the mountain tops, he discovered that he had been played for a fool.
Korialstrasz’s adversary suddenly released his hold. As he did, another black dragon leapt from behind a nearby peak. It collided with the red, sending both spinning out of control. The jagged earth below rushed up toward the pair.
“You’ll slay us both!” shouted Korialstrasz.
“For the glory of my master!”
The rushing wind forced back the black’s wings. Only then did Alexstrasza’s consort see that one had been broken and torn. This dragon could no longer fly properly; he intended to sacrifice himself in order to send his foe to his death.
Korialstrasz, however, had no intention of perishing so. Beating his wings hard, he did what the other was incapable of doing, using the leathery appendages to direct their fall. Suddenly, instead of the red being on the bottom, the sinister black found himself there.
The injured giant roared and tried to flip them back around. Farther up, an answering cry warned Korialstrasz that his other foe had realized what was happening.
Pulling in all four legs but keeping his grip, the red calculated the seconds remaining. He watched the harsh landscape near, his attention in particular on the short, sharp hills mixed among the mountains.
And as he and the black reached them, Korialstrasz stretched his legs, thrusting his adversary down even as he beat his wings hard to lift his own considerable mass.
With a painful howl that echoed throughout the region, the injured black collided with the ground. His bones shattered, and he briefly flailed like a leaf caught in a breeze. Blood spilled over the immediate area.
A final gasp escaped the stricken leviathan…and then his head rolled to the side, his tongue lolling free.
The second attack nearly caught Korialstrasz as he struggled to keep from joining the dead dragon. Again the claws raked the red’s back, forcing a cry from him. The strain of the battle began to tell on Korialstrasz. His breathing grew weary, and it took increasing effort to keep aloft. Neither he nor Alexstrasza had expected this betrayal by Neltharion’s flight.
“You must die!” roared the black wildly, as if by telling his prey this Korialstrasz would understand.
The red dragon managed to avoid the deadly talons again, but his foe pressed him hard. The other behemoth was not only swift, but driven by a manic desire to please the Earth Warder. Like the first black, he appeared ready to sacrifice himself if it would serve the cause.
But what cause? Why be so furious that one dragon was not among the rest? Why had fear of that very fact caused Neltharion to command these to die for him?
Whatever the reason, Korialstrasz could no longer worry about it. A fierce column of molten fire caught him full in the chest. He spun around madly, unable to focus.
Claws dug into his chest. The fetid breath of the black nearly caused him to gag.
“I have you!” roared the insane creature. The dark giant inhaled for another blast, one certain to slay his opponent at such close range.
Desperate, Korialstrasz thrust his head forward. His huge jaws clamped tight on the black’s neck, squeezing so hard that it cut off the air passage.
The other dragon shook violently as the forces it sought to unleash could not find an exit. He clawed frantically at Korialstrasz, leaving scars in the face and body.
The black literally exploded.
Releasing the neck, Korialstrasz roared in agony as burning ichor poured over him from the ruined corpse. It was too much. His strength gone, he and his dead adversary dropped to the earth.
And as he blacked out, the red dragon could only wonder how his death would affect his future self.
A
rchimonde watched his legions retreat from the spell and the oncoming night elves. He watched as the landscape before him filled with the forest-green armor of the foe. The demon commander could feel their sense of triumph, hear their roars of imminent victory.
How easy these creatures are to deceive, he thought. They think that they will win now.
With that, the gigantic demon turned and slowly, confidently, walked after his fleeing minions.
“Unngh!”
Malfurion started at the sound from Krasus. A moment later, he felt the mage struggle with his grip. Looking down, the druid saw that they were much too high up for him to drop safely even with the magical feather.
Clutching onto Krasus’s arms as best he could, Malfurion shouted, “What is it?”
“I do not—I feel as if my beating heart has been torn from my chest! I—I must land quickly!”
The night elf quickly scanned the area. There were woods and grassy plains below, more of the latter fortunately. He saw one area that looked softer than the rest and pointed at it. “Can you make it to there?”
“I—will—try!”
But Krasus flew haphazardly, and the spot that Malfurion had chosen began to disappear to the right. Instead, they headed for a copse of trees that might break their fall, but would also likely break their necks and skulls.
Krasus grunted hard, lifting them into the air a bit higher. The trees passed and again open plain welcomed them. They started to descend, slowly at first, then much too fast for the druid’s taste.
“I think—I think you must be prepared to save yourself, Malf—”
Suddenly, the mage released him.
Precious seconds passed before Malfurion realized what he could do. He reached out with his thoughts to the grass below…
That area of the field rapidly grew taller and thicker. The grass bunched so tight it created a padding of sorts. As the night elf dropped on it, it gave slightly, then reshaped. Every bone in his body shook, but Malfurion survived intact.
He felt his shoulder, only to find the gift from Aviana missing. Still, Malfurion gave thanks that he had acted swiftly and avoided disaster.
Krasus fluttered several yards farther, moving like a hawk fatally shot by an archer. Malfurion could not react quickly enough to aid the dragon mage, who finally crashed into the tall grass beyond.
The instant that he hit, Krasus’s wings dissipated like dust in the wind. The limp figure fell forward, vanishing from the druid’s sight.
“Master Krasus! Krasus!” Pushing himself to his feet, the night elf struggled through the field toward where he had last seen his companion.
But of his companion, there was no sign. Malfurion gazed at the grass, certain that he had the correct location.
Then, some distance to the south, he heard a brief moan. Shoving aside the grass, Malfurion hunted for the source.
Moments later, the still form of Krasus greeted his fearful eyes.
He knelt by the mage, cautiously looking for any outward injury. Finding none, Malfurion slowly turned him over. As he did, he noticed something slip from his companion’s body.
Krasus’s feather. It looked withered, brown. Touching it with one finger, the druid gasped as the feather crumbled, vanishing in the dirt and grass.
Another moan escaped Krasus. Adjusting him so that he lay perfectly on his back, Malfurion checked for broken bones. However, despite his much harder fall, Krasus appeared untouched. Apparently, the only thing affecting him had been whatever ailment had stricken him in flight.
The pale figure’s eyes flickered open. “I…I am tired…of waking in s-such a condition…”
“Careful, Krasus. You shouldn’t move yet.”
“I will soon not be moving at all…Malfurion, I…believe I am dying.”
“What do you mean? How? What happened to you?”
“Not me…another. I am tied to Korialstrasz…and he to me. I think—I think he has been attacked. He is…nearly dead, and…if he goes, there is no hope for me.”
Malfurion looked Krasus over again, trying to find something he could do to help. “Is there no hope?”
“Perhaps if you could—could heal him…but he is far from here, and…as he is a dragon…it would be most d-difficult. I—”
He grew silent. Malfurion thought quickly, but nothing else came to mind. All the skills that Cenarius had taught him could be applied, but not when the true victim lay countless miles away.
Then he saw—half-revealed by the wizard’s crumpled robe—the scale. “Krasus. This piece—”
“Wh-what I thought would…save us earlier. A bit of him…for a b-bit of me. It did—did work for a time.”
“This is his scale,” Malfurion said to himself. “His scale.”
It was an audacious, impossible plan—and the only one he had. He ran his finger across the scale, marveling at its texture and sensing the power of it. The druid’s intention borrowed from differing aspects of his learning, things that Cenarius had never linked together. Still…certain basics surely applied…
“I may have an idea, Krasus.”
But the mage did not answer; his eyes once again had closed. At first the night elf feared that he had already passed away. Only when he leaned close and listened to Krasus’s quiet but still steady breathing did Malfurion’s tensions ease slightly.
He could not hesitate any longer. Krasus had only minutes remaining.
Placing both hands on the scale, the druid opened his mind back up to his surroundings. Already the grass knew him and it reacted to his call. The wind tousled his hair and the earth stirred to waking, curious about his plea.